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TO THE TEACHER 
 
 Wb take occasion to repeat here some of the introductory remarks contained in the 
 Third Reader. 
 
 I. We suggest that the reading-class should repeatedly go through with the " Elements 
 of Elocution," not only by reading aloud the examples, hut by selecting daily, at the be- 
 ginning or close of each reading exercise, and from whatever sources they choose, exam- 
 ples illustrating some one Rule or Note. 
 
 II. As the more difficult words in each reading lesson are defined at its close, and in 
 that particular sense in which they are used in the passages referred to^ these definitions 
 may be made to contribute greatly to a correct knowledge of the lesson read. To this 
 end the lesson should always be studied in advance by the pupil, who, after reading a 
 verse, should explain these more difficult words by substituting in their places either the 
 definitions given, or such terms of his own selection as may answer the same purpose. 
 The benefits of this defining exercise to pupils in this stage of advancement will not be 
 inconsiderable ; for, besides contributing to a better knowledge of the lessons read, it 
 will cultivate a habit of reading understandingly, and also call particular attention to 
 the meaning of nearly a thousand individual words in this Reader alone. 
 
 III. In the words defined, particular attention should be paid to their correct aeceniu- 
 ation^ and also to the correct sounds of the letters^ as designated by the accompanying 
 marks, which are explained by the Pronouncing Key on p^ge 14 The pupil should bo 
 required to give the authority for the pronunciation of all the more difficult or uncom- 
 mon words defined by reference to the Key ; thus, Xecu'-Ttes, " Italian sound of d, as 
 in fdr^ father; € hard, like k; l long ; and soft $, like z." This will compel a familiar- 
 ity with the Key, and train the ear to nice distinctions of sounds, indispensable requi- 
 sites in securing a cultivated elocutionary taste. 
 
 IV. As Part V., entitled Natural Philosophy, should be studied more than other 
 portions of the book, we recommend to the teacher to require the class, when beginning 
 this Reader, to read one lesson each week in Part V. , and to study the lesson previously 
 with considerable attention. A second reading, when the class comes to this Part in 
 regular order, will be a profitable review. 
 
 A '■ 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred 
 
 and sixty, by 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 
 !n tho Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. 
 
 GIFT 
 
1^4 
 W74s^ 
 
 P E E F A C E. Y^ 
 E-dxuO 
 
 In this Fourth Reader, the leading /»/«>* of the "School and Family C 
 
 Readers," which is that of combining useful knowledge with instruction in 
 reading, is more fully developed than in the Third Reader ; and from the 
 manner in which some of the departments of Natural Science are here 
 treated, teachers may judge whether the plan is feasible or not, and how it 
 will be likely to succeed when extended to the subjects embraced in the re- 
 maining threer numbers of the series. 
 
 Teachers will observe that, while we have aimed to make the several di- 
 visions, or "Parts," in this Reader as instructive as possible, we have not 
 lost sight of the importance of making them intei-esting also ; and to this 
 end we have introduced great variety in matter and manner, and illustra- 
 tions which are valuable lessons in themselves. 
 
 For the sake of that regular gradation which is highly essential in School 
 Readers, and to avoid introducing too much on any one subject in the same 
 book, we have made two divisions each of Human Physiology, Botany, and 
 Natural Philosophy, and have given only the first and easier portion of each 
 subject in the present Reader. The second divisions will be contained in 
 the Fifth Reader. 
 
 Zoology is here continued in the division entitled Ornithology^ or Birds. 
 For the beautiful illustrations in this part we are indebted to the same art- 
 ist (Parsons) to whom we expressed our obligations for the admirable draw- 
 ings of animals in the Third Reader. 
 
 In Part IV., "Miscellaneous," we have given a few old standard pieces, 
 because they are unsurpassed in merit, will be new to every succeeding 
 generation, and have no superiors as reading exercises. 
 
 Part VL, entitled "Sketches from Sacred History," partially develops 
 the plan which will be pursued in the Historical divisions of the Fifth, 
 Sixth, and Seventh Readers. 
 
 I am indebted for valuable aid in the departments of Botany and Natu- 
 ral Philosophy to Professor N. B. Webster, of Virginia, by whom portions 
 of those divisions and some original and very happy illustrations of philo- 
 sophical principles were furnished. 
 
 In submitting to the public the Primer and first four Readers of the 
 series, the undersigned begs to assure teachers who may adopt the portion 
 now published that the preparation of the remaining three numbers is al- 
 ready considerably advanced, and that they will be issued without unneces- 
 sary delay. M. Willson. 
 New York, May 1st, 18G0. 
 
 ■4 < o 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pftee 
 
 Elements of Elocution T 
 
 Key to the Sounds of the Letters 14 
 
 PART I. 
 
 HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 Lesson 
 
 L The Frame-work of the Human Body 15 
 
 n. The Bones, and the Injuries to which they are liable 19 
 
 ni. Organs that move the Body — The Muscles ^ 21 
 
 rV. Muscular Exercise and Mental Stimulus 26 
 
 V. Organs that prepare Nourishment for the"Body » 29 
 
 VI. The Best Cosmetics* 34 
 
 Vn. Abuses of the Digestive Organs— Laws of their Healthy Action 85 
 
 Vm. The Fable of the Two Bees 38 
 
 IX. The Complaint of a Stomach ^.., 39 
 
 X. Comaro the Italian 42 
 
 XL Advantages of Temperance in Diet 44 
 
 Xn. The Confession 47 
 
 Xin. The Organs of Circulation and of Respiration 48 
 
 XTV. A Hymn. Air and Exercise 52 
 
 XV. Abuses of the Lungs 53 
 
 XVI. The Skin — its complicated Mechanism 59 
 
 XVn. Growth and Decay— Life and Death 63 
 
 XVHL Abuses of the Skin 66 
 
 XIX. The Years of Alan's Life 68 
 
 XX. Health— a Letter to Mothers 69 
 
 XXI. Rest and Sleep 71 
 
 XXn. Early Rising. Extracts from Thomson and Hurdis 74 
 
 XXIII. The Old Cottage Clack 75 
 
 XXIV. Health Proverbs 76 
 
 PART II. 
 
 ORNITHOLOGY, OR THE NATURAL HISTORY OF BIRDS. 
 
 I. Birds.— Feet of Birds— Heads— JVes«s 77 
 
 IL Birds 82 
 
 m. L BIRDS OF PREY The Faloon Teibb 84 
 
 IV. Habits of the Eagle 90 
 
 V. Tlie Osprey^ or Sea Eagle 93 
 
 VI. The American Eagle 95 
 
 VIL Vultures and Owls 96 
 
 vm. Song of the OiDl 99 
 
 IX. IL PERCHING OR SINGING-BIRDS: 101 
 
 1. The TooTnED-BiLLS 101 
 
 X. The Mocking-bird 104 
 
 XI. The Bluebird. Wilson's Description of 106 
 
 Xn. 2. TnK Clkft-uills 108 
 
 Xin, The Folds of the Air shall 'Teach thee 113 
 
 XIV. The Swallow Party 113 
 
 XV. The Swallows 116 
 
 XVI. 3. The Cone-hills 118 
 
 XVn. The Snowbird. Miss GoulfVs Description of. 122 
 
 XVIII. The Song-Himrrow. Pickcrimfa Description of 124 
 
 XIX. The English Skiflark 126 
 
 XX- The Lark and the Rook 127 
 
 XXI. Birds in Summer 128 
 
 XXn. 4. The TniN-imxs. Humming-birds^ etc 129 
 
 * Those designatod \>y italics are in Poetry. 
 
CONTENTS. V 
 
 Lesson Page 
 
 XXm. m. CLIMBEES. Toucans, Lories, Parrots, Wrens, etc 133 
 
 XXIV. Parrots. CampbelVs Description of 13G 
 
 XXV. The Cuckoo arid, the Swallow 138 
 
 The Cuckoo 139 
 
 XXVI. IV. SCRATCHERS, OR POULTRY-BIRDS. Pheasants, Doves 140 
 
 XXVn. The Citii Dove 145 
 
 XXVIIL V. THE RUNNERS, Ostriches, Bustards, etc 146 
 
 XXIX. VL THE WADERS. SpoonbiUs, Cranes, Flamingoes, Herons, Storks . . 149 
 
 XXX. VH. THE SWIMMERS. Penguins, Auks, Pelicans, Ducks, Gulls, Swans 154 
 
 XXXI. The Harmony of Nature 159 
 
 XXXIL Birds of the Sea 160 
 
 XXXIII. The Stormy Petrel 161 
 
 XXXIV. To a Water-fowl. Birds of Passage by Night 162 
 
 XXXV. What is that. Mother ? 164 
 
 XXXVI. The Birds of Heaven 165 
 
 XXX VIL Questions to the Birds, and their Answers 166 
 
 XXXVin. A South-Sea Rookery tC3 
 
 PART III. 
 
 VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 
 
 I. The Vegetable Kingdom 171 
 
 II. Introductory View of Botany 174 
 
 ni. The Elementary Parts of Plants— Cell Life 178 
 
 IV. The Roots of Plants. Planting 182 
 
 V. Changes produced by Cultivation 185 
 
 VL The Stems of Plants. The Baobab, Cactus 186 
 
 VH. The Banyan-tree 191 
 
 VHI. The Leaves of Plants 192 
 
 IX. The Angel of the Leaves ; an Allegory 198 
 
 X. Poetical Imagery derived from the Vegetable World 202 
 
 XL The Last Leaf 205 
 
 XIL The Food of Plants 207 
 
 XIH. The Mysteries of Vegetation 210 
 
 XIV. Plants, the Lungs of Cities 211 
 
 XV. Buds— Budding, Grafting, etc 213 
 
 XVI. Leaf Arrangement 214 
 
 XVH. Vegetable Reproduction — Flowers 21T 
 
 XVin.- Hymn to the Flowers 221 
 
 XIX. Vegetable Reproduction— conimttcd. Stamens, Pistil, Fruit, Seeds 223 
 
 XX. Flowers, the Stars of Earth -, 227 
 
 XXI. Dispersion of Seeds 229 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 I. Better than Diamonds 231 
 
 II. Alram, and Zimri 234 
 
 IIL Sorrow for the Dead 236 
 
 IV. Forgive and Forget 239 
 
 V. Cleonandl 240 
 
 VI. Spectacles, or Helps to Read 241 
 
 VIL The May Queen 242 
 
 VIH. The Bishop and the King 246 
 
 IX. Consider both Sides of a Question 246 
 
 X. The Chameleon 243 
 
 XL We are Seven 250 
 
 Xn. On Good-breeding 252 
 
 XIH. The Heritage 254 
 
 XIV. Schemes of Life often Illusory 256 
 
 XV. A Psalm of Life 259 
 
 XVr. Practical Precepts 260 
 
 XVIL The Inquiry 261 
 
 XVHL The Hour of Prayer. Prayer 203 
 
 XIX. The Three Sons 264 
 
 XX. The Blind Preacher 266 
 
 XXL Father William 268 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 Lesson P«ge 
 
 XXII. John Littlejohn 209 
 
 XXUI, The Vision of Mirza 2T0 
 
 XXIV. Christ's Second Coming 2T5 
 
 PART V. 
 
 NATURAL PUILOSOPHY. 
 
 I. The School at Glenwild 276 
 
 II. The Volunteer Philosophy Class 280 
 
 III. The Properties of Matter 283 
 
 IV. The Properties of Matter — continued 288 
 
 V. Motion and its I^ws 293 
 
 VI. Gravity, and Falling Bodies 800 
 
 VII. Mechanical Powers 309 
 
 VIII. Mechanical Powers — continued 320 
 
 IX. Miscellaneous Mechanical Matters 325 
 
 PART YI. 
 
 SKETCHEJS FROM SACRED IHSTORY. 
 
 I. The Curse of Cain 333 
 
 The Curse of Cain 333 
 
 II. Hagar in the Wilderness 384 
 
 Hagar and Ishmael 335 
 
 III. The Passage of the Red Sea 33T 
 
 Overthroio of the Philistines 338 
 
 IV. Israel under the Judges 339 
 
 Jejyhthah's Dawjhter 340 
 
 V. Ruth and Naomi 342 
 
 Ruth 2>leadinff with Is'aomi 843 
 
 VL The Reign of David 344 
 
 David's Lament for A bsalom 345 
 
 VII. The Kingdom of Israel 347 
 
 Elijah^ s Intervieiv ivith God 348 
 
 VIII. The Kingdom of Judah 349 
 
 Destruction of Sennacherib 360 
 
 IX. Advent of the Messiah 351 
 
 The Nativity 352 
 
 X. The Miracles of the Savior 353 
 
 1 . The Leper 353 
 
 2. The Widow of Nain 355 
 
 3. The Healing of the Daughter qf Jairus 35S 
 
 XI. The Crucifixion 360 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Rule I. — Direct questions, or those that can be answered 
 by yes or no, generally require the rising inflection, and their 
 answers the falling. 
 
 Examples.— Do you think he will come to-day' ? No^ ; I think he will not\— -Was that 
 
 Henry'? No'; it was John' Did you see William'? Yes',! did'.— Are you going to 
 
 town to-day' ? No', I shall go to-morrow'. 
 
 MODIFICATIONS OF RULE I. 
 
 Note I. — Answers that are given in a careless or indifferent manner, or 
 in a tone of slight disrespect, take the rising inflection in all cases. 
 
 Examples Did you see William'? I did'.— What did he say to you'? Not much'. 
 
 See, also, Lesson H., p. 39, of Second Reader. 
 
 Note II. — Direct questions, when they have the nature of an appeal, or 
 are spoken in an exclamatory manner, take the falling inflection. In these 
 cases the voice often falls beloio the general pitch, contrary to the general 
 rule for the falling inflection. 
 
 Examples. — Is not that a beautiful sight' ? — Will you persist in doing it^ ?— Is it right' ? 
 —Is it just' ? 
 
 Was ever woman in this humor wooed' ? 
 Was ever woman in this humor won' ? 
 
 Note III. — When a direct question is not understood, and is repeated 
 with emphasis, the repeated question takes the falling inflection. 
 
 Examples. — Will you speak to him to-day'? Kthe question is not understood, it is 
 repeated with the falling inflection, thus : Will you speak to him to-day' ?— Are you going 
 to Salem'? I said, Are you going to Salem' ? 
 
 Rule II. — The pause of suspe7ision, denoting that the 
 sense is unfinished, such as a succession of particulars that 
 are not emphatic, cases of direct address, sentences implying 
 condition, the case absolute, etc., generally requires the ris- 
 ing inflection. 
 
 Examples. — John', James', and William', come here.— The great', the good', the hon- 
 ored', the noble', the wealthy', alike pass away. 
 
 Friends', Romans', countrymen', lend me your ears. 
 
 Jesus saith unto him, Simon', son of Jonas', lovest thou me'? 
 
8 ELEMENTS OP ELOCUTION. 
 
 Ye hills', and dales', ye rivers', woods', and plains', 
 And ye that live and move, fair creatures', teir, 
 Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus^ ; how here^ ? 
 
 Note. — For cases in which emphatic succession of particulars modifies 
 this rule, see Rule VIII. 
 
 Rule III. — Indirect questions, or those which can not be 
 answered by yes or no, generally require the falling inflec- 
 tion, and their answers the same. 
 
 Examples. — When did you see him^ ? Yesterday\ — Wlien will he come again^ ? To- 
 morrow \ 
 
 Who say the people that I am^? They answering, said, John the Baptist^; but some 
 say Elias\' and others say that one of the old prophets^ is risen again. 
 
 Note. — But when the indirect question is one asking a repetition of what 
 was not at first understood, it takes the rising inflection. " What did he 
 say^ ?" is an indirect question, with the falling inflection, asking for inform- 
 ation. But if I myself heard the person speak, and did not fully under- 
 stand him, and then ask some person to repeat what he said, I give my 
 question the rising inflection, thus, " Whai" did he say'?" (Remark. — 
 Perhaps the true reason of the rising inflection here on the word say is 
 because it is preceded by an emphatic word (what) with the falling inflec- 
 tion. See note to Rule IV.) 
 
 Rule IV. — A completion of the sense, whether at the 
 close or any other part of the sentence, requires the falling 
 inflection. 
 
 Examples.— He that saw me' saw you also\ and he who aided me once' will aid me 
 again\ 
 
 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth\ And the earth was without 
 form, and void^ ; and darkness was on the face of the deep^ : and the spirit of God moved 
 upon the face of the waters\ 
 
 Note. — ^But when strong emphasis, with the falling inflection, comes 
 near the close of a sentence, the voice often takes the rising inflection at 
 the close. 
 
 Examples. — If William does not come, I think John"^ will be here'.— If he should come, 
 tfl/tar would you do' ? 
 
 CASSiua Wliat night is this? 
 
 Casca. a very pleasing night to honcsf^ men'. 
 
 Proceed''^ I am attentive'. 
 
 This is the course rather of our enemies, than of friends'^ of our country's liberty'. 
 
 If the witness does not believe in God, or a future state, you can not swear^ him'. 
 
 Rule V. — ^Words and clauses connected by the disjunctive 
 or, generally require the rising inflection before the disjunct- 
 ive, and the falling after it. Where several words are thus 
 
ELEMENTS OP ELOCUTION. 9 
 
 connected in the same clause^ the rising inflection is given to 
 all except the last. 
 
 Examples. — "Will you go' or stay^ ? I •wdU go\ — Will you go in the buggy', or the car- 
 riage', or the cars', or the coach^ ? I will go in the cars\ 
 He may study law', or medicine', or divinity^ ; or% he may enter into trade\ 
 The baptism of John, was it from heaven', or of men^ ? 
 Did he travel for health', or for pleasure^ ? 
 Did he resemble his father', or his mother^ ? 
 
 Note I. — When the disjunctive or is made emphatic, with the falling 
 inflection, it is followed by the rising inflection, in accordance with the 
 note to Eule IV.; as, "He must have traveled for health, or^ pleas- 
 ure'." 
 
 Examples. — He must either worK^^ or'' study'. — He must be a mechanic^ or^ a lawyer'. 
 — He must get his living in one way, or'' the other'. 
 
 Note II. — When or is used conjunctively, as no contrast is denoted by 
 it, it requires the rising inflection after as well as before it, except when 
 the clause or sentence expresses a completion of the sense. 
 Examples. — Did he give you money', or food', or clothing' ? No\ he gave me nothing^. 
 
 Rule VI. — When negation is opposed to affirmation, the 
 former takes the rising and the latter the falling inflection, in 
 whatever order they occur. Comparison and contrast (an- 
 tithesis) come under the same head. 
 
 Examples.— I did not hear him', I saw him\ — I said he was a good soldier\ not^ a good 
 
 citizen'.— He will not come to-day', but to-mon'ow^ He did not call me', but you\ — He 
 
 means dutiful\ not undutiful'. — I come to biiry Caesar \ not to praise him'. 
 
 This is no time for a tribunal of justice', but for showing mercy ^; not for accusation', 
 but for philanthropy^ ; not for trial', but for pardon^ ; not for sentence and execution', 
 but for compassion and kindness\ 
 
 Comparison and Contrast.— Homer was the greater genius', Virgil the better artist^; 
 in the one we most admire the man', in the other the work\ — There were tyrants at 
 home', and robbers abroad \ 
 
 By honor' and dishonor^ ; by evil report' and good report^ ; as deceivers', and yet true^ ; 
 as unknown', and yet well known^ ; as dying', and behold we live^ ; as chastened', and 
 not killed^; as sorrowful', yet always rejoicing^; as poor', yet making many rich\* as 
 having nothing', yet possessing all things\ 
 
 When our vices leave ms', we flatter ourselves we leave them\ 
 
 The prodigal robs his heir'^ the miser robs himself \ 
 
 Note I. — Negative sentences which imply a continuance of thought, al- 
 though they may not be opposed to affirmation, frequently close with the 
 rising inflection ; as, 
 
 True politeness is not a mere compliance with arbitrary custom'. 
 
 Do not suppose that I would deceive you'. 
 
 These things do not make your government'. 
 
 This is nearly allied in character to Eule IX. ; and such examples as 
 those under Note I. may be considered as expressive of tender emotion, in 
 opposition to stro7i<]/ emotion. Affirmative sentences similar to the fore- 
 
 A2 
 
10 ' ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 going require the rising inflection, in accordance with Rule IX., when 
 they express tender emotion ; as, 
 
 I trust you will hear me'. I am sure you are mistaken'. 
 
 But, sir, the poor must not starve' ; they must be taken care or. 
 
 Note II. — When, in contrasted sentences, negation is attended with 
 deep and calm feeling, it requires the falling inflection. 
 EIXAMPLE.— We are perplexed', but not in despair^ ; persecuted', but not forsaken\ 
 
 Rule VII. — For the sake of variety and harmony, the last 
 pause but one in a sentence is usually preceded by the rising 
 inflection. 
 
 Examples.— Tlie minor longs to be of age^; then to be a man of business^; then to ar- 
 rive at honors' ; then to retire\ 
 Time taxes our health', our limbs', our faculties', our strength', and our features\ 
 
 Note. — The foregoing rule is sometimes departed from in the case of 
 an emphatic succession of particulars, for which, see Rule VIII. 
 
 In the second example above, the rising inflection is given to the 
 words healthy limbs, etc., both because they are not attended with strong 
 emphasis, and because they are followed by the pause of suspension. 
 
 Rule VIII. — Is^. A Commencing Series. 
 
 In an emphatic series of parties dars^ where the series be- 
 gins the sentence, but does not either end it or form com- 
 plete sense, every particular except the last should have the 
 falling inflection. 
 
 Example. — Our disordered hearts\ our guilty pas3ion8\ our violent prejudices^ and 
 misplaced desires', are the instruments of the trouble which we endure. 
 
 2d. A Concluding Series. 
 When the series ends the sentence, or forms complete 
 sense, every particular in the series, except the last hut one., 
 should have the falling inflection ; and, indeed, all should have 
 it, if the closing member of the series is of suflicient length 
 to admit a pause with the I'ising inflection, before the end. 
 
 Example. — Charity suffereth long', and is kind^ ; charity C7imeth not' , charity vaunt- 
 cth not itself*; is not puffed up*; doth not behave itself unseemly^; seeketh not her 
 ow»n\* is not e&Hily provoked' ; thinketh no eviV. 
 
 Note. — The degree of emphasis, and often of solemnity, with which the 
 successive particulai*s are mentioned, decides, in cases of the pause of sus- 
 pension (see Rule II.), whether the rising or the falling inflection is to be 
 used. Thus, a succession of particulars which one reader deems unimpor- 
 tant, will be read by him throughout with the rising inflection, while an- 
 other, feeling more derply, will use the falling inflection. Thus: 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 11 
 
 1. Tlie birds sing', the Iambs play', the grass grows', the trees are green', and all na- 
 tare is beautifuP. 
 
 2. The blind see^; the lame walk^; the lepers are cleansed^; the deaf hear^ ; the dead 
 are raised^ ; and to the poor' the gospel is preached\ 
 
 In this example all the particulars have the falling inflection. 
 
 The first line in Mark Antony's harangue is read differently by equally 
 good readers ; but the difference arises wholly from their different appre- 
 ciation of the spirit and intention of the speaker. Thus : 
 
 Friends', Komans', countrymen', lend me your earsM 
 Friends', Romans', countrymen''^ lend me your ears^ ! 
 
 If Antony designed to characterize " countrymen" with peculiar empha- 
 sis, he gave it the falling inflection, otherwise he gave the word no greater 
 prominence than the preceding words "friends" and "Romans." 
 
 Rule IX. — Expressions of tender emotion, such as grief, 
 pity, kindness, gentle joy, a gentle reproof, gentle appeal, 
 gentle entreaty or expostulation, etc., commonly require a 
 gentle risiiig inflection. 
 
 Examples. — Mary' ! Mary' ! do^ not do so'. 
 
 My mother'! when I learned that thou wast dead', 
 
 Say\ wast thou conscious' of the tears' I shed' ? 
 
 Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son'. 
 
 Wretch even then', life's journey just begun'? 
 
 I would not live alway'; I ask not to stay. 
 
 Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way' ; 
 
 I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin' ; 
 
 Temptation without, and corruption within';— 
 Is your father' well', the old man of whom ye spake" ? Is he' yet alive' ? 
 
 Rule X. — Expressions of strong emotion, such as the lan- 
 guage of exclamation (not designed as a question), authority, 
 surprise, distress, denunciation, lamentation, earnest entreaty, 
 command, reproach, terror, anger, hatred, envy, revenge, etc., 
 and strong affirmation, require the falling inflection. 
 
 Examples.— What a piece of work is manM How noble in reasonM how infinite in 
 faculties^ ! in action', how like ah anger ! in apprehension', how like a God^ I 
 
 My lords, I am amazed^ ; yes, my lords, 1 am amazed'^ at his Grace's speech. 
 
 Woe unto you Pharisees^ ! Woe unto you Scribes^ ! 
 
 You blocks\ you 8tones\ you worse than senseless things^ ! 
 
 Go to the ant\ thou sluggard^ ; consider her ways, and be wise\ 
 
 Jesus saith unto her, Mary'. She turned herself, and said unto him, RabbonP. 
 
 I tell you, though ?/om\ though all the worW^ though an angel from heaven'' should de- 
 clare the truth of it, I could not believe it. 
 
 I dare'' accusation. I defy^ the honorable gentleman. 
 
 I'd rather be a dog''^ and bay the woon", than such a Roman'. 
 
12 ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Cab. O ye gods^ I ye gods"^ I must I endure all this' ? 
 liKtr. All this? ay\ and viore\ 
 
 Note. — When exclamatory sentences become questions they require the 
 rising inflection. 
 Examples. — What are you saying' \— Where are you going'! 
 They planted by your care' ! No^ ! your oppressions planted them in America\ 
 
 THE CIRCUMFLEX OK WAYE. 
 
 Rule XI. — Hypothetical expressions, sarcasm, and irony, 
 and sentences im2)li/in(/ a comparison or contrast that is not 
 fully expressed, often require a union of the two inflections 
 on the same syllable. 
 
 Explanation. — In addition to the rising and falling inflections, there 
 is what is called the ci7'cumjiex or wave, which is a union of the two on the 
 same syllable. It is a significant twisting or waving of the voice, generally 
 first downward and then upward, but sometimes the reverse, and is at- 
 tended with a sensible protraction of sound on the syllable thus inflected. 
 It is marked thus : (" " ) as, " I may possibly go to-morrow, though I can 
 not go to-day." " I did it myself, sir. Surprising^ ! You did it !" 
 
 Examples. — K the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the imgodly and the sin- 
 ner appear ? 
 I grant you I i^s dSwn, and out of breath ; and so ivas he. 
 And but for these vile guns, he would himself have been a 8oldier\ 
 Queen. Hamlet', you have your father much offended. 
 Hamlet. Madam', yi'm have my father much offended. 
 ■ Shylock. If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revSnge. 
 
 Hath a d^>g money' ? Is it possible a ciW can lend two thousand ducats' ? 
 
 They tell us to be moderate; but thSy, tMy are to revel in profusion. 
 
 You pretend to reason' ? You don't so much as know the first elements of reasoning. 
 
 Note. — A nice distinction in sense sometimes depends upon the right 
 use of the inflections. 
 Examples.—" I did not give a sixpence'." 
 " I did not give a 8ixpence\" 
 
 The circumflex on sixpence implies that I gave more or less than that 
 sum ; but the falling inflection on the same word implies that I gave noth- 
 ing at all. 
 
 "Hume said he would go twenty miles to hear WhXtefield preach," 
 (here the circumflex implies the contrast), "but he would take no pains to 
 hear an ordinary' preacher." 
 
 " A man who is in the daily use of ardent spirits, if he does not become a drunkard^ is 
 in danger of losing his health and character." 
 
 The rising inflection on the closing syllable of drunkard would pervert 
 the meaning wholly, and assert that, in order to preserve health and char- 
 acter, one must become a drunkard. 
 
 "Tlic dog would have died If they had not cut off his head." 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 13 
 
 The falling inflection on died would make the cutting off his head nec- 
 essary to saving his life. 
 
 A physician says of a patient, " He is better^" This implies a positive 
 amendment. But if he says, "He is better','' it denotes only a partial 
 and perhaps doubtful amendment, and implies, "But he is still dangerous- 
 ly sick." 
 
 THE MONOTONE. 
 
 Rule XII. — The monotone, which is a succession of words 
 on the same key or pitch, and is not properly an inflection, 
 is often employed in passages of solemn denunciation, sub- 
 lime description, or expressing deep reverence and awe. It 
 is marked with the short horizontal dash over the accented 
 vowel, i^^ It must not be mistaken for the lon^ sound 
 of the vowels, as^ven in the Pronouncing Key. 
 
 Examples. — And one cried unto another, and said, H0I7, holy, holy is the Lord of 
 hosts. The whole earth is full of his glory. 
 
 Blessing, honor, glory, and power be unto him that sitteth on the throne, and to the 
 Lamb forever and ever. 
 
 In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear cfime 
 upon me, and trembling which made all ray bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before 
 my face ; the hair of my flesh stood up. It stood still, but I could not discern the form 
 thereof: an Image was before my eyes, there was silence, and I heard a voice, saying. 
 Shall mortal ^uan be more just than God? Shall a man be more pure than his Maker? 
 
 EMPHASIS. 
 
 JEmpJiasis is a forcible stress of voice upon some word or 
 words in a sentence on account of their significancy and im- 
 portance. Sometimes it merely gives lyrolonged loudness to 
 a word, but generally the various inflections are connected 
 with it. Thus it not only gives additional /orce to language, 
 but the sense often depends upon it. 
 
 Examples. —I did not say he stinick me' ; I said he struck JoJm\ 
 
 I did not say he struck me; I said he pushed me. 
 
 I did not say M struck me; I said John did. 
 
 I did not say he struck me ; but I wrote it. 
 
 i did not say he stnick me ; but John said he did. 
 
 He that can not bear a jest, should never make"^ one. 
 
 It is not so easy to Mde one's faults as to mend them. 
 
 CASsnjs. I may do that I shall be sorry for. 
 
 Bktjtus, You have'^ done that you should be sorry for, 
 
 (The varied effects of emphatic stress, and emphatic inflection, are so fully 
 shown in the Beading Lessons of all the Readers, as to need no further il- 
 lustration.) 
 
14 ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 KEY 
 
 TO THE SOUNDS OF THE LETTERS, AS DESIGNATED IN THE SCHOOL AND 
 FAMILY READERS. 
 
 The system of pronunciation here adopted is that of Noah Webster, as 
 contained in the later and improved editions of his Dictionary ; and the 
 indicative marks used are the same as those found in Webster's late "Pro- 
 nouncing and Defining Dictionary," edited by Prof. Goodrich. 
 
 A, long^ as in fame, aim, day, break, cake, make ; heard also in sail, veil, gauge, inveigh. 
 A, short, as in fat, at, caiTy, tariff; heard also in plaid, bade, raillery, etc. 
 X, Italian, as in fiir, father, biilm, piith ; heard also in heiirt, hearth, iiunt, haunch. 
 A, as in care, air, share, pair, bear, fair, parent ; heard also in where, heir. 
 A, as in last, ask, grass, diince, branch, staff, graft, pass, chance, chant. 
 A, sound of broad a, as in all, call, talk, haul, swarm, awe ; heard also in naught, taught. 
 A, short sound of broad «, as in what, wash. This coincides with the o in not. 
 E, long, as in me, mete, scheme; heard also in beard, field, leisure, brief, seize, key. 
 K, short, as in met, merry; heard also in feather, heifer, leopard, any, friend, guess. 
 E, like d in care ; as in there, their, heir, where, ere, e'er, wh^fe'er, etc. 
 K, short e before r, as in term, verge, verdure, prefer, earth. 
 
 J, like long e, as in pique, machine, mien, marine. This is the sound of the French i. 
 I, long, as in pine, fine. Isle; heard also in height, aisle, oblige, microscope. 
 i, short, as in pin, Tn, pit; heard also in sieve, since, been (bin), etc. 
 1, short, verging toward u, as in bird, firm, virgin, dirt. 
 
 o, long, as in note, oh, no, dome; heard also in course, yeoman, roU, port, door, etc. 
 6, short, as in not, bond ; heard also in coral, Corinth. It coincides with the a in what. 
 0, like short u, as in dove, love, s6n, done, worm; heard also in does (duz), n6ne (nun), 
 o, like long oo, as in priive, dii, move, tomb, lose, who, to. 
 O, like short oo, as in wolf, Wolsey. This sound coincides with that of w in bull. 
 00 (short 00), as in foot, book, wool, wood, 
 
 tJ, long, as in mute, duty, cr.be, unite, has the sound of yu, slightly approaching yoo when 
 it begins a syllable ; but in other cases it is difficult to distinguish the sound of the y. 
 u, short, as in but, tub, sfin ; heard also in does (duz), blood (blud), etc. 
 fr, long, nearly approaching oo when preceded by r, as rule, riide, ruby. 
 U, like 00 (short oo), as in fiiU, biiU, pull, push, put (not put). 
 JE (italic) marks a letter as silent, as fallen, token. 
 
 CONSONANTS. 
 
 C c soft (unmarked), like s sharp, as in cede, mercy. 
 
 C € Jiard, like k, as in call, carry. 
 
 C;il ch (unmarked), like tnh, as in child, choose. 
 
 cll Ch soft, like sh, as in machine, chaise. 
 
 €11 ch hard, like k, as in chorus, epoch. 
 
 G g hard (unmarked), as in go, gallant. 
 
 (i ^ soft, like j, as in gentle, aged. 
 
 S 8 sharp (unmarked), as in same, gas. 
 
 iS «i soft, like z, as in ha*, amu»c. 
 
 Til th shaip (unmarked), as in thing, path. 
 
 Til th flat or vocal, as in tliinc, their. 
 
 N" like ng, as in lon'ger, con^gress. 
 
 PII like / (unmarked), as In phaeton, sylph. 
 
 QU like kic (unmarked), as in queen, inquiry. 
 
 WII like hip (unmarked), as in when, while. 
 
FOURTH READER. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 FIRST DIVISION OF HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY 
 AND HEALTH * 
 
 (This subject is continued in the Fifth Render.) 
 
 LESSON I. 
 THE FRAME-WORK OF THE HUMAN BODY. 
 
 1. All persons know how important it is that the frame- 
 work of a house, such as the wallsj the posts, the beams, the 
 braces, and the rafters, should be made of strong materials, 
 and be well put together. If there should be any thing wrong 
 
 • General Physiologt is the science which treats of the properties and functions of 
 all livirifi things, which include animals and plants. 
 
 Human Physiology treats of the functions or offices of all the different parts or organs 
 in the human body, and the laws which govern them ; such as the action of the muscles, 
 the circulation of the blood, digestion, breathing, etc. A knowledge of these functions 
 requires some knowledge of the structure or anatomy of the parts, and the whole is the 
 basis of that department of medicine which treats of the pi'eservation of Health. 
 
16 willson's POUBTH EEADER. Part I. 
 
 in the frame- work, or if the materials should be poor, of what 
 use would the building be after it should be completed ? 
 
 2. The human body has a frame- work which sustains the 
 house we live in. This house of ours, unlike the houses of 
 men's making, is designed to be moved from place to place, 
 and to be put in many different positions. It must be a 
 strong and curiously planned frame-work that can support 
 such a house without being broken or injured by the n^ny 
 movements required of it. 
 
 3. And yet if this house of ours be properly taken care of, 
 the frame-work will support it and carry it about a great 
 many years ; and, what is still more curious, if any of the 
 parts of the house, such as a door, a hinge, or a post, its in- 
 ner apartments or its outer covering, get a little worn or in- 
 jured by use, each has the power, with a little aid from the 
 other parts, of repairing itself. 
 
 4. The hones of the body constitute the movable frame- 
 work of which we have spoken. There are a great many of 
 these bones — ^not less than two hundred and eight in number, 
 besides the teeth — and they are joined together very curious- 
 ly, and kept in their places by a great variety of braces, and 
 bands, and cords, and pulleys, that hold the frame-work firmly, 
 while they allow it to move freely in almost every direction. 
 
 5. This curious frame-work is sometimes called the skele- 
 ton, Nothing ever made by man can compare with it in 
 beauty and excellence of workmanship. At the upper part 
 of it is what is called the shull^ which is composed of eight 
 bony plates closely interlocked^ on their edges. It covers the 
 top of the head, like a bowl or basin, giving support to the 
 scalp or skin of the head, and the hair, and protecting from 
 injury the hrain^ which lies beneath it. 
 
 6. The brain is the seat of thought. It is there that we 
 think, and will, and reason ; that we reflect upon the past, 
 and make plans for the future. The brain is a very delicate 
 organ ; and, as it requires the very greatest care and protec- 
 tion, it is lodged in the hollow of the skull, which is the 
 strongest and safest room in the house we live in. This 
 lodging-place has been very appropriately called " the chdm- 
 hrr of the souV 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 17 
 
 7. On the front side of this chamber are two openings, 
 which have been called " the windows of the soul." They 
 are placed with great care in little hollows called sockets, so 
 as to be as little exposed as possible to danger from blows 
 that might chance to fall against that side of the chamber ; 
 and, by a Httle roof that projects over them, they are screen- 
 ed^ from the dust, the wind, and the rain. These windows 
 are the most curious and most wonderful pieces of workman- 
 ship that can be conceived, but we have not time to describe 
 them here. 
 
 8. But besides the bones of the skull, there are no less than 
 fourteen bones of the face, and four small bones of the ear, 
 and all together make up the frame-work of the Tiead^ which 
 rests upon still another set of bones, called the spine, back- 
 bone, or spinal column. This is a very important part of 
 the frame- work of the house we live in, and we shall here- 
 after see that it is very apt to get out of repair by bad usage. 
 
 9. This spinal column, which is the chief support of the 
 body, is composed of no less than twenty-four bones placed 
 one upon another, and so closely interlocked and bound to- 
 gether that it is almost impossible to separate them. Yet 
 this column is very pliable and elastic, for it can be bent in 
 all directions without injury; and between the bones are 
 little cushions, formed of what is called cartilage^ which 
 yield to pressure like India-rubber, and spring back to their 
 natural position when the pressure is removed. 
 
 10. Branching forward, and obliquely* downward from the 
 sides of this spinal column, are the ribs, twelve on each side, 
 most of them fastened to the breast-bone in front. They 
 give protection to the liver, lungs, heart, and large blood- 
 vessels. Then there are the bones of the hands and the arms, 
 the latter supported at the shoulder by the collar-bone, the 
 bones of the pelvis at the lower part of the body, and the 
 bones of the legs and feet ; and thus we have the frame-work 
 of the body completed. 
 
 11. The manner in which all the pieces of this frame-work 
 are joined together, and the means by which they are made 
 to move easily in various directions, are exceedingly curious. 
 Thus the shoulder has ouc kind of joint, and the elbow an- 
 
- 18 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH EEADER. 
 
 Paet I. 
 
 other, while the joints of the wrist and fingers are diiFerent 
 still, each adajDted to the motions which it is required to 
 perform. They ara also firmly held together by strong bands 
 or ligaments,^ and the ends of the bones are very hard and 
 smooth, and kept constantly oiled that they may not rub 
 harshly upon each other. All these things show very clear 
 ly the wisdom and skill of Him who planned the frame-work 
 of the house we live in. 
 
 "This curious frame betrays^ the power divine, 
 With God's own image stamped on every line." 
 
 In-ter-lockep', clasping each other. 
 
 Screened', protected or sheltered from 
 
 injury. 
 
 Oab'-ti-lage, gristle. 
 
 OB-i.TQtrE'-T.Y, not in a right line ; not 
 
 perpendicularly. 
 
 5 Lig'-a-ment, that which ties one thing to 
 another. The ligaments are softer than 
 the cartilages. 
 
 6 Be-tbavs', shows ; exhibits. 
 
 Fig. 1. 
 
 THE HUMAN RKET.ETON. 
 
 Sic. The skull, or cra'-ni-um. 
 
 sp. The spine, or spinal column, composed of 24 bones. 
 
 Each piece is called a vert'-e-bra. 
 cl. The collar-bone, or clav'-i-cle. 
 
 8C. The shoulder-blade, or KcajZ-u-la. It is a flat, thin, 
 triangular bone, situated on the upper and back 
 part of the chest. It can not be seen from the 
 front. 
 8. The breast-bone, or ster'-niim. 
 r. Ribs, branching out from the spinal column. 
 h. Upper bone of the arm, or hu'-mer-us. 
 ra. Outer bone of the fore-arm, or ra'-di-us. 
 u. Inner bone of the fore-arm, or ul'-na. 
 c. The wrist, composed of eight bones, called the car - 
 
 m. The palm of the hand, composed of five bones, call- 
 ed the tnet-a-car' -pus. 
 ph. The finger-bones, or pha-lan'-ges. 
 2)1. Pelvis bones, called the in-nom-i-nn'-ta. 
 8Li. The m'-crum. It connects Avith the lower vertebra, 
 
 and is bound by ligaments to the inuominata. 
 h. The hip-joint. 
 /. Thigh-bone, or fe'-mur. 
 p. Knee-pan, or 2)Cl-teV-la. 
 k. Knee-joint. 
 t. Shin-bone, or tib'-i-a. 
 fi. Small bone of the leg, or fib'-u-la. 
 ta. Instep, or tar'-mis. 
 
 me. Bones of the middle of the foot, or met-a-tar'-8us. 
 p8. Bones of the toes, or pka-lan'-gea. 
 
 The SKur.i-, a very important part of the human body, as it incloses and protects the 
 brain, is composed of eight boncn, whose ragged edges, called swf'-wrcs, interlock with 
 each other. Each of these bones is formed of two i)lates of bony matter united by a 
 spongy portion of bone. This formation interrupts, in a measure, the vibrations pro- 
 duced by external blows or falls, and prevents fractures from extending as far aa they 
 otherwise would in one continued bone. 
 
 The bones of the upper and lower limbs are enlarged at each extremity, as seen in the 
 drawing, thus affording additional room, where most needed, for the attachment of the 
 muscular tendons and ligaments which connect one bono with another. 
 
1st Diy. OF HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AITD HEALTH. 19 
 
 LESSON n. 
 
 THE BONES, AND THE INJURIES TO WHICH THEY 
 ARE LIABLE. 
 
 1. The bones are composed of both animal and earthy ma- 
 terials. The animal part gives them life, and the eartliy part 
 gives them strength ; and both kinds of material are siipphed 
 by the blood. If, then, there be but little blood in tne sys- 
 tem, or if it move slowly and feebly, it will not supply a suffi- 
 cient quantity of this building material. 
 
 ^. In infancy the bones, being then composed mostly of an- 
 imal matter, are soft and yielding ; but as the child advances 
 in years they become gradually firmer, stronger, and harder, 
 and in very old age they sometimes become so brittle as to 
 be easily broken. So readily do the bones in early life yield 
 to pressure, that they are often permanently bent out of shape 
 by careless or ignorant management; and deformity,^ poor 
 health, and sometimes early death, are the unfortunate results. 
 
 3. The spinal column, in its natural position, curves back- 
 ward and forward, but not from side to side. This arrange- 
 ment of the bones, when connected with the cushion-like car- 
 tilages between them, gives to the body great ease and elas- 
 ticity^ of movement, and prevents many injuries to which it 
 would otherwise be exposed. 
 
 4. The natural position of the body is always the correct 
 one ; and when by accident or design the body is allowed to 
 grow differently, one of God's laws is violated, and we are sure 
 to be punished for it. In the growth of our bodies we may 
 aid nature, but we can not with safety act in opposition to it. 
 We may cultivate the habit of sitting and walking in an erect 
 position, and thereby aid nature in providing for the proper 
 growth of the spinal column. 
 
 5. But children often sit at their desks in the school-room, 
 or stand during recitation, in a stooping position, or one that 
 allows the body to curve sidewise. The bones gradually 
 harden or grow in this position, until at length a confirmed 
 stoop or a curvature^ of the spind is produced, and the body 
 
20 WILLSON'f FOUBTH EEADEK. Pakt I. 
 
 loses that erect posture which is essential not only to manly- 
 beauty, but to health also. By this carelessness an import- 
 ant law of nature is violated, and defoi-mity and suffering are 
 the penalty paid for it. (See Figs. 2 and 3). 
 
 6. Many of the Chinese, thinking that a very small foot is 
 a great beauty, bandage the feet of their female children so 
 as to prevent the growth of the bones. The feet then, after 
 a great amount of suffering, become mere awkward stumps, 
 scarcely able to support the body, and almost wholly incapa- 
 ble of being used in walking. Some of the North American 
 Indians flatten the foreheads of their children by pressure, 
 because they think a very flat forehead is a mark of beauty ; 
 and some mothers, even among civilized and Christian peo- 
 ple, have the equally bad taste and cruelty to compress*-^d 
 distort the bodies of their daughters, by cords and bandages, 
 to make their waists smaller than their Maker designed them. 
 The results of this cruel and wicked practice, when long per- 
 severed in, are weak, miserable, deformed bodies, and, fre- 
 quently, wasting consumption^ and early death. 
 
 1. The bones are found to mcrease in size and strength, the 
 same as other parts of the body, by a proper amount of exer- 
 cise ; while they become weak by inaction, and finally dwin- 
 dle away. Thus the bones of the laboring man are hard and 
 strong, while the bones of those who neglect exercise are 
 loose in texture, weak, and deficient in size. The cause of 
 these results is, that exercise makes the blood flow more 
 
 rig. 2. 
 
 \ ^ J. . 
 
 A person who sits facing an ascending c?e«fc should sit in an erect position, as in Fig. 3, 
 and not allow the body to curve sidewise, as in Fig. 2. For the purposes of trriting, how- 
 ever, a level table, and right side to the tablo, with an erect position, and paper siiuare 
 with the table, are perhaps preferable ; although many writuig masters still adhere to 
 the old rule, " left side to the desk," which necessitates a leaning posture, and imposes 
 a continual strain upon the muscles whfch support the back. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 21 
 
 briskly, and deposits in the bony structure an increased quan- 
 tity of such materials as bone is made of. 
 
 8. But, on the other hand, if a child be put to severe, con- 
 tinued labor, the bones ^vill fill up and harden too rapidly 
 before they attain their natural growth, and the child will be 
 dwarfed in stature. If exercise be taken with moderation, 
 it will conduce^ to the growth and strength of the whole 
 body ; but if it be too violent, and be too long continued 
 without the intervals of rest which nature requires, it will be 
 productive of evil. Here, as elsewhere, the true rule is, " Ex- 
 cess in nothmg ; moderation in all things." 
 
 1 De-f6em'-i-ty, crookedness ; distortion. 
 
 2 E-i.a8-t!c'-i-ty, a springy or elastic con- 
 dition of the body. 
 
 ' €uBv'-A-TDEE, bending. 
 
 * €6m-pee88', to press together; to make 
 smaller. 
 
 5 €oN-8UMp'-TiON, a disease of the lungs at- 
 tended with wasting of the flesh. 
 
 6 Con-dlcb', promote ; contribute ; lead to. 
 
 LESSON m. 
 
 ORGANS THAT MOVE THE BODY.— THE MUSCLES. 
 
 1. While the bones give support and general form to the 
 body, the instruments by which it is moved are the muscles. 
 They are what in animals is known as flesh, or lean meat, as 
 distinguished from fat, bone, sinew,^ or cartilage. The mus- 
 cles are made of bundles of very fine threads, called muscular 
 fibres^ placed side by side, and bound up in a thin skin-like 
 covering or sheath. All these threads are elastic, so that 
 when they are stretched out they incline to shrink back 
 again, like India-rubber. At the ends of the muscles these 
 threads are changed into strong tendons or cords, which are 
 firmly fastened to the bones. 
 
 2. The muscles are spread all over the body. In the limbs 
 they are placed around the bones, one end of a muscle be- 
 ing usually attached by its tendon to one bone, and the other 
 end to another. In the trunk or body they are spread out to 
 inclose cavities f and there they constitute a defensive wall, 
 readily yielding to pressure, but resuming their original po- 
 sition when the pressure is removed. 
 
 3. There are more than five hundred muscles in the human 
 
 # 
 
22 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 body, of various shapes, bound around, twining among, and 
 lapping over each other, and running in almost every possi- 
 ble direction, according to their various uses. Every move- 
 ment that is made by any part of the body requires the ac- 
 tion of at least two muscles, one to draw the part one way, 
 and the opposing muscle to yield to the movement, or to 
 draw the part back agam. The muscles are directed how to 
 act by the nerves^ which run from the brain to all parts of 
 the body. 
 
 4. We can not swallow our food, draw the breath, move 
 the eyes or head, bend the body, or move the limbs, without 
 the employment of numerous muscles. It is by their action 
 that the farmer cultivates his fields, the mechanic wields his 
 tools, the sportsman pursues his game, the orator gives ut- 
 
 Fig. 4, ghowing the bones, and only two of the mnscleg of tlie arm, 
 is a representation of the manner in which all the joints of the body 
 are moved. Here h is the upper bone of the arm, and ra and u the 
 bones of the fore-arm. When the muscle b contracts, the muscle c, 
 relaxes, and the fore-arm is raised, turning on the joint d. When 
 c contracts, and h relaxes, the fore-arm is extended. 
 
 In I'ig. 5 are shown the muscles of the arm. The muscles marked 
 5 and 6 are used in moving the wrist. The one marked 8 extendi 
 all the fingers; wliile another, on the other side of the arm, closes 
 them. The one marked 9 moves the little finger ; 13 turns the hand 
 sidewise, and also moves the arm ; 10 and 14 turn the hand ; 15 is 
 the strong band that holds the muscles firmly in place around the 
 wrist. 
 
 Fig. 6 shows a number of the small muscular fibres, a, rt, &, torn 
 
 from larger bundles. These are magnified two hundred times their 
 
 real size. These fibres are really formed of little cells connected 
 
 with each other. 
 
 At Fig. 7 is a greatly magnified representation of three of the 
 
 muscular fibres cut 
 across (transverse- 
 ), and showing 
 shape of the 
 cells, l^ressure has 
 caused these cells 
 to lose their round- 
 ed shape. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 23 
 
 terance to his thoughts, the lady touches the keys of the pi- 
 ano, and the young are whirled in the mazy dance. It will 
 readily be seen, therefore, how much of the pleasures and the 
 employments of Ufe depend upon their healthy action. 
 
 5. Some of the muscles, such as those which move the fin- 
 gers, limbs, and trunk, act under the government of the will ; 
 but others, such as those which are used in breathing, and 
 those used in moving the blood through the system, act 
 wholly without the necessity of mental control. The former 
 are called voluntary^ and the latter involmitary muscles. 
 Can any reason be given why the involuntary muscles should 
 not be under the control of the will ? 
 
 6. Like all other parts of the body, the muscles are nour- 
 ished by the blood, one set of blood-vessels, the arteries, car- 
 rying thes nourishing particles where they are needed, and 
 another set, the veins, removing the decayed portions that 
 are no longer of any use. Thus the blood is constantly de- 
 positing new matter, and removing that which is old and 
 worthless. 
 
 V. The materials of which a muscle is composed are con- 
 stantly passing away, like water under the influence of the 
 noonday sun, and if no exercise be given to the muscle it 
 soon becomes thin and flabby,^ it grows weak, and ere long 
 loses its power of action. In this case the waste of matter 
 is greater than the supply. But if projoer exercise be given 
 to the muscle, the movement of the blood in the artery which 
 nourishes it is quickened, an abundant supply of nourishment 
 is provided, and the muscle attains its perfect shape and full 
 power of action. If only a few of the muscles of the body 
 are exercised, they alone become firm, compact, and strong, 
 while the others dwindle away. 
 
 8. The effect of vigorous* exercise of one set of muscles is 
 seen in the arms of the blacksmith, which not only increase 
 in size, but become firm and hard ; while, perhaps, other mus' 
 cles of the body, called less frequently into use, are feebly de- 
 veloped.^ The hands and arms of the student are usually 
 small and soft, and of a sickly hue, merely because, not being 
 accustomed to vigorous exercise, they do not i*eceive a suita- 
 ble supply of nourishment. 
 
24 WILLSOn's fourth eeader. Part I. 
 
 9. The same law prevails throughout the entire body. If 
 little or no exercise be taken, the whole body will be literal- 
 ly starved ; for while the blood flows in a sluggish stream it 
 very poorly performs its office of building up the system and 
 keeping it in repair. 
 
 10. Yet, notwithstanding the importance of exercise, sev- 
 eral cautions are necessary respecting it. The young, es- 
 pecially, should be guarded against taking too severe exer- 
 cise, and against continuing it too long ; for there is a point 
 beyond which the muscles will be enfeebled, rather than 
 strengthened, by exertion. Their healthy condition requires 
 that exercise should be moderate at the commencement, and 
 never continued so as to produce a feeling of exhaustion.^ 
 
 11. " Begin with gentle toils ; and as your limbs 
 
 Grow firm, to hardier, by just steps, aspire. 
 The prudent, even in eveiy moderate walk, 
 At first but saunter ; and by slow degrees 
 Increase their pace. 
 
 When, all at once, from indolence to toil 
 You spring, the fibres, by the hasty shock, 
 Are strained and tired, before their oily coats, 
 Compressed, can pour the lubricating balm. 
 Besides, collected in the passive veins, 
 The foaming blood a sudden torrent rolls, 
 O'erpowers the heart, and deluges the lungs 
 With sudden inundation." 
 
 12. An erect attitude while sitting, standing, or walking, 
 is found to be most conducive to health, and to be attended 
 with far less exhaustion of the muscles than a stooping posi- 
 tion ; for in the former case the muscles, being well balanced, 
 mutually support each other. The spinal column should be 
 kept erect, so far as possible, whatever occupations we may 
 be engaged in, and the shoulders should be kept thrown back, 
 that the chest may become broad and full. If a stooping 
 posture be acquired in youth, we may be very certain that 
 the deformity will continue to increase throughout life. 
 
 13. But whether the body be at rest, or in action, no one 
 position of the muscles should be continued until weariness 
 results from it. How often is it noticed that small children, 
 after sitting a sliort time, become restless. Nature is warn- 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 
 25 
 
 ing them of the danger of violating her laws. A sitting or a 
 standing posture occasions a continued strain upon certain 
 sets of muscles ; and rest, or change of j)Osition, is required for 
 their relief. To one who has long been sitting, walking or 
 running will often give the needed rest. We may learn from 
 this the importance of giving to young and feeble children at 
 school frequent out-door recreation.' 
 
 14. Moreover, the muscles should be exercised in pure air, 
 and in the light, neither immediately before nor immediately 
 after severe mental toil ; and they should be rested gradual- 
 ly, by continuing some gentle exercise, when they have been 
 vigorously used, and are greatly fatigued. They should never 
 be so compressed by bandages or clothing as to restrain their 
 free motions, unless the desire be to starve them into prema- 
 ture^ decay. The pressure of tight dresses, in females, enfee- 
 bles the muscles, and is a common cause of projecting shoul- 
 ders, curvature of the spinal column, and consumption. What 
 then shall we say of those fashions and modes of dress that 
 violate all physiological^ laws ? May they not justly be re- 
 garded as enemies of the human race ? 
 
 15. " Knowest thou the nature of the human frame, 
 
 That world of wonders more than we can name' ? 
 
 Say\ has thy busy, curious eye surveyed 
 
 The proofs of boundless wisdom there displayed' ? 
 
 Each fibre ranged with such amazing skill 
 
 That every muscle may attend thy will' ? 
 
 How every tendon acts upon its hone, 
 
 And how the nerves receive their nicer tone' ? 
 
 Convey the keen vibration^" of the sense. 
 
 And give the wakeful mind intelligence' ? 
 
 How some strong guard each vital part sustains, 
 
 How flows the purple balsam'^'^ through the veins'?" 
 
 * STn'-ew (sia'-nu), a tendon. 
 
 2 €av'-i-ties, hollows. 
 
 3 Flab'-by, soft ; hanging loose. 
 
 * Vig'-or-ous, active ; powerful. 
 5 De-vel'-oped, filled out in size. 
 
 * Ex-haust'-ion, weariness; deprived fti 
 strength. 
 
 ■? Re€-re-a'-tion, amiisement ; diversion. 
 
 8 Pre'-ma-tCke, before the proper time. 
 
 9 Puy8-i-o-log'-i-€al, pertaining to the 
 laws of physiology or health. 
 
 10 Vr-BE|.'-TioN, supposed motion of the 
 nervous fluid. 
 
 11 Bal'-sam, here used for the blood. 
 
 B 
 
26 willson's FOUETH READEE. Pakt L 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 MUSCULAR EXERCISE AND MENTAL STIMULUS. 
 
 1. There is still another important principle connected with 
 muscular exercise that must not be disregarded. The mus- 
 cles depend, almost wholly, for their strength and activity, 
 upon the stimulus^ which they receive from the mind. Let 
 the mind encourage them by pleasurable excitement,' and 
 they will labor long and actively with but little iatigue ; but 
 if the mind be unoccupied, gloomy, and desponding, the 
 muscles will soon become weary. 
 
 2. That muscular power depends but very little upon the 
 mere unaided strength of the muscular fibres, is shown by 
 the fact that, when separated from the body, the muscle, 
 which formerly sustained and raised a weight of one hundred 
 pounds, will be torn asunder by a weight of ten pounds. 
 And how has it lost all this power^ ? Is it not because its 
 appropriate mental stimulus has been taken aw^ay' ? 
 
 3. It is owing to the stimulus which the muscles receive 
 from the mind that a sportsman will pursue his game for 
 miles, not only without fatigue, but with a great degree of 
 enjoyment, while a dull walk of half the distance would 
 weary both mind and body. The same principle was well il- 
 lustrated in the retreat from Russia of the defeated and dis- 
 pirited French army. When no enemy was near, the French 
 soldiers had hardly strength sufficient to carry their arms ; 
 but no sooner did they hear the report of the Russian guns, 
 than new life seemed to pervade them, and they wielded their 
 weapons powerfully until the foe was repulsed. Then, the 
 mental stimulus being gone, there was a relapse^ to w^eak- 
 ness, and prostration followed. 
 
 4. It is thus with the invalid^ when riding or taking a walk 
 for his health. If he have nothing to occupy his mind, he 
 will be apt" to return w^eary and dispirited; but let him have 
 the pleasure of agreeable company, or be able to enjoy the 
 charms of surrounding nature, and his ride or walk will re- 
 fresh and invigorate* him. So it is with the daily vocations^ 
 
1st Div. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 21 
 
 of life. If the mind furnish the muscles with the appropriate 
 incentive to exertion, the tiresomeness of labor will be great- 
 ly diminished. It is ever found that " cheerfulness sweetens 
 toil," thus confirming the wisdom of Solomon, that " a merry 
 heart doeth good like a medicine." 
 
 5. Physicians often avail themselves of the principle of 
 combining mental excitement with muscular exertion in the 
 treatment of their patients. Thus the Spectator^ tells an 
 amusing story of the advice given by a physician to one of 
 the Eastern kings. Th^ physician brought him a heavy mal- 
 let, and told him that the remedy was concealed in the han- 
 dle, and could act upon him only by passing into the palms 
 of his hands when engaged in vigorously pounding with it, 
 and that, as soon as perspiration should be induced,"^ he might 
 desist for the time, as that would be proof that the medicine 
 was beginning to be received into the system. 
 
 6. The effect, we are told, was marvelous ; and, looking to 
 the principle just stated, to the cheerful mental stimulus aris- 
 ing from the confident expectation of a cure, and to the con- 
 sequent advantages of exercise thus judiciously managed, we 
 have no reason to doubt that the fable is in perfect accord- 
 ance with nature. 
 
 7. Of a like character is the anecdote which has been re- 
 lated of a physician in London, who advised a dyspeptic^ pa- 
 tient, who had bafiled all his remedies, to go and consult a 
 celebrated physician several hundred miles distant in the 
 country. On arriving at the place, the patient soon discov- 
 ered that no such person lived there. The stimulus of ex- 
 pecting a cure, however, had been sufficient to enable the pa- 
 tient not only to bear the journey, but to reap benefit from 
 it ; and his wr^th at finding no such person as had been de- 
 scribed to him, and his anger on perceiving that h#had been 
 tricked, sustained him in returning, so that on his arrival 
 home he was cured of his disease. 
 
 8. Cases like the following, illustrating the same principle, 
 are not unfrequent. A gentleman immersed^ in the business 
 and pleasures of a great city becomes disordered in health, 
 and depressed in spirits. He receives much good advice from 
 his medical friend, which he professes to follow with implicit 
 
28 
 
 wtllson's foueth eeader. 
 
 Pakt L 
 
 confidence, and proceeds to do so amid the anxieties of busi- 
 ness, bad air, late hours, luxurious dinners, and nearly the 
 total want of bodily exercise. 
 
 9. Deriving no benefit from all that is done for him, he 
 hears of some celebrated springs, whose waters have acquired 
 great reputation in the cure of stomach complaints ; and at 
 length he makes up his mind to proceed thither, though with 
 little hope of deriving benefit from any thing. He now lays 
 aside all business, lives by rule, keeps early hours, and is all 
 day long in the open air. He soon recovers excellent health, 
 and cordially concurs in spreading the fame of the water by 
 which a cure so wonderful has been accomplished. 
 
 1 0. The advantages of combining harmonious mental ex- 
 citement with muscular exertion, are thus noticed by Dr. 
 Armstrong in his poem entitled the Art of Preserving 
 Health: 
 
 "7n whatever you sweat. 
 Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils, ^^ 
 The tennis^ ^ some, and some the graceful dance. 
 Others, more hardy, range the purple heath, 
 Or naked stubble, where, from field to field, 
 The sounding coveys^ ^ urge their lab'ring flight, 
 Eager amid the rising cloud to pour 
 The gun's unemng thunder. And there arc 
 Whom still the meed^^ of the green archer charms. 
 He chooses best whose labor entertains 
 His vacant Janey most. The toil tou hate 
 Fatigues you soon, and scarce oipboves your limbs." 
 
 1 StTm'-C-lu8, impulse ; that which rouses 
 to action. 
 
 2 Re-lapse', a sliding or fulling back. 
 
 3 in'-va-lid, a person m ho is weak or in- 
 firm. 
 
 * In-vTo'-ok-ate, strengthen. 
 6 Vo-ca'-tion, occupation ; employment. 
 6 Spk€-t.v'-toe, a series of papers written 
 mostly by AWlison. 
 
 ' In-dCoed', caused ; occasioned. 
 
 8 DYS-rEP'-Ti€, afflicted with bad digestion. 
 
 9 Im-mebse«', deeply engaged. 
 
 10 Foil., a blunt sword used in fencing, or 
 sword exercise. 
 
 11 Tkn'-ni8, a game of ball. 
 
 12 €6v'-F.Y (kuv'-y), plwral cov'-eys, a small 
 flock of birds. 
 
 13 Meed, reward ; prize. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 29 
 
 LESSON V. 
 
 OKGANS THAT PKEPARE NOURISHMENT FOR THE BODY. 
 The Stomach, Livee, Pancreas, Lacteals, and smaller Intestines. 
 
 1. It has been stated that the bones and the muscles, and 
 also all other portions of the body, are nourished and sus- 
 tained by the blood ; and that the blood is constantly con- 
 veying to them new particles of matter, and carrying away 
 worn-out portions which are of no further use. As the blood 
 has so much to do in the biiilding and repairing of the " house 
 we live in," it will be both interesting and useful to know 
 something about the organs and the processes by which the 
 blood itself is manufactured. 
 
 2. We will begin, therefore, by stating that the blood is 
 manufactured from the food we eat. It may well be sup- 
 posed, therefore, that the quality of the blood will depend 
 considerably upon the quality of the materials used in its 
 manufacture ; for, while it is true that good wholesome food 
 will make good blood, it is equally true that poor food will 
 make poor blood. The " house we live in" can not be a very 
 good one if made of poor materials. This subject, the man- 
 ufacture of the blood, becomes, therefore, a very important 
 one. 
 
 3. As is well known, the solid portions of our food are first 
 divided by chewing. And here, we may remark, it is very 
 desirable that the teeth should be firm and strong, and that 
 they should be required to do their part of the work well. 
 While they are doing their duty, several little sacs, or glands^ 
 near the sides of the mouth, throw into the mouth a liquid 
 called saliva^ which moistens the food, so that it may glide 
 easily down the throat into the stomach. 
 
 4. The next thing is to describe the stomach, and tell what 
 that does toward manufacturing blood. The stomach is a 
 kind of bag that will hold from a quart to three pints, ac- 
 cording to the size and age of a person. It is formed chiefly 
 of muscles, some running in one direction, and some in an 
 
30 willson's FOUETH EEADER. Paet I. 
 
 other, and the inner side is lined with vessels which contain 
 a fluid called the gastric juice. 
 
 5. When food is received into the stomach, the blood-ves- 
 sels of the stomach carry off any superabundance^ of water 
 that may be found there ; then the gastric juice is poured on 
 to the food to dissolve it, and the muscles of the stomach 
 move the food about in every direction, so as thoroughly to 
 mix it with the gastric juice. This operation is continued, 
 with a strong and steady action, from two to four hours after 
 a hearty meal, until the food is reduced to a thin paste. In 
 this state it is called chyme. 
 
 6. As soon as any portion of the food is thus suitably pre- 
 pared, the muscles, seeming to know their duty well, move 
 it along to the small end of the stomach, where a little door 
 or valve opens to let it j^ass through into the smaller intes- 
 tines. This valve is a very faithful sentinel, always on duty ; 
 and if any portion of food not properly digested — that is, not 
 reduced to chyme — makes its appearance there, this little 
 valve will close against it, and turn it back into the stomach. 
 The ancient Greeks gave to this valve the name pylorus, 
 which means " a door-keeper." (See Figs. 9 and 10, page 33.) 
 
 7. There is one thing more very singular about this ever- 
 watchful sentinel. While it will not, unless completely ex- 
 hausted by fatigue, let indigestible food pass at all, it opens 
 at once to let other substances pass, such as buttons, pieces 
 of money, and little pebbles, that have been swallowed by 
 mistake. For of what use would it be to keep them in the 
 stomach ? Mr. Pylorus seems to know that they can not be 
 digested at all, and that the easiest way to disj^ose of them 
 is to let them pass on. , . 
 
 8. It sometimes happens that either too great a quantity of 
 food, or food of a bad quality, has been taken into the stom- 
 ach. The stomach, after a great amount of labor, and failing 
 to digest it, tries to get rid of it by pushing it past the pylo- 
 rus. The pylorus resists, and a struggle ensues. If the py- 
 lorus yields first, the undigested food passes through, irri- 
 tating3 the intestines as it moves along, and often producing 
 severe sickness. But if the stomach yields first, its muscles 
 endeavor to expel the unwholesome food in the other direc- 
 tion, and occasion what is called vomiting. 
 
1st Diy. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 31 
 
 9. But suppose that good wholesome chyme has passed 
 the doorway of the pylorus, what is the next step in the 
 process? We are looking to see how blood is made from 
 the food we have eaten. First, then, through a little chan- 
 nel the liver pours upon the chyme a quantity of that bitter 
 yellow fluid«called bile ; then another organ, called the pan- 
 ereas^'^ pours upon it ihe pancreatic juice ; some other juices 
 are also poured in, and these liquids convert a portion of the 
 chyme into a thin whitish fluid called chyle.^ 
 
 10. As this chyle is carried along in the intestine it comes 
 in contact with the mouths of numerous little veins, and also 
 the mouths of numerous little hair-like tubes called lacteals^ 
 both of which absorb it, and convey it to what is called the 
 thoracic^ duct ; and this duct empties it into a large vein, 
 which conveys it to the heart. After this it is sent to the 
 limgs, whore it is acted upon by the oxygen of the atmos- 
 phere, as we shall hereafter describe, when it becomes blood 
 — a stock of fresh materials, suitable to aid in repairing, build- 
 ing up, and nourishing the body. 
 
 11. "For this the watchful appetite was given, 
 
 Daily with fresh materials to repair 
 
 This unavoidable expense of life, 
 
 This necessary waste of flesh and blood. 
 
 Hence the digestive powers, with various art, 
 
 Subdue the ruder aliments^ to chyle ; 
 
 The chyle to blood ; the foamy purple tide 
 
 To liquors, which, through finer arteries. 
 
 To different parts their winding course pursue. 
 
 To try new changes, and new forms put on." 
 
 12. But what does this blood, which circulates in our bod- 
 ies, consist of? The blood of man consists of a colorless liq- 
 uid, composed mostly of water, in which are seen floating a 
 great number of very small, flat, circular atoms, or sacs, call- 
 ed disks or cells, a few of them white, but most of them red. 
 If ticelve thousand of these thin, flat cells Avere placed one 
 upon another, they would make a pile of less than an inch in 
 thickness ! These cells seem to be a kind of living atoms, for 
 
 * Oils and fats are not digested in the stomach, hut only after they have passed into 
 the intestine, and been acted upon by the bile. They are then absorbed by the lacteals. 
 Although we speak of the mouths of the lacteals, they ai-e so small as to be invisible even 
 by the aid of glasses, and may be considered as mere porea leading to those tubes. 
 
32 
 
 willson's foueth eeadee. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 they have their periods of birth, of growth, of decay, and of 
 death ; and they are nourished by the hquid in which they 
 float. Countless myriads of them come into existence every 
 day ; and it is said that at every pulsation^ of the heart near- 
 ly twenty millions of them die. Has not physiology, then, 
 its passing wonders, as well as astronomy ? (S^e Fig. 8.) 
 
 13. While the blood, as a whole, has its own peculiar la- 
 bors to perform in nourishing the body and removing its 
 waste particles, each part of the blood has its separate duty. 
 Thus the liquid in which the blood-cells float carries along 
 the nourishing materials which are dissolved in it; but the 
 business of the cells is to carry the oxygen. They take it in 
 at the lungs, carry it where it is needed to burn up the waste 
 particles of carbon and convert them into carbonic acid gas, 
 and then go back for a new supply. What a wonderful j)roc- 
 ess this is! But when the cells get old, and worn out in 
 this labor, they shrivel up with age, they lose their bright 
 crimson color, and assume a tawny hue like the decaying 
 leaves of autumn, and at length they die — millions of them at 
 every breath we draw. Some portions of their dead remains 
 are used in repairs of the system, w^hile other portions are 
 strained off in the liver, and used for the manufacture of 
 hile. 
 
 14. The relative position of the principal organs of the 
 body, and the manner in which they are neatly packed to- 
 
 Fig. 8 represents a very small drop of human blood, containing the circular Wood-cells 
 magnified 500 diameters. As the blood-cells in other animals are not similar in size and 
 shape to those found in man, the microscope will detect the diflfereucc. 
 
 If we take a quanti- 
 ty of the blood of man, 
 and analyze it, we 
 shall find that in 1000 
 parts of it tliore are 
 nearly the following 
 proportions of various 
 ingredients : 
 
 Water 7S4 00 
 
 Albumen 70 Oo 
 
 librin 2.20 
 
 Cells 131.00 
 
 Tata 1 :!0 
 
 Salts 6.03 
 
 Other sub- ) 
 
 stances../ ' 
 
 5.47 
 
 1000.00 
 
 The following is tho 
 composition of 1000 parts 
 of the cells : 
 
 \Vatcr CSS. 00 
 
 llajmatin (with ) -tr 'tk 
 
 iron) / ^*'*^ 
 
 Globulin and) 
 
 cell mem- v.. 2S2.?2 
 
 brane . . . . ) 
 
 Fat 2.31 
 
 Extractive 2.C0 
 
 Mineral sub- ) g -jo 
 
 stances ...} " 
 
 1000.00 
 
1st Drv. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 
 33 
 
 gether, may be seen in the drawing, Fig. 9, which we have 
 given below. In the drawing Fig. 10 is a separate repre- 
 sentation of the principal organs of digestion, which are en- 
 gaged in manufacturing that life-bearing and Ufe-preserving 
 current, the blood, from the food w^e have eaten. He who 
 made them, He Avho planned this curious manufactory, has 
 assigned to them their duties ; and faithfully will they keep 
 laboring on in our service through a long hfe, if we furnish 
 them the proper materials to work with, and guard them 
 
 Explanation. — Fig. 9 : c the windpipe. Back of the heart it branches to both lungs. 
 2?, Bi the right and left luug.s } A , tlie heart ; d, the diaphragm, the muscle separating 
 the chest from the abdomen ; D, the stomach ; S\ the spleen (or milt), supposed by the 
 ancients to be tlie seat of melancholy. Its use is not well determined. C, the liver, the 
 largest organ in the body ; I, the gall-bladder, on the under surface of the liver ; m, m, 
 the two kidneys, the right one the lowest ; V, situation of the pylorus ; 0, the pancreas ; 
 «?, IV, the small intestine, sometimes called the second stomach ; /, /, /, the colon, or 
 large intestine. 
 
 rig. 10 : 3, the cesoph'-a-gns, through which the food passes into the stomach ; 1.3, car- 
 diac orifice of the stomach ; 14, splenic extremity ; 15, pyloric extremity ; IS, pyloihis ; 
 19, 20, 21, that part of the small intestine called the du-o-de' -num ; 22, gall-bladder ; 23, 
 cystic duct ; 24, hepatic duct ; 25, common gall duct ; 26, its opening into the du-o-de'- 
 num ; 27, duct of the pancreas opening into the du-o-de'-num ; 28 to 30, that part of the 
 email intestine called the je-ju' -nuni ; 30 to 31, that part called the il'-e-um; 31, open- 
 ing of the il'-e-um into the large intestine, or co'-lon; 36, 37, 38, 39, the colon ; 40, 
 rectum. 
 
 Fig. 9. . -.» Fig. 10. 
 
 B2 
 
 #. < . * 
 
34 willson's FOTJETH EEADEB. Pakt I. 
 
 from clanger, and from the many abuses to which they are 
 liable from om* ignorance, our folly, and our neglect. 
 
 15. But oh! how sadly are these faithful servants often 
 abused by us^ ! How often do we give the stomach more 
 labor than it can perform^ ! How often do we fill it with 
 crude^ and indigestible materials, until it rebels agains.t our 
 tyranny, or sinks exhausted in our service^ ! How often do 
 many poison it with vile drinks^ ! How often do they neg- 
 lect to give it the repose which it needs^ ! How generally 
 are its laws of healthy action violated^ ! And the sad conse- 
 quences — are they not evident all around us, in thousands of 
 cases of suffering, disease, and early death' ? 
 
 ^ Sa-lT'-va; when discharged from thc'6 Tno-BAc'-ic (tho-ras'-ik) ; the thoracic 
 mouth it is called spittle. duct is the great trunk of the absorbent 
 
 2 Str-PEE-A-BUND'-ANCE, morc than enough, vessels. 
 
 3 Ib'-rt-ta-ting, causing unhealthy action. ; "^ al'-i-ment, food ; nutriment. 
 
 * Pan'-€ee-a8, a gland that pours out ai^ PtT.-SA'-TiON, the beating or throbbing of 
 kind of saliva. the heart. 
 
 * LA€'-TE-Aii$, these are slender hair-like, 9 €eude, unripe ; raw. 
 tubes. I 
 
 lesso:n^ yi. 
 
 THE BEST COSMETICS. 
 
 nOEACE SMITH. 
 
 1. Ye who would save your features florid, 
 
 • Lithe limbs, bright eyes, un wrinkled forehead, 
 From Age's devastation horrid, 
 
 Adopt this plan — 
 'Twill make, in climate cold or torrid, 
 
 A hale old man : 
 
 2. Avoid, in youth, luxurious diet ; 
 Restrain the passions' lawless riot ; 
 Devoted to domestic quiet. 
 
 Be wisely gay ; 
 So shall ye, spite of Age's fiat. 
 Resist decay. 
 
 3. Seek not, in Mammon's worship, pleasure ; 
 But find your richest, dearest treasure. 
 
 f #♦ 
 
1st DiV. OP . . . nUMA^ PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 35 
 
 In books, friends, music, polished leisure : 
 
 The mind, not sense, 
 Made the sole scale by which to measure 
 
 Your opulence. 
 
 4. This is the solace, this the science. 
 Life's purest, sweetest, best appliance. 
 That disappoints not man's reUance, 
 
 Whate'er his state ; 
 But challenges, with calm defiance, 
 
 Time, fortune, fate. 
 
 LESSON YIL 
 
 ABUSES OF THE DIGESTIVE ORGANS.— LAWS OF THEIR 
 HEALTHY ACTION. 
 
 1. We have seen not only that the bones and muscles are 
 formed from the blood, and kept in repair by it, but that the 
 blood itself is formed, by the labors of the digestive organs, 
 out of the food provided for them. It will readily be seen, 
 moreover, that the healthy action of these organs in manu- 
 facturing the blood must depend upon several conditions, 
 such as the proper quantity and quality of the food supplied 
 for them to work upon, the times and manner of the supply, 
 and the condition of the system^ when food is taken. 
 
 2. Without a suitable quantity of food, there will not be a 
 sufficient quantity of blood to build up the body, and keep it 
 in repair. When the body is growmg rapidly, as in youth, 
 more food is required as building material than when the pe- 
 riod of youth has ended. This accounts for the keen appe- 
 tite and vigorous digestion in childhood. For a similar rea- 
 son,vwhen the body has become emaciated^ by disease, or 
 want of nutriment, an increased supply is needed to repair 
 the waste. 
 
 3. It has been seen that muscular exertion increases the 
 flow of blood, for the purpose of repairing the waste that al- 
 ways attends action. Hence those accustomed to hard labor 
 require a greater supply of food than those of inactive habits 
 
36 willson's fourth EEADER. Paet I. 
 
 or sedentary^ occupations. When, therefore, the amount of 
 exercise is diminished, the quantity of food should be lessen- 
 ed ; and if this j)rinciple be disregarded, the tone* of the di- 
 gestive organs will be impaired,^ and the health of the system 
 enfeebled. The rule of temperance^ and its happy results, 
 are thus set forth by the poet Milton : 
 4. "If thou wouldst observe 
 
 The rule of not too 7nuch, by temp'rance taught, 
 
 In what thou cat'st and drink'st, seek from thence 
 
 Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, 
 
 Till many years over thy head return. 
 
 So may'st thou live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop 
 
 Into thy mother's lap,^ or be with ease 
 
 Gather'd, not harshly plucked, for death mature." 
 6. As a general rule for the quantity of food required, it 
 may be stated that no more should be taken, at any age, or 
 in any condition of the body, than is barely sufficient to sat- 
 isfy the natural appetite. By a natural appetite is to be un- 
 derstood an appetite that is not perverted by disease, nor by 
 mental excitement ; not stimulated by highly-seasoned dishes ; 
 and not vitiated'^ by a long period of gormandizing.^ An 
 unnecessary quantity of food oppresses the stomach, dulls the 
 intellect, and causes general languor^ of the whole body. 
 
 6. "While most kinds of plain food, including ripe fruits in 
 general, may be said to be of good quality, yet some kinds 
 contain a great amount of nutriment, and some but little. 
 Those which contain a very great proportion of nutriment, 
 such as butter, the oils, sugar, and fine flour, are found not to 
 digest so readily as coarser articles of diet, and not to be so 
 Well adapted to the purj^oses of nutrition. 
 
 7. A dog fed on pure sugar, or olive oil, will soon become 
 emaciated ; but mix bran, or even saw-dust, with the sugar 
 or the oil, and the vigor of the animal will be maintained for 
 months. Feed a horse on grain alone, and he will sooivdie ; 
 but mix hay or straw with it, and no bad efl*ects will be ex- 
 perienced. Our stomachs require, together with nutritious 
 food, a suitable proportion of coarse and bulky, but not indi- 
 gestible articles. Bread made from flour which contains a 
 portion of the bran is far more conducive to health than that 
 made from a finer material. 
 
1st DiV. OP . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 
 37 
 
 8. Animal food is found to be of a stimulating or warming 
 character, while vegetables are the oj^posite. While both are 
 adapted to nourish man, sometimes one is required, and some- 
 times the other. In childhood, when the organs are sensitive 
 and excitable, a vegetable diet is usually the most appropri- 
 ate, while to a person advanced in life an increased propor- 
 tion of animal food is often found desirable. As a general 
 rule, in the^ummer season a cooling vegetable diet is found 
 most conducive to health ; but those who are exj^osed to the 
 cold of winter find increased comfort in a greater proportion 
 of animal food. 
 
 9. Nature has adapted herself to this principle in stocking 
 the waters of the frozen regions of the world with an abund- 
 ant supply of animal life for food, w^hile vegetable life abounds 
 in the torrid zone. • The temperament^^ of the individual 
 should also influence the choice of food ; for while the dull 
 and phlegmatic^ ^ may indulge with impunity ^^ j^ a 'stimulat- 
 ing animal diet, the sanguine ^^ and excitable are liablq to be 
 injured by it. 
 
 10. Moreover, food should be taken at regular periods, and 
 at sufficient intervals to allow the process of digestion to be 
 completed, and the organs to obtain adequate repose before 
 they are required to resume their labors. Food or drink 
 taken very hot is a fruitful cause of decayed teeth, sore 
 mouths, and indigestion ; and when taken very cold it chills 
 the stomach, and likewise arrests the digestive process. 
 
 11. Finally, food should not be taken immediately before 
 nor immediately after severe mental exertion, or bodily toil, 
 nor for, at least, three hours before retiring to sleep. While 
 the brain is laboring under great excitement, the increased 
 flow of blood to that organ causes the stomach to cease its 
 labors ; and if, during sleep, the process of digestion is con- 
 tinued, the labor required of the stomach will often cause un- 
 quiet rest and troublesome dreams. It is also supposed that, 
 during sleep, the brain does not furnish the stomach the same 
 mental stimulus as during waking hours. 
 
 1 Rys'-tem, an assemblage of things formed 
 into a regular whole; here used for the 
 whole body. 
 
 2 E-ma'-oia-ted, thin ; wasted away. 
 
 3 Skd'-en-ta-ry, inactive ; accustomed to 
 
 sit much. 
 * Tone, healthy state or condition. 
 5*Im-paie'-ed, injured; weakened. 
 
38 WILLSON'S FOUBTH BEADER. Part I. 
 
 6 "Mother's lap," here used for the earth, lo Tkm-per-a-ment, state or constitution of 
 or grave. | the body. 
 
 7 Vi'-TiA-TET) (vish'-a-ted)., injured ; changed 
 from a healthy state. 
 
 8 Gor'-mand-iz-ing, eating greedily, and 
 too much. 
 
 9 Lan'-guok {larig-gioor) yfeeblencaa. 
 
 1 PnLEG-MAT'-i€, dull ; sluggish. 
 
 12 Im-pu'-mi-ty, exemi)tion from punish- 
 ment. 
 
 13 San'-gtjine (.sanjr-flfium), warm; ardent. 
 
 LESSOlSr VIII. 
 
 THE FABLE OF THE TWO BEES. 
 
 1. One fine morning in May, two bees set forward in quest^ 
 of honey ; the one wise and temperate, the other careless and 
 extravagant. They soon arrived at a garden enriched w^ith 
 aromatic^ herbs, the most fragrant flowers, and the most de- 
 licious fruits. They regaled^ themselves for a time on the 
 various dainties set before them ; the one loading his thighs 
 at intervals with wax for the construction of his hive, the 
 othfer reveling* in sweets, without regard to any thing but 
 present gratification. _.. At length they found a wide-mouthed 
 phial, that hung filled with honey beneath the bough of a 
 peach-tree. The thoughtless epicure,^ in spite of all his 
 friend's remonstrances, plunged headlong into the vessel, re- 
 solving to indulge himself in all the pleasures of sensuality.^ 
 
 2. The philosophic"'' bee, on thd other hand, sipped with cau- 
 tion ; but, being suspicious of danger, flew off" to fruits and 
 flowers, where, by the moderation of his meals, he improved 
 his rehsh for the true enjoyment of them. In the evening, 
 however, he called for his friend, to inquire whether he would 
 return to the hive, but found him surfeited^ in sweets which 
 he was as unable to leave as to enjoy. Clogged in his wings, 
 enfeebled in his legs, and liis whole frame enervated,^ he was 
 but just able to bid his friend adieu, and to lament with his 
 latest breath that, though a taste of pleasure may quicken the 
 relish of life, an unrestrained indulgence is inevitable^ ^ de- 
 struction. 
 
 1 Quest, search of. 
 
 » Ar-o-mat'-ic, fragrant ; havin'g an agree- 
 able odor. 
 
 3 Re-galed', feasted. 
 
 * Rev'-el-ing, feasting with noisy merri- 
 ment. 
 
 6 Ep'-r-€rrRE, one who indulges immoderate- 
 ly in the luxuries of eating. 
 
 6 Pen8-1j-al'-i-tt, unrestrained indulgence 
 of the appetites. 
 
 7 riiiL-o-8opn'-i€, temperate and reasona- 
 ble ; acting like a philosopher. 
 
 " Scr'-veTt-ed, filled to exoes? ; cloyed. 
 9 F.-NERv'-A-TEP, weakened ; enfeebled. 
 10 In-ev'-i-ta-ble, certain: unavoidabla 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 39 
 
 lesso:n^ IX. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT OF A STOMACH. 
 
 CnAJIBERS. 
 
 [Tile Stomach, after having suffered much from the great and unnecessary amount of 
 labor required of it, and from unseasonable m^ls, stimulating di'inks, and want of rest, 
 is supposed to make the following complaint.] 
 
 1. Being allowed for once to speak, I would take the op- 
 portunity to set forth how ill, in all respects, we stomachs are 
 used. From the beginning to the end of life, we are either 
 afflicted with too Httle or too much, or not the right thing, or 
 things which are horribly disagreeable to us ; or are other- 
 wise thrown into a state of discomfort. I do not think it 
 proper to take up a moment in bewailing the Too Little, for 
 that is an evil which is never the fault of our masters, but 
 rather the result of their misfortunes ; and, indeed, we would 
 sometimes feel as if it were a rehef from other kinds of dis- 
 tress, if we were put upon short allowance for a few days. 
 But we conceive ourselves to have matter for serious com- 
 plaint against mankind in respect of the Too Much, which is 
 always an evil voluntarily incurred. 
 
 2. What a pity that in the progress of discovery we can 
 not establish some means of a good understanding between 
 mankind and their stomachs ; for really the effects of their 
 non-acquaintance are most vexatious. Human beings seem 
 to be, to this day, completely in the dark as to what they 
 ought to take at any time, and err almost as often from ig- 
 norance as from depraved^ appetite. Sometimes, for instance, 
 when jk^e of the inner house are rather weakly, they will send 
 us down an article that we could deal with when only in a 
 state of robust health. Sometimes, when we would require 
 a mild vegetable diet, they will persist in the most stimulating 
 and irritating of viands.^ 
 
 3. What sputtering we poor stomachs have when mistakes 
 of that kind occur^ ! What remarks we indulge in regard- 
 ing our masters^ ! " What's this, now^ ?" Avill one of us say ; 
 " ah, detestable stuff ^ ! What a ridiculous fellow that man is^ ! 
 Will he never learn' ? Just the very thing I did not want. 
 
40 willson's foueth reader. Paet I. 
 
 If he would only send down a bowl of fresh leek soup, or 
 barley broth, there would be some sense in it :" and so on. 
 If we had only been allowed to give the slightest hint now 
 and then, Uke faithful servants as we are, from how many 
 miseries might we have saved both our masters and our- 
 selves^ ! 
 
 4. I have been a stomach for about forty years, during all 
 of which time I have endeavored to do my duty faithfully 
 and punctually. My master, however, is so reckless, that I 
 would defy any stomach of ordinary ability and capacity to 
 get along 23leasantly with him. The fact is, like almost all oth- 
 er men, he, in his eating and drinking, considers his own pleas- 
 ure only, and never once reflects on the poor Avretch who has 
 to be responsible for the disposal of every thing down stairs. 
 Scarcely on any day does he fail to exceed the strict rule of 
 temperance ; nay, there is scarcely a single meal which is al- 
 together what it ought to be. j\Iy life is therefore one of 
 continual worry and fret ; I am never allowed to rest from 
 morning till night, and have not a moment in the four-and- 
 twenty hours that I can safely call my own. 
 
 5. My greatest trial takes place in the evening, when my 
 master has dined. If you only saw what a mess this said 
 dinner is — soup, fish, flesh, fowl, ham, rice, potatoes, table- 
 beer, sherry, tart, pudding, cheese, bread, all mixed up togeth- 
 er. I am accustomed to the thing, so don't feel much shock- 
 ed ; but my master himself would faint at the sight. The 
 slave of duty in all circumstances, I call in my friend Gastric 
 Juice, and we set to work with as much good-will as if we 
 had the most agreeable task in the world before us. But, 
 unluckily, my master has an impression very firmly fixed upon 
 him that our business is apt to be vastly promoted' by an 
 hour or two's drinking; so he continues at table among his 
 friends, and pours down some bottle and a half of wine, per- 
 haps of various sorts, that bothers Gastric Juice and me to a 
 degree which no one can have any idea of. 
 
 6. In fact, this said wine undoes our work almost as fiist as 
 we do it, besides blinding and poisoning us poor servants into 
 the bargain. On many occasions I am obliged to give u^^ my 
 task for the time altogether ; for while this vinous^ shower is 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 41 
 
 going on I would defy the most vigorous stomach in the world 
 to make any advance in its business worth speaking of. Some- 
 times things go to a much greater length than at others ; and 
 my master will paralyze* us in this manner for hours, not al- 
 ways, indeed, with Avine,»but occasionally with punch, one in- 
 gredient of which — the lemon — is particularly odious to us. 
 All this time I can hear him jollifying away at a great rate, 
 drinking healths to his neighbors, and ruining his own. 
 
 7. I am a lover of early hours, as are^toy brethren gener- 
 ally. To this we are very much disposed by the extremely 
 hard work which we usually undergo during the day. About 
 ten o'clock, having, perhaps, at that time got all our labors 
 past, and feeling fatigued and exhausted, we like to sink into 
 repose, not to be again disturbed till next morning at break- 
 fast-time. Well, how it may be with others I can't tell ; but 
 s^ it is, that my master never scruples to rouse me up from 
 my first sleep, and give me charge of an entirely new meal, 
 after I thought I was to be my own master for the night. 
 This is a hardship of the most grievous kind. 
 
 8. Only imagine me, after having gathered in my coal, 
 drawn on my night-caj), and gone to bed, called up and made 
 to take charge of a quantity of stuff which I know I shall not 
 be able to get off my hands all night ! Such, O mankind, are 
 the woes which befall our tribe in consequence of your occa- 
 sionally yielding to the temptations of " a little supper." I 
 see turkey and tongue in grief and terror. Macaroni^ fills me 
 with frantic alarm. I behold jelly and trifle^ follow in mute 
 despair. O that I had the power of standing beside my mas- 
 ter, and holding his unreflecting hand, as he thus prepares for 
 my torment and his own ! 
 
 9. Here, too, the old mistaken notion about the need of 
 something stimulating besets him, and down comes a deluge 
 of hot spirits and water, that causes me to writhe in agony, 
 and almost sends Gastric Juice off in the sulks to bed. Nor 
 does the infatuated man rest here. If the company be agree- 
 able, one glass follows another, while I am kept standing, as 
 it were, with my sleeves tucked up, ready to begin, but un- 
 able to perform a single stroke of work. 
 
 10. I feel that the strength w^hich I ought to have at my 
 
42 WILLSOn's fourth reader. Part I. 
 
 present time of life has passed from me. I am getting weak, 
 and i^eevish, and evil-disposed. A comparatively small trouble 
 sits long and sore upcm me. Bile, from being my servant, is 
 becoming my master ; and a bad one he makes, as all good 
 servants ever do. I see nothing before me but a premature 
 old age of pains and groans, and gripes and grumblings, 
 which will, of course, not last over long ; and thus I shall be 
 cut short in my career, when I should have been enjoying 
 life's tranquil evening, without a single vexation of any kind 
 to trouble me. 
 
 11. Were I of a revengeful temper, it might be a consola- 
 tion to think that my master — the cause of all my woes — must 
 suffer and sink with me ; but I don't see how this can mend 
 my own case; and, from old acquaintance, I am rather dis- 
 posed to feel sorry for him, as one who has been more igno- 
 rant and imprudent than ill-meaning. In the same spirit let 
 me hope that this true and unaffected account of my case 
 may prove a warning to other persons how they use their 
 stomachs ; for, they may depend upon it, whatever injustice 
 they do to us, in their days of health and pride, will be repaid 
 to themselves in the long-run — our friend Madame Nature 
 being a remarkably accurate accountant, who makes no al- 
 lowance for ignorance or mistakes. 
 
 1 De-pkav'ed, comipted ; made bad. [S Mac-a-rO'-nT, a kind of drj paste made 
 3 Vi'-ANDS, food ; meat dressed. of wheat flour. 
 
 3 VI'-NOtTB, pertaining to wine. « Tki'-fle, a dish composed of layers of 
 
 * Pab'-a-lyzk, render unable to act. \ sweetmeats and cake, with syllabub. 
 
 LESSON X. 
 
 CORNARO THE ITALIAN. 
 
 1. CoRXARO w^as an Italian, who, by the simplest diet, a 
 quiet mode of life, and an unexampled perseverance in his 
 plan, happily attained to a great age, which richly rewarded 
 him for his self-denial, and gave an instructive lesson to pos- 
 terity. 
 
 2. One can not read the history of the hfe and abstinence 
 of this veteran of a hundred years, and hear how he praises 
 that serenity and contentment for which he was indebted to 
 
l3t DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 43 
 
 his mode of living, without participating^ in his happiness and 
 his cheerful sensations. 
 
 3. Till the fortieth year of his age, Cornaro had led a life 
 of dissipation.2 jj^ j^ad always been subject to colics, pains 
 in the limbs, and frequent attacks of fever. He was so far 
 reduced by the last that his physician assured him he could 
 not live above two months ; that all medicme would be use- 
 less; and that the only thing which could be recommended 
 for him was a spare diet. 
 
 4. Having followed this advice, Cornaro found, after some 
 days, that he was much better ; and at the end of a few years 
 his health was not only perfectly re-established, but he be- 
 came sounder than he had ever been before. He resolved, 
 therefore, to restrain himself more and more, and to use noth- 
 ing except what was absolutely necessary for his subsistence. 
 - 5. For sixty whole years he took no more than twelve 
 ounces of solid food and thirteen ounces of drink daily. He 
 avoided, also, violent heat and cold, as well as all excitement 
 and passion ; and by this uniform mode of life he kept not 
 only his body, but his mind also, in such a state of equality 
 that nothing was able to derange them. 
 
 6. When at a great age he lost an important lawsuit ; and 
 though this disappointment hurried two of his brothers to the 
 grave, he remained perfectly sound and resigned. He was 
 once thrown from a carriage and trodden under the feet of 
 the horses, so that an arm and one of his feet were dislocated,^ 
 but. by a still more temperate diet, and without the use of any 
 medicine, he was soon restored to his former condition. 
 
 7. But what is most worthy of remark, and proves how 
 dangerous the smallest deviation from long custom may be, 
 is what follows : When he was eighty years of age his friends 
 prevailed upon him to make a little addition to his food, in 
 the belief that his body now required more nourishment. 
 Though well aware that with the general decay of strength 
 the power of digestion decreases also, and that in old age one 
 ought rather to lessen than increase the quantity of nourish- 
 ment, he gave way to their request, and raised his food to 
 fourteen, and his drink to sixteen ounces. 
 
 8. "Scarcely," says he, "had I continued this mode of Uv- 
 
44 
 
 wtllson's foiteth eeader. 
 
 Paet I. 
 
 ing ten days when I began, instead of being lively and cheer- 
 ful as before, to become uneasy and dejected, a burden to 
 myself* and to others. On the twelfth day I w^as seized with 
 a pain in my side, which lasted twenty-four hours, and this 
 was followed by a fever which continued with so much vio- 
 lence for thirty-five days that my life was despaired of; but, 
 by the blessing of God, and my former temperate mode of 
 hie, I recovered, and now, in my eighty-third year, I enjoy a 
 happy state both of body and mind. 
 
 9, "I can mount my horse without assistance; I climb 
 steej) hills ; and I have lately written a play abounding in in- 
 nocent wit and humor. When I return from a private com- 
 pany, or the senate, I find eleven grandchildren, w^hose edu- 
 cation, amusement, and songs are the delight of my old age. 
 I often sing with them, for my voice is now clearer and 
 stronger than it ever was in my youth ; and I am a stranger 
 to those peevish^ and morose^ humors^ which fall so often to 
 the lot of old age." In this happy disposition the wise and 
 virtuous Cornaro attained to his hundredth year, but his ex- 
 ample has seldom, if ever, been imitated. 
 
 1. Pae-tic'-i-pa-ting, taking part in ; par- 
 taking. 
 
 2 Dis-si-pa'-tion, a dissolute or intemper- 
 ate course of life. 
 
 3 Dl6'-L0-€A-TED, put OUt of joint. 
 
 * Pee'-vibh, fretful, 
 s Mo-eose', sour ; sullen. 
 6 IIC'-MOES, peculiarities of temper or die- 
 position. 
 
 LESSON XI. 
 ADVANTAGES OF TEMPERANCE IN DIET. 
 
 HITCHCOCK. 
 
 1. Temperance promotes clearness and vigor of intellect. 
 If the brain be not in a healthy and vigorous state, equally 
 unhealthy and inefficient must be the mind also. History 
 will bear us out in asserting, that the highest and most suc- 
 cessfufKntellectuaP efforts have ever been associated with the 
 practice of those general principles of temperance in diet for 
 which we plead. 
 
 2. It is the mighty minds that have grappled most success- 
 fully with the demonstrations^ of mathematical, intellectual, 
 and moral science, that stand highest on the scale of mental 
 
Ist DiV. OP . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 45 
 
 acumen^ and power ; and it is such minds that have found 
 strict temperance in diet essential to their success. Let us 
 advert to the history of a few of the master spirits of the 
 human race. . * 
 
 3. Foremost on the list stands that eminent philosopher 
 and mathematician, Sir Isaac Newton. The treatise* of his, 
 that cost him the mightiest intellectual effort of all his works, 
 was composed while the body was sustained by bread and 
 water alo:^e. And in spite of the wear and tear of such pro- 
 tracted and prodigious mental labor as his, that same temper- 
 ance sustained him to his eighty-fifth year. 
 
 4. That celebrated intellectual philosopher, John Locke, 
 with a feeble constitution,^ outlived the term of threescore^ 
 years and ten by his temperance. " To this temperate mode 
 of life, too, he was probably indebted for the increase of those 
 intellectual powers, which gave birth to his great work on the 
 human understanding, his treatises on government and edu- 
 cation, as well as his other writings, which do so much honor 
 to his memory." 
 
 5. Another intellectual philosopher, who saw fourscore 
 years, w^as the venerable Kant. " By this commendable and 
 healthy practice," early rising, says his biographer, " daily 
 exercise on foot, temperance in eating and drinking, constant 
 employment, and cheerful company, he protracted his life to 
 this advanced period ;" and we may add, acquired the power 
 for his immense labors of mind. 
 
 6. Few men have more fully established their claims to in- 
 tellectual superiority of a very high grade than that American 
 theologian. President Edwards. But it was temperance alone 
 that could carry him through such powerful mental efibrts. 
 " Though of a delicate constitution, by the rules of temper- 
 ance he enjoyed good health, and was enabled to pursue his 
 studies thirteen hours a day." 
 
 7. The same means enabled the great German reformer, 
 Martin Luther, though his days were stormy in the extreme, 
 to make the moral world bend at his will, and to leave for 
 his posterity so many profound literary productions. "It 
 often happened," says his biographer, " that for several days 
 and nights he locked himself up in his study, and took no 
 
46 willson's foueth eeader. Part I. 
 
 other nourishment than bread and water, that he might the 
 more uninterruptedly pursue his labors." 
 
 8. The records of English jurisprudence"^ contain scarcely 
 a name more distinguished than that of Sir Matthew Hale. 
 And it is the testimony of history, that " his decided piety 
 and rigid temperance laid him operf to the attacks of ridicule ; 
 but he could not be moved." In eating and drinking, he ob- 
 served not only great plainness and moderation, but lived so 
 philosophically that he always ended his meal with an appe- 
 tite. 
 
 9. Perhaps no man has accomphshed more for the world 
 than he who has written such a commentary on the Scriptures 
 as that of Matthew Henry. And it is, indeed, an immense 
 literary labor. But the biographer's account of that writer's 
 habits shows that temperance and diligence were the secret 
 of his success. 
 
 10. Few men have accomplished more than the distinguish- 
 ed Methodist divine, John Wesley ; and it is gratifying to 
 learn that it was " extraordinary temperance which gave him 
 the power to do so much, and to live so long." 
 
 11. In reading the poetical works of Milton, we are not so 
 much delighted with the play of imagination, as with the rich 
 and profound views which he opens before us. The fact is, he 
 was a man of powers and attainments so great as justly to be 
 classed among the leading intellects of the world. Nor were 
 such powers and attainments disjoined^ from temperance. 
 
 12. Europe, as well as America, has been filled with the 
 fame of Franklin, the philosopher ; and no less wide spread 
 is the history of his temperance. Early in life he adopted a 
 vegetable diet ; and thus he not only gained time for study, 
 but " I made the greater progress," says he, " from that great- 
 er clearness of head and quickness of apprehension which 
 generally attend temperance in eating and drinking." The 
 habit of being contented with a little, and disregarding the 
 gratifications of the palate,^ remained with him through life. 
 
 1 In-tkl-lect'-C-al, pertaining to the mind!* €on-sti-tO'-tion, bodily system ; the hu* 
 
 or intellect. | man body itself. 
 
 3 Dem-on-steS'-tion, the act of stating and 6 'i'nuKK'-stoKE, a score is twenty. 
 
 proving truths. y Ju-Ris-rRc'-DENOE, the science of law. 
 
 3 A-€C'-MEN, quickness of mind ; readiness. 8 Dis-joined', separated from. 
 * TbEat'-isb itreet'-u)^ a written work. !» Pal'-ate, taste ; the appetite. 
 
1st DlV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 
 47 
 
 LESSON XII. 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 Blackwood's magazine. 
 
 1. There's somewhat on my breast\ father'", 
 
 There's somewhat on my breast^ ! 
 The Hve-long day I sigh\ father', 
 
 At night I can not rest^ ; 
 I can not take my rest\ father', 
 
 Though I w^ould fam^ do so, 
 A weary weight oj^presseth me — 
 
 The weary weight of woe ! 
 
 2. 'Tis not the lack of gold', father', 
 
 Nor lack of worldly gear' f 
 My lands are broad and fair to see, 
 
 My friends are kind and dear ; 
 My kin are leaP and true\ father,' 
 
 They mourn to see my grief,' 
 But, O ! 'tis not a kinsman's hand 
 
 Can give my heart relief! 
 
 2. 'Tis not that Janet's false', father', 
 
 'Tis not that she's unkind' ; 
 Though busy flatterers swarm around, 
 
 I know her constant mind. 
 'Tis not her coldness', father'. 
 
 That chills my laboring breast'. 
 It's that confounded* cucumber 
 
 I've eat,5 and can't digest ! 
 
 1 Fain, gladly ; •with joy or pleasure. 
 
 2 Gkar, clothing ; ornaments ; possessions. 
 
 3 Leal (Scottish), faithful. 
 
 * €oN-pouNi>'-ED, that which ou^ht to be 
 
 condemned. 
 5 "I've eat," a poetic license for "J have 
 
 eaten." 
 
 Temperance is the best physic. 
 
 The best physicians are Dr. Diet, Dr. Quiet, and Dr. Merry- 
 man. 
 Diet cures more than the lancet. 
 
48 WILLSON S FOUETH KEADEK. Part I 
 
 LESSON xm. 
 
 THE ORGANS OF CIRCULATION AND OF RESPIRATION : 
 The Heakt, Aktekies, Capillaries, Veins, and Lungs. 
 
 1. Near the centre of the upper portion of the body, but 
 a little on the left side, is the hearty the great working engine 
 which sends the blood to all portions of the system, to do its 
 work of building up and keeping in rej^air the house we 
 live in. We have given a brief account of the formation of 
 the blood — the material which the heart uses; and we now 
 proceed to describe the manner in which this building and 
 repairing process is carried on. 
 
 2. We will commence by informing you that your hearty a 
 drawing of which we place before you, is a strong muscular 
 organ, but little larger than your fist, and containing four 
 cavities. The upper cavity on the right side, which is called 
 the right auricle^ receives the blood from the body through 
 a number of large veins ; this auricle then contracts^ by the 
 power of its muscles, and forces the blood into the cavity be- 
 low it, called the right ventricle? The right ventricle then, 
 contracts and sends the blood to the lungs ; the left auricle^ 
 which is the upper cavity on the left side of the heart, receives 
 the blood back from the lungs, and forces it into the left ven- 
 tricle below it ; and the left ventricle forces the blood through 
 the arteries all over the body. 
 
 3. This is a very brief explanation of the labor which the 
 heart has to perform in circulating the blood. But now let us 
 trace the course which the blood takes, from the time when it 
 is received from the body into the right auricle until it has per- 
 formed its round of circulation and gets back again ; then we 
 shall begin to realize what a curious and wonderful piece of 
 machinery these circulating and breathing organs are. 
 
 4. When the blood is received into the right auricle of the 
 heart it is of a dark color, and full of the waste and impure 
 particles which it has received from aU parts of the body. 
 K this impure blood should be sent in this condition through- 
 out the body, death would very soon be the result. The 
 
1st Dir. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 
 49 
 
 blood, therefore, must be cleansed, and the impure particles 
 thrown away, and for this purpose the right ventricle takes 
 charge of it and sends it to the lungs. 
 
 5. But how can the lungs purify the blood ? In order to 
 explain how, we must first describe the lungs themselves. 
 The lungs are large sponge-like masses, which fill up nearly 
 the whole cavity of the chest on each side of the heart. The 
 air which we breathe passes into them ; and through a vast 
 number of little channels, which terminate in very minute air- 
 cells, it is brought in contact with every portion of the sponge- 
 like structm-e of the lungs. 
 
 6. The arteries which run from the right ventricle to the 
 lungs branch out in millions of little tubes, not so large as a 
 
 Fig. 11. 
 
 ClECtTLATIOX OV THE ElOOD THROUGH THE HeART AND LtTNGB. 
 
 The Right Auricle re- 
 ceives the impure ve- 
 nous blood from the body 
 thiough the veins D.V. 
 (the descending vena 
 cava"), and A. V. (the as 
 cend ing vena cava). 
 
 At / is the opening 
 through which the blood 
 is forced into the right 
 ventricle. Here ia the 
 t iLuspid valce^ wliich 
 closes when the blood at- 
 tempts to return. 
 
 The Right Ventricle^ 
 hy contracting, forces the 
 impure blood through 
 the two branches of the 
 pulmonary artery {P. A.) 
 mto both lungs. The 
 lids of the valve at d 
 Av ould close if the blood 
 -houLd attempt to re- 
 tui n 
 
 1 he blood, having 
 been purified in the 
 lungi and lost its darlc 
 coloi , is sent back to the 
 htdit through several 
 canals, which fonn at 
 length four large trunks 
 calk d jnilvionary veins^ 
 and these terminate in 
 the Left Auricle by one 
 
 common opening, as seen at o. Only two of these pulmonary veins, P. F., P. F., are seen 
 
 in the drawing. 
 The Left Auricle forces the blood into the Left Ventricle^ through the opening rr, 
 
 where is placed the mitral valve to prevent its return. The Left Ventricle then forces 
 
 the blood into the large artery called the aorta, which distributes it to all parts of the 
 
 body, to be returned again to the Right Auricle through the veins A . V. and D. F. 
 When the blood is forced into the aorta, the lids of the valve at the entrance e fall 
 
 back against the sides of the artery ; but when the blood attempts to return, they come 
 
 together and prevent it. 
 At a, ^, and c are arteries branching off from the aorta to the head, arms, etc. 
 
 c 
 
50 
 
 WILLSON'S FOUETH EEADEK. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 hair, all over the ah'-channels and air-cells of the lungs, and by 
 them the blood is brought into close contact with the air we 
 breathe. The impure particles of the blood, which are found 
 chiefly in what we shall hereafter describe as carbonic acid^ 
 gas, are now thrown into the air-cells and air-channels, and 
 breathed out of the body through the mouth and nostrils in 
 the form of vapor. At the same time, the remaining blood in 
 the blood-vessels of the lungs takes in a portion of oxygeyi 
 from the air, and receives thereby a bright red color, very dif- 
 ferent from the dark hue it had on entering the lungs. The 
 blood, being thus purified, is returned to the heart, from which 
 it is again sent forth through channels called arteries to every 
 part of the body. 
 
 7. These arteries branch out into the smallest tubes that 
 can be conceived, many of them invisible to the naked eye. 
 They spread over every muscle and bone in the body, and 
 throughout the skin, and from the blood thus received every 
 part of the body is built up. 
 
 8. How wonderful it is that this single fluid — formed, per- 
 haps, as it may be, out of some one simple material, such as the 
 
 Fig. 12. While Fig. 11 is a diagram design- 
 
 Thb Hkakt and Lungs, with the Outer Cover- ^d to show the manner in which the 
 
 IKQ OF Ti£B Lungs Uemoved. 
 
 blood circulates through the heart and 
 lungs, and can not, therefore, be a 
 strictly accurate drawing of those or- 
 gans, Fig. 12 is a true representation 
 of the heart in its natural position, 
 showing also the lungs, after their 
 front outer covering has been removed. 
 
 At 12 is the Idr'-yyix^ or upper part 
 of the windpipe; 11 is the trd'-che-d^or 
 windpipe, -which conve3'3 air to the 
 lungs. Back of the upper part of the 
 heart the trd'-che-d divides into the 
 two bronchial tubcft. These bronchial 
 tubes branch out all over the lungs in 
 minute subdivisions, and ultimately 
 terminate in a vast number of minute 
 air-cells, from the twentieth to the 
 himdredth of an inch in diameter. 
 These air-cells are so numerous that 
 the amount of surface contained in 
 their lining m'embrane in man hj^ been 
 computed to exceed 140 square feet ! 
 
 At 1 is seen a part of the left auricle, 
 most of this auricle being on the back 
 part of the heart ; 2, right auricle ; 3, 
 left ventricle; 4, right ventricle; 5, 
 pulmonary artery ; 6, aorta ; 7, de- 
 scending rena cava ; 13, upper lobe of 
 right lung ; 14, upper lobe of left lung; 
 16, IG, lower lobea of lungs. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 61 
 
 potato — should be capable of being put to so many different 
 uses ! that out of it the brittle bones are made, the soft and 
 pulpy brain, the hard and horny nails, the silky haii', the flesh, 
 the fat,,the skin, the bitter bile, the salt perspiration, every 
 thing, in fact, from the sweat on the brow of labor to the 
 dew on the Hp of beauty ! And yet such is the case. A 
 mysterious poAver, engaged in building up and nourishing our 
 bodies, is constantly working within us — a power which we 
 can not fathom, which we can not comprehend. He only, 
 who created it, knows the hidden causes of its action. 
 
 9. At the ends of the myriads* of minute channels in which 
 the arteries terminate, are the beginnings of other minute 
 channels which receive the blood, and use it in repairing the 
 body. All these minute hair-like blood-vessels, which con- 
 nect the arteries and the veins, are called capillaries.^ Into 
 the returning veins such particles of the body as are worn 
 out and useless are carried by the capillaries, and thus the 
 Wood again begins to be filled with impurities; and by the 
 time it gets back to the right auricle of the heart it is a dark 
 and filthy stream, and must be again sent to the lungs to have 
 its color and its purity restored. 
 
 10. Such is the circuit which the blood is constantly mak- 
 ing, in carrying on the repairs of the system, and removing 
 its waste particles. And all the blood in the body, which is 
 estimated at nearly ten quarts in a person of full size, is sup- 
 posed to pass through the heart as often as once in six or eight 
 minutes. The heart is the great engine which keeps it in mo- 
 tion. And so long as life lasts, it keeps beating away, stroke 
 after stroke — sometimes seventy or eighty, and sometimes 
 more than a hundred and fifty times in a minute — forcing the 
 blood onward through the arteries, dispersing it through the 
 capillaries, receiving it back through the veins, never stopping 
 a moment, and never wearying of the labor which God has 
 assigned to it. 
 
 11. And all this it does without any thought of ours, and 
 without any direction from us. Its action is involuntary — 
 that is, it is not, like the movements of our hands and feet, 
 dependent on our will. Our will can not even stop its ac- 
 tion ; for it works by a will greater than ours, by the will of 
 
62 
 
 willson's fourth keadee. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 Him who made it, whose servant it is, and whose servants 
 we are. Yet its labors gradually wear upon it ; it can not 
 keep going forever. It seems strange to us that it should 
 keep going so long. But though it may exert itself millions 
 of times in our service, each pulsation brings it nearer and 
 nearer to the end. 
 
 "Art is long, and time is fleeting ; 
 
 And our hearts^ though stout and brave, 
 Still, like muffled druins, are beating 
 Funeral inarches to the grave.'''' 
 
 » ^u'-Ei-cxE (from the Latin auris^ an ear), 
 so called from its supposed resemblance 
 to the ear of a quadruped. 
 
 2 €ON-TBA€Tt(', draws together. 
 
 3 Ven'-tei-€lb ; this word is applied, gen- 
 
 erally, to cavities in animal bodies. There 
 
 are ventricles in the brain. 
 * Myr'-i-ad8, countless numbers. 
 5 €ap'-il-t,a-bie8 (from the Latin capillus^ 
 
 a hair), long hair-like tubes. 
 
 LESSON XIV. 
 A HYMN. 
 
 1. When- I with curious eyes survey 
 
 My complicated frame, 
 I read in every part inscribed 
 My great Creator's name. 
 
 2. He bade^ the purple flood of life 
 
 In circling streams to flow. 
 And sent the genial heat around. 
 Through every part to glow. 
 
 3. My heaving lungs, while they have power 
 
 To fan the vital frame. 
 Shall sing thy praises, O my God ! 
 Thy wond'rous skill proclaim. 
 
 ' Pronounced bad. 
 
 AIR AND EXERCISE. 
 
 LONDON QUARTERLY REVIEW. 
 
 Special attention should be given, both by parents and 
 teachers, to the physical development of the child. Pure air 
 and free exercise are indispensable, and wherever either of 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 63 
 
 these is withheld, the consequences will be certain to extend 
 themselves over the whole future life. The seeds of protract- 
 ed and hopeless suffering have, in innumerable instances, 
 been sown in the constitution of the child simply through 
 ignorance of this grea;t fundamental physical law ; and the 
 time has come when the united voices of these innocent vic- 
 tims should ascend, "trumpet-tongued," to the ears of every 
 parent and every teacher in the land. " Give us free air and 
 wholesome exercise ; give us leave to develop our expanding 
 energies in accordance with the laws of our being; give us 
 full scope for the elastic and bounding impulses of our youth- 
 ful blood!" 
 
 LESSON XV. 
 ABUSES OF THE LUNGS. 
 
 1. As the chief office of the lungs is to purify the blood, 
 through the medium of the air which is taken into them in 
 breathing, it will readily be seen that if impure air be in- 
 haled,^ the blood will not be purified. Pure air is composed 
 chiefly of two invisible gases, which are always mixed in ex- 
 actly the same proportions — that is, a hundred pounds of 
 pure air consist of twenty-one pounds of oxygen and seven- 
 ty-nine of nitrogen. The proportions are the same whether 
 the air be collected on the top of high mountains, over 
 marshes, or over deserts. 
 
 2. When this air is taken into the lungs, the blood sent 
 there from the heart is purified in the following manner. 
 The oxygen of the air, having a strong affinity for the blood 
 — that is, having a strong tendency to unite with it — leaves 
 the nitrogen, and, passing into the blood-vessels, mixes there 
 with the blood and the chyle, and completes the process of 
 changing the latter into pure blood. This is the first step in 
 the process. The second is the following : 
 
 3. The waste particles of the body consist chiefly of a sub- 
 stance called carbon^ which has a strong affinity for oxygen 
 — ^that is, it unites readily with it. The union of carbon and 
 oxygen forms what is called carbonic acid gas, which is a 
 
54 willson's fourth EEADER. Part I. 
 
 poison to the body, and needs to be removed from. it. This 
 union of the waste particles of the body with, oxygen is ef- 
 fected in the capillary blood-vessels which we have before 
 described ; and the impurities of the blood in the veins are 
 thus changed into carbonic acid gas, for the purpose of be' 
 ing easily removed. When the blood reaches the lungs, 
 the carbonic acid gas, which mixes readily with the air, is 
 thrown off through the mouth and nostrils in the process of 
 breathing. Thus the process of purifying the blood is com- 
 pleted. 
 
 4. It is the chemicaP union of carbon and oxygen in the 
 capillary vessels that gives loarmtli to the body. When a 
 piece of wood is burned in the open air, the same kind of 
 union between the carbon of the wood and the oxygen of the 
 air takes place, and carhonic acid gas is produced by the fire, 
 the same as by the union of carbon and oxygen in our bodies. 
 Thus there is a slow fire constantly burning within us. The 
 stomach provides the fuel, the lungs supply the oxygen to 
 consume it, the arteries carry the fuel and fire to the capilla- 
 ries, where the combustion^ takes i^lace, and the smoke pass- 
 es off through the mouth and nostrils. If w^e should allow 
 that fire to go out by not providing a supply of carbon in our 
 food, and of oxygen in the air we breathe, the result would 
 be death. 
 
 5. The poisonous carbonic acid gas, whether thrown off 
 from the lungs or produced by combustion, can not be in- 
 haled without danger, as it not only furnishes no oxygen for 
 purifying the blood, but it adds additional poison to it. The 
 quantity of this gas thrown off from the lungs of a man is not 
 less than twenty-four cubic inches each minute, or more than 
 six gallons during an hour ; and, at the same time, an equal 
 quantity of oxygen is withdrawn from the air around him, so 
 that a very large quantity of air is thus rendered impure, and 
 unfit to be taken into the lungs. 
 
 6. We see at once, therefore, the danger of breathing over 
 again our own breath, or the breath of others. When a per- 
 son sleeps with his head covered by the bedclothes, he is 
 breathing poisoned air ; and, if he sleeps in a small and close 
 room, he is in danger from the same cause. A close room, 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTg. 66 
 
 crowded with persons, soon becomes so filled with the poi- 
 sonous gas as to produce a kind of stupor* and violent head- 
 ache in those who breathe it. Crowded school-rooms, church, 
 es, and all pubUc assembly rooms, therefore require to be 
 ventilated^ by the constant or frequent admission of fresh 
 air, in order to remove the poison and furnish a new supply 
 of oxygen. 
 
 7. Many sad results have occurred from an ignorance or 
 disregard of this principle, but we have room to cite only 
 one. In the year 1756 one hundred and forty-six English- 
 men were shut up in Calcutta, in a room called the Black 
 Hole, which was a confined space, partly undergroimd, and 
 only eighteen feet square. There were only two very small 
 windows by which air could be admitted, and, as both of 
 these were on the same side, a free ventilation was utterly 
 impossible. 
 
 8. Scai^ely was the door closed upon the prisoners when 
 their suflerings commenced, and in a short time a delirious^ 
 and mortaP struggle ensued to get near the windows. With- 
 in four hours those who survived lay in the silence of apo- 
 plectic^ stupor ; and, at the end of six hours, ninety-six had 
 been relieved by death. In the morning, when the door was 
 opened, only twenty-three were found alive ; and many of 
 these were subsequently carried off by putrid fevers, caused 
 by the poisonous air which they had breathed. 
 
 9. As no heat or combustion can be produced without 
 consuming oxygen, and giving out in its place carbonic acid 
 gas, we learn that the air of highly-heated rooms must be 
 impure. If a lighted taper be placed in a closed jar contain- 
 ing common air, the oxygen will soon be burned up, its place 
 will be supplied with carbonic acid gas and vapor, and the 
 light of the taper will be extinguished. If a living animal, a 
 "mouse, for example, be now placed in the jar, and especially 
 at the lower part of it, the animal will almost immediately go 
 into convulsions,^ and die in two or three minutes. 
 
 10. As pure charcoal consists wholly of carbon, the burn- 
 ing of charcoal produces a large quantity of carbonic acid 
 gas ; and every year cases occur of individuals having lost 
 their lives by entering close rooms in which charcoal was 
 
56 
 
 willson's foueth eeadee. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 burning. As this gas is much heavier than common ah-, it 
 may occupy the lower portion of a room near the floor, while 
 the air above may be nearly free from its influence. Persons 
 have also lost their lives by descending into deep pits, wells, 
 and mines, which contain carbonic acid gas. Before venturing 
 into such places the precaution should be used of letting down 
 a Hghted candle ; if the light be extinguished, or burn feebly, 
 carbonic acid may be known to exist there.* 
 
 11. From the principles explained, it must be evident to 
 every one that whatever deprives the lungs of their natural 
 supply of oxygen, prevents the complete purification of the 
 blood, by retaining the poisonous carbonic acid gas in the 
 system, thereby sowing the seeds of disease and death. When 
 air is taken into the lungs in breathing, so as to fill them, the 
 lungs swell out, and the chest enlarges by its own free action, 
 so as to give them an abundance of room ; but if the muscles 
 and ribs of the chest be restrained by pressure frojii expand- 
 ing freely, the required suj^ply of oxygen can not be obtained. 
 
 12. And yet, notwithstanding all that has been said and 
 written on this subject, there are those who scarcely seem to 
 
 The eflfect produced upon the ribs by compressing tlie chest, tlirough a long continued 
 practice of tight lacing, may be seen in Fig. 14, which is no caricature, but is what ia 
 often seen in real life. In Fig. 13 the ribs are seen in their natural healthy position, 
 gradually swelling out from above, and affording abundance of room for a full inflation ^k 
 of the lungs. In Fig 14 the chest has been made by tight lacing to assume the form of ^^■ 
 an inverted cone ; the ribs are brought much more closely together than is natural, and 
 pressed downward ; and the capacity of the lungs is diminished nearly one half. In the 
 same proportion is the supply of oxygen diminished, and the impurities of the blood re- 
 tained in the system. 
 
 Fig. 13. Fig. 14. 
 
 The Skeleton as Nature formud it. The Skeleton as DEFOUiiED by Art. 
 
 • When discovered it may often be absorbed by quick lime, when it can not be draira 
 off or dissipated by ventilation. 
 
1st Dir. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 57 
 
 be aware, if we may judge from their actions, that any harm 
 can arise from compressing the ribs, and thereby preventing 
 the free expansion of the lungs ! Many will doubtless be 
 startled on being seriously told that tight lacing of the chest 
 poisons the current of life at its fountain head ! But there is 
 abundant warrant for the oft-repeated assertion, however 
 harsh it may seem, that this practice is only a fashionable 
 mode of self-murder ! Yet weak-minded mothers, as devoid 
 of correct taste as they are destitute of just notions of parent- 
 al duty, and holding a silly fashion dearer than life itself, con- 
 tinue to initiate their daughters in this folly and wickedness ; 
 and they begin this torture of their children at the tender 
 age when the bones of the body are so soft and yielding, that 
 they soon grow into the deformity with which Art attempts 
 to supplant Nature ! 
 
 13. The consequences of compressing the chest by tight 
 lacing, or by tight-fitting dresses^ as described by all physi- 
 cians and physiologists, are usually these. If the victim be 
 originally strong and robust, the flushed face soon indicates 
 the torture which the brain endures. ligature, restrained in 
 one direction, makes known its wants in another, and gives 
 undue expansion to the head, arms, and shoulders, and lower 
 extremities. The hands and feet become large and clumsy, 
 the spine becomes distorted, and the body is made crooked. 
 But persevering Art at length overcomes the energy of Na- 
 ture, and a long train of nervous affections gradually tortures 
 the victim to death. 
 
 14. But if, on the other hand, the victim be originally frail 
 and delicate, Nature is soon conquered, and the final result is 
 more speedily attained. As a first indication of the consum- 
 ing poison within, the glow of health fades from the cheek, 
 and the rose gives place to the lily, the appetite is soon gone, 
 digestion becomes bad, and a hectic^^ flush and hacking 
 cough, the precursors'^ of a hasty consumption, point too 
 surely to an early grave. 
 
 15. Some persons have small taper waists from birth ; but, 
 as it is against the general law of Nature, and an indication 
 of a frail and sickly body, it may justly be considered a de- 
 formity. Such, indeed, it was regarded by the ancient Greeks, 
 
 C2 
 
58 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH READER. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 whose model of female beauty, the Yenus de Medicis,^^ ^^m 
 the acknowledged standard among the refined and intelligent 
 of all nations, presents, in the fully developed waist, that per- 
 fect natural symmetry of the human form which alone is 
 consistent with the healthy action of the organs of Hfe. 
 
 16. The defect of a waist unhealthily small may generally 
 be remedied, and a healthy form attained, by a judicious ex- 
 ercise of the lungs, by walking in the open air, reading aloud, 
 singing, sitting erect, and fully infiatingi^ the lungs at each 
 inspiration.^'^ . If the exercise be properly managed and per- 
 severed in, it will expand the chest and give tone and health 
 to the lungs ; but if it be ill-timed or carried to excess, it will 
 be productive of injury. 
 
 17. We would say to all, then, who desire health and 
 beauty — for the latter can never be attained without the for- 
 mer — take care of your lungs^ and give them all that freedom 
 of action and pure air which nature demands for them. Do 
 not think you can violate with impunity the laws which a 
 wise and just Providence has established for your well-being. 
 " Let His work be preserved in its simplicity and perfection, 
 and let not the whims of folly or the caprice of fashion, by 
 distorting the shape, attempt to make improvements on the 
 masterpiece of the Almighty."* 
 
 1 In-hal'ed, drawn into the lungs. 
 
 2 €uem'-ic-al, pertaining to chemistry; a 
 more intimate union than can be obtained 
 by mere mixing. 
 
 3 CoM-Bus'-TiON, burning ; the action of fire 
 in consuming a body. 
 
 * StO'-poe, inaction ; dullness. 
 
 5 Vi5N'-Ti-LA-TET>, exposcd to the action of 
 wind or pure air. 
 
 6 De-ltr'-i-ou8, insane; frantic. 
 ' Moe'-tal, violent ; deadly. 
 
 8 Ap-o-rLEC'-Ti€, arising from apopUxy; 
 a stopping of the functions of the brain. 
 
 9 Con-vEl'-bions, spasms; involuntary 
 contortions of the muscles. 
 
 10 He€'-ti€, arising from fever. 
 
 11 Pee-€Ck'-80e, a forerunner; that which 
 indicates the approach of an event. 
 
 12 Mkd'-i-cis. 
 
 13 In-flat'-ing, puffing out with air. 
 
 1* In-8pi-k.a'-tion, the act of drawing air 
 into the lungs. 
 
 * Deformity of the spine may be caused or increased by wrong positions either in sit- 
 ting or in sleeping. If the body be placed in a perfectly horizontal position during sleep, 
 all pressure will be removed from the cartilage cushions between the vertebraB of the 
 spine, and thus, for seven or eight hours out of the twenty-four, they will be enabled 
 gradually to return to their natural form. Jt is found by measurement that, in this way, 
 the spine is every night lengthened — the cartilages recovering, by their elasticity, a slight 
 increase of thickness. Thus every person is a little taller in the morning than at night. 
 
 I'ut when a person sleeps with a liigh pillow, so that the spine is bent through the 
 night, this relieving process is not allowed to certain portions of the spinal column. 
 Where delicacy of constitution particularly aft'ects the back, the spine becomes more or 
 IcBS distorted by this position. This shows why children should not be allowed high pil- 
 lows, and why they should be taught to Bleep on both sides, if there is any danger of their 
 bolstering up their heads too high. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 69 
 
 LESSON XYI. 
 
 THE SKIN.— ITS COMPLICATED MECHANISM. 
 
 1. The skin is a very curious piece of meclianism,^ and it 
 performs many wonderful and important offices. The more 
 we study it, the more we shall find in it to surprise us ; the 
 more to admire in the wisdom which planned it; and the 
 more fully we shall be convinced that the preservation of 
 health depends as much upon the proper care we take of it, 
 as of the organs within the body. 
 
 2. The skin is not merely a thin covering for the body, 
 just to keep it warm, or to protect the parts from injury. 
 It is something more than this. When we examine it wo 
 find that it is really very complicated" in structure, and we 
 begin to wonder what can be the object of so curious a piece 
 of machinery. 
 
 3. First, all over the surface of the body is a very thin and 
 transparent layer, called the cuticle^ or scarf-skin. It is, at 
 first, a thin fluid that is poured out from the blood-vessels of 
 the skin, and which, spreading over the true skin, becomes 
 hardened into a thin layer. It is constantly forming, and 
 constantly passing away. It has neither nerves nor blood- 
 vessels, and is therefore without feeling. It is like the outer 
 or rough bark of trees. On the under side of the cuticle is a 
 thin colored layer, that gives color to the complexion. 
 
 4. Below the cuticle is what is called the true skin ; and 
 this is full of, 1st, arteries and veins, or capillary blood-ves- 
 sels ; 2d, nerves ; 3d, lymphatic vessels ; 4th, oil-tubes ; and, 
 5th, perspiratory tubes. Let us see if we can understand 
 something of the number, arrangement, plan, and uses of 
 these vessels ; for we may be assured this complicated mech- 
 anism was not made in vain. 
 
 The Capillaries of the Skin. — 5. The arteries, bring- 
 ing the blood from the heart, branch out all over the skin in 
 a net- work of minute fibres ; and in this net-work, so fine that 
 the eye can not trace all its parts, the veins begin, and, gath- 
 ering up the blood, carry it back to the heart again. This net- 
 
60 WILLSON S FOUETH READER. PabT I. 
 
 Fig. 15. work connecting the arteries and veins, spread all 
 through the true skin like the smallest imaginar 
 ble hairs interlacing and crossing each other in 
 every direction, is a part of what is called the 
 capillary system. The drawing here given, 
 showing an artery carrying the blood to the 
 capillaries, and a vein taking it back to the heart, 
 is a magnified view of what, in reality, is not so 
 large as a pin-head. 
 6. But these capillary blood-vessels are not only spread 
 over the skin, but also over and through every muscle, and 
 bone, and nerve, and to every part of the body that requires 
 nourishment. By the blood coming from the arteries every 
 part is thus nourished ; and by the veins the waste particles 
 are carried away to be thrown out of the system. So nu- 
 merous are these capillary vessels in the skin, that if the skin 
 be punctured* by the finest needle, some of them will be 
 broken by it. 
 
 Nerves of the Skin. — 7. All the veins, and arteries, and 
 capillaries, are so <)overed w ith a net-work of nerves, that no 
 part of the skin can be punctured without piercing a nerve, 
 and causing pain. But, although the skin is the organ of 
 touch, and every where capable of exciting feeling, yet the 
 nerves, by which we feel, do not come quite to the surface. 
 They are all covered by the outer layer, or cuticle^ which we 
 have described. 
 
 8. When the cuticle is taken ofi", the true skin is found to 
 be covered with little erect cones, called pa-pil'-loe^ which, 
 however, can scarcely be seen by the naked eye. Each one 
 of these pa-piV-lce penetrates nearly through the cuticle ; and 
 each one, although so small that we can scarcely see it, con- 
 tains a loop of blood-vessels and a twig of a nerve ; and these 
 
 Fig. 16. Fig. 16 shows some of the pa-pU'-lat from the palm 
 
 of the hand, greatly magnified. They are ahout the 
 one hundredth part of an inch in height ; hut it would 
 talce 250 of them, placed side by side, to make an inch in 
 diameter. • 
 
 The pa-p'il'-lce are numerous wherever the. sense of 
 touch is very acute — that is, wherever they are most 
 L \y~ ■.'-%r'>'V^ -v/si< ' noeded, as at the ends of the iingcr.s, and the tip of the 
 y^>y^f 'V^^^'I^SvKS ^ tongue. They arc numerous in the tip of the snout of 
 
 "'•■ ^^^'^''"^ the mole, at the end of the elephant's trunk, and at the 
 
 root of the whiskers, or feelers^ of the cat. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 61 
 
 nerves enable us to feel any thing that we touch. These 
 little pa-pil'-lce, filled with nerves, are Uke sentinels every 
 where on duty, and they instantly send news to the brain 
 when a part has been injured. In the tender and delicate 
 parts of the system, which require the most care and protec- 
 tion, like the eye and the lungs, they are the most numerous. 
 If a particle of dust lodges on the eyeball, hoAV quickly do 
 the nerves in the pa-pU'-lce send notice to the brain, that it 
 may be removed ! (See Fig. 16.) 
 
 Lymphatics. — 9. In addition to the capillary blood-vessels 
 and the nerves, the skin contains a system of tubular^ vessels 
 called lym-phat' -ics^ or absorbents, which are so small that 
 they can not be seen by the naked eye. The lymphatics open 
 outwardly on the under surface of the cuticle or scarf-skin, 
 while inwardly they open into the veins. Is it possible that 
 these little vessels are of any use ? Yes ; and it is very cer- 
 tain that they have not been made in vain. 
 
 10. There is one thing, at least, which they are able to do. 
 The mouths, or outward openings of the absorbents, are so 
 exposed that substances placed upon the skin are taken up 
 by them, carried along their little tubes, and emptied into the 
 veins, whence they are carried to that gifeat working engine, 
 the heart, and then sent all over the system. It is very evi- 
 dent that if the substances thus absorbed by the lymphatics 
 are good and useful to the system, they may benefit the whole 
 body ; but, if they are bad, they may do it a great amount 
 of injury. 
 
 11. If the arm should be dipped in poison, what, prob- 
 ably, would be the result ? The lymphatics would doubtless 
 absorb the poison, and empty it into the vems, and the veins 
 would carry it to the heart, and the heart would carry it to 
 every part of the body, to every muscle, and bone, and sin- 
 ew, and nerve, poisoning all ; and death might be the result. 
 Such cases have often happened. 
 
 12. The writer of this knew a person who, having washed 
 a number of sheep in a decoction^ of tobacco to kill the ver- 
 min on them, was so poisoned by the juice of the tobacco 
 that was taken up by the lymphatics of the hands and arms, 
 and carried into the blood, that he was made sick, and con- 
 
WILLSON'S FOTJKTH EEADER. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 fined to his bed for three months. In another case, several 
 children in a family were actually killed by putting on their 
 hands and arms a poisonous ointment by mistake. It is by 
 the lymphatics that the poison from the bite of a mad dog, 
 or a serpent, is carried into the system. 
 
 13. Physicians sometimes make use of the lymphatics to a 
 very good purpose. In the process of vaccination, "^ by which 
 multitudes of lives are saved annually, a small particle of 
 matter, placed under the outer skin, and being soon absorb- 
 ed, affects the whole system, and protects it from the ravages 
 of that terrible disease, the small-pox. Sometimes, when the 
 stomach rejects a medicine, physicians give it by binding a 
 quantity on the arm, after first removing the outer skin by a 
 blister. It is also stated that persons have been fed through 
 the skin, and kept alive for a long time by the absorption of 
 nutritious substances.* 
 
 Oil-tubes. — 14. We have also said that the skin is full of 
 oil-tubes. These draw oil from the blood, and spread it over 
 the outer skin to keep the latter moist. In some parts of the 
 body they are very abundant. Their little openings may be 
 seen along the edges of the eyelids. The oil which they 
 pour out there keeps the tears and moisture of the eyes with- 
 in the lids, and also prevents that adhesion^ of the lids which 
 occurs upon slight inflammation. These oil-tubes are also 
 abundant on the head, where they supply the hair with a po- 
 matum^ of Nature's own preparing. 
 
 1 MEcn'-AN-ifM, machine work ; tho parts 
 of a machine. 
 
 2 €om'-pli-€a-ted, intricate; composed of 
 many parts united. 
 
 3 €C'-Ti-ei.B, the outer or scarf skin. 
 ♦ Pun€'-tCrkd, pierced. 
 
 5 TO'-Btj-LAB, having the form of a tube. 
 
 6 De-c5g'-tion, the liquor in which any 
 thing has been boiled or steeped. 
 
 ■J Vac-cin-a'-tion, the act of inoculating, or 
 applying the vaccine matter to the skin, 
 
 8 Ad-he'-»ion, sticking together. 
 
 9 Po-ma'-tcm, a perfumed ointment. 
 
 • " A person who has abstained from water will, after he has immersed his body in a 
 bath, not only find his weight increased, but the sensation of thirst abated." — Deapbb. 
 
1st DiV. OF 
 
 HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 
 63 
 
 LESSON XYII. 
 GROWTH AND DECAY— LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 1. The most curious part of the skin is the numerous and 
 minute Perspiration-tubes which it contains. These tubes 
 open on the cuticle, and the openings are called pores of the 
 skin. They descend into the true skin, where they form a 
 coil, as seen in the drawing below. Small as are these tubes, 
 they are lined on their inner surface with branches of the mi- 
 nute capillary blood-vessels, which we have described, and 
 which are filled with the impure venous blood that is on its 
 way back to the heart and lungs. 
 
 2. But what can be the object of all this complicated ar- 
 rangement ? Why are these little perspiration-tubes, as they 
 are called, scattered thick all over the body — so thick, indeed, 
 that thirty -five hundred of their little mouths have been count- 
 ed on one square inch of the hand ? What office have they 
 to perform that is not performed by the capillaries, or the 
 nerves, or the lymphatics, or the oil-tubes ? Does there seem 
 to be any necessity for them ? Let us see. 
 
 Fig. 17 is a representa- 
 tion of one of the perspira- 
 tion-tubes, or su-dor-ip'-a- 
 rous glands, from the palm 
 of the hand. The space 
 from d to b represents a 
 greatly magnified view of 
 the thickness of the skin. 
 The upper portion is the 
 cuticle, the dark portion 
 the colored layer, and the 
 lower portion the true skin. 
 The coil at the bottom, cf, 
 a, is imbedded in the sur- 
 rounding fat, c, c. The 
 tube opens on the surface 
 of the skin, in a slight de- 
 pression of the cuticle, at d. 
 
 Fig. 18 is a greatly mag- 
 nified view of the surface 
 of the skin of the palm of 
 the hand. The dark lines 
 are the furrows ; the light- 
 er portions are the ridges, 
 in which are seen the dark 
 circular openings of the 
 perspiration - tubes. Be- 
 neath these ridges are also 
 the points of the pa-piV- 
 Ice, which we have de- 
 Bcribed. 
 
 Fig. 18. 
 
6i WILLSOn's FOUETH EEADER. Part I. 
 
 3. We have seen that the arterial blood-vessels cany nour- 
 ishanent from the heart to all parts of the system, and that, 
 after the blood has performed this part of its duty, it gath- 
 ers np, in the minute capillaries, the waste and worn-out par- 
 ticles of the body, for the purpose of throwing them away. 
 Most of the refuse particles, which consist of carbon, unit- 
 ing in the capillaries with the oxygen which the blood re- 
 ceived on its passage through the lungs, and forming, by this 
 union, carbonic acid gas, are carried to the lungs, and there 
 separated from the blood, and breathed out into the air 
 through the mouth and nostrils, in the form of carbonic acid 
 gas and vapor. 
 
 4. But the perspiration-tubes also are all the time busy in 
 performing the same kind of labor as the lungs, in purifying 
 the blood. As these tubes, opening into the air, are lined 
 with the capillary blood-vessels, the air which they contain 
 is brought in close contact with the blood, just as the air is 
 brought in close contact with the blood in the lungs; and 
 waste and worn-out particles of the body, in the form of wa- 
 ter, soda, potash, iron, oil, salts, and acids, and carbonic acid 
 gas, are poured out into the perspiration-tubes, and by them 
 carried to the surface of the body, and thrown out through 
 the pores of the skin. 
 
 5. These numerous tubes are therefore constantly perform- 
 ing the process which we Cjill pers2nration. When we siceat 
 freely they are very active, and perform a vast amount of la- 
 bor. Each one of these tubes is about a quarter of an inch in 
 length, including its coils; seventy-three feet of this tubing in 
 one square inch of the skin, or twenty-eight miles of it spread 
 over the body of a common sized man ! 
 
 6. A wonderful apparatus,^ indeed ! but not more wonder- 
 ful than the amount and importance of the labor which it per- 
 forms; for it is calculated that these little tubes carry off 
 daily, through the skin of a full-grown active man, not less 
 than two or three pounds of waste matter! These little 
 workers are all the time engaged in this labor ; and the blood 
 from the arteries is just as busy in supplying the vacant places 
 with new material ! Thus physiologists tell me that my body 
 — this house which I live in — is constantly being pulled down 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY A1^T> HEALTH. 
 
 65 
 
 and undergoing repairs, and that there is not a particle of it 
 which is the same now that it was ten years ago ! 
 
 7. Thus we are dying every hour, nay, every instant ; and 
 the only difference between this death and that which occurs 
 at the end of life (so far as regards the body) is, that in this 
 gr^ual death the place of every dead particle is instantly 
 supplied by a living one, while in the other case all the parts 
 of the body perish together, and are not reproduced. In 
 youth the building up process goes on more actively than 
 the pulling down process ; in middle life the two powers are 
 equal ; but in old age the pulling down process gains the as- 
 cendency,2 and the house we live in gradually falls to decay. 
 
 8. How strange it seems that ten years ago you had one 
 body, and that now you have another ! You can, indeed, see, 
 hear, and taste as you could before ; but the eye with which 
 you see is not the same as the one you had ten years ago : it 
 is a new eye ; and you hear with a different ear, and taste 
 with another tongue. Indeed, the eye of to-day is not the 
 same as that of yesterday ; for a part of the eye of yesterday 
 has passed away, while the deficiency thus produced has been 
 supplied by a part of yesterday's dinner ! But the mmd — 
 the thinking power or principle of yesterday and of ten years 
 ago — that is w^ithin you still. Through all the changes and 
 the mamj deaths of the body, the mind— the soul — still lives. 
 
 9. " The purple stream that through my vessels glides, 
 
 Dull and unconscious flows like common tides : 
 The pipes through which the circling juices stray, 
 Are not that thinking I, no more than they : 
 This frame compacted, ^ with transcendent* skill, 
 Of moving joints obedient to my will, 
 Nursed from the glebe, ^ like yonder tree 
 Waxes and wastes ;^ I call it mine\ not me' : 
 New matter still the mouldering'' mass sustains, 
 The mansion changed, the tenant still remains ; 
 And from the fleeting stream, repaired by food, 
 Distinct as is the swimmer from the flood." 
 
 Arbijthnot. 
 
 1 Ap-pa-ra'-ttts, a complete set of instru- 
 ments for performing any o]5eration. 
 
 2 As-oend'-en-cy, controlling influence ; su- 
 periority. 
 
 3 €om-pa«t'-ed, constructed; made dense 
 and firm. 
 
 * Trans-cknd'-ent, very excellent. 
 
 5 Glebe, soil ; land. 
 
 6 "Waxes and Wastes," grows and de* 
 cays. 
 
 ' MOuLD'-EE-rNG, decaying. 
 
Paet I. 
 
 LESSOK XYIII. 
 ABUSES OF THE SKIN. 
 
 1. But what if those busy workers, the perspiration-ti4)es 
 of which we have spoken, should stop laboring for only one 
 day^ ? What if they should.refuse to do the work which has 
 been assigned to them^ ? Would any injury be done' ? Yes, 
 a vast amount of injury. The waste particles of matter, 
 when they are not permitted to escape through the pores of 
 the skin, clog up the system, and irritate and poison it, so as 
 to produce inflammation or fever. Only think of two or three 
 pounds of waste and poisonous matter, that ought to be thrown 
 away, collecting in the body in so short a time, merely be- 
 cause these little tubes are unable to do their work ! If the 
 difiiculty should continue several days, and no remedy be 
 found, not only disease, but death itself would be the result. 
 
 2. These perspiration-tubes are sometimes closed when a 
 person takes a severe cold ; for the cold, after deadening their 
 action, contracts them, and closes the little pores which open 
 on the skin. And now see how nature tries to remedy the 
 evil. As the waste matter can not escape through these 
 openings, it remains in the veins, but it clogs the current of 
 the blood, and makes it a dark and filthy stream. This stream, 
 with all its impurities, soon finds its way to the heart, and 
 the heart sends it to the lungs to be cleansed. 
 
 3. But now the lungs have more work to do than usual, 
 and, after toiling awhile with all their might to remove the 
 impurities of the blood, they become weary ; they themselves 
 become clogged with the waste matter w^ich they have sepa- 
 rated from the blood ; they make a vain eflbrt, by coughing, 
 to remove it, and then a fever sets in. There is now a fever 
 all over the skin, and a fever in the lungs also, and all because 
 the httle pores of the skin stopped work for a while. The 
 lungs did all they could to remove the evil, but the addition- 
 al labor imposed upon them soon made them sick also. 
 
 4. We can scarcely imagine the amount of suflering caused 
 by the closing up of these little pores — these millions of little 
 
1st DiV. OP . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 67 
 
 breathi7ig holes that are scattered all over the body. Clos- 
 iog them is like closing the mouth and nostrils, and shutting 
 out the air we breathe. It is vastly important, then, that we 
 should know what dangers we are liable to from this source, 
 and how we may avoid them. 
 
 5. A healthy action of the skin will be found to depend 
 upon proper attention to clothing, cleanliness, exercise, light, 
 and air. The importance oipure air is seen in the fact that 
 the functions^ of the skin in purifying the blood are similar to 
 those of the lungs. Light is as essential to an animal as to a 
 plant. Plants that grow in the shade are never so strong 
 and vigorous, nor have they so dark and brilliant colors, as 
 those that grow in the sunshine ; and a child that grows up 
 in a dark cellar, or any dark room, will always have a pale 
 and unhealthy countenance. 
 
 6. Although the skin requires a suitable degree of warmth, 
 of which each person must be the judge in his own case, yet 
 that kind of clothing should be used which is best adapted to 
 protect the body from the effects of sudden changes of tem- 
 perature.2 For this purpose woolen and cotton garments, 
 fittmg loosely, are to be preferred to linen, as the latter ab- 
 sorbs and retains moisture, and thereby rapidly conducts the 
 heat from the body. 
 
 Y. Any clothing of close texture^ that excludes air from the 
 body, and thereby prevents the perspiration from passing off 
 freely, is injurious ; for if the poisonous matter be left in con- 
 tact Avith the skin, it will be likely to be absorbed into the 
 system by the lymphatics. Cover the body with varnish, so 
 as to close the pores of the skin, and a feeling of suffocation 
 will immediately be felt, a fever will set in, and the individual 
 will soon die. India-rubber clothing that excludes the air 
 will always produce injurious effects. The advantages of fre- 
 quent ablutions* of the whole body, and of frequent changes 
 of clothing, arise from the importance not only of keeping the 
 pores of the skin open and in healthy action, but also of pre- 
 venting the absorption of the poisonous matter which has 
 once been excluded by them. 
 
 8. But exercise in pure air is no Jess essential to the health 
 of the skin than to other portions of the body. The capil- 
 
68 WILLSON's FOUETH READEB. Part I. 
 
 laries of the skin depend for their vigorous action upon bodi- 
 ly exercise ; the warmth of the skin, and the resistance which 
 it offers to sudden changes of temperature, also depend upon 
 that rapid waste and repair of the system, of which exercise 
 is the immediate cause. And, finally, as a summary^ of all 
 that may be said upon the subject of bodily health, its funda- 
 mental^ rules may be embraced in three words — Temperance, 
 Cleanliness, and Exercise. 
 
 1 FuN€'-TiONs, offices ; duties ; employ- * Ab-lu'-tions, washings, 
 
 ments. 
 2 T£m'-pee-a-tlee (tem'-per-a-tyiire)^ state 
 
 of the air with regard to heat or cold, 
 s Text-Cee (Jteksf -yur) ^ the arrangement or 
 
 disposition of ihe threads woven together. 
 
 Sum'-ma-ry, a brief or abridged statement 
 of a fuller account. 
 6 Ffn-da-ment'-ai,, most important ; serv- 
 ing for the foundation. 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 
 THE YEARS OF MAN'S LIFE. 
 
 1. The first seve7i years of life — man's break of day — 
 Gleams of short sense, a dawn of thought display ; 
 When fourteen springs have bloomed his downy cheek, 
 His soft and bashful meanings learn to speak. 
 
 2. From twenty-one proud manhood takes its date, 
 Yet is not strength complete till twenty-eight ; 
 Thence to his five-and-thirtieth, life's gay fire 
 Sparkles and burns intense in fierce desire. 
 
 3. Kt forty -two his eyes grave wisdom wear, 
 And the dark future dims him o'er with care ; 
 y^xXh forty-nine behold his toils increase. 
 And busy hopes and fears disturb his peace. 
 
 4. A% fifty-six cool reason reigns entire; 
 
 Then life bums steady, and with temperate fire ; 
 But sixty-three unbends the body's strength, 
 Ere the unwearied mind has run her length ; 
 And when, at seventy^ age looks her last, 
 Tir'd she stops short, and wishes all were past. 
 
1st Div. OF . . . HtIMA:Kr PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 69 
 
 lesso:n^ XX. 
 
 HEALTH.— A LETTER TO MOTHERS. 
 
 MRS. SIGOURNET. 
 
 1. Mothers', is there any thing we can do to acquire for 
 our daughters a good constitution'? Is there truth in the 
 sentiment sometimes repeated, that our sex is becoming more 
 and more effeminate' ?^ Are we as capable of enduring hard- 
 ship as our grandmothers were' ? Are we as well versed in 
 the details of housekeeping', as able to bear them without 
 fatigue', as our mothers were' ? Have our daughters as much 
 stamina^ of constitution', as much aptitude^ for domestic du- 
 ties as we ourselves possess'? These questions are not in- 
 teresting to us simply as individuals. They affect the wel- 
 fare of the community. For the ability or inability of wom- 
 an to discharge what the Almighty has committed to her, 
 touches the equilibrium'^ of society, and the hidden springs of 
 existence. 
 
 2. Outlines of the mysterious mechanism of our clay-temple 
 we ought certainly to study, that we need not, through igno- 
 rance, interfere with those laws on which its organization* de- 
 pends. Rendered precious by being the shrine^ of an undy- 
 ing spirit, our ministrations'' for its welfare assume an almost 
 fearful importance. Appointed, as the mother is, to guard 
 the harmony of its architecture, to study the arts on which 
 its symmetry depends, she is forced to perceive how much 
 the mind is affected by the circumstances of its lodgment, 
 and is incited to cherish the mortal for the sake of the im- 
 mortal. 
 
 3. Does she attach value to the gems of intellect' ? Let 
 her see that the casket which contains them be not lightly 
 endangered or carelessly broken\ Does she pray for the 
 welfare of the soul' ? Let her seek the good of its compan- 
 ion, who walks with it to the gate of the grave, and rushes 
 again to its embrace on the morning of the resurrection\ 
 
 4. Fashion seems long enough to have attacked health in 
 its strong-holds. She can not even prove that she has ren- 
 
70 WILLSOn's fourth reader. Part I. 
 
 dered the form more graceful, as some equivalent for her rav- 
 ages. In ancient Greece, to which our painters and sculptors 
 still look for the purest models, was not the form left untutor- 
 ed' ?^ the volume of the lungs allowed free play' ? the heart 
 permitted, without manacles, to do the great work which the 
 Creator assigned it' ? 
 
 5. Let us educate a race who shall have room to breathe. 
 Let us promise, even in their cradle, that their hearts shall 
 not be pinioned as in a vice, nor their spines bent like a bow, 
 nor their ribs forced into the liver. Doubtless the husbands 
 and fathers of the next generation w^ill give us thanks. 
 
 6. Yet, if we would engage in so formidable a work, we 
 must not wait until morbid habits have gathered strength. 
 Our labor must be among the elements of character. We 
 must teach in the nursery that " the body is the temple of the 
 Holy Ghost." We must leave no place in the minds of our 
 little ones for the lunatic^ sentiment, that the mind's health- 
 ful action, and the integrity^^ of the organs on which it oper- 
 ates, are secondary to the vanities of external decoration. If 
 they have received from their Creator a sound mind and a 
 sound body, convince them that they are accountable for 
 both. If they deliberately permit injury to either, how s*hall 
 they answer for it before their Judge ? 
 
 7. And how shall the mother ansicer it, in whose hand the 
 soul of her child was laid, as a waxen tablet, if she suffer Fash- 
 ion to cover it with fantastic^^ images, and Folly to puff out 
 her feverish breath, melting the lines that Wisdom penciled 
 there, till what Heaven Avould fain have polished for itself, 
 loses the fair impression, and becomes like common earth ? 
 
 1 Ef-fem'-in-ate, weak; tender; delicate; 
 
 nnhealthy. 
 a Stam'-i-na, strength ; solidity. 
 3 ArT'-i-TLDE, fitness ; suitableness. 
 * E-Qui-T.Tn'-Bi-uM, a just balancing; due 
 
 regulation. 
 6 Ob-gan-i-za'-tion, proper arrangement of 
 
 all its parts. 
 6 ShrTne, abode ; temple ; case or box in 
 
 which any thing sacred is kept. 
 
 7 Min-is-tra'-tionji, our services or efforts 
 as subordinate agents. 
 
 8 Un-tu'-tob-kp, to grow naturally; un- 
 taught. 
 
 9 Ltj'-NA-Ti€, crazy; insane. 
 
 10 In-teg'-ki-ty, soundness ; healthful ac- 
 tion. 
 
 11 Fan-tas'-tic, foolishly odd; uncouth; un- 
 natural. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 71 
 
 LESSON XXI. 
 EEST AND SLEEP. 
 
 HODGKIN. 
 
 1. We have noticed the effect of exercise upon the mus- 
 cular system ; and we have seen that it is essential to the 
 growth and healthy action of the body. We have seen that 
 a period of rest is necessary for a fatigued muscle to recover 
 itself; and we have also found that if the rest be too long 
 continued, the muscle will be enfeebled thereby. 
 
 2. But rest has to be considered not merely with reference 
 to its power of restoring the energies^ of the muscular sys- 
 tem ; it has an important influence on digestion, and also on 
 the strength and activity of the mind. Moreover, the prop- 
 er and economical employment of that most invaluable pos- 
 session, ti7ne^ depends very much upon the due limitation^ 
 and arrangement of our hours of repose. 
 
 3. There are, properly speaking, but two degrees of re- 
 pose. The one is that in which all bodily exercise is wholly, 
 or to a great degree, suspended ; while the mind still retains 
 its consciousness,^ but is not employed on any subject calcu- 
 lated to fatigue or disturb it. The other, well known by the 
 name of sleep, is that in which not only bodily exercise is 
 suspended, but the operations of the mind also are stopped. 
 Even dreams are an imperfection in sleep, and show that 
 mental repose is not complete. 
 
 4. Although rest and sleep — the two degrees of repose to 
 which we have alluded — give relief to the exhausted system, 
 they are far from being precisely similar in their effects, nor 
 can one be indifferently substituted for the other. Every one 
 must be aware that when the body and mind are exhausted 
 by long-continued wakefulness and exertion, a short period 
 of sleep has a much greater restorative* effect than complete 
 tranquillity of body and mind without it. Who has not felt 
 the force of the poet's expression, 
 
 "Nature's sweet restorer — balmy sleep." 
 
 5. On the other hand, there are times when rest is neces- 
 
72 WILLSON'S FOUETH READEE. Pakt I. 
 
 sary, but when sleep is undesirable. The first part of the 
 process of digestion does not go on so well during sleep as 
 when the body is in a state of wakeful repose ; and the mind, 
 provided it has not been exhausted by long-continued appli- 
 cation, is better fitted for some occupations after wakeful re- 
 laxation^ than after sleep. 
 
 6. What portion of time, and what part of the day should 
 be devoted to sleep, are subjects of considerable importance ; 
 yet it will not answer to lay down a definite rule for all per- 
 sons. Some individuals are so very active in their habits and 
 dispositions, that a comj)aratively small portion of sleep is 
 not only all which they require, but all which they can take ; * 
 while others can give way to it at any time. 
 
 7. Both of these extremes are undesirable; but they may, 
 happily, be very much corrected by careful attention to the 
 formation of habit. Those who possess extreme activity of 
 mind or body, and greatly curtail the rest required by both, 
 can not fail seriously to injure their health. If they do not 
 bring on some disease under which their exhausted frames 
 sink after a short struggle, they become almost inevitably the 
 victims of preanature old age, decrepitude,^ and death. 
 
 8. On the other hand, those who give way to slothfulness,"' 
 and devote an inordinate^ time to rest and sleep, have their 
 energies destroyed ; their bodies become flabby, bloated, and 
 easily fatigued ; and their minds, even in their most wakeful 
 moments, are torpid, indisposed for continued attention to 
 any subject, and unfit for close application. Such persons 
 may be said to waste life in a threefold manner. First, all 
 the time consumed in rest and sleep, beyond what the body 
 and mind require, is lost ; a second portion is lost in the di- 
 minished value of their waking hours ; and, thirdly, the term 
 of their life is likely to be shortened by the injury which 
 their health sustains. 
 
 9. There is considerable difierence in the amount of sleep 
 required at difierent ages. Children, who have little power 
 and much activity, are the soonest fatigued, and require the 
 most rest. In old age there is generally the smallest necessi- 
 ty for sleep ; yet exceptions to this are seen in the decrepi- 
 tude of extreme old age, and in cases in which, in conse- 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 73 
 
 quence of disease, there is great tendency to sleep. In the 
 prime of life, when the system is capable of making the great- 
 est exertions, a medium portion of rest is required to restore 
 the body, after exhaustion by fatigue ; but even at this period 
 of Hfe, the differences depending on constitution and habit 
 are very considerable. 
 
 lu. From six to seven hours may be regarded as the aver- 
 age amount of time which those engaged in the ordinary 
 concerns of life, and reasonably exercising both body and 
 mind, may devote to rest in bed. Some persons have been 
 able to do with from four to five hours ; but in most of these 
 cases the mind was kept in a state of excitement by a suc- 
 cession of momentous^ or intensely interesting subjects; 
 hence instances of this kind are met with among severe stu- 
 dents, military commanders, and persons engaged in pohtical 
 affairs. Health is generally injured and life shortened by a 
 continuance of this habit. There are very few cases, except- 
 ing among persons with impaired health, in which the limit 
 of six or seven hours need be exceeded. 
 
 11. The following distribution of time has been prescribed 
 by some superior individuals who were well acquainted with 
 its value. Lord Chief Justice Coke, of England, laid down 
 a rule for himself in the following couplet : 
 
 " Six hours in sleep ; in law's grave study six ; 
 Four spend in prayer ; the rest on Nature fix." 
 
 This rule was somewhat modified by that excellent man and 
 accomplished scholar, Sir William Jones : 
 
 "Six hours to law ; to soothing slumber seven ; 
 Ten to the world allot — and all to Heaven." 
 
 ' 1>;n'-eb-(Jies, internal strength and activ- 
 ity. 
 
 2 Lim-it-a'-ti ON, restriction ; the act of lim- 
 iting. 
 
 3 €6n'-scious-nes8, knowledge of what 
 passes in one's own mind. 
 
 * Ke-stor'-a-tIve, power to renew strength 
 and vigor. 
 
 5 Re-lax-.\'-tion, a loosening or slackening 
 of the energies. 
 
 6 De-€ekp'-it-Cde, that broken and infirm 
 state of the body produced by old age. 
 
 ■^ Slotii'-ful-ness, the habit of idleness; 
 inactivity. 
 
 8 In-6r-din-ate, excessive; immoderate. 
 
 9 ]\Io-mknt'-ou8, highly important. 
 
 D 
 
T4 willson's foukth reader. Part I. 
 
 LESSON XXII. 
 
 ' EARLY RISING. 
 
 1. Whatever maybe the quantity of sleep required, early 
 rising is essential to health, and promotes longevity.^ Almost 
 all men who have distinguished themselves in science, litera- 
 ture, and the arts, have been early risers. The industrious, 
 the active-minded, the enthusiasts^ in pursuit of knowledge 
 or gain, are up betimes at their respective occupations, while 
 the sluggard wastes the most beautiful period of his life in 
 pernicious slumber. 
 
 2. Homer, Virgil, and Horace are all represented as early 
 risers : the same was the case with Paley, Priestley, and Buf 
 fon ; the last of whom ordered his servant to awaken him 
 every morning, and compel him to get up by force if he 
 evinced any reluctance; for which service he was rewarded 
 with a crown each day, which recompense he forfeited if he 
 did not oblige his master to get out of bed before the clock 
 struck six. 
 
 3. Bishops Jewel and Burnet rose every morning at four 
 o'clock. Sir Thomas More did the same thing. Napoleon 
 was an early riser ; so were Frederick the Great, Charles the 
 Twelfth, and Washington. Sir Walter Scott, during the 
 greater part of his life, rose by five o'clock ; and his literary 
 work was accomplished chiefly before breakfast. Franklin 
 and nearly all the great men of the American Revolution 
 were early risers ; so were Daniel Webster and John Quincy 
 Adams. That early rising tends to prolong life appears to 
 be clearly proved. One of the most eminent judges of En- 
 gland — Lord Mansfield — was at the pains of collecting some 
 curious evidence on this subject. When he presided in his 
 judicial capacity over the court, he .questioned every old per- 
 son who appeared at the bar respecting his habits ; and all 
 agreed on one point — that of being early risers. — Anonymous. 
 
 4. ''Falsely luxurious,^ will not man awake, 
 
 And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
 The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, 
 
1st DiV. OF . . . HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY AND HEALTH. 
 
 15 
 
 To meditation due and sacred song? — 
 
 Wildered* and tossing through distempered dreams, 
 
 Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
 
 Longer than nature craves, when every Muse 
 
 And every blooming pleasure wait withmit, 
 
 To bless the wildly-devious^ morning walk?" Thomson. 
 
 5 " Rise with the lark and with the lark to bed. 
 
 Give to repose the solemn hour she claims ; 
 And from the forehead of the morning steal 
 The sweet occasion. 
 
 6. " O ! there is a charm 
 That morning has, that gives the brow of age 
 A smack of youth, and makes the lip of youth 
 Breathe perfumes exquisite. Expect it not, 
 Yd who till noon upon a down-bed lie, 
 Indulging feverish sleep ; or, wakeful, dream 
 Of happiness no mortal heart has felt. 
 
 But in the regions of romance'. 
 
 7. "Ye fair, 
 Like you it must be wooed, or never won ; 
 And, being lost, it is in vain ye ask 
 
 For milk of roses and Olympian dew. 
 
 Cosmetic^ art no tincture can afford 
 
 The faded features to restore : no chain. 
 
 Be it of gold, and strong as adamant. 
 
 Can fetter beauty to the fair one's will." Hurdis. 
 
 LoN-QEv'-i-Tr, long life. 
 EN-Tnu'-siA8TS, persons of ardent zeal. 
 Lux-C'-Ri-ous, Indulging to excess in the 
 gratification of any appetite. 
 
 * Wil'-dbk-ei>, puzzled ; losing one's way. 
 
 5 De'-vi-O08, rambling; roving. 
 
 6 Co*-MET'-ie, promoting beauty ; a vrash to 
 improve beauty. 
 
 lesso:n^ XXIII. 
 
 THE OLD COTTAGE CLOCK. 
 
 CHARLES SWADf. 
 
 O, THE old, old clock, of the household stock V 
 
 Was the brightest thing and neatest^ ; 
 The hands', though old', had a touch^ of gold\ 
 
 And its chime^ rang still the sweetest\ 
 '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\^ 
 
16 willson's fourth EEADEE. Pakt I. 
 
 " 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 a merry chime. 
 
 The wintry hours beguiling^ f 
 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 blew coldly^ : 
 " Tick, tick," it said — " quick, out of bed ; 
 
 For five I've given warning' ; 
 You'll never have health, you'll never get wealth, 
 
 Unless you're up' soon in the morning." 
 
 ^ '■'■ HoiTSEnoLD 8T00K," household goods or 
 
 furniture. 
 ' Touch, appearance (shining like gold). 
 « Chtme, the sound made by striking. 
 
 * Mon'-i-toe, one who gives warning or ad- 
 vice. 
 
 5 Fal'-teb-ed, failed ; hesitated. 
 
 6 Be-guIl'-ing, causing to pass pleasantly. 
 
 LESSON XXIV. 
 
 HEALTH PROVERBS. 
 
 A HAPPi heart makes a blooming visage. 
 A good life keeps off wrinkles. 
 
 A penny-worth of mirth is worth a pound of sorrow. 
 A merry heart doeth good like a medicine. — Solomon. 
 If we subdue not our passions, they will subdue us. 
 Passion is a fever that leaves us weaker than it finds us. 
 Where reason rules, appetite obeys. 
 He that wants health wants every thing. 
 Sickness is felt, but health not at all. 
 Diseases are the interest paid for pleasure. 
 The follies of youth are food for repentance in old age. 
 Eat little at dinner, and less at supper. 
 After dinner sit a while, after supper walk a mile. 
 He that riseth early may walk, but he that riscth late must 
 trot all day. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OBNITHOLOGY. 
 
 11 
 
 PAET II. 
 SECOND DIVISION OF ZOOLOGY; 
 
 CONTINUED FROM THE THIRD READER, AND HERE EMBRACING 
 
 ORNITHOLOGY, 
 
 OR THE NATURAL HISTORY OF BHIDS. 
 
 LESSON I. 
 
 BIRDS. 
 
 1. Birds are prominently distinguished from the mamraa- 
 lia^ by their general form and feathery covering, and by pro- 
 ducing their young from eggs. In form and structure^ they 
 are wisely adapted to the element^ in which they move. 
 
 2. The head of the bird is pointed, so as easily to cleave 
 the air ; the body expands gently, and has wings which serve 
 as movable weights to balance it, and as oars to propel* it 
 forward ; and it diminishes by a spreading tail that helps to 
 
WILLSON S FOUKTH READER. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 keep it buoyant,^ and, at the same time, serves as a rudder 
 to direct its course. 
 
 3. The great bones of the limbs, and many of those of the 
 body, are hollow receptacles^ of air, communicating with the 
 lungs. In various parts of the body are also bladder-like 
 cavities' which can be swollen out with warm air, so as to 
 give the bird additional size, and enable it to float in its na- 
 tive element with greater ease. The quills and feathers, by 
 their peculiar form and structure, unite the greatest possible 
 degrees of lightness and strength. 
 
 4. The various classes of birds are also formed with special 
 reference to the various modes in which they are to gain 
 their subsistence. Thus birds of prey, like the carnivorous^ 
 mammalia, are distinguished by their size, strength, and re- 
 markable length of sight. The other classes of land birds, 
 and also the two divisions of water birds, are all equally w^ell 
 adapted to the various modes of life marked out for them by 
 the great Creator. 
 
 5. This principle of adaptation — of means designed for 
 some particular end — is seen especially in the feet, or claws, 
 and beaks of birds. In how marked a manner do the pow- 
 erful talons^ of the eagles, hawks, and owls, differ from the 
 tiny feet of the perching swallow and the w^ren ; and the 
 long, stilt-like legs of the ostrich, designed for running, from 
 the webbed feet of the swimming ducks, geese, and pelicans. 
 
 ieut of Birds, bee Note. 
 
 6. The beaks of birds differ perhaps still more widely. In 
 birds of prey the beak is like a carving or dissecting knife ; 
 
 TV.ET OF BiRPB— 1. Claw of Golden Fagle. 2. Eagle Owl. 3. roiiltry bird. 4. Rock 
 Ptarmigan. 5. Perching bird. 6. Climbing bird, Woodpecker. 7. Grebe. 8. Plover. 
 C. Phalarope. 10. Duck. 11. Tbla. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 19 
 
 in the woodpeckers it is an effective chisel ; in the snipe, the 
 curlew, and the humming-birds, it is a long and slender probe ; 
 in the parrots it is a climbing hook or a fruit-knife ; in the 
 swallows it is a kind of fly-trap ; in the swans, geese, and 
 ducks, it is a flattened strainer ; in the storks and herons it 
 is like a fish-spear ; in the seed-eating birds it forms a pair of 
 seed-crackers for removing the kernel from the husk whicli 
 covers it. 
 
 Heads of Birds, bee iNote. 
 
 7. And how peculiar are those instincts of birds which 
 teach them to build their nests, each after the fashion pur- 
 sued from time immemorial by its own particular species! 
 While the untamed eagle builds its nest of a mass of sticks 
 rudely thrown together on some inaccessible cliff, while the 
 condor of the Andes has no nest but the bare and lofty rock, 
 and the ostrich of the torrid zone often " leaves her eggs in 
 the earth, and warmeth them in the sand," other birds build 
 nests of most elaborate^^ pattern and exquisite" workmanship. 
 
 8. "Some to the holly-hedge 
 Nestling repair, and to the thicket some ; 
 Some to the rude protection of the thorn 
 Commit their feeble offspring ; the cleft tree 
 Offers its kind concealment to a few, 
 
 Their food its insects, and its moss their nests. 
 
 Others apart, far in the grassy dale, 
 
 Or rough 'ning waste, their humble texture weave." — Thomson. 
 
 Heads OP Birds. —1. Falcon. 2. Eagle. 3. Owl. 4. Parrot. 5. Puffin. 6. Cur- 
 lew. 7. Crossbill. 8. Merganser Duck. 9. Woodpecker. 10. Plover. 11. Duck. 12. 
 Crane. 13. Humming-bird. 14 Petrel. 15. Hombill. 16. Whip-poor-will. 
 
80 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 Nests of Birds. See Note. 
 
 9. "It wins my admiration 
 To view the structure of that little work — 
 
 A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without ; 
 No tool had he that wrought ; no knife to cut ; 
 No nail to fix ; no bodkin to insert ; 
 No glue to join ; his little beak was all ; 
 And yet how neatly finish'd ! What nice hand, 
 With every implement and means of art. 
 And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot, 
 Could make me such another?" — Hurdis. 
 
 10. The migrations'^ ^f birds furnish us another subject 
 which shows forth the abundant wisdom that pervades the 
 whole economy'^ of nature. Most of our summer birds leave 
 us at the approach of winter to seek food and shelter hund- 
 reds and sometimes thousands of miles away, in sunnier 
 climes. Who taught them thus to know the changing sea- 
 sons ? What hand guides and gives strength of wing to sus- 
 tain them in their homeward flight? How natural that their 
 departure from us in the closing season of the year should 
 remind us to prepare for our departure ere the winter of 
 death closes over us. 
 
 11. "Ye gentle birds, that perch aloof, 
 
 And smooth your pinions^* on my roof, 
 
 Nests op Btsds. — 1. Cliff Swallows. 3. Sociable Weaver TMrds, having entrances be- 
 low, and numerous nests within, 3. Bar-tailed Humming Bird ; nest of downy mate- 
 rials, often woven together with spiders' weba. 4. Republican Grosbeaks, or Weaver 
 Birds ; the general cover, built by the united labors of the birds, somotimef" shelters 
 hundreds of nests. 6. Chestnut-crowned Titmouse. 6. Nest of Tailor Bird, formed by 
 stitching leaves together. 7. Pendulous Titmouse. S.Wren. 9. Baltimore Oriole. 10. 
 Wood Swallow. 11. Weaver Finches ; suspended over water, with entrance from benoatlu 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 81 
 
 Preparing for departure hence, 
 Now Winter's angry threats commence ; 
 Like you, my soul would smooth her plixme 
 For longer flights beyond the tomb. 
 
 12. " May God, by whom is seen and heard 
 
 Departing men and wandering bird, 
 
 In mercy mark us for his own, 
 
 And guide us to the land unknown!" — W. Haylet. 
 
 13. The dress or plumage of birds is not only admirable 
 for its fitness to the ends for which it was designed — for its 
 softness, smoothness, compactness, and lightness — but also 
 for the most brilliant coloring which is lavished upon so many 
 of the " winged denizens^^ of the air." This is more especial- 
 ly true of birds of the torrid zone, whose glowing colors, ri- 
 valing the hues of the rainbow, mock the efforts of the artist 
 to depict^^ them in their gorgeous richness and beauty. 
 
 14. But it is the singing of birds — the melody of the 
 " songsters of the grove" — and the grace of their motions, 
 not less than their beautiful plumage, which have thrown 
 such a charm around these " creatures of freedom and light," 
 as ever to have made them favorite subjects of poetry and 
 song. The study of the forms, history^ and habits of birds, 
 abundantly illustrated as all these subjects have been by the 
 genius of the poet and the painter, can not fail to be both in- 
 teresting and instructive to every lover of Nature ; and its 
 happy tendency must be to lead the mind " from Nature up 
 to Nature's God." 
 
 15. The first and most plainly-marked division of birds is 
 into two great classes. Land Birds and Water Birds. Of the 
 former there are five great divisions or orders, which are des- 
 ignated as, 1st, Birds of Prey ; 2d, Perchers^ or sparrow-like 
 birds ; 3d, Climbers^ such as the parrots, woodpeckers, and 
 cuckoos ; 4th, Scratchers^ or poultry birds ; and, 5th, Run- 
 ners^ which embrace the ostriches. Of the Water Birds there 
 are two great divisions or orders, designated by the names 
 Waders and Swimmers. 
 
 16. These divisions into orders take their rise chiefly from 
 marked differences in the feet or claws of birds, some of which 
 bave already been noticed. Each of these orders is farther di- 
 
 D2 
 
82 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 vided into families — the external marks on which these divi- 
 sions are founded being chiefly differences in the forms of the 
 bills. Thus some families are known as the cleft-bills, some as 
 toothed-bills, some as cone-bills, and others as thin-bills. The 
 whole number of different species of birds described has been 
 estimated at about six thousand. 
 
 Mam-ma'-li-a, animals that suckle their 
 young. See Third Reader. 
 Stru€t'-Cee, arrangement of parts. 
 kl'-e-ment, natural dwelling-place, as the 
 air, 
 
 Peo-pel', move. 
 Buoy'-ant, light; floating. 
 Re-ckp'-ta-cle, a place in which some- 
 thing is contained. 
 €av'-i-tie», hollow places. 
 
 8 Cab-niv'-o-botts, flesh-eating. 
 
 9 Tal'-on, the Avhole foot of a hird of prey. 
 
 10 E-lab'-o-eate, studied with great care.' 
 
 11 £x'-QCi*-iTE, very nice ; exact. 
 
 12 MT-gea'-tion, removal from one climate 
 or country to another. 
 
 13 E-€6n'-o-my, arrangement ; plan. 
 1* PTn'-ions, feathers ; wings. 
 
 15 Den'-i-zen*;, inhabitants. 
 
 16 DE-PieT', to paint. 
 
 LESSON II. 
 
 BIRDS. 
 . Birds — birds! ye are beautiful 
 ^ ' things, 
 
 ^ With your earth-treading feet and 
 
 ^ your cloud-cleaving wings ; ^ 
 
 Where shall man wander, and where shall he dwell. 
 Beautiful birds, that ye come not as well ? 
 
 2. Ye have nests on the mountain all rugged and stark,^ 
 Ye have nests in the forest all tangled and dark : 
 Ye build and ye brood^ 'neath the cottagers' eaves, 
 And ye sleep on the sod 'mid the bonnie^ green leaves ; 
 Ye hide in the heather, ye lurk in the brake, 
 Ye dive in the sweet-flags that shadow the lake : 
 
*2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 83 
 
 Ye skim where the stream parts the orchard-decked land, 
 Ye dance where the foam sweeps the desolate strand. 
 
 3. Beautiful birds ! ye come thickly around 
 
 When the bud's on the branch and the snow's on the 
 
 ground ; 
 Ye come when the richest of roses flush out, 
 And ye come when the yellow leaf eddies* about. 
 
 4. Beautiful birds ! how the school-boy remembers 
 
 The warblers that chorused^ his holiday tune ; 
 The robin that chirped in the frosty December, 
 
 The blackbird that whistled through flower-crowned 
 June : 
 The school-boy remembers his holiday ramble, 
 
 When he pulled every blossom of palm he could see, 
 When his finger was raised as he stopped in the bramble 
 With " Hark ! there's the cuckoo ; how near he must 
 be!" 
 
 5. Beautiful creatures of freedom and light! 
 
 Oh ! where is the eye that groweth not bright 
 As it watches you trimming your soft glossy coats, 
 Swelling your bosoms, and ruffling your throats ? 
 Oh ! I would not ask, as the old ditties® sing. 
 To be " happy as sand-boy," or " happy as king ;" 
 For the joy is more blissful that bids me declare, 
 " I'm as happy as all the wild birds of the air." 
 
 G. I will tell them to find me a grave when I die. 
 Where no marble will shut out the glorious sky ; 
 Let them give me a tomb where the daisy will bloom. 
 Where the moon will shine down, and the leveret"^ pass by ; 
 But be sure there's a tree stretching out far and wide. 
 Where the linnet, the thrush, and the woodlark may hide ; 
 For the truest and purest of requiems^ heard 
 Is the eloquent hymn of the beautiful bird. 
 
 Eliza Cook. 
 
 ' Staek, lone ; still ; barren. 
 
 ' Bkoot), sit on and cover their eggs in their 
 
 nests. 
 ' B6n'-nxe (or bon'-mi), gay; cheerful. 
 * kb'-b'b*., moves circularly when falling to, 
 
 the ground. 
 
 5 Cno'-RUSEP, sung in chorus or concert. 
 
 6 DVt'-ties, little poems to bo sung. 
 
 7 Lkv'-ee-et, a hare in the first year of her 
 age. 
 
 8 Rk'-qui-em, a hymn pung for the dead. 
 
84 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH READER. 
 
 Fart II. 
 
 I. BIRDS OF PREY. 
 
 LESSON III. 
 THE FALCON TRIBE. 
 
 Scale of Feet. 
 
 1. Golden Eagle, Aquila chrrjsceta. 2. Peregrine Falcon, Falco peregrimis. 3. Bald 
 I'agle, Halicetiis Icucocephahis. 4. Common Kite, Falco milvus. 5. Swallow-tailed 
 Hawk, Falco furcatits. 6. Mexican Harpy Eagle, Thrascetus hariyyia. 7. Ger-falcon, 
 Falco (pjrfalco. 8. Sparrow Hawk, Falco nisus. 9. South American Crested Hawk, 
 Sj^izcetus cristatelhcs. 10. Goah&wii, Falco palumbarius. 11. Oaprey^ Falco halicstiis. 
 
 1 . The first order of birds consists of the birds of prey, 
 which embrace three families, known as, 1st, the Falcons, 
 which include the eagles, kites, buzzards, and hawks ; 2d, the 
 Vultures ; and, 3d, the Owls. All of the falcon tribe, ex- 
 cept two or three of the larger eagles, are generally known 
 by the common name of hawks. The birds of prey and the 
 carnivorous quadrupeds are very much alike in general char- 
 acter, both being large and strong, of dispositions fierce and 
 daring, and the whole frame adapted for swift pursuit or 
 powerful action. 
 
 2. In treating of the falcon tribe the first place is given to 
 the Eagle, on account of its great size and strength, the 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 85 
 
 grandeur of its aspect, and the dignity of its movements. The 
 golden eagle, which is about three feet in length, having a 
 plumage of a deep and rich yellowish-brown, glossed on the 
 back and wings with purple, is a truly magnificent bird, and 
 has ever been associated with majesty or nobility. By the 
 ancient Greeks and Romans he was called the " bird of Jove ;" 
 and by all rude and savage nations he is regarded as the ap- 
 propriate emblem^ of courage and independence. 
 
 3. The golden eagle is found throughout the whole circuit 
 of the entire globe. The eyry^ of this noble bird is generally 
 the face of some stupendous inland cliff, with its nest on a 
 projecting shelf, or on some dwarf tree that grows from the 
 rock, generally in a situation perfectly inaccessible, and often 
 out of the reach of shot either from below or from the top of 
 the precipice. 
 
 4. The eagle, when in search of food, surveys the ground 
 by soaring above it, often to an immense height ; and when 
 its rapid eye detects its prey, it rushes downward with the 
 rapidity of an arrow, and seldom fails to seize the object at 
 which it aims. In this manner hares, lambs, grouse, and 
 sometimes the young of deer and foxes, are borne away to 
 feed its young. 
 
 5. During our revolutionary war a golden eagle had placed 
 her nest below one of the cliffs on the Hudson River. A sol- 
 dier was let down by his companions, suspended by a rope 
 round his body. When he reached the nest he suddenly 
 found himself furiously assailed by the eagle. In self-defense 
 he drew the only weapon about him, his knife, and made re- 
 peated thrusts at the bird, when accidentally he cut the rope 
 nearly off. It began unraveling, when those above hastily 
 drew him up, and relieved him from his perilous situation at 
 the moment when he expected to be precipitated to the bot- 
 tom ; but so powerful was the effect of the fear he had ex- 
 perienced, that within three days his head became quite gray. 
 
 6. The white-headed, or bald eagle, as it is called, equaling 
 in size the golden eagle, is the most common of the eagle 
 tribe in this country, and the one adopted by us as our na- 
 tional emblem. It is not bald-headed, as its name indicates ; 
 but the appearance of the white feathers of the head, con- 
 
S6 WILLSON'S FOTJBTH EEADEE. Pakt II. 
 
 trasting strongly with the dark color of the rest of the plum- 
 age, has given it the false name by which it is now generally 
 known. 
 
 7. The flight of the bald eagle, when we consider the ar- 
 dor and energy of his character, is noble and interesting. 
 Sometimes the human eye can just discern him, like a minute 
 speck, slowly moving in a large circle along the face of the 
 heavens, as if reconnoitring^ the earth at that immense dis- 
 tance. Sometimes he glides along in a direct horizontal line, 
 at a vast height, with expanded and unmoving wings, till he 
 gradually disappears in the distant blue ether.* 
 
 8. At the great cataract of Niagara bald eagles were for- 
 merly seen in considerable numbers, and at all seasons of the 
 year, attracted thither by the carcasses of animals that had 
 been drawn into the current and precipitated over the falls. 
 Their presence, as they would penetrate, seemingly in reck- 
 less daring, into the very midst of the spray that rose from 
 the falling waters, gave additional sublimity to the scene. 
 
 ). "High o'er the watery uproar, silent seen, 
 Sailing sedate, in majesty serene, 
 Now midst the pillared spray sublimely lost, 
 And now, emerging, down the rapids tossed, 
 Glides the bald eagle, gazing, calm and slow, 
 O'er all the horrors of the scene below ; 
 Intent alone to sate* himself with blood. 
 From the torn victims of the raging flood." 
 
 Alex. Wilson. 
 
 10. The fish -hawk, or osprey, another bird of the eagle 
 family, is found in considerable numbers in the northern 
 United States from March to September, frequenting bays of 
 the ocean, and inland ponds and streams which abound in fish. 
 It is nearly two feet in length ; its bill is of a bluish black, 
 the head mostly white, and the wings and back of a deep 
 brown. It is a welcome bird to the fishermen on our coasts, 
 who regard its arrival in spring as the harbinger^ of plenty. 
 
 11. A great length of wing and a forked tail are the prin- 
 cipal characters which distinguish the Kites from the rest of 
 the birds of prey. The most noted of this family are the 
 common kite of Europe, and the swallow-tnilcd hawk, which 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 87 
 
 is found abundantly in the southern United States. The Buz- 
 zards are distinguished by their expanded wings and squared 
 tails. The best known of the buzzards in this country is the 
 red-tailed buzzard, more commonly called the hen-hawk. 
 
 12. " The hawk, in mid-air high, 
 On his broad pinions sailing round and round, 
 With not a flutter, or but now and then, 
 
 As if his trembling balance to regain, 
 Utters a single scream, but faintly heard. 
 And all again is still." — C. Wilcox. 
 
 13. Of the Falcons proi:)er, the peregrine falcon of Europe, 
 known also as the " blue hawk" of Scotland, and as the 
 " great-footed hawk" and " duck-hawk" of America, is the 
 most noted. In the age of falconry it was greatly valued in 
 Europe for sporting purposes. It is the terror of wild-fowl 
 on our coasts, and the wonder of sportsmen, uncommonly 
 bold and powerful, darting on its prey with astonishing ve- 
 locity, and striking it to the earth or water before securing it. 
 
 14. When water-fowl perceive the approach of the pere- 
 grine falcon, a universal alarm pervades their ranks. If they 
 are flying, they all speed to the water, and there remain till 
 the enemy has passed them, diving the moment he comes 
 near them. He is said often to follow the footsteps of the 
 gunner, knowing that the ducks will be aroused on the wing, 
 which will aiford him a chance of almost certain success in 
 taking his prey. The falcon is not only a universal plunder- 
 er, but he is bold and fearless also. He has been justly called 
 " the Arab of the air." 
 
 15. " The falcon is a noble bird ; 
 
 And when his heart of hearts is stirr'd, 
 
 He'll seek the eagle, though he run 
 
 Into his chamber near the sun. 
 
 Never was there brute or bird. 
 
 Whom the Avoods or mountains heard, 
 
 That could force a fear or care 
 
 From him — the Arab of the air.'" — Proctor. 
 
 16. At one time the sport of falconry — the practice of tak- 
 ing wild-fowl by means of hawks trained to the purpose — 
 was common in England. After having been long in disuse, 
 
88 
 
 WILLSON S FOURTH READER. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 it has latterly been revived ; and it is but a short time since 
 the English papers teemed"^ with accounts of a hawking party 
 in England, in which dukes and duchesses joined in the sport. 
 
 -'^.■ 
 
 Hawkiug. 
 
 17. That the peregrine falcon is not incapable of personal 
 attachment to its keeper,' the followhig anecdote will show. 
 A favorite falcon had escaped from an English officer on his 
 passage from England to Canada. Some time after, learning 
 that an American captain at Halifax had in his possession a 
 fine hawk which had made its appearance on board of his 
 ship during his late passage from Liverpool, the officer set. 
 out for Halifax, with the hope of recovering his bird. 
 
 18. As the captain demanded proof of ownership, it was 
 agreed that if the hawk, when brought into a room full of 
 gentlemen, should recognize the officer, and manifest un- 
 doubted signs of attachment, he should be given up. Ko 
 sooner was the hawk brought in by the captain than he dart- 
 ed from him, and, perching on the shoulder of the officer, 
 rubbed his head against his cheek, played with the buttons 
 of his coat, and by every means in his power evinced his de- 
 light and affection. The proof was entirely satisfactory, and 
 the falcon was restored to its risrhtful owner. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. OENITHOLOGY. 
 
 89 
 
 19. Of the Hawks proper, the goshawk, or peregrine hawk, 
 is the largest and most powerful, being from twenty inches 
 to two feet in length. This bird is now of rare occmTence 
 in the United States, but is found widely extended in range 
 throughout Europe and America. His flight is exceedingly 
 rapid. At times he passes like a meteor through the woods, 
 where he secures squirrels and hares with ease. At other 
 times he will give chase to a flock of wild pigeons, forcing 
 himself into the very centre of the flock, scattering them in 
 confusion, and never failing to secure a bird in his talons. 
 
 20. Audubon describes one which he saw turninp' from a 
 flock of pigeons to give chase to a large flock of crow black- 
 birds then crossing the Ohio River : " The hawk approached 
 them with the swiftness of an arrow, when the blackbirds 
 rushed together so closely that the flock looked like a dusky 
 ball passing through the air. On reaching the mass," he, with 
 the greatest ease, seized first one, then another, and another, 
 giving each a squeeze with his talons, and suffering it to drop 
 upon the water. In this manner he procured four or five be- 
 fore the poor birds reached the Avoods, into which they in- 
 stantly j)lunged, when he gave up the chase, swept back over 
 the water in graceful curves, and picked up the fruits of his 
 industry, carrying each bird singly to the shore." 
 
 21. But the most common of American hawks is the «par- 
 o'ow - hawk, which is found in every district from Maine to 
 Texas, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific. It is only about 
 half the size of the goshawk. Beautifully erect, it may often 
 be seen on the highest fence-stake, the broken top of a tree, 
 the summit of a grain-stack, or the corner of the barn, patient- 
 ly and silently waiting until it spy a mole, a field-mouse, a 
 cricket, or a grasshopper, on which to pounce. The blue 
 jays have a particular antipathy^ to the sparrow-hawk, often 
 following it and mocking its notes ; in return for which the 
 insulted bird now and then contents himself with feeding on 
 the plumpest of his persecutors. 
 
 1 km'-blem, representation. 
 
 2 ky'-ry (4-'j7/), the place where birds 
 prey construct their nests. 
 
 3 Re-con-noi'-tring, examining. 
 * E'-TUEK, the sky. 
 
 5 Pate, to satisfy ; to ghit. 
 
 6 Har'-15In-gee, sign : thftt which precedes 
 and gives notice of something. 
 
 ^ "• Teemed with," v/ere full of. 
 8 An-tTp'-a-tuy, hatred. 
 
90 WILLSON's fourth reader. Part II. 
 
 LESSOIS^ IV. 
 
 Eagle pursuing the Swan. 
 
 HABITS OF THE EAGLE. 
 
 1. To give you, kind reader, some idea of the nature of the 
 noble bird whose figure is emblazoned^ on our national stand- 
 ard, permit us to place you on the Mississippi, on which you 
 may float gently along, while approaching winter brings mil- 
 lions of water-fowl on whistling wings, from the countries of 
 the north, to seek a milder climate in which to sojourn for a 
 season. 
 
 2. The eagle is seen perched, in an erect attitude, on the 
 summit of the tallest tree by the margin of the broad stream. 
 His glistening but stern eye looks over the vast expanse.^ 
 He listens attentively to every sound that comes to his quick 
 ear from afar, glancing now and then on the earth beneath, 
 lest even the light tread of the fawn may pass unheard. His 
 mate is perched on the opposite side of the stream, and, 
 should all be tranquil and silent, warns him by a cry to con- 
 tinue patient. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY* ORNITHOLOGY. 91 
 
 3. At this well known call the male partly opens his broad 
 wings, inclines his body a little downward, and answers to 
 Iier voice in tones not unlike the laugh of a maniac. The 
 next moment he resumes his erect attitude, and again all 
 around is silent. Ducks of many species are seen passing 
 with great rapidity, and following the course of the current ; 
 but the eagle heeds them not : they are at that time beneath 
 liis attention. 
 
 4. The next moment, however, the wild trumpet-like sound 
 of a yet distant but approaching swan is heard. A shriek 
 from the female eagle comes across the stream, for she is fully 
 as alert^ as her mate. The latter suddenly shakes the whole 
 of his body, and with a few touches of his bill arranges his 
 plumage. The snow-Avhite swan is now in sight ; her long 
 neck is stretched forward ; her eye is on the watch, vigilant 
 as that of her enemy ; her large wings seem with difficulty 
 to support the weight of her body, although they flap inces- 
 santly. She approaches, however. The eagle has marked 
 her for his prey. As the swan is passing the dreaded pair, 
 the male bird, with an awful scream, starts from his perch in 
 full preparation for the chase. 
 
 5. Now is the moment to witness a display of the eagle's 
 powers. He glides through the air like a falling star, and, 
 like a flash of lightning, comes upon the timorous quarry,* 
 Avhich now, in agony and despair, seeks, by various manoeu- 
 vres, to elude the grasp of his cruel talons. It mounts, doub- 
 les, and willingly would plunge into the stream, were it not 
 prevented by the eagle, which, knowing that the swan would 
 thus escape him, forces it to remain in the air by attempting 
 to strike it with his talons from beneath. 
 
 6. The hope of escape is soon given up by the swan. It 
 has already become much weakened, and its strength fails at 
 the sight of the courage and swiftness of its antagonist. Its 
 last gasp is about to escape, when the ferocious eagle strikes 
 with his talons the under side of its wing, and, with unre- 
 sisted power, forces the bird to fall in a slanting direction 
 upon the land. There his mate joins him, when the royal 
 pair turn the breast of the luckless swan upward, and gorge 
 themselves with gore. 
 
92 willson's fourth EEADER. Part II. 
 
 1. The eagle has great partiality for fish, and, in persuing 
 them, as he is not a fisher himself, he displays, in a very sin- 
 gular manner, the genius and energy of his character. Ele- 
 vated on the high dead hmb of some gigantic tree that com- 
 mands a view of the neighboring shore and ocean, he seems 
 calmly to contemplate the motions of the various feathered 
 tribes that pursue their busy avocations^ below — the snow- 
 white gulls, slowly winnowing the air ; trains of ducks stream- 
 ing over the surface ; silent and watchful cranes, intent^ and 
 wading ; clamorous crows, and all the winged multitudes that 
 subsist by the bounty of this vast liquid magazine of Nature. 
 
 8. High over all these hovers one whose action instantly 
 arrests his whole attention. By his wide curvature of wing 
 and sudden suspension in air, the eagle knows him to be the 
 osprey, or fish-hawk, settling over some devoted victim of 
 the deep. His eye kindles at the sight, and, balancing him- 
 self, with half-opened wings, he watches the result. Down, 
 rapid as an arrow from heaven, descends the distant object 
 of his attention, the roar of its wings reaching the ear as it 
 disappears in the deep, making the surges foam Ground. 
 
 9. At this moment the eager looks of the eagle are all ar- 
 dor ; and, leveling his neck for flight, he sees the fish-hawk 
 emerge, struggling with his prey, and mounting in the air 
 with screams of exultation. These are the signal for our 
 hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, and 
 soon gains on the fish-hawk ; each exerts his utmost to mount 
 above the other, displaying in these manoeuvres the most ele- 
 gant and sublime aeriaF evolutions.^ 
 
 10. The unencumbered eagle rapidly advances, and is just 
 on the point of reaching his opponent, when, with a sudden 
 scream, probably of despair and execration, the latter drops 
 his fish ; the eagle, poising himself for a moment, as if to take 
 a more certain aim, descends like a whirlwind, snatches it in 
 his grasp ere it reaches the water, and bears his ill-gotten 
 booty silently away to the woods. Audubon and Wilson. 
 
 Em-blX'-zonep, adorned with figures; set s Av-o-€A'-TiOTtt bns^ncs^^etaplo^^m^rit*. 
 out pompously. ^ In-tknt', ardcmt; oagpr. 
 
 2 Ex-panse', extent of R])ace. 
 
 3 A-I.KBT', watchful ; vigilant. 
 * Quj.B'-BY, the game. 
 
 5 Av-o-€a' 
 
 6 In-tknt', ardent; otxgo't 
 
 7 A-ii'-Ki-Ai , pertaining to the air ; lofty. 
 
 8 Ev-o-Lu'-TiONf, movements. 
 
2d Div. OP ZOOLOGY. — OKNITIIOLOGY. 
 
 93 
 
 LESSON" V. 
 
 A 
 
 ^^ 
 
 THE OSPREY, OR SEA EAGLE. 
 
 1 . Soon as the sun, great ruler of the year, 
 
 Bends to our northern cHmes his bright career, 
 And from the caves of ocean calls from sleep 
 The finny shoals^ and myriads^ of the deej); 
 When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride, 
 And day and night the equal hours divide ; 
 True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore, 
 The sailing osprey high is seen to soar, 
 With broad, unmoving wing. Now, circling slow. 
 He marks^ each straggler"^ in the deep below ; 
 Sweeps down like lightning ! plunges with a roar ! 
 And bears his struggling victim to the shore. 
 
 Alex. Wilson. 
 
 2. Most awful is thy deep and heavy boom,^ 
 Gray watcher of the waters ! Thou art king 
 
94 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 Of the blue lake ; and all the winged kind 
 
 Do fear the echo of thine angry cry. 
 
 How bright thy savage eye ! Thou lookest down, 
 
 And seest the shining fishes as they glide ; 
 
 And, poising^ thy gray wing, thy glossy beak 
 
 Swift as an arrow strikes its roving prey. 
 
 Ofttimes I see thee, through the curling mist, 
 
 Dart, like a spectre' of the night, and hear 
 
 Thy strange, bewitching call, like the wild scream 
 
 Of one whose life is perishing in the sea. 
 
 M'Lellan. 
 
 I ShOal, a crowd ; a throng. 
 3 M\R'-r-AD, an immense number. 
 3 Mabks, seea ; notices. 
 * Strao'-glee, a wanderer. 
 
 1 3 Boom, a hollow roar as of waves. 
 
 6 Pois'-iNG, balancing. 
 
 M Spec'-tre, a ghost; the appearance of 
 
 I dead person. 
 
 LESSON VI. 
 
 >^ 
 
 THE AMERICAN EAGLE. 
 
 Bird of the heavens ! whose matchless eye 
 Alone can front the blaze of day, 
 
 And, wandering through the radiant^ sky, 
 Ne'er from the sunlight turns away ; 
 
2d DlV. OF ZOOLOGY. OKNITHOLOGY. 96 
 
 Whose ample wing was made to rise 
 
 Majestic o'er the loftiest peak, 
 On whose chill tops the winter skies, 
 
 Around thy nest, in tempests speak — 
 
 2. What ranger of the winds can dare. 
 Proud mountain king ! with thee compare ? 
 Or lift his gaudier^ plumes on high 
 Before thy native majesty, 
 
 When thou hast taken thy seat alone, 
 Upon thy cloud-encircled throne ? 
 
 3. Bird of the sun ! to thee — to thee 
 
 The earliest tints of dawn are known, 
 And 'tis thy proud delight to see 
 
 The monarch mount his gorgeous throne ; 
 Throwing the crimson drapery by. 
 
 That half impedes his glorious way ; 
 And mounting up the radiant sky. 
 
 E'en what he is — ^the king of day ! 
 
 4. Bird of Columbia ! well art thou 
 
 An emblem of our native land ; 
 With unblenched^ front and noble brow, 
 
 Among the nations doomed to stand, 
 Proud, like her mighty mountain woods ; 
 
 Like her own rivers, w^andering free ; 
 And sending forth, from hills and floods, 
 
 The joyous shout of liberty! 
 
 5. Like thee, majestic bird! like thee 
 She stands in unbought majesty. 
 
 With spreading wings, untired and strong, 
 That dares a soaring far and long. 
 That mounts aloft, nor looks below. 
 And will not quail'^ though tempests blow. 
 
 C. "W. Thompson. 
 
 1 Ra'-di-ant, beaming with brightness. |3 Un-bi<enchkd', unstained ; unshrinking. 
 
 2 Gati'-di-ek, more showy. |* Quail, shrink back. 
 
96 
 
 willson's foueth keadek; 
 
 Part II. 
 
 BIRDS OF Fl^EY— Continued. 
 
 LESSON VII. 
 VULTURES AND OWLS. 
 
 a 
 
 Scale of Feet. 
 
 1. Secretary Vulture, Gypogeranus aerpenfarins. 2. Turkey Buzzard, Catharka 
 aura. 3. Carrion Crow, Cathartes atrattis. 4. Prgyptiau Vulture, Neophron percnop- 
 tenifi. 5. Condor, Sarcoramphus gnjphus. 6. Bearded Vulture, Gypcelus barbatus. 
 7. California Vulture, CatharUs Cah'fornianus. 
 
 1. The Vultures are, on the whole, considerably larger 
 than the falcon birds, but they are much less courageous. 
 Most of them, unlike the falcons, feed on putrid flesh ; and 
 they are generally protected by the natives of the countries 
 which they inhabit, on account of their utility^ in disposing 
 of decayed animal remains. 
 
 2. The beak of these birds is long and curved, but not 
 notched ; and the talons, not being required to tear living 
 animals, are comparatively weak ; but in order that the parts 
 of the bird which come in contact with its offensive food may 
 not become soiled or matted, most of the head is naked ; and 
 the legs, at the lowest parts, are covered with scales, and not 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 
 
 9i 
 
 with feathers as in the eagle. The wings are strong and 
 large, and the general plumage uncommonly thick and coarse. 
 
 3. Among the vultures of the western continent may be 
 mentioned the condor of South America, which is five feet in 
 length, and the expanse of its wiugs fourteen ; the California 
 vulture, but little less in size than the condor ; the w^ell known 
 turkey buzzard of our southern states ; and also the black vul- 
 ture, or carrion crow of the south, which is found in the streets 
 of cities, where it is protected, being regarded as a kind of 
 scavenger^iphose labors are subservient^ to the public good. 
 
 4. The Egyptian vulture, sometimes called Pharaoh's chick- 
 en, is abundant in Spain and on the opposite African shores. 
 The secretary vulture, found in Southern Africa, is a very *u , 
 curious-looking bird, which feeds exclusively upon reptiles v,,/ / 
 and serpents. The bearded vulture, or vulture of the Alps, j^- 
 which approaches the character of the falcons in frequently '"""']/^' 
 seizing live animals for its prey, is about four feet in length,. 
 
 and the largest bird of Europe. 
 
 " Among the barren Alpine cliffs the bearded vulture dwells, 
 Who never fattens on the prey which from afar he smells ; 
 But, patient, watching hour on horn-, upon a lofty rock, 
 He singles out some truant lamb, a victim, from the flock." 
 
 Scale of Feet. 
 
 1: Virginia Homed Owl, Bubo Virginianus. 2. Little Screech Owl, Bubo Ado. 3. 
 Great Homed Owl, or Kapjle Owl, Bubo maximus. 4. Great Snowy Owl, Sumia mjctea. 
 5. Hawk Owl, or Ram Owl, Strix Americmia. 
 
 5. The Owls, which also belong to the birds of prey, are a 
 
 E 
 
98 
 
 willson's foueth eeader. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 very numerous family, and some of them are found in all 
 quarters of the globe. They feed on birds, small quadrupeds, 
 and insects, and some species on fish. Those most common 
 in this country are the barred owl, which is about eighteen 
 inches in length ; the little sparrow owl ; the great northern 
 white owl, or snowy owl; the white or barn owl; and the 
 Virginia horned owl. The latter, found in almost every part 
 of the United States, is the one whose mournful Aoo, hoo^ 
 hoo-e is so often heard in the night season. The eagle owl 
 inhabits the great forests of Europe. ^ 
 
 6. The owls are mostly nocturaP in their habits, remaining 
 concealed by daylight, and coming forth at night in pursuit 
 of their prey. Their abodes are usually deep forests, old 
 ruins, and hollow trees ; and this circumstance, connected 
 with the grotesque^ appearance of their shaggy heads and 
 large round eyes, their noiseless flight, the dismal hootings 
 of some, and frightful screechings of others, as heard in the 
 silence and gloom of night, have caused them to be regarded, 
 by the ignorant of all countries, with a kind of superstitious^ 
 dread. The poets have indulged freely in this general prej- 
 udice; and in their descriptions of midnight storms and 
 gloomy scenes of nature, the owl is generally introduced to 
 heighten the horror of the picture. 
 
 7. "In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower, 
 
 The spectral owl doth dwell ; 
 Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour. 
 
 But at dusk he's abroad and well ! 
 Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him — 
 
 All mock him outright, by day ; 
 But at night, when the woods grow still and dim, 
 
 The boldest will shrink away ! 
 
 *^ So, when the night falls, and the dogs do howlj 
 Sing ho ! for the reign of the homed owl! 
 We know not alway 
 Who are kings by day. 
 But the king of the night is the bold brown owlT^ 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 1 C-tTl'-i-ty, usefulnesfl. 
 
 a S*'Av'-EN-uEK, oue who cleans the streets 
 
 of a city. 
 ' S0B-8EBv'-i-ENT, conducive. 
 
 4 \o€-tCk'-naIm pertainiag to the night. 
 
 5 (Jro-tksquk', oddly formed ; uncouth. 
 
 * STT-PER-8Ti"-TiotTB, full of idle fancies in 
 religious niattera. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. OKNITHOLOGY. 
 
 99 
 
 LESSON VIII. 
 
 SONG OF THE OWL. 
 
 1. Tu whit! tu whoo! — in my ancient hall, 
 In my old gray turret^ high, 
 Where the moss is thick on the crumbling wall, 
 A king — a king reign I ! >•■> 
 
 Tu whoo ! 
 I wake the wood with my startling call 
 To the frighted passers-by. 
 
 2. The ivy-vines in the chink that grow, 
 Come clambering up to me ; 
 And the newt,^ the bat, and the toad, I trow,^ 
 A right merry band are we. 
 Tu whoo ! 
 Oh, the coffined monks* in their cells below 
 Have no goodlier company. 
 
100 
 
 WIIiLSON'S FOUETH EEADEK. 
 
 Pakt II. 
 
 3. Let them joy in their brilliant sunlit skies, 
 
 And their sunset hues, who may ; 
 But softer by far than the tints they prize, 
 
 Is the dim of the twihght gray ! 
 Tu whoo ! 
 Oh, a weary thing to an owlet's eyes 
 
 Is the garish^ blaze of day. 
 
 4. When the sweet dew sleeps in the midnight cool. 
 
 Some tall tree top I win ; 
 And the toad leaps up on her throne-shaped stool. 
 
 And our revels loud begin — 
 Tu whoo ! 
 While the bullfrog croaks o'er his stagnant pool, 
 
 Or plunges sportive in. 
 
 5. As the last lone ray from the hamlet^ fades 
 
 In the dark and still profound, 
 The night-bird sings in the cloister''' shades, 
 
 And the glow-worm lights the ground — 
 Tu whoo ! 
 And fairies trip o'er the broad green glades,^ 
 
 To the firefly circling round. 
 
 6. 
 
 Tu whit ! tu whoo ! ^ All the livelong night 
 
 A right gladsome life lead we ; 
 While the starry ones from their azure height 
 
 Look down approvingly. 
 Tu whoo I 
 They may bask^ who will in the noonday light. 
 
 But the midnight dark for me. 
 
 Mrs. Hewitt. 
 
 1 TCe'-ebt, a littlo tower; a spire rising 
 from a building. 
 
 2 Newt, a aniall lizard. 
 
 3 TeOw, think ; believe. 
 
 ♦ Monk, one who retires from the world, 
 and devotes himself to religion. 
 
 5 Gab'-ish (or jrcrfr'-z^A), dazzling; gaudy. 
 
 6 IIam'-let, small village. 
 
 7 €loi8'-teb, a house inhabited by monks or 
 nuns. 
 
 8 Glades, open places in forests. 
 
 9 Bask, to lie in warmth ; be at ease. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 101 
 
 11. PEECHINa OE SINGING BIEDS. 
 
 *' If thou art pained with the world's noisy stir, 
 Or crazed with its mad tumults, and weighed down 
 With any of the ills of human life' ; 
 If thou art sick and weak, or mourn'st the loss 
 Of brethren gone to that far distant land 
 To which we all do pass, gentle and poor, 
 The gayest and the gravest, all alike' ; 
 Then turn into the peaceful woods and hear 
 The thrilling music of the forest birds." — M'Lellan. 
 
 LESSOISr IX. 
 THE TOOTBED-BILIjS (DENTIROSTEES). 
 
 Scale of Inchta. 
 
 1. African Fly-catcher, Musdcapa rufiventer, 2. Mocking-bird, Thirdus polyglottua. 
 S. Kingbird, or Tyrant Fly-catcher, Museimpa ttjrannus. 4. White Plnraed' African 
 Shrike, Lamms pluvmtus. 5. American Shrike, Lanius borealis. 6. Cedar -bird, Am- 
 pelis Americana. 7. Greenlet, or Green Wren, Muscicapa cantatrix. 8. Kobin, Turdus 
 migratorius. 9. Wood-thrush, Turdus melodus. 
 
 1. The second order of birds consists of the Perchers, or 
 sparrow-like birds, sometimes also called Singing Birds^ be- 
 cause it embraces nearly all those which have musical notes. 
 
102 willson's fourth reader. Part ii^ 
 
 These birds are of smaller size than those of the other orders, 
 and they nearly equal the numbers of all the others. 
 
 2. As the name Pekchees indicates, the power of grasping 
 the twigs of trees and of perching^ upon them is a prominent 
 feature in the birds of this order. The habitual residence of 
 most of them is in the woods or thickets ; all have the pow- 
 ers of flight in full perfection ; and the larger part feed upon 
 insects, or the seeds of vegetables, which they procure by the 
 beak alone. 
 
 3. The perching birds may be divided into the following 
 four tribes or subdivisions, founded on the varying form of 
 the beak : the toothed-bills, the cleft-bills, the cone-shaped- 
 bills, and the slender or thin-bills. As some ©f the toothed- 
 biUs seize and feed upon small living animals, they properly 
 come next in order to the birds of prey. 
 
 4. The toothed-bills are so named because they have the 
 upper mandible^ notched on each side near the tip, like the 
 bills of the falcons. The principal birds included in this di- 
 vision are the shrikes, or butcher-birds; the thrushes; the 
 large family of the warblers, or singing forest birds; the chat- 
 terers ; and the fly-catchers. About fifty^pecies of the war- 
 blers alone, among which are included the bluebird, yellow- 
 bird, tailor^ird, the wagtails, and a host of other summer 
 birds, are found on the American continent. 
 
 5. Among the butcher-bii;ds, the great American shrike, 
 which is about ten inches in length, is entitled to no common 
 degree of respect, as his courage and intrepidity are beyond 
 every other bird of his size, the kingbird alone excepted. 
 In defense of his young he attacks the largest hawks or 
 eagles with a resolution truly astonishing, so that all of them 
 respect him, and on all occasions decline the contest. The 
 shrike has a curious habit of catching grasshoppers and small 
 birds, and sticking them on a thorn or sharp stick before eat- 
 ing them. 
 
 6. The thrushes, which are of a great variety of colors, are 
 common in all parts of the world, and many of them are emi- 
 nently birds of song. Tlie wood-thrush of America, which 
 is a sweet but solitary songster ; the mavis, or song-thrush of 
 Europe ; the English blackbird, the American robin, the Amer- 
 
2(1 Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 103 
 
 icaii mocking-bird, and the English nightingale, all belong to 
 this family. 
 
 7- " With the sweet airs of spring the robin comes ; 
 Aad in her simple song there seems to gush 
 A strain of sorrow when she visiteth 
 Her last year's withered nest. But when the gloom 
 Of the deep twilight falls, she takes her perch^ 
 Upon the red-stemmed hazel's slender twig, 
 That overhangs the brook, and suits her song 
 To the slow rivulet's inconstant chime."* — M'Lellan. 
 
 8. The American mocking-bird, which is nine aiid a half 
 inches in length, having the upper parts of the head and body 
 of a dark gray, tinged with brown, and the lower parts 
 brownish- white, is unrivaled for his great variety of song; 
 and by his great powers of imitation he is superior to any 
 bird that possesses its native notes alone. 
 
 9. "He often deceives the sportsman, and sends him in 
 search of birds that perhaps are not within miles of him, but 
 whose notes he exactly imitates ; even birds are frequently 
 imposed upon by this admirable mimic, and are decoyed by 
 the fancied calls of their mates, or they dive with precipita- 
 tion^ into the depths of thickets at the scream of what they 
 suppose to be the sparrow-hawk. 
 
 10. "In confinement he loses little of the power and ener- 
 gy of his song. He whistles for the dog ; Caesar starts up, 
 wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He squeaks out 
 like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about with hanging 
 wings and bristled feathers, clucking to protect her injured 
 brood. He repeats the tune taught him by his master, 
 though of considerable length, fully and faithfully. He runs 
 over the quiverings of the canary ,« and the clear whistlings 
 of the Virginia nightingale, or redbird, with such superior 
 execution and effect that the mortified birds feel their own 
 inferiority, and become altogether silent ; while he seems to 
 triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions." 
 
 11. Among the chatterers, or wax- wings, the cedar wax- 
 wing, or cedar-bird, is the principal one known to us. Of the 
 more numerous family of the fly-catchers, the kingbird, the 
 phebe-bird, the redstart, and the greenlets, which are gener- 
 
104 
 
 WnJiSON'S FOUETH KEADEE. 
 
 Pakt II. 
 
 ally called " fly-catchers," are common in this country ; but 
 the geographic range of the true broad-billed fly-catchers is 
 almost confined to tropical regions, where insects, which con- 
 stitute their principal, if not their only food, are the most 
 abundant. 
 
 1 PKEcn'-iHG, sitting like a bird. 
 
 2 Man'-di-ble, applied to the lower jaw of 
 the mammalia, to both jaw3 of birds, and 
 to the upper pair of jawa in insects. 
 
 3 Peeoh, any thing on which birds light. 
 * Chime, murmur ; musical harmony. 
 
 5 Pee-oip-i-ta'-tion, headlong haste. 
 
 6 €a-na'-ey, a bird from the Canary Islea. 
 
 
 LESSON X. 
 
 
 
 c-^^y v* ^ ^ V 
 
 •!#' 
 
 :% 
 
 '^^, 
 
 
 
 ^^^^^ 
 
 tsm 
 
 
 THE MOCKING-BIRD. 
 
 1. Eaely on a pleasant day 
 In the poet's month of May, 
 Field and forest looked so fair, 
 So refreshing was the air, 
 That, in spite of morning dew, 
 Forth I walked where tangling grew 
 Many a thorn and breezy bush ; 
 When the redbreast and the thrush 
 Gayly raised their early lay. 
 Thankful for returning day. 
 
2d Div. or ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 105 
 
 2. Every thicket, bush, and tree 
 Swelled the grateful harmony : 
 As it mildly swept along, 
 Echo seemed to catch the song ; 
 But the plain was wide and clear 
 Echo never whispered near. 
 From a neighboring mocking-bird 
 Came the answering notes I heard 
 
 S. Soft and low the song began : 
 I scarcely caught it as it ran 
 Through the melancholy trill 
 Of the plaintive whippoorwill. 
 Through the ringdove's gentle wail— 
 Chattering jay and whistling quail, 
 Sparrow's twitter, catbird's cry, 
 Redbird's whistle, robin's sigh : 
 Blackbird, bluebird, swallow, lark. 
 Each his native note might mark. 
 
 4. Oft he tried the lesson o'er. 
 Each time louder than before. 
 Burst at length the finished song ; 
 Loud and clear it poured along ; 
 All the choir in silence heard. 
 Hushed before this wondrous bird. 
 All transported and amazed. 
 Scarcely breathing, long I gazed. 
 
 5. ^NTow it reached the loudest swell ; 
 
 Lower, lower, now it fell, 
 
 Lower, lower, lower still ; 
 
 Scarce it sounded o'er the rill. 
 
 Now the warbler ceased to sing; 
 
 Then he spread his russet wing, 
 
 And I saw him take his flight 
 
 Other regions to delight. 
 
 J. R. Drake. 
 
 E2 
 
106 willson's fourth reader. Pakt II. 
 
 LESSON XL 
 
 THE BLUEBIRD (Sialia Wilsonii). 
 
 1. The bluebird, which is 
 found in great numbers in the 
 Southern States during winter, 
 visits the north in early spring, 
 frequently while the snow is on 
 the ground; an^ so fond is he 
 of his old haunts,^ that even in 
 mid-winter, after a few days of 
 mild weather, he reappears 
 
 among us, enlivening even a day of sunshine by his cheerful 
 
 presence. 
 
 2. His fondness for his mate, and solicitude^ to please her, 
 have often been noticed and admired. Says a curious and 
 correct observer: "He uses the tenderest expressions, sits 
 close by her, and sings to her his most endearing warblings. 
 When seated together, if he espies an insect delicious to her 
 taste, he takes it up, flies with it to her, spreads his wing over 
 her, and puts it into her mouth. If a rival makes his appear- 
 ance, he attacks and pursues the intruder as he shifts^ from 
 place to place, in tones that bespeak* the jealousy of his affec- 
 tion ; conducts him, with many reproofs, beyond the extremi- 
 ties of his territory, and returns to warble out his transports 
 of triumph beside his beloved mate." 
 
 3. The summer song of the bluebird is a soft, agreeable 
 warble, usually accompanied with a gentle quivering of the 
 wings; but when the. cold blasts of autumn threaten the ap- 
 proach of winter, it changes to a single plaintive note, like a 
 sigh at leaving the endeared objects of his northern home. 
 No wonder that the society of the bluebird is courted by the 
 inhabitants of the country, and that the farmers are so willing 
 to provide for it, in some suitable place, a snug little summer- 
 liouse, ready fitted, and rent free. For this he more than suf- 
 ficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his song, and the . 
 multitude of injurious insects which he daily destroys. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 107 
 
 4. " When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, 
 
 Green meadows and brown furrow'd fields reappearing, 
 The fishermen hauling their nets to the shore, 
 
 And cloud-cleaving geese to the north are all steering ; 
 When first the low butterfly flits ©n the wing, 
 
 When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing, 
 O then comes the bluebird, the herald of spring ! 
 
 And hails, with his warblings, the charms of the season. 
 
 5. "He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree, 
 
 The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossoms. 
 The fruit-bearing products, wherever they be. 
 
 And seizes the caitiff's* that lurk in their bosoms ; 
 He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours, 
 
 The worms from their beds where they riot and welter ;^ 
 His song and his services freely are ours. 
 
 And all that he asks is, in summer, a shelter. 
 
 G. "But when the gay scenes of the summer are o'er, 
 
 And autumn slow enters, so silent and sallow, ' 
 And millions of warblers that charm' d us before, 
 
 Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking swallow. 
 The bluebird, forsaken, yet true to his home. 
 
 Still lingers and looks for a milder to-morrow, 
 Till, forced by the rigors of winter to roam, 
 
 He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow. 
 
 7. " While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm. 
 
 The green face of earth, and the pure blue of heaven, 
 Or love's native music, have power to charm. 
 
 Or sympathy's glow to our feelings is given, 
 Still dear to each bosom the bluebird shall be ; 
 
 His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure ; 
 For, through bleakest storms, if a calm he but see, 
 
 He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure." 
 
 Alex. Wilson. 
 
 8. In his motions and general character the bluebird has 
 great resemblance to the robin redbreast of Britain, and had 
 he the brown olive of that bird, instead of his own blue, he 
 could hardly be distinguished from him. Like him he is 
 known to almost every child, and shows as much confidence 
 in man by associating with him in summer, as the other by 
 his familiarity in winter. 
 
 1 Hattnts (like a in/rtr), place of resort. * €ai'-tift, a captive ; a rascal." 
 
 2 So-li'-oi-tCi)E, anxiety. 6 Wkl'-tek, to roll or wallow. 
 
 ' Shifts, moves. 7 Pal'-lSw, having a yellow color, like the 
 
 * Bk-speak', show ; indicate. color of the leaves in autumn. 
 
108 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH BEADEE. 
 
 pakt n. 
 
 PEKCHING BIRDS— Continued, 
 
 LESSON xn. 
 
 THE CLEFT-BILLS {FISSIROSTRES). 
 
 1. Night-hawk, Caprimulgus Americanus. 2. Green Tody, Todus viridis. 3. Bam- 
 flwallow, Hirundo rustica. 4. Kingfisher, Alcedo alcyon. 5. Trogon, Trogon pavoni- 
 tins. 6. African Blue-headed Bee-eater, Meropa ceruleo-cephalus. 7. Koyal Great-creet, 
 Todus regivs. 
 
 1. This division of the perching birds is readily distin- 
 guished from all others by the beak, which is short, but 
 broad, and very deeply cleft,^ so that the opening of the 
 mouth is extremely wide. The principal home of these 
 birds is in tropical countries. Some species are found in the 
 temperate zone during the warm season of the year, but on 
 the approach of winter they depart to more congeniaP climes. 
 They have been divided into the following six families : Night- 
 jars, or Night-hawks, Bee-eaters, Swallows, Todies, Trogons, 
 and Kingfishers. 
 
 2. Among the night-jars are included the common goat- 
 sucker of Europe, our common night-hawk, whippoorwill, 
 and chuck-wills-widow, and also a South American night- 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 109 
 
 hawk, known as the guacharo.^ All these bh'ds are noctur- 
 nal in their habits, like the ow^ls ; their voices are often harsh 
 and strange, and that of the chuck-wills-widow is seldom 
 heard in cloudy weather, and never when it rains. 
 
 3. The male of the common night-hawk is frequently seen 
 toward evening mounting in the air by several quick move- 
 ments of the wings, then a few slower, uttering all the while 
 a sharp, harsh squeak, till, having gained the highest point, 
 he suddenly dives head foremost, and with great rapidity, 
 down sixty or eighty feet, wheeling up again as suddenly, 
 and making at the same time a loud booming* sound, which 
 is probably caused by his suddenly opening his capacious 
 mouth as he passes rapidly through the air.* 
 
 4. " And, in mid air, the sportive night-hawk, seen 
 
 Flying a while at random, uttering oft 
 
 A cheerful cry, attended with a shake 
 
 Of level pinions* dark ; but, when uptum'd 
 
 Against the brightness of the western sky. 
 
 One white plume shining in the midst of each ; 
 
 Then far down diving with a hollow sound." — C. Wilcox. 
 
 5. The whippoorwill, which greatly resembles the night- 
 hawk, is a bird found only in America, and is noted for its 
 peculiar song, which seems very plainly to articulate® the 
 syllables which compose its name. This bird is first heard 
 in our Northern States about the beginning of May, general- 
 ly at dusk, and through the evening. Toward midnight it 
 generally becomes silent, but its notes burst forth again at 
 early dawn, and continue till the beams of the rising sun 
 scatter the darkness that overhung the face of Nature. 
 
 6. " Lone whippoorwill. 
 There is much sweetness in thy fitfuP hymn, 
 Heard in the drowsy watches** of the night. 
 Ofttimes, when all the village lights are out, 
 And the wide air is still, I hear thee chant^ 
 Thy hollow dirge," like some recluse" who takes 
 His lodgings in the wilderness of woods. 
 
 And lifts his anthem^^ when the world is still ; 
 And the dim, solemn night, that brings to man 
 And to the herds deep slumbers, and sweet dews 
 
 * This is the opinion of Wilson, the ornithologist ; but Audubon thinks the sound ia 
 produced by the sndden outspreading of the wings of the bird to sirrest its rapid flight. 
 
110 -vyillson's fourth reader. Part II. 
 
 To the red roses and the herbs, doth find 
 
 No eye, save thine, a watcher in her halls. 
 
 I hear thee oft at midnight, when the thrush 
 
 And the green roving linnet are at rest, 
 
 And the blithe^ ^ twittering swallows have long ceased 
 
 Their noisy note, and folded up their wings." — M'Lellan. 
 
 7. The chuck- wills- widow, which is a near relative of the 
 whippoorwill, although seldom found north of Virginia and 
 Tennessee, is so called from its notes, which seem to articu- 
 late the syllables of its name with wonderful distinctness. 
 The tones of its voice are stronger and more full than those 
 of the whippoorwill, and, like the latter, it keeps up a con- 
 tinual noise during the evening, and, in moonlight, through- 
 out the whole of the night. Neither this bird nor the whip- 
 poorwill makes any nest, but both deposit^* their eggs on 
 the dry leaves in the woods. 
 
 8. The hee-eaters^ which derive their name from their great 
 partiality for bees and wasps, are entirely confined to the 
 Eastern hemisphere. The swallows^ which include the mar- 
 tins, chimney-swallows, barn-swallows, bank-swallows, swifts, 
 and a few other species, are a widely-dispersed and well- 
 known family, resembling the night-jars in the deep clefts of 
 their bills, but differing from them in being active during the 
 day. 
 
 9. Speaking of swallows, Sir Humphrey Davy observes, 
 "The swallow is one of my favorite birds, and a rival of the 
 nightingale ; for he glads my sense of seeing as much as the 
 other does my sense of hearing. He is the joyous prophet 
 of the year — the harbinger of the best season. He lives a 
 life of enjoyment among the loveliest forms of Nature. Win- 
 ter is unknown to him ; and he leaves the green meadows of 
 England in autumn for the myrtle and orange-groves of Italy, 
 and for the palms of Africa." 
 
 10. A French writer, the Duke of Nemours, gives the fol- 
 lowing: account of what fell under his own observation : " I 
 observed," he says, " a swallow which had unhappily, and I 
 can not imagine in what manner, slipped its foot into a knot 
 of pack-thread, the other end of which was attached to a 
 spout of the college building. Its strength was exhausted. 
 
2d DiV. OP ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. Ill 
 
 It hung at the end of the thread, uttering cries, and some- 
 times raising itself, as if making an effort to fly away. 
 
 11. "All the swallows in and around Paris, and perhaps 
 from places more remote, soon assembled, to the number of 
 several thousands. Their flight was like a cloud; all utter- 
 ing a cry of pity and alarm. After some hesitation and a 
 tumultuous council, one of them hit upon a device for deliv- 
 ering their companion, communicated it to the rest, and all 
 at once began to put it into execution. 
 
 12. "They arranged themselves in a long line, flew rapid- 
 ly past the poor prisoner, and, in passing, struck the pack of 
 thread with their bills. These efforts, directed to one point, 
 were continued for half an hour, when the thread was sev- 
 ered and the captive set free. But the flock remained until 
 night, chattering continually in a tone which no longer be- 
 trayed anxiety, and seeming to be congratulating each other, 
 and talking over the story of their achievements."^^ 
 
 13. The todies^ which are a small family of beautiful birds, 
 somewhat resembling the kingfishers, are found chiefly with- 
 in the tropics of both hemispheres. The bright red spot on 
 the throat of the green tody of the West Indies is said to at- 
 tract insects, just as a candle attracts moths. The trogons 
 are also a small family, but one pre-eminent in beauty and 
 brilliancy of coloring, which is usually a metallic golden-green, 
 strongly contrasted with scarlet, black, and brown. 
 
 14. The Mngfishers^ which are generally birds of gay plum- 
 age, are distributed over the world ; but the warmer parts 
 of India, Africa, and South America have the greatest share. 
 This bird delights in murmuring streams and falling wa- 
 ters ; not, however, merely that they may soothe his ear, 
 but for a gratification somewhat more substantial. Amid 
 the roar of the cataract, or over the foam of a torrent, he sits 
 perched upon an overhanging bough, glancing •his piercing 
 eye in every direction below for his scaly prey, which, with 
 a sudden circular plunge, he sweeps from its native element, 
 and swallows in an instant. The kingfisher has a loud and 
 harsh voice, and builds his nest in holes which he digs in the 
 banks of streams. When the mother-bird is disturbed on 
 the nest, she will frequently drop on the water, as if severe- 
 
112 
 
 WILLSON'S F0T7ETH HEADER. 
 
 PartII. 
 
 ]y wounded, and flutter as if unable to rise from the stream, 
 in order to induce the intruder to wade or swim after her. 
 
 9 Chant, to sing. 
 
 10 DiEGE, a song expressing grief, as a fu- 
 neral dirge. 
 
 11 Re-€lCse', a hermit. 
 
 12 An'-them, a hymn. 
 
 13 Blithe, meriy; gay. 
 1* De-po*'-it, leave; place. 
 15 A-cuikve'-ment8, great or heroic actions. 
 
 1 €i.EFT, divided ; parted. 
 
 2 €on-6en'-ial, suitable. 
 
 3 Gua'-cha-bo. 
 
 * Boom'-ing, roaring like waves. 
 
 5 Pin'-ions (pin'-yons)^ wings. 
 
 6 ar-tic'-€'-late, to utter distinctly. 
 ■? KTt'-ful, varied; unsteady. 
 
 ** Watch'-e8, hours ; periods. 
 
 LESSON xni. 
 
 "THE FOWLS OF THE AIR SHALL TEACH THEE." 
 
 1. A SWALLOW, in the spring, 
 Came to our grSnary, and 'neath the eaves 
 Essayed to make a nest, and there did bring 
 
 Wet earth, and straw, and leaves. 
 
 2. Day after day she toUed 
 
 With patient art^ ; but ere her work was crowned', 
 Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoiled, 
 And dashed it to the ground. 
 
 3. She found the ruin wrought ; 
 
 Yet not cast down, forth from her place she flew. 
 And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought. 
 And built her nest anew. 
 
 4. But scarcely had she placed 
 The last soft feather on its ample floor. 
 When wicked hand, or chance, again laid waste 
 
 And wrought the ruin o'er. 
 
 5. But stiU her heart she kept. 
 
 And toiled again ; and last night, hearing calls, 
 I looked, and lo ! three little swallows slept 
 Within the earth-made walls. 
 
 6. What truth is here, O man' ? 
 Hath hope been smitten in its early dawn' ? 
 Have clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan' ? 
 
 Have faith and struggle on. 
 
 R. S. S. Andros. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 113 
 
 LESSON XIV. 
 
 THE SWALLOW PARTY. 
 
 1. *' The welcome guest of settled spring, 
 
 The swallow, too, has come at last ; 
 Just at sunset, when thrushes sing, 
 I saw her dash with rapid wing. 
 
 And hail'd her as she pass'd. 
 
 2. ** Come, summer visitant, attach 
 
 To my reed roof your nest of clay, 
 And let my ear your music catch, 
 Low twittering underneath the thatch 
 
 At the gray dawn of day." — Charlotte Smith. 
 
 3. Two barn swallows came into our wood-shed in the 
 spring-time. Their busy, earnest twitterings led me at once 
 to suspect that they were looking out a building-spot ; but, 
 as a carpenter's bench was under the window, and hammer- 
 
114 WILLSON's FOURTH READER. Part IL 
 
 ing, sawing, and planing were frequently going on, I had lit- 
 tle hope they would choose a location^ under our roof. 
 
 4. To my surprise, however, they soon began to build in 
 the crotch of .1 beam over the open door-way. I was de- 
 lighted, and spent much time in watching them. It was, in 
 fact, a beautiful little drama^ of domestic love ; the mother- 
 bird was so busy and important, and her mate was so atten- 
 tive. He scarcely ever left the side of the nest. There he 
 was, all day long, twittering in tones that were most obvious- 
 ly the outpourings of love. 
 
 5. Sometimes he would bring in a straw or a hair to be in- 
 terwoven in the precious little fabric. One day my attention 
 was arrested by a very unusual twittering, and I saw him cir- 
 cling round with a large downy feather in his bill. He bent 
 over the unfinished nest, and ofiered it to his mate with the 
 most graceful and loving air imaginable ; and when she put 
 up her mouth to take it, he poured forth such a gush of glad- 
 some sound ! It seemed as if pride and affection had swelled 
 his heart till it was almost too big for his little bosom. 
 
 6. During the process of incubation^ he volunteered to 
 perform his share of household duty. Three or four times a 
 day he would, with coaxing twitterings, persuade his patient 
 mate to fly abroad for food; and the moment she left the 
 eggs, he would take her place, and give a loud alarm when- 
 ever cat or dog came about the premises. When the young 
 ones came forth he shared in the mother's toil, and brought 
 at least half the food for his greedy little family. 
 
 7. When the young became old enough to fly, the gravest 
 philosopher would have laughed to watch their manoeuvres. 
 Such chirping and twittering! such diving down from the 
 nest, and flying up again ! such wheeling round in circles, 
 talking to the young ones all the while ! such clinging to the 
 sides of tlie shed with their sharp claws, to show the timid 
 little fledgelings* that there was no need of falling ! 
 
 8. For three days all this was carried on with increasing 
 activity. It was obviously an infant flying-school. But all 
 the talking and twittering were of no avail. The little downy 
 things looked down, and then looked up, and, alarmed at the 
 wide space around them, sank down into the nest again. 
 
2d Dir. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 
 
 115 
 
 9. At length the parents grew impatient, and summoned 
 their neighbors. As I was picking up chips one day, I found 
 my head encircled by a swarm of swallows. They flew up 
 to the nest, and chattered away to the young ones ; they 
 clung to the walls, looking back to tell how the thing was 
 done ; they dived, and wheeled, and balanced, and floated in 
 a manner perfectly beautiful to behold. 
 
 10. The pupils were evidently much excited. They jump- 
 ed up on the edge of the nest, and twittered, and shook their 
 feathers, and waved their wings, and then hopped back again, 
 as if they would have said, " It is pretty sport, but we can 
 not do it." 
 
 11. Three times the neighbors came in and repeated their 
 graceful lessons. The third time two of the young birds gave 
 a sudden plunge downward, and then fluttered, and hopped, 
 till they alighted on a small log. And O, such praises as 
 were warbled by the whole troop ! the air was filled with 
 their joy ! Some flew round, swift as a ray of light ; others 
 perched on the hoe-handle and the teeth of the rake ; multi- 
 tudes clung to the wall ; and two were swinging, in the most 
 graceful style, on a pendent^ hoop. Never, while memory 
 lasts, shall I forget that swallow party. 
 
 12. The whole family continued to be our playmates until 
 the falling leaves gave token of approaching winter. For 
 some time the Uttle ones came home regularly to their nest 
 at night. Their familiarity was wonderful. If I hung my 
 gown on a nail, I found a little swallow perched on the sleeve. 
 If I took a nap in the afternoon, my waking eyes were greet- 
 ed by a swallow on the bedpost: in the summer twilight 
 they flew about the sitting-room in search of flies, and some- 
 times lighted on chairs and tables. But at last they flew 
 away to more genial^ skies, with a whole troop of relations 
 and neighbors. It was painful to me to think that I should 
 never know them from other swallows, and that they would 
 have no recollection of me. 
 
 Mrs. Child. 
 
 1 Lo-€a'-tion, situation ; building-place. 
 
 2 Dra'-ma, representation ; act of a play. 
 
 3 In-ctt-ba'-tion, sitting on egga for the 
 purpose of hatching young. 
 
 * Fledge'-ling, a young bird j ust furnished 
 with feathers. 
 
 5 Penb'-ent, hanging. 
 
 6 6b'-ni-al, mild ; cheerful : pleasant. 
 
116 willson's FOUETH EEADEE. Part n. 
 
 5^ WMle coming from beyond the 
 
 ^ sea, 
 
 When flowers adorn the dewy vale, 
 And blossoms hang upon the tree. 
 
 2. Ye love the spots where ye were reared, 
 
 Where first ye stretched abroad your wings; 
 These places seem to you endeared, 
 Amid your many journeyings. 
 
 3. And there your little nests ye build. 
 
 And nurse with care your tender brood ; 
 And skimming o'er the lake and field. 
 Procure for them their daily food. 
 
 4. Oft have I marked your rapid flight, 
 
 Ye happy birds ! on sunny days. 
 When earth was beautiful and bright. 
 And warblers poured their sweetest lays. 
 
 5. And I have wished that I could fly 
 
 With you afar, when winter lowers, 
 To bask beneath a cloudless sky. 
 Or roam among the myrtle bowers. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 117 
 
 6. And I have wished to find a nest, 
 
 Where, undisturbed by care or strife, 
 In calm seclusion I might rest. 
 
 And pass the sunny hours of life : — 
 
 7. Where I might dwell, till o'er my head 
 
 Age stretched its deepening clouds of gloom, 
 And then my wings I'd heavenward spread, 
 To seek a land of bliss and bloom. 
 
 8. Gay birds ! ye visit us when bright 
 
 The summer sun in glory shines ; 
 But from our fields ye take your flight 
 When autumn day by day declines. 
 
 9. And so, like you, we often find 
 
 That those, in fortune's golden day, 
 Who seemed companions, loving, kind, 
 
 When storms arise will haste away. Anon. 
 
 1. And is the swallow gone'? 
 
 Who beheld it^ ? 
 Which way sailed it^ ? 
 Farewell bade it none' ? 
 
 2. No mortal saw it go : 
 
 But who doth hear 
 Its summer cheer 
 As it flitteth to and fro^ ? 
 
 3. So the freed spirit flies ! 
 
 From its surrounding clay 
 It steals away 
 Like the swallow from the skies. 
 
 4. Whither^ ? wherefore doth it go^ ? 
 
 'Tis all unknown^ ; 
 We feel alone 
 That a void is left below. 
 
 William Howitt, 
 
118 
 
 WILLSON'S POUETH KEADEB. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 PEECHING BmDS— Continued. 
 
 LESSON XVI. 
 THE CONE-BILLS (CONIROSTRES). 
 
 Scale of Inches. 
 
 1. Red Tanager, or Scarlet Sparrow, Tanager rubra. 2. English Jay, Cormis glanda- 
 rius. 3. Baltimore Oriole, Oriolus Baltimore. 4. Common Cross-bill, Loxia curviros- 
 tra. 6. Common Goldfinch, Fringilla carduelis. 6. American Blue Jay, Corvus cris- 
 fatus. 7. Cardinal Cirosbeak, Loxia cardinalis. 8. Senegal Touraco, Corythaix Senegct 
 lensis. 9. Raven, Corvus corax. 10. Magpie, Corvus pica. 11. Violet Plantain-eater, 
 Musophaga violacea. 12. Meadow Lark, Alauda Magita. 
 
 1. In the third division of the perch ers are the birds which 
 have cone-shaped bills. Seeds and grain are the principal 
 food of these birds ; and for picking these from their fre- 
 quently hard coverings, as well as for crushing hard seeds, 
 their stout and horny beaks are well fitted. These birds 
 have been divided into the several families of the Crows, tho 
 Starlings, the Finches, the Horn-bills, and the Plantain-eaters. 
 
 2. In the crow family are included the well-known raven 
 (the " corbie" of Scotland), celebrated from time immemorial 
 as a bird of evil omen ; that thief and vagabond the common 
 crow, and his near cousins the rooks, both pests of the corn- 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 119 
 
 fields ; the European jackdaw, the mischievous blue jay, the 
 chattering magpies, and the nut-crackers. The latter have 
 the most perfect of the cone-shaped bills. The well-known 
 blue jay, whose screaming voice sounds among his fellow 
 musicians of the woods like the harsh notes of a trumpeter, 
 is found only in North America. A writer who has well 
 described him says, " He is distinguished as a kind of beau 
 among the feathered tenants^ of our woods by the brilliancy 
 of his dress ; and, like most other coxcombs,^ he makes him- 
 self still more conspicuous by his loquacity,^ and the address 
 of his tones and gestures." 
 
 3. The magpie, which is much better known in Europe 
 than in this country, is about eighteen inches in length, and 
 is noted for his pilfering and restless habits, and noisy man- 
 ners, as well as for his gay plumage, which is a velvety black, 
 intermingled with white, blue, and green. He is easily 
 taught to imitate the human voice. This same bird has been 
 found in considerable numbers in portions of the country 
 west of the Mississippi ; but it has been noticed that where 
 the magpie is found the blue jay is unknown, as if the terri- 
 torial boundaries of these two noisy and voracious"^ families 
 had been mutually agreed on. 
 
 4. Plutarch tells us of a magpie belonging to a barber at 
 Rome which could imitate almost every word it heard. jSome 
 trumpets happened one day to be sounded before the sjiop, 
 and for a day or two afterward the magpie was quite mute, 
 and seemed pensive and melancholy. All who knew it were 
 greatly surprised at its silence ; and it was supposed that the 
 sound of the trumpets had so stunned it as to deprive it at 
 once of both voice and hearing. 
 
 5. It soon appeared, however, that this was far from being 
 the case ; for, says Plutarch, the bird had been all the time 
 occupied in profound meditation, studying how to imitate the 
 sound of the trumpets ; and when at last master of it, the 
 magpie, to the astonishment of all its friends, suddenly broke 
 its long silence by a perfect imitation of the flourish of trum- 
 pets it had heard, observing with the greatest exactness all 
 the repetitions, stops, and changes. The acquisition of this 
 lesson had, however, exhausted the whole of the magpie's 
 
120 
 
 willson's fotjeth beadee. 
 
 PAETn. 
 
 The common Starling. 
 
 stock of intellect, for it made it forget every thing it had 
 learned before. 
 
 6. Among the starlings are included the common and red- 
 winged starlings, the 
 meadow starling or 
 meadow lark, and the 
 several species of 
 blackbirds. Although 
 our meadow lark can 
 not boast the powers 
 of song which distin- 
 guish that "harbin- 
 ger of day," the sky- 
 lark of Europe, yet in 
 richness of plumage, 
 
 as well as in sweetness of voice, so far as his few notes ex- 
 tend, he is eminently its superior. 
 
 7. Our common blackbird, called also the purple grakle, is 
 a well-known plunderer of corn-fields ; yet his merry presence 
 adds a charm to the mellow days of autumn, and we would 
 not wUlingly part with him. 
 
 " In the last days of autumn, when the com 
 
 Lies sweet and yellow in the harvest-field, 
 ^ And the gay company of reapers bind 
 
 The bearded wheat in sheaves, then peals abroad 
 * The blackbird's merry chant. I love to hear, 
 
 Bold plunderer, thy mellow burst of song 
 
 Float from thy watch-place on the mossy tree, 
 
 Close by the corn-field edge." 
 
 8. In the group of starlings are also included the orioles, 
 or hang-nests, of which the Baltimore oriole, also known as 
 the golden robin, firebird, and fire - hangbird, is the most 
 noted. The head, back, and wings of the oriole are black, 
 and the lower parts and breast of a golden orange. In con- 
 structing his hanging nest, the oriole displays great ingenui- 
 ty in using the best materials which he can procure; and 
 skeins of stolen silk and thread are frequently found inter- 
 woven in the fabric. 
 
 9. "High on yon poplar, clad in glossiest green, 
 
 The orange black-capped Baltimore is seen ; 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 121 
 
 The broad, extended boughs still please him best ; 
 Beneath their bending skirts he hangs his nest ; 
 There his sweet mate, secure from every harm. 
 Broods o'er her spotted store, and wraps them warm : 
 Lists to the noontide hum of busy bees, 
 Her partner's mellow song, the brook, the breeze ; 
 These day by day the lonely hours deceive, 
 From dewy morn to slow descending eve. 
 
 1 0. Two weeks elapsed, ^ behold ! a helpless crew 
 Claim all her care, and her affection too; 
 On wings of love the assiduous® nurses fly ; 
 Flowers, leaves, and boughs abundant food supply. 
 Glad chants her guardian as abroad he goes, 
 And waving breezes rock them to repose." 
 
 11. The finches, which are the smallest of the perchers, are, 
 for the most part, excellent songsters. In this numerous 
 family are found the weaver birds, celebrated for their curi- 
 ous hive-shaped nests, the buntings, and snowbirds, the lat- 
 ter visiting us in winter only from the frozen regions of the 
 north, the indigo-bird, the hawfinch, groundfinch, our com- 
 mon Canary bird, and the American yellow-bird, known also 
 as the thistle-finch or goldfinch. 
 
 "I love to see the little goldfinch pluck 
 The seed from thistle's tuft, and twit, and twit ; 
 And then, in some gay bower of blossoms perched, 
 Trim his gay suit, and pay us with a song : 
 / would not hold him prisoner for the world. " 
 
 12. In the same group is found the English chaffinch, 
 which has been described 
 
 " As brisk, as merry, and as loved a bird 
 As any in the fields and woodlands heard." 
 Here are also found the cross-bills, the linnets, and many oth- 
 ers that are often called sparrows, among which are the song- 
 sparrow and the well-known chipping-bird. In this goodly 
 company we also place the English skylark : 
 
 " Shrill- voiced and loud, the messenger of morn, 
 Ere yet the shadows fly, he, mounted, sings 
 Amid the dawning clouds." 
 
 "Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam ; 
 True to the kindred points of heaven and home." 
 
 13. The horn-bills and plantain-eaters are mostly birds of 
 
 F 
 
122 
 
 WnXSON'S FOUETH READEE. 
 
 Pabt II. 
 
 large size, confined to Africa, India, and the adjacent islands. 
 Among the plantain-eaters are several species of the touracos, 
 which have great brilliancy of plumage, elegance of form, 
 and grace of motion. It has been said of the violet plantain- 
 eater, that " while other birds are pretty, handsome, splendid, 
 gorgeous, beautiful, the coloring of the plantain-eater is truly 
 regalP The engraved picture of this bird, without its color- 
 ing, conveys a very inadequate"^ idea of its beauty. 
 
 1 Ten'-ants, inhabitants. 
 
 2 €6x'-€0mb, a fop ; a vain, showy fellow. 
 
 3 Lo-QUAo'-i-TY, talkativeness. 
 
 * Vo-ra'-cio08, greedy for eating ; hungry. 
 
 5 E-i.ap8'ed, passed by. 
 
 6 As-sib'-d-otjs, attentive ; careful. 
 
 7 In-ad'-e-quate, insufficient ; imperfect. 
 
 LESSON XYII. 
 
 THE SNOWBIRD (Fringilla Hyemalis). 
 
 1. The well-known snowbird is 
 one of our visitants from the frozen 
 regions of the north, coming even 
 from beyond the arctic circle, and 
 spreading over the United States 
 in small flocks at the beginning of 
 winter. At first they hover around 
 the borders of woods ; but as the 
 weather sets in colder, they approach the farm-houses and 
 villages in diligent search oi food. 
 
 2. Their increased activity on such occasions is generally a 
 Bure prognostic^ of a storm. On the first indications of spring 
 many of them set out on their return to the north, while oth- 
 ers first visit high ranges of mountains, where they build their 
 nests and rear their young previous to their departure. The 
 plumage of the snowbird undergoes^ considerable changes. 
 The snow-bunting is a bird somewhat similar to this, but has 
 more pointed wings. The following lines to the snowbird 
 contain both poetic and moral beauty : 
 
 3. " Oh I what will become of thee, poor little bird ? 
 The muttering storm in the distance is heard ; 
 The rough winds are waking, the clouds growing black, 
 They'll soon scatter snow-flakes all over thy back I 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 123 
 
 From what sunny clime hast thou wandered away ? 
 And what art thou doing this cold winter day ? 
 
 " * I'm picking the gum from the old peach-tree ; 
 The storm doesn't trouble me. Chee, dee, dee. ' 
 
 4. "But what makes thee seem so unconscious of care ? 
 The brown earth is frozen, the branches are bare : 
 And how canst thou be so light-hearted and free, . 
 As if danger and suffering thou never should'st sec, 
 When no place is near for thy evening nest, 
 No leaf for thy screen, ^ for thy bosom no rest? 
 
 *' 'Because the same hand is a shelter to me, 
 That took off the summer leaves. Chee, dee, dee. ' 
 
 6. "But man feels a burden* of care and of grief, 
 
 While plucking the cluster and binding the sheaf. 
 In the summer we faint, in the winter we're chilled, 
 With ever a void* that is yet to be filled. 
 We take from the ocean, the earth, and the air, 
 Yet all their rich gifts do not silence our care. 
 
 " 'A very small portion sufficient will be. 
 If sweetened with gratitude. Chee, dee, dee.' 
 
 6. "I thank thee, bright monitor f what thou hast taught 
 
 Will oft be the theme^ of the happiest thought ; 
 . We look at the clouds; while the birds have an eye 
 To Him who reigns over them, changeless and high. 
 And now, little hero, just tell me thy name. 
 That I may be sure whence my oracle® came. 
 
 " 'Because, in all weather, I'm merry and free. 
 They call me the Winter King. Chee, dee, dee.' 
 
 7. "But soon there'll be ice weighing down the light bough, 
 
 On which thou art flitting so playfully now ; 
 
 And though there's a vesture^ well fitted and warm. 
 
 Protecting the rest of thy delicate form. 
 
 What, then, wilt thou do with thy little bare feet. 
 
 To save them from pain, 'mid the frost and the sleet ? 
 
 " 'I can draw them right up in my feathers, you see. 
 To warm them, and fly away. Chee, dee, dee. ' " 
 
 Miss Gould. 
 
 Pkog-mos'-tic, a sign bj- •vvliich a future 
 
 event may be known. 
 
 Un-deb-goes', passes through. 
 
 StTREEN, that which shelters from danger. 
 
 BCr'-den, load ; -weight. 
 
 VoiP, want ; longing. 
 
 6 M6n'-i-toe, one who warns of faults or iu- 
 
 forms of duties. 
 ■' Theme, subject. 
 
 8 or'-a-cle, a wise saying of groat author- 
 ity. 
 
 9 Vest'-xjee, garment 
 
124 willson's fotjeth keadek. PaetII. 
 
 LESSON xvin. 
 
 THE SONG-SPARROW {Fringilh Melodia), 
 
 1. "Of all our sparrows, the 
 song-sparrow, or melodious finch, 
 is the most numerous, the most 
 generally diifused over the 
 United States, and by far the 
 earliest, sweetest, and most last- 
 ing songster. It is the first sing- 
 ing bird of spring, taking pre- 
 cedence^ even of the bluebird, and it often remains until the 
 depth of winter. The notes or chant of its song are short, 
 but very sweet, resembling the beginning of the canary's 
 song. It usually builds its nest on the ground, under a tuft 
 of grass. As far south as Louisiana it rears three broods in 
 one season ; and, unlike most other birds, it builds a new nest 
 for each." — Wilson. It is usually found in company with 
 the chipping-bird, and birds of that class. It seems to repre- 
 sent, in America, the house-sparrow of Europe, but is less 
 bold and crafty than the latter bird. The following tribute 
 to the song-sparrow is full of sentiment and beauty : 
 
 2. " Joy fills the vale ; 
 
 With joy ecstatic^ quivers every wing, 
 As floats thy note upon the geniaP gale, 
 Sweet bird of spring ! 
 
 3. ♦* The violet 
 
 Awakens at thy song, and peers* from out 
 Its fragrant nook, as if the season yet 
 Remained in doubt ; 
 
 4. ** While from the rock 
 
 The columbine its crimson bell suspends, 
 That careless vibrates,^ as its slender stalk 
 The zephyr^ bends. 
 
 6. " Say! when the blast 
 
 Of winter swept our whitened plains — what clime, 
 What sunnier realms thou charmedst, and how was past 
 The joyous time ? 
 
2d Div. OP ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 125 
 
 6. " Did the green isles 
 
 Detain thee long ? or, 'mid the palmy groves 
 Of the bright south, where nature ever smiles, 
 Didst sing thy loves ? 
 
 7. " Oh,' well I know 
 
 Why thou art here thus soon, and why the bowers 
 So near the sun have lesser charms than now 
 
 Our land of flowers : • 
 
 8. *' Thou art returned 
 
 On a glad errand — to rebnild thy nest, 
 And fan anew the gentle fire that burned 
 "Within thy breast ! 
 
 9. " And thy wild strain, 
 
 Poured on the gale, is love's transportmg voice — 
 That, calling on the plumy"' choir^ again. 
 Bids them rejoice. 
 
 10. " Nor calls alone 
 
 To enjoy, but bids improve the fleeting hour — 
 Bids all that ever heard love's witthing tone. 
 Or felt his power. 
 
 11. "The poet, too, 
 
 It soft invokes' to touch the trembling wire ;^^ 
 Yet ah ! how few its sounds shall list, how few 
 His song admire I 
 
 12. " But thy sweet lay. 
 
 Thou darling of the spring ! no ear disdains ; 
 
 Thy sage instructress. Nature, says, 'Be gay!' 
 
 And prompts thy strains." 
 
 13. "Oh, if I knew 
 
 Like thee to sing — like thee the heart to fire — 
 Youth should enchanted throng, and beauty sue 
 To hear my lyre.'* 
 
 H. " Oft as the year 
 
 In gloom is wrapped, thy exile I shall mourn — 
 Oft as the spring returns, shall hail sincere 
 
 Thy glad return." IT. Pickeking. 
 
 1 Pee-oed'-enob, the act or state of being 
 first. 
 
 f PttJM'-Y, feathered. 
 
 8 €hoib (kwlre), singers. 
 
 9 Tn-voke', call upon. 
 Wire, here used for stringed instrument 
 
 2 E€-8tat'-ic, delightful beyond measure. 
 
 3 6e'-ni-al, enlivening; cheerful. 
 
 * PBEUSjpeeps forth. I of music. 
 
 * Vi'-BEATES, moves to and fro. pi Strains, songs, 
 
 « Zeph'-yr, a soft mild breeze. I" Lyke, a kind of harp. 
 
126 WILLSON'S FOUETH BEADEB. Pakt II. 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 THE ENGLISH SKYLAEK. 
 
 1. Bird of the wilderness, 
 Blithesome^ and cumberless,^ 
 
 Sweet be thy matin^ o'er moorland* and lea I^ 
 
 Emblem of happiness, 
 
 Blest is thy dwellmg-place — 
 O, to abide in the desert with thee ! 
 
 2. Wild is thy lay,^ and loud, 
 Far in the downy cloud. 
 
 Love gives it energy, love gave it birth, 
 
 Where on thy dewy wing — 
 
 Where art thou journeying ? 
 Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. 
 
 3. O'er felP and fountain sheen,^ 
 O'er moor and mountain green. 
 
 O'er the red streamers that herald the day. 
 
 Over the cloudlet dim. 
 
 Over the rainbow's rim. 
 Musical cherub, soar, singing away ! 
 
 4. Then, when the gloaming^ comes, 
 Low in the heather^o blooms. 
 
 Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be ! 
 
 Emblem of happiness, 
 
 Blest is thy dwelling-place — 
 O, to abide in the desert with thee ! 
 
 James Hogg. 
 
 1 ■RLTTira'-86MK, gay; cheerful. 
 
 2 €CM'-nEE-LE88, free ; light ; airy. 
 
 3 Mat'-in, morning song. 
 
 ♦ Moob'-land, a marshy tract. 
 6 Lka, a meadow or plain. ■ which is abundant in t^cotland, 
 
 • Lay, a song. I 
 
 7 Fkll, a barren or stony hilL 
 
 8 Sheen, bright ; glittering. 
 
 9 GlOam'-ino, evening twilight (Scottioh). 
 10 IIeath'-kr, pertaining to the heath plant, 
 
3d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 127 
 
 LESSON XX. 
 
 THE LARK AND THE ROOK. 
 
 1. *' GooD-isriGHT, Sir Rook!" said a little lark, 
 " The daylight fades — it will soon be dark ; 
 I've bathed my wings in the sun's last ray, 
 I've sung my hymn to the dying day ; 
 
 So now I haste to my quiet nook^ 
 
 In yon dewy meadow — good-night, Sir Rook." 
 
 2. " Good-nightj poor lark !" said his titled friend, 
 With a haughty toss and a distant bend ; 
 
 " I also go to my rest profound, 
 
 But not to sleep on the cold, damp ground ; 
 
 The fittest place for a bird like me 
 
 Is the topmost bough of yon tall pine-tree. 
 
 3. " I opened my eyes at peep^ of day, 
 And saw you taking your upward way. 
 Dreaming your fond romantic dreams. 
 An ugly speck in the sun's bright beams ; 
 Soaring too high to be seen or heard — 
 And said to myself. What a foolish bird ! 
 
128 willson's fourth eeadee. Part II. 
 
 4. " I trod the park with a princely air ; 
 I fiU'd my crop with the richest fare ; 
 I caw'd^ all day 'mid a lordly crew, 
 
 And I made more noise in the world than you ! 
 
 The sun shone full on my ebon* wing ; 
 
 I looked and wondered — good-night, poor thing !" 
 
 5. " Good-night, once more," said the lark's sweet voice, 
 " I see no cause to repent my choice ; 
 
 You build your nest in the lofty pine. 
 But is your slumber more soft than mine ? 
 You make more noise in the world than I, 
 But whose is the sweeter minstrelsy ?"^ 
 
 Wayside Gatherings. 
 
 1 Nook, corner. j* £b'-on, black. 
 
 > Pbbp, dawn. P MTn'-stkel-sy, singing. The occupatioa 
 
 ' €aw, to cry like a crow, rook, or raven. | of a musical performer. 
 
 LESSON XXI. 
 
 BIRDS IN SUMMER. 
 
 1. flow pleasant the life of a bird must be, 
 Flitting about in each leafy tree ; 
 
 In the leafy trees, so broad and tall. 
 
 Like a green and beautiful palace hall. 
 
 With its airy chambers, light and boon, 
 
 That open to sun, and stars, and moon. 
 
 That open unto the bright blue sky, 
 
 And the frolicsome winds as they wander by ! 
 
 2. What a joy it must be, like a living breeze. 
 To flutter about 'mong the flowering trees ; 
 Lightly to soar, and to see beneath 
 
 The wastes of the blossoming purple heath, 
 And the yellow furze, like fields of gold, 
 Th^t gladden some fairy region old ! 
 On mountain tops, on the billowy sea. 
 On the leafy stems of the forest tree. 
 How pleasant the life of a bird must be ! 
 
 Mart Howitt. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 129 
 
 THE PEECHING BIRDS— Continued. 
 
 LESSON XXII. 
 THE THIN-BILLS {TENUIROSTRES). 
 
 Scale of Inches. 
 
 1. Purple Long-tailed Sunbird, Nectarinea platura. 2. Emerald Bird of Paradise, 
 Paradisea apoda. 3. Stokes's Humming-bird, Trochilus Stokesii. 4. Nepaul Sunbird, 
 Nectarinea Nepalensis. 5. Malachite S. B., Nectarinea famosa. 6. Vieillot's II. B., 
 Trochilus chalybeus. 7. Tufted-necked H. B., Trochilus omatus. 8. Hoopoe, Upupa 
 epops. 9. Ked-throated H. B., Trochilus colubris. 10. Amethyst-throated S. B., Nec- 
 tarinea amethystina. 11. Topaz-throated H. B., Trochilus pellu. 
 
 1. The thin-billed birds have been considered by an em- 
 inent naturalist^ " the most interesting of the animal world," 
 as the smallest birds and the most brilliantly adorned are con- 
 tained in this group. Here are found the hoopoes, the del- 
 icate humming-birds, the sunbirds of the torrid zone, and the 
 far-famed birds of Paradise. 
 
 2. The hoopoes, which are a group of brilliant African 
 birds, occasionally ieen in Europe, are not found in this coun- 
 try. One of these birds, which is of a reddish-gray and black 
 color above, and white below, with an ample crest of orange- 
 brown feathers, strays occasionally to the British isles, where 
 it attracts considerable attention. An African species, not 
 
 F2 
 
130 willson's fourth EEADEK. Paet II. 
 
 found in Europe, is said to glitter in the sunlight with the 
 most brilliant hues of azure^ and emerald^ green. 
 
 3. The Humming-birds, of which more than a hundred 
 species are known to exist, are wholly confined to the Amer- 
 ican continent and the adjacent islands. These beautiful 
 "flower birds," "the jewels of ornithology," have excited 
 the admiration of all who have observed them, by their del- 
 icate forms and the dazzling splendor of their plumage. 
 
 " The humming-bird ! the humming-bird I 
 So faiiy-like and bright ; 
 It lives among the sunny flowers, 
 
 A creature of delight." — Mrs. Howitt. 
 
 They are the smallest of the feathered races, some species 
 being exceeded in size and weight by several of the insect 
 tribe. 
 
 4. These fairy birds swarm in the tropical forests of South 
 America, fairly covering the dense growth of wild flowers, 
 whose blossoms only give way in beauty to the sparkling 
 tints of their airy tenants. 
 
 "Like fairy sprites,* a thousand birds 
 Glance by on golden wing ; 
 Birds lovelier than the lovely hues 
 Of the bloom^ wherein they sing." 
 
 They also abound in gardens, and seem to delight in the so- 
 ciety of man, becoming familiar and destitute of fear, hovering 
 near a shrub in bloom while the flowers are plucked from 
 the opposite side. 
 
 6. Only three or four species of humming-birds are found 
 within the limits of the United States, and of these the red- 
 throated, or northern humming-bird, well known for its 
 golden-green back, purple wings, and ruby^-colored throat, is 
 the most common. It is three inches and a half long from 
 the tip of its bill to the end of its tail. It is often seen hover- 
 ing among the arbors of honeysuckles and beds of flowers, 
 poising"^ itself in the air for the space of tT^o or three seconds, 
 with a murmuring noise made by the rapid motion of its 
 scarcely visible wings, thrusting its long tubular tongue into 
 the flowers in search of food, and then suddenly darting off" 
 with a rapidity so great that the eye can not follow it. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENTTHOLOGY. 131 
 
 6. " When moming dawns, and the bless'd sun again 
 
 Lifts his red glories from the eastern main,^ 
 Then round our woodbines, wet with glittering dews. 
 The flower-fed humming-bird his round pursues ; 
 Sips with inserted tube the honeyed blooms, 
 And chirps his gratitude as round he roams ; 
 While richest roses, though in crimson dress'd, 
 Shrink from the splendor of his gorgeous breast. 
 
 7. " The pui-ple amethyst,^ the emerald's green, 
 
 Contrasted mingle with the ruby's sheen, 
 
 While over all a tissue is put on 
 
 Of golden gauze, by fairy fingers spun. 
 
 What heavenly tints in mingled radiance^" fly! 
 
 Each rapid movement gives a different dye ;" 
 
 Like scales of burnish'd geld they dazzling show, 
 
 Now sink to shade, now like a furnace glow." 
 
 8. Humming-birds were long supposed to feed only upon 
 the honey or sweet juices of flowers, but later observations 
 have proved that they feed upon insects also. The females 
 are without the splendid plumage of the males, and are 
 clothed in modest dress. The nests of the several species 
 vary greatly in form and structure ; but in all they are made 
 of the softest, warmest, and most delicate materials. 
 
 9. The SuNBiEDS, so called fi'QM^ their splendid glossy 
 plumage, which appears really gorgeous when played upon 
 by the sunbeams, are found chiefly in the tropical regions of 
 Asia and Africa, although a few species occur in South Amer- 
 ica and the adjacent islands. The appearance which these 
 birds present has been thus described : 
 
 "Each spangled^" back bright sprinkled specks adorn; 
 Each plume imbibes the rosy- tinctured morn ; 
 Spread on each wing the florid seasons glow. 
 Shaded and verged with the celestial bow ;" 
 Where colors blend an ever-varying dye. 
 And, wanton,^* in their gay exchanges vie."^^ 
 
 10. The birds of Paradise, which are mostly natives of 
 New Guinea, include some of the most singular and magnifi- 
 cent of the feathered tribes. The emerald bird of Paradise, 
 which is about the size of a common pigeon, is the one best 
 known, and is said to surpass all other birds in its beauty of 
 form, and the vivid and changing tints of its plumage. 
 
132 willson's fourth readee. PaktII. 
 
 » 
 
 "Bright in the orient" realms of morn, 
 All beauty's richest hues adorn 
 
 The bird of Paradise." — Hemans. 
 
 Its body, breast, and lower parts are of a deep rich brown ; 
 the forehead is velvety black, spotted with green; the head 
 yellow ; the throat of a rich golden green ; the sides of the 
 tail of a golden yellow ; in addition to which there are two 
 long thread-like feathers which extend from the tail nearly 
 two feet in length. 
 
 11. Of these long and beautiful feathers the bird is so proud 
 that it will not suffer the least speck of dirt to remain on 
 them ; and it is constantly examining its plumage to see that 
 there are no spots on it. In its wild state this bird always 
 flies and sits with its face to the wind,"lest its elegant plumes 
 should be disarranged. The female is without the long float- 
 ing plumes of the male, and her colors are less brilliant. 
 
 12. But, although Nature has robed in beauty the birds of 
 the torrid zone, she has denied them the charms of song, 
 while, with a wise compensation," she has given the latter to 
 the more modest-robed denizens^^ of colder climes. Thus, 
 while prodigaP^ of her gifts, she bestows them with a frugapo 
 hand : she scatters bles«||gs upon all, but gives not to each 
 the same tokens of her f^or. 
 
 "Wide o'er the winding umbrage^^ of the floods, 
 Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar, 
 Thick swarm the brighter birds. For Nature's hand, 
 That with a sportive vanity has decked 
 The plumy nations, there her gayest hues 
 Profusely pours. But, if she bids them shine, 
 Arrayed in all the beauteous beams of day, 
 Yet frugal still, she humbles them in song.'' — Thomson. 
 
 1 NIt'-c-kai--i8T, one who studies natural! n Dye, hue; color. 
 
 history. i^ Span'-gled, covered with brilliant spotfc 
 
 2 az'-Cbe, the fine blue color of the sky. or epangles. 
 
 3 fiM'-E-RALD, a preciouB stone of a green '^ H5w, the rainbow, 
 color. 
 
 * RpeTte, a spirit. 
 
 * Bloom, blossoms ; flowers. 
 
 6 Ru'-BY, red. 
 
 7 Pois'-iNG, balancing. 
 
 8 Main, the sea. 
 
 9 am'-e-tht8t, a precious stone of a bluish 
 violet color. 
 
 10 Ki'-Di-ANOE, vivid brightueaa. 
 
 * Wan'-ton, sportive : frolicsome. 
 
 15 Vie, strive for superiority. 
 
 16 o'-Bi-ENT, eastern. 
 
 !■' €om-pen-8a'-tion, that which is ^ven tc 
 
 make up some loss. 
 18 Dkn'-i-zens, inhabitants. 
 1* I^Qd'-i-gal, profuse. 
 20 FbC'-qal, not wasteful. 
 81 CM'-iiBAuE, shade ; gcreen of trees. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 133 
 
 m. CLIMBEES {SCANSOEES). 
 
 LESSON xxm. 
 
 3 
 
 Scale of Inches. 
 
 1. Great Green Macaw, Macrocercics militaris. 2. Nuthatch, Sitta Carolinensia. 3. 
 Red-billed Toucan, Raniphastos erythorynchus. 4. Papuan Loiy, Psittacus Papuensis. 
 5. Crested Cockatoo, Plyctolophus Leadheateri. 6. Swindern's Love Bird, Agapcenis 
 Swinderianns. 7. Alexandrine Ring-Parrakeet, Palceornis A lexandri. 8. House Wren, 
 Sylvia domestica. 9. Carolina Parrot, Psittacus Carolinensds. 10. Red-headed Wood- 
 pecker, Picas erythrocephalus. 11. Golden-winged Woodpecker, Piq^ auratiis. 12. 
 American Cuckoo, Cuculua Americanus. 
 
 1 . The third order of birds, which is included by some in 
 the great division of the perchers, is composed of what are 
 called the climbing birds, most of which are distinguished 
 from the birds of the other orders by having two toes turned 
 backward and two forward, a provision^ which eminently^ 
 fits them for climbing the trunks of trees and hanging among 
 their branches. In this division are found the woodpeckers, 
 the creepers, the toucans, the cuckoos, and the parrots. 
 
 2. Of the numerous family of the woodpeckers, which are 
 widely scattered over both the Eastern and Western conti- 
 nents, twenty different species are found within the United 
 States. Of these the golden- winged and the red-headed seem 
 
134 WILLSOn's FOUETH reader. Pakt II. 
 
 to be universally known. The habits of all are much ahke, 
 as all of them dig into trees with their strong bills, and strip 
 off the bark to find the worms and insects concealed beneath. 
 The allied^ family of the creepers includes the nuthatches and 
 those familiar little birds, the wrens. 
 
 3. Alexander Wilson, the ornithologist,'^ gives a curious 
 account of a pair of wrens w^hich had built in a box by his 
 bedroom window. The nest had been completed, and two 
 eggs had been laid, when, the window and door of the room 
 having been left open, the female wren entered to reconnoi- 
 ter f and, venturing too far, was sprung upon by the cat and 
 destroyed. 
 
 4. " Curious," he adds, " to see how the widowed survivor 
 would behave on the tragical occasion, I watched him care- 
 fully for several days. At first he sung with great vivacity 
 for an hour or so, but, becoming uneasy, he went off for half 
 an hour. On his return he chanted as before, and went to 
 the top of the house, stable, and weeping-willow, that his 
 lost mate might hear. But as he could neither see nor hear 
 any thing of her, he returned again to visit the nest, ven- 
 tured cautiously in at the window, and gazed about with sus- 
 picious looks, sinking his voice to a low, melancholy note as 
 he stretched his little neck about in every direction. 
 
 6. " Returning to the box, he seemed, for some minutes, 
 at a loss what to do, and then went off, as I supposed, alto- 
 gether, for \ saw him no more that day. Toward the after- 
 noon of the second day, however, he again made his appear- 
 ance, accompanied by a«female wren, which seemed exceed- 
 ingly timorous^ and shy ; but, after some hesitation, she en- 
 tered the box. 
 
 6. "At this moment the little widower, or bridegroom, 
 seemed as though he would warble out his very life in an ec- 
 stasy"^ of joy- After remaining in about half a minute, they 
 both flew off, but returned in a few minutes, and instantly 
 began to carry out the eggs, the feathers, and some of the 
 sticks, supplying the place of the latter two with materials 
 of the same sort. They ultimately succeeded in raising a 
 brood of seven young, all of which escaped in safety." 
 
 7. ^lany poets have sung of the gallant attention of the 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 135 
 
 male wren to his mate during the period of incubation.^ We 
 quote the following : 
 
 "Within thy warm and mossy cell, 
 Where scarce 'twould seem thyself could dwell, 
 Twice eight, a speckled brood, we tell, 
 
 Nestling beneath thy wing ; 
 And still unwearied, many a day. 
 Thy little partner loves to stay, 
 Perch'd on some trembling timber spray,^ 
 
 Beside his mate to sing." — Wood. 
 
 8. And to the same purpose, Wordsworth, in his well- 
 known lines " On a Wren's Nest," beautifully says, 
 
 *' There to the breeding bird, her mate 
 Warbles by fits his low, clear song, 
 And by the busy streamlet both 
 Are sung to all day long." 
 
 9. The toucans, which are all natives of tropical America, 
 are an interesting family of large forest birds, clothed wuth 
 brilliant plumage. They are easily recognized by the great 
 size of the beak, which, in some of the species, is nearly as 
 large and as long as the body itself; and yet it is rendered 
 remarkably light by its honey-comb structure. The toucan 
 takes great care of its bill, packing it away carefully in the 
 feathers of its back before sleeping. 
 
 10. The cuckoos are a small family of half-perching and 
 half-climbmg birds. Of the few that are found in northern 
 climes, the common European cuckoo has ever been regard- 
 ed with great interest, as its melodious but rather mournful 
 note in early spring, heralding^^ the return of sunny skies 
 and bursting vegetation, carries with it dear associations in 
 every country where it is known. 
 
 11. And yet the reputation of this bird is bad ; for it makes 
 no nests of its own, but steals into the nests of other birds, 
 and leaves to them the whole care of its eggs and its young. 
 Nor is this all. The young cuckoo has the remarkable facul- 
 ty of getting rid of its companions in the nest by creeping 
 under them and throwing them out, by which means it se- 
 cures to itself all the attention and care of its foster-parent." 
 The American yellow-billed cuckoo, we are happy to say, is 
 a much more honorable bird than its European cousin, as it 
 
136 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH KEADEE. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 builds its own nests, hatches its own eggs, and rears its own 
 young. 
 
 7 K€'-STA-8Y, extreme delight. 
 
 8 In-€u-ba'-tion, the act of sitting on eggs 
 for the purpose of hatching young. 
 
 9 Tim'-ber spray, twig of a tree. 
 '0 Hkb'-ald-ing, announcing. 
 11 Fos'-ter-p.ar'-bnt, one who takes the 
 
 place of a parent. 
 
 1 Peo-vi"»ion, arrangement. 
 
 ■ £m'-i-nent-ly, in a peculiar manner, 
 
 3 Al-lTed', related. 
 
 * Oe-ni-thol'-o-gist, one who describes 
 birds. 
 
 » RE-€ON-NOi'-TEE,to examine ; look around. 
 
 * TIm'-ob-O08, timid ; afraid. 
 
 LESSON XXIV. 
 
 PARROTS. 
 
 1. The parrots, which belong to the class of climbing birds, 
 are remarkable for their gay, varied, and, in many instances, 
 splendid plumage ; their hooked and powerful bill ; their 
 thick, fleshy tongue ; their intelligence and docility ;^ and the 
 peculiar facility^ with which many of them learn to imitate 
 the human voice. The numerous members of this family are 
 grouped under several divisions, such as parrakeets, macaws, 
 the parrots proper, the cockatoos, and the lories. 
 
 2. The parrots are of nearly all colors, red, yellow, green. 
 
2d Div. OP ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 137 
 
 blue, and scarlet. The crested cockatoo is nearly white, with 
 a crest of bright yellow. The Papuan lory, a bird of grace- 
 ftil form and motions, is particularly noted for its scarlet 
 plumes, which flash with exceeding brilliancy when the sun- 
 light strikes upon them in the depth of its native forests. 
 
 *' There, through the trunks, with moss and lichens^ white, 
 The sunshine darts its interrupted light. 
 And 'mid the cedar's darksome boughs illumes,* 
 With instant touch, the lory's scarlet plumes." — Bowles. 
 
 3. The parrots are mostly birds of warm climates ; and in 
 their native wilds, when climbing among the trees and hang- 
 ing from the branches in every possible attitude,^ their move- 
 ments are marked by an ^ ease and grace of motion that we 
 can never see exhibited in a state of confinement. Of one 
 hundred and seventy of the parrot family that have been de- 
 scribed, only one species is a native of the United States. 
 Many interesting incidents illustrating the character and hab- 
 its of these birds might be related. The following, by the 
 poet Campbell, is believed to be a true story : 
 
 4. "A parrot from the Spanish Main, 
 
 Full young, and early caged, came o'er 
 With bright wings to the bleak domain 
 Of Mulla's^ shore. 
 
 6. "To spicy groves, where he had won' 
 
 His plumage of resplendent^ hue. 
 His native fruits, and skies, and sun. 
 He bade adieu. 
 
 6. "He changed these for the smoke of tmf, 
 
 A heathery' land and misty sky, 
 And turned on rocks and raging surf 
 His golden eye. 
 
 7. " But, fretted in our climate cold. 
 
 He lived and chattered many a day, 
 Until, with age, from green and gold 
 His wings grew gray. 
 
 8. "At last, when, blind and seeming dumb. 
 
 He scolded, laughed, and spoke no more, 
 A Spanish stranger chanced to come 
 To Mulla's shore. 
 
138 
 
 willson's poueth reader. 
 
 Pakt it. 
 
 9. "He hailed the bird in Spanish speech, 
 
 * The bird in Spanish speech replied, 
 
 Flapped round the cage with joyous screech, 
 Dropped down — and died." 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 1 Do-cTl'-i-ty, teacbableucss ; readinesa to 
 learn. 
 
 2 Fa-cil'-i-ty, ease ; readiness. 
 
 3 Li'-€nEN (ll'-ken), a plant ; rock-moss. 
 * Il-llme»', lights up. 
 ' at'-ti-tOde, position. 
 
 6 Mdx'-i,a, hnre used for Irelaiid. 
 "> Won, obtained. 
 
 8 Re-splen'-dent, brilliant ; shining. 
 
 9 IIkatii'-eb-y {heth'-er-y), abounding ^i>h 
 the plant called heath or heather. 
 
 LESSOIS^ XXV. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^M^Mt-.^ 
 
 THE CUCKOO AND THE SWALLOW. 
 
 1. One mom a cuckoo thus attacked betimes 
 A swallow lately come from warmer climes : 
 "Ah'! Madam Catchfly' !* once again, 
 
 I see, by toil unawed', 
 Your ladyship has cross'd the Main' ! 
 How fare all friends abroad' ?"* 
 
 2. "How goes the world' ?^ come', tell' the news' 
 A little news is pleasant' : 
 How do the folks in Turkey use 
 To speak of birds at present' ?•• 
 
2d Div. OP ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 139 
 
 8. " What say the Georgian maids so pretty 
 About young Nightingale's dull ditty^ ?** 
 
 Do any praise it now' ?" I fancy*not\" 
 " Excuse' meV' said the swallow', " much they praise 
 His plaintive and melodious lays\ 
 
 And call them charming\ and I know not what\" 
 
 4. " Charming' !** that's droll enough^ ; what says 
 
 The world, then, of my Httle friend Tomtit' ?"^ 
 " Some call Inm. foppish in his ways' — 
 But," said the swallow', " much they praise 
 
 His plumage' and his wif.^^ 
 " His wit' l^ that's weir," the cuckoo cried with glee, 
 " And what says all the world of me' ?" 
 
 5. " Of you' !'"* exclaimed the wondering bird — 
 " Of you' !^ — in truth, sir, not a word\" 
 
 " What' \^ never' P'"^ said the cuckoo, " never' l^ 
 Does no one talk of me' ?<^ How' !^— Why ' !"*— 
 That's very strange', indeed', for I 
 
 Talk of myself forever'." 
 
 a See Rule II. b See Rule III. 
 
 c See Rule I. for the reason of this inflection. d See Rule X., Note. 
 
 THE CUCKOO. 
 
 1. The cuckoo is noted for being a shy bird — for being 
 often heard, but seldom seen. This fact is thus alluded to 
 by the poet Wordsworth : 
 
 2. "0 blithe 1tiew-comer^ ! I have heard — 
 
 I hear thee and rejoice. 
 O cuckoo' ! shall I call thee bird', 
 Or but a wandering voice^ ? 
 
 3. *' The same that in my school-boy days 
 
 I listened to — that cry — 
 Which made me look a thousand ways, 
 In bush, and tree, and sky. 
 
 4r. "To see thee did I often rove 
 
 Through woods and on the green ; 
 And thou wert still a hope — a love — 
 Still longed for, never seen. " 
 
140 
 
 WILLSON'S rOTJKTH EEADEB. 
 
 PaetIL 
 
 lY. THE SCRATCHERS OR POULTRY BIRDS 
 {EASORES), 
 
 OFTEN CALLED THE GALLINACEOUS BIRDS. 
 
 LESSON XXVI. 
 
 Scale of Feet. 
 
 1. Peacock, Pavo criatatus. 2. RuflFed Grouse, or Partridge, Tetrao umbelliis. 3. 
 Peacock Pheasant, Polyplectron emphamcm. 4. Pinnated Grouse, Tetrao eiipido. 5. 
 Argua Pheasant, Argus giganteus. 6. Common Guinea-fowl, Numida Meleagris. 7. 
 Turkey, Meleagris gallopdvo. 8. Virginian Quail, Perdix Virginianits. 9. Red Grouse- 
 Ptarmigan, or English Moorfowl, Lagopua Scoticus. 
 
 1. The fourth order of birds embraces that part of the 
 feathered creation which is by far the most useful to man. 
 The common barn-door fowls, the turkey, peacock, and 
 Guinea-fowls ; the many species of pigeons, and the various 
 birds known as game, all fall in this division ; and whether 
 considered as wholesome articles of food, or as adornments to 
 man's abode, they are universally esteemed, and by almost all 
 nations are reared and domesticated^ for their various uses. 
 
 2. As these birds are designed principally for abode upon 
 the ground, they have strong legs and feet ; and the hind toe, 
 so important in perching and grasping, is often wanting, or 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OUmTHOLOGY. 141 
 
 is very short ; the nails also are short, or, when lengthened, 
 always stretch out in a line with the toe. With the excep- 
 tion of the pigeons, the wings of these birds, not being de- 
 signed for flight, are short and rounded, and the body heavy. 
 
 3. This order of birds has been variously divided by mod- 
 ern writers on ornithology into several great families, the 
 most important of which are our common poultry, pheasants, 
 pigeons, and grouse. Our domestic fowls were originally na- 
 tives of Southern Asia, and in a wild state their originals are 
 still found in the forests and jungles^ of India. 
 
 4. It is well known that when the common hen has reared a 
 brood of ducks instead of her natural progeny, and they take 
 to the water, as their instinct teaches them, she is in a perfect 
 agony, runnmg round the brink of the pond, and sometimes 
 flying into it, in hopes of rescuing her brood from the danger 
 she supposes them to be in. Yet this natural antipathy to 
 water may be in a great degree overcome, as the following 
 anecdote shows : 
 
 5. " A hen, which had reared three broods of ducks in three 
 successive years, became habituated to their taking to the 
 water, and would fly to a large stone in the middle of the 
 pond, and patiently and quietly watch her brood as they swam 
 about it. The fourth year she hatched her own eggs, and 
 finding that her chickens did not take to the water as the 
 ducklings had done, she flew to the stone in the pond, and 
 called them to her with the utmost eagerness. This recollec- 
 tion of the habits of her former charge is very curious.'* 
 
 6. In the pheasant family are found the pheasants, the 
 turkeys, the peacocks, and the Guinea-fowls, all birds of large 
 size and magnificent plumage. Pope's description of the dy- 
 ing pheasant has rendered that beautiful bird additionally 
 famous : 
 
 " See ! from the brake the whirring pheasant springs, 
 
 And mounts exulting on triumphant wings : 
 
 Short is his joy ; he feels the fiery wound, 
 
 Flutters in blood, and, panting, beats the ground. 
 "Ah! what avail his glossy varying dyes, 
 
 His purple crest and scarlet-circled eyes ; 
 
 The vivid green his shining plumes unfold, 
 
 His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold ?" — Pope. 
 
142 willson's fourth reader. Part 1L 
 
 7. The following description of the common ring-necked 
 pheasant, by another writer, will give a still better idea of 
 
 ^^ jl- the splendid appearance of the same bird : 
 " Splendid his form : his eyes, of flaming gold, 
 Two fiery rings of living scarlet hold ; 
 His arching neck a varying beauty shows, 
 Now rich with azure, now with emerald glows ; 
 His swelling breast with glossy purple shines, 
 Chestnut his back, and waved with ebon lines ; 
 To his broad wings gay hues their radiance lend, 
 His mail-clad legs two knightly spurs defend." 
 
 8. The pheasants and peacocks are natives of Southern 
 Asia; the turkey was found originally in North America, 
 and the Guinea-fowls in Western Africa ; but all of them are 
 now distributed over the civilized world. The splendor of 
 the peacock attracted the attention of the mariners of King 
 Solomon, who, in their southern expedition, obtained these 
 birds and carried them to their royal master ; and at a period 
 still more ancient, the beauty of this bird was referred to by 
 the patriarch Job, who says, " Gavest thou the goodly wings 
 unto the peacocks ?" 
 
 9. The turkey is still found wild in large numbers in the 
 forests of our Western States, migrating in large flocks in the 
 latter part of autumn. The manner in which it escapes from 
 the attacks of large owls is thus described by C. L. Bona- 
 parte, in his work entitled^ " American Ornithology :" 
 
 10. " These birds are guardians of each other, and the first 
 who sees a hawk or an eagle gives a note of alarm, on which 
 all within hearing lie close to the ground. As they usually 
 roost in flocks, perched on the naked branches of trees, they 
 are easily discovered by the large owls ; but when attacked 
 by these prowling birds, they often escape by a somewhat re- 
 markable manoeuvre. The owl sails around the spot to select 
 his prey ; but, notwithstanding the almost inaudible* action 
 of his pinions, the quick ear of one of the slumberers j^erceives 
 the danger, which is immediately annoimced to the whole 
 party by a chicck.^ 
 
 11. "Thus alarmed, all rise on their legs, and watch the 
 motions of the owl, who, darting like an arrow, would inev- 
 itably secure the individual at which he aimed, did not the 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. OENITHOLOGY. 143 
 
 latter suddenly drop his head, squat, and spread his tail over 
 his back : the owl then glances over, without inflicting any in- 
 jury, at the very instant that the turkey suffers himself to 
 fall headlong toward the earth, where he is secure from his 
 dreaded enemy." 
 
 Scale of Inches. 
 
 1. Bronze-winged Dove of Australia, Columba ckalcoptera. 2. Wild Rock Pigeon, C 
 livia. 3. Crowned Goura Pigeon of Java, C. coronata. 4 Wild or Passenger Pigeon, C. 
 migratoria. 5 and 6, English Ringdove, or Cushat, C. palumbus. 
 
 12. The pigeon or dove family, which unites the characters 
 of the perchers and the poultry birds, has some species in 
 nearly every quarter of the globe ; but it is in the tropical 
 climates of Southern Asia that the varieties — often vying with 
 the parrots in the color of their plumage — are the most nu- 
 merous. In no other country, however, does any one species 
 swarm so abundantly as the wild pigeon in our own. 
 
 13. The celebrated American ornithologists, Wilson and 
 Audubon, have very happily described the migrations of al- 
 most innumerable multitudes of wild pigeons which they saw 
 in our Western country. The passing flocks were at times so 
 large as to obscure the sun for hours together. The roosting- 
 places of these birds presented a curious spectacle. Large 
 trees were continually breaking down by the masses that set- 
 tled on them ; and the birds that were killed by the fall, and 
 by the clubs of the people who gathered around the borders 
 of the woods, literally piled the ground in heaps of thousands. 
 
144 WELLSON'S fourth reader. Pabt II. 
 
 The noise occasioned by the continual flapping of wings was 
 like thunder ; persons could not hear each other speak ; and 
 the report of a gun a rod distant could scarcely be distin- 
 guished in the general uproar. On the departure of the bu'ds, 
 the forests looked as if they had been swept by a tornado. 
 
 14. In addition to the wild pigeon, and the common dove 
 which is famihar to all, and which latter, in a wild state, is 
 known as the wild rock pigeon, there are two other species in 
 this country, one known as the Carolina turtle-dove, and the 
 other as the Southern ground-dove, or ortolan. Our turtle- 
 dove is a favorite bird with all who love to w^ander among 
 our woods in spring, and listen to their varied harmony. Its 
 peculiar mournful moanings, which sound so much like the 
 voice of sorrow, are none other than the love-notes with which 
 it woos its happy mate. The English ringdove, or cushat,® is 
 also noted for its cooing, and plaintive murmuring. 
 
 *' Dear is my little native vale, 
 
 The ringdove builds and warbles there ; 
 Close by my cot she tells her tale 
 To every passing villager." — Rogers. 
 
 15. Another important division of this order of birds is the 
 grouse family, which embraces those large groups of game 
 birds known in familiar language as grouse, partridges, quails, 
 and ptarmigans. The names by which the several species of 
 the grouse family are known vary greatly in different places. 
 The engravings which we have given of several of these birds 
 will convey a better knowledge of them than any description. 
 The pinnated grouse is a very singular bird, peculiar to Amer- 
 ica alone, and is found in pine-barrens and prairie-lands. In 
 New England the quail is often called a partridge; and in 
 Pennsylvania the true partridge (or ruffed grouse) is usually 
 called a pheasant. In early spring-time the partridge makes 
 a loud drumming sound by beating his sides with his wings. 
 This drumming is thus described by an Atnerican poet : 
 
 !(?. " * nearest thou that bird ?' 
 
 I listened, and from 'midst the depth of woods 
 Heard the love signal of the grouse that wears 
 A sable ruff around his mottled neck : 
 Partridge they call him by our northern streams, 
 
2d DiV. OP ZOOLOGY. «^€>KNITHOLOGY, 145 
 
 And pheasant by the Delaware. He beats 
 
 'Gainst his barred sides his speckled wings, and makes 
 
 A sound like distant thunder ; slow the strokes 
 
 At first, then fast and faster, till at length 
 
 They pass into a murmur, and are still." — Bryakt. 
 
 1 no-MEs'-Ti-€A-TED, tamed ; made domes- 3 En-ti'-tlkd, named ; liaving the title o£ 
 tic. * In-au'-di-ble, that can not he heard. 
 
 9 Jun'-gle, land mostly covered with brush- * Chuck, the voice or call of a hen. 
 wood. 6 €08n'-AT (pronounced koosh'-at). 
 
 LESSON XXYII. 
 THE GITY DOVE. 
 
 1. Stoop to my window, thou beautiful dove ! 
 Thy daily visits have touched my love. 
 
 I watch thy coming, and list thy note 
 That stirs so low in thy mellow throat, 
 
 And my joy is high 
 To catch the glance of thy gentle eye. 
 
 2. Why dost thou sit on the heated eaves, 
 
 And forsake the wood with its freshened leaves ? 
 
 Why dost thou haunt the sultry street. 
 
 When the paths of the forest are cool and sweet ? 
 
 How canst thou bear 
 This noise of people — this sultry air ? 
 
 3. Thou alone, of the feathered race. 
 Dost look unscared on the human face ; 
 Thou alone, with a wing to flee. 
 
 Dost love with man in his haunts to be ; 
 
 And the " gentle dove" 
 Has become a name of truth and love. 
 
 4. Come then ever, when daylight leaves 
 The page I read, to my humble eaves, 
 And wash thy breast in the hollow spout. 
 And murmur thy low, sweet music out. 
 
 I hear and see 
 Lessons of wisdom, sweet bird, in thee. 
 
 N. P. Willis. 
 G 
 
146 
 
 willson's foueth header. 
 
 PartIL 
 
 V. THE EUNNEES (CUBSOEES), 
 
 LESSON xxvm. 
 
 Scale of Feet. 
 
 1. Great Bustard, Otis tarda. 2. Trumpeter-bird, Psophia crepitans. 3. African Os- 
 trich, Sti-uthio camelus. 4 Emu of New Holland, Emu dromanis. 5. Cassowary of 
 Asia, Casuarius casoar. 6. Apteryx, Apteryx mantelli. 7. American Ostrich, JRhea 
 Americaiia. 
 
 1. The fifth order of birds consists of the ostrich family, 
 which is composed of long-legged birds of large size, most 
 of them equaling the average height and bulk of the quadru- 
 peds. But few of them are able to raise themselves from the 
 earth by their wings. The principal birds of this order are 
 the African ostrich, the South American ostrich, the casso- 
 wary of Eastern Asia, the emu of New Holland, the apteryx 
 of New Zealand, and the bustards. The forms and compar- 
 ative^ size of these birds will be best learned from the en- 
 graving at the head of this lesson. 
 
 2. The African ostrich, or camel-hird, so called from its 
 striking resemblance to the camel, is from seven to ten feet 
 in height ; and so swift and strong is it, that, with two men 
 
2d DiV. OP ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 147 
 
 mounted on its back, it will outstrip^ an English horse in 
 speed. " What time she lifteth herself on high, she scorneth 
 the horse and his rider." 
 
 "And the fleet-footed ostrich, over the waste, 
 Speeds, like a horseman that travels in haste." 
 
 Its cry so much resembles that of a lion as often to deceive 
 the natives themselves. The long plumes of the wings and 
 tail of the ostrich, Avhich are either perfectly white or black, 
 have long been an important article of commerce, although 
 they are now frequently imitated from the feathers of other 
 birds. 
 
 3. The African ostrich has excited the attention of man- 
 kind from the most remote ages. Its egg, which is a curios- 
 ity in itself, weighs nearly three pounds. The ostrich is fre- 
 quently mentioned in the Book of Job, and in other portions 
 of the Old Testament. " Gavest thou the goodly wings unto 
 the peacock ? or wings and feathers unto the ostrich, which 
 leaveth her eggs in the earth, and warmeth them in the dust, 
 and forgetteth that the foot may crush them, or that the wild 
 beast may break them ?" It is known that, in equatorial re- 
 gions, the ostrich "leaveth her eggs in the earth," to be Warm- 
 ed and hatched by the sun, with Httle or no attention on the 
 part of the mother; but, where the climate ia colder, she 
 hatches them in the usual manner. 
 
 4. The early Greek writers were well acquainted with the 
 history and appearance of the ostrich ; and among the Romans 
 it was frequently exhibited in their games, and the brains »{ 
 hundreds at a time were served up as a delicacy for the table 
 In its native haunts it is a shy bird, wary, restless, and diffi- 
 cult of approach ; but, as an evidence of its dullness, it is saic^ 
 that, when closely pursued, if it can conceal its head in a hol^ 
 or under a bush, it deems itself safe. In confinement 'the os- 
 trich eagerly swallows stones, knives, spoons, and even brokei? 
 glass, without injury. 
 
 5. The nandu, or American ostrich, which is only about 
 half as large as the African bird, and less thickly covered 
 with feathers, has the same propensity^ for swallowing iron, 
 stones, etc., as the ostrich of the East. The cassowary o^ 
 southeastern Asia is nearly as large as the ostrich, which it 
 
148 
 
 WILLSON S FOURTH READER. 
 
 Part U. 
 
 much resembles ; but its legs are thicker and stronger in pro- 
 portion, and its head is covered with a kind of horny helmet, 
 consisting of plates one over another. The emu of New 
 Holland resembles the cassowary in most respects, but dif- 
 fers from it in not having the helmet. The small wings of 
 these birds are of no use in flight, but serve to balance the 
 body in running. 
 
 6. But the most singular of all the birds of this order is 
 the New Zealand apteryx, which has neither Avings nor a tail. 
 Upon its very long and slender beak it sometimes leans in 
 walking, using it as an old man would a cane. It is a noc- 
 turnal bird, feeding on worms, and pursuing its prey on the 
 ground by smell rather than by sight. But this curious 
 creature, which seems the last link in the bird creation, cor- 
 responding to the New Holland mole among quadrupeds, is 
 becoming quite rare in its native clime,* and, doubtless, in a 
 few years the race w^ill be extinct.^ Other birds of the os- 
 trich family have been exterminated^ by human agency"^ with- 
 in a recent period ; and of other species, larger than the os- 
 trich, all we know is what can be learned from their fossil® 
 remains. 
 
 Y. The bustards, which are large birds found only on the 
 Eaatern continent, are, like the ostrich, noted for their pow- 
 ers of running, although some of them will take wing when 
 closely pursued. The great bustard, once numerous in En- 
 gland, is now of very rare occurrence there. The trumpeter- 
 bird, found in South America, has by some been included 
 with the bustards. It receives its name from the pecuhar 
 noise which it makes without opening its bill. When do- 
 mesticated, it shows great fondness and fidelity; and is so 
 regardful of its owner's interests that it attacks dogs and 
 other animals that venture near him. Sometimes it is used 
 to protect domestic poultry from the onsets^ of birds of prey. 
 
 * €om-pab'-a-tTve, estimated by compari- 
 son ; not real. 
 
 2 Out-8teTp', outrun. 
 
 3 Pbo-pen'-8i-ty, natural tendency; dispo- 
 sition. 
 
 4 €i.Tme, climate ; country. 
 
 5 Ex-tTnct', at an end, 
 
 6 Ex-tkrm'-in-.v-ted, destroyed. 
 
 ■J a'-gen-oy, mean.s : efforts ; instrumental- 
 ity. 
 
 8 FOs'-BiL, dug out of the earth ; petrified. 
 
 9 on'-si:t8, attacks. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 149 
 
 YI. THE WADERS {GRALLATORES). 
 LESSOK XXIX. 
 
 Scale of Feu. 
 
 1. Eoseate Spoonbill, Platalea ajaja. 2. Whooping Crane, Ardea Americana. 3. 
 Glossy Ibis, Ibis falcinellus. 4. Red Flamingo, Phoenicopterus ruber. 5. American 
 'Biiiern., Ardea minor. 6. CexeaXllcron, Ardea Uerodias. 7. White Stork, CicoJim ajbo. 
 8. Water Rail, Rallv^ aquaticus. 9. Woodcock, Scolopax m,inor. 10. African Stilt, or 
 Plover, Himantopv^ melanopterus. 11. Common Snipe, Hcolopax gallinago. 
 
 1. We come now to that order of birds known as Wadees, 
 which are distinguished by the great length of their legs, 
 which fits them for wading; and also by their long beaks 
 and necks, which are well adapted for seizing fish and the 
 other aquatic^ animals on which they feed. Their wings are 
 long and powerful, and most of them migrate with the chang- 
 ing seasons. In this order are found the families of herons, 
 spoonbills, ibises, snipes, plovers, and rails ; and by some the 
 flamingo also is placed in this division. 
 
 2. The family of the herons includes not only the herons 
 proper, but also those kindred species, the storks, bitterns, 
 and cranes. The great American heron, which is larger than 
 the common 'heron of Europe, but of similar habits, is a great 
 
loO WILLSON's fourth reader. Tart II. 
 
 destroyer offish, and is usually found by the banks of streams, 
 or along the sides of lakes and their islands, and in the latter 
 parts of autumn and winter by the sea-shore. In the latter 
 situations they take their station as soon as the shoals^ begin 
 to be uncovered by the ebbing^ of the tide ; and, when satia- 
 ted* with feeding, rows of these birds may be seen on some 
 retired sand-bank, their heads sunk between their shoulders, 
 exhibiting a picture of full-fed laziness. 
 
 3. " Far up some brook's still course, whose current streams 
 
 The forest's blacken'd roots, and whose green marge 
 
 Is seldom visited by human foot, 
 
 The lonely heron sits, and harshly breaks 
 
 The Sabbath-silence of the wilderness ; 
 
 And you may find her by some reedy pool, 
 
 Or brooding gloomily on the time-stain'd" rock, 
 
 Beside some misty and far-reaching lake." — M'Lellan. 
 
 4. Although the heron is a wading bird, and usually soli- 
 tary in its habits, yet in the spring-time it congregates^ in 
 flocks, and builds its nest in the tops of lofty trees, selecting 
 for this purpose the gloomy solitudes of vast swamps that are 
 difficult of access. The storks, which are numerous in Eu- 
 rope, often congregating about towns and villages, are a privi- 
 leged bird wherever found, on account of the havoc^ which 
 they make among noxious"^ animals. 
 
 5. The following story is told of a wild stork which was 
 brought by a farmer into his poultry-yard, to be the com- 
 panion of a tame one which he had long kept there. The 
 tame stork, disliking a rival, fell upon the poor stranger, and 
 bent him so unmercifully that he was compelled to seek safety 
 
 inflight. About four months after- 
 ward, however, he returned to the 
 poultry -yard, recovered of his 
 wounds, and attended by three 
 other storks, who no sooner 
 alighted than all four fell upon the 
 lame stork and killed him. 
 
 6. The bittern, which hides by 
 day and feeds by night, builds its 
 nest on the ground, or in low 
 bushes, in sea and river marshes. 
 
2d r>IV. OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 151 
 
 It is mentioned in the Bible as inhabiting desolate places ; 
 and the Lord, in foretelling the destruction of Babylon, says, 
 " I will also make it a possession for the hitterti^ and pools of 
 water." When the American bittern is startled in the day- 
 time by the too near approach of footsteps, it utters a hollow, 
 guttural note; but it has not that loud booming sound for 
 which the European bittern is so remarkable. 
 
 " While, scared by step so near, 
 Uprising from the sedgy brink 
 The lonely bittern's cry will sink 
 
 Upon the startled ear." — Hoffman. 
 
 v. Another bird of the heron family is the American crane, 
 often called the whooping crane^ on account of its loud, pierc- 
 ing cry, which may be heard at the distance of two miles. 
 
 " Vast clang is heard 
 Along the skies, when, from, incessant showers 
 Escaping, and from winter's cold, the cranes 
 Take wing, and over ocean speed away." 
 
 The cranes migrate yearly from South America, and some- 
 times go as far north as the arctic circle; and in their im- 
 mense journeyings they pass at so great a height in the air 
 as to be seldom seen. Yet they are found scattered over all 
 North America. They are extremely shy and vigilant, and 
 it is with the greatest difficulty that they can be shot. 
 
 8. Audubon gives a ludicrous^ account of his fleeing from 
 a crane, whose wing he had broken by a musket shot. After 
 having pursued the wounded bird until it took refuge iii a 
 pile of drift-wood, he says : " As I approached it, panting and 
 almost exhausted, it immediately reared itself to the full 
 stretch of its body, legs, and neck, ruffled its feathers, shook 
 them, and advanced toward me with open bill, and eyes glar- 
 ing with anger. Perhaps it was because I was almost ex- 
 hausted with fatigue ; but I felt unwilling to eacounter my 
 antagonist, and, keeping my eye on him, moved backward. 
 
 9. "The farther I removed, the more he advanced, until at 
 length I turned my back to him, and took to my heels, re- 
 treating with much more speed than I had pursued. He fol- 
 lowed, and I was glad to reach the river, into which I plunged 
 up to the neck, calling out to my boatmen, who came up as 
 
162 willson's FOUETH BEADER. Pakt II. 
 
 fast as they could. The crane 
 stood looking angrily on me 
 all the time, immersed^ up to 
 his belly in the water, and 
 only a few yards distant, now 
 and then making thrusts at 
 "^ — -'- —-—=-- me with his bill. There he 
 
 stood until the people came up, and highly delighted were 
 they with my misfortune — discomfited^^ by a bird ! How- 
 ever, the battle was soon over ; for, on landing, some of them 
 struck the winged warrior on the neck with an oar, and we 
 carried him on board." 
 
 10. The spoonbills — so named on account of the peculiar 
 form of the bill — have many characters in common with the 
 herons, and are usually found associating with them. The 
 ibises — of which the white or sacred ibis of Egypt is the most 
 celebrated — more nearly resemble the storks. Several spe- 
 cies of these birds are found in the United States, chiefly in 
 the southern portions.^ 
 
 11. The snipes, which embrace a large family of birds, 
 known by the common names of woodcocks, marlins, cur- 
 lews, tattlers, stilts, avosets, ruffs, sandlarks, and sandpipers, 
 are noted for the extreme length and slenderness of the beak. 
 These birds frequent marshes, and the banks of lakes and riv- 
 ers, on which they run with great swiftness. Their flesh is 
 held in high esteem. In general form and habits the plovers 
 and rails are nearly allied to the snipes. Many species of the 
 rails, or water-hens, are found in Virginia and the Carolinas. 
 
 12. The flamingo, which has the neck and legs of greater 
 proportionate length than any other bird, often measures six 
 feet from the end of its claws to the tip of its bill. When in 
 full plumage, which is not till the end of the third year, this 
 bird is of a deep scarlet color, except the quills, which are 
 black. The flamingo is abundant in Africa, and in South 
 America and the West India Islands, and has been seen as 
 far north as the neighborhood of Philadelphia. It piles up 
 a hillock of mud, with a cavity^^ at the top, for its nest. 
 
 13. A flock of these birds, seen at a distance 6n the mar 
 gin of a river, appears like a regiment of soldiers in brilliant 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 153 
 
 ifciiform. When they are feeding, one of them stands senti- 
 nel ; and the moment he sounds the alarm, the whole flock 
 take wing. 
 
 *'And see where yonder stalks, ^^ in crimson pride, 
 The tall flamingo by the river's side — 
 Stalks, in his richest plumage bright arrayed, 
 With s^owy neck superb, and legs of length'ning shade." 
 
 Bowles. 
 
 > A-quat'-I€, pertaining to water. 
 
 2 Shoals, shallow places. 
 
 3 kbb'-ing, flowing back ; the reflux. 
 * Sa'-tia-teb, filled ; glutted. 
 
 ^ €6n'-gbe-gates, assembles. 
 6 IIav'-oc, destruction. 
 
 7 N8x'-iorrs, injurious. 
 
 8 Lu'-i)i-«ROus, laughable. 
 
 9 Im-mee8'ed, plunged in ; covered. 
 
 10 Di8-€6m'-fit-ed, defeated ; put to flight. 
 
 11 €av'-i-ty, a hollow. 
 
 12 Stalks, walks with proud step. 
 
 G2 
 
154 
 
 WILLSON S FOURTH KEADEE. 
 
 'art 11= 
 
 YII. THE SWIMMEES {NATATORES). 
 LESSON XXX. 
 
 Scale of Feet. 
 
 1. VsitSigom&ri V^ngmn, Aptenodiftes Patacjonica. 2. Great Auk, ^/carmjOCTims. 3. 
 Vnfhn.^ Alca arciica. 4. Brown Pelican, P^Zecan?/* /«sci*s- 5. Black-backed Gull, La- 
 rua f uncus. .6. Darter, Plotus anhinga. 1. Albatross, Diomeda exulaiis. 8. Little 
 Aukj Alca alle. 9. Crested Grebe, Podiceps cornutus. 10. Great Northern Diver, or 
 Loon, Colipnbtta glacialia. 11. Wild Swan, Cygnus ferus. 
 
 1. The seventh and last order of birds embraces the large 
 class of web-footed or .swimming birds. As these birds move 
 in an element which is every where essentially the same, 
 whether beneath the tropics or beyond the polar circles, we 
 find not only that there are, as among the land birds, partic- 
 ular kinds confined to different portions of the world, but 
 that some species, such as the ducks, the gulls, and the pe- 
 trels, encircle^ the entire globe. 
 
 2. Like the other orders, that of the swimmers also h^s 
 been divided into several families, the several species in each 
 bearing some striking resemblances to each other. Thus the 
 swimmers are divided into the six families of the ducks, 
 divers, auks, petrels, gulls, and pelicans. A common observer 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 155 
 
 might not readily see why they are divided into these partic- 
 ular groups or families, or why additional divisions might 
 not just as well be made — why, for example, ducks, geese, 
 and swans might not form three sepai-ate families as well as 
 one. 
 
 3. But as some grouping into families is essential to a 
 clear description of their forms and habits, the arrangement 
 which is most convenient for this purpose should be adopted. 
 Thus the duck family may be described as those swimming- 
 birds that have thick and broad bills ; and this description 
 will include the various kinds of ducks, geese, and swans. 
 The divers are described as having narrow, straight, and 
 sharp-pointed bills, and as remaining a long time under wa- 
 ter; and this description will ajoply to what are known as 
 divers, grebes, and loons ; and thus are made up the several 
 families into which the swimmers are divided.. Some similar 
 arrangement has been adopted in all the other orders. 
 
 1. White-fronted Wil<l Goose, Anan erythropua. 2. Common Eider Duck, Anas mol- 
 lissima. 3. Green-crested Cormorant, Pelecmius cristatus. 4. Red-throated Diver, Co- 
 lymhus septentrionalis. 5. Common Shoveler-duck, Anas clypeata. 6. Surf-duck, or 
 Scoter, Anas perspicillata. 1. Solan Goose, or Gannet, Pelecanus bassana. 
 
 4. Of all the swimming-birds, the duck family, including 
 ducks, geese, and swans, is the best known, as some species 
 in each division have been domesticated. The vigilant hab- 
 its of wild geese while feeding have been thus described : 
 
 "WHien they go forth to graze, with jealous care 
 They place a watch, which, with keen ear intenf* 
 On coming clanger, sounds its shrill note, 
 And waiTis the ready flock." — Schiller. 
 
 5. The swan, which is a beautiful and majestic bird, has 
 been glorified^ by the bards* of all nations. Milton thus de- 
 scribes it : 
 
156 WILLSON's fourth reader. Part II. 
 
 "The swan, with arched neck 
 Between her white wings mantling^ proudly, rows 
 Her state^ with airy feet ; yet oft they quit 
 The dank, "^ and rising on swift pinions, tower 
 The mid aerial sky." 
 
 According to nearly all the old poets, and some of the mod- 
 erns, the swan pom-s forth its last breath in sublime and en- 
 chanting music. There is a fable that a stork, which listen- 
 ed to the song of a dying swan, told her it was contrary to 
 nature to sing so much out of season, and asked her the rea- 
 son of it. " Why," said the swan, " I am now entering into 
 a state where I shall be no longer in danger of either snares, 
 guns, or hunger ; and who would not rejoice at such a deliv- 
 erance ?" 
 
 6. Among the divers the largest and finest species is the 
 great loon, which is frequently seen on inland lakes in this 
 country, but is seldom shot, as it dives instantaneously at the 
 flash of a gun, and then swims a great distance under water. 
 The cry of the loon, which is melancholy in its tone, resem- 
 bling the howling of the wolf, is said to portend^ rain. 
 
 V. The auks, which have their dreary homes on the frozen 
 coasts and is^inds of the Northern Ocean, but from which 
 they wander hundreds of miles out to sea, have generally 
 small wings ; but these they use as aids in diving and swim- 
 ming. The great auk can not fly at all ; but he chmbs up 
 the rocky cliffs, and is often seen on floating ice. 
 
 8. The puflin is another bird of the auk family ; and in the 
 southern hemisphere the same family, is represented by the 
 penguins, which are very singular-looking birds, having no 
 wings nor proper feathers, but two fins or flippers, like the 
 seal. These birds are found in immense flocks on the south- 
 em islands. On land they hop along in a very awkward 
 manner, but they swim with great swiftness, and are often 
 ceen far out at sea. 
 
 9. The petrels, or fulmars, are eminently birds of the ocean, 
 rarely approaching the land, some of them appearing to be 
 almost constantly on the wing, and following the course of 
 ships for days together without alighting. The common al- 
 batross, which belongs to this family, extends its wings far- 
 
2(1 Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — OKNITHOLOGY. 157 
 
 ther in flying than any other sea-bird known. "When on the 
 wing it is the very ideaP of beauty ; and it sits upon the wa- 
 ter as light and graceful as a swan. 
 
 10. The gulls are a numerous and well-known family, dis- 
 persed over every quarter of the world. The terns or sea- 
 swallows, the skimmer of the seas, and the gray, white, a,nd 
 black-backed gulls, are names by which some of the species 
 are known. The family of the pelicans, which includes the 
 cormorants, darters, frigate birds, the Solan goose or gannet, 
 and the phaetons, closes the list of the sea-birds — and a nu- 
 merous list it is. And what a degree of life they impart to 
 the grand, gloomy, majestic, and otherwise solitary ocean ! 
 
 11. And how strictly in accordance with the wild and 
 gloomy grandeur of the scene are the habits of these birds, 
 and the hardy Uves they lead ! 
 
 "Watchful and agile," uttering voices wild 
 And harsh, yet in accordance with the waves 
 Upon the beach, the winds in caverns moaning, 
 Or winds and waves abroad upon the water. 
 Some seek their food among the finny shoals, 
 Swift darting from the clouds, emerging soon 
 With slender captives glittering in their beaks ; 
 These in recesses of steep crags construct 
 Their eyries^ ^ inaccessible, and train 
 Their hardy broods to forage^ ^ in all weathers." 
 
 12. How cheering the presence of these birds is to the 
 weary mariner, none but those who " go down upon the sea 
 in ships" can tell. But in an economical relation, also, this 
 order of birds is of considerable importance. To it we owe 
 all our domesticated breeds of geese, ducks, etc. ; from it 
 our finest feathers and downs, employed as articles of lux- 
 ury, or by the fair sex as dresses and adornments of orna- 
 mental comfort, are derived ; and among northern nations the 
 collection of the eggs and young of many wild species is an 
 object of regular employment and commerce. 
 
 13. We have thus given a very brief account of the swim- 
 ming-birds. In the preceding orders — in the birds of prey, the 
 perchers, the climbers, the scratchers, the runners, the waders 
 — we are constantly reminded of benevolent design in the 
 wisdom which has created and arranged them, each in its 
 
158 WLLLSON'S FOURTH READER. Paet II. 
 
 proper sphere, and all in beautiful harmony : and here again 
 we find the same beautiful adaptation ui the powers, instincts, 
 and habits of these water-birds to the places they are design- 
 ed to fill in the great chain of animated nature. 
 
 14. The swimmers are a large class of birds, and wide is 
 the range which has been assigned them ; for they not only 
 throng^s on the line of the ocean, and frequent every bay and 
 headland of its winding shores in every quarter of the globe, 
 but wherever, in their lofty flights, the surface of an inland 
 lake or river meets their view, remote from the dwellings of 
 man, there also some of them cluster at certain seasons, either 
 to feed, or to rear their young. Theirs are the wild solitudes 
 of Nature — the ocean, the sandy coast, the solitary lake ; and 
 when driven from these for repose at night or shelter from 
 the storm, rocky isles far in the ocean's void,^* and rocky 
 shores difficult of access, are their resting-places. 
 
 15. While the waders have thin bodies, that they may 
 make their way the more easily through the rank water- 
 grass of the marshes which they frequent, those of the swim- 
 mers are broad and flat, to enable them the better to float on 
 the surface of the water. The plumage of the swimming- 
 birds is also remarkably thick and close, especially on the un- 
 der parts of the body ; the skin is covered with a dense' ^ 
 coat of soft down ; and the outer surface is polished and oily, 
 thus eflectually protecting their bodies from the water, while 
 the feathers of all land-birds, on the contrary, are quickly sat- 
 urated'6 by it. The air is, indeed, made the common element 
 of both classes ; but the one is so formed as best to obtain its 
 support on the water, the other on the land : each element 
 furnishes the food appropriate '"^ for its own tenants ;'s and 
 thus every part of nature teems'^ with happy, joyous Hfe. 
 
 • 1 En-oik'clk, surround. I ' i kv'-rifis (d'-res), places where birds of 
 
 3 In-tent', listening with watchful anxiety, prey build their nests and hatch. 
 3 Gl5'-ei-fied, honored ; dignified. 12 FoR'-A<"iK, go forth to collect their food. 
 
 * B.\ED«, poets, 1 13 Throng, are abundant. 
 
 5 Man'-tling, spreading (referring to the 1* Void, empty space, 
 wings). '* Densk, close; thick. 
 
 6 '■'• Hku state " her dignity; dignified self. ^^ Sat'-u-ra-ted, completely filled. 
 ■' Dank, moist ; here used for the water. i'' Ap-prO'-psi-ate, suitable. 
 
 s Por-tend', foreshow; indicate. '^ Ten'-ants, inhabitants. 
 
 9 i-dR'-al, model of perfection. i' Tkems, abounds. 
 
 '0 A(i'-iLE, quick in motion ; active. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 159 
 
 LESSON XXXI. 
 
 THE HARMONY OF NATURE. 
 
 " The ■wood, the mountain, and the barren waste, the craggy rock, the river, and the 
 lake, are never searched in vain ; each has its peculiar inhabitants, that enliven the 
 scene and please the philosophic eye." — Montague. 
 
 1. In full accordance with the sentiments of the author we 
 have quoted above, we have often wandered in the recesses of 
 our woods and the passes of far-stretching and craggy mount- 
 ains, searched around our wild or beautiful lakes and our pre- 
 cipitous sea-coasts, and we have never been disappointed. 
 
 2. If we did not always meet with some species new to 
 our collection, we found fresh facts to record of those we al- 
 ready possessed ; and we delighted in the landscape enliven- 
 ed by the airy creatures whose structure we had been exam- 
 ining, and whose habits we could there survey so freely. 
 What would be the landscape without its living inhabitants ? 
 The luxuriance of vegetation, varying with beautiful flowers 
 and rich foliage, has indeed charms quiet and seducing, but 
 not such as fully satisfy the mind. 
 
 3. In the depth of the forest, or on the mountain's top, ere 
 break of day had awakened their various tenants, and in some 
 of our beautiful mornings of mid-year, we have seen how 
 deeply tinted seemed the green of the foliage, and how chaste 
 and blended were the tints on the nearly barren rock ; how 
 lovely the sylvan flowers appeared, showing their freshest 
 blossoms amid the soft and matted growth beneath, and how 
 exquisite the structure of the moss or lichen within our reach; 
 how calm, clear, and serene the air, how deep the shadows ; 
 but how complete the quiet, how still the silence ! 
 
 4. There is something in the gradual change from darkness 
 to daylight in places such as these, which, while it is pleasing 
 and agreeable to witness, leaves a deep and impressive feel- 
 ing as of something wanting, not to be dispelled by the rich- 
 est or most attractive vegetation. Soon, however, the still- 
 ness is broken, the various creatures go to their usual occu- 
 pations, the scene is at once enlivened, the void is fiHed, antl 
 the harmony of Nature is complete. Sir Wm. Jardine. 
 
160 
 
 willson's foueth reader. 
 
 Part K. 
 
 .:5=s^ 
 
 LESSOl^ XXXII. 
 
 BIRDS OF THE SEA. 
 Birds of the sea, they rejoice in 
 
 storms ; 
 On the top of the waves you may 
 i see their forms ; 
 
 They run and dive, and they whirl and fly, 
 Where the glittering foam-spray breaks on high ; 
 And against the force of the strongest gale, 
 Like phantom^ ships, they soar and sail. Paek Benjamin. 
 
 2. High o'er the restless deep, above the reach 
 
 Of gunner's hopes, vast flocks of wild ducks stretch ;^ 
 Far as the eye can glance on either side. 
 In a broad space and level line they glide ; 
 All in their wedge-like figures from the north, 
 Day after day, flight after flight, go forth. 
 
 3. In-shore their passage tribes of seagulls urge,' 
 And drop for prey within the sweeping surge ; 
 Oft in the rough opposing blast they fly 
 Far back, then turn, and all their force apply. 
 While to the storm they give their weak complaining cry, 
 Or clap the sleek white pinion to the breast. 
 And in the restless ocean dip for rest. Crabp.e. 
 
 Phan'-tom, unreal ; 
 auce onlv. 
 
 existing in appear-'2 Ptrktoo, sail away in long linen. 
 P Uu.E, push their way. 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. — OENITHOLOGY. 
 
 161 
 
 LESSON xxxm. 
 
 THE STORMY PETREL {Procellaria Pelagica). VvcA-^>juv- 
 
 1. This is the bird that sweeps over the sea — ?i»iJvO«? 
 Fearless, and rapid, and strong is he ; 
 
 He never forsakes the billowy roar 
 To dwell in calm on the tranquil shore, 
 Save when his mate, from the tempeit's shocks, 
 Protects her young in the splintered rocks. 
 
 2. Up and down ! up and down ! 
 
 From the base of the wave to the billow's crown, 
 
 And amidst the flashing and feathery foam, 
 
 The Stormy Petrel finds a home — 
 
 A home, if such a place may be. 
 
 For her who lives on the wide, wide sea, 
 
 On the craggy ice, in the frozen air. 
 
 And only seeketh her rocky lair^ 
 
 To warm her young, and teach them to spring 
 
 At once o'er the waves on their stormy wing ! 
 
 3. All over the ocean, far from land, 
 
 Where the storm-king rises, dark and grand, 
 
162 WILLSOn's fourth READEIt. Part II. 
 
 The mariner^ sees the Petrel meet 
 The fathomless^ waves with steady feet, 
 And a tireless wing, and a dauntless^ breast, 
 Without a home or a hope of rest. 
 
 4. O'er the deep ! o'er the deep ! 
 
 Where the whale, and the shark, and the swordfish sleep : 
 
 Outflying the blast and the driving rain. 
 
 The Petrel telleth her tale — in vain ; 
 
 For the mariner curseth the warning bird. 
 
 Which bringeth him news of the storm unheard ! 
 
 Ah ! thus does the prophet of good or ill 
 
 Meet hate from the creatures he serveth still : 
 
 Yet he never falters : so. Petrel, spring 
 
 Once more o'er the waves on thy stormy wing ! 
 
 5. So, 'mid the contest and toil of life. 
 
 My soul, when the billows of rage and strife 
 Are tossing high, and the heavenly blue 
 Is shrouded^ by vapors of sombre^ hue — 
 Like the Petrel, wheeling o'er foam and spray, 
 Onward and upward pursue thy way ! 
 
 1 Laib, resting-place. 1* Daunt'-less, bold ; fearless. 
 
 2 Mae'-i-nee, seaman ; a sailor. P Shboud'-ed, covered ; concealed. 
 
 3 Fath'-om-less, the depth of which can not 6 S6m'-bee, dull; cloudy; gloomy, 
 be measured. I 
 
 Note. — The first, third, and fifth verses of the foregoing are by Park Benjamin, and 
 the second and fourth by B.^. Proctor. The several changes in rmetre render it a diffi- 
 cult but useful reading exercise. 
 
 LESSON XXXIV. 
 TO A WATER-FOWL. 
 Whithek, midst falling dew, 
 While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
 Far, through the rosy depths, dost thou pursue 
 Thy solitary way ? 
 
 Vainly the fowler's^ eye 
 Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, 
 As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, 
 
 Thy figure floats along. 
 
2d Div. OF ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 163 
 
 3. Seek'st thou the plashy^ brink 
 
 Of weedy lake, or marge^ of river wide, •► 
 
 Or where the rocky billows rise and sink 
 On the chafed* ocean's side ? 
 
 4. There is a Power whose care 
 Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — 
 The desert and illimitable^ air — 
 
 Lone wandering, but not lost. 
 
 5. All day thy wings have fanned. 
 
 At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere ; 
 Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 
 Though the dark night is near. 
 
 6. And soon that toil shall end ; 
 
 Soon shalt thou find a summer, home, and rest. 
 And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend 
 Soon o'er thy sheltered nest. 
 
 7. Thou'rt gone ! the abyss^ of heaven 
 Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart 
 Deeply has sunk the lesson thou hast given. 
 
 And shall not goon depart. 
 
 8. He who, from zone to zone. 
 
 Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
 In the long way that I must tread alone 
 
 Will lead my steps aright. Bryant. 
 
 1 Fowl'-ee, one who hunts wild fowls. 1* Chafed, worn by the waves. 
 
 2 I'LAsn'-Y, watery. 5 Il-l,!m'-it-a-ble, boundless, 
 ' MiBGE, for margin. 1^ A-byss', boundless space. 
 
 BIRDS OF PASSAGE BY NIGHT. 
 
 I hear the beat of their pinions fleet, 
 As from the land of snow and sleet 
 
 They seek a south^-n sea : 
 I hear the cry of their voices high. 
 Falling dreamily through the sky. 
 
 But their forms I can not see. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
1C4 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH EEADEB. 
 
 Fakt II. 
 
 LESSON XXXV. 
 
 WHAT IS THAT, MOTHER? 
 
 1 . " What is that, mother ?'' 
 
 "Thelark, my child; 
 The morn has but just looked out and smiled, 
 When he starts from his humble, grassy nest, 
 And is up and away, with the dew on his breast. 
 And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure, bright sphere, 
 To warble it out in his Maker's ear. 
 Ever, my child, be thy morn's first lays 
 Tuned, like the lark's, to thy Maker's praise." 
 
 2. " What is that, mother ?" 
 
 " The dove, my son ; 
 And that low, sweet voice, like the widow's moan, 
 Is flowing out from her gentle breast. 
 Constant and pure, by that lonely nest. 
 As the wave is poured from some crystal urn. 
 For her distant dear one's quick return. 
 Ever, my son, be thou like the dove ; 
 In friendship as faithful, as constant in love." 
 
 3. " What is that, mother ?" 
 
 ^^^r^- '^ "The eagle, my boy. 
 
 Proudly careering ys course of joy ; 
 Firm, in his own mountain vigor relying ; 
 Breasting the dark storm ; the red bolt defying : 
 His wing on the wind, and his eye on the sun. 
 He swerves not a hair, but bears onward, right on. 
 
2d Div. OF ...... . ZOOLOGY. — ORNITHOLOGY. 165 
 
 Boy, may the eagle's flight ever be thine, 
 Onward, and upward, and true to the line." 
 
 4. " What is that, mother ?" 
 
 " The swan, my love. 
 He is floating down from his native grove ; 
 No loved one now, no nestling nigh ; 
 He is floating down, by himself, to die. 
 Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings ; 
 Yet his sweetest song is the last he sings. 
 Live so, my love, that when death shall come, 
 Swanlike and sweet it may waft thee home." 
 
 DOANB. 
 
 LESSON XXXVI. 
 THE BIRDS OF HEAVEN. ' 
 
 1. Hark to Nature's lesson, given 
 By the blessed birds of heaven^ ! 
 Every bush and tufted tree 
 Warbles sweet philosophy : 
 
 " Mortal', fly from doubt and sorrow^ ; 
 God provideth for the morrow. 
 
 2. " Say\ have kings more wholesome fare 
 Than we, poor citizens of air' ? 
 
 Barns nor hoarded grain have we, 
 Yet we carol merrily. 
 Mortal', fly from doubt and sorrow ; 
 God provideth for the morrow. 
 
 8. " One there lives, who. Lord of all, 
 Keeps our feathers lest they fair : 
 Pass we blithely, then, the time, 
 Fearless of the snare and lime. 
 Free from doubt and faithless sorrow : 
 God provideth for the morrow." 
 
 Bishop Heber. 
 
166 
 
 willson's foueth reader. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 XXXVII. QUESTIONS TO THE BIRDS, AND THEIR ANSWERS. 
 
 1. THE EAGLE. 
 
 Aet thou the king of birds, proud eagle' ? Say^ ! 
 " I am^ ; my talons and my beak bear sway^ ; 
 A greater king than I if thou wouldst be', 
 -; f^' Govern thy tongue, but let thy thoughts be free." 
 
 2. VULTURES. 
 
 Abominable harpiesM^ spare the deadM 
 "We only clear the field which man has spread ; 
 On which should Heaven its hottest vengeance rain^ ? 
 j^^i"-^** You slay the living — we but strip the slain." 
 
 3. THE OWL. 
 
 Blear-eyed,2 strange-voiced, sharp-beaked, ill- 
 omened fowl', 
 What art thou^ ? "What I ought to l^e — an owl ; 
 But if I'm such a scarecrow^ in your eye. 
 You're a much greater fright in mine — good-by !" 
 
 4. THE SWALLOW. [wing^ ? 
 
 ~ Swallow', why homeward turned thy joyful 
 " In a far land I heard the voice of Spring ; 
 I found myself that moment on the way ; 
 My wings, my wings, they had not power to stay." 
 
 5. THE CANAET. 
 
 Dost thou not languish* for thy father- 
 land',. 
 Madeira's fragrant woods and billowy strand' ?^ 
 " My cage is father-land enough for me ; 
 Your parlor all the world — sky, earth, and sea." 
 
 ^"^^Ijtt^ 6- THE HUMMING-BIED. 
 
 3|f/^ ^^' ^ Art thou a bird', or bee', or butterfly^? 
 ^f " Each, and all three. A bird in shape am I ; 
 
 A bee, collecting sweets from bloom to bloom ; 
 / A butterfly in brilliancy of plume." 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 
 
 167 
 
 7. THE WOODPECKER. 
 
 ^J^^^ Rap, rap — rap, rap — I hear thy knocking bill, 
 Then thy strange outcry, when the woods are still. 
 " Thus am I ever laboring for my bread. 
 And thus give thanks to find my table spread." 
 
 8. THE PARROT. 
 
 Parrot', why hast thou learned by rote^ to speak 
 Words without meaning through thy uncouth beak^ ? 
 " Words have I learned' ? and without meaning too' ? 
 N"o wonder, sir — for I was taught by y6u\" 
 
 y 9. CHANTICLEER. [cOUnt^? 
 
 :^ ~- " Who taught thee, Chanticleer, the time to 
 '' Learn from my voice Time's worth and its amount. 
 Long before wheels and bells had learned to chime,"' 
 I told the steps unseen, unheard, of Time." 
 
 10. THE PHEASANT. ^^^^^. . 
 
 Pheasant', forsake the country^ come to 
 I'll warrant thee a place beneath the crown. 
 '' No ; not to roost upon the throne, would I 
 Renounce the woods, the mountains, and the sky." 
 
 V I 11. THE STORK. r^^^^r 9 
 
 ?t^^!c Stork', why were human virtues given to 
 That human beings might resemble me : 
 Kind to my ofispring, to my partner true, 
 And duteous to my parents — what are you ?" 
 
 12. ROBIN AND SPARROW. 
 
 ;^ Familiar warbler', wherefore art thou come^ ? 
 sing to thee when all beside are dumb ; 
 Pray let the little children drop a crumb." 
 Sparrow', the gun is leveled f quit that wall ! 
 " Without the will of Heaven I can not fall." 
 
 James Montgomery. 
 
 1 Hau'-pib$, plunderers. 
 
 2 Bleae'-etet), dim-sighted. 
 
 3 S€ABE'-f ROW, a frightful thing. 
 
 * Lan'-guish, pine ; lose animation. 
 
 j5 Strand, shore of the ocean. [meaning, 
 'e Rote, repetition without attending to the 
 h CniME, agree; harmonize. 
 !» Lev'-eled, aimed. 
 
168 
 
 willson's foueth keadee. 
 
 P.VRT II. 
 
 LESsoi^ xxxvm. 
 
 A SOUTH SEA ROOKERY (moerell). 
 
 1. A ROOKEEY IS a 
 
 temporary encampment 
 of oceanic^ birds, for the 
 purpose of bringing forth 
 their young ; and they unite in immense numbers, and with 
 great industry, to construct it. When a sufficient number of 
 penguins, albatrosses, etc., are assembled on the shore, they 
 appear to hold a deliberate consultation, and then proceed to 
 the execution of the grand purpose for which they left their 
 favorite element. 
 
 2. In the first place, they carefully select a level piece of 
 ground, of suitable extent, and as near the water as practica- 
 ble, always preferring that which is the least encumbered^ 
 with stones and other hard substances, with which it would 
 be dangerous to have their eggs come in contact. As soon 
 
2d DiV. OF ZOOLOGY. ORNITHOLOGY. 169 
 
 as they are satisfied on this point, they proceed to lay out the 
 plan of their projected^ encampment, which task they com- 
 mence by .tracing a well-defined parallelogram,* of sufficient 
 magnitude to accommodate the whole fraternity, and often 
 containing several acres. 
 
 3. One side of this encampment runs parallel with the wa- 
 ter's edge, and is always left open ; the other three sides are 
 differently arranged. These industrious feathered laborers 
 next proceed to clear all the ground within the limits from 
 obstructions of every kind, picking up the stones in their 
 bills, and carefully depositing them outside of the lines, until 
 they sometimes, by this means, create quite a wall on three 
 sides of the rookery. 
 
 4. Within this range of stones and rubbish they form a 
 pathway six or eight feet in width, and as smooth as any of 
 the paved or graveled walks in the New York Park or on 
 the Battery. This path is for a general promenade^ by day, 
 and for the sentinel to patroP by night. 
 
 5. Having thus finished their little works of defense on the 
 three land sides, they next lay out the whole encampment in 
 little squares of equal size, forming narrow paths, which cross 
 each other at right angles, and which are also very smooth. 
 At each intersection"^ of these paths an albatross constructs 
 her nest, while in the centre of each little square is a pen- 
 guin's nest; so that each albatross is surrounded by four 
 penguins, and each penguin has an albatross for its neighbor 
 in four directions. 
 
 6. In this regular manner is the whole space occupied by 
 these feathered sojourners of different species — leaving, at 
 convenient distances, accommodations for some other kinds 
 of oceanic birds, such as the shag, or the green cormorant, 
 and another which the seamen call Nelly. Although the 
 penguin and the albatross are on such intimate terms, and ap- 
 pear to be so affectionately and sincerely attached to each 
 other, they not only form their nests in a very different man- 
 ner, but the penguin will even rob her friend's nest whenever 
 she has an opportunity. 
 
 7. The penguin's nest is merely a slight excavation® in the 
 earth, just deep enough to prevent her single q^^ from roll- 
 
 H 
 
170 wiixson's fourth EEADEB. Part IL 
 
 ing away; while the albatross throws up a little mound of 
 earth, grass, and shells, eight or ten inches high, and about 
 the size of a water-bucket, on the summit of which she forms 
 her nest, and thus looks down upon her nearest neighbors 
 and best friends. 
 
 8. None of the nests of these rookeries are ever left unoc- 
 cupied for a single moment until the eggs are hatched and 
 the young ones old enough to take care of themselves, for 
 the females are so ambitious of producing a large family, that 
 they rob each other whenever they have an opportunity. 
 
 9. The royal penguin is commonly foremost in felonies^ of 
 this description, and never neglects an opportunity of robbing 
 her neighbor. Indeed, it often happens that, when the period 
 of incubation is terminated, the young brood will consist of 
 three or four different kinds of birds in one nest. This is 
 strong circumstantial evidence that the parent bird is no 
 more honest than her neighbors. 
 
 10. To stand at a distance, and observe the birds in these 
 rookeries, is not only amusing, but edifying^^ and affecting. 
 The spectacle is truly worthy the contemplation^i of a philo- 
 sophic mind. You w^ill see them marching round the en- 
 campment in the outside path, or public promenade, in pairs, 
 or in parties of four, six, or eight, forcibly reminding you of 
 officers and soldiers on a parade -day. At the same time, 
 the camp or rookery is in continual motion, some penguins 
 passing through the different paths or alleys on their return 
 from an aquatic excursion, eager to caress their mates after a 
 temporary absence, while the latter are passing out, in their 
 turn, in quest of refreshment and recreation. 
 
 11. At the same time the air is almost darkened with an 
 immense number of the albatrosses hovering over the rook- 
 ery like a dense cloud, some continually lightin?: and meet- 
 ing their companions, while others are constantly rising and 
 shaping their course toward the sea. 
 
 ' 0-ce-an'-i€ (o-s^-zln'-zi), pertaining to 
 tho occnn, or {jroat pea. 
 
 2 ION-<f m'-uerep, fillcfl up ; obstructed. 
 
 3 Pbo-.tkct'-et), devised ; deteiinined upon. 
 - Tar^al-t^kl'-o-ouam, a four-nldcd | , 
 
 flpruro of more length than breadth. ' ' 
 
 5 I^bom-e-nade', a place for walking. 
 
 6 Pa-tr^-l', to march about, and observe 
 •what passes. 
 
 7 In-tfjj-8k€'-tion, crossing. 
 
 8 Ex-rA-VA'-TiON, hollow. 
 
 9 FKT/-0-TSIE3, thefts ; stealing. 
 
 10 f:i)'-t-F?-iN«, instructive. 
 
 '1 €oN-TKM-rT,A'-TioN, meditation ; study. 
 
1st DlV. OP . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OK BOTAJJY. 
 
 171 
 
 PAET III. 
 
 FIRST DIVISION OF VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, 
 OR BOTANY * 
 
 (this subject is continued in the fitth reader.) 
 
 LESSON I. 
 THE VEGETABLE KINGDOM. 
 1. The first notice we have of that part of the world around 
 us which bears the name of the vegetable kingdom, is in the 
 first chapter of the Bible, where we are told that on the third 
 day of the creation God said, " Let the earth bring forth 
 grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit 
 after his kind, whose seed is in itself upon the earth." 
 
 * The science of BOTANY, so called from the Greek word hofane (poravri)^ a plant, 
 has been divided by botanists into three parts : Ist. f )kganograpiiy, which treats of the 
 structure or anatomy of plants ; 2d. Vegetabt.e T^nYsiOT^OGY, which treats of the func- 
 tions of their several parts — the way a plant lives and grows, etc. ; and, 3d. Desokiptivk 
 Botany, which treats of the classification of plants, their geographical distribution, and 
 the general characteristics of the most important vegetable productions. 
 
172 willson's fourth reader. Pabt III. 
 
 2. At the command of the Almighty the mysteries of vege- 
 table life began to start into being ; shrubs and flowers adorn- 
 ed the fields, lofty trees waved in the forests, and herbs and 
 grasses covered the ground with verdure/^ It was only after 
 the earth had thus been robed in beauty that it brought forth 
 abimdantly " cattle and creeping things," and " every living 
 creature after its kind." Thus vegetables rank first in order 
 in the scale of creation. Being designed for the support of 
 animal life, they are universally diffused^ over our globe — 
 throughout the extremes of heat and cold — even in the wa- 
 ters of the sea as well as on the land. 
 
 3. Wherever the eye is directed it encounters an infinite 
 multitude of the most dissimilar forms of vegetation. Some 
 are cast ashore by the waters of the sea in the shape of leath- 
 ery straps or thongs, or are collected in ocean meadows of 
 vast extent ; others crawl out of the crevices of dank^ and 
 loathsome mines, where the light of day never penetrates ; 
 in rivers and tranquil waters are found living threads of 
 green; mud throws up its jelly-like scum ; filthy dregs of all 
 kinds bring forth their living brood of microscopic* plants ; 
 corn crops change to fetid^ soot ; rust and mildew blight our 
 grains ; and all matter in decay is seen to teem^ with mouldy 
 life. All these forms belong to the lower orders of the vege- 
 table world. 
 
 4. If we rise higher in the scale, this never-ending diversity 
 opens a world of beauty to our view. The bark of ancient 
 trees is covered Avith velvet ; their branches are himg with a 
 gray-beard tapestry;''' and grandeur and gloom overspread 
 the forest world. The scene changes in the more open land- 
 scape. There heaths and moors wave with a tough and wiry 
 herbage ; meadows are clothed with an emerald^ mantle, 
 amid which spring up flowers 'of all hues and forms ; bushes 
 throw abroad their many-fashioned foliage, and twining vines 
 scramble over and choke them. 
 
 5. The individual forms of vegetation also change at every 
 step. With every altered condition and circumstance new 
 plants start up. The mountain side has its o^vn races of vege- 
 table inhabitants, and tlie valleys have theirs ; the tribes of 
 the sand, the granite, and the limestone are all different ; and 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 
 
 173 
 
 the Sim does not shine upon two degrees on the surface of 
 this globe, the vegetation of which is identical,^ for every lati- 
 tude has a flora^o of its own. In short, the forms of seas, 
 lakes, and rivers, islands and peninsulas, hills, valleys, plains, 
 and mountains, are not so infinitely diversified^^ as the vege- 
 tation which adorns them. 
 
 6. In all ages of the world, flowers, the crowning glory of 
 plants, have been especially regarded as things of beauty, and 
 emblems of innocence and virtue. Many of the finest poet- 
 ical images in all languages are drawn from them. Our 
 Lord alludes to the " lilies of the field," to convince his people 
 of God's care for them. He says, " Consider the lilies of the 
 field, how they grow : they toil not, neither do they spin ; 
 and yet I say unto you that Solomon, in all his glory, Avas not 
 arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the * 
 grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into 
 the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little 
 faith?" 
 
 v. That eminent American botanist. Professor Gray, in 
 quoting this passage, remarks, " When Christ himself directs 
 us to consider with attention the plants around us — to notice 
 how they grow — how varied, how numerous, and how ele- 
 gant they are, and with what exquisite skill they are fashion- 
 ed and adorned, we shall surely find it profitable and pleasant 
 to learn the lessons which they teach." 
 
 8. * * Thou wert not, Solomon ! in all thy glory, 
 Arrayed, the lilies cry, in robes like ours ; 
 How vain your grandeur! Ah ! how transitorv^^ 
 Are human flowers !" — Horace Smith. 
 
 "Whate'er man finds 
 Of flavor or of scent in fruit or flower. 
 Or what he views of beautiful or grand 
 In nature, from the broad majestic oak 
 To the green blade that twinkles in the sun, 
 Prompts^^ with remembrance of a present God." — Cowper. 
 
 1 VEBD'-rEK, greenness ; vegetation. 
 
 2 Dif-fC#ed', spread abroad. 
 
 3 Dank, damp ; moist. 
 
 * MT-f-EO-scov'-if, very small. 
 5 Fet'-id, rank ; offensive to the smell. 
 
 • Tkem, abound. 
 ' Tap'-es-try, woven hangings for walls. 
 
 8 iCM'-E-RAtD, bright green. 
 
 9 i-I)kn'-ti-€al, tlie same ; not diflfcrent. 
 
 10 Flo'-ka, a collection of trees and phuifs 
 of a particular country. 
 
 11 Di-vek'-si-fied, varied. 
 
 12 Tran'-si-to-ry, passing away quickly. 
 
 13 Prompts, suggests; remind?. 
 
174 
 
 WrLLSON S FOURTH READER. 
 
 Part in. 
 
 LESSON 11. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY VIEW OF BOTANY. 
 Fig. 1. 
 
 -^ 
 
 Oak. 
 
 Fir-trees, 
 roplar. 
 
 Morning-glory. 
 
 EX-0(i'-EN-OUS PLANTS. 
 
 WiUow. 
 
 Date-palm. Banana. 
 
 False Sago Palm (Cycas). 
 
 Indian Com. 
 
 EN-D06'-EN-0US PLANTS. 
 
 1. "How can children gain a knowledge of botany^? 
 Can not the difficulties which are said to . accompany the 
 study of this branch of science be, by some little contrivance, 
 either removed altogether or very much diminished' ? Al- 
 low me, in answer to this question, to repeat a fable which I 
 remember to have read in some French author. 
 
 2. " A lady, observing some ants traveling across a table, 
 dropped a lump of sugar in the midst of them ; but, to her 
 surprise, although ants are noted sugar-eaters, they all re- 
 treated in terror from the spot, nor could any of them after- 
 ward find courage to return to examine the object of their 
 dread ; on the contrary, they chose another track, and care- 
 fully avoided that which would have proved a treasure had 
 they known its value. 
 
I 
 
 1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 175 
 
 3. " Struck by this occurrence, the lady placed the same 
 piece of sugar on a part of the table near which the ants were 
 in the habit of crossing, and, when she saw one of them ap- 
 proaching it, she gently placed her finger in his way, so as to 
 obstruct his passage without alarming him. The ant paused, 
 looked around him, and then took a new direction, not ex- 
 actly toward the sugar, but near it. 
 
 4. "The lady again opposed his passage gently, and at 
 last, by making him take a sort of zigzag^ direction, as it 
 were, at every few steps, the ant was unconsciously^ brought, 
 to the sugar without being frightened. Once there, he ex- 
 amined the glittering rock attentively, touched it cautiously, 
 broke off a morsel, and hastened away with it to the ant-hill, 
 whence he presently returned at the head of a host of his 
 comrades, by whom the rest of the sugar was quickly car- 
 ried off. 
 
 5. "So it is with the science of Botany, and the young 
 who have to acquire a knowledge of it. Let them be once 
 alarmed at the aspect^ of their new pursuit, and it is almost 
 impossible to restore their confidence ; but there are few who, 
 if led to it insensibly, will not persevere until they have made 
 themselves masters of the subject." 
 
 6. Such are the remarks by which an eminent English bot- 
 anist. Dr. Lindley, introduces one of his valuable works to the 
 beginner in botanical studies. Like him, we would imitate 
 the discretion of the lady in the fable ; and, as we would not 
 wish to frighten our youthful readers at the outset, we shall 
 not build up a hedge of technical* terms for them to climb 
 over before they can enter the field to which we invite them. 
 
 1. At the beginning of this lesson we have given an en- 
 graving of an oak-tree, the pride of American forests, and a ' 
 date-palm, a native of tropical climes, each surrounded by its 
 kindred species of vegetation. The contrast^ of the widely- 
 different forms of the oak and the palm, and of the seeds 
 from which they sprung, shall serve as the basis on which to 
 construct our first lesson in botany, and for pointing out the 
 two great divisions of the vegetable world. In the following 
 language Mrs. Howitt has very prettily described the " sprout- 
 ing oak-tree :" 
 
176 willson's foijeth eeadee. Part m. 
 
 "The oak-tree was an acorn once, that fell upon the earth; 
 And sun and showers nourished it, and gave the oak-tree birth ; 
 The little sprouting oak-tree ! two leaves it had at first, 
 Till sun and showers nourished it, then out the branches burst." 
 
 8. The oak-tree and the date-palm, different as they are in 
 structure and appearance, are not more unlike than the acorn 
 and the date seed. The most careless observer must have 
 noticed the difference between a bean or pea and a kernel of 
 wheat or corn, as well as in the leaves and stems of the plants 
 themselves. Acorns, beans, and peas are easily split or di- 
 vided into their two lobes f while the date seeds and grains 
 of wheat and corn seem to consist of a single mass, whicli is 
 with more difficulty split or broken. 
 
 9. The more careful observer has noticed that the stem, 
 leaves, and external covering of plants growing from two- 
 lobed or two-parted seeds differ from the corresponding parts 
 of those springing from undivided seeds. The two-lobed 
 seeds produce at first two seed-leaves ; a stem grows up that 
 has a woody structure, surrounded by a softer covering or 
 bark, and the leaves are furnished with veins extending in 
 different directions, and presenting a net-like appearance. 
 
 10. Such are found in the oak, the maple, the pines, and 
 other fir-trees — in all the common trees of northern forests — 
 and also in the bean, the pea, and the morning-glory. The 
 undivided seeds, on the contrary, produce a single leaf at 
 first; a stem grows up that has a reed-like arrangement, 
 without bark or soft external covering, and the leaves have 
 parallel veins. This kind of vegetable growth may be seen 
 in a palm-stem, a ratan,"^ a corn-stalk, and in different kinds 
 of grain and the grasses. 
 
 11. Plants of the first division are w^hat botanists call ex 
 ogenous^ or outward-growing, because they grow by addi- 
 tions to their outward surface, while the older and harder 
 portions are the central parts. Those of the second division 
 are called endogenous^ or inward-growing, because they grow 
 by internal additions, which constantly push the older and 
 harder portions outward. Thus the outward portion of our 
 forest trees — ^the sap-wood — is the softest ; but the outward 
 portion of the sugar-cane, or of a corn-stalk, is the hardest. 
 
1st Dir. OF . .VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE BOTANY. Ill 
 
 12. Those who have taken this first step in botany will 
 now be able to divide plants, trees, shrubs, and flowering 
 plants generally, into their two leading classes, from the 
 structiire^° of their stems, bark, and leaves. They will see 
 that it requires no " mystical lore"^^ to give a partial descrip- 
 tion of a tree, shrub, or herb, from the examination of a single 
 seed. There is no difficulty in understanding this, yet it con- 
 stitutes one of the most important lessons in botany. 
 
 13. Let us then enter, without hesitation, upon this inter- 
 esting scienccf-that we may gain a knowledge of Plants, in 
 respect to their organization, ^2 their growth, and the proper- 
 ties' ^ and characteristics^'^ by which they are classified and 
 distinguished. It is a science in which -Solomon deHghted; 
 for he wrote about plants, "from the cedar-tree that is in 
 Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall." 
 
 ** The vegetable world, each plant and tree, 
 Its seed, its name, its nature, its degree. 
 He was allowed, as Fame reports, to know ; 
 From the fair cedar on the craggy brow 
 Of Lebanon, nodding supremely tall. 
 To creeping moss, and hyssop on the wall." 
 
 14. Botany, moreover, is a science that will create for us a 
 new world of life, teeming^^ with ever-varying forms of 
 beauty; it will present strange mysteries in the most com- 
 mon objects around us ; and it will unfold^^ many lessons of 
 the " wisdom of God in creation." It will furnish us instruct- 
 ive companions wherever we are ; and whether we wander 
 by the road-side, in meadows and gardens, or on mountains, 
 it will open to us the great volume of Nature — a volume 
 written " in the only language which has gone forth to the 
 ends of the world, unaffected by the confusion of Babel." 
 
 1 Zig'-zag, having frequent short turns. 
 
 2 Un-€5n'-8ciou8-lt, without knowledge. 
 
 3 A8'-PE€T, appearance. 
 
 * T£€h'-ni€-al, such aa belong to some art 
 
 or profession ; not common. 
 5 C6n'-tbabt, different or opposite appear- 
 
 6 I.0BB8, parts ; natural divisions. 
 
 ■f Rat-an', a species of cane with joints, but 
 
 without branches. 
 8 Ex-Sg'-b-noub, outward-growing. 
 
 9 En-dog'-e-nous, inward-growing. 
 
 10 Struct'-uee, internal formation. 
 
 11 "Mysticai. loee," secret or obscure 
 learning. 
 
 12 Or-gan-i-za'-tion, structure ; arrange- 
 ment of parts. 
 
 '3 Pk(5p'-er-tibs, peculiar qualities. 
 '* £!nAB-A€-TEE-i8'-Ti€8, whatever marks oi 
 denotes the qualities of a thing. 
 
 15 Teem'-inq, abounding. 
 
 16 Un-fSld', discover ; display. 
 
 H2 
 
178 WILLSON's FOURTH EEADEE. Part III. 
 
 LESSON m. 
 
 THE ELEMENTARY PARTS OF PLANTS.— CELL LIFE. 
 
 1. All plants, from the gigantic cypress-trees of California 
 to the microscopic vegetation growing as mould on bread, or 
 mildew on articles of clothing, consist of separate and minute 
 sacs, usually adherent^ together, and called cells. The first 
 thing we can detect, as a seed begins to form in the living 
 plant, is a little cell, much smaller than the point of the finest 
 needle, and visible only by the aid of the microscope. Gradu- 
 ally this little cell gix)ws ; then it divides into two, or another 
 little cell is added to it ; soon more cells are added ; and by 
 the time the growing seed is large enough to be seen by the 
 naked eye, it consists of a cluster or mass of these little cells 
 adhering together. (Fig. 2.) 
 
 2. After increasing in number for some time in this way, 
 some of these clusters grow into the form of a leaf, and others 
 into the form of a little root. Some, however, have tico seed 
 leaves, and some have only one^ thus early marking out the 
 two great classes of vegetable growth which we have already 
 described. Thus, in the very seed itself, the germ^ of the 
 future plant lies hidden ; even there the giant oak lies wrap- 
 ped up in its little acorn cradle, a small thing then, yet des- 
 tined to be not only the monarch of the woods, but the father 
 of mighty forests yet to cover the earth. 
 
 3. Such are the wonders — the mighty results — which flow 
 from so small a thing as a single seed. And may it not be 
 that the Almighty formed but 07ie acorn at the time of crea- 
 tion, and that in its little germ — even in its central cell^he 
 folded up — so small that none but Omniscience^ could see it 
 
 T''ig. 2 The process of cell growtli is here illustrated. At 1 is 
 
 shown a highly magnified cell, as first seen by the microscope. The 
 
 minute germ increases by the addition of other cells, 
 
 until, in 6 and 7, the outlines of a leaf 
 
 are visible. fl f^) 
 
 3 ■ 
 
 I of a leaf 
 
 4 i 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE BOTAITSr. 179 
 
 — the oak which was to grow from it, and all the acorn seeds 
 which it was to produce ; and in those acorn seeds all the 
 vast forests of oak that have since covered the earth? and 
 that in a single grain of wheat he folded up, in miniature,* 
 the myriads^ of wheat plants which man has gathered in all 
 succeeding harvests ? 
 
 4. " Lo ! in each seed, within its slender rind,^ 
 
 Life's golden threads in endless circles wind — 
 Maze^ within maze the lucid webs^ are roU'd, 
 And, as they burst, the living flame unfold. 
 The pulpy acorn, ere it swells, contains 
 The oak's vast branches in its milky veins ; 
 Grain within grain successive harvests dwell, 
 And boundless forests slumber in a shell." 
 
 5. As cell life is the beginning of the life of plants, even in 
 the seeds, so the entire growth of plants is but a continua- 
 tion of the same process^ — consisting of millions upon mil- 
 lions of little cells heaped together — forming ahke the mass- 
 ive trunk of the oak, and the finest down upon the tiny leaf. 
 When we consider the exceeding minuteness of these cells in 
 sotae plants, and that some stems shoot up three or four inch- 
 es in a day, we can form some idea of the wonderful rapidity 
 of cell growth. It is supposed that the century plant, a short 
 time before blooming, increases at the rate of over twenty 
 thousand millions of cells in a day ! 
 
 6. Thus, knowing how all vegetables grow, we can better 
 understand the nature of such curious plants as mould, mil- 
 dew, and yeast, which, having neither stems nor leaves, con- 
 sist wholly either of a single cell, or of clusters of little cells 
 adhering together. Yeast, which is put into the dough of 
 bread to make it light, consists of little cell plants so exceed- 
 ingly small that a cubic inch of yeast is said to contain more 
 than eleven hundred millions of them. As the yeast plant 
 grows rapidly in the dough, spreading all through it, and 
 forming its living cells in countless numbers, it gives ofi" little 
 bubbles of gas, which puff up the dough, and thus " leaven 
 the whole lump." 
 
 7. Strange though it may seem, yet all animal growth is 
 the growth of ceUs also, the same as in vegetables. The 
 
180 
 
 WILLSON'S FOUETH EEADEE. 
 
 PaetIII 
 
 muscles, the bones, the nerves, the hair, the nails, consist of 
 cells. The smallest muscular fibre that the microscope can 
 detect is made up of a row of little cells, much like a string 
 of beads. In shape and mode of growth the animal cells are 
 in all respects Hke the vegetable; but the substances of 
 which they are composed are different.* 
 
 8. In very young plants, and also in the lower grades of 
 vegetable life,, such as the mushrooms and the mosses, the 
 walls of the cells are very thin ; and these are what are called 
 cellular plants. These cells, when first formed, are egg- 
 shaped, or globular, and filled with a liquid substance ; but 
 when numbers of them are pressed together in the growing 
 plant they assume various forms, as may be seen by exam- 
 ining thin slices of the pith of different kinds of wood with a 
 microscope. (Fig. 3.) 
 
 9. The cells are usually soft; but sometimes they are so 
 filled up and pressed together that they become very hard, 
 as in thorns, prickles, and the shells or coverings of nuts. 
 Potatoes, turnips, and other vegetables are made palatable 
 and digestible by breaking up their cells, containing starch 
 and sugar, in the process of boiling or steaming. 
 
 10. Some of the cells, at an early stage of their growth, 
 lengthen into the form of short tubes, and thicken their walls. 
 These form what is called, from their shape, vascular tissue,^® 
 or woody fibre. Owing to the strength of this tissue, vascu- 
 lar plants grow to a great height, with sufficient firmness to 
 form the ribs of oak that plow the main, or, towering in their 
 native woods like " the mast of some tall admiral," they are 
 
 * The cell walls of plants are composed of what is called cil' -lu-loae ; but animal cells 
 are composed of an animal element called pro' -te-lne. 
 
 Fig. 3. 
 
 At 8, in Pig. 3, is shown a cluster of highly-magnified cells, of globular shape, as first 
 formed. At 9 is a lengthened cell, the beginning of such as are found in vascular tissue 
 At 10 and 11 are globular cells assuming angular forms under the influence of pressure. 
 
1st DiT. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE BOTANY. 181 
 
 enabled to withstand the tempest's shock. Vascular tissue 
 is sometimes in the form of spiral fibre, which may be seen 
 surrounding the pith of some plants, where the thread may 
 easily be uncoUed. 
 
 11. Through the small tubular wood-cells the sap is carried 
 from the roots to the leaves. Yet these cells, in the young 
 and growing plant, have no openings, and the sap can pass 
 from one to another only by making its way through their 
 thin walls. And sp short are the wood-cells generally, that, 
 to rise a foot in such a tree as the basswood, the sap has to 
 pass through the walls of about two thousand of these cells. 
 There are no continuous^ ^ veins, as many suppose, through 
 which the sap of trees rises. Wood-cells in the bark are gen- 
 erally longer than in the central parts ; they give great tough- 
 ness to the inner bark of many plants, and they furnish the 
 invaluable fibres of flax and hemp. 
 
 12. In addition to the cells which have been described, 
 there are larger cells called ducts, which are either long sin- 
 gle cells overlapping one another, or rows of cells placed end 
 to end. Some of these are so large that they may be seen by 
 the naked eye when cut across, but they are usually much too 
 small for this. There are also, in various plants, canals or 
 cavities formed between or among the cells, and filled with 
 the particular products of the plant, such as milk, oil, turpen- 
 tine, etc. 
 
 13. These various cells constitute the substance or frame- 
 work of plants, from ths mushroom of a night to the oak of 
 centuries. The diversities of appearance which they present, 
 when viewed by the aid of a microscope, enable us to distin- 
 guish one kind of vegetable growth from another, as the 
 fibres of flax or U7ien from cotton, even when twisted and 
 woven together, and thus to detect frauds in the manufacture 
 
 ■p. 4 At 12 are represented portions 
 
 ^' * - •■ of vascular tissue, showing the 
 
 spiral arrangement of the fibres. 
 At 13, a common arrangement 
 of the wood-cells through which 
 the sap circulates, placed end to 
 end, or partially overlapping 
 each other. At 14 is shown the 
 appearance of fibres of flax, when 
 viewed by the microscope ; and at 
 15, the twisted appearance of 
 fibres of cotton. 
 
182 
 
 WILLSON^S FOURTH READEE. 
 
 Paet III. 
 
 of cloths, where the cheaper material of cotton is intermixed 
 with linen. (Fig. 4.) Our obligations to the woody fibre of 
 plants are infinite, for without it we should have neither linen 
 nor cotton cloths, neither sails nor cordage for our ships, nor 
 a door-mat upon which to clean our shoes ; without it the 
 books of the present day would have no existence, for the 
 paper upon which they are printed consists of wooden fibre. 
 14. All plants have a covering called the cuticle; and this, 
 formed of cells also, extends from the lowest root to the top- 
 most twig, spreading over every leaf, and enveloping the 
 whole plant. Yet in one of the great classes of plants, the 
 exogenous^ or outward-growing, this covering differs essen- 
 tially from that of the endogenous^ or inward-growing ; for, 
 while in the former it constitutes the true bark, which is sep- 
 arable from the wood, in the latter it is only a hardening of 
 the outward portion of the stem. We shall hereafter see 
 that this covering has offices to perform, especially in the 
 leaves, quite similar to the functions of the human skin, which 
 we have already described. 
 
 1 Ad-heb'-ent, united, 
 
 2 6eem, beginning ; origin ; first principle. 
 
 3 Om-nis'-cienoe, universal knowledge. 
 
 * " In min'-ia-tCee," on a very small scale, 
 5 Myk'-i-ads, immense multitudes. 
 
 * Rind, skin ; bark, or outer coat. 
 ' Maze, intricate winding. 
 
 " Ltjcid webs," the webs of life, voelX 
 known to Him who wove them. 
 Pkoc'-ess, pronounced prds'-ess. ■ 
 Tis'-suE (ftsft-.sft7/), that which has the 
 appearance of being tcovcn. 
 €oN-TiN'-t'-ous, separate; uninterrupt- 
 ed. 
 
 LESSOIS' IV. 
 THE ROOTS OF PLANTS. 
 
 1. In what manner does the plant grow, and by what 
 means is it nourished, are questions to be answered at the 
 very outset^ of our inquiries^ into the physiology of vegeta- 
 tion. We are therefore next brought to consider those com- 
 pound^ organs of plants which perform, among other func- 
 tions,* that of nutrition. 
 
 2. It is necessary to vegetable growth that certain sub- 
 stances should be absorbed, in a liquid state, through the 
 roots, and that this nutritive liquid, or sap, should circulate 
 through the stem to the leaves, which latter are the respiratory 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE BOTANY. 183 
 
 or breathing organs, performing functions similar to the lungs 
 of animals. From the leaves the sap is returned to the stem, 
 after having been acted upon by the atmosphere, in a condi- 
 tion suitable for the formation of the new growth of the plant. 
 The stem ^^adpH^ ^' When the proper conditions 
 
 that goes ^^^^^ of heat, light, and moisture allow 
 the germination^ of the seed, which 
 may be considered as a plant whose 
 vital powers are dormant,^ its out- 
 er shell or covering bursts, and, in 
 whatever position the seed is plant- 
 The Koot oKSBk ^^' ^^^ stem goes upward, while the 
 
 that goes downward, /f/f f|P^ rootlct invariably turns downward, 
 and spreads out its little fibres to suck up nourishment from 
 the earth. 
 
 4. In some rare instances roots may become branches, and 
 branches act as roots. A maple-tree may be inverted,"^ the 
 branches being buried in the ground and the roots extended 
 in the air, without killing the tree. The stems of some plants 
 send out fibres which take root in the earth ; and frequently 
 twigs stuck in moist earth will take root and become large 
 trees. I^early two tnousand years ago the Mantuan^ bard 
 thus discoursed on this mode of propagation : 
 
 5. "These ways of planting Nature did ordain 
 
 For trees, and shrubs, and all the sylvan train. 
 Others there are, by late experience found : 
 Some cut the shoots, and plant in furrow^ ground: 
 Some coyer rooted stalks in deeper moul^ 
 Some cloven stakes, and (wondrous to behold !) 
 Their sharpened ends in earth securely place, 
 And the dry poles produce a living race. 
 
 6. " Some bow the vines ; and, buried in the plain, 
 
 Their tops in distant arches rise again. 
 Others no root require : the lab'rer cuts 
 Young slips, and in the soil securely puts : 
 Even stumps of olives, bared of leaves, and dead, 
 Eevive, and oft redeem their withered head." 
 
 It is probable that some allowance is to be made for the 
 poet's privilege in YirgiPs account of the dry poles; but it is 
 not uncommon to see posts, set out for fences, growing as trees. 
 
184 
 
 WILLSON'fe FOUETH EEADER. 
 
 Pakt III. 
 
 1. Although no solid substance can find its way through 
 the roots into the plant, yet as the water which the rootlets 
 absorb from the earth always contains earthy matters, it is 
 through this medium that the plant is nourished, when the 
 matter in solution^ is such as the plant requires for its struc- 
 ture. ^^ In this way, also, the plant is poisoned when sub- 
 stances injurious to it are thrown around the roots ; and in 
 the same way the wood of trees designed for ornamental pur- 
 poses has been dyed by chemical substances. 
 
 8. Although roots generally grow in the ground, yet some, 
 like those of parasites^^ and air-plants, grow upon other vege- 
 tables, and have no immediate connection with the soil. Nor 
 does it follow that all subterranean^^ vegetable organs are 
 roots. The root-stalks of the sweet flag and ginger, also tu- 
 bers Hke the common potato, artichoke, and dahlia, and the 
 bulbs of the turnip, lily, tuhp, and onion, may very properly 
 be considered as underground stems, although, in botanical 
 language, they are usually described as roots. (Fig. 6.) 
 
 Fig. 6. The Roots of Plants. 
 
 Fig. 6. — Botanists not only give particular names to all parts of plants, but also par- 
 ticular terms to express their principal varieties of form. Hence, in advanced works on 
 Botany, these terras must be defined and explained. Although, of the root, stem, and 
 leaves, the former is the simplest, and least varied in its modifications, yet it exhibits 
 quite a number of varieties in form, the principal of which will be described here. 
 
 At 1 is shown the sprouting of a grain or kernel of corn, sending upward a little stalk 
 which contains a single seed-leaf, or co-tyl-ii'-don, but has wrapped up in it other leaves. 
 It has a single rootlet, or rad'-i-cle, which shoots downward. At 2 the corn plant is seen 
 farther advanced, each leaf coming out from within the others as the plant grows. A 
 cluster oifilnrous or thread-like roots has also made its appearance. 
 
 At 3 is the seedling plant of the maple, with its pair of seed-leaves, or co-tyl-r'-dons, 
 showing that it belongs to the class of di-co-tyl-e'-don-ous plants (see note, page 193). At 
 4 is a turnip-shaped or na'-pi-form root ; 6, spindle-shaped, like a radish ; 7, roots of the 
 dilhlia, clustered and tuberous; 8, the potato, also tuberous ; 9, the corni, or solid bulb 
 of the crocus, which is merely a short and thick rootstock ; 10, the scaly bulb of the lily ; 
 
 11, the rhi-zo'-raa or rootstock of the Solomon's seal, properly an underground stem; 
 
 12, the strawberry, sending out runners, which take root and produce new plants. 
 
1st DiV. OP . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE BOTANY. 
 
 185 
 
 9. Roots are classified, in respect to duration, as anmial^^^ 
 biennial^ and perennial. Annual roots are fibrous,^* and pro- 
 duce, during their brief existence of a single season, herbage, 
 flowers, and seeds. Biennial plants produce leaves the first 
 year, but their flowers, fruit, and seeds appear during the sec- 
 ond and last year of their existence. Perennial plants live 
 through a series of years, producing leaves, flowers, and seeds 
 during the natural period of their Hves, which is sometimes 
 reckoned by centuries. ^^ 
 
 ' 0tjt'-8Et, beginning. 
 
 2 In-qui'-kies, questions ; seeking for in- 
 formation. 
 
 3 Com'-pound, not simple ; composed of sev- 
 eral parts, or of dififerent materials. 
 
 ♦ FCn€'-tion)b, offices ; employments. 
 
 6 6ekm-i-na'-tton, the act of sprouting. 
 
 6 Dob'-mant, in a sleeping state. 
 
 ' In-veet'-ed, turned upside down. 
 
 8 "• Man'-tu-an bard," Virgil : called the 
 
 Mantuan bard because he was born near 
 
 Mantua, in Italy. 
 
 9 " Matter in solution," that which is 
 
 dissolved in the water. 
 10 STKueT'-CKB, growth or formation, 
 ii Par'-a-sItes, plants that live and grow 
 on other plants. 
 
 12 Sub-tee-ra'-ne-an, being under the sur- 
 face. 
 
 13 an'-nl-al. Bi-en'-ni-al. Pee-en'-ni- 
 
 AL. 
 
 1* FT'-BEOTis, having small thread-like roots. 
 15 Cen'-tu-kies, hundreds of years. 
 
 LESSOK V. 
 CHANGES PRODUCED BY CULTIVATION. 
 
 1. The changes which roots and tubers can be made to un- 
 dergo^ are numerous and highly beneficial to man. The po- 
 tato, for example, is a native of tropical America, and when 
 found wild its tubers are small and scarcely fit to be eaten, 
 while it has been rendered by cultivation one of the most val- 
 uable articles of food. The produce^ of an acre of wild pota- 
 toes could be held in a single measure, while the same area,^ 
 under cultivation, will sometimes yield two or three hundred 
 bushels. Cultivation has produced a thousand varieties of 
 this tuber, varying in shape, size, color, and quaHty. 
 
 2. Beets, parsnips, and turnips are also made to assume 
 many variations under proper cultivation. The bulb of the 
 latter, for instance, has, since the beginning of the present cen- 
 tury, been changed from globular* to spindle-shaped, in col- 
 ors from white and yellow to purple and green, and in weight 
 from a couple of ounces to twenty pounds. So also with the 
 carrot, which in a wild state is a slender, tapering root of a 
 yellowish-white color, but which, by cultivation, increases in 
 
186 WILLSON's' FOURTH READER. PAKT HI. 
 
 size, and assumes a deep red or orange color. In the one 
 
 case the root is not much thicker than a common quiU, in the 
 
 other it becomes as thick and long as a man's arm. 
 
 Chambers. 
 
 1 Un-dee-g5', pass through. 1 3 a'-ee-a, extent of surface. 
 
 a PbSd'-itce, that which is produced. |* Glob'-u-lae, roundish ; like a globe. 
 
 LESSON^ VI. 
 
 THE STEMS OF PLANTS. 
 
 ^^s^ 1. That part of the plant 
 
 which grows upAvard from the 
 root becomes the stem and 
 branches. Of all parts of the 
 plant, it is, perhaps, the most 
 useful to man, as it furnishes 
 the principal materials for his 
 dwellings, his ships, his wagons 
 and carriages, and food for the 
 support of animal life. Its 
 principal use to the plant is to 
 hold the leaves up to the air 
 Cross section of an Ex-og'-en-ous stem, and light, and to furnish a me- 
 dium for the circulation of the sap. 
 
 2. It has been stated that the two great divisions of flow- 
 ering plants are the outward-growing, or exogenous, and the 
 inward-growing, or endogenous. The stems of these two di- 
 visions differ widely in arrangement and appearance, as may 
 be seen by examining the two representations of them on the 
 next page. (See Fig. 8-9.) The exogenous plants have an 
 outer bark, a wood, and pith ; the wood is arranged in' circular 
 layers around the centre by yearly additions; and there are 
 rays branching from the central part to the circumference. 
 These rays add great beauty to many kinds of wood, where 
 they are known by the name of silver grain. In maple and 
 oak they are very conspicuous.^ 
 
 Fig, 7, above, represents a cross section of an ex-os'-en-ous stem, one of the cone-bpar- 
 Ing species, in the eighth year of its growth, showing eight distinct zones, or layers, sur- 
 rounding the central pith. In this spccimon the markings are very distinct. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OB BOTANY. 
 
 187 
 
 3. In the endogenotis, or inward-growing stems, there are 
 no concentric^ circles of wood; neither is there pith or bark; 
 but bundles of woody fibres are scattered throughout the 
 cell work. While an exogenous stem, when cut across, shows 
 the circular layers, which represent the number of years of 
 its growth, as in the example which we have given in Fig. 7, 
 the endogenous stem is merely an irregular mass of cells and 
 woody fibre. 
 
 4. The division of plants into herbs, shrubs, and trees, is 
 based on i^eculiarities^ of the stem. The root of an herb may 
 be perennial,* but its stem is annual,^ and dies at the end of 
 the first year, as we see in the hollyhock. A tree has peren- 
 nial roots and stem, which are of woody fibre, with a distinct 
 trunk or body between the roots and branches. A shrub is 
 a small tree which sends out branches from the surface of the 
 ground, and has no distinct trunk. 
 
 5. In the lower orders of vegetable life there is a kind of 
 plants, most of them very small, which have neither branches 
 nor leaves. As they are "flowerless plants," they form a 
 
 Fig. 8. 
 Ex-oa'-BN-otrs. 
 
 Fig. 9. 
 En-dog'-en-otts. 
 
 Fig. 8 represents the ex-og'-enous stem of the oak in the fourth year of its growth. 
 The lower part is a vertical section, and the upper part a cross section, or horizontal sec- 
 tion. In the horizontal section four distinct layers are seen suiToundiug the pith in con- 
 centric circles. The lines branching outward from the pith to the bark are the med'-ul- 
 ia-rij rays. 
 
 At a is sho%vn the pith ; &, the bark ; c, c, c, dotted ducts ; d, cf, d, layers of woody 
 ftore ; s, spiral vessels of the med'-ul-la-ry sheath. 
 
 Fig. represents the eri-dog'-en-ous stem of the palm, the upper part being a horizon- 
 tal section, and the lower vertical. As the new growth takes place constantly from ivith- 
 in, the vascular fibres /, /, /, /, are constantly pushed ou'tvard and compressed, and the 
 outer part of the stem— the rind or covering— becomes the hardest, which is the reverse 
 of what takes place in the ex-og'-en-ous, or outward -grooving plants. In the en-dog'-on- 
 0U8 stem there is no distinction of pith, wood, and bark, nor docs a cross section show 
 any concentric arrangement of annual layers. 
 
188 willson's FOTJETH KEADEE. Paet III, 
 
 class by themselves.* The red snow of polar regions, the 
 green scum of stagnant water, the fungus^ growth on decay- 
 ed wood, and various kinds of mould and mildew, are vege- 
 table productions of the flowerless plants. Yeast, to which 
 we have already alluded, consists of a little cell plant of the 
 same family. Rust and smut in grain, and dry rot in wood, 
 are composed of similar minute plants. 
 
 6. The lowest grade of plants with stems are liverworts, 
 which grow in wet places. Next come the mosses with 
 stems and distinct foliage, and ferns which frequently grow 
 several feet in height, with a peculiar stem called a stijje. 
 Probably the highest grade of flowerless plants in this coun- 
 try is the scouring rush, which seems to be all stem, and en- 
 tirely destitute of leaves. It grows in sandy places, and con- 
 tains so much silex, or sand, that it is used for scouring and 
 polishing articles of furniture. In ascending the scale of vege- 
 table development"^ we come next to grasses, sedges, rushes, 
 liUes, flags, reeds, and palms. 
 
 7. All endogenous stems rapidly attain their full size, which 
 seldom exceeds eighteen inches in diameter, though the 
 height sometimes readies one hundred and fifty feet. It is 
 in the exogenous division of plants that the famed trees of 
 mammoth growth are found. Pliny, an ancient- writer, men- 
 tions one, in the hollow trunk of which Lucan, the Roman 
 consul, supped and slept with twenty men. A chestnut-tree 
 on Mount Etna is said to be sixty-four feet in diameter, and 
 it is of such renown^ that it is mentioned in ancient maps of 
 Sicily. 
 
 8. Travelers in Africa have described the gigantic baobab- 
 trees, one of which, at the mouth of the Senegal River, is sup- 
 posed to be upward of two thousand years old. On the oi> 
 posite page is a drawing of it. It has a short and massive 
 trunk, thirty feet in diameter. When seen at a distance it 
 presents almost the appearance of a forest, and it is not till 
 the spectator has satisfied himself by a near inspection^ that 
 he can be convinced that the luxuriant verdure above pro- 
 
 • They are called "flowerless," or cryp-tng'-a-rnous plants. The latter name, which 
 means "hidden fructification," intimates that they may have something answering to 
 flowers and seeds, although not the same as seeds ; and this is now known to be the case 
 with most of them. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OK BOTANY. 189 
 
 ceeds from a soli- 
 tary stem. This 
 enormous tree, 
 clothed with its 
 brilliant verdm*e 
 and snowy blos- 
 soms, must be a 
 magnificent spec- 
 tacle ; and we can 
 notwonderatthe 
 feelings which 
 
 prompt the Un- The Baobab-tree. 
 
 tutored^^ negro to worship under its shade, and hail the open- 
 ing of its flowers with pious veneration.^i 
 
 9. But even the great baobab must yield in dimensions to 
 the mammoth red-wood trees of California. One of these 
 trees was three hundred feet in height, and thirty in diam- 
 eter, and its bark was fifteen inches in thickness. "When it 
 was felled,i2 ^]^e trunk was perfectly sound to the centre. 
 The largest of the group, known as the " Father of the For- 
 est," has long been prostrated; but it is great even in its 
 ruins. It is estimated that it was four hundred and twenty 
 feet in height, or only a few feet lower than the highest of 
 the Egyptian pyramids. 
 
 10. The stems of some trees send down branches which 
 take root in the earth and form new trunks. The most re- 
 markable instance of a plurality of trunks is seen in the ban- 
 yan-tree of India. It has at first but one stem ; but from the 
 branches leafless shoots are sent down, which, taking root, 
 become secondary stems. This process is repeated till one 
 tree makes a forest. There is said to be one in Hindostan 
 with three hundred and fifty larger trunks and three thousand 
 smaller ones, covering seven acres, and furnishing shelter for 
 seven thousand men. 
 
 11. These magnificent natural temples are esteemed^^ sa- 
 cred by the Hindoos, and are dedicated^'^ to religious rites. ^* 
 Milton has beautifully described this tree : 
 
 "Branching so broad and long, that in the ground 
 The bended twigs take root ; and daughters grow 
 
190 willson's foukth eeadee. pakt m. 
 
 About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, 
 
 High over-arched, and echoing walks between." 
 
 12. Another kind of stem, remarkable in many respects, is 
 that of the cactus, an order of plants found almost exclusive- 
 ly in America, and abundant in Mexico, Oregon, and Califor- 
 nia. They are usually leafless plants, presenting their juicy 
 stems under a great variety of forms, from that of an egg to 
 a lofty fluted column, and, in the case of the giant cactus of 
 California, exhibiting a leafless branching trunk fifty or six- 
 ty feet in height. Growing mostly in hot, dry, and rocky 
 places, where they are exposed for many months in the year 
 to the fiercest beams of a tropical sun, they are remarkably 
 adapted, by a wise provision of Nature, to the situations in 
 which they are destined to live. 
 
 Fig. 10. 
 
 13. During the wet season of the year they grow rapidly, 
 and so fill themselves with nourishment that they may be lit- 
 erally said to gorgc^^ themselves with food. Then, when the 
 rains cease, and the air becomes dry, and the spirit of the 
 desert resumes his withering dominion over their climate, 
 
 Fig. 10, Cactus Plantn. At 1 is noon tho Cnctiis opiinHn, or prickly-poar cactup, its 
 stem and liriiftchca forniint? a succession of thick and flattened joints ; at 5 in one Pimi- 
 lar, but with shorter nnd flatter joints ; 2 and 4 are plants belonging to the Cerens genn-< 
 of cactuses, the latter being the gjaut cactus of California, which rises to the height ol 50 
 or 60 feet ; 3 is the melon cactus ; and 6 is tho Cereus speciosissimus in full bloom. 
 
1st 
 
 DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OK BOTANY. 
 
 191 
 
 and all the gay companions of the cactus droop and die, these 
 juicy plants, closing their pores to prevent evaporation, ^^ 
 feed on their garnered^^ stores, and preserve the most robust 
 health, not for days merely, but for months. In their power 
 of enduring long-continued drouth,!^ ^hey may be considered 
 to fill that place in the vegetable world which is occupied in 
 the animal kingdom by the camel of the desert. 
 
 1 €oN-8ri€'-u-otTS, plain ; easily seen. 
 
 2 €on-ckn'-tei€, having a common centre. 
 
 3 PE-€tjL-ilE'-i-TiE», particular features. 
 
 * Pek-en'-ni-al, lasting many years. 
 6 An'-nu-al, lasting but one year. ^ 
 
 6 Fun'-otjs (fung'-gus), like a musnroom. 
 ' De-vel'-op-ment, progress to higher 
 
 forms ; an unfolding. 
 8 Re-nown', repute; notoriety; so well 
 
 known. 
 
 • In-spec'-tion, view; examination. 
 
 10 Un.tO'-toeei>, not instructed ; untaught. 
 
 11 V£n-ek-a'-tion, reverence. 
 
 12 Felled, cut down. 
 
 13 Eb-teem'ei>, regarded ; held. 
 
 i4r Di:d'-i-ca-ted, solemnly set apart. 
 
 15 Rites, religious ceremonies. 
 
 16 GoKGB, to till to overflowing ; to glut. 
 1'' E-vap-o-ka'-tion, passing off in vapov 
 
 a drying up. 
 
 18 Gak'-neked, gathered ; laid up in stor^ 
 
 19 Dkouth, dryness ; want of rain. 
 
 LESSON VII. 
 
 THE BANYAN-TREE. 
 1 . 'Twas a fair scene wherein they stood, 
 A green and sunny glade^ amid the wood, 
 And in the midst an aged banyan grew. 
 It was a goodly sight to see 
 That venerable tree; 
 For o'er the lawn,^ irregularly spread, 
 Fifty straight columns^ propped its lofty head. 
 
192 WILLSOn's fourth E]S&J)EK. Part III. 
 
 And many a long depending* shoot 
 Seeking to strike its root, 
 Straight, like a plummet, grew toward the ground. 
 2. Some on the lower boughs, which crossed their way, 
 Fixing their bearded fibres,^ round and round. 
 With many a ring and wild contortion^ wound ; 
 Some to the passing w4nds, at times, with sway 
 Of gentle motion swung ; 
 Others of younger growth, unmoved, were hung, 
 Like stone-drops from the cavern's fretted'' height.^ 
 Beneath was smooth and fair to sight, 
 Nor weeds nor briers deform'd the natural floor ; 
 And through the leafy cope^ which bowered it o'er 
 
 Came gleams of checker'd light. 
 So like a temple did it seem, that there 
 A pious heart's first impulse would be prayer. 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 Glade, an opening in a wood. |5 FT'-bekp, thread-like roots or tendrils. 
 
 8 Lawn, a space of ground covered with 
 
 grass. 
 3 €6l'-iimi*6 (kW-ums), stems. 
 * De-pknd'-ing, hanging from. 
 
 6 €on-tok'-tion, a twisting. 
 
 '' Fbet'-ted, interwoven like net-work. 
 
 8 IIeTght, top ; ceiling overhead 
 
 9 €opE, covering ; arch-work. 
 
 LESSOl^ VIII. 
 THE LEAVES OF PLANTS. 
 
 1. It has been seen, in the article on Human Physiology, 
 that in the cuticle or skin of man there are little opemngs or 
 pores, which may be regarded as the breathing-holes of the 
 skin, but that the lungs are, nevertheless, the principal organ 
 by which the blood is purified. Leaves may be considered 
 the lungs of plants ; for in the cuticle or covering of all green 
 leaves there are minute apertures,^ like the openings of the 
 perspiration tubes in the human skin ; and it is through these 
 that the sap is brought in contact with the air for purposes 
 of respiration^ and exhalation. ^ 
 
 2. So minute* are these openings, visible only by the aid 
 of the microscope, that more than one hundred thousand of 
 them occur^ in a square inch of the surface of some leaves. 
 They are usually most numerous on the under side of a leaf, 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 
 
 193 
 
 except where both sides are equally exposed to the influence 
 of air and light. The number of these breathing mouths in a 
 single tree of some kinds is almost beyond calculation ; for it 
 has been estimated that the leaves of a single large elm-tree 
 have a leaf surface of not less than five acres! (Fig. 11.) 
 
 3. We have seen that the first and most important divis- 
 ion of leaves is into net-veined and paraUel-veined, the former 
 belonging to exogenous plants, and springing from two-lobed 
 seeds, as the acorn and the bean ; and the latter belonging to 
 endogenous plants, and springing from single seeds, as the 
 palms and the grasses.* Leaves are also classified as simple 
 and compound. Their principal varieties may be learned from 
 the accompanying illustrations. 
 
 4. The surface of the leaf also afibrds a means of classifica- 
 tion^ into smooth, downy, hairy, and rough leaves. Accord- 
 ing to their duration, leaves are csiMed fu(/acious'^ when they 
 fall off during the summer, deciduous^ when they fall in au- 
 tumn, and persiste7it^ when they remain during the winter, 
 and gradually give place to new leaves in the spring. 
 
 5. In cold regions leaves are small and highly polished, as 
 if to reflect what little heat and light may fall upon them. 
 Plants growing on mountains and dry places have gutters to 
 
 * The seeds which have two lobes are called by botanists di-co-tyl-e'-don-ous, because, 
 when they germinate, they produce two co-tyl-G'-dons, or seed-leaves. The single seeds 
 are called mon-o-co-tyl-G'-don-ous, because they produce but a single co-tyl-G'-don, or 
 seed-leaf. 
 
 Tig. 11. 
 
 Fig. 11 IS a honzonial seuiiou of a leaf highly magnified. Ac v, v. v are shown the 
 small veins in the leaf, and s, s, s indicate the little pores or breathing-holes, which, in 
 botanical language, are called stomata or stomates. Destroy the leaves of a tree in mid- 
 summer, and, as the tree will thea be unable to breathe, it will wither, and in most cases 
 will soon die. 
 
 I 
 
194 
 
 WILLSON's FOrETH EEADEE. 
 
 Part III. 
 
 convey the moisture that may fall upon them to their roots. 
 In tropical comitries leaves grow large and broad, as the tal- 
 lipot palm of Ceylonj whose single leaf often affords cover- 
 ing for a whole family. 
 
 Fig. 12. 6. Sometimes leaves present very singu- 
 
 lar forms, as those of several species of 
 pitcher-plants, some of which have connect- 
 ed with them complete vases, with a nicely 
 fitting lid or cover. Many of these plants 
 are found in Southern Asia. The cup of 
 the Chinese pitcher-plant holds about a 
 tumblerful of sap, which is poured out 
 from its inner side. This plant is quite common 
 in Ceylon, where it is called monkey-cup, be- 
 cause the monkeys sometimes open the lid and 
 drink the water. (Fig. 12.) 
 . Y. In India there is also a climbing stem of a 
 species of the pitcher-plant, one hundred feet 
 long, and destitute of leaves till near the extrem- 
 ity, so that it seems impossible that it should re- 
 ceive its nourishment from the ground by absorption.^o This 
 
 Fig. 12.— At 1 is a species of Dischidici, in which the pitclier is at the end of the etem, 
 which grows through the leaf. At 2 is the Nepenthes distillatoria, the true pitcher-plant 
 of India. The pitcher is at the end of an extension of the midrib of the leaf. At 3 is the 
 1^ Sarracenia purinirea^ the American side-saddle flower, in which a leaf, collapsing and 
 uniting at its edges, forms the pitcher. At 4 is also a species of the Nepenthes^ often call- 
 ed the Chinese pitcher-plant. The lid is generally shut down. 
 
 mn-Wk^'k 
 
 10 
 
 I. SiMPLB Leaves At 1 is what is called a linear leaf. It is also parallel-veined^ like 
 
 Nos. 21, 23, and 24, showing that it belongs to the plants which have but one co-tyl-u'- 
 don, or seed-leaf. At 2 is a lan'-ce-o-late leaf; 3, el-lip'-tic-al leaf: 4, o'-vate ; 6, ob- 
 lan'-ce-o-late ; 6, ob-O'-vate; 7, cu'-ne-atc, or wedge-shaped ; 8, eag'-it-tiite; 9, au-ric'- 
 u-late, or eared, and sag'-it-tute when the ears are pointed and turned downward ; 10, 
 has'-tate, or spear-shaped. 
 
 '^^^ 
 
 At U is a leaf that is both o'-viite and a-c.'.te'; 12 is cord'-ato, or heart-shaped ; \^, 
 ren'-i-form, or kidney-shaped ; 14, pelt'-atc, or shield-shaped, and also or-bic'-fi-lar ; 15, 
 lobed, or pinnately-Iobed ; 10, pinnately-cZe/^; 17, pinnately-2:;ar<cd ; 18, pinnately-di- 
 
 ( I A / 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OK BOTANY. 
 
 195 
 
 Fig. 13. 
 
 Fig. 14. 
 
 plant has a pitcher or cup, but without any lid, formed of a 
 leaf with its edges rolled toward each other till they meet 
 and adhere,^ 1 while the upper part, from which it is suspend- 
 ed, is open to receive the rain or dew. 
 
 8. This pitcher always contains 
 a fluid, composed of the sap of the 
 plant and water, in which a number 
 of black ants and flies are generally 
 seen. It is supposed that by their 
 decomposition^^ ^he plant is nourish- 
 ed. A still more wonderful appear- 
 ance is presented by a tuft of fibres, 
 
 hanging from the branch, and dipping into the pitcher, ap- 
 parently for a new supply of aliment.^^ (Fig. 13.) 
 
 9. A very singular plant grows in 
 North and South Carolina, on the 
 Cape Fear and Santee rivers, which 
 is especially adapted to catching 
 flies, and hence is called a fly-trap. 
 The trap is open when the sun 
 shines, ready, as soon as a fly touches 
 any of the long hairs within its 
 leaves, to close suddenly, and hold 
 it fast until its struggles are over, 
 when it slowly opens for another 
 victim. The locality of this vegeta- 
 ble wonder, a drawing of which is 
 here given, is confined to the region 
 of the rivers named above, nor is it 
 
 found in any other part of the world. (Fig. 14.) 
 
 Fig. 13 is the Dischidia rafflesiamx of Asia, in which the pitcher is a leaf united at its 
 edges. This pitcher has no lid. 
 
 Fig. 14 is the Venus fly-trap, Dionceci muscipnla, of Carolina. At a and 6 are flies, 
 caught by the sudden closing of this singular leaf-trap. 
 
 n. CoMPOtTND Lkaves. — At 19 are pinnate leaves, or those in which the leaflets are ar- 
 ranged on the sides of a main leaf-stalk. I'al'-mate or dig'-it-ate leaves are those in 
 
196 willson's fourth eeadee. Part hi. 
 
 10. At night many leaves assume a drooping position, 
 owing to the withdrawal of the stimulus^* of hght. This 
 folding of the leaves is commonly called the sleep of plants. 
 It is especially noticed in those of clover, and in peas and 
 other pod-bearing plants. Even the foHage of trees with 
 compound leaves or leaflets, as the locust, manifests^^ this 
 folding of the leaves in sleep. If kept in the dark all day, the 
 sleeping leaves are not aroused, but they are sensitive to arti- 
 ficial light at night. Plants of difierent species assume differ- 
 ent positions at night, but the position is constant for those 
 of the same species. 
 
 '11. All deciduous^ leaves change their color in autumn. 
 The green color becomes of a golden or crimson tint, chang- 
 ing to a russet,^^ and often presenting the most beautiful and 
 gorgeous appearance. American forests, especially those 
 in which the maple is abundant, are said to excel, in this re- 
 spect, those of the Old World. An English lady-tourist is 
 said to have been so delighted with the dazzling splendor of 
 American forest leaves in autumn that she procured a supply 
 to ornament a ball-dress, to 
 
 " Deck the gay halls 
 Of her far distant home." 
 
 12. As swans are said to sing most sweetly just before 
 they die ; as some species of fish exhibit the richest colors as 
 they expire ; as^ soap-bubbles assume the brightest rainbow- 
 
 which the leaflets are borne on the very tip of the leaf-stalk, as at 20. At 21 is a per- 
 fo'-li-ate leaf ; and at 22 one that is connate-perfoh'ate. Eq'-ui-tant leaves, as at 23, are 
 those which partly inclose or straddle over each other. At 24 the leaves are whirled, or 
 arranged around the stem on the same level ; and at 25 they are opposite each other. 
 
 Particular terms are also used to designate the forms of the ii'-pex, or end of the leaf, 
 as at a it is acuminate; 5, acute; c, obtuse; d, trnncnte; e, emnrginate^ or notched; 
 when deeply notched, it is ob-cord'-ate ; (7, sharp-pointed, ia cusp'-i-dute ; h, short-point- 
 ed, is mfi'-cro-nate. 
 
 Z7 28 
 
 At 26 is a three-lobcd leaf; 27, three-cleft; 28, three-parted; 29, three-divided, or pal- 
 mately-divided. 
 
 The various forms of the mnrpins of leaves are also indicated by particular terms. 
 When their general outline is completely filled out, they are said to be entire ; SO is ser'- 
 rate., or saw-toothed ; 31, simply dent' -ale, or toothed ; 32, cre'-nate, or scalloped ; 83, re- 
 jjand', or wavy ; 34, sin'-u-ate, having deeper curves than the repand ; 35, in-cl8'edj 
 M'hich means cut, or jag'-ged. 
 
1st Div. OF .. VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE BOTANY. 197 
 
 tints the instant before they vanish in thin air, so leaves take 
 on their most beautiful dyes^"^ in the cool autumn days, " the 
 saddest of the year." 
 
 " Has it come' ? the time to fade' ? 
 And with a murmured sigh, 
 The maple, in his scarlet robe, 
 Was first to make reply." 
 
 13. This change is not necessarily effected by cold, for it 
 often appears before the earliest frost, and is premonitory^^ 
 of the fall of the leaf One by one they fall, till, as Coleridge 
 has so prettily sung, there is seen but 
 
 "The one red leaf, the last of its clan. 
 That dances as often as dance it can ; 
 Hanging so light, and hanging so high. 
 On the topmost bough that looks up at the sky." 
 
 14. But, according to Byron, in his description of an En- 
 glish autumn, 
 
 "What is lost in green is gained in yellow;" 
 
 and Southey could see a pleasant sign of coming Christmas in 
 
 "These fading leaves, 
 That with their rich variety of hues 
 Make yonder forest in the slanting sun 
 So beautiful." 
 
 15. " September strews the woodland o'er 
 
 With many a brilliant color ; 
 The world is brighter than before — 
 
 Why should our hearts be duller^ ? 
 Sorrow and the^arlet leaf ! 
 
 Sad thoughtsHhd sunny weather' ! 
 Ah me^ ! this glory and this grief 
 
 Agree not well together." 
 
 » Ap'-EB-TtJEES, openings ; holes. 
 
 2 Res-vi-ra'-tion, the act of breathing ; 
 taking in air. 
 
 3 Ex-ha-la'-tion, the act of sending forth 
 fluids in the form of vapor. 
 
 * Mi-nCte', very small. 
 
 5 0€-<TcrE', exist ; are found. 
 
 6 Clas-si-fi-ca'-tion, arranging in classes. 
 ' Fu-ga'-ciou8, flying away. 
 
 8 De-cTt)'-C-ous, falling in autumn. 
 
 9 Peb-sist'-k-nt, continuing without wither- 
 ing. 
 
 1 10 Ab-soep'-tion, the act of drinking in^ oi 
 
 sucking up nourishment. 
 11 Ab-heee', stick together. 
 •2 DE-€OM-po-8i"-Tio>f, decay. 
 13 Ai/-r-MENT, food ; nutriment. 
 1* Stim'-u-lus, something that rouses to ac- 
 
 tion. 
 
 15 Man'-i-fe8T8, shows plainly. 
 
 16 Eus'-set, reddish-brown., 
 1'' Dyes, colors; hues. 
 
 18 TRE-MOis'-i-To-Ky, giving previous wan? 
 ing or notice. 
 
198 WILLSON's FOUETH EEADEE. Part III. 
 
 LESSON IX. 
 THE ANGEL OF THE LEAVES : AN ALLEGORY. 
 
 [An allegory is a species of fable, in which one thing is described by something ebe 
 that resembles it. We have a fine example of an allegory in the eightieth Psalm, in 
 which God's chosen people are represented by a vineyard. In the following allegory the 
 desponding, sorrowing, and afflicted soul, mourning its desolation, but afterward cheered 
 by the gracious promises of our heavenly Father, is described by the fable of the tree in 
 autumn, stripped of its leaves, chilled by the cold, and pelted by the storm, but cheered 
 by the angel of the leaves with the promise of a new robe when spring shall return again.] 
 
 The Tree etrippud ut its leaves in Autumn. 
 
 1. "Alas! alas!" said the sorrowful tree, "my beautiful 
 robe is gone ! It has been torn from me. Its faded pieces 
 whirl upon the wind ; they rusA beneath the squirrel's foot 
 as he searches for his nut. They float uj^on the passing 
 stream and the quivering lake. Woe is me! for my fair, 
 green vesture^ is gone. It' was the gift of the angel of the 
 leaves ! I have lost it, and my glory has vanished ; my 
 beauty has disappeared. My summer hours have passed 
 away. My bright and comely^ garment, alas ! it is rent in a 
 thousand parts. 
 
 2. "Who will weave me such another? Piece by piece 
 it has been stripped from me. Scarcely did I sigh for the 
 loss of one ere another wandered off on the air. The sound 
 of music cheers" me no more. The birds that sang in my 
 
1st Div. OP . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OB BOTANY. 199 
 
 bosom were dismayed at my desolation. They have flown 
 away with their songs. 
 
 3. "I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe 
 Avith his smile. The zephyrs^ breathed softly through its 
 glossy folds; the clouds strewed pearls among them. My 
 shadow was wide upon the earth. My arms spread far on 
 the gentle air; my head was lifted high; my forehead was 
 fair to the heavens. But now how changed! Sadness is 
 upon me ; my head is shorn, my arms are stripped ; I can not 
 now throw a shadow on the ground. Beauty has departed; 
 gladness is gone out of my bosom ; the blood has retired from 
 my heart — ^it has sunk into the earth. 
 
 4. " I am thirsty, I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in 
 the chiUy air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them. 
 The winter is coming ; I am destitute. Sorrow is my por- 
 tion. Mourning must wear me away. How shall I account 
 to the angel who clothed me for the loss of his beautiful gift ?" 
 
 5. The angel had been listening. In soothing accents he 
 answered the lamentation. "My beloved tree," said he, " be 
 comforted. I am with thee still, though every leaf has for- 
 saken thee. The voice of gladness is hushed among thy 
 boughs, but let my whisper console thee. Thy sorrow is but 
 for a season. Trust in me ; keep my promise in thy heart. 
 Be patient and full of hope. Let the words I leave with thee 
 abide'^ and cheer thee through the coming winter. Then I 
 will return and clothe thee anew. 
 
 6. "The storm will drive over thee; the snow will sift 
 through thy naked limbs. But these will be light and pass- 
 ing afflictions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy helpless 
 arms, but it shall soon dissolve into tears. It shall pass into 
 the ground, and be drunken by thy roots. Then it will creep 
 up in secret beneath thy bark. It will spread into the branch- 
 es it has oppressed, and help me to adorn them ; for I shall 
 be here to use it. 
 
 7. " Thy blood has now only retired for safety. The frost 
 would chill and destroy it. It has gone into thy mother's 
 bosom for her to keep it warm. Earth will not rob her off- 
 spring. She is a careful parent. She knows the wants of all 
 her children, and forgets not to provide for the least of them. 
 
200 WILLSOn's fourth EEADEK. Part III. 
 
 8. " The sap, that has for a while gone down, will make 
 thy roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then re- 
 turn to nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strength- 
 ened. Then, -if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in 
 my promise, I will fulfill it. Buds shall shoot forth on every 
 side of thy boughs. I will unfold for thee another robe. I 
 will paint it and fit it in every part. It shall be a comely 
 raiment. Thou shalt forget thy present sorrow. Sadness 
 shall be swallowed up in joy. Now, my beloved tree, fare 
 thee well for a season." 
 
 9. The angel was gone. The muttering winter drew near. 
 The wild blast whistled for the storm. The storm came and 
 howled around the tree. But the word of the angel was hid- 
 den in her heart ; it soothed her amid the threatenings of 
 the tempest. The ice-cakes rattled upon her limbs; they 
 loaded and weighed them down. 
 
 10. "My slender branches," said she, "let not this burden 
 overcome you. Break not beneath this heavy affliction; 
 break not, but bend, till you can spring back to your places. 
 Let not a twig of you be lost. Hope must prop you for a 
 while, and the angel will reward your patience. You will 
 move upon a softer air. Grace shall again be in your motion, 
 and beauty hanging around you." 
 
 11. The scowling face of winter began to lose its features. 
 The raging storm grew faint, and breathed its last. The 
 restless clouds fretted themselves to atoms; they scattered 
 upon the sky and were brushed away. The sun threw down 
 a bundle of golden arrows. They fell upon the tree ; the ice- 
 cakes glittered as they came. Every one was shattered by a 
 shaft. They were melted and gone. 
 
 12. The reign of spring had come. Her blessed ministers 
 were abroad in the earth; they hovered in the air; they 
 blended their beautiful tints, and cast a new-created glory on 
 the face of the heavens. 
 
 13. The tree was rewarded for her trust. The angel was 
 true to the object of his love. He returned ; he bestowed on 
 her another robe. It was bright, glossy, and unsullied.^ The 
 dust of summer had never lit upon it ; the scorching heat had 
 not faded it ; the moth had not profaned® it. 
 
1st DiV. OF. .VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 201 
 
 The Tree in Summer. 
 
 14. The tree stood again in loveliness ; she was dressed in 
 more than her former beauty ; she was very fair; joy smiled 
 aroimd her on every side. The birds flew back to her bosom. 
 They sang on every branch a hymn to the angel of the leaves. 
 
 Miss H. F. Gould. 
 
 15. Now each tree, by summer crown'd,'^ 
 
 Sheds its own rich twilight round. 
 Glancing there, from sun to shade, 
 
 Bright wings play ; 
 There the dew its couch hath made — 
 
 Come away ! 
 Where the boughs, with dewy gloom, 
 Parken each thick bed of bloom — 
 
 Come away ! 
 - Where the lily's tender gleam 
 Quivers on the glancing stream — 
 Where the fairy cup-moss lies. 
 With the wild-wood strawberries, 
 
 Come away— away ! Hemjlvs. 
 
 1 Vest'-Cbk, garment ; robe. 
 
 2 €omb'-ly {kum'-ly),, suitable ; beautiful. 
 
 3 Zeph'-te (zef'-er)^ the west wind; any 
 soft, mild breeze. 
 
 12 
 
 * A-bTde', remain with thee. 
 
 5 Un-sul'-lied, not sullied ; not sainted. 
 
 6 Pro-fan'ed, polluted ; defiled. 
 ' €bow»'d, adorned with leaves. 
 
202 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part IH. 
 
 LESSON X. 
 
 POETICAL IMAGERY DERIVED FROM THE VEGETABLE 
 WORLD. 
 
 1. " Then deep in the greenwood rode he, 
 
 And asked of every tree ; 
 Oh, if ye have ever a singing leaf, 
 I pray you to give it me. 
 
 2. "But the trees all kept their counsel ;^ 
 
 They said neither yea nor nay ; 
 Only there sighed from the pine-tops 
 A music of seas far away. 
 
 S. " Only the aspen* pattered 
 
 With a sound like growing rain. 
 That fell ever fast and faster, 
 Then faltered to silence again." 
 J. Russell Lowell. Ballad of the Singing Leaves, 
 
 4. There are no objects in nature more familiar to us than 
 the leaves of trees ; there are none upon which most persons 
 look with greater interest and delight, and none around 
 which cluster a greater variety of pleasing associations.^ In 
 the different stages of their growth and decay they are often 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE BOTANY. 203 
 
 referred to as emblems'^ of the life of man ; their freshness in 
 spring aptly denoting the season of youth and hope, and their 
 autumn^ hues admonishing of the approaching winter of old 
 age, when, life's pleasures and enjoyments being over, man is 
 often forced to say, 
 
 "I have lived long enough ; my way of life 
 Is fall'n into the se7-e^ and yellow leqf.^* 
 
 5. The writings of all ages abound in poetical imagery^ 
 drawn from the vegetable world ; and where vegetation is 
 the most abundant, it has exerted the greatest influence upon 
 the literature'^ of the people. 
 
 * ' In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, 
 
 And they tell in a garden their loves and cares ; 
 Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, 
 On its leaves a mystic^ language bears." — Percival. 
 
 6. The " flowers of spring," the "green fields," the " ripen- 
 ed fruit," the " decaying herbage," whether they teem with 
 cheering or with saddening associations, are things that mem- 
 ory ever loves to dwell upon. How natural was it that the 
 poet, in describing Falstaff's dying moments, should paint 
 even the hoary profligate,^ in his spirit wanderings, as " bab- 
 
 -bling of green fields." And how touchingly does Cardinal 
 Wolsey, from the similitude'*^ of a plant, portray the vicissi- 
 tudes^i of hiiman life : 
 
 7. " This is the state of man : To-day he puts forth 
 
 The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
 And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; 
 The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
 And — when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely 
 His greatness is a ripening-^nips his root, 
 And then he falls, as I do. " 
 
 8. The sacred writers draw some of their most beautiful 
 imagery from the same sources. What more appropriate 
 pictures of the brevity^^ of human life can be given than 
 these : " We all do fade as a leaf." " We are like grass which 
 groweth up ; in the morning it flourisheth ; in the evening it 
 is cut down, and withereth." The righteous are declared to 
 be " like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth 
 forth his fruit in his season," and " whose leaf also shall not 
 
204 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH EEADEE. 
 
 Part IH. 
 
 wither ;" while the ungodly are compared to " an oak whose 
 leaf fadeth, and a garden that hath no water." 
 
 9. Solomon, speaking in the person of the coming Savior, 
 says, " I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys." 
 The Savior himself spoke of the righteous as the wheat, and 
 of the wicked as the tares ; and he Ukened^* the kingdom of 
 heaven to a grain of mustard-seed, which, from the smallest 
 beginning, " becometh a tree, so that the birds of the air come 
 and lodge in the branches thereof." He also taught of the 
 coming of his kingdom from the parable of the fig-tree ; and 
 we are told that in the New Jerusalem was the " tree of life^ 
 whose leaves were for the healing of the nations." 
 
 10. Flowers speak a varied language, and reach the heart 
 not only in its seasons of joy, but in its hours of sadness also. 
 Nothing can more forcibly remind us of joys forever fled than 
 the pale, perishing flowers of autumn : 
 
 *' Pale flowers! pale perishing flowers ! 
 
 Ye're types of precious things ; 
 Types of those bitter moments, 
 That flit, like life's enjoyments, 
 
 On rapid, rapid wings : 
 Last hours with parting dear ones 
 
 (That Time the fastest spends), 
 Last tears in silence shed. 
 Last words half uttered, 
 
 Last looks of dying friends." C. B. Southet. 
 
 11. We can hardly conceive of any more natural associa- 
 tion of ideas than that which makes a rosebud the emblem 
 of infant loveliness; a full-blown rose the type^^ of blooming 
 womanhood ; and which likens^* extreme old age to the " last 
 leaf" of autumn, which has survived all its kindred, and now, 
 with the ^preaching blasts of winter, trembles to. its fall. 
 As a fitting illustration of the latter of these emblems, we in- 
 troduce the following gem from a favorite American poet. 
 
 1 " Thkib counsel," their own secrets. 
 
 a As'-PEN, a species of poplar. 
 
 8 As so-oi-a'-tions, connected ideas ; or, 
 such a connection of ideas that one natur- 
 ally suggests or calls up others ; as when 
 the leaves of spring remind us of the sea- 
 son of youth, of youthful hopes, etc. 
 
 ♦ Em'-blbms, pictures or representations. 
 
 * SEee, dry ; withered. 
 
 • lM'-A('iE-BY, lively descriptions, in which 
 
 one thing represents another, etc. ; as 
 the " last leaf" may represent old age. 
 
 7 1.Tt'-eb-a-tCre, writings ; books, etc. 
 
 8 Mys'-Ti€, hidden ; secret. 
 
 9 I'bof'-t.i-gate, a man abandoned to vice. 
 10 Si-mil'-i-tOde, likeness ; resemblance, 
 
 • I Vi-cis'-si-tCdes, changes. 
 
 13 Brev'-i-ty, shortness. 
 
 13 Tvpe, that which represents something 
 
 1* I.iK'-ENf, compares. [else. 
 
1st Div OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 205 
 
 LESSON XI. 
 
 THE LAST LEAF. 
 
 1. I SAW him once before, 
 As he pass'd by the door\ 
 
 And again 
 - The pavement stones resound 
 As he totters o'er the ground 
 With his cane\ 
 
20.6 wtllson's fourth reader. Pakt in. 
 
 2. They say tliat in his prime', 
 Ere the pruning-knife of Time 
 
 Cut him down', 
 Not a better man was found 
 By the crier on his round 
 
 Through the town\ 
 
 3. But now he walks the streets. 
 And he looks at all he meets 
 
 So forlorn' ; 
 And he shakes his feeble head, 
 That it seems as if he said', 
 
 " They are gone\" 
 
 4. The mossy marbles rest * 
 On the hps that he has press'd 
 
 In their bloom^ ; 
 And the names he loved to hear 
 Have been carved for many a yeai 
 
 On the tomb\ 
 
 5. My grandmamma has said — 
 Poor old lady' ! she is dead 
 
 Long ago^ — 
 That he had a Roman nose\ 
 And his cheek was like a rose 
 
 In the snow\ 
 
 6. And now his nose is thin\ 
 And it rests upon his chin 
 
 Like a staffs ; 
 And a crook is in his back\ 
 And a melancholy crack 
 
 In bis laugh\ 
 
 7. I know it is a sin 
 For me to sit and grin 
 
 At him here', 
 But the old three-corner'd hat. 
 And the breeches — and all that', 
 
 Are so' queer^ I* 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 207 
 
 8. And if I should live to be 
 The last leaf upon the tree 
 
 In the spring' — 
 Let them smile as I do now^ 
 At the old forsaken bough' 
 Where I cling\ 
 
 Oliver W. Holmes. 
 
 a More aolemnity and deeper feeling are expressed by the inflections as here given — 
 the rising on "so^" and the falling on "queer," than would be if these inflections were 
 transposed. Now the meaning is simply the exclamatory expression, with some depth 
 of feeling, " How queer they are^ !" The inflections transposed would express the more 
 trivial meaning, '^ They are so queer' that I can not help laughing\" 
 
 LESSON XII. 
 THE FOOD OF PLANTS. 
 
 1. The food of plants consists of air and water, and of the 
 various substances dissolved in or mixed with them. By 
 their leaves and roots* plants absorb loater^ which is com- 
 posed of the two gases oxygen and hydrogen. By the little 
 breathing holes in their leaves they also take in air^ which is 
 composed principally of the two gases oxygen and nitrogen, 
 and a small proportion of carbonic acid. By the varied union 
 of two or more of these constituent^ gases nearly all the parts 
 of the plant are formed, the solids as well as the liquids. 
 
 2. The elements, carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen, are used 
 by the plant, in various proportions, to form woody tissue,^ 
 sugar, starch, resin, oils, and acids. Nitrogen, another gas, i# 
 also required in small quantities for many vegetable products, 
 especially those used in medicines, and it is found in the most 
 nutritious^ articles of food. But, besides the above, which 
 are called organic^ elements, some mineral, earthy, and other 
 ingredients,^ called inorganic^ elements, are also used as 
 food, or for some other purpose, by different plants, although 
 in small quantities. f 
 
 3. In view of these mineral and earthy matters which most 
 
 • The new and very small fibrous roots called spongioles^ and not the large and old 
 roots, are what absorb moisture or food from the earth. Hence the importance, in trans- 
 planting shrubs and trees, of preserving with care these little rootlets. 
 
 t Such as potassium, silicon, calcium, phosphorus, iron, sodium, sulphur, iodine, and 
 chlorine. Even copper is taken in by the roots of some plants. It is said to form eight 
 parts in a million in coffee, and about four and a half parts in a million in wheat. 
 
208 WILLSOIT's fourth EEADER. Part III. 
 
 plants are found to contain, the eminent German chemist, 
 Liebig, has classified cultivated vegetables, some as alkaW 
 plants, of which the potato is an example; some as lime 
 plants, among which are peas ; some as silex or sa7id plants, 
 which include the grasses ; and some as phosphorus plants, 
 among which are our grains, wheat, rye, etc. The skin of 
 the ratan palm abounds so much in silex, which the plant has 
 absorbed dissolved in water, that it will strike fire with a 
 piece of steel ; the same substance exists in other kinds of 
 wood, to which it gives a peculiarly gritty texture f and in 
 j^^^ a plant common in this country, the equisetum, or horse-tail, 
 \^p which is used for polishing wood, the whole surface seems 
 / to be composed of compact sandy particles. 
 * 4. Carbonic acid gas^ which, as we have elsewhere seen, 
 S-C is very destructive of animal life, and is produced by the 
 //^breathing of animals and the combustion^ or decay of vege- 
 ' table matter, is the most essentiaP<* of the substances upon 
 which plants are fed. It is taken into the plant both by the 
 leaves and by the roots. By some mysterious process, which 
 we do not understand, it is there decomposed," and, while 
 the carbon is retained to aid in forming the solid parts of the 
 plant, the oxygen is returned to the atmosphere. Here, be- 
 ing breathed by animals, it again meets with its old friend 
 carbon, unites with it, and carbonic acid is again sent forth 
 from animal lungs to supply other vegetables with carbon. 
 
 6. Thus, day by day, the whole vegetable world is grow- 
 ling up before our eyes, forming one half of its solid bulk out 
 of a portion of the same air that we breathe — the carbon 
 which it borrows from the atmosphere and from decaying 
 vegetation — while nine tenths of the other half are common 
 water.* Strange though it may seem to us, yet we know 
 that the solid parts of our wooden dwellings, of our ships 
 that sail on the ocean, of our sturdy forest oaks, are formed 
 almost wholly of compressed^^ ^nd hardened air and water. 
 And when the vegetation that robes the summer landscape 
 with beauty falls asleep in the lap of autumn, and when these 
 forests that surround us fall, and put on the change which 
 
 * A plant is said to retain about one third part of all the water that enters its system, 
 and to change it into a solid form. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 209 
 
 we call decay, they merely return to earth and air again, 
 that succeeding generations of vegetable life may feed upon 
 and be clothed with the same materials. 
 
 6. Many are the mysteries in vegetable life that we do not 
 understand. It is, indeed, all a mystery. We can not even 
 tell why plants vary in form, and structure,^^ and modes of 
 growth; why some bask in the sunlight, and others court 
 the shade ; why those growing in the same soil, and feeding 
 upon the same air and water, put on different colors ; why 
 one converts its juices into poison, and another furnishes a 
 delicious and wholesome beverage. Nor has man been ena- 
 bled to tell hoxc^ out of the very same materials, the plant 
 can form different substances — how out of carbon, hydrogen, 
 and oxygen, it can form woody fibre, and starch, and gum, 
 and sugar, and also an acid that is in all respects like vinegar. 
 
 7. Yet all this the plant accomplishes in its chemical labora- 
 tory,^'^ with a refinements^ of skill far beyond what man pos- 
 sesses. Man can not take the elements and combine them as 
 the plant does ; they will not unite at his bidding. Yet the 
 chemical processes which the plant performs must not be re- 
 garded as the blind operations of Nature ; they are strictly 
 in accordance with definite laws which God has given it; 
 and, while we view the results of these laws with admiration 
 and wonder, we should not forget their origin. 
 
 8. But, although man can not do what the plant does, he 
 may, aid the plant in performing many of its secret opera- 
 tions ; by knowing " how plants grow," he may furnish them 
 food of the right kind, and he may thus cause the landscape 
 to put on a robe of brighter green, the harvests to yield more 
 abundantly, and even the desert and waste places to bud and 
 blossom like the rose. 
 
 1 •eoN-sTiT'-tj-ENT, forming, composing, or 
 making, as an essential part. 
 
 2 TTs'-suE, the woody portions, which have 
 the appearance of threads woven together. 
 
 3 Nc-trT'-tiou8, nourishing. 
 
 * 0r-gan'-i€, those used in forming the or- 
 gans, vessels, etc. , of plants. 
 
 » In-gre'-di-ents, the several parts which 
 make up a thing. 
 
 6 In-oe-gan'-i€, not forming part of the or- 
 gans. 
 
 ^ Xl'-ka-lt, a substance capable of destroy- 
 ing the effect of an acid. 
 
 8 TSxT'-f BE, character ; formation. 
 5 €om-bCs'-tion, burning. 
 
 10 Es-skn'-tial, important. 
 
 11 De-€OM-po$'£d, separated into its constit- 
 uent parts. 
 
 12 €om-pre88'ed, pressed or brought close 
 together. 
 
 13 Stru€t'-Gee, internal arrangement of 
 parts. 
 
 1* Lab'-o-ra-to-ry, workshop; place for 
 
 chemical operations. 
 15 Re-fIne'-ment, exceeding nicety ; great 
 
 exactness. 
 
210 wellson's FOUETH BEADEB. PabtIII. 
 
 LESSON XIII.^ 
 THE MYSTERIES OF VEGETATION. 
 
 1. We know not why the beech delights the glade^ 
 With boughs extended, and a rounder shade', 
 While towering firs in conic^ forms arise, 
 
 And with a pointed spear divide the skies'; 
 Nor why, again, the changing oak should shed 
 The yearly honor of his stately head, 
 While the distinguished yew is ever seen 
 Unchanged in branch, and permanent in green. 
 
 2. Wanting the sun', why does the caltha fade^ ? 
 Why does the cypress^ flourish in the shade^ ? 
 The fig, and date, why love they to remain 
 In middle station, and an even plain\ 
 While in the lower marsh the gourd is found, 
 And while the hill with olive shade is crown'd^ ? 
 
 ■ 3. Why does one climate and one soil endue'^ 
 The blushing poppy with a crimson hue. 
 Yet leave the lily pale, and tinge the violet blue^ ? 
 Why does the fond carnation love to shoot 
 A various color from one parent root. 
 While the fantastic^ tuUp strives to break • 
 
 In two-fold beauty and a parted streak^ ? 
 
 4. The twining jasmine', and the blushing rose^, 
 
 With lavish grace their morning scents disclose^ ; 
 
 The swelling tuberose, and jonquil fair', 
 
 Impart their fragrance to the evening air\ 
 
 Whence has the lofty tree, or modest flower, 
 
 A various instinct, or a different power^ ? [breath'. 
 
 Why should one earth\ one clime\ one stream\ one 
 
 Raise this' to strength^ and sicken tfmt' to death^ ? 
 
 Prior. 
 
 ' Gladh, an opening in a wood. 1 3 C5'-peess, an evergreen ; the white cedar. 
 
 » €6n'-t€, tapering upward to a point in the * En-dOb', clothe ; supply with, 
 form of a cone. |s Fan-tas'-tis, gay ; gaudy. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OE B0TA1<-Y. 
 
 211 
 
 LESSON XIV. 
 PLANTS, THE LUNGS OF CITIES. 
 
 1. Public squares and spacious streets, well set with trees, 
 have been aptly^ called the lungs of cities. It is certain that 
 the two great organized kingdoms of nature — the animal and 
 vegetable — are designed to co-operate^ in their mutual de- 
 velopment.^ The beautiful Persian fable, which describes the 
 rose and the nightingale as shut up in a crystal cage, and 
 mutually giving life to each other, though not strictly correct 
 as to the action of the flower^ is forcibly illustrative of the 
 relative actions of animal and vegetable hfe. 
 
 2. In modern aquaria'^ the theory becomes reality, for 
 aquatic plants keep the water in which they grow in a fit 
 state to sustain animal life. It is a fact Avell known that fish- 
 es do not thrive well in reservoirs^ destitute of aquatic vege- 
 tation. The water of an aquarium need not be changed for 
 weeks or months, if there is a proper proportion of such 
 plants as grow in water. This, then, is the great secret of 
 the aquarium : the plants afibrd a supply of oxygen to the ani- 
 mals, while the animals supply the plants with the carbon 
 which is indispensable^ to their growth. 
 
 3. So in the atmosphere. In large cities, where carbonic 
 acid gas is produced in large quantities from the lungs of 
 multitudes of people, and from the great number of fires kept 
 constantly burning, trees act as purifiers, by absorbing the 
 carbonic acid which is poisonous to man, and by restoring to 
 the air the life-supporting oxygen. Throughout all portions 
 of the globe this principle is in constant operation, evincing"^ 
 the wisdom and goodness of the Deity in thus beautifully 
 harmonizing^ the operations of Nature. 
 
 ' apt'-ly, properly ; fitly. 
 
 2 €o-5p-er-ate, act together. 
 
 3 De-vei.'-op-ment, growth ; progress to 
 higher forms. 
 
 * A-qtia'-ki-a (the plural of aquarium), little 
 ponds, or vessels, for rearing water plants 
 with water animals. 
 
 5 Ees-ek-voie' (rez-er-vwor')^ a place where 
 water is kept in store for fountains, etc. 
 
 6 In-dis-picn'-sa-ble, absolutely necessary. 
 ■^ E-vin'-cing, showing ; making plain. 
 
 8 Har'-mo-ni-zing, causing to agree. 
 
212 
 
 willson's fourth eeadee. 
 
 Part HI. 
 
 LESSON XV. 
 BUDS. 
 
 1. A BUD has been called a repe- 
 tition of the plant on which it 
 grows. It is common to give the 
 name hud to that scaly envelope^ 
 which contains the rudiments^ of a 
 new plant ; but such scales are not 
 required to form a bud, except in 
 cold climates. 
 
 2. The first appearance of a young 
 branch or flower is the bud, and a 
 new and independent plant is con- 
 tained in it, as much as in a seed. Buds not only 
 terminate growing branches, but appear in what 
 are termed axils^ or the acute angles formed by 
 
 the leaves and the stem. From the buds spring branches, 
 which are in all respects like the main stem, and which pre- 
 sent an arrangement similar to the leaves. 
 
 3. Many buds are never fully developed,^ but seem to have 
 been produced as a resource'^ in case of the destruction of 
 any. Thus, if the terminaP bud be destroyed, lateral^ buds, 
 that otherwise would have remained undeveloped, put forth 
 shoots, and the growth of the plant is scarcely checked. It 
 is on this principle that hedges are thickened by trimming 
 off the tops, a process well known to gardeners. 
 
 4. Irregular buds often appear in stems gorged"^ with sap. 
 The rich and much admired grain known as bird's-eye maple 
 is attributed to the numerous buds which have appeared from 
 time to time during the growth of the tree. Frequently two 
 buds appear, side by side, instead of one, owing to an excess 
 of nutritious^ sap. 
 
 6. Thorns are supposed to result from an imperfect growth 
 of what should have been branches -or stems. It is well 
 known that many plants, which in a wild state abound in 
 thorns, become free from them by cultivation. In such cases 
 
1st DiV. OF. .VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 213 
 
 the increased supply of nourishment afforded the plant by 
 better tillage enables the buds to become branches instead of 
 thorns. TJiorns are of woody structure, and grow from the 
 branch or stem ; whilQ prickles only grow from the bark, and 
 may be peeled off with it, as will appear by stripping the 
 bark from a rose-bush. 
 
 6. It should be mentioned here that, as a leaf-bud is really 
 a separate and complete plant in itself — like the parent plant 
 on which it grows — if the leaf-bud can be transferred^ to an- 
 other plant, and made to take root in and grow upon it, it 
 will produce a stem having the same qualities as the parent 
 plant from which it was taken. Thus, if a leaf-bud from a 
 greening apple-tree be transferred^ to another tree, and made 
 to grow upon it, it will produce the same kind of apples as 
 its parent stem. 
 
 V. But if the seed of a greening apple be planted, and grow 
 and produce fruit, it will, indeed, bear apples, but it is uncer- 
 tain what kind of apple ; it may be sweet or sour, a russet 
 or a pippin, or perhaps some new kind not before known. It 
 is from seeds alone that new kinds can be produced. But if 
 any particular kind of plant is to be multiplied,^^ it can only 
 be done by aid of its leaf-buds — by planting the stems which 
 spring from them, or by the common gardening operations 
 of budding and grafting. 
 
 8. It is only plants whose fruit is of a like general charac- 
 ter that can be mutually transferred in this way. The buds 
 of the pear, the crab-apple, the common apple, and the quince, 
 can be made to grow each upon the others; but an apple 
 will not grow upon a peach-tree or a cherry-tree. The proc- 
 ess of budding and grafting was known and practiced as long 
 ago as the days of Virgil. 
 
 9. But various are the ways to change the state 
 Of plants; to bud/^ graft/^ and inoculate." 
 For where the tender rinds" of trees disclose'* 
 Their shooting germs, a swelling knot there grows j 
 Just in that place a narrow slit we make, 
 
 Then other buds from bearing trees we take ; 
 
 Inserted thus, the wounded rind we close, 
 
 In whose moist folds the infant budlet'* grows. 
 
214 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH EEADEE. 
 
 Part IK. 
 
 10. But when the smoother stem from knots is free, 
 
 We make a deep incision" in the tree, 
 And in the solid wood the slip inclose ; 
 The foster-plantlet^'' shoots again and grows; 
 And in short space the laden boughs arise, 
 With happy fruit advancing to the skies. 
 The mother plant admires the leaves unknown 
 Of alien^^ trees, and apples not her own. 
 
 Virgil, Georgicil. 
 
 1 En'-vel-ope, an inclosing cover. 
 
 2 Rd'-di-mejsts, beginnings ; first princi- 
 ples. 
 
 ' De-vkl'-oped, unfolded ; fully grown. 
 * Re-sotjbce', a resort when others fail. 
 
 5 Teem'-in-al, growing at the end. 
 
 6 Lat'-ee-al, growing at the side. 
 ' GSeged, filled ; glutted. 
 
 8 Nt:-TEi"-Tioup, nourishing. 
 
 9 Teans-fer'eed to, conveyed to. 
 io Mul'-ti-plTei», increased. 
 
 11 "To BUD," or "to rx-oe'-tr-LATE," is to 
 insert the bud of one plant or tree in or 
 under the bark of another. 
 
 12 ''To graft" is to insert a small shoot or 
 cutting. It is generally done by cutting 
 off a stem, splitting it, and inserting the 
 shoot in the cleft. 
 
 13 EiND, bark ; outer covering. 
 1* Dis-olose', show. 
 
 15 Bud'-let, a little bud. 
 
 16 In-ci*'-ion, a cut; gash ; slit. 
 
 17 "Fos'-ter-plant'-let," a little . plant 
 that grows on a stem that ia not its parent 
 stem. 
 
 18 al'-ien, foreign. 
 
 LESSON XYI. 
 LEAF AKRANGEMENT. 
 
 1. The laws by which leaves are arranged on the stem ap- 
 ply also to the arrangement of branches and thorns, as the 
 latter arise from buds in the axils^ of the leaves. This is one 
 of the most interesting divisions of Botany, especially when 
 the very law that regulates the position of leaves, twigs, and 
 branches is found to prevail in the arrangement and revolu- 
 tions of the planetary worlds, thus plainly indicating that the 
 same Being who clothed the lilies of the field in beauty sur- 
 passing the regaP splendor of Solomon, " made the stars also." 
 
 2. In the arrangement of leaves even mathematical precis- 
 ion is manifest. Observe the leaves of grass, how one is over 
 one side of the stem, and the next on the opposite side, while 
 the third comes directly over the first, and the fourth over 
 the second. When each leaf is thus one halfway round, the 
 arrangement is called alternate. In sedges, and in that pest^ 
 of farmers and gardeners called nut-grass, each leaf is 09ie 
 third the way round the stem from the one below it. 
 
 3. Cherry and apple trees have the leaves and twigs tioo 
 
1st Div. OP . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 
 
 215 
 
 Arrangement of the Leaves 
 of the Cherry. 
 
 fifths of the way round, reckoning from any leaf to the one 
 above it — that is, five leaves appear in a spiral* of two revo- 
 lutions round the stem, and the sixth 
 leaf, which is exactly above the first, 
 commences a new series. In the holly, 
 and a large number of trees, it may be 
 seen that from one leaf to another di- 
 rectly above there are eight spaces be- 
 tween leaves, and that a spiral line pass- 
 ing through the bases^ of the leaf-stems 
 will make just three turns. In this ar- 
 rangement the leaves are three eighths 
 of the circumference of the stem from 
 each other. 
 
 4. In wormwood the leaves are five 
 thirteenths of the circumference apart; 
 in cones of some species of pine-trees twenty-07ie leaves are 
 found in a spiral of eight turns, while in others the leaf dis- 
 tances are thirteen thirty-fourths of the circumference. With 
 a few exceptions, which perhaps may have arisen from the 
 failure of some leaf-germs to be developed, the leaves of each 
 species of plant are arranged at regular distances from each 
 other around the stem, although these distances vary in dif- 
 ferent species. Even in fruits, as in the protuberances^ of 
 the pine-apple, this beautiful order is apparent. The plan 
 seems to have been, amid great diversity "^ of position, to give 
 to each leaf its proper share of air and light, which would 
 not have been attained by a miscellaneous^ arrangement. 
 
 t5. It thus appears that the leaves of plants do not take po- 
 ions as if by chance, starting out here and there at random, 
 but, making their appearance in the lines of regular revolving 
 spirals, they obey definite laws in their arrangement. What 
 is still more curious, a law in all respects similar appears to 
 extend to the solar system itself, and to govern the revolu- 
 tions of the heavenly bodies ; for the same numbers that ex- 
 press the relative distances in the arrangement of leaves of 
 different species around their central stem, denote very near- 
 ly the relative times of the revolutions of the planetary 
 worlds around their central sun. 
 
216 
 
 WILLSON S FOURTH EEADER. 
 
 Part IH. 
 
 6. Thus, regarding Neptune as the most distant of the 
 planets, we find that Uranus,^ the next in order, revolves 
 around the sun, to speak in round numbers, in one half of 
 the time of Neptune ; Saturn in one third of the time of Ura- 
 nus ; Jupiter in two fifths of the time of Saturn ; the Aste- 
 roids, which supply the place of a missing planet, in three 
 eighths of the tijue of Jupiter ; and so on down to Mercury, 
 the planet nearest the sun, whose time of revolution is not 
 far ft'om thirteen thirty fourths of that of Venus, its nearest 
 neighbor. 
 
 7. These numbers singularly corresjDond with those which 
 denote the relative distances of the leaves of different species 
 of trees, shrubs, and herbs, in their Spiral revolutions around 
 the central axis^° of their orbits.^^ When we find the meas- 
 ures used in scanning " the plants, the poetry of earth," and 
 "the stars, the poetry of heaven," to be the same, shall we 
 doubt that one designer planned the whole ?* 
 
 Ax'-iL, the angle, on the upper side, form- 
 ed by a branch with a stem or leaf. 
 RE'-GAL, kingly ; royal. 
 Pest, plague ; any thing veiy troublesome. 
 Spi'-ral, a line that winds like a screw. 
 Ba'-8e», plural of bd'-sis, lower ends ; 
 that on which they rest. 
 Pbo-tu'-bee-an-ce», the little knobs or 
 bunches. 
 
 I' Di-YEE8'-i--fY, variety. 
 
 8 Mi8-cel-la'-me-oc8, irregular; without 
 rule. 
 
 9 U'-ra-nus. 
 
 10 Ax'-i8, 2>lural ax'-es, the central part of 
 a stem ; that around which any thing re- 
 volves. 
 
 11 Orb'-it, the path or track of a revolving 
 body. 
 
 * Explanatory Note. — The following fractions show the distances around the stem 
 from one leaf to another, in different species of plants : 
 
 1123 6 8 1321 
 
 Y) IS-i S"' "B? TS-> TT' Til 5 6- 
 
 In the third fraction in the series, 2 revolutions give 5 leaves ; in the fourth, 3 revolu- 
 tions give 8 leaves, and so on. It will be seen that the sum of any two consecutive nu- 
 merators gives the next numerator. The same is also true of the denominators. Tfag 
 value of each fraction after the second is between ■!• and ^. ^JH^ 
 
 Nentune 60 000 davs ^° ^^^ adjoining table the time of revolnW^ 
 
 '' ' ^ ' 1 of the planets is given in approximate or round 
 
 Uranus 30,000 " =: •5- numbers, and also the fraction or ratio of the 
 
 Saturn 10,000 " :::i: -^ time of one planet to the time of the one exterior 
 
 Jupiter 4,000 " = r, jj. ^y^u -^^ ggg^ that these fractions, which nearly 
 
 Asteroids (near) . 1,500 " = ■§■ represent the ratio of planetary periodical rev- 
 
 ,, -„f» n _ 5 olutions, are the same as those which represent 
 
 '*^*" " ~"nr the law of Phyllotaxif^ or LeaJ' AirangcmerU. 
 
 Earth 365 " ^ • „ The break in the series at the Earth, where the 
 
 Ygjjyg 224 " / ~7il ratio eight twenty-one is that of the year of Venus 
 
 ^ „ to the year of Mars, will be best explained in a 
 
 Mercury 88 " — :j4: subsequent article on Astronomy. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OK BOTAlfY. 21 7 
 
 LESSON xvn. 
 
 VEGETABLE KEPRODUCTION.— FLOWERS. 
 
 1. " God might have made the earth bring forth 
 
 Enough for one and all, 
 The oak-tree and the cedar-tree 
 Without a flower at all. 
 
 2. "He surely might have made enough 
 
 For every want of ours — 
 For luxury, medicine, and toil — 
 And yet have made no flowers." 
 
 3. These verses by Mrs. Hewitt are very pretty, and, in a 
 certain sense, very true ; but, while 
 it is admitted that God might have 
 made and propagated^ the oak-tree 
 and the cedar-tree without flowers, 
 it is manifest^ that he has not chosen 
 to do so. 
 
 4. We read that, Jby Divine com- 
 mand, "the earth brought forth 
 grass, and herb yielding seed after 
 
 his kind, and the tree yielding fruit, ^^ ^^ ^^^ ^-^^ i,i^„, 
 whose seed was in itself, after his 
 kind." The organs^ especially designed to secure the multi- 
 plication or propagation of plants are the flower, fruit, and 
 seed; and they depend on each other in the order in which 
 they are named. 
 
 5. It is true that plants are often multiplied by separation 
 of shoots or buds, which, being complete in themselves, con- 
 stitute an individual plant. Many leaves, as those of the or- 
 ange and fig, may be separated from their stems, and, if care- 
 fully placed in the earth by their petiole* or leaf-stalk, will 
 take root and produce new plants. Dahlias,^ potatoes, and 
 tulips are, propagated from tubers or bulbs ; roses, vines, etc., 
 by cuttings or slips placed in earth; and apples, pears, and 
 quinces by grafting or budding. This is, however, rathei* 
 vegetable continuation and multiplication than reproduc- 
 tion.^ ' • 
 
 K 
 
218 
 
 WILLSON'S FOURTH EEADEK. 
 
 pakt ni. 
 
 6. The flower, which Pliny fancifully called " the joy of the 
 trees," is a peculiar kind of branch, consisting of a peculiar 
 kind of leaves ; and, whatever the laws are of the arrange- 
 ment of branches with respect to each other, the same will 
 regulate the arrangement of flowers. A leaf-bud, starting in 
 all respects apparently like its fellows, becomes changed by 
 some cause of which we are ignorant, although supposed to 
 be by an increased supply of nutriment," and thus what would 
 otherVise have been a branch or a leaf becomes a flower, 
 perhaps of exceeding beauty in coloring, fragrant in odors, 
 and producing a fruit luscious^ to the taste. Similar and 
 equally important changes, which will be hereafter noticed, 
 take place in other departments of Natural History. 
 
 7. A complete flower consists of four parts, or series of or- 
 gans, viz., calyx, corolla,^ stamens, and pistil. (See Fig. 15.) 
 The two former are rather ornamental than essential, as a 
 flower, botanically speaking, can consist of stamens and pis- 
 til alone. Stamens and pistils are the essential^ ^ organs of a 
 flower ; but sometimes there is only one of these present, the 
 other organ being in another blossom on the same plant, as 
 in the Indian corn, where the ear is but half a flower, having 
 for pistils what we commonly call the silk, while the tassel is 
 the other half, containing the stamens. 
 
 8. This mode of flowering is seen in many forest trees, as 
 the oak, beach, chestnut, birch, and walnut. Frequently, 
 also, one half of the flower, or the blossom with one essential 
 organ, is on one plant, and the other organ on another plant. 
 
 Fig. 15. 
 
 The several Parts of a complete Flower. 
 
 Fig. 15 shows the different parts of the flower of the 
 Evening rrimrose, O'Jnothera fniticosa. 
 
 Pe^ Pc, in the drawing on the left, are the petals of the 
 flower, within which are the stamens surrounding the 
 pistil. The calyx, which is at the base of the flower, 
 has been removed, but its four sepals may be seen 
 turned down at «, on the stem at the right. Here the 
 petals have been removed, the better to show the sta- 
 mens, St, and the pistil, Pi. The top of the pistil of 
 this flower is divided into four narrow stigynan; but in 
 many plants it is a mere roundish knob. The letters 
 a a show flie anthem., or knobs on the top of the std- 
 menif. At o is the (/-va-rp, which contains the seed. 
 In many plants the ovary is at the lower end of the 
 pi^^til, within the petals. At ov is shown the ovary, in 
 a more advanced state, cut across. At Pol are shown 
 grains of pollen from the anthers, highly magnified. 
 
1st DiV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 219 
 
 This is the case with the hop, hemp, willow, prickly-ash, and 
 red cedar. 
 
 9. The calyx^ which forms the outermost part of a com- 
 plete flower, consists of one or more leaves, called sepals. 
 Sepals are generally of a green color, and are arranged around 
 the lower part of the flower. The term cdlyx^ or eup^ itself 
 indicates its position to any one who can recall to mind the 
 appearance of a rose-bud. 
 
 10. The corolla, which is in common language called the 
 flower, consists of one or more leaves, termed petals. Petals 
 are really leaves ; but they differ from leaves constituting fo- 
 liage much more than sepals. They are seldom green, but 
 presently the most brilliant colors, and perform but to a very 
 limited extent, if at all, the breathing processes described 
 under the head of leaves. 
 
 11. Corollas are mon-o-pet'-al-ous or pol-y-pet'-al-ous — that 
 is, they have one petal or more than one, according as they 
 consist of one or more leaves. Beyond this distinction flow- 
 ers are variously shaped, presenting to the eye a diversity as 
 interesting in form as in color. Among the mon-o-pet'-al-ous, 
 or one-leaved corollas, we find those that spread out the di- 
 visions of their petal in the form of a salver, others that di- 
 verge like the spokes of a wheel ; some that, like the morn- 
 ing-glory, are shaped like a tunnel ; some that are bell-form- 
 ed ; and others that, like the sage and snapdragon, are call 
 ed labiate^ or lip flowers, from their resemblance to the lips 
 and mouth of animals. 
 
 12. The pol-y-pet'-al-ous, or many-leaved corollas, exhibit 
 a stiU greater variety of forms. Among these may be men- 
 tioned those which, like the pea-blossom, are said to be but- 
 terfly-shaped, because they resemble the wings of a butterfly ; 
 those which 'resemble the lily, the rose, or the pink ; those 
 which are bell-formed, and salver-shaped, and wheel-shaped ; 
 and those which, as the cabbage, mustard, turnip, and wall- 
 flowers, are called cross-shaped^ because their four petals are 
 in the form of a cross. The seeds of all plants which have 
 cross-shaped corollas are arranged in a kind of pod ; and they 
 are distinguished from other seeds by containing sulphur, the 
 chemical effect of which is seen when a silver spoon is used 
 
220 willson's fourth BEADEE. Part III. 
 
 with mustard. The names of the principal forms of flowers 
 are given in the explanation below. 
 
 13. But, besides those which have been mentioned, there 
 are many very irregular flowers, such as the violet, colum- 
 bine, ^^ and nasturtion. Formerly the term nectary was ap- 
 plied to petals of unusual shape, especially when the flowers 
 were much frequented by bees ; but this term is not now 
 used by botanists as applicable to any distinct organ or part. 
 Sometimes the general term perianth}'^ is given to the leaves 
 of a flower when they are not readily distinguished as sej^als 
 or petals. 
 
 14. We know not the causes which dispose^'^ the parts of 
 some buds to become sepals, petals, etc., while others become 
 leaves ; but a flower is always prepared in the centre of a 
 bud, or embosomed among its leaves a long time before they 
 expand. In general a flower is formed rapidly, a few months 
 at most being sufficient to pass it through all its stages of 
 growth. In certain palms^ however, some years appear to be 
 required ; and it is said that the rudiments^^ of a flower may 
 be discovered in the bud of a palm as many as seven years, 
 in some instances, before the perfect flower expands.^^ 
 
 15. While annuals^*^ flower in a few weeks after their seeds 
 are sown, biennials^^ demand some months, perennials^^ a 
 longer time, and trees several years. Some, again, blossom in 
 the winter, as the Christmas rose and the fragrant geranium ; 
 others in the earliest spring, as the snowdrop and the crocus ; 
 while others can not be made, by any known artificial means, 
 to advance their time of flowering even a few weeks. 
 
 16. A great diflerencc is also observable in the hours at 
 
 The principal Forms of Flowers^ mth their Names. 
 3 
 
 1. The flower called Phlox is salver-shaped ; the bolauical term for whicli ia hy-pn. 
 cra-ter' -i-fom\,. 2. Woody Nightshade ; wheel-shaped, or ro'-We. 3. Tobacco ; fun- 
 nel-shaped, or in-fun-dib' -u-li'form. 4. Canterbury Bell; bell-shaped, or cam-pan' -u- 
 late. 5. Mustard ; cross-shaped, or cru'-ci-form. 6. Pink ; pink-shaped, or cnr-y-o- 
 phi/l-ld'-eeous. 1. Lily ; lily-like, or lil-i-d'-ceons. 8. Catnip, Sage, etc. ; lip-shaped, 
 or id'-bi-ate. 9. Pea, Bean, etc. ; butterfly-shaped, or 2>a-2nlio-nd'-ceott3. 
 
1st Div. OF .. VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTAISTY. 221 
 
 which they open their blossoms. One expands at dawn of 
 day ; another species a few hours later ; a third at midday ; 
 some in the early evening ; and others, like the night-bloom- 
 ing cereus, when darkness has estabhshed her dominion. 
 Hence what are called the watches^ or dials of the flowers^ 
 have been constructed — tables in which every hour of the 
 day is filled up by the opening of some flower. ^^^^^,^^ (^^^j/^^^^y^-. 
 
 17. " 'Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours, /h^ J^^^vj/y^^ 
 
 As they floated in light away, J^ ' ^^P^ 
 
 ♦ By the opening and the folding flowers. 
 That laugh to the summer's day. 
 
 ♦' Thus had each moment its oi^ rich hue. 
 And its graceful cup and bell, 
 " In whose color'd vase might sleep the dew. 
 
 Like a pearl in an ocean shell." Hemans. 
 
 1 8. In all their vast variety of size, and form, and color ; 
 in the various odors which they exhale f^ in their wide dis- 
 persion throughout all climes ; in their periods of repose ; in 
 their hours and seasons of blossoming and decay; and in 
 their very frailty, flowers speak to the heart a varied lan- 
 guage — a language that appeals to every condition and cir- 
 cumstance in Hfe; they are full of A^truction; and they 
 cheer man's pathway from the cradle to the grave. 
 
 1 Peop'-a-gI-ted, cauaed to multiply or in- 
 crease. 
 
 2 Man'-i-fest, plain; evident. 
 
 3 Or'-gans, the parts which perform the 
 offices mentioned. 
 
 * Pet'-i-ole, the foot-stalk of a leaf. 
 
 * Dah'-lia (dahl'-yah). 
 
 8 Re-pbo-i>u€'-tion, the act of producing 
 anew. 
 
 7 NC-TKi-MENT, food \ that which nourishes. 
 
 8 Lus'-ciotrs (lush'-us), delicious. 
 
 9 €o-kot/-l,a, the flower-leaves. 
 
 10 Es-sen'-tial, necessary ; those •which 
 constitute the flower. ' 
 
 u Pre-»ent', offer to the eye. 
 
 12 -Col'-um-bTnb. 
 
 13 Pee'-i-anth; it means, "about the flow- 
 er." 
 
 1* Dis-po.te', cause or occasion. 
 
 15 R0'-Di-MENT8, the beginnings ; germs. 
 
 16 Ex-PANi)tB', opens. 
 
 17 An'-nC-als, plants that live but one 
 summer. 
 
 18 Bi-bn'-ni-als, that continue two years. 
 
 19 Pee-en'-ni-als, that continue more than 
 two years. 
 
 20 Ex hale', send forth ; emit. 
 
 LESSON xvm. 
 
 HYMN TO THE FLOWERS. 
 1 . Ye bright mosaics' !^ that with storied^ beauty 
 The floor of Nature's temple tesselate',^ 
 What numerous emblems of instructive duty 
 Your forms create^ ! 
 
222 
 
 WILLSON'S FOTJETH READER. 
 
 Part IIT. 
 
 2. 'Neath cloistered'^ boughs, each floral bell that swingeth 
 
 And tolls its perfume on the passing air', 
 Makes Sabbath in the fields\ and ever ringeth 
 A call to prayer^ ; 
 
 3. Not to the domes^ where crumbling arch and column 
 
 Attest^ the feebleness of mortal hand', 
 But to that fane,''' most catholic^ and solemn. 
 Which God hath planned^ ; 
 
 4. To that cathedral,^ boundless as our wonder, * 
 
 Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply\ 
 Its choir^o the windf^ and waves\ its organ thunder'. 
 Its dome' the sky\ 
 
 5. There, as in solitude and shade I wander 
 
 Through the green aisles,^i or, stretched upon the sod, 
 Awed by the silence, reverently ponder^- 
 The ways of God' — 
 
 6. Your voiceless lips, O flowers ! are living preachers^ 
 
 Each cup a pulpit'', and each leaf a book\ 
 Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers 
 Fr^n loneliest nook.^^ 
 
 V. Floral apostles' I^* tnat in dewy splendor 
 
 "Weep without woe, and blush without a crime','' 
 O may I deeply learn, and ne'er surrender, 
 Your lore^**^ sublime. 
 
 8. Were I, O God' ! in churchless lands remaining', 
 Far from all voice of teachers or divines', 
 My soul would find, in flowers of thy ordaining'. 
 Priests, sermons, shrines\ 
 
 Horace Smith. 
 
 1 Mo-sa'-ics, a collection of little pieces of 
 glass, marble, etc., of various colors, join- 
 ed together so as to represent the colors 
 of painting. The flowers are here called 
 w.osav8. 
 
 2 " Sto'-ried beau'-ty" (std'-rid), a beauty 
 that speaks ; furnished with stories. 
 
 3 Tes'-bkl-ate, cover with a mosaic work 
 of flowers. 
 
 ♦ €loi8'-tebei>i pertaining to a monastery; 
 secluded. 
 
 5 I^oMES, cathedrals ; places of worship. 
 
 * .\t-tkkt', show; jirove; make plain. 
 
 7 Fane, a temple ; a place of worship. 
 
 9 €ATu'-o-ufi, liberal ; designed to em. 
 
 brace all ; not bigoted. 
 9 Ca-txie'-dral, a grand church or placn 
 
 of worship. 
 
 10 €noiR (quire), a collection of singers in 
 a church. 
 
 11 ATbles (lies), walks or passages in a 
 church. 
 
 12 I'oN'-DER, think of; reflect upon. 
 
 13 NoQK, a corner. 
 
 1* A-po8'-TLE8 (a-pos'-ls), preachers. 
 "^ Tj<>ie. learning; lessons; his>truotion. 
 
1st Div. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 223 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 
 VEGETABLE REFRODVCTIOIS^ Continued. 
 
 STAMENS, PISTIL, FRUIT, AND SEEDS. 
 
 1. The stamens are situated, in a complete flower, next 
 within the corolla. A perfect stamen consists of two parts, 
 anther and filament. The former is analogous^ to the blade 
 of a leaf, and the latter to the stem. In ^. .^ 
 some cases stamens are changed mto pet- . J[(K a 1 1 /? «, 
 als by cultivation, as is seen when what are | wl] jll| J i 
 called single flowers become double. The W w w w ^Jmens! 
 common white pond-lily affords a srood il- Gradual change of sta- 
 
 . o n 1 1 n • ™^^^ ^°*<^ Leaves. 
 
 lustration^ oi the change oi stamens mto 
 
 petals. ThQ same may be traced in double roses, buttercups, 
 
 and most double flowers. 
 
 2. The top of the stamen, called the anther, is almost al- 
 ways yellow, and contains a yellow powder, called pollen, 
 which, falling upon the pistil, presently to be described, 
 causes the development^ of the germs and the formation of 
 the seed. When the stamens and the pistil grow on different 
 plants, each forming only half of a perfect flower, it is neces- 
 sary that the plants should grow near each other, so that the 
 pollen, wafted by the wind, may reach the other half of the 
 flower, or no seed will be formed. 
 
 3. The PISTIL occupies the centre of the flower, being sur- 
 rounded by the stamens and petals. Its parts are three, 
 ovary, style, and stigma. The ovary occupies the lower 
 part, and incloses a cavity in which the germs of the seed 
 are developed, and finally matured into fruit. The style is 
 usually in the form of a slender thread or column, tapering 
 up from the ovary. The stigma, which is the upper part or 
 termination of the style, receives the pollen from the anthers, 
 and communicates'* with the germ through a tube in the style. 
 
 4. The term fkuit is much more extensive in its applica- 
 tion, speaking botanically, than in common language. The 
 name is given to the enlarged ovary containing the seed, and 
 consists of two parts, the seed and its covering. Fruits, like 
 flowers, exhibit a great variety of forms; for, while some are 
 
224 WILLSOn's fourth reader. Part III. 
 
 soft and fleshy, others are hard and stone-like, and some are 
 dry ; some grow in irregular masses, like the blackberry, and 
 others in a multiple^ form, like the mulberry and the pine- 
 cone. 
 
 5. The SEED is the reservoir^ of the most nutritious part 
 of the vegetable, often containing twenty times, more nour- 
 ishing material than any other part of the plant. As might 
 therefore be expected, a great portion of the food of man and 
 animals consists of seeds. The quantity of Indian com raised 
 annually in the United States is about six hundred million 
 bushels, and probably there is an equal quantity of other 
 grains. Besides, large quantities of seeds are raised for the 
 purpose of making various oils. In fact, the farmer is main- 
 ly engaged in collecting a practically useful herbarium^ with- 
 in his barns and granaries ; and he ought, of all men, to feel 
 an interest in botanical knowledge. 
 
 6. The value of agricultural products in the United States 
 for the year 1850 was estimated at one billion six hundred 
 million dollars, all of which came out of the earth or its at- 
 mosphere in the form of vegetation. It is true that wool, 
 live-stock, milk, and butter, are included; but the whole 
 passed through the laboratory^ of vegetable life. About five 
 hundred million dollars worth of the above products was 
 composed of various seeds or grains. The land cultivated to 
 produce such an enormous product was less than one hund- 
 red million acres. 
 
 7. The periods of germination® of seeds are various. Some, 
 as oats, rye, and wheat, will germinate, under favorable cir- 
 cumstances, in a single day ; while mustard, turnip, and the 
 bean require three days. Lettuce requires four days ; melon 
 and cucumber seeds germinate in five days, barley in seven, 
 cabbage in ten, and parsley in fifteen days. The almond and 
 peach require a year; and many seeds of trees do not germi- 
 nate under two years. 
 
 8. The mtality'^^ of seeds is wonderful. It has been re- 
 lated, and extensively copied, that healthy plants of wheat 
 have been raised from grains found in a mummy case not less 
 than three thousand years old. A recent and valuable book 
 asserts that, "had the wheat crop been at any time entirely 
 
1st DlV. OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OR BOTANY. 225 
 
 destroyed, this invaluable grain would have been restored to 
 us from seeds preserved for more than three thousand years 
 in the folds of an Egyptian mummy." But Prof. Asa Gray, 
 an eminent American botanist, says " that the asserted cases 
 of such germination^ will not bear examination; and that 
 those best qualified to judge utterly disbelieve not only the 
 asserted fact, but also the possibility of any such occurrence." 
 
 9. At the Dublin meeting of the British Association, Dr. 
 Steel stated that he had planted many seeds obtained from 
 Egyptian mummies, but always failed to obtain any indica- 
 tions^^ of their vitality.^^ But Dr. Moore, of the Dublin Bo- 
 tanic Garden, related an instance in which he had succeeded 
 in producing a new species of leguminous^^ plant from the 
 seeds obtained from a vase discovered in an Egyptian tomb. 
 
 10. It is not certain that the seeds planted by Dr. Moore 
 were as old as he supposed, but it is well known that the seeds 
 of leguminous^2 plants, such as beans and peas, will retain their 
 vitality 10 about fifty years, and that various seeds of grasses 
 germinate^ after a period of eight years. Seeds packed in 
 air-tight cans soon lose their vitality. They seem to keep 
 best wrapped up in brown paper, or other porous^^ material. 
 
 11. It is often related that strange plants spring up in earth 
 that has been removed from far below the surface in digging 
 wells. One instance which has found its way into the books 
 is the following. In Maine, some well-diggers were sinking 
 a well at a distance of forty miles from the sea; when at the 
 depth of twenty feet they found a stratum^* of sand, similar to 
 that of the sea-beach, but unlike any known in the vicinity of 
 the well. 
 
 12. The sand was scattered about on the soil, and in a year 
 or two a great number of small trees appeared where the 
 sand had been strewn.^^ The trees were difierent from any 
 growing in the neighborhood, but like trees growing on the 
 sea-shore. It was supposed that these trees, known as the 
 beach plum, must have sprung up from seeds which were in 
 the stratum^* of sea-sand, and had remained dormant^^ till 
 brought to the surface. 
 
 13. At a meeting of the British Association, Dr. Cleghom 
 stated that after the burning or clearing of a forest in India, 
 
 K2 
 
226 WILLSON'S FOURTH READER. Part III. 
 
 invariably there sprung np a new set of plants, before un- 
 known in that locality. It is well known, also, that in many 
 parts of this country, when recent forest clearings are burned 
 over, there soon springs up a peculiar grass not previously 
 found in the vicinity. How came the seeds there? where 
 did they dwell before the clearing ? That the embryo^' plant 
 should survive so long as well-authenticated facts establish, is 
 truly wonderful, though perhaps it is no more wonderful than 
 that it should exist at all. The following lines beautifully ex- 
 press the mysteries of seed life. 
 
 14. "Mark our ways, how noiseless 
 
 All, and sweetly voiceless, 
 Though the March winds pipe^^ to make our passage clear; 
 
 Not a whisper tells 
 
 Where our small seed dwells, 
 Nor is known the moment green when our tips appear. 
 
 We thread the earth in silence. 
 
 In silence build our bowers, 
 And leaf by leaf in silence show, till we laugh atop sweet flowers." 
 
 15. The same writer, in comparing flowers with fables^ 
 which are instructive and, amusing stories, gives the prefer- 
 ence to the former, as they are not only more true, and equal- 
 ly loved, but they spring up by every old pathway, and are 
 " marvels sweet forever." 
 
 "O! true things are fables, ^ 
 
 Fit for sagest tables. 
 And the flowers are true things, yet no fables they ; 
 
 Fables were not more 
 
 Bright, nor loved of yore ; 
 Yet they grew not, like the flowers, by every old pathway ; 
 
 Grossest hand can test us. 
 
 Fools may prize us never, 
 Yet we rise, and rise, and rise — marvels sweet forever." 
 
 Leigh IIcnt. 
 
 9 6eb-mi-nI'-tion, the act of sprouting. 
 
 10 Vi-tal'-i-ty, power of maintaining life. 
 
 11 In-di-€a'-tions, signs ; tokens. 
 
 12 Le-gO'-mi-notjs, pod-bearing. 
 
 13 P0'-ROU8, loose ; open ; having pores or 
 small openings. 
 
 1* Stra'-tum, a thin layer. 
 
 1* Strewn (pronounced strr^n). 
 
 16 D6r'-mant, in a sleeping stata 
 
 1'' ftM'-BRY-o, pertaining to tlic rudimc';i3 
 
 or beginnings of any thing. 
 18 PTpk, whistle. 
 
 1 A-NAt,'-o-GOU8, similar to ; like. 
 
 2 Il-lu8-tba'-tion, explanation. 
 
 3 De-vei.'-op-ment, opening; unfolding; 
 growth. 
 
 * '■'•OoM-MC'-Ni-CATESwiTn," has the mcans 
 
 of passing to. 
 6 " MCl'-ti-ple form," in series of uniform 
 
 numbers. 
 6 Rf.»-eb-voir', store-honse ; receptacle, 
 "> IIer-ha'-bi-um, a collection of dried plants. 
 8 Lab'-o-ra-to-ey, a workihop; place for 
 
 chemical operations. 
 
IstDlV.OF. .VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OB BOTAITT. 
 
 227 
 
 LESSON" XX. 
 
 FLOWERS, THE STARS OF EARTH. 
 
 1. Spake full well, in language quaint^ and olden, 
 
 One who dwell eth by the castled Rhine, 
 When he called the flowers', so blue and golden' 
 Stars\ that in earth's firmament do shine. 
 
 2. Stars they are, wherein we read our history, 
 
 As astrologers^ and seers^ of eld ;* 
 Yet not wrapped about with awful mystery, 
 Like the burning stars which they beheld'. 
 
 3. Wondrous truths, and manifold^ as wondrous, 
 
 God hath written in those stars above ; 
 But not less in the bright flowerets^ under us 
 Stands the revelation"^ of his love. 
 
 4. Bright and glorious is that revelation, 
 
 Writ all over this great world of ours — 
 Making evident our own creation. 
 
 In these stars of earth, these golden flowers. 
 
228 
 
 WILLSON 8 FOURTH READER. 
 
 Part III. 
 
 - 5. Every where about us are they glowing- 
 Some, like stars, to tell us spring is born ; 
 Others, their blue eyes with tears o'erflowing, 
 Stand, like Ruth, amid the golden com. 
 
 6. Not alone in Spring's armoriaF bearing,^ 
 
 And in Summer's green-emblazoned^ ^ field, 
 But in arms of brave old Autumn's wearing. 
 In the centre of his brazen shield ; 
 
 7. Not alone in meadows and green alleys, 
 
 On the mountain top, and by the brink 
 Of sequestered^^ pools in woodland valleys. 
 Where the slaves of Nature stoop to drink ; 
 
 8. Not alone in her vast dome of glory. 
 
 Not on graves of bird and beast alone, 
 But in old cathedrals, high and hoary. 
 On the tombs of heroes carved in stone ; 
 
 9. In the cottage of the rudest peasant' ; 
 
 In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers, 
 Speaking of the Past unto the Present, 
 Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers. 
 
 10. In all places, then, and in all seasons. 
 
 Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, 
 Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, 
 How akini2 ij^qj ^re to human things. 
 
 11. And with childlike, credulous^^ afioction. 
 
 We behold their tender buds expand — 
 
 Emblems^'* of our own great resurrection. 
 
 Emblems of the bright and better land. 
 
 Qc-Ajwr, odd ; strange. 
 As-TBoiZ-o-GEB, one who pretends to fore- 
 tell events by the appearances of the stars. 
 Skeks, prophets. 
 Eld, olden times. 
 
 Man'-i-folt), various ; many in number. 
 Fi.ow'-EB-ET8, little flowers. 
 Rev-k-la'-tion, the act of making kno^vn 
 to otlipi-a what was nnkncwn to thom. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 8 Ab-m5'-ri-al, belonging to or having the 
 appearance of armor. 
 
 9 Bkak'-ings, the figures on armor, or on 
 coats of amis. 
 
 »" Km-i5laz'-oned, adorned with armorial 
 figures. 
 
 11 Se-qdes'-tere©, sechided ; retired. 
 
 12 A -kin', like; related. 
 
 13 €REr)'-rr-LOU8, easily believing. 
 
 '^ Fm'-hlemu, piotnrea'er roprcsontatioiw. 
 
1st Dl#OF . . VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY, OB BOTAITT. 229 
 
 LESSON XX^i. 
 DISPERSION OF SEEDS. 
 
 1. There are many curious provisions^ for the dispersion 
 of seeds, the evident design of which is that no portion of 
 the earth shall be destitute of vegetation. Many seeds, Uke 
 those of the maple, are winged^ or furnished with lateral^ ex- 
 pansions^ to catch the wind, and thus 
 are blown to places remote* from where 
 ^they grew. The small seed of the dan- 
 delion is carried by a long 
 and light stem, at one end 
 of which numerous feathery 
 fibres spread out like an um- 
 brella. The down of this- 
 tles, which floats so easily in the air, carries the 
 seed to great distances. 
 
 2. Some seeds, having a shelly or an oily cov- 
 ering that can resist the action of water, are borne by the 
 waves to the distant islands of the sea. Many seeds are de- 
 stroyed, but the number produced is beyond conjecture. A 
 single stalk of tobacco may produce one hundred and sixty 
 thousand seeds ; and an elm-tree has been estimated to have 
 more than six hundred thousand. 
 
 3. There is, apparently, a prodigahty^ of flowers and seeds. 
 It is believed by physiologists^ th^at those parts of the fungi"^ 
 or flowerless plants, such as rust, mildew, and mushrooms, 
 which answer to the seeds of other plants, are universally dif- 
 fused through the atmosphere, ready to vegetate^ whenever 
 an opportunity presents itself, and that every fungus plant 
 may produce not less than ten milHon germs. The vast ex- 
 tent of vegetable life, and the care which Nature has taken 
 for its preservation, are thus happily described by an English 
 poet: 
 
 4. " Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild, 
 O'er all the deep green earth, beyond the power 
 Of botanist to number up their tribes. 
 Whether ho steals along the lonely dale," 
 
230 
 
 WTLLSON'S FOURTH READER. 
 
 Irt ni. 
 
 In silent search, or through the forest, rank 
 With what the dull incurious^" weeds account/^ 
 Bursts his blind jgaj ; or climbs the mountain rock, 
 Fired^^ by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
 6. With such a liberal hand has Nature flung 
 
 Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 
 Innumerous^^ mixed them with the nursing mould. 
 The moistening current, and prolific^* rain. 
 The kind, impartial care 
 Of Nature naught disdains ; thoughtful to feed 
 Her lowest sons, and clothe the coming year, 
 ^ From field to field, the feathered seeds she wings." 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 6. Birds, beasts, and insects aid in the dispersion of seeds, 
 so that whether a Delos^^ rises in a night from beneath the 
 waters, or the coral terraces^^ "spring up to the crested 
 wave," it is but a short time before 
 
 "The tuif looks green where the breakers" rolled," 
 and the recent island is fitted for the habitation of man. 
 
 7. " Seeds to our eyes invisible, will find 
 
 On the rude rock the bed that fits their kind. 
 
 There in the rugged soil they safely dwell, 
 
 Till showers and snows the subtle^^ atoms swell, 
 
 And spread th' enduring foliage ; then we trace 
 
 The freckled flower upon the flinty base ; 
 
 These all increase, till in unnoted years 
 
 The stony tower as gray with age appears, 
 
 With coats of vegetation thinly spread. 
 
 Coat above coat, the living on the dead. 
 
 These then dissolve to dust, and make a way 
 
 For bolder foliage, nursed by their decay : 
 
 The long-enduring ferns in time will all 
 
 Die and depose their dust upon the wall ; 
 
 Where the wing'd seed may rest, till many a flower 
 
 Shows Flora's^ ^ triumph o'er the falling tower." 
 
 1 Peo-vi"-8ions, thinga provided. 
 
 a l^AT'-EE-Ai., proceeding from the side, as 
 
 the wing8 of the maple seed. 
 3 1;x-pan'-sion», parts that spread out. 
 
 * Ue-mote', distant. 
 
 * I'kod-i-gal'-i-ty, needless abundance. 
 
 6 I'iiT$-i-(5i/-0-(;i8T, one acquainted with 
 the science of plants and animals. 
 
 ' FCn'-gi, the plural of fin'-gus. 
 
 8 Vku'-e-tate, to sprout ; grow like a plant 
 
 s Dale, a vale ; place between hills. 
 
 10 Tn-€C'-ri-ocs, inattentive; not having 
 curiosity. 
 
 1 1 A€-€OtiNT', think ; consider ; regard. 
 '2 FTb'ei), animated ; encouraged. 
 13 In-nu'-mee-ou8, too many to be counted. 
 1* Pko-lTf'-io, fertilizing ; causing to grow. 
 1* Dk-i.os', an island that was fabled to 
 
 have arisen unexpectedly out of the sea. 
 1^ " €or'-al, tee'-ka-oe8," islands built by 
 
 coral insects. 
 
 17 Bre.\k'-eb», waves broken by rocks or 
 shoals. 
 
 18 SuiJT'-LE (snt'tl), very small ; difficult of 
 detection. 
 
 19 FlO'-ra, the goddess of floTrrrs. 
 
Pakt IV. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 231 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 LESSON I. 
 
 BETTER THAN DIAMONDS. 
 
 1. I WAS standing in the broad, crowded street of a large 
 city. It was a cold winter's day. There had been rain ; and 
 although the sun had been shining brightly, yet the long ici- 
 cles hung from the eaves of the houses, and the wheels rum- 
 bled loudly, as they passed over the ground. There was a 
 clear, bright look, and a cold, bracing feeling in the air, and 
 a keen northwest wind, which quickened every step. 
 
 2. Just then a little child came running along — a poor, ill- 
 clad^ child ; her clothes w^ere scant^ and threadbare ; she had 
 no cloak and no shawl, and her little bare feet looked red and 
 suffering. She could not have been more than eight years 
 old. She carried a bundle in her hand. Poor little shiver- 
 ing child ! I pitied her. As she passed me her foot slipped, 
 
232 WILLSON's fourth KEADER. Part IY. 
 
 and she fell with a cry of pain ; but she held the bundle tight- 
 ly in her hand, and, jumping up, although she limped sadly, 
 endeavored to run as before. 
 
 3. " Stop ! little girl, stop !" said a sweet voice ; and a 
 beautiful woman, wrapped in a huge shawl and with furs 
 around her, came out of a jeweler's store close by. " Poor 
 little child," she said, " are you hurt' ? Sit down on this step 
 and tell me." 
 
 How I loved her, and how beautiful she looked ! 
 
 " Oh, I can not," said the little child, " I can not wait — I 
 am in such a hurry. I have been to the shoemaker's, and 
 mother must finish this work to-night, or she will never get 
 any more shoes to bind." 
 
 4. "To-night'?" said the beautiful woman, "to-night'?" 
 
 " Yes," said the child, for the stranger's kind manner had 
 made her bold, " yes, for the great ball to-night ; and these 
 satin slippers must be spangled ; and — " 
 
 The beautiful woman took the bundle from the child's 
 hand and unrolled it. You do not know why her face flush- 
 ed, and then turned pale ; but I, yes I, looked into the bun- 
 dle, and on the inside of a slipper I saw a name — a lady's 
 name written, but I shall not tell it; 
 
 " And where does your mother live, little girl ?" 
 
 5. So the child told her where ; and then she told her that 
 her father was dead, and that her little brother was sick, and 
 that her mother bound shoes that they might have bread ; 
 but that sometimes they were very cold, and that her moth- 
 er sometimes cried because she had no money to buy milk 
 for her little brother. And then I saw that the lady's eyes 
 were full of tears ; and she rolled up the bundle quickly, and 
 gave it back to the Httle girl ; and, turning away, went back 
 into the store from which she had just come out. As she 
 went away I saw the glitter of a diamond pin. Presently 
 she came back, and, stepping into a handsome carriage, rolled 
 off. The little girl looked after her a moment, and then, with 
 her little bare feet colder than they were before, ran quick- 
 ly away. 
 
 6. I followed the little girl to a narrow damp street, and 
 into a small dark room ; I there saw her mother — her sad, 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 233 
 
 faded mother,' but with a face so sweet, so patient — hushing 
 and soothing a sick baby. And the baby slept, and the 
 mother laid it on her lap ; and the bundle was unrolled, and 
 a dim candle helped her with her work ; for though it was 
 not night, yet her room was very dark. Then, after a while, 
 she kissed her little girl, and bade her warm her poor frozen 
 feet over the scanty fire in the grate, and gave her a little 
 piece of bread, for she had no more ; and then she heard her 
 say her evening prayer, and folded her tenderly to her bosom, 
 blessed her, and told her that the angels would take care of 
 her. 
 
 V. And the little child slept and dreamed — oh ! such pleas- 
 ant dreams — of warm stockings and new shoes; but the 
 mother sewed alone, and as the bright spangles glittered on 
 the satin slippers, came there no repining^ into the heart ? 
 When she thought of her child's bare, cold feet, and of the 
 scant morsel of dry bread, that had not satisfied her hunger, 
 came there visions of a bright room and gorgeous* clothing, 
 and a table loaded with all that was good, a little portion of 
 which spared to her would give warmth and comfort to her 
 humble dwelling ? 
 
 8. If such thoughts came, and -others, o^lPpleasant cottage, 
 and of one who had dearly loved her, and whose strong arm 
 had kept want and trouble from her and her babes, but w^ho 
 could never come back — if these thoughts did come repining- 
 ly, there also came another; and the widow's hands were 
 clasped, and her head bowed low in deep contrition,^ as I 
 heard her say, " Father, forgive me, for thou doest all things 
 well, and I will trust to thee." 
 
 9. Just then the door opened softly, and some one entered. 
 Was it an angel? Her dress was spotless white, and she 
 moved with a noiseless step. She went to the bed where the 
 sleeping child lay, and covered it with soft, warm blankets. 
 Then presently a fire sparkled and blazed there, such as the 
 little grate had never known before. Then a huge loaf was 
 placed upon the table, and fresh milk for the sick babe. 
 
 10. Then she passed gently before the mother, and, draw- 
 ing the unfinished slipper from her hand, placed there a purse 
 of gold, and said, in a voice like music, " Bless thy God, who 
 
234 willson's fourth reader. Pabt IV. 
 
 is the God of the fatherless and the widow !" and she was 
 gone, only as she went out I heard her say, "Better than 
 diamonds — better than diamonds !" Whom could she mean ? 
 I looked at the mother. With dasped hands and streaming 
 eyes she blessed her God, who had sent an angel to comfort 
 her. 
 
 11. So I went too; and I went to a bright room, where 
 were music and dancing, and sweet flowers ; and I saw the 
 young, happy faces of those who were there, and beautiful 
 dresses sparkling with jewels ; but none that I knew, until 
 one passed me whose dress was of simple white, with only a 
 rose-bud on her bosom, and whose voice was like the sweet 
 sound of a silver lute.^ No spangled slipper was on her foot ; 
 but she moved as one that treadeth upon the air, and the di- 
 vine beauty of holiness had so glorified her face, that I felt, 
 as I gazed upon her, that ehe was almost an angel of God. 
 
 Anoni/mous. 
 
 1 lLL-eLA.D, poorly clad. 
 
 2 Scant, too small, 
 
 3 IJe-pIn'-ing, complaining ; murmuring. 
 
 * Gor'-';eotjs, showy; splendid. 
 
 5 €oN-TBi'-TiON, peuitonce ; sorrow. 
 
 6 LCte, an instrument of music with strings 
 
 ^ LESSON n. 
 
 ABRAM AND ZIMRI. 
 
 1. Abeam and Zimri owned a field together — 
 A level field hid in a happy vale. 
 
 They plowed it with one plow, and in the 6|pring 
 Sowed, walking side by side, the fruitful seed. 
 In harvest, when the glad earth smiled with grain, 
 Each carried to his home one half the sheaves. 
 And stored them with much labor in his barns. 
 Now Abram had a wife and seven sons. 
 But Zimri dwelt alone within his house. 
 
 2. One night, before the sheaves were gathered in. 
 As Zimri lay upon his lonely bed. 
 
 And counted in his mind his little gains, 
 He thought upon his brother Abram's lot, 
 And said, " I dwell alone within my house, 
 But Abram hath a wife and seven sons, 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 235 
 
 And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike : 
 He surely needeth more for life than I ; 
 I will arise, and gird myself, and go 
 Down to the field, and add to his from mine." 
 
 3. So he arose, and girded up his loins, 
 And went out softly to the level field. 
 
 The moon shone out from dusky bars of clouds, 
 The trees stood black against the cold blue ^ky. 
 The branches waved, and whispered in the wind. 
 So Zimri, guided by the shifting light. 
 Went down the naountain path, and found the field. 
 Took from his store of sheaves a generous third. 
 And bore them gladly to his brother's heap, 
 And then went back to sleep and happy dreams. 
 
 4. Now, that same night, as Abram lay in bed. 
 Thinking upon his blissful state in life. 
 
 He thought upon his brother Zimri's lot. 
 
 And said, " He dwells within his house alone. 
 
 He goeth forth to toil with few to help. 
 
 He goeth home at night to a-xjold house. 
 
 And hath few other friends but me and mine" 
 
 (For these two tilled the happy vale alone) ; 
 
 " While I, whom Heaven hath very greatly blessed. 
 
 Dwell happy with my wife and seven sons. 
 
 Who aid me in my toil, and make it light. 
 
 And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike. 
 
 This surely is not pleasing unto God. 
 
 I will arise, and gird myself, and go 
 
 Out to the field, and borrow from my store. 
 
 And add unto my brother Zimri's pile." 
 
 6. So he arose, and girded up his loins. 
 And went down softly to the level field. 
 The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds. 
 The trees stood black against the starry sky. 
 The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze. 
 So Abram, guided by the doubtful light. 
 Passed down the mountain path, and found the field, 
 
236 WILLSON's fourth reader. Paet IV. 
 
 Took from his store of sheaves a generous third, 
 And added them unto his brother's heap ; 
 Then he went back to sleep and happy dreams. 
 
 6. So the next morning with the early sun 
 The brothers rose, and went out to their toil. 
 And when they came to see the heavy sheaves, 
 Each wondered in his heart to find his heap, 
 Though he had given a third, was still the same. 
 
 V. Now the next night went Zimri to the field, 
 Took from his store of sheaves S generous share. 
 And placed them on his brother Abram's heap, 
 And then lay down behind his pile to watch. 
 The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud, 
 The cedars stood up black against the sky, 
 The olive-branches whispered in the wind. 
 
 8. Then Abram came down softly from his home, 
 And, looking to the left and right, went on. 
 Took from his ample store a generous third. 
 And laid it on his brother Zimri's pile. 
 Then Zimri rose, and caught him in his arms. 
 And wept upon his neck, and kissed his cheek ; 
 And Abram saw the whole, and could not speak ; 
 Neither could Zimri, for their hearts were full. 
 
 Clarence Cook 
 
 LESSON III. 
 
 SORROW FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 1. The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which 
 we refuse to be divorced.^ Every other wound we seek to 
 heal, every other afiiiction to forget ; but this wound we con- 
 sider it a duty to keep open ; this afiiiction we cherish and 
 brood over in solitude. 
 
 2. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the 
 infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though 
 every recollection is a pang^ ? Where is the child that would 
 
Pakt IV. MISCELLAl^^EOUS. 237 
 
 willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to re- 
 member be but to lament^ ? Who, even in the hour of agony, 
 would forget the friend over whom he mourns^ ? Who, even 
 when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most 
 loved, when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the clos- 
 ing of its portal, would accept of consolation that must be 
 bought by forgetfulness^ ? 
 
 3. No ; the love which survives the tomb is one of the no- 
 blest attributes^ of the soul. If it has its woes', it has like- 
 wise its delights^ ; and when the overwhelming burst of grief 
 is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection', when the sud- 
 den anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins 
 of all that we most loved is softened away into pensive med- 
 itation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness', who 
 would root out such a sorrow from the heart^ ? 
 
 4. Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over 
 the bright hour- of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over 
 the hour of gloom', yet who would exchange it even for the 
 song of pleasure or the burst of revelry^ ? No ; there is a 
 voice from the tomb sweeter than son^. There is a remem- 
 brance of the dead, to which we turn even from the charms 
 of the living. 
 
 5. O, the grave ! the grave ! It buries every error\ cov- 
 ers every defect\ extinguishes every resentment\ From its 
 peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender rec- 
 ollections. Who can look do\\ai upon the grave even of an 
 enemy, and not feel a compunctious^ throb that he should 
 ever have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies 
 mouldering before him^ ? 
 
 6. But the grave of those we loved — what a place for med- 
 itation ! There it is that we call up in long review the whole 
 history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endear- 
 ments'* lavished^ upon us almost unheeded in the daily inter- 
 course of intimacy ; there it is that we dwell upon the ten- 
 derness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene — 
 the bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless at- 
 tendants, its mute, watchful assiduities — the last testimonies 
 of expiring love — the feeble, fluttering, thrilling — O how 
 thrilling ! — pressure of the hand — the last fond look of the 
 
238 
 
 WILLSON'S FOUETH EEADEE. 
 
 Pakt IV 
 
 glaziog eye, turning upon us even from the threshold of ex- 
 istence — the faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to 
 give one more assurance of affection. 
 
 7. Ay, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate! 
 There settle the account with thy conscience for every past 
 benefit unrequited,^ every past endearment unregarded, of 
 that departed being who can never — never — never return to 
 be soothed by thy contrition ! 
 
 8. If thou art a child', and hast ever added a sorrow to the 
 soul, or a furrow to the silver brow of an affectionate parent' ; 
 if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom 
 that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one 
 moment of thy kindness or thy truth' ; if thou art a friend, 
 and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed, the 
 spirit that generously confided in thee' ; if thou art a lover, 
 and hast ever given one unmerited pang to that true heart 
 which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet', then be sure 
 that every unkind look\" every ungracious word\ every un- 
 gentle action\ will come thronging back upon thy memory, 
 and knocking dolefully at thy souV ; then be sure that thou 
 wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and ut- 
 ter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear, more 
 deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing. 
 
 9. Then weave thy chaplet"^ of flowers, and strew the beau- 
 ties of nature about the grave ; console thy broken spirit, if 
 thou canst, with these tender yet futile^ tributes of regret ; 
 but take warning by the bitterness of this thy contrite^ af- 
 fliction over the dead, and henceforth be more faithful and 
 affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living. 
 
 Irving. 
 
 1 Di-vor'oet), separaterl. 
 
 2 At'-tri-butk, quality; that which be- 
 longs to. 
 
 3 €OM-Pimo'-Tioue, causing grief or re- 
 morse. 
 
 * En-dhak'-ments, acts of affection. 
 
 5 Lav'-isiied, bestowed freely. 
 
 s Un-rb quit'-ed, not repaid ; not reconi 
 
 pensed. 
 ■' Chap'-lkt, garland. 
 
 8 Fii'-tTle, of no effect ; unavailing. 
 
 9 €on'-tbTte, penitent; humble. 
 
Pakt IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 239 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 FOKGIVE AND FORGET. 
 
 1. When streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall, 
 
 Bubble up from the heart to the tongue, 
 And meekness is writhing in torment and thrall. 
 
 By the hands of ingratitude wrung : 
 In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair, 
 
 While the anguish is festering yet, 
 None, none but an angel of God can declare 
 
 I now can forgive and forget. 
 
 2. But if the bad spirit is chased from the heart, 
 
 And the lips are in penitence steeped, 
 With the wrong so repented, the wrath will depart 
 
 Though scorn on injustice were heajjed ; 
 For the best compensation is paid for all ill. 
 
 When the cheek with contrition is wet. 
 And every one feels it is possible still 
 
 At once to forgive and forget. 
 
 3. To forget ? It is hard for a man with a mind, 
 
 However his heart may forgive. 
 To blot out all perils and dangers behind. 
 
 And but for the future to live. 
 Then how shall it be ? for,, at every turn. 
 
 Recollection the spirit will fret, 
 And the ashes of injury smoulder and burn, 
 
 Though we strive to forgive and forget. 
 
 4. O, hearken ! my tongue shall the riddle unseal, 
 
 And mind shall be partner with heart. 
 While thee to thyself I bid conscience reveal, 
 
 And show thee how evil thou art : 
 Remember thy follies, thy sins, and thy crimes, 
 
 How vast is that infinite debt ! 
 Yet mercy hath seven by seventy times 
 
 Been swift to forgive and forget. 
 
240 WILLSON's fourth EEaDEE. Part IV. 
 
 5. Brood not on insults or injuries old, 
 
 For thou art injurious too; 
 Count not the sum till the total is told, 
 
 For thou art unkind and untrue ; 
 And if all thy harms are forgotten, forgiven, 
 
 Now mercy with justice is met ; 
 O, who would not gladly take lessons from heaven, 
 
 And learn to forgive and forget ? 
 
 6. Yes, yes, let a man, when his enemy weeps, 
 
 Be quick to receive him a friend ; 
 For thus on his head in kindness he heaps 
 
 Hot coals, to refine and amend ; 
 And hearts that are Christian more easily yearn, 
 
 As a nurse on her innocent pet. 
 Over lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn. 
 
 And whisper, forgive and forget. Tcppeb. 
 
 LESSON Y. 
 "CLEON AND I." 
 
 1. Cleom hath a million acres — ne'er a one have I ; 
 Cleon dwelleth in a palace — in a cottage, I ; 
 Cleon hath a dozen fortunes — not a penny, I ; 
 But the poorer of the twain is Cleon, and not I. 
 
 2. Cleon, true, possesseth acres — but the landscape, I ; 
 Half the charms to me it yieldeth money can not buy ; 
 Cleon harbors sloth and dullness — freshening vigor, I ; 
 He in velvet, I in fustian — richer man am I. 
 
 3. Cleon is a slave to grandeur — ^free as thought am I ; 
 Cleon fees a score of doctors — need of none have I. 
 Wealth-surrounded, care-environed, Cleon fears to die ; 
 Death may come — he'll find me ready— happier man am I. 
 
 4. Cleon sees no charms in Nature — ^in a daisy, I ; 
 Cleon hears no anthems ringing in the sea and sky. 
 Nature sings to me forever — earnest listener, I ; 
 
 State for state, with all attendants, who would change ? 
 Not I. C. Mack AY. 
 
Pabt IV. MISCELLAJfEOUS. 241 
 
 lesso:n^ vl 
 
 SPECTACLES, OR HELPS TO READ. 
 
 1. A CEiiTAiN artist — I've forgot his name — 
 Had got, for making spectacles, a fame, 
 
 Or " helps to read," as, when they first were sold, 
 Was writ upon his glaring sign in gold ; 
 And, for all uses to be had from glass. 
 His were allowed by readers to surpass. 
 
 2. There came a man into his shop one day — 
 " Are you the spectacle contriver, pray' ?" 
 " Yes, sir\" said he ; "I can in that affair 
 Contrive to please you, if you want a pair'." 
 
 " Can you'? pray do, then\" So, at first, he chose 
 To place a you7igish pair upon his nose ; 
 And book produced, to see how they would fit : 
 Asked how he liked 'em^ ? " Like 'em' ? not a bit\' ' 
 
 3. " Then, sir, I fancy, if you please to try, 
 These in my hand will better suit your eye\" 
 
 " No', but they don't'." " Well, come, sir, if you please. 
 
 Here is another sort\ we'll e'en try these^ ; 
 
 Still somewhat more they magnify the letter^ ; 
 
 Now, sir' ?" " Why, now— I'm not a bit the better'." 
 
 " No' ? here, take these, that magnify still more ; 
 
 How do they fit' ?" " Like all the rest before." 
 
 4. In short, they tried a whole assortment through, 
 But all in vain, for none of 'em would do. 
 
 The operator, much sui-prised to find 
 So odd a case, thought, sure the man is blind ! 
 " What sort of eyes can you have got' ?" said he. 
 " Why, very good ones, friend, as you may see." 
 " Yes, I perceive the clearness of the hall — 
 Pray, let me ask you, can you read at all' .^" 
 " No', you great blockhead ; if I could, what need 
 Of paying you for any ' helps to read' V " 
 And so he left the maker in a heat. 
 Resolved to post him for an arrant cheat. Btkom. 
 
 L 
 
242 
 
 willson's foueth keader. 
 
 Part IV. 
 
 LESSON VII. 
 
 33*i'.?Z2C-- 
 
 THE MAY QUEEN. 
 
 1. You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; 
 To-morrow *11 be the happiest time of all the glad New-year ; 
 Of all the glad New -year, mother, the maddest, merriest day; 
 
 For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May 
 
 2. There's many a black black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine ; 
 There's Margaret and Mary, there's Kate and Caroline : 
 
 But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say. 
 
 So I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. 
 
 3. I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake. 
 If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break : 
 
 But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay. 
 
 For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. 
 
 4. As I came up the valley, whom think ye should I see, 
 But Eobin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree ? 
 
 He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday — 
 
 But I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' tlie Sla--. 
 
Part IV. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 243 
 
 5. They say he's dying all for love, but that can never be : 
 They say his heart is breaking, mother — what is that to me ? 
 There's many a bolder lad will woo me any summer day, 
 
 For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the ilay. 
 
 6. Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green. 
 
 And you'll be there too, mother, to see me made the Queen ; 
 
 For the shepherd-lads on every side will come from far away — , 
 
 And I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. 
 
 NEW- YEAR'S EVE. 
 
 7. If you're waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, 
 For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year : 
 
 It is the last New -year that I shall ever see. 
 
 Then you may lay me low in the mould, and think no more of me. 
 
 8. To-night I saw the sun set : he set and left behind 
 
 The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind ; 
 And the New-year's coming up, mother, but I shall never see 
 The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. 
 
 9. Last May we made a crown of flowers ; we had a merry day : 
 Beneath the hawthorn on the Green they made me Queen of May ; 
 And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse, ^ 
 
 Till Charles's Wain^ came out above the tall white chimney-tops. 
 
 10. There's not a flower on all the hills : the frost is on the pane : 
 I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again : 
 I wish the snow would melt, and the sun come out on high : 
 I long to see a flower so, before the day I die. 
 
244 WILLSON's fourth READEE. Faux IV. 
 
 11. The building rook will caw' from the windy tall elm-tree, 
 And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow* lea, ^ 
 
 And the swallow will come back again with summer o'er the wave — 
 But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. 
 
 12. When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light 
 You'll never see me more in the long gray fields at night ; 
 When from the dry dark wold^ the summer airs blow cool 
 
 On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool. 
 
 13. You'll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade. 
 And you'll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid. 
 I shall not forget you, mother ; I shall hear you when you pass. 
 With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass. 
 
 14. I have been wild and wayward, but you'll forgive me now ; 
 You'll kiss me, my own mother, upon my cheek and brow ; 
 Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your gi-ief be wild, 
 You should not fret for me, mother — ^you have another child. 
 
 15. Good-night, good-night, when I have said good-night for evermore, 
 And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door. 
 
 Don't let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green : 
 She'll be a better child to you than ever I have been. 
 
 16. She'll find my garden-tools upon the granaiy floor: 
 
 Let her take them : they are hers : I shall never garden more : 
 • But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-bush that I set 
 About the parlor window, and the box of mignonnette. "^ 
 
 17. Good-night, sweet mother : call me before the day is bom. 
 All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at mom ; 
 
 But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year, 
 So, if you're waking, call me, call me early, mother dear. 
 
 CONCLUSION. . 
 
 18. I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am ; 
 
 And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb. 
 How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year ! 
 To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet's here. 
 
 19. It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun. 
 And now it seems as hard to stay, and yet His will be done ! 
 But still I think it can't be long before I find release ; 
 
 And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace. 
 
 20. O blessings on his kindly voice, and on his silver hair ! 
 
 And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there ! 
 O blessings on his kindly heart, and on his silver head ! 
 A thousand times I bless'd him as he knelt beside my bed. 
 
Part IV. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 245 
 
 21. He show'd me all the mercy, for he taught me all the sin: 
 
 Now, though my lamp was lighted late, there's One will let me in : 
 Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, 
 For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. 
 
 22. O look ! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow ; 
 He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. 
 
 And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine — 
 Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine. 
 
 23. O sweet and strange it seems to me, that, ere this day is done, 
 The voice that now is speaking may be beyond the sun — 
 Forever and forever with those just souls and true — 
 
 And what is life, that we should moan ? why make we such ado ? 
 
 24. Forever and forever, all in a blessed home — 
 
 And there to wait a little while till yx)u and Effie come ; 
 To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast — 
 And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 1 €oP8i!:, a wood of small growth. I* Fal'-i>ow, left unsowed or untilled after 
 
 2 CuAELEs's Wain, a constellation or group plowing. 
 
 of fixed stars. P Li? a, meadow or sward land. 
 
 • €aw, to cry like a crow, rook, or raven, k Woi.d, a wood ; sometimes a plain. 
 
 p Mign-ox-kettk' (min-yon-ef), a plant. 
 
246 willson's fourth reader. Part IV. 
 
 LESSON VIII. 
 
 THE BISHOP AND THE IQNG. 
 
 1. A HEATHEN king once caused a pious bishop to be 
 brought before him, and required of him that he should deny 
 his faith and sacrifice to the gods. But the bishop said, " My 
 lord and king, that I shall not do." Then was the king ex- 
 ceeding angry, and said, *' Knowest thou not that thy life is 
 in my power, and I can kill thee ? One look, and it will be 
 done." 
 
 2. " I know that," answered the bishop ; " but allow me first 
 to state a case to thee, and a question for thy decision. Sup- 
 pose that one of thy most faithful servants should fall into the 
 power of thine enemies, and that they should seek to move 
 him to be unfaithful toward thee, so that he should betray 
 4hee. But, seeing that thy servant remained steadfast in his 
 fidelity, the enemies should take him, and, stripping him of 
 all his clothes, send him away naked, in the midst of mock- 
 ings and insults. Say, O king, when he should return to thee 
 thus, wouldst thou not give him thy best robes, and recom- 
 pense him for his disgrace with honor ?" 
 
 3. And the king answered and said, "Well, yes; but what 
 does all this mean, and where has such a thing happened?" 
 Then spake the holy bishop, " Behold, thou canst strip me 
 of this earthly garment ; but I have a 3Iaster who will robe 
 me anew. Ought I then to regard the dress, and give up 
 fidelity for it ?" Then said the heathen monarch, " Go ! I 
 give thee thy life !" 
 
 LESSON IX. 
 
 CONSIDER BOTH SIDES OF A QUESTION. 
 
 1. In the days of knight-errantry^ and paganism, one of 
 our old British princes set up a statue to the goddess of Vic- 
 tory, in a point where four roads met together. In her right 
 hand she held a spear, and her left hand rested upon a shield. 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 247 
 
 The outside of this shield was of gold, and the inside of sil- 
 ver. On the. former was inscribed,^ in the old British lan- 
 guage, " To the goddess ever favorable ;" and on the other, 
 " For four victories obtained successively over the Picts and 
 other inhabitants of the northern islands." 
 
 2. It happened one day that two knights completely armed, 
 one in black armor, the other in white, arrived from opposite 
 parts of the country at this statue, just about the same time ; 
 and, as neither of them had seen it before, they stopped to 
 read the inscription, and observe the excellence of its work- 
 manship. 
 
 3. After contemplating it for some time, "This golden 
 shield," says the black knight — " Golden shield !" cried the 
 white knight (who was as strictly observing the opposite 
 side), " why, if I have my eyes, it is silver." " I know noth- 
 ing of yc^ur eyes," replied the black knight ; " but if ever I 
 saw a golden shield in my life, this is one." " Yes," return- 
 ed the white knight, smiling, "it is very probable, indeed, 
 that they should expose a shield of gold in so public a place 
 as this ! For my part, I wonder even a ^ver one is not too 
 strong a temptation for the devotion of some people who pass 
 this way ; and it appears, by the date, that this has been here 
 above three years." 
 
 4. The black knight could not bear the smile with which 
 this was delivered, and grew so warm in the dispute that it 
 soon ended in a challenge ; they both, therefore, turned theii' 
 horses, and rode back so far as to have sufficient' space for 
 their career ; then, fixing their spears in their rests, they flew 
 at each other with the greatest fury and impetuosity.^ Their 
 shock was so rude, and the blow on each side so effectual, 
 that they both fell to the ground, much wounded and bruised, 
 and lay there for some time, as in a trance. 
 
 5. A good Druid, who was traveling that way, found them 
 in this condition. The Druids were the physicians of those 
 times as well as the priests. He had a sovereign balsam 
 about him, which he had composed himself, for he was very 
 skillful in all the plants that grew in the fields or in the for- 
 ests ; he stanched their blood, applied his balsam to their 
 wounds, and brought them, as it were, from death to life 
 
248 willson's fourth reader. Part IV. 
 
 again. As soon as they were sufficiently recovered, he began 
 to inquire into the occasion of their quarrel. " Why, this 
 man," cried the black knight, " will have it that yonder shield 
 is silver." " And he will have it," replied the white knight, 
 " that it is gold." And then they told him all the particulars 
 of the affair. 
 
 6. " Ah !" said the Bruid, with a sigh, " you are both of 
 you, my brethren, in the right, and both of you in the wrong. 
 Had either of you given himself time to look at the opposite 
 side of the shield, as well as that which first presented itself 
 to view, all this-passion and bloodshed might have been avoid- 
 ed. However, there is a very good lesson to be learned from 
 the evils that have befallen you on this occasion. Permit me, 
 therefore, to entreat you by all our gods, and by this goddess 
 of Victory in particular, never to enter into any dispute fm* 
 the future till you have fairly considered both sides of the 
 questi07i.^'^ Beaumont. 
 
 1 Knight-eb'-eant-by, the practice of nvan-js Ik-bceTd'ed, written or printed, 
 dering about in quest of adventures. P Im-pf-t-u-os'-i-ty, violence. 
 
 LESSON X. 
 
 THE CHAMELEON. 
 1. The chameleon is an animal of the lizard kind, chiefly 
 found in Arabia and Egypt, whose color often changes with- 
 out any apparent^ cause ; which circumstance has given rise 
 to the following fable, showing, in a lively and striking man- 
 ner, the folly of positiveness in opinion : 
 
 2. Two travelers of conceit ed^ cast. 
 As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed. 
 And, on their way, in friendly chat, 
 Now talked of this, and then of that, 
 Discoursed a while, 'mongst other matter, 
 Of the chameleon^ s form and nature. 
 
 3. " A stranger animal," cries one, 
 
 " Sure never lived beneath the sun ; 
 A lizard's body, lean and long^ ; 
 A fish's head^ ; a serpent's tongue' ; 
 
Pabt IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 249 
 
 Its foot with triple^ claw disjoined^ ;* 
 And what a length of tail behind^ ! 
 How slow its pace^ ! and then its hue — 
 Who ever saw so fine a blue^ ?" 
 
 4. " Hold there," the other quick replies ; 
 " 'Tis green — I saw it with these eyes, 
 As late with ojDen mouth it lay. 
 And warmed it in the sunny ray ; 
 Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed. 
 And saw it eat the air for food." 
 
 6. "Z've seen it, sir, as well as yow', 
 And must again affirm it hlue ; 
 At leisure I the beast surveyed 
 Extended in the cooling shade." 
 
 6. " 'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye." 
 " Green' !" cries the other, in a fury : 
 " Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes' ?" 
 " 'Twere no great loss\" the friemL replies' ; 
 " For if they always serve you th^, 
 You'll find them but of little use." 
 
 V. So high at last the contest rose. 
 
 From words they almost came to blows ; 
 When luckily came by a third — 
 To him the question they referred ; 
 And begged he'd tell them, if he knew. 
 Whether the thing was green', or blue^ ? 
 
 8. " Sirs'," cries the umpire,^ " cease your pother\« 
 The creature's neither one nor t'other^ ; 
 
 I caught the animal last night. 
 And viewed it o'er by candle-light ; 
 I marked it well — 'twas black as jet ; 
 You stare ! but, sirs, I've got it yet, 
 And can produce it." " Pray, sir, do ; 
 I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 
 
 9. " And ni engage that, when you've seen 
 The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." 
 
 L2 
 
250 WILLSON's fourth reader. Fart IV. 
 
 " Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," 
 Replies the man, " I'll turn him. out ; 
 ' And, when before your eyes I've set him'. 
 If you don't find him black, I'll eat him\" 
 He said, then full before their sight 
 Produced the beast, and lo — 'twas white ! 
 
 10. Both stared; the man looked wondrous wise! 
 " My cliildren','' the chameleon cries 
 (Then first the creature found a tongue), 
 " You all are right', and all are wrong^ : 
 When next you talk of what you view'. 
 Think others see as well as you ; 
 Nor wonder if you find that none 
 Prefers your eyesight to his own." Merrick. 
 
 1 Ap-pab'-ent, plain ; evident. ]* Dis-join'ed, separated. 
 
 '■* Con-ceit'-ed, having too high an opinion, ^ Um'-pibe, a person called in to decide a 
 
 of one's self. controversy ; a judge. 
 
 ' Tuip'le, three-fold ; three parted. 1 ^ Poth'-ee, foolish controversy. 
 
 LESSON^ XI. 
 
 WE ARE SEVEN. 
 
 1. I MET a little cottage girl. 
 
 She was eight years old, she said ; 
 Her hair was thick with many a curl 
 That clustered round her head. 
 
 2. She had a rustic, woodland air. 
 
 And she was wildly clad ; 
 Her face was fair, yea, very fair — 
 Her beauty made me glad. 
 
 3. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, 
 
 How many may you be^ ?" 
 " How many'? seven in all," she said. 
 And wondering looked at me. 
 
 4. " And where are they, I pray you telP ?" 
 
 She answered, " Seven are w^e ; 
 And two of us at Conway dwell, 
 And two are gone to sea ; 
 
Part iV. MISCELLANEOUS. * 251 
 
 5. " Two of US in the church-yard lie, 
 
 My sister and my brother ; 
 And in the church-yard cottage I 
 Dwell near them with my mother." 
 
 6. " You say that two at Conway dwell, 
 
 And two are gone to sea, 
 Yet ye are seven ; I pray you tell, 
 Sweet maid, how this may be^ ?" 
 
 7. Then did the little maid reply, 
 
 " Seven boys and girls are we : 
 
 Two of us in the church-yard lie. 
 
 Beneath the church-yard tree." 
 
 8. " You run about, my little maid. 
 
 Your limbs they are alive ; 
 If two are in the church-yard laid, 
 Then ye are only five." 
 
 9. " Their graves are green, they may be seen,'' 
 
 The little maid replied, 
 "Twelve steps or more from my mother's door. 
 And they are side by side. 
 
 10. "My stockings there I often knit, 
 
 My 'kerchief there I hem ; 
 And there upon the ground I sit — 
 I sit and sing to them. 
 
 11. "And often after sunset, sir, 
 
 When it is light and fair, 
 I take my little porringer 
 And eat my supper there. 
 
 12. "The first that died was little Jane; 
 
 In bed she moaning lay, « 
 
 Till God reheved her of her pain. 
 And then she went away. 
 
 13. "So in the church-yard she was laid; 
 
 And, when the grass was dry, 
 Together round her grave we played, 
 My brother John and T. 
 
252 *^ willson's fourth KKADER. PaKT IV. 
 
 1 4. " And, when the ground was white with snow, 
 
 And I could run and slide, 
 My brother John was forced to go, 
 And he lies by her side." 
 
 15. " How many are you, then," said I, 
 
 " If they two are in heaven^ ?" 
 The little maiden did reply, 
 " O master' ! we are seven\" 
 
 16. " But they are dead — those two are dead ; 
 
 Their spirits are in heaven :" 
 'Twas throwing words away ; for still 
 The little maid would have her will, 
 
 And said, " Nay, we are seven." Wordsworth. 
 
 LESSON XII. 
 
 ON GOOD BREEDING. 
 
 1. As learning, honor, and virtue are absolutely necessary 
 to gain you the esteem and admiration of mankind, polite- 
 ness and good breeding are equajly necessary to make you 
 agreeable in conversation and common life. Great talents 
 are above the generality of the world, who neither possess 
 them themselves, nor judge of them rightly in others ; but 
 all people are judges of the smaller talents, such as civility, 
 affability, and an obliging, agreeable address and manner, 
 because they feel the effects of them, as making society easy 
 and pleasing. 
 
 2. Good sense must, in many cases, determine good breed- 
 ing ; but there are some general rules of it that always hold 
 true. For example, it is extremely rude not to give proper 
 attention, and s^ivil answer, when people speak to you ; or 
 to go away, or be doing something else, while they are 
 speaking to you ; for that convinces them that you despise 
 them, and do not think it worth your while to hear or an- 
 swer what they say. It is also very rude to take the best 
 place in a room, or to seize immediately upon what you like 
 at table, -without offering first to help others, as if you con- 
 
Fart IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 263 
 
 sidered nobody but yourself. On the contrary, you should 
 always endeavor to procure all the conveniences you can to 
 the people you are with. 
 
 3. Besides being civil, which is absolutely necessary, the 
 perfection of good breeding is to be civil with ease, and in 
 a becoming manner ; awkwardness can proceed but from 
 two causes, either from not having kept good company, or 
 from not having attended to it. Attention is absolutely 
 necessary for improving in behavior, as, indeed, it is for 
 every thing else. If an awkward person drinks tea or coffee, 
 he often scalds his mouth, and lets either the cup or the 
 saucer fall, and spills the tea or coffee on his clothes. 
 
 4. At dinner his awkwardness distinguishes itself particu- 
 larly, as he has more to do. There he holds his knife, fork, 
 and spoon differently from other people; eats with his knife, 
 to the great danger of his lips ; picks his teeth with his fork ; 
 and puts his spoon, which has been in his mouth twenty 
 times, into the dishes again. If he is to carve, he can never 
 hit the joint ; but, in his vain efforts to cut through the bone, 
 scatters the sauce in every body's face. He generally daubs 
 himself with soup and grease, though his napkin is common- 
 ly stuck through a button-hole, and tickles his cliin. When 
 he drinks, he coughs in his glass,, and besprinkles the com- 
 pany. 
 
 5. Besides all this, he has strange tricks and gestures, such 
 as snuffing up his nose, making faces, putting his fingers in 
 his noSe, or blowing it, so as greatly to disgust the company. 
 His hands are troublesome to him when he has not some- 
 thing in them ; and he does not know w^here to put them, 
 but keeps them in perpetual motion. All this, I own, is not 
 in any degree criminal ; but it is highly disagreeable and ri- 
 diculous in company, and ought most carefully to be guarded 
 against by every one that desires to please. 
 
 6. There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression and 
 words which ought to be avoided, such as false English, bad 
 pronunciation, old sayings, and vulgar proverbs, which are 
 so many proofs of a poor education. For example, if, instead 
 of saying that tastes are different, and that every man has his 
 own peculiar one, you should repeat a vulgar provert), and 
 
254 willson's foueth reader. Pabt IV. 
 
 say that " what is one man's meat is another man's poison," 
 or else, " Every one to his Hking, as the good man said when 
 he kissed his cow," the company would be persuaded that 
 you had never associated with any but low persons. 
 
 V. To mistake or forget names, to speak of " What-d'ye- 
 call-him," or " Thingum," or " How-d'ye-call her," is excess- 
 ively awkward and vulgar. To begin a story or narration 
 when you are not perfect in it, and can not go through with 
 it, but are forced, possibly, to say in the middle of it, " I have 
 forgotten the rest," is very unpleasant and bungling. One 
 must be extremely exact, clear, and perspicuous in every 
 thing one says ; otherwise, instead of entertaining or inform- 
 ing others, one only tires and puzzles them. 
 
 8. The voice and manner of speaking, too, are not to be 
 neglected. Some people almost shut their mouths when 
 they speak, and mutter so that they are not to be under- 
 stood ; others speak so fast, and sputter, that they are equal- 
 ly uninteUigible. Some always speak as loud as if they were 
 talking to deaf people ; and others so low that one can not 
 hear them. All these, and many other habits, are awkward 
 and disagreeable, and are to be avoided by attention. You 
 can not imagine how necessary it is to mind all these little 
 things. I have seen many people with great talents ill re- 
 ceived for w^ant of having these little talents of good breed- 
 ing ; and others well received only from their little talents, 
 and who had no great ones. Anonymous. 
 
 LESSON xm. 
 
 THE HERITAGE. 
 
 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 ine, 
 
 One scarce would wish to hold in fee.^ 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 255 
 
 2. The rich man's son inherits cares : 
 
 The bank may break, the factory burn, 
 A breath may bm-st his bubble shares, 
 And soft white hands could hardly earn 
 A living that would serve his turn ; 
 A heritage, it seems to me. 
 One would not wish to hold in fee. 
 
 3. 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. 
 
 4. 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 by 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. 
 
 6. O rich man's son ! there is a toil, 
 That with all other level stands ; 
 Large charity doth never soil. 
 
 But only whiten soft white hands — 
 This is the best crop from thy lands ; 
 
 * This may be regarded in the nature of an indirect question, asking a repetition of 
 •what may not have been fully understood. See Note to Rule III. Or it may be regard- 
 ed as an exclamatory sentence that becomes a question. See Note to Kule X. In either 
 case it should receive the rising inflection. 
 
256 willson's fourth reader. Part IV. 
 
 A heritage, it seems to me, 
 Worth being rich to hold in fee. 
 
 Y. O poor man's son ! scorn not thy state ; 
 There is worse weariness than thine, 
 
 In merely being rich and great : 
 Toil only gives the soul to shine, 
 And makes rest fragrant and benign f 
 
 A heritage, it seems to me. 
 
 Worth being poor to hold in fee. 
 
 8. 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. j. R. Lowell. 
 
 1 In-hee'-its, takes by descent from an an- 
 cestor. 
 
 2 HEE'-iT-A<iE, an inheritance; estate de- 
 rived from an ancestor. 
 
 3 " In fee," an estate or property which onej ence 
 has in his own right, and Avhich may be 
 Inherited by his heirs. 
 
 * AD-Jtrno'EP, decreed ; determined. 
 
 * OuT'-eXST, one driven from home or coun- 
 try. 
 
 6 Be-nTgn', favorable; having a good influ- 
 
 LESso:Nr XIV. 
 
 SCHEMES OF LIFE OFTEN ILLUSORY. 
 
 1. Omar, the son of Hassan', had passed seventy-five years 
 in honor and prosperity\ The favor of three successive ca- 
 lifs had filled his house with gold and silver ; and wheneve^ 
 he appeared', the benedictions of the people proclaimed his 
 presence. 
 
 2. Earthly happiness is of short continuance\ The bright- 
 ness of the flame is wasting its fueP ; the fragrant flower is 
 passing away in its own odors\ The vigor of Omar began 
 to fair ; the curls of beauty fell from his head^ ; strength de- 
 parted from his hands', and agility from his feet\ He gave 
 back to the calif the keys of trust, and the seals of secrecy ; 
 and sought no other pleasure for the remainder of life than 
 the converse of the wise', and the gratitude of the good\ 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 267 
 
 3. The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His 
 chamber was filled by visitants, eager to catch the dictates 
 of experience, and officious to pay the tribute of admiration. 
 Caleb, the son of the viceroy of Egypt', entered every day 
 early, and retired late\ He was beautiful and eloquent^: 
 Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility. 
 
 4. "Tell me," said Caleb', "thou to whose voice nations 
 have listened, and whose wisdom is known to the extremities 
 of Asia', tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent\ 
 The arts by which thou hast gained power and preserved it 
 are to thee no longer necessary nor useful ; impart to me^ the 
 secret of thy conduct, and teach me the plan upon which thy 
 wisdom has built thy fortune\" 
 
 5. " Young man'," said Omar', " it is of little use to form 
 plans of life\ When I took my first survey of the world in 
 my twentieth year', having considered the various conditions 
 of mankind, in the hour of solitude I said thus to myself, 
 leaning against a cedar, which spread its branches over my 
 head : ' Seventy years are allowed to man^ ; I have yet fifty 
 remaining. 
 
 6. " ' Ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowl- 
 edge', and ten I will pass in foreign countries^ ; I shall be 
 learned', and therefore shall be honored^; every city will' 
 shout at my arrival', and every student will solicit my friend- 
 ship\ Twenty years thus passed will store my mind with 
 images, which I shall be busy, through the rest of my life, in 
 combining and comparing. I shall revel in inexhaustible ac- 
 cumulations of intellectual riches^ ; I shall find new pleasures 
 for every moment', and shal^never more be weary of myself \ 
 
 1. " ' I will not, however, deviate too far from the beaten 
 track of life', but will try what can be found in female deli- 
 cacy\ I will marry a wife as beautiful as the Houris', and 
 wise as Zobeide^ ; and with her I will live twenty years with- 
 in the suburbs of Bagdat, in every pleasure that wealth can 
 purchase, and fancy can invent. 
 
 8. " * I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pass my days in 
 obscurity and contemplation, and lie silently down on the 
 bed of death. Through my fife it shall be my settled resolu- 
 tion that I will never depend on the smile of princes ; that I 
 
258 willson's fourth reader. Part IV. 
 
 will never stand exposed to the artifices of courts ; that I will 
 never pant for public honors, nor disturb my quiet with the 
 affairs of state.' Such was my scheme of life, which I im- 
 pressed indelibly upon my memory. 
 
 9. " The first part of my ensuing time' was to be spent in 
 search of knowledge^ and I know not how I was diverted 
 from my design\ I had no visible impediments without' , nor 
 any ungovernable passions within\ I regarded knowledge 
 as the highest honor, and the most engaging pleasure^ ; yet 
 day stole upon day, and month glided after month, till I found 
 that seven years of the first ten had vanished', and left noth- 
 ing behind^ them. 
 
 10. "I now postponed my purpose of traveling; for why 
 should I go abroad^, while so much remained to be learned at 
 home^ ? I immured myself for four years, and studied the 
 laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached the judges : 
 I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions, and I was 
 commanded to stand at the footstool of the calif. I was 
 heard with attention ; I was consulted with confidence, and 
 the love of praise fastened on my heart. 
 
 11. "I stiU wished to see distant countries ; listened with 
 rapture to the relations of travelers, and resolved some time 
 *to ask my dismission, that I might feast my soul with novel- 
 ty^ ; but my presence was always necessary, and the stream 
 of business hurried me along. Sometimes I was afraid lest I 
 should be charged with ingratitude ; but I still proposed to 
 travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage. 
 
 12. "In my fiftieth year', I began to suspect that the time 
 of my traveling was past, and thought it best to lay hold on 
 the felicity yet in my power, and indulge myself in domestic^ 
 pleasures. But at fifty no man easily finds a woman beauti- 
 ful as thg Uouris, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired and re- 
 jected, consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year 
 made me ashamed of wishing to marry. I had now nothing 
 left but retirement^ ; and for retirement I never found a time', 
 until disease forced me from public employment\ 
 
 13. "Such was my scheme', and such has been its conse- 
 quence\ With an insatiable thirst for knowledge', I trifled 
 away the years of improvement^ ; with a restless desire of 
 
Fart IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 259 
 
 seeing diiferent countries', I have always resided in the same 
 city^ ; with the highest expectation of connubial felicity'', I 
 have hved unmarried^ ; and with an unalterable resolution of 
 contemplative retirement^, I am going to die within the walls 
 ofBagdat\" 
 
 LESSON XV. 
 A PSALM OF LIFE. 
 
 1. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 
 
 Life is but an empty dream' ! 
 For the soul is dead^ that slumbers', 
 And things are not what they seem\ 
 
 2. Life is rtaV ! Life is earnest' I 
 
 And the grave is not its goal ; 
 " Dust thou art, to dust returnest," 
 Was not spoken of the soul. 
 
 3. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 
 
 Is our destined end or way ; 
 
 But to act, that each to-morrow 
 
 Find us farther than to-day. 
 
 4. Art is long, and time is fleeting ;. 
 
 And our hearts, though stout and brave 
 Still, hke muffled drums, are beating 
 Funeral marches to the grave. 
 
 6. In the world's broad field of battle, 
 In the bivouac of life. 
 Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 
 Be a hero in the strife. 
 
 6. Trust no future, howe'er pleasant, 
 
 Let the dead Past bury its dead ! 
 Act — act in the living present ! 
 Heart within, and God o'erhead. 
 
 7. Lives of great men all remind us. 
 
 We can make our lives sublime ; 
 And, departing, leave behind us 
 Footprints on the sands of time; 
 
260 WILLSOn's fourth reader. Tart IV 
 
 8. Footprints that perhaps another, 
 
 Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 
 A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, ♦ 
 Seeing, shall take heart again. 
 
 9. Let us, then, be up and doing. 
 
 With a heart for any fate ; 
 Still achieving, still pursuing, 
 
 Learn to labor and to wait. Longfellow. 
 
 LESSON XYI. 
 
 PRACTICAL PRECEPTS. 
 
 SIR MATTHEW HALE. 
 
 1. Never speak any thing for a truth which you know or 
 believe to be false. Lying is a great sin against God, who 
 ^ve us a tongue to speak truths, and not falsehoods. It is 
 a great offense against humanity itself; for where there is no 
 regard to truth, there can be no safe society between man 
 and man. 
 
 2. And it is an injury to the speaker ; for, besides the dis- 
 grace which it brings upon him, it occasions so much base- 
 ness of mind that he can scarcely tell truth, or avoid lying 
 even when he has no color of necessity for it ; and, in time, 
 he comes to such a pass that, as other people can not believe 
 he speaks truth, so he himself scarcely knows when he tells a 
 falsehood. 
 
 3. You must not equivocate, nor speak any thing positive- ' 
 ly for which you have no authority but report, or conjecture, 
 or opinion. Let your words be few, especially when your 
 superiors or strangers are present, lest you betray your own 
 weakness, and rob yourself of the opportunity which you 
 might otherwise have had to gain knowledge, wisdom, and 
 experience, by hearing those whom you silence by your im- 
 pertinent talking. * 
 
 4. Be not too earnest, loud, or violent in your conversation. 
 Silence your opponent with reason, not with noise. Be care- 
 ful not to interrupt another when he is speaking. Hear him 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 261 
 
 out, and you will understand him the better, and be ablfe to 
 give him the better answer. 
 
 5. Consider before you speak, especially when the business 
 is of moment ; weigh the sense of what you mean to utter, 
 and the expressions you intend to use, that they may be sig- 
 nificant, to the point, and inoffensive. Inconsiderate per- 
 sons do not think till they speak; or they speak, and then 
 think. ^ 
 
 6. Some men excel in one thing, some in another. In con- 
 versation learn, as near as you can, where the skill or excel- 
 lence of any person lies ; put hini upon talking on that sub- 
 ject, observe what he says, keep it in your memory, or com- 
 mit it to writing. By this means you will glean knowledge 
 from every one with whom you converse, and at an easy rate 
 acquire what may be of use to you on many occasions. 
 
 V. When you are in company with light, vain, impertinent 
 persons, let the observing of their failings make you the more 
 cautious both in your conversation with them and in your 
 general behavior, that you may avoid their errors. 
 
 8. If any one, who||^ou do not know to be a person of 
 truth, sobriety, and weight, relates strange stories, be not too 
 ready to believe or report them ; and yet, unless he is one 
 of your familiar acquaintances, be not too forward to contra- 
 dict him. 
 
 9. If the occasion requires you to declare your opinion, do 
 it modestly and gently, not bluntly nor coarsely; by this 
 means you will avoid giving offense, or being abused for too 
 much credulity. 
 
 LESSON XVII. 
 THE INQUIRY. 
 
 CHABLES MACKAT. 
 
 1. Tell me, ye winged winds, 
 
 That round my pathway roar, 
 Do ye not know some spot 
 Where mortals weep no more ? 
 
262 willson's fourth reader. PabtIV. 
 
 Some lone and pleasant dell, 
 
 Some valley in the west, 
 Where, free from toil and pain, 
 The weary soul may rest ? 
 The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
 And sighed for pity, as it answered — " No." 
 
 m 2. Tell me, thou mighty deep. 
 
 Whose billows round me play, 
 Know'st thou some favored spot, 
 
 Some island far away, • 
 
 Where weary man may find 
 
 The bliss for which he sighs — • 
 Where sorrow never lives. 
 And friendship never dies ? 
 The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow. 
 Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer — " No.'' 
 
 3. And thou, serenest moon, 
 
 That, with such lovely face. 
 Dost look upon the ea||h 
 
 Asleep in night's embrace, 
 Tell me, in all thy round. 
 
 Hast thou not seen some spot 
 Where miserable man 
 Might find a happier lot ? 
 Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe. 
 And a voice, sweet but sad, responded — " No." 
 
 4. Tell me, my secret soul. 
 
 Oh ! tell me, Hope and Faith, 
 Is there no resting-place 
 
 From sorrow, sin, and death ? 
 Is there no happy spot 
 
 Where mortals may be blessed. 
 Where grief may find a balm, 
 And weariness a rest ? 
 Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given. 
 Waved their bright wings, and whispered — "Yes, in 
 Heaven!" 
 
Pakt IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 263 
 
 LESSON XYIII. 
 THE HOUR OF PRAYER. 
 
 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 
 Call'd 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 firom 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\ Hemans. 
 
 Prayer is the soul's sincere desire. 
 
 Uttered or unexpressed — 
 The motion of a hidden fire 
 
 That trembles in the breast. 
 Prayer is the simplest form of speech 
 
 That infant lips can try — 
 Prayer 'the sublimest strains that reach 
 
 The Majesty on high. Montgomery, 
 
264 
 
 willson's foubth keadbib. 
 
 Pakt IV. 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 
 THE THEEE SONS. 
 
 1. I HAVE a son, a little son, a boy just five years old, 
 
 With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, and mind of gentle mould ; 
 
 They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways appears, 
 
 That my child is grave and wise of heart beyond his childish years. 
 
 I can not say how this may be — I know his face is fair, 
 
 And yet his chiefest comeliness is his sweet and serious air: 
 
 I know his heart is kind and fond, I know he loveth me, 
 
 But loveth yet his mother more with grateful fi|r^^ency. 
 
 2. But that which others most admire is the thought which fills his mind ; 
 The food for grave inquiring speech he every where doth find : 
 
Part IV; MISCELLANEOUS. 265 
 
 Strange questions doth he ask of me^ when we together walk ; 
 He scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as children talk ; 
 Nor cares he much for childish sports, dotes not on bat or ball, 
 But looks on manhood's ways and works, and aptly mimics all. 
 
 3. His little heart is busy still, and oftentimes perplex'd 
 
 With thoughts about this world of ours, and thoughts about the next ; 
 
 He kneels at his dear mother's knee, she teaches him to pray, 
 
 And strange, and sweet, and solemn then are the words which he wUl say. 
 
 Oh, should my gentle child be spared to manhood's years like me, 
 
 A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be : 
 
 And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his thoughtful brow, 
 
 I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose him now. 
 
 4. I have a son, a second son, a simple child of three ; 
 
 I'll not declare how bright and fair his little features be, 
 How silver sweet those tones of his when he prattles on my knee. 
 I do not think his light blue eye is, like his brother's, keen, 
 Nor his brow so full of childish thought as his hath ever been ; 
 But his little heart's a fountain pure of kind and tender feeling, 
 And his eveiy look's a gleam of light, rich depths of love revealing. 
 
 5. When he walks with me, the country folk, who pass us in the street. 
 Will shout with joy, and bl<5ss my boy, he looks so mild and sweet. 
 A playfellow is he to all, and yet, with cheerful tone, 
 
 Will sing his little song of love, when left to sport alone. 
 His presence is like sunshine sent to gladden home and hearth, 
 To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all our mirth. 
 Should he grow up toWper years, God grant his heart may prove 
 As sweet a home for heavenly grace as now for earthly love. 
 And if, beside his grave, the tears our aching eyes must dim, 
 God comfort us for all the love which we shall lose in him. 
 
 6. I have a son, a third sweet son ; his age I can not tell. 
 
 For they reckon not by yeai-s or months where he is gone to dwell. 
 To us, for fourteen anxious months, his infant smiles were given, 
 And then he bade farewell to Earth, and went to live in Heaven. 
 I can not tell what form is his, what looks he weareth now, 
 Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow. 
 The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the bliss which he doth feel, 
 Are number'd with the secret things which God will not reveal. 
 
 7. But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest, 
 Where other blessed infants be, on their Savior's loving breast. 
 I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh, 
 
 But his sleep is bless'd with endless dreams of joy forever fresh. 
 I know the angels fold him close beneath their glittering wings, 
 And soothe him with a song that breathes of Heaven's divinest things. 
 I know that we shall meet our babe (his mother dear and I), 
 When God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every eye. 
 
 M 
 
260^ 
 
 Part IV. 
 
 8. What'er befalls his brethren twain, his bliss can never cease ; 
 Their lot may here be gi-ief and fear, but his is certain i>eace. 
 It may be that the tempter's wiles their souls from bliss may sever 
 But if our own poor faith fail not, he must be ours forever. 
 When we think of what our darling is, and what we still must be — 
 When we muse on that world's perfect bliss, and this world's misery — 
 When we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel this grief and pain — 
 Oh I we'd rather lose our other two, than have him here again. 
 
 Moultrie. 
 
 LESSON XX. 
 THE BLIND PREACHER. 
 
 FROM WIRT'S BRITISH SPY. 
 
 1. It was one Sunday, as I was traveling through the coun- 
 ty of Orange, that my eye was caught by a cluster of horses 
 tied near a ruinous old wooden house, in the forest, not far 
 from the road-side. Having frequently seen such objects be- 
 fore in travehng through these states, I had no difficulty in 
 understanding that this was a place of religious worship. 
 
 2. Devotion alone should have stopped me to join in the 
 duties of the congregation ; but I must confess that curiosity 
 to hear the preacher of such a wilderness was not the least 
 of my motives. On entering, I was struck with his preter • 
 naturaP appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man ; 
 his head, which was covered with a white linen cap, his shriv- 
 eled^ hands, and his voice, were all shaking under the influ- 
 ence of a palsy f and a few moments ascertained'^ to me that 
 he was perfectly blind. 
 
 3. The first emotions which touched my breast were those 
 of mingled pity and veneration. But how soon were all my 
 feelings changed ! It was a day of the administration of the 
 sacrament;^ and his subject, of course, was the passion^ of 
 our Savior. I had heard the subject handled a thousand 
 times. I had thought it exhausted long ago. 
 
 4. Little did I suppose that in the wild woods of America 
 I was to meet with a man whose eloquence would give to 
 this topic a new and more sublime pathos'' than I had ever 
 before witnessed. As he descended from the pulpit to dis- 
 tribute the mystic symbols,® there was a peculiar — a more 
 
Pakt IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 267 
 
 than human solemnity in his air and manner, which made my 
 blood run cold, and my whole frame shiver. 
 
 5. He then drew a picture of the sufferings of our Savior 
 — his trial before Pilate — his ascent up Calvary — ^his cruci- 
 fixion — and his death. I knew the whole history ; but never, 
 until then, had I heard the circumstances so selected, so ar- 
 ranged, so colored ! It was all new ; and I seemed to have 
 heard it for the first time in my life. 
 
 6. His enunciation^ was so deliberate that his voice trem- 
 bled on every syllable ; and every heart in the assembly trem- 
 bled in unison.io His peculiar phrases had that force of de- 
 scription, that the original scene appeared to be, at that mo- 
 ment, acting before our eyes. We saw the very faces of the 
 Jews ; the staring, frightful distortions of malice and rage. 
 We saw the buffet ;i^ my soul kindled with a flame of indig- 
 nation ; and my hands were involuntarily^^ and convulsively 
 clinched. 
 
 V. But when he came to touch on the patience, the for- 
 giving meekness of our Savior; when he drew, to the life, 
 his blessed eyes streaming in tears to heaven; his voice 
 breathing to God a soft and gentle prayer of pardon on his 
 enemies, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
 they do," the voice of the preacher, which had all along fal- 
 tered, grew fainter and fainter, until, his utterance being en- 
 tirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his 
 handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepress- 
 ible flood of grief. The effect was inconceivable. The whole 
 house resounded with the mingled groans, and sobs, and 
 shrieks of the congregation. 
 
 8. It was some time before the tumult had subsided so far 
 as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual 
 but fallacious^^ standard of my own weakness, I began to be 
 very uneasy for the situation of the preacher ; for I could 
 not conceive how he would be able to let his audience down 
 from the height, to which he had wound^* them, without im- 
 pairing the solemnity and dignity of his subject, or perhaps 
 shocking them by the abruptness of the fall. But the descent 
 was as beautiful and sublime as the elevation had been rapid 
 and enthusiastic. 
 
268 
 
 willson's fourth readee. 
 
 Past IV. 
 
 9. The first sentence with which he broke the awful si- 
 lence was a quotation from Rousseau. " Socrates died Kke 
 a philosopher, but Jesus Christ like a God." I despair of 
 giving you any idea of the effect produced by this short sen- 
 tence, unless you could perfectly conceive the whole manner 
 of the man, as well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. 
 Never before did I completely understand what Demosthenes 
 meant by laying such stress on delivery. 
 
 10. You are to call to mind the pitch of passion and en- 
 thusiasm to which the congregation were raised ; and then, 
 the few minutes of portentous,i^ death-like silence which 
 reigned throughout the house; the preacher removing his 
 white handkerchief from his aged face (even yet wet from 
 the recent torrent of his tears), and slowly stretching forth 
 the palsied hand which holds it, as he begins the sentence, 
 " Socrates died like a philosopher," then pausing, raising his 
 other hand, pressing them both, clasped together, with 
 warmth and energy to his breast, lifting his " sightless balls" 
 to 4ieaven, and pouring his whole soul into his tremulous 
 voice as he continues, " but Jesus Christ — Hke a God !" K 
 he had been in deed and in truth an angel of light, the effect 
 could scarcely have been more divine. 
 
 1 Pbe-tee-nat'-u-eal, unusual; extraordi- 
 nary. 
 
 2 SuEiv'-ELED, contracted into wrinkles. 
 
 3 Pal'st, a disease that partially or wholly 
 destroys voluntary motion or sensation. 
 
 * As-cee-tain'ed, showed ; made plain. 
 6 Sa€'-ea-ment, the Lord's supper. 
 
 6 Pas'-sion ipash'-un)^ suffering. 
 
 7 Pa'-thos, a manner that awakens tender 
 emotions. 
 
 8 "Mrs'-Tio bym'-bols," the bread and wine. 
 
 9 E-nun-ci-a'-tion, manner of speaking. 
 
 10 ujj^ tJ'-Ni-soN," in agreement; in har- 
 mony. 
 
 11 Btjf'-fet, a blow. 
 
 12 In-vol'-un-ta-ei-ly, without thought or 
 will. 
 
 13 Fal-la'-ciotjs, deceptive. 
 1* Wo0NP, gradually elevated. 
 
 15 Poe-tent'-ous, that which threatens 
 something ill. 
 
 LESSON XXI. 
 
 FATHER WILLIAM. 
 
 1 . " You are old, Father WilHam," the young man cried, 
 " The few locks that are left you are gray ; 
 You are hale. Father William, a hearty old man, 
 Now tell me the reason, I pray." 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 269 
 
 2. " In the days of my youth," Father William replied, 
 
 " I remembered that youth would fly fast ; 
 And abused not my health and my vigor at first, 
 That I never might need them at last." 
 
 3. " You are old. Father WilHam," the young man cried, 
 
 " And pleasures with youth pass away ; 
 And yet you lament not the days that have gone, 
 'Now tell me the reason, I pray." 
 
 4. " In the days of my youth," Father "William replied, 
 
 " I remembered that youth could not last ; 
 I thought of the future, whatever I did. 
 That I never might grieve for the past." 
 
 6. " You are old. Father "William," the young man cried, 
 " And life must be hastening away ; 
 You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death, 
 Now tell me the reason, I pray." 
 
 6. "I am cheerful, young man," Father "William replied, 
 " Let the cause thy attention engage : 
 I?i the days of my youth I remembered my God, 
 And he hath not forgotten my age.'''' 
 
 SODTHEY. 
 
 LESSON xxn. 
 
 JOHN LITTLEJOHN. 
 
 1. John Littlejohn was stanch and strong, 
 Upright and downright, scorning wrong ; 
 He gave good weight, and paid his way, 
 He thought for himself, and he said his say ; 
 "Whenever a rascal strove to pass, 
 Instead of silver, a coin of brass, 
 
 He took his hammer, and said, with a frown, 
 " The coin is spurious, nail it down^'' 
 
 2. John Littlejohn was firm and true. 
 
 You could not cheat him in " two and two ;" 
 "When foolish arguers, might and main, 
 Darkened and twisted the clear and plain. 
 
270 WILLSON's fourth KEADEE. Part TV. 
 
 He saw, thron^h the mazes of their speech, 
 The simple truth beyond their reach ; 
 And crushing their logic, said, with a frown, 
 " Your coin is spurious, nail it down^ 
 
 3. John Littlejohn maintained the right. 
 Through storm and shine, in the world's despite ; 
 When fools or quacks desired his vote, 
 
 Dosed him with arguments learned by rote. 
 Or by coaxing, threats, or promise, tried 
 To gain his support to the wrongful side, 
 "iV«;y, nay^"* said John, with an angry frown, 
 " Your coin is spurious, nail it doionP 
 
 4. When told that kings had a right divine, 
 And that the people were herds of swine. 
 That nobles alone were fit to rul6. 
 
 That the poor were unimproved by school, 
 That ceaseless toil was the proper fate 
 Of all but the wealthy and the great, 
 John shook his head, and said, with a frown, 
 " The coin is spurious, nail it down.'''' 
 
 6. When told that events might justify 
 A false and crooked pohcy ; 
 That a decent hope of future good 
 Might excuse departure from rectitude ; 
 That a lie, if white, was a small offense, 
 To be forgiven by men of sense, 
 " N^ay, nay,^"* said John, with a sigh and a fi*own, 
 *' The coin is spurious, nail it down?"* 
 
 Chaeles Mackat. 
 
 LESSON xxm. 
 
 THE VISION OF MIRZA. 
 
 1. On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the 
 custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having 
 washed myself, and offered up my morning devotions, I as- 
 cended the high hills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 271 
 
 the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here airing my- 
 self on the .tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound con- 
 templation on the vanity of human life ; and, passing from 
 one thought to another, "Surely," said I, "man is but a 
 shadow, and life a dream." 
 
 2. While I was thus musing, I cast my eyes toward the 
 summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discover- 
 ed one in the habit of a shepherd, with a musical instrument 
 in his hand. As I looked upon him he applied it to his lips, 
 and began to play upon it. The sound of it was exceeding 
 sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes that were inex- 
 pressibly melodious, and altogether different from any thing I 
 had ever heard. They put me in mind of those heavenly airs 
 that are played to the departed souls of good men upon their 
 first arrival in Paraflise, to wear out the impressions of the 
 last agonies, and quahfy them for the pleasures of that happy 
 place. 
 
 3. My heart melted away in secret raptures. I had been 
 often told that the rock before me was the haunt of a Genius, 
 and that several had been entertained with music, who had 
 passed by it, but never heard that the musician had before 
 made himself visible. When he had raised my thoughts, by 
 those transporting airs which he played, to taste the pleasure 
 of his conversation, as I looked upon him, like one astonished, 
 he beckoned to me, and, by the waving of his hand, directed 
 me to approach the place where he sat. 
 
 4. I drew near, with that reverence which is due to a su- 
 perior nature ; and, as my heart was entirely subdued by the 
 captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and 
 wept. The Genius smiled upon me with a look of compas- 
 sion and affabihty that familiarized him to my imagination, 
 and at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with 
 which I approached him. He lifted me from the ground, and, 
 taking me by the hand, " Mirza," said he, " I have heard thee 
 in thy soliloquies : follow me." 
 
 5. He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and, 
 placing me on the top of it, " Cast thy eyes eastward," said 
 he, " and tell me what thou seest." " I see," said I, " a huge 
 valley, and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it." 
 
272 willson's foubth eeader, paet IV. 
 
 " The valley that thou seest," said he, " is the valley of mis- 
 ery, and the tide of water that thou seest is part of the great 
 tide of eternity." " What is the reason," said I, " that the 
 tide I see rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses 
 itself in a thick mist at the other?" 
 
 6. " What thou seest," said he, " is that portion of eternity 
 which is called time, measured out by the sun, and reaching 
 from the beginning of the world to its consummation. Ex- 
 amine now," said he, " this sea, that is thus bounded with 
 darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in 
 it." " I see a bridge," said I, " standing in the midst of the 
 tide." " The bridge thou seest," said he, " is human life : 
 consider it attentively." Upon a more leisurely survey of it, 
 I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, 
 with several broken arches, which, adde4 to those that were 
 entire, made up the number about a hundred. 
 
 7. As I was counting the arches, the Genius told me that 
 this bridge consisted at first of a thousand arches, but that a 
 great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the 
 ruinous condition I now beheld it. " But tell me farther," 
 said he, " what thou discoverest on it." *' I see multitudes 
 of people passing over it," said I, " and a black cloud hang- 
 ing on each end of it." ^ 
 
 8. As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the pas- 
 sengers dropping through the bridge into the great tide that 
 flowed underneath it ; and, upon farther examination, per- 
 ceived there were innumerable trap-doors that lay concealed 
 in the bridge, which the passengers no sooner trod upon than 
 they fell through them mto the tide, and unmediately disap- 
 peared. These hidden pitfalls were set very thick at the en- 
 trance of the bridge, so that throngs of people no sooner 
 broke through the cloud than many of them fell into them. 
 They grew thinner toward the middle, but multiplied and 
 lay closer together toward the end of the arches that were 
 entire. 
 
 9. There were, indeed, some persons, but their number 
 was very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on 
 the broken arches, but fell through, one after another, being 
 quite tired and spent with so long a walk. I passed some 
 
Part IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 273 
 
 time in the contemplation of this wonderful structure, and 
 the great variety of objects which it presented. 
 
 10. My heart was filled with a deep melancholy to see sev- 
 eral dropping, unexpectedly, in the midst of mirth and jollity, 
 and catching by every thing that stood by them to save 
 themselves. Some were looking up toward the heavens in 
 a thoughtful posture, and, in the midst of a speculation, 
 stumbled and fell out of sight. Multitudes were very busy 
 in the pursuit of bubbles, that glittered in their eyes and 
 danced before them; but often, when they thought them- 
 selves within the reach of them, their footing failed, and 
 down they sunk. 
 
 1 1 . In this confusion of objects, I observed some with cim- 
 eters in their hands, and others with lancets, who ran to and 
 fro upon the bridge, thrusting seve^-al persons on trap-doors 
 which did not seem to he in their way, and which thej^ 
 might have escaped had they not been thus forced upon 
 them. 
 
 12. The Genius, seeing me indulge myself in this melan- 
 choly prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it. 
 " Take thine eyes off the bridge," said he, " and tell me if thou 
 yet seest any thing thou dost not comprehend." Upon look- 
 ing up, " What mean," said I, " those great flights of birds 
 that are perpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling 
 upon it from time to time ? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, 
 cormorants, and, among many other feathered creatures, sev- 
 eral little winged boys, that perch, in great numbers, upon 
 the middle arches." 
 
 13. "These," said the Genius, "are Envy, Avarice, Super- 
 stition, Despau", Love, with the like cares and passions that 
 infest human life." I here fetched a deep sigh. "Alas!" 
 said I, " man was made in vain ! how is he given away to 
 misery and mortality ! tortured in life, and swallowed up in 
 death !" The Genius, being moved with compassion toward 
 me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a prospect. "Look no 
 more," said he, " on man in the first stage of his existence, in 
 his setting out for eternity, but cast thine eye on that thick 
 mist, into which the tide bears the several generations of 
 mortals that fall into it." 
 
 M2 
 
274 WILLSON's fourth reader. Part IV. 
 
 14. I directed my sight as I was ordered, and, whether or 
 no the good Genius strengthened it with any supernatural 
 force, or dissipated part of the mist, that was before too thick 
 for the eye to penetrate, I saw the valley opening at the far- 
 ther end, and spreading forth into an immense ocean, that 
 had a huge rock of adamant running through the midst of it, 
 and dividing it into two equal parts. The clouds still rested 
 on one half of it, insomuch that I could discover nothing hi 
 it ; but the other" appeared to me a vast ocean, planted with 
 innumerable islands, that were covered with fruits and flow- 
 ers, and interwoven with a thousand little shining seas, that 
 ran among them. 
 
 15. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, with gar- 
 lands upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down 
 by the sides of fountains, or resting on beds of flowers ; and 
 could hear a confused harmony of singing birds, falling wa- 
 ters, human voices, and musical instruments. Gladness grew 
 in me upon the discovery of so delightful a sc.ene. I wished 
 for the wings of an eagle, that I might fly away to those hap- 
 py seats ; but the Genius told me there was no passage to 
 them except through the gates of death, that I saw opening 
 every moment upon the bridge. 
 
 16. " The islands," said he, " that lie so fresh and green be- 
 fore thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean appears 
 spotted, as far as thou canst see, are more in number than 
 the sands on the sea-shore. There are myriads of islands 
 behind those which thou here discoverest, reaching farther 
 than thine eye or even thine imagination can extend itself. 
 These are the mansions of good men after death, who, ac- 
 cording to the degrees and kinds of virtue in which they ex- 
 celled, are distributed among these several islands, which 
 abound with pleasures of diftcrent kinds and degrees, suita- 
 ble to the relishes and perfections of those who are settled in 
 them. Every island is a paradise accommodated to its re- 
 spective inhabitants. 
 
 17. "Are not these, oh Mirza, habitations worth contending 
 for? Does life appear miserable, that gives thee opportuni- 
 ties of earning such a reward ? Is death to be feared, that 
 will convey thee to so happy an existence ? Think not man 
 
Paiit IV. MISCELLANEOUS. 215 
 
 was made in vain, who has "such an eternity reserved for 
 him." I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on those happy 
 islands. At length, said I, " Show me now, I beseech thee, 
 the secrets that lie under those dark clouds that cover the 
 ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant." 
 
 18. The Genius making me no answer, I turned about to 
 address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had 
 left me. I then turned again to the vision which I had been 
 so long contemplating; but, instead of the rolling tide, the 
 arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the 
 long, hollow valley of Bagdat, with oxen, sheep, and camels 
 grazing upon the sides of it. Addison. 
 
 LESSON XXIV. 
 CHRIST'S SECOND COMING. 
 
 1. The Lord shall come ! The earth shall quake. 
 The mountains to their centre shake ; 
 
 And, withering from the vault of night. 
 The stars shall pale their feeble light. 
 The Lord shall come ! a dreadful form. 
 With rainbow wreath and robes of storm, 
 On cherub wings, and wings of wind. 
 Appointed Judge of all mankind. 
 
 2. Can this be He, who wont to stray 
 A pilgrim on the world's highway, 
 Oppress'd by power, and mock'd by pride, 
 The Nazarene — the crucified ? 
 
 While sinners in despair shall call, 
 " Rocks, hide us ; mountains, on us fall !" 
 The saints, ascending from the tomb, 
 Shall joyful sing, "The Lord is come!" 
 
 3. "And they said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on u?, 
 and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, 
 and from the wrath of the Lamb : for the great day of his 
 wrath is come, and who shall be able to stand ?" — Rev., vi., 
 16,17. 
 
276 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part^^ 
 
 PART Y. 
 
 FIEST DIVISION OF KATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 [This subject is continued in the Fifth Reader.] 
 
 LESSON L 
 
 THE SCHOOL AT GLENWILD. 
 1. In the delightful retreat of Glen wild, near a small vil- 
 lage in one of the middle states of our Union, resided Mr. 
 and Mrs. Maynard, who had a select family school of some 
 twenty pupils. A leading object with Mr. and Mrs. M. in 
 opening the school was the education of their own children, 
 who were Master Edward, a lad of nine years, Charles, a lad 
 of eleven, and Ella, their only daughter, who had just entered 
 her fourteenth year. • 
 
1st Div. OF NATTTKAL PHILOSOPHY. 277 
 
 2. The building occupied as the school and dwelling-house 
 was a venerable^ mansion, built in the old Dutch style, with 
 gambreP roof and dormer^ windows, and a wide piazza ex- 
 tending the whole length of the side of the house, where was 
 the main entrance. A beautiful lawn spread out in front, 
 bordered on the left by a rivulet from the hills, which formed 
 a pretty waterfall where it entered the glen below, while on 
 the right a sturdy oak, that had probably withstood the 
 storms of five hundred winters, lifted its gnarled'^ but still 
 luxuriant branches to the sky. 
 
 3. In the background, groves of chestnut and maple, skirt- 
 ing the hills, were reUeved by the deeper green of an occa- 
 sional towering pine or hemlock ; a quiet stream, which mod- 
 ern geographers have not even deigned to notice, but which 
 was known in that region as " The River," wound its peace- 
 ful way through meadow-lands in a long line of silvery bright- 
 ness ; and from both sides of the valley arose undulating^ 
 highlands, stretching away to the southward in gentle ridges, 
 and blending, in the distance, into the bolder outlines of the 
 AUeghanies. 
 
 4. The most charming nook in all this secluded and peace- 
 ful valley was Glen wild, situated just above the point where 
 " The River" enters a wild and rocky glen ; and this delight- 
 ful spot Mr. Maynard had chosen for his home, and his family 
 school; and here, partially withdrawing himself from the 
 busy world, he devoted all the energies of a powerful and 
 well-trained intellect to the business of educating his own 
 children, and a few others committed to his care. 
 
 5. Mr. Maynard was a teacher who really loved his youth- 
 ful charge ; and this, combined with the vast fund^ of infor- 
 mation which he possessed, and the delight which he took in 
 imparting'' knowledge to the young, was doubtless the reason 
 why he was so beloved by his pupils. A consistent Chris- 
 tian, he was also a devoted^ student of Nature, reading les- 
 sons of wisdom in all her works ; and he had the peculiar 
 faculty of inspiring others with a portion of his own enthusi- 
 asm for the pursuits of science. 
 
 6. This model man and teacher was the almost constant 
 companion of his pupils, to whom nothing was more delight- 
 
278 WILLSOn's fourth reader. Part v. 
 
 ful than to be told all they wished to know ; and he who 
 joined them in their pastimes,^ who accompanied them in 
 their rambles, who flew their kites, helped construct their 
 water-wheels and wind-mills, who artfully drew forth and 
 answered all the thousand and one questions of prattling, in- 
 quisitive childhood, was the loved and guardian genius of the 
 little group. 
 
 7. In such a school, and with such a teacher, it is not sur- 
 prising that the branches studied, even by the younger pu- 
 pils, were numerous and important, and such as are often 
 deemed tedious and uninviting by those who have merely the 
 barren tree of knowledge presented them, stripped of both 
 fruit and foliage. But Mr. M. did not limit his educational 
 views and labors to the duties of the school-room. The va- 
 rious plans which he suggested to his pupils for their hours 
 of recreation were wisely designed for opening to their view 
 some of the most interesting fields of knowledge. 
 
 8. It was in the various departments of natural history, 
 especially, that the pupils of Mr. Maynard found a fund of 
 combined information and amusement that tasked^ ^ all their 
 energies without ever wearying them. Nature was to them 
 a vast bazar^i — ^ curiosity shop from which they had col- 
 lected a miniature^^ Q^ie of their own. They knew at sight 
 the kinds of trees that grew in the woodlands around, and 
 could tell both their botanical and their common names ; not 
 a flower did they pass in their rambles without inquiring of 
 their teacher its name and properties ; and each had collected 
 a neat herbarium' ^ of his own ; and from the stream, the 
 glen, and the hill-side, they had made a handsome collection 
 of specimens for a geological cabinet. 
 
 9. They could tell the names and characteristics of all the 
 songsters that warbled in the neighboring groves, and of the 
 fish that filled the streams ; while the thousand insects that 
 sported in the summer air were, to them, objects, not of an- 
 noyance or curiosity merely, but of rational amusement and 
 instruction; and their numerous entomologicaP* specimens 
 would have done credit to older naturalists than they were. 
 How surprising it is that all teachers do not cultivate for 
 their own gratification, .and instruct their pupils in a science 
 
1st Div. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 279 
 
 so rich in interest, so abundant in ready materials for its 
 prosecution, and so impressive of the lesson that we live " in 
 a bright and breathing world." 
 
 10. Like all things else, a walk of a summer's evening was 
 turned to profitable account. Nothing could be more inter- 
 esting to these children than to listen to the mysteries of the 
 heavens, as they were unfolded^^ by their beloved teacher. 
 And as they learned the names, distances, and revolutions of 
 some of the visible planets, were they not taking lessons in 
 the sublime science of astronomy ? And while, with new- 
 born rapture, they gazed upon " the multitude of the heaven- 
 ly host, 
 
 ''Forever singing as they shine, 
 The hand that made us is divine,^'' 
 
 what question was more naturally suggested to their inquiring 
 minds than this : " Who made them allf'' And what would 
 be more likely to direct their thoughts upward from Nature 
 to Nature's God ? 
 
 11. But we must close our description. "With a teacher 
 whose whole soul was imbued^*^ with science — prodigaP' of 
 his intellectual wealth — " his bounty boundless as the sea, his 
 love as deep" — what branch of useful knowledge would be 
 neglected in his constant intercourse with his pupils ? Every 
 object in nature, however seemingly insignificant — it might 
 be a blade of grass, an insect's wing, a dew-drop, or a mote 
 
 that floats in the sunbeam — would elicit^^ in 
 
 quny. 
 
 awaken 
 
 thought, and lead to the explanation of interesting truths in 
 philosophy ; for those who early form habits of constant ob- 
 servation, and cultivate an inquiring state of mind, will find 
 
 ' ' Books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, 
 And good in every thing." 
 
 Ven'-er-a-ble, deserving of respect on ac- 
 count of its age and appearance. 
 Gam'-beel, having a double roof on each 
 side. 
 
 Dor'-mee, a window placed in a small 
 gable in the roof. 
 Gnael'ed, knotty ; full of knots. 
 Un'-du-la-ting, rising and falling ; hav- 
 ing a wavy outline. 
 Fund, abundance. 
 Im-paet'-ino, communicating. 
 Ue-vOt'-kd, ardent; zealous. 
 Pa8'-tTme», sports ; amusements. 
 
 10 Task'ed, called into exercise. 
 
 1 1 Ba-zae', market-place ; store-house. 
 
 12 Min'-i-a-toee, one on a small scale. 
 
 13 Her-ba'-ei-um, a collection of plants care- 
 fully dried and preserved. 
 
 1* EN-TO-MO-T.OfV-i€-Ai., pertaining to the 
 science of insects. 
 
 15 UN-FOLt>'-Ei>, explained ; displayed. 
 
 16 Im-bu'ep, filled with ; tinged or colored 
 deeply, as, to imhtie cloth. 
 
 17 Prod'-i-g.*l, using freely; lavish. 
 
 18 K-Lic'-iT, call foi'th. 
 
280 
 
 wlllson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 LESSOK II. 
 THE VOLUNTEER PHILOSOPHY CLASS. 
 
 George. 
 
 Mr. Maynard. 
 
 John. 
 
 Frank. 
 
 1. *' 'Happy the man, who, studying Nature's laws, 
 
 Through known eflfects can trace the secret cause.* 
 
 " Who was the author of these two lines ?" said Mr. May- 
 nard to five intelligent and attentive pupils, who had request- 
 ed him to meet them every Saturday morning for the pur- 
 pose of instruction m Natural Philosophy. This volunteer 
 philosophy class was composed of three boys and two girls, 
 who had solicited^ from him the favor of an hour's extra in- 
 struction once a week. 
 
 2. The request was most cheerfully complied with by the 
 kind preceptor, who was never weary of the company of wis- 
 dom-loving scholars. The class consisted of Masters Franks 
 George^ and John^ and Misses Ida and Ella. Frank had al- 
 
281 
 
 ways lived in a city, and had the name of being a good Latin 
 scholar for a lad of fifteen. George, who was the son of a 
 farmer near Glenwild, was fourteen years old, and was called 
 good at figures, while John, whose father was a miller some 
 miles up the valley, had astonished the gazing rustics by the 
 ingenious contrivances he had introduced into a model mill, 
 constructed by his own hands before he was thirteen years 
 of age. He was now seventeen. 
 
 3. Ida, who was fifteen, had studied philosophy at a fash- 
 ionable boarding-school, where they had a new and easy con- 
 veyance up the hill of science, something after the style of a 
 sedan chair, in which she had paid her fare. Ella, as we have 
 said, was the daughter of Mr. Maynard, and, from her famil- 
 iarity with various pieces of apparatus, had gained many ideas 
 of the study which she now for the first time engaged in ; but 
 she thought herself but a beginner, as her first lesson had not 
 yet been recited. 
 
 4. " Who was the author of the lines I just repeated ?" said 
 Mr. M. " Virgil said about tlie same thing," replied Frank. 
 " Kight," said the teacher ; " and the study is no less pleas- 
 ing to boys and girls than to men, and no less pleasing now 
 than it was two thousand years ago. Yes, Virgil was right. 
 The study that leads to the explanation of the general prop- 
 erties^ of bodies, and the laws which they obey, is most de- 
 lightful. 
 
 5. " The wordphilosophy,''^ continued Mr. Maynard, "means 
 a love of wisdom or hnowledge; and one who consistently ap- 
 plies himself to acquire it is 2, philosopher^ or lover of knowl- 
 edge. Like Norval's father, ' whose constant care was to in- 
 crease Jiis store,' the student of philosophy should constantly 
 seek to know the causes of things. 
 
 6. "As all our knowledge of things around us is derived^ 
 through the medium* of the senses — seeing^ feeling^ hearing^ 
 tasting^ and smelling^ and we may add lifting — the advice 
 of Brutus to the Romans, ' Awake your senses, that you may 
 the better judge,' applies to those who would study philoso- 
 phy. They should be accurate observers of Nature ; and in 
 the boundless field which Nature opens they will find abund- 
 ant materials to interest and instruct them. 
 
282 WILLSON's fourth READ:ftR. Part V. 
 
 7. " But let me explain to you, my youug pupils, the nature 
 of the study we are about to engage in. We shall have to 
 learn why the balloon rises in the air, as well as why the div- 
 ing-bell sinks in the water ; how images are reflected from 
 mirrors, or permanently fixed on metal or paper by the pho- 
 tographer f why water rises in a common pumjD, or is thrown 
 by engines on the blazing building ; how invisible wonders 
 are revealed by the microscope, and the myriads of stars, un- 
 seen by the naked eye, appear by aid of the telescope ; how, 
 by the same wind, vessels can sail in opposite directions; 
 what turns the needle toward the pole, or conveys intelligence 
 with lightning speed; the causes of clouds and rainbows; of 
 winds, and dew, and rain ; of thunder and of lightning. The 
 barometer, the thermometer, and the various instruments of 
 modern scientific investigation will also claim our attention." 
 
 8. Here Miss Ida ventured to remark that she had often 
 seen the expression, "the charms of Nature," and had always 
 supposed the study of Nature was more poetical than philo- 
 sophical — that it treated of such things as beautiful scenery, 
 and birds, and flowers, .and winding streams, and cooling 
 fountains ; and that, while it was a very pleasant and agreea- 
 ble study, it was not particularly useful. 
 
 9. "I am not surprised," said Mr. Maynard, "that you 
 should have entertained^ this view of the study of Nature, 
 for it is the view most frequently expressed in poetry ; but it 
 is only a partial view of that great subject. We shall find, 
 as Hamlet expresses it, that ' there are more things in heav- 
 en and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy,' if our 
 knowledge of Nature has been limited to its outward as- 
 pects,^ to the neglect of the great principles and l^ws, of 
 which the ' charms of Nature' that you speak of are merely 
 the outward expression." 
 
 10. Ida did not seem fully to understand these remarks, 
 and Mr. Maynard continued : " It will afibrd me much pleas- 
 ure to illustrate the truths of philosophy by many pleasing 
 and instructive experiments, as we meet from time to time. 
 I will assign you a subject for our next interview, and hope 
 you will find out all you can about it from any books you 
 may have on Philosophy, as well as from conversation with 
 
tst Div. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPFY. 
 
 283 
 
 your schoolmates and others. In order to aid you in your 
 pleasant task, I will allow you to examine any books in my 
 own library, and I assure you you will find much interesting 
 matter for our conversations in books not called Philosophies. 
 Our first topic will be the Properties of Matter^'' 
 
 11. With this introductory explanation of the nature of 
 the subject, Mr. Maynard dismissed his pupils, who, however, 
 stopped a short time on the lawn in front of the building, 
 talking over various topics which his remarks had suggested. 
 Then they separated to make preparations for the enjoyment 
 of their Saturday's holiday. Ida and Ella, accompanied by 
 Frank, and Ella's younger brothers Edward and Charles, 
 were going down the glen to gather wild flowers; and John 
 and George were going, as usual, to their respective homes 
 to pass the Sabbath, and return to school on the Monday fol- 
 lowing. 
 
 > So-lTo'-it-et>, earnestly requested. 
 
 2 Pkop'-ee-ties, the peculiar or essential 
 qualities of a thing; thus, extension and 
 figure are properties of bodies. 
 
 3 Db-bivkd', received ; obtained. 
 
 * Me'-di-tim, the means or instrument. 
 
 5 Pno-TOG'-RA-niER, one who takes pictnr 
 by the daguerreotype. 
 
 6 En-tkr-tain'ed, had ; had in mind- 
 
 7 A8'-PE€TS, appearances. 
 
 LESSON III. 
 
 THE PROPERTIES OF MATTER. 
 
 1. Satitrdat morning having arrived, the members of our 
 Volunteer Philosophy Class were again assembled in the li- 
 brary at the hour appointed. As they had frequently talked 
 over the subject of the lesson with each other during the 
 week, and had found some difiiculties attending it, the re- 
 marks of the teacher were looked forward to with much in- 
 terest. Mr. Maynard, having requested them to be seated, 
 thus began : 
 
 2. Mr. M. Strange as it may seem to you, my young pupils, 
 some learned men have denied the existence of every kind of 
 matter whatever. Berkeley, the ingenious Bishop of Cloyne, 
 whose portrait is conspicuous in the Trumbull Gallery of 
 Paintings in Yale College, was one of those philosophers who 
 in earnest argument denied that there is any matter. Of 
 him Byron wrote, 
 
284 willson's fourth reader. part v. 
 
 "When Bishop Berkeley said, 'There was no matter,' 
 And proved it, 'twas no matter what he said." 
 
 3. I have heard of the following sensible answers to two 
 important questions. '''What is matter P Never mind. 
 
 What is mindf JVb matter, ^^ But who will answer the 
 question, " What is matter ?" 
 
 4. Ida. All things which we see or feel are composed^ of 
 matter. 
 
 Mr. M. That is doubtless true, and yet it is hardly a defini- 
 tion. It is difficult to define matter in few words, but we may 
 say it is the substance of which all bodies are composed. It 
 may exist either in the form of a solid, as ice, or in a liquid 
 state, as water, or in a gaseous condition, as steam, and yet 
 be the same matter. Can you think of any matter that does 
 not occupy some space ? 
 
 5. John. I can not. I was thinking the other day of the 
 space occupied by the finest particle of the finest flour ; that 
 it must be somethiiig, since enough of these particles may be 
 collected to fill a barrel or freight^ a ship. 
 
 Mr. 31. And did it occur to you, John, that what you call 
 a particle of the finest flour is itself composed of millions of 
 atoms, of which there are at least three different kinds in the 
 fine flour dust' ? 
 
 John. I can not think of atoms so small as they must be. 
 
 6. Mr. M. I hope that before you leave this school you will 
 be able to think of the atoms of the flour dust, and not only 
 that, but think of an atom of one kind as being eight times 
 the weight of an atom of another kind. Science^ will enable 
 us to weigh the atoms, invisible* though they are, in relative 
 terms ; and also to weigh the earth, moon, planets, comets, 
 and even the sun. But if every atom of matter must occupy 
 some space, can two atoms occupy the same space at the same 
 time'? 
 
 7. George. Ko, sir ; and is not this the very property call- 
 ed in the books impenetrability ?^ 
 
 Mr. 3f. It is ; and the property of occupying some space is 
 called extension. As without these two properties we can 
 form no idea of matter, they are said to be inseparable or es- 
 sential properties. Tell me why the water does not rise in 
 
1st Div. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHT. 285 
 
 the inverted^ tumbler which I plunge beneath the surface of 
 water in the basin. 
 
 8. John. Because the tumbler is filled with air, which is 
 one kind of matter, and also owing to the principle of impene- 
 trability; for water and air can not occupy the same space 
 at the same time. I saw a boy who had just entered a drug 
 store as assistant attempt to fill a bottle through a closely- 
 fitting funnel '^ but the liquid rose up in the funnel, and 
 would not run into the bottle till he attempted to withdraw 
 the funnel, when it was quickly emptied. I think that must 
 have been a dear experiment to him, as the liquid was a strong 
 acid, which ruined his clothes, as it ran over the bottle on the 
 removal of the funnel. 
 
 9. Mr. M. Yes, that illustrated the impenetrability of air to 
 the liquid ; and very probably, if you had seen the conclusion 
 of the dear experiment, you would have witnessed the break- 
 ing of the bottle by the efibrt to force into the neck a close- 
 ly-fitting cork when the bottle was already full ; and this 
 would have afibrded an illustration^ of the impenetrability of 
 a liquid to a solid. 
 
 George. I think the boy should have taken a few lessons in 
 philosophy before entering upon such a Jo7^^7osopA^c«^ business. 
 
 10. Mr. M. All ice do is in accordance with, or in violation 
 of philosophical principles, many of which we shall discuss in 
 these conversations. Whenever we succeed, or have good 
 luck, it is because we observe those principles ; and when we 
 fail, it is because we violate them, or act in ignorance of their 
 existence. There are other properties, which do not seem 
 essential to our ideas of matter, and which are nevertheless 
 general properties of matter, or, as they are sometimes called, 
 accidental properties. These are divisibility^^ porosity ^'^^ in- 
 ertia,^^Jigure, and attraction. 
 
 11. Ida. I learned these as essew^za/ properties of matter. 
 Mr. M. It may not be of much importance to us now to 
 
 discuss that point, but can you not think of an atom^ or in- 
 divisible particle ? If so, divisibility is not an essential prop- 
 erty ; for matter may exist without being divisible. 
 
 Frank. I have been puzzled to know what is meant in the 
 books by such words as atom^ Tnolecule^"^ and particle. 
 
286 willson's fourth reader. Part v. 
 
 12. Mr. M. I am glad you have asked the question; for 
 the most important thing in starting is to know what we are 
 talking about, and I urge you always to obtain clear defini- 
 tions of terms. The word atom means any thing that can 
 not be cut or divided. It is the smallest part of a body. A 
 number of atoms form a molecule^ and a number of molecules 
 form a particle. Please remember this. I now desire to 
 hear from each of you the most surprising instance of division 
 of matter that you have been able to find. 
 
 13. Ida. A single grain of musk will perfume a room for 
 many years and still be a grain of musk. I suppose, wherever 
 the musk is perceived, there must be particles enough to af- 
 fect the sense of smell. 
 
 Ella. The thread of a spider's web, which I can scarcely 
 see, is composed of 6000 single threads, according to the 
 books, though I do not know how any body can see and 
 count them. 
 
 14. Frank. One grain of carmine^^ will tinge ten pounds of 
 water so that the color may be seen. I have also read that two 
 grains of silk have been spun into a thread 300 yards in length. 
 
 John. A single grain of gold has been divided into three 
 million six hundred thousand parts, each visible through a 
 microscope magnifying 500 times. 
 
 George. Dogs pursue their game by means of odors im- 
 perceptible^'^ by man, and I suppose these odors must consist 
 of very minute atoms or particles of matter difiiised through 
 the air. 
 
 Franh. There is another interesting example o^ practical 
 divisibility which I had forgotten to mention. I have seen 
 it stated that artists, aided by the microscope, have ruled 
 parallel lines upon glass, with a diamond point, so close to 
 each other that ten thousand are contained in a single inch. 
 
 15. Mr. M. Your examples are well chosen. I will name 
 but a single one. Ehrenberg has found the shells of animals 
 so small that the one hundred and forty-fourth part of a cubic 
 inch contained twenty-three millions of them ! These ani- 
 mals must have had limbs, and blood circulating through their 
 tiny veins, and this blood was doubtless itself compounded 
 of various kinds of molecules, each itself composed of atoms. 
 
1st DiV. OF NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 287 
 
 16. Johyi. It seems scarcely possible that real live animals 
 so small can exist ! 
 
 Mr. 31. When we take up the study of the " Microscopic 
 World" we shall find stranger things than these to excite our 
 wonder. The next property of matter is porosity. What do 
 you understand by it ? 
 
 JoJui. It is the quahty or state of having pores or openings 
 in it. It means that the particles of matter are not close to- 
 gether, and the farther apart they are, the more porous is the 
 substance. It is the opposite o^ density. ^^ 
 
 17. Mr. M. Very well; and now each of you may give an 
 example of porosity. 
 
 Ida. I have seen mercury forced through the pores of oak, 
 and faU in a fine shower. That showed that the oak was 
 porous or full of small holes. 
 
 Ella. We can put a large quantity of cotton into a tum- 
 bler completely ^^^66? with spirits of wine, and none of the 
 liquid will overflow. 
 
 Joh7i. Salt can be put into water without increasing its 
 bulk. This shows that the particles of water are not close 
 together, and that there is room between them for the salt. 
 
 18. Frank. A pint of alcohol and a pint of water will not 
 make a quart of mixture. I think this must be due to poros- 
 ity also. 
 
 George. I have read that there are innumerable small pores 
 in the skin, through which insensible perspiration passes. 
 
 3Ir. M. It is evident that if there were no porosity^ and 
 the particles of matter were already close together, they could 
 not be brought any closer together by pressure. Matter is 
 therefore said to have the property of compressihility.^^ 
 
 Frank. Can matter in all of its three forms, solid., liquid., 
 and gaseous^ be compressed ? 
 
 19. Mr. M. It can, though water is compressible only in a 
 slight degree compared with air. Matter in every form can 
 also be expanded by heat. • But I perceive we shall not have 
 time to finish the subject of the properties of matter during 
 the hour, and we will therefore leave the remaining topics 
 for our next conversation. In the mean time you will recol- 
 lect that on next Saturday we are to talk about the remain- 
 
288 
 
 willson's fourth header. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 ing general or accidental properties of matter, which are in- 
 ertia^ figure^ and attraction ; and if we have time we shall 
 also call your attention to the specific properties of matter. 
 I will not mention now what these properties are, but hope 
 each of you will find out, and learn what you can about 
 them. 
 
 1 €om-po$'ed, formed ; made of. 
 
 2 Freight {/rate), to load with goods. 
 
 3 ScT'-ENCE, knowledge ; a collection of the 
 general principles or leading truths relat- 
 ing to any subject. 
 
 * In-vi$'-i-ble, that can not be seen. 
 
 5 Im-pen-e-tea-bil'-i-ty, that quality of 
 matter by which it excludes all other mat- 
 ter from the space it occupies. 
 
 6 In-veet'-ed, turned upside down. 
 
 7 Fxm'-NEL, a tunnel. 
 
 8 Il-lus-tba'-tion, that which explains or 
 renders any thing more clear. 
 
 9 Di-vis-i-bil'-i-tt, the quality of being di- 
 JO Po-Eos'-i-TY. [visible. 
 
 11 In-ee'-tia (in-er'-shd). 
 
 12 Mol'-e-€Cle (or Mole'-€ule), a name 
 given to the minute particles of bodies. 
 
 13 tJAB'-MiNE, a beautiful red color. 
 
 1* Im-per-oep'-ti-ble, that can not be per- 
 ceived by the senses. 
 
 15 Dens'-i-ty, closeness or compactness of 
 parts. 
 
 16 Com-peess-i-bil'-i-ty, the quality of 
 being brought into a smaller compass by 
 pressure. 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 
 THE PROPERTIES OF MATTER— Continued. 
 
 1. The class having assembled in the library as usual, Mr. 
 Maynard asked John if he could describe that property of 
 matter called hiertia. 
 
 John. It is that property by which matter tends to retain 
 its present state, whether of motion Or rest. 
 
 Mr. M. True, that is the scientific definition ; but can you 
 show me that you understand the subject by giving illustra- 
 tive examples of inertia? 
 
 2. John. Our mill never starts till some one lets the water 
 on the wheel, and thus sets it in motion. 
 
 George. It is always harder for the horses to start a load- 
 ed wagon than to draw it when in motion. 
 
 Frank. I have seen a boy standing up in a cart fall back- 
 ward when the cart was suddenly put in motioo, and I think 
 this must be due to the inertia of the boy. 
 
 3. Ida. I was once thrown from a horse by his starting 
 suddenly forward. 
 
 Ella. Inertia is certainly a very accidental property, for I 
 was once thrown over a horse's head, from his suddenly stop- 
 ping when I had been riding rapidly. 
 
 4. Mr. M. A knowledge of the inertia of matter should make 
 
1st DiV. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 289 
 
 US cautious how we suddenly change our 
 
 condition, either of motion or rest. I will 
 
 show by experiment the inertia of a brass 
 
 ball; I place a stiff card on a pillar, and 
 
 then, by means of a spring, I drive the card 
 
 from under the ball which was resting upon 
 
 it. The ball will be found on the pillar, 
 
 from which the card has been removed. 
 
 Fig. 1. Whatever tends to change the state of 
 
 matter, whether of rest or motion, is called force. There is 
 
 also a property of matter 0,2!^^^ figure. Can you tell me 
 
 what is meant by it ? 
 
 5. Frank. I understand it to mean form^ as all matter 
 must have some/brw or shape. 
 
 Mr. M. True ; and many bodies have forms peculiar to 
 themselves, such as crystals. You perhaps recollect having 
 seen crystals of common salt ; and they are always cubical, or, 
 as you might call them, square blocks. Liquids have no pe- 
 culiar form, but assume^ that of the vessel containing them. 
 Attraction is another general property of matter. Some- 
 times weighty which is one kind of attraction, is called a dis- 
 tinct property; but we refer it to its proper place. Who 
 will define attraction? 
 
 6. Ida. It is that quality in the particles of bodies which 
 makes them tend toward each other. 
 
 Mr. M. I would prefer the words atoms and masses to 
 particles^ as they will include all kinds of attraction, from 
 that called chemical to that called gravitation or weight. 
 Attraction has received different names from the different 
 circumstances under which it manifests^ itself. Attraction 
 between atoms is called chemical affinitii^ between m^olcr 
 cules^ it is termed cohesion^ and between masses, gramtor 
 tion. There is also a modification of attraction called ad- 
 hesion,^ and another known as capillarity.'^ Besides, there 
 is electrical attraction, which will be hereafter explained. 
 George, can you tell me why this pencil falls to the floor ? 
 
 7. George. The pencil is a mass and the floor is a mass ; 
 and the pencil must fall toward the greater mass by the 
 force of gravitation. 
 
 N 
 
290 willson's fo¥eth reader. Fast V. 
 
 Mr. M, Very well ; but you must remember that there are 
 two whys^ or two causes — a primary and a secondary, or an 
 intelligent and a physical cause. The secondary or physical 
 cause is gravitation, or a property to which we give this 
 name ; but the intelligent cause is nothing less than the " vo- 
 lition^ of Deity." Besides these there are specific properties 
 of matter, as I mentioned in our last conversation. Can any 
 one of you tell what they are ? 
 
 8. Ella. I have learned from the books in the library that 
 there are such properties as hardness, elasticity,® flexibility,^ 
 brittleness,^ malleability,^ ductility,!^ and tenacity -^^ but I do 
 not exactly understand why they are called specific properties. 
 
 9. Mr. M. If you will reflect a moment that specific means 
 that which distinguishes one kind from another, I think you 
 will perceive that the term is a very appropriate one; for 
 those properties which you mentioned do not belong in the 
 same degree to all kinds of matter. Inertia belongs as much 
 to one kind of matter as to another, and it is therefore a gen- 
 eral property of matter ; but does hardness belong, in the 
 same degree, to all kinds of matter ? 
 
 10. Ella. Oh no. I see the difference now. Some bodies 
 are much harder than others, and therefore hardness is a spe- 
 cific property of matter ; but inertia is a general property, be- 
 longing alike to all. 
 
 Mr. M. This illustrates the importance of understanding 
 the precise meaning of terms. Will some one tell me the 
 name of the hardest body known ? 
 
 Frank. The diamond. 
 
 Mr. M. What bodies are elastic? 
 
 Ella. India-rubber, and steel springs. 
 
 1 1 . Mr. M. And all other bodies to a certain extent, though, 
 some possess so little elasticity that they are called non-elas- 
 tic. Air is perhaps the most perfectly elastic substance ; but 
 we have been using a term before defining it. What do you 
 understand by elasticity ? 
 
 12. E2la. The property by which bodies, when their form 
 has been changed, endeavor to recover their original shape. 
 
 Mr.M. What is the difference hQiwQQu fisxibility and hrit- 
 tkness? 
 
1st DlV. OP NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 291 
 
 George. When a body readily yields or bends under a force 
 applied to it, it is said to be flexible; but if, instead of bend- 
 ing, it breaks, it is brittle. 
 
 13. John. I have seen knives and other tools very brittle 
 when new, but very flexible when they had been heated, and 
 have heard people say they had lost their temper. 
 
 Mr. M. Yes ; when a piece of steel is heated, and then slow- 
 ly cooled, it is flexible ; but if cooled suddenly, it is brittle. 
 You can try this experiment by heating and cooling a needle. 
 
 14. John. I recollect my father had a quantity of iron 
 wire which he could not use because it Avas so brittle, and 
 that he heated it red-hot, and cooled it slowly. I think he 
 called it annealing .^"^ 
 
 15. Mr. M. That is the name of the process. Glass can be 
 annealed ; and the value of glassware depends much on the 
 manner in which it is cooled. Malleability is the property 
 which allows bodies to be hammered or rolled into thin sheets. 
 Do you know what is the most malleable substance ? 
 
 16. George. Gold is considered the most malleable. 
 
 Mr. M. And what is most ductile, or can be drawn to the 
 finest wire ? 
 
 FranJc. Platinum^^ jj^s been drawn into finer wire than 
 any other substance I ever heard of. 
 
 11. Mr.M. What is tenacity ? 
 
 Franh. I believe the word is derived from the Latin word 
 teneo.^ I hold ; and if so, it must mean the property of hold- 
 ing together. 
 
 Johyi. I think I have heard that iron is the most tenacious 
 of the metals. 
 
 18. Mr. M. Yes ; iron wire is so tenacious that when only 
 the sixteenth of an inch in diameter it will support 540 
 pounds, while a similar wire of lead will only sustain 27 
 pounds. The tenacity of iron makes it valuable in the con- 
 struction of suspension bridges and other structures. 
 
 19. Here Mr. Maynard remarked that, although their hour 
 had not quite expired, he would close this conversation, as he 
 had promised to accompany a number of the younger pupils 
 in a long ramble immediately after dinner, for the purpose of 
 aiding them in making a map of the stream which flowed 
 
292 
 
 willson's foubth reader. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 through the valley. He informed the class that the subject 
 of their next conversation would be Motion" and its Laws. 
 
 20. The means which Mr. Maynard adopted for interesting 
 his pupils in a great variety of subjects of study were Avisely 
 contrived for combining amusement and instruction. With 
 a view to such results, the excursion referred to had been 
 planned for his younger pupils; and by such means they 
 were early grounded in the principles of geographical knowl- 
 edge, and interested in learning more of a subject whose very 
 rudiments had proved to them a delightful recreation. 
 
 21. Thus, before his youthful pupils were aware that they 
 were studying geography, they could tell the direction by 
 the compass, and the distance from the old mansion, of every 
 grove, fountain, and hillock for two miles around, the wind- 
 ings of the stream which flowed through the valley, the va- 
 rious ravines which entered the glen below, and could accu- 
 rately trace on a slate or paper a map of the whole, the 
 boundaries of the estate on which they resided, and a profile 
 outline of the hills which separated their little world of tran- 
 quil beauty from the great and noisy world around them. 
 
 22. But they had visited many of the neighboring villages 
 beyond the hills, and could locate^'*' them also ; and as they 
 inquired about distant cities and coimtries, and read, or heard 
 related, interesting accounts of them and their people, they 
 not only learned more of geography, but began the acquisi- 
 tion of historical knowledge. Thus, though secluded^^ for a 
 while from the noisy scenes of life, they were taught that, if 
 their lives should be spared, they were soon to mingle with 
 the moving throng, and that the duties of life required of 
 them a knowledge of that world on whose stage of action 
 they were soon to enter. 
 
 1 As-sCme', take the form of. 
 
 2 Man'-i-fests, shows ; exhibits. 
 
 3 Ad-he'-sion, the act or state of sticking. 
 
 * €ap-il-lar'-i-ty, the attraction of a fluid 
 up a small tube. 
 
 5 Vo-Li"-TiON, will. 
 
 6 E-LA8-Tio'-i-TY (860 dcf by Ella). 
 
 ' Flex-i-bil'-i-ty, the qualitj' of admitting 
 to be bent. 
 
 8 Reit'-tle-ness, aptness to bo broken. 
 
 9 MAL-i.E-A-Bn/-i-TY, that property of bod- 
 ies which renders them capable of being 
 extended by heating. 
 
 10 Du€-TiL'-i-Ty, that property of bodies 
 which renders them capable of being ex- 
 tended by draimmj without breaking. 
 
 11 Tk-nao'-i-tv, that property of bodies 
 which keeps them from being parted with- 
 out considerable force. 
 
 12 An-neat,'-ing, the process of applying 
 heat for removing brittlcness. 
 
 13 I*lat'-i-num, the heaviest of the metals. 
 1* Lo'-cate, determine the place of; ar- 
 range on a map. 
 
 '5 Sk-clO'-ded, shiit out; living in retire- 
 ment. 
 
1st Div. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 LESSOIsT V. 
 MOTION AND ITS LAWS. 
 
 1. Mr. M. When Plato, an ancient philosopher, was asked 
 for a definition of motion, he is said to have arisen, and to 
 have walked back and forth in the presence of his interro- 
 gators,^ as much as to say, "You see it, but I can not tell 
 you." Who of you will define motion 9 
 
 Ida. Motion is a continued change of place with regard to 
 a fixed point. 
 
 2. Mr. M. I would prefer to call motio7i simply t/ie act of 
 changitig place^ and consider it the condition of matter op- 
 posed to rest. It is enough for our purpose, however, that 
 we understand the usual meaning of the term. Can you de- 
 fine uniform motion f 
 
 John. When a body passes over equal spaces in equal 
 successive portions of time, its motion is called uniform. 
 
 3. Mr. M. Very well ; now tell me when it is accelerated,^ 
 and when retarded.^ 
 
 John. When the spaces passed over in equal times contin- 
 ually increase, the motion is called accelerated; and when 
 such spaces decrease, it is called retarded ; as a stone thrown 
 up in the air is retarded in ascending, and accelerated in de- 
 scending. 
 
 4. Mr. M. A good definition, and I think you understand 
 it. Can you define velocity f 
 
 George. It is the swiftness of the motion, and is measured 
 by the space passed over in a given time. 
 Mr. M. Now tell me what momentum'^ is. 
 
 5. George. Momentum is the quantity of motion, and is 
 the product^ of the quantity of matter by the velocity. 
 
 Mr. M. If that is so, a small body moving swiftly may 
 have as much momentum as a large one moving slowly. 
 
 George. Yes, sir. A 32-pound ball, moving 1000 feet in 
 a second, will have as much momentum as a battering-ram 
 weighing 2000 pounds, and moving 16 feet in a second. 
 
 6. Mr. M. I am pleased to see you so promptly make the 
 practical calculations illustrative of the principles of motion. 
 
294 WILLSON's fourth reader. Part v. 
 
 Suppose you were on the deck of a steam-boat going north 
 at the rate of ten miles an hour, and that, when you were in 
 the same straight line with two trees on shore, you were to 
 run toward the stern of the boat with a speed of ten miles an 
 hour, would you change position in respect to the trees ? 
 
 7. John. Certainly not ; for in the time occupied in run- 
 ning south, the boat would have advanced as far north as the 
 space I passed over, and I should have remained at the same 
 point in space. 
 
 Ella. Running ten miles an hour and standing still at the 
 same time is strange enough. How is it explained ? 
 
 8. Mr. M. The motion was absolute^ in regard to the hoat^ 
 but not in respect to the trees on the shore. If you had re- 
 mained at the same place on the boat, you would have been 
 in motion in relation to objects on shore ; and if you had 
 started from the stern of the boat and run in the direction 
 of the boat's motion with the velocity stated, you would 
 have been going twenty miles in respect to the trees, and ten 
 miles in respect to the boat. 
 
 9. George. This seeming paradox"^ of motion and rest^ or 
 rest and motion^ or motion twenty and te^i miles at the same 
 time, seems very plain to me when y, e use the terms relative- 
 ly, or in comparison with other bodies. 
 
 10. Mr. M. If now you all understand what is meant by 
 uniform^ accelerated^ retarded^ absolute^ and relative motion, 
 as I think you do, I will only add that we do not know of 
 any thing in a state of absolute rest. The earth on which 
 we live is in rapid motion around the sun, and the sun itself 
 is in motion around some central body, which, for aught we 
 know, is itself revolving around some remote centre. 
 
 There are three principles of motion, known as Newton's 
 Laws. Can you tell me the first ? 
 
 11. FranJc. "Every body continues in its state of rest, or 
 of uniform motion in a straight line, unless acted upon by 
 some external force." This, I suppose, means that a body at 
 rest can not put itself in motion, and that a body in motion 
 can not stop itself. 
 
 John. Then every thing at rest must always continue so 
 unless moved by some force; and every thing in motion 
 
1st DiV. OF NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 295 
 
 must always continue moving unless stopped by some resist- 
 ance. 
 
 12. Mr.M. You understand the exact meaning of the^rs^ 
 law ; now what forces tend to put bodies in motion, and what 
 to stop them ? 
 
 Joh7i. MiUs are put in motion by horse-power, water-power, 
 wind-power, and steam-power ; so I would call the n).omentum 
 of falling water, or of moving air, or the muscular power of 
 animals, or the expansive force of steam, moving powers, or 
 forces. Bodies in motion are stopped by the rubbing to- 
 gether of the surfaces in contact, and by the weight of the 
 parts that have to be lifted. 
 
 13. Mr. M. That is, they are stopped by friction^ and 
 gravity}^ George, can you give me the second law of mo- 
 tion? 
 
 George. " Change of motion is proportional to the force 
 impressed,^^ and is in the direction of the line in which that 
 force acts." When I load my gun with a charge adapted to 
 the distance I wish to shoot, and aim in the direction of the 
 object I wish to hit, I act upon the second law of motion^ 
 and did so before I ever heard of such a law. 
 
 14. 3Ir. M. I hope you would not insinuate that you are 
 no wiser for your pains in learning the law you have repeat- 
 ed so correctly. I am very glad the Laws of Newton, as they 
 are called, are self-evident to you, and I shall expect to hear 
 some very sensible replies from you to the questions I shall 
 have occasion to ask in the course of these lessons. There 
 is another law for Frank to state and illustrate. 
 
 15. Franh. "Action and reaction are equal, and in opposite 
 directions." If I understand what it means, it is that when 
 I pull the reins in riding, I push as much as I pidl. 
 
 George. If that is the case, how does he stop the horse ? 
 
 16. Franh. Allow me to suggest that the soft reins do not 
 hurt my hands as much as the same force, exerted by the 
 small and hard bit, hurts the horse's mouth ; so he concludes 
 to stop. 
 
 Mr. M. A very sage conclusion, truly ; but teU me, Frank, 
 if you were sitting in the stern of a boat, and pulling by a 
 rope attached to the bow, could you move the boat ? 
 
296 
 
 Paet V. 
 
 17. Frank, As the j!9i^s/im^ and ^?^m^ would be equal, no 
 motion would be produced. 
 
 Mr, M, K this string which I take from the table can sus- 
 tain just seventy-five pounds before parting, and Ida and 
 Ella can each pull seventy pounds, can they two break the 
 string while pulling in oj^posite directions ? 
 
 18. Ida. Yes, sir, we should break the string with our 
 united force of 140 pounds. 
 
 Ella, No, sir; the string will only be pulled with a force of 
 seventy pounds, just the same as if the other end were attach- 
 ed to a hook in the wall, instead of being held by Ida's hand. 
 
 19. Mr, M. Most certainly you could ?io^ break the string, 
 for the two forces act in opposite directions, and one may be 
 called action^ and the other reaction. When Ella pulls with 
 a force of seventy pounds, Ida merely sustains that force, the 
 same as though her end of the string were fastened to the 
 
 ^^— 1; wall. If I pull a string 
 
 ^^^- ^- The picture I now show 
 
 you will illustrate the principles of the three laws, and give 
 you some idea of momentum. 
 
 20. George, Will you have the kindness, Mr. Maynard, to 
 give us such familiar examples as occur to you to illustrate 
 the laws of motion ? 
 
 Mr, M. With the greatest pleasure. I will relate to you 
 some from Dr. Arnott's interesting book on Physics : 
 
 21. If a man in one boat pull at a rope attached to another, 
 the two boats will approach. If they be of equal size and 
 load, they will both move at the same rate, in whichever of 
 the boats the man may be ; and if there be a difference in the 
 sizes and resistances, there will be a corresponding difference 
 in the velocities, the smaller boat moving the faster. 
 
1st Div. OF NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 29*^ 
 
 22. A magnet and a piece of iron attract each other equal- 
 ly, whatever disproportion there may be between the masses. 
 K the two were hanging near each other as pendulums, they 
 would approach and meet ; but the little one would perform 
 more than half of the journey. 
 
 23. A man in a boat pulling a. rope attached to a large 
 ship seems only to move the boat ; but he really moves the 
 ship a little ; for, supposing the resistance of the ship to be 
 just a thousand times greater than that of the boat, a thou- 
 sand men in a thousand boats, pulling simultaneously^^ {^i the 
 same manner, would make the ship meet them half way. 
 
 24. A pound of lead and the earth attract each other with 
 equal force, but that force makes the lead approach sixteen 
 feet in a second toward the earth, while the contrary mo- 
 tion of the earth is, of course, as much less than this as 
 the earth is weightier than one pound, and is therefore un- 
 noticed. Speaking strictly, it is true that even a feather fall- 
 ing lifts the earth toward it, and that a man jumping kicks 
 the earth away. 
 
 25. He was a foolish man who thought he had found the 
 means of commanding always a fair wind for his pleasure- 
 boat by erecting an immense bellows in the stern. The bel- 
 lows and sails acted against each other, and there was no mO' 
 tion. Indeed, in a perfect calm, there would be a little back- 
 ward motion, because the sail would not catch all the wind 
 from the bellows. If he had turned the bellows around, and 
 blown astern,^^ he might have moved his boat a little. 
 
 26. A ship in chase, by firing her bow guns, retards her 
 motion ; by firing from her stern she quickens it. 
 
 A ship, firing a broadside, heels or inclines to the opposite 
 side. 
 
 A man pushing against the ground with a stick is pushed 
 up as much as he pushes down. 
 
 27. When a child cries, on knocking his head against a tar 
 ble or pane of glass, it is common to tell him, and it is true, 
 that he has given as hard a blow as he has received, although 
 his philosophy probably, looking chiefly to results, blames the 
 table for his head hurt, and his head for the glass broken. 
 
 28. "When one biUiard ball strikes directly another ball of 
 
 isr2 
 
298 WILLSON's FOUKTH EEADEE. Part V. 
 
 equal size, it stops, and the second ball proceeds with the 
 whole velocity which the first had, the action which imparts 
 the new motion being equal to the reaction which destroys 
 the old. 
 
 29. But these examples are quite sufficient for our pur- 
 pose. It only remains in this conversation to explain the 
 laws of reflected motion^ and what is called the composition 
 of forces^ or compound motion. 
 
 30. If a ball be dropped perpendicularly on a smooth pave- 
 ment, it will rebound to a certain point in the same straight 
 line in which it descended ; but if it be thrown in some other 
 direction against the pavement, it will not rise in a perpendic- 
 ular line, but in a line having the same degree of obHquity^* 
 as that in which it struck the pavement. 
 
 31. Thus, if the ball were dropped from a to the pavement 
 a, at J, its upward course would be in the same line, ha; 
 
 \ / but if it be thrown in the line c b, it will rebound in 
 
 \ / the line b d. In this case the angle formed by the 
 
 " B line c by with the line a b, is called the " angle of in- 
 
 Fig- 3. cidence," and that formed by the line d J, with the 
 
 line a 5, " the angle of reflection ;" and it is to be observed 
 
 that these angles will always be precisely equal. 
 
 32. There are many interesting things about the composi- 
 tion of forces, some of which may be illustrated by the two 
 
 diagrams which I show you. If two forces 
 
 « of equal intensity, but in opposite directions, 
 
 act upon a given point, that point will remain 
 
 motionless. But if the two forces act at a?^ 
 
 ^^s^^ angle to ea,ch other, a motion is produced that 
 
 is called the residtant of the two forces. Perhaps, JohnJ you 
 
 can explain the principle from these two diagrams. 
 
 33. John. I think I can. If I understand the composition 
 of forces, a ball at a acted on by forces moving in the direc- 
 tion of the arrows', w411 in each case be driven to d. In Fig. 4, 
 however, the forces are unequal in intensity,^^ one being rep- 
 ^^__»^j»^*;^^^^ resented by the line a c, and the- other by 
 
 "^ — .1.-^-^^^^^^** the line a b. But in Fig. 5 the forces ap- 
 Fig. 6. pear to be equal.* 
 
 • On the same principles wo can determine the common resultant of many forces act- 
 
IstDlV. OF NATURiLL PHILOSOPHY. 299 
 
 34. Mr. M. I believe you correctly understand the theory. 
 The operations of every-day life afford numerous examples of 
 the motion resulting from a composition of forces. If we at- 
 tempt to row a boat directly across a rapid river, the action 
 of the oars and the action of the current will result in a diag- 
 onal motion down the stream. In the science of projectiles, 
 or of gunnery, it is necessary to take into consideration not 
 only the force exerted by the powder, but of gravity, or the 
 earth's attraction, also ; for the cannon ball must take the di- 
 rection of what is called the resultant of these two forces. 
 This, however, brings us to the consideration of our next sub- 
 ject, which is Gravity and Falling Bodies ; and on that 
 you may prepare yourselves for our next conversation. 
 
 35. Here Master John remarked that Natural Philosophy 
 was a most delightful study, because it led the mind to think 
 about almost every thing. 
 
 " And to think with some satisfaction, too," said George, 
 " because it puts one in the way of learning real truths about 
 things ; and I think nothing is so satisfactory as truthP 
 
 " I would like," said Ella, " to learn the truth about every 
 thing in nature." 
 
 " That is a very large wish," said Frank, " for it seems to 
 me to be a wish to know every thing." 
 
 " And that," said John, " is what Deity alone can know." 
 
 36. This was leading to quite a long discussion upon the 
 nature of truth, when Mr. Maynard suggested that it might 
 be well to postpone^^ the consideration of that subject until 
 they came to the departments of Mental and Iforal Philoso- 
 phy, which they would find treated in their Sixth Reader. 
 The class then separated, and the several members proceed- 
 ed to make preparations for their afternoon's rambles, which 
 
 Ing on a point. Two of the forces are first taken, and 
 their resultant found. This resultant is combined 
 with the third force, and a second resultant found. 
 This again is combined with the fourth force, and so 
 on, until the forces are exhausted. The final resultant 
 represents the conjoint action of all. 
 
 Thus, let there be three forces applied to the point ff, 
 represented in intensity and direction by the lines a &, 
 a c^ ad, respectively. If a 6 and a c be combined, they 
 give as their resultant a e ; and if this resultant, a c, be 
 combined with the third force, a d, the resultant will be 
 n /, which, therefore, represents the common action of 
 all three forces. 
 
 !^J 
 
300 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 were so planned by their teacher as to have in view the ac- 
 quisition of new truths in some of the departments of Natu- 
 ral History. 
 
 1 In-teb'-eo-ga-toe8, those who ask ques- 
 tions. 
 
 2 A€-cel'-eb-a-tei>, quickened in motion, 
 
 3 Re-tabd'-bd, hindered; delayed in mo- 
 tion. 
 
 * Mo-ment'-ttm, the quantity of motion in a 
 moving body. 
 
 5 Peod'-uct, here means the result obtain- 
 ed by multiplying the quantity of matter 
 by the velocity. 
 
 « Ab'-80-ltjte, positive ; real ; not relative^ 
 
 ' Pae'-a-dox, something seemingly absurd 
 but true in fact. 
 
 8 Ex-teen'-al, outward ; exterior. 
 
 9 Fei€'-tion, the act of rubbing the surface 
 of one body against that of another. 
 
 10 Gbav'^^-ty, weight; the tendency of a 
 body toward the centre of the earth. 
 
 11 iM-PEESs'jED, exerted ; made to act, 
 
 12 Si-mul-ta'-ne-ou8-ly, at the same time. 
 
 13 A-stebn', from the stern or hinder part ; 
 backward, 
 
 1* Ob-liq'-tji-ty, deviation from a perpen- 
 dicular line, 
 
 15 In-tens'-i-ty, degi'ee of violence, energy, 
 or power. 
 
 16 Post-pone', put off; defer. 
 
 LESSON VI. 
 GRAVITY AND FALLING BODIES. 
 
 1. While the class were on their way to the library, Miss 
 Ida remarked that it was so pleasant out of doors that morn- 
 ing she wished Mr. Maynard would give them their lesson 
 under the old oak-tree on the lawn. This suggestion was 
 very favorably received by the class, and on arriving at the 
 library, and making known their wishes to Mr. Maynard that 
 he would give them an out-door lesson, he very cheerfully 
 complied with their request. So they all proceeded to the 
 oak-tree, where Mr. Maynard took his seat in a chair Avhich 
 Frank had brought for him, and the others on the rustic 
 benches which were placed there. 
 
 2. Mr. M. On the ground you observe acorns which have 
 fallen from the tree above us. Will you tell me why they 
 very appropriately suggest the consideration of the subject 
 of gravity ? 
 
 Ella. Because in falling from the tree to the earth they 
 have illustrated the great law of falling bodies ; and if there 
 had been no such law as gravity, they would have been just 
 as likely to go upward as downward. 
 
 3. Frank. I have another reason to give. I have seen it 
 stated that while Newton was sitting alone in his garden, the 
 falling of an apple from a tree suggested the inquiry, " Why 
 did the ajpple fall .^'* and that this trifling circumstance led 
 
1st Div. OP NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 301 
 
 to his great discovery of the laws of gravity, and of their ap- 
 plication to the motions of the heavenly bodies. I think 
 these acorns very naturally suggest a similar inquiry. 
 
 Mr. M, Reminded, by these evidences around us, of the 
 constant operation of the laws of gravity, we will begin our 
 lesson. In our last conversation John gave the example of a 
 stone thrown upward as an illustration of retarded and accel- 
 erated motion. Can he now explain the cause of the increase 
 of velocity in descending ? 
 
 4. John. I have read that every body or mass of matter in 
 the universe attracts every other mass, and that as the bod- 
 ies approach each other the attraction is increased. I think 
 this increase of attraction between the stone and earth, as 
 they come nearer each other, is the cause of the accelerated 
 motion of the stone in falling. 
 
 5. Mr. M. You have mistaken the cause of its accelerated 
 motion ; for, though it is true that the force of gravity in- 
 creases as a body approaches the earth, the difference is so 
 trifling at small distances from the surface as not to be per- 
 ceptible. When a stone falls from a height, the impulse^ 
 which it receives from gravitation in the first instant of its 
 fall would be sufficient to bring it to the ground with a uni- 
 form velocity, even if the force of gravity were then taken 
 away ; but as the iovde of gravity is exerted during the next 
 instant also, the stone then receives an additional impulse 
 downward, and so during each succeeding instant, and thus 
 the motion is uniformly accelerated., 
 
 6. John. It is perfectly plain that, while the first impulse 
 continues, gravity is constantly acting, and thus the velocity 
 of a falling body is increased. I would like to ask if a stone 
 occupies the same time in going up as in coming down. 
 
 7. Mr. M. It does ; for in going up its force is constantly 
 diminished by gravity. Can you tell me how many feet a 
 body will fall in one second of time ? 
 
 Ida. It is found by experiment that a body falls sixteen 
 feet during the first second. 
 
 Mr. M. How far the next second ? 
 
 8. Ida. Forty-eight feet, making sixty-four feet in the two 
 seconds. * 
 
302 Willson's fourth reader. Part V. 
 
 Ella. It appears to me, then, by the principles just stated, 
 that out of the forty-eight feet which the body falls during 
 the second second, sixteen must be owing to gravity, the 
 same as in the first second, and the remaining thirty-two feet 
 to the velocity which the body had acquired in falling the 
 first sixteen feet. Is not that so ? 
 
 9. Mr. M. That is the correct explanation. The laws of 
 falling bodies may be shown by triangles, as in this diagram,^ 
 Figure 6. The acceleration of a falling mass 
 may be represented by the divergence^ of the 
 two sides, a, J, and a, c. If we divide the large 
 triangle into smaller ones by the lines 1, 1, 2, 2, 
 etc., which may represent seconds, the bases of 
 the triangles which we thus make will show 
 the acceleration at any required time, and the 
 areas'^ of the several smaller triangles will rep- 
 resent the space fallen through. 
 
 10. In such case the area of each smaller tri- 
 angle must be considered 16, the number of 
 feet which the body falls by the force of grav- 
 ^^" ' ity alone; and the base must be called 32, the 
 velocity which a body attains in falling 16 feet by the force 
 of gravity alone. You see, by the figure, that in the first sec- 
 ond there is one triangle, or the body "falls 16 feet, and has a 
 velocity at the end of the time of 32 feet. In the next sec- 
 ond it passes over the space of three triangles, or 48 feet, and 
 has a velocity of 64 feet. In the third second we h^YeJive 
 triangles, or 80 feet, and a velocity of 96 feet. 
 
 In the same manner the velocity and spaces for any subse- 
 quent second in the fall of the body may be shown. 
 
 11. Frank. I thought the number of feet described^ dur- 
 ing any portion of time was the product of the square^ of 
 the time in seconds multiplied by 16, but I do not see how 
 that follows from the figure. 
 
 12. George. I think I understand it. You have only to 
 count the number of triangles above any Hue, and you will 
 have the square of the time represented by that line. Thus, 
 above the line 3 there are 9 triangles, and as each one is 16, 
 the space abote the Ime 3 is 9 times 16, or 144, which is the 
 
1st DiV. OP ..... . NATURAL JfHILOSOPHY. 303 
 
 space a body falls in three seconds, though it only falls 80 
 feet in the third second. Do you not see 5 triangles between 
 lines 3 and 2 ? 
 
 13. Frank. Is it possible that we can extend that figure 
 as far as we please, and work any problems'^ of falling bodies 
 by it? 
 
 Mr. M. Let us try a problem. How high is a flag-staff, if 
 an arrow, thrown as high as its top, is six seconds in the air ? 
 
 14. George. It will be as long in going up as in coming 
 down ; hence it will be falling three seconds. Three squared 
 is nine, and nine times sixteen are one hundred and forty- 
 four, the height of the staff. 
 
 Mr. 31. Correctly solved ; but with what velocity was the 
 arrow shot upward ? 
 
 15. George. I see in the figure three bases of the small 
 triangles, and as each one represents 32 feet, the three will 
 be 96 feet, which the arrow acquired in falling; that must 
 equal the velocity which was destroyed by gravity in its 
 ascent. 
 
 16. Mr. M. Do you observe from the figure that when the 
 bases are doubled, the whole number of triangles above such 
 bases is quadrupled?^ Thus, above the line 3 there are 9 
 triangles, and above the line 6 there are 4 times 9, or 36. 
 
 George. Can we not prove from that, that if a person 
 doubles his charge of powder he can shoot four times as far 
 upward ? 
 
 17. John. Yes; and if I start to run up stairs with double 
 the velocity of another boy, I can go up with one half the 
 muscular exertion. 
 
 Franlc. How can that be ? 
 
 John. Do you not see that I can go four times as far by 
 doubling the velocity, but to double the speed I must use 
 twice as much force ? 
 
 18. Mr. M. I have listened with interest to your discus- 
 sion, and am pleased to see you so readily apprehend the doc- 
 trine oi falling bodies ; and I recommend you to construct 
 and study such figures as the dhe I have described to you. 
 
 Ella. Do not heavy bodies fall swifter than light ones ? 
 
 19. Mr. M. Practically they do ; but if it were not for the 
 
304 
 
 WILLSON'S POTTETH READER. 
 
 Paet V. 
 
 i'iK. T. 
 
 resistance of the air, all bodies would fall in the same times 
 from the same height. I will show you the " guine§, and 
 feather" experiment. You observe that in this tall glass re- 
 ceiver, when it is full of air, the coin 
 falls much more rapidly than the feath- 
 er. I will now replace them, and ex- 
 haust® the air from the receiver, and 
 what do you observe as I detach^^ them 
 at the same time ? 
 
 20. Ella, The feather seems as heavy 
 as the coin, for they fell together. 
 
 Mr. M. So great is the resistance of 
 the air when great surface is exposed 
 to it, that people have descended from 
 the height of two miles, by the aid of a 
 kind of stout umbrella, called 2^ parachute^'^ and gently touch- 
 ed the ground. 
 
 21. FratiJc. I have just read of a balloon which burst at a 
 great elevation, and the aeronaut' ^ came down in safety, as 
 the balloon was held within the net-work in the form of a 
 parachute. 
 
 22. Mr, M, An ancient poet, Lucretius, knew the resist- 
 ance of air when he wrote, 
 
 "In water or in air, when weights descend, 
 The heavier weights more swiftly downward tend ; 
 The limpid waves, the gales that gently play, 
 Yield to the weightier mass a readier way ; 
 But if the weights in empty space should fall. 
 One common swiftness we should find in all." 
 
 23. You have perhaps heard the old proverb that " a child 
 can throw a feather as far as Hercules," and you can doubt- 
 less see the reason in the resistance of the air. 
 
 There is another matter for explanation 
 in this lesson, concerning what is called the 
 centre oi gravity. 
 
 Frank, As gravity is weight, the centre 
 of gravity must be the same as the centre 
 of weight, or the point where a body will 
 ^'^-^- balance. 
 
1st Div. OF NATUBAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 305 
 
 iig. y. 
 
 24. Mr. M. It is the point about which all the parts "bal- 
 ance each other ; and if this point be 
 supported, the whole body will be 
 supported ; otherwise the body will 
 fall. 
 
 £Jlla. That must be the reason why 
 the stage was upset the other day. 
 Mr. Jones said it was dangerous to 
 pile so many trunks on the top. 
 
 25. Mr. M. If you imagine a line 
 drawn from the centre of gravity of 
 a body, toward the centre of the earth, that line is called the 
 line of direction. If that line fall within the base or support 
 "of a body, the body will stand ; but if it does not come with- 
 5 c d in the base, the body will fall. 
 
 The centres of gravity in the 
 figures shown in this cut are 
 Fig. 10. where the lines cross each other. 
 
 26. John. The figure b has the same base as a, but it can 
 be more easily overturned. If it were about four times its 
 present height, I do not think it could stand at all. 
 
 Ida. I have read of a /eaw- 
 ing tower at Pisa, in Italy, 
 which appears as if it were 
 just ready to fall, and yet it 
 has stood several hundred 
 years. 
 
 27. Mr. M. This wonder- 
 ful tower is one hundred and 
 ninety feet high, and leans 
 twelve feet; but this is less 
 than half of its diameter; 
 hence the line of direction 
 falls within the base, as you 
 see in the drawing which I 
 show you (Fig. 11). 
 John. My father has often told me never to stand up in a 
 small boat when the waves cause it to rock violently, as it 
 would increase the danger of upsetting. I can now see that 
 
 Fig. 11. — Leaning Tower of Pisa. 
 
306 willson's fourth reader. Paet v. 
 
 standing up would elevate the centre of gravity, and that it 
 would be much safer for all persons in the boat to keep as 
 near the bottom of the boat as possible. 
 
 ■ 28. Mr. M. The principle that you would adopt to secure 
 your own safety in a small boat is the same that is followed 
 in the arrangement of the ballast and cargo of a ship. Bal- 
 last is some heavy material placed low down in the hold^^ Qf 
 a vessel to give it steadiness in the water. 
 
 29. George. Boys who walk on stilts, or attempt to stand 
 on skates, can understand the importance of keeping the line 
 of direction within the base ; but I can not understand why 
 it is so much easier to keep one's balance when moving swift- 
 ly, than when standing still. 
 
 30. Frank. I have noticed Mr. D. walks much faster after 
 he has visited two or three grog-shops, than at other times ; 
 and I heard a person say that probably he could walk straight- 
 er by walking faster. . 
 
 Ida. I know that a hoojD will roll for a long time leaning much 
 to one side, while it would fall at once if it were not in motion. 
 ^1^ 31. Ella. I think my father's gyroscope^^ 
 
 g E fe^ is the most wonderful instance of a moving 
 
 ^^gr^ body supporting itself against gravity. Here 
 
 it is, now. See me spin the heavy wheel rap- 
 idly around inside of the ring. The ring, 
 wheel, and axle remain in a horizontal posi- 
 tion ; and not only that, but they revolve 
 Fig. '12'" around the stem on which they rest. I would 
 The Gyroscope, like to understand that. 
 
 32. John. Motion seems to play strange pranks with the 
 centre of gravity. I know that by giving a quoit a whirling 
 motion, I can make it strike much truer. I recollect reading 
 of a crooked stick, called a hoimnerang^ which the natives of 
 Australia throw in a curved path, and even make it come 
 around to them again. 
 
 33. Mr. M. Although you are wandering somewhat from 
 the topic for to-day, I have listened with pleasure to the in- 
 stances you have given of the curiosities of motion, and I 
 shall not have a better opportunity than this to explain the 
 mysteries of momentum, and show how 
 
IstDlV. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 307 
 
 "The skater, motion-poised, may proudly swim 
 In air-borne circles o'er the glassy plain." 
 
 You have seen that when two forces act on a body at the 
 same time, their united effect is represented by a single force 
 called a resultant.^^ 
 
 34. John. Yes, sir, we understood that, as it was explain- 
 ed under the head of composition of forces. 
 
 Mr. M. Are you aware that whenever the particles of a 
 body are moving in any direction, it requires force to change 
 the direction of the motion ? 
 
 35. Jolm. I think this is the reason why a quoit can be 
 thrown more accurately when it has a whirling motion. 
 When the slaters were repairing our roof, I noticed that when 
 they threw any of the slates to the ground, they gave them a 
 whirling motion, and that they^would strike on the edge with- 
 out being broken. 
 
 36. Mr. M. The rolling of the inclined hoop illustrates my 
 point. Gravity can not overcome the tendency of the par- 
 ticles to continue on in the direction which has been given to 
 them. There is a composition of motions as well as of 
 forces / and do you not see that the particles in the wheel 
 of the gyroscope are revolving in a vertical plane', or direc- 
 tion', by the impulse given in spinning the wheel', while at 
 the same instant the weight of the wheel tends to make it 
 fall'? 
 
 37. As, when two forces act on a body, it will not move in 
 the direction of either, but in a diagonal between them, so 
 when a body in motion is under the influence of two forces, 
 one to retain it in the direction of its motion, and the other 
 to change that direction, it will obey neither, but go between 
 them, and nearer one than the other, in proportion as one 
 force is greater than the other. As one end of the axis^^ of 
 the wheel is supported, while the other tends to fall, the force 
 of gravity is expended in giving to the instrument itself a ro- 
 tary motion in a iiirection opposite that of the rim of the 
 wheel. 
 
 38. I am aware that the explanation I have attempted re- 
 quires more knowledge of philosophy than I could expect 
 from you now, and I do not suppose you to understand so 
 
308 
 
 willson's foitrth keadee. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 difficult a matter clearly at present, but have thought best to 
 point out the way that will lead you to an understanding of 
 it in future. 
 
 39. John. I think the spinning of a top in a leaning posi- 
 tion so long a time is explained on the same principle. 
 
 Mr. M. Yes ; and not only the spinning of a top, but a 
 grand astronomical motion, which requires about 25,000 years 
 to accomplish one revolution. Do not forget this lesson when 
 we come to the Precession of the Equinoxes^ in Astronomy. 
 
 40. But, George, when you introduced the stilts and skates 
 into this conversation, we all walked off from the immediate 
 subject, to which it is time to return. We were speaking of 
 the support of the centre of gravity. Can you give any in- 
 stances of stabilityi"^ when the line of direction seems to fall 
 without the base ? 
 
 41. Ella. Those toys made of pith, and fashioned in the 
 shape of soldiers, which rise up as often as we knock them 
 down, have the centre of gravity very low down. I once 
 had the curiosity to pick one to pieces, and found it well bal- 
 lasted^^ with lead. 
 
 John. Just so the " old ship righted" when the wind had 
 blown her on her " beam ends." 
 
 Mr. M. So, you see, there is philosophy every where. 
 
 42. Ida. I always like to see the graceful motions of those 
 prancing toy horses, which are kept from falling by a w^eight 
 attached to a stiff wire, and so placed as to fall nearly under 
 the hind feet. 
 
 Mr. M. Li this case, does the horse 
 support the weight, or the weight sup- 
 port the horse ? 
 
 43. Frank. I think the horse sup- 
 ports the weight, and the centre of 
 gravity of the whole compound figure is with- 
 in the leaden ball. (Fig. 13.) 
 
 John. Then the centre of gravity is not 
 over the base. 
 
 Frank. It is under it, and the line of direc- 
 tion comes in the right place. In this case ^'^* ^^* 
 the motion is a swinging one, like a clock pendulum. 
 
J St Div. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 309 
 
 44. Mr, M. The reference to the clock pendulum reminds 
 me that our hour has elapsed, and I shall expect you to come 
 next week with what you can prepare on the subject of Me- 
 chanical Powers. 
 
 1 Im'-pulse, force commimicated, 
 
 2 Di'-A-GEAM, a figure drawn for the pur- 
 pose of explaining some principle. 
 
 3 Di-VEE(i'-ENCE, a receding or separating 
 from each other. 
 
 4 a'-ke-a, extent of surface. 
 * De-sceTb'ed, passed over. 
 
 6 "The square" of a number means the 
 product of that number by itself. 
 
 ' 1*kob'-lem, some question in mathematics 
 requiring a solution. 
 
 8 Quad'-ku-ple, increased four fold. 
 
 9 Ex-h.vust', draw out ; remove. 
 
 10 DE-TAcn', let loose ; set free. 
 
 11 Par'-a-cuute (jmr'-a-shute). 
 
 12 a'-ek-o-naut, one who sails or floats in 
 the air ; a balloonist. 
 
 13 H01.D, the whole interior cavity of a ship 
 below the lower deck. 
 
 1* 6y''-ro-S€Ope, an instrument for illus- 
 trating the phenomena of rotation and 
 the composition of rotations. 
 
 15 Ee-s-xtlt'-ant, that which results from the 
 combination of two or more. 
 
 16 Ax'-is, that which passes through the 
 centre of the wheel, and on which it re- 
 volves. 
 
 1'' Sta-bil'-i-ty, strength to stand without 
 
 being overthrown. 
 18 Bal'-last-ed, kept steady by ballast. 
 
 LESSON VII. 
 
 MECHANICAL POWERS.* 
 
 1. Mr. M. The topic for this lesson will certainly be an 
 interesting one to the young ladies who wish to know about 
 scissors and sewing machines, as well as to the lad who knows 
 all about mills, and the one who understands the mechanical^ 
 arrangements used in farm work ;..,but as for Frank, who has 
 spent his life thus far in his father's office and the Latin 
 school, I can hardly expect that our mfl^inical lesson will 
 be so pleasing to him. 
 
 2. Frank. But, Mr. Maynard, while I was reading Caesar 
 and Virgil, I found it necessary to know something about the 
 mechanical powers, in order to understand the machines 
 which the Romans used to batter down walls, and to dis- 
 charge arrows, darts, and stones. I have constructed a model 
 of Caesar's bridge,^ from his description of it ; and also mod- 
 els of the catapulta, ballista, and scorpio f and I think no one 
 can feel more desirous to understand the mechanical powers 
 than I do. 
 
 3. Mr. M. Very well ; I am glad to see that you appreci- 
 ate* the importance of such knowledge to a correct under- 
 
 * The Mechanical Powers are certain instruments or simple machines employed to fa- 
 cilitate the moving of weights, or the overcoming of resistance. 
 
310 willson's fourth reader. Paet v. 
 
 standing of what you read. What is a simple machine, 
 Frank? 
 
 Frank. An instrument by which weights can be raised, 
 resistance of heavy bodies overcome, and motion communi- 
 cated to masses of matter. 
 
 4. Mr, M. A very good definition. How many primary 
 mechcmical powers are there? 
 
 John. Three ; the lever ^ pulley^ and inclined plane. 
 
 Mr. M. That is the division I prefer, as the wheel and axle^ 
 the wedge^ and screw, are modifications^ of the first three. 
 What is a lever ? 
 
 George. A lever is an inflexible^ bar, supported on a point 
 called ^fidcrum,'' about which it moves freely. 
 
 5. Mr. M. I like to have you give the definitions so clear- 
 ly. In the cut which I here show you, you see a man trying 
 
 to move a heavy stone. Here 
 L is the lever, F the fulcrum, 
 W the weight. By pressing 
 down at the end L, the other 
 end of the lever raises W, the 
 weight. The centre of motion 
 ^'^' .^^ is at F, the fulcrum. In other 
 
 words, the power or force resting on the prop or fulcrum 
 overcomes the \|M||ht or resistance. Thus, if the lever be 
 under the centre^r gravity of the weight, and the length of 
 the lever from the fulcrum be twice as long as the other part, 
 a man can raise the weight one inch for every two inches he 
 presses down the end of the lever. 
 
 6. I wish you to notice that there are four things to be 
 considered, viz., the power applied, and its distance from the 
 fulcrum ; also the weight or resistance, and its distance from 
 the fulcrum. Now if the stone weighs 500 pounds, and is 
 two feet from the fulcrum, how much power must the man 
 apply, at a distance of five feet from the fulcrum, in order to 
 move the stone? 
 
 Y. John. I have learned that in all such cases the product 
 of the weight by its distance is equal to the product of the 
 power by its distance ; therefore I find the required power to 
 be 200 pounds. 
 
1st DiV. OF NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 311 
 
 Ella. Please explain your work for our benefit, and not 
 come to the conclusion so suddenly. 
 
 8. John. The weight 500, multiplied by its distance 2, is 
 1000. The product of the power by its distance must be 
 equal to 1000. But the distance of the power is 5, hence the 
 other factor, or the power, will be found by dividing 1000 by 
 5, which will give 200. 
 
 Ella. Are the calculations for aU kinds of levers made so 
 easily ? 
 
 9. Mr. M. I am most happy to assure you that not ©nly 
 are all calculations pertaining to the lever thus simple, but 
 also all calculations of the other simple mechanical powers. 
 Do you uaderstand this expression, PxPc?=Wx WcZ?* 
 
 10. George. I think it must mean that the product oi pow- 
 er by power'' s distance from the fulcrum is equal to the prod- 
 uct of the weight by the weigMs distance from the fulcrum. 
 
 11. Mr. 31. That is the law for equilibrium; but to pro- 
 duce motion the power must exceed that necessary for equi- 
 librium or balancing. Universally, the product of the power 
 by the distance it moves is always equal to the product of the 
 weight by the distance it moves in a vertical direction. When- 
 ever you have any difficulty in solving questions in mechan- 
 ical powers, think of this principle. 
 
 12. Joh7i. Does not the weight of the long end of the lever 
 interfere with this rule ? I saw some engineers once weigh- 
 ing the lever of a safety-valve, and heard them say the rule 
 for calculating levers would not do for them. 
 
 Mr. M. Very true ; the weight of the lever is a part of the 
 power, and should be so calculated. In the formula^ I have 
 given you the lever is considered as without weight. 
 
 13. John. As all levers do really have weighty will you 
 please show us how to estimate that weight in practice ? 
 
 Mr. M. Have you not been able to find the information 
 you seek in any school-books or mechanics' manuals ?® 
 
 John. ISTo, sir. I have searched diligently even in college 
 text-books in your library. 
 
 14. 3fr. M. I really can not point you to the book where 
 
 This should be read, " P mxcltiplied by Td equals W multiplied by W(Z.' 
 
312 willson's fourth eeader. Part V. 
 
 you will find what you wish, and what is so important, but I 
 think it can be made very plain. We will use this diagram 
 for our illustration. 
 
 15. Suppose the lever to be a bar of iron sixteen inches 
 long, every inch of which weighs one pound, and that the 
 fulcrum, F, is six inches from the weight, W. The centre of 
 gravity of the short arm will be three inches from the ful- 
 crum, where the weight will be six pounds. Th^^entre of 
 the long arm will be five inches from the fulcrum, where its 
 weight will be ten pounds. Now we have only to calculate 
 the short end as an additional weight of six pounds three 
 inches from the fulcrum, and the weight of the long arm as a 
 power of ten pounds five inches distant, and combine these 
 with the theoreticapo calculation. 
 
 16. John. I think I can now accomplish what I have heard 
 many mechanics wish themselves able to do. The problem 
 does not seem to be a very difiicult one. 
 
 Mr. M. Will you tell me, then, with such a lever, what 
 power at P will balance 100 pounds at W? 
 
 IV. Joh7i. If we multiply 100 by 6 (six inches), we have 
 600. Then 6 pounds, the weight of the short arm of the le- 
 ver, multiplied by 3 (three inches), will give 18, which, add- 
 ed to 600, will make 618, for the products of the weights by 
 their distances. Then, for the long arm of the lever, we mul- 
 tiply the weight 10 by its distance 5, and take the product, 
 50, from 618, and this will leave 568 pounds to be balanced 
 by a weight at P ; but, as P is ten inches from the fulcrum, we 
 divide 568 by 10, and this gives us 56 pounds and eight 
 tenths of a pound. 
 
 18. Mr.M. You are correct in your answer. Fifty-six 
 pounds and eight tenths of a pound at P will balance one 
 hundred pounds at W. Can you tell me what would have 
 been the theoretical answer ? 
 
 Ida. I have already made the calculation, and I find, if we 
 
1st DiT. OF NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 313 
 
 suppose the bar or lever not to have any weighty 60 pounds 
 at P will balance 100 at W. 
 
 19. Mr. M. Thus, you see, there is^ a -difference of^ver 
 three pounds. If the lever is not a straight and uniform bar, 
 the distance of the centres of gravity of its arms must be cal- 
 culated by means we can not introduce here. 
 
 Ida. I used to learn about three kinds of levers. Can the 
 power of all of them be calculated in the same way ? 
 
 20. Mr. M. Yes. Their parts are essentially the same ; 
 viz., the power and its distance^ and the weight and its dis- 
 tance from the centre of motion ; and the formula I gave will 
 solve them all. Can you tell me what constitutes a lever of 
 the second kind ? 
 
 21. George. The second hind of lever is that in which the 
 weight and the power are on the same side of the fulcrum, 
 and the power is furthest from the fulcrum. 
 
 Thus, if a mason desires to move forward a 
 large piece of stone, instead of bearing down 
 upon the lever to raise it up a little, he sticks 
 his crowbar into the ground, and pushing up- 
 ward, moves the stone little by little onward, ^ i,ig. lu 
 the ground being the fulcrum. 
 
 22. John. Is not a common wheelbarrow a kind of lever 
 of this kind ? 
 
 Mr. M. It is a lever on a rolling fulcrum. So, also, is the 
 oar of a boat, the water being the fulcrum; the person who 
 rows the power, and the boat itself the resistance. 
 
 23. Frank. It seems to me that the masts of a ship are 
 levers. 
 
 Mr. M. So they are ; and also the rudders by which ships 
 are steered. Can the young ladies give me some examples 
 of levers either of the first or second kind ? 
 
 Ida. Nut-crackers and lemon-squeezers are levers of the 
 second kind. 
 
 Ulla. Scissors, forceps, and snuffers are double levers of 
 the first kind. 
 
 24. Mr. M. Well said ; for when you readily state the kind 
 of levers, I think you understand what is the fulcrum, power, 
 and weight. The scale-heavn used in weighing is a simple 
 
 O 
 
314 
 
 WILLSON's rOIIRTH EEADER. 
 
 Past V. 
 
 Fig. IT. 
 
 Fig. 18. 
 
 lever. The arms, a a, on each side, are 
 made of equal length, and suspended 
 pver the centre of gravity. The axis^^ 
 or pivot, ^, which is the point of sus- 
 pension, is sharpened to a very thin 
 edge, that the beam may easily turn 
 with as little friction as possible when 
 weights are applied in the scales. Can 
 you give me a description of the third kind of lever ? 
 
 25. Frank. The third kind of lever is that 
 in which the fulcrum is at one end, the weight 
 at the other, and the power placed between 
 them. A man raising a ladder which rests on 
 one end is an example ; so, also, arejire-tongs. 
 I have read that at one time this was called 
 the losing lever^ because the power had to be 
 greater than the weight ; but the advantages 
 of it are that a small joower causes the extreme point of a 
 long arm to move over a great space. 
 
 26. Mr. M. Yes; and it is one of those wonderful adapta- 
 tions of the Divine Being in the construction of the limbs of 
 animals. This arrangement is seen in all its beauty in the 
 wings of birds, whose muscles are sometimes very powerful, 
 sustaining the weight of their bodies while they travel ur.- 
 rested for days amid the tempests of the heavens. 
 
 27. Ella. We .have had examples of this kind of lever in 
 our reading-lessons in Ornithology, in the instances of the long- 
 sustained flights of the stormy petrel and the albatross, and 
 of the wild or passenger pigeon ; and I see now that a knowl- 
 edge of the lever makes those cases all the more interesting. 
 
 Mr. M. And perhaps some one of you can find an example 
 of the same kind of lever in your reading-lessons on Human 
 Physiology. 
 
 28. Ida. Oh yes, here it is, on the twenty-second 
 page of our Fourth Reader. I see in the example of 
 the bones and muscles of the arm that the elbo\v 
 is the fulcrum, the muscles the 
 moving power, and the weight 
 raised the resistance. 
 
1st Div. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 315 
 
 Mr. M. You are right ; and from the principles ah-eady 
 learned you will perceive that if the weight in the hand be 
 fifty pounds, and be raised twenty inches while the muscles 
 springing from the shoulder contract one inch, the force ex- 
 erted by the muscles must be equal to one thousand pounds. 
 
 John. I believe a horse draws a cart on the principle of 
 the lever. 
 
 Mr. M. Yes; the weight of the horse is the power, especial- 
 ly in drawing up hill, and his hind feet constitute the fulcrum. 
 
 29. George. I understand now why, when one of our horses 
 could not draw a cart up a short steep hill, the driver got on 
 the forward part of the cart, and the horse drew up the man 
 and cart, when he could not draw the cart alone. The weight 
 of the man bearing on the back of the horse added to the 
 power. 
 
 30. Mr. M. Is it not delightful to trace the causes of 
 things ? Gates, doors, and chests furnish us 
 
 Jjj^ illustrations of the princi- 
 ^^1 pies we have been consid- 
 /^^y~ ering. You will find that 
 n^v- " a thousand comn;on things 
 Fig. 20. are accomplished on the ^ ^' 
 
 principle of the lever. But we must proceed to the pidley ; 
 so what can you say of this power ? 
 
 31. Frank. It is a small grooved wheel, with a 
 cord passing over it. 
 
 Mr. M. What is gained by such a pulley ? 
 Frank. Nothing but change of direction. A 
 man, by pulling down.^ can raise a 
 weight \ip. 
 
 John. Yes, and several men can 
 join their strength at the same time to raise a 
 very large weight. 
 
 32. George. By putting another pulley near 
 the ground, horses and oxen can walk off hori- 
 zontally and raise weights vertically. When I 
 went to Washington last summer, I saw horses 
 raising large blocks of marble, and iron pillars, to a great 
 height on the Capitol. 
 
 Fig. "iH. 
 
316 
 
 willson's fourth eeadee. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 iig. 24. 
 
 33. Mr. M. Perhaps the pulley is of more advantage to 
 the sailor than to man in any other occupation. Have you 
 ever heard of a contrivance called a fire escape^ by which a 
 man could let himself down in safety from the lofty window 
 of a burning house ? 
 
 John. I never heard of one, but I can at once see how it 
 could be done. 
 
 34'. Frank. I have often seen workmen making 
 some slight repairs to the walls of houses, with one 
 end of a rope fastened around their bodies, and pass- 
 ing over a pulley, as you see in this figure. 
 
 Flla. I can see how he can balance himself, but I 
 can not understand how he can draw himself up. 
 
 35. Mr. M. By a little exertion, he can throw more 
 than half his weight on one side of the pulley, which 
 makes that end of the rope descend, while the other 
 rises; and, as the nursery rhyme says, "so he goes 
 up, up, up," or " down, down, down," as he chooses. 
 
 George. I recollect a man went down into our deep well 
 in that way. 
 
 36. Mr. if. That was by means of a fixed 
 pulley ; but the mechanical power is a movable 
 pulley, like the one I have here represented. 
 The power, you will at once see, being held by 
 a single roj^e, passes over twice the space of the 
 weight, which is held by a double rope. 
 
 John. Then, by the way we cal- 
 culate the powers of levers, the weight 
 is double the power in this case. 
 
 Fig. 25. 3Y jyr^ j^f I gl^j^ii j^a^g ^Q jj^jjjg 
 
 you John Archimedes,^^ for I verily believe he 
 would have reasoned in the same way. Do you 
 not see that one pulley moves up just as the weight 
 does, and that it doubles the power ? 
 
 Ida. I have long known that a movable pul- 
 ley has this effect, but I never understood it be- 
 fore. 
 
 38. Mr, M. Xot even/ movable pulley, but only 
 those that have one arranged as you see this. I Fig. 26. 
 
1st DiV. OP BTATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 311 
 
 Fig. 27. 
 
 have here two movable pulleys with one rope passing over 
 them. What will one pomid at P balance at W ? 
 Ida. Fom- pounds. 
 
 M. That is correct. I have again three movable 
 pulleys, as in the figure : what will one pound at 
 P balance at W ? 
 
 Ida. I was about to say six, but I see it would 
 be eight. The figures 'on the strings show the 
 tension^ ^ or weight at each place. 
 
 Ulla. Does the power in the last example real- 
 ly move eight times as far as the weight is 
 raised ? 
 
 40. Mr. M. Exactly eight times as far whenev- 
 er it is but one eighth as heavy. 
 John. Do workmen call them pulleys ? 
 Mr. M. The ropes used about a puUey are called tackle, 
 and the pulleys blocks ; therefore, when a sailor or workman 
 collects together all things necessary for the application of 
 this machine, he speaks of the hlock and tackle. 
 What is the next simple mechanical power? 
 Ella. The Inclined Plane. 
 Mr. M. And what is an inclined plane f 
 Frank. The book says it is a plain surface inclined^* to the 
 horizon.'^ 
 
 41. Mr. M. That is true; but let us take a famUiar example. 
 To Uft barrels of flour into a cart 
 from the ground would be rather 
 hard work ; but to roll them up an 
 inclined plank or plane would be 
 comparatively easy. Suppose the 
 cart to be 
 
 Fig. 28. three feet 
 
 high, and the plane six feet long, 
 how much power will be required to 
 sustain a barrel of flour, weighing 
 two hundred pounds, on the plane ? 
 
 42. George. One hundred pounds, ^^^' *^' 
 
 if the principle by which the lever is calculated applies ; for, 
 to roU it up, the power will have to foUow the barrel the 
 
318 
 
 WILLSON S FOURTH READER. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 length of the plane ; but the barrel will only be raised the 
 height of the cart in a vertical direction. Now if the weight 
 be raised but half the space described by the power, it must 
 be twice as great. 
 
 43. Mr. M. Very well explained indeed ; and I must call 
 you George Archimedes. 
 
 Frank, These mechanical powers are more like each other 
 than one would have supposed. 
 
 44. Mr. M. The principle you 
 so much admire, and so easily 
 comprehend, is commonly known 
 as the " law of virtual velocities," 
 and I hope you will point out the 
 first exception you find to this law. 
 I expected to finish the subject 
 of mechanics at this conversation, 
 but find it necessary to continue the 
 ^^g- 30- same subject in our next lesson. 
 
 45. "You have seen in this and the previous conversa- 
 tions," continued Mr. Maynard, as the class were about to 
 separate, " that very common matters abound in philosophy ; 
 and, indeed, every thing that we can notice by any of our 
 senses is capable of afibrding us some instruction. I will here 
 remind you — what I have often said before — that it is of great 
 importance to you in early life to cultivate such an inquiring 
 state of mind as will not only incline you to notice every thing 
 around you, but also to examine into the causes of things. 
 By so doing you will find matters of interest in the most 
 common things of life, and every thing will preach to you 
 philosophy.^'* 
 
 46. The system of education pursued by Mr. Maynard, and 
 his great success in it, were such as to discredit^^ the doctrine 
 that pupils must entirely master one subject before entering 
 upon another. Proceeding upon the idea that the human mind 
 is not a unit in its operations, and that its harmonious devel- 
 opment demands a great variety of subjects for the exercise 
 of its varied powers, the range that he gave to his pupils in 
 the domains of knowledge was a very extensive one. Like the 
 honey-bee, they were led to pass from flower to flower in Na- 
 
1st DiV. OF 
 
 NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 819 
 
 ture's boundless parterres, ^'^ and gather sweets from aU of 
 them. 
 
 47. " Nature," said Mr. Maynard, " does not teach us the 
 whole of one science before she imparts some knowledge of 
 another. She has given us five senses, and it is our duty so 
 to educate them that they may be faithful and ' swift-winged 
 messengers' to convey to the mind perceptions^^ of the sur- 
 rounding world. The more of these well-assorted mental 
 stores are garnered up in the chambers of thought, ready to 
 respond to the call of memory, the greater the amount of ma- 
 terial which the mental powers will have to work upon. 
 
 48. " Let no one," said he, "compare the mind of the child, 
 thus educated, to a reservoir filled by art. While every sys- 
 tem of education should be based upon thorough discipline 
 of the mental powers^ I would place before them an abund- 
 ance of the materials of knowledge ; and as ideas are recol- 
 lected perceptions, we may expect, other things being equal, 
 to find the most ideas in those who have had the most thor- 
 ough education of the senses." 
 
 49. Let us profit by such suggestions. Lideed, what ex- 
 tent and variety of knowledge are required in the teacher of 
 children ! To be a perfect specimen — a model teacher — all 
 Bclence and literature should be at his command : he should 
 be a master of the art of instruction, and fascination should 
 dwell upon his lips. 
 
 1 Me-€Uan'-i€-al, pertaining to machines 
 and the principles of mechanics. Me- 
 chanic-^ is that science whicli treats of the 
 doctrines of motion. 
 
 2 fJiE'-SAK's Bridge. This refers to the 
 famous bridge which Caesar built for 
 crossing the Rhine into Germany. 
 
 3 €at-a-pul'-t\ or €at'-a-pult, Bal-lTs'- 
 TA, and S€6b'-pi-o, were warlike engines 
 for throwing stones, darts, and javelins 
 to a distance. 
 
 * Ar-PRE'-ciATE, set a proper value upon. 
 
 ^ Mod-i-fi-€a'-tion», changes of form em- 
 bracing the same principles. 
 
 * In-flex'-i-ble, that can not be bent. 
 
 ' l'i;L'-fRCM, that by which a lever is sus- 
 tained, or the point about which it moves. 
 
 8 F6em'-u-la, a general statement of a 
 principle, or general expression for re- 
 solving certain cases or problems. 
 
 9 Man'-u-al, a small hand-book containing 
 a set of rules, principles, or directions. 
 
 '0 The-o-eet'-i€-al, pertaining to theory, 
 as opposed to practice. 
 
 11 Ax'-is or Piv'-OT, the point of suspension 
 on which the lever turns. 
 
 12 AR-eni-ME'-DEs, a famous mathematician 
 and mechanician of antiquity, born at 
 Syracuse, in Sicily. He declared that if 
 he had another earth on which to place 
 his machines, he could move that which 
 we inhabit. By the invention of ma- 
 chines he for a long time defended Syr- 
 acuse on its being besieged by the Ro- 
 mans under Marcellus. 
 
 13 Ten'-siox, the straining, tightness or 
 stretching caused by the weight or power. 
 
 1* In-€lTned', tending downward in direc- 
 tion. 
 
 15 Ho-Bi'-ZON, the level circle which touches 
 the earth at the place of the spectator, 
 and is bounded by the line in which the 
 earth and skies seem to meet. 
 
 16 Dis-€Eif.D'-iT, show the error of; deprive 
 of credit. 
 
 17 Par-terbes' (pdr-tdrs), flower-gardens. 
 
 18 Pee-oep'-tion, the notice which the mftid 
 takes of external objects. 
 
320 
 
 willson's fourth ueadeb. 
 
 Part V. 
 
 Fig. 31. 
 
 LESSON vni. 
 
 MECHANICAL VOWEBS—Continmi. 
 
 1. 3fr. M. The wheel and axle is, as 
 you see, a U'cer continually acting, and, 
 of course, its powers will be estimated 
 on the same principle as the lever. If 
 the circumference of the wheel is 10 
 feet, and that of the axle 2 feet, what 
 power ^ applied at the circumference of 
 the wheel, will balance 500 poimds sus- 
 pended from the axle ? 
 
 2. Frayik. The rope attached to the 
 weight will go two feet in one revolution, which will raise 
 the weight two feet ; and if we multiply the weight, 500, by 
 its distance, 2 feet, we have 1000. But as the power, multi- 
 plied by its distance, 10, must equal this, we have 100 for an 
 
 answer. 
 
 Mr. M, That is very handsomely explain- 
 ed. What modifications of the xcheel and 
 axle can you name ? 
 
 John, The windlass seems to be, in real- 
 Fig. 32. i^y^ ^jje jgame thing. 
 
 3. Frank. So is the cap- 
 stan., used on large vessels 
 for raising anchors. It is 
 a perpendicular windlass, 
 with holes in its head, in 
 which capstan-bars are put, 
 and many men can work at 
 once. 
 
 Fig. 33. 
 
 Fig. 34. 
 
 George. Is not the tread-mill, 
 sometimes used to raise a heavy 
 mass of iron for the purpose of 
 driving piles, or long logs for 
 wharves, a kind of wheel and 
 axle? 
 
l«t Div. OP NATtJBAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 321 
 
 Fig. 35. 
 
 4. Mr, M. It is a wheel and axle made 
 to revolve- by the weight of several per- 
 sons stepping constantly on the circum- 
 ference of a long wheel. The tread- 
 wheel is often employed in prisons as a 
 means of driving machinery, where the 
 rogues, as they turn the wheel, can sing, 
 
 "They've built us up a noble wall, 
 To keep the vulgar out : 
 We've nothing in the world to do 
 But just to walk about." 
 
 Next we must talk about the icedge^ which is reckoned as 
 two inclined planes. Give me some examples of the use of 
 this modified mechanical power. 
 
 5. Ida. Nails, knives, needles, axes, hatchets, chisels, razors^ 
 swords, and scissors. 
 
 JElla. Then scissors are both levers and 
 inclined planes. 
 
 Ml'. M. You have named but few of 
 the applications of this power. The 
 wedge is commonly employed in split- 
 ting wood, rocks, etc. A thin wedge re- 
 ^ quires less power to move it forward 
 ?ljj^^ than a thick one. Can you give me one 
 lig. 36.' of the most surprising instances of the 
 
 power gained by the use of the wedge ? 
 
 6. FrcmJc. I think its use in the supporting and launching 
 of ships is certainly very surprising. 
 
 JElla. Oh ! I should be so delighted to understand how a 
 ship is launched. I have just read and learned Longfellow's 
 beautiful description of the ^'•Building of the Ship.^"* 
 
 Mr. M. Then you may repeat it if you please. 
 
 Ella. I am not certain that I shall get all the words right, 
 but I will try. 
 
 7. *' Then the master, 
 
 With gesture of command 
 Waved his hand ; 
 And at the word, 
 
 Loud and sudden there was heard, 
 O 2 
 
322 WILLSON's fourth BEADEK. Part V. 
 
 All around them, and below, 
 
 The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 
 
 Knocking away the shores and spurs. 
 
 And see ! she stirs ! 
 She starts — she moves — she seems to feel 
 The thrill of life along her keel. 
 And, spurning with her foot the ground, 
 With one exulting, joyous bound. 
 She leaps into the ocean's arms." 
 
 8. Mr, M, The very lines seem almost enough to start the 
 vessel from her ways/ but the reality is a little more prosaic.^ 
 
 The weight of the ship you see 
 in the picture is supported on 
 blocks and wedges under the 
 keel.3 Along the sides are 
 smooth timbers, at an inclina- 
 tion sufficient to enable the ves- 
 sel to slide when the weight 
 comes on to the sliding planks, 
 by means of a frame or cradle 
 I'ig- 3T. fitted to the form of the ship. 
 
 9. The ways being well greased, the blocks and wedges 
 which had been supporting the ship are driven out from under 
 the keel, until the whole weight gradually rests upon the slid- 
 ing ways or cradle, when the noble structure, from its own 
 weight, glides into the water. The screw alone remains of the 
 mechanical powers, and this is only a spiral* inclined plane. 
 
 10. John. Is the screw a simple machine? 
 
 Mr. M. The screw is placed under the head of simple ma- 
 chines, but can not be used without the application of a lever 
 or some other contrivance, when it becomes a compound en- 
 gine of great power, either in pressing bodies closer together, 
 or in raising great weights. 
 
 George. I do not see how the screw is an inclined plane. 
 Will you please explain it ? 
 
 11. Mr. M. That will be evident if you wind the triangu- 
 
 g lar piece of paper, 5, i, around the pencil or cyl- 
 ^^_J| inder, a, a. Do you not see that the upper edge 
 
 ~ — ^ p of the paper continues around the pencil from 
 
 Fig. 8s. ** bottom to top ? 
 
1st DiV. OF 
 
 NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 323 
 
 George. Yes, sir, it is very plain. 
 
 Ella. The upper edge of the paper, which certainly repre- 
 sents an inclined plane., coincides with the screw. And now 
 I see that our winding stairs may be called a large screw. 
 
 12. Mr. M. True, common stairs may be considered as an 
 inclined plane, with notches to keep the feet fi'om slipping, 
 and the winding of the plane makes a screw. In this case 
 
 people walk on the threads of 
 the screw, but commonly the 
 screw itself is turned. It con- 
 sists of two parts. In the fig- 
 ure which I here show you, a, 
 a, is called the screw / c, c, the 
 nut ; and 5, the lever. 
 
 13. John. I see, if the screw 
 
 is turned one 
 
 way. 
 
 it will be 
 
 Fig. 33. 
 
 raised from the nut a distance 
 equal to that between the turns 
 or threads., while if it is turned 
 the other way it will be lowered the same distance. I would 
 like to know how the power gained by its use is calculated. 
 
 14. Mr.M. Well,suppose the distance between the threads 
 to be one inch., and the length of the lever five feet^ what 
 pressure can be exerted if a power of ten pounds be applied 
 at the end of the handle ? 
 
 George. Surely this can not be difficult, for the distance in 
 inches which the handle moves, 
 multiplied by the power, ten 
 pounds, must be equal to the one 
 inch which the screw moves, mul- 
 tiplied by the number of pounds' 
 pressure.* 
 
 15. 3fr. M. I am glad you un- 
 derstand the beautiful simplicity 
 of the formula I gave you in the 
 *'is- 40. last conversation. 
 
 * The distance described by the power must be ten feet in diameter, or 31.416 feet in 
 circumference, which, multiplied by the power 10, will give 314.16. Divide this by one 
 iich, or one twelfth of a foot, and we obtain 3769.92 pounds for the pressure exerted by 
 a power of ten pounds. 
 
324 willson's fourth eeadeb. Part v. 
 
 John. I have heard of an endless screw, but I do not exact- 
 ly understand its arrangement. 
 
 16. Mr. M. When the screw is applied to a toothed wheel, 
 it is called 2i perpetual or endless screw, as it constantly moves 
 in one direction, and keeps the wheel moving round. I pre- 
 sume, by a little study, you could calculate its power.* 
 
 Frank. The screw must be a power of very extensive ap- 
 phcation. It even propels large vessels round the world. 
 
 17. Ida. I suppose it was this application of the power 
 that uncle John had in mind w^hen he said Englaiid and 
 America were held together by screws. 
 
 Mr. M. Politically as well as mechanically, this is a most 
 important and powerful application of the screw. Do you 
 understand the mode of its application to the propulsion^ of 
 ships ? 
 
 18. FranJc. I have seen a vessel in a dry dock, and, as the 
 water was withdrawn, had a good opportunity to see how tho 
 enormous screw, or rather part of a screw, was fixed. A 
 
 piece of iron, called a shaft, came through 
 
 the timbers, and the blades composing the 
 
 screw were attached to the end of it ; and 
 
 any one could see that by turning, it would 
 
 push against the water, and by the reaction 
 
 would propel or push forward the vessel. 
 
 ^'^■*^- 19. 3fr.M. The screw of the steam-ship 
 
 Great Britain was fifteen feet in diameter, and it was turned 
 
 by a power reckoned equal to a thousand horses. Have you 
 
 heard of any other remarkable application of this power ? 
 
 John. I have read of light-houses constructed on piles 
 screwed down firmly into the sand. 
 
 George. There is also a kind oip>iimp., called Archimedes' 
 Screw, which I would hke very much to understand. 
 
 * If the winch, or handle, be 20 inches long, and the screw 2 inch- 
 es in diameter, there is evidently a power of 20 gained ; then, if the 
 wheel have 30 teeth, and the screw at each revolution throws off 1 
 tooth, this is a power of '6- gained, which multiplied by 20, the 
 other power, gives a power of 600. Again, say tliat the cylinder 
 which supports the weight is only half the diameter of the wheel, 
 that is an additional power of 2 to 1, by which multiply the former 
 power, and the reault is 1200 as the power gained by this machine, 
 
1st DiV. OP NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 325 
 
 20. Mr. M. This pump will be explained when we come 
 to the subject of Hydraulics.^ We have now treated of the 
 three primary and the three modified or compound mechan- 
 •ical powers. I think, from the readiness of your answers, 
 that you understand enough of them to enable you to make 
 any ordinary calculations pertaining to machinery. Our next 
 conversation will be miscellaneous mechanical matters. 
 
 1 Ways, the timbers on which a vessel is I tending from stem to stern at the bottom, 
 launched. and supporting the whole frame. 
 
 2 Peo-sa'-i€, pertaining to prose, hence less * SpI'-ral, winding like a screw. 
 
 interesting than a poetical description 
 would indicate. 
 3 Keel, the principal timber in a ship, ex- 
 
 Peo-pul'-sion, the act of driving forward. 
 6 Hy-deaul'-ic8, that branch of Natural 
 Philosophy which treats of fluids consid- 
 ered as in motion. See Fifth Reader. 
 
 LESSON IX. 
 MISCELLANEOUS MECHANICAL MATTERS. 
 
 1. Mr. M. In our last conversation we discussed the law 
 of equilibrium^ of the mechanical powers, as it is in theory ; 
 but when we make a practical application of these powers, 
 a deduction^ must be made for friction, or the rubbing of sur- 
 faces against each other. Will each of you name some in- 
 stance of the utility^ of friction. 
 
 2. Joh7i. The bands that turn the wheels of mills and fac- 
 tories are kept from slipping by friction. 
 
 George. The cars are drawn over the railroad by the fric- 
 tion of the large, or driving wheels of the locomotive, and 
 when they slip round, as they sometimes do in starting, I 
 nave seen the engineer throw sand on the rails to increase 
 the friction. 
 
 3. Fraifik,. When the engineer wishes to stop the cars, he 
 blows the whistle as a signal, and the brakeman turns a 
 wheel, which brings a rubber against the car- wheels, and they 
 are soon stopped by friction. 
 
 Ida. If there is any utility in dancing, I can give an in- 
 stance of the utility of friction in the chalk which is some- 
 times put so grotesquely* on the floors of dancing-halls. 
 
 4. Ella. The friction caused by ashes tHrown on icy side- 
 walks is certainly useful. 
 
326 willson's fourth reader. Part V. 
 
 Mr. M. It would be difficult for you to name any of the 
 ordinary occupations of life without giving an instance of the 
 utility of friction. It holds the nails and screws in our houses, 
 enables us to walk, and even to hold knives, pencils, and 
 books in our hands. It is increased by roughness, and it has 
 been found that there is more friction between pieces of metal 
 of the same kind, than between similar pieces of different 
 metals. 
 
 5. Franh. I wonder if that was the reason why Juno's 
 chariot wheels were of brass, and the axle of iron or steel. 
 Homer, who is good authority on such matters, says, 
 
 " Hebe to the chariot roll'd 
 The brazen wheels, and joined them to the smooth 
 Steel axle.^'' 
 
 6. Mr. M. If I may add to Master Frank's classical allu- 
 sions, I will mention that the gates of the infernal regions, 
 according to Homer were of iro7i, and the threshold of brass / 
 though, if I recollect correctly, Virgil says " they are open 
 night and day." 
 
 7. John. I know that all machinists say that surfaces of 
 brass and steel move upon each other easier than when both 
 are alike. 
 
 Frank. That is just what the engineer of a steam-ship said 
 when I was on board, and asked why he was using what he 
 called a7iti-attrition^ metal, made from copper, antimony, and 
 tin. 
 
 8. Ida. I see now why a jeweled watch is better than a 
 common one. The friction is less. 
 
 Mia. When we apply oil to our sewing machines, I suppose 
 it must be to diminish friction. 
 
 9. Mr. M. You have an excellent habit of observation, 
 which saves me much time and trouble in giving illustrations 
 and experiments. Useful as friction is, we sometimes try to 
 avoid it, as in putting wheels under loads to be transported, 
 and casters or rollers on tables and other articles of furniture. 
 
 10. John. I would like to ask a question. May not the 
 pulley be regarded as a modification of the lever ? 
 
 Mr. M. The wheel we call the pulley may be so considered, 
 but, taken as a whole, the cord and wheel may be called the 
 
J«t DiV. OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 327 
 
 pulley^ though the term cord would be more proper. Now, 
 as we are approaching the conchision of the department of 
 Philosophy called Mechanics, I would suggest that each one 
 of you propose a question involving some of the principles 
 which have formed the topics of our conversations. 
 
 11. Frank. I am really glad to have such an opportunity 
 to get a solution'^ of my own difficulties and those of my 
 classmates. I would like to ask if it is possible to construct 
 a machine which, when put in motion, will never stop till it 
 is worn out. 
 
 12. Mr. M. In other words, 2^ perpetual motion. Thou- 
 sands of dollars have been uselessly spent in vain attempts to 
 accomplish it. I will reply to your very proper question by 
 reading a brief extract from Professor Loomis's Natural Phi- 
 losophy. He says, 
 
 "By perpetual motion in mechanics we''imderstand a mor 
 chine which moves without ceasing^ and requires no new ap- 
 plication of force from without. A machine which renews 
 itself (as, for example, a watch which runs for 24 hours, and 
 then winds itself up^ so as to be ready to run another 24 
 hours, without any assistance from beyond itself) would be 
 such a perpetual motion as has been long sought for by vi- 
 sionary inventors. A machine of this kind is impossible., be- 
 cause no combination of machinery produces any positive in- 
 crease of power." 
 
 13. A great many machines have been proposed for pro- 
 ducing perpetual motion. Here is a draw- 
 ing of one of them — a large wheel, carrying 
 twelve equal arms, each movable on a hinge, 
 and having at its extremity a heavy ball. 
 
 c a=**\ y J^ But all machines for perpetual motion have 
 
 failed, unless sustained by expansion and 
 
 contraction from change of temperature, or 
 
 Fig. 42. electricaP action in some way ; and when 
 
 the motion is thus sustained, it is no more perpetual motion 
 
 than the paper-mill at Niagara Falls. 
 
 14. Frank. The reply satisfies me fully, and I shall report 
 it to a good neighbor of ©urs who is constantly engaged in 
 efforts to produce a perpetual motion. 
 
328 WILLSON's fourth header. Part V. 
 
 John. I would like to understand what is meant by a 
 horse-power and a xinit of work. 
 
 15. Mr. M. What is called a unit of work is the labor ex- 
 pended in raising one pound of matter 07ie foot in height, in 
 opposition to gravity. The eminent engineer Watt estimated 
 that a horse could perform 33,000 units of work in a minute ; 
 in other words, that a horse could raise 33,000 pounds to the 
 height of one foot in a minute of time, or one pound to the 
 height of 33,000 feet. To see if you understand my reply, I 
 will propose a question. How many horses' power will be 
 required to raise 500 pounds of coal per minute from a pit 
 330 feet deep? 
 
 16. John. The amount of work consists of the power mul- 
 tiplied by the distance ; therefore 500 pounds raised 330 feet 
 will be 165,000 units of work. A horse can perform 33,000 
 of these units in a ftiinute ; therefore I divide the whole num- 
 ber of units by 33,000, and get for an answer 5 horses' power. 
 
 Mr. M. John has answered admirably. What question 
 has George ? 
 
 George. I wish to know if the large hind wheels of a car- 
 riage tend to push forward the small fore wheels. 
 
 17. Mr. M. They do not; hence the wheels of railroad 
 cars are made of the same size. In carriages it is convenient 
 to have the fore-wheels smaller, on account of turning the 
 carriage more easily, and often for facility in getting into and 
 out of them. Besides, the line of traction^ or draft, should 
 extend to a point lower than the horse's breast, otherwise the 
 collar by which he draws will rise up and choke him, which 
 would be very inconvenient for all concerned. 
 
 Ida. My question is one which I never could understand. 
 Why can ships sail in opposite directions when driven by the 
 same wind ? 
 
 18. Mr.M. I will try to make the matter plain to you. 
 On the opposite page is a drawing in which you will see the 
 direction of several ships, and the position in which the wind 
 strikes against the sails. The wind, which is here represent- 
 ed as blowing from the north, strikes directly against the 
 ship at m, and she is scudding., oi; sailing before the windy 
 in the same direction the wind blows. In all the other ves- 
 
1st Div. OP NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 b29 
 
 aka 
 
 sels the sails receive the 
 wind obhquely, or not at 
 right angles with the keel. 
 
 19. The wind, blowing ^^^ 
 against the sail of the ship '^jt^ 
 at /*, the keel being kept m^^, 
 in the same direction by 
 the rudder, is resolved into 
 two forces, one of which 
 tends to drive the vessel 
 ahead, and the other to 
 push her sideways. If the 
 vessel were in the form 
 of a tub, she would move 
 toward A, or in the diagonal of a square, provided the sail 
 could be kept so as to receive the wind as shown at/l 
 
 20. Vessels are not round, but long ; so it requires much 
 more force to push them sideways than forward. By a prop- 
 er management of the rudder, not shown in -the figure, the 
 ship can be made to sail almost against the wind. When 
 sailing as nearly opposite or against the wind as possible, the 
 ship is said to be close hauled, as those marked a and b. 
 
 21. Ida. The whole matter seems very plain to me now. 
 JEJlla. I fear I shall not so easily understand the answer to 
 
 my question, as it is perhaps beyond the capacity of a little 
 girl ; but no question is too hard to aslc. Ever since I heard 
 that philosophers had weighed the earth, I have been anxious 
 to know how it was done. 
 
 22. Mr. M. To understand the method pursued by those 
 who have weighed the earth will require a fuller explanation 
 than I have given of the action of gravity. Every particle 
 of matter attracts every other particle, as you have learned ; 
 but the attraction is rapidly diminished as the distance in- 
 creases. It is inversely^^ as the square of the distance — that 
 is, at tioice the earth's radius^^ from its centre gravity is one 
 fourth what it is at the surface. In other words, a pound of 
 matter, as weighed at the surface, would weigh only four 
 ounces 4000 miles above the surface. 
 
 23. If a lead ball were to hang from the top of a tower, it 
 
330 WILLSOn's fourth eeadee. Past V. 
 
 would be attracted a little toward the tower as well as a 
 great deal toward the earth. Now if I can find how much 
 the tower attracts the ball, also the weight of the tower and 
 the position of its centre of gravity^ as I know the distance 
 of the eartKs centre of gravity^ I can find the weight of the 
 earth. 
 
 Do you understand how f 
 
 Ella. I confess I am as much perplexed as ever. 
 
 24. Mr. M. I did not expect you to understand with so 
 slight an explanation, and am glad to hear you frankly admit 
 that you do not. That is the way to learn. If there were 
 two globes of equal weight, as two earths, for instance, and 
 a ball were suspended from some distant point so as to be 
 only under the influence of the two spheres,^^ toward which 
 would it hang ? 
 
 Ella. Toward neither, but half way between them. 
 
 25. Mr. M. You will soon see, then, how the earth is 
 weighed. Let us suppose the spheres unequal ; you must 
 understand that the ball would hang nearer the heavier 
 sphere, but still between them. If you knew the weight of 
 OTie sphere, and the distance apart of the centres of hoth^ and 
 how much nearer the ball hung to one than to the other, 
 could you find the weight of the other 9 
 
 26. Ella. I think I see now how it could be done, and 
 how the earth could be weighed by these principles ; for, if 
 we have the weight of one sphere, its distance from the little 
 ball, and the power exerted by it on the ball, we know that 
 the power exerted by the earth must bear a similar propor- 
 tion to its weight and distance. It does not appear to me 
 half so surprising as it did before that philosophers can weigh 
 the earth; but it seems more and more wonderful that all 
 things are governed by laws so fixed and uniform. 
 
 27. Mr. M. And the more you study Natural Philosophy, 
 the more plain and simple will its principles seem to you, and 
 the more enlarged will become your views of the works of the 
 Creator. The mind that comprehends the wonderful laws, 
 so sublimely simple and beautiful, that regulate the vast uni- 
 verse of worlds, must ever be deeply impressed with the con- 
 viction that there is a great and overruling mind which plan- 
 
1st DiV. OF NATUEAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 331 
 
 ned them all, and which still keeps them in harmonious ac- 
 tion. It is impossible for a true philosopher to doubt the ex- 
 istence of a God. 
 
 28. Here Mr. Maynard informed the class that, as they had 
 now gone over the first great division of subjects embraced 
 in Natural Philosophy, he would bring these conversations to 
 a close ; but he hoped to resume them after a few months, 
 when subjects of still greater interest and more variety, in the 
 same important field, would be presented to them. 
 
 29. He remarked that they were but just entering upon the 
 study of Nature's laws, and hoped they would not think they 
 had done any thing more than just to make a beginning. 
 " The more you learn," said he, " the more you will find there 
 is to be learned ; and if you are at all disposed to vanity, the 
 less vain will you be of your own attainments. Much knowl- 
 edge will always cause, in a sensible person, a feeling of hu- 
 mility, in view of how little he can hope to know in this 
 world, even after a long life spent in study, compared with 
 what will still be unknown. 
 
 30. " This principle is well illustrated," said Mr. Maynard, 
 •' in the words spoken by that eminent philosopher and true 
 Christian, Sir Isaac Newton, a short time before his death. 
 • I do not know,' said he, ' what I may appear to the world ; 
 but to myself I seem to have been only likQ a child playing 
 on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then find- 
 ing a prettier pebble or shell than ordinary, while the great 
 ocean of truth lay all unexplored before me.' If the great 
 Newton, with his powerful intellect, and after devoting a life- 
 time to the study of Nature's laws (which are none other 
 than the laws of God), could utter such a sentiment, how 
 much more becoming are modesty and humility in us." 
 
 1 E-qtfi-lTb'-ri-ttm, a state of rest produced 
 by the mutual counteraction of two or 
 more forces. 
 
 2 De-du€'-tion, allowance ; abatement. 
 ' U-til''-i-ty, usefulness. 
 
 * Gbo-tesque'-lt, in a fantastic manner. 
 
 » €lab'-si€-al, relating to Greek and Ro- 
 man authors of the first rank or estimation. 
 
 fi At-tbi"-tion means the act of wearing by 
 friction ; and anti - attrition means not 
 7i;earing by friction. 
 
 ' So-Lij'-TION, explanation. 
 
 8 E-LEC'-TRi^-.^L, pertaining to electricity. 
 
 9 Tr.\€'-tion, the act of drawing, or state 
 of being drawn. 
 
 10 In-vkrse'-ly, in an inverted order. A 
 term used when one quantity is greater 
 as another is less, or less as another is 
 greater. 
 
 '1 Ka'-di-us, a line extending from the cen- 
 tre of a circle to its circumference. The 
 earth's radius is half the earth's diameter. 
 
 12 Sphere, a solid body in the form of a 
 round ball. 
 
332 
 
 WtLLSON'S FOUETH EEADEE. 
 
 Paet VI. 
 
 PAET VL 
 
 SKETCHES FEOM SACEED HISTORY. 
 
 [Continued from the Third Reader.] 
 
 " Give me understanding, and I shall keep thy law j yea, I shall observe 
 it with my whole heart." — Psalm cxix., 34. 
 
 "Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this proph- 
 ecy, and keep those things which are written therein." — i?ey., i., 3. 
 
Pabt VI. SKETCHES FROM SACEED HISTOEY. 333 
 
 LESSON I. 
 
 THE CURSE QF CAIN. 
 
 1. It was after our first parents had been driven forth from 
 the garden of Eden, and while they were still living, that the 
 first great crime that stains the annals^ of our race was com- 
 mitted. Cain and Abel were the two sons of Adam and 
 Eve ; and Cain was a tiller of the ground, but Abel was a 
 keeper of sheep. 
 
 2. In temper and disposition the two brothers were as 
 difierent as their occupations; for while Abel was meek, 
 humble, and pious, Cain i^ haughty, envious, and revenge- 
 ful. When they brought their customary sacrifices before 
 the Lord, the Lord had respect to Abel and to his offering ; 
 but unto Cain and his offering the Lord had not respect. 
 
 3. Then was Cain angry; and he talked with Abel his 
 brother ; and it came to pass, when they were in the field, 
 that Cain rose up against Abel, and slew him. And the Lord 
 said unto Cain, Where is Abel thy brother^ ? And he said, 
 I know not : Am I my brother's keeper' ? 
 
 4. And the Lord said', What hast thou done^ ? The voice 
 of thy brother's blood crieth imto me from the ground. And 
 now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her 
 mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand. When 
 thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee 
 her strength. A fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in 
 the earth. 
 
 5. Thus was Cain cursed, and driven away from his friends 
 and kindred. And he " went out from the presence of the 
 Lord, and dwelt in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden." 
 
 The CuESE OF Cain has been thus described : 
 
 6. O, the wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing ! — 
 Like the tempest that withers the blossoms of spring, 
 Like the thunder ihi. ibursts on the summer's domain, 
 It fell on the head of the homicide^ Cain. 
 
 7. And, lo ! like a deer in the fright of the chase, 
 With a fire in his heart, and a brand^ on his face, 
 
334 WILLSOn's fourth reader. Part VI. 
 
 He speeds him afar to the desert of Nod, 
 
 A vagabond, smote by the vengeance of God ! 
 
 8. All nature, to him, has been blasted and banned, * 
 And the blood of a brother yet reeks on his hand ; 
 And no vintage has grown, and no fountain has sprung, 
 For cheering his heart, or for cooling his tongue. 
 
 9. The groans of a father his slumber shall start. 
 And the tears of a mother shall pierce to his heart. 
 And the kiss of his children shall scorch him like flame, 
 When he thinks of the cufse that hangs over his name. 
 
 10. And the wife of his bosom — the faithful and fair — 
 Can mix no sweet drop in his cup of despair ; 
 
 For her tender caress, and her innocent breath, 
 But stir in his soul the hot embers of death. 
 
 1 1 . And his offering may blaze unr^||ftrded by Heaven ; 
 And his spirit may pray, yet remain unforgiven ; 
 
 And his grave may be closed, yet no rest to him bring ; — 
 
 O, the wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing ! Knox. 
 
 1 an'-nals, records of events. 1 3 Brand, a mark burnt in. 
 
 * H6m'-i-oide, a person who kills another. |* Ban'nep, cursed. 
 
 LESSON 11. 
 HAGAR m THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 1. It was several hundred years after the time of Cain that 
 the wicked were destroyed by a flood, an account of which 
 is given in the seventh chapter of Genesis. Then follows the 
 history of Noah and his sons, the building of the tower of 
 Babel, the calling of Abraham, and the destruction of Sodom 
 and Gomorrah. 
 
 2. Although Isaac, the younger son of Abraham, was the 
 child of promise, in whom " the nations of the earth were to 
 be blessed," yet Abraham had an elder son Ishmael, who was 
 born of Hagar the Egyptian, the bond-maid of his wife Sarah. 
 But Ishmael was jealous of Isaac, who had destroyed his 
 hopes of inheriting his father's rank and property ; and when 
 Sarah saw Ishmael mocking her sr*i Isaac, she said to Abra- 
 ham, " Cast out this bond-woman and her son." 
 
 3. Then Abraham, being directed by the Lord, rose up 
 early in the morning, and took bread, and a bottle of water, 
 
Part VI. 
 
 SKETCHES EEOM SACEED HISTORF. 
 
 335 
 
 and gave it unto Hagar and the child, and sent them away. 
 We can well imagine the feelings of sadness with which the 
 aged patriarch parted with these members of his household, 
 and how he turned him to his tent in sorrow as the dejected 
 Hagar took her departure. How beautifully do the following 
 lines describe this parting scene : 
 
 *' Why bends the patriarch as he cometh noAv 
 Upon his staff so wearily ? His beard 
 Is low upon his breast ; and his high brow, 
 So written with the converse^ of his God, 
 Beareth the swollen vein of agony. 
 His lip is quivering, and his wonted'^ step 
 ^ Of vigor is not there ; and though the morn 
 
 Is passing fair and beautiful, he breathes 
 Its freshness as it were a pestilence. 
 He gave to her the water and the bread, 
 But spoke no word, and trusted not himself 
 To look upon her face, but laid his hand 
 In silent blessing on the fair-hair'd boy, 
 And left her to her lot of loneliness." 
 
 4. And Hagar departed, and wandered in the Wilderness 
 of Beer-sheba. And when the water was spent in the bottle^ 
 
336 WILLSON's FOUETH BEADER. Part VI. 
 
 and Ishmael was sore athirst, and his blue eyes were dim and 
 bloodshot, she bore him in her arms, and laid his head 
 
 *' Beneath the shadow of a desert shrub; 
 
 * And, shrouding^ up her face, she went away, 
 And sat to watch, where he could see her not, 
 Till he should die ; and, watching him, she moum'd : 
 
 % 
 
 5. *' God stay thee in thine agony, my boy^ ! 
 I can not see thee die^ ; I can not brook* 
 
 Upon thy brow to look, 
 And see death settle on my cradle joy\ 
 How have I drunk the light of thy blue eye^ ! 
 
 And could I see thee die' ? 
 
 6. , "I did not dream of this when thou wast straying, 
 Like an unbound gazelle, among the flowers ; 
 
 Or whiling* the soft hours, 
 By the rich gush of water-sources playing, 
 Then sinking weary to thy smiling sleep. 
 
 So beautiful and deep. 
 
 7. "Oh no^ ! and when I watch'd by thee the while, 
 
 And saw thy bright lip curling in thy dream, 
 
 And thought of the dark stream 
 In my own land of Egypt, the far Nile', 
 How pray'd I that my father's land might be 
 A heritage^ for thee^ ! 
 
 8. ** And now the grave for its cold breast hath won thee' ! 
 
 And thy white, delicate limbs the earth will press^ ; 
 
 And oh ! my Last caress 
 Must feel thee cold\ for a chill hand is on thee\ 
 How can I leave my boy, so i)illow'd'' there 
 
 Upon his clustering hair^ !" 
 
Part VI. 
 
 SKETCHES FROM SACRED HISTORY. 
 
 337 
 
 9. And the angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven, 
 and said unto her, " What aileth thee, Hagar' ? Arise, lift 
 up the lad, and hold him in thine hand, for I will make him a 
 great nation." And God opened her eyes, and she saw a 
 well of water : and she went and filled the bottle with water, 
 and gave the lad drink. 
 
 10. " She stood beside the well her God had given 
 
 To gush in that deep wilderness, and bathed 
 The forehead of her child until he laugh'd 
 In his reviving happiness, and lisp'd 
 His infant thought of gladness at the sight 
 Of the cool plashing of his mother's hand." 
 
 N. P. Willis. 
 
 11. And God was with the lad Ishmael ; and he grew, and 
 dwelt in the wilderness, and became an archer. From him 
 descended the nations of the Arabians, who have always been 
 a wild people, as was foretold of them by the angel of the 
 Lord, when he said of Ishmael, " He will be a wild man : his 
 hand will be against every man, and every man's hand against 
 him." 
 
 1 C8n'-vke8E, conversation ; familiar inter- 
 course. 
 
 2 W6imt'-kd, accustomed. 
 i SHBom>'-iNG, covering. 
 
 4 Bkook, endure ; bear. 
 
 5 WiiiL'-iNG, beguiling; deceiving. 
 
 6 IIek'-it-age, inheritance. 
 
 "^ I'il'-lowed, resting upon, as on a pillow. 
 
 LESSON HI. 
 THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. 
 
 1. From Jacob, the son of Isaac, were descended the peo- 
 ple caUed Israelites, whose history occupies a great portion 
 of the Old Testament. Jacob was the father of that Joseph 
 who was sold into Egypt, and who became governor of the 
 land under Pharaoh. But the descendants of Joseph and his 
 brethren were reduced to bondage by the Egyptians, and 
 treated with great cruelty. 
 
 2. At length the Lord raised up Moses to deliver the Is- 
 raelites from bondage; and, in answer to the prayers of 
 Moses, great plagues fell upon the Egyptians ; but it was not 
 until the Lord smote all the first-born in the land <^f Egypt, 
 
 P 
 
338 WILLSON's FOUETH KEADEE. Part VI. 
 
 save the first-bom of the Israelites, and filled the land with 
 mourning, that Pharaoh the king consented to let the people 
 of Israel go. 
 
 3. But the Lord hardened the heart of Pharaoh again, and 
 he said, " Why have we done this, that we have let Israel go 
 from serving us ?" And with a great army of chariots and 
 horsemen he pursued the children of Israel*, and overtook 
 them encamping by the Red Sea. Then the pillar of cloud, 
 which had led the people of Israel by day, removed, and stood 
 between them and the Egyptians ; and it was a cloud and 
 darkness to Pharaoh and his host, but it gave light to the 
 children of Israel. 
 
 4. And the Lord commanded Moses, and he stretched out 
 his rod over the waters, and the w^aters of the sea divided, 
 and rose up as a wall on the right hand and on the left, and 
 the Israelites passed over on dry ground. But when the host 
 of Pharaoh pursued, the waters flowed back upon the Egyp- 
 tians and overthrew them, so that "there remained not so 
 much as one of them alive," 
 
 5. "He comes — their leader comes ! the man of God 
 
 O'er the wide waters lifts his mighty rod, 
 
 And onward treads. The circling waves retreat, 
 
 In hoarse, deep murmurs, from his holy feet ; 
 
 And the chased surges, inly roaring, show 
 
 The hard wet sand, and coral hills below. 
 
 With limbs that falter, and with hearts that swell, 
 
 Down, down they pass — a steep and slippery dell. 
 
 6. "Around them rise, in pristine^ chaos^ hurled, 
 
 The ancient rocks, the secrets of the world ; 
 
 And flowers that blush beneath the ocean green, 
 
 And caves, the sea-calves' low-roofed haunts, are seen. 
 
 Down, safely down the narrow pass they tread ; 
 
 The beetling^ waters storm above their head ; 
 
 While far behind retires the sinking day, 
 
 And fades on Edom's hills its latest ray. 
 
 Yet not from Israel fled the friendly light, 
 
 Nor dark to them, nor cheerless, came the night ; 
 
 Still in their van, along that dreadful road. 
 
 Blazed broad and fierce the brandished torch of God. 
 
 7. "Its meteor glare a ten-fold lustre gave 
 T On the long mirror of the rosy wave ; 
 
Part VI. 
 
 SKETCHES FKOM SACKED HISTORY. 
 
 339 
 
 While its bless'd beams a sun-like heat supply, 
 Warm every cheek, and dance in every eye — 
 To them alone : for Misraim's* wizard train 
 Invoke, for light, their monster-gods in vain : 
 Clouds heaped on clouds their struggling sight confine, 
 And ten-fold darkness broods above their line. 
 
 Yet on they press, by reckless vengeance led. 
 
 And range, unconscious, through the ocean's bed ; 
 
 Till midway now — that strange and fiery Form 
 
 Showed his dread visage lightening through the storm ; 
 
 With withering splendor blasted all their might, 
 
 And brake their chariot- wheels, and marred^ their coursers' flight. 
 
 * Fly, Misraim, fly !' The ravenous floods they see, 
 
 And, fiercer than the floods, the Deity. 
 
 *Fly, Misraim, fly !' From Edom's coral strand 
 
 Again the prophet stretched his dreadful wand : 
 
 With one wild crash the thundering waters sweep, 
 
 And all is waves — a dark and lonely deep : 
 
 Yet o'er those lonely waves such murmurs passed. 
 
 As mortal wailing swelled the nightly blast ; 
 
 And strange and sad the whispering breezes bore 
 
 The groans of Egypt to Arabia's shore. " Heber. 
 
 1 Peis'-tTne, early ; original. 
 
 2 €ha'-08, that confusion in which matter is 
 supposed to have existed before it was re- 
 duced to order by the creating power of 
 God. 
 
 3 Bee'tling, overhanging ; jutting over. 
 
 * Mis'-RA-iM, the name given by the He- 
 brews to ancient Egypt. 
 
 * Mab'bed, impeded ; impaired. 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 ISRAEL UNDER THE JUDGES. 
 
 1. During forty years after the passage of the Red Sea 
 the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness. Then 
 they crossed the river Jordan, and in seven years, under the 
 leadership of Joshua, completed the conquest of the greater 
 part of the land of Canaan. 
 
 2. From the time of the death of Joshua to the election of 
 Saul as king, the Israelites were ruled by judges ; but often 
 during this period they relapsed^ into idolatry, for which they 
 were punished by being delivered into the hands of the sur- 
 rounding nations. But from time to time the Lord raised up 
 good and valiant men — Othniel, and Ehud, and Barak, and 
 
340 wuxson's foukth reader. pakt VI. 
 
 the prophet Gibeon, and Jephthah — who successively deliver^ 
 ed them from the power of their enemies. 
 
 3. The history of Jephthah derives much interest from a 
 sad event which changed into mourning the public rejoicings 
 for a great victory which he had gained over the enemies of 
 his people. Before engaging in battle he made a vow to the 
 Lord, and said, " If thou shalt without fail deliver the chil- 
 dren of Ammon into my hands, then it shall be that whatso- 
 ever Cometh forth of the doors of my house to meet me, shall 
 surely be the Lord's, and I will offer it up for a burnt-offer- 
 ing." He was triumphant; but on his return to his home 
 at Mizpeh, who should come forth to meet him but his only 
 child — his daughter! This sorrowful event has been well 
 described in the following language : 
 
 JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 4. " The mighty Jephthah led his warriors on 
 Through Mizpeh's streets. His helm was proudly set\ 
 And his stern lip curl'd slightly', as if praise 
 
 Were for the hero's scorn. His step was firm, 
 But free as India's leopard ; and his mail, 
 Whose shekels^ none in Israel might bear', 
 Was like a cedar's tasseP on his frame. 
 His crest was Judah's kingliest^ ; and the look 
 Of his dark lofty eye, and bended brow', 
 Might quell the lion. 
 
 5. "A moment more', 
 
 And he had reach'd his home^ ; when lo ! there sprang 
 
 One with a bounding footstep, and a brow 
 
 Of light, to meet him. Oh ! how beautifur ! — 
 
 Her dark eye flashing like a sunlit gem — 
 
 And her luxuriant hair' ! — 'twas like the sweep 
 
 Of a swift wing in visions. He stood still, 
 
 As if the sight had wither'd him\ She threw 
 
 Her arms about his neck — he heeded not. 
 
 She called him "Father^" — but he answered not. 
 
 She stood and gazed upon him. Was he wroth ?* 
 
 There was no anger in that bloodshot eye. 
 
 Had sickness seized him' ? She unclasp'd his helm, 
 
 And laid her white hand gently on his brow, 
 
 And the large veins felt stiiFand hard, like cords. 
 
 The touch aroused him\ He raised up his hands, 
 
 And spoke the name of God, in agony. 
 
Tart VI. SKETCHES FEOM SACKED HISTORY. 
 
 341 
 
 " She knew that he was stricken, then^ ; and rush'd 
 Again into his arms^ ; and, with a flood 
 Of tears she could not stay', she sobb'd a prayer 
 That he would breathe his agony in words. 
 He told her\ and a monientaiy flush 
 Shot o'er her countenance ; and then the soul 
 Of Jpphthah's daughter waken'd^ ; and she stood 
 Calmly and nobly up, and said, 'twas well — 
 And she would die. 
 
 "The sun had well-nigh set. 
 The fire was on the altar ; and the priest 
 Of the high God was there. A pallid man 
 Was stretching out his trembling hands to heaven, 
 As if he would have prayed, but had no words — 
 And she who was to die, the calmest one « 
 
342 WILLSOn's fourth reader. Part VI. 
 
 In Israel at that hour, stood up alone, 
 And waited for the sun to set. Her face 
 Was pale, but very beautiful — her lip 
 Had a more delicate outline, and the tint 
 Was deeper ; but her countenance was like 
 The majesty of angels. 
 
 The sun set — 
 And she was dead — ^but not by violence." — N. P. Willis. 
 
 8. Although the Bible tells us that Jephthah did with his 
 daughter " according to his vow which he had vowed," yet 
 some commentators,^ making the closing paragraph of his 
 vow read, " or I will offer it up for a burnt-offering," suppose 
 that he did not slay his daughter, but dedicated her to the 
 Lord, and set her apart for the service of the tabernacle. 
 The poet has made the supposition that before the appointed 
 time of sacrifice she died, " but not by violence." 
 
 1 Re-laps'ed, fell back. I* Wroth (rawth% very angiy. 
 
 « Shek'-el, here used for weight. |s €om'-ment-X-toes, those who write com- 
 
 3 Tas'-sel, cluster of the tassel-hke leaveai ments or explanations, 
 of some species of pine. | 
 
 LESSON V. 
 RUTH AND NAOMI. 
 
 1. It was during a severe famine, while the Judges ruled 
 Israel, that Elimelech, of the tribe of Judah, with his wife 
 Naomi and his two sons, removed into the land of Moab, 
 where the young men married. Death soon deprived Naomi 
 of her husband and her sons : she then resolved to return to 
 her native country, and her daughters-in-law generously of- 
 fered to accompany her. 
 
 2. On representing the difficulties they would have to en- 
 counter, one of them was disheartened, and turned back ; but 
 the other, named Ruth, persevered. And Ruth said, "En- 
 treat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after 
 thee; for whither thou goest I will go, and where thou 
 lodgest I will lodge : thy people shall be my people, and thy 
 God my God. Where thou diest will I die, and there will I 
 be buried : the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but 
 death part thee and me." 
 
Part VI. SKETCHES FROM SACRED HISTORY. 343 
 
 3. When Naomi saw that she was steadfastly minded to go 
 with her, she left speaking to her. So Naomi returned, taking 
 her daughter-in-law with her ; and they came to Bethlehem 
 in the beginning of barley-harvest. The story of Ruth plead- 
 ing with Naomi has been very beautifully told in the follow- 
 ing lines : 
 
 4. " 'Entreat me not to leave thee, but convert me to the truth;' 
 
 So spake in sorrow and in tears the gently-chiding Kuth. 
 
 * Entreat me not to leave thee, nor unclasp thy loosening hand ; 
 
 I'll follow thee, my mother, to the far Judean land.' 
 
 But, turning still in grief away from her young, pleading face, 
 
 And sadly putting back the arms so fondly that embrace — 
 
 'My daughter,' thus Naomi said, in measured tones and deep, 
 
 ' We have our Sabbaths in that land, and holy days to keep, 
 
 And there's a bound we can not pass upon that day, you know;' 
 
 But Ruth said, 'Only where thou goest, mother, will I go.' 
 
 5. "Still spake Naomi, ' Turn again— thy home is not with me ; 
 
 For Judah's children must not with the outcast Gentile be.' 
 Ruth answered, ' In that stranger-land with thee, oh, let me stay, 
 And where thou lodgest I will lodge — I can not go away.' 
 And then again Naomi, ' We have precepts to observe. 
 And from our fathers' worship are commanded not to swerve.' 
 Ruth answered with religious zeal, ' I bow to Judah's Lord : 
 Thy people shall my people be — thy God shall be my God.' 
 
 6. "And now the mother's love burst forth, and rose in accents wild ; 
 
 ' Turn back, beloved, oh ! turn back, for think you, Ruth, my child, 
 Your fainting heart could ever bear the woes I number now ? 
 They must not dim those gentle eyes, nor darken o'er that brow ; 
 For though thy mother yields to them, yet, dearest daughter mine, 
 It were not meet that they should fall on such a head as thine.' 
 
 7. "Then Ruth, with sudden brightness in her mild and loving eye, 
 
 'However hard thy death may be, thus only will I die.' 
 But yet once more Naomi spoke, ' My daughter, for the dead 
 We have a house of burial ;' but Ruth, still answering, said, 
 ' And there will I be buried ; and the Lord deal thus by me. 
 If aught, my mother, on the earth, but death, part thee and me. ' " 
 
 Mks. E. H. J. Cleaveland. 
 
 8. On their arrival in Canaan Naomi found herself forgotten 
 by her kinsfolk, and was obliged to depend for support on 
 the labor of her affectionate daughter-in-law. While Ruth 
 was gleaning in the lands of a wealthy man of that country, 
 named Boaz, her beauty and modesty arrested his attention ; 
 
344 willson's fourth READEE. Part VI. 
 
 he spoke to her kindly, and ordered his reapers to drop some 
 of the barley in her way, so as to aflford her relief in the most 
 deUcate manner. , 
 
 9. INot long after this the virtuous Ruth became the wife 
 of the wealthy Boaz ; and from this union sprang Obed, the 
 father of Jesse, who was the father of David, the royal pro- 
 genitor of the Messiah. The story of Ruth conveys one of 
 the most beautiful pictures ever drawn of fidelity and affec- 
 tion, while its allusions to the customs of the people of Israel 
 present a lively view of pastoral and rural life as exhibited at 
 that early period of history. 
 
 LESSON^ YI. 
 THE REIGN OF DAVID. 
 
 1. The reign of David, like that of Saul, was filled with 
 wars carried on against the surrounding heathen nations. In 
 one of his wars David gained possession of Jebus, or Jerusa- 
 lem, the strong-hold of the Jebusites ; and so pleased was he 
 with the strength and beauty of the place, that he made it the 
 capital of his kingdom. 
 
 2. The latter part of the reign of David was clouded by 
 domestic calamities. The chUd of his wife Bathsheba died ; 
 Amnon, the eldest of the royal princes, was slain by his 
 brother Absalom ; and the ambitious Absalom himself plot- 
 ted against his father, and soon became the head of a formi- 
 dable conspiracy. The surpassing beauty of Absalom seemed 
 to win the hearts of the people ; and it is said of him that 
 " in aU Israel there was none to be so much praised as Absa- 
 lom for his beauty ; from the sole of his foot even imto the 
 crown of his head there was no blemish in him." 
 
 3. 'No sooner was the standard of revolt raised by his mis- 
 guided and unnatural son, than King David, with a few faith- 
 ful followers, was compelled to flee from Jerusalem. He 
 " went up by the ascent of Mount Olivet, and wept as he 
 went up, and had his head covered, and he went barefoot ; 
 and aU the people that were with him covered every man his 
 head, and they went up, weeping as they went." 
 
Part VI. SKETCHES FROM SACEED HISTORY. 345 
 
 4. Notwithstanding tlie prospects of success which at first 
 encouraged Absalom, a numerous army soon assembled around 
 King David, and the contest was to be decided by a battle. 
 The field of struggle was the wood of Ephraim, in the great 
 plain of Jordaii. The fond father gave the strongest injunc- 
 tions to his soldiers to spare his beloved son ; but as Absalom 
 fled from the field, his long and beautiful hair became entan- 
 gled in an oak, and in this condition Joab, the king's captain, 
 slew him. 
 
 5. When word was brought to David at Jerusalem that 
 Absalom was slain, the aged king lamented the loss of his 
 disobedient child with the most passionate sorrow; and we 
 are told that " he went up to the chamber over the gate, and 
 wept : and as he went, thus he said : ' O my son Absalom ! 
 my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for thee, 
 O Absalom ! my son, my son.' " The scene in which David 
 is supposed to have taken his last look of his erring but loved 
 son, lying cold in d'eath, and the lamentation which he there 
 uttered, have been thus described : 
 
 DAVID'S LAMENT FOR ABSALOM. 
 
 6. The palP was settled. He who slept beneath 
 Was straighten'd for the grave ; and, as the folds 
 Sunk to the still proportions, they hetray'd 
 
 The matchless symmetry'* of Absalom. 
 
 His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls 
 
 Were floating round the tassels as they sway'd 
 
 To the admitted air, as glossy now 
 
 As when, in hours of gentle dalliance,^ bathing 
 
 The snowy fingers of Judaea's daughters. 
 
 7. His helm was at his feet ; his banner, soil'd 
 With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid. 
 Reversed, beside him ; and the jewel'd hilt, 
 Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade, 
 Rested, like mockeiy, on his cover'd brow. 
 The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, 
 Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief, 
 The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, 
 And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly, 
 As if he fear'd the slumberer might stir. 
 
 8. A slow step startled him. He grasp'd his blade 
 As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 
 
 P2 
 
346 
 
 willson's fourth reader. 
 
 Fart VI. 
 
 Of David enter'd, and he gave command, 
 In a low tone, to his followers, 
 And left him with his dead. The king stood still 
 Till the last echo died ; then, throwing off 
 The sackcloth* from his brow, and laying back 
 The pall from the still features of his child, 
 He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 
 In the resistless eloquence of woe. 
 
 9. " Alas ! my noble boy I that thou shouldst die I 
 
 Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
 That death should settle in thy glorious eye. 
 
 And leave his stillness in this clustering hair I 
 How could he mark thee for the silent tomb ! 
 My proud boy, Absalom ! 
 
 10. "Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill, 
 
 As to my bosom I have tried to press thee I 
 How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill. 
 Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, 
 
Pakt VI. SKETCHES FKOM SACRED HISTORY. 847 
 
 And hear thy sweet * my father V from those dumb 
 And cold lips, Absalom 1 
 
 11. "But death is on thee. I shall hear the gush 
 
 Of music, and the voices of the young ; 
 And life will pass me in the mantling^ blush, 
 
 And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; 
 But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
 To meet me, Absalom ! 
 
 12. "And oh ! when I am stricken,® and my heart, 
 
 Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, 
 How will its love for thee, as I depart. 
 
 Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token I 
 It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
 To see thee, Absalom ! 
 
 13. "And now, farewell ! 'Tis hard to give thee up, 
 
 With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ; — 
 And thy dark sin ! — oh ! I could di-ink the cup, 
 
 If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. 
 May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
 My lost boy, Absalom!" 
 
 14. He covered up his face, and bowed himself 
 A moment on his child ; then, giving him 
 A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
 His hands convulsively, as if in prayer. 
 And, as if strength were given him of God, 
 He rose up calmly, and composed the pall 
 Firmly and decently — and left him there, 
 
 As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. N. P. Willis. 
 
 ' Pall, the cloth thrown over a dead body 
 at funerals. 
 
 2 Sym'-me-tey, beauty of form ; a due pro- 
 portion of the several parts to each other. 
 
 3 Dal'-li-ancb, acta of fondness. 
 
 * Pack'-€loth, a coarse cloth used in mourn- 
 ing. 
 
 5 Man'-tling, rising ; spreading as a blush 
 spreads over the face. 
 
 6 Steiok'-en, cast down ; far gone with age. 
 
 LESSOK YH. 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF ISRAEL. 
 1. The prosperity of the Hebrews as a nation ended with 
 the death of Solomon, the son and successor of King David. 
 When Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, came to the throne, 
 the ten northern tribes revolted, choosing Jeroboam as their 
 king ; and from this time Israel and Judah, with which latter 
 
348 willson's fourth keadee. Part VI. 
 
 was united part of the tribe of Benjamin, were separate king- 
 doms. The separation thus effected is called " The Revolt 
 ofthe Ten Tribes." 
 
 2. The subsequent princes of the kingdom of Israel, as the 
 ten tribes were called, were all idolaters in the sight of the 
 Lord, although from time to time they were warned of the 
 consequences of their idolatry by the prophets Elijali, Elisha, 
 Hosea, Amos, Jonah, and others. 
 
 3. The history of Elijah is one of exceeding interest. Flee- 
 ing before the wicked Ahab, he was miraculously fed by ra- 
 vens in his concealment ; he restored to life the son of the - 
 widow who generously gave him a share of her little store ; 
 he caused the false prophets of Baal to be put to death ; and 
 when he fled from the wicked Jezebel into the wilderness, he 
 witnessed there some wonderful manifestations of Divine 
 power ; and, finally, he was taken up alive into heaven. 
 
 4. The scene in the wilderness, when he was commanded 
 to go forth and stand upon Mount Horeb before the Lord, is 
 thus described in the Bible. " And behold, the Lord passed 
 by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and 
 brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord ; but the Lord was 
 not in the wind : and after the wind an earthquake ; but the 
 Lord was not in the earthquake : and after the earthquake a 
 fire ; but the Lord was not in the fire : and after the fire a 
 still small voice." 
 
 The poet Campbell has made the following beautiful para 
 phrase^ of this passage: 
 
 ELIJAH'S INTERVIEW WITH GOD. 
 
 5. "On Horeb's rock the prophet stood — 
 
 The Lord before him passed ; 
 A hurricane in angry mood 
 
 Swept by him strong and fast ; 
 The forest fell before its force, 
 The rocks were shiver'd in its course — 
 
 God was not in the blast : 
 Announcing danger, wreck, and death, 
 'Twas but the whirlwind of his breath. 
 
 6. "It ceased. The air grew mute — a cloud 
 
 Came, muffling up the sun ; 
 
Part VI. SKETCHES FROM SACRED HISTORY. 349 
 
 When, through the mountain, deep and loud 
 
 An earthquake thundered on ; 
 The frighted eagle s}Drang in air, 
 The wolf ran howling from his lair^ — 
 
 God was not in the storm : 
 'Twas but the rolling of his car, 
 The trampling of his steeds from far. 
 
 7. " 'Twas still again, and nature stood 
 
 And calmed her ruffled^ frame ; 
 
 When swift from heaven a fiery flood 
 To earth devouring came ; 
 
 Down to the depth the ocean fled ; 
 
 The sickening sun looked wan* and dead- 
 Yet God filled not the fiame : 
 
 'Twas but the terror of his eye 
 
 That lightened through the troubled sky. 
 
 8. "At last a voice all still and small 
 
 Rose sweetly on the ear, 
 Yet rose so shrill and clear, that all 
 
 In heaven and earth might hear : 
 It spoke of peace, it spoke of love, 
 It spoke as angels speak above — 
 
 And God himself was there ; 
 For oh ! it was a Father's voice, 
 That bade the trembling world rejoice. Campbell. 
 
 » Par'-a-purase, an explanation of somo'2 Lair, the bed or couch of a wild beast, 
 text or passage in a more clear and ample ^ T:uf'fi,ed, disturbed ; agitated, 
 manner than ia expressed in the words of,* Wan, pale; of a sickly color, 
 the author. I 
 
 LESSON yiii. 
 
 THE KINGDOM OF JUDAH. 
 
 1. The history of Judah, after the revolt of the Ten Tribes, 
 is but little more than the history of a single town, Jerusa- 
 lem ; although Bethlehem and Hebron, villages then of little 
 importance, were included in the Judsean territory. Some of 
 the kings of Judah, like those of Israel, fell into idolatry, for 
 which they and their people were punished by being deliv- 
 ered into the hands of the surrounding nations: others re- 
 stored the worship of the true God ; and of them it is record- 
 ed that " God prospered their undertakings." 
 
 2. During the reign of the wicked and idolatrous Ahaz, the 
 
350 willson's fourth reader. Paht VI 
 
 country was brought to the brink of ruin. The prophet 
 Isaiah, who lived at that time, points out the corruptions of 
 the land in strong terms. He calls the nation " a sinful peo- 
 ple laden with iniquity, a seed of evil-doers." He also says, 
 "Thy princes are rebellious, and companions of thieves." 
 The misery that overspread the land is vividly depicted:^ 
 " Your country is desolate, your cities are burned with fire ; 
 your land, strangers devour it in your presence." Once the 
 Egyptians had plundered Jerusalem ; and Ahaz paid tribute 
 to Assyria. 
 
 3. Hezekiah was as zealous in the cause of God as' his fa- 
 ther had been indifferent; he cleansed and sanctified the 
 Temple, and restored its services; and he refused to pay 
 tribute to Assyria. Then Sennacherib,^ the king of Assyria, 
 determining to be revenged upon Judah, sent a large army 
 against Jerusalem ; but we are told that " the angel of the 
 Lord went forth, and smote, in the camp of the Assyrians, a 
 hundred and fourscore and five thousand men." 
 
 4. Accounts of this miraculous overthrow of the Assyrian 
 army are found in Persian and Egyptian history, as well as 
 in the Bible. The instrument by which the Lord executed 
 vengeance upon the Assyrians is supposed by some to have 
 been the simoom^ of the desert ; for Isaiah had prophesied 
 of the King of Assyria, " Thus saith the Lord, behold, I will 
 send a blast upon him." Byron's description of the over- 
 throw of the Assyrian host is too beautiful to be omitted. 
 
 DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB— 711 B.C. 
 
 5. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, 
 And his cohorts* were gleaming in purple and gold ; 
 And the sheen* of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
 When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 
 
 G. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, 
 That host with their banners at sunset were seen ; 
 Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, 
 That host on the moiTow lay withered and strown. 
 
 7. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, 
 And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed ; 
 And the eyes of the sleeper waxed^ deadly and chill, 
 And their hearts but once heaved, and forever were still I 
 
Part VI. SKETCHES FKOM SACRED HISTORY. 351 
 
 8. And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, u_ 
 But through them there roUed not the breath of his pride, 
 And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
 
 And cold as the spray on the rock-beating surf. 
 
 9. And there lay the ijder, distorted and pale, 
 
 With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ;'' 
 And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
 The lances unlifted, the tnimpet unblown. 
 
 10. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
 And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
 
 And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword. 
 
 Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord. Byron. 
 
 » De-pi€t'-ed, described; represented inj casionally in Arabia and Syria, and the 
 words, j neighboring countries. 
 
 2 SEN-NAcn'-E-BiB (sen-nnk'-e-rib). Also * €5'-hokt, a band or body of warriors, 
 pronounced Sen-na-kfi' -Hb. [s Sheen, brightness ; splendor. 
 
 3 tsi-MOOM', a hot, dry wind, that blows oc-^ Waxed, became. 
 
 1 7 ilAiL, armor ; coat of steel net-work. 
 
 LESSON IX. 
 ADVENT OF THE MESSIAH. 
 
 1. Passing over a period of nearly seven hundred years 
 from the time of the Prophet Isaiah, the inspired writer who 
 most clearly foretells the advent^ of Christ, we come down to 
 that remarkable period in Roman history when Augustus 
 Caesar ruled over all the then civihzed world, and the heathen 
 temple of Janus, always open in time of war, was closed for 
 the third time since the foundation of Rome. It was at this 
 auspicious^ period that Jesus Christ, the promised Messiah, 
 was born at Bethlehem in Judaea, then a Roman province; 
 and thus, literally, was his advent the herald^ of " peace on 
 earth, and good-will toward men." 
 
 2. The wonderful event of the nativity* was not proclaim- 
 ed to the nations like the coming of a temporal prince, but 
 was first announced to a company of shepherds in Judaea as 
 they watched their flocks by night. The manner of the an- 
 nouncement is thus related in the second chapter of Luke : 
 
 3. "And there were in the same country shepherds abiding 
 in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, 
 lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of 
 
362 WILLSON'S FOUKTH KEADEJB. Pakt VI. 
 
 the iiOrd shone round about them ; and they were sore 
 afraid. 
 
 4. " And the angel said unto them, Fear not ; for, behold, I 
 bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all peo- 
 ple. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a 
 Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign 
 unto you: Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling- 
 clothes,^ lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with 
 the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and 
 saying, Glory be to God in the highest, and on earth peace, 
 good-will toward men." 
 
 5. The beautiful hymn beginning, 
 
 " While shepherds watched their flocks by night," 
 is descriptive of the same event; but as it is doubtless already 
 famihar to our readers, we introduce one not so generally 
 known, but scarcely less beautiful. 
 
 THE NATIVITY. 
 
 6. '"Judaea's plains in silence sleep 
 
 Beneath the cloudless midnight sky, 
 And o'er their flocks the shepherds keep 
 
 Kind watch, to David's city nigh : . 
 That royal city ! — nobler Guest 
 
 Is she a while to entertain 
 Than proudest monarch, whose behest^ 
 
 It is o'er earthly realms to reign. 
 By Him salvation is to mortals given, 
 ^ On earth is shed the peerless'' noon of heaven. 
 
 7. " For see ! along the deep blue arch 
 
 A glory breaks ; and now a throng 
 From where the sparkling planets march 
 
 Comes trooping^ down with shout and song ; 
 And o'er those pastures, bathed in light. 
 
 The sacred legions stay their wing. 
 While on the wakeful ear of night 
 
 Steals the rich hymn that seraphs sing. 
 And sweetly thus the mellow accents ran, 
 * Glory to God, Good-will and Peace to Man !' " Tappan. 
 
 Ad'-vbnt, a coming ; the coming of the s Swab'-dltng - olothes, banda -BTapped 
 
 Savior. 
 
 2 Au-8Pi"-oiotj8, favorable; fortunate. 
 
 3 Hkb'-ald, proclaimer ; announcer. 
 * Na-tTv'-i-ty, birth. 
 
 around an infant. 
 6 Bk-iikbt', authorized right ; command. 
 ■' Peer '-LESS, unequaled. 
 8 Troop'-inq, moving in a crowd. 
 
Part VI. SKETCHES FROM SACKED HISTORY. 353 
 
 LESSOlSr X. 
 
 THE MIRACLES OF THE SAVIOR. 
 
 1. Of the many miracles wrought by the Savior dm-ing 
 his ministry, as he " went about doing good," there are some 
 that especially call forth our feelings of symjDathy for the af- 
 flicted, while they at the same time direct our thoughts to 
 Christ as the Great Physician, who was sent for the healing 
 of the nations. Some of the finest poems in our language are 
 descriptive of these miracles; and nowhere can be found 
 better reading-lessons for the young than are presented in 
 extracts from them. 
 
 2. Of the Cleansing of the Leper ^ we find, in the Apostle 
 Mark,* the following brief account : 
 
 "And there came a leper to him, beseeching him, and 
 kneeling down to him, and saying unto him. If thou wilt, 
 thou canst make me clean. And Jesus, moved with compas- 
 sion, put forth his hand, and touched him, and saith unto 
 him, I will ; be thou clean. And as soon as he had spoken, 
 immediately the leprosy departed from him, and he was 
 cleansed." 
 
 3. From Willis's poem, "The Leper," we extract the fol 
 lowing : 
 
 I. THE LEPER. 
 
 It was noon ; 
 And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool 
 In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, 
 Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched 
 The loathsome water to his fevered lips, 
 Praying that he might be so bless'd — to die ! 
 Footsteps approached, and with no strength to flee, 
 He drew the covering closer on his lip. 
 Crying, "Unclean ! unclean !" and in the folds 
 Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, 
 He fell upon the earth till they should pass. 
 
 4. Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er 
 
 The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name — 
 " Helon' !" The voice was like the master-tone 
 
 ♦ Mark, i., 40-42; also Matt., viii., 2-4; and Luke, v., 12-16. 
 
354 
 
 willson's foubth reader. 
 
 Part VI. 
 
 6. 
 
 Of a rich instrument — most strangely sweet ; 
 And the dull pulses of disease awoke, 
 And for a moment beat beneath the hot 
 And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. 
 " Helon' ! arise^ !" and he forgot his curse, 
 And rose and stood before Him. 
 
 Love and awe 
 Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye 
 As he beheld the stranger. He was not 
 In costly raiment clad, nor on His brow 
 The symbol of a princely lineage wore ; 
 No followers at His back, nor in His hand 
 Buckler, or sword, or spear, yet in His mien 
 Command sat throned serene, and if He smiled, 
 A kingly condescension graced His lips. 
 The lion would have crouch'd to in his lair. 
 
 His garb was simple, and His sandals worn ; 
 His stature model'd with a perfect grace ; 
 His countenance the impress of a God, 
 Touch'd with the opening innocence of a child ; 
 His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky 
 In the serenest noon ; His hair unshorn 
 Fell to His shoulders ; and His curling beard 
 The fullness of perfected manhood bore. 
 
 He looked on Helon earnestly a while. 
 
 As if his heart were moved, and, stooping down, 
 
Part VI. SKETCHES FROM SACRED HISTORY. 855 
 
 He took a little jvater in His hand 
 
 And laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean\" 
 
 And lo ! the scales fell from him, and his blood 
 
 Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins, 
 
 And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow 
 
 The dewy softness of an infant stole- 
 
 His leprosy was cleansed ; and he fell down 
 
 Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worship'd Him. Willis. 
 
 8. The following is too beautiful to be omitted : 
 
 Alone on Jordan's plain. 
 His head all bare to sun and rain, ^ 
 
 A leper roamed Mdth garments rent, 
 And wailing voice, still crying as he went, 
 Unclean ! Unclean ! Unclean ! 
 
 9. But Jesus passed by ; 
 
 And as his blessed feet drew nigh 
 He listened, while the suppliant prayed ; 
 And kindly to that dying soul he said. 
 Be clean ! Be clean ! Be clean ! 
 
 10. By sin thus tainted sore, 
 
 I roam earth's barren desert o'erA 
 My head is bare to storms of woe, 
 My dreary voice still crying as I go. 
 Unclean ! Unclean ! Unclean ! 
 
 11. Oh, Thou! who on the Tree 
 Of Agony once died for me, 
 With pitying mercy hear my cry, 
 And kindly to my guilty soul reply, 
 
 Be clean! Be clean! Be clean! Anonymous. 
 
 II. THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 1. And it came to pass the day after, that he went into a 
 city called Nain ; and many of his disciples went with him, 
 and much people. Now when he came nigh to the gate of 
 the city, behold, there was a dead man carried out, the only 
 son of his mother, and she was a widow ; and much people 
 of the city was with her. 
 
 2. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on 
 her, and said unto her. Weep not. And he came and touch- 
 ed the bier, and they that bare him stood still. And he said, 
 
356 
 
 willson's fourth eeader. 
 
 Part VI. 
 
 Young man', I say unto thee', Arise\ . And he that was dead 
 sat up, and began to speak: and he delivered him to his 
 mother. (Luke vi., 11-15.) 
 
 The Roman sentinel stood helm'd and tall 
 Beside the gate of Nain. The busy tread 
 Of comers to the city mart^ was done, 
 For it was almost noon, and a dead heat 
 Quiver'd upon the fine and sleeping dust. 
 And the cold snake crept panting from the wall, 
 And bask'd his scaly circles in the sun. 
 Upon his spear the soldier lean'd, and kept 
 His idle watch ; and, as his drowsy dream 
 Was broken by the solitary foot 
 Of some poor mendicant,'' he raised Ms head 
 To curse him for a tributary^ Jew, 
 And slumberously dozed on. 
 
 'Twas now high noon. 
 The dull, low murmur of a funeral 
 
Part VI. 
 
 SKETCHES FROM SACKED HISTORY. 
 
 357 
 
 Went through the city — the sad sound of feet 
 Unmix'd with voices — and the sentinel 
 Shook off his slumber, and gazed earnestly 
 Up the wide streets along whose paved way 
 The silent throng crept slowly. They came on, 
 Bearing a body heavily on its bier. 
 
 There was one — 
 Only one mourner. Close behind the bier, 
 Crumpling the pall up in her wither'd hands, 
 Follow'd an aged woman. Her short steps 
 Falter'd with weakness, and a broken moan 
 Fell from her lips, thicken'd convulsively 
 As her heart bled afresh. The pitying crowd 
 Follow'd apart, but no one spoke to her. 
 She had no kinsmen,* She had lived alone — 
 A widow with one son. He was her all — 
 The only tie she had in the wide world — 
 And he was dead. They could not comfort her. 
 
 Forth from the city gate the pitying crowd 
 Follow'd the stricken mourner. They came near 
 The place of burial, and, with straining hands, 
 Closer upon her breast she clasp'd the pall, 
 And with a gasping sob, quick as a child's. 
 And an inquiring wildness flashing through 
 The thin gray lashes of her fever'd eyes. 
 She came where Jesus stood beside the way. 
 He look'd upon her, and his heart was moved. 
 
 "Weep not !" he said ; and as they stay'd the bier, 
 
 And at his bidding laid it at his feet. 
 
 He gently drew the pall from out her grasp, 
 
 And laid it back in silence from the dead. 
 
 With troubled wonder the mute throng drew near, 
 
 And gazed on his calm looks. A minute's space 
 
 He stood and pray'd. Then, taking the cold hand, 
 
 He said, '"Arise!" And instantly the breast 
 
 Heaved in its cerements,* and a sudden flush 
 
 Ran through the lines of the divided lips. 
 
 And with a murmur of his mother's name, 
 
 He trembled and sat upright in his shroud. 
 
 And, while the mourner hung upon his neck, 
 
 Jesus went calmly on his way to Nain. N. P. Willis. 
 
 1 Mart, a place for the sale of goods. 
 '^ Men'-di-€ant, a beggar. 
 i Trib'-u-ta-by, paying a tribute or tax to 
 secure protection. 
 
 * KiNs'-MEN, relations ; kindred. 
 
 * Cerk'-ments, cloths dipped in melted wax, 
 with which dead bodies are infolded when 
 embalmed. 
 
358 willson's fourth EEADER. Pabt VI. 
 
 in. THE HEALING OF THE DAUGHTER OF JAIRUS. 
 
 1. And, behold, there cometh one of the rulers of the syna- 
 gogue, Jairus by name ; and when he saw Jesus he fell at his 
 feet, and besought him greatly, saying, My little daugh'ter 
 lieth at the point of death ; I pray thee, come and lay thy 
 hands on her, that she may be healed, and she shall live. 
 
 2. And Jesus .went with him, and much people followed 
 him, and thronged him. And he cometh to the house of the 
 ruler of the synagogue, and seeth the tumult, and them that 
 wept and wailed greatly. And one said. Thy daughter is 
 dead : why troublest thou the Master any further ? But Je- 
 sus said. The damsel is not dead, but sleepeth. And they 
 laughed him to scorn. 
 
 3. But when he had put them all out, he taketh the father 
 and the mother of the damsel, and them that were with him, 
 and entereth in where the damsel was lying. And he took the 
 damsel by the hand, and said unto her. Maiden, arise. And 
 straightway she arose and walked. — Matt., ix. ; Mark, v. ; 
 Luke, viii. 
 
 4. "The same silverj' light 
 That shone upon the lone rock by the sea, 
 Slept on the ruler's lofty capitals, 
 
 As at the door he stood, and welcomed in 
 Jesus and his disciples. All was still. 
 The echoing vestibule^ gave back the slide 
 Of their loose sandals,^ and the arrowy beam 
 Of moonlight, slanting to the marble floor. 
 Lay like a spell of silence in the rooms 
 As Jairus^ led them on. With hushing steps 
 He trod the winding stair ; but ere he touch'd 
 The latchet, from within a whisper came, 
 ^Trouble the Master -not— for she is deadT 
 And his faint hand fell nerveless* at his side, 
 And his steps falter'd, and his broken voice 
 Choked in its utterance ; but a gentle hand 
 Was laid upon his arm, and in his ear 
 The Savior's voice sunk thrillingly and low, 
 ^She is not dead — but sleepethV 
 6. *' They passed in. 
 
 The spice-lamps in the alabaster urns 
 Bum'd diralv, and the white and fragrant smoke 
 
Part VI. SKETCHES FROM SACKED HISTORY. 
 
 359. 
 
 Curl'd indolently on the chamber walls. 
 The silken curtains slumber'd in their folds — 
 Not even a tassel stirring in the air ; 
 And as the Savior stood beside the bed, 
 And pray'd inaudibly, * the ruler heard 
 The quickening division of his breath 
 As he grei^ earnest inwardly. There came 
 A gradual brightness o'er his calm, sad face ; 
 And, drawing nearer to the bed, he moved 
 The silken curtains silently apart. 
 And look'd upon the maiden. 
 
 "Like a form 
 Of matchless sculpture in her sleep she lay — 
 The linen vesture^ folded on her breast, 
 And over it her white transparent hands. 
 The blood still rosy in their tapering nails. 
 A line of pearl ran through her parted lips. 
 And in her nostrils, spiritually thin. 
 The breathing curve was mockingly like life ; 
 And round beneath the faintly-tinted skin 
 Ran the light branches of the azure veins ; 
 And on her cheek the jet^ lash overlay, 
 Matching the arches pencil'd on her brow. 
 Her hair had been unbound, and falling loose 
 Upon her pillow, hid her small round ears 
 In curls of glossy blackness, and about 
 Her polish'd neck, scarce touching it, they hung. 
 Like airy shadows floating as they slept. 
 
360 WILLSON's fourth KEADEE. Pakt VI. 
 
 7. 'Twas heavenly beautiful. The Savior raised 
 
 Her hand fi'om off her bosom, and spread t .t 
 The sno^vy fingers in his palm, and said, 
 ^Maiden'! Arise\'^ and suddenly a flush 
 Shot o'er her forehead, and along her lips 
 And through her cheek the rallied color ran ; 
 And the still outline of her graceful form 
 Stirr'd in the linen vesture ; and she clasp'd 
 The Savior's hand, and fixing her dark eyes 
 Full on his beaming countenance — arose.'" 
 
 N. P. Willis. 
 
 1 Ves'-ti-bule, the porch or entrance into aj* Neeve'-less, destitute of strength. 
 
 house; also an inner court which leads 
 into a suite of rooms. 
 
 2 San'-dal, the ancient form of shoe, con- 
 sisting of a sole fastened to the foot. 
 
 3 Ja'-i-eC8, a Roman ruler in Judaea. 
 
 In-atjd'-i-hly, in a manner not to 
 
 heard. 
 6 Ve8t'-Cee, garment ; covering. 
 ' Jet, of the deepest black. 
 
 LESSON XL 
 
 THE CRUCHFIXION. 
 
 1. Akd when they were come to the place which is called 
 Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors, one on 
 the right hand and one on the left. Th^ said Jesus, Father, 
 forgive them, for they know not what tffiy do. 
 
 2. "Tliis was the earth's consummate hour; 
 
 For this hath blazed the prophet's power ; 
 For this hath swept the conqueror's sword ; 
 Hath ravaged, raised, cast down, restored : 
 Persepolis, Rome, Babylon ! 
 For this ye sank, for this ye shone ! 
 
 3. " Yet things to which earth's brightest beam 
 
 Were darkness— earth itself a dream ; — 
 Foreheads on which shall crowns be laid 
 Sublime, when sun and star shall fade ; — 
 Worlds upon worlds, eternal things. 
 Hung on thy anguish. King of Kings ! 
 
 4. *' Still from his lip no curse has come ; 
 
 His lofty eye has look'd no doom ; 
 
 No earthquake burst, no angel brand 
 
 Crushes the black, blaspheming band : 
 
 What say those lips, by anguish riven ? 
 
 ' God, be my murderers forgiven !' " Crolt. 
 

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