.Axrv^ tm. < Wkif € -:i CONTENTS. ^''^V rc-aJt- Prbfacb Page 9 Part i. Rules of Elocution. — Analysis of the Voice 13 Quality of the Voice. — Roundness. . 14 Smoothness 15}" Versatility 17 True Pitch 18 , Due Loudness 19 ' Moderate ' Force, ' Declamatory ' Force, ' Empassioned ' Force. . . 20 Distinct Articulation 21 Correct Pronunciation 22 True Time 23 Exercises on Time 21 Appropriate Pauses 2-') Rules for Rhetorical Pauses. . . .26 Right Emphasis. — Rules on Emphastis. 2S Correct Inflections 30 Rules on the Rising Inflection. . . 32 " " Falling Inflection. . .34 " both Inflectiona In connexion. 36 Rule on the Circumflex or Wave. . 38 " " Monotone. . . .39 " " Harmonic Inflections. 39 " " Repeated Words. . .40 Exercises on the Rising Inflection. . 40 " " Falling Inflection. .43 " both Inflections in connexion: 51 Just Stress,— Radical Stress* . . .54 Explosion,— Expulsion, — Median Stress, — Effusion 55 Suppression, — Vanishing Stress. . 56 Compound Stress 56 Thorough Stress, — Intermitted Stress, or Tremor 57 Expressive Tones 53 Key to the Notation of Expressive Tone 59 Rules on Expressive Tone. . . .60 Appropriate Modulation. ... 72 Part II. Pieces for Practice in Reading and Declamation 75 Less. I. Paul's defence before Festus and Agrippa 75 2. Cultivation of the Mind S. Rebd. 76 3. Physical Education Dr. Humphrey. 78 4. Self Education D. A. White. 79 ,5. True Eloquence Daniel Webster. 81 6. Industry indispensable to the Orator. ..... H. Ware, Jr. 82 7. Genius Orville Dewby. 83 8. Antiquity of Freedom W. C. Bryant. 85 9. Sunrise on the Hills H. W. .Longfellow. 86 10. The Christian Character *. E. Cooper. 87 11. Advantages of a Popular Government Dr. Sharp. 89 12. Reverence for Law J. Hopkinson. 90 13. Birthplace of American Liberty Professor Stuart. 92 14. Character of Washington W. Smyth.* 93 15. Impressions from History G. C. Verplanck. 94 16. The Genius of Death G. Croly. 96 17. The Deep J. G. C. Braimard. 97 18. Parallel between Pope and Dryden Johnson. 98 19. The Puritans Macaulay. 100 20. Poetry Channino. 103 21. Causes of War. . H. Binney. 105 22. Foundation of National Character E.Everett. 105 23. Success of the Gospel President Wayland. 107 24. Power of the Soul R. H. Dana, Sen. 103 25. Hymn of Nature W. B. O. Peabody. 110 26. Universal Decay Greenwood. Ill 27. Eternity of God Id. 113 28. Two Centuries from the Landing of the Pilgrims. . . . Crafts. 115 29. The Upright Lawyer S. Greenleap. 116 30. Character of the present Age E. Everett. 117 31. The Founders of Boston President Quincy. 119 32. Human Culture S. J. May. 120 33. Grecian and Roman Eloquence J. Q. Adams. 123 34. Thanatopsis W. C. Bryant. 123 35. Trust in God Wordatcorth. 125 36. Memory W. G. Clark. 127 • The names of Americin authors, are distinjuished by tmall Capitals ; those of Forsign authon by Italics. By this an.injement, the necessitv of a scparite list of writprs, is obyiatpd. 1* VI CONTENTS. LuBON. Paob. 37. OKI Ironsiilea O. W. Holmes. 128 .T3. Tlial Silciu Moon. . . • G. W. Doake. 129 39. Kvoiiiiig oil ihc Si. Lawrence Prop. Siiximan. 130 40. America lo LIncland W. Allsto.n. 131 41. The American Eagle C. W. Thomson. l.'i:i 42. The I^aai Kvi'iiing before Elemily J. A. Hili.house. 13ri 43. Character of Jesus .... S. C. Thacher. 136 44. Wonuui . Miss C. E. Beecheh. 13S 45. The Treadmill Song O. W. Holmes. MO 46. Darkne^i. . Byron. Ill 47. Ood Derz/uivin. 113 4S Niasara Mrs. Sioourney. 140 49. The~ United Stales G. Bancroft. 147 CO. Woiiter Van Twiller Washington Irvino. 149 r>l. I:ivoculion of Mirth Milton. UA 52. Marco Bozzaris F. G. Halleck. 1.")2 .'•.3. Waterloo Byron, l&l f>4. Pruftsian Balilc Hymn Korner. 1.">G 55. Bernaniu del Carpio. . . , IHrs. Uemayis. l.'iS 56. Williatn Klefl Washi.voto.v Irving. 160 57. Palmyra William Ware. 161 53. Beauties of Nauire Samuel G. Howe. 162 59. An Interest ill!; Adventure William J. S.velling. 163 60. Thoughts on Politeness. . . . . . . . Geo. S. Hillard. 166 61. Same Su!)jecl concluded Id. 167 62. Collage on the Swiss Alps Buckminster. 163 6.3. Peter Stuyvesant Washington Irving. 169 61. Ode on .A.rl Charles Sprague. 171 6.5. Robert Burns F. G. Halleck. 172 66. The Fuliire Life W. C. Bryant. 174 67. The Spirit of Poetry H. W. Longfeixow. 175 63. The Soldier's Widow N. P. Willis. 170 69. The Sicilian Vespers J. G. Whittier. 177 70. Mexican Mythology Wm. H. Prescott. 173 71. Origin ami Progress of Language Samuel G. Howe. 130 72. ZenoUia's Aiiihilion William Ware. ISl 73. Trials of the Pool and the Scholar Geo. S. Hillard. 133 74. Tlie Yankees Samuel Kettel. 1S4 75. Custom of Whitewa.shing Francis Hopkinson. 135 76. Same Sul)jecl continued Id. .137 77. Same Suljject concluded Id. IS3 73. The Force of Curiosity Charles Sprague. 191 79. The Winds W. C. Bryant. 193 80. Daybreak Richard H. Dana, Sen. 194 81. The Light of Home Mrs. S. J. Hale. 196 82. A P.salm of Life H. W. I-ongfellow. 197 83. To the Condor E. F. Ellet. 193 84. A Child carried away by an Eagle Professor Wilson. 199 85. Siime Snt)j'3Ct concluded. ..... . Id. 201 86. Scene al I'lie Dedication of a Heathen Temple. . . William Ware. 20-1 87. Same Subject continued Id. 205 83. Same Subject concluded Id. 206 89. Hamilton and Jay Dr. Hawks. 207 90. Adams and Jelferson Daniel Webster. 2'i9 91. The Destiny of our Republic G. S. Hillard. 211 92. Posthumous Influence of the Wise and Good. . . Andrews Norton. 212 93. Look Alofi J. Lawrence, Jr. 213 64. Ode on War Wm. H. Burleigh. 214 95. The Last Days of Autumn Henry Pickering. 215 96. Man N. Y. Evening Post. 210 97. Pa.ssage down the Ohio James K. Paulding. 217 93. Spirit of Beauty . . Rufus Dawes. 213 99. Education of Females . Joseph Story. 219 100. The Voices of the Dead Orville Dewey. 221 101. The Jewish Revelation Dr. Noyes. 221 102. Incitements to .\merican Intellect G. S. Hillard. 222 103. Importance of Knowledge to the Mechanic. . . . G. B. Emerson. 224 104. Macer preaching oii the steps of the Capitol at Rome. William Ware. 226 105. Death a sublii*e and universal Moralist Jared Sparks. 223 106. Reform in Morals Dr Beecuer. 229 ^^VU ^' PN CONTENTS. Vll ^"iS?: The Child of the Tomb „Wm B. Tappa/Im 108. Love and Fame H. T. Tuckekman. 232 109. Lumeiilaiion of Rebecca the Jewess. ...... ^- '-'^'^''^- ~Xi 110. Two Hundred Years Ago Grenville Mellen. 235 111 The Sffe Charles hPRAGUE. 237 112: The JBurlaiPlace at Laurel Hill ^- '^i.'^i,^'"''''''- o^^ 113. The Good Wife George WBurnap. 239 114. A Good Daughter r^"'- ^- ^n'''^''^^- 9!? 115. Religion the Guardian of the Soul Orvh-lb De>v ey. 241 116. Features of American Scenery ^- „ ^- " oT? 117. Study of Human Nature essential to a Teacher. . . G. B. ^merson. ^d 118. Education • D«- ""?"'"';!I,- ^^ 119. Progress of Science Edward Lveuett. 2 6 120. Purpose of the Bunker-Hill Monument Daniel \V ebster. 247 121. f he American Flag /Arooks' 2M 122. Greece in 1820 • • • /• G Brooks. 2oO 123 The Wild Boy Charles West Thomson. 2o2 124'. The Cure of Melancholy Carlos Wilcox. 2.53 125. My Native Village. • . John H. Brya-nt. 2.^ 126. The Press. . Joseph T. Bucki.ngham. Z.^ 127. Mount Auburn. ...•.••• Nehemiah Adams. 2o6 128. Tryii.g to Please Edward T.Channing. 2..7 129. Defence of CliarlesGreenleaf.- ^A n ^ ;tnS' o-q 130. The Genius of Aristiyihanes t:- e ^ T.™ opT 131. Responsibility of Americans. . • .... ^- ^- w f5J3' oko 132 The Mockiii" Bird Alexander Wilson. 2b2 133: The Europea'i and the American Nations. . . . Daniel Webster. 263 134. The Times, the Manners, and the Men. . . . • J. K. Lowell. 2bo 135. Liberty to Athens i^'??r%°- I?/, t" 9«7 136. The Arsenal at Springfield „ • H. W. Longfellow. 267 137. Immortality. . Richard H. Dana, feEN. 268 138. The Gray Old Man of the Mountain Harry Hibbard. 2^0 139. The Novel Reader Charles Sprague. 2a 140. Mountains of New Hampshire • • • "f^^^ "'^^- ori 141. Local Associations Harrison Gray Otis. 274 142. The Representative • i,""''!^"'''^- f~l 143. A Republican School-Room • A. B. MuzzE\ 2/9 144. The English Skylark Samuel H. Stearns. 280 14.5. The Invalid and the Politician ^ ■ ■'^'""/'«^- ^^^ 146. New England Freedom and Enterprise. .... Josiah Q-jincy. 2>l 147. Freedom and Progress Charles G. Atherton. 23o 148. Scene from Marino Faliero ^ W ^ ^'°"- oor. 149. The Rich Man's Son, and the Poor Man's Son. . . ■ J- R- Lowell. 291J 150. New England's Dead. ^'^V G PE;'c''iviL 293 1.53! The First sLntlers in New Hampshire ^.^-.^'n-V'^'^' ono 154. Scrooge and Marley C^a,*s Dickens. 293 155. The Pilgrim Fathers of New England I^'?^^ ^Ihoate. 300 156. The Settlers of Connecticut ■ ^H^". Kent. 30-2 157. Benefits of CoUesiate Education 'S'"' ^ a? ^n« 153. Our Control over our Physical Well-being. . . . Horace Mann. 306 159. The Insolvent and the Bankrupt. . . • •, • •■' ^- ^srrie.m. 307 160. Extract from an Address delivered at Chapel HiU. . William Gaston. 3 1 161. The Lyre • Milton Ward. 3 2 162. Polish War Song James G. Perciv.^l. 3 4 163. Belshazzar ^, ' /T' , )'/ ?)'l 164. Elijah's Interview Thomas CamphelL 3 o 165. Dame Nature's Charms M., F "h Fvans' 313 166. Night in Eden Mrs. E. H Evans. 3 3 167. The Present Age Daniel Webster. 319 168. Melancholy Fate of the Indians /°^f ''^ ^■'°"^'- So i69. Edmund Burke A. H. Everett. 322 170. National Self Respect t o n " q^r 171. Internal Improvement • • J-^' ^^^^"°™- :^.^~ 172. Founders of our Government Wm. M. Riciiard.son. 326 17.3. Conduct of the Opposition ^^^^^'^ ^h'''^- HL 174. God the Creator. „ • ^^enehn. 323 75. Crescentius " „ MiSsLa>idon 329 176. Address to ll.e Ocean Barrtj Cormcall. .330 nil CONTENTS. LuaoN. 177. The Ursa Major , I7;<. Tho Kale ol "ryranny 17i). Iho Dowiil'iiU ol Tolaiul ISl). Nll|Hll,.OIl !ll RoHl ISl. Napol.'oii Hoiiainrlo Itti Tho Tliiimlcr tilorin 183. Clu-ssical Lcaniiiiir. 184. The nunki-rHill Momimenl. . IS.";. Appeal ill Favor of lliB Union. . IS6. Fruiico ntul Kneliiiul 187. Mili'.ary Iiisiibonlinalion 188. Los.s of Nalioiial Character. 189. l^ifavette anil .\'a|xileoii 190. The Vision of Liburly 191. Shakspeare 192. SpcechofKienzi 10 ihe Romans. . 193. Same Sulijecl 194. Gustavu3 Vasa to the Swedes. 195. A Field of Bailie 196. Kesislance to Oppression. . 197. Duties of American Citizens. 19S. Political Corriiiition 199. Intelligence necessary to perpetuate Independence. 200. South American Republics 201. Excelloiice of Ihe Holy Scriptures 202. Speech of Mr. Griffin against Cheelham. 203. Sir Anthony Absolute ami Captain Absolute. . 20t. Antony's Address to the Roman Populace. 205. The Victor Aiisels 206. Impressment of American Seamen. ... 207. " New Eiijland, what is she ? " .... 203.'Partv Spirit 209. Restless Spirit of Man 210. Rectitude of Cliaractcr 211. Washiimlon. ~ 212. Public Faith 213. Free [nslitntions favorable to Literature. 214. The Study of Klocution necessary for a Preacher. . 215. Relief of Kevolntionary Officers 216. Rapacity antWiarbarily of a British Soldiery. 217. Free Navigation of the Mississippi. 218. Our Duties to our Country 219. England and the United States 220. Massachusetts and New York 221. The Bible 222. Fate of Montezuma 223. Scenery aljoul Hasten Cleaver Hills. . 221. The Treasure that Wa.xelh not Old 225. The Youm; Mariner's Dream. . . • . 226. Gustavus Vasa and Cristieru 227. Tamerlane and Bajazet 22S. An Independent Judiciary 229. Memorials of \Vashin?ton and Franklin. , . 2.30. Dialogue from Henry IV 2:J1. The Love of Truth 232. Ener-ry ofthe Will 213. The Scholar's Mission PxaiL Henry Ware, Jr. 331 . Mtixon. 335 Thomas fumpUU. 3aS . John Pieupont. 3.39 CllANNlNO. 310 Washington Iuvino. 312 JosEi'ii Stohv. 343 DANinr. Wedster. 345 . Jamks Madikon. 316 John C. Cai.iioun. ."MS . Henry Clay. 3.">() . Presiuent Maxcy. 351 . . . E. EVKHETT. 3.'J2 Henry Ware, Jr. .354 Ciiaiu.es Si'ragde. .3.')6 . Miss Mil ford. 357 Tliumiis Moore. 359 . Brooke. 360 . Shelleij. 3(51 Patrick Henry. 302 . Levi Woodbury. 364 . Geo. M'Duffie. 366 . JiTDGE Dawes. 367 Daniel Webster. 3G3 Beattie. 370 . • . . . . 370 . Sheridan. 372 . . . Sha/cspfure. 375 Milton. 377 Henry Clay. 378 Tristam Burges. 379 . William Gaston. 381 . Wilbur Fisk. 3-?3 William Wirt. 385 . Daniel Webster. 3S6 Fisher Ames. 3SS . Edward Everett. 390 . Prof. Park. 391 Martin Van Buren. 393 . Wm. Livingston. 394 GotJVERNEUR Morris. 395 Daniel Webster. 397 E. Everett. 399 Gov. Skward. 402 Thos. S. Grimke. 404 Wm. H. Prescott. 405 . John A. Clark. 407 D. Huntington. 409 Dimond. 410 . Brooke. 411 . Rowe. 414 James A. Bayard. 417 J. Q. Adams. 419 Shakspeare. 421 George Putnam. 424 Thomas C. Upham. 425 George Putnam. 42' PREFACE. The design of this work is, to furnish a text-book for the systematic teaching of reading and declamation. Of the reading books already in general use, some, though possessed of high literary merit, afford no aid to instruction in elocution ; while others offer but a few desultory re- marks, and disconnected rules, which do not insure either an adequate knowledge of principles, or a regular progress in the art of reading. These defects in existing compilations, are, to teachers generally, the grounds of just objection and complaint ; and the compilers of the pres- ent work have been repeatedly solicited to prepare a volume such as is now offered. Speaking with reference to a work of this nature, the late Rev. Dr. Porter, of Andover Theological Seminary, in his ' Analysis of Rhetorical Dehvery,' says, " The man who shall prepare a schoolbook, containing proper lessons for the management of the voice, will prob- ably do a greater service to the interests of elocution, than has yet been done by the most elaborate works on the subject, in the English lan- guage." And, in a note appended to this passage, " Since this remark was made in my pamphlet on Inflections, several small works, well adapted to the purpose above mentioned, have been published ; and one is now in press, entitled, Lessons in Declamation, by Mr. Russell, of Boston, concerning the utility of which, high expectations are justified by the skill of the author, as a teacher of elocution."* To some persons, the 'Rhetorical Reader,' founded on Dr. Porter's ' Analysis,' may seem to occupy the ground claimed for the present pub- lication. The compilers would offer, in explanation, not merely their own impressions, but the express objections made by many teachers, when requesting the aid of a book more exactly adapted to the wants felt in actual instruction. The Rhetorical Reader contains, it is admit- ted, many excellent suggestions on elocution, and many pieces of emi- ■ nent merit as to their matter. But the marking of inflections, in partic- ular, contravenes, in many parts of that book, the rules and principles * The publication of the book mentioned above, of which the late Dr. Porter had seen the proofs of the first half of the volume, was unavoidably suspended, in consequence of a change of business, on the part of the publishers who had undertaken it. But tho •whion are the guiues of practice. X PREFACE. of the work itself, and is wholly at variance with appropriate style in reading. The pieces are, to a great extent, of a character better suited to adults and professional readers, than to young persons at school ; and the style of language, in some, is equally negligent and incorrect. A single word of explanation, perhaps, is due, in relation to the ap- parent coincidence of plan and rule, in some parts of the present work, with those of the ' Rhetorical Reader.' The ' Analysis,' on which the ' Rhetorical Reader,' was founded, was compiled, to a considerable ex- tent, as regards rules and examples, from materials handed, for that purpose, to the Rev. Dr. Porter, by one of the editors of the present vol- ume ; and the latter's mode of teaching, as an elocutionist, being, of course, modified by the principles embodied m these materials, a man- ual of instruction, if prepared by him, must necessarily produce a par- tial resemblance of method to that of a work partly constructed on the same data. The compilers of the following work, have drawn, it will be per- ceived, to a considerable extent, from that invaluable source of instruc- tion in elocution, the Philosophy of the Human Voice, by Dr. James Rush, of Philadelphia. The clearness of exposition, and the precision of terms, in that admirable work, have greatly facilitated, as well as clearly defined, the processes of practical teaching, in whatever regards the discipline of the organs of speech, or the functions of the voice, in utterance and articulation, in emphasis, inflection, modulation, and every other constituent of elocution. The pieces for practice in reading and speaking, which form the larger portion of this volume, have been selected with great care, as re- gards their character, not only in relation to the purposes of practice in reading, but with reference to the intluence of a high standard of excellence, — both in subject and style, — on the mind and taste of young readers. Regard, also, has constantly been paid to the effect which the pieces seemed adapted to produce, as favoring the cultivation of elevated sentiment, and of practical virtue. The preparation of the pieces for the purpose of applying the rules of elocution, has been regulated by a regard to the importance of placing before the reader, but one principle or rule at a time, of presenting it clearly, and of repeating it with sufficient frequency to fix it firmly on the mind. The marking by which the modifications of the voice are indicated, is, accordingly, restricted, principally, to one subject in each ; so as to avoid confusion, and to secure a full and lasting impression of each rule or principle. In modulation and expression, however, where there exists a natural complexity in the subject itself, the marking is, of course, more !'-•••;'"<•« i> PRFFACE. XI nite. The suggestive notatioa has been limited to such a number of pieces, as seemed requisite to fix the prominent principles of elocution permanently in the memory. But most of the lessons have been left unmarked, in order to have the reader exert his own judgment in apply- ing the rules, with the aid, when necessary, of the teacher. The propnety and the advantage of any system of notation, for the purposes of study in elocution, have been, by some writers, considered doubtful. On this subject, Dr. Porter has made the following just ob- servations : " If there could at once spnng up in our country a supply of teachers, competent, as living models, to regulate the tones of boys, in the form- ing age, — nothing more would be needed. But, to a great extent, these teachers are to be themselves formed. And to produce the trans- formation which the case demands, some attempt seems necessary to go to the root of the evil, by incorporating the principles of spoken lan- guage with the written. Not that such a change should be attempted with regard to books generally ; but in books of elocution, designed for tiiis single purpose, visible marks may be employed, suflBcient to desig- nate the chief points of established correspondence between sentiment and voice. These principles oeing well settled in the mind of the pupil, xnay be spontaneously applied, where no such marks are used." Objections are made by some authors, — whose judgment and taste, on other subjects, are unquestionable, — not only to any system of no- tation indicating the modifications of voice which characterize appropri- ate reading, but to any systematic instruction in the rules and principles of elocution themselves. Persons, even, who admit the use of rules on other subjects, contend, that, in reading and speaking, no rules are necessary ; that a correct ear is a suflicient guide, and the only safe one. If, by a 'correct ear,' be meant a vague exercise of feeling or of taste, unfounded on a principle, the guidance will prove to be that of conjecture, fancy, or whim. But if, by a ' correct ear,' be meant an intuitive exercise of judgment or of taste, consciously or unconsciously recognizing a principle, then is there virtually imphed a latent rule ; and the instructor's express office, is, to aid his pupil in detecting, applying, and retaining that rule. Systematic rules are not arbitrary ; they are founded on observation and experience. No one who is not ignorant of their meaning and ap- plication, will object to them, merely because they are systematic, well defined, and easily understood : every reflective student of any art, pre- fers systematic knowledge to conjectural judgment, and seizes with avidity on a principle, because he knows that it involves those rules ■which are the guides of practice. Xn PREFACE. "^V^len a skilful teacher," says Dr. Porter, "has read to his pupils a sentence for ilieir imitation, is there any reason why he should have read it as he did ? — or wly he or they should read it again in the same manner ? Can that reason be made intelligible ? Doubtless it may, if it is founded on any stated law. The pupils, then, need not rest in a servile imitation of their teacher's manner, but are entitled to ask why his emphasis, or inflection, or cadence, was so, and not otherwise : and then they may be able to transfer the. same principles to other cases." •• &nouid some still doubt whether any theory of vocal inflections can DC adopted, which will not be perplexing, and, on the whole, injurious, especially to the young, I answer, that the same doubt may as well be extended to every department of practical knowledge. To tldnk of the rules of syntax, every sentence we speak, or of the rules of orthogra- phy and style, every time we take up our pon to wnte, would indeed be perplexing. The remedy prescribed by a)mmon sense, in all such cases, is, not to discard correct theories, but to make them so familiar as to govern our practice spontaneously, and without reflection." J. G. W. B. AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL READER AND SPEAKER. PART I.— RULES OF ELOCUTION. ANALYSIS OF THE VOICE. The chief distinctions of the voice, as they are presented in the science of music, are comprehended under the heads of ' Rhythm', including all the modifications of voice produced by 'time', 'mea- sure', and 'movement'; — 'Dynamics', comprising the various ap- plications' and degrees of ' volume', or 'quantity', 'loudness', and 'force'; — 'Melody', including 'pitch', 'intonation', or change of ' note', in ascending or descending the musical scale, and ' modula tion', or change of key' ; — ' Quality', designating the voice as ' bary- tone', or grave ; 'soprano', or high; 'tenor', or medium; 'pure', or clear and smooth ; ' impure', or the reverse of the last. The classification of vocal properties, as exhibited in eloaition, according to the system developed in Dr. Rush's ' Philosophy of the Voice', comprises, — 'Quality', 'Force', 'Pitch', and 'Time', — all used in the same general references, as in music, — and ' Abrupt- ness', — a property of voice which is exhibited in the sudden and instantaneous explosion of forcible sound, as in the tone of violent anger. This quality is properly but one of the modifications of ' force'. * The analysis of the voicej^for the purposes of instruction and practice in reading and declamation, may be extended, in detail, to the following points, which form the essential prop- erties of good style, in reading and speaking. 1. Good'Quality' of Voice; 6. Appropriate Pauses ; 2. Due ' Quantity ', or Loud- 7. Right Emphasis ; ness; 8. Correct 'Inflections'; 3. Distinct Articulation ; 9. Just ' Stress'; 4. Correct Pronunciation; 10. ' Expressive Tones'; 5. True Time; 11. Appropriate 'Modulation,' * The larger type distinguishes those portions of Part I. wliich arc most important to the learner, and which should be, in substance, im pressed on the memory. 2 14 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART 1. ^ I. — QUALITY OF VOICE. The chief properties of a good voice, are, 1. Roundness, 3. Versatility, 2. Smoothness, 4. Right Pitch. 1. Roundness. This property of voice is exemplified in that ringing ful- ness of tone, which belongs to the utterance of animated and earnest feeling, when unobstructed by false habit. It is natu- ral and habitual, in childhood ; it is exhibited in all good singing, and in the properly cultivated style of public reading and speaking. This mode of voice depends, 1. on a true position of the body, as preparatory to the easy and energetic use of the organs of speech ; 2. on deep and tranquil respiration, (breathing,) which furnishes a full supply of breath, — the only means of creating a full vocal sound ; 3. on energetic expulsion of the breath, or sending it forci- bly up to the ' larynx', or upper part of the throat, by the action of the lower muscles of the trunk, — those, chiefly, which are situated in front, and below the ribs. The true position of the body, for the ftmction of speech, implies an attitude perfectly upright ; the head erect ; the shoulders held back and down ; the chest well expanded and projected. The cav- ity of the chest, being thus greatly enlarged, the lungs well supplied with air, and the lower and larger muscles of the trunk, acting pow- erfully, the voice seems, as it were, to ring clearly in the head, and resound fully in the chest, at the same moment. A full, deep, round, and ample sound, is thus imparted to the voice. This tone has been termed, by Dr. Rush, the ' orotund', or round tone. It belongs appropriately to public reading and speak- ing, as contrasted with familiar talking. One great cause of the feeble, stifled, thin, and imperfect Voices, which are heard so often in reading and speaking, is the absence of that vigorous tone of healthful acti\'ity, which is indispensable, alike to the free and ef- fective play of the organs of speech, and to that vividness of feeling, which is the true inspiration of the voice. This want of healthy vigor and spirit, leads to stooping postures, a sunken chest, drooping head, and consequently, to suppressed and imperfect tone. Reading aloud becomes, in consequence of these faults, a fatiguing and ex hausting labor, instead of an exhilarating and inspiring exertion. Practice, in the style of vehement declamation, is the best means of securing a round and full tone. — The following exercise should be repeatedly practised, with the attention closely directed to the man- agement of the organs, in the manner which has just been described, as producing the 'orotund', or resonant quality of voice. PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 16 Exercise on the ' Orotund '. " 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 de- fence of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of this barbarous war, against our brethren ? — My lords, we are called upon as members of this house, as men, as Christians, to protest against such horrible barbarity I — I solemnly call upon your lordships, and upon every order of men in the state, to stamp upon this infamous procedure the indelible stigma of the public abhorrence ! " 2. Smoothness of Voice, or 'Purity^ of Tone. Smoothness of voice, in reading and speaking, is the same quality which, in relation to vocal music, is termed 'purity' of tone. This property of voice consists in maintaining an undisturbed, liquid stream of sound, resembling, to the ear, the effect produced on the eye, by the flow of a clear and perfectly transparent stream of water. It depends, like every other excellence of voice, on a free, upright, and unembarrassed attitude of the body, — the head erect, the chest expanded. It implies natural and tranquil respi- ration, (breathing ;) — full and deep ' inspiration', (inhaling, or drawing in the breath ;) and gentle 'expiration', (giving forth the breath ;) a true, and firm, but moderate exercise of the ' larynx', (or upper part of the throat ;) and a careful avoiding of every motion that produces a jarring, harsh, or grating sound. 'Pure' tone is free from, 1. the heavy and hollow note of the chest; — 2. the 'guttural', choked, stifled, or hard sound of the swollen and compressed throat ; — 3. the hoarse, husky, ' harsh', * ree- dy', and grating, style, which comes from too forcible ' expiration', and too wide opening of the throat; — 4. the nasal twang, which is caused by forcing the breath against the nasal passage, and, at the same time, partially closing it ; — 5. the wiry, or false ring of the voice, which unites the guttural and the nasal tones ; — 6. the af- fected, mincing voice of the mouth, which is caused by not allowing the due proportion of breath to escape through the nose. The nat- ural, smooth, and pure tone of the voice, as exhibited in the vivid utterance natural to healthy childhood, to good vocal music, or to appropriate public speaking, avoids every effect arising from an un- due preponderance, or excess, in the action of the muscles of the chest, the throat, or any other organ, and, at the same time, secures all the good qualities resulting from the just and well-proportioned exercise of eafh. A true and smooth utterance, derives resonance 16 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART 1. from the chest, firmness from the throat, and clearness from the head and mi)iitli. Without these quaUties, it is impossible to give right effect to the heauty and grandeur of noble sentiments, whether expressed in prose or in verse. Childhood and j'outh are the favorable seasons for acquiring and fixing, in permanent possession, the good qualities of agreeable and effective utterance. The teacher cannot exert too much vigilance, nor the pupil take too much pains, to avoid the encroachments of faulty habit, in this important requisite to a good elocution. The subjoined exercise should be frequently and attentively prac- tised, with a view to avoid every sound which mars the purity of the tone, or hinders a perfect smoothness of voice. Exercise in Smoothness and '^ Purity'' of Voice. " No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but all The multitude of angels, with a shout. Loud as from numbers without number, sweet, As from blest voices uttering joy ; — heaven rung With jubilee, and loud hosannas filled The eternal regions ; — lowly reverent, Towards either throne they bow ; and to the ground, With solemn adoration, down they cast Their crowns, inwove with amaranth and gold. — Then crowned again, their golden harps they took, — Harps ever tuned, — that, glittering by their side. Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet Of charming symphony, they introduce Their sacred song, and waken raptures high." Note. The various passions and emotions of the soul, are, to a great extent, indicated by the ' quality ' of the voice. Thus, the malignant, and all excessive emotions, as anger, hatred, revenge, fear, and horror, are remarkable for ' guttural quality', and strong ' aspi- ration', or ' expiration', accompanying the vocal sound, and forming 'impure' tone; substituting a 'harsh', husky, aspirated utterance, for the ' orotund', or the ' pure ' tone ; while -pathos, serenity, love, joy, courage, take a soft and smooth ' oral', or head tone, perfectly pure, or swelling into 'orotund'. Awe, solemnity, reverence, and melancholy, take a deep, 'pectoral' murmur; the voice resounding, as it were, in the cavity of the chest, but still keeping perfectly 'pure' in tone, or expanding into full 'orotund'. — See Section on 'Expressive Tones/ Young persons cannot be too deeply impressed with the impor- tance of cultivating, early, a pure and smooth utterance. The ex- cessively deep ' pectoral ' tone sounds hollow and sepulchral ; the ' guttural ' tone is coarse, and harsh, and grating to the ear ; the nasal ' tone is ludicrous ; and the combination of ' guttural ' and PAHT r.] READER AND SI'EAKER. m 17 ' nasal ' tone, is repulsive and extremely disagreeable. Some speak- ers, through excessive negligence, allow themselves to combine the ' pectoral', ' guttural', and ' nasal ' tones, in one sound, — for which the word grunt is the only approximate designation that can be found. AiTectation, or false taste, on the other hand, induces some speakers to assume an extra fine, or double-distilled, ' oral ' tone, which minces every word in the mouth, as if the breast had no part to perform in human utterance. The tones of serious, serene, cheerful, and kindly feeling, are nature's genuine standard of agreeable voice, as is evinced in the utterance of healthy and happy childhood. But prevalent neglect permits these to be lost in the habitual tones of boys and girls, men and women. Faithful teachers may be of much service to young persons, in this particular. 3. Versatility, or Pliancy of Voice, Signifies that power of easy and instant adaptation, by which it takes on the appropriate utterance of every emotion which occurs in the reading or speaking of a piece characterized by varied feeling or intense* passion. To acquire this invaluable property of voice, the most useful course of practice is the repeated reading or reciting of passages marked by striking contrasts of tone, as loud or soft, high or low, fast or slow. The following exercises should be repeated till the pupil can give them in succession, with perfect adaptation of voice in each case, and with instantaneous precision of effect. Exercises for Versatility, or Pliayicy of Voice : Very Loud. " 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 ! by St. Bride of Bothwell, no ! — Up, drawbridge, groom ! What ! warder, ho ! Let the portcullis fall ! " Very Soft. " I 've seen the moon climb the mountain's brow, I 've watched the mists o'er the river stealing, — But ne'er did I f^el in my breast, till now, So deep, so calm, and so holy a feeling : — 'T is soft as the thrill which memory throws Athwart the soul, in the hour of repose." 18 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART ' Very IjOio. " I had a dream, which was not all a dream, The bright sun was extinguished ; and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Rayless, and pathless ; and the icy earth » Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air." Very High. " I woke : — where was I ? — Do I see A human face look down on me ? And doth a roof above me close ? Do these limbs on a couch repose ? Is this a chamber where I lie ? And is it mortal, yon bright eye, That watches me with gentle glance ? " Very Sloiu. " Of old hast Thou laid the foundation of the earth ; and the heavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure ; yea, all of them shall wax old, like a garment ; as a vesture shalt Thou change them, and they shall be changed : but Thou art the same ; and Thy years shall have no end." Very Quick. " I am the Rider of the wind, The Stirrer of the storm ! The hurricane I left behind Is yet with lightning warm ; — To speed to thee, o'er shore and sea I swept upon the blast." 4. True Pitch of Voice. The proper pitch of the voice, when no peculiar emotion demands high or low notes, is, — for the purposes of ordinary reading or speaking, — a little below the habitual note of con- versation, for the person who reads or speaks. Public dis- course being usually on graver subjects and occasions, than mere private communication, naturally and properly adopts this level. But, throug-h mistake or inadvertency, we sometimes hear persons read and speak on too low a key for the easy and expressive use PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 19 of the voice, and, sometimes, on the other hand, on a key too high for convenient or agreeable utterance. The following sentences should be repeated till the note on which they are pitched is distinctly recognized, and perfectly remembered, Bo as to become a key to all similar passages. Exercise on Middle Pilch. " 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- tive of higher enjoyment. It is then that every thing has the charm of novelty ; that curiosity and fancy are awake, and that the heart swells with the anticipations of future eminence and utility." Contrast this pitch with that of the pieces before quoted, as exam- ples of ' high' and ' low'. 9 II. DUE QUANTITY, OR LOUDNESS. The second characteristic of good reading, is the use of that degree of loudness, force, ' volume', or ' quantity', of voice which enables those to whom we read or speak, to hear, without effort, every sound of the voice ; and which, at the same time, gives that degree of force which is best adapted to the utterance of the sentiments which are read or spoken. All undue loudness is a great annoyance to the ear, and an injury to the expression ; while a feeble and imperfect utterance fails of the main purposes of speech, by being partly or entirely inaudible, and consequently utterly unimpressive. The failure, as regards loudness, is usually made on passages of moderate force, which do not furnish an inspiring impulse of emo- tion, and which depend on the exercise of judgment and discrimina- tion, rather than of feeling. It is of great service, however, to progress in elocution, to possess the power of discriminating the various degrees of force which the utterance of sentiment requires. The extremes of very ' loud ' and very ' soft", required by peculiar emotions, have been exemplified in the exercise on ' versatility' of voice. There are tlfi^ee degrees of loudness, all of great impor- tance to the appropriate utterance of thought and feeling, required in the usual forms of composition. These are the following : ' moderate', ' forcible', and ' empassioned'. The first, the 'moderate', occurs in the reading of plain narrative, descriptive, or didactic composition, addressed to the under- 20 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAKT I. slunding, rather than to the feelings : the second, the ' forci- ble', is exemplified in energetic declamation: the third, the ' empassioned', occurs in the language of intense emotion, whether in the form of poetry or of prose. The teacher's watcliful attention -will be required, in superintend- ing the pupirs practice on the following examples, so as to enable him to detect, and fix definitely, in his ear, the exact degree of loudness appropriate to each ])assage. The exercises should be re- peated till they can be executed with perfect precision, so as to form a standard for all similar expression, in subsequent reading. Exercite in ^Moderate'' Force. " An author represents Adam as using the following lan- guage. ' I remember the moment when my existence com- menced : it was a moment replete with joy, amazement, and anxiety. I neither knew what I was, where I was, nor whence I came. I opened my eyes : what a^ increase of sensation ! The light, the celestial vault, the verdure of the earth, the transparency of the waters, gave animation to my spirits, and conveyed pleasures which exceed the powers of utterance.' " ' Declamatory ' Force. " Advance, then, ye future generations ! We bid you wel- come to this pleasant land of the Fathers. We bid you welcome to the healthful skies, and the verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to the great inheritance which we have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good government, and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of science, and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the transcendant sweets of domestic life, to the happiness of kindred, and parents, and children. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational exist- ence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting Truth ! " ' Empassioned ' Force. " Shame ! shame ! that in such a proud moment of life. Worth ages of history, — when, had you but hurled One bolt at your bloody invader, that strife Between freemen and tyrants, had spread through the world, — PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 21 That then, — Oh ! disgrace upon manhood ! — e'en then You should faher, — should cling to your pitiful breath, — Cower down into beasts, Avhen you might have stood men, And prefer a slave's life, to a glorious death ! It is strange ! — it is dreadful ! — Shout, Tyranny, shout Through your dungeons and palaces, ' Freedom is o'er ! ' — If there lingers one spark of her fire, tread it out, And return to your empire of darkness, once more." ^ III. DISTINCT ARTICULATION. " Correct articulation is the most important exercise of the voice and of the organs of speccli. A reader or speaker, possessed of only a moderate voice, if he articulate correctly, will be better un- derstood, and heard with greater pleasure, than one who vociferates. The voice of the latter may, indeed, extend to a considerable dis- tance ; but the sound is dissipated in confusion : of the former voice not the smallest vibration is wasted, — every soimd is perceived, at the utmost distance to which it reaches ; and hence it even pene- trates farther than one which is loud, but badly articulated. In just articulation, the words are not hurried over, nor precipitated syllable over syllable ; nor, as it were, melted to- gether into a mass of confusion : they are neither abridged, nor prolonged ; nor swallowed, nor forced, and, if I may so express myself, shot from the mouth ; they are not trailed nor drawled, nor let slip out carelessly, so as to drop unfin- ished. They are delivered out from the lips, as beautiful coins newly issued from the mint, deeply and accurately im- pressed, perfectly finished, neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, sharp, in due succession, and of due weight."* This department of correct reading, belongs, properly, to the stage of elementary lessons. But as negligence in general habit, and remissness in early practice, are extensively the causes of an imperfect articulation, it may be of great service to young readers to review the elements of the language, in successive practical exer- cises, as embodied in a manual prepared by one of the editors of the present work.f For facility of practice in difficult combinations of letters and syllables, some of the exercises in Tower's ' Gradual Reader', will also be found very serviceable. The preliminary Ex- * Austin's < Chironomia,' pp. 37, 38. f 'Russell's Lessons in Enunciation; comprising a Course of Ele- mentary Exercises, and a statement of Common Errors in Articulation, with the Rules of Correct Usage in Pronoimcing. Boston, Jenks & Palmer.' !2*J AJMERICAN COMMON- SCHOOL [PART I crcises in Articulation ami Pronunciation, prefixed to the volume prepared as an ' Introduction " to the present work, are designed to serve the purpose ol" an extensive discipline in this department of elocution. A brief course, of a similar nature, but adapted to juve- nile readers, is contained in an elementary book compiled by one of the editors of this Reader.* A paf^o or a parajrrapii of every reading lesson, should, previous to the regular exercise, be read bachwaril, for the purpose of arrest- ing tlie attention, and securing every sound in every word. Tiie design of the present volume, does not admit of detail, in the department of elocution now under consideration. The importance, however, of a perfectly distinct enunciation can never be impressed too deeply on the mind of tlie pupil. An exact articulation is more conducive than any degree of loudness, to facility of hearing and understanding. Young readers should be accustomed to pronounce every word, every syllable, and every letter, with accuracy, al- though without labored effort. The faults of skipping, slighting, mumbling, swallowing, or drawling the sounds of vowels or of con- sonants, are not only offensive to the ear, but subversive of meaning, as may be perceived in the practice of several of the following examples. 1. " That lasts t\\\ night : that Vdist st'iW night." 2. " He can debate on efther side of the question : he can debate on neither side of the question." 3. " The steadfast stranger in the ioxests sprayed." 4. " Who ever imagined such an ocean to exist ? — Who ever imagined such a 7iotion to exist ? " 5. " His cry woved me : his crime moveA me." 6. " He could pay ?iobody : he could pai/i wobody." 7. " Up the high. Aill he /^eaves a Auge round stone." 8. " Tho' oft the ear the open vowels lire." 9. " Heaven's firs? s^ar alike ye see." ^ IV. CORRECT PRONUNCIATION. That pronunciation is correct which is sanctioned by good usage, or custom. Good usage implies the habit of persons of good education, as regulated by the decisions of learning and taste, exemplified in standard dictionaries, — a style which is equally free from the errors of uneducated or neg- ligent custom, and the caprices of pedantry, — which falls in * 'Russell's Primary Reader : a Selection of easy Reading Lessons, with introductory Exercises in Articulation, for Young Children. Bos- ton • Tappan & Dennct.' PART I.J READER AND 5 PEAKER. 23 with the current of cuhivated mind, and does not deviate into peculiarities, on the mere authority of individuals. Good taste in pronunciation, while it allows perfect freedom of choice, as to the mode of pronouncing words liable to variation in sound or accent, requires a compliance with every fixed point of sanctioned usage. The subject of pronunciation, Uke the preceding one, — articula- tion, — belongs properly to the department of elementary instruc- tion.* But as this branch of elocution does not always receive its due share of seasonable attention, many errors in pronunciation are apt to occur in the exercise of reading, as performed by even the ad- vanced classes in schools. To avoid such errors, it will be found useful to discuss closely and minutely, the correct pronunciation of every word which, in any lesson, is liable to be mispronounced. The standard of reference, in such cases, ought to be Walker's Dictionary, Worcester's edition of Johnson and Walker combined, or the same author's edition of Dr. Webster's Dictionary. All reading lessons should, if practicable, be read to the class, by the teacher, one day beforehand, so as to allow opportunity for care- ful and critical study, at home, previous to the exercise of reading, on the part of the pupils. Seasonable information will thus be ob- tained, and errors avoided, instead of being merely corrected after they have occurred, and when it is too late to secure good habit or avoid bad. § V. TRUE TIME. By true time, in elocution, is meant, an utterance well- proportioned in sound and pause, and neither too fast nor too slow. We should never read so fast as to render our reading mdistinct, nor so slow as to impair the vivacity, or prevent tiie full effect, of what is read. " EVery thing tender, or solemn, plaintive, or grave, should be read with great moderation. Every thing humorous or sprightly, every thing witty or amusing, should be read in a brisk and lively manner. Narration should be generally equable and flowing ; vehemence, firm and accelerated ; anger and joy rapid ; whereas dignity, author- ity, sublimity, reverence, and awe, should, along with deeper tone, assume a slower movement. The movement should, in every in- stance, be adapted to the sense, and free from all hurry, on the one hand, or drawling on the other." The pausing, too, should be carefully proportioned to the movement or rate of the voice ; and no change of movement fi-om slow to fast, or the reverse, should take place in any clause, unless a change of emotion is implied in the language of the piece. * The subject of Pronunciation forms a large part of the Elementary Exercises contained in the 'Introduction' to this Reader. 24 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. Exercises on Time. The ' slowest ' and the ' quickest ' rates of utterance, have been exemplified under the head of ' versatility ' of voice, and need not be repeated here. They occur in the extremes of grave and gay emotion. There are three important applications of ' time ' in con- nexion with ' rate', or ' movement', which frequently occur in the common forms of reading and speaking. These are the ' slow', the ' moderate', and the ' lively'. The first of these, the ' slow', is exhibited in the tones of atve, reverence, and solemnity, when these emotions are not so deep as to require the slowest movement of all : the second, the ' mod- erate', belongs to grave and serious expression, when not so deep as to require the ' slow ' movement ; it belongs, also, to all unempassioned communication, addressed to the under- standing, more than to the feelings ; and it is exemplified in the utterance of moderate, subdued, and chastened emotion : the third rate, the ' lively', is perhaps sufficiently indicated by its designation, as characterizing all animated, cheerful, and gay expression. All the exercises on 'time', should be repeated till they can be exemplified perfectly, and at once. Previous to practising the fol- lowing exercises, the pupil may be aided in forming distinct and well-defined ideas of ' time', by turning back to the example under 'versatility', marked as 'very slow', and repeating it, with close attention to its extreme slowness. He will observe that, in the re- peating of this example, the effect of ' time', or proportion of move- ment, is to cause a remarkable lengthening out of the sound of every accented vowel ; an extreme slowness in the succession of the sounds of all letters, syllables, and words : and, along with all this, an unusual length in all the pauses. It is this adjustment of single and successive sounds and their intermissions, which properly con- stitutes the office of ' time ' in elocution : although the term is often indefinitely used rather as s3nnonymous with the word ' movement', as applied in music. The ' slow ' movement differs from the ' slowest', in not possessing the same extreme prolongation of sound in single vowels, or the same length of pause. The slow succession of sounds is, however, a common characteristic in both. Example of ' Sloio ' Movement. " Thou, who did'st put to flight Primeval silence, when the morning stars, Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball ; PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 25 O Thou, whose word from solid darkness struck That spark, the sun, strike wisdom from my soul ! " ' Moderate'. " There is something nobly 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. There is a grandeur of thought, connect- ed with this part of rural economy. It is worthy of liberal, and freeborn, and aspiring men. He who plants an oak, looks forward to future ages, and plants for posterity. No- thing can be 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." ' Lively '. " How does the water come down at Lodore ? Here it comes sparkling, And there it lies darkling ; Here smoking and frothing. Its tumult and wrath in, It hastens along, conflicting and strong, Now striking and raging, As if a war waging. Its caverns and rocks among, — Swelling and flinging, Showering and springing, Eddying and whisking. Spouting and frisking. Turning and twisting Around and around, — Collecting, disjecting,- With endless rebound." ^ VI. APPROPRIATE PAUSES. The grammatical punctuation of sentences, by which they are divided into clauses by commas, although sufficiently dis- 3 26 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART 1. .tinct for the purpose of separating the syntactical portions of the structure, are nC'i Ai'.equate to the object of marking all the audible pauses, which sense and feeling require, in read- ing aloud. Hence we find, that intelligible and impressive reading depends on introducing many short pauses, not indi- cated by commas or other points, but essential to the meaning of phrases and sentences. These shorter pauses are, for dis- tinction's sake, termed ' rhetorical'. Powerful emotion not unfrequently suggests another spe- cies of pause, adapted to the utterance of deep feeling. This pause sometimes takes place where there is no grammatical point used, and sometimes is added to give length to a gram- matical pause. Tliis pause may be termed the ' oratorical', or the pause of ' effect'. Note. The length of the rhetorical pause depends on the length of the clause, or the significance of the word which follows it. The full ' rhetorical pause ' is marked thus II, the ' half rhetorical pause', thus | , and the short ' rhetorical pause', thus ' . - Rules for ' Rhetorical ' Paiises. The ' rhetorical ' pause takes place, as follows : EuLE I. Before a verb, when the nominative is long, or when it is emphatic. — Ex. " Life II is short, and art II is long." Rule II. Before and after an intervening phrase. Ex. " Talents II without application II are no security for progress in learning." Rule III. Wherever transposition of phrases may take place. Ex. " Through dangers the most appalling II he advanced with heroic intrepidity." Rule IV. Before an adjective following its noun. Ex. " Hers was a soul II replete with every noble quality.' Rule V. Before relative pronouns, prepositions, conjunctions, or adverbs used conjunctively, when followed by a clause depending on them. — Ex. " A physician was called in II who prescribed appropriate remedies." " The traveller be gan his journey II in the highest spirits II and with the most delightful anticipations." Rule VI. Where ellipsis, or omission of words, takes place. — Ex. " To your elders manifest becoming deference, to your companions II frankness, to your juniors II condescen- s 7n." PART 1.] READER AND SPEAKER. 27 Rule VII. Before a verb in the infinitive mood, governed by another verb. — Ex. " The general now commanded his re- served force II to advance to the aid of the main body." Exercise on ' Rhetorical Pauses . " Industry !l is the guardian ' cf innocence." " Honor II is the subject ' of my story." " The prodigal II lose many opportunities ' for doing good." " Prosperity II gains friends, adversity II tries them." " Time II once passed II never returns." " He 1 that hath no rule ' over his own spirit, is like a city ' that is broken down, and without walls." " Better ' is a dinne? of herbs II where love \ is, than a stalled ox II and hatred | therewith". " The veil II which covers ' from our sight | the events ' of succeeding years, is a veil ' woven by the hand of mercy." " Blessed II are the poor in spirit." " Silver ' and gold II have I none." " Mirth II I consider ' as an act, cheerfulness II as a habit ' of the mind. Mirth II is short ' and transient, cheerfulness II fixed ' and permanent. Mirth II is like a flash of lightning, that glitters ' for a moment : cheerfulness II keeps up a kind of daylight ' in the mind." " Some II place the bliss ' in action, some II in ease : Those II call it pleasure, and contentment II these." The habitual tendency of young readers being to hurry, in read- ing, their pauses are Uable to become too short for distinctness, or to be entirely omitted. In most of the above examples, the precision, beauty, and force of the sentiment, depend much on the careful ob^ servance of the rhetorical pauses. The teacher may impart an idea of their effect, by allowing each sentence to be read, first, without the rhetorical pauses, — secondly, with pauses made at wrong places,-^ thirdly, with the pausing as marked. Rule on the ' Oratorical ' Pause. The ' oratorical ' pause is introduced in those passages which express the deepest and most solemn emotions, such as naturally arrest and overpower, rather than inspire, utter- ance. Examples. " The sentence was — death ! " " There is one sure refuge for the oppressed, one sure resting-place for the weary, — the grave ! " [AppUcation — See page 76.] 28 A>ISIli«AN CtOMAlON-SCHOOL [PARl I. '^ VII. RIGHT EMPHASIS. Emphasis distinguishes the most significant or expressive words of a sentence. It properly includes several functions of voice, in addition to the element of force. An enplialic word is not unfrequently distin- guished by the peculiar ' tune', ' pilch', ' stress', and ' inllection ' of its accented sound. But all the^se properties are partially merged, to the ear, in the great comparative force of the sound. Hence it is customary to regard emphasis as merely special force. Tliis view of the subject would not be practically incorrect, if it were under- stood as conveying the idea of a special force superadded to all the other characteristics of tone and emotion, in the word to which it applies. Emphasis is either ' absolute ' or ' relative'. The former occurs in the utterance of a single thought or feeling, of great energy : the latter, in the correspondence or contrast of tivo or more ideas. ' Absolute ' emphasis is either ' empassioned ' or ' distinct- ive'. The former expresses strong emotion. — Exaynple. " False wizard, avaunt ! " * — The latter designates objects to the attention, or distinguishes them to the understanding. — Ex. " The fall of man is the main subject of Milton's great poem." ' Relative ' emphasis occurs in words which express com- parison, correspondence, or contrast. — Example. " Cowards die many times; the brave, but o/ice." Rules on Emphasis. Rule I. Exclamations and interjections usually require ' empassioned ' emphasis, or the strongest force of utterance. Exajnples. " Woe ! to the traitor, WOE ! " — " UP ! comrades, UP!"— "AWAKE! ARISE! or be for EVER fallen!" " Ye icefalls ! Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven, Beneath the keen full moon ? — * Three degrees of emphasis are usually thus denoted m. tj^ae : the first, by Italic letters ; the second, by small capitals ; and the third, by large capitals. Thus, "You shall DIE, base d lo! and that before yon doud has passed over the sun ! " — Sometimes a fourth, by Italic cap- lUls,— thus, "Ne\t;k, NEVER, NEVEB < " fXRT I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 29 God ! GOD ! the torrents, like a shout of nations, Utter : the ice-plain bursts, and answers, God ! The silent snow-mass, loosening, thunders, GOD ! " Rule II. Every new incident in a narration, every new object in a description, and every new subject in a didactic passage, requires ' distinctive ' emphasis, or a force of utter- mce sufficient to render it striking or prominent. Examples. " Their frail bark was, in a moment, overset, und a watery grave seemed to be the inevitable doom of the whole party." — " The eye rested with delight on the long, low range of beautifully tinted clouds, which skirted the ho- rizon." — " The power o^ faith was the subject of the preach- er's discourse." Rule III. All correspondent, and all antithetic, or con- .rasted words, require a force sufficient to distinguish them from all the other words in a sentence, and to make them stand out prominently. When the comparison or contrast is of equal force, in its constituent parts, the emphasis is exactly balanced, in the words to which it is applied : when one of the objects compared or contrasted, is meant to preponderate over the other, the emphasis is stronger on the word by which the preponderance is expressed. Examples. " The gospel is preached equally to the rich and to the poor.'" — " Custom is the plague, of wise men, and the idol o[ fools.'" — " The man is more knave than fool.''^ Exercises hi ' Relative ' Emphasis. 1. " Virtue II is better than riches'." 2. " Study II not so much to shoto knowledge, as to acquire it." 3. " They went e+it fro9?i us, but they were not of us." 4. " He I that cannot bear a jest, should not make one." 5. " It is not so easy to hide one's faults, as to me7id them." 6. " I I that denied thee gold, will give my heart." 7. " You have done that | you shoidd be sorry for." S. " Why beholdest thou the mote II that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam II that is in thine oivn eye ?" 9. " As it is the part o^ justice II never to do violence; so it is the part of modesty II never to commit offence." 10. '■'■ A. friend II cannot be known II in prosperity; and an enemy II cannot be hidden II in adversity." 30 AMERICAN COMMOIt-BCHOOL [PART I. Note. Emphatic clauses, (those in which every word if emphatic,) are sometimes pronounced on a lower, sometime* on a higher key, but always with an intense force. Examples. 1. " Heaven and earth will v/itness, — If ' Rome ' must ' fall, — that 7ve II are innocent.' 2. " This state had then 7io( one ship, — no, not ' one ' WALL ! " 3. " But youth, it seems, is not my only crime : I have been accused II of acting a theatrical part." 4. " As to the present ministry, I cannot give them my con- fidence. Pardon mc, gentlemen : Confidence is a plant of SLOW groioth." General Remark. Young readers are commonly deficient in em- phasis, and, hence, feeble and unimpressive, in their style of read- ing. Teachers should exert much vigilance on this point. At the same time, an overdone emphasis is one of the surest indications of defective judgment and bad taste. Faults which result from study are always the most offensive. [AppUcation — See page 87.] ^ VIII. — CORllKCT INFLECTIONS. ' Inflection' in elocution, signifies an upward or downward * slide ' of voice, from the average, or level of a sentence. There are two simple ' inflections', or ' slides', — the upward or ' rising', and the downward or ' falling'. The former is usually marked by the acute accent, ['] — the latter, by the grave accent, [^]. The union of these two inflections, on the same syllable, is called the ' circumflex', or ' wave'. — When the circumflex commences with the falling inflection, and ends with the ris- ing, it is called the ' rising circumflex', — [marked thus v,] — when it begins with the rising, and ends with the falling, it is called the ' falling circumflex', — [marked thus, '^]. When the tone of the voice has no upward or dowmward slide, but keeps comparatively level, it is called the ' mono- tone', — [marked thus ~]. Examples : RisiNft inflection, — ' Intensive', or high, up- ward slide, as in the tone of surprise, " Ha ! Is it possible ! " — in the usual tone of a question that may be answered by Yes or No,"' Is it really so?" — 'Moderate' rising inflection, as at the end of a clause which leaves the sense dependent on what fdUews it. " If we are sincerely desirous of advanc- PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 31 ing in knowledge, we shall not be sparing of exertion." — ' Slight ' rising inflection, as when the voice is suddenly and unexpectedly interrupted : " When the visitor entered the r6oni " ^ * * ^ Note. The last mentioned inflection, may, for distinction's sake, be marked as above, to indicate the absence of any positive upward or downward slide, and, at the same time, to distinguish it from the intentional and prolonged level of the ' monotone.' 'Falling' inflection, — ' intensive', or bold and low down- ward slide, as in the tone of anger and scorn : " Down, sooth- less hisulter .'" — The 'full', falling inflection, as in the cadence at a period : " All his efforts were in vain." The ' moderate ' falling inflection, as at the end of a clause which forms complete sense : " Do not presume on wealth ; it may be swept from you in a mom.ent." " The horses were harnessed; the carriages were driven up to the door; the party were seated ; and, in a few moments, the mansion was left to its former silence and solitude." The ' suspensive', or slight falling inflection, as in the members of a ' series', or sequence of words and clauses, in the same syntactical connexion : " The force, the size, the weight, of the ship, bore the schooner down below the waves." " The irresistible furce, the vast size, the prodigious weight of the ship, rendered the destruction of the schooner in- evitable." The ' suspensive ' downward slide, is marked as above, to distinguish it from the deeper inflection at the end of a clause, or of a sentence. table of contrasted inflections. The Rising folloioed by the Falling. 1. " Will you go, or stay?" 2. " Will you ride, or walk ? " 3. " Did he travel for health, or for pleasure ?" 4. " Does he pronounce correctly, or incorrectly ? " 5. " Is it the rising, or the falling inflection ? " The Falling foUoioed ly the Rising. 1. "I would rather go than stay." 2. " I would rather walk than ride." 3. " He travelled for health, not pleasure." 4. " He pronounces correctly, not incorrectly." 5. " It is the falling, not the rising inflection." 32 AMEUICAN COiMMON-BCHOOL [PART I. EXAMPLES OF CIRCUMFLEX. Tone of Mockery. " I 've ciiught you, then, at last ! " Tro7iy. " Courajreoiis chief ! — the first in flight from pain !" Punning. " And though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat slieep. He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep." EXAMPLE OF MONOTONE. Awe and Horror. " I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow Qp thy soul, freeze thy young blood, ]\Iake thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part. And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine." Rules on the Rising Injieclion. Rule I. The ' intensive' or high rising inflection, expresses surprise and wonder. — Example. "Ha! laugh'st thou, Lo- chiel, ray vision to scorn ? " Rule n. The 'moderate' rising inflection takes place, where the sense is incomplete, and depends on something which follows. — Ex. " As we cannot discern the shadow moving along the dial-plale, so we cannot always trace our progress in knowledge." Note. Words and phrases of address, as they are merely introductory expressions, take the ' moderate rising inflection.' — Exaynple 1. " Friends, I come not here to talk." — 2. " Sir, I deny that the assertion is correct." — 3. " Soldiers, you fight for home and liberty ! " Exception. In emphatic and in lengthened phrases of ad- dress, the falling inflection takes place. — Example 1. " On ! ye brave, who rush to glory or the graA'e ! " — 2. " Soldiers ! if my standard falls, look for the plume upon your Mng's hel- met .'"* — 3. " My friends, my followers, and my children ! the field we have entered, is one from which there is no retreat." — 4. " Gentlemen and knights, — commoners and soldiers, Edward the Fourth upon his throne, will not profit by a vic- tory more than you." Rule HI. The ' suspensive', or slight rising inflection, oc- curs, when expression is suddenly broken off, as in the fol- lowing passage in dialogue. * Shniitins: tone. PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. ^ Ex. Poet. " The poisoning dame — Friend. You m^an — P. I don't. F. You do." JSote. This inflection, prolonged, is used in the appropriate tone of reading verse, or of poetic prose, when not emphatic, instead of a distinct rising or falling inflection, which would have the ordinary effect of prosaic utterance, or would divest the expression of all its beauty. Ex. 1. " Here waters, woods, and winds in concert join." 2. " And flecks, woods, streams around, repose and peace impart." 3. " The wild brook babbling down the mountain's side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd, dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide, The clamorous horn, along the clifTs ab6ve ; The hollow murmur of the ocean tide ; The hum of bees, the linnet's lay of love,* And the full choir that wakes the universal grove." 4. " White houses peep through the trees ; cattle stand cooling in the pool ; the casement of the farm-house is cov- ered with jessamine and honeysuckle ; * the stately green- house exhales the perfume of summer climates." Rule IV. A question which may be answered by Yes or No, usually ends with the rising inflection. — Example. " Do you see yon cloud ? " Exception. Emphasis, as in the tone of impatience, of ex- treme earnestness, or of remonstrance, may, in such cases as the above, take the falling inflection. — Example. " Cd,n you be so infatuated as to pursue a course which you know will end in your ruin ! " — " Will 3^011 blindly rush on destriic- tion ? " — " Would you say so, if the case were your own?" Rule V. The penultimate, or last inflection but one, is, in most sentences, a rising slide, by which the voice prepares for an easy and natural descent at the cadence. — Example. " The rocks crumble, the trees fall, the leaves fade, and the grass withers." £.Tcep^2o?z.^ Emphasis may sometimes make the penulti- mate inflection fall, instead of rising ; as the abruptness of that slide gives a more forcible effect. — Example. " They have rushed through like a hurricane ; like an army of 16- * The penultimate inflection of a sentence, or a stanza, usually rises, so as to prepare for an easy rnrlencp. Sep Kut.f. V. 4 31 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOr, [PART I. custs, they have devoured the earth ; the war lias fallen like a water spout, and dchiged tlie laiul with blood." Rules on the Falling I?t/lectio7i. Rule I. The ' intensive, downward slide', or ' low', falling inflection, occurs in the emphasis of vehement emotion. — £2;- ainple. " On ! ON ! to the just and the glorious strife ! " Rule II. The ' full ' falling inflection usually takes place at the cadence, or close, of a sentence. — Example. " No life is pleasing to God, but that which is useful to mankind." « Exception. When the meaning expressed at the close of one sentence, is modified by the sense of the next, the voice may rise, instead of falling. — Examples. " We are not here to discuss this question. We are come to act upon it." — " Gentlemen may cry ' peace, peace ! ' But there is no peace." Rule III. The ' moderate ' falling inflection occurs at the end of a clause which forms complete sense, independently of what follows it. — Example. " Law and order are forgot- ten : violence and rapine are abroad : the golden cords of society are loosed." Exception. Plaintive expression, and poetic style, whether in the form of verse or of prose, take the ' slight ' rising in- flection, in its prolonged form. Example 1. " Cold o'er his limbs the listless languor grew; Paleness came o'er his eye of placid blue ; Pale mourned the lily where the rose had died ; And timid, trembling, came he to my side." 2. " The oaks of the mountains fall : the mountains them- selves decay with years; the ocean shrinks and grows again; the moon herself is lost in heaven ;* but thou art for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course." Rule IV. The ' suspensive', or slight falling inflection, takes place in every member but one of the ' series', or suc- cessive words and clauses, connected by the same conjunction, expressed or understood. Note 1. A succession of toords is termed a ' simple series', — a succession of clauses, a ' compound series.' A succes- sion of words which leave sense incomplete, is termed a ' commencing series', that which leaves complete sense, a 'concluding series'. — A 'commencing series' is read with * Rising slide, for '•ontrast to the following clause. PART I.] KEADER AND SPEAKER. 35 the ' suspensive', or slight falling inflection, on every member but the last; a concluding series, with the 'suspensive' slide on every member, except the penultimate, or last but one. Examples. ' Simple Commencing Series' : " The dir, the ^arth, the water, teem with delighted existence." — ' Simple Concluding Series': "Delighted existence teems in the dir, the earth,* and the water."f — ' Compound Commencing Se- ries' : " The fluid expanse of the ^ir, the surface of the solid ^arth, the liquid element of water, teem with delighted exist- ence." — 'Compound Concluding Series': "Delighted exist- erfce teems in the fluid expanse of the air, the surface of the solid earth,* and the liquid element of water."! Exception 1. Emphatic, abrupt, and disconnected series, may have the 'moderate' or the 'bold' downward slide, on every member, according to the intensitj^ of expression. Examples: 1. "His success, his fame, his life, were all at stake." — 2. "The roaring of the wind, the rushing of the water, the darkness of the night, all conspired to overwhelm his guilty spirit with dread." — 3. " Eloquence is action, noble, sublime, godlike action." — 4. " The shore, which, but a few moments before, lay so lovely in its calm serenity, gilded with the beams of the level sun, now resounded with the roar of cannon, the shouts of battle, the clash of drms, the curses of hatred, the shrieks of agony." Exception 2. Light and humorous description, gives the ' moderate ' upward slide to all the members of a series. Example. " Her books, her music, her papers, her clothes, were all lying about the room, in ' most admired disorder.' " Exception 3. The language of pathos, (pity,) tenderness, and beauty, — whether in verse or prose, — takes the ' suspen- sive', or slight rising inflection, except in the last member of the ' commencing', and the last but one of the ' concluding ' ' series', which have the usual ' moderate ' rising inflection. Ex. : 1. " No mournful flowers, by weeping fondness laid. Nor pink, nor rose, drooped, on his breast displayed." 2. " There rapt in gratitude, and joy, and love, The man of God will pass the Sabbath noon." 3. " There, (in the grave,) vile insects consume the hand of the cirtist, the brain of the philosopher, the eye which * ' Penultimate ' rising inflection, preparatory to the cadence, or clos- ing fall of voice, at the end of a sentence, f 'Full' fallins; inflection, for the cadence of a sentence. 4 36 AMEKICAN COWMON-SCllOOI- [PART X. sparkled with celestial fire, and the lip from which flowed irresistible eloquence." Note 2. All series, except the plaintive, — as by their form of numbers and repetition, they partake of the nature of ' cli- max', or increase of significaiion, — should be read with a growing intensity of voice, and a more prominent inflection on every member. Example. " The splendor of the firmament, the verdure of the earth, the varied colors of the flowers which fill the air with their fragrance, and the music of those artless voices which mingle on every tree ; all conspire to captivate our hearts, and to swell them with the most rapturous delight." This remark applies, sometimes, even to the rising inflec- tion, but, with peculiar force, to cases in which the language is obviously meant to swell progressively in effect, from word to word, or from clause to clause, and which end with a do\^mward slide, on every member, as in the following in- stance. " I tell you ^though ^Jbu, though all the w6rld, though an angel from HEAVEN, should declare the truth of it, I could not believe it." Rule V. All questions which cannot be answered by Yes or iVb, end with the falling inflection. Ex.: 1. "When will you cease to trifle?" 2. "Where can his equal be f6und?" 3. " Who has the hardihood to maintain such an ass^r tion ?" 4. " Why come not on these victors proud ?" 5. " What was the object of his ambition ?" 6. " How can such a purpose be accomplished V Exception. The tone of real or affected surprise, throwY* such questions, when repeated, into the form of the rising in- flection. — Example. " How can such a purpose be accom- plished ! — To the diligent all things are possible." Both inflections, — the Rising and the Falling, — in connexion. Rule I. When negation is opposed to affirmation, the for- mer has the rising, the latter the falling inflection, in what- ever order they occur, and whether in the same or in different sentences. Examples: 1. " He did not call me, but y6u." 2. " He was esteemed not for wealth, but for wisdom." n. " Study not for ami'isement, but for improvement." PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 3^ 4. " He called ybii, not me." 5. " He was esteemed for wisdom, not for wealth." 6. " Study for improvement, not for amusement." 7. " This proposal is not a mere idle compliment. It pro- ceeds from the sincerest and deepest feelings of our hearts." 8. " Howard visited all Europe, not to survey the sump- tuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples ; not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur ; not to form a scale of the curiosities of modern art ; not to collect medals or collate manuscripts ; but to dive into the depth of dungeons ; topliinge into the infection of hospitals ; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain ; to take the gauge and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten, to attend to the neglect- ed, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the dis- tresses of all men in all countries." Note. A similar principle applies to the reading of conces- sions and of unequal anlftlSeses, or contrasts. In the latter, the less important member has the rising, and the preponder- ant one, the falling inflection, in whatever part of a sentence they occur, and even in separate sentences. Example: 1. "Science may raise you to eminence. But virtue alone can guide you to happiness." 2. " I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, Than I will wrong such honorable men." Exception. When negation is emphatic or preponderant, it takes the falling inflection. — Example 1. He may yield to persuasion, but he will never submit to force." — 2. " We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed ; perplexed, but not in despair ; persecuted, but not forsaken ; cast down, but not destr6yed." Rule II. In question and answer, the falling inflection ends as far below the average level of the sentence, as the rising ends above it. In this way, a certain exact corre- spondence of sound to sound, in the inflections, is produced, which gives to the full downward slide of the answer, a de- cisive and satisfactory intonation, as a reply to the rising slide of the question. Examples: 1. " Are they Hebrews ? — So am "I. Are they Israelites ? — So am H." 2. "What would content you, in a political leader? — Talent ? N6 !— Enterprise ? No !— Courage ? No !— Repu- 4 38 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. tdtion ? Nci ! — * Virtue ? N6 ! — The man whom you would select, should possess not one, but all of these." Rule III. When a question consists of two contrasted parts, connected in syntax, by the conjunction Or, used in a disjunctive sense, tlie former lias the rising, and the latter, the falling inflection. Ex. : 1. " Does he mean you, or me ? " 2. " Is this book yours, or mine ?" 3. " Did you see him, or his brother ? " 4. " Are the people virtuous, or vicious ; intelligent, or ig- norant; affluent, or indigent ? " Note. When Or is used conjunctively, the second inflec- tion does not fall, but rises higher than the first. — Example. " Would the influence of the Bible, — even if it were not the record of a divine revelation, be to render princes more tyran- nical, or subjects more ungovernable ; the rich more insolent, or the poor more disorderly ; would it make worse parents, or children, — husbands, or wives, — masters, or servants, — friends, or neighbors ? — ort would it not make men more vir- tuous,! and, consequently, more happy, in every situation ? " Rule on the Circumflex, or Wave. The circumflex, or wave, applies to all expressions used in a peculiar sense, or with a double meaning, and to the tones of mockery, sarcasm, and iroTiy. Examples: 1. "You may avoid a quarrel with an if." — "Your if is the only peacemaker: much virtue in an if." 2. " From the very first night, — and to say it I 'm bold, — I 've been so very hot, that 1 'm sure I 've caught cold !" 3. " Go hang a calfskin on these reCTeant limbs !" 4. " What a beautiful piece of work you have made by your carelessness !" 5. " The weights had never been accused of light con- duct." Rule on the Monotone. The tones of grand and sublime description, profound rev- erence, or awe, of amazement and horror, are marked by the monotone, or perfect level of voice. * In successive questions, the rising inflection becomes higher aJ every stage, unless the last has, as in the above example, the falling vc flection of consummating emphasis. t The last Or is used disjunctively, and forms an example to the Rule, and not to the Note. PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 39 Note. A mono j^ne is always on a lower pitch than the preceding part of a sentence ; and, to give the greater effect to its deep solemn note, — which resembles the tolling of a heavy bell, — it sometimes destroys all comma pauses, and keeps up one continuous stream of overflowing sound. Exam. 1. " His form had not yet lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured. As when the sun, new-risen, Look^s through the horizontal misty air. Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds • On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs." 2. " And I saw a great white throne and Him that sat on it, from whose face the heavens and the earth fled away ; and there was found no place for them." 3. " Upon my seciire hour thy uncle stole. With juice of*cursed hebenon in a vial. And in the porches of mine ears did pour The leperous distilment : whose effect Holds such an enmity with blood of man. That swift as (quicksilver it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body, And, with a siidden vigor, it doth posset And ciird, like eao-er droppings into milk. The thin and wholesome bl5od ; so did it mine ; And a most instant tetter barked about, Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome criist, All my smooth body." Ride on ^Harmonic^ hiJlectio7is. ' Harmonic ' inflections, — or those which, in emphatic phrases, are intended to prevent the frequent occurrence of emphasis in the same phrase, from becoming monotonous to the ear, — are applied in clauses of which every word is em- phatic, and is marked by a distinct and separate inflection. Example. " He has been guilty of one of the most shame- ful acts II that ever degraded \ the nature II or the name II of MAN." Note. In such cases the inflections iisually alternate, in order to give tlie more vivid and pungent force to vehement emphasis. ifO AMKUICA^^ COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. Rule 071 Repeated Words, Phrases, and Seyitences. Words, phrases, ami sentences which arc repeated forefTect, rise higher, or fall lower in inflection, besides increasing in force, at every repetition. Example 1. " From these walls a spirit shall go forth, that shall survive when this edifice, shall be 'like an unsubstan- tial pageant, faded.' It shall go forth, exulting in, but not abusing, its strength. It shall go forth, remembering, in the days of its prosperity, the pledges it gave in the time of its depression. It shall go forth, uniting a disposition to correct abuses, to redress grievances. IT SHALL GO FORTH, uniting the disposition to improve, v/ith the resolution to maintain and defend, by that spirit of unbought affection, which is the chief defence of nations." 2. " What was it, fellow-citizens, which gave to Lafayette his spotless fame? — The love of liberty. What has conse- crated his memory, in the hearts of good men ? — The love OF LIBERTY. What nerved his youthful arm with strength, and inspired him in the morning of his days, with sagacity and counsel?— THE LIVLNG LOVE OF LIBERTY. To what did he sacrifice power, and rank, and country, and free- dom itself?— TO THE LOVE OF LIBERTY PRO- TECTED BY LAW." EXERCISES ON INFLECTIONS. Rising Inflection. Rule I.* — ' High Rising Inflection'. — 1. " Hd ! say you so ? " 2. " What 1 — confer a cr6wn on the author of the public calamities?" 3. " Indeed I — acknowledge a traitor for our sovereign ?" Rule II. ' Moderate Rising Inflection.' — Exercise 1. "In every station which Washington was called to fill, he acquit- ted himself with honor." 2. " As the evening was now far advanced, the party broke up." 3 " Where your treasure is, there will your heart be ' also." * The pupil should repeat each rule from memory, before commenc jng the practice of the exercises adapted to it. PART 1.] READER AND SPEAKER. 41 4. " Though we cannot discern the reasons which regulate the occurrence of events, we may rest assured that nothing can happen without the cognizance of Infinite Wisdom." 5. " Despairing of any way of escape from the perils which surrounded him, he abandoned his struggles, and gave him- self up to what seemed his inevitable doom." 6. " Had I sufiered such enormities to pass unpunished, I should have deemed myself recreant to every principle of justice and of duty." Note and Exception. ' Words and phrases of address'. — Exercise. " Listen, Americans, to the lesson which seems borne to us on the very air we breathe, while we perform these dutiful rights. — Ye winds, that wafted the pilgrims to the land of promise, fan, in their children's hearts, the love of freedom ! Blood which our fathers shed, cry from the ground ; — echoing arches of this renowned hall, whisper back the voices of other days ; — glorious Washington ! break the long silence of that votive canvass ; — speak, speak, mar- ble lips ; — teach us the love of liberty protected by LAW !" Rule III. Note. — ' Poetic Series'. — Example 1. " P6wer, will, sensation, memory, failed in turn." 2 " Oh ! the dread mingling, in that awful hour, Of all terrific sounds ! — the savage tone Of the wild horn, the cannon's peal, the shower Of hissing darts, the crash of walls o'erthrown, The deep, dull, tambour's beat ! " 3. " All the while, A ceaseless murmur from the populous town, Swells o'er these solitudes ; a mingled sound Of jarring wheels, and iron hoofs that clash Upon the stony ways, and hammer clang. And oreak of engines lifting ponderous bulks, And calls and cries,* and tread of eager feet Innumerable, hurrying to and fro." 4, " Onward still the remote Pawnee and Mandan will beckon, whither the deer are flying, and the wild horse r6ams, where the buffalo ranges, and the condor soars, — far towards the waves where the stars plunge at midnight, and amid which bloom those ideal scenes for the persecuted s4v- * See foot note on next page. 4 =»fe 43 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAHT I. age, where white men will murder no more for g6Id,* nor startle the game upon the suns])ine hills." Rule IV. ' Questions which may be answered by Yes or No\ — Exercise 1. " Has not the patronage of peers increased ? Is not the patronage of India now Vested in the crown ? Are all these innovations to be made to increase the influence of the executive power; and is nothing to be done in favor of the popular part of the constitution, to act as a counterpoise ?" 2. " Your st*eps were hasty ; — did you speed for nothing ? Your breath is scanty ; — was it spent for nothing ? Your looks "imply concern ; — concern for nothing?" Exception. ' Emphasis'. — Exercise 1. " Tell me not of the honor of belonging to a free country. — I ask, does our liberty bear generoiis Jriiits 1 " 2. " Was there a village or a hamlet on Massachusetts Bay, which did not gather its hardy seamen to man the gun- decks of your ships of war? Did they not rally to the battle, as men flock to a feast ? " 3. "Is there a man among you, so lost to his dignity and his duty, as to withhold his aid at a moment like this ? " Rule V. ' Penultimate Inflection'. — Exercise 1. " All is doubt, distrust,^^ and disgrace ; and, in this instance, rely on it, that the certain and fatal result will be to make Ireland hate the connexion, contemn the councils of England, and despise her power." 2. " I am at a loss to reconcile the conduct of men, who, at this moment, rise up as champions of the East India Com- pany's charter ; although the incompetence of that company to an adequate discharge of the trust deposited in them, are themes of ridicule and contempt to all the world; and, al- though, in consequence of their mismanagement, connivance, and imbecility, combined with the wickedness of their ser- vants, the very name of an Englishman is detested, even to a proverb, through all Asia ; and the national character is be- come disgraced and dishonored." 3. " It will be the duty of the historian and the sage, in all ages, to omit no occasion of commemorating that illustrious man ; and, till time shall be no more, will a test of the pro- gress which our race made in wisdom and in virtue, be de- * The penultimate inflection of a concluding series, or of a clause that forms perfect sense, is the same in kind with that which precedes a period, except in verse and poetic prose, which, in long passages of great beauty, retain the suspensive slide. PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 43 rived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of Washington." Exception. ' Emphasis'. — Exercise 1. " Let us bless and hallow our dwellings as the homes of freedom. Let us make them, too, the homes of a nobler freedom, — of freedom from vice, from evil passion, — from every corrupting bondage of the soul ! " 2. " If guilty, let us calmly abide the results, and peace- ably submit to our sentence ; but if we ai'e traduced, and really be innocent, tell ministers the truth, — tell them they are tyrants; and strain every effort to avert their oppression." 3. " Heaven has imprinted in the mother's face something bey6nd this world, something which claims kindred with the skies, — the ane-eiic smile, the tender look, the waking, watch- ful eye, which keeps its fond vigil over her slumbering babe. — In the heart of man lies this lovely picture ; it lives in his sympathies ; it reigns in his affections ; his eye looks round, in vain, for such another object on earth." Falling Inflection. Eule I. ' Intensive Downward Slide.' Exercise 1. " Up ! all who love me ! blow on BLOW ! And lay the outlaioed fdo7is low ! " 2., " ' Macgregor ! MACGREGOR ! ' he bitterly cried." 3. " On ! countrymen, ON ! — for the day, — The proud day of glory, — is come ! " 4. " To Xrms ! gallant Frenchmen, to ARMS ? " 5. " Oh ! SHAME on us, countrymen, shame on us ALL ! If we cringe to so dastard a race ! " 6. " Trimble, ye traitors ! whose schemes ' Are alike by all parties abhorred, — TREMBLE ! for, roused from your parricide dreams, Ye shall soon meet your fitting reward ! " Rule II. 'Full' Falling Inflection, in the cadence of a sentence. — Exercise 1. " The changes of the year impart a color and character to our thoughts and feelings." 2. " To a lover of nature and of wisdom, the vicissitude of seasons conveys a proof and exhibition of the wise and be- nevolent contrivance of the Author of all things." 3. " He who can approach the cradle of sleeping inno- cence without thinking that ' of such is the kingdom of heaven,' or see the fond parent hang over its beauties, and half retain her breath, lest she should break its slumbers, — without a veneration beyond all common feeling, — is to be avoided in every intercourse of life, and is fit only for the shadow of darkness, and the solitude of the desert." 44 AMERICAN COMMON-SCUOOL [PART 1 Exception. ' Modified Cadence'. — Exercise 1. " This mon- uinonl is a plain shaft. It bears no inscription, fronting the rising sun, t'roni which the future antiquarian shall wipe the dust. Nor docs the rising sun cause tones of music to issue from its summit. But at the rising of the sun, and at the setting of the sun, in the blaze of noon-day, and beneath the milder etrulgence of lunar light, it speaks, it acts, to the full comprehension of every American mind, and the awakening of glowing enthusiasm in every American heart." 2. " I speak not to you, sir, of your own outcast condition. — You perhaps delight in the perils of martyrdom. I speak not to those around me, who, in their persons, their sub- stance, and their families, have endured the torture, poverty, and irremediable dishonor. They may be meek and hallowed men, — willing to endure." 3. " The foundation on which you have built your hopes, may seem to you deep and firm. But the swelling flood, and the howling blast, and the beating rain, will prove it to be but treacherous sand." Rule III. 'iModerate' Falling Inflection, of complete sense. Exercise 1. " Animal existence is made up of action and slumber: nature has provided a season for each." 2. " Two points are manifest : first, that the animal frame requires sleep ; secondly, that night brings with it a silence, and a cessation of activity, which allow of sleep being taken w^ilhout interruption, and Avithout loss." 3. " Joy is too brilliant a thing to be confined within our own bosoms : it burnishes all nature, and, with its vivid col- oring, gives a kind of factitious life to objects without sense or motion." 4. " When men are wanting, we address the animal crea- tion ; and, rather than have none to partake our feelings, we find sentiment in the music of birds, the hum of insects, and the low of kine : na f, we call on rocks and streams and for- ests, to witness and share our emotions." 5. "I have done my duty: — I stand acquitted to my con- science and my country : — I have opposed this measure throughout ; and I now protest against it, as harsh, oppress- ive, uncalled for, unjust, — as establishing an infamous prece- dent, by retaliating crime against crime, — as tyrannous, — cruelly and vindictively tyrannous." Exception. ' Plaintive Expression'. Exercise 1. "I see the cloud and the tempest near, The voice of the troubled tide I h^ar ; PART 1.] READER AND SPEAKER. ' 4S The torrent of sorrow, the sea of grief, The rushing waves of a wretched life." 2. " No deep-mouthed hound the hunter's haunt betrayed, No lights upon the shore or waters played, No loud laugh broke upon the silent air. To tell the wanderers man was nestling there." 3. " The dead leaves strow the forest walk, And withered are the pale wild flowers ; The frost hangs blackening on the stalk, The dew-drops fall in frozen showers : — Gone are the spring's green sprouting biwers, Gone summer's rich and mantling vines; And Autumn, with her yellow hours, On hill and plain no longer shines." 4. " What is human life, but a waking dream, — a long reverie, — in which we walk as ' in a vain show, and disquiet ourselves for naught ? ' In childhood, we are surrounded by a dim, unconscious present, in which all palpable realities seem for ever to elude our grasp ; in youth, we arc but gazing into the far future of that life for which we are consciously preparing ; in manhood, we are lost in ceaseless activity and enterprise, and already looking forAvard to a season of quiet and repose, in which we are to find ourselves, and listen to a voice within ; and in old age, we are dwelling on the sha- dows of the past,* and gilding them with the evanescent glow which emanates from the setting sun of life." Rule IV. and Note 1. 'Simple Comme7icing Series.' Ex. 1. " The old and the young are alike exposed to the shafts of Death." 2. " The healthy, the temperate, and the virtuous, enjoy the true relish of pleasure." 3. " Birth, rank, wealth, learning, are advantages of slight value, if unaccompanied by personal worth." 4. " Gentleness, patience, kindness, candor, and courtesy, form the elements of every truly amiable character." 5. " Sympathy, disinterestedness, magnanimity, generos- ity, liberiility, and self-forgetfulness, are qualities which uni- versally secure the esteem and admiration of mankind." ' Compo7ind Commencing Series.' Exercise 1. " In a rich soil, and under a soft climate, the weeds of luxury will spring up amid the flowers of art." * Falling slide of contrast to the preceding clause. 46 AMIilUCAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. 2. " All the wise institutions of t1ie lawgiver, all the doc- trines of the s;lge, all the ennobling strains of the poet, had perished in the ear, like a dream related, if letters had not preserved them." 3. " The dimensions and distances of the pMnets, the causes of their revoh'itions, the path of comets, and the ebb- ing and flowing of tides, are now understood and explained." 4. " The mighty pyramid, half buried in the sands of Africa, has nothing to bring down and report to us, but the power of kings, and the servitude of the people. If asked for its mural object, its admonition,^ its sentiment, its instruc- tion to mankind, or any high end in its erection, it is silent; — silent as the millions which lie in the dust at its base, and in the catacombs which surround it." 5. " Yes, — let me be free ;t let me go and come at my own will ; let me do business, and make journeys, without a vexatious police or insolent soldiery to watch my steps ; let me think, and do, and speak, what I please, subject to no limit but that which is set by the common weal ; subject to no law but that which conscience binds upon me ; and I will bless my country, and love its most rugged rocks, and its most barren soil." Exception 3. ' Poetic and Pathetic Series'. Ex. 1. " Wheresoe'er thy lot command. Brother, pilgrim, stranger, God is ever near at hand, Golden shield from danger." 2. " Rocks of granite, gates of br^ss, Alps to heaven soaring. Bow, to let the wishes pass Of a soul imploring." 3. " From the phantoms of the night, Dreaming horror, pale affright, Thoughts wfcich rack the slumbering breast, * All emphatic series, even in suppositive and conditional expression, being, like enumeration, cumulative in effect, and corresponding, therefore, to climax in style, are propcrlj' read with a prevailing down- ward slide in the 'suspensive' or sliglit form, which belongs to incom- plete but energetic expression, and avoids, accordingly, the low inflec- tion of cadence at a period. •f- Emphasis, and length of clause, may substitute the 'moderate' falling slide for the slight ' suspensive ' one. But the tone, in such cases, will still be perfectly free from the descent of a cadence, which belongs only to the period. PART I.] READER ANXJ SPEAKER. 47 Fears which haunt the realm of rest, And the wounded mind's remorse, And the tempter's secret force, Hide us 'neath Thy mercy's shade." 4. " From the stars of heaven, and the flowers of earth, From the pageant of power, and the voice of mirth, From the mist of the morn on the mountain's brow. From childhood's song, and affections vow ; From all save that o'er which soul * bears sway, There breathes but one record, — ' passing away ! ' " 5. " When the summer exhibits the whole force of active nature, and shines in full beauty and splendor; when the succeeding season offers its ' purple stores and golden grain,' or displays its blended and softened tints ; when the winter puts on its sullen aspect, and brings stillness and repose, af- fording a respite from the labors which have occupied the preceding months, inviting us to reflection, and compensating for the want of attractions abroad, by fireside delights and home-felt joys ; in all this interchange and variety, we find reason to acknowledge the wise and benevolent care of the God of seasons." 6. " In that solemn hour, when exhausted nature can no longer sustain itself, when the light of the eye is waxing dim, when the pulse of life is becoming low and faint, when the breath labors, and the tongue falters, when the shadow of death is falling on all outward things, and darkness is begin- ning to gather over the faces of the loved ones who are weep- ing by his bedside, a ray of immortal Hope, is beaming from his features : it is a Christian who is expiring." Note 2. — Exercise 1. ' Repeated and heightening Rising Inflection'. " I ask, will you in silence permit this invasion of your rights, at once wanton, mischievous, uncalled for, and unnecessary ? Will you patiently tolerate the annihila- tion of all freedom, — the appointment of a supreme dictator, who may, at his will, suspend all your rights, liberties, and privileges? Will you, withon* " -^-rmur of dissent, submit to a tyranny which nearly equals that of the Russian auto- crat, and is second to that of Bonaparte* ?" 2. ' Repeated and increasing Falling Inflection '.t " Was * The inflection of any clause always lies on the emphatic word ; and, if that word is a polysyllable, on the accented syllable chiefly, al- though not always exclusively. f This inflection both begins higher, and ends lower, every time it is repeated. 4S AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [pART 1. it the winter's st6rm, beating upon tlic houseless heads of wo- men 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 mined enterprise, and a broken heart ; — was it some, or all of those united, that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate ? " 3. "Yes, after he has destroyed my belief in the superin- tending providence of God, — after he has taught me that the prospect of an hereafter is but the baseless fabric of a vision, — after he has bred and nourished in me a contempt for that sacred volume which alone throws light over this benighted world, — after having argued me out of my faith by his soph- istries, or laiighed me out of it by his ridicule, — after having thus wrung from my soul every drop of consolation, and dried up my very spirit wdthin me ; — yes, after having ac- complished this in the season of my health and my prosper- ity, the skeptic would come to me while I mourn, and treat me like a drivelling idiot, whom he may sport with, because he has ruined me, and to whom, in the plenitude of his com- passion, — too late, and too unavailing, — he may talk of truths in which he himself does not believe, and which he has long exhorted me, and has at last persuaded me, to cast away as the dreams and delusions of human folly." Simple Concluding Series. Exercise 1. " It is a subject interesting alike to the old, and to the young." 2. " Nature, by the very disposition of her elements, has commanded, as it were, and imposed upon men, at moderate intervals, a general intermission of their toils, their occupa- tions, and their pursuits." 3. " The influence of true religion, is mild, and soft, and noiseless, and constant, as the descent of the evening dew on the tender herbage, nourishing and refreshing all the ami- able and social virtues ; but enthusiasm is violent, siWden, rattling as a summer shA^'pr rooting up the fairest flowers, and washing away the richest mould, in the pleasant garden of society." Compoiind Concluding Series. Exercise 1. " The winter of the good man's age is cheered with pleasing reflections on the past, and bright hopes of the future." 2. " It was a moment replete with jAy, amazement, and anxiety." PABT I.J KEADER AND SPEAKEK, 49 3. " Nothing would tend more to remove apologies for in- attention to religion, than a fair, impartial, and full account of the educiition, the chAracters, the intellectual processes, and the dying moments of those who offer them." 4. " Then it would be seen, that they had gained by their skepticism no new pleasures, no tranquillity of mind, no peace of conscience during life, and no consolation in the hour of death." 5. " Well-doing is the cause of a just sense of elevation of character ; it clears and strengthens the spirits ; it gives high- er reaches of thought ; it widens our benevolence, and makes the current of our peculiar affections swift and deep." 6. " A distant sail, gliding along the edge of the ocean, was sometimes a theme of speculation. — How interesting this fragment of a world, hastening to rejoin the great mass of existence ! What a glorious monument of human invention, that has thus triumphed over wind and Wiive ; has brought the ends of the earth in commi'mion ; has established an in- terchange of blessings, pouring into the sterile regions of the north all the luxuries of the south* ; diffused the light of knowledge, and the charities of cultivated life ; and has thus bound together those scattered portions of the human race, be- tween which nature seemed to have thrown an insurmount- able barrier ! " Exception 1. — ' Disconnected Series'. — Exercise 1. "Youth, in the fulness of its spirits, defers religion to the sobriety of manhood ; manhood, encumbered with cafes, defers it to the leisure of old age ; old age, weak and hesitating, is unable to enter on an untried mode of life." 2. " Let me prepare for the approach of eternity ; let me give up my soul to meditation ; let solitude and silence ac- quaint me with the mysteries of devotion ; let me forget the world, and by the world be forgotten, till the moment arrives in which the veil of eternity shall fall, and I shall be found at the bar of the Almighty." 3. " Religion will grow up with you in youth, and grow old with you in age ; it will attend you, with peculiar plea- sure, to the hovels of the poor, or the chamber of the sick ; it will retire with you to your closet, and watch by your bed, or walk with you, in gladsome union, to the house of Gdd ; it will follow you beyond the confines of the world, and dwell with you for ever, in heaven, as its native residence." * Accidental Tailing' inflection,, for contrast. so AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. 'Emphatic Series'. — Exercise 1. " Assemble in your par- ishes, villa!j:es, and hamlets. Res61ve, — petition, — address.'' 2. " This monument will speak of patrir)lism and courage ; of civil and religious liberty; of free government; of the moral improvement and elevation of mankind ; and of the immortal memory of those who, with heroic devotion, have sacrificed their lives for their country." 3. "I have roamed through the^ world, to find hearts no- where warmer than those of New England, soldiers nowhere braver, patriots nowhere purer, wives and mothers nowhere truer, maidens nowhere lovelier, green valleys and bright rivers nowhere greener or brighter ; and I will not be silent, when I hear her patriotism or her truth questioned with so much as a whisper of detraction." 4. " What is the most odious species of tyranny ? That a handful of men, free themselves, should execute the most base and abominable despotism over millions of their fellow- creatures ; that innocence should be the victim of oppression ; that industry should toil for rapine ; that the harmless laborer should sweat, not for his own benefit, but for the luxury and rapacity of tyrannic depredation : — in a w6rd, that thirty mil- lions of men, gifted by Providence with the ordinary endow- ments of humanity, should groan under a system of despot- ism, unmatched in all the histories of the world." Exception 3. — ' Poetic Series'. Ex. 1. " He looks in boundless majesty abroad. And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams, High-gleaming from afar." 2. " Round thy beaming car, High-seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance Harmonious knit, the rosy-fingered Hours, The Zephyrs floating loose, the timely Rains, Of bloom ethereal, the light-footed Dews, And, softened into joy, the surly Storms." 3. " Hear him compare his happier lot, with his Who bends his way across the wintery wolds, A poor night-traveller, while the dismal snow Beats in his face, and dubious of his paths. He stops and thinks, in every lengthening blast, He hears some village mastiff's distant howl, And sees far streaming, some lone cottage light; Then, undeceived, upturns his streaming eyes, And clasps his shivering hands, or, overpowered PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. ' 51 Sinks on the frozen ground, weighed down with sleep, From which the hapless wretch shall never wake." 4. " There was neither tree, nor shrub, nor field, nor h6use, nor living creatures, nor -visible remnant of what hu- man hands had reared." 5. " And I, creature of clay, like those here cast ar6und, I travel through life, as I do on this road, with the remains of past generations strewed along my trembling path ; and, whether my journey last a few hours more or less, must still, like those here deposited, shortly rejoin the silent tenants of some cluster of tombs, and be stretched out by ihe side of some already sleeping corpse." Rule V. — [No separate exercises on this rule are deemed neces- sary ; as it is so fully illustrated in the examples to the rule.] Both I?7jleciio7is, in connexion. Rule I. — Exercise 1. " It is not a parchment pedigree, — it is not a name derived from the ashes of dead men, that make the only charter of a king. Englishmen were but slaves, if, in giving crown and sceptre to a mortal like ourselves, we ask not, in return, the kingly virtues." 2. " The true enjoyments of a reasonable being do not consist in unbounded indulgence,*" or luxurious ease, in the tumult of passions, the languor of indolence, or the flutter of light amusements. Yielding to immoral pleasures corriipts the mind ; living to animal and trifling ones, debases it : both, in their degree, disqualify it for genuine good, and con- sign it over to wretchedness." 3. • " What constitutes a state ? — Not high raised battlements, or labored mound. Thick will, or moated gate ; Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned, Not bAys and broad-armed ports, Where, laughing at the storm, proud navies ride ; Not starred and spangled courts, — Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride ! No ! — men, — high-minded men, — Men who their duties know. But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maint^tin." Note. ' Concession and Unequal Antitjiesis.' Ex. " The clouds of adversity may darken over the Christian's * The pen'jltimate inflection falls, when a sentence ends with the ris- ing slide 62 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. p4th. But he can look up wilh filial trust to the guardian care of a benefioenl Father. " 2. " I ailiuil lliat the Greeks excelled in acuteness and ver- satility of nnnd. But, in the linn and manly traits of the Roman character, I see something more noble, — more worthy of admiration." 3. " We war against the leaders of evil, — not against the helpless tools : we war against our oppressors, — not against our misguided brethren." 4. " Still, still, for ever Belter, though each man's life blood were a river, That it should flow, and overflow, than creep Through thousand lazy channels in our veins, Dammed, like the dull canal, with locks and ch6.ins, And moving, as a sick man in his sleep, Three paces, and then faltering : better be Where the extinguished Spartans still are free, In their proud charnel of Therm6pylae, Than stagnate in our marsh." Exception. 'Emphatic Negation'. Exercise 1. "I '11 keep them all ; He shall not have a Scot of them ; N6, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not." 2. " Do not descend to your graves with the disgraceful censure, that you suffered the liberties of your country to be taken away, and that you were mutes as well as cowards. Come forward, like men : protest against this atrocious at- tempt." 3. " I am not sounding the trumpet of war. There is no man who more sincerely deprecates its calamities, than I do." 4. " Rest assured that, in any case, we shall not be willing to rank last in this generous contest. You may depend on us for whatever heart or hand can do, in so noble a cause." 5. " I will cheerfully concede every reasonable demand, for the sake of peace. But I will not submit to dictation." Rule II. 'Question and Answer'. — Exercise 1. "Do you think these yells of hostility will be forgotten ? — Do you sup- pose their echo will not reach the plains of my injured and insulted country, that they will not be whispered in her green valleys, and heard from her lofty hills ? — Oh ! they loill be heard there : — yes, and they will not be forgotten." 2. " I will say, what have any classes of you, in Ireland, to hope from the French ? Is it your property you wish to pre- PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. S3 serve ? — Look to the example of Holland ; and see how that nation has preserved its property by an alliance with the French ! Is it independence you court ? — Look to the exam- ple of unhappy Switzerland : see to what a state of servile abasement that once manly territory has fallen, under France ! Is it to the establishment of Catholicity that your hopes are directed? — The conduct of the First Consul, in subverting- the power and authority of the Pope, and cultivating the friendship of the Mussulman in Egypt, under a boast of that subversion, proves the fallacy of such a reliance. — Is it civil liberty* you require? — Look to France itself, crouching un- der despotism, and groaning beneath a system of slavery, un- paralleled by whatever has disgraced or insulted any nation." 3. " Shall I be left forgotten, in the dust. When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive ? Shall Nature's voice, — to man alone unjust, — Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to live ? Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive With disappointment, penury, and pain ? No : Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive, And man's majestic beauty bloom again, Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign." Rule III. ' Disjunctive "Or'"\ — Exercise 1. " Will you rise like men, and firmly assert your rights, or will you tamely submit to be trampled on ? " 2. " Did the Romans, in their boasted introduction of civil- ization, act from a principle of humane interest in the welfare of the world ? Or did they not rather proceed on the greedy and selfish policy of aggrandizing their own nation, and ex- tending its dominion ? " 3. " Do virtuous habits, a high standard of morality, pro- ficiency in the arts and embellishments of life, depend upon physical formation, or the latitude in which we are placed ? — t Do they not depend upcn the civil and religious institu- tions which distinguish the country?" [The remaining rules on ' inflection,' as they are of less frequent application, are thought to be sufficiently illustrated by the examples appended to each rule. A repetition of these, however, may be useful, as an exercise in review.] * In paragraphs constructed like the above, the successive questions rise one above another, in inflection, so as at last to reach a very high note. f The above rule applies to cases in wliich the conjunction Or is. or may be, understood. 64 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAKT I. ^ IX. JUST STRESS. • The next characteristic of good reading and speaking, is just 'stress'. This word, — as used bj'- Dr. Rush, in his Phi- losophy of the voice, — is meant to designate a peculiar modi- fication of force, which distinguishes speech from music. A long drawn musical sound has its most forcible part, — in con- sequence of 'swell' and 'diminish', — at the middle portion of the note. The tones of speech on the contrary, — although, in a few cases, they approach to this mode of voice, — usually have the chief force of each sound at the opening or the clos- ing part. In music, the increase of force is, comparatively, gradual ; in speech and reading, it is frequently abrupt. To these distinctive modes of voice the tjerm 'stress' is applied. To understand the application of this term, in detail, it becomes necessary to advert to the mode of creating vocal sounds. In vocal music, the result is obtained by full ' inspiration', (inhaling or draw- ing in the breath,) and, comparatively slight 'expiration', (giving forth the breath.) In this mode, much breath is drawn in, much re- tained, or withheld, and little given out at a time ; and thus are pro- duced those smooth, pure, and gradually increasing tones, which are appropriate to music, — all the breath that is given forth, being con- verted into sound, and none escaping, that is not vocalized. In notes of very short duration, singing? and speech are, it is true, brought nearer to a resemblance. But this resemblance is more apparent than real ; as may be observed in the execution of every good singer, which, in the most rapid passages, still produces the genuine effect of song, as differing from speech. The resemblance is owing solelj to the brevity of sound, in such cases, which does not afford time foi broad and marked distinctions to be dravvn by the ear. The modes of voice which constitute speech, or are exem plified in reading, are the following : I. Radical Stress. This form of force includes two modes, — 'explosion' and 'expulsion'. 1. 'Explosion' is an abrupt and instantaneous burst of voice, — as, for example, in violent anger. This, being an instiiictive, unconscious, involuntary, impulsive emotion, does not allow time or disposition for any intentional or de- liberate effect, but makes the creation of vocal sound seem an irre- pressible, spontaneous, electric production of nature, lying equally out of the reach of the understanding and the will. This tone has its contrast in the deep, calm, and regular swell of the tone of rev- erence, or the ample volume, and deliberate force, of conscious authority and comman(J, in which the speaker is self-possessed and self-directed, and controls his vocal effects for purposes understood orfeh. PABT I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 55 Contrast, for instance, the following angry shout of Douglas, when enraged by the defiance of Marmion, with the examples of reverential invocation and authoritative command, which occur in sub- sequent paragraphs. Example of ^Explosion'. "Up drawbridge ! groom ! What, warder, HO ! Let the PORTCULLIS fall ! " The sounds of all the accented vowels, in this style, fall upon the ear with an instantaneous, clear, sharp, abrupt, and cutting force, at the initial or ' radical' part of each. 2. 'Expulsion', — a conscious, intentional, and deliberate force, coming upon the ear with great power ; as, for example, in the language of authoritative command. Example of ^Expulsioii '. "Vanguard ! to right and left the front unfold!" In this style, bold and forcible as it is, and even sudden as is its commencement, the accented vowels do not startle the ear with the abrupt shock of the tone of anger, exemplified above. There is a partial, though very brief, swell, perceptible, in the 'radical', or in- itial part, of each sound. — Both of the preceding examples are classed under the head of ' radical ' stress ; as their chief force lies in the 'radical', or first part of each sound. II. Median Stress. This mode of force is exhibited in, 1. 'Effusion', — a moderate, gentle, and gradual swelling of tone, — as, for example, in the calm and tranquil utterance o{ reverential feeling, in which no disturbing impulse agitates or forces out the breath, but the voice, somewhat as in music, glides out, with a smooth effusive stream of sound, enlarging as it flows, but never bursting out into irregular violence. Example of ^Effusion'. " But chiefly Thou, O Spirit ! that dost prefer, Before all temples, the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for Thou know'st." The ' effusive' style avoids every thing abrupt or sudden in the formation of sound, and swells gradually to its ' acm^', (chief point,) at the middle of each sound, — in the manner of music ; and from this point 'diminishes', or decreases, to the close. This species of 'stress' is accordingly denominated 'median', — from the word me- dium, or middle. 2. 'Suppression', — a powerful force of 'explosion' or 'ex- pulsion', kept down, in the very act of giving forth the voice, and converted into the 'median' form, as in the case of a per- son communicating, in great earnestness of feeling, with an- 66 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. Other, standincf al a distance, and yel exceedingly anxious not to be heard by a third person, slill farther oil', — or, as in the tone of extreme earnestness, uttered by the watcher in the chamber of a sick jierson. Examples of ^Suppression'. 1. " Hark ! James, listen ! for I must not speak loud. I do not wish John to hear what I am saying ! " 2. " Stop softly ! speak low ! make no noise ! " This mode of voice may be termed a ' half whisper'; it is the ' as- pirated' and' impure' tone, which lies halfway between the ordinary tone of the voice and a whisper. It is caused by allowing a vast quantity of breath, not ' vocali/ed ' , to rush out along with the sound of the voice. It is, in fact, 'explosion', or 'expulsion', merged, as it were, or drowned, in a stream of ' aspiration', and made to assume the style of ' median stress' . III. Vanishing Stress. Besides the 'radical', or initial, and the 'median', or middle, 'stress', there is also a 'vanish- ing', or final 'stress', which begins softly, swells onward, and bursts out suddenly, and leaves oft^ abruptly, at the very close of a sound, as in the jerking termination of the tone of i?«- patient feeling. Thus, in the language of maddened impatience, as uttered by Queen Constance, in her frenzy of grief and disappointment, at the overthrow of all her hopes for her son, in consequence of the peace formed between France and England : Example of ^Vanishing Stress'. "War ! war ! — no peace : peace is to me a war ! " In tones of this class, the voice withholds its force, and delays the explosion or expulsion, till the last moment of the emphatic sound, and then throws it out with an abrupt, wrenching force, which re- sembles that of a stone suddenly jerked from the hand. This species of stress, as it lies at the ' vanish', or last point, of a sound, is termed 'vanishing stress'. IV. Compound Stress. The designation of 'compound stress', is applied to that mode of forming tones, which throws out the force of the voice in such a manner as to mark, with great precision, the 'radical' and the 'vanish', or the beginning and the end, of each accented or emphatic sound. Thus, in the tone of surprise, which is marked by a bold, ' upward slide', beginning very low, and ending very high, the voice strikes with peculiar force on the first and last points of the slide, in order to stamp it more distinctly on the ear, as the vehicle of intense enfo- tion. A striking example again occurs in the language of Queen PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER, 87 Constance, in the situation mentioned before, when overwhelmed with astonishment at the news she has just received. Example of ' Compound Stress \ " Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace ! Gone to be friends ! " V. Thorough Stress. This designation is applied to that species of force, which marks all the forms of 'stress', 'radi- cal', ' median', and ' vanishing', with intense power, on the same sound ; so as to cause the character of all to be deeply felt, as in a bold shout, or any other very impressive form of voice, which indicates intense emotion. Example of ' Thorough Stress '. " Awake ! arise ! or be for ever fallen ! " In this shout of the arch-fiend to his fallen host, the tone, it •yill be perceived, is not that of mere volume or quantity, of mere loud- ness or physical force, as in the mechanical act of calling, or the voice of a public crier. It has the wide ' falling inflection' of author- ity and command, and the forcible ' radical' stress and 'expulsive' ut- terance of courage; and to preserve the effect of all these, it must not only begin and close vividly, but exhibit a ' median' ' swell', and a distinct ' vanish'. It must, in other words, give distinctive force and character to the beginning, the middle, and the end of each ac- cented sound. VI. Intermittent Stress, or Tremor. The 'tremor', (trembling,) or ' intermittent ' stress, takes place in the utter- ance of all those emotions which enfeeble the voice, by their overpowering effect on feeling ; as, for example, in fear and grief and sometimes joy, when extreme. This mode of ut- terance characterizes, also, the feeble voice of age, or the tone of a person shivering with cold. Examples of the former will be found in the section on 'Expressive Tones'. Of the latter we have instances in the language, both of the old woman and the farmer, in Wordsworth's ballad, ' Goody Blake and Harry Gill'. Examples of Tremor. 1. " She prayed, her withered hand uprearing, While Harry held her by the arm, — rm T \ ^God '. ivho art never out of hearing, \ Tremor \ { rn. t i. i m» L -* ( Uh ! may he never more be warrn .' 2. " No word to any man he utters, Abed or up, to young or old ; But ever to himself he mutters, [tr.] ^Poor Harry Gill is very cold !'" 58 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. Exact discrimination and disciplined facility, in distinguisliing and exeeutini^ tlic dillerent forms of 'stress', are indispensable to the life and appro|>riatencss of good reading. Without the command of clear and full ' radical stress', the voice has no elficacy : without the expression embodied in tiic 'median' and 'vanishing' forms, it is destitute of feeling. The preceding examples should be practised till they become perfectly familiar. The importance of this branch of elocution, in connexion with expressive tones, will be yet more distinctly perceived, when the student arrives at that stage of the subject, in which frequent references are made to the distinctions of ' stress'. ^ X. EXPRESSIVE TONES. The word 'tone', in elocution, may be used, as in music to signify the interval which exists in successive sounds of the voice, as they occur in the gamut, or musical scale. But it is commonly used as eijuivalent, nearly, to the term 'expres- sion', in music, by which is meant the mode of voice as adapted, or not adapted, to feeling. Thus we sneak of the ' tones' of passion, — of a ' false' tone, — of a 'school' tone. Every tone of the voice implies, 1. a certain 'force', or 'quantity', of sound; — 2. a particular 'note', or 'pitch'; — 3. a given 'time', or 'inovement'; — 4. a peculiar 'strfs.s '; — 5. a special 'quality', or character ; — 6. a predominating 'in- flection'. Thus, the tone of aive, has a ' very soft force', a ' very low pitch', a ' very slow movement', ' median stress', and ' pectoral quality', or that deep murmuring resonance, which makes the voice seetn as it were partially muffled in the chest, together Avith a partial ' monotone', prevailing at the opening of every clause, and every sentence. All these properties belong to the natural utterance of awe ; take away any one, and the effect of emotion is lost, — the expression sounds deficient to the ear. [xx] Example 1. " The bell | strikes | 6ne. — We take [oo] no note of time, [ = ] But from its loss : to give it, then, a tongue, [m.s.] Is wise | in man. As if an angel | spoke II [p-g.] I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, ^ It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they ? — With the years beyond the fl6od." * These marks indicate [xx] 'very soft,' [^^] 'very low', [= ] 'very slow'; [m. s.] 'median stress '; [p. q.] 'pectoral quality'. See Eey to the Notation nf 'Expressive Tone', on next page. PART I ] READER AND SPEAKER. 69 The first five of the properties of voice which have been enume- rated, are the ground of the following classification and notation. Key to the Notation of ' Expressive Tone.' ^ Force'. [I] 'loud'; [II] 'very loud'; [x] 'soft'; [xx] 'very soft'; [<] 'increase'; [>] 'decrease'. 'Pitch\ [°] ' high '; [°°] ' very high '; [,] ' low '; [<,„] ' very low'. 'Key\ \^'\ ' lively', — (full tone ;) [[?] ' plaintive', — (' semitone'.) ' Time'. [u] 'quick'; [u u] 'very quick'; [ — ] 'slow'; [ = ] 'very slow'. ^Stress'.* [r.s.] 'radical stress'; [7)1. s.] 'median stress'; [v. s.] 'van- ishing stress '; [c. s.] ' compound stress '; [th. s.] ' thorough stress '; [s. s.] ' suppressed stress '; [tr.] ' tremor '; [ef. s.] ' effusive stress '; [expul. s.] ' expulsive stress '; [explo. s.] ' ex- plosive stress'. ' Quality'.^ \h.q.'\ ' harsh quality '; \sm.q.'\ 'smooth quality '; [a. 5'.] 'as- pirated quality '; [pu. t.'\ 'pure tone'; [p. g.] ' pectoral quality '; [.§• (?•] 'guttural quality'; \n. q.'\ ' oral quality'; [pro. g'.] ' oro- tund quality'. Comhinations. [h.g.q.'] ' harsh guttural quality'; [sm.p.q.l ' smooth pec- toral quality', &;c The above Key, thoua-h, at first sight, intricate, will occasion no serious difficulty to students who have read attentively the Sections on 'Stress' and 'Quality.' The notation will be found of great service, not only by suggesting appropriate 'expression', which a young reader might otherwise overlook, but by enabling the pupil to prepare for the exercise of reading or declaiming, by previous study and practice. It is a humiliating fact, that, in many schools, the sublimest and most beautiful strains of poetry, — take, for example, Milton's invo- cation, "Hail holy Light!" — are, from the neglect of 'expressive tone', called out in the same voice with which a clerk repeats the number or the mark on a bale of goods, or read with the ' free and easy ' modulation of a story told by the fireside, — or perhaps, with * See ij IX. 'Stress'. t See ^ I. 'Quality'. 60 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAHT I. the pompous moutliinp of the juvenile hero of a ' spouting club', with the hiiifTiiisliini: tone of a sick person, or with the suppressed, half- whispering utterance of a conscious culprit. The notation of 'expression' has been adopted with a view to the early formation of correct habit. RULES ON EXPRESSIVE TONE. Rule I. The tones of anger, vexation, alarm, fear, and terror, have an utterance 'extremely loud, high, and quick', 'abrupt', and 'explosive', — or, sometimes marked by 'expul- sive' and by 'vanishing' stress, — an 'aspirated', 'harsh', and •guttural ' voice, and are characterized, throughout, by the 'fall- ing inflection'. Example of Anger. Notatioji. " He hath disgraced me, and hindered me o( half [I I] a inillion; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, [° °] scorned iny ?idtion, thivarted my bargains, cooled my [u u] friends, heated mine enemies : and what 's his r^a- \h. g. q.'\ S071 ? I AM A ih\x. — Hath not a Je^v eyes, hath not [earp^cs.] a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, pAssions ? fed with the sajne food, hurt with the See Key same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by to the same means, loarmed and cooled by the same win- Notation, ter and summer as a CuRfsTiAN is ?" Vexation. ' [I I] " Say you so ? sXy you so ? — I say unto you [° °] again, you are a shallotv, cowardly, hi?id, an4 you [u u] LIE. Our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our [explo.s.] frieiids true and constant ; a good plot, good [a. p. friends, nnd full oi expectation: an excellent pZo<, Sf vJ:ry good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue g. q.'\ is this! — An I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fIn. — Oh! I could divide my- self, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of SKIMMED MILK with SO honorable an action !" Alarm. [I |] [° °] [^ "] " Strike on the tinder, h6 ! [expul. s.] Give me a taper ; call up all my people ! [a. & oro. g.] Get more tapers ; [Shouting, Raise all my kindred ! — CaUing.] Call up my BROTHER !— So?ne I ONE way, so7ne another ! Get weapons, h6 ! And raise some special officers of night /" PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 61- Fear. [II] "OA/ sAvE me, Htibert, SAVE me : my eyes are 6uT, [** **] Even with ihe fierce looks of these bloody men ! [u u] Alas ! what need you be so boisterous rough ? [expul. I will not struggle, — I will stand | stone | still. r.s.] For Heaven's sake, Hubert ! let me not be bound! • \a.o.q.'\ Nay, hear me, Hubert I drive these men away, [' Tre- And I will sit as quiet as a lXmb ; mor\ I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, through-^ox LOOK | upon the irons | angerly ; out.] Thrust but these vien away, and I '11 forgive you, Whatever torments you do put me to." Terror. [II ° ° u u] " Awake ! AWAKE !— [expul. Ring the ALARUM bell: MtjRDER! and TREASON! ^m.s. Banquo, and Donalbain ! Malcolm! AWAKE ? pro- Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, longed.] And look on death itself .' — Up ! up ! and see [g.^o.q.]The great doom's image .'— MILCOLM ! BANQUO i [Shout.]As from your graves rise up, and walk like sprights, [Call.] To countenance this horror .'" Rule II. Wonder and asto7iishme7it are expressed by 'loud, high, and slow utterance'; 'vanishing stress'; 'aspirated' and slightly ' guttural ' ' quality '; and prolonged ' downward slide'. — Astonishment exceeds wonder, in the degi-ee of these pro- perties. Example of Wonder. [I] " What is 't .?— a spirit ? [°] Sie .' hoiv it looh about ! Believe me, sir, [ — ] It carries a brave form ! — but 't is a spirit !— [v. s.] I might call him [a. o: q.] A thing divine ; for nothing natural I ever saw so noble .'" Astonishment. [I] ^'■Alonzo. What harmony h this 1 — my good friends , ["] hXrk ! [ — ] Gonzalo. Mdrvellozis sweet music ! [v. s.] Alon. Give us kind keepers, heavens!-- What were [a.p.q.]TJii.sE ? Sebastian. A living drollery ! Now I will believe 6 62 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. That there are unicornis: that, in Arabia, There is one tree, the 'phoenix^ throne; one phctniz At this hour rHgning there. Antonio. I 'II believe both ; And what does the want credit, come to 7W^, And I '11 be sivorn V is tri^e." Note. Amazement, when it does not go to the utmost ex- treme, has a louder, but lower and slower utterance, than 05- tonish7nent : the other properties of voice are of the same description as those expressed in astonishment, but increased in degree. Amazement. [I] " Gon. V the name of something holy, sir, why stand you [*] In this strange stare ? [ ] [o] Al07lZ0. Oh I it is MONSTROUS ! MONSTROUS ! \v. s.] Methought, the billows spoke, and told me of it ; [a. Sf The winds did sing it to me ; and the thunder, p. g.] That deep and dreadful organ-pipe pronounced The name of Prosper; it did lass my trespass!" Rule III. Horror and extreme amazement have a 'softened' ' force', an extremely ' low ' note, and ' slow ' movement, a ' suppressed stress', a deep ' aspirated pectoral quality', and a prevailing ' monotone '. Example of Horror. [x] " Now, o'er the one half Avorld [o o] Nature seems dead ; and wicked dreams abiise [ — ] The curtained sleeper ; witchcraft celebrates [5.5.]Pale Hecate's oflerings ; and withered murder, [a.p. Alarumed hj his sentinel, the wolf, J.] Whose howl 's his watch, thijs with his stealthy pace, With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design Moves like a ghost. — [^ J Thou sQre and firm-set earth ! Hear not my steps which way they walk, for fear The very stones prate of my whereabouts, And take the present horror from the time, Which now suits with it." * The omission of any mark, indicates the moderate or middle 'pitch', •force', or 'rale'. The absence of the notation for 'pitch', in the above case, is equivalent to 'middle pitch'. PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 63 Extreme Amazement. [x] "Oh! answer me: [oo] Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell [ = ] Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, \s. 5.] Have bvirst their cerements ! why the sepulchre, \a. p. qJ\ Wherein we saw thee quietly iniirned, \Tre7n0r.] Hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws, To cast thee up again ! [^o] What may this mean, That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel Revisit'st thiis the glimpses of the moon. Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature, So horribly to shake our disposition, With thoughts beyond the reaches of our s6uls ?" Rule IV. Awe- has usually a 'suppressed' force, a 'very low ' note, and a ' very slow ' movement. Solevinity, rever- ence, and sublimity, have a ' moderate ' force, a ' low ' note, and a ' slow movement '. — All four of these emotions are ut- tered with 'effusive median stress', and deep, but 'pure', 'pec- toral quality'; together with a prevalent ' monotone'. Note. When great force is expressed in the language, the tone becomes ' loud ' in awe. Example of Aive. [ ] "0 Thou unutterable Potentate ! [o o] Through nature's vast extent, sublimely great ! — [=] But here, on these gigantic mountains, here, [ef. Thy greatness, glory, wisdom, strength, and spirit, m.s.] In terrible sublimity appear ! [pu. Thy awe-imp5sing voice is heard, — we hear it ' t. The Almighty's fearful voice : attend ! It breaks p.g.] The silence, and in solemn warning speaks. [o o] Thou breathest ! [| ^ ^ — ] forest oaks of centuries Tiirn their uprooted trunks towards the skies. [00] Thou thixnderest! [IIqo =] adamantine mountains break, Tremble, and totter, and apart are riven ! [00] At God's almighty will, [lo — ]The affrighted world falls headlong from its sphere! [00 =]P]anets, and siins, and systems disappear!" Sole?nnity. [o][ — ] " Father ! thy hand [ef. Hath reared these venerable columns ; Thou m.s.] Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down 64 AMERICAN COMMON SCHOOL [PART 1. [pu. t. Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose p.g.] All these ITiir ranks of trees. They, in thy siin, Buddod, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And ^Uoi towards heaven. The century-living crow, Who«:e birth was in their lops, grew old and died Among tlicir branches, till, at last, they stood, As now lliey stand, massy and tall and dark, [^00 =]Fu shrine for humble worshipper to hold Communion with his Maker !" Reverence. [x o — ] " Oh ! let me often to these solitudes \ef. m. s.] Retire, and in Thy presence reassure [pu.t.p.q.'\ My feeble virtue. Here, its enemies, The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink, • [>] And tremble, and are still. [xx oil, and [expul.r.s.^ CLOUD, and fire ! [pro. 5-.] Glorious — the suout, the sh6ck, the crash of ST^EL, The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire !" 2. Joy. "Thou ChildofJoy! Shout round me : let me hear thy shouts, tkou hap- py Shepherd Boy .'" 3. Ardent Ij)ve a?id Admiration. [I] " Oh ! speak again, bright angel ; for thou art [°] As glorious to this sight, being o'er my head, [\j] As is a winged messenger of heaven \m.s.^ Unto the white upturned wondering eyes [pu.o.q.^ Of viortals, that fall back to gaze on him, M When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air." Rule IX. Excessive grief and sorrow, are expressed by ' loud ' ' high' and ' slow' utterance ; ' tremor', or ' intermittent stress'; and ' pure ' ' quality ', — where not interrupted by sob, or ' aspiration'. The ' falling inflection' prevails throughout the utterance of these emotions. Example. [I] [°] " Capulet. 'Ha ! let me see her : — Out, aids .' she 's cold : [ — ] Her blood is settled ; and her joints are stiff; PART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 67 [a. g.] Life and these lips have long been separated ; [tr.] Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. [sob] Accursed time I tmforUmate old vian !' " [I I] ''Lady Capulet. ' Accursed, unhXppy, WRiTCHED, [°J HATEFUL day ! [ — ] Most MISERABLE hour that e'er time saw, [explo.s-l In lasting- labor of his pilgrimage ! \tr.] But one, poor one, one poor and loving child, [a. g.] But one thing to rejoice and solace in, [sob] And cruel death j hath catched it from my sight ! ' " Rule X. Moderate grief a?id sorroio, pity, and tender love and admiration, are expressed by ' softened force', ' high' notes, and slow ' movement '; by prolonged and swelling ' median stress'; and by ' pure', but ' chromatic', or plaintive utterance. The ' rising inflection', in the form of 'sem- itone', (half tone,) prevails in the expression of these emo- tions. Example of Moderate Grief. [x] " Enamored death, with sweetly pensive gr4ce [°] Was awful beauty to his silent face. [ — ] No more his sad eye looked me into tears ! [m.s.] Closed tvas that eye, beneath his pale, cold broio; [pu. And on his calni lips, which had lost their glow, g.] But which, though pale, seemed half-unclosed to spiak, [\)] Loitered a smile, like moonlight on the snbio." Pity. [x] " Morn came again ; ["] But the young. lamb was dead. [ — ] Yfft the poor mother's fond distress \7n. 5.] Its every art had tried [pu. g.] To shield, with sleepless tenderness, [b] The weak one at her side. Eound it, all night, she gathered warm Her woolly limbs, — her head Close curved across its feeble form ; [>] Day dawned, and it was dead. — [xx ° =] It lay before her stifl^'and cAld, — Yet fondly she essayed To cherish it in love's warm fold ; Then restless trial made, 68 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART I. Moving, with still reverted face, And low, complaining bleat. To entice from their damp resting place Those little stifiening feet." Tender Love and Admiration. [x] '■'Hushed were his Gcrtrude^s lips, but still their bland [°] And beautiful expression ' seemed to melt [ — ] Willi love that could not die ! and still his hand [m.s.] She presses to the heart no vwre tlvdl felt, [pu.q.] [o] Ah ! heart, ichere once each fond affection dwilt, [[7] And features \ yet ] that spoke a soul more fair .'" Rule XI. Impatience, eagerness, and hurry, are denoted by 'loud' 'high', and 'quick movement'; impatience, by ' vanishing ', or final ' stress '; eagerness, by ' expulsive me- dian stress'; hurry, by abrupt ' radical ' or initial ' explosive ' 'stress': all three emotions are sometimes marked by the ' tremor ', and by ' aspirated ', and sometimes, ' anhelose ' or panting utterance, — eagerness occasionally by the ' orotund '. The ' falling inflection ' characterizes the tones of these emo- tions. Example of Impatience. [1] ^^Mortimer. Fie ! cousin Percy, — how you cr6ss my [•] father ! [u] Hotspur. I cannot choose : sometimes he angers me, [explo. With telling me of the moldioarp and the hnt, v.s.'\ Of the dreamer Merlin, and \i\s prophecies ; [a. J.] And of a dragon, and a finless fish, A clip-ioinged griffin, and a moulten rdven, A couching lion, and a ramping cat. And such a deal of skimble skamele STtiFF, As puts me from my faith. I tell you what, — He held me, but last night, at least nine h6urs, In reckoning up the several devils' names That were his lackeys: I cried "■ humph V — and '■willV ' go to V — But marked him not a word. Oh ! he 's as tedious As is a tired horse, a railing loife ; Worse than a smoky house : — I, had rather live With cheese and garlic in a WINDMILL, far, Than feed on cd,tes, and have him talk to me, In any summer-house in Christendom." FART I.] READER AND SPEAKER. 69 Eagerness. [I] '■^Hotspur. Send danger from the east unto the whty [°] So honor cross it from the north to south, [uj And let them grapple : — Oh ! the blood more stirs, \expul. To rouse a lion, than to start a hare. V. s.] By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, [oro.j.jTo pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground. And pluck up drowned honor by the locks : So he that doth redeem her thence, might wear, Without co-rival, all her dignities." H^irry. [I I ° u u] "Sisters ! hence, with spurs of sp^ed ! Each her thundering falchion wield; [explo. r. s.] Each bestride her sable steed : [a. g.] HtiRRY ! HtJRRY to the field !" Rule XII. Melancholy is distinguished by 'soft', or faint and languid utterance, ' very low pitch', and ' very slow movement'; a gentle ' vanishing stress'; ' pure' but ' pectoral' 'quality'; and the 'monotone', or, occasionally, the plaintive ' semitone'. Example. [xx] " To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, [o o] Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, [=] To the last syllable of recorded time ; [v, 5.] And all our yesterdays have lighted fools [pu.t.^ The way to dusty death. — Oixt, oiit, brief chndle ! [pec. q.] Life 's but a walking shadow, — a poor player. That striits and frets his hour upon the stage, [>] And then II is heard no more." Rule XIII. Despair has a 'softened force', a 'very low* note, and a ' very slow movement '; ' vanishing stress '; deep ' pectoral quality '; and a prevalent ' falling inflection ' or an utter ' monotone '. Exainple. [x] " I have lived long enough ; my way of life [o o] Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: [ = ] And that which should accompany old age, \v. s.] As honor, love, obedience, troops of fr'iends, \p.q.\ I must not look to hdre ; but, in their stead. TO AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART 1. Curses, not loud, but d^ep, vwuth-hoTwr, BRkATH, Which the pooi- heart would fain dew^, but dd.re not." Rule XIV. Remorse has a subdued or 'softened' force, very ' low pitch', and ' slow movement'; a strongly marked ' vanishing stress '; a deep ' pectoral ' and ' aspirated' ' qual- ity '; and a prevailing ' falling inflection', with, occasionally, the ' monotone'. Example. [^][oo] " Oh ! my offence \ is rank, — it smells to heaven : [ — ] It liath the primal \ Eldest | ciirse I upon 't, [5. 4" A brother's I murder! — Pray can I not, r.5.] Though inclination be as sharp as will ; \a,pec. Mv stronger guilt II defeats my strong inthit. — J.] Oh ! WRETCHED State ! Oh ! bosom, black as d^ath ! Oh I LIMED soul, that, struggling to be free, Art more engaged /" Note. Self-reproach has a tone similar to the preceding, but less in the extent of each property, except ' force', in which it exceeds remorse, and ' pitch', in which it is higher. Example. [I] " Oh ! what a rogue and peasant sld,ve am *•/.' [ — ] Is it not MONSTROUS that this player here, [v. s.] But in a fiction, a dream of passion, [a. q.] Could force his soul so to his own conceit. That, from her working, all his visage wdnned, Tears in his hjes, distractio?i in 's aspect, A broken voice, and his lohole function suiting With forms to his conceit ? And all for nothing ! For Hecuba ! What 's Hec7iba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should iveep for her. What would he do, Had he the motive and the cue for passion. That ^I have ? He would drown the stAge | with tears, And cleave the general ear with horrid speech ! Make mId the guilty, and appal the free. Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed, The very facilities of eves and ears." Rule XV. Mirth is distinguished by ' loud,' ' high,' and ' quick' utterance ; and an approach to the rapid, repeated * explosions ' of laughter, in a greater or less degree, accord- ing to the nature of the passage which contains the emotion. PART 1.] READER AND SPEAKER. 71 To these properties are added ' aspirated quality', and the ' falling inflection', as a predominating one. [II " v] "A FOOL, A FOOL ! I MET A FOOL i' the fotest, [explo. s.] A MOTLEY FOOL ; — a miserable world; \a. g.] As I do live by food, I met a fool ; [Laughing Who laid him doimi, and basked him in the sun, voice.] And railed on lady Fortune \ in good terms. In GOOD SET TERMS, and yet a motley fool !" EuLE XVI. Gaiety and cheerfulness are marked by ' mode- rate force', 'high pitch', and 'lively movement'; moderate 'radical stress '; and smooth, ' pure quality ' of tone, with va- ried ' inflections'. Example, [°] '■'■Celia. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my c6z, be [u] merry. \r. 5.] Rosalind. Well, I will forget the condition of my [pu.tJ\ estate, to rejoice in ymirs. — From henceforth I will, [j^] coz, and devise sports; let me see; what think you of falling in love ? Celia. I prythee, do, to make spoi-t withal ; but love no man in good earnest. Rosalind. What shall be our sport, then ? Celia. Let us sit and mock the good housewife, Fdr- tune, from her wheel, that her gifts may henceforth be bestowed equally. Rosalind. I would we could do so ; for her benefits are mightily misplaced : and the bountiful \ blind ' woman \ doth most mistake her gifts to wbinen." Rule XVII. Tranquillity, serenity, and repose, are indi- cated by ' moderate force', ' middle pitch', and ' moderate movement '; softened ' median stress '; ' smooth ' and ' pure ' • quality ' of tone ; and moderate inflections. Example. [] [] [1* "How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this b^nk! \m. 5.] Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music \sm. y.] Creep in our ears ! soft stillness, and the night, Become the touches of sweet harmony. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ! There's not the smallest orb which thou beh61d'st, * 'Middle pitch', 'moderate force', and 'moderate movement*. T2 AMKKICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART L But I in his motion | like an iiiigol | sings, Still (luiriiig to the young-eyed cherubim: Such harmony is in immortal s6uls !" The carefvil study and practice of tones cannot be too strongly urged on tlic attention ol "young readers. Reading, devoid of tone, ia cold, monotonous, and mechanical, and false, in point of fact. It de- feats the main end of readinp;, which is to impart thought in its natu- ral union with feeling. Faulty tones not only mar the effect of expression, but offend the ear, by their violation of taste and pro- priety. Reading can j)ossess no interest, speech no eloquence, with- out natural and vivid tones. The forepoing examples should be practised with close attention, and persevering diligence, till every property of voice exemplified in them, is perfectly at command. ^ XL APrKOPRIATE MODULATION. The word 'modulation' is the term applied, in elocution, to those changes of ' force', ' pitch', and ' movement', ' stress', 'quality', and 'inflection', which occur, in continuous and connected reading, in passing from the peculiar tone of one emotion to that of another. ' Modulation', therefore, is no- thing else than giving to each tone, in the reading or speaking of a whole piece, its appropriate character and expression. The first practical exercise which it would be most advantageous to perform, in this department of elocution, is, to turn back to the exercises on ' versatility ' of voice, and repeat them till they can be executed with perfect facility and precision. The next exercise should be a review, without the reading of the inter\'ening rules, of all the examples given under the head of ' tones'. A very extensive and varied practice will thus be secured in ' modulation'. It should be required of the pupil, while performing this exercise, to watch narrowly, and state exactly, every change of tone, in passing from one example to another. The third course of exercise in ' modula- tion', is to select those of the pieces contained in this book, which are marked for that purpose, as the notation will indicate. A fourth course of practice may be taken on pieces marked in pencil, by the pupils themselves, under the supervision of the teacher. This statement wl'l, it is thought, be a sufficient explanation of the reason why no separate exercises are given under the head of modulation, in Part I. of this volume. The closing remarks of Sec- tion X. apply equally to ^ XI. Suggestions to Teachers. The compilers of this volume are well aware, that, in numeroas schools, it is exceedingly difficult to command sufficient time for the PART I.] HEADER AND SPEAKER. 73 thorough and effectual performance of exercises in reading, and still more so, to find time for the systematic study of elocution : they would, however, respectfully suggest, tliat, as the complaint against bad reading is still so loud and general, some eH'orts for the removal of the grounds of this complaint, must be made. If so, these ef- forts, to be successful, must be systematic ; and, if systematic, they cannot be hurried and superficial. Every teacher can best decide. In his own case, how much time he can create for such purposes. But it would, at all events, be practicable to make time by diminishing the quantity of reading usually attempted in a lesson. — A class who have learned in a day, to read one paragraph distinctly and impress- ively, have done more than has heretofore been effected, in successive YEARS of desultory and irregular practice. *^* Teachers and students who wish for a more extensive state- ment of the general principles of elocution, or to devote their atten- tion to the subject of gesture in connexion with declamation, may find it serviceable to peruse the American Elocutionist,* by one of the editors of the present work. * The American Elocutionist ; comprising ' Lessons in Enunciation', 'Exercises in Elocution', and ' Rudiments of Gesture '; with a Selection of new Pieces for practice in Reading and Declamation ; and engraved Illustrations in Attitude and Action. Designed for Colleges, Professional Institutions, Academies, and Common Schools. By William Russell. Bo.«ion : Jenks and Palmer. PART II.— PIECES FOR PRACTICE IN READING AND DECLAMATION. LESSON I. — Paul's defence before festus and agrippa. — ACTS, XXVL CHAPTER. I THINK myself happy, king Agrippa, because I shall answer for myself this day before thee, concerning all the things whereof I am accused by the Jews : especially, as I know thee to be expert in all customs and questions which 5 are among the Jews. Wherefore I beseech thee to hear ■ me patiently. My manner of life from my youth, which was at the first among my own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews ; who knew me from the beginning, (if they would 10 testify,) that after the straitest sect of our religion, I lived a Pharisee. And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the promise made by God to our fathers ; to Avhich promise, our twelve tribes, continually serving God day and night, hope to come : and for this hope's sake, king 15 Agrippa, I am accused by the Jews. Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that God should raise the dead ? I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth : and this I did in Jerusalem. ?0 Many of the saints I shut up in prison, having received authority from the chief priests : and when they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And I often punished them in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme ; and being exceedingly mad against them, 25 I persecuted them even unto strange cities. But as I went to Damascus, with authority and com- mission from the chief priests, at mid-day, O king ! I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the oun, shining round about me, and them who journeyed 30 with me. And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speaking to me and saying, in the Hebrew 76 AMKRICAN COMMON-SCHOOL tongue, Sa\il, Saul, why persecutest thou me ? It is hard for thee to kick against ]).\e pricks.* And I said, who art thou, Lord? And he replied, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest. But rise, and stand upon thy feet: for I have 5 appeared to thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister, and a witness both of these things, which thou hast seen, and of those tilings in which I will appear to thee ; delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, to whom I now send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn 10 them from darkness to light, and from the power of satan to God ; that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance amongst them who are sanctified by faith that is in me. Whereupon, O king Agrippa ! I was not disobedient to 15 the heavenly vision ; but showed first to them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and through all the coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent, and turn to God, and do works meet for repentance. For these causes, the Jews ca\ight me in the temple ; and went about to kill 20 me. Having, however, nbtained help from God, I continue to this day, witnessing both to small and great, saying no other things than those which the prophets and Moses declared should come ; that Christ should suffer ; that he would be the first who should rise from the dead ; and that 25 he would show light to the people, and to the Gentiles. LESSON II. — CULTIVATION OF THE MIND. S. REED. [This piece is intended as an exercise in the application of Ehe- torical Pauses, according to the Rules contained in the Section on Pausing, in Part I., page 25.] It was the design of Providence, that the infant mind | should possess the germ ' of every science. If it were not so, the sciences could hardly be learned. The care of God II provides ' for the flower of the field 1 a place ' wherein it may grow, regale the sense | witn its fra- grance, and delight the soul | with its beauty. Is nis prov- idence ' less active I over those, to whom this flower offers its incense ? — No. The soil ' which produces the vine II in its most healthy luxuriance, is not better adapted * Sharp-pointed instruments. PAKT II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 77 to that end, than the world we inhabit, to draw forth the latent energies of the soul, and fill them ' with life ' and vigor. As well might the eye | see ' without light, or the ear | hear ' without sound, as the human mind | be 5 healthy ' and athletic | without descending into the natu- ral world, and breathing the mountain air. Is there aught in Eloquence | which warms the heart ? She draws her fire ' from natural imagery. Is there aught in Poetry | to enliven the imagination ? There | is the 10 secret ' of all her power. Is there aught in Science | to add strength ' and dignity ' to the human mind ? The nat- ural world II is only the body, of which ' she ] is the soul. In books, science ' is presented to the eye of the pupil, as it were, in a dried ' and preserved ' state. The time may 15 come, when the instructor ' will take him by the hand, and lead him ' by the running streams, and teach him all the principles of Science, as she comes from her Maker ; as he would smell the fragi-ance ' of the rose, without gathering it. 20 This love of nature ; this adaptation of man ' to the place assigned him ' by his heavenly Father; this fulness • I of the mind II as it descends into the works of God, — is something, which has been felt ' by every one, — though to an imperfect degree, — and ' therefore | needs no ex- 25 planation. It is the part of science, that this | be no long- er a blind afiection ; but ' that the mind ' be opened | to a just perception ' of what it is, which it loves. The af- fection, which the lover first feels ' for his future wife, may be attended ' only by a general sense ' of her exter- 30 nal beauty ; but his mind ' gradually opens I to a percep- tion of the peculiar features of the soul, of which ' the external appearance | is only an image. So it is ' with nature. Do we love to gaze on the sun, the moon, the stars, and the planets ? This affection | contains ' in its 35 bosom | the whole science of astronomy, as the seed ' contains the future tree. It is the office of the instructor ' to give it an existence ' and a name, by making known the laws, which govern the motions of the heavenly bodies, the relation of these bodies to each other, and 40 their uses. Have we felt delight ' in beholding the animal creation, — in watching their pastimes ' and their labors ? It is the office of the instructor ' to give birth to this affection, by describing the different classes of animals, with their pe- 7* ^ AM£BICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAXI J. culiar characteristics, which inhabit the earth, the air, and the sea. Have we known the inexpressible pleasure I of beholding the beauties ' of the vegetable world ? This afl'eclion | can only expand ' in the science of botany. 5 Thus it is, that tlie love of nature ' in the mass II may be- come the love of all the sciences, and the mind will grow and bring fortli fruit II from its own inherent power of de- velopment. ULSSON in. PHYSICAL EUIICATION. DR. HUMPHREY. [Marked for Rhetorical Pauses.] That I is ' undoubtedly | the wisest ' and best regimen, which takes the infant ' from the cradle, and conducts him along, through childliood ' and youth, up to high matu- rity, in such a manner ' as to give strength ' to his arm, 5 swiftness ' to his feet, solidity ' and amplitude ' to his muscles, symmetry ' to his frame, and expansion ' to his vital energies. It is obvious, that this branch of educa- tion I comprehends, not only food ' and clothing, but air, exercise, lodging, early rising, and Avhatever else ' is re- 10 quisite to the full development ' of the physical constitu- tion. The diet | must be simple, the apparel | must "Tlot be too warm, nor the bed | too soft. Let parents | beware ' of too much restriction | in the management of their darling boy. Let him, in choosing 15 his play, follow the suggestions of nature. Let them not be discomposed | at the sight of his sand-hills ' in the road, his snow-forts ' in February, and his mud-dams ' in April : nor when they chance to look out ' in the midst of an August shower, and see him wading ' and sailing, and 20 sporting ' along with the water-fowl. If they would make him hardy ' and fearless, they must let him go abroad ' as • often as he pleases, in his early boyhood, and amuse him- self ' by the hour together, in smoothing ' and twirling ' the hoary locks of winter. Instead of keeping him shut 25 up ' all day ' with a stove, and graduating his sleeping- room I by Fahrenheit, they must let him face the keen edge of a north wind, when the mercury ' is below cipher, and, instead of minding a little shivering ' and complain- ing when he returns, cheer up his spirits and send him 30 out again. In this way, they will teach him ' that he was not born to live in the nursery, nor to brood over the fire ; but to range abroad, as free as the snow ' and the air, and to gain warmth ' from exercise. PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 79 I love ' and admire ' the youth, who turns not back ' from the howling wintry blast, nor withers ' under the blaze of summer ; who never magnifies ' mole-hills into mountains '; but whose daring eye, exulting, scales the 5 eagle's airy crag, and who is ready to undertake any thing ' that is prudent and lawful, within the range of possibil- ity. Who would think ' of planting the mountain oak ' in a green-house ? or of rearing the cedar of Lebanon ' in a lady's flower-pot ? Who does not know, that, in or- 10 der to attain their mighty strength ' and majestic forms, they must freely enjoy the rain ' and the sunshine, and must feel the rocking of the tempest ? LESSON IV. SELF-EDUCATION. D. A. WHITE. [Marked for Rhetorical Pauses.] Education is the personal and practical concern of every individual, and at all periods of life. — Those | who have been favored ' with advantages of early instruction, or ' even ' with a course of liberal education, ought to 5 consider it ' rather as a good foundation to build upon, than as a reason ' for relaxing | in their efforts ' to make advances in learning. The design of early education, it should be remembered, is not so much to accumulate in- formation, as to develop, invigorate, and discipline ' the 10 faculties; to form habits of attention, observation, and in- dustry, and ' thus ] to prepare the mind | for more exten- sive acquirements, as well as for a proper discharge ' of the duties of life. Those, who have not the privileges of early instruction, 15 must feel the stronger inducement | to avail themselves ' of all the means ' and opportunities ' in their power, for the cultivation of their minds | and the acquisition of knowledge. It can never be too late II to begin | or to advance | the Avork of improvement. They will find dis- 20 tinguished examples of success | in the noble career of self-education, to animate their exertions. These will teach them, that no condition in life | is so humble, no circumstances | so depressing, no occupation | so labori- ous, as to present insuperable obstacles to success | in the 25 acquisition of knowledge. All such disheartening obsta- cles, combined, may be surmounted, as they have been ' in a thousand instances, by resolute ' and persevering de- termination ' to overcome. 80 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART 11. Some of the most celebrated philosophers of antiquity, rose from the condition of slaves; and many of the most learned | among the moderns, have educated themselves II under circumstances ' scarcely less depressing | than those 5 of servitude. Heyne,* the lirst classical scholar of Ger- many, during tlie last century, and the brightest ornament I of the university of Gdttingen,t raised himself ' from the depths of poverty, by his own persevering, determined spirit of application, rather than by the superior force of 10 his natural genius. Gilford, the elegant translator of Ju- venal, struggled with poverty ' and hardships | in early life, and nobly persevered, till he gained the high rewards of British learning ; and Ferguson, tlie celebrated astron- omer ' and mechanician, was the son of a day-laborer, 15 and. at an early age, was placed at service | with several farmers ' in succession ; yet, without teachers, and almost without means ' of instruction, he attained to high rank | among the philosophers of his age, and, as a lecturer, was listened to | by the most exalted, as well as the humblest | 20 in rank and station. By his clear and simple manner ' of teaching the physical sciences, he rendered the knowledge of them ' more general, than it had ever before been ' in England ; and | through his learned publica- tions I he became ' also ' the instructor of colleges ' and 25 universities. All these extraordinary men II have left memoirs of themselves, detailing the struggles < through which they have passed, which will forever teach persevering resolu- tion, against opposing obstacles, to all ' who have a love 30 of knowledge | or a desire of improvement. What en- couragement ' may they not afford | to those who have no such struggles to encounter, and who can obtain | without difficulty | the means of instructing themselves ! There would seem to be no apology, at tbc present day, in this 35 countrj^ | at least, for extreme ignorance, in any situation ' or condition ' of life. The most valuable knowledge, that which is essential to moral cultivation, is certainly within the reach of all. Innumerable | are the instances of successful self-in- 40 struction, not only among men of bright natural talents, * Pronounced, Hinay. t The 0, in this word, is not sounded as in any English word : it resembles au, in the French word cxur, — the ng sound as in the English word sinscr. PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 81 but among those of apparently moderate powers ; not only against the force of early disadvantages, but against that ' of the most adverse circumstances | of active ' and pub- lic ' employment. The highest honors of learning | have 5 been won II amidst laborious professional duties | and the pressing cares of state. Hardy seamen, too, who have spent their days | in conflict with the storms of the ocean, have found means ' to make themselves distinguished | in science ' and literature, as well as by achievements in 10 their profession. The lives of Columbus, Cook, and Lord CoUingwood II gloriously attest this fact. Our own coun- try I has produced her fall proportion ' of self-taught men, — statesmeja | and civilians, philosophers | and men of science. At their head II stand Washington ] and Frank- 15 lin, neither of whom | enjoyed, in early life, advantages of education, equal ' to those which are afforded ' by some of our free schools | to the humblest of the people. LESSON V. CHARACTER OF TRUE ELOQUENCE. WEBSTER. [This, and the two following pieces, are meant to be studied, and marked in pencil, by pupils, themselves, — under the guidance, at first, of the teacher. The marking to be appUed as an exten- sion of practice on Rhetorical Pauses.] When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions excited, nothing is valuable, in speech, farther than it is connected with high intellectual and moral en- 5 dowments. Clearness, force, and earnestness, are the qualities which produce conviction. True eloquence, in- deed, does not consist in speech. It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be marshalled 10 in every way, — they cannot compass it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the occasion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of declamation, all may aspire after it, — they cannot reach it. It comes, if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the 15 earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with sponta- neous, original, native force. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments, and studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own lives, and the fate of their wives, 20 their children, and their country, hang on the decision of the hour. Then, words have lost their power, rhetoric SB" AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT EU is vain, and all elaborate oratory conlemptible. Even genius itself then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher ([ualities. Then, patriotism is elo- quent : then, self-devotion is eloquent. The clear concep- 5 tion, outrunning the deductions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the dauntless spirit, speaking on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, right onward to his object, — this, this is eloquence : or rather it is something 10 greater and higher than all eloquence, — it is action, noble, sublime, godlike action. LESSON VI. — INDUSTRY INDISPENSABLE TO THE ORATOR. II. WARE, JR. [To be marlced for Rhetorical Pauses, by the reader.] The history of the world is full of testimony to prove how much depends upon industry ; not an eminent orator has lived but is an example of it. Yet, in contradiction to all this, the almost universal feeling appears to be, that 5 industry can efTect nothing, that eminence is the result of accident, and that every one must be content to remain just what he may happen to be. Thus multitudes, who come forward as teachers and guides, suffer themselves to be satisfied with the most indifferent attainments, and amiser- 10 able mediocrity, without so much as inquiring how they may rise higher, much less making any attempt to rise. For any other art they woulci have served an appren- ticeship, and would be ashamed to practise it in public before they had learned it. If any one would sing, he 15 attends a master,' and is drilled in the very elementary principles ; and only after the most laborious process dares to exercise his voice in public. This he does, though he has scarce any thing to learn but the mechani- cal execution of what lies in sensible forms before the 20 eye. But the extempore speaker, who is to invent as well as to utter, to carry on an operation of the mind as well as to produce sound, enters upon the work without prepara- tory discipline, and then wonders that he fails ! If he 25 were learning to play on the flute for public exhibition, what hours and days would he spend in giving facility to his fingers, and attaining the power of the sweetest and most expressive execution ! If he were devoting himself to the organ, what months and years would he labor, that PABT n.] READER AND SPEAKER. 83 he might know its compass, and be master of its keys, and be able to draw out, at will, all its various combina- tions of harmonious sound, and its full richness and deli- cacy of expression ! And yet he will fancy that the 5 grandest, the most various and most expressive of all in- struments, which the infinite Creator has fashioned by the union of an intellectual soul with the powers of speech, may be played upon without study or practice ; he comes to it a mere uninstructed tyro, and thinks to 10 manage all its stops, and command the whole compass of its varied and comprehensive jiower ! He finds himself a bungler in the attempt, is mortified at his failure, and set- tles it in his mind forever, that the attempt is vain. Success in every art, whatever may be the natural tal- 15 ent, is always the reward of industry and pains. But the instances are many, of men of the finest natural ge- nius, whose beginning has promised much, but who have degenerated wretchedly as they advanced, because they trusted to their gifts, and made no efforts to improve. 20 That there have never been other men of equal endow- ments with Demosthenes and Cicero, none would venture to suppose ; but who have so devoted themselves to their art, or become equal in excellence ? If those great men had been content, like others, to continue as they began, 25 and had never made their persevering efforts for unprove- ment, what would their countries have benefited from their genius, or the Avorld have known of their fame ? — They would have been lost in the undistinguished crowd that sunk to oblivion around them. LESSON VII. GENIUS. ORVILLE DEWEY. [To be marked for Ehctorical Pauses, by the reader.] The favorite idea of a genius, among us, is of one who never studies, or who studies nobody can tell when, at midnight, or at odd times and intervals, and now and then strikes oiit, " at a heat," as the phrase is, some wonderful 5 production. This is a character that has figured largely in the history of our literature, in the person of our Field- ings, our Savages, and our Steeles ; " loose fellows about town, or loungers in the country;" who slept in ale- houses, and wrote in bar-rooms ; who took up the pen as 10 a magician's wand, to supply their wants, and, when the pressure of necessity was relieved, resorted again to their 84 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART U. carousals. Your real genius is an idle, irregular, vaga- bond sort of personage ; who muses in the fields, or dreams by the fireside : whose strong impulses, — that is the cant of it, — must needs hurry him into wild irregular- 5 ities, or foolish eccentricity ; who abhors order, and can bear no restraint, and eschews all labor ; such a one as Newton or Milton ! What ! they must have been irregu- lar, else they were no geniuses. "The young man," it is often said, "has genius enough, 10 if he would only study." Now the truth is, as I shall take the liberty to state it, that the genius will study ; it is that in the mind which does study : that is the very nature of it. I care not to say that it will always use books. All study is not reading, any more than all read- 15 ing is study. Attention it is, — though other qualities belong to this transcendant power, — attention it is, that is the very soul of genius ; not the fixed eye, not the poring over a book, but the fixed thought. It is, in fact, an action of the 20 mind, which is steadily concentrated upon one idea or one series of ideas, which collects in. one point the rays of the soul, till they search, penetrate, and fire the whole train of its thoughts. And, while the fire bums within, the outside may be indeed cold, indifTerent, negligent, absent 25 in appearance ; he may be an idler or a wanderer, appar- ently without aim or intent ; but still the fire burns within. And what though " it bursts forth," at length, as has been said, "like volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original,, native force ? " It only shows the intense action of 30 the elements beneath. What though it breaks like light- ning from the cloud ? The electric fire had been collect- ing in the firmament through many a silent, clear, and calm day. What though the might of genius appears in one decisive blow, struck in some moment of high debate, 35 or at the crisis of a nation's peril ? That mighty energy, though it may have heaved in the breast of Demos- thenes, was once a feeble infant thought. A mother's eye watched over its dawning. A father's care guarded its early youth. It soon trod with youthful steps the halls of 40 learning, and found other fathers to wake and to watch for it, even as it finds them here. It went on ; but si- ler^ce was upon its path ; and the deep strugglings of the inward soul silently ministered to it. The elements Around breathed upon it, and " touched it to finer issues." PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 85 The golden ray of heaven fell upon it, and ripened its ex- panding faculties. The slow revolutions of years slowly added to its collected energies and treasures ; till, in its hour of glory, it stood forth imbodied in the form of liv- 5 ing, commanding, irresistible eloquence. The world wonders at the manifestation, and says, " Strange, strange, that it should come thus unsought, un- premeditated, unprepared I " But the truth is, there is no more a miracle in it, than there is in the towering of 10 the preeminent forest-tree, or in the flowing of the mighty and irresistible river, or in the wealth and waving of the boundless harvest. LESSON Vm. ANTIQUITY OF FREEDOM. W. C. BRYANT. [Marked for Rhetorical Pauses, in poetry.] Here ' are old trees, tall oaks | and gnarled pines. That stream ' with gray-green mosses ; here | the ground Was never trenched by spade ; and flowers | spring up ' Unsown, and die ungathercd. It is sweet | 5 To linger here, among the flitting birds. And leaping squirrels, wandering brooks, and winds ' That shake the leaves, and scatter, as they pass, A fragrance ' from the cedars, thickly set ' With pale blue berries. In these peaceful shades, — 10 Peaceful, unpruned, immeasurably old, — My thoughts ' go up the long ' dim ' path of years, Back ''to the earliest days of Liberty. Freedom ! thou art not, as poets ' dream, A fair young girl, with light ' and delicate limbs, 15 And wavy tresses | gushing from the cap ' With which the Roman master ' crowned his slave | When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, Armed to the teeth, art thou ; one mailed hand II Grasps the broad shield, and one j the sword ; thy brow, 20 Glorious in beauty ] though it be, is scarred II With tokens of old wars ; thy massive limbs II Are strong with struggling. Power j at thee has launched His bolts, and ' with his lightnings ' smitten thee ; They could not quench the life thou hast from heaven. 25 Merciless power | has dug thy dungeon deep, And his swart armorers, by a thousand fires, Have forged thy chain ; yet, while he deems thee bound. The links are shivered, and the prison walls | Fall outward ; terribly l^ '^tt :springo£t forth. 8 86 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT lit As springs the flame ' above a burning pile, And shoulest to the nations, who return Thy shoutings, while the pale oppressor | flies. Thy birthright | was not given ' by human hands • 5 Thou wcrt twin-born ' with man. In pleasant fields While yet our race was few, thou sal'st with him, To tend the quiet flock | and watch the stars. And teach the reed to utter simple airs. Thou I by his side, amid the tangled wood, 10 Didst war upon the panther ' and the wolf, His only foes; and thou ' with him ' didst draw The earliest furrows ' on the mountain side. Soft ' with the deluge. Tyranny himself. Thy enemy, although of reverend look, 15 Hoary ' with many years, and far obeyed, Is later born ' tlian thou ; and | as he meets The grave defiance of thine elder eye. The usurper | trembles | in his fastnesses. Oh ! not yet | 20 Mays't thou unbrace thy corslet, nor lay by ' Thy sword ; nor yet, O Freedom ! close thy lids ' In slumber ; for thine enemy | never sleeps, And thou ' must watch ' and combat II till the day Of the new earth ' and heaven. But wouldst thou rest 25 Awhile I from tumult ' and the frauds of men. These old ' and friendly solitudes | invite Thy visit. They, while yet the forest trees | Were young ' upon the un violated earth. And yet the moss-stains ' on the rock | were new, 30 Beheld thy glorious childhood, and rejoiced. LESSON IX. SUNRISE ON THE HILLS. H. W. LONGFELLOW. [To be marked for Rhetorical Pauses.] I Stood upon the hills, where heaven's Avide arch Was glorious with the sun's returning march, And woods were brightened, and soft gales Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales. 5 The clouds were far beneath me : — bathed in light They gathered midway round the wooded height, And in their fading glory shone Like hosts in battle overthrown. As many a pinnacle with shifting glance, 10 Through the gray mist thrust up its .'ih-^ttered lance, PART 11.] READER AND SPEAKER. 8? And rocking on the cliff was left The dark pine, blasted, bare, and cleft. The veil of cloud was lifted, — and below Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow 5 Was darkened by the forest's shade, Or glistened in the white cascade. Where upward, in the mellow blush of day, The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way. I heard the distant waters dash, — 10 I saw the current whirl and flash ; — And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach, * The woods were bending with a silent reach. Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell. The music of the village-bell 15 Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills , And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills, Was ringing to the merry shout That faint and far the glen sent out, — Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke 20 Through thick-leaved branches from the dingle broke. If thou art worn and hard beset With sorrows that thou wouldst forget, — If thou wouldst read a lesson that will keep Thy heart from fainting, and thy soul from sleep, 25 Go to the woods and hills ! — No tear Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. LESSON X. THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. E. COOPER. [This, and the two following pieces, are marked as exercises in application of the rules contained in the Section on Emphasis, Part I., page 28.] The true Christian must show that he is in earnest about religion. In the management of his worldly af- fairs, he must let it clearly be seen, that he is not influ- enced by a worldly mind ; that his heart is not upon 5 earth ; J^at he pursues his worldly calling from a princi- ple ofi-BUTY, not from a sordid love of gain ; and that, in truth, his treasures are in heaven. He must, therefore, not only " provide things honest in the sight of all men ;" not only avoid every thing which is fraudulent and un- 10 just in his dealings with others ; not only openly protest against those i7iiquito2is practices which the custom of trade too frequently countenances and approves ; — but, also, he must "let his moderation be known unto all men." 9B AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. He must not push his gains with seeming eageriiessy even to the utmost lawful extent. He must e.xercise forbear- ance. He must be content with moderate profits. He must sometimes even forego advantages, which, in them- 5 selves, he might innocently take, lest he should seem to give any ground for suspecting that his heart is secretly set upon these things. Thus, also, with respect to worldly pleasures ; he must endeavor to convince men that the pleasures which reli- 10 GiON furnishes, are far greater than those which the world can yield. While, therefore, he conscientiously keeps from joining in those trifling, and, too often, profatie amusements, in which ungodly men profess to seek their happiness, he must yet labor to show, that, in keeping 15 from those things, he is, in respect to real happiness, no loser, but even a gainer by religion. He must avoid every thing which may look like moroseness and gloom. He must cultivate a cheerfulness of spirit. He must en- deavor to show,.in his whole deportment, the contentment 20 and tranqnillity which naturally flow from heavenly af- fections, from a mind at peace with God, and from a hope full of IMMORTALITY. The spirit which Christianity enjoins and produces, is so widely difierent from the spirit of the world, and so im- 25 mensely superior to it, that, as it cannot fail of being no- ticed, so it cannot fail of being admired, even by those who are strangers to its poicer. Do you ask in what par- ticulars this spirit shows itself ? I answer, in the exercise of humility, of 7?ieek?iess, of gentleness ; in a patient bear- 30 ing of injuries; in a readiness io forgive offences; in a uniform etideavor to overcome evil with good ; in self-de- nial and disinterestedness ; in universal kindness and cour- tesy ; in slowness to xorath ; in an unwillingness to hear or to speak evil of others : iii a forwardness to defend, to 35 advise, and to assist them ;'in loving our enemies; in bless- ing them that curse us ; in doing good to them that hate us. These are genuine fruits of true Christianity. The Christian must " let his light shine before men," by discharging in a faithful, a diligent, and a consistent 40 manner, the personal and particular duties of his station. As a member of society, he must be distinguished by a blameless and an inoffensive conduct ; by a simplicity and an ingeiniousness of character, free from every degree of guile ; by uprightness d^nd^ fidelity in all h^s engagements. PAKT 11.] READER AND SPEAKER. 89 As a neighbor, he must be Jdnd,friendhj, and accommo' dating. His discourse must be mild and ijistructive. He must labor to prevent quarrels, to reconcile those who dif- fer, to comfort the afflicted. In short, he must be " ready 5 for etjer?/ g-oo^^ ivork ;" and all his dealings with others must show the heavenly principle, which dwells and works in his heart. LESSON XI. — POPULAR GOVERNMENT. DR. SHARP. [JMarked for Emphasis.] The real glory and prosperity of a nation does not con- sist in the hereditary rank or tilled privileges of a very small class in the community ; ia the great wealth of the _/ezw, and the great poverty of the many ; in the sple7idid 5 palaces of nobles, and the ivr etched huts of a numerous and halffamished peasantry. No ! such a state of things may give pleasure to proud, ambitious, and selfish minds, but there is nothing here on which the eye of a patriot can rest with unmingled satisfaction. In his deliberate judg- 10 ment, "111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay ; Princes and lords may fourish or may fade ; A BREATH can 7iinke them, as a breath has made : 15 But a BOLD PEASANTRY, their country^s pride, When once destroyed, can never be supplied." It is an intellige?tt, virtuoiis, free, and exteiisive popula- tion, able, by their talents and industry, to obtain a corri' petent s7ipport, which constitutes the strength and pros- 20 perity of a nation. It is not the least advantage of a popular government, that it brings into operation a greater amount of talent than any other. It is acknowledged by every one, that the occurrence of great events awakens the dormant ener- 25 gies of the h^iman mind, and calls forth the most splendid and poiverful abilities. It was the momentoiis question, whether your country should be free and i7idepende?it, and the declaration that it was so, which gave to you ora- tors, statesmen, and generals, whose names all future ages 30 will delight to honor. The characters of men are generally moulded by the circumstances in which they are placed. They seldom put forth their strength, without some powerfully exciting motives. 13ut ivhat mot/rr.s r?tu tliey Imve to (jualify them- 90 AMERICAN COMMON-SCIIOOI, [PART K. selves for stations, from which they are forever excluded on account of plkbeian kxthaction? How can they be expected to prepare themselves for the service of their coujitry, when they know that their services would be re- 6 JECTED, because, unfortunately, they dissent from ths established religion, and have honesty to avow it ! But in a country like oui.-s, where the most obscure in dividuals in society may, by their talents, virtties, anf; public services, rise to tlie most ho7iorable distinctions, and 10 attain to tlie highest offices which the people can give, the most effectual inducements are ])resenled. It is indeed true, that only nfew who run in tlie rare for political honor, can obtain the prize. lint, altliough many come short, yet the exertions and the progress which they make, are 15 not lost cither on themselves or society. The suitableness of their talents and characters for some other important station, may have been perceived ; at least the cultivation of their minds, and the effort to acquire an honorable repu- tation, may render them active and useful members of the 20 community. These are some of the benefits peculiar to a POPULAR government; benefits which loe have long en- joyed. LESSON XII. REVERENCK FOR LAW. J. IIOPKINSON. From a Eidogium on Hon. Bushrod Washington. — Trial of Gen- eral Bright, for ohstrucling tlie execution of a process of the Supreme Qnirt of the United States. [The type indicates, as before, the degree of Emphasii.l Mark the conduct of Pennsylvania, at this unprecedent- ed, trying crisis. Can she recede from her absolute asser- tion of right ? Can she take back her unqualified me- naces of resistance, and proinises of protection to her 5 citizens? — A judge, in himself a iveak and helpless indi- vidual, supported by no power but the law, pronounces a sentence of, criminal condemnation upon the assembled REPRESENTATIVES of the people, — upon their supreme ex- ecutive authorttv ; upon THEMSELVES; and orders 10 the minister of their will, surrounded by a military force under his coinmand, to a COMMON GAOL. — And this is submitted to with a reverential awe ; not a murmur from the prisoner ; not a movement by the people, to rescue him from a punishment inflicted upon him for obeying 15 their mandates, for sustaining their authority, and defend- PART n.] READER AND SPEAKER. 91 ing their interests. — And why ? — Because the law had spoken, — it was the judgment of the LAW. The people were xcise and virtuorcs ; they loved their country above all things ; and to Iter they luillingly sur- 5 rendered their strength, their passio7is, their pride, and their interest. A jury of Pennsylvariia, instructed and convinced that the supremacy of the law had been violat- ed, gave up the offenders, — their fellow-citizens, respected, and WORTHY of respect, — to its penalties. — What a judge ! 10 — how FEARLESS in his DUTY ! — What a people ! how MAGNANIMOUS in their s2ihmissio7i ! How ivorthy of each other ! No proud and passionate assertion of sovereignty ; no violent menaces of insulted power ; no rebellious defiance of the federal authority ; no inflavimatory combinations to 15 resist it ; and to shatter, in their viadness, the beautiful fabric of our Union. In short, no nullification, — a neio and portentous word, — ^but a calm and noble submission to the concentrated power of ALL the States, in a government made and adopted 20 by all ; which all are bound, by their solemn and pledged faith, by their hopes of peace, safety, and happiness, to MAINTAIN and OBEY. It is only by such efforts of patriotism that this great and growing Republic can be preserved. If, whenever the 25 pride of a state is offended, or her selfishness rebuked, she may assume an attitude of defiance, may pour her rash and angry menaces on her confederated sisters, may claim a sovereignty altogether independent of them, and ac- knowledge herself to be bound to the Union hy no ties but 30 such as she may dissolve at pleasure ; we do indeed hold our political existence by a most precarious tenure ; and ^ ihe future destinies of our country are as dark and uncer- tain, as the past have been happy and glorious. Happy is THAT country, and only that, where the laws 35 are not only just and equal, but supreme and irresistible ; — where selfish interests and disorderly passions are curbed by an arm to which they must submit. — We look back with horror and affright to the dark and troubled ages, when a cruel and gloomy superstition tyrannized over the 40 people o^ Europe ; dreaded alike by kings a.nd people; by governments and individuals ; before which the law had NO FORCE ; JUSTICE NO RESPECT; and mercy no influence. The sublime precepts of morality, the kind and endearing charities ; the true and rational reverence for a bountiful 09 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. Creator, which are the elements and the life of our reli- gion, were trartled upon in the reckless career of ambi- tion, PRIDE, and the lust of tower. Nor was it much better wlieti the arm of the warrior, and the sharpness of 5 his sioord, determined every question of right ; and held the weak in bondage to the strong ; and the revengeful feuds of the great, involved, in 07ie common ruin, them- selves and their humblest vassals. — These disastrous days are gone, 'never to return. There is no power but the 10 LAW, which is the power of ALL ; and those who admin- ister it are the masters and the ministers of ALL. LESSON XIII. birthplace OF LIBERTY. PROF. STUART. [This, and the two following pieces, are intended to be marked by the reader, as an exercise in applying the rules of Emphasis.'] The members of the legislature "^ now before me, are convened on holy ground. Here is the sacred place where liberty, in its best form, first struggled into being. This is the very spot where the pulsation of the heart of 5 true freedom began to beat. I, who was born and nur- tured in another state, may venture to say this without the appearance of self-gratulation. The remembrance of early days rushes upon my mind, and rekindles the en- thusiasm with which I then read the story of your efforts 10 and sufferings on this ground, in behalf of your country's freedom, while I bedewed with tears the pages Avhich re- corded them. Increasing ycfirs have not diminished that feeling ; and it has been greatly augmented by a personal knowledge of this place and people. It is now my most 15 fervent supplication to God, that here, where freedom be- gan, her reign may continue down to the end of time. Here may the flame of Christian liberty, which has been kindled, burn brighter and brighter, until states and em- pires shall be no more ! 20 But if, in the inscrutable purposes of Heaven, and in judgment to our race, the cause of Freedom must again sink ; if she is to be wounded in every part, and the cur- rent of her blood to be drained from every vein and artery of the body, — may the seat of life here still remain in 25 action ! But if even the very heart too must be drained of its last drop, and life cease to beat, then let the funeral obsequies of human happiness be kept in solemn sadness; * Of Massachusetts. PART II.J RKADER AND SPEAKER. ifH let the heavens be hung with black, and the earth clothed with habiliments of mourning, in token of grief, that the liberty of man is no more. LESSON XIV. CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. Smyth. [To be marked for Emphasis, ^y the reader.] To the historian, few characters appear so little to have shared the common frailties and imperfections of human natur^, as that of Wasliington. There are but few par- ticulars that can be mentioned even to his disadvantage. 5 Instances may be found where, perhaps, it may be thought 'that he was decisive to a degree ihat partook of severity and harshness, or even more ; but how innumerable were the decisions which he had to make! — how difficult and how important, through the eventful series of twenty years 10 of command in the cabinet or the field ! Let it be considered what it is to have the management of a revolution, and afterwards the maintenance of order. Where is the man who, in the history of our race, has ever succeeded in attempting successively the one and the ]5 other? — not on a small scale, a petty state in Italy, or among a horde of barbarians ; but in an enlightened age, when it is not easy for one man to rise superior to an- other, and in the eyes of mankind, — " A kingdom for a stage, 20 And monarchs to behold the swelling scene." The plaudits of his coimtry were continually sounding in his ears ; and neither the judgment nor the virtues of the man were ever disturbed. Armies were led to the field with all the enterprise of a hero, and then dismissed 25 with all the equanimity of a philosopher. " Power was ac- cepted, was exercised, was resigned, precisely at the mo ment and in the way that duty and patriotism directed. Whatever was the difficulty, the trial, the temptation, or the danger, there stood the sridier and the citizen, eter- 30 nally the same, without fear and without reproach, and there was the man who was not only at all times virtuous, but at all times wise. The merit of Washington by no means ceases with his campaigns ; it becomes, after the peace of 1783, even more 35 striking than before ; for the same man who, for the sake of liberty, was ardent enough to resist the power of Great Britain, and hazard every thing on this side the grave, at a later period had to bo temperate enough to resist the M AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAHT M. same spirit of liberty, when it was mistaking its proper objects, and transgressinpf its appointed limits. The American revolution was to approach him, and he was to kindle in the general flame: the French revolution 5 was to reach him, and to consume but too many of his countrymen ; and his " oxvn ethereal mould, incapable of stain, was to purge olf the baser fire victorious." But all this was done : he might have been pardoned, though he had failed amid the enthusiasm of those around him, and 10 when liberty was the delusion ; but the foundations of the moral world were shaken, and not the understanding of Washington. As a ruler of mankind, he may be proposed as a model. Deeply impressed with the original rights of human na- 15 ture, he never forgot that the end, and meaning, and aim, of all just government, was the happiness of the people ; and he never exercised authority till he had first taken care to put himself clearly in the right. His candor, his patience, his love of justice, were unexampled ; and this, 20 though naturally he was not patient, — much otherwise, — highly irritable. He therefore deliberated well, and placed his subject in every point of view, before he decided ; and his under- standing being correct, he was thus rendered, by the 25 nature of his faculties, his strength of mhid, and his prin- ciples, the man, of all others, to whom the interests of his . fellow-creatures might, with most confidence, be intrusted; — that is, he was the first of the rulers of mankind. LESSON XV. IMPRESSIONS FROM HISTORY. G. C. VERPLANCK. From a Discourse before the New York Historical Society. [To be marked for Emphasis, by the reader.] The study of the history of most other nations, fills the mind with sentiments not unlike those which the Ameri- can traveller feels, on entering the venerable and lofty ca- thedral of some proud old city of Europe. Its solemn 5 grandeur, its vastness, its obscurity, strike awe to his heart. From the richly painted windows, filled with sacred emblems, and strange, antique forms, a dim reli- gious light falls around. A thousand recollections of ro- mance and poetry, and legendary story, come thronging in 10 upon him. He is surrounded by the tombs of the mighty dead, rich with the labors of ancient art, and emblazoned with the pomp of heraldry. PART II.] READKR AND Si'EAKER. 95 What names does he read upon them ? Those of princes and nobles who are now remembered only for their vices ; and of sovereigns, at whose death no tears were shed, and whose memories lived not an hour in the 5 affections of their people. There, too, he sees other names, long familiar to him for their guilty or ambiguous' fame. There rest, the blood-stained soldier of fortune, — the orator, who was ever the ready apologist of tyranny, — great scholars, who were the pensioned flatterers of 10 power, and poets, who profaned the high gift of genius, to pamper the vices of a corrupted court. Our own history, on the contrary, like that poetical temple of fame, reared by the imagination of Chaucer, and decorated by the taste of Pope, is almost exclusively 15 dedicated to the memory of the truly great. Or rather, like the Pantheon of Rome, it stands in calm and severe beauty, amid the ruins of ancient magnificence, and the " toys of modern state." Within, no idle ornament en- cumbers its bold simplicity. The pure light of heaven 20 enters from above, and sheds an equal and serene radiance around. As the eye wanders about its extent, it beholds the unadorned monuments of brave and good men, who have greatly bled or toiled for their country, or it rests on votive tablets, inscribed with the names of the best bene- 25 factors of mankind. " Patriots are here, in Freedom's battles slam, Priests, whose long lives were closed -without a stain, Bards worthy Him who breathed the poet's mind, Founders of arts that dignify mankind, 30 And lovers of our race, whose labors gave Their names a memory that defies the grave." Doubtless, this is a subject upon which we may be just- ly proud. But there is another consideration, which, if it did not naturally arise of itself, would be pressed upon us 35 by the taunts of European criticism. What, it is asked, has this nation done to repay the world for the benefits we have received from others ? Is it nothing for the universal good of mankind to have carried into successful operation a system of self-govem- 40 ment, uniting personal liberty, freedom of opinion, and equality of rights, with national power and dignity ; such as had before existed only in the Utopian dreams of phil- osophers ? Is it nothing, in moral science, to have antici- pated in sober reality, numerous plans of reform in civil 96' AMEKICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. and criminal jurisprudence, wliicli are, but now, received as plausible lliL-orii's by the politicians and economists of Europe? Is it notliini; to have been able to call forth, on every emergency, either in war or peace, a body of talents 5 always equal to the dilliculty ? Is it nothing to have, in less than half a century, exceedingly improved the sci- ences of political economy, of law, and of medicine, with all their auxiliary branches ; to have enriched human knowledge by the accumulation of a great mass of useful 10 facts and observations, and to have augmented the power and the comforts of civilized man, by miracles of mechan- ical invention ? Is it nothing to have given the world ex- amples of disinterested patriotism, of political wisdom, of public virtue ; of learning, eloquence, and valor, never 15 exerted save for some praiseworthy end ? It is sufficient to have briefly suggested these considerations : every mind would anticipate me in filling up the details. No, — Land of Liberty ! thy children have no cause to blush for thee. What! though the arts have reared few 20 monuments among us, and scarce a trace of the Muse's footstep is found in the paths of our forests, or along the banks of our rivers; yet our soil has been consecrated by the blood of heroes, and by great and holy deeds of peace. Its wide extent has become one vast temple, and hallowed 25 asylum, sanctified by the prayers and blessings of the per- secuted of every sect, and the wretched of all nations. Land of Refuge, — Land of Benedictions ! Those pray- ers still arise, and they still are heard : " May peace be within thy walls, and plenteousness within thy palaces!" 30 " May there be no decay, no leading into captivity, and no complaining in thy streets !" " May truth flourish out of the earth, and righteousness look down from heaven !" LESSON XVI. THE GENIUS OF DEATH. Croly. [Jlarked for Emphasis, as applied to Poetry.] What is Death ? 'T is to be free ! No more to love, or hope, or fear — To join the great equality : All alike are humble there ! The mighty grave Wraps lord and slave ; Nor pride nor poverty dares come Within that refuge-house, the tomb ! PABT U.] RKADEK AND SPEAKER. 97 Spirit with the drooping wing, And the ever-iveeping eye, Thou of ALL earth's kings art KING ! Empires at thy footstool lie ! 5 Beneath thee strewed Their muhitude Sink, like loaves upon the shore : Storms shall never rouse them more ! What 's the grandeur of the earth 10 To the grandeur round thy throne ! Riches, glory, beaxity, birth, To thy kingdom all have gone. Before thee stand The vjondrous hand ; 15 Bards, heroes, sages, side by side, Who darkened nations when they died ! Earth has hosts ; but thou canst show Many a MILLION for her one ; Through thy gates the mortal flow 20 Has for countless years roU'd on : Back from the tomb No step has come ; There fix^d, till the last thtjndee's sound ShaU bid thy prisoners be unbound ! lesson XVII. THE DEEP. J. G. C. BRAINARD. [To be marked for Emphasis, by the reader.] There 's beauty in the deep : — The wave is bluer than the sky ; And though the light shine bright on high, More softly do the sea-gems glow, 6 That sparkle in the depths below ; The rainbow's tints are only made When on the waters they are laid ; And sun and moon most sweetly shine Upon the ocean's level brine. — 10 There 's beauty in the deep. There 's music in the deep : It is not in the surf's rough roar. Nor in the whispering, shelly shore, — They are but earthly 5»ound«<, that tell 9 98 AMKRICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAKT 11. How little of the sea-nymph's shell, That sends its loud, clear note abroad, Or winds its softness through the flood, Echoes through groves with coral gay, 5 And dies, on spongy banks away ! — There 's music in the deep. There 's quiet in the deep : Above, let tides and tempests rave. And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave; 10 Above, let care and fear contend. With sin and sorrow to the end : Here, far beneath the tainted foam. That frets above our peaceful home, We dream in joj', and wake in love, 15 Nor know the rage that yells above. — There 's quiet in the deep. LESSON XVIII. POPE AND DRYDEN. JohlSOn. [This piece is marked in application of the rules of Inflection, stated in Part I., § vni., page 30.] Pope professed to have learned his poetry from Dr^den, whom, whenever an opportunity was presented, he praised through his whole life with unvaried liberality; and, per- haps, his character may receive some illustration, if he be 5 compared with his master. Integrity of understanding, and nicety of discernment, were not allotted in a less proportion to Dryden than to Pope. The rectitude of Dryden's mind was sufficiently shown by the dismission of his poetical prejudices, and 10 the rejection of unnatural thoughts and rugged numbers. But Dryden never desired to apply all the judgment that he had. He wrote, and professed to write, merely for the people ; and when he pleased others, he contented him- self. He spent no time in struggles to rouse latent 15 powers ; he never attempted to make that better which was already good, nor often to mend what he must have known to be faulty. He wrote, as he tells us, with very little consideration : when occasion or necessity called upon him, he poured out what the present moment hap- 20 pened to supplj^, and, when once it had passed the press, ejected it from his mind ; for, when he had no pecuniary interest he had no further solicitude. PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER, 99 Pope was not content to satisfy ; he desired to excel, and therefore always eiuleavored to do his best ; he did not court the candor, but dared tl;c judgment of his reader, and, expecting no indulgence from others, he showed none 5 to himself. He examined lines and words with minute and punctilious observation, and retouched every part with indefatigable diligence, till he had left nothing to be for- given. For this reason he kept his pieces very long in his 10 hands, while he considered and reconsidered them. The only poems which can be supposed to have been written with such regard to the times as might hasten their publi- cation, were the two satires of Thirty-eight : of which Dodsley told me, that they were brought to him by the 15 author, that they might be fairly copied. " Every line," said he, " was then written twice over ; I gave him a clean transcript, which he sent some time afterwards to me for the press, with every line written twice over a second time." 20 His declaration, that his care for his works ceased at the^ publication, was not strictly true. His parental at- teniron never abandoned them ; what he found amiss in the first edition, he silently corrected in those that fol- lowed. He appears to have revised the Iliad., and freed 25 it from some of its imperfections ; and the Essay on Criti- cism received many improvements, after its first appear- ance. It will seldom be found that he altered without adding clearness, elegance, or vigor. Pope had perhaps the judgment of Dryden ; but Dryden certainly wanted 30 the, diligence of Pope. In acquired knowledge, the superiority must be allowed to Dryden, whose education was more scholastic, and who, before he became an author, had been allowed more time for study, with better means of information. His 35 mind has a larger range, and he collects his images and illustrations from a more extensive circumference of sci- ence. Dryden knew more of man in his general nature, and Pope in his local manners. The notions of Dryden were formed by comprehensive speculation, and those of 40 Pope by minute attention. There is more dignity in the knowledge of Dryden, and more certainty in that of Pope. P6etry was not the sole praise of either : for both ex- 100 AIVIBRICAN COIVUVIO^I-SCHOOL [PART II. celled likewise in prdse : but Pope did not borrow his prose from his predecessor. The style of Dryden is ca- pricious and viiried ; that of Pope is cautious and uni- form. Dryden obeys the motions of his own mind; Pope 5 constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid ; Pope is al- ways smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant vegetation : Pope's is a 10 velvet lawn, shaven by the sitlie and levelled by the roller. Of genius, that power which constitutes a poet; that quality without which judgment is cold, and knowledge is inert; that energy which collects, combines, afnplifies, and animates ; the superiority must, with some hesitation, be 15 allowed to Dryden. It is not to be inferred, that of this poetical vigor Pope h-M only a little, because Dryden had more ; for every other writer since Milton, must give place to Pope ; and even of Drj'den it must be said that if he has brighter paragraphs, he has not better poems. 20 Dryden's performances were always hasty, either excited by some external occasion, or extorted by domestic neces- sity ; he composed without consideration, and published without correction. What his mind could supply at call, or gather in one excursion, was all that he sought, and all 25 that he gave. The dilatory caution of Pope enabled him to condense his sentiments, to multiply his images, and to accumulate all that study might produce, or chance might supply. If the flights of Dryden, therefore, are higher, Pope continues longer on the wing. If of Dryden's fire 30 the blaze is brighter, of Pope's the heat is more regular and constant. Drj'den often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls below it. Dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and Pope with perpetual delight. LESSON XIX. — THE PURITANS. — Macavlay. [Marked for Inflections.'] The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a peculiar character from the daily contemplation of supe- rior beings and eternal interests. Not content with ac- knowledging, in general terms, an overruling Providence, 5 they habitually ascribed every event to the will of the Great Being, for whose p6wer nothing was too vast, for PART II.] KEADER AND SPEAKER. 101 whose inspection nothing was too minute. To know Him, to serve Him, to enjoy Him, was with them the great end of existence. They rejected with contempt the ceremo- nious homage which other sects substituted for the pure 5 worship of the souL Instead of catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through an obscviring veil, they aspired to gaze fiill on the intolerable brightness, and to commune with Him face to face. Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial distinctions. The difference be- 10 tvveen the greatest and meanest of mankind, seemed to vanish, when compared with the boundless interval which separated the whole race from Him on whom their own eyes were constantly fixed. They recognized no title to superiority but His favor ; and confident of that favor, 15 they despised all the accomplishments and all the digni- ties of the world. If they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. If their names were not found in the registers of heralds, they felt assured that they were 20 recorded in the Book of Life. If their steps were not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, legions of ministering angels had charge over them. Their palaces were houses not made with hands : their diadems, crowns of glory which should never fade away ! 25 On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, they looked down with contempt: for they esteemed themselves rich in a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more sublime language, nobles by the right of an earlier creation, and priests by the imposition of a migh- 30 tier hand. The very meanest of them was a being to whose fate a mysterious and terrible importance belonged, - -on whose slightest action the spirits of light and dark- ness looked Avith anxious Interest, who had been destined, before heaven and earth were created, to enjoy a felicity 35 which should continue Avlicn lieaven and earth should have passed away. Events which short-sighted politicians ascribed to earth- ly causes, had been ordained on his account. For his sake empires had risen, and fltSurislied, and decayed. For 40 his sake the Almighty had proclaimed his will by the pen of the evangelist, and the harp of ihc prophet. He had been rescued by no common deliverer from the grasp of n6 common f6e. He had been ransomed by the sweat of 9* 103 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT II. 116 vnilgar ligony, by the blood of 116 earthly sacrifice. It was for hiin that the sun had been darkened,* that the rocks had been rent, that the dead had arisen, that all na- ture had shuddered at the sufferings of her expiring 5 G6d ! Thus the Puritan was made up of tw6 different men, the one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion ; the other proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He pros- trated himself in the diist before his Maker : but he set >0 his foot on the neck of the king. In his dev6tional re- tirement, he prayed with convulsions, and groans, and tears. He was half maddened by glorious or terrible il- lusions. He heard the Ij^res of angels, or the tempting whispers of fiends. He caught a gleam of the beatific 15 vision, or woke screaming from dreams of everlasting fire. Like Vune, he thought liimself intrusted with the sceptre of the millennial year. Like Fleetwood, he cried in the bitterness of his soul that God had hid his face from him. But when he took his seat in the council, or girt on his 20 sword for war, these tempestuous workings of the soul had left no perceptible trace behind them. People who saw nothing of the godly but their uncouth visages, and heard nothing from them but their groans and their hymns, might laugh at them. But those had little reason , 25 to laugh who encountered them in the hall of debate, or in the f.eld of battle. The Puritans brought to civil and military affairs a coolness of judgment, and an immulability of purpose, which some writers have thought inconsistent with their 30 religious zeal, but which were in fact the necessary effects of it. The intensity of their feelings on one subject, made them tranquil on every other. One overpowering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and hatred, ambition and fear. Death had lost it:^ terrors, and pleasure its 35 charms. They had their smiles and their tears, their raptures and their sorrows, but n6t for the things of this world. Enthusiasm had made them stoics, had cleared their minds from every vulgar passion and prejudice, and raised them ab6ve the influence of danger and of cor- 40 ruption. * When an emphatic series causes, thus, a succession of falling inflections, the second one in each clause, falls lower than the first. PART II.] HEADER AND SPEAKEH. 103 LESSON XX. POETRY. CHANNING. [Blarked for Inflections. 1 We believe that poetry, far from injuring society, is one of the great instruments of its refinement and exaltation. It lifts the mind above ordinary life, gives it a respite from depressing cares, and awakens the consciousness of 5 its affinity with what is pure and noble. In its legitimate and highest efforts, it has the same tendency and aim with Christianity ; that is, to spiritualize our nature. True, poetry has been made the instrument of vice, the pajid.er of bad passions ; but when genius thus stoops, it dims its 10 fires, and part^ with much of its power ; and even when Poetry is enslaved to licentiousness and misanthropy, she cannot wholly forget her true vocation. Strains of pure feeling, touches of tenderness, images of innocent happi- ness, sympathies with what is good in our nature, bursts 15 of scorn or indignation at the hoUowness of the world, passages true to our moral nature, often escape in an im- moral w6rk, and show us how hard it is for a gifted spirit to divorce itself wholly from what is good. Poetry has a natural alliance with our best affections. 20 It delights in the beauty and sublimity of outward nature and of the soul. It indeed portrays with terrible energy the excesses of the passions, but they are passions which show a mighty nature, which are full of power, which command awe, and excite a deep though shuddering s^m- 25 pathy. Its great tendency and purpose, is, to carry the mind beyond and above the beaten, diisty, weary walks of ordinary life ; to lift it into a purer element, and to breathe into it more profoimd and generous em6tion. It reveals to us the loveliness of nature, brings back the 30 freshness of youthful feeling, revives the relish of sim- ple pleasures, keeps unquenched the enthusiasm which warmed the spring-time of our being, refines youthful love, strengthens our interest in human nature, by vivid delineations of its tenderest and loftiest feelings, spreads 35 our sympathies over all classes of society, knits us by new ties with universal being, and, through the bright- ness of its pr6phctic visions, helps fa'ith to lay hold on the future life. We are aware that it is objected to poetry, that it gives 40 wrong views, and excites false expectations of life, peoples the mind with shadows and illusions, and builds up ima- 104 AMERICAN COMMON-SCnOOL [PART 11 giniition on the ruins of wisdom. That there is a wisdom, against which poetry wars, — tiic wisdom of the senses, which makes physical comfort and gratification the su- preme gt>od, and weaUh the chief interest of life, — we do 5 not deny : nor do we deem it the least service which poetry renders to mankind, that it redeems them from the thraldom of tliis earthhorn prudence. But, passing over this topic, we would observe, that the complaint against poetry as abounding in illusion and dc- 10 ception is, in the main, groundless. In many poems there is more of truth, tiian in many histories and philo- sophic theories. The fictions of genius are often the ve- hicles of the sublimest verities, and its flashes often open new regions of thought," and throw new light on the 15 mysteries of our being. In poetry the letter is falsehood, but the spirit is often profoundcst wisdom. And if truth thus dwells in the boldest fictions of the poet, much more may it be expected in his delineations of life ; for the present life, which is the first stage of the immortal mind, 20 abounds in the materials of p6etry, and it is the highest office of the bard to detect this divine element, among the grosser pleasures and labors of our earthly being. The present life is not wholly prosaic, precise, tame,* and finite. To the gifted eye it abounds in the poetic. 25 The affections which spread beyond ourselves, and stretch far into futurity ; the workings of mighty passions, which seem to arm the soul with an almost superhuman energy ; the innocent and irrepressible joy of infancy; the bloom, and buoj'ancy, and dazzling hopes of youth; the throb- 30 bings of the heart when it first wakes to love, and dreams of a happiness too vast for earth ; woman, with her beau- ty, and grace, and gentleness, and fulness of feeling, and depth of affection, and hf^r blushes of pvirity, and the tones and looks which only a mother's heart can inspire ; 35 — -these are all poetical. It is not true that the poet paints a life which does not exist. He only extracts and concentrates, as it w^ere, life's ethereal essence, arrests and condenses its volatile fra- grance, brings together its scattered beauties, and pro- 40 16ngs its more refined but evanescent joys ; and in this he does well ; for it is good to feel that life is not wholly * A negative sentence, ending with a rising inflection, has the falling slide on its penultimate word or clause. PART 11.] READER AND SPEAKER. 105 usurped by cares for subsistence and physical Ratifica- tions, but admits, in measures which may be indefinitely enlarged, sentiments and delights worthy of a higher being. LESSON XXI. CAUSES OF WAR. H. BINNEY. [To be marked for Inflections, by the reader.] What are sufficient causes of war let no man say, let no legislator say, until the question of war is directly and inevitably before him. Jurists may be permitted with comparative safety, to pile tome upon tome of intermina- 5 ble disquisition upon the motives, reasons, and causes of just and unjust war. Metaphysicians may be suffered with impunity to spin the thread of their speculations un- til it is attenuated to a cobweb ; but for a body created for the government of a great nation, and for the adjustment 10 and protection of its infinitely diversified interests, it is worse than folly to speculate upon the causes of war, un- til the great question shall be presented for immediate action, — until they shall hold the united question of cause, motive, and present expediency, in the very palm of their 15 hands. War is a tremendous evil. Come when it will, unless it shall come in the necessary defence of our na- tional security, or of that honor under whose protection national security reposes, it will come too soon, — too soon for our national prosperity, — too soon for our individual 20 happiness, — too soon for the frugal, industrious, and vir- tuous habits of our citizens, — too soon, perhaps, for our most precious institutions. The man who, for any cause, save the sacred cause of public security, which makes all wars defensive, — the man Avho, for any cause but this, 25 shall promote or compel this final and terrible resort, assumes a responsibility second to none, nay, transcen- dantly deeper and higher than any, which man can as- sume before his fellow-men, or in the presence of God, his Creator. LESSON XXII. — FOUNDATION OF NATIONAL CHARACTER. E. EVERETT. [To be marlced for Inflections, by the reader.] Menial energy has been equally diffused by sterner levellers than ever marched in the van of a revolution, — the nature of man and the providence of God. Native lOG AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. character, strength, and quickness of mind, are not of the miniher of distinctions and aoroniplishmcnts, tliat human inslilulions can monopolize witliiti n city's walls. In quid times, tiiey remain and perish in the obscurity, to which a 5 false organization of society consigns them. In danger- ous, convulsed, and trying limes, they spring up in the fields, in the village hamlets, and on the mountain tops, and teach the surprised favorites of human law, that bright eyes, skilful hands, quick perceptions, firm purpose, 10 and brave hearts, are not the exclusive appanage of courts. ^" Our popular institutions are favorable to intellectual improvement, because their foundation is in dear nature. They do not consign the greater part of the social frame 15 to torpidity and mortification. They send out a vital nerve to every member of the community, by which its talent and power, great or small, are brought into living conjunction and strong sympathy with the kindred intel- lect of the nation ; and every impression on every part 20 vibrates, with electric rapidity, through the whole. They encourage nature to perfect her work ; they make educa- tion, the soul's nutriment, cheap ; they bring up remote and shrinking talent into the cheerful field of competition : in a thousand ways, they provide an audience for lips, 25 which nature has touched with persuasion ; they put a lyre into the hands of genius ; they bestow on all who deserve it, or seek it, the only patronage worth having, the only patronage that ever struck out a spark of " celes- tial fire," — the patronage of fair opportunity. 30 This is a day of improved education ; new systems of teaching are devised ; modes of instruction, choice of studies, adaptation of text-books, the whole machinery of means, have been brought, in our day, under severe rg- vision. But were I to attempt to point out the most efR- 35 cacious and comprehensive improvement in education, the engine, by which the greatest portion of mind could be brought and kept ;inder cultivation, the discipline which would reach farthest, sink deepest, and cause the word of instruction not to spread over the surface, like an artificial 40 hue, carefully laid on, but to penetrate to the heart and soul of its objects, — it would be popular institutions. Give the people an object in promoting education, and the best methods will infallibly be suggested by that instinct- ive ingenuity of our nature, which provides means for PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 107 great and precious ends. Give the people an object in promoting education, and the worn hand of labor will be opened to the last farthing, that its children may enjoy means denied to itself. LESSON XXIII. SUCCESS OF THE GOSPEL. WAYLAND. [To be marked for Inflections, by the reader.] The assumption that the cause of Christianity is de- clining, is utterly gratuitous. We think it not difficult to prove that the distinctive principles we so much venerate, never swayed so powerful an influence over the destinies 5 of the human race, as at this very moment. Point us to those nations of the earth, to which moral and intellectual cultivation, inexhaustible resources, progress in arts, and sagacity in council, have assigned the highest rank in po- litical importance ; and you point us to nations, whose re ■ 10 ligious opinions are most closely allied to those we cherish. Besides, when was there a period, since the days of the Apostles, in which so many converts have been made to these principles, as have been made, both from Christian and pagan nations, within the last five and 15 twenty years ? Never did the people of the saints of the Most High, look so much like going forth in serious ear- nest, to take possession of the kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, as at this very day. 20 But suppose the cause did seem declining, Ave should see no reason to relax our exertions, for Jesus Christ has said. Preach the gospel to every creature ; and appear- ances, whether prosperous or adverse, alter not the ob- ligation to obey a positive command of Almighty God. 25 Again, suppose all that is affirmed were true. If it must be, let it be. Let the dark cloud of infidelity overspfead Europe, cross the ocean, and cover our beloved land, — let nation after nation swerve from the faith, — let iniquity abound, and the love of many wax cold, even until there 30^s on the face of this earth, but one pure church of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, — all we ask is, that we may be members of that one church. God grant that we may throw ourselves into tliis ' Thermopylae of the moral universe.' 35 But even then, we should have no fear that the church of God would be exterminated. "We would call to re- 108 AMBRICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART U. mcmbrance the years of tlic right hand of the Most High. We woiild recollect there was once a time, when the whole church of Christ, not only could be, but actually was, gatliorod with one accord in one place. It was then 5 that that place was shaken, as with a rushing mighty wind, and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost. That same day, three thousand were added to the Lord. Soon we hear, they have filled Jerusalem with their doc- trine. — The church has commenced her march : — Samaria 10 has, with one accord, believed the gospel; Antioch has become obedient to the faith ; the name of Christ has been proclaimed throughout Asia Minor ; the temples of the gods, as though smitten by an invisible hand, are desert- ed ; the citizens of Ephesus cry out in despair. Great is 15 Diana of the Ephesians ; licentious Corinth is purified by the preaching of Christ crucified. Persecution puts forth her arm to arrest the spreading superstition ; but the pro- gress of the faith cannot be stayed. The church of God advances unhurt amidst racks and dungeons, persecutions 20 and death ; she has entered Italy, and appears before the wall of the Eternal City; idolatry falls prostrate at her approach ; her ensign floats in triumph over the capitol ; she has placed upon her brow the diadem of the Caesars. LESSON XXIV. POWER OF THE SOUL. R. H. DANA, SEN. [Marked for the application of Inflections.] Life in itself, it life to all things gives : For whatsoe'er it looks on, that thing lives, — Becomes an acting being, ill or good; And, grateful to its giver, tenders food 5 For the Soul's health, or, suffering change unblest, Pours poison down to rankle in the breast: As is the man, e'en so it bears its part, And answers, thought to thought, and heart to hfty Y^s, man reduplicates himself. You see, 10 In yonder lake; reflected rock and tree. Each leaf at rest, or quivering in the 4ir, Now rests, now stirs, as if a breeze were there Sweeping the crystal depths. Hov/ perfect 4' And see those slender top-boughs rise and fi' 15 The double strips of silvery sand unite Ab6ve, below, each grain distinct and brigh f-RT 11.] READER A.ND SPEAKER. 109 —Thou bird, that seek'st thy food upon that b6ugh, Peck not alone ; that bird below, as thou, Is busy after food, and happy, ibo ; — They 're gone ! Both, pleased, away together fl^w. 5 And see we thus sent up, ruck, sand, and wAod, Life, j6y, and motion from the sleepy flood ? The world, O man, is like that flood to thee : Turn where thou wilt, thyself in all things see Reflected back. As drives the blinding sand lO Round Egypt's piles, where'er thou tak'st thy stand, If that thy heart be barren, there will sweep The drifting waste, like waves along the deep. Fill up the vale, and choke the laughing streams That ran by grass and brake, with dancing beams, 15 Sear the fresh woods, and from thy heavy eye Veil the wide-shifting glories of the sky. And Ane, still, sightless level make the earth. Like thy dull, lonely, joyless Soul, — a dearth. The rill is tuneless to his ear who feels 20 No harmony within ; the south wind steals As silent as unseen, amongst the leaves. Who has no inward beauty, none perceives. Though all around is beautiful. Nay, more, — In nature's calmest hour he hears the roar 25 Of winds and flinging waves, — puts out the light, When high and angry passions meet in flight ; And, his own spirit into tumult hurled. He makes a tiirmoil of a quiet world : The fiends of his own bosom, people air 30 With kindred fiends, that hunt him to despair. Hates he his fellow-men ? Why, then, he deems 'T is hate for hate : — as he, so each one seems. Soul ! fearful is thy power, which thus transforms All things into its likeness : heaves in storms 35 The strong, proud s6a, or lays it down to r^st. Like the hushed infant on its mother's breast, — Which gives each outward circumstance its h6e. And shapes all others' acts and thoughts an^w. That so, they j6y, or love, or hate impart, 40 As j6y, love, hate, holds rule within the hdart. 10 110 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART U. LESSON XXV. HYMN OF NATUUE. — W. B. 0. PEABODY. [To be marked for InJlcclioHs.] God of the earth's extended plains ! The dark green fields contented lie : The mountains riso like holy towers, Where man might commune with the sky: 5 The tall clitr challenges tlie storm That lowers upon tlie vale below, Where shaded i'ountains send tlieir streams, With joyous music in their flow. God of the dark and heavy deep ! 10 The waves lie sleeping on the sands, Till the fierce trumpet of the storm Hath summon'd up their thundering bands : Then the white sails are dash'd like foam, Or hurry, trembling, o'er the seas, 15 Till, calm'd by Thee, the sinking gale Serenely breathes. Depart in peace. God of the forest's solemn shade ! The grandeur of the lonely tree, That wrestles singly with the gale, 20 Lifts up admiring eyes to Thee ; But more majestic far they stand, When, side by side, their ranks they form, To wave on high their plumes of green, And fight their battles with the storm. 25 God of the light and viewless air ! Wliere sunmier breezes sweetly flow, Or, gathering in their airy might, The fierce and wintry tempests blow : All, — from the evening's plaintive sigh, 30 That hardly lifts the drooping flower, To the wild whirlwind's midnight cry, — Breathe forth the language of Thy power. God of the fair and open sky ! How gloriously above us springs 35 The tented dome, of heavenly blue. Suspended on the rainbow's rings ! Each brilliant stat that sparkles through, Each gilded cloud that wanders free In evening's purple radiance, gives 40 The beauty of its praise to Thee. PABT II.] HEADER AND SPEAKER. Ill God of the rolling orbs above ! Thy name is written clearly bright, In the warm day's unvarying blaze, Or evening's golden shower of light. 5 For every fire that fronts the sun, And every spark that walks alone, . Around the utmost verge of heaven. Were kindled at thy burning throne. God of the world ! the hour must come, 10 And Nature's self to dust return ; Her crumbling altars must decay ; Her incense fires shall cease to burn ; But still her grand and lovely scenes Have made man's warmest praises flow ; 15 For hearts grow holier as they trace The beauty of the world below. LESSON XXVI. UNIVERSAL DECAY. — GREENWOOD. [Marked for Rhetorical Pauses, Emphasis, aad IriflectioTis.*] We receive such repeated injimadions of decay II in the world through which we are passing ; — decline \ and change \ and loss., follow ' decline \ and change \ and loss II in such rapid succession, that we can almost catch the 5 sound of universal zvasting, and hear the work of desola- tion ' going on busihj ' around us. '■'■ ^\\e mou7itain \ fall- ing II cometh to nought, and the rock \ is removed out of his place. The luaters \ wear the stones, the things which grow out of the dust of the earth II are washed atvdy, and 10 the hope of ma?i \ is destroyed.'''' Conscious ' of our own instability, we look about ' for something to rest on ; but we look ' in vain. The heavens ' and the earth | had a beginning, and they will have an hid. The face of the world I is changing, daily and hourly. All ' animated 5 things II grow old and die. The rocks | crumble, the trees I fhll, the leaves j fade, and the grass \ withers. The clouds 1 are flying, and the waters | are flowing away from us. The firmest ivorks of wdw, too, are gradiially giving 20 wdy, the ivy \ clings to the mouldering tower, the brier \ * The learner having been conducted through the application of the rules for Pauses, Emphasis, and Inflections, separately, will now be prepared to study and apply ilieni in conjunction. ) 12 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART U. liangs out from the shattered windoio, ami the loall-Jiower I springs from the diajo'mted stones. The fuvJidcrs \ of these perishable works II have shared the same fate \ long ago. If we look back to the days of our ancestors, to the 5 mhi I as well as the dwellings \ of former times, they be- come immediately associated iu our imaginations, and only make the feeling of instability stronger and deeper than before. In the spacious domes, which once held our fa- thers, the serpent \ hisses, and the wild bird \ screams. 10 The halls, which once were crowded ' with all that taste I and science | and /a/vo?- | could ^roc?i?"e, — \v\i\c\\ resounded with viclody, and were lighted up with beauty, are buried ' by their oicn riiins, viocked \ by their oion desolation. The voice of merriment, and of loailing, the steps of the 15 biisy ' and iheidle II have ceased in the deserted courts, and the weeds \ choke the entra?ices, and the long grass II ivaves upon the hearth-stone. The toorks of art, the forming hand, the tombs, the very di/^es they contained, are aZZ gbyie. 20 While we thus walk ' among the ruins of the pdst, a sad feeling of insecurity \ comes over us ; and that feel- ing ' is by no means diminished llwhen we arrive at Aorae. If we turn to our friends, we can hardly sp^ak to them II before they bid us farewell. We see them for a few mo- 25 merits ' and in a few moments 7?wre, their co«?z^e?Z(27ices ' are changed, and they are sent away. It matters not ' how near ' and dear ' they are. The ties which bind us together II are never too close ' to be parted, or too strong ' to be bro- ken. Tears \ were never known to move the king of 30 terrors; neither is it enough ' that we are compelled to surrender one, or two, or many of those we love ; for though the price is so great, we buy no favor with it, and our hold ' on those who remain ] is as slight as ever. The shadows II all ' elude our grcisp, and follow one an- 35 other ' down the valley. We gain no confidence, then, no feeling of security, by turning to our contemporaries and kindred. We know ' that the forms, which are breathing arbund us, are as shortlived ' and fleeting ' as those were, which have been dust \ for centuries. The sensation of 40 vhnity, uncertainty, and ruin, is equally strong, whether we muse on what has long been prostrate, or gaze on what is falling now, or will fall ' so soon. If every thing | which comes under our notice II has PART n.] READER AND SPEAKER. 113 endured for so short a time, and ' in so short a time | will be no more, we cannot say | that we receive the least as- surance II by thinking on ourselves. When a few more friends | have left, aferv more hopes | deceived, and o. few 5 more changes ( vwched us, " we shall be brought to the grave, and shall remain in the tbvib : the clods of the valley | shall be sifeet unto us, and every man ' shall fol- low us, as there are innumerable ' before us." All power ' will have forsaken tlie strongest, and the loftiest ' will 10 be laid Ibiu, and every eye ' will be closed, and every voice ' hushed, and every heart ' will have ceased its beating. And when we have gone ' ourselves, even our memories ' will not stay behind us long. A few of the near and dear II will bear our likeness ' in their bosoms, till they ' too ' have ar- 15 rived ' at the end of their journey, and entered the dark dwelling of unconsciousness. In the thoughts of others II we shall live ' only till the last sound of the bell, which informs them of our departure, has ceased to vibrate in their ears. A stone, perhaps, may tell some wanderer 20 where we lie, whhi we came here, and when we went away ; but ' even that | will soon refuse to bear us rec- ord: '■'■ time'' s effacing fingers'''' \ will be busy on its sur- face, and I at length ' will wear it smooth ; and then | the stone itself | will sink, or criimble, and the wanderer of 25 another age | will pass, without a single cAll ' upon his sympathy, over our unheeded graves. LESSON XXVII. ETERNITY OF GOD. GREENWOOD. [Marked for Rhetorical Pavses, Emphasis, and Inflections. '\ There is one Being II to whom we can look | with a perfect conviction ' of finding that security, which ' no- thing about us ' can give, and which nothing about us ' can take awaij. To this Being | we can lift up our s6uls, 5 and on Him ' we may rest them, exclaiming | in the lan- guage ' of the monarch of Israel, " Before the moun- tains I were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the earth ' and the ivorld, even from everldsting to everlast- ing II Thou art God." " 0[ old 11 hast Thou laid the foun- 10 dations of the earth, and the heavens | are the work ' of Thy hands. Thhj \ shall perish, ]mi Thou | shalt ew(Z«re; yea, all of them | shall 7oax old ' like a garment, as a vesture ' shalt Thou change them, and they shall be 10* 114 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT H. changed; but Thou \ art the siimc, and Thy years | shall have 710 hid.''* Here | then | is a support, which will niver fML; here ' is a foundation | which can never be moved — the ever- 5 lasting Creator ' of cojintless worlds, " the high ' and lofty One | that inkabitetk eternity." What a sUBLfME CONCEPTION ! He inhabits eternity, occupies this i?icon- ceicable duration, i-ervades | and fills | throughout II this ' BOUNDLESS DWELLING. Aj^cs on ages II before even 10 the dust of which we are formed II was created, he had existed \ in infinite viajesty, and ages on ages \ will roll atvay II after we have all returned to the dust | whence we were taken, and ' still | he will exist II in infinite ma- jesty, living ' in the eternity of his own nature, reigning 15 ' in the plenitude of his oivn omnipotence, for ever send- ing forth the loord, which forms, supports, and governs ' all things, commanding new-created light II to shine on new-created worlds, and raising up new-created genera- tions 1 to inhabit them. 20 The contemplation ' of this glorious attribute of God, is fitted to excite ' in our minds ' the most animating \ and consoliiig ' reflection^. Standing, as we are, amid the ruins of time, and the wrecks of mortality, where every thing about us | is created ' and dependent, proceed- 25 ing from nothing, and hastening to destruction, we rejoice ' that something is presented to our view | which has stood from everlasting, and will remain for ^ver. When we have looked on the pleasures of life, and they have vanished away ; when we have looked on the works of 30 nature, and perceived that they were changing ; on the momiments of art, ?M^ seen that they would not stdnd ; on our friends, and they have fled ' while we were gaz- ing ; on ourselves, and felt that ice were as fleeting as they ; when we have looked on every object ' to which 35 we could turn our anxious eyes, and they have all told us that they could give us no hope, nor support, because they were so feeble themselves ; we can look to the throne of GOD : change ' and decay | have never reached thXt ; the revolution of ages II has never moved it ; the waves of 40 an eternity | have been rushing past it, but it has re- * When the falling: inflection recurs, in succession, as above, it falls lower at each repetition. PABT 11.] READER AND SPEAKER. 115 mained unshaken; the waves of another eternity | are rushing toward it, but it is fixed, and can never be dis- turbed. lesson XXVIII. — TWO centuries from the landing of THE pilgrims. CRAFTS. [Marked for Rhetorical Pauses, Emphasis, and Inflections. "l If, on this day, after the lapse of tivo centuries, one of the fathers of New England, released ' from the sleep of death, could reappear ' on earth, lohat would be his emo- tions ' oi joy I and wonder I In lieu of a icilderness, here 5 and there interspersed ' with solitary cabins, where life \ was scarcely worth the danger of preserving it, he would behold joyful harvests, a population ' crowded even to sa- tiety, 1 villages, towns, cities, states, sivarining with indus- trious inhabitants, hills \ graced ' with temples of devo- id tion, and valleys \ vocal ' with the early lessons of virtue. Casting his eye on the ocean, which he passed in fear and trembling, he would see it covered with enterprising fleets II returning with the zohale \ as their captive, and the wealth of the Indies \ for their cargo. He would behold 15 the little colony ' which he planted, grown into gigantic stature, and forming an honorable part ' of a glorious confederacy, the pride ' of the earth, and the favorite ' of heaven. He would witness, with exultation, the general preva- 20 lence | of correct principles of government ' and virtuous habits of action. How gladly would he gaze upon the long stream of light and renown | from Harvard's classic fount, and the kindred springs ' of Yale, of Providence, of Dartmouth, and of Brimswick. Would you fill his 25 bosom with honest pride, tell him of Franklin, who made thunder \ siveet music, and the lightiiing \ innocent fire- works, — of Adams, the venerable sage [ reserved by heaven, himself \ a blessing, to witness its blessing on our nation, — of Ames, whose tongue became, and has become | an 30 angeVs, — of Perry, "Blest by his God i with one illustrious ddy, A BLAZE of Gi.oRY, ere he passed away." And tell him. Pilgrim of Plymouth, these II are thy de- scendants. Show him the stately striictures, the splendid 35 benevolence, the masculine intellect, and the siocet hospital- ity I of the metropolis of Neio England. Show him that 116 AMKBICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. imy7i6rtal vhssel,* whose name \ is synonymous with tri- umph., and each of her 7«d,s^v | a sceptre. S/ioio him the glorious fruits ' of his humble Enterprise, and ask liim if this, ALL this, be not an atonement ' for his sufferings, a 5 recompense ' for his toils, a blessing ' on his efforts, and a heart-expanding trIumph j for the pilgrim adventurer. And if A^ I be proud ' of his 6ffspring, loell may M^y 1 Z God beside ! 5 Being above all beings ! Mighty One ! Whom none can co!njiJi:£jiend, and none explore ; Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone : Embracing all, — supporting, — ruling o'er, — : Being whom we call God, — and know no more ! 10 In its suBTime research, philosophy May measure out the ocean-deep, — may count The sands or the sun's rays ; — but, God ! for Thee There is no weight uo-r measure : — none can mount Up to Thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark, 15 Though kindled by Thy light, in vain would try To trace Thy counsels, infinite and dark ; And thought is lost ere thought can soar so high, Even like past moments in eternity. 144 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART U. Thou from primeval nothingness didst call First chaos, then existence : — Lord ! on Thee Eternity Iiad its foundation ; — all Sprung forth from Tliee : — of light, joy, harmony, 5 Sole origin : — all life, all beauty Thine. Thy word created all, and doth create ; Thy splendor fills all space with rays divine. Thou art, and wcrt, and shalt be ! Glorious ! Great! Light-giving, life-sustaining Potentate ! 10 Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround, Upheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath ! Thou the beginning with tiie end hast bound, And beautifully mingled life and death! As sparks mount upwards from the fiery blaze, 15 So suns are born, so worlds sprung forth from Thee * And as the spangles in the sunny rays Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry Of heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise. A million torches lighted by Thy hand, 20 Wander, unwearied, through the blue abyss : They own Thy power, accomplish Thy command. All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss. What shall we call them ? Piles of crystal light, — A glorious company of golden streams, — 25 Lamps of celestial ether burning bright, — Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams ? But Thou to theS)" art as the noon to night. Yes ! as a drop of water in the sea, All this magnificence in Thee is lost; — 30 What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee ? And what am / then ? Heaven's unnumbered host, Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed In all the glory of sublimest thought, Is but an atom in the balance, weighed 35 Against Thy greatness, is a cipher brought Against infinity ! Oh ! what am I then ? Nought ! Nought ! yet the effluence of Thy light divine. Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too; Yes ! in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine, 40 As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew. PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 145 Nought ! yet I live, and on hope's pinions fly Eager towards Thy presence ; for in Thee I live, and breathe, and dwell ; aspiring high, Even to the throne of Thy divinity. 5 I am, O God ! and surely Thou must be ! Thou art ! directing, guiding all. Thou art ! Direct my understanding, then, to Thee ; Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart: Though but an atom 'midst immensity, 10 Still I am something, fashioned by Thy hand ! I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth, On the last verge of mortal being stand. Close to the realms where angels have their birth, Just on the boundaries of the spirit-land ! 15 The chain of being is complete in me : In me is matter's last gradation lost ; And the next step is spirit, — Deity ! I can command the lightning, and am dust! A monarch, and a slave ; a worm, a god ! 20 Whence came I here? and how so marvellously Constructed and conceived ? Unknown ! — This clod Lives surely through some higher energy; For from itself alone it could not be ! Creator, yes ! Thy wisdom and Thy word 25 Created me ! Thou source of life and good ! Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord ! Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plenitude Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring Over the abyss of death, and bade it wear 30 The garments of eternal day, and wing Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere. Even to its source, — to Thee, — its Author there. Oh ! thoughts ineffable ! Oh ! visions blest ! Though worthless our conceptions all of Thee, 35 Yet shall Thy shadowed image fill our breast, And waft its homage to Thy Deity. God ! thus alone my lonely thoughts can soar ; Thus seek Thy presence, Being wise and good ! 'Midst Thy vast works admire, obey, adore ; 40 And when the tongue is eloquent no more, The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude. 13 146 AJlERICAxN CO.MMON-SCIIOOL [PART II. LESSON XLVIII. NIAGARA. MUS. SIGOURNEY. [The following piece is designed for practice in the 'slow' utter- ance which characterizes the tunes of sublimit;/ and awe. The ' rate ' of voice is not altogether so slow as in the preceding lesson ; yet it retains much of that cfl'ect whicli cannot be given without slowness of movement and full pauses. The note, in the style of this lesson, continues Ivw, although 7wt so remarkably deep as in the preceding. The principal object of practice, in this instance, is to secure that degree of * slowness ' which marks the tones of wonder and aston ishment.] [~o] Flow on forever, in thy glorious robe Of terror and of beauty ! Yea, flow on Unfathoined and resistless ! God hath set His rainbow on thy forehead : and the cloud 5 Mantled around thy feet. And he doth give Thy voice of thunder, power to speak of Him Eternally, — bidding the lip of man Keep silence, and upon thy rocky altar pour Incense of awe-struck praise. 10 Ah ! who can dare To lift the insect-trump of earthly hope, Or love, or sorrow, 'mid the peal sublime Of thy tremendous hymn ? Even Ocean shrinks Back from thy brotherhood ; and all his waves 15 Retire abashed. For he doth sometimes seem To sleep like a spent laborer, and recall His wearied billows from their vexing play, And lull them to a cradle calm ; but thou With everlasting, undecaying tide, 20 Dost rest not, night or day. The morning stars, When first they sang o'er yotmg creation's birth, Heard thy deep anthem ; and those wrecking fires, That wait the archangel's signal to dissolve This solid earth, shall find Jehovah's name 25 Graven, as with a thousand diamond spears. On thine unending volume. Every leaf, That lifts itself within thy wide domain. Doth gather greenness from thy living spray, 30 Yet tremble at the baptism. Lo ! — yon birds Do boldly venture near, and bathe their wing Amid thy mist and foam. 'T is meet for them, To touch thy garment's hem, and lightly stir The snowy leaflets of thy vapor wreath, 35 For they may sport unharmed amid the cloud, PART n.] READER AND SPEAKER. 147 Or listen at the echoing gate of heaven, Without reproof. But as for us, it seems Scarce lawful, with our broken tones, to speak Familiarly of thee. Methinks to tjjit 5 Thy glorious features with our pencil's point, Or woo thee to the tahlet of a song, Were profanation. Thou dost make the soul A wondering witness of thy majesty ; 10 But as it presses with delirious joy To pierce thy vestibule, dost chain its step. And tame its rapture with the humbling view Of its own nothingness ; bidding it stand In the dread presence of the Invisible, 15 As if to answer to its God through thee. LESSON XLIX. — THE UNITED STATES. BANCROFT. [The extract which follows, exemplifies the deliberate, or 'mode- rately slow ' utterance, which belongs to the style of serious reading or speaking, with reference to the purposes of public or general communication. Such passages exemplify, also, the 'moderate' force, and the 'middle' pitch. To avoid hurry, on the one hand, and draivling, on the other, is the object in view, in the practice of such exercises. A grave and dignified style forbids any approach to haste ; but it does not imply a lagging slowness.] [ ] The United States of America constitute an essential portion of the great political system, embracing all the civilized nations of the earth. At a period when the force of moral opinion is rapidly increasing, they have the prece- 5 dence, in the practice and the defence of the equal rights of man. The sovereignty of the people, is here a conceded axiom ; and the laws, established upon that basis, are cherished .with faithful patriotism. While the nations of Europe 10 aspire after change, our constitution engages the fond admiration of the people, by whom it has been established. Prosperity follows the execution of even justice ; invention is quickened by the freedom of competition ; and labor rewarded with sure and unexampled returns. 15 Domestic peace is maintained without the aid of a mili- tary establishment ; public sentiment permits the existence of but few standing troops, and those only along the sea- board and on the frontiers. A gallant navy protects our commerce, which spreads its banners on every sea, and 148 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART 11. extends its enterprise to every clime. Our diplomatic rela- tions coiniect us, on terms of e([uality and honest friend- ship, with the cliief powers of the world; while we avoid entangling participation in their intrigues, their passions, 5 and their wars. Our national resources arc developed by an earnest cul- ture of the arts of peace. Every man may enjoy the fruits of his industry; every mind is free to publish its convic- tions. Our government, by its organization, is necessarily 10 identified with the interests of the people, and relies exclu- sively on their attachment, for its durability and support. Even the enemies of the state, if there be any among us, have liberty to express their opinions undisturbed ; and are safely tolerated, where reason is left free to combat their 15 errors. Nor is the constitution a dead letter, unalterably fixed ; it has the capacity for improvement ; adopting whatever changes time and the public will may require, and safe from decay, so long as that will retains its energy. New states are forming in the wilderness ; canals, inter- 20 secting our plains and crossing our highlands, open numer- ous channels to internal commerce ; manufactures prosper along our water-courses ; the use of steam on our rivers and rail-roads, annihilates distance by the acceleration of speed. Our w^ealth and population, already giving us a 25 place in the first rank of nations, are so rapidly cumula- tive, that the former is increased fourfold ; and the latter is doubled, in every period of twenty-two or twenty-three years. There is no national debt ; the community is opu- lent ; the government economical ; and the public treasury 30 full. Religion, neither persecuted nor paid by the state, is sustained by the regard for public morals, and the con- victions of an enlightened faith. Intelligence is diffused with unparalleled universality ; a free press teems with the choicest productions of all na- 35 tions and ages. There are more daily journals in the United States, than in the world beside. A public docu- ment of general interest is, within a month, reproduced in at least a million of copies, and is brought within the reach of every freeman in the country. 40 An immense concourse of emigrants, of the most various lineage, is perpetually crowding to our shores; and the principles of liberty, uniting all interests by the operation of equal laws, blend the discordant elements into harmoni- ous union. Other governments are convulsed by the PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 149 innovations and reforms of neighboring states ; our consti- tution, fixed in the affections of the people, from whose choice it has sprung, neutralizes the influence of foreign principles, and fearlessly opens an asylum to the virtuous, 5 the unfortunate, and the oppressed of every nation. ) LESSON L. WOTJTER VAN TWILLER. WASHINGTON IRVING. [The following specimen of descriptive humor, requires the ' lively movement ', in its rate of utterance. The voice is, in this instance, accelerated ieyond the rate of serious communication, in any form ; although it does not possess the rapidity which belongs to the excited style of lyric or dramatic poetry, in the most vivid style of humor- ous expression. This lesson combines, also, an exemplification of ' moderate ' force, and ' middle ' pitch. The object in view in the practice of such exercises as this, is to gain animation and briskness, in utterance. A laggmg or drawling tone is utterly incompatible with humorous delineation. Mere rapidity, however, will not suc- ceed in imparting liveliness to style : the utterance must be slam enough to be distinct and spirited.] [u] The renowned Wouter, (or Walter,) Van Twiller, [^j was descended from a long line of Dutch burgo- masters, who had successively dozed away their lives, and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in Rotter- 5 dam ; and who had comported themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety, that they were never either heard or talked of, — which, next to being universally applauded, should be the object of ambition of all ages, magistrates, and rulers. ' lO His surname, Twiller, is said to be a corruption of the original Twijfier^ which, in English, means Doubter ; a name admirably descriptive of his deliberative habits. For, though he was a man shut up wthin himself, like an oyster, and of such a profoundly reflective turn, that he lf5 scarcely ever spoke except in monosyllables, yet did he never make up his mind on any doubtful point. This was clearly accounted for by his adherents, who affirmed that he always conceived every object on so comprehensive a scale, that he had not room in his head to turn it over, and 20 examine both sides of it ; so that he always remained in doubt, merely in consequence of the astonishing magnitude of his ideas ! There are two opposite ways by which some men get into notice, — one by talking a vast deal, and thinking a * Pronounced Tweefler. 13* 160 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAKT II. little, and the other, by hokling iheir tongues and not thinking at all. By the first, many a A'aporing, superficial pretender acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts, — by the other, many a vacant dundefpate, like the owl, 5 the stupidest of birds, comes to be complimented, by a discerning world, with all the attributes of wisdom. Tnis, by the way, is a mere casual remark, which I would not, for the universe, have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twiller. On the contrary, he was a very wise Dutchman ; 10 for he never said a foolish thing, — and of such invincible gravity, that he was never known to laugh, or even to smile, through the course of a long and prosperous life. Certain, however, it is, there never was a matter proposed, however simple, and on Avhich your common narrow- 15 minded mortals would rashly determine at the first glance, but what the renowned Wouter put on a mighty mysteri- ous, vacant kind of look, shook his capacious head, and having smoked, for five minutes, with redoubled earnest- ness, sagely observed, that " he had his doubts about the 20 matter," — which in process of time gained him the charac- ter of a man slow in belief, and not easily imposed on. The person of this illustrious old gentleman, was as reg- ularly formed, and nobly proportioned, as though it had been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch statu- 25 ary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly five feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches in circuitiference. His head was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendous dimensions, that dame Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to 30 construct a neck capable of supporting it ; wherefore she wisely declined the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his back bone, just between the shoulders. His body was of an oblong form, particularly capacious at bottom ; which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing 35 that he was a man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labor of walking. His legs, though exceeding short, were sturdy in proportion to the weight they had to sustain ; so that, when erect, he had not a little the appear- ance of a robustious beer-barrel, standing on skids. His 40 face, that infallible index of the mind, presented a vast expanse, perfectly unfurrowed or deformed by any of those lines and angles which disfigure the human countenance with what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser mag- PART n.] READER AND. SPEAKER. 151 nitude in the hazy firmament ; and his full-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll of every thing that went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and streaked with dusky red, like a Spitzenberg apple. 5 His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four stated meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each ; he smoked and doubted eight hours j and he slept the remaining twelve of the four-and-twenty. Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller, — a true philosopher ; 10 for his mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and perplexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, without feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved round it, or it round the sun ; and he had watched, for at least half a century, the 15 smoke curling from his pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling his head with any of those numerous theories, by which the philosopher would have perplexed his brain, in accounting fox its rising above the surrounding atmos- phere. LESSON LI. INVOCATION OF MIRTH. MUton. [The extract which follows, is an example of the ' quick ' rate of utterance, which characterizes the tones of joy and mirth. The voice, in the reading of such passages as the following, moves with great rapidily, in comparison with the ordinary rate. The utterance, in this instance, is ' high ' and ' loud ', as well as ' very quick'. The practice of this style, is useful, not only for its immediate, but its general effect. It enlivens the tones of the voice, and imparts fluena/ in enunciation.] [I ° u u] Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, 5 Such as hang on Hebe's "* cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek ; Sport, that wrinkled Care derides. And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it, as you go, 10 On the light fantastic toe ; And in thy right hand lead with thee, The mountain-nymph, sweet Liberty ; And, if I give thee honor due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, * The goddess of youth. 18B AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART U. To live with her, and live with thee, In iinrep'-oved pleasures free ; To hear the lark begin his flight, And, singing, startle the dull night, 5 From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow. Through the sweet brier or the vine, 10 Or the twisted eglantine : While the ploughman, near at hand. Whistles o'er the furrowed land. And the milkmaid singeth blithe. And the mower whets his sithe, 15 And every shepherd tells his tale, Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures. While the landscape round iiJneasures, Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 20 Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Meadows trim, with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide. Sometimes with secure delight. The upland hamlets will invite, 25 " When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecs* sound To many a youth, and many a maid, Dancing in the checkered shade ; And young and old come forth to play, 30 On a sunshine holy-day. Till the livelong daylight fail. LESSON LIL — MARCO BOZZARIS. F. G. HALLECK. [The marking of the following piece, is extended to the indication of tones' and 'modulation', 'stress', and 'quality'; as all these modes of voice, are inseparably connected in utterance, and all of them arise from cmotiun, as their common source. The principal points in emphasis, inflectio/i, and pausing, are also indicated, wher- ever they are esSelTtial elements of ' ez])ression\] This heroic chief fell in an attack upon the Turkish camp at Laspi, the site of the ancient Plataea, August 20, 1S23, and expired in the moment of victory. His last * Rebec, a peculiar sort of violin. ?ART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 153 words were, — " To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not a pain." [x o — ] At midj^ight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour ' When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, — 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 press'd that monarch's throne, — a kIng; As ivild his thoughts, and gay of wing. As Ede?is g&rden lird. [x o — ] An hour | pass'd on : — [I u] the Turk awoke ; — [° — ] That bright dream II [^J was his last ; — He woke — to hear his sentrifs shriek, [I I ° ° u] " To ARMS ! they cbine : the Greek ! the GR^EK !" He woke — [q] to d'ie II midst ^d?rte and smoke, And shout, and groan, and sabre-stroke. And death-shots | falling thick ' and fast | As lightyiings ' from the mountain clmid ; < And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, < Bozzaris \ cheer his band; — [I I ° u] " Strike — till the last arm'd foe ' expires, STRIKE — for your altars ' and jonx fires, STRIKE — for the green graves of your sires, G6d, — and your native lInd ! " [I] They fought, like brave men, I67ig ' and lokll, They piled that ground with Moslem sld,in; < They conquered ; — [x ^ — ] but Bozzaris \ fell. Bleeding ' at every vein. [x°— ] His few I surviving comrades II saw His smile, when rang their proud hurrXh, And the red field ' was won; [xx , = ] Then saw | in death ' his eyelids close \ Calmly, as to a nighVs repose, hike Jlowers ' at set of smw. [x ao — ] Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! Come to the mother, when she feels. For the Jirst time, her first born's breath; — Come ' when the blessed seals ' 164 AMEniCAN COMMON-SCHOOL [pART 11. Which close the phtileyice \ are hrSke, < And crowded cities \ wail its stroke ; — Come I in Consiimptio7i's ghastly form, [I] The earthquake shock, the ocean storm : — Come I when the heart ' beats high ' and warm, Witn bdnquet-song, and d&7ice, and imne, — [Xqo— ] And thon art terrible : the tiiar. The groan, the knell, the pall, the ife?', And all we know, or d.ream, ox fear ' Of agony, are thine. [I ° u] But to the HERO, — when his sword Has 7von the battle for the/?-t'e, — Thy voice | sounds like a prophefs word, And ' in its hollow tones \ are heard The thanks of millions | yet to he. [x o — ] Bozzdris ! with the storied Zirave ' Greece nurtured in her glory^s time, U^^i thee : — there is no prouder grave, Even in her dw7i proud cltjne. We tell thy doom ' without a sigh ; PI ii For tho2i art Freedom's now, and Fame's, — L '-' One of the few, the immortal names, That Avere not born to die. lesson lui. — WATERLOO. — Byrou. [Marked as Lesson LII.] [" — ]. There was a sound ' of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital II had gather'd ' then [ < Her beauty ' and her chivalry ; and bright ' < The lamps ' shone | o'er fair women \ and brave mhn : [I *] A thousand hearts I beat happily, and when [x] < Music ' arose ' with its voluptuous swill, Soft eyes | look'd love i to eyes which spake agam ; • <: And all ' went merry as a marriage-bkll : [Xqu] But hush! HARK! — a deep sound \ strikes ' like a [a. 5'.] rising knell ! [I " u] Did ye not hear it ? [I — ] N6 ; 't was but the tvind, Or the car | rattling o'er the stony street ; On with the dance .' ]oX jnjj ' be tcnconfined; < No sleep till morn, when Youth ' and PUasure ' meet, < To chase the glotving hours ' ■with, flying f^et — TART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 1^ [x o u] But hA.rk ! — that heavy soujid \ breaks in ' orice more, -< As if the clouds II its echo ' would repeat ; < And nearer., clearer, deadlier than before ! [11**° ou] Arm ! — ARM ! — [| o— ] it h, — it is, — the cannon's open- la. J.] ing roar ! [ ] Within a windowed niche of that high hall II Sat Briinsurick's fated chieftain; he did hear ' That sound ' i\\e first \ amidst the festival, And caught its toiie ' with death's prophetic ear ; And when they smiled ' because he deem'd it near, His heart \ more truly kneio that peal ' too well II Which stretched \)\?, father ' on a bloody bier, < And roused the vengeance \ blood ' alone ' would quell : < He rush'd into the field, and, fdre7nost fighting, fell. [x o u] Ah ! then ' and there ' was hurrying to and fro, [a. g.] And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all p&le, which | but an hour ago II Bliish'd ' at the praise of their oion loveliness ; And there were sicdden pdrtirigs, such as press The life I from out young hearts, and choking sighs I' [o ~] Which 7ie'er might be repeated ; loho could guess II If ever more ' should meet ' those mutual eyes, [boo=] Since upon night ' so sweet, such awful morn \ could rise ! [I o u] And there was mounting ' in hot haste ; the st^ed, The mustering sqtiadroyi, and the clattering c&r, VI em pouring forward ' with impetuous spied, And sioiftly forming ' in the ranks of war : [I o — ] -^"d the deep thunder, peal on peal ' afar ; And near, the beat of the alarming drum \ [I u] Boused up the soldier ' ere the morning-star ; [x " u] While thronged the citize?is | with terror dumb, Or whimpering II with white lips ' [°] "The foe ' Thev [a. q.] c6me, they c6ME !" [!*•] And vnld l and high | the "Cameron's gathering '^ rose ! [;7M. ?.] The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills \ Have Aear^Z II and Aear^i, [ ] Last noon II beheld them full of lusty life, \\jt\ Last eve II in beauty's circle ' proudly gay, < The midnight \ brought the signal sound of strife, < The morn W the marshalling in drw5, — the d&y II < Battle's magnificently stern array ! [x o — ] The thunder-clouds \ close o'er it, which ' when rSnt, The earth \ is cover'd thick \ with o^Aer clay, [x oo = ] \VTiich her own clay shall cover, heap'd and ^j^ra^, Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one ' red ' burial < ' blent. LESSON Liv. — PRUSSIAN BATTLE HYMN. — Translated from KornerA [Marked as Lesson LII.] [x o — ] Father of earth ' and heaven ! I call Thy ndme ! < Round me the smoke ' and shout ' of battle | r61I ; [I — ] My eyes \ are dazzled | with the rustling flhme ; [x o — ] Father, sustain, an untried soldier's sowZ. [I — ] Or life, or death, whatever be the goal | That cro/wi-w | ox closes round ' this struggling hour, Thou knowest, if ever | from my spirit ' stole ' One ' deeper prayer, 't was | that no cloud ' might lower ' On my ijoung fame .' — [I ^ — ] Oh ! hear ! God oi eter- nal puiver ! * Pronounced Arden. I The in this word has no correspondent sound in English : it is nearly, as the French au. PAET II.] READEK AND SPEAKER. 167 [— ] God ! Thou art merciful. — The wintry storm, The cloud | that pours the thunder ' from its womb, __ But show the sterner grandeur of Thy f5rm ; < The lightnings, glancing through the midnight gloom, [x o — ] To Faith's raised eye ' as calm, as lovely come, As splendors of the autumnal ' evening star, [xx ° — ] As roses | shaken by the breeze's pliime, When I like cool incense \ comes the deivy dir. And on the golden ivdve, the sim-set \ burns afar. [Iq— ] God I Thou art mighty I — At thy footstool bound, Lie gazing to thee, Chance, and JAfe, and Death; <: Nor in the Angel-circle \ flaming round, < Nor in the million worlds \ that blaze beneath, < Is one I that can withstand Thy wrath's hot breath. Wb \ in Thy yro<<;« — in Thy smile | victory I [oo] Hear my last "prayer ! — I ask no mortal wreath ; [I] Let but these eyes my rescued country see, [o] Then tcike my spirit, All Omnipotent, to Thee. [11° u] Now for the fight ! — now for the cannon-peal ! — Forward ! — through blood, and toil, and cloud, and fire ! ]' Glorious ' the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, The volley's roll, the rocket's blasting spire ! They shake, — like broken lodves \ their squares retire. ■ ON them HUSSARS ! — Noio ' give them rein ' and HEEL ! Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire :— Earth ' cries for blood, — in THtlNDER ' on them wheel ! [| o — ] This hour II to Europe's fate II shall set the triumph- seal ! LESSON LV. BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. MrS. Hcmans. [This, and whatever other lessons the teacher thinks proper to select, may be marked, by the reader, as Lesson LIT.] The celebrated Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, liaving made many inefTectual efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, who had been imprisoned by King Alfonso of Asturias, almost from the time of Bernardo's birth, at last took up arms in despair. The war which lie maintained, proved so destructive, that the men of the land gathered round the king, and united in demanding li 158 AMERICAN UOMMON-SCHOOL [I'ART 11. Saldana's liberty. Alfonso accordingly offered Bernardo immediate possession of his father's person, in exchange for his castle at Carpio. j3emardo, without hesitation, gave up his strong hold, with all his captives, and being assured that liis father was then on his way from prison, rode forth with the king to meet him. "And when he saw his father approaching, he exclaimed," says the ancient chronicle, "Oh! God, is the Count Saldana indeed coming ? " " Look where he is," replied the cruel king, "and now go and greet him, whom you haye so long desired to see." — Tlie remainder of the story M'ill be found re- lated in the ballad. Tlie chronicles and romances leave us nearly in the dark, as to Bernardo's future history after this event, with the ex- ception of the final interview in which he renounced his allegiance to the king. The warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart of fire, And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire ; " I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, Ipledgetheefaith,my liege, my lord !— Oh ! break my father's chain!" " Rise, rise ! even now thy father comes, a ransomed man this day : Mount thy good horse ; and thou and I will meet him on his way."— Then lightly rose that loyal son, and bounded on his steed. And urged, as if with lance in rest, tlie charger's foamy speed. And lo ! from far, as on they pressed, there came a glittering band. With one that 'midst them stately rode, as a leader in the land ; — " Now haste, Bernardo, haste ! for there, in very truth, is he. The father whom thy faithful heart hath yearned so long to see." His dark eye flashed, — his proud breast heaved, — his cheek's hue came and went, — He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, and there dismounting bent, A lowly knee to earth lie bent, his father's hand he took — What was there in its touch that all his fiery spirit shook 1 That hand was cold, — a frozen thing, — it dropped from his like lead, — He looked up to the face above, — the face was of the dead, A plume waved o'er the noble brow, — the brow was fixed and white ; — He met at last his father's eyes, — but in them was no sight ! Up from the ground he sprang and gazed ; — but who could paint that gaze 1 They hushed their very hearts, that saw its horror and amaze : — They might have chained hiin, as before that stony form he stood ; For the power was stricken from his arm, and from his lip the blood. "Father !" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood then- Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown,— He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. Then covering wiili his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow, " No more tliorc i:- no uiore." lie said, " to lift the sword for now,— PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 159 My king is false, my hope betrayed ! My father — oh ! the worth, The glory, and the loveliness, are passed away from earth ! "I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire ! beside thee yet ! — I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met !— Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then ; — for thee my fields were won ; And thou hast perished in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son !" Then starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein, Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all the courtier train ; And with a fierce, o'ennastering grasp, the rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face, — the king before the dead : — " Came I not forth upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss? — Be still, and gaze thou on, false king ! and tell me what is this? The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, — give answer, where are they? — ^If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold clay! " Into these glassy eyes put light, — be still ! keep down thin& ire, — Bid these white lips a blessing speak, — this earth is not my sire : — Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed, — Thou canst not? — and a king ! — his dust be mountains on thy headi" He loosed the steed, — his slack hand fell ; — upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turned from that sad place : His hope was crushed, his after-fate untold in martial strain : — His banner led the spears no more, amidst the hills of Spain. LESSON LVl. WILLIAM KIEFT. — W^ASHINGTON IRVING. Wilhelmus Kieft was in form, features, and character, the very reverse of Wouter Van Twiller, his renowned predecessor. He was of very respeclable descent, his fa- ther being inspector of windmills, in the ancient town of Saardam ; and our hero, we are told, made very curibus 5 investigations into the nature and operations of those ma- chines, when a boy, which is one reason why he after- wards came to be so ingenious a governor. His name, according to the most ingenious etymologists, was a cor- ruption of Kyver, that is to say, wrangler or scolder, and 10 expressed the hereditary disposition of his family; which, for nearly two centuries, had kept the Avindy town of Saardam in hot water, and produced more tartars and brimstoiirs, than any ten familios in thf> place; — and so MO A.MEKICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT II. truly did Wilhclinus Kioft inherit this family endo\yihent, that he had scarcely been a year in the discharge of his government, before he was universally known by the ap- pellation of William, the Tksty. 5 He was a brisk, waspish, little old gentleman, who had dried and withered away, partly through the natural pro- cess of years, and partly from being parched and burnt up by his fiery soul ; which blazed like a vehement rushlight in his bosom, constantly inciting him to most valorous 10 broils, altercations, and misadvSfttures. I have heard it observed, by a profound and philosophical judge of human nature, that if a woman waxes fat, as she grows old, the tenure of her life is verj^ precarious, but if happily she withers, she lives forever. — Such likewise was the case 15 with William, the Testy, who grew tougher in pioportion as he dried. He was some such a little Dutchman, as we may now and then see stumping briskly about the streets of our city, in a broad-skirted coal, with huge buttons, an old-fashioned cocked hat stuck on the back of his head, 20 and a cane as high as his chin. His visage was broad, and his features sharp, his nose turned up with the most petulent curl ; his cheeks were scorched into a dusky red, — doubtless in consequence of the neighborhood of two fierce little gray eyes, through which his torrid soul 25 beamed with tropical fervor. The corners of his mouth were curiously modelled into a kind of fretwork, not a little resembling the wrinkled proboscis of an irritable pug dog; — in a word, he was one of the most positive, restless, ugly, little men, that ever put himself in a passion about 30 nothing. Such were the personal endowments of William, the Testy ; but it was the sterling riches of his mind, that raised him to dignity and power. In his youth, he had passed, with great credit, through a celebrated academy at 35 the Hague, noted for producing finished scholars, with a despatch unequalled, except by certain of our American colleges. Here he skirmished very smartly, on the fron- tiers of several of the sciences, and made so gallant an inroad in the dead langi;ages, as to bring off" captive a 40 host of Greek nouns and Latin verbs, together with divers pithy saws and apothegms, all which he constantly paraded in conversation and writing, with as much vain-glory as would a triumphant general of yore display the spoils of the co\intries he had ravaged. PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 161 It is in knowledge, as in swimming' ; he who oste"!!- tatiously sports and flounders on the surface, makes more noise and splashing, and attracts more attention, than the industrious pearl diver, who plunges in search of trea- 5 sures at the bottom. The " universal acquirements" of William Kieft were the subject of great marvel and ad- miration among his countryman, — he figured about at the Hague, with as much vain-glory, as does a profound Bonze at Pekin, who has mastered half the letters of the Chinese 10 alphabet ; and, in a word, was unanimously pronounced a universal genius I — I have known many universal ge- niuses in my time ; though, to speak my mind freely, I never knew one, who, for the ordinary purposes of life, was worth his weight in straw ; — but, for the purposes of lo government, a little sound judgment, and plain common sense, is worth all the sparkling genius that ever wrote poetry, or invented theories. LESSON LVII. PALMYRA. WILLIAM WARE. Letter from a Roman nobleman, resident at Palmyra. If the gods, dear Marcus and Lucilia, came down to dwell upon earth, they could not but choose Palmyra for their seat, both on account of the general beauty of the city and its surrounding plains, and the exceeding sweet- 5 ness and serenity of its climate. It is a joy here only to sit still and live. The air, always loaded with perfume, seems to convey essential nutriment to those vi^ho breathe it ; and its hue, especially when a morning or evening sun shines through it, is of that golden cast, which, as poets 10 feign, bathes the top of Olympus. Never do we tremble here before blasts like those which from the Apennines sweep along the plains and cities of the Italian coast. No extremes of either heat or cold, are experienced in this happy spot. In winter, airs, which, in 15 other places, equally far to the north, would come bearing with them an icy coldness, are here tempered by the vast deserts of sand, which stretch away in every direction, and which, it is said, never wdiolly lose the heat treasured up during the fierce reign of the summer sun. And, in sum- 20 mer, the winds which, as they pass over the deserts, are indeed like the breath of a furnace, long before they reach the city change to a cool and refreshing breeze, by travers- ing, as they do, the vast tracts of cultivated ground, which, 162 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT U. as I have already told you, surround the capital, to a very great extent on every .sid','. Palmyra is the very lieaven of the body. Every sense is fed to the full, with that which it chiefly covets. But 5 when I add to this, tliat its \inrivalled position, in respect to a great inland traflic, has poured into the lap of its in- habitants a sudden and boundless flood of wealth, making' every merchant a prince, you will truly suppose, that however heartily I extol it for its outward beauties, and 10 all the appliances of luxurjs I do not conceive it very fa- vorable in its influences upon the character of its pop- ulation. Palmyrenes, charming- as they are, are not Romans. They are enervated by riches, and the luxurious sensual 15 indulgences which they bring along, by necessity, in their train ; — all their evil power being here increased by the voluptuous softness of the climate. I do not say, that all are so. All Rome cannot furnish a woman more truly Roman than Fausta, nor a man more worthy that 20 name than Gracchus. It is of the younger portion of the inhabitants I now speak. These are, without exception, efTeminate. They love their country and their great queen ; but they are not a defence, upon which in time of need to rely. Neither do I deny them courage. They 25 want something more vital still, — bodily strength and mar- tial training. Were it not for this, I should almost fear for the issue of any encounter between Rome and Pal- myra. But, as it is, notwithstanding the great achievements of 30 Odenatus and Zenobia, I cannot but deem the glory of this state to have risen to its highest point, and even to have passed it. You may think me to be hasty, in form- ing this opinion ; but I am persuaded you will agree with me, when you shall have seen more at length the grounds 35 upon which I rest it, as they are laid down in my last letter to Portia. • LESSON LVIII. BEAUTIES OF NATURE. SAMUEL G. HOWE. There is nothing in which the goodness of God is more apparent, than in the unsparing flood of beauty which he pours out upon all things around us. What is more strik- ing than the fact, that this beautiful canopy of clouds, 5 which curtain over our globe, when looked down upon from a mountain-top, or from a balloon, is like a leaden PART n.] READER AND SPEAKER. 163 lake, without beauty, or even color; it is like the dull canvass on the reverse of a beautiful picture ; but from within, — from where God meant man to see it, it is adorned, beautified, and variegated, in a manner inimi- 5 table by art. Dainty people cross the seas, to be thrilled by the wild sketches of Salvator Rosa, or to languish over the soft tints of Guido ; and the rich man beggars whole villages, to hang up in his gallery three square feet of the pencil- 10 work of Corregio ; but God hangs up in the summer evening sky, for the poorest peasant boy, a picture whole leagues in extent, the tints of which would make Raphael throw down his pencil in despair ; and when He gathers together the dark folds of the sky, to prepare the autumn 15 thunder storm. He heaves up the huge clouds into moun- tain masses, throws them into wild and sublime attitudes, colors them with the most lowering hues, and forms a picture which Michael Angelo, with all his genius, could not copy. 20 The rich man adorns his cabinet with a few costly works, which hang unchanged for j'^ears, while the poor man's gallery is not only adorned with pictures that eclipse the chef (Vauvrps of human genius, but they are continually changed, and every hour a new one is hung 25 up to his admiring gaze ; for the firmament rolls on, and, like a great kaleidoscope, at every turn, presents a new and beautiful combination of light, and shade, and color. Let not its rich pictures roll away unheeded ; let not its lessons be lost upon the young ; but let them, in admiring 30 it, know that God's great hand is ever turning it, for the happiness of all his children. LESSON LIX. AN INTERESTING ADVENTURE. WILLLA.M J. SWELLING. I wandered far into the bare prairie, which was spread around me like an ocean of snow, the gentle undulations here and there having no small resemblance to the ground swell. When the sun took off his night-cap of mist, (for the morning was cloudy,) the glare of the landscape, or rather snowscape, was absolutely painful to my eyes; but a small veil of green crape obviated that difficulty. To- ward noon I was aware of a bulTulo, at a long distance, 164 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAHT U. turning up the snow with his nose and feet, and cropping the withered grass beneath. I always thought it a deed of mercy to slay such an old fellow, he looks so miserable and discontented with himself. As to the individual in 5 question, I determined to put an end to his long, turbu- lent, and evil life. -^ To this eflect, I approached him, as a Chinese malefac- tor approaches a mandarin, — that is to say, prone, like a serpent. But the parity only exists with respect to the 10 posture ; for the aforesaid malefactor expects to receive pain, whereas I intended to inflict it. He was a grim- looking barbarian, — and, if a beard be a mark of wisdom, Peter, the Hermit, was a fool to him. So, when I had at- tained a suitable proximity, I appealed to his feelings with 15 a bullet. He ran, — and I ran ; and I had the best reason to run, — for he ran after me, and I thought that a pair of horns might destroy my usual equanimity and equilibri- um. In truth, I did not fly any too fast, for the old bashaw was close behind me, and I could hear him 20 breathe. I threw away my gun ; — and, as there was no tree at hand, I gained the centre of a pond of a few yards area, such as are found all over the prairies in February. Here I stood secure, as though in a magic circle, well 25 knowing that neither pigs nor buffaloes can walk upon ice. My pursuer was advised of this fact also, and did not venture to trust himself on so slippery a footing. Yet it seemed that he was no gentleman ; at least he did not practise forgiveness of injuries. He perambulated the 30 periphery of the pond, till I was nearly as cold as the ice under me. It was worse than the stone jug, or the black- hole at Calcutta. Ah ! thought I, if I only had my gun, I would soon relieve you from your post. But discontent was all in vain. Thus I remained, and 35 thus he remained, for at least four hours. In the mean while, I thought of tlie land of steady habits ; of baked beans, and pumpkins, and codfish on Saturdays. There, said I, to myself, my neighbor's proceeding would be reckoned unlawful, I guess ; for no one can be held in 40 custody without a warrant and sufficient reason. If ever I get back, I won't be caught in such a scrape again. "Grief does not last forever ; neither does anger ; — and my janitor, either forgetting his resentment, which, to say the truth, was not altogether groundless, or thinking it PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 165 was useless, or tired of his self-imposed duty, or for some reason or other, bid me farewell with a loud bellow, and walked away to a little oasis that was just in sight, and left me to my meditations. I picked up my gun, and fol- 5 lowed. He entered the wood, — and so did I, just in time to see him fall and expire. The sun was setting ; and the weather was getting colder and colder. I could hear the ground crack, and the trees split, with its intensity. I was at least twenty miles 10 from home; and it behoved me, if I did not wish to "wake in the morning and find myself dead," to make a fire as speedily as possible. I now first perceived that, in my very natural hurry to escape from my shaggy foe, I had lost the martin-skin, wherein I carried my flint, steel, and 15 tinder. This was of little consequence ; I had often made a fire by the aid of my gun before, and I drew my knife and began to pick the flint. Death to my hopes, — at the very first blow, I struck it ten yards from the lock, and it was lost forever in the snow. 20 " Well," said I to myself, " I have cooked a pretty kettle of fish, and brought my calf's head to a fine market. Shall I furnish those dissectors, the wolves, with a sub- ject, or shall cold work the same eflect on me that grief did upon Niobe ? Would that I had a skin like a buf- 25 falo!" Necessity is the spur, as well as the mother, of invention ; and, at these last words, a new idea flashed through my brain like lightning. I verily believe that I took off the skin of my victim,*n fewer than ten strokes of my knife. 30 Such a hide entirl is no trifle ; it takes a strong man to lift it ; — but I rolffU the one in question about me, with the hair inward, and lay down to sleep, tolerably sure that neither Jack Frost, nor the wolves, could get at me, through an armor thicker and tougher, than the sevenfold shield *?5 of Ajax. Darkness closed in ; and a raven began to sound his note of evil omen, from a neighboring branch. " Croak on, black angel, "^id I ; " I have heard croaking before now, and am not to be frightened by any of your color." Sud- 40 denly a herd of wolves struck up at a distance, probably excited by the scent of the slain bufijilo. " Howl on," said I ; " and, being among wolves, I will howl too, — for I like to be in the fashion : but that shall be the extent of our intimacy." Accordingly, I uplifted my voice, like a peli- 166 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. cau in the wilderness, and gave them back their noise, with interest. Then I lay down again, and moralized. This, thought I, is life. What would my poor mother say, if she were alive nov/? I have read books of advcn- 5 tures, but never read anything like this. I fell asleep, without farther ado. LESSON LX. THOi;GnTS ON POLITENESS. GEO. S. IIILLARD. The common notion about politeness is, that it is a thing of the body, and not of the mind ; and that he is a polite man who makes certain motions in a graceful manner, and at proper times and places. We expect the dancing mas- 5 ter to teach our children " manners," us well as the art of cutting awkward capers to music. But the truth is, that we degrade politeness by making it anything less than a cardinal virtue. The happiness of life is made up of an infinite number 10 of little things, and not of startling events and great emo- tions ; and he who daily and hourly diffuses pleasure around him by kind offices, frank salutations and cheerful looks, deserves as well of his species, as he, who, neglect- ing or despising all these, makes up for it by occasional 15 acts of generosity, justice, or benevolence. Besides, the opportunity of doing great things but rarely occurs, while a man has some dozens of chances, every day of his life, to show whether he be polite or not. A truly polite man must, in the first place, have the gift 20 of good sense, for without that foundation, it is idle to think of rearing any, even the smallest superstructure- He must know when to violate that code of conventional forms, which common consent has established, and when not ; for it is equally a mark of weakness, to be a slave 25 to these forms, or to despise them. He must have pene- tration and tact enough, to adapt his conversation and manner to circumstances and individuals ; for that which is politeness in the drawing-room, may be downright rude- ness in the bar-room or the stage-coae^ as well as the 30 converse. Above all, he must have that enlarged and catholic spirit of humility, which is the child of self-knowledge, and the parent of benevolence, (indeed, politeness itself is merely benevolence, seen through the little end of a spy- 35 glass,) which, not content with bowing low to this rich PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 167 man or that fine lady, respects the rights, and does justice to the claims, of every member of the great human family. As for the fastidious and exclusive persons, who look down upon a man created and upheld by the same power 5 as themselves, and heir to the same immortal destinies, because he does not dress in a particular style, or visit in certain houses, they are out of the question. If they are too weak to perceive the grotesque absurdity of their own conduct, they have not capacity enough to master the al- 10 phabet of good manners. If angelic natures be susceptible of ludicrous emotions, we know of nothing more likely to call them forth, than the sight of an insect inhabitant of this great ant-hill, assuming airs of superiority over hi^5 brother emmet, because he has a few more grains of bar ■ 15 ley in his granary, or some other equally cogent reason. LESSON LXI. — SAME SUBJECT CONCLUDED. ID. Of the gentlemen, young and old, whiskered and un- whiskered, that may be seen in Washington street any sunshiny day, there is not one who does not think himself a polite man, and who would not very much resent, any 5 insinuation to the contrary. Their opmion is grounded on reasons something like the following. When they go to a party, they make a low bow to the mistress of the house, and then look round after somebody that is young and pretty to make themselves agreeable to. 10 At a ball, they will do their utmost to entertain their partner, unless the fates have given them to some one who is ugly and awkward ; and they will listen to her re- marks with their most bland expression. If they are invited to a dinner party, they go in their best coats, praise their 15 entertainer's wine, and tell the lady they hope her chil- dren ^re all well. If they tread on the toes of a well- dressed person, they will beg his pardon. They never spit on a carpet ; and, in walking with a lady, they always give her the inside ; and, if the practice be allowable, they 20 offer her their arm. So far, very good ; but I must always see a man in certain situations, before I decide whether he be polite or not. I should like to sec how he would act, if placed at dinner between an ancient maiden lady, and a country 25 clergyman with a small salary and a rusty coat, and with 16S AJ^IERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAHT II. some distinguished person opposite to him. I want to see him on a liot and dusty day, sitting on the back seat of a stage-coach, when the driver takes in some poor lone wo- man, with may be a child in her arms, and tells the gen- 5 tlenien, that one of ihein must ride outside and make room for her. I want to be near him, when his washer-woman makes some very good excuse to him for not bringing home his clothes at the usual time, or not doing up an article in 10 exactly the style he wished. I want to hear the tone and emphasis with which he gives orders to servants in steam- boats and taverns. I mark his conduct, when he is walk- ing with an umbrella, on a rainy day, and overtakes an old man, or an invalid, or a decent looking woman, who 15 are exposed, without protection, to the violence of the storm. If he be in company with those whom he thinks his inferiors, I listen to hear, if his conversation be entirely about himself. If some of the number be very distin- guished, and some quite unknown, I observe whether he 20 acts, as if he were utterly unconscious of the presence of these last. These are a few, and but a few, of the tests by which 1 try a man ; and I am sorry to say, there are very few, who can stand them all. There is many a one who passes in 25 the world for a well-bred man, because he knows when to bow and smile, that is down in my tablets for a selfish, vulgar, unpolite monster, that loves the parings of his own nails better than his neighbor's Mhole body. Put any man in a situation, where he is called upon to make a sa- 30 crifice of his own comfort and ease, without any equiva- lent in return, and you will learn the difference between true politeness, that sterling ore of the heart, and the counterfeit imitation of it, which passes current in draw- ing-rooms. Any man must be an idiot, not to be polite in •^ society, so called; for how else would he get his oysters and Champagne ? LESSON LXII. COTTAGE ON THE SWISS ALPS. BUCKMINSTER. In one of the highest regions of the Swiss Alps, after a day of excessive labor, in reaching the summit of ou<" journey, near those thrones erected ages ago for the majes- ty of Nature, we stopped, fatigued and dispirited, on a spot 5 destined to eternal barrenness, where we found one of ?AET 11.] READER AND SPEAKER. 169 these rude but hospitable inns open to receive us. There was not another human habitation, within many miles. All the soil, which we could see, had been brought thither, and placed carefully round the cottage, to nourish a few 5 cabbages and lettuces. There were some goats, which supplied the cottagers with milk ; a few fowls lived in the house ; and the greatest luxuries of the place were new- made cheeses, and some wild alpine mutton, the rare pro- vision of the traveller. Yet here Nature-had thrown ofT 10 the veil, and appeared in all her subliiirity. Summits of bare granite rose all around us. The snow-clad tops of the distant Alps, seemed to chill the moon-beams that lighted on them ; and we felt all the charms of the picturesque, mingled with the awe inspired by unchangeable grandeur. 15 We seemed to have reached the original elevations of the globe, o'ertopping forever the tumults, the vices, and the miseries of ordinary existence, far out of hearing of the murmurs of a busy world, which discord ravages, and luxury corrupts. We asked for the album, and a large 20 folio was brought to us, almost filled with the scrawls of every nation on earth that could write. Instantly our fatigue was forgotten ; and the evening passed away pleas- antly in the entertainment which this book afforded us. LESSON LXIU. — PETER STUYVESANT. WASHINGTON IRVING. Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and; like the renowned Wouter Van Twiller, he was also the best, of our ancient Dutch governors : Wouter having surpassed all who pre^ ceded him, and Peter having never been equalled by any 5 successor. To say merely that he v.'as a hero, would be doing him great injustice ; — he was in truth a combination of heroes ; — for he was of a sturdy, raw-bone make, like Ajax Tela- mon, with a pair of round shoulders that Hercules would 10 have given his hide for, (meaning his lion's hide,) when he undertook to ease old Atlas of his load. He was, more- over, as Plutarch describes Coriolanus, not only terrible for the force of his arm, but likewise of his voice, which sounded as though it came out of a barrel ; and like the 15 selfsame warrior, he possessed a sovereign contempt for the sovereign people, and an iron aspect, which was enough of itself to make the very bowels of his adversaries quake with terror and dismay. 15 VJjOr AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [pART 11. All this martial excellency was inexpressibly height- ened by an accidental advantage, with which I am sur- prised that neither Homer nor Virgil have graced any of their heroes. This was nothing less than a wooden leg, 5 which was the only prize he had gained, in bravely fight- ing the battles of his country, but of which he was so proud, that he was often heard to declare, he valued it more, than all his other limbs put together ; indeed, so highly did he esteem it, that he had it gallantly enchased 10 and relieved with silver devices, which caused it to be related in divers histories and legends, that he wore a silver leg. * Like that choleric warrior, Achilles, he was somewhat subject to extempore bursts of passion, which were ofttimes 15 rather unpleasant to his favorites and attendants, whose perceptions he was apt to quicken, after the manner of his illustrious imitator, Peter ihe Great, by anointing their shoulders with his walking-staff. He was, in fact, the very reverse of his predecessors, 20 being neither tranquil and inert, like Walter, the Doubter, nor restless and fidgeting, like William, the Testy ; but a man, or rather a governor, of such uncommon activity and decision of mind, that he never sought or accepted the advice of others ; depending confidently upon his single 25 head, as did the heroes of yore upon their single arms, to work his way through all difficulties and dangers. To tell the simple truth, he wanted no other requisite for a perfect statesman, than to think always right, for no one can deny, that he always acted as he thought ; and if he wanted 30 in correctness, he made up for it in perseverance, — an excellent quality ! since it is surely more dignified for a ruler to be persevering and consistent in error, than wa- vering and contradictory, in endeavoring to do what is right. This much is certain, and, it is a maxim worthy 35 the attention of all legislators, both great and small, who stand shaking in the wind, without knowing which way to steer, — a ruler who acts according to his own will, is sure of pleasing himself, while he who seeks to satisfy the wishes and whims of others, runs a great risk of 40 pleasing nobody. The clock that stands still, and points steadfastly in one direction, is certain of being right twice in the four-and-twenly hours, — while others may keep going continually, and continually be going wrong. Nor did this magnanimoiis virtue escape the discern- PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 171 ment of the good people of Nieuw-Nederlandts ;* on the contrary, so high an opinion had they of the independent mind and vigorous intellect of their new governor, that they universally called him Hardkopping Piet,\ or Peter the 5 Headstrong, — a great compliment to his understanding ! If from all that I have said, thou dost not gather, worthy reader, that Peter Stuyvesant was a tough, sturdy, valiant, weatherbeaten, mettlesome, obstinate, leathern-sided, lion- hearted, generous-spirited old governor, either I have writ- 10 ten to but little purpose, or thou art very dull at drawing conclusions. LESSON LXIV. QDE ON ART. — CHARLES SPRAGUE. When, from the sacred garden driven, Man fled before his Maker's wrath, An angel left her place in heaven, * And crossed the wanderer's sunless path. 5 'T was Art I sweet Art ! new radiance broke Where her light foot flew o'er the ground ; And thus with sejaph voice she spoke, — " The Curse a Blessing shall be found." She led him through the trackless wild, 10 Where noontide sunbeam never blazed ; . The thistle shrunk, the harvest smiled, And Nature gladdened, as she gazed. Earth's thousand tribes of living things, At Art's command, to him are given ; 15 The village grows, the city springs, And point their spires of faith to heaven. He rends the oak, — and bids it ride. To guard the shores its beauty graced; He smites the rock, — upheaved in pride, 20 See towers of strength and domes of taste. Earth's teeming caves their wealth reveal, Fire bears his banner on the wave, He bids the mortal poison heal, And leaps triumphant o'er the grave. 25 He plucks the pearls that stud the deep, Admiring Beauty's lap to fill ; He breaks the stubborn marble's sleep. And mocks his own Creator's skill. * Pronounced New Nayderldnts. f Pronounced Ptet. 172 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART IL With thoughts that swell his glowing soul, He bids the ore illume the page, And proudly scorning Time's control, Commerces with an unborn age. 5 In fields of air he writes his name. And treads the chambers of the sky ; He reads the stars, and grasps the flame That quivers round the Throne on high. In war renowned, in peace sublime, 10 He moves in greatness and in grace ; His power, subduing space and lime. Links realin to realm, and race to race. LESSON LXV. KOBERT BURNS. F. G. HALLECK. The memory of Burns, — a name That calls, when brimmed her festal cup, A nation's glory, and her shame, In silent sadness up. 5 A nation's glory, — be the rest • Forgot, — she 's canonized his mind ; And it is joy to speak the best We may of human kind. I 've stood beside the cottage bed 10 Where the Bard-peasant first drew breath A straw-thatched roof above his head, A straw-wrought couch beneath. And I have stood beside the pile, His monument, — that tells to heaven 15 The homage of earth's proudest isle To that Bafd-peasant given ! Bid thy thoughts hover o'er that spot, Boy-Minstrel, in thy dreaming hour ; And know, however low his lot, 20 A Poet's pride and power. The pride that lifted Burns from earth, The power that gave a child of song Ascendancy o'er rank and birth. The rich, the brave, the strong ; 25 And if despondency weigh down Thy spirit's fluttering pinions then, PART n.] READER AND SPEAKER. iW Despair : — thy name is written on The roll of common men. There have been loftier themes than his, And longer scrolls, and louder lyres, 5 And lays lit up with Poesy's ^ Purer and holier fires : Yet read the names that know not death ; Few nobler ones than Burns are there ; And few have won a greener wreath 10 Than that which binds his hair. His is that language of the heart, In which the answering heart would speak, Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start. Or the smile light the cheek ; 15 And his that music, to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time, In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime. And who hath heard his song, nor kneU 20 Before its spell, with willing knee, And listen'd, and believed, and felt The Poet's mastery ? O'er the mind's sea, in calm and storm. O'er the heart's sunshine and its showers, 25 O'er Passion's moments, bright and warm. O'er Reason's dark, cold hours ; On fields where brave men " die or do," In halls where rings the banquet's mirth, Where mourners weep, where lovers woo, 30 From throne to cottage hearth ; What sweet tears dim the eyes unshed, What wild vows falter on the tongue, When " Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled," Or " Auld Lang Syne " is sung ! 35 Pure hopes, that lift the soul above. Come with his Cottar's hymn of praise. And dreams of youth, and truth, and love, With " Logan's " banks and braes. And when he breathes his master-lay 40 Of Alloway's witch-haunted wall, 1.5* W4 AMERICAN COMMQiJ-SCHOOL [PART ^ All passions in our frames of clay Come thronging at his call. Imagination's world of air, And our own world, lis gloom and glee, 5 Wit, patEo^, poetry, are there, And death's sublimity. And Burns, — though brief the race he ran, Though rough and dark the path he trod, — Lived, — died, — in form and soul a Man, 10 The imacfe of his God. LESSON LXVI. THE FUTURE LIFE. W. C. BRYANT. Lines addressed to a deceased friend. How shall I know thee in the spljgre which keeps The disembodied spirits of the dead. When all of thee that time could wither, sleeps, And perishes among the dust we tread ? 5 For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain, If there I meet thy gentle presence not; Nor hear the voice I love, nor read again In thy serenest eyes the tender thought. Will not thy own meek heart demand me there ? iO That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given ? My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven ? In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, 15 And larger movements of the unfettered mind, Wilt thou forget the love that joined us here ? The love that lived through all the stormy past, And meekly with my harsher nature bore. And deeper grew, and tenderer to the last, 20 Shall it expire with life, and be no more ? A happier lot than mine, and larger light. Await thee there ; for thou hast bowed thy will In cheerful homage to the rule of right. And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. 25 For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume the heart, as heat the scroll PART 11.] READER AND SPEAKER. 176 And wrath hath left its scar, — that fire of hell Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name, 5 The same fair thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same ? Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, The wisdom that I learned so ill in this, — The wisdom which is love, — till I become 10 Thy fit companion in that land of bliss ? LESSON LXVII. THE SPIRIT OF POETRY. — H. W. LONGFELLOW. There is a quiet spirit in these woods. That dwells wllj6;e'er the south wind blows ; Where, underneath the white thorn in the glade, The wild flowers bloom, or, kissing the soft air, The leaves above their sunny palms outspread. With what a tender and empassion'd voice It fills the nice and delicate ear of thought, When the fast-ushering star of morning comes, wkp"-riding the^gray hills with golden scarf; Or when the ofwled and dusky-sandaled Eve, In mourning weeds, from out the western gate. Departs with silent pace ! That spirit moves In the green valley, where the silver brq^ok. From its full laver, pours the white cascade ; And, babbling low amid the tangled woods. Slips down through moss-grown stones with endless laughter.. And frequent, on the everlasling hills. Its feet go fSVTft,' when it doth wrap itself In all the dark embroidery of the storm. And shouts the stern, strong wind. And here, amid The silent majesty of these deep woods. Its presence, shan uplift tli^ thoughts from earth. As to the sunshine, and the pure bright air, Their tops the green trees lift* Hence gifted bards Have ever loved the calm and quiet shades. For them there was an eloquent voice in all The sylvan pomp of woods, the golden sun, The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way, Blue skies, and silver clouds, and gentle winds; The swolHng upland, where the sidelong sun 176 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART U. Aslant the wooded slope at evening goes ; Groves, through whose broken roof the sky looks in ; Mountain, and shattered cliff", and sunny vale, The distant lake, fountains, and mighty trees, 5 In many a lazy syllabic, repeating Their old poetical legends to the wind. And this is the sweet spirit that doth fill The world ; and, in those wayward days of youth, My busy fancy oft embodies it, 10 As the bright image of the light and beauty That dwell in nature, of the heavenly forms We worship in our dreams, and the soft hues That stain the wild bird's wing, and flush the clouds \Vlien the sun sets. Within her eye 15 The heaven of April, with its changing ligrht, And when it wears the blue of May, is hwig, And on her lip the rich red rose. Her hair Is like the summer tresses of the trees. When twilight makes them brown, and on her cheek 20 Blushes the richness of an autumn sky, With ever-shifting beauty. Then her breath. It is so like the gentle air of Spring, • As, from the morning's dewy flowers, it cojjnes Full of their fragrance, that it is a joy 25 To have it round us, and her silver voice Is the rich music of a summer bird, Heard in the still night, with its passionate cadence. LESSON LXVin. THE SOLDIER S WIDOW. N. P. WILL?^. Woe ! for my vine-clad home ! That it should ever be so dark to me. With its bright threshold, and its whispering tree ' That I should ever come, 5 Fearing the lonely echo of af tread, * Beneath the roof-tree of my glorious dead ! Lead on ! my orplltn boy ! Thy home is not so desolate to thee, And the low shiver in the linden tree 10 May bring to thee a joy ; But, oh ! how dark is the bright home before thee To her who with a joyous spirit bore thee ! PART 11.] READER AND SPEAKER. 177 Lead on ! for thou art now My sole remaining helper. God hath spoken, And the strong heart I leaned upon is broken; And I have seen his brow, 5 The forehead of my upright one, and just, Trod by the hoof of battle to the dust. He will not meet thee there Who blessed thee at the eventide, my son ! • . And when the shadows of the night steal on, 10 He will not call to prayer. The lips that melted, giving thee to God, Are in the icy keeping of the sod ! Ay, my own boy ! thy sire Is with the sleepers of the valley cast, 15 And the proud glory of my life hath past, With liis high glance of fire. Woe ! that the linden and the vine should bloom, And a just man be gathered to the tomb I LESSON LXIX. THE SICILIAN VESPERS. J. G. WHITTIER. Silence o'er sea and earth With the veil of evening fell, Till tiie convent tower sent deeply forth The chime of its vesper-bell.^ 5 One moment, and that solemn sound Fell heavily on the ear ; But a sterner echo passed around, Which the boldest shook to hear. The startled monks thronged up, 10 In the torchlight cold and dim ; And the priest let fall his incense cup. And the virgin hushed her hymn ; For a boding clash, and a clanging tramp, And a summoning voice were heard, 15 And fretted wall, and tombstone damp. To the fearful echo stirred. The peasant heard the sound, As he sat beside his hearth ; And the song and the dance were hushed around, 20 With the fireside tale of mirth. * The signal adopted by the Sicilians, fur commencing the massacre of their French conquerors. 178 AMEniCAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. Tlie chieftain shook in his bannered hall, As the somul of war drew nigh ; And the warder shrank from the castle wall, As the gleam of spears went by. 5 Woe, woe, to the stranger then. At the feast and flow of wine, In the red array of mailed men, Or bowed at the holy shrine ! For the wakened pride of an injured land • • 10 Had burst its iron thrall ; From the plumed chief to the pilgrim band ; Woe, woe, to tlie sons of Gaul ! Proud beings fell that hour, With the young and passing fair ; 15 And the flame went up from dome and tower The avenger's arm was there ! The stranger priest at the altar stood, ' And clasped his beads in prayer. But the holy shrine grew dim with blood, — 20 The avenger found him there ! Woe, woe, to the sons of Gaul, To the serf and mailed lord ! They were gathered darkly, one and all, To the harvest of the sword ; 25 And the morning sun, with a quiet smile. Shone out o'er hill and glen, On ruined temple and mouldering pile, And the ghastly forms of men. Ay, the sunshine sweetly smiled, 30 As its early glance came forth : It had no sympathy with the wild And terrible things of earth ; And the man of blood that day might read. In a language freely given, 35 How ill his dark and midnight deed Became the light of heaven. LESSON LXX. MEXICAN MYTHOLOGY. WM. H. PRESCOTT. The Aztecs, or ancient Mexicans, had no adequate con- ception of the true God. The idea of unity, — of a being, with whom volition is action, who has no need of inferioi PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 179 ministers to execute' his purposes, — was too simple, or too vast, for their understandings ; and they sought relief, as usual, in a plurality of deities, who presided over the ele- ments, the changes of the seasons, and the various occu- 5 pations of man. Of these, there were thirteen principal deities, and more than two hundred inferior ; to each of whom some special day, or appropriate festival, was con- secrated. At the head of all stood the terrible Mexican Mars ;'^ 1ft although it is doing injustice to the heroic war-god of an- tiquity, to identify him Avith this sanguinary monster. This was the patron deity of the nation. His fantastic image was loaded with costly ornaments. His temples Avere the most stately and august of the public edifices ; 15 and his altars reeked with the blood of human hecatombs, in every city of the empire. Disastrous, indeed, must have been the influence of such a superstition on the character of the people. A far more interesting personage in their mythology 20 was the godt of the air, a divinity who, during his resi- dence on earth, instructed the natives in the use of metals, in agriculture, and in the arts of government. He was one of those benefactors of their species, doubtless, who have been deified by the gratitude of posterity. Under 25 him, the earth teemed with fruits and flowers, without the pains of culture. An ear of Indian corn was as much as a single man could carry. The cotton, as it grew, took, of its own accord, the rich dyes of human art. The air was filled with intoxicating perfumes, and the sweet 30 melody of birds. In short, these were the halcyon days, which find a place in the mythic systems of so many na- tions of the Old World. It Avas the golden age pf Anahuac. From some cause, not explained, this god incurred the 35 wrath of one of the principal gods, and was compelled to abandon the country. On his way, he stopped at the city of Cholula, where a temple Avas dedicated to his worship, the massy ruins of AA^hich still form one of the most inter- esting relics of antiquity in Mexico. When he reached 40 the shores of the Mexican Gulf, he took leave of his fol- lowers, promising, that he and his descendants Avould re- visit them hereafter, and then, entering his wizard skifT, * Huitzilopotchli f Quetzalcoall. ISO ami:kican common-school [part il. made of serpents' skins, embarked on the great ocean for the fabled hind of Tlapalhm. He was said to have been tall in stature, with a while skin, long, dark hair, and a flowing beard. The Mexicans looked confidently to the 5 return of the benevolent deity ; and this remarkable tra- dition, deeply cherished in their hearts, prepared the way for the future success of the Spaniards. LESSON LXXI. — ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF LANGUAGB. — ^ SAMUEL G. HOWE. It is not an unprofitable question to ask, what was the origin and progress of language ? And the answer must be, that it is the gradual work of the human race, carried on through long ages, and not yet finished and perfected. 5 There is no good reason to suppose, that God made any departure, in the case of language, from that course by which He governs the universe, and which we call the iaws of nature ; He never gives us anything outright ; He endows us with capacities, powers, and desires, and then 10 placing certain desirable objects before us, bids us work to obtain them. To say, as some divines do, that it would have been impossible for man to commence and perfect language, is to say, that God could not have endowed him with capaci- 15 ties for doing so. God ha^ so endowed the human race ; He has given them both the desire and capacity of forming language : the result of their neglecting these capacities would have been, and is still, in some cases, that they tarry long in a 20 state of barbarism ; the result of their exercising and im- proving them in other cases, has been advancement in every thing which improves and elevates humanity. If it be said, we are positively told, in the second chap- ter of Genesis, that, in the very beginning, Adam used 25 language, and named the beasts of the field, I answer, we must consider the second chapter metaphorical, as we do the first, where we are told that light, and day and night, were established on the first day, while the sun and moon were not brought into existence until the fourth day ; or, 30 if people will insist on rendering some parts literally and others metaphorically, just as suits them, then I say the first language was probably very imperfect and merely elementary; and that one may prove, even from Scripture, PART II ] READER AND SPEAKER. 181 that man was obliged to worK for his language, as he is obliged to work for every other good thing. The confusion of tongues must have amounted virtually to annihilation of speech ; the sounds which each uttered, 5 were incomprehensible jargon to all the others ; each knew what he would say, but could make no other under- stand him ;■ they probably shouted, as we do to deaf peo- ple, thinking to be better understood, but this only made the others stop their ears, until at last, losing all patience, K) they scattered in small groups, or in pairs. After this, the process of building up language must have been simi- lar to that which we see infants and children going through every day. Suppose two or more to have separated from the rest ; 15 they would cling together ; they would, at first, by rude sounds and gestures, begin to form a system of signs, by which they could understand each other ; one, looking to a fruit, would utter a sound once, perhaps twice, and the next time the sound was repeated, it would recall the 20 thought of the fruit, and become its name to those two ; but to other two it would have no meaning, for they had perhaps in the mean time fixed upon some other sound, as the sign for the fruit. One, feeling a pain, or a desire, thirst for instance, would utter a certain sound; this re- 25 peated, would become the sign of that feeling. After establishing signs for all manner of external things, by gradual and easy analogy, they would go on to mental emotions ; they would establish signs for time past, time present, time to come ; all these at first would 30 have to be made clear by the expression of the features, by gestures, &c. ; but gradually these gestures would be dropped, as the conventional meaning of the sounds be- came established, until at last a purely arbitrary sign, — a vocal -sound, — a word, — would recall the thought of the 35 object. LESSON LXXII. ZENOBIA's AMBITION. WILLIAM WARE. I am charged with pride and ambition. The charge is true, and I glory in its truth. Who ever achieved any thing great in letters, arts, or arms, who was not ambi- tious ? CfEsar Avas not more ambitious than Cicero. It 5 was but in another way. All greatness is born of ambi- tion. Let the ambition be a noble one, and who shall blame it? I confess I did once aspire to be queen, not 16 182 AMEHICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PAUT U. only of Palmyra, but of the East. That I am. I now aspire to remain so. Is it not an honorahle ambition 1 Does it not become a descendant of the Ptolemies and of Cleopatra ? I am applauded by you all for what I have 5 already done. You would not it should have been less. But why pause here ? Is so much ambition praisewor- thy, and more criminal ? Is it fixed in nature that the limits of this empire should be Egj-pt, on the one hand, the Hellespont and the Euxine, on the other? Were not 10 Suez and Armenia more natural limits? Or hath empire no natural limit, but is broad as the genius that can de- vise, and the power that can win. Rome has the West. Let Palmyra possess the East. Not that nature prescribes this and no more. The gods prospering, and I swear not 15 that the Mediterranean shall hem me in upon the west, or Persia on the east, Longinus is right, — I would that the world were mine. I feel, within, the will and the power to bless it, were it so. Are not my people happy ? I look upon the past and 20 the present, upon my nearer and remoter subjects, and ask nor fear the answer. Whom have I Avronged ? — what province have I oppressed ? — what city pillaged ? — what region drained with taxes ? — whose life have I unjustly taken, or estates coveted or robbed ? — whose honor have I 25 wantonly assailed ? — whose rights, though of the weakest and poorest, have I trenched upon ? — I dwell, where I would ever dwell, in the hearts of my people. It is Avrit- ten in your faces, that I reign not more over you than within you. The foundation of my throne is not more 60 power, than love. Suppose now, mv ambition add another province to our realm. Is it an evil? The kingdoms already bound to us by the joint acts of ourself and the late royal Odenatus, we found discordant and at war. They are now united 35 and at peace. One harmonious whole has grown out of hostile and sundered parts. At my hands they receive a common justice and equal benefits. The channels of their commerce have I opened, and dug them deep and sure. Prosperity and plenty are in all their borders. The streets 40 of our capital bear testimony to the distant and various industry which here seeks its market. This is no vain'boasting: — receive it not so, good friends. It is but truth. He who traduces himself, sins with him who traduces nnothcr. He who is unjust to himself, or PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 183 less than just, breaks a law, as well as he who hurts his neighbor. I tell you what I am, and what I have done, that your trust for the future may not rest upon ignorant grounds. If I am more than just to myself, rebuke me. 5 If I have overstepped the modesty that became me, I am open to your censure, and will bear it. But I have spoken, that you may know your queen, — not only by her acts, but by her admitted principles. I tell you then that I am ambitious, — that I crave dominion, 10 and while I live tvill reign. Sprung from a line of kings, a throne is my natural seat. I love it. But I strive, too, — you can bear me witness that I do, — that it shall be, while I sit upon it, an honored, unpolluted seat. If I can, I will hang a yet brighter glory around it. LESSON LXXIII. TRIALS OF THE POET AND THE SCHOLAR. GEO. S. HILLARD. In a highly civilized age, the poet finds himself per- plexed with contradictions which he cannot reconcile, and anomalies which he cannot comprehend. Coming out from the soft ideal world, in which he has dreamed away 5 his youth, he is constantly repelled by some iron reality. The aspect of life to him seems cold, hard and prosaic. It renews the legend of ffidipus and the Sphinx. With a face of stone, it propounds to him a riddle, which he must guess or be devoured. It is an age of frightful ex- 10 tremes of social condition ; of colossal wealth and heart- crushing poverty ; of courts and custom-houses ; of corn- laws and game-laws ; of man-traps and spring-guns. The smoke from the almshouse and the jail, blots the pure sky. The race of life is not to the swift, nor its bat- 15 tie to the strong. A sensitive conscience, a delicate taste, the gift of genius, and the ornament of learning, are rather obstacles, than helps, in the way of what is called success. Men are turned into petrifactions by the slow-dropping in- fluences of artificial life. The heroic virtues of the elder 20 age, have vanished with its free speech, and its simple man- ners. There seems to be no pulse of hearty life in any thing, whether it be good or bad. Virtue is timid, and vice is cunning. Love is cold and calculating, and hatred masks its dagger with a smile. 25 In this world of hollow forms and gilded seeming, thr: claims of the poet nre unheeded, and his voice unheard. 164 AMERICAN COMMOxN-SCHOOL [PART II. The gifts which he proffers, are unvalued by those who have forgotten the drenms of their youth, and wandered away from tlie primal light of their being. He looks around him; and the mournful fact presses itself upon his 5 conviction, that there is no cover laid for him at Nature's table. His very existence seems to him a mistake. And now begins that fiery struggle in which the temper of his genius is to be tried, and which moves the deepest springs of compassion and sympathy, in the hunuin heart. 10 Poetry has invented nothing more pathetic, history has recorded nothing more sad, than those mournful experi- ences which are so often the lot of the scholar and the man of genius. The dethronement of kings, and the beg- gary of nobles, are less affecting than the wrongs, the sor- 15 rows, the long-protracted trials, the forlorn conditions of great and gifted minds ; nobles, whose patents are of elder date than the pyramids, and kings by the anointment of God's own hand. What tragedies can be read, in the history of literature, 20 deeper than Macbeth, more moving than Lear,? Milton, old, poor, and blind, selling Paradise Lost for five pounds; Dryden beaten by ruffians at the prompting of a worthless peer, who, in Plato's commonwealth, would have been changing the poet's plate ; Tasso, a creature as delicately 25 moulded as if, like the Peris, he had fed upon nothing grosser than the breath of flowers, wearing out the best years of his life in the gloom of a dungeon ; Racine hur- ried to his grave by the rebuke of a heartless king ; Chat- terton, at midnight, homeless and hungry, bathing the 30 unpitying stones of London with the hot tears of anguish and despair ; Johnson, at the age of thirty-six, dining behind a screen at the house of Cave, because he was too shabbily dressed to appear at the table ; Burns taken from the plough, which he had " followed in glory and in joy 35 upon the mountain side," to gauge ale-firkins, and watch for contraband tobacco. LESSON LXXIV. THE YANKEES. — SAMUEL KETTEL. Vankee-land, or the New England portion of the United States, does not make a great figrure in the map of the American Republic ; yet the traveller who leaves it out of his route, can tell you but little of what the Americans are. PAHT II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 185 It is in New England that you find Jonathan at home. In the other states, there is a mixture, greater or less, of foreign population ; but in New England the population is homogeneous and native, — the emigrant does not settle 5 there, — the country is too full of people ; while the more fertile soil of the west holds out superior attractions to the stranger. It is no lubber-land ; there is no getting half-a- doUar a day for sleeping, in Massachusetts or Vermont ; the rocky soil and rough climate of this region, require 10 thrift and industry in the occupant. In the west, he may scratch the ground, throw in the seed, and leave the rest to nature ; but here his toil must never be remitted ; and as valor comes of sherris, so doth prosperitj'' come of industry. While the Yankees are themselves, they will hold their 15 own, let politics twist about as they will. They are like cats, throw them up as you please, they will come down upon their feet. Shut their industry out from one career, and it will force itself into another. Dry up twenty sources of their prosperity, and they will open twenty 20 more. They have a perseverance that will never languish, while any thing remains to be tried ; they have a resolu- tion that will try any thing, if need be ; and when a Yan- kee says " I '11 try," the thing is done. LESSON LXXV. — CUSTOM OF WHITEWASHING. FRANCIS HOPKINSON.^ My wish is to give you some accjfeunt of the people of these new State^; but I am far from being qu^ali^fied for the purpose, having as yet seen little mor^'than the cities of New Ybr'i and Philadelphia. I have discovered but 5 few natic^nal singukir|ties among them. Their customs and manr?ers are n^iriy the same with those of England, which they have long been used to ^opy. For, previous to the revolfition, the Americarf^were from their infftncy taught to look up to the English, as patterns of per^^ction 10 in all things. I have observed, however, one cti|(tom, which, for au^ht I know, is peci[liar to this country : an account of it will serve to fill up the rem:iinder of this sheet, and may afford you some amiMscment. ' When a young couple are about to enter the matrimo- * This piece has been incorrectly a.scribed to the pen of Dr. Frank- lin. Hopkinson possessed much of that ease and humor, which have rendered the wr'tiii;ar6 of the whole forces the corner of the table through ike cantass of the first. The frame and glass of a fine print are to be cleaned ; 2§ the spirit and oil used on this occasion, are sufTered to leak through, and spoil the engraving; no matter, — if the glass is clean, and the frame shine, it is sufficient ; the rest is not worthy of consideration. An able mathema tician has made an accurate calculation, founded on long 25 experience, and has discovered that the losses and de- struction incident to two whitewashings, are equal to one removal, and three removals equal to one fire. The cleaning frolic over, matters begin to resume their pristine appearance. The storm abates, and all would be 30 well again ; but it is impossible that so great a convulsion, in so small a community, should not produce some further effects. For two or three weeks after the operation, the family ,ai;e ;nsually afflicted with.sprp throats or sore eyes, occasidne'd by the caustic quality "df the'lime, or with se- 35 vere colds, from the exhalations of wet floors or damp walls. '. ■- i ■ ' LESSON LXXVII. SAME SUBJECT CONCLUDED. ID. I know a gentleman, who was fond of accounting for every thing in a philosophical way. He considers this, which I have called a custom, as a real periodical disease, peculiar to the climate. His train of reasoning is inge- nious and whimsical; but I am not at leisure to give you PABT II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 189 the detail. The resuh was, that he found the distemper to be incurable ; but, after much study, he conceived he had discovered a method to divert the evil he could not sub- due. For this purpose, he caused a small building, about 5 twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and fur- nished with some ordinary r:hairs and tables ; and a few prints, of the cheapest sort, were hung ag^'^st the walls. His hope was, that, when the whitewashing frenzy seized the females of his family, they might repair to this apai 10 ment, and scrub and smear and scour to their hearts' con- tent ; and so spend the violence of the disease in thi§ outpost, while he enjoyed himself in quiet at head-quar- ters. But the experiment did not answer his expectation : it was impossible it should, since a principal part of the 15 gratification consists in the lady's having an uncontrolled right to torment her husband, at least once a year, and to turn him out of doors, and take the reins of government into her own hands. There is a much better contrivance than this of the 20 philosopher, which is, to cover the Avails of the house with paper; this is generally done ; and, though it cannot abolish, it at least shortens, the period of female dominion. The paper is decorated with flowers of various fancies, and made so ornamental, that the women have admitted 25 the fashion ■"vitlrout perceiving the design. There is also another alleviation of the husband's dis- tress : he generally has the privilege of a small room or closet for his books and papers, the key of which he is allowed to keep. This is considered as a privileged place, 30 and stands like the land of Goshen amid the plagues of Egypt. But then he must be extremely cautious, and ever on his guard ; for should he inadvertently go' abroad, and leave the key in his door, the housemaid, who is al- ways on the watch for such an opportunity, immediately 35 enters in triumph, with buckets, brooms, and brushes ; takes possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all his books and papers to rights, — to his utter confusion, and some- times serious detriment. For instance : A gentleman was sued by the executors of a tradesman, 40 on a charge found against him in the deceased's books, to the amount of thirty pounds. The defendant was strongly impressed with the idea, that he had discharged the debt, and taken a receipt ; but, as the transaction was of long standing, he knew not where to find the receipt. 190 AMIiltlCAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. The suit went on in course, and the time approached, when judgment would be obtained against him. He then sat seriously down to examine a large bundle of old pa- pers, which he had untied, and displayed on a table, for 5 that purpose. In the midst of his search, he was sudden- ly called away on business rtf importance ; — he forgot to lock the door of liis room. Tiie housemaid, who had been lo»ig looking out for such an opportunity, immedi- ately entered with the usual implements, and, with great 10 alacrity, fell to cleaning the room, and putting things to rights. The first object that struck her eye was the con- fused situation of the papers on the table ; these were without delay bundled together, as so many dirty knives and forks ; but in the action, a small piece of paper fell 15 unnoticed on the floor, which happened to be the very re- ceipt in question ; as it had no very respectable appear- ance, it was soon after swept out with the common dirt of the room, and carried in the rubbish-pan into the yard. The tradesman had neglected to enter the credit in his 20 book ; the defendant could find nothing to obviate the charge, and so judgment went against him for the debt and costs. A fortnight after the whole was settled, and the money paid, one of the children found the receipt among the rubbish in the yard. ., 25 There is another custom, peculiar to the city of Phila- delphia, and nearly allied to the former. I mean, that of washing the pavement before the doors, every Saturday evening. I, at first, took this to be a regulation of the police ; but, on further inquiry, find it is a religious rite, 30 preparatory to the Sabbath ; and is, I believe, the only re- ligious rite, in which the numerous sectaries of this city perfectly agree. The ceremony begins about sunset, and continues till about ten or eleven at night. It is very dif- ficult for a stranger to walk the streets on those evenings ; 35 he runs a continual risk of having a bucket of dirty water thrown against his legs ; but a Philadelphian born is so much accustomed to the danger, that he avoids it with surprising dexterity. It is from this circumstance that a Philadelphian may be known anywhere by his gait. The 40 streets of New York are paved with rough stones ; these indeed are not washed ; but the dirt is so thoroughly swept from before the doors, that the stones stand up sharp am, prominent, to the great inconvenience of those who are not accustomed to so rough a path. But habit reconciles 1?ART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 191 every thing. It is diverting enougli to see a Philadel- phian at New York ; he walks the streets with as much painful caution as if his toes were covered with corns, or his feet lamed with the gout ; while a New Yorker, as 5 little approving the plain masonry of Philadelphia, shuf- fles along the pavement, like a parrot on a mahogany table. It must be acknowledged, that the ablutions I have mentioned, are attended with no small inconvenience ; but 10 the women would not be induced, on any consideration, to resign their privilege. Notwithstanding this, I can give you the strongest assurances that the women of America make the most faithful wives, and the most atten- tive mothers, in the world; and I am sure you will join 15 me in opinion, that, if a married man is made miserable only one v>'eek in a whole year, he will have no great cause to complain of the matrimonial bond. LESSON LXXVin. — THE FORCE OF CURIOSITY. CHARLES SPRAGUE. How swells my theme ! how vain my power I find, To track the Avindings of the curious mind ! Let aug^t be hid, though useless, nothing boots, Straightway it must be pluck'd up by the roots. 5 How oft we lay the volume down to ask Of him, the victim in the Iron Mask ; The crusted medal rub with painful care, To spell the legend out, — that is not there ; With dubious gaze o'er mossgrown tombstones bend 10 To find a name — the herald never penned ; Dig through the laya-deluged city's breast. Learn all we can, and wisely guess the rest : Ancient or modern, sacred or profane. All must be known, and all obscure made plain ; 15 If 't was a pippin templed Eve to sin, If glorious Byron drugged his muse with gin ; If Troy e'er stood, if Shakspeare stole a deer, If Israel's missing tribes found refuge here; If like a villain Captain Henry lied, 20 If like a martyr Captain Morgan died. Its aim oft idle, lovely in its end. We turn to look, ihcn linger to befriend ; 192 AMKUICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT IL The maid of Eg-ypi thus \yas led to save A iialion's fuliiri' leader from the wave ; Now things to hear when erst the Gentiles ran, Truth closed what Curiosity beafan. 5 How many a noble art, now widely known, Owes its yountr impulse to this power alone ; Even in its slightest working we may trace A deed that changed the fortunes of a race ; Bruce, banned and hunted on his native soil, 10 With curious eye surveyed a spider's toil ; Six times the little climber strove and failed ; Six times the chief before his foes had quailed; " Once more," he cried, " in thine my doom I read, Once more I dare the fight if thou succeed ;" 15 'T was done : the insect's fate he made his own : Once more the battle waged, and gained a throne. Behold the sick man in his easy chair ; Barred from the busy crowd and bracing air, How every passing trifle proves its power 20 To while away the long, dull, lazy hour ! As down the pane the rival rain-drops chase. Curious he '11 watch to see which wins the race ; And let two dogs beneath his window fight, He '11 shut his Bible to enjoy the sight. * 25 So with each newborn nothing rolls the day, Till some kind neighbor stumbling in his way. Draws up his chair, the sufferer to amuse, And makes him happy, while he tells — The News. The News ! our morning, noon, and evening cry ; 30 Day unto day repeats it till we die. For this the cit, the critic, and the fop. Dally the hour away in Tensor's shop ; For this the gossip takes her daily route, And wears your threshold and your patience out; ^5 For this we leave the parson in the lurch, And pause to prattle on the way to church ; Even when some coffined friend we gather round. We ask, " What news ? " — then lay him in the ground ; To this the breakfast owes its sweetest zest, 40 For this the dinner cools, the bed remains unpressed. '■*x PART II.] READER AND SPEAKER. 193 LESSON LXXIX. THE WINDS. W. C. BRYANT. Ye winds, ye unseen currents of the air, Softly ye plaj^ed a few brief hours ago ; Ye bore the murmuring bee ; ye tossed the hair O'er maiden cheelis, that took a fresher glow ; 5 Ye rolled the round white cloud through depths of blue ; Ye shook from shaded flowers the lingering dew ; Before you the catalpa's blossoms flew, Light blossoms, dropping on the grass like snow. How are ye changed ! Ye take the cataract's sound ; 10 Ye take the whirlpool's fury and its might; The mountain shudders as ye sweep the ground; The valley woods lie prone beneath your flight. The clouds before you shoot like eagles past; The homes of men are rocking in your blast ; 15 Ye lift the roofs like autumn leaves, and cast. Skyward, the whirling fragments out of sight. The weary fowls of heaven make wing in vain, To scape your wrath ; ye seize and dash them dead. Against the earth ye drive the roaring rain ; 20 The harvest field becomes a river's bed ; And torrents tumble from the hills around ; Plains turn to lakes, and villages are drowned ; And wailing voices, midst the tempest's sound, Rise, as the rushing waters swell and spread. 25 Ye dart upon the deep ; and straight is heard A wilder roar ; and men grow pale, and pray : Ye fling its floods around you, as a bird Flings o'er his shivering plumes the fountain's spray. See ! to the breaking mast the sailor clings ; 30 Ye scoop the ocean to its briny springs. And take the mountain billow on your wings. And pile the wreck of navies round the bay. Why rage ye thus ? — no strife for liberty Has made you mad ; no tyrant, strong through fear, 35 Has chained your pinions till ye wrenched them free, And rushed into the unmeasured atmosphere : For ye were born in freedom where ye blow ; Free o'er the mighty deep to come and go ; Earth's solemn woods were yours, her wastes of snow, 40 Her isles where summer blossoms all the year. 17 194 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PABT IL ye wild winds ! a mightier Power than yours In chains upon the shore of Europe lies ; The sceptred throng, whose fetters he endures, Watch his mute throws with terror in their eyes ; 5 And armed warriors all around him stand, And, as he struggles, tighten every band. And lift the heavy spear, with threatening hand, To pierce the victim, should he strive to rise. Yet oh ! when that wronged Spirit of our race, 10 Shall break, as soon he must, his long-worn chains And leap in freedom from his prison-place. Lord of his ancient hills and fruitful plains, Let him not rise, like these mad winds of air, To waste the loveliness that time could spare, "•S To fill the earth with woe, and blot her fair Unconscious breast with blood from human veins. But may he like the Spring-time come abroad, Who crumbles winter's gyves with gentle might, When in the genial breeze, the breath of God, 20 Come spouting up the unsealed springs to light ; Flowers start from their dark prisons at his feet. The woods, long dumb, awake to hymnings sweet. And morn and eve, whose glimmerings almost meet. Crowd back to narrow bounds the ancient night. LESSON LXXX. DAYBREAK. RICHARD H. DANA, SEN. "The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun rising : the name of the chamber was Peace j where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang." — The Pilgrim's Progress. Now, brighter than the host that all night long. In fiery armor, up the heavens high Stood watch, thou comest to wait the morning's song. Thou comest to tell me day again is nigh. 5 Star of the daAvning, cheerful is thine eye ; And yet in the broad day it must grow dim. Thou seem'st to look on me, as asking why My mourning eyes with silent tears do swim ; Thou bid'st me turn to God, and seek my rest in Him. 10 "Canst thou grow sad," thou say'st, "as earth grows bright ? And sigh, wlien little birds begin discourse PART n.] READER AND SPEAKER. 195 In quick, low voices, ere the streaming light Pours on their nests, as sprung from day's fresh source ! With creatures innocent thou must perforce A sharer be, if that thine heart be pure. 5 And holy hour like this, save sharp remorse, Of ills and pains of life must be the cure. And breathe in kindred calm, and teach thee to endure." I feel its calm. But there 's a sombrous hue Along that eastern cloud of deep, dull red ; 10 Nor glitters yet the cold and heavy devir ; And all the woods and hilltops stand outspread With dusky lights, which warmth nor comfort shed. Still, — save the bird that scarcely lifts its song, — The vast world seems the tomb of all the dead, — 15 The silent city emptied of its throng. And ended, all alike, grief, mirth, love, hate, and wrong. But wrong, and hate, and love, and grief, and mirth, Will quicken soon ; and hard, hot toil and strife. With headlong purpose, shake this sleeping earth 20 With discord strange, and all that man calls life. With thousand scattered beauties nature 's rife. And airs, and woods, and streams breathe harmonies ; Man weds not these, but taketh art to wife ; Nor binds his heart with soft and kindly ties : 25 He feverish, blinded, lives, and, feverish, sated, dies. And 't is because man useth so amiss Her dearest blessings, Nature seemeth sad ; Else why should she in such fresh hour as this Not lift the veil, in revelation glad, 30 From her fair face ? It is that man is mad ! -v: Then chide me not, clear star, that I repine When Nature grieves : nor deem this heart is bad. Thou look'st towards earth ; but yet the heavens are thine, While I to earth am bound : When will the heavens be mine ? 35 If man would but his finer nature learn. And not in life fantastic lose the sense Of simpler things ; could Nature's features stern Teach him be thoughtful ; then, with soul intense, I should not vearn for God to take me hence, 196 AMERICAN COMMON-SCHOOL [PART II. But bear my lot, albeit in spirit bowed, Reincmborin