AfPrNRLF ^B 307 77T OF 1H|« UNIVERSITY INTE^^^V SERIES. HE FIFTH READER: von THE USE OF PUBLIC AND PRIVATE SCHOOLS. AN INTRODUCTORY TREATISE ON ELOCUTION BY PROF. MARK BAILEY. By G. S. HILLAKD. BOSTON: NEW YORK: J. W. SCHERMERHOHN & CO. PORTLAND, ME.: BAILEY AND NOYES. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by GEOKGE S. HILLAKI), In the Clerk-s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusettfl. EDUCATIOH LIBR;, n PREFACE. ^Jiu^. The FrFTH Reader is intended for advanced classes in pub- lic and private schools. It contains some of the pieces in the Second Class Reader of the former series, which have been most approved by teachers ; but the greater part of the con- tents is new. The aim of the compiler has been to include as wide a range of subjects as was possible, so that the powers of the pupils might be trained by various forms of expression, and different kinds of rhetorical style. Wliile the teaching of the art of reading has been made a paramount object, the compiler has constantly borne in mind the importance of choosing such selections as inculcate sound morals and patriotic sentiment, and aid in the formation of a good literary taste. Brief biographical and explanatory notices have been prefixed to most of the selections ; and at the end of each piece the pronunciation and definition of the most difficult words have been given. This latter is a feature which, it is hoped, will be approved by teachers. The introductory portion, on reading and the training of the vocal organs, is mainly the same as that found in the Sixth Reader, which was prepared for that work by Pro- fessor Makk Bailey of Yale College. M5770r;7 Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2008 witin funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation littp://www.arcliive.org/details/fiftlireaderforusOOIiillricli CONTENTS, ARTICULATION. Table of Vowel Sounds, •••••• 2 Table of Consonant Sounds, ••••• 3 Exercises on the Vowel Sounds ••• 4 Vowel Sounds in Unaccented Syllables, 6 Exercises on the Consonant Sounds, 7 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE ON ELOCUTION. Fbeface, •••••••••••••11 Part I., 13 Method of Analysis 13 Different Kinds or Classes of Emotion, .•••.•• 15 Vocal Expression, , 16 Elements of Vocal Expression, 16 Past II. PriXCIPLES and IlLUSTEATIONS of THK KliEKBNTS OF Vocal Expressiox, ..' 18 Force, .•••••.18 Time, 24 The Slides 29 Pitch, • • • . 40 Volume, ,.••..42 Stress, ••••••43 Quality of Voice, ••••••••48 READING LESSONS. PROSE. ftXSSOV. 1. The Two Roads, , Richter, 61 2. A Child's Dream of a Star, Dickens. 63 6. The Forgiven Debt L, M. Sargent. 69 VI CONTENTS. 6. An Indian Stratagem, 73 9. Memorials of Washington and Franklin, ....•,, 79 .10. Memorials of Washington and Franklin, concluded, ... 84 14. A Good Investment, Freeman Hunt. 98 15. The Chinese Prisoner, Thomas Percival. 103 18. Loss of the Arctic, Beecher. 108 20. Little Edward, Mrs. Stowe. 114 21. Little Edward, concluded «' " 117 25. Washington, Lee. 125 26. Cousin Deborah's Legacy, Chantbers's Journal. 126 29. The Hard-hearted Rich Man, , . , New Monthly/ Magazine. 135 30. Bobolink Irving. 137 32. The Progress of Humanity • . . Sumner. 144 35. A Lion Hunt Gerard. 151 36. The \Maale Fishery, North American Review. 155 38. The American Indian, •.,.,.. Charles Sprague. 160 39. Mount Auburn, Stori/. 162 41. Anecdote of Richard Jackson, • . London Quarterly Rev. 169 42. The Atmosphere, Quarterly Review. 171 45. Motives to Intellectual Action in America, • • . liillard. 177 46. The Pine Tree Shillings, Hawthorne. 180 47. Behind Time, • • . . • Freeman Hunt. 184 61. A Storm at Sea, Hughes. 192 62. Speech on the Reception of the Sauks and Foxes, . Everett. 197 63. The Irreparable Past, Robertson. 190 65. Lessons of Spring, t . . . Greenwood. 206 66. Birds • ♦ . Knickerbocker Magazine. 208 67. Birds, concluded, " «« 211 68. After IMarriage, Sheridan. 214 62. Contrast between Adams and Napoleon Setcard. 223 65. Extract from Emmet's Speech Emmet. 235 67. Limit to Human Dominion, Swain. 240 68. A Mosquito Hunt, Basil Hall. 244 71. Encounter between an Eagle and a Salmon, Life in the Woods. 251 72. The Mocking Bird, ....,,.. Alexander Wilson. 254 75. The Approach of Day, Everett. 260 78. The Death of the Little Scholar Dickens, 273 80. The Character of Greene, Headley. 278 82. Peter the Great, Macaiday. 287 R3. The Bunker Hill Monument, Webster. 292 S5. The White-headed Eagle, AUxa^er Wilson. 296 ^. The Scholar's Mission, • , Putnam, 298 CONTENTS. Vii 89. National Monument to Washington, Wiitthrop. 307 92. Elevating Influence of a Liberal Education, , . Walker. 314 95. A Curtain Lecture of Mrs. Caudle, ..... Jerrold. 3'22 98. Duty of American Citizens Douglas. 330 99. Liberty and Union, Webster. 332 101. Speech on the Reform Bill, Brougham. 338 105. The Duty of American Citizens, Everett. 348 106. Supposed Speech of Regulus to the Carthaginians, E, Kellogg. 350 108. Appeal for Ireland Cfoy. 355 209. A Good Daughter, Palfrey. 357 113. Labor and Genius, . . ' Sydney Smith. 361 115. The Religious Character of President Lincoln, D. P. Gtirleg. 307 117. Obedience to Law the Duty of Good Men, . . .J. Holt. 371 118. Our Heroes, J. A. Aiulreio. 373 119. The Responsibilities of American Citizens, . . . . Storg. 375 POETRY. 3. One by One Household Words. 67 4. How sleep the Brave, Collin^. 68 7. The Loss of the Royal George, ...... Cowper. 76 8. The Sunbeam Mi's. Ilemans. 78 11. William Tell, Knowles. 87 12. The Bell of the Atlantic, ....... Mrs. Sigounmj. 93 13. The Knight's Toast, 96 16. The Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Moore. 105 17. Woodman, spare that Tree, Morris. 107 19. The Song of the Forge . HI 22. The Coral Grove, J. G. Percival 121 23. Song of Rebecca, the Jewess, ...... Waltei- Scott. 122 24. The Soldier's Dream, Campbell. 124 27. The Three Mighty, Keto Monthly Magazine. 130 28. Marco Bozzaris, Halkck. 132 31. The Chameleon Merrick. 141 33. The Old Oaken Bucket, Woodworth. 147 34. Ivan the Czar Mrs. Remans. 148 37. The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk, Cowper. 158 40. A Battle in the Highlands, Walter Scott. 165 43. Song of the Union, Cummings. 173 44. The Burial of Moses . 174 48. Evil Influence of Scepticism, , . Campbell. 187 49. The River Saco Lyons. 189 VIU CONTENTS. 50. David's Lament for Absalom, Willis. 191 64. The Combat, Walter Scott. 201 59. The Passage, Uhland. 218 60. Emgen on the Rhine, Mrs. Nortmi. 219 61. The Voice of the Wares Mrs. Ilemans. 221 63. Saladin and Malek Adhel, . , . New Monthly Magazine. 227 64. City and Country, Holmes. 233 66. National Hymn, S. F. Smith. 239 69. New England, J. G. Percival. 248 70. A Modest Wit, 249 73. The Inquiry 257 74. Tubal Cain Mackay. 258 *?! 76. Edinburgh after Flodden Aytoun. 263 77. Dialogue between Antony and Ventidius, .... Dryden. 268 79. Ureak, Break, Break, • . . . Tennyson. 277 81. Iloratius at the Bridge, .•••••... Macaulay. 281 84. The Arsenal at Springfield, » LongfeUoto. 294 87. The Battle Field Bryant. 300 88. The Death Scene in Ion, Talfourd. 302 90. Arnold Winkelried, Montgomei-y. 310 91. Speech of Marullus Shakspeare. 313 93. Palestine, Whittiei'. 317 94. The Song of the Shirt, Hood. 319 96. Bernardo del Carpio, •••••••. Mrs. Hemans. 325 97. Clarence's Dream, Shakspeare. 327 100. Soliloquy of the Dying Alchemist, Willis. 334 102. Ode to the Sea Serpent, 340 103. The Abbot and Robert Bruce, Walter Scott. 343 104. Lines on a Skeleton, 346 107. The Battle of Naseby, Macaulay. 353 110. Army Hymn, .•••••••••••• Holmes. 359 111. The Minstrel Boy Moore. 360 112. The Greeks at Thermopylae, . ••••••.• Byron. 360 114. Barbara Frietchie, Whittier. 365 116. Claribel's Prayer, X, Palmer. 369 THE FIFTH READER. ARTICULATION". Articulation is the utterance of the various vocal sounds represented by letters, and combinations of let- ters, in syllables. A Vowel is a letter which represents a free and uninter- rupted sound of the human voice. A Conso7iant is a letter which cannot be sounded, or but imperfectly, without the aid of a vowel. A Letter is not itself a sound, but only the sign of a sound. The whole number of English sounds, which, for convenience, may be classed as " Elementary ^^ or essen- tially simple, is forty-four. They are those indicated in the following tables of vowels and consonants (in large type) ; also, that of A long before i?, and A intermediate. Some of these, however, are by some authors regarded as compound sounds. Some of the letters represent several elementary sounds, and an elementary sound is sometimes represented by more than one letter. / An Equivalent is a letter, or a combination of letters, used to represent an elementary sound more appropriately represented by another letter or letters. The equivalents given in the following tables are those of most common occurrence. 1 :^ ARTICULATION. TABLE OF VOWEL SOUNDS. This table Is designed for an exercise upon the vowel elements. These should be pronounced alone as well as in combination with tlie words given as exam- ples. Let the class first pronounce tlie table in order, thus : A long, Fate, hi A short. Fat, a, &c. ; tlion pronounce the column of elements alone. Ilemarks on the sounds of the letters will be found on page 1 j also, uudcz the Exercises on the vowel and the consonant sounds. Name. A long A short Example. E Fate Fat LEMENT. a Name. long and close ' Example. Element. M6ve A Italian Far a U long Tube U A broad Fall a U short Tub u E long E short Meto Met e U middle or obtuse IfuII u I long Pine 1 U short and l^ur u I short Pin 1 obtuse long Note 01 andOY Boil ot short N8t 8 OUandOW LENTS. Bound oa Tji ( short and obtuse, 1 TT.._ " ^ ] like u in Fur i "^'^ ^ I like E long 3Iachine £ T < short and obtuse, ) c-. •• A 1 like U in Fur j ^"^ 1 O like A broad Nor U like in Move Eille Y like 1 long Type Y like I short Symbol yr < short and obtuse, ) ^.^vrtlo 1 1 likeuinFUr piJ^t'e ft .y y y like U short S6n 6 EW like U long New ew The following vowel sounds cannot be easily pronounced alone, as distinct elements, so as to be distinguished from some of the other sounds. See re. inai'ks on a long before r, a intermediate, and on the obscure sounds, page 5. Name. Examples. A long before R . . . . Fire, pAir. A intermediate .... Fftst, branch. A slight or obscure . . Lisir, palace. E like A long before R Heir, there. E slight or obscure , , Brier, fu§l. Name. Examples. I slight or obscure . Rujn, ability. O slight or obscure . Actor, confess, U sliglit or obscure . Sulphur famoaa Y slight or obscure . Truly, envy. ARTICULATION TABLE OF CONSONANT oOT'lr ^S. This table should be treated by tlie class in the same manner as the table of vowel sounds. The sound of a consonant may be ascertained by pronouncing a word containing it in a slow and forcible manner. Vocal Consonants are those uttered with a slight degree of vooality, but less tlian that of a vowel. They are formed with a vibration ofthe vo«;d cliords. Aspirate Consonants are those in which the pure breath alone is heard They are formed without any vibration of the vocal cliords. VOCAL CONSONANTS.i Name. Example. 1 :leiient. Name. Example. ELEaEsr B Babe b R (trilled) Rap r D Did d R (untrilled) Nor r G liard Gag g TH soft Thine th J Joy J Y Valve V L Lull 1 W Wine w M Maim m Y Yes 7 N Nun n Z Zeal z NG Sing ng ZH (or Z) Azure zh ASPIRATE C ONSONANTS. CH Church ch T Tent t F Fife f S Seal s ir Hold h SH Shine sh K Kirk k TH sharp Thin th p Pipe P lLENTS. C son:, like s Cease 9 S soft, like z Muse f C hard, like k jeake fi S like zh Vision 8 Ch hard, like k f)hasm Sh Q like k Coquette q Ch soft, like sh (;hais0 9h X like ks Tax X G soft, like j ^iant t X like gz Exalt ? Vh like f Seraph ph Q has the sound of k, and is always followed by n, which, in this position, com monly has the sound ofw, but is sometimes silent. WH is an aspirated w, pronounced as if written hw. 1 Sometimes called Subvocals, or Subtonlcs. 2 H sounded before a vowel, is an expulsion of the breath after the crga» are iu a position to sound the vowel. ARTICULATION. EXERCISES ON THE VOWEL SOUNDS. In pronouncing the words in the following exercises, special attention should be given to the precise sound of the letters Italicized. The sounds of the let ters in Italics are the same as the sound of the vowel at the head of the paragraph. a, long, as in fate. — Blame, sail, obey, cambric, ancient, ve*n, weigh, patron, lava, patriot. a, short, as in fSit. — Bad, had, can, cannon, fancy, plazd, have, scath, inhabit, companion, national. a, Italian, as in fiir. — ^re, guitar, mart, alarm, father, heart, hearth, gward, dai^nt, hawnt, gatnitlet, jaundice. a, broad, as in fall ; and o, as in nor. — Ball, tall, form, storm, salt, oz^ght, fowght, a^^ger, aioful, water, awthor, always, cat^se, laz^yer, balsam, bawble. a ^ as in fare ; and e, as in there. — Dare, rare, pair, air, share, bear, snare, where, heir, stare, pare. a % as in fast. — Blast, chance, trance, branch, grasp, graft, grant, grass, class, mastiff, pasture, plaster, chancellor. e, long, as in mete ; and i, as in marine. — Theme, scene, ravine, pique, key, fiend, grieve, treaty, C^sar, critique, belief, receive, receipt, qtia^, lenient, inherent. e, short, as in met. — Bed, bread, tepid, said, says, friend, leopard, preface, heroism, heifer, again, realm, many, any, get, yes, chest, beneficent. j, long, as in pine; and y, as in bp. — Vine, child, fly, height, type, isle, bwy, satiety, gwide, gwile, flight, ally, apply, tiny, sinecure. I, short, as in pin/ and y, as in myth. — Prince, quince, lyric, servile, agile, husj, business, sieve, cygnet, cynic, cylinder, Ttalian, tribune 0, long, as in note. — Dome, glory, more, both, oath, foe, doi^gh, gloi^, yeoman, beai^, coeval, encroach. ^ short, as in not. — Rob, sob, dot, got, was, wand, watch, from, prompt, prospect, fossil, docile. ARTICULATION. £^ Oj long and close, as in move ; and w, as in rule. — Proj'-e, lose, mood, moon, root, remove, smooth, ri^de, rwral, fruitless, trwant, pri/dent, br? ; popular or popelar for popular ; awfle for awful, &c. So general is this fault, that the ear becomes accustomed to the improper sounds from infancy ; hence arises the difficulty in remedying the defect, for the habit of indistinct utterance becomes firmly cstablislied. In pronouncing words containing unaccented syllables, care should be taken to avoid a formal and fastidious prominence of sound. The two extremes which ought to be equally avoided, are, carelessness on the one hand, and extreme pre- cision on tlie other, as if the sounds of the letters were constantly uppermost in the mind. n, obscure, as in mental. — Musical i, comical, critical, numerical, fatal, principal, original, criminal. Special, beneficial, artificial, commercial, initial, cre- dential, reverential, essential, impartial. Ascendant 2, defendant, defiance, reliance, variance, countenance, performance. Peaceable 3, agreeable, sociable, amiable, detestable, abominable, respectable, tolerable, valuable. % obscure long, as in stdphate. — Abandon ^, ability, abolish, afloat, again, alarm, amaze, canal, caress, catarrh, cathedral, separate, carbonate, apostasy. e, obscure, as in travel. — Chapel s, gravel, counsel, moment 6, confidence, dependent, silence, seftlement. Goodness'', boundless, sameness, plainness, laziness, bashfulness, bitterness, manliness, steadiness. e, obscure long, as in emerge. — Belief 8, believe, benevolent, delight, deliver, denounce, prepare, precede. i, obscure, as in ruin. — Invincible 9, forcible, audible, 11 legible, feasible, sentmel, posszbly. ARTICULATION. 7 0, obscure, as In idol. — Collect ^^ commence, commission, compose, comply, concern, convert, convulse. 0, obscure long, as in obey. — Domainal, colossal, corrobo- rate ^% history, memory, composition i^, advocate. Potato ^'^j tobacco, motto, fellotw, windoir, meado2o. U, obscure, as in sulphur. — AwM^^^ fearM, playfwl, duti- iu\ gracef^^l, fearfully, beautifully. 11, obscure long, as in educate. — Articidate '^, accwrate^, masctdine, regi/lar, particz^lar, emulate. Pleasure, exposure, nature, pressure, impost^n-e. y, obscure, as in truly, — Lady, safety, envy, marrying. 1 Not musicH. " Not mrinQuhle. a Not ascendunt. . lo Not cullect. > 'NotpeafJible, or peaf'ble, *i Not rfumatre. * Not abandon, or abandon. 12 Kot corrdb^rate. 6 Not chapH. ^3 Not compersition, « Not rnomunt. ** Not potatur. 1 Not goodnis, is Not aicfle. 8 Not bUief. 16 Not artic'late. EXERCISES ON THE CONSONANT SOUNDS. b, as in babe. — ^at, 5ear, bought, Jeast, sta^, ebb, tu5e, bubble^ babbler, Jound, bind, Mnder, Jegin, beggar. ch, as in church. — C%air, cAat, charm, check, churn, chirp. d, as in did. — Deed, debt, mad, moc^est, woulc^, sliouk/', c^ec^uce, added, wedded, dated, side, sided, deduced. f, as in ffe. — J^ame, fend, fanciful, prober, craftj, enough, rough, cough, laugh, laughter, pAysic, ^jAantom. g, as in gag. — Game, gag, playue, vayue, ghost, yuard, yone, juy, egg, yuilt, gewgaw, yuinea, yive. ll, as in hold. — ^ate, high, huge, hot-house, who, bcAest, /iap-Aazard, upholder, offAand, childAood, nutAook, with- Aold, ink-Aorn, race-Aorse, unAappy. j as in jog. — «7ar,Jilt, yenius, yentle, yiant, yibbet, yypsy, edge, ledge, judge. Judgment, June, July. k, as in ki7'7c. — A'ite, seeA;, ial/c, music, coil, vaccinate, flac^ cid, cAasm, cAoir, cAorus, co^'uette, eti<2'uette, arcAitect. 8 ARTICULATION. 1, as m lull — Be^/, /urk, isfe, pa?e, ^ark, loll^ /ive/y, Zovefy, hai^, ta//, sweetly, ho/y, awfuZ/y. ni, as in inaim. — iH/an, morn, wound, mnmmon, moment, blame, hym?2, dome, memory, memento. n, as in nun. — JV'me, li/ie^i, way, ^nat, can, keen, noun, condign, gnaw, kneel, hannev, kitchen, hyphe;i. llg;, as in song. — l^mg, Ringing, ringing, anger, congress, dr'mk, plank, lynx, tinker, distinct, monkey, conquer. p, as in pijye. — Peer, ^in, joool, ha^^py, pippin, puppet, rapid, tropic, pupil, jt^iper, creep, grope, stop, steep. r, (trilled,) initial, or before a vowel, as in o'ap. — i?end, rebel, rot, rest, room, rural, around, enrich. r, (untrilled,) final, or before a consonant, as in nor. — Far, our, murmur, former, servant, border, appear, forbear. S, as in seed. — /Sin, sign, suit, dose, .sinless, science, tran- scend, psalm, scene, scAism, beside, poesy, heresy. Sll, as in shine. — /Shine, gash, sash, associate, mansion, enunciation, ocean, station, promotion, cAevalier. t as in tent. — Time, tune, T'hames, receipt, indict, titter. tb, as in thin. — ^Aank, ^Aeory, theatre, hath, month, brea^A, e^Aer, ^Aankful, linking, aifAeist, thorn. til, as in thine. — J'Aus, ^Aere, ^Aose, benea^A, ti^Ae, bre^Aren, far^Aing, brea^Ae, bli^Ae, hea^Aen, ^Aerefore. V, as in valve. — "Fine, vit^id, votive, revive, twelve, revolvco W, as in tcine. — TFall, ?conder, one, once, woo, weai, toorth. Wll, as in whit. — TFAale, where, when, what, why, tcAether, ichite, toA-iten, toAipping, iv/iisper, whist. T, like ks, as in tax. — 'Box, tecct, seccton, eaj'ile, ecchume. X", like gz, as in exalt. — Ea;act, eccempt, eccert, eaile'. y, as in ges. — Young, yawn, use, wtility, yonder, million, poniard, rebellion, spaniel, filial, z^seful. Z, as in zeal. — As, was, zephyr, maze, -prize, flies, daisies, praises, arise, breesies, ccanthine, A'erxes. Z, like zh, as in azure. — Glasier, seizure, leisure, collision, occasion, osier, vision, explosion, roseate. INTRODUCTORY TREATISE ELOCUTION; PRINCIPLES AND ILLUSTRATIONS, ARRANGED FOB TEACHING AND PRACTICE. PROF. MARK BAILEY, INSTRUCTOR OF ELOCUTION i: YALE COLLEGE. Kntarod according to Act of Congress, In the year 1863, by Mark BAU.ET, U tb* Clerk's Omce of the District Court of Couoccticut. PREFACE Good Heading includes that mastery of the elements of language and elocution, which teachers and scholars so rarely attain. Articulation and pronunciation must be not only dis- tinct and accurate, hut expressive. This last excellence can- not he attained by merely enunciating meaningless sounds and syllables. Too many such mechanical exercises kill the instinctive use and recognition of expressive tones which the child brings to school, and in the end completely divorce his elocution from the spirit and sense to which it should be inseparably wedded, and which alone can inspire natuiaJ- expression. The child feels and thinks before he talks. Na- ture, in her teaching, begins with the idea, and in her repeated efforts to express the idea more perfectly, perfects the elemen- tary parts of language and elocution. Let us enlist Nature into our service by following her teachings. Let even the earliest lesson in reading be enlivened by the aid of some idea famil- iar and interesting to the child. He knows the thing, the idea, **man," or '* sun," he has spoken the word a thousand times, and he is pleased to learn that the mysterious art of reading is only conscious talking, — that he is but analyzing, and sounding, and naming the unknown parts of a familiar whole. But especially with the advanced classes, (which are 12 PREFACE. expected to use the following work on elocution,) would the author commend this practical method of improving the parts, with the immediate purpose of giving better expression to the whole, — of practising and perfecting the execution of the dead elements of elocution, in the life-giving light of inspiring ideas. " There is in soxils a sympathy with sounds." This analogy in Nature between tones and sentiments is the central source from which the author has drawn the simple principles and hints which are given to aid teachers in their laudable efforts to cultivate in the school-room, and thus everywhere, a more natural and expressive elocution. The art, embracing the expression of the whole range of human thoughts and feelings, from the earliest lispings of the child to the most impassioned and finished utterance of a Gar- rick or Siddons, covers too wide a field, and reaches too high a point in human culture, it is evident, to be all compressed into these few introductory pages ; nor would the highest re- finements of the art be practicable in the school-room if they could be here given. Yet, such initial steps have been taken, and clearly marked out in the right direction toward the high- est art, it is hoped, as will tempt many to go on further in this interesting study of nature and art, till they see for them- Belves to what "rich ends" our "most poor matters point." PART I. ELOCUTION is the vocal expression of ideas with the peaking tones, as distinguished from the singing. Good Elocution, in reading or speaking, is the expression of ideas with their appropriate or natural speaking tones of the voice. But how can we, intelligently, even attempt to give correct vocal expression to what is not first clearly understood and APPRECIATED ? Hence arises at the very outset, as a prerequisite to any possible excellence in elocution, the necessity of a thorough ANALYSIS and study of the ideas or the thoughts and feelings to be read. Let, then, each lesson in reading begin with WiiB, prepara- tory work of ** Logical Analysis" method oe analysis. In any other art, if we wish to conceive and express things clearly, we inquire, first, for the genus, or the general kind ; secondly, for the species, or the individuals, under that kind. If, for example, we were asked to paint a group of animals or flowers, — 1. We should ascertain what land of animals or flowers is meant, — the horse, or the lion ; the rose, or the lily. 2. AVc should determine the peculiarities of the individuals. 3. We should feel obliged to learn something of the general colors we arc to paint with, their various shades, and how to blend these into expressive lights and shades. Then only should we feel prepared to take i\iQ first step successfully in the art o£ painting. 14 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. Let us, in the kindred art of elocution, adopt tlie same natural method and order of inquiry. Let us determine, — 1. The general spirit or kind of the piece to he read. 2. The important individual ideas. 3. The relative importance of the ideas. 1. We must determine the kind or general spirit, that We may know what general or standard force, and timcy &c. , of voice we should read with. There must be some stand- ard to guide us, or we cannot tell how much emphasis to give to any idea. " Bead the emphatic words louder," says the teacher. Louder than what ? " Louder than the unemphatic ■words." But /ioi^ Zozfiif are ar^5 of a syllable. 7. ' Quality,' as 'pure' and resonant, or 'impure' and aspirated. Let us now study and practice the principles for the right use of each one of these elements of vocal expression, in Part IL PAUT II. PRINCIPLES AND ILLUSTEATIONS OF THE ELE^ MENTS or VOCAL EXPEESSIOK FORCE As in our analysis of the spirit and sense of eacli passage, we have always two quite different questions to ask, viz., AVhat is the general spirit, and what the relative importance of the indioidual ideas f so in our analysis of each one of the elements of vocal expression, we have the same general and individual inquiries to make : 1. What general degree of force will best express the • general spirit ' of the piece ? 2. Taking this general force as our * standard ' degree of loudness or softness to be given to the unemphatic words, how much additional force must we give to the emphatic words, in order to bripg out, in our reading, the relative importance of the different ideas ? PRINCIPLE ¥0R STANDARD FORCE. Determine the ' standard force ' for the unemphatic words by the ' kind ' or * general spirit ' of the piece. If the kind is ' unemotional,' the standard force is * moderate.^ If the kind is ' bold,' the standard force is ' loud.^ If the kind is * pathetic or subdued,' the standard force is ' soft,* 2* 18 IXTROLJUCTOKY TKEATISE. PRINCIPLE FOR RELATIVE OR EMPHATIC FORCE. Taking the ' standard force ' for the 2inemj)hatic words, give additional force to the emphatic ideas, according to their relative importance, " Learning is better than wealth ; Culture is better than learning ; "Wisdom is better than culture." ANALYSIS. The 'general spirit' or 'kind' is ^ unemotionaV The ^ standard force' is, therefore, * moderate.' The words "better" and "wealth " in the first line must have just enough addi- iional force to distinguish them from the unemphatic words "is" and "than." "Learning" is more important than " wealth," and must have enough more force than " wealth " to express its relative importance, " Culture " is more impor- tant than "learning," and must therefore be read with more force. " Wisdom " is still more important than " culture," and must be read with still more force, to distinguish it as the inost important of all. Hence, to read this simple paragraph naturally, that is, to express distinctly the general spirit and the relative importance of the different ideas, we need fve distinct de- grees of force. Let us mark the least degree of emphatic force by italics, the second by small capitals, the third by large capitals, the fourth by larger capitals, and express the same in reading. " Learning is letter than wealth ; QULTUKE is better than learning; \\^ISr>OM is better than CULTURE." * Unemationcd' examples for ' moderate ' standard force. 1. " I am charged with ambition. The charge is true, and I GLORY in its truth. AVho ever achieved anything great in letters, arts, or arms, who was not ambitious ? Ccesar was IXTPtODUCTOKY TREATISE. 19 not more ambitiotis tlian Cicero. It was but in another way. All greatness is born of amhition. Let the ambition be a NOBLE one, and who shall hlame it ? " 2. '* The plumoffc of the mocJdng-hird, though none of the homeliest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it ; and had he nothing else to recommend him, would scarcely entitle him to notice; hut his Jiyure is well-proportioned, and even handsome. The ease, elegance, and rapidity of his movements, the anima- tion of his eye, and the intelligence he displays in listening, and laying up lessons from almost every species of the feath- ered creation within his hearing, are really surprising, and mark the peculiarity of his genius." 3. " ThxeG poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn : * The first in majesty of thought surpassed ; The next in gracefulness ; in BOTH, the last" [Unmarked Examples.*] 4. " Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Lind us further than to-day. " Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing. Learn to labor and to wait." 5. " In every period of life, the acquisition of knowledge is one of the most pleasing employments of the human mind. But in youth, there are circumstances which make it produc- * Some examples under Force, Time, and Slides are given without elo- cutionary marks, lliat teachers and pupils may exercise their own judgment *ud taste in analyzing and reading them according to the principles. 20 INTEODUCTORY TREATISE. >« tive of higher enjoyment. It is then, that everything has the charm of novelty; that curiosity and fancy arc awake, and that the heart swells with the anticipations of future eminence and utility." ' Bold ' examples for ' loud ' standard force, 1. " Sir, we have done everything that coidd be done, to Uvert the storm which is now coming on. We have 'petitioned ; we have remonstrated ; we have supplicated ; we have pros- trated ourselves before the throne, and have implored its inter- position to ARREST the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parlianumt. Our petitions have been slighted ; our remon- strances have produced additional violence and insidt ; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been SPURNE:^with contempt, from the foot of the throne ! " 2. " My friends, our country must be free ! The land Is never lost, that has a son to right her, And here are troops of sons, and loyal ones ! Strong in her children should a mother be : Shall ours be helpless, that has sons like us ? God SAVE our native land, whoever pays The ransom that redeems her ! Now what wait we ? For Alfred's word to move upon theybe ? Upon him then ! JVow think ye on the things You most do love I Husbands 2.\A fathers, on Their avives and cuildren ; lovers on their beloved ; And all upon their COUNTRY ! " 3. " The gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and tendency of Northern institutions. He is ignorant of North- ern character. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the Northern laborers ? Who are the Northern laborers ? Tlie history of your country is their history. The renown of your country is their renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. INTRODUCTORY TRExVTISE. 21 Where is Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and Tren- ton, and Saratoga, and Bunker Hill, but in the North ? And what, sir, has shed an imperishable renown on the names of those hallowed spots, but the blood, and the struggles, the high daring, and patriotism, and sublime courage of Northern laborers ? The whole North is an everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelligence, and indomitable indepen- dence of Northern laborers ? Go, sir, go preach insurrection to men like these ! " 4. '' Our Fatherland is in danger ! Citizens ! to arms ! to arms ! Unless the whole Nation rise up, as one man, to de- fend itself, all the noble blood already shed is in vain ; and, on the ground where the ashes of our ancestors repose, the llussian knout will rule over an enslaved People ! AYe have nothing to rest our hopes upon, but a righteous God, and our own strength. And if we do not put forth that strength, God will also forsake us. Hungary's struggle is no longer our struggle alone. It is the struggle of popular freedom against tyranny. In the wake of our victory, will follow liberty to the Italians, Germans, Poles. With our fall, goes down the star of freedom over all." Examples of the ' suhd^ied or pathetic ' kind for ' soft ' standard force. 1. " Little Nell was dead. No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life ; not one who had lined and svfj'ered death. Ilcr couch was dressed with here and there some winter-ber- ries and Qreen leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favor. ' When I die, put near me something that has loved the LIGHT, and had the sky above it always.' Those were her words." 2. " But Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. 22 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. ** His few surviving comrades saw His smile, when rant^f their proud, hubeah, And the red field was won : Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a nigliCs repose, Jj'ike Jlowers at set of sun.'^ 3, *' I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to yc, I had a brother once, a gracious boy, Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, — Of sweet and quiet joy, — there was the look Of Heaven upon his face, which limners give To the beloved disciple. How I loved That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, Brother at once, and son ! He left my side, A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, — a smile Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! " 4. " There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found ; They softly lie and sweetly sleep, Low in the ground. " The storm that sweeps the wintry sky. No more disturbs their deep repose, Than summer evening's latest sigh, That shuts the rose." ' Soft force ' is also appropriate for the ' grave ' kind of sen- timents, and 'loud force' for the 'joyous' and 'noble,' and * very loud force ' for the ' impassioned ; ' but since other ele- ments of the voice, such as ' iinie,' 'slides,' ' qtudity,' &c., have more characteristic prominence than ' force ' in the finished expression of these classes, we shall be more likely to secure naturalness in the end, if we call attention first to the most characteristic elements. -% .:'j&, INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 23 TIME. * Time' has the same general and relative use as * Force.* PRINCIPLE FOR STANDARD TIME. Determine the ' standard time ' by the * general spirit' of the piece. If the general spirit is * unemotional,' the standard time is naturally ' moderate.^ If the general spirit is * animated or joyous,' the standard time is ' fa^l.^ If the general spirit is * grave,' ' subdued or pa- thetic,' or * noble,' the standard time is * shiw,^ PRINCIPLE FOR RELATIVE OR EMPHATIC TIME. Taking the * standard time ' for the unempJiatic words, give additional time to the em])hatic ideas, according to their relative importance. EXPLANATION. * Emphatic time^ has two forms. 1. That of actual sound, ox * qaantltyJ' 2. That of rest, or *^«M5e.' When an emphatic idea is found in a word whose accented syllable is loufj, give most of the emphatic time in long quan- tity, with only a short pause after the word. When the sylla- ble to be emphasized is short, give to it only so much quantity as good taste in 'pronunciation will allow, and the residue of the required time in a pause after the word ; thus holding the attention of the mind on the idea for the fall time demanded by the principle. When extraordinary emphasis of time is required, long pauses must be added to long quantity. Thus far, ' time ' harmonizes with ' force ' in principle and practice. But * time ' is of additional value to us. It furnishes one of the primary requisites to all intelligibly reading, viz : 24 INTKODUCTOEY TREATISE. APPROPRIATE PAUSES. The first and great use of ' pauses ' is to separate the ideas from each other, so as to preserve distinctly to the eye on the "written page, and to the ear in reading, the individaality of each, together with its relation to those before and after it. Second, pauses are necessary to give the reader frequent opportunities for inhaling. The grammatical pauses only imperfectly answer these pur- poses. But the additional elocutionary pauses which the spirit and sense may demand, are anticipated by our " Principle for relative or emphatic time," which makesjaawses a natural ^ar< of expressive emphasis in reading. PRINCIPLE FOR STANDARD PAUSES. Determine the * standard pause' by the * general spir- it ' of the piece. If the general spirit is * unemotional/ the standard pause is * moderate.^ If the general spirit is * animated or joyous/ the standard pause is * short.' If the general spirit is * grave,' or * subdued or pa- thetic,' the standard pause is ' long.' PRINCIPLE FOR RELATIVE PAUSES. Give the * standard pause ' after each distinct, un- emphatic idea, and give additional time to the pauses after the emphatic and independent ideas, according to their relative importance and independence. EXPLANATION. As the ' standard time ' for the movement and pauses is usually the same, let one perpendicular line | he the mark for both. Let any additional number of lines indicate addi- tional time, or emphatic ' quantity ' or ^ pauses.^ Let the half line ' indicate a time less than the standard. This time is needed in reading properly all parenthetical clauses. IXTKODUCTOKY TREATISE. 25 which are, from their very nature, less important even than the unemjihatic parts of the principal sentences. * Unemotional ' examples for * moderate ' standard time. 1. " The young man, | it is often said, ' has genius \\ enough, | if he would only study, \\ Now the truth is, [ as I shall take the liberty to state it, ' that the genius || avill ||| study ; \\ it is that I in the mind | which does \\ study: | that is the very nature 1 1 of it. | I care not to say | that it will always use loohs. II All study || is not reading, \\ any more than all reading || is study. || Attention [j| it is, — | though other qualities belong to this transcendent power, — ' ATTENTIONIH | it is, I that is the very soul ||| oi genius ; || not the fixed eye, || not the poring over a hook, || but the fixed TnouGiiT." ||| ANALYSIS. The piece is 'unemotional' and should be read, therefore, with ' moderate' * standard time ' for ' movement' and 'pauses.' '* The young man " is unemphatic, and should be marked and read with the ' standard time.' The clause, " it is often said," is really parenthetical : it forms no essential part of the sense or construction of the principal sentence. It is for that reason of less importance than the unemphatic words of the principal sentence. It should therefore be read with less than 'moderate' or 'standard time.' The idea in "genius" is emphatic, and should be read with enough more time (as well as force) than " young man" to express its greater rela- tive importance. The accented syllable is Zo^z^ in "genius." The emphatic time may be given, therefore, mostly in gican- tity, with a short pause after the word. "Enough" needs only the moderate pause after it, to separate it from the con- ditional idea, " if he would only study." " Study" is as em- phatic as " genius," but the accented syllable is short ; hence, the emphatic time on this word must be given in short quan- tity, and a longer pause after it to fill out the time. " Now the truth is," requires 'moderate' time, as it is unemphatic. "As I shall take the liberty to state it," requires /c?55 tnan moderate time and force, as it is of less importance, being parenthetical. " That the genius " is emphatic, and demands more than moderate time. " AVill" is still more important, 3 2'w IXTRODUCTOllY TREATISE. and demands three lines to mark its relative time in reading. " Study" is emphatic in the first degree, and needs only two lines to mark its time. — Thus analyze all the following ideas and selections ; and mark, in reading them, the relative im- portance or emphasis of each, by the * time ' as well as by the ' force ' of the voice. Further on in the piece above, we come to the great positive idea, " attention," which must be doubly emphasized ; and as it is repeated for emphasis, it then demands ^owr lines to mark its svperlative importance. There are few readers or speakers who make as good use of • time ' as of * force.' Yet ' time ' gives as expressive lights and shades as ' force,' and should be varied as much, according to the same principle. In reading ' grave,' ' subdued or pa- thetic,' and ' noble ' sentiments, time is far more liromiiient than/orce, and is thus a nobler element of emphasis. Let the example be read many times, to fix in the reader's mind the 'principle, and the hahit of applying it correctly. 2. " AYhat polisb is to the diamond, manner is to the indi- vidual. It heightens the value and the charm. The manner is, in some sense, the mirror of the mind. It pictures and represents the thoughts and emotions within. We cannot always be engaged in expressive action. But even when we are silent, even when we are not in action, there is something in our air and manner, which expresses what is elevated, or what is low ; what is human and benignant, or what is coarse and harsh. " The charm of manner consists in its simplicity, its grace, and its sincerity. How important the study of manner ! " This example demands ' slower ' standard time than the one above, because the * general spirit ' is nobler. The emphatic quantity andjtxzMse^ are proportionately longer. 3. " Such I was Grace Darling, 1 1 — one of the heroines | j| of humanity, — 1 1 whose name I is destined to live \ \ as long as the sympathies || and affections -W of humanity j|| endure, jj Such calm | heroism | | | as hers, \\ — so generously \ \ exerted for the good | of others, — 1 1 is one of the noblest | j j attributes of tiae soul II of man. | It had no alloy of blind | animal \\ INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 27 passion, J like the bravery of the soldier || on the field of battle, [I but it was spiritual, || celestial, jjj and we may reverently add, | GODLIKE." |||| Examples of the * animated or joyous ' Jdnd, for '■fast ' standard time, and ' short ' standard pauses. [•« The Voice of SinuNO,"] 1 " I come ! II I come! ||| ye have called me | long! || I come I o'er the mountains || with light j and song! || Ye may trace | ray step j o'er the wakening | earth, || By the winds jj which tell | of the violet's || birth, j By the primrose stars || in the shadowy grass, || By the green leaves || opening || as I pass. || *' From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain, They are sweeping on to the silvery main, - They are flashing down from the mountain brows, They are flinging spray o'er the forest- boughs, They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves ; And the earth resounds with the joy of waves! " 2. *' Then fancy || her magical | pinions | spread wide, || And bade the young dreamer | in ecstasy || rise; || Now, far, | far behind him || the green waters || glide, [ And the cot | of his forefathers 1 1 blesses 1 1 his eyes. I '* The jessamine 1 1 clambers | in flower | o'er the thatch, | And the swallow 1 1 sings sweet 1 1 from her nest j in tb* wall ; I All trembling | with transport, || he raises the latch, | And the voices | of loved ones || reply to his call" || 3. "Everyone is doubtful what course to take, — eveiy one 11 but Coesar ! || He || causes the banner || to be erected, !| tlie charge || to be sounded, | the soldiers at a distance | to be recalled, — jl all in a moment. | He runs I from place to 28 IXTRODUCTOEY TREATISE. place ; II his whole frame ||| is in action; || his words, |[ hia looks, II his motions, || his gestures, || exhort his men | to remember | their former valor. |j He draws them up, | and causes the signal to be given, — | all in a moment. | He seizes a buckler j from one of the private men, — | puts himself || at the head | of his broken troops, — 1 1 darts into the thick 1 1 of the battle, — 1| rescues [| his legions, || and overthrows ||| the enemy ! " j| * Grave ' examples for ' slow ' standard time. 1. " But where, || thought I, | is the crew? || Their strug- gle I has long been over; — 1| they have gone down | amidst the roar of the tempest ; — |[ their bones lie whitening | in the caverns of the deep. || Silence — ||| oblivion — |||| like the waves, [| have closed over them ; || and no one can tell || the story of their end. ||| " AVhat sighs || have been wafted after that ship! || WJiat prayers 1 1 oflFered up | at the deserted fireside of home ! 1 1 How often I has the mistress, || the wife, || and the mother || pored over the daily news, || to catch some casual intelligence | of this rover of the deep ! 1 1 How has expectation 1 1 darkened | into anxiety, — || anxiety | into dread, — ||| and dread || into despair ! || | [ Alas ! 1 1 not one | memento | shall ever return | for love 1 1 to cherish. 1 1 All that shall ever be known, | is, | that she sailed from her port, || and was never || heard of |) more." nil 'Grave' example for very ^*slow time' and very *long vaiisesJ 2. " It must II be so. || Plato, || thou reasonest well ! || Else I whence | this pleasing hope, || this fond desire, |l This longing 1 1 1 after immortality ? 1 1 1 1 Or whence | this secret dread 1 1 1 and inward horror 1 1 1 Of falling into naught ? 1 1 1| Why | shrinks the soul | Back I on herself, || and startles || at destruction? I||| INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 29 *T is the Divinity ||| that stirs | within us : || 'Tis Heaven || itself j|| that points out an hereafter, [| And intimates | Eternity ||| to man. || Eternity ! — |||| thou pleasing, — || dreadfulthought ! " j||l ''Pathetic* example for ' slow' sta7iclard time. 3. "Alas ! II niy noble boy ! ||| that thou | shouldst die ! ||| Thou, II who wert made | so beautifully fair ! ||j That death || should settle | in thy glorious eye, |j| And leave his || stillness ||| in thy clustering hair ! ||| How could he || mark thee ||j| for the silent tomb, ||| My proud | boy, || Absalom !" |||| SLIDES. In perfectly natural speech, the voice rises or falls on each unemphatic syllable through the interval of one tone only, but on the accented syllable of an emphatic word it rises or falls MOI^ THAN ONE TONE. This last is called the inflection or ' slide ' of the voice. The 'slides' are thus a pait of emphasis, and as they give the right direction and limit to ' force ' and ' time,' they are the crowning part of perfect emphasis. When contrasted ideas, of equal importance, are coupled, nothing but the contrasted slides can give the proper dis- tinctive emphasis. The slides also furnish to elocution its most ample and varied lights and shades of emotional ex-, pression. These slides are ' rising,' marked thus ( ' ) ,* or ' falling,' marked thus ( ^ ) ; or both of these blended, in the ' rising* circumflex Q,nd the 'falling' arc w/??/7ex, marked respectively thus ( ^ ) and thus {^). The ' rising ' and ' falling ' slides separate the great mass of ideas into tiuo distinct classes ; the first comprising all the subordinate, or incomplete, or as we prefer to name them, the negative ideas ; the second comprising all the principal, or complete, or as we shall call them, the positive ideas. The most important parts of what is spoken or written are lliose which aihrm something posi^/ve/y, such as iha facts and truths asserted, the principles, sentiments, and actions enjoined, 3* dO INTllODUCTORY TREATISE. with the illustrations, and reasons, and appeals which enforce them. All these may properly be grouped into one class, because they all should have the same kind of slide in reading. This class we call ' positive ideas.' So all the other ideas which do not affirm or enjoin :niy- ihmg positively , which are circumstantial and incomplete, or in open contrast with the positive, all these ideas may be prop- erly grouped into another single class, because they all should have the same kind of slide. This class we call * negative ideas.' Grant to the words * positive ' and ' negative ' the compre- hensive meaning here given to them, and let the distinction between the two classes be clearly made in the preparatory analysis, and it will be vastly easier to understand and teach this most complicated and difficult part of elocution, tlie right use of the rising and fdling slides. For, then, the one simple j^nViCi/j/e which follows will take the place, and preclude the use of, all the usual perplexing rules, with their many suicidal exceptions. PRINCIPLE FOR RISING OR FALLING SLIDES. Positive ideas should have the * falling* slide; NEGATIVE ideas sliould have the * rising* slide. Examples for tJie rising and falling slides. "The war must go on. We must fight it through. And if the war must go on, why put off longer the declaration of inde- pendence? That measure will strengthen us. It will give us character abroad. " The cause will raise up armies ; the cause will create navies. The people, the people, if we are true to them, will carry lis, and will carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. Sir, the declaration will inspire the people with increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for restoration of privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered immuni- ties, held under a British king, set before them the glorious object of entire independence, and it will breathe iato them anew the breath of life. rNTEODUCTOPtY TREATISE. 31 ** ThroTigli the thick gloom of the present, I see the bright- ness of the future, as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal day. When we are in our graves, out children will honor it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiv- ing, with festivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears, not of subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy." QUESTIONS. Questions, like other ideas, arc negative, or positive, or compound, having one negative and one positive idea. DIRECT QUESTIONS. The direct question for information affirms nothing. ITenco it is read with the rising slide, not because it may be answered by yes or no, but because it is in its nature negative. The answer is positive, and, for that reason, is read with the falling slide. ** Do you see that beautiful star ? " " Yes ; " *'Is n't it splendid?" The speaker is positive, in tlic last (jvicstlon, that his friend will agree with him. This, and all such, must be read, thcre^- fore, with the falling slide. '* I said an elder soldier, not a better. Did I say better ? " *' He hath brought many captives home to Ptome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill ; Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?" ** You all did see, that on the Liipercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown ; Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition ? " " Tell me, ye who tread the sods of yon sacred height, is Warren dead ? Can you not still see him, not pale and proa^ 32 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. trate, the blood of his gallant heart pouring out of his ghastly Avoiind, but moving resplendent over the field of honor, v:\th the rose of heaven upon his cheek, and the fire of liberty in his eye ? ** But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year?" This reading, with iho fallinf; slide on **9/ear," changes the sense, as it makes one idea positive, and the answer must be *'ncxt week," or "next year." But both ideas are negGtice in Henry's speech ; both must have the rising slide, then, according to the principle. '* AT ill it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house?" " Is this a time to bo gloomy and stid, AVhen our mother Nature laughs around ; "When even the deep blue heavens look glad. And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground ? " «* * Will you ride, in the carriage, or on horseback ?' * I pre- fer to walk.' " "'Will you read to us, a piece of prose, or poetry?* Allow me to sing instead.' " ** Will you study miisic, or French ? " All the ideas are iiegative in the last questions. Change f;he sense, and make 07ie idevt, positive in each question, and we luivc one falling slide in each. ** Will you ride in the carriage, or on horseback ? " *•" Will you read to us a piece of prose, or p5etiy ?" ** Will you study music, or French ? " INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 83 INDIRECT QUESTIONS. " AVTic-n are jou going to Europe ? " The prominent idea in tins, is not the real interrogative, the idea of time in "when," but the positive idea, ''You art going to J^jurope." Hence this, and all such questions must \>Q read with the falling slide. But if the interrogative is made the prominent and era* phatic idea, (as when, the answer not being heard, the ques- tion is rcj)eated,) the rising slide must be given. " "When are jou going to Europe ? " *' Why is the Forum crowded? AVhat means this stir in Eome ? " ADDRESS. The address also is positive or negative. It is negative, and read with the rising slide or suspension of the voice, when it is only formal and unemphatic, as " Friends, I come not here to talk." When emphatic it \b positive and demands the falling slide, as in the respectful opening address to any deliberative body or public assembly. '' Mr. President,'' '^ Ladies and Gentle- men.'' POSITIVE ADDRESS AND QUESTIONS. ** Tell me, man of military science, in now many months were the Pilgrims all swept oif by the thirty savage tribes, enumerated within the early limits of New England ? Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find a parallel of this." ** TTas it the winter's storm beating upon the houseless heads of women and children ; was it hard labor and spare meals ; — was it disease, — was it the tomahawk, — was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise, and a broken d 34 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. heart, aching in its last moments at the recollection of the loved, and left beyond the sea ; was it some or all of these united that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate ? " Thtise questions must be read with the "■falling ' slide, to give tlie idea jiositively that each one of the enumerated causes was sufficient to produce the supposed result. The surprise is thus made all the greater in the next sentence, which must be read as an earnest negative with the long * rising ' slide. " And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope ? Is it possible that from the beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, an expansion so ample, a reality so important, a promise yet to be fulfilled, so glorious ! ' ' When surprise thus deepens into astonishment, as it fre- quently does in its climax, the interrogative form should be changed to the exclamatory, which demands the falling slide. " Partakers in every peril, in the glory shall we not be per- mitted to participate ? And shall we be told as a requital that we are estranged from the noble country for whose salvation our life-blood was poured out ! " CONTRASTED SLIDES. When ideas are contrasted in couples, the rising and falling slides must be contrasted in reading them. Contrasted slides may also sometimes be used for greater variety or melody. EXAMPLE. 1. " Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand and heart to this vote." " But, whatever may be (Sur fate, be assured, be assured that this declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost blood; but it will stand, and it will richly compensate for both." *' Suppose that you see, at once, all the hours of the day INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 35 and all the seasons of the year, a morning of spring, and a morning of autumn, a night brilliant with stars, and a night obscure with clouds ; — you will then have a more just notion of the spectacle of the universe. Is it not wondrous, that while you are admiring the sun plunging beneath the vault of the west, another observer is beholding him as he quits the region of the east, — in the same instant reposing, weary, from the dust of the evening, and awaking fresh and youthful, in the dews of morn! " CIRCUMFLEX SLIDES. straight means right, crooked means wrong: hence right ideas demand the right or straight slides, while wrong or croolced ideas demand the crooked or ' circumflex slides' PRINCIPLE. All sincere and earnest^ or, in other words, all upright and downright ideas demand the straight, or upright and dow^nright slides. All ideas which are not sincere or earnest, but are used In jest, or Irony, In ridicule, sarcasm, or mockery, in insinuation or double-meaning, demand the crooked or * circumflex slides.^ The last part of the circumflex is usually the longer, and always the more characterisric part. Hence when the last part of this double slide rises it is called the 'rising cir- cumflex ; ' when the last part falls, it is called the 'falling circumflex.' The ' rising circumflex ' should be given to the negative, the 'falling circumflex' to the positive ideas of jest, irony, &c. AVhen these ideas are coupled in contrast, the circumflex slides must be in contrast also to express them. Example of jest, Marulltjs. You, sir ; what trade are yoii ? 2d Citizen. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine workman, I am but, as you would say, a cobbler. 36 INTRODUCTOHY TliEATISE. Mar. But what trade art thou ? Answer me directly. 2d Cit. a trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use with a safe conscience ; which is, indeed, sir, a mender of bad soles. Mar. What trade, thou knave*? thou naughty knave, what trade ? 2d Cit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out with me : yet, if you be out, sir, I can mend you. Mar. What mean'st thou by that ? Mend me, thou saucy fellow ? 2d Cit. Why, sir, cobble you. Flavius. Thou art a cobbler, art thou ? 2d Cit. Truly sir, all that I live by is with the awl. Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop to-day? W^hy dost thou lead these men about the streets ? 2d Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, to get myseli into more work. But, indeed, sir, we make holiday, to see Cce'sar, and to rejoice in his triumph." In the last sentence, the citizen drops his jesting, and speaks in earnest : and therefore with the strcdyht slides. Mxamples of sarcasm and irony. 2. '* Now, sir, what was the conduct of your own allies to Poland ? Is there a single atrocity of the French in Italy, in Switzerland, in Egypt if you please, more unprincipled and inhuman than that of Eussia, Austria, and Prussia, in Poland ? "6, but you 'regretted the 'partition of Poland!' Yes, regretted! — you regretted the violence, and that is all you did." 3. They boast they come but to improve our state, enlrirgc our thoughts and free us from the yoke of error ! Yes, they will give enlightened freedom to oiir minds, who are tlicmselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride ! Tlicy offer us pro- tection! yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs — cover- ing and devouring them ! Tell your invaders we seek no change — and least of all such change as they would bring us ! " INlT.ODUCTOIiY TREATISE. 37 4. " Good Lord! wben one man dies who wears a Crown, How the earth trembles, — how the nations gape, Amazed and awed ! — but when that one man's victims, Poor worms, unclothed in purple, daily die In the grim cell, or on the groaning gibbet. Or on the civil field, ye pitying souls Drop not one tear from your indifferent eyes!" 5. Cassius. Urge me no more! I shall forget myself; Have mind upon your health ; tempt me no further. Brutus. Away, slight man ! Cas. Is 't possible '? Bru. Hear me, for 1 will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? Shall I be frightened when a madman stares? Cas. ye gods ! ye gods ! Must I endure all this ? Bru. All this? Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break ; Go show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble ! Must I budge ? Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humor ? You shall digest the venom of your spleen. Though it do split you ; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, — yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish ! Cas. Is it come to this ! Bru. You say you are a better soldier: Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, And it shall please mo well. For mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of nobler men. LENGTH OF SLIDES. The lenfffh of the slides depends on the * general spirit ' or ' kind ' af what is read. 38 I]!n:RODUCTOKY TREATISE. PRINCIPLE. If the general spirit is ' unemotional,* the slides are * mode rate J If the general spirit is * bold,' * joyous,' or 'noble,' the slides are ' long.' If the general spirit is * subdued or pathetic ' or * grave,' the slides are * short.' Examples for the ' moderate ' slide, or in the definite language of music, the " lliird." " Can I speak with you a moment ? " " Certainly." *• The ancient Spartans were, not less remarkable for their bravery in the field of battle, than for brevity and wit in their answers. We have a memorable instance of their national spirit, in the reply of the old warrior, who was told that the arrows of the Persian host flew so thick as to darken the sun. ' So much the better,' was his answer ; ' we shall enjoy the advantage of fighting in the shade.' " Examples for the ' long,* slide or the " Fifths " AVhat but liberty Through the famed course of thirteen hundred years, Aloof hath held invasion from your hills. And sanctified their name ? And will ye, will ye Shrink from the hopes of the expecting world, Bid your high honors stoop to foreign insult, And in one hour give up to infamy The harvest of a thousand years of glory ? Die — all first ! Yes, die by piecemeal ! Leave not a limb o'er which a Dane can triumph! " True courage but from opposition grbws ; And what are fifty what a thousand slaves, Matched to the virtue of a single arm That strikes for liberty ? that strikes to save INTHODUCTOKY TllEATISE. 39 His fields from fire, his infants from the sword, And his large honors from eternal infamy ? " ** Ye men of Sweden, wherefore are ye come? See ye not yonder, how the locusts swarm, To drink the fountains of your honor up. And leave your hills a desert ? Wretched men I Why came ye forth ? Is this a time for sport ? Or are ye met with song and jovial feast, To welcome your new guests, your Danish visitants ? To stretch your supple necks beneath their feet And fawning lick the dust ? Go, go, my countrymen. Each to your several mansions, trim them out, Cull all the tedious earnings of your toil. To purchase bondage. — 0, Swedes ! Swedes ! Heavens ! are ye men and will ye suffer this ? — There was a time, my friends, a glorious time ! When, had a single man of your forefathers Upon the frontier met a host in arms, His courage scarce had turned ; himself had stood. Alone had stood, the bulwark of his country." Example for the 'short' slide, or the " Minor Third'' " Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead. Her little bird, — a poor, slight thing the pressure of a finger would have crushed, — was stirring nimbly in its cage, and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute and motionless forever ! "Sorrow was dead, indeed, in her; but peace and perfect happiness were born, — imaged — in her tranquil beauty and profound repose. ** Waking, she never wandered in her mind but once, and that was at beautiful miisic,. which, she said, was in the air ! God knows. It may have been. V Opening her eyes at last from a very quiet sleep, she begged that they would kiss her once again. That done, she turned to the old man, with a lovely smile upon her face, — such, they said, as they had never seen, and never could for- 40 I^'T^iQDUOTOn^ treatise. get — and clung, with both her arms, about his neck. She had never murmured or complained ; but with a qiiict mind, and manner quite unaltered, — save that she every day became more earnest and more grateful to them, — faded like the light upon the summer's evening." PITCH. 1. The ' standard pitch' or 'key-note,* 2. The 'relative pitch ' or ' melody,* The middle pitch is the natural key-note for * unemotional/ * bold,' and * noble ' pieces. A higher pitch is the natural key- note for * animated and joyous,' ' subdued or pathetic,' and ' im- passioned ' pieces. A loiver pitch is required for ' grave ' pieces. The middle or conversational pitch must be used for all 'kinds ' when pupils have not the requisite compass or cultiva- tion of voice to read naturally on a higher or lower • key.' But appropriate variety of pitch on the successive words and syllables, is one of the most essential and beautiful parts of good reading. In perfect elocution, it adds to the eloquence 0^ expressive emphasis, the musical charm of 'natural melody.* NATURAL MELODY Is produced in part by that agreeable modulation of all the elements of expression, which the varied sense and feeling demand, yet it cliiefly depends on a pleasing variation of the radical or opening pitch, on successive syllables. PRINCIPLE. 1. Not more than two or three consecutive syllables should be given on the same tone of the " musical scale." 2. Natural melody demands that this frequent change of pitch on the unemphatic syllables shall be only one tone at a time. Tlie unemphatic syllables form a kind of flexible ladder connecting the emphatic ideas, up and down which we must glide tone by to7ie, so as to be in the right place to give the longer slides on the emphatic words without an unmclodious break in the natural current of the voice, which should flow on smoothly through all changes, (unless there is an abrupt break rN-TKODUCTORY TliEATISE. 41 in the ideas,) just as a good mad runs on over ever-varying hills and vales without ouce losing its smooth continuity. Melody demands that the pitch on runs-cutive emphatic words ah^o be agreeably varied. Our limited space vvill not allow us to mark the many possible permutations o\i pitrh, which may constitute natural melody. We will only repeat the iiiiportant general directions. Avuid irionotony, by giving at most only ta:o or tliree consecutive syllables, on the same tone Avoid making unnatural changes of pitch, of more than one tone at a time. l\r.i up the melody on the negative ideas, so that you will have room above the key-note, to slide down easily on the positive ideas. COMPASS. The compass of voice which should be used also depends on the ' spirit ' of the piece. The most 'joyous 'and most 'impassioned' demands the widest range of pitch, and the greatest natural variety. The ' unemotional ' demands only moderate compass. The * grave ' demands still less variety and compass. And when the ' grave ' deepens into s'lpcrnatural awe or horror, by the game analogy, we may infer that natural variety or melody gives place to an utmntural sameness of utterance, with just that little variety of all the vocal elements which is necessary to express the sense at all. Example for ' middle pitch ' and ' moderate compass.' "It is these which I love and venerate in England. I Fhould feel ashamed of an enthusiasm for Italy and Greece, did I not also feel it for a land like this. In an American, it would seem to me degenerate and ungrateful, to hang with passion upon the traces of Homer and Virgil, and follow with- out emotion, the nearer and plainer footsteps of Shakspeare and Milton." * Joyous ' example for ' higher pitch ' and ' wider compass** ** There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered the* 42 INTEODUCTOKY TREATISE Her beauty and her chivalry ; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. A thousand hearts beat happily, and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell." Grave* example for ♦ lower pitch' and less than 'moderate compass.' *♦ And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, — say I taught thee ; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in, A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels ; how can man then. The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't ? Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's. Thy God's, and truth's: then, if thou fall'st, Cromwell! Thou fall'st a blessed martyr 1 " VOLUME. * JF^ttll volume ' is the most essential element in the truthful expression of ' noble ' sentiment. 1. " Mind is the noblest part of man; and of mind, riF^ THE is the NOBLEST distinction. Honest man, in the ear oi Wisdom, is a grander name, is a more h).gh-sounding title, than 'peer of the realm, or prince of the blood. According to the eternal rules of celestial precedency, in the immortal heraldry of Nature and of Heaven, virtue takes place of all things. It is the nobility of angjblb! It is the majesty of GODl" INTKODUCTORT TEEATISE. 43 In addition to 'full volume,' 'noble* pieces demand slow time, or long quantity and pauses, long slides, and loud but smooth- swelling force on the emphatic words. Full volume distinguishes manly sentiments from the tnin or Jine tone of childlike emotions. 2. " But strew his ashes to the wind, Whose sword or voice has served mankind. And is he dead whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high ? To live in hearts we leave behind, Is not to die. «*l3 *t death to fall for Treedom's right? He 's dead alone that lacks her light I And murder sullies in Heaven's sight The sword he draws : — "What can alone ennoble fight ? A noble cause ! " STKESS. Stress is not the degree but the hind of emphatic force we use. The same degree of loudness may be given to a syllable abrvptly and suddtnly, as in sharp command, or smoothly and gradually, as in the noble examples given above. This sudden and harsh kind of force we will call * abrupt stress ; ' tha other ' smooth stress. ' PRINCIPLE. ' Abrupt stress ' should be given to all ahnij)t or harsh ideas, and pleasant or * smooth %tress ' to ail good or vleasant ideas. Mere command is abrupt ; indignation, anger, defiance, revenge, &c. , are all abrupt in their very nature ; and, there- fore, must be read with the * abrupt stresSk' 14 ITS^TRODUCTORr TREATISE, ABRUPT STRESS. 1. Impatient command. -' Hence ! home you idle creatures, get you home. You Mocks, you stones, you WOESE than senseless things Be gone / Eun to your houses, fall upon your knees. Pray to the gods to inierrmt the plague That need^ must light on this ingratitude.** The force must be thrown with an abrupt Jerk on the emphatic syllables. 2. Anger, (Loitd as well as * abrvpt ' force and * lonj i'lides.^) '* Cassius. That you have wronged me doth appear in tliis ; You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella, For taking bribes here of the Sardians ; Wherein, my letter, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, was slighted off. Brutus. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. Cas. In such a time as this is it not meet That every nice offence should bear its comment ? Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching palm ; To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. Cas. I an itching palm ? You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption, And chastisement does therefore hide his head. Cas. Chastisement? Bru. Eemember March, the ides of March remember. Did not great Julius bleed for justice's sake ? What villain touched his body, that did stab, And not for justice? What! shall one of us, ^ ^ INrEODUCTORY TREATISE. 45 That struck tlie foremost man of all this -world, But for supporting robbers, — shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors, For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Eoman." 3. Defiance, {Very 'abrupt* and ^lovd,* with * long slides.') ** I have returned, 7i6t as the right honorable member has said, to raise another storm, — I have returned to protect that constitution, of which I was the parent and the founder, from the assassination of such men as the honorable cfentle- man and his unworthy associates. They are corrupt — they are seditious — and they, at this very moment, are in a con- SPLRACY against their country ! Here I stand for impeachment or trial ! I dare accusation ! I defy the honorable gentle- man ! I defy the goveunment ! I defy their whole PHA- LANX I Let them come forth ! I tell the ministers I will neither give them quarter, nor take it ! " , 4. Indignation, ** Who is the man, that, in addition to the disgraces and mischiefs of the war, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage? — to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitant of the woods? — to delegate to the merciless Indian the defence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren ? My lords, we are called upon as members of this house, as men, as Christian men, to protest against such horrible barbarity." SMOOTH STRESS. All pleasant and good ideas demand * smooth stress * of force, free from all abruptness. 46 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. In 'joyous' pieces, when tlie time is fast, the stress must be given with a lu-el//, springing sivell oi the voice, which throws the force smoothly on the middle of the sound. Hence it is called the * median ' stress. ^ Animated and joyous' examples for smooth stress. 1. " His cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. '♦ He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn ; While memory each scene gayly covered with flowers, And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn." In the following example of * noble,' manly joy, the happy median stress swells with the same smooth, springing force as above, but with more fulness and longer quantity and pauses. 2. ** Fellow Citizens, — I congratulate you, — I give you joy, on the return of this anniversary. I see, before and around me, a mass of faces, glowing with cheerfulness and patriotic pride. This anniversary animates and gladdens and unites all American hearts. Every man's heart swells within him, — every man's port and bearing becomes some- what more proud and lofty, as he remembers that seventy-five years have rolled away, and that the great inheritance of liberty is still his ; his, undiminished and unimpaired ; his, in all its original glory ; his to enjoy, his to protect, and his to transmit to future generations." * Subdued * example for gentle hut happy median or smooth stress. "At last, Malibran came ; and the child sat with his glance riveted upon her glorious face. Could he believe that the grand lady, all blazing with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship, would really sing his little song? Breath- INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 47 less lie waited; — the band, the whole band, struck up a little plaintive melody. He knew it, and clapped his hands for joy. " And oh ! how she sung it ! It was so simple, so mourn- ful, so soul-subduing ; — many a bright eye dimmed with tears ; and naught could be heard but the touching words of that little song, — oh ! so touching ! " Little Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for money now ? The greatest singer in all Europe had sung his little song, and thousands liad wept at his grief. " Thus she, who was the idol of England's nobility, went about doing good. And in her early, happy death, when the grave-damps gathered over her brow, and her eyes grew dim, he who stood by her bed, his bright face clothed in the mourn- ing of sighs and tears, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his undying affection, was the little Pierre of former days, — now rich, accomplished, and the most talented composer of his day." * NoUe ' example for prolonged, fvll-sweUinjg median or smooth stress. " We must forget all feelings save the one ; We must behold no object save our country; — And only look on death as beautiful. So that the sacrifice ascend to Heaven, And draw down freedom on her evermore. * But if we fail ? ' They never fail, who die In a great cause ! The block may soak their gore ; Their heads may sodden in the sun ; their limbs Be strung to city gates and castle walls ; — But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts W^hich overpower all others, and conduct The world, at last, to freedom ! " 48 INTKODUCTORY TREATISE. JExamples for the longest * quantity ' and fullest * swell' of the median or smooth stress. *" liberty ! sound once delightful to every Koman ear I sacred privilege of Eoman citizenship ! once sacred, — now trampled on I" «* Ye crags and peaks, I 'm with you once again I sacred forms, how proud you look I How high you lift your heads into the sky I How huge you are ! how mighty and how free I ** Ye guards of liberty, 1 'm with you once again." ** The land that bore you — 1 Bo honor to her ! Let her glory in Your breeding." " These are Thy glorious works, Parent of Good. Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ! Thyself how wondrous, then I *' Example for * noble ^ hut happy * median stress.* '* The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. *♦ He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my souL" QUALITY OP VOICE. Quality of voice is 'pure ' or * impure.* It is ' pure ' when all the breath used is vocalized. It is ' impure ' or aspirated when only a part of the breath is vocalized. PRINCIPLE. < Pure qualify ' should be used to express all pure ideas ; that is, all good and agreeable ideas. INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 49 * Impure quality ^^ or aspirated, should be used to ex- press all impure ideas ; that is, all had or disagreeable ideas. Examples of * impure quality.^ Painful earnestness or anxiety demands this 'aspirated quality ' with * abrupt stress. ' 1. *♦ Take care I your very life is endangered I " 2. " Oh ! 't was a fearsome sight ! Ah me I A deed to shudder at, — not to see." 3. " "While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips, •' The foe I they come, they come 1 " 4. *' He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck, — . Amazement confronts him with images dire, — "VYild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck: The masts fly in splinters, the shrouds are on fire I " Like mountains the billows tremendously swell : In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ; Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave." Extreme aspiration should mark the fear and horror in the following words of Macbeth. 5. "I '11 go no more : I am afraid to think what I have done ; ^ Look on't again I dare not." Strmiff aspiration and ' abrupt stress,* 6. "I am astonished, shocked, to hear such principles confessed, — to hear them avowed in this house, or in this country ; — principles equally unconstitutional, inhuman, and unchristian ! " 5 50 INTRODUCTOKY TREATISE. * Bold* and * impassioned* examples for very ' abrupt stress and ' aspirated quality ' on the emphatic words* 7. ** It was the act of a coward, who raises his arm to strike, but has not the courage to give the blow ! I will not call him villian, because it would be unparliamentary, and he is a privj councillor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to be chancellor of the exchequer. But I say he is one who has abused the privilege of parliament and freedom of debate, to the uttering of language which, if spoken out of the house, I should answer only with a blow I I care not how high his situation, how low his character, or how contemptible his speech ; whether a privy councillor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow 1 " 8. ** The wretch, who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure him from insult." 9. " If ye are beasts, then stand here like fat oxen waiting for the butcher's knife." This quality of voice demands that the aspirates and the less resonant consonants be made very prominent in the enun- ciation, while the purer vowels and the liquid, pleasant conso^ nants reserve their prominence till pure tone is required. All examples of ' aspirated quality ' require abrupt stress. * Contemptuous and ironical ' example, 10. " But base ignoble slaves, — slaves to a horde Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords Eich in some dozen paltry villages, — Strong in some hundred spearmen, — only great In that strange spell — a name." Examples of ^ pure quality* 1. ** That which befits us, imbosomed in beauty and won- der as we are, is cheerfulness and courage, and the endeavor to realize our aspirations." INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 61 Example of pure tonCy with lively, median stre.'^ 2. " It is now sixteen or seventeen years since I saw the Queen of France, then the Dauphiness, at Versailles, and surely never lighted on this orb, which sho hardly seemed to touch, a more delightful vision. " I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in, glittering like the morning-star, full of life, and splendor, and joy." * Lower pitch* and * slower time.* ^ Long ijuantity* and prolonged median stress. 8. ** ! what a revolution ! and what a heart must I have to contemplate without emotion, that elevation and that fall ! Little did I dream that I should have lived to see such dis- asters fallen upon her, in a Xation of gallant men, in a Nation of men of honor, and of cavaliers ! I thought ten thousand swords must have leaped from their scabbards, to avenge even a look that threatened her with insult. " But the age of chivalry is gone, and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever." The following selection from Shelley'a " To a Skylark." is full of rapturous beauty, and requires the ' purest tone and the smoothest and happiest ' median stress,' prolonged with swelling fulness on the emphatic words: — 4. ** Hail to thee, blithe spirit, — Bird thou never wert, — That from heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. " Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest j Like a cloud of fire, 52 INTRODUCTOKY TREATISE. The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest " In the golden lightning Of the sunken sun, O'er which clouds are brightening, Thou dost float and run, Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun, " All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare. From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed " What thou art, we know not ; What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see. As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. "Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found. Thy skill to poet were, thou scomer of the ground ! " Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow. The world should listen then, as I am listening now." * Nolle ' example for ^ pure tone,* to he given also with full 'median stress.* 'f We wish that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, may INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 53 contribute also to produce, in all minds, a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, a^d the first to gladden him who revisits it, may be something which shall remind him of the liberty and glory of his coun- try. Let it rise till it meet the sun in his coming ; let the earliest light of morning gild it, and parting day linger and play upon its summit." * Subdued examples ' for very soft force, ' short slides,' and gentle, 'median stress,' and the 'purest quality.' " I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am ; And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb. How sadly, 1 remember, rose the morning of the year ! To die before the snow-drop came, and now the violet 's here. sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies. And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise, And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go. " look ! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow ; He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done, The voice that now is speaking may be beyond the sun — Forever and forever ; all in a blessed home — And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come — To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast — And the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest." * Joyous ' example for 'pure quality ' and happy ' median stress.^ " And what is so rare as a day in June ? Then, if ever, come perfect days ; Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays : Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 6* 64 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives." A striking example of both qualities may be taken from the dialogue between "Old Shylock" and "Portia." The tones of Shylock's voice, to express his spite and revenge, must be marked by the most abrupt • stress' and 'aspirated or impure quality ; ' while the beautiful sentiments of Portia demand the * smoothest stress ' and * purest quality,* " Portia. Do you confess the bond ? Antonio. I do. PoR. Then must the Jew be merciful. Shylock. On what compulsion must I ? Tell me that. PoR, The quality of mercy is not strained ; It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless' d ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : *T is mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown : It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself. And earthly power doth then shew likest God's, When mercy seasons justice." Having thus treated of, and illustrated with various kinds of pieces, each one of the elements of elocution, separately, let us now finish our work by learning how all these separate elements unite together and Ucnd in the natural expression of ^cA ' kind * of eentimeut. INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 56 * Unemotional ' pieces should have * moderate ' * standard force ' and ' time ' and ' slides ' and * volume/ ' middle pitch,' * smooth stress,' and * pure quality ' of voice. Unemotional Example. *' There is something noblj simple and pure in a taste for the cultivation of forest trees. It argues, I think, a sweet and generous nature, to have a strong relish for the beauties of vegetation, and a friendship for the hardy and glorious sons of the forest. He, who plants an oak, looks forward to future ages, and plants for posterity. Nothing can he less selfish than this. He cannot expect to sit in its shade and enjoy its shelter; but he exults in the idea that the acorn which he has buried in the earth shall grow up into a lofty pile, and shall keep on flourishing and increasing and benefiting mankind, long after he shall have ceased to tread his paternal fields." * Bold ' pieces should have * loud * ' standard force,' * long slides,' 'moderate time,' with long quantity on the emphatio Byllables, * middle pitch,' ' abrupt stress,' and slightly ' aspi- rated quality.' Bold Example. " Who, then, caused the strife That crimsoned Naseby's field, and Marston's Moor ? It was the Stuart ; — so the Stuart fell ! A victim, in the pit himself had digged ! He died not, sirs, as hated kings have died, In secret and in shade, — no eye to trace The one step from their prison to their pall : He died in the eyes of Europe, — in the face Of the broad Heaven ; amidst the sons of England, AVhom he had outraged ; by a solemn sentence. Passed by a solemn Court. Does this seem guilt ?. You pity Charles I *t is well ; but pity more The tens of thousand honest humble men, "Who, by the tyranny of Charles compelled To draw the sword, fell, butchered in the field I" 66 INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 'Animated or joyous' pieces should have 'fast time,* lively, springing 'median stress,' * pure quality,' ' long slides,* 'high pitch,' and * loud force.' Joyous Example, " You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, To-morrow '11 be the happiest time of all the glad New-Year; Of all the glad New- Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day; For I 'm to be Queen o* the May, mother, I 'm to be Queen o' the May. ** I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay, Por I 'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I 'm to be Queen o* the May." * Subdued or pathetic* pieces should have * soft force,' ' short (or minor) slides,' • slow time,' gentle * median stress,' 'pure quality,' 'high pitch,* and less than 'moderate volume.* Subdued or Pathetic Example. ** If you 're waking call me early, call me early, mother dear. For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New- Year. It is the last New- Year that I shall ever see, Then you may lay me low i' the mould and think no more of me. " To-night I saw the sun set ! he set and left behind The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind. And the New-YeAr 's coming up, mother, but I shall never see The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree." * Grave * pieces should have * low pitch,' ' slow time,* with *long quantity and pauses,' 'full volume' 'soft force' and * short slides' — also • smooth stress' and 'pure quality* when the ideas are reverential or solemn merely — but more or less * abrupt stress ' and * aspirated quality ' when characterized by fear or aversion, as in ' dread,' * awe,* and ' horror.' INTRODUCTORY TREATISE. 67 Grave Example. ** Come to the bridal chamber, — Death ! Come to the mother, when she feels Tor the first time her first-born's breath ; Come when the blessed seals That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke ; Come in Consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake shock, the ocean storm, Come when the heart beats high and warm With banquet-song and dance and wine, — And thou art terrible ! the tear, — The groan, — the knell, — the pall, — the bier. And all we know, or dream, or fear, Of agony are thine. * Noble' pieces should have ' full- swelling volume' and * median stress,' with ' long quantity ' and ' long slides>' * loud force,' * pure quality,' and ' middle pitch.' Nolle Example. ** But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Bozzaris ! with the storied Brave Greece nurtured in her glory's time, Best thee ! there is no prouder grave, Even In her own proud clime. We tell thy doom without a sigh ; For thou art Freedom's now and Fame's, — One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die I " Both * ludicrous* and 'sarcastic' pieces should have long circumflex slides ' and * compound ' 'abrupt stress,' 'long quan- 58 INTEODUCTORr TREATISE. tity and pauses ' on the emphatic words ; but punning and raillery, when good-natured, should have a 'higher pitch,' 'faster time,' and 'purer quality' than belongs to sarcasm "which should have the ' middle pitch,' * aspirated quality,' and rather ' slow time.' With both kinds the ' force ' changes from * moderate ' to louder with the boldness of the spirit. In the following example the part of Sir Peter Teazle should be read with strongly * aspirated quality ' and * abrupt stress,* while the half-laughing raillery of Lady T. should have the * pure quality ' and ' tremulous stress ' mingled with the * com- pound.' and ' higher pitch ' and ' less volume.' lyudicrous or sarcastic example. " Sir Peter. Very well, ma'am, very well — so a husband is to have no influence, no authority ? Lady T. Authority! No, to be sure: — if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me ; I am sure you were old enough. Sir p. Old enough ! — ay, there it is. Well, well. Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper I'll not be ruined by your extravagance. Lady T. My extravagance! Sir Peter, am I to blame because flowers are dear in cold weather? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I 'm sure, I wish it was spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet ! Sir p. Zounds! madam — if you had been born to this, I should n't wonder at your talking thus ; but you forget what jour situation was when I married you. Lady T. No, no, I don't ; 't was a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you. Sir Peter ! would j'ou have jae be out of the fashion ? Sir p. The fashion, indeed! What had you to do with the fashion before you married me ? Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like to aav^ your wife thought a woman of taste. rfi^ P. Ay, there again — taste. Zounds! madam, you baa iiO taste when you married me I INTRODUCTOKY TREATISE. 59 Ladt T. That's very true, indeed, Sir Peter; and after having married you I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneer- well's. Sir p. Ay, there 's another precious circumstance — a charming set of acquaintance you have made there." Example of hitter irony and sarcasm closing/ with the impassioned kind. '• I speak not to you, Mr. Eenwick, of your own outcast condition ; — perhaps you delight in the perils of martyrdom : I speak not to those around us, who, in their persons, their substance, and their families, have endured the torture, poverty, and irremediable dishonor. They may be meek and hallowed men, willing to endure ; and as for my wife — what was she to you ? Ye cannot be greatly disturbed that she is in her grave. No, ye are quiet, calm, prudent persons ; it would be a most indiscreet thing of you, you who have suffered no wrongs yourselves, to stir on her account. ** In truth, friends, Mr. Picnwick is quite right. This feeling of indignation against our oppressors is a most imprudent thing. If we desire to enjoy our own contempt, to deserve the derision of men, and to merit the abhorrence of Heaven, let us yield ourselves to all that Charles Stuart and his sect require. AVe can do nothing better, nothing so meritorious, — nothing by which we can so reasonably hope for punishment here and condemnation hereafter. But if there is one man at this toecting, — I am speaking not of shapes and forms, but of Teslings, — if there is one here that fceli as men were wont to feel, he will draw his sword, and say with me, "Woe to the bouse of Stuart ! woe to the oppressors ! " ' Impassioned ' pieces, such as the last of the example above and the following, should have ' very loud force,' * very long glides,' *vory abrupt stress.' Time accelerating as the pas- 60 INTEODUCTOllY TREATISE. Bion cuinulates, from 'moderate' to 'faster,' with 'very lon^ quantity' on the emphatic words, 'middie and hii^hcr pit.h* and 'quality,' (where the passion is not malignant,) only slightly 'aspirated.' Impassioned example. " * My castles arc my king's alone, Prom turret to foundation stone ; The hand of Douglas is his own, And never shall in friendly grasp The hand of such as Marmion clasp I ' Burned Marmion' s swarthy cheek like fire, And shook his very frame for ire, And ' This to mc ! ' he said ; * An 'twere not for thy hoary heard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas's head ! And, Douglas, more I tell thee here E'en in thy pitch of pride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near, I tell thee, thou 'rt defied ! And if thou saidst I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here. Lowland or highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! ' On the earl's check the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age ; Fierce he hroke forth : ' And dar'st thou, then, To beard the lion in his den. The Douglas in his hall ? And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go ? No I by Saint Bride of Bothwcll, no ! Up drawbridge, groom ! What, warder, ho I Let the portcullis fall ! ' " PART II. EEA-DIN^a LESSONS. L — THE TWO ROADS. KiCHTER. [Jean Paul Frederic Richter was born in Wunsicdel, in Germany, March 81, irm, and died November 14, 1825. He wrote a number of works, mostly in the form of novels, which are remarkable for a peculiar combination of im- agination, tenderness, quaint luimor, phiJosopliic spirit, and curious learning. He is an extremely popular writer among liis c wn couutrymen, but mucii of the flavor of his writings evaporates in a translation. His personal character was generous and amiable. He is frequently called by his first two names, Jean Paul.] 1. It was New-Year's night. An aged man was stand- ing at a window. He raised his mournful eyes towards the deep-blue sky, where the stars were floating, like white lilies, on the surface of a clear, calm lake. Then he cast them on the earth, where few more hopeless beings than himself now moved towards their certain goal* — the tomb. 2. Already he had passed sixty of the stages'^ which lead to it, and he had brought from his journey nothing but errors and remorse. His health was destroyed, his mind vacant, his heart sorrowful, and his old age devoid of comfort. 3. The days of his youth rose up in a vision' before him, and he recalled the solemn moment when his father had placed him at the entrance of two roads, — one leading into a peaceful, sunny land, covered with a fertile harvest, and resounding with soft, sweet songs ; the other leading 6 (61) 62 THE FIFTH READER. the wanderer into a deep, dark cave, whence there was no issue*, where poison flowed instead of water, and where serpents hissed and crawled. 4. He looked towards the sky, and cried out in his agony, "O youth, return! O my father, place me once more at the entrance to life, that I may choose the better way ! " But his father and the days of his youth had both passed away. 5. He saw wandering lights floating away over dark marshes, and then disappear. These were the days of his wasted life. He saw a star fall from heaven, and vanish in darkness. This was an emblem* of himself ; and the sharp an'ows of unavailing remorse* struck home to his heart. Then he remembered his early companions, who entered on life with him, but who, having trod the paths of virtue and of labor, were now honored and happy on this New- Year's night. 6. The clock, in the high church tower, struck, and the sound, falling on his ear, recalled his parents' early love for him, their erring son ; the lessons they had taught him ; the prayers they had offered up in his behalf. Over- whelmed with shame and grief, he dared no longer look towards that heaven where his father dwelt; his darkened eyes dropped tears, and with one despairing effort, he cried aJoud, " Come back, my early days ! come back ! " 7. And> his youth did return ; for all this was but a dream which visited his slumbers on New-Year's night. He was still young ; his faults alone were real. He thanked God fervently that time was still his own ; that he had not yet entered the deep, dark cavern, but that he was free to tread the road leading to the peaceful land where sunny harvests wave. 8. Ye who still linger on the threshold' of life, doubting which path to choose, remember that, when years are passed, and your feet stumble on the dark mountain, you THE FIFTH READER. 6S will cry bitterly^, but cry in vain, '-O youth, return I give me back my early days ! " o, ^ Goal. A post or mark set to bound a race ; end. * Sta9'?§. Steps or degrees of ad- vance or progress. 8 VI"§i watched for it, standing hand in hand at a window. Whoever saw it first, cried out, " I see the star ! " And often they cried out both together, knowing so well when it would rise, and where. So they grew to be such friends with it, that, before lying down in their beds, they always looked out once again, to bid it good night; and when they were turning round to sleep, they used to say, " God bless the star!" 4. But while she was still very young, — O, very, very young, — the sister drooped, and came to be so weak that she could no longer stand in the window at night; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and, when he saw the star, turned round and said to the patient, pale race on the bed, "I see the star!" and then a smile would come upon the face, and a little, weak voice used to say, " God bless my brother and the star ! " 5. And so the tiuie came, — all too soon, — when the child looked out alone, and when there was no face on the bed; and when there was a little grave among the graves, not there before; and when the star made long rays down towards him, as he saw it through his tears. 6. Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make such a shining way from earth to heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed, he dreamed about the star; and he dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw a train ^ of people taken up that sparkling* road by an- gels.* And the star, opening, showed him a great world of light, where many more such angels waited to receive them. 7. All these angels, who were waiting, turned their beaming® eyes upon the people who were carried up into THE FIFTH READER. 65 the star; and some came out from the long rows in which they stood, and tell upon the people's necks, and kissed them tenderly, and went away with them down avenues of light, and were so happy in their company, that, lying in his bed, he wept for joy. 8. But there were many angels who did not go with them, and among them one he knew. The patient face that once had lain upon the bed was glorified' and radiant ^j but his heart found out his sister among all the host. 9. His sister's angel lingered near the entrance of the star, and said to the leader among those who had brought the people thither, " Is my brother come ? " 10. And he said, "No." 11. She was turning hopefully away, when the child stretched out his arms, and cried, '• O sister, I am here ! Take me ! " And then she turned her beaming eyes upon bim, and it was night ; and the star was shining into the room, making long rays down towards him as he saw it through his tears. 12. From that hour forth, the child looked out upon the star as on the home he was to go to, when his time should come ; and he thought that he did not belong to the earth alone, but to the star too, because of his sister's angel gone before. 13. There was a baby born to be a brother to the child ; and while he was so little that he never yet had spoken a word, he stretched his tiny form out on his bed, and died. 14. Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of the company of angels, and the train of people, and the rows of angels, with their beaming eyes all turned upon those people's faces. 15. Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brother come ? " 16. And he said, "Kot that one, but another." 6* «y6 THE FIFTH READEE. 17. As the child beheld liis brother's angel in her arms, he cried, "O sister, I am here! Take me!" And she tm-ned and smiled upon him, and the star was shining. 18. He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books, when an old servant came to him, and said, "Thy mother is no more. I bring her blessing^ on her darling «on.» 19. Again at night he saw the star, and all that former company. Said his sister's angel to the leader, "Is my brother come ? " 20. And he said, "Thy mother!" 21. A mighty cry of joy went foith through all the star, because the mother was reunited to her two children. And he stretched out his arms, and cried, "O motlier, sister, and brother, I am here! Take me!" And they answered him, " Not yet." And the star was shining. 22. He grew to be a man whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in his chair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and with his face bedewed *° with tears, when the star opened once again. 23. Said his sister's angel to the leader, " Is my brother come ? " 24. And he said, *' Nay, but his maiden daughter." 25. And the man who had been the child saw his daughter, newly lost to him, a celestial" creature among those three, and he said, " My daughter's head is on my sister's bosom, and her arm is round my mother's neck, and at her feet there is the baby of old time, and I can bear the parting from her, God be praised ! " And the star was shining. 26. Thus the child came to be an old man, and his once smooth face was wrinkled, and his steps were slow and feeble, and his back was bent. And one night, as he lay upon his bed, his children standing round, he cried, as be had cried so long ago, " I see the star ! " THE FIFTH READER. tr 27. They whispered one another, " He is dying." 28. And he said, "I am. My age is falling from me like a garment, and I move towards the star as a child. And O, my Father, now I thank thee that it has so often opened to receive those dear ones who await me ! " 29. And the star. was shining; and it shines upqn his grave. 1 Strolled. Wandered ; strayed. s Spire. A structure which tapers to a point at the top ; a steeple. » Train. A number of objects in a line ; a number of persons in a line ; a procession. 4 Spark'lins. Glittering ; bright, as if emitting sparks. 4 An '9 EL. An inhabitant of heaven ; a good spirit. 8 Beam'jng. Shining ; emitting rays or beams of light. 1 Glo'ri-fied. Made glorious. 8 Ra'd|-ant, Shining; effulgent. 9 liLfiss'iNG. Prayer imploring hap pincss for another. 10 Be-dewed' (be-dud'). Wet with dew or as with dew ; moistened. 11 Ce-lEst'i^l (-y?l). Of heavea; heavenly. III. — ONE BY ONE. Miss Pkoctek. 1. OxE by one the sands are flowing, One by one the moments fall ; Some are coming, some are going; Do not strive to catch them all. 2. One by one thy duties wait thee ; Let thy whole strength go to each ; Let no future dreams elate ' thee ; Learn thou first what these can teach. 3. One by one (bright gifts from heaven) Joys are sent thee here below ; Take them readily when given,— Ready, too, to let them go. 68 THE FIFTH READER. 4 One by one thy griefs shall meet thee; Do not fear an armed band ; One will fade as others greet thee, — Shadows passing through the land, 5. Do not look at life's long sorrow ; See how small each moment's pain : God will help thee for to-morrow j Every day begin again. 6. Every hour, that fleets " so slowly, Has its task to do or bear; Luminous^ the crown*, and holy, If thou set each gem with care. 7. Hours are golden links — God's token Reaching heaven; but one by one. Take them, lest the chain be broken Ere thy pilgrimage* be done. 1 E-lXte'. Elevate as with success ; pviff up. I FlE£ts. Passos away. 8 LO'MJ-Novs. Emittiu-j light} bright. * Croa^n. Reward ; recompense. 6 PIl'grjm-a^e. a long journey, par« tieuliirly, a journey to a plao« deemed sacred ; jouruey of life. IV.— HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE. Collins. [WilHam Collins was an English poet, born in 1720, and died in 175«. These lines were written in honor of the men who fell at the battle of Cullodon, April 16, 1740), in which the Scottish rebels, under Prince Charles, were defeated by the English, under the Duke of Cumberland ] 1. How sleep the Brave, who sink to rest, By all tlieir country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed ' mould. She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. THE FIFTH EEADER. 69 2. By fairy ^ hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge ^ is sung : There Honor comes, a pilgrim* gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall a while repair, To dwell, a weeping hermit \ there ! 1 HXl lowed. Holy; sacred. « FAiR'Y. A fabled small beinj human form. * DiR<^E. A funeral song. < PIl'grim. One who leaves his home or country on account of religion. 5 IlER'MiT. One who retires from 8C ciety and lives in solitude. v. — THE FORGIVEN DEBT. L. M. Sargent. [Lucius Manlius Sarg^ent was born June 25, 178fi, and died June 2, 1867. He was a frequent coutributor to the newspaper press of Boston, and was the au- thor of a well-known series of temperance tales, which are of marked merit, and have been widely read.] 1. About the beginning of the present century', a Boston merchant, who had been extensively engaged in commerce'-', died at a good old age, without leaving any will. He had been for many years largely interested in the fishing business, and his name was familiar to all the hardy fishermen of Cape Cod. His eldest son adminis- tered ^ upon the estate. 2. Among his papers, a packngc of considerable size was found, after his death, carefully tied up, and labelled as follows: "Notes, due bills, and accounts against sundry persons down along-shore*. Some of these may be got by a suit or severe dunning. But the people are poor; most of them have had fisherman's luck. My children will do as they think best. Perhaps they will think, with me, that it is best to burn this package entire." 3. "About a month," said my informant, "after our fethei died, the sons met together, and, after some general 70 THE FIFTH READER. remarks, our eldest brother, the administrator, produced this package, of whose existence we were ab*eady apprised, read the superscription ^, and asked what course should be taken in regard to it. Anotlier brother, a few years younger than the eldest, a man of strong, impulsive tem- perament, unable at the moment to express his feeling by words, while he brushed the tears from his eyes with one hand, by a spasmodic " jerk of the other towards the fire- place, indicated his desire to have the paper put into the flames. 4. " It was suggested by another of our number, that it might be well first to make a list of the debtors' names, and of tlie dates and accounts, that we might be enabled, as the intended discharge was for all, to inform such as miglit offer payment, that their debts were forgiven. On the following day we again assembled ; the list had been prepared, and all the notes, due bills, and accounts, whose amount, including interest, exceeded thirty-two thousand dollars, were committed to the flames. 5. " It was in the month of June, about four months afler our father's death, that, as I was sitting in my eldest brother's counting-room, waiting for an opportunity to speak to him, there came in a hard -favored', little old man, who looked as if time and rough weather had been to the windward of him for seventy years. He asked if my brother was not the executor ^ He replied that he was administrator, as our father died intestate ^ *Well,' said the stranger, ' I have come up from the Cape to pay a debt I owed the old gentleman.' My brother." continued my imformant, "requested him to be seated, being at the moment engaged. 6. "The old man sat down, and, putting on his glasses, drew out a very ancient leather w^allet.. When he had done this and sat, with quite a parcel of notes, waiting hia turn, slowly twirling his thumbs, with his old, gray, modi- THE FIFTH READER. 71 tatlve eyes upon the floor, he sighed ; and I well knew the money, as the phrase runs, came hard, and I secretly wished the old man's name might be found upon the for- given list. My brother was soon at leisure, and aslied him his name, and other common questions. The original debt was four hundred and forty dollars : it had stood a long time, and with the interest amounted to a sum between seven and eight hundred dollars. 7. " My brother went to his table, and, after examining the forgiven list attentively, a sudden smile lighted up his countenance, and told me the truth at a glance — the old man's name was there. My brother quietly took a chair by his side, and a conversation ensued between them, which I shall never forget. ' Your note is outlawed 'V said my brother ; ' it was dated twelve years ago, payable in two years ; there is no witness, and no interest has ever been paid ; you are not bound to pay this note : we cannot re- cover the amount.' 8. " ' Sir,' said the old man, * I wish to pay it. It is the only heavy debt I have in the world. I should like to pay it ; ' and he laid the bank notes before my brother, and requested him to count them over. *I cannot take this money,' said my brother. 9. " The old man became alarmed. ' I have cast simple interest" for twelve years and a little over,' said the old man. 'I will pay you compound interest" if you say so. That debt ought to have been paid long ago ; but your father, sir, was very indulgent : he knew I had been unfor, tunate, and told me not to worry about it.' 10. " My brother then set the whole matter plainly before him, and, taking the bills, returned them to the old man, telling him, that although our father left no formal will, he had recommended to his children to destroy certain notes, due bills, and other evidences of debt, and release those who might be legally bound to pay them For a moment 72 THE FIFTH READER. the worthy old man seemed to be stupefied. After he had collected himself'*, and wiped a few tears from his eyes, he stated, that from the time he had heard of our father's death, he had raked and scraped, and pinched and spared, to get the money together for the payment of this debt. 11. "'About ten days ago,' said he, 'I had made up the Bum within twenty dollars. My wife knew how much the payment of this debt lay upon my spirits, and advised me to sell a cow, and make up the difference, and get the heavy burden off my spirits. I did so — and now what will my wife say ? I must get home to the Cape, and tell her this good news. She'll probably say over the very words she said when she put her hands on my shoulder as we parted — "I have never seen the righteous man forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." ' After a liearty shake of the hand, and a blessing upon our father's memory, he went upon his way rejoicing. 12. "After a short silence, seizing his pencil and making a computation, — ' There,' exclaimed my brother, ' your part of the amount would be so much : contrive a plan to con- vey to me your share of the pleasure derived from this operation, and the money is at your service.' " 1 CfiNT'v-Ry. A period of one hundred years. « CSm'merce. Traffic, or the inter- change of property on a large scale. 8 i\D-MTN'is-TERED. To administer up- on an estate is to manag'e the prop- erty of one who has made no will. ♦ A-LONG'-SHdRE. A colloquial term applied to places along the coast or shore ; here, applied to the shore in the south-eastern part of Mas- sachusetts. 6 Super scrIp'tion. What is writ- ten on the top or outside. 6 Spa?-ivi6d'ic. Convulsive. I Hard-fa'vqred. Having coarse or harsh features. 8 E?-tc'v-TQR. One appointed by a person, in his last will, to see that his will is carried into effect. 9 In-t£s'tate. Dying without hav- ing made a will. 10 OOt'lAwed. Ceased to have a legal value. Notes become outlawed in six years from the time when their payment is due. 11 In'ter-est. Money paid for the use of money. Simple interest is interest upon the principal only. Compound interest is interest upon both the principal, and the interest that has become due. 12 Col-l15ct'ed hIm-self . Became calm or composed. THE FIFTH READER. 73 VI. — AN INDIAN STRATAGEM. 1. DuRTXG the war of the American revolution, a regi- ment' of foot soldiers was stationed upon the confines'' of an extensive savanna^ in the southern part of the Union. Its particular office was to guard every avenue of approach to the main army. The sentinels *, whose posts ^ penetrated into the woods, were supplied from the ranks; but they were perpetually surprised upon their posts by the Indians, and borne off their stations, without communicating any_ alarm, or being heard of afterwards. 2. One morning, the sentinels having been stationed as usual over night, the guard went at sunrise to relieve a post which extended a considerable distance into the wood. The sentinel was gone. The surprise was great; but the circumstance had occurred before. They left another man, and departed, wishing him better luck. " You need not be afroid," said the man, with warmth ; " I shall not desert." 3. The sentinels were replaced every four hours, and, at the appointed time, the guard again marched to relieve the post. To their inexpressible astonishment, the man was gone. They searched round the spot, but no traces of him could be found. It was now more necessary than ever that the station should not remain unoccupied ; they left another man, and returned to the guard-house. 4. The superstition^ of the soldiers was awakened, and terror ran throuo^h the reiriment. The colonel ', beinoc apprised of the occurrence, signified his intention to .iccompany the guard when they relieved the sentinel they had left. At the appointed time, they all marched together; and again, to their unutterable wonder, they found the post vacant, and the man gone. 5. Under these circumstances, the colonel hesitated 7 74 THE FIFTH READER. whether he should station a whole company^ on the spot, or whether he should again submit the post to a single sentinel. The cause of these repeated disappearances of men whose courage and honesty weie never suspected, must be discovered; and it seemed not likely that this discovery could be obtained by persisting in tlie old method. G. Three brave men were now lost to the regiment, and to assign the post to a fourth seemed nothing less than giving him up to destruction. The poor fellow who§e turn it was to take the station, though a man in other respects of incomparable^ resolution, trembled from head to foot. 7. "I must do my duty," said he to the officer ; "I know that; but I should like to lose my life with more credit." "I will leave no man," said the colonel, "against his will." A man immediately stepped from the ranks, and desired to take the post. Every mouth commended his resolution. 8. "I will not be taken alive," said he, "and you shall hear of me at the least alarm. At all events, I will fire my piece if I hear the least noise. If a crow chatters, or a leaf falls, you sh;ill hear my musket. You may be alarmed when nothing is the matter; but you must take the chance as the condition of the discovery." 9. Tiie colonel applauded his courage, and told him lie would do right to fire npon the least noise that he could not satisfactorily explain. Ilis comrades shook hands with him, and left him with a melancholy foreboding. The company marched back, and waited the event in the guard-house. 10. An hour had now elapsed, and every ear was upon the rack for the discharge of the musket, when, upon a sudden, the report was heard. The guard immediately marched, accompanied, as before, by the colonel and some of the most experienced officers of the regiment. THE FIFTH READER. 76 11. As they approached the post, they saw the man advancing towards them, dragging another man on the ground by the hair of his head. When thCy came up to hnn, it appeared to be an Indian whom he had shot. An exphination was immediately required. 12. " I told you, colonel," said the man, " that I should fire if I heard the least noise. That resolution I took has saved my life. I had not been long at my post when I heard a rustling at some short distance; I looked, and saw a wild hog, such as are common in the woods, crawling along the ground, and seemingly looking for nuts under the trees, among the leaves. 13. "As these animals are so very common, I ceased to consider it seriously, but kept my eyes fixed upon it, and marked its progress among the trees : still there was no need to give the alarm. It struck me, however, as some- what singular to see this animal making, by a circuitous ^^ passage, for a thick grove immediately behind my post. I therefore kept my eye more constantly fixed upon it, and, as it was now within a few yards of the co23i:)ice ", I hesi- tated whether I should fire. 14. "My comrades, thought I, will laugh at me for alarming them by shooting a pig. I had almost resolved to let it alone, when, just as it approached the thicket, I thought I observed it give an unusual spring. I no longer hesitated : I took my aim, discharged my piece, and the animal was immediately stretched before me, with a groan which I thought to be that of a human creature. 15. " I went up to it, and judge my astonishment when I found that I had killed an Indian. He had enveloped himself with the skin of one of these wild hogs so artfully and completely, his hands and his feet were so entirely concealed in it, and his gait and appearance were so exactly correspondent to that of the animals, that, imper- fectly as they were always seen through the trees and 76 THE FIFTH READER. buslieg, the disguise could not be detected at a distance, and scarcely discovered upon the nearest inspection. He was armed with a dagger and tomahawk 'V 16. The cause of the disappearance of the other senti- nels was now apparent. The Indians, sheltered in this disguise, secreted themselves in the coppice, watched for the moment to throw off the skin, burst upon the sen- tinels without previous alarm, and, too quick to give them an opportunity to discharge their pieces, either stabbed or scalped them. They then bore their bodies away, and concealed them at some distance in the leaves. 1 R£9'i-mEnt. a body of troops com- ipanded by a colonel, and consist- ing, when full, of from eight hun- dred to twenty- four hundred men. » C6N'FiNE§. Borders, edges. 8 Sa vXn'na, a low, open phiin. 4 S£n't|-?jEl. a soldier set to watch the approach of the enemy, to pre- vent surprises, &c. 6 Post. A place where a soldier or a number of troops are stationed j a station. • Sfi-p?R-STl"TiQN. Excess of scruple in matters of religion ; a belief in the direct agency of supernatural power in producing results the causes of which are unknown. T Colonel (kiir'nel). Thechiof com- mander of a regiment. 8 CSm'Pj^nv. a subdivision of a regi- ment commanded by a captain, aud consisting, when full, of near one hundred men. « In-c6m'pa-ua-ble. Unequalled; matchless. 10 CiR-cu'j-ToC3. Roundabout; not direct. 11 Cdp'pjCE. A wood of small trees ; a copse. 12 T6m'a-hAwk. An Indian hatchet. VIL— THE LOSS OP THE KOYAL GEORGE. COAVPER. [William Cowper, an English poet, was born in 1731, and died in 1800. His poetry is written in a vigorous and manly style, and has an energetic moral tone. It abounds in charming pictures of natural scenery and domestic life. His smaller pieces enjoy great and deserved popularity. Few events have ever fallen with more startling sorrow upon the public mind of Great Britain than the loss of the Koyal George, in the month of Aug jst, 1782, while lying at anchor oflF Spithead, near Portsmouth. She car- ried one hundred and eight guns, was commanded by Admiral Kempenfolt, and Was deemed the finest ship in the British navy. Being just ready to go to sea. ehe was inclined a little on one side, either to stop a leak or for some similar object. But so little risk was anticipated from the operation, that the admiral THE FIFTH READER. 77 with his officers and men, nearly a thousand souls In all, remained on board. Besides those, the ship was crowded with persons from the shore ; among whom were some three hundred women and children. In this state of tliiuj^s, the vessel was struck by a sudden flaw of wind., and being probably too much inclined, she was thrown farther over : the water lushed into her portholes j slie filled instantly, and sunk. About three hundred persons were saved, but not less than a thousand perished. The effect of so fearful a tragedy may be more fully apprehended when we bear in mind that the whole iiritish loss in the great naval battle of Trafalgar, fought a lew years after, — in its conse- quences the most important naval battle of modern times, — was less than seveuteen hundred.] 1. Toll for the brave, The brave tliat are no more; All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by * their native shore. 2. Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heeP, And laid her on her side. *.3. A land breeze shook the shrouds', And she was overset : Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete. 4. Toll for the brave ; Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea fight is fought ; His work of glory done. 6. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock. 6. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen. When Kempenfelt went down. With twice four hundred men. 7* 78 THE FIFTH READER. 7. Weigh "* tlie vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes ; And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. 8. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again, Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main\ 9. But Kenipenfelt is gone ; His victories are o'er ; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the waves no more. 1 FXsT Bi?, Kear to ; close by. a Uekl. Lean or incline to one side, as a ship. » SHRoODf. A set of ropes reaching from the mast-head to the veosel's sides, to support the mast, &c. * Weigh (wa). Lift, raise. 5 AlAiN. The open sea ; the ocean. VIII.— THE SUNBEAM. Mrs. Hemans. [Felicia Dorothea Hemans was bom in Liverpool, England, September 25, 179-1, and died May 12, 1&35. Her poetry is remarkable for purity and delicacy of feeling, and a fine sense of the beauty of nature.] 1. Thou art no lingerer in monarch's ^ hall : A joy thou art. and a wealth to all ; A bearer of hope unto land and sea : Sunbeam, what gift hath the world like thee ? 2, Thou art walking the billows, and ocean smiles ; Thou hast touched with glory his thousand isles; Thou hast lit up the ships, and the feathery foam, And gladdened the sailor like words from home. THE FIFTH READER. 79 3. To tlie solemn depths of the forest shades Thou art sti-eaming on through their green arcades', And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow, Like fireflies glance to the pools below. 4. I looked on the mountains: a vapor lay- Folding their heights in its dark array ; Thou brakest forth, and the mist became A crown and a mantle of living flame. 5. I looked on the peasant's^ lowly cot: Something of sadness had wrapped the spot; But a gleam of thee on its casement "* fell, And it laughed into beauty at that bright speU. 6. Sunbeam of summer, O, what is like thee, Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea? One thing is like thee, to mortals^ given — The faith touchins^ all thinGjs with hues^ of heaven. 1 M6n'ar£;h. a rulor of a nation, who has sole autliority ; a sover- eign ; a king-. s ^r-cade'. a ■v^^alk arched above; an arched aperture ; a space cov- ered by an arch. 3 P£a§'ant. a laborer in Europe who lives in the country. i Caije'ment. a part of a window- sash, opening upon hinges. 5 MiJR'TALij. Human beings. 6 IIuE§. Colors; tints. IX. — MEMORIALS OF WASHINGTON AND FRANKLIN. [The following deeply interesting proceedings took place in the House of Representatives at Washington, on the 7th day of February, 1848. Mr. George W. Summers, of Virginia, rose and addressed the house as follows.] 1. Mr. Speaker : I rise for the purpose of discharging an oflice not connected with the ordinary business of a legislative * assembly. Yet, in asking permission to inter- bO THE FIFTH READER. * rupt, for a moment, the regular order of parliamentary- proceedings, I cannot doubt that the proposition which I have to submit will prove as gratifying as it may be unusual. 2. Mr. Samuel T. Washington, a citizen of Kanawha* county, in the Commonwealth of Virginia, and one of my constituents^, has honored me with the commission of pre- senting, in his name and on his behalf, to the Congress of the United States, and through that body to the people of the United States, two most interesting and valuable relics, connected with the past history of our country, and Avith men whose achievements", both in the field and in the cabinet*, best illustrate and adorn our annals. 3. One is the sword worn by George Washington, first as a colonel in the colonial service of Virginia, in Forbes's campaign against the French and Indians, and afterwards, during the whole period of the war of independence, as commander-in-chief of the American army. 4. It is a plain couteau,t or hanger, with a green hilt and silver guard. On the upper ward of the scabbard is engraven "J. Bailey, Fish Kill." It is accompanied by a buckskin belt, which is secured by a silver buckle and clasp, whereon are engraven the letters " G. W." and the figures " 1757." These are all of the plainest workman- ship, but substantial, and in keeping wnth the man and wi^h the times to which they belonged. 5. The history of this sword is perfectly authentic^, and leaves no shadow of doubt as to its identity. The last will and testament of General Washington, bearing date on the 9th day of February, 1799, contains, among a great variety of bequests, the following clause: "To each of my nephews, William Augustine Washington, George Lewis, George Steptoe Washington, Bushrod Washington, and Samuel Washington, I give one of the swords, or cou- * Pronounced kj-naw'wj. 1 Pronounced k6-t5'. THE FIFTH READER. 81 teaux, of which I may die possessed; and they are to choose in the order they are named. These swords are accompanied with an injunctidn not to unsheathe' them for the purpose of shedding blood, except it be for self- defence, or in defence of their country and its rights; and, in the latter case, to keep them unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in their hands to the relinquishment thereof." 6. In the distribution of the swords hereby devised* among the five nephews therein enumerated, the one now presented fell to the share of Samuel Washington, the devisee ^ last named in the clause of the will which I have just read. 7. This gentleman, who died a few years since in the county of Kanawha, and who was the father of Samuel T. Washington, the donor, I knew well. I have often seen this sword in his possession, and received fi'om him- self the following account of the manner in which it became his property in the division made among the devisees: — 8. He said that he knew it to have been the side arm of General Washington during the revolutionary war ; not that used on occasions of parade and review, but the con- stant service sword of the great chief; that he had himself seen General Washington wear this identical sword, he presumed for the last time, when, in 1794, he reviewed the Virginia and Maryland forces, then concentrated at Cum- berland under the command of General Lee, and destined to cooperate with the Pennsylvania and New Jersey troops then assembled at Bedford, in suppressing what has been called the "whiskey insurrection." 9. General Washington was then president of the Uni- ted States, and as such was commander-in-chief of the army. It is known that it was his intention to lead the army in person upon that occasion, had he found it neces- sary; and he went to Bedford and Cumberland prepared 82 THE FIFTH READER. for that event. The condition of things did not require it, and he returned to his civil duties at Philadelphia. 10. Mr. Samuel Washington held the commission of a captain at that time himself, and served in that campaign, many of the incidents of which he has related to me. 11. He was anxious to obtain this particular sword, and preferred it to all the otliers, among which was the orna- mented and costly present from the great Frederic* 12. At the time of the division among the nephews, without intimating what his preference was, he jocosely remarked, that "inasmuch as he was the only one of them who had participated in military service, they ought to permit him to take choice." This suggestion was met in the same spirit in which it was made, and the selection being awarded him, he chose this, the plainest, and, intrin- sically '°, the least valuable of any, simply because it was the « battle sword." 13. I am also in possession of the most satisfactory evidence, furnished by Colonel George Washington, of Georgetown, the nearest male relative, now living, of General Washington, as to the identity of this sword. His information, as to its history, was derived from his father, William Augustine Washington, the devisee first named in the clause of the will which I have read ; from his uncle, the late Judge Bushrod Washington, of the Supreme Court; and Major Lawrence Lewis, the acting executor" of General Washington's will ; all of whom concurred in the statement that the true service sword was that selected by Captain Samuel Washington. 14. It remained in this gentleman's possession until his death, esteemed by him the most precious memento of his illustrious kinsman. It then became the property of his son, who, animated by that patriotism which so character- * Frederic II., king of Prussia, a most skilful general, was born in 1712 and died in 1786. THE FIFTH READER. 03 ized the " Father of his Country," has consented that such a relic ought not to be appropriated by an individual citizen, and has instructed me, his representative, to offer it to the nation, to be preserved in its public depository as the common property of all, since its office has been to achieve and secure the common liberty of all. 15. He has, in like manner, requested me to present this cane to the Congress of the United States, deeming it not unAvorthy the public acceptance. 16. This was once the property of the philosopher *^ and patriot Benjamin Franklin. 17. By a codicil *^ to his last will and testament, we find it thus disposed of: "My fine crab-tree walking stick, with a gold head curiously wrought in the form of the cap of Liberty, I give to my friend, and the friend of mankind, General Washington. If it were a sceptre '\ he has mer- ited it, and would become it." 18. General Washington, in his will, devises this cane as follows : " Item : To my brother, Charles Washington, I give and bequeath the gold-headed cane left me by Dr Franklin in his will." 19. Captain Samuel Washington was the only son of Charles Washington, the devisee from whom he derived by inheritance this interesting memorial ; and having trans- mitted it to his son, Samuel T. Washington, the latter thus seeks to bestow it worthily, by associating it with tho battle sword in a gift to his countrymen. 20. I cordially concur with Mr. Washington in the opinion that they both merit public preservation ; and I obey, with pleasure, his wishes in here presenting them, \x\ his name, to the nation. 21. Let the sword of the hero and the staff of the phi- losopher go together. Let them have place among the proudest trophies and most honored memorials of our national achievements. 84 THE FIFTH READER. 22. Upon that staff once leaned the sage, of whom it has been said, " He snatched the lightning from heaven and the sceptre from tyrants." 23. A mighty arm once wielded this sword in a right- eous cause, even unto the dismemberment of empire. In the hand of Washington this was "the sword of the Lord and of Gideon." 24. It was never drawn except in the defence of public liberty; it was never sheathed until a glorious and trium- phant success returned it to the scabbard, without a stain of cruelty or dishonor upon its blade ; it was never sur- rendered except to that country which bestowed it. 1 Lfe^'fs LA-TJVE. That enacts laws; law-makin?ie," he said, " Whose image never may depart, Deep graven on this grateful heart. Till memory be dead ; — 8. " To one whose love for me shall last When lighter passions long have past — So holy 'tis and true ; To one whose love hath longer dwelt, More deeply fixed, more keenly felt, Than any pledged by you." 9. Each guest upstarted at the word. And laid a hand upon his sword. With fury-flashing eye ; And Stanley said, " We crave * the name. Proud knight, of this most peerless^ dame. Whose love you count so high." 10. St. Leon paused, as if he would Not breathe her name in careless mood, Thus lightly, to another; 9 98 THE FIFTH READER. Then bent his noble head, as though To give that word the reverence due, And gently said, " My Mother ! " I BrYm'ming. That comca up to the brim ; full to the brim. s» HfeR'ALD. An officer, in the middle ages, who carried mcBsages be- tween princes, &c. 8 KNiGHX. In feudal times, a man ad- mitted to military rank by a cer- tain ceremony. * fiilv'^L-RV. The body or order of knights. 6 Crave. Ask earnestly ; beg. 8 Peer'l^ss. Without an equal. XIV. —A GOOD INVESTMENT. Freeman Hunt. 1. " Can you lend me two thousand dollars to establish myself in a small retail business ? " inquired a young man, not yet out of his teens, of a middle-aged gentleman, who was poring over his ledger * in the counting room of one of the largest establishments' in Boston. The person addressed turned towards the speaker, and regarding him for a moment with a look of surprise, inquired, "What security ^ can you give me, Mr. Strosser ? " 2. "Nothing but my note," replied the youiig man, promptly. 3. "Which I fear would be below par* in market," replied the merchant, smiling. 4. "Perhaps so," said the young man; "but, Mr. Bar- ton, remember that the boy is not the man ; the time may come when Hiram Strosser's note will be as readily accepted as that of any other man." 5. "True, very ti-ue," replied Mr. Barton, mildly ; "but you know business men seldom lend money without adequate ' security ; otherwise they might . soon be reduced to penury V 6. At this remark the young man's countenance became very pale, and, having kept silent for several moments, THE FIFTH READER. 99 he inquired, in a voice whose tones indicated his deep disappointment, "Then you cannot accommodate me — can you ? " 7. "Call upon me to-mon-ow, and I will give you a reply," said Mr. Barton ; and the young man retired. 8. Mr. Barton resumed his labors at the desk ; but hia mind was so much upon the boy and his singular errand, that he could not pursue his task with any correctness ; and, after having made several sad blunders, he closed the ledger, and took his hat, and went out upon the street. Arriving opposite the store of a wealthy merchant upon Milk Street, he entered the door. 9. " Good morning, Mr. Hawley," said he, approaching the proprietor of the establishment, who was seated at his desk, counting over the profits of the week. 10. "Good morning," replied the merchant, blandly* " Happy to see you. Have a seat ? Any news ? How*s trade?" 11. Without noticing these interrogations ', Mr. Barton said, "Young Strosser is desirous of establishing him- self in a small retail business in Washington Street, and called this morning to secure of me a loan of two thousand dollars for that purpose." 12. "Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Hawley, evidently sur- prised at this announcement; "but you do not think of lending that sum — do you ? " 13. " I do not know," replied Mr. Barton. " Mr. Strosser is a young man of business talent and strict integrity, and will be likely to succeed in whatever he undertakes." 14. "Perhaps so," replied Mr. Hawley, doubtfully ; "but I am heartily tired of helping to establish these young aspirants* for commercial honors." 15. "Have you ever suffered from such a course?" inquired Mr. Barton, at the same time casting a roguish glance at Mr. Hawley. 100 THE FIFTH READER. 16. "No,-' replied the latter, "for I never felt inclined to make an investment of that kind." 17. "Then here is a fine opportunity to do so. It may prove better than stock in the bank. As for myself, I have concluded that, if you will advance him one thousand dollars, I will contribute an equal sum." 18. "Not a single farthing would I advance for such a purpose; and if you make an investment^ of that kind, I Bhall consider you very foolish." 19. Mr. Barton was silent for several minutes, and then arose to depart. "If you do not feel disposed to share with me in this enterprise, I shall advance the whole sura myself." Saying which, he left the store. * m * * * 20. Ten years have passed away since the occurrence of the conversation recorded in the preceding dialogue, and Mr. Barton, pale and agitated, is standing at the same desk at which he stood when first introduced to the reader's attention. As page after page of his ponderous ledger was examined, his despair became deeper and deeper, till at last he exclaimed, " I am ruined — utterly ruined ! " 21. "How so?" inquired Hiram Strosser, who entered the counting room in season to hear Mr. Barton's remark. 22. « The last European steamer brought news of the failure of the house of Perleh, Jackson, & Co., London, who are indebted to me in the sum of nearly two hun- dred thousand dollars. News of the failure has become general, and my creditors, panic-stricken, are pressing tor payment of their demands. The banks refuse me credit, i^nd I have not the means to meet my liabilities '"." If 1 could pa^ this crisis, perhaps I could rally again ; but it is impossible: my creditors are importunate, and I cannot much longer keep above the tide," replied Mr. Barton. 23. " What is the extent of your liabilities ? '^ inquired Strosser. THE FIFTH READER. 101 24. " Seventy-five thousand dollars," replied Mr. Barton. 25. " Would that sum be sufficient to relieve you ? " 26. « It would." 27. " Then, sir, you shall have it," said Strosser, as he stepped up to the desk, and drew a check " for twenty thousand dollars. " Take this, and when you need more, do not hesitate to call upon me. Remember that it was from you I received money to establish myself in business." 28. "But that debt was cancelled** several years ago," replied Mr. Barton, as a ray of hope shot across his troubled mind. 29. "True," replied Strosser, "but the debt o? gratitude that I owe has never been cancelled ; and now that the scale is turned, I deem it my duty to come up to the rescue." 30. At this singular turn in the tide of fortune, Mr. Barton fairly wept for joy. 31. Every claim against him was paid as soon as pre- sented, and in less than a month he had passed the crisis, and stood perfectly safe and secure ; his credit improved and his business increased, while several others sank under the blow, and could not rally, among whom was Mr. Haw- ley, alluded to at the commencement of this article. 32. "How did you manage to keep above the tide?" inquired Mr. Hawley of Mr. Barton, one morning, several months after the events last recorded, as he met the latter upon the street, on his way to his place of business. 33. " Very easily, indeed, I can assure you," replied Mr. Barton. 34. "Well, do tell me how," continued Mr. Hawley; *I lay claim to a good degree of shrewdness, but the strongest exercise of my wits did not save me ; and yet you, whose liabilities were twice as heavy as my own, have stood the shock, and have come off evjn bettered by the Btorm." 9* 102 THE FIFTH READER. 35. "The truth is," replied Mr. Barton, «1 cashed my paper ^ as soon as it was sent in." 36. "I suppose so," said Mr. Hawley, regarding Mr. Barton with a look of surprise ; " but how did you obtain the funds? As for me, I could not obtain a dollar's credit: the banks refused to take my paper, and even my friends deserted me." 37. "A little investment that I made some ten years ago," replied Mr. Barton, smiling, " has recently proved exceedingly profitable." 38. "Investment!" echoed Mr. Hawley — "what in- vestment ? " 39. "Why, do you not remember how I established young Strosser in business some ten years ago ? " 40. " O, yes, yes," replied Mr. Hawley, as a ray of sus- picion lighted up his countenance ; "but what of that? " 41. " He is now one of the largest dry goods dealers in the city ; and when this calamity came on, he came for- ward, and very generously advanced me seventy-five thousand dollars. You know I told you, on the morning I called to offer you an equal share of the stock, that it might prove better than an investment in the bank." 42. During this announcement, Mr. Hawley's eyes were bent intently upon the ground, and, drawing a deep sigh, ne moved on, dejected and sad, while Mr. Barton returned to his place of business, with his mind cheered and animated by thoughts of his singular investment. LfiDG'ER (l^d'jer). The chief book of accounts with merchants and others, in which their various trans- actions are collected and arranged. a |:s-tXb'lish-m£nt. That which is fixed or settled firmly ; here, a place for transacting business, » Se-cC'ri-tv. Safety; anythinggiv- en as a pledge that a debt will be paid. I EXr. State of equality. Stocks, notes, &c., are said to be " at par " when they sell for their original nominal value. 5 Ad'e-quate. Fully sufficient. 6 P£N'v-Ry. Extreme poverty; des^ titution. 1 In-t£r-rP-ga'tion§. Questions ; in- quiries. 8 As-pir'ant {or as'pj-rSnt). One who seeks eagerly j an ambitious candi- date. THE FIFTH READER. 103 • lN-v£sT'MENT. The laying' out of money or capital in some perma- nent form, so as to produce an in- come. 10 Li-A-BfL'i-TiE§. Pecuniary indebted- ness ; sums of money which a per- Bou may be called upon to pay. " CiificK. An order for the payment of money. 12 CXn'celled. Annulled ; made void. 13 Ta'per. a written promise to pay money j notes, bills of exchjiuge, &c. XV.— THE CHINESE PRISONER. Peucival. [Thomas Percival was an English physician, born in 1740, died in 1804. He wrote a number of works on medicine and on morals.] 1. A CERTAIN emperor of Cliina, on his accession' to the throne of his ancestors, commanded a general release of all those who were confined in prison for debt. Amongst that number was an old man, who had fallen an early victim to adversity, and whose days of imprisonment, reckoned by the notches which he had cut on the door of his gloomy cell, expressed the annual circuit of more than fifty suns. 2. With trembling limbs and fixltering' steps, he departed from his mansion of sorrow : his eyes were dazzled with the splendor of the light, and the face of nature pre- sented to his view a perfect paradise. The jail in which he had been imprisoned stood at some distance from Pekin, and to that city he directed his course, impatient to enjoy the caresses of his wife, his children, and his friends. 3. Having with diflaculty found his way to the street in which his decent mansion had formerly stood, his heart became more and more elated at every step he advanced. \Yith joy he proceeded, looking eagerly around ; but ho observed few of the objects with which he had been for- merly conversant ^ A magnificent edifice was erected on 104 THE FIFTH READER. the site of the house which he had inhabited ; the dwell- ings of his neighbors had assumed a new form ; and he beheld not a single face of which he had the least remem- brance. 4. An aged beggar who, with trembling knees, stood at the gate of a portico "*, from which he had been thrust by the insolent domestic who guarded it, struck his attention. He stopped, therefore, to give him a small pittance* out of the bounty with which he had been suppUed by the emperor, and received, in return, the sad tidings «, that his wife had fallen a lingering sacrifice to penury and sorrow ; that his children were gone to seek their fortunes in distant or unknown climes; and that the grave contained his nearest and most valued friends. 5. Overwhelmed' with anguish, he hastened to the palace of his sovereign, into whose presence his hoary locks and mournful visage soon obtained his admission ; and, casting himself at the feet of the emperor, " Great Prince," he cried, "send me back to that prison from which mis- taken mercy has delivered me ! I have survived my family and friends, and, even in the midst of this populous city, I find myself in a dreary solitude. The cell of my dungeon^ protected me from the gazers at my wretched- ness ; and whilst secluded" from society, I was the less sensible of the loss of its enjoyments. I am now tortured with the view of pleasure in which I cannot participate^"; and die with thirst, though streams of delight surround me." 1 Ac-^fis'siQN. Act of coming' to ; ar- rival ; also, increase by sometliing' added ; that which is added. s FXl'ter-Ing. Tottering; feeble; unsteady ; wavering. » Con'ver-sant. Acquainted; famil- iar ; versed. For'ti-co. a covered space, sur- rounded by columns, at the en- trance of a buildingo 6 pIt'tan^e. Small allowance or por- tion ; a trifle. 6 Ti'DjNG?. News. 1 5-ver-wh£l,med'. Swallowed up, as by the sea ; overpowered ; crushed. 8 DDn'^eqn. a strong, close, dark prison, or room in a prison. 9 Se-clud'ed. Sliut out or Icept apart 10 P^R-Tf^'i-PATE. Tartake; take part. THE HPTH BEADEB. 105 XVI. — THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. Moore. [Thomas Moore was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1779, and died in 1852. He was a very brilliant lyric poet and song writer. In the latter part of his life he wrote many prose works. When a very young man, he visited America, and the following poem was one of the results of that visit. The subjoined intro- duction is by the author. " They tell of a young man, who lost his mind upon the death of a girl ho loved, and who, suddenly disappearing from his friends, was never afterwards heard of. As he had frequently said in his ravings, that the girl was not dead, but gone to the Dismal Swamp, it is supposed he had wandered into that dreary wilderness, and had died of hunger, or been lost in some of its dreadful mo- rasses." The Great Dismal Swamp is mostly in the north-eastern part of North Caro- lina, but extends into Virginia. It is thirty miles long, and about ten mileg wide. Lake Drummond is in the centre, and is about twenty miles in circuit.] 1. " They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true ; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where, all night long, by a firefly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. 2. "And her firefly lamp I soon shall see, And her paddle I soon shall hear ; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of Death is near." 3. Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds ; His path was rugged and sore — Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds. Through many a fen' where the serpent feeds And man never trod before. 4. And when on the earth he sank to sleep. If slumber his eyelids knew, 106 THE FIFTH READER. He lay where the deadly vine doth weep Its venomous^ tear, and nightly steep' The flesh with blistering dew. 6. And near him the she- wolf stirred the brake*, And the copper-snake* breathed in his ear; Till, starting, he cried, from his dream awake, •* O, when shall I see the dusky lake, And the white canoe of my dear ? " 6. He saw the lake, and a meteor ^ bright Quick over its surface played ; " Welcome," he said, " my dear one's light," And the dim shore echoed, for many a night, The name of the death-cold maid ; 7. Till he hollowed a boat of the birchen bark, Which carried him off from shore ; Far, far he followed the meteor spark ; The wind was high, and the clouds were darl^ And the boat returned no more. 8. But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp. This lover and maid so true Are seen, at the hour of midnight damp. To cross the lake by a firefly lamp, And paddle their white canoe. I F£n. a low land partly covered with water ; boggy land. I V£n'pm-0V3. Poisonous ; noxious. « SteEp. Soak ; imbue. Br AKE . A thicket of brambles, reeds, or ferns. 6 C6p'per-snake. a copperhead; • venomous serpent found in the Southern States. Me'te-qr. a luminous body seen in the air, or floating over moist places ; will-o'-the-wisp. THE FIFTH READER. 107 XVn WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. Morris. [George P. Morris, an American writer, was born October 10, 1802, and died July 6, 18C4. He was one of the editors of the Home Journal, and was the author of many popular songs.] 1. Woodman, spare that tree ; Touch not a single bough ; In youth it sheltered me. And I'll protect it now. ^ 'Twas my forefather's * hand That placed it near his cot ; Then, woodman, let it stand ; Thy axe shall harm it not. 2. That old, familiar^ tree, ' Whose glory and renown' Are spread o'er land and sea, And wouldst thou hew it down t Woodman, forbear thy stroke ; Cut not its earth-bound ties ; O, spare that aged oak, Now towering^ to the skies. 8. When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade ; In all their gushing ^ joy. Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here ; My father pressed my band : Forgive this foolish tear. But let that old oak stand. 4, My heartstrings round thee cling; Close as thy bark, old friend ! Here shall the wild bird sing, And still thy branches bend. 108 THE FIFTH READER. Old tree, the storm still brave ! And, woodman, leave the spot; While I've a hand to save. Thy axe shall harm it not. 1 Foee'fX-ther a grandfather. father, t F^-MlL'i^R. Well-known. An ancestor, aa or great-grand- » Renown'. Fame ; high honor. 4 To>^'ER-TfNa, llising aloft. 5 GDsh'ing. Flowing j exuberant j Im pulsive. ' XVIIL — LOSS OF THE ARCTIC. Beecher. [Henry Ward Beecher 1b an eloquent clergyman and public lecturer, living in Brooklyn, New York. The steamer Arctic was lost by a collision with another vessel, in a voyage from Liverpool to New York, in September, 1854, aad a great many persons perished.] 1. It was autumn. Hundreds had wended their way from pilgrimages » ; — from Rome and its treasures of dead art, and its glory of Hving nature ; from the sides of the Switzer's mountains ; from the capitals of various nations ; all of them saying in their hearts. We will wait for the September gales to have done with their equinoctial ' fury, and then we will embark ; we will slide across the appeased ocean, and in the gorgeous month of October we will greet our longed-for native land and our heart-loved homes. 2. And so the throng streamed along from Berlin, from Paris, from the Orient, converging' upon London, still hastening towards the welcome ship, and narrowing, every day, the circle of engagements and preparations. They crowded aboard. Never had the Arctic borne such a host of passengers, nor passengers so nearly related to so many of us. 3. The hour was come. The signal ball fell at Green- wich.* It was noon also at Liverpool. The anchors were * At the observatory in Greenwich (pronounced Grgn'jj), England, a signal ball falls every day precisely at noon. THE FIFTH READER. 109 weighed ; the great hull swayed to the ocurrent ; the national colors streamed abroad, as if themselves instinct with life and national sympathy. The bell strikes ; the wheels revolve ; the signal gun beats its echoes in upon every structure along the shore, and the Arctic glides joy- fully forth from the Mersey,* and turns her prow to the winding channel, and begins her homeward run. The pilot stood at the wheel, and men saw him. Death sat upon the prow, and no eye beheld him. Whoever stood at the wheel in all the voyage, Death was the pilot that steered the craft, and none knew it. He neither revealed his presence nor whispered his errand. 4. And so hope was effulgent, and lithe"* gayety dis- ported^ itself, and joy was with every guest. Amid all the inconveniences of the voyage, there was still that which hushed every murmur — "Home is not far away." And every morning it was still one night nearer home I Eight days had passed. They beheld that distant bank of mist that forever haunts the vast shallows of New- foundland, t Boldly they made it ; and plunging in, its pliant wreaths wrapped them about. They shall never emerge. The last sunlight has flashed from that deck. The last voyage is done to ship and passengers. At noon there came, noiselessly stealing from the north, that fated instrument of destruction. In that mysterious shroud, that vast atmosphere of mist, both steamers were holding their way with rushing prow and roaring wheels, but invisible. 5. At a league's' distance unconscious, and at nearer ap- proach unwarned, — within hail, and bearing right towards each other, unseen, unfelt, — till in a moment more, emer- ging from the gray mists, the ill-omened Vesta dealt her deadly stroke to the Arctic. The death-blow was scarcely felt along the mighty hull. She neither reeled nor shiv- ered. Neither commander nor officers deemed that they * Pronounced Met' ze. \ /VonowicCdZ Nu'fund-laiid. lo" 110 THE FIFTH READEE. had suffered harm. Prompt upon humanity, the brave Luce (let his name be ever spoken with admiration and respect) ordered away his boat with the first officer to inquire if the stranger had suffered harm. As Gourley went over the ship's side, O, that some good angel had called to the brave commander in the words of Paul, on a like occasion, " Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved." 6. They departed, and with them the hope of the ship, for now the waters, gaining upon the hold, and, rising uj) upon the fires, revealed the mortal blow. O, had now that stern, brave mate, Gourley, been on deck, whom the sailors were wont to mind, — had he stood to execute efficiently the commander's will, — we may believe that we should not have had to blush for the cowardice and recreancy ® of the crew, nor weep for the untimely dead. But, apparently, each subordinate officer lost all presence of mind, then courage, and so honor. In a wild scramble, that ignoble mob of firemen, engineers, waiters, and crew rushed for the boats, and abandoned the helpless women, children, and men to the mercy of the deep ! Four hours there were from the catastrophe of the collision to the catastrophe of sinking ! 7. O, what a burial was here ! Not as when one is borne from his home, among weeping throngs, and gently carried to the green fields, and laid peacefully beneath the turf and the flowers. No priest stood to pronounce a burial service. It was an ocean grave. The mists alone shrouded the burial-place. No spade prepared the grave, nor sexton filled up the hollowed earth. Down, down they sank, and the quick returning waters smoothed out every ripple, and left the sea as placid as before. J PlL'GRjM-A^-Ef. Journeys under- 3 Con-vSr^'ixs. Tending towards taken to some hallowed place, or the same point or place, for devotional purposes. 4 Lithe. Mild ; gentle. » E-qxji-n5c'tiai,. Pertaining to the 5 dis-port'ed. Diverted; amused, time of the equinox. o Rfic'Rip-^N-^y. Faithlessness. THE FIFTH READiSR. Ill XIX. — THE SONG OF THE FOEGB. 1. Clang, clang ! the massive anvils ^ ring ; Clang, clang ! a hundred hammers swing ; Like the thunder-rattle of a tropic sky, The mighty blows still multiply ; Clang, clang ! Say, brothers of the dusky brow, What are your strong arms forging now ? Clang, clang! We forge the colter^ now. The colter of the kindly plough ; Prosper it. Heaven, and bless our toil ! May its broad furrow still unbind^ To genial rains, to sun and wind, The most benignant soil ! Clang, clang ! Our colter's course shall be On many a sweet and sheltered lea. By many a streamlet's silver tide, Amid the song of morning birds. Amid the low of sauntering herds, Amid soft breezes which do stray Through woodbine hedges and sweet may,.* Along the green hill's side. When regal Autumn's bounteous hand With wide-spread glory clothes the land, — When to the valleys, from the brow Of each resplendent^ slope, is rolled A ruddy sea of living gold, — We bless — we bless the plough. 2. Clang, clang ! Again, my mates, what glows Beneath the hammer's potent blows? — Clink, clank ! We forge the giant chain, Which bears the gallant vessel's strain, *Iii England, the familiar name of tbe common hawthorn and Its flowers 112 THE FIFTH READER. 'Mid stormy winds and adverse tides ; Secured by this, the good ship braves The rocky roadstead °, and the waves Which thunder on her sides. Anxious no more, the merchant sees The mist drive dark before the breeze, The storm-cloud on the hill ; Calmly he rests, though far away In boisterous climes his vessel lay, Reliant on our skill. Say, on what sands these links shall sleep, Fathoms beneath the solemn deep ; By Afric's pestilential shore, — By many an iceberg ', lone and hoar, — By many a palmy Western isle. Basking in Spring's perpetual smile, — By stormy Labrador. Say, shall they feel the vessel reel. When to the battery's deadly peal The crashing broadside makes reply ? Or else, as at the glorious Nile,* Hold grappling ships, that strive the while For death or victory? 3. Hurrah ! Cling, clang ! Once more, what glows, Dark brothers of the forge, beneath The iron tempest of your blows. The furnace's red breath ? Clang, clang ! A burning torrent, clear And brilliant, of bright sparks, is poured Around and up in the dusky air. As our hammers forge the swokd. * The battle of the Nile was fouj?ht near one of the mouths of the River Nile, August 1, 1798. In this battle the English fleet, commanded by Lord Nelson, badly defeated the French fleet under Brueys. THE FIFTH READER. 113 The sword ! — a name of dread ; yet when Upon the freeman's thigh 'tis bound, While for his altar and his hearth, While for the land that gave him birth. The war-drums roll, the trumpets sound. How sacred is it then ! Whenever, for the truth and right, It flashes in the van of fight, — Whether in some wild mountain pass, As that where fell Leonidas,* — Or on some sterile plain, and stern, A Marston t or a Bannockburn, J — Or 'mid fierce crags and bursting rills, The Switzer's Alps, gray Tyrol's § hills, — Or, as when sank the Armada's ' pride, It gleams above the stormy tide, — Still, still, whene'er the battle-word Is Liberty, — when men do stand For justice and their native land, — Then Heaven bless the swoed ! 1 AN'viii. An iron block on which iron and other metals are laid to be hamraered. iCoi/TER. The cutting' iron of a plough. 8 Vn-bind'. Loosen ; open. * RE-SPL,]iN'DENT. Having- a bright lustre ; shining. 5 Road'stEad. a place of anchorage at some distance from the shore. * ice'berg, a vast mass of ice. 7 Ar-ma'I)A. The name given to a vast, fleet sent by Spain against England in the reign of Elizabeth. The ar- mada was badly defeated by the English fleet. * Leonidas. A king of Sparta who defended the pass of Thermopylae with three hundred Spartans against the Persian army under Xerxes,,and gained im- mortal glory by the heroic death of himself and his little band. t Marston Moor. A large plain about eight miles from York, England, where the parliamentary forces gained a decisive victory over the royalists, in 1644. I Bannockburn. A village in Scotland famous for a battle in which the Scots under Robert Bruce signally defeated the English army under Edward IL, in 1314. § Ttrol. An Austrian province north of Italy, 10* 114 THE FIFTH EEADEB. XX. — LITTLE EDWARD. Mrs. Stowe. [Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe, the world-renowned author of Uncle Tom s Cabin, is the daughter of the Kev. Lyman Beecher, D. D., and wife of Professor Calvin E. Stowe, of the Theological Seminary at Andover, Massachusetts. The following extract is from the May-Flower, a collection of sketches and narratives, marked by the same combination of humor and pathos which is bo eonspicuous in her novel.] 1. Were any of you bom in "New England, in the good old catechising \ church-going, school-going, orderly times ? If so, you may have seen my uncle Abel ; the most per- pendicular, rectangular ', upright, downright good man that ever labored six days and rested on the seventh. 2. You remember his hard, weather-beaten countenance, where every line seemed drawn with " a pen of iron and the point of a diamond ; " his considerate gray eyes, that moved over objects as if it were not best to be in a hurry about seeing; the circumspect' opening and shutting of the mouth; his downsitting and uprising, all performed with deliberate forethought ; in short, the whole ordering of his life and conversation, which was, after a military fashion, "to the right about face — forward, march." 3. Now, if you supposed, from all this sternness of exte- rior, that this good man had nothing kindly within, you were much mistaken. You often find the greenest grass under a snow-drift; and though my uncle's mind was not exactly of the flower-garden kind, still there was an abun- dance of wholesome and kindly vegetation there. 4. It is true he seldom laughed, and never joked him- self; but no man had a more serious and weighty convic- tion of what a joke was in another; and when a witticism^ was uttered in his presence, you might see his face relax into an expression of solemn satisfaction, and he would took at the author with a sort of quiet wonder, as if it THE FIFTH READER. 115 were past his comprehension how such a thing could ever come into a man's head. 5. Uncle Abel, too, had some relish for the fine arts^; in proof of which, I might adduce the pleasure with which he gazed at the plates in his family Bible, the likeness whereof is neither in heaven, nor on earth, nor under the earth. And he was also so eminent a musician, that he could go through the singing book at one sitting without the least fatigue, beating time like a windmill all the way. 6. He had, too, a liberal hand, though his liberality was all by the rule of three. He did by his neighbor exactly as he would be done by; he loved some things in this world very sincerely; he loved his God much, but he honored and feared him more ; he was exact with others, but he was more exact with himself, and he expected his God to be more exact still. 7. Every thing in uncle Abel's house was in the same time, place, manner, and form, from year's end to year's end. There was old Master Bose, a dog after my uncle's own heart, who always walked as if he were study- ing the multiplication table. There Avas the old clock, forever ticking in the chimney corner, with a picture of the sun upon its face, forever setting behind a perpendicu- lar row of poplar trees. There was the never-failing sup- ply of red peppers and onions hanging over the chimney. 8. There, too, were the yearly hollyhocks and morning glories blooming about the windows. There was the " best room," with its sanded floor ; the cupboard in one corner, with its glass doors; the evergreen asparagus bushes in the chimney ; and there was the stand with the Bible and almanac on it in another corner. There, too, was aunt Betsey, who never looked any older, because she always looked as old as she could ; who always dried her catnip and wormwood the last of September, and began to clean house the first of May. In short, tliis was the 116 THE FIFTH READER. land of continuance.^ Old Time never took it into his head to practise either addition or subtraction or multi- plication, on its sum total. 9. This aunt Betsey aforenamed was the neatest and most efficient piece of human machinery that ever operated in forty places at once. She was always every where, pre- dominating ' over and seeing to every thing ; and though my uncle had been twice married, aunt Betsey's rule and authority had never been broken. She reigned over his wives when living, and reigned after them when dead ; and so seemed likely to reign on till the end of the chapter. 10. But my uncle's latest wife left aunt Betsey a much less tractable subject than ever before had fallen to her lot. Little Edward was the child of my uncle's old age, and a brighter, merrier little blossom never grew on the verge of a snow-drift. He had been committed to the nursing of his grandmamma till he had arrived at the age of *V2discretion, and then my old uncle's heart so yearned for him that he was brought home. 11. His introduction into the family excited a terrible sensation. Never was there such a contemner^ of digni- ties, such a violator of high places and sanctities, as this same Master Edward. It was in vain to try to teach him decorum. He was the most outrageously merry elf" that ever shook a head of curls. He laughed and frolicked with every body and every thing that came in his way, not even excepting his solemn old father; and when you saw Iiim with his fair arms around the old man's neck, and his bright blue eyes and blooming cheek peering '° out be- side the bleak face of uncle Abel, you might fancy you saw Spring caressing Winter. Uncle Abel's metaphysics" were sorely puzzled by this sparkling, dancing compound of spirit and matter; nor could he devise any method of bringing it into any reasonable shape, for it did mis- THE FIFTH READER. IIT chief with an energy and perseverance that were truly astonishing. 1 CXt'e-jBhi^-ing. Instructing by ask- ing questions and receiving an- swers on religious subjects. « Rec-tIn'gv-lar. Literally, having right angles ; rigid ; exact. 8 CiR'cvM-spfiCT. Careful ; discreet. 4 wIt'tj-cT^m. a joke ; a jest. 6 Fine Arts. Arts which are not chiefly mcchanidal, as painting, music, and sculpture. « CpN-TiN'y-ANCE. Constancy J per- manence. 7 Pre-dom'i-nat-ing, Ruling ; con- trolling ; prevailing, 8 CoN-TiiM'NER, One who contemns or disregards. 9 EL.F. A fairy or imaginary being ; a term often applied to any small and sportive being. 10 Peer'ing. Looking narrowly or curiously ; peeping, u M£t-a-pii?'§'ics. Mental science; the philosophy of the mind as dis tinguishcd from matter. XXL — LITTLE EDWARD, CONCLUDED. 1. But uncle Abel was most of all perplexed to know what to do with him on the Sabbatli ; for on that day Master Edward seemed to exert himself to be particularly diligent and entertaining. 2. "Edward! Edward must not play Sunday!" his father would call out ; and then Edward would hold up his curly head, and look as grave as the catechism ; but in three minutes you would see pussy scampering through the "best room," with Edward at her heels, to the entire discomposure of all devotion in aunt Betsey, and all others in authority. 3. At length my uncle came to the conclusion that "it wasn't in nature to teach him any better," and that "he could no more keep Sunday than the brook down in the lot." My poor uncle ! he did not know what was the matter with his heart ; but certain it was, he lost all fac- ulty of scolding when little Edward was in the case, and he would rub his spectacles a quarter of an hour longer than common when aunt Betsey was detailing his witti- cisms and clever doincrs. 118 THE FIFTH READER. 4. In process of time, our hero had completed his third year, and arrived at the dignity of going to school. He went tlirough the spelling book, and then attacked the catechism ; went through with it in a fortnight, and at last came home in great delight, to tell his father that he had got to " Amen." 5. After this, he made a regular business of saying over the whole every Sunday evening, standing with his hands folded in front, occasionally glancing around to see if pussy gave proper attention. And being of a practically benevolent turn of mind, he made several commendable efforts to teach Bose the catechism, in which he succeeded as well as might have been expected. In short, without further detail, Master Edward bade fair to become a liter- ary wonder. 6. But alas for poor little Edward ! his merry dance was soon over. A day came when he sickened. Aunt Betsey tried all her simple remedies, but in vain ; he grew rapidly worse and worse. His father's heart was torn with sor- row, but he said nothing; he only staid by his child's bedside day and night, trying all means to save him, with affecting pertinacity*. 7. "Can't you think of any thing more, doctor?" said he to the physician, when all had been tried in vain. "Nothing," answered the physician. 8. A momentary convulsion passed over my uncle's face. " The will of the Lord be done," said he, almost with a groan of anguish. 9. Just at this moment, a ray of the setting sun pierced the checked curtains, and gleamed like an angel's smile across the face of the little sufferer. He woke from troubled sleep. 10. "O dear! I am so sick!" he gasped feebly. His father raised him in his anus; he breathed easier, and looked up with a grateful smile. Just then his old play- THE FIFTH READER. 119 mate, the cat, crossed the room. "There goes pussy," said he : " O dear, I shall never play any more." 11. At that moment, a deadly change passed over hia countenance. He looked up in his father's face with an imploring expression, and put out his hand as if for help. There was one moment of agony, and then the sweet features all settled into a smile of peace, and " mortality was swallowed up of life." My uncle laid him down, and looked one moment at his beautiful face. It was too much for his principles, too much for his consistency '^j and he "lifted up his voice and wept." 12. The next morning was the Sabbath — the funeral day; and it rose with "breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom." Uncle Abel was as calm and collected as ever ; but in his face there was a sorrow-stricken expression touching to behold. I remember him at family prayers, as he bent over the great Bible, and began the psalm, "Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all genera- tions." Apparently he was touched by the melancholy siDlendor of the poetry, for, after reading a few verses, he stopped. 13. There was a dead silence, interrupted only by the ticking of the clock. He cleared his voice repeatedly, and tried to go on, but in vain. He closed the book, and kneeled down to pray. The energy of sorrow broke through his usual formal reverence, and his language flowed forth with a deep and sorrowful pathos^ which I shall never forget. The God so much reverenced, so much feared, seemed to draw near to him as a friend and com- forter, his refuge and strength, "a very present help in time of trouble." 14. My uncle rose, and I saw him walk to the room of the departed one. He uncovered the face. It was set with the seal of death ; but O, how surpassingly lovely 1 The brilliancy of life was gone, but that pure, transparent 120 THE FIFTH READER. face was touched with a mysterious'', triumphant bright- ness, which seemed Uke the dawning of heaven. 15. My uncle looked long and earnestly. He felt the beauty of what he gazed on ; his heart was softened, but he had no words for his feelings. He left the room un- consciously, and sat in the front door. The morning was bright, the bells were ringing for church, the birds were singing merrily, and little Edward's pet squirrel was frol- icking about the door. My uncle watched him as he ran up one tree and then dowiv, and up another, and then over the fence, whisking his brush, and chattering just as if nothing was the matter. With a deep sigh uncle Abel broke forth : " How happy that creature is ! Well, the Lord's will be done." 16. That day the dust was committed to dust, amid the lamentations of all who had known him. Years have passed since then, and all that is mortal of my uncle has long since been gathered to his fathers ; but his just and upright spirit has entered the glorious liberty of the sons of God. Yes, the good man may have had opinions which the philosophical^ scorn, and weaknesses at which the thoughtless smile ; but death shall change him into all that is enlightened, wise, and refined; for he shall awake in ♦'His likeness" and "be satisfied." 1 PfiR-Ti-NX^'l-TY, Firm or unyield- ing' adherence to opinion or pur- pose ; steadiness ; constancy. 9 CoN-sts'TEN-cY. Agreement or uni- formity of principle or conduct ; state of being consistent. 3 Pa'thSs. That which excites deep feeling- ; tender emotion. i Mys TE'Ri-oOs. Hidden; obscure; not understood. 5 PHlL-O-sSpii'i-CAii. Men skilled in philosophy 3 deeply learned men. ¥ THE FIFTH READER. 121 XXII. — THE CORAL GROVE. J. G. Percival. [James Gates Percival was born in Connecticut, in September, 1795, and died in May, 185(5. He was a brilliant and imaginative poet, and also distinguished as a man of science.] 1. Deep in the wave is a coral ' grove, Where the pnri)}:e mullet and goldfish rove, Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with the falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine. 2. The floor is of sand, like the mountain's drift', And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow ; From coral rocks the sea-plants lift Their boughs where the tides and billows flow. The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there ; And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air. There, with its waving blade of green. The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse ^ is seen To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter. 3. There, with a light and easy motion, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea; And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean 'Are bending, like corn on the upland lea*: And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone. And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms Has made the top of the wave his own. 11 122 THE FIFTH READER. 4. And when the ship from his fury flies, Where the myriad * voices of ocean roar ; When the wind-god frowns in the murky ^ skies, And demons are waiting the wreck on the shore,— Then, far below, in the peaceful sea, The purple mullet and goldfish rove. And the waters murmur tranquilly Through the bending twigs of the coral grove. i C<5r'al. a hard Bubstance found in the ocean, supposed to be the re- mains of very small sea animals. t DrIft. Any matter driven together by wind or water ; earthy or rocky matter, carried by water from one place to another. i DOlse. a species of seaweed, of a reddish brown color, found in con- siderable quantities on the coast of Scotland. It adheres to the rocks, in strips of ten or twelve inches long and about half an inch broad. Lea. Grass or sward land. M\'r'|-ad. Too numerous to be counted ; immensely numerous. MUr'kv. Dark ; gloomy ; cloudy. XXIIL — SONG OF REBECCA, THE JEWESS. Sir Walter Scott. [Sir Walter Scott, one of the most eminent names in English literature, was born in Edinburgh, August 15, 1771, and died September 21, 18^2. lie is the author of a great many works, comprising poems, novels, and miscellanies. This poem is from hisnovel called " Ivanhoe."] 1. When Israel,* of the Lord beloved. Out from the land of bondage came, Her father's God before her moved. An awful guide, in smoke and flame. By day, along the astonished lands, ♦ The cloudy pillar glided slow ; By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands Returned the fiery column's glow. * Israel. Israel and Judah are terms used to designate the Jewish people. THE FIFTH READER. 123 2. There rose the choral' hymn of praise, And trump and timbrel^ answered keen ; And Zion's^ daughters poured their lays, With Priest's and Warrior's voice between. No portents * now our foes amaze ; Forsaken Israel wanders lone ! Our fathers would not know Thy ways, And Tnou hast left them to their own. 3. But present still, though now unseen When brightly shines the prosperous day, Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen To temper ^ the deceitful ray : And, O ! where stoops on Judah's path In shade and storm the frequent night, Be Thou long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning and a shining light ! 4. Our harps we left by Babel's streams,* The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's^ scorn; No censer^ round our altar beams, And mute are timbrel, ti-ump, and horn. But Thou hast said, the blood of goat, The flesh of rams I will not prize, A contrite^ heart, a humble thought, Are mine accepted sacrifice. 1 IEho'ral. Sung' by a choir, or by many persons together. 8 TIm'brel. An ancient Hebrew drum, consisting of a brass hoop, over which a piece of skin was stretched. * Zi'pN. A hill in Jerusalem ; a figu- rative term for Jerusalem. * PQR-TfiNTS'. Omens of commg ill. 5 TEm'per. Soften or moderate. 6 ^fiN'TiLE. The name applied by Jews to foreign nations. 7 Cen'ser. a vessel in which incense is burned. 8 Con'trIte. Repentant ; oppressed by a sense of sin ; penitent. • Babel's Stream. The River Euphrates, on which Babylon was situated. 124 THE FIFTH READER. ▼ XXIV. — THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. Campbell. [Thomas Campbell was born in Glasgow, July 27, 1777, and died in Bonlogne (bS-louO) France, June 15, 1844. His first poem, " Tlie Pleasures of Hope," was published in 1799, and was universally read and admired. His " Gertrude of Wy- oming" was published in 1809, and was received with equal favor. It contains passages of great descriptive beauty, and the concluding portions are full of pathos ; but the story moves languidly, and there is a want of truth in tho costume, and of probability in the incidents. His genius is seen to greater advantage in his shorter poems, such as "O'Connor's Child," " Lochiel s Warning," " Hohenlinden," " The Battle of the Baltic," and " Ye Mariners of England." These are matchless poems, — with a ring and power tliat stir the blood, and at the same time a magic of expression which fastens the words forever to the memory.] 1. OuB bugles^ sang truce '; forthe nightcloudhad lowered ', And the sentinel " stars set their watch in the sky, And thousands liad sunk on the ground overpowered, The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 2. When reposing that niglit on my pallet* of straw. By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, And thrice, ere the morning, I dreamt it again. 3. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array, Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track ; 'Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers that welcomed me back. 4. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung. 5. Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part> My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er. And my wife sobbed aloud in her fulness of heart. THE FIFTH READER. 125 6. " Stay, stay with us — rest ! thou art weary and worn ; And fain ^ was their war-broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. J BtJ'GLE. A military wind instru- ment of music. a TrOce. a temporary suspension of hostilities. • Lo^'^RED. Appeared dark ; gloomy. SfiN'Ti-NiiL. A soldier on watch or guard, and thus figuratively applied to the stars. PAl'let. a small or rude bed. Fain. Willing j glad i desirous. XXV. — WASHINGTON. Henry Lee. [Henry Lee was bom in Westmoreland county, Virginia, January 29, 1750, and died March 25, 1816. He served witli great distinction as a cavalry officer dur ing the revolutionary war, and was afterwards member of Congress and gov- ernor of Virginia. He was the author of " Memoirs of the War in the Southern Department of the United States." He was a member of Congress at the time of the death of Washington, and was selected by the House of llcpresentatives to pronounce a eulorry upon the departed hero and statesman, from which the following is an extract.] 1. FiKST in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, he was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private life. Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere ; uniform, dignified, and command- ing, his example was as edifying' to all around him as were the effects of that example lasting. 2. To his equals he was condescending ; to his inferiors kind; and to the dear object of his affections exemplarily '* tender. Correct throughout, vice shuddered in his pi-esencc, and virtue always felt his fostering hand ; the purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public virtues. 3. His last scene comported ^ with the whole tenor of his life: although in extreme pain, not a sigh, not a groan escaped him ; and with undisturbed serenity he closed his well-spent life. Such was the man America has lost! Such was the man for whom our nation mourns ! 11* 126 THE FIFTH READER. 4. Methinks I see his august image, and hear, falling from his venerable lips, these deep-sinking words : " Cease, sons of America, lamenting our separation : go on, and confirm by your wisdom the fruits of our joint counsels, joint efforts, and common dangers. Reverence religion; diffuse knowledge throughout your land; patronize the arts and sciences*; let liberty and order be inseparable companions ; control party spirit, the bane of free govern- ment ; observe good faith to, and cultivate peace with, all nations; shut up every avenue to foreign influence; con- tract rather than extend national connection; rely on yourselves only ; be American in thought and deed. Thus will you give immortality to that Union, which was the constant object of my terrestrial * labors. Thus will you preserve, undisturbed to the latest posterity, the felicity ^ of a people to me most dear: and thus will you supply (if my happiness is now aught to you) the only vacancy in the round of pure bliss high Heaven bestows." 1 Ed'i-fy-ino. Tending to improve by instruction ; instructive. s E)f:'EM-PLA-Rf-LY. In such a way as to be an example to others. « Cpm-p5rt'ed. Was suitable ; ac- corded. * Xets and 8?I'5N-c?§. The term arts is understood to mean, the practical application of knowledge to the uses of life ; the term sci- ences, the various departments of learning and knowledge. 6 Ter-r£s'tri-al. Earthly. 6 FE-Ll9'j-TY. Happiness. XXVI. — COUSIN DEBORAH'S LEGACY. Chambers's Journal. 1. Cousin Deborah was an old, unmarried lady, who had no other property than a moderate life annuity ^ The furniture of her house was faded and antique ; the linen was well darned ; the plate was scanty, and worn thin with use and frequent scouring ; the books were few, and in no THE FIFTH READER. 127 very good condition. She had no jewels or trinkets ; her days were passed in a dreary state of tranquillity, stitching, stitching, stitching forever, with her beloved huge work- box at her elbow. That wanted nothing ; for it was abun- dantly fitted ujD with worsted, cotton, tape, buttons, bod- kins, needles, and such a multiplicity of reels and balls that to enumerate them would be a tedious task. 2. Cousin Deborah particularly prided herself on her darning; carpets, house linen, stockings, all bore unim- peachable testimony to this branch of industry. Holes and thin places were hailed with delight by her; and it was whispered — but that might be a mere matter of scandal — that she even went so far as to cut holes m her best table cloths for the purpose of exercising her skill and ingenuity in repairing the fractures. Be that as it may, tiie work-box was as much a companion to her as dogs or cats are to many other single ladies. She was lost without it : her conversation always turned on the subject of thread papers and needle cases; and never was darning cotton more scientifically rolled into neat balls, than by the taper fingers of Cousin Deborah. 3. The contents of that wonderful work-box would have furnished a small shop. As a child, I always re- garded it with a species of awe and veneration ; and without daring to lay a finger on the treasure's it con- tained, my prying eyes greedily devoured its mysteries, when the raised edge revealed its mountains of cotton and forests of pins and needles. And I have no doubt that Cousin Deborah first regarded me with favor in con- sequence of being asked by my mother to give me a lesson in darning — a most necessary accomplishment in our family, as I was the eldest of many brothers and sisters; and, though very happy among ourselves, the circum- stances of our dear parents rendered the strictest industry and frugality absolutely indispensable in order to mako *' both ends meet." 128 THE FIFTH READER. 4 She was proud of me, on the whole, as a pupil, though she sometimes had occasion to reprove me for idleness and skipping stitches ; and between us, it is impos- sible to say how many pairs of stockings we made whole in the course of the year. Many a time I was invited by Cousin Deborah to take tea with her, and bring my work- bag in my hand, as a matter of course ; and we used to sit for long hours without speaking, intent on our needles, the silence unbroken save by the ticking of the eight-day clock. 5. I sometimes found it very dull work, I confess. Not so Cousin Deborah. She needed no other society than that of her work-box ; and I do not believe she loved any human being so well. Her whole heart was in it ; and the attachment she evinced towards me, as time went on, was fostered and encouraged by our mutual zeal in per- forming tasks of needle-work. Not that I shared in her devotion: Zwas actuated by a sense of duty alone, and would far rather, could I have done so conscientiously, have been dancing and laughing with companions of my own age. But ply the needle I did, and so did Cousin Deborah ; and we two became, with the huge old work- box between us, quite a pair of loving friends; and at least two evenings in every week I went to sit with the lone woman. She would have had me do so every evening ; but, though there were so many of us at home, our parents could not bear to spare any of us out of their sight oftener than they deemed indispensable. 6. At length Cousin Deborah's quiet and blameless life came to an end. Having shut her work-box, locked it, and put the key in a sealed packet, she turned her face to the wall, and fell asleep. 7. When her will was opened, it was found that she had left her books, furniture, and plate to a family that stood in the same relationship to her as we did, but who were in THE FIFTH READER. 129 much, more prosperous circumstances than we. To me she devised ^ the huge old work-box, with all its contents, "in token of the high esteem and affection with which I was regarded" by the deceased. I was to inherit tlie well-stored work-box, only on condition that it was to be daily used by me in preference to all others. " Every ball of darning cotton, as it diminishes, shall bring its blessing," said Cousin Deborah ; " for Ada Benwell " (that was my name) " is a good girl, and has darned more holes in the stockings of her little brothers and sisters than any other girl of her age. Therefore, I particularly commend the balls of darning cotton to her notice ; and I particularly recommend her to use them up as soon as she can, and she will meet with her reward in due season." 8. My mother was a little disappointed at the contents of our kinswoman's' will, and expressed her displeasure in a few sharp remarks, for which my father gently reproved her. The subject of the legacies'* was never again dis^ cussed by us. The work-box was in constant requisition at my side, and the balls of darning cotton rapidly dimin- ished. One day, as I was sitting beside my mother busy with my needle, she remarked, " You have followed our poor cousin's directions, my dear Ada. She particularly recommended you to use up the balls of darning cotton as soon as possible ; and look, there is one just done." 9. As my mother spoke, I unrolled a long needleful, and came to the end of that ball. A piece of paper fell to the ground, which had been the nucleus* on which the ball was formed. I stooped to pick it up, and was just about throwing it into the fire, when it caught my mother's eye, and she stretched out her hand and seized it. In a moment she unfolded it before our astonished gaze : it waa a bank note of fifty pounds ! 10. "O, dear, misjudged Cousin Deborah!" she ex- claimed; '■'•this is our Ada's reward in due season. It's just like her — kind, queer old soul.'" 130 THE FIFTH READER. 11. We were not long in using up all the other balls ot darning cotton in that marvellous work-box ; and such a reward as I found for my industry sure never was met with before or since. Truly, it was a fairy box, and my needle the fairy's wand. 12. No less than ten fifty-pound^ notes were thus brought to light ; and my father laughingly declared I had wrought my own dower' with my needle. No persuasions could induce him to appropriate the treasure ; he said it was my " reward," and belonged to me alone. 1 ^N-NC'}-Ty. A sum of money paid yearly. 2 De-vI§ed', Gave by a will. » KtN§'wOiM-AN (-wum-9n). A female relative, i LEG'A-cy. A gift of money or goods by a will. 6 NiJ'CL?-vs. The central part of a body, or that around which matter is collected. 8 PoOnd. A money of account used in England, equivalent to about four dollars and eighty-four cents. T Do^'ER. The portion or property which a woman brings her hus- band in marriage j dowry. XXVIL — THE THREE MIGHTY. New Monthly Magazine. [The incidents on which these lines are founded is related in the twenty-third chapter of the Second Book of Samuel, and also in the eleventh chapter of the First Book of Chronicles.] 1. Watchfires are blazing on hill and plain; The noonday light is restored again ; There are shining arms in Rephaim's vale, .. And bright is the glitter of clanging mail. ^|gj^-' 2. The Philistine hath fixed his encampment here ; Afar stretch his lines of banner and spear. And his chariots of brass are ranged side by side, And his war steeds neigh loud in their trappings ' of pride S. His tents are placed where the waters flow ; The sun hath dried up the springs below, THE FIFTH READER. 131 And Israel hatli neither well nor pool, The rage of her soldiers' thirst to cool. 4. In the cave of Adullam King David lies, Overcome with the glare of the burning skies; And his lip is parched, and his tongue is dry, But none can the grateful draught supply. 5. Though a crowned king, in that painful hour, One flowing cup might have bought his power. What worth, in the fire of thirst, could be The purple pomp of his sovereignty ? 6. But no cooling cup from river or spring, To reUeve his want, can his servants bring ; And he cries, "Are there none in my train or state* Will fetch me the water of Bethlehem gate ? " 7. Then three of his warriors, "the mighty three," The boast of the monarch's chivalry ^, Uprose in their strength, and their bucklers * rang. As with eyes of flame on their steeds they sprang. 8. On their steeds they sprang, and with spurs of speed Rushed forth in the strength of a noble deed. And dashed on the foe like the torrent flood, Till he floated away in a tide of blood. 9. To the right — to the left — where their blue swords shine, Like autumn corn falls the Philistine ; And sweeping along with the vengeance of fate. The " mighty " rush onward to Bethlehem gate. 10. Through a bloody gap in his shattered array. To Bethlehem's well they have hewn their way j 132 THE FIFTH READER. Then backward they turn on the corse-covered plain, And charge through the foe to their monarch again. 11. The king looks at the cup, but the crystal draught, At a price too high for his want, hath been bought ; They urge him to drink, but he wets not his hp ; Though great is his need, he refuses to sip. 12. But he pours it forth to Heaven's Majesty, He poui's it forth to the Lord of the sky ; 'Tis a draught of death — 'tis a cup blood-stained — 'Tis a prize from man's suffering and agony gained. 13. Should he taste of a cup that h\.s " mighty three " Had obtained by their peril and jeopardy^? Should he drink of their life ? 'Twas the thought of a king; And again he returned to his suffering. 1 TrXp'ping§. Ornaments, especially sucli as are used to decorate a horse. 2 State. Persons forming the suite or attendants of another. 3 gHlv'AL-RY. Body of knights or of brave and courteous warriors. 4 BDck'ler. a liind of shield worn OB the left arm. 5 J£op'^R-DV. Danger. XXVIIL —MARCO BOZZARIS. IIALLECK. [Pitz-Greene Halleck was born in Guilford, Connecticut, July, 1795. Marco Bozzaris (bot-sJlr'is or bot'B?-ris), one of the most admired of his pooms, was first published in 1827, in a small volume of poems, most of winch had previ- ously appeared in a fugitive form. ' Bozzaris was one of the martyrs in the cause of the independence of Greece. lie fell in a night attack upon the camf of the Turks, August, 1823, near the site of the old battle-field of Plataja..] 1. At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance ' bent, THE FIFTH READER. 133 Should tremble at his power : In dreams through camp and court he bore The trophies^ of a conqueror; In dreams his song of triumph heard ; Then wore his monarch's signet^ ring, — Then pressed that monarch's throne, — a king; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird. 2. At midnight, in the forest shades, * Bozzaris ranged his Suliote'* band. True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian thousands stood. There had the glad earth drunk their blood. On old Plataea's day ; And now there breathed that haunted air The sons of sires who conquered there, With arm to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far, as they. 3. An hour passed on, — the Turk awoke; That bright dream was his last ; He woke, to hear his sentries shriek — « To arms ! — they come ! — The Greek ! the Greek ! " He woke, to die midst flame and smoke, And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band — "Strike — till the last armed foe expires! Strike — for your altars and your fires ! Strike — for the green graves of your sires I God, and your native land !" 12 134 THE FIFTH READER. 4. They fought, like brave men, long and well ; They piled the ground with Moslem'* slain: They conquered ; but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close,- Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun. 6. Come to the bridal chamber. Death ! Come to the mother's, when she feels For the first time her first-born's breath; Come when the blessed seals That close the pestilence are broke, And crowded cities wail its stroke ; Come in Consumption's ghastly form, The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; Come when the heart beats high and warm, With banquet song, and dance, and wine,— And thou art terrible : the tear. The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier. And all we know, or dream, or fear, Of agony, are thine. 6. But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Bozzaris ! with the storied ** brave Greece nurtured in her glory's time, Rest thee : there is no prouder grave, Even in her own proud clime. THE FIFTH READER. 135 We tell thy doom without a sigh ; For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, ■ One of the few, the immortal names, That were not born to die ! 1 BOp'pli-ance. Supplication ; en- treaty ; submission, s Tr5'phie§. Memorials of victory. V SIg'net rIng. a ring containing a signet or seal of authority. i SO'Li-OTK. An inhabitant of Suli, a mountainous district of Greece. 5 Mos'LEM. Mussulmen; Turks. 9 St5'ried. Celebrated or mentioned in story. XXIX. — THE HARD-HEARTED RICH MAN. New Monthly 3Iagazine. 1. Old Jacob Stock ! The chimes of the clock were not more punctual in proclaiming the progress of time, than in marking the regularity of his visits at the temples of Plutus* in Threadneedle Street and Bartholomew Lane. His devotion to them was exemplary. In vain the wind and the rain, the hail and the sleet, battled against his rugged front. Not the slippery ice, nor the thick- falling snow, nor the whole artillery of elementary '^ warfare, could check the plodding perseverance of the man of the World, or tempt him to lose the chance which the morning, however unpropitious it seemed in its external aspect, might yield him of profiting by the turn of a fraction. 2. He was a stout-built, round-shouldered, squab-looking^ man, of a bearish aspect. His features were hard, and his heart was harder. You could read the interest-table in the wrinkles of his brow, trace the rise and fall of stocks * by the look of his countenance, while avarice, selfishness, and money-getting glared from his gray, glassy eye. Nature had poured no balm into his breast, nor was his " gross and earthly mould " susceptible of pity. A single look of his would daunt the most importunate petitioner J. 36 THE FIFTH READER. that ever attempted to extract hard coin by the soft rhet- oric of a heart-moving tale. 3. The wife of one whom he had known in better days pleaded before him for her sick husband and famishing infants. Jacob, on occasions like these, was a man of few words. He was as chary ^ of them as of his money, and he let her come to the end of her tale without interrup- tion. She paused for a reply, but he gave none. " Indeed, he is very ill, sir." " Can't help it." " We are very dis- tressed." " Can't help it." " Our poor children, too ." « Can't help that either." 4. The petitioner's eye looked a mournful reproach, which would have interpreted itself to any other heart but his, "Indeed, you can;" but she was silent. Jacob felt more awkwardly than he had ever done in his life. His hand involuntarily scrambled about his breeches' pocket. There was something like the weakness of human nature stirring within him. Some coin had unconsciously worked its way into his hand — his fingers insensibly closed ; but the eflfort to draw them forth, and the impossibility of effecting it without unclosing them, roused the dormant* selfishness of his nature, and restored his self-possession. 5. " He has been very extravagant." " Ah, sir, he has been very unfortunate, not extravagant." "Unfortunate! Ah, it's the same thing. Little odds, I fancy. For my part, I wonder how folks can be unfortunate. 7" was never unfortunate. Nobody need be unfortunate if they look after the main chance.^ I always looked after the main chance." "He has had a large family to maintain." "Ah, man-ied foolishly! no offence to you, ma'am. But when poor folks marry poor folks, what are they to look for, you know? Besides, he was so foolishly fond of assisting others. If a friend was sick, or in jail, out came his purse, and then his creditors might go whistle. Now, if he had married a woman with money, you know, why then " THE FIFTH READER. 137 6. The supplicant turned pale, and was near fainting. Jacob was alarmed; not that he sympathized, but a woman's fainting was a scene that he had not been used to : besides, there was an awkwardness about it ; for Jacob was a bachelor. 7. Sixty summers had passed over his head without imparting a ray of warmth to his heart ; without exciting one tender feeling for the sex, deprived of whose cheering presence the paradise of the world were a wilderness of weeds. So he desperately extracted a crown piece from the depth profound, and thrust it hastily into her hand. The action recalled her wandering senses. She blushed — - it was the honest blush of pride at the meanness of the gift. She courtesied ; staggered towards the door ;. opened it ; closed it ; raised her hand to her forehead^ and burst into tears. ... 1 PlO'tvs. The god of wealth among the ancient Greeks. 2 £L-E-MfiNT'A-RY. Relating to or explaining elements or first princi- ples ; here, of or belonging to one or more of the four elements, earth, air, water, fire. 8 BquAb-look'ing (luk). Short and thlck- 4 St6cks. Property or shares in a national or other public debt ; alsoy shares in a corporation, such as a railroad company, a bank, &c. 6 ChAr.'v. Sparing; careful. 6 Dor'mant. Slumbering; sleeping; suspended. 7 Main chAnce. That which beet serves one's own interest. XXX. — THE BOBOLINK. Irving. [Washington Irving, author of " The Sketch Book," " Bracebridge Hall," "Astoria," "Life of Columbus," "Life of Washington," and various other well-known works, was born in the city of New York, April 8, 1783, and died November 28, 1859. Of all our writers, no one is so generally popular ; and the universal favor witli which his works are received is due, not merely to their great literary merits, their graceful style, rich humor, and unaffected pathos, but also to tiie fact that they are so strongly marked by the genial and amia- ble traits of the writer, Avhicli were conspicuous in his life, and made him be- loved by all who knew him. The following extract is taken from '• Wolfert's Koost," one of his late pu!>- 12* 138 THE FIFTH READER. lications, consisting^ of narratives, essays, and sketches, most of which origi- nally appeared in the Knickerbocker Magazine.] 1. The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals the European lark in my estimation, is the bob- lincon, or bobolink, as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice portion of our year which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May, so often given by the poets. 2. With us it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the year ; and later than this, begin the parch- ing, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval Nature is in all her freshness and fragrance: "the rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle^ is heard in the land." 3. The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest verdure ; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel ; the air is perfumed by the sweet-brier and the wild rose; the meadows are enamelled^ with clover blos- soms; while the young apple, the peach, and the plum begin to swell, and the cherry to glow among the green leaves. 4. This is the chosen season of revelry' of the bobolink. He comes amidst the pomp and fragrance of the season ; his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when the clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long, flaunting weed, and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of rich, tinkling notes, crowding one upon another, like the out- pouring melody of the sky-lark, and possessing the same rapturous character. THE FIFTH READER. 139 5. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pur- suit of his mate ; always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody ; and always with the sam# appearance of intoxication and delight. 6. Of all the birds of our groves and meadows the bobolink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of the year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom ; but when I, luckless urchin ! was doomed to be mewed up, during the livelong day, in a school room. It seemed as if the little varlet* mocked at me as he flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me with his happier lot. 7. O, how I envied him ! No lessons, no task, no school ; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then fnore versed in poetry, I might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo ; — " Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green; Thy slcy is ever clear ; Thou liast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year. « O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee; We'd make, on joyful wing, Our annual visit round the globe. Companions of the spring." 8. Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this feathered voluptuary", which I will venture to impart for the benefit of my young readers who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I have shown him only as I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when he in a manner devoted himself 140 THE FIFTH READER. to elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird of music, and song, and taste, and sensibility, and refinement. While this lasted he was sacred from injury; the very schoolboy would not fling a stone at him, and the merest rustic^ would pause to listen to his strain. 9. But Aark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover-blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits, doffs' his poetical suit of black, assumes a russet^, dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyments of common, vulgar birds. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear ; he is stuffing himself with the seeds of the tall weeds on which he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has become a " bon-vivant V' a " gourmand *° " ; with him, now, there is nothing like the "joys of the table." In a little while he grows tired of i^lain, homely fare, and is off* on a gastronomical" tour in quest of foreign luxuries. 10. We next hear of him, with myriads of his kind, banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware, and grown corpulent ^^ with good feeding. He has changed his name in travelling. Boblincon no more — he is the reed-bird now, the much-sought-for tidbit of Pennsylvania epicures ^\ the rival in unlucky fame of the ortolan ! Wherever he goes, pop ! pop ! pop ! every rusty firelock " in the country is blazing away. He sees his companions falling by thou- sands around him. 11. Does he take warning and reform ? Alas ! not he. Incorrigible** epicure ! again he wings his flight. The rice swamps of the South invite him. He gorges himself among them almost to bursting; he can scarcely fly for corpulency. He has once more changed his name, and is now the famous rice-bird of the Carolinas. liust stage of his career: behold him spitted, with dozens of his corpu- lent companions, and served up, a vaunted dish, on the table of some southern gastronome. THE FIFTH KEADER. 141 12. Such is the story of the bobolink — once spiritual, musical, admired, the joy of the meadows, and the favorite bird of spring ; finally, a gross little sensualist, who expiates his sensuality in the larder. His story contains a moral worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys ; wai-ning them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity during the early part of his career, but to eschcAV^^ all tendency to that gross and dissipated indulgence which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end. 1 TiJb'tlb. The turtle dove. 2 JE.v-Am'elled. Overlaid with enam- el, or adorned so as to resemble enamel; variegated. » Rfiv'EL, RY. Festivity ; jollity ; ca- rousal. * VXr'let. a servant or attendant; also, a rogue ; a scapegrace. * Vq-lCpt'v-a-ry. One given to pleasure and indulgence. * ROs'tic. An inhabitant of the coun- try ; a peasant. 1 Doffs. Puts off; lays aside. 8 ECs's^x. A reddish-gray color. 9 BoN-riVANT (bon(g)'ve-van(g)'). A good liver. 10 Gour'aiand. One fond of good eat ing ; an epicure. 11 GXs-trq-nom'i-cal. Relating to good living ; gluttonous. 12 Cor'pv-lEnt. Fleshy ; fat. 13 Ep'i-cure. One addicted to luxu- rious eating. 14 Fire'lock. a gun. 15 In-cor'ri-^i-ble. That cannot be corrected. 16 ?s-CHEW' (es-chii'). Avoid ; ehun. XXXI. — THE CHAMELEON. Merrick. [James Merrick, the author of this popular poem, was an English clergy man, born in 1720, died in 1768.] 1. Oft has it been my lot to mark A proud, conceited, talking spark \ With eyes that hardly served at most To guard their master 'gainst a post ; Yet round the world the blade ^ has been. To see whatever could be seen. 1-42 THE FIFTH READER. 2. Returning from his finished tour', Grown ten times perter than before, Whatever word you chance to drop. The travelled fool your mouth will stop : ** Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — I've seen — and sure I ought to know." So begs you'd pay a due submission, And acquiesce'' in his decision. ^, Two travellers of such a cast. As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed. And on their way, in friendly chat. Now talked of this, and then of that, Discoursed a while, 'mongst other matter, Of the chameleon's ° form and nature, 4. ■•' A stranger animal," cries one, i Sure never lived beneath the sun ; A- lizard's body, lean and long, A fish's head, a serpent's tongue. Its foot with triple claw disjoined®; And what a length of tail behind ! How slow its pace ! and then its hue ^ Who ever saw so fine a blue ! " — 5. " Hold there," the other quick replies, « 'Tis green ; I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay. And warmed it in the sunny ray : Stretched at its ease the beast I viewedj, And saw it eat the air for food." — 6. " I've seen it, sir, as well as you. And must again affirm it blue ; THE FIFTH READER. 143: At leisure I the beast surveyed Extended in the cooling shade." 7. " 'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." "Green ! " cries the other in a fury : " Why, sir, d' ye think I've lost my eyes ? " " Twere no great loss," the friend replies ; " For if they always serve you thus, You'll find them of but little use." 8. So high at last the contest rose, From words they almost came to blowB : When, luckily, came by a third ; To him the question they referred. And begged he'd tell them, if he knew, Whether the thing was green or blue. 9. " Sirs," cries the umpire ', " cease your pother® The creature's neither one nor t'other, I caught the animal last night. And viewed it o'er by candle light; I marked it well ; 'twas black as jet. You stare ; but, sirs, I've got it yet, And can produce it." — " Pray, sir, do ; I'll lay my life the thing is blue." "And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen The reptile ^, you'll pronounce him green." 10. " Well, then, at once to end the doubt," Replies the man, "I'll turn him out; And when before your eyes I've set him. If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." He said; and full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo ! — 'twas white. 144 THE FIFTH KEADER. 1 1 Both stared ; the man looked wondrous wise ; " My children," the chameleon cries, (Then first the creature found a tongue,) " You all are right, and all are wrong : When next you talk of what you view, Think others see as well as you : Nor wonder if you find that none Prefers your eyesight to his own." t SpXrk. a lively, showy man. « BlIux. a gay, dashing fellow, 8 Tour. A journey. * Ac-QU}-£scE' In. Assent to ; sub- mit to quietly. » jEha-me'le-qn. An animal of the lizard kind, noted for changing its color. • DISJOINED'. Separated; parted; di- vided ; disunited. 7 tJM'PiRE. A party, to whom a dis- pute or question between two or more is referred for settlement. 8 P6th'er. Tumult; bustle. » Rfip'TiLE. A creeping animal, aB a Buake, a lizard, &c. XXXIL — THE PROGRESS OF HUMANITY. SU3INER. [Charles Sumner was bom in Boston, January 6, 1811, and was graduated at Harvard College in l&JO. He was admitted to the bar in 1834, and in 1837 vis- ited Europe. Having become earnestly engaged in the anti-slavery cause, he was chosen to the Senate of the United States from the State of Massachusetts, in the winter of 1851, and still continues a member of that body, having been twice reelected. He is well known for the energy and eloquence with which he has assailed the institution of slavery. His works, consisting of speeches and occasional addresses, liave been published in three volumes, and are re- xoarkable for fervid eloquence and abundant illustration.} 1. Let us, then, be of good cheer. From the great Law of Progress we may derive at once our duties and our encouragements. Humanity has ever advanced, urged by the instincts and necessities implanted by God, — thwarted' sometimes by obstacles which have caused it for a time — a moment only, in the immensity ' of ages — to deviate from its true line, or to seem to retreat, — but still ever onward. THE FIFTH READER. 145 2. Amidst the disappointments which may attend in- dividual exertions, amidst the universal agitations which now surround us, let us recognize this law, confident that whatever is just, whatever is humane, whatever is /good, whatever is true, according to an immutable ordi- nance of Providence, in the golden light of the future, must prevail. With this faith, let us place our hands, as those of little children, in the great hand of God. He will ever guide and sustain us — through pains and perils, it may be — in the path of Progress. 3. In the recognition of this law, there are motives to beneficent activity, which shall endure to the last syllable of life. Let the young embrace it : they shall find in it an ever-living spring. Let the old cherish it still : they shall derive from it fresh encouragement. It shall give to all, both old and young, a new appreciation of their existence, a new sentiment of their force, a new revelation of their destiny. 4. Be it, then, our duty and our encouragement to live and to labor, ever mindful of the Future. But let us not forget the Past. All ages have lived and labored for us. From one has come art, from another jurisprudence^, from another the compass, from another the printing-press; from all have proceeded priceless lessons of truth and vir- tue. The earliest and most distant times are not without a present influence on our daily lives. The mighty stream of Progress, though fed by many tributary* waters and hidden springs, derives something of its force from the earlier currents which leap and sparkle in the distant mountain recesses, over precipices, among rapids, and be- neath the shade of the primeval ^ forest. 6. Nor should we be too impatient to witness the fulfil- ment of our aspirations. The daily increasing rapidity of discovery and improvement, and the daily multiplying efibrts of beneficence, in later years outstripping the im- 13 146 THE FIFTH READER. aginations of the most sanguine % furnish well-grounded assurance that the advance of man will be with a constantly- accelerating ' speed. The extending intercourse among the nations of the earth, and among all the children of the human family, gives new promises of the complete diffu- sion of Truth, penetrating the most distant places, chasing away the darkness of night, and exposing the hideous forms of slavery, of war, of wrong, which must be hated as soon as they are clearly seeti. 6. Cultivate, then, a just moderation. Learn to recon- cile® order with change, stability with progress. This is a* wise conservatism ^ ; this is a wise reform. B-ightly under- standing these terms, who would not be a Conservative ? who would not be a Reformer? — a conservative of all that is good, a reformer of all that is evil; a conservative of knowledge, a reformer of ignorance; a conservative of truths and principles whose seat is the bosom of God, a reformer of laws and institutions which are but the wicked or imperfect work of man ; a conservative of that divine order which is found only in movement, a reformer of those earthly wrongs and abuses which spring from a vio lation of the great Law of human progress. Blending these two characters in one, let us seek to be, at the same time, Reformixg Conservatives, and Conservativb Reformers. 1 ThwArt'ed. Frustrated ; hindered. 8 Im-m6n'si-tv. Unlimited extent; infinity. 8 Ju-Rjs prC'dence. The science of law and right. * TrIb'u-ta-ry. Paying tribute ; yielding- supplies, 6 Fri-mE'val. Original; pertaining to the earliest ages j primitive. « SXn'guine. Hopeful ; confident. T Ac-c£l'er-at-ing. Hastening ; in- creasing. 8 R£c'pN-ciLE. Restore to favor*, cause to agree or harmonize. 9 Con SERV'A-TI?M. Adherence to existing institutions ; disiucliu* tion to change. THE FIFTH READER. 147 XXXIII. — THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. WOODWORTH. fSamuel "Wood worth, the author of this pleasing and popular poem, was a native of "Weymouth, in Massachusetts, and was born about 1790, and died in New York, at the age of about fifty. He was a printer by trade, and lived many years in Boston. He was a man of considerable literary talent, and pub- lished in New York a volume of fugitive pieces, called Melodies, Duets, Trios, Songs, and Ballads, which reached a third edition. Woodworth was also the author of a well-known patriotic song, called the Hunters of Kentucky.] 1. How dear to this heart are the scenes of ray childhood, * When fond recollection presents them to view ! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew ; The wide-spreading pond, and the mill which stood by it^ The bridge and the rock where the cataract * fell ; The cot of my father, the dairy-house ^ nigh it. And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well : The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well. 2. That moss-covered vessel I hail as a treasure ; For often, at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure. The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing I And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; Then soon, with the emblem ^ of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well : The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. 3. How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! Not a full blushing goblet " could tempt me to leave it Though filled with the nectar ^ that Jupiter sips. 148 THE FIFTH READER. And now, far removed from the loved situation, The tear of regret will intrusively swell, As fancy reverts 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 the well. 1 CXt'a-rXct. a waterfall. * Dai'rv-hoOse. a place in which milk, cheese, and butter are kept. » £m'blem. An object which repre- sents one thing to the eye and an- other to the mind. Water is called the emblem of truth, because of its purity and clearness. * GSb'let. a large drinking cup, 6 Nfic'TAR. The drink of the heathen gods, of which Jupiter was sup- posed to be the chief. « XXXIV. — IVAN THE CZAR. Mrs. Hemans. [Ivan, the Czar of Russia, sumamed the Terrible, in his old age was besieging the city of Novgorod, in 1582. His nobles, perceiving that his powers were im- paired by age, requested that the assault might be made under the command of his son. This proposal threw him into the greatest fury ; and nothing could soothe him. His son threw himself at his feet ; but his savage father repulsed him, and struck him so cruel a blow that the unhappy youth died from the effects of it in two days after. The father then sank into the deepest despair. He abandoned alike the conduct of the war and the government of the empire, and soon followed his son to the tomb.] 1. He sat in silence on the ground, The old and haughty Czar * ; Lonely, though princes girt him round, And leaders of the war : He had cast his jewelled sabre % That many a field had won. To the earth beside his youthful dead. His fair and first-born son. With a robe of ermine ^ for its bed Was laid that form of clay, THE FIFTH READER. 149 Where the light a stormy sunset shed, Through the rich tent made way; And a sad and solemn beauty On the pallid face came down, Which the lord of nations mutely watched. In the dust with his renown. 3. Low tones, at last, of woe and fear From his full bosom broke ; — A mournful thing it was to hear How then the proud man spoke. The voice that through the combat Had shouted far and high. Came forth in strange, dull, hollow tones> Burdened with agony. 4. " There is no crimson on thy cheek, And on thy lip no breath ; I call thee, and thou dost not speak — They tell me this is death ! And fearful things are whispering That I the deed have done — For the honor of thy father's name. Look up, look up, ray son ! 5. "Well might I know death's hue and m.ien ; But on thine aspect, boy, What, till this moment, have I seen, Save pride and tameless joy ? Swiftest thou wert to battle, And bravest there of all — How could I think a warrior's frame Thus like a flower should fall ? 6. "I will not bear that still, cold look; Rise up, thou fierce and free ; 13* 160 THE FIFTH READER. Wake as the storm wakes. I will brook All, save this calm, from thee. Lift brightly up and proudly Once more thy kindling eyes ! Hath my word lost its power on earth? I say to thee, Arise ! 7. " Didst thou not know I loved thee well ? Thou didst not, and art gone In bitterness of soul to dwell Where man must dwell alone. Come back, young fiery spirit, If but for one hour, to learn The secrets of the folded * heart That seemed to thee so stem. 8. " Thou wert the first, the first fair child, That in mine arms I pressed ; Thou wert the bright one, that hast smiled Like summer on my breast. I reared thee as an eagle ; To the chase thy steps I led ; I bore thee on my battle horse ; I look upon thee — dead ! 9. " Lay down my warlike banners here, Never again to wave ; And bury my red sword and spear, Chiefs, in my first horn's grave. And leave me ! I hate conquered, I have slain ; my work is done. Whom have I slain ? Ye answer not ; Thou too art mute, my son." 10. And thus his wild lament was poured Through the dark, resounding uight; THE FIFTH READER. 151 And the battle knew no more his sword, Nor the foaming steed his might. He heard strange voices moaning In every wind that sighed ; From the searching stars of heaven he shrank; Humbly the conqueror died. 1 Cz'AR (zar, or tzar). The title of the emperor of liussia. « Si'BRE. A kind of sword, with a broad, heavy blade. 3 ER'MiNE. The fur of a small animal of the same name, of great value. 4 Brook, (bruk). Bear; endure. 5 Foi.D']Ei>. Reserved J shut up; close XXXV. — A LION HUNT. Gerakd. [This lesson is taken from the Adventures of Gdrard (zha-rar') the Lion Killer, translated from the French by Charles E. Whitehead. Gerard was an officer in tlie French army employed in Algeria, in North Africa, Miiich is now a French province. Being a man of courage and an admirable marksman, he succeeded in killing a great number of lions, and thus acquired a high reputution both among his own countrymen and the natives of the country. Lions commit such ravages among their cattle that he who destroys one is considered a great public benefactor. Gerard's adventures have been recently published in PariH, where they have attracted much attention. They are written in a very spirited style, and his daring feats are modestly narrated.] 1. On the 4th of August, 1844, I received an invitation from the inhabitants of Mahouna,* the lion's paradise, which I immediately accepted. On my amval, about sunset, I found the village surrounded by immense piles of light wood, aiTanged for the reception of the lion, that paid them nightly calls. I forbade their being kindled, and immediately selected the place I intended to occupy, in order to waylay him that very night, in case he should come as usual to prey on the herds. 2. Having by careful searching found the route by which * Mahou'na is a place iu the province of Guelma, in Algeria. 152 THE FIFTH READER. the animal usually came, I took my seat directly in his path, in spite of the remonstrances of the Arabs. Finding me fixed in my purpose, they brought me mats and cush- ions ; and a smoking repast was soon placed by the side of the couch that was to sei-ve me for the night. 3. My hosts remained with me till a late hour, telling many tragic stories of the strength and ferocity of the lion. As midnight approached, the party broke up, with many prayers for my success. I remained on the watch with a native corporal ' in the French service, named Saadi, whose brother was chief of this country. He was armed with a carbine', and I with a double-barrelled rifle. 4. About one o'clock in the morning, my Arab friend, little accustomed to these night watches, pleaded guilty to being very sleepy, and stretched himself out behind me, where, to do him justice, he slept most soundly. I know many brave men who would not have done as much, while lying in wait for a Hon. I had taken the precaution to have all the dogs tied up under the tents, so as to quiet their customary clamor; and now, in the dead silence around me, I could detect the faintest noise or motion. 5. Up to this time the heavens had been serene, and the moon clear; but soon clouds gathered in the west, and came scudding past before a warm, sultry wind; and a little later the sky was all overcast', the moon disappeared, and the thunder rolled round us in heavy peals, announcing a coming tempest. Then the rain fell in torrents, and, drenching my companion, he awoke, and we consulted for a moment about returning. But while we were talking, an Arab called out from the tents, " Beware ! the lion will come with the storm." 6. This decided me to remain at my post, and I covered the locks of my gun with the skirts of my coat. Soon the rain ceased; flashes of lightning played round the distant horizon '' ; and the moon, brighter than ever, came in and THE FIFTH READER. Ibc' out from the fleecy clouds over- our heads. I took advan- tage of every one of these brief moments of clear sky to survey the country about me, and to examine every clump of trees or fallen log ; and it was in one of these short luminous intervals that all of a sudden I thought I saw the lion. I waited breathless till the moon came out again. Yes, it was he ! standing motionless only a few paces from the camp. 7. Accustomed to see fires lighted at every tent, to hear a hundred dogs barking in terror, and to see the men hurl- ing lighted brands at him, he, without doubt, was at a loss to explain the rather suspicious silence that reigned around him. 8. While I was turning slowly round, in order to take better aim, without being seen by the animal, a cloud shut out the moon. I was seated with my left elbow on my knee, my rifle at my shoulder, watching, by turns, the lion, that I only recognized as a confused mass, and the passing cloud, the extent of which I anxiously contemplated. 9. At length it passed by ; and the moonlight, dearer to me than the most beautiful sunshine, illumined the scene, and again showed me the lion, still standing in the same place. I saw him the better because he was so much raised above me; and he loomed up^ proudly magnificent, stand- ing as he was in majestic repose, with his head high in air, and his flowing mane undulating^ in the wind and falling to his knees. It was a black lion, of noble form and the largest size. As he presented his side to me, I aimed just behind his shoulder, and fired. 10. I heard a fierce roar of mingled pain and rage echoing up the hills with the report of my gun, and then from under the smoke I saw the lion bounding upon me. 11. Saadi, roused' the second time that night from his slumbers, sprang to his gun, and was about to fire over my (shoulder. With a motion of my arm I pushed aside the 154 THE FIFTH READER. baiTel of his gun, and when the beast, still roaring furiously, was within three steps of me, I fired my second barrel directly into hi« breast. 12. Before I could seize my companion's gun, the lion rolled at my feet, bathing them in the blood that gushed in torrents from his throat. He had fallen so near me that I could have touched him from where I stood. 13. In looking for the balls, I found the first one just behind the shoulder, where I had intended it to hit ; but the second, that had been fired in haste, and almost at hazard, had given the mortal wound. From this moment I learned that it is not enough to aim correctly in order to kill a lion, and that it is a feat infinitely more serious than I had at first supposed. 14. It was a long while before the Arabs could believe that the lion was really dead, or venture into the presence j>f the fallen monarch of the forest. But when assured that their dread enemy, from whom they had suffered so much, could no longer harm them, they overwhelmed me yrith thanks and congratulations. 15. The men, with stately grace, kissed the hem of my garment, or my rifle that lay at my side, saying, "May God strengthen your arm and bless you." 16. The women kissed my hand, saying, "God bless the mother that bore you." The mothers lifted up their chil- dren in their arms, that they might touch me and kiss me, saying, " Don't be afraid ; he only harms the lion ; he is our friend and brother." 17. I can say, with all sincerity, that there were no voices BO sweet as those which named my mother's name, that aske^ me her age, and when I had left her, if I ever heard from her now when far away, if I wanted to see her, and if she were ever coming to their country; and that ended their questions by invoking a thousand blessings on her honored head. j THE FIFTH READER. 155 18. The death of the lion had truly been a blessing, since it summoned up to my mind such pleasant remem- brances of a far-away home, and of a mother whom I so dearly loved. No sweeter praise could have been be- stowed ; no greater triumph could have been won. 1 CoR'pp-RAL. A -non-commissioned ofRcor, the lowest in rank, in a company of soldiers. ' Car'bIne. a small gun, in size be- tween a pistol and a musket, car- ried by cavalry. i 6'v]?R-cAsT. Covered with clouds. 4 Hp-Ri'ZQN. The line where the sky and earth appear to meet. 5 Loomed Op. Stood up so as to be distinctly seen ; appeared larger than reality. 6 tJN'DV-LAT-iNG. Flowing; heaving as the waves of the sea move. XXXYL — THE WHALE FISHERY. North American Review. 1. The method of taking the whale, as practised by all nations, and for every species, is nearly as follows : — The whale is compelled to come frequently to the surface, for the pui-pose of breathing. The nearest boat approaches from behind, from which the harpoon ^ ^s launched into the huge carcass. This it is almost impossible to disengage, it being provided with two strong barbs'. 2. If not instantly killed, the whale sinks, and sinks often to a great depth. Exhausted by the immense super- incumbent' pressure of the water, he sometimes comes up dead. Frequently he sinks only a short distance ; but as soon as he rises, the whalemen endeavor to plunge into him the lance, an instrument of the finest steel, sharpened with the keenness of the surgeon's lancet. 3. Attached to the harpoon is a line, which, as the animal is disposed to sink or dash through the waves, is suffered to run loose around a small post in the stern of the boat ; and it often flies with such rapidity that the har- pooner is enveloped in smoke, and it frequently becomes 156 THE FIFTH READER. necessary to pour on water, to prevent the friction of the rope on the post, from generating ^ flame. 4. If the line becomes entangled while the whale is sinking, the boat sometimes rears one end aloft, and makes a majestic dive into the deep. In the contest the boat is sometimes dashed to shivers, and the men experience no pleasant immersion^, if they are fortunate enough to escape without broken limbs. 5. The whale, stung with the fatal wound, sometimes dashes along- the surface with a deathlike energy ; and the little boat, almost under water, flies with the velocity of the wind. If he escape, he escapes with a prize on which he has no cause of congratulation ; for he carries, deeply buried in his body, one or more of the sharp instruments, and drags off several hundred fathoms of rope. 6. Our whalemen have found irons in the carcass of a whale, known to have been planted there several years before, on another ocean. As the warp flies, it sometimes throws its coils around the body of a man, and dragging him over in a moment, carries him into the ocean depths, from which he never more emerges. Sometimes it only dislocates or breaks the legs and arms of the unfortunate men who become entangled in the folds. 7. A captain of a New London ship was caught by two coils of the wai-p, one around his body, and another around his leg. He had the presence of mind immediately to seize his knife, and after a while succeeded in cutting himself loose. He was carried, however, to a great depth, and when he returned to the surface, was almost exhausted. 8. The whale, when roused to desperation, makes an onset with his mouth only. Then he crushes a boat to atoms. A sperm whale ^ once destroyed two boats of a Nantucket ship, and then attacked the ship ; rushing with tremendous force against her side, he crushed in her planks, and thus made a breach from which she soon sunk. THE FIFTH READER. 157 9. The whaler sometimes roams for months without finding his prey ; but he is buoyed up by the expectation of finally reaping the profits of a great voyage. To some minds the pursuit of such gigantic game has a tinge of the romantic. There must be a thrilling excitement iu the adventurous chase. " The blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare." 10. Many become passionately attached to the busi- ness, notwithstanding its privations, and reluctantly leave it at last. They have moments of most pleasing anxiety, and meet with some incidents of the most enlivening cast. 11. On the south-east coast of Africa is Delego Bay, a calm, smooth place, frequented by vessels from various parts of the world. In this bay, a few years since,* a whale was observed almost equally distant from an American and an English ship. From both, the boats were low^ered, manned, and pushed off in an instant. They sped with the velocity of the wind. The English, at first ahead, perceiving their rivals gaining on them, bore wide off ^ to keep them out of reach of the whale. 12. When the two boats were nearly abreast, one of the American sailors leaped from his seat, and with extraor- dinary agility hurled the ponderous^ harpoon over the English boat. It struck the monster in the vital part; the English boat shrunk back under the warp ; the waves were crimsoned with blood; and the American took possession^ while the whole bay echoed and reechoed with repeated shouts of applause. I Har-p66n'. a lance with a Ions' shank, and a broad, triangular, flat head, sharpened at both ends. ' Barb§. Toints turned backwards in an arrow, fish hook, or other in- strument for piercing', to prevent its being extracted. 3 SO-per-in-cGm'bent. Lying over or upon. * ^£n'kr-at-ing. Producing, * Written in 1834. 158 THE FIFTH READER. 6 Jm-mMr'sion. Act of putting wholly under water or other fluid, or the state of being wholly under water ; a ducking. > Sperm Wiiale. A blunt-headed whale from which spermaceti is extracted. 7 BeAr wIde off. To keep away at a distance from any thing. 8 PdN'DjpR-ovs. Heavy. XXXVIL— THE SOLITUDE OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK. COWPER. [In 1704, Alexander Selkirk, a Scotchman, who was sailing-master of an English privateer, in consequence of a quarrel with the captain, was put ashore, at his own request, on the uninhabited island of Juan Fernandez, which lies about fourliundred miles from the coast of Chili. He was well supplied with clothing, instruments, and arms, and remained on the island in solitude over four years, when he was taken off by an English vessel. His story is sup- posed to have suggested tlie well-known romance of Robinson Crusoe. This poem expresses the sentiments Selkirk may be imagined to have felt while on his solitary island.] 1. I AM monarch of all I survey ; My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute. O Solitude ! where are the charais That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place. 2. I am out of humanity's' reach ; I must finish my journey alone; Never hear the sweet music of speech ; I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see : They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me. THE FIFTH READER. 159 3. Society, friendship, and love, Divinely bestowed upon man, O, had I the wings of a dove, How soon would I taste you again I My sorrows I then might assuage * In the ways of religion and truth; Might learn from the wisdom of age, And be cheered by the sallies^ of youth. 4. Religion ! what treasure untold Resides in that heavenly word ! More precious than silver and gold, Or all that this earth can afford. But the sound of the church-going bell These valleys and rocks never heard, Ne'er sighed at the sound of a knell *, Or smiled when a Sabbath appeared. 6. Ye winds, that have made me your spoi*t Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial", endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more : My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O, tell me I yet have a friend. Though a friend I am never to see. 6. How fleet is»a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight. The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there j But, alas ! recollection^ at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. 160 THE FIFTH READER. 7. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,. The beast is laid clown in his lair '' ; Even here is a season of rest, And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place ; And mercy, encouraging thought! Gives even affliction a grace, And reconciles man to liis lot. 1 Hv-MAir'j-Ty. The nature of man; the human race ; mankind. « A?-8UAGB' (-swaj'J. Soften; allay; moderate ; soothe. « SAl'lie?. Quick or sprigfitly exer- tions or sayings ; frolics. < KnEll. Sound of a bell rung at a funeral, or announcing a death. 5 Cord'iai., Comforting ; hearty. 6 R£c-pL-L,fic'TiON. Act of recalling to mind things once known. 1 LAiR. Bed or couch of a wild beast. XXXVIIL — THE AMERICAN INDIAN. ClIAKLES SPRAGUE. [Charles Sprague was born in Boston, October 25, 1791, and has constantly resided here. His longer poems are fervid and brilliant, and polished in their versification. He has written many charming small pieces. The following extract is taken from a fourth of July oration.] 1. N"oT many generations ago, where yon now sit, cir- cled with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind, and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your heads, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer; gazing on the same moon that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky ' mate. 2. Here the wigwam ^ blaze beamed on the tencler and helpless, the council fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy ^ lakes, and now they paddled thq light canoe along your rocky shores. Here they warred ; the echoing whoop , thG I THE FIFTH READER. 161 bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here ; and when the tiger strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. 3. Here, too, they worshipped ; and from many a dark bosom went up a pure prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables* of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of nature knew not the God of revelation, but the God of the universe he acknowledged in every thing around. 4. He beheld him in the star that sunk in beauty behind his lonely dwelling ; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his midday throne ; in the flower that snapped in the morning breeze ; in the lofty pine, that defied a thousand whirlwinds ; in the timid warbler, that never left its na- tive grove ; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in clouds ; in the worm that crawled at his feet ; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious source he bent, in humble, though blind adoration. 5. And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you ; the latter sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years havo changed the character of a great continent, and blotted forever from its face a whole peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the children of educa- tion have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. 6. Here and there a stricken few remain; but how unlike their bold, untamed, untamable progenitors®! The Indian, of falcon glance and lion bearing, the theme of the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale, is gone ! and his degraded offspring crawl upon the soil where he walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man when the foot of the conqueror is on his neck. 14* 162 THE FIFTH READER. 7. As a race, they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council-fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-ciy is fast dying to the un- trodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away ; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave, which will settle over them forever. 1 DDsK'y. Dark colored. I WIg'wAm. An Indian hut or cabin. » SEd^'v, Filled with or having sedge, a grass-like or rush-like plant. * VVh66p. a loud shout or cry. 5 Ta'ble?. Tablets j plane surfaces. Peo-(?£x\'j-t swift, never pausing till it has run itself out ; and there is the man petrified^ into a marble sleep, not feeling what it is which is passing away forever ! It is so, just so, that tlie destiny of nine men out of ten accomplishes itself, slip- ping away from them aimless, useless, till it is too late. And we are asked, with all the solemn thoughts which crowd around our approaching eternity, What has been our life, and what do we intend it shall be? 5. Yesterday, last week, last year, they are gone ! Yes- terday was such a day as never was before, and never can be again. Out of darkness and eternity it was born, a new, fresh day ; into darkness and eternity it sank again forever. It had a voice, calHng to us of its own, — its own work, its own duties. What were we doing yesterday ? Idling, whiling away the time, in light and luxurious literature ; not as life's relaxation, but as life's business ? Thrilling our hearts with the excitement of hfe, contriving how to spend the day most pleasantly? Was that our day? 6. All this is but the sleep of the three apostles. And new let us remember this : There is a day coming when the sleep will be broken rudely, — with a shock; there is a day in our future lives when our time will be counted, not by years, nor by months, nor yet by hours, but by min- utes, — the day when unmistakable symptoms* shall an- nounce that the messenger of death has come to take us. 7. That startling moment will come, which it is vain to attempt to realize now, when it will be felt that it is all over at last — that our chance and our trial are past. The moment that we have tried to think of, shrunk from, put away from us, here it is — going too, like all other mo- THE FIFTH READER. 201 ments that have gone before it ; and then with eyes unsealed* at last, we shall look back on the life which is gone by. 1 SftN-SA'TipN. Impression made up- on the mind by something- acting on the bodily organs ; feeling-. 2 iR-Rfip'A-RA-BLE. That Cannot be repaired of recovered. 3 PfiT'Ri-FiED, Changed to a stone or a stony substance, * SifMP'TQM. Sign ; token. 5 tJN-SEALED'. Without a Seal, Or hav- ing the seal broken ; open. LIV. — THE COMBAT. Sir Walter Scott. [This piece is taken from the Lady of the Lake. King James V., of Scot- land, under the assumed name of Fitz James, while alone in tlie wilds of the Highlands had come into the presence of Roderick Dhu, the chief of a rebel- lious clan, and had been hospitably entertained by him over night- In tho morning, after Fitz James had been guided by Roderick Dhu beyond the hos- tile district, the following scene occurs.] 1. The Chief in silence strode before, And reached that torrent's sounding shore, Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, From Yennachar in silver breaks. And here his course the chieftain stayed, Threw down his target and his plaid ', And to the Lowland warrior said, — 2. . « Bold Saxon M to his promise just, Vich-Alpine^ has discharged his trust. This murderous chief, this ruthless 4 man. This head of a rebellious clan, Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard : Now, man to man, and steel to steel, A chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. See here, all vantageless^ I stand, 202 THE FIFTH READER. Armed, like thyself, with single brand : For this is Coilantogle ford. And thou must keep thee with thy sword."-* d. The Saxon paused : — "I ne'er delayed When foeman bade me draw my blade ; Nay, more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death : Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, And my deep debt for life preserved, A better meed^ have well -deserved ; Can nought but blood our feud atone ? Are there no means ? " — " No, stranger, none I And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred Between the living and the dead : ' Who spills the foremost foeman's life, His party conquers in the strife.' " — 4 " Then, by my word," the Saxon said, " The riddle is already read. Seek yonder brake beneath the cliiF, — There lies Red Murdock,* stark and stiffi Tlius Fate has solved her prophecy, Then yield to Fate, and not to me. To James, at Stirling, let us go. When, if thou wilt be still his foe. Or if the King shall not agree ; To grant thee grace and favor free, I plight mine honor, oath, and word. That, to thy native strengths restored, With each advantage shalt thou stand, That aids thee now to guard thy land." * Red Murdock, a treacherous guide, had been killed by Fitz James, the pre- ceding day. THE FIFTH EEADER. 203 Dark lightning flash'd from Roderick's eye — " Soars thy presumption, then, so high, Because a wretched kern^ ye slew, Homage to name to Roderick Dhu** ? He yields not, he, to man nor Fate I Thou add'st but fuel to my hate : M}r clansman's blood demands revenge. Not yet prepared ! By Heaven, I change ' My thought, and hold thy valor light As that of some vain carpet-knight', Who ill deserved my courteous care, And whose best boast is but to wear A braid of his fau- lady's hah-." " I thank thee, Roderick, for the word I It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; For I have sworn this braid to stain In the best blood that warms thy vein. Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth *", begone I Yet think not that by thee alone. Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown ; Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn", Start at my whistle clansmen stern, Of this small horn one feeble blast Would fearful odds against thee cast. But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt^ We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." Then each at once his falchion ^^ drew, Each on the ground his scabbard threw, Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, As what they ne'er might see again ; Then foot, and point, and eye opposed. In dubious strife they darkly closed. 204 THE FIFTH READER. 8. Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, That on the field his targe he threw, Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide Had death so often dashed aside ; For, trained abroad his arras to wield, Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. He practised every pass and Avard, To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; While less expert, though stronger far, The GaeP' maintained unequal war. 9. Three times in closing strife they stood, And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; No stinted draught, no scanty tide. The gushing flood the tartans^* dyed. Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain. And shower'd his blows like wintry rain; And, as firm rock, or castle roof. Against the winter-shower is proof, The foe, invulnerable still, Foiled his wild rage by steady skill ; Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, And, backward borne upon the lea. Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. 10, "Now, yield ye, or, by Him who made The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade I ' " Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! Let recreant yield, who fears to die." — Like adder darting from his coil. Like wolf that dashes through the toil'*, Like mountain-cat who guards her young, Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung ; THE FIFTH READER. 205 Received, but recked not of a wound, And locked his arms his foeman round. — 11. Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! That desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through bars of brass and triple steel! — They tug, they strain ! down, down they go, The Gael above, Fitz-James below. The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed ; His knee was planted in his breast ; His clotted locks he backward threw, Across his brow his hand he drew. From blood and mist to clear his sight, Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! 12. But hate and fury ill supplied The stream of life's exhausted tide ! And all too late the advantage came, To turn the odds of deadly game ; For, while the dagger gleamed on high. Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye Down came the blow ! but in the heath The erring blade found bloodless sheath. The struggling foe may now unclasp The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; Unwounded from the dreadful close, But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 1 PlXid (Scottish pronunciation plad). A striped or checkered cloth worn by the Highlanders of Scotland, and indicating by the variety of its patterns the different Scottish clans. « SXx'QN. The Scottish Highlander calls himself Gael, and the Low- landers Saxons. » Vijeu-AL'PlNE (vek-ai'pSn). A name 18 given to Roderick Dhu as head of the clan, and meaning descendant of Alpine. ROth'less. Cruel ; pitiless. VXn'ta(?e-less. Without any ad- vantage. Meed. Reward ; recompense. Kern. A vagrant ; a boor ; a per. son of no consequence. Dhu. An epithet meaning Itlach. 206 THE FIFTH READER. » CXr PET knIght. a knight made at court for other than military services, — used as a term of re- proach. w ROth. Mercy; pity. 11 CAiRN (kirn). A heap of stones. 12 FAl'chiON (ai'shyn). Sword. 18 Gael (gal). A Highlander. 1* TAR'TAN. A kind of cloth check eredwith threads of various colors. 15 TbiL. A net or snare to catch wild LV. — LESSONS OF SPRING. Greenwood. [Francis WilUam Pitt Greenwood was born in Boston, February 5, 1797, and dAed August 2, 1843. He was the pastor of a church in Boston. His writings are marked by a beautiful clearness and simplicity of style, and a fervent, de- \rotional spirit.] 1. Let us contemplate, for a few moments, the animated scene which is presented by our Spring. The earth, loos- ened by the victorious sun, springs from the hard dominion of winter's frost, and, no longer offering a bound-up, repulsive surface to the husbandman, invites his cultiva- ting labors. The streams are released from their icy fetters, and spring forward on their unobstructed way, full of sparkling waters, which sing and rejoice as they run on. 2. " The trees of the Lord are full of sap," which now springs up into their before shrunken and empty vessels, causing the buds to swell, and the yet unclothed branches and twigs to lose their rigid appearance, and assume a fresher hue and a more rounded form. Beneath them, and in every warm and sheltered spot, the wild plants are springing. 3. Some of these are just pushing up their tender, crisp, and yet vigorous sprouts, thrusting aside the dead leaves with their folded heads, and finding their sure way out mto the light ; while others have sent forth their delicate xbliage, and hung out their buds on slender stems; and THE FIFTH EEADER. 207 others still have unfolded their flowers, which look up into the air unsuspectingly and gayly, like innocence upon an untried world. The grass is springing for the scythe, and the gi'ain for the sickle ; for they grow by commandment, for the service of man, and death is every where the fate and issue of life. 4. But it is not only senseless things which are thus visibly springing at this their appointed season. The various tribes of animated nature show that it is spring also with them. The birds rise up on elastic wing, and make a joyous music for the growing plants to spring to. Animals, that have lain torpid through the benumbing winter, spring up from their secret beds and dormitories ', and resume their habits of activity once more. 5. Innumerable insects spring up from the cells which they had formed beyond the reach of frost, and in new attire commence their winged existence. The hum of happy life is heard from myriads'^ of little creatures, who, born in the morning, will die ere night. In that short term, however, they will have accomplished the purposes of their living ; and, if brought to this test, there are many human lives which are shorter and vainer than theirs ; and what is any life, when past, but a day ! 6. Let us go abroad amidst this general springing of the earth and nature, and we shall see and feel that God's blessing is there. The joy of recovery, the gladness of escape, the buoyancy of youth, the exultation of com- mencing or renewed existence, — these are the happiness and blessing which are given from above, and the praise and the hymn which ascend from beneath. 7. Another and a milder order of things seems to be beginning. The gales, though not the warm breathings of summer, flow to us as if they came from some distant summer clime, and were cooled and moderated on their way; while, at no distant intervals, the skies, in their 208 THE FIFTH READER. genial ministry, baptize the oifspring of earth with their softest and holiest showers. " Thou visitest the earth and waterest it; thou makest it soft with showers; thou blessest the springing thereof." 8. Surely we cannot stand still in such a scene, and, when every thing else is springing, let it be winter in our souls. Let us rather open our hearts to the renovating influences of heaven, and sympathize " with universal nature. If our love to God has been chilled by any of the wintry aspects of the world, it is time that it should be resusci- tated ^ and that it should spring up in ardent adoration to the Source of light and life. 9. It is time that our gratitude should be waked from its sleep, and our devotion aroused, and that all our pious aflections, shaking off their toi-por, should come out into the beams of God's presence, and receive new powers from their invigorating warmth. It is time, too, that our social charities, if any " killing frost " has visited them, should be cured of their numbness and apathy *, and go forth among the children and brethren of the great family, and feel, as they rise and move, that the blessing of the Almighty Father is upon their springing. 1 Dor'mI-T9-rie§. Sleeping places. 2 M5r'j-ad. An immense number. 8 R]? sOs'ci-TAT-ED. Restored to life fh)m Beeming death j revived. 4 S^m'pa-thIze. Feel as another Ifeels 5 have a common feeling'. 6 Ap'a-thv. Want of feeling ; insen- sibility } indifference. LVL — BIRDS. Knickerbocker Magazine. 1. We love birds. When the first soft days of spring come in all their gentle sweetness, and woo us with their warmth, and soothe us with their smile, then come the birds. With us they, too, rejoice that winter's reign THE FIFTH READER. 209 (and snow) is ended. No one of the seasons that come to " rule the varied year," abdicates ' his throne more to his subjects' joy than Winter. While he rules, we lose all respect for the mercury'' in our thermometer'. When we remember how high it stood in our estimation only a few short months ago, we did not think that it could get BO low. We resolve to have nothing more to do with it ; for " there is a point beyond which forbearance ceases to be a virtue," and we conceive that point to be thirty-two degrees above zero* at the very least. 2. How pleasant are the early hours of a day in spring ! The air is laden with the perfect perfume of a thousand flowers, and leaves, and buds. And then, besides the pleasure of seeing jocund* day go through that difficult gymnastic feat, described by Shakspeare, of standing " tip- toe on the misty mountain tops," we have a glorious morn- ing concert, to which we have a season ticket ; for •* Innumerous songsters in the freshening shade Of new-sprung leaves their modulations Hiix Mellifluous." 3. Such music! It seems the pure outpouring of the greatest gratitude to Him who made the morn so beautiful, so full of joy and light. It is the expression of most per- fect praise, in ecstasy of song. Yes, indeed, we love birds ! 4. There is a deal of pleasure as well as profit to be derived from studying the habits and the character of birds. Nor is the study burdensome. Of all the lower orders of creation, as they frequent most freely the haunts and homes of men, so they approach us nearest in intelligence. They have their labors and amusements, their conjugal relations, and, like us, they build with taste and skill their houses ; they have society, moreover, and the opera ^. In very many things they are our equals, in some, our superiors j and what in other 18* 210 THE FIFTH READER. ftnimals at best is only instinct, in birds is almost reason. 5. Among the iBrst returning tourists' from the south, In spring, are these pleasant little people, the bluebird, martin, and wren. They have particular confidence in man. Nor is their confidence misplaced ; for every body hails with joy these harbingers ^ of spring. Their com- pany is peculiarly agi*eeable, and they seem to know it ; for every year they come again to occupy the boxes, or perchance old hats, which were put up for them, and in them they build their nests, and there they live rent free ; yet not exactly so, for they pay us with their notes. 6. Sometimes these little people have a deal of difliculty amonc: themselves about these habitations. The martins come, and find the bluebirds have taken all these places, and there is a disturbance directly. After some considerable scolding, and twitting on facts, the martins take possession of a certain portion of the pigeon-cote, and keep it too, — for not a pigeon dare go near them, — while the smaller wrens content themselves with some spare corner of the portico, where they forthwith proceed to build their houses, with all the architectural skill derived from their great namesake, the builder of St. Paul's.* There is a spice of waggish mischief about the wren somewhat amusing. 7. Often when the bluebird has left his house, and gone to market or down town, the wren peeps in, and, finding no one there, proceeds to amuse himself by pulling out the straws and feathers in the nest ; but should perchance the bluebird come in sight, the wren remembers that there is something very interesting going on around the corner of the bam, that demands his immediate attention. 8. These birds — the bluebird, martin, and the wren, together with the swallows (bam and chimney), and " honest robin," who, as quaint old Walton has it, " loves ♦ Tbe architect of St. Paul's, in London, was Sir Christopher Wren. THE FIFTH READER, 211 mankind, both alive and dead" — are half domesticated* They love to live near man. The bluebird and the robin are the only two among them who appear to have paid much attention to the cultivation of their vocal powers. They salute the morning with sweet songs. The wren and other small birds are in the garden, breakfasting on worms, or, as we sometimes express it, "getting their grub." 9. The martin, meanwhile, listens to the concert, as a critic, or as one of the audience;'" for he sits up in his pri- vate box, now and then uttering an approving note, as if of applause. Indeed, the martin is not very musical. Sometimes, in the bosom of his family, when he feels very social, he takes up his pipe, and then essays a song. But he never gets beyond the first few notes of " Hi Betty Martin," and then goes off on tiptoe. 1 Ab'dj-cate. Relinquish as an office or station ; give up ; surrender. a Wer'cv-RV. a metal which is fluid at commou temperatures ; quick- silver. 8 Tuer-mom'e-ter. An instrument for measuring degrees of heat. 4 Ze'ro. The figure naught ; here, the point at which the numbering of the degrees on a thermometer com- mences. Zero, in the common thermometer, is thirty-two degreeg below the freezing point of water. sjoc'VND. Merry; gay; joyous. 6 Op'?-ra. a musical drama. 7 TouR'jsT. One who makes a tour or journey. 8 IiAR'BjN-9ER. A forerunner ; a her- ald. 9 Dq-mEs'ti-cat-ed. Tamed; living under tlie care of man. 10 Au'dj-£nce. Assembly of hearers. LYIL— BIRDS, CONCLUDED. 1. But here we have a jolly little fellow, who makes up in sociability what he lacks in song. The small house- sparrow or, as he is generally known, the "chippin' bird," comes to our very doors. lie hops along the piazza, gath- ering "crumbs of comfort" and of bread, and knows that not a soul within the house^ not even that "unfeeling schoolboy," would harm a feather of his tail. He keops a 212 THE FIFTH READER. careful eye, however, on the cat ; for he is perfectly aware that she would consider him only a swallow, and he does not like to lose his identity. 2. There is in history a single instance where this bird seems to have forgotten his character, and to have been a destroyer, rather than, as he is called by boys, a " sparer." Every juvenile ' of five years, who is at all read in the litera- ture of his »ge, knows the tragic story of the death and burial of cock robin. That interesting individual was found one morning lying on the ground, with a murderous weapon through his heart. The horror-stricken birds assembled. A coroner's inquest was holden. The first inquiry was, of course, " Who killed cock robin ? " There was a momen- tary silence ; and then the sparrow, the last one in the crowd, perhaps, to be suspected, confessed the deed. He then proceeds to state how it was done, and owns he "did it with his bow and arrow." 3. "Caw! caw! caw!" The watchword and the sig- nal of alarm or caution among crows ; or else it is the "dreadful note of preparation" summoning the lawless legions' from the depths of the pine woods, from yonder hill, from far-off forests, to come and help pull up a field of com, just beginning to put forth its tender blades. " All these and more come flocking," for there's no one around ; the scarecrow was blown down last night ; the gun is lent ; the boys have gone to school; the farmer tumbled ofi" the hay-mow yesterday and broke his leg : and so the crows proceed with the destruction, " unmoved With dread of death, to flight, or foul retreat." 4. The crow and blackbird both are an*ant^ rogues. The last, indeed, renders somewhat of service in the early part of spring; for, following the furrows of the field, de- vouring countless worms and grubs, which would be most THE FIFTH READER. 213 destructive to tlie coming crop of corn, all day long he gleans behind the plough, a perfect little Ruth. But when the corn comes, he devotes himself to its destruction with a perfect ruthlessness '', and fills his own crop with the farmer's in a very short time. 5. Perchance, should any one appear on the premises, he gets upon the fence, and whistles very unconcernedly, just as if he hadn't been doing any thing. As for that bean pole, standing in the centre of the field, dressed in old clothes, and bearing some faint resemblance to a re- turned Californian, — ha! ha! ha! What fools men are to think that they can cheat the blackbird! Why, there are five of them at this moment pulling corn for dear life, to see who shall get through his row the first, who were born, bred, and educated in the very hat of that identical old scarecrow. To be sure, when it was first set up, the birds eyed it with curiosity, perhaps mistrust, but it never entered their heads that it was intended to resemble a man ; or if it did, it soon became a standing joke with them. 6. Every farmer hates the crow, and we must acknowl- edge he is not a very lovable bird. He has neither beauty nor song; for his eternal caw! caw! is a note renewed so often as to be at a decided discount. Nor has he civil- ity of manners ; and his ideas concerning private property are extremely vague*. Yet of all the bird tribe, he is far the most intelligent. Nor is he a hypocrite®. There he is, on that old tree by the road side, clothed in a sable suit, and, as you go by, looks demure^, interesting, and melan- choly. But should there be a gun in the bottom of the wagon, though it is covered carefully with a bundle of straw, a blanket over that, and a large fiit boy sitting on top of all, he knows it is there, and, trusty sentinel, alarms the whole community^ of crows in the region round about ; and away they wing, " over the hills and far away." Caw ! 214 THE FIFTH READER. caw! caw! You didn't catch him that time. He is very well aware that you intend to kill him — if you can. He just wants to see you try it — that's all. 1 Jfi'vE-NfLi:. A young person. 2 Le'^iqn (le'jun). A large body of soldiers ; a great number. » Au'RANT. Very bad ; notorious in a bad sense. * RtiTH-LESS-Nfiss. Want of pity ; cruelty ; bard-heartedness. o Vague (vag). Unfixed ; unsettled. HS'p'q-ckIte. One wlio pretends to be what he is not ; a dissembler. 7 De-.mOre'. Modest and pensive. 8 CpM-MU'Nj Ty. A society of individ- uals having common rights andia- terests. LVIIL — AFTER MARRIAGE. Sheridan. [Eichard Brinslcy Sheridan, a celebrated orator and dramatic writer, was bom iq Dublin, Ireland, in 1751, and died in 1816. His principal plays are " The Rivals," " The Duenna," " The School for Scandal," and " The Critic." They are all marked by brilliant wit and pointed dialogue, and " The School for Scandal " is perhaps the most finished comedy in the language. He was a very eflective speaker in Parliament. Thei^ was little that was estimable or respectable in Sheridan's character. TleWjis always in a state of pecuniary embarrassment, and in his Inter years too often sought oblivion in that fatal source of allevia- tion, the bottle. The following scene is from «' The School for Scandal."] Lady Teazle and Sib Peter. Sir Peter. Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I'll not bear it ! Lady Teazle. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please ; but I ought to have my own way in every tiling ; and what's more, I will too. j What ! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married. Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well — so a husband is to have no influence, no authority ? Lady T. Authority! No, to be sure: — if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, an(^ not married me ; I am sure you were old enough. THE FIFTH READER. 215 Sir P, Old enough! — ay — there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I'll not be ruined by your extravagance. JLady T. My extravagance ! I'm • sure I'm not more extravagant than a woman ought to be. Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. Indeed ! to spend aa much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in wintei as would suffice to turn the Pantheon * into a green-house \ Lady T. Why, Sir Peter! am I to blame, because flowers are dear in cold weather ? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I'm sure, I wish it were spring all the year round, and that roses grew tinder our feet ! Sir P. Zounds! madam — if you had been born to this, I shouldn't wonder at your talking thus; but you forget what your situation was when I married you. Lady T. No, no, I don't; 'twas a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you. Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style, — the daughter of a plain country squira Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first sitting at your tambour \ in a pretty figured lineh gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruitfi in worsted of your own working. Ljady T. O, yes ! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led, — my daily occupation to inspect the dairy, superintend' the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap-dog. Sir P, Yes, yes, ma'am, 'twas so, indeed. Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amuse- ments; — to draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not * P^N-THE'Qsr. A temple dedicated to all the gods. The Pantheon at Rome, now comparatively in ruins, is one of the most splendid remains of the ancien**. 216 THE FIFTH READER. materials to make up ; to play Pope Joan^ with the curate; to read a novel to my aunt ; or to be stuck down to an old spinet* to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase. /S'tV JP. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, madam, these were the recreations I took you from; but now you must have your coach — vis-a-vis^ — and three powdered footmen before your chair; and, in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were con- tent to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach- horse. Xady T. No — I never did that : I deny the butler and the coach-horse. Sir P. This, madam, was your situation ; and what have I done for you? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank ; in short, I have made you my wife. Lady T, Well, then ; and there is but one thing more you can make me, to ^dd to the obligation, and that is — Sir P. My widoljgjf'pappose ? Lady T, Hem ! h^ T Sir P. I thank you, madam ; but don't flatter yourself; for though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you : however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint. Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make your- self so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense ? Sir P. Indeed, madam, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me ? Jjady T. Why, Sir Peter ! would you have me be out of the fashion ? Sir P. The fashion, indeed ! What had you to do with the fashion before you married me ? Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste. THE FIFTH READER. 217 Sir jP, Ay ; there again — taste. Zounds ! madam, you had no taste when you married me ! JLadi/ T. That's very true indeed, Sir Peter; and after having married you, I sliould never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now. Sir Peter, since we have finished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my engagement at Lady Sneerwell's. Sir P. Ay, there's another precious circumstance — a charming set of acquaintance you have made there. Ijady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious® of reputation. Sir P. Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance; for they don't choose any body should have a character but themselves! — Such a crew H Ah! many a wretch has rid on a hurdle' who has-dene less mischief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scandal, and clippers of reputation. Lady T. What ! would you restrain the freedom of speech ? Sir P. Ah! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society. Zady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a toler- able grace. Sir P. Grace, indeed ! Lady T. But I vow I bear no malice against the people I abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 'tis out of pure good-humor ; and I take it for granted, they deal exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too. Sir P. Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my ow^n character. Lady T. Then indeed you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. So, good-by to you. [Exit lady teazle. Sir P. So — I have gained miich by my intended expostulation^: yet, with what a charming air slie contra- 19 218 THE FIFTH READER. diets every thing I say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my authority ! Well, though I can't make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrelling with her ; and I think she never appears to such advantage, as when she is doing every thing in her power to plague me. [Exit. 1 TAm'bour. a frame on which cloth is stretched for convenience of em- broidering. « Su-p?r-in-t£nd'. Have the care or direction of; overlook. 8 Pope Joan (-j5n). A game at cards. 4 SpIn'^t. a stringed musical instru- ment of the harp kind, formerif much in use. » VIs'a-vIs (vlz'a-v2). Face to face ; here, a carriage for two persons who sit opposite to each other. TE-NA'cioys (-shus). Holding fast; retentive. 7 HUr'dle. a sort of sledge on which criminals were drawn to execution. 8 ipx-POST'v-LA-TiON. Earnest re- monstrance ; act of reasoning ear- nestly with a person, on some im- propriety of conduct. LIX. — THE PASSAGE. UlILAND. y [Johann Ludwig Uhland was born in TUbingen, April 2f>, 1787, and died No- YPmber 13, ISCrZ. Among the recent poeta ol" Germany he holds a very high place. He wrote dramas, ballads, odes, and lyrical pieces. IJiit few of his poftms have been translated into English, and these have a dreamy and spiiltual beauty, and much tenderness of feeling.] 1. Many a year is in its grave Since I crossed this restless wave ; And the evening, fair as ever, Shines on ruin, rock, and river. 2. Then in this same boat beside Sat two comrades old and tried j One with all a father's truth, One with all the fire of youth. One on earth in silence wrought \ And his grave in silence sought ; THE FIFTH READER. 219 But the younger, brighter form Passed '^ in battle and in storm. 4. So, whene'er I turn my eye Back upon the days gone by, Maddening thoughts of friends come o'er me — Friends who closed their course before me. 5. But what binds us, friend to friend, But that soul with soul can blend ? Soul-Uke were those days of yore — Let us walk in soul once more. 6. Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee ; Take, I give it willingly ; For, invisible to thee. Spirits twain have crossed with me. » Vl^RouGHT (riwt). Worked. | 2 PAssed. Departed from life. LX. — BINGEN ON THE RHINE. Mrs. Caroline Norton. [This poem was written by Mrs. Caroline Norton, nn English lady, grand daughter of the celebrated R. B. Sheridan. Bingen is a beautiful town on the left bank of the Khine, in Germany.] 1. A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away, And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say : The dying soldier faltered, and he took that comrade's hand, And he said, ••! never more shall see my own, my native land : Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine* For 1 was born at Bingen,* — at Bingen on the Rhine. * Pronounced Blng'^u. ,220 . THE FIFTH READER. 2. «' Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard * ground, That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done, Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun ; And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars, — The death- wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars ; And some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, — And one had come from Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Ehine. 3. ♦' Tell my mother, that her other son shall comfort her old age ; For 1 was still ' a truant bird, that thought his home a cage. For my father was a soldier, and even as a child My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard ', I let them take whate'er they would, — but kept my father's sword ; And with boyish love I himg it where the bright light used to shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen, — qalm Bingen on the Rhine. 4. •• Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallanttread ; But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die : And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name, To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine), For the honor of old Bingen, — dear Bingen on the Rhine. 5. " There's another — not a sister ; in the happy days gone by ; You'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye ; Too innocent for co'quetry *, — too fond for idle scorning, — C), friend ! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning ! Tell her the last night of my life, — (for ere the moon be risen, !My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), — I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine Oa the vine-clad hills of Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Rhine. 6. " I saw the blue Rhine sweep along, — 1 heard, or seemed to hear. The German songs we used to sing, in chorus Bweet and clear ; THE FIFTH READER. 2^1 And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ; And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and well- remembered walk ! And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine, — But we'll meet no more at Bingen, — loved Bingcn on the Ilhine." 7. His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, — his grasp was childish weak, — His eyes put on a dying look, — he sighed and ceased to speak ; His comrade beiit to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, — The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead ! And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corses strewn ; Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen, — fair Bingen on the Ilhine. 1 vine' YARD. An enclosure for grape- vines. 2 StIll. Always ; ever. H6ARD. A store laid up ; a treasure. 4 Cp qu£t'ky (here pronounced co'- quet-ry). The character and prac tice of a coquette ; deceit or trifling iu love ; flirtatiou. LXL — THE VOICE OF THE WAVES.* Mrs. Hemans. 1. " Answer, ye chiming ' waves, That now in sunshine sweep ; Speak to me from thy hidden caves, Voice of the solemn deep ! 2. "Hath man's lone spirit here With storms in battle striven ? Where all is now so calmly clear, Hath anguish cried to Heaven ? " 3. .Then the sea's voice arose. Like an earthquake's under-tone, — * Written near the scene of a recent shipwreck. 19* 222 THE FIFTH READER. « Mortal, the strife of human woes Where hath not nature known ? 4. " Here to the quivering mast Despair hath wildly clung ; The shriek upon the wind hath past, The midnight sky hath rung. ^ 5. " And the youthful and the brave With their beauty and renown, To the hollow chambers of the wave In darkness have gone down. 6. " They are vanished from their place, — Let their homes and hearths make moan J But the rolling waters keep no trace Of pang or conflict gone." 7. " Alas ! thou haughty deep ! The strong, the sounding-far! My heart before thee dies, — I weep To think on what we are ! 8. " To think that so we pass, High hope, and thought, and mind, E'en as the breath-stain from the glass, Leaving no sign behind ! 9. " Saw'st thou nought else, thou main, Thou and the midnight sky, — Nought, save the struggle, brief and vain, The parting agony ? " 10. And the sea's voice replied, — " Here nobler things have been I Power with the valiant * when they died, To sanctify'' the scene ; THE FIFTH READER. 223 11. Courage, in fragile'' form, Faith, trusting to the last. Prayer, breathing heavenward through the storai,- But all alike have passed." 12. " Sound on, thou haughty sea ! These have not passed in vain ; My soul awakes, my hope springs free On victor wings again. 13. " Thou from thine empire driven, May'st vanish with thy powers; But, by the hearts that here have striven, A loftier doom is ours ! " I ChIm'jng. Sounding' in harmony. I VAl'iant (vSLl'ygnt). Intrepid in duuger; heroic; brave. 3 SXNC'Ti-Fy. Tomakeholyoffiacred J to consecrate. * FrX^'jle. Frail j easily brokea LXII. — CONTRAST BETWEEN ADAMS AND NAPOLEON. Seward. [William Henry Seward was born in Florida, New York, May lv{, 1801. He was g-raduated at Union College, in 1819, and admitted to the bar in 1822. He was chosen governor of New York by the whigs, and reelected in 1846. In February, 1849, he was chosen to the Senate of the United States, and continued a member of that body till the election of President Lincoln, when he became a member of his cabinet as Secretary of State. He is a man of patient and per- severing industry, and his speeches, which are always carefully prepared, are marked by great literary merit. The following extract is from a eutogy on John Quincy Adams, delivered before the legislature of New York, February 23, 1848.] 1. Only two years after the birth of John Quincy Ad- ams, there appeared on an island in the Mediterranean Sea, a human spirit, newly born, endowed with equal genius, without the regulating qualities of justice and benevolence 224 THE FIFTH READER. which Adams possessed in so eminent a degree. A like career opened to both. Born like Adams, a subject of a king, — the child of more genial skies, like him, became, in early life, a patriot, and a citizen of a new and great Kepublic. Like Adams, he lent his service to the state in precocious ' youth, and in its hour of need, and won its confidence. But, unlike Adams, he could not wait the dulUdelays of slow and laborious, but sure advancement. He sought power by the hasty road that leads through fields of carnage; and he became, like Adams, a supreme magistrate, a consul '. 2. But there were other consuls. He was not content. He thrust them aside, and was consul alone. Consular power was too short. He fought new battles, and was consul for life.- But power, confessedly derived from the people, must be Exercised in obedience to their will, and must be resigned to them again, at least in death. He was not content. He desolated Europe afresh, subverted the Republic, imprisoned the patriarch ^ who presided over Home's comprehensive see*, and obliged him to pour on his head the sacred oil that made the persons of kings divine, and their right to reign indefeasible." He was an Emperor. 3. But he saw around him a mother, brothers, and sisters, not ennobled, whose humble state reminded him and the world that he was born a plebeian^ ; and he had no heir to wait impatient for the imperial crown. He scourged the earth again ; and again Fortune smiled on him, even in his wild extravagance. He bestowed kingdoms and prin- cipalities on his kindred ; put away the devoted wife of jiis youthful days, and another, a daughter of Hapsburg's imperial house, joyfully accepted his proud alliance. Off- spring gladdened his anxious sight ; a diadem was placed on its infant brow, and it received the homage of princes, even in its cradle. Now he was indeed a monarch, — a legitimate monarch — a monarch by divine appointment, 1 THE FIFTH READER. 225 . — the first of an endless succession of monarchs. But there were other monarchs who held sway on the earth. He was not content. He would reign wich his kindred alone. 4. He gathered new and greater armies from his own land, — from subjugated lands. He called forth the young and brave, — one from every household, — from the Pyrenees * to the Zuyder Zee t, — fi'oni Jura J to the ocean. 'He mar- shalled them into long and majestic columns, and went forth to seize that universal dominion which seemed almost within his grasp. 5. But Ambition had tempted Fortune too far. The na- tions of the earth resisted, repelled, pursued, surrounded him. The pageant was ended. Th6 crown fell from his presumptuous head. The wife who had wedded him in his pride, forsook him in the hour when fear came upon him. His child was ravished'' from his sight. His kinsmen were degraded to their first estate**; and he Avas no longer emperor, nor consul, nor general, nor even a citizen, but an exile and a prisoner, on a lonely island, in the midst of the wild Atlantic. 6. Discontent attended him there. The wa}nvard man fretted out a few long years of his yet unbroken manhood, looking ofiT at the earliest dawn, and in evening's latest twilight, towards that distant world that had only just elud- ed his grasp. His heart became corroded.* Death came, not unlooked for; though it came even then unwelcome. He was stretched on his bed within the fort which consti- tuted his prison. A few fast and faithful friends stood around, with the guards who rejoiced that the hour of re- Hef from long and wearisome watching was at hand. 7. As his strength wasted away, delirium stiiTed up the * P?r'e-nee§. a range of mountains between France and Spain. t Zuy'deu Zee. A large body of water in Holland. i JC'ra. a range of mountains between France and Switzerland. THE FIFTH READER. brain fi-oni its long and inglorious inactivity. The pageant of Ambition returned. He was again a lieuten ant, a colonel, a general, an emperor of France. He filled again the throne of Charlemagne.* His kindred j^ressed around him, again invested with the pompous pageantry of royalty. The daughter of the long line of kings again stood proudly by his side, and the sunny face of his child shone out from beneath the diadem that encircled its flowing locks. 8. The Marshals '° of the Empire awaited his command. The legions of the Old Guard f were in the field ; their scarred faces rejuvenated", and their ranks, thinned in many battles, replenished. Russia, Prussia, Austria, Den- mark, and England gathered their mighty hosts to give him battle. Once more he mounted his impatient charger, and rushed forth to conquest. He waved his sword aloft, and cried, "-The cVArmee! "*" The feverish vision broke, — the mockery was ended. The silver cord was loosed, and the warrior fell back upon his bed a lifeless corpse ! This was the end op earth. The Corsican was not CONTENT. Statesmen and Citizens! own impressive moral. The contrast suggests its t Pre-co'ciovs. Ripe or mature be- fore the natural time. « CSn'sDl.. One of the three chief magistrates of France from 1799 to 1804. » PA'TRi ARjEii. The father or head of a family among the ancient Israel- ites ; here, applied to the Pope, the highest dignitary of the church. * S£e. The jurisdiction of a bishop ; the office or authority of the Pope. 6 In-de-fea'§ible. Incapable of be- ing defeated or made void. « Ple-be'ian. One of the common people or lower order of citizens. t RAv'fSHED. Taken away by vio- lence. 8 Es TATE'. Condition in life ; state ; property ; fortune. 9 Cor rod'ed. Eaten away; con- sumed. 10 MXr'sHvJlL. In France, the highest military officer. " Re-jO've-nAt-?d. Made young again. 13 Tetk d'' ARMkE. (tat-d'lr-ma')* French words, meaning " head of the army." They were said to have been spoken by Napoleon Bonaparte in his last moments. * Charl,emagne (shsir'le-man), or Charles the Great, a famous king of France, who ruled over the greater part of Europe in the eighth century. t Old Guard. A select body of troops that bore a distinguished part in the Campaigns of Napoleon. THE FIFTH READER. 227 LXIII — SALADIN AND MALEK ADHEL. New Monthly Magazine. Attendant. A stranger craves admission to your HighnessL SalacUn. Whence comes he ? Att. That I know not. Enveloped in a vestment of strange form, His countenance is hidden, but his step, His lofty port, his voice, in vain disguised. Proclaim — if that I dared pronounce it — Sal Whom? Att. Thy royal brother. Sal. Bring him instantly. fExit attendant. Kow with his specious', smooth, persuasive tongue, Fraught with some wily subterfuge 2, he thinks To dissipate my anger — he shall die. [Enter Attendant and 3Ialek: Adiiel.] " Sal. Leave us together. [Exit attendant.] [Aside.] I should know that form. Now summon all thy fortitude, my soul ; Nor, though thy blood cry for him, spare the guilty. [Aloud.] Well, stranger, speak ; but first unveil thyself For Saladin must view the form that fronts him. Malek Adhel. Behold it, then ! Sal. I see a traitor's visage. 3Ial. Ad. A brother's. Sal. No — Saladin owns no kindred with a villain. Mai. Ad. O, patience. Heaven ! Had any tongue but thine Uttered that word, it ne'er should speak another. Sal. And why not now ? Can this heart be more pierced By Malek Adhel's sword than by his deeds ? O, thou hast made a desert of this bosom I For open candor, planted sly disguise ; For confidence, suspicion ; and the glow 228 THE FIFTH .READER. Of generous friendship, tenderness and love, Forever banished. Whither can I turn, When he, by blood, by gratitude, by faith. By every tie, bound to support, forsakes me ? Who, who can stand, when Malek Adhel falls ? Henceforth I turn rae from the sweets of love. The smiles of friendship ; and this glorious world, In which all find some heart to rest upon, Shall be to Saladin a cheerless void : His brother has betrayed him ! Mai Ad. Thou art softened ; I am thy brother, then; but late thou saidst — My tongue can never utter the base title. Sal. Was it traitor ? True — Thou hast betrayed me in my fondest hopes. Villain ? 'Ti_s just ; the title is appropriate. Dissembler ^ ? 'Tis not written in thy face ; No, nor imprinted on that specious brow. But on this breaking heart the name is stamped, Forever stamped, with that of Malek Adhel. Thinkest thou I'm softened ? By Mohammed, these hands Should crush these aching eyeballs, ere a tear Fall from them at thy fate ! — O monster, monster I The brute that tears the infant from its nurse Is excellent to thee, for in his form The impulse of his nature may be read ; — But thou, so beautiful, so proud, so noble, O, what a wretcli art thou ! O, can a term In all the various tongues of man be found To match thy infamy ? Mai. Ad. Go on, go on ; 'Tis but a little while to hear thee, Saladin, And, bursting at thy feet, this heart will prove Its penitence at least. JSal, That were an end THE FIFTH READER. 229 Too noble for a traitor; the bowstring" is A more appropriate finish — thou shalt die! 3IalAd. And death were welcome at another's mandate What, what have I to live for ? Be it so, If that in all thy armies can be found An executing hand. Sal. O, doubt it not ! They're eager for the office. Perfidy, So black as thine, effaces from their minds All memory of thy former excellence. 3Ial. Ad. Defer not then their wishes. Saladin, If e'er this form was joyful to thy sight. This voice seemed grateful to thine ear, accede To my last prayer — O, lengthen not this scene, To which the agonies of death were jjleasing — Let me die speedily. Sal. This very hour ! [Aside.] For — oh ! the more I look upon that face, The more I hear the accents of that voice, The monarch softens, and the judge is lost In all the brother's weakness ; yet such guilt, Such vile ingratitude ! it calls for vengeance, And vengeance it shall have ! What, ho ! who waits there? [Enter Attendant.] Att. Did your Highness call ? Sal. Assemble quickly My forces in the court ! — tell them they come To view the death of yonder bosom-traitor; And bid them mark, that he who wiH not spare His brother when he errs, expects obedience. Silent obedience, from his followers. [Exit Attendani 3Ial. Ad. Now, Saladin, The word is given — I have nothing more To fear from thee, my brother. — I am not About to crave a miserable life — 20 280 THE FIFTH READER. Without thy love, thy honor, thy esteem, Life were a burden to me. Think not, either, The justice of thy sentence I would question : But one request now trembles on my tongue. One wish still clinging round the heart, which soon Not even that shall torture. — Will it then, Thinkest thou, thy slumbers render quieter, Thy waking thoughts more pleasing, to reflect. That when thy voice had doomed a brother's death, The last request which e'er was his to utter. Thy harshness made him carry to the grave ? /Sal. Speak, then ; but ask thyself if thou hast reason To look for much indurgence here. Mai. Ad. I have not ! Yet will I ask for it. We part forever ; This is our last farewell ; the king is satisfied ; The judge has spoken the irrevocable* sentence; None sees, none hears, save that Omniscient Power, Which, trust me, will not frown to look upon Two brothers part like such. When in the face Of forces once my own, I'm led to death. Then be thine eye unmoistened ; let thy voice Then speak my doom untrembling ; then. Unmoved, behold this stiff and blackened corse. But now I ask, — nay, turn not, Saladin, — I ask one single pressure of thy hand. From that stern eye one solitary tear — O, torturing recollection ! one kind word From the loved tongue which once breathed nought but kindness. Still silent ? Brother, — friend, beloved companion Of all my youthful sports, — are they forgotten ? Strike me with deafness, make me blind, O Heaven I Let me not see this unforgiving man Smile at my agonies, nor hear that voice THE FIFTH READER. 231 Pronounce my doom, which would not say one word, One little word, whose cherished memory Would soothe the struggles of departing life. — Yet, yet thou wilt — O, turn thee, Saladin ! Look on my face ; thou canst not spurn me then : Look on the once-loved face of Malek Adhel For the last time, and call him — Sal. [Seizing his hand.] Brother! brother! Mai. Ad. [Breaking away.] NoW Call thy foUoWOrS. Death has not now A single pang in store. Proceed ! Fm ready. Sal. O, art thou ready to forgive, my brother, — To pardon him who found one single error, One little failing, 'mid a splendid throng Of glorious qualities — 3fal. Ad. O, stay thee, Saladin I I did not ask for life — I only wished To carry thy forgiveness to the grave. No, Emperor, the loss of Csesarea Cries loudly for the blood of Malek Adhel. Thy soldiers, too, demand that he who lost What cost them many a weary hour to gain, Should expiate his offences with his life. Lo, even now they crowd to view my death, Thy just impartiality. I go — Pleased by my fate to add one other leaf To thy proud wreath of glory. [GcriBg Sal. Thou shalt not. [Enter Attendant.] Att. My lord, the troops assembled by your order, Tumultuous throng the courts. The prince's death Not one of them but vows he will not suffer. — The mutes have fled ; the very guards rebel ; Nor think I in this city's spacious round, Can e'er be found a hand to do the office. 232 THE FIFTH READER. 3fal. Ad. 0, faithful friends ! [To att.] Thine shab. Att. Mine ? — Never ! — The other first shall lop it from the body. /Sal. They teach the Emperor his duty well. Pell thera he thanks them for it ; tell them, too, That ere their opposition reached our ears, Saladin had forgiven Malek Adhel. AU. O, joyful news ! I haste to gladden many a gallant heart, And dry the tear on many a hardy cheek Unused to such a visitor. [Etik. Sal. These men^ the meanest in society, The outcasts of the earth, — by war, by nature Hardened, and rendered callous °, — these, who claim No kindred with thee, who have never heard The accents of afiection from thy lips, — 0, these can cast aside their vowed allegiance', Throw off their long obedience, risk their lives. To save thee from destruction. While I, 1, who cannot, in all my memory. Call back one danger which thou hast not shared, One day of grief, one night of revelry. Which thy resistless kindness hath not soothed. Or thy gay smile and converse rendered sweeter ; — I, who have thrice in the ensanguined** field, When death seemed certain, only uttered — "Brother I" And seen that form like lightning rush between Saladin and his foes ; and that brave breast, Dauntless, exposed to many a furious blow Intended for my own — I could forget That 'twas to thee I owed the very breath Which sentenced thee to perish ! 0, 'tis shameful I Thou canst not pardon me. 3Ial. Ad. By these tears I can — O, brother ! from this very hour, a new. THE FIFTH READER. 233 A glorious life commences — I am all thine. Again the day of gladness or of anguish Shall Malek Adhel share, and oft again JVIay this sword fence thee in the bloody iBeld. Henceforth, Saladin, My heart, my soul, my sword, are thine forever. 1 Spe'ciovs. Plausible} showy; seemingly good. 2 SDb'ter-fuCjJE. An evasion ; an ar- tifice ; a trick. » D}s-s£m'bl5R. a hypocrite; one who conceals his opinions or dispo- sition under a false appearance. 4 Bow'strIng, a cord used by the Turks to strangle criminals. 6 Ir-r£v'p-ca-ble. That which can- not be recalled. 6 CAl'lovs. Hard; insensible; un- feeling. 7 Al-le'^iance. Fidelity, or obedi- ence which a citizen owes to his government. 8 fiN-sXN'GUfNED. Smeared Or Stained with blood. LXIV. — CITY AND COUNTRY. O.'W. Holmes. [Oliver Wendell Holmes, M. D., was born in Cambridge, In 1809, and was graduated at Harvard College in 1829. He is one of the most brilliant and popular of American writers. He is a professor in the medical department of Harvard College, and distinguished as a man of science. The following poem was read by him at a festival gathering of the sons of Berkshire, Mass.] 1. Come back to your Mother, ye children, for shame. Who have wandered like truants, for riches and fame! With a smile on her face, and a sprig in her cap, She calls you to feast from her bountiful lap. 2. Come out from your alleys, your courts, and your lanes, And breathe, like your eagles, the air of our plains; Take a w^hiff from our fields, and your excellent wives Will declare 'tis all nonsense insuring your lives. S. Come, you of the law, who can talk, if you please, Till the man in the moon will allow it 's a cheese, And leave " the old lady that never tells Hes," To sleep with her handkerchief over her eyes. 20 * ^- 234 THE FIFTH READER. 4. Ye healers of men, for a moment decline Your feats in the rhubarb and ipecac ^ line ; While you shut up your turnpike, your neighbors can go The old round-about road to the regions below. 5. You clerk, on whose ears are a couple of pens, And whose head is an ant-hill of units and tens, Though Plato * denies you, we welcome you still — As a featherless biped, in spite of your quill. 6. Poor drudge of the city ! how happy he feels With the burrs on his legs and the grass at his heels ! No dodger"^ behind his bandannas^ to share, — No constable grumbling, " You mustn't walk there!" 7. In yonder green meadow, to memory dear. He slaps a mosquito, and bnishes a tear ; The dewdrops hang around him on blossoms and shoots, He breathes but one sigh for his youth and his boots. 8. There stands the old school-house, hard by the old church ; That tree by its side had the flavor of birch ; O, sweet were the days of his juvenile tricks, Though the prairie of youth had so many "big licks!" 9. By the side of yon river he weeps and he slumps, The boots fill with water, as if they were pumps, Till, sated * with rapture, he steals to his bed. With a glow in his heart, and a cold in his head. 10. 'Tis past, — he is dreaming — I see him again; Th« ledger returns 'as by legerdemain ^ ; * Plato. A celebrated Greek philosopher, bom about 430 jears before Christ, His reported definition of man,— a biped without feathers,— is alluded to here. THE FIFTH READER. 285 His mustache is damp with an easterly flaw, And he holds in his fingers an omnibus ^ straw. 11. He dreams the chill gust is a blossoming gale, That the straw is a rose from his dear native vale ; And murmurs, unconscious of space and of time, "A 1 '. — Extra super. — Ah ! isn't it prime ! " 12. O, what are the prizes* we perish to win, To the first little "shiner" we caught with a pin? No soil upon earth is so dear to our eyes As the soil we first stirred in terrestrial ** pies! 13. Then come from all parties, and parts, to our feast ; Though not at the " Astor,"* we'll give you at least A bite at an apple, a seat on the grass. And the best of old — water — at nothing a glass ! I Ip'e-cXc. a contraction of ipecac- uanha, a South American plant used as an emetic. i D6d<^'er. One guilty of sly, mean tricks ; here, a sly thief. 3 BXn-dXn'na. a kind of pocket handkerchief. 4 Sat'ed. Filled or gratified to the extent of desire ; glutted. » Lfi^-ER-DiE-MAiN'. Sleight of hand J the art of performing tricks which depend chiefly on nimbleness of hand ; a juggle. 6 Om'nj bDs, a large public carriage used in cities. 7 A 1. Signs used in insuring a vessel to denote that it is of the first class ; hence, colloquially applied to any thing of the best quality. 8 Ter-r£s'tri-al. Earthy, or earthly. LXV. — EXTRACT FROM EMMET'S SPEECH. Egbert Emmet. [Robert Emmet was bom at Dublin, Ireland, in the year 1780. Even in his boyhood he became prominent as an advocate of the independence of his na- tive country. After the failure of the revolution of 1798, he escaped to France, but returned in 1803, and took an active part in an attack upon the castle and ar- senals of Dublin. The effort was unsuccessful. Emmet was arrested, tried, and convicted of high treason. The following extract is from the speech deliv- * A large hotel in 25ew York city. 236 THE FIFTH READER. ered by him in reply to the question, " What have you, therefore, now to eay why judgment of death and execution should not be awarded against you, according to law f " He was executed on the g'allows, September 20, 1803. The eloquence and pathort evinced by his speecli, as well as the courage with which he met his fate, won general admiration.] 1. My Lords : What have I to say, why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me, according to law? I have nothhig to say that can alter your predetermination, or that it would become me to- say, with any view to the mitigation* of that sentence which you are here to pro- nounce, and which I must abide. But I have much to say which interests me more than that life which you have labored to destroy. I have much to say, why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny which has been heaped upon it. 2. Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by your tribunal^ ^ I should bow in silence and meet the fate that awaits me, without a murmur. But the sen- tence of the law which delivers my body to the execu- tioner, will, through the ministry of that law, labor in its own vindication to consign my character to obloquy ^, for there must be guilt somewhere ; whether in the sentence of the court or in the catastrophe, posterity must de- termine. 3. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port; when my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold and in the field, in defence of their country and virtue, — this is my hope : I wish that my memory and name may animate those who survive me, while I look down with complacency on the destruction of that perfidious govern- ment, which upholds its domination by blasphemy of the Most High. 4. My lord, shall a dying man be denied the legal priv ilege of exculpating* himself, in the eyes of the commu- THE FIFTH READER. 237 nity, from an undesei-ved reproach thrown upon him during his trial, by charging him with ambition, and attempting to cast away, for a paltry consideration, the hberties of his country? Why, then, insult me? or, rather, why insult justice, in demanding of me why sentence of death should not be pronounced ? 5. I am charged with being an emissary* of France ! An emissary of France ! And for what end ? It is al- leged that I wished to sell the independence of my coun- try! And for what end? Was this the object of my ambition ? and is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions? No, I am no emissary; and my ambiiion wns to hold a place among the deliverers of my country ; not in power, nor in profit, but in the glory of the achievement ! 6. Sell my country's independence to France ! And for what ? Was it for a change of masters? No, but for ambition ! O my country, was it personal ambition that could influence me ? Had it been the soul of my actions, could I not by my education and fortune, by the rank and consideration of my family, have placed myself among the proudest of my oppressors ? My country was my idol ; to it I sacrificed every selfish, every endearing sentiment j and for it I now offer up my life. 7. No, my lord ; I acted as an Irishman, determined on delivering my country from the yoke of a foreign arid un. • relenting tyranny ; and from the more galling yoke of a domestic faction, which is its joint partner and perpetrator in the parricide ^, whose reward is the ignominy of exist- ing with an exterior of splendor and a consciousness of depravity. It was the wish of my heart to extricate my country from this doubly-riveted despotism ; I wished to place her independence beyond the reach of any power on earth ; I wished to exalt her to that proud station in the world. 238 THE FIFTH READER. 8. Let no man dare, when I am dead, to charge me with dishonor; let no man attaint' my memory by believing that I could have engaged in any cause but that of my country's liberty and independence ; or that I could have become the pliant minion** of power in the oppression or the miseries of my countrymen. 9. I would not have submitted to a foreign oppressor, for the same reason that I would resist the domestic ty- rant: in the dignity of freedom, I would have fought upon the threshold of my country, and her enemy should enter only by passing over my lifeless corpse. Am I, who lived but for my country, and who have subjected myself to the vengeance of the jealous and watchful oppressor, and now to the bondage of the grave, only to give my countrymen their riglits, — am I to be loaded with calumny, and not to be suffered to resent or repel it ? No : God forbid ! 10. If the spirits of the illustrious dead participate in the concerns and cares of those who are dear to them in this transitory life, O, ever dear and venerated shade of my departed father ! look down with scrutiny on the con- duct of your suffering son, and see if I have even for a moment deviated from those principles of morality and patriotism which it was your care to instil into my youth- ful mind, and for an adherence to which I am now to offer up my life ! 11. My lords, you are impatient for the sacrifice. The blood which you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors which surround your victim ; it circulates warmly and unruffled, through the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are bent to destroy for purposes so grievous that they cry to ITeaven ! Be yet patient ! I have but a few words more to say. I am going to my silent grave ; my lamp of life is nearly extinguished; my race is run ; the grave opens to receive me, and I sink into its bosom. THE FIFTH READER. 239 12. I have but one request to ask, at ray departure from this world ; — it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for, as no one who knows my motives dares now vindicate them, let not prejudice^ or ignorance asperse '" them. Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times, and other men, can do justice to my character. When my country shall take her place among the nations of the earth, — then, and not till then, — let my epitajDh be written ! 1 M1t-i-6A'tion. Abatement of any thing painful or severe ; a render- ing less severe. « Tri-bO'nal. Judgment-seat j court of justice. 8 OB'Lp-Quy. Censorious speech; blame; disgrace. 4 |;x-cOl,'pat-|n&. Clearing from guilt; excusing. 6 £m'js-sa-r¥. One sent on a mis- sion ; a private or secret agent. • PXr'ri-cide. The murder or tho murderer of a parent. 7 /Lt-taint'. Cloud with infamy; stain; disgrace. 8 MIn'iqn. a favorite in an ill sense ; a low, base dependant. » Pr£j'V-dIce. a leaning in favor of one side of a cause, for some rea- son other than its justice ; previous bias or judgment. 10 ^s-PERSE'. Slander; defame. LXVL — NATIONAL HYMN. Kev. S. F. Smith, D. D. [Rev. Samuel F. Smith, D. D., is a native of Boston, and a graduate of Har- vard College of the class of 1829. He is a clergyman of the Baptist denomina- tion, and the editor of the publications of the American Baptist Missionary Uak>n.] 1. My country, 'tis of thecj Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing ; Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrim's pride, From every mountain side Let freedom ring. 240 THE FIFTH READER. 2. My native country, thee — Land of the noble free — Thy name — I love ; I love thy rocks and rills, Thy woods and templed hills; My heart with rapture thrills Like that above. 3. Let music swell the breeze, And ring from all the trees Sweet freedom's song : Let mortal tongues awake ; Let all that breathe partake ; Let rocks their silence break — The sound prolong. 4. Our fathers' God, to thee, Autlior of liberty. To thee we sing : Long may our land be bright , With freedom's holy light, Protect us by thy might, Great God, our King. LXVIL — LIMIT TO HUMAN DOMINION. Swain. [The following' extract is a portion of a sermon of striking eloquence and beauty, by the Rev. Leonard Swain, of Providence, Rhode Island, published in tlie " Bibhatheca Sacra."] 1. Man's dominion is the solid land. If the Old World speaks of man, to tell where he has been, so the New World seems to speak of him, and to tell where he shall be. In the forests of the Mississippi, a thousand miles THE FIFTH READER. 241 beyond the outmost cities, the sound of the axe and the gun declares that the all-conquering wave of civilization is coming; and a thousand miles farther on, where even these prophetic sounds have not been heard, there is that which speaks of human approach. 2. The stillness which is there is the stillness of fear and not of security. It tells that man is coming. The very silence is full of his name. The trees whisper it to one another. The fox and the panther utter it in their cry. The winds take up the secret, and give it to the hills, and these to the echoing vales. The fountains pub- lish it to the brooks, and the brooks to the rivers, and the rivers spread it a thousand miles along their* banks, and proclaim it at last to the northern seas — that man, the conqueror and king, is coming; that his footstep has been heard on the Atlantic shore; that the hills await him; that the vales expect him; that the forests bend their tremulous tops to listen for him ; that the fear of him is upon the beasts of the wood, the fowl of the moun- tain, the cattle of a thousand hills ; upon all rivers and plains, upon all quarries of rock and mines of precious ore'; for all that is within the compass of land is given to his dominion, and he shall subdue its strength and appro- priate its treasures, and scatter the refuse of it as the dust beneath his feet. 3. There man's empire stops. God has given the land to man, but the sea he has reserved to himself. " The sea is his, and he made it." He has given man "no inheritance in it ; no, not so much as to set his foot on." If he enters its domain, he enters it as a pilgrim and a stranger. He may pass over it, but he can liave no abid- ing place upon it. He cannot build his house, nor so much as pitch his tent, within it. He cannot mark it with his lines, nor subdue it to his uses, nor rear his monuments upon it. It steadfastly refuses to own him as its lord and 21 242 THE FIFTH READER. master. Its depths do not tremble at his coming. Its waters do not flee when he appeareth. All the strength of all his generations is to it as a feather before the whirl- wind ; and all the noise of his commerce, and all the thun- der of his navies, it can hush in a moment within the silence of its impenetrable abysses. 4. Whole armies have gone down into that unfathom- able darkness, and not a floating bubble marks the place of their disappearing. If all the populations of the world, from the beginning of time, were cast into its depths, the smooth surface of its oblivion* would close over them in an hour; and if all the cities of the earth, and all the struc- tures and monuments ever reared by man, were heaped together over that grave for a tombstone, it would not break the surface of the deep, or lift back their memory to the light of the sun and the breath of the upper air. The sea would roll its billows in derision, a thousand fath- oms deep, above the topmost stone of that mighty sepulchre. 5. The patient earth submits to the rule of man, and the mountains bow their rocky heads before the hammer of his power and the blast of his terrible enginery. The sea cares not for him ; not so much as a single hair's breadth can its level be lowered or lifted by all the art, and all the eflbrt, and all the enginery of all the generations of time. He comes and goes upon it, and a moment after it is as if he had never been there. He may engrave his titles upon the mountain top, and quarry his signature into the foundations of the globe, but he cannot write his name on the sea. 6. And thus, by its material uses and its spiritual voices, does the sea ever speak to us, to tell us that its builder and maker is God. He hewed its channels in the deep, and drew its barriers upon the sand, and cast its belted' waters around the world. He fitted it to the earth and the sky, and poised" them skilfully, the one against the other, THE FIFTH READER. 248 when he " measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with the span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the moun- tains in scales, and the hills in a balance." He gave the sea its wonderful laws, and armed it with its wonderful powers, and set it upon its wonderful work. " O'er all its breadth his wisdom walks, , On all its waves his goodness shines. " 7. Let us give thanks, therefore, for the sea. Let us remember him that gave it such vast dominion, and made it to be not only the dwelling-place of his awful presence, but the beautiful garment of his love and the mighty- instrument of his goodness. Let it speak to us of his unfathomable fulness. Let it teach us that he has made nothing in vain. Let it remind us that the powers of destruction and death are under his control, and that be- hind the cloud of darkness and terror that often invests them, they are working out immeasurable results of bless- ing and life for the future time, for distant regions, and ibr coming generations. Let it lead us to confide in Him who " ruleth the raging of the seas, who stilleth the noise of their waves, and the tumult of the people ; " who has all the forces of the world at his control, and all the ages of time at his command ; who knows how to build his king- dom beneath the sea of human opposition, as he built the continents beneath the ocean waters ; who makes all the powers of dislocation* and decay yield to that kingdom some element of strength or richness; and who, when the appointed hour shall come, will lift it irresistibly above the waves, and set its finished beauty beneath the heavens with the spoils of all time gathered upon its walls. 1 ORE. A- mineral body which is changed to the metallic state by the action of fire, « Ob-i.iv'1-on, Forgetfulness ; cessa- tion of remembrance. 3 B£lt'?d. Clasped round like a belt; also, encircled by a belt. * Pi5i§E. Balance J weigh. 6 DIs'lo-cA'tion. Derangement of position 5 displacement. 244 THE FIFTH READER. LXYIIL — A MOSQUITO HUNT. Basil Hall. [Basil Hall was bom in Edinburgh, in 1788, and died in 1844. He was a post- captain in the British navy at the time of his death. He was a vigorous and entertaining writer, especially on subjects connected with his own profession- The following extract is from the third series of his Fragments of Voyages and Travels.] 1. In the sleeping apartments of India, great care is taken to secure coolness. The beds, which are always large and hard, are generally placed as nearly as may be in the very middle of the apartment, in the line of the freest thorough draught which open doors and windows can command. Round each bed is suspended a gauze ' curtain, without which sleep would be as effectually murdered as ever it was by any tragedy king. For, if even one mos- quito contrives to gain admission into your fortress ^ you may, for that night, bid good-by not only to sleep, but to temper, and almost to health. I defy the most resolute, the most serene, or the most robust person that ever lived between the tropics, to pass the whole night in bed, within the curtains of which a single invader has entered, and not to be found, when the morning comes, in a high fever, with every atom of his patience exhausted. 2. The process of getting into bed, in India, is one requiring great dexterity, and not a little scientific engi- neering. As the curtains are carefully tucked in close under the mattress, all round, you must decide at once at what part of the bed you choose to make your entry. Having surveyed the ground, and clearly made up your mind on this point, you take in your right hj;ind a kind of brush, or switch, made of a horse's tail ; or, if you be tol- erably expert, a towel may answer the purpose. With your left hand you then seize that part of the skirt of the curtain which is thrust under the bedding at the place you I THE FIFTH READER. 245 intend to enter, and by the light of the cocoa-nut oil lamp you must drive away the mosquitoes from your immediate neighborhood by whisking round your horse-tail switch; and, before proceeding farther, you must be sure you haYG effectually driven the enemy back. 3. If you fail in this matter, your repose is effectually dashed for that night ; for these provoking animals appear to know perfectly well what is going to happen, and assemble with the vigor and bravery of the flank compa- nies^ appointed to head a storming party, ready in one instant to rush into the breach, careless alike of horses' tails and towels. Let it be supposed, however, that you have Successfully beaten back the enemy. You next promptly form an opening, not a hair's breadth larger than your own person, into which you leap, like harlequin through a hoop, closing up, with all the speed of fear, the gap through which you have shot yourself into your sleeping quarters. 4. If all these arrangements have been well managed, you may amuse yourself for a w^hile by scoffing at and triumphing over the clouds of baffled mosquitoes outside, who dash themselves against the meshes of the net, in vain attempts to enter your sanctum. If, however, for your sins, any one of their number has succeeded in enter- ing the place along with yourself, he is not so silly as to betray his presence while you are flushed with victory, wide awake, and armed with the means of his destruction. Far from this, he allows you to chuckle over your fancied great doings, and to lie down with all the complacency and fallacious security of your conquest, and under the entire assurance of enjoying a tranquil night's rest. Alas, for such presumptuous hopes! Scarcely have you dropped gradually from these visions of the day to the yet more blessed visions of the night, and the last faint effort of your eyelids has been overcome by the gentle pressure of 21* 246 THE FIFTH READER. Bleep, when, in deceitful slumber, you hear something like the sound of trumpets. 5. Straightway your imagination is kindled, and you fancy yourself in the midst of a fierce fight, and strug- gling, not against petty insects, but against armed men and thundering cannon. In the excitement of the mortal con- flict of your dream, you awake, not displeased, mayhap, to find that you are safe and snug in bed. But in the next instant what is your dismay, when you are again saluted by the odious notes of a mosquito close to your ear ! The perilous fight of the previous dream, in which your honor had become pledged, and your life at hazard, is all forgotten in the pressing reality of this waking calamity. You resolve to do or die, and not to sleep, or even attempt to sleep, till you have finally overcome the enemy. 6. Just as you have made this manly resolve, and in order to deceive the foe, have pretended to be fast asleep, the wary mosquito is again heard, circling over you at a distance, but gradually coming nearer and nearer in a spiral'' descent, and at each turn gaining upon you one inch, till at length he almost touches your ear, and, as you suppose, is about to settle upon it. With a sudden jerk, and full of wrath, you bring up your hand, and give yourself such a box on the ear as would have staggered the best friend you have in the world, and might have crushed twenty thousand mosquitoes, had they been there congregated. Being convinced that you have now done for him, you lie down again. 7. In less than ten seconds, however, the very same felon*, whom you fondly hoped you had executed, is again within hail of you, and you can almost fancy there is scorn in the tone of his abominable hum. You, of course, watch his motions still more intently than before, but only by the ear, for you can never see him. We will suppose that you fancy he is aiming at your left THE FIFTH READER. 247 hand ; indeed, as you are almost sure of it, you wait till he has ceased his song, and then you give yourself another smack, which, I need not say, proves quite as fruitless as the first. 8. About this stage of the action you discover, to your horror, that you have been soundly bitten in one ear and in both heels, but when or how you cannot tell. These wounds, of course, put you into a fine rage, partly from the pain, and partly from the insidious^ manner in which they have been inflicted. Up you spring on your knees — not to pray. Heaven knows! — but to fight. You seize your horse's tail with spiteful rage, and after whisking it round and round, and cracking it in every corner of the bed, you feel pretty certain you must at last have demol- ished your friend. 9. In this unequal warfare you pass the livelong night, alternately scratching and cuffing yourself, fretting and fuming to no purpose, feverish, angry, sleepy, provoked, and wounded in twenty different places. At last, just as the long-expected day begins to dawn, you drop ofi^, quite exhausted, into an unsatisfactory, heavy slumber, during which your triumphant enemy banquets upon your carcass at his convenient leisure. As the sun is rising, you awaken only to discover the bloated and satiated monster clinging to the top of your bed — an easy, but useless and inglo- rious prey. 1 Gauze. A thin, transparent stuff of silk or linen. a FoR'TRESS. A stronghold ; a forti- fied place. 8FlXnkc6m'pa-nie§. The companies which are on the extreme right and loft when the regiment is drawn up in line. One of them usually heada a storming party. * SPi'RAt.. Winding or circular. 5 FfiL'QN. A criminal ; a culprit. 6 Jn-sId'j-oOs. Deceitful} sly 248 THE FIFTH READER. LXIX. — NEW ENGLAND. Percival. 1. Hail to the land whereon we tread, Our fondest boast ! The sepulchre' of mighty dead, The truest hearts that ever bled, Who sleep on glory's brightest bed, A fearless host ! No slave is here ; our unchained feet Walk freely as the waves that beat Our coast. 2. Our fuhers crossed the ocean's wave To seek this shore ; They left behind the coward slave To welter'^ in his living grave : With hearts unbent, and spirits brave, They sternly bore Such toils as meaner souls had quelled^; But souls like these such toils impelled To soar. 3. Hail to the morn when first they stood On Bunker's height, And, fearless, stemmed the invading flood. And wrote our dearest rights in blood. And mowed in ranks the hireling * brood, In desperate fight ! O, 'twas a proud, exulting day. For even our fallen fortunes lay In light. 4. There is no other land like thee, No dearer shore ; THE FIFTH READER. 249 Thou art the shelter of the free ; The home, the port of liberty, Thou hast been and shalt ever be. Till time is o'er. Ere I forget to think upon My land, shall mother curse the son She bore. 5. Thou art the firm, unshaken rock, On which we rest ; And, rising from thy hardy stock. Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock, And slavery's galling chains unlock, And free the oppressed ; All who the wreath of freedom twine, Beneath the shadow of their vine Are blessed. 6. "We love thy rude and rocky shore, And here we stand — Let foreign navies hasten o'er And on our heads their fury pour, And peal their cannon's loudest roar, And storm our land ; They still shall find our lives are given To die for home ; and leant on Heaven Our hand. I Sfip'vi'-je'HRE (-ker). A burial-place. I s aufiLLED. Subdued; tamed. I W£l'ter. Roll in, or as in water or * IIire'lin&. Serving for hirej blood ; wallow. | cenary. 250 THE FIFTH READER. LXX. — A MODEST WIT. Haughty, being great — purse-proud, being rich — A governor, or general, at the least, I have forgotten wliich — Had in his family a humble youth. Who went from England in his patron's suite*, An uiiassuming boy, and in truth A lad of decent parts, and good repute. 2. This youth had sense and spirit; But yet, with all his sense, Excessive diffidence Obscured his merit. 3. One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine, His honor, proudly free, severely merry, Conceived it would be vastly fine To crack a joke upon his secretary. 4. "Young man," he said, "by what ai*t, craft, or trade Did your good father gain a livelihood ? " — " He was a saddler sir," Modestus said, « And in his time was reckoned good." 5. "A saddler, eh ? and taught you Greek, Instead of teaching you to sew ! Pray, why did not your father make A saddler, sir, of you ? " 6. Each parasite* then, as in duty bound, The joke applauded, and the laugb went round At length Modestus, bowing low. THE FIFTH READER. 251 Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), " Sir, by your leave, I fain would know Your father's trade." " My father's trade ! Come, come, sir ! that's too bad My fother's trade ! Why, blockhead, are you mad ? My father, sir, did never stoop so low — He was a gentleman, I'd have you know." "Excuse the liberty I take," Modestus said, with archness on his brow, — " Pray, why did not your father make A gentleman of you ? " I Si7-PER-clL'i-oOs,(or su-per-cil'ious). Lofty with pride ; haughty 5 dicta- torial. 8 Na'b6b. a prince or governor in the East Indies ; a very rich man. 8 Suite (swet, here sut). A company of followers or attendants ; a reti- nue. 4 PAR' A -SITE. One who frequents the tables of the rich or the great, and earns his welcome by flattery ; a sycophant. LXXL — ENCOUNTER BETWEEN AN EAGLE AND A SALMON. Life in the Woods. 1. I HAVE often been struck with the singular attach- ment hunters sometimes have for some bird or animal, while all the rest of the species they pursue with deadly hostility ^ About five hundred yards from Beach's hut stands a lofty pine tree, on which a gray eagle has built its nest annually during the nine years he has lived on the shores of the Kaquette.* The Indian who dwelt there before him says that the same pair of birds made their nest ♦ A small lake in northern New York. 252 THE FIFTH READER. on that tree for ten years previous ; making in all nineteen years they have occupied the same spot, and built on the same branch. 2. One day, however. Beach was near losing his bold eagle. He was lying at anchor, fishing, when he saw his favorite bird, high up in heaven, slowly sweeping round and round in a huge circle, evidently awaiting the approach of a fish to the surface. For an hour or more, he thus sailed with motionless wings above the water, when all at once he stopped and hovered a moment with an excited gesture, then, rapid as a flash of lightning, and with a rush of his broad pinions ^ like the passage of a sudden gust of wind, came to the still bosom of the lake. 3. He had seen a huge salmon trout swimming near the surface; and plunging from his high watchtower^, drove Ms talons* deep in his victim's back. So rapid and strong was his swoop', that he buried himself out of sight when he struck ; but the next moment he emerged into view, and, flapping his wings, endeavored to rise with his prey. 4. But this time he had miscalculated his strength ; in vain he struggled nobly to lift the salmon from the water. The frightened and bleeding fish made a sudden dive, and took eagle and all out of sight, and was gone a quarter of a minute. Again they rose to the surface, and the strong bird spread out his broad dripping pinions, and, gathering force with his rapid blows, raised the salmon half out of water. The weight, however, was too great for him, and he sank again to the surface, beating the water into foam about him. The salmon then made another dive, and they both went under, leaving only a few bubbles to tell where they had gone down. 5. This time they were absent a full half minute, and Beach said he thought it was all over with his bird. Ha soon, however, reappeared, with his talons still buried in the flesh of his foe, and again made a desperate effort to THE FIFTH READER. 253 rise. All this time the fish was shooting like an arrow through the lake, carrying his relentless ^ foe on his back. He could not keep the eagle down, nor the bird carry hira up ; and so, now beneath, and now upon the surface, they struggled on, presenting one of the most singular yet exciting spectacles that can be imagined. It wa& fearful to witness the blows of the eagle, as he lashed the lake with his wings into spray, and made the shores echo with the report. 6. At last the bird thinking, as they say in the West, that he had " waked the wrong passenger," gave it up, and loosening his clutch, soared heavily and slowly away to his lofty pine tree, where he sat for a long time sullen and sulky, the picture of disappointed ambition. So might a wounded and baffled lion lie down in his lair and brood over his defeat. Beach said that he could easily have captured them, but he thought he would see the fight out. 7. When, however, they both staid under half a minute or more, he concluded he should never see his eagle again. Whether the latter in his rage was bent on capturing his prize, and would retain his hold, though at the hazard of his life, or whether in his terrible swoop he had stuck his crooked talons so deep in the back of the salmon that he could not extricate^ himself, the hunter said he could not tell. The latter, however, was doubtless the truth, and he would have been glad to have let go long before he did. 1 HQS-Tli.'j-Ty. Enmity; hatred. a PlN'lON§ (-yun?). Joints of the wing furthest from the body ; wings, f Watcii'to^-er (w6ch ). A tower or high point for watching. 22 * TXl'on§. The claws of birds of prey. 6 Swoop. A sudden, sweeping de scent. 6 Re-lEnt'less. Pitiless ; cruel. 7 fix'TRj-cATE. Disembarrass; free. 254 THE FIFTH BEADEB. LXXIL — THE MOCKING BIRD. ALEXANDER WiLSON. Alexander Wilson was bom In Paisley, Scotland, in 1766, removed to this country in 1794, and died in 1813. The first volume of his American Ornithol- ogy was published in September, 1808. To collect the materials lor this work he made extensive tours through all parts of the country, which were attended with severe toil and frequent exposure. It was much and deservedly admired for the brilliant execution of the plates and the admirable letter-press descrip- tions. Six additional volumes were published before Wilson's death, and two more volumes were completed and published by his friend, Mr. George Ord, in 1814.] 1. The plumage of the mocking bird, though none of the homeliest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it, and had he nothing else to recommend him, would scarcely entitle him to notice ; but his figure is well proportioned, and even handsome. The ease, elegance, and rapidity of his movements, the animation of his eye, and the intelligence he displays in listening, and laying up lessons from almost every species of the feathered creation within his hearing, are really surprising, and mark the peculiarity of his genius. To these qualities we may add that of a voice full, strong, and musical, and capable of almost every modulation, from the clear, mellow tones of the wood thrush to the savage screams of the bald eagle. 2. In measure and accent he faithfully follows his origi- nals. In force and sweetness of expression he greatly improves upon them. In his native groves, mounted upon the top of a tall bush or half-grown tree, in the dawn of dewy morning, while the woods are already vocal with a multitude of warblers, his admirable song rises preeminent over every competitor. The ear can listen to his music alone, to which that of all the others seems a mere accom- paniment. Neither is this strain altogether imitative. 3. His own native notes, which are easily distinguishablo by such as are well acquainted with those of our various birds of song, are bold and full, and varied, seemingly. THE FIFTH READER. 255 beyond all limits. They consist of short expressions of two, three, or, at the most, five or six syllables, generally interspersed^ with imitations, and all of them uttered with gi-eat emphasis and rapidity, and continued, with undi- minished ardor, for half an hour or an hour at a time ; his expanded wings and tail glistening with white, and the buoyant gayety of his action arresting the eye, as his song most irresistibly does the ear. 4. He sweeps round with enthusiastic ecstasy'; he mounts and descends, as his song swells or dies away ; and, as my friend Mr. Bartrara has beautifully expressed it, "he bounds aloft with the celerity^ of an arrow, as if to recover or recall his very soul, which expired in the last elevated strain." While thus exerting himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, w^ould suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled together on a trial of skill, each striving to produce its utmost effect — so perfect are his imitations. 5. He very often deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search of birds that perhaps are not within miles of him, but whose notes he exactly imitates. Even birds themselves are frequently imposed on by this admirable mimic, and are decoyed by the fancied calls of their mates, or dive, with precipitation'*, into the depths of thickets, at the scream of what they suppose to be the sparrow hawk. 6. The mocking bird loses little of the power and en- ergy of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, when he commences his career of song, it is impos- sible to stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog ; Caesar starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his mas- ter. He squeaks out like a hurt chicken; and the- hen hurries about, with hanging wings and bristled feathers, clucking to protect her injured brood. The barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, the creaking of a passing wheelbarrow, follow with great truth and rapidity. 256 THE FIFTH READER. 7. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable length, fully and faithfully. He runs over the quiverings of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the Virginia nightingale or redbird, with such superior execution and effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferiority, and become altogether silent, while he seems to triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions. 8. This excessive fondness for variety, however, in the opinion of some, injures his song. His elevated imita- tions of the brown thrush are frequently interrupted by the crowing of cocks ; and the warblings of the bluebird, which he exquisitely" manages, are mingled with the screaming of swallows, or the cackling of hens ; amidst the simple melody of the robin, we are suddenly surprised by the shrill reiterations® of the whip-poor-will; while the notes of the killdeer, bluejay, martin, baltimore, and twenty others, succeed, with such imposing reality, that we look round for the originals, and discover, with astonishment, that the sole performer, in this singular concert, is the admirable bird now before us. 9. During this exhibition of his powers, he spreads his wings, expands his tail, and throws himself around the cage in all the ecstasy of enthusiasm, seeming not only to sing, but to dance, keeping time to the measure of his own music. Both in his native and domesticated state, during the solemn stillness of the night, as soon as the moon rises in silent majesty, he begins his delightful solo', and sere- nades us the livelong night with a full display of his vocal powers, making the whole neighborhood ring with his inimitable melody. I ijr-TER-spgRSED'. Having some. thing' else scattered in between ; scattered here and there, so as to diversify ; intermingk-d. * fic'sTA-sy. Overpowering emotion ; excessive joy ; rapture. » C?-l£r'i-tv. Swirtness. * Pre-cTp I tX'tion. Rapid motion downwards : headlong haste 5 Cx'QU}-s'iTE-Ly. Most excellently. 6 Re-it-er a'tiqn. a doing again and again ; repetition. 1 S5'LO. A tune or air for a single voice or instrument. THE FIFTH READER. 257 LXXIIL — THE INQUIRYo 1. Tell me. ye winged ^-inds, that round my pathway roar Bo ye not know some spot where mortalswlp n7m7Il Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west Tho r f " T' ^"' ^^^^' *^^ --y --1 -y rest ? Iho loud wmd dwindled to a whisper low. And sighed for pity, as it answered — '.No," 2, Tell me thou mighty deep, whose billows round me nlav Wst thou some favored spot, some island far ^1^ Where weary man may find the bliss for which he si^h - Where .orrow never lives, and friendship never dies ? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer- « No." 3. And thou, serenest moon. that, with such lovely face Do t look upon the earth asleep in night's embrace ' Tell me, in all thy round, hast thou not seen some spot mere miserable man might find a happier lot' ^^' Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe And a voice, sweet but sad, responded- "No >t 4. To 1 mo, my secret soul, 0, tell me, Hope and Faith, J .hero Z r"""-'"*" ''■>■" ^'°"°-- ^'". -1 deaft . ft there no happy spot where mortals may bo blessed W«;/,? •' "f- ^°'"'' ^' ^"""^ «> ^o^Ms given, 22* 258 THE FIFTH READER. LXXIV. — TUBAL CAIN. Mackat. [Charles Mackay is a liTing English authoc, who has written well both m prose and verse.] 1. Old Tubal Cain was a man of might In the days when the earth was young , By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, The strokes of his hammer rung ; And he lifted high his brawny • hand On the iron glowing clear, Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers As he fashioned the sword and spear. And he sang, " Hurrah for my handiwork ! Hun*ah for the spear and sword ! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well For he shall be king and lord." 2. To Tubal Cain came many a one, As he wrought by his roaring fire. And each one prayed for a strong steel blade, As the crown ^ of his desire ; And he made them weapons sharp and strong, Till they shouted loud in glee, And gave him gifts of pearls and gold, And spoils of forest free. And they sang, " Hurrah for Tubal Cain, Who hath given us strength anew ! Hurrah for the smith ! hurrah for the fire I And hurrah for the metal true ! ** 8. But a sudden change came o'er bis heart Ere the setting of the su% i THE FIFTH READER. 259 And Tubal Cain was filled with pain For the evil he had done. He saw that men, witli rage and hate, Made war upon their kind ; That the land was red with the blood they shed In their lust^ for carnage blind. And he said, " Alas, that ever I made, Or that skill of mine should plan. The spear and the sword, for men whose joy Is to slay their fellow-man ! " 4. And for many a day old Tubal Cain Sat brooding o'er his woe ; And his hand forbore to smite the ore, And his furnace smouldered" low; But he rose at last with a cheerful face. And a bright, courageous eye. And bared his strong right arm for work, While the quick flames mounted high ; And he sang, " Hurrah for my handiwork** ! " And the red sparks lit the air — " Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made," — And he fashioned the first ploughshare. 6. And men, taught wisdom from the past. In friendship joined their hands, Hung the sword in the hall, the spear' on the wall, And ploughed the willing lands; And sang, " Hurrah for Tubal Cain I Our stanch^ good friend is he; And, for the ploughshare and the plough, To him our praise shall be. But while oppression lifts its head, Or a tyrant would be lord, 260 THE FIFTH READER. Though we may thank him for the plough, We'll not forget the sword." 1 BaAwN'y. Muscular ; strong. 3 Cr6>Vn. a wreath-shaped or circu- lar covering for the head, worn by sovereigns as a badge of regal pow- er ; highest point ; chief object. • LOST. Inordinate desire. 4 Smoul'dered. Burned without flame or vent, 5 HXnd'}-work (-wurk). Work of the hand ; manufacture. 6 Stanch. Firmj sure. LXXV. — THE APPROACH OF DAY. Edward Everett. [From an oration delivered at Albany, on the 2Fth of August, 1856, at the Inauguration of the Dudley Astronomical Observatory.] 1. The great object of all knowledge is to enlarge and purify the soul, to fill the mind with noble contemplations, and to furnish a refined pleasure. Considering this as the ultimate end of science, no branch of it can surely claim precedence' of astronomy. No other science furnishes such a palpable embodiment' of the abstractions which lie at the foundation of our intellectual system — the great ideas of time, and space, and extension, and magnitude, and number, and motion, and power. 2. How grand the conception of the ages on ages re- quired for several of the secular equations * of the solar system ; of distances from which the light of a fixed star would not reach us in twenty millions of years; of magnitudes compared with which the earth is but a foot- ball, of starry hosts, suns like our own, numberless as the Bands on the shore; of worlds and systems shooting * The moA'ements of the heavenly bodies are very nearly but not quite uni. form. There are slight variations, which must be taken into account to secure accurate results. Some of these variations stretch over very long periods, even v.'hole centuries. Secular equations are the corrections required by variations of this kind. Secular is derived from seoulum, a Latin word, meaning an age or century. THE FIFTH READER. 261 through the iirfinite spaces, with a velocity compared with which the cannon ball is a way-worn, heavy-paced trav- eller. 3. Much, however, as we are indebted to our observato- ries^ for elevating our conceptions of the heavenly bodies, they present, even to the unaided sight, scenes of glory which words aie too feeble to describe. I had occasion, a few weeks since, to take the early train from Providence to Boston, and for this purpose rose at two o'clock in the morning. 4. Every thing around was wrapped in darkness and hushed in silence, broken only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly clank and rush of the train. It was a mild, serene, midsummer's night ; the sky was without a cloud ; the winds were whist. The moon, then in the last quarter, had just risen, and the stars shone with a spectral lustre but little affected by her presence. Jupiter, two hours high, was tlie herald of the day; the Pleiades,* just above the horizon, shed their sweet influence in the east; Lyra f sparkled near the zenith ; Andromeda J veiled her newly-discovered glories from the naked eye in the south ; the steady Pointers* far beneath the pole, looked meekly up from the depths of the north to their sovereign. 5. Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more perceptible ; the intense blue of the sky be- gan to soften ; the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest ; the sister-beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but the bright constellations* of the west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the Avondrous trans- figuration ^ went on. Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens ; the glories of night dissolved into the glories of the dawn. 6. The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the *Pl.£'i^-DE§ (plS'yst dSz). t Ly'k^. X -^N dr6m e D^ 262 THE FIFTH READEE. great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes ; the east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky; the whole celestial concave' was filled with the in- flowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from above in one great ocean of radiance ; till at length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy tear-drops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds, the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began his course. 7. I do not wonder at the superstition of the ancient Magians, who in the morning of the world went up to the hill-tops of Central Asia, and, ignorant of the true God, adored the most glorious work of his hand. But I am filled with amazement, when I am told that in this enlight- ened age, and in the heart of the Christian world, there are persons who can witness this daily manifestation of the power and wisdom of the Creator, and yet say in their hearts, " There is no God." 1 Pre-ce'dence. Foremost place or rank ; priority ; superiority. « ^M b6d'| m£nt. Collection into a body or mass. OB-§gu v'A-TQ-RiE§. Places or build- ings for making observations on the heavenly bodies. PoIn'ter?. Two stars in the con- stellatiou Ursa Mtgor, which al- ways point in nearly a right line with the north star. 6 C61M-STEL LA'TIQN. A group o( fixed stars. 6 TrXns FiG v-RA'TiQN. Change of form ; transformation. 7 CSn'jCave. a hollow without an- gles, as U^e inner surface of a bowl or sphert. THE FIFTH READER. 263 LXXVL — EDINBURGH AFTER FLODDEN. Willi A.M Edmondstoune Aytoun. [William Edmondstoune Aytoun was born in Scotland, in 1813, and died An» gust 4, 1865. In 1845 he was elected to the professorship of rhetoric and bellea- lettres in the University of Edinburofh, which he held till the time of his death. The battle of Flodden was fought in the year 1513, between the Scotch army under King James IV., and the English, commanded by the Earl of Surrey, The defeat of the Scotch was most* disastrous. Their king was killed, and the greater part of their army destroyed. The loss of life among the gentry was especially severe, so tliat there was hardly a noble family in the kingdom that was not thrown into mourning.] 1. News of battle ! — news of battle ! Hark ! 'tis ringing down the street : And the archways and the pavement Bear the clang of hurrying feet. News of battle ! — who hath brought it ? News of triumph ! — who should bring Tidings from our noble army, Greetings from our gallant King ? 2. All last night we watched the beacons ' Blazing on the hills afar, Each one bearing, as it kindled, Message of the opened war. All night long the northern streamers Shot across the trembling sky ; Fearful lights, that never beckon Save when kings or heroes die. 8. News of battle ! who hath brought it? All are thronging to the gate ; " "Warder ^ — warder ! open quickly I Man — is this a time to wait ? " And the heavy gates are opened : Then a murmur long and loud, And a cry of fear and wonder Bui'sts from out the bending crowd. 264 THE FIFTH EEADEB. For they see in battered harness* Only one hard-stricken man ; And his weary steed is wounded, And his cheek is pale and wan : Spearless hangs a bloody banner In his weak and drooping hand — "What ! can that be Ran4olph Murray, Captain of the city band ? 4. Round him crush the people, crying, « Tell us all — O, tell us true ! Where are they who went to battle, Randolph Murray, sworn to you ? Where are they, our brothers — children? Have they met the English foe ? Why art thou alone, unfollowed? Is it weal or is it woe ? '* 5. Like a corpse the grisly warrior Looks from out his helm of steel ; But no word he speaks m answer — Only with his armed heel Chides his weary steed, and onward Up the city streets they ride ; Fathers, sisters, mothers, children, Shrieking, praying by his side. ** By the God that made thee, Randolph I Tell us what mischance hath come." Then he lifts his riven * banner. And the asker's voice is dumb. a The elders of the city Have met within their hall — The men whom good King James had charged To watch the tower and wall. THE FIFTH READER. ' 265 " Your hands are weak with age," he said, " Your hearts are stout and true j So bide ye in the Maiden Town,* While others fight for you. My trumpet from the Border-side Shall send a blast so clear, That all who wait within the gate That stirring sound may hear. 7. Or, if it be the will of Heaven That back I never come. And if, instead of Scottish shouts, Ye hear the English drum, — Then let the warning bblls ring out. Then gird you to the fray, Then man the walls like burghers * stout, And fight while fight you may. 'Twere better that in fiery flame The roof should thunder down, Than that the foot of foreign foe Should trample in the town ! " 8. Then in came Randolph Murray, — His step was slow and weak. And as he doffed his dinted helm, The tears ran down his cheek : They fell upon his corselet ®, And on his mailed hand. As he gazed around him wistfully, Leaning sorely on his brands 9. And none who then beheld him But straight were smote with fear^ For a bolder and a sterner man Had never couched a spear. * Edinburgh. 23 266 THE FIFTH READER. They knew so sad a messenger Some ghastly news must bring, And all of them were fathers, And their sons were with the King. 10. And up then rose the Provost ^ — A brave old man was he, Of ancient name, and knightly fame, And chivalrous degree. O, woful now was the old man's look, And he spake right heavily : ** Now, Randolph, tell thy tidings, However sharp they be ! "Woe is written on thy visage °, Death is looking from thy face : Speak ! though it be of overthrow — It cannot bo disgrace ! " 11. Right bitter was the agony That wrung that soldier proud : Thrice did he strive to answer. And thrice he groaned aloud. Then he gave the riven banner To the old man's shaking hand, Saying, " That is all I bring ye From the bravest of the land ! Ay ! ye may look upon it — It was guarded well and long. By your brothers and your children, By the valiant and the strong. One by one they fell around it. As the archers laid them low. Grimly dying, still unconquered, With their faces to the foe. THE FIFTH READER. 267 12. Ay ! ye well may look upon it — There is more than honor there, Else be sure, I had not brought it From the field of dark despair. Never yet was royal banner Steeped in such a costly dye ; It hath lain upon a bosom Where no other shroud shall lie. Sirs ! I charge you, keep it holy, Keep it as a sacred thing, For the stain ye see upon it Was the life-blood of your King ! " 13. Woe, woe, and lamentation ! What a piteous cry was there ! Widows, maidens, mothers, children, Shrieking, sobbing in despair ! 14. O, the blackest day for Scotland That she ever knew before ! O our King ! the good, the noble, Shall we see him never more ? Woe to us, and woe to Scotland ! O our sons, our sons and men ! Surely some have 'scaped the Southron,* Surely some will come again?" Till the oak that fell last winter Shall uprear its shattered stem — Wives and mothers of Dunedin — f Ye may look in vain for them ! Beacon. A ilre lighted on a height « Corse'let. A breastplate or light as a signal. t WXro'er. Keepv'ir ; guard. » Har NESS. Defensive armor ; equip^ ment of an ancient knight. * ETv'en, Torn or rent asunder. 6 BUrgh'er (blir'ger). A townsman. armor for the fore part of the body . 7 Brand. Sword. 8 Prov'ost. The chief or head. Tu Scotland, a provost corresponds to a mayor elsewhere. 9 V'i§'AGE. P'ace. * SouTU'RpN. Englishman. f DON £d'in. Gaelic name for EdinburgiL 268 THE FIFTH READER. LXXVIL— DIALOGUE BETWEEN ANTONY AND VENTIDIUS. Drydex. [John Dryden, a celebrated English poet, was born in 1631, and died in 1700. He was a voluminous writer, his works comprising tragedies, comedies, satires, didactic poems, narrative poems, odes, and occasional pieces. His is an emi-^ nont name in English literature. No writer is a greater master in the use of the heroic measure, and no one possesses in so high a degree the power of rea- soning in verse. He was also a forcible and animated prose writer. The following scene is from the tragedy of " All for Love." Mark Antony, a distinguished Koman, despairing of further success in the field, after his de- feat at Actium, gives himself up to inglorious ease. Ventidiuh is one of his generals. Octavius Cajsar (afterwards the Emperor Augustus) has taken up arms against Antony. Cleopatra is the Queen of Egypt, for whom Antony has abandoned his wife Octavia, the sister of Octavius Caesar.] Antony. Art thou Ventidius ? Ventidius. Are you Antony ? Fm liker what I was, than you to him I left you last. Ant. I'm angry. Ven. So am I. Ant. I would be private : leave me. Ven. Sir, I love you, And therefore will not leave you. Ant. Will not leave me ! Where have you learnt that answer ? Who am I ? Ven. My Emperor : the man I love next Heaven. If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin ; You're all that's good and noble. Ant. All that's wretched. You will not leave me, then ? Ven. 'Twas too presuming To say I would not : but I dare not leave you ; And 'tis unkind in you to chide me henco So soon, when I so far have come to see you. Ant. Now thou hast seen me, art thou satisfied ? THE FIFTH READEB. 269 For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough ; And, if a foe, too much. Ven. Look, Emperor, this is no common dew : I have not wept these forty years ; but now My mother comes afresh into my eyes ; I cannot help her softness. Atit. Sure there's contagion * in the tears of friends; See, I have caught it too. Believe me, 'tis not For my own griefs, but thine — nay, father — Ve?!. Emperor. Ant. Emperor ! why that's the style of victory. The conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, Salutes his general so : but never more Shall that sound reach my ears. X lost a battle. Ven. So has Julius* done. Ant. Thou favor'st me, and speak'st not half thou think'st ; For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly : But Antony Ven. Nay, stop not. Ant. Antony — (Well, thou wilt have it) — like a coward fled, Fled while his soldiers fought; fled first, Ventidius. Thou long'st to curse me, and I give thee leave. I know thou cam'st prepared to rail. Ve?!. I did. Ant. I'll help thee — I have been a man, Ventidius. Ven. Yes, and a brave one : but — ■ Ant. I know thy meaning. But I have lost my reason, have disgraced The name of soldier, with inglorious ease. In the full vintage ^ of my flowing honors Sate still, and saw it pressed by other hands. * Julius Caesar. 23* 2T0 THE FIFTH READER. Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed it, And purple greatness met my ripened years. When first I came to empire I was borne On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs ^ I was so great, so happy, so beloved, Fate could not ruin me ; till I took pains, And worked against my fortune, chid her fi'om me, And turned her loose : yet still she came again. My careless days, and my luxurious nights. At length have wearied her, and now she's gone, Gone, gone, divorced* forever. Ven. You are too sensible already Of what you've done, too conscious of your failings; And, like a scorpion, whipped by others first To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge. Ant. Dost thou think me desperate Without just cause ? No, when I found all lost Beyond repair, I hid me from the world, And learnt to scorn it here ; which now I do So heartily, I think it is not worth The cost of keeping. Ven. CaBsar thinks not so ; He'll thank you for the gift he could not take. You would be killed like Tully,* would you ? Do Hold out your throat to Caesar, and die tamely. Ant. No, I can kill myself; and so resolve. Ven. I can die with you, too, when time shall serve j But fortune calls upon us now to live, To fight, to conquer. Ant. Sure thou dream'st, Ventidius. Ven. No, 'tis you dream ; you sleep away your hours In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy. Up, up, for honor's sake ; twelve legions wait you, < Marcus Tullius Cicero, a distinguished Roman orator, was bom 106 B. C Hf was slain by a party of soldiers, agents of Antony, B. C. 43. THE FIFTH READER. 271 And long to call you Chief. By painful journeys I led them, patient both of heat and hunger, Down from the Parthian marches^ to the Nile. Twill do you good to see their sun-burnt faces, Their scarred cheeks, and chapped hands; there's virtue in them. AfiL Where left you them ? Ven. In Lower Syria. Ant. Bring them hither ; There may be life in these. Ven. They will not come. Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with promised aids, To double my despair ? They're mutinous ? Ven. Most firm and loyal. A7it. Yet they will not march To succor me. O, trifler ! Ven. They petition Tou would make haste to head them. Ant. I am besieged. Ven. There's but one way shut up — how came I hither I A7it. I will not stir. Ven. They would perhaps desire A better reason. A?it. I have never used My soldiers to demand a reason of My actions. Why did they refuse to march ? Veji. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Ant. What was't they said ? Ven. They said they would not fight for Cleopatra. Why should they fight, indeed, to make her conquer. And make you more a slave ? Ant. You grow presumptuous. Ven. I take the privilege of plain love to speak. Ant. Plain love! Plain arrogance ^, plain insolence I Thy men are cowards j thou an envious traitor ; 272 THE FIFTH READER. Who, under seeming honesty, hast vented The burden of thy rank, o'erflowing gall. 0, that thou wert my equal ; great in arms As the first Caesar was, that I might kill thee. Without stain to my honor! Veil. You may kill me : You have done more already, — called me traitor. Ant. Art thou not one ? Ven. For showing you yourself Which none else durst have done. But had I been, That name, which I disdain to speak again, I needed not have sought your abject fortunes, Come to partake your fate, to die with you. What hindered me to have led my conquering eagles, To fill Octavius' bands ? I could have been A traitor then — a glorious, happy traitor ! And not have been so called. A?it. Forgive me, soldier; I've been too passionate. Ve7i. You thought me false; Thought my old age betrayed you. Kill me, sir; Pray kill me ; yet you need not — your unkindness Has left your sword no work. A7it. I did not think so; I said it in my rage : pr'ythee, forgive me. Why didst thou tempt my anger, by discovery' Of what I could not hear ? V€7i. No prince but you Could merit that sincerity I used ; Nor durst another man have ventured it. Ant. Thou shalt behold me once again in iron ; And, at the head of our old troops, that beat The Parthiams, cry aloud. Come, follow me ! Ven. O, now I hear my Emperor ! In that word Octavius fell. Methinks you breathe THE FIFTH READER. 273 Another soul ; your looks are most divine ; You speak a hero. A?it. O, thou hast fired me ! my soul's up in arms, And mans each part about me. Once again The noble eagerness of fight has seized me. Come on, my soldier; Our hearts and arms are still the same. I long Once more to meet our foes ; that thou and I, Like Time and Death, marching before our troops, May taste fate to them ; mow them out a passage, And entering where the foremost squadrons yield. Begin the noble harvest of the field. 1 CpN-TA'9io?f. The communication of disease from one person to an- other by contact ; communication of a like quality or feeling:. a VlN'TA(^E. The produce of the vine for the season. » Tri'Ompiis. Processions or ceremo- nies, at Rome, in honor of victori- ous generals. 4 Dj-VORCED'. Separated by a lecral process, as a husband and wii"e; separated or disunited, as things closely connected. 5 Marcii'e§. Frontiers ; borders. 6 Ar'rq-gance. Conceited presump- tion ; haughtiness. 7 Dis-c6v'ER-y. Act of finding out; Aere, disclosure. LXXVIII. — THE DEATH OF THE LITTLE SCHOLAR. Dickens. [This piece is taken from Master Humphrey's Clock. A poor, feehle old man and his little grandchild, Nell, the stay and comfort of his life, are home- less wandertjrs. One evening, in their vranderings, they come to a village, and are oflFered shelter for the night by the schoolmaster.] 1. Without further preface, he conducted them into his little school-room, which was parlor and kitchen like- wise, and told them they were welcome to remain under his roof till morning. The child looked round the room as she took her seat. The chief ornaments of the walls were certain moral sentences, fairly copied in good round text, and well-worked sums in simple addition and multi* 274 THE FIFTH READER. plication, evidently achieved* by the same hand, which were plentifully pasted around the room ; for the double purpose, as it seemed, of bearing testimony to the excel- lence of the school, and kindling a worthy emulation in the bosoms of the scholars. 2. "Yes," said the schoolmaster, observing that her attention was caught by these specimens, " that's beautiful writing, my dear." " Very, sir," replied the child, mod- estly; "is it yours?" "Mine!" he returned, taking out his spectacles, and putting them on, to have a better view of the triumphs so dear to his heart ; " I couldn't write like that nowadays. No : they are all done by one hand ; a little hand it is ; not so old as yours, but a very clever ^ one." 3. As the schoolmaster said this, he saw that a small blot of ink had been thrown upon one of the copies ; so he took a penknife from his pocket, and going up to the wall, carefully scratched it out. When he had finished, he walked slowly backward from the writing, admiring it as one might contemplate' a beautiful picture, but with some- thing of sadness in his voice and manner, which quite touched the child, though she was unacquainted with its cause. 4. " A little hand, indeed," said the poor schoolmaster. "Far beyond all his companions, in his learning and his sports too. How did he ever come to be so fond of me ! That I should love him is no wonder, but that he should love me — " And there the schoolmaster stopped, and took off his spectacles to wipe them, as though they had grown dim. " I hope there is nothing the matter, sir," said Nell, anxiously. 5. " Not much, my dear," returned the schoolmaster ; " I hoped to have seen him on the green to-night. He was always foremost among them. But he'll be there to- morrow." "Has he been ill?" asked the child with a child's quick sympathy. 6. "Not very. They said he was wandering in his THE FIFTH READER. 275 head yesterday, dear boy, and so they said the day before. But that's a part of that kind of disorder; it's not a bad sign — not at all a bad sign." The child was silent. He walked to the door, and looked wistfully out. The shad- ows of night were gathering, and all was still. 7. " If he could lean on somebody's arm, he would come to me, I know," he said, returning into the room. "He always came into the garden to say good night. But per- haps his illness has only just taken a favorable turn, and it's too late for him to come out, for it's very damp, and there's a heavy dew. It's much better he shouldn't come to-night." 8. The next day, towards night, an old woman came tottering up the garden as speedily as she could, and meet- ing the schoolmaster at the door, said he was to go to Dame West's directly, and had best run on before her. He and the child were on the point of going out together for a walk, and without relinquishing her hand, the school- master hurried away, leaving the messenger to follow ag she might. 9. They stopped at a cottage door, and the school- master knocked softly at it with his hand. It was opened without loss of time. They passed into an inner room, where his infant friend, half dressed, lay stretched upon a bed. 10. He was a very young boy; quite a little child. His hair still hung in curls about his face, and his eyes were very bright ; but their light was of heaven, not earth. The schoolmaster took a seat beside him, and stooping over the pillow, whispered his name. The boy sprang up, threw his wasted arms around his neck, crying out that he was his dear, kind friend. 11. "I hope I always was. I meant to be, God knows,'' said the poor schoolmaster. " Who is that ? " said the boy, 276 THE FIFTH READER. seeing Nell. " I am afraid to kiss her, lest I should make her ill. Ask her to shake hands with me." 12. The sobbing child came closer up, and took the little languid hand in hers. Releasing his again after a time, the sick boy laid him gently down. 13. "You remember the garden, Harry," whispered the schoolmaster, anxious to rouse him, for a dulness seemed gathering upon the child, " and how pleasant it used to be in the evening ? You must make haste to visit it again, for I think the very flowers have missed you, and are less gay than they used to be. You will come soon, my dear, very soon now, won't you?" 14. The boy smiled faintly, — so very, very faintly, — and put his hand upon his friend's gray head. He moved his lips, too, but no voice came from them, no, not a sound. In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices, borne upon the evening air, came floating through the open window. 15. "What's that?" said the sick child, opening his eyes. "The boys at play upon the green." He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above his head. But the feeble arm dropped powerless down. "Shall I do it?" said the schoolmaster. 16. " Please wave it at the window," was the faint re- ply. "Tie it to the lattice \ Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they'll think of me, and look this way." 17. He raised his head, and glanced from the fluttering signal to his idle bat, that lay, with slate and book, and other boyish property, upon a table in the room. And then he laid him down softly once more, and asked if the little girl were there, for he could not see her. 18. She stepped forward and pressed the passive hand that lay upon the coverlet. The two old friends and com- panions — for such they w^ere, though they were man and child — held each other in a long embrace, and then the THE FIFTH READER. 277 little scholar turned his face towards the wall, and fell asleep. 19. The poor schoolmaster sat in the same place, hold- ing the small, cold hand in his, and chafing it. It was but the hand of a dead child. He felt that; and yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down. I ^-CHifVED'. Performed; com- pleted; done. I Cl£v'er. Skilful ; dexterous ; able. » C' And spears advanced, and ensigns spread, Rolled slowly towards the bridge's head, "Where stood the dauntless Three. 7. The Three stood calm and silent, and looked upon the foes, And a great shout of laughter from all the vanguard * rose : And forth three chiefs came spurring before that mighty mass ] To earth they sprang, their swords they drew And lifted high their shields, and flew To win the narrow pass ; * Spu'rj-Os LXr't}-vs (-Bhe-fis). t Tlsn'J^-^Jf. THE FIFTH READER. 283 Aunus from green Tifcrnum, Lord of the Hill of Vines; And Seius,* whose eight hundred slaves sicken in Ilva's mines ; And Picus, long to Clusium f vassal in peace and war, Who led to fight his Umbrian powers From that gray crag where, girt with towers, The fortress of Nequinum lowers O'er the pale waves of Nar. 9. Stout Lartius hurled down Annus into the stream beneath ; Herminius struck at Seius, and clove him to the teeth ; At Picus brave Horatius darted one fiery thrust. And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms clashed in the bloody dust. 10. Then Ocnus of Falerii J rushed on the Roman Three ; And Lausulus of Urgo, the rover of the sea ; And Aruns § of Volsinium, who slew the great wild boar, The great wild boar that had his den Amidst the reeds of Cosa's fen, And wasted fields and slaughtered men Along Albinia's shore. 11. Herminius smote down Aruns ; Lartius laid Ocnus low : Right to the heart of Lausulus, Horatius sent a blow. " Lie there," he cried, " fell* pirate ! No more, aghast and pale, From Ostia's walls the crowd shall mark The track of thy destroying bark. No more Campania's hinds* shall fly To ^'oods and caverns when they spy Thy thrice accursed sail." 12. But now no sound of laughter was heard amongst the foes. A wild and wrathful clamor from all the vanguard rose. Six spears' lengths from the entrance halted that deep array, And for a space no man came forth to win the narrow way. • Se'i-Os or SE'jys. f Ci.tJ'?}-OM. X Fj^~i,S.'r\-i. § A'rvn?. 284 THE FIFTH READER. 13. But hark ! the cry is Astur : And lo ! the ranks divide ; And the great Lord of Luna comes, with his stately stride. Upon his ample shoulders clangs loud the fourfold shield, And in his hand he shakes the brand which none but he can wield, 14. He smiled on those bold Romans, a smile serene and high ; He eyed the flinching Tuscans, and scorn was in his eye. Quoth he, •« The she-wolfs litter stand savagely at bay' : But will ye dare to follow, if Astur clears the way ? " 15. Then whirling up his broadsword with both hands to the height, He rushed against Horatius, and smote with all his might. With shield and blade, Horatius right deftly ^ turned the blow. The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh ; It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh : The Tuscans raised a joyful cry To see the red blood flow. 16. He reeled, and on Herminius he leaned one breathing-space ; Then, like a wildcat mad with wounds, sprang right at Astur'a face. Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, so fierce a thrust he sped. The good sword stood a hand-breadth out behind the Tuscan's head, 17. And the great Lord of Luna fell at that deadly stroke. As falls on Mount Alvernus a thunder-smitten oak. * Far o'er the crashing forest the giant arms lie spread ; And the pale augurs ^, muttering low, gaze on the blasted head. 18. On Astur's throat Horatius right firmly pressed his heel, And thrice and four times tugged amain '^, ere he wrenched out the steel. ** And see," he cried, '* the welcome, fair guests, that waits you here 1 What noble Lucumo comes next to taste our Roman cheer ? " THE FIFTH READER. 285 19. But at his haughty challenge a sullen murmur ran, Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread, along that glittering van. There lacked not men of prowess, nor men of lordly race ; For all Etruria's noblest were round the fatal place. 20. But all Etruria's noblest felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the bloody corses, in the path the dauntless Three : And, from the ghastly entrance where those bold Romans stood, All shrank, like boys who, unaware, ranging the woods to start a hare, Come to the mouth of the dark lair, where, growling low, a fierce old bear Lies amidst bones and blood. 21. But meanwhile axe and lever have manfully been plied, And now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide. •'Come back, come back, Horatius ! " loud cried the Fathers'^ all. •• Back, Lartius ! back, Herminius ! back ere the ruin fall !" 22. Back darted Spurius Lartius ; Herminius darted back : And, as they passed, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack. But when they turned their faces, and on the farther shore Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed once more, 23. But with a crash like thunder fell every loosened beam. And, like a dam, the mighty wreck lay right athwart '^ the stream: And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops was splashed the yellow foam. 24. Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind ; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind. " Down with him ! " cried false Sextus, with a smile on his paleface " Now yield thee," cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our grace." 25. Round turned he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see ; Naught spake he to Lars Porsena, to Sextus naught spake he | 286 THE FIFTH READER. But he saw on Palatinus * the white porch of his home ; And he spake to the noble river that rolls by the towers of Rome. 26. •• O Tiber ! father Tiber ! to whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day !" So he spake, and speaking, sheathed the good sword by his side, And, with his harness on his back, plunged headlong in the tide. 27o No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank; But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, With parted lips and straining eyes, Stood gazing where he sank ; And when above the surges they saw his crest appear, All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry, And even the ranks of Tuscany Could scarce forbear to cheer. 28. But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain ; And fast his blood was flowing ; and he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows : And oft they thought him sinking, but still again he rose. 29. And now he feels the bottom ; now on dry earth he stands, Now round him throng the Fathers to press his gory hands ; And now with shouts and clapping, and noise of weeping loud, He enters through the River-gate, borne by the joyous crowd. 1 C6n'sul,. One of the two chief mag'- istrates of the ancient Eoman re- public. 2 QudTii. Said. 8 DXuNT'LEss. Incapable of being intimidated ; fearless. 4 VXrj'GUARD, That part of an army which g'oes before the main body on a march, to guard against a sur- prise. 6 FELL. Cruel } inhuman. 6 Hind. A coimtryman ; a rustic 5 also, the female of the red deer. 7 Bay. The state of being' obliged to face one's enemies, through im possibility of escape. 8 DiiFT'LY. Dexterously. 9 Au'GVR. A soothsayer. 10 A-main'. Violently ; with might. 11 Fath'er§. Members of the Roman senate. 12 A-thwArt'. Across ; transverse ta PAL-iji-Ti'NVs. Palatine, one of the seven hills of Rome. THE FIFTH READER. 287 LXXXII. — PETER THE GREAT. Macaulay. [Peter the First, Czar of Russia, commonly called Peter the Great, was born in 1G72, and died in 1725. lie was a man of remarkable ability, both as a states- man and a warrior. Through his efforts for the civilization of his people, his internal improvements, and his conquests in war, Russia emerged from a posi' tion of comparative obscurity to one in the first rank among the nations of the world. Peter the Great visited London in 1G98, in the reign of William III.] 1. Ox the 10th of January a vessel from Holland an- chored off Greenwich,* and was welcomed with great respect. Peter the First, Czar of Muscovy,t was on board. He took boat with a few attendants, and was rowed up the Thames | to Norfolk Street, where a house overlooking the river had been prepared for his reception. His journey is an epoch* in the history not only of his own country, but of oui-s, and of the world. To the polished nations of Western Europe, the empire which he governed had till then been what Bokhara § or Siam || is to us. That empire, indeed, though less extensive than at present, was the most extensive that had ever obeyed a single chief. 2. On the Baltic, Russia had not then a single port. Her maritime* trade with the other nations of Christen- dom was entirely carried on at Archangel, ^ a place which had been created and was supported by adventurers from our island. In the days of the Tudors, ** a ship from Eng- land, seeking a north-east passage to the land of silk and spice, had discovered the White Sea. The barbarians who dwelt on the shores of that dreary gulf had never before * Pronounces? Gren 'J J. f MOs'cQ-VY. A name sometimes applied to Russia. X Pronounced Tfiiviz. § B6k-hX.'rX. a state of Central Asia. II Si-Am'. An extensive kingdom in the south-east of Asia. H" ARiEH-AN'^Et,. A seaport town in the northern part of Russia. ** The Tudor dynasty of English sovereigns began with Henry VIT. (pro- claimed king in 1485), the son of Edmund Tudor, and ended with Queen Eliza- beth, who died in 1603. 288 THE FIFTH READER. seen such a portent^ as a vessel of a hundred and sixty tons burden. They fled in terror; and, when they were pursued and overtaken, prostrated themselves before the chief of the strangers, and kissed his feet. He succeeded in opening a friendly communication with them, and from that time there had been a regular commercial intercourse between our country and the subjects of the Czar. 3. The commercial intercourse between England and Russia made some diplomatic" intercourse necessary. The diplomatic intercourse, however, was only occasional. Three or four times in a century extraordinary embassies'* were sent from Whitehall * to the Kremlin, f and from the Kremlin to Whitehall. The English embassies had histo- rians, whose nan-atives uiay still be read with interest. Those historians described vividly, and sometimes bitterly, the savage ignorance and the squalid* poverty of the bar- barous country in which they had sojourned'. In that country, they said, there was neither literature nor sci- ence, neither school nor college. The best educated men could barely read and write. The arithmetic was the arithmetic of the Dark Ages. Even in the imperial treas- ury the computations were made by the help of balls strung on wires. 4. Round the person of the sovereign there was a blaze of gold and jewels; but even in his most splendid palaces were to be found the filth and misery of an Irish cabin- So late as the year 1663 the gentlemen of the re^mue ^ of the Earl of Carlisle were, in the city of Moscow, thrust into a single bed-room, and were told that, if they did not remain together, they would be in olanger of being de- voured by rats. * Whitehall' was a celebrated palace in London, for a long time the prin- cipal residence of Eng-lish sovereig-ns. t The KkEm'ljn is the central part and most elevated site of the city of Mos- cow (formerly the capital of llussia), of which it formed the original nucleus. It is separated from the rest of the city by a high wall, and contains the most important public edifices. THE FIFTH READER. 289 5. Our ancestors, therefore, were not a little surprised to learn that a young barbarian, who had, at seventeen years of age, become the autocrat of the immense region stretching from the confines of Sweden to those of China, and whose education had been inferior to that of an Eng- lish farmer or siiopman, had planned gigantic improve- ments, had learned enough of some languages of Western Europe to enable him to communicate with civilized men, had begun to surround himself with able adventurers from various parts of the world, had sent many of his young subjects to study languages, arts, and sciences in foreign cities, and, finally, had determined to travel as a private man, and to discover, by personal observation, the secret of the immense prosperity and power enjoyed by some communities whose whole territory was far less than the hundredth part of his dominions. 6. Ilis empire was of all empires the least capable of being made a great naval power. On the ocean he had only a single port — Archangel ; and the whole shipping of Archangel was foreign. There did not exist a Russian vessel larger than a fishing-boat. Yet, from some cause, which cannot now be traced, he had a taste for maritime pursuits which amounted to a passion, indeed almost to a monomania^. His imagination was full of sails, yard-arms, and rudders. That large mind, equal to the highest duties of the general and the statesman, contracted itself to the most minute details of naval architecture and naval disci- pline. The chief ambition of the great conqueror and legislator was to be a good boatswain and a good ship's carpenter. 7. He repaired to Amsterdam, took a lodging in the dockyard, assumed the garb of a pilot, put down his name on the list of workmen, wielded with his own hand the calking-iron and the mallet, fixed the pumps, and twisted the ropes. Ambassadors, who came to pay their respects 25 290 THE FIFTH READER. to him, were forced, much against their will, to clamloer ap the rigging of a man-of-war, and found hitn enthroned on the cross-trees. 8. Such was tlie prince whom the populace of London now crowded to behold. Ilis stately form, his intellectual forehead, his piercing black eyes, his Tartar nose and mouth, his gracious smile, his frown, black with all the Btorray rage and hate of a barbarian tyrant, and, above all, a strange nervous convulsion which sometimes transformed his countenance, during a few moments, into an object on which it was impossible to look without terror, the immense quantities of meat which he devoured, the pints of brandy which he swallowed, the fool who jabbered at his feet, the monkey whidi grinned at the back of his chair, — were, during some weeks, popular topics of conversation. 9. lie, meanwhile, shunned the public gaze with a haughty shyness which inflamed curiosity. He went to a play; but, as soon as he perceived that pit, boxes, and galleries were staring, not at the stage, but at him, he retired to a back bench, where he was screened from ob- servation by his attendants. He was desirous to see a sitting of the House of Lords; but, as he was deter- mined not to be seen, he was forced to climb up to the leads, and to peep through a small window. 10. William judiciously humored the whims of his illus- trious guest, and stole to Norfolk Street, so quietly that nobody in the neighborhood recognized his majesty in the thin gentleman who got out of the modest-looking coach at the Czar's lodgings. The Czar returned the visit with the same precautions, and was admitted into Kensington House by a back door. It was afterwards known that he took no notice of the fine pictures with which the palace was adorned. But over the chimney of the royal sitting- room was a plate which, by an ingenious machinery, indi- cated the direction of the wind, and with this plate he was in raptures. THE FIFTH READER. 291 11. He soon became weary of his residence. He found that he was too far from the objects of his curiosity, and too near to the crowds to wliich he was himself an object of curiosity. He accordingly removed to Deptford, and was there lodged in the house of John Evelyn, a house which had long been a favorite resort of men of letters, men of taste, and men of science. Here Peter gave him- self up to his favorite pursuits. He navigated a yacht'"' every day, up and down the river. His apartment was crowded with models of three-deckers and two-deckers, frigates, sloops, and fire-ships'*. 12. But Evelyn does not seem to have formed a favor- able opinion of his august'^ tenant. It was, indeed, not in the character of tenant that the Czar was likely to gain the good word of civilized men. With all the high quali- ties which were peculiar to himself, he had all the filthy habits which were then common among his countrymen. To the end of his life, while disciplining armies, founding schools, framing codes, organizing tribunals, building cities in deserts, joining distant seas by artificial rivers, he lived in his palace like a hog in a sty. Evelyn's house was left in such a state that the Treasury quieted his complaints with a considerable sum of money. 13. Towards the close of March the Czar visited Ports- mouth, saw a sham sea-fight at Spithead, watched every movement of the contending fleets with intense interest, and expressed in warm terms his gratitude to the hospi- table government which had provided so delightful a spectacle for his amusement and instruction. After passing more than three months in England, he departed in high good humor. 1 Sp'PjBH (ep'ok, or S'polcV A point of time made remarkable by some event, and from which dates ara Bometimes computed. 2 MXR'i-TiaiE. Relating' to the sea; marine. 3 Por-tent'. An omen of ill. 4 Dip-ly. Harmony of ming-led sounds ; a musical composition for a full bind of instruments. * R^-ver-b^r-a'tiqn. Act of beat- ing- back, as sound ; echo ; sound beaten back. 6 Te-P-cAl'lis. Buildings in the form of pyramids, erected for religious worship by the ancient Mexicans. 7 B?-LEA'GUERED. Besieged. 8 Di-A-PA'^QN. A chord which in- eludes all the tones ; the compass of a voice or an instrument. LXXXV. — THE WHITE-HEADED EAGLE. Alexander Wilsox. 1. Formed by nature for braving the severest cold; feeding equally on the produce of the sea and of the land ; possessing powers of flight capable of outstripping even the tempests themselves ; unawed by any thing but man ; and, from the ethereal' heights to which he soars, looking abroad, at one glance, on an immeasurable expanse of for- ests, fields, lakes, and ocean below him, the white-headed eagle appears indifferent to the change of seasons, as, in a few minutes, he can pass from summer to winter, from the lower to the higher regions of the atmosphere, — the abode of eternal cold, — and thence descend, at will, to the torrid, or to the arctic regions of the earth. He is, there- fore, found at all seasons in the countries he inhabits, but from the great partiality he has for fish, he prefers to live near the ocean. 2. In procuring fish, he displays, in a very singular manner, the genius and energy of his character, which is fierce, contemplative'', daring, and tyrannical — attributes exerted only on particular occasions, but when put forth, overpowering all opposition. Elevated on the high dead limb of some gigantic tree that commands a wide view of the neighboring shore and ocean, he seems calmly to con- template the motions of the various feathered tribes that THE FIFTH READER. 297 pursue their busy avocations below, — the snow-white gul^ slowly winnowing^ the air ; the busy shore-birds, coursing* along the sands; trains of ducks, streaming over the sur- face; silent and watchful cranes, intent and wading; clamorous crows, and all the winged multitudes that sub* sist by the bounty of this vast liquid magazine^ of Nature* 3. High over all these hovers one whose action instantly arrests his whole attention. By his wide curvature of wing, and sudden suspension in air, he knows him to be the fish-hawk, settling over some devoted victim of the deep. His eye kindles at the sight, and, balancing him- self, with half-opened wings, on the branch, he watches the result. 4. Down, rapid as an arrow from heaven, descends the distant object of his attention, the roar of its wings reaching the ear as it disappears in the deep, making the surges foam around. At this moment the watchful eagle is all ardor; and, leveUing his neck for flight, he sees the fish-hawk emerge, struggling with his prey, and mount- ing in the air with screams of exultation. 5. These are the signal for our hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, and soon gains on the fish-hawk ; each exerts his utmost to mount above the other, displaying in these rencounters® the most elegant and Bublime aerial '' evolutions. The unencumbered eagle rap- idly advances, and is just on the point of reaching his opponent, when, with a sudden scream, probably of de- spair and honest execration", the latter drops his fish; the eagle, poising® himself for a moment, as if to take a more certain aim, descends like a whirlwind, snatches it in his grasp ere it reaches the water, and bears his ill-gotten booty silently away to the woods. » Jgl-THE'RE-AL. EcLititig to ether, or tne refined air supposed to occupy the heavenly space above the at- moppTierp : here, far above the surface of the earth. 2 CQN-TfiM'PL^-TlVE, ThoUghtful 298 THE FIFTH RExiDER. i WKn n5w-ing. Beating with wing-s. * CduRS'iNG. Running-, f MXg-a-zine'. a store-house. J IIen-coOnt'er. a meeting in con- test i a casual combat. " A e'ki-al. Belonging to the air. 8 £x-E CRA'TiQN. A declaration of a wish of evil against some one; malediction ; curse. Pol§'iNG. Balancing. LXXXVL— THE SCHOLAR'S MISSION. George Putxam. [Rev. George Putnam, D. D., was born in Sterling, Massachusetts, in 1807. He was graduated at Harvard University in 182<), and in 1829 was settled over the First Congregational Church in Koxbury. Tlie following extract is from an oration before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard.] 1. The wants of our time and country, the constitution of our modern society, our whole position, personal and relative, forbid a life of mere scholarship or literary pur- suits to the great majority of those who go out from our colleges. However it may have been in other times and other lands, here and now but few of our educated men are privileged " From the loopholes of retreat To look upon the world, to hear the sound Of the great Babel, and not feel its stir." 2. Society has work for us, and we must go forth to do it. Full early and hastily we must gird on the manly gown,* gather up the loose leaves and scanty fragments of our youthful lore, and go out among men, to act with them and for them. It is a practical age ; and our wisdom, such as it is, " must strive and cry, and utter her voice in the streets, standing in the places of the paths, crying in the chief place of concourse', at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doors." 3. This state of things, though not suited to the tastes * Tlie toga mrilis (manly gown) was put on by the young men of Rome cm coming to maturity. THE FIFTH EEADER. 299 and qualities of all, is not, on the whole, to be regretted by educated men as such. It is not in literary production only, or chiefly, that educated mind finds fit expression, and fulfils its mission in honor and beneficence'. In the great theatre of the world's aff*airs there is a worthy and. a sufficient sphere. Society needs the well-trained, en- larged, and cultivated intellect of the scholar in its midst ; needs it, and welcomes it, and gives it a place, or, by its own capacity, it will take a place of honor, influence, and power. 4. The youthful scholar has no occasion to deplore the fate that is soon to tear him from his studies, and cast him into the swelling tide of life and action. None of his disciplinary^ and enriching culture will be lost, or useless, even there. Every hour of study, every truth he has reached, and the toilsome process by which he reached it; the heightened grace, or vigor of thought or speech he has acquired, — all shall tell fully, nobly, if he will give heed to the conditions. And one condition — the prime one — is, that he be a true man, and recognize the obligation of a man, and go forth with heart, and will, and every gift and acquirement dedicated, lovingly and resolutely, to the true and the right. These are the terms: and apart from these there is no success, no influence to be had, which an ingenuous mind can desire, or which a sound and far-seeing mind would dare to ask. 5. Indeed, it is not an easy thing, nay, it is not a pos- sible thing, to obtain a substantial success and an abiding influence, except on these terms. A factitious* popularity, a transient notoriety, or, in the case of shining talents, the doom of a damning /ame, may fall to bad men. But an honored name, enduring influence, a sun brightening on through its circuit, more and more, even to its serene setting — this boon of a true success goes never to intel- lectual qualities alone. It gravitates ° slowly, but surely, 300 THE FIFTH READER. to weight of character, to intellectual ability rooted in principle. 1 CoN'couRSE (kong'kors). The com- ing together of many porsous or things ; a flocking together. > B¥-n£f'|-c£nce. Active goodness. • Dls'cj-PLj-NVRV. Relating to disci- pline, or to a regular course of edu- cation. 4 Fac-tI"tiovs. Unnatural; made by art; artificial. 6 GeAv'i-tates. Is attracted. LXXXVIL— THE BATTLE FIELD. Bryant. [William CuUen Bryant was born in Cummington, Massachusetts, November 3, 17U4. He has resided for many years in or near the city of New York. His poetry is distinguished for its high finish, its lofty moral tone, and its admirft^ ble descriptions of American scenery. J 1. Once this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, And fiery hearts and armed hands Encountered in the battle-cloud. 2. Ah, never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave. Gushed, warm with hope and valor yet, Upon the soil they fought to save. 3. Now all is calm, and fresh, and still ; Alone the chirp of flitting bird. And talk of children on the hill. And bell of wandering kine ', are heard. 4. No solemn host goes trailing by The black-mouthed gun and staggering wain'; Men start not at the battle-cry ; — O, be it never hefird again ! THE FIFTH READER. 301 6. Soon rested those who fought ; but thou, Wlio minglest in the harder strife For truths which men receive not now, — Thy warfare only ends with life. 6. A friendless warfare ! lingering long Through weary day and weary year; A wild and many-weaponed throng Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear. 7. Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, And blench not at thy chosen lot ! The timid good may stand aloof, The sage may frown — yet faint thou not ! 8. Nor heed the shaft too surely cast. The hissing, stinging bolt of scorn, For with thy side shall dwell at last The victory of endurance born. 9. Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again ; The eternal years of. God are hers ; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers. 10. Yea, though thou lie upon the dust. When those who helped thee flee in fear, — Die full of hope and manly trust. Like those who fell in battle here. 11. Another hand thy sword shall wield ^ Another hand the standard wave, Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed* The blast of triumph o'er thy grave ! 1 KiNE. Cows. I 3 Wield, Use with the hand ; handle * Wain. A wagon. J 4 PEaled. Kung j sounded loudly. 26 302 THE FIFTH EEADER. LXXXVIII. — THE DEATH SCENE IN ION. Talfourd. [Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd, an English writer, lawyer, and judge, was born in 1795, and died in 1854. He was made a judge of the Court of Common Pleag in 1849. He was the author of several dramatic poems, and of a biography of Charles Lamb. His plays are characterized by smooth versification, high- toned sentiment, and abundant imagery. The following is tlie closing scene of " Ion," the most popular of his dramas, the plot of which is taken from the mythology of ancient Greece. Ion is introduced in the beginning of the phiy, as a youtli in attendance upon a temple of Apollo in Argos, of which Medon is high priest. Argos is wasted by a pestilence, which the oracle h;is declared will not cease till the line of the reigning king, Adrastus, shall have become ex- tinct. Ion' proves to be the son of Adrastus; and having assumed tlie crown upon the death of the latter, devotes himself to self-destruction for his coun- try's sake. Clemanthe is the daughter of Medon, and Phocion is his son. The other characters are sages and soldiers of Argos. J The Procession. Enter Medon, Agenor, Phocion, Timocles, Cleon, Sages, and People — Ion, last, in royal robes. He advances amidst shouts. Ion. I thank you for your greeting. — Shout no more, But in deep silence raise your hearts to Heaven, That it may strengthen one so young and frail As I am, for the business of this hour. Must I sit here ? Medon. Permit thy earliest friend, Who has so often propped thy tottering steps, To lead thee to thy throne, — and thus fulfil His fondest vision. Ion. Thou art still most kind — Medon. Nay, do not think of me. — My son ! my son ! What ails thee ? When thou shouldst reflect the joy Of Argos, the strange paleness of the grave Marbles thy face. Ion. Am I indeed so pale ? It is a solemn office I assume ; Yet thus, with Phcebus' * blessing, I embrace it. [Sits on the throne" Stand forth, Agenor ! f * Phcebus. Another name for Apollo, one of the ancient heathen deities, t Pronounced ^-*5'n9r. THE FIFTH READER. 303 Agenor. I await thy will. Ion. To thee I look as to the wisest friend Of this afflicted people. Thou must leave Awhile the quiet which thy life hath earned, To rule our councils ; fill the seats of justice With good men, — not so absolute in goodness, As to forget what human frailty is ; — And order my sad country. Agen. Pardon me — Ion. Nay, I will promise 'tis my last request : Thou never couldst deny me what I sought In boyish wantonness ^, and shall not grudge Thy wisdom to me, till our state revive From its long anguish. It will not be long If Heaven approve me here. Thou hast all power, Whether I live or die. Agen. Die ! I am old — Ion. Death is not jealous of thy mild decay, Which gently wins thee his ; exulting Youth Provokes the ghastly monarch's sudden stride. And makes his horrid fingers quick to clasp His shivering prey at noontide. Let me see The captain of the guard. Crythes. I kneel to crave Humbly the favor which thy sire bestowed On one who loved him well. Ion. I cannot thank thee. That wak'st the memory of my father's weakness ; But I will not forget that thou hast shared The light enjoyments of a noble spirit, And learned the need of luxury. I grant For thee and thy brave comrades, ample share Of such rich treasures as my stores contain, To grace thy passage to some distant land, Where, if an honest cause engage thy sword, 304 THE FIFTH READER. May glorious laurels wreath it ! In our realm, We shall not need it longer. Cry. Dost intend To banish the firm troops before whose valor Barbarian millions shrink appalled, and leave Our city naked to the first assault Of reckless foes ! Ion. No, Crythes ! In ourselves, In our own honest hearts and chainless hands, "Will be our safeguard. — While we seek no use Of arms we would not have our children blend With their first innocent wishes ; while the love Of Argos and of justice shall be one To their young reason ; while their sinews grow Firm 'midst the gladness of heroic sports, — We shall not ask, to guard our country's peace. One selfish passion, or one venaP sword. I would not grieve thee; but thy valiant troop — For I esteem them valiant — must no more, With luxury which suits a desperate camp, Infect us. See that they embark, Agenor, Ere night. Cry. My lord — Ion. No more — my word hath passed. Medon, there is no office I can add To those thou hast grown old in. — Thou wilt guard The shrine of Phoebus, and within thy home — Thy too delightful home — befriend the stranger As thou didst me. — There sometimes waste a thought On thy spoiled inmate ! 3fecion, Think of thee, my lord ? Long shall we triumph in thy glorious reign — Io7i. Prithee 3 no more. Argives,* I have a boon To crave of you. — Whene'er I shall rejoin * AR'9iVE§. lahabitants of Argos. THE FIFTH READER. 305 In death the father from whose heart in life Stern fate divided me, think gently of him! For ye, who saw him in his full-blown pride, Knew little of aifections crushed within, And wrongs which frenzied * him ; yet never more Let the great interests of the state depend Upon the thousand chances that may sway A piece of human frailty ! Swear to me That ye will seek hereafter in yourselves The means of sovereign rule. — Our narrow space, So happy in its confines, so compact, Needs not the magic of a single name Which wider regions may require to draw Tlieir interests into one ; but, circled thus, Like a blessed family, by simple laws. May tenderly be governed ; all degrees Moulded together as a single form Of nymph-like loveliness, which finest chords Of sympathy pervading shall sufifuse *, In times of quiet, with one bloom, and fill With one resistless impulse, if the hosts Of foreign power should threaten. Swear to me That ye will do this ! Medon, Wherefore ask this now ? Thou shalt live long! The paleness of thy face Which late appalled me, is grown radiant now, And thine eyes kindle with the prophecy Of lustrous* years. Ton. The gods approve me, then ! Yet will I use the function '' of a king. And claim obedience. Promise, if I leave No issue ^, that the sovereign power shall live In the affections of the general heart, And in the wisdom of the best. Medon and others. [Kneeling.]; We swear it ! 2G* 306 THE FIFTH READER. Ion. Hear and record the oath, Immortal Powers/ Now give me leave a moment to approach That altar, unattended. [He goes to the altar. Gracious gods ! In whose mild service my glad youth was spent, Look on me now; and if there is a Power, — As at this solemn time I feel there is, — Beyond ye, that hath breathed through all your shapes The spirit of the beautiful that lives In earth and heaven, — to ye I offer up This conscious being, full of life and love, For my dear country's welfare. Let this blow End all her SOITOWS ! [Stabs himself and falls. Ctesiphos rushes to support him. Enter iRirs. Irus, I bring you glorious tidings — Ha! no joy Can enter here. Ion, Yes — is it as I hope ? Irus. The pestilence abates. Ion. [Springs on his feet.] Do yc not hear ? Why shout ye not ? — Ye are strong — think not of me. Hearken ! The curse my ancestry had spread O'er Argos, is dispelled. Agenor, give This gentle youth his freedom, who hath brought Sweet tidings that I shall not die in vain ! — And, Medon ! cherish him as thou hast one Who, dying, blesses thee. — My own Clemanthe ! Let this console thee also — Argos lives — The offering is accepted — All is well ! [Dies. 1 Wan'ton-n£ss (won-). Sportivcness; negligence of restraint. 2 Ve'nal. That may be bought ana sold ; hireling. PrIth'ee. a corruption of pray t FrEn'zied. Affected with madness. 5 Svf-fu§e'. Overspread as with a vapor, fluid or color. 6 LOs'TRoys. Bright; shining. T FrjNC'TiQN, OflSce; faculty. 8 Is'sVE (is'shy). Offspring j children THE FIFTH READER. 307 LXXXIX. — NATIONAL MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON. WlNTHROP. [Robert Charles Winthrop is a native and resident of Boston. He was for sev- eral years a member of the House of Representatives in Congress, and Speaker of the House from December, 1847, to March, 1849. In 185G, he served for a short time in the Senate of the United States, by appointment of tlie Governor of Massachusetts. During his public life he was a leading member of the Whig party. The following piece is taken from an oration delivered by him, July 4, 1848, on the occasion of laying the corner-stone of the National Monument to Washington.] 1. Fellow-Citizens of the United States: We are assembled to take the first step towards the fulfilment of a long deferred obligation. In this eight and fortieth year since his death, we have come together to lay the corner- stone of a national monument to Washington. 2. Other monuments to this illustrious person, have, long ago, been erected. By not a few of the great States of our Union, by not a few of the great cities of our states, the chiselled statue, or the lofty column, has been set up in his honor. The highest art of the Old World — of France, of Italy, and of England, successively — has been put in requisition for the purpose. Houdon * for Vir- ginia, Canovaf for North Carolina, Sir Francis Chantrey J for Massachusetts, have severally signalized their genius by portraying and perpetuating the form and features of the Father of his Country. 3. One tribute to his memory is left to be rendered. One monument remains to be reared, — a monument which shall bespeak the gratitude, not of states, or of cities, or of governments ; not of separate communities, or of ofiicial bodies, but of the people, the whole people of the nation, — a National Monument, erected by the citizens of the United States of America. * H6u'dv ]yTT7>T of that great triumph, the blesscv. -atness as wide spreading as the earth, and u 7. All these things commanded n.^tncky^nmi^^eidtoaH^ world, and stamped upon his life and character. Dosti takable impress of true ejreatness. More subliin°*\ . ... ™seL these, more holy and beautiful, was his abiding c', wa- in God, and in the final triumph of truth and ri^''' ness through him and for his sake. The friends erty and the Union will repair to his consecrated'* gheiiea through ages yet to come, to pronounce the memory of its occupant blessed, and to gather from his ashes and the rehearsal of his virtues fresh incentives to patriotism, and there renew their vows of fidelity to their country and their God. 1 Ra'di-ance. Sparkling lustre. 8 Ad-M}n-!s-tra'ti9N. Government of public affairs. » MIs'siQN. Duty on wliich one is sent ; also, persons sent to perform any service. 4 rER-Ti-NA^'i-TY. Constancy; stead- iness. 5 Cl'ti-mate. Final ; last. c im-mu'ta-ble. Unchangeable. 7 Ster'ling. Genuine; true. 8 Con's5-crat-ed. Made sacred. CXVI. — CLARIBEL'S PRAYER. Lynde Palmer. The day, with cold, gray feet, clung shivering to the hills. While o'er the valley still night's rain- fringed curtains fell > But "vvaking Blue Eyes smiled, " 'Tis ever as God wills ; He knoweth best ; and be it rain or shine, 'tis well. Praise God ! " cried always little Claribel. Then sank she on her knees, with eager, lifted hands ; Her rosy lips made haste some dear request to tell : •' O Father, smile, and save this fairest of all lands, And make her free, whatever hearts rebel. -'y tnO Amen ! Praise God ! " cried little Claribel. aimed in 368 THE FIFTH READER. heard. The answer shines forth wi^v^f ^^"^S P^^y^^. - - . , - .-X of shot and shell. in the whole course and ten-^,^ ^^^^.^^ streaming hair, its commencement to its fvveet eyes I love so well. 3. God raised him ^ He furnished him fr.t that when the glorious fight is done, C0mi)Ushment "-fiinson sky the shouts of Freedom swell, . T .^t there be no nobler victor 'neath the sun ' ' lan he whose golden hair I love so well. to these^^en ! Praise God ! " cried little Claribel. in an c of tru^^en gray and dreary day shook hands with grayer night, of Gr '^^^ heavy air was thrilled with clangor of a bell, r. " O, shout ! " the herald cried, his worn eyes brimmed with light : •» 'Tis victory ! O, what glorious news to tell ! " " Praise God ! He heard my prayer," cried Claribel. 6. " But, pray you, soldier, was my brother In the fight ? And in the fiery rain ? O, fought he brave and well ? " «« Dear child," the herald cried, " there was no braver sight Than his young form, so grand 'mid shot and shell." ♦' Praise God ! " cried trembling little Claribel. 6. " And rides he now with victor's plumes of red. While trumpets' golden tluroats his coming steps foretell ? " The herald dropped a tear. " Dear child," he softly said, " Thy brother evermore with conquerors shall dwell." «« Praise God ! He heard my prayer," cried Claribel. 7. " With victors wearing crowns, and bearing palms" he said. A snow of sudden fear upon the rose lips fell. " O, sweetest herald, say my brother lives" she plead. «* Dear child, he walks with angels, who in strength excel. Praise God, who gave this glory, Claribel." t. The cold, gray day died sobbing on the weary hills. While bitter mourning on the night wind rose and fell. <* O, child," — the herald wept, — " 'tis as the dear Lord wills: He knoweth best, and, be it life or death, 'tis well" " Amen ! Praise God ! " sobbed little Claribel. devoi. THE FIFTH EEADx 373 ■'•. must and will CXVIL — OBEDIENCE TO LAW . OF GOOD MEN. J. HOLT. ^^*°^««' [Joseph IIoU was born in Breckenrldge county, Kentucky, in 1807. aeld to aV' practice of tlie law in 1828. Upon the accession of Mr. Buchanan to ♦ he was appointed commissioner of patents, and in 1859 became posti In December, 1860, ho was made secretary of war, and held the office unti March. Returning to his native state of Kentucky, he devoted himseh energy and ardor to the cause of the Union. In September, 1862, he wa- judge-advocate general of the army, which office he has held ever since. T- is an extract from a speech delivered at Louisville, Kentucky, July 13, Ibi. . 1. With the curled lip of scorn we are told by theiiea unionists, that, in thus supporting a republican admimv tration in its endeavors to uphold the constitution and the laws, we are " submissionists ; " and when they have pro- nounced this word, they suppose they have imputed to us the sum of all human abasement. Well, let it be con- fessed, we are " submissionists," and, weak and spiritless as it may be deemed by some, we glory in the position we occupy. 2. The law says, "Thou shalt not swear falsely:" we submit to this law ; and while in the civil or military ser- vice of the country, with an oath to support the constitu- tion of the United States resting upon our consciences, w& would not, for any earthly consideration, engage in the formation or execution of a conspiracy to subvert that very constitution, and with it the government to which it has given birth. Write us down, therefore, "submission- ists." 8. Nor are we at all disturbed by the flippant * taunt, that, in thus submitting to the authority of our govern- ment, we are necessarily cowards. We know whence this taunt comes, and we estimate it at its true value. We hold that there is a higher courage in the performance of duty than in the commission of crime. The tigerjy the oalmed in QQQ THE FIFTH HEADER. 1 ^ 1 rriu^ « ' cannibal of the South Sea Islands have heard. 1 be an , . ^ , , . . ,> , t t • +1 ^ , 1. 1 -ii which the revolutionists oi the day make in the whole, , , . n r^ ^ ^ ^ • . ^ .lal boast ; the angels oi God and the spirits of Its comrn '^ , r. , , T -.1 , q aen made periect have had, and have, that courage -ry *> submits to the law. •,. cifer was a non-submissionist, and the first scces- complis ^ , , . , . , oi whom history has given us any account; and the J '^ which he wears fitly express the fate due to all who y defy the laws of their Creator and of their country. r> . . belled because the Almighty would not yield to hiin n ^tiroue of heaven. The principle of the southern re- rilion is the same. Indeed, in this submission to the laws is found the chief distinction between good men and devils. A good man obeys the laws of truth, of honesty, of morality, and all those laws which have been enacted by competent authority for the government and protection of the country in which he lives ; a devil obeys only his own ferocious and profligate passions. 5. The principle on which this rebellion proceeds — that laws have in themselves no sanctions, no binding force upon the conscience, and that every man, under the promptings of interest, or passion, or caprice, may at will, and honorably, too, strike at the government that shelters him — is one of utter demoralization^, and should be trodden out as you would tread out a spark that has fallen on the roof of your dwelling. Its unchecked prevalence would resolve society into chaos, and leave you Mdthout the slightest guarantee* for life, liberty, or property. 6. It is time, that, in their majesty \ the people of the United States should make known to the world that this government, in its dignity and power, is something more than a moot-court ^, and that the citizen who makes war upon it is a traitor, not only in theory, but in fact, and ^' ^d have meted out to him a traitor's doom. The THE FIFTH READER. 373 country wants no bloody sacrifice, but it must and will have peace, cost what it may. iFlTp'p^ut. Pert; inconsiderate, 2 JCn'gle. Athicketof shrubs, reeds, or hif^h grass. 8 D?-MOR-AL-i-ZA'Tipx. Deprivation of morals. 4 GuAr-an TEE'. Seeiiri+Y. 5 MAj'es Ty. Sovereign greatness, power. 6 M66t'-c5urt. a court held to as^' gue imaginary cases. CXVIIL — OUR HEROES. John A. Andrew. [John Albion Andrew was born in Windham, Maine, May 31, 1818, and die t(-fr' '"■>■* ^^n^^.w; :r^ f ;f'i»!illilli~ t y I.: -f ... :A t ¥0 '% -nt Sj^: y-4^'tl ''.[■■':J:$y[ ...■ V'"- ^'^' ^,:.^. 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