REVISED
EDITION
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK: CINCINNATI CHICAGO
University of California Berkeley
PHILIP WHALEN COLLECTION
THE PETER AND ROSELL HARVEY
MEMORIAL FUND
ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES.
FIFTH
ECLECTIC READER.
REVISED EDITION.
NEW YORK : CINCINNATI : CHICAGO
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
Copyright, 1879, by VAN ANTWERP, BRAGG & Co.
Copyright, 1896, by AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.
Copyright, 1907 and 1920, by H. H. VAIL.
M'O. REV STM KG.
K.P. 199
PREFACE.
THE plan of the revision of M C GUFFEY'S FIFTH READER
is the same as that pursued in the other books of the
REVISED SERIES. The book has been considerably en-
larged, but the new pieces have been added or substituted
only aftei the most careful consideration, and where the
advantages to be derived were assured.
It has been the object to obtain as wide a range of lead-
ing authors as possible, to present the best specimens of
style, to insure interest in the subjects, to impart valuable
information, and to exert a decided and healthful moral in-
fluence. Thus the essential characteristics of M C GUFFEY'S
READERS have been carefully kept intact.
The preliminary exercises have been retained, and are
amply sufficient for drill in articulation, inflection, etc.
The additional exercises on these subjects, formerly inserted
between the lessons, have been omitted to make room for
other valuable features of the REVISED SERIES.
A full understanding of the text is necessary in order to
read it properly. As all the books of reference required
for this purpose are not within the reach of the majority
of pupils, full explanatory notes have been given, which,
it is believed, will add greatly not only to the interest
of the reading lessons, but also to their usefulness from
an instructive point of view.
(iii)
iv PREFACE.
The definitions of the more difficult words have been
given, as formerly ; and the pronunciation has been indi-
cated by diacritical marks, in conformity with the preced-
ing books of the REVISED SERIES.
Particular attention is invited to the notices of authors.
Comparatively few pupils have the opportunity of making
a separate study of English and American literature, and
the carefully prepared notices in the REVISED SERIES are
designed, therefore, to supply as much information in re-
gard to the leading authors as is possible in the necessarily
limited space assigned.
The publishers have desired to illustrate MCGUFFEY'S
READERS in a manner worthy of the text and of the high
favor in which they are held throughout the United States.
The most celebrated designers and engravers of the country
have been employed for this purpose.
It has been the privilege of the publishers to submit the
REVISED SERIES to numerous eminent educators in all
parts of the country. To the careful reviews and criti-
cisms of these gentlemen is due, in a large measure, the
present form of M C GUFFEY'S READERS. The value of
these criticisms, coming from practical sources of the high-
est authority, can not well be overestimated, and the pub-
lishers take this occasion to express their thanks and their
indebtedness to all who have thus kindly assisted them in
this work.
Especial acknowledgment is due to Messrs. Houghton,
Osgood & Co. for their permission to make liberal selec-
tions from their copyright editions of many of the foremost
American authors whose works they publish.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY MATTER.
SUBJECT. PAS*
I. PRELIMINARY REMARKS . .. . *- * . *
II. ARTICULATION . . . .-. . < . . . .-'*..
III. INFLECTIONS . . . . ---.-. . . 15
IV. ACCENT . . . . - , . ... . 26
V. EMPHASIS . . . . . * . . . 27
VI. MODULATION . . . . . . . ... 30
VTI. POETIC PAUSES ... * . . . , * . . 33
EXERCISES . . . . 34
SELECTIONS IN PROSE AND POETRY.
TITLE. AUTHOR. PAG
1. The Good Reader 39
2. The Bluebell . . . . 43
3. The Gentle Hand . ... . . T.S.Arthur. 44
4. The Grandfather . ... . C. G. Eastman. 49
5. A Boy on a Farm C. D. Warner. 60
6. The Singing Lesson . . . . Jean Ingelow. 52
7. Do not Meddle . ..... . . .54
8. Work . . . . . . . Eliza Cook. 59
9. The Maniac ... . . . . . .60
10. Robin Redbreast . . . . . W. Allingham. 62
11. The Fish I Did n't Catch Whittier. 63
12. It Snows Mrs. S. J. Hale. 67
13. Respect for the Sabbath Rewarded 69
14. The Sands b' Dee . . . . . Charles Kingsley. 71
15. Select Paragraphs . . ... . . . Bible. 72
16. The Corn Song . . . . . . . Whittier. 74
17. The Venomous Worm ... . John Russell. 77
18. The Festal Board . . . 78
19. How to Tell Bad News . 81
Yi CONTENTS.
TITLE. AUTHOR. PAOB
20. The Battle of Blenheim ...'... Southey. 82
21. I Pity Them 85
22. An Elegy on Madam Blaize .... Goldsmith. 87
23. King Charles II. and William Penn . Mason L. Weems. 88
24. What I Live For 91
25. The Righteous Never Forsaken 92
26. Ahou Ben Adhem Leigh Hunt. 95
27. Lucy Forrester John Wilson. 96
28. The Reaper and the Flowers .... Longfellow. 101
29. The Town Pump Hawthorne. 103
30. Good Night Peter Parley. 108
31. An Old-fashioned Girl .... Louisa M. Alcott. 110
32. My Mother's Hands 113
33. The Discontented Pendulum .... Jane Taylor. 114
34. The Death of the Flowers . Bryant. 117
36. The Thunderstorm Irving. 119
36. April Day Mrs. C. A. Southey. 121
37. The Tea Rose 123
38. The Cataract of Lodore Southey. 128
39. The Bobolink Irving. 132
40. Robert of Lincoln Bryant. 135
41. Rebellion in Massachusetts State Prison J. T. Buckingham. 138
42. Faithless Nelly Gray Hood. 143
43. The Generous Russian Peasant . . Nikolai Karamzin. 146
44. Forty Years Ago 148
45. Mrs. Caudle's Lecture .... Douglas Jerrold. 151
46. The Village Blacksmith Longfellow. 154
47. The Relief of Lucknow . . . . "London Times." 156
48. The Snowstorm Thomson. 159
49. Behind Time 161
60. The Old Sampler .... Mrs. M. E. Songster. 163
'51. The Goodness of God Bible. 167
'52. My Mother 170
63. The Hour of Prayer . . . Mrs. F. D. Hemans. 171
54. The Will 172
65. The Nose and the Eyes Cowper. 176
56. An Iceberg L. L. Noble 177
67. About Quail W. P. Hawe&. 180
58. The Blue and the Gray F. M. Finch. 183
69. The Machinist's Return . . Washington "Capital." 186
60. Make Way for Liberty . . . James Montgomery. 189
61. The English Skylark Elihu Burritt. 193
62. How Sleep the Brave .... William Collins. 195
63. The Rainbow John Keble. 196
CONTENTS. Vll
TITLB. AUTHOR. PAO*
64. Supposed Speech of John Adams . Daniel Webster, 196
65. The Rising T. B. Read. 200
66. Control your Temper .... Dr. John Todd. 204
67. William Tell Sheridan Knowles. 207
68. William Tell Sheridan Knowles. 216
69. The Crazy Engineer 221
70. The Heritage Lowell. 228
71. No Excellence without Labor . . . William Wirt. 230
72. The Old House Clock 232
73. The Examination D.P.Thompson. 234
74. The Isle of Long Ago B. F. Taylor. 239
75. The Boston Massacre Bancroft. 241
76. Death of the Beautiful .... Mrs. E. L. Follen. 245
77. Snow Falling J. J. Piatt. 246
78. Squeers's Method Dickens. 247
79. The Gift of Empty Hands . . Mrs. S. M. B. Piatt, 252
80. Capturing the Wild Horse Irving. 253
81. Sowing and Reaping . . . Adelaide Anne Procter. 258
82. Taking Comfort Whittier. 259
83. Calling the Roll Shepherd. 262
84. Turtle Soup C. F. Briggs. 263
85. The Best Kind of Revenge 266
86. The Soldier of the Rhine . . Mrs. C. E. S. Norton. 269
87. The Winged Worshipers . . . Charles Sprague. 271
88. The Peevish Wife .... Maria Edgeworth. 273
89. The Rainy Day Longfellow. 276
90. Break, Break, Break Tennyson. 277
91. Transportation and Planting of Seeds . H. D. Thoreau. 278
92. Spring Again Mrs. Celia Thaxter. 282
93. Religion the only Basis of Society William E. Channing. 284
94. Rock Me to Sleep .... Mrs. E. A. Allen. 286
95. Man and the Inferior Animals . . . Jane Taylor. 288
96. The Blind Men and the Elephant . . J. G. Saxe. 290
97. A Home Scene D. G. Mitchell. 292
98. The Light of Other Days Moore. 295
99. A Chase in the English Channel .... Cooper. 296
100. Burial of Sir John Moore . . . Charles Wolfe. 301
101. Little Victories Harriet Martineau. 302
102. The Character of a Happy Life . . Sir Henry Wotton. 308
103. The Art of Discouragement .... Arthur Helps. 309
104. The Mariner's Dream .... William Dimond. 312
105. The Passenger Pigeon Audubon. 315
106. The Country Life . . . . R. H. Stoddard. 319
107. The Virginians Thackeray 321
Viii CONTENTS.
TITLE. ATTTHOR. PAQB
108. Minot's Ledge . . . . Fitz-James O'Brien. 326
109. Hamlet . . . . . . - . . Shakespeare. 328
110. Dissertation on Roast Pig . . . . Charles Lamb. 333
111. A Pen Picture . . . . . William Black. 338
112. The Great Voices C. T. Brooks. 342
113. A Picture of Human Life . . . Samuel Johnson. 343
114. A Summer Longing .... George Arnold. 348
115. Fate Bret Harte. 349
116. The Bible the Best of Classics . . . T. S. Grimke". 350
117. My Mother's Bible G. P. Morris. 351
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
SUBJECT. ABTIST. PAOB
The Good Reader H. F. Farny. 39
The Fish I Did n't Catch H. F. Farny. 65
The Corn Song E. K. Foote. 76
I Pity Them W. L. Sheppard. 86
The Town Pump . Howard Pyle. 105
Good Night J. A. Knapp. 109
The Tea Rose ...... C. S. Reinhart. 124
Forty Years Ago H. Fenn. 149
The Old Sampler . . . ..... Mary Hallock Foote. 165
The Old Sampler Mary Hallock Foote. 166
About Quail. . . . .. . Alexander Pope. 181
The Crazy Engineer H. F. Farny. 222
Squeers's Method . * . '. . . . Howard Pyle. 249
Turtle Soup . -. . . . .' . W. L. Sheppard. 264
Hamlet . . Alfred Fredericks. 330
INTRODUCTION.
I. PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
THE great object to be accomplished in reading, as a
rhetorical exercise, is to convey to the hearer, fully and
clearly, the ideas and feelings of the writer.
In order to do this, it is necessary that a selection should be carefully
studied by the pupil before he attempts to read it. In accordance with
this view, a preliminary rule of importance is the following :
RULE I. Before attempting to read a lesson, the learner
should make himself fully acquainted with the subject as
treated of in that lesson, and endeavor to make the thought
and feeling and sentiments of the writer his own.
REMARK. When he has thus identified himself with the author, he
has the substance of all rules in his own mind. It is by going to nature
that we find rules. The child or the savage orator never mistakes in
inflection or emphasis or modulation. The best speakers and readers
are those who follow the impulse of nature, or most closely imitate it as
observed in others.
II. ARTICULATION.
Articulation is the utterance of the elementary sounds of a
language, and of their combinations.
An Elementary Sound is a simple, distinct sound made by
the organs of speech.
The Elementary Sounds of the English language are
divided into Foco/s, Subvocals, and Aspirates.
10 ECLECTIC SERIES.
ELEMENTARY SOUNDS.
VOCALS.
Vocals are sounds which consist of pure tone only. A
diphthong is a union of two vocals, commencing with one
and ending with the other.
DIRECTION. Put the lips, teeth, tongue, and palate in
their proper position ; pronounce the word in the chart for-
cibly, and with the falling inflection, several times in succes-
sion; then drop the sub vocal or aspirate sounds which pre-
cede or follow the vocal, and repeat the vocals alone.
TABLE OF VOCALS.
Long Vocals.
as in hate.
5, as
5 in err.
" hare.
J,
" pine.
** far.
6,
" no.
" pass.
u,
" tube.
" fall.
u,
" burn.
" eve.
00,
" eool.
e,
a, as in mat.
8, " met.
I, " It.
Short Vocals.
6, as in hot.
u, us.
06, " book.
Diphthongs.
oi, oy, as in oil, boy. | ou, ow, as in out, now.
REMARK 1. In this table, the short sounds, except G, are nearly or
quite the same in quality as certain of the long sounds. The difference
consists chiefly in quantity.
REMARK 2. The vocals are often represented by other letters or com-
binations of letters than those used in the table ; for instance, a is rep-
resented by ai in hail, by ea in steak, etc.
REMARK 3. As a general rule, the long vocals and the diphthongs
should be articulated with a full, clear utterance ; but the short vocals
have a sharp, distinct, and almost explosive utterance.
FIFTH READER.
11
SUBVOCALS AND ASPIRATES.
Subvocals are those sounds in which the vocalized breath
is more or less obstructed.
Aspirates consist of breath only, modified by the vocal
organs.
Words ending with subvocal sounds should be selected for practice on
the subvocals ; words beginning or ending with aspirate sounds may be
used for practice on the aspirates. Pronounce these words forcibly and
distinctly several times in succession ; then drop the other sounds, and
repeat the subvocals and aspirates alone. Let the class repeat the words
and elements at first in concert, then separately.
TABLE OF SUBVOCALS AND ASPIRATES.
Svbvocals.
b, as in babe.
d, " bad.
g, " nag-
j, judge.
v, " move.
a, " with.
z, " buzz.
z, azure (azh'ure).
REMARK. These sixteen sounds make eight pairs of cognates. In ar-
ticulating the aspirates, the vocal organs are put in the position required
in the articulation of the corresponding subvocals ; but the breath is ex-
pelled with some force without the utterance of any vocal sound. The
oupil should first verify this by experiment, and then practice on these
cognates.
The following subvocals and aspirates have no cognates.
Aspirates.
p,
as in r^p.
t,
" at.
k,
" book.
ch,
" rich.
f,
" life.
th,
" Smith.
s,
" hiss.
sh,
" rush.
1, as in mill.
m, " rim.
n, " run.
ng, " sing.
SUBVOCALS.
r, as in rule,
r, " car.
w, *' win.
y, " yet
ASPIRATES.
h, as in hat.
rh, as in whSn.
12
ECLECTIC SERIES.
SUBSTITUTES.
Substitutes are characters used to represent sounds ordi-
narily represented by other characters.
TABLE OF SUBSTITUTES.
a for
6,
as in what.
y
for
I,
as
in hymn.
"
a,
" there.
5
it
s,
" u
5ite.
e "
a,
" freight.
u
k,
u
cap.
i "
e,
" police.
9 h
it
sh,
(t
machine.
I "
e,
sir.
h
it
k,
u
haos.
6 "
u,
" son.
g
((
1.
(t
age.
o "
66,
" to.
n
(t
ng,
u
rink.
"
66,
" would.
II
z,
u
roge.
"
a,
" drn.
s
"
sh,
1 1
sure.
"
u,
44 wOrk.
$
II
gz,
(t
ejamlne.
u
65,
pull.
gh
11
f,
t(
laugh.
W "
66,
' rude.
ph
it
f,
u
sylph.
V *'
i,
my.
qu
it
k,
( t
pique.
qu for kw, as in quick.
FAULTS TO BE REMEDIED.
DIRECTION. Give to each sound, to each syllable, and to
each word its full, distinct, and appropriate utterance.
For the purpose of avoiding the more common errors under this head,
observe the following rules :
RULE II. Avoid the omission of unaccented vowels.
EXAMPLES.
INCORRECT. CORRECT.
Sep'rate for sep-a-rate.
met-ric'l " met-ric-al.
'pear " ap-pear.
com-p'tent " com-pe-tent.
pr'cede ** pre-cede.
'ape-cial * es-pe-cial.
INCORRECT. CORRECT.
Ev'dent for ev-i-dent.
** mem-o-ry.
" o-pin-ion.
" pro-pose.
" gran-'M-lar.
mem'ry
'pin -ion
pr'pose
gran'lar
par-tic' lar ** par-tic- w-lar.
FIFTH READER.
13
KULE III. Avoid sounding incorrectly the unaccented
vowels.
EXAMPLES.
INCORRECT. CORRECT.
Sep-er-ate for sep-a-rate.
met-ric-wl " met-ric-al.
wp-pear " op-pear,
com-per-tent " com-pe-tent.
dum-mand " de-mand.
ob-stur-nate " ob-sti-nate.
INCORRECT.
Mem-er-ry
wp-pin-ion
prwp-ose
gran-ny-lar
par-tic-e-lar
ev-er-dent
for mem-o-ry.
" o-pin-ion.
" pro-pose.
" gran-u-lar.
" par-tic-u-lar.
" ev-i-dent.
REMARK 1. In correcting errors of this kind in words of more than
one syllable, it is very important to avoid a fault which is the natural
consequence of an effort to articulate correctly. Thus, in endeavoring to
sound correctly the a in met'ric-al, the pupil is very apt to say met-ric-al' ',
accenting the last syllable instead of the first.
REMARK 2. The teacher should bear it in mind that in correcting a
fault there is always danger of erring in the opposite extreme. Properly
speaking, there is no danger of learning to articulate too distinctly, but
there is danger of making the obscure sounds too prominent, and of read-
ing in a slow, measured, and unnatural manner.
KULE IV. Utter distinctly the terminating subvocals
and aspirates.
EXAMPLES.
INCORRECT. CORRECT.
An* for and.
ban* " band,
moun' " mound,
mor-nin' " morn-in^.
des' " desk.
INCORRECT. CORRECT.
Mos' for mosque.
near-es'
wep'
ob-jec'
sub-jec'
" near-es*.
" wep*.
" ob-jec*.
" sub-jecf.
REMARK 1. This omission is still more likely to occur when several
consonants come together.
EXAMPLES.
INCORRECT. CORRECT.
Thrus' for thruste.
beace " beaste.
thinks' " thinks*,
weps' "
INCORRECT. CORRECT.
Harms' for harm's*,
wrongs' " wrong's*,
twinkles' " twinkl'ds*.
black'ns " black'n'ds*.
14 ECLECTIC SERIES.
REMARK 2. In all cases of this kind these sounds are omitted, in the
first instance, merely because they are difficult, and require care and
attention for their utterance, although after a while it becomes a habit.
The only remedy is to devote that care and attention which may be neces-
sary. There is no other difficulty, unless there should be a defect in the
organs of speech, which is not often the case.
RULE Y. Avoid blending syllables which belong to dif-
ferent words.
EXAMPLES.
He ga-zdupon. He gazed upon.
Here res tsis sed. Here rests his head.
Whatris sis sname ? What is fas name ?
For ranninsantush. For an instant Aush.
Ther ris sa calm. There is a calm.
For tho s^a tweep. For those that weep.
God sglorou simage. God's glorious image.
EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION.
This exercise and similar ones will afford valuable aid in training the
organs to a distinct articulation.
Every vice fights against nature.
Folly is never pleased with tVself .
Pride, not nature, craves mucft.
The little tattler tittered at the tempest.
Titus takes the petulant outcasts.
The covetous partner is destitute of fortune.
No one of you knows where the sAoe pinches.
What can not be cured must be endured.
You can not catch old birds with c^aff.
Never sport with the opinions of others.
The lightnings flashed, the Sunders roared.
His hand in mine was fondly clasped.
They cuftivated shrubs and plants.
He selected his texts with great care.
His lips grow res^ess, and his smile is curZec? Aalf into scorn.
Wisdom's ways are ways of joteasan/ness.
FIFTH READER. 15
O breeze, that waitst me on my way!
jTAou boat's* of what should be thy sAame.
Li/e's fitful fever over, he rests well.
Cam* /Aou fill his skin with bar&et/ irons?
From star to star the living Kghtoin<7sy?asA.
And glittering crowns of j?ros*rate seraphim.
TAat morning, thou that slumber'd'st not before.
Habitual evils chancre not on a sudden.
Thou waft'd'st the rickety skiffs over the cliffs.
Thou reef'cTs* the haggled, shipwrecked sails.
The hones* shepherd's catarrh.
The heiress in her disAabi/Ze is humorous.
The &rave chevalier behayes like a conservative.
The luscious notion of champagne and precious sngal
III. INFLECTIONS.
Inflections are slides of the voice upward or downward.
Of these, there are two : the rising inflection and the fatting
inflection.
The Rising Inflection is that in which the voice slides
upward, and is marked thus ('); as,
Did you walk 7 ? Did you **^
The Falling Inflection is that in which the voice slides
downward, and is marked thus ( x )j as,
I did not walk v . I did not
Both inflections are exhibited in the following question:
Did you walk 7 or ride^V **& or
16 ECLECTIC SERIES.
In the following examples, the first member has the rising and the
second member the falling inflection:
EXAMPLES.*
Is he sick/, or is he well N ?
Did you say valor', or value v ?
Did you say statute', or statue v ?
Did he act properly 7 , or improperly v ?
In the following examples, the inflections are used in a contrary
order, the first member terminating with the falling and the second
with the rising inflection:
EXAMPLES.
He is well\ not sick'.
I said value\ not valor 7 .
I said statue\ not statute'.
He acted properly^, not improperly'.
FALLING INFLECTIONS.
RULE VI. The falling inflection is generally proper
wherever the sense is complete.
EXAMPLES.
Truth is more wonderful than fictionV
Men generally die as they live\
By industry we obtain wealth\
REMARK. Parti* of a sentence often make complete sense in them-
selves, and in this case, unless qualified or restrained by the succeeding
clause, or unless the contrary is indicated by some other principle, the
falling inflection takes place according to the rule.
* These questions and similar ones, with their answers, should be repeatedly
pronounced with their proper inflections, until the distinction between the rising
and falling inflection is well understood and easily made by the learner. He will
b assisted in this by emphasizing strongly the word, which receives the inflection;
thus, Did you BIDE/ or did you WALKS f
FIFTH READER. 17
EXAMPLES.
Truth is wonderful^, even more so than fiction*.
Men generally die as they live\ and by their, actions we must
judge of their character^.
Exception. When a sentence concludes with a negative clause, or with
a contrast or comparison (called also antithesis), the first member of
which requires the falling inflection, it must close with the rising inflec-
tion, (See Kule XI, and 2, Note.)
EXAMPLES.
No one desires to be thought a fool'.
I come to bury N Caesar, not to praise' him.
He lives in England\ not in France 7 .
REMARK. In bearing testimony to the general character of a man
we say:
He is too honorable* to be guilty of a vile^ act.
But if he is accused of some act of baseness, a contrast is at once insti-
tuted between his character and the specified act, and we change the in-
flections, and say :
He is too honorable' to be guilty of such 7 an act.
A man may say in general terms:
I am too busy 7 for projects*.
But if he is urged to embark in some particular enterprise, he will
change the inflections, and say:
1 am too btisy^ for projects'.
In such cases, as the falling inflection is required in the former part by
the principle of contrast and emphasis (as will hereafter be more fully
explained), the sentence necessarily closes with the rising inflection.
Sometimes, also, emphasis alone seems to require the rising inflection
on the concluding word. See exception to Rule VII.
(S.-2.)
18 ECLECTIC SERIES.
STRONG EMPHASIS.
RULE VII. Language which demands strong emphasis
generally requires the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
1. Command or urgent entreaty ; as,
Begone\
Run x to your houses, fali v upon your knees,
Pray v to the Gods to intermit the plagues.
O, save v me, Hubert^, save v me I My eyes are out
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
2. Exclamation, especially when indicating strong emo-
tion; as,
O, ye GodsM ye GodsM must I endure all this?
Hark v ! Hark x I the horrid sound
Hath raised up his head.
For interrogatory exclamation, see Rule X, Remark.
SERIES OF WORDS OR MEMBERS.
3. A series of words or members, whether in the begin-
ning or middle of a sentence, if it does not conclude the
sentence, is called a commencing series, and usually requires
the rising inflection when not emphatic.
EXAMPLES OF COMMENCING SERIES.
Wine', beauty', music 7 , pomp', are poor expedients to heave
off the load of an hour from the heir of eternity\
FIFTH READER. 19
I conjure you by that which you profess,
(Howe'er you came to know it,) answer me;
Though you untie the winds and let them fight
Against the churches 7 ; though the yeasty waves
Confound and swallow navigation' up;
Though bladed corn be lodged, and trees blown down'}
Though castles topple on their warders' heads / ;
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations 7 ; though the treasures
Of nature's germens tumble altogether 7 ,
Even till destruction sicken 7 ; answer me
To what I ask x you.
4. A series of words or members which concludes a
sentence is called a concluding series, and each member usu-
ally has the falling inflection.
EXAMPLE OF CONCLUDING SERIES.
They, through faith, subdued kingdoms\ wrought righteous-
\ obtained promises\ stopped the mouths of lions\ quenched
the violence of fire\ escaped the edge of the sword x , out of
weakness were made strong\ waxed valiant in fight\ turned to
flight the armies of the aliens^.
REMARK. When the emphasis on these words or mem-
bers is not marked, they take the rising inflection, accord-,
ing to Kule IX.
EXAMPLES.
They are the offspring of restlessness 7 , vanity 7 , and idleness^.
Love 7 , hope 7 , and joy 7 took possession of his breast.
5. When words which naturally take the rising inflec-
tion become emphatic by repetition or any other cause, they
often take the falling inflection.
20 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Exception to the Rule. While the tendency of emphasis is decidedly
to the use of the falling inflection, sometimes a word to which the falling
inflection naturally belongs changes this, when it is emphatic, for the
rising inflection.
EXAMPLES.
Three thousand ducats x : 't is a good round sum 7 .
It is useless to point out the beauties of nature to one who
is Mind'.
Here sum and blind, according to Rule VI, would take the falling inflec-
tion, hut as they are emphatic, and the object of emphasis is to draw
attention to the word emphasized, this is here accomplished in part by
giving an unusual inflection. Some speakers would give these words the
circumflex, but it would be the rising circumflex, so that the sound
would still terminate with the rising inflection.
RULE VIII. Questions which can not be answered by
yes or no, together with their answers, generally require the
falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
Where has he gone v ? Ans. To New York\
What has he done v ? Ans. Nothing v .
Who did this^? Ans. I know not\
When did he go x ? Ans. Yesterday^
REMARK. If these questions are repeated, the inflection is changed
according to the principle stated under the Exception to Rule VII.
Where did you say he had gone'?
What has he done'?
Who did this'?
When did he go'?
RISING INFLECTION.
BULE IX. Where a pause is rendered proper by the
meaning, and the sense is incomplete, the rising inflection.
is generally required.
FIFTH READER. 21
EXAMPLES.
To endure slander and abuse with meekness 7 requires no or-
dinary degree of self-command\
Night coming on', both armies retired from the field of
battle\
As a dog returaeth to his vomit 7 , so a fool returneth to his
folly\
REMARK. The person or object addressed, in ordinary conversation,
under this head.
EXAMPLES.
Fathers 7 ! we once again are met in council.
My lords 7 ! and gentlemen 7 ! we have arrived at an awful
crisis.
Age 7 ! thou art shamed.
Rome 7 ! thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
Exception. Where a word which, according to this rule, requires the
rising inflection, becomes emphatic, it generally has the falling inflec-
tion ; as, when a child addresses his father, he first says, Father' ! but if
he repeats it emphatically, he changes the inflection, and says, Father I
Father 1 ^ ! The falling inflection is also used in formal address ; as, Fellow-
citizens x , Mr, President, etc.
EXAMPLES.
When we aim at a high standard, if we do not attaint it, we
shall secure a high degree of excellence.
Those who mingle with the vicious, if they do not become de-
praved^, will lose all delicacy of feeling.
EULE X. Questions which may be answered by yes or
?io, generally require the rising, and their answers the
falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
Has he arrived 7 ? Yes\
Will he return 7 ? No\
Does the law condemn him 7 ? It does not\
22 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Exception. If these questions are repeated emphatically, they take the
falling inflection, according to Rule VII.
EXAMPLES.
Has he arrived v ?
Will he return^?
Does the law condemn him v ?
REMARK. When a word or sentence is repeated as a kind of interroga-
tory exclamation, the rising inflection is used according to the princi-
ples of this rule.
EXAMPLES.
You ask, who would venture^ in such a cause ! Who would
venture'? Rather say, who would not x venture all things for
such an object!
He is called the friend v of virtue. The friend' ! ay ! the en-
thusiastic lover\ the devoted protector\ rather.
So, also, when one receives unexpected information he exclaims, Ah' I
indeed'!
REMARK. In the above examples the words "venture," "friend,"
"ah," etc., may be considered as interrogatory exclamations, because if
the sense were carried out it would be in the form of question ; as, " Do
you ask who would venture'?" "Do you say that he is the friend' of
virtue?" "Is it possible 7 ?" and thus they would receive the rising in-
flection according to this rule.
RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS.
RULE XI. The different members of a sentence express-
ing comparison, or contrast, or negation and affirmation, or
where the parts are united by or used disjunctively, require
different inflections; generally the rising inflection in the
first member, and the falling inflection in the second mem-
ber. This order is, however, sometimes inverted.
1. Comparison and contrast. This is also called antithesis.
JflFTH READER.
EXAMPLES.
In all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God; by
honor 7 , and dishonor^ ; by evil 7 report, and good x report ; as de-
ceivers 7 , and yet true x ; as unknown 7 , and yet well N known; as
dying 7 , and behold we live x ; as chastened 7 , and not killed v ; as
sorrowful 7 , yet always rejoicing x ; as poor 7 , yet making many
rich x ; as having nothing 7 , yet possessing all x things.
Europe was one great battlefield, where the weak struggled
for freedom 7 , and the strong for dominion^ The king was
without power 7 , and the nobles without principled They were
tyrants at home 7 , and robbers abroad v .
2. Negation and affirmation.
EXAMPLES.
He desired not to injure 7 his friend, but to protect^ him.
We desire not your money 7 , but yourselves^.
I did not say a better 7 soldier, but an elder v .
If the affirmative clause comes first, the order of the inflections is
inverted.
EXAMPLES.
He desired to protect^ his friend, not to injure 7 him.
We desire yourselves^ not your money 7 .
I said an elder x soldier, not a better 7 .
The affirmative clause is sometimes understood.
We desire not your money 7 .
I di not say a better 7 soldier.
The region beyond the grave is not a solitary 7 land.
In most negative sentences standing alone, the corresponding affirma-
tive is understood ; hence the following
REMARK. Negative sentences, whether alone or connected with an
affirmative clause, generally end with the rising inflection.
ECLECTIC SERIES.
If such sentences are repeated emphatically, they take the falling in-
flection according to Rule VI. :
EXAMPLES.
We do noP desire your money.
I did nof x say a better soldier.
f 3. Or used disjunctively.
Did he behave properly 7 , or improperly v ?
Are they living 7 , or dead v ?
Is he rich 7 , or poor v ?
Does (rod, having made his creatures, take no further 7 care
of them, or does he preserve and guide them v ?
REMARK. Where or is used conjunctively, this rule does not apply ; as,
Will the law of kindness 7 or of justice 7 justify such conduct 7 ?
CIRCUMFLEX.
The circumflex is a union of the rising and falling in-
flections. Properly speaking, there are two of these, the
one called the rising circumflex, in which the voice slides
down and then up; and the other, the falling circumflex,
in which the voice slides upward and then downward on
the same vowel. They may both be denoted by the same
mark, thus, (-*). The circumflex is used chiefly to indi-
cate the emphasis of irony, of contrast, or of hypothesis.
EXAMPLES.
1. Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended.
Hamlet. Madam, y6u have my father much offended.
2. They offer us their protection. Yes\ such protection as
vtiltures give to lambs, cdvering and devouring them.
FIFTH READER. 25
3. I knew when seven justices could not make up a quarrel?
but when the parties met themselves, one of them thought but
of an if; as, If you said s6, then I said so ; O ho ! did you say
so? So they shook hands and were sworn brothers.
REMARKS. In the first example, the emphasis is that of contrast. The
queen had poisoned her husband, of which she incorrectly supposed her
son ignorant, and she blames him for treating his father-in-law with dis-
respect. In his reply, Hamlet contrasts her deep crime with his own
slight offense, and the circumflex upon " you " becomes proper.
In the second example the emphasis is ironical. The Spaniards pre-
tended that they would protect the Peruvians if they would submit to
them, whereas it was evident that they merely desired to plunder and
destroy them. Thus their protection is ironically called " such protection
as vultures give to lambs," etc.
In the third example, the word " so " is used hypothetical^ ; that is, it
implies a condition or supposition. It will be observed that the rising
circumflex is used in the first " so," and the falling, in the second, be-
cause the first " so " must end with the rising inflection and the second
with the falling inflection, according to previous rules.
MONOTONE.
When no word in a sentence receives an inflection, it
is said to be read in a monotone; that is, in nearly the
same tone throughout. This uniformity of tone is occa-
sionally adopted, and is fitted to express solemnity or
sublimity of idea, and sometimes intensity of feeling. It
is used, also, when the whole sentence or phrase is em-
phatic. In books of elocution, when it is marked at all,
it is generally marked thus ( ), as in the lines follow-
ing.
EXAMPLES.
Hence ! loathed melancholy !
Where brooding darkness spreads her jealous wings,
And the night raven sings;
There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,
As ragged as thy locks,
In deep Cimmerian darkness ever dwelL"
26 ECLECTIC SERIES.
IV, ACCENT.
In every word which contains more than one syllable,
one of the syllables is pronounced with a somewhat
greater stress of voice than the others. This syllable is
said to be accented. The accented syllable is distinguished
by this mark Q, the same which is used in inflections.
EXAMPLES.
Love'ly, re-turn', re-mem'ber,
Con'stant, re-main', a-sun'der,
Mem'ber, a-bide', a-ban'don,
Win'dow, a-tone', rec-ol-lect',
Ban'ner, a-lone', re-em-bark'.
REMARK. In most cases custom is the only guide for placing the accent
on one syllable rather than another. Sometimes, however, the same
word is differently accented in order to mark its different meanings.
EXAMPLES.
Con'jure, to practice enchantments. Con-jure', to entreat.
Gal'lant, brave. Gal-lanf, a gay fellow.
Au f gust, a month. Au-gust', grand.
REMARK. A number of words used sometimes as one part of speech,
and sometimes as another, vary their accents irregularly.
EXAMPLES.
Pres'ent. the noun. I ^ ,
,. ,. Pre-sent', the verb.
Pres'ent, the adjective. |
,, I Corn-pact', the adjective.
CWpact, the noun. _, * /
| Corn-pact, the verb.
In words of more than two syllables there is often a second accent
given, but more slight than the principal one, and this is called the sec-
ondary accent ; as, car'a-vari", rep // ar-<ee / , where the principal accent is
marked ( f ) and the secondary (") ; so, also, tnis accent is obvious in nav // -
i-grc'tion, com // pre-/iett / sion, p/<m // si-6z/ / i-y, etc. The whole subject,
however, properly belongs to dictionaries and spelling books.
FIFTH READER. 27
V. EMPHASIS.
A word is said to be emphasized when it is uttered with
a greater stress of voice than the other words with which it
is connected.
REMARK 1. The object of emphasis is to attract particular attention
to the word upon which it is placed, indicating that the idea to be con-
veyed depends very much upon that word. This object, as just stated, is
generally accomplished by increasing the force of utterance, but some-
times, also, by a change in the inflection, by the use of the monotone, by
pause, or by uttering the words in a very low key. Emphatic words are
often denoted by italics, and a still stronger emphasis by SMALL CAPITALS
or CAPITALS, according to the degree of emphasis desired.
REMARK 2. Emphasis constitutes the most important feature in read-
ing and speaking, and, properly applied, gives life and character to lan-
guage. Accent, inflection, and indeed everything yields to emphasis.
REMARK 3. In the following examples it will be seen that accent is
governed by it.
EXAMPLES.
What is done cannot be undone.
There is a difference between giving and forgiving.
He that descended is the same that ascended.
Some appear to make very little difference between decency
and indecency, morality and immorality, religion and {/religion.
REMARK 4. There is no better illustration of the nature and impor-
tance of emphasis than the following examples. It will be observed that
the meaning and proper answer of the question vary with each change of
the emphasis.
EXAMPLES.
QTTE8TION8. ANSWER}.
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, my brother went.
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I rode.
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I went into the
country.
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I went the day
before.
28 ECLECTIC SERIES.
ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS.
Sometimes a word is emphasized simply to indicate the
importance of the idea. This is called absolute emphasis.
EXAMPLES.
To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek I
Woe unto you, PHARISEES! HYPOCRITES!
Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away.
REMARK. In instances like the last, it is sometimes called the emphasis
of specification.
RELATIVE EMPHASIS.
Words are often emphasized in order to exhibit the idea
they express as compared or contrasted with some other
idea. This is called relative emphasis.
EXAMPLES.
A friend can not be known in prosperity; an enemy can not be
hidden in adversity.
It is much better to be injured than to injure.
REMARK. In many instances one part only of the antithesis is ex-
pressed, the corresponding idea being understood ; as,
A friendly eye would never see such faults.
Here the unfriendly eye is understood.
King Henry exclaims, while vainly endeavoring to compose
himself to rest,
"How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep!"
Here the emphatic words thousand, subjects, and asleep are
contrasted in idea with their opposites, and if the contrasted
ideas were expressed it might be in this way:
While I alone, their sovereign, am doomed to wakefulness.
FIFTH READER. 29
EMPHATIC PHRASE.
Sometimes several words in succession are emphasized,
forming what is called an emphatic phrase.
EXAMPLES.
Shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul, and not only of the
Alpine nations but of the Alps themselves shall I compare my-
self With this HALF YEAR CAPTAIN ?
Shall we try argument ? Sir, we have been trying that for the
LAST TEN YEARS.
And if thou said'st I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus THOU HAST LIED I
EMPHATIC PAUSE.
The emphatic expression of a sentence often requires a
pause where the grammatical construction authorizes none.
This is sometimes called the rhetorical pause. Such pauses
occur chiefly before or after an emphatic word or phrase,
and sometimes both before and after it.
EXAMPLES.
Rise fellow-men! our country yet remains!
By that dread name we wave the sword on high,
And swear for hei to live with her to die.
But most by numbers judge the poet's song:
And smooth or rough, with them is right or wrong.
He said; then full before their sight
Produced the beast, and lo! 'twas white.
ECLECTIC SERIES.
VI. MODULATION.
Modulation includes the variations of the voice. These
may be classed under the heads of Pitch, Compass, Quan-
tity, and Quality.
PITCH AND COMPASS.
If anyone will notice closely a sentence as uttered in private
conversation, he will observe that very few successive -words are
pronounced in exactly the same key or with the same force. At
the same time, however, there is a certain PITCH or key, which
seems, on the whole, to prevail.
This keynote, or governing note, as it may be called, is that upon
which the voice most frequently dwells, to which it usually returns
when wearied, and upon which a sentence generally commences,
and very frequently ends, while, at the same time, there is a con-
siderable play of the voice above and below it.
This key may be high or low. It varies in different individuals,
and at different times in the same individual, being governed by
the nature of the subject and the emotions of the speaker. It is
worthy of notice, however, that most speakers pitch their voices
on a key too high.
The range of the voice above and below this note is called its
COMPASS. When the speaker is animated, this range is great;
but upon abstract subjects, or with a dull speaker, it is small. If,
in reading or speaking, too high a note be chosen, the lungs will
soon become wearied; if too low a pitch be selected, there is
danger of indistinctness of utterance ; and in either case there is
less room for compass or variety of tone than if one be taken
between the two extremes.
To secure the proper pitch and the greatest compass observe
the following rule :
KULE XII. The reader or speaker should choose that
pitch in which he can feel himself most at ease, and above
and below which he may have most room for variation.
REMARK 1. Having chosen the proper keynote, he should beware of
confining himself to it. This constitutes monotony, one of the greatest
FIFTH READER. 31
faults in elocution. One very important instrument for giving expres-
sion and life to thought is thus lost, and the hearer soon becomes wearied
and disgusted.
REMARK 2. There is another fault of nearly equal magnitude, and ol
very frequent occurrence. This consists in varying the pitch and force
without reference to the sense. A sentence is commenced with vehemence
and in a high key, and the voice gradually sinks until, the breath being
spent, it dies away in a whisper.
NOTE. The power of changing the key at will is difficult to acquire,
but of great importance.
REMARK 3. The habit of singsong, so common in reading poetry, as it
is a variation of pitch without reference to the sense, is a species of the
fault above mentioned.
REMARK 4. If the reader or speaker is guided by the sense, and if he
gives that emphasis, inflection, and expression required by the meaning,
these faults speedily disappear.
REMARK 5. To improve the voice in these respects, practice is neces-
sary. Commence, for example, with the lowest pitch the voice can com-
fortably sound, and repeat whole paragraphs and pages upon that key
with gentle force. Then repeat the paragraph with increased force, tak-
ing care not to raise the pitch. Then rise one note higher, and practice
on that, then another, and so on, until the highest pitch of the voice is
reached. Reverse the process, and repeat as before until the lowest pitch
is obtained.
NOTE. In these and all similar exercises, be very careful not to con-
found pitch and force.
QUANTITY AND QUALITY.
The tones of the voice should vary also in quantity, or
time required to utter a sound or a syllable, and in quality,
or expression, according to the nature of the subject,
REMARK. We notice a difference between the soft, insinuating tones
of persuasion ; the full, strong voice of command and decision ; the
harsh, irregular, and sometimes grating explosion of the sounds of
passion; the plaintive notes of sorrow and pity: and the equable and
unimpassioned flow of words in argumentative style.
The following direction, therefore, is worthy of attention :
The tones of the voice should always correspond both in
quantity and quality with the nature of the subject.
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Passion
and
Grief.
Plaintive.
Calm.
Fierce
Anger.
Loud
and
Explosive.
EXAMPLES.
" Come back ! come back ! " he cried, in grief,
"Across this stormy water,
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter! O, my daughter!"
I have lived long enough: my way of life
Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have.
f A very great portion of this globe is covered
j with water, which is called sea, and is very dis-
tinct from rivers and lakes.
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,
And "This to me?" he said;
"And 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
"Even in thy pitch of pride,
Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near,
I tell thee thou'rt defied!
And if thou said'st I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"
REMARK 1. In our attempt to imitate nature it is important to avoid
affectation, for to this fault even perfect monotony is preferable.
REMARK 2. The strength of the voice may be increased by practicing
with different degrees of loudness, from a whisper to full rotundity, tak-
ing care to keep the voice on the same key. The same note in music may
be sounded loud or soft. So also a sentence may be pronounced on the
same pitch with different degrees of loudness. Having practiced with
different degrees of loudness on one key, make the same experiment on
another, and then on another, and so on. This will also give the learner
practice in compass.
FIFTH READER. 33
VII. POETIC PAUSES. -
In poetry we have, in addition to other pauses, poetic
pauses. The object of these is simply to promote the
melody.
At the end of each line a slight pause is proper, what-
ever be the grammatical construction or the sense. The
purpose of this pause is to make prominent the melody of
the measure, and in rhyme to allow the ear to appreciate
the harmony of the similar sounds.
There is, also, another important pause, somewhere near
the middle of each line, which is called the ccesura or
ral pause. In the following lines it is marked thus (||) :
EXAMPLES.
There are hours long departed |j which memory brings,
Like blossoms of Eden || to twine round the heart,
And as time rushes by || on the might of his wings,
They may darken awhile || but they never depart.
REMARK. The caesural pause should never be so placed as to injure
the sense. The following lines, if melody alone were consulted, would
be read thus:
With fruitless la || bor Clara bound,
And strove to stanch || the gushing wound;
The Monk with un || availing cares,
Exhausted all || the church's prayers.
This manner of reading, however, would very much interfere with the
proper expression of the idea. This is to be corrected by making the
caesural pause yield to the sense. The above lines should be read thus:
With fruitless labor || Clara bound,
And strove || to stanch the gushing wound ;
The Monk || with unavailing cares,
Exhausted || all the church's prayers.
(5.-S.)
34 ECLECTIC SEBIES.
EXERCISES.
L DEATH OF FRANKLIN.
(To be read in a solemn tone.)
Franklin is dead. The genius who freed America', and
poured a copious stream of knowledge throughout Europe', is
returned unto the bosom of the Divinity^. The sage to whom
two worlds' lay claim, the man for whom science' and politics^
are disputing, indisputably enjoyed an elevated rank in human
nature.
The cabinets of princes have been long in the habit of noti-
fying the death of those who were great', only in their funeral
orations^. Long hath the etiquette of courts', proclaimed the
mourning of hypocrisy^. Nations' should wear mourning for
none but their benefactors^. The representatives' of nations
should recommend to public homage / only those who have been
the heroes of humanity^.
H. BONAPARTE.
He knew no motive' but interest^; acknowledged no criterion'
but success"" ; he worshiped no God' but ambition^ ; and with an
eastern devotion ', he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry^. Sub-
sidiary to this, there was no creed' that he did not profess^,
there was no opinion' that he did not promulgate^: in the hope of
a dynasty', he upheld the crescent ; for the sake of a divorce', he
bowed before the cross v ; the orphan of St. Louis', he became the
adopted child of the republic^; and, with a parricidal ingrati-
tude 7 , on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he reared
the throne of his despotism^.
At his touch crowns' crumbled^ ; beggars' reigned^ ; systems' van-
ished^ ; the wildest theories' took the color of his whim> ; and all
that was venerable^, and all that was novel', changed places with
the rapidity of a drama>. Nature had no obstacle' that he did
not surmount^; space, no opposition' he did not spurri^ ; and
whether amid Alpine rocks^, Arabian sands^, or Polar snows',
he seemed proofs against peril', and empowered with
FIFTH READER. 35
HI. HAMLET ON SEEING THE SKULL OF YORICK.
Alas, poor Yorick v ! I knew him\ Horatio 7 ; a fellow of in-
finite jest/, of most excellent fancy\ He hath borne me on his
back 7 a thousand times v ; and now', how abhorred my imagi-
nation is v ! My gorge rises s at it. Here hung those lips that I
have kissed 7 , 1 know not how oft v . Where be your gibes v now f
your gambols^? your songs^f your flashes of merriment, that
were wont to set the table on a roar v ? Not one', now, to mock
your own grinning 7 ? quite chopj "alien' ? Now get you to my
lady's chamber^, and tell her 7 , let her paint an inch thic?c\ to
this favor 7 she must come x ; make her laugh at that\
IV. DESCRIPTION OF A BATTLE.
Tet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew 7
With wavering flight v , while farcer grew
Around, the battle yell.
The border slogan rent the sky x ,
A Home"" ! a Gordon^ ' was the cry x ;
Loud' were the clanging blows v ;
Advanced 7 , forced back\ now low 7 , now high*,
The pennon sunk 7 and rose x ;
As bends the bark's mast in the gale 7 ,
When rent are rigging v , shrouds v , and sail 7 ,
It wavered 'mid the foes v .
The war, that for a space did fail 7 ,
Now trebly thundering swelled the gale\
And Stanley^ ! was the cry ;
A light on Marmion's visage spread 7 ,
And fired his glazing eye x :
With dying hand 7 , above his head 7 ,
He shook the fragment of his blade 7 ,
And shouted 7 , " Victory^ /
Charge^, Chester 7 , charge^! 0n\ Stanley',
Were the last words of Marmion.
36 ECLECTIC SERIES.
V. LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER.
For the Inflections and emphasis in this selection, let the pupil bt
guided by his own judgment.
A chieftain to the Highlands bound,
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry 1
And I'll give thee a silver pound,
To row us o'er the ferry."
"Now, who be ye would cross Loch-Gyle
This dark and stormy water?"
"Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.
"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together,
For should he find us in the glen,
My blood would stain the heather.
"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover,
Then who will cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover?"
Out spoke the hardy Highland wight
"I'll go, my chief I'm ready:
It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady :
"And, by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So, though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."
By this, the storm grew loud apace,
The water wraith was shrieking;
And, in the scowl of heaven, each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
FIFTH READER. 37
But still, as -wilder grew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.
"Oh! haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,
"Though tempest round us gather,
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."
The boat has left the stormy land,
A stormy sea before her;
When, oh! too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.
And still they rowed, amid the roar
Of waters fast prevailing;
Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore,
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For sore dismay through storm and shade
His child he did discover;
One lovely hand she stretched for aid,
And one was round her lover.
"Come back! come back!" he cried, in grief,
" Across this stormy water ;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief,
My daughter I O, my daughter!"
'T was vain : the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing:
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.
Thomas Campbell
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHOKS.
NAME.
1. ALCOTT, LOUISA M. .
2. ALLEN, MBS. E. A. .
3. ALLINOHAM, W.
4. ARNOLD, GEORGE
PAGE
. 110
. 286
. 62
. 848
NAME.
45. LAMB, CHARLES
46. LONDON TIMES .
47. LONGFELLOW . .101,
48. LOWELL ....
PAGB
. 333
. 156
154, 276
. 228
5. ARTHUR, T. S. .
6 AUDUBON ....
. 44
315
49. MARTINEAU, HARRIET
. 302
292
7. BANCROFT ....
. 241
189
8. BIBLE, THE
9. BLACK, WILLIAM
10 BRIGGS, C F
72, 167
. 338
. 263
52. MOORE ....
53. MORRIS, G. P. .
54 NOBLE L L
. 295
. 851
177
11. BROOKS, C. T. .
12. BRYANT ....
13 BUCKINGHAM J T
. 342
117, 135
. 138
55. NORTON, MRS. C. E. S. .
56. O'BRIEN, FITZ-JAMES
57 PIATT J J
. 269
. 826
246
14. BURRITT, ELIHU
15. CAMPBELL, THOMAS .
16. CHANNING, WILLIAM ELLER
17. COLLINS, WILLIAM .
18. COOK, ELIZA
19 COOPER JAMES FENIMORE
. 193
. 86
Y . 284
. 195
. 59
. 296
58. PIATT, MRS. S. M. B.
59. PROCTER, ADELAIDE ANNE
60. READ, T. B.
61. RUSSELL, JOHN .
62. SANGSTER, MRS. M. E.
63 SAXE, J. G. ...
. 252
. 258
. 200
. 77
. 163
290
20 COWPEB .
. 176
64 SHAKESPEARE . .
328
21 DICKENS ...
. 247
65 SHEPHERD ...
262
22. DIMOND, WILLIAM
23. EASTMAN, C. G. .
24. EDGEWORTH, MARIA .
25 FINCH F. M.
. 312
. 49
. 27S
. 18S
66. SOUTHEY, MRS. C. A.
67. SOUTHEY, ROBERT
68. SPRAGUE, CHARLES .
69 STODDARD R. H. .
. 12
82, 128
. 271
. 819
26. FOLLEN, MRS. E. L. .
27 GOLDSMITH ....
. 245
. 87
70. TAYLOR, B. F. .
71 TAYLOR, JANE ...
. 289
114 283
28 GOODRICH 8 G.
. 108
72 TENNYSON ....
. 277
29. GRIMKE' THOMAS S. .
80. HALE, MRS. 8. J. .
81. HARTE, FRANCIS BRET
. 350
. 67
. 849
78. THACKERAY
74. THAXTER, CELIA
75. THOMPSON, D. P.
. 321
. 282
. 234
82. HAWES, W. P. .
33. HAWTHORNE
34. HELPS, ARTHUR
35. HEMANS, FELICIA D.
86. HOOD, THOMAS .
. 180
. 108
. 809
. 171
. 143
95
76. THOMSON, JAMES
77. THOREAU, H. D.
78. TODD, JOHN
79. WARNER, CHARLES DUDLEY
80. "CAPITAL" (WASHINGTON)
81 WEBSTER .
. 159
. 278
. 204
. 50
. 185
196
88. INGELOW, JEAN .
89. IRVING . . . 119,
40. JEHBOLD, DOUGLAS .
41. JOHNSON, SAMUEL
42. KEBLE, JOHN
43. KiNGSLtY, CHARLES .
44. KNOWLES, SHERIDAN
(38)
. 52
132, 253
. 151
. 843
. 195
. 71
, 207
82. WEEMS, MASON L. .
83. WHITTIEB ... 63,
84. WILSON, JOHN
85. WIRT, WILLIAM
86. WOLFE, CHARLES
87. WOTTON, SIB HENBY
. 88
74, 259
. 96
. 280
. 301
. 806
L THE GOOD READER.
1. IT is told of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia,
that, as he was seated one day in his private room, a
written petition was brought to him with the request that
it should be immediately read. The King had just re-
(89)
40 ECLECTIC SERIES.
turned from hunting, and the glare of the sun, or some
other cause, had so dazzled his eyes that he found it diffi-
cult to make out a single word of the writing.
2. His private secretary happened to be absent ; and the
soldier who brought the petition could not read. There
was a page, or favorite boy servant, waiting in the hall,
and upon him the King called. The page was a son of one
of the noblemen of the court, but proved to be a very poor
reader.
3. In the first place, he did not articulate distinctly.
He huddled his words together in the utterance, as if they
were syllables of one long word, which he must get through
with as speedily as possible. His pronunciation was bad,
and he did not modulate his voice so as to bring out the
meaning of what he read. Every sentence was uttered with
a dismal monotony of voice, as if it did not differ in any
respect from that which preceded it.
4. " Stop ! " said the King, impatiently. " Is it an auc-
tioneer's list of goods to be sold that you are hurrying
over ? Send your companion to me. 77 Another page who
stood at the door now entered, and to him the King gave
the petition. The second page began by hemming and
clearing his throat in such an affected manner that the
King jokingly asked him whether he had not slept in the
public garden, with the gate open, the night before.
5. The second page had a good share of self-conceit,
however, and so was not greatly confused by the King's
jest. He determined that he would avoid the mistake
which his comrade had made. So he commenced reading
the petition slowly and with great formality, emphasizing
every word, and prolonging the articulation of every sylla-
ble. But his manner was so tedious that the King cried
out, "Stop! are you reciting a lesson in the elementary
sounds ? Out of the room ! But no : stay ! Send me that
little girl who is sitting there by the fountain."
6. The girl thus pointed out by the King was a daughter
FIFTH READER. 41
of one of the laborers employed by the royal gardener;
and she had come to help her father weed the flower beds.
It chanced that, like many of the poor people in Prussia,
she had received a good education. She was somewhat
alarmed when she found herself in the King's presence, but
took courage when the King told her that he only wanted
her to read for him, as his eyes were weak.
7. Now, Ernestine (for this was the name of the little
girl) was fond of reading aloud, and often many of the
neighbors would assemble at her father's house to hear
her ; those who could not read themselves would come to
her, also, with their letters from distant friends or children,
and she thus formed the habit of reading various sorts of
handwriting promptly and well.
8. The King gave her the petition, and she rapidly
glanced through the opening lines to get some idea of
what it was about. As she read, her eyes began to glisten,
and her breast to heave. "What is the matter?" asked
the King ; " don't you know how to read ? " " Oh, yes !
sire," she replied, addressing him with the title usually
applied to him: "I will now read it, if you please."
9. The two pages were about to leave the room. "Re-
main," said the King. The little girl began to read the
petition. It was from a poor widow, whose only son had
been drafted to serve in the army, although his health was
delicate and his pursuits had been such as to unfit him for
military life. His father had been killed in battle, and the
son had a strong desire to become a portrait painter.
10. The writer told her story in a simple, concise man-
ner, that carried to the heart a belief of its truth; and
Ernestine read it with so much feeling, and with an artic-
ulation so just, in tones so pure and distinct, that when
she had finished, the King, into whose eyes the tears had
started, exclaimed, " Oh ! now I understand what it is all
about; but I might never have known, certainly I never
should have felt, its meaning had I trusted to these young
42 ECLECTIC SERIES.
gentlemen, whom I now dismiss from my service for one
year, advising them to occupy their time in learning to
read."
11. " As for you, my young lady," continued the King,
"I know you will ask no better reward for your trouble
than the pleasure of carrying to this poor widow my order
for her son's immediate discharge. Let me see whether you
can write as well as you can read. Take this pen, and write
as I dictate." He then dictated an order, which Ernestine
wrote, and he signed. Calling one of his guards, he bade
him go with the girl and see that the order was obeyed.
12. How much happiness was Ernestine the means of
bestowing through her good elocution, united to the happy
circumstance that brought it to the knowledge of the King !
First, there were her poor neighbors, to whom she could
give instruction and entertainment. Then, there was the
poor widow who sent the petition, and who not only re-
gained her son, but received through Ernestine an order for
him to paint the King's likeness ; so that the poor boy soon
rose to great distinction, and had more orders than he
could attend to. Words could not express his gratitude,
and that of his mother, to the little girl.
13. And Ernestine had, moreover, the satisfaction of aid-
ing her father to rise in the world, so that he became the
King's chief gardener. The King did not forget her, but
had her well educated at his own expense. As for the two
pages, she was indirectly the means of doing them good,
also; for, ashamed of their bad reading, they commenced
studying in earnest, till they overcame the faults that had
offended the King. Both finally rose to distinction, one as
a lawyer, and the other as a statesman; and they owed
their advancement in life chiefly to their good elocution.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Pe-ti'tion, a formal request. 3. Ar-tXe'u-late,
to utter the elementary sounds. Mod'u-late, to vary or inflect.
Monot'o-ny, lack of variety. 4. Af-feet'ed, unnatural and silly.
FIFTH READER. 43
9. Draft'ed, selected by lot. 10. Concise', brief and futt of meaning.
11. Dis-charge', release. Dictate, to utter so that another may write
down. 12. Dis-tfne'tion, honorable and notable position. Ex-press',
to make known the feelings of.
NOTES. Frederick H. of Prussia (b. 1712, d. 1788), or Fred-
erick the Great, as he was called, was one of the greatest of Ger-
man rulers. He was distinguished for his military exploits, for
nis wise and just government, and for his literary attainments.
He wrote many able works in the French language. Many pleas-
ant anecdotes are told of this king, of which the one given in the
lesson is a fair sample.
II. THE BLUEBELL.
1. THERE is a story I have heard
A poet learned it of a bird,
And kept its music every word
2. A story of a dim ravine,
O'er which the towering tree tops lean,
With one blue rift of sky between;
3. And there, two thousand years ago,
A little flower as white as snow
Swayed in the silence to and fro.
4 Day after day, with longing eye,
The floweret watched the narrow sky,
And fleecy clouds that floated by.
5. And through the darkness, night by night,
One gleaming star would climb the height,
And cheer the lonely floweret's sight.
6. Thus, watching the blue heavens afar,
And the rising of its favorite star,
A slow change came but not to mar;
44 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7. For softly o'er its petals white
There crept a blueness, like the light
Of skies upon a summer night;
8. And in its chalice, I am told,
The bonny bell was formed to hold
A tiny star that gleamed like gold.
9. Now, little people, sweet and true,
I find a lesson here for you
Writ in the floweret's bell of blue:
10. The patient child whose watchful eye
Strives after all things pure and high,
Shall take their image by and by.
DEFINITIONS. 2. "Rift, a narrow opening, a cleft. 3. Swayed,
swung. 5. Height (pro. hlte), an elevated place. 7. Pet'als, the
colored leaves of a flower. 8. Chaise, a cup or bowl. Bon'ny,
beautiful.
HI. THE GENTLE HAND.
Timothy S. Arthur (6. 1809, d. 1885) was born near Newburgh, N.Y.,
but passed most of his life at Baltimore and Philadelphia. His oppor-
tunities for good schooling were quite limited, and he may be consid-
ered a self-educated man. He was the author of more than a hundred
volumes, principally novels of a domestic and moral tone, and of many
shorter tales magazine articles, etc. " Ten Nights in a Barroom," and
"Three Years in a Mantrap," are among his best known works.
1. WHEN and where it matters not now to relate but
once upon a time, as I was passing through a thinly peo-
pled district of country, night came down upon me almost
unawares. Being on foot, I could not hope to gain the
village toward which my steps were directed, until a
EEADJSB. 45
late hour ; and I therefore preferred seeking shelter and a
night's lodging at the first humble dwelling that presented
itself.
2. Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows,
when I found myself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from
the small uncurtained windows of which the light shone
with a pleasant promise of good cheer and comfort. The
house stood within an inclosure, and a short distance from
the road along which I was moving with wearied feet.
3. Turning aside, and passing through the ill-hung gate,
I approached the dwelling. Slowly the gate swung on its
wooden hinges, and the rattle of its latch, in closing, did
not disturb the air until I had nearly reached the porch in
front of the house, in which a slender girl, who had noticed
my entrance, stood awaiting my arrival.
4. A deep, quick bark answered, almost like an echo, the
sound of the shutting gate, and, sudden as an apparition,
the form of an immense dog loomed in the doorway. At
the instant when he was about to spring, a light hand was
laid upon his shaggy neck, and a low word spoken.
5. " Go in, Tiger," said the girl, not in a voice of au-
thority, yet in her gentle tones was the consciousness that
she would be obeyed ; and, as she spoke, she lightly bore
upon the animal with her hand, and he turned away and
disappeared within the dwelling.
6. " Who's that ? " A rough voice asked the question ;
and now a heavy-looking man took the dog's place in the
door.
7. " How far is it to G ? '' I asked, not deeming it
best to say, in the beginning, that I sought a resting place
for the night.
8. "To G- 1" growled the man, but not so harshly
as at first. " It 's good six miles from here."
9. " A long distance ; and I 'm a stranger and on foot,"
said I. " If you can make room for me until morning, I
will be very thankful."
46 ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. I saw the girl's hand move quickly up his arm, until
it rested on his shoulder, and now she leaned to him still
closer.
11. "Come in. We'll try what can be done for you."
There was a change in the man's voice that made me
wonder. I entered a large room, in which blazed a brisk
fire. Before the fire sat two stout lads, who turned upon
me their heavy eyes, with no very welcome greeting. A
middle-aged woman was standing at a table, and two chil-
dren were amusing themselves with a kitten on the floor.
12. " A stranger, mother," said the man who had given
me so rude a greeting at the door; "and he wants us to
let him stay all night."
13. The woman looked at me doubtingly for a few mo-
ments, and then replied coldly, "We don't keep a public
house."
14. " I 'm aware of that, ma'am," said I ; " but night has
overtaken me, and it 's a long way yet to G ."
15. " Too far for a tired man to go on foot," said the
master of the house, kindly, " so it 's no use talking about
it, mother ; we must give him a bed."
16. So unobtrusively that I scarce noticed the movement,
the girl had drawn to her mother's side. What she said to
her I did not hear, for the brief words were uttered in a
low voice ; but I noticed, as she spoke, one small, fair hand
rested on the woman's hand.
17. Was there magic in that touch? The woman's re-
pulsive aspect changed into one of kindly welcome, and she
said, "Yes, it 's a long way to G . I guess we can find
a place for him."
18. Many times more during that evening, did I observe
the magic power of that hand and voice the one gentle
yet potent as the other. On the next morning, breakfast
being over, I was preparing to take my departure when
my host informed me that if I would wait for half an
hour he would give me a ride in his wagon to G , as
FIFTH READER. 47
business required him to go there. I was very well pleased
to accept of the invitation.
19. In due time, the farmer's wagon was driven into
the road before the house, and I was invited to get in. I
noticed the horse as a rough-looking Canadian pony, with a
certain air of stubborn endurance. As the farmer took his
seat by my side, the family came to the door to see us off.
20. " Dick ! " said the farmer in a peremptory voice,
giving the rein a quick jerk as he spoke. But Dick
moved not a step. " Dick ! you vagabond ! get up." And
the farmer's whip cracked sharply by the pony's ear.
21. It availed not, however, this second appeal. Dick
stood firmly disobedient. Next the whip was brought down
upon him with an impatient hand; but the pony only
reared up a little. Past and sharp the strokes were next
dealt to the number of half a dozen. The man might as
well have beaten the wagon, for all his end was gained.
22. A stout lad now came out into the road, and, catch-
ing Dick by the bridle, jerked him forward, using, at the
same time, the customary language on such occasions, but
Dick met this new ally with increased stubbornness, plant-
ing his fore feet more firmly and at a sharper angle with
the ground.
23. The impatient boy now struck the pony on the side
of the head with his clinched hand, and jerked cruelly at
his bridle. It availed nothing, however; Dick was not to
be wrought upon by any such arguments.
24. "Don't do so, John!" I turned my head as the
maiden's sweet voice reached my ear. She was passing
through the gate into the road, and in the next moment
had taken hold of the lad and drawn him away from the
animal. No strength was exerted in this ; she took hold of
his arm, and he obeyed her wish as readily as if he had no
thought beyond her gratification.
25. And now that soft hand was laid gently on the pony's
neck, and a single low word spoken. How instantly were
48 ECLECTIC SERIES.
the tense muscles relaxed how quickly the stubborn air
vanished !
26. "Poor Dick!" said the maiden, as she stroked his
neck lightly, or softly patted it with a childlike hand.
* Now, go along, you provoking fellow ! " she added, in a
half-chiding, yet affectionate voice, as she drew up the
bridle.
27. The pony turned toward her, and rubbed his head
against her arm for an instant or two; then, pricking up
his ears, he started off at a light, cheerful trot, and went on
his way as freely as if no silly crotchet had ever entered his
stubborn brain.
28. "What a wonderful power that hand possesses!"
said I, speaking to my companion, as we rode away.
29. He looked at me for a moment, as if my remark had
occasioned surprise. Then a light came into his counte-
nance, and he said briefly, " She 's good ! Everybody and
everything loves her."
30. Was that, indeed, the secret of her power? Was
the quality of her soul perceived in the impression of her
hand, even by brute beasts ! The father's explanation was
doubtless the true one. Yet have I ever since wondered,
and still do wonder, at the potency which lay in that
maiden's magic touch. I have seen something of the same
power, showing itself in the loving and the good, but never
to the extent as instanced in her, whom, for want of a better
name, I must still call " Gentle Hand."
DEFINITIONS. 2. Vi-cin'i-ty, neighborhood. 16. Un-ob-tru'-
slve-ly, not noticeably, modestly. 17. Re-piil'sive, repelling, forbid-
ding. 18. Po'tent, powerful, effective. Host, one from whom
another receives food, lodging, or entertainment. 20. Per'emp-to-ry,
commanding, decisive. 21. A-vailed', was of use, had effect.
22. Al-ly', a confederate, one who unites with another in some pur-
pose. 25. Tense, strained to stiffness, rigid. Re-laxed', loosened.
26. Chld'ing, scolding, rebuking. 27. Crotch'et, a perverse fancy t
a whim. 30. Iii'staiHjed, mentioned as an example.
FIFTH READER. 49
IV. THE GRANDFATHER.
Charles G. Eastman (6. 1816, d. 1861) was born in Maine, but removed
at an early age to Vermont, where he was connected with the press at
Burlington, Woodstock, and Montpelier. He published a volume of
poems in 1848, written in a happy lyric and ballad style, and faithfully
portraying rural life in New England.
1. THE farmer sat in his easy-chair
Smoking his pipe of clay,
While his hale old wife with busy care,
Was clearing the dinner away;
A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes,
On her grandfather's knee, was catching flies.
2. The old man laid his hand on her head,
With a tear on his wrinkled face,
He thought how often her mother, dead,
Had sat in the selfsame place;
As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye,
"Don't smoke ! " said the child, " how it makes you cry ! n
3. The house dog lay stretched out on the floor,
Where the shade, afternoons, used to steal;
The busy old wife by the open door
Was turning the spinning wheel,
And the old brass clock on the manteltree
Had plodded along to almost three.
4. Still the farmer sat in his easy-chair,
While close to his heaving breast
The moistened brow and the cheek so fair
Of his sweet grandchild were pressed;
His head bent down, on her soft hair lay;
Fast asleep were they both on that summer day.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Hale, healthy. 3. Man'tel-tree, shelf over a
fireplace. Plod'ded, went slowly. 4. Heading, rising and falling.
(5. 4.)
50 ECLECTIC SERIES.
V. A BOY ON A FARM.
Charles Dudley Warner (&. 1829, ) was born at Plainfield, Mass.
In 1851 he graduated at Hamilton College, and in 1856 was admitted to
the bar at Philadelphia, but moved to Chicago to practice his profession.
There he remained until 1860, when he became connected with the press
at Hartford, Conn., and has ever since devoted himself to literature.
" My Summer in a Garden," " Saunterings," and " Backlog Studies " are
his best known works. The following extract is from " Being a Boy."
1. SAY what you will about the general usefulness of
boys, it is my impression that a farm without a boy would
very soon come to grief. What the boy does is the life of
the farm. He is the factotum, always in demand, always
expected to do the thousand indispensable things that
nobody else will do. Upon him fall all the odds and ends,
the most difficult things.
2. After everybody else is through, he has to finish up.
His work is like a woman's, perpetually waiting on others.
Everybody knows how much easier it is to eat a good
dinner than it is to wash the dishes afterwards. Consider
what a boy on a farm is required to do, things that must
be done, or life would actually stop.
3. It is understood, in the first place, that he is to do all
the errands, to go to the store, to the post office, and to
carry all sorts of messages. If he had as many legs as a
centiped, they would tire before night. His two short
limbs seem to him entirely inadequate to the task. He
would like to have as many legs as a wheel has spokes, and
rotate about in the same way.
4. This he sometimes tries to do ; and the people who
have seen him " turning cart wheels " along the side of the
road, have supposed that he was amusing himself and idling
his time ; he was only trying to invent a new mode of loco-
motion, so that he could economize his legs, and do his
errands with greater dispatch.
5. He practices standing on his head, in order to ac-
custom himself to any position. Leapfrog is one of his
FIFTH HEADER. 51
methods of getting over the ground quickly. He would
willingly go an errand any distance if he could leapfrog it
with a few other boys.
6. He has a natural genius for combining pleasure with
business. This is the reason why, when he is sent to the
spring for a pitcher of water, he is absent so long ; for he
stops to poke the frog that sits on the stone, or, if there is
a penstock, to put his hand over the spout, and squirt the
water a little while.
7. He is the one who spreads the grass when the men
have cut it; he mows it away in the barn; he rides the
horse, to cultivate the corn, up and down the hot, weary
rows; he picks up the potatoes when they are dug; he
drives the cows night and morning; he brings wood and
water, and splits kindling ; he gets up the horse, and puts
out the horse; whether he is in the house or out of it,
there is always something for him to do.
8. Just before the school in winter he shovels paths ; in
summer he turns the grindstone. He knows where there
are lots of wintergreens and sweet flags, but instead of
going for them, he is to stay indoors and pare apples, and
stone raisins, and pound something in a mortar. And yet,
with his mind full of schemes of what he would like to do,
and his hands full of occupations, he is an idle boy, who
has nothing to busy himself with but school and chores !
9. He would gladly do all the work if somebody else
would do the chores, he thinks ; and yet I doubt if any
boy ever amounted to anything in the world, or was of
much use as a man, who did not enjoy the advantages of
a liberal education in the way of chores.
DEFINITIONS, -r 1. Fae-td'tum, a person employed to do all kinds
of work. In-dis-pen'sa-ble, absolutely necessary. 2. Per-pet'u-al-ly,
continually. 3. Cen'ti-ped, an insect with a great number of feet.
4. E-eon'omize, to save. Dis-patch', diligence, haste. 6. Pen'-
stock, a wooden tube for conducting water. 8. Choreg, the light
work of the household either within or without doors.
52 ECLECTIC SERIES.
VI. THE SINGING LESSON.
Jean Ingelow (6. 1830, d. 1897) was born at Boston, Lincolnshire, Eng-
land. Her fame as a poetess was at once established upon the publica-
tion of her "Poems" in 1863; since which time several other volumes
have appeared. The most generally admired of her poems are " Songs of
Seven " and " The High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire." She has
also written several successful novels, of which " Off the Skelligs " is the
most popular. "Stories Told to a Child," "The Cumberers," "Poor
Mat," "Studies for Stories," and "Mopsa, the Fairy" are also well
known. Miss Ingelow resided in London, England, and spent much of
her time in deeds of charity.
1. A NIGHTINGALE made a mistake;
She sang a few notes out of tune:
Her heart was ready to break,
And she hid away from the moon.
She wrung her claws, poor thing,
But was far too proud to weep;
She tucked her head under her wing,
And pretended to be asleep.
2. A lark, arm in arm with a thrush,
Came sauntering up to the place;
The nightingale felt herself blush,
Though feathers hid her face;
She knew they had heard her song,
She felt them snicker and sneer;
She thought that life was too long,
And wished she could skip a year.
& " nightingale ! " cooed a dove ;
" nightingale ! what 's the use ?
You bird of beauty and love,
Why behave like a goose?
Don't sulk away from our sight,
Like a common, contemptible fowl;
You bird of joy and delight,
Why behave like an owl ?
FIFTH READER. 53
4. "Only think of all you have done;
Only think of all you can do;
A false note is really fun
From such a bird as you!
Lift up your proud little crest,
Open your musical beak;
Other birds have to do their best>
You need only to speak!"
5 The nightingale shyly took
Her head from under her wing,
And, giving the dove a look,
Straightway began to sing.
There was never a bird could pass;
The night was divinely calm;
And the people stood on the grass
To hear that wonderful psalm.
6. The nightingale did not care,
She only sang to the skies;
Her song ascended there,
And there she fixed her eyes.
The people that stood below
She knew but little about;
And this tale has a moral, I know,
If you'll try and find it out.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Saun'ter-ing, wandering idly, strolling.
Snick'er, to laugh in a half-suppressed manner. 4. Crest, a tuft
growing on an animaVs head. 5. Di-vlne'ly, in a supreme degree.
6. Mor'al, the practical lesson which anything isjitted to teach.
NOTE. The nightingale is a .small bird, about six inches in
length, with a coat of dark-brown feathers above and of grayish-
white beneath. Its voice is astonishingly strong and sweet, and,
when wild, it usually sings throughout the evening and night
from April to the middle of summer. The bird is common in
Europe, but is not found in America.
54 ECLECTIC SERIES.
VII. DO NOT MEDDLE.
1. ABOUT twenty years ago there lived a singular gentle-
man in the Old Hall among the elm trees. He was about
three-score years of age, very rich, and somewhat odd in
many of his habits, but for generosity and benevolence he
had no equal.
2. No poor cottager stood in need of comforts, which he
was not ready to supply ; no sick man or woman languished
for want of his assistance ; and not even a beggar, unless a
known impostor, went empty-handed from the Hall. Like
the village pastor described in Goldsmith's poem of " The
Deserted Village/'
"His house was known to all the vagrant train;
He chid their wand'rings, but relieved their pain;
The long-remembered beggar was his guest,
"Whose beard descending swept his aged breast."
3. Now it happened that the old gentleman wanted a
boy to wait upon him at table, and to attend him in differ-
ent ways, for he was very fond of young people. But
much as he liked the society of the young, he had a great
aversion to that curiosity in which many young people are
apt to indulge. He used to say, " The boy who will peep
into a drawer will be tempted to take something out of it ;
and he who will steal a penny in his youth will steal a
pound in his manhood."
4. No sooner was it known that the old gentleman was in
want of a boy than twenty applications were made for the
situation; but he determined not to engage anyone until
he had in some way ascertained that he did not possess a
curious, prying disposition.
5. On Monday morning seven iads, dressed in their Sun-
day clothes, with bright and happy faces, made their ap-
pearance at the Hall, each of them desiring to obtain the
situation. Now the old gentleman, being of a singular dis-
FIFTH READER. 55
position, had prepared a room in such a way that he might
easily know if any of the young people who applied were
given to meddle unnecessarily with things around them, or
to peep into cupboards and drawers. He took care that
the lads who were then at Elm Tree Hall should be shown
into this room one after another.
6. And first, Charles Brown was sent into the room, and
told that he would have to wait a little. So Charles sat
down on a chair near the door. For some time he was
very quiet, and looked about him ; but there seemed to be
so many curious things in the room that at last he got up to
peep at them.
7. On the table was placed a dish cover, and Charles
wanted sadly to know what was under it, but he felt afraid
of lifting it up. Bad habits are strong things; and, as
Charles was of a curious disposition, he could not withstand
the temptation of taking one peep. So he lifted up the
cover.
8. This turned out to be a sad affair ; for under the dish
cover was a heap of very light feathers ; part of the feath-
ers, drawn up by a current of air, flew about the room,
and Charles, in his fright, putting the cover down hastily,
puffed the rest of them off the table.
9. What was to be done ? Charles began to pick up the
feathers one by one ; but the old gentleman, who was in an
adjoining room, hearing a scuffle, and guessing the cause of
it, entered the room, to the consternation of Charles Brown,
who was very soon dismissed as a boy who had not principle
enough to resist even a slight temptation.
10. When the room was once more arranged, Henry
Wilkins was placed there until such time as he should be
sent for. No sooner was he left to himself than his atten-
tion was attracted by a plate of fine, ripe cherries. Now
Henry was uncommonly fond of cherries, and he thought
it would be impossible to miss one cherry among so many.
He looked and longed, and longed and looked, for some
66 ECLECTIC SERIES.
time, and just as he had got off his seat to take one, he
heard, as he thought, a foot coining to the door; but no,
it was a false alarm.
11. Taking fresh courage, he went cautiously and took a
very fine cherry, for he was determined to take but one,
and put it into his mouth. It was excellent ; and then he
persuaded himself that he ran no risk in taking another ;
this he did, and hastily popped it into his mouth.
12. Now, the old gentleman had placed a few artificial
cherries at the top of the others, filled with Cayenne pep-
per; one of these Henry had unfortunately taken, and it
made his mouth smart and burn most intolerably. The old
gentleman heard him coughing, and knew very well what
was the matter. The boy that would take what did not
belong to him, if no more than a cherry, was not the boy
for him. Henry Wilkins was sent about his business with-
out delay, with his mouth almost as hot as if he had put a
burning coal into it.
13. Kufus Wilson was next introduced into the room and
left to himself; but he had not been there ten minutes
before he began to move from one place to another. He
was of a bold, resolute temper, but not overburdened with
principle; for if he could have opened every cupboard,
closet, and drawer in the house, without being found out,
he would have done it directly.
14. Having looked around the room, he noticed a drawer
to the table, and made up his mind to peep therein. But
no sooner did he lay hold of the drawer knob than he set
a large bell ringing, which was concealed under the table.
The old gentleman immediately answered the summons, and
entered the room.
15. Rufus was so startled by the sudden ringing of the
bell, that all his impudence could not support him. He
looked as though any one might knock him down with a
feather. The old gentleman asked him if he had rung the
bell because he wanted anything. Kufus was much con-
FIFTH READER. 67
fused, and stammered, and tried to excuse himself, but all
to no purpose, for it did not prevent him from being
ordered off the premises.
16. George Jones was then shown into the room by an
old steward ; and being of a cautious disposition, he touched
nothing, but only looked at the things about him. At last
he saw that a closet door was a little open, and, thinking
it would be impossible for any one to know that he had
opened it a little more, he very cautiously opened it an
inch farther, looking down at the bottom of the door, that
it might not catch against anything and make a noise.
17. Now had he looked at the top, instead of the bottom,
it might have been better for him ; for to the top of the
door was fastened a plug, which filled up the hole of a small
barrel of shot. He ventured to open the door another inch,
and then another, till, the plug being pulled out of the
barrel, the leaden shot began to pour out at a strange rate.
At the bottom of the closet was placed a tin pan, and the
shot falling upon this pan made such a clatter that George
was frightened half out of his senses.
18. The old gentleman soon came into the room to
inquire what was the matter, and there he found George
nearly as pale as a sheet. George was soon dismissed.
19. It now came the turn of Albert Jenkins to be put
into the room. The other boys had been sent to their
homes by different ways, and no one knew what the expe-
rience of the other had been in the room of trial.
20. On the table stood a small round box, with a screw
top to it, and Albert, thinking it contained something curi-
ous, could not be easy without unscrewing the top ; but no
sooner did he do this than out bounced an artificial snake,
full a yard long, and fell upon his arm. He started back,
and uttered a scream which brought the old gentleman to
his elbow. There stood Albert, with the bottom of the box
in one hand, the top in the other, and the snake on the
floor.
68 ECLECTIC SERIES.
21. "Come, come," said the old gentleman, "one snake
is quite enough to have in the house at a time ; therefore,
the sooner you are gone the better." With that he dis-
missed him, without waiting a moment for his reply.
22. William Smith next entered the room, and being left
alone soon began to amuse himself in looking at the curi-
osities around him. William was not only curious and pry.
ing, but dishonest, too, and observing that the key was left
in the drawer of a bookcase, he stepped on tiptoe in that
direction. The key had a wire fastened to it, which com-
municated with an electrical machine, and William received
such a shock as he was not likely to forget. No sooner did
he sufficiently recover himself to walk, than he was told to
leave the house, and let other people lock and unlock their
own drawers.
23. The other boy was Harry Gordon, and though he
was left in the room full twenty minutes, he never during
that time stirred from his chair. Harry had eyes in his
head as well as the others, but he had more integrity in
his heart ; neither the dish cover, the cherries, the drawer
knob, the closet door, the round box, nor the key tempted
him to rise from his seat ; and the consequence was that,
in half an hour after, he was engaged in the service of the
old gentleman at Elm Tree Hall. He followed his good
old master to his grave, and received a large legacy for his
upright conduct in his service.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Languished, suffered, sank away. Im-pos'-
tor, a deceiver. 3. A-ver'sion, dislike. In-diilge', to give way to.
Pound, a British denomination of money equal in value to about
$4.86. 4. Ap-pli-ea'tion, the act of making a request. 9. Con-
ster-na'tion, excessive terror, dismay. Prln'9i-ple, a right rule of
conduct. 12. Ar-ti-fr'cial (pro. ar-ti-flsh'al), made by art, not
real. In-tol'er-a-bly, in a manner not to be borne. 14. Sum'mons,
a call to appear. 19. Ex-pe'ri-eiKje, knowledge gained by actual
Hal 23. In-teg'ri-ty, honesty. Leg'a^y, a gift, by will, of per-
wnal property.
FIFTH READER. 69
vin. WORK.
Eliza Cook (b. 1817, d. 1889) was born at London. In 1837 she com-
menced contributing to periodicals. In 1840 the first collection of her
poems was made. In 1849 she became editor of " Eliza Cook's Journal."
1. WORK, work, my boy, be not afraid;
Look labor boldly in the face;
Take up the hammer or the spade,
And blush not for your humble place.
2. There's glory in the shuttle's song;
There's triumph in the anvil's stroke;
There's merit in the brave and strong
Who dig the mine or fell the oak.
3. The wind disturbs the sleeping lake,
And bids it ripple pure and fresh;
It moves the green boughs till they make
Grand music in their leafy mesh.
4. And so the active breath of life
Should stir our dull and sluggard wills;
For are we not created rife
With health, that stagnant torpor kills?
5. I doubt if he who lolls his head
Where idleness and plenty meet,
Enjoys his pillow or his bread
As those who earn the meals they eat.
6. And man is never half so blest
As when the busy day is spent
So as to make his evening rest
A holiday of glad content.
DEFINITIONS. 3. Mesh, network. 4. Rife, abounding. Stag 1 -
nant, inactive. Tor'por, laziness, stupidity. 5. Lollg, reclines, leans.
60 ECLECTIC SERIES.
IX. THE MANIAC.
1. A GENTLEMAN who had traveled in Europe, relates
that he one day visited the hospital of Berlin, where he
3aw a man whose exterior was very striking. His figure,
tall and commanding, was bending with age, but more with
sorrow ; the few scattered hairs which remained on his tem-
ples were white almost as the driven snow, and the deepest
melancholy was depicted in his countenance.
2. On inquiring who he was and what brought him
there, he started, as if from sleep, and, after looking around
him, began with slow and measured steps to stride the hall,
repeating in a low but audible voice, "Once one is two;
once one is two."
3. Now and then he would stop, and remain with his
arms folded on his breast as if in contemplation, for some
minutes; then again resuming his walk, he continued to
repeat, " Once one is two ; once one is two." His story, as
our traveler understood it, is as follows :
4. Conrad Lange, collector of the revenues of the city of
Berlin, had long been known as a man whom nothing could
divert from the paths of honesty. Scrupulously exact in
all his dealings, and assiduous in the discharge of all his
duties, he had acquired the good will and esteem of all
who knew him, and the confidence of the minister of
finance, whose duty it is to inspect the accounts of all
officers connected with the revenue.
5. On casiing up his accounts at the close of a particular
year, he found a deficit of ten thousand ducats. Alarmed
at this discovery, he went to the minister, presented his
accounts, and informed him that he did not know how it
had arisen, and that he had been robbed by some person
bent on his ruin.
6. The minister received his accounts, but thinking it a
duty to secure a person who might probably be a defaulter,
FIFTH READER. 61
he caused him to be arrested, and put his accounts into the
hands of one of his secretaries for inspection, who returned
them the day after with the information that the deficiency
arose from a miscalculation; that in multiplying, Mr. Lange
had said, once one is two, instead of once one is one.
7. The poor man was immediately released from con-
finement, his accounts returned, and the mistake pointed
out. During his imprisonment, which lasted two days, he
had neither eaten, drunk, nor taken any repose ; and when
he appeared, his countenance was as pale as death. On
receiving his accounts, he was a long time silent; then
suddenly awaking, as if from a trance, he repeated, " Once
one is two."
8. He appeared to be entirely insensible of his situation*,
would neither eat nor drink, unless solicited; and took
notice of nothing that passed around him. While repeat-
ing his accustomed phrase, if anyone corrected him by
saying, "Once one is one," his attention was arrested for
a moment, and he said, " Ah, right, once one is one ; " and
then resuming his walk, he continued to repeat, " Once one
is two." He died shortly after the traveler left Berlin.
9. This affecting story, whether true or untrue, obviously
abounds with lessons of instruction. Alas! how easily is
the human mind thrown off its balance; especially when
it is stayed on this world only, and has no experimental
knowledge of the meaning of the injunction of Scripture,
to cast all our cares upon Him who careth for us, and who
heareth even the young ravens when they cry.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ex-te'ri-or, outward appearance. De-piet'ed,
painted, represented. 3. Con-tem-pla'tion, continued attention of
the mind to one subject. 4. Rev'e-nues, the annual income from
taxes, public rents, etc. Serii'pu-lous4y, carefully. As-sid'u-oiis,
constant in attention. Fi-nancje', the income of a ruler or a state.
5. Deficit, lack, want. Du-e'at, a gold coin worth about $2.00.
6. De-f ault'er, one who fails to account for public money intrusted
to his care. 9. Qb f vi-ou&-ly, plainly. In-june'tion, a command.
62 ECLECTIC SERIES.
X. ROBIN REDBREAST.
William Allingham (6. 1828, d. 1889) was born at Ballyshannon, Ire-
land. His father was a banker, and gave him a good education in Irish
schools. He showed his literary tastes at an early date, contributing to
periodicals, etc. In 1850 he published his first volume of poems ; in 1854
his "Day and Night Songs" appeared, and in 1864 a poem in twelve
chapters entitled "Lawrence Bloomfield in Ireland." His reputation was
established chiefly through his shorter lyrics, or ballad poetry. In 1864 he
received a literary pension.
1. GOOD-BY, good-by to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our thrushes now are silent,
Our swallows flown away,
But Robin's here in coat of brown,
And scarlet breastknot gay.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin sings so sweetly
In the falling of the year.
2. Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian princes,
But soon they '11 turn to ghosts ;
The leathery pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough;
It's autumn, autumn, autumn late,
'Twill soon be winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And what will this poor Robin do?
For pinching days are near.
FIFTH READER. 6S
3. The fireside for the cricket,
The wheat stack for the mouse,
When trembling night winds whistle
And moan all round the house.
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow,
Alas! in winter dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Kobin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.
NOTE. The Old World Robin here referred to is quite differ-
ent in appearance and habits from the American Robin. It is
only about half the size of the latter. Its prevailing color
above is olive green, while the forehead, cheeks, throat, and
breast are a light yellowish red. It does not migrate, but is
found at all seasons throughout temperate Europe, Asia Minor,
and northern Africa.
XL THE PISH I DID N'T CATCH.
John Greenleaf Whittier was born near Haverhill, Mass., in 1807, and
died at Hampton Falls, N.H., in 1892. His boyhood was passed on a farm,
and he never received a classical education. In 1829 he edited a news-
paper in Boston. In the following year he removed to Hartford, Conn.,
to assume a similar position. In 1836 he edited an antislavery paper
in Philadelphia. In 1840 he removed to Amesbury, Mass. Mr. Whittier's
parents were Friends, and he always held to the same faith. He wrote
extensively both in prose and verse. As a poet, he ranked among those
most highly esteemed and honored by his countrymen. " Snow Bound "
is one of the longest and best of his poems.
1. OUR bachelor uncle who lived with us was a quiet,
genial man, much given to hunting and fishing ; and it was
one of the pleasures of our young life to accompany him
on his expeditions to Great Hill, Brandy-brow Woods, the
64 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Pond, and, best of all, to the Country Brook. We were
quite willing to work hard in the cornfield or the haying
lot to finish the necessary day's labor in season for an
afternoon stroll through the woods and along the brook-
side.
2. I remember my first fishing excursion as if it were
but yesterday. I have been happy many times in my life,
but never more intensely so than when I received that first
fishing pole from my uncle's hand, and trudged off with
him through the woods and meadows. It was a still,
sweet day of early summer; the long afternoon shadows
of the trees lay cool across our path; the leaves seemed
greener, the flowers brighter, the birds merrier, than ever
before.
3. My uncle, who knew by long experience where were
the best haunts of pickerel, considerately placed me at the
most favorable point. I threw out my line as I had so
often seen others, and waited anxiously for a bite, moving
the bait in rapid jerks on the surface of the water in
imitation of the leap of a frog. Nothing came of it.
" Try again/' said my uncle. Suddenly the bait sank out
of sight. "Now for it," thought I; "here is a fish at
last."
4. I made a strong pull, and brought up a tangle of
weeds. Again and again I cast out my line with aching
arms, and drew it back empty. I looked at my uncle
appealingly. "Try once more," he said; "we fishermen
must have patience."
5. Suddenly something tugged at my line, and swept off
with it into deep water. Jerking it up, I saw a fine pick-
erel wriggling in the sun. " Uncle ! " I cried, looking back
in uncontrollable excitement, "I've got a fish!" "Not
yet," said my uncle. As he spoke there was a plash in
the water; I caught the arrowy gleam of a scared fish
shooting into the middle of the stream, my hook hung
empty from the line. I had lost my prize.
FIFTH READER.
65
6. We are apt to speak of the sorrows of childhood as
trifles in comparison with those of grown-up people; but
we may depend upon it the young folks don't agree with
us. Our griefs, modified and restrained by reason, ex-
66 ECLECTIC SERIES.
perience, and self-respect, keep the proprieties, and, if
possible, avoid a scene; but the sorrow of childhood, un-
reasoning and all-absorbing, is a complete abandonment
to the passion. The doll's nose is broken, and the world
breaks up with it; the marble rolls out of sight, and the
solid globe rolls off with the marble.
7. So, overcome with my great and bitter disappoint-
ment, I sat down on the nearest hassock, and for a time
/1-efused to be comforted, even by my uncle's assurance
that there were more fish in the brook. He refitted my
bait, and, putting the pole again in my hands, told me to
try my luck once more.
8. " But remember, boy," he said, with his shrewd smile,
" never brag of catching a fish until he is on dry ground.
I've seen older folks doing that in more ways than one,
and so making fools of themselves. It's no use to boast
of anything until it 's done, nor then, either, for it speaks
for itself."
9. How often since I have been reminded of the fish
that I did not catch. When I hear people boasting of a
work as yet undone, and trying to anticipate the credit
which belongs only to actual achievement, I call to mind
that scene by the brookside, and the wise caution of my
uncle in that particular instance takes the form of a prov-
erb of universal application : " NEVER BRAG OF YOUR FISH
BEFORE YOU CATCH HIM."
DEFINITIONS. 1. Gen'ial, cheerful. 3. Haunts, places fre-
quently visited. Con-sld'er-ate-ly, with due regard to others, kindly
thoughtful. 4. Ap-peal'ing-ly, as though asking for aid. 6. Mod'-
i-fied, qualified, lessened. Propri'e-tieg, fixed customs or rules of
conduct. Ab-s6rb'ing, engaging the attention entirely. 7. Has'-
sock, a raised mound of turf. 9. An-tl9'i-pate, to take before the
proper time. A-chieve'ment, performance, deed.
FIFTH READER. 67
XII. IT SNOWS.
Sarah Josepha Hale (6. 1788 ?, d. 1879) was born in Newport, N.H. Her
maiden name was Buell. In 1814 she married David Hale, an eminent
lawyer, who died in 1822. Left with five children to support, she turned
her attention to literature. In 1828 she became editor of the " Ladies'
Magazine." In 1837 this periodical was united with " Godey's Lady's
Book," of which Mrs. Hale was literary editor for more than forty years.
1. " IT snows ! " cries the Schoolboy, " Hurrah ! " and his
shout
Is ringing through parlor and hall,
While swift as the wing of a swallow, he 's out,
And his playmates have answered his call;
It makes the heart leap but to witness their joy ;
Proud wealth has no pleasures, I trow,
Like the rapture that throbs in the pulse of the boy
As he gathers his treasures of snow;
Then lay not the trappings of gold on thine heirs,
While health and the riches of nature are theirs.
2. " It snows ! " sighs the Imbecile, " Ah ! " and his breath
Comes heavy, as clogged with a weight;
While, from the pale aspect of nature in death,
He turns to the blaze of his grate;
And nearer and nearer, his soft-cushioned chair
Is wheeled toward the life-giving flame;
He dreads a chill puff of the snow-burdened air,
Lest it wither his delicate frame ;
Oh ! small is the pleasure existence can give,
When the fear we shall die only proves that we live !
3. " It snows ! " cries the Traveler, " Ho ! " and the word
Has quickened his steed's lagging pace;
The wind rushes by, but its howl is unheard,
Unfelt the sharp drift in his face;
For bright through the tempest his own home appeared,
Ay, though leagues intervened, he can see:
68 ECLECTIC SERIES.
There 's the clear, glowing hearth, and the table prepared,
And his wife with her babes at her knee;
Blest thought! how it lightens the grief -laden hour,
That those we love dearest are safe from its power!
4. "It snows ! " cries the Belle, "Dear, how lucky ! " and turns
From her mirror to watch the flakes fall,
Like the first rose of summer, her dimpled cheek burns,
While musing on sleigh ride and ball :
There are visions of conquests, of splendor, and mirth,
Floating over each drear winter's day ;
But the tintings of Hope, on this storm-beaten earth,
Will melt like the snowflakes away.
Turn, turn thee to Heaven, fair maiden, for bliss ;
That world has a pure fount ne'er opened in this.
5. " It snows ! " cries the Widow, " God ! " and her sighs
Have stifled the voice of her prayer;
Its burden ye '11 read in her tear-swollen eyes,
On her cheek sunk with fasting and care.
'Tis night, and her fatherless ask her for bread,
But "He gives the young ravens their food,"
And she trusts till her dark hearth adds horror to dread,
And she lays on her last chip of wood.
Poor sufferer! that sorrow thy God only knows;
'Tis a most bitter lot to be poor when it snows.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Trow, to think, to believe. Trap'pings, orna-
ments. 2. Im'be-9lle, one who is feeble either in body or mind. 3. In-
ter- vened', were situated between. 4. Mus/ing, thinking in an
absent-minded way. Con'quests, triumphs, successes. Tint'ingg,
slight colorings, 5. Sti'fled, choked, suppressed.
REMARK. Avoid reading this piece in a monotonous style.
Try to express the actual feeling of each quotation; and enter
into the descriptions with spirit.
FIFTH READER.
XIIL RESPECT FOR THE SABBATH REWARDED.
1. IN the city of Bath, not many years since, lived a
barber who made a practice of following his ordinary occu-
pation on the Lord's day. As he was on the way to his
morning's employment, he happened to look into some
place of worship just as the minister was giving out his
text "Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy." He
listened long enough to be convinced that he was constantly
breaking the laws of God and man by shaving and dressing
his customers on the Lord's day. He became uneasy, and
went with a heavy heart to his Sabbath task.
2. At length he took courage, and opened his mind to
his minister, who advised him to give up Sabbath work,
and worship God. He replied that beggary would be the
consequence. He had a nourishing trade, but it would
almost all be lost. At length, after many a sleepless
night spent in weeping and praying, he was determined
to cast all his care upon God, as the more he reflected, the
more his duty became apparent.
3. He discontinued his Sabbath work, went constantly
and early to the public services of religion, and soon en-
joyed that satisfaction of mind which is one of the rewards
of doing our duty, and that peace which the world can
neither give nor take away. The consequences he foresaw
actually followed. His genteel customers left him, and he
was nicknamed " Puritan " or " Methodist." He was obliged
to give up his fashionable shop, and, in the course of years,
became so reduced as to take a cellar under the old market
house and shave the poorer people.
4. One Saturday evening, between light and dark, a
stranger from one of the coaches, asking for a barber, was
directed by the hostler to the cellar opposite. Coming in
hastily, he requested to be shaved quickly, while they
changed horses, as he did not like to violate the Sabbath.
70 ECLECTIC SERIES.
This was touching the barber on a tender chord. He burst
into tears ; asked the stranger to lend him a half -penny to
buy a candle, as it was not light enough to shave him with
safety. He did so, revolving in his mind the extreme pov-
erty to which the poor man must be reduced.
5. When shaved, he said, "There must be something
extraordinary in your history, which I have not now time
to hear. Here is half a crown for you. When I return,
I will call and investigate your case. What is your name ? "
"William Reed/' said the astonished barber. "William
Reed?" echoed the stranger: "William Reed? by your
dialect you are from the West." "Yes, sir, from Kings-
ton, near Taunton." "William Reed from Kingston, near
Taunton? What was your father's name?" "Thomas."
"Had he any brother?" "Yes, sir, one, after whom I
was named; but he went to the Indies, and, as we never
heard from him, we supposed him to be dead."
6. "Come along, follow me," said the stranger, "I am
going to see a person who says his name is William Reed,
of Kingston, near Taunton. Come and confront him. If
you prove to be indeed he who you say you are, I have
glorious news for you. Your uncle is dead, and has left
an immense fortune, which I will put you in possession of
when all legal doubts are removed."
7. They went by the coach ; saw the pretended William
Reed, and proved him to be an impostor. The stranger,
who was a pious attorney, was soon legally satisfied of the
barber's identity, and told him that he had advertised him
in vain. Providence had now thrown him in his way in a
most extraordinary manner, and he had great pleasure in
transferring a great many thousand pounds to a worthy
man, the rightful heir of the property. Thus was man's
extremity God's opportunity. Had the poor barber pos-
sessed one half-penny, or even had credit for a candle, he
might have remained unknown for years; but he trusted
God, who never said, " Seek ye my face," in vain.
FIFTH READER. 71
DEFINITIONS. 2. Ap-par'ent, clear, plain. 3. Gen-teel', fash-
ionable, elegant. Re-du^ed', brought to poverty. 4. Vi'o-late, to
break, to profane. 5. In-ves'ti-gate, to inquire into with care. Dl'a-
leet, a local form of speech. 6. Con-front', to face, to stand before.
7. At-tor'ney (pro. at-tur'ny), a lawyer. I-den'ti-ty,' the condition
of being the same as something claimed. Trans-ier'ring, making
over the possession of. Ex-trem'i-ty, greatest need. Op-por-tu'-
ni-ty, favorable time.
XIV. THE SANDS O' DEE.
Charles Kingsley (6.1819, d. 1875) was born at Holne, Devonshire, Eng-
land. He took his bachelor's degree at Cambridge in 1842, and soon after
entered the Church. His writings are quite voluminous, including ser-
mons, lectures, novels, fairy tales, and poems, published in book form,
besides numerous miscellaneous sermons and magazine articles. He was
an earnest worker for bettering the condition of the working classes, and
this object was the basis of most of his writings. As a lyric poet he has
gained a high place. The " Saint's Tragedy " and " Andromeda " are the
most pretentious of his poems, and "Alton Locke" and "Hypatia" are
his best known novels.
"L U O MARY, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee ! "
The western wind was wild and dank with foam,
And all alone went she.
2. The creeping tide came up along the sand,
And o'er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see;
The blinding mist came down and hid the land
And never home came she.
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3. Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair?
A tress o' golden hair,
O' drowned maiden's hair,
Above the nets at sea.
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes on Dee.
4. They rowed her in across the rolling foam,
The cruel, crawling foam,
The cruel, hungry foam,
To her grave beside the sea;
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,
Across the sands o' Dee.
NOTES. The Sands o' Dee. The Dee is a river of Scotland,
noted for its salmon fisheries.
O 1 is a contraction for of, commonly used by the Scotch.
REMARK. The first three lines of each stanza deserve special
attention in reading. The final words are nearly or quite the
same, but the expression of each line should vary. The piece
should be read in a low key and with a pure, musical tone.
XV. SELECT PABAGBAPHS.
1. O GIVE thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name;
make known his deeds among the people. Sing unto him ;
sing psalms unto him; talk ye of all his wondrous works.
Glory ye in his holy name; let the heart of them rejoice
that seek the Lord. Remember his marvelous works that
he hath done; his wonders, and the judgments of his
mouth.
2. Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all
the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.
When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers ; the
FIFTH READER. 73
moon and the stars which thou hast ordained; what is
man, that thou art mindful of him ? and the son of man,
that thou visitest him ? For thou hast made him a little
lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory
and honor. Thou madest him to have dominion over the
work of thy hands ; thou hast put all things under his
feet. Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all
the earth !
3. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my for-
tress, my God ; in him will I trust. Because he hath set
his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him : I will set
him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall
call upon me, and I will answer him ; I will be with him
in trouble ; I will deliver him, and honor him. With long
life will I satisfy him, and show him my salvation.
4. come, let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily
rejoice in the strength of our salvation. Let us come before
his presence with thanksgiving, and show ourselves glad
in him with psalms. For the Lord is a great God, and
a great King above all gods. worship the Lord in the
beauty of holiness; let the whole earth stand in awe of
him. For he cometh, for he cometh, to judge the earth;
and with righteousness to judge the world, and the people
with his truth.
5. Oh that men would praise the Lord for his goodness,
and for his wonderful works to the children of men ! They
that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great
waters ; these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders
in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy
wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up
to the heaven; they go down again to the depths; their
soul is melted because of trouble; they reel to and fro,
and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's
end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and
he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the
storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then
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are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them
unto their desired haven. Oh that men would praise the
Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the
children of men !
6. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He
maketh me to lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me
beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul ; he leadeth
me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea,
though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; for thou art with me: thy rod and
thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before
me in the presence of mine enemies ; thou anointest my
head with oil ; my cup runneth over. Surely, goodness
and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and
I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Bible.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Mar'vel-oiis, wonderful. 2. Or-dained', ap-
pointed, established. Do-min'ion (pro. do-min'yun), supreme power.
5. Ha VCD, d harbor y a place where ships can lie in safety.
XVI. THE CORN SONG.
HEAP high the farmer's wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!
No richer gift has Autumn poured
From out her lavish horn!
2. Let other lands, exulting, glean
The apple from the pine,
The orange from its glossy green,
The cluster from the vine;
FIFTH READER. 75
3. We better love the hardy gift
Our rugged vales bestow,
To cheer us, when the storm shall drift
Our harvest fields with snow.
4. Through vales of grass and meads of flowers,
Our plows their furrows made,
While on the hills the sun and showers
Of changeful April played.
5. We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,
Beneath the sun of May,
And frightened from our sprouting grain
The robber crows away.
6. All through the long, bright days of June,
Its leaves grew green and fair,
And waved in hot midsummer's noon
Its soft and yellow hair.
7. And now, with Autumn's moonlit eves,
Its harvest time has come;
We pluck away the frosted leaves
And bear the treasure home.
8. There, richer than the fabled gift
Apollo showered of old,
Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,
And knead its meal of gold.
9. Let vapid idlers loll in silk,
Around their costly board;
Give us the bowl of samp and milk,
By homespun beauty poured!
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10. Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth
Sends up its smoky curls,
Who will not thank the kindly earth
And bless our farmer girls!
11. Then shame on all the proud and vain,
Whose folly laughs to scorn
The blessing of our hardy grain,
Our wealth of golden corn!
12. Let earth withhold her goodly root;
Let mildew blight the rye,
Give to the worm the orchard's fruit,
The wheat field to the fly:
13. But let the good old crop adorn
The hills our fathers trod;
Still let us, for his golden corn,
Send up our thanks to God!
From Whittier's " Songs of Labor."
DEFINITIONS. 1. Hoard, a large quantity of anything laid up.
Lav'ish, profuse. 4. Meads, meadows. 9. Vap'id, spiritless, dulL
Samp, bruised corn cooked by boiling.
NOTE. 8. According to the ancient fable, Apollo, the god of
music, sowed the isle of Delos, his birthplace, with golden flowers,
by the music of his lyre.
FIFTH READER. 77
XVH. THE VENOMOUS WORM.
John Russell (6. 1793, d. 1863) graduated at Middlebury College, Vt., in
1818. He was at one time editor of the " Backwoodsman," published at
Grafton, 111., and later of the " Louisville Advocate." He was the author
of many tales of western adventure and of numerous essays, sketches,
etc. His language is clear, chaste, and classical ; his style concise, vigor-
ous, and sometimes highly ornate.
1. WHO has not heard of the rattlesnake or copperhead ?
An unexpected sight of either of these reptiles will make
even the lords of creation recoil j but there is a species of
worm, found in various parts of this country, which conveys
a poison of a nature so deadly that, compared with it,
even the venom of the rattlesnake is harmless. To guard
our readers against this foe of human kind is the object
of this lesson.
2. This worm varies much in size. It is frequently an
inch in diameter, but, as it is rarely seen except when
coiled, its length can hardly be conjectured. It is of a
dull lead color, and generally lives near a spring or small
stream of water, and bites the unfortunate people who are
in the habit of going there to drink. The brute creation it
never molests. They avoid it with the same instinct that
teaches the animals of India to shun the deadly cobra.
3. Several of these reptiles have long infested our settle-
ments, to the misery and destruction of many of our fellow-
citizens. I have, therefore, had frequent opportunities of
being the melancholy spectator of the effects produced by
the subtile poison which this worm infuses.
4. The symptoms of its bite are terrible. The eyes of
the patient become red and fiery, his tongue swells to an
immoderate size, and obstructs his utterance ; and delirium
of the most horrid character quickly follows. Sometimes,
in his madness, he attempts the destruction of his nearest
friends.
5. If the sufferer has a family, his weeping wife and
helpless infants are not unfrequently the objects of his
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frantic fury. In a word, he exhibits, to the life, all the
detestable passions that rankle in the bosom of a savage ;
and such is the spell in which his senses are locked, that
no sooner has the unhappy patient recovered from the
paroxysm of insanity occasioned by the bite, than he
seeks out the destroyer for the sole purpose of being bitten
again.
6. I have seen a good old father, his locks as white as
snow, his step slow and trembling, beg in vain of his only
son to quit the lurking place of the worm. My heart bled
when he turned away ; for I knew the fond hope that his
son would be the " staff of his declining years," had sup-
ported him through many a sorrow.
7. Youths of America, would you know the name of
this reptile ? It is called the WORM OF THE STILL.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Rep'tile, animals that crawly as snakes, liz-
ards, etc. Re-eoil', to start back, to shrink from. 2. Co'bra, a
highly venomous reptile inhabiting the East Indies. In-fest'ed,
troubled, annoyed. 3. Sub'tile, acute, piercing. In-fus'es, intro-
duces. 4. Ob-struets', hinders. De-lir'i-um, a wandering of the
mind. 5. Ran'kle, to rage. Par'ox-ysm, a fit, a convulsion.
7. WSrm, a spiral metallic pipe used in distilling liquors. Still, a
vessel used in distilling or making liquors.
XVIII. THE FESTAL BOARD.
1. COME to the festal board to-night,
For bright-eyed beauty will be there,
Her coral lips in nectar steeped,
And garlanded her hair.
2. Come to the festal board to-night,
For there the joyous laugh of youth
Will ring those silvery peals, which speak
Of bosom pure and stainless truth.
FIFTB READER. 71
3. Come to the festal board to-night,
For friendship, there, with stronger chain.
Devoted hearts already bound
For good or ill, will bind again.
/ went.
4. Nature and art their stores outpoured;
Joy beamed in every kindling glance;
Love, friendship, youth, and beauty smiled;
What could that evening's bliss enhance?
We parted.
6. And years have flown; but where are now
The guests who round that table met?
Rises their sun as gloriously
As on the banquet's eve it set?
6. How holds the chain which friendship wove?
It broke; and soon the hearts it bound
Were widely sundered; and for peace,
Envy and strife and blood were found.
7. The merriest laugh which then was heard
Has changed its tones to maniac screams,
As half-quenched memory kindles up
Glimmerings of guilt in feverish dreams.
8. And where is she whose diamond eyes
Golconda's purest gems outshone?
Whose roseate lips of Eden breathed?
Say, where is she, the beauteous one?
9. Beneath yon willow's drooping shade,
With eyes now dim, and lips all pale,
She sleeps in peace. Read on her urn,
"A broken heart." This tells her taid,
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10. And where is he, that tower of strength,
Whose fate with hers for life was joined?
How beats his heart, once honor's throne ?
How high has soared his daring mind?
11. Go to the dungeon's gloom to-night;
His wasted form, his aching head,
And all that now remains of him,
Lies, shuddering, on a felon's bed.
12. Ask you of all these woes the cause?
The festal board, the enticing bowl,
More often came, and reason fled,
And maddened passions spurned control.
13. Learn wisdom, then. The frequent feast
Avoid; for there, with stealthy tread
Temptation walks, to lure you on,
Till death, at last, the banquet spread.
14. And shun, oh shun, the enchanted cup !
Though now its draught like joy appears,
Ere long it will be fanned by sighs,
And sadly mixed with blood and tears.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Fes'tal, mirthful, joyous. Gar'land-ed,
adorned with wreaths of flowers. 3. De-vot'ed, solemnly set apart.
4. En-hancX, increase. 6. Sun'dered, separated. 7. Glim'mer-
ing, faint views, glimpses. 8. Ro'se-ate, blooming, rosy. 11. Fel'on,
a public criminal. 12. En-ti9'ing, attracting to evil. Spurned,
rejected with disdain. 13. Lure, to attract, to entice. 14. En-
chant'ed, affected with enchantment, bewitched.
NOTES. 8. Golconda is an ancient city and fortress of India,
formerly renowned for its diamonds. They were merely cut
and polished there, however, being generally brought from Par-
teall, a city farther south.
FIFTH READER. 81
XIX. HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.
Mr. H. and the Steward.
Mr. H. HA ! Steward, how are you, my old boy ? How
do things go on at home ?
Steward. Bad enough, your honor ; the magpie 's dead.
H. Poor Mag ! So he 's gone. How came he to die ?
S. Overeat himself, sir.
H. Did he? A greedy dog; why, what did he get he
liked so well ?
S. Horseflesh, sir; he died of eating horseflesh.
H. How came he to get so much horseflesh?
S. All your father's horses, sir.
H. What ! are they dead, too ?
S. Ay, sir; they died of overwork.
H. And why were they overworked, pray ?
S. To carry water, sir.
H. To carry water ! and what were they carrying water
for?
S. Sure, sir, to put out the fire.
H. Fire! what fire?
S. 0, sir, your father's house is burned to the ground.
H. My father's house burned down! and how came it
set on fire ?
S. I think, sir, it must have been the torches.
H. Torches ! what torches ?
S. At your mother's funeral.
H. My mother dead !
S. Ah, poor lady! she never looked up, after it.
E. After what ?
S. The loss of your father.
H. My father gone, too?
S. Yes, poor gentleman ! he took to his bed as soon as
he heard of it.
(6. 6.)
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H. Heard of what ?
S. The bad news, sir, and please your honor.
H. What! more miseries! more bad news!
S. Yes, sir; your bank has failed, and your credit is
lost, and you are not worth a shilling in the world. I
made bold, sir, to wait on you about it, for I thought you
would like to hear the news.
XX. THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM.
Robert Southey (6. 1774, d. 1843) was born in Bristol, England. He
entered Balliol College, Oxford, in 1793. In 1804 he established himself
permanently at Greta Hall, near Keswick, Cumberland, in the " Lake
Country," where he enjoyed the friendship and society of Wordsworth
and Coleridge, other poets of the "Lake School." He was appointed
poet laureate in 1813, and received a pension of 300 a year from the gov-
ernment in 1835. Mr. Southey was a voluminous writer in both prose
and verse. As a poet, he can not be placed in the first rank, although
some of his minor poems are very happy in thought and expression.
Among his most noted poetical works are " Joan of Arc," " Thalaba the
Destroyer," " Madoc," " Roderick," and the " Curse of Kehama."
1. IT was a summer evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he, before his cottage door,
Was sitting in the sun;
And by him sported on the green,
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
2. She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round,
Which he beside the rivulet,
In playing there, had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.
FIFTH KEADEB. 83
3. Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And, with a natural sigh,
"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
*Who fell in the great victory.
4. "I find them in the garden,
For there's many hereabout;
And often when I go to plow,
The plowshare turns them out;
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory."
5. "Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
Young Peterkin he cries;
While little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they killed each other for."
6. "It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout,
But what they killed each other for,
I could not well make out;
But everybody said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory:
7. "My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream, hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So, with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.
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8. "With fire and sword, the country round
Was wasted, far and wide;
And many a nursing mother then,
And newborn baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
9. "They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun:
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.
10. "Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won,
And our young prince, Eugene."
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.
"Nay, nay, my little girl!" quoth he,
"It was a famous victory.
11. "And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.
"Why, that I can not tell," said he,
" But 't was a glorious victory."
NOTES. The Battle of Blenheim, in the "War of the Spanish
Succession," was fought August 13, 1704, near Blenheim, in
Bavaria, between the French and Bavarians, on one side, and
an allied army under the great English general, the Duke of
Marlborough, and Eugene, Prince of Savoy, on the other. The
latter won a decisive victory : 10,000 of the defeated army were
iiJled and wounded, and 13,000 were taken prisoner*.
FIFTH READER. 85
XXI. "I PITY THEM."
1. A POOR man once undertook to emigrate from Castine,
Me., to Illinois. When he was attempting to cross a river
in New York, his horse broke through the rotten timbers
of the bridge, and was drowned. He had but this one
animal to convey all his property and his family to his
new home.
2. His wife and children were almost miraculously saved
from sharing the fate of the horse; but the loss of this
poor animal was enough. By its aid the family, it may be
said, had lived and moved ; now they were left helpless in
a land of strangers, without the ability to go on or return,
without money or a single friend to whom to appeal. The
case was a hard one.
3. There were a great many who "passed by on the
other side." Some even laughed at the predicament in
which the man was placed; but by degrees a group of
people began to collect, all of whom pitied him.
4. Some pitied him a great deal, and some did not pity
him very much, because, they said, he might have known
better than to try to cross an unsafe bridge, and should
have made his horse swim the river. Pity, however,
seemed rather to predominate. Some pitied the man, and
some the horse; all pitied the poor, sick mother and her
six helpless children.
5. Among this pitying party was a rough son of the
West, who knew what it was to migrate some hundreds of
miles over new roads to locate a destitute family on a
prairie. Seeing the man's forlorn situation, and looking
around on the bystanders, he said, "All of you seem to
pity these poor people very much, but I would beg leave
to ask each of you how much."
6. "There, stranger," continued he, holding up a ten-
dollar bill, " there is the amount of my pity ; and if others
86
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will do as I do, you may soon get another pony. God
bless you." It is needless to state the effect that this
active charity produced. In a short time the happy emi-
grant arrived at his destination, and he is now a thriving
farmer, and a neighbor to him who was his " friend in need,
and a friend indeed."
DEFINITIONS. 1. Em'i-grate, to remove from one country or
state to another for the purpose of residence, to migrate. 2. Mi-
rae'u-lous-ly, as if by miracle, wonderfully. A-bil'i-ty, power, ca-
pability. 3. Pre-dle'a-ment, condition, plight. 4. Pre-dom'i-nate,
to prevail, to rule. 5. Lo'eate, to place. Des'ti-tute, needy, poor.
6. Des-ti-na'tion, end of a journey. Thriv'ing, prosperous through
industry, economy, and good management.
FIFTH READER. 87
XXII. AN ELEGY ON MADAM BLAIZE.
Oliver Goldsmith (6. 1728, d. 1774) was born at Pallas, or Pallasmore,
in the parish of Forney, Ireland. He received his education at several
schools, at Trinity College, Dublin, at Edinburgh, and at Leyden. He
spent some time in wandering over continental Europe, often in poverty
and want. In 1756 he became a resident of London, where he made the
acquaintance of several celebrated men, among whom were Dr. Johnson
and Sir Joshua Reynolds. His writings are noted for their purity, grace,
and fluency. His fame as a poet is secured by " The Traveler," and " The
Deserted Village ; " as a dramatist, by " She Stoops to Conquer; " and as
a novelist, by "The Vicar of Wakefield." His reckless extravagance
always kept him in financial difficulty, and he died heavily in debt.
His monument is in Westminster Abbey.
1. GOOD people all, with, one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.
2. The needy seldom passed her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor
Who left a pledge behind.
3. She strove the neighborhood to please,
With manner wondrous winning:
She never followed wicked ways
Unless when she was sinning.
4. At church, in silks and satin new,
With hoop of monstrous size,
She never slumbered in her pew
But when she shut her eyes.
5. Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has followed her
When she has walked before.
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6. But now, her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all,
Her doctors found, when she was dead
Her last disorder mortal.
7. Let us lament, in sorrow sore;
For Kent Street well may say,
That, had she lived a twelvemonth more
She had not died to-day.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ae-eord', agreement of opinion, consent,
2. Pledge, personal property delivered to another as a security for
a debt. 6. Hang'er-6n,/o#ou?ers. Mor'tal, destructive to life.
XXIH. KING CHARLES II. AND WILLIAM PENN.
King Charles. WELL, friend William ! I have sold you
a noble province in North America; but still, I suppose
you have no thoughts of going thither yourself ?
Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, friend Charles; and
I am just come to bid thee farewell.
K. C. What! venture yourself among the savages of
North America ! Why, man, what security have you that
you will not be in their war kettle in two hours after setting
foot on their shores ?
P. The best security in the world.
K. C. I doubt that, friend William ; I have no idea of
any security against those cannibals but in a regiment of
good soldiers, with their muskets and bayonets. And mind,
I tell you beforehand, that, with all my good will for you
and your family, to whom I am under obligations, I will
not send a single soldier with you.
FIFTH READER. 8tJ
P. I want none of thy soldiers, Charles : I depend on
something better than thy soldiers.
K. C. Ah ! what may that be ?
P. Why, I depend upon themselves; on the working
of their own hearts; on their notions of justice; on their
moral sense.
K. C. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt ;
but I fear you will not find much of it among the Indians
of North America.
P. And why not among them as well as others ?
K. C. Because if they had possessed any, they would
not have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have
done.
P. That is no proof of the contrary, friend Charles.
Thy subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first
went to North America, they found these poor people the
fondest and kindest creatures in the world. Every day
they would watch for them to come ashore, and hasten to
meet them, and feast them on the best fish, and venison,
and corn, which were all they had. In return for this
hospitality of the savages, as we call them, thy subjects,
termed Christians, seized on their country and rich hunting
grounds for farms for themselves. Now, is it to be won-
dered at, that these much-injured people should have been
driven to desperation by such injustice ; and that, burning
with revenge, they should have committed some excesses ?
K. C. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when
they come to treat you in the same manner.
P. I am not afraid of it.
K. C. Ah ! how will you avoid it ? You mean to get
their hunting grounds, too, I suppose ?
P. Yes, but not by driving these poor people away
from them.
K. C. No, indeed? How then will you get their
lands ?
P I mean to buy their lands of them.
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K. G. Buy their lands of them ? Why, man, you have
already bought them of me !
P. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too ; but
I did it only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou
hadst any right to their lands.
K. O. How, man ? no right to their lands ?
P. No, friend Charles, no right ; no right at all : what
right hast thou to their lands ?
K. C. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure; the
right which the Pope and all Christian kings have agreed
to give one another.
P. The right of discovery? A strange kind of right,
indeed. Now suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe load
of these Indians, crossing the sea, a,nd discovering this
island of Great Britain, were to claim it as their own, and
set it up for sale over thy head, what wouldst thou think
of it?
K. C. Why why why I must confess, I should
think it a piece of great impudence in them.
P. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a
Christian prince, too, do that which thou so utterly con-
demnest in these people whom thou callest savages ? And
suppose, again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give
up thy island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee,
and, having weapons more destructive than thine, were to
destroy many of thy subjects, and drive the rest away
wouldst thou not think it horribly cruel ?
K. C. I must say, friend William, that I should ; how
can I say otherwise ?
P. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian,
do what I should abhor even in the heathen ? No. I will
not do it. But I will buy the right of the proper owners,
even of the Indians themselves. By doing this, I shall
imitate God himself in his justice and mercy, and thereby
insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live to
plant one in North America, _ Mason L . Weems .
FIFTH READER. 91
DEFINITIONS. Can'ni-bals, Tinman beings that eat human flesh.
Reg'i-ment, a body of troops, consisting usually of ten companies.
Ag-gress'ors, those who flrst commence hostilities. Ven'i-gon (pro.
ven'i-zn, or ven'zn), the flesh of deer. Ex-cess'es, misdeeds, evil
acts. Con-demn'est (pro. kon-dem'est), censure, blame.
NOTES. Charles II. was king of England from A.D. 1660 to
1685. William Penn (b. 1644, d. 1718) was a noted Englishman
who belonged to the sect of Friends. He came to America in
1682, and founded the province which is now the state of Penn-
sylvania. He purchased the lands from the Indians, who were
so impressed with the justice and good will of Penn and his
associates, that the Quaker dress often served as a sure protec-
tion when other settlers were trembling for their lives.
XXIV. WHAT I LIVE FOB.
1. I LIVE for those who love me,
Whose hearts are kind and true;
For the heaven that smiles above me,
And awaits my spirit, too;
For all human ties that bind me,
For the task my God assigned me,
For the bright hopes left behind me,
And the good that I can do.
2. I live to learn their story,
Who suffered for my sake;
To emulate their glory,
And follow in their wake;
Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages,
The noble of all ages,
Whose deeds crown History's pages,
And Time's great volume make.
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3. I live to hail that season,
By gifted minds foretold,
When man shall live by reason,
And not alone by gold;
When man to man united,
And every wrong thing righted,
The whole world shall be lighted
As Eden was of old.
4. I live for those who love me,
For those who know me true;
For the heaven that smiles above me,
And awaits my spirit, too;
For the cause that needs assistance,
For the wrongs that need resistance,
For the future in the distance,
And the good that I can do.
DEFINITIONS. 1. As-signed' ( pro. as-sind'), allotted, marked out.
2. Em'-u-late, to strive to equal or excel, to rival. Wake, the track
left by a vessel in the water, hence, figuratively, in the train of.
Bard, a poet. Mar'tyr, one who sacrifices what is of great value to
him for the sake of principle. Sage, a wis< man. 3. Hail, to salute.
XXV. THE RIGHTEOUS NEVER FORSAKEN.
1. IT was Saturday night, and the widow of the Pine
Cottage sat by her blazing fagots, with her five tattered
children at her side, endeavoring by listening to the art-
lessness of their prattle to dissipate the heavy gloom that
pressed upon her mind. For a year, her own feeble hand
had provided for her helpless family, for she had no sup-
porter : she thought of no friend in all the wide, unfriendly
world around.
FIFTH READER. 93
2. But that mysterious Providence, the wisdom of whose
ways is above human comprehension, had visited her with
wasting sickness, and her little means had become ex-
hausted. It was now, too, midwinter, and the scow lay
heavy and deep through all the surrounding forests, while
storms still seemed gathering in the heavens, and the driv-
ing wind roared amid the neighboring pines, and rocked
her puny mansion.
3. The last herring smoked upon the coals before her;
it was the only article of food she possessed, and no won-
der her forlorn, desolate state brought up in her lone
bosom all the anxieties of a mother when she looked upon
her children: and no wonder, forlorn as she was, if she
suffered the heart swellings of despair to rise, even though
she knew that He, whose promise is to the widow and to
the orphan, can not forget his word.
4. Providence had many years before taken from hei
her eldest son, who went from his forest home to try his
fortune on the high seas, since which she had heard no
tidings of him; and in her latter time had, by the hand
of death, deprived her of the companion and staff of her
earthly pilgrimage, in the person of her husband. Yet to
this hour she had upborne ; she had not only been able to
provide for her little flock, but had never lost an oppor-
tunity of ministering to the wants of the miserable and
destitute.
5. The indolent may well bear with poverty while the
ability to gain sustenance remains. The individual who
has but his own wants to supply may suffer with fortitude
the winter of want; his affections are not wounded, his
heart is not wrung. The most desolate in populous cities
may hope, for charity has not quite closed her hand and
heart, and shut her eyes on misery.
6. But the industrious mother of helpless and depending
children, far from the reach of human charity, has none of
these to console her. And such a one was the widow of
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the Pine Cottage ; but as she bent over the fire, and took
up the last scanty remnant of food to spread before her
children, her spirits seemed to brighten up, as by some sud-
den and mysterious impulse, and Cowper's beautiful lines
came uncalled across her mind :
" Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust him for his grace ;
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face,"
7. The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table,
when a gentle rap at the door, and the loud barking of a
dog, attracted the attention of the family. The children flew
to open it, and a weary traveler, in tattered garments and
in apparently indifferent health, entered, and begged a lodg-
ing and a mouthful of food. Said he : " It is now twenty-
four hours since I tasted bread." The widow's heart bled
anew, as under a fresh complication of distresses ; for her
sympathies lingered not around her fireside. She hesitated
not even now ; rest, and a share of all she had, she proffered
to the stranger. "We shall not be forsaken," said she,
" or suffer deeper for an act of charity."
8. The traveler drew near the board, but when he saw
the scanty fare, he raised his eyes toward heaven with
astonishment : " And is this all your store ? " said he ; " and
a share of this do you offer to one you know not? then
never saw I charity before! But, madam," said he, con-
tinuing, " do you not wrong your children by giving a part
of your last mouthful to a stranger ? "
9. "Ah," said the poor widow and the tear-drops gushed
into her eyes as she said it "I have a boy, a darling son,
somewhere on the face of the wide world, unless Heaven
has taken him away, and I only act toward you as I would
that others should act toward him. God, who sent manna
from heaven, can provide for us as he did for Israel ; and
how should I this night offend him, if my son should be a
wanderer, destitute as you, and he should have provided
FIFTH EVADER. 95
for him a home, even poor as this, were I to turn you un-
relieved away ! "
10. The widow ended, and the stranger, springing from
his seat, clasped her in his arms. "God indeed has pro-
vided youi son a home, and has given him wealth to re-
ward the goodness of his benefactress : my mother ! oh, my
mother ! " It was her long lost son, returned to her bosom
from the Indies. He had chosen that disguise that he
might the more completely surprise his family ; and never
was surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup of
DEFINITIONS. 1. Fag'ots, bundles of sticks used for fuel.
Prat'tle, trifling talk. Dis'si-pate, to scatter. 2. Pu'ny, small and
weak. 4. Pirgrira-age, a journey* 5. Sus'te-nan9e, that which
supports life. For'ti-tude, resolute endurance. 7. In-dif'fer-ent,
neither very good nor very bad. Com-pli-ea'tion, entanglement.
Sym'pa-thies, compassion. Proffered, offered to give. 9. Man'na,
food miraculously provided by God for the Israelites.
XXVI. ABOU BEN ADHEM.
James Henry Leigh Hunt (6. 1784, d. 1859) was the son of a West
Indian, who married an American lady, and practiced law in Phila-
delphia until the Revolution ; being a Tory, he then returned to England,
where Leigh Hunt was born. The latter wrote many verses while yet a
boy, and in 1801 his father published a collection of them, entitled "Ju-
venilia." For many years he was connected with various newspapers,
and, while editor of the " Examiner," was imprisoned for two years for
writing disrespectfully of the prince regent While in prison he was
visited frequently by the poets Byron, Moore, Lamb, Shelley, and Keats ;
and there wrote "The Feast of the Poets," "The Descent of Liberty, a
Mask," and "The Story of Rimini," which immediately gave him a rep-
utation as a poet. His writings include various translations, dramas,
novels, collections of essays, and poems.
1. ABOU BEX ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold.
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2. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold;
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, -"The names of those who love the Lord/'
3. "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
4. The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again, with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed ;
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
NOTE. The above selection is written in imitation of an
oriental fable.
XXVII. LUCY FORESTER.
John Wilson (&. 1785, d. 1854), better known as " Christopher North,"
was a celebrated author, poet, and critic, born at Paisley, Scotland, and
educated at the University of Glasgow and at Oxford. In 1808 he moved
to Westmoreland, England, where he formed one of the "Lake School"
of poets. While at Oxford he gained a prize for a poem on " Painting,
Poetry, and Architecture " In 1820 he became Professor of Moral Philoso-
phy in the University of Edinburgh, which position he retained until
1851. He gained his greatest reputation as the chief author of " Noctes
Ambrosianae," essays contributed to Blackwood's Magazine between 1822
and 1825. Among his poems may be mentioned "The Isle of Palms"
and the " City of the Plague." This selection is adapted from " The For-
esters," a tale of Scottish life.
1. LUCY was only six years old, but bold as a fairy ; she
had gone by herself a thousand times about the braes, and
often upon errands to houses two or three miles distant.
What had her parents to fear? The footpaths were all
firm, and led to no places of danger, nor are infants them-
selves incautious when alone in their pastimes. Lucy went
FIFTH READER. 97
singing into the low woods, and singing she reappeared on
the open hillside. With her small white hand on the rail,
she glided along the wooden bridge, or tripped from stone
to stone across the shallow streamlet.
2. The creature would be away for hours, and no fear be
felt on her account by anyone at home ; whether she had
gone, with her basket on her arm, to borrow some articles
of household use from a neighbor, or, merely for her own
solitary delight, had wandered off to the braes to play
among the flowers, coming back laden with wreaths and
garlands.
3. The happy child had been invited to pass a whole day,
from morning to night, at Ladyside (a farmhouse about two
miles off) with her playmates the Maynes; and she left
home about an hour after sunrise.
4. During her absence, the house was silent but happy,
and, the evening being now far advanced, Lucy was ex-
pected home every minute, and Michael, Agnes, and Isabel,
her father, mother, and aunt, went to meet her on the way.
They walked on and on, wondering a little, but in no degree
alarmed till they reached Ladyside, and heard the cheerful
din of the children within, still rioting at the close of the
holiday. Jacob Mayne came to the door, but, on their
kindly asking why Lucy had not been sent home before
daylight was over, he looked painfully surprised, and said
that she had not been at Ladyside.
5. Within two hours, a hundred persons were traversing
the hills in all directions, even at a distance which it
seemed most unlikely that poor Lucy could have reached.
The shepherds and their dogs, all the night through,
searched every nook, every stony and rocky place, every
piece of taller heather, every crevice that could conceal
anything alive or dead, but no Lucy was there.
6. Her mother, who for a while seemed inspired with
supernatural strength, had joined in the search, and with
a quaking heart looked into every brake, or stopped and
(6. 1.)
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listened to every shout and halloo reverberating among the
hills, intent to seize upon some tone of recognition or dis-
covery. But the moon sank ; and then the stars, whose
increased brightness had for a short time supplied her
place, all faded away ; and then came the gray dawn of the
morning, and then the clear brightness of the day, and
still Michael and Agnes were childless.
7. " She has sunk into some mossy or miry place," said
Michael, to a man near him, into whose face he could not
look, " a cruel, cruel death to one like her ! The earth on
which my child walked has closed over her, and we shall
never see her more ! "
8. At last, a man who had left the search, and gone in a
direction toward the highroad, came running with some-
thing in his arms toward the place where Michael and
others were standing beside Agnes, who lay, apparently
exhausted almost to dying, on the sward. He approached
hesitatingly ; and Michael saw that he carried Lucy's bon-
net, clothes, and plaid.
9. It was impossible not to see some spots of blood upon
the frill that the child had worn around her neck. " Mur-
dered ! murdered ! " was the one word whispered or ejacu-
lated all around ; but Agnes heard it not ; for, worn out
by that long night of hope and despair, she had fallen
asleep, and was, perhaps, seeking her lost Lucy in her
dreams.
10. Isabel took the clothes, and, narrowly inspecting
them with eye and hand, said, with a fervent voice that
was heard even in Michael's despair, "No, Lucy is yet
among the living. There are no marks of violence on the
garments of the innocent; no murderer's hand has been
here. These blood spots have been put there to deceive.
Besides, would not the murderer have carried off these
things? For what else would he have murdered her?
But, oh ! foolish despair ! What speak I of ? For, wicked '
as the world is ay ! desperately wicked there is not, on
FIFTH READER. 99
all the surface of the wide earth, a hand that would
murder our child ! Is it not plain as the sun in the
heaven, that Lucy has been stolen by some wretched gypsy
beggar?"
11. The crowd quietly dispersed, and horse and foot
began to scour the country. Some took the highroads,
others all the bypaths, and many the trackless hills.
Now that they were in some measure relieved from the
horrible belief that the child was dead, the worst other
calamity seemed nothing, for hope brought her back to
their arms.
12. Agnes had been able to walk home to Bracken-Braes,
and Michael and Isabel sat by her bedside. All her
strength was gone, and she lay at the mercy of the rustle
of a leaf, or a shadow across the window. Thus hour after
hour passed, till it was again twilight. " I hear footsteps
coming up the brae," said Agnes, who had for some time
appeared to be slumbering; and in a few moments the
voice of Jacob Mayne was heard at the outer door.
13. Jacob wore a solemn expression of countenance, and
he seemed, from his looks, to bring no comfort. Michael
stood up between him and his wife, and looked into his
heart. Something there seemed to be in his face that
was not miserable. "If he has heard nothing of my
child," thought Michael, "this man must care little for
his own fireside." "Oh,, speak, speak," said Agnes; "yet
why need you speak ? Ail this has been but a vain belief,
and Lucy is in heaven."
14. " Something like a trace of her has been discovered ;
a woman, with a child that did not look like a child of
hers, was last night at Clovenford, and left it at the dawn-
ing." "Do you hear that, my beloved Agnes?" said
Isabel; "she will have tramped away with Lucy up into
Ettrick or Yarrow; but hundreds of eyes will have been
upon her; for these are quiet but not solitary glens; and
the hunt will be over long before she has crossed down
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upon Hawick. I knew that country in my young days.
What say you, Mr. Mayne? There is the light of hope
in your face." " There is no reason to doubt, ma'am, that
it was Lucy. Everybody is sure of it. If it was my own
Rachel, I should have no fear as to seeing her this blessed
night/'
15. Jacob Mayne now took a chair, and sat down, with
even a smile upon his countenance. " I may tell you now,
that Watty Oliver knows it was your child, for he saw her
limping along after the gypsy at Galla-Brigg ; but, having
no suspicion, he did not take a second look at her, but
one look is sufficient, and he swears it was bonny Lucy
Forester."
16. Aunt Isabel, by this time, had bread and cheese and
a bottle of her own elder-flower wine on the table. " You
have been a long and hard journey, wherever you have
been, Mr. Mayne ; take some refreshment ; " and Michael
asked a blessing.
17. Jacob saw that he might now venture to reveal the
whole truth. "No, no, Mrs. Irving, I am over happy to
eat or to drink. You are all prepared for the blessing that
awaits you. Your child is not far off ; and I myself, for it
is I myself that found her, will bring her by the hand, and
restore her to her parents."
18. Agnes had raised herself up in her bed at these
words, but she sank gently back on her pillow; aunt
Isabel was rooted to her chair; and Michael, as he rose
up, felt as if the ground were sinking under his feet.
There was a dead silence all around the house for a short
space, and then the sound of many voices, which again
by degrees subsided. The eyes of all then looked, and
yet feared to look, toward the door.
19. Jacob Mayne was not so good as his word, for he
did not bring Lucy by the hand to restore her to her
parents; but dressed again in her own bonnet and gown,
and her own plaid, in rushed their own child, by herself,
FIFTH READER. 101
with tears and sobs of joy, and her father laid her within
her mother's bosom.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Brae, shelving ground, a declivity or slope of a
hill. Pas' times, sports, plays. 4. Ri'ot-ing, romping. 5. Heath'er,
an evergreen shrub bearing beautiful flowers, used in Great Britain
for making brooms, etc. 6. In-spired', animated, enlivened. Su-per-
nat'u-ral, more than human. Brake, a place overgrown with shrubs
and brambles. Re-ver'ber-at-iDg, resounding, echoing. In-tent',
having the mind closely fixed. 8. Plaid (pro. plad), a striped or
checked overgarment worn by the Scotch. 9. E-jac'u-lat-ed, ex-
claimed. 11. Seour, to pass over swiftly and thoroughly.
NOTE. The scene of this story is laid in Scotland, and many
of the words employed, such as brae, brake, heather, and plaid,
are but little used except in that country.
XXVIII. THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (b. 1807, d. 1882), the son of Hon.
Stephen Longfellow, an eminent lawyer, was born in Portland, Maine.
He graduated at Bowdoin College in 1825. After spending four years in
Europe, he was Professor of Modern Languages and Literature at Bow-
doin till 1835, when he was appointed to the chair of Modern Languages
and Belles-lettres in Harvard University. He resigned his professor-
ship in 1854, after which time he resided in Cambridge, Mass. Long-
fellow wrote many original works both in verse and prose, and made
several translations, the most famous of which is that of the works
of Dante. His poetry is always chaste and elegant, showing traces of
careful scholarship in every line. The numerous and varied editions of
his poems are evidences of their popularity.
1. THERE is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen,
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath,
And the flowers that grow between.
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2. "Shall I have naught that is fair?" saith he;
"Have naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
I will give them all back again."
3. He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound them in his sheaves.
4. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled;
"Dear tokens of the earth are they,
Where he was once a child.
5. "They shall all bloom in the fields of light,
Transplanted by my care,
And saints, upon their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear."
6. And the mother gave in tears and pain
The flowers she most did love;
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
7. 0, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day,
*T was an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
DEFINITIONS. 3. Sheaveg, bundles of grain. 4. To'ken (pro.
16'kn), a souvenir, that which is to recall some person, thing, or event.
6. Trans-plant'ed, removed, and planted in another place.
FIFTH READER. 103
XXIX. THE TOWN PUMP.
Nathaniel Hawthorne (6. 1804, d. 1864) was born in Salem, Mass. He
graduated at Bowdoin College in 1825. His earliest literary productions,
written for periodicals, were published in two volumes the first in 1837j
the second in 1842 under the title of " Twice-Told Tales." " Mosses from
an Old Manse," another series of tales and sketches, was published in
1845. From 1846 to 1850 he was surveyor of the port of Salem. In 1852 he
was appointed United States consul for Liverpool. After holding this
office four years, he traveled for some time on the continent. His most
popular works are "The Scarlet Letter," a work showing a deep knowl-
edge of human nature, " The House of the Seven Gables," " The Blithedale
Romance," and "The Marble Faun," an Italian romance, which is re-
garded by many as the best of his works. Being of a modest and retiring
lisposition, Mr. Hawthorne avoided publicity. Most of his works are
highly imaginative. As a prose writer he has no superior among Ameri-
can authors. He died at Plymouth, N. H., while on a visit to the White
Mountains for his health.
[SCEXE. The corner of two principal streets. The Toivn
Pump talking through its nose.~j
1. NOON, by the north clock! Noon, by the east!
High noon, too, by those hot sunbeams which fall, scarcely
aslope, upon my head, and almost make the water bubble
and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public
characters have a tough time of it! And among all the
town officers, chosen at the yearly meeting, where is he
that sustains, for a single year, the burden of such mani-
fold duties as are imposed, in perpetuity, upon the Town
Pump ?
2. The title of town treasurer is rightfully mine, as
guardian of the best treasure the town has. The over-
seers of the poor ought to make me their chairman, since
I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to
him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire depart-
ment, and one of the physicians of the board of health.
As a keeper of the peace, all water drinkers confess me
equal to the constable. I perform some of the duties of
the town clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they
are pasted on my front.
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3. To speak within bounds, I am chief person of the
municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern
to my brother officers by the cool, steady, upright, down-
right, and impartial discharge of my business, and the
constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or
winter, nobody seeks me in vain; for all day long I arn
seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretch-
ing out my arms to rich and poor alike ; and at night I
hold a lantern over my head, to show where I am, and to
keep people out of the gutters.
4. At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the
parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is
chained to my waist. Like a dramseller on the public
square, on a muster day, I cry aloud to all and sundry,
in my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my
voice. " Here it is, gentlemen ! Here is the good liquor !
Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk up, walk up ! Here
is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale of
father Adam ! better than Cognac, Hollands, Jamaica,
strong beer, or wine of any price ; here it is, by the hogs-
head or the single glass, and not a cent to pay. Walk
up, gentlemen, walk up and help yourselves ! "
5. It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no cus-
tomers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen. Quaff
and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice, cool
sweat. You, my friend, will need another cupful to wash
the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is
on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half
a score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed
by the taverns, and stopped at the running brooks and
well curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat without and fire
within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or melted
down to nothing at all in the fashion of a jellyfish.
6. Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks
my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations,
which he drained from no cup of mine. Welcome, most
FIFTH READER.
105
rubicund sir! You and I have been strangers hitherto;
nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a
closer intimacy, till the fumes of your breath be a little
less potent.
106 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7. Mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses
down your red-hot gullet, and is converted quite into
steam in the miniature Tophet, which you mistake for a
stomach. Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an hon-
est toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any other kind
of dramshop, spend the price of your children's food for
a swig half so delicious ? Now, for the first time these ten
years, you know the flavor of cold water. Good-by; and
whenever you are thirsty, recollect that I keep a constant
supply at the old stand.
8. Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are just let
loose from school, and come hither to scrub your bloom-
ing face, and drown the memory of certain taps of the
ferule, and other schoolboy troubles, in a draught from
the Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your
young life ; take it, and may your heart and tongue never
be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now.
9. There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield
your place to this elderly gentleman, who treads so ten-
derly over the paving stones that I suspect he is afraid
of breaking them. What! he limps by without so much
as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers were meant only
for people who have no wine cellars.
10. Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope! Go, draw
the cork, tip the decanter ; but when your great toe shal3
set you a-roarmg, it will be no affair of mine. If gentle-
men love the pleasant titillation of the gout, it is all one
to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue
lolling out, does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on
his hind legs, and laps eagerly out of the trough. See
how lightly he capers away again! Jowler, did your
worship ever have the gout ?
11. Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my
stream of eloquence, and spout forth a stream of water
to replenish the trough for this teamster and his two yoke
of oxen, who have come all the way from Staunton, or
FIFTH READER. 107
somewhere along that way. No part of my business gives
me more pleasure than the watering of cattle. Look ! how
rapidly they lower the watermark on the sides of the
trough, till their capacious stomachs are moistened with
a gallon or two apiece, and they can afford time to breathe,
with sighs of calm enjoyment ! Now they roll their quiet
eyes around the brim of their monstrous drinking vessel.
An ox is your true toper.
12. I hold myself the grand reformer of the age. From
my spout, and such spouts as mine, must flow the stream
that shall cleanse our earth of a vast portion of its crime
and anguish, which have gushed from the fiery fountains
of the still. In this mighty enterprise, the cow shall be
my great confederate. Milk and water!
13. Ahem! Dry work this speechifying, especially to
all unpracticed orators. I never conceived till now what
toil the temperance lecturers undergo for my sake. Do,
some kind Christian, pump a stroke or two, just to wet
my whistle. Thank you, sir. But to proceed.
14. The Town Pump and the Cow ! Such is the glorious
partnership that shall finally monopolize the whole business
of quenching thirst. Blessed consummation! Then Pov-
erty shall pass away from the land, finding no hovel so
wretched where her squalid form may shelter itself. Then
Disease, for lack of other victims, shall gnaw his own heart
and die. Then Sin, if she do not die, shall lose half her
strength.
15. Then there will be no war of households. The hus-
band and the wife, drinking deep of peaceful joy, a calm
bliss of temperate affections, shall pass hand in hand
through life, and lie down, not reluctantly, at its protracted
close. To them the past will be no turmoil of mad dreams,
nor the future an eternity of such moments as follow the
delirium of a drunkard. Their dead faces shall express
what their spirits were, and are to be, by a lingering smile
of memory and hope.
108 ECLECTIC SERIES.
16. Drink, then, and be refreshed! The water is as
pure and cold as when it slaked the thirst of the red
hunter, and flowed beneath the aged bough, though now
this gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hot
stones, where no shadow falls, but from the brick build-
ings. But, still is this fountain the source of health,
peace, and happiness, and I behold, with certainty and
joy, the approach of the period when the virtues of cold
water, too little valued since our father's days, will be
fully appreciated and recognized by all.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Per-pe-tu'i-ty, endless duration. 2. Pro-mul'-
gat-ing, announcing. 3. Mu-nfy-i-paTi-ty, a division of a country
or of a city. 4. Mus'ter day, parade day. Sun' dry, several. Un-
a-duTter-at-ed, pure, unmixed. Co'gnae (pro. Kon'yak), a French
brandy. 6. Po-ta'tions, drinkings. Ru'bi-eund, inclining to red-
ness. 7. To'phet, the infernal regions. 10. Tit-il4a'tion, tickling.
11. Re-plen'ish, to fill again. 14. Mo-nop'o-llze, to obtain the
whole. Con-sum-ma' tion, completion, termination. Squal id, jilthy*
15. Pro-traet'ed, delayed. 16. Slaked, quenched.
XXX. GOOD NIGHT.
Samuel Griswold Goodrich (6. 1793, d. 1860) was born in Ridgefield,
Conn. Mr. Goodrich is best known as "Peter Parley," under which
assumed name he commenced the publication of a series of juvenile
works about 1827. He edited " Parley's Magazine " from 1841 to 1854. He
was appointed United States consul for Paris in 1848, and held that office
four years. He was a voluminous writer, and his works are interesting
and popular. His " Recollections of a Lifetime" was published in 1857,
and " Peter Parley's Own Story " the year after his death.
1. THE sun has sunk behind the hills,
The shadows o'er the landscape creep;
A drowsy sound the woodland fills,
As nature folds her arms to sleep:
Good night good night.
FIFTH HEADER.
2. The chattering jay has ceased his din,
The noisy robin sings no more;
The crow, his mountain haunt within,
Dreams 'mid the forest's surly roar:
Good night good night.
3. The sunlit cloud floats dim and pale;
The dew is falling soft and still,
The mist hangs trembling o'er the vale,
And silence broods o'er yonder mill:
Good night good night.
4. The rose, so ruddy in the light,
Bends on its stem all rayless now;
And by its side a lily white,
A sister shadow, seems to bow:
Good night good night.
109
5. The bat may wheel on silent wing,
The fox his guilty vigils keep,
The boding owl his dirges sing;
But love and innocence will sleep:
Good night good night.
HO ECLECTIC SERIES.
XXXI. AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL.
Louisa May Alcott (&. 1833, d. 1888) was born at Germantown, Pa. r
of New England parentage. Her parents afterwards returned to New
England, and most of her life was spent in Concord, Mass. During the
Civil War she went to Washington and nursed the wounded and sick
until her own health gave way. As a child she used to write stories for
the amusement of her playmates, and in 1857 published her first book,
" Flower Fables." Her first novel, " Moods," appeared in 1865. " Little
Women," published in 1868, is a picture of her own home life. " An Old-
Fashioned Girl," from which this extract is adapted, was published in
1870, and is one of her most popular books.
1. POLLY hoped the "dreadful boy 77 (Tom) would not
be present ; but he was, and stared at her all dinner time
in a most trying manner.
2. Mr. Shaw, a busy-looking gentleman, said, "How do
you do, my dear? Hope you'll enjoy yourself; " and then
appeared to forget her entirely. Mrs. Shaw, a pale, nerv-
ous woman, greeted her little guest kindly, and took care
that she wanted for nothing.
3. Madam Shaw, a quiet old lady, with an imposing cap,
exclaimed, on seeing Polly, "Bless my heart! the image
of her mother a sweet woman how is she, dear?"
and kept peering at the newcomer over her glasses till,
between Madam and Tom, poor Polly lost her appetite.
4. Her cousin Fanny chatted like a magpie, and little
Maud fidgeted, till Tom proposed to put her under the
big dish cover, which produced such an explosion that
the young lady was borne screaming away by the much-
enduring nurse.
5. It was, altogether, an uncomfortable dinner, and Polly
was very glad when it was over. They all went about
their own affairs ; and, after doing the honors of the house,
Fan was called to the dressmaker, leaving Polly to amuse
herself in the great drawing-room.
6. Polly was glad to be alone for a few minutes; and,
having examined all the pretty things about her, began to
walk up and down over the soft, flowery carpet, humming
FIFTH READER. Ill
to herself, as the daylight faded, and only the ruddy glow
of the fire filled the room.
7. Presently Madam came slowly in, and sat down in her
armchair, saying, "That's a fine old tune; sing it to me,
my dear. I have n't heard it this many a day."
8. Polly did n't like to sing before strangers, for she had
no teaching but such as her busy mother could give her ;
but she had been taught the utmost respect for old people,
and, having no reason for refusing, she directly went to the
piano and did as she was bid.
9. "That's the sort of music it's a pleasure to hear.
Sing some more, dear," said Madam, in her gentle way,
when she had done.
10. Pleased with this praise, Polly sang away in a fresh
little voice that went straight to the listener's heart and
nestled there. The sweet old tunes that one is never tired
of were all Polly's store. The more she sung, the better
she did it; and when she wound up with "A Health to
King Charlie," the room quite rung with the stirring music
made by the big piano and the little maid.
11. " That 's a jolly tune ! Sing it again, please," cried
Tom's voice ; and there was Tom's red head bobbing up over
the high back of the chair where he had hidden himself.
12. It gave Polly quite a turn, for she thought no one
was hearing her but the old lady dozing by the fire. "I
can't sing any more; I'm tired," she said, and walked
away to Madam in the other room. The red head vanished
like a meteor, for Polly's tone had been decidedly cool.
13. The old lady put out her hand, and, drawing Polly
to her knee, looked into her face with such kind eyes that
Polly forgot the impressive cap, and smiled at her confi-
dently; for she saw that her simple music had pleased
her listener, and she felt glad to know it.
14. " You mus'n't mind my staring, dear," said Madam,
softly pinching her rosy cheek, " I haven 't seen a little girl
for so long, it does my old eyes good to look at you."
112 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Polly thought that a very odd speech, and couldn't help
saying, " Are n't Fan and Maud little girls, too ? "
15. "Oh, dear, no! not what I call little girls. Fan
has been a young lady this two years, and Maud is a
spoiled baby. Your mother 's a very sensible woman, my
child."
16. "What a queer old lady!" thought Polly; but she
said " Yes 'm," respectfully, and looked at the fire. " You
don't understand what I mean, do you ? " asked Madam,
still holding her by the chin. "No'm; not quite."
17. " Well, dear, I '11 tell you. In my day, children of
fourteen and fifteen didn't dress in the height of the
fashion ; go to parties as nearly like those of grown people
as it 's possible to make them ; lead idle, giddy, unhealthy
lives, and get blast at twenty. We were little folks till
eighteen or so; worked and studied, dressed and played,
like children; honored our parents; and our days were
much longer in the land than now, it seems to me."
18. The old lady appeared to forget Polly, at the end of
her speech ; for she sat patting the plump little hand that
lay in her own, and looking up at a faded picture of an
old gentleman with a ruffled shirt and a queue. " Was he
your father, Madam ? "
19. "Yes, my dear; my honored father. I did up his
frills to the day of his death ; and the first money I ever
earned, was five dollars which he offered as a prize to which-
ever of his six girls would lay the handsomest darn in his
silk stockings."
20. "How proud you must have been!" cried Polly,
leaning on the old lady's knee with an interested face.
21. " Yes ; and we all learned to make bread, and cook,
and wore little chintz gowns, and were as gay and hearty
as kittens. All lived to be grandmothers; and I'm the
last seventy next birthday, my dear, and not worn out
yet ; though daughter Shaw is an invalid at forty."
22. "That's the way I was brought up, and that's why
FIFTH READER. 113
Fan calls me old-fashioned, I suppose. Tell more about
your papa, please; I like it/' said Polly.
23. " Say, ' father.' We never called him papa ; and if one
of my brothers had addressed him as ' governor/ as boys now
do, I really think he 'd have him cut off with- a shilling."
DEFINITIONS. 3. Im-pos'ing, having the power of exciting atten-
tion and feeling, impressive. 4. Magpie, a noisy, mischievous bird,
common in Europe and America. 12. Van'ished, disappeared.
Me'te-or, a shooting star. 13. C6n'fi-dent-ly, with trust. 17. Bla-se
(pro. bla-za'), a French word meaning surfeited, rendered incapable
cf further enjoyment. 21. In'va-lid, a person who is sickly.
XXXII. MY MOTHER'S HANDS.
! SUCH beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're neither white nor small;
And you, I know, would scarcely think
That they are fair at all.
I've looked on hands whose form and hue
A sculptor's dream might be;
Yet are those aged, wrinkled hands
More beautiful to me.
2. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
Though heart were weary and sad,
Those patient hands kept toiling on,
That the children might be glad.
I always weep, as, looking back
To childhood's distant day,
I think how those hands rested not
When mine were at their play.
3. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're growing feeble now,
For time and pain have left their mart
On hands and heart and brow.
114 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Alas ! alas ! the nearing time,
And the sad, sad day to me,
When 'neath the daisies, out of sight,
These hands will folded be.
4. But oh! beyond this shadow land,
Where all is bright and fair,
I know full well these dear old hands
Will palms of victory bear;
Where crystal streams through endless years
Flow over golden sands,
And where the old grow young again,
I'll clasp my mother's hands.
THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM.
Jane Taylor (6. 1783, d. 1824) was born in London. Her mother was a
writer of some note. In connection with her sister Ann, Jane Taylor
wrote several juvenile works of more than ordinary excellence. Among
them were " Hymns for Infant Minds " and " Original Poems." Besides
these, she wrote " Display, a Tale," " Essays in Khyme," and " Contribu-
tions of QQ." Her writings are graceful, and often contain a useful moral.
1. AN old clock that had stood for fifty years in a
farmer's kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of
complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family
was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, the dial plate
(if we may credit the fable) changed countenance with
alarm; the hands made a vain effort to continue their
course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise;
the weights hung speechless; and each member felt dis-
posed to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial
instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation,
when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested
their innocence.
2. But now a faint tick was heard below from the pen-
dulum, who spoke thus : " I confess myself to be the sole
cause of the present stoppage; and I am willing, for the
FIFTH READER. 115 V
general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is,
that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the old
clock became so enraged that it was upon the very point of
striking. " Lazy wire ! " exclaimed the dial plate, holding
up its hands.
3. "Very good!" replied the pendulum; "it is vastly
easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every-
body knows, set yourself up above me, it is vastly easy
for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness ! you who
have had nothing to do all your life but to stare people in
the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that
goes on in the kitchen. Think, I beseech you, how you
would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and to
wag backward and forward year after year, as I do."
4. "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window
in your house on purpose for you to look through ? " " For
all that," resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark here;
and. although there is a window, I dare not stop even for
an instant to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired of
my way of life ; and, if you wish, I '11 tell you how I took
this disgust at my employment. I happened, this morn-
ing, to be calculating how many times I should have to
tick in the course of only the next twenty-four hours;
perhaps some one of you above there can give me the
exact sum."
5. The minute hand, being quick at figures, presently
replied, " Eighty-six thousand four hundred times." " Ex-
actly so," replied the pendulum. "Well, I appeal to you
all, if the very thought of this was not enough to fatigue
anyone ; and when I began to multiply the strokes of one
day by those of months and years, really it was no wonder
if I felt discouraged at the prospect. So, after a great deal
of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I '11 stop."
6. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during
this harangue ; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied :
"Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such
116 ECLECTIC SERIES.
a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been
seized by this sudden weariness. It is true, you have done
a great deal of work in your time ; so have we all, and
are likely to do; which, although it may fatigue us to
think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do.
Would you now do me the favor to give about half a
dozen strokes to illustrate my argument ? "
7. The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its
usual pace. " Now/ 7 resumed the dial, " may I be allowed
to inquire if that exertion is at all fatiguing or disagree-
able to you ? " " Not in the least," replied the pendulum ;
" it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but
of millions."
8. " Very good," replied the dial ; " but recollect that,
although you may think of a million of strokes in an
instant, you are required to execute but one ; and that,
however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment
will always be given you to swing in." " That consider-
ation staggers me, I confess," said the pendulum. " Then
I hope," resumed the dial plate, " that we shall all return
to our duty immediately ; for the maids will lie in bed if
we stand idling thus."
9. Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused
of light conduct, used all their influence in urging him
to proceed; when, as if with one consent, the wheels
began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum
began to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever ;
while a red beam of the rising sun, that streamed through
a hole in the kitchen, shining full upon the dial plate, it
brightened up as if nothing had been the matter.
10. When the farmer came down to breakfast that
morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared that his
watch had gained half an hour in the night.
DEFINITIONS. 1. In'sti-tut-ed, commenced, began. Pro-test'ed,
solemnly declared. 4. Cal'eu-lat-ing, reckoning, computing. 5. Pros'-
peet, anticipation, that to which one looks forward. 6. Ha-rangue'
FIFTH READER. 117
(joro. ha-rang'), speech. Il-lus'trate, to make clear, to exemplify.
7. Ej-er'tion (pro. egz-er'shun), effort. 8. Ex'e-eute, to complete^
to finish. Con-sld-er-a'tion, reason.
XXXIV. THE DEATH OP THE FLOWERS.
William Cullen Bryant (6. 1794, d. 1878) was born in Cummington,
Mass. He entered Williams College at the age of sixteen, but was hon-
orably dismissed at the end of two years. At the age of twenty-one he
was admitted to the bar, and practiced his profession successfully for
nine years. In 1826 he removed to New York, and became connected
with the "Evening Post" a connection which continued to the time
of his death. His residence for more than thirty of the last years of
his life was at Roslyn, Long Island. He visited Europe several times;
and in 1849 he continued his travels into Egypt and Syria.
In all his poems, Mr. Bryant exhibits a remarkable love for, and a careful
study of, nature. His language, both in prose and verse, is always chaste,
correct, and elegant. " Thanatopsis," perhaps the best known of all his
poems, was written when he was but nineteen. His excellent transla-
tions of the " Iliad " and the " Odyssey " of Homer, and some of his best
poems, were written after he had passed the age of seventy. He retained
his powers and his activity till the close of his life.
1. THE melancholy days are come,
The saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods,
And meadows brown and sear.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove
The autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust,
And to the rabbit's tread.
The robin and the wren are flown,
And from the shrubs the jay,
And from the wood top calls the crow
Through all the gloomy day. :
2. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers,
That lately sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs,
A beauteous sisterhood ?
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Alas! they all are in their graves;
The gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds
With the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie;
But the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth
The lovely ones again.
3. The windflower and the violet,
They perished long ago,
And the brier rose and the orchis died
Amid the summer's glow ;
But on the hill, the golden-rod,
And the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sunflower by the brook,
In autumn beauty stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven,
As falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone
From upland, glade, and glen,
4. And now, when comes the calm, mild day,
As still such days will come,
To call the squirrel and the bee
From out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard,
Though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light
The waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers
Whose fragrance late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood
And by the stream no more.
6. And then I think of one, who in
Her youthful beauty died,
FIFTH READER. 119
The fair, meek blossom that grew up
And faded by my side.
In the cold, moist earth we laid her,
When the forest cast the leaf,
And we wept that one so lovely
Should have a life so brief;
Yet not unmeet it was that one,
Like that young friend of ours,
So gentle and so beautiful,
Should perish with the flowers.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Wail'ing, lamenting, mourning. Sear, dry,
withered. 3. Glade, an open place in the forest. Glen, a valley, a
dale. 4. Un-meet', improper, unfitting.
XXXV. THE THUNDERSTORM.
Washington Irving (b. 1783, d. 1859). This distinguished author,
whose works have enriched American literature, was born in the city of
New York. He had an ordinary school education, and hegan his literary
career at the age of nineteen, by writing for a paper published by his
brother. His first book, " Salmagundi," was published in 1807. Two
years later he published " Knickerbocker's History of New York." In
1815 he sailed for Europe, and remained abroad seventeen years, during
which time he wrote several of his works. From 1842 to 1846 he was min-
ister to Spain. The last years of his life were passed at " Sunnyside,"
near Tarrytown, N.Y. He was never married. "The Life of Washing-
ton," his last work, was completed in the same year in which he died.
Mr. Irving's works are characterized by humor, chaste sentiment, and
elegance and correctness of expression. The following selection is from
" Dolph " in " Bracebridge Hall."
1. Ix the second day of the voyage, they came to the
Highlands. It was the latter part of a calm, sultry day,
that they floated gently with the tide between these stern
mountains. There was that perfect quiet which prevails
over nature in the languor of summer heat. The turning
of a plank, or the accidental falling of an oar, on deck,
was echoed from the mountain side and reverberated along
the shores ; and, if by chance the captain gave a shout of
120 ECLECTIC SERIES.
command, there were airy tongues that mocked it from
every cliff.
2. Dolph gazed about him, in mute delight and wonder,
at these scenes of nature's magnificence. To the left, the
Dunderberg reared its woody precipices, height over height,
forest over forest, away into the deep summer sky. To the
right, strutted forth the bold promontory of Antony's Nose,
with a solitary eagle wheeling about it ; while beyond, moun-
tain succeeded to mountain, until they seemed to lock their
arms together and confine this mighty river in their
embraces.
3. In the midst of this admiration, Dolph remarked a
pile of bright, snowy clouds peering above the western
heights. It was succeeded by another, and another, each
seemingly pushing onward its predecessor, and towering,
with dazzling brilliancy, in the deep blue atmosphere;
and now muttering peals of thunder were faintly heard
rolling behind the mountains. The river, hitherto still
and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land, now
showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the wind came
creeping up it. The fishhawks wheeled and screamed,
and sought their nests on the high, dry trees; the crows
flew clamorously to the crevices of the rocks; and all
nature seemed conscious of the approaching thunder gust.
4. The clouds now rolled in volumes over the mountain
tops ; their summits still bright and snowy, but the lower
parts of an inky blackness. The rain began to patter
down in broad and scattered drops; the wind freshened,
and curled up the waves; at length, it seemed as if the
bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain tops, and
complete torrents of rain came rattling down. The light-
ning leaped from cloud to cloud, and streamed quivering
against the rocks, splitting and rending the stoutest forest
trees. The thunder burst in tremendous explosions; the
peals were echoed from mountain to mountain; they
crashed upon Dunderberg, and then rolled up the long
FIFTH READER. 121
defile of the Highlands, each headland making a new echo,
until old Bull Hill seemed to bellow back the storm.
5. For a time the scudding rack and mist and the
sheeted rain almost hid the landscape from the sight.
There was a fearful gloom, illumined still more fearfully
by the streams of lightning which glittered among the
raindrops. Never had Dolph beheld such an absolute
warring of the elements; it seemed as if the storm was
tearing and rending its way through the mountain defile,
and had brought all the artillery of heaven into action.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Lan'guor {pro. lang'gwgr), exhaustion of
strength, dullness. 3. Re-marked', noticed, observed. Pred-e-^es'-
sor, the one going immediately before. Clam'or-ous-ly, with a loud
noise. 4. BeTly-ing, swelling out. De-file', a long, narrow pass.
5. Rack, thin, flying, broken clouds. El'e-ments, a term usually
including fire, water, earth, and air.
NOTES. 1. The Highlands are a mountainous region in New
York, bordering the Hudson River above Peekskill.
2. The Dunderberg and Antony's Nose are names of two peaks
of the Highlands.
4. Bull Hill, also called Mt. Taurus, is 15 miles farther north.
XXXVI. APRIL DAY.
Caroline Anne Southey (6 1786, d. 1854), the second wife of Southey
the poet, and better known as Caroline Bowles, was born near Lyming-
ton, Hampshire, England. Her first work, " Ellen Fitzarthur," a poem,
was published in 1820 ; and for more than twenty years her writings were
published anonymously. In 1839 she was married to Mr. Southey, and
survived him over ten years. Her poetry is graceful in expression, and
full of tenderness, though somewhat melancholy. The following extract
first appeared in 1822 in a collection entitled, "The Widow's Tale, and
other Poems."
1. ALL day the low-hung clouds have dropped
Their garnered fullness down;
All day that soft, gray mist hath wrapped
Hill, valley, grove, and town.
122 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. There has not been a sound to-day
To break the calm of nature;
Nor motion, I might almost say,
Of life or living creature;
3. Of waving bough, or warbling bird,
Or cattle faintly lowing;
I could have half believed I heard
The leaves and blossoms growing.
4. I stood to hear I love it well
The rain's continuous sound;
Small drops, but thick and fast they fell,
Down straight into the ground.
5. For leafy thickness is not yet
Earth's naked breast to screen,
Though every dripping branch is set
With shoots of tender green.
6. Sure, since I looked, at early morn,
Those honeysuckle buds
Have swelled to double growth; that thorn
Hath put forth larger studs.
7. That lilac's cleaving cones have burst,
The milk-white flowers revealing;
Even now upon my senses first
Methinks their sweets are stealing.
8. The very earth, the steamy air,
Is all with fragrance rife!
And grace and beauty everywhere
Are flushing into life.
FIFTH READER. 128
9. Down, down they come, those fruitful stores,
Those earth-rejoicing drops!
A momentary deluge pours,
Then thins, decreases, stops.
10. And ere the dimples on the stream
Have circled out of sight,
Lo! from the west a parting gleam
Breaks forth of amber light.
11. But yet behold abrupt and loud,
Comes down the glittering rain;
The farewell of a passing cloud,
The fringes of its train.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Gar'nered, laid up, treasured. 6. Studs,
knobs, buds. 7. Cleav'ing, dividing. 10. Dim'ples, small depres-
sions. Am'ber, the color of amber, yellow.
XXXVII. THE TEA ROSE.
1. THERE it stood, in its little green vase, on a light
ebony stand in the window of the drawing-room. The
rich satin curtains, with their costly fringes, swept down
on either side of it, and around it glittered every rare and
fanciful trifie which wealth can offer to luxury, and yet
that simple rose was the fairest of them all. So pure it
looked, its white leaves just touched with that delicious,
creamy tint peculiar to its kind; its cup so full, so pea-
124
ECLECTIC SERIES.
feet, its head bending, as if it were sinking and melting
away in its own richness. Oh ! when did ever man make
anything to equal the living, perfect flower !
2. But the sunlight that streamed through the window
FIFTH READER. 125
revealed something fairer than the rose a young lady
reclining on an ottoman, who was thus addressed by her
livelier cousin: "I say, cousin, I have been thinking what
you are to do with your pet rose when you go to New
York; as, to our consternation, you are determined to do.
You know it would be a sad pity to leave it with such a
scatter-brain as I am. I love flowers, indeed, that is, I
like a regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry to a
party; but as to all this tending and fussing which is need-
ful to keep them growing, I have no gifts in that line."
3. " Make yourself easy as to that, Kate," said Florence,
with a smile; "I have no intention of calling upon your
talents ; I have an asylum in view for my favorite."
4. "Oh, then you know just what I was going to say.
Mrs. Marshall, I presume, has been speaking to you; she
was here yesterday, and I was quite pathetic upon the
subject; telling her the loss your favorite would sustain,
and so forth; and she said how delighted she would be
to have it in her greenhouse; it is in such a fine state
now, so full of buds. I told her I knew you would like
to give it to her; you are so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you
know."
5. "Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise en-
gaged."
" Whom can it be to ? you have so few intimates here."
"Oh, it is only one of my odd fancies."
" But do tell me, Florence."
" Well, cousin, you know the little pale giri to whom we
give sewing ? "
6. "What! little Mary Stephens? How absurd, Flor-
ence ! This is just another of your motherly, old-maidish
ways; dressing dolls for poor children, making bonnets,
and knitting socks for all the little dirty babies in the
neighborhood. I do believe you have made more calls
in those two vile, ill-smelling alleys behind our house than
ever you have in Chestnut Street, though you know every-
126 'ECLECTIC SERIES.
body is half dying to see you ; and now, to crown all, you
must give this choice little bijou to a seamstress girl, when
one of your most intimate friends, in your own class, would
value it so highly. What in the world can people in their
circumstances want with flowers ? "
7. "Just the same as I do," replied Florence, calmly.
"Have you not noticed that the little girl never comes
without looking wistfully at the opening buds ? And don't
you remember, the other morning she asked me so prettily
if I would let her mother come and see it, she was so fond
of flowers ? "
8. " But, Florence, only think of this rare flower stand-
ing on a table with ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifled
in that close little room, where Mrs. Stephens and her
daughter manage to wash, iron, and cook."
9. "Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one
coarse room, and wash, and iron, and cook, as you say;
if I had to spend every moment of my time in toil, with
no prospect from my window but a brick wall and a dirty
lane, such a flower as this would be untold enjoyment to
me."
10. "Pshaw, Florence; all sentiment! Poor people have
no time to be sentimental. Besides, I don't believe it will
grow with them; it is a greenhouse flower, and used to
delicate living."
11. " Oh, as to that, a flower never inquires whether its
owner is rich or poor; and poor Mrs. Stephens, whatever
else she has not, has sunshine of as good quality as this that
streams through our window. The beautiful things that
God makes are his gifts to all alike. You will see that my
fair rose will be as well and cheerful in Mrs. Stephens's
room as in ours."
12. " Well, after all, how odd ! When one gives to poor
people, one wants to give them something useful a bushel
of potatoes, a ham, and such things."
13. " Why, certainly, potatoes and ham must be supplied;
FIFTH EEADER. 127
but, having ministered to the first and most craving wants,
why not add any other little pleasures or gratifications we
may have it in our power to bestow? I know there are
many of the poor who have fine feeling and a keen sense
of the beautiful, which rusts out and dies because they are
too hard pressed to procure it any gratification. Poor Mrs.
Stephens, for example ; I know she would enjoy birds, and
flowers, and music as much as I do. I have seen her eye
light up as she looked upon these things in our drawing-'
room, and yet not one beautiful thing can she command.
From necessity, her room, her clothing, all she has, must
be coarse and plain. You should have seen the almost
rapture she and Mary felt when I offered them my rose."
14. " Dear me ! all this may be true, but I never thought
of it before. I never thought that these hard-working peo-
ple had any ideas of taste ! "
15. " Then why do you see the geranium or rose so care-
fully nursed in the old cracked teapot in the poorest room,
or the morning-glory planted in a box and twined about the
window ? Do not these show that the human heart yearns
for the beautiful in all ranks of life? You remember,
Kate, how our washerwoman sat up a whole night, after a
hard day's work, to make her first baby a pretty dress to
be baptized in." " Yes, and I remember how I laughed at
you for making such a tasteful little cap for it."
16. "True, Kate, but I think the look of perfect delight
with which the poor woman regarded her baby in its new
dress and cap was something quite worth creating; I do
believe she could not have felt more grateful if I had sent
her a barrel of flour."
17. "Well, I never thought before of giving anything
to the poor but what they really needed, and I have always
been willing to do that when I could without going far out
of my way."
18. "Ah! cousin, if our heavenly Father gave to us after
this mode, we should have only coarse, shapeless piles of
128 ECLECTIC SERIES.
provisions lying about the world, instead of all this beauti-
ful variety of trees, and fruits, and flowers."
19. "Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right, but
have mercy on my poor head; it is too small to hold so
many new ideas all at once, so go on your own way ; " and
the little lady began practicing a waltzing step before the
glass with great satisfaction.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Ot'to-man, a stuffed seat without a back. 3.
A-sy'lum, a place of refuge and protection. 4. Pa-thet'ie, moving to
pity or grief. 6. Bi-jpu' {pro. be-zhoo', a jewel. Cir'eum-stan9-es,
condition in regard to worldly property. 10. Sen-ti-ment'al, showing
an excess of sentiment or feeling. 13. Com-mand', to claim. Rap'-
ture, extreme joy or pleasure, ecstasy. 14. Taste, the faculty of dis-
cerning beauty or whatever forms excellence. 15. Yearng, longs, is
eager.
XXXVIII. THE CATARACT OP LODOEE.
1. "How does the water
Come down at Lodore?"
My little boy asked me
Thus once on a time;
And, moreover, he tasked me
To tell him in rhyme.
2. Anon at the word,
There first came one daughter,
And then came another,
To second and third
The request of their brother,
And to hear how the water
Comes down at Lodore,
With its rush and its roar,
As many a time
They had seen it before.
FIFTH READER. 129
3. So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store,
And 't was in my vocatioD
For their recreation
That so I should sing;
Because I was Laureate
To them and the King.
4. From its sources which well
In the tarn on the fell;
From its fountains
In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills;
Through moss and through brake,
It runs and it creeps
For a while, till it sleeps
In its own little lake.
5. And thence at departing,
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds,
And away it proceeds,
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade,
And through the wood shelter,
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,
Hurry-skurry.
6. Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till, in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.
130 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7. The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among;
8. Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping,
Showering and springing,
Flying and flinging,
Writhing and ringing,
Eddying and whisking,
Spouting and frisking,
Turning and twisting,
Around and around
With endless rebound;
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;
Confounding, astounding,
Dizzying, and deafening the ear with its sound
9. Collecting, projecting,
Eeceding and speeding,
And shocking and rocking,
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading,
And whizzing and hissing,
And dripping and skipping,
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining,
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking,
And pouring and roaring,
And waving and raving,
And tossing and crossing,
FIFTH HEADER. 131
And guggling and struggling,
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning,
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening,
And quivering and shivering,
And hurrying and skurrying,
And thundering and floundering;
10. Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling,
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling;
11. And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing j
And so never ending, but always descending,
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending,
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar,
And this way the water comes down at Lodore.
Abridged from Southey.
DEFINITIONS. 4. Tarn, a small lake among the mountains.
Fell (provincial English), a stony hill. Gills (provincial English),
brooks. 10. Brawling, roaring. Riv'ing, splitting.
NOTES. 1. Lodore is a cascade on the banks of Lake Derwent-
water, in Cumberland, England, near where Southey lived.
3. Laureate. The term probably arose from a custom in the
English universities of presenting a laurel wreath to graduates
in rhetoric and versification. In England the poet laureate's
office is filled by appointment of the lord chamberlain. The
salary is quite small, and the office is valued chiefly as one of
honor.
This lesson is peculiarly adapted for practice on the difficult
sound ing.
132 ECLECTIC SERL8S.
XXXIX. THE BOBOLINK.
1. THE happiest bird of our spring, however, and one
that rivals the European lark in my estimation, is the bob-
lincoln, or bobolink as he is commonly called. He arrives
at that choice portion of our year which, in this latitude,
answers to the description of the month of May so often
given by the poets. With us it begins about the middle
of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of June. Earlier
than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight
the opening beauties of the year ; and later than this, begin
the parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer.
But in this genial interval, Nature is in all her freshness
and fragrance: "the rains are over and gone, the flowers
appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is
come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land."
2. The trees are now in their fullest foliage and bright-
est verdure ; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers
of the laurel ; the air is perfumed with the sweetbrier
and the wild rose ; the meadows are enameled with clover
blossoms; while the young apple, peach, and the plum
begin to swell, and the cherry to glow among the green
leaves.
3. This is the chosen season of revelry of the bobolink.
He comes amid the pomp and fragrance of the season;
his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and
sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the
freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when
the clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig
of a tree, or on some long, flaunting weed, and, as he rises
and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of rich,
tinkling notes, crowding one upon another, like the outpour-
ing melody of the skylark, and possessing the same rap-
turous character.
4. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, be-
FIFTH READER. 133
gins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters
tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy
at his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his mate ;
always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody ;
and always with the same appearance of intoxication and
delight. Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the
bobolink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my
path in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of
the year, when all nature called to the fields, and the
rural feeling throbbed in every bosom ; but when I, luck-
less urchin ! was doomed to be mewed up, during the live-
long day, in a schoolroom.
5. It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me as he
flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me with his hap-
pier lot. Oh, how I envied him ! No lessons, no task, no
echool; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields, and fine
weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might
have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo :
"Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.
"Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring."
6. Further observation and experience have given me
a different idea of this feathered voluptuary, which I will
venture to impart for the benefit of my young readers, who
may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admi-
ration which I once indulged. I have shown him only as
I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetical part
of his career, when he, in a manner, devoted himself to
elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird of music,
and song, and taste, and sensibility, and refinement. While
134 ECLECTIC SERIES.
this lasted lie was sacred from injury; the very schoolboy
would not fling a stone at him, and the merest rustic would
pause to listen to his strain.
7. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as
the clover blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into
summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and
habits, doffs his poetical suit of black, assumes a russet,
dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyment of common
vulgar birds. His notes no longer vibrate on the ear;
he is stuffing himself with the seeds of the tall weeds on
which he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He
has become a bon vivant, a gourmand : with him now there
is nothing like the "joys of the table." In a little while
he grows tired of plain, homely fare, and is off on a gas-
tronomic tour in quest of foreign luxuries.
8. We next hear of him, with myriads of his kind,
banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware, and grown
corpulent with good feeding. He has changed his name
in traveling. Boblincoln no more, he is the reedbird now,
the much-sought-for tidbit of Pennsylvanian epicures, the
rival in unlucky fame of the ortolan ! Wherever he goes,
pop ! pop ! pop ! every rusty firelock in the country is
blazing away. He sees his companions falling by thou-
sands around him. Does he take warning and reform?
Alas! not he. Again he wings his flight. The rice
swamps of the south invite him. He gorges himself
among them almost to bursting; he can scarcely fly for
corpulency. He has once more changed his name, and is
now the famous ricebird of the Carolinas. Last stage of
his career : behold him spitted, with dozens of his corpu-
lent companions, and served up, a vaunted dish, on some
southern table.
9. Such is the story of the bobolink; once spiritual,
musical, admired, the joy of the meadows, and the favorite
bird of spring ; finally, a gross little sensualist, who expi-
ates his sensuality in the larder. His story contains a moral
FIFTH READER. 135
worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys;
warning them to keep to those refined and intellectual
pursuits which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity
during the early part of his career, but to eschew all
tendency to that gross and dissipated indulgence which
brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end.
From Irvincfs "Birds of Spring. 1 '
DEFINITIONS. 2. En-am'eled, coated with a smooth, glossy sur-
face. 3. Sen-si-bil'i-ty, feeling. 4. Mewed, shut up. 5. VaVlet,
a rascal. Versed, familiar, practiced. 6. Vo-lup'tu-a-ry, one who
makes his bodily enjoyment his chief object. 7. Bon vi-vant (French,
pro. boN ve-vax'), one who Jives well. Gour-mand (French, pro.
godVmax), a glutton. Gas-tro-nom'ie, relating to the science of good
eating. 8. Cor'pu-lent, fleshy, fat. Ep'i-eure, one who indulges in
the luxuries of the table. Vaunt'ed, boasted. 9. Ex'pi-ates, atones
for. Lard'er, a pantry. Es-chew', to shun.
NOTES. 5. John Logan (b. 1748, d. 1788). A Scotch writer of
note. His writings include dramas, poetry, history, and essays.
8. The ortolan is a small bird, abundant in southern Europe,
Cyprus, and Japan. It is fattened for the table, and is considered
a great delicacy.
XL. ROBERT OF LINCOLN.
MERRILY swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain side or mead,
Kobert of Lincoln is telling his name
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
Snug and safe is that nest of ours.
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Ghee, chee, chee."
136 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding coat:
White are his shoulders, and white his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Look what a nice new coat is mine;
Sure, there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee."
3. Kobert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings
" Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee."
4. Modest and shy as a nun is she,
One weak chirp is her only note;
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Never was I afraid of man,
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee."
5. Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!
There as the mother sits all day,
Kobert is singing with all his might:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
FIFTH HEADER. 137
Nice good wife that never goes cut,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee."
6. Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are opeu for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood.
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee."
7. Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee."
8. Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee."
William Cutten Bryant.
138 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XLI. REBELLION IN MASSACHUSETTS STATE PRISON.
1. A MORE impressive exhibition of moral courage, op-
posed to the wildest ferocity under the most appalling cir-
cumstances, was never seen than that which was witnessed
by the officers of our state prison, in the rebellion which
occurred some years since.
2. Three convicts had been sentenced, under the rules
of the prison, to be whipped in the yard, and, by some
effort of one of the other prisoners, a door had been opened
at midday communicating with the great dining hall and,
through the warden's lodge, with the street.
3. The dining hall was long, dark, and damp, from its
situation near the surface of the ground; and in this all
the prisoners assembled, with clubs and such other tools as
they could seize in passing through the workshops.
4. Knives, hammers, and chisels, with every variety of
such weapons, were in the hands of the ferocious spirits,
who are drawn away from their encroachments on society,
forming a congregation of strength, vileness, and talent
that can hardly be equaled on earth, even among the
famed brigands of Italy.
5. Men of all ages and characters, guilty of every variety
of infamous crime, dressed in the motley and peculiar garb
of the institution, and displaying the wild and demoniac
appearance that always pertains to imprisoned wretches,
were gathered together for the single purpose of preventing
the punishment which was to be inflicted on the morrow
upon their comrades.
6. The warden, the surgeon, and some other officers of
the prison were there at the time, and were alarmed at
the consequences likely to ensue from the conflict neces-
sary to restore order. They huddled together, and could
scarcely be said to consult, as the stoutest among them
lost all presence of mind in overwhelming fear. The news
FIFTH READER. 139
rapidly spread through the town, and a subordinate officer,
of the most mild and kind disposition, hurried to the scene,
and came calm and collected into the midst of the officers.
The most equable-tempered and the mildest man in the
government was in this hour of peril the firmest.
7. He instantly dispatched a request to Major Wain-
right, commander of the marines stationed at the Navy
Yard, for assistance, and declared his purpose to enter
into the hall and try the force of firm demeanor and per-
suasion upon the enraged multitude.
8. All his brethren exclaimed against an attempt so full
of hazard, but in vain. They offered him arms, a sword
and pistols, but he refused them, and said that he had no
fear, and, in case of danger, arms would do him no service ;
and alone, with only a little rattan, which was his usual
walking stick, he advanced into the hall to hold parley
with the selected, congregated, and enraged villains of the
whole commonwealth.
9. He demanded their purpose in thus coming together
with arms, in violation of the prison laws. They replied
that they were determined to obtain the remission of the
punishment of their three comrades. He said it was im-
possible ; the rules of the prison must be obeyed, and they
must submit.
10. At the hint of submission they drew a little nearer
together, prepared their weapons for service, and, as they
were dimly seen in the further end of the hall by those
who observed from the gratings that opened up to the day,
a more appalling sight can not be conceived, nor one of
more moral grandeur, than that of the single man stand-
ing within their grasp, and exposed to be torn limb from
limb instantly if a word or look should add to the already
intense excitement.
11. That excitement, too, was of a most dangerous kind.
It broke not forth in noise and imprecations, but was seen
only in the dark looks and the strained nerves that showed
140 ECLECTIC SERIES.
a deep determination. The officer expostulated. He re-
minded them of the hopelessness of escape ; that the town
was alarmed, and that the government of the prison would
submit to nothing but unconditional surrender. He said
that all those who would go quietly away should be for-
given for this offense; but that if every prisoner were
killed in the contest, power enough would be obtained to
enforce the regulations of the prison.
12. They replied that they expected that some would
be killed, that death would be better than such imprison-
ment; and, with that look and tone which bespeak an in-
domitable purpose, they declared that not a man should
leave the hall alive till the flogging was remitted. At
this period of the discussion their evil passions seemed to
be more inflamed, and one or two offered to destroy the
officer, who still stood firmer and with a more temperate
pulse than did his friends, who saw from above, but could
not avert, the danger that threatened him.
13. Just at this moment, and in about fifteen minutes
from the commencement of the tumult, the officer saw the
feet of the marines, on whose presence alone he relied for
succor, filing by the small upper lights. Without any appar-
ent anxiety, he had repeatedly turned his attention to their
approach ; and now he knew that it was his only time to
escape, before the conflict became, as was expected, one of
the most dark and dreadful in the world.
14. He stepped slowly backward, still urging them to
depart before the officers were driven to use the last resort
of firearms. When within three or four feet of the door,
it was opened, and closed instantly again as he sprang
through, and was thus unexpectedly restored to his friends.
15. Major Wainright was requested to order his men to
fire down upon the convicts through the little windows, first
with powder and then with ball, till they were willing to
retreat; but he took a wiser as well as a bolder course,
relying upon the effect which firm determination would have
FIFTH READER. 141
upon men so critically situated. He ordered the door to
be again opened, and marched in at the head of twenty or
thirty men, who filed through the passage, and formed at
the end of the hall opposite to the crowd of criminals hud-
dled together at the other.
16. He stated that he was empowered to quell the re-
bellion, that he wished to avoid shedding blood, but that
he would not quit that hall alive till every convict had
returned to his duty. They seemed balancing the strength
of the two parties, and replied that some of them were
ready to die, and only waited for an attack to see which
was the more powerful ; swearing that they would fight to
the last, unless the punishment was remitted, for they would
not submit to any such punishment in the prison. Major
Wainright ordered his marines to load their pieces, and,
that they might not be suspected of trifling, each man was
made to hold up to view the bullet which he afterward
put in his gun.
17. This only caused a growl of determination, and no
one blenched or seemed disposed to shrink from the fore-
most exposure. They knew that their number would enable
them to bear down and destroy the handful of marines
after the first discharge, and before their pieces could be
reloaded. Again they were ordered to retire; but they
answered with more ferocity than ever. The marines were
ordered to take their aim so as to be sure and kill as
many as possible. Their guns were presented, but not a
prisoner stirred, except to grasp more firmly his weapon.
18. Still desirous to avoid such a tremendous slaughter
as must have followed the discharge of a single gun, Major
Wainright advanced a step or two, and spoke even more
firmly than before, urging them to depart. Again, and
while looking directly into the muzzles of the guns which
they had seen loaded with ball, they declared their inten-
tion " to fight it out." This intrepid officer then took out
his watch, and told his men to hold their pieces aimed at
142 ECLECTIC SERIES.
the convicts, but not to fire till they had orders; then,
turning to the prisoners, he said: "You must leave this
hall ; I give you three minutes to decide ; if at the end of
that time a man remains, he shall be shot dead."
19. No situation of greater interest than this can be con-
ceived. At one end of the hall, a fearful multitude of the
most desperate and powerful men in existence, waiting for
the assault ; at the other, a little band of disciplined men,
waiting with arms presented, and ready, upon the least
motion or sign, to begin the carnage; and their tall and
imposing commander, holding up his watch to count the
lapse of three minutes, given as the reprieve to the lives
of hundreds. No poet or painter can conceive a spectacle
of more dark and terrible sublimity; no human heart can
conceive a situation of more appalling suspense.
20. For two minutes not a person nor a muscle moved ;
not a sound was heard in the unwonted stillness of the
prison, except the labored breathings of the infuriated
wretches, as they began to pant between fear and revenge :
at the expiration of two minutes, during which they had
faced the ministers of death with unblenching eyes, two
or three of those in the rear, and nearest the further
entrance, went slowly out ; a few more followed the exam-
ple, dropping out quietly and deliberately : and before half
of the last minute was gone, every man was struck by the
panic, and crowded for an exit, and the hall was cleared,
as if by magic.
21. Thus the steady firmness of moral force and the
strong effect of determination, acting deliberately, awed
the most savage men, and suppressed a scene of carnage,
which would have instantly followed the least precipitancy
or exertion of physical force.
J. T. Buckingham.
* It may be that more lofty courage dwells
In one weak heart which braves an adverse fate
Than does in his whose soul indignant swells,
Warmed by the fight, or cheered through high debate."
READER. 143
DEFINITIONS. 2. Ward'en, a keeper, one who guards. 4. En-
eroach'ment, unlawful intrusion on the rights of others. Brig'andg,
robbers, those who live by plunder. 5. Mot'ley, composed of various
colors. De-mo'ni-ae, devil-like. 6. Sub-or'di-nate, inferior in power.
7. Ma-rines', soldiers that serve on board of ships. De-mean'or, be-
havior, deportment. 8. Par'ley, conversation or conference with an
enemy. 9. Re-mis'sion (pro. re-mlsh'un), pardon of transgression*
11. Im-pre-ea'tions, curses, prayers for evil. Ex-pos'tu-lat-ed, rea-
soned earnestly. 12. In-dom'i-ta-ble, that can not be subdued or
tamed. 17. Blenched, gave way, shrunk. 18. In-trep'id, fearless.
19. Re-prieve', a delay of punishment. 21. Pre-^ip'i-tan-^y, headlong
hurry.
XLH. FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY.
Thomas Hood (6. 1798, d. 1845) was the son of a London bookseller.
After leaving school he undertook to learn the art of an engraver, but
soon turned his attention to literature. In 1821 he became sub-editor
of the "London Magazine." Hood is best known as a humorist; but
some of his poems are full of the tendcrest pathos ; and a gentle, humane
spirit pervades even his lighter productions. He was poor, and during
the last years of his life suffered much from ill health. Some of his
most humorous pieces were written on a sick bed.
1. BEN BATTLE was a soldier bold,
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!
2. Now, as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot,
For here I leave my second leg,
And the Forty-second Foot!"
3. The army surgeons made him limbs;
Said he, "They're only pegs:
But there's as wooden members quite,
As represent my legs!"
144 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. Now Ben, lie loved a pretty maid,
Her name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devoirs,
When he'd devoured his pay.
6. But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs,
Began to take them off!
6. "0 Nelly Gray! Nelly Gray!
Is this your love so warm?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform!"
7. Said she, "I loved a soldier once,
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave!
8. "Before you had these timber toes,
Your love I did allow,
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now ! "
9. "0 false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet some other man
Is standing in my shoes!
10. "I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death; alas!
You will not be my NELL!"
FIFTH READER. 145
11. Now when he went from Nelly Gray,
His heart so heavy got,
And life was such a burden grown,
It made him take a knot!
12. So round his melancholy neck,
A rope he did entwine,
And for the second time in life,
Enlisted in the Line!
13. One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs,
And, as his legs were off, of course
He soon was off his legs.
14. And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town:
For, though distress had cut him up,
It could not cut him down!
DEFINITIONS. 4. De-voirs' (French, pro. de-vw6r'), respects,
compliments. 5. Seoff, an object of ridicule. 6. U'ni-form (adj.),
consistent, (noun) military dress. 7. Blithe, me~ry, gay.
NOTES. 2. Forty-second Foot. Infantry in the army is spoken
of as " the foot," and the " Forty-second Foot " means the Forty-
second Regiment of Infantry.
3. Members. Persons elected to Parliament in Great Britain
are called " Members," and are said to represent those who elect
them.
12. The Line is another name for the regular infantry.
(6.-10.)
)46 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XLIII. THE GENEROUS RUSSIAN PEASANT.
1. LET Vergil sing the praises of Augustus, genius
celebrate merit, and flattery extol the talents of the
great. "The short and simple annals of the poor"
engross my pen ; and while I record the history of Flor
Silin's virtues, though I speak of a poor peasant, I shall
describe a noble man. I ask no eloquence to assist me
in the task ; modest worth rejects the aid of ornament to
set it off.
2. It is impossible, even at this distant period, to reflect
without horror on the miseries of that year known in Lower
Volga by the name of the "Famine Year/' I remember
the summer, whose scorching heats had dried up all the
fields, and the drought had no relief but from the tears of
the ruined farmer.
3. I remember the cold, comfortless autumn, and the
despairing rustics, crowding round their empty barns, with
folded arms and sorrowful countenances, pondering on their
misery, instead of rejoicing, as usual, at the golden har-
vest. I remember the winter which succeeded, and I re-
flect with agony on the miseries it brought with it.
Whole families left their homes to become beggars on the
highway.
4. At night the canopy of heaven served them as their
only shelter from the piercing winds and bitter frost. To
describe these scenes would be to harm the feelings of my
readers ; therefore, to my tale. In those days I lived on an
estate not far from Simbirsk; and, though but a child, I
have not forgotten the impression made on my mind by the
general calamity.
5. In a village adjoining lived Flor Silin, a poor, labor
ing peasant, a man remarkable for his assiduity and the
ski)i and judgment with which he cultivated his lands.
He was blessed with abundant crops ; and his means being
FIFTH READER. 147
larger than his wants, his granaries, even at this time, were
full of corn. The dry year coming on had beggared all the
village except himself. Here was an opportunity to grow
rich. Mark how Flor Silin acted. Having called the
poorest of his neighbors about him, he addressed them in
the following manner :
6. "My friends, you want corn for your subsistence.
God has blessed me with abundance. Assist in thrashing 1
out a quantity, and each of you take what he wants for his
family." The peasants were amazed at this unexampled
generosity; for sordid propensities exist in the village as
well as in the populous city.
7. The fame of Flor Silin's benevolence having reached
other villages, the famished inhabitants presented them-
selves before him, and begged for corn. This good creature
received them as brothers ; and, while his store remained,
afforded all relief. At length, his wife, seeing no end to
the generosity of his noble spirit, reminded him how neces-
sary it would be to think of their own wants, and hold his
lavish hand before it was too late. "It is written in the
Scripture," said he, "'Give, and it shall be given unto
you. 7 "
8. The following year Providence listened to the prayers
of the poor, and the harvest was abundant. The peasants
who had been saved from starving by Flor Silin now
gathered around him.
9. "Behold," said they, "the corn you lent us. You
saved our wives and children. We should have been fam-
ished but for you ; may God reward you ; he only can ; all
we have to give is our corn and grateful thanks." "I
want no corn at present, my good neighbors," said he;
" my harvest has exceeded all my expectations ; for the
rest, thank heaven: I have been but an humble instru-
ment."
10. They urged him in vain. "No," said he, "I shall
not accept your corn. If you have superfluities, share them
148 ECLECTIC SERIES.
among your poor neighbors, who, being unable to sow their
fields last autumn, are still in want ; let us assist them, my
dear friends ; the Almighty will bless us for it." " Yes,"
replied the grateful peasants, "our poor neighbors shall
have this corn. They shall know it is to you that they
owe this timely succor, and join to teach their children the
debt of gratitude due to your benevolent heart." Silin
raised his tearful eyes to heaven. An angel might have
envied him his feelings. _ NMai Karamzin .
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ex-tol', to elevate by praise. An'nals, history
of events. En-gross', to occupy wholly. El'o-quen9e, the power of
speaking well. 2. Drought (pro. drout), want of rain or water.
4. Es-tate', property in land. 5. Gran'a-ry, a storehouse for grain.
6. Sub-sist'en9e, means of support. Pro-pen'si-ties, bent of mind,
inclination. 10. Su-per-flu'i-ties, greater quantities than are wanted.
Sue'eor, aid, help.
NOTES. 1. Vergil was the greatest of Roman poets. He was
born in the year 70 B.C., and died 19 B.C.
Augustus Ccesar was emperor of Rome in the latter portion
of Vergil's life, and received many compliments in the verses
of his friend the poet.
2. Lower Volga is a district in eastern Russia, bordering on
the Caspian Sea, and takes its name from the river Volga.
4. Simbirsk is a town of eastern Russia, on the Volga.
XLIV. FORTY YEARS AGO.
1. I'VE wandered to the village, Tom,
I've sat beneath the tree,
Upon the schoolhouse playground,
That sheltered you and me;
But none were left to greet me, Tom,
And few were left to know,
Who played with me upon the green,
Just forty years ago.
FIFTH READER.
149
2. The grass was just as green, Tom,
Barefooted boys at play
Were sporting, just as we did then,
With spirits just as gay.
But the master sleeps upon the hill,
Which, coated o'er with snow,
Afforded us a sliding place,
Some forty years ago.
3. The old schoolhouse is altered some;
The benches are replaced
By new ones very like the same
Our jackknives had defaced.
But the same old bricks are in the wall,
The bell swings to and fro;
Its music's just the same, dear Tom,
'Twas forty years ago.
150 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill,
Close by the spreading beech,
Is very low ; 't was once so high
That we could almost reach;
And kneeling down to take a drink,
Dear Tom, I started so,
To think how very much I Ve changed
Since forty years ago.
5. Near by that spring, upon an elm,
You know, I cut your name,
Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom;
And you did mine the same.
Some heartless wretch has peeled the barkj
'Twas dying sure, but slow,
Just as that one whose name you cut
Died forty years ago.
6. My lids have long been dry, Tom,
But tears came in my eyes:
I thought of her I loved so well,
Those early broken ties.
I visited the old churchyard,
And took some flowers to strew
Upon the graves of those we loved
Just forty years ago.
7. Some are in the churchyard laid,
Some sleep beneath the sea;
And none are left of our old class
Excepting you and me.
And when our time shall come, Tom,
And we are called to go,
I hope we'll meet with those we loved
Some forty years ago.
FIFTB READER. 151
XLV. MRS. CAUDLE'S LECTURE.
Douglas Jerrold (6. 1803, d. 1857) was born in London. A midship-
man's appointment was obtained for him, but he quit the naval service
in a few years. He was then apprenticed to a printer. By improving his
leisure hours he made himself master of several languages, and formed
the habit of expressing his thoughts in writing An essay on the opera
of Der Freischutz was his first published literary production. Before he
was twenty-one years of age, he wrote " Black-eyed Susan," one of the
most popular dramas of modern times. Several other popular plays
followed this. He was a regular contributor to the London " Punch,"
from the second number, and edited, at different times, several papers
and magazines. As a humorist, he occupies the first rank. The most
noted of his works are his plays, and " Mrs Caudle's Curtain Lectures,"
" Saint Giles and Saint James," " Bubbles of a Day," and " Chronicles of
Clovernook."
1. WELL, Mr. Caudle, I hope you're in a little better
temper than you were this morning. There, you needn't
begin to whistle : people don't come to bed to whistle.
But it's like you; I can't speak that you don't try to
insult me. Once, I used to say you were the best creature
living : now, you get quite a fiend. Do let you rest ? No,
I won't let you rest. It 's the only time I have to talk to
you, and you shall hear me. I 'm put upon all day long :
it 's very hard if I can't speak a word at night ; besides, it
is n't often I open my mouth, goodness knows !
2. Because once in your lifetime your shirt wanted a
button, you must almost swear the roof off the house.
You did n't swear ? Ha, Mr. Caudle ! you don't know
what you do when you're in a passion. You were not
in a passion, wer'n't you? Well, then, I don't know
what a passion is; and I think I ought by this time.
I've lived long enough with you, Mr. Caudle, to know
that.
3. It 's a pity you hav'n't something worse to complain
of than a button off your shirt. If you'd some wives,
you would, I know. I 'm sure I 'm never without a needle
and thread in my hand ; what with you and the chil-
dren, I'm made a perfect slave of. And what's my
152 ECLECTIC SERIES.
thanks? Why, if once in your life a button's off your
shirt what do you cry " oh " at ? I say once, Mr. Caudle ;
or twice, or three times, at most. I'm sure, Caudle, no
man's buttons in the world are better looked after than
yours. I only wish I'd kept the shirts you had when
you were first married! I should like to know where
were your buttons then ?
4. Yes, it is worth talking of! But that's how you
always try to put me down. You fly into a rage, and
then if I only try to speak, you won't hear me. That's
how you men always will have all the talk to yourselves :
a poor woman is n't allowed to get a word in. A nice
notion you have of a wife, to suppose she's nothing to
think of but her husband's buttons. A pretty notion,
indeed, you have of marriage. Ha! if poor women only
knew what they had to go through ! what with buttons,
and one thing and another, they'd never tie themselves
up, no, not to the best man in the world, I'm sure.
What Would they do, Mr. Caudle? Why, do much bet-
ter without you, I 'm certain.
5. And it 's my belief, after all, that the button was n't
off the shirt; it's my belief that you pulled it off that
you might have something to talk about. Oh, you're
aggravating enough, when you like, for anything! All
I know is, it's very odd that the button should be off
the shirt; for I'm sure no woman's a greater slave to
her husband's buttons than I am. I only say it's very
odd.
6. However, there's one comfort; it can't last long.
I 'm worn to death with your temper, and sha' n't trouble
you a great while. Ha! you may laugh! And I dare
say you would laugh! I've no doubt of it! That's
your love; that's your feeling! I know that I'm sink-
ing every day, though I say nothing about it. And when
I 'm gone we shall see how your second wife will look
after your buttons! You'll find out the difference then.
FIFTH READER. 153
Yes, Caudle, you '11 think of me then ; for then, I hope,
you '11 never have a blessed button to your back.
7. No, I 'm not a vindictive woman, Mr. Caudle : no-
body ever called me that but you. What do you say?
Nobody ever kneiv so much of me ? That 's nothing at all
to do with it. Ha! I wouldn't have your aggravating
temper, Caudle, for mines of gold. It's a good thing
I 'm not as worrying as you are, or a nice house there 'd
be between us. I only wish you 'd had a wife that would
have talked to you! Then you'd have known the differ-
ence. But you impose upon me because, like a poor fool,
I say nothing. I should be ashamed of myself, Caudle.
8. And a pretty example you set as a father ! You '11
make your boys as bad as yourself. Talking as you did
all breakfast time about your buttons ! and of a Sunday
morning, too ! And you call yourself a Christian ! I
should like to know what your boys will say of you when
they grow up ! And all about a paltry button off one of
your wristbands ! A decent man would n't have men-
tioned it. Why don't I hold my tongue ? Because I won't
hold my tongue. I 'm to have my peace of mind destroyed
1 7 m to be worried into my grave for a miserable shirt
button, and I 'm to hold my tongue ! Oh ! but that 's just
like you men !
9. But I know what I'll do for the future. Every
button you have may drop off, and I won't so much as
put a thread to 'em. And I should like to know what
you '11 do then ! Oh, you must get somebody else to sew 'era,
must you ? That 's a pretty threat for a husband to hold
out to his wife ! And to such a wife as I 've been, too :
such a slave to your buttons, as I may say. Somebody else
to sew } em ? No, Caudle, no ; not while I 'm alive ! When
I'm dead and, with what I have to bear, there's no
knowing how soon that may be when I 'm dead, I say
oh ! what a brute you must be to snore so !
10. You 're not snoring ? Ha ! that 's what you always
154 ECLECTIC SERIES.
say ; but that 's nothing to do with it. You must get
somebody else to sew 'em, must you? Ha! I shouldn't
wonder. Oh, no ! I should be surprised at nothing now !
Nothing at all ! It 's what people have always told me it
would come to ; and now the buttons have opened my eyes !
But the whole world shall know of your cruelty, Mr.
Caudle. After the wife I 've been to you. Caudle, you 've
a heart like a hearthstone, you have !
DEFINITIONS. 5. Ag'gra-vat-ing, provoking, irritating. 6. Sink'-
ing, failing in strength. 7. Vin-die'tive, revengeful. 8. Pal'try, mean,
contemptible.
XL VI. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.
1. UNDER a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
2. His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
3. Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
FIFTH READER. 155
4. And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the naming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.
5. He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys ;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
6. It sounds to him like her mother's voice
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
7. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes ;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees its close ;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
8. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!
LongfeUow.
156 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XL VII. THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.
[From a letter to the "London Times," by a lady, the wife of an
officer at Lucknow.]
1. ON every side death, stared us in the face ; no human
skill could avert it any longer. We saw the moment
approach when we must bid farewell to earth, yet without
feeling that unutterable horror which must have been
experienced by the unhappy victims at Cawnpore. We
were resolved rather to die than to yield, and were fully
persuaded that in twenty-four hours all would be over.
The engineer had said so, and all knew the worst. We
women strove to encourage each other, and to perform
the light duties which had been assigned to us, such as
conveying orders to the batteries, and supplying the men
with provisions, especially cups of coffee, which we pre-
pared day and night.
2. I had gone out to try to make myself useful, in.
company with Jessie Brown, the wife of a corporal in
my husband's regiment. Poor Jessie had been in a state
of restless excitement all through the siege, and had fallen
away visibly within the last few days. A constant fever
consumed her, and her mind wandered occasionally, espe-
cially that day, when the recollections of home seemed
powerfully present to her. At last, overcome with fatigue,
she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her plaid.
I sat beside her, promising to awaken her when, as she
said, her " father should return from the plowing."
3. She fell at length into a profound slumber, motionless
and apparently breathless, her head resting in my lap. I
myself could no longer resist the inclination to sleep, in
spite of the continual roar of the cannon. Suddenly I
was aroused by a wild, unearthly scream close to my ear ;
my companion stood upright beside me, her arms raised,
and her head bent forward in the attitude of listening.
FIFTH READER. 157
4. A look of intense delight broke over her countenance ;
she grasped my hand, drew me toward her, and exclaimed :
" Dinna ye hear it ? dinna ye hear it ? Ay. I 'm no dream-
ing: it's the slogan o' the Highlanders! We're saved!
we're saved!" Then flinging herself on her knees, she
thanked God with passionate fervor. I felt utterly be-
wildered; my English ears heard only the roar of ar-
tillery, and I thought my poor Jessie was still raving;
but she darted to the batteries, and I heard her cry in-
cessantly to the men, " Courage ! courage ! Hark to the
slogan to the Macgregor, the grandest of them a ' ! Here 's
help at last ! "
5. To describe the effect of these words upon the soldiers
would be impossible. For a moment they ceased firing,
and every soul listened with intense anxiety. Gradually,
however, there arose a murmur of bitter disappointment,
and the wailing of the women, who had flocked to the
spot, burst out anew as the colonel shook his head. Our
dull Lowland ears heard only the rattle of the musketry.
A few moments more of this deathlike suspense, of this
agonizing hope, and Jessie, who had again sunk on the
ground, sprang to her feet, and cried in a voice so clear
and piercing that it was heard along the whole line, " Will
ye no believe it noo ? The slogan has ceased, indeed, but
the Campbells are comin' ! D' ye hear ? d' ye hear ? "
6. At that moment all seemed indeed to hear the voice
of God in the distance, when the pibroch of the High-
landers brought us tidings of deliverance; for now there
was no longer any doubt of the fact. That shrill, pene-
trating, ceaseless sound, which rose above all other sounds,
could come neither from the advance of the enemy nor.
from the work of the sappers. No, it was indeed the
blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now shrill and harsh, as
threatening vengeance on the foe, then in softer tones,
seeming to promise succor to their friends in need.
7. Never, surely, was there such a scene as that which
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followed. Not a heart in the residency of Lucknow but
bowed itself before God. All, by one simultaneous im-
pulse, fell upon their knees, and nothing was heard but
bursting sobs and the murmured voice of prayer. Then
all arose, and there rang out from a thousand lips a great
shout of joy, which resounded far and wide, and lent new
vigor to that blessed pibroch.
8. To our cheer of " God save the Queen/' they replied
by the well-known strain that moves every Scot to tears,
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot." After that, noth-
ing else made any impression on me. I scarcely remem-
ber what followed. Jessie was presented to the general
on his entrance into the fort, and at the officers' banquet
her health was drunk by all present, while the pipers
marched around the table playing once more the familiar
air of " Auld Lang Syne."
DEFINITIONS. 1. A-vert/, to turn aside. En-gi-neer', an officer
in the army, who designs and constructs defensive and offensive works.
2. Siege, the setting of an army around a fortified place to compel its
surrender. 3. Profound', deep. 4. Slo'gan, the war cry or gather-
ing word of a Highland clan in Scotland. Fer'vor, intensity of feel-
ing. 6. Pi'broeh, a wild, irregular species of music belonging to the
Highlands of Scotland; it is performed on a bagpipe. Sap'pers, men
employed in making an approach to a fortified place by digging.
7. Reg'i-den-cy, the official dwelling of a government officer in India.
Sl-mul-ta'ne-ous, happening at the same time.
NOTES. Lucknow, a city in the British possession of India. In
1857 there was a mutiny of the native troops, and the British
garrison of 1700 men was besieged by 10,000 mutineers. After
twelve weeks' siege, fresh British troops forced an entrance, and
the town was held until relieved three weeks later by the arrival
of Sir Colin Campbell, as above described.
1. Cawnpore, also a city of India, near Lucknow, which was
besieged during the mutiny. After surrendering, the English,
two thirds of whom were women and children, were treacherously
massacred.
FIFTH READER. 159
4. The inhabitants of the northern part of Scotland are called
Highlanders; those of the southern part, Lowlanders. The dia-
lect of the former is very peculiar, as shown in the language of
Jessie Brown; as, dinna for did not, a' for all, no for not, noo for
now, auld for old. Macgregor and Campbell are names of High-
land clans or families.
Whittier's poem, " The Pipes at Lucknow," and Robert T. S.
Lowell's " The Relief of Lucknow," are descriptive of this same
incident.
XLVHI. THE SNOWSTORM.
James Thomson (6. 1700, d. 1748) was born at Ednam, in the shire of
Roxburgh, Scotland. He was educated at the University of Edinburgh,
and afterwards studied for the ministry, but in a short time changed his
plans and devoted himself to literature. His early poems are quite insig-
nificant, but " The Seasons," from which the following selection is taken,
and the " Castle of Indolence," are masterpieces of English poetry.
1. THROUGH the hushed air the whitening shower descends,
At first thin wavering; till at last the flakes
Fall broad and wide and fast, dimming the day,
With a continual flow. The cherished fields
Put on their winter robe of purest white.
'Tis brightness all: save where the new snow melts
Along the mazy current.
2. Low the woods
Bow their hoar head; and ere the languid sun
Faint from the west emits its evening ray,
Earth's universal face, deep-hid and chill,
Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide
The works of man.
3. Drooping, the laborer ox
Stands covered o'er with snow, and then demands
The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven,
Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around
The winnowing store, and claim the little boon
Which Providence assigns them.
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4. One alone,
The Eedbreast, sacred to the household gods,
Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky,
In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves
His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man
His annual visit.
5. Half-afraid, he first
Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights
On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor,
Eyes all the smiling family askance,
And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is;
Till, more familiar grown, the table crumbs
Attract his slender feet.
6. The foodless wilds
Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare,
Though timorous of heart, and hard beset
By death in various forms, dark snares and dogs,
And more unpitying men, the garden seeks,
Urged on by fearless want. The bleating kind
Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth,
With looks of dumb despair; then, sad dispersed,
Dig for the withered herb through heaps of snow
7. Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind,
Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens
With food at will; lodge them below the storm,
And watch them strict; for from the bellowing east,
In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing
Sweeps up the burden of whole wintry plains
In one wide waft, and o'er the hapless flocks,
Hid in the hollow of two neighboring hills,
The billowy tempest 'whelms; till, upward urged,
The valley to a shining mountain swells,
Tipped with a wreath high-curling in the sky
FIFTH READER. 161
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ma'zy, winding. 2. Hoar, white or grayish
white. E-mits', sends forth, throws out, 3. Wm'now-ing, separat-
ing chajf from grain by means of wind. Boon, a gift. 4. Em-
broil'ing, throwing into disorder or contention. 5. A-skan^e', side-
ways. 6. Wilds, woods, forests. Be-set', hemmed in on all sides so
that escape is difficult. 7. Dire, dreadful, terrible. Waft, a current
of wind. Whelms', covers completely.
NOTE. 4. Household gods. An allusion to the belief of the
ancient Romans in the Penates certain gods who were supposed
to protect the household and all connected with it. The idea
here expressed is, that the Redbreast was secure from harm.
XLIX. BEHIND TIME.
1. A RAILROAD train was rushing along at almost light-
ning speed. A curve was just ahead, beyond which was a
station where two trains usually met. The conductor was
late, so late that the period during which the up train
was to wait had nearly elapsed ; but he hoped yet to pass
the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed into sight
right ahead. In an instant there was a collision. A shriek,
a shock, and fifty souls were in eternity ; and all because
an engineer had been behind time.
2. A great battle was going on. Column after column
had been precipitated for eight hours on the enemy posted
along the ridge of a hill. The summer sun was sinking in
the west ; ree'nf orcements for the obstinate defenders were
already in sight; it was necessary to carry the position
with one final charge, or everything would be lost.
3. A powerful corps had been summoned from across
the country, and if it came up in season all would yet be
well. The great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed
his reserve into an attacking column, and ordered them to
charge the enemy. The whole world knows the result.
Grouchy failed to appear j the imperial guard was beaten
(5. 11.)
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back ; and Waterloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at
St. Helena because one of his marshals was behind time.
4. A leading firm in commercial circles had long strug-
gled against bankruptcy. As it had large sums of money
in California, it expected remittances by a certain day, and
if they arrived, its credit, its honor, and its future pros-
perity would be preserved. But week after week elapsed
without bringing the gold. At last came the fatal day on
which the firm had bills maturing to large amounts. The
steamer was telegraphed at daybreak ; but it was found, on
inquiry, that she brought no funds, and the house failed.
The next arrival brought nearly half a million to the in-
solvents, but it was too late; they were ruined because
their agent, in remitting, had been behind time.
5. A condemned man was led out for execution. He
had taken human life, but under circumstances of the
greatest provocation, and public sympathy was active in
his behalf. Thousands had signed petitions for a reprieve ;
a favorable answer had been expected the night before, and
though it had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that
it would yet arrive. Thus the morning passed without the
appearance of the messenger.
6. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place,
the cap was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and
a lifeless body swung revolving in the wind. Just at that
moment a horseman came into sight, galloping down hill,
his steed covered with foam. He carried a packet in his
right hand, which he waved frantically to the crowd. He
was the express rider with the reprieve ; but he came too
late. A comparatively innocent man had died an igno-
minious death because a watch had been five minutes too
late, making its bearer arrive behind time.
7. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the
most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal
of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed,
because somebody is "behind time." There are men who
FIFTH READER. 163
always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because
they are "behind time." There are others who put off
reformation year after year, till death seizes them, and
they perish unrepentant, because forever "behind time."
DEFINITIONS. 1. Col-l$'sion, the act of striking together violently.
2. Pre-^ip'i-tat-ed, urged on violently. Re-en-for^e'ments, additional
troops. 3. Corps (pro. kor), a body of troops. Re-serve', a select
body of troops held back in case of special need for their services.
4. Bank'rupt-c,y, inability to pay all debts, insolvency. Re-mit'tanc-es,
money, drafts, etc., sent from a distance. Ma-tur'ing, approaching the
time fixed for payment. 5. Prov-o-ea'tion, that which causes anger.
6. Ig-no-min'i-ous, infamous. 7. Weal, prosperity, happiness.
XOTES. 3. Emmanuel Grouchy was one of Napoleon's marshals
at the battle of Waterloo, fought in 1815, between the French
under Napoleon, and the English, Dutch, and German troops
under Wellington.
Napoleon Bonaparte (b. 1769, d. 1821) was born on the island
of Corsica. At school he was "studious, well-behaved, and dis-
tinguished in mathematical studies." In 1785 he was commis-
sioned as a sublieutenant in the army. From this obscure position
he raised himself to the head of the army, and in 1804 was elected
emperor of the French. He is almost universally acknowledged
to have been the greatest general the world has known.
L. THE OLD SAMPLER.
1. OUT of the way, in a corner
Of our dear old attic room,
Where bunches of herbs from the hillside
Shake ever a faint perfume,
An oaken chest is standing,
With hasp and padlock and key,
Strong as the hands that made it
On the other side of the sea.
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2. When the winter days are dreary,
And we're out of heart with life,
Of its crowding cares aweary,
And sick of its restless strife,
We take a lesson in patience
From the attic corner dim,
Where the chest still holds its treasures,
A warder faithful and grim.
3. Robes of an antique fashion,
Linen and lace and silk,
That time has tinted with saffron,
Though once they were white as milk;
Wonderful baby garments,
'Broidered with loving care
By fingers that felt the pleasure,
As they wrought the ruffles fair;
4. A sword, with the red rust on it,
That flashed in the battle tide,
When from Lexington to Yorktown
Sorely men's souls were tried;
A plumed chapeau and a buckle,
And many a relic fine,
And, all by itself, the sampler,
Framed in with berry and vine.
5. Faded the square of canvas,
And dim is the silken thread,
But I think of white hands dimpled,
And a childish, sunny head;
For here in cross and in tent stitch,
In a wreath of berry and vine,
She worked it a hundred years ago,
Nine."
FIFTH READER.
166
6. In and out in the sunshine,
The little needle flashed,
And in and out on the rainy day,
When the merry drops down plashed,
As close she sat by her mother,
The little Puritan maid,
And did her piece in the sampler,
While the other children played.
7. You are safe in the beautiful heaven,
"Elizabeth, aged nine;"
But before you went you had troubles
Sharper than any of mine.
Oh, the gold hair turned with sorrow
White as the drifted snow.
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
And your tears dropped here where I'm standing,
On this very plumed chapeau.
8. When you put it away, its wearer
Would need it nevermore,
By a sword thrust learning the secrets
God keeps on yonder shore;
And you wore your grief like glory,
You could not yield supine,
Who wrought in your patient childhood,
Nine."
FIFTH READER. 167
9. Out of the way, in a corner,
With hasp and padlock and key,
Stands the oaken chest of my fathers
That came from over the sea;
And the hillside herbs above it
Shake odors fragrant and fine,
And here on its lid is a garland
To "Elizabeth, aged nine."
10. For love is of the immortal,
And patience is sublime,
And trouble a thing of every day,
And touching every time ;
And childhood sweet and sunny,
And womanly truth and grace,
Ever can light life's darkness
And bless earth's lowliest place.
Mrs. M. E. Sangster.
DEFINITIONS 2. "Ward'er, a keeper, a guard. 3. An-tique', old,
ancient. Saffron, a deep yellow. 4. Cha-peau', a hat. 8. Su-pme',
listless. 10. Im-mor'tal, undying.
NOTES. 6. Puritan. The Puritans "were a religious sect who
fled from persecution in England, and afterwards settled the most
of New England.
A sampler is a needlework pattern; a species of fancywork
formerly much in vogue.
LI. THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
1. BLESS the Lord, my soul ! Lord, my God, thou
art very great ; thou art clothed with honor and majesty :
who coverest thyself with light as with a garment; who
stretchest out the heavens like a curtain; who layeth the
168 ECLECTIC SERIES.
beams of his chambers in the waters; who maketh the
clouds his chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the
wind; who maketh his angels spirits, his ministers a nam-
ing fire; who laid the foundations of the earth, that it
should not be removed forever.
2. Thou coveredst it with the deep as with a garment:
the waters stood above the mountains. At thy rebuke
they fled; at the voice of thy thunder they hasted away.
They go up by the mountains; they go down by the val-
leys unto the place which thou hast founded for them.
Thou hast set a bound which they may not pass over;
that they turn not again to cover the earth.
3. He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run
among the hills. They give drink to every beast of the
field; the wild asses quench their thirst. By them shall
the fowls of the heaven have their habitation, which sing
among the branches. He watereth the hills from his
chambers; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy
works.
4. He caused the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb
for the service of man, that he may bring forth food out
of the earth; and wine that maketh glad the heart of
man, and oil to make his face to shine, and bread which
strengthened man's heart.
5. The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of
Lebanon, which he hath planted, where the birds make
their nests: as for the stork, the fir trees are her house.
The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats, and the
rocks for the conies.
6. He appointed the moon for seasons; the sun know-
eth his going down. Thou makest darkness, and it is
night, wherein all the beasts of the forest do creep forth.
The young lions roar after their prey, and seek their meat
from God. The sun ariseth, they gather themselves to-
gether, and lay them down in their dens. Man goeth forth
unto his work, and to his labor until the evening.
FIFTH READER, 169
7. Lord, how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast
thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches. So
is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping
innumerable, both small and great beasts. There go the
ships: there is that leviathan, whom thou hast made to
play therein. These wait all upon thee, that thou mayest
give them their meat in due season.
8. That thou givest them they gather ; thou openest thine
hand, they are filled with good. Thou hidest thy face, they
are troubled ; thou takest away their breath, they die, and
return to their dust. Thou sendest forth thy Spirit, they
are created ; and thou renewest the face of the earth.
9. The glory of the Lord shall endure forever : the Lord
shall rejoice in his works. He looketh on the earth, and it
trembleth : he toucheth the hills, and they smoke.
10. that men would praise the Lord for his goodness,
and for his wonderful works to the children of men ! And
let them sacrifice the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare
his works with rejoicing.
11. give thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name;
make known his deeds among the people. Sing unto him,
sing psalms unto him : talk ye of all his wondrous works.
Glory ye in his holy name : let the heart of them rejoice
that seek the Lord. Seek the Lord, and his strength;
seek his face evermore.
12. Remember his marvelous works that he hath done ;
his wonders, and the judgments of his mouth. He is the
Lord our God; his judgments are in all the earth. I
will sing unto the Lord as long as I live: I will sing
praise to my God while I have my being.
Extracts from the Bible.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Found'ed, built, established. 3. Hab-i-ta'-
tion, place of abode. 5. Refuge, shelter, protection. Co'ny, a
kind of rabbit. 6. Ap-point'ed, ordained.
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.-^5. Cedars of Lebanon. A species of cedar, of great
magnificence, formerly abundant in Mt. Lebanon and the Taurus
Range in Asia Minor, but now almost entirely destroyed. The
wood is durable and fragrant, and was used in the construction
of costly buildings, such as the palace of David and Solomon's
Temple.
7. Leviathan. This name is applied in the Old Testament to
some huge water animal. In some cases it appears to mean the
crocodile, but in others the whale or a large sea serpent.
LII. MY MOTHER.
1. OFTEN into folly straying,
0, my mother! how I've grieved her!
Oft I've heard her for me praying,
Till the gushing tears relieved her;
And she gently rose and smiled,
Whispering, "God will keep my child."
2. She was youthful then, and sprightly,
Fondly on my father leaning,
Sweet she spoke, her eyes shone brightly,
And her words were full of meaning;
Now, an autumn leaf decayed;
I, perhaps, have made it fade.
3. But, whatever ills betide thee,
Mother, in them all I share;
In thy sickness watch beside thee,
And beside thee kneel in prayer.
Best of mothers ! on my breast
Lean thy head, and sink to rest
FIFTH READER. 171
LIII. THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
Felicia Dorothea Hemans (b. 1794, d. 1835) was born in Liverpool,
England. Her maiden name was Browne. Her childhood was spent in
Wales. Her first volume of poems was published in 1808; her second in
1812. In 1812 she was married to Captain Hemans, but he- left her about
six years after their marriage, and they never again lived together. She
went, with her five sons, to reside with her mother, then living near
St. Asaph, in North Wales. Mrs. Hemans then resumed her literary pur-
suits, and wrote much and well. Her poetry is smooth and graceful, and
she excels in description. Many of her poems are exceedingly beautiful.
1. CHILD, amid the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye,
Ever following silently;
Father, by the breeze at eve
Called thy harvest work to leave;
Pray! Ere yet the dark hours be,
Lift the heart, and bend the knee.
2. Traveler, in the stranger's land,
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world gone;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;
Sailor, on the darkening sea;
Lift the heart and bend the knee.
3. Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set of sun;
Woman, o'er the lowly slain
Weeping on his burial plain;
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,
Kindred by one holy tie,
Heaven's first star alike ye see;
Lift the heart, and bend the knee.
172 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LIV. THE WILL.
Characters. SWIPES, a brewer; CURRIE, a saddler; FRANK
MILLINGTON ; and SQUIRE DRAWL.
Swipes. A SOBER occasion, this, brother Currie. Who
would have thought the old lady was so near her end ?
Currie. Ah ! we must all die, brother Swipes ; and those
who live the longest outlive the most.
Swipes. True, true; but, since we must die and leave
our earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such
good care of us. Had the old lady her senses when, she
departed ?
Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. Squire Drawl told me she
read every word of the will aloud, and never signed her
name better.
Swipes. Had you any hint from the Squire what dispo-
sition she made of her property ?
Cur. Not a whisper ; the Squire is as close as an under-
ground tomb; but one of the witnesses hinted to me that
she had cut off her graceless nephew, Frank, without a
shilling.
Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she ? You know I come
in, then, in right of my wife.
Cur. And I in my own right ; and this is no doubt the
reason why we have been called to hear the reading of
the will. Squire Drawl knows how things should be done,
though he is as air-tight as one of your beer barrels. But
here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a
matter of course, you know. [Enter FRANK MILLINGTON.]
Your servant, young gentleman. So your benefactress has
left you at last.
Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good
friends, Mr. Millington.
Frank. It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better
FIFTH READER 173
had I not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She
was my only friend, and I knew not her value.
Cur. It is too late to repent, Master Millington. You
will now have a chance to earn your own bread.
Swipes. Ay, ay, by the sweat of your brow, as better
people are obliged to. You would make a fine brewer's
boy, if you were not too old.
Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein.
Frank. Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has
treated me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and
only hope you will bear your fortune as modestly as I
shall mine submissively. I shall retire. [Going : he meets
SQUIRE DRAWI,.]
Squire. Stop, stop, young man. We must have your
presence. Good morning, gentlemen-, you are early on
the ground.
Cur. I hope the Squire is well to-day.
Squire. Pretty comfortable, for an invalid.
Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs
again.
Squire. No, I believe not. But, since the heirs at law
are all convened, I shall now proceed to open the last
will and testament of your deceased relative, according
to law.
Swipes. [While the SQUIRE is breaking the sea/.] It is a
trying thing to leave all one's possessions, Squire, in this
manner.
Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy when I look
around and see everything but the venerable owner of
these goods. Well did the Preacher say, " All is vanity."
Squire. Please to be seated, gentlemen. [He puts on his
spectacles and begins to read slowly."] "Imprimis; whereas,
my nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and
ungrateful conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my
bounty, and incapable of managing my large estate, I do
hereby give and bequeath all my houses, farms, stocks,
174 ECLECTIC SERIES.
bonds, moneys, and property, both, personal and real, to
my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer,
and Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler." [The
SQUIRE here takes off his spectacles, and begins to wipe them
very leisurely.]
Swipes. Generous creature ! kind soul ! I always loved
her!
Cur. She was good, she was kind; and, brother Swipes,
when we divide, I think I '11 take the mansion house.
Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie. My wife
has long had her eye upon that, and must have it.
Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr.
Swipes. And, besides, I ought to have the first choice.
Did I not lend her a new chaise every time she wished
to ride ? And who knows what influence
Swipes. Am I not named first in her will ? and did I
not furnish her with my best small beer for more than
six months? And who knows
Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you. [Going.']
Squire. [Putting on his spectacles very deliberately.'] Pray,
gentlemen, keep your seats, I have not done yet. Let me
see ; where was I ? Ay, " All my property, both personal
and real, to my dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt
Street, brewer,"
Swipes. Yes !
Squire. "And Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler,"
Cur. Yes!
Squire. "To have and to hold, IN TRUST, for the sole
and exclusive benefit of my nephew, Francis Millington,
until he shall have attained the age of twenty-one years,
by which time I hope he will have so far reformed his
evil habits, as that he may safely be intrusted with the
large fortune which I hereby bequeath to him."
Swipes. What ip all this ? You don't mean that we are
humbugged? Intrust! How does that appear ? Where
is it?
FIFTH READER. 175
Squire. There ; in two words of as good old English as I
ever penned.
Cur. Pretty well, too, Mr. Squire, if we must be sent
for to be made a laughingstock of. She shall pay for
every ride she has had out of my chaise, I promise you.
Swipes. And for every drop of my beer. Fine times, if
two sober, hard-working citizens are to be brought here to
be made the sport of a graceless profligate. But we will
manage his property for him, Mr. Currie; we will make
him feel that trustees are not to be trifled with.
Cur. That we will.
Squire. Not so fast, gentlemen; for the instrument is
dated three years ago ; and the young gentleman must be
already of age, and able to take care of himself. Is it
not so, Francis ?
Frank. It is, your worship.
Squire. Then, gentlemen, having attended to the break-
ing of the seal, according to law, you are released from any
further trouble about the business.
DEFINITIONS. Dis-po-si'tion, disposal. G^e'less, depraved,
corrupt. Rep'ro-bate, one morally lost. Lack'ey, an attending
servant, a footman. Deceased', dead. Con-vened', met together,
assembled. Im-pri'mis (Latin"), in the first place. Chaise (pro.
shaz), a kind of two-wheeled carriage. Re-formed', returned to a
good state. Prof'li-gate, a person openly and shamelessly vicious.
In'stru-ment (a term in law), a writing expressive of some act, con-
tract, etc.
NOTES. Terms having the same, or nearly the same, meaning,
as, " will and testament," " give and bequeath," " to have and to
hold," " sole and exclusive," are commonly joined in this way in
legal documents.
Personal property usually consists of things temporary and
movable, while real property includes things fixed and immovable,
such as lands and tenements.
176 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LV. THE NOSE AND THE EYES.
William Cowper (b. 1731, d. 1800) was the son of an English clergyman,
and was born in Great Berkhampstead, Hertfordshire, England. He was
sent to Westminster School when he was ten years of age, and he re-
mained there, a diligent student, eight years. He then studied law, and
was admitted to the bar, but he never practiced his profession. He was
appointed to a clerkship in the House of Lords when he was about thirty
years old, but he never entered upon the discharge of his duties. He be-
came insane, and was sent to a private asylum. After his recovery, he
found a home in the family of the Rev. Mr. Unwin. On the death of this
gentleman, he resided with the widow till her death most of the time at
Olney. His first writings were published in 1782. " The Task," some
hymns, a number of minor poems, and his translations of Homer, com-
posed his published works. His insanity returned at times, and darkened
a pure and gentle life at its close.
1. BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose;
The spectacles set them, unhappily, wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong.
2. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause,
With a great deal of skill and a wig full of learning,
"While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.
3. "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,
And your lordship," he said, " will undoubtedly find,
That the Nose has the spectacles always to wear,
Which amounts to possession, time out of mind."
4. Then, holding the spectacles up to the court,
" Your lordship observes, they are made with a straddle
As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short,
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.
6. "Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
('T is a case that has happened, and may happen again)
That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,
Pray, who would or who could wear spectacles then ?
FIFTH READER. 177
6. "On the whole it appears, and my argument shows,
With a reasoning the court will never condemn,
That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,
And the Nose was as plainly intended for them."
7. Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how),
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes:
But what were his arguments, few people know,
For the court did not think them equally wise.
8. So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone,
Decisive and clear, without one if or but,
That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,
By daylight or candlelight, Eyes should be shut.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Ar'gued, discussed, treated by reasoning. Dis-
<jern'ing (pro. diz-zern'ing), marking as different, distinguishing.
3. Be-half', support, defense. 8. De-ereed', determined judicially by
authority, ordered.
LVI. AN ICEBERG.
Louis Legrand Noble (6. 1813, d. 1882) was born in Otsego County,
New York. When twelve years of age, he removed with his family to the
wilds of Michigan, but after the death of his father he returned to New
York to study for the ministry, which he entered in 1840. About this
time he published his first productions, two Indian romances in the form
of poems, entitled " Pewatem " and " Nimahmin." Mr. Noble lived for a
time in North Carolina, and later at Catskill on the Hudson, where he
became a warm friend of the artist Cole. After the latter's death he
wrote a memorial of him. Other works of this author are "The Hours,
and other Poems," and " After Icebergs with a Painter," from which this
selection is taken.
1. WE have just passed a fragment of some one of the
surrounding icebergs that had amused us. It bore the
resemblance of a huge polar bear, reposing upon the base
of an inverted cone, with a twist of a seashell, and whirl-
ing slowly round and round. The ever-attending green
(6. 12.)
178 ECLECTIC SERIES.
water, with its aerial clearness, enabled us to see its spiral
folds and horns as they hung suspended in the deep.
2. The bear, a ten-foot mass in tolerable proportion,
seemed to be regularly beset by a pack of hungry little
swells. First, one would take him on the haunch, then
whip back into the sea over his tail and between his legs.
Presently a bolder swell would rise and pitch into his
back with a ferocity that threatened instant destruction.
It only washed his satin fleece the whiter.
3. While Bruin was turning to look the daring assailant
in the face, the rogue had pitched himself back into his
cave. No sooner that, than a very bulldog of a billow
would attack him in the face. The serenity with which
the impertinent assault was borne was complete. It was
but a puff of silvery dust, powdering his mane with fresher
brightness. Nothing would be left of bull but a little froth
of all the foam displayed in the fierce onset. He too would
turn and scud into his hiding place.
4. Persistent little waves! After a dash, singly, all
around, upon the common enemy, as if by some silent
agreement underwater, they would all rush on at once,
with their loudest roar and shaggiest foam, and overwhelm
poor bear so completely that nothing less might be ex-
pected than to behold him broken in four quarters, and
floating helplessly asunder. Mistaken spectators! Al-
i though, by his momentary rolling and plunging, he was
evidently aroused, yet neither Bruin nor his burrow was
at all the worse for all the wear and washing.
5. The deep fluting, the wrinkled folds, and cavities,
over and through which the green and silvery water
rushed back into the sea, rivaled the most exquisite
sculpture. And nature not only gives her marbles, with
the finest lines, the most perfect lights and shades, she
colors them also. She is no monochromist, but polychroic,
imparting such touches of dove tints, emerald, and azure
as she bestows upon her gems and skies.
FIFTH READER. 179
6. We are bearing up under the big berg as closely
as we dare. To our delight, what we have been wishing
and watching for is actually taking place : loud explosions,
with heavy falls of ice, followed by the cataract-like roar, and
the high, thin seas, wheeling away beautifully crested with
sparkling foam. If it is possible, imagine the effect upon
the beholder : this precipice of ice, with tremendous crack-
ing, is falling toward us with a majestic and awful motion.
7. Down sinks the long water line into the black deep ;
down go the porcelain crags and galleries of glassy sculp-
ture a speechless and awful baptism. Now it pauses, and
returns: up rise sculptures and crags streaming with the
shining white brine; up comes the great encircling line,
followed by things new and strange crags, niches, bal-
conies, and caves ; up, up, it rises, higher and higher still,
crossing the very breast of the grand ice, and all bathed
with rivulets of gleaming foam. Over goes the summit,
ridge, pinnacles, and all, standing off obliquely in the
opposite air. Now it pauses in its upward roll: back it
comes again, cracking, cracking, cracking, "groaning out
harsh thunder " as it comes, and threatening to burst, like
a mighty bomb, into millions of glittering fragments. The
spectacle is terrific and magnificent. Emotion is irrepress-
ible, and peals of wild hurrah burst forth from all.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Cone, a solid body having a circular base, from
which it tapers gradually to a point. 2. Swells, waves. 3. Se-ren'-
fc-ty, quietness, calmness. 5. Ex'qui-site, exceedingly nice, giving
rare satisfaction. Seulp'ture, carved work. M6n'o-ehr6-mist, one
who paints in a single color. Pol-y-ehrd'ie, given to the use of many
colors. 7. Pin'na-eles, high, spirelike points. Ob-lique'ly, slant-
ingly. Ir-re-press'i-ble, not to be restrained.
;NOTE. Only about one eighth of an iceberg appears above
the surface of the water. When one side of it grows heavier
than another, through unequal melting and the action of the
waves, the whole mass rolls over in the water in the manner so
well described in this lesson.
180 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LVII. ABOUT QUAIL.
William Post Hawes (&. 1803, d.1842) was born in New York City, and
was a graduate of Columbia College. He was a lawyer by profession.
His writings consist mainly of essays, contributed to various newspapers
and magazines, and show great descriptive power. He was a frequent
contributor to the " Spirit of the Times," under the title of " Cypress, Jr.,"
on various sporting topics. After his death a collection of his writings
was published in two volumes, entitled, " Sporting Scenes " and " Sundry
Sketches."
1. THE quail is peculiarly a domestic bird, and is at-
tached to his birthplace and the home of his forefathers.
The various members of the aquatic families educate their
children in the cool summer of the far north, and bathe
their warm bosoms in July in the iced waters of Hudson
Bay ; but when Boreas scatters the rushes where they had
builded their bedchambers, they desert their fatherland, and
fly to disport in the sunny waters of the south.
2. The songsters of the woodland, when their customary
crops of insects and berries are cut off in the fall, gather
themselves to renew their loves and get married in more
genial climes. Presently, the groves so vocal, and the sky
so full, shall be silent and barren. The " melancholy days "
will soon be here ; only thou, dear Bob White, wilt remain.
3. The quail is the bird for me. He is no rover, no
emigrant. He stays at home, and is identified with the
soil. Where the farmer works, he lives, and loves, and
whistles. In budding springtime, and in scorching sum-
mer in bounteous autumn, and in barren winter, his voice
is heard from the same bushy hedge fence, and from his
customary cedars. Cupidity and cruelty may drive him
to the woods, and to seek more quiet seats ; but be merci-
ful and kind to him, and he will visit your barnyard, and
sing for you upon the boughs of the apple tree by your
gateway.
4. When warm May first wooes the young flowers to
open and receive her breath, then begin the cares and re-
FIFTH READER.
181
sponsibilities of wedded life. Away fly the happy pair to
seek some grassy tussock, where, safe from the eye of the
hawk and the nose of the fox, they may rear their expectant
brood in peace.
182 ECLECTIC SERIES.
5. Oats harvest arrives, and the fields are waving with
yellow grain. Now be wary, kind-hearted cradler, and
tread not into those pure white eggs ready to burst with
life ! Soon there is a peeping sound heard, and lo ! a
proud mother walketh magnificently in the midst of her
children, scratching and picking, and teaching them how
to swallow. Happy she, if she may be permitted to bring
them up to maturity, and uncompelled to renew her joys
in another nest.
6. The assiduities of a mother have a beauty and a
sacredness about them that command respect and rever-
ence in all animal nature, human or inhuman what a lie
does that word carry except, perhaps, in monsters, insects,
and fish. I never yet heard of the parental tenderness of
a trout, eating up his little baby, nor of the filial gratitude
of a spider, nipping the life out of his gray-headed father,
and usurping his web.
7. But if you would see the purest, the sincerest, the
most affecting piety of a parent's love, startle a young
family of quails, and watch the conduct of the mother.
She will not leave you. No, not she. But she will fall
at your feet, uttering a noise which none but a distressed
mother can make, and she will run, and flutter, and seem
to try to be caught, and cheat your outstretched hand,
and affect to be wing-broken and wounded, and yet have
just strength to tumble along, until she has drawn you,
fatigued, a safe distance from her threatened children and
the young hopes of her heart; and then will she mount,
whirring with glad strength, and away through the maze
of trees you have not seen before, like a close-shot bullet,
fly to her skulking infants.
8. Listen now. Do you hear those three half-plaintive
notes, quickly and clearly poured out ? She is calling the
boys and girls together. She sings not now " Bob White ! "
nor "Ah! Bob White!" That is her husband's love call,
or his trumpet blast of defiance. But she calls sweetly and
FIFTH READER. 183
softly for her lost children. Hear them "Peep! peep!
peep ! " at the welcome voice of their mother's love ! They
are coming together. Soon the whole family will meet
again.
9. It is a foul sin to disturb them; but retread your
devious way, and let her hear your coming footsteps,
breaking down the briers, as you renew the danger. She
is quiet. Not a word is passed between the fearful fugi-
tives. Now, if you have the heart to do it, lie low, keep
still, and imitate the call of the hen quail. mother I
mother! how your heart would die if you could witness
the deception! The little ones raise up their trembling
heads, and catch comfort and imagined safety from the
sound. " Peep ! peep ! " They come to you, straining their
little eyes, and, clustering together and answering, seem to
say, " Where is she ? Mother ! mother ! we are here ! "
DEFINITIONS. 1. A-quat'ie, frequenting the water. 2. Vo'eal,
having a voice. 3. I-den'ti-fled, united. Cu-pid'i-ty, eager desire to
possess something. 4. Tus'sock, a tuft of grass or twigs. 5. Cra'dler,
one who uses a cradle, which is an instrument attached to a scythe in
cutting grain. 6. U-surp'ing, seizing and holding in possession by
force. 7. Af-feet', to pretend. 9. De'vi-ous, winding.
NOTE. 1. Boreas is the name which the ancient Greeks gave
to the north wind.
LVIII. THE BLUE AND THE GRAY.
1. BY the flow of the inland river,
Whence the fleets of iron have fled,
Where the blades of the grave grass quiver,
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Cinder the one, the Blue;
Under the other, the Gray.
184 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. These, in the robings of glory,
Those, in the gloom of defeat,
All, with the battle blood gory,
In the dusk of eternity meet;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the laurel, the Blue;
Under the willow, the Gray.
3. From the silence of sorrowful hours,
The desolate mourners go,
Lovingly laden with flowers,
Alike for the friend and the foe;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue;
Under the lilies, the Gray.
4. So, with an equal splendor,
The morning sun rays fall,
With a touch, impartially tender,
On the blossoms blooming for all ;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue;
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.
5. So, when the summer calleth,
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain ;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.
FIFTH READER. 185
6. Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done;
In the storm of the years that are fading,
~No braver battle was won;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray.
7. No more shall the war cry sever,
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever,
When they laurel the graves of our dead;
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears, for the Blue;
Tears and love, for the Gray.
F. M. Finch.
NOTE. The above touching little poem first appeared in the
" Atlantic Monthly " in September, 1867. It commemorates the
noble action on the part of the women at Columbus, Miss., who
in decorating the graves strewed flowers impartially on those of
the Confederate and of the Federal soldiers.
LIX. THE MACHINIST'S RETURN.
[Adapted from a letter written by a correspondent of the Wash-
ington "Capital."]
1. Ox our way from Springfield to Boston, a stout,
black-whiskered man sat immediately in front of me, in
the drawing-room car, whose maneuvers were a source of
constant amusement. He would get up every five min-
utes, hurry away to the narrow passage leading to the
186 ECLECTIC SERIES.
door of the car, and commence laughing in the most vio-
lent manner, continuing that healthful exercise until he
observed that some one was watching him, when he would
return to his seat.
2. As we neared Boston these demonstrations increased
in frequency and violence, but the stranger kept his seat
and chuckled to himself. He shifted the position of his
two portmanteaus, or placed them on the seat as if he was
getting ready to leave. As we were at least twenty-five
miles from Boston, such early preparations seemed ex-
tremely ridiculous. He became so excited at last that he
could not keep his secret. Some one must be made a con-
fidant; and as I happened to be the nearest to him, he
selected me.
3. Turning around suddenly, and rocking himself to and
fro in his chair, he said, "I have been away from home
three years. Have been in Europe. My folks don't ex-
pect me for three months yet, but I got through and
started. I telegraphed them at the last station they 've
got the dispatch by this time." As he said this he
rubbed his hands, and changed the portmanteau on his
left to the right, and then the one on the right to the
left.
4. " Have you a wife ? " said I. " Yes, and three chil-
dren," was the answer. He then got up and folded his
overcoat anew, and hung it over the back of the seat.
"You are somewhat nervous just now, are you not?"
said I.
5. "Well, I should think so," he replied. "I have n't
slept soundly for a week. Do you know," he went on,
speaking in a low tone, "I am almost certain this train
will run off the track and break my neck before I get to
Boston. I have had too much good luck lately for one
man. It can't last. It rains so hard, sometimes, that you
think it 's never going to stop ; then it shines so bright you
think it 's always going to shine ; and just as you are set-
FIFTH HEADER. 187
tied in either belief, you are knocked over by a change, to
show you that you know nothing about it."
6. "Well, according to your philosophy," I said, "you
will continue to have sunshine because you are expecting
a storm." "Perhaps so," he replied; "but it is curious
that the only thing which makes me think I shall get
through safe is, I fear that I shall not."
7. "I am a machinist," he continued; "I made a dis-
covery; nobody believed in it; I spent all my money in
trying to bring it out; I mortgaged my home every-
thing went. Everybody laughed at me everybody but
my wife. She said she would work her fingers off before
I should give it up. I went to England. At first I met
with no encouragement whatever, and came very near
jumping off London Bridge. I went into a workshop to
earn money enough to come home with: there I met the
man I wanted. To make a long story short, I Ve brought
home 50,000 with me, and here I am."
8. "Good!" I exclaimed. "Yes," said he, "and the
best of it is, she knows nothing about it. She has been
disappointed so often that I concluded I would not write
to her about my unexpected good luck. When I got my
money, though, I started for home at once."
9. "And now, I suppose, you will make her happy?"
" Happy ! " he replied ; " why, you don't know anything
about it! She's worked night and day since I have
been in England, trying to support herself and the chil-
dren decently. They paid her thirteen cents apiece for
making shirts, and that 's the way she has lived half the
time. She '11 come down to the depot to meet me in a
gingham dress and a shawl a hundred years old, and she '11
think she 's dressed Up! Perhaps she won't have any fine
dresses in a week or so, eh ? "
10. The stranger then strode down the passageway
again, and getting in a corner where he seemed to suppose
that he was out of sight, went through the strangest pan-
188 ECLECTIC SERIES.
tomime, laughing, putting his mouth into the drollest
shapes, and swinging himself back and forth in the limited
space.
11. As the train was going into the depot, I placed my-
self on the platform of the car in front of the one in which
I had been riding, and opposite the stranger, who, with a
portmanteau in each hand, was standing on the lowest step,
ready to jump to the ground. I looked from his face to
the faces of the people before us, but saw no sign of recog-
nition. Suddenly he cried, " There they are ! "
12. Then he laughed outright, but in a hysterical way,
as he looked over the crowd in front of him. I followed
his eye and saw, some distance back, as if crowded out by
the well-dressed and elbowing throng, a little woman in a
faded dress and a well-worn hat, with a face almost painful
in its intense but hopeful expression, glancing rapidly
from window to window as the coaches passed by.
13. She had not seen the stranger, but a moment after
she caught his eye. In another instant he had jumped to
the platform with his two portmanteaus, and, pushing his
way through the crowd, he rushed towards the place where
she was standing. I think I never saw a face assume so
many different expressions in so short a time as did that
of the little woman while her husband was on his way to
meet her.
14. She was not pretty, on the contrary, she was very
plain-looking; but somehow I felt a big lump rise in my
throat as I watched her. She was trying to laugh, but,
God bless her, how completely she failed in the attempt !
Her mouth got into the position to laugh, but it never
moved after that, save to draw down at the corners and
quiver, while her eyes blinked so fast that I suspect she
only caught occasional glimpses of the broad-shouldered
fellow who elbowed his way so rapidly toward her.
15. As he drew close, and dropped the portmanteaus,
she turned to one side, and covered her face with her
FIFTH READER. 189
hands ; and thus she was when the strong man gathered
her up in his arms as if she were a child, and held her
sobbing to his breast.
16. There were enough staring at them, heaven knows ;
so I turned my eyes away a moment, and then I saw two
boys in threadbare roundabouts standing near, wiping their
eyes on their sleeves, and bursting into tears anew at
every fresh demonstration on the part of their mother.
When I looked at the stranger again he had his hat drawn
over his eyes; but his wife was looking up at him, and
it seemed as if the pent-up tears of those weary months of
waiting were streaming through her eyelids.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ma-neu'vers, movements. 2. Dem-on-stra'-
tions, expression of the feelings by outward signs. Port-man'teau
(pro. port-man'to), a traveling bag, usually made of leather. C5n-fi-
dant', one to whom secrets are intrusted. 3. Dis-patch', a message.
6. Phi-los'o-phy, reasoning. 7. MaHjhin'ist, a constructor of ma-
chines and engines. Mort'gaged (pro. mor'gajd), given as security
for debt. 9. Ging'ham, a kind of cotton cloth which is dyed before
it is woven. 10. Pan'to-mime, acting without speaking, dumb show.
12. Hys-ter'ie-al, convulsive, jitful.
LX. MAKE WAY FOB LIBERTY.
James Montgomery (&. 1771, d. 1854) was born in Irvine, Ayrshire,
Scotland. His father, a Moravian preacher, sent him to a Moravian
school at Fulneck, Yorkshire, England, to be educated. In 1794 he started
"The Sheffield Iris," a weekly paper, which he edited, with marked
ability, till 1825. He was fined and imprisoned twice for publishing ar
tides decided to be seditious. His principal poetical works are "The
World before the Flood," "Greenland," "The West Indies," " The Wan-
derer in Switzerland," "The Pelican Island," and "Original Hymns, for
Public, Private, and Social Devotion." Mr. Montgomery's style is gen-
erally too diffuse ; but its smoothness and the evident sincerity of his
emotions have made many of his hymns and minor poems very popular.
A pension of 300 a year was granted to him in 1833.
1. "MAKE way for Liberty!" he cried;
Made way for Liberty, and died!
190 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
A living wall, a human wood !
A wall, where every conscious stone
Seemed to its kindred thousands grown ;
A rampart all assaults to bear,
Till time to dust their frames should wear
A wood like that enchanted grove,
In which, with fiends, Binaldo strove,
Where every silent tree possessed
A spirit prisoned in its breast,
Which the first stroke of coming strife
Would startle into hideous life :
So dense, so still, the Austrians stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
3. Impregnable their front appears,
All horrent with projected spears,
Whose polished points before them shine,
From flank to flank, one brilliant line,
Bright as the breakers' splendors run
Along the billows to the sun.
4. Opposed to these, a hovering band,
Contending for their native land;
Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke
From manly necks the ignoble yoke,
And forged their fetters into swords,
On equal terms to fight their lords;
And what insurgent rage had gained,
In many a mortal fray maintained:
Marshaled once more at Freedom's call,
They came to conquer or to fall,
Where he who conquered, he who fell.
Was deemed a dead or living Tell!
FIFTH READER. 191
5. And now the work of life and death
Hung on the passing of a breath;
The fire of conflict burned within;
The battle trembled to begin;
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground,
Point for attack was nowhere found;
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed,
The unbroken line of lances blazed;
That line 'twere suicide to meet,
And perish at their tyrants' feet;
How could they rest within their graves,
And leave their homes the homes of slaves?
Would they not feel their children tread
With clanking chains above their head ?
6. It must not be: this day, this hour,
Annihilates the oppressor's power
All Switzerland is in the field,
She will not fly, she can not yield;
Few were the numbers she could boast
But every freeman was a host,
And felt as though himself were he
On whose sole arm hung victory.
7. It did depend on one, indeed :
Behold him! Arnold Winkelried!
There sounds not to the trump of fame
The echo of a nobler name.
Unmarked he stood amid the throng,
In rumination deep and long,
Till you might see with sudden grace,
The very thought come o'er his face;
And by the motion of his form,
Anticipate the bursting storm;
192 ECLECTIC SERIES.
And by the uplifting of his brow,
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.
But 'twas no sooner thought than done;
The field was in a moment won.
8. "Make way for Liberty!" he cried:
Then ran, with arms extended wide,
As if his dearest friend to clasp;
Ten spears he swept within his grasp:
"Make way for Liberty!" he cried,
Their keen points met from side to side;
He bowed among them like a tree,
And thus made way for Liberty.
9. Swift to the breach his comrades fly;
" Make way for Liberty ! " they cry,
And through the Austrian phalanx dart,
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart;
While instantaneous as his fall,
Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all.
An earthquake could not overthrow
A city with a surer blow.
10. Thus Switzerland again was free,
Thus Death made way for Liberty!
DEFINITIONS. 2. Pha'lanx, a body of troops formed in dost
array. Con'scious, sensible, knowing. Kin'dred, those of like nature,
relatives. Ram'part, that which defends from assault, a bulwark.
3. Im-preg'na-ble, that can not be moved or shaken. Hor'rent, stand-
ing out like bristles. 4. In-sur'gent, rising in opposition to authority.
6. An-ni'hi-lates, destroys. 7. Ru-mi-na'tion, the act of musing, med-
itation. 9. Breach, a gap or opening made by breaking.
FIFTH READER. 193
NOTES. The incident related in this poem is one of actual
occurrence, and took place at the battle of Sempach, fought in
1386 A.D., between only 1,300 Swiss and a large army of Austri-
ans. The latter had obtained possession of a narrow pass in the
mountains, from which it seemed impossible to dislodge them
until Arnold von Winkelried made a breach in their line, as
narrated.
Rinaldo is a knight in Tasso's " Jerusalem Delivered " (Canto
xvin, 17-40), who enters an enchanted wood, and, by cutting
down a tree in spite of the nymphs and phantoms that endeavor
in every way to stop him, breaks the spell; the Christian army
are thus enabled to enter the grove and obtain timber for their
engines of war.
LXI. THE ENGLISH SKYLARK.
Elihu Burritt (&. 1810, d. 1879), "the learned blacksmith," was born
in New Britain, Conn. His father was a shoemaker. Having received
only a limited amount of instruction at the district school, he was
apprenticed to a blacksmith about 1827. During his apprenticeship he
labored hard at self-instruction. He worked at his trade many years,
from ten to twelve hours each day, but managed, in the meantime, to
acquire a knowledge of many ancient and modern languages. He made
translations from several of these, which were published in the " Ameri-
can Eclectic Review." In 1844 he commenced the publication of "The
Christian Citizen." His leading literary works are "Sparks from the
Anvil," "A Voice from the Forge," "Peace Papers," and "Walks to
John o' Groat's House." From the last of these the following selection
is abridged.
1. TAKE it in all, no bird in either hemisphere equals
the English lark in heart o? voice, for both unite to
make ifc the sweetest, the happiest, the welcomest singer
that was ever winged, like the high angels of God's love.
It is the living ecstasy of joy when it mounts up into its
* glorious privacy of light."
2. On the earth it is timid, silent, and bashful, as if
not at home, and not sure of its right to be there at all.
It is rather homely withal, having nothing in feather, fea-
(5. 13.)
194 ECLECTIC SERIES.
ture, or form to attract notice. It is seemingly made to
be heard, not seen, reversing the old axiom addressed to
children when getting noisy.
3. Its mission is music, and it floods a thousand acres
of the blue sky with it several times a day. Out of that
palpitating speck of living joy there wells forth a sea of
twittering ecstasy upon the morning and evening air. It
does not ascend by gyrations, like the eagle and birds of
prey. It mounts up like a human aspiration.
4. It seems to spread its wings and to be lifted straight
upwards out of sight by the afflatus of its own happy heart.
To pour out this in undulating rivulets of rhapsody is
apparently the only motive of its ascension. This it is
that has made it so loved of all generations.
5. It is the singing angel of man's nearest heaven, whose
vital breath is music. Its sweet warbling is only the met-
rical palpitation of its life of joy. It goes up over the
rooftrees of the rural hamlet on the wings of its song, as
if to train the human soul to trial flights heavenward.
6. Never did the Creator put a voice of such volume
into so small a living thing. It is a marvel almost a
miracle. In a still hour you can hear it at nearly a mile's
distance. When its form is lost in the hazy lace work of
the sun's rays above, it pours down upon you all the thrill-
ing semitones of its song as distinctly as if it were warbling
to you in your window.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ee'sta-sy, overmastering joy, rapture. 2. Ax'-
i-om, a self-evident truth. 3. Pal'pi-tat-ing, throbbing, fluttering.
Wells, pours, flows. Gy-ra'tions, circular or spiral motions. 4. Af-
fla'tus, breath, inspiration. Un'du-la-ting, rising and falling like
waves. Rhap'sody, that which is uttered in a disconnected way under
strong excitement. Gen-er-a'tion, the mass of beings living at one
period. 5. Met'rie-al, arranged in measures, as poetry and music.
R<5of'tree, the beam in the angle of a roof, hence the "oof itself.
Ham'let, a little cluster of houses-
FIFTH READER. 195
LXII. HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE.
William Collins (6. 1721, d. 1759) was born at Chichester, England.
He was educated at Winchester and Oxford. About 1745, he went to
London as a literary adventurer, and there won the esteem of Dr.
Johnson. His "Odes" were published in 1746, but were not popular.
He was subsequently relieved from pecuniary embarrassment by a legacy
of 2,000 from a maternal uncle; but he soon became partially insane,
and was for some time confined in an asylum for lunatics. He after-
wards retired to Chichester, where he was cared for by his sister until
his death.
1. How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blessed !
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallowed mold,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
2. By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There Honor comes a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
LXIII. THE RAINBOW.
John Keble (&. 1792, d. 1866) was born near Fairfax, Gloucestershire,
England. He graduated at Oxford with remarkably high honors, and
afterwards was appointed to the professorship of poetry in that uni-
versity. Since his death, Keble College, at Oxford, has been erected to
his memory. In 1835, he became vicar of Hursley and rector of Otter-
bourne, and held these livings until his death. His most famous work is
" The Christian Year," a collection of sacred poems.
1. A FRAGMENT of a rainbow bright
Through the moist air I see,
All dark and damp on yonder height^
All bright and clear to me.
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2. An hour ago the storm was here,
The gleam was far behind;
So will our joys and grief appear,
When earth has ceased to blind.
3. Grief will be joy if on its edge
Fall soft that holiest ray,
Joy will be grief if no faint pledge
Be there of heavenly day.
LXIV. SUPPOSED SPEECH OP JOHN ADAMS.
Daniel Webster (&. 1782, d. 1852) was born in Salisbury, N.H. He
spent a few months of his boyhood at Phillips Academy, Exeter, but
fitted for college under Rev. Samuel Wood, of Boscawen, N.H. He
graduated from Dartmouth College in 1801. He taught school several
terms, during and after his college course. In 1805, he was admitted to
the bar in Boston, and practiced law in New Hampshire for the suc-
ceeding eleven years. In 1812, he was elected to the United States
House of Representatives. In 1816, he removed to Boston, and in 1827
was elected to the United States Senate, which position he held for
twelve years. In 1841, he was appointed Secretary of State. He returned
to the Senate in 1845. In 1850, he was reappointed Secretary of State,
and continued in office until his death. He died at his residence, in
Marshfield, Mass. Mr. Webster's fame rests chiefly on his state papers
and speeches. As a speaker he was dignified and stately, using clear,
pure English. During all his life he took great interest in agriculture,
and was very fond of outdoor sports.
1. SINK or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give
my hand and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that,
in the beginning, we aimed not at independence. But
" There 's a divinity that shapes our ends."
The injustice of England has driven us to arms; and,
blinded to her own interest, she has obstinately persisted,
till independence is now within our grasp. We have but
to reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why then should we
FIFTH READER. 197
defer the declaration ? Is any man so weak as now to
hope for a reconciliation with England, which shall leave
either safety to the country and its liberties, or security to
his own life and his own honor ! Are not you, sir, who
sit in that chair, is not he, our venerable colleague, near
you, are you not both .already the proscribed and pre-
destined objects of punishment and of vengeance ? Cut off
from all hope of royal clemency, what are you, what can
you be, while the power of England remains, but outlaws ?
2. If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on,
or to give up, the war ? Do we mean to submit, and con-
sent that we shall be ground to powder, and our country
and its rights trodden down in the dust? I know we do
not mean to submit. We NEVER shall submit ! Do we in-
tend to violate that most solemn obligation ever entered
into by men, that plighting, before God, of our sacred
honor to Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the
dangers of war, as well as the political hazards of the times,
we promised to adhere to him in every extremity with our
fortunes and our lives ? I know there is not a man here,
who would not rather see a general conflagration sweep over
the land, or an earthquake sink it, than one jot or tittle
of that plighted faith fall to the ground. For myself,
having twelve months ago, in this place, moved you that
George Washington be appointed commander of the forces
raised, or to be raised, for the defense of American liberty ;
may my right hand forget her cunning, and my tongue
cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I hesitate or waver in
the support I give him.
3. The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through.
And if the war must go on, why put off the Declaration of
Independence ? That measure will strengthen us. It will
give us character abroad. Nations will then treat with us,
which they never can do while we acknowledge ourselves
subjects in arms against our sovereign. Nay, I maintain
that England herself will sooner treat for peace with us
198 ECLECTIC SERIES.
on the footing of independence, than consent, by repealing
her acts, to acknowledge that her whole conduct toward us
has been a course of injustice and oppression. Her pride
will be less wounded by submitting to that course of things,
which now predestinates our independence, than by yielding
the points in controversy to her rebellious subjects. The
former, she would regard as the result of fortune ; the latter,
she would feel as her own deep disgrace. Why, then, do
we not change this from a civil to a national war? And
since we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in
a state to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we gain the
victory.
4. If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall
not fail. The cause will raise up armies; the cause will
create navies. The people the people, if we are true to
them, will carry us, and will carry themselves, gloriously
through this struggle. I care not how fickle other people
have been found. I know the people of these colonies ;
and I know that resistance to British aggression is deep
and settled in their hearts, and can not be eradicated.
Sir, the Declaration of Independence will inspire the peo-
ple with increased courage. Instead of a long and bloody
war for the restoration of privileges, for redress of griev-
ances, for chartered immunities, held under a British king,
set before them the glorious object of entire independence,
and it will breathe into them anew the spirit of life.
5. Eead this declaration at the head of the army ; every
sword will be drawn, and the solemn vow uttered to main-
tain it, or perish on the bed of honor. Publish it from
the pulpit; religion will approve it, and the love of re-
ligious liberty will cling around it, resolved to stand with
it or fall with it. Send it to the public halls ; proclaim it
there; let them see it who saw their brothers and their
sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill and in the streets of
Lexington and Concord, and the very walls will cry out in
its support.
FIFTH READER. 199
6. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human affairs, but I
see I see clearly through this day's business. You and I,
indeed, may rue it. We may not live to see the time this
declaration shall be made good. We may die; die colo-
nists; die slaves; die, it may be, ignominiously and on
the scaffold. Be it so: be it so. If it be the pleasure of
Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering
of my life, the victim shall be ready at the appointed
ttour of sacrifice, come when that hour may. But while I
do live, let me have a country, or at least the hope of a
country, and that a FREE country.
7. But whatever may be our fate, be assured be as-
sured that this Declaration will stand. It may cost treas-
ure, and it may cost blood; but it will stand, and it will
richly compensate for both. Through the thick gloom of
the present I see the brightness of the future as the sun
in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an immortal
day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor
it. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with fes-
tivity, with bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual re-
turn, they will shed tears, copious, gushing tears; not of
subjection and slavery, not of agony and distress, but of
exultation, of gratitude, and of joy.
8. Sir, before God I believe the hour is come. My
judgment approves the measure, and my whole heart is
in it. All that I have, and all that I am, and all that
I hope in this life, I am now ready here to stake upon
it; and I leave off as I began, that, live or die, survive
or perish, I am for the Declaration. It is my living
sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall by my
dying sentiment; independence now, and INDEPENDENCE
FOREVER.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ree-on-<?il-i-a'tion, renewal of friendship.
Col'league (pro. kol'leg), an associate in some civil office. Pro-
scribed', doomed to destruction, put out of the protection of the law.
Pre-des'tined, decreed beforehand. Clem'en-^y, mercy, indulgence.
200 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. Tit/tie, a small particle, a jot. 3. Con'tro-ver-sy, dispute, de-
bate. 4. E-rad'i-eat-ed, rooted out. Re-dress', deliverance from
wrong, injury, or oppression. Char'tered, secured by an instrument
in writing from a king or other proper authority. Im-mu'ni-ty,
freedom from any duly, tax, imposition, etc. 7. Com'pen-sate, make
amends for.
NOTES. Mr. Webster, in a speech upon the life and character
of John Adams, imagines some one opposed to the Declaration
of Independence to have stated his fears and objections before
Congress while deliberating on that subject. He then supposes
Mr. Adams to have replied in the language above.
1. The quotation is from "Hamlet," Act V, Scene 2.
You, sir, who sit in that chair. This was addressed to John
Hancock, president of the Continental Congress. Our venerable
colleague refers to Samuel Adarns. After the battles of Concord
and Lexington, Governor Gage offered pardon to all the rebels
who would lay down their arms, excepting Samuel Adams and
John Hancock.
LXV. THE RISING.
Thomas Buchanan Read (6. 1822, d. 1872) was born in Chester County,
Pennsylvania. In 1839 he entered a sculptor's studio in Cincinnati, where
he gained reputation as a portrait painter. He afterwards went to New
York, Boston, and Philadelphia, and, in 1850, to Italy. He divided his
time between Cincinnati, Philadelphia, and Rome, in the later years of
his life. Some of his poems are marked by vigor and strength, while
others are distinguished by smoothness and delicacy. The following
selection is abridged from " The Wagoner of the Alleghanies."
1. OUT of the North the wild news came,
Far flashing on its wings of flame,
Swift as the boreal light which flies
At midnight through the startled skies.
2. And there was tumult in the air,
The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat,
And through the wide land everywhere
The answering tread of hurrying feet,
FIFTH EEADER. 201
While the first oath of Freedom's gun
Came on the blast from Lexington.
And Concord, roused, no longer tame,
Forgot her old baptismal name,
Made bare her patriot arm of power,
And swelled the discord of the hour.
3. The yeoman and the yoeman's son,
With knitted brows and sturdy dint,
Renewed the polish of each gun,
Keoiled the lock, reset the flint;
And oft the maid and matron there,
While kneeling in the firelight glare,
Long poured, with half-suspended breath,
The lead into the molds of death.
4. The hands by Heaven made silken soft
To soothe the brow of love or pain,
Alas ! are dulled and soiled too oft
By some unhallowed earthly stain;
But under the celestial bound
No nobler picture can be found
Than woman, brave in word and deed,
Thus serving in her nation's need:
Her love is with her country now,
Her hand is on its aching brow.
5. Within its shade of elm and oak
The church of Berkley Manor stood:
There Sunday found the rural folk,
And some esteemed of gentle blood.
In vain their feet with loitering tread
Passed 'mid the graves where rank is naught:
All could not read the lesson taught
In that republic of the dead.
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6. The pastor rose: the prayer was strong;
The psalm was warrior David's song;
The text, a few short words of might,
"The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!"
7. He spoke of wrongs too long endured,
Of sacred rights to be secured;
Then from his patriot tongue of flame
The startling words for Freedom came.
The stirring sentences he spake
Compelled the heart to glow or quake,
And, rising on his theme's broad wing,
And grasping in his nervous hand
The imaginary battle brand,
In face of death he dared to fling
Defiance to a tyrant king.
8. Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
In eloquence of attitude,
Kose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher;
Then swept his kindling glance of fire
From startled pew to breathless choir;
When suddenly his mantle wide
His hands impatient flung aside,
And, lo! he met their wondering eyes
Complete in all a warrior's guise.
9. A moment there was awful pause,
When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease
God's temple is the house of peace!"
The other shouted, "Nay, not so,
When God is with our righteous cause:
His holiest places then are ours,
His temples are our forts and towers
That frown upon the tyrant foe:
In this the dawn of Freedom's day
There is a time to fight and pray!"
FIFTH READER. 203
10. And now before the open door
The warrior priest had ordered so
The enlisting trumpet's sudden soar
Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er,
Its long reverberating blow,
So loud and clear, it seemed the ear
Of dusty death must wake and hear.
And there the startling drum and fife
Fired the living with fiercer life;
While overhead with wild increase,
Forgetting its ancient toll of peace,
The great bell swung as ne'er before:
It seemed as it would never cease;
And every word its ardor flung
From off its jubilant iron tongue
Was, "WAR! WAR! WAR!"
11. "Who dares" this was the patriot's cry,
As striding from the desk he came
"Come out with me, in Freedom's name,
For her to live, for her to die?"
A hundred hands flung up reply,
V hundred voices answered "//"
DEFINITIONS. 1. Bo're-al, northern. 3. Yeo'man, a freeholder,
a man freeborn. Dint, stroke. 5. Man'or, a tract of land occupied
by tenants. Gen' tie (pro. jen'tl), well born, of good family. I
7. Theme, a subject on which a person speaks or writes. 8. Guise,
external appearance in manner or dress. 10. Soar, a towering flight.
NOTES. 2. Forgot her . . . name. The reference is to the
meaning of the word "concord," harmony, union.
4. Celestial bound ; i.e., the sky, heaven.
6. The pastor. This was John Peter Gabriel Muhlenberg, who
was at this time a minister at Woodstock, in Virginia. He was
a leading spirit among those opposed to Great Britain, and in
1775 he was elected colonel of a Virginia regiment. The above
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poem describes his farewell sermon. At its close he threw off his
ministerial gown, and appeared in full regimental dress. Almost
every man in the congregation enlisted under him at the church
door. Muhlenberg became a well-known general in the Revolu-
tion, and after the war served his country in Congress and in
various official positions.
LXVI. CONTROL YOUR TEMPER.
John Todd, D.D. (6. 1800, d. 1873) , was born in Rutland, Vt. In 1842,
he was settled as a pastor of a Congregational Church, in Pittsfield,
Mass. In 1834, he published "Lectures to Children"; in 1835, "The
Student's Manual," a valuable and popular work, which has been trans-
lated into several European languages; in 1836, "The Sabbath-School
Teacher " ; and in 1841, " The Lost Sister of Wyoming." He was one of
the founders of the Mount Holyoke Female Seminary.
1. No one has a temper naturally so good, that it does
not need attention and cultivation, and no one has a tem-
per so bad, but that, by proper culture, it may become
pleasant. One of the best disciplined tempers ever seen,
was that of a gentleman who was naturally quick, irritable,
rash, and violent ; but, by having the care of the sick, and
especially of deranged people, he so completely mastered
himself that he was never known to be thrown off his
guard.
2. The difference in the happiness which is received or
bestowed by the man who governs his temper, and that by
the man who does not, is immense. There is no misery so
constant, so distressing, and so intolerable to others, as that
of having a disposition which is your master, and which
is continually fretting itself. There are corners enough, at
every turn in life, against which we may run, and at which
we may break out in impatience, if we choose.
3. Look at Koger Sherman, who rose from a humble
occupation to a seat in the first Congress of the United
States, and whose judgment was received with great defer-
FIFTH READER. 205
ence by that body of distinguished men. He made himself
master of his temper, and cultivated it as a great business
in life. There are one or two instances which show this
part of his character in a light that is beautiful.
4. One day, after having received his highest honors,
he was sitting and reading in his parlor. A roguish
student, in a room close by, held a looking-glass in such
a position as to pour the reflected rays of the sun directly
in Mr. Sherman's face. He moved his chair, and the
thing was repeated. A third time the chair was moved,
but the looking-glass still reflected the sun in his eyes.
He laid aside his book, went to the window, and many
witnesses of the impudence expected to hear the ungentle-
manly student severely reprimanded. He raised the win-
dow gently, and then shut the window blind !
5. I can not forbear adducing another instance of the
power he had acquired over himself. He was naturally
possessed of strong passions ; but over these he at length
obtained an extraordinary control. He became habitually
calm, sedate, and self-possessed. Mr. Sherman was one of
those men who are not ashamed to maintain the forms of
religion in their families. One morning he called them
all together, as usual, to lead them in prayer to God ; the
" old family Bible " was brought out, and laid on the table.
6. Mr. Sherman took his seat, and placed beside him
one of his children, a child of his old age ; the rest of the
family were seated around the room ; several of these were
now grown up. Besides these, some of the tutors of the
college were boarders in the family, and were present at
the time alluded to. His aged and superannuated mother
occupied a corner of the room, opposite the place where
the distinguished judge sat.
7. At length, he opened the Bible, and began to read.
The child who was seated beside him made some little
disturbance, upon which Mr. Sherman paused and told it
to be still. Again he proceeded; but again he paused to
206 ECLECTIC SERIES.
reprimand the little offender, whose playful disposition
would scarcely permit it to be still. And this time he
gently tapped its ear. The blow, if blow it might be
called, caught the attention of his aged mother, who now,
with some effort, rose from the seat, and tottered across
the room. At length she reached the chair of Mr. Sher-
man, and, in a moment, most unexpectedly to him, she
gave him a blow on the ear with all the force she could
summon. " There," said she, " you strike your child, and
I will strike mine."
8. For a moment, the blood was seen mounting to the
face of Mr. Sherman ; but it was only for a moment, when
all was calm and mild as usual. He paused; he raised
his spectacles ; he cast his eye upon his mother ; again it
fell upon the book from which he had been reading. Not
a word escaped him; but again he calmly pursued the
service, and soon after sought in prayer an ability to set
an example before his household which would be worthy
of their imitation. Such a victory was worth more than
the proudest one ever achieved on the field of battle.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Con-trol', subdue, restrain, govern. Cul'ture,
cultivation, improvement by effort. Dis^i-plmed, brought under
control, trained 2. In-tol'er-a-ble, not capable of being borne.
3. Def'er-ence, regard, respect. 4. Rep'ri-mand-ed, reproved for a
fault. 6. Su-per-an'nu-a-ted, impaired by old age and infirmity.
8. A-chieved', gained.
NOTE. Roger Sherman (b. 1721, d. 1793) was born at Newton
Massachusetts, and until twenty-two years of age was a shoe-
maker. He then removed to New Milford, Connecticut, and was
soon afterward appointed surveyor of lands for the county. In
1754, he was admitted to the bar. At various times he was
elected a judge; sent to the Legislature, to the Colonial Assembly,
and to the United States Congress; made a member of the gov-
ernor's council of safety; and, in 1776, a member of the commit-
tee appointed to draft the Declaration of Independence, of which
he was one of the signers.
FIFTH EEADEE. 207
LXVII. WILLIAM TELL.
James Sheridan Knowles (6. 1784, d. 1862), a dramatist and actor,
was born in Cork, Ireland. In 1792 his father removed to London with his
family. At the age of fourteen, Sheridan wrote an opera called "The
Chevalier de Grillon." In 1798 he removed to Dublin, and soon after
began his career as an actor and author. In 1835 he visited America. In
1839 an annual pension of 200 was granted him by the British govern-
ment. Several years before his death he left the stage and became a
Baptist minister. The best known of his plays are "Caius Gracchus,"
" Virginius, " Leo, the Gypsy," " The Hunchback," and " William Tell,"
from the last of wnich the following two lessons are abridged.
SCENE 1. A CJiamber in the Castle. Enter Gesler, Officer s t
and Sarnem, with Tell in chains and guarded.
Sar. DOWN, slave ! Behold the governor.
Down! down! and beg for mercy.
Ges. (Seated.) Does he hear?
JSar. He does, but braves thy power.
Officer. Why don't you smite him for that look?
Ges. Can I believe
My eyes ? He smiles ! Nay, grasps
His chains as he would make a weapon of them
To lay the smiter dead. (To Tett.)
Why speakest thou not?
Tell. For wonder.
Ges. Wonder?
Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man.
Ges. What should I seem?
Tell. A monster.
Ges. Ha! Beware! Think on thy chains.
Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down
Prostrate to the earth, methinks I could rise up
Erect, with nothing but the honest pride
Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth,
Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains?
How came they on me?
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Ges. Darest thou question me?
Tell. Darest thou not answer?
Ges. Do I hear?
Tell Thou dost.
Ges. Beware my vengeance!
Tell. Can it more than kill ?
Ges. Enough; it can do that.
Tell. No; not enough:
It can not take away the grace of life;
Its comeliness of look that virtue gives;
Its port erect with consciousness of truth;
Its rich attire of honorable deeds;
Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues;
It can not lay its hands on these, no more
Than it can pluck the brightness from the sun,
Or with polluted finger tarnish it.
Ges. But it can make thee writhe.
Tell. It may.
Ges. And groan.
Tell. It may; and I may cry
Go on, though it should make me groan again.
Ges. Whence comest thou?
Tell. From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn
What news from thence
Ges. Canst tell rne any?
Tell. Ay: they watch no more the avalanche.
Ges. Why so?
Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane
Comes unawares upon them; from its bed
The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track.
Ges. What do they then?
Tett. Thank heaven it is not thou!
Thou hast perverted nature in them.
There's not a blessing heaven vouchsafes them, but
The thought of thee doth wither to a curse.
Ges. That's right! I'd have them like their hills,
FIFTH READER. 209
That never smile, though wanton summer tempt
Them e'er so much.
Tell. But they do sometimes smile.
Ges. Ay ! when is that ?
Tell When they do talk of vengeance.
Ges. Vengeance? Dare they talk of that?
Tell. Ay, and expect it too.
Ges. From whence?
Tell. Prom heaven!
Ges. From heaven?
Tell. And their true hands
Are lifted up to it on every hill
For justice on thee.
Ges. Where's thy abode?
Tell. I told thee, on the mountains.
Ges. Art married?
Tell. Yes.
Ges. And hast a family?
Tell. A son.
Ges. A son ? Sarnem !
Sar. My lord, the boy (Gesler signs to Sarnem to keep
silence, and, whispering, sends him off.)
Tell The boy ? What boy ?
Is 't mine ? and have they netted my young fledgeling ?
Now heaven support me, if they have! He'll own
me,
And share his father's ruin! But a look
Would put him on his guard yet how to give it I
Now heart, thy nerve ; forget thou 'rt flesh, be rock.
They come, they come !
That step that step that little step, so light
Upon the ground, how heavy does it fall
Upon my heart ! I feel my child ! (Enter Sarnem
with Albert, whose eyes are riveted on Tell's bow,
which Sarnem carries.)
'Tis he! We can but perish,
(6.-14.)
210 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Alb. (Aside.) Yes; I was right. It is my father's bow!
For there's my father! I'll not own him though!
Sar. See!
Alb. What?
Sar. Look there!
Alb. I do, what would you have me see?
Sar. Thy father.
Alb. Who? That that my father?
Tell. My boy! my boy! my own brave boy!
He's safe! (Aside.)
Sar. (Aside to Gesler.) They're like each other.
Ges. Yet I see no sign
Of recognition to betray the link
Unites a father and his child.
Sar. My lord,
I am sure it is his father. Look at them.
That boy did spring from him; or never cast
Came from the mold it fitted! It may be
A preconcerted thing 'gainst such a chance,
That they survey each other coldly thus.
Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff.
Sar. To a dungeon?
Ges. No; into the court.
Sar. The court, my Jord?
Ges. And send
To tell the headsman to make ready. Quick!
The slave shall die! You marked the boy?
Sar. I did. He started; 'tis his father.
Ges. We shall see. Away with him!
Tell Stop! Stop!
Ges. What would you?
Tell. Time,
A little time to call my tnoughts together!
Ges. Thou shalt not have a minute.
Tell. Some one, then, to speak with.
Ges. Hence with him!
FIFTH READER. 211
Tell A moment! Stop!
Let me speak to the boy.
Is he thy son?
And if
He were, art thou so lost to nature, as '
To send me forth to die before his face?
Ges. Well! speak with him.
Now, Sarnem, mark them well.
Tell. Thou dost not know me, boy; and well for thee
Thou dost not. I'm the father of a son
About thy age. Thou,
I see, wast born, like him, upon the hills:
If thou shouldst 'scape thy present thraldom, he
May chance to cross thee ; if he should, I pray thee
Eelate to him what has been passing here,
And say I laid my hand upon thy head,
And said to thee, if he were here, as thou art,
Thus would I bless him. Mayst thou live, my boy,
To see thy country free, or die for her,
As I do ! (Albert weeps.)
Sar. Mark! he weeps.
Tell. Were he my son,
He would not shed a tear! He would remember
The cliff where he was bred, and learned to scan
A thousand fa/thorns' depth of nether air;
Where he was trained to hear the thunder talk,
And meet the lightning, eye to eye; where last
We spoke together, when I told him death
Bestowed the brightest gem that graces life,
Embraced for virtue's sake. He shed a tear!
Now were he by, I'd talk to him, and his cheek
Should never blanch, ncr moisture dim his eye
I'd talk to him
Sar. He falters!
Tell. 'T is too much !
And yet it must be done! I'd talk to him
212 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Ges. Of what?
Tell. The mother, tyrant, thou dost make
A widow of! I'd talk to him of her.
I'd bid him tell her, next to liberty,
Her name was the last word my lips pronounced.
And I would charge him never to forget
To love and cherish her, as he would have
His father's dying blessing rest upon him!
Sar. You see, as he doth prompt, the other acts.
Tell. So well he bears it, he doth vanquish me.
My boy! my boy! Oh, for the hills, the hills,
To see him bound along their tops again,
With liberty.
Sar. Was there not all the father in that look ?
Ges. Yet 't is 'gainst nature.
Sar. Not if he believes
To own the son would be to make him share
The father's death.
Ges. I did not think of that ! 'T is well
The boy is not thy son. I've destined him
To die along with thee.
Tell. To die? For what?
Ges. For having braved my power, as thou hast. Lead
them forth.
Tell. He's but a child.
Ges. Away with them !
Tell. Perhaps an only child.
Ges. No matter.
Tell. He may have a mother.
Ges. So the viper hath;
And yet, who spares it for the mother's sake ?
Tell. I talk to stone ! I talk to it as though
'Twere flesh; and know 't is none. I'll talk to it
No more. Come, my boy;
I taught thee how to live, I '11 show thee how to die.
Ges. He is thy child ?
FIFTH READER. 213
Tell. He is my child. (Weeps.)
Ges. I 've wrung a tear from him ! Thy name ?
Tell. My name?
It matters not to keep it from thee now;
My name is Tell.
Ges. Tell? William Tell.?
Tell. The same.
Ges. What! he, so famed 'bove all his countrymen,
For guiding o'er the stormy lake the boat?
And such a master of his bow, ? t is said
His arrows never miss ! Indeed ! 1 '11 take
Exquisite vengeance! Mark! I'll spare thy life;
Thy boy's too; both of you are free; on one
Condition.
Tell. Name it.
Ges. I would see you make
A trial of your skill with that same bow
You shoot so well with.
Tell. Name the trial you
Would have me make.
Ges. You look upon your boy
As though instinctively you guessed it.
Tell. Look upon niy boy ? What mean you ? Look upon
My boy as though I guessed it ? Guessed the trial
You 'd have me make ? Guessed it
Instinctively ? You do not mean no no,
You would not have me make a trial of
My skill upon my child! Impossible!
I do not guess your meaning.
Ges. I would see
Thee hit an apple at the distance of
A hundred paces.
Tell. Is my boy to hold it?
Ges. No.
Tell. No? I'll send the arrow through the core!
Ges. It is to rest upon his head.
214 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Tell. Great heaven, you hear him!
Ges. Thou dost hear the choice I give:
Such trial of the skill thou art master of,
Or death to both of you, not otherwise
To be escaped.
Tell. 0, monster!
Ges. Wilt thou do it ?
Alb. He will! he will!
Tell. Ferocious monster! Make
A father murder his own child!
Ges. Take off his chains if he consent.
Tell. With his own hand!
Ges. Does he consent ?
Alb. He does. (Gesler signs to his officers, who proceed to take
off TeWs chains ; Tell unconscious ivhat they do.)
Tell. With his own hand!
Murder his child with his own hand? This hand?
The hand I 've led him, when an infant, by ?
'T is beyond horror ! 'T is most horrible !
Amazement ! (His chains fall off.) What 's that you 've
done to me ?
Villains ! put on my chains again. My hands
Are free from blood, and have no gust for it,
That they should drink my child's ! Here ! here ! I '11
Not murder my boy for Gesler.
Alb. Father! Father!
You will not hit me, father!
Tell Hit thee ? Send
The arrow through thy brain? Or, missing that,
Shoot out an eye? Or, if thine eye escape,
Mangle the cheek I've seen thy mother's lips
Cover with kisses? Hit thee? Hit a hair
Of thee, and cleave thy mother's heart?
Ges. Dost thou consent?
Tell. Give me my bow and quiver.
Ges. For what?
FIFTH READER. 215
Tett. To shoot my boy!
Alb. No, father, no!
To save me! You'll be sure to hit the apple.
Will you not save me, father ?
Tell. Lead me forth;
I '11 make the trial !
Alb. Thank you!
Tell. Thank me? Do
You know for what? I will not make the trial.
To take him to his mother in my arms !
And lay him down a corse before her!
Ges. Then he dies this moment, and you certainly
Do murder him whose life you have a chance
To save, and will not use it.
Tell. Well, I '11 do it ; I '11 make the Trial.
Alb. Father!
Tett. Speak not to me :
Let me not hear thy voice: thou must be dumb,
And so should all things be. Earth should be dumb;
And heaven unless its thunders muttered at
The deed, and sent a bolt to stop! Give me
My bow and quiver!
Ges. When all's ready.
Tell. Keady!
I must be calm with such a mark to hit!
Don't touch me, child ! Don't speak to me ! Lead on!
DEFINITIONS. Come'li-ness, that which is becoming or graceful.
Port, manner of movement or walk. At-tire', dress, clothes. Tar 7 -
nish, to soil, to sully. Av'a-lai^he, a vast body of snow, earth, and
ice, sliding down from a mountain. Vouch-safes', yields, conde~
scends, gives. Wan'ton, luxuriant. Net'ted, caught in a net.
Fledge'ling, a young bird. Ree-og-ni'tion, acknowledgment of ac-
quaintance. Pre-con-<^rt'ed, planned beforehand. Cai'tiff (pro.
ka'tif), a mean villain. Thral'dom, bondage, slavery. Sean, to
examine closely. Neth'er, lower, lying beneath. Blanch, to turn
white. Gust, taste, relish.
216 ECLECTIC SERIES.
NOTE. William Tell is a legendary hero of Switzerland. The
events of this drama are represented as occurring in 1307 A.D.,
when Austria held Switzerland under her control. Gesler, also
a purely mythical personage, is one of the Austrian bailiffs.
The legend relates that Gesler had his cap placed on a pole in
the market place, and all the Swiss were required to salute it in
passing in recognition of his authority. Tell refusing to do
this was arrested, and condemned to death. This and the follow-
ing lesson narrate how the sentence was changed, and the result.
LXVIII. WILLIAM TELLv
(Concluded.)
SCENE 2. Enter slowly, people in evident distress Officers,
Sarnem, Gesler, Tell, Albert, and soldiers one bearing
Tell's bow and quiver another with a basket of apples.
Ges. That is your ground. Now shall they measure
thence
A hundred paces. Take the distance.
Tell. Is the line a true one?
Ges. True or not, what is J t to thee ?
Tell. What is 't to me ? A little thing.
A very little thing; a yard or two
Is nothing here or there were it a wolf
I shot at! Never mind.
Ges. Be thankful, slave,
Our grace accords thee life on any terms.
Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler ! Villain, stop !
You measure to the sun.
Ges. And what of that?
What matter whether to or from the sun?
Tell. I'd have it at my back. The sun should shine
Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots.
FIFTH READER. 217
I can not see to shoot against the sun:
I will not shoot against the sun!
Ges. Give him his way ! Thou hast cause to bless my
mercy.
Tell. I shall remember it. I'd like to see
The apple I'm to shoot at.
Ges. Stay ! show me the basket ! there !
Tell. You've picked the smallest one.
Ges. I know I have.
Tell. Oh, do you ? But you see
The color of it is dark: I'd have it light,
To see it better.
Ges. Take it as it is;
Thy skill will be the greater if thou hitt'st it.
Tell. True ! true ! I did not think of that ; I wonder
I did not think of that. Give me some chance
To save my boy!
I will not murder him,
If I can help it for the honor of
The form thou wearest, if all the heart is gone.
(Throivs away the apple with all his force.)
Ges. Well: choose thyself.
Tell. Have I a friend among the lookers-on?
Verner. (Rushing forward) Here, Tell.
Tell. I thank thee, Verner!
He is a friend runs out into a storm
To shake a hand with us. I must be brief.
When once the bow is bent, we can not take
The shot too soon. Verner, whatever be
The issue of this hour, the common cause
Must not stand still. Let not to-morrow's sun
Set on the tyrant's banner ! Verner ! Verner !
The boy ! the boy ! Thinkest thou he hath the
courage
To stand it?
Ver. Yes.
218 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Tell Does he tremble?
Ver. No.
Tell. Art sure?
Ver. I am.
Tell How looks he?
Ver. Clear and smilingly.
If you doubt it, look yourself.
Tell No, no, my friend:
To hear it is enough,
Ver. He bears himself so much above his years
Tell. I know! I know!
Ver. With constancy so modest
Tell. I was sure he would
Ver. And looks with such relying love
And reverence upon you
Tell. Man! Man! Man!
No more! Already I'm too much the father
To act the man! Verner, no more, my friend!
I would be flint flint flint. Don't make me feel
I'm not do not mind me! Take the boy
And set him, Verner, with his back to me.
Set him upon his knees, and place this apple
Upon his head, so that the stem may front me.
Thus, Verner; charge him to keep steady; tell him
I '11 hit the apple ! Verner, do all this
More briefly than I tell it thee.
Ver. Come, Albert ! (Leading him out.)
Alb. May I not speak with him before I go?
Ver. No.
Alb. I would only kiss his hand.
Ver. You must not.
Alb. I must; I can not go from him without.
Ver. It is his will you should.
Alb. His will, is it?
I am content, then; come.
Tell. My boy! (Holding out his arms to him.)
FIFTH READER. 219
Alb. My father! (Rushing into TeWs arms.)
Tell. If thou canst bear it, should not I? Go now,
My son; and keep in mind that I can shoot;
Go, boy; be thou but steady, I will hit
The apple. Go! God bless thee; go. My bow!
(The bow is handed to him.)
Thou wilt not fail thy master, wilt thou? Thou
Hast never failed him yet, old servant. No,
I'm sure of thee. I know thy honesty,
Thou art stanch, stanch. Let me see my quiver.
Ges. Give him a single arrow.
Tell. Do you shoot?
Soldier. I do.
Tell. Is it so you pick an arrow, friend?
The point, you see, is bent; the feather, jagged.
That 's all the use 't is fit for. (Breaks it.)
Ges. Let him have another.
Tell. Why, 'tis better than the first,
But yet not good enough for such an aim
As I'm to take. 'Tis heavy in the shaft;
I '11 not shoot with it ! (Throws it away.) Let
me see my quiver.
Bring it! 'Tis not one arrow in a dozen
I'd take to shoot with at a dove, much less
A dove like that.
Ges. It matters not.
Show him the quiver.
Tell. See if the boy is ready.
(Tell here hides an arrow under his vest.)
Ver. He is.
Tell. I'm ready too! Keep silent, for
Heaven's sake, and do not stir; and let me have
Your prayers, your prayers, and be my witnesses
That if his life 's in peril from my hand,
'Tis only for the chance of saving it. (To the people.)
Ges. Go on.
220 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Tell. I will.
friends, for mercy's sake keep motionless
and silent. (Tell shoots. A shout of exulta-
tion bursts from the crowd. TelVs head drops
on his bosom ; he with difficulty supports him-
self on his bow.)
Ver. (Rushing in with Albert.) The boy is safe, no
hair of him is touched.
Alb. Father, I 'm safe. Your Albert 's safe, dear father.
Speak to me ! Speak to me !
Ver. He can not, boy !
Alb. You grant him life?
Ges. I do.
Alb. And we are free ?
Ges. You are. (Crossing angrily behind.)
Alb. Open his vest,
And give him air. (Albert opens his father's vest,
and the arrow drops. Tell starts, fixes his eyes
on Albert and clasps him to his breast.)
Tell. My boy! My boy!
Ges. For what
Hid you that arrow in your breast ? Speak, slave !
Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy!
DEFINITIONS. Ac-lords', grants, concedes. Is'sue (pro. ish'u),
event, consequence. Stanch, sound, strong. Jag'ged, notched, uneven,
Shaft, the stem of an arrow upon which the feather and head are
inserted. Quiv'er, a case for arrows.
NOTE. The legend further relates that on the discovery of
the concealed arrow Tell was again put in chains. Gesler then
embarked for another place, taking Tell with him. A storm over-
took them, and Tell was released to steer the boat. In passing
a certain point of land, now known as " TelPs Rock " or " Leap,"
Tell leaped ashore and escaped : then going to a point where he
knew the boat must land, he lay concealed until it arrived, when
he shot Gesler through the heart.
fIFTH READER. 221
LXIX. THE CRAZY ENGINEER.
1. MY train left Dantzic in the morning generally about
eight o'clock ; but once a week we had to wait for. the arrival
of the steamer from Stockholm. It was the morning of the
steamer's arrival that I came down from the hotel, and found
that my engineer had been so seriously injured that he could
not perform his work. I went immediately to the engine
house to procure another engineer, for I supposed there
were three or four in reserve there, but I was disappointed.
2. I heard the puffing of the steamer, and the passengers
would be on hand in fifteen minutes. I ran to the guards
and asked them if they knew where there was an engineer,
but they did not. I then went to the firemen and asked
them if any one of them felt competent to run the engine
to Bromberg. No one dared to attempt it. The distance
was nearly one hundred miles. What was to be done ?
3. The steamer stopped at the wharf, and those who
were going on by rail came flocking to the station. They
had eaten breakfast on board the boat, and were all ready
for a fresh start. The train was in readiness in the long
station house, and the engine was steaming and puffing
away impatiently in the distant firing house.
4. It was past nine o'clock. "Come, why don't we
start ? " growled an old, fat Swede, who had been watching
me narrowly for the last fifteen minutes. And upon this
there was a general chorus of anxious inquiry, which soon
settled to downright murmuring. At this juncture some
one touched me on the elbow. I turned, and saw a stranger
by my side. I thought that he was going to remonstrate
with me for my backwardness. In fact, I began to have
strong temptations to pull off my uniform, for every anxious
eye was fixed upon the glaring badges which marked me as
the chief officer of the train.
5. However, this stranger was a middle-aged man, tall
222
ECLECTIC SERIES.
and stout, with a face of great energy and intelligence. His
eye was black and brilliant, so brilliant that I could not
gaze steadily into it, though I tried ; and his lips, which
were very thin, seemed more like polished marble than
human flesh. His dress was black throughout, and not omy
set with exact nicety, but was scrupulously clean and neat.
6. " You want an engineer, I understand," he said in a
low, cautious tone, at the same time gazing quietly about
him, as though he wanted no one to hear what he said.
" I do," I replied. " My train is all ready, and we have
no engineer within twenty miles of this place."
"Well, sir, I am going to Bromberg; I must go, and 1
will run the engine for you."
" Ha ! " I uttered, " are you an engineer ? "
" I am, sir one of the oldest in the country and am
now on my way to make arrangements for a great im-
provement I have invented for the application of steam to
a locomotive. My name is Martin Kroller. If you wish,
I will run as far as Bromberg ; and I will show you running
that is running."
FIFTH READER. 223
7. Was I not fortunate? I determined to accept the
man's offer at once, and so I told him. He received my
answer with a nod and a smile. I went with him to the
house, where we found the engine in charge of the fireman,
and all ready for a start. Kroller got upon the platform,
and I followed him. I had never seen a man betray such
a peculiar aptness amid machinery as he did. He let on
the steam in an instant, but yet with care and judgment,
and he backed up to the baggage carriage with the most
exact nicety.
8. I had seen enough to assure me that he was thoroughly
acquainted with the business, and I felt composed once
more. I gave my engine up to the new man, and then has-
tened away to the office. Word was passed for all the pas-
sengers to take their seats, and soon afterward I waved my
hand to the engineer. There was a puff, a groaning of the
heavy axletrees, a trembling of the building, and the train
was in motion. I leaped upon the platform of the guard
carriage, and in a few minutes more the station house was
far behind us.
9. In less than an hour we reached Dirschau, where we
took up the passengers that had come on the Konigsberg
railway. Here I went forward and asked Kroller how he
liked the engine. He replied that he liked it very much.
"But," he added, with a strange sparkling of the eye,
" wait until I get my improvement, and then you will see
traveling. Why, I could run an engine of my construction
to the moon in four and twenty hours ? "
10. I smiled at what I thought his enthusiasm, and then
went bax?k to my station. As soon as the Konigsberg
passengers were all on board, and their baggage carriage
attached, we started on again. Soon after, I went into the
guard carriage and sat down. An early train from Konigs-
berg had been through two hours before, and was awaiting
us at Little Oscue, where we took on board the Western
mail.
224 ECLECTIC SERIES.
11. " How we go," uttered one of the guards, some fifteen
minutes after we had left Dirschau.
" The new engineer is trying the speed/ 7 I replied, not
yet having any fear. But ere long I began to apprehend he
was running a little too fast. The carriages began to sway
to and fro, and I could hear exclamations of fright from the
passengers.
" Good heavens ! " cried one of the guards, coming in at
that moment, " what is that fellow doing ? Look, sir, and
see how we are going."
12. I looked at the window, and found that we were
dashing along at a speed never before traveled on that
road. Posts, fences, rocks, and trees flew by in one undis-
tinguished mass, and the carriages now swayed fearfully.
I started to my feet, and met a passenger on the platform.
He was one of the chief owners of our road, and was just
on his way to Berlin. He was pale and excited.
13. " Sir," he gasped, " is Martin Kroller on the engine ? "
"Yes," I told him.
What ! didn't you know him ? "
" Know ? " I repeated, somewhat puzzled ; " what do you
mean ? He told me his name was Kroller, and that he was
an engineer. We had no one to run the engine, and "
" You took him ! " interrupted the man. " Good heavens,
sir, he is as crazy as a man can be ! He turned his brain
over a new plan for applying steam power. I saw him at
the station, but did not fully recognize him, as I was in a
hurry. Just now one of your passengers told me that your
engineers were all gone this morning, and that you found
one that was a stranger to you. Then I knew the man
whom I had seen was Martin Kroller. He had escaped from
the hospital at Stettin. You must get him off somehow."
14. The whole fearful truth was now open to me. The
speed of the tram was increasing every moment, and I
knew that a few more miles per hour would launch us all
into destruction. I called to the guard, and then made my
FIFTH READER. 225
way forward as quickly as possible. I reached the back
platform of the tender, and there stood Kroller upon the
engine board, his hat and coat off, his long black hair float-
ing wildly in the wind, his shirt unbuttoned at the front,
his sleeves rolled up, with a pistol in his teeth, and thus
glaring upon the fireman, who lay motionless upon the fuel.
The furnace was stuffed till the very latch of the door was
red-hot, and the whole engine was quivering and swaying
as though it would shiver to pieces.
15. " Kroller ! Kroller ! " I cried, at the top of my voice.
The crazy engineer started, and caught the pistol in his
hand. Oh, how those great black eyes glared, and how
ghastly and frightful the face looked !
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " he yelled demoniacally, glaring upon me
like a roused lion.
"They said that I could not make it! But see! see!
See ray new power ! See my new engine ! I made it, and
they are jealous of me ! I made it, and when it was done,
they stole it from me. But I have found it! For years
I have been wandering in search of my great engine, and
they said it was not made. But I have found it ! I knew
it this morning when I saw it at Dantzic, and I was deter-
mined to have it. And I 've got it ! Ho ! ho ! ho ! we 're on
the way to the moon, I say ! We '11 be in the moon in four
and twenty hours. Down, down, villain ! If you move, I '11
shoot you."
This was spoken to the poor fireman, who at that moment
attempted to rise, and the frightened man sank back again.
16. "Here's Little Oscue just before us," cried out one
of the guard. But even as he spoke, the buildings were at
hand. A sickening sensation settled upon my heart, for I
supposed that we were now gone. The houses flew by like
lightning. I knew if the officers here had turned the switch
as usual, we should be hurled into eternity in one fearful
crash. I saw a flash, it was another engine, I closed
my eyes ; but still we thundered on ! The officers had seeu
(5. 15.)
226 ECLECTIC SERIES.
our speed, and knowing that we would not be able to stop,
in that distance, they had changed the switch, so that we
went forward.
17. But there was sure death ahead, if we did not stop.
Only fifteen miles from us was the town of Schwetz, on the
Vistula ; and at the rate we were going we should be there
in a few minutes, for each minute carried us over a mile.
The shrieks of the passengers now rose above the crash of
the rails, and more terrific than all else arose the demoniac
yells of the mad engineer.
" Merciful heavens ! " gasped the guardsman, '' there 's not
a moment to lose ; Schwetz is close. But hold," he added ;
" let 'a shoot him."
18. At that moment a tall, stout German student came
over the platform where we stood, and saw that the mad-
man had his heavy pistol aimed at us. He grasped a
huge stick of wood, and, with a steadiness of nerve which I
could not have commanded, he hurled it with such force
and precision that he knocked the pistol from the maniac's
hand. I saw the movement, and on the instant that the
pistol fell, I sprang forward, and the German followed me.
I grasped the man by the arm; but I should have been
nothing in his mad power, had I been alone. He would
have hurled me from the platform, had not the student at
that moment struck him upon the head with a stick of
wood, which he caught as he came over the tender.
19. Kroller settled down like a dead man, and on the
next instant I shut off the steam and opened the valve.
As the free steam shrieked and howled in its escape, the
speed began to decrease, and in a few minutes more the
danger was passed. As I settled back, entirely overcome
by the wild emotions that had raged within me, we began
to turn the river; and before I was fairly recovered, the
fireman had stopped the train in the station house at
Schwetz.
20. Martin Kroller, still insensible, was taken from the
FIFTH HEADER. 221
platform ; and, as we carried him to the guard room, one of
the guard recognized him, and told us that he had been
there about two weeks before,
" He came," said the guard, " and swore that an engine
which stood near by was his. He said it was one he had
made to go to the moon in, and that it had been stolen from
him. We sent for more help to arrest him, and he fled."
" Well," I replied, with, a shudder, " I wish he had ap-
proached me in the same way; but he was more cautious
at Dantzic."
At Schwartz we found an engineer to run the engine to
Bromberg ; and having taken out the western mail for the
next northern mail to carry along, we saw that Kroller
would be properly attended to, and then started on.
21. The rest of the trip we ran in safety, though I could
see the passengers were not wholly at ease, and would not
be until they were entirely clear of the railway. Martin
Kroller remained insensible from the effects of the blow
nearly two weeks; and when he recovered from that, he
was sound again ; his insanity was all gone. I saw him
about three weeks afterward, but he had no recollection
of me. He remembered nothing of the past year, not even
his mad freak on my engine. But I remembered it, and I
remember it still; and the people need never fear that I
shall be imposed upon again by a crazy engineer.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Com'pe-tent, Jit, qualified. 4. June'ture,
point of time, crisis. Re-mon'strate, to present strong reasons against
any course of proceedings. 7. Apt' ness, fitness, suitableness. 8. Com-
posed 7 , calm. 11. Ap-pre-hend', to entertain suspicion or fear of.
14. Ten'der, a car attached to a locomotive to supply it with fuel and
water. 18. Pre-^i'gion (pro. pre-sizh'un), accuracy, exactness.
NOTE. This incident is said to have taken place on the rail-
way following the valley of the Vistula River, in Prussia, from
Dantzic to Bromberg. The cities mentioned are all in Prussia,
excepting Stockholm, which is the capital of Sweden.
228 ECLECTIC SERIES.
THE HERITAGE!.
James Russell Lowell (6. 1819, d. 1891) was born in Cambridge, Mass.,
and was graduated from Harvard College. He entered the profession of
law; but, in 1843, turned aside to publish "The Pioneer, a Literary and
Critical Magazine." In 1855 he was appointed professor of Belles-lettres
in Harvard College. From 1877 to 1885 he was U.S. Minister, first to
Spain, afterwards to Great Britain. Lowell's powers as a writer were
very versatile, and his poems range from the most dreamy and imagi-
native to the most trenchant and witty. Among his most noted poetical
works are " The Biglow Papers," " A Fable for Critics," " The Vision of
Sir Launfal," "The Cathedral," and "The Legend of Brittany;" while
"Conversations on some of the Old Poets," "Among my Books," and
" My Study Windows," place him in the front rank as an essayist.
1. THE rich man's son inherits lands,
And piles of brick, and stone, and gold,
And he inherits soft white hands,
And tender flesh that fears the cold,
Nor dares to wear a garment old;
A heritage, it seems to me,
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
2. The rich man's son inherits cares;
The bank may break, the factory burn,
A breath may burst his bubble shares,
And soft white hands could hardly earn
A living that would serve his turn;
A heritage, it seems to me,
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
3. The rich man's son inherits wants,
His stomach craves for dainty fare;
With sated heart, he hears the pants
Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare,
And wearies in his easy-chair;
A heritage, it seems to me,
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
FIFTH READER.
4. What doth, the poor man's son inherit?
Stout muscles and a sinewy heart,
A. hardy frame, a hardier spirit;
King of two hands, he does his part
In every useful toil and art;
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
5. What doth the poor man's son inherit?
Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things,
A rank adjudged by toil-won merit,
Content that from employment springs,
A heart that in his labor sings;
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
6. What doth the poor man's son inherit?
A patience learned of being poor,
Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it,
A fellow-feeling that is sure
To make the outcast bless his door;
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
7. rich man's son! there is a toil
That with all others level stands:
Large charity doth never soil,
But only whiten soft, white hands,
This is the best crop from thy lands;
A heritage, it seems to me,
Worth being rich to hold in fee.
8. poor man's son! scorn not thy state;
There is worse weariness than thine
In merely being rich and great:
230 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Toil only gives the soul to shine,
And makes rest fragrant and benign;
A heritage, it seems to me,
Worth being poor to hold in fee.
9. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod,
Are equal in the earth at last;
Both, children of the same dear God,
Prove title to your heirship vast
By record of a well-filled past;
A heritage, it seems to me,
Well worth a life to hold in fee.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Her'it-age, that which is inherited, or taken
by descent, from an ancestor. 3. Sat'ed, surfeited, glutted. Hinds,
peasants, countrymen. 5. Ad-judged', decided, determined. 8. Be-
nign' (pro. be-nin'), having healthful qualities, wholesome.
NOTES. 1. To hold in fee, means to have as an inheritance.
9. Prove title. That is, to prove the right of ownership.
LXXI. NO EXCELLENCE WITHOUT LABOR.
William Wirt (6. 1772, d. 1834) was born in Bladensburg, Md. He
was admitted to the bar in 1799, and afterwards practiced law, with
eminent success, at Richmond and Norfolk, Va. He was one of the coun-
sel for the prosecution in the trial of Aaron Burr for treason. From 1817
to 1829 he was attorney-general for the United States. In 1803 he pub-
lished the " Letters of a British Spy," a work which attracted much at-
tention, and in 1817 a " Life of Patrick Henry."
1. THE education, moral and intellectual, of every indi-
vidual, must be chiefly his own work. Rely upon it that
the ancients were right; both in morals and intellect we
give the final shape to our characters, and thus become,
emphatically, the architects of our own fortune. How else
FIFTH READER.
could it happen that young men, who have had precisely
the same opportunities, should be continually presenting us
with such different results, and rushing to such opposite
destinies ?
2. Difference of talent will not solve it, because that dif-
ference is very often in favor of the disappointed candidate.
You will see issuing from the walls of the same college,
nay, sometimes from the bosom of the same family, two
young men, of whom one will be admitted to be a genius
of high order, the other scarcely above the point of medi-
ocrity; yet you will see the genius sinking and perishing
in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness; while, on the
other hand, you will observe the mediocre plodding his
slow but sure way up the hill of life, gaining steadfast
footing at every step, and mounting, at length, to eminence
and distinction, an ornament to his family, a blessing to
his country.
3. Now, whose work is this? Manifestly their own.
They are the architects of their respective fortunes. The
best seminary of learning that can open its portals to you
can do no more than to afford you the opportunity of in-
struction; but it must depend, at last, on yourselves,
whether you will be instructed or not, or to what point
you will push your instruction.
4. And of this be assured, I speak from observation a
certain truth: THERE is NO EXCELLENCE WITHOUT GREAT
LABOR. It is the fiat of fate, from which no power of
genius can absolve you.
5. Genius, unexerted, is like the poor moth that flut-
ters around a candle till it scorches itself to death. If
genius be desirable at all, it is only of that great and
magnanimous kind, which, like the condor of South
America, pitches from the summit of Chimborazo, above
the clouds, and sustains itself at pleasure in that empyreal
region with an energy rather invigorated than weakened by
the effort
232 ECLECTIC SERIES.
6. It is this capacity for high and long-continued exer-
tion, this vigorous power of profound and searching inves-
tigation, this careering and wide-spreading comprehension
of mind, and these long reaches of thought, that
" Pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,
And pluck up drowned honor by the locks j "
this is the prowess, and these the hardy achievements,
which are to enroll your names among the great men of
the earth.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Mor'al, relating to duty or obligation. Ar'-
ehi-teets, builders, makers. Des'ti-ny, ultimate fate, appointed con-
dition. 2. Can'di-date, one who seeks after some honor or office.
Gen'ius (pro. jen'yus), a man of superior intellectual powers. Me-
di-6e'ri-ty, a middle state or degree of talents. Me'di-6-ere (pro.
me'di-o-kr), a man of moderate talents. 3. Re-spee'tive, particular,
own. 4. Ab-solve',setf?-ee, release from. Fl' at, a decree. 5. Con'-
dor, a large bird of the vulture family. Em-pyr'e-al, relating to the
highest and purest region of the heavens. 6. Ca-reer'ing, moving
rapidly. Prow'ess (pro. prou'es), bravery, boldness.
NOTES. 5. Chimborazo (pro. chim-bo-ra'zo), is an extinct vol-
cano in Ecuador, whose height is 20,517 feet above the sea.
6. The quotation is from Shakespeare's "King Henry IV,"
Part I, Act i, Scene 3.
LXXII. THE OLD HOUSE CLOCK.
1. OH! the old, old clock of the household stock,
Was the brightest thing, and neatest;
Its hands, though old, had a touch of gold,
And its chimes rang still the sweetest;
FIFTH READER. 233
J Twas a monitor, too, though its words were few,
Yet they lived, though nations altered;
And its voice, still strong, warned old and young,
When the voice of friendship faltered :
" Tick ! tick ! " it said, " quick, quick, to bed :
For ten I've given warning;
Up! up! and go, or else you know,
You'll never rise soon in the morning!"
2. A friendly voice was that old, old clock,
As it stood in the corner smiling,
And blessed the time with merry chime,
The wintry hours beguiling;
But a cross old voice was that tiresome clock,
As it called at daybreak boldly;
When the dawn looked gray o'er the misty way,
And the early air looked coldly:
"Tick! tick!" it said, "quick out of bed:
For five I've given warning;
You'll never have health, you'll never have wealth,
Unless you 're up soon in the morning ! "
3. Still hourly the sound goes round and round,
With a tone that ceases never:
While tears are shed for bright days fled,
And the old friends lost forever!
Its heart beats on, though hearts are gone
That beat like ours, though stronger;
Its hands still move, though hands we love
Are clasped on earth no longer!
"Tick! tick!" it said, "to the churchyard bed,
The grave hath given warning;
Up ! up ! and rise, and look at the skies,
And prepare for a heavenly morning!"
234 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXIII. THE EXAMINATION
Daniel Pierce Thompson (6. 1793, d. 1868) was born at Charles
town, Mass., but soon removed with his father to Vermont, where he
lived until twenty years of age, on a farm. His means of schooling were
most limited, but he was very ambitious and seized every opportunity.
By his own efforts he earned enough money to carry him through Mid-
dlebury College, where he graduated in 1820. He then went to Virginia
as private tutor, and while there was entered at the bar. He shortly re-
turned to Vermont, and opened a law office in Montpelier. In time he
was elected a judge, and later secretary of state. From his college days
Mr. Thompson was a writer for the various magazines. Among his novels
may be mentioned "Locke Amsden, the Schoolmaster," " May Martin, or
the Money Diggers," " The Green Mountain Boys," and " The Rangers, or
the Tory's Daughter."
1. "HAVE you any questions to ask me in the other
branches, sir ? " asked Locke.
" Not many," replied Bunker. " There is reading, writ-
ing, grammar, etc., which I know nothing about; and as
to them, I must, of course, take you by guess, which will
not be much of a guess, after all, if I find you have
thought well on all other matters. Do you understand
philosophy ? "
2. " To what branch of philosophy do you allude, sir ? "
" To the only branch there is."
" But you are aware that philosophy is divided into dif-
ferent kinds ; as, natural, moral, and intellectual."
"Nonsense! philosophy is philosophy, and means the
study of the reasons and causes of the things which we
see, whether it be applied to a crazy man's dreams, or the
roasting of potatoes. Have you attended to it ? "
" Yes, to a considerable extent, sir."
3. "I will put a question or two, then, if you please.
What is the reason of the fact, for it is a fact, that the
damp breath of a person blown on a good knife and on a
bad one, will soonest disappear from the well-tempered
blade?"
FIFTH READER. ^35
"It may be owing to the difference in the polish of the
two blades, perhaps," replied Locke.
4. "Ah! that is an answer that don't go deeper than
the surface," rejoined Bunker, humorously. "As good a
thinker as you evidently are, you have not thought on
this subject, I suspect. It took me a week, in all, I pre-
sume, of hard thinking, and making experiments at a
blacksmith's shop, to discover the reason of this. It is
not the polish ; for take two blades of equal polish, and
the breath will disappear from one as much quicker than
it does from the other, as the blade is better. It is because
the material of the blade is more compact or less porous
in one case than in the other.
5. "In the first place, I ascertained that the steel was
made more compact by being hammered and tempered,
and that the better it was tempered the more compact it
would become ; the size of the pores being made, of course,
less in the same proportion. Well, then, I saw the reason
I was in search of, at once. For we know a wet sponge is
longer in drying than a wet piece of green wood, because
the pores of the first are bigger. A seasoned or shrunk
piece of wood dries quicker than a green one, for the same
reason.
6. "Or you might bore a piece of wood with large
gimlet holes, and another with small ones, fill them both
with water, and let them stand till the water evaporated,
and the difference of time it would take to do this would
make the case still more plain. So with the blades: the
vapor lingers longest on the worst wrought and tempered
one, because the pores, being larger, take in more of the
wet particles, and require more time in drying."
7. "Your theory is at least a very ingenious one," ob-
served Locke, "and I am reminded by it of another of
the natural phenomena, of the true explanation of which
I have not been able to satisfy myself. It is this : what
makes the earth freeze harder and deeper under a trodden
236 ECLECTIC SERIES.
path than the untrodden earth around it ? All that I have
asked, say it is because the trodden earth is more compact.
But is that reason a sufficient one ? "
8. "No," said Bunker, "but I will tell you what the
reason is, for I thought that out long ago. You know
that, in the freezing months, much of the warmth we get
is given out by the earth, from which, at intervals, if not
constantly, to some extent, ascend the warm vapors to
mingle with and moderate the cold atmosphere above.
9. "Now these ascending streams of warm air would be
almost wholly obstructed by the compactness of a trodden
path, and they would naturally divide at some distance
below it, and pass up through the loose earth on each
side, leaving the ground along the line of the path, to a
great depth beneath it, a cold, dead mass, through which
the frost would continue to penetrate, unchecked by the
internal heat, which, in its unobstructed ascent on each
side, would be continually checking or overcoming the frost
in its action on the earth around.
10. "That, sir, is the true philosophy of the case, you
may depend upon it. But we will now drop the discussion
of these matters; for I am abundantly satisfied that you
have not only knowledge enough, but that you can think
for yourself. And now, sir, all I wish to know further
about you is, whether you can teach others to think, which
is half the battle with a teacher. But as I have had an
eye on this point, while attending to the others, probably
one experiment, which I will ask you to make on one of
the boys here, will be all I shall want."
" Proceed, sir," said the other.
11. " Ay, sir," rejoined Bunker, turning to the open fire-
place, in which the burning wood was sending up a column
of smoke, "there, you see that smoke rising, don't you?
Well, you and I know the reason why smoke goes upward,
but my youngest boy does not, I think. Now take your
own way, and see if you can make him understand it."
FIFTH READER. 237
12. Locke, after a moment's reflection, and a glance
round the room for something to serve for apparatus, took
from a shelf, where he had espied a number of articles,
the smallest of a set of cast-iron cart boxes, as are usually
termed the round hollow tubes in which the axletree of a
carriage turns. Then selecting a tin cup that would just
take in the box, and turning into the cup as much water
as he judged, with the box, would fill it, he presented
them separately to the boy, and said,
" There, my lad, tell me which of these is the heavier. "
13. "Why, the cart box, to be sure," replied the boy,
taking the cup, half-filled with water, in one hand, and the
hollow iron in the other.
"Then you think this iron is heavier than as much
water as would fill the place of it, do you ? " resumed
Locke.
"Why, yes, as heavy again, and more too I know it
is," promptly said the boy.
14. " Well, sir, now mark what I do/' proceeded the
former, dropping into the cup the iron box, through the
hollow of which the water instantly rose to the brim of
the vessel.
" There, you saw that water rise to the top of the cup,
did you ? "
"Yes, I did."
" Very well, what caused it to do so ? "
15. " Why, I know well enough, if I could only think :
why, it is because the iron is the heavier, and as it comes
all around the water so it can't get away sideways, it is
forced up."
" That is right ; and now I want you to tell what makes
that smoke rise up the chimney."
16. "Why, I guess," replied the boy, hesitating, "I
guess, I guess I don't know."
" Did you ever get up in a chair to look on some high
shelf, so that your head was brought near the ceiling of a
ECLECTIC SERIES.
heated room, in winter ? and did you notice any difference
between the air up there and the air near the floor ? "
17. "Yes, I remember I have, and found the air up
there as warm as mustard; and when I got down, and
bent my head near the floor to pick up something, I found
it as cold as could be."
" That is ever the case ; but I wish you to tell me how
the cold air always happens to settle down to the lower
part of the room, while the warm air, somehow, at the
same time, gets above."
18. " Why, why, heavy things settle down, and the cold
air yes, yes, that 7 s it, I am sure the cold air is heavier,
and so settles down, and crowds up the warm air."
"Very good. You then understand that cold air is
heavier than the heated air, as that iron is heavier than
the water; so now we will go back to the main question
what makes the smoke go upwards ? "
19. " Oh ! I see now as plain as day ; the cold air settles
down all round, like the iron box, and drives up the hot
air as fast as the fire heats it, in the middle, like the water ;
and so the hot air carries the smoke along up with it, just
as feathers and things in a whirlwind. Well! I have
found out what makes smoke go up isn't it curious?"
20. "Done like a philosopher!" cried Bunker. "The
thing is settled. I will grant that you are a teacher
among a thousand. You can not only think yourself, but
can teach others to think; so you may call the position
yours as quick as you please."
DEFINITIONS. 2. Tn-tel-lee'tu-al, treating of the mind. 3. Tem'-
pered, brought to a proper degree of hardness. 4. Com-paet', closely
and firmly united, solid, dense. 4. Pdr'ous,full of pores or minute
openings. 6. E-vap'o-rat-ed, passed off in vapor. 7. In-gen'ious
(pro. in-jen'yus), well formed, skillful. 7. Phe-nom'e-non, whatever
w presented to the eye. 8. In'ter-val, spaces of time. 12. Ap-pa-
ra'tus, utensils for performing experiments.
FIFTH READER. 239
NOTE. Locke Amsden is represented as a bright young student
in search of a position as teacher of a district school in Vermont.
Mr. Bunker, the " Examining Committee," is a queer, shrewd old
farmer, who can neither read nor write, but by careful observa-
tion has picked up a large amount of valuable information. The
story opens in the midst of the examination.
LXXIV. THE ISLE OF LONG AGO.
Benjamin Franklin Taylor (b. 1819, d. 1887) was born at Lowville,
X.Y. He graduated at Madison University, of which his father was
president. In 1845 he published " Attractions of Language." For many
years he was literary editor of the " Chicago Journal." Mr. Taylor wrote
considerably for the magazines, was the author of many well-known
favorite pieces both in prose and verse, and achieved success as a
lecturer.
1. OH, a wonderful stream is the river of Time,
As it runs through the realm of tears,
With a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme,
And a boundless sweep and a surge sublime,
As it blends with the ocean of Years.
2. How the winters are drifting, like flakes of snow,
And the summers, like buds between;
And the year in the sheaf so they come and they go,
On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow,
As it glides in the shadow and sheen.
3. There's a magical isle up the river of Time,
Where the softest of airs are playing;
There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime,
And a song as sweet as a vesper chime,
And the Junes with the roses are staying.
240 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. And the name of that isle is the Long Ago,
And we bury our treasures there;
There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow
There are heaps of dust but we love them so!
There are trinkets and tresses of hair;
5. There are fragments of song that nobody sings,
And a part of an infant's prayer,
There's a lute unswept, and a harp without strings;
There are broken vows and pieces of rings,
And the garments that she used to wear.
6. There are hands that are waved, when the fairy shore
By the mirage is lifted in air;
And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar,
Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before,
When the wind down the river is fair.
7. Oh, remembered for aye be the blessed Isle,
All the day of our life till night
When the evening comes with its beautiful smile,
And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile,
May that " Greenwood " of Soul be in sight !
DEFINITIONS. 1. Realm, region, country. Rhythm, the har-
monious flow of vocal sounds. Rhyme, a word answering in sound
to another word. Surge, a great, rolling swell of water. 3. Ves'per,
pertaining to the evening service in the Roman Catholic Church.
6. Mi-rage' (pro. me-razh'), an optical illusion causing objects at a
distance to seem as though suspended in the air. 7. Aye (pro. a),
always, ever.
NOTES. 5. A lute unswept ; that is, unplayed.
7. Greenwood is a noted and very beautiful cemetery at the
southern extremity of Brooklyn, N.Y. The expression means,
then, the resting place of the soul.
FIFTH READER. 241
. THE BOSTON MASSACRE.
George Bancroft (b. 1800, d. 1891) was born at Worcester, Mass.
He was an ambitious student, and graduated at Harvard College before
he was eighteen years of age. He then traveled in Europe, spending
some time at the German universities. On his return, in 1822, he was
appointed tutor in Greek at Harvard. His writings at this time were a
small volume of original poems, some translations from Schiller and
Goethe, and a few striking essays. Mr. Bancroft has held numerous high
political offices. In 1838 he was appointed collector of the port at Boston ;
in 1845 he was made secretary of the navy ; in 1849 he was sent as United '
States Minister to Great Britain ; and in 1867 he was sent in the same
capacity to Prussia. The work which has given Mr. Bancroft his great
literary reputation is his "History of the United States, from the Dis-
covery of the American Continent." The first volume appeared in 1834.
Philosophical in reasoning, interesting, terse in style, and founded on
careful research, under the most favorable advantages, the work stands
alone in its sphere.
1. THE evening of the fifth came on. The young moon
was shining brightly in a cloudless winter sky, and its light
was increased by a new-fallen snow. Parties of soldiers
were driving about the streets, making a parade of valor,
challenging resistance, and striking the inhabitants indis-
criminately with sticks or sheathed cutlasses.
2. A band, which poured out from Murray's barracks,
in Brattle Street, armed with clubs, cutlasses, and bayo-
nets, provoked resistance, and a fray ensued. Ensign
Maul, at the gate of the barrack yard, cried to the sol-
diers: "Turn out, and I will stand by you; kill them;
stick them ; knock them down ; run your bayonets through
them." One soldier after another leveled a firelock, and
threatened to " make a lane " through the crowd.
3. Just before nine, as an officer crossed King Street,
now State Street, a barber's lad cried after him : " There
goes a mean fellow who hath not paid my father for dress-
ing his hair ; " on which, the sentinel stationed at the west-
erly end of the customhouse, on the corner of King Street
and Exchange Lane, left his post, and with his musket
gave the boy a stroke on the head, that made him stagger
and cry for pain.
(5. 16,,
242 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. The street soon became clear, and nobody troubled
the sentry, when a party of soldiers issued violently from
the main guard, their arms glittering in the moonlight,
and passed on, hallooing : " Where are they ? where are
they? Let them come."
5. Presently twelve or fifteen more, uttering the same
cries, rushed from the south into King Street, and so by
the way of Cornhill towards Murray's barracks. "Pray,
soldiers, spare my life," cried a boy of twelve, whom they
met. "No, no, I'll kill you all," answered one of them,
and knocked him down with his cutlass. They abused and
insulted several persons at their doors and others in the
street; "running about like madmen in a fury," crying,
" Fire ! " which seemed their watchword, and, " Where are
they ? Knock them down." Their outrageous behavior
occasioned the ringing of the bell at the head of King
Street.
6. The citizens, whom the alarm set in motion, came
out with canes and clubs; and, partly by the interference
of well-disposed officers, partly by the courage of Crispus
Attacks, a mulatto, and some others, the fray at the bar-
racks was soon over. Of the citizens, the prudent shouted,
" Home ! home ! " others, it is said, cried out, " Huzza for
the main guard! there is the nest;" but the main guard
was not molested the whole evening.
7 A body of soldiers came up Eoyal Exchange Lane,
crying, " Where are the cowards ? " and, brandishing their
arms, passed through King Street. From ten to twenty
boys came after them, asking, "Where are they? where
are they ? " " There is the soldier who knocked me down,"
said the barber's boy ; and they began pushing one another
towards the sentinel. He loaded and primed his musket.
" The lobster is going to fire," cried a boy. Waving his
piece about, the sentinel pulled the trigger.
8. " If you fire you must die for it," said Henry Knox.
who was passing by. "I don't care," replied the sentry,
FIFTH READER. 248
"if they touch me, I'll fire." "Fire!" shouted the boys,
for they were persuaded he could not do it without leave
from a civil officer; and a young fellow spoke out, "We
will knock him down for snapping," while they whistled
through their fingers and huzzaed. " Stand off ! " said the
sentry, and shouted aloud, "Turn out, main guard!"
"They are killing the sentinel," reported a servant from
the customhouse, running to the main guard. " Turn out !
why don't you turn out ? " cried Preston, who was captain
of the day, to the guard.
9. A party of six, two of whom, Kilroi and Mont-
gomery, had been worsted at the ropewalk, formed, with a
corporal in front and Preston following. With bayonets
fixed, they " rushed through the people " upon the trot,
cursing them, and pushing them as they went along.
They found about ten persons round the sentry, while
about fifty or sixty came down with them. "For God's
sake," said Knox, holding Preston by the coat, " take your
men back again; if they fire, your life must answer for
the consequences." "I know what I am about," said he
hastily, and much agitated.
10. None pressed on them or provoked them till they
began loading, when a party of about twelve in number,
with sticks in their hands, moved from the middle of the
street where they had been standing, gave three cheers,
and passed along the front of the soldiers, whose muskets
some of them struck as they went by. "You are cow-
ardly rascals," they said, "for bringing arms against naked
men." " Lay aside your guns, and we are ready for you."
"Are the soldiers loaded?" inquired Palmes of Preston.
"Yes," he answered, "with powder and ball." "Are
they going to fire upon the inhabitants ? " asked Theodore
Bliss. "They can not, without my orders," replied Pres-
ton; while "the town-born" called out, "Come on, you
rascals, you bloody backs, you lobster scoundrels, fire, if
you dare. We know you dare not."
244 ECLECTIC SERIES.
11. Just then, Montgomery received a blow from a stick
which had hit his musket ; and the word " fire ! " being
given by Preston, he stepped a little to one side, and shot
Attucks, who at the time was quietly leaning on a long
stick. " Don't fire ! " said Langf ord, the watchman, to
Kilroi, looking him full in the face; but yet he did so,
and Samuel Gray, who was standing next Langford, fell
lifeless. The rest fired slowly and in succession on the
people, who were dispersing. Three persons were killed,
among them Attucks, the mulatto; eight were wounded,
two of them mortally. Of all the eleven, not more than
one had any share in the disturbance.
12. So infuriated were the soldiers that, when the men
returned to take up the dead, they prepared to fire again,
but were checked by Preston, while the Twenty-ninth Regi-
ment appeared under arms in King Street. "This is our
time," cried the soldiers of the Fourteenth ; and dogs were
never seen more greedy for their prey.
13. The bells rung in all the churches ; the town drums
beat. " To arms ! to arms ! " was the cry. " Our hearts,"
said Warren, " beat to arms, almost resolved by one stroke
to avenge the death of our slaughtered brethren;" but
they stood self-possessed, demanding justice according to
the law. "Did you not know that you should not have
fired without the order of a civil magistrate?" asked
Hutchinson, on meeting Preston. "I did it," answered
Preston, " to save my men."
14. The people would not be pacified or retire till the
regiment was confined to the guardroom and the barracks ;
and Hutchinson himself gave assurances that instant in-
quiries should be made by the county magistrates. One
hundred persons remained to keep watch on the examina-
tion, which lasted till three hours after midnight. A war-
rant was issued against Preston, who surrendered himself
to the sheriff ; and the soldiers of his party were delivered
up and committed to prison.
FIFTH READER. 245
DEFINITIONS. 1. In-dis-erim'i-nate-ly, without distinction. 2
En-sued', followed, resulted from. En'sign (pro . en'sin ) , an officer of
low rank. Firelock, an old-style musket, with a flintlock. 7. Bran'-
dish-ing, waving, flourishing. 13. Self'-pos-sessed, undisturbed, calm
in mind, manner, etc. 14. Pa^'i-fled, calmed, quieted. War/rant, a
writ authorizing an officer to seize an offender.
NOTES. This massacre took place Monday, March 5, 1770.
5. Cornhill is the name of a street in Boston.
7. Lobster was the epithet applied to a British soldier by the
Americans on account of his red coat.
8. Henry Knox (b. 1750, d. 1806) was then a bookseller in
Boston. He afterwards became one of the American generals.
9. Ropewalk. The active trouble resulting in the massacre
arose from a soldier's being thrashed the Friday before at Gray's
ropewalk, where he had challenged one of the workmen to fight;
other soldiers joined in the affray from time to time, but were
always worsted.
13. Warren. This was Joseph Warren (6. 1741, d. 1775), the
American patriot, killed shortly after at Bunker Hill.
Thomas Hutchinson was at this time lieutenant governor of
Massachusetts. Although born in Boston, he sided with the
British government in the troubles before the Revolution, and
sailed for England in 1774.
LXXVI. DEATH OP THE BEAUTIFUL.
Eliza Lee Follen (b. 1787, d. 1859) was born in Boston, Mass. Her
maiden name was Cabott. In 1828, she married Charles Follen, Professor
of the German language and its literature in Harvard University. Her
principal works are " Sketches of Married Life," " The Skeptic," "Twi-
light Stories," and " Little Songs." For several years Mrs. Follen was
editor of the " Children's Friend."
1. THE young, the lovely, pass away,
Ne'er to be seen again;
Earth's fairest flowers too soon decay,
Its blasted trees remain.
246 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. Full oft, we see the brightest thing
That lifts its head on high,
Smile in the light, then droop its wing,
And fade away and die.
3. And kindly is the lesson given;
Then dry the falling tear:
They came to raise our hearts to Heaven;
They go to call us there.
LXXVII. SNOW PALLING.
John James Piatt (b. 1835, ) was born in Dearborn County,
Ind., and is of French descent. He began to write verses at the age of
fourteen, and has been connected editorially with several papers. Several
editions of his poems have been issued from time to time, each edition
usually containing some additional poems. Of these volumes we may
mention: "Poems in Sunshine and Firelight," "Western Windows,"
"The Lost Farm," and "Poems of House and Home."
1. THE wonderful snow is falling
Over river and woodland and wold;
The trees bear spectral blossom
In the moonshine blurr'd and cold.
2. There's a beautiful garden in Heaven;
And these are the banished flowers,
Tailing and driven and drifted
Into this dark world of ours.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Wold, a plain or open country, a country
without wood whether hiUy or not. Spee'tral, ghostly. 2. Ban'ished,
condemned to exile, driven away.
FIFTH READER. 247
LXXVIII. SQUEERS'S METHOD.
Charles Dickens (6. 1812, d. 1870) . This celebrated novelist was born
in Portsmouth, England. He began his active life as a lawyer's appren-
tice, in London ; but soon became a reporter, and followed this occupation
from 1831 to 1836. His first book was entitled " Sketches of London
Society, by Boz." In 1837 he published the " Pickwick Papers," a work
which established his reputation as a writer. His other works followed
with great rapidity, and his last, " Edwin Drood," was unfinished when he
died. He visited America in 1842 and in 1867. He is buried in West-
minster Abbey. Mr. Dickens excelled in humor and pathos, and was
particularly successful in delineating the joys and griefs of childhood.
His writings have a tendency to prompt to deeds of kindness and benevo-
lence. The following extract is taken from " Nicholas Nickleby," one of
the best of his novels.
1. "COME," said Squeers, "let's go to the schoolroom j
and lend me a hand with my school coat, will you ? "
Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old fustian
shooting jacket, which he took down from a peg in the
passage; and Squeers, arming himself with his cane, led
the way across a yard to a door in the rear of the house.
"There," said the schoolmaster, as they stepped in to
gether ; " this is our shop, Nickleby."
2. It was such a crowded scene, and there were so many
objects to attract attention, that at first Nicholas stared
about him, really without seeing anything at all. By de-
grees, however, the place resolved itself into a bare and
dirty room with a couple of windows, whereof a tenth part
might be of glass, the remainder being stopped up with
old copy books and paper.
3. There were a couple of long, old, rickety desks, cut
and notched, and inked and damaged in every possible
way ; two or three forms, a detached desk for Squeers, and
another for his assistant. The ceiling was supported like
that of a barn, by crossbeams and rafters, and the wails
were so stained and discolored that it was impossible
to tell whether they had ever been touched by paint or
whitewash.
248 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. Pale and haggard faces, lank and bony figures, chil-
dren with the countenances of old men, deformities with
irons apon their limbs, boys of stunted growth, and others
whose long, meager legs would hardly bear their stooping
bodies, all crowded on the view together. There were little
faces which should have been handsome, darkened with the
scowl of sullen, dogged suffering ; there was childhood with
the light of its eye quenched, its beauty gone, and its
helplessness alone remaining.
5. And yet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque
features, which, in a less interested observer than Nicholas,
might have provoked a smile. Mrs. Squeers stood at one
of the desks, presiding over an immense basin of brimstone
and treacle, of which delicious compound she administered
a large installment to each boy in succession, using for the
purpose a common wooden spoon, which might have been
originally manufactured for some gigantic top, and which
widened every young gentleman's mouth considerably, they
being all obliged, under heavy corporeal penalties, to take
in the whole bowl at a gasp.
6. "Now," said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap
with his cane, which made half the little boys nearly jump
out of their boots, " is that physicking over ? "
" Just over," said Mrs. Squeers, choking the last boy in
her hurry, and tapping the crown of his head with the
wooden spoon to restore him. "Here, you Smike: take
away now. Look sharp!"
7. Smike shuffled out with the basin, and Mrs. Squeers
hurried out after him into a species of washhouse, where
there was a small fire, and a large kettle, together with a
number of little wooden bowls which were arranged upon
a board. Into these bowls Mrs. Squeers, assisted by the
hungry servant, poured a brown composition which looked
like diluted pincushions without the covers, and was called
porridge. A minute wedge of brown bread was inserted
in each bowl, and when they had eaten their porridge by
FIFTH READER.
249
means of the bread, the boys ate the bread itself, and had
finished their breakfast, whereupon Mr. Squeers went away
to his own.
8. After some half-hour's delay Mr. Squeers reappeared,
and the boys took their places and their books, of which
latter commodity the average might be about one to eight
250 ECLECTIC SERIES.
learners. A few minutes having elapsed, during which Mr.
Squeers looked very profound, as if he had a perfect appre-
hension of what was inside all the books, and could say
every word of their contents by heart, if he only chose to
take the trouble, that gentleman called up the first class.
9. Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves
in front of the schoolmaster's desk, half a dozen scarecrows,
out at knees and elbows, one of whom placed a torn and
filthy book beneath his learned eye.
" This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy,
Nickleby," said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside
him. "We'll get up a Latin one, and hand that over to
you. Now, then, where 's the first boy ? "
10. " Please, sir, he 's cleaning the back parlor window,"
said the temporary head of the philosophical class.
" So he is, to be sure," rejoined Squeers. " We go upon
the practical mode of teaching, Nickleby ; the regular edu-
cation system. C-1-e-a-n, clean, verb active, to make bright,
to scour. W-i-n, win, d-e-r, der, winder, a casement. When
the boy knows this out of book, he goes and does it. It 's
just the same principle as the use of the globes. Where *s
the second boy ? "
11. "Please, sir, he is weeding the garden," replied a
small voice.
"To be sure," said Squeers, by no means disconcerted,
"so he is. B-o-t, bot, t-i-n, tin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney, noun
substantive, a knowledge of plants. When he has learned
that bottinney means a knowledge of plants, he goes and
knows 'em. That's our system, Nickleby: what do you
think of it ? "
" It 's a very useful one, at any rate," answered Nicholas,
significantly.
12. " I believe you," rejoined Squeers, not remarking the
emphasis of his usher. " Third boy, what 's a horse ? "
"A beast, sir," replied the boy.
" So it is," said Squeers. " Ain't it, Nickleby ? "
FIFTH READER. 251
"I believe there is no doubt of that, sir," answered
Nicholas.
"Of course there isn't," said Squeers. "A horse is a
quadruped, and quadruped 's Latin for beast, as everybody
that's gone through the grammar knows, or else where 's
the use of having grammars at all?"
"Where, indeed!" said Nicholas, abstractedly.
13. " As you 're perfect in that," resumed Squeers, turn-
ing to the boy, " go and look after my horse, and rub him
down well, or I '11 rub you down. The rest of the class go
and draw water up till somebody tells you to leave off, for it 's
washing day to-morrow, and they want the coppers filled."
DEFINITIONS. 1. Fus'tian, a kind of cotton stuff, including
corduroy, velveteen, etc. 2. Re-solved', made clear, disentangled.
4. De-form'i-ties, misshapen persons. Stiint'ed, checked in growth.
Mea'ger, thin, lean. 5. Gro-tesque' {pro. gro-tesk'),/ancz/M/, absurd.
Ad-mm'is-tered, gave, dispensed. In-stall'ment (literally, part of
a debt), part, portion. Cor-po're-al, bodily. 6. Phys'iek-ing,
doctoring, treating with medicine. 7. Dl-lut'ed, weakened by the
addition of water. 8. Com-m6d'i-*y, article, wares. Pro-found',
intellectually deep, wise. Ap-pre-hen'sion, comprehension, knowl-
edge. 10. Tem'po-ra-ry, for the time being. 11. Dis-eon-cert'ed,
confused, abashed. Sig-nif'i-cant-ly, with meaning. 12. Ab-straet'-
ed-ly, in an absent-minded way.
NOTES. 1. Mr. Squeers is represented as an ignorant, brutal
teacher, many of whom were to be found in Yorkshire, England,
at the time of this story.
Nicholas Nickleby is a well-educated, refined young man, who
has just obtained the position of assistant teacher, not knowing
Squeers's true character.
6. Smike is a poor scholar, disowned by his parents, and made
almost idiotic by harsh treatment.
The novel from which this story is abridged, aided greatly in
a much-needed reform in the Yorkshire schools ; and the character
of Squeers was so true to life, that numerous suits were threat-
ened against Mr. Dickens by those who thought themselves
caricatured.
262 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXIX. THE GIFT OP EMPTY HANDS.
Mrs. S. M. B. Piatt (b. 1835, ) was born near Lexington, Ky,
While still a young girl she began to write poetry, which was well re-
ceived. In 1861 she was married to the poet John James Piatt. Mrs.
Piatt's poetry is marked by tender pathos, thoughtfulness, and musical
flow of rhythm. The following selection is from " That New World/'
1. THEY were two princes doomed to death;
Each, loved his beauty and his breath:
"Leave us our life and we will bring
Fair gifts unto our lord, the king."
2. They went together. In the dew
A charmed bird before them flew.
Through sun and thorn one followed it;
Upon the other's arm it lit.
3. A rose, whose faintest flush was worth
All buds that ever blew on earth,
One climbed the rocks to reach; ah, well,
Into the other's breast it fell.
4. Weird jewels, such as fairies wear,
When moons go out, to light their hair,
One tried to touch on ghostly ground;
Gems of quick fire the other found.
5. One with the dragon fought to gain
The enchanted fruit, and fought in vain;
The other breathed the garden's air
And gathered precious apples there.
6. Backward to the imperial gate
One took his fortune, one his fate:
One showed sweet gifts from sweetest lands,
The other, torn and empty hands.
FIFTH READER. 253
7. At bird, and rose, and gem, and fruit,
The king was sad, the king was mute;
At last he slowly said: "My son,
True treasure is not lightly won.
8. "Your brother's hands, wherein you see
Only these scars, show more to me
Than if a kingdom's price I found
In place of each forgotten wound."
DEFINITIONS. 1. Doomed, destined, condemned. 2. Charmed,
bewitched, enchanted. 3. Blew, blossomed, bloomed. 4. Weird,
tainted with witchcraft, supernatural. Quick, alive, living. 6. Im-
pe'ri-al, royal. 7 Mute, silent.
LXXX. CAPTURING THE WILD HORSE.
1. WE left the buffalo camp about eight o'clock, and
had a toilsome and harassing march of two hours, over
ridges of hills covered with a ragged forest of scrub oaks,
and broken by deep gullies.
2. About ten o'clock in the morning we came to where
this line of rugged hills swept down into a valley, through
which flowed the north fork of Red River. A beautiful
meadow, about half a mile wide, enameled with yellow,
autumnal flowers, stretched for two or three miles along
the foot of the hills, bordered on the opposite side by the
river, whose banks were fringed with cottonwood trees, the
bright foliage of which refreshed and delighted the eye,
after being wearied by the contemplation of monotonous
wastes of brown forest.
3. The meadow was finely diversified by groves and
clumps of trees, so happily dispersed that they seemed as
254 ECLECTIC SERIES.
if set out by the hand of art. As we cast our eyes over
this fresh and delightful valley, we beheld a troop of wild
horses quietly grazing on a green lawn, about a mile dis-
tant, to our right, while to our left, at nearly the same
distance, were several buffaloes; some feeding, others re-
posing, and ruminating among the high, neb herbage,
under the shade of a clump of cottonwood trees. The
whole had the appearance of a broad, beautiful tract of
pasture land, on the highly ornamented estate of some gen-
tleman farmer, with his cattle grazing about the lawns and
meadows.
4. A council of war was now held, and it was deter-
mined to profit by the present favorable opportunity, and
try our hand at the grand hunting maneuver which is
called "ringing the wild horse." This requires a large
party of horsemen, well mounted. They extend themselves
in each direction, at a certain distance apart, and gradu-
ally form a ring of two or three miles in circumference, so
as to surround the game. This must be done with extreme
care, for the wild horse is the most readily alarmed inhab-
itant of the prairie, and can scent a hunter a great distance,
if to windward.
5. The ring being formed, two or three ride toward the
horses, which start off in an opposite direction. Whenever
they approach the bounds of the ring, however, a hunts-
man presents himself, and turns them from their course.
In this way they are checked, and driven back at every
point, and kept galloping round and round this magic
circle, until, being completely tired down, it is easy for
hunters to ride up beside them and throw the lariat over
their heads. The prime horses of the most speed, courage,
and bottom, however, are apt to break through and escape,
BO that, in general, it is the second-rate horses that are
taken.
6. Preparations were now made for a nunt of this kind.
The pack horses were now taken into the woods and firmly
FIFTH READER. 255
tied to trees, lest in a rush, of the wild horses they should
break away. Twenty-five men were then sent under the
command of a lieutenant to steal along the edge of the
valley within the strip of wood that skirted the hills.
They were to station themselves about fifty yards apart,
within the edge of the woods, and not advance or show
themselves until the horses dashed in that direction.
Twenty-five men were sent across the valley to steal in
like manner along the river bank that bordered the oppo-
site side, and to station themselves among the trees.
7. A third party of about the same number was to form
a line, stretching across the lower part of the valley, so as
to connect the two wings. Beatte and our other half-breed,
Antoine, together with the ever-officious Tonish, were to
make a circuit through the woods so as to get to the upper
part of the valley, in the rear of the horses, and drive
them forward into the kind of sack that we had formed,
while the two wings should join behind them and make a
complete circle.
8. The flanking parties were quietly extending them-
selves out of sight, on each side of the valley, and the res-
idue were stretching themselves like the links of a chain
across it, when the wild horses gave signs that they scented
an enemy; snuffing the air, snorting, and looking about.
At length they pranced off slowly toward the river, and
disappeared behind a green bank.
9. Here, had the regulations of the chase been observed,
they would have been quietly checked and turned back by the
advance of a hunter from among the trees. Unluckily, how.
ever, we had our wildfire, Jack-o'-lantern little Frenchman
to deal with. Instead of keeping quietly up the right side
of the valley, to get above the horses, the moment he saw
them move toward the river he broke out of the covert of
woods and dashed furiously across the plain in pursuit of
them. This put an end to all system. The half-breeds,
and half a score of rangers, joined in the chase.
256 ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. Away they all went over the green bank. In a
moment or two the wild horses reappeared, and came thun-
dering down the valley, with Frenchman, half-breeds, and
rangers galloping and bellowing behind them. It was in
vain that the line drawn across the valley attempted to
check and turn back the fugitives; they were too hotly
pressed by their pursuers: in their panic they dashed
through the line, and clattered down the plain.
11. The whole troop joined in the headlong chase, some
of the rangers without hats or caps, their hair flying about
their ears, and others with handkerchiefs tied round their
beads. The buffaloes, which had been calmly ruminating
among the herbage, heaved up their huge forms, gazed for
a moment at the tempest that came scouring down the
meadow, then turned and took to heavy, rolling flight.
They were soon overtaken; the promiscuous throng were
pressed together by the contracting sides of the valley,
and away they went, pellmell, hurry-skurry, wild buffalo,
wild horse, wild huntsman, with clang and clatter, and
whoop and halloo, that made the forests ring.
12. At length the buffaloes turned into a green brake,
on the river bank, while the horses dashed up a narrow
defile of the hills, with their pursuers close to their heels.
Beatte passed several of them, having fixed his eye upon a
fine Pawnee horse that had his ears slit and saddle marks
upon his back. He pressed him gallantly, but lost him in
the woods.
13. Among the wild horses was a fine black mare, which
in scrambling up the defile tripped and fell. A young
ranger sprang from his horse and seized her by the mane
and muzzle. Another ranger dismounted and came to his
assistance. The mare struggled fiercely, kicking and bit-
ing, and striking with her fore feet, but a noose was slipped
over her head, and her struggles were in vain.
14. It was some time, however, before she gave over
rearing and plunging, and lashing out with her feet on
FIFTH READER. 257
every side. The two rangers then led her along the valley,
by two strong lariats, which enabled them to keep at a
sufficient distance on each side to be out of the reach of
her hoofs, and whenever she struck out in one direction
she was jerked in the other. In this way her spirit was
gradually subdued.
15. As to Tonish, who had marred the whole scene by
his precipitancy, he had been more successful than he de-
served, having managed to catch a beautiful cream-colored
colt about seven months old, that had not strength to keep
up with its companions. The mercurial little Frenchman
was beside himself with exultation. It was amusing to
see him with his prize. The colt would rear and kick, and
struggle to get free, when Tonish would take him about the
neck, wrestle with him, jump on his back, and cut as many
antics as a monkey with a kitten.
16. Nothing surprised me more, however, than to witness
how soon these poor animals, thus taken from the un-
bounded freedom of the prairie, yielded to the dominion of
man. In the course of two or three days the mare and
colt went with the led horses and became quite docile.
Washington Irving.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Giil'lies, hollows in the earth worn by water.
Di-ver'si-fied, distinguished by numerous aspects, varied. 3. Ru'*
mi-nat-ing, chewing over what has been slightly chewed before.
Herb'age (pro. erb'aj), pasture, grass. 4. Prai'rie, an extensive,
level tract without trees, but covered with tall grass. Wind'ward,
the point from which the wind blows. 5. Lar'i-at, a long cord or
thong of leather, with a noose, for catching wild horses. Bot'tom,
power of endurance. 8. Flank'ing, overlooking or commanding
on the side. 9. Jack-o'-lan'tern, a light seen in low, moist grounds,
which disappears when approached. 9. Cov'ert, a covering place, a
shelter. 10. P&n'ie, sudden fright (usually, causeless fright). 11. Pro-
mis'eu-oiis, mingled, confused. 15. Marred, interrupted) spoiled.
Mer-eu'ri-al, sprightly, full ofjire.
258 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXXI. SOWING AND REAPING.
Adelaide Anne Procter (6. 1825, d. 1864) was the daughter of Bryan
Waller Procter (better known as " Barry Cornwall "), a celebrated English
poet, living in London. Miss Procter's first volume, " Legends and
Lyrics," appeared in 1858, and met with great success ; it was republished
in this country. A second series, under the same name, was published in
1860; and in 1862 both series were republished with additional poems,
and an introduction by Charles Dickens. In 1861 Miss Procter edited
" Victoria Regia," a collection of poetical pieces, to which she contributed ;
and in 1862 "A Chaplet of Verses," composed of her own poems, was
published. Besides these volumes, she contributed largely to various
magazines and periodicals.
1. Sow with a generous hand;
Pause not for toil and pain;
Weary not through the heat of summer,
Weary not through the cold spring rain;
But wait till the autumn comes
For the sheaves of golden grain.
2. Scatter the seed, and fear not,
A table will be spread;
What matter if you are too weary
To eat your hard-earned bread;
Sow, while the earth is broken,
For the hungry must be fed.
3. Sow; while the seeds are lying
In the warm earth's bosom deep,
And your warm tears fall upon it
They will stir in their quiet sleep,
And the green blades rise the quicker,
Perchance, for the tears you weep.
4. Then sow; for the hours are fleeting,
And the seed must fall to-day;
FIFTH READER. 259
And care not what hand shall reap it,
Or if you shall have passed away
Before the waving cornfields
Shall gladden the sunny day.
5. Sow ; and look onward, upward,
Where the starry light appears,
Where, in spite of the coward's doubting,
Or your own heart's trembling fears,
You shall reap in joy the harvest
You have sown to-day in tears.
LXXXII. TAKING COMPORT.
1. FOR the last few days, the fine weather has led me
away from books and papers, and the close air of dwell-
ings, into the open fields, and under the soft, warm sun-
shine, and the softer light of a full moon. The loveliest
season of the whole year that transient but delightful
interval between the storms of the " wild equinox, with all
their wet," and the dark, short, dismal days which precede
the rigor of winter is now with us. The sun rises through
a soft and hazy atmosphere; the light mist clouds melt
gradually before him; and his noontide light rests warm
and clear on still woods, tranquil waters, and grasses green
with the late autumnal rains.
2. One fine morning, not long ago, I strolled down the
Merrimac, on the Tewksbury shore. I know of no walk
in the vicinity of Lowell so inviting as that along the
margin of the river, for nearly a mile from the village of
Belvidere. The path winds, green and flower-skirted, among
beeches and oaks, through whose boughs you catch glimpses
260 ECLECTIC SERIES.
of waters sparkling and dashing below. Bocks, huge and
picturesque, jut out into the stream, affording beautiful
views of the river and the distant city.
3. Half fatigued with my walk, I threw myself down
upon a rocky slope of the bank, where the panorama of
earth, sky, and water lay clear and distinct about me.
Far above, silent and dim as a picture, was the city, with
its huge mill masonry, confused chimney tops, and church
spires; near it rose the height of Belvidere, with its
deserted burial place and neglected gravestones sharply
denned on its bleak, bare summit against the sky ; before
me the river went dashing down its rugged channel, send-
ing up its everlasting murmur; above me the birch tree
hung its tassels; and the last wild flowers of autumn pro-
fusely fringed the rocky rim of the water.
4. Eight opposite, the Dracut woods stretched upwards
from the shore, beautiful with the hues of frost, glowing
with tints richer and deeper than those which Claude or
Poussin mingled, as if the rainbows of a summer shower
had fallen among them. At a little distance to the right,
a group of cattle stood mid-leg deep in the river; and a
troop of children, bright-eyed and mirthful, were casting
pebbles at them from a projecting shelf of rock. Over all
a warm but softened sunshine melted down from a slum-
berous autumnal sky.
5. My reverie was disagreeably broken. A low, grunting
sound, half bestial, half human, attracted my attention. I
was not alone. Close beside me, half hidden by a tuft of
bushes, lay a human being, stretched out at full length,
with his face literally rooted into the gravel. A little boy,
five or six years of age, clean and healthful, with his fair
brown locks and blue eyes, stood on the bank above, gazing
down upon him with an expression of childhood's simple
and unaffected pity.
6. " What ails you ? " asked the boy at length. " What
makes you lie there ? "
FIFTH READER. 261
The prostrate groveler struggled halfway up, exhibiting
the bloated and filthy countenance of a drunkard. He
made two or three efforts to get upon his feet, lost his
balance, and tumbled forward upon Ms face.
" What are you doing there ? " inquired the boy.
" I 'm taking comfort," he muttered, with his mouth in
the dirt.
7. Taking his comfort! There he lay, squalid and
loathsome under the bright heaven, an imbruted man.
The holy harmonies of Nature, the sounds of gushing
waters, the rustle of the leaves above him, the wild flowers,
the frost bloom of the woods, what were they to him ?
Insensible, deaf, and blind, in the stupor of a living death,
he lay there, literally realizing that most bitterly significant
eastern malediction, " May you eat dirt."
Whittier.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Tran'sient (pro. tran'shent), of short duration.
E'qui-nox, the time of year when the days and nights are of equal
length, i.e., about September 23c? or March 21st. Rig'or, severity.
2. Pie-tnr-esque' (pro. pik-tur-esk'), fitted to form a pleasing pic-
ture. 3. Pau-o-ra'ma, a complete or entire view in every direction.
5. ReVer-ie, an irregular train of thoughts occurring in meditation.
Bes'tial (pro. bes'chal), brutish. Lit'er-al-ly, according to the first
and natural meaning of words. 6. Pros'trate, lying at length.
Grov'el-er, a base wretch. Bloat'ed, puffed out. 7. Im-brut'ed,
reduced to brutality. Har'mo-ny, the fitness of parts to each other in
any combination of things. Re'al-iz-ing, making one's own in experi-
ence. Mal-e-die'tion, a curse.
NOTES. The localities named in this selection are in the
vicinity of Haverhill, Mass., where the old Whittier homestead
is situated.
4. Claude Lorrain (b. 1600, d. 1682), whose proper name was
Claude Gelee, was a celebrated landscape painter, born in Cham-
pagne, Vosges, France.
Nicolas Poussin (b. 1594, d. 1665) was a French painter, who
became one of the most remarkable artists of his age. His fame
chiefly arises from his historical and mythological paintings.
262 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXXIII. CALLING THE ROLL.
1. " CORPORAL GREEN!" the orderly cried;
" Here ! " was the answer, loud and clear,
From the lips of a soldier standing near;
And " here ! " was the word the next replied.
" Cyrus Drew ! " and a silence fell ;
This time no answer followed the call;
Only his rear man saw him fall,
Killed or wounded he could not tell.
2. There they stood in the fading light,
These men of battle, with grave, dark looks,
As plain to be read as open books,
While slowly gathered the shades of night.
The fern on the slope was splashed with blood,
And down in the corn, where the poppies grew,
Were redder stains than the poppies knew;
And crimson-dyed was the river's flood.
3. For the foe had crossed from the other side,
That day, in the face of a murderous fire
That swept them down in its terrible ire;
And their lifeblood went to color the tide.
" Herbert Cline ! " At the call there came
Two stalwart soldiers into the line,
Bearing between them Herbert Cline,
Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.
4 "Ezra Kerr!" and a voice said "here!"
" Hiram Kerr ! " but no man replied :
They were brothers, these two ; the sad wind sighed,
And a shudder crept through the cornfield near.
FIFTH READER. 263
" Ephraim Deane ! " then a soldier spoke :
"Deane carried our regiment's colors," he said,
"When our ensign was shot; I left him dead,
Just after the enemy wavered and broke.
5. "Close to the roadside his body lies;
I paused a moment and gave him to drink;
He murmured his mother's name, I think;
And death came with it and closed his eyes."
? T was a victory yes ; but it cost us dear ;
For that company's roll, when called at night,
Of a hundred men who went into the fight,
Numbered but twenty that answered " here ! "
Shepherd.
LXXXIV. TURTLE SOUP.
Charles Frederick Briggs (6. 1804, d. 1877) was born on the island
of Nantucket. When quite young, however, he became a resident of New
York City. In 1845, in conjunction with Edgar A. Poe, he began the
publication of the "Broadway Journal;" he was also connected with
the " New York Times," and the " Evening Mirror; " also as editor from
1853 to 1856 with " Putnam's Magazine." Mr. Briggs wrote a few novels,
some poetry, and numerous little humorous tales and sketches. The
following selection is from "Working a Passage; or, Life on a Liner,"
one of his best stories.
1. AMONG the luxuries which the captain had provided
for himself and passengers was a fine green turtle, which
was not likely to suffer from exposure to salt water, so it
was reserved until all the pigs, and sheep, and poultry had
been eaten. A few days before we arrived, it was deter-
mined to kill the turtle and have a feast the next day.
2. Our cabin gentlemen had been long enough deprived
of fresh meats to make them cast lickerish glances towards
their hard-skinned friend, and there was a great smacking
of lips the day before he was killed. As I walked aft
264
ECLECTIC SERIES.
occasionally, I heard them congratulat-
ing themselves on their prospective tur-
tle soup and forcemeat balls ; and one of
them, to heighten the luxury
of the feast, ate nothing but
a dry biscuit for the twenty-
four hours preceding, that he
might be prepared
to devour his full
share of the unctu-
ous compound.
3. It was to be a gala day with them; and though it
was not champagne day, that falling on Saturday and this
on Friday, they agreed to have champagne a day in ad-
vance, that nothing should be wanting to give a fini sh to
FIFTH READER. 265
their turtle. It happened to be a rougher day than usual
when the turtle was cooked, but they had become too well
used to the motion of the ship to mind that.
4. It happened to be my turn at the wheel the hour be-
fore dinner, and I had the tantalizing misery of hearing
them laughing and talking about their turtle, while I was
hungry from want of dry bread and salt meat. I had res-
olutely kept my thoughts from the cabin during all the
passage but once, and now I found my ideas clustering
round a tureen of turtle in spite of all my philosophy.
5. Confound them, if they had gone out of my hearing
with their exulting smacks, I should not have envied their
soup, but their hungry glee so excited my imagination that
I could see nothing through the glazing of the binnacle
but a white plate with a slice of lemon on the rim, a loaf
of delicate bread, a silver spoon, a napkin, two or three
wine glasses of different hues and shapes, and a water
gobiet clustering round it, and a stream of black, thick,
and fragrant turtle pouring into the plate.
6. By and by it was four bells: they dined at three.
And all the gentlemen, with the captain at their head,
darted below into the cabin, where their mirth increased
when they caught sight of the soup plates. " Hurry with
the soup, steward," roared the captain. "Coming, sir,"
replied the steward. In a few moments the cook opened
the door of his galley, and out came the delicious steam
of the turtle.
7. Then came the steward with a large covered tureen
in his hand, towards the cabin gangway. I forgot the ship
for a moment in looking at this precious cargo, the wheel
slipped from my hands, the ship broached to with a sudden
jerk; the steward had got only one foot upon the stairs,
when this unexpected motion threw him off his balance,
and down he went by the run, the tureen slipped from his
hands, and part of its contents flew into the lee scuppers,
and the balance followed him in his fall.
266 ECLECTIC SERIES.
8. I laughed outright. I enjoyed the turtle a thousand
times more than I should have done if I had eaten the whole
of it. But I was forced to restrain my mirth, for the next
moment the steward ran upon deck, followed by the cap-
tain, in a furious rage, threatening if he caught him to
throw him overboard. Not a spoonful of the soup had
been left in the coppers, for the steward had taken it all
away at once to keep it warm. In about an hour after-
wards the passengers came upon deck, looking more sober
than I had seen them since we left Liverpool. They had
dined upon cold ham.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Re-erved', kept back, retained. 2. Lick'er-
ish, eager or greedy to swallow. Aft, toward the stern of a vessel.
Pro-spec' tive, relating to the future. Fo^e'meat, meat chopped fine
and highly seasoned. Une'tu-oiis, fat. 5. Glaz'ing, glass or glass-
like substance. Bm'na-ele, a box containing the compass of a ship.
6. Gal'ley, the kitchen of a ship. 7. Tu-reen', a large deep vessel
for holding soup. Gang'way, a passageway. Lee, pertaining to
the side opposite that against which the wind blows. Seiip'pers, chan-
nels cut through the side of a ship for carrying off water from the deck.
8. Cop'pers, large copper boilers.
NOTE. 6. Four bells; i.e., two o'clock.
LXXXV. THE BEST KIND OP REVENGE.
1. SOME years ago a warehouseman in Manchester, Eng-
land, published a scurrilous pamphlet, in which he endeav-
ored to hold up the house of Grant Brothers to ridicule.
William Grant remarked upon the occurrence that the man
would live to repent of what he had done; and this was
conveyed by some talebearer to the libeler, who said, " Oh,
I suppose he thinks I shall some time or other be in his
debt; but I will take good care of that." It happens,
FIFTH READER. 267
however, that a man in business can not always choose
who shall be his creditors. The pamphleteer became a
bankrupt, and the brothers held an acceptance of his
which had been indorsed to them by the drawer, who had
also become a bankrupt.
2. The wantonly libeled men had thus become creditors
of the libeler ! They now had it in their power to make
him repent of his audacity. He could not obtain his cer-
tificate without their signature, and without it he could not
enter into business again. He had obtained the number
of signatures required by the bankrupt law except one. It
seemed folly to hope that the firm, of " the brothers " would
supply the deficiency. What ! they who had cruelly been
made the laughingstock of the public, forget the wrong and
favor the wrongdoer ? He despaired. But the claims of a
wife and children forced him at last to make the applica-
tion. Humbled by misery, he presented himself at the
countinghouse of the wronged.
3. Mr. William Grant was there alone, and his first
words to the delinquent were, " Shut the door, sir ! "
sternly uttered. The door was shut, and the libeler stood
trembling before the libeled. He told his tale and pro-
duced his certificate, which was instantly clutched by the
injured merchant. " You wrote a pamphlet against us
once!" exclaimed Mr. Grant. The suppliant expected to
see his parchment thrown into the fire. But this was not
its destination. Mr, Grant took a pen, and writing some-
thing upon the document, handed it back to the bankrupt.
He, poor wretch, expected to see "rogue, scoundrel,
libeler," inscribed ; but there was, in fair round characters,
the signature of the firm.
4. "We make it a rule," said Mr. Grant, "never to re-
fuse signing the certificate of an honest tradesman, and we
have never heard that you were anything else." The
tears started into the poor man's eyes. "Ah," said Mr.
Grant, "my saying was true! I said you would live to
268 ECLECTIC SERIES.
repent writing that pamphlet. I did not mean it as a
threat. I only meant that some day you would know us
better, and be sorry you had tried to injure us. I see you
repent of it now." " I do, I do ! " said the grateful man ;
" I bitterly repent it." " Well, well, my dear fellow, you
know us now. How do you get on ? What are you going
to do ? " The poor man stated he had friends who could
assist him when his certificate was obtained. "But how
are you off in the meantime ? "
5. And the answer was, that, having given up every
farthing to his creditors, he had been compelled to stint
his family of even common necessaries, that he might be
enabled to pay the cost of his certificate. "My dear
fellow, this will not do ; your family must not suffer. Be
kind enough to take this ten-pound note to your wife from
me. There, there, my dear fellow! Nay, do not cry; it
will all be well with you yet. Keep up your spirits, set to
work like a man, and you will raise your head among us
yet." The overpowered man endeavored in vain to express
his thanks ; the swelling in his throat forbade words. He
put his handkerchief to his face and went out of the door,
crying like a child.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ware'house-man (English usage), one who
keeps a wholesale store for woolen goods. Seur'ril-oiis, low, mean.
Li'bel-er, one who defames another maliciously by a writing, etc
2. Au-da9'i-ty, bold impudence. Sig'na-ture, the name of a person
written with his own hand, the name of a Jirm signed officially. De-
fi'cien-cy, want. 3. De-lin'quent, an offender. Parch'ment, sheep
or goat skin prepared for writing upon. 5. Stint, to limit.
NOTE. 1. Acceptance. When a person upon whom a draft has
been made, writes his name across the face of it, the draft then
becomes "an acceptance." The person who makes the draft is
called " the drawer ; " the person to whom the money is ordered
paid writes his name on the back of the draft and is called " an
indorser." Paper of this kind frequently passes from hand to
hand, so that there are several indorsers.
FIFTH READER. 269
LXXXVI. THE SOLDIER OF THE RHINE.
Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton (&. 1808, d. 1877) was the grand-
daughter of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. She wrote verses and plays
at a very early age. " The Sorrows of Rosalie," published in 1829, was
written before she was seventeen years old. In 1827, she was married
to the Hon. George Chappie Norton. The marriage was an unhappy
one, and they were divorced in 1836. Her principal works are "The
Undying One," "The Dream, and Other Poems," "The Child of the
Islands," "Stuart of Dunleith, a Romance," and "English Laws for
English Women of the 19th Century." She contributed extensively to
the magazines and other periodicals.
1. A SOLDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of
woman's tears ;
But a comrade stood beside him, while his lifeblood ebbed
away,
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say.
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand,
And he said : " I nevermore shall see my own, my native land ;
Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine,
For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine.
2. " Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd
around
To hear my mournful story in the pleasant vineyard ground,
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done,
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun ;
And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars,
The death wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many
scars ;
But some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn de-
cline,
And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
3. " Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age,
For I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage.
For my father was a soldier, and, even when a child,
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and
wild;
270 ECLECTIC SERIES.
And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,
I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's
sword ;
And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used
to shine,
On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine.
4. "Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping
head,
When the troops come marching home again, with glad and
gallant tread,
But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die ;
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name
To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame,
And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword
and mine),
For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine.
5. " There 's another, not a sister ; in the happy days gone by,
You 'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her
eye;
Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,
friend ! I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest
mourning !
Tell her the last night of my life (for, ere the moon be risen,
My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison),
1 dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
6. "I saw the blue Rhine sweep along : I heard, or seemed to hear,
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear;
And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill,
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and
still;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with
friendly talk,
Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered
walk;
FIFTH BEADER. 271
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine,
But we '11 meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the
Rhine."
7. His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse; his grasp was
childish weak,
His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed and ceased to speak.
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled,
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead !
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battlefield, with bloody corses strewn ;
Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene, her pale light seemed to
shine,
As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Le'gion (pro. le'jun), division of an army.
Dearth (pro. derth), scarcity. Ebbed, flowed out. 2. Corse, a
dead body. 4. Stead'fast, Jirm, resolute. 5. Co-quet'ry, trifling in
love. 6. ChO'rus, music in which all join. Yore, old times.
NOTE. 1. Bingen is pronounced Bing / en, not Bin/gen, nor
Bln'jen.
LXXXVII. THE WINGED WORSHIPERS.
Charles Sprague (6. 1791, d. 1875) was born in Boston, Mass. He
engaged in mercantile business when quite young, leaving school for
that purpose. In 1825, he was elected cashier of the Globe Bank of Bos-
ton, which position he held until 1864. Mr. Sprague has not been a
prolific writer; but his poems, though few in number, are deservedly
classed among the best productions of American poets. His chief poem
is entitled "Curiosity."
1. GAY, guiltless pair,
What seek ye from the fields of heaven?
Ye have no need of prayer,
Ye have no sins to be forgiven.
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2. Why perch ye here,
Where mortals to their Maker bend ?
Can your pure spirits fear
The God ye never could offend?
3. Ye never knew
The crimes for which we come to weep;
Penance is not for you,
Blessed wanderers of the upper deep.
4. To you 'tis given
To wake sweet Nature's untaught lays;
Beneath the arch of heaven
To chirp away a life of praise.
5. Then spread each wing,
Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands,
And join the choirs that sing
In yon blue dome not reared with hands,
6. Or, if ye stay
To note the consecrated hour,
Teach me the airy way,
And let me try your envied power.
7. Above the crowd,
On upward wings could I but fly,
I'd bathe in yon bright cloud,
And seek the stars that gem the sky.
8. 'Twere Heaven indeed,
Through fields of trackless light to soar,
On Nature's charms to feed,
And Nature's own great God adore.
FIFTH READER. 273
DEFINITIONS. 2. Perch, to light or settle on anything. 3. Pen'-
an9e, suffering for sin. 4. Lays, songs. 5. Choir (pro. kwlr), a col-
lection of singers. Dome, an arched structure above a roof; hence,
figuratively, the heavens. 6. C6n'se-erat-ed, set apart for the service
of God. 8. Track'less, having no path.
NOTE. This little poem was addressed to two swallows that
flew into church during service.
LXXXVIII. THE PEEVISH WIPE.
Maria Edge worth (6. 1767, d. 1849) was born near Reading, Berkshire,
England. In 1782 her father removed with his family to Edgeworthtown,
Ireland, to reside on his estate. She lived here during the remainder of
her life, with the exception of occasional short visits to England, Scot-
land, and France. She was educated principally by her father, and they
were colaborers in literary productions, among which were " Essays on
Practical Education," and the " Parent's Assistant." Her novels and
tales were written without assistance, and her fame as a writer rests on
them. The best known of these are " Castle Rackrent," " Moral Tales,"
"Tales of Fashionable Life," "Frank," "The Modern Griselda," and
" Helen.'' Miss Edgeworth excels in the truthful delineation of char-
acter, and her works are full of practical good sense and genuine humor.
Mrs. Bolingbroke. I WISH I knew what was the matter
with me this morning. Why do you keep the newspaper
all to yourself, my dear ?
Mr. Bolingbroke. Here it is for you, my dear; I have
finished it.
Mrs. B. I humbly thank you for giving it to me when
you have done with it. I hate stale news. Is there any-
thing in the paper? for I can not be at the trouble of
hunting it.
Mr. B. Yes, my dear ; there are the marriages of two of
our friends.
Mrs. B. Who ? Who ?
Mr. B. Your friend, the widow Nettleby, to her cousin
John Kettleby.
(5. 18.)
274 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Mrs. B. Mrs. Nettleby ? Dear ! But why did you tell
me r
Mr. B. Because you asked me, my dear.
Mrs. B. Oh, but it is a hundred times pleasanter to
read the paragraph one's self. One loses all the pleasure
of the surprise by being told. Well, whose was the other
marriage ?
Mr. B. Oh, my dear, I will not tell you; I will leave
you the pleasure of the surprise.
Mrs. B. But you see I can not find it. How provoking
you are, my dear ! Do pray tell me.
Mr. B. Our friend Mr. Granby.
Mrs. B. Mr. Granby ? Dear ! Why did you not make
me guess ? I should have guessed him directly. But why
do you call him our friend? I am sure he is no friend
of mine, nor ever was. I took an aversion to him, as you
remember, the very first day I saw him. I am sure he is
no friend of mine.
Mr. B. I am sorry for it, my dear ; but I hope you will
go and see Mrs. Granby.
Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, my dear. Who was she ?
Mr. B. Miss Cooke.
Mrs. B. Cooke ? But there are so many Cookes. Can't
you distinguish her any way ? Has she no Christian
name?
Mr. B. Emma, I think. Yes, Emma.
Mrs. B. Emma Cooke ? No ; it can not be my friend
Emma Cooke; for I am sure she was cut out for an old
maid.
Mr. B. This lady seems to me to be cut out for a good
wife.
Mrs. B. Maybe so. I am sure I '11 never go to see
her. Pray, my dear, how came you to see so much of
her?
Mr. B. I have seen very little of her, my dear. I
only saw her two or three times before she was married.
FIFTH READER. 275
Mrs. B. Then, my dear, how could you decide that she
was cut out for a good wife? I am sure you could not
judge of her by seeing her only two or three times, and
before she was married.
Mr. B. Indeed, my love, that is a very just observa-
tion.
Mrs. B. I understand that compliment perfectly, and
thank you for it, my dear. I must own I can bear any-
thing better than irony.
Mr. B. Irony ? my dear, I was perfectly in earnest.
Mrs. B. Yes, yes; in earnest; so I perceive; I may
naturally be dull of apprehension, but my feelings are
quick enough ; I comprehend too well. Yes, it is impossi-
ble to judge of a woman before marriage, or to guess what
sort of a wife she will make. I presume you speak from
experience; you have been disappointed yourself, and re-
pent your choice.
Mr. B. My dear, what did I say that was like this?
Upon my word, I meant no such thing. I really was not
thinking of you in the least.
Mrs. B. No, you never think of me now. I can easily
believe that you were not thinking of me in the least.
Mr. B. But I said that only to prove to you that I
could not be thinking ill of you, my dear.
Mrs. B. But I would rather that you thought ill of me
than that you should not think of me at all.
Mr. B. Well, my dear, I will even think ill of you if
that will please you.
Mrs. B. Do you laugh at me ? When it comes to this
I am wretched indeed. Never man laughed at the woman
he loved. As long as you had the slightest remains of
love for me you could not make me an object of derision;
ridicule and love are incompatible, absolutely incompatible.
Well, I have done my best, my very best, to make you
happy, but in vain. I see I am not cut out to be a good
wife. Happy, happy Mrs. Granby !
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Mr. B. Happy, I hope sincerely, that she will be with
my friend; but my happiness must depend on you, my
love ; so, for my sake, if not for your own, be composed,
and do not torment yourself with such fancies.
Mrs. B. I do wonder whether this Mrs. Granby is
really that Miss Emma Cooke. I'll go and see her di-
rectly ; see her I must.
Mr. B. I am heartily glad of it, my dear; for I am
sure a visit to his wife will give my friend Granby real
pleasure.
Mrs. B. I promise you, my dear, I do not go to give
him pleasure, or you either, but to satisfy my own curi-
osity.
DEFINITIONS. Fron-y, language intended to convey a meaning
contrary to its literal signification. De-ri'sion, the act of laughing
at in contempt. In-eom-pat'i-ble, that can not exist together.
LXXXIX. THE RAINY DAY.
1. THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall.
And the day is dark and dreary.
2. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary ;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
FIFTH READER. 277
3. Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary,
Longfellow.
XC. BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.
Alfred Tennyson (6. 1809, d. 1892) was born in Somersby, Lincolnshire,
England. He graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge. His first volume
of poems was published in 1830, but it made little impression and was
severely criticised. On the publication of his third series in 1842, his poetic
genius began to receive general recognition. Mr. Tennyson was made
poet laureate in 1850, and was regarded as the foremost living poet of
England. For several years his residence was on the Isle of Wight. In
1884, he was raised to the peerage.
1. BREAK, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.
2. Oh, well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
Oh, well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
3. And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But oh for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still !
4. Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, sea !
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
278 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XCI. TRANSPORTATION AND PLANTING OF SEEDS.
Henry David Thoreau (6. 1817, d. 1862). This eccentric American
author and naturalist was born at Concord, Mass. He graduated at Har-
vard University in 1837. He was a good English and classical scholar,
and was well acquainted with the literature of the East. His father was
a maker of lead pencils, and he followed the business for a time, but after-
wards supported himself mainly by teaching, lecturing, land surveying,
and carpentering. In 1845 he built himself a small wooden house near
Concord, on the shore of Walden Pond, where he lived about two years.
He was intimate with Hawthorne, Emerson, and other literary celebri-
ties. His principal works are " Walden, or Life in the Woods," " A Week
on Concord and Merrimac Rivers," "Excursions," "Maine Woods,"
" Cape Cod," " A Yankee in Canada," and " Letters to Various Persons."
In descriptive power Mr. Thoreau has few, if any, superiors.
1. IN all the pines a very thin membrane, in appearance
much like an insect's wing, grows over and around the
seed, and independent of it, while the latter is being de-
veloped within its base. In other words, a beautiful thin
sack is woven around the seed, with a handle to it such as
the wind can take hold of, and it is then committed to the
wind, expressly that it may transport the seed and extend
the range of the species; and this it does as effectually
as when seeds are sent by mail, in a different kind of sack,
from the patent office.
2. There is, then, no necessity for supposing that the
pines have sprung up from nothing, and I am aware that
I am not at all peculiar in asserting that they come from
seeds, though the mode of their propagation by Nature has
been but little attended to. They are very extensively
raised from the seed in Europe, and are beginning to be
here.
3. When you cut down an oak wood, a pine wood will
not at once spring up there unless there are, or have been
quite recently, seed-bearing pines near enough for the seeds
to be blown from them. But, adjacent to a forest of pines,
if you prevent other crops from growing there, you will
FIFTH READER. 279
surely have an extension of your pine forest, provided the
soil is suitable.
4. As I walk amid hickories, even in August, I hear the
sound of green pignuts falling from time to time, cut off
by the chickaree over my head. In the fall I notice on
the ground, either within or in the neighborhood of oak
woods, on all sides of the town, stout oak twigs three or
four inches long, bearing half a dozen empty acorn cups,
which twigs have been gnawed off by squirrels, on both
sides of the nuts, in order to make them more portable.
The jays scream and the red squirrels scold while you are
clubbing and shaking the chestnut trees, for they are there
on the same errand, and two of a trade never agree.
5. I frequently see a red or a gray squirrel cast down a
green chestnut burr, as I am going through the woods,
and I used to think, sometimes, that they were cast at me.
In fact, they are so busy about it, in the midst of the
chestnut season, that you can not stand long in the woods
without hearing one fall.
6. A sportsman told me that he had, the day before
that was in the middle of October seen a green chestnut
burr dropped on our great river meadow, fifty rods from the
nearest wood, and much farther from the nearest chestnut
tree, and he could not tell how it came there. Occasion-
ally, when chestnutting in midwinter, I find thirty or forty
nuts in a pile, left in its gallery just under the leaves, by
the common wood mouse.
7. But especially, in the winter, the extent to which
this transportation and planting of nuts is carried on, is
made apparent by the snow. In almost every wood you
will see where the red or gray squirrels have pawed down
through the snow in a hundred places, sometimes two feet
deep, and almost always directly to a nut or a pine cone,
as directly as if they had started from it and bored upward,
which you and I could not have done. It would be diffi-
cult for us to find one before the snow falls. Commonly,
280 ECLECTIC SERIES.
no doubt, they had deposited them there in the fall. You
wonder if they remember the localities or discover them by
the scent.
8. The red squirrel commonly has its winter abode in
the earth under a thicket of evergreens, frequently under a
small clump of evergreens in the midst of a deciduous
wood. If there are any nut trees, which still retain their
nuts, standing at a distance without the wood, their paths
often lead directly to and from them. We, therefore, need
not suppose an oak standing here and there in the wood in
order to seed it, but if a few stand within twenty or thirty
rods of it, it is sufficient.
9. I think that I may venture to say that every white-
pine cone that falls to the earth naturally in this town,
before opening and losing its seeds, and almost every pitch-
pine one that falls at all, is cut off by a squirrel ; and they
begin to pluck them long before they are ripe, so that
when the crop of white-pine cones is a small one, as it
commonly is, they cut off thus almost everyone of these
before it fairly ripens.
10. I think, moreover, that their design, if I may so
speak, in cutting them off green, is partly to prevent their
opening and losing their seeds, for these are the ones for
which they dig through the snow, and the only white-pine
cones which contain anything then. I have counted in
one heap the cores of two hundred and thirty-nine pitch-
pine cones which had been cut off and stripped by the red
squirrel the previous winter.
11. The nuts thus left on the surface, or buried just be-
neath it, are placed in the most favorable circumstances for
germinating. I have sometimes wondered how those which
merely fell on the surface of the earth got planted ; but,
by the end of December, I find the chestnut of the same
year partially mixed with the mold, as it were, under the
decaying and moldy leaves, where there is all the mois-
ture and manure they want, for the nuts fall fast. In a
FIFTH READER. 281
plentiful year a large proportion of the nuts are thus cov-
ered loosely an inch deep, and are, of course, somewhat
concealed from squirrels.
12. One winter, when the crop had been abundant, I
got, with the aid of a rake, many quarts of these nuts as
late as the tenth of January ; and though some bought at
the store the same day were more than half of them
moldy, I did not find a single moldy one among those
which I picked from under the wet and moldy leaves,
where they had been snowed on once or twice. Nature
knew how to pack them best. They were still plump and
tender. Apparently they do not heat there, though wet.
In the spring they are all sprouting.
13. Occasionally, when threading the woods in the fall,
you will hear a sound as if some one had broken a twig,
and, looking up, see a jay pecking at an acorn, or you will
see a flock of them at once about it, in the top of an oak,
and hear them break it off. They then fly to a suitable
limb, and placing the acorn under one foot, hammer away
at it busily, making a sound like a woodpecker's tapping,
looking round from time to time to see if any foe is ap-
proaching, and soon reach the meat, and nibble at it, hold-
ing up their heads to swallow while they hold the remain-
der very firmly with their claws. Nevertheless, it often
drops to the ground before the bird has done with it.
14. I can confirm what William Barton wrote to Wilson,
the ornithologist, that " The jay is one of the most useful
agents in the economy of nature for disseminating forest
trees and other nuciferous and hard-seeded vegetables on
which they feed. In performing this necessary duty they
drop abundance of seed in their flight over fields, hedges,
and by fences, where they alight to deposit them in the
post holes, etc. It is remarkable what numbers of young
trees rise up in fields and pastures after a wet winter and
spring. These birds alone are capable in a few years' time
to replant all the cleared lands."
282 ECLECTIC SERIES.
15. I have noticed that squirrels also frequently drop
nuts in open land, which will still further account for the
oaks and walnuts which spring up in pastures ; for, depend
on it, every new tree comes from a seed. When I examine
the little oaks, one or two years old, in such places, I in-
variably find the empty acorn from which they sprung.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Mem'brane, a thin, soft tissue of interwoven
fibers. 2. Pr6p-a-ga'tion, the continuance of a kind by successive
production. 4. Port'a-ble, capable of being carried. 7. Trans-
por-ta'tion, the act of conveying from one place to another. 8. De-
cid'u-ous, said of trees whose leaves fall in autumn. 11. Ger'mi-
nat-ing, sprouting, beginning to grow. 14. Or-ni-thol'o-gist, one
skilled in the science which treats of birds. E-eon'o-my, orderly
system. Dis-sern'i-nat-ing, scattering for growth and propagation.
Nu-9if'er-ous, bearing nuts.
XCII. SPRING AGAIN.
Celia Tbaxter (6. 1836, d. 1894) , whose maiden name was Laighton, was
born in Portsmouth, N.H. Much of her early life was passed on White
Island, one of a group of small islands, called the Isles of Shoals, about
ten miles from the shore, where she lived in the lighthouse cottage. In
1867-68, she published, in the "Atlantic Monthly," a number of papers
on these islands, which were afterwards bound in a separate volume.
Mrs. Thaxter was a contributor to several periodicals, and in strength and
beauty of style has few equals among American writers. The following
selection is from a volume of her poems entitled " Drift Weed."
1. I STOOD on the height in the stillness
And the planet's outline scanned,
And half was drawn with the line of sea
And half with the far blue land.
2. With wings that caught the sunshine
In the crystal deeps of the sky,
Like shapes of dreams, the gleaming gulls
Went slowly floating by.
FIFTH READER. 283
3. Below me the boats in the harbor
Lay still, with their white sails furled;
Sighing away into silence,
The breeze died off the world.
4. On the weather-worn, ancient ledges
Peaceful the calm light slept;
And the chilly shadows, lengthening,
Slow to the eastward crept.
5. The snow still lay in the hollows,
And where the salt waves met
The iron rock, all ghastly white
The thick ice glimmered yet.
6. But the smile of the sun was kinder,
The touch of the air was sweet;
The pulse of the cruel ocean seemed
Like a human heart to beat.
7. Frost-locked, storm-beaten, and lonely,
In the midst of the wintry main,
Our bleak rock yet the tidings heard:
"There shall be spring again!"
8. Worth all the waiting and watching,
The woe that the winter wrought,
Was the passion of gratitude that shook
My soul at the blissful thought!
9. Soft rain and flowers and sunshine,
Sweet winds and brooding skies,
Quick-flitting birds to fill the air
With clear delicious cries;
284 ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. And the warm sea's mellow murmur
Resounding day and night;
A thousand shapes and tints and tones
Of manifold delight,
11. Nearer and ever nearer
Drawing with every day!
But a little longer to wait and watch
'Neath skies so cold and gray;
12. And hushed is the roar of the bitter north
Before the might of the spring,
And up the frozen slope of the world
Climbs summer, triumphing.
XCIII. RELIGION THE ONLY BASIS OP SOCIETY.
William Ellery Charming (6. 1780, d. 1842), an eminent divine and
orator, was born at Newport, R.I. He graduated from Harvard with the
highest honors in 1798, and, in 1803, he was made pastor of the Federal
Street Church, Boston, with which he maintained his connection until
his death. Towards the close of his life, being much enfeebled, he with-
drew almost entirely from his pastoral duties, and devoted himself to
literature. Dr. Channing's writings are published in six volumes, and
are mainly devoted to theology.
1. RELIGION is a social concern; for it operates power-
fully on society, contributing in various ways to its stability
and prosperity. Religion is not merely a private affair;
the community is deeply interested in its diffusion ; for it is
the best support of the virtues and principles, on which the
social order rests. Pure and undefiled religion is to do
good; and it follows, very plainly, that if God be the
Author and Friend of society, then, the recognition of him
must enforce all social duty, and enlightened piety must
give its whole strength to public order.
FIFTH READER. 5285
2. Few men suspect, perhaps no man comprehends, the
extent of the support given by religion to every virtue.
No man, perhaps, is aware how much our moral and
social sentiments are fed from this fountain ; how powerless
conscience would become without the belief of a God ; how
palsied would be human benevolence, were there not the
sense of a higher benevolence to quicken and sustain it;
how suddenly the whole social fabric would quake, and
with what a fearful crash it would sink into hopeless ruin,
were the ideas of a Supreme Being, of accountableness and
of a future life to be utterly erased from every mind.
3. And, let men thoroughly believe that they are the
work and sport of chance; that no superior intelligence
concerns itself with human affairs ; that all their improve-
ments perish forever at death; that the weak have no
guardian, and the injured no avenger; that there is no
recompense for sacrifices to uprightness and the public
good; that an oath is unheard in heaven; that secret
crimes have no witness but the perpetrator; that human
existence has no purpose, and human virtue no unfailing
friend; that this brief life is everything to us, and death
is total, everlasting extinction; once let them thoroughly
abandon religion, and who can conceive or describe the
extent of the desolation which would follow?
4. We hope, perhaps, that human laws and natural
sympathy would hold society together. As reasonably
might we believe that were the sun quenched in the
heavens, our torches would illuminate, and our fires quicken
and fertilize the creation. What is there in human nature
to awaken respect and tenderness, if man is the unpro-
tected insect of a day ? And what is he more, if atheism
be true?
5. Erase all thought and fear of God from a commu-
nity, and selfishness and sensuality would absorb the whole
man. Appetite, knowing no restraint, and suffering, having
no solace or hope, would trample in scorn on the restraints
288 ECLECTIC SERIES.
of human laws. Virtue, duty, principle, would be mocked
and spurned as unmeaning sounds. A sordid self-interest
would supplant every feeling ; and man would become, in
fact, what the theory in atheism declares him to be, a
companion for brutes.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Com-mu'ni-ty, society at large, the public.
Dif-fu'sion, extension, spread. En-light'ened, elevated by knowledge
and religion. 2. Fab'rie, any system composed of connected parts.
E-rased', blotted out. 3. Per'pe-tra-tor, one who commits a crime.
Ex-tine'tion, a putting an end to. 4. Fer'ti-llze, to make fruitful.
A'the-im, disbelief in God. Sen-su-al'i-ty, indulgence in animal
pleasure.
XCIV. ROCK ME TO SLEEP.
Elizabeth Akers Allen (&. 1832, ) was born at Strong, Maine,
and passed her childhood amidst the picturesque scenery of that neigh-
borhood. She lost her mother when very young, but inherited her grace
and delicacy of thought. Shortly after her mother's death, her father
removed to Farmington, Maine, a town noted for its literary people.
Mrs. Allen's early pieces appeared over the pseudonym of " Florence
Percy." Her first verses appeared when she was twelve years old;
and her first volume, entitled " Forest Buds from the Woods of Maine,"
was published in 1856. For some years she was assistant editor of the
"Portland Transcript." The following selection was claimed by five dif*
ferent persons, who attempted to steal the honor of its composition.
1. BACKWARD, turn backward, Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again, just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
FIFTH READER. 287
2. Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears;
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain;
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay,
Weary of flinging my soul wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
3. Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between:
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep !
4 Over my heart in the days that are flown,
No love like mother love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures,
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul, and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
5. Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again, as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more,
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
288 ECLECTIC SERIES.
6. Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since 1 last listened your lullaby song;
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream;
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;
Rock me to sleep, mother, rock me to sleep!
XCV. MAN AND THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
1. THE chief difference between man and the other ani-
mals consists in this, that the former has reason, whereas
the latter have only instinct; but, in order to understand
what we mean by the terms reason and instinct, it will be
necessary to mention three things in which the difference
very distinctly appears.
2. Let us first, to bring the parties as nearly on a level
as possible, consider man in a savage state, wholly occu-
pied, like the beasts of the field, in providing for the wants
of his animal nature; and here the first distinction that
appears between them is the use of implements. When
the savage provides himself with a hut or a wigwam for
shelter, or that he may store up his provisions, he does no
more than is done by the rabbit, the beaver, the bee, and
birds of every species.
3. But the man can not make any progress in this work
without tools; he must provide himself with an ax even
before he can cut down a tree for its timber; whereas
these animals form their burrows, their cells, or their nests,
with no other tools than those with which nature has pro-
vided them. In cultivating the ground, also, man can do
nothing without a spade or a plow; nor can he reap what
he has sown till he has shaped an implement with which to
FIFTH READER. 289
cut down his harvest. But the inferior animals provide for
themselves and their young without any of these things.
4. Now for the second distinction. Man, in all his oper-
ations, makes mistakes ; animals make none. Did you ever
hear of such a thing as a bird sitting on a twig lament-
ing over her half-finished nest and puzzling her little
head to know how to complete it? Or did you ever see
the cells of a beehive in clumsy, irregular shapes, or ob-
serve anything like a discussion in the little community,
as if there were a difference of opinion among the archi-
tects ?
5. The lower animals are even better physicians than we
are ; for when they are ill, they will, many of them, seek
out some particular herb, which they do not use as food,
and which possesses a medicinal quality exactly suited to
the complaint; whereas, the whole college of physicians
will dispute for a century about the virtues of a single
drug.
6. Man undertakes nothing in which he is not more or
less puzzled ; and must try numberless experiments before
he can bring his undertakings to anything like perfection ;
even the simplest operations of domestic life are not well
performed without some experience ; and the term of man's
life is half wasted before he has done with his mistakes
and begins to profit by his lessons.
7. The third distinction is that animals make no im-
provements; while the knowledge, and skill, and the suc-
cess of man are perpetually on the increase. Animals, in
all their operations, follow the first impulse of nature or
that instinct which God has implanted in them. In all
they do undertake, therefore, their works are more perfect
and regular than those of man.
8. But man, having been endowed with the faculty of
thinking or reasoning about what he does, is enabled by
patience and industry to correct the mistakes into which he
at first falls, and to go on constantly improving. A bird'*
(6. 19.)
290 ECLECTIC SERIES.
nest is, indeed, a perfect structure ; yet the nest of a swal-
low of the nineteenth century is not at all more commodi-
ous or elegant than those that were built amid the rafters
of Noah's ark. But if we compare the wigwam of the
savage with the temples and palaces of ancient Greece and
Rome, we then shall see to what man's mistakes, rectified
and improved upon, conduct him.
9. " When the vast sun shall veil his golden light
Deep in the gloom of everlasting night ;
When wild, destructive flames shall wrap the skies,
When ruin triumphs, and when nature dies;
Man shall alone the wreck of worlds survive ;
'Mid falling spheres, immortal man shall live."
Jane Taylor.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Dis-tine'tion, a point of difference. Im'ple-
ments, utensils, tools. Wig'wam, an Indian hut. 3. Bur'rows,
holes in the earth where animals lodge. 4. Dis-iis'sion, the act of
arguing a point, debate. 5. Me-di9'i-nal, healing. 8. En-do wed',
furnished with any gift, quality, etc. Fae'ul-ty, ability to act or
perform. Ree'ti-fled, corrected.
XCVI. THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT.
John Godfrey Saxe (6. 1816, d. 1887), an American humorist, lawyer,
and journalist, was born at Highgate, Vt. He graduated at Middlebury
College in 1839; was admitted to the bar in 1843; and practiced law
until 1850, when he became editor of the " Burlington Sentinel." In 1851,
he was elected State's attorney. " Progress, a Satire, and Other Poems,"
his first volume, was published in 1849, and several other volumes of
great merit attest his originality. For genial humor and good-natured
satire, Saxe's writings rank among the best of their kind, and are very
popular.
1. IT was six men of Indostan,
To learning much inclined,
"Who went to see the elephant,
(Though all of them were blind,)
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.
FIFTH READER. 291
2. The first approached the elephant,
And, happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the elephant
Is very like a wall ! "
3. The second, feeling of the tusk,
Cried: "Ho! what have we here,
So very round, and smooth, and sharp?
To me 'tis very clear,
This wonder of an elephant
Is very like a spear!"
4. The third approached the animal,
And, happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up he spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant
Is very like a snake ! "
5. The fourth reached out his eager hand,
And fell about the knee :
"What most this wondrous beast is like,
Is very plain," quoth he;
"'Tis clear enough the elephant
Is very like a tree!"
6. The fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most:
Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an elephant
Is very like a fan!"
292 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7. The sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant
Is very like a rope!"
8. And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!
XCVII. A HOME SCENE.
Donald Grant Mitchell (6. 1822, ). This popular American
writer was born in Norwich, Conn. He graduated at Yale in 1841. In
1844 he went to England, and, after traveling through that country on
foot, spent some time on the continent. His first volume, " Fresh Glean-
ings, or a New Sheaf from the Old Fields of Continental Europe, by
Ik Marvel," was published in 1847, soon after his return home. He
revisited Europe in 1848. On his return, he published "The Battle
Summer." Mr. Mitchell has contributed to the " Knickerbocker Maga-
zine," the "Atlantic Monthly," and several agricultural journals. His
most popular works are " The Reveries of a Bachelor," 1850, and " Dream
Life," 1851. Besides these, he has written "My Farm of Edgewood,"
"Wet Days at Edgewood," "Doctor Johns," a novel, "Rural Studies,"
and other works. He is a charming writer. In 1853 he was appointed
United States consul at Venice. In 1855 he settled on a farm near New
Haven, Conn., where he now resides. The following selection is from
" Dream Life."
1. LITTLE does the boy know, as the tide of years drifts
by, floating him out insensibly from the harbor of his home,
upon the great sea of life, what joys, what opportunities,
what affections, are slipping from him into the shades of
that inexorable Past, where no man can go, save on the
wings of his dreams.
FIFTH READER. 293
2. Little does he think, as he leans upon the lap of his
mother, with his eye turned to her, in some earnest plead-
ing for a fancied pleasure of the hour, or in some important
story of his griefs, that such sharing of his sorrows, and such
sympathy with his wishes, he will find nowhere again.
3. Little does he imagine that the fond sister Nelly, ever
thoughtful of his pleasures, ever smiling away his griefs,
will soon be beyond the reach of either ; and that the waves
of the years which come rocking so gently under him will
soon toss her far away, upon the great swell of life.
4. But now, you are there. The fire light glimmers upon
the walls of your cherished home. The big chair of your
father is drawn to its wonted corner by the chimney side ;
his head, just touched with gray, lies back upon its oaken
top. Opposite sits your mother: her figure is thin, her
look cheerful, yet subdued ; her arm perhaps resting
on your shoulder, as she talks to you in tones of tender
admonition, of the days that are to come.
5. The cat is purring on the hearth; the clock that
ticked so plainly when Charlie died is ticking on the mantel
still. The great table in the middle of the room, with its
books and work, waits only for the lighting of the evening
lamp, to see a return to its stores of embroidery and of
story.
6. Upon a little stand under the mirror, which catches
now and then a flicker of the fire light, and makes it play,
as if in wanton, upon the ceiling, lies that big book, rever-
enced of your New England parents the Family Bible.
It is a ponderous, square volume, with "heavy silver clasps,
that you have often pressed open for a look at its quaint,
old pictures, for a study of those prettily bordered pages,
which lie between the Testaments, and which hold the
Family Eecord.
7. There are the Births; your father's and your
mother's ; it seems as if they were born a long time ago ; and
even your own date of birth appears an almost incredible dis-
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tance back. Then, there are the Marriages ; only one as
yet ; and your mother's name looks oddly to you : it is hard
to think of her as anyone else than your doting parent.
8. Last of all come the Deaths ; only one. Poor Charlie !
How it looks ! " Died, 12 September, 18, Charles Henry,
aged four years." You know just how it looks. You nave
turned to it often; there you seem to be joined to him,
though only by the turning of a leaf.
9. And over your thoughts, as you look at that page of
the Record, there sometimes wanders a vague, shadowy fear,
which will come, that your own name may soon be there.
You try to drop the notion, as if it were not fairly your
own ; you affect to slight it, as you would slight a boy who
presumed on your acquaintance, but whom you have no
desire to know.
10. Yet your mother how strange it is ! has no fears
of such dark fancies. Even now, as you stand beside her,
and as the twilight deepens in the room, her low, silvery
voice is stealing upon your ear, telling you that she can
not be long with you; that the time is coming, when you
must be guided by your own judgment, and struggle with
the world unaided by the friends of your boyhood.
11. There is a little pride, and a great deal more of
anxiety, in your thoughts now, as you look steadfastly into
the home blaze, while those delicate fingers, so tender of your
happiness, play with the locks upon your brow. To struggle
with the world, that is a proud thing; to struggle alone,
there lies the doubt! Then crowds in swift upon the
<salm of boyhood the first anxious thought of youth.
12. The hands of the old clock upon the mantel that
ticked off the hours when Charlie sighed and when Charlie
died, draw on toward midnight. The shadows that the
fireflame makes grow dimmer and dimmer. And thus it
is, that Home, boy home, passes away forever, like the
swaying of a pendulum, like the fading of a shadow on
the floor.
FIFTH READER. 295
DEFINITIONS. 1. In-ex'or-a-ble, not to be changed. 4. Wont'ed,
accustomed. Ad-mo-nf tion (pro. ad-monish'un), counseling against
fault or error. 6. Pon'der-ous, very heavy. Quaint (pro. kwant),
odd and antique. 7. In-ered'i-ble, impossible to be believed. Dot'-
ing, loving to excess. 9. Vague (pro. vag), indefinite. Pre-sumed',
pushed upon or intruded in an impudent manner.
XCVIII. THE LIGHT OP OTHER DAYS.
Thomas Moore (6. 1779, d. 1852) was born in Dublin, Ireland, and
he was educated at Trinity College in that city. In 1799, he entered the
Middle Temple, London, as a student of law. Soon after the publica-
tion of his first poetical productions, he was sent to Bermuda in an
official capacity. He subsequently visited the United States. Moore's
most famous works are: "Lalla Rookh," an Oriental romance, 1817;
"The Loves of the Angels," 1823; and "Irish Melodies," 1834; a "Life
of Lord Byron," and "The Epicurean, an Eastern Tale." " Moore's ex-
cellencies," says Dr. Angus, "consist in the gracefulness of his thoughts,
the wit and fancy of his allusions and imagery, and the music and refine-
ment of his versification."
1. OFT in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me:
The smiles, the tears
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
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2. When I remember all
The friends so linked together
I've seen around me fall
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed.
Thus in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
XCIX. A CHASE IN THE ENGLISH CHANNEL.
James Fenimore Cooper (6. 1789, d. 1851). This celebrated Amer-
ican novelist was born in Burlington, N.J. His father removed to the
state of New York about 1790, and founded Cooperstown, on Otsego Lake.
He studied three years at Yale, and then entered the navy as a com-
mon sailor. He became a midshipman in 1806, and was afterwards
promoted to the rank of lieutenant; but he left the service in 1811.
His first novel, "Precaution," was published in 1819; his best work,
"The Spy," a tale of the Revolutionary War, in 1821. The success of
"The Spy" was almost unprecedented, and its author at once took
rank among the most popular writers of the day. "The Pilot" and
"The Red Rover" are considered his best sea novels. " The Pioneers,"
"The Last of the Mohicans," "The Prairie," "The Pathfinder," and
"The Deerslayer " are among the best of his tales of frontier life. The
best of his novels have been translated into nearly all of the European
languages, and into some of those of Asia. " The creations of his
genius," says Bryant, "shall survive through centuries to come, and
only perish with our language." The following selection is from " The
Pilot."
1. THE ship which the American frigate had now to
oppose, was a vessel of near her own size and equipage;
and when Griffith looked at her again, he perceived that
FIFTH READER. 297
she had made her preparations to assert her equality in
manful fight.
2. Her sails had been gradually reduced to the usual
quantity, and, by certain movements on her decks, the
lieutenant and his constant attendant, the Pilot, well un-
derstood that she only wanted to lessen the distance a few-
hundred yards to begin the action.
" Now spread everything," whispered the stranger.
3. Griffith applied the trumpet to his mouth, and shouted,
in a voice that was carried even to his enemy, " Let fall
out with your booms sheet home hoist away of every-
thing!"
4. The inspiring cry was answered by a universal bustle.
Fifty men flew out on the dizzy heights of the different
spars, while broad sheets of canvas rose as suddenly along
the masts, as if some mighty bird were spreading its wings.
The Englishman instantly perceived his mistake, and he an-
swered the artifice by a roar of artillery. Griffith watched
the effects of the broadside with an absorbing interest as
the shot whistled above his head; but when he perceived
his masts untouched, and the few unimportant ropes, only,
that were cut, he replied to the uproar with a burst of
pleasure.
5. A few men were, however, seen clinging with wild
frenzy to the cordage, dropping from rope to rope, like
wounded birds fluttering through a tree, until they fell
heavily into the ocean, the sullen ship sweeping by them
in a cold indifference. At the next instant, the spars and
masts of their enemy exhibited a display of men similar
to their own, when Griffith again placed the trumpet to
his mouth, and shouted aloud, "Give it to them; drive
them from their yards, boys ; scatter them with your grape ;
unreeve their rigging ! "
6. The crew of the American wanted but little encour-
agement to enter on this experiment with hearty good
will, and the close of his cheering words was uttered amid
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the deafening roar of his own cannon. The Pilot had,
however, mistaken the skill and readiness of their foe ; for,
notwithstanding the disadvantageous circumstances under
which the Englishman increased his sail, the duty was
steadily and dexterously performed.
7. The two ships were now running rapidly on parallel
lines, hurling at each other their instruments of destruction
with furious industry, and with severe and certain loss
to both, though with no manifest advantage in favor of
either. Both Griffith and the Pilot witnessed, with deep
concern, this unexpected defeat of their hopes; for they
could not conceal from themselves that each moment less-
ened their velocity through the water, as the shot of the
enemy stripped the canvas from the yards, or dashed aside
the lighter spars in their terrible progress.
8. " We find our equal here," said Griffith to the stranger.
" The ninety is heaving up again like a mountain ; and if
we continue to shorten sail at this rate, she will soon be
down upon us ! "
"You say true, sir," returned the Pilot, musing, "the
man shows judgment as well as spirit; but "
9. He was interrupted by Merry, who rushed from the
forward part of the vessel, his whole face betokening the
eagerness of his spirit and the importance of his intelli-
gence.
" The breakers ! " he cried, when nigh enough to be heard
amid the din ; " we are running dead on a ripple, and the
sea is white not two hundred yards ahead."
10. The Pilot jumped on a gun, and, bending to catch
a glimpse through the smoke, he shouted, in those clear,
piercing tones, that could be even heard among the roar-
ing of the cannon,
"Port, port your helm! we are on the Devil's Grip!
Pass up the trumpet, sir ; port your helm, fellow ; give it to
them, boys give it to the proud English dogs ! "
11. Griffith unhesitatingly relinquished the symbol of his
FIFTH READER. 299
rank, fastening his own firm look on the calm but quick
eye of the Pilot, and gathering assurance from the high
confidence he read in the countenance of the stranger. The
seamen were too busy with their cannon and the rigging to
regard the new danger ; and the frigate entered one of the
dangerous passes of the shoals, in the heat of a severely
contested battle.
12. The wondering looks of a few of the older sailors
glanced at the sheets of foam that flew by them, in doubt
whether the wild gambols of the waves were occasioned by
the shot of the enemy, when suddenly the noise of cannon
was succeeded by the sullen wash of the disturbed element,
and presently the vessel glided out of her smoky shroud, and
was boldly steering in the center of the narrow passages.
13. For ten breathless minutes longer the Pilot continued
to hold an uninterrupted sway, during which the vessel ran
swiftly by ripples and breakers, by streaks of foam and
darker passages of deep water, when he threw down his
trumpet and exclaimed
" What threatened to be our destruction has proved our
salvation. Keep yonder hill crowned with wood one point
open from the church tower at its base, and steer east and
by north ; you will run through these shoals on that course
in an hour, and by so doing you will gain five leagues of
your enemy, who will have to double their trail."
14. Every officer in the ship, after the breathless suspense
of uncertainty had passed, rushed to those places where a
view might be taken of their enemies. The ninety was
still steering boldly onward, and had already approached
the two-and-thirty, which lay a helpless wreck, rolling on
the unruly seas that were rudely tossing her on their wanton
billows. The frigate last engaged was running along the
edge of the ripple, with her torn sails flying loosely in the
air, her ragged spars tottering in the breeze, and every-
thing above her hull exhibiting the confusion of a sudden
and unlooked-for check to her progress.
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15. The exulting taunts and mirthful congratulations of
the seamen, as they gazed at the English ships, were, how-
ever, soon forgotten in the attention that was required to
their own vessel. The drums beat the retreat, the guns
were lashed, the wounded again removed, and every indi-
vidual able to keep the deck was required to lend his
assistance in repairing the damages to the frigate, and
securing her masts.
16. The promised hour carried the ship safely through
all the dangers, which were much lessened by daylight;
and by the time the sun had begun to fall over the land,
Griffith, who had not quitted the deck during the day,
beheld his vessel once more cleared of the confusion of the
chase and battle, and ready to meet another foe.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Frig' ate, a war vessel, usually carrying from
twenty-eight to forty-four guns, arranged in two tiers on each side.
Eq'ui-page (pro. ek'wi-paj), furniture, jilting out. 4. Ar'ti-fi9e,
skillful contrivance, trick. Broad'slde, a discharge of all the guns on
one side of a ship, above and below, at the same time. 7. Man'i-fest,
visible to the eye, apparent. 11. As-sur'an^e (pro. a-shur'ans), full
confidence, courage. 13. Sway, control, rule.
NOTES. 2. The Pilot, who appears in this story, under disguise,
is John Paul Jones, a celebrated American naval officer during the
Revolution. He was born in Scotland, in 1747, and was appren-
ticed when only twelve years old as a sailor. He was familiar
with the waters about the British Islands, and during part of the
war he hovered about their coasts in a daring way, capturing
many vessels, often against heavy odds, and causing great terror
to the enemy.
8. The ninety, refers to a large ninety-gun ship, part of a fleet
which was chasing the American vessel.
10. The Devil 's Grip; the name of a dangerous reef in the
English Channel.
13. One point open. Directions for steering, referring to the
compass.
14. The two-and-thirty ; i.e., another of the enemy's ships, carry-
ing thirty-two guns.
FIFTH READER. 301
C. BURIAL OF SIB JOHN MOORE.
Charles Wolfe (&. 1791, d. 1823), an Irish poet and clergyman, was
born in Dublin. He was educated in several schools, and graduated at the
university of his native city. He was ordained in 1817, and soon became
noted for his zeal and energy as a clergyman. His literary productions
were collected and published in 1825. " The Burial of Sir John Moore,"
one of the finest poems of its kind in the English language, was written
in 1817, and first appeared in the " Newry Telegraph," a newspaper, with
the author's initials, but without his knowledge. Byron said of this
ballad that he would rather be the author of it than of any one ever
written.
1. NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
2. We buried him darkly, at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
3. No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
4. Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,.
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
5. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'ei
his head,
And we far away on the billow!
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6. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reck, if they'll let him sleep on
In a grave where a Briton has laid him.
7. But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring
And we heard the distant random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
8. Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory!
DEFINITIONS. 3. Mar'tial (pro. mar'shal), military. 6. Up-
braid', to charge with something wrong or disgraceful, to reproach.
Reck, to take heed, to care. 7. Ran'dom, without fixed aim or pur-
pose, left to chance.
NOTE. Sir John Moore (b. 1761, d. 1809) was a celebrated
British general. He was appointed commander of the British
forces in Spain, in the war against Napoleon, and fell at the
battle of Corunna, by a cannon shot. Marshal Soult, the oppos-
ing French commander, caused a monument to be erected to his
memory. The British government has also raised a monument
to him in St. Paul's Cathedral, while his native city, Glasgow,
honors him with a bronze statue.
CI. LITTLE VICTORIES.
1. "0 MOTHER, now that I have lost my limb, I can
never be a soldier or a sailor ; I can never go round the
world!" And Hugh burst into tears, now more really
afflicted than he had ever been yet. His mother sat on
the bed beside him, and wiped away his tears as they
FIFTH READER. 303
flowed, while he told her, as well as his sobs would let
him, how long and how much he had reckoned on going
round the world, and how little he cared for anything else
in future ; and now this was the very thing he should never
be able to do !
2. He had practiced climbing ever since he could re-
member, and now this was of no use; he had practiced
marching, and now he should never march again. When
he had finished his complaint, there was a pause, and his
mother said,
" Hugh, you have heard of Huber ? "
"The man who found out so much about bees?" said
Hugh.
"Bees and ants. When Huber had discovered more
than had ever been known about these, and when he was
sure that he could learn still more, and was more and more
anxious to peep into their tiny homes and curious ways,
he became blind."
3. Hugh sighed, and his mother went on.
" Did you ever hear of Beethoven ? He was one of the
greatest musical composers that ever lived. His great, his
sole delight was in music. It was the passion of his life.
When all his time and all his mind were given to music,
he suddenly became deaf, perfectly deaf ; so that he never
more heard one single note from the loudest orchestra.
While crowds were moved and delighted with his compo-
sitions, it was all silence to him." Hugh said nothing.
4. "Now do you think," asked his mother and Hugh
saw that a mild and gentle smile beamed from her counte-
nance "do you think that these people were without a
Heavenly Parent ? "
" O no ! but were they patient ? " asked Hugh.
" Yes, in their different ways and degrees. Would you
suppose that they were hardly treated ? Or would you not
rather suppose that their Father gave them something
better to do than they had planned for themselves ? "
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5. "He must know best, of course; but it does seem
very hard that that very thing should happen to them.
Huber would not have so much minded being deaf, per-
haps ; or that musical man, being blind.
"No doubt their hearts often swelled within them at
their disappointments ; but I fully believe that they very
soon found God's will to be wiser than their wishes. They
found, if they bore their trial well, that there was work
for their hearts to do far nobler than any the head could
do through the eye or the ear. And they soon felt a new
and delicious pleasure which none but the bitterly disap-
pointed can feel."
" What is that ? "
6. " The pleasure of rousing the soul to bear pain, and
of agreeing with God silently, when nobody knows what is
in the breast. There is no pleasure like that of exercising
one's soul in bearing pain, and of finding one's heart glow
with the hope that one is pleasing God."
Shall I feel that pleasure ? "
" Often and often, I have no doubt ; every time you can
willingly give up your wish to be a soldier or a sailor, or
anything else you have set your mind upon, you will feel
that pleasure. But I do not expect it of you yet. I dare
say it was long a bitter thing to Beethoven to see hundreds
of people in raptures with his music, when he could not
hear a note of it."
7. " But did he ever smile again ? " asked Hugh.
" If he did, he was happier than all the fine music in the
world could have made him," replied his mother.
" I wonder, oh, I wonder, if I shall ever feel so ! "
"We will pray to God that you may. Shall we ask
him now ? " Hugh clasped his hands. His mother kneeled
beside the bed, and, in a very few words, prayed that
Hugh might be able to bear his misfortune well, and that
his friends might give him such help and comfort as God
should approve.
FIFTH READER. 305
8. Hugh found himself subject to very painful feelings
sometimes, such as no one quite understood, and such as he
feared no one was able to pity as they deserved. On one
occasion, when he had been quite merry for a while, and
his mother and his sister Agnes were chatting,- they thought
they heard a sob from the sofa. They spoke to Hugh, and
found that he was indeed crying bitterly.
" What is it, my dear ? " said his mother. " Agnes, have
we said anything that could hurt his feelings ? "
" No, no," sobbed Hugh. " I will tell you, presently."
9. And, presently, he told them that he was so busy
listening to what they said that he forgot everything else,
when he felt as if something had gotten between two of his
toes; unconsciously he put down his hand as if his foot
were there ! Nothing could be plainer than the feeling in
his toes ; and then, when he put out his hand, and found
nothing, it was so terrible, it startled him so! It was a
comfort to find that his mother knew about this. She
came, and kneeled by his sofa, and told him that many
persons who had lost a limb considered this the most pain
ful thing they had to bear for some time ; but that, though
the feeling would return occasionally through life, it would
cease to be painful.
10. Hugh was very much dejected, and when he thought
of the months and years to the end of his life, and that he
should never run and play, and never be like other people,
he almost wished that he were dead.
Agnes thought that he must be miserable indeed if he
could venture to say this to his mother. She glanced at
her mother's face, but there was no displeasure there. On
the contrary, she said this feeling was very natural. She
had felt it herself under smaller misfortunes than Hugh's ;
but she had found, though the prospect appeared all strewn
with troubles, that they came singly, and were not so hard
to bear, after all.
11. She told Hugh that when she was a little girl she
(5. 20.)
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was very lazy, fond of her bed, and not at all fond of
dressing or washing.
" Why, mother ! you ? " exclaimed Hugh.
"Yes; that was the sort of little girl I was. Well, 1
was in despair, one day, at the thought that I should have
to wash, and clean my teeth, and brush my hair, and put on
every article of dress, every morning, as long as I lived."
"Did you teU anybody ?" asked Hugh.
12. " No, I was ashamed to do that ; but I remember I
cried. You see how it turns out. When we have become
accustomed to anything, we do it without ever thinking
of the trouble, and, as the old fable tells us, the clock
that has to tick so many millions of times, has exactly the
same number of seconds to do it in. So will you find that
you can move about on each separate occasion, as you wish,
and practice will enable you to do it without any trouble
or thought."
" But this is not all, nor half what I mean," said Hugh.
13. " No, my dear, nor half what you will have to bear.
You resolved to bear it all patiently, I remember. But
what is it you dread the most ? "
"Oh! all manner of things. I can never do like other
people."
"Some things," replied his mother. "You can never
play cricket, as every Crofton boy would like to do. You
can never dance at your sister's Christmas parties."
14. " mamma ! " cried Agnes, with tears in her eyes,
and with the thought in her mind that it was cruel to talk
so.
"Go on! Go on!" cried Hugh, brightening. "You
know what I feel, mother ; and you don't keep telling me,
as others do, and even sister Agnes, sometimes, that it will
not signify much, and that I shall not care, and all that ;
making out that it is no misfortune, hardly, when I know
what it is, and they don't. Now, then, go on, mother!
What else?"
FIFTH READER. 307
15. " There will be little checks and mortifications con-
tinually, when you see little boys leaping over this, and
climbing that, and playing at the other, while you must
stand out, and can only look on And some people will
pity you in a way you will not like : and some may even
laugh at you."
" mamma ! " exclaimed Agnes.
" Well, and what else ? " said Hugh.
16. " Sooner or later you will have to follow some way
of life determined by this accident instead of one that you
would have liked better."
"Well, what else?"
" I must ask you, now. I can think of nothing more ;
and I hope there is not much else ; for, indeed, I think
here is quite enough for a boy, or anyone else, to bear."
" I will bear it though ; you will see."
17. "You will find great helps. These misfortunes of
themselves strengthen one's mind. They have some advan-
tages too. You will be a better scholar for your lameness,
I have no doubt. You will read more books, and have a
mind richer in thoughts. You will be more beloved by us
all, and you yourself will love God more for having given
you something to bear for his sake. God himself will help
you to bear your trials. You will conquer your troubles
one by one, and by a succession of LITTLE VICTORIES will
at last completely triumph over all."
Harriet Martineau.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Af-fltet'ed, overwhelmed, dejected. Reck'-
oned, calculated, counted. 3. Com-pog'er, an author of a piece of
music. Or'ehes-tra, a body of instrumental musicians. 7. Ap-
prove', sanction, allow. 10. De-jeet'ed, discouraged, low-spirited.
NOTES. 2. Francois Huber (b. 1750, d. 1831) was a Swiss nat-
uralist. He became blind at the age of fifteen, but pursued his
studies by the aid of his "wife and an attendant.
2. Ludwig van Beethoven (pro. ba'to-ven ; b. 1770, d. 1827) was
at Bonn, Prussia, but passed most of his life at Vienna.
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OH. THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.
Sir Henry Wotton (6. 1568, d. 1639) was born at Bocton Hall, Kent,
England. He was educated at Winchester and Oxford. About 1598 he was
taken into the service of the Earl of Essex, as one of his secretaries. On
the Earl's committal to the Tower for treason, Wottoii fled to France ; but
he returned to England immediately after the death of Elizabeth, and
received the honor of knighthood. He was King James's favorite diplo-
matist, and, in 1623, was appointed provost of Eton College. Wotton
wrote a number of prose works ; but his literary reputation rests mainly/
on some short poems, which are distinguished oy a dignity of thought
and expression rarely excelled.
1. How happy is he born and taught,
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!
2. Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the worldly care
Of public fame, or private breath j
3. Who envies none that chance doth raise,
Or vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good:
4. Who hath his life from rumors freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
6. Who God doth late and early pray,
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friend
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6. This man is freed from servile bands,
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands ;
And having nothing, yet hath all.
CHI. THE ART OP DISCOURAGEMENT.
Arthur Helps (6. 1813, d. 1875) graduated at Cambridge, England, in
1835. His best known works are: " Friends in Council, a Series of Read-
ings and Discourses," " Companions of my Solitude," and "Realmah," a
tale of the " lake dwellers " in southern Europe. He has also written a
" History of the Spanish Conquests in America," two historical dramas,
and several other works. Mr. Helps was a true thinker, and his writings
are deservedly popular with thoughtful readers. In 1859 he was appointed
secretary of the privy council.
1. REGARDING, one day, in company with a humorous
friend, a noble vessel of a somewhat novel construction sail-
ing slowly out of port, he observed, " What a quantity of
cold water somebody must have had down his back." In
my innocence, I supposed that he alluded to the wet work
of the artisans who had been building the vessel ; but when
I came to know him better, I found that this was the form
of comment he always indulged in when contemplating any
new and great work, and that his " somebody " was the
designer of the vessel.
2. My friend had carefully studied the art of discourage-
ment, and there was a class of men whom he designated
simply as "cold-water pourers." It was most amusing to
hear him describe the lengthened sufferings of the man who
first designed a wheel ; of him who first built a boat ; of the
adventurous personage who first proposed the daring enter-
prise of using buttons, instead of fish bones, to fasten the
scanty raiment of some savage tribe.
3. Warming with his theme, he would become quite elo-
quent in describing the long career of discouragement which
310 ECLECTIC SERIES.
these rash men had brought upon themselves, and which
he said, to his knowledge, must have shortened their lives.
He invented imaginary dialogues between the unfortunate
inventor, say of the wheel, and his particular friend, some
eminent cold-water pourer. For, as he said, every man has
some such friend, who fascinates him by fear, and to whom
he confides his enterprises in order to hear the worst that
can be said of them.
4. The sayings of the chilling friend, probably, as he ob-
served, ran thus : " We seem to have gone on very well
for thousands of years without this rolling thing. Your
father carried burdens on his back. The king is content to
be borne on men's shoulders. The high priest is not too
proud to do the same. Indeed, I question whether it is not
irreligious to attempt to shift from men's shoulders their
natural burdens.
5. " Then, as to its succeeding, for my part, I see no
chance of that. How can it go up hill ? How often you
have failed before in other fanciful things of the same
nature ! Besides, you are losing your time ; and the yams
about your hut are only half planted. You will be a beg-
gar ; and it is my duty, as a friend, to tell you so plainly.
6. " There was Nang-chung : what became of him ? We
had found fire for ages, in a proper way, taking a proper
time about it, by rubbing two sticks together. He must
needs strike out fire at once, with iron and flint ; and did
he die in his bed? Our sacred lords saw the impiety of
that proceeding, and very justly impaled the man who imi-
tated heavenly powers. And, even if you could succeed
with this new and absurd rolling thing, the state would be
ruined. What would become of those who carry burdens
on their backs ? Put aside the vain fancies of a childish
mind, and finish the planting of your yams."
7. It is really very curious to observe how, even in mod-
ern times, the arts of discouragement prevail. There are
men whose sole pretense to wisdom consists in administering
FIFTH READER. 311
discouragement. They are never at a loss. They are
equally ready to prophesy, with wonderful ingenuity, all
possible varieties of misfortune to any enterprise that may
be proposed ; and when the thing is produced, and has met
with some success, to find a flaw in it.
8. I once saw a work of art produced in the presence of
an eminent cold-water pourer. He did not deny that it
was beautiful ; but he instantly fastened upon a small crack
in it that nobody had observed; and upon that crack he
would dilate whenever the work was discussed in his pres-
ence. Indeed, he did not see the work, but only the crack
in it. That flaw, that little flaw, was all in all to him.
9. The cold-water pourers are not all of one form of
mind. Some are led to indulge in this recreation from gen-
uine timidity. They really do fear that all new attempts
will fail. Others are simply envious and ill-natured. Then,
again, there is a sense of power and wisdom in prophesying
evil. Moreover, it is the safest thing to prophesy, for
hardly anything at first succeeds exactly in the way that it
was intended to succeed.
10. Again, there is the lack of imagination which gives
rise to the utterance of so much discouragement. For an
ordinary man, it must have been a great mental strain to
grasp the ideas of the first projectors of steam and gas, elec-
tric telegraphs, and pain-deadening chloroform. The in-
ventor is always, in the eyes of his fellow-men, somewhat
of a madman ; and often they do their best to make him so.
11. Again, there is the want of sympathy; and that is,
perhaps, the ruling cause in most men's minds who have
given themselves up to discourage. They are not tender
enough, or sympathetic enough, to appreciate all the pain
they are giving, when, in a dull plodding way, they lay out
argument after argument to show that the project which
the poor inventor has set his heart upon, and upon which,
perhaps, he has staked his fortune, will not succeed.
12. But what inventors suffer, is only a small part ol
312 ECLECTIC SERIES.
what mankind in general endure from thoughtless and
unkind discouragement. Those high-souled men belong to
the suffering class, and must suffer ; but it is in daily life
that the wear and tear of discouragement tells so much.
Propose a small party of pleasure to an apt discourager,
and see what he will make of it. It soon becomes sicklied
over with doubt and despondency; and, at last, the only
hope of the proposer is, that his proposal, when realized,
will not be an ignominious failure. All hope of pleasure, at
least for the proposer, has long been out of the question.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Des'ig-nat-ed, called by a distinctive title,
named. 5. Yam, the root of a climbing plant, found in the tropics,
which is used for food. 6. Im-paled', put to death by being fixed on
an upright, sharp stake. 8. Di-late', to speak largely, to dwell in
narration. 10. Rise {pro. ris, not riz), source, origin. Projee'tor,
one who forms a scheme or design.
CIV. THE MARINER'S DREAM,
William Dimond (&. 1780, d. 1837) was a dramatist and poet, living at
Bath, England, where he was born and received his education. He after-
wards studied for the bar in London. His literary productions are for the
most part dramas, but he has also written a number of poems, among
them the following:
1. IN slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay ;
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind ;
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,
And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind.
2. He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers,
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn ;
While Memory each scene gayly covered with flowers,
And restored every rose, but secreted the thorn.
FIFTH READER. 313
3. Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide,
And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise;
Now, far, far behind him the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.
4. The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch,
And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall ;
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
And the voices of loved ones reply to his call.
5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight;
His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear;
And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.
6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast;
Joy quickens his pulses, all his hardships seem o'er ;
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,
"0 God! thou hast blest me, I ask for no more."
7. Ah ! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye ?
Ah! what is that sound that now 'larums his ear?
'T is the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky !
? T is the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere !
8. He springs from his hammock, he flies to the deck;
Amazement confronts him with images dire;
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck ;
The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire.
9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell;
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save;
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,
And the death angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave I
314 ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frostwork of bliss!
Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright,
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss ?
11. sailor boy ! sailor boy ! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay;
Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main,
Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.
12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge ;
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be,
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge.
13. On a bed of green sea flowers thy limbs shall be laid,
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made,
And every part suit to thy mansion below.
14. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye;
sailor boy ! sailor boy ! peace to thy soul !
DEFINITIONS. 1. Ham'mock, a hanging or swinging bed, usu-
ally made of netting or hempen cloth. 4. Trans'port, ecstasy, rap-
ture. 5. Im-pearled' (pro. im-perled'), decorated with pearls, or
with things resembling pearls. 7. 'Lar'um (an abbreviation of
alarums, for alarms), affrights, terrifies. 12. Dirge, funeral music.
NOTES. 13. Coral is the solid part of a minute sea animal,
corresponding to the bones in other animals. It grows in many
fantastic shapes, and is of various colors.
Amber is a yellow resin, and is the fossilized gum of buried
trees. It is mined in several localities in Europe and America;
it is also found along the seacoast, washed up by the waves.
FIFTH READER. 315
CV. THE PASSENGER PIGEON.
John James Audubon (6. 1780, d. 1851). This celebrated American
ornithologist was born in Louisiana. When quite young he was passion-
ately fond of birds, and took delight in studying their habits. In 1797
his father, an admiral in the French navy, sent him to. Paris to be edu-
cated. On his return to America, he settled on a farm in eastern Penn-
sylvania, but afterwards removed to Henderson, Ky., where he resided
several years, supporting his family by trade, but devoting most of his
time to the pursuit of his favorite study. In 1826 he went to England,
and commenced the publication of the "Birds of America," which con-'
sists of ten volumes five of engravings of birds, natural size, and five of
letterpress. Cuvier declares this work to be "the most magnificent
monument that art has ever erected to ornithology." In 1830 Audubon
returned to America, and soon afterwards made excursions into nearly
every section of the United States and Canada. A popular edition of his
great work was published, in seven volumes, in 1844, and " The Quadru-
peds of America," in six volumes, three of plates and three of letter-
press, in 1846-50. He removed to the vicinity of New York about 1840,
and resided there until his death.
1. THE multitudes of wild pigeons in our woods are as-
tonishing. Indeed, after having viewed them so often, and
under so many circumstances, I even now feel inclined to
pause and assure myself that what I am going to relate is
a fact. Yet I have seen it all, and that, too, in the com-
pany of persons who, like myself, were struck with amaze-
ment.
2. In the autumn of 1813 I left my house at Hender-
son, on the banks of the Ohio, on my way to Louisville.
In passing over the Barrens, a few miles beyond Hardins-
burgh, I observed the pigeons flying, from northeast to'
southwest, in greater numbers than I thought I had ever
seen them before, and feeling an inclination to count the
flocks that might pass within the reach of my eye in one
hour, I dismounted, seated myself on an eminence, and be-
gan to mark with my pencil, making a dot for every flock
that passed.
3. In a short time, finding the task which I had under-
taken impracticable, as the birds poured in in countless
multitudes, I rose, and, counting the dots then put down,
316 ECLECTIC SERIES.
found that one hundred and sixty-three had been made
in twenty-one minutes. I traveled on, and still met more
the farther I proceeded. The air was literally filled with
pigeons ; the light of noonday was obscured as by an
eclipse ; and the continued buzz of wings had a tendency
to lull my senses to repose.
4. Whilst waiting for dinner at Young's inn, at the con-
fluence of Salt Eiver with the Ohio, I saw, at my leisure,
immense legions still going by, with a front reaching far
beyond the Ohio on the west, and the beech wood forests
directly on the east of me. Not a single bird alighted, for
not a nut or acorn was that year to be seen in the neigh-
borhood. They consequently flew so high that different
trials to reach them with a capital rifle proved ineffectual ;
nor did the reports disturb them in the least.
5. I can not describe to you the extreme beauty of their
aerial evolutions when a hawk chanced to press upon the
rear of a flock. At once, like a torrent, and with a noise
like thunder, they rushed into a compact mass, pressing
upon each other towards the center. In these almost solid
masses, they darted forward in undulating and angular
lines, descended and swept close over the earth with incon-
ceivable velocity, mounted perpendicularly so as to resem-
ble a vast column, and, when high, were seen wheeling and
twisting within their continued lines, which then resembled
the coils of a gigantic serpent.
6. As soon as the pigeons discover a sufficiency of food
to entice them to alight, they fly round in circles, review-
ing the country below. During their evolutions, on such
occasions, the dense mass which they form exhibits a beau-
tiful appearance, as it changes its direction, now displaying
a glistening sheet of azure, when the backs of the birds
come simultaneously into view, and anon suddenly present-
ing a mass of rich, deep purple.
7. They then pass lower, over the woods, and for a mo-
ment are lost among the foliage, but again emerge, and are
FIFTH READER. 317
seen gliding aloft. They now alight; but the next mo-
ment, as if suddenly alarmed, they take to wing, producing
by the flappings of their wings a noise like the roar of
distant thunder, and sweep through the forests to see if
danger is near. Hunger, however, soon brings them to the
ground.
8. When alighted, they are seen industriously throwing
up the withered leaves in quest of the fallen mast. The
rear ranks are continually rising, passing over the main
body, and alighting in front, in such rapid succession, that
the whole flock seems still on wing. The quantity of
ground thus swept is astonishing; and so completely has
it been cleared that the gleaner who might follow in their
rear would find his labor completely lost.
9. On such occasions, when the woods are filled with,
these pigeons, they are killed in immense numbers, al-
though no apparent diminution ensues. About the middle
of the day, after their repast is finished, they settle on the
trees to enjoy rest and digest their food. As the sun be-
gins to sink beneath the horizon, they depart en masse for
the roosting place, which not unfrequently is hundreds of
miles distant, as has been ascertained by persons who have
kept an account of their arrivals and departures.
10. Let us now inspect their place of nightly rendezvous.
One of these curious roosting places, on the banks of the
Green Eiver, in Kentucky, I repeatedly visited. It was,
as is always the case, in a portion of the forest where the
trees were of great magnitude, and where there was little
underwood. I rode through it upwards of forty miles, and,
crossing it in different parts, found its average breadth to
be rather more than three miles. My first view of it was
about a fortnight subsequent to the period when they had
made choice of it, and I arrived there nearly two hours
before sunset.
11. Many trees, two feet in diameter, I observed, were
broken off at no great distance from the ground ; and the
818 ECLECTIC SERIES.
branches of many of the largest and tallest had given way,
as if the forest had been swept by a tornado. Everything
proved to me that the number of birds resorting to this
part of the forest must be immense beyond conception.
12. As the period of their arrival approached, their foes
anxiously prepared to receive them. Some were furnished
with iron pots containing sulphur, others with torches of
pine knots, many with poles, and the rest with guns. The
sun was lost to our view, yet not a pigeon had arrived.
Everything was ready, and all eyes were gazing on the
clear sky, which appeared in glimpses amidst the tall
trees. Suddenly there burst forth the general cry of,
"Here they come!"
13. The noise which they made, though yet distant, re-
minded me of a hard gale at sea passing through the rig-
ging of a close-reefed vessel. As the birds arrived and
passed over me, I felt a current of air that surprised me.
Thousands were soon knocked down by the pole men. The
birds continued to pour in. The fires were lighted, and a
magnificent as well as wonderful and almost terrifying
sight presented itself.
14. The pigeons, arriving by thousands, alighted every-
where, one above another, until solid masses, as large as
hogsheads, were formed on the branches all round. Here
and there the perches gave way under the weight with a
crash, and falling to the ground destroyed hundreds of the
birds beneath, forcing down the dense groups with which
every stick was loaded. It was a scene of uproar and
confusion. I found it quite useless to speak or even to
shout to those persons who were nearest to me. Even the
reports of the guns were seldom heard, and I was made
aware of the firing only by seeing the shooters reloading.
15. The uproar continued the whole night; and as I
was anxious to know to what distance the sound reached,
I sent off a man, accustomed to perambulate the forest,
who, returning two hours afterwards, informed me he had
FIFTH READER. 319
heard it distinctly when three miles distant from the spot.
Towards the approach of day, the noise in some measure
subsided; long before objects were distinguishable, the
pigeons began to move off in a direction quite different
from that in wliich they had arrived the evening before,
and at sunrise all that were able to fly had disappeared.
DEFINITIONS. 5. A-e'ri-al, belonging or pertaining to the air.
6. A-non', in a short time, soon. 8. Mast, the fruit of oak and
beech or other forest trees. 10. Ren'dez-vpus (pro. ren'de-voo), an
appointed or customary place of meeting. Sub'se-quent, following
in time. 15. Per-am'bu-late, to walk through.
NOTES. The wild pigeon, in common with almost every va-
riety of game, is becoming more scarce throughout the country
each year ; and Audubon's account, but for the position he holds,
would in time, no doubt, be considered ridiculous.
9. En masse (pro. aN mas), a French phrase meaning in a
body.
CVI. THE COUNTRY LIFR
Richard Henry Stoddard (6. 1825, ) was born at Hingham,
Mass., but removed to New York City while quite young. His first
volume of poems, "Foot-prints," appeared in 1849, and has been fol-
lowed by many others. Of these may be mentioned " Songs of Sum-
mer," "Town and Country," "The King's Bell," "Abraham Lincoln"
(an ode), and the " Book of the East," from the last of which the follow-
ing selection is abridged. Mr. Stoddard 's verses are full of genuine feel-
ing, and some of them show great poetic power.
1. NOT what we would, but what we must,
Makes up the sum of living:
Heaven is both more and less than just,
In taking and in giving.
Swords cleave to hands that sought the plow,
And laurels miss the soldier's brow.
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2. Me, whom the city holds, whose feet
Have worn its stony highways,
Familiar with its loneliest street,
Its ways were never my ways.
My cradle was beside the sea,
And there, I hope, my grave will be.
3. Old homestead! in that old gray town
Thy vane is seaward blowing;
Thy slip of garden stretches down
To where the tide is flowing;
Below they lie, their sails all furled,
The ships that go about the world.
4. Dearer that little country house,
Inland with pines beside it;
Some peach trees, with unfruitful boughs,
A well, with weeds to hide it :
No flowers, or only such as rise
Self-sown poor things ! which all despise.
5. Dear country home! can I forget
The least of thy sweet trifles ?
The window vines that clamber yet,
Whose blooms the bee still rifles?
The roadside blackberries, growing ripe,
And in the woods the Indian pipe?
6. Happy the man who tills his field,
Content with rustic labor;
Earth does to him her fullness yield,
Hap what may to his neighbor.
Well days, sound nights oh, can there be
A life more rational and free ?
NOTE. 5. The Indian pipe is a little, white plant, bearing
white, bell-shaped flower.
FIFTH READER. 321
CVII. THE VIRGINIANS.
William Makepeace Thackeray (6. 1811, d. 1863). This popular
English humorist, essayist, and novelist was born in Calcutta. He was
educated at the Charterhouse school in London, and at Cambridge, but
he did not complete a collegiate course of study. He began his literary
career as a contributor to " Eraser's Magazine," under the assumed
name of Michael Angelo Titmarsh, and afterwards contributed to the
columns of "Punch." The first novel published under Thackeray's
own name was "Vanity Fair," which is regarded by many as his
greatest work. He afterwards wrote a large number of novels, tales,,
and poems, most of which were illustrated by sketches drawn by him-
self. His course of "Lectures on the English Humorists" was deliv-
ered in London in 1851, and the following year in several cities in the
United States. He revisited the United States in 1856, and delivered a
course of lectures on " The Four Georges," which he repeated in Great
Britain soon after his return home. In 1860 he became the editor of
" The Cornhill Magazine," the most successful serial ever published in
England.
1. MR. ESMOND called his American house Castlewood,
from the patrimonial home in the old country. The whole
usages of Virginia, indeed, were fondly modeled after the
English customs. It was a loyal colony. The Virginians
boasted that King Charles the Second had been king in
Virginia before he had been king in England. English king
and English church were alike faithfully honored there.
2. The resident gentry were allied to good English fami-
lies. They held their heads above the Dutch traders of
New York, and the money-getting Eoundheads of Penn-
sylvania and New England. Never were people less re-
publican than those of the great province which was soon
to be foremost in the memorable revolt against the British
Crown.
3. The gentry of Virginia dwelt on their great lands
after a fashion almost patriarchal. For its rough cultiva-
tion, each estate had a multitude of hands of purchased
and assigned servants who were subject to the command
of the master. The land yielded their food, live stock, and
game.
(5. .)
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4. The great rivers swarmed with, fish for the taking.
Prom their banks the passage home was clear. Their ships
took the tobacco off their private wharves on the banks of
the Potomac or the James River, and carried it to London
or Bristol, bringing back English goods and articles of
home manufacture in return for the only produce which the
Virginian gentry chose to cultivate.
5. Their hospitality was boundless. No stranger was ever
sent away from their gates. The gentry received one an-
other, and traveled to each other's houses, in a state almost
feudal. The question of slavery was not born at the time
of which we write. To be the proprietor of black servants
shocked the feelings of no Virginia gentleman; nor, in
truth, was the despotism exercised over the negro race gen-
erally a savage one. The food was plenty : the poor black
people lazy and not unhappy. You might have preached
negro emancipation to Madam Esmond of Castle wood as
you might have told her to let the horses run loose out of
her stables ; she had no doubt but that the whip and the
corn bag were good for both.
6. Her father may have thought otherwise, being of a
skeptical turn on very many points, but his doubts did not
break forth in active denial, and he was rather disaffected
than rebellious. At one period, this gentleman had taken
a part in active life at home, and possibly might have been
eager to share its rewards ; but in latter days he did not
seem to care for them. A something had occurred in his
life, which had cast a tinge of melancholy over all his
existence.
7. He was not unhappy, to those about him most kind,
most affectionate, obsequious even to the women of his
family, whom he scarce ever contradicted; but there had
been some bankruptcy of his heart, which his spirit never
recovered. He submitted to life, rather than enjoyed it,
and never was in better spirits than in his last hours when
he was going to lay it down.
FIFTH READER. 323
8. When the boys' grandfather died, their mother, in
great state, proclaimed her eldest son George her successor
and heir of the estate ; and Harry, George's younger brother
by half an hour, was always enjoined to respect his senior.
All the household was equally instructed to pay him honor;
the negroes, of whom there was a large and happy family,
and the assigned servants from Europe, whose lot was made
as bearable as it might be under the government of the
lady of Castlewood.
9. In the whole family there scarcely was a rebel save
Mrs. Esmond's faithful friend and companion, Madam
Mountain, and Harry's foster mother, a faithful negro
woman, who never could be made to understand why her
child should not be first, who was handsomer, and stronger,
and cleverer than his brother, as she vowed; though, in
truth, there was scarcely any difference in the beauty,
strength, or stature of the twins.
10. In disposition, they were in many points exceedingly
unlike ; but in feature they resembled each other so closely,
that, but for the color of their hair, it had been difficult to
distinguish them. In their beds, and when their heads
were covered with those vast, ribboned nightcaps, which our
great and little ancestors wore, it was scarcely possible for
any but a nurse or a mother to tell the one from the other
child.
11. Howbeit, alike in form, we have said that they
differed in temper. The elder was peaceful, studious, and
silent ; the younger was warlike and noisy. He was quick
at learning when he began, but very slow at beginning.
No threats of the ferule would provoke Harry to learn in
an idle fit, or would prevent George from helping his
brother in his lesson. Harry was of a strong military turn,
drilled the little negroes on the estate, and caned them like
a corporal, having many good boxing matches with them,
and never bearing malice if he was worsted; whereas
George was sparing of blows, and gentle with all about him.
324 ECLECTIC SERIES.
12. As the custom in all families was, each of the boys
had a special little servant assigned him: and it was a
known fact that George, finding his little wretch of a black-
amoor asleep on his master's bed, sat down beside it, and
brushed the flies off the child with a feather fan, to the
horror of old Gumbo, the child's father, who found his
young master so engaged, and to the indignation of Madam
Esmond, who ordered the young negro off to the proper
officer for a whipping. In vain George implored and en-
treated burst into passionate tears, and besought a remis-
sion of the sentence. His mother was inflexible regarding
the young rebel's punishment, and the little negro went off
beseeching his young master not to cry.
13. On account of a certain apish drollery and humor
which exhibited itself in the lad, and a liking for some of
the old man's pursuits, the first of the twins was the grand-
father's favorite and companion, and would laugh and talk
out all his infantine heart to the old gentleman, to whom
the younger had seldom a word to say.
14. George was a demure, studious boy, and his senses
seemed to brighten up in the library, where his brother was
so gloomy. He knew the books before he could well-nigh
carry them, and read in them long before he could under-
stand them. Harry, on the other hand, was all alive in
the stables or in the wood, eager for all parties of hunting
and fishing, and promised to be a good sportsman from a
very early age.
15. At length the time came when Mr. Esmond was to
have done with the affairs of this life, and he laid them
down as if glad to be rid of their burden. All who read
and heard that discourse, wondered where Parson Broad-
bent of James Town found the eloquence and the Latin
which adorned it. Perhaps Mr. Dempster knew, the boys'
Scotch tutor, who corrected the proofs of the oration, which
was printed, by the desire of his Excellency and many
persons of honor, at Mr. Franklin's press in Philadelphia,
FIFTH READER. 325
16. No such sumptuous funeral had ever been seen in the
country as that which Madam Esmond Warrington ordained
for her father, who would have been the first to smile at
that pompous grief.
17. The little lads of Castlewood, almost smothered in
black trains and hatbands, headed the procession and were
followed by my Lord Fairfax, from Greenway Court, by
his Excellency the Governor of Virginia (with his coach),
by the Randolphs, the Careys, the Harrisons, the Washing-
tons, and many others ; for the whole country esteemed the
departed gentleman, whose goodness, whose high talents,
whose benevolence and unobtrusive urbanity, had earned
for him the just respect of his neighbors.
18. When informed of the event, the family of Colonel
Esmond's stepson, the Lord Castlewood of Hampshire in
England, asked to be at the charges of the marble slab
which recorded the names and virtues of his lordship's
mother and her husband; and after due time of prepara-
tion, the monument was set up, exhibiting the arms and
coronet of the Esmonds, supported by a little, chubby group
of weeping cherubs, and reciting an epitaph which for once
did not tell any falsehoods.
DEFINITIONS. 1. Pat-ri-mo'ni-al, inherited from ancestors.
6. Dis-af-fect'ed, discontented. 7. Ob-se'qui-ous, compliant to ex-
cess. 12. Black'a-moor, a negro. 17. Ur-ban'i-ty, civility or cour-
tesy of manners, refinement. 18. Ep'i-taph (pro. ep'i-taf), an
inscription on a monument, in honor or in memory of the dead.
NOTES. 2. Roundhead was the epithet applied to the Puritans
by the Cavaliers in the time of Charles I. It arose from the
practice among the Puritans of cropping their hair peculiarly.
3. Patriarchal. 5. Feudal. The Jewish patriarch, in olden
times, and the head of a noble family in Europe, during the
Middle Ages, when the u Feudal System," as it is called, existed,
both held almost despotic sway, the one over his great number of
descendants and relations, and the other over a vast body of sub-
326 ECLECTIC SERIES.
jects or retainers. Both patriarch and feudal lord were less re-
stricted than the modern king, and the feudal lord, especially,
lived in a state of great magnificence.
15. Proofs. When matter is to be printed, a rough impression
of it is taken as soon as the type is set up, and sent to the editor
or some other authority for correction. These first sheets are
called proofs.
His Excellency was the title applied to the governor.
CVIII. MINOT'S LEDGE.
Pitz- James O'Brien (&. 1828, d. 1862) was of Irish birth, and came to
America in 1852. He has contributed a number of tales and poems to
various periodicals, but his writings have never been collected in book
form. Mr. O'Brien belonged to the New York Seventh Regiment, and
died at Baltimore of a wound received in a cavalry skirmish.
1. LIKE spectral hounds across the sky,
The white clouds scud before the storm;
And naked in the howling night
The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form.
The waves with slippery fingers clutch
The massive tower, and climb and fall,
And, muttering, growl with bamed rage
Their curses on the sturdy wall.
2. Up in the lonely tower he sits,
The keeper of the crimson light:
Silent and awe-struck does he hear
The imprecations of the night.
The white spray beats against the panes
Like some wet ghost that down the air
Is hunted by a troop of fiends,
And seeks a shelter anywhere.
FIFTH HEADER. 327
3. He prays aloud, the lonely man,
For every soul that night at sea,
But more than all for that brave boy
Who used to gayly climb his knee,
Young Charlie, with his chestnut hair,
And hazel eyes, and laughing lip.
"May Heaven look down," the old man cries,
"Upon my son, and on his ship!"
4. While thus with pious heart he prays,
Far in the distance sounds a boom :
He pauses; and again there rings
That sullen thunder through the room.
A ship upon the shoals to-night!
She cannot hold for one half hour ;
But clear the ropes and grappling hooks,
And trust in the Almighty Power!
5. On the drenched gallery he stands,
Striving to pierce the solid night:
Across the sea the red eye throws
A steady crimson wake of light;
And, where it falls upon the waves,
He sees a human head float by,
With long drenched curls of chestnut hair,
And wild but fearless hazel eye.
6. Out with the hooks! One mighty fling!
Adown the wind the long rope curls.
Oh ! will it catch ? Ah, dread suspense !
While the wild ocean wilder whirls.
A steady pull; it tightens now:
Oh ! his old heart will burst with joy,
As on the slippery rocks he pulls
The breathing body of his boy.
328 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7. Still sweep the specters through the sky;
Still scud the clouds before the storm;
Still naked in the howling night
The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form.
Without, the world is wild with rage;
Unkenneled demons are abroad;
But with the father and the son
Within, there is the peace of God.
NOTE. Minot's Ledge (also called the "Cohasset Rocks") is
a dangerous reef in Boston Harbor, eight miles southeast of
Boston Light. It has a fixed light of its own, sixty-six feet high.
CIX. HAMLET.
William Shakespeare (6. 1564, d. 1616), by many regarded as the
greatest poet the world has ever produced, was born at Stratford-upon-
Avon, England. He was married, when very young, to a woman eight
years his senior, went to London, was joint proprietor of Blackfriar's
Theater in 1589, wrote poems and plays, was an actor, accumulated
some property, and retired to Stratford three or four years before his
death. He was buried in Stratford church, where a monument has
been erected to his memory. This is all that is known of him with
any degree of certainty.
Shakespeare's works consist chiefly of plays and sonnets. They show
a wonderful knowledge of human nature, expressed in language remark-
able for its point and beauty.
(AcT I, SCENE II. HAMLET alone in a room of the castle.
Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO.)
Hor. HAIL to your lordship!
Ham. I am glad to see you well:
Horatio, or I do forget myself.
Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
Ham. Sir, my good friend ; I '11 change that name with you :
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?
Marcellus ?
FIFTH READER. 329
Mar. My good lord
Ham. I am very glad to see you. [To BER.] Good even, sir.
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg ?
Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so,
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I know you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hor. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student;
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeial baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father ! methinks I see my father.
Hor. Where, my lord?
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hor. I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw? who?
Hor. My lord, the king your father.
Ham. The king my father!
Hor. Season your admiration for a while
With an attent ear, till I may deliver,
Upon the witness of these gentlemen,
This marvel to you.
Ham. For God's love, let me hear,
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch,
In the dead vast and middle of the night,
330
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Been thus encountered. A figure like your father,
Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pie,
Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
FIFTH READER. 331
By their oppressed and fear-surprised eyes,
Within his truncheon's length ; whilst they, distilPd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
In dreadful secrecy impart they did;
And I with them the third night kept the watch:
Where, as they had delivered, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,.
The apparition conies: I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.
Ham. But where was this?
Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you speak to it?
Hor. My lord, I did;
But answer made it none: yet once methought
It lifted up its head and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
But even then the morning cock crew loud,
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away,
And vanished from our sight.
Ham. 'Tis very strange.
Hor. As I do live, my honored lord, 'tis true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.
Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me.
Hold you the watch to-night?
Mar ' I We do, my lord.
Ber. )
Ham. Arm'd, say you?
Mar ' I Arm'd, my lord.
Ber. )
Ham. From top to toe?
Mar ' I My lord, from head to foot
Ber. )
Ham. Then saw you not his face?
Hor. Oh, yes, my lord ; he wore his beaver up.
332 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Ham. What, look'd lie frowningly?
HOT. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
Ham. Pale or red?
Nay, very pale.
And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Most constantly.
I would I had been there.
It would have much amazed you.
Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
> Longer, longer.
Not when I saw't.
His beard was grizzled, no ?
It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
Ham. I will watch to-night;
Perchance 't will walk again.
Hor. I warrant it will.
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all,
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight,
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night,
Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'twixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
DEFINITIONS. Tru'ant, wandering from business, loitering.
Trust'er, a believer. At-tent', attentive, heedful. De-liv'er, to
communicate, to utter. Cap-a-pie' (from the French, pro. kap-a-pee'),
from head to foot. Truncheon (pro. trun'shun), a short staff, a
baton. Bea'ver, a part of the helmet covering the face, so constructed
that the wearer could raise or lower it. Ten'a-ble, capable of being
held.
FIFTH READER. 333
NOTES. What make you from Wittenberg* i.e., what are you
doing away from Wittenberg ?
Wittenberg is a university town in Saxony, where Hamlet and
Horatio had been schoolfellows.
Elsinore is a fortified town on one of the Danish islands, and
was formerly the seat of one of the royal castles. It is the scene
of Shakespeare's " Hamlet."
Hard upon; i.e., soon after.
Funeral baked meats. This has reference to the ancient custom
of funeral feasts.
My dearest foe ; i.e., my greatest foe. A common use of the
word " dearest " in Shakespeare's time.
Or ever; i.e., before.
Season your admiration; i.e., restrain your wonder.
The dead vast; i.e., the dead void.
Armed at point; i.e., armed at all points.
Did address itself to motion; i.e., made a motion.
Give it an understanding, etc. ; i.e., understand, but do not speak
of it.
1 will requite your loves, or, as we should say, I will repay your
friendship.
CX. DISSERTATION ON BOAST PIG.
Charles Lamb (&. 1775, d. 1834) was born in London. He was educated
at Christ's Hospital, where he was a schoolfellow and intimate friend of
Coleridge. In 1792 he became a clerk in the India House, London, and in
1825 he retired from his clerkship on a pension of 441. Lamb never mar-
ried, but devoted his life to the care of his sister Mary, who was at times
insane. He wrote "Tales founded on the Plays of Shakespeare," and
several other works of rare merit ; but his literary fame rests principally
on the inimitable " Essays of Elia " (published originally in the " London
Magazine "), from one of which the following selection is adapted.
1. MANKIND, says a Chinese manuscript, which my
friend M. was obliging enough to read and explain to me,
for the first seventy thousand ages ate their meat raw,
clawing or biting it from the living animal, just as they
do in Abyssinia to this day.
334 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. Tliis period is not obscurely hinted at by their great
Confucius in the second chapter of his "Mundane Muta-
tions," where he designates a kind of golden age by the
term Cho-fang, literally the Cooks' Holiday. The manu-
script goes on to say that the art of roasting, or rather
broiling (which I take to be the elder brother), was acci-
dentally discovered in the manner following :
3. The swineherd, Ho-ti, having gone out into the woods
one morning, as his manner was, to collect mast for his
hogs, left his cottage in the care of his eldest son, Bo-bo, a
great lubberly boy, who, being fond of playing with fire,
as younkers of his age commonly are, let some sparks
escape into a bundle of straw, which, kindling quickly,
spread the conflagration over every part of their poor
mansion till it was reduced to ashes.
4. Together with the cottage, a sorry, antediluvian
makeshift of a building, you may think it, what was of
much more importance, a fine litter of newborn pigs, no
less than nine in number, perished. China pigs have been
esteemed a luxury all over the East from the remotest
periods we read of.
5. Bo-bo was in the utmost consternation, as you may
think, not so much for the sake of the tenement, which his
father and he could easily build up again with a few dry
branches, and the labor of an hour or two, at any time, as
for the loss of the pigs. While he was thinking what he
should say to his father, and wringing his hands over the
smoking remnants of one of those untimely sufferers, an
odor assailed his nostrils unlike any scent which he had
before experienced.
6. What could it proceed from? Not from the burnt
cottage, he had smelt that smell before, indeed, this was
by no means the first accident of the kind which had oc-
curred through the negligence of this unlucky young fire-
brand. Much less did it resemble that of any known herb,
weed, or flower. A premonitory moistening at the same
FIFTH READER. 335
time overflowed his nether lip. He knew not what to
think.
7. He next stooped down to feel the pig, if there were
any signs of life in it. He burnt his fingers, and to cool
them lie applied them in his booby fashion to his mouth.
Some of the crumbs of the scorched skin had come away
with his fingers, and for the first time in his life (in the
world's life, indeed, for before him no man had known it)
he tasted crackling! Again he felt and fumbled at the
pig. It did not burn him so much now ; still he licked his
fingers from a sort of habit.
8. The truth at length broke into his slow understanding
that it was the pig that smelt so, and the pig that tasted
so delicious; and surrendering himself up to the newborn
pleasure, he fell to tearing up whole handfuls of the
scorched skin with the flesh next it, and was cramming it
down his throat in his beastly fashion, when his sire entered
amid the smoking rafters, armed with a retributory cudgel,
and, finding how affairs stood, began to rain blows upon
the young rogue's shoulders as thick as hailstones, which
Bo-bo heeded not any more than if they had been flies.
9. His father might lay on, but he could not beat him
from his pig till he had fairly made an end of it, when,
becoming a little more sensible of his situation, something
like the following dialogue ensued :
" You graceless whelp, what have you got there devour-
ing ? Is it not enough that you have burnt me down three
houses with your dog's tricks, and be hanged to you ! but
you must be eating fire, and I know not what? What
have you got there, I say ? "
" O father, the pig, the pig ! do come and taste how nice
the burnt pig eats ! "
10. The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed
his son, and he cursed himself that he should ever have a
son that should eat burnt pig.
Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since
336 ECLECTIC SEEIES.
morning, soon raked out another pig, and, fairly rending it
asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force into the fists
of Ho-ti, still shouting out, "Eat, eat, eat the burnt pig,
father ! only taste ! Oh ! " with such like barbarous ejacu-
lations, cramming all the while as if he would choke.
11. Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped the
abominable thing, wavering whether he should not put his
son to death for an unnatural young monster, when the
crackling scorching his fingers, as it had done his son's,
and applying the same remedy to them, he in his turn
tasted some of its flavor, which, make what sour mouths he
would for a pretense, proved not altogether displeasing to
him. In conclusion (for the manuscript here is a little
tedious), both father and son fairly sat down to the mess,
and never left off till they had dispatched all that remained
of the litter.
12. Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret
escape, for the neighbors would certainly have stoned them
for a couple of abominable wretches, who could think of
improving upon the good meat which God had sent them.
Nevertheless strange stories got about. It was observed
that Ho-ti's cottage was burnt down now more frequently
than ever. Nothing but fires from this time forward,
Some would break out in broad day, others in the night-
time ; and Ho-ti himself, which was the more remarkable,
instead of chastising his son, seemed to grow more indul-
gent to him than ever.
13. At length they were watched, the terrible mystery
discovered, and father and son summoned to take their
trial at Pekin, then an inconsiderable assize town. Evi-
dence was given, the obnoxious food itself produced in
court, and verdict about to be pronounced, when the fore-
man of the jury begged that some of the burnt pig, of
which the culprits stood accused, might be handed into
the box.
14. He handled it, and they all handled it ; and burning
FIFTH READER. 337
their fingers, as Bo-bo and his father had done before them,
and nature prompting to each of them the same remedy,
against the face of all the facts, and the clearest charge
which the judge had ever given, to the surprise of the
whole court, townsfolk, strangers, reporters, and all pres-
ent, without leaving the box, or any manner of consulta-
tion whatever, they brought in a simultaneous verdict of
"Not Guilty."
15. The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the!
manifest iniquity of the decision ; and when the court was
dismissed, went privily, and bought up all the pigs that
could be had for love or money. In a few days his lord-
ship's townhouse was observed to be on fire.
16. The thing took wing, and now there was nothing to
be seen but fire in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew
enormously dear all over the district. The insurance
offices one and all shut up shop. People built slighter and
slighter every day, until it was feared that the very science
of architecture would in no long time be lost to the world.
17. Thus this custom of firing houses continued till in
process of time, says my manuscript, a sage arose, like our
Locke, who made a discovery that the flesh of swine, or
indeed of any other animal, might be cooked (burnt, as they
called it) without the necessity of consuming a whole house
to dress it.
18. Then first began the rude form of a gridiron. Koast-
ing by the string or spit came in a century or two later ; I
forget in whose dynasty. By such slow degrees, concludes
the manuscript, do the most useful, and seemingly the
most obvious, arts make their way among mankind.
19. Without placing too implicit faith in the account
above given, it must be agreed that if a worthy pretext for
so dangerous an experiment as setting houses on fire (es-
pecially in these days) could be assigned in favor of any
culinary object that pretext and excuse might be found in
Roast Pig.
(6. 22.)
338 ECLECTIC SERIES.
DEFINITIONS. 3. Youn'kers, young persons. 4. An-te-di-lu'-
vi-an (literally, existing before the flood), very ancient. Make'shift,
that which answers a need with the best means at hand. 6. Pre-
mon'i-to-ry, giving previous warning. 8. Re-trib'u-to-ry, rewarding,
retaliating. 12. En-joined', ordered, commanded. 13. Ob-nox'-
ioiis (pro. ob-nok'shus), liable to censure, offensive. 18. Dy'nas-ty,
sovereignty, reign. 19. Iin-pltyit, trusting without doubt. Cu'li-na-ry,
relating to the kitchen.
NOTES. 1. Abyssinia is a country of eastern Africa.
2. Confucius (pro. -Con-f u'she-us ; the Chinese name is Kong-
fu-tse', pro. Kong-foot-sa') was a celebrated Chinese philosopher
(ft. 551 B.C.) who did much for the moral improvement of his
country.
The Golden Age was supposed to be that period in the various
stages of human civilization when the greatest simplicity existed ;
the fruits of the earth sprang up without cultivation,, and spring
was the only season.
13. Pekin is the capital of China.
An assize town is a town where the assizes, or periodical sittings
of a court, are held.
17. Locke (b. 1632, d. 1704) was one of the most illustrious of
English philosophers.
CXI. A PEN PICTURE.
William Black (&. 1841, - ) is one of the leading modern nov-
elists of England. The scenes of his stories are for the most part laid in
Scotland, and he excels in the delineation of Scotch character. But his
most remarkable power is seen in those vivid, poetical descriptions of
scenery, of which the following selection, adapted from " The Princess
of Thule," is a good example. Mr. Black's most noted works, in addition
to the one named, are : " A Daughter of Heth," " The Strange Adventures
of a Phaeton," " Kilmeny," and " McLeod of Dare."
1. LAVENDER had already transformed Sheila into a
heroine during the half hour of their stroll from the beach
FIFTH READER. 339
and around the house ; and as they sat at dinner on this
still, brilliant evening in summer, he clothed her in the
garments of romance.
2. Her father, with his great, gray beard and heavy
brow, became the King of Thule, living in this solitary
house overlooking the sea, and having memories of a dead
sweetheart. His daughter, the Princess, had the glamour
of a thousand legends dwelling in her beautiful eyes ; and
when she walked by the shores of the Atlantic, that were
now getting yellow under the sunset, what strange and
unutterable thoughts must appear in the wonder of her
face!
3. After dinner they went outside and sat down on a
bench in the garden. It was a cool and pleasant evening.
The sun had gone down in red fire behind the Atlantic,
and there was still left a rich glow of crimson in the west,
while overhead, in the pale yellow of the sky, some filmy
clouds of rose color lay motionless. How calm was the
sea out there, and the whiter stretch of water coming into
Loch Roag ! The cool air of the twilight was scented with
sweetbrier. The wash of the ripples along the coast could
be heard in the stillness.
4. The girl put her hand on her father's head, and re-
minded him that she had had her big greyhound, Bras,
imprisoned all the afternoon, and that she had to go down
to Borvabost with a message for some people who were
leaving by the boat in the morning.
" But you can not go away down to Borvabost by your-
self, Sheila," said Ingram. " It will be dark before you
return."
" It will not be darker than this all the night through,"
said the girl.
5. "But I hope you will let u& go with you," said
Lavender, rather anxiously ; and she assented with a gra-
cious smile, and went to fetch the great deerhound that
was her constant companion. And lo! he found himself
340 ECLECTIC SERIES.
walking with a Princess in this wonderland, through the
magic twilight that prevails in northern latitudes. Mac-
kenzie and Ingram had gone to the front. The large
deerhound, after regarding him attentively, had gone to
its mistress's side, and remained closely there.
6. Even Sheila, when they had reached the loftiest
part of their route, and could see beneath them the island
and the water surrounding it, was struck by the exceeding
beauty of the twilight ; and as for her companion, he re-
membered it many a time thereafter, as if it were a dream
of the sea.
7. Before them lay the Atlantic a pale line of blue,
still, silent, and remote. Overhead the sky was of a clear,
thin gold, with heavy masses of violet cloud stretched
across from north to south, and thickening as they got
near the horizon. Down at their feet, near the shore, a
dusky line of huts and houses was scarcely visible; and
over these lay a pale blue film, of peat smoke that did not
move in the still air.
8. Then they saw the bay into which the White Water
runs, and they could trace the yellow glimmer of the river
stretching into the island through a level valley of bog and
morass. Far away towards the east lay the bulk of the
island, dark green undulations of moorland and pasture ;
and there, in the darkness, the gable of one white house
had caught the clear light of the sky, and was gleaming {
westward like a star.
9. But all this was as nothing to the glory that began
to shine in the southeast, where the sky was of a pale violet
over the peaks of Mealasabhal and Suainabhal. There,
into the beautiful dome, rose the golden crescent of the
moon, warm in color, as though it still retained the last rays
of the sunset. A line of quivering gold fell across Loch
Koag, and touched the black hull and spars of the boat in
which Sheila had been sailing in the morning.
10. That bay down there, with its white sands and mass-
FIFTH READER. 341
ive rocks, its still expanse of water, and its background of
mountain peaks palely covered by the yellow moonlight,
seemed really a home for a magic princess who was shut
off from all the world. But here, in front of them, was
another sort of sea, and another sort of life, a small fish-
ing village hidden under a cloud of pale peat smoke, and
fronting the great waters of the Atlantic itself, which lay
under a gloom of violet clouds.
11. On the way home it was again Lavender's good
fortune to walk with Sheila across the moorland path they
had traversed some little time before. And now the moon
was still higher in the heavens, and the yellow lane of light
that crossed the violet waters of Loch Boag quivered in a
deeper gold. The night air was scented with the Dutch
clover growing down by the shore. They could hear the
curlew whistling and the plover calling amid that monoto-
nous plash of the waves that murmured all around the coast.
12. When they returned to the house, the darker waters
of the Atlantic and the purple clouds of the west were shut
out from sight ; and before them there was only the liquid
plain of Loch Roag, with its pathway of yellow fire, and
far away on the other side the shoulders and peaks of the
southern mountains, that had grown gray and clear and
sharp in the beautiful twilight. And this was Sheila's
home.
DEFINITIONS. 2. Gla'mpur (pro. gla'moor), witchery, or a
charm on the eyes, making them see things differently from what
they really are. 3. Loch (pro. 16k), a lake, a bay or arm of the
sea. 7. Peat, a kind of turf used for fuel. 11. Cur'Jew (pro.
kiir'lu), an aquatic bird which takes its name from its cry. Plov'er
(pro. pluv'er), a game bird frequenting river banks and the sea-
shore.
NOTES. Of the characters mentioned in this selection, Sheila
is a young Scotch girl living on the small island of Borva,
which her father owns: it lies just west of Lewie, one of the
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Hebrides. Ingram is an old friend and frequent visitor, while
Lavender, a friend of In gram's, is on his first visit to the
island.
2. TJiule {pro. Thu'le) is the name given by an ancient Greek
navigator, Pytheas, to the northernmost region of Europe. The
exact locality of Thule is a disputed point.
3. Loch Roag {pro. Rog) is an inlet of the sea, west of Lewis,
in which Borva is situated.
4. Borvabost, a little town of Borva. Bost means an inhabited
place.
9. Mealasabhal and Suainabhal are mountains on the island of
Lewis. Bhal is Gaelic for mountain.
CXII. THE GREAT VOICES.
Charles T. Brooks (6. 1813, d. 1833) was born at Salem, Mass., and
was the valedictorian of his class at Harvard College, where he graduated
in 1832. He shortly afterwards entered the ministry, and had charge of
a congregation at Newport, R.I. He was a great student of German liter-
ature, and began his own literary career by a translation of Schiller's
"William Tell." This was followed by numerous translations from the
German, mainly poetry, which have been published from time to time,
in several volumes. Of these translations, Goethe's "Faust," Richter's
" Titan " and " Hesperus," and a humorous poem by Dr. Karl Arnold
Kortum, " The Life, Opinions, Actions, and Fate of Hieronimus Jobs, the
Candidate," deserve especial mention. Mr. Brooks also published a num-
ber of original poems, addresses, etc.
1. A VOICE from the sea to the mountains,
From the mountains again to the sea;
A call from the deep to the fountains,
"0 spirit! be glad and be free."
2. A cry from the floods to the fountains;
And the torrents repeat the glad song
As they leap from the breast of the mountains,
"O spirit! be free and be strong."
fIFTH READER. 343
3. The pine forests thrill with emotion
Of praise, as the spirit sweeps by :
With a voice like the murmur of ocean
To the soul of the listener they cry.
4. Oh! sing, human heart, like the fountains,
With joy reverential and free,
Contented and calm as the mountains,
And deep as the woods and the sea.
. A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE.
Samuel Johnson (6. 1709, d. 1784). This remarkable man was born
in Lichfield, Staffordshire, England. He was the son of a bookseller
and stationer. He entered Pembroke College, Oxford, in 1728; but his
poverty compelled him to leave at the end of three years. Soon after
his marriage, in 1736, he opened a private school, but obtained only
three pupils, one of whom was David Garrick, afterwards a celebrated
actor. In 1737, he removed to London, where he resided most of the
rest of his life. The most noted of his numerous literary works are his
"Dictionary," the first one of the English language worthy of mention,
"The Vanity of Human "Wishes," a poem, "The Rambler," "Rasselas,"
" The Lives of the English Poets," and his edition of Shakespeare. An
annual pension of 300 was granted him in 1762.
In person, Johnson was heavy and awkward ; in manner, boorish and
overbearing ; but his learning and his great powers caused his company to
be sought by many eminent men.
1. OBIDAH, the son of Abnesina, left the caravansary
early in the morning, and pursued his journey through
the plains of Hindostan. He was fresh and vigorous with
rest ; he was animated with hope ; he was incited by de-
sire ; he walked swiftly forward over the valleys, and saw
the hills gradually rising before him.
2. As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the
morning song of the bird of paradise ; he was fanned by
the last nutters of the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with
dew by groves of spices; he sometimes contemplated the
844 ECLECTIC SERIES.
towering height of the oak, monarch of the hills; and
sometimes caught the gentle fragrance of the primrose,
eldest daughter of the spring ; all his senses were gratified,
and all care was banished from his heart.
3. Thus he went on, till the sun approached his merid-
ian, and the increasing heat preyed upon his strength ; he
then looked round about him for some more commodious
path. He saw, on his right hand, a grove that seemed to
wave its shades as a sign of invitation ; he entered it, and
found the coolness and verdure irresistibly pleasant. He
did not, however, forget whither he was traveling, but
found a narrow way, bordered with flowers, which ap-
peared to have the same direction with the main road,
and was pleased, that, by this happy experiment, he had
found means to unite pleasure with business, and to gain
the rewards of diligence without suffering its fatigues.
4. He, therefore, still continued to walk for a time,
without the least remission of his ardor, except that he
was sometimes tempted to stop by the music of the birds,
which the heat had assembled in the shade, and sometimes
amused himself with picking the flowers that covered the
banks on each side, or the fruits that hung upon the
branches. At last, the green path began to decline from
its first tendency, and to wind among the hills and thick-
ets, cooled with fountains, and murmuring with water-
falls.
5. Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to con-
sider whether it was longer safe to forsake the known and
common track; but, remembering that the heat was now
in its greatest violence, and that the plain was dusty and
uneven, he resolved to pursue the new path, which he
supposed only to make a few meanders, in compliance with
the varieties of the ground, and to end at last in the
common road.
6. Having thus calmed his solicitude, he renewed his
pace, though he suspected he was not gaining ground.
FIFTH READER. 346
This uneasiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on
every new object, and give way to every sensation that
might soothe or divert him. He listened to every echo,
he mounted every hill for a fresh prospect, he turned
aside to every cascade, and pleased himself with tracing
the course of a gentle river that rolled among the trees,
and watered a large region, with innumerable circumvolu-
tions.
7. In these amusements, the hours passed away un-
counted ; his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he
knew not toward what point to travel. He stood pensive
and confused, afraid to go forward lest he should go wrong,
yet conscious that the time of loitering was now past.
While he was thus tortured with uncertainty, the sky was
overspread with clouds, the day vanished from before him,
and a sudden tempest gathered round his head.
8. He was now roused by his danger to a quick and
painful remembrance of his folly ; he now saw how happi-
ness is lost when ease is consulted; he lamented the un-
manly impatience that prompted him to seek shelter in the
grove, and despised the petty curiosity that led him on
from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflecting, the air
grew blacker and a clap of thunder broke his meditation.
9. He now resolved to do what remained yet in his
power; to tread back the ground which he had passed,
and try to find some issue where the wood might open into
the plain. He prostrated himself upon the ground, and
commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rose with
confidence and tranquillity, and pressed on with his saber
in his hand ; for the beasts of the desert were in motion,
and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage,
and fear, and ravage, and expiration; all the horrors of
darkness and solitude surrounded him ; the winds roared in
the woods, and the torrents tumbled from the hills.
10. Thus, forlorn and distressed, he wandered through
the wild without knowing whither he was going or whether
#46 ECLECTIC SERIES.
he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to de-
struction. At length, not fear but labor began to over-
come him ; his breath grew short, and his knees trembled^
and he was on the point of lying down, in resignation to
his fate, when he beheld, through the brambles, the glim-
mer of a taper. He advanced toward the light, and find-
ing that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he
called humbly at the door, and obtained admission. The
old man set before him such provisions as he had collected
for himself, on which Obidah fed with eagerness and grat-
itude.
11. When the repast was over, "Tell me," said the
hermit, "by what chance thou hast been brought hither;
I have been now twenty years an inhabitant of this wilder-
ness, in which I never saw a man before." Obidah then
related the occurrences of his journey, without any conceal-
ment or palliation.
12. " Son," said the hermit, " let the errors and follies,
the dangers and escapes, of this day, sink deep into your
heart. Bern ember, my son, that human life is the journey
of a day. We rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor,
and full of expectation; we set forward with spirit and
hope, with gayety and with diligence, and travel on awhile
in the straight road of piety toward the mansions of rest.
In a short time we remit our fervor, and endeavor to find
some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means of
obtaining the same end.
13. " We then relax our vigor, and resolve no longer to
be terrified with crimes at a distance, but rely upon our
own constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve
never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, and
repose in the shades of security. Here the heart softens,
and vigilance subsides; we are then willing to inquire
whether another advance can not be made, and whether we
may not at least turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleas-
ure. We approach them with scruple and hesitation; we
FIFTH READER. 347
enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always
hope to pass through them without losing the road of
virtue, which we for a while keep in our sight, and to
which we propose to return.
14. " But temptation succeeds temptation, and one com-
pliance prepares us for another ; we, in time, lose the hap-
piness of innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual
gratifications. By degrees we let fall the remembrance of
our original intention, and quit the only adequate object of
rational desire. We entangle ourselves in business, im-
merge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths
of inconstancy till the darkness of old age begins to invade
us, and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We then
look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, and
with repentance ; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that
we had not forsaken the paths of virtue.
15. "Happy are they, my son, who shall learn, from
thy example, not to despair, but shall remember that
though the day is past, and their strength is wasted, there
yet remains one effort to be made; that reformation is
never hopeless, nor sincere endeavors ever unassisted ; that
the wanderer may at length return after all his errors;
and that he who implores strength and courage from above,
shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Go
now, my son, to thy repose : commit thyself to the care of
Omnipotence; and when the morning calls again to toil,
begin anew thy journey and thy life."
DEFINITIONS. 1. Car-a-van sa-ry, a kind of inn in the East,
where caravans (or large companies of traders') rest at night. 5. Me-
an'derg, windings, turnings. 6. Cir-eum-vo-lu'tions, windings or
flowings around. 7. De-vi-a'tions, wanderings from one's course.
9. Ex-pi-ra'tion, death. 11. Pal-li-a'tion, concealment of the most
blamable circumstances of an offense. 12. Mit-i-ga'tion, abatement,
the act of rendering less severe. 14. Ad'e-quate, fully sufficient.
Lab'y-rlnth, a place full of winding passages.
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CXIV. A SUMMER LONGING.
George Arnold (&. 1834, d. 1865) was born in New York, but removed
with his parents to Illinois while yet an infant. There he passed his
boyhood, being educated at home by his parents. In 1849 the family
again removed to Strawberry Farms, Monmouth County, N.J. When
eighteen years old he began to study painting, but soon gave up the art
and devoted himself to literature. He became a journalist of New York
City, and his productions include almost every variety of writings found
in the literary magazines. After his death, two volumes of his poems,
"Drift: a Seashore Idyl," and "Poems, Grave and Gay," were edited
by Mr. William Winter.
1. I MUST away to the wooded hills and vales,
Where broad, slow streams flow cool and silently
And idle barges flap their listless sails.
For me the summer sunset glows and pales,
And green fields wait for me.
2. I long for shadowy founts, where tho birds
Twitter and chirp at noon from every tree;
I long for blossomed leaves and lowing herds;
And Nature's voices say in mystic words,
u The green fields wait for thee."
3. I dream of uplands, where the primrose shines
And waves her yellow lamps above the lea;
Of tangled copses, swung with trailing vines;
Of open vistas, skirted with tall pines,
Where green fields wait for me.
4. I think of long, sweet afternoons, when I
May lie and listen to the distant sea,
Or hear the breezes in the reeds that sigh,
Or insect voices chirping shrill and dry,
In fields that wait for me.
FIFTH READER. 349
5. These dreams of summer come to bid me find
The forest's shade, the wild bird's melody,
While summer's rosy wreaths for me are twined,
While summer's fragrance lingers on the wind,
And green fields wait for me.
CXV. FATE.
Francis Bret Harte (&. 1839, ) was born in Albany, N.Y.
When seventeen years old he went to California, where he engaged in
various employments. He was a teacher, was employed in government
offices, worked in the gold mines, and learned to be a compositor in a
printing office. In 1868 he started the " Overland Monthly," and his
original and characteristic poems and sketches soon made it a popular
magazine. Mr. Harte has been a contributor to some of the leading
periodicals of the country, but principally to the "Atlantic Monthly."
1. "THE sky is clouded, the rocks are bare;
The spray of the tempest is white in air;
The winds are out with the waves at play,
And I shall not tempt the sea to-day.
2. "The trail is narrow, the wood is dim,
The panther clings to the arching limb;
And the lion's whelps are abroad at play,
And I shall not join in the chase to-day."
3. But the ship sailed safely over the sea,
And the hunters came from the chase in glee;
And the town that was builded upon a rock
Was swallowed up in the earthquake shock.
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CXVI. THE BIBLE THE BEST OF CLASSICS.
Thomas S. GrimkS (&. 1786, d. 1834). This eminent lawyer and
scholar was born in Charleston, S.C. He graduated at Yale College in
1807. He gained considerable reputation as a politician, but is best
known as an advocate of peace, Sunday schools, and the Bible. He was
a man of deep feeling, earnest purpose, and pure life.
1. THERE is a classic, the best the world has ever seen,
the noblest that has ever honored and dignified the lan-
guage of mortals. If we look into its antiquity, we dis-
cover a title to our veneration unrivaled in the history of
literature. If we have respect to its evidences, they are
found in the testimony of miracle and prophecy; in the
ministry of man, of nature, and of angels, yea, even of
"God, manifest in the flesh," of "God blessed forever."
2. If we consider its authenticity, no other pages have
survived the lapse of time that can be compared with it.
If we examine its authority, for it speaks as never man
spake, we discover that it came from heaven in vision and
prophecy under the sanction of Him who is Creator of all
things, and the Giver of every good and perfect gift.
3. If we reflect on its truths, they are lovely and spot-
less, sublime and holy as God himself, unchangeable as his
nature, durable as his righteous dominion, and versatile as
the moral condition of mankind. If we regard the value
of its treasures, we must estimate them, not like the relics
of classic antiquity, by the perishable glory and beauty,
virtue and happiness, of this world, but by the enduring
perfection and supreme felicity of an eternal kingdom.
4. If we inquire who are the men that have recorded its
truths, vindicated its rights, and illustrated the excellence
of its scheme, from the depth of ages and from the living
world, from the populous continent and the isles of the sea,
comes forth the answer : " The patriarch and the prophet,
the evangelist and the martyr."
5. If we look abroad through the world of men, the
victims of folly or vice, the prey of cruelty, of injustice,
FIFTH READER. 351
and inquire what are its benefits, even in this temporal
state, the great and the humble, the rich and the poor,
the powerful and the weak, the learned and the ignorant
reply, as with one voice, that humility and resignation,
purity, order, and peace, faith, hope, and charity are its
blessings upon earth.
6. And if, raising our eyes from time to eternity ; from
the world of mortals to the world of just men made per-
fect; from the visible creation, marvelous, beautiful, and
glorious as it is, to the invisible creation of angels and
seraphs; from the footstool of God to the throne of God
himself, we ask, what are the blessings that flow from this
single volume, let the question be answered by the pen of
the evangelist, the harp of the prophet, and the records of
the book of life.
7. Such is the best of classics the world has ever ad-
mired ; such, the noblest that man has ever adopted as a
guide.
DEFINITIONS. 1. -Clas'sie, a work of acknowledged excellence
and authority. 2. Au-then-t^'i-ty, of established authority for truth
and correctness. Sane'tion (pro. sank'shun), authority, support.
3. Ver'sa-tile, readily applied to various subjects. 4. Vln di-eat-ed,
defended, justified. E-van' gel-is t, a writer of the history of Jesus
Christ. 6. Ser'aph, an angel of the highest order.
CXVII. MY MOTHER'S BIBLE.
George P. Morris (6. 1802, d. 1864) was born in Philadelphia. In
1823 he became one of the editors of the " New York Mirror," a weekly
literary paper. In 1846 Mr. Morris and N. P. Willis founded " The Home
Journal." He was associate editor of this popular journal until a short
time before his death.
1. THIS book is all that's left me now,
Tears will unbidden start,
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
I press it to my heart.
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For many generations past
Here is our family tree;
My mother's hands this Bible clasped,
She, dying, gave it me.
2. Ah! well do I remember those
Whose names these records bear;
"Who round the hearthstone used to close,
After the evening prayer,
And speak of what these pages said
In tones my heart would thrill !
Though they are with the silent dead,
Here are they living still!
3. My father read this holy book
To brothers, sisters, dear;
How calm was my poor mother's look,
Who loved God's word to hear!
Her angel face, I see it yet!
What thronging memories come!
Again that little group is met
Within the walls of home!
4. Thou truest friend man ever knew,
Thy constancy I've tried;
When all were false, I found thee true,
My counselor and guide.
The mines of earth no treasures give
That could this volume buy;
In teaching me the way to live,
It taught me how to die.