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 THE ILLUSTRATED PROGRESSIVE SERIES. 
 
 THE 
 
 FIFTH PROGRESSIVE READER. 
 
 UABlSFULIiT 
 
 AUBANGED FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS 
 
 NEW YORiv . 
 
 P O'SHEA, PUBLISHEB 
 37 BARCLAY STREET. 
 
 t:^/^?a:, 
 
4* 
 
 EDUCATION DEPTi- 
 
 according to Ao^. of Congress, In the year 187!?. 
 Bt p. O'SHEA, 
 Ld the Office of the Librar-ian of Oongioss, at WaHhintrtozL 
 
 47/ '^ 1'^ 
 
 Kjjl^J^ 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The Fifth Pbogressive Eeader may be appro- 
 priately styled an Historical Reader. Scarcely a, lesson 
 in the book but possesses historical interest and value , 
 not even excepting the poetical selections, many of 
 •which are admirably adapted for declamation. Every 
 lesson in the book bears the stamp of excellence. They 
 have been selected from authors of the highest merit, 
 and, for the special purpose of reading lessons, com- 
 bine every quality that can be desired. The style is 
 pure and attractive, the subjects are interesting and in- 
 structive. 
 
 Among the authors from whom new selections have 
 been made, are, Darras, Lingard, Sister Mary Francis 
 Clare, Lacordaire, Archbishop Spalding, Longfellow 
 Miles, Prescott, Bancroft, and others of distinguished 
 ability and reputation. 
 
 The want of a Reader for the higher classes, of t' 
 
 ^^40589 
 
Iv ^ • PREFACE. 
 
 plan and scope of this, has long been felt. We have 
 had a surfeit of reading matter either too dry and un- 
 interesting, or too empty and declamatory, neither fit- 
 ted to impart useful information ,nor a taste for a sim- 
 ple, pure, and elegant style of composition. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 • PAGE. 
 
 Piefaco 3 
 
 Vowel So'.J!uds > 11 
 
 Vocal Co'i';onf*nts 12 
 
 PvlINCIPLS.S OF ELOCUTION 13 
 
 The Infljctions of the Voice 34 
 
 . Harmor.) 3 Inflection 46 
 
 Echo 48 
 
 The Monotone 49 
 
 Circumflexes 49 
 
 CUmax 50 
 
 Accent 50 
 
 Emphasis 52 
 
 Single Emphasis 52 
 
 Double Emphasis 53 
 
 Treble Emphasis 53 
 
 The Antecedent 54 
 
 General Emphasis c 54 
 
 The Intermediate, or Elliptical Member 55 
 
 Rhetorical Pauses 55 
 
 ** lES EOR BEADING VERSE 60 
 
 9n the Slides or Inflections of Verse 60 
 
 T)n the Accent and Emphasis of Verse 62 
 
 How the Vowels e and o are to be pronounced, when apostro- 
 phized i 63 
 
 On the Pause of Caesura of Verse 63 
 
 On the Cadence of Verse : - 64 
 
 How to pronounce a Simile in Poetry 65 
 
 General Rules 65 
 
 On Scanning 66 
 
n CONTENTS. 
 
 EEADING LESSONS. 
 
 PEOSE. 
 
 I-ESSON. PiGE. 
 
 1. Pope St. Leo the Great and Attila Darras, 6S 
 
 3. Alfred the Great Cottier, 77 
 
 4. The Story of King Alfred and Saint Cuthbert Freeman, 82 
 
 7. The Church Macavlay, 91 
 
 8. The Same— Cbntinued 93 
 
 10. The Discontented Pendulum Jane Taylor, 98 
 
 12. Eip Van Winkle Irviji^}, 10b 
 
 14. True Fraternity Produced only by Catholic Faith or Teaching, 
 
 ^Mcordaire, 116 
 
 15. Control of the Temper Henry Giles, 123 
 
 17. Description of Virginia Bancroft, 127 
 
 18. The Discovery of the Hudson Eiver Irving, 129 
 
 19. Last Voyage of Henry Hudson Anon, 135 
 
 22. The Discovery of the Mississippi Eiver Bancroft, 141 
 
 25. Execution of Mary Queen of Scots Lingard, 151 
 
 27. Joan of Arc Lingard, 159 
 
 28. The S&me— Continued 163 
 
 31. A Description of the Banishment of the Acadians from their 
 
 Eural Homes in Nova Scotia Bancroft, 170 
 
 43. Settlement of Maryland Gafuliame, 2G5 
 
 45. Maryland W. G. Reed, 274 
 
 47. Mountains William Howit, 2S0 
 
 48. Ireland C. E. Lester, 282 
 
 53. The Taking of Babylon by Cyrus E&rodotus, 301 
 
 54. The ^d^me— Continued 305 
 
 56. Memory and Hope Paulding, 313 
 
 58. The Truce of God Fredet, 321 
 
 61. Our Saviour Lacordaire, b26 
 
 63. Death of St Thomas k Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, 
 
 Lingard, 333 
 65. The First Crusade MicheleL 346 
 
CONTENTS. Vii 
 
 6G. Peter the Hermit Mii^haud, 351 
 
 70. St Peter's JBustaoe, 359 
 
 72. The Pyramids Clarke, 367 
 
 74. Catholic Missions in the Northwest Bancroft, 373 
 
 75. The Same—Cordinued 378 
 
 78. First Landing of Columbus Irving, 386 
 
 79. The S&me— Continued. . .^ 390 
 
 80. The Death of Montezuma Robertson, 395 
 
 81. The Discovery of Peru Prescott, 399 
 
 82. The Same— Continued 402 
 
 83. *• ♦• •* 407 
 
 85. Character and Burial of De Soto Irving, 416 
 
 m. The EngUsh Invaders M. F. Ousack, 428 
 
 90. The Cruelty of Cromwell in Ireland '» 434 
 
 92. Si Bernard Montalembert, 443 
 
 93. The Liberty of the Gospel Lacordaire, 446 
 
 94. The S&me— Continued 449 
 
 POETEY. 
 
 LESSON. 
 
 2. The Tyrant and the Captive Adelaide A rrodor, 74 
 
 5. The Ivory Crucifix G. H. Miles, 86 
 
 6. The ^dimQ— Continued 89 
 
 9. On Conversation C&ijoptr, 95 
 
 11. The Old Clock on the Stairs Longfdlow, 103 
 
 13. To a Waterfowl Bryant, 115 
 
 16 Eesignation Lorujfzllow, 125 
 
 20. What is Glory , MoihtrweU, 138 
 
 21. The Spanish Conquests in America Montgcmery, 140 
 
 23. Prospects of Arts and Learning in America Berkeley, 148 
 
 24. Press On Benjamin, 149 
 
 26. Mary Stewart and H3r Mourner Bdwer, 155 
 
 29. Work and Rest Anon, 167 
 
 yO BHght and Bloom Gec-rge E Miles. 168 
 
VUl 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 32. 
 33. 
 34. 
 35. 
 36. 
 37. 
 38, 
 S9. 
 
 xO. 
 
 41. 
 42. 
 44. 
 46. 
 
 49. 
 50. 
 51. 
 52. 
 55. 
 '>7. 
 69. 
 60. 
 62. 
 64. 
 67. 
 68. 
 69. 
 71. 
 73. 
 76. 
 67. 
 84. 
 88. 
 93. 
 
 Evangeline LongfeUow, 
 
 Evangeline — Coviinued 
 
 The Good Old Times Neale, 
 
 The Female Martyr Whltlier, 
 
 The Deserted Village Ooldsmith, 
 
 The Deserted Village — Oontinued 
 
 Vision of Belshazzer Byron, 
 
 Christmas Lord John Manners, 
 
 The Flight of Xerxes Jewshury, 
 
 The American Patriot's Song Anonymous, 
 
 The Birth of Our Saviour Bommet, 
 
 Monk Fehx Longfellow, 
 
 The Battle of Hohenlinden, 1800 Thomas Campbell, 
 
 Song of the Greeks, 1822 *' 
 
 Full of Warsaw " ♦* 
 
 St. Peter's Church at Kome Byron, 
 
 The Forest Bryatyt, 
 
 The Heroes of Seventy-Six '• 
 
 The Mutiny— Sight of Land, etc Eogers. 
 
 The Angel of Buena Vista Whittier, 
 
 The O'Kavanagh J. Augustus Shea, 
 
 The Song of the Cossuck liev. FVancla Mahony, 
 
 174 
 
 175 
 
 184 
 
 19 
 
 201 
 
 21] 
 
 221 
 
 226 
 
 237 
 
 245 
 
 255 
 
 270 
 
 279 
 
 284 
 
 290 
 
 292 
 
 296 
 
 310 
 
 319 
 
 323 
 
 325 
 
 331 
 
 341 
 
 353 
 
 355 
 
 357 
 
 3fU 
 
 370 
 
 382 
 
 383 
 
 411 
 
 426 
 
 44() 
 
11 
 
 TABLE OF VOWEL SOUNDS. 
 
 This table is designed for an exercise upon the vowel elements. Thesa 
 should be pronounced alone as well as in combination with the words 
 given as examples. Let the class first pronounce the table in order, thus : 
 
 A long, Fate, a ; A short, Fat, a, &c. ; then pronounce the column of ele- 
 ments alone. 
 
 Name. 
 
 Example. 
 
 Element. 
 
 Name. Example. E 
 
 LEMENt 
 
 A long 
 A short 
 
 J^ate 
 Fat 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 Ions: and ) ^^ 
 close r*^-" 
 
 6 
 
 Italian 
 
 Far 
 
 a 
 
 U long Tube 
 
 u 
 
 A broad 
 
 Fall 
 
 a 
 
 TJ short .Tilb 
 
 ii 
 
 E long 
 
 Mete 
 
 
 
 U middle or ) _ 
 obtuse P«^" 
 
 A 
 
 E short 
 
 Met 
 
 e 
 
 I long 
 I short 
 
 Pine 
 Pin - 
 
 I 
 1 
 
 U short and ) 
 obtuse S ^^^ 
 
 a 
 
 O long 
 
 Note 
 
 6 
 
 01 and OY Boil 
 
 ot 
 
 short 
 
 'Not 
 
 
 JLQUIYJ 
 
 OUaudOW Botlnd 
 
 ILENTS. - 
 
 oA 
 
 r, J short and obtuse, I „ -^ 
 ■Ei \ like u in Ffir \ ^^^"^ 
 
 ' 
 
 U like in Move PwSle 
 
 
 I like E long 
 
 Machine i 
 
 Y like I long Typo 
 
 f 
 
 T j short anrt obtuse, ) .- 
 i- 1 like tl in Fill- T^"^ 
 
 like A broad N6r 
 
 i 
 6 
 
 Y like I short Symbol 
 
 -^ j short and obtuse, K^ «,..,„ 
 1 i liketiinFUr ^^y'^le 
 
 f 
 
 y 
 
 like U short 
 
 Son 
 
 6 
 
 E W like U long Ne^ 
 
 els' 
 
 TABLE OF CONSONANT SOUNDS. 
 
 This table should be treated by the class in the same «nanner a3 the 
 table of vowel sounds. The sound of a consonant may be ascertained by 
 pronouncing a word containing it in a slow and forcible manner. 
 
 Vocal Consonants are those uttered with a slight degree of vocality, 
 but loss than that of a vowel. They are formed with a vibration of iho 
 vocal chords. 
 
 Aspirate Consonants are those in which the pure breath alone ia 
 heard. They arc formed without any vibration of the vocal chords. 
 
12 
 
 VOCAL CONSONANTS.' 
 
 YfiMM. 
 
 EZAHPLB. 
 
 Eleubkt. 
 
 Namr. 
 
 Example, fe 
 
 LKMSTf) 
 
 B 
 
 Babe 
 
 b 
 
 R 
 
 (trilled) 
 
 Rap 
 
 r 
 
 D 
 
 Did 
 
 d 
 
 R 
 
 (untrilled) 
 
 Nor 
 
 r 
 
 G hard 
 
 Gag 
 
 g 
 
 TH soft 
 
 Thine 
 
 tli 
 
 J 
 
 Joy 
 
 j 
 
 V 
 
 
 Valve 
 
 V 
 
 L 
 
 Lull • 
 
 1 
 
 W 
 
 
 Wine 
 
 w 
 
 M 
 
 Maim 
 
 ra 
 
 Y 
 
 
 Yes 
 
 y 
 
 N 
 
 Nun 
 
 n 
 
 Z 
 
 
 Zeal 
 
 2 
 
 NG 
 
 Sing 
 
 ng 
 
 ZH 
 
 (orZ) 
 
 Azure 
 
 zh 
 
 ASPIRATE CONSONANTS. 
 
 CH 
 
 Church 
 
 ch 
 
 T 
 
 Tent 
 
 t 
 
 F 
 
 Fife 
 
 f 
 
 S 
 
 Seal 
 
 s 
 
 H* 
 
 Hold 
 
 h 
 
 SH 
 
 Shine 
 
 Bh 
 
 K 
 
 Kirk 
 
 k 
 
 TH sharp 
 
 Thin 
 
 th 
 
 P 
 
 Pipe 
 
 P 
 
 
 
 
 EQUIVALENTS. 
 
 C soft, like 8 
 
 ^ease 
 
 9 
 
 S soft, like z 
 
 Muse 
 
 ? 
 
 C hard, like k 
 
 Cake 
 
 c 
 
 S like zh 
 
 Vision 
 
 8 
 
 Ch hard, like k 
 
 Chasm 
 
 ch 
 
 Q like k 
 
 Coquette 
 
 q 
 
 Ch soft, like sh 
 
 ^haise 
 
 9h 
 
 X like ks 
 
 Tax 
 
 X 
 
 G soft, like j 
 
 Giant 
 
 g 
 
 X like gz 
 
 Exalt 
 
 J 
 
 Ph like f 
 
 Seraph 
 
 ph 
 
 
 
 
 Q has the sound of k, and is always followed bj u, \f'hich, in this posi- 
 tion, commonly has the sound of w, but is sometimes silent. 
 WH is an aspirated w, pronounced as if written hio. 
 
 ' Sometimes called Subvocals, or Snbtonics. 
 
 ' H 8onnded before a vowel, is an expulsion of the breath after the organs are m a 
 position to eonnd the vowel. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Elocution is an important branch of oratory; so 
 important, that eloquence borrows its name from it. 
 The theory consists of certain rules, which should be 
 observed by all who read or speak in private companies 
 or public assemblies. In practice elocution consists m 
 the art of reading, or speaking, with propriety and 
 elegance; or of delivering our words in a just and 
 graceful manner; untainted with pedantry or affec- 
 tation, and uncorrupted with any provincial sound or 
 dialect. 
 
 It is absolutely necessary that every young gentleman 
 should be acquainted with the science of elocution, 
 especially those who are intended for the pulpit, the 
 senate, the bar, or the stage ; so that very few persona 
 need be told, that a graceful elocution is of the highes'. 
 importance. Everybody will allow, that what a man 
 has occasion daily to do, should be done well ; yet so 
 little attention has sometimes been paid to this accom- 
 plishment, even from those, in whO!ai (from their pro 
 fessions as public speakers) we have been led to expect 
 p perfect model of the art, that it has tended to eclipse 
 
14 ... ..PMNGIPLBS'rOF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Sll tlieiT ofher meri£s, however great ; while others, of 
 inferior attainments, by the help of a tolerably good 
 style, and a just elocution, have risen to considerable 
 eminence. 
 
 A graceful elocution is, to a good style, what a good 
 style is to the subject matter of a discourse, an efifectuaj 
 ornament : for, if the subject of a discourse be ever so 
 intrferesting, and the speaker's knowledge ever so pro- 
 found, without a correct style the discourse must suiOTer 
 greatly in its reputation; and though the speaker's 
 abilities be of the first eminence, and the style good, 
 with a bad elocution, or delivery, it will fare little 
 better: — so great an effect have these exterior accom- 
 plishments over the public taste. Indeed, the great 
 design and end of a good pronunciation is, to make th^ 
 ideas seem to come from the heart ; and then they will 
 not fail to excite the attention and affections of those 
 who hear us read or speak. 
 
 The principal design which we have in view is to show : 
 
 First. What a bad pronunciation is, and how to 
 avoid it. 
 
 Secondly. What a good pronunciation is, and how to 
 attaiyi it. 
 
 In the first place, it may be necessftry to mention, 
 that a chief fault of pronunciation is, when the voice i» 
 too loud. This is very disagreeable to the hearer, and 
 inconvenient to the speaker. It will be disagreeable to 
 the hearers, if they be persons of good taste ; who will 
 look upon it to be^he effect of ignorance or affectation. 
 Besides, an overstrained voice is very inconvenient to 
 the speaker, as well as disgustful to judicious hearers 
 
PKINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 15 
 
 ft ejfliausts liis spirits tc no purpose, and takes from 
 him the proper management and modulation of his voico 
 according to the sense of his subject ; and, what is 
 worst of all, it leads him into what is called a tone. 
 Every person's voice should fill the place where lie 
 speaks ; but, if it exceed its natural key, it will be nei- 
 ther sweet, nor soft, nor agreeable, because he will not 
 be able to give every word its proper sound. 
 
 Another fault in pronunciation is, when the voice is too 
 low. This is not so inconvenient to the speaker, but it 
 is as disagreeable to the hearer, as the other extreme. 
 It is offensive to an audience, to observe anything in the 
 reader or speaker that looks like indolence or inatten- 
 tion. The hearer can never be affected while he per- 
 ceives the speaker indifferent. The art of governing 
 the voice consists chiefxy in avoiding these two extremes ; 
 and, for a general rule to direct us herein, the following 
 is a very good one : '^ Be careful to preserve the key of 
 your voice ; and, at the same time, to adapt the eleva- 
 tion and strength of it to the condition and number of 
 the persons you speak to, and the nature of the place 
 you speak in." It would be altogether as ridiculous in 
 a general, who is haranguing an army, to speak in a 
 low and languid voi , as in a person, who reads a 
 chapter in a family circle, or the narrative of any par- 
 ticular historical occurrence, to speak in a loud and 
 eager one. 
 
 A^ioiher fault in pronunciation is, a thicJc, hasty, chat 
 terimj voice. When a person mumbles, that is, leaves 
 out some syllables in the' long words, and never pro- 
 lounces some of the short ones at all : but hurries 3n 
 
16 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 witliout any regard whether he be heard distinctly of 
 not, or whether he give his words their full utterance, 
 or whether his hearers are impressed with the full sense 
 and meaning of them. This, however, is frequently 
 owing to defect in the organs of speech, or a too great 
 tremulation or flutter of the animal spirits ; but oftener 
 to a bad habit which he has not attempted to correct. 
 Demosthenes, the greatest orator Greece ever produced, 
 had, it is said, three natural impediments in pronuncia- 
 tion, all of which he conquered by invincible labor and 
 perseverance. One was a weakness of voice ; which he 
 cured by frequently declaiming on the sea-shore, amidst 
 the noise of the waves. Another was a shortness of 
 breath ; which he mended by repeating his orations aa 
 he walked up a hill. And the other was the fault we 
 are speaking of; a thick mumbling way of speaking; 
 which he broke himself of by declaiming with pebbles 
 in his mouth. 
 
 Another fault in pronunciation is, when persons speaJi 
 too quickly. This method of reading is well enough 
 among lawyers, in examining leases, perusing inden- 
 tures, or reciting acts of Congress, where there is 
 always a superfluity of words ; or in reading a news- 
 paper, where there is but little matter that deser res our 
 attention ; but it is very improper in reading books of 
 devotion and instruction, and especially the sacred 
 Scriptures, where- the solemnity of the subject, or the 
 weight of the sense, demands a particular regard. The 
 great disadvantage which attends this manner of pro- 
 nunciation is, that the hearer loses the benefit of half 
 the good things he hears, and would fain remember, bui 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 17 
 
 cannot : and a speaker should always have a regard to 
 the memory as well as to the understanding of his 
 hearers. 
 
 As it is a fault to speak too quickly, so it is likewise 
 a blemish in elocution to apeak too slowly. Some persons 
 are apt to read or speak in a heavy, droning, sleepy 
 way ; and, through mere carelessness, make pauses at 
 improper places. This is very disagreeable : but to 
 hem, sneeze, yawn, or cough, between the periods, is 
 much more so. A too slow elocution is most faulty in 
 reading trifles, subjects that do not require much atten 
 tion. It then renders every sentence tedious. A too 
 slow elocution, however, is a fault rarely to be found, 
 unless in aged people, and those who naturally speal* 
 s€> in common conversation : but in these, if the pro- 
 nunciation be in other respects just, decent, and proper, 
 and especially if the subject be weighty or intricate, it 
 is more excusable, and is* frequently overlooked. 
 
 An irregular or uneven voice is a great fault in reading 
 or speaking. This happens, when the voice rises and 
 falls by fits or starts, as it is generally termed ; that is, 
 when it is elevated or depressed unnaturally or unsea- 
 Bonably, without regard to the sense of the passage and 
 the meaning of the author, or to the points or stops in 
 a just method of punctuation ; or in always beginning 
 a sentence with a high voice, and, on the contrary, 
 concluding it with a low one, or always beginning and 
 concluding it in the same key. 
 
 Another fault, which may be looked upon as the 
 direct opposite to this, is a flat, dull, uniform tone of 
 voice; without emphasis cr cadence, or even regard to th« 
 
18 PKINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 seJise or snhjeot of what is read or spoken. This is a habit 
 which children, who have been used to read their lessons 
 by way of task, are very apt to fall into, and retain as 
 they grow up. Indeed, it is a great blemish when it 
 becomes habitual ; because it deprives the hearer of the 
 greater part of the benefit he might otherwise receive 
 by a close attention to the interesting parts of the sub- 
 ject, which should always be distinguished by the pro- 
 nunciation : for a just pronunciation is a good com- 
 mentary; and therefore no person ought to read a 
 chapter of the Bible or a Psalm, in public, or a speech 
 in a play, or a poetical extract, before he has carefully 
 read it over himself once or twice in private. 
 
 The greatest and most common fault is that of reading 
 or speaking with what is called a tone. There is not any 
 habit more easy to be contracted than this, nor more 
 difficult to be conquered. This unnatural tone in read- 
 ing and speaking is very various ; but, whatever it be, 
 it is always disgustful to persons of delicacy and judg- 
 ment. Some have a womanish squeaking tone ; which 
 persons whose voices are shrill and weak, and over- 
 strained, are very liable to fall into. Some have a 
 singing or canting note : others assume a high, swelling, 
 theatrical tone ; and, being ambitious of the fame of 
 fine orators, lay too much stress or emphasis on every 
 sentence, and thereby transgress the rules of true 
 oratory. Some afiect an awful and striking tone, 
 attended with solemn grimace, as if they would move 
 the hearer with every word they utter, whether tho 
 weight of the subject bear them out in that method or 
 not. This is what persons of a gloomy or melancholy 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 1& 
 
 V 
 
 cast of riind are most likely to fall Into. Some have a 
 set, unifcrm tone of voice, and others an odd, whimsical, 
 whining tone, peculiar to themselves, and which cannot 
 be well described ; only, that it is an improper laying 
 of the emphasis on words which do not require or de 
 serve it. 
 
 Such are the common faults of a bad pronunciation. 
 
 We now proceed, in the second place, to point out 
 how a bad pronunciation is to be avoided. And to this 
 end, it will be exceedingly proper that a person should 
 not read in too loud nor in too low a voice. If a person 
 would not read in a voice which is too loud or strong, 
 nor in one that is too low, or faint, or weak, he should 
 consider whether his voice be naturally too low or too 
 loud, and endeavor to correct it accordingly in his daily 
 ordinary conversation ; by which means he will be better 
 able to correct it in reading. If his voice be too low, 
 he should converse with those who are hard of hearing ; 
 if too loud, with those whose voices are low. He 
 skould begin his periods with an even moderate voice, 
 that he may have such a command of it, as to be able 
 to raise or depress it as the subject requires. 
 
 In order to cure a thick, confused, cluttering voice, a 
 person should accustom himself, in conversation, read- 
 ing, and speaking, to pronounce every word distinctly 
 and clearly. He ought to observe with what delibera- 
 tion some persons converse and read, and how full a 
 sound they give to every word; and closely imitate 
 them. He should never affect to contract his words, as 
 some have done, or run two into one. This may do 
 very well in conversation, or in reading familiar dia- 
 
50 PRINCIPLBS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 logues, but it is not so decent nor so decorous in grave 
 and solemn subjects ; especially in reading the Scrip- 
 tures, sermons, or extracts from religious books. It 
 appears, from the case of Demosthenes, that this fault 
 of pronunciation cannot be cured without much difficulty, 
 nor will the remedy which he adopted be found effectual 
 without a considerable share of perseverance. 
 
 To break a habit of reading or speaking too fast, a 
 person must attend diligently to the sense, weight, and 
 propriety of every sentence he has occasion to read, and 
 of every emphatical word contained therein. This will 
 not only operate as an advantage to himself, but be a 
 double one to those who hear him ; for it will at once 
 give them time to do the same, and excite their atten- 
 tion when they perceive the speaker's is fixed. A 
 Bolemn pause after a weighty thought is not only beau- 
 tiful but striking. A well-timed cessation or pause gives 
 as much grace to speech as it does to music. Let a 
 person imagine that he is reading to persons of slow and 
 unready conceptions; but he must not measure the 
 hearer's apprehension by his own. If he does, he may 
 possibly outrun it. And, as in reading he is not at 
 liberty to repeat his words and sentences, that should 
 engage him to be very deliberate in pronouncing them, 
 that their sense may not be misconceived or lost. The 
 ease and advantage that will arise both to the reader 
 and hearer, by a free, full, and deliberate pronunciation, 
 is hardly to be conceived. A too slow pronunciation is 
 a fault which very few are likely to fall into. 
 
 To ewe an uneven, desultory voice, a person should 
 take care that he does not begin his periods either in too 
 
PRINCIPLES OP ELOCUTION, 21 
 
 high or in too low a Tcey ; for that will necessarily lead 
 him to an unnatural and improper variation of it. He 
 should have particular legard to the nature and quan- 
 tity of his points, and the length of his periods'; and 
 keep his mind intent on the sense, subject, and spirit 
 of his author. 
 
 It is very requisite that similar directions should be 
 given to every young gentleman destined to read or 
 speak in public, that he may constantly avoid a mono- 
 tony in pronunciation ; that is, a dull, set, uniform tone 
 of voice : and, if the mind of the student be attentive 
 to the sense of the subject iTefore him, he will naturally 
 manage and modulate his voice agreeably to the nature 
 and importance of the subject. 
 
 In order to avoid all kinds of unnatural and disagree- 
 able tones, he must endeavor to speak with the same ease 
 and freedom as he would do, on the same subject, in pri- 
 vate conversation. You do not hear any person converse 
 in a tone, unless he has the accent of some other 
 country, or has contracted a habit of altering the natural 
 key of his voice when he is talking of some serious 
 subject, of religion particularly. But I do not see any 
 particular reason why, in common conversation, we 
 speak in a natural voice, with proper accent and em- 
 phasis ; yet, so soon as we begin to read or talk of reli- 
 gion, or speak in public, we should immediately assume 
 a stiff, awkward, unnatural tone. If we are indeed 
 deeply affected with the subject we read or talk of, the 
 voice will naturally vary according to the passion ex- 
 cited; but if we vary it unnaturally, only to seem 
 affected, or with a desicjn to affect others, it then be- 
 
22 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 comes a tone, and is offensive. In reading, then, a 
 person should attend to his subject, and deliver it as he 
 would do if he were talking of it. This is the great, 
 general, and most important rule of all ; which, if care- 
 fully observed, will correct not only these but almost all 
 other faults in a bad pronunciation ; and give an easy, 
 decent, and graceful delivery, agreeably to all the rules 
 of a right elocution. For, however apt we are to trans- 
 gress them in reading, we follow them naturally and 
 easily in conversation : even children will tell a story 
 with all the natural graces and beauties of pronuncia- 
 tion, however .awkwardly tliey may read the same from 
 a book. Dr. Watts, in his "Art of Beading," says: 
 "Let the tone and sound of your voice in reading 
 he the same as it is in sjpeaking^ and do not affect 
 to change that natural and easy sound wherewith 
 you speak .^ for a strange, new, awkward tone, as some 
 do when they begin to read; which would almost per- 
 suade our ears, that the speaker and the reader were 
 two different persons, if our eyes did not tell us the 
 contraiy." 
 
 It is necessary that we now pay attention to the 
 iecond principal head of our subject, and that is, wliai 
 a good 'pronunciation is, and how to attain it. 
 
 In this branch of elocution there are several things to 
 be adverted to ; and, first, we must observe, that a good 
 pronunciation in reading or speaking, is the art of 
 managing and governing the voice so as to express the 
 full sense and spirit of the author, in that just, decent, 
 and graceful manner, which will not only instruct but 
 affect the minds of the hearers ; and which will not only 
 
PRINCIPLES OB ELOCUTION. 2!5 
 
 raise in them the same ideas the speaker intended to 
 convey, but the same passions he really felt. This is 
 the great end of speaking or reading before others, and 
 this end can only be attained by a proper and just 
 method of pronunciation. 
 
 And hence we may learn wherein a good pronun- 
 ciation in speaking consists ; which is not anything but 
 a natural, easy, and graceful variation of the voice, 
 Buitable to the nature and importance of the sentiments 
 we deliver. 
 
 A good pronunciation, in both these respects, is more 
 easily attained by some persons than by others ; because 
 some can more readily enter into the sense and senti- 
 ments of an author, and more easily discover their own, 
 than others can ; and at the same time have a more 
 happy facility of expressing all the proper variations 
 and modulations of the voice. Thus, persons of a quick 
 apprehension and brisk flow of animal spirits (setting 
 aside all impediments of the organs) have generally a 
 more lively, just, and natural elocution, than persons of 
 a slow perception and a phlegmatic cast. However, it 
 may in a great degree be attained by every one that 
 will carefully attend to, and practice, those rules that 
 are conducive to the acquisition. 
 
 In a just elocution, a particular regard should be paid 
 to the PAUSES, the emphasis, and the cadence. 
 
 With respect to the pauses necessary to be observed 
 in reading, a person will, in a good measure, be directed 
 by the points ; but not perfectly, for there are but few 
 books that are correctly pointed, according to the true 
 principles of grammar and reason. 
 
24 PRINCIPLES OP HLOCUTIOA. 
 
 The points serve two purposes, viz., first, to distinguish 
 the sense of the author; and, secondly, to direct the 
 pronunciation of the reader. 
 
 A speaker or reader is not to draw or fetch breath, as 
 it is termed, if it can be avoided, till he arrives at the 
 period or full stop ; but a discernible pause is to be made 
 at every one, according to its proper quantity of Jura- 
 tion. Where the periods are very long, the speakei may 
 take breath at a colon or semicolon, and sometimei even 
 at a comma, but never where there is no point at all. 
 To break a habit of taking breath too often, in reading 
 or speaking, a person should accustom himself to read 
 long periods, such, for instance, as the first sixteen lines 
 of Milton's "Paradise Lost." 
 
 Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit 
 Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 
 Brought death into the world and all our woe, 
 With loss of Eden, till one greater man 
 Restore us and regain the blissful seat, 
 Sing, heav'nly muse, that, on the secret top 
 Of Oreb or of Sinai, didst inspire 
 That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed 
 In the beginning, how the heav'ns and earth 
 Rose out of chaos : or, if Sion hill 
 Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flow'd 
 Fast by the oracle of God, T thence 
 Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous song, 
 That, with no middle flight, intends to soar 
 Above th' Aonian mount, while it pursues 
 Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. 
 
 It is frequently necessary to regulate the pauses 
 well as the variations of the voice, by a careful attention 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 2ft 
 
 to the gense and the importance of the subject, rather 
 than to the punctuation. 
 
 The emphasis is another peculiar branch of a just 
 elocution, and is to be particularly regarded in reading 
 or speaking. With respect to this portion of our subject, 
 it is necessary that a person should be exceedingly 
 careful that it be always laid on the proper emphatical 
 word. When we distinguish any particular syllable in 
 a word with a strong voice, it is called accent; when we 
 thus distinguish any particular word in a sentence, it is 
 denominated emphasis, and the word so distinguished is 
 the emphatical word. And the emphatical words (for 
 there are often more than one) in a sentence, are those 
 which carry a weight or importance in themselves, or 
 are those on which the sense of the rest depends ; and 
 these must always be distinguished by a fuller and 
 stronger sound of voice, wherever they be found, whether 
 in the beginning, the middle, or the end of a sentence , 
 as in the following couplets : 
 
 " Get place and wealth, if possible, with grcKx ; 
 If not, by any means get wealth and place." Pope. 
 
 " Some have at first for wits, then poets, pass'd, 
 Turn'd critics next, and prov'd plain fools at last." Ibid, 
 
 In these quotations, the emphatical words are put lo 
 italics; and which they are, the sense will generally 
 discover. 
 
 It is necessary to be somewhat more particular on the 
 subject of emphasis ; and here I shall make a few brief 
 remarks on matters of this nature. 
 
So PfilNCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 1. That some sentences are so full and comprehensive, 
 that almost every word is emphatical ; and it is of the 
 greatest consequence to mark the emphatical word hy a 
 different and strong modulation of the voice : as in the 
 following instance of pathetic expostulation, in the 
 prophecy of Ezekiel : 
 
 "Why will ye die?" 
 
 Here every word may be made emphatical, and on 
 which ever word a person lays the emphasis, whether on 
 the first, second, third, or fourth, it conveys a very dif- 
 ferent sense, and opens a new subject of moving expof*- 
 tulation. 
 
 2. Some sentences are equivocal, as well as some 
 words ; that is, they contain more senses than one ; and 
 which is the sense intended, can only be known by 
 observing on what word the emphasis is laid. Thus : 
 " Shall you ride to town to-day V This question ia 
 capable of being taken in four different senses, according 
 to the different words on which you lay the emphasis. 
 If it be laid on the word [yow], the answer may bo, 
 " No, but I intend to send my servant." If it be laid 
 on the word [nc?e], the answer may be, " No, I intend 
 to walk." If you place the accent on the word [town], 
 it is a different question, and the answer may be, " No, 
 for I design to ride into the country." And if it be 
 
 vid on the compound word [to-day'], the sense is still 
 .-mewhat different from any of these, and the proper 
 answer may be, " No, but I shall to-morrow." Of such 
 importance sometimes is a right disposition of the em- 
 phasis, in order to determine the proper sense r»f what 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 27 
 
 ire read or speak. I shall illustrate this subject by 
 introducing another example : thus, this short sentence, 
 "Did Alexander conquer the Persians?" may have 
 three different meanings, according to the manner in 
 which the speaker places the accent ; and the emphasis 
 has, consequently, three different places : as, when the 
 speaker knew that the Persians were conquered, but did 
 not know by whom ; then the emphasis is placed on the 
 word Alexander ; as, " Did Alexander conquer the Per- 
 sians?" When it is known that Alexander attempted 
 the conquest, but the issue is not known, the emphasis 
 is then placed on the word conquer; as, " Did Alex- 
 ander conquer the Persians?" When it is known that 
 he conquered the adjacent countries, but it is not cer- 
 tainly known that he conquered the Persians, the em- 
 phasis is placed on the word Persians; as, "Did 
 Alexander conquer the Persians?'' 
 
 3. The voice must express, as exactly as possible, the 
 very sense or idea designed to be conveyed by the em- 
 phatical word, by a strong, rough, and violent, or a soft, 
 smooth, and tender sound. Thus the different passions 
 of the mind are to be expressed by a different sound or 
 tone of voice. Love, by a soft, smooth, languishing 
 voice; anger, by a strong, vehement, and elevated 
 voice ; joy, by a quick, sweet, and clear voice ; sorrow, 
 by a low, flexible, interrupted voice; fear, by a de- 
 jected, tremulous, hesitating voice ; courage hath a full, 
 bold, and loud voice ; and perplexity, a grave, steady, 
 and earnest one. Briefly, in exordiums the voice should 
 be 1 ;w ; in narratvyns, distinct ; in reasoning, .slow ; in 
 
^8 PRINCIPLES or ELOCUTION. 
 
 persuasion, strong : it should thunder in anger , soften 
 in sorrow, tremble mfear, and melt in love. 
 
 4. The variation of the emphasis must not only dis- 
 tinguish the various passions described, but the several 
 forms and figures of speech in which they are expressed ; 
 namely, in a prosopopoeia, we must change the voice as 
 the person introduced would. In an antithesis, one 
 contrary must be pronounced louder than the other. In 
 a climax, the voice should always rise with it. In dia 
 logues, it should alter with the parts. In repetitions, it 
 should be loudest in the second place. Words of quality 
 and distinction, or of praise or dispraise, must be pro- 
 nounced with a strong emphasis. 
 
 5. The emphasis is often placed on a wrong word in 
 a sentence. This is the most common fault, and most 
 liable to be committed, and arises from the want of a 
 thorough knowledge of the sense, and the writer's 
 ideas : for, if the reader or speaker be not perfectly 
 acquainted with the exact construction and full meaning 
 of every sentence which he recites, it is impossible he 
 should give those inflexions and variations of the voice 
 which nature requires. Some persons, finding the difii 
 culty of rightly placing the emphasis, have rejected all 
 emphasis entirely, and read with a dull, stupid mono 
 tony, which is the worst fault of all. 
 
 Cadence is directly opposite to emphasis. Emphasis 
 marks the raising of the voic?, cadence the falling of it ; 
 and, when it is managed with propriety and judgment, 
 it is exceedingly musical. But, besides a cadence of the 
 voice^ there is such a thing as cadence oi style ; and tlat 
 is, when the sense being almost expresse i and perfectly 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 29 
 
 discerned by the reader, tlie remaining words (which are 
 only necessary to ccmplete the period) gently fall of 
 themselves without any emphatical word among them ; 
 and, if the author's language be pure and elegant, his 
 cadence of style will naturally direct the cadence of 
 voice. Cadence, then, generally takes place at the end 
 of a sentence, unless it close with an emphatical word. 
 Ever J parenthesis is to be pronounced in cadence, that 
 is, in a low voice, and quicker than ordinary, that it 
 may not take off the attention too much from the sense 
 of the period it interrupts. But all apostrophes and 
 'prosopopoeias are to be pronounced in emphasis. 
 
 A careful regard to these things is the first rule for 
 attaining a right and proper method of pronunciation. 
 
 If a person would acquire a right and just pronuncia- 
 tion in reading or speaking, he must not only take in 
 or comprise the full sense, but enter into the spirit of 
 his author ; for he can never convey the force and full- 
 '' ness of his author's ideas to another, till he feel them 
 himself. No man can read an author he does not per- 
 fectly understand ; at least, not so as to be perfectly 
 comprehended. 
 
 "The great rule," says a distinguished writer and 
 orator, " which the masters of rhetoric so much press, 
 can never enough be remembered ; ^ that to make a man 
 speak well, and pronounce with a right emphasis, he 
 ought thoroughly to understand all that he says, be fully 
 persuaded of it, and bring himself to have those affec- 
 tions which he desires to infuse into others.' He that 
 is inwardly persuaded of the truth of what he says, and 
 that hath a concern about it in his mind, will pronounce 
 
8C PEINCIPLES or ELOCUTION. 
 
 with a natural vehemence that is far more lovely than 
 all the strains that art can lead him to. An orator 
 must endeavor to feel what he says, and then he will 
 speak so as to maki others feel it." 
 
 The same rules are to be observed in reading poetry 
 as prose: neither the rhyme nor the numbers should 
 take off the attention from the sense and spirit of the 
 author ; for it is that only which must direct the pro- 
 nunciation in poetry as well as in prose. When any 
 one reads verse, he must not at all favor the measure or 
 rhyme ; that often obscures the sense, and spoils the 
 pronunciation ; for the great end of pronunciation is, 
 to elucidate and heighten the sense ; that is, to repre- 
 sent it not only in a clear but a strong light. Whatever 
 then obstructs this is carefully to be avoided, both in 
 verse and prose. Nay, this ought to be more carefully 
 shunned in reading verse than prose; because the 
 author, by a constant attention to his measures or 
 rhyme, and the exaltation of his language, is sometimes 
 apt to obscure his sense ; which therefore requires the 
 more care in the reader to discover and distinguish it 
 by the pronunciation. And if, when any one reads 
 verse with proper pause, emphasis, and cadence, and a 
 pronunciation varied and governed by the sense, it be 
 not harmonious and beautiful, the fault is not in the 
 reader, but the author. If the verse be good, to read 
 it thus will improve its harmony ; because it will take 
 off that uniformity of sound and accent which tires the 
 oar, and makes the numbers heavy and disagreeable. 
 
 In the third place ; another important rule is, Study 
 nature. Bv this is meant. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 81 
 
 1. That a person should study his own natural dispc- 
 giiions and affections; and those subjects wliich are 
 more congenial to his own feelings, he will easily pro- 
 nounce with a beautiful propriety ; but, to heighten the 
 pronunciation, the natural warmth of the mind should 
 be permitted to have its course under a proper rein and 
 regulation. 
 
 2. Study the natural dispositions and affections of 
 others ; for some are more easily impressed and moved 
 one way, and some another. An orator should be 
 acquainted with all the avenues to the heart. 
 
 3. A person should study the most easy and natural 
 way of expressing himself both as to the tone of voice and 
 the mode of speech. This is best learned by observations 
 on common conversation ; where all is free, natural, and 
 easy ; where we are only intent on making ourselves 
 understood, and conveying our ideas in a strong, plain, 
 and lively manner, by the most natural language, pro- 
 nunciation, and action. The nearer, indeed, our pro- 
 nunciation in public agrees with the freedom and ease 
 of that we use in common discourse, (provided we keep 
 up the dignity of the subject, and preserve a propriety 
 of expression,) the more just, and natural, and agreeable 
 it will generally be. Above all things, then, stud^ 
 nature ; avoid affectation ; never use art, if you have 
 not the art to conceal it ; for whatever does not appear 
 natural can never be agreeable, still less persuasive. 
 
 In the fourth place, it is proper that a person should 
 endeavor to keep his mind collected and composed. He 
 should constantly guard against that flutter and timidity 
 of spirit which is the common infelicity cif young per- 
 
92 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 sons, and especially those who are naturally bashful, 
 when they first begin to speak in public. This is a very 
 great hindrance both to their pronunciation and inven- 
 tion ; and at once gives both themselves and theii 
 hearers unnecessary pain. It will wear off", by constant 
 opposition. The best way to give the mind a good 
 degree of assurance and self-command at such a time, is, 
 for a person, 
 
 1. To be entirely master of his subject ; with a con- 
 sciousness that he delivers to his audience nothing but 
 what is worth their hearing : this will furnish him with 
 a proper share of courage. 
 
 2. He should endeavor to be wholly engaged in his 
 subject ; and, when the mind is intent upon and warmed 
 with it, it will forget that awful deference it before paid 
 to the audience, which was so apt to disconcert it. 
 
 3. If the sight of his hearers, or any of them, dis« 
 compose him, he should keep his eyes from beholding 
 them. 
 
 Fifthly^ it is proper to observe, that a person should 
 keep up a life, spirit, and energy, in the expression ; 
 and let the voice naturally vary according to the varia- 
 tion of the style and subject. Whatever be the subject, 
 it will never be pleasing, if the style be low and flat ; 
 nor, if the pronunciation be so, will the beauty of the 
 style be discovered. Cicero observes, there must be a 
 glow in our style, if we would warm our readers. The 
 transition of the voice must always correspond with that 
 of the subject, and the passions it was intended to 
 excite. 
 
 Sixthly^ in order to attam a just and graceful pr<v 
 
PHINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. S3 
 
 nunciation, it is proper tliat a person should accustom 
 himself frequently to hear those who excel in it, whether 
 at the bar or in the pulpit ; where he will perceive all 
 the forementioned rules exemplified, and be able to 
 account for all those graces and beauties of pronuncia- 
 tion which always gratified him, though he were unable 
 to tell why. Indeed, the best mode of acquiring the 
 art of pronunciation, like all others, is rather by imita- 
 tion than by rule ; but to be first acquainted with the 
 rules of it, will render the imitation more easy. In 
 fact, beyond all that has been said, or can be described, 
 he will observe a certain agreeableness of manner in 
 some speakers, that is natural to them, not to be reduced 
 to any rule, and to be learned by imitation only ; nor 
 even by that, unless it be in some degree natural to 
 himself as the hearer. 
 
 Seventhly, a person should frequently exercise him- 
 self in reading aloud, according to the foregoing rules. 
 It is practice only that can give him the faculty of an 
 elegant pronunciation. This, like other habits, is only 
 to be acquired by acts often repeated. 
 
 Orators, indeed, as well as poets, must be born so, or 
 they will never excel in their respective arts : but that 
 part of oratory which consists in a decent and graceful 
 pronunciation (provided there be no defect in the organs 
 of speech) may be attained by rule, by imitation, and 
 by practice ; and, when attained, will give a beauty to 
 a person's speech, a force to his thoughts, and a plea- 
 sure to his auditors, which cannot be expressed; and 
 which all will admire, but none can imitate, unless they 
 be first prepared for it by nature and by art. In short.^ 
 .3 
 
84 PRINCIPLES or ELOCUTION. 
 
 the groat a Ivantage of a just pronunciation is, that it 
 will please all, whether they have no taste, a bad taste, 
 or a good one. 
 
 THE IXFLECTIONS OF THE VOICE. 
 
 Besides the pauses, which indicate a greater or less aiparation of 
 the parts of a sentence anvi a conclusion of the whole, there are cer- 
 tain inflections of voice, accompanying these pauses, which are as 
 necessary to the sense of the sentence as the pauses themselves ; for, 
 however exactly we may pause between those parts which are separ- 
 able, if we do not pause with such an inflection of the voice as is 
 puited to the sense, the compcsition we read will not only want its 
 true meaning, but will have a meaning very different from that in- 
 tended by the writer. 
 
 Whether words are pronounced in a high or low, in a loud or soft 
 tone ; whether they are pronounced swiftly or slowly, forcibly or 
 feebly, with the tone of passion or without it ; they must necessarily 
 be pronounced either sliding upward or downward, or else go into a 
 monotone or song. 
 
 By the rising or falling inflection, is not meant the pitch of the voice 
 m which ihe whole word is pronounced, or that loudness or softness 
 which may accompany any pitch ; but that upward or downward slide 
 which the voice makes when the pronunciation of a word is finisliing, 
 and which may, therefore, not improperly, be called the rising and 
 falling inflection. 
 
 We must carefully guard against mistaking the low tone at the be- 
 ginning of the rising inflection for the falling reflection, and the high 
 tone at the beginning of the falling inflection for the rising inflection 
 as they are not denominated rising or falling from the high or low 
 tone in which they are pronounced, but from the upward or down- 
 ward slide in which they terminate, whethv" pronounced in a high oi 
 low key. 
 
 Rule I. — The falling mflection ta^fi-s place at a 'period 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. That man is little to be erJed whose patriotism 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. Z^ 
 
 would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, oi 
 whose piety would not grow warmer among the rums it 
 Iona\ 
 
 2. The pleasures of the imagination, the pleasure 
 arising from science, from the fine arts, and from the 
 principle of curiosity, are peculiar to the human' spe- 
 cies. 
 
 When a sentence concludes an antithesis, the first branch of which, 
 oeing emphatic, requires the falling- inflection ; the second branch re 
 quires the weak emphasis, and rising inflection. 
 
 Note. — When there is a succession of periods or loose members iu 
 a sentence, though they may all have the falling inflection, yet every 
 one of them ought to be pronounced in a somewhat diflerent pitch 
 of the voice from the other. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. If we have no regard for our own"^ character, we ought to have 
 some regard for the character of others^. 
 
 2. If content cannot remove'^ the disquietudes of mankind, it will at 
 least alleviate^ them. 
 
 Rule II. — Negative sentences, or members of sentences^ 
 must end with the rising inflection, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. The region beyond the grave is not a solitary' 
 land. There your fathers are, and thither every other 
 friend shall follow you in due season. 
 
 2. True charity is not a meteor, which occasionally 
 glares; but a luminary, which, in its orderly and regular 
 course, dispenses a benignant influence. 
 
m PFlINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Rule III. — The penultimate member'^ of a sentence re- 
 quires the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. We were now treading that illustrious island which 
 was once the luminary of the Caledonian regions, whence 
 savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits 
 of knowledge', and the blessings of religion. 
 
 2. Mahomet was a native of Mecca, a city of that 
 division of Arabia, which, for the luxury of its soil and 
 happy temperature of its climate, has ever been esteemed 
 the loveliest and sweetest' region in the world, and dis- 
 tinguished by the epithet of happy. 
 
 Rule IV. — Every direct period, having its two principal 
 constructive parts connected by corresponding conjunc- 
 tions or adverbs, requires the long pause, with the rising 
 inflection at the end of the first part. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. If, when we behold a well-made and well-regulated 
 watch, we infer the operations of a skillful artificer'; 
 then none but a "fool" indeed can contemplate the 
 universe, all whose parts are so admirably formed, and 
 so harmoniously adjusted, and yet say, "There is n« 
 God." 
 
 2. "Whenever you see a people making progress in 
 vice ; whenever you see them discovering a growing dis- 
 regard to the divine law'; there you see proportional 
 advances made to ruin and misery. 
 
 Note. — When the emphatical word in the conditional part of the 
 sentence is in direct opposition to another wore? in the conclusion, 
 
 f Penultimate signifies the last but one. 
 
PRINCIPLES 01 ELOCUTION. 8/ 
 
 and a concession is iniplfed in the former, in order to strengthen the 
 arg-iment in the latter, the first member has the falling, and the last 
 the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. If we have no regard for religion in youth^, we ought to have 
 Bome regard for it in age^. 
 
 2. If we have no regard for our own*' character, we ought to have 
 Bome regard for the character of others''. 
 
 If these sentences had been formed so as to make the latter member 
 a mere inference from, or consequence of, the former, the general rule 
 would have taken place : thus — 
 
 1, If we have no regard for religion in youth'', we have seldom any 
 regard for it in age^. 
 
 2. If we have no regard for our own'' character, it can scarcely be 
 expected that we could have any regard for the character of others^. 
 
 liTJLE V. — Direct periods, commencing with participles 
 of the present and past tense, consist of two parts ; 
 between which must he inserted the long pause and 
 rising inflection, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Having existed from all eternity', God, through 
 all eternity, must continue to exist. 
 
 2. Placed by Providence on the palaestra of life', every 
 human being is a wrestler, and happiness is that prize 
 tor which he is bound to contend. 
 
 Nott. — When the last wrvrd of the first part of these sentences re- 
 quires the strong emphasis, the falling inflection must be used iusteaa 
 cf the rising. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Hannibal being frequently destitute of money and provisions, wiit 
 no recruits of strength in case of ill fortune, and no enconragenuMit. 
 even when successfuK ; it is not to be wondered at that his affairs 
 began at length to decline. 
 
hb PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Rl]*fc VI. — Those parts of a sentence which depend <yi 
 adjectives require the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. l"^£stitute of the favor of God', you are in no better 
 situation, with all your supposed abilities, than orphans 
 left to wander in a trackless desert. 
 
 2. Full of spirit, and high in hope', we set out on the 
 journey of life. 
 
 Rule Nil. -Every inverted period* requires the rising 
 inflection and long 'pause between its two principal ccn- 
 structive parts. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Persoiis of good taste expect to be pleased', at the 
 «ame time they are informed. 
 
 2. I can desire to perceive those things that God has 
 prepared for those that love' him, though they be such 
 as eye hath not seen, ear heard, nor hath it entered 
 into the heart of man to conceive. 
 
 Seotences constructed like the following also fall under this rule. 
 
 3 Poor were the expectations of the studious, tho 
 modest, and the good', if the reward of their labors 
 were only to be expected from man. 
 
 4. Virtue were a kind of misery', if fame only werf- 
 all the garland that crowned her. 
 
 ♦ A period is said to be inverted, when the first part forms perfect 
 sense by itself, but Is modified or determined in its signification bj 
 tbe latter. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 8? 
 
 Rule VIII. — Tlie member that forms perfect sense must 
 he separated from those tliat follow by a long pause ana 
 the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Through faith we understand thai the worlds were 
 iramed by the word of God'; so that things which are 
 Been were not made of things that do appear. 
 
 2. By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out 
 into a place which he should after receive for an inheri- 
 tance, obeyed'; and he went out, not knowing whither 
 he went. 
 
 liote. — When a sentence consists of several loose members which 
 neither modify nor are modified by one another, they may be consi- 
 dered as a compound series, and pronounced accordingly. 
 
 Rule IX. — The first member of an antithesis must end 
 with the long pause of the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. The most frightful disorders arose from the state 
 of feudal anarchy. Force decided all things. Europe 
 was one great field of battle, where the weak struggled 
 for freedom', and the strong for dominion. The king 
 was without power', and the nobles without principle. 
 They were tyrants at home', and robbers abroad. 
 Nothing remained to be a check upon ferocity and 
 violence. 
 
 2. Between fame and true honor a distinction is to be 
 made. The former is a blind and noisy' applause ; the 
 latter a more silent and internal homage. Fame floats 
 on the breath of the multitude': honor rests on the 
 judgment of tne thinking. Fame may give praise, 
 
40 PRINCIPLilS or ELOCUTION 
 
 while it withholds esteem': true honor implieft «A.U,ijm 
 mingled with respect. The one regards particular dis 
 tinguished' talents; the other looks up to the whole 
 character. 
 
 Rule X. — At the end of a concession the rising inflection 
 takes place, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Reason, eloquence, and every art which ever has 
 been studied among mankind, may be abused, and may 
 prove dangerous in the hands of bad' men ; but it were 
 perfectly childish to contend, that, upon this account, 
 they ought to be abolished. 
 
 2. One may be a speaker, both of much reputation 
 and much influence in the calm argumentative' manner. 
 To attain the pathetic, and the sublime of oratory, re- 
 quires those strong sensibilities of mind, and that high 
 power of expression, which are given to few. 
 
 Rule XI. — Questions asked by pronouns or adverbs end 
 with the falling inflection. 
 
 examples. 
 1. "Who continually supports and governs this stupen- 
 dous system'? Who preserves ten thousand times ten 
 thousand worlds in perpetual harmony'? Who enablca 
 them always to observe such times, and obey such laws, 
 as are most exquisitely adapted for the perfection of the 
 wondrous whole'? They cannot preserve and direct 
 themselves ; for they were created, and must, therefoj e, 
 be dependent. How, then, can they be so actual 'd 
 
PKINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 41 
 
 and directed but by the unceasing energy of the greai 
 
 Supreme^ ? 
 
 2. Ah ! why will kings forget that they are men, 
 And men that they are brethren^? Why delight 
 In human^ sacrifice ? Why burst the ties 
 Of nature, that should knit their souls together 
 In one soft bond of amity and love'? 
 
 Note 1. — Interrogative sentences, consisting of members in a series 
 necessarily depending on each other for sense, must be pronounced 
 according lo the rule which relates to the series of which they are 
 composed. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 What can be more important and interesting than an inquiry into 
 the existence^, attributes'', providence^, and moral government'' of 
 God? 
 
 Rule XII. — Questions asked hy verbs require the rising 
 inflection.'^ 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Can the soldier, when he girdeth on his armor, 
 boast like him that putteth it off' ? Can the merchant 
 predict that the speculation, on which he has entered, 
 will be infallibly crowned with success' ? Can even the 
 husbandman, who has the promise of God that seed-time 
 and harvest shall not fail, look forward with assured 
 confidence to the expected increase of his fields'? In 
 these, and in all similar cases, our resolution to act can 
 be founded on probability alone. 
 
 2. Avarus has long been ardently endeavoring to fill 
 his chest : and lo ! it is now full. Is he happy' ? Does 
 
 * When the question is very long, however, or concludes a pari^ 
 graph, the falling instead of the rising inflection takes place. 
 
42 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 fle use' it ? Does he gratefully think of the Giver' of 
 
 all good things? Does he distribute to the poor'? 
 Alas ! these interests have no place in his breast. 
 
 Rule XIII. — When interrogative sentences connected by 
 the disjunctive, or, expressed or understood, succeed 
 each other, the first end with the rising and the rest with 
 the falling inflection."^ 
 
 EXAMPLES 
 
 1. Does God, after having made his creatures, take 
 no further' care of them ? Has he left them to blind 
 fate or undirected chance' ? Has he forsaken the works 
 of his own hands'? Or does he always graciously pre- 
 serve, and keep, and guide^ them ? 
 
 2. Should these credulous infidels after all be in the 
 right, and this pretended revelation be all a fable, from 
 believing it what harm^ could ensue ? Would it render 
 princes more tyrannical, or subjects more ungovernable' ? 
 the rich more insolent, or the poor more disorderly'? 
 Would it make worse parents, or children'; husbands, 
 or wives' ; masters, or servants' ; friends, or neighbors' ? 
 or would it not make men more virtuous, and, conse- 
 quently, more happy^ in every situation ? 
 
 Note 2. — An interrogative sentence, consisting of a variety of mem- 
 bers depending on each other for sense, may have the inflection com- 
 mon to other sentences, provided the last member has that inflection 
 which distinguishes the species of interrogation to which it belongs. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Can we believe a thinking being, that is in a perpetual progress of 
 injprovement'', and travelling on from perfection to perfection, after 
 
 * When or is used conjunctively, the inflections are not regulated 
 bv it. 
 
PRINaPLES OF ELOCUTION. 4d 
 
 tavSng just looked abroad into the works of its Creator^, and made a 
 fow discoveries of his infiuite goodness, wisdom, and power, must perish 
 ot her first setting out"^, and in the very beginning'' of her inquiries? 
 Note 3. — Interrogative sentences, consisting of members in a series, 
 which form perfect sense as they proceed, must have every member 
 terminate with that inflection which distinguishes the species of inter- 
 rogation of which they consist. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1 . Hath death torn from your embrace the friend whom you ten- 
 derly loved'' — him to whom you were wont to unbosom the secrets 
 of your souK — him who was your counsellor in perplexity, the sweet- 
 ener of all your joys, and the assuager of all your sorrows^? You 
 think you do well to mourn ; and the tears with which you water his 
 grave, seem to be a tribute due to his virtues. But waste not your 
 affection in fruitless lamentation. 
 
 2. Who are the persons that are most apt to fall into peevishness 
 and dejection'^ — that are continually complaining of the world, and 
 see nothing but wretchedness^ around them ? Are they those whom 
 want compels to toil for their daily bread'' — who have no treasure 
 but the labor of their hands^— who rise with the rising sun to expose 
 themselves to all the rigors of the seasons, unsheltered from the win- 
 ter's cold, and unshaded from the summer's heat^? No. The labors 
 3f such are the very blessings of their condition. 
 
 Note 4. — When questions, asked by verbs, are followed by answere, 
 the rising inflection, in a high tone of voice, takes place at the end of 
 the question, and, after a long pause, the answer must be pronounced 
 in a lower tone. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Are you desirous that your talents and abilities may procure 
 you respect''? Display them not ostentatiously to public view. Would 
 you escape the envy which your riches'' might excite ? Let them not 
 minister to pride, but adorn them with humility. 
 
 2. There is not an evil incident to human nature for which the 
 gospel doth not provide a remedy. Are you ignorant of many things 
 which it highly concerns you to know''? The gospel offers you iiv 
 Btruction. Hav? you deviated from the path of duty'? The go?peI 
 
44 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 oSTeiv you forgiveness. Do temptation?'' surround yo« ? The gospti 
 offers you the aid of Heaven. Are you exposed to misery'? It cod« 
 soles you. Are you subject to death''? It offers yoti immortality. 
 
 ^luLE XIV. — The inflections at the note of exclamation 
 are the same as at any other point, in sentences simi- 
 larly constructed. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. The Almighty sustains and conducts the universe. 
 It was he who separated the jarring elementsM It was 
 he who hung up the worlds in empty space^ ! It was he 
 who preserves them in their circles, and impels them iu 
 their course'! 
 
 2. How pure, how dignified should they be, whose 
 origin is celestial' ! How pure, how dignified should 
 they be, who are taught to look higher than earth ; to 
 expect to enjoy the divinest pleasures for evermore, and 
 to " shine forth as the sun in the kingdom of their 
 Father!" 
 
 Rule XV. — When the exclamation, in form of a ques- 
 tion, is the echo of another question of the same kind, 
 or when it proceeds from wonder or admiration, it 
 always requires the rising inflection. 
 examples. 
 
 1. Will you for ever, Athenians, do nothing but walk 
 up and down the city, asking one another. What news' ? 
 What news' ! Is there anything more new than to see 
 a man of Macedonia become master of the Athenians, 
 and give laws to all Greece' ? 
 
 2. What' ! might Rome then have been taken, if those 
 men who were at your gates had not wanted courage' 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 16 
 
 for the attempt? — Rome taken when I' was consul!— 
 Of honors I had sufficient — of life enough — more than 
 enough. 
 
 Rule XYI. — A parenthesis must he pronounced in a lowet 
 tone of voice than the rest of the sentence, and conclude 
 with the same pause and iiijiection which terminate the 
 member that immediately precedes it,* 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Though fame, who is always the herald of the great, 
 has seldom deigned to transmit the exploits of the lower 
 ranks to posterity', (for it is commonly the fate of those 
 whom fortune has placed in the vale of obscurity to have 
 their noble actions buried in oblivion';) yet, in their 
 rerses, the minstrels have preserved many instances of 
 domestic woe and felicity. 
 
 2. Uprightness is a habit, and, like all other habits, 
 gains strength by time and exercise. If, then, we ex- 
 ercise' upright principles, (and we cannot have them 
 unless we exercise' them,) they must be perpetually on 
 the increase. 
 
 Note 1. — The end of a parenthesis must have the falling inflection 
 when it terminates with an emphatical word. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Had I, when speaking in the assembly, been absolute and indepen- 
 dent master of affairs, then your other speakers might call me to ac- 
 count. But if ye were ever present, if ye were all in general invitee 
 to propose your sentiments, if ye were all agreed that the measures 
 
 * A parenthesis must also be pronounced a degree quicker than the 
 rest of the sentence ; a pause, too, must be made both before and 
 after it, proportioned in length to the more intimate or remote con- 
 r.ection, which it has with the rest of the sentence. 
 
46 PRINCIPLES OF ELJCUTION. 
 
 then suggested were really the best ; if you, .^chines, in particular, 
 were thus persuaded, ^and it was no partial affection for me, tba< 
 prompted you to give me up the hopes, the applause, the honors, which, 
 attended that course I then advised, but the superior force of truth 
 and your utter inability to point out any more eligible^ course ;) if 
 this was the case, I say, is it not highly cruel aLd unjust to arraign 
 those measures now, when you could not then propose any better ? 
 
 Note 2. — When the parenthesis is long, it may be pronounced with 
 a degree of monotone or sameness of voice, in order to distinguish it 
 from the rest of the sentence. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Since, then, every sort of good which is immediately of importance 
 to happiness, must be perceived by some immediate power or sense, 
 antecedent to any opinions or reasoning'', (for it is the business of 
 reason to compare the several sorts of good perceived by the several 
 senses, and to find out the proper means for obtaining'' them,) we 
 must therefore carefully inquire into the several sublimer perceptive 
 powers or senses : since it is by them we best discover what state or 
 course of life best answers the intention of God and nature, and 
 wherein true happiness consists. 
 
 Note 3. — The small intervening members, said 1, says he, continued 
 they, &c., follow the inflection and tone of the member which precedes 
 them, in a higher and feebler tone of voice. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Thus, then, said he, since you are so urgent, it is thus that 1 con 
 ceive it. The sovereign good is that, the possession of which render* 
 OS happy. And now, said I, do we possess it ? Is it sensual or in 
 tellectual ? There, you are entering, said he, upon the detail. 
 
 HARMONIC INFLECTION. 
 
 Besides that variety which necessarily arises from annexing certair 
 inflections to sentences of a particular import or structure, there is 
 still another source of variety, in those parts of a sentence where the 
 sense is not at all concerned, and where the variety is merely to please 
 the ear. There are many members of sentences which may be differ- 
 ently pro )unc<Hl without greatly affectir)g their variety and harmony 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 4t 
 
 It 18 chiefly toward the end of a seutence that the htrraouic infleciioa 
 is necessary iu order to form au agreeable cadence. 
 
 Rule I. — When a series of similar sentences, ormembers 
 of sentences, fo'^m a bra7ich of a subject or paragrapli», 
 the last sentence or member must fall gradually into a 
 lower tone, and adopt the harmonic inflection, on suvh 
 words ad form the most agreeable cadence. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Since I have mentioned this unaccountable zeal which 
 appears in atheists and infidels, I must farther observe, 
 that they are likewise in a most particular manner pos- 
 sessed with the spirit of bigotry. They are wedded' to 
 opinions^ full of contradiction^ and impossibility', and 
 at the same' time^ look upon the smallest' difficulty^ in an 
 article^ of faith' as a sufficient reason for rejecting it. 
 
 Rule II. — When the last member of a sentence ends with 
 four accented words, the falling inflection takes place on 
 the first and Ic^t, and the rising on the second and 
 third, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. The immortality of the soul is the basis of morality, 
 and the source of all the pleasing' hopes^ and secret 
 joys', that can arise^ in the heart' of a reasonable' 
 creature'. 
 
 2. A brave' man struggling' in the stones' of fate', 
 And greatly' falling' with a falling' state'. 
 
48 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 liULF. III. — W7ie7i there are three accented words at th^ 
 end of the last member, the first has either the rising or 
 falling^ the second the rising, and the last the falling 
 inflection, 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Cicero concludes his celebrated books, De Oratore, 
 with some precepts for pronunciation and action, without 
 which part he affirms, that the best orator in the world 
 can never succeed, and an indifferent one, who is master 
 jf this, shall gain much^ greater' applause\ 
 
 ECHO 
 
 Is here used to express that repetition of a word or thought, whicti 
 inniediately arises from a word or thought that preceded it. 
 
 ilULE. — The echoing word jv.ght always to he pronounced 
 with the rising inflection in a high tone of voice, and a 
 long paiise after it, when it implies any degree of 
 passion.* 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 1. Augnstin became a Christian ! Augustin'! who 
 Jiad mastered all the learning of his age, and whose 
 fiubtle mind had anticipated the objections of future 
 unbelievers. 
 
 Bossuet was a Christian I Bossuet'I whose soaring 
 L»^enius and wonderful intellectual vision are acknowl- 
 edged and honored by all. 
 
 * The echoing word is printed in italics and roarkcd with thi 
 tisine in flection 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. I» 
 
 THE MONOTONE, 
 In certain Rolemn and sublime passages has a wonderful force ano 
 dignity ; and by the uncommonness of its use, it even adds greatly to 
 that vai-iety with which the ear is so much delighted.* 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 1. lligh on a throne of royal state, which far 
 Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Inde, 
 Or where the gorgeous east, with richest hand. 
 Showers, on her kings barbaric, pearf and gold', 
 Satan exalted sat. 
 
 CIRCUMFLEXES. 
 The rising circumflex begins with the falling inflection and end« 
 with the rising upon the same syllable, and seems as it were to twist 
 ♦he voice upward. This turn of the voice is marked in this maiw 
 oer, (..) 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 But it is foolish in us to compare Drusus Africanua 
 and ourselves with Clodius; all our other calamities 
 were tolerable ; but no one can patiently bear the death 
 of Glodius. 
 
 T\wfaUmg circumflex begins with the rising inflection, and encta 
 with the falling upon the same syllable, and seems to twist the voice 
 dowDward. This turn of the voice may be marked by the common 
 circumflex : thus, ( ». ) 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended. 
 Mamlet. Madam, you have my father much offended. 
 
 • This monotone may be defined to be a continuation or sameness 
 of sound upon certain syllables of a word, exactly like that produced 
 by repeatedly striking a bell ; — such a stroke may be louder or softer 
 but continues exactly in the same pitch. To express this tone upon 
 p^per, a horizontal line may be adopted ; such a one as is generally 
 B«eil to express a long syllable in verse : thus ( - .) 
 i 
 
M PRINCIPLES OF ELOCITION. 
 
 Both these circumflex inflections may be exemplified in tte « ord to 
 ID a speech of the Clown in Shakspeare's As You Like It. 
 
 I knew when seven justices could not take up a 
 quarrel ; but when the parties were met themselves, one 
 of them thought but of an If; as if you said s5, then i 
 said s6. ho ! did you sS ? So they shook hands an I 
 were sworn brothers. 
 
 CLIMAX, 
 
 OR A GRADUAL INCREASE OF SIGNIFICATION, 
 
 Requires an increasing swell of the voice on every suc- 
 ceeding particular, and a degree of animation corres- 
 ponding with the nature of the subject. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 1. After we have practised good actions awhile, they 
 become easy, and when they are easy, we begin to take 
 pleasure in them ; and when they please us, we -do them 
 frequently; and, by frequency of acts, a thing grows 
 into a habit; and a confirmed habit is a second kind of 
 nature; and, so far as anything is natural, so far it is 
 necessary, and we can hardly do otherwise; nay, we do 
 it many times when we do not think of it. 
 
 ACCENT. 
 Rule. — Emphasis requires a transposition of accent, 
 when two words which have v« sameness in part of their 
 formation, are opposed to each other in sense. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. What is done', cannot be Wdone.* 
 
 * The signs (^and^,) besides denoting the inflections, mark alec 
 Uie accented syllables. 
 
 Whatever inflection be adopted, the accented syllable is alwayi 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 51 
 
 2. There is a material difference between giv'\n^ and 
 /'or giving. 
 
 3. Thought and language act' and re\ci upon each 
 other. 
 
 4. He who is good before zV^isible witnesses, is emi- 
 nently so before the visihle. 
 
 5. What fellowship hath n^A^'eousness with uri- 
 righteousness ? ar.d what communion hath light »vith 
 darkness ? 
 
 6. The riches of the prince must ^Vcrease or de'- 
 crease, in proportion to the number and riches of his 
 subjects. 
 
 Note 1. — This transposition of the accent extends itself to all words 
 which have a sameness of termination, though they may not be 
 directly opposite in sense. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. In this species of composition, ^te'sibility is much 
 more essential than ^roJ'ability. 
 
 2. Lucius Catiline was expert in all the arts of sim'- 
 ulation and JzVsimulation ; covetous of what belonged 
 to others, lavish of his own. 
 
 Note 2. — When the accent is on the last syllable of a word which 
 has no emphasis, it must be pronounced louder and a degree lower 
 than the rest. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Sooner or later virtue must meet with a rewarcT, 
 
 louder than the rest ; but if the accent be pronounced with the rising 
 inflection, the accented syllable is higher than the preceding, and 
 lower than the succeeding syllable; and if the accent have the falling 
 inflection, the accented syllable is pronounced higher than any othe: 
 tyllable. either preceding or succeeding. 
 
62 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 EMPHASIS 
 
 la tnat stress we lay on words which are in contradi-tinction tf 
 other words expressed or understood. And hence wiJl follow this 
 general rale : Wherever there is contradisiinction in the sense of th4 
 tccrds, there ought to be emphasis in the pronunciation of them. 
 
 All words are pronounced either with emphatic force, accented 
 force, or unaccented force ; this last kind of force may be called by 
 the name of feebleness. When the words are in contradistinction to 
 other words, or to some sense implied, they may be called emphatic^ 
 where they do not denote contradistinction, and yet are more impor* 
 ant than the particles, they may be called accented, and the pai ticlea 
 and lesser words may be called unaccented or feeble. 
 
 EXAMPLES, 
 
 1. Exercise and temperance strengthen the constitution 
 
 2. Exercise and temperance strengthen even an indif- 
 ferent constitution. 
 
 The word printed in Roman capitals is pronounced with emphatic 
 force ; those in small Italics are pronounced with accented force ; the 
 re8t with unaccented force. 
 
 SINGLE EMPHASIS.* 
 Rule. — When a sentence is composed of a positive and 
 negative part, the positive miist have the falling, ani 
 the negative the rising inflection.'^ 
 examples. 
 
 1. We can do nothing against' the truth, but for the 
 truth. 
 
 2. None more impatiently suffer' injuries, than they 
 who are most forward in doing" them. 
 
 * When two emphatic words in antithesis with each other are eithef 
 expressed or implied, the emphasis is said to be single. 
 
 f To this rule, however, there are some ex:reptions, not only ia 
 poetry, but also in prose. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. AS 
 
 3. You were paid to fight against Alexander, and nol 
 to raiU at Mm. 
 
 DOUBLE EMPHASIS.* 
 Rule. — The falling inflection takes place on the first en^ 
 2)hatie word, the rising on the second and third, and the 
 falling on the fourth, f 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. To err" is human' ; to forgive' divine^. 
 
 2. Custom is the plague"" of wise' men, and the idol' 
 of fools\ 
 
 TREBLE EMPHASISE 
 Rule. — The rising inflection takes place on the first and 
 third, and the falling on the second of the first three 
 emphatical words; the first and third of the other 
 three have the falling, and the second has the rising 
 inflection. 
 
 examples. 
 
 1. K friend' cannot be knowrC m prosperity' ; and an 
 enemy" cannot be hidden' in adversity". 
 
 2. Flowers of rhetoric in sermons or serious dis- 
 courses are like the blue and red flowers in corn, plea- 
 sing' to those"" who come only for amusement', but preju- 
 diciat to him' who would reap the profit. 
 
 * When two words are opposed to each other, aud contrasted with 
 two other words, the emphasis on these four words may be called 
 double. 
 
 \ The pause after the second emphatic word must be consiJerablv 
 longer than that after the first or third. 
 
 \ When three emphatic words are opposed to three other emphatic 
 words in the same sentence, ti«e emphasis is called treble. 
 
54 PRINCEPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 TPTE ANTECEDENT. 
 Rule —Personal or adjective pronouns, when anUct' 
 demi, must be pronounced with an accentual force, t# 
 intimate that the relative is in view, and in some mea ■ 
 sure to anticipate the pronunciation of it, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Jle, that pursues fame with just claims, trusts hig 
 happiness to the winds ; but he, that endeavors after it 
 by false merit, has to fear, not only the violence of the 
 storm, but the leaks of his vessel. 
 
 2. The weakest reasoners are always the most posi- 
 tive in debate ; and the cause is obvious ; for thcT/ are 
 unavoidably driven to maintain their pretensions by 
 violence, who want arguments and reasons to prove that 
 they are in the right. 
 
 R *JLE II. — WJien the relative only is expressed, the an- 
 tecedent being understood, the accentual force thenfalU 
 upon the relative. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. TF^af 'nothing earthly gives or can destroy, 
 The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy, 
 Is virtue's prize. 
 
 2. WTio noble ends by noble means obtains, 
 Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains. 
 Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 
 Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. 
 
 GENERAL EMPHASIS 
 Is that emphatic force, which, when the composition is very ani 
 mated, ana approaches to a close, we often lay upon several words it 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTTQN. 6& 
 
 snccession. This emphasis is not so much regulated by tne sense of 
 the author, as by the taste and feelings of the reader, and therefore 
 does not admit of any certain rule. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. What men could do 
 
 Is done already: heaven and earth will witness, 
 If Rome^ must fall\ that we are innocent. 
 
 2. There was a time, then, my fellow-citizens, when 
 the Lacedaemonians were sovereign masters both by sea 
 and land; when their troops and forts surrounded the 
 entire circuit of Attica; when they possessed Euboea, 
 Tanagra, the whole Boeotian district, Megara, ^gina, 
 Cleone, and the other islands, while this state had not 
 one ship, not one* wall. 
 
 THE INTERMEDIATE OR ELLIPTICAL MEMBER 
 Is that part of a sentence which is equally related to both parts of 
 an antithesis, but which is properly only once expressed. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Must we, in your person, crown' the author of the 
 public calamities, or must we destroy^ him ? 
 
 2. A good man will love himself too well to loie* an 
 pstate by gaming, and his neighbor too well to wirC one. 
 
 RHEI^ORICAL PAUSES. 
 
 Rule I. — Pause after the nominative when it consists of 
 
 more than one wo'*'^.^ 
 
 example. 
 
 1. The fashion of this world passeth away. 
 
 • The place of the pause is immediately before each of the wordi« 
 printed in italics. 
 
56 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Note. — A pause may be made after a nominative, even when it 
 consists of only one word, if it be a word of importance, or if wa 
 wish it to be particularly observed. 
 
 EXAMPLKS. 
 
 1. Adversity is the school of piety. 
 
 2. The fopl hath said in his heart there is no God. 
 
 Rule II. — When anymemher comes between tJte naming- 
 tive case and the verhy it must be separated from both 
 of them by a short pause. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Trials in this state of being are the lot of man. 
 
 2. Such is the constitution of men, that virtue however 
 it may be neglected, for a time mil ultimately be acknow- 
 ledged and respected. 
 
 Rule III. — When any member comes between the verb 
 and the objective or accusative case, it must be separated 
 from both of them by a short pause, 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 I knew a person who possessed the faculty of distin- 
 guishing flavors in so great a perfection, that, after having 
 tasted ten different kinds of tea, he would distinguish 
 without seeing the color of it the particular sort which 
 was offered him. 
 
 Rule IV. — When two verbs come together, and the latter 
 is in the infinitive mood, if any words come between^ 
 they must be separated from the latter verb by a pause. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
 The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune ; 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. * 0« 
 
 Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
 And by opposing end them ? 
 yote. — When the verb to be is followed by a verb in the infinitive 
 loood, which may serve as a nominative case to it, and the phrases 
 before and after the verb may be transposed, then the pause falls be- 
 tween the verbs. 
 
 EXAMPLK. 
 
 riic greatest misery is to be condemned by our own hearts. 
 
 Rule Y.~-'When several substantives become the nomi- 
 natives to the same verb, a pause must be made between 
 the last substantive and the verb, as well as after each 
 of the other substantives. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Riches, pleasure, and health become evils to those who 
 do not know how to use them. 
 
 Rule VI. — If there are several adjectives belonging to 
 one substantive, or several substantives belonging to one 
 adjective, every adjective coming after its substantive, 
 and every adjective coming before the substantive except 
 the last, must be separated by a short pause, 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 1. It was a calculation accurate to the last degree. 
 j!^ote. — This rule applies also to sentences in which several adverbi 
 belong to one verb, or several verbs to one adverb. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. To love wisely, rationally, and prudently, is, in the opinion of 
 lovers, not to love at all. 
 
 2. Wisely, rationally, and prudently to love, is, in the opinion of 
 •overs, not to love at all. 
 
.^8 PRiNcrrLEs of flo^ution. 
 
 Rule A^II. — Whatever words are in the ablative absoluze^ 
 miist be Separated from the rest by a short joause both 
 before and after them. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 If a man burrow aught of his neighbor, and it be 
 hurt or die, the owner thereof not being with it, he shall 
 surely make it good. 
 
 Rule VIII. — Nouns in opposition, or words in the same 
 case^where the latter are only explanatory of the former^ 
 have a short pause between them, either if both of these 
 nouns consist of many terms, or the latter only. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Hope, the balm of life, soothes us under every mis- 
 fortune. 
 
 2. Solomon, the son of David, and the builder of the 
 temple of Jerusalem, was the richest monarch that reigned 
 over the Jewish people. 
 
 Rule IX. — Wlien two substantives come together, and 
 the latter, which is in the genitive case, consists of sev- 
 eral words closely united with each other, a pause is 
 admissible between the two principal substantives. 
 
 example. 
 I do not know whether I am singular in my opinion, 
 but, for my own part, I would rather look upon a trco 
 in all its luxuriancy, and di^^oion of boughs and 
 branches, than when it is cut and trimmed into a matho- 
 inaticai figure. 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. b*J 
 
 Rule X. — Who, which, when in the nominative ease, and 
 the pronoun that, when usedfo?' who or which, require 
 a short pause before them. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Death is the season which brings our affections to 
 the test. 
 
 2. Nothing is in vain that rouses the soul : nothing in 
 vain that keeps the ethereal fire alive and glowing. 
 
 3. A man can never be obliged to submit to any 
 power, unless he can be satisfied who is the person who 
 has a right to exercise it. 
 
 Rule XI. — Pav^e before that, when it is used for a con- 
 junction. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 It is in society only that we can relish those pure deli- 
 cious joys which embellish and gladden the life of man. 
 
 Rule XII. — When a pause is necessary at prepositions 
 and conjunctions, it mv^t be before, and not after them- 
 examples. 
 
 1. We must not conform to the world in their amuse- 
 ments and diversions. 
 
 2. There is an inseparable connection between piety 
 and virtue. 
 
 Rule XIII. — In an elliptical sentence, pause where th^ 
 
 ellipsis takes place, 
 
 example. 
 
 To our faith we should add virtue ; and to virtue 
 
 tnowledge ; and to knowledge temperance ; and to tern- 
 
60 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 perance patience; and to patience godliness; and U> 
 godliness brotherly/ kindness ; and to brotherly kindness 
 vharitT/. 
 
 Rule XIV. — Words placed either in opposition to, or in 
 apposition with each other, must be distinguished by a 
 pause. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 The pleasures of the imagination, taken in their 
 full extent, are not so gross as those of sense, nor so 
 refined as those of the understanding. 
 
 Rule XV. — When prepositions are placed in oppositiim 
 to each other, and all of them are intimately connected 
 with another word, the pause after the second preposi- 
 tion must be shorter than that after the first, a7id the 
 pause after the third shorter than that after the second. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Rank, distinction, pre-eminence, no man despises, 
 unless he is either raised very much above, or sunk very 
 much below, the ordinary standard of human nature. 
 
 RULES FOR READING VERSE. 
 
 On the Slides or Inflections of Verse. 
 
 1. The first general rule for reading verse is, that we 
 ought to give it that measured harmonious flow of sound 
 which distinguishes it from prose, without falling into a 
 bombastic, chanting pronunciation, which makes it ridi- 
 culous. 
 
 2. It will not be improper, before we read verse witli 
 
PRINCIPLES or ELOCUTION. e>] 
 
 its poetical graces, tj pronounce it exactly as if it were 
 prose : this will be depriving verse of its beauty, but 
 tvill tend to preserve it from deformity: the tones of 
 voice will be frequently different, but the inflections will 
 be nearly the same. 
 
 3. But though an elegant and harmonious pronuncia 
 tion of verse will sometimes oblige us to adopt different 
 inflections from those we use in prose, it may still be 
 laid down as a good general rule, that verse requires 
 the same inflections as prose, though less strongly 
 marked, and more approaching to monotones. 
 
 4. Wherever a sentence, or member of a sentence, 
 would necessarily require the falling inflection in prose, 
 it ought always to have the same inflection in poetry ; 
 for though, if we were to read verse prosaically, we 
 should often place the falling inflection where the style 
 of verse would require the rising, yet in those parts 
 where a portion of perfect sense, or the conclusion of a 
 sentence, necessarily requires the falling inflection, the 
 same inflection must be adopted both in verse and prose. 
 
 5. In the same manner, though we frequently suspend 
 the voice by the rising inflection in verse, where, if the 
 composition were prose, we should adopt the falling, yet, 
 wherever in prose the member or sentence would neces- 
 sarily require the rising inflection, this inflection must 
 necessarily be adopted in verse. 
 
 6. It may be observed, indeed, that it is in the fre • 
 quent use of the rising inflection, where prose would 
 adopt the falling, that the song of poetry consists ; 
 familiar, strong, argumentative subjects naturally en- 
 ioYce the language with the failing inflection, as this j« 
 
G2 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 naturally expressive of activity, force, and precision . 
 but grand, beautiful, and plaintive subjects slide natu 
 rally into the rising inflection, as this is expressive of 
 awe, admiration, and melancholy, where the mind may 
 be said to be passive ; and it is this general tendency 
 of the plaintive tone to assume the rising inflection, 
 which inclines injudicious readers to adopt it at those 
 pMuses where the falling inflection is absolutely neces- 
 sary, and for want of which the pronunciation degene- 
 rates into the whine, so much and so justly disliked ; 
 for it is very remarkable, that if, where the sense con- 
 cludes, we are careful to preserve the falling inflection, 
 and let the voice drop into the natural talking tone, the 
 voice may be suspended in the rising inflection on any 
 other part of the verse, with very little danger of falling 
 into the chant of bad readers. 
 
 On the Accent and Emphasis of Verse. 
 
 In verse, every syllable must have the same accent, 
 and every word the same emphasis, as in prose. 
 
 In words of two syllables, however, when the poet 
 transposes the accent from the second syllable to the 
 ilrst, we may comply with him, without occasioning any 
 harshness in the verse; — but when, in such words, he 
 changes the accent from ihe first to the second syllable, 
 every reader who has the least delicacy of feeling will 
 certainly preserve the common accent of these words on 
 the first syllable. 
 
 In misaccented words of three syllables, perhaps tho 
 least offensive method to the ear of preserving the ac 
 :;ent, and not entirely violating the quantity, would b« 
 
PKINCIPLES 0¥ ELOChILO^ b^ 
 
 to place nil accent on the syllable immediately preceding 
 that on which the poet has misplaced it, without drop- 
 ping that which is so misplaced. 
 
 The same rule seems to hold good where the poet has 
 placed the accent on the first and last syllable of a word, 
 which ought to have it on the middle syllable. 
 
 Where a word admits of some diversity in placing tlie 
 accent, it is scarcely necessary to observe, that the verse 
 ought in this case to decide. 
 
 But when the poet has with great judgment contrived 
 that his numbers shall be harsh and grating, in order to 
 3orrespond with the ideas they suggest, the common 
 accentuation must be preserved. 
 
 Hoiv the Vowels e and o are to be pronounced, when apott- 
 trophized. 
 
 The vowel e, whirii in poetry is often cut off by an 
 apostrophe in the word the and in unaccented syllables 
 before r, as dangWous, gen'rous, &c., ought always to be 
 preserved in pronunciation, because the syllable it forms 
 is so short as to admit of being sounded with the suc- 
 ceeding syllable, so as not to increase the number of 
 syllables to the ear, or at least to hurt the melody. 
 
 The same observations, in every respect, hold good in 
 the pronunciation of the preposition to, which ought 
 always to be sounded long, like the adjective two, how- 
 ever it may be printed. 
 
 On the Pause or Cc^sura of Verse. 
 Almost every veise admits of a pause in or near the 
 middle of the line, which is called the caesura : this must 
 
04 PJtll^ClPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 be car)fullj observed in reading verse, or mucb of tht 
 distinctness, and almost all the harmony, will be lost. 
 
 Though the most harmonious place for the capital 
 pause is after the fourth syllable, it may, for the sake 
 of expressing the sense strongly and suitably, and even 
 Bometimes for the sake of variety, be placed at several 
 other intervals. 
 
 The end of a line in verse naturally inclines us to 
 pause; and the words that refuse a pause so seldom 
 occur at the end of a verse, that we often pause between 
 words in verse where we should not in prose, but where 
 a pause would by no means interfere with the sense 
 This, perhaps, may be the reason why a pause at the 
 end of a line in poetry is supposed to be in compliment 
 to the verse, when the very same pause in prose is 
 allowable, and perhaps eligible, but neglected as unne- 
 cessary : however this be, certain it is, that if we pro- 
 Tiounce many lines in Milton, so as to make the equality 
 of impressions on the ear distinctly perceptible at the 
 end of every line ; if, by making this pause, we make 
 the pauses that mark the sense less perceptible, we ex- 
 change a solid advantage for a childish rhythm, and, by 
 endeavoring to preserve the name of verse, lose all its 
 meaning and energy. 
 
 On the Cadence of Verse, 
 
 In order to form a cadence at a period in rhyming 
 verse, we must adopt the falling inflection with consi- 
 derable force in the caesura of the last line but one. 
 
riiixciPLES OF elocutio:t. 6f. 
 
 How to pronounce a Simile in Poetry. 
 
 A simile in poetry ought a^Tvays to be read in a lower 
 tone of voice than that part of the passage which pre- 
 redes it. 
 
 This rule is one of the greatest embellishments of 
 poetic pronunciation, and is to be observed no less in 
 blank verse than in rhyme. 
 
 General Rules. 
 
 Where there is no pause in the sense at the end of a 
 verse, the last word must have exactly the same inflec- 
 tion it would have in prose. 
 
 Sublime, grand, and magnificent description in poetry 
 requires a lower tone of voice, and a sameness nearly 
 approaching to a monotone. 
 
 When the first line of a couplet does not form perfect 
 sense, it is necessary to suspend the voice at the end of 
 the line with the rising slide. 
 
 This rule holds good even where the first line forma 
 perfect sense by itself, and is followed by another form- 
 ing perfect sense likewise, provided the first line does 
 not end with an emphatic word which requires the 
 falling slide. 
 
 But if the first line ends with an emphatical word 
 requiring the falling slide, this slide must be given to it, 
 but in a higher tone of voice than the same slide in the 
 last line of the couplet. 
 
 When the first line of a couplet does not form sense, 
 and the second line, either from its not forming sense, 
 or from its being a question, requires the rising slide ; 
 in this case, the first line must end with such a pause aa 
 
66 PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 the sense requires, but without any alteration in the 
 tone of the voice. 
 
 In the same manner, if a question requires the second 
 line of the couplet to adopt the rising slide, the first 
 ought to have a pause at the end ; but the voice, with- 
 out any alteration, ought to carry on the same tone to 
 the second line, and to continue this tone almost to the 
 end. 
 
 The same principles of harmony and variety induce 
 us to read a triplet with a sameness of voice, or a mono- 
 tone, on the end of the first line, the rising slide on the 
 end of the second, and the falling on the last. 
 
 This rule, however, from the various sense of the 
 triplet, is liable to many exceptions. But, with very 
 few exceptions, it may be laid down as a rule, that a 
 quatrain or stanza of four lines of alternate verse, may 
 be read with the monotone ending the first line, the 
 rising slide ending the second and third, and the falling 
 the last. 
 
 The plaintive tone, so essential to the delivery of 
 elegiac composition, greatly diminishes the slides, and 
 reduces them almost to monotones ; nay, a perfect mono- 
 tone, without any inflection at all, is sometimes very 
 judiciously introduced in reading verse. 
 
 On Scanning. 
 
 A certain number of syllables connected form a foot. 
 They are called feet, because it is by their aid that the 
 voice, as it were, steps along through the verse, in a 
 measured pace. 
 
 All feet used in poetry consist either of two or of 
 
PRINCIPLES OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 67 
 
 tfiree syllables, and a^'C reducible to eight kinds ; four 
 of two syllables, and four of three, as follow : — 
 
 The hyphen - marks a long, and the breve - a shoi*. 
 syllable. 
 
 Dissyllable, 
 A Trochee - - 
 An Iambus - - 
 
 A Spondee 
 
 A Pyrrhic ^ ^ 
 
 TrUyllMe, 
 A Dactyl 
 An Amphibrach 
 An Anapaest 
 A Tribrach 
 
#>^ 
 
 \^ 
 
 i(^. 
 
THE 
 
 FIFTH PROGRESSIVE READER, 
 
 PART II. 
 
 L— POPE ST LEO THE GREAT AND ATTILA. 
 
 1>AJRBAS. 
 I 
 
 Rev J. E. Darras is a French writer of eminence. The following 
 is taken from his "General History of the Church," which has been 
 tmnslflted into English, and enriched with a learned Introduction and 
 Notes, by the Most Rev. M. J. Spalding, D.D., -Archbishop of Baltimore. 
 It is a work of great abiUty and research, and is written in a very 
 clear and captivating style. 
 
 1. Whilst tliis great pontiff thus brought back peace 
 and uuity of faith to the Church in the East, he had in 
 the West checked the onward course of the fierce king 
 of the Huns,* who was pushing on his victorious hordes 
 over the ruins of the Bo man world. 
 
 2. Attila, the most formidable mower of tnen who 
 had yet led on the barbarian invaders, seemed boru 
 for the terror of the world. He had come originally 
 from the forests of Tartary,^ and his destiny appeared 
 to be attended by something inexpHcably^ terrific, 
 which made a fearful impression upon the generality 
 
70 THE FIFTH RFADEil. 
 
 of men. His gait and carriage were full of pride and 
 haughtiness ; the movements of his body and the roll- 
 ing of his eyes spoke his conscious power. His short 
 *tature, broad chest, and still larger head, thin beard, 
 and swarthy features, plainly told his origin. His 
 capital was a camp in the fields by the Danube.* The 
 kings he had conquered kept guard by turns at the 
 door of his tent. His own table was set with wooden 
 platters and coarse food, whilst his soldiers sported 
 with gold and silver vases. 
 
 3. Enthroned upon a low stool, the Tartar chief re- 
 ceived the ambassadors of Yalentinian IH. and Theo- 
 dosius the Younger, whose credulity he deceived in a 
 manner that would have done credit to the most prac- 
 ticed courtier of Constantinople or of Rome. He said 
 of himself with savage energy : " The star falls, the 
 earth trembles ; I am the hammer of the universe. 
 The grass never grows again where Attila's hoi'se has 
 once trod." He claimed the ofiicial title of Samrge of 
 God. 
 
 4. The two emperors of Ravenna'' and of Constan- 
 tinople'' thought to stop the barbarian at their gates, 
 by allowing him the title of General of the Empire, and 
 allowmg him a tribute which they regarded as his pay. 
 The Hun remarked on this subject : " The generals of 
 emperors are servants ; Attila's servants are emperors." 
 He one day sent two Goths, one to Theodosius II., tlie 
 other to Valen tinian HI. , with this message ; " Attila, 
 
THE riFTn READKR. 71 
 
 my master and jours, orders you to prepare liiin a 
 palace." This meant an invasion. 
 
 5, Dragging along with him a train of tributary 
 piinces and five hundred thousand barbarians, he 
 crossed the Khine and pushed on through the pro- 
 vinces of Gaul (a. d. 451). Several of its cities were 
 given up to pillage and to the violence of an unbridled 
 soldiery. 
 
 6. Metz had provoked a redder vengeance by a 
 longer resistance, and saw its streets flowing with the 
 blood of the greater part of its inhabitants. The sur- 
 vivors, with their bishop, were led away captives, and 
 the city, given up to the flames, was soon but a heap 
 of ashes. Troyes was threatened with the same fate. 
 Its holy bishop. Lupus, importuned the mercy of God 
 by his ceaseless prayers, tears, fasts, and good wr"ks. 
 At length, inspired with a supernatural confidenct, he 
 goes forth in full pontifical attire, to meet the bar- 
 barian, and asks him : " Who art thou that dost over- 
 come so many kings and nations, ruin so many cltieH, 
 and subdue the world V" Attila replied : " I am King 
 vf the Huns, the Scourge of God /" " If thou art the 
 scourge of my God," returned the bishop, " remember 
 to do only what is allowed thee by the hand that 
 moves and governs thee." Attila, astonished at the 
 boldness of this address, and awed by the majesty oi 
 tJie holy prelate, promised to spare the city, and passed 
 through it without doing it any harm. 
 
/. THE FirrH READER. 
 
 \ In Paris, such was the dismay that the inhabit 
 tanttf wore preparing to leave the city, with tlieir wives 
 and children, to seek the protection of some more 
 strongly fortified place. St. Genevieve, the hnmblo 
 virgin of Nanterre, became the patroness and mother 
 of the city. She restored the failing courage, provided 
 for every want, procured means of subsistence for the 
 affrighted multitude, and promised, in the name of 
 Heaven, that Attila should not approach the walls of 
 Paris. 
 
 8. In effect, Attila, suddenly changing the direction 
 of his march, fell with his savage hordes, upon the city 
 of Orleans. This city, which seemed marked out for 
 miraculous deliverances, was then governed by the 
 holy Bishop St. Aignan, to whom it owed its safety 
 He had been able to go to Aries and solicit help from 
 ^tius, the Roman general. Just as Orleans was on 
 the point of opening its gates to the besiegers, the 
 combined armies of ^tius and Theodoric, king of the 
 Visigoths, came within sight of its walls. Attila, foam- 
 ing with rage, raised the siege, and in the plain of 
 Chalons sought a field in which he could display his 
 forces and meet his opponents. 
 
 9. The confederates counted a body of Franks com- 
 manded by their Prince Meroveus. The two armies, 
 now encamped face lo face, numbered about a million 
 warriors They met • and then ensued one of the 
 bloodiest battles that crimson the pages of history. 
 
THE FIFTH UEADElt. 73 
 
 Th.-^e hundred thousand slain encumbered the fiekl ; 
 a little neighboring stream was swelled like a torrent 
 by the quantity of blood that flowed into its channel. 
 Theodoric fell, but his valor had won the victory for 
 the allies. Attila was utterly defeated, and recrossed 
 the Ehine in hasty flight. 
 
 10. In the following year (a.d. 452) he reappeared, 
 moro formidable than ever, on the borders of Italy, 
 leaving Pannonia' and Noricum' wasted by fire and 
 sword. Yalentinian III. made a precipitate retreat 
 from Ravenna, and hastened to seek shelter within the 
 walls of Eome. Attila besieged and destroyed the 
 cities of Aquileia, Padua, Yerona, Vicenza, Brescia, 
 and Bergamo; Milan and Pavia^ were given up to 
 pillage. 
 
 11. The Hun pushed on amid the smoking rums of 
 the conquered cities, and halted near Mantua, on the 
 banks of the Mincio** ; the terrified inhabitants fled at 
 his approach, and sought, in the marshes where Venice 
 now stands, a refuge from the violence of the vic- 
 torious barbarians. The last hour of the Roman Em- 
 pire seemed at hand; St. Leo succeeded in wn-idin;^ 
 off the threatened ruin. He appeared before Attila as 
 the ambassador of Heaven, as a herald of peace. 
 
 12. The two great sovereignties of the Word and 
 the Sword stood face to face ; and the Sword bowed 
 
 • Cities of Italy. 
 
74 
 
 THE 1 Ifl'H READER. 
 
 before the majesty of the GospeL Attila was a'ved by 
 the bearing of the great pontiff whose fame had 
 reached the remote borders of Tartary, and he lent a 
 favorable ear to his propositions ; qnitting the soil of 
 Italy, he withdrew across the Danube, where death 
 suddenly snatched him from the midst of his plans of 
 destruction (a d 453 ). On his return from the suc- 
 cessful embassy, the pope was received in triumph, 
 and the enthusiastic people bestowed upon him the 
 title of Great. 
 
 > Huns, a people of Northern Asia, 
 
 who had conquered and taken 
 possession of the Grerman prov- 
 inces north of the Danube. 
 
 • Tab'-ta-ey, a vast extent of coun- 
 
 try in Asia, bordering on the 
 Asiatic Provinces of Russia, on 
 Persia, Thibet and the Chinese 
 Empire. 
 
 > In-ex-plic'-a-blt, in a manner 
 
 not to be explained. 
 Dan-tjbe, a large river of South- 
 em Europe. 
 
 • BATEai'-NA, a city of Italy, for- 
 
 merly the residence of the Bo- 
 man Emperors. 
 
 6 CoN-STAN-Ti-NO-PLE, the present 
 capital of Turkey, was formerly 
 the capital and residence of the 
 Emperors of the East. 
 
 ' Pan-no-nia', the ancient Panno- 
 nia was a considerable territory 
 in the southern part of Europe. 
 
 * Nor'-i-oum, that part of South 
 Germany between the Save and 
 the Danube. 
 
 9 MiN-ci-o, a river of Italy. 
 
 U.— THE TYEANT AND THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 ADELAIDE A. PEOCTOE. 
 
 1. It was midnight when I listened. 
 And I heard two Voices speak 
 One was harsh, and stero, and cruel, 
 And the other soft and weak : 
 
THE FIFTH KEADER. 75 
 
 Yet I saw no Vision enter, 
 
 And I lieard no steps depart, 
 Of this tyrant and his captive — 
 
 Fate it might be and a Heart 
 
 2. Thus the stern Yoice spake in triumph 
 
 "I have shut your life away 
 From the radiant world of nature. 
 
 And the perfumed light of day. 
 You, who loved to steep your spirit 
 
 In the charm of Earth's delight, 
 See no glory of the daytime. 
 
 And no sweetness of the night." 
 
 3. But the soft Yoice answered cal|ply: 
 
 " Nay, for when the March winds bring 
 Just a whisper to my window, 
 
 I can dream the rest of Spring; 
 And to-day I saw a swallow 
 
 Flitting past my prison bars, 
 And my cell has just one corner 
 
 Whence at night I see the stars. " 
 
 4. But its bitter taunt repeating, 
 
 Cried the harsh Voice : " Where are ti oy 
 All the friends of former hours, 
 
 Who forget your name to-day? 
 All the links of love are shattered. 
 
 Which you thought so strong before ; 
 And your very heart is lonely. 
 
 And alone, since loved no more." 
 
76 TUK FIFTH EEADER. 
 
 5. But the low Voice spoke still lower: 
 
 "Nay, I know the golden chain 
 Of my love is purer, stronger, 
 
 For the cruel fire of pain : 
 They remember me no longer, 
 
 But I, grieving here alone. 
 Bind their souls to me forever 
 
 By the love within my own." 
 
 6. But the Voice cried : " Once remember 
 
 You devoted soul and mind 
 To the welfare of your brethren, 
 
 And the service of your kind. 
 Now, v^hat sorrow can you comfort? 
 
 You, who lie in helpless pain, 
 "With an impotent compassion 
 
 Fretting out your life in vain." 
 
 7. "Nay;" and then the gentle answer 
 
 Bose more loud and full and clear ; 
 " For the sake of all my brethren, 
 
 I thank God that I am here! 
 Poor had been my Life's best efforts. 
 
 Now I waste no thought or breath — 
 For the prayer of those who suffer 
 
 Has the strength of Love and Death." 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 77 
 
 in. -ALFRED THE GREAT. 
 
 COIililEE. 
 
 1. There was a race of men, commonly called tho 
 Danes, but more correctly known as the Norsemen, 
 who affected the history of all Western Europe, and 
 especially the history of England, to an immense ex- 
 tent. They were something of the Saxon type — fierce, 
 fair-haired warriors, whose eyes darted blue lightning, 
 and whose chief weapons were the ax and the wai-- 
 hammer. Their favorite plan was to push up the 
 rivers in their light vessels, which were painted and 
 gilt to represent dragons, and so to penetrate a land 
 very deeply and ravage it very cruelly. "When they 
 came to a town, they killed the people, carried off the 
 wealth, and burned the houses to the ground. They 
 carried a banner, on which the image of a huge raven 
 was displayed in dark and terrible colors. They had a 
 particular grudge against the Saxons, because the latter, 
 for the most part, had abandoned heathenism and be- 
 come Christians. 
 
 2. The man who most bravely and successfully 
 fought against the Danes, was born about sixty years 
 after they began to plunder tho English shore. This 
 was Alfred, the son of EthulwuJf and Osberga, and is 
 celebrated in history as Alfred the Great Eew kings, 
 M'ho have borne that additional name, have deserved it 
 so well. From his earliest days Alfred showed signs 
 of ability far beyond what is common. A story is told 
 
70 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 ot his cliildliood, which, though not certainly true, may 
 ^iid a place in this book. 
 
 3. One day his mother, or rather his stepmother, 
 showed Alfred and his brothers a book of Saxon poetry, 
 bordered and adorned with very beautiful paintings or 
 illuminations, as they wore then called, and promised 
 to give the precious manuscript to whichever of the 
 Doyi would repeat the poetry best. Alfred, aged 
 abo it six, won the prize with some help from his tutor. 
 But when Alfred came to the throne in his twenty- 
 seco: \d year, he ran the risk at first of souring and dis- 
 pleaf ing his subjects by ruling them too harshly, and 
 forcii ig new laws too violently upon them. 
 
 4. For this reason it was, that when the Danes made 
 an attack by sea upon the southern shore, there were 
 very few men who cared to help Alfred in beating 
 them back; and so the young monarch was driven 
 from his throne to hide himself among the woods and 
 marshes of Somersetshire. This piece of temporary 
 bad fortune did good both to him and to his people. 
 It softened the sternness of his nature, and allowed 
 them time to forget his early harshness. His hiding- 
 place was the Island of Athelney, a little patch of 
 ground covered with alder-trees. A bridge was built 
 over the stream, and here the king lay, hidden but not 
 forgotten, for a whole winter. 
 
 5. It was while he lived in this miserable condition 
 that he found his way ont- day into the cabin of a mai: 
 

 THE FIFTH READER. 76 
 
 that herded oxen. The man was out, but his wife wel- 
 comed the wanderer, and invited him to sit down and 
 warm himself at the fire of logs that crackled in the 
 center of the clay floor. Alfred, who was dressed in 
 the common clothes of a peasant, took out his knife 
 and began to shape a part of his bow that needed trim- 
 ming. The woman asked him to see that the cakes 
 which were baking on the fire did not bum ; but he 
 was either too tired, or too much wrapped in thought, 
 or too much devoted to the shaping of his bow ; for, 
 when she turned again to look, the bread was black 
 and smoking. Little dreaming that she was scolding 
 her king, the herdsman's wife poured out a torrent of 
 shrill abuse, and told the culprit that, although he was 
 lazy in watching the cakes, she was sure he would eat 
 them greedily enough when they were baked. \ 
 
 6. When the news spread quietly among the Saxons 
 of Wessex, that Alfred was living in the swamp of Ath- 
 elney, the young men gathered secretly around him; 
 and, when the white blossoms of the hawthorn came 
 out, he left the island with a little army of brave men. 
 Before engaging in battle, he is said to have taken the 
 very dangerous step of going in a minstrel's dress into 
 the camp of the Danes and playing there, until he was 
 invited to feast with the chief. All the evening he 
 played and sang most skillfully, and the unsuspicious 
 Danes talked in the pauses of the music about their 
 plans and their contempt of the conquered Saxons. 
 
80 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 7. His ear, though he did not seem to listen, caught 
 every word of the boastful talk, which was all the truer 
 and less guarded, when the mead began to affect the 
 soldiers' brains. When the revel was over, the min- 
 strel stole away to the little Saxon hivouac^ in the 
 forest of Selwood, and there made his arangements for 
 a dash upon the Danes. Next day he managed to 
 place his men between the Northmen and their camp 
 which was a round or oval inclosure high upon a hill 
 It was sunset before the battle was decided. The 
 Danes ran away up the sides of the hill and hid them- 
 selves in their camp, where for a fortnight, but no 
 longer, they held out against the assaults of a Saxon 
 army, which grew larger every day. By the battle of 
 Ethandune, as the first encounter is called, Alfred re- 
 gained the throne of Wessex.* 
 
 8. Alfred though tortured by an internal illness, was 
 a most active man. Having invented time-candles 
 which burned down one inch every twenty minutes, 
 and having then made lanterns of horn to keep the 
 draughts from blowing out the lights, he divided his 
 day into three equal parts, one allotted to business, a 
 second to study and worship, and the third to rest and 
 recreation. After a short sleep under a goatskin quilt 
 
 * Egbert and his immediate successors styled themselves ' Kings ot 
 Wessex ;" siuce it was that kingdom which absorbed into itself all the 
 smaller States iu the South, and finally succeeded in making tributary 
 to itself the larger kingdoms of Mercia, East Anglia, and Northum- 
 bria. 
 
TUK YIVTE READEK. 81 
 
 Jio rose vvitli the earliest dawn of summer to his work. 
 A short prayer and a scanty breakfast were his first 
 concerns. After spending some hours in the business 
 of the state, he would mount his horse, and gallop off 
 into the forest after a wild boar or a red deer. Then 
 came dinner and a sleep, after which some more offi- 
 cial work was done. The evening was given to study, 
 dictation, or literary conversation. 
 
 9. We have seen how Alfred suffered in Athelney 
 and triumphed in Ethandune. He inflicted another 
 great defeat upon the Danes before he died. There 
 came to the shore of Kent a fleet that seemed number- 
 less, consisting of more than two hundr:ul ships, and 
 its chief was the great Hastings, the best-known pirate 
 of his day. The Danes landed, and, by forming great 
 intrenched camps, succeeded in holding their ground 
 for a long tim.e. Their principal station, and their last 
 one, was at Ware upon the Lea, whence they threat- 
 ened London on the north. 
 
 10. Alfred came on them at a time when they were 
 just preparing to reap a afield of corn, w^hich some 
 Saxon farmer had sown, but upon which, all the sum- 
 mer, thoy had been casting covetous eyes. We can 
 faintly imagine their rage when they saw one-half of 
 Alfred's force lay down their spears and S(3t to work 
 with sickles on the grain. The reaping, the binding, 
 the carting, were calmly and securely done, while the 
 Danes looked on in helpless rage from their strong 
 
82 THE FIFTH READEK. 
 
 entrencliments, wliicli were utterly useless 1*1 tliis case. 
 Alfred knew well that the Danes depended chiefly on 
 their ships, and that to render them useless would be 
 like robbing Samson of his hair. 
 
 11. Secretly, therefore, but ceaselessly, he set diggers 
 to work upon the banks of the stream, who trenched 
 the land in two long channels, parallel to the natural 
 bed, in whose waters the Danish fleet was floating. 
 When all was ready he cut a way for the river to flow 
 into these artificial troughs, and thus render the stream 
 so shallow that the ships ran aground and fell on their 
 sides, useless, and incapable of being stirred by wind 
 or oar. It was a fatal blow to the pirates, who aban- 
 doned their works, and, scattering over the country, 
 got home with difficulty next year, in some leaky ships 
 which they managed to borrow from the Danes of the 
 eastern coast. Five years after this skillful achieve^ 
 ment Alfred died (901). 
 
 • Biv'-ouAC, (biv'-uak) to watch or be oii gUard as a whole army. 
 
 IV.— THE STORY OF KING ALFRED A>T) SAINT CUTHBERHT. 
 
 I^BEEMAN. 
 
 From Old English History for Children, b'" Edward A. Freeman, M. A 
 
 1. Now King illfred was driven from his kingdom by 
 
 the Danes, and he lay hid for three years in the Isle of 
 
 Glastonbury. And it came to jjass on a day that all 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 8J> 
 
 his folk were gone out to fish, save only Alfred himself, 
 and his wife, and one servant whom he loved. And 
 there came a pilgrim to the king, and begged for food. 
 And the king said to his servant, " What food have we 
 in the house ? '" And his servant answered, " My lord, 
 we have but one loaf and a little wine." Then the king 
 gave thanks to God, and said, " Give half of the loaf 
 and half of the wine to this poor pilgrim." / 
 
 So the servant did as his lord commanded him, and 
 gave to the pilgrim half of the loaf and half of the wine, 
 and the pilgrim gave great thanks to the king. And 
 when the servant returned he found the loaf whole, and 
 the wine as much as there had been aforetime. And 
 he wondered also how the pilgrim came into the isle, 
 for that no man could come there save by water, and 
 the pilgrim had no boat. And the king greatly won- 
 dered also. And at the ninth hour came back the folk 
 who had gone to fish ; and they had three boats full of 
 fish. And they said, " Lo, we have caught more fish 
 this day than in all the three years that we have tarried 
 in this island." 
 
 3. And the king was glad, and he and his folk were 
 merry ; yet he pondered much upon that which had 
 come to pass. And when night came, the king went to 
 his bed with Elizabeth, his wife. And the lady slept, 
 but the king lay awake and thought of all that had 
 come to pass that day. And presently he saw a great 
 light, like the brightness of the Bun, and he saw an old 
 
84 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 man with black hair, clothed in priest's garments, and 
 with a mitre on his head, and holding in his right hand 
 a book of the Gospels, adorned with gold and gems. 
 
 4. And the old man blessed the king, and the king 
 said unto him, " Who art thou?" And he answered, 
 ** Alfred, iny son, rejoice ; for I am he to whom thou 
 didst this day give thine alms, and I am called Cuth- 
 berht, the soldier of Christ. Now be strong and very 
 
 courageous, and be of joyful heart, and hearken dili- 
 gently to the things which I say unto thee ; for hence 
 forth I will be thy shield and thy friend, and I will 
 watch over thee and over thy sons after thee. 
 
 5. "And now I will tell thee what thou must do. 
 Rise up early in the morning, and blow thine horn 
 thrice, that thine enemies may hear it and fear, and by 
 the ninth hour thou shalt have around thee five hun- 
 dred men harnessed for the battle. And this shall be 
 a sign unto thee that thou mayest beheve. And after 
 seven days thou shalt have, by God's gift and my help, 
 all the folk of this land gathered unto thee upon the 
 mount that is called Assandun. And thus shalt thou 
 fight against thine enemies, and doubt not that thou 
 shalt overcome them. 
 
 6. " Be thou therefore glad of heart, and be strong 
 and very courageous, and fear not, for God hath given 
 thine enemies into thine hand. And He hath given 
 thee, also, all this land ^.nd the kingdom of thy fatliers 
 to thee and to thy sons and to thy sons' sons after 
 
THE FIFTH KEADEK. 85 
 
 thee. Be tliou faithful to me and to my folk, because 
 that unto thee is given all the land of Albion. Be thou 
 righteous, because thou art chosen to be the king of 
 all Britain. So may God be merciful unto thee, and I 
 will be thy friend, and none of thine enemies shall ever 
 be able to overcome thee." 
 
 7. Then was king Alfred glad at heart ; and he was 
 strong and very courageous, for that he knew that he 
 would overcome his enemies by the help of God and 
 Saint Cuthberht, his patron. So in the morning he 
 arose, sailed to the land, and blew his horn three times, 
 and when his friends heard it they rejoiced, and when 
 his enemies heard it they feared. And by the ninth 
 hour, according to the word of the Lord, there were 
 gathered unto him five hundred of the bravest and 
 dearest of his friends. 
 
 8. And he spake unto them and told them all that 
 God had said unto him by the mouth of his servant 
 Cuthberht, and he told them that, by the gift of God 
 and by the help of Saint Cuthberht, they would over- 
 come their enemies and win back their own land. And 
 he bade them, as Saint Cuthberht had taught him, to 
 be pious toward God and righteous toward men. And 
 he bade his son Edward, who was by him, to be faith- 
 ful to God and Saint Cuthberht, and so he should 
 always have the victory over his enemies. So the} 
 went forth to battle and smote their enemies, and over- 
 came them ; then king Alfred took the kingdom of all 
 
8H THE FIFTH RP.ADER. 
 
 Britain, and lie ruled well and wisely over the just and 
 the unjust for the rest of his days. 
 
 v.— THE IVOEY CRUCIFIX. 
 
 G. H. MILES. 
 
 George H. Miles, recently deceased (1871), was born in Baltimore. 
 He was a writer of rare talent and high culture, and will always rank 
 high among the poets and prose writers of America. 
 
 1. Within an attic old at Genoa, 
 
 Full many a year, I ween, 
 Had lain a block of ivory. 
 The largest ever seen. 
 
 2. Though wooing centuries had wiled 
 
 Its purity away, 
 • Gaunt Time had made her slender meal, 
 So well it braved decay. 
 
 3. If we must trust Tradition's tongue. 
 
 Some mastodon^ before 
 The wave kissed Ararat's tall peak. 
 The splendid trophy wore. 
 
 4. Certes, no elephant e'er held 
 
 Aloft so rich a prize, 
 Not India's proudest jungle boasts 
 A tusk of half the size. 
 
 5. A Monk obtained and to his cell 
 
 The relic rare conveyed. 
 And bending o'er the uncouth block 
 This Mouk, communing/ said : 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 6. " Be mine the liappj task by day 
 
 And through the midnight's gloom, 
 To toil, and still toil on, until 
 This shapeless mass assume. 
 
 7. " The form of Him who on the Cross 
 
 For us poured forth his blood : 
 Thus man shall ever venerate 
 This relic of the flood. 
 
 8. " Though now a witness to the wrath 
 
 Of the dread God above, 
 Changed by my chisel, it shall be 
 The emblem^ of His love." 
 
 9. That night when on his pallet stretched, 
 
 As slumber o'er him stole, 
 A glorious vision brightly broke 
 Upon his ravished* soul. 
 
 10. He sees his dear Redeemer stand 
 
 On Calvary's sacred hight 
 The Crucifixion is renewed 
 Before his awe-struck sight. 
 
 11. He sees his Saviour's pallid cheek 
 
 With pitying tears impearled, 
 He hears his dying accents bless 
 A persecuting world : 
 
;^8 
 
 TfJE FIFTH RILVDER. 
 
 1 2. Sees the last look of love supreme 
 
 Conquering each aching sense, 
 Superior to agony 
 Its deep benevolence. 
 
 13. The matin has pealed — the Monk 
 
 Starts from his brief repose , 
 But still before his waking eye 
 The vivid dream arose. 
 
 14. His morning orisons'^ are paid, 
 
 His hand the chisel wields, 
 Slowly before the eager steel 
 The stubborn ivory yields 
 
 15. The ancient block is crusted o'er 
 
 With a coating hard and gray, 
 But soon the busy chisel doffs 
 This mantle of decay. 
 
 id. And now, from every blemish freed, 
 Upon his kindling eye, 
 In all its pristine^ beauty, dawns 
 The milk-white ivory. 
 
 * Mas'-to-don, a huge quadruped, 
 now extinct. 
 
 « CojM-mtjn'-ing, holding conversa- 
 tion with. 
 
 « Em-blkm, a picture or represen- 
 
 tation imaging forth a truth. 
 4 Kav'-ish-eb, transported wilk 
 
 delight. 
 * Ob'-i-sons, prayers. 
 ^ Peis'-tine, original. 
 
Tni FIFTH READ Kit. 89 
 
 VL— THE IVORY CRUCIFIX. 
 
 CONTINUED. 
 
 1. The sun arose, the sun went down, 
 
 Arose, and set again, 
 But still the Monk his chisel plies — 
 Oh, must he toil in vain ? 
 
 2. Not his the highly cultured touch 
 
 That bade the marble glow, 
 And with a hundred statues linked 
 The name of Angelo. 
 
 3. Perchance some tiny image he 
 
 Had fashioned oft before. 
 But art had ne'er to him unveiled 
 Her closely hoarded lore. 
 
 4. A faithful hand, an eye possessed 
 
 Of genius' inborn beam, 
 Or inspiration's loftier light, 
 Must body forth his dream. 
 
 6. The moon has filled her fickle orb, 
 The moon is on the w^ane, 
 A crescent now she sails the sky, 
 And now is full again. 
 
 6. But bending o'er that Ivory block 
 The Monk is kneeling there. 
 Full half his time to toil is given, 
 And half is spent in prayer. 
 
90 THE FIFTH READEll. 
 
 7. Four years elapsed before the Monk 
 
 Threw his worn chisel by ; 
 Complete at last before him lies 
 The living ivory. 
 
 8. His dream at last is bodied forth,. 
 
 And to the world is given 
 A sight that well may wean the soul 
 From earth awhile in heaven. 
 
 9. The dying look of love supreme 
 
 Conquering each aching sense, 
 Unquenched by burning pain, reveals 
 Its vast benevolence. 
 
 10. Behold tliat violated cheek 
 
 With pitying tears impearled, 
 The parting lips that seem to bless 
 A persecuting world. 
 
 11. Has not the light of page inspired 
 
 A true reflection here. 
 Does not the sacrifice of love 
 In ivory reappear ? 
 
 12 Is not the Evangel's sacred page 
 Translated here as well 
 As any human alphabet 
 Its glorious truths can tell ? 
 
THE FIFTH READ Eli. 91 
 
 13. Ye "who would fain mj gaze prevent, 
 Conceal tlie Gospel too : 
 The mystery recorded there 
 Is here but told anew. 
 
 Vn.— THE CHUKGH. 
 
 MACAUIiAY. 
 
 Lord Macaulay was a gifted essayist, and a poet of no mean preten- 
 tions. He is best known, however, as the author of a History of Eng- 
 land, which he did not live to cr mplete, and which betrays, frequently, 
 stxong Anti-Cathohc prejudices. 
 
 1. There is not, and there never was, on this earth, a 
 work of human policy so well deserving of examination 
 as the Eoman Catholic Church. The history of that 
 Church joins together the two great ages of human 
 civilization. No other institution is left standing 
 which carries the mind back to the times when the 
 smoke of sacrifice rose from the Pantheon, and when 
 camelopards and tigers bounded in the Slavian amphi- 
 theater. 
 
 2. The proudest royal houses are but of yesterday, 
 when compared with the line of the Supreme Pontiffs. 
 That line we trace back in an unbroken series from the 
 Pope who crowned Napoleon, in the nineteenth cen- 
 tury, to the Pope who crowned Pepin in the eighth ; 
 and far beyond the time of Pepin the august dynasty 
 extends, till it is lost in the twilight of fable The re- 
 public of Venice came next in antiquity. But the re- 
 
92 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 public of Yenice was modern when compared with the 
 Papacy ; and the repubHc of Yenice is gone, and the 
 Papacy remains. The Papacy remains not in decay, 
 not a mere antique, but full of life and youthful vigor. 
 
 o. The Catholic Church is still senduig forth to the 
 farther ends of the world missionaries as zealous as 
 those who landed in Kent with Augustin ; and still con- 
 fronting hostile kings with the same spirit with which 
 she confronted Attila. The number of her children is 
 greater than in any former I'ge. Her acquisitions in 
 the New "World have more than compensated her for 
 what she has lost in the Old. Her spiritual ascen- 
 dency extends over the vast countries which lie be- 
 tween the plains of Missouri and Cape Horn ; coun- 
 tries which, a century hence, may not improbably, con- 
 tain a population as large as that which now inhabits 
 Europe. 
 
 4. The members of her community are certainly not 
 fewer than one hundred and fifty millions : and it will 
 be difficult to show that all the other Christian sects 
 united amount to a hundred and twenty millions. Nor 
 do we see any sign which indicates that the term of her 
 long (dominion is approaching. 
 
 5. She saw the commencement of all the governments 
 and of all the ecclesiastical establishments that now 
 exist in the world ; and we feel no assurance that she 
 is not destined to see the end of them all. She was 
 great and respected before the Saxon had set foot ou 
 
THE FIFTH RE^VDER. 93 
 
 Britain — before the Frank had passed the Rhine — 
 when Grecian eloquence still flourished at Antioch — 
 when idols were still worshiped in the temple of Mecca. 
 And she may still exist in undiminished vigor when 
 some traveler from New Zealand shall, in the midst of 
 a vast solitude, take his stand on a broken arch of 
 London bridge to sketch the ruins of St. Pauls'. 
 
 VnL— THE OHUECH. —Continued. 
 
 MACAXJIiAY. 
 
 1. Is it not strange that in the year 1799 even saga- 
 cious observers should have thought that at length the 
 hour of the Church of Eome had come ? An infidel 
 power ascendant — the Pope dying in captivity — the 
 most illustrious prelates of France living in a foreign 
 country on Protestant alms — the noblest edifices which 
 the munificence of former ages had consecrated to the 
 worship of God turned into temples of victory, or into 
 banquetting-houses for political societies, or into Theo- 
 philanthropic^ chapels — such signs might well be sup- 
 posed to indicate the approaching end of that long 
 domination. 
 
 2. But the end was not yet. Again doomed to 
 death, the milk-white hind was fated not to die. Even 
 before the funeral rites had been performed over the 
 ashes of Pius the Sixth, a great reaction had com- 
 menced, which, after the lapse of more than forty years 
 
94 THE FIFTH REaDEK. 
 
 appears to be still in progress. Anartjhy had its day 
 A new order of things rose out of confusion — new 
 dynasties, new laws, new titles ; and amidst them 
 emerged the ancient religion. The Arabs had a fable 
 that the great pyramid was built by the antediluvian 
 kings, and alone of all the works of men, bore the 
 weight of the flood. 
 
 3. Such was the fall of the Papacy. Tt had been 
 buried under the great inundation, but its deep founda- 
 tions had remained unshaken ; and when the waters 
 abated, it appeared alone amidst the ruins of a world 
 which had passed away. The repubhc of Holland was 
 gone, and the empire of Germany, and the Great 
 Council of Venice, and the old Helvetian League, and 
 the House of Bourbon, and the ParHaments and aristo- 
 cracy of France. 
 
 4. Europe was full of young creations — a French 
 empire, a kingdom of Italy, a Confederation of the 
 Ehine. Nor had the late events afiected only the ter- 
 ritorial limits and political institutions. The distribu- 
 tion of property, the composition and spirit of society, 
 bad, through a great part of Catholic Europe, under- 
 gone a complete change. But the unchangeable Church 
 was still there. 
 
 > The-o-phi-lan -throp -ic, a title I olution. Their object was to ch- 
 assumed by some persons in tablish infidelity in the place of 
 France during the French Eev- I Christianity. 
 
•lilE EII'TH READER. 95 
 
 IX. - -Ox>^ CONVERSATION. 
 
 William Cowper, a distinguished English Poet, was born in 1731, 
 Rud ilwl in 1800. His first volume of poems, published wnen he vvtia 
 over fifty years old, did not attract much attention. TJut his "Task," 
 published two years later, attained a wide popularity, and establishvxi 
 bis position as ft poet. 
 
 Though Nature weigh our talents, and dispense 
 To every man his modicum of sense, 
 And conYer&ation, in his better part, 
 Mav be esteemed a gift, and not an art, 
 Yet much depends^ as in the tiller*s toil, 
 On culture and the sowing of the soil. 
 Words learned by rote a parrot may reh«ais<^. 
 But talking is not alwa-y? to converse ; 
 Not more distinct from harmony divine, 
 The constant creaking of a country sign. 
 
 Ye powers, who rule the tongue, — if znch th<>r6 
 are, — 
 And make colloquial happiness your care, 
 Preserve me from the thing I dread and bat* 
 A duel in the form of a debate. 
 Vociferated logic kills me quite ; 
 A noisy man is always in the right ; 
 I twirl my thumbs, fall back into my chair. 
 Fix on the wainscot a distressful stare, 
 And, when I hope his blunders are all out, 
 Keply discreetly, " To be sure, no doubt !'* 
 
96 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Duhius is such a scrupulous, good man ; 
 Yes, jou may catch him tripping if you can. 
 He would not, with a peremptory tone. 
 Assert the nose upon his face his own ; 
 "With hesitation admirably slow, 
 He humbly hopes, presumes , it may be so. 
 His evidence, if he were called by law 
 To swear to some enormity he saw, 
 For want of prominence and just relief, 
 Would hang an honest man, and save a thief. 
 Through constant dread of giving truth offense. 
 He ties up all his hearers in suspense ; 
 Knows what he knows as if he knew it not 
 What he remembers seems to have forgot ; 
 His sole opinion, whatsoe'er befall, 
 Centering, at last, in having none at all. 
 
 A story, in which native humor reigns. 
 Is often useful, always entertains : 
 A graver fact, enlisted on your side, 
 May furnish illustration, well applied : 
 But sedentary weavers of long tales 
 Give me the fidgets, and my patience fails. 
 'Tis the most asinine employ on earth. 
 To hear them tell of parentage and birth, 
 And echo coversations, dull and dry. 
 Embellished with, " He said," and " So said I." 
 
THE FIFTB HEADER. SW 
 
 At every interview their route the same, 
 The repetition makes attention lame : 
 We bustle up, with unsuccesssful speed. 
 And, in the saddest part, cry, " Droll indeed I" 
 
 I pity bashful men, who feel the pain 
 Of fancied scorn and undeserved disdain, 
 And bear the marks, upon a blushing face, 
 Of needless shame, and self-imposed disgrace. 
 Our sensibilities are so acute. 
 The fear of being silent makes us mute, , 
 True modesty is a discerning grace. 
 And only blushes in the proper place ; 
 But counterfeit is blind, and skulks through fear, 
 Where 'tis a shame to be ashamed t' appear ; 
 HumiHty the parent of the first, 
 The last by vanity produced and nursed. 
 
 The circle formed, we sit in state, 
 Like figures drawn upon a dia^ -ulate ; 
 " Yes, ma'am," and " No, ma'am, ' uttered softlj 
 
 show. 
 Every five minutes, how the minutes go ; 
 Each individual, suffering a constraint 
 Poetry may, but colors cannot paint, 
 As if in close committee on the sky. 
 Reports it hot or cold, or wet or dry ; 
 And finds a changing clime a happy source 
 Of wise reflection and well-timed discourse. 
 
THE FIPPH HEADER. 
 
 "We next inquire, but softlj, and by stealth, 
 
 Lite conservators of the public health, 
 
 Of epidemic throats, if such there are. 
 
 And coughs, and rheums, and phthisics, and 
 
 catarrh. 
 That theme exhausted, a wide gap ensues, 
 Filled up, at last, with interesting news. 
 
 And now, let no man charge me that I mean 
 To clothe in sable every social scene ; 
 To find a medium asks some share of wit, 
 And therefore 'tis a mark fools never hit. 
 
 X.— THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. 
 
 JANE TATLOB. 
 
 1. An old clock, that had stood for fifty years in a 
 farmer's kitchen w'inout giving its owner any cause of 
 complaint, early one summer's morning, before the 
 family was stirring, suddenly stopped. 
 
 2. Upon this the dial-plate, (if we may credit the 
 fable,) changed countenance with alarm ; the hands 
 made an ineffectual effort to continue their course ; the 
 wheels remained motionless with surprise ; the weights 
 hung speechless ; each member felt disposed to lay the 
 blame on the others. At length the dial instituted a 
 
THE riFJH EEADER. 99 
 
 formal ioquirj as to the cause of the stagnation ; wheK 
 hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested theii 
 innocence. * But now a faint tick was heard below, from 
 the pendulum, who thus spoke : 
 
 3. " I confess myself to be the sole cause of the pre- 
 sent stoppage, and am willing, for the general satisfac- 
 tion, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am 
 tired of ticking.*' Upon hearing this, the old clock be- 
 came so enraged that it was on the point of striking. 
 
 " Lazy wire !" exclaimed the dial-plate, holding up 
 its hands. 
 
 4. " Very good," replied the pendulum ; " it is vastly 
 easy for you. Mistress Dial, who have always, as every- 
 body knows, set yourself up above me — it is vastly easy 
 for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness ; you, 
 who have had nothing to do all the days of your life 
 but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself 
 with watching all that goes on in the kitchen. Think, 
 I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for 
 life in this dark closet, and wag backwards and for- 
 wards, year after year, as I do." 
 
 5. " As to that," said the dial, " is there not a win- 
 dow in your house on purpose for you to look through?" 
 
 " For all that," resumed the pendulum, " it is very 
 dark here ; and although there is a window, I dare not 
 stop, even for an instant, to look out. Besides, I am 
 really weary of my way of life ; and if you please, I'll 
 tell you how I took this disgust at my employment 
 
100 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 This morning I happened to be calculating how many 
 times I should have to tick in the course only of the 
 next twenty-four hours : perhaps some ot. you, above 
 there, can give me the exact sum." 
 
 6. The minute-hand, being quick at figures, instant- 
 ly replied, " eighty-six thousand four hundred times." 
 
 " Exactly so," replied the pendulum. " Well, I ap- 
 peal to you all if the thought of this was not enough to 
 fatigue one. And when I began to multiply the strokes 
 of one day by those of months and years, really it is no 
 wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect : so, after 
 a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to 
 myself, I'll stop." 
 
 7. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance dur- 
 ing this harangue ; but, resuming its gravity, thus re- 
 plied : 
 
 " Dear Mr. Pendumm, I am really astonished that so 
 useful and industrious a person as you are should have 
 been overcome by this sudden suggestion. It is true 
 you have done a great deal of work in your time. So 
 have we all, and are likely to do ; and, although this 
 may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it 
 will fatigue us to do. Would you, now, do me the favor 
 to give about half-a-dozen strokes, to illustrate my ar- 
 gument ?" 
 
 8. The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at 
 its usual pace. 
 
 " Now," resumed the dial, " may I be allowed to in- 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 101 
 
 quire, if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagree- 
 able to you ?' 
 
 " Not in the least," replied the pendulum ; " it is not 
 of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of mil- 
 lions." 
 
 9. " Very good," replied the dial ; " but recollect that 
 although you may think of a million strokes in an in- 
 stant, you are required to execute but one; and that, 
 however often you may hereafter have to swing, a mo- 
 ment will always be given you to swing in." 
 
 "That consideration staggers me, I confess," said 
 the pendulum. 
 
 "Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, "we shall 
 all immediately return to our duty ; for the maids will 
 lie in bed till noon if we stand idling thus." 
 
 10. Upon this, the weights, who had never been ac- 
 cused of light conduct, used all their influence in urg- 
 ing him to proceed ; when, as with one consent, the 
 wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the 
 pendulum began to wag, and, to its credit, ticked as 
 loud as ever; and a beam of the rising sun that 
 streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shining 
 full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up as if nothing 
 had been the matter. 
 
 11. When the farmer came down to breakfast that 
 morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared that 
 his watch had gained half an hour in the night. 
 
102 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 12. Moral. — It is said by a celebrated modem wri- 
 ter, "Take care of the minutes, and the hours will 
 take care of themselves." This is an admirable hint, 
 and might be very seasonably recollected when we 
 begin to be " weary in well-doing," from the thought of 
 having a great deal to do. The present is all we have 
 to manage : the past is irrecoverable ; the future is un- 
 certain ; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the 
 weight of the next. Sufficient unto the moment is the 
 trouble thereof. If we had to walk a hundred miles, 
 we still need set but one step at a time, and this pro- 
 cess, continued, would infallibly bring us to our jour- 
 ney's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always 
 increased, by calculating in a minute the exertion of 
 hours. 
 
 13. Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us 
 recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to en- 
 dure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses, at 
 once. One moment comes laden with its own little 
 burden, then flies, and is succeeded by another no 
 heavier than the last : if one could be sustained, so can 
 another, and another. 
 
 14. Even in looking forward to a single day, the 
 spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the 
 duties, the labors, the trials to temper and patience, 
 that may be expected. Now, this is unjustly laying 
 the burden of many thousand moments upon one. 
 Let any one resolve to do right now, leaving then to 
 
THE FIFTH READER, 103 
 
 flo as it can, and if he were to live to the age of Me- 
 thuselah, he would never err. But the common error 
 is, to resolve to act right to-morrow, or next time ; but 
 now, just this once, we must go on the same as ever. 
 
 15. It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to- 
 day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow 
 comes, then will be now. Thus life passes, with many, 
 in resolutions for the future which the present never 
 fulfills. 
 
 16. It is not thus with those who, " by patient con- 
 tinuance in well-doing, seek for glory, honor, and im- 
 mortality." Day by day, minute by minute, they exe- 
 cute the appointed task to which the requisite measure 
 of time and strength is proportioned : and thus, hav- 
 ing worked while it was called day, they at length rest 
 from their labors, and their works " follow them." 
 
 17. Let us, then, " whatever our hands find to do, do 
 it with all our might," recollecting thai now is the 
 proper and accepted time. 
 
 XI.— THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 1. Somewhat back from the village street 
 Stands the old-fashioned country-seat ; 
 Across its antique portico, 
 Tall poplar- trees their shadows throw ; 
 
104 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 And fi'om its station in the hall, 
 An ancient timepiece says to all, — 
 
 " Forever — never ! 
 
 Never — forever !" 
 
 2. Halfway up the stairs it stands, 
 
 And points and beckons with its hands 
 From its case of massive oak, 
 Like a monk, who, under his cloak, 
 Crosses himself, and sighs, alas ! 
 • With sorrowful voice to all that pass, — 
 
 " Forever — never ! 
 
 Never — forever I" 
 
 3. By day its voice is low and light ; 
 But in the silent dead of night. 
 Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, 
 It echoes along the vacant haU, 
 Along the ceiling, along the floor. 
 
 And seems to say, at each chamber door,— 
 
 " Forever — never ! 
 
 Never — forever.' 
 L Through days of sorrow and of mirth. 
 Through days of death and days of birth. 
 Through every swift vicissitude 
 Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, 
 And as if, like God, it all things saw, 
 It calmly repeats those words of awe, — 
 
 " Forever — never ! 
 
 Never — forever !" 
 
THE FIFl'H READER. 105 
 
 5. In that mansion used to be 
 Free-hearted hospitality ; 
 
 His great fires up the chimney roared : 
 The stranger feasted at his board ; 
 But, like the skeleton at the feast, 
 That warning timepiece never ceased, — 
 
 " Forever — never ! 
 
 Never — forever !" 
 
 6. There groups of merry children played ; 
 There youths and maidens dreaming strayed. 
 O precious hours ! O golden prime. 
 
 And affluence of love and time ! 
 
 Even as a miser counts his gold. 
 
 Those hours the ancient timepiece told, — 
 
 " Forever— never ! 
 
 Never — forever !" 
 
 7. From that chamber, clothed in white. 
 
 The bride came forth on her wedding night ; 
 There, in that silent room below. 
 The dead lay in his shroud of snow ; 
 And in the hush that followed prayer, 
 Was heard that old clock on the stair,* - 
 
 " Forever — never ! 
 
 Never — forever !" 
 
 8. All are scattered now and fled, 
 Some are married, some are dead ; 
 And when I ask, with throbs ol pain, 
 
 " Ah ! when shall they all meet again ?" 
 
106 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 As Id tlie days long since gone by, 
 The ancient timepiece makes reply, — 
 
 " Forever — never I 
 
 Never— forever I" 
 
 9. Never here, forever there, 
 
 Where all parting, pain and care, 
 And death and time shall disappear,- 
 Forever there, but never here I 
 The horologe of eternity 
 Sayeth this incessantly, — 
 
 " Forever — never 1 
 
 Never — forever I" 
 
 Xn.— RIP VAN WINKLE. 
 
 The following extract is from " Rip Van "Winkle," one of the papers 
 in " The Sketch Book." Rip is an indolent, good-humored fellow, 
 living in a village on the Hudson Rivei. vVhile shooting among the 
 Catskill Mountains, he meets with a mysterious party engaged in roll- 
 ing ninepins, drinks deeply of the Uquor they furnish him, and falls 
 into a sleep which lasts twenty years, during which our Revolutionary 
 War takes place. After waking, he returns to the village, which Ua 
 finds busied with an election. 
 
 1 . He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old r(;- 
 sort, the village inn — but it too was gone. A large, 
 rickety wooden building stood in its place, with great 
 gaping windows, some of them broken, and mended 
 with old hats and petticoats, and over the door was 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 107 
 
 painted, '' The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle.' 
 Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet 
 little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall 
 naked pole, with something on the top that looked like 
 a red nightcap, and from it was flattering a flag, on 
 which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes — 
 all this was strange and incomprehensible. 
 
 2. He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face 
 of King George, under which he had smoked so many 
 a peaceful pipe ; but even this was singularly metam- 
 orphosed. The red coat was changed for one of blue 
 and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead of a 
 scepter, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, 
 and underneath was painted in large characters, Gen- 
 eral Washington. 
 
 3. There was, as usual, a crowd about the door, but 
 none that Eip recollected. The very character of the 
 people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, 
 disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed 
 phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. 
 
 4. He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, 
 with his broad face, double chin, and fair loDg pipe, 
 uttering clouds of tobacco smoke instead of idle 
 speeches; or Van-Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling? 
 forth the contents of an ancient newspaper In place 
 of these, a lean, bilious looking fellow, with his pockets 
 fall of handbills, was haranguing vehemently, about 
 rghts of citizens — elections — members of congress — 
 
108 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 liberty — Bunker's hill — heroes of severtfcy-six — aod 
 other words, which were a perfect Babylonish jargon 
 to the bewildered Van Winkle. 
 
 5. The appearance of Rip, with his long grizzled 
 beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and 
 an army of women and children at his heels, soon at- 
 tracted the attention of the tavern politicians. They 
 crowded round him, eyeing him from head to foot with 
 great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, 
 drawing him partly aside, inquired " on which side he 
 voted?" 
 
 6. Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short 
 but busy httle fellow pulled him by the arm, and rising 
 on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, " whether he was Federal 
 or Democrat ? " Rip was equally at a loss to compre- 
 hend the question ; when a knowing, self-important old 
 gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through 
 the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his 
 elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van 
 Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his 
 cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it 
 were, into his very soul, demanded, in an austere tone, 
 " what brought him to the election with a gun on his 
 shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he 
 meant to breed a riot in the village ? " 
 
 7. "Alas! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, 
 " I am a poor quiet man, a native of the pl^ce, and a 
 loyal subject of the King, God bless him ! " 
 
THE FIFTH READi:K. 109 
 
 Here a general shout burst from the by-standers- - 
 " A tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away 
 with him ! " It was with great difficulty that the self- 
 important man in the cocked hat restored order ; and, 
 having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded 
 again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, 
 and whom he was seeking. 
 
 8. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant 
 no harm, but merely came there in search of some pf 
 his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. 
 
 " Well — who are they ? — name them." 
 Eip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, 
 " Where's Nicholas Yedder ? " 
 
 9. There was a silence for a Httle while, when an old 
 man replied, in a thin, piping voice, " Nicholas V^- 
 der ! why, he's dead and gone these eighteen years ! 
 There was a wooden tombstone in the church-yard 
 that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and 
 gone too." 
 
 10. " Where's Brom Dutcher ? " 
 
 " Oh, he went off to the army in the begioning of 
 the war ; some say he was killed at the storming of 
 Stony Point — others say he was drowned in a squall 
 at the foot of Antony's Nose. I don't know — he never 
 came back again." 
 
 " Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster ? '* 
 " He went off to the wars too, was a great militia 
 general, and is now in Congross." 
 
110 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 11. Pvip's heart died away at hearing of these sad 
 changes in his home and friends, and finding himself 
 thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him, 
 too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and 
 of matters which he could not understand : war — 
 Congress — Stony Point; — he had no courage to ask 
 after any more friends, but cried out in despair, " Does 
 nobody here know Eip Yan Winkle? " 
 
 " Oh, Eip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed two or thiRse. 
 •* Oh, to be sure ! that's Bip Van Winlde yonder, lean- 
 ing against the tree." 
 
 12. Eip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of 
 himself as he went up the mountain, apparently as lazy, 
 and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now 
 completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, 
 and whether he was himself or another man. In the 
 midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat 
 demanded who he was, and what was his name ? 
 
 13. " God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end : 
 *' I'm not myself — I'm somebody else — that's me yon- 
 der — no --that's somebody else got into my shoes — I 
 was myseK last night, but I fell asleep on the moun- 
 tain, and they've changed my gun, and everything's 
 changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my 
 name, or who I am ! " 
 
 14. The by-standers began now to look at each other, 
 nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against 
 their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about se- 
 
THE FIFTH READER. Ill 
 
 curing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing 
 misclii<^f, at the very suggestion of which the self-im- 
 portant man in the cocked hat retired with some pre- 
 cipitation. 
 
 15. At this critical moment a fresh, comely woman 
 pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray- 
 bearded man. She had a chubby child it her arms, 
 which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. " Hush, 
 Hip," cried she, " hush, you little fool ; the old man 
 won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the 
 mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of 
 recollections in his mind. " What is your name, my 
 good woman ? " asked he. 
 
 " Judith Gardenier." 
 
 " And your father's name ? '' 
 
 " Ah, poor man. Rip Yau Winkle was his name ; but 
 it's twenty years since he went away from home with 
 his gun, and never has been heard of since. — His dog 
 came home without him ; but whether he shot himself, 
 or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. 
 I was then but a little girl." 
 
 16. The honest man could contain himself no longer. 
 He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. " I 
 am your father ! " cried he, — " young Rip Van Winkle 
 once, old Rip Van Winkle now !— Does nobody know 
 poor Rip Van Winkle ? " 
 
 17. All stood amazed, until an old woman, trotting 
 out from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, 
 
112 THE FIFTH HEADER. 
 
 and peering under it in his face for a moment, ex- 
 claimed, " Sure enough ! it is Eip Van Winkle — it is 
 himself ! "Welcome home again, old neighbor. Why, 
 "where have you been these twenty long years ? " 
 
 18. Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty 
 years had been to him as but one night. The neigh- 
 bors stared when they heard it ; some were seen to 
 wink at each other, and put their tongues in their 
 cheeks : and the self-important man in the cocked hat, 
 who, when the alarm was over, had returned to the 
 field, screwed down the corners of his mouth, and 
 shook his head — upon which there was a general shak- 
 of the head throughout the assemblage. 
 
 19. It was determined, however, to take the opinion 
 of old Peter Yanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing 
 up the road. He was a descendant of the historian of 
 that name, who wrote one of the earliest accounts of 
 that province. Peter was the most ancient inhabitant 
 of the village, and well versed in all the wonderful 
 events and traditions of the neighborhood. 
 
 20. He recollected Eip at once, and corroborated his 
 story in the most satisfactory manner. He assured the 
 company that it was a fact, handed down from his an- 
 cestor the historian, that the Kaatskill Mountains had 
 always been haunted by strange beings. That it was 
 affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first dis- 
 coverer of the river and country, kept a kind of vigiJ 
 there every twenty years, with his crew of the Half- 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 113 
 
 moon ; beiag permitted in this way to revisit the scenes 
 of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the 
 river, and the great city called by his name. That his 
 father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses 
 playing at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain ; and 
 that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the 
 sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder. 
 
 21. To make a long story short, the company broke 
 up, and returned to the more important concerns of 
 the election. Bip's daughter took him home to live 
 with her ; she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a 
 stout cheery farmer for a husband, whom Bip recol- 
 lected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon 
 his back. As to Bip's son and heir, who was the ditto 
 of himself, seen leaning against the tree, he was em- 
 ployed to work on the farm ; but evinced an hereditary 
 disposition to attend to anything else but his business. 
 
 22. Bip now resumed his old walks and habits : he 
 soon found many of his former cronies, though all 
 rather the worse for the wear and tear of time ; and 
 preferred making friends among the rising generation, 
 with whom he soon grew into great favor. 
 
 23. Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived 
 at that happy age when a man can be idle with impu- 
 nity, he took his place once more on the bench at the 
 inn door, and was reverenced as one of the patriarchs 
 of the village, and a chronicle of the old times " before 
 the war." 
 
114 THE FTFTH READER. 
 
 24. It was some time before lie could get into the re- 
 gular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend 
 the strange events that had taken place during his tor- 
 por. How that there had been a revolutionary war — 
 that the country had thrown off the yoke of old Eng- 
 land — and that, instead of being a subject of his Majes- 
 tj George the Third, he was now a free citizen of the 
 United States. Eip, in fact, was no politician: the 
 changes of states and empires made but little impres- 
 sion on him. 
 
 25. He used to tell his story to every stranger that 
 arrived at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at 
 first, to vary on some points every time he told it, 
 which was, doubtless, owing to his having so recently 
 awaked. Tt at last settled down precisely to the tale I 
 have related, and not a man, woman, or child Lq the 
 neighborhood, but knew it by heart. Some always 
 pretended to doubt the reality of it, and insisted that 
 Bip had been out of his head, and that this was one 
 point on which he always remained flighty. The old 
 Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it 
 full credit. 
 
 26. Even to this day they never hear a thunder-storm 
 of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they 
 say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game 
 of ninepins ; and it is a common wish of all hen-pecked 
 husbands in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy 
 
THE FITTIi REA.DEK, 115 
 
 on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught 
 out of Eip Yan Winkle's flagon. 
 
 XIIL— TO A WATER-FOWL. 
 
 BEYANT. 
 
 1. Whither, midst falling dew, 
 
 While glow the heavens with the last steps of day 
 Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue 
 Thy solitary way ? 
 
 2. 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. 
 
 3. Seek'st thou the plashy brink 
 Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 
 
 Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 
 On the chafed ocean side ? 
 
 i. 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. 
 Tot stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 
 Though the dark night is near. 
 
IIG THE FIFTH READElv. 
 
 G. 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 ol heaven 
 Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet, on my heart 
 Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 
 
 And shall not soon 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. 
 
 XIV.— TEUE FRATERNITY PRODUCED ONLY BY OATHOLiU 
 FAITH OR TEACHING. 
 
 LACOKDAIEB. 
 
 Catholic doctrine is the only doctrine which has pro- 
 duced, and which produces, the charity of apostleship. 
 This I proved in my last Conference. I add, that Ca- 
 tholic doctrine alone produces the charity of fraternity. 
 iVaternity is the reciprocal^ sharing of the heart, of 
 labor, and of possessions; and it seems, gentlemen, 
 that that virtue should flow in us by a source as simple 
 and as natural as our life. For, in fact, what are we ? 
 Are we not members of one and the same family ; the 
 children of one and the same father, and of one singlu 
 
THE Firni KKADEPi. 117 
 
 home ? In vain should we desire to destroy the pages 
 of our genealogy -^ all, without exception, all of us 
 come from the same place ; and, whilst pride, without 
 regarding the human race, makes up for itself illustrious 
 and particular antiquities, the blood of Adam speaks 
 in us louder than any titles, and prostrates us all at the 
 feet of the same patriarch as at the feet of the same 
 God. 
 
 2. Yet, notwithstanding that evident community of 
 origin, and that fraternity which nature has placed in 
 us, what a scene does history present to us, if we con- 
 sider it without reference to Catholic doctrine ? Races, 
 enemies to each other; families withdrawing them- 
 selves as far as possible the one from the other by rank, 
 power, and tradition ; men, greedy of this world's pos- 
 sessions, and seizing upon the land, not as the real pa- 
 trimony of all, but as the privileged patrimony of the 
 strongest, the most skillful and the most fortunate ; on 
 every side war, jealousy, envy, spoliation, the elevation 
 of a few, and the misery of many. 
 
 3. However, gentlemen, it is not the same with re- 
 gard to fraternity as to humility, chastity, and apostle- 
 ship. The world, which rejects these even after the re- 
 velation which has been made of them, does not equally 
 reject the other ; a great number appreciate' it now, 
 even without the pale of Catholic doctrine ; and if there 
 be a dream cherished by elevated souls, if there be an 
 Idea which agitates opinion, which inspires brilliant 
 
118 THE FIFTH RE.U)EE. 
 
 pages and consecrates great labors, it is assuredly the 
 idea of fraternity. 
 
 4. Whilst the world insults humility as a virtue which 
 harasses it ; rejects chastity as an intolerable burden ; 
 stigmatizes the apostleship as an invasion of truth, or 
 of that which calls itself truth ; fraternity finds th^re 
 warm and generous friends, who even exaggerate* its 
 rights ; who err as to the means of establishing it ; but 
 who proclaim it as the last object and end of all his- 
 tory, and of all the movements of mankind. The spec- 
 tacle to which we invite you will be still more curious 
 and instructive. It will be grand to see, on the one 
 hand, the world pursuing the same idea as ourselves, 
 powerless to realize it, notwithstanding its efforts ; and, 
 on the other. Catholic doctrine daily attaining its fra- 
 ternal objects by the simple eflusion of its teaching, 
 and of its ordinary efficacy. 
 
 5. In the year of Rome 680, under the consulship of 
 Marcus Terentius Varro LucuUus, and facing the sea 
 of Naples, two or three hundred men were assembled. 
 They bore strongly-marked traces of our common 
 dignity ; and yet it was not necessary to look long 
 upon them to discover also in their whole being the 
 marks, too visible, of a painful degradation^. In the 
 midst of the general silence, one of them stood up and 
 addressed his discourse to those who were assembled : 
 
 6. " Dear and miserable companions in misfortune, 
 have we determined to bear even to the end the injuries 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 119 
 
 of the lot which has beeu made for us ? Humanity ex- 
 ists not for us; outcasts from the world, grasped from 
 our earliest days by the iron hand of destiny, we have 
 up to this time only served to amuse our masters by 
 barbarous specte,cles, or by our labors to feed their os- 
 tentatious ^ pomp, their effeminacy, or their voluptu- 
 ousness.^ It is true we have fled — we are free — but you 
 feel that that liberty is still only servitude ; the whole 
 empire, the whole world is against us ; we have no 
 friends, no country, no home. But do we want other 
 friends, another country, another home than our- 
 selves? Let us consider who we are, and first count our 
 strength. Are we not the greater number ? What are 
 our masters? A handful of patricians, whose houses 
 we people, who breathe only because we have not the 
 courage to put our hands upon their breasts to stifle 
 them. And if it be as I say, if we have the power of 
 the greater number, if nearly the whole of mankind be 
 enslaved to a horde enjoying all and abusing every- 
 thing, what hinders us from at once standing up and 
 stretching out our hand in the world, and from asking 
 the gods to decide between us and our oppressors ? 
 We have not only numbers, we have intelligence also ; 
 many of us have taught their masters, or teach their 
 children, human learning ; we know what they know, 
 and that which they know they derive from us ; it is 
 we who are their grammarians, their philosophers, and 
 who have taught them that eloquence wliich they bear 
 
120 THE FIFTH READEK. 
 
 to the forum, in order to oppress the whole world, Jn 
 fine, we have more than number and intelligence ; we 
 have right on our side, for who has made us slaves ? — 
 Where is the title of our servitude and of their sover- 
 eignty ? ® If it be war, let us make war in our turn ; 
 let us for once try destiny, and let us merit by our 
 courage, that destiny may decide in our favor." 
 
 7. Having thus spoken, Spartacus stretched out his 
 hand toward heaven and toward the sea ; his action 
 completed his discourse ; the crowd who had listened 
 to him rose up, felt that they had a captain, and eight 
 days after, forty thousand slaves ranged in battle array 
 made the Roman generals turn their backs, stirred up 
 from one end to the other, and saw themselves, like 
 Hannibal, on the point of seeing the smoke of Rome 
 as victors. 
 
 8. They were vanquished, however, notwithstand- 
 ing their numbers and their courage ; and Pompey 
 coming to put the seal upon their defeat, had but to 
 write a few lines to the Senate, to inform it that the 
 vile slaves, in the moment of terror, had returned to 
 their legitimate nothingness. 
 
 9. Such was the state of the world some years be- 
 fore the coming of Jesus Christ. A large portion of 
 mankind had neither country, nor family, nor rights ; 
 they were inscribed in the law under the rubric^ of 
 things, and not of men. They were treated as a more 
 btelligent, stronger race of animals, but who had no 
 
THE FIFTH ItEADEK. 121 
 
 oihor distinction than being more apt to a profitable 
 servitude. I could, for my subject, limit myself to the 
 fact, and say to you : See what man had made of man 
 in four thousand years ; see what fraternity was before 
 Jesus Christ. But it will not be unprofitable, if after 
 having seen the fact we seek to discover its cause, in 
 order better to comprehend the grandeur and the diffi- 
 culty of the revolution operated in the world in this re- 
 gard by Catholic doctrine. 
 
 10. It is then, gentlemen, since you desire to know 
 the cause of servitude, it is because man does not love 
 man ; because he does not love labor ; because he does 
 not Hke to share his goods ; because, in fine, he Hkes 
 nothing of that which constitutes fraternity. * * * * 
 
 11. What does man see around himself? Men not 
 only deprived of the grace and the majesty of their 
 nature, but disfigured by toil, degraded by numberless 
 evils, in whom the eye no longer perceives anything 
 but a kind of machine which moves. And if we leave 
 the body and penetrate even to the soul, misery and 
 shame become disclosed there under still more pro- 
 found appearances, which *ho longer keep back scorn 
 by pity. Pride without cause, ambition, selfishness, 
 hatred, sensuality — all the vices contend for that inte- 
 rior visage of man, and aspire to dishonor it. What is 
 there left for love ? To what vestige of beauty will 
 man attach himself in order to love man and share 
 
122 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 with him Hke a brother the pains of toil and the joj of 
 poasessions ? 
 
 12. Man does not love labor. He loves only the 
 activity which flatters pride and cheats weariness. 
 Pascal remarked this : " A man," said he, " considers 
 himself unfortunate because a misfortune has thrown 
 him into a magnificent chateau, where, surrounded by 
 all kinds of enjoyments and distinctions, nothing is 
 wanting to him but a crowd of solicitors who hinder 
 him from thinking of himself." This is true ; we love 
 activity, but a kind of activity which is easy and 
 honored, which, according to the expression of Ma- 
 dame de Stael, adds an interest to repose, and, without 
 fatiguing us, gives us the satisfaction of holding and 
 affecting the threads of this world. It is the indolent 
 activity of command which seduces us : but as soon as 
 there is any real fatigue of mind or body, we strive to 
 throw it upon others as much as we can. Labor is a 
 penalty. It was imposed upon man when God drove 
 him from the terrestrial paradise with this sentence : 
 " In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread" In re- 
 jecting it we do but reject a^ punishment, and in order 
 to accept it when love is wanting to us, nothing less 
 than the full power of necessity must be exercised 
 upon us. Now, man wants love with regard to man, 
 and the dislike to labor, combined with its necessity, 
 unceasingly inspires him with the idea and the tempta- 
 tion of imposing servitude on others. How far, then, 
 
THE FIFTH llEADEll. 
 
 123 
 
 is he from the fraternity which is the reciprocal shar- 
 ing of the heart, of labor, and of possessions ? 
 
 > Re-cip'-ko-cal, mutually inter- 
 changeable ; acting in return. 
 
 « GEN'-E-Aii'-o-GT, history of de- 
 scents ; pedigree ; lineage. 
 
 ' Ap-pke'-ci-ate, to estimate pro- 
 perly. 
 
 * Ex-aq'-geb-ate, to overstate. 
 
 • Deg'-ba-da'-tion, debasement ; 
 
 degeneracy. 
 
 c Os-ten-ta'-tious, gaudy ; showy, 
 pretentious. 
 
 7 Vo-ltjpt'-u-ous-ness, sensuality ; 
 
 luxuriousness. 
 
 8 Sov'-ER EiGNTX, excrcise of su- 
 
 preme power. 
 
 9 Ku'-BKic, a printed direction ; 
 
 (here it means) a classification* 
 
 XV.-CONTKOL OF THE TEMPER. 
 
 HENBY GILES. 
 
 1. Who is he that says he cannot help being angry, 
 or sullen, or peevish ? I tell him he deceives himself. 
 We constantly avoid being so, when our interest or 
 decorum requires it, when we feel near those whom we 
 know are not bound to bear our whims, or who will re- 
 sent them to our injury ; but what strangers will not 
 endure, we cast upon our friends. That temper can 
 be corrected, the world proves by thousands of in- 
 stances. There have been those w^ho set out in life 
 with being violent, peevish, discontented, irritable, and 
 capricious, whom thought, reflection, effort, not tc 
 speak of piet}-, have rendered, as they become mature 
 meek, peaceful, loving, generous, forbearing, tranquil 
 and consistent. It is a glorious achievement, an^l 
 blessed is he who attains it. 
 
124 THE FIFTH KEADEK. 
 
 2. But taking the argument to lower ground, which 
 I do unwillingly, you continually see men controlling 
 their emotions when their interest commands it. Ob- 
 serve the man who wants assistance, who looks for 
 patronage ; how well, as he perceives coldness or hesi- 
 tation, does he crush the vexation that rises in his 
 throat, and stifles the indignation that burns for ex- 
 pression ! How will the most proud and lofty descend 
 from their high position, and lay aside their ordinary 
 bearing, to earn a suffrage from the meanest kind! 
 And surely those who hang around us in life, those 
 who lean on us, or on whom we lean through our pil- 
 grimage, to whom our accents and our deeds are 
 words, to whom a word may shoot a pang worse than 
 the stroke of death; surely, I say, if we can do so 
 much for interest, we can do something for goodness 
 and for gratitude. 
 
 3. And in all civilized intercourse, how perfectly do 
 we see it ourselves to be the recognized law of de- 
 corum ; and if we have not universally good feelings, 
 we have generally, at least, good manners. This may 
 be hypocrisy, but it ought to be sincerity, and we trust 
 it is. If, then, we can make our faces to shine on 
 strangers, why darken them on those who should be 
 dear to us? Is it that we have so squandered our 
 smiles abroad, that we have only frowns to carry 
 home ? Is it that while out in the world we have been 
 so prodigal of good temper, that we have but our ill 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 125 
 
 humors with which to cloud our firesides ? Is it that 
 it requires often but a mere passing guest to enter, 
 while we are speaking daggers to beings who are 
 nearest to us in life, to change our tone, to give ua 
 perfect self-command, that we cannot cl<» for love what 
 we do for appearance ? 
 
 XVT. — EESIGNATION. 
 
 JX)NGFELLOW. 
 
 1. There is no flock, however watched 9tn? knded, 
 
 But one dead lamb is there ! 
 There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 
 But has one vacant chair I 
 
 2. The air is full of farewells to the dying, 
 
 And mournings for the dead ; 
 The heart of Eachel for her children crying 
 Will not be comforted ! 
 
 3. Let us be patient ! these severe afflictions 
 
 Not from the ground arise. 
 But oftentimes celestial benedictions 
 Assume this dark disguise. 
 
 4-. "We see but dimly through the mists and vapor? 
 Amid these earthly damps 
 What soem to us but dim funereal tapers, 
 May be Heaven's distant lamps. 
 
126 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 6. There is no Deatli ! what seems so is transition ; 
 This life of mortal breath 
 Is but a suburb of the life elysian. 
 
 Whose portals we call Death. 
 
 6. She is not dead— the child of our affection — 
 
 But gone unto that school 
 Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 
 And Christ himseK doth rule. 
 
 7. In that great Cloister's stillness and seclusion, 
 
 By guardian angels led, 
 Safe from temptation, safe fi'om sin's pollution, 
 She lives, whom we call dead. 
 
 8. Day after day we think what she is doing 
 
 In those bright realms of air ; 
 Year after year her tender steps pursuing, 
 Behold her grown more fair. 
 
 9. Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 
 
 The bond which Nature gives, 
 
 Thinking that our remembrance, tho' unspoken. 
 
 May reach her where she lives. 
 
 10> Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 
 For when with raptures wild 
 In our embraces we again infold her, 
 She will not be a child ; 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 127 
 
 11. But a fair maiden, in lier Father's mansion, 
 
 Clothed with celestial grace ; 
 And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 
 Shall we behold her face. 
 
 12. And though at times, impetuous with emotion 
 
 And anguish long suppressed. 
 The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean 
 That can not be at rest — 
 
 13. We will be patient ! and assuage the feeling 
 
 We can not wholly stay ; 
 By silence sanctifying, not concealing, 
 The grief that must have way. 
 
 XVn.— DESCRIPTION OF VIRGINU. 
 
 BANCBOFT. 
 
 From the ♦' History of the United States." 
 1. The genial climate and transparent atmosphere 
 delighted those who had come from the denser 
 atmosphere of England. Every object in nature 
 was new and wonderful. The loud and frequent 
 thunder-storms were phenomena that had been rarely 
 witnessed in the colder summers of the north ; the 
 forests, majestic in their growth, and free from under- 
 wood, deserved admiration for their unrivalled magnifi- 
 cence. The purling streams and the frequent rivers 
 flowing between alluvial banks, quickened the ever- 
 pregnant soil into an unwearied fertility. 
 
128 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 2. The strongest and the most delicate flowers grew 
 familiarly in the fields ; the woods were replenished 
 with sweet-barks and odors ; the gardens matured the 
 fruits of Europe, of which the growth was invigorated 
 and the flavor improved by the activity of the virgin 
 mould. Especially the birds, with their gay plumage 
 and varied melodies, inspired delight ; every traveller 
 expressed his pleasure in listening to the mocking- 
 bird, which carolled a thousand several tunes, in imi- 
 tating and excelling the notes of all its rivals. 
 
 3. The humming-bird, so brilhant in its plumage, and 
 so delicate in its form, quick in motion, yet not fearing 
 the presence of man, haunting about the flowers like 
 the bee, gathering honey, rebounding from the blos- 
 soms into which it dips its bill, and as soon returning 
 " to renew its many addresses to its delightful ob- 
 jects," was ever admired as the smallest and the most 
 beautiful of the feathered race. 
 
 4. The rattlesnake, with the terrors of its alarms and 
 the power of its venom ; the opossum, soon to become 
 as celebrated for the care of its offspring as the fabled 
 pelican ; the noisy frog, booming from the shallows 
 like the EngUsh bittern ; the flying squirrel ; the myr- 
 iads of pigeons, darkening the air with the immensity 
 of their flocks, and, as men believed, breaking with 
 their weight the boughs of trees on which they alight- 
 ed, — were all honored with frepient communication, 
 and became the subjects of tlio strangest tales. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 12& 
 
 5. The concurrcut relation of all the Indians justi- 
 fied the belief that, within ten days' journey toward 
 the setting of the sun, there was a country where gold 
 might be washed from the sand, and where the na- 
 tives themselves had learned the use of the crucible ; 
 but definite and accurate as were the accounts, inquiry 
 was always baffled ; and the regions of gold remained 
 for two centuries an undiscovered land. 
 
 XVin.-THE DISCOVERY OF THE HUDSON RIVEB. 
 
 IKVINa. 
 
 The following humorous account of this event is extracted from 
 "Washington Irving's amusing "History of New York, by Diedrich 
 Knickerbocker." The reader must be careful not to confound tho 
 historical with the humorous parts of the narrative. 
 
 1. In the ever memorable year of our Lord, 1609, 
 on a Saturday morning, the five-and-twentieth day of 
 March, old style,* did that "worthy and irreproach- 
 able discoverer (as he has justly been called). Master 
 Henry Hudson," set sail from Holland in a stout ves- 
 sel called the Half Moon, being employed by the Dutch 
 East India Company, to seek a northwest passage to 
 China. 
 
 2. Henry (or, as the Dutch historians call him, Hen- 
 drick) Hudson, was a sea-faring man of renown, who 
 
 * By old style is meant the mode of reckoning dates previous to tho 
 correction of the calendar in England, in 17r)2. The derangement 
 then amounted to eleven days ; and, by Act of Parliament, the 3d oi 
 September of that yeai became the 14th. 
 
130 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 had learned to smoke tobacco under Sir Walter 
 Baleigh, and is said to have been the first to intro- 
 duce it into Holland, which gained him much popu- 
 larity in that country, and caused him to find great 
 favor in the eyes of their high mightinesses, the lords 
 states-general, and also of the honorable West India 
 Company. He was a short, square, brawny old gen- 
 tleman, with a double chin, a mastiff mouth, and a 
 broad copper nose, which was supposed in those days 
 to have acquired its fiery hue from the constant neigh- 
 borhood of his tobacco-pipe. 
 
 3. He wore a true Andrea Ferrara, tucked in a 
 leathern belt, and a commodore's cocked hat on one 
 side of his head. Such was Hendrick Hudson, of 
 whom we have heard so much, and know as little : and 
 I have been thus particular in his description for the 
 benefit of modern painters and statuaries, that they 
 may represent him as he was ; and not, according to 
 their common custom with modern heroes, make him 
 look like Caesar, or Marcus Aurelius, or the Apollo of 
 Belvidere. 
 
 4. From all that I can learn, few incidents worthy of 
 remark happened in the voyage ; and it mortifies m » 
 exceedingly that I have to admit so noted an expedi- 
 tion into my work, without making any more of it. 
 Suffice it to say, the voyage was prosperous and tran- 
 quil — the crew, being a patient people, much given to 
 slumber and vacuity, and but little troubled with the 
 
THE FIFTll FiEADER. 131 
 
 disease of tLiukiiig — a mal;iJy of the miDd, wliicli is 
 the sure breeder of discontent. Hudson had lain in 
 abundance of gin and sourcrout, and every man was 
 allowed to sleep quietly at his post unless the wind 
 blew. 
 
 5. True it is, some slight disaffection was shown on 
 two or three occasions, at certain unreasonable con- 
 duct of Commodore Hudson. Thus, for instance, he 
 forbore to shorten sail when the wind was light, and 
 the weather serene, which was considered among the 
 most experienced Dutch seamen, as certain weather- 
 breeders, or prognostics that the weather would change 
 for the worse. He acted, moreover, in direct contra- 
 diction to that ancient and sage rule of the Dutch navi- 
 gators, who always took in sail at night — put the helm 
 a-port, and turned in — by which precaution they had a 
 good night's rest — were sure of knowing where they 
 were next morning, and stood but little chance of run- 
 ning down a continent in the dark. 
 
 6. He likewise prohibited the seamen from wearing 
 more than five jackets and six pair of breeches, under 
 pretense of rendering them more alert ; and no man 
 was permitted to go aloft, and hand in sails with a 
 pipe in his mouth, as is the invariable Dutch custom 
 at the present day. All these grievances, though they 
 might ruiSe for a moment the constitutional ti'anquillity 
 of the honest Dutch tars, made but transiei^t impres- 
 sion ; they eat hugely, drank profusely, and slept im- 
 
132 THE FIFTH READEn. 
 
 measurably, and being under the especial guidance of 
 Providence, tbe ship was safely conducted to the coast 
 of America ; where, after sundry unimportant toucbinga 
 aud standings off and on, she at length, on the 4th day 
 of September, entered that majestic bay, which at this 
 day expands its ample bosom before the city of New 
 York, and which had never before been \isited by any 
 European.* 
 
 7. It has been traditionary in our family, that when 
 the gi'eat navigator was first blessed with a view of thia 
 enchanting island, he was observed, for the first and 
 only time in his life, to exhibit strong symptoms of 
 astonishment and admiration. He is said to have 
 turned to Master Juet (his mate), and uttered these 
 remarkable words, while he pointed toward this para- 
 dise of the New World — " See I there !" — and there- 
 upon, as was always his way when ho was uncommonly 
 pleased, he did puff out such clouds of smoke, that in 
 one minute the vessel was out of sight of land, and 
 Master Juet was fain to wait until the winds dispersed 
 this impenetrable fog. 
 
 8. It was indeed — as my great-grandfather used to 
 say — though in truth I never heard him, for he died, 
 as might be expected, before I was born — " It was in- 
 deed a spot on which the eye might have reveled for- 
 ever, in ever new and never-ending beauties.*' The 
 
 * Jt i§, however, thought by some that Vemzzani, the Floreiitine 
 navigator, onteiecl the harbor and lauded on the islui d of Manhattan, 
 in 152^. 
 
THE FlfTH READER. 18cJ 
 
 island of Mannaliata spread wide before them, like 
 some sweet vision of fancy, or some fair creation of in- 
 dustrious magic. Its hills of smiling green swelled 
 gently one above another, crowned with lofty trees of 
 luxuriant growth ; some pointing their tapering foliage 
 toward the clouds, which were gloriously transparent ; 
 and others loaded with a verdant burden of clambering 
 vines, bowing their branches to the earth, that was 
 covered with flowers. 
 
 9. On the gentle declivities of the Mils were scattered 
 in gay profusion, the dog-wood, the sumach, and the 
 wild-brier, whose scarlet berries and white blossoms 
 glowed brightly among the deep green of the surround 
 ing foliage ; and here and there a curling column of 
 smoke rising from the little glens that opened along 
 the shore, seemed to promise the weary voyagers a 
 welcome at the hands of their fellow-creatures. As 
 they stood gazing with entranced attention on the 
 scene before them, a red man crowned with feathers, 
 issued from one of these glens, and after contemplat- 
 ing in silent wonder the gallant ship, as she sat like a 
 stately swan on a silver lake, sounded the war-whoop, 
 and bounded into the woods like a wild deer, to the 
 utter astonishment of the phlegmatic Dutchmen, who 
 had never heard such a noise, or witnessed such a caper, 
 in their whole lives. 
 
 10. Of the transactions of our adventurers with the 
 savages, and how the latter smoked copper pipes, and 
 
134 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 ate dried currants ; how they brought great store ol 
 tobaoco and oysters ; how they shot one of the ship's 
 crew, and how he was buried, 1 shall say nothing ; 
 being that I consider them unimportant to my history. 
 After tarrying a few days in the bay, in order to re- 
 fresh themselves after their sea-faring, our voyagers 
 weighed anchor, to explore a mighty river which emp- 
 ties into the bay. This river, it is said, was known 
 among the savages by the name of Shat'emuck ; though 
 we are assured [by some] that it was called the 3Iohe- 
 gan. Be this as it may, up this river did the adven- 
 turous Hendrick proceed, little doubting but it would 
 turn out to be the much-looked-for passage to China. 
 
 11. After sailing above a hundred miles up the river, 
 he found the watery world around him began to grow 
 more shallow and confined, the current more rapid and 
 perfectly fresh — ^phenomena not uncommon in the as- 
 cent of rivers, but which puzzled the honest Dutchman 
 prodigiously. A consultation was therefore called, and 
 having deliberated full six hours, they were brought to 
 a determination by the ship's running aground — where- 
 upon they unanimously concluded, that there was but 
 little chance of getting to China in this direction. A 
 boat, however, was dispatched to explore higher up 
 the river, which, on its return, confirmed the opinion. 
 Upon this the ship was warped off and put about ; 
 and the adventurous Hudson returned down the rivet 
 — with a prodigious flea in his ear. 
 
THE FIFTH READEK. 135 
 
 XIX.— LAST VOYAGE OF HENEl HUDSON. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. Happy, Id deed, would it have been for Hudson if 
 he could have closed his career on the banks of the 
 river whose beauty he was the first to witness and 
 describe, and thus have escaped the sorrowful and 
 mysterious catastrophe^ which awaited him the next 
 year. On his fourth and last voyage he set sail in a 
 small vessel, of only fifty-five tons' burden, manned by 
 twenty-three men, and victualed for six months (IGIO). 
 
 2. After touching at the Orkney Islands, he steered 
 his course to Iceland, where he witnessed one of na- 
 ture's grandest spectacles — Mount Hecla in the blaze 
 of a violent eruption, surrounded by perpetual snows. 
 The crew landed, and, having killed a number of wild 
 fowl, cooked them in one of the hot springs of this 
 »\-onderful island. Again weighing anchor, Hudson 
 passed the south of Greenland till he reached the 
 strait which now bears his name. 
 
 3. Here, in addition to the ordinary difficulties and 
 dangers of navigation among the ice, he had to strug- 
 gle against a mutiny among his crew ; but, in spite of 
 all, this intrepid explorer boldly pushed on till his 
 vessel plowed the waters of that great inland sea, 
 now known as Hudson's Bay. He did not know for a 
 long time that it was a bay, but indulged the hope 
 that he had discovered what he had so long sought— 
 a passage by the northw<^st to China. Indeed, the eX" 
 
IS6 THE FIFTH RE.VDER. 
 
 tent of the surface amply justified this expectation^ 
 since, with the exception of the Mediteiranean, it is 
 the largest inland sea in the world. 
 
 4. Being obliged to pass the winter in these frost- 
 bound regions, on the 1st of November, after seeking 
 winter-quarters, his men found a suitable spot for 
 beaching their vessel. Ten days afterward they were 
 frozen in, with so scanty a stock of provisions, that, on 
 the most stinted allowance, it was hardly sufficient to 
 last till, by the return of spring, they could expect a 
 release from the ice. 
 
 5- It is impossible to describe the hardships of that 
 winter, during which, notwithstanding all the birds, 
 fishes, and animals serviceable for food, which they 
 could succeed in catching, they were always suffering 
 from want and starvation. When we are told that 
 they were finally compelled to live upon moss and 
 frogs, we may form some faint conception of their 
 awful privations. 
 
 6. When the ice broke up, Hudson prepared for the 
 homeward voyage. The last ration of bread was dealt 
 out to the crew on the day of their setting sail. As, 
 with a long and perilous voyage before them, they had 
 not other provisions for the entire crew for more than 
 ten days, a report that their commander had concealed 
 a quantity of bread for his own use was readily be- 
 lieved by the famishing men ; and a mutiny, headed 
 by a man named Green, broke out on the Hist of June. 
 
THE FIFTH HEADER. 137 
 
 Hudson was seized, and his hands bound, on the deck 
 of his own vessel, where his word shoulc? have been 
 law. 
 
 7. The mutineers, not satisfied with this cruel indig- 
 nity, followed it up by an act of inhumanity which it 
 is dreadful to think that British seamen could have 
 perpetrated : — they put the captain, together with the 
 sick and those whom the frost had deprived of the use 
 of their limbs, into the shallop. The conduct of the 
 carpenter, however, forms a striking contrast to the 
 base heartlessness of the mutineers. Refusing to re- 
 main in the ship, he nobly prepared to share the fate 
 of Hudson and his disabled shipmates. 
 
 8. Soon afterward the crew cast the boat adrift, with 
 its hapless freight, and stood out to sea. Doubtless, 
 in the great inland sea which they had discovered, 
 Hudson and his miserable companions found a grave ; 
 for the boat was never seen or heard of more. Two 
 days after the mutineers had sailed, they encountered 
 a violent storm, and for fourteen days were in the 
 greatest danger from the ic©^ 
 
 9. That storm was doubtless fatal to their intrepid 
 commander and his forlorn party, who may have thus 
 escaped a still more terrible death from want and ex- 
 posure. We contemplate with very different feelings 
 the just retribution which overtook the guilty muti- 
 neers. They made the best of their way home in the 
 Kliip which they had thus foully obtained ; but not oum 
 
138 THE iUTH READER. 
 
 of the ringleaders lived to reach the land. The rest, 
 after suffering the most awful extremities of famine, 
 finally gained the shore. None of them were ever 
 brought to trial for their misdeeds ; — probably because 
 those who were deepest in guilt had already paid the 
 penalty of their crimes. 
 
 10. The melancholy end of Hudson is more affecting 
 than the death even of Columbus, Cortez, and Pizarro, 
 in the preceding century. His talents, courage, and 
 perseverance, rank him among the first navigators of 
 any age. In the comparative infancy of discovery in 
 the northern regions, he deserves to take the lead. 
 Though treacherously abandoned in the great inland 
 sea which he had discovered, he has not, like many of 
 his contemporaries, been ungenerously forgotten by 
 posterity. His skill and daring awakened the highest 
 admiration, while the mystery of his fate causes his 
 name even yet to be mentioned with pifcy. 
 
 » Ca.-tas'-tbo-phe, disaster ; calamity. 
 
 XX.— WHAT IS GLOEYT 
 
 MOTHEBWEIiL. 
 
 1. " What is glory ? What is fame ? • 
 The echo of a long-lost name ; 
 A breath — an idle hour's brief talk. 
 The shadow of an arrant naught ; 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 139 
 
 A flower that blossoms for a day, 
 Dying next morrow ; 
 A stream that hurries on its way, 
 Singing of sorrow ; 
 The last drop of bootless shower, 
 Shed on a sear and leafless flower ; 
 A rose stuck in a dead man's breast— 
 This is the world's fame, at the best I 
 
 2. " What is fame ? and what is glory ? 
 A dream — a jester's lying story, 
 To tickle fools withal, or be 
 A theme for second infancy ; 
 A joke scrawled on an epitaph, 
 A grin at death's own ghastly laugh ; 
 A visioning that tempts the eye. 
 But mocks the touch — nonentity ; 
 A rainbow, substanceless as bright. 
 
 Flitting forever, 
 O'er hill-top to more distant hight, 
 
 Nearing us never ; 
 A bubble blown by fond conceit. 
 In very sooth itself to cheat ; 
 The witch-fire of a frenzied brain, 
 A fortune that to lose were gain ; 
 A word of praise, perchance of blame. 
 The wreck of a time-bandied name — • 
 Ah ! this is Glory ! this is Fame ! " 
 
140 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 XXX— THE SPANISH CONQUESTS IN AMERICA- 
 From a poem entitled the " West Indies," b> James Montgomery, 
 
 The winds were prosperous, and tlie billows bore 
 The brave adventurer to the promised shore ; 
 Far in the West, arrayed in purple light, 
 Dawned the new world on his enraptured sight : 
 Not Adam loosened from the encumbering earth, 
 "Waked by the breath of God to instant birth, 
 With sweeter, wilder wonder gazed around. 
 When life within and light without he found ; 
 When, all creation rushing o'er his soul, 
 He seemed to Uve and breathe throughout the whole. 
 So felt Columbus, when, divinely fair. 
 At the last look of resolute despair, 
 The Hesperian isles, from distance dimly blue, 
 With gradual beauty opened on his view. 
 In that proud moment, his transported mind 
 The morning and the evening worlds combined, 
 And made the sea, that sundered them before, 
 A bond of peace, uniting shore to shore. 
 
 Vain, visionary hope ! rapacious Spain 
 Followed her hero's triumph o'er the main. 
 Her hardy sons in fields of battle tried. 
 Where Moor and Christian desperately died. 
 A rabid race, fanatically bold. 
 And steeled to cruelty by lust of gold. 
 Traversed the waves, the unknown woi-ld explored, 
 The cross their standard, but their faith the sword, 
 
THE FIFIH HEADER. 141 
 
 Tbelr steps were graves ; o'er prostrate realms tliey 
 
 trod. 
 They worshiped Mammon, while they vowed to God 
 
 Let nobler bards in loftier numbers tell 
 How Cortez conquered, Montezuma fell ; 
 How fierce Pizarro's ruffian arm o'erthrew 
 The sun's resplendent empire in Peru ; 
 How, like a prophet, old Las Casas stood, 
 And raised his voice against a sea of blood, 
 Whose chilling waves recoiled while he foretold 
 His country's ruin by avenging gold. 
 That gold, for which unpitied Indians fell, 
 That gold, at once the snare and scourge of hell, 
 Thenceforth by righteous heaven was doomed to 
 
 shed 
 Unmingled curses on the spoiler's head ; 
 For gold the Spaniard cast his soul away, — 
 His gold and he were every nation's prey. 
 
 XXn. -THE DISCOVEKY OF THE MISSISSIPPI EIVER. 
 
 BANCROFT. 
 
 Twenty years after Columbus's first discovery, Ponce de Laon (pon'- 
 Iha da In on'), au aged Spaniard, accidently discovered Florida, which 
 received its name from the abundance of flowers with which its forests 
 were adorned. The belief soon afterward became quite general among 
 the Spaniards that this region abounded in riches ; and, accordingly, 
 De Soto (da so' -to), who had acquired wealth and distinction as an 
 associate of Pizarro, fitted out an expedition to explore and conquer 
 the country. In 1539, he landed on its shores, and penetrated into 
 
142 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 the interior ; and during his wanderings, which asted nearly three 
 years, he discovered the Mississippi Biver (1541). In the following 
 extract from Bancrofts "History of the United States," an account ia 
 given of this event and of the death of the great explorer. 
 
 1. All tlie disasters which had been encountered, far 
 from diminishing the boldness of De Soto, served 
 only to confirm his obstinacy by wounding his pride. 
 Should he, who had promised greater booty than 
 Mexico or Peru had yielded, now return as a defeated 
 fugitive, so naked that his troops were clad only in 
 skins and mats of ivy ? The search for some wealthy 
 region was renewed ; the caravan marched still further 
 to the west. 
 
 2. For seven days it struggled through a wilderness 
 of forests and marshes, and at length came to Indian 
 settlements in. the vicinity of the Mississippi. The 
 lapse of nearlj three centuries has not changed the 
 character of th^ stream. It was then described as 
 more than a mile broad, flowing with a strong cur- 
 rent, and, by the weight of its waters, forming a chan- 
 nel of great depth. Tho water was always muddy ; 
 trees and timber were continually floating down tho 
 stream. 
 
 3. The Spaniards were guided to the Mississippi by 
 the natives ; and were direct^^.d to one of the usual 
 crossing-places, probably to the lowest, Chickasa 
 ( Chick' a-saw) Bluff, not far from the thirty-fifth par- 
 allel of latitude. The arrival of the strangers awa- 
 kened curiosity and fear. A multitude of people from 
 
THE FIFTH HEADER. 113 
 
 the western banks of the river, painted and gaylj dec- 
 oiated with great plumes of white feathers, the war- 
 riors standing in rows with bow and arrows in their 
 [ ands, the chieftains sitting under awnings as magnifi- 
 cent as the artless manufactures of the natives could 
 weave, came rowing down the stream in a fleet of two 
 hundred canoes, seeming to the admiring Spaniards 
 " like a fair army of galleys." 
 
 4. They brought gifts of fish, and loaves made of tho 
 fruit of the persimmon. At first they showed some do- 
 sire to ofi'er resistance ; but, soon becoming conscious 
 of their relative weakness, they ceased to defy an enemy 
 who could not be overcome, and suffered injury with- 
 out attempting open retaliation. The boats of the 
 natives were too weak to transport horses ; almost a 
 month expired before barges, large enough to hold 
 three horsemen each, were constructed for crossing the 
 river. At length the Spaniards embarked upon the 
 Mississippi, and were borno to its western bank. 
 
 5. The Dahcota tribes, doubtless, then occupied the 
 country southwest of the Missouri ; Soto had heard its 
 praises ; he believed in its vicinity to mineral wealth ; 
 and he determined to visit its towns. In ascending 
 the Mississippi, the party was often obliged to wade 
 through morasses : at length they came, as it would 
 S3em, upon the district of Little Prairie., and the dry 
 and elevated lands which extend toward New Madrid. 
 
 C. Here the religions of the invaders aad the natives 
 
144: THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 came iii contrast. The Spaniards were adored as chil* 
 dren of the sun, and the blind were brought into their 
 presence, to be healed by the sons of light. " Pray 
 only to God, who is in heaven, for whatsoever ye 
 need," said Soto in reply; and the sublime doctrine 
 which, thousands of years before, had been proclaimed 
 in the deserts of Arabia, now first found its way into 
 the prairies of the Far West. 
 
 7. The wild fruits of that region were abundant ; the 
 pecan nut, the mulberry, and the two kinds of wild 
 plums, furnished the natives with articles of food. At 
 Pacaha (pa-caw 'haw), the northernmost point which 
 Soto reached near the Mississippi, he remained forty 
 days. The spot cannot be identified; but the ac- 
 counts of the amusements of the Spaniards confirm 
 the truth of the narrative of their ramblings. Fish 
 were taken, such as are now found in the fresh waters 
 of that region; one of them, the spade fish, — the 
 strangest and most whimsical production of the muddy 
 streams of the West, so rare, that, even now, it is 
 hardly to be found in any museum, — is accurately de- 
 scribed by the best historian of the expedition. 
 
 8. An exploring party which was sent to examine 
 the regions of the North, reported that they were al- 
 most a desert. The country still nearer the Missouri 
 was said by the Indians to be thinly inhabited ; the 
 bison abounded there so much, that no maize could 
 be cultivated ; and the few inhabitants were hunters^ 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 145 
 
 Soto turned, therefore, to the west and northwest, and 
 plunged still more deeply into the interior of the con- 
 tinent. The highlands of White Kiver, more than two 
 hundred miles from the Mississippi, were probably +be 
 limit of his ramble in this direction. 
 
 9. The mountains offered neither gems nor gold; 
 and the disappointed adventurers marched to the 
 south. They passed through a succession of towns, of 
 which the position cannot be fixed ; till, at length, we 
 find them among the Tunicas, near the hot springs 
 and saline tributaries of the Washita (wash-i-taw'). 
 It was at Autiamque, a town on the same river, that 
 they passed the winter; they had arrived at the settle- 
 ment through the country of the Kappaws. 
 
 10. The native tribes, everywhere on the route, were 
 found in a state of civilization beyond that of nomadic 
 hordes. They were an agricultural people, with fixed 
 places of abode, and subsisted upon the produce of the 
 fields more than upon the chase. Ignorant of the arts 
 of life, they could offer no resistance to their unwel- 
 come visitors ; the bow and arrow were the most effec- 
 tive weapons with which they were acquainted. They 
 seem not to have been turbulent or quarrelsome ; but 
 as the population was moderate, and the earth fruitful, 
 the tribes were not accustomed to contend with each 
 other for the possession of territories. 
 
 11. Their dress was, in part, mats wrought of ivy 
 and bulrushes, or of the bark and lint of trees ; in cold 
 
146 THE FIFTH EEADER. 
 
 weather they wore mantles woven of feathers. The 
 settlements were by tribes, — each tribe occupied what 
 the Spaniards called a proyince ; their Tillages were 
 generally near together, but were composed of few 
 habitations. The Spaniards treated them with no 
 other forbearance than their own selfishness de- 
 manded, and enslaved such as offended, employing 
 them as porters and guides. 
 
 12. On a slight suspicion, they would cut off the 
 hands of numbers of the natives, for punishment or 
 intimidation ; while the 'young cavaliers, from, desire 
 of seeming valiant, ceased to be merciful, and exulted 
 in cruelties and carnage. The guide who was unsuc- 
 cessful, or who purposely led them away from the set- 
 tlements of his tribe, would be seized and thrown to 
 the flames. Any trifling consideration of safety would 
 induce the governor to set fire to a hamlet. He did 
 not dehght in cruelty ; but the happiness, the life, and 
 the rights of the Indians, were held of no account. 
 The approach of the Spaniards was heard with dis- 
 may ; and their departure hastened by the suggestion 
 of wealthier lands at a distance. 
 
 13. In the spring of the following year, Soto deCcr- 
 mined to descend the Washita to its junction, ar.'.l to 
 get tidings of the sea. As he advanced, he wai coon 
 lost amidst the bayous and marshes which ar' found 
 along the Red River and its tributaries. N ^r the 
 Mississippi he came upon the country of Nik •, which 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 147 
 
 was well peopled. The river was there larger than 
 the Guadalquiver (gwah-dal-ke-veer') at Seville. At 
 last he arrived at the province where the Washita, al- 
 ready united with the Red Biver, enters the Mississip- 
 pi. The province was called Guachoya (gioah-tcho'- 
 yah.) 
 
 14. Soto anxiously inquired, the distance to the sea ; 
 the chieftain of Guachoya could not tell. Were there 
 settlements extending along; the river to its mouth? 
 It was answered that its lower banks were an unin- 
 habited waste. Unwilling to believe so disheartening 
 a tale, Soto sent one of his men; with eight horsemen 
 to descend the banks of the Mississippi, and explore 
 the country. They traveled eight days, and were able 
 to advance not much more than thirty miles, they were 
 so delayed by the frequent bayous, the impassable 
 cane-brakes, and the dense woods. 
 
 15. The governor received the intelligence with con- 
 cern ; he suffered from anxiety and gloom. His horses 
 and men were dying around him, so that the natives 
 were becoming dangerous epemies. He attempted to 
 overawe a tribe of Indians near Natchez by claiming a 
 supernatural birth, and demanding obedience and tri- 
 bute. " You say you are the child of the sun," replied 
 the undaunted chief ; '* dry up the river, and I will be- 
 lieve you. Do you desire to see me ? Visit the town 
 where I dwell. If you come in peace, I will receive 
 
148 THE FIFPH REAUEK. 
 
 yon witli special good-will ; if in war, 1 will not febrink 
 one foot back." 
 
 16. But Soto was no longer able to abate the confi- 
 dence or punish the temerity of the natives. His stub- 
 born pride was changed by long disappointments into 
 a wasting melancholy ; and his health sunk rapidly 
 and entirely under a conflict of emotions. A malignant 
 fever ensued, during which he had little comfort, and 
 was neither visited nor attended as the last hours of 
 life demand. Believing his death near at hand, he 
 lield the last solemn interview with his faithful fol- 
 lowers ; and, yielding to the wishes of his companions, 
 who obeyed him to the end, he named a successor. 
 On the next day he died. 
 
 XXm.— PROSPECT OF AETS AND LEARNING IN AMERICA. 
 
 BEEKELET. 
 
 The following verses were written about one hundred and fifty 
 years ago, by Bishop Berkeley, as prophetic of the future greatness of 
 America. If the prophecy be not fulfilled, it shall be because tbe 
 voice of religion is despised and her teaching neglected. 
 
 1. The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime 
 
 Barren of every glorious theme. 
 In distant lands now waits a better time, 
 Producing subjects worthy fame. 
 
 2. In happy climes, where from the genial sun 
 
 And virgin earth such scenes ensue, 
 The force of art by nature seems outdone, 
 And fancied beauties by the true : 
 
THE FIFTH EEADER. 149 
 
 3. In happy climes, tlie seat of innocence, 
 
 Where nature guides and virtue rules, 
 Where men shall not impose for truth and sense 
 The pedantry of courts and schools : 
 
 4. There shall be sung another golden age, 
 
 The rise of empire and of arts, 
 The good and great inspiring epic rage, 
 The wisest heads and noblest hearts. 
 
 5. Not such as Europe needs in her decay ; 
 
 Such as she bred when fresh and young, 
 When heavenly flame did animate her clay. 
 By future poets shall be sung. 
 
 6. Westward the course of empire takes its way ; 
 
 The four first acts already past, 
 A fifth shall close the drama with the day ; 
 Time's noblest offspring is the last ! 
 
 XXIV.— PKESS ON. 
 
 BENJAMIN. 
 
 1. Press on ! surmount the rocky steeps, 
 
 Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch ; 
 He fails alone who feebly creeps. 
 
 He wins who dares the hero's march. 
 Be thou a hero ! let thy might 
 
 Tramp on eternal snows its way. 
 And, through the ebon walls of night. 
 
 Hew down a passage unto day. 
 
150 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 2. Press on if once and twice thy feet 
 
 Slip back and stumble, harder try ; 
 From him who never dreads to meet 
 
 Danger and death, they're sure to fly. 
 To coward ranks the bullet speeds, 
 
 "While on their breasts who never quail, 
 Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds. 
 
 Bright courage, like a coat of mail. 
 
 3. Press on ! if Fortune play thee false 
 
 To-day, to-morrow she'll be true ; 
 Whom now she sinks, she now exalts. 
 
 Taking old gifts and granting new. 
 The wisdom of the present hour 
 
 Makes up for follies past and gone : 
 To weakness, strength succeeds, and power 
 
 From frailty springs — Press on ! press on I 
 
 4. Therefore, press on ! and reach the goal, 
 
 And gain the prize, and wear the crown : 
 Faint not ! for to the steadfast soul 
 
 Oome wealth, and honor, and renown. 
 To thine own self be true, and keep 
 
 Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil ; 
 Press on ! and thou shalt surely reap 
 
 A heavenly harvest for thy toil I 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 151 
 
 XXV -—EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS. 
 
 LINGAED. 
 
 1. Mary lieard the announcement of her sentence 
 with a serenity of countenance and dignity of manner, 
 which awed and affected the beholders ; but her at- 
 tendants burst into tears and lamentations. After long 
 and fervent prayer, the queen was called to supper. 
 She ate sparingly ; and before she rose from table, 
 drank to all her servants ; asking, at the same time, 
 forgiveness of them, if she had ever spoken or acted 
 toward them unkindly. 
 
 2. The last night of Mary's life was spent in the ar- 
 rangement of her domestic affairs, the writing of her 
 will and of three letters, and in exercises of devotion. 
 In the retirement of her closet, with her two maids, she 
 prayed and read alternately ; and sought for support 
 and comfort in reading the passion of Christ. About 
 four she retired to rest ; but it was observed that she 
 did not sleep. Her lips were in constant motion, 
 and her mind seemed absorbed in prayer. At the first 
 break of day her household assembled around her. 
 She read to them her will, distributed among them 
 her clothes and money, and bade them adieu, kissing 
 the women and giving her hand to kiss to the men. 
 Weeping, they followed her into her oratory, where she 
 took her place in front of the altar ; they knelt down 
 and prayed behind her. 
 
 3. In the midst of the great hall of the castle hod 
 
152 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 been raised a scaffold covered with black serge, and 
 surrounded with a low railing. Before eight, a mes- 
 sage was sent to the queen, who replied that she would 
 be ready in half an hour. At that time the sheriff en- 
 tered the oratory, and Mary arose, taking the crucifix 
 from the altar in her right, and carrying her prayer- 
 book in her left hand. Her servants were forbidden to 
 follow ; they insisted : but the queen bade them be 
 content ; and turning, gave them her blessing. They 
 received it on their knees, some kissing her hands, 
 others her mantle. The door closed ; and the burst o* 
 lamentation from those within resounded through the 
 hall. 
 
 4. Mary was now joined by the earls and her keepers, 
 and descending the staircase, found at the foot, Mel- 
 ville, the steward of her household, who, for several 
 weeks had been excluded from her presence. " Good 
 Melville," said Mary, " I pray thee report that I die a 
 true woman to my religion, to Scotland, and to France. 
 May God forgive them that have long thirsted for my 
 blood as the hart doth for the brook of water. Com- 
 mend me to my son ; and tell him that I have done 
 nothing prejudicial to the dignity or independence of 
 his crown." She made a last request, that her ser- 
 vants might be present at her death ; but the Earl of 
 Kent objected. When asked with vehemence, " Am I 
 not the cousin to your queen, a descendant of the blood 
 
THE FIFTH EKADER. 153 
 
 rojal of Henry YII., a named queen of France, and 
 the anointed Queen of Scotland ?" 
 
 5. It was then resolved to admit four of the men and 
 two of her woman servants. She selected her steward, 
 physician, apothecary, and surgeon, with her two maids. 
 Mary wore the richest of her dresses, that which was 
 appropriate to the rank of a queen-dowager. Her step 
 was firm, and her countenance cheerful. She bore 
 without shrinking the gaze of the spectators, and the 
 sight of the scaffold, the block, and the executioner ; 
 and advanced into the hall with that grace and majesty 
 which she had so often displayed in her happier days 
 and in the palace of her fathers. To aid her, as she 
 moanted the scaffold, Paulet offered his arm. "I 
 thank you, sir," said Mary ; "it is the last trouble I 
 shall give you, and the most acceptable service you 
 have ever rendered me." 
 
 6. The queen seated herself on a stool which was 
 prepared for her; and in an audible voice addressed 
 the assembly. She said that she pardoned from her 
 heart all her enemies. She then repeated with a loud 
 voice, and in the Latin language, passages from the 
 Book of Psalms ; and a prayer in French, in which she 
 begged of God to pardon her sins, declared that she 
 forgave her enemies, and protested that she was ignor- 
 ant of ever consenting in wish or deed to the death of 
 her English sister. Slie then prayed in Eoglish for 
 Christ's afflicted church, for her son James, and tor 
 
154 THE FIFTH KEADER. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, and in conclusion, liolding np tlie 
 crucifix, exclaimed, "As tlij arms, God, were stretched 
 out upon the cross, so receive me unto the arms of Thy 
 m(^rcj, and forgive my sins." 
 
 7. " Madam," said the Earl of Kent, " you had bettei- 
 leave such popish trumperies, and bear Him in your 
 heart." She replied, " I cannot hold in my hand the 
 representation of His sufferings, but I must at the same 
 time bear Him in my heart." When her maids, bathed 
 in tears, l)egan to disrobe their mistress, the execu- 
 tioners, fearing the loss of their usual perquisites^ 
 hastily interfered. The queen remonstrated ; but in- 
 stantly submitted to their rudeness, observing to the 
 earls, with a smile, that she was not accustomed to 
 employ such grooms, or to undress in the presence of 
 so numerous a company. Her servants, at the sight 
 of their sovereign in this lamentable state, could not 
 suppress their feelings ; but Mary, putting her finger 
 to her lips, commanded silence, gave them her blessing, 
 and solicited their prayers. 
 
 8. One of her maids, taking from her a handkerchief 
 edged with gold, pinned it over her eyes ; the execu 
 tioners, holding her by the arms, led her to the block ; 
 and the queen, kneeling down, said repeatedly, with a 
 firm voice, " Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my 
 spirit." But the sobs and groans of the spectators 
 disconcerted the headsman. He trembled, missed his 
 aim, and inflicted a deep wound in the lower part of 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 155 
 
 the skull. The queen remained motionless ; and at 
 the third stroke her head was severed from her body. 
 The executioner held it up, and cried as usual, " God 
 save Queen Elizabeth." " So perish all her enemies !" 
 subjoined the Dean of Peterborough. " So perish all 
 the enemies of the gospel !" exclaimed, in a still louder 
 tone, the fanatical Earl of Kent. Not a voice was 
 heard to cry Amen. Party feeling was absorbed in 
 pity. 
 
 XXVI.— MARY STUART AND HER MOURNER. 
 
 Mary Stuart perished at the age of forty-four years and two months. 
 Her remains were taken from her weeping servants, and a green cloth, 
 torn in haste irom an old bilUard-table, was flung over her once beau- 
 tiful form, Thus it remained unwatched and unattended, except by 
 a poor little lap-dog, which could not be induced to quit the body of 
 its mistress. This faithful little animal was found dead two days after- 
 ward ; and the circumstances made such an impression even on the* 
 hard-hearted minister of Elizabeth, that it was mentioned in the offi 
 ciril dispatches. —ikfrs. Jamieson's "Female Sovereigns." 
 
 1. The ax its bloody work had done ; 
 
 The corpse neglected lay ; 
 This peopled world could spare not one 
 To watch beside the clay. 
 
 2. The fairest work from nature's hand 
 
 That e'er on mortals shone, — 
 A sunbeam strayed from fairy land 
 To fade upon a throne ; — 
 
156 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 3. The Venus of the Tomb whose form 
 
 Was destiny and death ; 
 The Siren's voice that stirred a storm 
 In each melodious breath ; 
 
 4. Such was, what now by fate is hurled 
 
 To rot, unwept, away. 
 A star has vanished from the world ; 
 And none to miss the ray ! 
 
 5. Stem Knox, that lonehness forlorn 
 
 A harsher truth might teach 
 To royal pomps, than priestly scorn 
 To royal sins can preach ! 
 
 6. No victims now that lip can make I 
 
 That hand, how powerless now I 
 O God I and what a king — but take 
 A bauble from the brow ? 
 
 7. The world is full of life and love ; 
 
 The world, methinks, might spare 
 From millions, one to watch above 
 The dust of monarchs there. 
 
 8. And not one human eye I — ^yet lo ? 
 
 What stirs the funeral pall ? 
 What sound — ^it is not human woe — 
 Wails moaning through the hall ? 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 157 
 
 10. Close by tlie form mankind desert, 
 
 One thing a vigil keeps ; 
 More near and near to that still heart 
 It wistful, "wondering creeps. 
 
 11. It gazes on those glazed eyes, 
 
 It hearkens for a breath — 
 It does not know that kindness dies, 
 And love departs from death. 
 
 12. It fawns as fondly as before 
 
 Upon that icy hand ; 
 And hears from lips that speak no more 
 The voice that can command. 
 
 13. To that poor fool, alone on earth, 
 
 No matter what had been 
 The pomp, the fall, the guilt, the worth. 
 The Dead Was still a Queen. 
 
 14. With eyes that horror could not scare, 
 
 It watch'd the senseless clay ; 
 Crouch'd on the breast of Death, and there 
 Moaned its fond life away. 
 
 15. And when the bolts discordant clashed, 
 
 And human steps drew nigh, 
 The human pity shrunk abashed 
 Before that faithful eye ; 
 
 16. It seemed to gaze with such rebuke 
 
 On those who could forsake ; 
 ^J'hen turned to watch once more the look, 
 And strive the sleep to w.ike. 
 
158 THE IIFTH READER. 
 
 17. They raised the pall — they touched the dead, 
 
 A cry, and hoth were stilled — 
 
 Alike the soul that Hate had sped, 
 
 The life that Love had killed. 
 
 18. Semiramis of England, hail ! 
 
 Thy crime secures thy sway ; 
 But when thine eyes shall scan the tale 
 Those hireling scribes convey . 
 
 19. When thou shalt read, with late remorse 
 
 How one poor slave was found 
 
 Beside thy butchered rival's corse, 
 
 The headless and discrowned ; 
 
 20. Shall not thy soul foretell thine own 
 
 Unloved, expiring hour, 
 "When those who kneel around the throne 
 Shall fly the falling tower ! 
 
 21 . When thy great heart shall silent break, 
 
 When thy sad eyes shall strain 
 Through vacant space, one thing to seek — 
 One thing that loved — in vain ? 
 
 22. Though round thy parting pangs of pride 
 
 Shall priest and noble crowd ; 
 More worth the grief, that mourned beside 
 Thy victim's gory shroud 1 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 15^ 
 
 XXVIL-JOAN OF AEG. 
 
 LINGAED. 
 
 1. This interesting female was born about the yoar 
 1412. Her education did not differ from that of the 
 other poor girls in the neighborhood ; but she was dis- 
 tinguished above them all bj her diligence, modesty, 
 and piety. 
 
 2. Near Domremy was a solitary chapel, called the 
 Hermitage of the Virgin. Joan was accustomed to visit 
 this hermitage every Saturday, and to hang up a gar- 
 land of flowers, or burn a taper of wax in honor of the 
 mother of Christ. These, her early habits, are worthy 
 of notice, as they probably served to impress on her 
 mind that romantic character which it afterward ex- 
 hibited. The child was fond of solitude ; whatever 
 interested her became the subject of long and serious 
 thought ; and in these day-dreams the young en- 
 thusiast learned to invest with visible forms the crea- 
 tions of her own fancy. 
 
 3. Besides religion, there was another sentiment 
 which sprang up in the breast of Joan. Young as she 
 was, she had heard enough of the calamities which op- 
 pressed her country, to bewail the hard fate of her 
 sovereign, driven from the throne of his fathers. It 
 chanced that in V^ay, 1428, a marauding party of Bur- 
 gundians compelled the inhabitants of Domremy to 
 seek an asylum in Neufchateau. The village was 
 plundered, and the chtirch reduced to a heap of ruins 
 
160 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 4. On their departure the fugitives returned, and 
 the sight wound up the enthusiasm of Joan to the 
 highest pitch. She escaped from her parents, pre- 
 vailed on an uncle to accompany her, and announced 
 her mission to Baudricourt, one of the French gen- 
 erals, who, though he treated her with ridicule, deemed 
 it his duty to communicate her history to the dauphin, 
 and received an order to forward her to the French 
 court. To travel a distance of one hun(h:ed and fifty 
 leagues, through a long tract of country, of which one 
 portion was possessed by hostile garrisons, and the 
 other perpetually infested by parties of plunderers, was 
 a perilous and almost hopeless attempt. 
 
 5. But Joan was confident of success ; on horseback, 
 and in male attire, with an escort of seven persons, 
 she passed without meeting an enemy; and on the 
 tenth day at Fierbois (feer-hwah^), a. few miles from 
 Chinon (slie-nongf), announced to 'Charles her arrival 
 and object. An hour was fixed for her admission to 
 the royal presence ; and the poor maiden of Domremy 
 was ushered into a spacious hall, lighted up with fifty 
 torches, and filled with some hundreds of knights, 
 among whom Charles himself had mixed unnoted, and 
 in plain attire. 
 
 6. Joan entered without embarrassment ; the glare 
 of the Hghts, the gaze of the spectators did not dis- 
 concert her. Singling out the dauphin at the first 
 glance, she walked up to him with a firrxi step, bent liei 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 161 
 
 knee, and said, " God give you good life, gentle king.' 
 He was surprised, but replied, " I am not the king, he 
 is there," pointing at the same time to a different part 
 of the hall. "In the name of God," she exclaimed, 
 " it is not they, but you are the king. Most noble lord 
 dauphin, I am Joan the maid, sent on the part of God 
 to aid you and the kingdom ; and by His order I an- 
 nounce to you that you will be crowned in the city of 
 Rheims {ranzj.'" 
 
 7. The following day she made her appearance in 
 public, and on horseback. From her look, she was 
 thought to be in her sixteenth or seventeenth year ; 
 lier figure was slender and graceful, and her long black 
 locks fell in ringlets on her shoulders. She ran a 
 course with the lance, and managed her horse with 
 ease and dexterity. The crowd burst into shouts of 
 admiration ; they saw in her something more than hu- 
 man ; she was, they thought, a knight descended from 
 heaven, for the salvation of France. Men of every 
 rank caught the enthusiasm, and thousands offered 
 their services to follow her to battle. 
 
 8. Sixty bastiles or forts, erected in a circle round 
 Orleans, had effectually intercepted the communication 
 with the country ; and the horrors of famine were al- 
 ready felt within the walls, when it was resolved by the 
 French cabinet to make a desperate effort to throw a 
 supply of pi'ovisions into the city. A strong body of 
 men, under some of the bravest officers in France, 
 
162 THE FIFTH BEADEK. 
 
 assembled at Blois (blwaJi), and Joan solicited and ob- 
 tained permission not onlj to join, but also to direct, 
 the expedition. 
 
 9. To the English commanders she sent orders, in 
 the name of God, to withdraw from France, and return 
 to their native country. Dunois (doo-nwah^J, the Gov- 
 ernor of Orleans, led her secretly into that city, where 
 she was received by the citizens, with lighted torches 
 and acclamations of joy. Her presence created in the 
 soldiers a spirit of daring, and a confidence of success. 
 Day after day sallies were made, and the strongest of 
 the English forts successively fell into the hands of the 
 assailants. 
 
 10. One day, while she was in the act of planting a 
 ladder, an arrow passed through an opening in her 
 corslet, and fixed itself between the chest and the 
 shoulder. Her companions conveyed her out of the 
 crowd, the wound was dressed, and the heroine, after 
 a few minutes spent in prayer, rejoined the combatants. 
 At her appearance the assailants redoubled their ef- 
 forts and the fort was soon won. 
 
 11. Suffolk, disconcerted by repeated losses, deter- 
 mined to raise the siege ; and the soldiers, with feel- 
 ings of shame and regret, turned their backs to the 
 city. The Earl of Suffolk was soon besieged in a 
 neighboring town, and the place was carried by storm. 
 Mo)'e than three hundred of the garrison perished ; 
 and Suffolk, with the remainder, fell into the hands of 
 the enemy, 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 1G3 
 
 XXVin.-JOAN Ox> AEC— Continued, 
 
 I. Joan had always declared that the object of her 
 iia*«sion was twofold : the liberation of Orleans, and the 
 coronation of the king at Rheims. Of these the first 
 had been accomplished; and she vehemently urged 
 the execution of the second. Though to penetrate as 
 far as Bheims was an enterprise of difficulty and dan- 
 ger, for every intermediate fortress was in the posses- 
 sion of the enemy, Charles determined to trust to his 
 own fortune and the predictions of his inspired de- 
 liverer. 
 
 2. Having sent a strong division of troops to alarm 
 the frontiers J>i Normandy, and another to insult those 
 of Guienne, he commenced his march with an army of 
 ten thousand ctivalry. The citizens of Rheims having 
 expelled the Burgundian garrison, received him with 
 the most flattering testimonies of joy. The coronation 
 was perfoxmedr4nHii(rTrSTmhT3ftanner ; but as none of 
 the peers ol^ance attended. Charles appointed j)roxies 
 to perform their duties. During the ceremony, Joan, 
 with her banner imfurled, stood by the king's side; 
 as soon as it was over, she threw herself on her knees, 
 embraced his feet, declared her mission accomplished, 
 and with tears solicited his leave to return to her 
 former station, 
 
 3 But the king was unwilling to lose the services oi 
 one who had hitherto proved so useful ; and at his 
 earnest request she consented to remain with the 
 
164 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 aimy, &nd to strengthen that throne which she had in 
 a great measure estabhshed. Bedford obtained fresh 
 assurances of fidelity from the Duke of Burgundy, 
 withdrew five thousand men from his Norman garri- 
 sons, and received an equal number from his uncle 
 Beaufort. With these he went in pursuit of Charles, 
 who was unwilling to stake his crown on the uncertain 
 event of a battle. 
 
 4. In the neighborhood of Senlis, however, the two 
 armies undesignedly came in sight of each other. 
 The English, inferior in numbers, prepared for the 
 fight after their usual manner ; the French officers, 
 flushed with success, impatiently demanded the signal 
 for battle. But the defeats of Agincourt and Verneuil 
 led. Charles not to rely on mere superiority of num- 
 ber. The armies separated as if it had been by mutual 
 consent. The regent hastened into Normandy, and 
 Charles, at the soUcitation of his female companion, 
 took advantage of the duke's absence to make an at- 
 tempt on the capital. Soisson, Senlis, Beauvais, and 
 St. Denis opened their gates. He advanced to Mont- 
 martre, published an amnesty, and directed assault on 
 the Fauxbourg of St. Honore. 
 
 5. The action lasted four hours. At its very com • 
 mencement Joan received a dangerous wound, was 
 thrown into the ditch, and lay there unnoticed till she 
 was discovered in the evening, and carried off by a 
 party sent in search after her. Charles, mortified b^' 
 
THE rirTH KEADER. 165 
 
 tho obstinate resistance of the Parisians, retired to 
 Bourges ; while the maid, looking on her wound as an 
 admonition from heaven that her commission had 
 ceased with the coronation at Eheims, consecrated her 
 armor to God in the church at St. Denis. Her ser- 
 vices, however, were still wanted. At the solicitation 
 of her sovereign, she consented to resume the profes- 
 sion of arms, and accepted a patent of nobility for her- 
 self and her family, accompanied with a grant of in- 
 come equal to that of an earl. 
 
 6. At the commencement of spring, the Duke of 
 Burgundy undertook to reduce the city of Compeigne 
 ( com-pe-oirC ) ; and the maid was selected to raise the 
 siege. Her troops were defeated, however ; she was 
 taken prisoner, and was handed over to the regent, 
 Bedford. The unfortunate maid was treated with 
 neglect by her friends, with cruelty by her enemies. 
 If ever prince had been indebted to a subject, Charles 
 YII. was indebted to Joan d'Arc ; yet from the mo- 
 nient of her captivity she appears to have been for- 
 gotten. We read not of any sum offered for her ran- 
 som, or attempt made to alleviate the rigor of her con- 
 finement, or notice taken of her trial and execution. 
 
 7. The Bishop of Beauvias (ho-va' ), in whose dio- 
 cese she had been taken, claimed the right of trying 
 her in his court on an accusation of sorcery and im- 
 posture. It is generally supposed that this claim Avaa 
 made at the suggestion of the Duke of Bedford. The 
 
iG6 THE FIFTH EEADEll. 
 
 inquiry was opened at Rouen (roo'dng) ; on sixteen 
 different days slie was brought to the bar ; the ques- 
 tions, with her answers, were laid before the University 
 of Paris; and the opinion of that body concurred 
 with the judgment of the court. Still the sentence 
 way delayed from day to day ; and repeated attempts 
 were made to s.ive her from the punishment of death, 
 by inducing her to make a frank and explicit^ con- 
 fession. 
 
 8. But the spirit of the heroine continued undaunt' 
 ed ; she proudly maintained that she had been the in- 
 spired minister of the Almighty. The fatal day, how- 
 ever, arrived ; and the captive was placed at the bar ; 
 but when the judge had prepared to pronounce sen- 
 tence, she yielded to a sudden impulse of terror, sub- 
 scribed an act of abjuration, and, having promised upon 
 oath never more to wear male attire, was remanded to 
 her former place of confinement. 
 
 9. Her enthusiasm, however, revived in the solitude 
 of a prison, and her judges condemned her, on tho 
 charge of having relapsed into her former errors. She 
 was led sobbing and struggHng to the stake; but thd 
 expectation of a heavenly deliverer did not forsake tor 
 though she saw the fire kindled at her feet. She tL en 
 burst into loud exclamations, protesting her ir:io- 
 cence, and invoking the aid of the Almighty ; and just 
 before the flames enveloped her, was seen embra iing 
 a ciucifix, and calling on Christ for mercy. This rruol 
 
THE FIFTH READER 107 
 
 and unjustifiable tragedy was enacted ia tlie market- 
 place of Rouen, before an immense concourse of spec- 
 tators, about twelve months after her capture (1431). 
 
 Nothing was gained by this ruthless execution of the "Maid of 
 Orleans." The Duke of Bedford died (1435), and Charles was enabkui 
 to re-enter his capital, after having been excluded from it for twenty 
 years (1437). The EngUsh continued to suffer defeat, until, finally, 
 this long war was interrupted by a truce (1447) ; and subsequently 
 the French gained all their possessions except Calais (1451). 
 
 XXIX.— WORK Am) REST. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. Home! Is this home, where she sits cold, and 
 
 lonely, 
 Working, still working, morning till night ? 
 Life ! Is this life, which is pain and pain omly — 
 Only dark shadows, not one gleam of light ? 
 
 2. Pale, haggard cheeks, frozen, comfortless fingers ; 
 
 Eyes wild with watching, head yearning for rest. 
 Working, still working, each moment she lingers 
 Takes bread from the baby she warms at hoj 
 breast. 
 
 3. Gazing at palaces through the dim casement, 
 
 (Palace so splendid through casement so mean !) 
 Nothing but w^ork in the garret and basement — 
 Nothing but rest and enjoyment between ! 
 
1G8 THE FIFTH ftEADETu 
 
 i. O ye rich happy ones, give her your pity, 
 Working, still working, so wearily on ; 
 Look at her withered face— once it was pretty ; 
 Youth is still hers, but its semblance is gone. 
 
 5. Could 7/ou be patient, and good, and enduring, 
 
 If your high station was bound to her doom ? 
 Earth is so sweet for you — fair and alluring ; 
 Earth is so hard for her — shrouded in gloom. 
 
 6. Open your hearts to her, open your purses. 
 
 From your abundance give money and love ; 
 
 Let not your happy homes prove to you curses. 
 
 Dragging you down from the heaven above. 
 
 7. What! Were you sent to this earth for youi 
 
 pleasure ? 
 Stewards of His riches, awake and bestir ; 
 You shall be judged by the measure for measure 
 Happy, perhaps, to change places with her ! 
 
 XXX.— BLIGHT AND BLOOM. 
 
 OlSOROE H. MILES. 
 
 1. Did we not bury them ? 
 
 All those dead years of ours, 
 
 All those poor tears of ours, 
 
 All those pale pleading flowers - 
 
 Did we not bury them ? 
 
THE FIFTH READER, 169 
 
 2. Yet, in the gloom there, 
 See how they stare at us/ 
 Hurling despair at us, 
 Bising to glare at us 
 
 Out of the tomb there I 
 
 3. Curse every one of them ! 
 Kiss, clasp and token, 
 Vows vainly spoken, 
 Hearts bruised and broken — 
 
 Have we not done with them 7 
 
 4. Are we such slaves to them ?— « 
 Down where the river leaps, 
 Down where the willow weeps, 
 Down where the lily sleeps, 
 
 Dig deeper graves for them. 
 
 6. Must we still stir amid 
 
 Ghosts of our buried youth. 
 Gleams of life's morning truth, 
 Spices and myrrh, forsooth . . 7 
 Seal up the pyramid ! 
 
 6. Be still, my heart, beneath the rod, 
 
 And murmur not ; 
 He too was Man — the Son of God— 
 And shared thy lot. 
 
 7. Shared all that we can suffer here. 
 
 The gain, the loss. 
 The bloody sweat, the scourge, the sneer 
 The Crown, the Cross, 
 
170 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 8. TliG final terror of the Tomb. — 
 His guiltless head 
 Self-dedicated to the doom 
 We merited. 
 
 9 Then sigh not for earth's Edens lost» 
 Time's vanished bliss ; 
 The heart that suffers most, the most 
 Besembles His. 
 
 -A DESOEEPTION OF THE BANISHMENT OF rHH 
 ACADIANS 
 
 PBOM THEIR EURAL HOMES IN NOVA SCOTLA.. 
 BANCEOFT. 
 
 1. By a general proclamation, on one and the same 
 day, the scarcely conscious victims, "both old and 
 young men, as well as all the lads of ten years of 
 age," were peremptorily ordered to assemble at their 
 respective posts. On the appointed fifth of Septem- 
 ber, they obeyed. At Grand Pre, for example, four 
 hundred and eighteen unarmed men came together. 
 They were marched into the church and its avenues 
 were closed, when Winslow, the English commander, 
 placed himself in their center, and spoke : 
 
 2. " You are convened together to manifest to you 
 His Majesty's iinal resolution to the French inhab- 
 itants of this his province. Your lands and tenements, 
 cattle of all kinds, and live stock of all sorts, are for- 
 feited to the crown, and jou j-ourselves are to be i 
 
 J 
 
THE FIFTH READER, 171 
 
 moved from tliis liis province. 1 am, through His 
 Majesty's goodness, directed to allow you liberty to 
 carry off your money and household goods, as many 
 as you can, without discommoding the vessels you go 
 in." And he then declared them the King's prisoners. 
 Their wives and families shared their lot ; their sons, 
 five hundred and twenty-seven in number, their daugh- 
 ters, five hundred and seventy-six ; in the whole, wo- 
 men and babes and old men and children all included, 
 nineteen hundred and twenty-three souls. The blow 
 was sudden ; they had left home but for the morning, 
 and they never were to return. Their cattle were to 
 stay unfed in the stalls, their fires to die out on their 
 hearths. They had for that first day even no food for 
 themselves or their children, and were compelled to 
 beg for bread. 
 
 3. The 10th of September was the day for the em • 
 barcation of a part of the exiles. They were drawn 
 up six deep, and the young men, one hundred and 
 sixty-one in number, were ordered to march first on 
 board the vessel. They could leave their farms and 
 cottages, the shady rocks on which they had reclined, 
 their herds and their garners; but nature yearned 
 within them, and they w^ould not be separated from 
 their parents. Yet of what avail was the frenzied de- 
 spair of the unarmed youth ? They had not one 
 weapon ; the bayonet drove them to obey ; and they 
 marched slowly and heavily from the chapel to the 
 
172 THE FIFTH KEADEIl. 
 
 shore, between women and cliildren, who, kneeling, 
 prayed for blessings on their heads, they themselves 
 weeping, and praying, and singing hymns. The seniors 
 were next ; the wives and children must wait till other 
 transport vessels arrive. 
 
 4. The delay had its horrors. The wretched people 
 left behind, were kept together near the sea, without 
 proper food, or raiment, or shelter, till other ships 
 came to take them away ; and December, with its ap- 
 palling cold, had struck the shivering, half-clad, 
 bioken-hearted sufferers, before the last of them were 
 removed " The embarcation of the inhabitants goes 
 on but slowly," wrote Monckton, from Fort Cumber- 
 land, near which he had burned three hamlets ; " the 
 most part of the wives of the men we have prisoners 
 are gone off with their children, in hopes I would not 
 send off their husbands without them." Their hope 
 was vain. Near Annapolis, a hundred heads of fami- 
 lies fled to the woods, and a party was detached on the 
 hunt to bring them in. "Our soldiers hate them," 
 wrote an officer on this occasion, " and if they can but 
 find a pretext to kill them, they will." Did a prisoner 
 seek to escape ? He was shot down by the sentinel ! 
 
 6. Yet some fled to Quebec ; more than three thou- 
 sand had withdrawn to Miramichi, and the region 
 south of the Ristigouche ; some found rest on the 
 banks of the St. John's and its branches ; some found 
 a lair in their native forests ; some were charitably 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 173 
 
 sholtered from the Englisli in the wigwams of the sav- 
 ages. But seven thousand of these banished people 
 were driven on board ships, and scattered among the 
 English Colonies, from New Hampshire to Georgia 
 alone, one thousand and twenty to South Carolina 
 alone. They were cast ashore without resources ; 
 hating the poor-house as a sheltei .cr their offspring, 
 and abhorring the thought of selling themselves as la- 
 borers. Households too were separated ; the colo- 
 nial newspapers contained advertisements oi memoera 
 of families seeking their companions, of sons anxious 
 to reach and relieve their parents, of mothers mourning 
 for their children. 
 
 6. The wanderers sighed for their native country : 
 but, to prevent their return, their villages, from Annap- 
 olis to the isthmus, were laid waste. Their old homes 
 were but ruins. In the district of Maine, for instance, 
 two hundred and fifty of their houses, and more than 
 as many barns, were consumed. The live stock which 
 belonged to them, consisting of great numbers of 
 horned cattle, hogs, sheep, and horses, were seized as 
 spoils and disposed of by the English officials. A 
 I >eautiful and fertile tract of country was reduced to a 
 solitude. There was none left round the ashes of the 
 cottages of the Acadian s but the faithful watch-dog, 
 vainly seeking the hands that fed him. Thickets of 
 forest-trees choked their orchards : the ocean broke 
 over their neglected dykes, and desolated their meadows. 
 
174 THE FIFTH HEADER. 
 
 XXXn. -EVANGELINK 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 The events related in the preceding lesson hare been made by 
 Longfellow the subject of the following charming poem. 
 
 1. This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines 
 
 and the hemlocks, 
 
 Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct 
 in the twilight, 
 
 Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, 
 
 Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their 
 bosoms. 
 
 Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighbor- 
 ing ocean 
 
 Mpeaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of 
 the forest 
 
 2. This is the turest primeval ; but where are the 
 
 hearts that beneath it 
 
 Leaped like the roe. when he hears in the woodland 
 the voice of the huntsman ? 
 
 Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Aca- 
 dian farmers, — 
 
 Men whose Kves ghded on like rivers that water the 
 woodlands, 
 
 Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image 
 of heaven ? 
 
 3. Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers 
 forever departed I 
 
 J 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 175 
 
 Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts 
 
 of October 
 Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far 
 
 o'er the ocean. 
 Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village 
 
 of Grand-Pre. 
 
 4. Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, 
 
 and is patient, 
 Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's 
 
 devotion, 
 
 List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines 
 
 of the forest. 
 
 « « « • « 
 
 XXXnL— EVANGELINE. -Continued. 
 
 1. In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of 
 Minas, 
 
 Distant, secluded, still, the httle village of Grand-Pre 
 
 Lay, in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to 
 the eastward. 
 
 Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks with- 
 out m-jnber. 
 
 Dykes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with 
 labor incessant. 
 
 Shut out the turbulent tides ; but at stated seasons the 
 flood-gates 
 
176 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er 
 
 the meadows. 
 West and south there were fields of flax, a ad orchards 
 
 and cornfields 
 Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain ; and away 
 
 to the northward 
 Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the 
 
 mountains 
 Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty 
 
 Atlantic 
 Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er fi-om their 
 
 station descended. 
 There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the AcadiaD 
 
 Tillage. 
 Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and 
 
 chestnut. 
 Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign 
 
 of the Henries. 
 Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows ; and 
 
 gables projecting 
 Over the basement below, protected and shaded the 
 
 doorway. 
 There, in the tranquil evenings of summer, when 
 
 brightly the sunset 
 Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the 
 
 chimneys, 
 Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in 
 kirtles 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 177 
 
 Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the 
 
 golden 
 Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuitles 
 
 within doors 
 Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and 
 
 the songs of the maidens. 
 Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and 
 
 the children 
 Paused in their play to kiss fche hand he extended to 
 
 bless them. 
 Reverend walked he among them ; and up rose matrons 
 
 and maidens, 
 Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate 
 
 welcome. 
 Then came the laborers home from the field, and 
 
 serenely the sun sank 
 Down to his rest, and twihght prevailed. Anon from 
 
 the belfry 
 Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the 
 
 village 
 Columns of pale blue ^moke, like clouds ol incense 
 
 ascending, 
 Tlose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and 
 
 contentment. 
 Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian far- 
 mers, — 
 Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they 
 
 free from 
 
178 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of 
 
 republics. 
 Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their 
 
 windows ; 
 But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of 
 
 the owners ; 
 There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in 
 
 abundance. 
 2. Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the 
 
 Basin of Minas, 
 Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand- 
 
 Pre; 
 Dwelt on his goodly acres ; and with him, directing his 
 
 household, 
 Gentle Evangeline lives, his child, and the pride of the 
 
 village. 
 Stalworth and stately in form was the man of seventy 
 
 winters ; 
 Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with 
 
 snow-flakes ; 
 White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as 
 
 brown as the oak-leaves. 
 Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen sum- 
 mers. 
 Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the 
 
 thorn by the wayside, 
 Black, yet how softly they gleamed, beneath the brown 
 
 shada of lier tresses ! 
 
THE FIFPH HEADER. 179 
 
 Sweet was her breatli as tlie breath of kine that feed in 
 
 the meadows. 
 When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at 
 
 noontide 
 Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth was the 
 
 maiden. 
 Fairei was she when, on Sunday mom, while the bell 
 
 from its turret 
 Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with 
 
 his hyssop 
 Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon 
 
 them, 
 Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of 
 
 beads and her missal, 
 Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of blue, and 
 
 the ear-rings. 
 Brought in the olden time from France, and since, aa 
 
 an heirloom, 
 Handed down from mother to child, through long 
 
 generations. 
 But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — 
 Shone on her face and encircled her form, when after 
 
 confession. 
 Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction 
 
 upon her. 
 When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of 
 exquisite music. 
 
180 THE FIFTH EEADER. 
 
 3. Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house ol 
 
 the farmer 
 Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea ; and a 
 
 shady 
 Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreath- 
 ing around it. 
 Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath ; and 
 
 a footpath 
 Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the 
 
 meadow. 
 Under the sycamore - tree were hives overhung by a 
 
 penthouse. 
 Such as the traveler sees in regions remote by the 
 
 roadside. 
 Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of 
 
 Mary. 
 Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well 
 
 with its moss-grown 
 Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for 
 
 the horses. 
 Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were 
 
 the bams and the farm-yard. 
 There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique 
 
 plows and the harrows ; 
 There were the folds for the sheep ; and there, in his 
 
 feathered seragho. 
 Strutted the lordly turkey, ^.nd c?:owed ^h^ Cppk, witli 
 
 the self-same 
 
THE FIFTH READER. l81 
 
 Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent 
 Peter. 
 
 Bursting with hay were the bams, themselves a village. 
 In each one 
 
 Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; and a 
 staircase, 
 
 Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn- 
 loft. 
 
 There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and inno- 
 cent inmates 
 
 Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the variant 
 breezes 
 
 Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of 
 mutatioQ. 
 
 rhus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer of 
 Grand-Pre 
 
 Lived on his sunny ^arm, and Evangeline governbd 
 his househi>M. 
 
182 THE FIFTH READER, 
 
 XyXTTT (a).— EVANGELINK— OoOTnnJED. 
 
 * • Young Gabriel only was welcome ; 
 OaWioI Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith, 
 "Who WHS a mighty man in the village, and honored of 
 
 all men : 
 For, since the birth of time, throughout all ages and 
 
 nations, 
 Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the 
 
 people. 
 Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from 
 
 earliest childhood 
 Grew up together as brother and sister ; and Father 
 
 Felician, 
 Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught 
 
 them their letters 
 Out of the self-same book, with the hymns of the 
 
 church and the plain-song. 
 But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson 
 
 completed, 
 bwiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the 
 
 blacksmith. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 183 
 
 There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to 
 
 behold him 
 Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a 
 
 plaything, 
 Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him the tire 
 
 of the cart-wheel 
 Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cin- 
 ders. 
 Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering 
 
 darkness 
 Bursting wdth light seemed the smithy, through every 
 
 cranny and crevice, 
 Warm By the forge within they watched the laboring 
 
 bellows. 
 And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in 
 
 the ashes. 
 Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into 
 
 the chapel. 
 Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the 
 
 eagle, 
 Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er the 
 
 meadow. 
 Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on 
 
 the rafters. 
 Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, which 
 
 the swallow 
 Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight 
 
 of its fledglings : 
 
184 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Lucky was he wlio found that stone in the nest of tho 
 
 swallow 1 
 Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were 
 
 children. 
 He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of 
 
 the morning, 
 Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought 
 
 into action. 
 She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a 
 
 woman. 
 " Sunshine of Saint EulaHe" was she called ; for that 
 
 was the sunshine 
 Which, as the farmers believed, would load their 
 
 orchards with apples ; 
 
 She, too, would bring to her husband's house delight 
 
 and abundance. 
 
 * * « • • 
 
 XXXIV. —EVANGELINE. —Continued. 
 
 1. Now had the season returned, when the night a 
 
 grow colder and longer. 
 And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters 
 Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from 
 
 the ice-bound. 
 Desolate northern bays to the shores of tro, icaJ 
 
 island:}. 
 
THE FIFTH READEIl. 18?I 
 
 Earvests were gatliered iu ; and wild with the winds of 
 
 September 
 Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with 
 
 the angel. 
 A-ll the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. 
 Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded 
 
 their honey 
 Till the hives overflowed ; and the Indian hunters 
 
 asserted 
 Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the 
 
 foxes. 
 Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that 
 
 beautiful season, 
 Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of 
 
 All-Saints! 
 Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light ; 
 
 and the landscape 
 Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood. 
 Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless 
 
 heart of the ocean 
 Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in 
 
 harmony blended. 
 Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the 
 
 farm-yards, 
 Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of 
 
 pigeons. 
 All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, and 
 
 the great sun 
 
 -\ 
 
186 THE FIFTH READElt. 
 
 Looked with the eye of love through the golden 
 
 vapors tiround him ; 
 While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet and 
 
 yellow, 
 Bright with the sheen of the dew, each gUttering tree 
 
 of the forest 
 Flashed hke the plane-tree the Persian adorned with 
 
 mantles and jewels. 
 2. Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection 
 
 and stilhiess. 
 Day with its burden and heat had departed, and 
 
 twilight descending 
 Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the 
 
 herds to the homestead. 
 Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks 
 
 on each other, 
 And with their nostrils distended inhaling the fresh- 
 ness of evening. 
 Foremost, beariog the bell, Evangeline's beautiful 
 
 heifer, 
 Proud of her snow-white, and the ribbon that waved 
 
 from her collar, 
 Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human 
 
 affection. 
 Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks 
 
 from the seaside, 
 Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them fol- 
 lowed the watcli-dog, 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 187 
 
 Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride o! 
 
 his instinct, 
 Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and 
 
 superbly 
 Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the 
 
 stragglers ; 
 Begent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept ; 
 
 their protector, 
 When from the forest at night, through the starry 
 
 silence, the wolves howled. 
 Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from 
 
 the marshes. 
 Laden with brmy hay, that filled the air with its 
 
 odor. 
 Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes 
 
 and their fetlocks. 
 While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and pond- 
 
 ei'ous saddles. 
 Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels 
 
 of crimson, 
 Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with 
 
 blossoms. 
 Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their 
 
 udders 
 Unto the milkmaid's hand ; whilst loud and in regular 
 
 cadence 
 Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets de- 
 scended. 
 
188 THfJ FIFTH READER. 
 
 Lowing of cattle and peals ol ^augliier were hearc in 
 
 the farm-yard, 
 Echoed back by the barns. AnoL they ^anJi into 
 
 stillness ; 
 Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the 
 
 barn-doors. 
 Rattled the wooden bars, and ^d toi a season was 
 
 silent. 
 3. In-doors, warm bv J]e wide-mouthed fireplace, 
 
 idly the farmer 
 Sat in his elbow-cfcaii and watched how the flames 
 
 and the smoke-wreaths 
 Struggled together like L^res in a burning c]i> iiei-ind 
 
 him. 
 Nodding and mocking along Mt^. wan' with gestures 
 
 fantastic. 
 Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into 
 
 darkness. 
 Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm- 
 chair 
 Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates 
 
 on the dresser 
 Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies 
 
 in the sunshine. 
 Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of 
 
 Christmas, 
 Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before 
 
 him 
 
THE FIFTH DEADER. 189 
 
 Sang in tlieir Norman orchards and bright Burgundian 
 
 vineyards. 
 Close at her father's side was the gentle Evaigeline 
 
 seated, 
 Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the corner 
 
 behind her. 
 Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its diligent 
 
 shuttle, 
 While the monotonous drone of the wheel, Hke the 
 
 drone of a bagpipe. 
 Followed the old man's song, and united the fragments 
 
 together. 
 As in a church, when the chant of the choir at in- 
 tervals ceases. 
 Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest 
 
 at the altar, * 
 
 So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion 
 the clock clicked. 
 4. Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, 
 
 suddenly hfted. 
 Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back 
 
 on its hinges. 
 Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil the 
 
 blacksmith. 
 And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was 
 
 with him. 
 ** Welcome !" the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps 
 
 paused on the threshold, 
 
190 - THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 " Welcome, Basil, my friend ! Come, take thy place on 
 
 tlie settle 
 Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty with- 
 out thee ; 
 Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of 
 
 tobacco ; 
 Never so much thyself art thou as when, through the 
 
 curling 
 Smoke of the pipe or the forge, thy friendly and jovial 
 
 face gleams 
 Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist 
 
 of the marshes." 
 Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the 
 
 blacksmith. 
 Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fire- 
 side : 
 "Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and 
 
 thy ballad ! 
 Ever in cheerfulest mood art thou, when others are 
 
 filled with 
 Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before 
 
 them. 
 Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up 
 
 a horseshoe." 
 Pausing a moment to take the pipe that Evangeline 
 
 brought him, 
 And with a coal from the embers had lighted, be slowly 
 
 continued : 
 
THE FIITH READER. 191 
 
 "Four days now are passed since the English ships at 
 their anchors 
 
 Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon 
 })ointed against us. 
 
 What their design may be is unknown ; but all are 
 commanded 
 
 On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majes- 
 ty's mandate 
 
 Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in t\v 
 mean time 
 
 Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people.'* 
 
 Then made answer the farmer : " Perhaps some friend- 
 lier purpose 
 
 Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests 
 in England 
 
 By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted, 
 
 And from our bursting barns they would feed their cat- 
 tle and children." 
 
 " Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said, warmly, 
 the blacksmith, 
 
 Shaking his head, as in doubt ; then, heaving a sigh, 
 he continued : 
 
 " Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor Porf: 
 Boyal. 
 
 Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on its 
 
 outskirts, 
 Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of to- 
 morrow. 
 
£92 THE FIFTU READER. 
 
 Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weapons oi 
 
 all kinds ; 
 Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the 
 
 scythe of the mower." 
 Then with a pleasant smile made answer the joTial 
 
 farmer : 
 " Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and 
 
 our cornfields, 
 Safer within these peaceful dykes, besieged by the 
 
 ocean, 
 Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's can- 
 non. 
 Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no shadow of 
 
 sorrQW 
 Fall on this house and hearth ; for this is the night of 
 
 the contract. 
 Built are the house and the bam. The merry lads of 
 
 the village 
 Strongly have built them and well : and, breaking the 
 
 glebe round about them, 
 Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a 
 
 twelvemonth. 
 Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and 
 
 inkhorn. 
 Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy of oui 
 
 children ?" 
 
IHE JTiiTH liEADMl. lUiJ 
 
 XXXV. - EVANGELINK — Ooims jkd. 
 
 1. Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of 
 the ocean, 
 
 Dent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary 
 public ; 
 
 Bhocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, 
 hung 
 
 Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and glasses 
 with horn bows 
 
 Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supemaL 
 
 Father of twenty children was he, and more than a 
 hundred 
 
 Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his 
 great watch tick. 
 
 Four long years in the tilnes of the war had he lan- 
 guished a captive, 
 
 Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of 
 the English. ^ 
 
 Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspi- 
 cion, 
 
 "Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and 
 childlike. 
 
/ 
 
 / 
 
 194 THE FIFTH REAPEIl. 
 
 He was beloved hj all, and most of all bj tlie cliildren , 
 For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the forest, 
 And of the goblin that came in the night to water the 
 
 horses, 
 And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who 
 
 unchristened 
 Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers 
 
 of children ; 
 And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the 
 
 stable, 
 And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a 
 
 nutshell. 
 And the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover and 
 
 horseshoes, 
 With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the 
 
 village. 
 Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the 
 
 blacksmith, 
 Elnocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending 
 
 his right hand, 
 i'ather Leblanc," he exclaimed, " thou hast heard the 
 
 talk in the village, 
 Al i, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships 
 
 and their errand." 
 Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary 
 
 public — 
 " Gossip enough have I hi'.ard, in sooth, yet am never 
 
 the wiser; 
 
THE Fll' Til llEADEK. 195 
 
 And what their errand may be I know not better than 
 
 others. 
 Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intention 
 Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why then 
 
 molest us?" 
 *' God's name !" shouted the hasty and somewhat iras- 
 cible blacksmith ; 
 " Must we in all things look to the how, and the why, 
 
 and the wherefore ? 
 Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the 
 
 strongest T' 
 But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary 
 
 public — 
 ** Man is unjust, but God is just ; but finally justice 
 Triumphs; and well I remember a story, that often 
 
 consoled me. 
 When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at Port 
 
 Koyal." * 
 This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved to 
 
 repeat it 
 When his neighbors complained that any injustice was 
 
 done them. 
 " Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer 
 
 remember, 
 Kaised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice 
 hJtood in the public square, upholding the scales in it? 
 
 left hand, 
 
196 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice 
 presided 
 
 Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and homes of 
 the people. 
 
 Even the birds had built their nests in the scales of the 
 balance. 
 
 Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the sun- 
 shine above them. 
 
 But in the course of tmie the laws of the land were 
 corrupted ; 
 
 Might took the place of right, and the weak were 
 oppressed, and the mighty 
 
 Buled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a noble- 
 man's palace 
 
 That a necklace of pearls was lost, and ere long a 
 suspicion 
 
 JFell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the house- 
 hold. 
 
 She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold, 
 
 Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of 
 Justice. 
 
 As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit ascended. 
 
 Lo ! o'er the city a tempest rose ; and the bolts of the 
 thunder 
 
 Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from 
 its left hand 
 
 Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of 
 the balance. 
 
THE FIFTH READER 197 
 
 And in tlie hollow thereof was found the nest of a 
 
 magpie, 
 Into whose claj-built walls the necklace of pearls was 
 
 inwoven." 
 Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, 
 
 the blacksmith 
 Stood like a man who fain would speak, but findeth no 
 
 language ; 
 All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face, 
 
 as the vapors 
 Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in the 
 
 winter. 
 2. Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the 
 
 table. 
 Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home- 
 brewed 
 Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the 
 
 village of Grand-Pre ; 
 While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and 
 
 inkhom. 
 Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the 
 
 parties. 
 Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and 
 
 in cattle. 
 Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were 
 
 completed. 
 And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the 
 
 margin. 
 
A 
 
 TUE FIFTH Ill-AJjEIl. 
 
 Tlien from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the 
 
 table 
 Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver \ 
 And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and the 
 
 bridegrooin, 
 Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their 
 
 welfare. 
 Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed and 
 
 departed, 
 While in silence the others sat and mused by the 
 
 fireside. 
 Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of its 
 
 comer. 
 Soon was the game begun. In friendly coiitention the 
 
 old men 
 Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful maneuver, 
 Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach was 
 
 made in the king-row. 
 
 • » « * • 
 
 • • « ^ 
 
 • • « • 4e 
 
 Silently one by one, in the infinite meadow's of 
 
 heaven, 
 Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the 
 angels, k^^^ 
 
THE FIFTH READEB. 199 
 
 *S. Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell 
 
 from the belfry 
 Kang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and 
 
 straightway 
 Rose the guests and departed ; and silence reigned in 
 
 the household. 
 Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the 
 
 doorstep 
 Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with 
 
 gladness. 
 Carefully then were covered the embers that glowed on 
 
 the hearth-stone, 
 And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of the 
 
 farmer. 
 Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline 
 
 followed. 
 Up the stair-case moved a luminous space in the 
 
 darkness. 
 Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the 
 
 maiden. 
 Silent she passed the hall, and entered the door of hei 
 
 chamber. 
 Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, 
 
 and its clothes-press 
 Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were 
 
 carefully folded 
 Linen and woolen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline 
 
 woven. 
 
200 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 This was the precious dower she would bring to het 
 
 husband in marriage, 
 Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill 
 
 as a housewife. 
 Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and 
 
 radiant moonlight 
 Streamed through the windows, and lighted the room, 
 
 tni the heart of the maiden 
 Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides 
 
 of the ocean. 
 
THE FIFTH READEB. 201 
 
 XXXVI.— EVANGELINE.— Continued. 
 
 1. Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on tlie village 
 
 of Grand-Pre. 
 Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of 
 
 Minas, 
 Where the ships, with their waving shadows, were 
 
 riding at anchor. 
 Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous 
 
 labor 
 Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates 
 
 of the morning. 
 Now from the country around, from the farms and 
 
 neighboring hamlets, 
 Came in their holiday dresses the bUthe Acadian 
 
 peasants. 
 Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the 
 
 young folk 
 Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous 
 
 meadows, • • 
 
 Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels 
 
 in the greensward, 
 Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on 
 
 the highway. 
 Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor were 
 
 silenced. 
 
'^in TflE FIFTH READER. 
 
 TliroDged wore the streets with people ; and noisy 
 
 groujDS at the house-doors 
 Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped 
 
 together. 
 Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and 
 
 feasted ; 
 For with this simple people, who lived like brothers 
 
 together, 
 AJl things were held in common, and what one had was 
 
 another's. 
 Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more 
 
 abundant : 
 For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father ; 
 Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome 
 
 and gladness 
 Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she 
 
 gave it. 
 2. Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the 
 
 orchard, 
 Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of be- 
 trothal. 
 There in the shade of the porch were the priest and 
 
 the notary seated ; 
 There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil tiio 
 
 blacksmith. 
 Not far withdrawn fi'om these, by the cider-press and 
 
 the beel lives, 
 
THE FIFTH EEADEK. 203 
 
 Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of 
 
 . hearts and of waistcoats. 
 Shadow and light fi:om the leaves alternately played 
 
 on his snow-white 
 Hair, as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face of the 
 
 fiddler 
 Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown 
 
 from the embers. 
 Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of the 
 
 fiddle, 
 Tous les Bourgeois de Chn.rtres^ and Le Carillon de 
 
 DunJcerque, 
 And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the 
 
 music. 
 Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the diz^y 
 
 dances 
 Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the 
 
 meadows ; 
 Old folk and young together, and children mingled 
 
 among them. 
 * Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's 
 
 daughter ! 
 Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the black- 
 smith ! 
 3. So passed the morning away. And lo ! with a 
 
 summons sonorous 
 Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadow3 
 
 a drnin-beat. 
 
204 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Thronged erelong was the church with men. Without, 
 
 in the church-yard, 
 Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and 
 
 hung on the head-stones 
 Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from 
 
 the forest. 
 Then came the guard from the ships, and marching 
 
 proudly among them 
 Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant 
 
 clangor 
 Echoed the sound of the brazen drums from ceiling 
 
 and casement, — 
 Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous 
 
 portal 
 Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the 
 
 soldiers. 
 Then up rose their commander, and spake from the 
 
 steps of the altar, 
 Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal 
 
 commission. 
 " You are convened this day," he said, " by his Ma- 
 jesty's orders. 
 Clement and kind has he been; but how you have 
 
 answered his kindness, 
 Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural make and 
 
 my temper 
 Painful the task is I do, wlpch to you I know must be 
 
 grievous. 
 

 THE FIFTH RF.ADLIl. 205 
 
 Yet must 1 bow and obey, and deli^ er the will of our 
 
 monarch ; 
 Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle 
 
 of all kinds 
 Forfeited be to the crown ; and that you yourselves 
 
 from this province 
 Bo transported to other lands. God grant you may 
 
 dwell there 
 Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable 
 
 people ! 
 Prisoners now I declare you ; for such is his Majesty's 
 
 pleasure !" 
 As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of 
 
 summer, 
 Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the 
 
 hailstones 
 Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and shatters 
 
 his windows, 
 Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch 
 
 from the house-roofs. 
 Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break tbeii enclo- 
 sures ; 
 So on the hearts of the people descended the words of 
 
 the speaker. 
 Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and 
 
 then rose 
 Louder and evei louder a wail of sorrow and ancror, 
 
20G THE FIFTH KEADEK 
 
 And, by one impulse moved, tliej madly ruslied to the 
 
 doorway. 
 Vain was tlio hope of escape; and cries and fierce 
 
 imprecations 
 Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er the 
 
 heads of the others 
 Elose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the 
 
 blacksmith, 
 A-S, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 
 Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; and 
 
 wildly he shouted, — 
 ** Down with the tyrants of England ! we never have 
 
 sworn them allegiance ! 
 Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes 
 
 and our harvests !" 
 More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand 
 
 of a soldier 
 Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to 
 the pavement. 
 4. In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry 
 contention, 
 Lol the door of the chancel opened, and Father 
 
 Felician 
 Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of 
 
 the altar. 
 Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed 
 into silence 
 
THE FIFTH KEADER. 207 
 
 A.11 that clamorous throng ; and thus he spake to his 
 
 people ; 
 Deep were his tones and solemn ; in accents measured 
 
 and mournful 
 Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarm, distinctly the 
 
 clock strikes : 
 * What is tli^s that ye do, my children ? what madness 
 
 has seized you ? 
 Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and 
 
 taught you. 
 Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another ! 
 Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers 
 
 and privations ? 
 Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and 
 
 forgiveness ? 
 This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would 
 
 you profane it 
 Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with 
 
 hatred? 
 Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing 
 
 upon you ! 
 See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy 
 
 compassion ! 
 Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ' O 
 
 Father, forgive them !' 
 Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked 
 
 assail us. 
 
208 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Let US repeat it now, and say, * O Father, foreave 
 
 them!'" 
 Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in ^the hearts 
 
 of his people 
 Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the pas- 
 sionate outbreak. 
 While they repeated his prayer, and said« " Facher, 
 
 forgive them !" 
 Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed 
 
 from the altar. 
 Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the 
 
 people responded. 
 Not with their Hps alone, but their hearts ; and tLo 
 
 Ave Maria 
 Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with 
 
 devotion translated, 
 Bose on the ardor of prayer, like EUjah ascending; to 
 
 heaven. 
 6. Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidiiigs 
 
 of ill, and on all sides 
 Wandered, wailing from house to house, the women 
 
 and children. 
 Long at her father's door Evangeline stood with her 
 
 right hand 
 Shielding her eyes from the level rays of th< sun, that 
 
 descending, 
 Lighted the tillage street with mysterious splendor 
 
 and roofod each 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 209 
 
 feasant's cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned 
 
 its windows. 
 Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on 
 
 the table ; 
 There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant 
 
 with wild-flowers ; 
 There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh 
 
 brought from the dairy ; 
 And, at the head of the board, the great arm-chair of 
 
 the farmer. 
 Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, as the 
 
 sunset 
 Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad am- 
 brosial meadows. 
 Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen, 
 And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial 
 
 ascended, — 
 Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, 
 
 and patience ! 
 Then, all-forgetful of self, she wandered into the 
 
 village. 
 Cheering with looks and worda the mournful hearts of 
 
 the women, 
 As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they 
 
 departed, 
 Urged by tlieir household cares, and the woary feet of 
 
 their children. 
 
210 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmer- 
 ing vapors 
 
 Veiled ilie light, of his face, like the Prophet descend- 
 ing from Sinai. 
 
 Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelas 
 sounded. 
 6. Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evan- 
 geline lingered. 
 
 All was silent within ; and in vain at the -door and the 
 windows 
 
 Stood she, and listened and looked, till, overcome by 
 emotion, 
 
 «* Gabriel !" cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; but 
 no answer 
 
 Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier 
 grave of the living. 
 
 Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house 
 of her father. 
 
 Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board was 
 the supper untasted. 
 
 Empty and drear was each room, and haunted "with 
 phantoms of terror. 
 
 Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her 
 chamber. 
 
 In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate 
 rain fall 
 
 Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by 
 the whidow. 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH KEADEIi. 211 
 
 Keenly the ligLtning flashed : and the voice of the 
 
 echoing thunder 
 Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the 
 
 world He created ! 
 Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the 
 
 justice of Heaven ; 
 Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully 
 
 slumbered till morning. 
 
 XXXVn. —EVANGELINE. —Continued. 
 
 1. Four times the sun had risen and set ; and now 
 
 on the fifth day 
 Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the 
 
 farm house. 
 Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful 
 
 procession, 
 Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the 
 
 Acadian women, 
 Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to 
 
 the sea- shore. 
 Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their 
 
 dwellings. 
 Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road 
 
 and the woodland. 
 Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on 
 
 the oxen. 
 
212 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 While in their hands they clasped some fragments oi 
 
 playthings. 
 2. Thus to the Gaspereau^s mouth they hurried ' 
 
 and there on the sea-beach 
 Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the 
 
 peasants. 
 All day long between the shore and the ships did the 
 
 boats ply ; 
 All day long the wains came laboring down from the 
 
 village. 
 Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his 
 
 setting, 
 Echoed far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from 
 
 the churchyard. 
 Thither the women and children thronged. On a 
 
 siidden the church-doors 
 Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in 
 
 gloamy procession 
 Followed me long-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian 
 
 farma*s. 
 Even as lilgrims, who journey afar from their homes 
 
 ancitheir country, 
 Sing as the/>go, and in singing forget they are weary 
 
 and way^vorn, 
 So "with songs bn their lips the Acadian peasants 
 
 descended 
 Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives 
 
 and their daughters. 
 
THE riFill liEADKll. 213 
 
 Foremost the young men came ; auJ, raising together 
 
 their voices, 
 Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic 
 
 Missions : — 
 " Sacred heart of the Saviour ! O inexhaustible 
 
 fountain ! 
 Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission 
 
 and patience !'* 
 Then the old men, as they marched, and the women 
 
 that stood by the wayside 
 Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the 
 
 sunshine above them 
 Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits 
 
 departed. 
 3. Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited 
 
 in silence, 
 Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of 
 
 affliction, — 
 Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession 
 
 approached her, . 
 And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. 
 Tears then filled her eyes, and eagerly running to 
 
 meet him. 
 Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his 
 
 shoulder, and whispered, — } 
 ** Gabriel ! be of good cheer ! foii if we love one 
 
 another, 
 
 L 
 
214 TFTE FTFTIT RKADER. • 
 
 Nothing, in truth, can lianii us, whatever mischances 
 
 may happen !" 
 Smiling she spake these words ; then suddenly paused, 
 
 for her father 
 Saw she slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed was 
 
 his aspect ! 
 Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from 
 
 his eye, and his footstep 
 Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy heart in 
 
 his bosom. 
 But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped hig neck and 
 
 embraced him, 
 Speaking words of endearment where words of com- 
 fort availed not. 
 Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that 
 mournful procession. 
 4. There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir 
 
 embarking. 
 Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the confusion 
 Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, 
 
 too late, saw their children 
 Left on the land, extending their arms, v^iCh wildest 
 
 entreaties. 
 So unto separate ships were Basil and Ga-briel carried, 
 While in despair on the shore Evan^'eline stood with 
 
 her father. 
 Half the task was not done when T?,e sun went down 
 and the twilight 
 
^B THE FIFTH READFJl, 215 
 
 Deepened and darkened around; and in haste tLe 
 
 refluent ocean 
 FJed away from the shore, and left the line of the sand 
 
 beach 
 Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and slippery 
 
 sea-weed. 
 Farther back in the midst of the household goods and 
 
 the wagons. 
 Like to a gypsy camp, or a'leaguer after a battle, 
 All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near 
 
 them, 
 Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian 
 
 farmers. 
 Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing 
 
 ocean. 
 Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and 
 
 leaving 
 Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of thf, 
 
 sailors. 
 Then, as the night descended, the herds returned fro«j 
 
 their pastures ; 
 Sweet was the moist still air with the odoi of milk 
 
 from their udders ; 
 Lowing they waited, and, at the well-known bars of 
 
 the farm-yard, — 
 ^ aited and looked in Vain for the voice and the hand 
 
 of the milkmaid, 
 
2l J THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Siience reigned in the streets; from the church no 
 
 Angelas sounded, 
 Robe no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights 
 
 from the windows. 
 6. But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires 
 
 had been kindled. 
 Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from 
 
 wrecks in the tempest. 
 Eouni them shapes of gloom and sorrowful facea 
 
 were gathered, 
 Voicewi of women were heard, and of men, and the 
 
 crying of children. 
 Onwar'd from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth, in 
 
 his parish, 
 Wandered the faithful priest, consoUng and blessing 
 
 and cheering, 
 Lika unto shipwrecked Paul on Mehta's desolate sea- 
 shore. 
 Thufe he approached the place where Evangeline sat 
 
 with her father. 
 And la the flickering light beheld the face of the old 
 
 man, 
 Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either 
 
 thought or emotion, 
 E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have 
 
 been taken. 
 Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to 
 
 cheer him. 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH READER 217 
 
 Vainly offered liim food ; yet be moved not, he looked 
 
 not, he spake not, 
 But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering 
 
 fire-light. 
 " BeTiedicite /" murmured the priest, in tones of com- 
 passion. 
 More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, 
 
 and his accents 
 Faltered and paused on his Ups, as the feet of a child 
 
 on a threshold, 
 Hushed by the scene he beholds, and ^the awful 
 
 presence of sorrow. 
 Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the 
 
 maiden, 
 Kaising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that above 
 
 them 
 Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and 
 
 sorrows of mortals. 
 Then sat he dowH at her side, and they wept together 
 
 in silence, 
 6. Suddenly /jse from the south a light, as in 
 
 auturart the blood-red 
 Moon clim'jc the crystal walls of h6aven, and o'er the 
 
 Lonzon 
 TitftD -iike stretches its hundred hands upon mountain 
 
 and meadow, 
 Seizmg the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge 
 
 shadows together. 
 
21S TSE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Broader and ever broader it gleamed on tlie roofs of 
 
 the village, 
 Gleamed on the skj and the sea, and the ships that- 
 lay in the roadstead. 
 Oolumns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame 
 
 were 
 .thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the 
 
 quivering hands of a martyr. 
 Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning 
 
 thatch, and, uplifting, 
 Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a 
 
 hundred house-tops 
 Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flames 
 
 intermingled. 
 7. These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the 
 
 shore and on shipboard. 
 Speechless at "first they stood, then cried aloud in their 
 
 anguish, 
 ** "We shall behold no more our homes in the village of 
 
 Grand-Pr^ !" 
 Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the 
 
 Jarm-yards, 
 Thinking the day had dawned : and anon the lowing 
 
 of cattle 
 Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs 
 
 interrupted. 
 Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the 
 
 sleeping encampments 
 
THE FIFIH HEADER. 219 
 
 Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt the 
 
 Nebraska, 
 When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the 
 
 speed of the whirlwind, 
 Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the 
 
 river. 
 Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the 
 
 herds and the horses 
 Broke through their folds and fences, and madly 
 
 rushed o'er the meadows. 
 8. Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the 
 
 priest and the maiden 
 Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and 
 
 widened before them ; 
 And as they turned at length to speak to their silent 
 
 companion, 
 Lo ! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad 
 
 on the sea-shore 
 Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had de^ 
 
 parted. 
 Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the 
 
 maiden ^ 
 
 Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in hei 
 
 terror. 
 Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on 
 
 his bosom. 
 TJhrough the long night she lay in deep, oblivious 
 slumbeif 
 
220 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 And when sne woke from the trance, she beheld a 
 
 multitude near her. 
 Faces of friends she beheld, that were monmfully 
 
 gazing upon her, 
 Pallid with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest com- 
 passion. 
 Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the 
 
 landscape, 
 Eeddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces 
 
 around her, 
 And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering 
 
 senses. 
 Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the 
 
 people, — 
 " Let us bury him here by the sea. "When a happier 
 
 season 
 Brings us again to our homes from the unknown land 
 
 of our exile, 
 Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the 
 
 churchyard." 
 Such were the words of the priest. And there in haste 
 
 by the seaside, 
 Having the glare of the burning village for funeral 
 
 torches. 
 But without l?ell or book, they buried the farmer of 
 
 Grand-Pre. 
 Ind as the voice of the priest repeated the service of 
 sorrow, 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 221 
 
 Lo I with a mournful sound, like the voice of a vast 
 
 congregation, 
 Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with 
 
 the dirges. 
 'Twas the returning tide, that afar from ths waste of 
 
 the ocean. 
 With the first dawn of day, came heaving and hurrying* 
 
 landward. 
 Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of 
 
 embarking ; 
 And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed ont of 
 
 the harbor, 
 Leaving behind them the dead on the snore, and the 
 
 village in ruins. 
 
 XXXVin. -EVANGELINE. —Continued. 
 
 1. Many a weary year had passed since the burning 
 of Grand-Pre, 
 
 When on the falling tide the freighted vessels de- 
 parted, 
 
 Bearing a nation, with all its household gods into 
 exile. 
 
 Exile without an end, and mthout an example in 
 story, 
 
 Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed ; 
 
 Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the 
 wind from the northeast 
 
222 THE FTFTH READEB. 
 
 Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks 
 
 of Newfoundland* 
 Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from 
 
 city to city. 
 From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern 
 
 savannas^ — 
 From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where 
 
 the Father of Waters 
 Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to 
 
 the ocean, 
 Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the 
 
 mammoth. 
 Friends they sought and homes ; and many, despair- 
 ing, heart-broken. 
 Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend 
 
 nor a fireside. 
 Written their history stands on tablets oi stone in the 
 
 churchyards. 
 Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and 
 
 wandered. 
 Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all 
 
 things. 
 Fair was she and young ; but, alas I before her ex- 
 tended, 
 Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its 
 
 pathway 
 Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and 
 
 suffered before her 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 THE FIFTH READEB. 
 
 Pdfeisionb long extinguislied, and hopes long dead and 
 
 abandoned, 
 As the emigrant'^ way o'er the Western desert is 
 
 marked by- 
 Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in 
 
 tEe sunshine. 
 Something there wai3 in her life incomplete, imperfect, 
 
 unfinished ; 
 A.S if a morning of June, with all its music and sun- 
 shine, 
 Suddenly paused in the sky, and fading, slowly des- 
 cended 
 Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. 
 Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by tho 
 
 fever within her. 
 Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of 
 
 the spirit, 
 She would commence again her endless search and 
 
 endeavor ; 
 Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the 
 
 crosses and tombstones, 
 Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps 
 
 in its bosom 
 He was already at rest, and she longed to slumbet 
 
 beside him. 
 Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper. 
 Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her for • 
 
 ward. 
 
2^ THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her 
 
 beloved and known him, 
 But it was long ago, in some far-o£f place or forgotten. 
 " Gabriel Lajeunesse !" they said ; " O yes ! we have 
 
 seen him. 
 He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone 
 
 to the prairies ; 
 Coureurs-des-Bois^ are they, and famous hunters and 
 
 trappers." 
 " Gabriel Lajeunesse I" said others ; " O yes ! we have 
 
 seen him. 
 He is a Yoyageur^ in the lowlands of Louisiana." [ 
 Then would they say, " Dear child ! why dream and 
 
 wait for him longer ? 
 Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel ? others 
 Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as 
 
 loyal ? 
 Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has 
 
 loved thee 
 Many a tedious year ; come, give him thy hand and bb 
 
 happy ! 
 Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's 
 
 tresses." 
 Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, 
 
 "I cannot! 
 Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand 
 
 and not elsewhere. 
 
I 
 
 tttt: ftfth nFAD'T-T?. *22i 
 
 For when the hoait goes before, like n lamp, and 
 ^P illumines the pathway, 
 
 Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in 
 ^^ darkness." 
 
 ^P Thereupon the priest, her friend and father-confessor. 
 Said with a smile, " O daughter ! thy God thus 
 
 speaketh within thee ! 
 Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was 
 
 wasted ; 
 If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, re- 
 turning 
 Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full 
 
 of refreshment ; 
 That which the fountain sends forth returns again to 
 
 the fountain. 
 Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy work 
 
 of affection ! 
 Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance 
 
 is godlike. 
 Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is 
 
 made godlike, 
 Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more 
 
 worthy of heaven l" 
 Cheered by the good man's words, EvangeHne labored 
 
 and waited. 
 Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the 
 
 ocean, 
 
226 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 But w'itli its sound there was miDglecl a voice that 
 
 whispered, " Despair not I" 
 Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless 
 
 discomfort, 
 Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and tliorns of 
 
 existence. 
 Let me essay, O Muse ! to follow the wanderer's foot- 
 steps ; — 
 Not through each devious path, each changeful year of 
 
 existence ; 
 But as a traveler follows a streamlet's course through 
 
 the valley : 
 Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of 
 
 its water 
 Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals 
 
 only; 
 Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms 
 
 that conceal it. 
 Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous 
 
 murmur ; 
 Happy, at length, if he find the spot where it reaches. 
 
 an outlet. 
 
 « Sa-van'-na, an extensive open 
 plain ; a meadow. 
 CouEEUK-DEs-Bois, ramblers of 
 the woods. 
 
 3 VoYAGEUB, a traveler ; the name 
 given to a class of men employ, 
 ed in transporting goods by the 
 rivers and across the land. 
 
. THE FIFTH READER. 227 
 
 XXXIX. -EVANGELINE. -Ccntinxjed. 
 
 ^^■^l. It was the month of May. Far down the BeAuti- 
 ^P ful Eiver, 
 
 P» si the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash, 
 In o the golden stream of the broad and swift 
 
 Mississippi, 
 Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian 
 
 boatmen. 
 It was a band of exiles : a raft, as it were, from the 
 
 shipwrecked 
 Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together 
 Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a common 
 
 misfortune ; 
 Men and women and children, who, guided by hope or 
 
 hearsay, 
 Sought for their kith and their kin among the few-acred 
 
 farmers 
 On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Opelousas. 
 
 With them Evangeline went, and her guide, the Father 
 Felician. 
 
 Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness som- 
 bre with forests. 
 
 Day after day they glided adown the turbulent river ; 
 
 Night after night, by the blazing fires, encamped on its 
 borders. 
 
 Now tlirough rushing chutes, among green island^^, 
 wliere plumelike 
 
228 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Cotton-trees nodded tlieir sliadowy crests, tliey swept 
 with the current, 
 
 Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sand- 
 bars 
 
 -»-0' m the stream, and along the wimpling waves of 
 their margin. 
 
 Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pelicans 
 waded. 
 
 Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of the 
 river, 
 
 Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant 
 gardens. 
 
 Stood the houses of planters, with negro cabins and 
 dove-cots. 
 
 They were approaching the region where reigns per- 
 petual summer. 
 
 Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of orange 
 and citron, 
 
 Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the east- 
 ward. 
 
 They, too, swerved from their course ; and, entering the 
 Bayou of Plaquemine, 
 
 Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious 
 waters. 
 
 Which, hke a network of steel, extended -in every direc- 
 tion. 
 
 Over their heads the towering and tenebrous^ bough 8 of 
 the cypress 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 229 
 
 Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid-air 
 Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient 
 
 cathedrals. 
 Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save by 
 
 the herons 
 Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning at 
 
 sunset, 
 Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with demoniac 
 
 laughter. 
 Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed 
 
 on the water. 
 Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining 
 
 the arches, 
 Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through 
 
 chinks in a ruin. 
 Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things 
 
 around them ; 
 And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder 
 
 and sadness — 
 Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot be 
 
 compassed. 
 As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the 
 
 prairies, 
 Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking 
 
 mimosa,'^ 
 Sg, at the hoof- beats of fate, with sad forebodings of 
 
 evil, 
 
230 THE FIFTH HEADER. 
 
 Bhrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom 
 
 has attained it. 
 But Evangehne's heart was sustained by a vision, that 
 
 faintly 
 Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on througli 
 
 the moonhght. 
 It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape 
 
 of a phantom. 
 Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wandered 
 
 before her, 
 And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer 
 
 and nearer. 
 2. Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose 
 
 one of the oarsmen, 
 And, as a signal sound, if others hke them peradventure 
 Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a 
 
 blast on his bugle. 
 Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy 
 
 the blast rang, 
 Breaking the seal of silence, and giving tongues to tho 
 
 forest. 
 Soundless above thym the banners of moss just stirred 
 
 to the music. 
 Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance, 
 Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant 
 
 branches : 
 But not a voice replied ; no answer came from the 
 
 darkness ; 
 
THE FIFTH BEADEIi. ' 231 
 
 And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pam 
 was the silence. 
 
 Then Evangehne slept; but the* boatmen rowed 
 through the midnight, 
 
 Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat- 
 songs. 
 
 Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers, 
 
 While through the night were heard the mysterious 
 sounds of the desert, 
 
 Far off, — indistinct, — as of wave or wind in the forest, 
 
 Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the 
 grim alligator. 
 3. Thus ere another noon they emerged from the 
 shades ; and before them 
 
 Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchaf alay a. 
 
 Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undula- 
 tions 
 
 Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, 
 the lotus 
 
 Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the 
 boatmen. 
 
 Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia 
 blossoms. 
 
 And with the heat of noon; and numberless sylvau 
 islands, 
 
 Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming 
 hedges of roses. 
 
232 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Near to whose shores thej glided along, invited ttt 
 
 slumber. 
 Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were 
 
 suspended. 
 Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by 
 
 the margin, 
 Safely their boat was moored ; and scattered about on 
 
 the greensward, 
 Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travelers 
 
 slumbered. 
 Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar. 
 Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and 
 
 the grape-vine 
 Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of 
 
 Jacob, 
 On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, 
 
 descending, 
 Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom 
 
 to blossom. 
 Such was the vision EvangeHne saw as she slumbered 
 
 beneath it. 
 Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an 
 
 opening heaven 
 Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions 
 
 celestial. 
 4. Nearer and ever nearer, among the numberless 
 
 islands, 
 
 t< 
 
 =>j' 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 233 
 
 Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the 
 
 water, 
 Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and 
 
 trappers. 
 Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison 
 
 and beaver, 
 At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful 
 
 and careworn. 
 Dark and neglected looks overshadowed his brow, and 
 
 a sadness 
 Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly 
 
 written. 
 Gabriel was it, who, weary with w'aiting, unhappy and 
 
 restless. 
 Sought in the Western wilds obHvion of self and of 
 
 sorrow. 
 Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the 
 
 island. 
 But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of 
 
 palmettos. 
 So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed 
 
 in the willows. 
 All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, 
 
 were the sleepers, 
 Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering 
 
 maiden. 
 Swiftly tlie}^ glided away, like the shade of a cloud on 
 
 the prairie. 
 
231 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 After the sound of their oars on the tholes^ had died in 
 
 the distance, 
 As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the 
 
 maiden 
 Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, "O Father 
 
 Felician ! 
 Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel 
 
 wanders. 
 5. Is it a fooUsh dream, an idle and vague super- 
 stition? 
 Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my 
 
 spirit ?" 
 Then^ with a blush,' she added, "Alas for my credulous 
 
 fancy ! 
 Unto ears like thine such words as these have no 
 
 meaning." 
 But made answer the reverend man, and he sanlied as 
 
 he answered, — 
 " Daughter, thy words are not idle ; nor are they to 
 
 me without meaning. 
 Feeling is deep and stiU ; and the word that floats on 
 
 the surface 
 Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor 
 
 is hidden. 
 Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world 
 
 calls illusions ; 
 Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far away io chd 
 
 southward. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 235 
 
 On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur 
 
 and St. Martin. 
 There the long-wandering bride shall be given again 
 
 to her bridegroom, 
 There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his 
 
 sheepfold. 
 Beautiful is the land, with prairies and forests of fruit- 
 trees ; 
 Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of 
 
 heavens 
 Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of 
 
 the forest. 
 They who dwell there have named it the Eden of 
 
 Louisiana." 
 6. With these words of cheer they arose and con- 
 tinued their journey. 
 Softly the evening came. The sun from the western 
 
 horizon 
 Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the 
 
 landscape ; 
 Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and forest 
 Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and 
 
 mingled together, 
 Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of 
 
 silver. 
 Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the 
 
 motionless water. 
 
23b THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Filled was Eyangeline's heart with inexpressible sweet- 
 ness. 
 Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of 
 
 feeling 
 Glowed with the Ught of love, as the skies and waters 
 
 around her. 
 Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, 
 
 wildest of singers, 
 Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the 
 
 water. 
 Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious 
 
 music, 
 That the whole air and the woods and the waves 
 
 seemed silent to listen. 
 Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then soaring 
 
 to madness 
 Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied 
 
 Bacchantes. 
 Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low 
 
 lamentation ; 
 Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad 
 
 in derision, 
 ks when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the 
 
 tree-tops 
 Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on 
 
 the branches. . 
 With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed 
 
 with emotion, 
 
THE riFTH in.ADElL 237 
 
 Slowlj tLey entered the Tccbe, uliere it flows through 
 the green Opelousas, 
 
 And, through the amber air, above the crest of the 
 woodland. 
 
 Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighbor- 
 ing dwelling ; — 
 
 Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing 
 of cattle. 
 
 > Ten'-e-beous, dark, gloomy. 
 
 « Mi-Mo'-sA, the sensitive plant so 
 called from its imitating the sen- 
 sibility of animal life. 
 
 3 Thole, a pin inserted into the 
 gunwale of a boat to keep the 
 oar in the row-lock when used 
 in rowing. 
 
 XL. —EVANGELINE. —Continued. 
 
 1. Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by 
 
 oaks, from whose branches 
 Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe 
 
 flaunted. 
 Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at 
 
 Yule-tide, 
 Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman, 
 
 — a garden 
 Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant 
 
 blossoms. 
 Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was 
 
 of timbers 
 Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted 
 
 together. 
 
238 THE FIFTH READEU. 
 
 Large and low was the roof ; and on slender columns 
 
 supported, 
 Eose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious 
 
 veranda. 
 Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended 
 
 around it. 
 At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the 
 
 garden, 
 Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual 
 
 symbol. 
 Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of 
 
 rivals. 
 Silence reigned o*er the place. The linepf shadow 
 
 and sunshine 
 Ban near the tops of the trees ; but the house itself 
 
 was in shadow, 
 And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly 
 
 * expanding 
 Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke 
 
 rose. 
 In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a 
 
 pathway 
 Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the 
 
 limitless prairie, 
 Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly de- 
 scending. 
 Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy 
 
 canvas 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH READER. 281- 
 
 flanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm 
 
 in the tropics, 
 Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage c»f 
 
 grape-vines. 
 2. Just where the woodlands met the flowery sirf of 
 
 the prairie. 
 Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and 
 
 stirrups. 
 Sat a herdsman, aiTayed in gaiters and doublet of 
 
 deerskin. 
 Broad and brown was the face that from under the 
 
 Spanish sombrero^ 
 Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its 
 
 master. 
 Round about him were numberless herds of kine, that 
 
 were grazing 
 Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the Tapory 
 
 freshness 
 That uprose from the river, and spread itself over tho 
 
 landscape. 
 Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and 
 
 expanding 
 Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that 
 
 resounded 
 Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air 
 
 of the evening. < 
 
 Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns ot' the 
 
 cattle 
 
240 THE FiFrn re^vdek. 
 
 Hose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents ol 
 
 ocean. . 
 Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed 
 
 o'er the prairie, 
 And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the 
 
 distance. 
 Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through 
 
 the gate of the garden 
 Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advanc- 
 ing to meet him: 
 Suddenly down frown his horse he sprang in amaze- 
 ment, and forward 
 Kushed with extended arms and exclamations of 
 
 wonder ; 
 When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the 
 
 blacksmith. 
 Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the 
 
 garden. 
 There in an arbor of roses with endless question and 
 
 answer 
 Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their 
 
 friendly embraces, 
 Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and 
 
 thoughtful. 
 Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not ; and now dark 
 
 doubts and misgivings 
 Stole o'er the maiden's heart ; and Basil, somewhat 
 
 embarrassed. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 241 
 
 \r6ke the silence and said, " if you came by the 
 
 Atchafalaya, 
 How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat 
 
 on the bayous ?" 
 Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade 
 
 passed. 
 Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a 
 
 tremulous accent, 
 " Gone ? is Gabriel gone ?" and, concealing her face on 
 
 his shoulder, 
 A.11 her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept 
 
 and lamented. 
 Then the good Basil said, — and his voice grew blithe 
 
 as he said it, — 
 '* Be of good cheer, my child ; it is only to-day he 
 
 departed. 
 Foolish boy ! he has left me alone with my herds and 
 
 my horses. 
 Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his 
 
 spirit 
 Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet 
 
 existence. 
 Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever, 
 Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles. 
 He at length had become so tedious to men and to 
 ^ maidens, 
 Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, 
 
 and sent him 
 
242 • THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 dnto the to\\^ of xldajes to trade for mules with tho 
 
 Spaniards. r 
 
 Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark 
 
 Mountains, 
 Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the 
 
 beaver. 
 Therefore be of good cheer ; we will follow the fugitive 
 
 lover ; '^ 
 
 He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the 
 
 streams are against him. 
 Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of 
 
 the morning 
 We will follow him fast and bring him back to hia 
 
 prison." 
 3. Then glad voices were heard, and up from the 
 
 banks of the river, 
 Borne aloft on his comrades* arms, came Michael the 
 
 fiddler. 
 Long under Basil's roof had he lived like a god on 
 
 Olympus, 
 Having no other care than dispensing music to 
 
 mortals. 
 Far renowned was he, for his silver locks and his 
 
 fiddle. 
 " Long live Michael," they cried, " our brave Acadian 
 
 minstrel !" 
 As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; and 
 
 straightway 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 243 
 
 Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting 
 
 the old man 
 Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil 
 
 enraptured, 
 Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and 
 
 gossips. 
 Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and 
 
 daughters. 
 Much they marveled to see the wealth of the ci-devant 
 
 blacksmith. 
 All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal 
 
 demeanor ; 
 Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and 
 
 the climate. 
 And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were his 
 
 who would take them ; 
 Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go 
 
 and do likewise. 
 Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the 
 
 breezy veranda. 
 Entered the hall of the house, where already the 
 
 supper of Basil 
 
 Waited his late return ; and they rested and feasted 
 
 together. 
 * ^< . * * 
 
 4. Bright rose the sun next day and all the flowers 
 of the garden 
 
2M THE FIFl^H KEADER. 
 
 Batlied liis shining feet witli their tears, and anointed 
 
 his tresses 
 "With the deHcious balm that they bore in their vases 
 
 of crystal. 
 "Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the 
 
 shadowy threshold ; 
 "See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his 
 
 fasting and famine, 
 And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the 
 
 bridegroom was coming." 
 " Farewell !" answered the maiden, and smiling, with 
 
 Basil descended 
 Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already 
 
 were waiting. 
 Thus beginning their journey with morning, and 
 
 sunshine, and gladness. 
 Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was 
 
 speeding before them. 
 Blown by the blast of fate, like a dead leaf over the 
 
 desert. 
 Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that 
 
 succeeded. 
 Found they trace of his course, in lake, or forest, or 
 
 river, 
 Nor, after many days, had they found him ; but vague 
 
 and uncertain 
 flumors alone were their guides through a wild and 
 
 desolate country ; 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 245 
 
 Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes, 
 Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the 
 
 garrulous landlord, 
 That on the day before, with horses, and guides, and 
 
 companions. 
 Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the 
 
 prairies. 
 
 Som-bee'-bo, a hat. 
 
 XLL— EVANGELINE.— Continued. 
 
 1. Far in the West there lies a desert land, where 
 
 the mountains 
 Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous 
 
 summits. 
 Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the 
 
 gorge, like a gateway, 
 Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's 
 
 wagon, 
 Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and 
 
 Owyhee. 
 Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind-river 
 
 Mountains, 
 Through the Sweet-water Yalley precipitate leaps the 
 
 Nebraska : 
 And to the south, from Fontaine-que-bout and the 
 
 Spanish sierras, 
 
246 THE FIFTH KEADEK. 
 
 Fretted with sands and rocks, and swbpt bj the wind 
 
 of the desert, 
 Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to 
 
 the ocean. 
 Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn 
 
 vibrations. 
 Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, 
 
 beautiful prairies, 
 Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and 
 
 sunshine, 
 Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple 
 
 amorphas. m 
 
 Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the elk 
 
 and the roebuck : 
 Over them wandered the wolves, and herds of riderless 
 
 horses ; 
 Fires that blast anfl bhght, and winds that are weary 
 
 with travel ; 
 Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's 
 
 children, 
 Staining the desert with blood; and above their 
 
 terrible war trails 
 Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture, 
 Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in 
 
 battle. 
 By invisible stairs ascending and scahng the heavens. 
 Here and there rise smokes from the camps of * Sese 
 
 savage marauders ; 
 
THE FOURTH READER. 247 
 
 Here and there rise groves from tlie margins of swift* 
 
 running rivers ; 
 And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the 
 
 desert, 
 CHmbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the 
 
 brookside, 
 And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline 
 
 heaven, 
 Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them. 
 2. Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark 
 
 Mountains. 
 Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers 
 
 behind him. 
 Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden 
 
 and Basil 
 Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to 
 
 o'ertake him. 
 Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke 
 
 at his camp-fire 
 Rise in the morning air from the distant plain ; but at 
 
 nightfall, 
 When they had reached the place, they found only 
 
 embers and ashes. 
 And, though their hearts were sad at times and their 
 
 bodies were weary, 
 Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana 
 Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and 
 
 vanished before them. 
 
248 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 3, Once, as tney sat by their evening fire, there 
 
 silently entered 
 Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose features 
 Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great as 
 
 her sorrow, 
 ^he was a Shawnee woman returning home to her 
 
 people, 
 From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Oa- 
 
 manches. 
 Where her Canadian husband, a Ooureur-des-Bois, 
 
 had been murdered. 
 Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest 
 
 and friendliest welcome 
 Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and 
 
 feasted among them 
 On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the 
 
 embers. 
 But when their mef\\ was done, and Basil and all his 
 
 companions, 
 Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the 
 
 deer and the bison, 
 Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where 
 
 the quivering fire-Hght 
 Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms 
 
 wrapped up in their blankets. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 249 
 
 XLI (a).— EVANGELINE.— Continued. 
 
 1, Early upon the morrow the march was resumed ; 
 
 and the Shawnee 
 Said, as they journeyed along, " On the western slope 
 
 of these mountains 
 Dwells in his Uttle village the Black Eobe chief of the 
 
 Mission. 
 Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary 
 
 and Jesus ; 
 Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with pain, 
 
 as they hear him." 
 Then with a sudden and secret emotion, Evangeline 
 
 answered, 
 " Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings await 
 
 usr 
 
 Thither they turned their steeds ; and behind a spur 
 
 of the mountains, 
 Just as the sun wot; down, they heard a murmur of 
 
 voices. 
 And in a meadow green and broad, by the banks of a 
 
 river. 
 Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit 
 
 Mission. 
 Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of tix9 
 
 village, 
 
250 THE FIFTH READEB. 
 
 Knelt tlie Black Kobe chief with his childien. A 
 
 crucifix fastened 
 High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by 
 
 grape-vines, 
 Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneel- 
 ing beneath it. 
 This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the 
 
 intricate arches 
 Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers, 
 Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus^ and sighs of 
 
 the branches. 
 Silent, with heads; uncovered, the travelers, nearer ap- 
 proaching, 
 Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening 
 
 devotions 
 But when the service was done, and the benediction 
 
 had fallen 
 Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the 
 
 hands of the sower. 
 Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, 
 
 and bade them 
 Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with 
 
 benignant expression, 
 HeariQg the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue in 
 
 the forest, 
 Apd, with words of kindness, conducted them into his 
 
 wigwam. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 251 
 
 There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on 
 cakes of the maize-ear 
 
 Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd 
 of the teacher. 
 
 Soon was their story told ; and the priest with sol- 
 emnity answered : 
 
 " Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel,* 
 seated 
 
 On this mat by my side, where now the maiden re- 
 poses, 
 
 Told me this same sad tale ; then arose and continued 
 his journey I" 
 
 Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an 
 accent of kindness ; 
 
 But on Evangeline's heart fell ^s words as in winter 
 the snow-flakes 
 
 Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have 
 departed. 
 
 ** Far to the north he has gone," continued the priest ; 
 "but in autumn. 
 
 When the chase is done, will return again to the 
 Mission." 
 
 Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and 
 submissive." 
 
 ** Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and 
 afflicted." 
 
■ 252 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 So seemed it wise and well unto all ; and betimes on 
 
 tlie morrow, 
 Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides 
 
 and companions. 
 Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline staid at the 
 
 Mission, 
 2. Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each 
 
 other, — 
 Days and weeks and months ; and the fields of maize 
 
 that were springing 
 Green from the ground when a stranger she came, now 
 
 waving above her. 
 Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and 
 
 forming 
 CJloisters for mendic%|^ crows and granaries pillaged 
 
 by squirrels. 
 
 * Su'-sus-BUS, a gentle humming sonnd ; a whiiipcr 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 253 
 
 XLI (6).— EVANGELINE.— Continued. " 
 
 1. " Patience !" the priest would say ; " have faith and 
 
 thy prayer will be answered I 
 Look at this delicate plant that lifts its head from the 
 
 meadow, 
 See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true to 
 
 the magnet ; 
 This is the compass flower that the finger of God has 
 
 planted 
 Here in the household wild, to direct the traveler's 
 
 journey 
 Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the 
 
 desert. 
 Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of 
 
 passion, 
 Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of 
 
 fragrance. 
 But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their odor 
 
 is deadly. 
 Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter 
 Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wel with the 
 
 dews of nepenthe." 
 
 2. So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter 
 
 yet Gabriel came n ot ; 
 
254 THE FIFTH BEADER. 
 
 Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of tlia 
 
 robin and bluebird 
 Sounded sweet upon wold' and in wood, yet Gabriel 
 
 came not. 
 But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was 
 
 wafted 
 Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom. 
 Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan 
 
 forests, 
 Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw 
 
 River. 
 And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of 
 
 St. Lawrence, 
 Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the 
 
 Mission. 
 When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches, 
 She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan 
 
 forests, 
 Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to 
 
 ruins ! 
 3. Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in 
 
 seasons and places 
 Divers and distant far was seen the wandering 
 
 maiden ; — 
 Now in the tents of Grace of the meek Moravian 
 
 Missions, 
 Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the 
 
 army, 
 
THE FIFTH READER 255 
 
 Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous 
 
 cities. 
 Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremem- 
 
 bered. 
 Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long 
 
 journey ; 
 Faded was she and old, when in dissappointment it 
 
 ended. 
 Each • succeeding year stole something from her 
 
 beauty, 
 Leaving behiad it, broader and deeper, the gloom and 
 
 the shadow. 
 Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray 
 
 o'er her forehead, 
 Dawn of another .hfe that broke o'er her earthly 
 
 horizon. 
 As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the 
 
 morning. 
 
 » WoiiD, a plain or lawn. 
 
 XLEE,— EVANGELINE.— CoNTiNTJED. • 
 
 1. In that delightful land which is washed by the 
 Delaware's waters, 
 Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the 
 apostle. 
 
256 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he 
 
 founded. 
 There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem 
 
 of beauty, 
 And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of 
 
 the forest, " 
 As if they fain would appease the Dryads whoso 
 
 haunts they molested. 
 There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, 
 
 an exile. 
 Finding among the children of Penn a home and a 
 
 country. 
 There old Eene Leblano had died; and when he 
 
 departed. 
 Saw at his side only one of . all his hundred descend- 
 ants. 
 Something at least there was in the friendly streets of 
 
 the city. 
 Something that spake to her heart, and made her no 
 
 longer a stranger ; 
 And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of 
 
 the Quakers, 
 For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country, 
 Wliere all men were equal, and all were brothers and 
 
 and sisters. 
 So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed en- 
 
 dinv(w, 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 257 
 
 Ended, to rocommence no more upon earth, uncom- 
 plaining. 
 Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned upon her 
 
 thoughts and her footsteps. 
 As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of tho 
 
 morning 
 Roll away, and afar we behold the landscape below us, 
 Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and 
 
 hamlets, 
 So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world 
 
 far below her. 
 Dark no longer, but all illumined with love ; and the 
 
 pathway 
 Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and fair 
 
 in the distance. 
 
 yTiH (a).— EVANGELINB.— OoNTnnjED. 
 
 1. Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to 
 others, 
 
258 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had 
 
 taught her. 
 So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous 
 
 spices, 
 Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with 
 
 aroma. 
 Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to 
 
 follow 
 Meeklj, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of hor 
 
 Saviour. 
 Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; 
 
 frequenting 
 Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the 
 
 city. 
 Where distress and want concealed themselves from 
 % the sunlight. 
 
 Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished 
 
 neglected. 
 Night after night, when the world was asleep, as t]je 
 
 watchman repeated 
 Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well in 
 
 the city, 
 High at some lonely window he saw the light of her 
 
 taper. 
 Day after day, in the gray of the daw^n, as slow 
 
 through the suburbs 
 Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits for 
 
 the market. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 259 
 
 Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its 
 
 watch 
 2. Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the 
 
 city, 
 Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks of 
 
 wild pigeons. 
 Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their 
 
 craws but an acorn. 
 And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of 
 
 September, 
 Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in 
 
 the meacjow. 
 So death flooded* life, and, o'erflowing its natural 
 
 margin. 
 Spread to a brackish lake, the silver stream of 
 
 existence. 
 Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, 
 
 the oppressor ; 
 But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his' 
 
 anger ; — 
 Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends nor 
 
 attendants. 
 Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of tlie 
 
 homeless. 
 Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows 
 
 and woodlands ; — 
 Now the city surjcounds it ; but still, with its gateway 
 
 and wicket 
 
260 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem 
 
 to echo 
 Softly the words of the Lord : — " The poor ye always 
 
 have with you." 
 Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of 
 
 Mercy. The dying 
 Looked up iato her face, and thought, indeed, to 
 
 behold there 
 Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with 
 
 splendor. 
 Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and 
 
 apostles. 
 Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a 
 
 distance. 
 Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city 
 
 celestial, 
 Into whose shining gates ere long their spirits would 
 
 enter. 
 3. Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, 
 
 deserted and silent, 
 Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the 
 
 almshouse. 
 S\\ eet on the summer air was the odor of flowers in the 
 
 garden ; 
 And she paused on her way to gather the fairest 
 
 among them, 
 That the dying once more might rejoice in their 
 
 fragrance and beauty. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 261 
 
 Til 071, ds sli© mounted the stairs to the corridors, 
 
 cooled by the east-wind, 
 Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the 
 
 belfry of Christ Church. 
 While, intermingled with these, across the meadows 
 
 were wafted 
 Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes in 
 
 their church at Wicaco. 
 Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on 
 
 her spirit ; 
 Something within her said, "At length thy trials are- 
 
 ended" ; 
 And, with light in her looks, she entered the chambers 
 
 of sickness. 
 Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attend- 
 ants, 
 Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching brow, and 
 
 in silence 
 Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing 
 
 their faces. 
 Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow 
 
 by the roadside. 
 Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, 
 Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, 
 
 for her presence 
 Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walla 
 
 of a prison. 
 
262 THE FTFTH READER. 
 
 And, as she looked around, slie saw how Death, the 
 
 consoler, 
 Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it 
 
 forever^ 
 
 XLn (&).-GLOBY OF THE EELIQIOUS OBDEES. 
 
 LEIBNITZ. 
 
 Leibnitz was bom in Leipsio in 1646 ; died in 1716. He was an 
 eminent mathematician and pMLosopher. 
 
 Since the glory of God and the happiness of our 
 fellow-creatures may be promoted by various means, 
 by command or by example, according to the con- 
 dition and disposition of each, the advantages of that 
 institution are manifest, by which, besides those who 
 are engaged in active and every-day life, there are 
 also found in the Church ascetic and contemplative 
 men, who, abandoning the cares of life, and trampling 
 its pleasures under foot, devote their whole being to 
 the contemplation of the Deity, and the admiration of 
 his works ; or who freed from personal concerns, apply 
 themselves exclusively to watch and relieve the neces- 
 sities of others; some by instructing the ignorant or 
 erring ; some by assisting the needy and afflicted. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 263 
 
 2. Nor is it the least araongst those marks which 
 commend to us that Church, which alone has pre- 
 served the name and the badges of Catholicity, that we 
 see her alone produce and cherish these illustrious ex- 
 amples of the eminent virtues and of the ascetic life. 
 
 Wherefore, I confess, that I have ardently admired 
 the religious orders, and the pious confraternities, and 
 the other similar admirable institutions ; for they 
 are a sort of celestial soldiery upon earth, provided, 
 corruptions and abuses being removed, they are gov- 
 erned according to the institutes of the founders, and 
 regulated by the supreme Pontiff for the use of the uni- 
 versal Church. 
 
 3. For what can be more glorious than to carry the 
 light of truth to distant nations, through seas and fires 
 and swords — to traffic in the salvation of souls alone, 
 — to forego the allurements of pleasure, and even the 
 enjoyment of conversation and of social intercourse, in 
 order to pursue, undisturbed, the contemplation of ab- 
 struse truths and divine meditation — to dedicate one's 
 self to the education of youth in science and in virtue, 
 — to assist and console the wretched, the despairing, 
 the lost, the captive, the condemned, the sick — in 
 squalor, in chains, in distant lands, — undeterred even 
 by the fear of pestilence from the lavish exercise of 
 these heavenly offices of charity ! 
 
264 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 4:. The man who knows not, or despises these things, 
 has but a vulgar and plebeian conception of virtue : he 
 foolishly measures the obligations of men towards 
 their God by the perfunctory discharge of ordinary 
 duties, and by that frozen habit of life, devoid of zeal, 
 and even of soul, which prevails commonly among 
 men. For it is not a counsel, as some persuade them- 
 selves, but a strict precept, to labor with every power 
 of soul and body, no matter in what condition of life 
 we may be, for the attainment of Christian perfection, 
 with which neither wedlock, nor children, nor public 
 office are incompatible (although they throw difficul- 
 ties in the way); but it is only a counsel to select that 
 state of life which is more free from earthly obstacles, 
 upon which selection our Lord congratulated Magdalen. 
 
 ' Peb-funo'-to-et, slight, careless; done only for the sake of getting 
 rid of the duty. 
 
 To the Eeligions orders we are indebted f r the preservation of 
 ancient literature, and for the culture and elevation of the Fire Arta^ 
 wspeciallj Christian Architecture, Music, and Painting. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 265 
 
 XLIIL-SETTLEI4J;NT of MABIIiAND. 
 
 GKAHAME. 
 
 Liilucnced b}' a desire to provide au asylum for Catholics, then 
 persecuted in England, Sir George Calveit, a Koman Catholic noble- 
 man, whose title was Lord Baltimore, applied for a charter to establish 
 a colony in America. King Charles readily agreed to make the grant, 
 but before the document received the royal seal, Calvert died. It 
 wad then issued to Cecil Calvert, son of Sir George, who by the death 
 of hii? father, inherited the title of Lord Baltimore. The province 
 was called Maryland, in honor of Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I. 
 
 The following is extracted from Grahame's '* Colonial History of 
 the United States." 
 
 1. The first band of emigrantSj consisting of about 
 two hundred gentlemen of considerable rank and 
 fortune, professing the Roman Catholic faith, with a 
 number of inferior adherents, in a vessel called Tlije 
 Ark and the Dove, sailed from England under the com 
 mand of Leonard Calvert, in November, 1633 ; and, 
 after a prosperous voyage, reached the coast of Mary- 
 land, near the mouth of the river Potomac, in the 
 beginning of the following year [1634] . The governor, 
 as soon as he landed, erected a cross on the shore, and 
 took possession of the country " for our Saviour and 
 for our sovereign lord the King of England." 
 
 2. Aware that the first settlement of Virginia had 
 given umbrage^ to the Indians by occupying their 
 territory without demanding their permission, he 
 determined to imitate the wiser and ju^er policy that 
 was pursued by the colonists of New England, and to 
 unite the new with the ancient race of inhabitants by 
 the ties of equity, good -will, and mutual advantage 
 
260 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 The Indian chief, to whom .^e addressed his proposi- 
 tion of occupying a portion of the country, answered 
 at first with, a sullen affectation of indifference, — the 
 result most probably of aversion to the measure and 
 of conscious inability to resist it, — that he would not 
 bid the English go, neither would he bid them stay, 
 but that he left them to their own discretion. 
 
 3. The liberality and courtesy, however, of the 
 governor's demeanor succeeded at length in conciliat- 
 ing the Indian's regard so powerfully, that he not only 
 established a friendly league between the colonists and 
 his own people, but persuaded the other neighboring 
 tribes to accede to the treaty, and warmly declared, 
 " I love the English so well, that, if they should go 
 about to kill me, if I had so much breath as to ask to 
 speak, I would command my people not to revenge my 
 death ; for I know they would not do such a thing, 
 except it were through my own fault." 
 
 4. Having purchased the rights of the aborigines at 
 a price which gave them perfect satisfaction, the colon- 
 ists obtained possession of a large district, including 
 an Indian town, which they forthwith occupied, and 
 distinguished by the name of St. Mary's. It was not 
 till their numbers had undergone a considerable in- 
 crease that they judged it necessary to frame a code of 
 laws and establish their political constitution. They 
 lived for some time in a social union, resembling the 
 domestic regimen of a patriarchal family ; and con- 
 
V 
 
 THE FIFTH HEADER. 2G7 
 
 fined their attention to the providing of food and habi- 
 tations for themselves and the associates by whom 
 they expected to be reinforced. 
 
 5. The lands which were ceded to them yielded a 
 ready increase, because they had already undergone 
 the discipline of Indian villages; and this circum- 
 stance, as well as the proximity of Virginia, which now 
 afforded an abundant supply of the necessaries of life, 
 enabled the colonists of Maryland to escape the 
 ravages of that calamity which had afflicted the 
 infancy of, and nearly proved fatal to, the other settle- 
 ments of the English in xVmerica. So luxuriant were 
 their crops, that, within two years after their arrival 
 in the province, they exported ten thousand bushels 
 of Indian corn to New England, for the purchase of 
 salted fish and other provisions. 
 
 6. The tidings of their safe and c9mfortable establish- 
 ment, conspiring with the uneasiness experienced by 
 the Boman Catholics in England, induced considerable 
 numbers of the professors of this faith to follow the 
 original emigrants to Maryland ; and no efforts of 
 wisdom or generosity were spared by Lord Baltimore 
 to promote the population and the happiness of the 
 colony. The transportation of people and of necessary 
 stores and provisions, during the first two years, cost 
 him upward of forty thousand pounds. 
 
 7. To every emigrant he assigned fifty acres of land 
 in absolute fee ; and with a liberality unparalleled in 
 
2G8 THE FIFTH EEM)ER. 
 
 that age, Le united a general recognition of Cliristiauity 
 as the established faith of the land, with an exclusion 
 of the political predominance or superiority of any one 
 particular sect or denomination of Christians. This 
 wise administration soon converted a desolate wilder- 
 ness into a flourishijig commonwealth,'* enlivened by 
 industry and adorned by civilization. It is a proof at 
 once of the success of his policy, and of the prosperity 
 and happiness of the colonists, that, a very few years 
 after the first occupation of the province, they granted 
 to their proprietary a large subsidy^ of tobacco, in 
 grateful acknowledgment of his liber aUty and benefi- 
 cence. Similar tributes continued, from time to time, 
 to attest the merit of the proprietary, and the attach- 
 ment of the people 
 
 8. In the Assembly a magnanimous attempt was 
 made to preserve j;he peace of the colony, by ex- 
 tinguishing within its limits one of the most fertile 
 sources of human strife and animosity. It had been 
 proclaimed from the very beginning by the proprietary 
 that religious toleration should constitute one of the 
 fundamental principles of the social union over which 
 he presided ; and the Assembly of the province com- 
 posed chiefly of Eoman Catholics, now proceeded, by 
 a memorable Act concerning Religion, to interweave this 
 noble principle into its legislative constitutions (1649). 
 
 9. The statute commenced with a preamble, declar- 
 ing that the enforcement of the conscience had been of 
 
THE FOUPiTH liEADKR. 269 
 
 dangerous consequence in those countries wherein it 
 had been practiced ; and ordained that, thereafter, no 
 persons professing to believe in Jesus Christ should be 
 molested on account of their faith, or denied the free 
 exercise of their particular modes of worship ; that 
 persons molesting any individual, on account of his 
 religious tenets or eQclesiastical* practices, should pay 
 treble damages to the party aggrieved, and twenty 
 shillings to the proprietary; that those who should 
 reproach their neighbors withr opprobrious ® names or 
 epithets,^ inferring religious distinctions, should forfeit 
 ten shilling to the persons so insulted ; that any one 
 speaking reproachfully against the blessed Virgin or 
 the apostles should forfeit live pounds ; and that 
 blasphemy against God should be punished with 
 death. 
 
 10. By the enactment of this statute, the Catholic 
 planters of Maryland procured to their adopted coun- 
 try the distinguished praise of being the first of the 
 American States in which toleration was established 
 by law ; and graced their peculiar faith with the 
 signal and unwonted merit of protecting those rights 
 of conscience which no other Christian association in 
 the world was yet sufficiently humane and enlightened 
 to recognize. It is a striking and instructive spectacle 
 to behold at this period the Puritans persecuting their 
 Pr( testant bretliren in New England ; the Protestant 
 Epi.scop^^liaus inflicting similar igor and injustice on 
 
270 
 
 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 the Puritans in Virginia; and the Catholics, against 
 whom all the others were combined, forming in Mary- 
 land a sanctuary where Christians of every denom- 
 ination might worship, yet none might oppress, and 
 where even Protestants sought refuge from Protestant 
 intolerance. * 
 
 • Um'-brage, offense. 
 
 » Oom'-mon-w«alth, the common 
 good or happiness ; that form 
 of go\ornment best suited to 
 procure the pubhc good. 
 
 » SuB'-si-DT, supply given to aid 
 the rt •opriotary, by which name 
 
 the government of Maryland 
 was formerly known. 
 
 4 Ec-cle-si'-as-ti-caij, pertaining 
 to the Church. 
 
 • Op-peo'-bbi-ous, contemptuous ; 
 scurrilous. 
 
 6 Ep'-i-thets, words used in re- 
 proach. 
 
 XLIV.— THE GOOD OLD TIMES. 
 
 NEALE. 
 
 1. Oh ! the good old times of England, ere in her evil 
 
 clay. 
 From their Holy Faith, and her ancient rites, her people 
 
 fell away ; 
 Wlien her gentlemen had hands to give, and her 
 
 yeomen hearts to feel ; 
 And they raised full many a bead-house, but never a 
 
 bastile ; 
 And the poor they honored, for they knew that He who 
 
 for us bled, 
 Had seldom, when He crime on earth, whereon to lay 
 
 His head ; 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 271 
 
 And by the poor man's dying bed the holy pastor 
 
 stood, 
 To fortify the parting soul with that celestial Food. 
 
 2. And in the mortal agony the priest ye might behold, 
 Commending to his Father's hands a sheep of his own 
 
 fold; 
 And, when the soul was fled from earth, the Church 
 
 could do yet more ; 
 For the chanting priests came slow in front, and the 
 
 Cross went on before, 
 And o'er the poor man's pall they bade the sacred 
 
 banner wave. 
 To teach her sons that Holy Church hath victory o'er 
 
 the grave ; 
 But times and things are altered now, and Englishmen 
 
 begin 
 To class the beggar with the knave, and poverty with 
 
 sin. 
 
 3. We shut them up from tree and flower, and from the 
 
 blessed sun ; 
 
 We tear iia twain the hearts that God in wedlock had 
 made one — 
 
 The hearts that beat so faithfully, reposing side by side, 
 
 For fifty years of weal and woe, from eve till morning- 
 tide ; 
 
 No gentle nun with her comfort sweet, no friar standeth 
 nigh, 
 
1272 THE FIFTH KEADEB. 
 
 With ghostly strength and holy love, to close the poor 
 
 man's eye ; 
 But the corpse is thrown into the ground, when the 
 
 prayers are Lurried o'er, 
 To rest in peace a little while, and then make way for 
 f more ! 
 
 4. We mourn not for abbey lands, e'en pass they as 
 
 they may ! 
 But we mourn because the tyrant found a richer spoil 
 
 than they ; 
 He cast away, as a thing defiled, the remembrance ol 
 
 the just. 
 And the relics of the martyrs he scattered to the dust ; 
 Yet two, at least, in their holy shrines, escaped the 
 
 spoiler's hand ; 
 And St. Cuthbert and St. Edward might alone redeem 
 
 a land ! 
 And still our litanies ascend, like incense, as before ; 
 And still we hold the one full faith Nicsea taught of 
 
 yore. 
 
 6. And still our children, duly plunged in the baptismal 
 
 flood 
 Of water and the Holy Ghost, are made the Sons of 
 
 God; 
 And still our solemn festivals from age to age endure, 
 And wedded troth^ remains as firm, and wedded love ail 
 
 pure. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 278 
 
 And many au earnest prayer ascends fi'om many a 
 
 hidden spot ; 
 And England's Church is Catholic, though England's 
 
 self be not ! 
 England of Saints! the hour is come — for nisjher it 
 
 may be 
 Than yet I deem, albeit that day I may not live to see, 
 
 6. When all thy commerce, all thy arts, and wealth, and 
 
 power, and fame. 
 Shall melt away at thy most need, like wax before £he 
 
 flame ; 
 Then shalt thou find thy truest strength, thy martyis* 
 
 prayers above : 
 Then shalt thou find thy truest wealth, their holy deer'.s 
 
 of love ; 
 And thy Church, awaking from her sleep, come glorious 
 
 forth at length. 
 And in sight of angels and of men, display her hidden 
 
 strength. 
 Again shall long processions sweep through Lincoln's 
 
 Minster pile ; 
 Again shall banner, cross, and cone,^ gleam through the 
 
 incensed aisle. 
 
 7. And the faithful dead shall claim their part in the 
 
 Church's thoughtful prayer, 
 And the daily sacrifice to God be duly offered thore ; ' . 
 
274 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 And tierce, and nones, and matins, shall liave each 
 
 their holy lay ; 
 And the Angelus at Compline shall sweetly close the 
 
 day. 
 England of Saints, the peace will dawn, but not without 
 
 the fight ; 
 So, come the contesij, when it may, and God defend the 
 
 right ! 
 
 ' Teoth, faith ; fidelity. I top terminates in a point like a 
 
 « Cone, a spire, or figure, whose | sugar-loaf. 
 
 XLV.— MARYLAND. 
 
 W. O. EEED, 
 
 1. The land of Mary, so named at the instance of 
 Henrietta Maria, was to receive, in its sheltered seclu- 
 sion, the suffering brethren in the faith of the youthful 
 queen. But the exactions of the Penal Code so impo- 
 verished the Cathohcs of England and Ireland, from 
 among whom the first emigrants were collected, that it 
 was only at an immense expense, out of his private for- 
 tune, which had, as yet, through causes already alluded 
 to, remained intact, that the proprietary was enabled 
 to equip, under the conduct of his brother, who seems 
 to have been eminently fitted for the trust, an expedi- 
 tion of about two hundred gentlemen, including their 
 domestics. 
 
 2. With equal piety and taste, he denominates " The 
 
THE FIFTH REAPER. 275 
 
 Ark," tlie stout ship that was to bear this family from 
 the devastation of the ancient world, with the sacred 
 traditions of primeval times, to the green bosom of a 
 now earth. Her light consort is named " The Dove," 
 and the voyagers prepare to leave their home. 
 
 3. Their home ! What a tale of sorrow is concen- 
 trated in that single word ! a sensual utilitarianism^ had 
 not then subdued the best feelings of the heart and 
 philosophized the expatriation of a family, down to the 
 oold calculations of expediency that direct the migra- 
 tion of a commercial firm. The country had trampled 
 and spurned them, but it was reserved for modern times 
 to hear, that " to make us love our country, our coun- 
 try must be lovely." Oh no ! such is not the language 
 of truth and nature. 
 
 4. We love our country, because it is our countr}^ 
 mauger the malice or misrule of man ! God h'^s, for 
 wise purposes, implanted in our bosoms the principle 
 of attachment. We love through the blest necessity 
 of loving, ere we can well distinguish good from evil. 
 Like the climbing plants, our affections must cling to 
 something, and they twine around the objects of our 
 early associations with a tenacity that no violence can 
 ever tear away. They may wither through neglect ; 
 they may be blighted by unkindness ; but the tender 
 grasp of their first luxuriance only stiffens in death. 
 
 5. And the Pilgrims of Maryland, what had they to 
 ''mve? They Wc^e mostly, as I have stated, of the 
 
276 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 well-born of tlie land, lionorable througli long descent, 
 and the constancy with which themselves had adhered 
 to the faith of their fathers. They aud their progeni- 
 tors had sealed their devotion to it, not always, per- 
 il ;ips, in that physical martyrdom which rouses man- 
 hood, which is sustained by the countenance and 
 prayers of admiring and sympathizing friends, or the 
 proud consciousness that its firmness animates some 
 fainting brother ; no ! like those unheeded and impitied 
 martyrs, who bleed and burn in the secret cells of the 
 heart, cut off from all earthly sources of sympathy and 
 consolation, they had endured in povert}' and distress, 
 in contempt and obscurity ; but still they failed not — 
 
 — "Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, 
 
 Their consttancy they kept, their love, their zeal ; 
 
 Nor number nor example with them wrought, 
 
 To swerve from truth, or change their constant mind." 
 
 And dear to them was the fair land they were to leave, 
 with its hallowed associations, its old family recollec- 
 tions, its memorials of the friendship strong as death, 
 that had suffered with them, often in spite of temp- 
 tation or prejudice. 
 
 6. Above all, it was England with her white cliffs, 
 lier verdant meads, her " mossed trees that had 
 outlived the eagle ;" her ocean breezes, vocal with the 
 language of Chaucer and Spenser, of Dryden and 
 Shakespeare, and "all-accomplished Surrey;" the 
 "royal throne of Alfred," and the sainted Edward; 
 fte nursing land of chivalry ; of a third Edward 
 
THE FIFTH HEADER. 2,-7 
 
 of a Black Prince, of the men of Crecy, Poictiers, and 
 Agincourt, the Nevilles, the Chandos, the Staf- 
 fords, the Cliffords, the Spencers, the Talbots — the 
 men who sought the shock of nations as they did the 
 fierce pastime of the tourney — who bowed in confes- 
 sion, and knelt at Mass, and received thoir incarnate 
 God, sheathed in the armor that might coffin Iheir 
 corpses ere the sun went down; England, rich in 
 monuments of the free jurisprudence of her early 
 (catholic times — the work of her Bractons, her Britons, 
 her Fortescues ; rich in the monuments of her old 
 Catholic charity — her churches, before which modern 
 imitation sits down abashed and despairing ; her cities 
 of colleges, whose scholars once were avmies ; richer 
 in the virtue of her saints, her Beckets, ] 3r Mores, her 
 Fishers, and the countless array whose lames, though 
 unhonored on earth, are registered in ihe Book of 
 Life, and whose blood pleads louder ij heaven than 
 the prayers of her Sibthorpes and h jr Spencers, for 
 the return to Christian unity of the l/eautiful land it 
 has made holy ! 
 
 • Uinjj-i-TA'-Bi-AN-isM, the doctrine that every xhing Is right which 
 appears to bo useful, irrespective of the teachings the Oaarch. 
 
278 . ^ THE nSTH EEADEK. 
 
 XLVL— THE FEMALE MAETYR. 
 
 WHITTIEIi. 
 
 Mary 0--*i»4vv aged eighteen, a "Sister of Charity," died in one 
 of our Atlantic cities during the prevalence of the Asiatic choh^ra, 
 while in voluntary attendance on the sick. 
 
 1. For thou wast one in whom the hght 
 Of Heaven's own love was kindled well, 
 Enduring with a martyr's might, 
 Through every day and wakeful night, 
 Far more than words may tell : 
 
 Gentle, and meek, and lowly, and unknown - 
 Thy mercies measured by thy God alone ! 
 
 2. "Where many hearts were failing, — where 
 The throngful street grew foul with death, 
 O, high-souled martyr ! — thou wast there 
 InhaHng from the loathsome air 
 Poison with every breath, 
 
 Yet shrinking not from offices of dread 
 
 For the wrung dying, and the unconscious dead 
 
 3. And, where the sickly taper shed 
 
 Its Hght through vapors, damp, confined, 
 
 A new Electra by the bed 
 
 Of suffering human-kind ! 
 
 Pointing the spirit, in its dark dismay. 
 
 To that pure hope which fadeth not away. 
 
 4. Innocent teacher of the high 
 And holy mysteries of Heaven 1 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 2T9 
 
 In mute and awful sympathy, 
 
 As thy low prayers were given ; 
 
 And the o'erhovering Spoiler wore, the while 
 
 An angel's features — a deliverer's smile 1 
 
 %• 
 6. A blessed task ! and worthy one 
 Who turning from the world, as thou, 
 Before life's pathway had begun 
 To leave its spring-time flower and sun, 
 Had sealed her early vow ; 
 Giving to God her beauty and her youth, ^ 
 Her pure affections and her guileless truth. 
 
 6. Earth may not claim thee. Nothing here 
 Could be for thee a meet reward ; 
 
 Thine is a treasure far more dear — 
 
 Eye hath not seen it, nor the ear 
 
 Of living mortal heard, — 
 
 The joys prepared —the promised bliss above— 
 
 The holy presence of Eternal Love ! 
 
 7. Sleep on in peace. The earth has not 
 A nobler name than thine shall be. 
 
 The deeds by martial manhood wrought, 
 The lofty energies of thought, 
 
 The fire of poesy — 
 These have but frail and fading honors ; — thine 
 Shall Time unto Eternity consign. 
 
280 THE FIFFH READER. 
 
 8. Tea, and wlien thrones shall crumble down, 
 And human pride and grandeur fall, — 
 The herald's line of long renown 
 The miter and the kingly crown — 
 Terishing glories all ! 
 The pure devotion of thy generous heart 
 Shall live in Heaven, of which it was a part. 
 
 XLVn .—MOUNTAINS. 
 
 WHiMAM HOWIT. 
 
 1. Thanks be to God for mountains ! The variety 
 which they impart to the glorious bosom of our planet 
 were no small advantage ; the beauty which they 
 spread out to our vision in their woods and waters ; 
 their crags and slopes, theii* clouds and atmospheric 
 hues, were a splended gift ; the sublimity which they 
 pour into our deepest souls from their majestic as- 
 pects ; the poetry which breathes from their streams, 
 and dells, and airy hights, from the sweet abodes, the 
 garbs and manners of their inhabitants, the songs and 
 legends which have awoke in them, were a proud 
 heritage to imaginative minds ; but what are all these 
 when the thought comes, that without mountains the 
 spirit of man must have bowed to the brutal and the 
 base, and probably have sunk to the monotonous level 
 of the unvaried plain ? 
 
 2. When T turn my eyes nnon the map of the world. 
 
THE FIFTH RRiDEF^ 281 
 
 and beliold bow woiidcrfull}^ the countries where oni 
 faith was nurtured, where our liberties were generated, 
 where our philosophy and literature, the fountains ol 
 our intellectual grace and beauty, sprang up, were ag 
 distinctly walled out by God's hand with mountain 
 ramparts, from the eruptions and interuptions of bar- 
 barism, as if at the especial prayer of the early fathers 
 of man's destinies, I am lost in an exalting admiration. 
 
 3. Look at the bold barriers of Palestine ! see how 
 the infant liberties of Greece were sheltered frojn the 
 vast tribes of the uncivilized north by the hights of 
 Hsemus and Khodope ! behold how the Alps describe 
 their magnificent crescent, inclining their opposite^ 
 extremities to the Adriatic aijd Tyrrhine Seas, locking 
 up Italy from the GaUic and Teutonian hordes till the 
 power and spirit of Eome had readied their maturity, 
 and she had opened the wide forest of Europe to the 
 light, spread far her laws and language, and planted 
 the seeds of many mighty nations ! 
 
 4. Thanks to God for mountains ! Their colossal 
 firmness seems almost to break the current of time 
 itself ; tbe geologist in them searches for traces of the 
 earlier world ; and it is there, too, that man, resisting 
 the revolutions of lower regions, retains through innu- 
 merable years, his habits and his rights. "While a 
 multitude of changes have remolded the people of Eu- 
 rope ; while languages, and laws, and dynasties, and 
 creeds, have passed over it like shadows over the land- 
 
282 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 scape, tlie children of tlie Celt and tlie Gotli, who had 
 fled to the mountains a thousand years ago, are found 
 there now, and show us in face and figure, in language 
 and garb, what their fathers were ; show us a fine con- 
 trast with the modern tribes dwelling below and around 
 them ; and show us, moreover, how adverse is the 
 spirit of the mountaiu to mutability, and that there 
 the fiery heart of freedom is found for ever. 
 
 XLVin.— IRELAND. 
 
 C. E. liESTEB. 
 
 Ireland still has an existence as a nation. She has 
 her universities and her literature. She is still the 
 " Emerald Isle of the Ocean." An air of romance and 
 chivalry is around her. The traditionary tales that 
 live in her literature invest her history with heroic 
 beauty. But she has no need of these. Real heroes, 
 the O'Neils, the O'Briens, and the Emmets, will be 
 remembered as long as self-denying patriotism and 
 unconquerable valor are honored among men. 
 
 2. In every department of literature she will take 
 her place. Where is the wreath her shamrock does 
 not adorn ? Where the muse that has not visited her 
 hills? Her harp has ever kindled the soul of the 
 warrior and soothed the sorrows of the broken-hearted. 
 It has sounded every strain that can move the human 
 heart to greatness or to love. Whatever vices may 
 
THE FIFTH RExVDER. 283 
 
 stain her people, tliej are free from tlie crime of vol- 
 untary servitude. The Irishman is the man last to be 
 subdued. Possessing an elasticity of character that 
 will rise under the heaviest oppression, he wants only 
 a favorable opportunity and a single spark to set him 
 in a blaze. 
 
 3. The records of religious persecutions in all coun- 
 tries have nothing more hideous to offer to our notice 
 ihan the Protestant persecutions of the Irish Catholics. 
 On them, all the devices of cruelty were exhausted. 
 Ingenuity was taxed to devise new plans of persecution, 
 till the machinery of penal iniquity might almost be 
 pronounced perfect. The great Irish chieftains and 
 landlords were purposely goaded into rebellion, that 
 they might be branded as traitors and their lands 
 confiscated for the benefit of English adveuturers. 
 Such was the course adopted towards Earl Desmond, 
 a powerful chief of Munster ; such also was the treat- 
 ment of O'Neil. When Queen Elizabeth heard of the 
 revolt of the latter, she remarked to her courtiers : " It 
 would be better for her servants, as there would bo 
 estates enough for them all." 
 
 4. This single expression of Elizabeth reveals the en - 
 tire policy of the EngHsh Government towards Ireland. 
 That injured country was the great repast at wliich 
 every monarch bade his lords sit down and eat. After 
 they had gorged their fill, the remains were left for 
 those who came after Tranquillity succeeded these 
 
284 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 massacres, but it was the tranquillity of the graveyard. 
 The proud and patriotic Irishmen were folded in the 
 sleep of death, and the silence and repose around their 
 lifeless corpses were called peace. 
 
 " They made a solitude, 
 And called it peace." 
 
 5. Often a great chief, possessed of large estates, was 
 purposely driven by the most flagrant injustice and in- 
 sults into open rebellion, that he might be branded as 
 a traitor, and his rich possessions, by confiscation, re- 
 vert to the English vampyres that so infested the land. 
 Every cruelty and outrage that can dishonor our 
 nature was perpetrated in these unjust wars by English 
 soldiers. Cities were sacked, villages burned, and the 
 helpless and the young slaughtered by thousands. A 
 record of these scenes of crime and blood we cannot 
 furnish. It is written, however, on every foot of Irish 
 soil, and in the still living memories of many an Lish 
 heart. 
 
 XLEL— THE DESEETED VILLAGE. 
 
 GOLDSMITH. 
 
 The locality of this poem is supposed to be Lissoy, near Ballymahan, 
 County Longford, Ireland, where the poet's brother Henry had his 
 living. As usual in such cases, the place afterwards became the 
 fashionable resort of poetical pilgrims, and paid the customary peualty 
 of furnishing relics for the curious. The hawthorn bush has been con- 
 verted into snuff-boxes, and now adorns the cabinets of pootieal 
 virtuosi. The social and political truths embodied in this beautiful 
 Po3m, have been signally vindicated by time, and were never moro 
 
THE FIFTH READEK. 285 
 
 applicable than thej are i.o the luxury and extravagance of our own 
 times. In the dedication of *' The Deserted Village," Goldsmith says : 
 " In regretting the depopulation of the country, I inveigh against the 
 increase of our luxuries, and here also I expect the «8hout of modejm 
 politicians against me. For twenty or thirty years past, it has been 
 the fashion to consider luxury as one of the greatest national advan- 
 tages, and all the wisdom of antiquity, in that particular, as erroneous 
 Still, however, I must remain a professed ancient on that head, and 
 continue to think those luxuries prejudicial to states by which so many 
 vices are introduced, and so many kingdoms have been undone." 
 
 1. Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain, /. 
 Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain, ; - 
 Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, 1 
 
 A.Dd parting summer's lingering blooms delayed : 
 Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, ^6' 
 
 Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, a 
 How often have I loitered o'er thy green, -^ 
 
 Where humble happiness endeared each scene " 
 
 How often have I paused on every charm, / 
 
 The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm, . ^d_ 
 
 The never-failing brook, the busy mill, ^^ 
 
 The decent church that topt the neighboring hill, '^ 
 
 The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, ? 
 For talking age and whispering lovers made ! 
 How often have I blest the coming day, ^ ^<^ 
 
 When toil remitting lent its turn to play, ^ 
 
 And all the village train, from labor free. 
 Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree ; 
 While many a pastime circled in the shade, -/ 
 
 The young contending as the old surveyed ; ^^. 
 
286 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 And many a gambql frolick'd o'er tke ground, 
 
 And sleights of art and feats of strength went round ; 
 
 And still as eSPch repeated pleasure tired, 
 
 Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired ; 
 
 The dancing pair that simply sought renown .. -^"^ 
 
 By holding out to tire each other down ; 
 
 The swain mistrustless of his smutted face. 
 
 While secret laughter tittered round the place ; 
 
 The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of lo^e, 
 
 The matron's glance that would those looks reprove : £d 
 
 These were thy charms, sweet village! sports, like 
 
 these 
 With sweet s«ccession, taught e'en toil to please ; 
 These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed, 
 These were thy charms — but all these charms are fled. 
 
 2. Sweet smilmg village, loveliest of the lawn, ^"^ 
 
 Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawa 
 Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, 
 And desolation saddens all thy green ; 
 One only master grasps the whole domain, 
 And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. - ^ - j^^ 
 No more the grassy brook reflects the day. 
 But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way ; 
 Along thy glades, a solitary guest. 
 The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest ; 
 Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, 'u ^ 
 
 Ind tires their echoes with unvaried cries : 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 287 
 
 Sunk are tlij bowers in shapeless ruin all, 
 And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall ; 
 And, tremj^ling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, 
 Far, far away thy children leave the land. i'b 
 
 3. Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, 
 Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; 
 Princes aud lords may flourish, or may fade ; 
 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; 
 
 But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, ^^ •^ 
 
 When once destroyed, can never be supplied. 
 
 4. A time there was, ere England's griefs began, 
 When every rood of ground maintained its man : 
 For him light Labor spread her wholesome store. 
 
 Just gave what life required, but gave no more ; ' (^ ^ 
 
 His best companions, innocence and health. 
 
 And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 
 
 But times are altered : trade's unfeeling train 
 
 Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain ; 
 
 Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose, '^ ^ 
 
 Unwieldly wealth and cumbrous pomp repo^o, 
 
 And every want to luxury allied. 
 
 And every pang that folly pays to pride. 
 
 Those gentle hours that plenty bade to blovm, 
 
 Those calm desires that asked but little room,. V^ 
 
 Those healthful sports that graced the peacefil scene, 
 
 Lij^d in each look, and brightened all the g^een, — 
 
 These, far departing, seek a kinder shore, 
 
 And rural mirth and manners are no more. 
 
2k.j the fifth readeb. 
 
 5. Sweet AuDurn ! parent of fclie blissful hour, ^<^ 
 Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. 
 Here- 9.S I take my solitary rounds, « 
 
 Amidst thy tanghng walks and ruined grounds, 
 And, many a year elapsed, return to view 
 Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, fC 
 Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, , 
 Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. 
 
 G. In all my wanderings round this world of care. 
 In all my griefs — and God has given my share— 
 1 still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, f6' 
 
 Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
 To husband out life's taper at the close. 
 And keep the flame from wasting by repose : 
 I still had hopes — for pride attends us stiU — 
 Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, f^ 
 Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
 And tell of all I felt and all I saw ; 
 And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, 
 Pants to the place from whence at first she flew. 
 I still had hopes, my long t^^exations past, , f if 
 
 Here to return and die at home at last. 
 
 7. blest retirement, friend to life's decline. 
 Retreat from cares, that never must be mine ! 
 Bow blest is he who crowns in shades like- these, 
 A. youth of labor with ao age of ease ; . ^i^^ ^ 
 
 Who quits a world where strong temptations try, 
 And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly I. 
 
THE FIFl'H READER, 289 
 
 For him no wretches, born to work and weep, 
 
 Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep. 
 
 No surly porter stands in guilty state, /(r6' 
 
 To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 
 
 But on he moves to meet his latter end, 
 
 Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
 
 Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, 
 
 "Wliile resignation gently slopes the way^ I f ^ 
 
 And, all his prospects brightening to the last, 
 
 His heaven commences ere the world be past. 
 
 8. Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close, 
 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; 
 There, as 1 past with careless steps and slow, / /^ 
 
 The evening notes came softened from below ; 
 The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, 
 The sober herd that lowed to meet their young ; 
 The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool. 
 The playful children just let loose from school ; ^ ^ 
 The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind. 
 And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind — 
 These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
 And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 
 But now the sounds of population fail ; /Jy6' 
 
 No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, 
 No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread. 
 But all the blooming flush of life is fled ; 
 All but yon widow'd, solitary thing. 
 That feebly bends beside the plashy spring; / 3 1} 
 
290 THE FIFTH EE.VDER. 
 
 She, wretclied matron, forced in age, for bread, 
 
 To strip tlie brook with mantling cresses spread. 
 
 To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn. 
 
 To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn ; 
 
 She only left of all the harmless train, /S^ 
 
 The sad historian of the pensive plain. 
 
 L.— THE DESERTED VILLA.GE.—CONTINTJBD. 
 
 1. Near yonder copse, where once ^e garden smiled, 
 And still where many a garden-flower grows wild, 
 There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose. 
 The village preacher's modest mansion rose. - _/ -^d 
 A man he was to all the country dear, 
 And passing rich with forty pounds a-year : 
 Kemote from towns he ran his godly race, 
 Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, hift 
 
 place ; 
 Unskillful he to fawn, or seek for power, / V^' 
 
 By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;. 
 Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, 
 More bent to raise the wretched than to rise. 
 His house was known to all tlie vagrant train. 
 He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain ; /^'fj 
 The long-remembered beggar was his guest, 
 "Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 
 The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud. 
 Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed ; 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 291 
 
 The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, ' /^^ 
 
 Sat by bis fire, and talked the night away, 
 Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done, 
 Shouldered his crutoh. and showed how fields "were 
 
 won. 
 Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, /[p 
 And quite forgot their vices in their woe : 
 Careless their merits or their faults to scan, 
 His pity gave ere charity began; 
 
 ' 2. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, 
 And even his failings leaned to virtue's. side ; ^ ^ - "/!>6' 
 But in his duty prompt at every call, 
 He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all ; 
 And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 
 To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, 
 
 He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, //^ 
 
 Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. 
 
 3. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
 And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed. 
 The reverend champion stood. At his control. 
 Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ;• . _ . - - yy6' 
 Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 
 
 And his last faltering accents whispered praise* 
 
 4. At church, with meek and unaffected grace. 
 His looks adorned the venerable place ; . . 
 
 Truth from his Hps prevailed with double sway, . _/ /^ 
 A.nd fools who came to scoff, remained to pray. 
 
292 THE FIFTH REA.DER. 
 
 The service past, around the pious m£fti, 
 
 With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
 
 E'en children followed, with endearing wile, 
 
 And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile, / ^-^ 
 
 His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed ; • 
 
 Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed ; 
 
 To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, 
 
 But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 
 
 As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, /ft 
 
 Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, * 
 Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
 Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 
 
 LL-THE DESERTED VILLAGE.— Continued. 
 
 1. Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way. 
 With blossomed furze, unprofitably gay, - - - /f ^' 
 There in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule. 
 The vUlage master taught his little school. 
 A man severe he was, and stern to view ; 
 T knew him well, and every truant knew ; 
 Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace J^OO 
 The day's disasters in his morning face ; 
 Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee^ 
 At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
 Full well the busy whisper, circling round, 
 Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned : Ji& b' 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 293 
 
 2. Yet he was kind, or, if severe in auglit, I 
 Ihe love he bore to learning was in fault. J 
 The village all declared how much he knew, 
 'Twas certain he could write and cipher too ; 
 
 Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, -^^ ^ 
 
 And e'en the storj ran — that he could guage : 
 
 In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, 
 
 For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ; 
 
 "While words of learned length and thund'ring sounds ■ 
 
 Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around; -^/^ 
 
 And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 
 
 That one small head could carry all he knew. 
 
 But past is all his fame. The very spot 
 
 Where many a time he triumphed, is forgot. 
 
 3. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, JL/^" 
 Where on<;e the sign-post caught the passing eye. 
 
 Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts in- 
 
 spirecT 
 Where graybeard mirth, and smiling toil, retired, 
 Where village statesmen talked with looks profound. 
 And news much older than their ale went round. -2.«2 ^> 
 
 Imagination fondly stoops to trace 
 The parlor splendors of that festive place : 
 The white-washed wall, the nicely-sanded floor, 
 The varnished clock tliat clicked behind the door ; 
 The chest, contrived a double debt to pay, '^^ ^ 
 
 A bed by night, a chest of draws by day ; 
 
294 THE FIFTH READEB. 
 
 The pictures placed for ornament and use, 
 Tlie twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; 
 The hearth, except when winter chilled the day, 
 With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay. ^30 
 While broken tea cups, wisely kept for show, 
 Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row. 
 
 4. Vain, transitory splendors ! Could not all 
 Keprieve the tottering mansion from its fall ? 
 
 Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart , , ^ . -^ ;J d ' 
 
 An hour's importance to the poor man's heart : 
 
 Thither no more the peasant shall repair, 
 
 To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; 
 
 Ko more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, 
 
 No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; - - - ^¥f> 
 
 No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 
 
 Kelax his ponderous strength, and learn to hear ; 
 
 The host himself no longer shall be found 
 
 Careful to see the mantling bliss go round ; 
 
 Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, . ^ -U¥ ^' 
 
 Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 
 
 5. Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
 These simple blessings of the lowly train ; 
 
 To me more dear, congenial to my heart, 
 
 One native charm, than all the gloss of art. ~ ^ - ^ j^ SD 
 
 Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play. 
 
 The soul adopts, and owns their first-bom sway ; 
 
 Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, 
 
 Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined :• 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 295 
 
 but the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,^ .26'^' 
 
 With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed, — 
 
 In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, 
 
 The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; 
 
 And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy. 
 
 The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy? - — ^ctj:> 
 
 6. Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey 
 The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 
 *T is yours to judge how wide the limits stand 
 Between a splendid and a happy land. 
 Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, ^^6' 
 And shouting Folly hails them from her shore ; 
 Hoards, even beyond the miser's wish, abound. 
 And rich men flock from all the world around. 
 Yet count our gains : this wealth is but a name 
 That leaves our useful products still the same. - -.^/^ 
 Not so the loss : the man of wealth and pride 
 Takes up a space that many poor supplied ; 
 Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds. 
 Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds. 
 The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth, r - '^ /^^ 
 lias robbed the neighboring fields of half their growth 
 His seat where solitary sports are seen, 
 Indignant spurns the cotfage from the green ; 
 Around the world each needful product flies 
 
 For all the luxuries the world supplies : ^ z f^ 
 
 While thus the land, adorned for pleasure all, 
 £n barren splendor feebly waits the fall. , 
 
296 THE FIFTH EEADER. 
 
 7. As some fair female, unadorned and plain, 
 Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, 
 Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies, '^ ^^ 
 Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes \ 
 But when those charms are past— for charms ^e 
 
 frail — 
 When time advances, and when lovers fail, 
 She then shines forth, solicitous to bless. 
 
 In all the glaring impotence of dress : • . *^^^ 
 
 Thus fares the land, by luxury betrayed ; 
 
 In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed: 
 
 But verging to decline, its splendors rise, 
 
 Its yistas strike, its palaces surprise ; 
 
 While, scourged by famine from the smiling land, °2/d' 
 
 The mournful peasant leads his humble band; 
 
 And while he sinks, without one arm to save. 
 
 The country blooms — a garden and a grave. 
 
 Ln.— THE DESERTED VILLAGE.— Concluded. 
 
 1. Where, then, ah ! where shall poverty reside, 
 To escape the pressure of contiguous pride ? 
 
 If to some common's fenceless limits strayed, 5f€. 
 
 He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade. 
 Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide. 
 And even the bare-worn common is denied. 
 
 2. If to the city sped, what waits him there ? 
 
 To see profusion that he must not share ; J d 6' 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 297 . 
 
 To see ten thousand baneful arts combined 
 
 To pamper luxury, and tliin mankind ; 
 
 To see each joy the sons of pleasure know 
 
 Extorted from his fellow-creatures' wo. 
 
 Here while the courtier glitters in brocade, . _ ^/er 
 
 There the pale artist plies his sickly trade ; 
 
 Here while the proud their long-drawn pomps display. 
 
 There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. 
 
 The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign. 
 
 Here, richly decked, admits the gorgeous train ;- £/i 
 
 Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, 
 
 The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. 
 
 Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ! 
 
 Sure these denote one universal joy ! 
 
 Are these thy serious thoughts? — Ah, turn thine eyes ^3^0 
 
 Where the poor houseless shivering female lies : 
 
 She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, 
 
 Has wept at tales of innocence distrest : 
 
 * * * * 
 
 3. Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train 
 
 Do thy tair tribes participate her pain ? 3^ 6'~ 
 
 E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, 
 
 At proud men's doors they ask a little bread ! 
 i Ah, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene, 
 I Where half the convex-world intrudes between. 
 
 Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, ^^_^ -8 d 
 
 Where wild Altama * murmurs to their wo. 
 • The Altama (or Altamaha) is a river in the state of Georgia. 
 
298 THE FIFTH HEADER. 
 
 Far different there from all that charmed before, 
 
 The various terrors of that horrid shore ; 
 
 Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, 
 
 And fiercely shed intolerable day ; ^ ^ 
 
 Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, 
 
 But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling ; 
 
 Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned, 
 
 Where the dark scorpion gathers death around ; 
 
 Where at each step the stranger fears to wake - S*/ 
 
 The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; 
 
 Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, 
 
 And savage men, more murderous still than they ; 
 
 While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, 
 
 Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies. . _ 1 S^ 
 
 Far different these from every former scerie, 
 
 The coohng brook, the grassy-vested green. 
 
 The breezy covert of the warbling grove, 
 
 That only sheltered thefts of harmless love. 
 
 4. Good Heaven ! what sorrows gloomed that part- 
 ing day ^ ^ 
 That called them from their native walks away ; 
 When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, 
 Hung round the bowers, and fondly looked their last, 
 And took a long farewell, and wished in vam 
 For seats like these beyond the western main \^ ^ . 3 6^6 
 And shuddenng still to face the distant deep. 
 Returned and wept, and still returned to weep I 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 299 
 
 Tlie good old sire the first prepared to go 
 
 To new-found worlds, and wept for others' wo ; 
 
 But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, - . ^kxi 
 
 Hl only wished for worlds beyond the grave : 
 
 Ilis lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears. 
 
 The fond companion of his helpless years, 
 
 Silent went next, neglectful of her charms. 
 
 And left a lover's for her father's arms : ^^ 
 
 With louder plaints the mother spoke her woos. 
 
 And blest the cot where every pleasure rose, 
 
 And kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear 
 
 And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear, 
 
 Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief SJt 
 
 In all the silent manliness of grief. 
 
 5. O luxury ! thou curst by Heaven's decree, 
 How ill exchanged are things like these for thee ! 
 How do thy potions, with insidious joy. 
 
 Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy ! - - - - ^^/^ 
 
 Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, 
 
 Boast of a florid vigor not their own i 
 
 At every draught more large and large they grow, 
 
 A bloated mass of rank unwieldy wo ; 
 
 Till, sapped their strength, and every part unsoundr-^ ^ 
 
 Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. 
 
 6. E'en now the devastation is begun, 
 And half the business of destruction done ; 
 E'en now, metliinks, as pondering here I stand, 
 
 I see the inral Yu-tnes leave the land, SY^" 
 
300 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail 
 
 xhat idly waiting flaps with every gale, 
 , Downward they move a melancholy band, 
 "Pass from the shore and darken all the strand. 
 
 Contented Toil, and hospitable Care, - , <S f^ 
 
 And kind connubial Tenderness, are there ; 
 
 And Piety with wishes placed above, 
 
 And steady Loyalty, and faithful Love. 
 
 And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest' maid. 
 
 Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; . ^ f^ 
 
 Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, 
 
 To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; 
 
 Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, 
 
 My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; 
 
 Thou source of all my bliss, (ind all my woe, - - -^^ 
 
 That foundest me poor at first, and keepest me so ; 
 
 Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel, 
 ' Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well ! 
 
 Farewell ; and oh ! where'er thy voice be tried, 
 
 On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, ^C6^ 
 
 Whether where equinoctial fervors glow. 
 
 Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 
 
 Still let tW voice, prevailing over time, 
 
 Bedress t(ie rigors of the inclement chme ; 
 
 Aid slighfed truth with thy persuasive strain ; /V' 
 
 Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gam ; 
 |Teach him, that states of native strength possest, 
 |Thoug)i yery poor, may sjtiU be yery blest. ; 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 30] 
 
 That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, 
 
 As ocean sweeps the labored raole away ;. - "^^ ^ 
 
 While seK-dependent power can time defy, 
 
 As rocks resist the billows and the sky. ^^7, 
 
 Lm.— THE TAKING OF BABYLON BY CYRUS. 
 
 HEKODOTUS. 
 
 1. Assyria possesses a vast number of great cities, 
 whereof the most renowned and the strongest at this 
 time* was Babylon, whither, after the fall of Nineveh, 
 the seat of government had been removed. The 
 following is a description of the place : — The city 
 stands on a broad plain, and is an exact square, a 
 hundred and twenty furlongs in length each way, so 
 that the entire circuit is four hundred and eighty 
 furlongs. While such is its size, in magnificence there 
 is no other city that approaches it. It is surrounded, 
 in the first place, by a broad and deep moat, full of 
 water, behind which rises a wall fifty royal cubits Id 
 width, and two hundred in heigh t.f 
 
 * During the time of the conquests of Cyrus the Great, — iu tUa 
 latter part of the sixth centurj', b. c. 
 
 t There is some doubt as to the precise length of the royal, as well 
 as the common, cubit. According to the most reliable estimate, tlie 
 former was about one foot ten and one-half inches ; and, consequently, 
 the walls of Babylon must have been about (three hundred ar,d 
 seventy-five feet high, and nearly ninety-four feet in width. This 
 appears *hke a very great exaggeration on the part of Herodotus, 
 especially as other ancient writers give the dimensions as only one- 
 xb'iith tus great. If we substitute hands for cubits, the statement will 
 
002 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 2. And here I may not. omit to tell tlie use to which 
 the mold dug out of the great moat was turned, nor 
 the manner wherein the wall was wrought. As fast as 
 they dug the moat, the soil which they got from the 
 cutting was made into bricks ; and when a sufficient 
 number was completed, they baked the bricks in kilns. 
 Then they set to building, and began with bricking the 
 borders of the moat, after which they proceeded to 
 construct the wall itself, using throughout for their 
 cement hot bitumen, and interposing a layer of wattled 
 reeds at every thirtieth course of the bricks. On the 
 top, along the edges of the wall, they constructed 
 buildings of a single chamber facing one another, 
 leaving between them room for a four-horse chariot to 
 turn. In the circuit of the wall are a hundred gates, 
 all of brass, with brazen lintels and side-posts. The 
 bitumen used in the work was brought to Babylon 
 from the Is, a small stream which flows into the 
 Euphrates, at the point where the city of the same 
 name stands, eight days' journey from Babylon. 
 Lumps of bitumen are found in great abundance in 
 this river. 
 
 3. The city is divided into two portions by the river 
 which runs through the midst of it. This river is the 
 Euphrates, a broad, deep, swift stream, which rises in 
 Armenia, and empties itself into the Erythraean Sea. 
 
 be plausible ; aud this, probably, is what Ileroclotiis meaiil, since it 
 has been found that in his description of ol)jects which he had seen he 
 was studiously accuiute 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 303 
 
 The city wall is brought down on both sides to the 
 edge of the stream ; thence from the corners of the 
 wall there is carried along each bank of the river a 
 fence of burnt bricks. The houses are mostly three 
 and four stories high ; the streets all run in straight 
 lines, not only those parallel to the river, but also the 
 cross-streets which lead down to the water side. At 
 the river end of these cross-streets are low gates in the 
 fence .that skirts the stream, which are, like the great 
 gates in the outer wall, of brass, and open on the 
 water. 
 
 4 The outer wall is the main defense of the city. 
 There is, however, a second inner wall, of less thick- 
 ness than the first, but very little inferior to it iu 
 strength. The center of each division of the town 
 was occupied by a fortress. In the one stood the 
 palace of the kings, surrounded by a wall of great 
 strength and size ; in the other was the sacred pre- 
 cinct of Jupiter Belus, a square inclosure, two furlongs 
 each way, with gates of solid brass, which was also 
 remaining in my time. In the middle of the precinct 
 there was a tower of solid masonry, a furlong in length 
 and breadth, upon which was raised a second tower, 
 and on that a third, and so on up to eight. 
 
 5. The ascent to the top is on the outside, by a path 
 which winds round all the towers. When one is about 
 half-way up, one finds a resting place and seats, whore 
 persons are wont to sit sometimes on their way to tlie 
 
MO 4 THE FIFTH HEADER. 
 
 summit. On tlie topmost tower there is a spacioiig 
 temple, and inside the temple stands a couch of unusual 
 size, richly adorned, with a golden table by its side. 
 There is no statue of any kind set up in the place, nor 
 is the chamber occupied of nights by any one save a 
 single native woman, who as the Chaldeans,"^ the priests 
 of this god, affirm, is chosen for himself by the Deity 
 out of all the women of the land 
 
 6. Below, in the same precinct, there is a second tem- 
 ple, in which is a sitting figure of Jupiter, all of gold. 
 Before the figure stands a largo golden table, and the 
 throne whereon it sits, and the base on which the 
 throne is placed, are likewise of gold. The Chaldeans 
 told me that all the gold together was eight hundred 
 talents' weight.t Outside the temples are two solid 
 altars, one of solid gold, on which it is only law:ful to 
 offer sucklings ; the other, a common altar, but of great 
 size, on which ^he full-grown animals are sacrificed. 
 It is also on the great altar that the Chaldeans burn 
 the frankincence, which is offered to the amount of a 
 thousand talents' weight, every year, at the festival of 
 the god. 
 
 7. In the time of Cyrus there was likewise in thi:^ 
 
 * The Chaldeans were a brauch of the race which inhaDlted Babylo- 
 nia from the e irhest times. With this race originated the art of \\ rit- 
 ing, the building of cities, the institution of religious systems, and tlia 
 cultivation of science, particularly astronomy. 
 
 + The smaller talent, used in weighiug gold, was'a little more than 
 three-quarters of an ounce. Hence there must have been more thai) 
 six hundredweight of gtdd used in these articles. 
 
THE FIFTH EEADES o05 
 
 temple the figure of a mau, twelve cubits liigb, entirely 
 of solid gold. I myself did not see tliis figure, but I 
 relate what the Chaldeans report concerning it. Da- 
 rius, the son of Hystaspes, plotted to carry the statue 
 off, but had not the hardihood to lay his hands upon 
 it. Xerxes, however, the son of Darius, killed the 
 priest who forbade him to move the statue, and took it 
 away. Besides the ornaments which I have mentioned 
 there are a large number of private offerings in this 
 lioly precinct. 
 
 LIV.— THE TAKING OF BABYLON BY CYEUS.— Continued. 
 
 1. Many sovereigns have ruled over this city of Ba- 
 bylon and lent their aid to the building of its walls 
 and the adornment of its temples, of whom I shall make 
 mention in my A.ssyrian history. Among them were 
 two women. Of these the earlier, called Semiramis, 
 held the throne five gene^tions before *fhe later prin- 
 cess. She raised certain embankments well worthy of 
 inspection, in the plain near Babylon, to control the 
 river, which till then used to overflow and flood the 
 whole country round about. 
 
 2. The later of the two queens, whose name was 
 Nitocris, a wiser princess than her predecessor, not 
 only left behind her, as memorials of her occupancy of 
 the throne, the worj^s which I shall presently describe, 
 but also, observing the great power and restless enter- 
 prise of the Medes, who had taken so large a number 
 
306 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 of cities, and among them Nineveli,* and expecting to 
 be attacked in her turn, made all possible exertions to 
 mcrease the defenses of her empire. And first, where- 
 as the river Euphrates, which traverses the city, ran 
 formerly with a straight course to Babylon, she, by 
 certain excavations, which she made at some distance 
 up the stream, rendered it so winding that it comes 
 three several times in sight of the same village, a 
 village in Assyria, which is called Ardericca ; and to 
 this day, they who would go from^ over sea to Babylon, 
 on descending the river touch three times, and on three 
 different days, at this very place. 
 
 3. She also made an embankment along each side 
 of the Euphrates, wonderful both for breadth and 
 height, and dug a basin for a lake a great way above 
 Babylon, close alongside of the stream, which was 
 sunk everywhere to the point where they came to 
 water, and wSfe of such breadth that the whole circuit 
 measured four hundred and twenty furlongs. The soil 
 dug out of this basin was made use of in the embank- 
 ments along the water-side. When the excavation was 
 finished she had stones brought, and bordered with 
 them the entire margin of the reservoir. These two 
 things were done, the river made to wind, and the lake 
 excavated, that the stream might be slacker by reason 
 
 * Nineveli, situated on the Tigris Kiver, was at one time perhcapa 
 the most spleuded city in the world. It was taken and destroyed by 
 the Medes under their king, Cyax'ares (606 b.c). In the time ol 
 llorodotus, therefore, it had ceased to exist. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 307 
 
 of the number of curves, and the voyage be rendered 
 cu-cuitous ; and that at the end of the voyage it might 
 be necessary to skirt the lake and so make a long 
 round. All these works were on that side of Babylon 
 where the passes lay, and the roads into Media were 
 the straitest ; and the aim of the queen in making 
 them was to prevent the Medes from holding inter- 
 course with the Babylonians, and so to keep them in 
 ignorance of her affairs 
 
 4. The expedition of Cyrus was undertaken against 
 the son of tliis princess, who bore the same name as 
 her father Labynetus, and was King of the Assyriansi. 
 The Great King when he goes to the wars, is always 
 supplied with provisions carefully prepared at home, 
 and with cattle of his own. Water too from the river 
 (ko-as'pees), which flows by Susa, is taken with him for 
 his drink, as that is the only water which the kings of 
 Persia taste. Wherever he travels he is attended by a 
 number of four-wheeled cars drawn by mules, in which 
 the Choaspes water, ready boiled for use, and stored in 
 flagons of silver, is moved with him from place to 
 place. 
 
 5. Cyrus, on his way to Babylon came to the banks 
 of the Gyndes (jin-deezf), a stream which, rising in fclie 
 Matienian (ma-she-efne-an) Mountains, runs through 
 the country of the Dardanians, and empties itself into 
 the river Tigris. The Tigris, after receiving the 
 Gyndes, flows on by the city of Opis, and discharges 
 
808 THE FIFTH READER, 
 
 its waters into the Erjthsean Sea. When Cjrua 
 reached this stream, which could only be passed iu 
 boats, one of the sacred white horses accompanying 
 his march, full of spirit and high mettle, walked into 
 the water and tried to cross by himself; but the 
 current seized him, swept him ' along with it, and 
 drowned him in its depths.- 
 
 6. Cyrus enraged at the insolence of the river, 
 threatened so to break its strength that in future even 
 women should cross it easily without wetting their 
 knees. Accordingly he put off for a time his attack on 
 jBabylon, and dividing his army into two parts, he 
 marked out by ropes one hundred and eighty trenches 
 on each side of the Gyndes, leading off from it in all 
 directions, and setting his army to dig, some on one 
 side of the river, some on the other, he accomplished 
 his threat by the aid of so great a number of hands, 
 but not without losing thereby the whole summer 
 season. 
 
 7. Having, however, thus wreaked his vengeance 
 on the Gyndes, by dispersing it through three hundred 
 and sixty channels, Cyrus, with the first approach of 
 the ensuing spring, marched forward against Baby- 
 lon. The Babylonians, encamped without their walls, 
 awaited his coming. A battle was fought at a short 
 distance from the city, in which the Babylonians we^re 
 defeated by the Persian king; whereupon they with- 
 drew within their defenses. Here they shut themselves 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 309 
 
 up, and made light of his siege, having laid in a stcre 
 of provisions for many years in preparation against 
 this attack ; for when they saw Cyrus conquering 
 nation after nation, they were convinced that he 
 would never stop, and that their time would come at 
 last. 
 
 8. Cyrus was now reduced to great perplexity, as 
 time went on, and he made no progress against the 
 place. In this distress either some one made the 
 suggestion to him, or he bethought himself of a plan 
 which he proceeded to put in execution, He placed a 
 portion of his army at the point where the river enters 
 the city, and another body at the back of the place 
 where it issues forth, with orders to march into the 
 town by the bed of the stream, as soon as the waters 
 became shallow enough. He then himself drew off 
 with the unwarlike portion of his host, and made for 
 the place where Nitocris dug the basin for the river, 
 where he did exactly what she had done formerly ; he 
 turned the Euphrates by a canal into a basin, which 
 was then a marsh, on which the river sank to such an 
 extent that the natural bed of the stream became 
 fordable. 
 
 9. Hereupon the Persians, who had been left for 
 the purpose at Babylon by the river-side, entered the 
 stream, which had now sunk so as to reach about mid- 
 way up a man's thigh, and thus got into tho town. 
 Had the Babylonians been apprised of what Cyrus 
 
310 THE FIFPH READER. 
 
 was about, or had thej noticed their danger, thej 
 
 would not have allowed the entrance of the Persians 
 
 within the city, which was what ruined them utterly ; 
 
 but would have made fast all the street-gates which 
 
 gave upon the river, a ad mounting upon the walls 
 
 along both sides of the stream, would so have caught 
 
 the enemy as it were in a trap. But, as it was, the 
 
 Persians came upon them by sui-prise, and so took 
 
 the city. Owing to the vast size of the place, the 
 
 inhabitants of the central part (as the residents at 
 
 Babylon declare), long after the outer portions of the 
 
 town were taken, knew nothing of what had chanced ; 
 
 but as they were engaged in a festival, continued 
 
 dancing and reveHng until they learned the capture 
 
 but too certainly. 
 
 In the account given in the Book of Daniel of this event, the king 
 is called Belshazzar ; and we are told that, neglecting the duty of 
 watching the enemy, he gave himself up to feasting and revelry. 
 The incident which produced so starthng an interruption to his 
 festivity, and foretold the doom of the city and the king, is familiar 
 to alL The following lines of Lord Byron afford a poetic description 
 of the event. 
 
 LV.— VISION OF BELSHAZZAK. 
 
 BYBON. 
 
 1. The king was on his throne, 
 
 The satraps thronged the haL' 
 A thousand blight lamps shone 
 O'er that high festival. 
 
THE FIFTH READfiil. 311 
 
 A thousand cups of gold, 
 
 In Judah deemed divine — 
 Jeliovali's vessels hold 
 
 The godless heathen's wine. 
 
 2. In that same hour and hall, 
 
 The fingers of a hand 
 Came forth against the wall, 
 
 And wrote as if on sand 
 The fingers of a man ; — 
 
 A solitary hand 
 Along the letters ran. 
 
 And traced them like a wand. 
 
 3. The monarch saw and shook, 
 
 And bade no more rejoice ; 
 All bloodless waxed his look, 
 
 And tremulous his voice. 
 " Let the men of lore appear, 
 
 The wisest of the earth, 
 And exp'ound the words of fear 
 
 Which mar our royal mirth." 
 
 4. Chaldea's seers are good, 
 
 But here they have no skill ; 
 And the unknown letters stood 
 
 Untold and awful still. 
 And Babel's men of age 
 
 Are wise and deep in lore ; 
 But now they were not sage, 
 
 TLey saw — but knew no more 
 
812 THE ITFTH BEADitw 
 
 5 A captive* in the land, 
 
 A stranger and a youth, 
 He heard the king's command. 
 
 He saw that writing's truth. 
 The lamps around were bright 
 
 The prophecy in \dew ; 
 He read it on that night, — 
 * The morrow proved it true. 
 6. " Belshazzar's grave is made, * 
 
 His kingdom passed away, 
 He, in the balance weighed, 
 
 Is light and worthless clay. 
 The shroud his robe of state. 
 
 His canopy the stone ; 
 The Mede is at his gate ! 
 
 The Persian on his throne !" 
 
 ' Daniel had been taken to Babylon after the capture of Jerasalem 
 by Nebuchodonozer. Like Joseph in earlier times, he gained the favoi 
 of the king ; and demonstrated his divine endowment by interpreting 
 the dream of Nebuchodonozer, He had been trained in the mysteries 
 of the Chaldeans, and placed at the head of the Magi. 
 
 Babylon subsequently revolted, and was again taken by Darius Hys- 
 tapses, after a siege of two years. The Persian kings afterward made 
 Babylon their place of residence, until the kingdom was overturned by 
 Alexander the Great, who entered the city as a conqueror 331 b. c. 
 The great temple of Belus had been plundered and partly demohshed 
 by Xerxes, and Alexander undertook to restore it : but although he 
 kept ten thousand men upon it for two months, he was unable to clear 
 away the rubbish. The Macedonian conqueror died in the palace ol 
 Nebuchodonozer. After the foundation of Selucia, on the Tigris 
 River by Selucus, Babylon fell into decay *^, and now it is difficult even 
 to identify its site. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 31j3 
 
 LVL— MEMORY AND HOPE. 
 
 PAUIiDINO. 
 
 1. Hope is the leading-string of joutli ; memory the 
 staff of age. Yet, for a long time they were at variance, 
 and scarcely ever associated together. Memory was 
 almost always grave, nay, sad and melancholy. She 
 delighted in silence and repose, amid rocks and water- 
 falls ; and whenever she raised her eyes from the 
 ground, it was only to look back over her shoulder. 
 Hope was a smiling, dancing, rosy boy, with sparkling 
 eyes, and it was impossible to look upon him "vyithout 
 being inspired by his gay and sprightly buoyancy. 
 Wherever he went, he diffused gladuess and joy around 
 him ; the eyes of the young sparkled brighter than 
 ever at his approach ; old age, as it cast its dim glances 
 at the blue vault of heaven, seemed inspired with new 
 vigor ; the flowers looked more gay, the grass more 
 green, the birds sung more cheerily, and all nature 
 seemed to sympathize in his gladness. Memory was 
 of mortal birth, bur Hope partook of immortality. 
 
 2. One day they chanced to meet, and Memory re- 
 proached Hope with being a deceiver. She charged 
 him with deluding manking with visionary, impracti- 
 cable schemes, and exciting expectations that led only 
 to disappointment and regret ; with being the ignis 
 fatuus oi youth, and the scourge of old age. But Hope 
 cast back upon her the charge of deceit, and main- 
 taiued that the pictures of the past were as much ex- 
 
314 THE pT^rn iieadee. 
 
 aggerated by Memory, as were the anticipations of 
 Hope. He declared that she looked at objects at a 
 great distance in the past, he in tlie^ future, and that 
 this distance magnified every thing, " Let us make 
 the circuit of the world," said he, " and try the experi- 
 ment."* Memory reluctantly consented, and they went 
 thsir way together. 
 
 3. The first person they met was a school-bov, 
 lounging lazily along, and stopping every moment to 
 gaze around, as if unwilling to proceed on his way. By 
 and by, he sat down, and burst into tears. " Whither 
 so/ast, my good lad ?" asked Hope, jeeringly. " I am 
 going to school," replied the lad, " to study, when I 
 would rather, a thousand times, be at play ; and sit on 
 a bench with a book in my hand, while I long to be 
 sporting in the fields. But never mind, I shall be a 
 man soon, and then I shall be as free as the air. 
 Sayii^g this, he skipped away merrily in the hope of 
 soon being a man. " It is thus you play upon the in- 
 experience of youth," said Memory, reproachfully. 
 
 4. Passing onward, they met a beautiful girl, pacing 
 slowly and with a melancholy air, behind a party of 
 gay young men and maidens, who walked arm in arm 
 with each other, and were flirting and exchanging all 
 those little harmless courtesies which nature prompts 
 on such occasions. They were all gayly dressed in 
 silks and ribbons ; but the Httle girl had on a simple 
 frock, a homely apron, and clumsy, thick-soled shoes 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 815 
 
 "Why do you not join yonder group," asked Hope 
 " and partake in their gayety, my pretty little girl ?'* 
 ** x4.1as !" replied she, " they take no notice of me. 
 They call me a child. But I shall soon be a woman, 
 and then I shall be so happy !" Inspired by this hope, 
 she quickened her pace, and soon was seen dancing 
 along merrily with the rest. 
 
 5. In this manner they wended their way from 
 nation to nation, and clime to clime, until they had 
 made the circuit of the universe. Wherever they came 
 they found the human race, who, at this time, were all 
 
 - - young (it being not many years since the first creation 
 - of mankind), repining at the present, and looking for- 
 ward to a riper age for happiness. All anticipated 
 some future good, and Memory had scarce any thing 
 to do but cast looks of reproach at her young com- 
 panion. 
 
 6. " Let us return home," said she, " to that delight- 
 ful spot where I first drew my breath. I long to re- 
 
 ~ pose among its beautiful bowers ; to listen to the 
 brooks that murmured a thousand times more musi- 
 cally ; to the birds that sang a thousand times more 
 sweetly ; and to t^e echoes that were softer than any 
 I have since heard.' Ah ! there is nothing on earth so 
 enchanting as the scenes of my early youth !" Hope 
 indulged himself in a sly, significant smile, and they 
 proceeded on their return home. 
 
 7. As they josmeyed but slowly, many years elapsed 
 
316 TUE FIFTH EEADEK. 
 
 ere they approaclied the spot from which they had 
 departed. It so happened one day, that they met an 
 old man, bending under the weight of years, and 
 walking with trembling steps, leaning on his staff. 
 Memory at once recognized him as the youth they had 
 seen going to school, on their first onset in the tour of 
 the world. As they came nearer, the old man rechned 
 on his staff, and looking at Hope, who, being immortal, 
 was still a blithe young boy, sighed, as if his heart 
 was breaking. " What aileth thee, old man ?" asked 
 the youth. " What should ail me, but old age ? I 
 have outlived my health and strength ; I have survived 
 all that was near and dear ; I have seen all that I 
 loved, or that loved me, struck down to the earth like 
 dead leaves in autumn ; and now I stand like an old 
 tree, withering, alone in the world, without roots, 
 without branches, and without verdure. I have only 
 just enough of sensation to know that I am miserable, 
 and the recollection of the happiness of my youthful 
 days, when, careless and full of blissful anticipations, I 
 was a laughing, merry boy, only adds to the miseries I 
 now endure." 
 
 8. " Behold !" said Memory, " the consequence of 
 thy deceptions," and she looked reproachfully at her 
 companion. " Behold !" replied Hope, " the decep- 
 tion practiced by thyself. Thou persuadest him th^t 
 he was happy in his youth. Dost thou remember 
 the boy we met when we first set out together, who 
 
•nrE FIFTH JJEADEB. 
 
 J17 
 
 was weeping on his way to school, and sighed to be a 
 man ?" Memory cast down her eyes, and was silent. 
 
 9. A little way onward they came to a miserable 
 cottage, at the door of which was an aged woman, 
 meanly clad, and shaking with palsy. She sat all 
 alone, her head resting on her bosom, and as the pair 
 approached, vainly tried to raise it up to look af them. 
 " Good-morrow, old lady, and all happiness to you," 
 cried Hope, gayly, and the old woman thought it was 
 a long time since she had heard such a cheering saluta- 
 tion. " Happiness !" said she, in a voice that quivered 
 with weakness and infirmity. " Happiness ! I have 
 not known it since I was a little girl, without care or 
 sorrow. Oh, I remember those days, when I thought 
 of nothing but the present moment, nor cared for the 
 future or the past. When I laughed, and played, and 
 sung, from morning till night, and envied no one, and 
 wished to be no other than I was. But those happy 
 times are passed, never to return. Oh, could I but 
 once more return to the days of my childhood !" The 
 old woman sunk back on her seat, and the tears flowed 
 from her hollow eyes. Memory again reproached her 
 campanion, but he only asked her if ^e recollected 
 the little girl they had met a long time ago, who was 
 so miserable because she was so young? Memory 
 knew it well enough, and said not another word. 
 
 10. They now approached their home, and Mem#ry 
 was on tiptoe with the thought of once more enjoying 
 
3lo the fipth reader. 
 
 the unequaled beauties of those scenes from which 
 she had been so long separated. But, some how or 
 other, it seemed that they were sadly changed.. 
 Neither the grass was so green, the flowers so sweet 
 and lovely, nor did the brooks murmur, the echoes 
 answer, nor the birds sing half so enchantingly, as she 
 remembered them in time past. "Alas!" she ex- 
 claimed, " how changed is every thing ! I alone am the 
 same !" " Every thing is the same, and fhou alone 
 art changed," answered Hope. " Thou hast deceived 
 .thyself in the past, just as much as I deceive ethers in 
 the future." 
 
 11. " What are you disputing about ?" asked an old 
 man, whom they had not observed before, though he 
 was standing close by them. "I have lived almost 
 fourscore and ten years, and my experience may, 
 perhaps, enable me to decide between you." They 
 told him the occasion of their disagreement, and 
 related the history of their journey round the earth. 
 The old man smiled, and for a few moments, sat buried 
 in thought. He then said to them : " I, too, have lived 
 to see all the hopes of my youth turn into shadows, 
 clouds, and datrkness, and vanish into nothing. I, too, 
 have survived my fortune, my friends, my children ; 
 the hilarity of youth, and the blessing of health." 
 " And dost thou not despair ?" said Memory. " No, I 
 hi^e still one hope left me." "And what is that ?" 
 " The hope of heaven!" 
 
THE FIFTH READEE. 319 
 
 12. Memory turned towards Hope, threw herself 
 into his arms, which opened to receive her, and, burst- 
 ing into tears, exclaimed : " Forgive me, I have done 
 thee injustice. Let us never again separate from each 
 other." "With all my heart," said Hope, and they 
 continued forever after to travel together, hand in 
 hand, through the world. 
 
 LVIL— CHBISTMAS. 
 
 liOKD JOHN MANNERS. 
 
 1. Old Christmas comes about again, 
 
 The blessed day draws near. 
 Albeit our faith and love do wax 
 More faint and cold each year. 
 
 Oh ! but it was a goodly sound. 
 
 In th' unenlightened days, 
 To hear our fathers raise their song 
 
 Of simple-hearted praise. 
 
 2. Oh ! but it was a goodly sight 
 
 The rough-built hall to see. 
 Glancing with high-born dames and men. 
 And hinds^ of low degree. 
 
 To Holy Church's dearest sons, 
 
 The humble and the poor, 
 To all who came, the seneschal 
 
 Threw open wide the door. 
 
J20 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 3. With morris-dance, and carol-song, 
 
 And quaint old mystery, 
 Memorials of a holy-day 
 Were mingled in their glee. 
 
 Red berries bright, and holly green, 
 Proclaimed o'er hall and bower, 
 
 That Holy Church ruled all the land 
 With undisputed power. 
 
 4. O'er wrekin^ wide, from side to side. 
 
 From greybeard, maid, and boy. 
 Loud rang the notes, swift flowed the tide 
 Of unrestrained joy. 
 
 And now, of all our customs rare. 
 And good old English ways. 
 
 This one, of keeping Ohristm as-time. 
 Alone has reached our days. 
 
 5. Still, though our hearty glee has gone, 
 
 Though faith and love be cold, 
 Btill do we welcome Christmas-tide 
 As fondly as of old. 
 
 Still round the old paternal hearth 
 
 Do loving faces meet, 
 And brothers, parted through the year, 
 
 Do brothers kindly greet. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 321 
 
 6. Oil! may we aye, wliate'er betide, 
 Christian joy and mirth, 
 Sing welcome to the blessed day 
 That gave our Saviour birth ! 
 
 liiNDs, domestics ; rustics of low | for country ; a neighborhood 
 degree. 1 3 Aye, always ; forever. 
 
 » Wbb'-kin, the old Anglo-Saxon 
 
 LVIIL-THE TRUCE OF GOD. 
 
 FBEDET > 
 
 1. Another excellent institution that owed its exist- 
 tf^rxe to the middle ages, and for which humanity was 
 also indebted to the happy influence of religion, was 
 the sacred compact usually termed the Truce of God. 
 From the ninth to the eleventh century, the feudal 
 system, however beautiful in many of its principles, 
 had been a constant source of contentions and wars. 
 Each petty chieftain arrogated to himseK an almost 
 unlimited use of force and violence to avenge his 
 wrongs, and pursue his rights, whether real or pre- 
 tended. As, moreover, vassals were obliged to espouse 
 the quarrels of their immediate lords, rapine, blood- 
 shed, and their attendant miseries were to be seen 
 everywhere; nor could the most pacific citizens depend 
 on one moment of perfect security, either for their 
 properties oi their lives. 
 
 2. Religion, by her divine and universally revered 
 
322 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 au'tliority, was alone capable of raising an efficacious 
 barrier against this torrent of evils. Experience 
 having already shown the ira possibility of stemming it 
 at onco, prudent measures were taken gradually to 
 diminish its violence. Several bishops ordered, under 
 penalty of excommunication, that, every week, during 
 the four days consecrated to the memory of our 
 Saviour's passion, death, burial, and resurrection, viz., 
 from the afternoon of Wednesday till the m'orning of 
 the following Monday, whatever might be the cause of 
 strife and quarrel, all private hostilities should cease. 
 
 3. Shortly after, the same prohibition was extended 
 to the whole time of Advent and Lent, including several 
 weeks both after Christmas and after Easter-Sunday. 
 This beneficial institution, which originated in France 
 towards the year 1040, was adopted in England, Spain, 
 etc., and was confirmed by several popes and councils ; 
 nor must it be thought that it remained a dead letter : 
 its success, on the contrary, was so remarkable, that 
 the pious age in which the experiment was madw, 
 hesitated not to attribute it to the interposition of 
 Heaven. 
 
 4. Thus, by the exertions of ecclesiastical authorit \ , 
 the horrors and calamities of feuded ivar began to be 
 considerably lessened and abridged. Its ravages wero 
 restrained to three days in the week and to certain 
 seasons of the jeav ; during the intervals of peace, 
 thf.rf' was leisure for passion to cool, for the mind to 
 
THE FIFTH READER, 323 
 
 Bicken at a languishing warfare, and for socival habits to 
 become more and more deeply rooted. A considerable 
 number of days and weeks afforded security to all, 
 and all, being now shielded by the religious sanction of 
 this sacred compaqt, could travel abroad, or attend to 
 their domestic affairs , without danger of molestation. 
 
 5. Such was the splendid victory which the religion 
 of Christ won over the natural fierceness of the ancient 
 tribes of the north ; a victory whose completion was 
 also due to her influence, when the Crusades obliged 
 those restless warriors to turn against the ' invading 
 hordes of the Saracens and Turks, those weapons 
 which they had hitherto used against their fellow- 
 christians. 
 
 LIX.— THE FLIGHT OF XEBXES. 
 
 JEWSBUKY. 
 
 1. I saw him on the battle-eve, 
 
 When, like a king, he bore him, — 
 Proud hosts in glittering helm and greave, * 
 
 And prouder chiefs before him : 
 The warrior, and the warrior's deeds — 
 The morrow, and the morrow's meeds, ^ — 
 
 No daunting thoughts came o'er him ; 
 He looked around him, and his eye 
 Defiance flashed to earth and sky. 
 
324 THE FIFTH keadt:ti. 
 
 2. He looked on ocean, — its broad breast 
 
 Was covered with his fleet ; 
 On earth — and saw from east to west, 
 
 His bannered millions meet ; 
 While rock, and glen, and cave, and coast^ 
 Shook with the war-cry of that host, 
 
 The thunder of their feet ! 
 He heard the imperial echoes ring, — 
 He heard, — and felt himself a king. 
 
 3. I saw him next alone : — nor camp, 
 
 Nor chief, his steps attended ; 
 Nor banner blazed, nor courser's tramp 
 
 With war-cries proudly blended. 
 He stood alone, whom fortune high 
 So lately seemed to defy ; 
 
 He, who with heaven contended. 
 Fled like a fugitive and slave ! 
 Behind — the foe ; before — the wave. 
 
 4. He stood ; — ^fleet, army, treasure, —gone, — 
 
 Alone, and in despair ! 
 
 But wave and wind swept ruthless on, 
 
 For they were monarchs there ; 
 
 And Xerxes, in a single bark, 
 
 * 
 
 Where late his thousand ships were dark, 
 
 Must all their fury dare : 
 
 What a revenge — a trophy, this— r 
 
 For thee, immortal Salaniis ! 
 
 > Gbeaves, armor for the legs. 
 • ]VJ!eeds, reward, recompense. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 325 
 
 LX.— THE AMERICAN PATRIOT'S SONG. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 1. Hark ! hear ye the sounds that the winds on their 
 
 pinions 
 Exultingly roll from the shore to the sea, 
 "With a voice that resounds through her boundless 
 dominions ? 
 *Tis Columbia calls on her sons to be free ! 
 
 2. Behold on yon summits, where heaven has throned 
 
 her. 
 How she starts from her proud inaccessible seat, 
 With nature's impregnable ramparts around her. 
 And the cataract's thunder and foam at her feet ! 
 
 3. In the breeze of her mountains her loose locks are 
 
 shaken, 
 While the soul-stirring notes of her warrior -song 
 From the rock to the valley re-echo, " Awaken, 
 " Awaken ye hearts that have slumbered too long !'* 
 
 4. Yes, despots ! too long did your tyranny hf.*ld us, 
 
 In a vassalage vile, ere its weakness waa known ; 
 Till we learned that the links of the chain (hat con- 
 trolled us 
 Were forged by the fears of its captives alone. 
 
 5. That spell is destroyed, and no longer availing. 
 
 Despised as detested — pause well ere ye dare 
 To cope with a people whose spirit and feeling 
 Are roused by lemembramje and steeled by 
 despair. 
 
326 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 6. Go tame the wild torrent, or stem witli a straw 
 
 The proud surges that sweep o'er the strand that 
 
 confines them ; 
 But presume not again to give freemen a law, 
 Nor think with the chains they have broken to bind 
 
 them. 
 
 7. To hearts that the spirit of liberty flushes, 
 
 Resistance is idle, — and numbers a dream ; — 
 They burst from control, as the mountain-stream 
 rushes 
 From its fetters of ice, in the warmth of the beam. 
 
 LXL— OUE SAVIOUE. 
 
 LACOBDAIRE. 
 
 1. I am wrong, gentlemen ; there is a Man whose 
 tomb is guarded by love, there is a Man whose sepul 
 cher is not only glorious, as a prophet declared, but 
 whose sepulcher is loved. There is a Man whose ashes, 
 after eighteen centuries, have not grown cold ; who 
 daily lives again in the thoughts of an innumerable 
 multitude of men ; who is visited in His cradle by shep- 
 herds and by kings, who vie with each other in bring- 
 Lig to Him gold and frankincense and myrrh. There 
 is a Man whose steps are uuweariedly retrodden by a 
 large portion of mankind, and who, although no longer 
 present, is followed by that throng in all the scenes of 
 His bygone pilgvim.ig«3, upon the knees of His mother, 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 327 
 
 by the borders of the lakes, to the tops of the moun- 
 tains, in the by-ways of the valleys, under the shade of 
 the olive-trees, in the still solitude of the deserts. 
 There is a Man, dead and buried, whose sleep and whose 
 awaking have ever eager watchers, whose every word 
 still vibrates and produces more than love, produces 
 virtues fructifying in love. There is a Man, who 
 eighteen centuries ago was nailed to the gibbet, and 
 whom millions of adorers daily detach from this throne 
 of His suffering, and kneeling before Him, prostrating 
 themselves as low as they can without shame, there, 
 upon the earth, they kiss His bleeding feet with un- 
 speakable ardor. There is a Man who was scourged, 
 killed, crucified, whom an ineffable passion raises from 
 death and infamy, and exalts to the glory of love un- 
 faihng which finds in Him peace, honor, joy, and even 
 ecstacy. There is a Man pursued in His sufferings and 
 in His tomb by undying hatred, and who, demanding 
 apostles and martyrs from all posterity, finds apostles 
 and martyrs in all generations. There is a Man, iu 
 fine, and one only, who has founded His love upon 
 earth, and that Man is Thyself, O Jesus ! who hast been 
 pleased to baptize me, to anoint me, to consecrate me 
 in thy love, and whose name alone now opens my verj^ 
 heart, and draws from it those accents which ovei- 
 power me and raise me above myself. 
 
 2. But among great men who are loved ? Among 
 warriors? Is it Alexander ? Co ai- ? Charlemagne? 
 
328 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Among sages ? Aristotle ? or Plato ? Wlio is loved 
 among great men? Who? Name me even one ; name 
 me a single man who has died and left love upon his 
 tomb. Mahomet is venerated by Mussulmen ; he is 
 not loved. No feeling of love has ever touched the 
 lieart of a Mussulman repeating his maxim : " God is 
 God, and Mahomet is his prophet." One man alone 
 has gathered from all ages a love which never fails ; 
 Jesus Christ is the sovereign lord of hearts as He is of 
 minds, and by a grace confirmatory of that which be- 
 longs only to Him, He has given to His saints also the 
 privilege of producing in men a pious and faithful re- 
 membrance. 
 
 3. Yet even this is not all ; the kingdom of souls is 
 not yet established. Jesus Christ, being God, should 
 not be satisfied with steadfast faith and infmortal love. 
 He must exact adoration. Adoration is the annihilation 
 of one's self before a superior being, and this sentiment 
 gentlemen, is not a stranger to us. It lies, like all 
 others, in the very depth of our nature, and plays a 
 more important part there than you are perhaps aware 
 of. Let us not disguise this truth from ourselves ; all 
 of us, more or less, desire to be adored. It is this in- 
 nate thirst for adoration which has produced every 
 tyranny. 
 
 4. You sometimes wonder that a prince should 
 weave together numberless intrigues in order to eman- 
 cipate himself from Immati and divine laws; that he 
 
THE FlJrfH READER. 320 
 
 should add violence to cunning, shed streams of blood 
 and march onward to the execration of mankind ; 3'ou 
 ask yourselves why he does this. Ah ! gentlemen, for 
 the very natural object of being adored, of seeing every 
 thought subject to his own, every will in conformity to 
 his will, every right, every duty, emanating from him, 
 and even the bodies of men bent like slaves before his 
 mortal body. Such is the depth of our heart, as was 
 Satan's. But by a counterpoise due to that frightful 
 malady of pride, we can only desire adoration for our- 
 selves by abhorring the adoration of others. Thence 
 springs the execration that follows despotism. Man- 
 kind, abased by a power despising all law, concen- 
 trates its secret indignation within itself, awaits the 
 inevitable day of the despot's weakness, and, when that 
 day comes, it turns upon and tramples under foot the 
 vile creature who had disdained it even to demanding 
 incense from it. 
 
 5. A great orator once said to a celebrated tribune : 
 " There is but one step from the Capital to the Tar- 
 peian rock." I shall say with as much truth, although 
 in less grand expression : There is but one step from 
 the altar to the common sewer. "Whosoever has been 
 addled will sooner or later be hurled by the hand of 
 the people from the lofty summit of divine majesty 
 usurped, to the execration of eternal opprobrium. Suck 
 do we find history — that power charged with the pro 
 
330 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 mulgation of the judgments of God upon tlie pride of 
 man. 
 
 6. In spite of history, however, Jesus Christ is 
 adored. A Man, mortal and dead. He has obtained 
 adoration which still endures, and of which the world 
 offers no other example. What emperor has held his 
 temples and his statues ? What has become of all that 
 population of gods created by adulation? Their dust 
 even no longer exists, and the surviving remembrance 
 of them serves but to excite our wonder at the extrava- 
 gance of men and the justice of God. Jesus Christ 
 alone remains standing upon His altars, not in a corner 
 of the world, but over the whole earth, and among 
 nations celebrated by the cultivation of the mind. The 
 greatest monuments of art shelter His sacred images, 
 the most magnificent ceremonies assemble the people 
 under the influence of His name ; poetry, music, paint- 
 ing, sculpture, exhaust their resources to proclaim His 
 glory and to offer Him incense worthy of the adoration 
 which ages have consecrated to Him. And yet, upon 
 what throne do they adore Him? Upon a Cross! 
 Upon a Cross ? They adore Him under the mean ap- 
 pearance of bread and wine ! Here, thought becomes 
 altogether confounded. It would seem that this ^an 
 has taken delight in abusing His strange power, and 
 in insulting mankind by prostrating them in wonder 
 before the most vain shadows. Having by His cruci- 
 fixion descended lower than death. He made even igno- 
 
THE FIFTH RE.VDER. 831 
 
 miny the throne of His divinitj' ; and, not satisfied with 
 this triumph, He willed that we should acknowledge 
 His supreme essence and His eternal life by an adora- 
 tion which is a startling contradiction to our senses 
 Can such success in such daring be in any way under- 
 stood? 
 
 ^7. It is true many have endeavored to overthrow His 
 altars ; but their powerlessness has but served to con- 
 firm His glory. At each outrage^ He has seemed to 
 grow greater ; genius has protected Him against ge- 
 nius, science against science, empire against empire ; 
 whatever arms have been uplifted against Him He has 
 made His own; and, when apparently vanquished, 
 the world has still beheld Him calm, serene, master, 
 adored ! 
 
 LXIL— THE BIETH OF OUR SAVIOUB. 
 
 DOMMET. 
 
 It was the calm and silent night ! — 
 
 Seven hundred years and fifty-three 
 Had Eome been growing up to might, 
 
 And now was queen of land and sea ! 
 No sound was heard of clashing wars, 
 
 Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain ; 
 Apollo, Pallas, Jove and Mars 
 
 Held undisturbed their ancient reign, 
 In the solemn midnight. 
 Centuries ago ! 
 
382 THE FIFTH KEADER. 
 
 2. 'Twas in the calm and silent night ! 
 The senator of haughty Rome 
 Impatient urged his chariot's flight, 
 
 From lordly revel rolling home. 
 Triumphal arches., gleaming, swell 
 
 His breast with thouglits of boundless awuf^ 
 "What recked^ the Roman what befell « 
 
 A paltry province far away, 
 In the solemn midnight, 
 Centuries ago. 
 
 8. Within that province far away 
 
 Went plodding home a weary boor ; 
 A streak of light before him lay, 
 
 Fallen through a half-shut stable door 
 Across his path. He paused, for naught 
 
 Told what was going on within ; 
 How keen the stars, his only thought ; 
 The air how calm, and cold, and thin, 
 In the solemn midnight, 
 Centuries ago ! 
 
 4. O, strange indifference ! — low and high, 
 Drowsed'' over common joys and caros 
 
 The earth was still, but knew not why ; 
 The world was listening — unawares ! 
 
 How calm a moment may precede 
 
 One that shall thrill the world forever t 
 
 To that still momeiit none would heed. 
 
TfiE FIFTH READEE. 333 
 
 Man's doom was linked, no more to sever, 
 In the solemn midnight. 
 Centuries ago ! 
 
 6. It is the calm and solemn night I 
 
 A thousand bells ring out, and throw 
 Their joyous peals abroad, and smite 
 
 The darkness, charmed and holy now ! 
 The night that erst no shame had worn, 
 
 To it a happy name is given ; 
 For in that stable lay, new-born, 
 
 The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven, 
 In the solemn midnight, 
 Centuries ago ! 
 
 • Beoe'-ed, heeded ; regarded. | 2 Dbows'-ed, supine ; dull 
 
 LXm.— DEATH OF ST. THOMAS A BECKET, ARCHBISHOP 
 OF CANTERBURY. 
 
 [Thomas a Becket was appointed chancellor shortly after the ac- 
 cession of Henry II., by whom he was treated with the most un- 
 bounded confidence and favor. The pomp of his retinue, the 
 Bumptuousness of his furniture and apparel, and the luxury of his 
 table, were scarcely surpassed by those of the king himself ; and he 
 exercised very great influence in all afiairs of state. Being made arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, he changed his whole course of life, and became 
 as distinguished in austerity and piety as he had been previously for 
 his luxury and splendor. The king desiring to bring the Church into 
 a greater subservience to the royal power, was vigorously opposed by 
 the archbishop who determined to defend to the last the privileges 0/ 
 the Church. The king, however, succeeded in carrying his measures 
 
331 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 for a time, and Eecket fled to France. The remainder of his hisiorj 
 is told in the following narrative, taken from the "History of England," 
 by Di;, Lingard. * c- 
 
 1. Becket, after an absence of six years, returned to 
 England, accompanied by John, Bishop of Oxford. 
 He carried with him letters of excommunication against 
 three prelates, for having officiated at the coronation 
 of the son of Henry, and otherwise abetting the king. 
 These prelates sent soldiers to seize the letters ; but 
 Becket, hearing of their intention, gave them to a 
 messenger, who handed them publicly to the bishops, 
 at which circumstance they were so indignant, tliat 
 they went to Henry, in France, and endeavored as 
 much as possible to rekindle discord between him and 
 Becket. 
 
 2. Under the protection of his conductor, the pri- 
 mate reached Canterbury, where he was joyfully 
 received by the clergy and people. Thence he pre- 
 pared to visit Woodstock, the residence of the young 
 Henry, to pay his respects to the prince, and to justify 
 his late conduct ; but the courtiers, who dreaded his 
 influence over the mind of his former pupil, procured a 
 peremptory order for him to return, and confine him- 
 self to his own diocese. He obeyed, and spent the 
 following days in prayer and the functions of his 
 station. 
 
 3. Yet they were days of distress and anxiety. The 
 menaces of his enemies seemed to derive importance 
 from each succeeding ^.vent. His provisions were 
 
TBS FIFTH " RTr.AT>i fr.R, 335 
 
 lioiirly intercepted ; his property was plundered ; hia 
 servants were beaten and insulted. On Christmas-day 
 he ascended the pulpit ; his sermon was distinguished 
 by the earnestness and animation with which he 
 spdve. At the conclusion, he observed that those who 
 thirsted for his blood would soon be satisfied, but ,that 
 he would first avenge the wrongs of his church by ex- 
 communicating Eanulph and Kobert* de Broc, who for 
 seven years had not ceased to inflict every injury in 
 their power on him, on his clergy, and on his monks. 
 
 4. On the following Tuesday, four knights, Keginald 
 Fitzurse, William Tracy, Hugh de Morevihe, and 
 "Richard Brito, arrived secretly in the neighborhood. 
 They had been present in Normandy, when the king, 
 irritated by the representations of the three bishops, 
 had exclaimed, " Of the cowards who eat my bread, is 
 there not one who will free me from this turbulwnt 
 priest ?" and mistaking this passionate expression for 
 the royal license, had bound themselves by oath to 
 return to England, and either carry off or murder the 
 primate. They assembled at Saltwood, the residence 
 of the Brocs, to arrange their operations. 
 
 5. The next day, after dinner, when the archbishop 
 was transacting business in a private apartment, it was 
 announced that four knights wished to speak with him 
 from the king. He ordered them to be admitted, and 
 at the same time sent for the principal persons in his 
 Lousehold to be present. The knights entered very 
 
O.JO THB FIFTH BEADEB. 
 
 auceremoniously, and seated tlieinselves apart on the 
 floor. Becket, who pretended at first not to notice 
 their entrance, casting his eyes upon them, saw that 
 ^hree of the four were well known to him, having been 
 formerly in his- service aud done homage to him. , 
 
 6. lie saluted them, but the salute was returned 
 with insult. They ordered him, as if they had such a 
 commission from the king, to absolve the excommuni- 
 cated prelates, and to make satisfaction to the young 
 Henry, whom he had traitorously attempted to deprive 
 of the crown. He replied with firmness, and occasion- 
 ally with warmth, that if he had pubhshed the papal 
 letters, it had been with the permission of his 
 sovereign ; that the case of the Archbishop of York 
 had been reserved to the pontiff; that with respect to 
 the other bishops, he was wilHng to absolve them, 
 whenerer they should take the accustomed oath of 
 submission to the determination of the Church; and 
 that, so far from wishing to take the crown from his 
 former pupil, the young king, he called God to witness 
 that he would, if it were in his power, heap additional 
 crowns upon his head. 
 
 7. They then declared that if such were his resolv^ 
 lie must quit England forever. Neither he nor his 
 could have peace in the king's dominions. "No," 
 exclaimed the archbishop ; " never again shall the sea 
 lie between me and my Church. Here I am. If 1 
 am permitted to j)erform my dutios, it is well ; if nol^ 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 337 
 
 I submit to the will of God. But how comes it that 
 you, knowing what was heretofore between us, dare to 
 threaten me in my own house ?" " We shall do more 
 than threaten," was the reply. Fitzurse then called 
 upon the archbishop's men to give him back their 
 homage ; and ordered all present, in the king's name, 
 to keep watch over him, that he did not escape. 
 " Have no fear of that," he exclaimed, following them 
 to the door ; " come when you may, you will find me 
 here." 
 
 .The knights withdrew to a large house immedi- 
 ately opposite, where they armed themselves and their 
 followers ; and, to prevent a rescue, sent an order, in 
 the king's name, to the mayor and his brethren, to 
 preserve the peace in the city. At the departure of 
 the knights, the archbishop returned to his seat, ap- 
 parently cool and collected. Neither in tone nor 
 gesture did he betray the slightest apprehension, 
 though consternation and despair were depicted on 
 every countenance around him. 
 
 9. It was the hour of evening service, and at the 
 sound of the psalmody in the choir, a voice exclaimed, 
 '*To the church — it will afford protection." But 
 Becket had said that he would wait them there, and 
 refused to remove from the place. Word was now 
 brought that the knights had forced their way through 
 the garden, and made an entrance by the windows. 
 A few moments later they were heard, at no great 
 
**38 THE FIFTH RE.iDER. 
 
 distance, breaking down with axes a strong partition 
 of oak, which impeded their progress. In a paroxysm 
 of terror, the archbishop's attendants closed around 
 him, and notwithstanding his resistance, bore him with 
 pious violence through the cloister into the chuich. 
 The door was immediately closed and barred against 
 the assassins, who were already in sight. 
 -'10. Becket walked leisurely along the transept, and 
 was ascending the steps which led to his favorite altar, 
 •when he heard the cries of the knights, demanding ad- 
 mission at the door. Without hesitation, he ordered 
 it to be thrown open, saying that the house of God 
 should not be made a military fortress. Immediately 
 his attendants, monks, and clergy, dispersed to conceal 
 themselves, some behind the columns, others under the 
 altars. Had he followed their example, he might 
 have saved his life ; for it was growing dark, and both 
 the crypts and the staircase before him, which led to 
 the roof, offered places of concealment. But he turned 
 to meet his enemies ; and stationing himself, with his 
 back against a column, between the altars of St. Mary 
 and St. Bennet, waited their approach. 
 
 11. The four knights and their twelve companions 
 rushed into the church, with drawn swords and loud 
 cries. " To me, ye king's men," shouted their leader. 
 " Where is the traitor?" exclaimed Hugh of Horsey, a 
 military sub-deacon, 'known by the characteristic sur- 
 name of Manclerc. No answer was returned ; but to 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 339 
 
 the question, * Wliere is the archbishop ?' Becket re- 
 plied, "Here I am, the archbishop, but no traitor. 
 What is your will?" They turned to him and insisted 
 that he should immediately absolve all whom he had 
 placed under ecclesiastical censures ; to which he re- 
 plied that, until they had promised satisfaction, he could 
 not. " Then die," exclaimed a voice. " I am ready," 
 returned the prelate, " to die for the cause of God and 
 the Church. But I forbid you, in the name of the Al- 
 mighty God, to touch any one of my household, clerk 
 or layman." 
 
 12. There seems to have been some hesitation on 
 the part of the murderers. They would rather have 
 shed his blood without the Church than within its 
 walls. An attempt was made by some of them to drag 
 him away ; but he resisted it with success, through the 
 aid of a clergyman called Edward Grim, who threw his 
 arms round the archbishop's waist. " Beginald," said 
 Becket to Fitzurse, " how dare you do this ? Remem- 
 ber, that you have been my man." " I am now the 
 king's man," replied the assassin, aiming a blow at the 
 primate's head. Grim interposed his arm, which was 
 broken and severed in two ; still the sword passed 
 through Becket's cap and wounded him on the crown. 
 
 13. As he felt the blood trickling down his cheek, he 
 wiped it away with his sleeve, and having joined his 
 bands and bent his head in the attitude of prayer, said 
 " Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." In 
 
310 THE FIFTH KEADEIi. 
 
 this posture, witli his face to his murderers, and with- 
 out shrinking or speaking, he awaited a second stioke, 
 which threw him on his knees and elbows. The third 
 stroke was given by Richard Brito, with such violence 
 that he cut off the upper part of the archbishop's head 
 and broke his own sword on the pavement. The 
 murderers were retiring, when Hugh of Horsey, turn- 
 ing back, set his foot on the neck of the corpse, and 
 drawing the brain out of the skull with the point of 
 his sword, scattered it around. " Fear not," he said, 
 " the man will never rise again." They returned to 
 the palace, which they rifled, taking away with them 
 spoil, as it was estimated, to the value of two thousand 
 marks. 
 
 14. Thus at the age of fifty-three, perished this ex- 
 traordinary man, a martyr to what he deemed his duty 
 — the preservation of the immunities of the Church. 
 The moment of his death was the triumph of his cause. 
 His personal virtues and exalted station, the dignity 
 and composure with which he met his fate, the sacred- 
 ness of the place where the murder was perpetrated — 
 all contributed to inspire men with horror for his 
 enemies and veneration for his character. 
 
THE FIFTH READEK. 341 
 
 LXIV.— MONK FELIX. 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 1. One morning all alone, 
 
 Out of his convent of gray stone, 
 
 Into tlie forest older, darker, grayer, 
 
 His lips moving as if in prayer. 
 
 His head sunken upon his breast 
 
 As in a dream of rest, 
 
 Walked the Monk Felix. All about 
 
 The broad, sweet sunshine lay without 
 
 Filling the summer air ; 
 
 And within the woodlands as he trod. 
 
 The twihght was like the truce of God, 
 
 With worldly woe and care. 
 
 2 Under him lay the golden moss ; 
 
 And above him the boughs of the hemlock trees 
 
 Waved, and made the sign of the cross, 
 ' And whispered their Benedicites ; 
 
 And from the ground 
 
 Hose an odor, sweet and fragrant, 
 
 Of the wild-flowers and the vagrant 
 
 Vines that wandered. 
 
 Seeking the sunshine round and round ; 
 
 These he heeded not, but pondered 
 
 On the volume in his hand, 
 
 A volume of St. Augustin, 
 
 Wherein he read of the unseen 
 
 Splendors of God's great town 
 
342 THE rrPTE reader. 
 
 In the unknown land, 
 
 And, with his eyes cast down, 
 
 In hamility he said : 
 
 " I beheve, God, 
 
 What herein I have read. 
 
 But, alas ! I io not understand I" 
 
 3. And lo ! he heard 
 
 The sudden singing of a bird, 
 
 A snow-white bird, that from a cloud 
 
 Dropped down, 
 
 And among the branches brown 
 
 Sat singing 
 
 So sweet, and clear, and loud 
 
 It seemed a thousand harp-strings ringing. 
 
 And the Monk Felix closed his book. 
 
 And long, long. 
 
 With rapturous look, 
 
 He listened to the song, 
 
 And hardly breathed or stirred, 
 
 Until he saw, as in a vision, 
 
 The land of Elysian, 
 
 And in the heavenly city heard 
 
 Angelic feet 
 
 Fall on the golden flagging of the street. 
 
 And he woald fain have caught the wondrous bird. 
 
 But strove in vain ; 
 
 For it flew away, away. 
 
THE FIFTH KEADEK, 343 
 
 Far over hill and dell, 
 
 And instead of its sweet singing 
 
 He heard the convent bell 
 
 Suddenly in the silence ringing 
 
 For the service of noonday. 
 
 And he retraced 
 
 His pathway homeward, sadly and in haste. 
 4 In the convent there was a change I 
 
 He looked for each well-known face, 
 
 But the faces were new and strange ; 
 
 N^ew figures sat in the oaken stalls, 
 
 New voices chanted in the choir ; 
 
 Yet the place was the same place. 
 
 The same dusty walls 
 
 Of old gray stone ; 
 
 The same cloisters, and belfry, and spire. 
 V. A stranger and alone 
 
 Among that brotherhood 
 
 The Monk Felix stood. 
 
 " Forty years," said a friar, 
 
 " Have I been prior 
 
 Of this convent in the wood ; 
 
 But for that space. 
 
 Never have I beheld thy face I" 
 6. The heart of the Monk Felix fell ; 
 
 And he answered with submissive tone, 
 
 " This morning after the hour of Prime 
 
 I left my cell. 
 
314 THE FIFTH READriL 
 
 And wandered forth alone, 
 
 Listening all tlie time 
 
 To the melodious singing 
 
 Of a beautiful white bi^4. 
 
 Until I heard 
 
 The bells of the convent ringing 
 
 Noon from their noisy towers. 
 
 It was as if I dreamed ; 
 
 For what to me had seemed 
 
 Moments only, had been hours !'* 
 
 7. "Years !" said a voice close by. ' 
 It was an aged monk who spoke, 
 From a bench of oak 
 Fastened against the wall ; 
 He was the oldest monk of alL 
 For a whole century 
 Had he been there, 
 Serving God in prayer, 
 The meekest and humblest of his creatures. 
 He remembered well the features 
 Of Felix, and he said, 
 Speaking distinct and slow 
 ". One hundred years ago. 
 When I was a novice in this plaae, 
 There was here a monk full of God's grace, 
 Who bore the name 
 Of Fehx, and this man must be the same." 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 345 
 
 8. And straightway 
 
 They brought forth to the light of day 
 
 A volume old and brown, 
 
 A huge tome, bound 
 
 In brass and wild boar's hide, 
 
 Wherein was written down 
 
 The names of all who had died 
 
 In the convent since it was edified. 
 
 And there they found, 
 
 Just as the old monk said, 
 
 That on a certain day and date, 
 
 Olie hundred years before. 
 
 Had gone forth from the convent gate 
 
 The Monk Felix, and never more 
 
 Had entered that sacred door. 
 
 He had been counted among the dead ! 
 
 And they knew, at last, 
 
 That such had been the power 
 
 Of that celestial and immortal song, 
 
 A hundred years had passed. 
 
 And had not seemed so long as a single hour I 
 
 LXIV.— THE FIRST CRUSADE. 
 
 CONDENSED FKOM MICHELKT.^ 
 
 1. A Picard, usually called Peter the Hermit, is s ud 
 to have powerfully contributed, by his eloquence, to the 
 great popular movement. On his return from a pil- 
 
316 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 grimage to Jerusalem, lie persuaded the Pope, Urban 
 II., to preach the crusade, first at Placenza, then at 
 Clermont (a, d. 1095;. In Italy the call was unheeded , 
 in France every one rushed to arms. At .the council of 
 Clermont, four hundred bishops or mitered abbots were 
 present ; it was the triumph of the Church and the 
 people ; and the condemnation of the greatest names 
 on the earth, those of the emperor and the king of 
 France, no less than the Turks ; and of the dispute as 
 well, concerning the riglit of investiture, which had got 
 mixed up with the question of advance on Jerusalem. 
 All mounted the red cross on their shoulders. * Red 
 stu£fs and vestments of every kind were torn in pieces, 
 yet were insufficient for the purpose. 
 
 2. An extraordinary spectacle was then presented : 
 the world seemed upside down. Men suddenly con- 
 ceived a disgust for all they had before prized ; and 
 hastened to quit their proud castles, their wives, and 
 children. There was no need of preaching ; they 
 preached to each other, says a cotemporary, both by 
 word and example. "Thus," he proceeds to say, " was 
 fulfilled the saying of Solomon — ' The locusts have no 
 king, yet go they forth all of them by bands.' These 
 locusts had not soared on deeds of goodness so long as 
 they remained. stiffened and frozen in their iniquity, 
 but no sooner were they warmed by the rays of the sun 
 of justice, than they rose and took their flight." 
 
 3. " They had no king. Each behoving soul chose 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 347 
 
 God alone for his guide, his chief, his companion m 
 arms. Though the French alone had heard the preach- 
 ing of the crusade, what Christian people did not sup- 
 ply soldiers as well ? You might have seen the Scotch 
 covered with a shaggy cloak, hasten from the heart of 
 their marshes. I take God to witness, that there 
 landed in our ports barbarians from nations I wist not 
 of : no one understood their tongue, but placing their 
 fingers in the form of a cross, they made a sign that 
 they desired to proceed to the defense of the Christian 
 faith. 
 
 4. There were some who at first had no desire to 
 Bet out, and who laughed at those who parted with 
 their property, foretelling them a miserable voyage and 
 a more miserable return. The next day these very 
 mockers, by some sudden impulse, gave all they had 
 for money, and set out with those whom they had just 
 laughed at. "Who can name the children and aged 
 women who prepared for war ; who count the virgins 
 and old men trembling under the weight of years? 
 You would have smiled to see the poor shoeing their 
 oxen like horses, dragging their slender stock of pro- 
 visions and their little children in carts ; and these little 
 ones at each town or castle they came to ask in theii 
 simplicity, " Is not that the Jerusalem that we are going 
 to?' " Peter the Hermit marched at their head, bare- 
 footed, and girt with a chord ? Others followed a bravQ 
 and poor kniglit whom thej^ called Walter the Penniless. 
 
348 THE FIFTH READEK. 
 
 Among so many thousands of men tliere were not eight 
 horses. Some Germans followed the example of the 
 French, and set out under the guidance of a countryman 
 of their own, named Gotteschalk. The whole descended 
 the valley of the Danube — the route followed by Attila, 
 the highway of mankind. 
 
 5. No king took part in the crusade, but many lords 
 more powerful than kings. Hugh of Yermandois 
 (-dwah), brother of the king of France, and son-in-law 
 of the king of England, wealthy Stephen of Blois 
 (bhvah) ; Robert Curt-Hoso, William the Conqueror's 
 son, and the count of Flanders, set out at the same 
 time — all equal, none chief. They did but little honor 
 to the crusade. The fat Robert, the man of all others 
 who lost a kingdom with the best grace, only went to 
 Jerusalem through idleness: Hugh and Stephen re- 
 turned without reaching it. 
 
 6. The voice of the people, which is that of God, has 
 ascribed all the glory of the crusade to Godfrey, son of 
 the Count of Boulogne fhoo-lone), margrave of 
 Antwerp, duke of Bouillon and of Lothier, and king of 
 
 Jerusalem While yet a child, he had often 
 
 said that he would go with an army to Jerusalem ; and 
 as soon as the crusade was proclaimed he sold his 
 lands to the Bishop of Liege, and set out for the Holy 
 Land, at the head of an army of ten thousand horse- 
 men and seventy thousand foot, French, I^orr£|,ins, and 
 Germans. . . . 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 349 
 
 7. The crusaders [wlio, in the first transports of 
 enthusiasm into which they had been thrown at the 
 sight of the holy city, had felt assured of taking it by 
 assault, were repulsed by the besieged. They found 
 themselves compelled to resort to the slow process of 
 a siege, and to sit down before the city in this desolate 
 region, alike destitute of trees and of water. It 
 seemed as if the demon had blasted everytning with 
 his breath, at the approach of the army of Christ. 
 
 8. Sorceresses appeared on the walls, who hurled 
 fatal words at 'the besiegers, but it was not by- words 
 *hat they were answered ; and one of them, in the 
 midst of her conjurations, was struck by a stone 
 launched from the machines of the Christians, which 
 had been made under the direction of the viscount of 
 Beam, from the trees of the only wood which the 
 neighborhood furnished, and which, by his orders, had 
 been cut down by the Genoese and Gascons. Two 
 movable towers were built, one for the count of St. 
 Gille, and the other for the duke of Lorraine. 
 
 9. Daily for eight days, and barefooted, the crusad- 
 ers had walked in procession round Jerusalem ; which 
 don^, a general assault was made by the whole army, 
 Godfrey's tower rolled to the walls, and on Friday, the 
 15th of July, 1099, at three o'clock, on the very day, 
 and at the very hour of the Passion, Godfrey of 
 Bouillon descended from his tower on the walls of 
 Jerusalem. The city was taken and the crusaders 
 
350 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 repaired, with tears and groans and beatings of the 
 breast, to worship at the holy tomb. The next 
 question was, who was to be king of the conquest, — - 
 who was to have the melancholy honor of defending 
 
 Jerusalem Godfrey resigned himself to the 
 
 burden, but would not assume the kingly crown in a 
 spot where the Saviour had worn one of thorns. The 
 only title he would accept was that of defender and 
 baron of the holy sepulcher. . . . 
 
 10. And what is the effect of the crusade on the 
 Christians as regards each other ? Humanity, charity, 
 and equahty have been the lessons taught by this 
 fellowship in extremity of peril and of misery. Chris- 
 tendom, momentarily collected under the same banner, 
 has felt a sort of European patriotism. Whatever the 
 temporal views mixed up with their enterprise, the 
 greater number have tasted the sweets of virtue, and 
 at least dreamed of holiness ; have striven to rise 
 above themselves, and have become Christians, at 
 least in hate of the infidels. 
 
 11. The day on which, without distinction of free- 
 men and of serfs, the powerful among them called their 
 followers. Our Poor, — that day was the era of freedom. 
 Man having been for a moment drawn out of local 
 servitude, and led in full blaze of day through Europe 
 and Asia by the great movement of the crusade, en- 
 countered liberty while he sought Jerusalem. The 
 liberating trumpet of the archangel, which the wojld 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 351 
 
 t V .rcied it had heard in the year 1000, was sounded a 
 century later by the preaching of the crusade. 
 
 12. At the foot of the feudal tower, which oppressed 
 it by its darkening shadow, awoke the village ; and 
 that ruthless man who had only stooped down from his 
 vulture's nest to despoil his vassals, armed them him- 
 self, led them with him, lived with them, suffered with 
 them : community of suffering touched his heart. 
 More than one serf could say to his superior, " My 
 lord, I found a cup of water for you in the desert — I 
 shielded you with my body at the siege of Antiooh or 
 of Jerusalem." 
 
 LXVI.— PETER THE HERMIT. 
 
 MICHAUD. 
 
 1. Peter the Hermit traversed Italy, crossed the 
 yps, visited all parts of France, and the greatest por- 
 tion of Europe, inflaming all hearts with the same zeal 
 that consumed his own. He traveled mounted on a 
 mule, with a crucifix in his hand, his feet bare, his 
 head uncovered, his body girded with a thick cord, 
 covered with a long frock, and a hermit's hood of the 
 coarsest stuff. The singularity of his appearance was 
 a spectacle for the people, while the austerity of his 
 manners, his charity, and the moral doctrines that he 
 preached, caused him to be revered as a saint where- 
 ever he came. 
 
352 THE FIFTH KEADEB. 
 
 2. He went from city to city, from province to pro 
 vince, working upon the courage of some, and upon the 
 piety of others ; sometimes haranguing from the pul- 
 pits of the churches, sometimes preaching in the high- 
 roads or pliblic places. His eloquence was animated 
 and impressive, and filled with those vehement apos- 
 trophes which produce such effects upon an unculti- 
 vated multitude. He described the profanation of the 
 holy places, and the blood of the Christians shed in 
 torrents in the streets of Jerusalem. 
 
 3. He invoked by turns. Heaven, the saints, the 
 angels, whom he called upon to bear witness to the 
 truth of what he told them. He apostrophized Mount 
 Sion, the rock of Calvary, and the Mount of Olives, 
 which he made to resound with sobs and groans. 
 When he had exhausted speech in painting the" 
 miseries of the faithful, he showed the spectators the 
 crucifix which he carried with him ; sometimes striking 
 his breast and wounding his flesh, sometimes shedding 
 torrents of tears. 
 
 4. The people followed the steps of Peter in crowds. 
 The preacher of the holy war was received everywhere 
 AS a messenger from God. They who could touch his 
 vestments esteemed themselves happy, and a portion 
 of hair p"ulled from the mule he rode was preserved as 
 a holy relic. At the sound of his voice, differences in 
 families were reconciled, the poor were comforted, the 
 debauched blushed at their errors ; nothing was talked 
 
> 
 
 THE FIFTH KE.VDER 353 
 
 of but tlie Tirtues of tlie eloquent cenobite ; his aus- 
 terities and his miracles were described, and his dis- 
 courses were repeated to those who had not heard 
 him, and been edified by his presence. 
 
 5. He often met, in his journeys, with Christians 
 from the East, who had been banished from their 
 country, and wandered over Europe, subsisting on 
 charity. Peter the Hermit presented them to the 
 people, as living evidences of the barbarity of the 
 infidels ; and pointing to the rags with which they 
 were clothed, he burst into torrents of invectives 
 against their oppressors and persecutors. 
 
 6f At the sight of these miserable wretches, the 
 faithful felt, by turns, the most lively emotions of pity, 
 and the fury of vengeance ; all deploring in their 
 hearts the miseries and the disgrace of Jerusalem. 
 The people raised their voices toward heaven, to 
 entreat God to deign to cast a look of pity upon his 
 beloved city ; some offering their riches, others their 
 prayers, but all promising to lay down their lives for 
 the deUverance of the holy places. 
 
 LXVn.— THE BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN, 1800. 
 
 THOMAS CAMPBELL. 
 
 1. On Linden when the sun was low. 
 All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
 And dark as winter was the flow 
 Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 
 
354 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 2. But Linden saw another sight, 
 When the drum beat at dead of night, 
 Commanding fires of death to light 
 
 The darkness of her scenery. 
 
 3. By torch and trumpet fast arrayed. 
 Each warrior drew his battle-blade, 
 And furious every charger neighed, 
 
 To join the dreadful revelry. 
 
 4u Then shook the hills with thunder riven. 
 Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, 
 And louder than the bolts of heaven 
 Far flashed the red artillery. 
 
 5. And redder yet those fires shall glow 
 On Linden's hills of blood-stained snow ; 
 And darker yet shall be the flow 
 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly. 
 
 6. 'Tis morn ; but scarce yon lurid sun 
 Can pierce the war-clouds, rolUng dun, 
 While furious Frank and fiery Hun 
 
 Shout in their sulphurous canopy. 
 
 , 7. The combat deepens. On, ye brave 
 Who rush to glory, or the grave ! 
 Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 
 And charge with all thy chivalry 1 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 355 
 
 T 
 
 8. All ! few shall part where many meet, 
 The snow shall be their winding-sheet, 
 And every turf beneath their feet 
 Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 
 
 LXVin.— SONG OF THE GKEEKS, 1822. 
 
 THOMAS CAMPBELL. 
 
 1. Again to the battle, Achaians ! 
 Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance ; 
 
 Our land — the first garden of Liberty's tree — 
 It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free, 
 
 For the cross of our faith is replanted, 
 
 The pale dying crescent is daunted, 
 And we march that the foot-prints of Mahomet's slaves 
 May be washed out in blood from our forefather'^ 
 graves. 
 
 Their spirits are hovering o'er us. 
 
 And the sword shall to glory restore us. 
 
 2. Ah ! what though no succor advances, 
 Nor Christendom's chivalrous lances 
 
 Are stretched in our aid ? — Be the combat our own I 
 And we'll perish or conquer more proudly alone ; 
 For we've sworn by our country's assaulters, 
 By the virgins they've dragged from our altprs, 
 
356 THE FIFTH REAl^R. 
 
 By our massacred patriots, our children in chains, 
 By our heroes of old, and their blood in our veins, 
 That, living, we will be victorious, 
 Or that, dying, our deaths shall be glorious. 
 
 3. A breath of submission we breathe not, 
 
 The sword that we've drawn we will sheathe not ; 
 Its scabbard is left where our martyrs are laid. 
 And the vengeance of ages has whetted its blade. 
 
 Earth may hide, waves engulf, fire consume us ; 
 
 But they shall not to slavery doom us : 
 If they rule, it shall be o'er our ashes and graves — 
 But we've smote them already with fire on the toaves, 
 
 And new triumphs on land are before us ; 
 
 To the charge !— ^Eeaven's banner is o'er us. 
 
 4. This day — shall ye blush for its story ? 
 Or brighten your lives with its glory ? 
 
 Our women — O, say, shall they shriek in despair. 
 Or embrace us from conquest, with wreaths in their 
 hair ? 
 Accursed may his memory blacken. 
 If a coward there be that would slacken 
 Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves 
 
 worth 
 Being sprung from, and named for, the god-like of 
 earth ! 
 Strike home ! — and the world shall revere us 
 A.S heroes descended from heroes. 
 
TECE FEPTH READER. 357 
 
 5. Old Greece lightens up with, emotion 
 Her inlands, her isles of the ocean, 
 
 Fanes rebuilt, and fair towns, shall with jubilee ring, 
 
 -And the Nine shall new hallow their Helicon's spring. 
 Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness, 
 That were cold, and extinguished in sadness ; 
 
 \Miilst our maidens shall dance with their white 
 waving arms, 
 
 Singing joj to the brave that delivered their charms, — 
 When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens 
 Shall have crimsoned the beaks of our ravens I 
 
 LXIX.— FALL OF WARSAW 
 
 THOMAS CAMBEIili. 
 
 1. O ! sacred Truth ! thy triumph ceased a while, 
 And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile. 
 When leagued Oppression poured to Northern wars 
 Her whiskered pandoors^ and her fierce hussars 
 Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, 
 Pealed her loud drum, and twanged^ her trumpet 
 
 horn ; 
 Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van. 
 Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man ! 
 
 2. Warsaw's last champion from her hights sur- 
 
 veyed 
 Wide o'er the fields a waste of ruin laid — 
 O Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save ! 
 Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? 
 
358 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 Yet, tliougli destruction sweep these lovely plains, 
 Rise, fellow-men ! our cguntrj yet remains I 
 By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 
 And swear for her to live ! — with her to die ! 
 
 3. He said ; and on the rampart hights arrayed 
 His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
 Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
 Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm : 
 Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, — 
 " Revenge, or death !" the watchword and reply ; 
 Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
 And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm I 
 
 4 In vain, alas ! in vain, ye gallant few ! 
 From rank to rank your volleyed thunder flew ; — 
 O ! bloodiest picture in the book of Time, 
 Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; 
 Found not a generous friend, a piij'ing foe, 
 Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe I 
 Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear, 
 Closed her bright eye, and curbed hsi high career ; 
 Hope for a season bade the world farewell, 
 And Freedom shrieked, as Kosciusko Ml ? 
 
 O righteous Heaven ! ere Freedom found a gr^^o^ 
 Why slept the sword, omnipotent to save ? 
 Where was thine arm, O vengeance ! where thy rod. 
 That smote the foes of Sion and of God ? 
 
 5. Departed spirits of the mighty dead ! 
 Ye that at Marathon and Lt-iictra bled I 
 
THE FIFTH KEADER. 35S 
 
 Fiiends of tlie world ! restore your swords to man. 
 
 Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van ! 
 
 Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, 
 
 And make her arm puissant as your own ! 
 
 O ! once again to Freedom's cause return 
 
 The patript Tell, — the Bruce of Bannockburn ! 
 
 6. Yes, thy proud lords, unpitied land ! shall seo 
 
 That man hath yet a soul, — and dare be free ! 
 
 A httle while, along thy saddening plains, 
 
 The starless night of Desolation reigns ; 
 
 Truth shall restore the light by Nature given, 
 
 And, like Promethus, bring the fire of Heaven I 
 
 Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurled. 
 
 Her name, her nature, withered from the world ! 
 
 • Pan'-doobs, a name given to a | 2 Twang'-ed, sounded with 
 kind of light infantry soldiers | quick, sharp, noise. 
 in the Austrian service. 
 
 LXX.— ST. PETEB'S. 
 
 EUSTACE. 
 
 1. From the bridge and Castle de St. Angelo, a wide 
 street conducts in a direct line to a square, and that 
 square presents at once the court or portico, and part 
 of the Basilica. When the spectator approaches the 
 entrance of this court, he views four rows of lofty 
 pillars sweeping off to the right and left in a bold semi- 
 circle. 
 
 2. In the center of the area formed by tliis immense 
 
fJGO THE FIFTH READEB. 
 
 colonnade, an Egyptian obelisk, of one solid piece o 
 granito, ascends to the liight of one hundred and tliiity 
 feet ; two perpetual fountains, one on each side, play 
 in the air, and fall in sheets round the basins of por- 
 phyry that receive them. 
 
 3. Before him, raised on three successive flights ol 
 marble steps, extending four hundred feet in length, and 
 towering to the elevation of one hundred and eighty, 
 he beholds the majestic front of the Basilica itself. 
 This front is supported by a single row of Corinthian 
 pillars and pilasters, and adorned with an attic, a 
 balustrade, and thirteen colossal statues. 
 
 4. Far behind and above it, rises the matchless 
 Dome, the justly celebrated wonder of Rome and of 
 the world. The colonnade of coupled pillars that 
 surround and strengthen its vast base, the graceful 
 attic that surmounts this colonnade, the bold and ex- 
 pansive swell of the dome itself, and the pyramid 
 seated on a cluster of columns, and bearing the ball 
 and cross to the skies, all perfect in their kind, form 
 the most magnificent and singular exhibition that the 
 human eye perhaps ever contemplated. Two lesser 
 cupolas, one on each side, partake of the state, and add 
 not a little to the majesty of the principal dome. 
 
 5. The interior corresponds perfectly with the 
 grandeur of the exterior, and fully answers the expec-^ 
 tations, however great, which such an approach must 
 naturally have raised. Five lofty portals open into 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 8G1 
 
 tl e portico or vestibulum, a gallery in dimensions and 
 decorations equal to the most spacious cathedrals. 
 
 6. It is four hundred feet in length, seventy in hight, 
 and fifty in breadth, paved with variegated marble, 
 covered with a gilt vault, adorned with pillars, pilasters 
 mosaic, and basso-relievos, and terminated at both ends 
 by equestrian statues, one of Constantine, the other of 
 Charlemagne. 
 
 7. A fountain at each extremity suppHes a stream 
 sufficient to keep a reservoir always full, in order to 
 carry off every unseemly object, and perpetually re« 
 fresh and purify the air and the pavement. Opposite 
 the five portals of the vestibule are the five doors of 
 the church ; three 5-re adorned with pillars of the fines^ 
 marble ; that in the middle has valves of bronze. 
 
 8. As you enter, you behold the most extensive hall 
 ever constructed by human art, expanded in magni- 
 ficent perspective before you : advancing up the nave, 
 you are delighted with the beauty of the variegated 
 marble under your feet, and with the splendor of. the 
 golden vault over your head. The lofty Corinthian 
 pilasters with their bold entablature, the intermediate 
 niches with their statues, the arcades with the grace- 
 ful figures that recline on the curves of their arches, 
 charm your eye in succession as you pass along. 
 
 9. But how great your astonishment when you reach 
 the foot of the altar, and standing in the center of the 
 church contemplate the four superb vistas that' open 
 
362 THE FIFTH BEADER. 
 
 around you ; and tlien raise your eyes to the dome, al 
 the prodigious elevation of four hundred feet, extended 
 like a firmament over your nead, and presenting, in 
 glowing mosaic, the companies of the just, the choirs 
 of celestial spirits, and the whole hierarchy of heaven 
 arrayed in the presence of the Eternal, whose " throne, 
 high raised above all hight," crowns the awful scene. 
 
 10. When you have feasted your eye with the 
 grandeur of this unparalleled exhibition in the whole, 
 you will turn to the parts, the ornaments, and the 
 furniture, which you will find perfectly correspond- 
 ing with the magnificent form of the temple itself.* 
 Around the dome rise four other cupolas, small indeed 
 when compared to its stupendous. magnitude, but of 
 great boldness when considered separately ; six more, 
 three on either side, cover the different divisions of the 
 aisles, and six more of greater dimensions canopy as 
 many chapels, or, to speak more properly, as many 
 churches. 
 
 IJ^ All these inferior cupolas are like the grand 
 dome itself, lined with mosaics ; many, indeed, of the 
 master-pieces of painting which formerly graced this 
 edifice, have been removed and replaced by mosaics 
 which retain all the tints and beauties of the originals, 
 impressed on a more solid and durable substance. 
 The aisles and altars are adorned with numberl^s 
 antique pillars, that border the church all around, and 
 form a secondary and subservient order. 
 
THE FIFTH liEADEE. 3G3 
 
 12. The variegated walls are, in many places, 
 ornamented with festoons, wreatlis, angels, tiaras, 
 crosses, and medallions representing the effigies of 
 different pontiffs. These decorations are oi the most 
 beautiful and rarest species of marble, and often of 
 excellent workmanship. Various monuments rise in 
 different parts of the church ; but, in their size and 
 accompaniments, so much attention has been paid to 
 general as well as local effect, that they appear rathei 
 as parts of the original plan, than posterior additions. 
 Some of these are much admired for their groups and 
 exquisite sculpture, and form very conspicuous features 
 in the ornamental part of this noble temple. 
 
 13. The high altar stands under the dome, and thus 
 as it is the most important, so it becomes the most 
 striking object. In order to add to its relief and give 
 it all its majesty, according to the ancient custom still 
 retained in the patriarchal churches at Eome, and in 
 most of the cathedrals in Italy, a lofty canopy rises 
 above it, and forms an intermediate break or repose 
 for the eye between it and the immensity of the dome 
 above. 
 
 14. The form, materials, and magnitude of this dec- 
 oration are equally astonishing. Below the steps of 
 the altar, and of course some distance from it, at the 
 corners, on four masive pedestals, rise four twisted 
 pillars fifty feet in hight, and support an entablature 
 which bears the canopy itself topped with a cross. 
 
S64 THE FIFTH RF.ADER. 
 
 The whole soars to the elevation of one hundred and 
 thirtj-two feet from the pavement, and, excepting the 
 pedestals, is of Corinthian brass ; the most lofty mas- 
 sive work of that, or of any other metal, now known. 
 
 15. But this brazen edifice, for so it may be called, 
 notwithstanding its magnitude, is so disposed as not 
 to obstruct the view by concealing the chancel and 
 veiling the Cathedra or Chair of St. Peter. This 
 ornament is also of bronze, and consists of a group of 
 four gigantic figures, representing the four principal 
 Doctors of the Greek and Latin churches, supporting 
 the patriarchal chair of St. Peter. The chair is a lofty 
 throne, elevated to the hight of seventy feet from 
 the pavement; a circular window tinged with yellow 
 throws from above a mild splendor around it, so that 
 the whole not unfitly represents the pre-eminence of 
 the Apostolic See, and is acknowledged to form a most 
 becoming and majestic termination to the first of 
 Christian temples. 
 
 LXXL— ST. PETER'S CHUECH AT ROME. 
 
 1. But lo ! the dome ! — the vast and wondrous dome> 
 To which Diana's marvel was a cell — 
 Christ's mighty shrine, above his martyrs' tomb I 
 I have beheld the Ephesian miracle — 
 Its columns strew the wilderness, and dwell 
 
THE FIFTH READEB, 365 
 
 The hjsena and jackal iu their shade ; 
 I have beheld Sophia's bright roofs swell 
 Their glittering mass i' the sun, and have surveyed 
 Its sanctuary, the while th' usurping Moslem prayed. 
 
 2. But thou, of temples old, or altars new, 
 Standest alone, with nothing like to thee ; 
 "Worthiest of God, the holy and the true, 
 Since Sion's desolation, when that He 
 Forsook his former city, what could be 
 Of earthly structures, in his honor piled, 
 Of a sublimer aspect ? Majesty, 
 
 Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled 
 In this eternal ark of worship undefiled. 
 
 3. Enter : its grandeur overwhelms thee not : 
 And why ? It is not lessened ; but the mind, 
 Expanded by the genius of the spot. 
 
 Has grown colossal, and can only find 
 A fit abode, wherein appear enshrined 
 Thy hopes of immortality ; and thou 
 Shalt one day, if found worthy, so defined, 
 See thy God face to face, as thou dost now 
 His Holy of Hohes, nor be blasted by his brow. 
 
 4. Thou movest, but increasing with the advance, 
 Like cUmbing some great Alp, which still doth rise, 
 Dectuved by his gigantic elegance : 
 
 Vastness which grows— but grows to harmonize — 
 
3G6 THE FIFT? BEADER. 
 
 All musical in its immensities ; 
 
 Kicli marbles — richer painting — shrines where flame 
 The lamps of gold — and haughty dome, which vies 
 In air, with earth's chief structures, though their 
 
 frame 
 Sits on the firm-set ground and this the clouds must 
 
 claim. 
 
 6. Thou seest not all ; but piecemeal thou must break 
 To separate contemplation, the great whole : 
 And, as the ocean many bays will make, 
 That ask the eye — so here condense thy soul 
 To more immediate objects, and control 
 Thy thoughts, until thy mind hath got by heart, 
 Its eloquent proportions, and unroll 
 In mighty graduations, part by part, 
 
 The glory which at once upon thee did not dart. 
 
 6. Not by its fault — ^but thine : our outward sense 
 Is but of gradual grasp — and, as it is, 
 That what we have of feeling most intense 
 Outstrips our faint expression ; even so this 
 Outshining and o'erwhelming edifice 
 Fools ^ur fond gaze, and, greatest of the great, 
 Defies, at first, our nature's Httleness ; 
 Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate 
 
 Our spirits to the size of that they contemplate. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 367 
 
 7. Then pause, and be enlightened ; there is more 
 In such a survey than the sating gaze 
 Of wonder pleased, or awe, which would adore 
 The worship of the place, or the mere praise 
 Of art, and its great niasters, who could raise 
 What former time, nor skill, nor thought could plan. 
 The fountain of sublimity displays 
 Its depth, and thence may draw the mind of man 
 
 Its golden sands, and learn what great conceptions 
 can. 
 
 LXXIL— THE PYEAMTDS. 
 
 CliAEKE. 
 
 1. We were roused, as soon as the « sun dawned, b> 
 Anthony, our faichfuL Greek servant and interpreter, 
 with the intelligence that the pyramids were in view. 
 We hastened from the cabin ; and never will the im- 
 pression made by their appearance be obliterated. By 
 reflecting the sun's rays, they appear as white as snow, 
 and of such surprising magnitude, that nothing we 
 had previously conceived in our imagination had 
 prepared us for the spectacle we beheld. 
 
 2. The sight instantly convinced us, that no power 
 of description, no delineation, can convey ideas 
 adequate to the effect produced in viewing these 
 stupendous mountains. The formality of their con- 
 struction is lost in their prodigious magnitude ; the 
 mind, elevated by wonder, feels at once the force of an 
 
368 THE FIFTH READER, 
 
 • 
 
 axiom, which, however disputed, experience confirms, 
 that in vastness, whatever be its nature, there dwells 
 sublimity. Another proof of their indescribable power 
 is, that no one ever approached them .under other 
 emotions than those of terror, which is another princi 
 pal source of the sublime. 
 
 3. In certain instances of irritable feeling, tho 
 impression of awe and fear has been so great as to 
 cause pain rather than pleasure ; hence, perhaps, have 
 originated descriptions of the pyramids which repre- 
 sent them as deformed and gloomy masses, without 
 taste or beauty. Persons who have derived no satis- 
 faction from the contemplation of them, may not have 
 been conscious that the uneasiness they experienced 
 was the result of their own sensibility. Others have 
 acknowledged ideas widely different, excited by every 
 wonderful circumstance of character and situation; 
 ideas of duration, almost endless ; of power incon- 
 ceivable; of majesty supreme; of solitude, most 
 awful ; of grandeur, and of repose. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 4. With what amazement did we survey the vast 
 surface that was presented to us when we arrived at 
 this stupendous monument, which seemed to reach 
 the clouds? Here and there appeared some Arab 
 guides upon the immense masses above us, like so 
 many pigmies, waiting to show the way to the summit. 
 Now and then we thought we heard voices, mv} 
 
THE FIFTH KEADER. 369 
 
 listened; but it was the wind in powerful gusts sweep- 
 ing the immense ranges of stone. 
 
 5. Already some of our party had begun the ascent, 
 and were pausing at the tremendous depth which they 
 saw below. One of our military companions, after 
 having surmounted the most difficult part of the 
 undertaking, became giddy in consequence of looking 
 down from the elevation he had attained : and being 
 compelled to abandon the project, he hired an Arab to 
 assist him in effecting his descent. The rest of ua, 
 more accustomed to the business of climbing hights, 
 with many a halt for respiration, and many an ex- 
 clamation of wonder, pursued our way toward the 
 summit. The mode of ascent has been frequently 
 described ; and yet, from the questions which are often 
 proposed to travelers, it does not appear to be gener- 
 ally understood. . 
 
 6. The reader may imagine himself to be upon a 
 staircase, every step of which, to a man of middle 
 stature, is nearly breast high ; and the breadth of each 
 step is equal to its hight ; consequently, the footing is 
 secure ; and, although a retrospect, in going up, be 
 sometimes fearful to persons unaccustomed to look 
 down from any considerable elevation, yet there is little 
 danger of falling. In some places, indeed, where the 
 stones are decayed, caution may be required ; and an 
 Arab guide is always necessary, to avoid a total in 
 
370 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 teiTuption; but, upon the whole, the means of ascent 
 ire such that almost every one may accompHsh it. 
 
 7. Our progress was impeded by other causes. AVe 
 carried with us a few instruments, such as our boat- 
 compass, a thermometer, a telescope, etc. ; these could 
 not be trusted in the hands of the Arabs, and they 
 were liable to be broken every instant. At length we 
 reached the topmost tier, to the great delight and 
 satisfaction of all the party. Here we found a plat- 
 form, thirty-two feet square, consisting of nine large 
 stones, each of which might weigh about a ton ; al- 
 though they are much inferior in size to some of the 
 stones used in the construction of this pyramid. 
 
 8. Travelers of all ages, and various nations, have 
 here inscribed their names. Some are written in 
 Greek, many in French, a few in Arabic, one or two 
 in English, and others in Latin. We were as desirous 
 as our predecessors to leave a memorial of our arrival ; 
 it seemed to be a tribute of thankfulness due for the 
 success of our undertaking ; and presently every one 
 of our party was seen busied in aclding the inscription 
 of his name. 
 
 LXXni.— THE FOREST. 
 
 BBYANT. 
 
 h Father Thy hand 
 
 Hath reared these venerable columns ; Thou 
 Didst weave this verdant roof ; Thou didst look down 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 371 
 
 Upon the naked earth, and forthwith rose 
 All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun 
 Budded, and shook their green leaves in Thy breeze. 
 And shot toward heaven. 
 
 2. The century-living crow. 
 
 Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died 
 Among their branches ; till, at last, they stood, 
 As now they stand, massy and tall and dark, 
 Fit shrine for humble worshiper to hold 
 Communion with his Maker. These dim vaults. 
 These winding aisles of human pomp or pride, 
 Report not. 
 
 ^. No fantastic carvings show 
 
 The boast of our vain race to change the form 
 Of Thy fair works ; but Thou art here : Thou fiU'st 
 The solitude : Thou art in the soft winds 
 That run along the summit of these trees 
 In music : Thou art in the cooler breath 
 That from the inmost darkness of the place. 
 Comes scarcely felt : the barks, the ground. 
 The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with Thee 
 
 4. Here is continual worship ; nature, here. 
 In the tranquillity that Thou dost love. 
 Enjoys Thy presence. Noiselessly, around. 
 From perch to perch, the solitary bird 
 Passes ; and yon clear spring, that, midst its herbs, 
 
372 THE FIFTH KEADER. 
 
 Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots 
 Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale 
 Of all the good it does. 
 
 5. Thou hast not left 
 Thyself without a witness, in these shades, 
 
 Of Thy perfections ; grandeur, strength and grace 
 
 Are here to speak of Thee. This mighty oak, 
 
 By whose immovable stem I stand and seem 
 
 Almost annihilated, — not a prince. 
 
 In aU that proud old world beyond the deep, 
 
 E'er wore his crown as loftily as he 
 
 Wears the green coronal of leaves with which 
 
 Thy hand has graced him. 
 
 6. Nestled at his root 
 Is beauty, such as blooms not in the glare 
 Of the broad sun. That delicate flower. 
 With scented breath, and look so like a smile. 
 Seems as it issues from the shapeless mold, 
 An emanation of the indwelling Life, 
 
 A visible token of the upholding Love, 
 That are the soul of this wide universe. 
 
 7. My heart is awed within me, when I think 
 Of the great miracle that still goes on. 
 
 In silence, round me : the perpetual wor]? 
 Of Thy creation, finished, yet renewed 
 For ever. 
 
THE FIFTH EEADER. 373 
 
 LXXrV.— CATHOLIC MISSIONS IN THE NORTHWEST. 
 
 BANCBOirr. 
 
 George Bancroft was bom at Worcester, Massachusetts, October 3, 
 1800. His History of the United Sates, of which nine volumes have 
 ul ready appeared, is recognized as a work of great fairness, ability 
 and research. 
 
 1. Keligious zeal not less than commercial ambition 
 had influenced France to recover Canada ; and Cham- 
 plain, its governor, whose imperishable name will rival 
 with posterity the fame of Smith and Hudson, ever 
 disinterested and compassionate, full of honor and 
 probity, of ardent devotion and burning zeal, esteemed 
 " the salvation of a soul worth more than the conquest 
 of an empire." 
 
 2. Thus it was neither commercial enterprise nor 
 royal ambition which carried the power of France into 
 the heart of our Continent ; the motive was religion. 
 Religious enthusiasm founded Montreal, made a con- 
 quest of the wilderness of the upper lakes, and ex- 
 plored the Mississippi. The Roman (Catholic) Church 
 created for Canada its altars, its hospitals, and its 
 seminaries. . . . The first permanent efforts of French 
 enterprise in colonizing America preceded any per- 
 manent EngUsh settlement on the Potomac. 
 
 8. Years before the pilgrims landed in Cape Cod, 
 the Roman f Catholic) Church had been planted, by 
 missionaries from France, in the eastern moiety of 
 Maine; and Le Caron, an unambitious Franciscan, 
 had penetrated tho land of the Mohawks, had passed 
 
374 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 to the north of the hunting-grounds of the "Wyandota, 
 and bound by his vows to the life of a beggar, had, on 
 foot, or paddling a bark canoe, gone onward, and still 
 ouward, taking alms of the savages, till he reached the 
 rivers of Lake Huron. 
 
 4. While Quebec contained scarcely fifty inhabitants 
 priests of the Franciscan Order- -Le Caron, Fiel, 
 Lagard — ^had labored for years as missionaries in 
 Upper Canada, or made their way to the neutral 
 Huron tribe that dwelt on the waters of the Niagara. 
 
 5. To confirm the missions, the first measure was 
 the estabhshment of a college in New France, and the 
 parents of the Marquis de Gamache, pleased with his 
 pious importunity, assented to his entering the Order 
 of the Jesuits, and added from their ample fortunes 
 the means of endowing a Seminary for education at 
 Quebec. Its foundation was laid, under happy aus- 
 pices, in 1635, just before Champlain passed from 
 among the living ; and two years before the emigra- 
 tion of John Harvard, and one year before the General 
 Court of Massach'isetts had made provisions for a 
 College. 
 
 6. The fires of charity were at the same time en- 
 kindled. The Duchess D'Aguillon, aided by her uncle, 
 the Cardinal Richeheu, endowed a public hospital 
 dedicated to the Son of God, whose blood was shed in 
 mercy for all mankind. Its doors were opened, not 
 oiily to the sufferers among the emigrants, but to the 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 375 
 
 maimecl, the sick, and the blmcl, of any of the nu- 
 merous tribes between the Kennebec and Lake Su- 
 perior ; it relieved misfortune without asking its 
 lineage. From the hospital nuns of Dieppe, three were 
 selected, the youngest but twenty-two, to brave the 
 famine and rigors of Canada in their patient mission of 
 benevolence. 
 
 7. The same religious enthusiasm, inspiring Ma- 
 dame de la Peltier, a young and opulent widow pf 
 A.len9on, with the aid of a nun of Dieppe and two 
 others from Tours, established the Ursuline Convent 
 
 for girls Is it wonderful that the natives were 
 
 touched by a benevolence which their poverty and 
 squalid misery could not appall? Their education 
 was attempted ; and the venerable ash-tree still lives 
 beneath which Mary of the Incarnation, so famed for 
 chastened piety, genius, and good judgment toiled, 
 though in vain, for the education of the Huron 
 children. 
 
 8. The life of the missionary on Lake Huron was 
 simple and uniform. The earliest hours, from four to 
 eight, were absorbed in private prayer. The day was 
 given to schools, visits, instructions in the catecliism, 
 and a service for proselytes. Sometimes, after the 
 manner of St. Francis Xavier, Brebeuf would walk 
 through the village and its environs ringing a little 
 bell, and inviting the Huron braves and counsellers to 
 a conference. There, under the shady forest, the most 
 
376 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 solemn mysteries of the Catholic faith were subject to 
 discussion. 
 
 9. Yet the efforts of the Jesuits were not limited to 
 the Huron race. Within thirteen years, the remote 
 wilderness was visited by forty-two missionaries, mem- 
 bers of the Society of Jesus, besides eighteen others, 
 who, if not initiated, were yet chosen men, ready to 
 shed their blood for their faith. Twice or thrice a 
 ye&T they all assembled at St. Mary's ; during the rest 
 of the time they were scattered through the infidel 
 tribes. 
 
 10. The first missionaries among the Hurons— 
 Fathers De Brebeuf, Daniel, and Lallemand — all fell 
 
 glorious martyrs to their devoted zeal Father 
 
 Keymbault soon after fell a victim to the climate, and 
 died in Quebec (1642). His associate, Father Jogues, 
 who with him had first planted the cross in Michigan, 
 was reserved for a still more disastrous, though 
 glorious, fate. He was taken prisoner by the fierce 
 Mohawks, and was made to run the gauntlet at three 
 different Mohawk villages. 
 
 11. For days and nights he was abandoned to 
 hunger and every torment which petulant youth could 
 contrive. But yet there was consolation ; — an ear of 
 Indian corn on the stalk was thrown to the good 
 Father ; and see, to the broad blade there clung little 
 drops of dew, or of water — enough to baptize two 
 taptive neophytes. He had expected death ; but tho 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 377 
 
 IIMohawks, satisfied, perhaps, with his sufferings, oi 
 awed at his sanctity, spared his hfe, and his libertv 
 was enlarged. 
 12. On a hill apart, he carved a long cross on a tree • 
 and there, in the solitude, meditated the Imitation of 
 Christ, and soothed his griefs by reflecting that he 
 alone, in that vast region, adored the true God of 
 earth and heaven. Eoaming through the stately 
 forests of the Mohawk valley, he wrote the name of 
 Jesus on the bark of trees, engraved the cross, and 
 entered into possession of these countries in the name 
 of God — often Hfting up his voice in a solitary chant. 
 Thus did France bring its banner and its faith to the 
 confines of Albany. The missionary himself was 
 humanely ransomed from captivity by the Dutch, and 
 saiHng for France, soon returned to Canada. 
 
 13. Similar was the fate of Father Bressani. Taken 
 prisoner while on his way to the Hurons; beaten, 
 mangled, mutilated ; driven barefoot over rough paths, 
 through briers and thickets; scourged by a whole 
 village ; burned, tdrtured, wounded, and scarred ; — he 
 was an eye-witness to the fate of one of his com- 
 panions, who was boiled and eaten. Yet some mys- 
 terious awe protected his life, and he, too, was hu- 
 manely rescued by the Dutch. 
 
378 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 LXXV. -CATHOLIC MISSIONS. —Continued. 
 
 1. In 1655, Fathers Chaumont and Dablon wer* 
 sent on a mission among the tribes of New York. 
 They were hospitably welcomed at Onondaga, the 
 principal village of that tribe. A general convention 
 was held at their desire ; and before the multitudinous 
 assembly of the chiefs and the whole people gathered 
 under the open sky, among the primeval forests, the 
 presents were delivered ; and the Italian Jesuit, with 
 much gesture after the Italian manner, discoursed so 
 eloquently to the crowd, that it seemed to Dablon as 
 if the word of God had been preached to all the 
 nations of that land. On the next day, the chiefs and 
 others crowded round the Jesuits with their songs of 
 welcome. 
 
 2. " Happy land," they sang, " happy land, in which 
 the Jesuits are to dwell !" and the chief led the chorus, 
 " Glad tidings ! glad tidings ! It is well that we have 
 spoken together : it is well that we have a heavenly 
 message." At once a chapel sprung into existence, 
 and by the zeal of the nation was finished in a 
 day. "For marble and precious stones," writes 
 Dablon, " we employed only bark ; but the path to 
 heaven is as open through a roof of bark as through 
 arched ceiliugs of silver and gold." The savages 
 showed themselves susceptible of the excitements of 
 religious ecstasy ; and there, in the heart of New York, 
 the solemn services of the Roman (Catholic) Church 
 
k 
 
 THE PTFTH READER. 379 
 
 were clia.i*«?a as securely as in any part of Christen 
 dom. 
 
 3. The Caj agas also desired a missionary, and they 
 received the fearless Eene Mesnard. In their village a 
 chapel was erected, with mats for the tapestry ; and 
 there the pictures of the Saviour and of the Virgin 
 Mother were unfolded to the admiring children of the 
 wilderness. The Oneidas also listened to the mis- 
 sionary ; and early in 1657, Chaumont reached the 
 most fertile and densely peopled lands of the Senecas. 
 
 The Jesuit priests published their faith from 
 
 the Mohawk to the Genesee The Missions 
 
 stretched westward along Lake Superior to the waters 
 of the Mississippi. Two young fur-traders, having 
 traveled to the West five hundred leagues, returned in 
 1656, attended by a number of savages from the Mis- 
 sissippi valley, who demanded missionaries for their 
 country. 
 
 4. Their request was eagerly granted ; and Gabriel 
 Dreuillettes, the same who carried the cross through 
 the forests of Maine, and Leonard Gareau, of old a 
 missionary among the Hurons, were selected as the 
 first religious envoys to a land of sacrifices, shadows, 
 and deaths. The canoes are launched; the tawny 
 warriors embark ; the oars flash, and words of triumph 
 and joy mingle with th^ir last adieus. But just below 
 Montreal, a band of M >hawks, enemies to the Ottawas. 
 
380 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 awaited the convoy : in the affray Gareau was mortally 
 wounded, and the fleet dispersed. 
 
 5. But the Jesuits were still fired with zeal to carry 
 
 the cross westward "If the Five Nations." 
 
 they said, " can penetrate these regions, to satiate their 
 passion for blood ; if mercantile enterprise can bring 
 furs from the plains of the Sioux; why cannot the 
 
 cross be borne to their cabins!" The zeal of 
 
 Francis de Laval, the Bishop of Quebec, kindled with 
 a desii-e himself to enter on the mission ; but the lot 
 fell to Bene Mesnard. He was charged to visit Green 
 Bay and Lake Superior, and on a convenient inlet to 
 estabhsh a residence as a common place of assembly 
 for the surrounding nations. 
 
 6. EQs departure was immediate (a. D. 1660), and 
 with few preparations ; for he trusted — such are his 
 words — " in the Providence which feeds the little birds 
 of the desert, and clothes the wild flowers of the 
 forests." Every personal motive seemed to retain him 
 in Quebec ; but powerful instincts impelled him to the 
 enterprise. Obedient to his vows, the aged man en- 
 tered on the path that was red with the blood of his 
 predecessors, and made haste to scatter the seeds of 
 truth through the wilderness, even though the sower 
 cast his seed in weeping. " In three of four months," 
 he wrote to a friend, " you may add me to the memento 
 of deaths." 
 
 7. His prediction was verified. Several montlid 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH HEADER. 381 
 
 after, while his attendant was employed in the labor 
 of transporting the canoe, he was lost in the forest, and 
 never seen more. Long afterward, his cassock and 
 
 breviary were kept as amulets among the Sioux 
 
 Similar was the death of the great Father Marquette, 
 the discoverer of the Mississippi. Joliet returned to 
 Quebec to announce the discovery The un- 
 aspiring Marquette remained to preach the gospel to 
 the Miamis, who dwelt in the north of Illinois around 
 Chicago. Two years afterwards (a. d. 1675), sailing 
 from Chicago to Mackinaw, he entered a little river in 
 Michigan 
 
 8. Erecting an altar, he said Mass after the rites of 
 the Cathohc Church ; then, begging the men who con- 
 ducted his canoe to leave him alone for a half hour, 
 
 "In the darkling wood, 
 Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down 
 And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks 
 And snpphcation." 
 
 At the end of half an hour they went to seek him, and 
 he was no more. The good missionary, discoverer of 
 a new world, had fallen asleep on the margin of the 
 stream which bears his name. Near its mouth the 
 canoe men dug his grave in the sand. Ever after, the 
 forest rangers, if in danger on Lake Michigan, would 
 invoke his name. The people of the West will build 
 his monument. 
 
382 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 LXXVL— THE HEKOES OF SEVENTY-SIX. 
 
 BBYANT. 
 
 1. What heroes from the woodland sprung, 
 
 When, through the fresh-awakened land, 
 The thrilling cry of freedom rung. 
 And to the work of warfare strung 
 
 The yeoman's iron hand ! 
 
 2. Hills flung the cry to hills around ; 
 
 And ocean-mart replied to mart ; 
 And streams, whose springs were yet unfound, 
 Pealed far away the startling sound 
 
 Into the forest's heart. 
 
 3. Then marched the brave from rocky steep, 
 
 From mountain river swift and cold ; 
 The borders of the stormy deep. 
 The vales where gathered waters sleep, 
 
 Sent up the strong and bold. 
 
 4. As if the very earth again 
 
 Grew quick with God's creating breath, 
 And, from the sods of grove and glen, 
 Eose ranks of iron-hearted men, 
 
 To battle to the death. 
 
 5. The wife, whose babe first smiled that day, 
 
 The fair fond bride of yester-eve, 
 And aged sire and matron gray. 
 Saw the loved warriors haste away, 
 
 And deemed it sin to grieve. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 38S 
 
 6. Already had tlie strife begun ; 
 
 Already blood on Concord's plain 
 Along the springing grass had run, 
 And blood had flowed at Lexington, 
 
 Like brook of April rain. 
 
 7. That death-stain on the vernal sward 
 
 Hallowed to freedom all the shore ; 
 In fragpaents fell the yoke abhorred — 
 The footstep of a foreign lord 
 
 Profaned the soil no more. 
 
 LXXVII.— THE MUTINT, SIGHT OP LAND, El a 
 
 EOGEKS. 
 
 1. All melt in tears ! but what can tears avail ? 
 These climb the mast, and shift the swelling sail. 
 These snatch the helm ; and round me now I hear 
 Smiting of hands, outcries of grief and fear, 
 (That in the aisles at midnight haunt me still. 
 Turning my lonely thoughts from good to ill.) 
 
 " "Were there no graves — none in our land," they cry 
 " That thou hast brought us on the deep to die ?" 
 
 2. Silent with sorrow, long within his cloak 
 His face he muffled — then the Hero spoke : 
 
 " Generous and brave ! *Vhen God himself is here 
 "Why shake at shadows in your mad career ? 
 He can suspend the laws himself designed, 
 He walks the waters, and the winged wind ; 
 
884 THE FTPTH EEADER. 
 
 Himself your guide ! and yours tiie high behest, 
 
 To lift your voice, and bid a world be blest ! 
 
 And can you shrink ? — to you, to you consigned 
 
 The glorious privilege to serve mankind ! 
 
 Oh had I perished, when my failing frame 
 
 Clung to the shattered oar 'mid wrecks of flame \ 
 
 — Was it for this I Hngered life away, 
 
 The scorn of Folly, and of Fraud the prey ; ' 
 
 Bowed down my mind, the gift His bounty gave, 
 
 A-t courts a suitor, and to slaves a slave ? 
 
 — Yet in His name whom only we should fear, 
 
 ('Tis all, all I shall ask, or you shall hear,) 
 
 Grant but three days." — He spoke not uninspired 
 
 And each in silence to his watch retired. 
 
 B Although among us came an unknown Voice ! 
 " Go, if ye will ; and, if ye can, rejoice : 
 Go, with unbidden guests the banquet share ; 
 In his own shape shall Death receive you there/' 
 Twice in the zenith blazed the orb of light ; 
 No shade, all sun, insufferably bright ! 
 Then the long hne found rest — in coral groves. 
 Silent and dark, where the sea-lion roves : — 
 And all on deck, kindhng to life again, 
 Sent forth theii anxious spirits o'er the main." 
 
 L " Oh whence, as wafted fr6m Elysium, whence 
 These perfumes, strangers to the raptured sense ': 
 These boughs of gold, and fruits of heavenly hue. 
 Tinging with vermeil light the billows blue ? 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 385 
 
 And (till ice, thrice blessed is the eye that spied. 
 The hand that snatched it sparkUng in the tide) 
 Whose cunning carved this vegetable bowl^ 
 Bymbol of social rites, and intercourse of soul?" 
 Such to their grateful ear the gush of springs, 
 Who course the ostrich, as away she wings ; 
 Sons of the desert ! who delight to dwell 
 'Mid kneeling camels round the sacred well ; 
 Who, ere the terrors of his pomp be past, 
 Fall to the demon in the reddening blast. 
 
 5. The sails were furled; with many a melting oloS6j 
 Solemn and slow the evening anthem rose, — 
 Rose to the Virgin. 'Twas the hour of day, 
 When setting suns o*er summer seas display 
 A path of glory, opening in the west 
 To golden climes, and islands of the blest ; 
 And human voices, on the silent air. 
 Went o'er the waves in songs of gladness there ! 
 
 ^. Chosen of men ! 'twas thine, at noon of night. 
 First from the prow to hail the glimmering light ; 
 (Emblem of Truth divine, whose secret ray 
 Enters the soul, and makes the darkness day !) 
 " Pedro ! Eodrigo ! there, methought, it shone 1 
 There — in the west ! and now, alas ! 'tis gone I 
 'Twas all a dream ! we gaze and gaze in vain I 
 — But mark, and speak not, there it comes again I 
 It moves ! — what form unseen, what being there 
 With torch-like luster fires the murky air ? 
 
886 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 His instincts, passions, say how like our own ! 
 Oh ! when will day reveal a world unknown ?** 
 
 7. Long on the wave the morning mists reposed, 
 Then broke — and, melting into light, disclosed 
 Half-circling hills, whose everlasting woods 
 Sweep with their sable skirts the shadowy floods ; 
 And, say, when all,, to holy transport given, 
 Embraced and wept, as at the gates of Heaven, 
 When one and all of us, repentant ran. 
 And, on our faces, blessed the wondrous man ; 
 Say, was I then deceived, or from the skies 
 Burst on my ear seraphic harmonies ? 
 " Glory to God !" unnunjbered voices sung, 
 " Glory to God !" the vales and mountaios rung, 
 Voices that hailed creation's primal morn, 
 And to the Shepherds sung a Saviour bom. 
 
 LXXVIIL— FIBST LANDING OP COLUMBUS. 
 
 lEVINa. 
 
 1. It was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, 
 1492, that Columbus first beheld the New "World. As 
 the day dawned he saw before him a level island, 
 several leagues in extent, and covered with trees like a 
 continual orchard. Though apparently uncultivated, 
 it was populous, for the inhabitants were issuing from 
 all parts of the woods and running to the shore. They 
 were perfectly naked, and, as they stood gazing at the 
 
THE FIFTH READER 387 
 
 ships, appeared by their attitudes and gestures to be 
 lost in astonishment. 
 
 2. Columbus made signals for the ships to cast 
 anchor, and the boats to be manned and armed. He 
 entered his own boat, richly attired in scarlet, and 
 holding the royal standard ; whilst Martin Alonzo 
 Pinzo and Vincent Yanez his brother, put off in 
 company in their boats, each with a banner of the 
 enterprise emblazoned with a green cross, haying on 
 either side the letters F. and Y., the initials of the 
 Castilian monarchs Fernando and Ysabel, surmounted 
 by crowns. 
 
 3. As he approached the shore, Columbus, who was 
 disposed for all kinds of agreeable impressions, was 
 delighted with the purity and suavity of the atmo- 
 sphere, the crystal transparency of the sea, and the 
 extraordinary beauty of the vegetation. He beheld, 
 also, fruits of an unknown kind upon the trees which 
 overhung the shores. On landing, he threw himself 
 on his knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks to 
 God with tears of joy. His example was followed by 
 the rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed with the same 
 feelings of gratitude. 
 
 4. Columbus then rising, drew his sword, displayed 
 the royal standard, and assembling round him the two 
 captains, with Rodrigo de Escobedo (es-co-ha'do),- 
 notary of the armament, Rodrig^ Sanchez, and the 
 rest who had landed, he took solemn possession in the 
 
388 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 name of San Salvador. Having compHed with the 
 requisite forms and ceremonies, he called upon all 
 present to take the oath of 6bedience to him, as ad- 
 miral and viceroy, representing the persons of the 
 sovereigns. 
 
 6. The feelings of the crew now burst forth in the 
 most extravagant transports. They had, recently 
 considered themselves devoted men, hurrying forward 
 to destruction; they now looked upon themselves as 
 favorites of fortune, and gave themselves up to the 
 most unbounded joy. They thronged around the 
 admiral with overflowing zeal, some embracing him 
 others kissing his hands. Those who had been most 
 mutinous and turbulent during the voyage, were now 
 most devoted and enthusiastic. Some begged favors 
 of him, as if he had already wealth and honors in his 
 gift. Many abject spirits, who had outraged him by 
 their insolence, now crouched at his feet, begging par • 
 don for all the trouble they had caused him, and 
 promising the blindest obedience for the future. 
 
 6. The natives of the island, when, at the dawn of 
 day, they had beheld the ships hovering on their coast, 
 had supposed them monsters which had issued from 
 the deep during the night. They had crowded to the 
 beach, and watched their movements with awful anx- 
 iety. Their veering about, apparently without effort, 
 and the shifting an4 furhng of their sails, resembling 
 huge wings, filled them with astonishment. When 
 
THE Fin H KEADElt. 389 
 
 tbey belield their boats approach the shore, and a 
 number of strange beings clad in glittering steel, or 
 raiment of various colors, landing upon the beach, thej 
 fled in affright to the woods. 
 
 7. Finding, however, that there was no attempt to 
 pursue nor molest them, they gradually recovered 
 from their terror, and approached the Spaniards with 
 great awe, frequently prostrating themselves on the 
 earth, and making signs of adoration. During the 
 ceremonies of taking possession, they remained gazing 
 in timid admiration at the complexion, the beards, the 
 shining armor, and splendid dress of the Spaniards. 
 The admiral particularly attracted their attention, from 
 his commanding hight, his air of authority, his dress 
 of scarlet, and the deference which was paid him by 
 his companions ; all which pointed him out to be the 
 commander. 
 
 8. When they had still further recovered from their 
 fears, they approached the Spaniards, touched their 
 beards, and examined their hands and faces, admiring 
 their whiteness. Columbus was pleased with their 
 gentleness and confiding simplicity, and suffered their 
 scrutiny with perfect acquiescence, winning them by 
 his benignity. They now supposed that tke ships had 
 sailed out of the crystal firmament which bounded 
 their horizon, or had descended from above on their 
 ample wings, and that these marvelous beings wer^ 
 inhabitants of the skies. 
 
390 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 9. The natives of the island were no less objects of 
 curiosity to the Spaniards, differing, as they did, from 
 any race of men they had ever seen. Their appear- 
 ance gave no promise of either wealth or civilization, 
 for they were entirely naked, and painted with a 
 variety of colors. "With some it was confined merely 
 to a part of the face, the nose or around the eyes ; 
 with others it extended to the whole body, and gave 
 them a wild andlantastic appearance. 
 
 10. Their complexion was of a tawny or copper hue, 
 and they were entirely destitute of beards. Their hair 
 was not crisped, like the recently-discovered tribes of 
 the African coast, under the same latitude, but straight 
 and coarse, partly cut short above the ears, but some 
 locks were left long behind and falling upon their 
 shoulders. Their features, though obscured and dis- 
 colored by paint, were agreeable ; they had lofty 
 foreheads, and remarkably fine eyes. They were of 
 moderate stature and well shaped; most of them 
 appeared to be under thirty years of age. 
 
 LXXIX-^THE LANDING OF COLUMBUS— Cootintjed. 
 1. As C«Jumbus supposed himself to have landed on 
 an island at the extremity of India, he called the 
 natives by the general appellation of Indians, which 
 «vas universally adopted before the true nature of his 
 discovery was known, and has since been extended to 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH READER. 391 
 
 all the aboriginals of the New World. The Islaudera 
 were friendly and gentle. Their only arms were lances, 
 hardened at the end by fire, or pointed with a flint, or 
 the teeth or bone of a fish. There was no iron to be 
 seen, nor did they appear acquainted with its proper- 
 liies ; for, when a drawn sword was presented to them, 
 they unguardedly took it by the edge. 
 
 2. Columbus distributed among them colored caps, 
 glass beads, hawks' bells, and other trifles, such as the 
 Portuguese were accustomed to trade with among the 
 nations of the gold coast of Africa. They received 
 them eagerly, hung the beads around their necks, and 
 were wonderfully pleased with their finery, and with 
 the sound of the bells. The Spaniards remained all 
 day on shore, refreshing themselves after their anxious 
 voyage amidst the beautiful groves of the island, and 
 returned on board late in the evening, delighted with 
 all they had seen. 
 
 3. On the following morning at break of day, the 
 shore was thronged with the natives ; some swam off 
 to the ships, others came in light barks, which they 
 called canoes, formed of a single tree hollowed, and 
 capable of holding from one man to the number of 
 forty or fifty. These they managed dexterously with 
 paddles, and, if overturned, swam about in the water 
 with perfect unconcern, as if in their natural element, 
 righting their canoes with great facility, and baling 
 them with calabashes. 
 
392 * THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 4. Tliey were eager to procure more toys and 
 trinkets, not, apparently, from any idea of their in- 
 trinsic value, but because everything from the hands 
 of sti*angers possessed a supernatural virtue in their 
 eyes, as having been brought from heaven ; they even 
 picked up fragments of glass and earthenware as valu-?. 
 able prizes. They had but few objects to offer in re- 
 turn, except parrots, of which great numbers were do- 
 mesticated among them, and cotton yarn, of which 
 they had abundance, and would exchange large balls 
 of five and twenty pounds' weight for the merest trifle. 
 
 5. They brought also cakes of a kind of bread called 
 cassava, which constituted a principal part of their 
 food, and was afterward an important article of provi- 
 sions with the Spaniards. It was formed from a great 
 root called yucA, which they cultivated in fields. This 
 they cut into small morsels, which they grated or 
 scraped, and strained in a press, making a broad, thin 
 cake, which was afterward dried hard, and would keep 
 for a long time, being steeped in water when eaten. It 
 was insipid, but nourishing, though the water strained 
 from it was a .deadly poison. There was another kind 
 of yuca .destitute of this poisonous quality, which was 
 eaten in the root, either boiled or roasted. 
 
 6. The avarice of the discoverers was quickly excited 
 by the sight of small ornaments of gold, worn by some 
 of the natives in their noses. These the latter gladly ex- 
 changed for glass beads and hawks' bells ; and both 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH READER. 30' 
 
 parties exulted in tlie bargain, no doubt admiring each 
 other's simplicity. As gold, howev(3r, was an object of 
 royal monopoly in all enterprises of discovery, Colum- 
 bus forbade any traffic in it without his express sanc- 
 tion ; and he put the same prohibition on the traffic for 
 cotton, reserving to the crown all trade for it, wherever 
 it should be found in any quantity. 
 
 7. He inquired of the natives where this gg»ld was 
 procured. They answered him by signs, pointing to 
 the south, where, he understood them, dwelt a king of 
 such wealth that he w^as served in vessels of wrought 
 gold. He understood, also, that there was land to the ■ 
 south, the southwest, and the northwest ; and that the 
 people from the last-mentioned quarter frequently pro- 
 ceeded to the southwest in quest of gold and precious 
 stones, making in their way descents upon the islands, 
 and carrying off the inhabitants. Several of the natives 
 showed him scars^of wounds received in battles with 
 these invaders. It is evident that a great part of this 
 fancied intelligence was self-delusion on the part of 
 Columbus ; for he was under a spell of the imagina- 
 tion, which gave its own shapes and colors to every 
 object. 
 
 8. He was persuaded that he had arrived among the 
 islands described by^ Marco Polo, as lying opposite 
 Cathay, in the Chinese Sea, and he construed every- 
 thing to accord with the account given of those opulent 
 regions. Thus the enemies which the natives spoke of 
 
394 THE HFIH READEK. 
 
 as corniug from the northwest, he cj^icludecl to be the 
 people of the mamland of Asia, the subjects of the 
 great Khan of Tartary, who were represented by the 
 Venetian traveler as accustomed to make war upoi) 
 the islands, and to enslave the inhabitants. The coun- 
 try to the south, abounding in gold, could be no other 
 than the famous island of Cipango ; and the king, who 
 was served out of vessels of gold, must be the monarch 
 whose magnificent city and gorgeous palace, covered 
 with plates of gold, had been extolled in such splendid 
 terms by Marco Polo. 
 
 9. The island where Columbus had thus, for the first 
 time, set his foot upon the New World, was called by 
 the natives, Guanahane (gwali-nah-hah'ne). lU still 
 retains the name of San Salvador, which he gtive to it, 
 though called by the English, Cat Island. The light 
 which he had seen the evening previous to his making 
 land, may have been on Watling's Island, which lies a 
 few leagues to the east. San Salvador is one of the 
 great cluster of the Lucayos (loo-ki'oce), or Bahama 
 Islands, which stretch southeast and northwest from 
 the coant of FWida to Hispaniola, covering the north - 
 ein coast of Cubf^. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 393 
 
 LXXX.-THE DEATH OF MONTEZUMA. 
 
 EOBEBTSON. 
 
 1. The llexicans, now discovering Cortez's bloody 
 intention^ resumed their arms with the additional 
 fury which tbis discovery inspired, attacked the Span- 
 iards who were inarching toward the great square in 
 which the pubKc market was held, and compelled them 
 to retire with some loss. Emboldened by this success, 
 and delighted to find that their oppressors were not 
 invincible, they advanood next day with extraordinary 
 martial pomp to assault the Spaniards in their own 
 quarters. Their number was formidable, and their 
 undaunted courage still move so. 
 
 2. Though the artillery, pointed against their nu- 
 merous battalions, crowded t.'^gether in narrow streets, 
 swept off multitudes at every discharge ; though every 
 blow of the Spanish weapons fell with mortal effect 
 upon their naked bodies, the impetuosity of the assault 
 did not abate. ' Fresh men rushed forward to occupy 
 the places of the slain, and, meeting with the same 
 fate, were succeeded by others no less intrepid and 
 eager for vengeance. The utmost efforts of Cortez s 
 abilities and experience, seconded by the disciplined 
 valor of his troops, were hardly sufficient to defend the 
 fortifications that surrounded the post where tlio 
 Spaniards were stationed, into which the enemy were 
 more than once on the point of forcing their way. 
 
 3. Cortez beheld with wonder the implacable fe- 
 
396 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 rocity of a people wlio seemed at first to submit 
 tamely to the yoke, and had continued so loug passive 
 under it. As soon as the approach of evening induced 
 the Mexicans to retire, in compliance with their na- 
 tional custom of ceasing from hostilities with tho 
 setting sun, he began to prepare for a sally, next day, 
 with such considerable force as might either drive tho 
 enemy out of the city, or compel them to listen to 
 terms of accommodation. 
 
 4. Cortez conducted, in person, the troops destined 
 for this important service. Every invention known in 
 the European art of war, as well as every precaution 
 suggested by his long acquaintance with the Indian 
 mode of fighting, were emploj^ed to insure success. 
 But he found an enemy prepared and determined to 
 oppose him. The force of the Mexicans was greatly 
 augmented by fresh troops, which poured in continually 
 from the country, and their animosity was in no degree 
 abated. They were led by their nobles, inflamed by 
 the exhortations of their priests, and fought in defence 
 qi their temples and famiUes, under the eye of theii' 
 gods, and in presence of their wives and children. 
 
 5. After a day of incessant exertion, though vast 
 numbers of the Mexicans fell, and part of the city was 
 burnt, the Spaniards, weary with the slaughter and 
 harassed by multitudes which successively relieved 
 each other, were obliged at length to retire with the 
 naortifipation of having accomplished nothing so do- 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 397 
 
 cisive as to compensate the unusual calamity of having 
 twelve soldiers killed and above sixty wounded. An- 
 other sally, made with greater force, was more effec- 
 tual, and in it the general himself was wounded in the 
 hand. 
 
 6. Cortez now perceived, too late, the fatal error 
 into which he had been betrayed by his own contempt 
 of the Mexicans, and was satisfied that he could 
 neither maintain his present; station in the centre of a 
 hostile city, nor retire from it without the most im- 
 minent danger. One resource still remained, to try 
 what effect the interposition of Montezuma might have 
 to soothe or overawe his subjects. When the Mexi- 
 cans approached next morning to renew the assault, 
 that unfortunate prince, at the mercy of the Spaniards, 
 and reduced to the sad necessity of becoming the 
 instrument of his own disgrace and of the slavery of 
 his people, advanced to the battlements in his royal 
 robes, and with all the pomp in which he used to 
 appear on solemn occasions. 
 
 7. At sight of their sovereign, whom they had long 
 been accustomed to honor and almost to revere as a 
 god, the weapons dropped from their hands, every 
 ^.ongue was silent, all bowed their heads, and many 
 prostrated themselves on the ground. Montezuma ad- 
 dressed them with every argument that could mitigate 
 theii* rage or persuade them to cease from hostilities 
 When he ended his discourse, a sullen mur.nur of dis 
 
398 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 approbation ran through the ranks ; to this succeeded 
 reproaches and threats ; and the fury of the multitude 
 rising in a moment above every restraint of decency or 
 respect, flights of arrows and volleys of stones poured 
 in so violently upon the ramparts, that before the 
 Spanish soldiers appointed to cover Montezuma with 
 their bucklers had time to lift them in his defence, two 
 arrows wounded the xmhappy monarch, and the blow 
 of a stone on his temple struck him to the ground. 
 
 8. On seeing him fall, the Mexicans were so much 
 astonished, that, with a transition not uncommon in 
 popular tumults, they passed in a moment from one 
 extreme to the other ; remorse succeeded to insult, and 
 they fled with horror, as if the vengeance of heaven 
 "were pursuing the crime which they had committed. 
 The Spaniards without molestation carried Montezuma 
 to his apartments, and Cortez hastened thither to con- 
 sole him under his misfortune. 
 
 9. But the unhappy monarch now perceived how 
 low he was sunk ; and the haughty spirit, which seemed 
 to have been so long extinct, returning, he scorned to 
 survive this last humiliation. In a transport of rage, 
 he tore the bandages from his wounds, and refused 
 with such obstancy to take any nourishment, that he 
 soon ended his wretched days, rejecting with disdain . 
 all the solicitations of the Spaniards to embrace the 
 Christian faith. Upon the death ol Montezuma, 
 Coitez, having l(>st all hope of bringing the M(;xicana 
 
THF FIFTH '{EADER. • 399 
 
 10 accommorlatiou saw uo prospQct of safety but in 
 etreat (152C/. 
 
 LXXXL-THE DISCOVERY OF PERU. 
 
 1. While the whole eastern coast of the American 
 continent had been explored, and the central portion 
 of it colonized, — even after the brilliant achievement 
 of the Mexican conquest, — the veil was not yet raised 
 that hung over the golden shores of the Pacific. Float- 
 ing rumors had reached the Spaniards, from time to 
 time, of countries in the far West, teeming with the 
 metal they so much coveted ; but the first distinct 
 notice of Peru was about the year 1511, when Yasco 
 Nunez de Balboa, the discoverer of the Southern Sea, 
 was weighing some gold which ho had collected from 
 the natives. 
 
 ' 2. A young barbarian chieftain, who was present, 
 struck the scales with his fist, and, scattering the 
 glittering metal around the apartment, exclaimed, — 
 " If this is what you prize so much that you are wilHng 
 to leave your distant homes, and risk even life Itself 
 for it, I can tell you of a laud where they eat and drink 
 out of golden vessels, and gold is as cheap as iron is 
 with you." It was not long after this startliug intelli- 
 gence that Balboa achieved the formidable advouture 
 of scaling the moantaiii rampart of tbo isthmus which 
 
400 ' THE FIFTH KEADER. 
 
 divides the two mighty oceans frora each other 
 when, armed with sword and buckler, he rushed into 
 the waters of the Pacific, and cried out, in the true 
 chivalrous vein, that "he claimed this unknown sea, 
 with all that it contained, for the King of Castile, and 
 that he would make good the claim against all, 
 Christian or infidel, wl^o dared to gainsay it." All the 
 broad continent and sunny isles washed by the waters 
 of the Southern Ocean ! Little did the bold cavalier 
 comprehend the full import of his magnificent vaunt. 
 3. On this spot he received more explicit tidings of 
 the Peruvian empire, heard proofs recounted of its 
 civilization, and was shown drawings of the llama, 
 which, to the European eye, seemed a species of the 
 Arabian camel. But, although he steered his caravel 
 for these golden realms, and even pushed his dis- 
 coveries some twenty leagues south of the Gulf of St. 
 Michael, the adventure was not reserved for him. The 
 illustrious discoverer was doomed to fall a vix3tim to 
 that miserable jealousy with which a little spirit re- 
 gards the achievements of a great one. 
 
 4. The Spanish colonial domain was broken up into 
 a number of petty governments, which were dispensed 
 sometimes to court favorites ; though, as the duties of 
 the post, at this early period, were of an arduous na- 
 ture, they were more frequently reserved for men of 
 some practical talent and enterprise Columbus, by 
 virtue of his original contract with the Crown, haJ 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 401 
 
 'nrisdiction over the territories discovered by Limself, 
 embracing some of the principal islands, and a few 
 places on tlie continent 
 
 5. These colonial governments were multiplied with 
 the increase of empire, and by the year 1524 were scat- 
 tered over the islands, along the Isthmus of Darien, 
 the broad tract of Terra Firma, and the recent con- 
 quests of Mexico. Some of these governments were of 
 no great extent. Others, like that of Mexico, wore of 
 the dimensions of a kingdom ; and most had an indefi- 
 nite range for discovery assigned to them in their 
 immediate neighborhood, by which each of the petty 
 potentates might enlarge his territorial sway, and en- 
 rich his followers and himself. 
 
 6. Floating rumors of the wealth and civilization of 
 a mighty nation at the South were continually reaching 
 the ears and kindling the dreamy imaginations of the 
 colonists ; and it may seem astonishing that an expe- 
 dition in that direction should have been so long 
 deferred. But the exact position and distance of this 
 fairy realm were matter of conjecture. The long tract 
 of intervening country was occupied by rude and war- 
 like races ; and the little experience which the Spanish 
 navigators had already had of the neighboring coast 
 and its inhabitants, and still more, the tempestuous 
 character of the seas — for their expeditions had taken 
 place at the most unpropitious seasons of the year, — 
 
402 THE Firrn reader. 
 
 enhanced the apparent difficulties of the undertaking, 
 and made eyen their stout hearts shrink from it. 
 
 7. Such was the state of feehng in the httle com- 
 munity of Panama* for several years after its founda- 
 tion. Meanwhile, the dazzling conquest of Mexico 
 gave a new impulse to the ardor of discovery, and, in 
 1524, three men were found in the colony in whom the 
 spirit of adventure triumphed over every consideration 
 of difficulty and danger that obstructed the prosecution 
 of the enterprise. One among them was selected as 
 fitted by his character to conduct it to a successful 
 issue. That man was Francisco Pizarfo fpe-zah^roj. 
 
 LXXXIL— DISCOVERY OF PERU.— Continued. 
 
 1. At length the adventurous vessel rounded the 
 point of St. Helena, and glided smoothly into the 
 waters of the beautiful gulf of Guayaquil (gwi-ah-ked^). 
 The country was here studded along the shore with 
 towns and villages, though the mighty chain of the 
 Cordilleras [the Andes], sweeping up abruptly from 
 the coast, left but a narrow strip of emerald verdure, 
 through which numerous rivulets, spreading fertility 
 around them, wound their way into the- sea. The 
 voyagers were now abreast of some of the most stu- 
 
 * Panama was founded by the Spaniards in 1519, who thus trans- 
 ferred the capital of their South American colony from the Atlantic to 
 the Pacific Ocean, with the view to prosecute their explorations and 
 coniiuests southward along the newly-ditf>overed South Sea. 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH READER. * 403 
 
 pendous higlits of this magnificent range — Cliimborazo, 
 with its broad round summit towering hke the dome 
 of the Andes, and Cotopaxi, with its dazzling cone of 
 bilvery white, that knows no change except from th 
 action of its own volcanic fires, — for this mountain is 
 the most terrible of the American volcanoes, and was 
 in formidable activity at no great distance from the 
 period of our narrative 
 
 2. Well pleased with the signs of civilization that 
 opened on them at every league of their progress, 
 the Spaniards at length (1526) came to anchor off the 
 Island of Santa Clara, lying at the entrance of the bay 
 of Tumbez (toombez). The place was uninhabited, but 
 was recognized by the Indians on board as occasion- 
 ally resorted to by warlike people of the neighboring 
 isle of Puna (poo'nah), for the purpose of sacrifice and 
 worship. The Spaniards found on the spot a few bits 
 of gold rudely wrought into various shapes, and pro- 
 bably designed as offerings to the Indian deity. Their 
 hearts were cheered as the natives assured them they 
 would see abundance of the same precious metal in 
 their own city of Tumbez. 
 
 3. The following morning they stood across the bay 
 for this place. As they drew near, they beheld a town 
 of considerable size with many of the buidings appar- 
 ently of stone and plaster, situated in the bosom of a 
 fruitful meadow, which seemed to have been redeemed 
 from the sterility of the surrounding country by caie- 
 
404 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 ful and minute irrigation. When at some distance from 
 the shore, Pizarro saw standing toward him several 
 large balsas/ which were filled with warriors going on 
 an expedition against the island of Puna. 
 
 4. Bunning alongside of the Indian flotilla, he in- 
 vited some of the chiefs to come on board the vessel. 
 The Peruvians gazed with wonder on every object 
 which met their eyes, and especially on their own 
 countrymen, whom they had little expected to meet 
 there. The latter informed them in what manner they 
 had fallen into the hands of strangers, whom they de- 
 
 'scribed as a wonderful race of beings that had come 
 thither for no harm, but solely to be made acquainted 
 with the country and its inhabitants. 
 
 5. This account was confirmed by the Spanish com- 
 mander, who persuaded the Indians to return in their 
 balsas and report what they had learned to their 
 townsmen, requesting them at the same time to pro- 
 vide his vessel with refreshments, as it was his desire 
 to enter into friendly intercourse with the natives. 
 The people of Tumbez were gathered along the shore, 
 and were gazing with unutterable amazement on the 
 floating castle, which, now having dropped anchor, rode 
 lazily at its moorings in their bay. I'hey eagerly lis- 
 tened to the accounts* of their countrymen, and in- 
 stantly reported the affair to the curaca {koo-rah'cuh), 
 or ruler of the district, who, conceiving that the strau-. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 405 
 
 gers must be beings of a superior order, prepared at 
 once to comply with their request. 
 
 6. It was not long before several balsas were seen 
 steering for the vessel laden with bananas, plantains,* 
 yuca, Indian corn, sweet potatoes, pineapples, cocoa- 
 nuts, and other rich products of the beautiful vale of 
 Tumbez. Game and fish, also, were added, with a 
 number of llamas, of which Pizarro had seen the 
 rude drawings belonging to Balboa, but of which, 
 till now, he had met with no living specimen. He ex- 
 amined this curious animal, the Peruvian sheep, — or, 
 as the Spaniards called it, the " little camel " of tlie In- 
 dians, — with much interest, greatly admiring tho mix- 
 ture of the wool and hair which supplied the natives 
 with materials for their fabrics. 
 
 7. At that time there happened to be at Tumbez an 
 Inca noble, or orejon^—iov so men of his rank were 
 called by the Spaniards, from the large ornaments of 
 gold attached to their ears. He expressed great curi- 
 osity to see the wonderful strangers, and had, accord- 
 ingly, come out with the balsas for the purpose. It 
 was easy to perceive from the superior quality of his 
 dress, as well as from the deference paid to him by the 
 others, that he was a person of consideration, and 
 Pizarro received him with marked distinction. 
 
 8. He showed him the different parts of the ship, ex- 
 plaining to him the uses of whatever engaged his at* 
 
406 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 tention, and answeiing his queries, as well as he could, 
 by means of Indian interpreters. The Peruvian chief 
 was especially desirous of knowing whence and why 
 Pizarro and his followers had come to these shores. 
 The Spanish .captain replied that he was the vassal of 
 a great prince, the greatest and most powerful in the 
 world, and that he had come to this country to assert 
 his master's lawful supremacy over it. 
 . 9. He had further come to rescue the inhabitants 
 from the darkness of unbelief in which they were 
 now wandering. They worshiped an evil spirit, who 
 would sink their souls into everlasting perdition ; and 
 he would give them the knowledge of the true and 
 only God, Jesus Christ, since to believe in Him was 
 eternal salvation. The Indian prince listened with 
 deep attention and apparent wonder; but answered 
 nothing. It may be that neither he nor his interpre- 
 ters had any very distinct ideas of the doctrines thus 
 abruptly revealed to them. 
 
 10. It may be that he did not believe there was any 
 other potentate on earth greater than the Inca ; none, 
 at least, who had a better right to lule over his do- 
 minions. And it was very possy)le he was not dis- 
 posed to admit that the great luminary whom ho 
 worshiped was inferior to the God of the Spaniards. 
 But whatever may have passed in the untutored mind 
 of the barbarian, he did not give vent to it, but main- 
 
THE FIFTH BEADER. 407 
 
 tained a discreet silence, without any attempt to con- 
 tj'overt or to convince his Christian antagonist. 
 
 ' Baij'-sas, a sort of sloop, with one large mast, usually used for na 'al 
 
 or maritime purposes. 
 * Or-e'-jx, in Spanish means ear. 
 
 LXXXIIL— THE DISCOVERY OF PERU.— CoNTmuED. 
 
 1. He remained on board the vessel till the hour of 
 dinner, of which he partook with the Spaniards, ex- 
 pressing his satisfaction at the strange dishes, "and 
 especially pleased with the wine, which he pronounced 
 far superior to the fermented liquors of his own coun- 
 try. On taking leave, he courteously pressed the 
 Spaniards to visit Tumbez, and Pizarro dismissed him 
 with a present, among other things, of an iron hatchet, 
 which had greatly excited his admiration ; for the use' 
 of iron was as little known to the Peruvians as to the 
 Mexicans. 
 
 2. On the day following, the Spanish captain sent 
 one of his own- men, named Alonzo de Molina (mo- 
 le f-nah), on shore, accompanied by a negro who had 
 come in the vessel from Panama, together with a 
 present for the curaca, of some swine and poultry, 
 neither of which were indigenous to the New World. 
 Toward evening his emissary returned with a fresh 
 supply of fruits and vegetables, that the friendly 
 people sent to the vessel. Molina had a "ivond^ous 
 tale to tell. 
 
 ^ 
 
iOS THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 3. On landing he was surrounded bj the natives 
 who expressed the greatest astonishment at his dress, 
 his fair complexion, and his long beard. The women, 
 especially, manifested great curiosity in respect to him, 
 and Molina seemed to be entirely won by their charms 
 and captivating manners. He probably intimated his 
 satisfaction by his demeanor, sinc^ they urged him to 
 stay among them, promising in that case to provide 
 him with a beautiful wife. The surprise was equally 
 great at the complexion of his sable companion. They 
 could not believe it was natural, and tried to rub ofi 
 the imaginary dye with their hands. 
 
 4. As the African bore all this with characteristic 
 good-humor, displaying at the same time his rows of 
 ivory teeth, they were prodigiously delighted. The 
 animals were no less above their comprehension ; and, 
 when the cock crew, the simple people clapped their 
 hands, and inquired what he was saying. Their in- 
 tellects were so bewildered by sights so novel, that 
 they seemed incapable of distinguishing between man 
 and brute. 
 
 5. Molina was then escorted to the residence of the 
 curaca, whom he found living in much state, with 
 porters stationed at his doors, and with a quantity of 
 gold and silver vessels, from which he was served. 
 He was then taken to different parts of the Indian 
 city, sa\x a fortress built of rough stone, and, though 
 low, spreading over a large extent of ground. Neai 
 
 j^f. 
 
THE FIFTH READER, 409 
 
 this was a temple ; and the Spaniard's description of 
 its decorations, blazing with gold and silver, seemed 
 so extravagant, that Pizarro, distrusting his whole ac- 
 count, resolved to send a more discreet and trust- 
 worthy emissary on the following day. 
 
 6. The person selected was Pedro de Candia, a 
 Greek cavalier who had joined the expedition. He 
 was sent on shore dressed in complete mail, as became 
 a good knight, with his sword by his side, and his 
 arquebuse^ on his shoulder. The Indians were even 
 more dazzled by his appearance than by Molina's, as 
 the sun fell brightly on his polished armor, and glanced 
 from his military weapons. They had heard much of 
 the formidable arquebuse from their townsmen who 
 had come in the vessel, and they besought Candia "to 
 let it speak to them." 
 
 7. He accordingly set up a wooden board as a tar- 
 get, and, taking deliberate aim, fired off the musket. 
 The flash of the powder, and the startling report of the 
 piece, as the board, struck by the ball, was shivered 
 into splinters, filled the natives with dismay. Some 
 fell on the ground, covering their faces with their 
 hands, and others approached the cavalier with feel- 
 ings of awe, which were gradually dispelled by the as- 
 surance they received from the smiling expression of 
 his countenance. 
 
 8. They then showed him the same hospitable at- 
 tentions which they had paid to Molina ; and hi 
 
410 THE FIFTH EEADER. 
 
 description of the marrels of the place, on his return, 
 fell nothing short of his predecessor's. The fortress, 
 which was surrounded by a triple row of wall, was 
 strongly garrisoned. The temple ho described as 
 literally tapestried with plates of gold and silver. Ad- 
 joining this, structure was a sort of convent appro- 
 priated to the Inca's destined brides, who manifested 
 grea,t curiosity to see him. Whether this was gratified 
 is not clear ; but Candia described the gardens of the 
 convent, which he entered, as glowing with imitations 
 of fruits and vegetables, all in pure gold and silver 1 
 He had seen a number of artisans at work, whose sole 
 business seemed to be to furnish these gorgeous decor- 
 ations for the religious houses 
 
 9. Tumbez was a favorite city of the Peruvian 
 princes. It was the most important place on the 
 northern borders of the empire, contiguous to the 
 recent acquisition of Quito. A strong fortress was 
 established there. The temple and the house occu- 
 pied by the Virgins of the Sun, had been erected 
 by Huayna Capac (hwi'ndh cah'pacj, and were liberally 
 endowed by that Inca, after the sumptuous fashion of 
 the religious establishments of Peru. The town was 
 well supplied with water by numerous aqueducts, and 
 the fruitful valley in which it was embosomed, and the 
 ocean which bathed its shores, supplied ample means 
 of subsistence to a considerable population. . 
 
 10. But the cupidity of the Spaniards, after the con- 
 
THE FIFTH RTT.at^ttw 411 
 
 quest, was not slow in despoiling the place of its 
 glories ; and the site of its proud towers and temples, 
 in less than half a century after that fatal period, was 
 to be traced only by the huge mass of ruins that en- 
 cumbered the ground. The Spaniards were nearly 
 mad with joy, says an old writer, at receiving these 
 brilliant tidings of the Peruvian city. All their fond 
 dreams were now to be realized, and they had at 
 length reached the realm which had so long flitted in 
 visionary splendor before them. Pizarro expressed 
 his gratitude to heaven for having crowned his labors 
 with so glorious a result. 
 
 1 Ab'-que-buse, a sort of hand gun, anciently used, which was cocked 
 with a wheel. 
 
 LXXXIV.— THE ANGELS AT BUBNA VISTA- 
 
 The American Army, nnder General Taylor^ defeated the Mexioana 
 at Buena Vista, February 22d and 23d, 1847. 
 
 1. Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward 
 
 far away. 
 O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array, 
 Who is losing ? who is winning ? are they far or come 
 
 they near ? 
 Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm 
 
 we hear. 
 
iiS THE FIFTH EEADEB. 
 
 2. *' Down tlie hills of Angostura still the storm of 
 
 battle rolls ; 
 Blood is flowing, men are dying ; God have mercy on 
 
 their souls !" 
 Who is losing ? who is winning ? — " Over hill and over 
 
 plain, 
 I rfee but smoke of cannon clouding through the moun- 
 tain rain." 
 B. Holy Mother ! keep our brothers ! Look, Ximena, 
 
 look once more : 
 "Stni I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly as 
 
 before. 
 Bearing on, in strange confusion, friend and foeman 
 
 foot and horse, 
 Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping down its 
 
 mountain course." 
 
 4. Look forth once more, Ximena ! " Ah ! the smoke 
 
 has rolled away ; 
 And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks 
 
 of gray. 
 Hark ! that sudden blast of bugles I there the troop o£ 
 
 Minon wheels ; 
 There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at 
 
 heels. 
 
 5. " Jesu, pity ! how it thickens ! now retreat and now 
 
 advance ! 
 Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's 
 charginp^ lance ! 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 413 
 
 Down they go, the brave young riders ; horse and foot 
 
 together fall ; 
 Like a plowshare in the fallow, through them plows 
 
 the Northern ball." 
 
 6. Nearer came the storm and nearer, rolling fast and 
 
 frightful on : 
 Speak, Ximena, speak and tell us, who has lost and 
 
 who has won ? 
 " Alas ! alas ! I know not ; friend and foe together fall ; 
 O'er the dying rush the living : pray, my sisters, for 
 
 them all !" 
 
 7. "Lo ! the wind the smoke is lifting : Blessed Mother, 
 
 save my brain ! 
 I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps 
 
 of slain : 
 Now they stagger, blind and bleeding ; now they fall, 
 
 and strive to rise ; 
 Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest ^they die 
 
 before our eyes ! 
 
 8. "Oh, my heart's love! oh, my dear one! lay thy 
 
 poor head on my knee ; 
 Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee ? Canst thou 
 
 hear me? canst thou see me? 
 Oh, my husband, brave and gentle ! Oh, my Bernal, 
 
 look once more 
 On the blessed cross before thee ! Mercy ! mercy ! all 
 
 is o'er!" 
 
414 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 9. Dry tliy tears, my poor Xirnena ; lay tliy dear one 
 
 down to rest ; 
 Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his 
 
 breast ; 
 Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral Masses 
 
 said; 
 To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy aid. 
 
 10. Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young 
 
 a soldier lay, 
 Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow 
 
 his life away ; 
 But, as tenderly before him, the lorn Ximena knelt, 
 She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol-belt. 
 
 11. With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned 
 
 away her head 
 With a sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon 
 
 her dead ; 
 But she heard the youth's low moaning, and his strug- 
 
 ghng breath of pain^ 
 Ajid she raised the cooling water to his parching lips 
 
 again. 
 
 12. Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand 
 
 and faintly smiled : 
 Was that pitying face his mother's ? did she watch 
 beside her child? 
 
I 
 
 THE FIFTH READER. 415 
 
 All his stranger words with mGaning her woman's 
 
 heart supplied ; 
 With her kiss upon his forehead, " Mother !" murmured >< 
 
 he, and died ! 
 
 13. "A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led 
 
 thee forth, 
 From some gentle sad-eyed mother, weeping lonely in 
 
 the North!" 
 Spake the mournful Mexic woman as she laid him 
 
 with her dead. 
 And turned to soothe the living, and bind the wounds 
 
 which bled. 
 
 14. Look forth once more, Ximena I " Like a cloud 
 
 before the wind 
 Rolls the battle down the mountain, leaving blood and 
 
 death behind ; 
 Ah ! they plead in vain for mercy ; in the dust the 
 
 wounded strive ; 
 Hide your faces, holy angels ! Oh, thou Christ of God, 
 
 forgive !" 
 
 15. Sink, oh night, among thy mountains ! let the cool, 
 
 gray shadows fall ; 
 Dying brothers, fighting demons, drop thy curtain 
 
 over all ! 
 Through the thickening winter twilight wide apart tha 
 
 battle rolled ; 
 In its sheath the saber rested, and the cannon's lips* 
 
 grew cold. 
 
416 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 16. But the noble Mexic women still their holy task 
 
 pursued, 
 Through that long, dark night of sorrow, worn faint 
 
 and lacking food : 
 Over weak and suffering brothers with tender care 
 
 they hung. 
 And the dying foeman blessed them in a strange and 
 
 Northern tongue. 
 
 17. Not wholly lost, oh Father I is this evil world of 
 
 ours; 
 Upward, through its blood and ashes, spring afresh 
 
 the Eden flowers ; 
 From its smoking hell of battle, Love and Pity send 
 
 their prayer. 
 And still thy white-winged angels hover dimly in our 
 
 air I 
 
 LXXXV.— CHABAOTER AND BURIAL OP DE SOTO. 
 
 IBVINO. 
 
 1. Thus died Hernando de Soto, one of the boldest 
 and the bravest of the many brave leaders who figured 
 in the first discoveries, and distinguished themselves 
 in the wild warfare of the Western World. How 
 proud and promising had been the commencement of 
 his career ! how humble and hapless its close ! Cut 
 off in the very vigor and manhood of his days, for he 
 Was but forty-two years old when he expired ; peri;jli • 
 
THE FIFTH KEADEE. 417 
 
 ing in a strange and savage land, amid tlie din and 
 tumult of a camp, and with merely a few rough soldiers 
 to attend him, for nearly all were engaged in the 
 preparations makiug for their escape in this perilous 
 situation. 
 
 2. Hernando de Soto was well calculated to com- 
 mand the independent and chivalric spirits of which 
 his army was composed ; for, while his ideas of mili- 
 tary discipline were very strict, and he punished every 
 breach of military duty, all other offenses he pardoned. 
 No one was more prompt to notice and reward all 
 soldier-like merit. He is said to have been courteous 
 and engaging in his manners, patient and persevering 
 under difficulties, encouraging his followers by his 
 quiet endurance of suffering. 
 
 3. In his own person he was valiant in the extreme, 
 and of such vigor of arm, that wherever he passed in 
 battle, he is said to have hewn himself a lane through 
 the thickest of the enemy. Some of his biographers 
 have accused him of cruelty toward the Indians ; but, 
 according to the Inca's account, we find him, in 
 general, humane and merciful, striving to conciliate 
 the natives by presents and kind messages, and only 
 resorting to violent means where the safety of himself 
 and his followers were at stake. 
 
 4. The death of the governor left his followers over- 
 whelmed with grief; they felt as if made orphans by 
 liis lose, for they looked up to hira as a father : and 
 
118 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 chey sorrowed the more, because tliey could not give 
 liim a proper sepulture, nor perform tlie solemn obse- 
 quies due to the remains of a captain and commander 
 BO much beloved and honored. 
 
 5. They feared to bury him publicly and with be- 
 coming ceremonials, lest the Indians should discover 
 the place of his interment, and should outrage and 
 insult his remains, as they had done those of other Spa- 
 niards — tearing them fi-om their graves, dismember- 
 ing them, and hanging them piecemeal from the trees. 
 If they had shown such indignities to the bodies of the 
 common soldiers, how much greater would they in- 
 flict upon that of their governor and commander ? 
 Besides, De Soto had impressed them with a very 
 
 * exalted opinion of his prudence and valor, and the 
 Spaniards, therefore, dreaded, lest, finding out the 
 death of their leader, they might be induced to revolt, 
 and fall upon their handful of troops. 
 
 6. For these reasons they buried him in the dead of 
 night, with sentinels posted to keep the natives at a 
 distance, that the sad ceremony might be safe from 
 the observation of their spies. The place chosen for 
 his sepulture was one of many pits, broad and deep, 
 in a plain near to the village from whence the Indians 
 had taken earth for their buildings. Here he was 
 interred, in silence and in secret, with many tears of 
 the priests and cavahers who were present at his 
 mournful obsequien. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 419 
 
 7. The better to deceive the Indians and prevent 
 their suspecting the place of his interment, they gave 
 out, on the following day, that the governor was re- 
 covering from his malady, and, mounting their horses, 
 they assumed an appearance of rejoicing. That all 
 traces of the grave might be lost, they caused much 
 water to be sprinkled over it, and upon the surround- 
 ing plain, as if to prevent the dust being raised by 
 their horses. They then scoured the plain, and gal- 
 loped about the pit, and over the very grave of their 
 commander : but it was difficult, under this cover of 
 pretended gayety, to conceal the real sadness of their 
 hearts. 
 
 8. With all these precautions they soon found out 
 that the Indians suspected not only the death of the 
 governor, but the place where he lay buried ; for in 
 passing by the pits, they would stop, look round atten- 
 tively on all sides, talk with one another, and make 
 signs with their chins and their eyes toward the spot 
 where the body was interred. 
 
 9. The Spaniards perceiving this, and feeling that 
 the Indians would search the whole plain until they 
 found the body, determined to disinter it, and place it 
 where it would be secure from molestation. No phico 
 appeared better suited to the purpose than the Missis- 
 sippi ;,but first they wished to ascertain whether tliere 
 was sufficient depth to hide the body effectually. Ac- 
 cordingly, Juan de Anasco, and other officers, taking 
 
420 THE FIFTH READEll 
 
 with them a mariner, embarked one evening in a canoei, 
 under pretense of fishing and amusing themselves ; 
 and, sounding the river where it was a quarter of a 
 league wide, thej found, in the mid-channel, a depth 
 of nineteen fathoms. Here, therefore, they determined 
 to deposit the body. 
 
 10; As there was no stone in the neighborhood 
 wherewith to sink it, they cut down an evergreen oak, 
 and made an excavation in one side, of the size of a 
 man. On the following night, with all the silence 
 possible, they disinterred the body, and placed it in 
 the trunk of the oak, nailing planks over the aperture. 
 Thexustic coffin was then conveyed to the center of the 
 river, where, in presence of several priests and cava- 
 liers, it was committed to the stream, and they behold 
 it sink to the bottom ; shedding many tears over this 
 second funeral rite, and commending anew the soul of 
 the good cavalier to heaven. 
 
 11. The Indians soon perceiving that the governor 
 was not with the army, nor buried as they had sup- 
 posed, demanded of the Spaniards where he was. The 
 general reply, prepared for the occasion, was, that 
 God had sent for him, to communicate to him great 
 things, which he was commanded to perform, as soon 
 as he should return to earth. With this answer the 
 Indians remained apparently content. 
 
 12. The Cacique, however, who beheved him to be 
 4ead, sent two handsome young Indians to Moscoso 
 
THE FIFTH KEADER. 421 
 
 with the message, that it was the custom of his coun- 
 try, when any great prince died, to put to death some 
 persons to attend him, and serve him on his journey to 
 the land of spirits ; and for that purpose these young 
 men presented themselves. Luis de Moscoso replied, 
 that the governor was not dead, but gone to heaven, 
 and had chosen some of his Christian followers to 
 attend him there ; he therefore prayed Guachoya to 
 receive again the two Indian youths, and to renounce 
 so barbarous a custom for the future. He accordingly 
 set the Indians at liberty on the spot, and ordered 
 them to return to their homes ; bat one of them re- 
 fused to go, saying he would not serve a master wlic 
 had condemned him to death without a cause, but 
 would ever follow one who had saved his life. 
 
 13. De Soto's effects, consisting in all of two slaves, 
 three horses, and seven hundred swine, were disposed 
 of at public sale. The slaves and horses were sold ^br 
 three thousand crowns each ; the money to be paid by 
 the purchaser on the first discovery of any gold or 
 silver mines, or as soon as he should be proprietor of a 
 plantation in Florida. Should neither of these events 
 come to pass, the buyer pledged himself to pay the 
 money within a year. The swine were sold in like 
 manner, at two hundred crowns apiece. Henceforth, 
 the greater number of the soldiers possessed this de- 
 sirable article of food, which they ate of on all days 
 Ba,ve Fridays, Saturdays, aad the eves of festivals, 
 
422 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 which they rigidly observed, according to the customs 
 of the Koman Catholics. 
 
 After vainly tryiug to reach Mexico through the forests, the leninant 
 of his followers built seven frail barks, and sailed down the Missis- 
 Bippi, reaching the Gulf of Mexico in seventeen days. They then 
 sailed along the coast of Mexico, and, after a voyage of about fifty 
 days, finally arrived at a Spanish settlement (Sept, 10, 1543), 
 
 The word Misnissippi is a corrupted Indian name {Micke Sepe), 
 meaning, literally, *• Father of Waters." After the events above re- 
 lated, no farther exploration of the river or of its adjacent regions was 
 made until the French, under La Salle, explored the valley, descend- 
 ing the river as far as its mouth in 1691, eight years after which an 
 attempt at settlement was made by IberviUe. This region was named 
 Louisiana, in honor of Louis XVI., King of France. 
 
 LXXXVL— THE ENGLISH INVADEES. 
 
 M. P. CUSA.CK. 
 
 Sister Mary Fi-ancis Clare (M. F. Gusack), from whose History of 
 Ii-eland the following has been taken, is a Franciscan Sister. She 
 resides, at present, at the convent of Kenmare, Ireland. She is the 
 author of a Life of St. Francis and a Historical Sketch of the Francis- 
 can Order, and of several other popular and well-written books. 
 
 1. In the reign of Henry II., certain Anglo-Norman 
 nobles came to Ireland, and, partly by force and partly 
 by intermarriages, obtained estates in that country. 
 Their tenure was the tenure of the sword. By the 
 sword they expelled persons whose families had pos- 
 sessed those lands for centuries; and by the sword 
 they compelled these persons, through poverty, con- 
 sequent on loss of property, to take the position of in- 
 feriors where they had been masters. You will ob- 
 serve that Ibis first English settlement in Ireland was 
 
THE FIFTH READEK. 423 
 
 simply a colonization on a very small scale. Under 
 such circuinstances, if tW'native population are averse 
 to the colonization, and if the new and the old races 
 do not amalgamate, a settled feeling of aversion, more 
 or less strong, is established on both sides. The 
 natives hate the celonist, because he has done them a 
 grievous injury by taking possession of their lands; 
 the colonist hates the natives, because they are in his 
 way ; and, if he be possessed of " land hunger," they 
 are an impediment to the gratification of his desires. 
 It should be observed that there is a wide difference 
 between colonization and conquest. 
 
 2. The Saxons conquered what we may presume to 
 have been the aboriginal inhabitants of England ; the 
 Normans conquered the Saxon : the conquest in both 
 cases was sufficiently complete to amalgamate the 
 races — the interest of the different nationalities became 
 one. The Norman lord scorned the Saxon churl quite 
 as contemptuously as he scorned the Irish Celt ; but 
 there was this very important difference— the interests 
 of the noble and the churl soon became one ; they 
 worked for the prosperity of their common country. 
 In Ireland, on the contrary, the interests were oppo- 
 site. The Norman noble hated the Celt as a people 
 he could not subdue, but desired most ardently to dis- 
 possess; the Celt hated the invader as a man most 
 naturally will hate the individual who is just strong 
 enough to keep a wound open by his struggles, and 
 
124 THE FIFTH KEADEK. 
 
 not strong enough to end tlie suffering by killing Iha 
 victim. 
 
 3. For centuries Ireland was left to tne mercy and 
 the selfishness of colonists. Thus, with each succeed- 
 ing generation, the feeHng of hatred towards the 
 English was intensified with each nfew act of injustice, 
 and such acts were part of the normal rule of the in- 
 vaders. A lord deputy was sent after a time to rule 
 the country. Perhaps a more unfortunate form of 
 government could not have been selected for Ireland. 
 The lord deputy knew that he was subject to recall at 
 any moment ; he had neither a personal nor a heredi- 
 tary interest in the country. He came to make his 
 fortune there, or to increase it. He came to rule for 
 his own benefit, or for the benefit of his nation. The 
 worst of kings has, at least, an hereditary interest in 
 the country which he governs ; the best of lord 
 deputies might say that, if he did not oppress and 
 plunder for himself, other men would do it foi- them- 
 selves: why, then, should he be the loser, when the 
 people would not be gainers by his loss ? 
 
 LXXXVEL— IRELAND AND THE IRISH. 
 
 GILES. 
 
 1. Much there is in Ireland that we most dearly love. 
 We love its music, sweet and sad, and low and lonely ; 
 it comes with a pathos, a melancholy, a melody, on the 
 pulses of the heart, that no other music breathes, and 
 while it grieves it soothes. 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 425 
 
 2. It seems to flow with long complaint over the 
 course of ages, or to grasp with broken sobs through 
 the ruins and fragments of historic thought. We are 
 glad with the humor of Ireland, so buoyant and yet so 
 tender, quaint with smiles, quivering with sentiment, 
 pursing up the lips T^hile it bedews the eyelids. 
 
 3- We admire the bravery of Ireland, which may 
 have been broken but never has been bent, — which has 
 often been unfortunate, but which never has been 
 craven. We have much affection for the Irisli^ char- 
 acter. We give unfeigned praise to that purity of feel- 
 ing which surrounds Irish women in the humblest 
 class, and amidst the coarsest occupations, with an at- 
 mosphere of sanctity. 
 
 4. We acknowledge with heartfelt satisfaction that 
 kindred love in the Irish poor, that no distance can 
 weaken, and that no time can chill. We feel satisfied 
 with our humanity, when we see the lowly servant girl 
 calling for her wages, or drawing on the savings' bank 
 for funds, to take tears from the eyes of a widowed 
 mother in Connaught, or fears from the soul of an aged 
 father in Munster. 
 
 6. We behold a radiance of grandeur around the 
 head of the railroad laborer, as he bounds, three 
 thousand miles away, at the sound of repeal, at the 
 name of O'Connell, and yet more as his hand shakes, 
 as he takes a letter from the post-office, which, rude as 
 it may be in superscription, is a messenger from the 
 
^6 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 1 
 
 cot in whicli liis childhood lay, is an angel from the 
 fields, the hills, the streams, the mountains, and the 
 moors wherein his boyhood sported. 
 
 6. We remember, with many memories of delight, 
 too, the beauties of Ireland's scenery. We recollect 
 the fields that are ever green ; the hills that bloom to 
 the summit ; the streamlets that in sweetness seem to 
 sing her legends ; the valleys where the fairies play ; 
 the voices among her glens, that sound from her winds 
 as w^h the spirit of her bards; the shadow of her 
 ruins at moonlight, that in pale and melancholy splen- 
 dor appear like the ghosts of her ancient heroes. 
 
 LXXXVIIL^THE OKAYANAGH. 
 
 J. ACGUaXUS SHEA. 
 
 1. The Saxons had met, and the banquet was spread, 
 And the wine in fleet circles the jubilee led ; 
 
 And the banners that hung round the festal that night. 
 Seemed brighter by far than when Hf ted in fight. 
 
 2. In came the O'Kavanagh, fair as the morn. 
 When earth to new beauty and vigor is born ; 
 
 They shrank from his glance, like the waves from the 
 
 prow, 
 For nature's nobility sat on his brow. 
 
 3 Attended alone by his vassal and bard — 
 No trumpet to herald, no clansmen to guard — 
 He came not attended by steed or by steel : . 
 No danger he knew, for no fear did he feel. 
 
THE FIFTH READER 427 
 
 4. In eje and on lip his liigh confidence smiled — 
 So proud, yet so knightly — so gallant, yet mild ; 
 He moved like a god through the Hght of that hall, 
 And a smile, full of courtliness, proffered to all. 
 
 6. " Come pledge us, lord chieftain ! come pledge us 1" 
 
 they cried ; ^ 
 
 Unsuspectingly free to the pledge he replied ; 
 And this was the peace-branch O'Kavanagh bore — 
 " The friendships to come, not the feuds that are o'er !" 
 
 6. But, minstrel, why cometh a change o'er thy theme ? 
 Why sing of red battle — what dream dost thou dream? 
 Ha ! " Treason ! 's the cry, and " Eevenge !" is the call, 
 As the swords of the Saxon surrounded the hall ! 
 
 7. A kingdom for Angelo's mind ! to portray 
 Green Erin's undaunted avenger that day ; 
 
 The far-flashing sword, and the death-darting eye. 
 Like some comet commissioned with wrath from the 
 sky. 
 
 8. Through the rank^ of the Saxon he hewed his red 
 
 way- 
 Through lances, and sabres, and hostile array ; 
 And, mounting his charger, he left them to tell 
 The tale of that feast, and its bloody farewell. 
 
 9. And now on the Saxons his clansmen advance, 
 '^Viih a shout from each heart, and a soul in each 
 
 lance : 
 
428 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 He rushed, like a storm, o'er the night-covered heath, 
 And swept through their ranks, like the angel of death. 
 
 10. Then hurrah! for thy glory, young chieftain, 
 
 hurrah ! 
 Oh ! had we such lightning-souled heroes to-day, 
 Again tfould our " sunburst" expand in the gale, 
 And Freedom exult o'er the green Innisfail 1 
 
 LXXXIX-— THE BATTLE OP CLONTAEF. 
 M. r. cnsACK. 
 
 1. The storm was now gathering in earnest, and the 
 most active preparations w^ere made on both sides for 
 a mighty and decisive conflict. The Danes had al- 
 ready obtained possession of England, a country which 
 had always been united in its resistance to their power, 
 a country numerically superior to Ireland : why should 
 they not hope to conquer, with at least equal facility, a 
 people who had so many opposing interests, and who 
 rarely sacrificed these interests to the common good? 
 Still they must have had some fear of the result, if we 
 may judge by the magnitude of their preparations. 
 They despatched ambassadors in all directions to ob- 
 tain reinforcements. Brodir, the earl, and Amlaibh, 
 SOD of the King of Lochlann, " the two Earls of Cair, 
 and of all the north of Saxon land, " came at the head 
 oi 2,000 men ; " and there was not one villain of that 
 
THE fiFTH KEADER. 429 
 
 2,000 who had not polished, strong, triple-plated 
 armor of refined iron, or of cooling, uncorroding 
 brass, encasing their sides and body from head to 
 foot." Moreover, the said villains "tad no reverence, 
 veneration, or respect, or mercy for God or man, for 
 church or for sanctuary ; they were cruel, ferocious, 
 plundering, hard-hearted, wonderful Dannarbrians, 
 selling and hiring themselves for gold and silver, and 
 other treasure as well." 
 
 2. Gormflaith was evidently " head centre " on the 
 occasion ; for we find wonderful accounts of her zeal 
 and efforts in collecting forces. " Other treasure " 
 may possibly be referred to that lady's heart and hand, 
 of which she appears to be very liberal on this oc- 
 casion. She despatched her son, Sitric, to Siguard, 
 Earl, of the Orkneys, who promised his assistance, but 
 he required the hand of Gormflaith as payment for his 
 services, and that he should be made King of Ireland. 
 Sitric gave the required promise, and found on his re- 
 turn to Dublin, that it met with his mother's entire ap- 
 probation. She then despatched him to the Isle of 
 Man, where there were two Yikings, who had thirty 
 ships and she desired him to obtain their co-operation " 
 at any price." They were the brothers Ospak and 
 Brodir. The latter demanded the same conditions as 
 the Earl Siguard, which were promised quite as readily 
 by Sitric,only he charged the Yiking to keep the agree- 
 ment secret, above all not to mention it to Siguard. 
 
480 THE FIFTH EftlDER. 
 
 3. Brodir,^ according to the Saga, Tvas an apostate 
 Christian, who had " thro\\Ti off his faith, and become 
 God's dastard." He was both tall and strong, and 
 had such long black hair that he tacked it under his 
 bolt ; he had also the reputation of being a magician. 
 The Viking Ospak refused to fight against " the good 
 King Brian," and, touched by some prodigies, became 
 a convert to Christianity, joined the Irish monarch at 
 Kincora, on the Shannon, and received holy baptism. 
 The author of the JVars of the Gaedhil gives a formid- 
 able hst of the other auxiliaries who were invited by 
 the Dublin Danes. The Annals of Loch Ce also give 
 an account of the fleet he assembled, and its " chosen 
 braves." Maelmordha had mustered a large army 
 also ; indeed, he was too near the restless and revenge- 
 ful Lady Gormflaith to have taken matters quietly, 
 even had he been so incUned. 
 
 4 Meanwhile Brian had been scarcely less success- 
 ful, and probably not less active. He now marched 
 towards Dublin, " with all that obeyed him of the men 
 of Ireland." These were the provincial troops of 
 Munster and Connaught and the men of Meath. His 
 march is thus described in the JVars of the Gaedhil : — 
 " Brian looked out behiad him, and beheld the battle 
 phalanx — compact, huge, discipHned, moving in silence, 
 
 * It has been suggested that this was not his real name. He was 
 Ospak's brother, and Brodir may have been mistaken for a proper 
 name. There was a Danish Viking named Gutring, who was an apoa* 
 tute deacon, and who may have been thq Brodir of Irish history. 
 
THE FUTTII READER. 431 
 
 mutely, bravely, hauglitily, unitedly, with one mind, 
 traversing the plain towards them ; threescore and ten 
 banners over them — of red, and of yellow, and of 
 green, and of all kinds of colors ; together with the 
 everlasting, variegated, hicky, fortunate banner, that 
 had gained the victory in every battle, and in every 
 conflict, and in every combat." 
 
 5. The site of the battle has been accurately defined. 
 It took place on the plain of Clontarf, ^ and is called 
 the Battle of the Fishing Weir of Clontarf. The weir 
 was at the mouth of the river Tolka, where the bridge 
 of Ballybough now stands. The Danish line was ex- 
 tended along the coast, and protected at sea by their 
 fleets. It was disposed in three divisions, and com- 
 prised about 21,000 men, the Leinster forces being in- 
 cluded in the number. The first division or left wing 
 was the nearest to Dublin. It was composed of the 
 Danes of Dubhn, and headed by Sitric, who was sup- 
 ported by the thousand mail-clad Norwegians, com- 
 manded by Carlus and Anrud. In the centre were the 
 Langennians, under the command of Mselmordha. 
 
 * There is curious evidence that the account of the battle of Clon- 
 tarf must have been written by an eye-witness, or by one who had ob- 
 tained his information from an eye-witness. The author states that 
 • ' the foreigners came out to fight the battle in the morning at the full 
 tide," and that the tide came iu again in the evening at the same 
 place. The Danes suffered severely from this, " for the tide had 
 carried away their ships from them." Consequently, hundreds per- 
 ished in the waves. — TFars of the Gaedhil, p. 191. 
 
132 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 The right wing comprised the foreign auxiUaries, under 
 the command of Brodir and Siguard. 
 
 6. Brian's army was also disposed in three divisions. 
 The first was composed of his brave Dalcassians, and 
 commanded by his son Murrough, assisted by his four 
 brothers, Teigue, Donough, Connor, and Flann, and 
 his youthful heir, Turlough^ who perished on the field. 
 The second division or center was composed of troops 
 from Munster, and was commanded by Mothla, grand- 
 son of the King of the Deisi, of Waterford, assisted by 
 many native princes. The third battalion was com- 
 manded by Maelruanaidh (Mulrooney of the Pater- 
 nosters) and Teigue O'Kelly, with all the nobles of 
 Connaught. Brian's army numbered about twenty 
 thousand men. The accounts which relate the posi- 
 tion of Mai achy, and his conduct on this occasion, are 
 hopelessly conflicting. It appears quite impossible to 
 decide whether he was a victim to prejudice, or 
 whether Brian was a victim to his not unnatural hos- 
 tihty. 
 
 7. On the eve of the battle, one of the Danish chiefs, 
 Plait, son of King Lochlainn, sent a challenge to Domh- 
 nall, son of Emhin, High Steward of Mar. The battle 
 commenced at daybreak. Plait came forth and ex- 
 claimed three times, " Faros JDomhnall ?" (Where is 
 Domhnall?) Domhnall replied : "Here, thou reptile." 
 A terrible hand-to-hand combat ensued. They fell 
 dead at the same moment, the sword of each through 
 
THE FOURTH READER. 433 
 
 the lieart of the other, and the hair of each in the 
 clenched hand of the other. And the combat of those 
 two was the first combat of the battle. 
 
 8. Before the engagement Brian harangued his 
 troops, with the crucifix in one hand and a sword in 
 the other. He reminded them of all they had suffered 
 from their enemies, of their tyranny, their sacrilege, 
 their innumerable perfidies ; and then, holding the 
 crucifix aloft, he exclaimed : " The great God has at 
 length looked down upon our sufferings, and endued 
 you with the power and the courage this day to destroy 
 for ever the tyranny of the Danes, and thus to punish 
 them for their innumerable crimes and sacrileges by 
 the avenging power of the sword. Was it not on this 
 day that Christ Himself suffered death for you ?" 
 
 9. The mailed armor of the Danes seems to have 
 been a source of no little dread to their opponents. 
 But the Irish battle-axe might well have set even more 
 secure protection at defiance. It was wielded with 
 such skUl and force, that frequently a limb was lopped 
 off with a single blow, despite the mail in which it was 
 encased ; while the short lances, darts, and shnging- 
 stones proved a speedy means of decapitating or stun- 
 ning a fallen enemy. 
 
 10. The Dalcassians surpassed themselves in feats 
 of arms. They hastened from time to time to refresh 
 their thirst and cool their hands in a neighboring 
 brook ; but the Danes soon fiUed it up. and deprived 
 
434 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 them of this resource. It was a conflict of heroes — a 
 haiid-to-hand fight. Bravery was not wanting on 
 either side, and for a time the result seemed doubtful. 
 Towards the afternoon, as many of the Danish leaders 
 were cut down, their followers began to give way, and 
 the Irish forces prepared for a final effort. At this 
 moment the Norwegian prince, Anrud, encountered 
 Murrough, whose arms were paralyzed from fatigue ; 
 he had still physical strength enough to seize his 
 enemy, fling him on the ground, and plunge his sword 
 into the body of his prostrate foe. But even as he in- 
 flicted the death-wound, he received a mortal blow 
 from the dagger of the Dane, and the two chiefs fell 
 together. 
 
 11. The melee was too general for an individual in- 
 cident, however important in itself, to have much effect. 
 The Northmen and their alUes were flying hard and 
 fast, the one towards their ships, the others towards 
 the city. But as they fled across the Tolka, they for- 
 got that it was now swollen with the incoming tide, 
 and thousands perished by water who had escaped the 
 sword. 
 
 XC— THE CRUELTY OF CEOMWELL IN IRELAND. 
 
 M. P. CTJSACK 
 
 1. Cromwell was now master of England, and ruled 
 with all that authority which is so freely granted to a 
 revolutionary leader, and so often denied to a lawful 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 435 
 
 monarch. Tho great body of the EngUsh stood 
 aghast with horror when they discovered that regicide, 
 and the substitution of an illegal tyranny for one 
 which at least was legal, was the end of all their hopes. 
 The new ruler was aware of the precariousness of his 
 position. The safety of his head, as well as the con- 
 tinuance of his power, depended on the caprice of the 
 multitude ; and he saw that the sword alone could 
 maintain him in the elevated position to which he had 
 risen, and the still more elevated position to which he 
 aspired. We scarcely imagine him to have been more 
 religious or less humane than many of his contempo- 
 raries, though it is evident that he required a great 
 show of the kind of religion then fashionable to sup- 
 port his character as a reformer, and that he con- 
 sidered himself obliged to exercise wholesale cruelties 
 to consolidate his power. 
 
 2. The rightful heir to the English throne was then 
 at the Hague, uncertain how to act and whither he 
 should turn his steps. He wished to visit Ireland, 
 where he would have been received with enthusiastic 
 loyalty by the Catholics ; but Ormonde persuaded him, 
 from sinister motives, to defer his intention. Ormonde 
 and I^chiquin now took the field together. The for- 
 mer advanced to Dublin, and the latter to Drogheda. 
 This town was held by a Parliamentary garrison, who 
 capitulated on honorable terms. Monk and Owen 
 O'Neil, in the meantime, were acting in concert, and 
 
43f^ THE FIFTH KEADER. 
 
 Inchiquin captured supplies which the English Gene- 
 ral was sending to the Irish chief. Newry, Dundalk. 
 and the often-disputed and famous Castle of Trim 
 surrendered to him, and he marched back to Ormonde 
 in triumph. As there appeared no hope of reducing 
 Dublin except bj famine, it was regularly blockaded ; 
 and the Earl wrote to Charles to inform him that his 
 men were so loyal, he could " persuade half his army 
 to starve outright for his Majesty." 
 
 3. Ormonde now moved his camp from Finglas to 
 Bathmines, and at the same time reinforcements ar- 
 rived for the garrison, under the command of Colonels 
 Keynolds and Yenables. The besiegers made an 
 attempt to guard the liver, and -for this purpose, Ma- 
 jor-General Purcell was sent to take possession of the 
 ruined Castle of Bagotrath, about a mile from the 
 camp. Ormonde professed to have expected 4an "attack 
 during the night, and kept his men under arms; but 
 just as he had retired to rest, an alarm was given. 
 Colonel Jones had made a sortie from the city ; the 
 sortie became for a brief moment an engagement, and 
 ended in a total rout. The Earl was suspected ; and 
 whether he had been guilty of treachery or of careless- 
 ness, he lost his credit, and soon after left the king- 
 dom. 
 
 4. Cromwell had been made Lieutenant-General of 
 the English army in Ireland, but as yet he had been 
 unable to take the command in person. His positior 
 
THE FIFTH EILiDEE. 437 
 
 was precarious ; and lie wished to secure Lis influence 
 still more firmly in liis own country, before he at- 
 tempted the conquest of another. He had succeeded 
 so far in the accomplishment of his plans, that his de- 
 parture and his journey to Bristol were undertaken in 
 royal style. He left the metroplis early in June, in a 
 coach drawn by six gallant Flanders' mares, and con- 
 cluded his progress at Milford Haven, where he em- 
 barked, reaching Ireland on the 14th of August, 1649. 
 He was attended by some of the most famous of ' the 
 Parliamentary Generals — his son, Henry, the future 
 Lord Deputy ; Monk, Blake, Ireton, Waller, Ludlow, 
 and others. He brought with him, for the propagation 
 of the Gospel and the Commonwealth, £200,000 in 
 money, eight regiments of foot, six of horse, several 
 troops of dragoons, a large supply of Bibles,* and a 
 corresponding provision of ammunition and scythes. 
 The Bibles were to be distributed amongst his soldiers, 
 and to be given to the poor unfortunate natives, who 
 could not understand a word of their contents. The 
 scythes and sickles were to deprive them of all means 
 of living, and to preach a ghastly commentary on the 
 conduct of the men who wished to convert them to the 
 new Gospel, which certainly was not one of peace. 
 Cromwell now issued two proclamations : one against 
 
 * See '* The Cromwellian Settlement of Ireland," by John P. Pren- 
 dergaat, Esq. The scythes and sickles were to cut down the corn, thut 
 the Irish might be starved if they could not be conquered. 
 
4:38 THE FIFTH EEADER. 
 
 iutemperance, for he knew well the work that was 
 before him, and he could not afford to have a single 
 drunken soldier in his camp. The other proclamation 
 prohibited plundering the country people : it was 
 scarcely less prudent. His soldiers might any day 
 become his masters, if they were not kept under strict 
 control ; and there are few things which so effectually 
 lessen military discipline as permission to plunder : he 
 also wished to encourage the country people to bring 
 in provisions. His arrangements all succeeded. 
 
 5. Ormonde had garrisoned Drogheda with 3,000 of 
 his choicest troops. They were partly English, and 
 were commanded by a brave loyalist, Sir Arthur Aston. 
 This was really the most important town in Ireland ; 
 and Cromwell, whose skill as a mihtary general can- 
 not be disputed, at once determined to lay siege to it 
 He encamped before the devoted city on the 2nd of 
 September, and in a few days had his siege guns 
 posted on the hill, still known as Cromwell's Fort. 
 Two breaches were made on the 10th, and he sent in 
 his storming parties about five o'clock in the evening. 
 Earthworks had been thrown up inside, and the garri- 
 son resisted with undiminished bravery. The besieged 
 at last wavered ; quarter was promised to them, and 
 they yielded ; but the promise came from men who 
 knew neither how to keep faith or to show mercy. 
 The brave Governor, Sir Arthur Aston, retired with 
 
THE FIFTH READEE. 4:39 
 
 Jiis staff to an old mill on an eminence, but tbey were 
 disarmed and slain in cold blood. The officers and 
 soldiers were first exterminated, and tlien men, women, 
 and cliildren were put to the sword. The butchery 
 occupied five entire days. Cromwell has himself de- 
 scribed the scene, and glories in his cruelty. Another 
 eyewitness, an officer in his army, has described it 
 also, but with some faint touch of remorse. 
 
 6. A number of the townspeople fled for safety to 
 St. Peter's Church, on the north side of the city, but 
 every one of them was murdered, all defenceless and 
 unarmed as they were ; others took refuge in the 
 church steeple, but it was of wood, and Cromwell him- 
 self gave orders that it should be set on fire, and those 
 who attempted to escape the flames were piked. The 
 principal ladies of the city had sheltered themselves 
 in the crypts. It might have been supposed that this 
 precaution should be unnecessary, or, at least, that 
 English officers would respect their sex ; but, alas for 
 common humanity ! it was not so. When the 
 slaughter had been accomplished above, it was con- 
 tinued below. Neither youth nor beauty was spared. 
 Thomas Wood, who was one of these officers, and 
 brother to Anthony Wood, the Oxfor^ historian, says 
 he found in these vaults " the flower and choicest of 
 the women and ladies belonging to the town ; amongst 
 whom, a most handsome virgin, arrayed in costly and 
 gorgeous apparel, kneeled down to him with tears and 
 
dlO ' THE IIITH KEADEIl. 
 
 prayers to save her life." Touched by her beauty and 
 her entreaties, he attempted to save her, and took her 
 out of the church ; but even his protection could not 
 save her. A soldier thrust his sword into her body ; 
 and the officer recovering from his momentary fit of 
 compassion, " flung her down over the rocks," accord- 
 ing to his own account, but first took care to possess 
 himself of her money and jewels. This officer also 
 mentions that the soldiers were in the habit of taldng 
 up a child, and using it as a buckler, when they wished 
 to ascend the lofts and galleries of the church, to save 
 themselves from being shot or brained. It is an evi- 
 dence that they knew their victims to be less cruel 
 than themselves, or the expedient would not have been 
 found to answer. 
 
 XOL— THE SONG OP THE COSSACK. 
 
 EEV. FEANCIS MAHONT, 
 
 Hev. Francis Mahony was a native of Cork, and after some years 
 spent in the ministry as a Catholic clergyman, devoted himself to 
 literature, and was long a prized contributor to EngUsh magazines 
 and journals, where his keen wit, great versatility and varied know- 
 ledge, made his articles very popular. 
 
 1. Come, arotise thee up, my gallant horse, and bear 
 thy rider on ! 
 The comrade thou, and the friend, I trow, of the 
 dweller on the Don. 
 
THE FIFTH READER, 411 
 
 Pillage and Death liave spread tlieir wings ! 'tis tlie 
 
 hour to hie thee forth, 
 And with thy hoofs an echo wake to the trumpets of 
 
 the North ! 
 Nor gems nor gold do men behold upon thy saddle- 
 tree ; 
 But earth affords the wealth of lords for thy master 
 
 and j^r thee. 
 Then fiercely neigh, my charger gray ! — thy chest is 
 
 proud and ample; 
 Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and 
 
 the pride of her heroes trample ! 
 2. Europe is weak — she hath grown old — her bulwarks 
 
 are laid low ; 
 She is loath' to hear the blast of war — she shrinketh 
 
 from a foe ! 
 Come, in our turn, let us sojourn in her g09dly haunta 
 
 of joy- 
 In the pillared porch to wave the torch, and hex 
 
 palaces destroy ! 
 Proud as when first thou slakedst thy thirst in the flow 
 
 of conquered Seine, 
 Aye shalt thou lave, within that wave, thy blood-red 
 
 flanks again. 
 Then fiercely neigh, my gallant gray ! — thy chest is 
 
 strong and ample ! 
 Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and 
 
 the pride of her heroes trample I 
 
i42 THE FIFTH HEADER. 
 
 3. Kings are beleaguered on their thrones by fclieir 
 
 own vassal crew ; 
 And in their den quake noblemen, and priests are 
 
 bearded too ; 
 And loud they yelp for the Cossack's help to keep 
 
 their bondsmen down, 
 And they think it meet, while they kiss our feet, to 
 
 wear a tyrant's crown I 
 The sceptre now to my lance shall bow, and the crosier 
 
 and the cross 
 Shall bend alike, when I lift my pike, and aloft THAT 
 
 SCEPTRE toss I 
 
 Then proudly neigh, my gallant gray! — thy chest is 
 
 broad and ample ; 
 Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and 
 
 the pride of her heroes trample ! 
 
 4. In a night of storm I have seen a form ! — and the 
 
 figure was a giant, 
 
 And his eye was bent on the Cossack's tent, and his 
 look was all defiant ; 
 
 Kingly his crest — and towards the West with his bat- 
 tle-axe he pointed ; 
 
 And the " form" I saw was Attila I of this earth the 
 scourge anointed. 
 
 From the Cossack's camp let the horseman's tramp the 
 coming crash announce ; 
 
 Let the vulture whet his beak sharp set, on the carrion 
 field to pounce ; 
 
THE FIFTH READER. 443 
 
 And proudly neigh, my cliarger gray !— Oil ! tliy chest 
 
 is broad and ample : 
 Ihy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and 
 
 the pride of her heroes trample ! 
 
 5. What boots old Europe's boasted fame, on which 
 
 she builds reliance, 
 When the North shall launch its avalanche on her 
 
 works of art and science ? 
 Hath she not wept her cities swept by our hordes of 
 
 trampling stallions ? 
 And tower and arch crushed in the march of our bar^ 
 
 barous battalions ? 
 Can we not wield our father's shield ? the same war- 
 hatchet handle ? 
 Do our blades want length, or the reapers' strength, 
 
 for the harvest of the Vandal ? 
 Then proudly neigh, mj gallant gray, for thy chest is 
 
 strong and ample ; 
 And thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of Franco. 
 
 and the pride of her heroes trample ! 
 
 XCIL— ST. BERNAKD. 
 
 MONXAIiEMBEBT. 
 
 1. All acknowledge Saint Bernard to be a great man 
 and a man of genius ; he exercised over his age an in- 
 fluence that has no parallel in history ; he reigned by 
 
444 ^TIIE FIFTH READER. 
 
 eloquence, courage, and virtue. More than once he 
 decided the future of nations and of crowns. At one 
 time he held, as it were, in his hands the do'itiny of the 
 Church. He knew how to move Europe, and pre- 
 cipitate it upon the East; he completely vanquished 
 Abelard, the precursor of modern Rationalism. All 
 the world knows it ; and all the world sayp. it ; all, with 
 one voice, place him by the side of Ximenes, Richelieu, 
 and Bossuet. 
 
 2. But this is not sufficient. If he was, and »vho can 
 doubt it? a great orator, a great writer, and a great 
 person, it was almost without Lis knowing it, and 
 always in opposition to his own wish. He was, and 
 above all wished to be, something else ; he was a monX 
 and he was a saint; he Hved in a cloister and he 
 worked miracles. 
 
 3. The Church has defined and canonized the 
 sanctity of Bernard ; history is charged with the mis- 
 sion of relating his life, and of explaining the wonder- 
 ful influence he exercised over his contemporaries. 
 
 4. But in studying the life and epoch of this great 
 man, who was a monk, we find that Popes, Bishops, 
 and Saints, who were the bulwark and honor of Christ- 
 ian society, all, or almost all, like Bernard, came from 
 the monastic orders. Who then v/ere these monks, 
 and whence did they come, and what had they done, 
 up to this period, to make them occupy so high a 
 place in the destiny of the world ? 
 
THE FIFTH READER.^ 415 
 
 5. These questions we must solve before going far- 
 ther. And we must do more ; for in trying to judge of 
 the age in which Saint Bernard lived, we find that it is 
 impossible to explain or comprehend it, if we do not re- 
 cognize that it was animated by the same breath which 
 vivified an anterior epoch of which it is only the direct 
 and faithful continuation. 
 
 6. If the twelfth century bowed before the genius 
 and virtue of Saint Bernard, it was because the 
 eleventh century had been regenerated and penetrated 
 with the virtue and genius of another monk, Gregory 
 YIT. ; and we could not comprehend either the epoch 
 or the action of Bernard, when apart from the salutary 
 crisis which the one had prepared and rendered pos- 
 sible for the other; and never would a simple monk 
 have been heard and obeyed as Bernard was, if his 
 uncontested greatness had not been preceded by the 
 struggles and trials, and the posthumous victories of 
 that other monk, who died six years before the birth of 
 our Saint. 
 
 7. It must then be characterized, not only by a con- 
 scientious view of the pontificate of the greatest of the 
 Popes, taken from the ranks of the monks, but also by 
 passing in review the entire period which unites the 
 last combats of Gregory with the first efforts of Ber- 
 nard ; and, while keeping this in view, describe the 
 most important and most glorious struggle in which 
 the monks were the first in. sufTorincis as in lionors. 
 
446 THE FIFTH READER. 
 
 8. And even this is not sufficient. Far from being 
 the founders of monastic orders, Gregorj VII. and 
 Bernard were only their offsprings, in common with so 
 many thousands of their contemporaries. When these 
 great men took so wondrous a part in them, these in- 
 stitutions had existed more then five centuries. 
 
 9. To understand their origin, and to appreciate their 
 nature and services, we must go back to another 
 Gregory — to Samt Gregory the Great — the first Pope 
 who left the cowl for the tiara ; or back still farther, to 
 Saint Benedict, the legislator and patriarch of the 
 monks of the West. We must at least cast a glance, 
 during these five centuries, upon the superhuman ef- 
 forts made by these legion of monks to subdue, pacify, 
 discipline, and purify twenty barbarous nations, and 
 successively transform them into Christian nations. 
 
 XCIEL-THE LIBEKTY OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 liACORDAIEE. 
 
 1. Such, then, was Home when Jesus Christ sent 
 his disciples to convert her to Himself, and such was 
 with Rome the whole universe. Mistress of the world, 
 after having enchained nations to her greatness she 
 held them enchained to her humihations ; and for the 
 first time in the history of the human race liberty had 
 no longer an asylum upon earth. 
 
 2. I say, for the first time. Until then, by a provi- 
 
THE FIFTH KEADRE. 417 
 
 dence worthy of all our thanksgivings, God had so 
 provided that there was always some free land where 
 virtue and truth could defend themselves against the 
 designs of the stronger. Whilst the east was fertile 
 in tyrannies, Egypt possessed institutions worthy of 
 esteem, and judged her kings after their death ; Greece 
 defended her tribune against the ambition of the 
 kings of Persia ; Rome protected her citizens by laws 
 which surrounded their lives with many sacred ram- 
 parts. If from ancient we pass to modern times, we 
 shall find there the same care of Providence in not 
 permitting despotism to reign everywhere at the same 
 time. The present world is divided into three zones : 
 the zone of unlimited tyranny, which has nothing to 
 envy from the most cruel histories of the past ; an in- 
 termediate zone where some action is still permitted 
 to thought and to faith ; and, in fine, that generous 
 western zone of which we form a part, those great 
 kingdoms of France, England, the United States 
 of America, Spain, where rights and duties have 
 guarantees ; where men speak, write, discuss ; where, 
 whilst power oppresses the majesty of God and man 
 in distant regions, we defend it without glory, because 
 nothing in that office menaces either our heads or our 
 honor I 
 
 3. A unique moment arrived when, with a map of 
 the world open before you, you would have sought in 
 vain for a mountain or a desert to slielter the heart of 
 
448 THE FIFfH READER. 
 
 Cato of Utica, and when Cato of Utica tliouglit it 
 necessary to ask from death that Kberty which no spot 
 upon earth could any longer giye to him. At that 
 unique and terrible moment, Jesus Christ sent His 
 apostles to announce the Gospel to every creature, and 
 to found in their faith, love, and adoration, the king- 
 dom of souls and of truth. 
 
 Let us see what this kingdom was to the Roman 
 empire. 
 
 5. First, it was the liberty of the soul. Jesus Christ 
 claimed the soul ; He claimed that it should be free to 
 know Him, to love Him, to adore Him, to pray to Him, 
 to unite with him. He did not admit that any other 
 than Himself had right over the soul, and above all 
 the right of hindering the soul from communicating 
 with him. Yet much more ; Jesus Christ claimed the 
 public union of souls in His service ; He knew nothing 
 of secrecy ; He demanded a patent and social worship. 
 The liberty of the soul implied the right to found 
 material and spiritual churches, to assemble, to pray 
 together, to hear in common the Word of God, that 
 substantial food of the soul which is its daily bread, 
 and of which it can be deprived only by an act of 
 sacrilegious homicide. The liberty of the soul implied 
 the right of practicing together all the ceremonies of 
 public worship, of receiving the sacraments of eternal 
 life, of living together by the Gospel and Jesus Christ. 
 None upon earth possessed any longer the government 
 
THE FIFTH UEXDEH. 449 
 
 of sacred tilings but the anointed of tlie Lord — the 
 elect souls — initiated into a larger faith and love, tested 
 by the successors of the apostles, sanctified by ordina- 
 tion. All the rest, princes and peoples, were excluded 
 from the administration of the body and blood of 
 Jesus Christ, that divine center of the kingdom of souls, 
 and which it was not meet to deliver to dogs, according 
 to the forcible expression of the most gentle Gospel. 
 
 6. But as the soul is the basis of man, by creating 
 the liberty of the soul, Jesus Christ, at the same time 
 created the liberty of man. The Gospel, as the regu- 
 lator of the rights and duties of all, rose to the power 
 of a universal charter, which became the measure of 
 all legitimate authority, and which, in hallowing it, 
 preserved it from the excesses into which human power 
 had everywhere fallen. On this account, the kingdom 
 of souls was absolutely the very opposite of the Roman 
 empire, and it was impossible to imagine a more com- 
 plete antagonism. The Roman empire was universal 
 servitude ; the kingdom of souls, universal hberty. 
 Between them it was a question of being or not being. 
 The struggle was inevitable ; it was to be a deadly, 
 struggle. 
 
 XCIV.— THE LIBERTY OF THE GOSPEL.— Continued. 
 
 1. Now, what force did the kingdom of souls dispose 
 of against that empire covered with legions ? None, 
 
450 THE FIFTH HEADER 
 
 The Forum ? It was no more. The people V They 
 were no more. ±!iloquence ? It was no more. Thought! 
 It was no more. Was it at least permitted to .the first 
 Christians whom the Gospel had raised up in the 
 world to gather one against a hundred thousand for 
 the combat ? No, that was not permitted to them. 
 What then was their strength ? The same that Jesus 
 Christ had before them. They had to confess His 
 name and then to die, to die to-daj, the day after, to 
 die one after another, that is to say, to vanquish servi- 
 tude by the peaceful exercise of the liberty of the soul ; 
 to vanquish force, not by force, but by .virtue. It had 
 been said to them : If for three " centuries you caJi 
 boldly say~" I believe in God the Father Almighty, 
 Maker of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His 
 only Son our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary, 
 was dead, and is risen again ;" if for three centuries 
 you can say this openly, and die daily after having de- 
 clared it, in three centuries you shall be masters, that 
 is to say, free. 
 
 2. And this was done. 
 
 And this was done in spite of the fury of the Eoman 
 empire converting the universe into a headsman, and 
 losing its terrified reason in the emptiaess of its cruel- 
 ties. I will say no more of the martyrs ; they con- 
 quered, as the whole world knows. And this kingdom 
 of souls foundei by their blood, this kingdom of souls 
 which was to destroy i lolati-y, and which has destroyed 
 
THE FIFIH READ I R. 451 , 
 
 it. which was to overthrow the Roman empire, and 
 which has overthrown it in all that was false and un- 
 just in it ; where did this kingdom of S9uls set up its 
 capital ? In Rome ! The seat of virtue was placed in 
 the seat of power ; the seat of liberty in the seat of 
 bondage ; in the seat of shameful idols the seat of the 
 cross of Jesus Christ ; in the seat whence the orders 
 of Nero issued to the world, the seat of the disarmed 
 and aged pastor, who, in the name of Jesus Christ ; 
 whose vicar he is, spreads throughout the world purity, 
 peace, and blessing. O triumph of faith and love ! O 
 spectacle which enraptures man above himself by 
 showing him what he can do for good Avith the help of 
 God ! My own eyes have seen that land, the liberator 
 of souls, that soil formed of ashes and blood of mar- 
 tyrs ; and why should I not recur to remembrances 
 which will confirm my words in re-invigorating my 
 life? 
 
 3. One day, then, my heart all trembling with 
 emotion, I entered by the Flaminian gate that famous 
 city which had conquered the world by her arms, and 
 governed it by her laws. I hurried to the Capitol ; but 
 the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus no longer crowned 
 its heroic summit. I descended to the Forum ; the 
 orator's tribune was broken down, and the voices of 
 herdsmen had succeeded to the voices of Cicero and 
 Hortensius. I mounted the steep paths of the Pala* 
 tine : the Caesars were gone, and tliey had not even 
 
452 IHE FIFTH KE.U)ER. 
 
 left a pretorian at the entry to ask the name of th€ 
 mquisitive stranger. "Whilst I was pondering those 
 mighty ruins, through the azure of the ItaHan sky, 1 
 perceived in the distance a temple whose dome ap- 
 peared to cover all the present grandeurs of that city 
 upon whose dust I trod. I advanced toward it, and 
 there, upon a vast and magnificent space, I found 
 Europe assembled in the persons of her ambassadors, 
 her poets, her artists, her pilgrims — a throng diverse 
 ^in origin, but united, it seemed, in common and ear- 
 nest expectation. I also waited, when in the distance 
 before me an old man advanced, borne in a . chair 
 above the crowd, bareheaded and holding in his two 
 hands, under the form of mysterious bread, that man 
 of Judea aforetime crucified. Every head bent before 
 him, tears flowed in silent adoration, and upon no 
 visage did I see the protestation of doubt, or the sha- 
 dow of a feehng which was not, at least, respectful. 
 
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