THE 
 
 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR : 
 
 OB, 
 
 ERSITY SELECTIONS 
 
 PROSE AND POETRY; 
 
 CONSISTING OP 
 
 NARRATIVE, DE>?CRIPTIVE, ARGUMENTATIVE, DIDACTIC, 
 PATHETIC, AND HUMOROUS PIECES; 
 
 TOGETHBK WITH 
 
 DIALOGUES, ADDRESSES, ORATIONS, SPEECHES, dui. 
 
 CALCOUITBO 
 
 TO IMPROVE THE SCHOLAR IN READING AND SPEAKING; AND 
 
 TO IMPRESS THE MINDS OP YOUTH WITH SENTIMENTS 
 
 OP PIETY AND VIRTUE. 
 
 DESIGNED FOR THE USE OF, SCHOOLS AND ACADEMIES. 
 FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 BY J. OLNEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OP "a practical SYSTEM OF MODERN GEOGRAPHY AND ATLAS." 
 
 PUBLISHED BY GOODWIN & CO. AND ROBINSON & PRATT. 
 
 8TBR£0TYPBD BY JAMES CONNER, NUW-YORS. 
 
 1835. 
 
^ 
 
 DISTRICT OF CONNECTICUT, ss. 
 rr e 1 BE IT REMEMBERED, That on the eighth day of August, in the flflr- 
 L-"* ^'J fourth year of the Independence of the United states of America, Messrs. 
 Goodwin «fc Ca, of the said District, have deposited in this office the title of a Book, 
 the right whereof they claim as proprietors, in tlie words following, to wit: 
 
 " The National Preceptor, or Selections in Prose and Poetry ; consisting of narrative, 
 descriptive, argumentative, didactic, pathetic, and h\unorous pieces: together with 
 dialogues, addresses, oi'ations, speeches, &c. ; calculated to improve the scholar in 
 reading and speaking, and to impress tlie minds of yoiilh with sentiments of piety and 
 virtue. Designed for the use of schools and academies. By J. Olney, Autlior of ' A 
 practical system of modern Geography and Atlas.'" 
 
 In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled, " An act for the 
 encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the 
 authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned." — And 
 also to the act, entitled, " An act supplementary to an act, entitled, 'An act for the en 
 couragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the au- 
 thors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned,' and extend- 
 ing the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and 
 other prints," 
 
 CHARLES A. INGERSOLI^ 
 Clerk of the District of Connecticut. 
 A true copy of record, examined and sealed by me. 
 
 CHARLES A. INCERSOLL, 
 Clerk of the District of ConttecticuL 
 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The art of reading well, is a highly valued accomplishment, and in all 
 our schools should be considered of the first importance; it is not only the 
 foundation of good speaking, but it may be termed the basis of a finished 
 education. 
 
 Experience has convinced me that it may be easily taught, by beginning 
 with such lessons as are intelligible find interesting to the learner, and 
 making each selection witli reference to i\\e natural progres.s of the mind. 
 Where emotions are excited, there is little need of mles for their expres- 
 sion. 
 
 Cluestions like the following are often asked : — Why do children and 
 youth more frequently fail in good reading, than in any other branch of 
 education 1 Why do we often hear a youth, whose tones in conversation 
 are varied and agreeable, read in a dull, monotonous manner'? Why are 
 tliere so few good readers in society 1 We believe a correct answer will 
 be found in the fact that bo.d habits have been formed by a practice of 
 reading uninteresting if not unintelligible exercises. Let any competent 
 judge examine the books used in teaching this valuable art, and he will 
 see tliat their comjiilers have hitherto but little known or regarded the 
 taste, wants and capacities of those for whom they have laboured. 
 
 The following work is designed for the middle and higher classes in our 
 Academies and Schools. In preparing it, great care has been taken to 
 select such lessons, as are calculated to give exercise to the various emo- 
 tions of the mind and the corresponding tones and inflections of the voice. 
 It will be found to contain a greater quantity of interesting and useful 
 matter than any other similar work ; and the different selections are so 
 arranged as to give the learner a knowledge of reading the various kinds 
 of style, from the simple narrative to the lofty epic. The compiler flatters 
 himself tliat the work is such an one as has long been needed ; and in the 
 earnest hope that it may be found useful to the young in improving their 
 Btyle of reading, and in exciting them to virtuous action, 
 
 Humbly submits it to the candor 
 
 of an enlightened public 
 
 J. OLNEY. 
 
 Hartford, April, 1831. 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 The following extract from the North American Review is inserted here for 
 the benefit of teachers and others interested in the education of youth. 
 
 "It ought to be a leading object in our schools to teach the art of read- 
 ing. It ought to occupy three-fold more time than it does. The teachers 
 of these schools should labor to improve themselves. They should feel, 
 that to them, for a time, art committed the future orators of the land. We 
 had rather have a child, even of the other sex, return to us from school, a 
 first-rate reader, than a first-rate performer on the piano-forte. We should 
 feel that we had a far better pledge for the intelligence and talent of our 
 child. The accomplishment, in its perfection, would give more pleasure- 
 The voice of song is not sweeter than the voice of eloquence. And there 
 may be eloquent readers, as well as eloquent speakers. We speak of 
 perfection in this art; and it is something, we must say in defence of our 
 preference, which we have never yet seen. Let the same pains be devo- 
 ted to reading, as are required to form an accomplished performer on an 
 instrument ; let us have our pkonasci, as the ancients had, — the formers 
 of the voice, the music-masters of the reading voice ; let us see years 
 devoted to this accomplishment, and then we shall l)e prepared to stand 
 the comparison. It is, indeed, a most intellectual accomplishment. So is 
 music, too, in its perfection. But one recommendation of the art of read- 
 ing is, that it requires a constant exercise of mind. It demands continual 
 and close reflection and thought, and the finest discrimination of thought. 
 It involves, in its perfection, tlie whole art of criticism on language." 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 SIMPLIFIED PROM THE WORKS OF 
 
 PORTER, WALKER, AND RUSH. 
 
 All who attentively observe the movements of the voice in reading or in 
 speaking, will perceive that it rises and falls as in singing. Let any one 
 count slowly, and he will easily discover these variations of the voice, as, 
 snt, hod, three,— four, five, six ; — here it will be seen that the voice varies 
 in its tones. Let these words drawl off the tongue and these slides of the 
 voice will be still more apparent. In the question and answer, — Will you 
 
 go to-day 7 No — any one will easily perceive that the voice is inclined up- 
 wards on die word day, and downwards on no. These movements, or slides 
 of the voice are called inflections, which include all those gradual waving 
 variations which arc heard in good reading, or in animated conversation. 
 
 The modifications of tlie voice are four — viz. The rising inflection, 
 which turns the voice, upwards, marked thus (') — the falling inflection, 
 which turns the voice downwards, marked thus (") — the circumflex, which 
 is a union of the falling and rising inflections, marked thus («^) — and the 
 Tiionotone, which is a sameness of sound, marked thus (_). That the learner 
 may acquire a practical knowledge of these inflections, it is important that 
 he should be exercised on examples like the following, till he can easily 
 distinguish one from the other. 
 
 RISING INFLECTION. FALLING INFLECTION. 
 
 Will you ride or walk ^ 
 
 Will you read or spell 1 
 
 Did he act properly or improperly "? 
 
 Is he rich —————or poor '? 
 
 Is he learned or ignorant 1 
 
 Will you go or stay 7 
 
 Did you see him' or his brother? 
 
 Did I say fame or blame 1 
 
 Did I say read or read '? 
 
 You must not say no — '■ but no. 
 
 Is he studious 7 So am 'I. 
 
 Does he stvidy 1 I am idle. 
 
 Is he rich 1 I am poor. 
 
 Does he ride 1 I shall walk. 
 
 Will you walk? I shall ride. 
 
 Rule 1. When interrogative sentences, connected by the disjunctive or, 
 succeed each other, the first ends with the rising inflection, the latter with 
 the falling; as, 
 
 Did you say no or yes 7 
 
 Did you riin or v/alk 7 
 
 Will you write or read? 
 
 Rule 2. A direct question, or tliat which admits the answer of yes or »o, 
 has the rising inflection, and tlie answer has the falling; as, 
 Did you say fajne 7 No. I said name. 
 Did you speak 7 I did. 
 Will you ride 7 I will walk. 
 Rule 3. The indirect question and its answer, has the falling inflection; 
 Why are you idle? I have no book. 
 Why do you study 7 That I may learn. 
 What is your name 7 A good scholar. 
 1* 
 
vi ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Rule 4. When a sentence is composed of a positive and negative part, 
 which are opposed to each other, thb positive must have the falling inflec- 
 tion and the negative the rising ; as, 
 
 He did not say yours ^but mine. 
 
 He did not say younger but older. 
 
 He will not go to-day but to-morrow. 
 
 Study not for o/musement but for imprdvem.ent. 
 
 Kule 5. Commands, denunciation, reprehension, generally require tlft 
 falling inflection ; as, 
 
 Give me the book. Hence! begone! away! 
 Stand ! the ground's your own, my braves. 
 Wo unto you Pharisees I Why tempt ye me. 
 Rule 6. When two members consisting of single words commence a sen- 
 tence, the first has the falling, the second the rising infleciion ; as, 
 Idleness '&nd Ignorance are insepax'able companions. 
 Rule 7. The final pause, or that which denotes the sense to be finished, 
 requires the falling inflection ; as, 
 
 Love, joy, peace; long-suffering', gentleness, goodness, faith', meekness', 
 and temperance, are the fruits of the Spirit. 
 
 Rule 8. Tender emotions require the rising inflection ; as, 
 Jesus saith unto her, Mary. 
 You too, Brutus. 
 Rule 9. The circumjlex is generally applied to phrases that are of a hy- 
 pothetic nature, and to negations contrasted with aflirmations ; as, 
 If ye love me, keep my commandments. 
 The kingdom of God is not in words, but in power. 
 
 PAUSES. 
 Pauses are distinguished into two kinds; viz. The Grammatical Pause, 
 designated by points, and addressed to ihe eye ; and the Rhetorical Pause, 
 dictated by the sense, and therefore addressed to the ear. 
 
 It is taken for granted that the learner is already acquainted with the 
 Jirst, which renders it unnecessary to give any explanation of it here. 
 
 The Rhetorical Pause is that cessation of the voice which the reader or 
 speaker makes after some important word in a sentence, and upon which 
 he wishes to fix the attention of the hearer. 
 
 When a proper name, or a word which stands for the subject of a dis- 
 course, begins a sentence, it requires a pause after it, although the gram- 
 matical relation would allow no visible punctuation ; as 
 Hypocrisy is a homage that vice pays to virtue. 
 Prosperity gains friends ; adversity tries them. 
 Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil the better artist. 
 Here, although the grammatical relation would admit no visible pause 
 after the words in Italic, yet the ear demands one, which no good reader 
 would fail to make. The following examples are marked to show more 
 fully the use of this pause. 
 
 Some — place the bliss in action, some — in ease ; 
 Those — call it pleasure, and contentment — these. 
 Thou — art the man. 
 The young — are slaves to novelty ; the old — to custom. 
 
ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 Vll 
 
 Memory — is the purveyor of reason. 
 
 Man — is the merriest species in the creation. 
 
 Virtue — is of intrinsic value. 
 
 The great pursuit of man — is after happiness. 
 
 The good reader will perceive the propriety of pausing after the first 
 word, as the subject of the sentence. By this pause the mind is fixed 
 upon the principal object of attention, and prepared to proceed witli clear- 
 ness and deliberation to the reception of what follows. 
 
 PITCH OF VOICE. 
 
 By Pitch of Voice is meant those high and low tones which prevail in 
 speaking. Every person has three pitches of voice, which are easily dis- 
 tmguished ; viz. — the natural or middle pitch, — the high pitch, — and the 
 Imo pitch. The natural or middle pilch is that which is heard in com- 
 mon conversation. The high pilch is used in calling to one at a distance. 
 The low pitch is employed when we speak to one quite near, and who, 
 though surrounded by many, is the only one supposed to hear. 
 
 The learner must be informed here, that high and lond., and low and 
 soft, have not the least affinity. To render the different pitches of the voice 
 clear and intelligible to the learner, the following diagram is inserted, ex- 
 hibiting to the eye a scale of speaking tones, similar to that used in music 
 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 7 
 6 6 
 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 2 
 
 • 
 
 
 High Pitch. 
 
 1 
 5 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Middle Pitch. 
 
 • 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 Low Pitch. 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Let the learner commence in as low a bass-key as possible, and count 
 up the diagram, rising a tone* oach number, the same as sounding the 
 eight notes in music, and he will easily discover that the degrees of pitch 
 in speaking, are the same as those in singing. This scale of speaking" 
 tones, may seem difficult at first, but a very little practice will render it 
 easy. Let the learner speak one in as low a bass-key as possible — then 
 two, «&c. and he will find tliat he can speak these with as much ease and 
 correctness as he can sing them. When he has acquired a knowledge of 
 these different pitches and tones — let him take a sentence and read it on 
 the lowest note— then read it on a note higher, and so on, till he has 
 reached tlie highest note of his voice. Take the following line. 
 " On, — on, — to tlie just and glorious strife." 
 
 " The Semitone between the 3 and 4 is not noticed here, being unnecessary in ihe 
 present case. 
 
viii ELEMENTS OF ELOCUTION. 
 
 A little practice, it is believed, will give the reader a perfect eommand of 
 his voice in ail the degi-ees of tone from the lowest to the highest notes to 
 which tlie voice can be raised. 
 
 ACCENT. 
 Accent is a stress of voice given to a particular syllable to distinguish it 
 from others in tlie saxne word; as in the word a-tone'-ment, the stress is 
 laid on the second syllable. Accent is, in a measure, dependent on em- 
 phasis, and is transposed where the claims of emphasis require it ; as 
 when words occur, which have a partial tameness in form, but are con- 
 trasted in sense ; as, 
 
 Neither jMstice nor hijustice. ! \ 
 
 Neitlier hdnor nor (fishonor. 
 
 He must increase but I must decrease. 
 
 He that cscended is the same as he that descended* 
 
 Neither Idicfu] nor ii?z lawful. 
 
 Neither ic6rlhy nor tt/jworthy. 
 
 EMPHASIS. 
 
 Emphasis is a stress of voice laid on particular words in a sentence, to 
 distinguish them from others, and convey their meaning in the best man- 
 ner ; as, " You were not sent here to play, but to study. ^' The learner 
 will perceive that the words play and study are pronounced with more 
 force than the rest of the sentence, and are therefore termed the emphatical 
 words. « 
 
 A word, on which the mea.ning of a sentence is suspended, or placed in 
 contrast, or in opposition to other words, is ahoays eviphatical. 
 
 As to the degree or intensity of force that the reader or speaker should 
 give to impoi'tant words in a sentence, no particular rules can be givtn. 
 He must enter into the spirit of what he reads — -feel the sentiment ex- 
 pressed, and he will seldom fail in giving each word its proper force, or 
 emphatic stress. Emphasis is ever associated with thought and emotion ; 
 and he who would become eminent as a reader, or speiUier, must remem- 
 ber that tlie " soul of eloquence 'i& feeling." 
 
 EXAMPLES FOR EXERCISE. 
 
 I do not request your nttention. but rlemand it 
 It is not so difficult to talk well, as to live well. 
 Prosperity gains friends, adversity tries them. 
 
 'Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill 
 
 Appear in writing or in judging ill. 
 Angels! and minitJters of .j^race, — defend us. 
 I come to bury Ceesar, not to praise him. 
 
 A METHOD OF MARKING THE DIFFERENT FORCES OF WORDS. 
 
 Various methods have been devised to mark the diiterent forces of words 
 in sentences, in such a manner as to convey a clear idea of the pronuncia- 
 tion. The most simple and practical metliod is to unite the unaccented 
 words to those diat are accented, as if they were syllables of them. This 
 classification naturally divides a sentence into just so many portions, as it 
 contains accents ; as in the following sentence : 
 
 Prosperity | gains friends | and adversity | tries them. 
 
 "When there is no uncommon einphasis in a sentence, we can pronounce 
 it wiUi more or fewer accents, without materitdly affecting the sense. The 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 following sentence may be pronounced in four portions, or in ten, without 
 any injury to the sense of it. 
 
 Pitchuponthdtcourseoflife | whichisthemost6xcellent ] andc{istom | will 
 makeitthemostdelightful. 
 
 Pitch I uponthdt | course | oflife | whichisthem6st | excellent | andcds- 
 tom I willmakeit | themost | delightful. 
 
 Some I place the bliss | in action | some | in ease. 
 Those I call it | pleasure | and contentment | these. 
 
 The following extract from the poems of Ossian is inserted as scored 
 by Dr. Rush: 
 
 And is the son of Semo fallen 1 \ Mournful are Tura's walls. | Sorrow 
 dwells at Dunscai. | Thy spouse is left alone in her youth. | The son of 
 thy love is alone ! | He shall come to Bragela, | and ask why she weeps 1 
 I He shall lift his eyes to the wall, | and see his father's sword. | Whose 
 sword is that? | he will say. | The soul of his mother is sad. j Who is 
 that, I like the hart of the desert, | in the murmur of his course 1 \ His 
 eyes look wildly round | in search of his friend. | Conal | sonofColgar, | 
 where hast thou- been | when the mighty fell 1 | Did the seas of Cogorma 
 roll round thee 7 | Was the wind of the south in thy sails 1 \ The mighty 
 have fallen in battle, | and thou wast not there. ] Let none tell it in Sel- 
 ma, I nor in Morven's woody land. | Fingal will be sad, | and the sons 
 of the desert I mourn. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSONS IN PROSE. 
 Lesson Page 
 
 1. My Dog and my Shadow, _.---_- 13 
 
 2. The Honest Moravian, - - Thompson's Collection. 15 
 
 3. The Dervis, - - - - - - - Spectator. 15 
 
 4. The Old Lark and her Young Ones, ----- 16 
 
 5. Moderate Wishes the source of Happiness, - - _ 17 
 
 6. Affection to Parents Rewarded, ------ 19 
 
 7. The Golden Mean, - - 20 
 
 8. Against Religious Persecution, - -A Rabbinical Tale. 21 
 
 9. Story of Goffe, the Regicide, - - - - President Dioight. 22 
 
 10. The Affectionate Dog, - - - 23 
 
 11. The French Merchant, - - . - Child's Monitor. 25 
 
 12. Running for Life, __-_-_- -27 
 
 13. Charles 2d and William Penn, - - Priend of Peace. 30 
 
 14. The Ungrateful Guest, ----- Goldsmith. 32 
 
 15. Parental Tenderness, --------33 
 
 16. No Rank or Possessions can make the guilty mind happy, Cicero. 34 
 
 17. Beauty and Deformity, - - - - Percival's Tales. 35 
 
 18. The Discontented Pendulum, - _ - Jane Taylor. 36 
 
 19. Battle of Lexington, -___-_ Weems. 39 
 
 20. Battle of Bunker's Hill, - - _ - Charles Botta. 41 
 
 21. Application, ----------46 
 
 22. The Shortness of Life, 47 
 
 23. The Faithful Greyhound, . - - _ M. Ihcight. 4ft 
 
 24. Mortality, ------- Barbauld. 51 
 
 25. Immortality, - - - • - -_- - Barbauld. 52 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 26. The End of Perfection, - - - - Mrs. Sigourney. 53 
 
 27. The Two Bees, DodsUy. 55 
 
 28. Heroism of a Peasant, ------- 56 
 
 29. Biographical Sketch of Major Andre, - - - - 57 
 
 30. The Miracle— a German Parable, 60 
 
 31. The Compassionate Judge, __--.- 61 
 
 32. The Prudent Judge — an Eastern Tale, - Mass. Magazine. 62 
 35. Lion and Dog, ---------66 
 
 38. The Gentleman and his Tenant, - - _ _ _ 73 
 
 39. Dishonesty Punished, ----- Kane's Hints. 74 
 
 40. Socrates and Leander, __----. 74 
 
 41. Socrates and Demetrius, ------- 76 
 
 42. The Dead Horse, - Sierne. 77 
 
 43. Biographical Anecdotes, --------79 
 
 44. The Revenge of a Great Soul, - - - » - - 80 
 
 45. Death of Prince William, _ - - - Goldsmith,. 81 
 
 48. Naval Action, ---------86 
 
 49. Damon and Pythias, -------.90 
 
 50. Test of Goodness, 92 
 
 51. The Mysterious Stranger, ----- Jane Taylor. 93 
 
 52. Earthquake in Calabria, ----- Goldsmith. 98 
 
 53. The Starling, Sterne. 100 
 
 54. Alcander and Scptimius, ----- Goldsmith. 102 
 
 55. Ingratitude — Story of Inkle and Yarico, - - - - 104 
 
 60. Story of the Siege of Calais, - - - - - - 112 
 
 61. Examples of Decision of Character, - - John Foster. 116 
 
 62. Ortogrul: or, the Vanity of Riches, - - Dr. Johnson. 118 
 
 63. Schemes of Life often Illusory, - - - Dr. Johnson. 121 
 
 61. The Hill of Science, AiHn. 123 
 
 65. The Vision of Mirza, Spectator. 126 
 
 70. The Voyage of Life, Dr. Johnson. 137 
 
 71. The Journey of a Day — a picture of human life, Dr. Johnson. 140 
 
 75. Destruction of Jerusalem, ------- 148 
 
 76. Destruction of Jerusalem — concluded, - - - - 152 
 79. Address to the Sun, ---._- Osslan. 160 
 81 Formation of Character, - - - - J. Hawes, D. D. 162 
 82. On Happiness of Temper, ----- Goldsmith. 16-1 
 
 84. A Good Scholar, May. 168 
 
 85. Select Sentences, - - - - - - - - -170 
 
 86. Select Paragraphs, -------- 173 
 
 87. Happiness is founded in rectitude of conduct, - Hams. 177 
 
 88. Virtue and Piety man's highest interest, - -^ Harris. 178 
 
 89. Importance of Virtue, ------ Price. 179 
 
 90. The Folly of Inconsistent Expectations, - - Aikin. 180 
 
 91. On the Beauties of the Psalms, - - - - Home. 182 
 
 98. On tlie Irresolution of Youth, - - - - Goldsmith. 190 
 
 99. The Hero and the Sage, 193 
 
 100. The .Blind Preacher, - - - - - - Wirt. 194 
 
 101. Specimen of Welch Preaching, London Jewish Expositor. 196 
 
 102. Happiness, -_.--_- Lacon. 199 
 
 107. The Dervis and the Two Merchants, _ - - Lacon. 214 
 
 108. On the Present and Future State, - _ - Addison. 215 
 
 113. The Just Judge, 223 
 
 114. On Happiness, - - - -^ - - - Sterne. 226 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 XI 
 
 115. 
 
 116. 
 IVJ. 
 1-20. 
 1-25. 
 1-26. 
 127. 
 132. 
 133. 
 134. 
 138. 
 139. 
 110. 
 141. 
 14(3. 
 147. 
 149. 
 
 23. 
 33. 
 34. 
 45. 
 
 46. 
 
 47. 
 
 52. 
 
 56. 
 
 57. 
 
 58. 
 
 59. 
 
 6(». 
 
 67. 
 
 68. 
 
 69. 
 
 72. 
 
 73. 
 
 74. 
 
 77. 
 
 78. 
 
 80. 
 
 83. 
 
 92. 
 
 93. 
 
 94. 
 
 95. 
 
 96. 
 
 97. 
 104. 
 105. 
 106. 
 109. 
 110. 
 111. 
 
 On Sincerity, -_-.-_ Tillotson. 
 
 Story of Le Fevre, -_-_._ Sterne. 
 
 Speech of a Scythian Ambassador to Alexander, Q. CurLius. 
 
 Diogenes at the Isthmian Games, 
 
 The Nature of True Eloquence, - 
 
 The Perfect Orator, - - - 
 
 Rolla's Address to the Peruvians, 
 
 Character of William Pitt, 
 
 Characterof the Puritans, 
 
 Character of Washington, 
 
 Address to the Patriots of the Revolution, 
 
 Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis, _ _ _ 
 
 On Conciliation with America, _ . . - Bv.rke. 
 
 Speech on the Glucstion of ^Var with England, Patrick Henry 
 
 Hannibal to Scipio Africaiuis, -..._. 
 
 Scij)io's Reply to Hannibal, .._--- 
 
 Brutus Speech on the Death of Cesar, - - Shakspeare 
 
 D. Webster. 
 
 - " - Sheridan. 
 
 Sheridan. 
 
 Edinburgh Review. 
 
 Phillips. 
 
 D. Webster. 
 
 LESSONS IN POETRY, 
 
 Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound, 
 
 The Fox and the Cat, 
 
 Might makes Right, - - _ _ 
 
 He never smiled again, - - _ _ 
 
 The Shepherd and the Philosopher, 
 
 The Youth and the Philosopher, 
 
 The Wild Boy, - 
 
 The Battle of 'Blenheim, - 
 
 The Dog and the Fox, - 
 
 The Hare and tlie Tortoise, 
 
 W. Spencer. 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Smith. 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 - Whitehead. 
 Charles W. Thompson. 
 Souihey. 
 - - - Gay. 
 Lloyd, 
 Tlie Painter who pleased Nobody and Every Body, - Gay. 
 Tlip Chameleon, ---... Merrick. 
 The Countiy Bumpkin and Razor Seller, - P. Pindar. 
 The Gascon Peasant and the Flies, - - - - - 
 
 The Progress of Untruth, - . - - 
 The Mummy, ------- 
 
 The Negro's Complaint, - - - - 
 
 Victory, ----.---__ 
 
 The Wan'ior's Wreath, - - - - - 
 
 Elegy written in a Country Church Yard, - - Gray. 
 
 The African Chief, - - - U. S. Literary Gazette. 
 The Sleepers, . - - - Miss M. A. Browne. 
 
 Two Voices from the Grave, - - - Karamsin. 
 
 The Battle of Linden, ----- Campbell. 
 
 The Indian Chief, ---.__-_ 
 The Burial of Sir John Moore, - - - - Wolfe. 
 
 Boadicea, -------- Cowpe.r. 
 
 The Common Lot, ----- Montgomery. 
 
 The Philosopher's Scales, - - - - J. Tmilor. 
 
 Goody Blake and Harry Gill, - - - Wordsiiu)rth. 
 
 The Three Warnings, - - - _ Mrs. Thrale. 
 My Mother's Picture, ------ Coniprr. 
 
 Ode to Disappointment, - - Henry Kirke White. 
 
 What is Time, ----- 1 Manden. 
 
 228 
 230 
 244 
 
 245 
 254 
 254 
 255 
 
 267 
 268 
 271 
 275 
 277 
 278 
 280 
 288 
 290 
 293 
 
 49 
 64 
 65 
 82 
 83 
 85 
 99 
 106 
 108 
 109 
 110 
 130 
 132 
 134 
 136 
 143 
 145 
 147 
 1.56 
 156 
 161 
 167 
 183 
 185 
 186 
 187 
 188 
 189 
 205 
 208 
 211 
 218 
 219 
 220 
 
xu 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 112. 
 121. 
 122. 
 123. 
 12-1. 
 128. 
 129, 
 130. 
 131. 
 135. 
 136. 
 137. 
 142. 
 143. 
 144. 
 14.5. 
 148. 
 150. 
 151. 
 152. 
 153. 
 154. 
 155. 
 156. 
 157. 
 158. 
 159. 
 160. 
 161. 
 162. 
 163. 
 164. 
 165. 
 166. 
 167. 
 168. 
 169. 
 170. 
 171. 
 172. 
 173. 
 174. 
 175. 
 176. 
 177. 
 178. 
 
 Casablanca, Mrs. Hemans. 222 
 
 Diversity in the Human Character, . . - Pope. 247 
 
 On the Pursuits of Mankind, Pope. 249 
 
 The Road to Happiness open to all Men, - - Pope. 251 
 
 Providence Vindicated in tlie Present State of Man, Pope. 252 
 
 The Hennit, Bcattie. 256 
 
 The Marriner's Dream, ----- Viviond. 258 
 
 Alexander Selkirk, ------ Coxoper. 259 
 
 The Hermit, Parnell. 261 
 
 Stanzas addressed to the Greeks, - - - _ 272 
 
 Song of the Greeks, 1822, - - - - CampbcU. 273 
 
 Warren's Address to the American Soldiers, - Pierpont. 275 
 
 On the Existence of a Deity, - - - - Young. 283 
 
 To-morrow, -------- Cotton. 284 
 
 Vanity of Power and Misery of Kings, - Shakspeare. 285 
 
 Darkness, -- Byron. 286 
 
 Cassius instigating Erutus, - Tragedy of Julius Cesar. 291 
 
 Antony's Speech over the Body of Cesar, - Shakspeare. 294 
 
 Othello's Apology for his Marriage, - Tragedy of Othello. 296 
 
 Soliloquy of Hamlet on Death, - Tragedy of Hamlet. 298 
 
 Cato's Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul, Trag. of Cato. 299 
 
 Speech of Catiline before the Roman Senate, Crohfs Catiline. 300 
 
 The Rich Man and the Poor Man, - - khemnitzer. 301 
 
 Address to the Ocean, ----- Byron. 302 
 
 Wisdom, Pollok. 304 
 
 The Inhumanity of Slavery, - - - - Cowper. 305 
 
 The Cuckoo, __--___ Logan. 306 
 
 The Star of Bethlehem, - - - - J. G. Percival. 307 
 
 The Last Man, ------ Campbell. 308 
 
 Picture of a Good Man, - r '_ Z :. Young. 310 
 
 Hymn on a Review of the Seasons, - - Thomson. Sii 
 
 Gluestions and Answers, - - - - Montgomery . 313 
 
 On the death of Mrs. Mason, - - - - Mason. 314 
 
 Ode from the 19tli Psalm, ----- Addison. 315 
 
 Rest in Heaven, -------- 316 
 
 The Star of Betlilehem, - - - - H. K. Whit€. 316 
 
 Address to Time, ----- Lord Byron. 317 
 
 Absalom, - Willis. 319 
 
 The Miami Mounds, - - - - S. L. Fairfield. 322 
 
 On Time, H K. White. 323 
 
 Jugurtha in Prison, ----- Rev. C. Wolfe. 325 
 
 Rienzi's Address to tlie Romans, - - Miss Mitford. 328 
 
 Batde of Waterloo, Lord Byron. 330 
 
 Power of Eloquence, ------ Cary. 331 
 
 Death of Mai'co Bozzaris, - - - - - Halleck. 333 
 
 Dream of Clarence, ----- Shakspeare. 335 
 
 DIALOGUES. 
 
 36. Scene from tlie " Poor Gendeman," - - - - _ 
 
 37. Scene between Captain Tackle and Jack Bowlin, - - - 
 103. William Tell, Knotclcs. 
 
 117. Prince Henry and Falstaff, - - - - Shakspeare. 
 
 118. Prince Arthur and Hubert, - - - - Shakspeare. 
 
 67 
 
 70 
 
 201 
 
 237 
 
 241 
 
13 
 
 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON I. 
 My Dog and my Shadow. 
 
 1. In a solitary excursion through the woods, Major Halden 
 fell in with a man whose singular appearance attracted his at- 
 tention. He was sitting on the ground at the foot of a beech 
 tree, eating a crust of bread, which he shared bit by bit with 
 his dog. 
 
 2. His dress betrayed the utmost poverty, but his counte- 
 nance exliibited every symptom of cheerfulness. The Major 
 saluted Iiim as he rode past, and the man pulled ofl' his hat. 
 " Do you see ?" said he to his dog, laughing. " What could 
 tlie dog see?" asked the Major, whose curiosity was much ex- 
 cited by the man's happy looks. 
 
 3. The stranger laughed. " Aye," said the man, in a humor- 
 ous tone, *' I wish to make the dog take notice of your civility ; 
 it is so uncommon for a well-dressed person on horseback, to 
 lift his hat or cap to a tattered foot passenger like me." "Who 
 are you then?" said the Major to the man, looking at him 
 attentively. " A child of fortune." 
 
 4. "A child of fortune ! You mistake, without doubt; for 
 your coat seems to speak otherwise." " My coat is in the right, 
 sir. But as I can joke in this coat, — the only one I have, — it 
 is of as much value to me as a new one, even if it had a star* 
 upon it." "If what you say does not proceed from a disorder- 
 ed mind, you are in the right, countryman." 
 
 5. " A disordered mind, or a light mind, is sometimes the 
 gift of God, at least for children of fortune of my case. — My 
 fate once hung heavy on my mind like lead ; but care now 
 passes through it as the wind does through my coat, and if that 
 De a fault, it makes up for a great deal of misfortune." " But," 
 says the Major, "whence did you come, and whither are you 
 going?" ■ 
 
 ♦ Star, a badge of rank. 
 
 2 
 
14 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 6. " That question is not difficult to be answered, sir. I 
 came from my cradle, and I am now going straight forward to 
 my grave. With these two stages of my life I am well acquaint- 
 ed. In a word, I am endeavoring to soften my fate ; but I must 
 have something very engaging, for my dog and destiny remain 
 faithful to me ; and my shadow also, but like a false friend, 
 only when the sun shines. 
 
 7. " You shake your head, sir, as if you mean to say I have 
 made choice of bad company. I thought so at first, but there 
 is nothing so bad as not to be useful sometimes. My destiny 
 has made me humble, and taught me what I did not before 
 know, — that one cannot unhinge the world. My dog has 
 taught me there is still love and hdelity in it, and — you cannot 
 imagine what fine things one can talk with, and respecting, 
 one's shadow !" 
 
 8. " Respecting one's shadow ? that I do not understand." 
 " You shall hear, sir — at sunrise, when I am walking behind 
 my long towering shadow, what conversation I hold with it on 
 philosophical subjects. 
 
 9. "Look," say I, " dear shadow, art thou not like a youth, 
 when the sun of life is rising the earth seems too small ; just 
 when I Hft a leg, thou liftest another, as if thou wouldst step 
 over ten acres at once ; and yet when thou puttest down thy 
 leg, thy step is scarcely a span long. 
 
 10. " So fares it with youth. lie seems as if he would 
 destroy or create a world ; and yet, in the end, he does none of 
 those things which might have been expected from his discourse. 
 Let the sun now rise higher, and thou wilt become smaller as 
 the youth boasts less, the older he grows. 
 
 11. "Thus I compare, you see, the morning, noon, and 
 evening shadow, with a hundred things ; and the longer we 
 walk together, the better we get acquainted. At present I can 
 for.eofo many things M'hich I formerly considered indispensable 
 necessaries. 
 
 12. " The shadow is my watch and my servant. It is only 
 a pity, that a man cannot exist in his shadow, as his shadow 
 does in him." " Well, and what do you say in the evening to 
 your shadow ?" 
 
 13. " A man's shadow then is a very serious thing — the best 
 moralist. — When the shadow runs before one, still becoming 
 longer and less visible, as if already hiding its head in the 
 darkness of eternity, while behind one is the setting sun, and 
 before one a rising star — the shadow then seems to say, thou 
 art on the brink of eternity, — thy sun is going down, — but lose 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 15 
 
 not courage ; like me, thou wilt become always greater ; and 
 before thee is already suspended a better star — the first ray 
 of eternity beyond the grave." 
 
 14. With these words the man became serious, and the Major 
 alsoi. Both looked at each other in silence. " Come," said the 
 Major, " you must go with me, countryman." He took the 
 stranger by the hand, and conducted him to his house. 
 
 LESSON IL 
 The Honest Moravian, — Thompson's Collection. 
 
 1. During the last war in Germany, a captain of cavalry 
 was out on a foraging* party. On perceiving a cottage in the 
 midst of a solitary valley, he went up and knocked at the door. 
 Out came one of the Moravians, or United Brethren, with a 
 beardf silvered by age. 
 
 2. "Father," says the officer, " show me a field where I can 
 set my troopers a foraging." " Presently," replied the Mora- 
 vian. The good old man walked before, and conducted them 
 out of the valley. 
 
 3. After a quarter of an hour's march, they found a fine field 
 of barley. "There is the very thing we want," says the captain. 
 " Have patience for a few minutes," replied his guide ; " and 
 you shall be satisfied." 
 
 4. They went on, and at the distance of about a quarter of 
 a league farther, they arrived at another field of barley. The 
 troop immediately dismounted, cut doAvn the grain, trussed it 
 up and remounted. 
 
 5. The officer, upon this, says to his conductor, " Father, 
 you have given yourself and us unnecessary trouble : the first 
 field was much better than this." " Very true, sir," replied 
 the good old man, " but it was not mine." 
 
 LESSON HI. 
 The Dervis.X — Spectator. 
 
 1. A Dervis travelling through Tartary, II having arrived at 
 the town of Balk, went into the king's palace by mistake, as 
 thinking it to be a public inn, or caravansary. Having looked 
 
 * For-a ging, collecting food for horses. + Pronounced Beerd. 
 t Dervis, a Turkish Priest. U A country in Asia, 
 
16 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 about him for some time, he entered into a long gallery, where 
 he laid down his vv allet,* and spread his carpet, in order to re- 
 pose himself upon it after the manner of the eastern nations. 
 
 2. He had not been long in this posture before he was dis- 
 covered by some of the guards, wlio asked him " what was his 
 business in that place ?" The Dervis told them that he intended 
 to take up his night's lodging in that caravansary. The guards 
 let him know in a very angry manner, that tlie house he was 
 in, was not a caravansary, but the king's palace. 
 
 3. It happened that the king himself passed through the gal- 
 lery during this debate, and smiling at the mistake of the Dervis, 
 asked him how he could possibly be so dull as not to distinguish 
 a palace from a caravansary? "Sir," says the Dervis, "give me 
 leave to ask your majesty a question or two :" 
 
 4. " Who were tlie persons that lodged in this house when 
 it was first built?" The king replied, "my ancestors." "And 
 who," says the Dervis, "was the last person that lodged here?" 
 The king rejilicd, " my father." " And who is it," says the 
 Dervis, " that lodges here at present ?" The king told him, 
 that it was he liimself. 
 
 5. " And who," says the Dervis, " will be here after you ?" 
 The king answered, " tlie young prince, my son." "Ah, sir," 
 said the Dervis, " a house that changes its inhabitants so often, 
 and receives such a perpetual succession of guests, is not a 
 palace but a caravansary." 
 
 LESSON J V. 
 
 The Old Lark and her Young Ones. 
 
 \. Ax old lark had a nest of young ones in a field of wheat, 
 which was almost ripe, and she was not a little afraid that the 
 reapers would be set to work, before her young ones were large 
 enough to be able to remove from the place. 
 
 2. One morning, therefore, before she took her flight to seek 
 something to feed them with, "my dear little creatures," said 
 she, " be sure that in my absence you take tlie strictest notice 
 of every word you hear, and do not fail to tell ine of it, as soon 
 as I come home again." Some time after she was gone, in 
 came the owner of the field and his son. 
 
 3. "Well, George," said he, "this wheat, I think, is ripe 
 enough to be cut down ; so to-morrow morning, as soon as the 
 sun is up, go and desire our friends and neighbors to come and 
 
 * Wallet, a small hag, or knapsack. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 17 
 
 help ; and tell them, that we will do as much for them the first 
 time they want us." 
 
 4. When the old lark came back to her nest, the young ones 
 began to nestle and chirp about her, beg<^ing her to remove 
 t)icm as fast as she could. " Hush," said she, " hold your silly 
 tongues ; for, if the old farmer depends upon his friends and 
 his neighbors, you may take my word for it, that his wheat will 
 not be reaped to-iiiorrow." The next morning, therefore, she 
 went out again, and left the same orders as before. 
 
 5. The owner of the field came soon after to wait for those 
 to whom he had sent ; but the sun grew hot, and none of them 
 came to help him. "Why then," said he to his son, "our friends 
 have left us in the lurch, so you must run to your uncles and 
 your cousins, and tell them that I shall expect them to-morrow, 
 betimes, to help us reap." 
 
 6. This also the young ones told their mother, as soon as she 
 came home again. " Never mind it," said she to the little 
 birds ; " for if that is all, you may take my word for it, that 
 his brethren and his kinsmen will not be so forward to assist 
 him as he seems willing to persuade himself, But be sure to 
 mind," said she, " what you hear the next time ; and let me 
 know it without fail." 
 
 7. The old lark went abroad the next day as before ; but 
 when the poor farmer found that his kinsmen were full as back- 
 ward as his neighbors, " You perceive," said he to his son, 
 " that your uncles and cousins are no better than strangers ! 
 but hark ye, George, do you provide two good sickles against 
 to-morrow morning, arid we will reap the wheat ourselves.^* 
 
 8. When the young birds told the old bird this ; " Now," 
 said she, " we must be gone indeed ; for wlien a man resolves 
 to do his work himself, you may then be assured it will be 
 doney 
 
 LESSON V. 
 Moderate Wishes the source of Happiness. 
 
 \. The youthful shepherd Me-nal-cas, being in search of a 
 stray lamb from his flock, discovered in the recesses of the for- 
 est, a hunter stretched at the foot of a tree, exhausted with 
 fatigue and hunger. " Alas, shepherd !" he exclaimed, ** I 
 came hither yesterday in pursuit of game ; and have been 
 unable to retrace the path by which I entered this frightful sol- 
 itude, or to discover a single vestige of a human footstep. I 
 2* 
 
18 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 faint with hunger ; give me rehef, or I die !" Menalcas, support- 
 ing the stranger in his arms, fed him with bread from his scrip,* 
 and afterwards conducted him through the intricate mazes of 
 the forest in safety. 
 
 2. Menalcas being about to take leave of the hunter Eschi- 
 nus,t was detained by him. " Thou hast preserved my life, 
 shepherd, he said, and I will make thine happy. Follow me 
 to the city. Thou shalt no longer dwell in a miserable cottage, 
 but inhabit a superb palace, surrounded with lofty columns of 
 marble. Thou shalt drink high-flavored wines out of golden 
 goblets,! and eat the most costly viands from plates of silver." 
 
 3. Menalcas replied, "Why should I go to the city ! My 
 little cottage shelters me from the rain and the wind. It is not 
 surrounded with marble columns but with delicious fruit trees, 
 from which I gather my repasts ; and nothing can be more 
 pure than the water which I draw in my earthen pitcher from 
 the stream that runs by my door. Then on holidays I gather 
 roses and lilies to ornament my little table ; and those roses 
 and lilies are more beautiful, and smell sweeter, than vases of 
 gold and silver. , 
 
 Eschinus. Come witii me, shepherd, I will lead tliee through 
 sumptuous gardens, embellished wiih foimtains and statues ; 
 thou shalt behold women, whose dazzling beauties the rays of 
 the sun have never tarnished, habited in silks of the richest 
 hues, and sparkling witli jewels ; and tliou shalt hear concerts 
 of musicians whose transcendent skill will at once astonish and 
 enchant thee. 
 
 Menalcas. Our sun-burnt shepherdesses are very handsome. 
 How beautiful they look on holidays, Avhen they put on gar- 
 lands of fresh floAvers, and we dance under tlie shnde of our 
 trees, or retire to the woods to listen to the song of the birds! 
 Can your musicians sing more melodiously than our nightin- 
 gale, black-bird, and linnet ? No ; I will not go to the city. 
 
 Eschiiius. Then take this gold, and with it supply all thy 
 wants. 
 
 Menalcas. Gold is useless to me. My fruit-trees, my little 
 garden, and the milk of my goats supply all my wants. 
 
 Eschinus. How shall I recompense thy kindness, happy 
 shepherd ? What wilt thou accept from me ? 
 
 Menalcas. Give me only the horn that hangs to thy belt. 
 Horn is not easily broken; therefore, it will be more useful to 
 me than my earthen pitcher. 
 
 ♦ Scrip, a little bag. t Pronounced Es-ki-nus. t Goblet, a bowl, or cup. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 19 
 
 The hunter, with a smile, took the horn from his belt and 
 presented it to the sheplierd, who hastened back to his cottage, 
 tlie abode of contentment and happiness. 
 
 LESSON VI. 
 
 Affection to Parents rewarded. 
 
 L Frederick, the late king of Prussia, having rung his bell 
 one- day, and nobody answering, opened the door where his 
 servant was usually in waiting, and found him asleep on a sofa. 
 He was going to awake him, when he perceived the end of a 
 billet, or letter, hanging out of his pocket. 
 
 2. Having the curiosity to know its contents, he took and 
 read it, and found that it was a letter from his mother, thanking 
 him for having sent her a part of his wages, to assist her in her 
 distress, and concluding with beseeching God to bless him for 
 his filial attention to her wants. 
 
 3. The king returned softly to his room, took a roll of ducats,* 
 and slid them, witli tlie letter, into the page's pocket. Return- 
 ing to his apartment, he rung so violently, that the page awoke, 
 opened the door, and entered. 
 
 4 " You have slept well," said the king. The page made 
 an apology, and, in his embarrassment, happened to put his 
 hand into his pocket, and felt wdth astonishment the roll. He 
 drew it out, turned pale, and, looking at the king, burst into 
 tears, without being able to speak a word. 
 
 5. " What is the matter?" said the king; "what ails you?" 
 " Ah ! sire," said the young man, throwing himself at his feet, 
 -" somebody has wished to ruin me. I know not how I came 
 by this m.oney in my pocket." 
 
 6. " My friend," said Frederick, " God often sends us good 
 in our sleep : send the money to your mother ; salute her in 
 my name ; and assure her that I shall take care of her and 
 youy 
 
 7. This story furnishes an excellent instance of the gratitude 
 and duty which children owe to their aged, infirm, or unfortu- 
 nate parents. And, if the children of such parents follow the 
 example ol Frederick's servant, though they may not meet with 
 tlie reward that was conferred on him, they will be amply 
 
 * Ducat, a coin of SLvenl countries in Europe, struck in the dominions 
 of a duke. It is of silver, or gold. The silver ducat is generally of the value 
 of an American dollar ; and the gold ducat of twice the same value. 
 
20 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 recompensed by the pleasing- testimony of their own minds, and 
 by that God who approves, as he has commanded, every expres- 
 sion of fihal love. 
 
 LESSON VII. 
 The Golden Mean. 
 
 1. When the plains of India were burnt up by a long 
 drought,* Hamet and Selim, two neighboring shepherds, faint 
 with thirst, stood at the common boundary of the grounds, with 
 their flocks and herds panting round them, and in the extremity 
 of distress, prayed for water. 
 
 2. On a sudden, the air was becalmed, — the birds ceased to 
 chirp, — and the flocks to bleat. They turned their eyes every 
 way, and saw a being of mighty stature advancing through the 
 valley, whom they knew, on his nearer approach, to be the genius 
 of distribution. In one hand he held the sheaves of plenty, and 
 in the other the sabref of destruction. 
 
 3. The shepherds stood trembling, and would have retired 
 before him : but he called to them with a voice gentle as the 
 breeze that plays in the evening among the spices of Sabopa;;): 
 " Flee not from your benefactor, children of the dust! I am 
 come to offer you gifts, which only your own folly can make 
 vain. 
 
 4. "You here pray for water, and water I will bestow; let 
 me know with how much you will be satisfied ; speak not rash- 
 ly; <ionsiuer, that of whatever can be enjoyed by noho^y, excess 
 is no less dangerous than scarcity. When you remember the 
 pain of thirst, do not forget the danger of suflbcation. Now, 
 Hamet, tell me your retjuest. " 
 
 5. " O being! kind and beneficent," says Hamet, " let thine 
 eye pardon my confusion. I entreat a little brook, which in 
 summer shall never dry, and in winter shall never overflow." 
 
 6. " It is oranted," replied the genius ; and immediately he 
 opened the ground with his sabre, when a fountain, bubbling up 
 under their feet, scattered its rills over the meadows; the flow- 
 ers renewed their fragrance, — the trees spread a greener foliage 
 — and the flock? and herds quenched their thirst. 
 
 * PronounceJ drout, dryness, want of rain, or water. 
 + Pronounced saber, a short sword. 
 X Pronounced Sa-be-a. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 21 
 
 7. Then turning to Selim, the genius in\dted him likewise tn 
 offer his petition. " I request," says Selim, " that thou wilt 
 turn the Ganges through my grounds, with all its waters and 
 all its inhabitants." 
 
 8. Hamet was struck with the frreatness'of his neiffhbor'a 
 sentiments, and secretly repined in his heart that he liad not 
 made the same petition before him ; when the genius spoke : 
 " Rash man, be not insatiable ! Remember, to thee, that is 
 nothing, whicli thou canst not use : and how are thy wants 
 greater tlian the wants of Hamet?" 
 
 9. Selim repeated his desire, and pleased himself with the 
 mean appearance that Hamet would make in the presence of 
 the proprietor of the Ganges. The genius then retired towards 
 the river, and the two shepherds stood waiting the event. 
 
 10. As Selim was looking with contempt upon his neighbor, 
 on a sudden was heard the roar of torrents, and they found, bv 
 the mighty stream, that the mounds of the Ganges were broken. 
 The flood rolled forward into the lands of Selim, his plantations 
 were torn up, his flocks overwhelmed, he was swept away be- 
 fore it, and a crocodile devoured him. 
 
 LESSON VHL 
 
 Against Religious Persecution. — A Rabbinical Tale. 
 
 L And it ca,me to pass after these things, that Aram sat at 
 the door of his tent, about the going down of the sun. And 
 behold ! a man bent with age, coming from the way of the wil- 
 derness, leaning on a staft". And Aram arose, met him, and 
 said unto him, " Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and 
 tarry all night, and thou shalt aj-ise early in the morning, and 
 go on thy av ay." 
 
 2. And the man said, " Nay, for I will alnde under this tree." 
 But Aram pressed him greatly; so he turned, and they went 
 into the tent. And Aram baked unleavened bread, and thev 
 did eat. And v/hen Aram saw that the man blessed n(;t (Jod, 
 he said unto him, "Wherefore dost thou not worship the most 
 high God, Creator of Heaven and earth ?" 
 
 3. And the man answered and said, " 1 worship the God of 
 my fathers, in the way which they have appointed." And Aram's 
 zeal was kindled against the man, and he arose and fell upon 
 him, and drove him forth with blows into the wilderness. And 
 God called unto Aram, saying, " Aram, where is the stranger ?" 
 
22 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 4. And Aram answered and said, " Lord, he would not wor- 
 ship thee, neither w^oiild he call upon thy name, therefore have 
 I driven him out before m.y face into the wilderness." And God 
 said, " Have I borne wdth him these hundred and ninety years, 
 and nourished him, and clothed him, notwithstanding his rebel- 
 lion against me, and couldst not thou, who art thyself a sinner, 
 bear with him one night ?" 
 
 5. And Aram said, " Let not the anger of my Lord wax hot 
 against his servant ; lo, I have sinned, I pray thee, forgive m"e." 
 And Aram arose, and went forth into the wilderness, and sought 
 diligently for the man, and found him, and returned with him 
 to the tent, and when he had treated him kindly, he sent him 
 away on the morrow with gifts. 
 
 LESSON IX. 
 
 Story of Goffe, the Regicide* — President Dwight. 
 
 1. In the course of Philip's war, which involved almost all 
 the Indian tribes in New-England, and among others those in 
 the neighborhood of Hadley,t the inhabitants thought it proper 
 to observe the first of September, 1675, as a day oi' fasting and 
 prayer. 
 
 2. While they were in the church, and employed in their 
 worship, they were surprised by a band of savages. The 
 people instantly betook themselves to their arms, — wliich, ac- 
 cording to the custom of the times, they had carried with them 
 to the church, — and, rushing out of the house, attacked their 
 invaders. 
 
 3. The panic, under which they began the conflict, was, 
 however, so great, and their number was so disproportioned to 
 that of their enemies, that they fought doubtfully at tirst, and in 
 a short time began evidently to give way. 
 
 4. At this moment an ancient man, with hoary locks, of a 
 most venerable and dignified aspect, and in a dress widely dif- 
 fering from that of the inhabitants, appeared suddenly at their 
 head ; and, with a firm voice and an example of undaunted 
 resolution, reanimated their spirits, led them again to the con- 
 flict, and totally routed the savages. 
 
 * A regicide is one who puts a king to death. Goffe, Whalley, and Dix- 
 well, were three of the judfjes who condemned to death Cliarles I. king of 
 Great Britain, 1648. They afterwards fled to America. 
 
 t Hadley, a town in Massachusetts, on the east bank of Connecticut river, 
 91 miles west of Boston — 40 north of Hartford. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 23 
 
 5. When the battle was ended, the stranger disappeared ; 
 and no person knew whence he had come, or whither he had 
 gone. 
 
 6. The rehef was so timely, so sudden, so unexpected, and 
 so providential ; the appearance and the retreat of him who 
 furnished it were so unaccountable ; his person was so dignified 
 and commanding, his resolution so superior, and his interfer- 
 ence so decisive, that the inhabitants, without any uncommon 
 exercise of credulity, readily believed him to be an angel, sent 
 by heaven for their preservation. 
 
 7. Nor was this opinion seriously controverted, until it was 
 discovered, several years afterward, that Goffe* and Whalleyf 
 had been lodged in the house of Mr. Russell. Then it was 
 known that their deliverer was Goffe ; Whalley having become 
 superannuated^ some time before the event took place. 
 
 LESSON X. 
 The Affectionate Dog. 
 
 1. In the time of Robespierre, !| a revolutionary tribunal in 
 one of the departments of the north of France, condemned to 
 death an ancient and respectable m.agistrate, on suspicion of his 
 being guilty of a conspiracy. Immediately after the decree was 
 passed, he was committed to prison, where he saw his family 
 dispersed by a system of terror. 
 
 2. Some had taken flight ; others, themselves arrested, vv^ere 
 carried into distant jails ; his domestics were dismissed ; his 
 house was buried in tlie solitary of the seals ; his friends either 
 abandoned him or concealed themselves ; every thing in the 
 world was silent to him, except his dog. This faithful animal 
 had been refused admittance into the prison. He had returned 
 to his master's house and found it shut. He took refuge with 
 a neighbor, who received him ; but that posterity may judge 
 rightly of the times in which we have existed, it must bo added 
 that this man received him trembling, in secret, and dreading 
 lest his humanity for an animal, should conduct him to the scaf- 
 fold. 
 
 * Pronounced Goff. t Whal-le. 
 
 t Superannuated, to become feeble, or impaired by old age. 
 
 § Pronounced Rob-es-peer', a sanguinary tyrant of France, was bom at 
 Arras in 1759. At an early period of the French revolution, he became the 
 chief of tlie Jacobins — the leading party at that time, — and at length obtain- 
 ed the su})rcme command. A confederacy was foraied again.st him, and he 
 was arrested in the national assembly, and executed in July, 1794. 
 
24 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. Every day, at the same hour, the dog left the house, and 
 went to the door of the prison. He was refused admittance ; 
 but he constantly passed an hour before it, and then returned. 
 His fidelity, at length, gained upon the porter, and he was one 
 day allowed to enter. The dog saw his master. It was diffi- 
 cult to separate them ; but the jailer carried him away, and the 
 dog returned to his retreat. 
 
 4. He came back the next morning, and every day; and 
 once each day he was admitted. He licked the hand of his 
 friend, looked at him, licked his hand again, and went away of 
 himself. When the day of sentence arrived, notwithstandingr 
 the crowd, and the guard, he penetrated into the hall, anS 
 crouched himself at the feet of the unhappy man, whom he was 
 about to lose for ever. 
 
 5. They conducted him to the prison, and the dog for that 
 time did not visit the door. The fatal hour arrives ; — the pris- 
 on opens ; — the unfortunate man passes out; it is the dog that 
 receives him at the threshold. He clings upon his hand. Alas I 
 that hand will never be spread upon thy caressing head ! he fol- 
 lows him ; — the axe falls ; — the master dies ; — but the tender- 
 ness of the dog cannot cease. 
 
 6. The body is carried away, — he walks by its side ; — the 
 earth receives it; — he lays himself upon the grave. There he 
 passes tlic first night, the next day, and the second night. The 
 neighbor, in the mean time, unhappy at not seeing him, risks 
 himself, searcliing for the dog, guesses by the extent of his fidel- 
 ity the asylum he has chosen, — finds him, — caresses him, — 
 brings him back, and gives him food. 
 
 7. An hour afterwards the dog escaped, and regained his 
 favorite jdace. Three months passed away ; each morning he 
 came to seek his food, and then returned to the grave of his 
 master ; but each day he was more sad, more meagre, more 
 languishing, and it was plain that he was gradually reaching 
 his end. They endeavored, by chaining him up, to wean 
 him ; but you cannot triumph over nature ! He broke or bit 
 tlirough his bonds ; escaping, returned to the grave, and never 
 quitted it more ! It was in vain they endeavored to bring him 
 back. 
 
 8. They carried him food, but he ate no longer ! For four 
 and twenty hours he was seen employing his weakened limbs, 
 in digging up tlie earth that separated him from the remains of 
 the man he had so much loved. Passion gave him strength, 
 end he gradually approached the body ; his labour of aflx;ction 
 tlien vehemently increased ; his eflbrts became convulsive! ho 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 25 
 
 shrieked in his struggles ; his faithful heart gave way, and he 
 breathed out his last gasp, as if he knew that he had found his 
 master. 
 
 LESSON XL 
 
 The French Merchant. — Child's Monitor. 
 
 \. A French merchant, having some money due from a 
 correspondent,* set out on horseback, accompanied by his dog, 
 on purpose to receive it. Having settled the business to his 
 satisfaction, he tied the bag of money before him, and then set 
 off for home. His faithful dog, as if he entered into his master's 
 feelings, frisked round the horse, barked and jumped, and seem- 
 ed to participate in his joy. 
 
 2. The merchant, after riding some miles, alighted to repose 
 himself under an agreeable shade, and, taking the bag of money 
 in his hand, laid it down by his side under a hedge, and, on 
 remounting, forgot it. The dog perceived his lapse of recollec- 
 tion, and, wishing to rectify it, ran to fetch the bag ; but it was 
 too heavy for him to drag along. 
 
 3. He then ran to his master, and, by crying, barking, and 
 howling, endeavored to remind him of his mistake. The mer- 
 chant did not understand his language ; but the assiduous crea- 
 ture persevered in his efforts, and, after trying to stop the horse 
 in vain, at last began to bite his heels. 
 
 4. The merchant, absorbed in some revery, wholly overlook- 
 ed the real object of his affectionate attendant's importunity, 
 but awaked to the alarming apprehension that he was gone mad. 
 Full of this suspicion, in crossing a brook, he turned back to see 
 if the dog would drink. The animal was too intent on his mas- 
 ter's business to think of himself: he continued to bark and bite 
 with greater violence than before. 
 
 5. " Mercy !" cried the afflicted merchant ; " it must be so ; 
 my poor dog is certainly mad : what must I do ? I must kill 
 him, lest some greater misfortune befall me ; but with what 
 regret ! Oh, could I find some one to perform this cruel office 
 for me ! but there is no time to lose ; I myself may become 
 the victim if I spare him." 
 
 6. With these words, he drew a pistol from his pocket, and 
 with a trembling hand, took aim at his faithful servant, turning 
 
 ♦ Correspondent, one with whom an intercourse is carried on either by 
 
26 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 his face away in agony as he fired ; but his aim was too sure. 
 The poor animal fell wounded, and, weltering in his blood, still 
 endeavored to crawl toward his master, as if to tax him with 
 ingratitude. 
 
 7. The merchant could not bear the sight ; he spurred on 
 his horse, with a heart full of sorrow, and lamented that he had 
 taken a journey which had cost him so dear. Still, however, 
 the money never entered his mind; he thought only of his poor 
 dog, and tried to console himself with the reflection, that he had 
 prevented a greater evil, by despatching a mad animal, than he 
 had suffered by his loss. 
 
 8. This opiate to his wounded spirit was ineffectual : " I am 
 most unfortunate," said he to himself; "I would almost rather 
 have lost my money than my dog." Saying this, he stretched 
 out his hand to grasp his treasure. It was missing ; no bag was 
 to be found. 
 
 9. In an instant, he opened his eyes to his rashness and his 
 folly. " Wretch that I am ! I alone am to blame. I could not 
 comprehend the admonition which my innocent and most faith- 
 ful friend gave me, and I have sacrificed him for his zeal. He 
 wished only to inform me of my mistake, and he has paid for 
 his fidelity with his life." 
 
 10. He instantly turned his horse, and went off at full gallop 
 to the place where he had stopped. He saw, with half-averted 
 eyes, the scene where the tragedy was acted ; lie perceived the 
 traces of blood as he proceeded ; he was oppressed and dis- 
 tracted ; but in vain did he look for his dog — he was not to be 
 seen on the road. 
 
 11. At last, he arrived at the spot where he had alighted. — 
 But what were his sensations ! His heart was ready to bleed ; 
 he raved in the madness of despair. The poor dog, unable to 
 follow his dear, but cruel master, had determined to consecrate 
 his last moments to his service. He had crawled, all bloody 
 as he was, to the forgotten bag, and, in the agonies of death, 
 he lay watching beside it. 
 
 12. When he saw his master, he still testified his joy, by the 
 wagging of his tail — he could do no more — he tried to rise, 
 but his strength was gone. The vital tide was ebbing fast ; 
 even the caresses of his master could not prolong his life for 
 a few moments. 
 
 13. He stretched out his tongue to lick the hand that was 
 now fondling him in the agonies of regret, as if to seal forgive- 
 ness for the deed that had deprived him of life. He then cast 
 a look of kindness on his master, and closed his eyes for ever 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 2t 
 
 LESSON XIL 
 
 Running' for Life, 
 
 L Colter came to St. Louis* in May, 1810, in a small 
 canoe, from the head waters of the Missouri, a distance of 3000 
 miles, which he traversed in 30 days. I saw him, on his arri- 
 val, and received from him an account of his adventures, after 
 he had separated from Lewis and Clark's party ; one of these, 
 for its singularity, I shall relate. 
 
 2. On the arrival of the party at the head waters of the Mis- 
 souri, Colter, observing an appearance of abundance of beaverf 
 being there, got permission to remain and hunt for some time, 
 which he did in company with a man of the name of Dixon, 
 who had traversed the immense tract of country from St. Louis 
 to the head waters of the Missouri alone. 
 
 3. Soon after, he separated from Dixon, and trapped in com- 
 pany with a hunter named Potts ; and aware of the hostility of 
 the Blackfoot Indians, one of whom had been killed by Lewis, 
 they set their traps at night, and took them up early in the 
 morning, remaining concealed during the day. 
 
 4. They were examining their traps early one morning, in a 
 creek about six miles from that branch of the Missouri called 
 Jefferson's Fork, and were ascending in a canoe, when they 
 suddenly heard a great noise, resembling the trampling of ani- 
 mals ; but they could not ascertain the fact, as the high perpen- 
 dicular banks on each side of the river impeded their view. 
 
 5. Colter immediately pronounced it to be occasioned by 
 Indians, and advised an instant retreat, but was accused of 
 cowardice by Potts, who insisted that the noise was caused by 
 buffaloes, and they proceeded on. 
 
 6. In a few minutes afterwards, their doubts were removed 
 by a party of Indians making their appearance on both sides of 
 the creek, to the amount of five or six hundred, who beckoned 
 them to come ashore. 
 
 7. As retreat was now impossible. Colter turned the head of 
 the canoe ; and, at the moment of its touching, an Indian seized 
 the rifle belonging to Potts ; but Colter, who is a remarkably 
 strong man, immediately retook it, and handed it to Potts, who 
 remained in the canoe, and, on receiving it, pushed off into the 
 river. 
 
 * St. Louis, a city in Missouri, situated on the Mississippi river, 
 t Beaver, an amphibious animal, valuable for its fur, and remarkable for 
 its ingenuity in constructing its lodges or habitations. 
 
28 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 8. He had scarcely quitted the shore, when an arrow was shot 
 at him, and he cried out, " Colter, I am wounded !" Colter 
 remonstrated with him on the folly of attempting to escape, and 
 urged him to come ashore. Instead of complying-, he instantly 
 levelled his rifle at the Indian, and shot him dead on the spot. 
 
 9. This conduct, situated as he was, may appear to have been 
 an act of madness, but it was doubtless the effect of sudden but 
 sound reasoning ; for, if taken alive, he must have expected to 
 be tortured to death, according to their custom. He was in- 
 stantly pierced with arrows so numerous, that, to use Colter's 
 words, " He was made a riddle of.'*'' 
 
 10. They now seized Colter, stripped him entirely naked, 
 and began to consult on the manner in which he should be put 
 to death. They were at first inclined to set him up as a mark 
 to shoot at, but the chief interfered, and, seizing him by the 
 shoulder, asked him if he could run fast. ^ 
 
 11. Colter, who had been some time amongst the Keekatso 
 or Crow Indians, had in a considerable degree acquired the 
 Blackfoot language, and was also well acquainted with Indian 
 customs ; he knew that he had now to run for his life, with the 
 dreadful odds of five or six hundred against him, and those, 
 armed Indians ; he therefore cunningly replied, that he was a 
 very bad runner, although he was considered by the hunters as 
 remarkably swift. 
 
 12. The chief now commanded the party to remain station- 
 ary, and led Colter out on the prairie,* three or four hundred 
 yards, and released him, bidding him save himself if he could. 
 At this instant the horrid war-hoopt sounded in the ears of 
 poor Colter, who, urged with the hope of preserving his life, 
 ran "vvith a speed at which himself was surprised. 
 
 13. He proceeded towards the Jefferson Fork, having to 
 traverse a plain, six miles in breadth, abounding with the prick- 
 ly pear, on which he was every instant treading with his naked 
 feet. 
 
 14. He ran nearly half way across the plain before he ven- 
 tured to look over his shoulder, when he perceived that the 
 Indians were very much scattered ; and that he had gained 
 ground to a considerable distance from the main body ; but one 
 Indian, who carried a spear, was much before all the rest, and 
 not more than one hundred yards from him. 
 
 ♦ Pronounced pra-re, an extensive tract of land, mostly level, destitute of 
 trees, and covered with tall coarse grass. They are numerous in the western 
 states and territories, and frequently extend farther than the eye can see. 
 
 t War-hoop, the savage yell of war. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 29 
 
 15. A faint gleam of hope now cheered the heart of Colter : 
 he derived confidence from the belief that escape was within 
 the bounds of possibility ; but that confidence was nearly fatal to 
 him ; for he exerted himself to such a degree, that the blood 
 gushed from his nostrils, and soon almost covered the fore part 
 of his body. 
 
 16. He had now arrived within a mile of the river, when he 
 distinctly heard the appalling sound of footsteps behind him, 
 and every instant expected to feel the spear of his pursuer. 
 Again he turned his head, and saw the savage not twenty yards 
 from him. 
 
 17. Determined, if possible, to avoid the expected blow, he 
 suddenly stopped — turned round — and spread out his arms. 
 The Indian, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and per- 
 haps by the bloody appearance of Colter, also attempted to stop 
 — but, exhausted with running, he fell, whilst endeavoring to 
 throw his spear, which stuck in the ground and broke. 
 
 18. Colter instantly snatched up the pointed part, with 
 which he pinned him to the earth, and then continued his flight. 
 The foremost of the Indians, arriving at the place, stopped till 
 others came up to join them, when they set up a hideous yell. 
 
 19. Every moment of this time was improved by Colter ; 
 who, although fainting and exhausted, succeeded in gaining the 
 skirting of the cotton-tree wood, on the borders of the Fork, 
 through which he ran, and plunged into the river. 
 
 20. Fortunately for him, a little below this place was an 
 island, against the upper part of which, a raft of drift timber had 
 lodged. He dived under the raft, and after several eftbrts, got 
 his head above water amongst the trunks of trees, covered over 
 with smaller wood to the depth of several feet. 
 
 21. Scarcely had he secured himself, when the Indians arriv- 
 ed on the river, screeching and yelling like so many fiends.* — 
 They were frequently on the raft, during the day, and were 
 seen through the chinks by Colter, who was congratulating 
 himself on his escape, until the idea arose that they might set 
 the raft on fire. 
 
 22. In horrible suspense he remained until night, when, 
 hearing no more of the Indians, he dived under the raft, and 
 swam silently down the river, to a considerable distance, where 
 he landed, and travelled all night. After seven days' tedious 
 journeying, he arrived at Lisa's Fort, on the Yellow Stone. 
 
 ♦ Pronounced feends, evil spirits. 
 
 3* 
 
30 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON xm. 
 
 Charles II* and William Penn.] — Friend of Peace. 
 
 When William Penn was about to sail from England foi 
 Pennsylvania, he went to take his leave of the King, and the 
 following- conversation occurred : 
 
 " Well, friend William," said Charles, " I have sold you a 
 noble province in North America ; but still I suppose you have 
 no thoughts of going thither yourself." 
 
 " Yes, I have," replied William, " and I am just come to 
 bid thee farewell." 
 
 " What ! venture yourself among the savages of North 
 America ! Why, man, what security have you that you will 
 not be in their war-kettle in two hours after setting foot on their 
 shores ?" 
 
 " The best security in the world," replied Penn. 
 
 " I doubt that, friend William ; I have no idea of any secu- 
 rity against those cannibals, but in a regiment of good soldiers, 
 with their muskets and bayonets. And mind I tell you before 
 hand, that, with all my good will for you and your family, to 
 whom I am under obligations, Twill not send a single soldier 
 with you." 
 
 " I want none of thy soldiers," answered William, "I depend 
 on something better than thy soldiers." 
 
 The king wished to know what that was. 
 
 "Why, I depend upon themselves — on their own mora/ 5^7? .96 
 — even on that grace of God which bringeth salvation, and 
 w^hich hath appeared unto all men." 
 
 " I fear, friend William, that grace has never appeared to the 
 Indians of North America." 
 
 " Why not to them as well as all others ?" 
 
 " If it had appeared to them," said the king, " they would 
 hardly have treated my subjects so barbarously as they have 
 done." 
 
 " That is no proof to the contrary, friend Charles. Thy 
 subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects tirst went to 
 North America, they found these poor people the fondest and 
 kindest creatures in the world. Every day they would watch 
 
 * Charles II. King of England, A. D. I6G0, and reigned 25 years. 
 
 t William Penn, a celebrated quaker, or friend, was born in London, in 
 1644. He established the colony of Pennsylvania, and from him the state 
 derives its name. He died at Rushcomb, in England, 1718. The character 
 of Penn is truly amiable, benevolent, and humane, and his labours were 
 ever devoted to the benefit of mankind. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 31 
 
 for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast 
 them on their best fish and venison and corn, which was all 
 that they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as 
 we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their 
 country and rich hunting grounds, for farms for themselves ! 
 Now, is it to be wondered at, that these much injured people 
 should have been driven to desperation by such injustice ; and 
 that, burning with revenge, they should have committed some 
 excesses?" 
 
 *' Well, then, I hope, friend William, you will not complain 
 when they come to treat you in the same manner." 
 " I am not afraid of it," said Penn. 
 
 "Aye ! how will you avoid it ? You mean to get their hunt- 
 ing grounds too, I suppose ?" 
 
 "Yes, but not by driving these poor people away from them." 
 " No, indeed ! How then ^vill you get the lands ?" 
 " I mean to buy their lands of them." 
 
 " Buy their lands of them ! why, man, you have already 
 bought them of me." 
 
 " Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate too ; but I did it 
 only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any 
 right to their lands." 
 
 " Zounds, man ! no right to their lands !" 
 " No, friend Charles, no right at all : — What right hast thou 
 to their lands ?" 
 
 " Why, the right of discover]); the right which the Pope and 
 all Christian Kinffs have ao^reed to o-ive one another." 
 
 " The right of discovery ! a strange kind of right indeed. — 
 Now suppose, friend Charles, some canoe loads of these Indians, 
 crossing the sea, and discovering thy Island of Great Britain, 
 were to claim it as their own, and set it up for sale over thy head, 
 wliat wouldst thou think of it ?" 
 
 " Why — why — why," (replied Charles,) " I must confess I 
 should think it a piece of great impudence in them." 
 
 " Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Christian 
 PRINCE too, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in these 
 people whom thou callest savages ? Yes, friend Charles, and 
 suppose again that these Indians, on thy refusal to give up thy 
 Island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and having 
 weapons more destructive than thine, were to destroy many of 
 thy subjects, and to drive the rest away, wouldst thou not think 
 it horribly cruel ?" 
 
 The King assenting to this with strong marks of conviction, 
 William proceeded — " Well, then, friend Charles, how can I, 
 
32 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 who call myself a Christian, do what I should abhor even in 
 heathens ? No, I will not do it — But I will buy the ri^ht of the 
 proper owners, even of the Indians themselves. By doing this 
 I shall imitate God himself, in his justice and mercy, and there- 
 by insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live to 
 plant one in North America." 
 
 LESSON XIV. 
 The Ungrateful Guest. — Goldsmith. 
 
 1. Philip,* king of Macedon,t is celebrated for an act of 
 private justice, which does great honor to his memory. A cer- 
 tain soldier, in the Macedonian army, had, in various instances, 
 distinguished himself by extraordinary acts of valor ; and had 
 received many marks of Philip's approbation and favor. 
 
 2. On a particular occasion, this soldier embarked on board 
 a vessel, which Avas wrecked by a violent storm ; and he was 
 cast on the shore, helpless and naked, with scarcely any ap- 
 pearance of life. A Macedonian, whose lands were contiguous 
 to the sea, came opportunely to be witness of his distress; and, 
 with the most humane and charitable tenderness, flew to the 
 relief of the unhappy stranger. 
 
 3. He bore him to his house, laid him on his own bed, revi- 
 ved — cherished — and comforted him ; and for forty days, sup- 
 plied him freely with all the necessaries and conveniences 
 which his languishing condition could require. 
 
 4. The soldier, thus happily rescued from death, was inces- 
 sant in the wannest expressions of gratitude to his benefactor ; 
 assured him of his interest with the king ; and of his determin- 
 ation to obtain for him, from the royal bounty, the noble returns 
 which such extraordinary benevolence had merited. He was al 
 length completely recovered; and was supplied by his kind 
 host with money to pursue his journey. 
 
 5. After some time, the soldier presented himself before the 
 king : he recounted his misfortunes ; he magnified his services ; 
 and this inhuman wretch, who had looked with an eye of envy 
 on the possessions of the man by whom his life had been pre- 
 
 * Philip became king of Macedon,3G0 B. C. He was a brave, artful and 
 ambitious man. He aspired to the sovereignty of Greece, but was assassin- 
 ated by Pausanias, 336 B. C, while meditating the conquest of Persia, at 
 tlie head of the Grecian forces. He was succeeded by his son, Alexander 
 the Great. 
 
 + Macedon, an ancient kingdom in the northern part of Greece, now em- 
 braced in Turkey in Europe. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 33 
 
 served was so devoid of gratitude, and of every human senti- 
 ment, as to request that the king would bestow upon him the 
 house and lands, where he had been so tenderly and kindly 
 entertained. 
 
 6. Unhappily, Philip, without examination, precipitately 
 granted his infamous request. The soldier then returned to 
 his preserver ; and repaid his goodness by driving him from 
 his settlement, and taking immediate possession of all the fruits 
 of his honest industry. 
 
 7. The poor man, stung with such an instance of unparalleled 
 ingratitude and insensibility, boldly determined, instead of sub- 
 mitting to his wrongs, to seek relief: and in a letter addressed 
 to Philip, represented his own and the soldier's conduct in a 
 lively and affecting manner. 
 
 8. The king was instantly fired with indignation. He order- 
 ed that ample justice should be done without delay ; that the 
 possessions should be immediately restored to the man whose 
 charitable offices had been thus horribly repaid ; and, to show 
 his abhorrence of the deed, he caused the soldier to be seized, 
 and to have these words branded on his forehead — " The 
 Ungrateful Guest." 
 
 LESSON XV. 
 
 Parental Tenderness. 
 
 1. During the Indian wars which preceded the American 
 revolution, a young English officer was closely pursued by two 
 savages, who were on the point of killing him, when an aged 
 chief interfered, took the officer by the hand, encouraged him 
 by his caresses, conducted him to his hut, and treated him with 
 all the kindness in his power. 
 
 2. The officer remained during the winter Avith the old chief, 
 who taught him their language, and the simple arts with which 
 they were acquainted. But when spring returned, the savages 
 again took up arms, and prepared fora more vigorous campaign. 
 The old chief followed the young warriors until they approach- 
 ed the English camp, when, turning to the young officer, he 
 thus addressed him : 
 
 3. " You see your brethren preparing to give us battle ; I 
 have saved thy life — I have taught thee to make a canoe, a bow 
 and arrows — to surprise the beasts of the forest — and to scalp 
 ■» our enemv ; wilt thou now be so ungrateful as to join thv 
 
34 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR.] 
 
 countrymen, and take up the hatchet against us ?" The Eng- 
 lishman declared that he would sooner perish himself than shed 
 the blood of an Indian. 
 
 4. The old savage covered his face ^vith both his hands, and 
 bowed down his head. After remaining some time in this atti- 
 tude, he looked at the young officer, and said in a tone of min- 
 gled tenderness and grief, " Hast thou a father V " He was 
 living," said the young man, " when I left my native country." 
 " O how unhappy must he be," said the savage. 
 
 5. After a moment's silence, he added, " I have been a father, 
 but I am one no longer ; I saw my son fall by my side in battle. 
 But I have avenged him ; yes, I have avenged him," said he with 
 emphasis, while he endeavored to suppress the groans which 
 escaped in spite of him. He calmed his emotions, and turning 
 towards the east, where the sun was rising, he said, " dost thou 
 behold the heavens with pleasure ?" " I do," responded the 
 young man. " / do no longer," said the savage, bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 6. A moment after, he added, " do you look with delight 
 upon yonder beautiful flower ?" '• I do," answered the young 
 man. "/do no longer," said the savage; and immediately 
 added, " Depart to thine own country, that thy father may still 
 view the rising sun with pleasure, and take delight in the flowers 
 of spring." 
 
 LESSON XVI. 
 
 No Rank or Possessions can make the guilty mind happy. — 
 
 Cicero. 
 
 1. DioNYSius,* the tyrant of Sicily,! was far from being 
 happy, though he possessed great riches, and all the pleasures 
 which wealth and power could procure. Damocles,| one of 
 his flatterers, deceived by those specious appearances of happi- 
 ness, took occasion to compliment him on the extent of his 
 power, his treasures, and royal magnificence : and declared that 
 no monarch had ever been greater or happier than Dionysius. 
 
 2. " Hast thou a mind, Damocles," says the king, " to taste 
 this happiness ; and to know, by experience, what the enjoy- 
 ments are, of which thou hast so high an idea ?" Damocles, 
 
 * Pronounced Di-on-ish'-e-us. He raised himself from obscurity to the 
 throne — reigned forty years — and died 366 B.C., and was succeeded by his 
 son, Dionysius II. 
 
 t Sicily, an island in the Mediterranean, south of Italy. 
 
 % Pronounced Dam'-o-cles. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 35 
 
 with joy, accepted the offer. The King ordered that a royal 
 banquet should be prepared, and a gilded sofa, covered wdth 
 rich embroidery, placed for his favorite. Side-boards, loaded 
 with gold and silver-plate of immense value, were arranged in 
 the apartment. 
 
 3. Pages* of extraordinary beauty were ordered to attend 
 his table, and to obey his commands with the utmost readiness 
 and the most profound submission. Fragrant ointments, chap- 
 lets of flowers, and rich perfumes, were added to the entertain- 
 ment. The table was loaded with the most exquisite delicacies 
 of every kind. Damocles, intoxicated with pleasure, fancied 
 himself amongst superior beings. 
 
 4. But in the midst of all this happiness, as he lay indulging 
 himself in state, he sees let down from the ceiling, exactly over 
 his head, a glittering swordf hung by a single hair. The sight 
 of impending destruction put a speedy end to his joy and revel- 
 ling. The pomp of his attendance, the glitter of the carved 
 plate, and the delicacy of the viands, cease to afford him any 
 pleasure. 
 
 5. He dreads to stretch forth his hand to the table. — He 
 throws off the garlandj of roses. He hastens to remove from 
 his dangerous situation; and earnestly entreats the king to 
 restore him to his former humble condition, having no desire to 
 enjoy any longer a happiness so terrible. 
 
 6. By this device, Dionysius intimated to Damocles, how 
 miserable he was in the midst of all his treasures ; and in pos- 
 session of all the honors and enjoyments which royalty could 
 bestow. 
 
 LESSON xvn. 
 
 Beauty and Deformity. — Percival's Tales. 
 
 1. A YOUTH, who lived in the country, and who had not 
 acquired, either by reading or conversation, any knowledge of 
 the animals which' inhabit foreign regions, came to Manchester, 
 to see an exhibition of wild beasts. The size and figure of the 
 elephant struck him with awe ; and he viewed the rhinoceros 
 with astonishment. 
 
 2. But his attention was soon drawn from these animals, and 
 directed to another, of the most elegant and beautiful form ; 
 
 * Page, a boy attending on a person of distinction, rather for formality, or 
 Bhow, than for servitude, 
 t Pronounced sord. X Garland, a wreath, or band of flowers. 
 
36 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 and he stood contemplating with silent admiration the glossy 
 smoothness of his hair, the blackness and regularity of the 
 streaks with which he was marked, the symmetry of his limbs, 
 and above all, the placid sweetness of his countenance. 
 
 3. "What is the name of this lovely animal," said he to the 
 keeper, "which you have placed near one of the ugliest beasts 
 in your collection ; as if you meant to contrast beauty with de- 
 formity ?" " Beware, young man," replied the intelligent keeper, 
 " of being so easily captivated with external appearance. 
 
 4. " The animal which you admire is called a tiger ; and 
 notwithstanding the meekness of his looks, he is fierce and sav- 
 age beyond description : I can neither terrify him by correc- 
 tion, nor tame him by indulgence. But the other beast, which 
 you despise, is in the highest degree docile, affectionate, and 
 useful. 
 
 5. " For the benefit of man, he traverses the sandy deserts 
 of Arabia,* where drink and pasture are seldom to be found ; 
 and will continue six or seven days without sustenance, yet still 
 patient of labor. His hair is manufactured into clothing ; his 
 flesh is deemed wholesome nourishment ; and the milk of the 
 female is much valued by the Arabs. 
 
 6. " The camel, therefore, for such is the name given to 
 this animal, is more worthy of your admiration than the tiger ; 
 notwithstanding the inelegance of his make, and the two bunch- 
 es upon his back. For mere external beauty is of little esti- 
 mation ; and deformity, when associated with amiable disposi- 
 tions and useful qualities, does not preclude our respect and 
 approbation." 
 
 LESSON XVIIL 
 
 The Discontented Pendulum. — Jane Taylor. 
 
 \. An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's 
 kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early 
 one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, sudden- 
 ly stopped. 
 
 2. Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) 
 changed countenance with alarm ; the hands made a vain effort 
 to continue their course ; the wheels remained motionless with 
 surprise ; the weights hung speechless ; each member felt dis- 
 posed to lay the blame on the others. 
 
 * Arabia, an extensive countr}' in the south-west of Asia ; the inhabitants 
 are a wandering people, called Arabs. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 37 
 
 3. At length, the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the 
 cause of the stagnation — when hands, wheels, weights, with 
 one voice, protested their innocence. 
 
 4. But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, 
 who thus spoke : — "I confess myself to be the sole cause of the 
 present stoppage; and I am willing, for the general satisfaction, 
 to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." 
 Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged, that it was 
 on the very point of strikiiig. 
 
 5. "Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial- plate, holding up its 
 hands. "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 hav6 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 to \vag backwards and 
 forwards year after year, as I do." 
 
 6. "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window in 
 your house, on purpose for you to look through?" — "For all 
 that," resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark here; and, 
 although there is a window,! dare not stop, even for an instant, 
 to look out at it. Besides, I am really tired of my way of life; 
 and if you wish, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my 
 employment. I happened this morning to be calculating how 
 many times I should have to tick in the course of only the next 
 twenty-four hours ; perhaps some of you, above there, can give 
 me the exact sum." 
 
 7. The minute hand, being q7iick at figures, presently repli- 
 ed, "Eighty-six thousand four hundred times." "Exactly so," 
 replied the pendulum. "Well, I appeal to you all, if the very 
 thought of this w^as 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." 
 
 8. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this 
 harangue; but resuming its gra^dty, thus replied: "Dear Mr. 
 Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious 
 person as yourself, should have been overcome by this sudden 
 action. It is true, you have done a great deal of work in your 
 time ; so have we all, and are likely to do ; which although it 
 may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue 
 
 4 
 
38 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 us to do. Would you now do me the favor to give about half 
 a dozen strokes to illustrate my argument?" 
 
 9. The pendulum complied, and ticked six times in its usual 
 pace. " Now," resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to inquire 
 if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagreeable to you?" 
 "Not in the least," replied the pendulum, "it is not of six 
 strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions. " 
 
 10. "Very good," replied the dial; "but recollect, that 
 though you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you 
 are required to execute but one; and that, however often you 
 may hereafter have to swing, a; moment will always be given 
 you to swing in." " That 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 if we stand idlinor thus." 
 
 11. Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused of 
 light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; 
 when, as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands 
 began to move, the pendulum began to swing, and to its credit, 
 ticked as loud as ever; while a red beam of the rising sun that 
 streamed through a hole in the kitchen, shining full upon the 
 dial-plate, it brightened up, as if nothinjj had been the matter. 
 
 12. 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 niorlit. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 13. A celebrated modern writer says, "Take care of the 
 minutes^ and the hours will take care of themselves." This is 
 an admirable remark, and might be very seasonably recollected 
 when we Ijcgin to be " weary in well-doing," from the thought 
 of having much to do. 
 
 14. The present moment is all we have to do with, in any 
 sense; the past is irrecoverable, the future is uncertain; nor is 
 it fair, to burden one moment with the weight of the next. — 
 Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof 
 
 15. If we had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have 
 to take but one step at a time, and this process continued, would 
 infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Faliirue generally 
 begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a minute the 
 exertion of hours. 
 
 16. Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect 
 that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its suffer- 
 ings, or encounter all its crosses, at once. One moment comes 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 3^ 
 
 laden with its own little burdens, then flies, and is succeeded by 
 another no heavier than the last: — if one could be borne, so can 
 another and another. 
 
 17. Even 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. 
 
 18. Let any one resolve always to do right now^ leaving then 
 to do as it can ; and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, 
 he would never do Avrong. But the common error is to resolve 
 to act right after breakfast, or after dinner, or to-morrow morn- 
 ing, or next time; but now, just 7iow, this once, we must go on 
 the same as ever. 
 
 19. It is easy, for instance, for the most ill-tempered person 
 to resolve that the next time he is provoked, he will not let his 
 temper overcome him ; but the victory would be to ©ubdue tem- 
 per on the present provocation. If, without taking up the bur- 
 den of the future, wc would always make the single effort at the 
 present moment; while there would, at any one time, be very 
 little to do, yet, by this simple process continued, everything 
 would at last be done. 
 
 20. Itseemseasier 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 fulfils. It is not thus with those, who, " by 
 patient continuance inwell-doirig, seek for glory, honor, and 
 immortality." 
 
 21. Day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appoint- 
 ed task, to which the requisite measure of time and strength is 
 proportioned ; and thus, having worked while it was called day, 
 the)' at length rest from their labors, and their works " follow 
 them." Let us, then, " whatever our hands find to do, do it 
 with all our might, recollecting that noiu is the proper and 
 accepted time." 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 
 Battle of Lexington* — Weems. 
 
 1. April the 19th, 1775, was the fatal day marked out by 
 mysterious heaven, for tearing away the stout infant colonies 
 
 ♦Lexington, a town in Massachusetts, 11 miles N. W. of Boston, 
 
40 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 from the old mother country. Early that morning;, General 
 Gage,* whose force in Boston was augmented to 10,000 men, 
 sent a detachment of 1,000 to destroy some military stores 
 which the Americans had collected in the town of Concord, 
 near Lexington. 
 
 2. On coming to the place, they found the town militia assem- 
 bled on the green near the road. " Throw down your arms, and 
 disperse., you rebels,'''' was the cry of the British officer, (Pit- 
 cairn,) which was immediately followed by a general discharge 
 from the soldiers ; whereby eight of the Americans were killed, 
 and several wounded. 
 
 3. The provincials! retired. But finding that the British still 
 continued their fire, they returned it with good interest ; and 
 soon strewedj the green with the dead and wounded. Such 
 fierce discharges of musketry produced the effect that might 
 have been expected in a land of freemen, who saw their gal- 
 lant brothei's suddenly engaged in the strife of death. 
 
 4. Never before had the bosoms of the swains experienced 
 such a tumult of heroic passions. Then throwing aside the 
 implements of husbandry, and leaving their teams in the half 
 finished furrows, they flew to their houses, snatched up their 
 arms, and bursting from their wild shrieking wives and chil- 
 dren, hasted to the glorious field where Liberty, heaven-born 
 goddess, was to be bought with blood. 
 
 5. Pouring in now from every quarter, were seen crowds of 
 sturdy peasants, with flushed cheeks and flaming eyes, eager 
 for battle ! Even age itself forgot its wonted infirmities : and 
 hands, long palsied with years, threw aside the cushioned crutch 
 and grasped the deadly firelock. Fast as they came up, ihcir 
 ready muskets began to pour the long, red streams of fiery 
 vengeance. 
 
 6. The enemy fell back appalled ! The shouting farmers, 
 swift-closing on their rear, followed their steps with deatli, 
 while the British, as fast as they could load, wheeling on their 
 pursuers, returned the deadly fire. But their flight was not in 
 safety. Every step of their retreat was stained with blood — 
 
 * Thomais Gage was an officer of some distinction in tlie British army. — 
 He was appointed Governor of Massachusetts in 1774, and soon began that 
 course of illegal and oppressive acts which brought on the war of the rc^ olu- 
 tion. Soon after the commencement of the war, he returned to England, 
 where he died, 1787. He was the last Governor of Massachusetts appoint- 
 ed by the King. 
 
 t Provincials, those troops raised in the provinces, and sent to oppo-se the 
 British army. 
 1^ % Pronounced strowd. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 41 
 
 every hedge or fence by which they passed, concealed a deadly 
 foe. 
 
 6. They would, in all probability, have been cut off to a man, 
 had not General Gage luckily recollected, that horn of Bri- 
 tons, these Yankees might possess some of the family valor, 
 and therefore sent 1000 men to support the detachment. This 
 reinforcement met the poor fellows, faint with fear and fatigue, 
 and brought them safely off to Boston. 
 
 LESSON XX. 
 
 Battle of BuJiker^s Hill. — Charles Botta. 
 
 1. Whether he was deceived by the resemblance of name, 
 or from some other motive unknown. Colonel Prescott, instead 
 of repairing to the heights* of Bunker's Hill to fortify himself 
 there, advanced further on in the peninsula, and immediately 
 commenced his intrenchments upon the heights of Breed's Hill, 
 another eminence, which overlooks Charlestown,t and is situa- 
 ted towards the extremity of the peninsula, nearer to Boston. 
 
 2. The works were pushed with so much ardor, that the 
 following morning, by day-break, the Americans had already 
 constructed a square redout,;}; capable of affording them some 
 shelter from the enemy's fire. The labor had been conducted 
 with such silence, that the Englisli had no suspicion of what 
 was passing. It was about four in the morning, when the cap- 
 tain of a ship of war first perceived it, and began to play his 
 artillery. The report of the cannon attracted a multitude of 
 spectators to the shore. 
 
 3. The English Generals doubted the testimony of their 
 senses. Meanwhile the thing appeared too important not to 
 endeavor to dislodge the provincials, or, at least, to prevent 
 them from completing the fortification commenced ; for, as the 
 height of Breed's Hill absolutely commands Boston, the town 
 was no longer tenable, if the Americans erected a battery upon 
 this eminence. 
 
 4. The Englislil therefore, opened a general fire of the artil- 
 lery of the town, of the fleet, and of the floating batteries sta- 
 tioned around the peninsulas-of Boston. It hailed a tempest 
 of bombs and balls upon the works of the Americans — they 
 
 * Pronounced hites. 
 
 t Charlestown is one mile north of Boston, and is connected with it by a 
 bridge across Charles river. 
 t Redout, a small square fort, without defence, except in front. 
 
 4# 
 
42 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 were especially incommoded by the fire of a battery planted 
 upon an eminence named Cop's Hill, which, situated within the 
 town, forms a species of tower in front of Breed's Hill. But 
 all this was without effect. 
 
 5. The Americans continued to work the whole day, with 
 unshaken constancy ; and towards night, they had already 
 much advanced a trench, which descended from the redout to 
 the foot of the hill, and almost to the bank of Mystic river. — 
 The fury of the enemy's artillery, it is true, had prevented them 
 from carrying it to perfection. 
 
 6. In this conjuncture, there remained no other hope for the 
 English Generals, but in attempting an assault, to drive the 
 Americans, by dint of force, from this formidable position. — 
 This resolution was takeji without hesitation ; and it was fol- 
 lowed, the 17th of June, 1775, by the action of Breed's Hill, 
 known also by the name of Bunker's Hill ; much renowned for 
 the intrepidity, not to say the temerity, of the parties ; for the 
 number of the dead and wounded ; and for the etlect it ])ro- 
 duced upon the opinions of men, in regard to the valor of the 
 Americans, and the probable issue of the whole war. 
 
 7. Between mid-day and one o'clock, the heat being intense, 
 all was motion in the British camp. A multitude of sloops and 
 boats, filled with soldiers, left the shore of Boston, and stood 
 for Charlestown; they landed at Moreton's Point, without 
 meeting resistance ; as the ships of war and armed vessels ef- 
 fectually protected the debarkation with the fire of their artil- 
 lery, which forced the enemy to keep within his intrenchments. 
 
 8. This corps* consisted of ten companies of grenadiers, as 
 many of light infantry, and a proportionate artillery ; the whole 
 under the command of Major-General Howe,t and Brigadier- 
 General Pigot. The troops, on landing, began to dis})lay, the 
 light infantry upon the right, the grenadiers upon the left ; but, 
 having observed the strength of the position, and the good 
 countenance of the Americans, General Howe made a halt, and 
 sent to call a reinforcement. 
 
 9. The English formed themselves in two columns. Their 
 plan was, that the left wing, under General Pinot, should attack 
 the provincials in Charlestown ; while the centre assaulted the 
 redout ; and the right wing, consisting of light infantry, should 
 force the passage near the river Mystic, and thus assail the 
 
 * Pronounced kore, — a body of armed men. 
 
 t General William Howe, a brother of Lord Richard Howe, the Admiral 
 of the British fleet. He succeeded General Gage in the command of the 
 British army, October 10, 1775. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 43 
 
 Americans in flank and rear ; which would give the EngUsh 
 complete victory. 
 
 10. It appears, also, that General Gage had formed the de- 
 sign of setting lire to Charlestown, when evacuated by the ene- 
 my, in order that the corps, destined to assail the redout, thus 
 protected by the flame and smoke, might be less exposed to 
 the Are of the provincials. 
 
 11. The dispositions having been all completed, the Eng- 
 lish put themselves in motion. The provincials, that were 
 stationed to defend Charlestown, fearing lest the assailants 
 should penetrate between this town and the redout, and thus 
 find themselves cut oft" from the rest of the army, retreated. 
 
 12. The English immediately entered tlie town and fired the 
 buildings — as they were of wood, in a moment the combustion 
 became general. They continued a slow march against the 
 redout and trench ; halting, from time to time, for the artillery 
 to come up, and act with some eflect, previous to the assault. 
 The flames and smoke of Charlestown were of no use to them, 
 as the wind turned them in a contrary direction. 
 
 13. Their gradual advance, and the extreme clearness of the 
 air, permitted the Americans to level their muskets. They, 
 however, suflered the enemy to approach, before they com- 
 menced their fire ; and waited for the assault, in profound tran- 
 quillity. It would be difficult to paint the scene of terror pre- 
 sented by these circumstances. 
 
 14. A large town, all enveloped in flames, which, excited by 
 a violent wind, rose to an immense height, and spread every 
 moment more and more ; an innumerable multitude, rushing 
 from all parts, to witness so unusual a spectacle, and see the 
 issue of the sanguinary conflict that was about to commence. 
 
 15. The Bostonians, and soldiers of the garrison, not in ac- 
 tual service, were mounted upon the spires, upon the roofs, and 
 upon the heights. The hills, and circumjacent fields, from 
 which the dread arena could be viewed in safety, were covered 
 with swarms of spectators, of every rank, and age, and sex ; 
 each agitated by fear or hope, according to the party he 
 espoused. 
 
 16. The English, having advanced within reach of the mus- 
 ketry, the Americans showered upon them a volley of bullets. 
 This terrible fire was so well supported, and so well directed, 
 that the ranks of the assailants were soon thinned and broken — 
 they retired, in disorder, to the place of their landing — some 
 threw themselves precipitately into the boats. The field of 
 battle was covered with the slain. 
 
44 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 17. The officers were seen running hither and thither, with 
 promises, with exhortations, and with menaces, attempting to 
 rally the soldiers, and inspirit them for a second attack. Final- 
 ly, after the most painful eftbrts, they resumed their ranks, and 
 marched up to the enemy. The Americans reserved their fire 
 as before, until their approach, and received them with the 
 same deluge of balls. The English, overwhelmed and routed, 
 again fled to the shore. 
 
 18. In this perilous moment. General Howe remained for 
 some time alone upon the field of battle — all the officers, who 
 surrounded him, were killed or wounded. It is related, that, 
 at this critical conjuncture, upon which depended the issue of 
 the day. General Clinton,* who, from Cop's Hill, examined all 
 the movements, on seeing the destruction of his troops, imme- 
 diately resolved to fly to their succor. 
 
 19. This experienced commander, by an able movement, 
 re-established order ; and seconded by tlie oflicers, -who felt all 
 the importance of success to English honor and the course of 
 events, he led the troops to a third attack. It was directed 
 against the redout at three several points. 
 
 20. The artillery of the ships not only prevented all reinforce- 
 ments from coming to the Americans, by the isthmus of Charles- 
 town, but even uncovered, and SAvept the interior of the trencli, 
 which was battered in front at the same time. The anmiuni- 
 tion of the Americans Avas nearly exhausted, and they could 
 have no hopes of a recruit. Their fire must, of necessity, 
 languish. 
 
 21. Meanwhile, the English had advanced to the foot of the 
 redout. The provincials, destitute of bayonets, defended them- 
 selves valiantly with the butt end of their muskets. But the 
 redout being already full of enemies, the American General 
 gave the signal of retreat, and drew off his men. 
 
 22. AVhile the left wing and centre of the English army were 
 thus engaged, the light infantry had impetuously attacked the 
 ])alisades, which the provincials had erected, in haste, upon the 
 bank of the river Mystic. On the one side, and on the other, 
 the combat was obstinate ; and if the assault was furious, the 
 resistance was not feeble. 
 
 23. In spite of all the efforts of the royal troops, the provin- 
 cials still maintained the battle in this part ; and had no thoughts 
 
 * Sir Henry Clinton, a British General during a greater part of the Revo- 
 lutionary war, was the son of George Clinton, one of the colonial governors 
 of New- York. He returned to England in 1782, and was made governor of 
 Gibraltar in 1795, where he soon died. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 45 
 
 of retiring, until they saw the redout and upper part of the 
 trench were in the power of the enemy. Their retreat was 
 executed with an order not to haA^e been expected from new 
 levied soldiers. This strenuous resistance of the left wing of 
 the American army was, in etFect, the salvation of the rest ; for, 
 if it had given ground but a few instants sooner, the enemy's 
 light infantry would have taken the main body and right wing 
 in the rear, and their situation would have been hopeless. 
 
 24. But the Americans had not yet reached the term of their 
 toils and dangers. The only way that remained of retreat was 
 by the isthnms of Charlestown ; and the English had placed 
 there a ship of war and two floating batteries, the balls of which 
 raked every part of it. The Americans, however, issued from 
 the peninsula, without any considerable loss. 
 
 25. It was during the retreat that Dr. Warren* received his 
 death. Finding the corps he commanded hotly pursued by the 
 enemy, despising all danger, he stood alone before the ranks, 
 endeavouring to rally his troops, and to encourage them by his 
 own example. He reminded them of the mottos inscribed on 
 their ensigns ; on one side of which were these words — " An 
 Appeal to Heaven ;" and on the other — " Qui transtulit, sus- 
 tinet ;" meaning the same providence which brought their 
 ancestors through so many perils, to a place of refuge, would 
 also deign to support their descendants. 
 
 26. An English officer perceived Dr. Warren, and knew 
 him ; he borrowed the musket of one of his soldiers, and hit 
 
 ^him with a ball, either in the head or in the breast. He fell 
 dead upon the spot. Tlie Americans were apprehensive lest 
 the English, availing themselves of victory, should sally out of 
 the peninsula, and attack the head quarters at Cambridge. 
 
 27. But they contented themselves with taking possession of 
 Bunker's Hill, where they entrenched themselves, in order to 
 guard the entrance of the neck against any new enterprise on 
 the part of the enemy. The provincials, having the same sus- 
 picion, fortified Prospect Hill, which is situated at the mouth of 
 the isthmus, on the side of the main land. 
 
 * Joseph Warren was bora in Roxbury, Massachusetts, in 1740. He 
 studied medicine, and became eminent in the profession. He distinguished 
 himself, at an early period, by a zealous opposition to the unjust measures 
 of the British government toward the colonies. He was bold, ardent, deci- 
 sive, eloquent, and accomplished in literature, and soon rose to the first place 
 in the esteem and confidence of his fellow citizens. Four days previous to 
 the battle of Bunker's Hill, he was appointed a Major-General in the Amer- 
 ican army, and on the day of that battle, to encourage the soldiers within the 
 lines, he joined them as a volunteer. He was killed in the 35th year of his age. 
 
46 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 28. But neither the one nor the other were disposed to haz- 
 ard any new movement ; the first, discouraged by the loss of so 
 many men, and the second, by that of the field of battle and the 
 peninsula. The pro\dncials had to regret five pieces of cannon, 
 with a great number of utensils, employed in fortifications, and 
 no little camp equipage. 
 
 29. General Howe was greatly blamed by some, for having 
 chosen to attack the Americans, by directing his battery in front 
 against the fortifications upon Breed's Hill, and the trench that 
 descended towards the sea', on the part of Mystic river. 
 
 30. It was thought, that if he had landed a respectable de- 
 tachment upon the Isthmus of Charlestown, an operation which 
 the assistance of the ships of war and floating batteries would 
 have rendered perfectly easy to him, it would have compelled 
 the Americans to evacuate the peninsula, without the necessity 
 of coming to a sanguinary engagement. 
 
 31. They would thus, in effect, have been deprived of all 
 communication with their camp, situated without the peninsula, 
 and, on the part of the sea, they could have hoped for no retreat, 
 as it was commanded by the English. 
 
 32. In this mode, the' desired object would, therefore, have 
 been obtained without the sacrifice of men. Such, it is said, 
 was the plan of General Clinton ; but it Avas rejected, so great 
 was the confidence reposed in the bravery and discipline of the 
 English soldiers, and in the cowardice of the Americans. 
 
 33. The first of these opinions was not, in truth, without 
 foundation ; but the second was absolutely chimerical, and 
 evinced more of intellectual darkness in the English, than of 
 prudence, and just notions upon a state of things. By this fatal 
 error, the bravery of the Americans was confirmed ; the Eng- 
 lish army debilitated ; the spirit of the soldiers, and perhaps 
 the final event of the whole contest, decided. 
 
 LESSON XXI. 
 
 Application, 
 
 1. Since the days that are past are gone for ever, and those 
 that are to come may not come to thee ; it behoveth thee, O 
 man, to employ the present time, without regretting the loss of 
 that which is past, or too much depending on that which is to 
 come. 
 
 2. This instant is thine ; the next is in the bosom of futurity, 
 and thou knowest not what it may bring forth. Whatsoever 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. m 
 
 thou resolvest to do, do it quickly ; defer not until evening 
 what the morning may accomplish. 
 
 3. Idleness is the parent of want and of pain ; but the labor 
 of \artue bringeth forth pleasure. The hand of diligence de- 
 feateth want ; prosperity and success are th^ industrious man's 
 attendants. 
 
 4. Who is he that hath acquired wealth, that hath risen to 
 power, that hath clothed himself with honor, that is spoken of 
 in the city with praise, and tlmt standeth before the king in his 
 council ? Even he that hath shut out idleness from his house ; 
 and hath said to sloth — thou art my enemy. 
 
 5. He riseth up early, and lieth down late ; he exerciseth 
 his mind with contemplation, and his body with action ; and 
 preserveth the health of both. 
 
 6. The slothful man is a burden to himself ; his hours hang 
 heavy on his head ; he loitereth about ; and knoweth not what 
 he would do. His days pass away like the shadow of a cloud ; 
 he leaveth behind him no mark for remembrance. 
 
 7. His body is diseased for want of exercise ; he wisheth for 
 action, but hath not power to move. His mind is in darkness ; 
 his thoughts are confused ; he longeth for knowledge, but hath 
 no application. He would eat of the almond, but hateth the 
 trouble of breaking the shell. 
 
 8. His house is in disorder ; his servants are wasteful and 
 riotous ; and he runneth on towards ruin ; he seeth it with his 
 eyes ; he heareth it with his ears ; he shaketh his head and 
 wisheth ; but hath no resolution ; until ruin cometh upon him 
 like a whirlwind ; and shame and repentance descend with him 
 to the grave. 
 
 LESSON XXII. 
 
 The Short7?ess of Life, 
 
 1. We see the grass fall by the mower's scythe, and the gay 
 flowers that adorn the meadows, unregarded, swept away. The 
 green, the yellow, the crimson, the succulent, fall undistinguish- 
 ed before the fatal instrument that cuts them off. They are 
 scattered on the ground, and withered by the intense heat of the 
 day. 
 
 2. That blooming flower which stands the pride of the ver- 
 dant field, glowing in beautiful colors, and shining with the dawn 
 of the morning, ere the sun gains its meridian height, falls a 
 sacrifice to the severing steel, and fades in the scorching rays of 
 noon. 
 
48 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. Thus is it with human life — The thread is cut, and man 
 falls into the silent tomb. Nothing can ward off the fatal stroke ; 
 the aged, old and infirm — manhood, in strength and vigor — 
 youth, in bloom and beauty — the infant, weak and helpless, are 
 without distinction swept away by the scythe of the great de- 
 stroyer, Death. 
 
 4. The active youth, who in the morning rises with health 
 and vivacity, may at noon lie pale and motionless, at the feet of 
 this great victor ; and at the setting of the morrow's sun, be 
 consigned to the dark and lonesome mansions of the dead. 
 Cities and nations are subject to the same fate. 
 
 5. How soon is a flourishing town depopulated by a pestilen- 
 tial disease. How soon is a nation cut off by the raging of a 
 direful war. 
 
 " O ! that mine head were waters, and mine eyes 
 " Were fountains flowing like the liquid skies ; 
 " Then would I give the mighty flood release, 
 " And weep a deluge for the human race." 
 
 LESSON XXHL 
 
 The Faithful Greyhound, — M. Dwight. 
 
 1. The story on which the following ballad is founded is 
 traditionary. In a village at the foot of Snowdon,* Lewellyn 
 the Great had a house. His father-in-law. King John, had 
 made him a present of a hound named Gelert — a dog of extra- 
 ordinary qualities, both in the family and in the chase. 
 
 2. On one occasion he staid away from the chase, as it 
 would seem by instinct, that he might prove to be guardian of 
 a young son of his master. On returning from the hunt, 
 Lewellyn was met by Gelert, who fawned upon him, as usual, 
 but was covered with blood. 
 
 3. Alarmed at the spectacle, the master pressed onward to 
 the spot where his child's bed was placed, which he found 
 overturned, and the covering and floor stained with blood, 
 but no child to be seen. 
 
 4. After calling with a frantic voice, but receiving no an- 
 swer, believing that Gelert had destroyed him, he plunged his 
 sword into the heart of the faithful animal, who cast a piteous 
 look at his master, gave a single yell, and expired. 
 
 * Snowdon, a mountain in Wales, 3,571 feet liigh above the level of the 
 sea. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 49 
 
 5. The dying cry of the dog aroused the infant, and Lewel- 
 IjTi, hearing a noise, upon examining the bed-clothes which 
 were lying near in a heap, he there found his son, who had just 
 wakened from sleep, entirely safe and unhurt, while close by 
 him lay the dead body of a hideous wolf, who had been killed 
 by the faithful Gelert, while in the act of attempting to destroy 
 the life of the child. 
 
 6. Lewellyn was struck with horror at the spectacle be- 
 fore him — after giving vent to his grief for the rash act of de- 
 stroying the preserver of his son, he raised a splendid tomb 
 over Gelert. The place still goes by the name of " Beth Ge- 
 lert,^^ or Gelert's Grav^e. 
 
 Beth Gelert, or the Grave of the Greyhound. — W. Spencer. 
 
 1. The spearman heard the bugle sound, 
 And cheerly smiled the morn. 
 
 And many a dog and many a hound 
 Obey'd Lewellyn' s horn. 
 
 2. And still he blew a louder blast, 
 And gave a lustier cheer, 
 
 " Come Gelert, thou wert ne'er the last 
 " Lewellyn's horn to hear. 
 
 3. " Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam, 
 " The flower of all his race? 
 
 " So true, so brave, a lamb at home, 
 "A lion in the chase !" 
 
 4. 'Twas only at Lewellyn's board 
 The faithful Gelert fed ; 
 
 He watch'd, he serv'd, he cheer'd his lord, 
 And sentinel'd his bed. 
 
 5. In sooth he was a peerless hound. 
 The gift of Royal John ;* 
 
 But now, no Gelert could be found. 
 And all the chase rode on. 
 
 6. And now, as o'er the rocks and dells. 
 The gallant chidings rise. 
 
 All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells 
 The many mingled cries. 
 
 * John, king of England, A, D. 1199. 
 
 5 
 
60 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. That day Lewellyn little loved 
 The chase of hart or hare, 
 
 And scant and small the booty proved— 
 For Gelert was not there. 
 
 8. Unpleased Lewellyn homeward hied ; 
 When, near the portal seat. 
 
 His truant Gelert he espied, 
 Bounding his lord to greet. 
 
 9. But when he gained his castle door, 
 Aghast the chieftain stood ; 
 
 The hound all o'er was smeared with gore. 
 His lips, his fangs ran blood. 
 
 10. Lewellyn gazed with fierce surprise ; 
 Unused such looks to meet, 
 
 His favorite checked his joyful guise, 
 And crouched and licked his feet. 
 
 11. Onward in haste Lewellyn past, 
 And on went Gelert too, 
 
 And still where'er his eyes he cast. 
 Fresh blood drops shocked his view. 
 
 12. O'erturned his infant's bed he found 
 With blood stained covert rent ; 
 And all around the walls and ground, 
 With recent blood besprent. 
 
 13. He called his child — no voice replied ; 
 He searched with terror wild : 
 Blood, blood he found on every side, 
 But no where found his child. 
 
 14. " Vile brute ! my child by thee's devoured," 
 The frantic father cried. 
 
 And to the hilt his vengeful sword 
 He plunged in Gelert's side. 
 
 15. His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, 
 No pity could impart, 
 
 But still his Gelert's dying yell 
 Passed heavy o'er his heart. 
 
 16. Aroused by Gelert's dying yell. 
 Some slumberer wakened nigh. 
 What words the parent's joy could tell, 
 To hear his infant cry. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 51 
 
 17. Conceal'd beneath a tumbled heap,' 
 His hurried search had miss'd ; 
 All glowing from his rosy sleep, 
 The cherub boy he kiss'd. 
 
 18. No wound had he, nor harm, nor dread ; 
 But the same couch beneath, 
 
 Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead. 
 Tremendous still in death. 
 
 19. Ah, what was then Lewellyn's pain? 
 For now the truth was clear ; 
 
 .His gallant hound the wolf had slain, 
 To save Lewellyn's heir. 
 
 20. Vain, vain was all Lewellyn's wo : • 
 Best of thy kind, adieu ! 
 
 The frantic blow that laid thee low, 
 This heart shall ever rue. 
 
 21. And now a gallant tomb they raise. 
 With costly sculpture deck'd ; 
 And marble, storied with his praise. 
 Poor Gelert's bones protect. 
 
 22. There, never could the spearman pass. 
 Or forester, unmoved ; 
 
 There, oft the tear-besprinkled grass 
 Lewellyn's sorrow proved. 
 
 23. And there he hung his horn and spear. 
 And there, as evening fell. 
 
 In fancy's ear, he oft would hear. 
 Poor Gelert's dying yell. 
 
 24. And 'till great Snowdon's rocks grow old, 
 And cease the storm to brave, 
 
 The consecrated spot shall hold 
 
 The name of " Gelert's Grave." - . 
 
 LESSON XXIV. 
 
 Mortality. — Barbauld. 
 
 1. Child of mortality, whence comest thou? why is thy 
 countenance sad, and why are thine eyes red with weeping ? — 
 I have seen the rose in its beauty ; it spread its leaves to the 
 
52 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 morning sun. I returned : it was dying upon its stalk ; the 
 grace of the form of it was gone : its loveliness was vanished 
 away ; its leaves were scattered on the ground, and no one 
 gathered them again. 
 
 3. A stately tree grew on the plain ; its branches were cov- 
 ered with verdure ; its boughs spread wide, and made a goodly 
 shadow ; the trunk was like a strong pillar ; the roots were like 
 crooked fangs. I returned : the verdure was nipt by the east 
 wind ; the branches were lopt away by the ax ; the worm had 
 made its way into the trunk, and the heart thereof was decayed ; 
 it mouldered away and fell to the ground. 
 
 3. I have seen the insects sporting in the sunshine, ^nd dart- 
 ing along the streams ; their winors glittered v/ith gold and pur- 
 ple; their bodies shone like the green emerald ; they were more 
 numerous than I could count ; their motions were quicker than 
 my eye could glance. I returned : they were brushed into the 
 pool ; they were perishing with the evening breeze ; the swal- 
 low had devoured them ; the pike had seized them ; there were 
 none found of so great a multitude. 
 
 4. I have seen a man in the pride of his strength ; his cheeks 
 glowed with beauty ; his limbs were full of activity ; he leaped ; 
 he walked ; he ran ; he rejoiced in that he was more excellent 
 than those. I returned : he lay stiff and cold on the bare 
 ground ; his feet could no longer move, nor his hands stretch 
 themselves out ; his life was de]mrted from him ; and tlie breath 
 out of his nostrils. TJierefore do I M-eep because DEATH is 
 in the world ; the spoiler is among the works of God ; all that 
 is made must be destroyed ; all that is born must die. 
 
 LESSON XXV. 
 
 Immortality. — Barbauld. 
 
 1. I HAVE seen the flower withering on the stalk, and its 
 bright leaves spread (in the ground. — I looked again ; it sprung 
 fortn afresh ; its stem was crowned with new buds, and its 
 sweetness filled the air. 
 
 2. I have seen the sun set in the west, and the shades of 
 night shut in the wide horizon : there was no color, nor shape, 
 nor beauty, nor music ; gloom and darkness brooded around. — 
 I looked : the sun broke forth again upon the east, and gilded 
 the mountain tops ; the lark rose to meet him from her low nest, 
 and the shades of darkness lied away. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 53 
 
 3. I have seen the insect, being come to its full size, languish, 
 and refuse to eat : it spun itself a tomb, and was shrouded in 
 the silken cone ; it lay without feet, or shape, or power to 
 move. — I looked again : it had burst its tomb ; it was full of 
 life, and sailed on colored wings through the soft air ; it rejoic- 
 ed in its new being. 
 
 4. Thus shall it be with thee, O man ! and so shall thy life 
 be renewed. Beauty shall spring up out of ashes, and life out 
 of the dust. A little while shalt thou lie in the ground, as the 
 seed lies in the bosom of the earth ; but thou shalt be raised 
 again ; and thou shalt never die any more. 
 
 5. Who is he that comes to burst open tlie prison doors of 
 the tomb ; to bid the dead awake ; and to gather his redeemed 
 from the four winds of heaven ? He descends on a fiery cloud ; 
 the sound of a trumpet goes before him ; thousands of angels 
 are on his right hand. — It is Jesus, the Son of God ; the Saviour 
 of men ; the friend of the good. He comes in the glory of his 
 Father ; he has received power from on high. 
 
 6. Mourn not, therefore, child of immortality ! for the spoi- 
 ler, the cruel spoiler, that laid waste the works of God, is subdu- 
 ed. Jesus has conquered death : child of immortality ! mourn 
 no longer. 
 
 LESSON xxvi: 
 
 The End of Perfection. — Mrs. Sigourney. 
 
 1. I HAVE seen a man in the glory of his days and the pride 
 of his strength. He was built like the tall cedar that lifts itv^ 
 head above the forest trees ; like the strong oak that strikes its 
 root deeply into the earth. He feared no danger — he felt no 
 sickness — he wondered that any should groan or sigh at pain. 
 
 2. His mind was vigorous like his body ; he was perplexed 
 at no intricacy ; he was daunted at no difficulty; into hidden 
 things he searched, and what was crooked he made plain. 
 
 3. He went forth fearless upon tlie mighty deep ; he survey- 
 ed the nations of the earth ; he measured the distances of the 
 stars, and called them by their names ; he gloried in the extent 
 of his knowledge, in the vigor of his understanding, and strove 
 to search even into what the Almighty had concealed. 
 
 4. And when 1 looked on him, I said, " What a piece of work 
 la man ! how noble in reason ! how infinite in faculties ! in form 
 and movinjr how express and admirable ! in action how like an 
 angel ! in apprehension how like a God !" 
 
 5* 
 
54 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. I returned — his look was no more lofty, nor his steps 
 proud ; his broken frame was like some ruined tower ; his hairs 
 were white and scattered ; and his eye gazed vacantly upon 
 what was passing around him. 
 
 6. The vigor of his intellect was wasted, and of all that he 
 had gained by study nothing remained. He feared when there 
 was no danger, and when there was no sorrow he wept. His 
 memory was decayed and treacherous, and showed him only 
 broken images of the glory that was departed. 
 
 7. His house was to him like a strange land, and his friends 
 were counted his enemies ; and he thought himself strong 
 and healthful while he stood trembling on the verge of the 
 grave. 
 
 8. He said of his son — he is my brother ; of his daughter — 
 I know her not ; and he inquired what was his own name. — 
 And one who supported his last steps, and ministered to liis 
 many wants, said to me as I looked on the melancholy scene 
 — " Let thine heart receive instruction, for thou hast seen an 
 end of all earthly perfection." 
 
 9. I have seen a beautiful female treading the first stages of 
 youth, and entering joyfully into the pleasures of life. The 
 glance of her eye was variable and sweet ; and on her cheek 
 trembled something like the first blush of the morning ; her lips 
 moved, and there was harmony ; and when she floated in the 
 dance, her light form, like the aspen, seemed to move with eve- 
 ry breeze. 
 
 10. I returned — but slie was not in the dance ; I sought her 
 in the gay circle of her companions, but I found her not. Her 
 eye sparkled not there — the music of her voice was silent — she 
 rejoiced on earth no more. 
 
 n. I saw a train, sable and slow paced, who bore sadly to 
 an open grave what was once animated and beautiful. They 
 paused as they approached, and a voice broke the awfid silence : 
 " Mingle ashes with ashes, and dust with its original dust. To 
 the earth, whence she was at first taken, we consign the body 
 of our sister." 
 
 12. They covered her with the damp soil, and the cold clods 
 of the valley ; and the worms crowded into her silent abode. 
 Yet one sad mourner lingered, to cast himself upon the grave, 
 and as he wept, he said, — " there is no beauty, or grace, or 
 loveliness that continueth in man ; for this is the end of all his 
 glory and perfection." 
 
 13. I have seen an infant with a fair brow and a frame like 
 p>olished ivory. Its limbs were pliant in its sports ; it rejoiced 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 55 
 
 and again it wept ; but whether its glowing cheek dimpled mth 
 smiles, or its blue eye was brilliant with tears, still I said to 
 my heart, it is beautiful. 
 
 14. It was like the first pure blossom which some cherished 
 plant has shot forth, whose cup is filled with a dew drop, and 
 whose head reclines upon its parent stem. 
 
 15. I again saw this child when the lamp of reason first 
 dawned in its mind. Its soul was gentle and peaceful ; its eye 
 sparkled with joy, as it looked rovmd on this good and plea- 
 sant world. It ran swiftly in the ways of knowledge — it bowed 
 its ear to instruction — it stood like a lamb before its teachers. 
 
 16. It was not proud, or envious, or stubborn, and it had 
 never heard of the vanities and vices of the world. And when 
 I looked upon it, I remembered that our Saviour had said, 
 *' Except ye become as little children, ye cannot enter into the 
 kingdom of heaven." 
 
 17. But the scene was changed, and I saw a man whom the 
 world called honorable, and many waited for his smile. They 
 pointed out the fields that were his, and talked of the silver and 
 gold that he had gathered ; they admired the stateliness of his 
 domes, and extolled the honor of his family. 
 
 18. And his heart answered secretly, " By my wisdom have 
 I gotten all this :" — So he returned no thanks to God, neither 
 did he fear or serve him. And as I passed along, I heard the 
 complaints of the laborers who had reaped down his fields, and 
 the cries of the poor, whose covering he had taken away ; but 
 the sound of feasting and revelry was in his apartments, and 
 the unfed beggar came tottering from his door. 
 
 19. But he considered not that the cries of the oppressed 
 were continually entering into the ears of the Most High. And 
 when I knew that this man was once the teachable child that 
 I had loved — the beautiful infant that I had gazed upon with 
 delight, I said in my bitterness, / have seen an end of all 
 perfection. 
 
 LESSON XXVII. 
 
 The Two Bees. — Dodsley. 
 
 1. On a fine morning in summer, two bees set forward in 
 quest of honey, — the one wise and temperate, the other careless 
 and extravagant. They soon arrived at a garden enriched 
 >vith aromatic herbs, — the most fragrant flowers, — and the most 
 delicious fruits. 
 
56 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. They regaled themselves with the various dainties that 
 were spread before them ; the one loaded himself at inter- 
 vals, with provisions for the hive against the distant winter ; 
 the other revelled in sweets, without regard to any thing but his 
 present gratiiication. 
 
 3. At length they found a wide-mouthed phial, that hung 
 beneath the bough of a peach tree, filled with honey ready tem- 
 pered, and exposed to their taste in the most alluring manner. 
 The thoughtless epicure, in spite of his friend's remonstrances, 
 plunged headlong into the vessel, resolving to indulge himself 
 in all the pleasures of sensuality. 
 
 4. His philosophic companion, on the other hand, sipped a 
 little, with caution ; but being suspicious of danger, flew oif to 
 fruits and flowers ; where, by the moderation of his meals, he 
 improved his relish for the true enjoyment of them. 
 
 5. In the evening, however, he called upon his friend, to 
 inquire whether he would return to the hive : but he found him 
 surfeited in sweets, which he was as unable to leave, as to 
 enjoy. 
 
 6. Clogged in his wings, — enfeebled in his feet, — and his 
 whole frame totally enervated, — he A\as but just able to bid his 
 friend adieu ; and to lament, with his latest breath — tlial though 
 a taste of pleasure may i[uicken the relish of life, an unrestrain- 
 ed indulgence leads to inevitable destruction. 
 
 LESSON XXVIII. 
 
 Heroism of a Peasant. 
 
 1. A GREAT inundation having taken place in the north of 
 Italy, owing to an excessive fall of snow in the Alps, followed 
 by a speedy thaw, the bri<lge near Verona* was carried oflf by 
 the flood, except the mid(ile part, on which was the house of 
 the toll-gatherer, who, with his wliole family, thus remained im- 
 prisoned by the waves, and in momenlarv danger of destruction. 
 
 2. They were discovered fr<3m the banks, stretching forth 
 their hands, screaming, and imploring succor, while frajmients 
 of this remaining arch were continually dropping into the wa- 
 ter. In this extreme danger, a nobleman who was present, 
 held out a })inse of one hundred sequins,t as a reward to any ad- 
 venturer who would take a boat and deliver the unhappy family. 
 
 * Veroiia. a city in the north, rn j)art of Italy, now etubratcd in the Au»- 
 trian empire, is situ:ilcd on the river AcUfje. 
 
 t Sequin, a no'd coin of Venice and Turkey, valued at two dollars and 
 tv»enty-oijo and a half cents. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. ?V 
 
 3. But the risk was so great of being borne dovm by the 
 rapidity of the stream, of being dashed against the fragments 
 of the bridge, or of being crushed by the falling stones, that not 
 one among the vast number of spectators had courage enough 
 to attempt such an exploit. A peasant passing along, was in- 
 formed of the proffered reward. Immediately jumping into a 
 boat, he, by strength of oars, gained the middle of the river, 
 brought his boat under the pile, and the whole family safely 
 descended by means of a rope. 
 
 4. " Courage !" cried he, " now you are safe." By a still 
 more strenuous effort, and great strength of arm, he brought 
 the boat and family to the shore. " Brave fellow !" exclaim- 
 ed the nobleman, handing him the purse ; " here is the promis- 
 ed recompense." 
 
 5. " I shall never expose my life for money," answered the 
 peasant ; " my labor is a sufficient livelihood for myself, my 
 wife and children. Give the purse to this poor family who 
 have lost all." 
 
 LESSON XXIX. 
 
 Biographical Sketch of Major Andre, 
 
 1. John Andre, Aid-de-canip to Sir Henry Clinton, and 
 Adjutant-General of the British army in America, during the 
 revolution, was born in England in 1741. He was, in early 
 life, a merchant's clerk, but obtained a commission in the army 
 at the age of seventeen. Possessing an active and enterpris- 
 ing disposition, and the most amiable and accomplished man- 
 iw.rs, he soon conciliated the esteem and friendship of his su- 
 
 .perior officers, and rose to the rank of Major. 
 
 2. After Arnold* had intimated to the British, in 17S0, his 
 intention of delivering up W est Pointf to them, Major Andre 
 
 ♦ Beneclift AraolJ, at the breaking out of the Revolutionary war, was a 
 resident of New-Haven, Connecticut. He embraced with enthusiasm the 
 cause of the colonies, and, on account of his dining courage, was })ronioted to 
 the rank of Major-Geueral ; but he was vicious, extravagant, cruel, vain, 
 luxurious, and niean. Becoming displeased with the government, he basely 
 resolved to deliver up West loint to the British, and turn traitor to his 
 country. When Andre was taken, he esc.ped with difficulty, on board a 
 Briti.sh sbip of war. He was made a Brigadier-General in the British army, 
 and at the close of the war he went to Engrland, and received 10,000/. ster- 
 ling, as a reward of his villany. He died in London, 1801, detested by all 
 vviio knew him. 
 
 t West Poir.t, a military post on the Hudson river, 58 miles north of the 
 city of New-York. 
 
58 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 was selected as the person to whom the maturing of Arnold's 
 treason, and the arrangement for its execution, should be com- 
 mitted. A correspondence was for some time carried on be- 
 tween them, under a mercantile disguise, and the feigned names 
 of Gustavus and Anderson ; and at length, to facihtate their 
 communications, the Vulture sloop of war moved up the North 
 River, and took a station convenient for the purpose, but not 
 so near as to excite suspicion. 
 
 3. An interview was agreed on, and in the night of Septem- 
 ber 21, 1780, he was taken in a boat, which was despatched for 
 the purpose, and carried to the beach without the posts of both 
 armies, under a pass* for John Anderson. He met General 
 Arnold at the house of a Mr. Smith. AVhile the conference 
 was yet .unfinished, day-light approached ; and to avoid the 
 danger of discovery, it was proposed that he should remain 
 concealed till the succeeding night. 
 
 4. He desired that he might not be carried within the Amer- 
 ican posts ; but the promise, made to him by Arnold, to re- 
 spect this objection, was not observed. He was carried within 
 them contrary to his wishes and against his knowledge. He 
 continued with Arnold the succeeding day, and when on the 
 following night he proposed to return to the Vulture, the boat- 
 men refused to carry him because she had during the day shift- 
 ed her station, in consequence of a ^un having been moved to 
 the shore and brought to bear upon ner. 
 
 5. This embarrassing circumstance reduced him to the neces- 
 sity of endeavoring to reach New-York by land. Yielding with 
 reluctance to the urgent representations of Arnold, he laid aside 
 his regimentals, which he had hitherto worn under his surtout, 
 and put on a plain suit of cloaths, and receiving a pass from 
 the American General, authorizing him, under the feigned 
 name of John Anderson, to proceed on the public service to 
 the White Plains, or lower, if he thought proper, he set out 
 on his return. 
 
 6. He had passed all the guards and posts on the road with- 
 out suspicion, and was proceeding to New- York in perfect se- 
 curity, when, on the twenty-third of September, one of the 
 three militia men, who were employed with others in scouting 
 parties between the lines of the two armies, springing suddenly 
 from his covert in the road, seized the reins of his bridle and 
 stopped his horse. 
 
 * Pass, a written licence from one in authorit)-, granting permission to a 
 person to go from one place to another, without hindrance or molestation. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 59 
 
 7. Instead of producing his pass, Andre, with a want of self- 
 possession, which can be attributed only to a kind of providence, 
 asked the man hastily where he belonged, and being answered, 
 " to below," replied immediately, " and so do I." He then 
 declared himself to be a British officer, on urgent business, and 
 begged that he might not be detained. The other two militia 
 men coming up at this moment, he discovered his mistake ; 
 but it was too late to repair it. 
 
 8. He offered a purse of gold, and a valuable watch, to which 
 he added the most tempting promises of ample reward and 
 permanent provision from the government, if they would permit 
 him to escape; but his offers were rejected without hesitation. 
 The names of the militia men who apprehended Andre, were 
 John Paulding, David Williams, and Isaac Vanwert, who, im- 
 mediately after searching, carried him before their commander, 
 Col. Jamieson. 
 
 9. On the 29th of September,. 1780, General Washington 
 appointed a board of fourteen general officers, part of whom 
 were General Green,* the Marquis de la Fayette,! and Baron 
 de Steuben,| with the assistance of the Judge Advocate, John 
 Lawrence. After the most mature deliberation they pronounc- 
 ed Major Andre a spy from the enemy, and that agreeably to 
 the laws of nations he ought to suffer death. 
 
 10. When his sentence was announced to him, he remarked, 
 that since it was his lot to die, as there was a choice in the mode, 
 which would make a material difference in his feelings, he would 
 be happy, if it were possible, to be indulged with a professional 
 death ; but the indulgence of being shot rather than hanged was 
 
 - * Nathaniel Green, a Major-General in the army of the United States, 
 during the war of the Revolution, was born in Warwick, Rhode-Island, 
 1741. His bravery, skill, and services, were such as to merit the highest ap- 
 probation of his country. He died in Georgia, 1786. 
 
 t Gilbert Mottier, Marquis de la Fayette, was born in France in 1757. 
 He descended from distinguished ancestors, and inherited a princely fortune. 
 Such was his ardor in the cause of liberty, that, at the age of 19, he came to 
 America, and joined the army under Washington. He was appointed a 
 Major-General, and by his active and faithful services, he gained the esteem 
 and affection of the whole American people. In 1824, he visited the United 
 States, when he made a tour through the country, and was every where re- 
 ceived with the highest marks of gratitude and respect. He returned to 
 France in 1825. 
 
 t Frederick William, Baron de Steuben, was a native of Prussia. He 
 came to America in 1777, and volunteered his services in the cause of lib- 
 erty. He was appointed a Major-General in the American army, and by 
 his knowledge of the military tactics of Europe, he rendered the most essen- 
 tial service to the revolutionary army.^ He died at Steubenville, in the state 
 of New- York, in 1794. 
 
60 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 not granted, because it was considered contrary to the custom 
 of war. 
 
 11. When he was led out to the place of execution, he bowed 
 familiarly to all those with whom he had been acquainted during 
 his confinement ; a smile of complacency expressed the serene 
 fortitude of his mind. — Upon seeing tiie preparations at the spot, 
 he asked with some emotion, " must I die in this manner ?" — 
 He was told it was unavoidable. " I am reconciled to my fate," 
 said he, " but not to the mode." Soon after, liowever, recol- 
 lecting himself, he added, " It will be but a momentary pang ;" 
 and springing upon the cart, performed the last office to himself, 
 with a composure that excited the admiration and melted the 
 hearts of all the spectators. 
 
 12. Being told that the fatal moment was at hand, and asked 
 if he had any thing to say, he answered, " Nothing, but to re- 
 quest that you will witness to the world that I die like a brave 
 man." Thus died Major Andre, universally esteemed and 
 regretted. 
 
 LESSON XXX. 
 
 The Miracle. — A German Parable. 
 
 1. One day in spring, Solomon, then a youth, sat under the 
 palm-trees, in the garden of the King, his father, with his eyes 
 fixed on the ground, and absorbed in thought. Nathan, his 
 preceptor, went up to him and said, " Why sittest thou thus, 
 musing under the palm-trees ?" The youth raised his head, and 
 answered, " Nathan, I am exceedingly desirous to behold a 
 miracle." 
 
 2. " A wish," said the prophet, with a smile, " which I en- 
 tertained myself in my juvenile years," "And was it granted ?" 
 hastily asked the Prince. " A man of God," answered Nathan, 
 "came to me, brinnring in his hand a pomegranate seed. Ob- 
 serve, said he, what this seed will turn to ! He thereupon made 
 with his fingers a hole in the earth, and put the seed into the 
 hole, and covered it." 
 
 3. " Scarcely had he drawn back his hand, when the earth 
 parted, and I saw two sm.all leaves shoot forth — but no sooner 
 did I perceive them than the leaves separated, and from between 
 them arose a round stem, covered with bark, and the stem be- 
 came every moment higher and thicker." 
 
 4. " The man of God thereupon said to me, * take notice !' 
 And while I v^bserved, seven s-hoots issued from the stem, like 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 61 
 
 the seven branches on the candlestick of the aUar." " I was 
 astonished, but the man of God motioned to me, and command- 
 ed me to be silent, and to attend. Behold, said he, new crea- 
 tions will soon make their appearance." 
 
 5. " He thereupon brought water in the hollow of his hand 
 from the stream which flowed past ; and lo ! all the branches 
 were covered with green leaves, so that a cooling shade was 
 thrown around us, together with a delicious odor. — "Whence," 
 exclaimed I, " is this })erfame amid the refreshing shade ?" — 
 " Seest thou not, " said the man of God, " the scarlet blossom, 
 as, shooting forth from among the green leaves, it hangs down 
 in clusters f" 
 
 6. " I was about to answer, when a gentle breeze agitated 
 the leaves, and strewed the blossoms around us, as the autumnal 
 blast scatters the withered foliage. No sooner had the blossoms 
 fallen, than the red pomegranates appeared suspended among 
 the leaves, like the almonds on the staves of Aaron. The man 
 of God then left me in profound amazement." 
 
 7. Nathan ceased speaking. " What is the name of the 
 god-like man ?" asked Solomon, hastily. " Doth he yet live ? 
 Where doth he dwell ?" " Son of David," replied Nathan, 
 *' I have related to thee a vision." When Solomon heard these 
 words, he was troubled in his heart, and said, " How canst thou 
 deceive me thus ?" " I have not deceived thee, son of David," 
 rejoined Nathan. " Behold, in thy father's garden thou mayest 
 see all that I have related to thee. Doth not the same thing 
 take place with every pomegranate, and with the other trees ?" 
 
 8. " Yes," said Solomon, " but imperceptibly, and in a long 
 time." Then Nathan answered — " Is it therefore the less a 
 divine work, because it takes place silently and insensibly ? 
 Study nature and her operations ; then wilt thou easily believe 
 those of a higher power, and not long for miracles wrought by 
 a human hand." 
 
 LESSON XXXI. 
 
 The Compassionate Judge. 
 
 1. The celebrated Charles Anthony Domat was promoted 
 to the office of a Judge of a provincial court, in the south of 
 France, in which he presided, with public applause, for twenty- 
 four years. One day a poor widow brought a complaint before 
 him, against the Baron de Nairac,* her landlord, for turning her 
 out of possession of a farm which was her whole dependence. 
 
 * Pronounced Bar'-on de Na-rak. 
 6 
 
63 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. Domat heard the cause ; and finding by the clearest evi- 
 dence, that the woman had ignorantly broken a covenant in the 
 lease, which empowered the landlord to take possession of her 
 farm, he recommended mercy to the baron towards a poor hon- 
 est tenant, who had not willingly transgressed, nor done him any 
 material injury. But Nairac being inexorable,* the judge was 
 obliged to pronounce a sentence of expulsion from the farm, and 
 to order payment of the damages mentioned in the lease, toge- 
 ther with the costs of the suit. 
 
 3. In delivering this sentence, Domat wiped his eyes, from 
 which tears of compassion flowed plentifully. When the order 
 of seizure, both of her person and effects, was decreed, the poor 
 woman exclaimed : " O just and righteous God ! be thou a 
 father to the widow and her helpless orphans!" and immedi- 
 ately she fainted away. 
 
 4. The compassionate judge assisted in raising the distressed 
 woman ; and after enquiring into her character, the number of 
 her children, and other circumstances, generously presented her 
 with a hundred louis d'ors,t the amount of her damages and 
 costs, which he prevailed with the baron to accept as a full 
 recompense ; and the widow was restored to her farm. 
 
 5. Deeply affected with the generosity of her benefactor, she 
 said to him : " O, my lord ! when will you demand payment, 
 that I may lay up for that purpose ?" " I will ask it," replied 
 Domat, " when my conscience shall tell me I have done an im- 
 proper act." 
 
 LESSON XXXIL 
 
 The Prudent Judge — an Eastern Tale. — Mass. Magazine. 
 
 1. A MERCHANT, who, ou accouut of business, was obliged 
 to visit foreign countries, intrusted to a dervis, whom he consid- 
 ered as his friend, a purse, containing a thousand sequins, and 
 begged him to keep it until he should return. At the end of 
 one year, the merchant returned, and asked for his money ; but 
 the deceitful dervis affirmed, that he had never received any. 
 
 3. The merchant, fired with indignation at this perfidious 
 behaviour, applied to the cadi.J " You have had more honesty 
 than prudence," said the judge : " you ought not to have placed 
 
 * Pronounced In-cx'-o-ra-ble. 
 
 t Pronounced lu'-e-dores, a gold coin of France, valued at S4 44 cents, or 
 li. sterling. 
 t Cadi< a Turkisli magistrate. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 63 
 
 so much confidence in a man, of whose fidelity you were not 
 sufficiently assured. It ^\'ill be difficult to compel this cheat 
 to restore a deposit which he received when no witnesses were 
 present. Go to him again," added he, " address him in a 
 friendly manner, Avithout informing him that I am acquainted 
 with the affair, and return to me to-morrow at this hour." 
 
 3. The merchant obeyed ; but, instead of getting his money, 
 he received only abuse. While the debtor and creditor were 
 disputing, a slave arrived from the cadi, who invited the dervis 
 to pay a visit to his master. The dervis accepted the invitation. 
 
 4. He was introduced into a grand apartment, received with 
 friendship, and treated with the same respect as if he had been 
 a man of the most distinguished rank. The cadi discoursed 
 with him upon diflerent subjects, among which he occasionally 
 introduced, as an opportunity presented, the highest encomiums 
 on the wisdom and knowledge of the dervis. 
 
 5. When he thought he had gained his confidence by praises 
 and flattery, he informed him that he had sent for him in order 
 to give him the most convincing proof of his respect and esteem. 
 " An affair of the greatest importance," says he, " obliges me 
 to be absent for a few months. I cannot trust my slaves, and 
 I am desirous of putting my treasures into the hands of a man, 
 who, like you, enjoys the most unspotted reputation. 
 
 6. "If you can take the charge of them, without impeding your 
 own occupations, I shall send you, to-morrow night, my most 
 valuable efliects ; but, as this affair requires great secrecy, I shall 
 order the faithful est of my slaves to deliver them to you as a 
 present which I make you." 
 
 - 7. At these Avords, an agreeable smile was diffused over the 
 countenance of the treacherous dervis. He made a thousand 
 rev^erences to the cadi ; thanked him for the confidence which 
 he reposed in him ; swore, in the strongest terms, that he would 
 preserve his treasure as the apple of his eye ; and retired, hug- 
 ging himself with joy at the thoughts of being able to overreach 
 the judge. 
 
 8. Next morning, the merchant returned to the cadi, and 
 informed him of the obstinacy of the dervis. " Go bark," said 
 the judge, " and if he persist in his refusal, threaten that you 
 will complain to me. I think you will not Jiave occasion to 
 repeat your menace." 
 
 9. The merchant immediately hastened to the house of his 
 debtor, and no sooner had he mentioned the name of the cadi, 
 than the dervis, who was afraid of losing the treasure that was 
 about to be entrusted to his care, restored the purse, and said, 
 
64 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 smiling, " My dear friend, why should you trouble the cadi ? 
 Your money was perfectly secure in my hands ; my refusal 
 was only a piece of pleasantry. I was desirous of seeing how 
 you would bear disappointment." 
 
 10. The merchant, however, was prudent enough not to be- 
 lieve what he had heard, and returned to the cadi, to thank 
 him for the generous assistance which he had given him. 
 
 11. Night approached, and the dervis prepared to receive 
 the expected treasure ; but the night passed, and no slaves ap- 
 peared. As soon as it was morning, the dervis repaired to 
 the judge's house. " I am come to know, Mr. Cadi," said he, 
 " why you have not sent your slaves, according to promise." 
 
 12. " Because I have learned from a merchant," said the 
 judge, " that thou art a perfidious wretch, whom justice will 
 punish as thou deservest, if a second complaint of the same 
 nature is brought against thee." The dervis, struck with this 
 reproof, made a profound reverence, and retired with precipi- 
 tation, without offering a single word in his own vindication. 
 
 LESSON XXXIII. 
 
 The Fox and the Cat. 
 
 1. The Fox and the Cat, as they travelled one day, 
 With moral discourses cut shorter the way. 
 
 *"Tis great (says the Fox) to make justice our guide !" 
 " How godlike is mercy !" — Grimalkin* replied. 
 
 2. Whilst thus they proceeded, a Wolf from the wood, 
 Impatient of hunger, and thirsting for blood, 
 Rush'd forth, as he saw the dull shepherd asleep. 
 And seized for his supper an innocent Sheep. 
 
 " In vain, wretched victim, for mercy you bleat. 
 When mutton's at hand, (says the Wolf,) I must eat." 
 
 3. Grimalkin's astonished — The Fox stood aghast, 
 To see the fell beast at his bloody repast ; 
 
 "What a wretch (sings the Cat) — 'tis the vilest of brutes; 
 Does he feed upon flesh, when there's herbage and roots ?" 
 Cries the Fox, "while our oaks give us acorns so good. 
 What a tyrant is this to spill innocent blood !" 
 
 4. Well, onward they march'd, and they moralized still. 
 
 Till they came where some poultry pick'd chaff by a mill ; 
 
 * Grimalkin, an old cat. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 65 
 
 Sly Renard surveyed them with gluttonous eyes, 
 And made (spite of morals) a Chicken his prize. 
 A Mouse too, that chanc'd from her cover to stray. 
 The greedy Grimalkin secured as her prey. 
 
 5. A Spider that sat in her web on the wall, 
 
 Perceiv'd the poor victims, and pitied their fall ; 
 She cried — " of such murders how guiltless am I !" 
 So ran to regale on a new taken Fly. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 The faults of our neighbors with freedom we blame, 
 But tax not ourselves, though we practise the same. 
 
 LESSON XXXIV. 
 
 Might makes Right, 
 
 1. A Sparrow perched upon a bough, 
 Spied a poor beetle creep below. 
 
 And picked it up. " Ah, spare me, spare ! — " 
 The insect prayed : but vain its prayer. 
 " Wretch !" cries the murderer, " hold thy tongue, 
 For thou art weak, and I am strong." 
 
 2. A hawk beheld him, and in haste, 
 Sharpens his beak for a repast. 
 
 And pounces plump upon him. " O,** 
 Exclaims the sparrow, " let me go." 
 "Wretch !" cries the murderer, "hold thy tongue, 
 For thou art weak, and I am strong." 
 
 3. The hawk was munching up his prey, 
 When a stout eagle steer'd that way. 
 And seized upon him. " Sure, comrade. 
 You'll spare my life — we're both a trade /" 
 
 " Wretch !" cried the murderer, "hold thy tongue. 
 For thou art weak, and I am strong." 
 
 4. A sportsman saw the eagle fly. 
 
 He shot, and brought him from the sky : 
 The dying bird could only groan, 
 " Tyrant ! what evil have I done ?" 
 " Wretch !" cries the murderer, "hold thy tongue, 
 For thou art weak, and I am strong." 
 6* 
 
66 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. 'Tis thus that man to man behaves ; 
 Witness the planter and his slaves. 
 'Tis thus that state oppresses state, 
 And infant freedom meets its fate. 
 " Wretch !" cries the stronger, " hold thy tongue, 
 For thou art weak, and I am strong." 
 
 LESSON XXXV. 
 
 Tlie Lion and Dog. 
 
 \. It was customary for those who were unable to pay six- 
 pence for the sight of the wild beasts in the Tower, to bring a 
 dog or a cat, as a gift to the beasts, in lieu of money to the 
 keeper. Among others, a man had brought a pretty black 
 spaniel, which was thrown into the cage of the great lion. — 
 Immediately the little animal trembled and shivered, crouched, 
 and threw itself on its back, put forth its tongue, and held up its 
 paws, as if praying for merry. 
 
 2. In the mean time, the lion, instead of devouring it, turned 
 it over with one paw, and then turned it with the other. He 
 smelled of it, and seemed desirous of courting a further acquain- 
 tance. The keeper, on seeing this, brought a large mess of his 
 own family dinner. But the lion kept aloof, and refused to eat, 
 keeping his eye on the dog, and inviting him, as it were, to be 
 his taster. 
 
 3. At length, the little animal's fears being somewhat abated, 
 and his appetite quickened by the smell of the victuals, he ap- 
 proached slowly, and, with trembling, ventured to eat. The 
 lion then advanced gently, and began to partake, and they fin- 
 ished their meal very quietly together. 
 
 4. From tliis day, a strict friendship commenced between 
 them, consisting of great aflection and tenderness on the part of 
 the lion, and of the utmost confidence and boldness on the part 
 of the dog ; insomuch that he would lay himself down to sleep 
 within the fangs and under the jaws of his terrible patron. 
 
 5. In about twelve months, the little spaniel sickened and 
 died. For a time, the lion did not appear to conceive other- 
 wise than that his favorite was asleep. He would continue to 
 smell of him, and then would stir him with his nose, and turn 
 him oxev with liis paws. 
 
 6. But, finding that all his efforts to wake him were vain, he 
 would traverse his cage from end to end at a swift and uneasy 
 pace. He would then stop, and look down upon hijn with a 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 67 
 
 fixed and drooping regard ; and again lift up his head, and roar 
 for several minutes, as the sound of distant thunder. 
 
 7. They attempted, but in vain, to convey the carcase from 
 him. He watched it continually, and would suffer nothing to 
 touch it. The keeper then endeavored to tempt him with a 
 variety of food, but he turned from ail that was offered, with 
 loathino-. 
 
 8. They then put several living dogs in his cage, which he 
 tore in pieces, but left their members on the floor. His pas- 
 sions being thus inflamed, he would grapple at the bars of his 
 cage, as if enraged at his restraint from tearing those around 
 him to pieces. 
 
 9. Again, as if quite spent, he would stretch himself by the 
 remains of his beloved associate, lay his paws upon him, and 
 take him to his bosom ; and then utter his grief in deep and 
 melancholy roaring, for the loss of his little play-fellow, his 
 late friend, the only companion of his den. 
 
 10. For five days, he thus languished, and graduallj'^ declined, 
 without taking any sustenance or admitting any comfort, till, 
 one morning, he was found dead, with his head reclined on the 
 carcase of his little friend. They were both interred together. 
 
 LESSON XXXVL 
 
 Scene from. " the Poor Gentleman.'''' 
 
 SIR ROBERT, FREDERICK, AND HUMPHREY. 
 
 Enter Frederick, hastily. 
 
 Fred. O my dear uncle, good morning ! your park* is no- 
 thing but beauty. 
 
 Sir Rob. Who bid you caper over my beauty? I told you 
 to stay in doors till I got up. 
 
 Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it. 
 
 Sir Rob. And pray what made you forget it ? 
 
 Fred. The sun. 
 
 Sir Rob. The sun ! he's mad ! you mean the moon I be- 
 lieve. 
 
 Fred. O my dear uncle, you don't know the eflect of a fine 
 spring morning upon a young fellow just arrived from ilussia. 
 The day looked bright, trees budding, birds singing, the park 
 was so gay, that I took a leap out of your old balcony, made 
 your deer fly before me hke the wind, and chased them all round 
 the park, to get an appetite while you were snoring in bed, uncle. 
 
 * Park, a large piece of ground enclosed, in wiaich deer and other beasts 
 of chase are kept. 
 
68 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Sir Rob. Oh, oh ! So the effect of English sunshine upon a 
 Russian is to make him jump out of a balcony and worry my 
 deer. 
 . Fred. I confess it had that influence upon me. 
 
 Sir Rob. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, 
 unless you think the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy. 
 
 Fred. I hate legacies. 
 
 Sir Rob. Sir, that's mighty singular. They are pretty solid 
 tokens at least. 
 
 Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle ; they are the posthu- 
 mous despatches which affection sends to gratitude to inform 
 us we have lost a gracious friend. 
 
 Sir Rob. How charmingly the dog argues. 
 
 Fred. But I own my spirits run away with me this morning. 
 I will obey you better in future ; for they tell me you are a 
 very worthy, good sort of old gentleman. 
 
 Sir Rob. Now, who had the familiar impudence to tell you 
 that ? 
 
 Fred. Old rusty, there. 
 
 Sir Rob. Why, Humphrey, you didn't ? 
 
 Humph. Yes, but I did, though. 
 
 Fi'ed. Yes he did, and on tliat score I shall be anxious to 
 show you obedience, for 'tis as meritorious to attempt sharing 
 a good man's heart, as it is paltry to have designs upon a rich 
 man's money. A noble nature aims its attentions full breast 
 high, uncle ; a mean mind levels its dirty assiduities at the 
 pocket. 
 
 Sir Rob. {shakins;- him by the hand.) Jump out of ewry 
 window I have in the house ; hunt my deer into high fevers, 
 my fine fellow. Ay, that's right, this is spunk and plain speak- 
 ing. Give me a man who is always plumping his dissent to 
 my doctrines smack in my teeth 
 
 FYed. I disagree with you there, uncle. 
 
 Humph. And so do I. 
 
 F'ed. You, you forward puppy ! If you were not so old, 
 I'd knock you down. 
 
 Sir Rob. I'll knock you down if you do. I wont have my 
 ser\ctnls thump'd into dumb flattery ; I wont let you teach 'em 
 to make silence a toad-eater. 
 
 Humph. Come, you are rufl^ed. Let us go to the business 
 of the morning. 
 
 Sir Rob. I hate the business of the morning. Don't you 
 see we are engaged in discussion. I tell you, I hate the busi- • 
 ness of the morning. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 6^ 
 
 Humph. No, you don't. 
 
 Sir Rob. Don't I ? Why not ? 
 
 Humph. Because it's charity. 
 
 Sir Rob. Pshaw,* then. Well, we must not neglect the 
 business, if there be any distress in the parish ; read the list, 
 Humphrey. 
 
 {Humphrey takes out a paper and reads.) " Jonathan Hug- 
 gins of Muck Mead is put in prison." 
 
 Sir Rob. Why, it was only last week that Gripe, the attor- 
 ney,! recovered two cottages for him by law, worth sixty pounds. 
 
 Humph. And charged a hundred for his trouble ; so seiz'd 
 the cottages for part of his bill, and threw Jonathan into jail 
 for the remainder. 
 
 Sir Rob. A harpy !J I must relieve the poor fellow's distress. 
 
 Fred. And I must kick his attorney. 
 
 Humph, {reading.) " The curate's || horse is dead." 
 
 Sir Rob. Pshaw — there's no distress in that. 
 
 Humph. Yes, there is, to a man that must go twenty miles 
 every Sunday to preach, for thirty pounds a year. 
 
 Sir Rob. Why won't the vicar'^ give him another nag ? 
 
 Humph. Because 'tis cheaper to get another curate ready 
 mounted. 
 
 Sir Rob. Well, send him the black pad which I purchased 
 ,ast Tuesday, and tell him to '.v ork him as long as he lives. — 
 What else have we upon the list ? 
 
 Humph. Somewhat out of the common — there's one lieu- 
 tenant Worthington, a disabled oflicer, and a widower, come to 
 lodge at farmer Harrowby's in the village ; he is, it seems, very 
 poor, but more proud than poor, and more honest than prouu. 
 
 *S/7' Rob. And so he sends to me for assistance ! 
 
 Humph. No, he'd sooner die than ask you or any man for 
 a shilling ! there's his daughter, and his dead wife's aunt, and 
 an old corporal that has served in the wars with him — he keeps 
 them all upon half pay. 
 
 Sir Rob. Starves them all, I'm afraid, Humphrey. 
 
 Fred, {going.) Good morning, uncle.' 
 
 Sir Rob. You rogue, where are you running now ? 
 
 Fred. To talk to lieutenant W^orthington. 
 
 Sir Rob. And what may you be going to say to him ? 
 
 * Pronounced shaw. t Pronounced at-tur'-ne. 
 
 t Harpy, a fabulous winged monster, noted for its voraciousness and pol- 
 lution. 
 
 II Curate, a clergyman employed in the place of a vicar. 
 § Pronounced vic'-ar, the priest of a parish. 
 
70 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Fred. I can't tell 'till I encounter him, and then, uncle, 
 when I have an old gentleman by the hand who is disabled in 
 his country's service, and struggling to support his motherless 
 child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honorable 
 indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my 
 sentiments. 
 
 Sir Rob. Stop, you rogue, I must be before you in this 
 business. 
 
 Fred. That depends upon who can run fastest ; so start 
 fair, uncle, and here goes — {runs out.) 
 
 Sir Rob. Stop, stop ; why, Frederick — a jackanapes — to 
 take my department out of my hands. I'll disinherit the dog 
 for his assurance. 
 
 Humph. No, you won't. 
 
 Sir Rob. Won't I ? Hang me if — but we'll argue that point 
 as we go. So, come along, Humphrey. [Exeunt. 
 
 LESSON XXXVII. 
 Scene between Captain Tackle arid Jack Bowlin. 
 
 Bowl. Good day to your honor. 
 
 Capt. Good day, honest Jack. 
 
 Bowl. To-day is my captain's birth-day. 
 
 Capt, I know it. 
 
 Bowl. I am heartily glad on the occasion. 
 
 Capt. I know that too. 
 
 Bowl. Yesterday your honor broke your sea-foam pipe. 
 
 Capt. Well, sir booby, and why must I be put in mind of 
 it ? it was stupid enougli to be sure, but hark ye. Jack, all men 
 at limes do stupid actions, but I never met with one who liked 
 to be reminded of them. 
 
 Bowl. I meant no harm, your honor. It was only a kind 
 of introduction to M'hat I was going to say. I have been buying 
 this pipe-head and ebony-tube, and if the thing is not too bad, 
 and my captain will talce such a present on his birth-day, for 
 the sake of poor old Jack 
 
 Capt. Is that what you would be at — Come, let's see. 
 
 Bowl. To be sure, it is not sea-foam ; but my captain must 
 think, when he looks at it, that the love of old Jack was not 
 mere foam neither. 
 
 Capt. Give it here, my honest fellow. 
 
 Bowl. You will take it ? 
 
 Capt. To be sure I will. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 71 
 
 Bowl And will smoke it ? 
 
 Capt. That I will {feeling in his pocket.) 
 
 Bowl. And will not think of giving me any thing in return ? 
 
 Capt. ( Withdrawing his hand from his pocket.) No, no — 
 You are ri<rht. 
 
 Bowl. Huzza! now let mother Grimkin bake her almond 
 cakes out of her daily pilferings and be hanged. 
 
 Capt. Fie, Jack ! what's that you say ! 
 
 Boivl. The truth. I have just come from the kitchen, where 
 she is making a great palaver about "her cake" and "her cake," 
 and yet this morning slie must be put in mind that it was her 
 master's birth-day. Hang me, I have thought of nothing else 
 this month. 
 
 Capt. And because you have a better memory, you must 
 blame the poor womian. Shame on you. 
 
 Bowl. Please your honor, she is an old 
 
 Capt. Avast ! 
 
 BoidI. Yesterday she made your wine cordial of sour beer, 
 80 to-day she makes you an almond cake of 
 
 Capt. Hold your tongue, sir. 
 
 Bowl. A'nt you obliged to beg the necessaries of life as if 
 she were a pope or admiral ? and last year when you were bled, 
 though she had laid up chest upon chest full of linen, and all 
 your's if the truth was known, yet no bandage was found till I 
 tore the spare canvass from my Sunday shirt to rig your honor's 
 arm. 
 
 Capt. You are a scandalous fellow, [throws the pipe back 
 to him^) away with you and your pipe. 
 
 Bowl. {Loohiiig attentively at his master and the pipe.) 
 I am a scandalous fellow ? 
 
 Capt. Yes! 
 
 Bowl. Your honor will not have the pipe ? 
 
 Capt. No ; I will take nothing from him who would raise 
 his own character at the expense of another old servant. 
 
 (Jack takes up the pipe and throws it out of the window.) 
 What are you doing ? 
 
 Bowl. Throwing the pipe out of the window. 
 
 Capt. Are you mad ? 
 
 Bowl. Why, what should I do with it ? You will not have 
 it, and it is impossible for me to use it, for as often as I should 
 puff away the smoke, I should think, " Old Jack Bowlin, what 
 a pitiful scamp you must be, a man whom you have served 
 honestly and truly these thirty years, and who must know you 
 from stem to stern, sa3''s you are a scandalous fellow," and the 
 
72 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 thought would make me weep like a child. But when the pipe 
 is gone, I shall try to forget the whole business, and say to my- 
 self, " my poor old captain is sick, and does not mean what he 
 said." 
 
 Capt. Jack, come here. (Takes his hand.) I did not mean 
 what I said. 
 
 Bowl. [Shakes his hand heartily.) I knew it, I knew it. 
 I have you and your honor at heart, and when I see such an 
 old hypocritical bell-wether cheating you out of your hard 
 earned wages, it makes my blood boil 
 
 Capt. Are you at it again? Shame on you. You have open- 
 ed your heart to-day, and given me a peep into its lowest hold. 
 
 Bowl. So much the better ! for you will then see that my 
 ballast is love and truth to my master. But hark ye, master, 
 it is certainly worth your while to enquire into the business. 
 
 Capt. And hark ye, fellow, if I find you have told me a lie, 
 I'll have no mercy on you. I'll turn you out of doors to starve 
 in the street. 
 
 Bowl. No, captain, you won't do that. 
 
 Capt. But I tell you I will, though. I will do it. And if 
 you say another word I'll do it now. 
 
 Bowl. Well, then away goes Jack to the hospital. 
 
 Capt. What's that you say? hospital! hospital! you rascal! 
 what will you do there ? 
 
 Bowl. Die. 
 
 Capt. And so you will go and die in an hospital, will you ? 
 Why — why — you lubber, do you think I can't take care of 
 you after I have turned you out of doors, hey ? 
 
 Bowl. Yes, I dare say you would be willing to pay my 
 board, and take care that I did not want in my old days, but I 
 would sooner beg than pick up money so thrown at me. 
 
 Capt. Rather beg ! there's a proud rascal ! 
 
 Bowl. He that don't love me must not give me money. 
 
 Capt. Do you hear that ? Is not this enough to give a sound 
 man the gout. You sulky fellow, do you recollect twenty years 
 ago, when we fell into the clutches of the Algerines.* The 
 pirates stripped me of my last jacket, but you, you lubber, 
 who was it hid two pieces of gold in his hair, and who was it 
 that half a year afterwards, when we were ransomed and turned 
 naked on the world, shared his money and clothes with me ? 
 Hey, fellow, and now you would die in a hospital. 
 
 Bowl. Nay but captain 
 
 * Algerines, natives of Algiers, a city and government on the c^iast of 
 Africa. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 73 
 
 Ca'pt. And when my ship's crew mutinied, at the risk of his 
 life he disclosed the plot. Have you forgotten it, you lubber? 
 
 Bowl. Well, and didn't you build my old mother a house for 
 it? 
 
 Capt. And when we had boarded the French privateer,* 
 and the captain's hangerf hung over my head, "didn't you strike 
 off the arm that was going to split my skull! Have you forgot 
 that too ? Have I built you a house for that ? Will you die in 
 a hospital now — you ungrateful dog ! hey ? 
 
 Bowl. My good old master ! 
 
 Capt. Would you have it set on my tomb stone, "here lies 
 an unthankful hound, who let his preserver and mess-mate die 
 in a hospital," would you ? Tell me this minute you will live 
 and die by me, you lubber ! Come here and give me your hand ! 
 
 Bowl. {Going towards hhn.) My noble, noble master. 
 
 Capt. Avast. Stand off, take care of my lame leg; yet I 
 had rather you should hurt that than my heart, my old boy. — . 
 {Shakes his hand heartily.) Now go and bring me the pipe. 
 Stop, let me lean on you, and I will go down and get it myself, 
 and use it on my birth-day. You would die in an hospital, 
 would you, you unfeeling lubber ? 
 
 LESSON XXXVHL 
 
 The Gentleman and his Tenant. 
 
 1. A COUNTRY gentleman had an estate of two hundred 
 pound s| a year, which he kept in his own hands till he found 
 himself so much in debt, that he was obliged to sell one half to 
 satisfy his creditors, and let the remainder to a farmer for one 
 and twenty years. 
 
 2. Before the expiration of his lease, the farmer asked the 
 gentleman, when he came one day to pay his rent, whether he 
 would sell the land he occupied. " Why, will you purchase it ?" 
 said the gentleman. " If you will part with it, and we can 
 agree," replied the farmer. 
 
 3. "That is exceeding strange," said the gentleman. "Pray, 
 tell me how it happens, that I could not live upon twice as much 
 
 ♦ Privateer, a ship, or vessel of war, owned and fitted out by a private 
 man, or individuals, and commissioned by government t^ seize the saips of 
 an enemy in war. 
 
 t Hanger, a short broad sword. 
 
 t A pound sterling is four dollars forty-four cents — 200 pounds ie 888 
 doUaTB. 
 
 7 
 
74 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 land, for which I paid no rent, and that you, after regularly 
 paying me a hundred a year for the half, are able, so soon, to 
 purchase it." 
 
 4. " The reason is plain," answered the farmer. — " You sat 
 still, and said, Go. I stood up, and said. Come. You lay in 
 bed, and enjoyed your ease. I rose in the morning, and minded 
 my business." 
 
 LESSON XXXIX. 
 Dishonesty Punished. — Kane's Hints. 
 
 1. An usurer,* having lost a hundred pounds in a bag, 
 promised a reward of ten pounds to the person who should 
 restore it. A man having brought it to him, demanded the 
 reward. 
 
 The usurer, loth to give the reward, now that he had got 
 the bag, alleged, after the bag was opened, that there were a 
 hundred and ten pounds in it, when he lost it. The usurer, 
 being called before the judge, unwarily acknowledged that the 
 seal was broken open in his presence, and that there were no 
 more at that time than a hundred pounds in the bag. 
 
 3. " You say," says the judge, " that the bag you lost had 
 a hundred and ten pounds in it." " Yes, my lord." " Then," 
 replied the judge, " this cannot be your bag, as it contained 
 but a hundred pounds; therefore the plaintiff must keep it till 
 the true owner appears : and you must look for your bag 
 where you can find it." 
 
 LESSON XL. 
 
 SOCRATEsf AND LEANDER. 
 
 Disrespect to Parents^ is in no case allowable. 
 
 1. Leander, the eldest son of Socrates, fell into a violent 
 passion with his mother. Socrates was witness to this shame- 
 ful misbehavior, and attempted the correction of it, in the fol- 
 lowing gentle and rational manner. 
 
 2. " Come hither, son," said he ; " have you never heard of 
 men, who are called ungrateful?" "Yes, frequently," answered 
 
 * Usurer, one who lends money, and takes unlawful interest. 
 
 f Socrates, the greatest of the ancient philosophers, was born at Athens in 
 Greece, 467 B.C. He was unjustly condemned to death by the Athenians, 
 on a charge of atheism, 400 B. C. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. liS^ 
 
 the youth. " And what is ingratitude ?" demanded Socrates. 
 " It is to receive a kindness," said Leander, " without making 
 a proper return, when there is a favorable opportunity." 
 
 3. "Ingratitude is therefore a species of injustice," said 
 Socrates. " I should think so," answered Leander. " If, 
 then," pursued Socrates, " ingratitude be injustice, does it not 
 follow, that the degree of it must be proportionate to the mag- 
 nitude of the favors which have been received ?" Leander 
 admitted the inference ; and Socrates thus pursued his interro- 
 gations : 
 
 4. " Can there subsist higher obligations than those which 
 children owe to their parents ; from whom life is derived and 
 supported, and by whose good oilices it is rendered honorable, 
 useful, and happy ?" " I acknowledge the truth of what you 
 say," replied Leander ; " but who could suffer, -without resent- 
 ment, the ill humors of such a mother as I have ?" " What 
 strange thing has she done to you ?" said Socrates. 
 
 5. "She has a tongue," replied Leander, "that no mortal 
 can bear." "How much more," said Socrates, "has she en- 
 dured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and incessant cries, in 
 the period oi infancy ! What anxieties has she suffered from 
 the levities, ca})riciousness, and follies, of your childhood and 
 youth ! What afiliction has she felt, what toil and watching has 
 she sustained, in your illnesses ! These, and various other pow- 
 erful motives to filial duty and gratitude, have been recognised* 
 by the legislators of our republic. For if any be disrespect- 
 ful to his parents, he is not permitted to enjoy any post of trust 
 or honor. 
 
 6. " It is believed that a sacrifice, offered by an impious 
 hand, can neither be acceptable to Heaven nor proiitable to the 
 state ; and that an undutiful son cannot be capable of perform- 
 ing any great action, or of executing justice with impartiality. 
 Therefore, my son, if you be wise, you will pray to heaven to 
 pardon the offences committed against your mother. 
 
 7. " Let no one discover the contempt with which you have 
 treated her ; for the world will condemn, and abandon you for 
 such behavior. And if it be even suspected, that you repay 
 with ingratitude the good offices of your parents, you will inevi- 
 tably forego the kindness of others ; because no man will sup- 
 pose, that you have a heart to requite either his favors or his 
 friendship." 
 
 Pronounced Rec'-og-nizd. 
 
W NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 LESSON XLL 
 
 SOCRATES AND DEMETRIUS. 
 
 Brethren should dwell together in harmony. 
 
 1. Two brothers, named Timon and Demetrius, having quar- 
 relled with each other, Socrates, their common friend, was soli- 
 citous to restore amity between them. Meeting, therefore, with 
 Demetrius, he thus accosted him : " Is not friendship the sweet- 
 est solace in adversity, and the greatest enhancement of the 
 blessings of prosperity ?" " Certainly it is," replied Demetrius ; 
 " because our sorrows are diminished, and our joys increased 
 by sympathetic participation." 
 
 2. "Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend?" said 
 Socrates. " Would you search among strangers ? They can- 
 not be interested about you. Amongst your rivals ? They 
 have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who 
 are much older, or younger than yourself? Their feelings and 
 pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there not, 
 then, some circumstances favorable, and others essential, to the 
 formation of friendship ?" 
 
 3. " Undoubtedly there are," answered Demetrius. " May 
 we not enumerate," continued Socrates, " amongst the circum- 
 stances favorable to friendship, long acquaintance, common 
 connexions, similitude of age, and union of interest ?" " I 
 acknowledge," said Demetrius, " the powerful influence of these 
 circumstances : but they may subsist, and yet others be want- 
 ing, that are essential to mutual amity." 
 
 4. " And what," said Socrates, " are those essentials which 
 are wanting in Timon ?" " He has forfeited my esteem and 
 attachment," answered Demetrius, " And has he also forfeited 
 the esteem and attachment of the rest of mankind ?" continued 
 Socrates. " Is he devoid of benevolence, generosity, gratitude, 
 and other social aft'ections ?" " Far be it from me," cried Deme- 
 trius, " to lay so heavy a charge upon him : his conduct to 
 others is, I believe, irreproachable; and it wounds me the more, 
 that he should single me out as the object of hisunkindness." 
 
 5. " Suppose you have a very valuable horse," resumed 
 Socrates, " gentle under the treatment of others, but ungovern- 
 able, when you attempt to use him ; would you not endeavor 
 by all means, to conciHate his affection, and to treat him in the 
 way most likely to render liim tractable ? Or, if you have a dog, 
 highly prized for his fidelity, Avatchfulness, and care of your 
 flocks, who is fond of your shepherds, and playful with them> 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. ft 
 
 and yet snarls whenever you come in his way ; would you 
 attempt to cure him of this fault by angry looks or words, or by 
 any other marks of resentment ? You would surely pursue an 
 opposite course with him. 
 
 6. " And is not the friendship of a brother of far more worth, 
 than the services of a horse, or the attachment of a dog ? Why 
 then do you delay to put in practice those means, which may 
 reconcile you to Timon ?" "Acquaint me with those means," 
 answered Demetrius, " for I am a stranger to them." " Answer 
 me a few questions," said Socrates. 
 
 7. " If you desire that one of your neighbors should invite 
 you to his feast, when he offers a sacrifice, what course would 
 you take ?" — " I would first invite him to mine." — " And how 
 would you induce him to take the charge of your affairs, when 
 you are on a journey?" — "I should be forward to do the same 
 good office to him, in his absence." 
 
 8. " If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice, which he may 
 have received against you, how would you then behave towards 
 him ?" — " I should endeavor to convince him, by my looks, 
 words, and actions, that such prejudice was ill founded." — 
 " And if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, would you 
 reproach him with the injustice he had done you ?" " No," 
 answered Demetrius ; " I would repeat no grievances." 
 
 9. " Go," said Socrates, " and pursue that conduct towards 
 your brother, which you would practise to a neighbor. His 
 friendship is of inestimable worth ; and nothing- is more lovely 
 in the sight of Heaven, than for brethren to dwell together in 
 unity." 
 
 LESSON XLII. 
 
 The Dead Horse. — Sterne.* 
 
 1. And this, said he, putting the remains of a crust into his 
 wallet — and this should have been tliy portion, said he, hadst 
 thou been alive to have shared it with me. I thought by the 
 accent it had been an apostrophe to his child ; but it was to his 
 horse, and to the very horse we had seen dead in the road, 
 which had occasioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man 
 seemed to lament it much ; and it instantly brought into my 
 mind Sancho's lamentation for his ; but he did it with more true 
 touches of nature. 
 
 * Laurence bterne, an eminent writer, was born at Clomweil, in Ireland, 
 1713. He died HtiS, in London. 
 
 7* 
 
78 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. The mourner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, 
 with the horse's panncl and its bridle on one side, which he 
 took up from time to time — then laid them down — looked at 
 them, and shook his head. He then took his crust of bread out 
 of his wallet again, as if to eat it ; held it some time in his hand 
 — then laid it upon the bit of his horse's bridle — looked wistfully 
 at the little arrangement he had made — and then gave a sigh. 
 
 2. The simplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and 
 La Fleur among the rest, while the horses were getting ready ; 
 as I continued sitting in the post chaise, I could see and hear 
 over their heads. 
 
 4. He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been 
 from the farthest borders of Franconia:* and had got so far 
 on his return home, Avhen his horse died. Every one seemed 
 desirous to know what business could ha^e taken so old and 
 poor a man so far a journey from his own home. 
 
 5. " It had pleased Heaven," he said, " to bless him with 
 three sons, the finest lads in all Germany ; but having in one 
 week lost two of them by the small pox, and the youngest fall- 
 ing ill of the same distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of 
 them all, and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him from 
 him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Jago in Spain," 
 
 6. When the mourner got thus far in his story, he stopped to 
 pay nature her tribute — and wept bitterly. He said, " Heaven 
 had accepted the conditions ; and that he had set out from his 
 cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner 
 of his journey — that it had eaten the same bread with him all 
 the way, and was unto him as a friend." 
 
 7. Every body who stood about heard the poor fellow witii 
 concern. La Fleur offered him money — The mourner said he 
 did not want it — it was not the value of the horse — but the loss 
 of him — The horse, he said, he was assured loved him — and 
 upon this told them a long story of a mischance upon their pas- 
 sage over the Pyrenean mountains,! which had separated them 
 from each other three days ; during which time the horse had 
 sought him as much as he had sought the horse, and that neither 
 had scarce eat or drank till they met." 
 
 8. " Thou hast one comfort, friend," said I, "at least, in the 
 loss of thy poor beast ; I am sure thou hast been a merciful 
 master to him." — "Alas!" said the mourner, "I thought so, 
 when he was alive — but now he is dead, I think otherwise — I 
 
 * Formerly a province, or circle of Gorniany. 
 
 t Py-re'-ne-an mountains, between France and Spain. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 79 
 
 fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been 
 too much for him — they have shortened the poor creature's 
 days, and I fear I have 'them to answer for." — " Shame on the 
 world !" said I to myself—" Did we but love each other, as 
 this DOor soul loved his horse — 'twould be something." 
 
 LESSON XLIII. 
 
 Biogra/phical Anecdotes. 
 
 \. An amiable youth lamented, in terms of deep and moving 
 grief, the recent death of a most affectionate parent. His com- 
 panions made an effort to console him by the reflection, that he 
 nad always behaved towards the deceased with duty, tender- 
 ness, end respect. " So I thought,'' replied the youth, " while 
 my parent was living, but now recollect with pain and sor- 
 row, many instances of disobedience and neglect, for which, 
 alas ! it is too late to make atonement." 
 
 2. Sir Isaac Newton* possessed a remarkable mild and even 
 temper. This great man, on a particular occasion, was called 
 out of his study to an atljoining apartment. A little dog named 
 Diamond, the constant, but incurious attendant of his master's 
 researches, happened to be left amon? the papers ; he threw 
 down alighted candle, which consumed, in a moment, the almost 
 finished labors of many years. Sir Isaac soon returned, and 
 had the mortification to behold his irreparable loss. But, with 
 his usual self-possession, he only exclaimed, O Diamond ! Dia- 
 mond! thou little knowcst the mischief thou hast done. 
 
 3. Queen Caroline having observed that her daughter, the 
 princess, had made one of the ladies about her stand a long 
 time, while the princess was talking to her on some trifling 
 subject, was resolved to give a suitable reprimand. Therefore, 
 v/hen the princess came in the evening to read to her, as was 
 usual, and was drawing a chair to sit down, the queen said to 
 her, no, my dear, at present you must not sit ; for I intend to 
 make you stand this evening as long as you suffered lady 
 B to remain in the same position. 
 
 4. The benevolent and immortal John Howard,! having 
 settled his accounts at the close of a particular year, and found 
 a balance in his favor, proposed to his lady to employ it in 
 defravino- the expense of a jovrney to London, or any other 
 
 * All EngUrih philosopher, born in 1642. and died in 17"27. 
 t A celebrated EngUdh philanthropist, born in 17'2(>, and died 1790. His 
 life was devoted to the work of discovering and reibnning the evils of prisons. 
 
80 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 amusement which she might think preferable. " What a pretty 
 httlc cottage," she rephed, "would this build for a poor family.^' 
 This charitable hint met his cordial approbation, and the money 
 was laid out accordingly. 
 
 5. Horace, a celebrated Roman poet, relates that a country- 
 man, who wanted to pass a river, stood loitering on the banks 
 of it, in the foolish expectation, that a current so rapid would 
 soon discharge its waters. But the stream still flowed, (in- 
 creased perhaps by fresh torrents from the mountains,) and it 
 must for ever flow; because the source from which it is derived, 
 is inexhaustible. — Thus the idle and irresolute youth trifles 
 over his books, or squanders, in childish pursuits, his precious 
 moments, deferring the business of improvement, (which at 
 
 Jirst might be rendered easy and agreeable, but which, by de- 
 lay, becomes more and more difficult,) until the golden sands 
 of opportunity have all run, and he is called to action without 
 possessing the requisite ability. 
 
 6. Philip III. king of Spain, when he drew near the end of 
 his days, (seriously reflecting on his past life, and being greatly 
 affected by the remembrance of his misspent time,) expressed 
 his deep regret in the following terms: "Ah, how happy would 
 it have been for me, had I spent, in retirement, and the im- 
 provement of my mind, these twenty-three years that I possess- 
 ed my kingdom." 
 
 LESSON XLIV. 
 
 The Revenge of a Great Soul. 
 
 1. Demetrius Poliorcetes,* who had done singular services 
 for the people of the city of Athens, on setting out for a war 
 in which he was engaged, left his wife and children to their 
 protection. He lost the battle, and was obliged to seek secu- 
 rity for his person in flight. 
 
 2. He doubted not, at first, but that he should find a safe 
 asylum among his good friends, the Athenians ; but those un- 
 grateful people refused to receive him, and even sent back to 
 him his wife and children, under pretence, that they probably 
 might not be safe in Athens, where the enemy might come and 
 take th(;m. 
 
 . 3. This conduct pierced the heart of Demetrius; for nothing 
 is so affecting to an honest mind, as the ingratitude of those we 
 loVe, and to whom we have done singular services. Some time 
 
 ♦ PronounreJ Dc-me'-tri-us Po-li-or'-c^-tces, a king oi Maccdon. He 
 died 286 B. C. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 81 
 
 afterwards, this prince recovered his affairs, and came with a 
 large army to lay siege to Athens. 
 
 4. The Athenians, persuaded that they had no pardon to 
 expect from Demetrius, determined to die sword in hand, and 
 passed a decree, which condemned to death those who should 
 first propose to surrender to that prince ; but they did not re- 
 collect that there was but little corn in the city, and that they 
 would in a short time be in want of bread. 
 
 5. Want soon made them sensible of their error ; and, after 
 having suffered hunger for a long time, the most reasonable 
 among them said, " It would be better that Demetrius should 
 kill us at once, than for us to die by the lingering death of 
 famine. Perhaps he will have pity on our wives and children." 
 They then opened to him the gates of the city. 
 
 6. Demetrius having taken possession of the city, ordered 
 that all the married men should assemble in a spacious place 
 appointed for the purpose, and that the soldiery, sword in hand, 
 should surround them. Cries and lamentations were then 
 heard from every quarter of the city ; women embracing their 
 husbands, children their parents, and all taking an eternal fare- 
 well of each other. 
 
 7. When the married men were all thus collected, Demetrius, 
 for whom an elevated situation was provided, reproached them 
 for their ingratitude in the most feeling manner, insomuch that 
 he himself could not help shedding tears. Demetrius for some 
 time remained silent, while the Athenians expected, that the 
 next words he uttered would be to order his soldiers to mas- 
 sacre them all. 
 
 8. It is hardly possible to say what must have been their 
 surprise when they heard that good prince say, — " I wish to 
 convince you how ungenerously you have treated me ; for it 
 was not to an enemy you have refused assistance, but to a 
 prince who loved you, who still loves you, and who wishes to 
 revenge himself only by granting your pardon, and by being 
 still your friend. Return to your own homics : while you 
 have been here, my soldiers have been filling your houses with 
 provisions." 
 
 LESSON XLV. 
 
 Death of Prince William. — Goldsmith. 
 
 1. Henry I.* king of England, had a son called William, a 
 brave and active youth, who had arrived at his eighteenth year. 
 * Henry I. commenced his reign A. D. 1100. He died 1135. 
 
82 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 The king loved him most tenderly, and took care to have him 
 recognized as his successor by the states of England ; and car- 
 ried him over to Normandy, in the north of France, to receive 
 the homage of the barons of that duchy. 
 
 2. Having performed the requisite ceremony, the king set 
 sail for England, accompanied by a splendid retinue of the prin- 
 cipal nobility. William, his son, was detained by some acci- 
 dent, for several hours ; — and the crew having spent the inter- 
 val in drinking, became so intoxicated, that they ran the ship 
 upon a rock : and it was immediately dashed in pieces. 
 
 3. The prince was put into a boat, and might have escaped 
 had he not been called back by the cries of his sister. He pre- 
 vailed upon the sailors to row back and take her in ; — but no 
 sooner had the boat approached the wreck, than numbers who 
 had been left, jumped into it, and the whole were drowned. 
 King Henry, when he heard of the death of his son, fainted 
 away, and from that moment, he never smiled again. 
 
 He never smiled again, — Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 1. The bark* that held a prince went down, 
 The sweeping waves rolled on, 
 
 And what was England's glorious crown 
 
 To him that wept a son ? 
 He lived — for life may long be borne 
 
 Ere sorrow break its chain ; 
 Why comes not death to those who mourn ? 
 
 — He never smiled again. 
 
 2. There stood proud forms around his throne. 
 The stately and the brave ; 
 
 But which could fill the place of one ? 
 
 That one beneath the wave. 
 Before him passed the young and fair, 
 
 In pleasure's reckless train ; 
 But seas dash'd o'er his son's bright hair — 
 
 — He never smiled again. 
 
 3. He sat where festal bowls went round ; 
 He heard the minstrelf sing ; 
 
 He saw the tourney's J victor crowned, 
 Amidst the knightly ring. 
 
 * Bark, a small vessel. 
 
 t Minstrel, a singer and musical f>erformer on instruments. 
 
 t Pronounced tur'-ne, a martial sport or exercise. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. ^ 
 
 A murmur of the restless deep 
 
 Was blent with every stream ; 
 A voice of winds that would not sleep-^ 
 
 — He never smiled again. 
 
 4. Hearts in that time closed o'er the trace 
 
 Of vows once fondly pour'd ; 
 And strangers took the kinsman's place 
 
 At many a joyous board. 
 Graves which true love had bathed with tears, 
 
 Were left to heaven's bright rain ; 
 Fresh hopes were born for other years — 
 
 — He never smiled again. 
 
 LESSON XLVI. 
 
 The Shepherd and the Philosopher, 
 
 1. Remote from cities liv'd a swain,* 
 Unvex'd with all the cares of gain : 
 His head was silver'd o'er with age, 
 And long experience made him sage ; 
 In summer's heat and winter's cold, 
 He fed his flock and pcnn'd the fold ; 
 His hours in cheerful labor flew. 
 
 Nor envy nor ambition knew : 
 His wisdom and his honest fame 
 Through all the coimtry rais'd his name, 
 
 2. A deep philosopher, whose rules 
 Of moral life were drawn from schools. 
 The shepherd's homely cottage sought, 
 And thus explor'd his reach of thought. 
 
 "Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil 
 O'er books consum'd the midnight oil ? 
 Hast thou old Greece and Rome survey'd. 
 And the vast sense of Platof weigh'd ? 
 Hath Socrates thy soul refin'd, 
 And hast thou fathom'd Tully's:}; mind ? 
 
 ♦Swain, a shepherd. 
 
 t Plato, an illustrious Grecian philosopher— died at Athens, 348 B. C. 
 
 t Marcus TuUius Cicero, one of the greatest men of antiquity, whether we 
 consider him as an orator, a statesman, or philosopher. He was bom at Ar- 
 pinum, (now included in the kingdom of Naples,) 107 B. C. He waabase- 
 ly assassinated by order of Mark Anthony, 42 B. C, 
 
84 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Or, like the wise Ulysses,* thrown. 
 By various fates, on realms unknown. 
 Hast thou through many cities stray'd, 
 Their customs, laws, and manners weigh'd ?" 
 
 3. The shepherd modestly replied, 
 " I ne'er the paths of learning tried ; 
 Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts. 
 To read mankind, their laws and arts ; 
 For man is practis'd in disguise. 
 
 He cheats the most discerning eyes. 
 Who by that search shall wiser grow ? 
 By that ourselves we never know. 
 The little knowledge I have gain'd 
 Was all from simple nature drain'd ; 
 Hence my life's maxims took their rise, 
 Hence grew my settled hate of vice. 
 
 4. " The daily labors of the bee 
 Awake my soul to industry. 
 Who can observe the careful ant. 
 And not provide for future want? 
 My dog (the trustiest of his kind) 
 With gratitude inflames my mind. 
 I mark his true, his faithful way, 
 And in my service copy Tray ; 
 In constancy and nuptial love, 
 
 I learn my duty from the dove. 
 The hen, who from the chilly air, 
 With pious wing protects her care, 
 And every fowl that flies at large, ' 
 Instructs me in a parent's charge. 
 
 5. " From nature too, I take my rule, 
 To shun contempt and ridicule. 
 
 I never, with important air. 
 In conversation overbear. 
 Can grave and formal pass for wise. 
 When men the solemn owl despise ? 
 My tongue within my lips I rein ; 
 For who talks much, must talk in vain. 
 We from the wordy torrent fly ; 
 Who listens to the chatt'ring pief ? 
 
 ♦A Grecian commander at the siege of Troy. 
 
 t Pie^ the magpie, a chattering bird resembling a crow. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 85 
 
 Nor would I, with felonious flight, 
 By stealth invade my neighbor's right. 
 
 6. " Rapacious animals we hate ; 
 Kites, hawks, and wolves, deserve their fate. 
 Do not we just abhorrence find 
 Against the toad and serpent kind ? 
 But envy, calumny, and spite, 
 Bear stronger venom in their bite. 
 Thus ev'ry object of creation 
 Can furnish hints to contemplation ? 
 And from the most minute and mean, 
 A \irtuous mind can morals glean." 
 
 7. " Thy fame is just," the sage replies, 
 " Thy virtue proves thee truly wise. 
 Pride often guides the author's pen, 
 Books as affected are as men : 
 But he, who studies nature's laws. 
 From certain truth his maxims draws ; 
 And those without our schools, suffice 
 To make men moral, good, and wise." 
 
 LESSON XLVIL 
 
 The Youth and the Philosopher. —Whitehead. 
 
 ^tt]' ^ CrREciAN youth, of talcuts rare, 
 
 Whom Plato's philosophic care 
 
 Had formed for virtue's nobler view, 
 
 By precept and example too, 
 
 Would often boast his matchless skill, 
 
 To curb the steed, and guide the wheel ; 
 
 And as he pass'd the gazing throng, 
 
 With graceful ease, and smack'd the thonff, 
 
 1 he idiot wonder thev express'd. 
 
 Was praise and transport to his breast. 
 
 2. At length, quite vain, he needs would show 
 Wis master what his art could do ; 
 And bade his slaves the chariot lead 
 To Academus'* sacred shade. 
 
 
 8 
 
86 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 The trembling grove confessM its fright, 
 The wood-nymphs started at the sight ; 
 The muses drop the learned lyre, 
 And to their inmost shades retire. 
 
 3. Howe'er the youth with forward air, 
 Bows to the sage and mounts the car. 
 The lash resounds, the coursers spring. 
 The chariot marks the rolling ring ; 
 And gath'ring crowds, with eager eyes 
 And shouts, pursue him as he flies. 
 
 4. Triumphant to the goal* return'd. 
 With noble thirst his bosom burn'd ; 
 And now along the indented plain 
 The self-same track he marks again. 
 Pursues with care the nice design. 
 Nor ever deviates from the line. 
 Amazement seiz'd the circling crowd ; 
 The youths with emulation glow'd ; 
 Ev'n beardedf sages hail'd the boy ; 
 And all but Plato gaz'd with joy. 
 
 5. For he, deep-judging sage, beheld 
 With pain the triumphs of the field ; 
 And when the charioteer drew nigh. 
 
 And flush'd with hope, had caught his eye, 
 
 " Alas ! unhappy youth," he cry'd, 
 
 " Expect no praise from me," and sigh'd. 
 
 6. " With indignation I survey 
 Such skill and judgment thrown away : 
 The time profusely squandered there. 
 On vulgar arts beneath thy care. 
 
 If well employed, at less expense, 
 Had taught thee honor, virtue, sense ; 
 And rais'd thee from a coachman's fate 
 To govern men and guide the state." 
 
 LESSON XLVIII. 
 
 Naval Action. 
 
 1. Mr. Richard Hornby, of Stokesly, was master of a mer- 
 chant ship, the Isabella of Sunderland, in which he sailed from 
 the coast of Norfolk for the Hague, June 1, 1774, in company 
 with three smaller vessels recommended to his care. 
 
 ♦ Pronounced gole, a starting post. t Pronounced Beerd'-ed. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 87 
 
 2. Next day they made Gravesend steeple, in the Hague ; 
 but while they were steering for their port, the Brancas, a 
 French privateer, that lay concealed among the Dutch fishing 
 boats, suddenly came against them, singling out the Isabella, 
 as the object of attack, while the rest dispersed and escaped. 
 
 3. The strength of the two ships was most unequal ; for the 
 Isabella mounted only four carriage guns and two swivels, and 
 her crew consisted of only five men, three boys, besides the 
 captain ; while the privateer, commanded by Captain Andre, 
 had ten carriage guns and eight swivels, with seventy-five men 
 and three hundred small arms. Yet Captain Hornby was nothing 
 daunted. 
 
 4. Having animated his little crew by an appropriate ad- 
 dresi^, and obtained their promise of standing by him to the 
 last, he hoisted the British colors, and with his two swivel 
 guns returned the fire of the enemy's chase guns. The French- 
 man, in abusive terms, commanded him to strike.* 
 
 5. Hornby coolly returned an answer of defiance, on which 
 the privateer advanced, and poured such showers of bullets into 
 the Isabella, that the captain found it prudent to order his 
 brave fellows into close quarters. While he lay thus shelter- 
 ed, the enemy twice attempted to board him on the larboardf 
 quarter ; but by the dexterous turn of the helm, he frustrated 
 both attempts, though the Frenchman kept firing upon him 
 both with guns and small arms. 
 
 6. At two o'clock, when the action had lasted an hour, the 
 privateer, running furiously in upon the larboard of the Isabella, 
 entangled her bowsprit among the main shrouds, and was lash- 
 ed fast to her. — Captain Andre now bawled out in a menacing 
 tone, " You English dog, strike." Captain Hornby challenged 
 him to come on board and strike his colors if he dared. 
 
 7. The exasperated Frenchman instantly threw in twenty 
 men on the Isabella, who began to hack and hew into close 
 quarters; but a general discharge of blunderbusses^ forced the 
 assailants to retreat as fast as their wounds would permit. The 
 privateer, being now disengaged from the Isabella, turned 
 about and made another attempt on the starboard || side, when 
 the valiant Hornby and his mate, shot each his man, as the 
 enemy were again lashing the ships together. 
 
 ♦ Strike, to let down the flag or ensign, 
 t Larboard, the left hand side of the ship. 
 
 t Blunderbuss, a short gun, with a large bore, capable of |holding a num- 
 ber of balls. 
 
 II Starboard, the right hand side of the ship. 
 
88 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 8. The Frenchman once more commanded him to strike ; 
 and the brave Enghshman retm-ning another refusal, twenty 
 fresh men entered, and made a fierce attack on the close quar- 
 ters with hatchets and pole axes, with which they had nearly 
 cut their way through in three places, when the constant fire 
 kept up by Captain Hornby and his crew, obliged them a 
 second time to retreat, carrying their wounded with them, and 
 hauling their dead after them with boat hooks. 
 
 9. The Isabella continued still lashed to the enemy, the 
 latter with small arms, firing repeated volleys into her close 
 quarters ; but the fire was returned with such spirit and effect, 
 the Frenchman repeatedly gave way. 
 
 10. At length Captain Hornby, seeing them crowding be- 
 hind their mainmast for shelter, aimed a blunderbuss at tuem, 
 which, being by mistake doubly loaded, containing twice 
 twelve balls, burst in the firing, and threw him down, to the 
 great consternation of his little crew, who supposed him dead. 
 
 11. In an instant, however, he started up again, though 
 greatly bruised, while the enemy, among whom the blunder- 
 buss had made dreadful havoc, disengaged themselves from the 
 Isabella, to which they had been lashed an hour and a quar- 
 ter, and sheered oflf with precipitation, leaving their grap- 
 plings, and a quantity of pole-axes, pistols, and cutlasses be- 
 hind them. 
 
 12. The gallant Hornby now exultingly fired his two star- 
 board guns into the enemy's stern. The indignant Frenchman 
 immediately returned and renewed the conflict, which was car- 
 ried on yard-arm and yard-arm, with great fury for two hours 
 together. 
 
 13. The Isabella was shot through her hull* several times, 
 her sails and rigging were torn to pieces, her ensign was dis- 
 mounted, and every mast and yard damaged ; yet she still 
 bravely maintained the conflict, and at last, by a fortunate shot 
 which struck the Brancas between wind and water, obliged her 
 to sheer ofi" and careen. f 
 
 14. While the enemy were retiring, Hornby, and his little 
 crew, sallied out from their fastness, and, erecting their fallen 
 ensign, gave three cheers. By this time, both vessels had 
 driven so near the English shore, that immense crowds had 
 assembled to be spectators of the action. 
 
 15. The Frenchman, having stopped his leak, returned to 
 the combat, and poured a dreadful fire into the stern of the 
 
 * Hull, the bcxJy of a ship, exclusive of her masts yards, and rigging, 
 t Careen, to lie on one side. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 89 
 
 Isabella, when Captain Hornby was wounded by a ball in the 
 temple, and bled profusely. The sight of their brave comman- 
 der, streaming with blood, somewhat disconcerted his gallant 
 companions, but he called to them briskly to keep their courage 
 and stand to their aiaiis, for his wound was not dangerous. 
 
 16. On this their spirits revived, and again taking post in 
 their close quarters, they sustained the shock of three more 
 tremendous broadsides, in returning which, they forced the 
 Brancas, by another well aimed shot, to sheer off. The huz- 
 zas of the Isabella's crew were renewed, and they again set up 
 their shattered ensign, which was shot through and through 
 into honorable rags. 
 
 17. Andre, who was not deficient in bravery, soon returned 
 to the fight, and having disabled the Isabella, by five terrible 
 broadsides, once more summoned Hornby to strike his colors. 
 Captain Hornby turned to his gallant comrades. " You see 
 yonder, my lads," pointing to the shore, " the witnesses of your 
 valor." 
 
 18. It was unnecessary to say more ; they one and all assur- 
 ing him of their resolution to stand by him to the last ; and 
 finding them thus invincibly determined, he hurled his final 
 defiance at the enemy. 
 
 19. Andre immediately run his ship upon the Isabella's star- 
 board, and lashed close along side ; but his crew murmured, 
 and refused to renew the dangerous task of boarding, so that he 
 was obliged to cut the lashings, and again retreat. 
 
 20. Captain Hornby resolved to salute the privateer with a 
 parting gun ; and his last shot, fired into the stern of the Bran- 
 cas, happening to reach the magazine, it blew up with a terri- 
 ble explosion, and the vessel instantly went to the bottom. 
 Out of seventy-five men, thirty-six were killed or wounded in 
 the action, and all the rest, together with the wounded, perished 
 in the deep, except three, \vho were picked up by the Dutch 
 fishing boats. 
 
 21. This horrible catastrophe excited the compassion of the 
 brave Hornby and his men ; but they could unfortunately 
 render no assistance to their ill-fated enemies, the Isabella 
 having become unmanageable, and her boat being shattered to 
 pieces. 
 
 22. Captain Hornby afterwards received from his sovereign, 
 a large gold medal, in commemoration of his heroic conduct 
 on this occasion ; conduct, perhaps, not surpassed by any thing 
 in the annals of British naval prowess. 
 
 8* 
 
90 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 . \ 
 
 LESSON XLIX. 
 
 Damon and Pythias. 
 
 1. When Damon was sentenced by Dionysius, tyrant of 
 Sicily, to die on a certain day, he begged,permission to retire, 
 previous to his execution, to his own country, that he might 
 set in order the affairs of his disconsolate family. 
 
 2. This the tyrant intended peremptorily to refuse, by grant- 
 ing it on what he conceived to be the impossible condition of 
 his procuring some one to remain as security for his return 
 under equal forfeiture of his life. 
 
 3. Pythias, who was the friend of Damon, heard the condi- 
 tions, and did not wait for an application on the part of the 
 latter, but instantly offered to remain in his place ; which being 
 accepted, Damon was immediately set at liberty. 
 
 4. The king and all the courtiers were astonished at this 
 action ; and, therefore, when the day of execution drew near, 
 the tyrant had the curiosity to visit Pythias in his confinement. 
 
 5. After some conversation on the subject of friendship, in 
 which the tyrant delivered it as his opinion, that self-interest 
 was the sole mover of human actions; as for virtue, friendship, 
 benevolence, patriotism, and the like, he looked upon them as 
 terms invented by the wise to keej) in awe and impose upon the 
 weak : — 
 
 6. " My lord," said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble 
 aspect, "I would it were possible that I might suffer a thousand 
 deaths, rather than my friend should fail in any article of liis 
 honor ! He cannot fail therein, my lord ; I am as confident of 
 his virtue as I am of my own existence. But I pray, I beseech 
 the gods, to preserve the life and the integrity of Damon 
 together. 
 
 7. " Oppose him, ye winds ! prevent the eagerness and im- 
 patience of his honorable endeavors, and suffer him not to ar- 
 rive, till, by my death, I have redeemed a life a thousand times 
 more valuable than my own ; more estimable to his lovely 
 wife, to his innocent children, to his friends, and to his coun- 
 try. O leave me not to die the worst of deaths in that of my 
 friend !" 
 
 8. Dionysius was awed and confounded by the dignity of 
 these sentiments, and by the manner in which they were utter- 
 ed : he felt his heart struck by a slight sense of invading truth ; 
 but it served rather to perplex than to undeceive him. 
 
 9. The fatal day arrived : Pythias was brought forth, and 
 walked amidst the guards, with a serious but satisfied air, to the 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 91 
 
 place of execution. Dionyslus was already there ; he was 
 exalted on a moving throne, drawn by six white horses, and sat 
 pensive and attentive to the prisoner. 
 
 10. Pythias came ; he vaulted* lightly on the scaffold, and 
 beholding for a time the apparatus of death, he turned with a 
 placid countenance, and thus addressed the spectators : — " My 
 prayers are heard ; the gods are propitious ; you know, my 
 friends, that the winds have been contrary till yesterday. — 
 Damon could not come ; he could not conquer impossibilities ; 
 he will be here to-morrow, and the blood which is shed to-day 
 shall have ransomed the life of my friend. 
 
 11. " O ! could I erase from your bosoms every doubt, every 
 mean suspicion of the honor of the man for whom I am about 
 to suffer, I should go to my death with as much joy as to a 
 marriage feast. Be it sufficient, in the mean time, that my 
 friend will be found i^ble ; that his truth is unimpeachable ; 
 that he will speedily prove it ; that he is now on his way 
 hurrying forward,accusing himself, the adverse elements, and 
 fortune ; but I haste to prevent his speed : — Executioner ! 
 perform your duty." 
 
 12. As he pronounced the last word, a buzz began to rise 
 among the remotest of the people ; a distant voice was heard ; 
 the crowd caught the words, and " Stop, stop the execution,'* 
 was repeated by the whole assembly. 
 
 13. A man came at full speed ; the throng gave w^ay to his 
 approach ; he was mounted on a courser that almost flew ; in 
 an instant, he was off his horse, — on the scaffold, — and in the 
 arms of Pythias. 
 
 14. " You are safe," he cried, " my friend, my dearest 
 friend ! the gods be praised, you are safe ! I now have nothing 
 but death to suffer, and am delivered from the anguish of those 
 reproaches which I gave myself for having endangered a life 
 so much dearer than my own." 
 
 15. Pale, cold, and half speechless in the arms of his Damon, 
 Pythias replied in broken accents — " Fatal haste ! — Cruel im- 
 patience ! — What envious powers have wrought impossibilities 
 in your favor 1 But I will not be wholly disappointed. Since 
 I cannot die to save, I will not survive you." 
 
 16. Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with aston- 
 ishment. His heart was touched : he wept, and leaving his 
 throne, he ascended the scaffold. 
 
 ♦ Vaulted, leaped. 
 
92 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 17. " Live, live, ye incomparable pair !" he cried ; "Ye have 
 borne unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue ; and 
 that virtue equally evinces the existence of a God to reward it. 
 Live happy ; live renowned ; and, O, form me by your pre- 
 cepts, as ye have instructed me by your example, to be worthy 
 the participation of so sacred a friendship." 
 
 LESSON L. 
 
 Test of Goodness, 
 
 L Real goodness consists in doing good to our enemies. — 
 Of this truth the followmg apologue* may serve for an illustra- 
 tion. A certain father of a family, advanced in years, being 
 desirous of settling his worldly matters, divided his property 
 between his three sons. 
 
 2. " Nothing now remains," said he to them, " but a dia- 
 mond of great value ; this I have determined to appropriate to 
 w^hichever of you shall, within three months, perform the best 
 action." 
 
 3. His three sons accordingly departed different ways, and 
 returned by the limited time. On presenting themselves before 
 their judge, the eldest thus began. 
 
 4. " Father," said he, " during my absence, I found a stran- 
 ger so circumstanced, that he was under a necessity of entrust- 
 inor me with the whole of his fortune. He had no written se- 
 curity from me, nor could he possibly bring any proof, any 
 evidence whatever of the deposit. Yet I faithfully returned to 
 him every shilling. Was there not something commendable 
 in this action ?" 
 
 5. " Thou hix^^t done what was incumbent upon thee to do, 
 my son," replied the old man. " The man who could have 
 acted otherwise were unworthy to live : for honesty is a duty ; 
 thy action is an action of justice, not of goodness." 
 
 6. On this, the second son advanced. " In the course of my 
 travels," said he, " I came to a lake in which I beheld a child 
 struggling with death ; I plunged into it and saved his life in 
 the presence of a number of the neighboring villagers, all of 
 whom, can attest the truth of what I assert." 
 
 7. " It was well done, "interrupted the old man ; " you have 
 only obeyed the dictates of humanity." At length the young- 
 est of the three came forward. 
 
 ♦ Pronounced ap-o-Iog, a moral story or fable, intended to convey useful 
 truths. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 93 
 
 8. " I happened," said he, " to meet my mortal enemy, who, 
 having bewildered himself m the dead of night, had impercep- 
 tibly fallen asleep upon the brink of a frightful precipice. The 
 least motion would infallibly have plunged him headlong into 
 the a1)yss ; and though his life was in my hands, yet with every 
 necessary precaution, I awaked him, and removed him from his 
 danger." 
 
 9. " Ah, my son !" exclaimed the venerable good man with 
 transport, while he pressed him to his heart ; " to thee belongs 
 the diamond : well hast thou deserved it." 
 
 LESSON LI. 
 
 The mysterious Stranger. — Jane Taylor. 
 
 1. In a remote period of antiquity, when the supernatural 
 and the marvellous obtained a readier credence than now, it was 
 fabled that a stranger of extraordinary appearance was observed 
 j)assing the streets of one of the magnificent cities of the east, 
 remarking with an eye of intelligent curiosity every surrounding 
 object. 
 
 2. Several individuals gathering around him, questioned him 
 concerning his country and his business; but -they presently 
 perceived that he was unacquainted with their language, and 
 he soon discovered himself to be equally ignorant of the most 
 common usages of society. At the same time, the dignity and 
 intelligence of his air and demeanor forbade the idea of his 
 being either a barbarian or a lunatic. 
 
 3. When at length he understood by their signs, that they 
 wished to be informed whence he came, he pointed with great 
 significance to the sky ; upon which the crowd, concluding him 
 to be one of their deities, were proceeding to pay him divine 
 honors ; but he no sooner comprehended their design, than he 
 rejected it with horror ; and, bending his knees and raising his 
 hand toward heaven, in the attitude of prayer, gave them to 
 understand that he also was a worshipper of the powers above. 
 
 4. After a time, it is said, the mysterious stranger accepted 
 the hospitalities of one of the nobles of the city ; under whose 
 roof he applied himself with great diligence to the acquirement 
 of the language, in which he made such surprising proficiency, 
 that, in a few days, he was able to hold intelligent intercourse 
 with those around him. 
 
 5. The noble host now resolved to take an early opportunity 
 of satisfying his curiosity respecting the country and quality of 
 
94 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 his guest ; and, upon his expressing this desire, the stranger 
 assured him that he would answer his enquiries that evening 
 after sun-set. Accordingly, as night approached, he led him 
 forth upon the balconies of the palace, which overlooked the 
 wealthy and populous city. 
 
 6. Innumerable lights from its busy streets and splendid 
 palaces were now reflected in the dark bosom of its noble river; 
 where stately vessels, laden with rich merchandise from all parts 
 of the known world, lay anchored in the port. This was a city 
 in which the voice of the harp and the viol, and the sound of the 
 mill-stone, were continually heard — and craftsmen of all kinds 
 of craft were there — and the light of a candle Avas seen in every 
 dwelling — and the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the 
 bride were heard there. 
 
 7. The stranger mused awhile upon the glittering scene ; 
 and listened to the confused murmur of mingling sounds. Then 
 suddenly raising his eyes to the starry firmament, he fixed them 
 with an expressive gaze on the beautiful evening star which was 
 just sinking behind a dark grove that surrounded one of the 
 principal temples of the city. " Marvel not," said he to his 
 host, " that I am wont to gaze with fond afiection on yon 
 silvery star. 
 
 8. " That was my home — yes, I was lately an inhabitant of 
 that tranquil planet ; from whence a vain curiosity has tempted 
 me to wander. Often had I beheld, with wondering admira- 
 tion, this brilliant world of yours, even one of the brightest 
 gems of our firmament — and the ardent desire I had long felt 
 to know something of its condition, was at length unexpectedly 
 gratified. I received permission and power from above to 
 traverse the mighty void, and to direct my course to this distant 
 sphere. 
 
 9. " To that permission, however, one condition was annexed, 
 to which my eagerness for the enterprise induced me hastily to 
 consent — namely, that I must thenceforth remain an inhabitant 
 of this strange earth, and undergo all the vicissitudes to which 
 its natives are subject. Tell me, therefore, I pray you, what 
 is the lot of man — and explain to me more fully than I yet 
 understand, all that I hear and see around me." 
 
 10. " Truly, sir," replied the astonished noble, " although I 
 am altogether unacquainted with the manners and customs, 
 products and privileges of your country, yet, methinks, I cannot 
 but congratulate you on your arrival in our world ; especially 
 since it has been your good fortune to alight on a part of it 
 affording such various sources of enjoyment as this our opulent 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 95 
 
 and luxuriant city. And be assured it will be my pride and 
 pleasure to introduce you to all that is most worthy the atten- 
 tion of such a distinguished foreigner." 
 
 11. Our adventurer, accordingly, was presently initiated into 
 those arts of luxury and pleasure which were there well under- 
 stood. He was introduced by his obliging host to their public 
 games and festivals — to their theatrical diversions and convivial 
 assemblies ; and in a short time he began to feel some relish for 
 amusements, the meaning of which, at first, he could scarcely 
 comprehend. 
 
 12. The next lesson which it became desirable to impart to 
 him, was the necessity of acquiring wealth, as the only means 
 of obtaining pleasure. A fact which was no sooner understood 
 by the stranger, than he gratefully accepted the offer of his 
 friendly host to place him in a situation in which he might 
 amass riches. 
 
 13. To this object he began to apply himself with diligence ; 
 and was becoming in some measure reconciled to the manners 
 and customs of our planet, strangely as they differed from those 
 of his own, when an incident occurred which gave an entirely 
 new direction to his energies. It was but a few weeks after his 
 arrival on our earth, when, walking in the cool of the day with 
 his friend, in the outskirts of the city, his attention was arrested 
 by the appearance of a spacious enclosure near which they 
 passed. — He inquired the use to which it was appropriated. 
 
 14. " It is," replied the nobleman, " a place of public inter- 
 ment." " I do not understand you," said the stranger. "It is 
 the place," repeated his friend, " where we bury our dead." 
 " Excuse me, sir," replied his companion, with some embarrass- 
 ment. " I must trouble you to explain yourself yet further." 
 The nobleman repeated the information in still plainer terms. 
 " I am still at a loss to compreliend you perfectly," said the 
 stranger, turning deadly pale. " This must relate to something 
 of which I was not only totally ignorant in my own world, but 
 of which I have, as yet, had no intimation in yours. 
 
 15. " I pray you, therefore, to satisfy my curiosity ; for if I 
 have any clue to your meaning, this,, surely, is a matter of more 
 mighty concernment than any to which you have hitherto direct- 
 ed me." " My good friend," rephed the nobleman, "you must 
 be indeed a novice among us, if you have yet to learn that we 
 must all, sooner or later, submit to take our place in these dismal 
 abodes. 
 
 16. " Nor will I deny that it is one of the least desirable of 
 the circumstances which appertain to our condition ; for which 
 
96 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 reason it is a matter rarely referred to in polished society ; and 
 this accounts for your being hitherto uninformed on the subject. 
 But truly, sir, if the inhabitants of the place from whence you 
 came are not liable to any similar misfortune, I advise you to 
 betake yourself back again with all speed ; for be assured there 
 is no escape here — nor could I guaranty your safety even. for a 
 single hour !" 
 
 17. " Alas !" replied the adventurer, " I must submit to the 
 conditions of my enterprise, of which, till now, I little under- 
 stood the import. But explain to me, I beseech you, something 
 more of the nature and consequence of this wondrous change, 
 and tell me at what period it commonly happens to man." — 
 While he thus spoke, his voice faltered, and his whole frame 
 shook violently ; his countenance was as pale as death. 
 
 18. By this time his companion, finding the discourse becom- 
 ing more serious than was agreeable, declared he mustreferhim 
 to the priests for further information, this subject being very 
 much out of his province. " How !" exclaimed the stranger, 
 " then I cannot have understood you. Do the priests only die? 
 are not you to die also ?" 
 
 19. liis friend, evading these questions, hastily conducted 
 his importunate companion to one of their magnificent temples, 
 where he gladly consigned him to the instructions of the priest- 
 hood. The emotion which the stranger had betrayed, when 
 he received the first idea of death, was yet slight in comparison 
 with that which he experienced as soon as he gathered, from the 
 discourses of the priests, some notions of immortality, and of the 
 alternative of happiness or misery in a future state. 
 
 20. But this agony of mind Avas exchanged for transport, 
 when he learned that, by the performance of certain conditions 
 before death, the state of happiness might be secured. His 
 eagerness to learn the nature of these terms, excited the surprise 
 and even the contempt of his sacred teachers. They advised 
 him to remain satisfied for the present with the instructions he 
 had received, and defer the remainder of the discussion till 
 to-morrow. 
 
 21. " How !" exclaimed the novice, " say ye not that death 
 may come at any hour ? may it not come this hour ? and what 
 if it should come before I have performed these conditions ? O ! 
 withhold not the excellent knowledge from me a single mo- 
 ment!" The priests, suppressing a smile at this simplicity, then 
 proceeded to explain their theology to their attentive auditor. 
 
 22. But who can describe the ecstasy of his happiness, when 
 he was given to understand the required conditions were, gene- 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 97 
 
 rally, of easy and pleasant performance, and the occasional 
 difficulties, which might attend them, would entirely cease with 
 the short term of his earthly existence. "If, then, I understand 
 you rightly," said he to his instructors, " this event which you 
 call death, and which seems in itself strangely terrible, is most 
 desirable and blissful. 
 
 23. " What a favor is this which is granted to me, in being 
 sent to inhabit a planet in which I can die !" The priests again 
 exchanged smiles with each other; but their ridicule was wholly 
 lost on the enraptured stranger. When the first transports of 
 his emotion had subsided, he began to reflect with more un- 
 easiness on the time he had already lost since his arrival. 
 
 24. " Alas ! what have I been doing?" exclaimed he. " This 
 gold which I have been collecting, tell me, reverend priests, 
 will it avail me any thing when the thirty or forty years are ex- 
 pired, which you say, I may possibly sojourn in your planet ?" 
 '* Nay," replied the priests, " but verily you will find it of ex- 
 cellent use so long as you remain in it." 
 
 25. "A very little of it shall suffice me," replied he; "for 
 consider how soon this period will be past. What avails it 
 w hat my condition may be for so short a season ? I will betake 
 myself from this hour, to the grand concerns of which you 
 have so charitably informed me." 
 
 26. Accordingly, from that period, continues the legend, the 
 stranger devoted himself to the performance of those conditions 
 on which, he was told, his future welfare depended — but, in so 
 doin^, he had an opposition to encounter wholly unexpected, 
 and for which he was even at a loss to account. 
 
 27. By thus devoting his chief attention to his chief interests, 
 he excited the surprise, the contempt, and even the enmity of 
 most of the inhabitants of the city ; and they rarely mentioned 
 him but with a term of reproach, which has been variously ren- 
 dered in all the modern languages. Nothing could equal the 
 stranger's surprise at this circumstance ; as well as that of his 
 fellow-citizens appearing, generally, so extremely indifferent 
 as they did, to their own interests. 
 
 28. That they should have so little prudence and forethought 
 as to provide only for their necessities and pleasures for that 
 short part of their existence in which they were to remain on 
 this planet, he could consider as the effect of disordered intel- 
 lect : so that he even returned their incivilities to himself with 
 affectionate expostulation, accompanied by lively emotions of 
 compassion and amazement. 
 
 9 
 
98 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 29. If ever he was tempted for a moment to violate any of 
 the conditions of his future happiness, he bewailed his own 
 madness with agonizing emotions ; and to all the invitations he 
 received from others to do any thing inconsistent ^vith his real 
 interests, he had but one answer — " Oh," he would say, " I 
 am to die — I am to die." 
 
 LESSON LII. 
 
 Earthquake in Calabria. — Goldsmith. 
 
 1. In 1638, the celebrated father Kircher, and four others, 
 were on a journey to visit Mount ^Etna, and the wonders in 
 Calabria, the southern extremities of Italy. Having hired a 
 boat, they left Messina in Sicily, for Euphemia a city in Ca- 
 labria. Having crossed the strait, they landed at the pro- 
 montory of Pelores, where they were detained, for some time, 
 by bad weather. 
 
 2. At length, wearied by delay, they resolved to prosecute 
 their voyage. But scarcely had they quitted the shore, when 
 all nature seemed to be in motion, and although the air was 
 calm and serene, the sea became violently agitated, covered 
 ■with bubbles — the gulf of Charybdis* seemed whirled round in 
 an unusual manner, — Mount jl^tna sent forth vas-t volumes of 
 smoke — and Strombolif belched forth flames, with a noise like 
 peals of thunder. 
 
 3. Alarmed for their safety, they rowed with all possible 
 haste for the shore; — but no sooner had they landed, than their 
 ears were stunned with a horrid sound, resembling that of an 
 infinite number of carriages driven fiercely forward, — wheels 
 rattling, and thongs^: crackling. This was followed by a most 
 dreadful earthquake, which shook the place so violently, that 
 they were thrown prostrate on the ground. This paroxysm 
 having ceased, they started for Euphemia, which lay within 
 sight, — but looking towards the city, they perceived a frightful 
 dark cloud resting upon the place. Having waited until the 
 cloud had passed away, — wonderful to tell, — no city was there; 
 — it had totally sunk ; — and in its place a dismal and putrid 
 lake was seen. All was a melancholy solitude, — a scene of 
 hideous desolation. 
 
 * Charybdis, a dangerous whirlpool on the coast of Sicily, 
 •f Stromboli, an island in the Tuscan sea, belonging to Sicily. On it is a 
 volcano. 
 
 X Thong, a strap of leather, used as a whip. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 99 
 
 4. Proceeding pensively along, in search of some human 
 being for information, they perceived a boy sitting by the shore, 
 who appeared stupified with terror. They asked him concern- 
 ing the fate of the city ; — but he gave them no answer. They 
 intreated, — begged him to tell them ; — he only gazed on the 
 dismal lake ; — they offered him food, — but he heeded it not ; — 
 they tried to rouse him from his insensibility, — but pointing to 
 the place of the city, with a shriek he fled, and was seen no more. 
 
 The Wild Boy. — Charles W. Thompson. 
 
 1. He sat upon the wave washed shore, 
 With madness in his eye ; 
 
 The surges' dash — the breakers' roar — 
 
 Passed unregarded by — 
 He noticed not the billows' roll, 
 
 He heeded not their strife — 
 For terror had usurped his soul, 
 
 And stopped the streams of life. 
 
 2. They spoke him kindly — but he gazed, 
 And offered no reply — 
 
 They gave him food — he look'd amazed. 
 
 And threw the morsel by. 
 He was as one o'er whom a spell 
 
 Of darkness hath been cast ; 
 His spirit seemed alone to dwell 
 
 With dangers that were past. 
 
 3. The city of his home and heart, 
 So grand — so gaily bright, 
 
 Now touch'd by Fate's unerring dart. 
 
 Had vanish'd from his sight. 
 The earthquake's paralizing shake 
 
 Had rent it from its hold — 
 And nothing but a putrid lake 
 
 Its tale of terror told. 
 
 4. His kindred there, a numerous band. 
 Had watch'd his youthful bloom, 
 
 In the broad ruin of the land 
 
 All — all had met their doom ! 
 But the last night, a mother's voice 
 
 Breath'd over him in prayer — 
 She perished — he was left no choice 
 
 But mute and blank despair. 
 
100 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. He sat alone, of all the crowd 
 
 That lately throng'd around, — 
 The ocean winds were piping loud, 
 
 He did not heed their sound, 
 They ask'd him of that city's fate, 
 
 But reason's reign was o'er — 
 He pointed to her ruin'd state. 
 
 Then fled — and spoke no more. 
 
 LESSON LIIL 
 
 The Starling. — SxERNEr 
 
 \. Beshrew the sombre* pencil ! said I vauntingly — for I 
 envy not its powers, which paints the evils of life with so hard 
 and deadly a coloring. TJie mind sits terrified at the objects 
 she has magnified herself and blackened : reduce them to their 
 proper size and hue, she overlooks them. 
 
 2. 'Tis true, said I» correcting the proposition — the Bastilef 
 is not an evil to be despised — but strip it of its towers — fill up 
 the fosse| — unbarricade the doors — call it simply a confinement, 
 and suppose 'tis some tyrant of a distemper — and not of a man 
 — which holds you in it — the evil vanishes, and you bear the 
 other half without complaint. 
 
 3. I was interrupted in the hey-day of this soliloquy, |[ ^^dth a 
 voice which I took to be of a child which complained, " it 
 could not get out." — I looked up and down the passage, and 
 seeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went out without fur- 
 ther attention. 
 
 4. In my return back through the passage, I heard the same 
 words repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw it was a 
 Starling hung in a little cage — " I can't get out — I can't get 
 out," said the Starling. 
 
 5. I stood looking at the bird ; and to every person who 
 came through the passage, it ran fluttering to the side towards 
 which they approached it, with the same lamentations of its 
 captivity — " I can't get out," said the Starling. 
 
 6. God help thee ! said I, but I will let thee out, cost what 
 it will ; so I turned about the cage to get at the door ; it was 
 
 * Pronounced som'-ber, gloomy, dull. sad. 
 * t Pronounced Bas-teel, an old castle in Paris, built between 1369 and 
 1383, and used as a state prison. It was demolished in 1789. 
 , t Pronounced foss, a ditch. 
 
 (I So-Ul'-o-quy, a speech made by one alone to himself. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOK. 101 
 
 twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no get- 
 ting it open without pulhng the cage to pieces — I took both 
 hands to it. 
 
 7. The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his 
 deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed 
 his breast against it as if impatient — I fear, poor creature ! 
 said I, I cannot set thee at liberty — " No," said the Starling. — 
 " I can't get out, I can't get out," said the Starling. 
 
 8. I never had my affections more tenderly awakened ; nor 
 do I remember an incident in my life, where the dissipated 
 spirits, to which my reason had been a bubble, were so sudden- 
 ly called home. 
 
 9. Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune to 
 nature were they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew 
 all my systematic reasonings upon the Bastile ; and I heavily 
 walked up stairs, unsaying every word I had said in going down 
 them. 
 
 10. Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, slavery ! — still thou 
 art a bitter draught ! and though thousands in all ages have 
 been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that 
 account. 
 
 11. 'Tis thou, liberty — thrice sweet and gracious goddess — 
 whom all in public or in private worship, whose taste is grate- 
 ful, and ever will be so, till nature herself shall change — no tint 
 of words can spot thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn thy 
 sceptre into iron — with thee to smile upon him as he eats his 
 crust, the swain is happier than his monarch, from whose court 
 thou art exiled. 
 
 12. Gracious Heaven ! Grant me but health, thou great 
 Bestower of it, and give me but this fair goddess as my com- 
 panion — and shower down thy mitres,* if it seems good unto 
 thy divine Providence, upon those heads which are aching for 
 them. 
 
 13. The bird in his cage pursited me into my room ; I sat 
 down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, 
 I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement ; I was 
 in a right frame for it, and so I gave fi]Jl scope to my imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 14. I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow crea- 
 tures born to no inheritance but slavery ; but finding, however 
 affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near me, and 
 
 * Mitre, a kind of crown, or omaiQent, worn on the head by bishops oa 
 eolema occaaions. 
 
 9* 
 
102 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 that the multitude of sad groups in it did but distract me — I 
 took a single captive, and having first shut him up in his dun- 
 geon, I then looked through the twilight of his grated door to 
 take his picture. 
 
 15. I beheld his body half wasted away with long expecta- 
 tion and confinement, and felt what kind of sickness of the 
 heart it is which arises from hope deferred. Upon looking 
 nearer, I saw him pale and feverish : in thirty years the western 
 breeze had not once fanned his blood — he had seen no sun, no 
 moon, in all that time — nor had the voice of friend or kinsman 
 
 breathed through his lattice — his children but here my heart 
 
 began to bleed — and I was forced to go on with another part of 
 the portrait. 
 
 16. He was sitting upon the ground upon a little straw, in 
 the furthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his 
 chair and bed ; a little calender of small sticks was laid at the 
 head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had 
 passed there — he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and 
 with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add 
 to the heap. 
 
 17. As 1 darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hope- 
 less eye towards the door, then cast it down — shook his head, 
 and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains 
 upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon 
 the bundle — He gave a deep sigh — I saw the iron enter into 
 his soul — I burst into tears — I could not sustain the picture of 
 confinement which my fancy had drawn. 
 
 LESSON LIV. 
 
 Alcander and Septimius. — Goldsmith. 
 
 1. Alcander and Septimius were two Athenian students, 
 whose tastes for the arts and sciences became the foundation 
 of their future friendship, and they were scarcely ever seen 
 apart. Although Alcander's breast was animated by that ten- 
 der sentiment, a still more lively one found entrance, and the 
 fair Hypatia became the object of his love : He declared his 
 passion, and was accepted. 
 
 2. Septimius happened to have left the city, wlien his friend 
 first saw the blooming fair one, and did not return mitil the day 
 fixed upon for his marriage. The moment that introduced him 
 to the view of such perfection, was fatal to his peace ; and the 
 struggle between love and friendship became too violent for his 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 103 
 
 resolution. A sudden and dangerous fever attacked him ; and 
 the unsuspicious Alcander introduced the object of his affection 
 to assist him in his unwearied care of his friend. 
 
 3. The moment the physicians beheld Hypatia enter, they 
 were no longer at a loss to account for their patient's illness ; 
 and calling Alcander aside, they informed him of the nature of 
 it, and also expressed their fears that Septimius' recovery was 
 impossible ! Tortured between the dread of losing the friend of 
 his heart, and agonized at the idea of relinquishing the object 
 of his affection, his anguish for some time deprived him of ut- 
 terance ; but recovering that fortitude which had ever marked 
 his conduct, he flew to the bed-side of his apparently dying 
 friend, and promised to renounce his claim to Hypatia, if she 
 consented to a union with Septimius. 
 
 4. Whether Hypatia had not been strongly attached to the 
 amiable Alcander, or whether compassion urged her to accept 
 the hand of his friend, is uncertain ; but they were united, quit- 
 ted Athens, and went directly to Septimius' house at Rome. 
 Hypatia's friends, imagining Alcander had relinquished his 
 betrothed bride for the sake of a rich reward, commenced an 
 action against him for a breach of promise ; and the judges, 
 biassed by the representations of his enemies, ordered that he 
 should pay a heavier fine than his whole property amount- 
 ed to. 
 
 5. The wretched Alcander was now reduced to the most 
 melancholy situation; his friend absent, the object of his love 
 lost, and his own character stigmatized with baseness ! Being 
 absolutely unable to pay the demand, his person became the 
 property of his oppressors, and he was carried into the market 
 place and sold as a common slave. A Thracian merchant 
 became his purchaser, and for several years he endured a life 
 of torment. At length Uberty presented itself to his view, and 
 the opportunity of flight was not to be rejected. Alcander 
 ardently embraced it, and arrived at Rome in the dusk of the 
 evening. 
 
 6. Friendless, hopeless, and forlorn, the generous Alcander 
 had no place of shelter, and necessity compelled him to seek a 
 lodging in a gloomy cavern. Two robbers, who had long been 
 suspected to frequent that spot, arrived there soon after mid- 
 night, and disputing about their booty, fortunately did not per- 
 ceive his presence. One of them at length was so exasperat- 
 ed against his companion, that drawing a dagger from his side, 
 he plunged it into his heart, and left him, weltering in his blood 
 at the mouth of the cave. 
 
1(H NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. Alcander's miseries had been so accumulated, and his dis- 
 tresses so undeserved, that his mind at last was worn down by 
 his afflictions, and he became indifferent to every thing around 
 him. In this situation he was discovered, and dragged to a 
 court of justice, as the murderer of the man Avhose body had 
 been found in the cave. Weary of existence, he did not deny 
 the charge ; and sentence was going to be pronounced against 
 him, when the murderer, smitten with a pang of conscience, 
 entered the court, and avowed the fact ! 
 
 8. Astonishment seized every mind, but particularly that of 
 the judge who was going to comdemn him, who, examining the 
 countenance of a man capable of such singular conduct, discov- 
 ered the features of his beloved friend, Alcander ! Rising from 
 the throne of justice, and flying to the bar of guilt, he caught 
 his suffering Alcander in his arms, and, after shedding over 
 him tears of joy and compassion, presented him to the Senators 
 as a man whose disinterested conduct had been the means of 
 preserving his own existence. 
 
 LESSON LV. 
 
 Ingratitude — Story of Inkle and Yarico. 
 
 1. Amidst the various vices to which human nature is pronc< 
 none more strikingly evince its debasement than ingratitude 
 For other vices, and other failings, reason may be able to assign 
 a cause ; but for that she must search in vain. That kindness 
 should ever be returned with cruelty, or affection be treated 
 with neglect, is humanity'^ s shame, and man''s disgrace. 
 
 2. Mr. Thomas Inkle, a young merchant of London, was the 
 third son of a wealthy citizen, who had carefully instilled into 
 his mind a desire of acquiring wealth ; and this propensity, 
 which he had imbibed from precept, and felt from nature, was 
 the grand inducement for him to try his fortune in the West 
 Indies. Inkle's person was absolutely the reverse of his mind : 
 the former was manly and noble ; but the latter mean and 
 contracted. 
 
 3. During the voyage, the Achilles, the vessel in which he 
 embarked, put into a creek to avoid the fury of a storm ; and 
 young Inkle, with several of the party, went on shore, to take 
 a view of a scene so entirely new. They had not walked far 
 up the country before they were observed by a party of Indians, 
 and fear and apprehension lent winga to their flight. Inkle 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 105 
 
 outran his companions, and breathless with terror, sought secu- 
 rity in the thicket of a forest. 
 
 4. He had not been there long-, when he was surprised by 
 the appearance of a young female, whose benignant counte- 
 nance seemed instantly to compassionate his forlorn situation. 
 Tlie name of the female w^as Yarico. Gentleness and sweet- 
 ness were displayed in every feature ; and when Inkle, by signs, 
 acquainted her w4th his condition, she evidently proved that 
 sympathy was confined to no particular clime, and that human- 
 ity depends not upon the color of the skin. 
 
 5. The generous Indian was a woman of high birth ; and 
 knowing that the tenderness she felt for the unfortunate stran- 
 ger would be displeasing to her parents, she knew the necessi- 
 ty of disguising it. She conducted Inkle to a remote cave, sup>- 
 plied his wants, and daily administered to his comforts. Her 
 affection in time became so strong, that she scarcely could ex- 
 ist but in his presence. 
 
 6. Fearful that he w^ould grow weary of his confinement, she 
 used to w^atch the opportunities of her parents' absence, and 
 then conduct him into the beauteous groves, with which that 
 country abounds ; then persuade him to lie down and slumber, 
 and anxiously watch by him for fear he should be disturbed ! 
 His little dwelling w^as adorned with all the elegance that na- 
 tive art could suggest, and unsuspecting innocence employ, to 
 make it appear pleasing to her lover's eyes. 
 
 7. At length Yarico had the happiness of finding Inkle un- 
 derstand her language, and of hearing him express the strength 
 of his gratitude, and power of his love. Inkle was constantly 
 representing the joys that would await them, if they could once 
 return to England, and painted his passion in such glowing 
 colors, that the unsuspecting Yarico could not doubt its sinceri- 
 ty, and at length promised not only to become the partner of 
 his flight, but daily watch the arrival of some vessel to promote it. 
 
 8. The wished for object soon appeared ; the unsuspicious 
 Yarico left the abode of her doating parents, and, forgetful of 
 duly, thought only of her afifection. The ship in which they 
 had' embarked was bound for Barbadoes,* and all Inkle's ideas 
 of acquiring wealth returned with double force. Love, which 
 had been a transitory passion, and which had its foundation in 
 interest, now yielded to a superior claim. His freedom once 
 obtained the means w^ere totally forgotten, and the unfortu- 
 nate Yarico was considered as a tax upon his bounty. 
 
 ♦ Barbadoes, the moet eastern of the West India Islands. 
 
106 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 9. As soon as the vessel arrived at Barbadoes, the merchants 
 crowded around it for the purpose of purchasing slaves. The 
 despicable Inkle was animated at the sight, and resolving to 
 relieve himself of what he considered a burden, oftered the 
 beauteous Yarico, his amiable deliverer, to the highest bidder ! 
 It was in vain that she threw herself on her knees before him, 
 or pleaded her tenderness and affection ; the heart that could 
 be dead to gratitude was lost to love ; and the unfortunate 
 Yarico was doomed to a life of slavery!! 
 
 LESSON LVL 
 
 The Battle of Blenheim* — Southey. 
 
 1. It was a summer evening ; 
 
 Old Kaspar's work was done ; 
 And he, before his cottage door, 
 
 Was sitting in the sun ; 
 And by him sported on the green, 
 His little grandchild, Wilhemine. 
 
 2. She saw her brother Peterkin 
 
 Roll something large and round, 
 That he besides the rivulet. 
 
 In playing there had found ; 
 He came to ask what he had found. 
 That was so large, and smooth, and round. 
 
 3. Old Kaspar took it from the boy, 
 
 Who stood expectant by ; 
 And then the old man shook his head. 
 
 And with a natural sigh, 
 'Tis some poor fellow's skull, said he. 
 Who fell in the great victory. 
 
 4. 1 find them in the garden, for 
 
 There's many here about. 
 And often when I go to plough, 
 
 The ploughshare turns them out ; 
 For many thousand men, said he. 
 Were slain in this great victory. 
 
 * Blenheim, a town in the north-western part of Austria, on the river Dan- 
 ube. It is famous for the great victory obtained in its vicinity, on the 13th 
 of August, 1704, by the EngUsh and Austrians, under the duke of Marlbo- 
 rough and prince Eugene, over the French and Bavarians, commanded by 
 marshals Tallard, Marsin, and the elector of Bavaria. Tlie loss of the 
 French and Bavarians exceeded 30,000 ; that of the allies was 12,000. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 107 
 
 5. Now tell us what 'twas all about, 
 
 Young Peterkin he cries ; 
 And little Wilhemine looks up, 
 
 With wonder waiting eyes ; 
 Now tell us all about the war, 
 And what they killed each other for. 
 
 6. It was the English, Kaspar cried, 
 
 That put the French to rout ; 
 But what they kill'd each other for, 
 
 I could not well make out; 
 But every body said, quoth he, 
 That 'twas a famous victory ; 
 
 7. My father liv'd at Blenheim then. 
 
 Yon little stream hard by ; 
 They burnt his dwelling to the ground. 
 
 And he was forc'd to fly : 
 So with his wife and child he fled, 
 Nor had he where to rest his head. 
 
 8. With fire and sword the country round 
 
 Was wasted far and wide, 
 And many a chiding mother then, 
 
 And new-born infant died; 
 But things like this, you know, must be 
 At every famous victory. 
 
 9. Great praise the noble General won. 
 
 And our good friend Eugene ;* — 
 Why, 'twas a very wicked thing. 
 
 Said little Wilhemine ; 
 Nay, nay, my little girl, quoth he. 
 It was a famous victory. 
 
 10. And every body praised the Dukef 
 
 Who such a fight did win ; 
 But what good came of it at last ? 
 
 Said little Peterkin ; 
 Why — that — I cannot tell, said he. 
 But 'twas a famous victory. 
 
 ♦ Francis Eugene, Prince of Savoy, born in 1663. Finding himself 
 slighted by Louis XIV. in France, his native country, he retired to Germa- 
 ny, and spent his life in the service of the Austrians. His victories over 
 the Turks, and afterwards over the French, have rendered his name im- 
 mortal. He died at Vienna, 1736. 
 
 ♦ Duke of Marlborough, an Englishman. 
 
108 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON LVIL 
 
 The Dog and the Fox. — Gay. 
 
 1. A Shepherd's dog, unskilled in sports, 
 Picked up acquaintance of all sorts. 
 Amongst the rest a fox he knew ; 
 
 By frequent chat their friendship grew. 
 
 2. Says Renard, " 'Tis a cruel case, 
 That man should stigmatize our race. 
 No doubt, among us, rogues you find, 
 As among dogs and human kind ; 
 And yet, (unknown to me and you,) 
 There may be honest men and true. 
 
 3. " Thus slander tries, whate'er it can, 
 To put us on the foot with man. 
 
 Let my own actions recommend ; 
 No prejudice can blind a friend ; 
 You know me free from all disguise ; 
 My honor as my life I prize." 
 
 4. By talk like this, from all mistrust 
 The dog was cured, and thought him just 
 As on a time the fox held forth 
 
 On conscience, honesty, and worth, 
 Sudden he stopped ; he cocked his ear, 
 Low dropped his brushy tail with fear. 
 " Bless us ! the hunters are abroad : 
 What's all that clatter on the road ?" 
 
 5. " Hold," says the dog ; " we're safe from harm ; 
 'Twas nothing but a false alarm. 
 
 At yonder town, 'tis market day ; 
 Some farmer's wife is on the way : 
 'Tis so, (I know her pie-bald mare,) 
 Dame Dobbins, with her poultry-ware.^^ 
 
 6. Renard grew huflf'. Says he, " This sneer, 
 From you, I little thought to hear. 
 
 Your meaning in your looks I see ; 
 Pray, what's dame Dobbins, friend, to me ? 
 Did I e'er make her poultry thinner ? 
 Prove that I owe the dame a dinner." 
 
 7. " Friend," quoth the cur, " I meant no harm, 
 Then why so captious ? why so warm ? 
 
 My words, in common acceptation. 
 Could never give this provocation ; 
 No lamb (for aught I ever knew) 
 May be more innocent than you." 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 109 
 
 8. At this, galled Renard winced, and swore 
 Such language ne'er was given before. 
 
 " What's lamh to me ? — the saucy hint ; 
 Show me, base knave, which way you spuint. 
 If t'other night, your master lost 
 Three lambs — am I to pay the cost ? 
 Your Tile reflections would imply 
 That I'm the thief. You dog, you lie." 
 
 9. " Thou knave, thou fool," the dog replied, 
 " Thy name is just, take either side ; 
 
 Thy guilt these applications speak ; 
 Sirrah, 'tis conscience makes you squeak." 
 So saying, on the fox he flies ; — 
 The self-con^dcted felon dies. 
 
 LESSON LVIII. 
 
 Tke Hare and the Tortoise. — Lloyd. 
 
 1. In days of yore,* when time was young, 
 When birds conversed as well as simg, 
 When use of speech was not confined 
 Merely to brutes of human kind, 
 
 A forward hare of swiftness vain, 
 The genius of the neighboring plain, 
 Would oft deride the drudging crowd, 
 For geniuses are ever proud : 
 He'd boast, his flight 'twere vain to follow ; 
 For dog, and horse, he'd beat them hollow ; 
 Nay, if he put forth all his strength, 
 Outstrip his brethren half a length. 
 
 2. A tortoise heard his vain oration, 
 And vented thus his indignation : — 
 
 " O puss ! it bodes thee dire disgrace, 
 
 When I defy thee to the race. 
 
 Come, 'tis a match ; nay, no denial : 
 
 I lay my shell upon the trial." 
 
 'Twas "Done !" and " Done !" "All fair !" " A bet !" 
 
 Judges prepared, and distance set. 
 
 3. The scampering hare outstripped the wind ; 
 The creeping tortoise lagged behind, 
 
 ♦ Yorcj long ago, of old time. 
 10 
 
110 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 And scarce had passed a single pole, 
 When puss had almost reached the goal. 
 " Friend tortoise," quoth the jeering hare, 
 " Your burden's more than you can bear ; 
 To help your speed it were as well 
 That I should ease you of your shell : 
 Jog on a little faster, pr'ythee ; 
 I'll take a nap, and then be v\dth thee." 
 
 4. So said, so done, and safely, sure ; 
 For say, what conquest more secure ? 
 When'er he waked, (that's all that's in it,) 
 He could o'ertake him in a minute. 
 
 The tortoise heard his taunting jeer, 
 
 But still resolved to persevere ; 
 
 Still drawled along, as who should say, 
 
 " I'll win, like Fabius,* by delay ;" 
 
 On to the goal securely crept. 
 
 While puss, unknowino^, soundly slept. 
 
 5. The bets were won, the hare awoke, 
 When thus the ■vdctor-tortoise spoke : — 
 
 *' Puss, though I own thy quicker parts. 
 Things are not always done by starts ; 
 You may deride my awkward pace. 
 But slow and steady wins the raceP 
 
 LESSON LIX. 
 
 The Painter who pleased Nobody and Every Body. — Gay. 
 
 1. Lest men suspect your tale untrue, 
 Keep probability in view. 
 
 The trav'ller, leaping o'er those bounds. 
 The credit of his book confounds. 
 Who with his tongue hath armies routed, 
 Makes e'en his real courage doubted. 
 
 2. But flatt'ry never seems absurd ; 
 The flatter'd always take your word ; 
 Impossibilities seem just ; 
 
 They take the strongest praise on trust ; 
 Hyperboles, though e'er so great. 
 Will still come short of self conceit. 
 
 * An illustrious Roman General who opposed Hannibal in Italy. He 
 died 203 years B. C. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. Ill 
 
 3. So very like a painter drew, 
 That ev'ry eye the picture knew ; 
 He hit complexion, feature, air, 
 So just that life itself was there ; 
 No flatt'ry with his colors laid, 
 To bloom restor'd the faded maid ; 
 He gave each muscle all its strength ; 
 The mouth, the chin, the nose's length, 
 His honest pencil touch'd with truth. 
 And mark'd the date of age and youth. 
 
 4. He lost his friends ; his practice fail'd. 
 Truth should not always be reveal' d ; 
 
 In dusty piles his pictures lay. 
 For no one sent the second pay. 
 
 5. Two busto's, fraught with ev'ry grace, 
 A Venus'* and Apollo'sf face. 
 
 He plac'd in view — resolv'd to please. 
 Whoever sat, he drew from these ; 
 From these corrected every feature, 
 And spirited each awkward creature. 
 
 6. All things were set ; the hour v/as come, 
 His palette:j: ready o'er his thumb : 
 
 My Lord appear' d, and seated right, 
 
 In proper attitude and light, 
 
 The painter look'd, he sketch'd the piece ; 
 
 Then dipt his pencil, talk'd of Greece, 
 
 Of Titian'sll tints, of Guido's|| air, 
 
 " Those eyes, my Lord, the spirit there. 
 
 Might well a Raphael's || hand require, 
 
 To give them all the native fire ; 
 
 The features, fraught with sense and wit, 
 
 You'll grant, are very hard to hit : 
 
 But yet, with patience, you shall view 
 
 As much as paint or art can do : 
 
 7. Observe the work." — My Lord reply'd, 
 " Till now, I thought my mouth was wide : 
 Besides, my nose is somewhat long ; 
 
 Dear sir, for me 'tis far too young." 
 
 * Venus, one of the most celebrated of the heathen deities. She was the 
 goddess of beauty. Copies of her statue are used as models by painters. 
 
 t Apollo, another of the ancient heathen deities. The Apollo-Belvidere 
 is an ancient statue of the first class in excellence. 
 
 t Palette, a little oval table, or board, on which the painter places his 
 colors to be used, and mixes them to obtain the requisite tints. 
 
 U An Italian painter. 
 
112 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 " O pardon me," the artist cry'd, 
 
 " In this, we painters must decide. 
 
 The piece e'en common eyes must strike ; 
 
 I'll warrant it extremely like." 
 
 My Lord examin'd it anew, 
 
 No looking-glass seem'd half so true. 
 
 8. A lady came. With borrow'd grace, 
 He from his Venus form'd her face, 
 
 Her lover prais'd the painter's art, 
 So like the picture in his heart ! 
 To ev'ry age some charm he lent ; 
 E'en beauties were almost content. 
 
 9. Through all the town his art they prais'd, 
 His custom grew, his price was rais'd. 
 
 Had he the real likeness shown, 
 Would any man the picture own ? 
 But when thus happily he wrought, 
 Each found the likeness in his thought. 
 
 LESSON LX. 
 
 Story of the Siege of Calais. 
 
 1. Edward the III. after the battle of Cressy,* laid siege to 
 Calais.! He had fortified his camp in so impregnable a man- 
 ner, that all the efforts of France proved ineffectual to raise the 
 siege, or throw succors into the city. The citizens under count 
 Vienne, their gallant governor, made an admirable defence. 
 
 2. France had now put the sickle into her second harvest, 
 since Edward, with his victorious army, sat down before the 
 town. The eyes of all Europe were intent on the issue. At 
 length, famine did more for Edward than arms. 
 
 3. After suffering unheard of calamities, they resolved to 
 attempt the enemy's camp. They boldly sallied forth ; the 
 English joined battle ; and after a long and desperate engage- 
 ment, count Vienne was taken prisoner, and the citizens, who 
 survived the slaughter, retired within their gates. 
 
 4. The command devolving upon Eustace St. Pierre, a man 
 of mean birth, but of exalted virtue, he offered to capitulate with 
 
 * Cressy, a town of France, situated on the river Mayo, 100 miles north 
 of Paris. It is celebrated for the great victory gained on the 26th of August, 
 A. D. 1346, by Edward III. of England, over Philip VI. of France. 
 
 t Cal-ais, a town of France, situated on the Straits of Dover, taken by 
 Edward III. in 1347. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 113 
 
 Edward, provided he permitted him to depart with hfe and 
 liberty. Edward, to avoid the imputation of cruehy, consented 
 to spare the bulk of the Plebeians,* provided they delivered up 
 to him six of their principal citizens, with halters about their 
 necks, as victims of due atonement for that spirit of rebellion 
 with which they had inflamed the vulgar. 
 
 5. When the messenger. Sir Walter Mauny, delivered the 
 terms, consternation and pale dismay were impressed on every 
 countenance. To a long and dead silence, deep sighs and 
 groans succeeded, till Eustace St. Pierre, getting up to a little 
 eminence, thus addressed the assembly : 
 
 6. " My friends, we are brought to great straits this day ; we 
 must either yield to the terms of our cruel and ensnaring con- 
 queror, or give up our tender infants, our wives and daughters, 
 to the bloody and brutal lusts of the violating soldiers. 
 
 7. " Is there any expedient left whereby we may avoid the 
 guilt and infamy of delivering up those who have suffered every 
 misery with you, on the one hand ; or the desolation and horror 
 of a sacked city, on the other? There is, my friends ; there is 
 one expedient left ; a gracious, an excellent, a godlike expedient ! 
 Is there any here to whom virtue is dearer than life ? Let him 
 offer himself an oblation for the safety of his people ! He shall 
 not fail of a blessed approbation from that power, who offered 
 up his only Son for the salvation of mankind." 
 
 8. He spoke — but an universal silence ensued. Each man 
 looked around for the example of that virtue and magnanimity, 
 which all wished to approve in themselves, though they wanted 
 the resolution. At length St. Pierre resumed, "I doubt not but 
 there are many as ready, nay, more zealous of this martyrdom, 
 than I can be; though the station to which lam raided, by the 
 captivity of Lord Vienne, iriSparts a right to be the first in giving 
 my life for your sakes. I give it freely ; I give it cheerfully. 
 
 9. " Who comes next ;" " Your son," exclaimed a youth, 
 not yet come to maturity. " Ah, my child !" cried St. Pierre, 
 " I am then twice sacrificed. But, no ; I have rather begotten 
 thee a second time. Thy years are few, but full, my son. 
 The victim of virtue has reached the utmost purpose and goal of 
 mortality. Who next, my friends? This is the hour of heroes !" 
 " Your kinsman," cried John de Aire. "Your kinsman," cried 
 James Wissant. " Your kinsman," cried Peter Wissant. 
 
 10. "Ah!" exclaimed Sir Walter Mauny, bursting into tears, 
 ** Why was I not a citizen of Calais ?" The sixth victim was 
 
 * Plebeian, one of the common people, or lower ranks of men. 
 10* 
 
114 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 still wanting, but was quickly supplied by lot, from numbers 
 who were now emulous of so ennobling an example. The keys 
 of the city were then delivered to Sir Walter. He took the six 
 prisoners into his custody; then ordered the gates to be opened, 
 and gave charge to his attendants to conduct the remaining citi- 
 zens with their families, through the camp of the English. 
 
 11. Before they departed, however, they desired permission 
 to take their adieu of their deliverers. What a parting ! What 
 a scene ! They crowded, with their wives, and children, about 
 St. Pierre and his fellow prisoners. They embraced ; they 
 clung around ; they fell prostrate before them. 
 
 12. They groaned ; they wept aloud ; and the joint clamor 
 of their mourning passed the gates of the city, and was heard 
 throughout the English camp. The English by this time were 
 apprised of what passed within Calais. 
 
 13. They heard the voice of lamentation, and they were 
 touched with compassion. Each of the soldiers prepared a 
 portion of his own victuals to welcome and entertain the half- 
 famished inKabitants ; and they loaded them with as much as 
 their present weakness was able to bear, in order to supply 
 them with sustenance by the way. 
 
 14. At length St. Pierre and his fellow victims appeared, 
 under the conduct of Sir Walter and a guard. All the tents of 
 the English M'ere instantly emptied. The soldiers poured from 
 all parts, and arranged themselves on each side, to behold, 
 to contemplate, to admire, this little band of patriots, as they 
 passed. 
 
 15. They bowed down to them on all sides. They murmur- 
 ed their applause of that virtue, Avhich they could not but revere, 
 even in enemies ; and they regarded those ropes M'liich they 
 voluntarily assumed about their ifecks, as ensigns of greater 
 dignity than that of the British garter.* 
 
 16. As soon as they had reached the presence, " Mauny," 
 says the Monarch, " are these the principal inhabitants of 
 Calais ?" " They are," says Mauny ; " they are not only the 
 principal men of Calais, but they are the principal men of 
 France, my lord, if virtue has any share in the act of ennobling." 
 "Were they delivered peaceably?" says Edward. " Was there 
 no resistance, no commotion among the people ?" " Not in the 
 least, my lord ! the people would all have perished, rather 
 than have delivered the least of these to your Majesty. They 
 
 * Garter, the badge of an order of knighthood in Great Britain, instituted 
 by Edward HI. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 115 
 
 are self-delivered, self-devoted, and come to offer up their 
 inestimable heads, as an ample equivalent for the ransom of 
 thousands." 
 
 17. Edward was secretly piqued* at this reply of Sir Walter; 
 but he knew the privilege of a British subject, and suppressed 
 nis resentment. " Experience," says he, "has ever shown, that 
 lenity only serves to invite people to new crimes. Severity, at 
 times, is indispensably necessary, to compel subjects to submis- 
 sion, by punishment and example." " Go," he cried to an 
 officer, " lead these men to execution." 
 
 18. At this instant a sound of triumph was heard throughout 
 the camp. The queen had just arrived with a powerful rein- 
 forcement of gallant troops. Sir Walter Mauny flew to receive 
 her Majesty, and briefly informed her of the particulars respect- 
 ing the six victims. 
 
 19. As soon as she had been welcomed by Edward and his 
 court, she desired a private audience. " My lord," said she, 
 " the question I am to enter upon, is not touching the lives of a 
 few mechanics — it respects the honor of the English nation; it 
 respects the glory of my Edward, my husband, and my king. 
 
 20. " You think you have sentenced six of your enemies to 
 death. No, my lord, they have sentenced themselves ; and 
 their execution would be the execution of their own orders, not 
 the orders of Edward. The stage on which they would suffer, 
 would be to them a stage of honor, but a stage of shame to 
 Edward ; a reproach on his conquests ; an indelible disgrace 
 to his name. 
 
 21. "Let us rather disappoint these haughty burghers, who 
 wish to invest themselves with glory at our expense. We 
 cannot wholly deprive them of the merit of a sacrifice so nobly 
 intended, but we may cut them short of their desires ; in place 
 of that death by which their glory would be consummate, let 
 us bury them under gifts ; let us put them to confusion with 
 applauses. 
 
 22. " We shall thereby defeat them of that popular opinion, 
 which never fails to attend those who suffer in the cause of 
 virtue." " I am convinced ; you have prevailed. Be it so," 
 replied Edward ; " prevent the execution ; have them instantly 
 before us." 
 
 23. They came ; when the Queen, with an aspect and accent 
 diffusing sweetness, thus bespoke them: "Natives of France, 
 and inhabitants of Calais, you have put us to a vast expense of 
 
 ♦ Pronounced peek'd, offended. 
 
116 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 blood and treasure in the recovery of our just natural inherit- 
 ance ; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous judg- 
 ment ; and we admire and honor in you that valor and virtue, 
 by which we are so long kept out of our rightful possessions. 
 
 24. "You, noble burghers ! You, excellent citizens ! Though 
 you were ten-fold the enemies of our person and our throne, 
 we can feel nothing on our part, save respect and affection for 
 you. You have been sufficiently tested. 
 
 25. " We loose your chains ; we snatch you from the scaffold ! 
 and we thank you for that lesson of humiliation which you teach 
 us, when you show us, that excellence is not of blood, of title, 
 or station ; that virtue gives a dignity superior to that of kings ; 
 and that those whom the Almighty informs with sentiments 
 like yours, are justly and eminently raised above all human 
 distinctions. 
 
 26. " You are now free to depart to your friends, relatives, 
 and countrymen, to all those whose lives and liberties you have 
 so nobly redeemed, provided you refuse not the tokens of our 
 esteem. Yet we would rather bind you to ourselves by every 
 endearing obligation ; and for this purpose we offer to you your 
 choice of the gifts and honors that Edward has to bestow. 
 
 27. " Rivals for fame, but always friends to virtue ; we wish 
 that England were entitled to call you her sons." " Ah, my 
 country !" exclaimed St. Pierre ; " it is now that I tremble for 
 you. Edward only wins our cities, but Philippa conquers 
 hearts." 
 
 LESSON LXI. 
 
 Examples of Decision of Character. — John Foster. 
 
 1. I HAVE repeatedly remarked to you in conversation the 
 effect of what has been called a ruling passion. When its object 
 is noble, and an enlightened understanding directs its move- 
 ments, it appears to me a great felicity ; but whether its object 
 be noble or not, it infalhbly creates, where it exists in great 
 force, that active ardent constancy which I describe as a capital 
 feature of the decisive character. 
 
 2. The subject of such a commanding passion wonders, if 
 indeed he were at leisure to wonder, at the persons who pretend 
 to attach importance to an object which they make none but the 
 most languid efforts to secure. The utmost powers of the man 
 are constrained into the service of the favorite cause by this 
 passion, which sweeps away, as it advances, all the trivial ob- 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 117 
 
 jections and little opposing motives, and seems almost to open 
 a way through impossibilities. 
 
 3. This spirit comes on him in the morning as soon as he 
 recovers his consciousness, and commands and impels him 
 through the day with a power from which he could not eman- 
 cipate himself if he would. When the force of habit is added, 
 the determination becomes invincihle, and seems to assume 
 rank with the great laws of nature, making it nearly as certain 
 that such a man will persist in his course as that in the morn- 
 ing the sun Avill rise. 
 
 4. A persisting untameable efficacy of soul gives a seductive 
 and pernicious dignity even to a character and a course which 
 every moral principle forbids us to approve. Often in the nar- 
 rations of history and fiction, an agent of the most dreadful 
 designs compels a sentiment of deep respect for the uncon- 
 querable mind displayed in their execution. 
 
 5. While we shudder at his activity, we say with regret, 
 mingled with an admiration which borders on partiality, — What 
 a noble being this would have been if goodness had been his 
 destiny ! The partiality is evinced in the very selection of terms, 
 by which we show that we are tempted to refer his atrocity 
 rather to his destiny than to his choice. 
 
 6. In some of the high examples of ambition, we almost 
 revere the force of mind which impelled them forward through 
 the longest series of action, superior to doubt and fluctuation, 
 and disdainful of ease, of pleasure, of opposition, and of hazard. 
 
 7. We bow to the ambitious spirit which reached the true 
 sublime in the reply of Pompey* to his friends, Avho dissuaded 
 him from venturing on a tempestuous sea, in order to be at 
 Rome on an important occasion : " It is necessary for me to go 
 — it is not necessary for me to live." 
 
 8. You may recollect the mention, in one of our conversa- 
 tions, of a young man who wasted, in two or three years, a large 
 patrimony in profligate revels with a number of worthless asso- 
 ciates, who called themselves his friends, and who, when his 
 last means were exhausted, treated him, of course, with neglect 
 or contempt. 
 
 9. Reduced to absolute want, he one day went out of the 
 house with an intention to put an end to his life ; but wander- 
 ing awhile almost unconsciously, he came to the brow of an 
 eminence which overlooked what were lately his estates. 
 
 * Pompey, a distinguished Roman General, vanquished by Cesar in the 
 battle of Pharsalia. 
 
118 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 10. Here he sat down, and remained fixed in thought a num- 
 ber of hours, at the end of which he sprang from the ground 
 with a vehement exuhinor emotion. He had formed his resolu- 
 tion, which was, tnat all these estates should be his again: he 
 had formed his plan too, which he instantly began to execute. 
 
 11. He walked hastily forward, determined to seize the very 
 first opportunity, of however humble a kind, to gain any money, 
 though it were ever so despicable a trifle, and resolved absolute- 
 ly not to spend, if he c rdd help it, a farthing of whatsoever he 
 might obtain. 
 
 12. The first thing that drew his attention was a heap of coals 
 shot out of carts on the pavements before a house. He ofiiered 
 himself to shovel or wheel them into the place where they were 
 to be laid, and was employed. He received a few pence for 
 the labor, and then in pursuance of the saving part of his plan, 
 requested some small gratuity of meat and drink, which was 
 given him. 
 
 13. He then looked out for the next thing that might chance 
 to ofiier, and went, with indefatigable industry, through a suc- 
 cession of servile employments in different places, of longer 
 and shorter duration, still scrupulously avoiding, as far as pos- 
 sible, the expense of a penny. He promptly seized every 
 opportunity which could advance his design, without regard- 
 ing the meanness of occupation or appearance. 
 
 14. By this method he had gained, after a considerable time, 
 money enough to purchase, in order to sell again, ^ few cattle, 
 of which he had taken pains to understand the value. He 
 speedily but cautiously turned his first gains into second advan- 
 tages; retained, without a single deviation, his extreme parsi- 
 mony ; and thus advanced by degrees into larger transactions 
 and incipient wealth. 
 
 15. I did not hear, or have forgotten, the continued course of 
 his life; but the final result was, that he more than recovered 
 his lost possessions, and died an inveterate miser worth 60,000Z. 
 I have always recollected this as a signal instance, though in 
 an unfortunate and ignoble direction, of decisive character, and 
 of the extraordinary effect which, according to general laws, 
 belongs to the strongest form of such a character. 
 
 LESSON LXII. 
 
 Ortogrul: or, the Vanity of Riches. — Dr. Johnson. 
 1. As Ortogrul of Basra was one day wandering along the 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 119 
 
 streets of Bagdad,* musing on the varieties of merchandise 
 which the shops opened to his view ; and observing the differ- 
 ent occupations which busied the muhitude on every side, he 
 was awakened from the tranquillity of meditation, by a crowd that 
 obstructed his passage. He raised his eyes, and saw the chief 
 vizier,! who, having returned from the divan,j: was entering his 
 palace. 
 
 2. Ortogrul mingled with the attendants : and being suppos- 
 ed to have some petition for the vizier, was permitted to enter. 
 He surveyed the spaciousness of the apartments, admired the 
 walls hung with golden tapestry, and the floors covered with 
 silken carpets ; and despised the simple neatness of his own little 
 habitation. 
 
 3. " Surely," said he to himself, " this palace is the seat of 
 happiness : where pleasure succeeds to pleasure, and discontent 
 and sorrow can have no admission. — Whatever nature has pro- 
 vided for the delight of sense, is here spread forth to be enjoyed. 
 What can mortals hope or imagine, which the master of this 
 palace has not obtained 1 The dishes of luxury cover his table; 
 the voice of harmony lulls him in his bowers ; he breathes the 
 fragrance of the groves of Java, || and sleeps upon the down of 
 the cygnets of Ganges.*^ 
 
 4. " He speaks, and his mandate is obeyed ; he wishes, and 
 his wish i^ gratified ; all whom he sees, obey him, dnd all whom 
 he hears, natter him. How different, O Ortogrul, is thy con- 
 dition, who art doomed to the perpetual torments of unsatisfied 
 desire ; and who hast no amusement in thy power, that can 
 withhold thee from thy own reflections ! 
 
 5. " They tell thee that thou art wise ; but what does wisdom 
 avail with poverty ? None will flatter the poor ; and the wise 
 have very little power of flattering themselves. That man is 
 surely the most wretched of the sons of wretchedness, who lives 
 with his own faults and follies always before him ; and who has 
 none to reconcile him to himself by praise and veneration. I 
 
 * Bagdad, a city in Turkey in Asia, situated on the river Tigris. For 
 more than 500 years, it was the seat of the Caliphs and capital of the Ma- 
 hometan empire, and was one of the most splendid and populous cities in 
 the world. It has greatly decayed, and retains but little of its ancient splen- 
 dor." 
 
 t Pronounced viz'-yere, the Prime Minister of the Turkish empire. 
 
 % Divan, a Turkish council or assembly. 
 
 II Java, one of the principal East India islands. It is celebrated for the fer- 
 tility of its soil, and produces in abundance the richest fruits, and finest spices. 
 
 § Ganges, a large river in Hindoostan, esteemed sacred by the natives. — 
 The cygnet is the young of the swan, a water fowl of snowy whiteness. 
 
120 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 have long sought content, and have not found it ; I will from 
 this moment endeavor to be rich." 
 
 6. Full of his new resolution, he shut himself in his chamber 
 for six months, to deliberate how he should grow rich. He 
 sometimes purposed to offer himself as a counsellor to one of the 
 kings of India ; and sometimes resolved to dig for diamonds in 
 the mines of Golconda.* 
 
 7. One day, after some hours passed in \'iolent fluctuations 
 of opinion, sleep insensibly seized him in his chair. He dream- 
 ed that he was ranging a desert country, in search of some one 
 that might teach him to grow rich ; and as he stood on the top 
 of a hill, shaded with cypress, in doubt whither to direct his 
 steps, his father appeared on a sudden standing before him. — 
 " Ortogrul," said the old man, " I know thy perplexity ; listen 
 to thy father ; turn thine eye on the opposite mountain." 
 
 8. Ortogrul looked, and saw a torrent tumbling down the 
 rocks, roaring with the noise of thunder, and scattering its foam 
 on the impending woods. " Now," said his father, " behold 
 the valley that lies between tlie hills." Ortogrul looked, and 
 espied a little well, out of which issued a small rivulet. " Tell 
 me now," said his father, " dost thou wish for sudden affluence, 
 that may pour upon thee like the mountain torrent ; or for a 
 sloAV and gradual increase, resembling the rill gliding from the 
 well?" 
 
 9. " Let me be quickly rich," said Ortogrul ; " let the golden 
 stream be quick and violent." " Look round thee," said his 
 father, " once again," Ortogrul looked, and perceived the 
 channel of the torrent dry and dusty ; but following the rivulet 
 from the well, he traced it to a wide lake, which the supply, 
 slow and constant, kept always full. He awoke, and determin- 
 ed to grow rich by silent profit, and persevering industry. 
 
 10. Having sold his patrimony, he engaged in merchandize ; 
 and in twenty years purchased lands, on which he raised a 
 house, equal in sumptuousness to that of the vizier, to which he 
 invited all the ministers of pleasure, expecting to enjoy all the 
 felicity which he had imagined riches able to afford. Leisure 
 soon made him weary of himself, and he longed to be persuaded 
 that he was great and happy. He was courteous and liberal : 
 he gave all that approached him hopes of pleasing him, and all 
 who should please him hopes of being rewarded. Every art 
 of praise was tried, and every source of adulatory fiction was 
 exhausted. 
 
 * Golconda, a pro\inc€ of Hindoostan, now called Hyderabad. It was for 
 merly celebrated for its diamond mines. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 121 
 
 11. Ortogrul heard his flatterers without dehght, because he 
 found himself unable to believe them. His own heart told him 
 its frailties ; his own understanding reproached him with his 
 faults. " How long," said he, with a deep sigh, " have I been 
 laboring in vain to am.ass wealth, which at last is useless ! Let 
 no man hereafter wish to be rich, who is already too wise to be 
 flattered." 
 
 LESSON LXIII. 
 
 Schemes of Life often Elusory. — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 1. Omar, the son of Hassan, had passed seventy-five years 
 in honor and prosperity. The favor of three successive califs* 
 had filled his house with j^old and silver ; and whenever he ap- 
 peared, the benedictions of the people proclaimed his passage. 
 
 2. Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The bright- 
 ness of the flame is wasting its fuel ; the fragrant flower is pass- 
 ing away in its own odors. The vigor of Omar began to fail ; 
 the curls of beauty fell from his head ! strength departed from 
 his hands ; and agility from his feet. He gave back to the calif 
 tlie keys of trust, and the seals of secresy ; and sought no other 
 pleasvu'e for the remains of life, than the converse of the wise, 
 and the gratitude of the good. 
 
 3. The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His cham- 
 ber was filled with visitants, eager to catch the dictates of expe- 
 rience, and oflicious to pay the tribute of admiration. Caled, 
 the son of the viceroyf of Egypt, entered every day early, and 
 retired late. He was beautiful and eloquent. Omar admired 
 his wit, and loved his docility. 
 
 4. " Tell me," said Caled, " thou to whose voice nations 
 have listened, and whose wisdom is known to the extremities of 
 Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent. The 
 arts by which thou hast gained power and preserved it, are to 
 thee no longer necessary or useful ; impart to me the secret of 
 tliy conduct, and teach me the plan upon which thy wisdom has 
 built thy fortune." 
 
 5. " if oung man," said Omar, " it is of little use to form plans 
 of life. When I took my first survey of the world, in my twen- 
 tieth year, having considered the various conditions of mankind, 
 in the hour of solitude, I said thus to myself, leaning against a 
 cedar, which spread its branches over my head : 
 
 * A successor of Mahomet among the Saracens. 
 f A governor appointed by a king. 
 
 11 
 
122 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 6. " Seventy years are allowed to man ; . I have yet fifty 
 remaining. Ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowl- 
 edge, and ten I will pass in foreign countries ; I shall be learned, 
 and therefore shall be honored ; every city will shout at my 
 arrival, and every student will solicit my friendship. Twenty 
 years thus passed, will store my mind Avith images, which I 
 shall be busy, through the rest of my life, in combining and 
 comparing. 
 
 7. " I shall revel in inexhaustible accumulations of intellect- 
 ual riches ; I shall find new pleasures for every moment, and 
 shall never more be weary of myself. I will not, however, 
 deviate too far from the beaten track of life ; but will try what 
 can be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife beautiful 
 as the Houries,* and wise as Zobeide ;t with her I will live 
 twenty years within the suburbs of Bagdad, in every pleasure 
 that wealth can purchase, and fancy can invent. 
 
 8. " I will then retire to a rural dwelling ; pass my days in 
 obscurity and contemplation ; and lie silently down on the bed 
 of death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, 
 that I will never depend upon the smile of princes ; that I will 
 never stand exposed to the artifices of courts ; I will never pant 
 for public honors, nor disturb my quiet with the affairs of state. 
 Such was my scheme of life, which I impressed indelibly upon 
 my memory. 
 
 9. " The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in 
 search of knowledge, and I know not how I was diverted from 
 my design. I had no visible impediments without, nor any 
 ungovernable passions within. I regarded knowledge as the 
 highest honor and the most engaging pleasure ; yet day stole 
 upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that seven 
 years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind 
 them. 
 
 10. " I now postponed my purpose of travelling ; for why 
 should I go abroad, while so much remained to be learned at 
 home ? I immured myself for four years, and studied the laws 
 of the empire. The fame of my skill reached the judges ; I 
 was found able to speak upon doubtful questions ; and was 
 commanded to stand at the footstool of the calif. I was heard 
 with attention ; I was consulted with confidence ; and the love 
 of praise fastened on my heart. 
 
 11. "I still wished to see distant countries ; listened with 
 rapture to the relations of travellers ; and resolved some time 
 
 ♦ Houries, among Mohammedans, nymphsof paradise, of exquisite beauty, 
 t Pronounced Zo-bi -de. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 123 
 
 to ask my dismission, that I might feast my soul with novelty: 
 but my presence was always necessary ; and the stream of 
 business hurried me along. Sometimes I was afraid lest I 
 should be charged with ingratitude ; but I still proposed to 
 travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage. 
 
 12. "In my fiftieth year, I began to suspect that the time 
 of travelling was past ; and thought it best to lay hold on the 
 felicity yet in my power, and indulge myself in domestic pleas- 
 ures. But at fifty no man easily finds a woman beautiful as 
 the Houries, and wise as Zobeide, I inquired and rejected, 
 consulted and deliberated, till the sixty-second year made me 
 ashamed of wisliing to 'marry. I had now nothing left but 
 retirement ; and for retirement I never found a time till disease 
 forced me from public employment. 
 
 13. "Such was my scheme, and such has been its conse- 
 quence. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled 
 away the years of improvement ; with a restless desire of see- 
 ing different countries, I have always resided in the same city; 
 with the highest expectation of connubial felicity, I have lived 
 unmarried ; and with unalterable resolutions of contemplative 
 retirement, I am going to die within the walls of Bagdad." 
 
 LESSON LXIV. 
 
 The Hill of Science. — Aikin. 
 
 1. In that season of the year, when the serenity of the sky, 
 the various fruits which cover the ground, the discolored foliage 
 of the trees, and all the sweet, but fading graces of inspiring 
 autumn, open the mind of benevolence, and dispose it for con- 
 templation, I was wandering in a beautiful and romantic coun- 
 try, till curiosity began to give way to weariness ; and I sat 
 down on the f'-agment of a rock overgrown with moss ; where 
 the rustling of the fallen leaves, the dashing of waters, and the 
 hum of the distant city, sooth my mind into a most perfect 
 tranquillity ; and sleep insensibly stole upon me, as I was in- 
 dulging the agreeable reveries, which the objects around me 
 naturally inspired. 
 
 2. I immediately found myself in a vast extended plain, in the 
 middle of which arose a mountain higher than I had before any 
 conception of. It was covered with a multitude of people, chief- 
 ly youth ; many of whom pressed forward with the liveliest 
 expression of ardor in their countenance, though the way was 
 in many places steep and difficult. 
 
124 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. I observed, that those, who had but just began to dimb 
 the hill, thought themselves not far from the top ; but as they 
 proceeded new hills were continually rising to their view ; and 
 the summit of the highest they could before discern, seemed 
 but the foot of another, till the mountain at length appeared 
 to lose itself in the clouds. As I was gazing on these things 
 with astonishment, a friendly instructor suddenly appeared : 
 " the mountain before thee," said he, " is the Hill of Science. 
 On the top is the Temple of Truth, whose head is above the 
 clouds, and a vail of pure light covers her face. Observe the 
 progress of her votaries; be silent and attentive." 
 
 After I had noticed a variety of objects, I turned my eye 
 towards the multitudes M'ho were climbing the steep ascent ; 
 and observed among them a youth of a lively look, a piercing 
 eye, and something fiery and irregular in all his motions. His 
 name was Genius. He darted like an eagle up the mountain ; 
 and left his companions gazing after him with envy and admi- 
 ration : but his progress was unequal, and interrupted by a 
 thousand caprices. 
 
 5. When Pleasure warbled in the valley, he mingled in her 
 train. When Pride beckoned towards the precipice, he ven- 
 tured to the tottering edge. He delighted in devious and un- 
 tried paths ; and made so many excursions from the road, that 
 his feebler companions often outstripped him. I observed 
 that the Muses* beheld him with partiality ; but Truth often 
 frowned and turned aside her face. 
 
 6. While Genius was thus wasting his strength in eccentric 
 flights, I saw a person of very different appearance, named 
 Application. He crept along with a slow and unremitting 
 pace, his eyes fixed on the top of the mountain, patiently re- 
 moving every stone that obstructed his way, till he saw most 
 of those below him, who had at first derided his slow and toil- 
 some progress. 
 
 7. Indeed, there were few who ascended the hill with equal 
 and uninterrupted steadiness ; for, besides the difllculties of the 
 way, they were continually solicited to turn aside, by a nume- 
 rous crowd of appetites, passions, and pleasures, whose impor- 
 tunity, when once complied with, they became less and less 
 able to resist: and though they often returned to the path, the 
 asperities of the road were more severely felt; the hill appeared 
 
 ♦ Muses, certain goddesses among the ancients, or in heathen mytholoj^v, 
 nine in number, to whom the invention of sciences is attributed, particularly 
 the various kinds of poetry. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 125 
 
 more steep and rugged ; the fruits, which were wholesome and 
 refreshing, seemed harsh and ill tasted ; their sight grew dim ; 
 and their feet tript at every little obstruction. 
 
 8. I saw, with some surprise, that the muses, whose business 
 was to cheer and encourage those who were toiling up the 
 ascent, would often sing in the bowers of pleasure, and accom- 
 pany those who were enticed away at the call of the passions. 
 They accompanied them, however, but a little way ; and al- 
 ways forsook them when they lost sight of the hill. The tyrants 
 then doubled their chains upon the unhappy captives ; and led 
 them away, without resistance, to the cells of Ignorance, or 
 the mansions of Misery. 
 
 0. Amongst the innumerable seducers, who were endeavor- 
 ing to draw away the votaries of Truth from the path of sci- 
 ence, there was one, so little formidable in her appearance, 
 and so gentle and languid in her attempts, that I should scarcely 
 iiave taken notice of her, but for the numbers she had imper- 
 ceptibly loaded with her chains. 
 
 10. Indolence, (for so slie was called,) far from proceeding 
 to open hostilities, did not attempt to turn their feet out of the 
 path, bat contented herself with retarding their progress; and 
 the purpose she could not force them to abandon, she persuaded 
 them to delay. Her touch had a power like that of the torpedo,* 
 which withered the strength of those who came within its influ- 
 ence. Her unhappy captives still turned their faces towards 
 tlie temple, and always hoped to arrive there ; but the ground 
 seemed to slide from beneath their feet, and they found them- 
 selves at the bottom, before they suspected they had changed 
 their place. 
 
 11. The placid serenity, which at first appeared on their 
 countenance, changed by degrees into a melancholy languor, 
 v\d]iich was tinged with deeper and deeper gloom, as they glided 
 down the stream of insignificance ; a dark and sluggish water, 
 which is curled by no breeze, and enlivened by no murmur, till 
 it falls into a dead sea, where startled passengers are awakened 
 by the shock, and the next moment buried in thegulf of oblivion. 
 
 12. Of all the unhappy deserters from the paths of Science, 
 none seemed less able to return than the followers of Indolence. 
 The captives of appetite and passion would often seize the mo- 
 ment when their tyrants were languid or asleep, to escape from 
 
 ♦ Torpedo, a fish that has the power of communicating electric Bhockg; 
 If^ while alive, it is touched even with a long stick, it benumbs the hand that 
 00 touches it It is found in tlie rivers of bouth America. 
 
 11* 
 
126 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR 
 
 their enchantment; but the dominion of Indolence was constant 
 and unremitted ; and seldom resisted till resistance was in vain. 
 
 13. After contemplating these things, I turned my eyes to- 
 wards the top of the mountain, where the air was always pure 
 and exhilarating, the path shaded with laurels and evergreens^ 
 and the effulgence which beamed from the face of Science seem- 
 ed to shed a glory round her votaries. " Happy," said I, " are 
 they who are permitted to ascend the mountain!" But while 
 I was pronouncing this exclamation with uncommon ardor, I 
 saw, standing beside me, a form of diviner features, and a more 
 benign radiance. 
 
 14. " Happier," said she, " are they whom Virtue conducts 
 to the Mansions of Content !" " What," said I, " does Virtue 
 then reside in the vale ?" " I am found," said she, " in the vale, 
 and I illuminate the mountain. I cheer the cottager at his toil, 
 and inspire the sage at his meditation ; I mingle in the crowd 
 of cities, and bless the hermit in his cell. I have a temple in 
 every heart that owns my influence ; and to him that wishes 
 for me, I am already present. Science may raise thee to emi- 
 nence ; but I alone can guide thee to felicity !" 
 
 15. While Virtue was thus speaking, I stretched out my 
 arms towards her, with a vehemence which broke my slumber. 
 The chill dews were falling around me, and the shades of 
 evening stretched over the landscape. I hastened homeward, 
 and resigned the night to silence and meditation. 
 
 LESSON LXV. 
 
 The Vision ofMirza, exhibiting- a Picture of Human Life. — 
 
 Spectator. 
 
 1. On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the 
 custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having 
 washed myself, and ofiered up my morning devotions, I ascend- 
 ed the high hills of Bagdad, in order to pass the rest of the day 
 in meditation and prayer. 
 
 2. As I was here airing myself on the tops of the mountains, 
 I fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human 
 life ; and, passing from one thought to another, " Surely," said 
 I, " man is but a shadow, and life a dream." 
 
 3. Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the 
 summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discovered 
 one in the habit of a shepherd, with a little musical instrument 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 127 
 
 in his hand. As I looked upon him, he appHed it to his lips, 
 and beffan to play upon it. 
 
 4. The sound of it was exceedingly sweetj.and wrought into 
 a variety of tones that were inexpressibly melodious, and alto- 
 gether different from any thing I had ever heard : they put me 
 in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departed 
 souls of good men upon their first arrival in Paradise, to wear 
 out the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify them for 
 the pleasures of that hajipy place. My heart melted away in 
 secret raptures. 
 
 5. I had been often told, that the rock before me was the 
 haunt of a genius,* and that several had been entertained with 
 that music, who had passed by it, but never heard that the 
 musician had before made himself visible. 
 
 6. When he had raised my thoughts, by those transporting 
 airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of his conversation, 
 as I looked upon him like one astonished, he beckoned to me, 
 and, by the waving of his hand, directed me to approach the 
 place where he sat. 
 
 7. I drew near with that reverence which is due to a superior 
 nature ; and as my heart was entirely subdued by the captivat- 
 ing strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet, and wept. 
 
 8. The genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion 
 and affability that familiarized him to my imagination, and at 
 once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I 
 approached him. 
 
 9. He lifted me from the ground, and taking me by the hand, 
 '' Mirza," said he, " I have heard thee in thy soliloquies ; fol- 
 low me." 
 
 10. He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and 
 placing me upon the top of it, *' Cast thy eyes eastward," said 
 he, "and tell me what thou seest." "I see," said I, " a huge 
 valley, and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it." 
 
 11. "The valley that thou seest," said he, "is the vale of 
 misery ; and the tide of water that thou seest, is part of the 
 great tide of eternity." " What is the reason," said I, " that 
 the tide I see, rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again 
 loses itself in a thick mist at the other?" 
 
 13. " What thou seest," said he, " is that portion of eternity 
 which is called Time, measured out by the sun, and reaching 
 from the beginning of the world to its consummation." 
 
 * Genius, a man endowed with superior mental faculties. Among the 
 ancients, a good or evil spirit. 
 
128 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 13. " Examine now," said lie, " this sea that is bounded with 
 darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it," 
 " I see a bridge," said I, " standing in the midst of the tide." 
 " The bridge thou seest," said he, " is human jife ; consider it 
 attentively." 
 
 14. Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found tliat it con- 
 sisted of three score and ten entire arches, with several broken 
 arches, which, added to those that were entire, made up the 
 number about an hundred. 
 
 15. As I was countinor the arches, the genius told me that 
 this bridge consisted at first of a thousand arches ; but that a 
 great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruin- 
 ous condition I now beheld it. " But tell me further," said he, 
 " what thou discoverest on it." — " I see multitudes of people 
 passing over it," said 1, " and a black cloud hanging on each 
 end of it." 
 
 16. As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the pas- 
 sengers dropping through the bridge into the great tide tliat 
 flowed under it; and upon further examination, perceived 
 that there were innumerable trap doors that lay concealed in 
 the bridge, which the passengers no socuier trod upon, but they 
 fell through them into the tide, and immediately disappeared. 
 
 1 7. These hidden pit-falls were set very thick at the entrance 
 of the bridge, so that throngs of people no sooner broke through 
 the cloud, but many of them fell into them. They grew thinner 
 towards the middle, but multiplied and lay closer together to- 
 wards the end of the arches that were entire. 
 
 18. 'i'here were indeed some persons, but their number was 
 very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on the 
 broken arches, but fell through one after another, being quite 
 tired and spent with so long a walk. 
 
 19. I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonder- 
 ful structure, and the ffreat variety of objects which it presented. 
 ISIy heart was filled with a deep melancholy, to see several 
 dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and 
 catching at every thing that stood by them, to save themselves. 
 
 20. Some^ere looking up towards the heavens in a thought- 
 ful posture, and, in the midst of a speculation, stumbled and fell 
 out of sight. 
 
 21. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles 
 that glittered in their eyes, and danced before them ; but often, 
 when they thought themselves within the reach of them, their 
 footing failed, and down they sunk. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 129 
 
 22. In this confusion of objects, I observed some with scime- 
 tars in tlieir hands, and others with urinals, Avho ran to and fro 
 uy)on the bridge, thrusting several persons on trap-doors which 
 did not seem to lie in their way, and which they might have 
 escaped, liad they not been thus forced upon them. 
 
 2.3. The genius seeing me indulge myself in this melancholy 
 prospect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it : " Take 
 thine eyes off the bridge," said he, " and tell me if thou seest 
 any thing thou dost not comprehend." 
 
 24. Upon looking up, " What m.ean," said I, " those great 
 flights of birds that are perpetually hovering about the bridge, 
 and settling upon it from time to time ? I see vultures, harpies, 
 ravens, cormorants, and, among many other feathered creatures, 
 several little winged boys, that perch in great numbers upon 
 the middle arches." 
 
 25. " These," said the genius, " are envy, avarice, supersti- 
 tion, despair, love, with the like cares and passions that infest 
 human life." 
 
 26. I here fetched a deep sigh : " Alas," said I, " man was 
 made in vain ! how is he given away to misery and mortality ! 
 toi'tured in life, and swallowed up in dcatli !" The genius being 
 moved with compassion towards me, bid rne quit so uncomfort- 
 able a prospect. 
 
 27. " Look no more," said he, " on man in the first stage of 
 his existence, in his setting out for eternity ; but cast thine eye 
 on that thick mist into which the tide bears the several genera- 
 tions of mortals that fall into it." 
 
 28. I directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no 
 the good genius strengthened it with any supernatural force, or 
 dissipated part of the mist that was before too thick for the eye 
 to penetrate) I saw the valley opening at the farther end, and 
 spreading forth into an immense ocean, that had a liuge rock of 
 adamant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into 
 two e(jual parts. 
 
 29. The clouds still rested on one half of it, insomuch that I 
 could discover notliing in it : but the other appeared to me a 
 vast ocean, plajited with innumerable islands, tliat #ere covered 
 with fruits and flowers, and interwoven with a thousand little 
 sliining seas that ran among them. 
 
 30. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, with gar- 
 lands upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down by 
 the sides of fountains, or resting on beds of flowers ; and could 
 hear a confused harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human 
 voices, and musical instruments. 
 
130 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 31. Gladness grew in me at the discovery of so delightful a 
 scene. I wished for the wings of an eagle, that I might fly 
 away to those happy seats; but the genius told me there. was 
 no passage to them, except through the gates of death that I saw 
 opening every moment upon the bridge. 
 
 32. " The islands," said he, " that lie so fresh and green be- 
 fore thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean appears 
 spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number than the 
 sands on the sea-shore ; there are myriads of islands behind 
 those which thou here discoverest, reaching further than thine 
 eye, or even thine imagination, can extend itself. 
 
 33. " These are the mansions of good men after death, who 
 according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excel- 
 led, are distributed among these several islands, which abound 
 with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the 
 relishes and perfections of those who are settled in them ; every 
 island is a paradise accommodated to its respective inhabitants. 
 
 34. "Are not these, O Mirza, habitations worth contending 
 for ? Does life appear miserable, that gives thee opportunities 
 of earning such a reward ? Is death to be feared, that will con- 
 vey thee to so happy an existence ? Think not man was made 
 in vain, who has such an eternity reserved for him." 
 
 35. I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on these happy 
 islands. At length, said I, " Show me now, I beseech thee, the 
 secrets that lie hid under those dark clouds, which cover the 
 ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant." 
 
 36. The genius making me no answer, I turned about to 
 address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had 
 left nie : I then turned again to the vision which I had been so 
 long contemplating ; but instead of the rolling tide, the arched 
 bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the long hol- 
 low valley of Bagdad, with oxen, sheep, and camels, grazing 
 upon the sides of it. 
 
 LESSON LXVI. 
 
 The Chameleon* — Merrick. 
 
 1. Oft it has been my lot to mark 
 A proud, conceited, talking spark, 
 With eyes that hardly served at most 
 To guard their master 'gainst a post : 
 
 ♦ Pronounced Ca-me'-le-un, an animal of the lizard kind, subject to va- 
 riations of color. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 131 
 
 Yet round the world the blade has been 
 To see whatever could be seen. 
 Returning from his finish'd tour. 
 Grown ten times perter than before ; 
 Whatever word you chance to drop, 
 The travell'd fool your mouth will stop; 
 '* Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — 
 " I've seen — and sure I ought to know" — 
 So begs you'd pay a due submission, 
 And acquiesce in his decision. 
 
 2. Two travellers of such a cast, 
 As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass'd, 
 And on their way in friendly chat. 
 Now talk'd of this, and then of that, 
 Discours'd awhile, 'mongst other matter, 
 Of the Chameleon's form and nature. 
 
 3. " A stranger animal," cries one, 
 " Sure never liv'd beneath the sun : 
 A lizard's body, lean and long, 
 
 A fish's head, a serpent's tongue, 
 It's foot with triple claw disjoin'd : 
 And what a length of tail behind ! 
 How slow its pace ! and then its hue — 
 Whoever saw so fine a blue ?" 
 
 4. " Hold there," the other quick replies, 
 " 'Tis green — I saw it with these eyes, 
 
 As late with open mouth it lay. 
 And warm'd it in the sunny ray ; 
 Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd. 
 And saw it eat the air for food." 
 
 5. " I've seen it, Sir, as well as you. 
 And must again affirm it blue ; 
 
 At leisure I the beast survey'd 
 E:^tended in the cooling shade." 
 
 6. "'Tis green, 'ds green, Sir, I assure ye" — 
 " Green !" cries the other, in a fury — 
 
 Why, Sir — d'ye think I've lost my eyes !" 
 " 'Twere no great loss," the friend replies, 
 " For if they always serve you thus, 
 You'll find 'em but of little use." 
 
 7. So high at last the contest rose. 
 From words they almost came to blows ; 
 When luckily came by a third : 
 
 To him the question they referr'd ; 
 
132 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 And begg'd he'd tell 'em if he knew, 
 Mliether the thing was green or blue. 
 
 8. " Sirs," cries the umpire, " cease your pother- 
 The creature's neither one r.ort' other. 
 
 I cauglit the animal last night, 
 And view'd it o'er by candle light : 
 I mark'd it well — 'twas black as jet — 
 You stare — but, Sirs, Vve got it yet, 
 And can produce it." — " Pray, Sir, do : 
 I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 
 " And I'll be sworn that when you've seen 
 The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." 
 
 9. " Well then, at once to ease your doubt," 
 Replies, the man, " I'll turn him out : 
 
 And when before you eyes I've set him. 
 If you don't find him black, I'll eat him." 
 
 10. He said ; then full before their sight 
 Produc'd the beast, and lo ! — 'twas white. 
 Both star'd — the man look'd wond'rous wise — 
 " My children," the Chameleon cries, 
 
 (Then first the creature found a tongue) 
 " You all are right, and all are wrong : 
 When next you talk of what you view, 
 Think. others see as well as you : 
 Nor wonder if you find that none 
 Prefers your eye-sight to his own." 
 
 LESSON LXVII. 
 
 T^ Country Bumpkin and Razor seller. — P. Pindar. 
 
 1. A FELLOW, in a market-town, 
 
 Most musical, cried razors up and down. 
 And ofli?r'd twelve for eiifhteen pence ; 
 
 Which, certainly, seem'd wond'rous cheap. 
 
 And, for the money, quite a heap. 
 That every man would buy, with cash and sense. 
 
 2. A country bumpkin the great oflxT heard ; 
 
 Poor Hodge, — who sufTer'd by a broad black beard, 
 That seem'd a shoe-brush stuck beneath his nose, 
 With cheerfulness the eighteen pence he paid, 
 And, proudly, to himself, in whispers said — 
 " This rascal stole the razors, I suppose. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 133 
 
 3. " No matter if the fellow be a knave, 
 Provided that the razors shave ; 
 
 It certainly will be a monstrous prize." 
 
 So home the clown, with his good fortune, went, — 
 Smiling, — in heart and soul content, 
 
 And quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes. 
 
 4. Being well lather'd, from a dish or tub, 
 
 Hodge now began, with grinning pain, to grub — 
 
 Just like a hedger cutting furze : 
 
 'Twas a vile razor ! — then the rest he try'd, — 
 All were impostors. " Ah !" Hodge sigh'd, 
 
 " I wish my eighteen pence were in my purse." 
 
 5. In vain to chase his beard, and bring the graces. 
 
 He cut and dug, and whin'd, and stamp'd, and swore ; 
 Brought blood, and danc'd, blasphem'd, and made wry faces 
 
 And curs'd each razor's body, o'er and o'er. 
 
 His muzzle, form'd of opposition stuff. 
 
 Firm as a Foxite, would not lose its ruff; 
 So kept it — laughing at the steel and suds. 
 
 6. Hodge, in a passion, stretched his angry jaws. 
 Vowing the direst vengeance, with clench'd claws, 
 
 On the vile cheat that sold the goods. 
 " Razors ! a vile confounded dog ! 
 Not fit to scrape a hog." 
 
 7. Hodge sought the fellow — found him — and begun — 
 " Perhaps, Master Razor-rogue ! to you 'tis fun 
 
 That people flay themselves out of their lives. 
 
 You rascal ! for an hour have I been grubbing, 
 
 Giving my crying whiskers here a scrubbing 
 With razors just like oyster-knives. 
 
 Sirrah ! I tell you, you're a knave. 
 
 To cry up razors that can't shave." 
 
 8. '* Friend," quoth the razor-man, " I'm not a knave. 
 As for the razors you have bought, — 
 
 Upon my soul, I never thought 
 That they would shave.''"' 
 
 9. "Not f/^mA: they'd 6rA,a?)e /"'quoth Hodge, with wond'ringeyee 
 And voice not much unlike an Indian yell, 
 
 " What were they made for then, you dog ?" he cries. 
 " Made !" quoth the fellow, with a smile — " to sell." 
 
 12 
 
134 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON LXVIIL 
 
 The Gascon Peasant and the Flies. 
 
 1. At Neuchatel, in France, where they prepare 
 Cheeses, that set us longing to be mites, 
 There dwelt a farmer's wife, famed for her rarer 
 Skill in these small quadrangular delights. 
 
 Where they were made, they were sold for the immense 
 
 Price of three sous* apiece. 
 
 But as salt water made their charms increase. 
 
 In England, the fixed rate was eighteen pence. 
 
 2. This damsel had, to keep her in her farm, 
 To milk her cows, and feed her hogs, 
 
 A Gascon peasant, with a sturdy arm 
 For digging, or for carrying logs : 
 But in his noddle, weak as any baby, 
 
 In fact a gaby : 
 And such a glutton when you came to feed him, 
 That Wantley's dragon, who " ate barns and churches 
 As if they were geese and turkeys," 
 (See the ballad) scarcely could exceed him. 
 
 3. One morn she had prepared a monstrous bowl 
 
 Of cream, like nectar ! 
 And would'nt go to church (good careful soul) 
 Till she had left it safe with a protector ; 
 So she gav^e strict injunctions to the Gascon, 
 To watch it while his mistress was to mass goni 
 Watch it he did ; he never took his eyes off, 
 But licked his upper, then his under lip. 
 And doubled up his fist to drive the flies off, 
 Begrudging them the smallest sip. 
 
 Which if they got, 
 Like my Lord Salisbury, he heaved a sigh, 
 And cried, " Oh happy, happy fly ! 
 How I do envy you your lot." 
 
 3. Each moment did his appetite grow stronger ; 
 His bowels yearned ; 
 At length he could not bear it any longer, 
 But, on all sides his looks he turned, 
 And, finding that the coast was clear, he quaffed 
 The wh ole up at a draught. t 
 
 ♦ Pronounced soo — a sous is of the value of a halfpenny. 
 t Pronounced draft. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 135 
 
 5. Scudding from church, the farmer's wife 
 
 Flew to the dairy ; 
 But stood aghast, and could not, for her life, 
 
 . One sentence mutter. 
 Until she summoned breath enough to utter 
 
 " Holy St. Mary"— 
 And shortly, with a face of scarlet, 
 The vixen* (for she was a vixen) flew 
 
 Upon the varlet ;t 
 Asking the when, and where, and how, and who 
 Had gulped her cream, nor left an atom ? 
 To whir'h he made not separate replies, 
 But with a look of excellent digestion 
 One answer made to every question — 
 
 " The Fhes." 
 
 6. " The flies, you rogue ! — the flies, you guttling dog ! 
 Behold your whiskers still are covered thickly, 
 Thief! Liar! Villain! Gormandizer! Hog! 
 
 I'll make you tell another story quickly." 
 So out she bounced, and brought, with loud alarms, 
 
 Two stout Gens d'Armes,| 
 Who bore him to the Judge : — a little prig 
 
 With angry bottle nose, 
 Like a red-cabbage-rose. 
 While lots of lohite ones flourish'd on his wiff. 
 
 •o' 
 
 7. Looking at once both stern and wise, 
 
 He turned to the delinquent. 
 And 'gan to question him and catechise 
 
 As to which Avay the drink went. 
 Still the same dogged answers rise, 
 " The flies, my lord, — the flies, the flies." 
 
 8. " Pshaw," quoth the Judge, half peevish, and half pompous, 
 
 " Why you're non-com,pos ; 
 You should have watched the bowl, as she desired, 
 
 And killed the flies, you stupid clown." 
 " What, is it lawful then," the dolt inquired, 
 " To kill the flies in this here town ?" 
 
 9. " The man's a fool ! — What question's this ? 
 Lawful ! you booby, — to be sure it is : 
 
 ♦ Vixen, a cross, quarrelsome woman. t Varlet, a scoundrel. 
 
 t Gens d'Ai?nes, guards. 
 
136 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 You've my authority, where'er you meet 'em, 
 To kill the rogues, and, if you like," to eat 'em !" 
 
 10. " Zooks," cried the rustic, " I'm right glad to hear it. 
 Constable, catch that thief! may I go hang 
 If yonder blue bottle (I know his face) 
 Is not the very leader of the gang 
 That stole the cream ; let me come near it." 
 This said, he darted from his place. 
 And aiming one of his sledge-hammer blows 
 At a large fly upon the Judge's nose — 
 
 The luckless blue bottle he smashed ; 
 And gratified a double grudge. 
 For the same catapult completely smashed 
 The bottle nose belonging to the Jud^e ! 
 
 LESSON LXIX. 
 
 The Progress of Untruth. — Byron. 
 
 1. Two honest tradesmen meeting in the Strand,* 
 One took the other, briskly, by the hand ; 
 
 " Hark ye," said he, " 'tis an odd story this, 
 About the crows !" — " I don't know what it is,'* 
 Reply'd his friend — " No ! I'm surpris'd at that ; 
 Where I come from, it's the common chat : 
 
 2. " But you shall hear ; — an odd affair indeed ! 
 And that it happen'd, they are all agreed : 
 
 Not to detain you from a thing so strange, 
 A gentleman that lives not far from 'Change,! 
 This week, in short as all the alley knows. 
 Taking a puke, has thrown up three black cro2VS.^^ 
 
 3. " Impossible !" — " Nay, but it's really true ; 
 I have it from good hands, and so may you" — 
 
 " From whose, I pray ?" so having nam'd the man, 
 
 Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. 
 
 " Sir, did you tell" — relating the affair — 
 
 " Yes, sir, I did ; and if it's worth your care, 
 
 Ask Mr. Such-a-one, he told it me ; 
 
 But, by the bye, 'twas two black crows, not three." — 
 
 ♦ Strand, the name of a street in London. 
 
 t 'Change, for Exchange, a place where merchants and others meet to 
 transact business. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 137 
 
 4. Resolv'd to trace so wond'rous an event, 
 Whip, to the third, the virtuoso went. 
 
 *' Sir," — and so forth — " Why, yes ; the thing is fact, 
 Though in regard to number not exact ; 
 It was not two black crows, 'twas only one, 
 The truth of that you may depend upon." 
 
 5. " The gentleman himself told me the case" — 
 
 •' Where may I find him?" — " Why, in such a place.'* 
 
 Away goes he, and having found him out, 
 
 *' Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt" — 
 
 Then to his last informant he referr'd, 
 
 And begg'd to know, if true what he had heard ; 
 
 a '* Did you. Sir, throw up a black crow?" — " Not I !" 
 '■'■ Bless me ! how people propagate a lie ! 
 Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and one. 
 And here I find all comes at last to no7ie ! 
 Did you say nothing of a crow at all ?" 
 " Crow — crow — perhaps I might — now I recall 
 The matter over" — " And pray, Sir, what wasH ?"— 
 " Why, I was horrid sick, and at the last, 
 I did throw up, and told my neighbor so. 
 Something that was as black. Sir, as a crow." 
 
 LESSON LXX. 
 
 The Voyage of Life. — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 1 . *' Life," says Seneca,* " is a voyage, in the progress of 
 which we are perpetually changing our scenes ; we first leave 
 childhood behind us, then youth, then the years of ripened 
 manhood, then the better and more pleasing part of old age." 
 
 2. The perusal of this passage having excited in me a train 
 of rehections on the state of man, the incessant fluctuation of 
 his wisliea, the gradual change of his disposition to all external 
 objects, and the thoughtlessness w^th which he floats along the 
 stream of time, I sunk into a slumber amidst my meditations, 
 and on a J5udden, found my ears filled with a tumult of labor, 
 the shonta of alacrity, the shrieks of alarm, the whistle of winds, 
 and the daah of waters. 
 
 3. My astonishment for a time repressed my curiosity ; but 
 soon recovering myself so far as to inquire whither we were 
 
 * Lucius AnnseuB Seneca, a celebrated Stoic philosopher, and tragic poet, 
 born at Corduba m Spain, A. D. 12. He was tutor to the tyrant Nero, 
 Emperor of RoB>e, by whom be was cruelly put to death, A. D, 65. 
 
 12* 
 
138 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 going, and what was the cause of such clamor and confusion, I 
 was told that we were launching out into the ocean of life, that 
 we had already passed the straits of infancy, in which multitudes 
 had perished, some by the weakness and fragility of their ves- 
 sels, and more by the folly, perverseness, or negligence of 
 those who undertook to steer them ; and that we were now on 
 the main sea, abandoned to the winds and billows, without 
 any other means of security than the care of the pilot, whom 
 it was always in our power to choose among the great numbers 
 that offered their direction and assistance. 
 
 4. I then looked round with anxious eagerness, and first turn- 
 ing my eyes behind me, saw a stream flowing through flowery 
 islands, which every one that sailed along seemed to behold 
 with pleasure, but no sooner touched, than the current, which, 
 though not nois}'" or turbulent, was yet irresistible, bore him 
 away. Beyond these islands, all was darkness, nor could any 
 of the passengers describe the shore at which he first embarked. 
 
 5. Before me, and on each side, was an ex})anse of waters 
 violently agitated, and covered v/illi so thick a mist, that the 
 most perspicacious* eye could see but a little way. It appeared 
 to be full of rocks and whirlpools ; for many sunk unexpectedly 
 while they were courting the gale with full sails, and insulting 
 those whom they had left behind. 
 
 6. So numerous indeed were the dangers, and so thick the 
 darkness, that no caution could confer security. Yet there 
 were many, who, by false intelligence, betrayed their followers 
 into whirlpools, or by violence pushed those whom they found 
 in their way against the rocks. 
 
 7. The current was invariable and insurmountable ; but 
 though it was impossible to sail against it, or to return to the 
 place that was once passed, yet it was not so violent as to allow 
 no opportunities for dexterity or courage, since, though none 
 could retreat from danger, yet they might avoid it by oblique 
 direction. 
 
 8. It was however not very common to steer with much care 
 or prudence ; for by some universal infatuation, every man ap- 
 peared to think himself safe, though he saw his consorts every 
 moment sinking around him ; and no sooner had tht waves 
 closed over them, than their fate and their misconduct were for- 
 gotten ; the voyage was pursued with the same jocund confi- 
 dence ; every man congratulated himself upon the soundness of 
 his vessel, and believed himself able to stem the whirlpool in 
 
 ♦ Pronounced per-spe-ca'-shus, sharp-sighted. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 139 
 
 which his friend was swallowed, or glide over the rocks on 
 which he was dashed ; nor was it often observed that the sight 
 of a wreck made any man change his course ; if he turned aside 
 for a moment, he soon forgot the rudder, and left himself again 
 to the disposal of chance. 
 
 9. This negligence did not proceed from indifference or from 
 weariness of their condition ; for not one of those, who thus 
 rushed upon destruction, failed, when he was sinking, to call 
 loudly upon his associates for that help which could not now be 
 given him ; and many spent their last moments in cautioning 
 others against the folly by which they were intercepted in the 
 midst of their course. Their benevolence was sometimes prais- 
 ed, but their admonitions were unregarded. 
 
 10. In the midst of the current of life was the gulph of In- 
 temperance, a dreadful whirlpool, interspersed with rocks, of 
 which the pointed crags were concealed under water, ^nd the 
 tops covered with herbage, on which Ease spread couches of 
 repose, and with shades where Pleasure warbled the song of in- 
 vitation. Within sight of these rocks all who sailed on the 
 ocean of life must necessarily pass. 
 
 11. Reason, indeed, was always at hand to steer the passen- 
 gers through a narrow outlet by which they might escape ; but 
 few could, by her entreaties or remonstrances, be induced to 
 put the rudder into her hand, without stipulating that she should 
 approach so near unto the rocks of Pleasure, that they might 
 solace themselves with a short enjoyment of that delicious 
 region, after which they always determined to pursue their 
 course without any other deviation. 
 
 12. Reason was too often prevailed upon so far, by these 
 promises, as to venture her charge within the eddy of the gulph 
 of intemperance, wher©, indeed, the circumvolution was weak, 
 but yet interrupted the course of the vessel, and drew it by 
 insensible rotations towards the centre. She then repented her 
 temerity, and with all her force endeavored to retreat ; but the 
 draught of the gulph was generally too strong to be overcome; 
 and the passenger, having danced in circles with a pleasing and 
 giddy velocity, was at last overwhelmed and lost. 
 
 13. As I was looking upon the various fate of the multitude 
 about me, I was suddenly alarmed with an admonition from 
 some unknown Power: "Gaze not idly upon others, when 
 thou thyself art sinking. Whence is this thoughtless tranquil- 
 lity, when thou and they are equally endangered ?" I looked, 
 and seeing the gulph of Intemperance before me, started and 
 awoke. 
 
140 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR, 
 
 LESSON LXXI. 
 
 The journey of a day ; a picture of human life — Dr. Johnson. 
 
 L Obidah, the son of Abensina, left the caravansary* early 
 in the morning, and pursued his journey through the plains of 
 Hindoostan. He was fresh and vigorous with rest ; he was 
 animated with hope ; he was incited by desire ; he w^alked 
 swiftly forward over the vallies, and saw the hills gradually 
 rising before him. 
 
 2. As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the 
 morning song of the bird of paradise ; he was fanned by the 
 last flutters of the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with dew by 
 groves of spices. He sometimes contemplated the towering 
 heightf of the oak, monarch of the hills ; and sometimes caught 
 tlie gentle fragrance of the primrose, eldest daughter of the 
 spring : all his senses were gratified, and all care was banished 
 from his heart, 
 
 3. Thus he went on, till the sun approached his meridian, 
 and the increasing heat preyed upon his strength ; he then look- 
 ed round about him for some more commodious path. He saw, 
 on his right hand, a grove that seemed to wave its shades as a 
 sign of invitation ; he entered it, and found the coolness and 
 verdure irresistibly pleasant. 
 
 4. He did not, however, forget whither he was travelling: 
 but found a narrow way bordered with flowers, which appeared 
 to have the same direction with the main road ; and was pleas- 
 ed, that, by tliis happy experiment, he had found means to unite 
 pleasure with business, and to gain the rewards of diligence 
 without suflbring its fatigues. 
 
 5. He, therefore, still continued to walk for a time, without 
 the least remission of his ardor, except that he was sometimes 
 tempted to stop by the music of the birds, which the heat had 
 assembled in the shade ; and sometimes amused himself with 
 plucking the flowers that covered the banks on either side, or 
 the fruits that hung upon the branches. At last, the green 
 path began to decline from its first tendency, and to wind among 
 the hills and thickets, cooled with fountains, and murmuring 
 with waterfalls. 
 
 (». Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to consider 
 whether it were longer safe to forsake the known and common 
 track ; but remembering that the heat was now in its greatest 
 violence, and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he resolved 
 
 • A public inn, or tavern. t Pronounced hite. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 141 
 
 to pursue the new path, which he supposed only to make a few 
 meanders,* in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and 
 to end at last in the common road. 
 
 7. HaAdng thus calmed his solicitude, he renewed his pace, 
 though he suspected that he was not gaining ground. This im- 
 easiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on e\^ery new 
 object, and give way to every sensation that might soothe or 
 divert him. He listened to every echo ; he mounted every hill 
 for a fresh prospect ; he turned aside to every cascade ; and 
 pleased himself with tracing the course of a gentle river that 
 rolled among the trees, and watered a large region with innu- 
 merable circumvolutions. 
 
 8. In these amusements, the hours passed away unaccounted ; 
 his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not 
 towards what point to travel. He stood pensive and confused, 
 afraid to go forward, lest he should go wrong ; yet conscious 
 that the time of loitering was noAv past. While he was thus 
 tortured with uncertainty, the sky was overspread with clouds ; 
 the day vanished from before him ; and a sudden tempest gath- 
 ered round his head. 
 
 9. He was now roused by his danger to a quick and painful 
 remembrance of" his folly; he now saw how happiness is lost 
 when ease is consulted ; he lamented the unmanly impatience 
 that prompted him to seek shelter in the grove ; and despised 
 the petty curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While 
 he was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thun- 
 der broke his meditation. 
 
 10. He now resolved to do what yet remained in his power, 
 to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find 
 some issue where the wood might open into the plain. He 
 prostrated himself on the ground, and recommended his life to 
 the Lord of nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity, 
 and pressed on with resolution. The beasts of the desert were 
 in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of 
 rage and fear, and ravage and expiration. All the horrors of 
 darkness and solitude surrounded him : the winds roared in the 
 woods ; and the torrents tumbled from the hills. 
 
 11. Thus forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the 
 wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he 
 was every moment drawing nearer to safety, or to destruction. 
 At length, not fear, but labor, began to overcome him ; hm 
 breath grew short, and his knees trembled ; and he was on the 
 
 Meander, the name of a winding river in Phrygia— a windijig course. 
 
113 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 point of Ipno^ down in resignation to his fate, when he beheld, 
 through the brambles, the glimmer of a taper. 
 
 12. He advanced towards the light ; and finding that it pro- 
 ceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the 
 door and obtained admission. The old man set before him such 
 provisions as he had collected for himself, on which Obidah 
 fed with eagerness and gratitude. 
 
 13. When the repast was over, " tell me," said the hermit, 
 "by what chance thou hast been brought hither? I have been 
 now twenty years an inhabitant of the wilderness, in which I 
 never saw a man before." Obidah then related the occurrences 
 of his journey, without any concealment or palliation. 
 
 14. " Son," said the hermit, " let the errors and follies, the 
 dangers and escape of this day, sink deep into thy heart. Re- 
 member, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We 
 rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor, and full of expecta- 
 tion ; we set forward with spirit and hope, and travel on a while 
 w^ith gaiety and with diligence. 
 
 15. " In a short time, we remit our fervor, and endeavor to 
 find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means 
 of obtaining the same end. We then relax our vigor, and re- 
 solve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance ; but 
 rely upon our ow^n constancy, and venture to approach what 
 we resolve never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, 
 and repose in the shades of security. 
 
 16. " Here the heart softens, and vigilance subsides ; we 
 are then willing to enquire whether another advance cannot be 
 made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon 
 the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with scruple and 
 hesitation ; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling ; 
 and always hope to pass through them without losing the road 
 of virtue, which for a while, we keep in our sight, and to whicli 
 we purpose to return. But temptation succeeds temptation, 
 and one compliance prepares us for another ; we in time lose 
 the happiness of innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual 
 gratifications. 
 
 17. " By degrees, we let fall the remembrance of our original 
 intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational desire. 
 We entangle ourself in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, 
 and rove through the labyrinths of inconstancy ; till the dark- 
 ness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety 
 obstruct our way. We then look back upon our lives with 
 horror, with sorrow, with repentance ; and wish, but too often 
 vainly wish, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue." 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 143 
 
 18. " Happy are they, ray son, who shall learn from thy 
 example, not to despair ; but shall remember, that, though the 
 day is past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one 
 effort to be made : that reformation is never hopeless, nor sin- 
 cere endeavors ever unassisted ; that the M^anderer may at 
 length return after all his errors ; and that he who implores 
 strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficul- 
 ty give way before him. Go now, my son, to thy repose ; 
 commit thyself to the care of omnipotence ; and when the 
 morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy 
 
 LESSON LXXII. 
 
 The Mummy* — Smith. 
 
 1. And thou hast vvalk'd about (how strange a story !) 
 
 In Thebes't streets three thousand years ago. 
 When the Memnonium| was in all its glory, 
 
 And time had not begun to overthrow 
 Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
 Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 
 
 2. Speak ! for thou long enough has acted Dummy, 
 
 Thou hast a tongue — come let us hear its tune : 
 Thou'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy ! 
 
 Revisiting the glimpses of the moon. 
 Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 
 But with thy bones and flesh, and limbs and features. 
 
 * Mummy, a human body embalmed, and wrapped up in linen cloaths 
 impregnated with gums, wax, &c. to prevent its decaying. Mummies are 
 found in Egypt, a short distance from Cairo, in vaulted rooms under ground, 
 cut in quarries of white stone. They are deposited, some in stone tombs, 
 others in chests or coffins made of sicamore wood, which are oflen adorned 
 with many hi-e-ro-glyph-ics, representing the qualities and actions of the 
 deceased. They are supposed to be more than 3,000 years old. 
 
 t Thebes, an ancient city of Egypt, situated on both sides of the Nile, 
 about 360 miles south of Cairo. Homer speaks of it as the city of an hun- 
 dred gates ; and Strabo, a writer of the first century, states that its length 
 was then 10 miles. But the glory of Thebes, belongs to a period prior to 
 the commencement of authentic history. Some suppose it to have been built 
 by Osiris, and others, by Busiris, while others think it more ancient. It is 
 now inhabited by about 3,000 Arabs, v/ho have taken up their abode among 
 its magnificent ruins. 
 
 t Mem-no' -ni-um, a statue of Memnon, king of Ethiopia, which had the pro- 
 perty of uttering a melodious sound at sun-rising. 
 
144 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect, 
 
 To whom should we assign the sphinx's fame ? 
 Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 
 
 Of either Pyramid* that bears his name ? 
 Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? 
 Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ?t 
 
 4. Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden 
 
 By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade, 
 Then say what secret melody was hidden 
 
 In Memnon's statue which at sunrise played ? 
 Perhaps thou wert a Priest — if so, my struggles 
 Are vain ; — Egyptian priests ne'er owned their juggles. 
 
 5. Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, 
 
 Has hob-a-nobb'd v/ith Pharaoh]; glass to glass ; 
 Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat, 
 
 Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido|| pass, 
 Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 
 A torch at the great Temple's dedication. 
 
 6. I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 
 
 Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled. 
 For thon wert dead, and buried, and embalmed. 
 
 Ere Romulus and Remus^ had been suckled : — 
 Antiquity appears to have begun 
 Long after thy primeval race Avas run. 
 
 7. Since first thy form was in this box extended, 
 
 We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations; 
 The Roman empire has begun and LMided ; 
 
 New worlds have risen — we have lost old nations. 
 And countless kings have into dust been humbled. 
 While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 
 
 * Pyr-a-mid, a large, solid bod\^, or edifico, standing on a square or trian- 
 gular base, and terminating in a point at the top. The Pyramids of Egypt 
 have been the wonder of all ages of the world. The largest of them is that 
 of Cheops, near Cairo. It is 500 feet high, and covers more than 11 acres. 
 When, and for what purpose they were built, is unknown. 
 
 t Homer, a celebrated Grecian poet, who lived about 007 B. C. 
 
 t Pronounced Fa'-ro, an ancient king of Egypt. 
 
 li Dido, founder of the Carthaginian Empire, 869 B. C. 
 
 § Romulus and Remus, founders of the Roman Empire, 752 B. C. They 
 were thrown, when infants, into the Tiber, but the river stopped, and a she- 
 wolf came and fed them with her milk. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 145 
 
 8. Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head 
 
 When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses,* 
 March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 
 
 O'erthrew Osiris,t Orus,t Apis,t Isis,t 
 And shook the Pyramids with fear and wonder, 
 
 When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder. 
 
 9. If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed. 
 
 The nature of thy private life unfold ; — 
 A heart has throbb'd beneath that leathern breast, 
 
 And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled : — 
 Have children climb'd those knees, and kiss'd that face ? 
 What was thy name and station, age and race ? 
 
 10. Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead ! 
 Imperishable type of evanescence ! 
 
 Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, 
 And standest undecayed within our presence, 
 Thou wilt hear nothing till the Judgment morning, 
 When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 
 
 11. Why should this worthless tegument endure, 
 If its undying guest be lost for ever ? 
 
 O let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 
 
 In living virtue ; that when both must sever, 
 Although corruption may our frame consume, 
 Th' immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 
 
 LESSON LXXIII. 
 
 The Negroes Complaint, — Cowper. 
 
 1. Forc'd from home and all its pleasures, 
 
 Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
 To increase a stranger's treasures, 
 
 O'er the raging billows borne. 
 Men from England bought and sold me. 
 
 Paid my price in paltry gold ; 
 But though slave they have enroll'd me, 
 
 Minds are never to be sold. 
 
 ♦ Cambyses, the son of Cyrus the Great, was king of Persia, B. C. 529. 
 He made war against the Egyptians, and ravaged their country in a most 
 barbarous manner. He was cruel and vindictive in the extreme. He died 
 in the eighth year of his reign, B. C. 521. 
 
 t An Egyptian god. 
 
 13 
 
146 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. Still in thought as free- as ever, 
 
 What are England's rights I ask, 
 Me from my delights to sever, 
 
 Me to torture, me to task ? 
 Fleecy locks and black complexion 
 
 Cannot forfeit nature's claim ; 
 Skins may differ, but affection 
 
 Dwells in white and black the same. 
 
 3. Why did all-creating nature 
 
 Make the plant for which we toil ? 
 Sighs must fan it, tears must water. 
 
 Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
 Think, ye masters, iron-hearted. 
 
 Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
 Think how many backs have smarted 
 
 For the sweets your cane affords. 
 
 4. Is there, as ye sometimes tell us. 
 
 Is there one who reigns on high ? 
 Has he bid you buy and sell us, 
 
 Speaking from his throne, the sky ? 
 Ask him, if your knotted scourges. 
 
 Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
 Are the means that duty urges, 
 
 Agents of his will to use ? 
 
 5. Hark ! he answers — wild tornadoes,* 
 
 Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
 Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, 
 
 Are the voice with which he speaks. 
 He, foreseeing what vexations 
 
 Afric's sons should undergo, 
 Fix'd their tyrants' habitations 
 
 Where his whirlwinds answer — No. 
 
 6. By our blood in Afric wasted, 
 
 Ere our necks receiv'd the chain ; 
 By the mis'ries that we tasted. 
 
 Crossing in your barks the main ; 
 By our sufferings since ye brought us 
 
 To the man-degrading mart ; 
 All sustain'd by patience, taught us 
 
 Only by a broken heart. 
 
 * Tornado, a violent wind, a hurricane. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 147 
 
 7. Deem our nation brutes no longer, 
 
 Till some reason ye shall find 
 Worthier of regard, and stronger 
 
 Than the color of our kind. 
 Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings 
 
 Tarnish all your boasted pow'rs, 
 Prove that you have human feelings, 
 
 Ere you proudly question ours. 
 
 LESSON LXXIV. 
 
 Victory. — Anonymous. 
 
 1. Waft not to me the blast of fame, 
 
 That swells the trump of victory ; 
 For to my ear it gives the name 
 Of slaughter and of misery. 
 
 2. Boast not so much of honor's sword ; 
 
 Wave not so high the victor's plume ; 
 They point me to the bosom gor'd — 
 
 They point me to the blood-stain'd tomb. 
 
 3. The boastful sliout, the revel loud, 
 
 That strive to drown the voice of pain ; 
 What are they, but the fickle crowd, 
 Rejoicing o'er their brethren slain ? 
 
 4. And ah ! through glory's fading blaze, 
 
 I see the cottage taper, pale. 
 Which siieds its faint and feeble rays, 
 Where unprotected orphans wail — 
 
 5. Where the sad widow weeping stands, 
 
 As if her day of hope was done — 
 Where the wild mother clasps her hands- 
 And asks the victor for her son — 
 
 6. Where the lone maid, in secret, sighs 
 
 O'er the lost solace of her heart, 
 As prostrate, in despair, she lies, 
 And feels her tortur'd life depart ! 
 
 7. Where, midst that desolated land. 
 
 The sire, lamenting o'er his son. 
 Extends his weak and powerless hand, •-> 
 And finds his only prop is gone. 
 
148 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 8. See, how the bands of war and wo 
 Have rifled sweet domestic bliss ; 
 And tell me, if your laurels grow, 
 And flourish in a soil like this ! 
 
 LESSON LXXV. 
 
 Destruction of Jerusalem* 
 \. Jerusalem was built on two mountains, and surrounded 
 by three walls on every side, except where it was enclosed with 
 deep valleys, which were deemed inaccessible. Each wall was 
 fortified by high towers. The celebrated temple, and strong 
 castle of Antonia, were on the east side of the city, and directly 
 opposite to the Mount of Olives. But notwithstanding the pro- 
 digious strength of this famed metropolis, the infatuated Jews 
 brought on their own destruction by their intestine contests. 
 
 2. At a time when a formidable army was rapidly advancing, 
 and the Jews were assembling from all parts to keep the pass- 
 over, the contending factions were continually inventing new 
 methods of mutual destruction, and in their ungoverned fury 
 they wasted and destroyed such vast quantities of provisions as 
 might have preserved the city many years. 
 
 3. Such was the miserable situation of Jerusalem, when 
 Titust began his march towards it with a formidable army ; and 
 
 * Moses led the Jews out of Ecrypt, 1491 B. C. They wandered 40 years 
 in the wilderness, and entered the land of Canaan, or PeJesthic, under Joshua, 
 1451 B. C. After the death of Joshua, which happened 1426 B. C, they 
 were governed 351 years by Judges, when they wished for a king. Saul 
 •was chosen, and anointed king over them 1075 B. C. He was succeeded 
 by David in 1056 B. C. David was succeeded by Solomon in 1015 B. C. 
 Solomon was succeeded by Rehoboam 975 B. C. The same year, ten ot 
 the Jewish tribes revolted, and established the kingdom of Israel, and chose 
 Jeroboam for their king. In 7'21 B. C. Shalmanescr, of Assyria, conquered 
 the ten tribes and carried them into captivity, which put an end to the king- 
 dom of Israel. The two tribes, viz. the tribes of Judah and Benjamin, form- 
 ed the kingdom of Judah. They were oft^en conquered by the surrounding 
 nations, but soon regained their liberty. In 63 B. C. Pompey, a celebrated 
 Roman General, marched an army against Jerusalem, and took it, after a 
 siege of three months. From that period, the Jews became dependent on the 
 Romans: — and after the death of Herod the Great, in A. D. 1, Judea be- 
 came a Roman province, and had rulers appointed by the Emperors of Rome. 
 The rapine and cruelty of the Roman governors, caused the Jews at length 
 to rebel ; — and Titus, a Roman General, marched an army of 60,000 men 
 against them, A. D. 70, and destroyed the Jewish nation. From that time, 
 the Jews have been scattered, contemned, persecuted, and despised among 
 all nations. 
 
 t Titus V^pasian, a distinguished Roman general — afterwards emperor 
 of Rome. He died A. D. 81. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 149 
 
 having laid waste the country in his progress, and slaughtered 
 the inhabitants, arrived before its walls. The sight of the 
 Romans produced a temporary reconciliation among the con- 
 tending factions, and they unanimously resolved to oppose the 
 common enemy. 
 
 4. Their first sally was accordingly made with such fury and 
 resolution, that, though Titus displayed uncommon valor on this 
 occasion, the besiegers were obliged to abandon their camps, and 
 flee to the mountains. No sooner had the Jews a short interval 
 of quiet from their foreign enemies, than their civil disorders 
 were renewed. John, by an impious stratagem, found means 
 to cut off, or force Eleazer's men to submit to him ; and the 
 factions were again reduced to two, who opposed each other 
 with implacable animosity. 
 
 5. The Romans, in the mean time, exerted all their energy 
 in making preparations for a powerful attack upon Jerusalem. 
 Trees were cut down, houses levelled, rocks cleft asunder, and 
 valleys filled up; towers were raised, and battering rams erected, 
 with other engines of destruction, against the devoted city. 
 
 6. After the offers of peace, which Titus had repeatedly sent 
 by Josephus,* were rejected with indignation, the Romans be- 
 gan to play their engines with all their might. The strenuous 
 attacks of the enemy again united the contending parties within 
 the walls, who had also engines, which they plied with uncom- 
 mon fury. They had taken them lately from Cestius, but were 
 so ignorant of their use, they did little execution, while the 
 Roman legions made terrible havoc. 
 
 7. The Jews were soon compelled to retire from the ponder- 
 ous stones, which the Romans threw incessantly from the towers 
 they had erected, and the battering rams were at full liberty to 
 play against the walls. A breach was soon made in it, at which 
 the Romans entered and encamped in the city, while the Jews 
 retreated behind the second enclosure. 
 
 8. The victors immediately advanced to the second wall, 
 and plied their engines and battering rams so furiously, that 
 one of the towers they had erected began to shake, and the 
 Jews, who occupied it, perceiving their impending ruin, set it 
 
 * Flavius Josephus, the ancient historian of the Jews, was bom at Jeru- 
 salem, A. D. 37^ and died in A. D. 93. He studied at Rome, and after- 
 wards bravely defended a small town of Judea against the Romans for seven 
 weeks. The place being taken, Josephus delivered himself up to the Ra- 
 mans, and was received into great favor, and accompanied Titus at the siege 
 of Jerusalem, where he alleviated the raiafortunes of his country, and ob- 
 tained the sacred books of his nation. 
 
 13* 
 
150 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 on fire, and precipitated themselves into the flames. The fall 
 of this structure gave the Romans an entrance into the second 
 enclosure. 
 
 9. They were, however, repulsed by the besieged ; but at 
 length regained the place entirely, and prepared for attacking 
 the third and inner wall. The vast number of people which 
 were enclosed in Jerusalem, occasioned a famine, which raged 
 in a terrible manner ; and, as their calamities increased, the 
 fury of the zealots,* if possible, rose to a greater height. 
 
 10. They forced open the houses of their fellow citizens, in 
 search of pro\dsions ; if they found any, they inflicted the most 
 exquisite tortures upon them, under pretence that they had food 
 concealed. The nearest relations, in the extremity of hunger, 
 snatched the food from each other. 
 
 11. Josephus, who was an eye-witness of the unparalleled 
 sufferings the Jews experienced during the siege of their metro- 
 polis, remarks, that "all the calamities that ever befelany nation 
 since the beginning of the world, were inferior to the miseries o 
 his countrymen at this awful period." Thus we see the exact 
 fulfilment of the em])hatic words of our Saviour respecting the 
 great tribulation in Jerusalem. '-'•For then shall he great trihu- 
 latio7i, svch as was not since the beginning of the world to this 
 timCy no, nor ever shall Se." 
 
 12. Titus, M-ho was apprized of their wretched condition, 
 relaxed the siege four days ; and being still desirous of saving 
 the city, caused provisions to be distributed to his army in sight 
 of the Jews, who flocked upon the walls to beliold it. Josephus 
 was next sent to his countrymen, to attempt to persuade tliem 
 not to plunge themselves in inevitable ruin, by persisting in 
 defence of a place which could hold out but little longer, and 
 which the Romans looked upon as already their own. 
 
 13. He exhorted them, in the most pathetic terms, to save 
 themselves, their temple, and their country ; and painted in 
 strong colors the fatal effects which would result from their 
 obstinacy. But the people, after many bitter invectives, began 
 to dart their arrows at him ; yet he continued to ad(h*ess them 
 with greater vehemence, and many were induced, by his elo- 
 quence, to run the utmost risk in order to escape to the Romans ; 
 w hile others became more desperate, and resolved to hold out 
 to the last extremity. 
 
 14. The Jews, who were forcibly seized by the Romans 
 without the walls, and who made the utmost resistance for fear 
 
 * Zealot, one who engages warmly in a cause, and pursues it with an in- 
 temperate ardor. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 151 
 
 of punishment, were scourged and crucified near the city. — 
 Famine made them so daring in these excursions, that five 
 hundred, and sometimes more, suffered this dreadful death every 
 day ; and, on account of the number, Josephus observes, that 
 "space was wanted for the crosses, and crosses for the captives.'* 
 And yet, contrary to Titus' intention, the seditious Jews were 
 not disposed to surrender by these horrid spectacles. 
 
 15. In order to check desertion, they represented the suffer- 
 ers as suppliants, and not as men taken by resistance. Yet 
 even some, who deemed capital punishment inevitable, escaped 
 to the Romans, considering death, by the handsof their enemies, 
 a desirable refuge, when compared with the complicated distress 
 which they endured. 
 
 16. And though Titus mutilated many, and sent them to 
 assure the people that voluntary deserters were well treated by 
 him, and earnestly to recommend a surrender of the city, the 
 Jews reviled Titus from the walls, defied his menaces, and 
 continued to defend the city by every method which stratagem, 
 courage, and despair, could suggest. 
 
 17. In order to accelerate the destined ruin of Jerusalem, 
 Titus, discouraged and exasperated by the repeated destruction 
 of his engines and towers, undertook the arduous task of en- 
 closing the city with a strong wall, in order to prevent the 
 inhabitants from receiving any succor from the adjacent coun- 
 try, or eluding his vengeance by flight. 
 
 18. Such was the persevering spirit of the soldiers, that in 
 three days they enclosed the city by a wall nearly five miles in 
 circuit. Thus was the prophecy of our Saviour accomplished : 
 " The days shall come upon thee, when thine enemies shall 
 cast a trench about thee, and compass thee round, and keep 
 thee in on every sidc.''^ 
 
 19. Upon this, the famine raged with augmented violence, 
 and destroyed whole families ; while Jerusalem exhibited a 
 horrid spectacle of emaciated invalids and putrescent bodies. 
 The dead were too numerous to be interred ; and many expir- 
 ed in the performance of this office. The public calamity M^as 
 too great for lamentation, and the silence of unutterable wo 
 overspread the city. 
 
 20. The zealots, at this awful period, endeavored to encour- 
 age the obstinacy of the people, by hiring a set of wretches, 
 pretenders to prophecy, to go about the city, and declare the 
 near approach of a speedy and miraculous deliverance. This 
 impious stratagem for a while afforded delusive hopes to the 
 miserable remains of the Je\vdsh nation. But at length an 
 
152 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 affair took place in Jerusalem, which filled the inhabitants with 
 consternation and despair ; and the Romans with horror and 
 indignation. 
 
 21. A Jewess, eminent for birth and opulence, rendered 
 frantic with her sufferings, was reduced to the dreadful ex- 
 tremity of killing and feeding upon her infant. Titus, being 
 apprized of this inhuman deed, swore the total extirpation of 
 the accursed city and people ; and called heaven to witness, 
 that he was not the author of their calamity. 
 
 LESSON LXXVL 
 Destruction of Jerusalem — concluded. 
 
 1. The Romans having pursued the attack with the utmost 
 rigor, advanced their last engines against the walls, after having 
 converted into a desert, for wood to construct them, a country 
 well planted, and interspersed with gardens, for more than 
 eleven miles round the city. They scaled the inner wall, and 
 after a sanguinary encounter, made themselves masters of the 
 fortress of Antonia. 
 
 2. Still, however, not only the zealots, but many of the 
 people, were yet so blinded, that though nothing was now left 
 but the temple, and the Romans were making formidable pre- 
 paration to batter it down, they could not persuade themselves 
 that God would suffer that holy place to be taken by the hea- 
 thens; but still expected a miraculous deliverance. And though 
 the war was advancing towards the temple, they themselves 
 burnt the portico, which joined it to Antonia ; which occasion- 
 ed Titus to remark, that they began to destroy, with their own 
 hands, that magnificent edifice, which he had preserved. 
 
 3. The Roman commander had determined in council not 
 to burn the temple, considering the existence of so proud a 
 structure an honor to himself He therefore attempted to bat- 
 ter down one of the galleries of the precinct; but as the strength 
 of the wall eluded the force of all his engines, tlie troops next 
 endeavored to scale it, but were repulsed with considerable 
 loss. 
 
 4. When Titus found, that his desire of saving the sacred 
 building was likely to cost many lives, he set fire to the gates 
 of tlie outer temple, which being plated with silver, burnt all 
 night, and the flame rapidly communicated to the adjacent 
 galleries and porticoes. TituB, who was still desirous of pre- 
 serving the temple, caused the flames to be extinguished ; and 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 153 
 
 appeased the clamors of his troops, who vehemently insisted on 
 the necessity of razing it to the ground. The following day 
 was therefore fixed upon, for a general assault upon that magni- 
 ficent structure. 
 
 5. The utmost exertions of Titus to save the temple were, 
 however, ineffectual. Our Saviour had foretold its total destruc- 
 tion; and his awful prediction was about to be accomplished. 
 " And now," says Josephus, " the fatal day approached in the 
 revolution of ages, the 10th of August, emphatically called the 
 day of vengeance, in which the first temple had been destroyed 
 by the king of Babylon."* 
 
 6. While Titus was reposing himself in his pavilion, a Ro- 
 man soldier, without receiving any command, but urged as it 
 were by a divine impulse, seized some of the blazing materials, 
 and with the assistance of another soldier, who raised him from 
 the ground, threw them through a window into one of the apart- 
 ments that surrounded the sanctuary. 
 
 7. The whole nortli side, up to the third story, was imme- 
 diately enveloped in flames. The Jews, who now began to 
 suppose that Heaven had forsaken them, rushed in with violent 
 lamentations, and spared no effort, not even life itself, to 
 preserve the sacred edifice on which they had rested their 
 security. 
 
 8. Titus, being awakened by the outcry, hastened to the spot, 
 and commanded his soldiers to exert themselves to the utmost 
 to extinguish the fire. He called, prayed^ and threatened his 
 men. But so great was the clamor and tumult, that his entrea- 
 ties and menaces were alike disregarded. 
 
 9. The exasperated Romans, who resorted thither from the 
 f amp, were engaged either in increasing the conflagration, or 
 killing the Jews ; the dead were heaped about the altar, and a 
 stream of blood flowed at its steps. 
 
 10. Still, as the flames had not reached the inner part of the 
 temple, Titus, with some of his chief ofldcers, entered the sanc- 
 tuary and most holy place, which excited his astonishment and 
 admiration. After having in vain repeated his attempts to 
 prevent its destruction, he saved the golden candlestick, and 
 
 * Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, took Jerusalem — destroyed the tem- 
 ple — and carried the Jews into captivity, B. C. 606. After they had been 
 kept in bondage 70 years, Cyrus the Great, king of Persia, took Babylon, 
 and set them at liberty, B. C. 536. The Jews then returned to Jerusalem, 
 and built the second temple. The^rs^ temple was finished and dedicated 
 by Solomon, B. C. 1004,— the second temple was finished and dedicated 
 B. C. 515. 
 
154 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 table of shew bread, the altar of perfumes, which were all of 
 pure gold ; and the volume of the law, wrapped up in a rich 
 golden tissue. Upon his leaving the sacred place, some other 
 soldiers set fire to it, after tearing off the golden plating from 
 the gates and timber work. 
 
 11. A horrid massacre soon followed, in which prodigious 
 multitudes perished ; while others rushed, in a kind of frenzy, 
 into the midst of the flames, and precipitated themselves from 
 the battlements of their falling temple. Six thousand persons, 
 who, deluded by a false prophet with the hopes of a miraculous 
 deliverance, had fled to a gallery yet standing without the tem- 
 ple, perished at once, by the relentless barbarity of the soldiers, 
 who set it on fire, and suffered none to escape. 
 
 12. The conquerors carried their fury to such a height as to 
 massacre all they met, without distinction of age, sex,or quality. 
 They also burnt all the treasure houses, containing vast quanti- 
 ties of money, plate, and the richest furniture. In a word, they 
 continued to mark their progress with fire and sword, till they 
 had destroyed all, except two of the temple gates, and that part 
 of the court which was destined for the women. 
 
 13. In the mean time, many of the zealots, by making the 
 most vigorous exertions, effected their escape from the temple, 
 and retired into the city. But the avenues were so strictly 
 guarded, that it was impossible for them to escape. They 
 therefore fortified themselves, as well as they were able, on 
 the south vside of it ; from whence Juhn and Simon sent to de- 
 sire a conference with Titus. 
 
 14. They were answered, that though they had caused all 
 this ruin and effiision of blood, yet their lives should be spared, 
 if they would surrender themselves. They replied, that " they 
 had engaged by the most solemn oaths, not to deliver up their 
 persons to him on any condition ; and requested permission to 
 retire to the mountains with their wives and children." The 
 Roman General, enraged at this insolence, ordered proclama- 
 tion to be made, that not one of them should be spared, since 
 they persisted in rejecting his last offers of pardon. 
 
 15. The daughter of Zion, or the lower city, was next aban- 
 doned to the fury of the Roman soldiers, who plundered, burnt, 
 and massacred, with insatiable rage. The zealots next betook 
 themselves to the royal palace, in the upper and stronger part 
 of Jerusalem, styled also the city of David, on Mount Zion. 
 As many of the Jews had deposited their possessions in the pa- 
 lace for security, they attacked it, killed eight thousand four 
 hundred of their countrymen, and plundered their property. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 155 
 
 16. The Roman army spent nearly twenty days in making 
 great preparations for attacking the upper city, especially the 
 royal palace ; during which time many came and made their 
 submission to Titus. The warlike engines then played so furi- 
 ously upon the zealots, that they were seized with a sudden 
 panic, quitted the towers which were deemed impregnable, and 
 ran like mad men towards Shiloah, intending to have attacked 
 the wall of circumvallation, and escaped out of the city. But 
 being vigorously repulsed, they endeavored to conceal them- 
 selves in subterraneous passages ; and as many as were discov- 
 ered, were put to death. 
 
 17. The conpuest of Jerusalem being now completed, the 
 Romans placed their ensigns upon the walls with triumphant 
 joy. They next walked the streets, with swords ift their hands, 
 and killed all they met. Amidst the darkness of that awful 
 night, fire was set to the remaining divisions of the city, and 
 Jerusalem, wrapt in flames, and bleeding on every side, sunk 
 in utter ruin and destruction. 
 
 18. During the siege, which lasted nearly five months, up- 
 wards of eleven hundred thousand Jews perished. John and 
 Simon, the two grand rebels, with seven hundred of the most 
 beautiful and vigorous of the Jewish youth, were reserved, to 
 attend the victor's triumphal chariot. After which, Simon was 
 put to death ; and John, who had stooped to beg his life, con- 
 demned to perpetual imprisonment. 
 
 19. The number who were taken captive, during the fatal 
 contest with the Romans, amounted to ninety-seven thousand ; 
 many of whom were sent into Syria, and other provinces, to be 
 exposed on the public theatres, to fight like gladiators, or to be 
 devoured by wild beasts. The number of those destroyed, 
 during the war, which lasted seven years, is computed to have 
 been one million four hundred and sixty-two thousand. 
 
 20. When the sword had returned to its scabbard, for want 
 of objects whereon to exercise its fury, and the troops were sat- 
 isfied with plunder, Titus commanded the whole city and temple 
 to be demolished. Thus were our Saviour's prophecies fulfilled 
 — " Thine enemies shall lay thee even with the ground, and 
 there shall not he left one stone upon another^ 
 
 * Jerusalem was taken and destroyed by the Romans under Titus, thirty- 
 seven years after the crucifixion of our Saviour. 
 
156 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON LXXVIL 
 
 The Warrior'^s Wreath, — Anonymous. 
 
 \. Behold the wreath which decks the warrior's brow, 
 Breathes it a balmy fragrance sweet 1 Ah, no ! 
 
 It rankly savors of the grave ! 
 *Tis red — but not with roseate hues ; 
 
 'Tis crimsoned o'er 
 
 With human gore ! 
 'Tis wet — ^but not with heavenly dews ; 
 
 2. 'Tis drench'd in tears by widows, orphans shed. 
 Methinks in sable weeds I see them clad, 
 
 And ;iiourn in vain, for husbands slain, 
 Children belov'd, or brothers dear. 
 
 The fatherless 
 
 In deep distress, ^ 
 
 Despairing, shed the scalding tear. 
 
 3. I hear, 'mid dying groans, the cannon's crash, 
 I see, 'mid smoke, the musket's horrid flash — 
 
 Here famine walks — there carnage stalks — 
 Hell in her fiery eye, she stains 
 
 With purple blood. 
 
 The crystal flood. 
 Heaven's altars, and the verdant plains ! 
 
 4. Scenes of domestic peace and social bliss 
 
 Are chang'd to scenes of wo and wretchedness, 
 
 The votaries of vice increase — 
 Towns sack'd — whole cities wrapt in flame ! 
 
 Just Heaven ! say, 
 
 Is this the hay^ 
 Which warriors gain ? — is this call'd FAME ? 
 
 LESSON LXXVIII. 
 
 Elegy written in a Country Church Yard. — Gray. 
 
 L The curfew tolls — the knell of parting day ; — 
 The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ;• 
 The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,* 
 And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 
 * Lea, a meadow, or plain. • 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 157 
 
 2. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds ; 
 Save where the beetle* wheels his droning flight. 
 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 
 
 3. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
 
 The moping owl does to the moon complain 
 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
 Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 
 
 4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 Each in his narrow cell forever laid. 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
 5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn. 
 
 The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shed, 
 The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn. 
 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 
 
 6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
 
 Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
 No children run to lisp their sire's return. 
 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 
 
 7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield ; 
 
 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 
 How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 
 
 How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! 
 
 8. Let not ambition mock their useful toil. 
 
 Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; 
 Nor grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile. 
 The short and simple annals of the poor. 
 
 9. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. 
 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
 Await, alike, the inevitable hour ; — 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 
 
 10. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault. 
 
 If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise. 
 Where, through the long-drawn aisle, and fretted vault, 
 The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 
 
 11. Can storied urn, or animated bust. 
 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 
 ♦ Beetle, an insect. 
 
 14 
 
158 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Can Honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 
 Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ? 
 
 12. Perhaps, in this neglected spot, is laid 
 
 Some heart, once pregnant with celestial fire ; 
 Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, 
 Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre : 
 
 13. But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, 
 
 Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unrol ; 
 Chill Penury repressed their noble rage, 
 And froze the genial current of the soul. 
 
 14. Full many a gem, of purest ray serene. 
 
 The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
 
 15. Some village Hampden,* that, ^vith dauntless breast, 
 
 The little tyrant of his fields withstood ; 
 Some mute, inglorious Miltonf here may rest ; 
 Some Cromwell,! guiltless of his country's blood. 
 
 16. The applause of listening senates to command. 
 
 The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 
 To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land. 
 
 And read their history in a nation's eyes ; 
 
 17. Their lot forbade : nor circumscribed alone 
 
 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; — 
 Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, 
 And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; 
 
 18. The struggling pangs of conscious Truth to hide, 
 
 To quench tlie bluslies of ingenuous Shame ; 
 Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride 
 With incense kindled at tlie muse's flame. 
 
 ♦ John Hampden, an illustrious patriot and political writer in the reign 
 oT Charles I. He was a man of undaunted courage ; — and in 1636. he had 
 the boldness, alone, and unsupported, to resist the royal authority in levyintj 
 ship-money, and although he lost his cause, he was highly applauded by ail 
 for his firmness. He died 1643. 
 
 t John Milton, an English poet, bom 1608. The most celebrated work 
 which he wrote, is " Paradise Lost," 
 
 t Oliver Cromwell, a distinguTshed English General, was bom 1599. — 
 After the death of Charles I., he assumed the title of " Protector of the 
 Commonwealth of England," 1653. He administered the affairs of the 
 kingdom for five years, with great vigor and ability. He died in 1658. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 159 
 
 19. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife. 
 
 Their sober wishes never learned to stray : 
 Along the cool, sequestered vale of life 
 They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. 
 
 20. Yet even these bones from insult to-protect, 
 
 Some frail memorial, still erected nigh. 
 With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 
 Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 
 
 21. Their name, their years, spelled by the unlettered muse, 
 
 The place of fame and elegy supply ; 
 
 And many a holy text around she strews, 
 
 That teach the rustic moralist to die. 
 
 22. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, 
 
 This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, — 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, — 
 Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 
 
 23. On some fond breast the parting soul relies : 
 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires : 
 Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
 Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. 
 
 24. For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead. 
 
 Dost in these lines their artless tale relate. 
 If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate. 
 
 25. Haply, some hoary-Headed swain may say, 
 
 " Oft have we seen him, at the peep of dawn. 
 Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away. 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 
 
 26. " There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech. 
 
 That wreathes its old, fantastic roots so high. 
 His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 
 
 27. "Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn, 
 
 Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 
 Now drooping, woful wan, like one forlorn, 
 
 Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 
 
 28. " One morn I missed him on the accustomed hill, 
 
 Along the heath, and near his favorite tree : 
 Another came ; nor yet beside the rill. 
 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he : 
 
leo NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 29. " The next, with dirges due, in sad array, 
 
 Slow through the church-waj^ path we saw him borne. 
 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay. 
 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn." 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 
 30. Here rests his head, upon the lap of earth, 
 
 A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown : 
 Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth, 
 And Melancholy marked him for her own. 
 
 31. Large was his bounty, and Jiis soul sincere : 
 
 Heaven did a recompense as largely send : — 
 He gave to misery all he had — a tear ; 
 
 He gained from heaven — 'twas all he wished — a friend. 
 
 32. No farther seek his merits to disclose. 
 
 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode — 
 (There they, alike, in trembling hope, repose,) 
 The bosom of his Father and his God. 
 
 LESSON LXXIX. 
 
 Ossian^s* Address to tJie Sun. 
 
 1. O THOU that rollest above, round as the shield of my 
 fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light? 
 Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty, and the stars hide 
 themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the 
 western wave. But thou thyself movest alone : who can be a 
 companion of thy course ? The oaks of the mountains fall ; the 
 mountains themselves decay with years ; the ocean shrinks and 
 cfrows aorain ; the moon herself is lost in heaven ; but thou art 
 for ever the same, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. 
 
 2. When the world is dark with tempests ; when thunder 
 rolls, and lightning flies ; thou lookest in thy beauty, from the 
 clouds, and laughest at the gtorm. But to Ossian, thou lookest 
 in vain ; for he beholds thy beams no more ; whether thy yellow 
 hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates 
 of the west. But thou art perhaps, like me, for a season, and 
 thy years will have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, 
 careless of the voice of the morning. 
 
 * Ossian, an ancient Scotch, or Gaelic poet, supposed to have flourished 
 in the second century, and to have been the son of Fingal. His poems were 
 translated. by Mr. M'Pherson, in 1762. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 161 
 
 3. Exult then, O sun, in the strength of thy youth ! Age is 
 dark and unlovely ; it is like the glimmering light of the moon, 
 when it shines through broken clouds, and the mist is on thr 
 hills ; the blast of the north is on the plain, the traveller shrink ' 
 in the midst of his journey. 
 
 LESSON LXXX. 
 
 The African Chief. — U. S. Literary Gazette. 
 
 1. Chain'd in the market-place he stood, 
 
 A man of giant frame, 
 Amid the gathering multitude 
 
 That shrunk to hear his name, — 
 All stern of look and strong of limb, 
 
 His dark eye on the ground ; 
 And silently they gaz'd on him, 
 
 As on a lion bound. 
 
 2. Vainly, but well, that chief had fought — 
 
 He was a captive now ; 
 Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, 
 
 Was written on his brow : 
 The scars his dark broad bosom wore 
 
 Showed warrior true and brave : 
 A prince among his tribe before, 
 
 He could not be a slave. 
 
 3. Then to his conqueror he spake, 
 
 " My brother is a king : 
 Undo this necklace from my neck. 
 
 And take this bracelet ring, 
 And send me where my brother reigns, 
 
 And I will fill thy hands 
 With store of ivory from the plains. 
 
 And gold dust from the sands." 
 
 4. " Not for thy ivory nor thy gold 
 
 Will I unbind thy chain ; 
 That bloody hand shall never hold • 
 
 The battle-spear again. 
 A price thy nation never gave 
 
 Shall yet be paid for thee ; 
 For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, 
 
 In land beyond the sea." 
 
163 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 6. Then wept the warrior chief, and bade 
 
 To shred his locks away ; 
 And, one by one, each heavy braid 
 
 Before the victor lay. 
 Thick were the platted locks, and long, 
 
 And deftly hidden there 
 Shone many a wedge of gold among 
 
 The dark and crisped hair. 
 
 6. " Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold, 
 
 Long kept for sorest need : 
 Take it — thou askest sums untold — 
 
 And say that I am freed. 
 Take it — my Mdfe, the long, long day, 
 
 "Weeps by the cocoa tree. 
 And my young children leave their play, 
 
 And ask in vain for me." 
 
 7. " I take thy gold, — but I have made 
 
 Thy fetters fast and strong. 
 And ween* that by the cocoa shade 
 
 Thy wife shall wait thee long." 
 Strong was the agony that shook 
 
 The captive's frame to hear, 
 And the proud meaning of his look 
 
 Was chang'd to mortal fear. 
 
 8. His heart was broken — craz'd his brain — 
 
 At once his eye grew wild : 
 He struggled fiercely with his chain, 
 
 Whisper'd, — and wept, — and smil'd ; 
 Yet wore not long those fatal bands, 
 
 And once, at shut of day. 
 They drew him forth upon the sands, 
 
 The foul hyena'sf prey. 
 
 LESSON LXXXL 
 
 Formation of Character. — J. Hawes, D. D. 
 
 1. It is ever' to be kept in mind, that a good name is in all 
 cases the fruit of personal exertion. It is not inherited from 
 
 * Ween, to think, to imagine, to fancy. 
 
 t The Hy-e-na is a most hateful and disgustincr animal, about the size of 
 a lar^e dog. He is found in Asia and Africa. He prefers to cat the fleah 
 of animals iii.a putrid state 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 163 
 
 parents ; it is not created by external advantages ; it is no 
 necessary appendage of birth, or wealth, or talents, or station ; 
 but the result of one's own endeavors, — the fruit and reward of 
 good principles, manifested in a course ofvirtuous and honorable 
 action. This is the more important to be reoiarked, because it 
 shows that the attainment of a good name, whatever be your 
 external circumstances, is entirely within your power. 
 
 2. No young man, however humble his birth, or obscure his 
 condition, is excluded from the invaluable boon. He has only 
 to fix his eye upon the prize, and press towards it, in a course 
 of virtuous and useful conduct, and it is his. And it is interest- 
 ing to notice how many of our worthiest and best citizens have 
 risen to honor and usefulness by dint of their own persevering 
 exertions. They are to be found, in great numbers, in each of 
 the learned professions, and in every department of business ; 
 and they stand forth, bright and animating examples of what 
 can be accomplished by resolution and eflbrt. 
 
 3. Indeed, my friends, in the formation of character, personal 
 exertion is the first, the second, and the third virtue. Nothing 
 great or excellent can be acquired without it. A good name 
 will not come without being sought. All the virtues of which it 
 is composed are the result of untiring application and indust^}^ 
 Nothinof can be more fatal to the attainment of a grood character 
 than a treacherous confidence in external advantages. These, 
 if not seconded by your own endeavors, " will drop you mid 
 way : or perhaps you will not have started, when the diligent 
 traveller will have won the race." 
 
 4. To the formation of a good character, it is of the highest 
 importance that you have a commanding object in view, and 
 that your aim in life h^ elevated. ■ To this cause, perhaps, 
 more than to any other, is to be ascribed the great difference 
 which appears in the characters of men. Some start in life 
 with an object yi view, and are determined to attain it ; whilst 
 others live witliout plan, and reach not for the prize set before 
 them. The energies of the one are called into vigorous action, 
 and they rise to eminence ; whilst the others are left to slumber 
 in ignoble ease and sink into obscurity. 
 
 5. It is an old proverb, that he who aims at the sun, to be 
 sure will not reach it, but his arrow will fly higher than if he 
 aimed at an object on a level with himself. Just so in the for- 
 mation of character. Set your standard high ; and, though you 
 may not reach it, you can hardly fail to rise higher than if you 
 aimed at some inferior excellence. Young men are not, in gen- 
 eral, conscious of what they are capable of doing. 
 
164 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 6. Tliey do not task their faculties, nor improve their powers, 
 nor attempt, as they ought, to rise to superior excellence. They 
 have no high, commanding object, at which to aim ; but often 
 seem to be passing away life without object and without aim. 
 The consequence is, their efforts are few and feeble ; they are 
 not waked up to any thing great or distinguished ; and therefore 
 fail to acquire a character of decided worth. 
 
 7. My friends. You may be whatever you resolve to be. — 
 Resolution is omnipotent. Determine that you will be some- 
 thing in the world, and you shall be something. Aim at excel- 
 lence, and excellence will be attained. This is the great secret 
 of effort and eminence. I cannot do it, never accomplished any 
 thing ; / will try, has wrought wonders. 
 
 8. You have all perhaps heard of the young man, who, hav- 
 ing wasted, in a short time, a large patrimony, in profligate 
 revels, formed a purpose, while hanging over the brow of a 
 
 Erecipice from which he had determined to throw himself, that 
 e would regain what he had lost. The purpose thus formed 
 lie kept ; and though he began by shovelling a load of coals 
 into a cellar, he proceeded from one step to another, till he 
 more than recovered his lost possession, and died an inveterate 
 miser, worth sixty thousand pounds. 
 
 9. I mention this, not as an example to be imitated, but as 
 a signal instance of what can be accomplished by fixed purpose 
 and persevering exertion. A young man who sets out in life 
 with a determination to excel, can hardly fail of his pur{)ose. 
 There is, in his case, a steadiness of aim, — a concentration of 
 feeling and effort, which bear him onward lo his object with 
 irresistible energy, and render success, in whatever he under- 
 takes, certain. 
 
 LESSON LXXXn. • 
 
 On Happiness of Temper. — Goldsmith. 
 
 1. Writers of every age have endeavored to show — that 
 pleasure is in us, and not in the objects oflered for our amuse- 
 ment. If the soul be happily disposed, every thing becomes 
 capable of affording entertainment; and distress will almost 
 want a name. Every occurrence passes in review, like the 
 figures of a procession; some may be awkward, others ill dress- 
 ed ; but none but a fool is, for this, enraged with the master 
 of the ceremonies. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 165 
 
 2. I remember to have once seen a slave, in a fortification in 
 Flanders, who appeared no way touched with his situation. " 
 He was maimed, deformed, and chained ; obliged to toil fram 
 the appearance of day till night-fall, and condemned to this for 
 life ; yet, with all these circumstances of apparent wretched- 
 ness, he sung, would have danced, but that he wanted a leg, 
 and appeared the merriest, happiest man of all the garrison. 
 
 3. What a practical philosophy was here ! a happy consti- 
 tution supplied philosophy ; and though seemingly destitute of 
 wisdom, he was really wise. No reading or study had contri- 
 buted to disenchant the fairy-land around him. Every thing 
 furnished him with an opportunity of mirth ; and though some 
 thought him, from his insensibility, a fool — he was such an 
 idiot as philosophers should wish to imitate ; for all philosophy 
 is only forcing the trade of happiness, when Nature seems to 
 deny the means. • 
 
 4. They who, like our slave, can place themselves on that 
 side of the world in which every thing appears in a pleasing 
 light, will find something in every occurrence to excite their 
 good humor. The most calamitous events either to themselves 
 or others, can bring no new affliction ; the whole world is, to 
 them, a theatre, on which comedies only are acted. All the 
 bustle of heroism, or the rants of ambition, serve only to heigh- 
 ten the absurdity of the scene, and make the humor more poig- 
 nant. They feel, in short, as little anguish at their own dis- 
 tress, or the complaints of others, as the undertaker, though 
 dressed in black, feels sorrow at a funeral. 
 
 5. Of all the men I ever read of, the famous Cardinal de Retz 
 
 {)0ssessed this happiness of temper in the highest degree. As 
 le was a man of gallantry, and despised all that wore the pe- 
 dantic appearance of philosophy, wherever pleasure was to be 
 sold, he was generally foremost to raise the auction. Being a 
 universal admirer of the fair sex — when he found one lady cruel, 
 he generally fell in love with another, from whom he expected 
 a more favorable reception. If she, too, rejected his addresses, 
 he never thought of retiring into deserts, or pining in hopeless 
 distress: he persuaded himself — that, instead of lo^dng the lady 
 he had only fancied that he had loved her ; — and so all was 
 well again. 
 
 6. When fortune wore her angriest look, and he at last fell 
 into the power of his most deadly enemy. Cardinal Mazarine, 
 (being confined a close prisoner in the castle of Valenciennes,*) 
 
 * Pronounced Val-en-scenes', a city in the north of France, situated onihe 
 river Scheldt. 
 
166 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 he never attempted to support his distress by wisdom or philo- 
 sophy ; for he pretended to neither. He only laughed at him- 
 self and his persecutor ; and seemed infinitely pleased at his 
 new situation. In this mansion' of distress, — though secluded 
 from his friends, — though denied all the amusements, and even 
 the conveniences of life, he still retained his good humor ; 
 laughed at the little spite of his enemies : and carried the jest 
 so far — as to be revenged, by writing the life of his jailer. 
 
 7. All that the wisdom of the proud can teach — is to be stub- 
 born, or sullen, under misfortunes. The Cardinal's example 
 will instruct us to be merry, in circumstances of the highest 
 affliction. It matters not whether our good humor be constru- 
 ed, by others, into insensibility ; or even idiotism ; it is happi- 
 ness to ourselves ; and none but a fool would measure his sat- 
 isfaction by what the world thinks of it. 
 
 8. The happiest silly fellow I ever knew, was of the number 
 of those good natured creatures that are said to do no harm to 
 any but themselves. Whenever he fell into any misery, he 
 called it, " seeing life." If his head was broke by a chairman, 
 or his pocket picked by a sharper, he comforted himself by im- 
 itating the Hibernian dialect of the one, or the more fashiona- 
 ble cant of the other. Nothing came amiss to him. 
 
 9. His inattention to money matters had incensed his father 
 to such a degree, that all intercession of friends in his favor 
 was fruitless. The old gentleman was on his death bed. The 
 whole family (and Dick among the number) gathered around 
 him. 
 
 10. " I leave my second son, Andrew," said the expiring 
 miser, " my whole estate ; and desire him to be frugal." — 
 Andrew, in a sorrowful tone, (as is usual on those occasions) 
 prayed Heaven to prolong his life and health to enjoy it 
 himself! 
 
 11. "I recommend Simon, my third son, to the care of his 
 elder brother ; and leave him, beside, four thousand pounds." 
 " Ah ! father," cried Simon, (in great affliction to be sure) 
 " may Heaven give you life and health to enjoy it yourself!" 
 
 12. At last — turning to poor Dick, " as for you, you have 
 always been a sad dog ; you'll never come to good : you'll 
 never be rich ; I leave you a shilling, to buy a halter." " Ah ! 
 father," cries Dick, without any emotion, "may Heaven give 
 you life and health to enjoy it yourself P^ 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 167 
 
 LESSON LXXXIIL 
 
 The Sleepers. — Miss M. A. Browne. 
 
 \. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping? 
 
 Children, wearied with their play ; 
 For the stars of night are peeping. 
 
 And the sun hath sunk away. 
 As the dew upon the blossoms 
 
 Bow them on their slender stem, 
 So, as light as their own bosoms, 
 
 Balmy sleep hath conquered them, 
 
 2. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 
 
 Mortals, compassed round with wo. 
 Eyelids, wearing out with weeping, 
 
 Close for very weakness now : 
 And that short relief from sorrow, 
 
 Harassed nature shall sustain, 
 Till they wake again to-morrow, 
 
 Strengthened to contend with pain ! 
 
 3. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 
 
 Captives, in their gloomy cells ; 
 Yet sweet dreams are o'er them creeping ; 
 
 With their many-colored spells. 
 All they love — again they clasp them; 
 
 Feel again their long-lost joys ; 
 But the haste with which they grasp them, 
 
 Every fairy form destroys, 
 
 4. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 
 
 Misers, by their hoarded gold ; 
 And in fancy now are heaping 
 
 Grems and pearls of price untold. 
 Golden chains their limbs encumber. 
 
 Diamonds seem before them strown : 
 But they waken from their slumber. 
 
 And the splendid dream is flown, 
 
 5. They are sleeping ! W^ho are sleeping X 
 
 Pause a moment, softly tread ; 
 Anxious friends are fondly keeping 
 
 Vigils by the sleeper's bed ! 
 Other hopes have all forsaken, — 
 
 One remains, — that slumber deep 
 Speak not, lest the slumberer waken 
 
 From that sweet, that saving sleep. 
 
 ^ 
 
168 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 6. They are sleeping ! Who are sleeping ? 
 
 Thousands, who have pass'd away. 
 From a world of wo and weeping, 
 
 To the regions of decay ! 
 Safe they rest, the green turf under : 
 
 Sighing breeze, or music's breath, 
 Winter's wind, or summer's thunder, 
 
 Cannot break the sleep of death ! 
 
 LESSON LXXXIV. 
 
 A Good Scholar. — May. 
 
 L A GOOD scholar is known by his obedience to the rules oi 
 the school, and to the directions of his teacher. He does not 
 give his teacher the trouble of telling him the same thing over 
 and over again ; but says or does immediately whatever he is 
 desired. His attendance at the proper time of school is always 
 punctual. Fearful of being too late, as soon as the hour of 
 meeting approaches, he hastens to the school, takes his place 
 quietly, and instantly attends to his lesson. He is remarkable 
 for his diligence and attention. He reads no other book than 
 that which he is desired to read by his master. He studies no 
 lessons but those which are appointed for the day. 
 
 2. He takes no toys from his pocket to amuse himself or 
 others ; he has no fruit to eat, no sweetmeats to give avvay.- 
 If any of his companions attempt to take off his eye or his mini 
 from his lesson, he does not give heed to them. If they stil 
 try to make him idle, he bids them let him alone, and do their 
 own duties. And if, after this, they go on to disturb and vex 
 him, he informs the teacher, that both, for their sake and for 
 his own, he may interfere, and, by a wise reproof, prevent the 
 continuance of such improper and hurtful conduct. 
 
 3. When strangers enter the school, he does not stare rudely 
 in their faces ; but is as attentive to his lesson as if no one were 
 present but the master. If they speak to him, he answers with 
 modesty and respect. When the scholars in his class are read- 
 ing, spelling, or repeating any thing, he is very attentive, and 
 studies to learn by listening to them. His great desire is to 
 improve, and therefore he is never idle, — not even when he 
 might be so, and yet escape detection and punishment. 
 
 4. He minds his business as well when his teacher is out of 
 sight, as when he is standing near him, or looking at him. If 
 possible, he is more diligent when his teacher happens for a little 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 169 
 
 to be away from him, that he may show " all good fidelity" in 
 this, as in every thing else. He is desirous of adding to the 
 knowledge he has already gained, of learning something useful 
 every day. And he is not satisfied if a day passes without 
 making him wiser than he was before, in those things which 
 will be of real benefit to him. 
 
 5. When he has a diflicult lesson to learn, or a hard task to 
 perform, he does not fret or murmur at it. He knows that his 
 master would not have prescribed it to him, unless he had 
 thought that he was able for it, and that it would do him good. 
 He therefore sets about it readily ; and he encourages himself 
 with such thoughts as these : " My parents will be very glad 
 when they hear that I have learned this diflicult lesson, and 
 performed this hard task. My teacher, also, will be pleased 
 with me for my diligence. And I myself shall be comfortable 
 and happy when the exercise is finished. The sooner and the 
 more heartily I apply myself to it, the sooner and the better it 
 will be done." 
 
 6. When he reads, his words are pronounced so distinctly, 
 that you can easily hear and understand him. His copy book 
 is fairly written, and free from blots and scrawls. His letters 
 are clear and full, and his strokes broad and fine. His figures 
 are well made, accurately cast up, and neatly put down in their 
 regular order ; and his accounts are, in general, free' from 
 mistakes. 
 
 7. He not only improves himself, but he rejoices in the im- 
 provement of others. He loves to hear them commended, and 
 to see them rewarded. " If I do well," he says, " I shall be 
 commended and rewarded too; and if all did well, what a happy 
 school would ours be ! We ourselves should be much more 
 comfortable ; and our master would have a great deal less 
 trouble and distress than he has, on account of the idleness and 
 inattention, of which too many of us are guilty." 
 
 8. His books he is careful to preserve from every thing that 
 might injure them. Having finished his lesson, he puts them in 
 their proper place, and does not leave them to be tossed about, 
 and, by that means, torn and dirtied. He never forgets to pray 
 for the blessing of God on himself, on his school-fellows, and on 
 his teacher ; for he knows that the blessing of God is necessary 
 to make his education truly useful to him, both in this life-, and 
 in that which is to come. 
 
 9. And, finally, it is his constaat endeavor to behave well 
 when he is out of school, as well as when he is in it. He remem- 
 bers that the eye of God is ever upon him, and that he must at 
 
 15 
 
170 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 last give an account of himself to the great Judge of all. And, 
 therefore, he studies to practise, at all times, the religious and 
 moral lessons that he receives from his master, or that he reads 
 in the Bible, or that he meets with in the other books that are 
 given him to peruse; and to » walk in all the commandments 
 and ordinances of the Lord, blameless." 
 
 LESSON LXXXV. 
 Select Sentences. 
 
 1. If the mind is well cultivated, it produces a store of fruit ; 
 if neglected, it is overrun with weeds. 
 
 2. The young are slaves to novelty ; — the old to custom. 
 
 3. Ingratitude is more baneful than a pestilential vapor, — 
 and mor'e destructive to society than a band of robbers. 
 
 4. There is nothing honorable, that is not innocent ; — and 
 nothing mean, but what attaches guilt. 
 
 5. As, among wise men, he is #ie wisest who thinks he knows 
 the least, — so, among fools, he is the greatest who thinks he 
 knows the most. 
 
 6. Precipitation ruins the best contrived plan ; — patience 
 ripens the most difficult. 
 
 7. It was a saying of Socrates, that we should eat and drink 
 in order to live ; instead of living as many do, in order to eat 
 and drink. 
 
 8. Men make themselves ridiculous, not so much by the 
 qualities they have, as by the affectation of those they have not. 
 
 9. The injuries we do, and those we suffer, are seldom weigh- 
 ed in the same balance. 
 
 iO. Never delay to a future period, that which can be done 
 immediately, — nor transfer to another, what you can perform 
 yourself. 
 
 11. Be sincere in all your words, — prudent in all your ac- 
 tions, — and obliging in all your manners. 
 
 12. Seriousness is the greatest wisdom, — temperance, the 
 best medicine, — and a good conscience, the best estate. 
 
 13. It is better to do and not promise, — than to promise and 
 not perform. 
 
 14. No station is so high, no power so great, no character so 
 unblemished, as to exempt men from the attacks of rashness, 
 malice, or envy. 
 
 15. Contemporaries appreciate the man rather than the merit : 
 but posterity will regard the merit rather than the man. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 171 
 
 16. Mystery magnifies danger, as a fog the sun ; the hand 
 that warned the eastern prince,* derived its horrifying influence 
 from the want of a body. 
 
 17. True friendship is hke sound health, — the value of it is 
 seldom known until it be lost. 
 
 18. Young folks tell what they do, — old ones what they have 
 done, — and fools what they will do. 
 
 19. From principles is derived probability ; but truth is ob- 
 tained only from facts. 
 
 20. The volume of nature is the book of knowledge, and he 
 becomes most wise, who makes the most judicious selection. 
 
 21. Title and ancestry render a good man more illustrious ; — 
 but an ill one more contemptible. Vice is infamous, though in 
 a prince ; — and virtue honorable, though in a peasant. 
 
 22. What you keep by you, you may mend and change ; — 
 but words once spoken can never be recalled. 
 
 23. What is the most constant of all things ? — hope ; — be- 
 cause it still remains with man, after he has lost every thing 
 else. 
 
 24. A just man should account nothing more precious than 
 his word, — nothing more venerable than his faith, — and nothing 
 more sacred than his promise. 
 
 25. A hypocrite is hated by the world for seeming what he 
 is not : but he will be condemned by his Creator for not being 
 what he seems. 
 
 26. The greatest friend of truth, is time, — her greatest enemy 
 is prejudice, — and her constant companion is humility. 
 
 27. When you have nothing to say, say nothing ; — a weak 
 defence strengthens your opponent, and silence is less injurious 
 than a bad reply. 
 
 28. When the million applaud you, seriously ask yourself 
 what harm you have done : — when they censure you, what 
 ^ood ? 
 
 29. Mental pleasures never cloy ; unlike those of the body, 
 they are increased by repetition ; approved of by reflection ; 
 and strengthened by enjoyment. 
 
 30. Vice stings us, even in our pleasures, — but virtue con- 
 soles us, even in our pains. 
 
 31. Let fame be regarded, but conscience much more. It is 
 an empty joy to appear better than you are ; — but a great bless- 
 ing to he what you ought to be. 
 
 * See the 5th chapter of Daniel. 
 
173 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 32. The first ingredient in conversation, is truth ; — the next, 
 good sense ; the third, good humour ; the last, wit. 
 
 33. The man of virtue, is an honor to his country, — a credit 
 to human nature, — and a benefactor to the world. He is rich 
 without oppression, — charitable without ostentation, — courte- 
 ous without deceit, — and brave without vice. 
 
 34. The difference there is betwixt honor and honesty, seems 
 to be chiefly in the motive. The honest man does that from 
 duty, which the man of honor does for the sake of character. 
 
 35. Men's evil manners live in brass ; — their virtues we 
 write in water. 
 
 36. Fine sense, and exalted sense, are not half so valuable 
 as common sense. There are forty men of wit for one man of 
 sense ; — and he that will carry nothing about him but gold, will 
 be every day at a loss for want of ready change. 
 
 37. A wise man will desire no more than what he may get 
 justly, — use soberly, — distribute cheerfully, — and live upon 
 contentedly. 
 
 38. You have obliged a man ; — very well. What would 
 you have more ? Is not the consciousness of doing good a suffi- 
 cient reward ? 
 
 39. Agesilaus, king of Sparta,* being asked the means of 
 establishing a high reputation, answered, — " Speak well, and 
 act better." 
 
 40. Cowards die many times ; the valiant never taste of 
 death but once. 
 
 41. If you want your business done, go ; — if not, send. 
 
 42. Cruel men are the greatest lovers of mercy — avaricious 
 men of generosity — and proud men of humility ; — that is to say, 
 — in others, — not in themselves. 
 
 43. He that is good, will infallibly become better ; and he 
 that is bady will as certainly become worse ; — for vice, virtue, 
 and time, are three things that never stand still. 
 
 44. Socrates being asked what was the best mode of gaining 
 a high reputation, replied, " To be what you appear to be." 
 
 45. If the spring put forth no blossoms, — in summer there 
 will be no beauty, — and in autumn no fruit. So if youth be 
 trifled away without improvement, — manhood will be contempt- 
 ible, — and old age miserable. 
 
 ♦ Sparta, a state of ancient Greece. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 173 
 
 LESSON LXXXVL 
 
 Select Paragraphs. 
 
 \. Be studious, and you will be learned. Be industrious and 
 frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you 
 will be healthy. Be virtuous, and you will be happy. 
 
 2. Man, if he compare himself with all that he can see, is at 
 the zenith of power ; — but if he compare himself with all that 
 he can conceive, he is at the nadir of weakness. 
 
 3. We esteem most things according to their intrinsic merit ; 
 — it is strange man should be an exception. We prize a horse 
 for his strength and courage, — not for his furniture. We prize 
 & man for his sumptuous palace, — his great train, — hi^ vast 
 revenue ; — yet these are his furniture, not his mind. 
 
 4. The kindnesses, which most men receive from others, are 
 like traces drawn in the sand. The breath of every passion 
 sweeps them away, and they are remembered no more. But 
 injuries are like inscriptions on monuments of brass, or pillars 
 of marble, which endure, unimpaired, the revolutions of time. 
 
 5. Man, always prosperous, would be giddy and insolent ; — 
 always afflicted, would be sullen or despondent. Hopes and 
 fears, joy and sorrow, are therefore, so blended in his life, as 
 both to give room for worldly pursuits, and to recall from time 
 to time the admonitions of conscience. 
 
 6. He, who would pass the latter part of his life with honor 
 and decency, must, when he is young, consider that he shall one 
 day be old, — and remember when he is old, that he has once 
 been young. 
 
 7. The pensionary De Witt,* being asked how he could 
 transact such a variety of business without confusion, answered, 
 ■ — that he never did but one thing at a time. 
 
 8. He, who governs his passions, does more than he who 
 commands armies. Socrates, being one day offended with his 
 servant, said, — " I would beat you if 1 were not angry." 
 
 9. No rank in life precludes the efficacy of a well timed com- 
 pliment. When Queen Elizabeth! asked an Ambassador how 
 he liked her ladies, he replied, — " It is hard to judge of stars in 
 presence of the sun." 
 
 * John De Witt, the famous pensionary of Holland, was born at Dort, in 
 Holland, 1625. He was the greatest genius of his time, and the ablest poli- 
 tician ; but was barbarously murdered by a mob, in 1672. 
 
 t Elizabeth, queen of England, was born 1583, and commenced her reign 
 in 1558. She was a person of accomplished manners, and a well cultivated 
 mind. She died in 1603. 
 
 15* 
 
174 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 10. We too often judge of men by the splendor, and not by 
 the merit of their actions. Alexander demanded of a pirate 
 whom he had taken, by what right he infested the seas ? — 
 " By the same right," replied he, boldly, " that you enslave the 
 world. I am called a robber, because I have only one small 
 vessel ; — but you are styled a conqueror, because you command 
 great fleets and armies." 
 
 11. Francis I.* consulting with his Generals how to lead his 
 army over the Alps into Italy, — Amarel, his fool, sprung from 
 a corner, and advised him to consult rather, — how to bring it 
 back. 
 
 12. Men are too often ingenious in making themselves miser- 
 able, by aggravating, beyond bounds, the evils which they are 
 compelled to endure. " I will restore thy daughter again to 
 life," said an eastern sage to a prince who grieved immoderate- 
 ly for the loss of a beloved child, — " provided thou art able to 
 engrave on her tomb, the names of three persons who have 
 never mourned." The prince made inquiry after such persons ; 
 — but found the inquiry vain, — and was silent. 
 
 1.3. When Dariusf oflered Alexander ten thousand talents 
 to divide Asia equally with him, he answered, — " the earth 
 cannot bear two suns, — nor Asia two kings." Parmenio, a 
 friend of Alexander's, hearing the great ofier Darius had made, 
 said, — " were I Alexander, I would accept it," — " so -would I," 
 replied Alexander, " were I Parmenio." 
 
 14. When Agesilaus, king of Sparta, heard any one praised, 
 or censured, he remarked, " that it was as necessary to know 
 the characters of the speakers, as the characters of those who 
 were the subjects of their opinions." 
 
 15. AlcibiadesJ was one day boasting of his wealth and im- 
 mense estates in the presence of Socrates. This wise Athenian, 
 in order to repress his ostentatious spirit, led him to a map, and 
 desired him to point out Attica. After searching for some time, 
 Alcibiades, with some ditficulty, discerned it ; — Socrates then 
 requested him to look for his own estate ; — the young man 
 replied, that he should not be able to find it, in so small a space. 
 
 * Francis I., king of France in A. D. 1515. He is known as the opponent 
 and rival of Charles V., emperor of Germany, — also, as the patron of the 
 arts and sciences. He died 1547. 
 
 t Da-ri'-us III., the last king of the ancient Persian Empire. He waa 
 conquered by Alexander the Great, and at last treacherously assassinated 
 by Bessus, his own general, B. C. 331. 
 
 t Pronounced Al-se-bi'-a-dees, an illustrious Athenian General, and a 
 discipla of Socrates. He died B. C. 404, aged 46. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 175 
 
 "Why, then," replied Socrates, "are you so inflated with pride, 
 concerning a mere point of land /"' 
 
 16. No hero makes so distinguished a figure in ancient his- 
 tory as Alexander the Great.* His courage was undaunted, — 
 his ambition boundless, — his friendship ardent, — his taste re- 
 fined ; — and, what is very extraordinary, he appears to have 
 conversed with the same fire and spirit with which he fought 
 Philip, his father, knowing him to be very swift, wished him to 
 run for the prize at the Olympic Games. " I would comply 
 with your request," said Alexander, "if kinga Avere to be my 
 competitors." 
 
 17. L'Estrange,t in his Fables, tells us that a number of boys 
 were one day watching frogs at the side of a pond ; — and that, 
 as any of them put their heads above water, they pelted them 
 down again with stones. One of the frogs, appealing to the 
 humanity of the boys, made this striking observation; — " Chil- 
 dren, you do not consider, that though this may be sport to you, 
 it is death to us." 
 
 18. One day, when the moon was under an eclipse, she 
 complained tlius to the sun of the discontinuance of his favors : 
 " My dearest friend," said she, " why do you not shine upon 
 me as you used to do ?" "Do I not shine uJDon thee ?" said the 
 sun ; — " I am very sure I intend it." " Oh no !" replies the 
 moon, " but I now perceive the reason. I see that dirty planet, 
 the earth, has got between us." 
 
 19. To a man of an exalted mind, the forgiveness of injuries 
 is productive of more pleasure and satisfaction, than obtaining 
 vengeance. The emperor Adrian,:j: one day, seeing a person 
 who had injured him in his former station, thus addressed him : 
 — " You are safe ; — I am Emperor." 
 
 20. Cyrus, II when a boy, being at the court of his grandfather, 
 Astyages,^ engaged to perform the office of cup-bearer at table. 
 The duty of this officer, required him to taste the liquor before 
 
 * A king of Macedon. 
 
 t Pronouneed Le-Strange, an English gentleman, born 1616, and died 
 1705. 
 
 t Adrian, a Roman emperor, in A. D. 117. He; was distinguished for 
 his personal accomplishments and mental acquirements. He reigned pros- 
 perously 22 years, and died in the 63d year of his age. 
 
 II Cyrus the Great, king of Persia. He dethroned his grandfather, As- 
 tyages, established the Persian empire, took Babylon, liberated the Jews, — 
 and was at last killed in the battle against Tomyris, queen of the Massa- 
 getae, B. C. 530. 
 
 § Pronounced As-ti'-a-gees, a king of Media, 594 B. C. 
 
176 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 presenting it to the king. Cyrus, without performing this cere- 
 mony, delivered the cup in a very graceful manner to his grand- 
 father. The king observed the omission, which he imputed to 
 forgetfulness. No ! replied Cyrus, I purposely avoided tasting 
 it, — because I feared lest it should contain poison ; — for lately, 
 at an entertainment, I observed that the lords of your court, 
 after drinking it, became noisy, quarrelsome, and frantic. 
 
 21. A certain passenger at sea, had the curiosity to ask the 
 pilot of the vessel, what death his father died of. What death ! 
 said the pilot ; — why, he perished at sea, as my grandfather did 
 before him. And are you not afraid of trusting yourself to an 
 element that has proved thus fatal to your family ? Afraid ! by 
 no means. Is not your father dead ? Yes, — but he died in his 
 bed. And why then, returned the pilot, are you not afraid of 
 trusting yourself in your bed ? 
 
 22. Honor is unstable, and seldom the same ; — for she feeds 
 upon opinion, and is as fickle as her food. But virtue is uniform 
 and fixed, because, she looks for approbation only from him, 
 who is the same yesterday — to-day — and for ever. Honor feeds 
 us with air, and often pulls down our house to build our monu- 
 ment. She is contracted in her views ; and is buffeted by the 
 waves, and borne along by the whirlwind. But virtue is en- 
 larged, and infinite in her hopes, — and has an anchor sure and 
 stedfast, because it is cast in heaven. The noble Brutus* wor- 
 shipped honor, and in his zeal mistook her for virtue. In the 
 day of trial he found her, but — a shadow — and a name. 
 
 23. When thou docst good, do it because it is good ; — not 
 because men esteem it so. When thou avoidest evil, flee from 
 it because it is evil ; — not because men speak against it. Be 
 hornest for the love of honesty, and thou shaltbe uniformly so. 
 He that doeth it without principle is wavering. 
 
 24. A wise man endeavors to shine in himself; — a fool to 
 outshine others. The former is humbled by the sense of his 
 own infirmities ; — the latter is lifted up by the discovery of those 
 which he observes in others. The wise man considers what he 
 wants ; — and the fool, what he abounds in. The wise man is 
 happy when he gains his own approbation ; — and the fool, 
 when he recommends himself to the applause of those about 
 him. 
 
 2.5. It is pleasant to be virtuous and good, because that is to 
 excel many others ; — it is pleasant to grow better, because that 
 
 ♦ Marcus Brutus, a Roman General, engaged in the conspiracy against 
 Julius Cesar. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 177 
 
 is to excel ourselves ; — it is pleasant to mortify and subdue our 
 lusts, because that is victory ; — it is pleasant to command our 
 appetites and passions, and to keep them in due order, within 
 the bounds of reason and religion, — because — that is empire. 
 
 26. Homer* was the greater genius ; — Virgilf the better 
 artist. In the one, we most admire the man ; — in the other, 
 the work. Homer hurries us with a commanding impetuosity 
 —Virgil leads us with an attractive majesty. Homer scatters 
 with a generous profusion ; — Virgil bestows with a careful 
 magnificence. Homer, like the NiIe,J pours out his riches with 
 a sudden overflow ; — Virgil, like a river in its banks, with a 
 constant stream. And when we look upon their machines, 
 Homer seems, like his own Jupiter|| in his terrors, shaking 
 Olympus,^ — scattering the lightnings, — and firing the heavens ; 
 —-Virgil, like the same power in his benevolence, counselling 
 with the gods,— laying plans for empires, — and ordering his 
 whole creation. 
 
 LESSON LXXXVH. 
 
 Happiness is founded in rectitude of conduct. — Harris. 
 
 1. All men pursue good, and would be happy, if they knew 
 how ; not happy for minutes, and miserable for hours ; but 
 happy, if possible, through every part of their existence. — 
 Either, therefore, there is a good of this steady, durable kind, 
 or there is not. If not, then all good must be transient and 
 uncertain ; and if so, an object of the lowest value, which can 
 little deserve our attention or inquiry. 
 
 2. But if there be a better good, such a good as we are seek- 
 ing, like every other thing, it must be derived from some 
 cause ; and that cause must either be external, internal, or 
 mixed ; in as much as, except these three, there is no other 
 possible. Now, a steady, durable good, cannot be derived 
 from an external cause ; since all derived from externals must 
 fluctuate as they fluctuate. 
 
 3. By the same rule, it cannot be derived from a mixture of 
 the two ; because the part which is external, will proportiona- 
 bly destroy its essence. What then remains but the cause in- 
 ternal? the very cause which we have supposed, when we place 
 the sovereign good in mind, — in rectitude of conduct. 
 
 ♦ A Grecian poet. t A Latin poet. 
 
 t Nile, the great river of Egypt, which annually overflows its banbjs. 
 
 II Jupiter, the supreme deity among the Greeks and Romans. 
 
 { Olympus, a mountain in Greece. 
 
ITS NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON LXXXVIIL 
 
 Virtue and Piety Mart's highest Interest. — Harris. 
 
 1. I FIND myself existing upon a little spot, surrounded every 
 way by an immense, unknown expansion. — Where am I? 
 What sort of a place do I inhabit ? Is it exactly accommo- 
 dated in every instance to my convenience ? Is there no ex- 
 cess of cold, none of heat, to offend me ? Am I never annoyed 
 by animals either of my own, or a different kind ? Is every 
 thing subservient to me, as though I liad ordered all myself? 
 No — Jiothing like it — the farthest from it possible. 
 
 2. The world appears not, then, originally made for the pri- 
 vate convenience of me alone ? — It does not. But is it not pos- 
 sible so to accommodate it, by my own particular industry? 
 If to accommodate man and beast, heaven and earth, if this be 
 beyond me, it is not possible. What consequence then follows? 
 or can there be any other than this ! If I seek an interest of 
 my own detached from that of others, I seek an interest which 
 is chimerical, and which can never have existence. 
 
 3. How then must I determine ? Have I no interest at all? 
 If I have not, I am stationed here to no purpose. But why no 
 interest ? Can I be contented with none but one separate and 
 detached? Is a social interest, joined with others, such an 
 absurdity as not to be admitted ? The bee, the beaver, and the 
 tribes of herding animals, are sufficient to convince me, that 
 the thing is somewhere at least possible. 
 
 4. How, then, am I assured that it is not equally true of man ? 
 Admit it; and what follows? If so, then honor and justice 
 are my interest; then the whole train of moral virtues are my 
 interest ; without some portion of which, not even thieves can 
 maintain society. 
 
 5. But, farther still — I stop not here — I pursue this social 
 interest as far as I can trace my several relations. I pass from 
 my own stock, my own neighborhood, my own nation, to the 
 whole race of mankind, as dispersed throughout the earth. Am 
 I not related to them all, by the mutual aids of commerce, by 
 the general intercourse of arts and letters, by that common 
 nature of which we all participate ? 
 
 6. Again — I must have food and clothing. Without a pro- 
 per genial warmth, I instantly perish. Am I not related, 
 in this view, to the very earth itself ; to the distant sun, from 
 whose beams I derive vigor ? To that stupendous course and 
 order of the infinite host of heaven, by which the times and 
 seasons ever uniformly pass on ? 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 179 
 
 7. Were this order once confounded, I could hot probably 
 survive a moment ; so absolutely do I depend on this common 
 general welfare. What, then, have I to do, but to enlarge 
 virtue into piety ? Not only honor and justice, and what I owe 
 to man, is my interest ; but gratitude also, acquiescence, resig- 
 nation, adoration, and all I owe to this great polity, and its 
 great Governor, our common Parent 
 
 LESSON LXXXIX. 
 
 Importance of Virtue, — Price. 
 
 1. ViRxrE is of intrinsic value, and good desert, and of 
 indispensable obligation ; not the creature of will, but necessary 
 and immutable ; not local or temporary, but of equal extent 
 and antiquity with the Divine mind ; not a mode of sensation, 
 but everlasting truth ; not dependent on power, but the guide 
 of all power. 
 
 2. Virtue is the foundation of honor and esteem, and the 
 source of all beauty, order, and happiness, in nature. It is what 
 confers value on all the other endowments and qualities of a 
 reasonable being, to which they ought to be absolutely subser- 
 vient ; and without which, the more eminent they are, the more 
 hideous deformities, and the greater curses, they become. 
 
 3. The use of it is not confined to any one stage of our exist- 
 ence, or to any particular situation we can be in, but reaches 
 through all the periods and circumstances of our being. Many 
 of the endowments and talents we now possess, and of which 
 w e are too apt to be proud, will cease entirely with the present 
 state ; but this will be our ornament and dignity, in every iuture 
 state, to which we may be removed. 
 
 4. Beauty and wit will die, learning will vanish away, and 
 all the arts of life be soon forgot ; but virtue will remain forever. 
 This unites us to the whole rational creation ; and fits us for 
 conversing with any order of superior natures, and for a place 
 in any part of God's works. It procures us the approbation 
 and love of all wise and good beings, and renders them our 
 allies and friends. 
 
 5. But what is of unspeakable greater consequence, is, that 
 it makes God our friend, assimilates and unites our minds to 
 his, and engages his Almighty power in our defence. Superior 
 beings of all ranks are bound by it, no less than ourselves. — 
 It has the same authority in all worlds that it has in this. 
 
180 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 6. The further any being is advanced in excellence and per- 
 fection, the greater is his attachment to it, and the more he is 
 under its influence. To say no more, it is the law of the whole 
 universe, it stands first in the estimation of the Deity ; its 
 original is his nature, and it is the very object that makes him 
 lovely. 
 
 7. Such is the importance of virtue. — Of what consequence, 
 therefore, is it that we practise it ? There is no argument or 
 motive, in any respect fitted to influence a reasonable mind, 
 which does not call us to this. One virtuous disposition of soul 
 is preferable to the greatest natural accomplishments and abili- 
 ties, and of more value than all the treasures of the world. 
 
 8. If you are wise, then study virtue, and contemn every 
 thing that can come in competition with it. Remember that 
 nothing else deserves one anxious thought or wish. Remember - 
 that this alone is honor, glory, wealth, and happiness. Secure 
 this, and you secure every thing. Lose this, and all is lost 
 
 LESSON XC. 
 
 The Folly of Inconsistent Expectations. — Aikin. 
 
 1. This world may be considered as a great mart of com- 
 merce, where fortune exposes to our view various commodities; 
 riches, ease, tranquillity, fame, integrity, knowledge. Every 
 thing is marked at a settled price. Our time, our labor, our 
 ingenuity, is so much ready money, which we are to lay out to 
 the best advantage. 
 
 2. Examine, compare, choose, reject ; but stand to your own 
 judgment ; and do not, like children, when you have purchased 
 one thing, repine that you do not possess another, which you 
 did not pin-chase. Such is the force of well regulated industry, 
 that a steady and vigorous exertion of our faculties, directed to 
 one end, will generally insure success. 
 
 , 3. Would you, for instance, be rich ? Do you think that sin- 
 gle point worth the sacrifice of every thing else? You may then 
 be rich. Thousands have become so from the lowest begin- 
 nings, by toil, and patient diligence, and attention to the mi- 
 nutest articles of expense and profit. But you must give up 
 the pleasures of leisure, of a vacant mind, of a free unsuspi- 
 cious temper. 
 
 4. If you preserve your integrity, it must be a coarse-spun 
 and vulgar honesty. Those high and lofty notions of morals, 
 which you brought with you from the schools, must be consider- 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 181 
 
 ably lowered, and mixed with the baser alloy of a jealous and 
 worldly minded prudence. 
 
 5. You must learn to do hard, if not unjust things ; and as for 
 the nice embarrassments of a delicate and ingenuous spirit, it is 
 necessary for you to get rid of them as fast as possible. You 
 must shut your heart against the Muses, and be content to feed 
 your understanding with plain household truths. 
 
 6. In short, you must not attempt to enlarge your ideas, or 
 polish your taste, or refine your sentiments ; but must keep on 
 in one beaten track, without turning aside, either to the right 
 hand or to the left. — " But I cannot submit to drudgery like 
 this — I feel a spirit above it." It is well ; be above it then ; 
 only do not repine that you are not rich. 
 
 7. Is knowledge the pearl of price ? That, too, may be pur- 
 chased — by steady application, and long solitary hours of study 
 and reflection. — Bestow these, and you shall be learned. "But," 
 says the man of letters, " what a hardship it is, that many an 
 illiterate fellow, who cannot construe the motto of the arms on 
 his coach, shall raise a fortune and make a figure, while I hare 
 little more than the common conveniencies of life !" 
 
 8. Was it in order to raise a fortune, that you consumed the 
 sprightly hours of youth in study and retirement ? Was it to be 
 rich, that you grew pale over the midnight lamp, and distilled 
 the sweetness from the Greek and Roman spring ? You have 
 then mistaken your path, and ill employed your industry. 
 
 9. " What reward have I then for all my labors?" What 
 reward ! a large, comprehensive soul, well purged from vulgar 
 fears, and perturbations, and prejudices ; abie to comprehend 
 and interpret the works of man — of God. A rich, flourishing, 
 cultivated mind, pregnant with inexhaustible stores of entertain- 
 ment and reflection. A perpetual spring of fresh ideas, and the 
 conscious dignity of superior intelligence. Good Heaven ! and 
 what reward can you ask besides ? 
 
 10. "But is it not some reproach upon the Economy of Prov- 
 idence, that such a one, who is a mean, dirty fellow, should have 
 amassed wealth enough to buy half a nation !" Not in the least. 
 He made himself a mean dirty fellow for that very end. He 
 has paid his health, his conscience, his liberty, for it ; and will 
 you envy his bargain ? Will you hang your head and blush in 
 his presence, because he outshines you in equipage and show ? 
 
 11. Lift up your brow, with a noble confidence, and say to 
 yourself, " I have not these things, it is true ; but it is because 1 
 nave not sought, because I have not desired them ; it is because 
 
 16 
 
183 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 I possess sompthing better ; I have chosen my lot ; I am con- 
 tent and satisfied." 
 
 12. You are a modest man — you love quiet and independ- 
 ence, and have a delicacy and reserve in your temper, which 
 renders it im.possible for you to elbow your way in the world, 
 and be the herald of your own merits. Be content, then, with 
 a modest retirement, with the esteem of your intimate friends, 
 with the praises of a blameless heart, and a delicate, ingenuous 
 spirit ; but resign the splendid distinctions of the world to those 
 who can better scramble for thern. 
 
 13. The man whose tender sensibility of conscience and 
 strict regard to the rules of morality, makes him, scrupulous and 
 fearful of oftendino-, is often heard to complain of the disadvan- 
 tages under which he lies, in every path of honor and profit. — 
 " Could I but get over some nice points, and conform to the 
 practice and opinion of those about me, I mifrht stand as fair a 
 chance as others for dignities and preferment." 
 
 14. And why can you not ? \\ hat hinders you from discard- 
 ing this troublesome scrupulosity of yours v.'hich stand -so griev- 
 ously in your way? If it be a small thing to enjoy a healthful 
 mind, sound at the very core, that does not shrink from the 
 keenest inspection ; inward freedom from remorse and pertur- 
 bation ; unsullied whiteness and simplicity of manners ; if you 
 think these advantages an inadecjuate recompense for what you 
 resign, dismiss your scruyjles this histant, and be a slave mer- 
 chant, a director — or what you please. 
 
 LESSON XCL 
 
 On the Beauties of the Psalms. — Horne. 
 
 1. Greatness confers no exemption from the cares and sor- 
 rows of life : its share of them frequentlv hears a melancholy 
 proportion to its exaltation. This the monarch* of Israel 
 experienced. . He souirht in piety, that peace which he could 
 not find in empire: and alh^viated the discniietudes of state, 
 with the exercises of devotion. His invnluahle Psnhns convey 
 those comforts to others, which they aflbrded to himself. 
 
 2. Composed upon particular occasions, yet designed for 
 general use; delivered out as services fur L-^raelites under the 
 Law, yet no less adapted to the circunistances of Christians 
 under the Gospel ; they present relii^ion to us in the most 
 engaging dress ; communicating truths which philosophy could 
 
 * Kins David. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 183 
 
 nerer investigate, in a style which poetry can never equal ; 
 while history is made the vehicle of prophecy, and creation 
 lends all its charms to paint the glories of redemption. 
 
 3. Calculated alike to profit and to please, they inform the 
 understanding, elevate the affections, and entertain the imagi- 
 nation. Indited under the influence of him, to whom all hearts 
 are known, and all events foreknown, they suit mankind in all 
 situations ; grateful as the manna which descended from above, 
 and conformed itself to every palate. 
 
 4. The fairest productions of human wit, after a few perusals, 
 like gathered flowers, wither in our hands, and lose their fra- 
 grancy : but these unfading plants of Paradise become, as we 
 are accustomed to them, still more and more beautiful ; their 
 bloom appears to be daily heightened ; fresh odors are emitted, 
 and new sweets extracted from them. He who has once tasted 
 their excellencies, will desire to taste them again ; and he who 
 tastes them oftenest, ^vili relish them best. 
 
 5. And novr, could the author flatter himself, that any one 
 woiild take half the pleasure in reading his work, which he has 
 taken in writing it, he would not fear the loss of his labor. 
 The employment detached him from the bustle and hurry of 
 life, the din of politics, and the noise of folly. Vanity and 
 vexation flew away for a season : care and disquietude came 
 not near his dwelling. — He arose, fresh as the morning, to his 
 task ; the silence of the night invited him to pursue it ; and he 
 can truly say, that food and rest were not preferred before it. 
 
 6. Every psalm improved infinitely upon his acquaintance 
 with it, and no one gave him uneasiness but the last : for then 
 he grieved tliat his work was done. Happier hours than those 
 which have been spent in these meditations on the songs of 
 Sion, he never expects to see in this world. Very pleasantly 
 did they pass ; the}^ moved smoothly and swiftly along : for 
 when thus engaged, he counted no time. They are gone, but 
 they have left a relish and a fragrance upon the mind ; and the 
 Ipmembrance of them is sweet. 
 
 LESSON XCIL 
 
 Two Voices from the Grave, — Karamsin. 
 
 First Voice. 
 
 \, How frightful the grave ! how deserted and drear ! 
 With the ho wis of the storm- wind, — the creaks of the bier, 
 And the white bones all cluttering together ! 
 
184 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Second Voice. 
 
 2. How peaceful the grave ! its quiet how deep ! 
 Its zephyrs breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep, 
 
 And flowrets perfume it with ether. 
 
 First Voice, 
 
 3. There riots the blood-crested worm on the dead, 
 And the yellow skull serves the foul toad for a bed, 
 
 And snakes in its nettle weeds hiss. 
 
 Second Voice. 
 
 4. How lovely, how sweet the repose of the tomb ! 
 No tempests are there ; — but the nightingales come. 
 
 And sing their sweet chorus of bliss. 
 
 First Voice. 
 
 5. The ravens of night flap their wings o'er the grave ; 
 'Tis the vulture's abode ; — 'tis the wolfs dreary cave. 
 
 Where they tear up the dead with their fangs. 
 
 Second Voice. 
 
 6. There the cony,* at evening, disports with his love. 
 Or rests on the sod ; while the turtlesf above. 
 
 Repose on the bough that o'erhangs. 
 
 First Voice, 
 
 7. There darkness and dampness, with poisonous breath, 
 And loathsome decay, fill the dwelHng of death ; 
 
 The trees are all barren and bare. 
 
 Second Voice. 
 
 8. O ! soft are the breezes that play round the tomb. 
 And sweet with the violet's wafted perfume, 
 
 With lilies and jessamine fair. 
 
 First Voice. 
 
 9. The pilgrim who reaches this valley of tears, 
 Would fain hurry by ; and with trembling and fears. 
 
 He is launched on the wreck-covered river. 
 
 Second Voice. 
 
 10. Here the traveller, worn with life's pilgrimage dreary, 
 Lays down his rude stafl^, like one that is weary. 
 
 And sweetly reposes for ever. 
 
 ♦ Cony, a rabbit. t Turtles, turtle-doves. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 185 
 
 LESSON XCIIL 
 
 Tlie Battle of Linden * — Campbell. 
 
 \. On Linden, when the sun was low, 
 All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
 And dark as winter, was the flow 
 Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 
 
 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 array'd, 
 Each horseman drew his battle blade. 
 And furious every charger neigh'd, 
 
 To join the dreadful revelry. 
 
 4. Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n, 
 Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n, 
 And louder than the bolts of heaven, 
 
 Far flash'd the red artillery. 
 
 5. And redder yet those fires shall glow, 
 On Linden's hills of blood-stain'd 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, rolling dun, 
 Where 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 vvitli all thy chivalry ! 
 
 8. Few, 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. 
 
 ♦ Hohenlinden, a town in Austria, famous for the defeat of the Austri- 
 ans, December 3d, 1800, b}- the French under Moreau. 
 t Pronounced Mu'-nick, a city 20 miles west of Hohenlinden. 
 
 16* 
 
196 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON XCIV. 
 
 The Indian Chief. — Anonymous. 
 
 The following poem is founded on a traditionary story which is common in 
 
 the neighborhood of the Falls of Niagara. 
 
 1. The rain fell in torrents, the thunder roll'd deep, 
 And silenc'd the cataract's roar ; 
 But neither the night nor the tempest could keep 
 The warrior chieftain on shore. 
 
 3. The war shout has sounded, the stream must be cross'd ; 
 Why lingers the leader afar ! 
 *Twere better his life than his glory be lost ; 
 He never came late to the war. 
 
 3. He seiz'd a canoe as he sprang from the rock, 
 
 But fast as the shore fled his reach, 
 The mountain wave scem'd all his efforts to mock, 
 And dash'd the canoe on the beach. 
 
 4. " Great Spirit," he cried, " shall the batHe be given, 
 
 And all but their leader be there ? 
 May this struggle land me with them or in heaven !" 
 And he push'd with the strength of despair. 
 
 5. He has quitted the shore, he has gained the deep, 
 
 His guide is the lightning alone ; 
 But he felt not with fast, irresistible sweep. 
 The rapids were bearing him down. 
 
 6. But the cataract's roar with the thunder now vied ; 
 
 " O what is the meaning of this !" 
 He spoke, and just turn'd to the cataract's side, 
 As the lightning flash'd down the abyss. 
 
 7. All the might of his arm to one effort was given, 
 
 At self preservation's command ; 
 But the treacherous oar with the effort was riven. 
 And the fragment remain'd in his hand. 
 
 8. "Be it so," cry'd the warrior, taking his seat. 
 
 And folding his bow to his breast ; 
 " Let the cataract shroud my pale corse with its sheet, 
 And its roai' lull my spirit to rest. 
 
 0, "The prospect of death with the brave I have borne, 
 I shrink not to bear it alone ; 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 187 
 
 I have often fac'd death when the hope was forlorn, 
 But I shrink not to face hhn with none." 
 
 10. The thunder was hush'd, and the battle field stain'd, 
 When the sun met the war-wearied eye, 
 But no trace of the boat, or the chieftain remain' d — 
 Though his bow was still seen in the sky. 
 
 LESSON XCV. 
 
 The Burial of Sir John Moore* — Rev. C. Wolfe. 
 
 1. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
 
 As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 
 Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 
 O'er the grave where our Hero was buried. 
 
 2. We buried him darkly ; at dead of night. 
 
 The sods with our bayonets turning ; 
 By the struggling moon-beams' misty light, 
 And the lantern dimly burning. 
 
 3. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, 
 
 Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 
 But he lay — like a warrior taking his rest — 
 With his martial cloak around him ! 
 
 4. Few and short were the prayers we said. 
 
 And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; 
 But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 
 And we bitterly thought of the morrow — 
 
 5. We thought — as we hollowed his narrow bed, 
 
 And smoothed down his lonely pillow — 
 How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head. 
 And we far away on the billow ! 
 
 6. " Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
 
 And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
 But nothing he'll reck, if they let him sleep on ^ 
 
 In the grave where a Briton has laid him." 
 
 7. But half of our heavy task was done, 
 
 When the clock tolled the hour for retirino-, 
 
 ♦ A gallant British General, killed by the French in battle, at CoraniML 
 in Spain, Jan. 16th, 1809. 
 
188 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 And we heard the distant and random gun, 
 That the foe was suddenly firing — 
 
 8. Slov/ly and sacHy we laid him down, 
 
 From the field of his fame fresh and gory ! 
 We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
 But we left him — alone with his glory ! 
 
 LESSON XCVI. 
 
 Boadicea* — Cowper. 
 
 \. When the British warrior queen. 
 Bleeding from the Roman rods, 
 Sought, \nth an indignant mien, 
 Counsel of her country's gods, 
 
 2. Sage beneath the spreading oak 
 
 Sat the Druid, t hoary chief; 
 Ev'ry burning word he spoke 
 Full of rage, and full of grief. 
 
 3. "Princess ! if our aged eyes 
 
 Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, 
 'Tis because resentment ties 
 All the terrors of our tongues. 
 
 4. " Rome shall perish — write that word 
 
 In the blood that she has spilt ; 
 Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd. 
 Deep in ruin as in guilt. 
 
 5. " Rome, for empire far renovv^n'd. 
 
 Tramples on a thousand states ; 
 Soon her pride shall kiss the ground — 
 Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates! 
 
 6. " Other Romans shall arise, 
 
 Heedless of a soldier's name ; 
 Sounds, not arms, shall \\\n the prizCi 
 Harmony the path to fame. 
 
 7. " Then the progeny that springs 
 
 From the forests of our land, 
 
 * Boadicea was queen of the Iceni, in Britain, She was defeated and 
 conquered by the Romans, A. D. 59. 
 t A Priest of the ancient Britons. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 189 
 
 Arm'd with thunder, clad with wings, 
 Shall a wider world command. 
 
 8. " Regions Cesar* never knew 
 
 Thy posterity shall sway ; 
 Where his eagles never flew, 
 None invincible as they." 
 
 9. Such the bard's prophetic words. 
 
 Pregnant with celestial fire ; 
 Bending as he swept the chords 
 Of his sweet but awful lyre. 
 
 10. She, with all a monarch's pride, 
 
 Feh them in her bosom glow : 
 Rush'd to battle, fought and died ; 
 Dying, hurl'd them at the foe. 
 
 11. "Ruffians, pitiless as proud, 
 
 Heav'n awards the vengeance due : 
 Empire is on us bestow'd. 
 
 Shame and ruin wait for you. 
 
 LESSON XCVII. 
 
 Tlie Common Lot. — Montgomery. 
 • 
 
 1. Once in a flight of ages past. 
 
 There lived a man : — and who was he ? 
 — Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be cast, 
 That man resembled Thee. 
 
 2. Unknown the region of his birth ; 
 The land in which he died unknown ; 
 His name hath perish'd from the earth ; 
 This truth survives alone : — 
 
 3. That joy and grief, and hope and fear, 
 Alternate trimnph'd in his breast ; 
 His bliss and wo, — a smile, a tear ! 
 — Oblivion hides the rest. 
 
 4. The bounding pulse, the languid limb, 
 The changing spirits' rise and fall ; 
 
 ♦Julius Cesar, a Roman General. He was the first Roman that invaded 
 Britain, which he twice reduced to apparent subjection. He was assassi- 
 nated by conspirators, B. C. 43. 
 
190 NATIOINAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 We knoAV' that these were felt by him, 
 For these are felt by all. 
 
 5. He siiffer'd — but his pano-s are o'er ; 
 Enjoy' d — but his delights are fled ; 
 
 Had friends — his friends are now no more ; 
 And foes — his foes are dead. 
 
 6. He lov'd — but whom he lov'd, the grave 
 Hath lost in its unconscious womb : 
 
 O she was fair! — but nought could save 
 Her beauty from the tomb. 
 
 7. The rolling seasons, day and night, 
 
 Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, 
 Erewliile his portion, life and light, 
 To him exist in vain. 
 
 8. He saw whatever thnu hast seen ; 
 Encounter'd all that troubles thee; 
 He was — whatever thnu hast been ; 
 He is what thou shalt he. 
 
 9. The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye 
 That once their shades and glory threw. 
 Have left, in yonder silent sky. 
 
 No vestige where they flew. 
 
 10. The annals of the human race. 
 Their ruins, since tlie world began. 
 Of HIM aftbrd no other trace 
 Than this — there lived a man ! 
 
 LESSON XCVIII. 
 
 On the Irresolution of Youth. — Goldsmith. 
 
 1. The most usual way among young men, who have no 
 resolution of their own, is, first to ask one friend's advice, and 
 follow' it for some time ; then to ask advice of another, and turn 
 to that ; so of a third ; still unsteady, always changing. How- 
 ever, everv chancre of tliis nature is for the worse. 
 
 2. People may tell you of your being unfit for some peculiar 
 occupations in life ; but heed them not ; whatever employment 
 you follow^ with perseverance and assiduity, will be found fit 
 for you ; it will be your support in youth, and comfort in age. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 191 
 
 3. In learning the useful part of every profession, very mod- 
 erate abilities will suffice : great abilities are generally obnox- 
 ious to the possessor. Life lias been compared to a race ; 
 but the allusion still improves, by observing-, that the most 
 swift are ever the most apt to stray from the course. 
 
 4. To know one profession only, is enough fcr v>iie man to 
 know ; and this, whatever the professors may tell you to the 
 contrary, is soon learned. Be contented, therefore, with one 
 good employment ; for if you understand two at a time, people 
 will give you no business ijj either. 
 
 5. A conjurer and a tailor once hapened to converse togeth- 
 er. " Alas !" cries the tailor, " what an unhappy poor creature 
 am I ! If people ever take into their heads to live without clothes, 
 I am undone ; I have no other trade to have recourse to." — 
 " Indeed, friend, I pity you sincerely," replies the conjurer ; 
 " but, thank Heaven, things are not o^uite so bad with me ; 
 for, if one trick should fail, I have a hundred tricks more for 
 them yet. However, if at any time you are reduced to beg- 
 gary, apply to me, and I will relieve you." 
 
 6. A famine overspread the land ; the tailor made a shift to 
 live, because his customers could not be Avithout clothes ; but 
 the poor conjurer, with all his hundred tricks, could find none 
 that had money to throw away ; it was in vain that he promised 
 to eat fire, or to vomit pins ; no single creature would relieve 
 him, till he was at last obliged to beg from the very tailor whose 
 calling he had formerly despised. 
 
 7. There are no obstructions more fatal to fortune than pride 
 and resentment. If you must resent injuries at all, at least sup- 
 press your indignation till you become rich, and then show 
 away. The resentment of a poor man is like the efforts of a 
 harmless insect to sting; it may get him crushed, but cannot 
 defend him. Who values that anger which is consumed only 
 in empty menaces ? 
 
 8. Once upon a time, a goose fed its young by a pond side ; 
 and a goose, in such circumstances, is always extreniely proud, 
 and excessively punctilious. If any other animal, without the 
 least design to offend, happened to pass that way, the goose 
 was immediately at it. "The pond," she said, " was her's, and 
 she would maintain her right in it, and support her honor, while 
 she had a bill to hiss, or a wing to flutter." 
 
 9. In this manner she drove away ducks, pigs, and chickens; 
 nay, even the insidious cat was seen to scream. A lounging 
 mastiff, however, happened to pass by, and thought it no harm 
 
193 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 if he should lap a little of the water, as he was thirsty. The 
 guardian goose flew at him like a fury, pecked at him with her 
 beak, and flapped him with her wings. 
 
 10. The dog grew angry, and had twenty times a mind to 
 give her a sly snap, but suppressing his indignation, because 
 his master was nigh, "A pox take thee," cried he, "for a fool; 
 sure those who have neither strength nor weapons to fight, at 
 least, should be civil." So saying, he went forward to the 
 pond, quenched his thirst in spite of the goose, and followed 
 his master. 
 
 11. Another obstruction to the fortune of youth is, that Avhile 
 they are willing to take offence from none, they are also equally 
 desirous of giving nobody offence. From hence they endeavor 
 to please all, comply with every request, and attempt to suit 
 themselves to every company; have no will of their own; but, 
 like wax, catch every contiguous impression. By thus attempt- 
 ing to give universal satisfaction, they at last find themselves 
 miserably disappointed. To bring the generality of admirers 
 on our side, it is sufficient to attempt pleasing a very few. 
 
 12. A painter of eminence was once resolved to finish a 
 piece which should please the whole world. When, therefore, 
 he had drawn a picture in which his utmost skill was exhausted. 
 It was exposed in the public market place, with directions at 
 the bottom for every spectator to mark, with a brush that lay 
 by, every limb and feature that seemed erroneous. 
 
 13. The spectators came, and in general applauded: but 
 each, willing to show his talent at criticism, stigmatized what- 
 ever he thought proper. At evening, when the painter came, 
 he was mortified to find the picture one universal blot; not a 
 single stroke that had not the marks of disapprobation. 
 
 14. Not satisfied with this trial, the next day he was resolved 
 to try them in a different manner; and exposing his picture as 
 before, desired that every spectator would mark those beauties 
 he approved or admired. 
 
 15. The people complied; and the artist returning, found 
 his picture covered with the marks of beauty; every stroke 
 that had yesterday been condemned, now received the charac- 
 ter of approbation. " Well," cries the painter, " I now find, 
 that the best way to please all the world, is to attempt pleasing 
 one half of it." 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 193 
 
 LESSON XCIX. 
 
 The Hero and the Sage, — Anonymous. 
 
 \. A WARRIOR,* who had been the successful commander of 
 armies, on boasting of the thousands he had slain in the field, 
 or cut off by stratagem, roused the indignant but humane feel^ 
 ings of a Sage, who unawed by military prowess, thus rebuked 
 the insolence of his triumph : "You seem to exult. Sir, in the 
 destruction of your kind, and to recapitulate with satisfaction 
 the numbers you have deprived of life, or rendered miserable. 
 As a man, I blush for you ; as a philosopher, I pity you ; as a 
 christian, I despise you." 
 
 2. The hero reddened with wrath : he frowned with eon- 
 tempt; but he did not yet open his lips. "I am patriot enough," 
 continued the Sage, " to wish well to the arms of my country. 
 I honor her valiant sons who support her glory and independ- 
 ence, and who risk their lives in her defence ; but however 
 meritorious this may be, in a just cause, the truly brave will 
 lament the cruel necessity they are under of sacrificing their 
 fellow-men ; and the generous will rather commiserate than 
 triumph. 
 
 3. "I never read of a battle, of the destruction of thousands 
 and tens of thousands, but I involuntarily enter into calculations 
 on the extent of misery which then ensues. The victims of the 
 sword are, perhaps, least the objects of pity ; thev have fallen 
 by an iastant death, and are removed from the consciousness 
 of the woes they have left behind. I extend my views to their 
 surviving" relatives and friends. I bewail the lacerated ties of 
 nature. I sympathize with the widow and the orphan. My 
 heart bleeds for parental agonies. I depict the warm vows of 
 a genuine affeciion for ever lost; the silent throb of exquisite 
 anguish; the tear which perhaps is forbidden to flow; and, 
 from such a contemplation, I turn away with a sensibility that 
 represses exultation for victory, hov^ever briiiiaiit, and for suc- 
 cess, however complete." 
 
 4. The warrior clapped his hand on his sword ; he looked 
 with indignation, but still was mute. The Sage went on. " I 
 almost forget the name of enemy, when I reflect on the misery 
 of man. The malignant passions that excite hostilities, between 
 nations or individuals, seldom return on the ao-gressor's heads. 
 Were this the case, moral justice would be satisfied, and reason 
 would have less to censure or lament. But when the innocent 
 
 * Pronounced war'-yur, 
 17 
 
194 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 suffer for the guilty, who can think without concern, or with- 
 hold commiseration, though fell necessity may sanction the de- 
 vastations of war." 
 
 5. " Do you mean to insult me, Sir ?" sternly demanded the 
 Hero. " This canting hypocritical affectation of sentiment I will 
 not brook. But you are too insignificant for my resentment." 
 *' I confess my insignificance," rejoined the 8age, " my actions 
 have never been blazoned in gazettes ; yet I have neither been 
 idle nor uselessly employed. As far as my abilities would allow, 
 I have endeavored to make mankind wiser and better. If I 
 have failed to increase the stock of human happiness, my heart 
 does not accuse me of diminishing its suppHes. Few have an 
 opportunity of doing much good ; but the most insignificant 
 and contemptible are qualified to do harm." 
 
 6. Here the Hero and the Sage parted ; neither was able to 
 convince the other of the importance of his services; the for- 
 mer ordered his coach, and was gazed at with admiration by 
 the unthinking mob ; the latter retired to his garret, and was 
 forgotten. 
 
 LESSON C. 
 
 The Blind Preacher. — Wirt. 
 
 L I HAVE been, my dear S , on an excursion through the 
 
 countries which lie along the eastern side of the Bhie Ridge ;* 
 a general description of that country and its inhabitants, may 
 form the subject of a future letter. For the present, I must 
 entertain you with an account of a most sino;ular and interesting 
 adventure, which I met with in the course of my tour. 
 
 2. It was one Sabbath, as I travelled througli the county of 
 Orange, that my eye was caught by a cluster oihorses tied near 
 an old, ruinous, wooden house, in the forest, and not far from 
 the road si(]e. Having frequently seen such objects before, in 
 travelling through these states, I had no difficulty in understand- 
 ing that this was a place of religious worship. Devotion, alone^ 
 should have stopped me to join in the duties of the congregation, 
 but I must confess that curiosity to hear the preacher of such a 
 wilderness was not tlie least of my motives. 
 
 3. On entering the house, I was struck with his preternatural 
 appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man ; his head, 
 which was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, 
 
 ♦ A ridge of mountains in Virginia, east of the Alleghany range. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 195 
 
 and his voice, were all shaking under the influence of a palsy ; 
 and a few moments convinced me that he was blind. The first 
 emotions which touched my breast, were those of mingled pity 
 and A'^eneration. 
 
 4. But ah ! how soon were all my feelings, changed ! It was 
 a day of the administration of the sacrament, and his subject, 
 of course, was the passion of our Saviour. I had heard the 
 subject handled a thousand times. I had supposed it exhausted 
 long ago. Little did I expect that in the Avild woods of America 
 [ was to meet with a man whose eloquence would give to this 
 topic a new and more sublime pathos, than I had ever before 
 witnessed. 
 
 5. As he descended from the pulpit, to distribute the mystic 
 symbols, there Avas a peculiar, a more than human solemnity in 
 his air and manner, which made my blood to run cold, and my 
 whole frame to shiver. He then drew a picture of the sufferings 
 of our Saviour; — his trial before Pilate ; — his ascent up Calva- 
 ry ; — his crucifixion, — and his death. I kneiD the whole his- 
 tory ; but never, until then, had I heard the circumstances so 
 selected, so arranged, so colored ! It was all new, and I seemed 
 to have heard it for the fii^st time in my life. His enunciation 
 was so deliberate, that his voice trembled on every syllable ; 
 nnd every heart in the assembly trembled in unison. 
 
 6. His peculiar phrases, had such a force of description, that 
 ihe original scene appeared, at that moment, acting before our 
 eyes. We saw the very faces of the Jews, — the starting, fright- 
 ful distortions of malice and rage. We saw the buffet; — my 
 soul kindled with a flame of indignation, and my hands were 
 involuntarily and convulsively clenched. 
 
 7. But when he came to touch the patience, the forgiving 
 meekness o{ our Saviour, — when he drew, to the life, his blessed 
 eyes streaming in tears to heaven — his voice breathing to God, 
 
 i'asoft and genlle prayer of pardon on his enemies : " Father, 
 forgive them, for they know not what they do," — the voice of 
 the^prencher, which had all along faultered, grew fainter and 
 fainter, until his utterance became entirely obscured by the 
 force of his feelings; he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and 
 burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of tears. The effect 
 was inconceivable. The whole house resounded with the min- 
 gled groans, and sobs, and shrieks of the congregation. 
 
 8. It was some time before the tumult had subsided, so as to 
 permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual, but fal- 
 lacious standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy 
 for the situation of the preacher. For I could Hot conceive how 
 
196 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 he would be able to let his audience down from the height* to 
 which he had wound them, without impairing the dignity and 
 solemnity of his subject, or, perhaps, shock them by the abrupt- 
 ness of the fall. 
 
 9. But — no : the descent was as beautiful and sublime, as 
 the elevation had been rapid and enthusiastic. The first sen- 
 tence which broke the awful silence, was a quotation from 
 Rousseau:! ^^ Socrates died like ?i philosopher , h-ai Jesus Christy 
 like a God ! /" Whatever I had been able to conceive of the 
 sublimity of Massilon,| or the force of Bourdaloue,|| had fallen 
 far short of the power which I felt from the delivery of this 
 simple sentence. 
 
 10. The blood, which, just before had rushed in a hurricane 
 upon my brain, and, in the violence and agony of my feelings, 
 had held my whole system in susj)ense; now ran back into mv 
 heart, with a sensation which I cannot describe ; a kind of 
 shuddering delicious horror! The paroxysm of mingled pity 
 and indignation to which I had been transported, subsided into 
 the deepest self-abasement, humility, and sympathy for our 
 Saviour, as a fellow creature: — but now, with fear and trem- 
 bhng, I adored him as " a God ! /" 
 
 LESSON CI. 
 Specimen of Welch Preachina;. — London Jewish Exposi- 
 
 tor. 
 
 1. At a meeting of ministers at Bristol,^ the Reverend Mr. 
 invited several of his brethren to siij) v>ithhini ; among 
 
 them was the minister officiating at the Welch meeting-house in 
 that city. Me was an entire stranger to all the company, and 
 silently attentive to the general conversation of his brethren. 
 
 2. The subject on which they were discoursing, was the dif-^ 
 ferent strains of public preaching. When several had given 
 their opinions, and had mentioned some individuals who were 
 good preachers, and^such as were models as to style and com- 
 position, (fee, Mr. L turned to the Welch stranger and 
 
 solicited his opinion. 
 
 * Pronounced hi to. 
 
 t John James Rousseau, a celebrated philosopher, bom in Geneva, in 
 Switzerland, A. U 1711. 
 
 t A famous French preacher, born in A. D. 1663. 
 
 II A distinguished French preacher, born in A. D. 1632. 
 
 § A city in the western part of England, situated on the river Avon. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 197 
 
 3. He said he fell it to be a privileo e to be silent when such 
 men were discoursing: but that he felt it a duty to comply with 
 this request ; " but," said he, " if I must give my opinion, I 
 should say you had no good preachers in England." "No !" 
 said Ml-. L. " No," said he, " that is, I mean, no such preach- 
 ers as we have in the principality." 
 
 4. " I know," said Mr. L., " you are famous for jumping in 
 Wales, but that is owing, I suppose, as much to the strain of 
 preaching which the people hear, as to the enthusiasm of their 
 characters." "Indeed," said the Welchman, "you would 
 jump too, if you heard and understood such preaching." 
 
 5. " Why," said Mr. L., " do you not think I could make 
 them jump, if I were to preach to them ?" " You make them 
 jump!" exclaimed the Welchman, " you make them jump ! a 
 Welchman would set tire to the world, while you were lighting 
 your match." 
 
 6. The whole company became very much interested in this 
 new turn of the subject, and unanimously requested the good 
 man to give them some specimen of the style and manner of 
 preaching in the principality. 
 
 7. " Specimen," said he, " I cannot give you ; if John Elias 
 was here, he would give you a specimen indeed. Oh ! John 
 Elias is an excellent preacher." Well, said the company, give 
 us something that you have heard from him. 
 
 8. "Oh, no !" said he, " I cannot do ju^tir-e to it; besides, 
 do you understand the Welch language ?" They said no, not 
 so as to follovi' a discourse. "Then." said he, "it is impossible 
 for ye to understand, if I were to give you a specimen." 
 
 9. But, said they, cannot you put it into English ? " Oh !" 
 said he, "your poor nicagrc language would spoil it; it is not 
 capable of expressing those ideas which a Welchman can con- 
 ceive ; I cannot give you a specimen in English without spoil- 
 ing it." 
 
 10. The interest of the company was increased, and nothing 
 would do but sometliinof of a specin(en, while they promised to 
 make every alljwance for the lanjxuao^e. 
 
 11. " V/eli," said the Welchman, " if you must have apiece, 
 I must try ; but I don't know what to give you ; I do not recol- 
 lect a piece of John Elias ; he is our best preacher. I must 
 think a little ; — well, I recollect a piece of Christmas Evans. 
 
 12. " Christmas Evans was a good preacher, and I heard 
 him a little time ago, at an association of ministers. He was 
 preaching on the depravity of man by sin ; of his recovery by 
 the death of Christ, and he said — ' Brethren, if I were to pre- 
 
 17* 
 
198 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 sent to you, in a figure, the condition of man as a sinner, and 
 the means of his recovery by the cross of Jesus Christ, I should 
 present somewhat in this way. 
 
 13. ' " Suppose a large grave-yard, surrounded by a high wall, 
 with only one entrance, which is by a large iron gate, which is 
 fast bolted; within these wails are thousands and tens of thou- 
 sands of human beings, of all ages and of all classes, by one 
 epidemic disease bending to the grave ; the grave yawns to 
 receive them, and they mustall die ; there is no balm to relieve 
 them, no physician there — they must perish. 
 
 14. " ' This is the condition of man as a sinner — all, all have 
 sinned, and the soul that sinneth it shall die. While man was 
 in this deplorable state, Mercy, the darling attribute of Deity, 
 came down and stood at the gate, looking at the scene, and 
 wept over it, exclaiming, oh, that I might enter, I would bind 
 up their wounds, I would relieve their sorrows — I would save 
 their souls. 
 
 15. " 'While Mercy stood weeping at the gate, an embassy 
 of angels, commissioned from the court of Heaven to another 
 worlc[, passing over, paused at the sight — and Heaven forgave 
 that pause — andseeingMcrcystandingthere, they cried, Mercy, 
 Mercy, can you not enter ? Can you look upon this scene and 
 not pity ? Can you pity and not relieve ? Mercy replied, I can 
 see, and in her tears added, I can pity, but I cannot relieve. 
 
 16. "' Why can you not enter? Oli, said Mercy, Justice has 
 barred the gate against me, and I cannot, must not unbar it. 
 At this moment. Justice hiniself a]»i)cared, as if it were to watch 
 the gate. The angels inquired of him, why will you not lei 
 Mercy in ? Justice replied, my law is broken, and it must be 
 honored : die they, or Justice must. 
 
 17. "'At this, there appeared a form among the angelic band, 
 like unto the Son of God, who, addressing himself to Justice, 
 said, what are thy demands ? Justice replied, my terms are 
 stern and rigid ; I must have sickness for their health, I must 
 have ignominy for their honor, I must have death for life. — 
 Without shedding of blood there is no remission. 
 
 18. " ' Justice, said the Son of God, I accept thy terms ; on 
 me be this wrong, and let Mercy enter. When, said Justice, 
 will you perform this promise ? Jesus replied, four thousand 
 years hence, u})on the hill of Calvary, without the gates of 
 Jerusalem, I will perform it in my own person. 
 
 19. " ' The deed was prepared and signed in the presence of 
 the Angels of God, Justice was satisfied, and Mercy entered, 
 preaching salvation in the name of Jesus ; the deed wa? couv 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 190 
 
 mitted to the Patriarchs, by them to the Kings of Israel and the 
 Prophets; bv them it was preserved till Daniel's seventy weeks 
 were accomplished; then, at the appointed time, Justice ap- 
 peared on the hill of Calvary, and Mercy presented to him the 
 important deed. 
 
 20. " ' Where,' said Justice, ' is the Son of God?' Mercy an- 
 swered, behold him at the bottom of the hill, bearing his own 
 cross ; and then he departed and stood aloof, at the hour of trial. 
 Jesus ascended the hill, while in his train followed his weeping 
 church. 
 
 21. "Justice immediately presented him the deed, saying, 
 this is the day when this bond is to be executed. When he 
 received it, did he tear it in pieces and give it to the winds 
 of heaven? No, he nailed it to the cross, exclaiming, It is 
 finished. 
 
 22. " Justice called on holy fire to come down and consume 
 the sacrifice. Holy fire descended, it swallowed his humanity, 
 but M^hen it touched his Deity it expired — and there was dark- 
 ness over the whole heavens : but ' Glory to God in the highest, 
 on earth peace, good will to men.' " — This, said the Welchman, 
 is but a specimen of Christmas Evans. 
 
 LESSON CII. 
 
 Happiness. — Lacon. 
 
 1. What is earthly happiness ? that phantom of which we 
 hear so much, and see so little ? whose promises are constantly 
 given and constantly broken, but as constantly believed? that 
 cheats us w^ith the sound instead of the substance, and with the 
 blossom instead of the fruit ? 
 
 2. Like Juno,* she is a goddess in pursuit, but a cloud in 
 possession ; deified by those who cannot enjoy her, and despis- 
 ed by those who can. Anticipation is her herald, but Disap- 
 pointment is her companion; the first addresses itself to our 
 imagination, that would believe, but the latter to our experience 
 that must. 
 
 3. Happiness, that grand mistress of the ceremonies in the 
 dance of life, impels us through all its mazes and meanderings, 
 but leads none of us by the same route. Aristippusf pursued 
 her in pleasure, Socratesf in wisdom, and Epicurusf in both ; 
 she rc'ceived the attentions of eacli, but bestowed her endear- 
 
 * A heathen goddess. t A Grecian philosopher. 
 
200 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 ments on neither ; although, like some other gallants, they all 
 boasted of more favours than they had received. 
 
 4. Warned by their failure, the stoic* adopted a most para- 
 doxical mode of preferring his suit; he thought, by slandering, 
 to woo her; by shunning, to win her; and proudly presumed, 
 that by fleeing her, she would turn and follow him. 
 
 5. She is deceitful as the cahn that precedes the hurricane ; 
 smooth as the water on the verge of the cataract; and beautiful 
 as the rainbow, that smiling daughter of the storm ; but, like 
 the miraget in the desert, she tantalizes us with a delusion that 
 distance creates, and that contiguity destroys. 
 
 6. Yet, when unsought, she is often found, and when unex- 
 pected, often obtained ; while those who seek for her the 
 most diligently, fail the most, because they seek her where she 
 is not. 
 
 7. Antony:j: sought her in love ; Brutus^ in glory ; Cesar| 
 in dominion: the first found disgrace, — the second disgust, — 
 the last inofratitude, — and each destnirtion. To some she is 
 more kind, but not less cruel ; she hands them her cup, and 
 they drink even to stupefaction, until they doubt whether they 
 are men with Philip, Ij or dream that they are gods with 
 AIexandcr.il 
 
 8. On some she smiles as on Napoleon, 6 with an aspect 
 more bewitching than an Italian snn ; but it is only to make 
 lier frown the more terrible, and by one short caress to embitter 
 the pangs of separation. Yet is she, by universal homage and 
 consent, a queen ; and the passions are the vassal lords that 
 crowd her court, await her mandate, and move at her control. 
 
 9. But, like other mighty sovereigns, she is so surrounded 
 by her envoys, her officer'?, and her ministers of state, that it is 
 extremely diflicult to be admitted to her presence-chamber, or 
 to have any immediate commimieation with herself. Ambition, 
 Avarice, Love, Revenge, all these seek her, and her alone ; 
 alas ! they are neither presented to her, nor will she come to 
 them. 
 
 10. She despatches, however, her envoys unto them — mean 
 and poor representatives of their queen. To Ambition, she 
 
 * Stoics, a st't of heatlu'ii philosopliers, who prided themselves in an 
 affected indi. 'Terence to pleisure or pi.in. 
 
 t A curious phenomenon, supposed to result from an inverted ima^e of 
 the sky iutorinixed with the ground scenery. They are seen principally in 
 the African deserts. 
 
 t A Roman Cleneral. 
 
 U A kinjr of Maccdon. 
 
 S Napoleon Bonaparte, emperor of France in 1804. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 201 
 
 sends power; to Avarice, wealth; to Love, jealousy; to Re- 
 venge, remorse ; alas ! what are these, but so many other 
 names for vexation or disappointment. 
 
 n. Neither is she to be won by flatteries or by bribes; she 
 is to be gained by waging war against her ene7}iies,m.uch. sooner 
 than by paying any particular court to herself. Those that 
 conquer her adversaries, will find that they need not go to her, 
 for she will come unto them. 
 
 12. None bid so high for her as kings; few are more willing, 
 none more able, to purchase her alliance at the fullest price. 
 But she has no more respect for kings than for their subjects; 
 she mocks them indeed with the empty show of a visit, by 
 sending to their palaces all her equipage, her pomp, and her 
 train, but she comes not herself. What detains her? She is 
 travelling incognita* to keep a private assignation with Content- 
 ment, and to partake of a tete-a-tete] and a dinner of herbs in 
 a cottage. 
 
 13. Hear then, mighty queen ! what sovereigns seldom hear, 
 the words of soberness and truth. 1 neitlier despise thee too 
 little, nor desire thee too much ; for thou wieldest an earthly 
 sceptre, and thy gifts cannot exceed thy dominion. Like other 
 potentates, thou also art a creature of circumstance, and an 
 ephemerip| of Time. 
 
 14. Like other potentates, thou also, when stripped of thy 
 auxiliaries, art no longer competent even to thine own subsist- 
 ence; nay, thou canst not even stand by thyself. Unsupported 
 by Content on the one hand, and by Ileaith on the other, thou 
 fallest an unwieldy ajid bloated pageant to the ground. 
 
 ^ LESSON cm. 
 
 William Tcll.l — Knowles. 
 Gesleb, the tyrant — Sarnem, his officer — and Wm. Trt-l, a Swiss peasant. 
 
 Sar. Down, slave, upon thy knees before the governor. 
 And beg for mercy. 
 
 Ges. Does he hear ? 
 
 Sar. He does, but braves thy power. [To TclT\ Down, slave, 
 And ask for life. 
 
 * In diaguiso, or in private. 
 
 t Tete-a-tute, face to face, or a private conversation. 
 
 % Ephemeris, a daily journal. 
 
 y William I'ell, an illustrious Swiss patriot, and one of the heroes who 
 restored liberty to tlieir oppressed country, in 1307. tlcnnan Gesler, the 
 Austrian governor, suspecting that a conspiracy was formed against him, and 
 
302 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Ges. [To Tell] Why speakest thou not? 
 
 Tell. For wonder. 
 
 Ges. Wonder? 
 
 Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man. 
 
 Ges. What should I seem ? 
 
 Tell. A monster. 
 
 Ges. Ha ! Beware ! — think on thy chains. 
 
 Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down 
 Prostrate to earth, methinks I could rise up 
 Erect, with nothing but the honest pride 
 Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth, 
 Thou art a monster. — Think on my chains ! 
 How came they on me ? 
 
 Ges. Darest thou question me ? 
 
 Tell. Darest thou answer ? 
 
 Ges. Beware my vengeance. 
 
 Tell. Can it more than kill ? 
 
 Ges. And is not that enough : — 
 
 Tell. No, not enough : — 
 It cannot take away the grace of life — 
 The comeliness of look that virtue gives — 
 Its port erect with consciousness of truth — 
 Its rich attire of honorable deeds — 
 Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues :^ 
 It cannot lay its hand on these, no more 
 Than it can pluck his brightness from the sun, 
 Or with polluted finger tarnish it. 
 
 Ges. But it can make thee writhe. 
 
 Tell. It may, and I may say, 
 Go on, though it should make me groan again. # 
 
 Ges. Whence comest thou ? 
 
 Tell. From the mountains. 
 
 Ges. Canst tell me any news from them ? 
 
 Tell. Ay ; — they watch no more the avalanche.* 
 
 Ges. Why so ? 
 
 wishing to ascertain the spirit of the people, ordered his hat to be raised on 
 a pole, and homage to be paid to it as to himself. Tell refused to do homage 
 to the hat, and was immediately seized and carried before the governor, 
 Gesler ordered him to shoot an armw at an apple placed on the head of his 
 own son, or else be dragged with his child to immediate death. He shot 
 the apple off his son's nead, — and soon after shot Gesler. The Swiss, 
 roused to arms by the conduct of Tell, drove away their Austrian masters, 
 and established the independence of their country, A. D. 1307. 
 
 ♦ Pronounced av-a-lanch', a vast body of snow sliding down a mountain. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 203 
 
 Tell, Because they look for thee. The hurricane 
 Comes unawares upon them ; from its bed 
 The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track. 
 
 Ges. What then ? 
 
 Tell. They thank kind Providence it is not thou. 
 Thou hast perverted nature in them. The earth 
 Presents her fruits to them, and is not thanked. 
 The harvest sun is constant, and they scarce 
 Return his smile. Their flocks and herds increase, 
 And they look on as men who count a loss. 
 There's not a blessing Heaven vouchsafes them, but 
 The thought of thee doth wither to a curse. 
 As something they must lose, and had far better 
 Lack. 
 
 Ges. 'Tis well. I'd have them as their hills 
 That never smile, though wanton summer tempt 
 Them e'er so much. 
 
 Tell. But they do sometimes smile. 
 
 Ges. Ah ! — when is that ? 
 
 Tell. When they do pray for vengeance. 
 
 Ges. Dar-e they pray for that ? 
 
 Tell. They dare, and they expect it, too. 
 
 Ges. From whence ? 
 
 Tell. From Heaven, and their true hearts. 
 
 Ges. [To Sarnem.^ Lead in his son. Now will I take 
 Exquisite vengeance. [ To Tell, as the boy enters.] I have des- 
 tined him 
 To die along with thee. 
 
 Tell. To die ! for what ? he's but a child. 
 
 Ges. He's thine, however. 
 
 Tell. He is an only child. 
 
 Ges. So much the easier to crush the race. 
 
 Tell. He may have a mother. 
 
 Ges. So the viper hath — 
 And yet who spares it for the mother's sake ? 
 
 Tell. I talk to stone. I'll talk to it no more. 
 Ceme, my boy, I taught thee how to live, — 
 I'll teach thee, — how to die. 
 
 Ges. But first, I'd see thee make 
 A trial of thy skill with that same bow. 
 Thy arrows never miss, 'tis said. 
 
 Tell. What is the trial ? 
 
 Ges. Thou look'st upon thy boy as though thou guess«st it. 
 
 Tell. Look upon my boy ! what mea.i you ? 
 
204 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Look upon my boy as though I guessed it ! — 
 Guessed the trial thoud'st have me make ! — 
 Guessed it instinctively ! Thou dost not mean — 
 No, no — Thou wouldst not have me make 
 A trial of my skill upon my child ! 
 Impossible ! I do not guess thy meaning. 
 
 Ges. I'd see thee hit an apple on his head, 
 Three hundred paces off. 
 
 Tell. Great Heaven ! 
 
 Ges. On this condition only will I spare 
 His life and thine. 
 
 Tell. Ferocious monster ! make a father 
 Murder his own child ! 
 
 Ges. Dost thou consent ? 
 
 Tell. With his own hand ! — 
 The hand I've led him when an infant by ! 
 My hands are free from blood, and have no gust 
 For it, that they should drink my child's. 
 I'll not murder my boy, for Gesler. 
 
 Boy. You will not hit me, father. You'll be sure 
 To hit the apple. Will you not save me, father ? 
 
 Tell. Lead me forth — I'll make the trial. 
 
 Boy. Father 
 
 Tell. Speak not to me ; — 
 Let me not hear thy voice — Thou must be dumb; 
 And so should all things be — Earth should be dumb, 
 And Heaven, unless its thunder muttered at 
 The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it. — 
 Give me my bow and quiver. 
 
 Ges. When all is ready. Sarnem, measure hence 
 The distance — three hundred paces. 
 
 Tell. Will he do it fairly ? 
 
 Ges. What is't to thee, fairly or not. 
 
 Tell, [sarcastically.] O, nothing, a little thing, 
 A very little thing ; 1 only shoot 
 At my child ! 
 
 [Sarnem prepares to measured] 
 Villain, stop ! you measure against the sun. 
 
 Ges. And what of that ? 
 What matter whether to or from the sun? 
 
 Tell. I'd have it at my back. The sun should shine 
 Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots — 
 I will not shoot against the sun. 
 
 Ges. Give him his way. [Sarnem paces and goes out.] 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 206 
 
 Tell, I should like to see the apple I must hit. 
 Ges. [Picks out the smallest one] There, take that. 
 Tell. You've picked the smallest one. 
 Ges. I know I have. Thy skill ^vill be 
 The greater if thou hittest it. 
 
 Tell, [sarcastically.] True — true ! I did not think of that, 
 I wonder I did not think of that. A larger one 
 Had given me a chance to save my boy. — ■ 
 Give me my bow. Let me see my quiver. 
 
 Ges. Give him a single arrow. [To an attendant.] 
 
 [Tell looks at it and breaks it.] 
 Tell. Let me see my quiver. It is not 
 One arrow in a dozen I would use 
 To shoot with at a dove, much less a dove 
 Like that. 
 
 Ges. Show him the quiver. 
 
 [Sarnem returns and takes the apple and the hoy to 
 place them. While this is doing, Tell conceals an 
 arrow under his garment. He then selects another 
 arrow, and says,] 
 Tell. Is the boy ready ? Keep silence now 
 For Heaven's sake, and be my witnesses, 
 That if his life's in peril from my hand, 
 'Tis only for the chance of saving it. 
 For mercy's sake keep motionless and silent. 
 
 [He aims and shoots in the direction of the hoy. In 
 a moment Sarnem. enters with the apple on the ar- 
 row^ s point. 
 , Sar. The boy is safe. 
 Tell. [Raising his arms.] Thank Heaven ! 
 
 [^.9 he raises his arms the concealed arroio falls. 
 Ges. [Picking it up.] Unequalled archer ! why was this 
 
 concealed ? 
 Tell. To kill thee, tyrant, had I slain my boy. 
 
 LESSON CIV. 
 
 The Philosopher's Scales. — Jane Taylor. 
 
 1. A Monk* when his rites sacerdotal were o'er, 
 In the depth of his cell, with its stone-covered floor, 
 
 * Monk, a member of the Roman Catholic church, who has taken a vow 
 of poverty and celibacy. 
 
 18 
 
306 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, 
 Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain : 
 But whether by magic's or alchymy's powers, 
 We know not — indeed, 'tis no business of ours : 
 
 2. Perhaps it was only by patience and care, 
 
 At last, that he brought his invention to bear ; 
 
 In youth 'twas projected, but years stole away, 
 
 And ere 'twas complete, he was wrinkled and gray ; 
 
 But success is secure, unless energy fails — 
 
 And at length he produced the Philosopher's Scales. 
 
 3. " What were they ?" you ask ; you shall presently see ; 
 These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea ; 
 
 O no ; for such properties wondrous had they. 
 
 That qualities, feelings, and thoughts, they could Aveigh : 
 
 Together with articles small, or immense. 
 
 From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense ; 
 
 4. Nought was there so bulky, but there it could lay, 
 And nought so ethereal, but there it would stay. 
 And nought so reluctant, but in it must go — 
 
 All which some examples more clearly will show. 
 
 5. The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire,* 
 Which retained all the wit that had ever been there ; 
 As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf. 
 Containing the prayer of the Penitent Thief; 
 When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell, 
 That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell. 
 
 6. One time he put in Alexander the Great,t 
 
 With a garment, that Dorras| had made, for a weight, 
 And though clad in armor from sandals to crown, 
 The Hero rose up, and the garment went down. 
 
 • Voltaire, a celebrated French historian, philoBopher, dramatic writer, 
 and epic poet, was born at Paris, 1694, and died 1778. He possessed un- 
 common powers of mind, but was inconstant and unstable ; and it is to be 
 regretted that he employed his talents in advancing the cause of infidelity. 
 
 t A king of Macedon, born at Pella, B. C. 355. After extending his 
 power over Greece, he invaded Asid. He defeated the Persians at the three 
 celebrated battles of the Granicus, of Issus, and of Arbela, which rendered 
 him the master of the country. He afterwards returned to Babylon, where 
 he died of intemperance, B. C. 323, in the 33d year of his age, and 13th of 
 bis reign. 
 
 t See Acts, chap ix, 39. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 207 
 
 7. A long' row of alms-houses, amply endowed 
 By a well esteemed Pharisee, busy and proud, 
 Next loaded one scale ; while the other was prest 
 
 By those mites the Poor Widow* dropt into the chest ; 
 
 Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce. 
 
 And down, down the farthing-worth weilt with a bounce. 
 
 8. Again, he performed an experiment rare — 
 A monk, with austerities, bleeding and bare. 
 Climbed into his scale — in the other was laid 
 The heart of our Howard, now partly decayed — 
 When he found with surprise, that the whole of his brother 
 Weighed less by some pounds than the hit of the other. 
 
 9. By further experiments, (no matter how,) 
 
 He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough ; 
 A sword, with gilt trappings, rose up in the scale, 
 Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail — 
 A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear. 
 Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear — 
 
 10. A Lord and a Lady went up at full sail. 
 
 When a Bee chanced to light on the opposite scale — 
 Ten Doctors, ten Lawyers, two Courtiers, one Earl, 
 T'en Counsellor's Wigs, full of poAvder and curl, 
 All heaped in one balance, and swinging from thence. 
 Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense ; 
 
 n. A first water Diamond, with brilliants begirt. 
 
 Than one good potatoe, just waslied from the dirt : 
 
 Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice. 
 
 One pearl to outweigh — 'twas the Pearlf of great price ! 
 
 12. Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate. 
 With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight — 
 When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff, 
 That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof — 
 When balanced in air, it ascended on high. 
 
 And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky — 
 While the scale with the soul in, so mightily fell, 
 That it jerked the Philosopher out of his cell. 
 
 Moral. 
 
 13. Dear Reader, if e'er self-deception prevails, 
 We pray you to try the Philosopher's Scales — 
 
 * See St. Mark, chap. xii. 42. t Religion — see Matthew, chap, xiii. 46. 
 
208 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 But if they are lost in the ruins around, 
 
 Perhaps a good substitute, thus may be found : 
 
 Let Judgment and Conscience, in circles be cut, 
 
 To which strings of Thought, may be carefully put — 
 
 Let these be made even with caution extreme, 
 
 And Impartiality serve for a beam. 
 
 Then bring those good actions, which pride overrates, 
 
 And tear up your motives, in bits, for the Weights. 
 
 LESSON CV. 
 
 fin the Zoonomia of Dr. Darwin, among various instances recorded by 
 that philosophical physician of what he calls maniacal hallucination, or men- 
 tal delusion, is the case of a young farmer of Warwickshire, whose story 
 was well authenticated in the public papers of the time. A poor elderly 
 woman in his neighborhood was in the habit, urged by the pinching necessi- 
 ties of an inclement winter, of taking a few sticks from his grounds and his 
 hedge, to preserve the fading fire in her forlorn cottage. Suspecting the 
 delinquent, the hard-hearted hind watched and detected her. After wrench- 
 ing from her the scanty faggot, blows and reproaches succeeded. Struck 
 with the misery of her situation, and the cruelty of her oppressor, she kneel- 
 ed, and, rearing her withered hands to the cold moon, prayed that " he 
 might never again know the blessing of warmth." The consciousness of 
 wrong, the solemnity of the hour, the pathetic tone, " sharp misery," and 
 impassioned gesture of the miserable matron, at once extinguished the dim 
 reason of the rustic. He immediately complained of a preternatural chil- 
 ness, was continually calling for more fire and clothes, and conceived himself 
 to be in a freezing state, till the time of his death, which happened shortly 
 after. On this singular story is founded the following ballad, which is in the 
 genuine spirit of ancient English song, and shows, by proof irrefragable, that 
 simplicity, and the language of ordinary life, may be connected with the 
 most exquisite poetry. — Farmer's Museum,.'] 
 
 Goody Blake and Harry Gill. — Wordsworth. 
 
 1. Oh ! what's the matter ? what's the matter? 
 What is't that ails young Harry Gill? 
 That evermore his teeth they chatter, 
 Chatter, chatter, chatter still. 
 
 Of waistcoats Harry has no lack. 
 Good duffle gray, and flannel fine ; 
 He has a blanket on his back. 
 And coats enough to smother nine. 
 
 2. In March, December, and in July, 
 'Tis all the same with Harry Gill ; 
 The neighbors tell, and tell you truly, 
 His teeth they chatter, chatter stiH. 
 At night, at morning, and at noon, 
 'Tis all the same with Harry Gill ; 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 209 
 
 Beneath the sun, beneath the moon, 
 His teeth they chatter, chatter still. 
 
 3. Young Harry was a lusty drover, 
 And who so stout of limb as he ? 
 
 His cheeks M^ere red as ruddy clover," 
 His voice was like the voice of three. 
 Auld Goody Blake was old and poor 
 111 fed she was, and thinly clad : 
 And any man who passed her door, 
 Might see how poor a hut she had. 
 
 4. All day she spun in her poor dwelling, 
 And then her three hours' work at night I 
 Alas ! 'twas hardly worth the telling, 
 
 It would not pay for candle-light. 
 — This woman dwelt in Dorsetshire, 
 Her hut was on a cold hill side, 
 And in that country coals are dear, 
 For they come far by wmd and tide. 
 
 5. By the same fire to boil their pottage, 
 Tm'O poor old dames, as I have known, 
 Will often live in one small cottage, — 
 But she, poor woman, dwelt alone. 
 'Twas well enough when summer came. 
 The long warm lightsome summer day. 
 Then at her door the canty dame 
 Would sit, as any linnet gay. 
 
 6. But when the ice our streams did fetter. 
 Oh ! then how her old bones would shake : 
 You would have said, if you had met her, 
 'Twas a hard time for Goody Blake. 
 
 Her evenings then were dull and dead ; 
 Sad case it was as you may think. 
 For very cold to go to bed. 
 And then for cold not sleep a wink. 
 
 7. O joy for her ! whene'er in winter, 
 Tlie winds at night had made a rout, 
 And scattered many a lusty splinter, 
 And many a rotten bough about. 
 Yet never had she, well or sick, 
 
 As every man who knew her says, 
 18* 
 
210 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 A pile before hand, wood or stick, 
 Enough to warm her for three days. 
 
 8. Now when the frost was past enduring, 
 And made her poor old bones to ache, 
 Could any thing be more alluring, 
 Than an old hedge to Goody Blake ? 
 And now and then it must be said, 
 When her old bones were cold and chill, 
 She left her fire, or left her bed. 
 
 To seek the hedge of Harry Gill. 
 
 9. Now Harry he had long suspected 
 This trespass of old Goody Blake, 
 And vow'd that she should be detected, 
 And he on her would vengeance take. 
 And oft from his warm fire he'd go. 
 And to the fields his road would take. 
 And there, at night, in frost and snow, 
 He watch'd to seize old Goody Blake. 
 
 10. And once behind a rick* of barley. 
 Thus looking out did Harry stand ; 
 The moon was full and shining clearly. 
 And crisp with frost the stubble land. 
 — He hears a noise — he's all awake — 
 Again ! — on tiptoe down the hill 
 
 He softly creeps — 'Tis Goody Blake ! 
 She's at the hedge of Harry Gill. 
 
 11. Right glad was he when he beheld her : 
 Stick after stick did Goody pull. 
 
 He stood beliind a bush of elder. 
 Till she had fill'd her apron full. 
 When with her load she turn'd about, 
 The by-road back again to take. 
 He started forward with a shout. 
 And sprang upon poor Goody Blake. 
 
 12. And fiercely by the arm he took her, 
 And by the arm he held her fast. 
 And fiercely by the arm he shook her. 
 And cry'd, " I've caught you then at last !" 
 Then Goody, who had nothing said. 
 
 Her bundle from her lap let fall ; 
 
 * Rick, a pile, or stack. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 211 
 
 And kneeling on the sticks, she pray'd 
 To God that is the Judge of all. 
 
 13. She pray'd, her withered hand iiprearing, 
 While Harry held her by the arm — 
 
 " God ! who art never out of hearing, 
 O may he never more be warm !" 
 The cold, cold moon above her head, 
 Thus on her knees did Goody pray, 
 Young Harry heard what she had said, 
 And icy cold he turn'd away. 
 
 14. He went complaining all the morrow, 
 That he was cold and very chill : 
 
 His face was gloom, his heart was sorrow, 
 Alas that day for Harry Gill ! 
 That day he wore a riding coat, 
 But not a whit the warmer he : 
 Another was on Thursday brought. 
 And ere the Sabbath he had three. 
 
 15. 'Twas all in vain, a useless matter, 
 And blankets were about him pinn'd : 
 Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter, 
 Like a loose casement in the wind. 
 And Harry's flesh it fell away ; 
 
 And all who see him say 'tis plain. 
 That live as long as live he may, 
 He never will be warm again. 
 
 16. No word to any man he utters. 
 Abed or up, to young or old ; 
 But ever to himself he mutters, 
 " Poor Harry Gill is very cold." 
 Abed or up, by night or day. 
 
 His teeth they chatter, chatter still ; 
 Now think, ye farmers all, I pray, 
 Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill. 
 
 LESSON CVI. 
 
 The Three Warjiing-s. — Mrs. Thrale. 
 
 1. The tree of deepest root is found 
 Least willing still to quit the ground. 
 'Twas therefore said by ancient sages. 
 
212 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 ^ That love of life increased with years 
 So much, that in our latter stages, 
 When pains grow sharp and sickness rages, 
 The greatest love of life appears. 
 
 f 
 
 2. This great affection to believe, 
 Which all confess, but few perceive, 
 If old assertions can't prevail. 
 
 Be pleased to hear a modern tale. 
 
 3. When sports went round, and all were gay 
 
 On neighbor Dobson's wedding-day. 
 Death called aside the jocund groom 
 W^ith him into another room ; 
 And looking grave, " You must," says he, 
 " Quit your sweet bride, and come with me." 
 
 4. " With you ! and quit my Susan's side ! 
 With you !" the hapless husband cried ; 
 
 " Young as I am ? 'tis monstrous hard ! 
 Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared : 
 My thoughts on other matters go, 
 This is my wedding-night, you know." 
 
 What more he urged I have not heard : 
 His reasons could not well be stronger : 
 
 So Death the poor delinquent spared, 
 And left to live a little longer. 
 
 5. Yet, calling up a serious look — 
 
 His hour-glass trembled while he spoke, — 
 " Neighbor," he said, " farewell ! no more 
 Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour : 
 And farther to avoid all blame 
 Of cruelty upon my name. 
 To give you time for preparation. 
 And fit you for your future station. 
 Three several warnings you shall have, 
 Before you're summoned to the grave. 
 Willing, for once Dl quit my prey. 
 
 And grant a kind reprieve. 
 In hopes you'll have no more to say. 
 But, when I call again this way, 
 
 Well pleased, tlie world will leave." 
 To these conditions both consented, 
 And parted, perfectly contented. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 213 
 
 6. What next the hero of our tale befell, 
 How long he lived, how wisely, — and how well 
 It pleased him, in his prosperous course, 
 
 To smoke his pipe, and pat his horse, — 
 
 The willing muse shall tell : — 
 He chaffered then, he bought, he sold. 
 Nor once perceived his growing old, 
 
 Nor thought of death as near ; 
 His friends not false, his wife no shrew, 
 Many his gains, his children few. 
 
 He passed his hours in peace. 
 But, while he viewed his wealth increase, — 
 While thus along life's dusty road 
 The beaten track content he trod, — 
 Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares, 
 Uncalled, unheeded, unawares. 
 
 Brought on his eightieth year. 
 
 7. And now, one night, in musing mood, 
 As all alone he sate. 
 
 The unwelcome messenger of fate 
 Once more before him stood. 
 Half killed with anger and surprise, 
 " So soon returned !" old Dobson cries. 
 " So soon, d'ye call it ?" Death replies : 
 " Surely, my friend, you're but in jest : 
 
 Since I was here before 
 'Tis six-and-thirty years at least, 
 
 And you are now fourscore." 
 
 8. " So much the worse !" the clown rejoined : 
 " To spare the aged would be kind : 
 
 Besides, you promised me three warnings. 
 Which I have looked for nights and mornings.'* 
 
 " I know," cries Death, " that, at the best, 
 I seldom am a welcome guest ; 
 But don't be captious, friend, at least : 
 I little thought you'd still be able 
 To stump about your farm and stable : 
 Your years have run to a great length ; 
 I wish you joy, though, of your strength." 
 
 9. " Hold !" says the farmer, " not so fast : 
 I have been lame these four years past." 
 
 " And no great wonder," Death replies : 
 " However, you still keep your eyes ; 
 
214 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 And sure, to see one's loves and friends, 
 For legs and arms would make amends." 
 " Perhaps," says Dobson, " so it might ; 
 But latterly I've lost my sight." 
 
 " This is a shocking story, faith ; 
 Yet there's some comfort, still," says Death : 
 " Each strives your sadness to amuse : 
 I warrant you hear all the news." 
 
 10. " There's none," cries he ; " and if there were, 
 I'm grown so deaf I could not hear." 
 "Nay, then," the spectre stern rejoined, 
 
 " These are unreasonable yearnings : 
 If you are lame, and deaf, and blind. 
 
 You've had your three sufficient warnings : 
 So come along ; no more we'll part." 
 He said, and touched him with his dart : 
 And now old Dobson, turning pale, 
 Yields to his fate so ends my tale. 
 
 LESSON CVII. 
 
 The Dervis and tJie Two Merchants. — Lacon. 
 
 L The ignorant have often given credit to the wise, for 
 powers that are permitted to none, merely because the wise 
 iiave made a proper use of those powers that are permitted to 
 
 all. y 
 
 2. The little Arabian tale of the dervis, shall be the comment 
 of this proposition. A dervis was journeying alone in the des- 
 ert, when two merchants suddenly met him ; " You have lost 
 a camel," said he to the merchants ; " indeed we have," they 
 replied : 
 
 3. " Was he not blind in his right eye, and lame in his l^ft 
 leg ?" said the dervis ; " he was," replied the merchants ; 
 *' had he not lost a front tooth ?" said the dervis, " he had," 
 rejoined the merchants ; " and was he not loaded with honey 
 on one side and wheat on the other?" — "most certainly he 
 was," they replied, " and as you have seen him so lately, and 
 marked him so particularly, you can, in all probability, conduct 
 us unto him." 
 
 4. " My friends," said the dervis, " I have never seen your 
 camel, nor ever heard of him but from you." "A pretty story, 
 truly," said the merchants, " but where are the jewels which 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 215 
 
 formed a part of his cargo ?" " I have neither seen your camel, 
 nor j^our jewels," repeated the dervis. 
 
 5. On this, they seized his person, and forthwith hurried him 
 before the cadi,* where, on the strictest search, nothing could be 
 found upon him, nor could any evidence whatever be adduced 
 to convict him, either of falsehood or theft. - 
 
 6. They were then about to proceed against him as a sorcer- 
 er, when the dervis, with great calmness, thus addressed the 
 court : " I have been much amused with your surprise, and own 
 that there has been some ground for your suspicions ; I have 
 lived long, and alone ; I can find amjde scoj)e for observation, 
 even in a desert. 
 
 7. " I knew that I had crossed the track of a camel that had 
 strayed from its owner, because I saw no mark of any human 
 footstep on the same route ; I knew that the animal was blind 
 of one eye, because it had cropped the herbage only on one side 
 of its path : and I perceived that it was lame in one leg, from 
 the faint impression that particular foot had produced on the 
 sand ; I concluded, that the animal had lost one tooth, because 
 wherever it had grazed, a small tuft of herbage was left uninjur- 
 ed, in the centre of its bite. 
 
 8. " As to that which formed the burden of tlije beast, the busy 
 ants inform.ed me that it was corn on the one side, and the 
 clustering flies, that it was honey on the other." 
 
 LESSON CVIIL 
 
 On the Present and Future State, — Addison. 
 
 1. A LEWD young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him 
 barefoot, " Father," says he, " you are in a very miserable con- 
 dition, if there is not another world." " True, son," said the 
 hermit ; *' but what is thy condition if there is ?" — Man is a 
 creature designed for two different states of being, or rather for 
 two diflerent lives. His first life is short and transient ; his 
 second permanent and lasting. 
 
 2. The question we are all concerned in, is this — In which 
 of these two lives is it our chief interest to make ourselves happy? 
 Or, in other words — Whether we should endeavour to secure to 
 ourselves the pleasures and gratifications of a life which is un- 
 certain and precarious, and at its utmost length, of a very incon- 
 siderable duration; or to secure to ourselves the pleasures of a 
 
 ♦ A Turkish magistrate. 
 
216 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 life which is fixed and settled, and will never end ? Everj" man, 
 upon the first hearing of this question, knows very well which 
 side of it he ought to close with. 
 
 3. But however right we are in theory, it is plain that in 
 practice we adhere to the wrong side of the question. We 
 make provision for this life as though it were never to have an 
 end ; and for the other life as though it were never to have a 
 beginning. 
 
 4. Should aspirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human 
 nature, accidentally alight upon this earth, and take a survey of 
 its inhabitants — What would his notions of us be ? Would he 
 not think that we are a species of beings made for quite different 
 ends and purposes than what we really are ? Must he not ima- 
 gine that we were placed in this world to get riches and honors? 
 Would he not think that it was our duty to toil after wealth, 
 and station, and title ? 
 
 5. Nay, would he not believe we were forbidden poverty, by 
 threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to pursue our pleas- 
 ures, under pain of damnation ? He would certainly imagine 
 that we were influenced by a scheme of duties quite opposite to 
 those which are indeed prescribed to us. 
 
 6. And, truly, according to such an imagination, he must 
 conclude that we are a species of the most obedient creatures in 
 the universe ; — that we are constant to our duty ; and that we 
 keep a steady eye on the end for wliich we were sent hither. 
 
 7. But how great would be his astonishment, when he learnt 
 that we were beings not designed to exist in this world above 
 three score and ten years: and that the greatest ])art of this busy 
 species fall short even of that age ! II ow would he be lost in 
 horror and admiration, when he should know that this set of 
 creatures, who lay out all their endeavors for this life, which 
 scarce deserves the name of existence, when, I say, he should 
 know that this set of creatures are to exist to all eternity in anoth- 
 er life, for which they make no preparations ? 
 
 8. Nothing can be a greater disgrace to reason, than that men 
 who are persuaded of these two different states of being, should 
 be perpetually employed in providing for a life of three score 
 and ten years, and neglecting to make provision for that, which, 
 after many myriads of years, will be still newand still beginning; 
 especially when we consider, that our endeavors for making our- 
 selves great, or rich, or honorable, or whatever else we place our 
 happiness in, may, after all, prove unsuccessful ; whereas, if we 
 constantly and sincerely endeavor to make ourselves happy in 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 217 
 
 the other life, we are sure that our endeavors will succeed, and 
 that we shall not be disappointed of our hope. 
 
 9. The following question is started by one of our schoolmen. 
 Supposing the whole body of the earth were a great baM or mass 
 of the finest sand, and that a single grain or particle of this sand 
 should be annilvlated every thousand years ?^-Supposing, then, 
 that you had it in your choice to be happy all the while this 
 prodigious mass of sand was consuming, by this slow method, 
 until there was not a grain left, on condition that you were to 
 be miserable forever after? Or, supposing that you might be 
 happy for ever after, on condition you would be miserable until 
 the whole mass of sand were thus annihilated, at the rate of one 
 sand in a thousand years ; — which of these two cases would you 
 make your choice ? 
 
 10. It must be confessed, in this case, so many thousands of 
 years are to the imagination as a kind of eternity, though, in 
 reality, they do not bear so great a proportion to that duration 
 which is to follow them, as an unit does to the greatest number 
 which you can put together in figures, or as one of those sands 
 to the supposed heap. Reason therefore tells us, without any 
 manner of hesitation, which would be the better part in this 
 choice. 
 
 11. However, as I have before intimated, our reason might, 
 in such a case, be so overset by imagination, as to dispose some 
 persons to sink under the consideration of the great length of 
 the first part of this duration, and of the great distance of tliat 
 second duration which is to succeed it ; — the mind, I say, might 
 give itself up to that hapj)iiiess which is at hand, considering, 
 that it is so very near, and that it would last so very long. 
 
 12. But when the choice we have actually before us is this — 
 Whether we will choose to be happy for the space of only three 
 score and ten, nay, perhaps of only twenty or ten years, I might 
 say for only a day or an hour, and miserable to all eternity ; or, 
 on the contrary, misei-able for this short term of years, and 
 happy for a whole eternity — what words are sufficient to express 
 that folly and want of consideration which, in such case, makes 
 a wrong choice ! 
 
 13. I here put the case even at the worst, by supposing what 
 seldom happens, — that a course of virtue makes us miserable in 
 this life: but if we suppose, as it generally happens, that virtue 
 would make us more happy, even in this life, than a contrary 
 course of vice, how can we sufficiently admire the stupidity or 
 madness of those persons who are capable of making so absurd 
 a choice ? 
 
 19 
 
JStl8 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 14. Every wise man, therefore, will consider this life only m 
 it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and cheerfully 
 sacrifice the pleasures of a few years, to those of an eternity. 
 
 LESSON CIX. 
 
 My Mother^s Picture. — Cowper. 
 
 1. O THAT those lips had language ! life has passM 
 With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
 
 My mother, when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
 Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
 Wretch even theriy life's journey just begun ? 
 Perhaps thou gav'st me, though inifelt, a kiss ; 
 Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss : 
 Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes. 
 
 2. I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day ; 
 I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away ; 
 And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew 
 A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu. . 
 
 But was it such ? — It was — where thou art gone, 
 Adieus and farewells, are a sound unknown. 
 And if this meet thee on that peaceful shore. 
 The parting word shall pass my lips no more. 
 
 3. Thy maidens, griev'd themselves at my concern. 
 Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 
 
 What ardently I wish'd, I long believ'd. 
 And, disappointed still, was still deceiv'd. 
 By expectation, every day beguil'd, 
 Dupe of to-morrow, even when a child. 
 Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went. 
 Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, 
 I learn'd, at last, submission to my lot ; 
 But, though I less deplore thee, ne'er forgot 
 
 4. My boast is not, that I deduce my birth 
 From loins enthron'd, and rulers of the earth ; 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rise, — 
 The son of parents pass'd into the skies. 
 And now, farewell. Time unrevok'd has run 
 His wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done. 
 
 5. By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
 I seem t' have liv'd my childhood o'er again ; 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 219 
 
 To have renew'd the joys that once were mine. 
 Without the sin of violating thine ; 
 And while the wings of fancy still are free, 
 And I can view this mimic show of thee, 
 Time has but half succeeded in his theft ; 
 Thyself remov'd, thy pow'r to soothe me, left. 
 
 LESSON ex. 
 
 Ode to Disappointment. — Henry Kirke Whitb. 
 
 L Come, Disappointment, come, 
 Not in thy terrors clad ; 
 Come in thy meekest, saddest guise ; 
 Thy chastening rod but terrifies 
 The restless and the bad. 
 But I recline 
 Beneath thy shrine, 
 And round my brow resign'd, thy peaceful cypress twine. 
 
 2. Though Fancy flies away 
 
 Before thy hollow tread, 
 Yet meditation, in her cell. 
 Hears, with faint eye, the lingering knell, 
 That tells her hopes are dead ; 
 And though the tear 
 By chance appear, 
 Yet she can smile and say, my all was not laid here, 
 
 3. Come, Disappointment, come. 
 
 Though from hope's summit hurlM, 
 Still, rigid nurse, thou art forgiven, 
 For thou severe wert sent from heaven 
 To wean me from the world : 
 To turn my eye 
 From vanity, 
 And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die. 
 
 4. What is this passing scene ? 
 
 A peevish April day ! 
 A little sun, a little rain. 
 And then night sweeps along the plain, 
 And all things fade away. 
 Man (soon discuss'd) 
 Yields up his trust. 
 And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust 
 
220 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. Oh ! what is Beauty's power ? 
 
 It flourishes and dies ; 
 Will the cold earth its silence break, 
 To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek 
 Beneath its surface lies ? 
 Mute, mute is all 
 O'er Beauty's fall ; 
 Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall. 
 
 6. The most beloved on earth 
 
 Not long survives to-day ; 
 So music past is obsolete, 
 And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, 
 But now 'tis gone away. 
 Thus does the shade 
 In memory fade, 
 When in forsaken tomb, the form beloved is laid. 
 
 7. Then since this world is vain, 
 
 And volatile and fleet, 
 Why should I lay up earthly joys 
 Where rust corrupts and moth destroys, 
 And cares and sorrows eat ? 
 Why fly from ill 
 With anxious skill, 
 When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still. 
 
 8. Come, Disappointment, come ! ^ 
 
 Thou art not stern to me : 
 Sad monitress ! I own thy sway ; 
 A votary sad in early day, 
 I bend my knee to thee. 
 From sun to sun 
 My race will run, 
 I only bow and say — my God, thy will be done. 
 
 LESSON CXI. 
 
 Wkat is Time ? — Marsden. 
 
 1. 1 ASKED an aged man, a man of cares, 
 Wrinkled, and curved, and white with hoary hairs ; 
 *' Time is the warp of Ufe," he said, " Oh, tell 
 The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well /" 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 221 
 
 2. 1 asked the ancient, venerable dead, 
 
 Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled ; 
 From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed, 
 " Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode I" 
 
 3. 1 asked a dying sinner, ere the tide 
 
 Of life had left his veins : " Time !" he replied ; 
 " I've lost it ! Ah, the treasure !" and he died. 
 
 4. 1 asked the golden sun, and silver spheres, 
 Those bright chronometers of days and years : 
 They answered, " Time is but a meteor glare I" 
 And bade us for eternity prepare. 
 
 5. 1 asked the Seasons, in their annual round, 
 Which beautify, or desolate the ground ; 
 And they replied, (no oracle more wise,) 
 " 'Tis Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize !" 
 
 6. I asked a spirit lost ; but oh, the shriek 
 
 That pierced my soul ! I shudder while I speak I 
 It cried, " A particle ! a speck ! a mite 
 Of endless years, duration infinite !" — 
 
 7. Of things inanimate, my dial I 
 Consulted, and it made me this reply : — 
 " Time is the season fair of living well, 
 The path of glory, or the path of hell." 
 
 6. 1 asked my Bible ; and methinks it said, 
 *' Time is the present-hour^ — the past is fled ; 
 Live ! live to-day ! to-morrow never yet 
 On any human being rose or set." 
 
 9. I asked old Father Time himself, at last. 
 But in a moment he flew swiftly past ; 
 His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind 
 His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind. 
 
 10. I asked the mighty Angel* who shall stand 
 One foot on sea, and one on solid land ; 
 " I now declare, the mystery is o'er — 
 Time was,''^ he cried, " but Time shall be no more P* 
 ♦ See Revelation, chap. x. 
 19* 
 
222 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON CXII. 
 
 Casabianca. — Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 Young Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son to the admiral of 
 the Orient, remained at his post, (in the battle of the Nile,) after the ship 
 had taken fire, and all the guns had been abandoned ; and perished in the 
 explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder. 
 
 L The boy stood on the burning deck, 
 Whence all but him had fled ; 
 The jlame that lit the battle's wreck. 
 Shone round him o'er the dead. 
 
 2. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 
 
 As born to rule the storm ; 
 A creature of heroic blood, 
 
 A proud, though child-like form. 
 
 3. The flashes roll'd on — he would not go, 
 
 Without his father's word ; ■ 
 That father, faint in death below, 
 His voice no longer heard. 
 
 4. He call'd aloud — " Say, father, say 
 
 if yet my task is done ?" 
 He knew not that the chieftain lay 
 Unconscious of his son. 
 
 5. " Speak, father !" once again he cried, 
 
 "If I may yet be gone ?" 
 — And but the booming shots replied, 
 And fast the flames roll'd on. 
 
 6. Upon his brow he felt their breath, 
 
 And in his waving hair. 
 And look'd from that lone post of death. 
 In still, yet brave despair. 
 
 7. And shouted but once more aloud, 
 
 " My father ! must I stay ?" 
 While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud. 
 The wreathing fires made way. 
 
 8. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 
 
 They caught the flag on high, 
 And streamed above the gallant child, 
 Like banners in the sky. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 223 
 
 9. There came a burst of thunder sound — 
 
 The boy — Oh! where was he? 
 — Ask of the winds that far around 
 With fragments strewed the sea ! 
 
 10. With mast and hehn, and pennon* fair, 
 
 That M^ell had borne their part — 
 But the noblest thing that perished there, 
 Was that young faithful heart. 
 
 LESSON CXIII. 
 The Just Judge. — Anonymous. 
 
 1. A GENTLEMAN, who posscssed an estate, worth about five 
 hundred a year, in the eastern part of England, had also two 
 sons. The eldest, being of a rambling disposition, went abroad. 
 After several years, his father died; when the „ younger son, 
 d^troying his will, seized upon the estate. He gave out that 
 his elder brother was dead, and bribed false Avitnesses to attest 
 the truth of it. 
 
 2. In the course of time, the elder brother returned ; but 
 came home in miserable circumstances. His younger brother 
 repulsed him with scorn, and told him that he was an impostor 
 and a cheat. He asserted that his real brother M^as dead long- 
 ago ; and he could bring witnesses to prove it. The poor fel- 
 low, having neither money nor friends, was in a most dismal 
 situation. He went round the parish making complaints, and, 
 at last to a lawyer, who, when he had heard the poor man's 
 story, replied, " You have nothing to give me. If I undertake 
 your cause and lose it, it will bring me into disgrace, as all the 
 wealtli and evidence are on your brother's side. 
 
 3. " But, however, I will undertake your cause on this con- 
 dition : you shall enter into an obligation to pay me one thou- 
 sand guineas, if I gain the estate for you. If I lose it, I know 
 the consequences ; and I venture with my eyes open." Accord- 
 ingly, he entered an action against the younger brother, which 
 was to be tried at the next general assizesf at Chelmsford, in 
 Essex. 
 
 4. The lawyer, having engaged in the cause of the young 
 man, and stimulated by the prospect of a thousand guineas, set 
 his wits to work to contrive the best methods to gain his end. 
 At last he hit upon this happy thought, that he would consult 
 
 ♦ Pennon, a small flag, or banner. t As-si'-zes, a court in England. 
 
2^ NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 the first judge of his age, Lord Chief Justice Hale.f Accord- 
 ingly, he hastened up to London, and laid open the cause, and 
 all its circumstances. The judge, Avho was a great lover of 
 justice, heard the case attentively, and promised him all the 
 assistance in his power. 
 
 5. The lawyer having taken leave, the judge contrived mat- 
 ters so as to finish all his business at the King's Bench, before 
 the assizes began at Chelmsford. When within a short distance 
 of the place, he dismissed his man and horses, and sought out 
 for a single house. He found one occupied by a miller. After 
 some conversation, and making himself quite agreeable, he pro- 
 posed to the miller to change clothes with him. As the judge 
 nad a very good suit on, the man had no reason to object. 
 
 6. Accordingly, the judge shifted himself from top to toe, 
 and put on a complete suit of the miller's best. Armed with a 
 miller's hat, and shoes, and stick, away he marches to Chelms- 
 ford, and procured good lodging, suitable for the assizes that 
 should come on next day. When the trials came on, he walked, 
 like an ignorant country fellow, backwards and forwards along 
 the county hall. He had a thousand eyes within him, and when 
 the court began to fill, he found out the poor fellow who was 
 tlie plaintiff. 
 
 7. As soon as he came into the hall, the miller drew up to 
 him. " Honest friend," said he, " how is your cause like to go 
 to-day ?" " Why," replied the plaintiff, " my cause is in a very 
 precarious situation, and, if I lose it, I am ruined for life." 
 " Well, honest friend," replied the miller, " if you will take my 
 advice, I will let you into a secret, which perhaps you do not 
 know ; every Englishman has the right and privilege to except 
 against any one juryman through the whole twelve ; now do 
 you insist upon your privilege, without giving a reason why, 
 and, if possible, get me chosen in his room, and I will do you 
 all the service in my power." 
 
 8. Accordingly, when the clerk had called over the names of 
 the jurymen, the plaintiff excepted to one of them. The judge 
 on the bench was highly offended with this liberty. " What do 
 you mean," said he, "by excepting against that gentleman?" 
 "I mean, mv Lord, to assert my privilege as an Englishman, 
 without giving a reason why." 
 
 9. The judi>c, who had been hiirhly bribed, in order to con- 
 ceal it by a show of candor, and having a confidence in the 
 
 * Sir Matthew Hale, a very distinguished lawyer, born in A. D. 1G09, sjod 
 died iu 1676. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 225 
 
 superiority of his party, said, " Well, sir, as you claim your 
 privilege in one instance, I will grant it. Whom would you 
 w^ish to have in the room of that man excepted ?" After a short 
 time, taken in consideration, " My lord," says he, " I wish to 
 have an honest man chosen in ;" and looking round the court — 
 " jNty lord, there is that miller in the court, we will have him, if 
 you please." Accordingly, the miller was chosen in. 
 
 10. As soon as the clerk of the court had given them all their 
 oaths, a little dexterous fellow came into the apartment, and 
 sHpped ten guineas into the hands of eleven jurymen, and gave 
 the miller but five. He observed, that they were all bribed as 
 well as himself, and said to his next neighbor, in a soft whisper, 
 " how much have you got ?" " Ten pieces," said he. But he 
 concealed what he had got himself. The cause Avas opened by 
 the plaintiff's counsel, and all the scraps of evidence they could 
 pick up were adduced in his favor. 
 
 11. The younger brother was provided with a great number 
 of witnesses, and pleaders, all plentifully bribed as well as the 
 judge. The evidence deposed, that they were in the selfsame 
 country when the brother died, and saw him buried. The 
 counsellors pleaded upon this accumulated evidence : and every 
 thing went with a full tide in favor of the younger brother. 
 The judge summed up the evidence with great gravity and 
 deliberation ; — " And now, gentlemen of the jury," said he, 
 " lay your heads together, and bring in your verdict as you shall 
 deem most just." 
 
 12. They waited but a few minutes, before they determined 
 in favor of the younger brother. The judge said, " Gentlemen, 
 are you agreed, and who shall speak for you ?" — " We are all 
 agreed, my lord," replied one ; " our foreman shall speak for 
 us." " Hold, my lord," replied the miller, " we are not all 
 agreed." "Why?" said the judge, in a very surly manner, 
 " what's the matter with you ? what reasons have you for 
 disagreeing ?" 
 
 13 " I have several reasons, my lord," replied the miller : 
 " the first is, they have given to all tliese gentlemen of the jury 
 ten broad pieces of gold, and to me but five ; which, you know, 
 is not fair. Besides, I have many objections to make to the 
 false reasonings of the pleaders, and the contradictor}^ evidence 
 of the witnesses." Upon this, the miller began a discourse, 
 which discovered such vast penetration of judgment, such ox- 
 tensive knowledge of law, and was expressed with such ener- 
 getic and manly eloquence, that astonished the judge and th© 
 whole court. 
 
226 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 14. As he was going on \vith his powerful demonstrations, 
 the judge, in a surprise of soul, stopped him. " Where did you 
 come from, and who are you?" " I came from Westminster 
 Hall," replied the miller ; " my name is Matthew Hale. I am 
 lord chief justice of the King's Bench. I have observed the 
 iniquity of your proceedings this day ; therefore, come down 
 from a seat which you are no ways worthy to hold. You are 
 one of the corrupt parties in this iniquitous business. I will 
 come up this moment and try the cause all over again." 
 
 15. Accordingly, Sir Matthew went up, with his miller*s 
 dress and hat on, began the trial from its very commencement, 
 and searched every circumstance of truth and falsehood. He 
 evinced the elder brother's title to the estate, from the contra- 
 dictory evidence of the witnesses, and the false reasoning of the 
 pleaders ; unravelled all the sophistry to the very bottom, and 
 gained a complete victory in favor of truth and justice. 
 
 LESSON CXIV. 
 
 On Happiness. — Sterne. 
 
 1. The great pursuit of man is after happiness ; it is the 
 first and strongest desire of his nature ; — in every stage of his 
 life he searches for it as for hid treasure ; courts it under a thou- 
 sand different shapes ; and, though perpetually disappointed — 
 still persists — runs after and inquires for it afresh — asks every 
 passenger who comes in his way, " Who will show him any 
 good ;" — who will assist him in the attainment of it, or direct 
 nim to the discovery of this great end of all his wishes ? 
 
 2. He is told by one to search for it among the more gay and 
 youthful pleasures of life ; in scenes of mirth and sprightliness, 
 where happiness ever presides, and is ever to be known by the 
 joy and laughter which he will see at once painted in her looks. 
 
 3. A second, with a graver aspect, points out to him the 
 costly dwelling which pride and extravagance have erected, 
 tells the inquirer that the object he is in search of inhabits there, 
 that happiness lives only in company with the great, in the 
 midst of much pomp and outward state. That he will easily 
 find her out by the coat of many colors she has on, and the great 
 luxury and expense of equipage and furniture with which she 
 always sits surrounded. 
 
 4. The miser wonders how anyone would mislead and wilful- 
 ly put him upon so wrong a scent — convinces him that happiness 
 and extravagance never inhabited under the same roof; — that. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 227 
 
 if he would not be disappointed in his search, he must look into 
 the plain and thrifty dwelling of the prudent man, who knows 
 and understands the worth of money, and cautiously lays it up 
 against an evil hour. That it is not the prostitution of wealtn 
 upon the passions, or the parting with it at all, that constitutes 
 happiness — but that it is the keeping it together, and the having 
 and holding it fast to him and his heirs for ever, which are the 
 chief attributes that form this great idol of human worship, to 
 which so much incense is offered up every day. 
 
 5. The epicure,* though he easily rectifies so gross a mistake, 
 yet, at the same time, he plunges him,' if possible, into a greater; 
 for, hearing the object of his pursuit to be happiness, and know- 
 ing of no other happiness than what is seated immediately in 
 his senses — he sends the inquirer there; tells him it is in vain 
 to search elsewhere for it, than where nature herself has placed 
 it — in the indulgence and gratification . f the appetites, which 
 are given us for that end : and in a word — if he will not take 
 his opinion in the matter — he may trust the word of a much 
 wiser man, who has assured us — that there is nothing better in 
 this world, than that a man should eat and drink, and rejoice 
 in his works, and make his soul enjoy good in his labor — for 
 that is his portion. 
 
 6. To rescue him from this brutal experiment — ambition 
 takes him by the hand and carries him into the world — :^]iow3 
 him all the kingdoms of the earth, and the glory of tliem — 
 points out the many ways of advancing his fortune, and raising 
 himself to honor — lays before his eyes all the charms and be- 
 witching temptations of power, and asks if there be any happi- 
 ness in this world like that of being caressed, courted, flattered, 
 and followed. 
 
 7. To close all, the philosopher meets him bustling in the full 
 career of his pursuits — stops him — tells him, if he is in search 
 of happiness, he is gone far out of his way : — That this deity 
 has long been banished from noise and tumults, where there 
 was no rest found for her, and has fled into solitude, far from 
 all commerce of the world ; and, in a word, if he would find 
 her, he must leave this busy and intriguing scene, and go back 
 to that peaceful scene of retirement and books, from which he 
 first set out. 
 
 8. In this circle, too often does a man run, tries all experi- 
 ments, and generally sits down wearied and dissatisfied with 
 them all at last — in utter despair of ever accomplishing v/hat 
 
 * Epicure, one excessively fond of eating and drinking. 
 
238 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 he wants — not knowing what to trust to after so many disap- 
 pointments — or where to lay the fault ; whether in the incapa- 
 city of his own nature, or the insufficiency of the enjoyments 
 themselves. 
 
 9. There is hardly any subject more exhausted, or which, at 
 one time or other, has afforded more miatter for argument and 
 declamation, than this one, of the insufficiency of our enjoyments 
 Scarce a reformed sensualist, from Solomon down to our own 
 days, \vho has not in some fits of repentance or disappointment 
 uttered some sharp reflection upon the emptiness of human 
 pleasure, and of the vanity of vanities which discovers itself in 
 all the pursuits of mortal man. 
 
 10. And though in our pilgrimage through this world — some 
 of us may be so fortunate as to meet with some clear fountains 
 by the way, that may cool for a few moments the heat of this 
 great thirst of happiness — yet our Saviour, who knew the world, 
 though he enjoyed but little of it, tells us, that whosoever drink- 
 eth of this water will thirst again ; and we all find by experi- 
 ence, that it is so, and by reason, that it always must be so. 
 
 LESSON CXV. 
 On Sincerity. — Tillotson. 
 
 1. Truth and sincerity have all the advantages of appear- 
 ance and many more. If the show of any thing be good for 
 any thinir, I am sure the reality is better; for why does any 
 man dissemble, or seem to be that which he is not, but because 
 he thinks it good to have the (]ualitics he pretends to? P'or to 
 counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the appearance of some 
 real excellency. 
 
 2. Now, the best way for a man to seem to be any thing, is 
 really to be what he would seem to be. Besides, it is often as 
 troublesome to support the pretence of a good quality, as to have 
 it ; and if a man have it not, it is most likely he will be discov- 
 ered to want it, and then all his labor to seem to have it is lost. 
 There is something unnatural in painting, which a skilful eye 
 will easily discern from native beauty and complexion. 
 
 3. It is hard to personate and act a part long ; for where 
 truth is not at the bottom, nature will always be endeavoring to 
 return, and will betray herself at one time or other. Therefore, 
 if any man think it convenient to seem good, let him be so 
 indeed, and then his goodness will appear to every one's satis- 
 faction ; for truth is convincing, and carries its own light and 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 229 
 
 evidence along with it, and will not only commend us to every 
 man's conscience, but which is much more, to God, who search- 
 eth our hearts. So that upon all accounts sincerity is true 
 wisdom. 
 
 4. Especially as to the affairs of this world, sincerity hath 
 many advantages over all the artificial modes of dissimulation 
 and deceit. It is much the plainer and easier, much the safer 
 and more secure way of dealing in the world : it has less of 
 trouble and difficulty, of entanglement and perplexity, of danger 
 and hazard, in it ; it is the shortest and nearest way to our end, 
 carrying us thither in a straight line, and will hold out and last 
 longest. 
 
 5. The arts of deceit and cunning continually grow weaker 
 and less effectual and serviceable to those that practise them ; 
 whereas integrity gains strength by use, and the more and lon- 
 ger any man practiseth it, the greater service it does him, by 
 confirming his reputation, and encouraging those with whom he 
 hath to do, to repose the greatest confidence in him, which is 
 an unspeakable advantage in business and the affairs of life. 
 
 6. A dissembler must always be upon his guard and watch 
 himself carefully, that he do not contradict his own pretensions ; 
 for he acts an unnatural part, and therefore must put a continual 
 force and restraint upon himself. Whereas he that acts sincere- 
 ly hath the easiest task in tJie world; because he follows nature, 
 and so is put to no trouble and care about his words and actions; 
 he needs not invent any pretences beforehand, nor make excuses 
 afterwards, for any thing he hath said or done. 
 
 7. But insincerity is very troublesome to manage ; a hypo-" 
 crite has so many things to attend to, as make his life a very 
 perplexed and intricate thing. A liar hath need of a good 
 memory, lest he contradict at one time what he said at anolner ; 
 but truth is always consistent with itself, and needs nothing to 
 help it out ; it is always near at hand, and sits upon our lips ; 
 whereas a lie is troublesome, and needs a great many more to 
 make it good. 
 
 8. Add to all this, that sincerity is the most compendious 
 wisdom, and an excellent instrument for the speedy despatch of 
 business. It creates confidence in those we have to deal with, 
 saves the labor of many inquiries, and brings things to an issue 
 in a few words. It is like travelling in a plain beaten road, 
 which commonly brings a man sooner to his journey's end, than 
 by-ways, in which men often lose themselves. 
 
 9. In a word, whatsoever convenience may be thought to be 
 in falsehood and dissimulation, it is soon over ; but the incon- 
 
 20 
 
230 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 venience of it is perpetual, because it brings a man under an 
 everlasting jealousy and suspicion, so that he is not believed 
 when he speaks truth, nor trusted when perhaps he means 
 honestly. When a man hath once forfeited the reputation of 
 his integrity, nothing will then serve his turn, neither truth nor 
 falsehood. 
 
 10. Indeed, if a man were only to deal in the world for a 
 day, and should never have occasion to converse more with 
 mankind, never more need their good opinion or good word, it 
 were then no great matter (as far as respects the affairs of this 
 world) if he spent his reputation all at once, and ventured it at 
 one throw. 
 
 11. But if he be to continue in the world, and would have 
 the advantage of reputation whilst he is in it, let him make use 
 of truth and sincerity in all his words and actions, for nothing 
 but this will hold out to the end. All other arts will fail, but 
 truth and integrity will carry a man through, and bear him out 
 to the last. 
 
 LESSON CXVI. 
 
 Story of Le Fevre. — Sterne. 
 
 1. It was sometime in the summer of that year in which 
 Dendermond* was taken by the allies, when my uncle Toby 
 was one evening getting his supper, with Trim sitting behind 
 him, at a small sideboard — I say sitting — for in consideration 
 of the corporal's lame knee (which sometimes gave him exquis- 
 ite pain) — when my uncle Toby dined or supped alone, he 
 would never suffer the corporal to stand. 
 
 2. And the poor fellow's veneration for his master was such, 
 that, with a proper artillery, my uncle Toby could have taken 
 Dendermond itself, with less trouble than he was able to gain 
 this point over him ; for many a time when my uncle 'loby 
 supposed the corporal's ]eg was at rest, he would look back and 
 detect him standing behind him, with the most dutiful respect ; 
 this bred more little squabbles betwixt them, than all other 
 causes, for five and twenty years together. 
 
 3. He was one evening sitting thus at his supper, when the 
 landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlor, with 
 an empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass or two of sack : 'Tia 
 for a poor gentleman — I think of the army, said the landlord, 
 
 • A town in the Netherlaoids. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 231 
 
 who has been taken ill at my house four days ago, and has never 
 held up his head since, or had a desire to taste any thing till just 
 now, that he has a fancv for a glass of sack,* and a thin toast 
 " I think," says he, taking his hand from his forehead, — " it 
 would comfort me." 
 
 4. If I could neither beg, borroAV, nor buy such a thing — 
 added the landlord— I would almost steal it for the poor gentle- 
 man, he is so ill — I hope he will still mend, continued he — we 
 are all of us concerned for him. 
 
 5. Thou art a good natured soul, I will answer for thee, cried 
 my uncle Toby ; and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's 
 health in a glass of sack thyself — and take a couple of bottles, 
 with my service, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, 
 and to a dozen more, if they will do him good. 
 
 6. Though I am persuaded, said my imcle Toby, as the land- 
 lord shut the door, he is a very compassionate fellow. Trim — 
 yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his guest too ; 
 there must be something more than common in him, that, in so 
 short a time, should win so much upon the affections of his host, 
 — And of his whole family, added the corporal, for they are all 
 concerned for him. Step after him, said my uncle Toby — do 
 Trim, and ask if he knows his name. 
 
 7. I have quite forgot it, truly, said the landlord, coming back 
 into the parlor with the corporal — but I can ask his son again. — 
 Has he a son with him, then ? said my uncle Toby. A boy, 
 replied the landlord, of about eleven or twelve years of age ; — 
 but the poor creature has tasted almost as little as his father ; 
 he does nothing but mourn and lament for him night and day. 
 He has not stirred from the bed-side these two days. 
 
 8. My uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust 
 his plate from before him, as the landlord gave him the account : 
 and Trim, without being ordered, took them away, without say- 
 ing one word, and in a few minutes after, brought him his pipe 
 and tobacco. 
 
 9. Trim ! said my uncle Toby, 1 have a project in my head, 
 as it is a bad night, of wrapping myself up warm in my roque- 
 laure,t and paying a visit to this poor gentleman. Your honor's 
 roquelaure, replied the corporal, has not once been had on since 
 the night before your honor received your wound, when we 
 mounted guard in the trenches before the gate of St. Nicholas ; 
 — and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night, that, what with 
 
 ♦ Sack, a species of sweet wine, brought chiefly from the Canary Islands, 
 t PjTQnounced rok'-e-lo, a cloak. 
 
232 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 the roquelaure, and what with the weather, it will be enough to 
 give your honor your death. 
 
 10. I fear so, replied my uncle Toby ; but I am not at rest 
 in my mind. Trim, since the account the landlord has given me 
 — I wish I had not known so much of this aflair — added my 
 uncle Toby — or that I had known more of it : — how shall we 
 manage it? Leave it, an't* please your honor, to me, quothf 
 the corporal ; — I'll take my hat and stick, and go to the house, 
 and reconnoitre, and act accordingly : and I will bring your 
 honor a full account in an hour. Thou shalt go. Trim, said 
 my uncle Toby, and here's a shilling for thee to drink with his 
 servant. I shall get it all out of him, said the corporal, shutting 
 the door. 
 
 11. It was not till my uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out 
 of his third pipe, that corporal Trim returned from the inn, and 
 gave him the following account : — I despaired at first, said the 
 corporal, of being able to bring back your honor any kind of 
 intelligence concerning the poor sick lieutenant. — Is he of the 
 army, then ? said my uncle Toby. — He is, said the corporal. — 
 And in what regiment ? said my uncle Toby — I'll tell your 
 honor, replied the corporal, every thing straight forward as I 
 learnt it. 
 
 12. Then, Trim, I'll fill another pipe, said my uncle Toby, 
 and not interrupt thee ; — so sit down at thy ease. Trim, in the 
 window seat, and begin thy story again. The corporal made 
 his old bow, which generally spoke as plain as a bow could 
 apeak it, " Your honor is good ;" and having done that, he sat 
 down, as he was ordered — and began the story to my uncle 
 Toby over again, in pretty near the same words. 
 
 13. I despaired at first, said the corporal, of being able to 
 bring back any intelligence to your honor, about the lieutenant 
 and his son ; for when I asked where the servant was, from 
 whom I made myself sure of knowing every thing that was 
 
 proper to be asked That's a right distinction. Trim, said 
 
 my uncle Toby — I was answered, an't please your honor, that 
 he' had no servant with him — That he had come to the inn with 
 hired horses ; — which, upon finding himself unable to proceed, 
 (to join, I suppose, the regiment) he had dismissed the morning 
 after he came. 
 
 14. If I get better, my dear, said he, as he gave his purse to 
 his son to pay the man — we can hire horses from hence. But 
 alas 1 the poor gentleman will never get from hence, said the 
 
 ♦ An't, if it. t auoth, said. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 233 
 
 landlady to me, for I heard the death watch all night long; — 
 and when he dies, the youth, his son, will certainly die with 
 him; for he is broken hearted already. 
 
 15. I was hearing this account, continued the corporal, when 
 the youth came into the kitchen to order the thin toast the land- 
 lord spoke of; but I will do it for my father myself, said the 
 youth. Pray let me save you the trouble, young gentleman, 
 said I, taking up a fork for the purpose, and offering him my 
 chair to sit down upon by the fire, whilst I did it. 
 
 16. I believe, Sir, said he very modestly, I can please him 
 best myself. — I am sure, said I, his honor will not like the toast 
 the worse for being toasted by an old soldier. The youth took 
 hold of my hand, and instantly burst into tears. Poor youth ! 
 said my uncle Toby — he has been bred up from an infant in the 
 army, and the name of a soldier. Trim, sounded in his ears like 
 the name of a friend. I wish I had him here. 
 
 17. I never, in the longest march, said the corporal, had 
 so great a mind to my dinner, as I had to cry with him for com- 
 pany: What could be the matter with me, an't please your 
 honor? Nothing in the world, Trim, said my uncle Toby, 
 blowing his nose — but that thou art a good natured fellow. 
 
 18. When I gave him the toast, continued the corporal — I 
 thought it was proper to tell him 1 was captain Shandy's ser- 
 vant, and that your honor (though a stranger) was extremely 
 concerned for his father; and that if there was any thing in 
 your house or cellar — (and thou mightest have added my purse 
 too, said my uncle Toby,) — he was heartily welcome to it. 
 
 19. He made a very low bow (which was meant to your 
 honor) — but no answer — for his heart was full — so he went up 
 stuirs with the toast; I warrant you, my dear, said I, as I 
 opened the kitchen door, your father will be well again. Mr. 
 Yorick's curate was smoking a pipe by the kitchen fire, but 
 said not a word, good or bad, to comfort the youth. I thought 
 it wrong, added the corporal — I think so too, said my uncle 
 Toby. 
 
 20. Wlien the lieutenant had taken his glass of sack and 
 toast, he felt himself a little revived, and sent down into the 
 kitclien, to let me know, that in about ten minutes, he should 
 be glad if I would step up stairs. — I believe, said the landlord, 
 he is going to say his prayers — for there was a book laid upon 
 the chair, by his bed-side, and as I shut the door, I saw his son 
 take up a cushion. 
 
 21. I thought, said the curate, that you gentlemen of the 
 army, Mr. Trim, never said your prayers at all. I heard the 
 
 30* 
 
234 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 poor gentleman say his prayers last night, said the landlady, 
 very devoutly, and with my own ears, or I could not have 
 believed it. Are you sure of it ? replied the curate. A soldier, 
 an*t please your reverence, said I, prays as often (of his own 
 accord) as a parson ; — and when he is fighting for his king, 
 and for his own life, and for his honor too, he has the most 
 reason to pray to God of any one in the whole world. 
 
 22. 'Twas well said of thee. Trim, said my uncle Toby, — 
 but when a soldier, said I, an't please your reverence, has been 
 standing for twelve hours together, in the trenches, up to his 
 knees in cold water — or engaged, said I, for months together, 
 in long and dangerous marches : harassed, perhaps, in his rear 
 to-day ; harassing others to-morrow ; — detached here — coun- 
 termanded there — resting this night out upon his arms — beat up 
 in his shirt the next — benumbed in his joints — perhaps without 
 straw in his tent to kneel on — he must say his prayers how and 
 when he can. 
 
 23. I believe, said I, — for Iwas piqued,* quoth the corporal, 
 for the reputation of the army — I believe, an't please your rev- 
 erence, said I, that when a soldier gets time to pray — he prays 
 as heartily as a parson — though not with all his fuss and hypoc- 
 risy. Thou shouldst not have said that, Trim, said my uncle 
 Toby — for God only knows who is a hypocrite, and who is not. 
 At the great and geneml review of us all, corporal, at the day 
 of judgment (and not till then) — it will be seen who have done 
 their duties in this world, and who have not ; and we shall be 
 advanced. Trim, accordingly. 
 
 24. I hope we shall, said Trim. — It is in the scripture, said 
 my uncle Toby ; and I will show it thee to-morrow : — In the 
 mean time, we may depend upon it. Trim, for our comfort, said 
 my uncle Toby, that God Almighty is so good and just a gov- 
 ernor of the world, that if we have but done our duties in it — it 
 will nev^er be inquired into, whether we have done them in a red 
 coat or a black one : — I hope not, said the corporal. — But go on, 
 Trim, said my uncle Toby, with the story. 
 
 25. When I went up, continued the corporal, into the lieu- 
 tenant's room, which I did not do till the expiration of the t-en 
 minutea, he was laying in his bed, with his head raised upon his 
 hand, his elbows upon the pillow, and a clean white cambric 
 handkerchief beside it: The youth was just stooping down to 
 tj\ke up the cushion upon which I supposed he had been kneel- 
 ing — the book was laid upon the bed — and as he rose, in taking 
 
 * Pronounced peek'd, offended. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 235 
 
 up the cushion with one hand, he reached out his other to take 
 the book away at the same time. Let it remain there, my dear, 
 said the Keutenant. 
 
 26. He did not offer to speak to me till I had walked up 
 close to his bed side : If you are captain Shandy's servant, said 
 he, you must present my thanks to your master, with my little 
 boy's thanks along with them, for his courtesy to me : — if he 
 
 was of Leven's said the lieutenant. I told him your honor 
 
 was then, said he, I served three campaigns with him in 
 
 Flanders, and remember him ; but 'tis most likely, as I had not 
 the honor of any acquaintance with him, that he knows nothing 
 of me. 
 
 27. You will tell him, however, that the person his good 
 nature has laid under obligations to him, is one Le Fevre, a 
 
 lieutenant in Angus's* but he knows me not — said he a 
 
 second time, musing ; — possibly he may my story — added he — 
 pray tell the captain, I was the ensign at Breda,t whose wife 
 was most unfortunately killed with a musket shot, as she lay in 
 my arms in my tent. — I remember the story, an't please your 
 honor, said I, very well. 
 
 28. Do you so ? said he, wiping his eyes with his handker- 
 chief — then well may I. In saying this, he drew a little ring 
 
 out of his bosom, Avhich seemed tied with a black riband about 
 his neck, and kissed it twice. — Here, Billy, said he — the boy 
 flew across the room to the bed side, and falling down upon his 
 knee, took the ring in his hand, and kissed it too, then kissed 
 his father, and sat down upon the bed and wept. 
 
 29. I wish, said my uncle Toby with a deep sigh — I wish, 
 Trim, I was asleep. — Your honor, replied the corporal, is too 
 much concerned : shall I pour your honor out a glass of sack 
 to your pipe ? Do, Trim, said my uncle Toby. 
 
 30. I remember, said my uncle Toby, sighing again, the 
 story of the ensign and his wife, and particularly well, that 
 he as well as she, upon some account or other, (I forget what,) 
 was universally pitied by the whole regiment ; but finish the 
 story. 
 
 31. 'Tis finished already, said the corporal, for I could stay 
 no longer, so wished his honor a good night ; youn^ Le Fevre 
 rose from off" the bed ; and saw me to the bottom of the stairs ; 
 and as we went down together, told me they had come from 
 Ireland, and were on their route to join the regiment in Flan- 
 ders. But, alas ! said the corporal, the lieutenant's last day's 
 
 • Angus's regiment. t A town in the Netherlands. 
 
236 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 march is over. Then what is to become of his poor boy ? cried 
 my uncle Toby. 
 
 32. Thou hast left this matter short, said my micle Toby, to 
 the corporal, as he was putting him to bed, and I will tell thee 
 in what, Trim. In the first place, when thou mad'st an offer 
 of my services to Le Fevre, as sickness and travelling are both 
 expensive, and thou knewest lie was but a poor lieutenant, with 
 a son to subsist, as well as himself, out of his pay, that thou 
 didst not make an offer to him of my purse, because, had he 
 stood in need, thou knowest. Trim, he had been as welcome to 
 it as myself. Your honor knows, said the corporal, I had no 
 orders : True, quoth my uncle Toby, thou didst very right, 
 Trim, as a soldier, but certainly, very wrong, as a man. 
 
 33. In the second place, for which, indeed, thou hast the 
 same excuse, continued my uncle Toby, when thou offeredst 
 him whatever was in my house, that thou shouldesthave offered 
 him my house too : A sick brother officer should have the best 
 quarters, Trim ; and if we had him with us, we could tend and 
 look to him ; thou art an excellent nurse thyself. Trim, and 
 what with thy care of him, and the old woman's, and his boy's, 
 and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set 
 him upon his legs. 
 
 34. In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle Toby, 
 smiling, he might march. He will never march, an't please 
 your honor, in this world, said the corporal. He will march, 
 said my uncle Toby, rising up from the side of the bed, with 
 one shoe off. An't please your honor, said the corporal, he will 
 never march, but to his jrrave. He shall march, cried my uncle 
 Toby, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without 
 advancing an inch, he shall march to his regiment. He cannot 
 stand it, said the corporal. He shall be supported, said my uncle 
 Toby. He'll drop at last, said the corporal, and what will 
 become of his boy ? He shall not drop, said my uncle Toby, 
 firmly. A well o'day, do what we can for him, said Trim, 
 maintaining his point, the poor soul will die. He shall not die, 
 by H n, cried my uncle Toby. 
 
 ' 35. — The Accusing Spirit, which flew up to Heaven's 
 chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in ; and the 
 Rkcording Anc^el, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon 
 the word, and blotted it out for ever. 
 
 36. — My uncle Toby went to his l^ureau, put his purse into 
 his pocket, and having ordered the corporal to go early in the 
 morning for a physician, he went to bed and fell asleep. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 237 
 
 37. The sun looked bright the morning- after, to every eye 
 in the village but Le Fevre's and his afflicted son's ; the hand 
 of death pressed heavy upon his eyelids, and hardly could the 
 wheel at the cistern turn round its circle, when my uncle Toby, 
 who had got up an hour before his wonted time, entered the 
 lieutenant's room, and without preface or apology, sat himself 
 down upon the chair by the bed side, and independently of all 
 modes and customs, opened the curtain, in the manner an old 
 friend and brother officer would have done it, and asked him 
 how he did — how he had rested in the night — what was his 
 complaint — where was his pain — and what he could do to help 
 him ? And without giving him time to answer any one of these 
 inquiries, went on and told him of the little plan which he had 
 been concerting with the corporal, the night before, for him. 
 
 38. You shall go home directly, Le Fevre, said my uncle 
 Toby, to my house — and we'll send for a doctor to see what'a 
 the matter — and we'll have an apothecary — and the corporal 
 shall be your nurse — and I'll be your servant, Le Fevre. 
 
 39. There was a frankness in my uncle Toby — not the effect 
 of familiarity, but the cause of it — which let you at once into 
 his soul, and showed you the goodness of his nature ; to this 
 there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, super- 
 added, which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and 
 take shelter under him ; so that before my uncle Toby had half 
 finished the kind offers he was making to the father, had the 
 son insensibly pressed up close to his knees, and had taken hold 
 of the breast of his coat, and was pulling it towards him. 
 
 40. The blood and spirit of Le Fevre, which were waxing 
 cold and slow within him, and were retreating to their last 
 citadel, the heart, rallied back — the film forsook his eyes for a 
 moment, he looked up wistfully in my uncle Toby's face — then 
 cast a look upon his boy. — Nature instantly ebb'd again — the 
 film returned to its place — the pulse fluttered, stopped — went 
 on — throbbed — stopped again — moved — stopped — shall I go 
 on ?— No. 
 
 LESSON CXVII. 
 
 Prince Henry and Falstaff. — Shakspeare. 
 
 P. Henry. Welcome, Jack! — Where hast thou been? 
 
 Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too, 
 marry and amen ! Give me a cup of sack, boy : — ere I lead this 
 life long, I'll sew nether socks and mend them, and foot theio 
 
238 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 too. A plague of all cowards ! give me a cup of sack, rogue. 
 Is there no virtue extant? [he drinks.] — You rogue, here's 
 lime in this sack too. There is nothing but roguery to be found 
 in villanous man ; yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack 
 with lime in it. A villanous coward ! — Go thy ways, old Jack; 
 die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot 
 upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There 
 live not three good men unhang'd in England, and one of them 
 is fat and grows old, Heaven help the while ! A bad world ! I 
 Bay — A plague of all cowards ! I say still. 
 
 P. Henry. How now Woolsack ! what mutter you ? 
 
 Fal. A king's son ! if I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom 
 with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like 
 a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more ! 
 You Prince of Wales ! 
 
 P. Henry. Why, what's the matter? 
 
 Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me that. 
 
 P. Henry. An'* ye call me coward, I'll stab thee. 
 
 Fal. I call thee coward! I'll see thee hang'd ere I'll call thee 
 coward ; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast 
 as thou canst. You're straight enough in the shoulders; you 
 care not who sees your back. Call you that backing of friends? 
 a plague upon such backing! give me them that will face me — 
 give me a cup of sack : I am a rogue if I drank to-day. 
 
 P. Henry. O villain ! thy lips are scarce wipM since thou 
 drank'st last. 
 
 Fal. All's one for that. [He drinks.] A plague of all cow- 
 ards ! still, say I. 
 
 P. Henry. What's the matter? 
 
 Fal. What's the matter ! here be four of us have ta'en a 
 thousand pound this morning. 
 
 P. Henry. Where is it, Jack ? Where is it ? 
 
 Fal. Where is it I taken from us, it is : a hundred upon four 
 of us. 
 
 P. Henry. What ! a hundred, man ? 
 
 Fal. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword \vith a dozen 
 of them two hours together. I have escaped by a miracle. I am 
 eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, 
 my buckler cut through and through, my sword hack'd like a 
 handsaw — I never dealt better since I was a man: all would 
 not do. A plague of all cowards ! 
 
 P. Henry. What, fought you with them all? 
 
 ♦ An', i£ 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 239 
 
 Fal. All ! I know not what ye call all ; but if I fought not 
 with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish ; if there were not 
 two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two- 
 legg'd creature. 
 
 P. Henry. Pray Heav'n, you have not murder'd some of 
 them ! 
 
 Fal. Nay, that's past praying for. I have pepper'd two of 
 them ; two, I am sure, I have paid ; two rogues in buckram 
 suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, 
 call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward : here I lay, and 
 thus I bore my point ; four rogues in buckram let drive at me. 
 
 P. Henry. What, four ! thou saidst but two even now. 
 
 Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four, — These four came all 
 afront, and mainly thrust at me : I made no more ado, but took 
 all their seven points in my target,* thus. 
 
 P. Henry. Seven ! why they were but four even now. 
 
 Fal. In buckram ? 
 
 P. Henry. Ay, four, in buckram suits. 
 
 Fal. Seven by these hilts, or I am a villain else. Dost thoa 
 hear me, Hal ? 
 
 P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too. Jack. 
 
 Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in 
 buckram, that I told thee of — 
 
 P. Henry. So, two more already. 
 
 Fal. Their points being broken, began to give me ground ; 
 but I followed me close, came in foot and hand, and, with a 
 thought — seven of the eleven I paid. 
 
 P. Henry. O monstrous ! eleven buckram men grown out of 
 two. 
 
 Fal. But as Satan would have it, three misbegotten knaves, 
 in Kendal-green, came at my back, and let drive at me ; for it 
 was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. 
 
 P. Henry. These lies are like the father that begets them, 
 rross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained 
 neap, thou knotty-pated fool — 
 
 Fal. What, art thou mad ? art thou mad ? is not the truth 
 the truth. 
 
 P. Henry. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Ken- 
 dal-green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand T 
 Come, tell us your reason : what say'st thou to this ? Come, 
 your reason, Jack, your reason. 
 
 • Target, a small shield, used as a defenaive weapon. 
 
iJ40 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Fal. What, upon compulsion ! — No : were I at the strappado,* 
 or all the racks in the world, I woidd not tell you on compul- 
 sion ? Give you a reason on compulsion ! If reasons were as 
 plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon 
 compulsion. 
 
 P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This sanguine 
 coward, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh — 
 
 Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dry'd neat's 
 tongue, you stock-fish ! O, for breath to utter ! what is like 
 thee ? 
 
 P. Henry. Well, breathe a while, and then to't again ; and 
 when thou hast tir'd thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak 
 but this : — Poins and I saw you four set on four ; you bound 
 them, and were masters of their wealth : mark now, how a plain 
 tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four, 
 and with a word out-fac'd you from your prize, and have it ; 
 yea, and can show it you here in the house. And, Falstaff, you 
 carry'd yourself away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and 
 roar'd for mercy, and still ran and roar'd, as ever I heard a calf. 
 What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, 
 and then say it was in fight ! What trick, what device, what 
 starting-hole canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this 
 open and apparent shame ? 
 
 Fal. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — D'ye think I did not know you ? I 
 knew you as well as he that made you. Why, hear ye, my 
 master, was it for me to kill the heir-apparent ? should I turn 
 upon the true prince ? why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as 
 Hercules ;t but beware instinct ; the lion will not touch the 
 true prince ; instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on 
 instinct, I grant you : and I shall think the better of myself 
 and thee during my life ; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a 
 true prince. But I am glad you have the money. Let us clap 
 to the doors ; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. What, shall 
 we be merry ? shall we have a play extempore ? 
 
 P. Henry. Content ! — and the argmiient shall be, thy run- 
 ning away. 
 
 Fal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an' thou lovest me. 
 
 • Strappado, a punishment formerly in use, in which the offender wa« 
 drawn to the top of a beam, and let fall. 
 
 t Pronounced Uer'-cu-lees, a Grecian hero, distinguished for his strength 
 and valor. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 241 
 
 LESSON CXVIII. 
 
 Scene from the Tragedy of King John. — Shakspeare. 
 
 Prince Arthur, Hubert, and Attendants. 
 
 Scene. — A room in the castle, Northampton. 
 
 Enter Hubert and two Attendants. 
 
 Hubert. Heat me these irons hot : and look thou stand 
 Within the arras : when I strike my foot 
 Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth, 
 And bind the boy, which you shall find with me. 
 Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. 
 
 1 Attendant. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed. 
 
 Hub, Uncleanly scruples ! Fear not you : look to't — 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants. 
 Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. 
 
 Enter Arthur. 
 
 Arthur. Good morrow, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Good morrow, little prince, 
 
 Arth. As little prince (having so great a title 
 To be more prince,) as may be. — You are sad. 
 
 Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. 
 
 Arth. Mercy on me ! 
 
 Methinks, no body should be sad but I : 
 Yet I remember when I was in France, 
 Young gentlemen would be as sad as ni^ht. 
 Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
 So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
 I should be merry as the day is long ; 
 And so I would be here, but that I doubt 
 My uncle practises more harm to me ! 
 He is afraid of me, and I of him ; 
 Is it my fault that I were Jeffrey's son ? 
 No indeed, is't not ; and I would to heaven, 
 I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert 
 
 Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate 
 He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : 
 Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [Asids^ 
 
 Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? You look pale to-day. 
 In sooth, I would you were a little sick ; 
 That I might sit all night, and Avatch with you. 
 I warrant, I love you more than you do me. 
 
 21 
 
242 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Huh. His words do take possession of my bosom. — 
 Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.] How now, fool- 
 ish rheum? [Aside. 
 Turning dispiteous torture out the door I 
 I must be brief; lest resolution drop 
 Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. — 
 Can you not read it ? Is it not fair writ ? 
 
 Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect : 
 Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ! 
 
 Hub, Young boy, I must. 
 
 Arth. And will you ? 
 
 Hub. And I will. 
 
 Arth. Have you the heart ? "'tVhen your head did but ache, 
 I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
 (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) 
 And I did never ask it you again : 
 And with my hand at midnight held your head, 
 And like the watchful minutes to the hour, 
 Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; 
 Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief? 
 Or, What good love may I perform for you ? 
 Majiy a poor man's son would have lain still, 
 And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ; 
 But you at your sick service had a prince. 
 Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, 
 And call it cunning : do, and if you will : 
 If heaven be pleased that you should use me ill, 
 Why, then you must. — Will you put out mine eyes ? 
 These eyes that never did, nor never shall. 
 So much as frown on ytm ? 
 
 Hub. I have sworn to do it; 
 
 And with hot irons must I burn them out. 
 
 Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age wr»uld do it: 
 The iron of itself, though heat red-hot. 
 Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, 
 And quench its fiery indignation, 
 Even in the matter of mine innocence : 
 Nay, after that, consume away in rust, 
 But for containinor fire to harm mine eve. 
 Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron ? 
 And if an angel should have come to me. 
 And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, 
 I would have believed no tonuue but Hubert's. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 243 
 
 Huh. Come forth. ^ [Stamps. 
 
 Re-e7iter Attendants, with cord, irons, SfC, 
 Do as I bid you do. 
 
 Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me ! My eyes are out 
 Even with the fierce looks of the bloody men. 
 
 Huh. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. 
 
 Arth. Alas ! what need you be so boisterous rough : 
 I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. 
 For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound ! 
 Nay, hear me Hubert ! drive these men away, 
 And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ; 
 I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, 
 Nor look upon the irons angrily ; 
 Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, 
 Whatever torment you do put me to. 
 
 Huh. Go, stand within : let me alone with him. 
 
 1 Atten. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. 
 
 [Exeunt Attendants. 
 
 Arth. Alas ! I then have chid away my friend : 
 He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart : — 
 Let him come back, that his compassion may 
 Give life to yours. 
 
 Huh. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 
 
 Arth. Is there no remedy ? 
 
 Huh. None, but to lose your eyes. 
 
 Arth. O heaven ! that there were but a mote in yours, 
 A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, 
 Any annoyance in that precious sense ! 
 Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, 
 Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 
 
 Huh. Is this your promise ? Go to, hold your tongue. 
 
 Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues 
 Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : 
 Let me not hold my tongue ; let mWnot, Hubert I 
 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out m,y tongue, 
 So I may keep mine eyes ; O, spare mine eyes ; 
 Though to no use, but still to look on you ! 
 Lo ! by my troth, the instrument is cold, 
 And would not harm me. 
 
 Huh. I can heat it, boy. 
 
 Arth. No, in good sooth, the fire is dead with grief — 
 Being create for comfort — to be used 
 In undeserved extremes : See else yourself; 
 Tliere is no malice in this burning coal ; 
 
344 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 The breath of heaven hath blown its spirit out, 
 And strewed repentant ashes on his head. 
 
 Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. 
 
 Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush, 
 And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert ; 
 Nay, it perchance ^vill sparkle in your eyes, 
 And, like a dog, that is compelled to fight, 
 Snatch at his master that does set him on. 
 All things, that you should use to do me wrong. 
 Deny their office ; only you do lack 
 That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends — 
 Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. 
 
 Huh. Well, see to live ; I will not touch thine eyes 
 For all the treasure that thine uncle owns ; 
 Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, 
 With this same very iron to burn them out. 
 
 Arth. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this while 
 You were disguised. 
 
 Hub. Peace : no more ; Adieu ! — 
 
 Your uncle must not know but you are dead : 
 ril fill these dogged spies with false reports. 
 And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure 
 That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world. 
 Will not oftend thee. 
 
 Arth. O heaven ! — I thank you, Hubert. 
 
 Hub. Silence : no more. Go closely in with me ; 
 Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. 
 
 LESSON CXIX. 
 
 Speechofa Scythian* A mbassador to Alexander. — Q. Curtiits. 
 
 1. When the Scythian ambassadors waited on Alexander the 
 Great, they gazed on l\im a long time witliout speaking a word; 
 being very probably surprised, as they formed a judgment of 
 men from their air and stature, to find that his did not answer 
 the high idea they entertained of him from his fame. 
 
 2. At last the oldest of the ambassadors addressed him thus: 
 " Had the gods given thee a body proportionable to thy ambi- 
 tion, the whole universe would have been too little for thee. 
 With one hand thou wouldst touch the East, and with the other 
 the West ; and not satisfied with this, thou wouldst follow the 
 sun, and know where he hides himself. 
 
 * The Scythians were a wandering people, in the eastern part of Europe 
 and western part of Asia. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 245 
 
 3. " But what have we to do with thee? We never set foot in 
 thy country. May not those who inhabit woods be allowed to 
 live, without knowing who thou art, and whence thou comest? 
 We will neither command over, nor submit to any man. 
 
 4. " And that thou mayst be sensible what kind of people 
 the Scythians are, know that we received frortl heaven, as a rich 
 present, a yoke of oxen, a ploughshare, a dart, a javelin, and a 
 cup. These we make use of, both with our friends, and against 
 our enemies. 
 
 5. " To our friends we give corn, which we procure by the 
 labor of our oxen; with them we offer wine to the gods in our 
 cup; and with regard to our enemies, we combat them at a dis- 
 tance with our arrows, and near at hand with our javelins. 
 
 6. " But thou, who boastest thy coming to extirpate robbers, 
 art thyself the greatest robber upon earth. Thou hast plunder- 
 ed all nations thou overcamest ; thou hast possessed thyself of 
 Libya, invaded Syria, Persia, and Bactriana; thou art forming 
 a design to march as far as India, and now thou comest hither to 
 seize upon our l^^^ls of cattle. 
 
 7. "The grer.i possessions thou hast, only make thee covet 
 the more eageily what thou hast not. If thou art a god, thou 
 oiightest to do good to mortals, and not deprive them of their 
 possessions. 
 
 8. "If thou art a mere man, reflect always on what thou art. 
 They whom thou shalt not molest will be thy true friends ; the 
 strongest friendships being contracted between equals ; and they 
 are esteemed equals who have not tried their strength against 
 each other. But do not suppose that those whom thou conquer- 
 est can love thee." 
 
 LESSON CXX. 
 
 Diogenes at the Isthmian Games * — Wakefield's Dig Chry- 
 
 SOSTOM. 
 
 1. The cynic philosopher Diogenes,! observing a pefson 
 stalking from the Stadium,! ^^^ *^^ midst of so immense a multi- 
 
 * So called from their being celebrated on the Isthmus of Corinth, in the 
 soQthern part of Greece. 
 
 t Diogenes was a celebrated cynic philosopher, born 420 years B. C, at 
 Sinope. He was reinarkable for his contempt of riches, and for his negli- 
 gence in dress ; he had no food but what was brought to him daily ; and he 
 lived in a tub, of which he turned the open side toward the sun in winter, 
 and the contrary in summer. After a life spent in the greatest indigene© 
 and misery, he died in the 96th year of his age. 
 
 t A place for running, wrestling, &c. 
 
 21* 
 
346 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 tilde, as sometimes not even to touch the ground, but to be borne 
 aloft by the concourse round him : some following close upon 
 him with loud acclamations, others leaping with exultation and 
 raising their hands to heaven; others again throwing garlands 
 and fillets* at the man — as soon as he was able to approach, 
 inquired, What this tumultuous assemblage of people was doing? 
 and, What had happened ? The man replied, " I have gained 
 the victory, Diogenes ! over the runners in the Stadium." 
 
 2. " What is the nature of this victory ?" said he. " Your 
 understanding, I presume, has acquired not even the slenderest 
 improvements from your superiority of speed over your compe- 
 titors ; nor are you become more temperate and continent than 
 before ; nor less timorous, nor less a prey to melancholy ; nor, 
 peradventure, will you live henceforward Mdth more moderate 
 desires, or under greater freedom from uneasiness and vexation 
 of spirit." 
 
 3. " Be that as it may," the man rejoins, "I excel all the other 
 Greeks in the swiftness of my feet." — "But," said Diogenes, 
 " you are not swifter than the hares, nor the stags; and yet these 
 creatures, though the swiftest of all others, are at the same time 
 the most timorous, afraid both of men, anch birds of prey, and 
 of dogs ; so as to lead a life of uninterrupted misery. 
 
 4. " Indeed you must be aware, are you not, tliat speed is 
 in reality a symptom of timidity ? for the most timid animals 
 are also invariably the swiftest. In conformity with this dis- 
 pensation of nature, Hercules was slower of foot than most 
 men ; and, from his consequent inability of laying hold on his 
 antagonists by speed, was accustomed to carry a bow and 
 arrows, and thus arrest a flying adversary with his weapons." 
 
 5. " Yes," said the man : " but the poet tells us, how Achil- 
 le8,t the swift-footed, was a \varrior likewise of incomparable 
 fortitude." " And whence," replied Diogenes, " can we infer 
 the celerity of Acliilles? for we find him incapable of overtaking 
 Hector,! after a pursuit of an entire day. However, are you 
 not ashamed of priding yourself on that property, in which you 
 must acknowledge your inferiority to the meanest animals? Nay^ 
 I suppose, that you would not be able to outstrip even di fox in 
 speed. But, after all, at what a distance did you leave your 
 competitors behind ?" 
 
 6. " A very small distance, Diogenes ! and this very circum- 
 stance makes my victory so admirably glorious." " It seems, 
 
 • Fillet, a band to tie up the hair. 
 
 t The bravest of the Greeks in the Trojan war. 
 
 " The son of Priam, king of Troy, and a valiant hero. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. ^7 
 
 then," said Diog'enes, "'that your triumph and felicity depended 
 on a single step." — "No wonder: we were all the fleetest run- 
 ners imaginable." — "By how great an interval do you think a 
 lark would have gone over the Stadium before you all ?" " But 
 they have wings, and fly." "Well !" replies Diogenes : "if 
 swiftness then be a proof of excellence, it were better to be a 
 lark than a man : so that our commiseration for larks and lap- 
 wings, because they were metamorphosed* from men into birds, 
 as mythologists inform us, is unseasonable and unnecessary." 
 
 7. " But I," said the victorious racer, " who am a man myself, 
 am the swiftest of mankind." "Yes !" replied Diogenes : "and 
 is it not probable, that among ants, also, one is swifter than 
 another? Yet are the ants objects of admiration to their fellows 
 on that account ? Or would you not think it a laughable absurd- 
 ity in any man to admire an ant for his speed ? Suppose again, 
 that all your competitors had been lame, would you have prided 
 yourself, as on some masterly achievement, for outstripping the 
 lame, when you were not lame like the rest ?" 
 
 8. By such conversation as this, he produced in many of his 
 hearers a supreme contempt for the boasted accomplishment in 
 question : and the man too departed, under no little mortifica- 
 tion and humiliation, from this interview with Diogenes. Nor 
 was the philosopher of little service to society in this respect, 
 by reducing to a smaller compass and assuaging the tumors of 
 a senseless infatuation, as swellings on the body subside from 
 scarification and puncture, whenever he saw any man inflated 
 with a frivolous conceit of unsubstantial excellence, and carried 
 beyond the limits of sober sentiment by qualities utterly desti- 
 tute of intrinsic worth. 
 
 LESSON CXXL 
 
 Diversity in the Human Character. — Pope. 
 
 \. Virtuous and vicious every man must be, 
 Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree ; 
 The rogue and fool, by fits are fair and wise, 
 And e'en the best, by fits what they despise. 
 *Tis but by part we follow good or ill, 
 For, Vice or Virtue, Self directs it still ; 
 Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal ;* 
 But Heaven's great view is one, — and that the whole. 
 
 • Pronounced Met-a-mor-fus'd, changed. 
 
 t Goal, the end which a person aims to reach or accomplish. 
 
248 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. That counterworks each folly and caprice ; 
 That disappoints th' effect of ev'ry vice ; 
 
 That happy frailties to all ranks apply'd — 
 Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, 
 Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief, 
 To kings presumption, and to crowds belief. 
 That Virtue's end from vanity can raise, 
 Which seeks no interest, no reward but praise ; 
 And builds on wants, and on defects of mind, 
 _ The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. 
 
 3. Heaven, forming each on other to depend, 
 A master, or a servant, or a friend. 
 
 Bids each on other for assistance call, 
 
 Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. 
 
 Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 
 
 The common int'rest, or endear the tie. 
 
 To those we owe true friendship, love sincere. 
 
 Each homefelt joy that life inliorits here ; 
 
 Yet from the same, we learn, in its decline. 
 
 Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to resign. 
 
 Taught, half by reason, half by mere decay. 
 
 To welcome death, and calmly pass away. 
 
 4. What'er the passion, knowledge, fame or pelf, 
 Not one would change his neighbor with himself. 
 The learn'd is ha])py, nature to explore. 
 
 The fool is happy that he knows no more ; 
 
 The rich is happy in the plenty given. 
 
 The poor contents him with the care of heaven : 
 
 See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing. 
 
 The sot a hero, lunatic a king; 
 
 The starvino- cliimistin his golden views 
 
 Supremely blest, the poet in his muse. 
 
 5. See some strange comfort ev'ry state attend, 
 And pride, bestow'd on all, a common friend ; 
 See some fit passion ev'ry age supply, 
 
 Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die. 
 
 6. Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, 
 Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled witli a straw: 
 Some livelier playthinsr gives liis youth delight, 
 A little louder, but as empty quite ; 
 
 Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage. 
 And cards and counters are the toys of age: 
 Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before ; 
 Till ttr'd he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. dl9 
 
 7. Meanwhile opinion gilds, with varying rays. 
 Those painted clouds that beautify our days ; 
 Each want of happiness by hope supply'd, 
 And each vacuity of sense by pride. 
 These build as fast as knowledge can destroy : 
 In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy : 
 One prospect lost, another still we gain, 
 And not a vanity is given in vain : 
 E'en mean self-love becomes, by force divine, 
 The scale to measure others' wants by thine. 
 See ! and confess, one comfort still must rise ; 
 *Ti3 this : Though man's a fool, yet God is wise. 
 
 LESSON CXXIL 
 
 On the Pursuits of Mankind. — Pope. 
 
 1. Honor and shame from no condition rise ; 
 Act w^ell your part — there all the honor lies. 
 Fortune in men has some small difference made ; 
 One flaunts in rags — one flutters in brocade ;* 
 The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd ; 
 The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 
 
 " What differ more," you cry, " than crown and cowl Tf" 
 I tell you friend — a wise man and a fool. 
 You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, 
 Or, cobbler like, the parson will be drunk : 
 Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow : 
 The rest is all but leather or prunella. 
 
 2. Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race. 
 In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece : 
 
 But by your father's worth if your's you rate, 
 
 Count me those only who were good and great. 
 
 Go ! if your ancient, but ignoble blood, 
 
 Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood : 
 
 Go ! and pretend your family is young, 
 
 Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. 
 
 What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards ; 
 
 Alas ! not all the blood of all the Howards. 
 
 3. Look next on greatness — say where greatness Kea t 
 " Where, but among the heroes and the wise ?" 
 
 ♦ Brocade, a silk stuff variegated with gold and silver. 
 ^ Cowl, a hood worn by a monk. 
 
260 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed, 
 
 From Macedonia's madman* to the Swede :t 
 
 The whole strange purpose of their Hves, to find, 
 
 Or make an enemy of all mankind ! 
 
 Not one looks backward ; onward still he goes ; 
 
 Yet ne'er looks forward, farther than his nose. 
 
 No less alike the politic and wise ; 
 
 All sly slow things with circmnspective eyes. 
 
 Men in their loose, unguarded liours they take, 
 
 Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. 
 
 4. But grant that those can conquer ; these can cheat ; 
 'Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great. 
 
 Who wickedly is wise, or madly brave, 
 
 Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 
 
 Who 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. | 
 
 5. What's fame ? a fanci'd life in other's breath, 
 A thing beyond us, e'en before our death. 
 
 All fame is foreign, but of true desert. 
 
 Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart ; 
 
 One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 
 
 Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas : 
 
 And more true joy, Marcellus|| exil'd, feels. 
 
 Than Cesar, with a Senate at his heels. 
 
 6. In parts superior what advantage lies? 
 Tell, (for you can,) what is it to be wise ? 
 'Tis but to know how little can be known ; 
 To see all otliers' faults, and feel our own ; 
 Condemn'd in business or in arts to drudge, 
 Without a second or without a judge. 
 
 Truths would you teach, to save a sinking land T 
 All fear, none aid you, and few understand. 
 Painful pre-eminence ! yourself to view 
 Above life's weakness, and its comforts too. 
 
 7. Bring then these blessings to a strict account ; 
 Make fair deductions, see to what they 'mount ; 
 
 * Alexander the Great. 
 
 t Charles Xil. king of Sweden, bom A. D. 1683. His whole rei^n wa» 
 one continued scene of warfare. He was killed at the siege of Fredericks- 
 hall, in Norway, December, 1718. 
 
 t A Roman emperor in A. D. 161. 
 
 IJ Marcellus, an eminent Roman, banished by Juliua Ceear to Aaa, and 
 recalled by Augustus Cesar, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 251 
 
 How much, of other, each is sure to cost ; 
 How each, for other, oft is wholly lost ; 
 How inconsistent greater goods with these; 
 How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease : 
 Think. And if still such things thy envy call, 
 Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall? 
 
 8. To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly, 
 Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy. 
 Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life ? 
 Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife. 
 If parts allure thee, think how Bacon* shin'd ; 
 The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind. 
 Or, ravdsh'd Avith the whistling of a name, 
 See Cromwellt damn'd to everlasting fame. 
 If all, united, thy ambition call. 
 From ancient story, learn to scorn them all. 
 
 LESSON CXXIII. 
 
 The Road to Happiness open to all Men. — Pope. 
 
 1. Oh Happiness ! our being's end and aim ! 
 Good, pleasure, ease, content ! Whate'er thy name ; 
 That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, 
 For which we bear to live, or dare to die : 
 
 Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 
 O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise ; 
 Plant of celestial seed, if dropt below. 
 Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow ? 
 
 2. Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shine, 
 Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine ? 
 Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurel yield, 
 Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field ? 
 
 Where grows ? where grows it not ? if vain our toil, 
 We ought to blame the culture, not the soil. 
 
 * Francis Bacon, an English philosopher and statesman, was lx)m 1561, 
 and died 1626. He was one of the greatest geniuses that any age or country 
 has produced. He laid down those principles upon which Newton demon- 
 strated the whole law of nature. He was chosen lord high chancellor of 
 England, but was legally convicted of bribery and corruption, and accused 
 of the most gross and profligate flattery. He spent the last years of his life 
 in study and retirement. 
 
 t Oliver Cromwell, a celebrated English general, was born 1599. He 
 assumed the title of " Protector of the commonwealth of England," 1653. 
 He administered the affairs of the kingdom, for five years, wim great vigor 
 and ability, and died 165S. 
 
252 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere ; 
 
 *Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where ; 
 
 *Tis never to be bought, but always free ; 
 
 And, fled from monarchs, Saint John !* dwells with thee. 
 
 3. Ask of the learn'd the way ? The learn'd are blind ; 
 This bids to serve.) and that to shun mankind ; 
 
 Some place the bliss in action, some in ease ; 
 Those call it pleasure, and contentment these ; 
 Some sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain ; 
 Some swell'd to gods, confess e'en virtue vain ; 
 Or indolent, to each extreme they fall. 
 To trust in every thing, or doubt of all. 
 
 4. Who thus define it, say they more or less 
 Tlian this, — that happiness is happiness ? 
 Take nature's path, and mad opinions leave ; 
 All states can reach it, and all heads conceive : 
 Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell ; 
 There needs but thinking right, and meaning well ; 
 And mourn our various portions as we please, 
 Equal is common sense, and common ease. 
 Remember, man, " the universal cause 
 
 Acts not by partial, but by gen'ral laws ;" 
 And makes what happiness we justly call, 
 Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 
 
 LESSON CXXIV. 
 
 Promdence Vindicated in the Present State of Man. — Pope. 
 
 L Heav'n from all creatures hides the book of fate, 
 All but the page prescrib'd, their present state ; 
 From brutes what men, from men what spirits know ; 
 Or who could suffer being here below ? 
 — The lamb thy riot dooms to-day, 
 Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? 
 Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'ry food, 
 And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. 
 
 • Henry Saint John, Lord Viscount Bolingbroke, a great politician aiid 
 philosopher, was born, 1672. at Battersea, four miles west of London. Aa a 
 writer, Lord Bolingbroke was nervous, elegant, and argumentative, but in 
 his writings he is too often sceptical, and disregards the great truths of reve- 
 lation and of Christianity. He was an intimate friend of Pope, an<i it waj 
 by his persuasion that the Essay on Man was begun and finished. He died 
 lit Battersea, 1751. 
 
TsATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 253 
 
 2. Oh blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, 
 That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n ; 
 Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
 
 A hero perish, or a sparrow fall ; 
 
 Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd. 
 
 And now a bubble burst, and now a world. 
 
 3. Hope humbly then, Avith trembling pinions soar ; 
 Wait the great teacher death ; and God adore. 
 What future bliss he gives not thee to know. 
 
 But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 
 Hope springs eternal in the human breast : 
 Man never is, but always to be blest. 
 The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home, 
 Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 
 
 4. Lo, the poor Indian ! whose untutor'd mind 
 Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
 His soul proud science never taught to stray 
 Far as the Solar Walk or Milky Way ; 
 
 Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n. 
 Behind the cloud-topt hill, a humbler heav'n ; 
 Some safer world in depth of woods embrac'd, 
 Some happier island in the wat'ry waste ; 
 Where slaves once more their native land behold, 
 No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. 
 
 5. To 5e, contents his natural desire ; 
 He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire ; 
 But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
 His faithful dog shall bear him company. 
 
 — Go, wiser thou ! and in thy scale of sense, 
 Weigh thy opinion against Providence ; 
 Call imperfection what thou fanciest such ; 
 Say here he gives too little, there too much — 
 
 6. In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies ; 
 All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. 
 Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes ; 
 
 Men would be angels, angels would be gods. 
 Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell. 
 Aspiring to be angels, men rebel : 
 And who but wishes to invert the laws 
 Of ORDER, sins against th' eternal cause. 
 22 
 
254 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON CXXV. 
 
 The Nature of True Eloquence. — D. Webster. 
 
 \. When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous 
 occasions, when great interests are at stake, and strong passions 
 excited, nothing is valuable in speech, farther than it is con- 
 nected with high intellectual and moral endowments. Clear- 
 ness, force, and earnestness, are the qualities which produce 
 conv-iction. 
 
 2. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. It 
 cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may toil for 
 it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases may be mar- 
 shalled in every way, but they cannot compass it. It must exist 
 in the man, — in the subject, — and in the occasion. 
 
 3. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of decla- 
 mation, all may aspire after it; they cannot reach it. It comes, 
 if it come at all, like the outbreaking of a fountain from the earth, 
 or the bursting forth of volcanic fires, with spontaneous, origi- 
 nal, native force. 
 
 4. The graces taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and 
 studied contrivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when 
 their own lives, and the fate of their wives, their children, and 
 their country, hang on the decision of the hour. 
 
 5. Then, words have lost their power, rhetoric is vain, and 
 all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself then 
 feels rebuked and subdued, as in the presence of higher quali- 
 ties. Then, patriotism is eloquent ; then, self-devotion is 
 eloquent. 
 
 6. The clear conception, out-running the deductions of logic, 
 the high purpose, the firm resolve,the dauntless spirit, speaking 
 on the tongue, beaming from the eye, informing every feature, 
 and urging the whole man onward, right onward, to his object 
 — this, this is eloquence; or, rather, it is something greater and 
 higher than all eloquence, — it is action, noble, sublime, godlike 
 action. 
 
 LESSON CXXVL 
 
 The Perfect Orator. — Sheridan. 
 
 1. Imagine to yourselves a Demosthenes,* addressing the 
 most illustrious assembly in the world, upon a point whereon 
 
 ♦ Pronounced De-mos'-the-nees, the famous Grecian orator. He was 
 bom at Athens, 381 B. C. Though neglected by his guardians, and imped- 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 255 
 
 the fate of the most illustrious of nations depended — How awful 
 such a meeting ! iiow vast the subject ! — Is man possessed of 
 t*ilents adequate to the great occasion ? — Adequate ! Yes, su- 
 perior. 
 
 2. By the power of his eloquence, the augustness of the 
 assembly is lost in the dignity of the orator: and the importance 
 of the subject, for a while, superseded by the admiration of his 
 talents. 
 
 3. With what strength of argument, with what powers of the 
 fancy, with what emotions of the heart, does he assault and sub- 
 jugate the whole man ; and, at once, captivate his reason, his 
 
 imagination, and his passions ! To effect this, must be the 
 
 utmost effort of the most improved state of human nature. 
 
 4. Not a faculty that he possesses, is here unemployed ; not 
 a faculty that he possesses, but is here exerted to its highest 
 pitch. All his internal powers are at work ; all his external, 
 testify their energies. 
 
 5. Within, the memory, the fancy, the judgment, the pas- 
 sions, are all busy: without, every muscle, every nerve is exert- 
 ed ; not a feature, not a limb, but speaks. The organs of the 
 body, attuned to the exertions of the mind, through the kindred 
 organs of the hearers, instantaneously vibrate those energies 
 froir soul to soul. 
 
 6. ^Notwithstanding the diversity of minds in such a multi- 
 tude ; by the lightning of eloquence, they are melted into one 
 mass — the whole assembly, actuated in one and the same way, 
 become, as it were, but one man, and have but one voice — The 
 universal cry is — Let us march against Philip,* — let ua 
 
 FIGHT FOR OUR LIBERTIES LET US CONQUER, OR DIE I 
 
 LESSON CXXVII. 
 
 Rolla^s Address to the Peruvians. — Sheridan. 
 
 1. My brave associates, partners of my toil, my feelings, and 
 my fame ! Can Rolla's words add vigfor to the virtuous energies 
 
 ed in his education by weakness of lungs and an inarticulate pronunciation, — 
 his assiduity overcame all obstacles, and enabled him to become the most 
 illustrious and eloquent orator of antiquit3^ The abilities of Demosthenes 
 raised him to the head of the government in Athens. He roused his coun- 
 trymen from their indolence, and incited them to oppose the encroachments 
 of Philip, kincr of Macedon. and his son, Alexander the Great. Antipater, 
 the successor of Alexander, demanded all the Athenian orators to be deliv- 
 ered up to him, — and Demosthenes, seeing no hope of safety, destroyed 
 himself by poison, B. C, 322. 
 
 * Philip, king of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great 
 
256 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 which inspire your hearts ? No — you have judged as / have, 
 the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders 
 would delude you. — Your generous spirit has compared, as 
 mine has, the motives, which in a war like this, can animate 
 their minds, and ours. 
 
 2. TAey, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for 
 plunder <f and extended rule — we, for our country, our altars, 
 and our homes. — They follow an adventurer whom they /ear, 
 and obey a power which they hate — we serve a monarch whom 
 we love — a God whom we adore. 
 
 3. Whenever they move in anger, desolation tracks their 
 progress ! Whenever they pause in amity, affliction mourns 
 their friendship ! They boast they come but to improve our 
 state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error! 
 Yes — they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are 
 themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. 
 
 4. They offer us their protection — Yes, such protection as 
 vultures give to lanibs — covering and devouring them ! They 
 call on us to barter all of good we have inherited and proved 
 for the desperate chance of something better, which they pro- 
 mise. Be our plain answer this : — 
 
 5. The throne we honor, is the people^s choice — the laws we 
 reverence are our brave father's legacy — the faith we follow 
 teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die 
 in hopes of bliss beyond the grave. Tell your invaders this ; 
 and tell them too, we seek no change ; and least of all, such 
 change as they would bring us. 
 
 LESSON CXXVIIL 
 
 The Hermit. — Beattie. 
 
 1. At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, 
 
 And mortals the sweets of forgetful ness prove ; 
 When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill, 
 
 And nought but the nightingale's song in the grove ; 
 'Twas thus by the cave of the mountain afar. 
 
 While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit* began 
 No more with himself or with nature at war, 
 
 He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man. 
 
 * Hermit, a person who retires from society and lives in solitude. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 257 
 
 2. " Ah ! why, all abandon'd to darkness and wo ; 
 
 Why lone Philomela,* that languishing fall ? 
 For spring shall return, and a lover bestow, 
 
 And sorrow no longer thy bosom enthral. 
 But if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay. 
 
 Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls'" thee to mourn; 
 O soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass away ; 
 
 Full quickly they pass— but they never return. 
 
 3. "Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, 
 
 The moon half extinguish'd her crescent displays : 
 But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high 
 
 She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. 
 Roll on, thou fair orb, and -with gladness pursue 
 
 The path that conducts thee to splendor again : 
 But man's faded glory what change shall renew ! 
 
 Ah fool ! to exult in a glory so vain ! 
 
 4. " 'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more : 
 
 I mourn, but ye woodlands, 1 mourn not for you ; 
 For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, 
 
 Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glitt'ring with dew. 
 Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn ; 
 
 Kind nature the embryo blossom will save : 
 But wlien shall spring visit the mouldering urn ! 
 
 O when shall day dawn on the night of the grave ! 
 
 5. " 'Twas thus by the glare of false science betray'd, 
 
 That leads to bewilder ; and dazzles to blind ; 
 My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to shade, 
 
 Destruction before me, and sorrow behind. 
 O pity, Great Father of light, then I cry'd. 
 
 Thy creature, who fain would not wander from thee ! 
 Lo ! humbled in dust, I relinquisli my pride : 
 
 From doubt and from darkness thou only canst free. 
 
 6. " And darkness and doubt are now flying away ; 
 
 No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn ; 
 So breaks on the traveller, faint and astray, 
 
 The bright and the balmy efiulgence of morn. 
 See truth, love, and mercy, in triumph descending, 
 
 And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ! 
 On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses are blending, 
 
 And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb." 
 
 * Phi-lo-me'-lii, a niglitingale. 
 22* 
 
258 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON CXXIX. 
 
 Tke Mariner^ s Dream. — Dimond. 
 
 1. In slumbers of midnight the sailor boy lay, 
 
 His hammoc* swung loose at the sport of the wind ; 
 But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, 
 And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. 
 
 2. He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers, 
 
 And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn ; 
 While memory each scene gayly covered with flowers. 
 And restored every rose, but secreted its thorn. 
 
 3. Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide, 
 
 And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise ; — 
 Now far, far behind him, the green waters glide. 
 And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. 
 
 4. The jessamin! clambers in flowers o'er the thatch. 
 
 And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall; 
 All trembling with transport, he raises the latch. 
 And the voices of loved ones reply to his call. 
 
 5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight ; 
 
 His cheek is impearled witli a mother's warm tear ; 
 And the lips of the l)oy in a love-kiss unite 
 
 With the lips of the maid, whom his bosom holds dear. 
 
 6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast, 
 
 Joy quickens his pulses, his hardships seem o'er : 
 And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest — 
 " O God ! thou hast blessed me ; I ask for no more." 
 
 7. Ah ! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye ? 
 
 Ah ! what is that sound which now larums his ear ? 
 'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky ! 
 'Tis the crushing of thunders, the groan of the sphere! 
 
 8. He springs from his hammoc — he flies to the deck — 
 
 Amazement confronts him with images dire — 
 Wild winds and mad waves drive tlie vessel awreck — 
 The masts fly in splinters — the shrouds are on fire ! 
 
 9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell : 
 
 In vain the lost wretch calls on mercy to save ; 
 
 * Hammoc, a kind of hani^ing bed, sus{>ended by hooks, on board ships, 
 t Jessamin, a plant bearing beautiful flowers. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 259 
 
 Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell, 
 And the death-angel flaps his broad wing o'er the wave ! 
 
 10. O sailor boy ! wo to thy dream of delight ! 
 
 In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss. 
 Where now is the picture that fancy touched bright, 
 Thy parents' fond pressure and love's honied kiss. 
 
 11. O sailor boy ! sailor boy ! never again 
 
 Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay ; 
 Unblessed, and unhonored, down deep in the main 
 Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 
 
 12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee, 
 
 Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge ; 
 But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, 
 And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge ! 
 
 13. On a bed of green sea-flower thy limbs shall be laid ; 
 
 Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow ; 
 . Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, 
 And every part suit to thy mansion below. 
 
 14. Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away. 
 
 And still the vast waters above thee shall roll ; 
 Earth loses thy pattern for ever and aye : — J 
 
 O sailor boy ! sailor boy ! peace to thy soul ! 
 
 LESSON CXXX. 
 
 Verses supposed to be xoritten hy Alexander Selkirk, during his 
 solitary abode in the Island of Juan Fernandez* — Cowper. 
 
 1. I AM monarch of all I survey. 
 
 My right there is none to dispute ; 
 From the centre, all round to the sea, 
 
 I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 
 O solitude ! where are the charms, 
 
 That sages have seen in thy face ? 
 Better dwell in the midst of alarms. 
 
 Than reign in this horrible place. 
 
 * The island of Juan Fernandez lies to the west of South America, about 
 three hundred miles from the coast of Chili. Alexander Selkirk, a seaman, 
 a native of Scotland, was put ashore by his captain, and left in this solitary 
 place, where he lived several years. This gave rise to the celebrated ro- 
 mance of Robinson Crusoe. 
 
260 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. I am out of humanity's reach, 
 
 I must finish my journey alone ; 
 Never hear the sweet music of speech ; 
 
 I start at the sound of my own. 
 The beasts that roam over the plain, 
 
 My form with indifference see : 
 They are so unacquainted with man, 
 
 Their lameness is shocking to me. 
 
 3. Society, friendship, and love, 
 
 Divinely bestowed upon man, 
 Oh had I the wings of a dove, 
 
 How soon would I taste you again ! 
 My sorrows I then might assuage 
 
 in the ways of religion and truth ; 
 Might learn from the wisdom of age, 
 
 And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. 
 
 4. Religion ! what treasure untold 
 
 Resides in that heavenly word ! 
 More precious than silver or gold. 
 
 Or all that this earth can afford. 
 But the sound of the church-going bell 
 
 These valleys and rocks never heard ; 
 Ne'er sigh'd at the sound of a knell, 
 
 Or smiled when a sabbath appear'd. 
 
 5. Ye winds that have made me your sport, 
 
 Convey to this desolate shore, 
 Some cordial endearing report 
 
 Of a land I shall visit no more. 
 My friends, do they now and then send 
 
 A wish or a thouoht after me ? 
 O tell me I yet have a friend. 
 
 Though a friend I am never to see. 
 
 6. How fleet is a glance of the mind ! 
 
 Compar'd with the speed of its flight. 
 The tempest itself lags behind, 
 
 And the swift-winij'd arrows of liffht. 
 When I think of my own native land, 
 
 In a moment I seem to be there ; 
 But, alas ! recollection at hand 
 
 Soon hurries me back to despair. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 261 
 
 7. But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest, 
 
 The beast is laid down in his lair ;* 
 Even here is a season of rest, 
 
 And I to my cabin repair. 
 There's mercy in every place ; 
 
 And mercy — encouraging thought, 
 Gives even affliction a grace, 
 
 And reconciles man to his lot. 
 
 LESSON CXXXL 
 
 The Hermit. — Parnell. 
 
 L.Far in a wild, unknown to public view, 
 From youth to age a rev'rend hermit grew. 
 The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell. 
 His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well ; 
 Remote from man, with God he pass'd the days. 
 Prayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. 
 
 2. A life so sacred, such serene repose, 
 Seem'd heaven itself, till one suggestion rose : 
 That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey ; 
 Thus sprung some doubt of Providence's sway. 
 His hopes no more a certain prospect boast. 
 And all the tenor of his soul is lost. 
 
 3. So, when a smooth expanse receives, imprest 
 Calm nature's image on its wat'ry breast, 
 
 Down bend the banks ; the trees, depending, grow ; 
 And skies, beneath, with ansv/'ring colors glow : 
 But if a stone the gentle sea divide. 
 Swift ruffling circles curl on ev'ry side ; 
 And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun, 
 Banks, trees and skies in thick disorder run. 
 
 4. To clear this doubt ; to know the world by sight ; 
 To find if books or swains report it right ; 
 
 (For yet by swains alone the world he knew. 
 Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew,) 
 He quits his cell ; the pilgrim staff he bore. 
 And fix'd the scallopf in his hat before ; 
 Then, with the sun a rising journey went, 
 Sedate to think, and watching each event. 
 
 * Lair, the bed or couch of a wild beast. 
 
 t Scallop, a shell, carried by pilgrims in their hat, with which they dipped 
 water to quench their thirst when travelling, 
 
262 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 5. The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, 
 And long and lonesome was the wild to pass : 
 But when the southern sun had warm'd the day, 
 A youth came posting o'er the crossing way ; 
 His raiment decent, his complexion fair, 
 
 And soft, in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. 
 
 6. Then near approaching, " Father, hail !" he cry*d ; 
 " And hail ! my son," the rev'rend sire reply'd : 
 Words follow'd words ; from question answer llowM ; 
 And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road ; 
 
 Till, each with other pleas'd, and loth to part. 
 While in their age they differ, join in heart. 
 Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound ; 
 Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around. 
 
 7. Now sunk the sun ; the closing hour of day 
 Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray ; 
 Nature, in silence, bid the world repose ; 
 When, near the road, a stately palace rose : 
 
 There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, 
 Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass. 
 
 8. It chanced the noble master of the dome 
 
 Still made his house the wand'ring stranger's home : 
 Yet still, the kindness, from a thirst of praise, 
 Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease. 
 The pair arrive ; the liv'ry'd servants wait, 
 Their lord receives them at the pompous gate ; 
 A table groans with costly piles of food ; 
 And all is more than hosjutably good. 
 Then, led to rest, the day's long toil they drown. 
 Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. 
 
 9. At length 'tis morn ; and at the dawn of day, 
 Along the wide canals the zej)hyrs* play; 
 
 Fresh o'er the gay parterres,! the breezes creep, 
 And shake the neighb'ring wood, to banish sleep. 
 Up rise the guests obedient to the call ; 
 An early banquet deck'd the sj)lendid hall ; 
 Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd. 
 Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste. 
 
 10. Then, pleas'd and thankful, from the porch they go; 
 And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe; 
 
 His cup was vanish'd ; for in secret guise, 
 
 The younger guest purloin'dj the glitt'ring prize. 
 
 ♦ A calm soft wind. t A flower bed. t Purloin, to steal. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 263 
 
 As one who sees a serpent in his way, 
 GHst'ning and basking in the summer ray, 
 Disorder'd stops to shun the danger near, 
 Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear; 
 So seem'd the sire, when, far upon the road, 
 The shining spoil his wily partner show'd. " 
 
 11. He stopt with silence, walk'd with trembling heart, 
 And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part : 
 Murm'ring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard, 
 
 That gen'rous actions meets a base reward. 
 While thus they pass tho sun his glory shrouds : 
 The chanorino- skies hang; out their sable clouds : 
 A sound in air presag'd approaching rain. 
 And beasts to covert scud across the plain, 
 
 12. Warn'd by the signs the wand'ring pair retreat. 
 To seek for shelter in a neighb'ring seat, 
 
 *Twas built with turrets on a rising ground ; 
 And strong and large, and unimprov'd around : 
 Its owner's temper, tim'rous and severe. 
 Unkind and griping, caus'd a desert there. 
 
 13. As near the miser's heavy doors they drew. 
 Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew ; 
 
 The nimble lightning, mix'd with showers began, 
 And o'er their heads loud rolling thunder ran. 
 Here long tliey knock ; but knock or call in vain. 
 Driven by the wind, and batter'd by the rain. 
 
 14. At length some pity warm'd the master's breast: 
 ('Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest ;) 
 Slow creaking turns the door, with jealous care, 
 
 And half he Avelcomes in the shiv'ring pair. 
 One frugal faggot lights the naked walls. 
 And nature's fervor through their limbs recalls ; 
 Bread of the coarsest sort, with meagre wine, 
 (Each hardly granted,) serv'd them both to dine ; 
 And when the tempest first appear'd to cease, 
 A ready warning bid them part in peace. 
 
 15. With still remark, the pond'ring hermit view'd. 
 In one so rich, a life so poor and rude : 
 
 " And why should such," within himself he cry'd, 
 ** Lock the lost wealth, a thousand Avant beside ?" 
 But what new marks of wonder soon took place, 
 In every settling feature of his face, 
 Wlien from his vest, the young companion bore 
 That cup, the gen'rous landlord own'd before, 
 
264 * NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 And paid profusely with the precious bowl, 
 The stinted kindness of his churlish soul ! 
 
 16. But, now the clouds in airy tumult fly ; 
 The sun, emerging, opes an azure sky ; 
 
 A fresher green the smelling leaves display, 
 And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the day : 
 The weather courts them from the poor retreat ; 
 And the glad master bolts the wary gate. 
 
 17. While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrought 
 With all the travail of uncertain thought. 
 
 His partner's acts without their cause appear — 
 'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a madness here. 
 Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, 
 Lost and confounded m itli the various shows. 
 
 18. Now night's dim shades again involve the sky — 
 Again the wanderers want a place to lie — 
 
 Again they search, and find a lodging nigh — 
 The soil improv'd around — the mansion neat — 
 And neither poorly low, nor idly great : 
 It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind — 
 Content, and not for praise, but virtue, kind. 
 Hither the walkers turn with weary feet ; 
 Then bless the mansion, and the master greet; 
 Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise, 
 The courteous master hears, and thus replies. 
 
 19. " Without a vain, without a grudging heart, 
 To him who gives us all, I yield a part : 
 
 From him you come, from him accept it here — 
 A frank and sober, more than costly cheer." 
 He spoke ; and bade the welcome table spread ; 
 Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed ; 
 When the grave household round his hall repair, 
 Warn'd by the bell, and close the hours with prayer. 
 
 20. At len<rth the world, renew'd by calm repose, 
 Was strong for toil ; the dappled morn arose ; 
 Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept 
 
 Near the clos'd cradle where an infant slept, 
 
 And writh'd* his neck ; the landlord's little pride — 
 
 O strange return ! — grew black, and gasp'd and died. 
 
 Horror of horrors ! what ! his only son ! 
 
 How l(X)k'd our hermit when the deed was done ! 
 
 Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part, 
 
 And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. 
 
 ♦ Writhe, to twist with violence. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 265 
 
 21. Confus'd, and struck with silence at the deed. 
 He flies : but trembling, fails to fly with speed. 
 His steps the youth pursues. The country lay 
 Perplex'd with roads ; a servant show'd the way. 
 A river cross'd the path. The passage o'er 
 
 Was nice to find ; the servant trod before ^ 
 Long arms of oak an open bridge supply'd, 
 And the deep waves, beneath the bending, glide. 
 The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, 
 Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in : 
 Plunging, he falls ; and rising, lifts his head ; 
 Then flashing, turns, and sinks among the dead. 
 
 22. Wild sparkUng rage inflames the father's eyes ; 
 He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, 
 
 " Detested wretch !" But scarce his speech began, 
 
 When the strange partner seem'd no longer man ; 
 His youthful face grew more serenely sweet, 
 His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet ; 
 Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair, 
 Celestial odors breathe tlirough purpled air ; 
 And wings, whose colors glitter'd on the day, 
 Wide at his back, their gradual plumes display. 
 The form ethereal bursts upon his sight, 
 And moves in all the majesty of light. 
 
 23. Though loud, at first, the pilgrims passion grew, 
 Sudden he gaz'd, and wist* not what to do ; 
 Surprise in secret chains, his words suspends. 
 
 And, in a calm, his settled temper ends. 
 But silence here, the beauteous angel broke : 
 The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke : 
 
 24. " Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life, to vice unkno^vn. 
 In sweet memorial rise before the throne : 
 
 These charms success in our bright region find. 
 And force an angel down to calm thy mind. 
 For this commission' d, I forsook the sky ; 
 Nay, cease to kneel, thy fellow servant I. 
 
 25. " Then know the truth of government divine, 
 And let these scruples be no longer thine. 
 
 The Maker justly claims that world he made ; 
 In this the right of providence is laid : 
 Its sacred majesty, through all, depends 
 On using second means to work his ends. 
 
 ♦ Wist, knew. 
 
 33 
 
^GQ NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 'Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, 
 The Power exerts his attributes on high ; 
 Your actions uses, nor controls your will, 
 And bids the doubting sons of men be still. 
 
 26. " What strange events can strike with more surprise, 
 Than those which lately struck thy wond'ring eyes ? 
 
 Yet taught by these, confess the Almighty just, 
 And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust. 
 
 27. " The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food, 
 Whose life was too luxurious to be good ; 
 
 Who made his ivory stand with goblets ^^hine. 
 And forced his guests to morning draughts of wine ; 
 Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, 
 Yet still he welcomes, but with less of cost. 
 
 28. " The mean suspicious wretcli, whose bolted door 
 Ne'er moved in pity to the wand'ring poor ; 
 
 With him I left the cup, to teach his mind. 
 That heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. 
 Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, 
 And feels compassion touch his churlish soul. 
 Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, 
 With heaping coals of fire upon its head : 
 In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, 
 And loose from dross, the silver runs below. 
 
 29. " Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, 
 But now the child half wean'd his heart from God ; 
 (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain. 
 
 And measured back his ntcps to earth again. 
 To what excesses had his dotage run ? 
 But God, to save the father, took the son. 
 To all, but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, 
 And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow. 
 The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust. 
 Now owns, in tears, the punishment was just. 
 
 30. " But how had all his fortune felt a wreck. 
 Had that false servant sped in safety back ! 
 This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal, 
 And what a fund of charity would fail ! 
 
 Thus heaven instructs thy mind. This trial o'er. 
 Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more." 
 
 3L On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew. 
 The sage stood wond'ring as the seraph flew. 
 Thus look'd Elisha, when to mount on high, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 267 
 
 His master took the chariot of the sky:* 
 The fiery pomp, ascending, left the view ; 
 The prophet gaz'd and wish'd to follow too. 
 The bending hermit here a prayer begun : 
 " Lord, as in heaven, on earth thy will be done." 
 Then, gladly turning, sought his ancient place, 
 And pass'd a life of piety and peace. 
 
 LESSON CXXXII. 
 
 Character of William Pitt.j Earl of Chatham. — Anonymous. 
 
 1. The secretary stood alone. Modern degeneracy had not 
 reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of 
 his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His august mind 
 overawed majesty ; and one of his sovereigns thought majesty 
 so impaired in his presence, that he conspired to remove him, 
 in order to be relieved from his superiority. No state chicanery 
 — no narrow system of vicious politics — no idle contest for 
 ministerial victories, sunk him to the vulgar level of the great — 
 but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his object was 
 England ; his ambition was fame. 
 
 2. Without dividing, he destroyed party ; without corrupt- 
 ing, he made a venal age unanimous. France sunk beneath 
 him. With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, and 
 wielded, in the other^ the democracy of England. The sight 
 of his mind ^vas infinite ; and his schemes were to affect, not 
 England — not the present age only — hut Europe a.nd posteri- 
 ty. Wonderful were the means by which these schemes were 
 accomplished — always seasonable — always adequate — the sug- 
 gestions of an understanding, animated by ardor, and enlight- 
 ened by prophecy. 
 
 3. The ordinary feelings which made life amiable and indo- 
 lent — those sensations which soften, allure, and vulgarize, were 
 unknown to him. No domestic difiiculties — no domestic weak- 
 ness, reached him — but aloof from the sordid occurrences of 
 life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into 
 our system to counsel and to decide. 
 
 4. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, so author- 
 itative, astonished a corrupt age, and the Treasury trembled at 
 the name of Pitt, through all her classes of venality. Corrup- 
 
 * See 2d Kings, chap. ii. 
 
 t William Pitt, an illustrious English Btatesiiirm, born in 1708, and died 
 1778, aged 70. 
 
268 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 tion imagined^ indeed, that she had found defects in this states- 
 man, and talked much of the inconsistency of his glory, and 
 much of the ruin of his victories — but the history of his coun- 
 try, and the calamities of the enemy, answered, and refuted her. 
 
 5. Nor were his political abilities his only talents. His 
 eloquence was an era in the Senate, peculiar and spontaneous, 
 familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments and instructive wis- 
 dom; not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid con- 
 flagration of Tully, it resembled someimies the thunder,, and 
 sometimes the music of the spheres. Like Murray,* he did 
 not conduct the understanding through tl.e painful subtlety of 
 argumentation; nor was he, likeTownsend, for ever on the rack 
 oi exertion; but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached 
 the point by the flashings of his mind, which, like those of his 
 eye, were felt , but could not he followed. 
 
 6. Upon the whole, there was in this man something that 
 could create,, subvert, or reform — an understanding — a sp?iit 
 and an eloquence to summon mankind to society, or to break 
 the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wilderness of free 
 minds with unbounded authority ; something that could estab- 
 lish or overwhelm empires, and strike a blow in the world that 
 should resound through the universe. 
 
 LESSON cxxxin. 
 
 Character of the Puritans. — Edinburgh Review. 
 
 1. The Puritansf were men whose minds had derived a 
 peculiar character from the daily contemplation of superior 
 beings and eternal interests. Not content with acknowledging, 
 in general terms, an overruling Providence, they habitually as- 
 
 * William Murrav, Earl of Mansfield, was born at Perth, in Scotland, 
 1705. He was an eminent lawyer, and celebrated for integrity, wisdom, and 
 discernment. He tiled 171)3. 
 
 t Puritans, the lir»t s«'ttlers of New-England. They were dissenters from 
 the established church, ami obtained the name of Puritans, from the supe- 
 rior purity and sim))licity of the modes of worship to which they adhered. 
 Being persecuted in England, a small number removed to Leydcn, in Hol- 
 land. After residing several years in that city, they resolved to leave it, 
 and seek an as\luin in the wilderness of America, where they might wor- 
 ship God agreeably to the dictates of their own consciences. On the 22d 
 of Deceml>er, 1620, they landed on a desolate coast, where they inmiedi- 
 ati?ly erected huts, and called the place Plymouth. Their number amount- 
 ed to 101. They suffered incredible hardshii)s from the inclemency of the 
 season, want of provisions, and suitable dwellings, and during the winter, 
 one half of their number perished. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 269 
 
 cribed every event to the will of the Great Being, for whosife 
 power nothing was too vast, for whose inspection nothing was 
 too minute. To know him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was 
 with them the great end of existence. 
 
 2. Tliey rejected with contempt the ceremonious homage 
 which other sects substituted for the pure worship of the soul. 
 Instead of catching occasional glimpses of. the Deity through 
 an obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on the intolerable 
 brightness, and to commune with him face to face. Hence 
 originated their contempt for terrestrial distinctions. 
 
 .3. The difference between the greatest and meanest of man- 
 kind seemed to vanish, when compared with the boundless in- 
 terval which separated the whole race from him on whom their 
 own eyes were constantly fixed. They recognized no title to 
 superiority biit his favor ; and, confident of that favor, they 
 despised all the accomplishments and all the dignities of the 
 world. If they were unacquainted with the works of philoso- 
 phers and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. 
 
 4. If their names were not found in the registers of heralds, 
 they felt assured that tliey were recorded in the Book of Life. 
 If their steps were not accompanied by a splendid train oi 
 menials, legions of ministering angels had charge over them. 
 Their palaces were houses not made with hands ; their diadems 
 crowns of glory which should never fade away ! 
 
 5. On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, they 
 looked down with contempt; for they esteemed themselves rich 
 in a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more sublime 
 language, — nobles by the right of an earlier creation, — and, 
 priests by the imposition of a mightier hand. 
 
 6. The very meanest of them was a being to whose fate a 
 mysterious and terrible importance belonged — on whose slight- 
 est action the spirits of light and darkness looked with anxiosn 
 interest, wKo had been destined, before heaven and earth were 
 created, to enjoy a felicity which should continue when heaven 
 and earth should have passed away. Events which short-sight- 
 ed politicians ascribed to earthly causes, had been ordained on 
 his account. 
 
 7. For his sake empires had risen, and flourished, and decay- 
 ed. For his sake the Almighty had proclaimed his will by the 
 pen of the evangelist, and the harp of the prophet. He had 
 been rescued by no common deliverer from the grasp of no 
 common foe. He had been ransomed by the sweat of no vulgar 
 agony, by the blood of no earthly sacrifice. It was for him. that 
 tlie sun had been darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that 
 
 23* 
 
270 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 the dead had arisen, that all nature had shuddered at the suffer- 
 ings of her expiring; God !* 
 
 8. Thus the Puritan was made up of two different men, the 
 one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion; the other 
 proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He prostrated himself in 
 the dust before his Maker ; but he set his foot on the neck of 
 his king. In liis devotional retirement, he prayed with convul- 
 sions, and groans and tears. He was half maddened by glori- 
 ous or terrible illusions. He heard the lyres of angels or the 
 tempting whispers of fiends. He caught a gleam of the beatilic 
 vision, or woke screaminof from dreams of everlasting hre. 
 
 9. Like Yane,! he thought himself intrusted with the sceptre 
 of the millennial year. Like Fleetwood,^ he cried in the bitter- 
 ness of his soul that God had hid his face from him. But, when 
 he took his seat in the council, or girt on his sword for war, 
 these tempestous workings of the soul had left no perceptible 
 traces behind them. Peo])le who saw nothing of the godly but 
 their uncouth visages, and lieard nothing from them but their 
 groans and their hymns, might Jaugh at them. But those had 
 little reason to laus:h who encountered them in the hall of de- 
 bate, or in the field of battle. 
 
 10. Tlie Puritans brought to civil and military affaii-s, a cool- 
 ness of judgment, and an iumiutid^ility of purpose, which some 
 v.'riters have thought inconsistent with their relijrious zeal, but 
 which were in fact the necessary effects of it. The intensity of 
 their feelings on one subject made them tranquil on every other 
 One overpowering sentiment had subjected to itself pity and 
 hatred, ambition and fear. Deatli had lost iis terrors, and 
 pleasure its charms. 
 
 11. Thev had their smiles and their tears, their raptures and 
 their sorrows, but not for the tilings of this world. Enthusiasm 
 liad made them stoics, had cleared their minds from every vul- 
 gar passion and prejudice, and raised them above the inlluence 
 of danger and of corrupu«jn. It sometimes might lead them 
 to pursue imwise ends, but never to choose unwise means. 
 
 1*2. We acknowledge that the tone of their minds was often 
 injured by straining after thini{s too high for mortal reach: And 
 we know that, in spite of their hatred of popery, they too often 
 
 * Sec St. !Matihc'\v, chap, xxvii. 45 — 55. 
 
 t Sir Honrv Vane, an Englisli statesman, ami a political and theological 
 writer, was beheaded on a chartre of trea.<;cn, in IGlhJ. 
 
 t William Fleetwood, an English bishop, was born in ndon^ 656, and 
 died 1723. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 271 
 
 fell into the vices of that bad system, intolerance and extrava- 
 gant austerity. Yet, when all circumstances are taken into 
 consideration, we do not hesitate to pronounce them a brave, 
 a wise, an honest, and an useful body. 
 
 LESSON CXXXIV. 
 
 Character of Washington* — Phillips. 
 
 \. No matter what may be the birth-place of such a man as 
 Washington. No climate can claim, no country can appro- 
 priate him — the boon of Providence to the human race — his 
 fame is eternity, — his residence creation. Though it was the 
 defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost 
 bless the convulsion in which he had his origin : if the heavens 
 thundered and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm passed, 
 how pure was the climate that it cleared — How bright in the 
 brow of the firmament was the planet it revealed to us! In the 
 production of Washington, it does really appear as if nature was 
 endeavoring to improve upon herself, and that all the virtue? of 
 the ancient world were but so many studies preparatory to the 
 patriot of the new. 
 
 2. Individual instances, no doubt, there were; splendid ex- 
 emplifications of some single qualification — Ca^sarf was merciful 
 — Scipiof was continent,— Iiannibal| was patient, — but it was 
 reserved for Washington to blend them all in one, and like the 
 lovely master-piece of the Grecian artist, to exhibit in one glow 
 of associated beauty, the pride of every model, and the perfec- 
 tion of every master. 
 
 * Goorge Washington, the commander of the American army in the war 
 of the. revolution, and the tirst ])resident of the United States, was the son 
 of Augustine Washington, of Virginia. He was born February 22d, 1732. 
 At the age of 19, he was appointed an Adjutant-General of Virginia, with 
 the rank of Major, and during the French and Indian wars which imme- 
 diately followed, he was actively engaged in defending the frontiers of his 
 native state. In 1775, when the United Colonies determined to resist the 
 Piritish claims, Washington was unanimously appointed to the command of 
 the American army. He accepted the olfice with great diffidence, and de- 
 clined any 'pecuniary cmn'pensalion for his services, desiring only that his 
 expenses should be defrayed by the public. He immediately entered upon 
 his duties, and during the whole of the revolutionary war and the establish- 
 ing of the independence of the United States, under the most distres.sing 
 and discouraging circumstances, he manifested the most determined resolu- 
 tion, fortitude, and intrepidity. He was the tirst president, chosen in 1789, 
 which office he held eight years. He died December 14th, 171^9, universal- 
 ly honored, esteemed, and beloved. 
 
 t A Roman General. t A Carthaginian General. 
 
2r2 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. As a General, he marshalled the peasant into a veteran, 
 and supplied by discipline the absence of experience. As a 
 statesman, he enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the most 
 comprehensive system of general advantage; and such was the 
 wisdom of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, that 
 to the soldier and the statesman, he almost added the character 
 of the sage. 
 
 4. A conqueror, he M'-as untainted with the crime of blood — 
 a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of treason ; for ag- 
 gression commenced the contest, and a country called him to 
 the command — liberty unsheathed his sword — necessity stained, 
 victory returned it. If he had paused here, history might doubt 
 what station to assign him ; whether at the head of her citizens 
 or her soldiers — her heroes or her patriots. But the last glorious 
 act crowned his career, and banishes hesitation. Who, like 
 Washington, after having freed a country, resigned her crown, 
 and retired to a cottage rather than reign in a capitol ! 
 
 5. Immortal man ! He took from the battle its crime, and 
 from the conquest its chains — he left the victorious the glor>" of 
 his self-denial, and turned upon the vanquished only the retri- 
 bution of his mercy. Happy, proud America! The lightnings 
 of heaven yielded to your philosophy !* — The temptations of 
 earth could not seduce your patriotism ! 
 
 LESSON CXXXV. 
 
 Stanzas addressed to the Greeks. — Anonymous. 
 
 1. On, on, to the just aud glorious strife! 
 
 With your swords your freedom shielding: 
 Nay, resign, if it must be so, even life : 
 But die, at least, unyielding. 
 
 2. On to tlie strife ! for 'twere far more meet 
 
 To sink with the foes who bay you. 
 Than crouch, like dogs, at your tyrants' feet, 
 And smile on the swords tlial slay you. 
 
 3. Shall the pagan slaves be masters, then, 
 
 Of the land which your fathers gave you? 
 Shall the Inlidel lord it o'er Christian men, 
 When your own good swords may save you ? 
 
 * Alludini^ to Dr. Franklin's discoveries in electricity, — particularly the 
 piveiiition of lightning rods. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 273 
 
 . No ! let him feel that their arms are strong, — 
 
 That their courage will fail them never, — 
 Who strike to repay long years of wrong, 
 And bury past shame for ever. 
 
 5. Let him know there are hearts, however bowed 
 
 By the chains which he threw around them, 
 That will rise, like a spirit from pall and shroud. 
 And cry " wo !" to the slaves who bound them. 
 
 6. Let him learn how weak is a tyrant's might 
 
 Against liberty's sword contending ; 
 And find how the sons of Greece can fight, 
 Their freedom and land defending. 
 
 7. Then on ! then on to the glorious strife ! 
 
 With your swords your country shielding ; 
 And resign, if it must be so, even life ; 
 But die, at least, unyielding. 
 
 8. Strike ! for the sires who left you free ! 
 
 Strike ! for their sakes who bore you ! 
 Strike ! for your homes and liberty, 
 And the heaven you worship o'er you ! 
 
 LESSON CXXXVL 
 
 Song of the Greeks, 1822. — 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 ijet 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 forefathers' 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 
 
 * Mah-o-inct, a celebrated impostor, born at Mecca, A. D, 57i, and died 
 A. D. 632. 
 
274 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Are stretched in our aid ? — Be the combat our own ! 
 
 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 altars, 
 
 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 ingulph — 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 hre on the waves^ 
 
 And new triumphs on la'nd are before us. 
 
 To the charge ! — Heaven's banner is o'er us. 
 
 4. This day — shall ye blush for its story ? 
 
 Or brighten your lives with its glory ? — 
 Our women — Oh, 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 
 Beings sprung from, and named for, the godlike of earth. 
 
 Strike home ! — and the world shall revere us 
 
 As heroes descended from heroes. 
 
 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 Ninef shall new-hallow their Helicon's spring. 
 Our hearths shall be kindled in gladness, 
 That were cold and extinguished in sadness ; 
 Whilst our maidens shall dance with their white waving arms, 
 Singing joy to the brave that delivered their charms. 
 When the blood of yon Mussulman cravens 
 Shall have crimsoned the beaks of our ravens. 
 
 • Fane, a temple. t The Nine Muaee. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 275 
 
 LESSON CXXXVII. 
 
 JVarren^s* Address to the American Soldiers, before the Battle 
 of Bunker'' s Hill. — Pierpont. 
 
 1. Stand ! the g^round's your own, my ^braves ! 
 Will ye give it np to slaves ? 
 
 Will ye look for greener graves ? 
 
 Hope ye mercy still ? 
 What's the mercy despots feel ! 
 Hear it in that battle peal ! 
 Read it on yon bristling steel ! 
 
 Ask it — ye who will. 
 
 2. Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? 
 Will yon to your homes retire ? 
 Look behind you ! they're afire ! 
 
 And, before you, see 
 Who have done it ! — From the vale 
 On they come ! — and will ye quail ? 
 Leaden rain and iron hail 
 
 Let their welcome be ! 
 
 3. In the God of battles trust ! 
 
 Die we may — and die we nuis^t : — 
 But, O, where can dust to dust 
 
 Be consigned so well, 
 As where heaven its dews shall shed 
 On the martyred patriot's bed, 
 And the rocks shall raise their head, 
 
 Of his deeds to tell ? 
 
 LESSON CXXXVIII. 
 
 Address to the Patriots of the Revolution. — From D. Web- 
 ster* s Speech^ delivered at the laying of the Corner Stone of 
 the Bunker Hill Mo mime nt, June 17 th, 1825. 
 
 1. Venerable Men ! you have come down to us, from a 
 former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out 
 your lives, that you might behold this joyous day. You are 
 now where you stood fifty years ago, this very hour, with your 
 brothers, and your neighbors, shoulder to shoulder, in the strife 
 for your country. 
 
 * Joseph Warren, a Major-Gencral in the American army, killed at the 
 baUle of Bunker's Hill, June 17th, 1775. 
 
276 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. Behold how altered! The same heavens are indeed over 
 your heads : the same ocean rolls at yom- feet ; but all else, how 
 changed ! You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you see 
 no mixed volumes of smoke and flame rising from burning 
 Charlestown ;* 
 
 3. The ground strewed with the dead and the dying ; the 
 impetuous charore; the steady and successful repulse ; the loud 
 call to repeated assault; the summoning of all that is manly to 
 repeated resistance ; a thousand bosoms freely and fearlessly 
 bared in an instant to whatever terror there may be in war 
 and death ; — all these you have witnessed, but you witness them 
 no more. All is peace. 
 
 4. The heights of yonder metropolis, its towers and roofs, 
 which you then saw filled with wives and children and country- 
 men in distress and terror, and loolving with unutterable emo- 
 tions for the issue of the combat, have presented you to-day 
 with the sight of its whole happy population, come out to wel- 
 come and ffreet you with an universal jubilee. 
 
 5. Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of position appropriately 
 lying at the foot of this mount, and seeming fondfy to cling 
 around it, are not means of annoyance to you, l)ut your country's 
 own means of distinction and defence. All is peace ; and God 
 has granted you this sight of your country's happiness, ere you 
 slumber in the grave for ever. 
 
 6. He has allowed you to behold and to partake the reward 
 of your patriotic toils ; and he has allowed us, your sons and 
 countrymen, to meet you here, and, in the name of the present 
 generation, in the name of your country, in the name of liberty, 
 to thank you ! 
 
 7. But, alas! you are not all here! Time and the sword have 
 thinned your ranks. Prescott, Putnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, 
 Pomeroy, Bridge ! our eyes seek for you in vain amidst this 
 broken band. You are gathered to your fathers, and live only 
 to your country in her grateful remembrance, and your own 
 bright example. - 
 
 8. But let us not too much grieve, that you have met the com- 
 mon fate of men. You lived, at least long enough to know that 
 your work had been nobly and successfully accomplished. You 
 lived to see your country's independence established, and to 
 sheathe your swords from war. On the light of Liberty you 
 saw arise the ligrht of Peace, and the sky, on which you closed 
 your eyes, Avas cloudless. 
 
 ♦ The British burnt Charlestown, on their way to the battle of Bunker's 
 Hill, June 17th, 1775. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 277 
 
 LESSON CXXXIX. 
 
 Specimen of the Eloquence of James Otis :* extracted from 
 " the Rebels.^'' — Miss Francis. 
 
 1. England may as well dam up the waters of the Nile, with 
 bulrushes, as to fetter the step of freedom, more proud and firm 
 in this youthful land, than where she treads the sequestered glens 
 of Scotland, or couches herself among- the magnificent moun- 
 tains of Switzerland. Arbitrary principles, like those, against 
 which we now contend, have cost one kingf of England his 
 life, another J his crown — and they may yet cost a third || his 
 most flourishing colonies. 
 
 2. We are two millions — one fifth fighting men. We are 
 bold and vigorous, — and we call no man master. To the nation 
 from whom we are proud to derive our origin, we ever were, 
 and we ever will be, ready to yield unforced assistance ; but it 
 must not, and it never can be extorted. 
 
 3. Some have sneeringly asked, "Are the Americans too poor 
 to pay a few pounds on stamped paper ?" No ! America, thanks 
 to God and herself, is rich. But the right to take ten pounds 
 implies the right to take a thousand ; and what must be the 
 wealth that avarice, aided by power, cannot exhaust ? True, the 
 spectre is now small ; but the shadow he casts before him, is 
 huge enough to darken all this fair land. 
 
 4. Others, in sentimental style, talk of the immense debt of 
 gratitude, which we owe to England. And what is the amount 
 of this debt ? Why, truly, it is the same that the young lion owes 
 to the dam, which has brought it forth on the solitude of the 
 mountain, or left it amid the winds and storms of the desert. 
 
 5. We plunged into the wave, with the great charter of free- 
 dom in our teeth, because the faggot and torch were behind us. 
 We have waked this new world from its savage lethargy ; for- 
 ests have been prostrated in our path ; towns and cities have 
 grown up suddenly as the flowers of the tropics, and the fires in 
 our autumnal woods are scarcely more rapid, than the increase 
 of our wealth and population. 
 
 6. And do we owe all this to the kind succor of the mothei 
 country ? No ! we owe it to the tyranny, that drove us from h^ 
 — to the pelting storms, which invigorated our helpless infancy. 
 
 ♦ James Otis, a lawyer of Massachusetts, — a zealous defender of the right* 
 of the American colonies. 
 
 t Charles I. He was beheaded in 1649. 
 
 t James II. He abdicated the throne, and fled to France in 1688, whew ■ 
 he died in 1701. 
 
 U George III. He died in 1820, having reigned 60 years. 
 
 24 
 
278 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. But perhaps others will say, " We ask no money from your 
 gratitude, — Ave only demand that you should pay your own 
 expenses." And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity ? 
 Why, the King — (and with all due reverence to his sacred 
 majesty, he understands the real wants of his distant subjects, 
 as little as he does the language of the Choctaws.)* Who is 
 to judge concerning the frequency of these demands ? The 
 ministry. Who is to judge whether the money is properly 
 expended ? The cabinet behind the throne. 
 
 8. In every instance, those who take, are to judge for those 
 who pay ; if this system is suffered to go into operation, we 
 shall have reason to esteem it a great privilege, that rain and 
 dew do not depend upon parliament ; otherwise they would 
 soon be taxed and dried. 
 
 9. But thanks to God, there is freedom enough left upon 
 earth to resist such monstrous injustice. The flame of liberty 
 is extinguished in Greece and Rome, but the light of its glowing 
 embers is still bright and strong on the shores of America. 
 Actuated by its sacred influence, we will resist unto death. 
 
 10. But we will not countenance anarchy and misrule. The 
 wrongs, that a desperate community have heaped upon their 
 enemies, shall be amply and speedily repaired. Still, it may be 
 well for some proud men to remember, that a fire is lighted in 
 these colonies, whicli one breath of tlieir king may kindle into 
 such fury that the blood of all England cannot extinguish it. 
 
 LESSON CXL. 
 
 On Conciliation with America. — Edmund Burke.i 
 
 \. For that service, for all service, whether of revenue, trade, 
 or empire, my trust is in her interest in the British Constitution 
 My hold of the colonies is in the close aflection which grows 
 from common names, from kindred blood, from similar privi- 
 leges, and equal protection. These are ties, which, thougli 
 light as air, are as strong as links of iron. 
 
 2. Let the colonies always keep the idea of their civil rights 
 associated with your government ; they will cling and grapple 
 to you ; and no force under heaven will be of power to tear 
 
 ♦ Choctaws, a tribe of Indians inhabiting the southern part of the United 
 States. 
 
 t Ednjund Burke, a celebrated orator and statesman, bom in the county 
 of Cork, Ireland, in 1730. He became a member of the British Parhament 
 in 1765, and died in 1797. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 279 
 
 them from their allegiance. But let it once be understood, that 
 your government may be one thing, and their pivileges another: 
 that these two things may exist without any mutual relation : 
 the cement is gone ; the cohesion is loosened ; and every thing 
 hastens to decay and dissolution. 
 
 3. As lonff as you have the Vvdsdom to keep the sovereign 
 authority of this country as t* sanctuary of liberty, the sacred 
 temple consecrated to our common faith, wherever the chosen 
 race and sons of England v/orship freedom, they will turn their 
 laces towards you. The more they multiply, the more friends 
 you will have. The more ardently they love liberty, the more 
 
 , perfect will be their obedience. 
 
 4. Slavery they can have any where. It is a weed that grows 
 in every soil. They may have it from Spain, they may have it 
 from Prussia. But until you become lost to all feelings of your 
 true interest and your iiational dignity, freedom they can have 
 from none but you. This is the commodity of price, of which 
 you have the monopoly. 
 
 5. This is the true act of navigation, which binds to you the 
 comm^erce of the colonies, and through them secures to you the 
 wealth of the world. Deny them this participation of freedom, 
 and you break that sole bond, which originally made, and must 
 still preserve the unity of the empire. 
 
 6. Do not entertain so weak an imagination, as that your 
 registers and your bonds, your affidavits and your sufferances, 
 your cockers* and your clearances, are what form the great 
 securities of ycur commerce. Do not dream that your letters 
 of office, an<l your instructions, and your suspending clauses, 
 are the things that hold together the great contexture of this 
 mysterious whole. 
 
 7. These things do not make your government, dead instru- 
 ments, passive tools as they are ; it is the spirit of the English 
 constitution that gives all their life and efficacy to them. It is 
 tiie spirit of the English constitution, which, infused through the 
 mighty mass, pervades, feeds, unites, invigorates, vivifies, every 
 part of the empire, even down to the minutest member. 
 
 8. Is it not the same idrtue w^hich does every thing for us 
 iiere in England ? Do you imagine then, that it is the land tax 
 v/hich raises your revenue ? that it is the annual vote in the 
 committee of supply, which gives you your army ? or that it is 
 the mutiny bill which inspires it with bravery and discipline ; 
 
 * Cocket, a roll of parchment, sealed and delivered by the officers of the 
 custom-house to merchants, as a warrant that their merchandise is entered* 
 
280 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 9. No ! surely no ! It is the love of the people — it is their 
 attachment to their government from the sense of the deep stake 
 they have in such a glorious institution, which gives you your 
 army and your navy, and infuses into both tliat liberal obedi- 
 ence, without which your army would be a base rabble, and 
 your navy nothing but rotten timber. 
 
 10. All this, I know well enough, will sound wild and 
 chimerical to the profane herd of those vulgar and mechanical 
 politicians, who have no place among us ; a sort of people who 
 think that nothing exists but what is gross and material ; and 
 who therefore, far from being qualified to be directors of the 
 great movement of empire, are not fit to turn a wheel in the 
 machine. 
 
 11. But to men truly initiated and rightly taught, these ruling 
 and master principles, which, in the opinion of such men as I 
 have mentioned, have no substantial existence, are in truth every 
 thing, and all in all. Magnanimity in politics is not seldom 
 the truest wisdom ; and a great empire and little minds go ill 
 together. If we are conscious of our situation, and glow with 
 zeal to fill our place as becomes our station and ourselves, we 
 ought to auspicate all our public proceedings on America, with 
 tlie old warning of the church, Sursjwi corda!* We ought to 
 elevate our minds to the orreatness of that trust to which the 
 order of Providence has called us. 
 
 12. By adverting to the dignity of this high calling, our an- 
 cestors have turned a savage wilderness into a glorious empire; 
 and have made the most extensive, and the only honorable con- 
 quests ; not by destroying, but by promoting, the wealth, the 
 number, the happiness, of the human race. Let us get an Amer- 
 ican revenue as we have got an American empire. English 
 privileges have made it all that it is ; English privileges alone 
 will make it all that it can be. 
 
 LESSON CXLI. 
 
 Speech on the Question of War with England. — Patrick 
 
 Henry. 
 
 1. This, Sir, is no time for ceremony. The question before 
 the house is one of awful moment to this country. For my 
 own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom 
 or slavery. And in proportion to the magnitude of the subject 
 ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way 
 * Sursiun corda, raise our souls. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 281 
 
 that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfil the great responsi- 
 bility which we liold to God and our country. Should I keep 
 back my opinions at this time, through fear of giving offence, 1 
 should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, 
 and of an act of disloyalty towards the majesty of Heaven, 
 which I revere above all earthly kings. 
 
 2. Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illu- 
 sions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful 
 truth — and listen to the song of that syren, till she transforms 
 us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great 
 and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the 
 number of those, who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, 
 hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal 
 salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may 
 cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to laiow the worst, 
 and to provide for it. 
 
 3. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided ; and 
 that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging 
 of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish 
 to know what there has been in the conduct of the British min- 
 istry for the last ten years, to justify those hopes with which 
 gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house? 
 Is it that insidious smile Avith which our petition has been lately 
 received ? Trust it not; sir ; it will prove a snare to your feet. 
 Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask your- 
 selves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with 
 those warlike preparations which cover our waters, and darken 
 our land. 
 
 4. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and 
 reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be 
 reconciled, that force nlust be called in to win back our love? 
 Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. Tliese are the implements of 
 war and subjugation — the last arguments to which kings resort. 
 I ask, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not 
 to force us to submission ? Can gentlemen assign any other 
 possible motive for it ? Has Great Britain any enemy in this 
 quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies 
 and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us : 
 they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind 
 and rivet upon us those chains, which the British ministry have 
 bet^n so long forging. 
 
 5. And what have we to oppose to them ? Shall we try 
 argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. 
 Have we any thing new to ofler upon the subject? Nothing. 
 
383 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capa- 
 ble ; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty 
 and humble supplication ? What terms shall we find, which 
 have not been already exhausted ? Let us not, I beseech you, 
 sir, deceive ourselves longer. 
 
 6. Sir, we have done every thing that could be done, to avert 
 the storm that is now coming on. We have petitioned — we 
 have remonstrated — we have supplicated — we have prostrated 
 ourselves before the throne, and have implored its interposition 
 to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and parliament. 
 Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have pro- 
 duced additional violence and insult ; our supplications have 
 been disregarded ; and we have been spurned, with contempt, 
 from the foot of the throne. 
 
 7. In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope 
 of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for 
 hope. If we wish to be free — if we mean to preserve inviolable 
 tliose inestimable privileges for which we have been so long 
 contending — if we mean not basely to abandon the noble strug- 
 gle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have 
 pledged ourselves never to abandon, until tlic glorious object of 
 our contest shall be obtained — we must fight! — I repeat it, sir, 
 we must fight ! ! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts 
 is all that is left us ! 
 
 8. They tell us, sir, that we are weak — unable to cope with 
 so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? 
 Will it be the next week or the next year ? Will it be when 
 we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be 
 stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irreso- 
 lution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effecting 
 resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the 
 delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound 
 us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper 
 use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our 
 power. 
 
 9. Three millions of people armed in the holy cause of liber- 
 ty,andin such a country as that which we possess, are invincible 
 by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, 
 sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God 
 who presides over the destinies of nations: and who will raise 
 ap friends to fight our battles for us. 
 
 10. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the 
 vigilant-, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no elec- 
 tion. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 283 
 
 retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission 
 and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their clanking may be 
 heard on the plains of Boston ! The war is inevitable — and 
 let it come ! ! I repeat it, sir, let it come ! ! ! 
 
 11. It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
 may cry, peace, peace — but there is no peace. The war has 
 actually begun ! The next gale that sweeps from the north 
 will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our 
 brethren are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ? 
 What is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is 
 life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of 
 chains and slavery ? Forbid it. Almighty God ! — I know not 
 what course others may take ; but as for me, give me liberty, 
 or give me death ! 
 
 LESSON CXLIL 
 
 On the Existence of a Deity. — Yoijng. 
 
 1. Retire — the world shut out — thy thoughts call home- 
 Imagination's airy wing repress. 
 
 Lock up thy senses. Let no passion stir. 
 Wake all to reason. Let her reign alone. 
 Then, in thy soul's deep silence, and the depth 
 Of nature's silence, midnight, thus inquire: 
 What am I ? and from whence ? I nothing know 
 But that I am ; and since I am, conclude 
 Something eternal. Had there e'er been nought, 
 Nought still had been. Eternal there must be. 
 
 2. But, what eternal ? Why not human race. 
 And Adam's ancestors, without an end ? 
 That's hard to be conceiv'd, since ev'ry link 
 Of that long chain'd succession is so frail ; 
 Can every part depend and not the whole ? 
 Yet, grant it true, new difficulties rise : 
 
 I'm still quite out at sea, nor see the shore. 
 Whence earth and the.e bright orbs ? Eternal too ? 
 Grant matter was eternal ; still these orbs 
 Would want some other father. Much design 
 Is seen in all their motions, all their makes. 
 Design implies intelligence and art. 
 That can't be from themselves — or man ; that art 
 Man scarce can comprehend, could man bestow ? 
 And nothing greater yet allow'd than man. 
 
2&4 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. Who, motion, foreign to the smallest grain, 
 Shot through vast masses of enormous weight? 
 Who bid brute matter's restive lump assume 
 Such various forms, and gave it wings to fly ? 
 Has matter innate motion ? Then each atom. 
 Asserting its indisputable right 
 To dance, would form an universe of dust. 
 Has matter none ? — then whence these glorious forms 
 And boundless flights, from shapeless and repos'd ? 
 Has matter more than motion ? Has it thought. 
 Judgment and genius? Is it deeply learn'd 
 In mathematics ? Has it fram'd such laws, 
 Which, but to guess, a Newton made immortal ? 
 If art to form, and council to conduct, 
 And that with greater far than hunian skill, 
 Resides not in each block — a Godhead reigns — 
 And if a God there is — that God how great ! 
 
 LESSON CXLIII. 
 
 To-morrow. — Cotton. 
 
 1. To-morrow, didst thou say? 
 Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow. 
 Go to — I will not hear of it — To-morrow ! 
 'Tis a sharper, who stakes his penury 
 Against thy plenty — \vho takes thy ready cash. 
 
 And pays thee nought, but wishes, hoj)es, and promises, 
 
 The currency of idiots — injurious bankrupt. 
 
 That gulls the easy tereditor ! — To-morrow ! 
 
 It is a period no where to be found 
 
 In all the hoary registers of Time, 
 
 Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. 
 
 2. Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society 
 With those who own it. No, my Horatio, 
 
 *Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its father; 
 Wrought of such stuff as dreams ;'re, and as baseless 
 As the fantastic visions of the evening. 
 But soft, my friend — arrest the present moment: 
 For be assur'd they all are arrant tell-tales : 
 And though their fliglU be silent, and their path 
 Trackless, as the wing'd couriers of the air, 
 They post to Iieaven, and there record thy folly. 
 Because, though station'd on th' important watch, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 285 
 
 Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel, 
 Didst let them pass unnotic'd, unimprov'd. 
 And know, for that thou slumb'rest on the guard, 
 Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar 
 For every fugitive : and when thou thus 
 Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal 
 Of hood-wink'd Justice, who shall tell thy audit ? 
 3. Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio, 
 Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings. 
 'Tis of more worth than kingdoms ! far more precious 
 Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountain. 
 O ! let it not elude thy grasp ; but, like 
 The good old patriarch* upon record. 
 Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee. 
 
 LESSON CXLIV. 
 
 Vanity of Power and Misery of Kings. — Shakspearb. 
 
 1. No matter where ; of comfort no man speak : 
 Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs : 
 Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
 Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
 
 Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: 
 And yet not so, — for what can we bequeath. 
 Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? 
 Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, 
 And nothing can we call our own, but death % 
 And that small model of the barren earth, 
 Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
 
 2. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground. 
 And tell sad stories of the death of kings : — 
 How some have been depos'd, some slain in war ; 
 Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd ; 
 Some poison'd by their wives, some sleeping kill'd ; 
 All murder' d ; — 
 
 3. For within the hollow crown 
 That rounds the mortal temples of a king. 
 Keeps death his court : and there the antic sits. 
 Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; 
 AlloAving him a breath, a little scene, 
 
 To monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with looks ; 
 Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — 
 ♦ See Genesis, chap, xxxii. 24 — 30, 
 
286 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 
 Were brass impregnable ; and humor'd thus, 
 Comes at the last, and with a little pin 
 Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king ! 
 
 4. Cover vour heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
 With solemn reverence ; throw away respect, 
 Tradition, form, and cerem.onious duty, 
 For you have but mistook me all this while : 
 I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 
 Need friends : — Subjected thus. 
 How can you say to me — I am a king ? 
 
 LESSON CXLV. 
 
 Darkness. — Byron. 
 
 \. I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream. 
 The bright sun was extinguished, — and the stars 
 Did wander darkling in the eternal space, 
 Rayless, and pathless — and the icy earth 
 Swung l)lind and blackening in the moonless air; 
 Morn came, and went — and came, and brought no day, 
 And men forgot their passions in the dread 
 Of this their desolation : and all hearts 
 Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light : 
 
 2. And they did live by watchfires — and the thrones, 
 The palaces of crowned kings — the huts, 
 
 The habitations of all things which dwell, 
 Were burnt for beacons ; cities were consumed, 
 And men were gathcr'd round their blazing homes 
 To look once more into each other's face ; 
 Happy were those who dwelt within the eye 
 Of the volcanos, and their mountain torch : 
 A fearful hope was all the world contaln'd ; 
 Forests were set on fire — but hour by hour 
 They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks 
 Extin2:uish'd with a crash — and all was black. 
 
 3. The brows of men by the despairing light 
 AVore an unearthly aspect, as by fits 
 
 The flashes fell upon them ; some lay do\m 
 
 * Lord George Gordon Byron, an Englisli nol.krnan, distinguished as a 
 poet. He was born in London, Jan. '22d, 178?!, and died at Missolonghi, in 
 April, 1824, while assisting the Greeks in their gloiious struggle for freedom. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 287 
 
 And hid their eyes and wept ; and some did rest 
 Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled ; 
 And others hurried to and fro, and fed 
 Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up 
 With mad disquietude on the dull sky, 
 The pall of a past world ; and then again 
 With curses cast them down upon the dust, 
 And gnash'd their teeth and howl'd. 
 
 4. The wild birds shriek'd, 
 And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, 
 
 And flap their useless wings ; the wildest brutes 
 Came tame and tremulous ; and vipers crawl'd 
 And twin'd themselves among the multitude. 
 Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food : 
 
 5. And War, which for a moment was no more. 
 Did glut himself again ; — a meal Avas bought 
 With blood, and each sate sullenly apart 
 Gorging himself in gloom : no love was left ; 
 
 All earth was but one thought — and that was death, 
 
 Immediate and inglorious ; and the pang 
 
 Of famine fed upon all entrails — men 
 
 Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh. 
 
 6. The meagre by the meagre were devour'd ; 
 Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one, 
 And he was faithful to a corse, and kept 
 
 The birds and beasts, and famish'd men at bay. 
 Till hunger ckmg them, or the dropping dead 
 Lured their lank jaws ; himself sought out no food, 
 But with a piteous and perpetual moan 
 And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand 
 Which answer'd not with a caress — he died. 
 
 7. The crowd was famish'd by degrees ; but two 
 Of an enorm.ous city did survive, 
 
 And they were enemies ; they met beside 
 
 The dying embers of an altar-place. 
 
 Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things 
 
 For an unholy usage ; they raked up. 
 
 And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands 
 
 The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath 
 
 Blew for a little life, and made a fl.ame 
 
 Which was a mockery ; then they lifted up 
 
 Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld 
 
 Each other's aspects — saw, and shriek'd, and died— 
 
 Even of their mutual hideousness they died, 
 
^8 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Unknowing who he was upon whose brow 
 Famine had written Fiend. 
 
 8. The world was void, 
 The populous and the powerful was a lump, 
 Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — 
 A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay. 
 
 The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still. 
 
 And nothing stirred within their silent depths ; 
 
 Ships sailoriess lay rotting on the sea. 
 
 And their masts fell down ^piecemeal ; as they droppM 
 
 They slept on the abyss without a surge — 
 
 9. The wa-^-^es were dead ; the tides were in their grave ; 
 The moon, their mistress, had expired before ; 
 
 The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air. 
 And the clouds perish'd : Darkness had no need 
 Of aid from them — She was the universe. 
 
 LESSON CXLVL 
 
 Hannibal* to Scipio Africanus, at their interview preceding 
 the Battle of Zama.^ 
 
 1. Since fate has so ordained it, that I, who began the war, 
 and who have been so often on the point of ending it by a com- 
 plete conquest, should now come of my own motion, to ask a 
 peace — I am glad that it is of you, Scipio, I have the fortune to 
 
 * Hannibal, a celebrated Carthaginian, and one of the greatest generals 
 of antiquity, was born 252 years B.C. At 9 years of age, his father, Hamil- 
 car, made him swear on the altar, eternal enmity to Rome. At 25 years of 
 age, he took upon him the command of the armj, and having conquered the 
 lioman forces in Spain, he led his army over the Pyrenees and Alps into 
 Italy. Here he gained many imjxirtant victories ; and during sixteen years 
 conquered every army which the Romans sent against him. At the end o( 
 this time, the Romans sent an army into Africa, under the command of 
 Scipio, and the Carthaginians called Hannibal outof Italy to defend his own 
 country. He was defeated by Scipio at the battle of Zania, and was obliged 
 to flee his country. He led a wandering life at the courts of Antiochus and 
 Prusias, in Asia, and at last destroyed hmiself by poison, when he was about 
 to be delivered into the hands of the Romans, B. C. 182, aged 70. 
 
 t The battle of Zama was fought 196 years B. C. in which the Cartham- 
 nians were totally defeati d, and an end put to the second Punic War. The 
 three v,'r«rs between Rome f\p J Carthage were called Punic Wars. The^r*! 
 Punic War commenced 264 years B. C. and lasted 23 years. The second 
 commenced 218 years B. C. and lasted 22 yeju-s. The third commenced 149 
 years B. C. and lasted 3 years ; when Carthage was entirely destroyed, 146 
 years B.C. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 289 
 
 ask it. Nor will this be among the least of your glories, that 
 Hannibal, victorious over so many Roman Generals, submitted 
 at last to you. 
 
 2 I could wish, that our fathers and we had confined our 
 ambition within the limits which nature seems, to have prescrib- 
 ed to it ; the shores of Africa, and the shores of Italy. The 
 gods did not give us that mind. On both sides we have been 
 so eager after ioreign possessions, as to put our own to the haz- 
 ard of v/ar. Rome and Carthage have had, each in her turn, 
 the enemy at her gates. 
 
 3. But since errors past may be more easily blamed than 
 corrected, let it now be the work of you and me, to put an end, 
 if possible, to the obstinate contention. — For my own part, my 
 years, and the experience I have had of the instability of fortune, 
 incline me to leave nothing to her determination which reason 
 can decide. But much I fear, Scipio, that your youth, your 
 want of the like experience, your uninterrupted success, may 
 render you averse from the thoughts of peace. 
 
 4. He whom fortune has never failed, rarely reflects upon her 
 inconstancy. Yet without recurring to former examples, my 
 own may perhaps suffice to teach you moderation. I am the 
 same Hannibal, who, after my victory at Canna?, became master 
 of the greatest part of your country, and deliberated with myself 
 what fate I should decree to Italy and Rome. 
 
 5. And now — see the change ! Here, in x\frica, I am come to 
 treat with a Roman, for my own preservation and my country's. 
 Such are the sports of fortune. Is she then to be trusted because 
 she smiles ? An advanlageoas peace is preferable to the hope of 
 victory. The one is in your own power, the other at the pleas- 
 ure of the gods. Should you prove victorious, it would add 
 little to your own glory or the glory of your country ; if van- 
 quished, you lose, in one hour, all the honor and reputation you 
 have been so many years acquiring. 
 
 G. But what is my aim in all this ? That you should content 
 yourself with our cession of Spain, Sicily, Sardinia, and all Isl- 
 ands between Italy and Africa. A peace on these conditions 
 will, in my opinion, not only secure the future tranquillity of 
 Carthage, but be sufficiently glorious for you and for the Roman 
 name. And do not tell me, that som^e of our citizens deali 
 fraudulently with you in the late treaty. — It is I, Hannibal, 
 that now ask a peace : — I ask it, because I think it expedient 
 for my comitry ; and thinking it expedient, I will inviolably 
 maintain it. 
 
290 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON CXLVIL 
 
 Scipio^s* Reply to Hannibal, 
 
 1. I KNEW very well, Hannibal, that it was the hope of your 
 return, which emboldened the Carthaginians to break the truce 
 with us, and lay aside all thoughts of peace, when it was just 
 upon the point of being concluded ; and your present proposal 
 is a proof of it. You retrench from their concessions, every 
 thing but what we are and have been long possessed of 
 
 2. But as it is your care, that your fellow citizens should have 
 the obligation to you, of being eased from a great part of their 
 burden, so it ought to be mine, that they draw no advantage 
 from their perfidiousness. Nobody is more sensible than I am 
 of the weakness of man, and the power of fortune, and that 
 whatever we enterprise, is subject to a thousand chances. 
 
 3. If before the Romans passed into Africa, you had, of your 
 own accord, quitted Italy, and made the offers you now make, 
 I believe they would not have been rejected. But, as you have 
 been forced out of Italy, and we are masters here of the open 
 country, the situation of things is much altered. 
 
 4. And what is chiefly to be considered, the Carthaginians, 
 by the late treaty, which we entered into at their request, were, 
 over and above what you offer, to have restored to us our pris- 
 oners without ransom, delivered up their ships of war, paid us 
 five thousand talents, and to have given hostages for the per- 
 formance of all. 
 
 5 The senate accepted these conditions, but Carthage failed 
 on her part: Carthage deceived us. What then is to be done? 
 Are the Carthaginians to be released from the most important 
 articles of the treaty, as a reward for their breach of faith? No, 
 certainly. 
 
 6. If to the conditions before agreed upon, you had added 
 some new articles, to our advantage, there would have been 
 matter of reference to the Roman people ; but when, instead ol 
 adding, you retrench, there is no room for deliberation. The 
 Carthaginians, therefore, must submit to us at discretion, or 
 must vanquish us in battle. 
 
 * Publius Cornelius Scipio, an illustrious Roman and brave general. — 
 While Hannibal was in the northern part of Italy, the Roman Senate sent 
 Scipio into Africa to carry war to the gates of Carthage. He defeated the 
 Carthaginians under Hannibal at the battle of Zama, and obtained the hon- 
 orable surname of Africanus. He was afterwards treated with ingratitude 
 and basene««8 by the Romans, and fled from the public clamors, and died in 
 retireinfjfit B.C. 180 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 291 
 
 LESSON CXLVIII. 
 
 Cassius* instigating' Brutus to join the Conspiracy against 
 Cesar. — Tragedy of Julius Cesar. 
 
 1. Honor is the subject of my story — 
 I cannot tell what you and other men 
 Think of this life ; but for my single self, 
 I had as lief not be, as live to be 
 
 In awe of such a thing as myself. 
 I was born free as Cesar ;t so were you : 
 We both have fed as well ; and we can both 
 Endure the winter's cold as well as he. 
 
 2. For once upon a raw and gusty day, 
 The troubled TiberJ chafing with his shores, 
 Cesar says to me, " Dar'st thou, Cassius, now 
 Leap in with me into this angry flood, 
 
 And swim to yonder point ?" — Upon the word, 
 
 Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, 
 
 And bade him follow ; so indeed he did. 
 
 The torrent roar'd, and we did buffet it ; 
 
 With lusty sinews throwing it aside. 
 
 And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 
 
 3. But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, 
 Cesar cry'd, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink." 
 
 * Caius Cassius, a celebrated Roman, who was attached to the interests 
 of Pompey, and when Cesar obtained the victory in the plains of Pharsalia, 
 Cassius owed his life to the mercy of the conqueror. He was an artful and 
 ambitious man, and was at the head of the conspiracy against Cesar. At 
 the battle of Philippi, fearful of falling into the hands of his enemies, he 
 caused one of his slaves to slay him with the very sword with which he had 
 given wounds to Cesar, B. C. 42. 
 
 t Caius Julius Cesar, an illustrious Roman general and historian, wa.s 
 born B. C. 98. He was famous for his learning, his ambition, his valor, and 
 his tragical death. By his valor and eloquence he acquired the highest re- 
 putation in the field and in the senate ; and enjoyed every magisterial and 
 military honor that the republic could bestow. In 59 B. C. the government 
 of the Roman Commonwealth was divided between Cesar, Crassus, and 
 Pompey. Jealousies soon arose, which terminated in^a civil war. Cesar 
 subdued Pompey, and became master of the Commonwealth. His ambition 
 became boundless — he grasped at sovereign power. But he was beloved by 
 the Roman people, and they thought no honor, except that of king, too great 
 to be conferred on him. In the midst of his ambitious projects, a conspiracy 
 was formed against him, headed by Cassius and Brutus, and he was assas- 
 sinated in the senate-house, B. C. 43, in the 56th year of his age. It is said 
 that lie conquered 300 nations, took 800 cities, and defeated 3,000,000 of 
 people, 1,000,000 of which fell in battle. 
 
 t Tiber, a river of Italy, on whose banks the city of Rome was built. 
 
292 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 I, as jEneas,* our great ancestor, 
 
 Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 
 
 The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber 
 
 Did I the tired Cesar ; and this man 
 
 Is now become a god ; and Cassius is 
 
 A wretched creature, and must bend his body 
 
 If Cesar carelessly but nod on him. 
 
 4. He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
 And when the fit was on him, I did mark 
 
 How he did shake ; 'tis true : this god did shake ; 
 
 His coward lips did from their color fly ; 
 
 And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, 
 
 Did lose its lustre ; I did hear him groan, 
 
 Aye, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 
 
 Mark him, and write his speeches in their books, 
 
 "Alas !" it cry'd — "Give me some drink, Titinius" — 
 
 As a sick girl. 
 
 5. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 
 A man of such a feeble temper should 
 
 So get the start of the majestic world, 
 
 And bear the palm alone. 
 
 Brutus and Cesar ! — What should be in that Cesar ? 
 Why should that name be sounded more than yours? 
 Write them together ; yours is as fair a name : 
 Sound them ; it doth become the mouth as well : 
 Weigh them ; it is as heavy : conjure with 'em ; 
 Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cesar. 
 
 6. Now in the name of all the gods at once, 
 Upon what meats doth this our Cesar feed. 
 
 That he has grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd ; 
 Rome, thou bast lost the breed of noble bloods. 
 When went there by an age, since the groat flood. 
 But it was fam'd with more than one man ? 
 When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, 
 That her wide walls encompass'd but one man t 
 Oh ! you and I have heard our fathers say. 
 There was a Brutus once, that would have brook'd 
 Th' infernal devil, to keep his state in Rome, 
 As easily as a king. 
 
 * ^noas, a Trojan prince, son of Anchises and Venus, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 293 
 
 LESSON CXLIX. 
 
 Brutus''* Speech on the Death of Cesar. — Tragedy of Julius 
 
 Cesar. 
 
 1. Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers, — Hear me, for my 
 cause ; and be silent, that you may hear. BeUeve me, for mine 
 honor; and have respect for mine honor, that you may beheve. 
 Censure me, in your wisdom ; and awake your senses, that you 
 may the better judge. 
 
 2. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar, 
 to him I say, that Brutus' love to Cesar was no less than his, 
 If then, that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cesar, this 
 is my answer ; not that I loved Cesar less, but that I love Rome 
 more. 
 
 3. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die all slaves, than 
 that Cesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cesar loved me, 
 I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he 
 was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew 
 him. 
 
 4. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for 
 his valor, and death for his ambition. Who's here so base, 
 that he would be a bondman ? If any, speak; for him have I 
 offended. 
 
 5. Who's here so rude, that he would not be a Roman? If 
 any, speak; for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, tl.at 
 he will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I 
 offended. I pause for a reply. 
 
 6. None? Then none have I offended. I have done no 
 more to Cesar, than you should do to Brutus. And as I slew 
 my best lover for the good of Rome, I reserve the same dag- 
 ger for myself, whenever it shall please my country to need 
 my death. 
 
 * Marcus Brutus, a brave, virtuous, and honorable Roman — but a blind 
 poIiticiaTi. He was the dnpe of Cassius' flattery and art, — and was instiga- 
 ted by him, to join the conspiracy against Cesar, that liis virtues and popu- 
 larity might sanction the atrocious deed. Cesar was Brutus' best and most 
 intimate friend. After the assassination of Cesar, Brutus fied with the other 
 conspirators, collected an army, was defeated at the decisive battle of Phi- 
 lippi, fell upon his sword, and died B. C. 42. 
 
 25* 
 
2^4 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON CL. 
 
 Antonyms* Speech over the Body of Cesar. — Tragedy of 
 
 Julius Cesar. 
 
 1. Friends, Romans, Countrymen! — Lend me your ears. 
 I come to bury Cesar, not to praise him. 
 
 The evil that men do, lives after them : 
 The good is oft interred with their bones : 
 So let it be with Cesar ! 
 
 2. Noble Brutus 
 
 Hath told you Cesar was ambitious. 
 If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 
 And grievously hath Cesar answer'd it. 
 Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, 
 (For Brutus is an honorable man, 
 So are they all, all honorable men) 
 Come I to speak in Cesar's funeral 
 
 3. He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
 But Brutus says he was aml^itious ; 
 
 And Brutus is an honorable man. 
 He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
 Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill : 
 Did this in Cesar seem ambitious ? 
 
 4. When that the poor hath cried, Cesar hath wept ! 
 Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And Brutus is an honorable man. 
 
 You all did see, that, on the Lupercal,t 
 
 I thrice presented him a kingly crown ; 
 
 Which he did thrice refuse : Was this ambition ? 
 
 Yet Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
 
 And sure he is an honorable man. 
 
 5. I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke ; 
 But here I am to speak what I do know. 
 
 * Marcus Antony, a brave, ambitious, artful, and designing Roman. He 
 was warmly attached to Cesar, and after his assassination he resolved to 
 seize the opportunity fur raising himself to power. He artfully procured a 
 public funeral for Cesar, and took this occasion to harangue the soldiers and 
 populace in his favor, — and he inflamed them so much against the conspira- 
 tors, that Brutus and Cassius were obliged to leave the city. He led an 
 army against the conspirators, and defeated them at Philippi. He obtained 
 a share of the Roman empire in the triumvirate wliich he formed with Au- 
 fTUatus Cesar and Marcus Lepidus. But dissensions arising between these 
 three, a civil war commenced, and Antony, defeated at the battle of Actium, 
 fled to Egypt, and killed himself, B. C. 30. 
 
 t Lu})ercal, a feast among the Romans, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 295 
 
 You all did love him once ; not without, cause ; 
 What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ? 
 O judgment ! Thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
 And men have lost their reason. Bear with me : 
 My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar ; 
 And I must pause till it come back to me.' 
 
 6. But yesterday, the word of Cesar might 
 Have stood against the world ! now lies he there, 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. 
 
 masters ! If I were dispos'd to stir 
 Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
 
 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong ; 
 Who, you all know, are honorable men. 
 
 I will not do them wrong — I rather choose 
 To wrong the dead, to wrong. myself and you, 
 Than I will wron^ such honorable men. 
 
 7. But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar ; 
 I found it in his closet : 'tis his will. 
 
 Let but the commons hear this testament, 
 (Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read) 
 And they would go and kiss dead Cesar's wounds, 
 And dip their napkins in his sacred blood — 
 Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 
 And dying, mention it within their wills, 
 Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy, 
 Unto their issue. — 
 
 8. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
 You all do know this mantle : I remember 
 
 The first time ever Cesar put it on ; 
 'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent, 
 
 That day he overcame the Nervii* 
 
 Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through 
 
 See what a rent the envious Casca made 
 
 Through this the well beloved Brutus stabb'd ; 
 And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 
 Mark how the blood of Cesar foUow'd it ! 
 
 9. This, this was the unkindest cut of all. 
 For when the noble Cesar saw him stab, 
 Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms. 
 
 Quite vanquish'd him ! Then burst his mighty heart, 
 And in his mantle muffling up his face, 
 
 * Pronounced IN er-ve-i, a warlike people of Gaul, whom Cesar attacked 
 and totally defeated. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 E'en at the base of Pompey's statue, 
 
 (Which all the while ran blood,) great Cesar fell. 
 
 10. O what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
 Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down ! 
 Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us. 
 
 O, now you weep ; and I perceive you feel 
 The dint of pity ; These are gracious drops. 
 Kind souls ! What, weep you when you but behold 
 Our Cesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here ! — 
 Here is himself — marr'd, as you see, by traitors. 
 
 11. Good friends ! Sweet friends ! Let me not stir you up 
 To such a sudden flood of mutiny ! 
 
 They that have done this deed arc honorable ! 
 What private griefs they have, alas, I know not, 
 That made them do it ! They are wise and honorable, 
 And will, no doubt, with reason answer you. 
 
 12. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts! 
 I am no orator, as Brutus is ; 
 
 But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, 
 That love my friend — and that they knew full well, 
 That gave me public leave to s])eak. of him ! 
 For I have neither v/it, nor words, nor worth, 
 Action, nor utterance, nor power of speech. 
 To stir men's blood. 
 
 13. I only speak right on, 
 
 I tell you that which you yourselves do know — 
 
 Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 
 
 And bid them speak for me. But, were I Brutus, 
 
 And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
 
 Would rullle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
 
 In every wound of Cesar, that should move 
 
 The stones of Rome to rise and nuitiny. 
 
 LESSON CLL 
 
 Othello's Apology for his Marriaa^c. — Tragedy of Othello 
 
 1. Most potent, grave and reverend seigniors: 
 My very noble and approv'd good masters : 
 That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter. 
 It is moi-i true ; true, I have married her: 
 The very head and front of my oflbnding 
 Hath this extent ; no more. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 297 
 
 2. Rude am I in speech, 
 And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace : 
 For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, 
 Till now, some nine moons wasted, they have us'd 
 Their dearest action in the tented field ; 
 
 And little of this great world can I speakj " 
 
 More than pertains to feats of broils and battle ; 
 
 And therefore, little shall I grace my cause, 
 
 In speaking of myself. Yet by your patience, 
 
 I will a round un^arnish'd tale deliver, 
 
 Of my whole course of love ; what drugs, what charms, 
 
 What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 
 
 (For such proceedings I am charg'd withal) 
 
 I won his daughter with. 
 
 3. Her father lov'd me ; oft invited me ; 
 Still question'd me the story of my life 
 
 From year to year : the battles, sieges, fortunes, 
 
 That r had past. 
 
 I ran it through, e'en from my boyish days 
 
 To the very moment that he bade me tell it. 
 
 Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances : 
 
 Of moving accidents by flood and field : 
 
 Of hair breadths 'scapes in the imminent deadly breach : 
 
 Of being taken by the insolent foe, 
 
 And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, 
 
 And with it all my travel's history. 
 
 4. All these to hear 
 
 Would Desdemona seriously incline ; 
 Rut sUll the house afiairs would draw^ her thence ; 
 Which ever as she could with haste despatch, 
 She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
 Devour up my discourse. Which I observing. 
 Took once a pliant hour, and found good means 
 To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, 
 That I would all my pilgrimage dilate ; 
 Whereof by parcels she had something heard. 
 But not distinctly. 
 
 5. I did consent ; 
 
 And often did beguile her of her tears, 
 When I did speak of some distressful stroke 
 That my youth sufTer'd. My story being done, 
 She gave me for my pains a world of sighs. 
 She swore in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange; 
 'Twas pitiful ; 'twas wond'rous pitiful ; 
 
298 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 She wishM she had not heard it ; yet she wish'd 
 That heaven had made her such a man. 
 
 6. She thank'd me, 
 
 And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, 
 I should but teach him how to tell my story, 
 And that would woo her. On this hint I spake ; 
 She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd ; 
 And I lov'd her, that she did pity them. 
 This is the only witchcraft which I've us'd. 
 
 LESSON CLII. 
 
 Soliloquy of Hamlet* on Death. Tragedy of Hamlet. 
 
 1. To be — or not to be—that is the question, 
 Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
 
 The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune — 
 Or to take arms against a sea of trouble, 
 And, by opposing, end them ? To die — to sleep — 
 No more ? And, by a sleep, to say we end 
 The heart-achej and the thousand natural shocks 
 That flesh is heir to. 
 
 2. 'Tis a consummation 
 Devoutly to be wish'd. — To die — to sleep — 
 
 To sleep, perchance to dream — ay, there's the rub — 
 For, in that sleep of death, what dreams may come, 
 When we ha^e shuffled off this mortal coil, 
 Must give us pause. 
 
 3. There's the respect. 
 That makes calamity of so long life ; 
 
 For, who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 
 Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
 The pangs of despis'd love — the law's delay — 
 The insolence of office, and the spurns 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes — 
 When he himself might his quietusf make 
 With a bare bodkin. 
 
 4. Who would fardelsj bear, 
 To groan and sweat under a weary life. 
 But that the dread of something after death, 
 (That undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 
 
 No traveller returns) puzzles the will, 
 
 ♦ A Prince of Denmark. t auittus, rest, repose 
 
 X Fardel, a bundle, or little pack. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 299 
 
 And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 
 Than jfiy to others that we know not of? 
 
 5. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all ; 
 And thus the native hue of resolution 
 Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
 And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
 "With this regard, their currents turn away, 
 And lose the name of action. 
 
 LESSON CLIII. 
 
 Cato^s* Soliloquy on the Immortality of the Soul. — Tragedy 
 
 OF Cato. 
 
 1. It must be so — Plato,t thou reasonest well ! 
 Else, whence this pleasing hop6, this fond desire, 
 This longing after immortality ? 
 
 Or, whence this secret dread, and inward horror, 
 ■Of falling into nought ? Why shrinks the soul 
 Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 
 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us : 
 'Tis heaven itself that points out an hereafter, 
 And intimates Eternity to man. 
 
 2. Eternity ! — thou pleasing, dreadful thought ! 
 Through what variety of untried being. 
 
 Through what new scenes and changes must we pass ? 
 The wide, th' unbounded prospect lies before me : 
 But shadows, clouds and darkness rest upon it. 
 Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us, 
 (And that there is, all nature cries aloud 
 Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue ; 
 And that which he delights in must be happy. 
 But when ? Or where ? This world was made for Cesar. 
 
 I'm weary of conjectures this must end them. 
 
 [Laying his hand on his sword* 
 
 * Marcus Fortius Cato, an eminent Roman, born 94 years B, C. He 
 was a lover of Phiilosopiiy, and a brave general ; a man of great integrity, 
 and strong attachment to his country. He boldly opposed the conspiracy of 
 Catiline, and the ambition of Julius Cesar. After the battle of Pharsalia, 
 Cato fled to Utica, in Africa, and being pursued by Cesar, he advised his 
 friends to flee, and his son to trust to Cesar's clemency. He then retired to 
 his apartment, and read Plato on the Immortality of the Soul, twice 
 over ; and then stabbed himself with his sword, and died, aged 48 — B. C. 
 46 years. 
 
 t A Grecian Philosopher. 
 
300 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 3. Thus I am doubly arm'd. My death* and life,t 
 My bane* and antidotef are both before me. 
 This* in a moment brings me to an end ; 
 But thisf informs me I shall never die. 
 The soul, secur'd in her existence, smiles 
 At the drawn dagger, and defies its point. 
 The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
 Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years : 
 But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth : 
 Unhurt amidst the war of elements, 
 The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds. 
 
 LESSON CLIV. 
 
 Speech of CatilineX before the Roman Senate, on hearing- his 
 sentence of hanishrnent. — Croly's Catiline. 
 
 \. "Banished from Rome!" — what's banished, but set free 
 From daily contact of the things I loathe? 
 " Tried and convicted traitor !" — Who says this? 
 Who'll prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 
 " Banished ?" — I thank you for't. It breaks my chain ! 
 I held some slack allegiance till this hour — 
 But now my sword's my own. Smile on, my lords ; 
 I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 
 Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 
 I have within my heart's hot cells shut up, 
 To leave you in your lazy dignities. 
 
 2. But liere I stand and scoff you : — here I fling 
 Hatred and full defiance in your face. 
 
 Your Consul'sll merciful. For this all thanks. 
 
 He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. 
 
 " Traitor !" I go — but I retvrn. This — trial ! 
 
 Here I devote your senate ! I've had wrongs, 
 
 To stir a fever in the blood of age. 
 
 Or make the infant's sinew strong as steel. 
 
 3. Tliis day's the birth of sorrows ! — This hour's work 
 Will breed proscriptions. — Look to your hearths, my lords, 
 For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 
 Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and cranes ; — 
 
 ♦ The sword. t A book written by Plato. 
 
 t A Roman Senator accused of a conspiracy against the government, and 
 banished. 
 U Marcus Tullius Cicero. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 301 
 
 Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn 
 Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
 Naked RebelHon, with the torch and axe, 
 Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; 
 Till Anarchy comes down on you like Night, 
 And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. 
 
 LESSON CLV. 
 
 The Rich Man and the Poor Man. — Khemnitzer. 
 
 L So goes the world ; — if wealthy, you may call 
 This — friend, that — brother ; friends and brothers all 
 Though you arc Avorthless — witless — never mind it; 
 You may have been a stable boy — what then ? 
 'Tis wealth, good Sir, makes honorable men. 
 You seek respect, no doubt, and you will find it. 
 
 2. But if you are poor, heaven help you ! though your sire 
 Had royal blood within him, and though you 
 
 Possess the intellect of angels too, 
 'Tis all in vain ; — the world will ne'er inquire 
 On such a score : — Why should it take the pains ? 
 'Tis easier to weigh purses, sure, than brains. 
 
 3. I once saw a poor fellow, keen and clever, 
 Witty and wdse : — he paid a man a visit, 
 
 And no one noticed him, and no one ever 
 
 Gave him a welcome. "Strange," cried I;" whence is it?" 
 
 He walked on this side, then on that, 
 
 He tried to introduce a social chat ; 
 Now here, now there, in vain he tried ; 
 Some formally and freezingly replied, 
 
 And some 
 Said by their silence — " Better stay at home." 
 
 4. A rich man burst the door, 
 As Croesus* rich, I'm sure 
 
 He could not pride himself upon his wit ; 
 And as for wisdom, he had none of it ; 
 He had what's better ; — he had wealth. 
 What a confusion ! — all stand up erect — 
 
 • Pronounced Cre-zus, a king of Lydia, in Asia Minor, 548 B. C, fUp- 
 posed the richest of mankind. 
 
 26 
 
302 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 These crowd around to ask him of his health ; 
 
 These bow in honest duty and respect ; 
 And these arrange a sofa or a chair, 
 And these conduct him there. 
 " Allow me, Sir, the honor ;" — Then a bow 
 Down to the earth — Is't possible to show 
 Meet gratitude for such kind condescension ? 
 
 5. The poor man hung his head, 
 
 And to himself he said, 
 " This is indeed beyond my comprehension :" 
 
 Then looking round, 
 
 One friend J y face he found. 
 And said — " Pray tell me why is wealth preferr'd 
 To wisdom ?" — " That's a silly question, friend !" 
 Replied the other — " haA^e you never heard, 
 
 A man may lend his store 
 
 Of gold or silver ore, 
 But wisdom none can borrow, none can lend ?" 
 
 LESSON CLVI. 
 
 Address to the Ocean. — Lord Byron. 
 
 L There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
 There is society, where none intrudes, 
 By the deep Sea, and music in its roar : 
 I love not Man ihe less, but Nature more. 
 From these our interviews, in which I steal 
 From all I may be, or have been before. 
 To mingle with the Universe, and feel 
 
 What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 
 
 2. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, — roll ! 
 Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
 Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
 Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain 
 The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
 A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
 When, for a moment, like a drop of rain. 
 He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan. 
 
 Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 303 
 
 3. His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy tields 
 Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise 
 
 And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields 
 For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, 
 Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, 
 And send'st him shivering, in thy playful spray, 
 And howling to his gods, where haply lies 
 His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
 Tlien dashest him again to earth : — there let him lay, 
 
 4. The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 
 Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
 And monarchs tremble in their capitals, 
 
 The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
 Their clay creator the vain title take 
 Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ! 
 These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake, 
 They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
 Alike the Armada's* pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.! 
 
 5. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
 Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ! 
 Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
 And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
 
 The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 
 Has dried up realms to deserts : — not so thou, 
 Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — 
 Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — 
 Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou roUest now. 
 
 6. Thou, glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
 Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
 
 (Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
 Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
 Dark-heaving,) — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
 The image of Eternity — the throne 
 Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
 The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
 Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 
 
 * Ar-nia-da, a fleet of armed ships. The term is usually applied to the 
 Spanish fleet, called the Invincible Armada, consisting of 130 ships, in- 
 tended to act against England in 1588, in the reign of Elizabeth. 
 
 t Gape Traf-al-gar, on the southwestern coast of Spain. Off this Cape, 
 on the 21st of October, 1805, was obtained the celebrated victory of the 
 British fleet, commanded by Lord Nelson, over the corqbined fleets of 
 France and Spain. Lord Nelson lost his life in the action, aged 47 years. 
 
304 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 7. And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
 Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 
 Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy 
 I wanton' d with thy breakers — they to me 
 Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea 
 Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, 
 For I was as it were a child of thee, 
 And trusted to thy billows far and near. 
 And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 
 
 LESSON CLVIL 
 
 Wisdo7n. — PoLLOK. 
 
 1. Wisdom is humble, said the voice of God. 
 *Tis proud, the Avorld replied. Wisdom, said God, 
 Forgives, forbears, and suffers, not for fear 
 
 Of man, but God. Wisdom revenges, said 
 The world, is quick and deadly of resentment. 
 Thrusts at the very shadov/ of affront, 
 And hastes, by death, to wipe its honor clean. 
 
 2. Wisdom, said God, loves enemies, entreats, 
 Solicits, begs for peace. Wisdom, replied 
 
 The world, hates enemies, will not ask peace, 
 Conditions spurns, and triumphs in their fall. 
 Wisdom mistrusts itself, and leans on Heaven, 
 Said God. It trusts and leans upon itself, 
 The world replied. 
 
 3. Wisdom retires, said God, 
 And counts it bravery to bear reproach 
 And shame, and lowly poverty, upright ; 
 
 And weeps Avith all who have just cause to weep. 
 Wisdom, replied the world, struts forth to gaze, 
 Treads the broad stage of life with clamorous foot, 
 Attracts all praises, counts it bravery 
 Alone to wield the sword, and rush on death ; 
 And never weeps, but for its own disgrace. 
 
 4. Wisdom, said Cod, is highest, when it stoops 
 Lowest before the Holy Throne ; throws down 
 Its crown, abased ; forgets itself, admires. 
 
 And breathes adoring praise. There Wisdom stoops, 
 Indeed, the world replied, there stoops, because 
 It must, but stoops with dignity ; and thinks 
 And meditates the while of inward worth. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 305 
 
 LESSON CLVIII. 
 
 Tke Inhumanity of Slavery. — Cowper. 
 
 1. Oh, for a lodge in some vast wilderness, 
 Some boundless contiguity of shade, 
 Where rumor of oppression and deceit, 
 
 Of unsuccessful or successful war. 
 
 Might never reach me more ! My ear is painM, 
 
 My soui is sick with every day's report 
 
 Of wrong and outrage with which earth is fill*d. 
 
 There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart ; 
 
 It does not feel for man. The nat'ral bond 
 
 Of brotherhood is sever'd as the flax 
 
 That falls asunder at the touch of fire. 
 
 2. He finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
 Not color' d like his own ; and having pow'r 
 T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause 
 Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 
 Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
 
 Abhor each other. Mountains interposM, 
 Make enemies of nations, who had else, 
 Like kindred drops, been mingled into one. 
 
 3. Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys: 
 And worse than all, and most to be deplor'd, 
 
 As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
 Chains him and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
 "With stripes, that mercy, with a bleeding heart. 
 Weeps M'hen she sees inflicted on a beast. 
 
 4. Then what is man ! And what man seeing this. 
 And having human feelings, does not blush 
 
 And hang his head, to think himself a man ? 
 I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
 To carry me, to fan me while I sleep. 
 And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
 That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd. 
 
 5. No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
 Just estimation pris'd above all price ; 
 
 I had much rather be myself the slave, 
 And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
 We have no slaves at home — then why abroad ? 
 And they themselves once ferried o'er the wave 
 That parts us, are emancipate and loos'd. 
 
 6. Slaves cannot breathe in England : if their lungs 
 Receive her air, that moment they are free ; 
 
 26* 
 
306 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 
 That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
 And jealous of the blessing. Spread it then, 
 And let it circulate through ev'ry vein 
 Of all your empire : that where Britain's power 
 Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. 
 
 LESSON CLIX. 
 
 Tlie Cuckoo. — Logan. 
 
 1. Hail, beauteous stranger of the wood, 
 
 Attendant on the spring ! 
 Now heav'n repairs thy rural seat. 
 And woods thy welcome sing, 
 
 2. Soon as the daisy decks the green. 
 
 Thy certain voice we hear : 
 Hast thou a star to guide thy path. 
 Or mark the rolling year ? 
 
 3. Delightful visitant ! with thee 
 
 I hail the time of flow'rs, 
 When heav'n is fill'd with music sweet 
 Of birds among tlie bow'rs. 
 
 4. The school-boy wand'ring in the wood, 
 
 To pull the flow'rs so gay, 
 Starts, thy curious voice to hear, 
 And imitates thy lay. 
 
 3. Soon as the pea puts on the bloom. 
 Thou fly'st the vocal vale. 
 An annual guest in other lands. 
 Another spring to hail. 
 
 6. Sweet bird, thy bow'r is ever green. 
 
 Thy sky is ever clear ; 
 Thou hast no sorrow in thy song. 
 No winter in thy year ! 
 
 7. O could I fly, I'd fly with thee ; 
 
 We'd make, with social wing. 
 Our annual visit o'er the globe. 
 Companions of the spring. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 307 
 
 LESSON CLX. 
 
 The Star of Bethlehem. — J. G. Percival. 
 
 1. Brighter than the rising day, 
 
 When the sim of glory shines ; 
 Brighter than the diamond's ray, 
 
 Sparkhng in Golconda's* mines ; 
 Beaming through the clouds of wo, 
 
 Smiles in Mercy's diadem 
 On the guilty world below. 
 
 The star that rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 2. When our eyes are dimmed Avith tears. 
 
 This can light them up again, 
 Sweet as music to our ears, 
 
 Faintly warbling o'er the plain. 
 Never shines a ray so bright 
 
 From the purest earthly gem ; 
 O ! there is no soothing light 
 
 Like the Star of Bethlehem. 
 
 3. Grief's dark clouds may o'er us roll, 
 
 Every heart may sink in wo. 
 Gloomy conscience rack the soul. 
 
 And sorrow's tears in torrents flow ; 
 Still, through all these clouds and storms. 
 
 Shines this purest heavenly gem, 
 With a ray that kindly warms — 
 
 The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 4. When we cross the roaring wave 
 
 That rolls on life's remotest shore ; 
 When we look into the grave, 
 
 And wander through this world no more ; 
 This, the lamp whose genial ray, 
 
 Like some brightly-glowing gem, 
 Points to man his darkling way — 
 
 The Star that rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 5. Let the world be sunk in sorrow. 
 
 Not an eye be charmed or bless'd ; 
 We can see a fair to-morrow 
 Smiling in the rosy west ; 
 
 * A province in Hindoostan, now called Hyderabad, formerly celebrated 
 for its diamond mines. 
 
308 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 This, her beacon, Hope displays ; 
 
 For, in Mercy's diadem. 
 Shines, with Faith's serenest rays, 
 
 The Star tliat rose in Bethlehem. 
 
 6. When this gloomy life is o'er. 
 
 When we smile in bliss above. 
 When, on that delightful shore, 
 
 We enjoy the heaven of love, — 
 O ! what dazzling hght shall shine 
 
 Round salvation's purest gem ! 
 O ! what rays of love divine 
 
 Gild the Star of Bethlehem ! 
 
 LESSON CLXL 
 
 The Last Man. — Campbell. 
 
 All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom : 
 
 The sun itself shdXX die. 
 Before this mortal shall assume 
 
 Its immortality. 
 
 2. 1 saw a vision in my sleep, 
 
 That gave my spirit strength to sweep 
 
 Ad own the gulf of time ; 
 I saw the last of human mould, 
 That shall creation's death behold, 
 
 As Adam saw the prime. 
 
 3. The sun's eye had a sickly glare ; 
 
 The earth with age was \van ; 
 The skeletons of nations were 
 
 Around that lonely man. 
 Some had expir'd in fight : the brands 
 Still rested in their bony hands ; 
 
 In plague and famine, some ; 
 Earth's cities had no sound, no tread ; 
 And ships were drifting with their dead, 
 
 To shores where all was dumb. 
 
 4. Yet, prophet like, the lone one stood. 
 
 With dauntless words and high, 
 That shook the sere leaves from the wood 
 As if a storm pass'd by, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 309 
 
 Saying, we're twins in death, proud sun, 
 Thy face is cold, thy race is run, 
 
 Mere Mercy bids thee go. 
 For thou, ten thousand thousand years. 
 Hast seen the tide of human tears, 
 
 That shall no longer flow. 
 
 6. What, though beneath thee, man put forth 
 
 His pomp, his pride, his skill ; 
 And arts that made wood, fire, and earth, 
 
 The vassals of his will ; 
 Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, 
 Thou dim, discrowned king of day ; 
 
 For all those trophied arts 
 And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, 
 Heal'd not a passion or a pang 
 
 Entail'd on hOman hearts. 
 
 6. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall 
 
 Upon the stage of men ; 
 Nor with thy rising beams recall 
 
 Life's tragedy again. 
 Its motley pageants bring not back, 
 Nor waken flesh, upon the rack 
 
 Of pain, anew to writhe : 
 Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr'd, 
 Or mown in battle by the sword, 
 
 Like grass beneath the scythe. 
 
 7 E'en I am weary, in yon skies, 
 
 To watch thy fading fire ; 
 Test of all sumless agonies, 
 
 Behold not me expire. 
 My lips that speak thy dirge of death; 
 Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath, 
 
 To see thou shalt not boast. 
 The eclipse of nature spreads my pall. 
 The majesty of darkness shall 
 
 Receive my parting ghost. 
 
 8. This spirit shall return to him, 
 That gave its heavenly spark ; 
 Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim 
 
 When thou thyself art dark. 
 No ; it shall live again,, and shine 
 In bliss unknown to beams of thine. 
 
310 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 By Him recall'd to breath, 
 Who captive led captivity ; 
 Who robb'd the grave of victory, 
 
 And pluck'd the sting of death. 
 
 9. Go sun, while mercy holds me up 
 
 On nature's awful waste, 
 To drink this last, this bitter cup 
 
 Of grief that man shall taste ; 
 Go, tell the night that hides thy face, 
 Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race. 
 
 On earth's sepulchral clod. 
 The dark'ning universe defy 
 To quench his immortality, 
 
 Or shake his trust in God. 
 
 LESSON CLXIL 
 
 * 
 
 Picture of a Good Man. — Young. 
 
 1. Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw, 
 What nothing else than angol can exceed, 
 
 A man on earth devoted to the skies ; 
 Like ships at sea, while in, above the vt^orld. 
 With aspect mild, and elevated eye, 
 Behold him seated on a mount serene, 
 Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; 
 All the black cares, and tumults of this life, 
 Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet. 
 Excite his pity, not impair his peace. 
 
 2. Earth's genuine sons, the sceptred, and the slave, 
 A mingled mob ! a wand'rinij herd ! he sees, 
 Bewilder'd i)i the vale ; in all unlike ; 
 
 His full reverse in all ! What higher praise ? 
 What stronger demonstration of the ridU? 
 The present all their care ; the future nis ; 
 When public welfare calls, or private want. 
 They give to fame ; his bounty he conceals. 
 T'heir virtues varnish nature ; his exalt. 
 Mankind's esteem they court ; and he his own. 
 
 3. Theirs the wild chase of false felicities ; 
 His, the composed possession of the true. 
 Alike throughout is his consistent piece, 
 
 All of one color, and an even thread ; 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 311 
 
 While party-col or'd shreds of happiness, 
 With hideous gaps between, patch up for them 
 A madman's robe ; each puff of fortune blows 
 Their tatters by, and shows their nakedness. 
 
 4. He sees with other eyes than theirs ; where they 
 Behold a sun, he spies a Deity ; 
 
 What makes them only smile, makes him adore. 
 Where they see mountains, he but atoms sees ; 
 An empire, in his balance, weighs a grain. 
 They things terrestrial worship as divine : 
 His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust. 
 That dims his sight and shortens his survey, 
 Which longs, in infinite, to lose all bound. 
 
 5. Titles and honors (if they prove his fate) 
 He lays aside to find his dignity ; 
 
 No dignity they find in aught besides. 
 They triumph in externals, (which conceal 
 Man's real glory,) proud of an eclipse : 
 Himself too much he prizes to be proud ; 
 And nothing thinks so great in man, as man. 
 Too dear he holds his int'rest, to neglect 
 Another's welfare, or his right invade ; 
 Their int'rest, like a lion, lives on prey. 
 
 6. They kindle at the shadow of a wrong ; 
 Wrong he sustains with temper, looks on heav'n, 
 Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe. 
 
 Nought, but what wounds his virtue, wounds his peace. 
 A cover'd heart their character defends ; 
 A cover'd heart denies him half his praise. 
 
 7. With nakedness his innocence agrees ! 
 While their broad foliage testifies their fall ! 
 Their no-joys end, where his full feast begins : 
 His joys create, their's murder, future bliss. 
 To triumph in existence, his alone ; 
 
 And his alone trium.phantly to think 
 
 His true existence is not yet begun. 
 
 His glorious course was, yesterday, complete : 
 
 Death, then, was welcome ; vet life still is sweet 
 
 LESSON CLXIH. 
 
 Hymn on a Review of the Seasons. — Thomson. 
 
 1. These, as they change. Almighty Father! these, 
 Are but the varied God. The rolling year 
 
312 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing spring 
 Thy beauty Avalks, thy tenderness and love. 
 "Wide flush the fields ; the soft'ning air is balm ; 
 Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles, 
 And ev'ry sense, and ev'ry heart is joy. 
 
 2. Then comes Thy glory in the summer months, 
 "With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun 
 Shoots full perfection thro' the swelling year ; 
 
 And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; 
 
 And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, 
 
 By brooks and groves, in hollow-whisp'ring gales. 
 
 3. Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfin'd, 
 And spreads a common feast for all that live. 
 In winter, awful Thou ! with clouds and storm 
 Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd. 
 Majestic darkness ! On the whirlwind's wing 
 Riding sublime, thou bidst the world adore ; 
 And humblest nature with Thy northern blast. 
 
 4. Mysterious round ! what skill, Avhat force divine, 
 Deep felt, in these appear ! a simple train, 
 
 Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, 
 Such beauty and beneficence combin'd; 
 Shade unperceived, so softening into shade, 
 And all so forming an harmonious whole, 
 That as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
 
 5. But wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
 Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand, 
 That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
 Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence 
 The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring ; 
 Flings from the sun direct the flaming day ; 
 
 Feeds ev'ry creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; 
 And, as on earth tliis grateful change revolves, 
 With transport touches all the springs of life. 
 
 6. Nature, attend ! join every living soul. 
 Beneath the spacious temple of the sky : 
 In adoration join ! and, ardent, raise 
 
 One general song ! 
 
 Ye, chief,* for whom the whole creation smiles. 
 At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, 
 Crown the great hynm ! 
 
 7. For me, when I forget the darling theme, 
 Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray 
 
 » The suiL " 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 313 
 
 Russets the plain ; inspiring autumn gleams ; 
 Or winter rises in the black'ning east ; 
 Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more, 
 And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat ! 
 
 8. Should fate command me to the farthest verge 
 Of the green earth, to distant barb'rous climes^ 
 Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun 
 Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
 Flames on th' Atlantic Isles ; 'tis nought to me ; 
 Since God is ever present, ever felt. 
 
 In the void waste as in the city full ; 
 
 And where h-e vital breathes there must be joy. 
 
 9. When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come. 
 And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
 
 I cheerful will obey ; there, with new pow'rs, 
 
 Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 
 
 Where universal love not smiles around, 
 
 Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns ; 
 
 From seeming evil still educing good. 
 
 And better thence again, and better still, 
 
 In infinite progression. But 1 lose 
 
 Myself in him, in light inefiable ! 
 
 Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise. 
 
 LESSON CLXIV. 
 
 Questions and Answers. — Montgomery. 
 
 Q. Flowers, — wherefore do ye bloom ? 
 A. — We strew thy pathway to the tomb. 
 
 Q. Stars, — wherefore do ye rise ? 
 A. — To light thy spirit to the skies. 
 
 Q. Fair Moon — why dost thou wane ? 
 A. — That I may wax again. 
 
 Q. O Sun, — what makes thy beams so bright ? 
 A, — ^The Word that said,—" Let there be light" 
 
 Q. Planets, — what guides you in your course ? 
 'A. — Unseen, unfelt, unfailing force. 
 
 Q. Nature, — whence sprang thy glorious frame ? 
 A. — My Maker call'd me, and I came. 
 
 Q. O Light, — thy subtile essence who may know ? 
 A. — Ask not ; for all things but myself I show. 
 
 87 
 
314 * NATIONAL PRECEPTOR, 
 
 Q. What is yon arch which every where I see 1 
 
 A, — The sign of omnipresent Deity. 
 
 Q. Where rests the horizon's all-embracing zone ? 
 
 A. — Where earth, God's footstool, touches heaven, his 
 
 throne. 
 Q. Ye cl«iids, — what bring ye in your train ? 
 A. — God's embassies, — storm — lightning — hail — or rain. 
 Q. Winds, — whence and whither do ye blow ? 
 A. — Thou must be born again to know. 
 Q. Bow in the cloud, — what- token dost thou bear? 
 A. — That Justice still cries ^^ strike" and Mercy '■^ spared'' 
 Q. Dev/s of the morning, — wherefore were ye given ? 
 A. — To shine on earth, then rise to heaven. 
 Q. Rise, glitter, break ; yet, Bubble, tell me whj- ? 
 A. — To show the course of all beneath the sky. 
 Q. Stay, Meteor, stay thy falling fire ! 
 A. — No, thus shall all the host of heaven expire. 
 Q. Ocean, — what law thy chainless waves confined ? 
 A, — That which in Reason's limits, holds thy mind. 
 Q. Time, — whither dost thou flee ? 
 A. — I travel to Eternity. 
 
 (Q. Eternity, — what art thou ? — say. ^ 
 
 A. — Time past, time present, time to come, — to-day\ 
 Q. Ye Dead, — where can your dwelling be ? 
 A, — ^The house for all the living ; — come and see. 
 Q. O Life, — what is thy breath ? 
 A. — A vapor, lost in death. 
 Q. O Death, — how ends thy strife ? 
 A. — In everlasting life. 
 Q. O Grave, — where is thy victory ? 
 A. —Ask him who rose aofain from me. 
 
 LESSON CLXV. 
 
 On the Death of Mrs. Mason. — Mason. 
 
 1. Take, holy earth ! all that my soul holds dear : 
 Take that best gift, which heaven so lately gave : 
 To Bristol's fount I bore, Avith trembling care. 
 Her faded form. She bow'd to taste the wave, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 315 
 
 2. And died. Does youth, does beauty read the line ? 
 
 Does sympathetic fear their breast alarm ? 
 Speak, dead Maria ! breathe a strain divine ; 
 
 E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm. 
 
 3. Bid them be chaste, be innocent like thee ; 
 
 Bid them in duty's sphere, as meekly move : 
 And if as fair, from vanity as free. 
 
 As firm in friendship, and as fond in love : 
 
 4. Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die, 
 
 ('Twas e'en to thee) yet the dread path once trod, 
 Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, 
 
 And bids the " pure in heart behold their God." 
 
 LESSON CLXVI. 
 
 Ode from the IQth Psalm, — Addison. 
 
 1. The spacious firmament on high, 
 With all the blue etherial sky, 
 And-spangled heavens, a shining frame, 
 Their great original proclaim. 
 
 Th' unwearied sun, from day to day. 
 Does his Creator's power display ; 
 And publishes to ev'ry land, 
 The work of an Almighty hand. 
 
 2. Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
 The moon takes up the wond'rous tale, 
 And, nightly, to the list'ning earth, 
 Repeats the story of her birth ; 
 Whilst all the stars that round her burn, 
 And all the planets in their turn, 
 Confirm the tidings as they roll. 
 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole. 
 
 3. What though, in solemn silence, all 
 Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 
 What though no real voice nor sound 
 Amid these radiant orbs be found ? 
 In reason's ear they all rejoice. 
 
 And utter forth a glorious voice, 
 
 Forever singing, as they shine, 
 
 " The hand that made us is divine." 
 
316 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON CLXVIL 
 
 Rest in Heaven, — Anonymous. 
 
 1. Should sorrow o'er thy brow 
 
 Its darken'd shadows fling, 
 And hopes that cheer thee now, 
 
 Die in their early spring ; 
 Should pleasure at its birth 
 
 Fade like the hues of even. 
 Turn thou away from earth, 
 
 There's rest for thee in Heaven. 
 
 2. If ever life shall seem 
 
 To thee a toilsome way, 
 And gladness cease to beam 
 
 Upon its clouded day ; 
 If like the weary dove 
 
 O'er shoreless ocean driven ; 
 Raise thou thine eye above. 
 
 There's rest for thee in Heaven. 
 
 3. But O if thornless flowers 
 
 Throughout thy pathway bloom, 
 And gaily fleet the hours, 
 
 Unstain'd by earthly gloom. 
 Still let not every thought 
 
 To this poor world be given, 
 Nor always be forgot 
 
 Thy better rest in Heaven. 
 
 4. When sickness pales thy cheek, 
 
 And dims thy lustrous eye, 
 And pulses low and weak, 
 
 Tell of a time to die ; 
 Sweet hope shall whisper then — 
 
 " Though thou from earth be riven, 
 " There's bliss beyond thy ken, 
 
 " There's rest for thee in Heaven." 
 
 LESSON CLXVIII. 
 
 The Star of Bethlehem.— U. K. White. 
 
 1 When marshalled on the nightly plain, 
 The glittering host bestud the sky ; 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 317 
 
 One star alone, of all the train, 
 
 Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. 
 Hark ! Hark ! to God the chorus breaks. 
 
 From every host, from every gem ; 
 But one alone the Saviour speaks, 
 
 It is the star of Bethlehem. 
 
 2. Once on the raging seas I rode, 
 
 The storm was loud ; — the night was dark. 
 The ocean yawned — and rudely blow'd 
 
 The wind that toss'd my foundering bark. 
 De'ep horror then my vitals froze. 
 
 Death struck, I ceased the tide to stem ; 
 When suddenly a star arose, 
 
 It was the star of Bethlehem. 
 
 3. It was my guide, my light, my all. 
 
 It bade my dark forebodings cease : 
 And through the storm and danger's thrall, 
 
 It led me to the port of peace. 
 Now, safely moor'd — my perils o'er, 
 
 I'll sing, first in night's diadem, 
 For ever and for ever more, 
 
 The star, the star of Bethlehem ! 
 
 LESSON CLXIX. 
 
 Address to Time, — Lord Byron. 
 
 1. Oh Time ! the beautifier of the dead, 
 Adorner of the ruin, comforter 
 
 And only healer v/hen the heart hath bled — 
 Time ! the corrector where our judgments err, 
 The test of truth, love, — sole philosopher, 
 For all beside are sophists, from thy thrift, 
 Which never loses tho' it doth defer — 
 Time, the avenger ! unto thee I lift 
 My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift 
 
 2. Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine 
 And temple more divinely desolate, 
 
 Among thy mightier oflferings here are mine, 
 Ruins of years — tho' few — yet full of fate :— 
 if thou hast ever seen me too elate, 
 
 27* 
 
318 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Hear me not ; but if calmly I have borne 
 Good, and reserved my pride against the hate 
 Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn 
 This iron in my soul in vain — shall they not mourn ? 
 
 3. And thou, who never yet of human wrong- 
 Lost the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis !* 
 Here Avhere the ancient paid thee homage long — 
 Thou, who didst call the Furiesf from the abyss, 
 And round Orestes| bade them howl and hiss 
 For that unnatural retribution — ^just, 
 
 Had it but been from hands less near — in this 
 Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust ! 
 Dost thou not hear my heart? — Awake, thou shalt and must 
 
 4. It is not, that I may not have incurr'd 
 
 For my ancestral faults, or mine, the wound 
 I bleed withal, and had it been conferral 
 With a just weapon, it had flowed unbound ; 
 But now my blood shall not sink in the ground ; 
 To thee do I devote it — thou shalt take 
 The vengeance which shall yet be sought and found, 
 Which if / have not taken for the sake — 
 But let that pass — /sleep, but thou shalt yet awake. 
 
 5. And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now, 
 I shrink from what is sufl'ered : let him speak 
 Wlio hath beheld decline upon my brow, 
 
 Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak ; 
 But in this page a record will I seek. 
 Not in the air shall these my words disperse, 
 Tho' I be ashes ; a far hour shall wreak 
 The deep prophetic fulness of this verse, . 
 And pile on human heads the mountain of 7ny curse, 
 
 6. That curse shall be forgiveness. — Have I not — 
 Hear me, my mother Earth ! behold it heaven ! — 
 
 ♦ Nem'-e-sis, the goddess of justice among the Greeks and Romans, usu- 
 ally represented with a pair of scak^s in one hand, and a whip in the other. 
 
 t Furies, three fiibulous deities, called jroddesses of horror. Their ofiice 
 was to observe and jmiiish the actions of bad men, and torment the con- 
 sciences of secret ofll'iiders. 
 
 t Orestes was the son of Agamemnon, a distinguished hero at the siege 
 of Troy, who was killed, on his return to Greece, by his wife'awd iEgisr.hu«, 
 her base lover. Orestes, to avenge the death of his father, slew his mother ; 
 for which act he was pursued by the Furies, and suffered the most excru- 
 ciatlug torments. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 319 
 
 Have I not had to wrestle with my lot ? 
 Have I not suffered things to be forgiven ? 
 Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven, 
 Hopes snapp'd, name blighted,- Life's life lied av/ay? 
 And only not. to desperation driven. 
 Because not altogether of such clay 
 As rots into the souls of those whom I survey. 
 
 7. But I have lived, and have not lived in vain : 
 My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire, 
 And my frame perish even in conquering pain ; 
 But there is that within me which shall tire 
 Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire ; 
 Something unearthly, which they deem not of, 
 Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre, 
 Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move 
 
 In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of love. 
 
 LESSON CLXX. 
 
 Absalom.* — Willis. 
 
 \. The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low 
 On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled 
 Their glassy rings beneath it7 like the still. 
 Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. 
 The reeds bent down the stream : the willow leaves, 
 With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide. 
 Forgot the lifting winds ; and the long stems. 
 Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse. 
 Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way. 
 And leaned, in graceful attitudes, to rest. 
 How strikingly the course of nature tells, 
 ,By its light heed of human suffering, 
 That it was fiishioned fur a happier world ! 
 
 2. King David's limbs were weary. He had fled 
 From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood, 
 With his faint people, for a little rest 
 Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind 
 Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow 
 To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn 
 The mourner's covering, and he had not felt 
 That he could see his people until now. 
 ♦ See 2 Samuel, chap, xviii. 
 
320 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 They gathered round him on the fresh green bank. 
 And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun 
 Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, 
 And bowed his head upon his h»ands to pray. 
 
 3. Oh ! when the heart is full — when bitter thoughts 
 Come crowding thickly up for utterance. 
 
 And the poor common words of courtesy 
 
 Are such a very mockery — how much 
 
 The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer ! 
 
 He prayed for Israel ; and his voice went up 
 
 Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those 
 
 Whose love had been his shield ; and his deep tones 
 
 Grew trennilous. But, oh ! fur Absalom — 
 
 For his estranged, misguided Absalom — 
 
 The proud, bright being, who had burst away, 
 
 In all his princely beauty, to defy 
 
 The heart that cherished him — for him he poured, 
 
 In agony that would not be controlled. 
 
 Strong supplication, and forgave him there. 
 
 Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. 
 
 # # * * * 
 
 4. The pall was settled. He who slept beneath, 
 Was straightened for the grave ; and, as the folds 
 Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed 
 
 The matchless symmetry of Absalom. 
 
 His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls 
 
 Were floating round the tassels as they swayed 
 
 To t)ie admitted air, as glossy now. 
 
 As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing 
 
 The snowy fingers of Judea's girls. 
 
 His helm was at his feet; his banner, soiled 
 
 With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid 
 
 Reversed, beside him; and the jewelled hilt. 
 
 Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade. 
 
 Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow. 
 
 5. The soldiers of the king trod to and fro, 
 Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief. 
 The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier, 
 And orazcd upon the dark pall steadfastly. 
 
 As if he feared the slumberer might stir. 
 
 A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade 
 
 As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form 
 
 Of David entered, and he gave command, 
 
 In a low tone, to his few followers, 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 32^ 
 
 And left him with his dead. The king stood still 
 Till the last echo died : then, throwing off 
 The sackloth from his brow, and laying back 
 The pall from the still features of his child, 
 He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth 
 In the resistless eloquence of wo : — 
 
 6. " Alas ! my noble boy ! that thou should'st die i 
 
 Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! 
 That death should settle in thy glorious eye, 
 
 And leave his stillness in this clustering hair ! 
 How could he mark thee for the silent tomb, 
 My proud boy, Absalom ! 
 
 7. " Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill 
 
 As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. 
 How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill. 
 
 Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, 
 And hear thy sweet ' my father'' from these dumb 
 And cold lips, Absalom ! 
 
 8. " The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush. 
 
 Of music, and the voices of the young ; 
 And life will pass me in the mantling blush. 
 
 And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; — 
 But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come 
 To meet me, Absalom ! 
 
 9. " And, oh ! when I am stricken, and my heart, 
 
 Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken. 
 How will its love for thee, as I depart. 
 
 Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token I 
 It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, 
 To see thee, Absalom ! 
 
 10 " And now, farewell ! 'Tis hard to give thee up, 
 With death so like a gentle slumber on thee : — 
 And thy dark sin ! — Oh ! I could drink the cup, 
 
 If from this wo its bitterness had won thee. 
 May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
 My erring Absalom !" 
 
 H. He covered up his face and bowed himself 
 A moment on his child ; then, giving him 
 A look of melting tenderness, he clasped 
 His hands convulsively, as if in prayer ; 
 
322 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 And, as a strength were given him of God, 
 He rose up cahnly, and composed the pall 
 Firmly and decently, and left him there, 
 As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. 
 
 LESSON CLXXI. 
 
 The Miami Mounds* — S. L. Fairfield. 
 
 1. Wrecks of lost nations! monuments of deeds, 
 Immortal once — but all forgotten now ! 
 Mysterious ruins of a race unknown. 
 
 As proud of ancestry, and pomp, and fame — 
 Prouder, perchance, than those who ponder here 
 O'er what their wild conjectures cannot solve ! 
 Who raised these moulderino- battlements ? who trod 
 In jealous glory on these ruined walls ? — 
 Who reigned, who triumphed, or who perished here ? 
 What scenes of revelry, and mirth, and crime, 
 And love, and hate, and bliss, and bale, have passed ? 
 Ah ? none can tell. 
 
 2. Oblivion's dusky folds 
 Shroud all the past, and none may lift the pall ; 
 Or, if they could^ what would await the eye 
 Of antique research, but the flcshless forms 
 
 Of olden time : dark giant bones that tell — 
 Nothing ! dim mysteries of the earth and air ! 
 Since human passions met in conflict here, 
 The woods of centuries have grown — and oft 
 And long, the timid deer hath b<umded o'er 
 The sepulchre of warriors, and wild birds 
 Sung notes of love o'er slaughter's crimson field, 
 And the gaunt wolf, and catamount, and fox. 
 Have made their couches in the 'mbattlcd towers 
 Of dauntless chiefs, nor dreamt of danijer there ! 
 
 ♦ In various pirts of the Wostorn States, numerous remains of fortifica- 
 tions, and mounds of earth, have been discovered, which have excited the 
 astonishment and curiosity of all v^ho have seen them. Some of these forti- 
 fications are suiall, while others encloh;e 40 or 50 acres of land. The mounds 
 are built in the form of a sugar loaf, and were undoubtedly iKed for burying 
 places, as they are found to contuin human bones. They must have Inien 
 built at a very reniote period, as trees several hundred years old are often 
 seen growinjT ujxin them, and the present race of Indians have no tradition 
 respecting their orijjin. They indicate great labor, and were evidently the 
 work of a people who had made some advances in civilization, and who 
 potisessed considerable knowledge in the business of fortifications. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 323 
 
 Princes and kings — the wise, the great, the good. 
 May slumber here, and blend their honored dust 
 With Freedom's soil ; and navies may have rode 
 On the same wave that bears our starry sails. 
 
 3. Here heroes may have bled to win a name 
 On Glory's sunbright scroll, and prophets watched 
 Their holy shrines, whose lires no longer glow. 
 Sweet rose and woodbine bowers around these walls 
 May once have bloomed, less fragrant and less fair 
 Than the fond hearts that blended, and the lips 
 That pressed in passion's rapture ; and these airs, 
 That float unconscious by, may have been born 
 
 Of gales, that bore Love's soft enchanting words. 
 But all is silent now as Death's own halls ! 
 
 4. Empires have perish'd where these forests tower 
 In desolate array — and nations sunk. 
 
 With all their glories, to the darkling gulf 
 Of cold forgetfulness ! But what avails 
 The uncertain guess, the dark and wildering search 
 For those whose spirits have but passed away 
 To the dark land of shadows and of dreams, 
 An hour before our own ? Why in amaze 
 Behold these shattered walls, when other times 
 Shall hang in wondering marvel o'er our own 
 Proud cities, and enquire — " Who builded these V* 
 
 LESSON CLXXII. 
 On Time.—n. K. White. 
 
 1. Who needs a teacher to admonish him 
 That flesh is grass ? — That earthly things are mist ? 
 What are our joys but dreams ? And what our hopes 
 But goodly shadows in the summer cloud ? 
 There's not a wind that blows, but bears with it 
 Some rainbow promise. — Not a moment flies 
 But puts its sickle in the fields of life. 
 And mows its thousands, with their joys and cares. 
 
 2. 'li*s but as yesterday, since on yon stars, 
 Which now I view, the Chaldee shepherd* gaz'd 
 In his mid-watch, observant, and dispos'd 
 The twinkling hosts, as fancy g ave them shape. 
 
 ♦ Alluding to the first Astronomical observations, made by the Chaldean 
 Bhepherds. 
 
324 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Yet in the interim, what mighty shocks 
 Have buffetted mankind — whole nations razed — 
 Cities made desolate — the polished sunk 
 To barbarism, and once barbaric states 
 Swaying the wand of science and of arts ; 
 Illustrious deeds and memorable names 
 Blotted from record, and upon the tongue 
 Of grey tradition, voluble no more. 
 
 3. Where are the heroes of the ages past ; 
 Where the brave chieftains — where the mighty ones 
 Who flourished in the infancy of days ? — 
 
 All to the grave gone down ! — On their fall'n fame 
 
 Exultant, mocking at the pride of man, 
 
 Sits grim For getf vines s. — The warrior's ai-m 
 
 Lies nerveless on the pillow of its shame ; 
 
 Hush'd is his stormy voice, and quenched the blaze 
 
 Of his red eye-ball. 
 
 4. Yesterday his name 
 
 Was mighty on the earth — To-day — 'tis what ? 
 The meteor of the night of distant years, 
 That flash'd unnotic'd, save by wrinkled eld 
 Musing at midnight upon prophecies. 
 Who at her lonely lattice saw the gleam 
 Point to the mist-pois'd shroud, then quietly 
 Clos'd her pale lips, and lock'd the secret up 
 Safe in the charnel's treasures. 
 
 5. O how weak 
 Is mortal man ! How trifling — how confin'd 
 His scope of vision ! — Pufi^'d with confidence, 
 His phrase grows big with immortality ; 
 And he, poor insect of a summer's day, 
 Dreams of eternal honors to his name ; 
 
 Of endless glory, and perennial bays. 
 He idly reasons of Eternity, 
 As of the train of ages, — when, alas ! ^ 
 Ten thousand thousand of his centuries 
 Are, in comparison, a little point, 
 Too trivial for account. 
 
 6. O it is strange, • 
 'Tis passing strange, to mark his fallacies ; 
 Behold him proudly view some pompous pile, 
 Whose high dome swells to emulate the skies, 
 And smile and say, my name shall live with this, 
 Till Time shall be no more ; while at his feet. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 325 
 
 Yea, at his very feet, the crumbling dust 
 
 Of the fall'n fabric of the other day, 
 
 Preaches the solemn lesson. — He should know, 
 
 That time must conquer. That the loudest blast 
 
 That ever fiU'd Renown's obstrep'rous trump, 
 
 Fades in the lapse of ages, and expires. ' 
 
 Who lies inhum'd in the terrific gloom 
 
 Of the gigantic pyramid ? Or who 
 
 Rear'd its huge wall ? — Oblivion laughs and says, 
 
 The prey is mine. They sleep, and never more 
 
 Their names shall strike upon the ear of man, 
 
 Their mem'ry bursts its fetters. 
 
 7. Where is Rome ? 
 She lives but in the tale of other times ; 
 
 Her proud pavilions are the hermits' home. 
 And her long colonades, her public walks, 
 Now faintly echo to the pilgrim's feet. 
 Who comes to muse in solitude, and trace. 
 Through the rank moss reveal'd, her honored dust. 
 
 8. But not to Rome alone has fate confin'd 
 The doom of ruin ; cities numberless. 
 Tyre, Sidon, Carthage, Babylon, and Troy, 
 And rich Phoenicia — they are blotted out, 
 Half-raz'd from memory ; and their very name 
 And being in dispute ! 
 
 LESSON CLXXHL 
 
 JuguTtha* in Prison. — Rev. C. Wolfe. 
 \. Well — is the rack prepared — the pincers heated? 
 Where is the scourge ? — How ? — not employed in Rome ? 
 
 * Jugurtha was the son of Mastanabal and grand-son of the famous Mas- 
 sinissa, king of Numidia. His father having died while he was yet a child, 
 he was taken by his uncle Micipsa and educated with his two sons, Hiemp- 
 sal and Adherbal. At the death of Micipsa, the kingdom of Numidia waa 
 divided equally between Jugurtha and his two cousins. Jugurtha, greatly 
 in favor with the people, and ambitious to possess the kingdom alone, mur- 
 dered Hiempsal, and sought to do the same by Adherbal, who fled to Rome 
 for succor. The Roman senate, being highly bribed, not only declared 
 Jugurtha innocent, but decreed him the sovereignty of half the kingdom. 
 Soon after this, he besieged Adherbal in Cirta, the capital of the kingdom, 
 took him, and cruelly put him to death. This drew on him the vengeance 
 of the Romans. Being defeated several times by the army under the consul 
 Marius, he applied to Bocchus, his father-in-law, king of Mauritania, for 
 assistance, by whom he was betrayed into the hands of the Romans. He 
 wag led in chains to Rome to grace the triumph of Marius. The senate con- 
 demned him to be starved to death in a dungeon, where he died, B. C. 103. 
 
 28 
 
326 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 "We have them in Niimidia. Not in Rome ? 
 
 I'm sorry for it ; — I could enjoy it now ; 
 
 I might have felt them yesterday ; but now, — 
 
 Now, I have seen my funeral procession ; 
 
 The chariot-wheels of Marius* have roll'd o'er me ; 
 
 His horses' hoofs have trampled me in triumph ; 
 
 I have attain'd that terrible consummation, 
 
 My soul could stand aloof, and from on high 
 
 Look down upon the ruins of my body 
 
 Smiling in apathy ; — I feel no longer ; 
 
 I challenge Rome to give another pang. 
 
 Oh ! how he smiled, when he beheld me pause 
 
 Before his car, and scowl upon the mob ; 
 
 The curse of Rome was burning on my lips, 
 
 And I had gnaw'd my chain, and hurl'd it at them, 
 
 But that I knew he would have smiled again. 
 
 2. A king ! and led before the gaudy Marius, 
 Before those shouting masters of the world. 
 
 As if I had been conquered : while each street, 
 Each peopled wall, and each insulting window, 
 Peal'd forth their brawling triumphs o'er my head. 
 Oh ! for a lion from thy woods, Numidia ! — 
 Or had I, in that moment of disgrace, 
 Enjoy'd the freedom but of yonder slave, 
 I would have made my monument in Rome. 
 Yet I am not that fool, that Roman fool. 
 To think disgrace entombs the hero's soul, — 
 Forever damps his fires, and dims his glories ; 
 That no bright laurel can adorn the brow 
 That once has bow'd ; no victory's trumpet-sound 
 Can drown in joy the rattling of his chains. 
 
 3. What avails it now, 
 That my proud views despised the narrow limits. 
 Which minds that span and measure out ambition 
 Had fixed to mine ; and, M'hile I seemed intent 
 On savage subjects and Numidian forests. 
 
 My soul had pass'd the bounds of Africa ! — 
 
 ♦ Caius Marius, a distinguished Roman general. He was seven times 
 consul. Dissensions having arisen between him and Sylla, Marius and his 
 party were defeated, and he was obliged to flee from Italy. After various 
 disasters, he landed in Africa, and went in a melancholy manner and seated 
 himself among the ruins of Carthage. His party, headed by Cinna, gain- 
 ing the ascendency, he returned to Rome, and put to death all whom be 
 considered his enemies. Marius assumed the consulship, but died about one 
 month after, in a fit of debauch, aged 70 — B. C. 86. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 327 
 
 Defeated ! — overthrown ! — yet to the last 
 
 Ambition taught me hope ; and still my mind, 
 
 Through danger, flight, and carnage, grasp'd dominion; 
 
 And had not Bocchus — curses, curses on him ! — 
 
 What Rome has done, she did it for ambition ; 
 
 What Rome has done, I might — I would have done ; 
 
 What thou hast done, thou wretch ! — Oh had she proved 
 
 Nobly deceitful : had she seized the traitor, 
 
 And joined him with the fate of the betrayed, 
 
 I had forgiven her all ; for he had been 
 
 The consolation of my prison hours ; 
 
 I could forget my woes in stinging him ; 
 
 And if, before this day, his little soul 
 
 Had not in bondage wept itself away, 
 
 Rome and Jugurtha should have triumphed o'er him. 
 
 4. Look here, thou caitiflf,* if thou canst, and see 
 The fragments of Jugurtha ; — view him wrapt 
 
 In the last shred he borrow'd from Numidia ; 
 
 'Tis cover'd with the dust of Rome ; — behold 
 
 His rooted gaze upon the chains he wears. 
 
 And on the channels they have wrought upon him ; 
 
 Then look around upon his dungeon walls. 
 
 And view yon scanty mat, on which his frame 
 
 He flings, and rushes from his thoughts to sleep. 
 
 5. Sleep ! 
 I'll sleep no more, until I sleep forever : 
 When I slept last, I heard Adherbal scream. 
 I'll sleep no more ! I'll thmk until I die : 
 My eyes shall pore upon my miseries, 
 Until my miseries shall be no more. 
 
 Yet wherefore did he scream? Why, I have heard 
 
 His living scream, — it was not half so frightful. 
 
 Whence comes the difference ? When the man was living, 
 
 Why, I did gaze upon his couch of torments 
 
 With placid vengeance, and each anguish'd cry 
 
 Gave me stern satisfaction ; now he's dead, 
 
 And his lips move not : — yet his voice's image 
 
 Flash'd such a dreadful darkness o'er my soul, 
 
 I would not hear that fearful cry aorain 
 
 For the high glory of Numidia's throne. 
 
 6. But ah ! 'twas I that caused that living' scream, 
 And therefore did its ecJio seem so frightful : — 
 
 If 'twere to do again, I would not kill thee ; 
 
 * Pronounced ca-ti^ a base villain — meaning Bocchus. 
 
338 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 Wilt thou not be contented ? — But thou say'st, 
 
 " My father was to thee a father also ; 
 
 He watch'd thy infant years, and gave thee all 
 
 That youth could ask, and scarcely manhood came. 
 
 Than came a kingdom also ; yet didst thou" — 
 
 Oh I am faint ! — they have not brought me food — 
 
 How did I not perceive it until now ? 
 
 Hold, — my Numidian cruse is still about me — 
 
 No drop within — Oh, faithful friend, companion 
 
 Of many a weary march and thirsty day ; 
 
 *Tis the first time that thou hast fail'd my lips, — 
 
 7. Gods ! I'm in tears ! — I did not think of weeping. 
 Oh Marius, wilt thou ever feel like this ? 
 Ha ! I behold the ruin of a city ; 
 And on a craggy fragment sits a form 
 That seems in ruins also ; how unmoved, 
 How stern he looks ! Amazement ! it is Marius. 
 Ha ! Marius, think'st thou now upon Jugurtha ? 
 He turns ! he's caught my eye ! — I see no more ! 
 
 LESSON CLXXIV. 
 
 RienzVs* Address to the Romans. — Miss Mitford. 
 
 1. Friends, 
 
 I come not here to talk. Ye know too well 
 The story of our thraldom. We are slaves ! 
 The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
 A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam 
 Falls on a slave ; not such as, swept along 
 By the full tide of power, the conqueror led 
 To crimson glory and undying fame ; 
 But base, ignoble slaves — slaves to a horde 
 Of petty tyrants, feudal despots ! lords 
 Rich in some dozen paltry villages — 
 Strong in some hundred spearmen — only great 
 In that strange spell — a name. 
 
 2. Each hour, dark fraud, 
 Or open rapine, or protected murder, 
 
 * Nicolas Gahrini de Rienzi, a remarkable character of the 14th century; 
 He was the son of an obscure miller, yet by his zeal in opposing the existing 
 vices, and by persuading his friends that he was able to restore the ancient 
 glory of his country, he gained the supreme power ; and was declared sove- 
 reign of Rome, with the approbation of the Pope. This excited the jealousy 
 of the nobles, and he was murdered in 1354. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 329 
 
 Cry out against them. But this very day, 
 
 An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands, 
 
 Was struck, struck like a dog, by one who wore 
 
 The badge of Ursini* ; because, forsooth, 
 
 He tossed not high his ready cap in air. 
 
 Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 
 
 At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men. 
 
 And suffer such dishonor — Men, and wash not 
 
 The stain away in blood ? Such shames are common : 
 
 I have known deeper wrongs. 
 
 .- 3. I, that speak to ye, 
 
 I had a brother once, a gracious boy. 
 
 Full of gentleness, of calmest hope. 
 
 Of sweet and quiet joy — there was the look 
 
 Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 
 
 *To the beloved disciple.' How I loved 
 
 That gracious boy ! Younger by fifteen years, 
 
 Brother at once and- son ! ' He left my side ; 
 
 A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, — a smile 
 
 Parting his innocent lips.' In one short hour 
 
 The pretty, harmless boy was slain ! I saw 
 
 The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
 
 For vengeance ! 
 
 4. Rouse, ye Romans ! — Rouse, ye slaves ! 
 
 Have ye brave sons ? — Look in the next fierce brawl 
 To see them die. Have ye fair daughters ? — Look 
 To see them live, torn from your arms, distained. 
 Dishonored ; and if ye dare call for justice. 
 Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome, 
 That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne 
 Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet, we are Romans ! 
 Why in that elder day to be a Roman 
 Was greater than a king ! And once again, — 
 Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
 Of either Brulusf ! once again, I swear. 
 The eternal city shall be free ; her sons 
 Shall walk with princes ! 
 
 ♦ Ursini, a Roman nobleman. 
 
 t Lucius Junius Brutus, one who expelled the Tarquins, and abolished 
 the regal government at Rome, B. C. 509. 
 
 Marcus Junius Brutus, one of the conspirators who assassinated Julins 
 Cesar. 
 
 28* 
 
330 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 LESSON CLXXV. 
 
 Battle of Waterloo* — Lord Byron. 
 
 L There was a sound of revelry by night, 
 And Belgium's capitalt had gathered then 
 Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
 The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : 
 A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
 Music arose with its voluptuous swell. 
 Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again. 
 And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
 But hush! hark ! — a deep sound strikes like a rising knelL 
 
 2. Did ye not hear it ? — No ; 'twas but the wind, 
 Or the car ratlling o'er the stony street : 
 
 On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
 
 No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 
 
 To chase the glowing hours with flying feet — 
 
 But, hark ! — that heavy sound breaks in once more. 
 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat. 
 
 And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before ! 
 
 Arm ! arm ! it is — it is — the cannon'' s opening roar ! 
 
 3. Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
 And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
 And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
 Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness : 
 And there were sudden partings, such as press 
 The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
 Which ne'er miglit be repeated — who could guess 
 If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, 
 
 Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? 
 
 4. And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed. 
 The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, 
 Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
 And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; 
 
 And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ; 
 
 ♦ Waterloo, a town of Bclfjium, 12 miles south of Brussels. It is well 
 known as the scene of one of the most important and hard fought battles in 
 modern times, between the allied British, German, and Belgic troops, under 
 tho duke of Wellington and marshal Blucher ; and the Frencli, under Na- 
 poleon Bonaparte, June 18th, 1815. The French were totally defeutud, aiid 
 the hopes of Bonaparte for ever blasted, 
 
 t Brussels, one of the most splendid cities in Europe, celebrated for ita 
 manufacture of carpets. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 331 
 
 And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
 Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
 While thronored the citizens with terror dumb. 
 Or whispering with white lips — " The foe ! They come ! 
 they come !" 
 
 5. And Ardennes* waves above them her green leaves. 
 Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
 Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 
 
 Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! 
 
 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass 
 
 Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 
 
 In its next verdure, when this fiery mass 
 
 Of living valor rolling on the foe. 
 
 And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. 
 
 6. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 
 Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay, 
 
 The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, 
 
 The morn the marshalling in arms, — the day, 
 
 Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 
 
 The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent. 
 
 The earth is covered thick with other clay, 
 
 Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, 
 
 Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent I 
 
 LESSON CLXXVI. 
 
 The Power of Eloquence, — Gary. 
 
 1. Heard ye those loud contending waves. 
 
 That shook Cecropia'sf pillar'd state ? 
 Saw ye the mighty from their graves 
 
 Look up and tremble at her fate ? 
 Who shall calm the angry storm ? 
 Who the mighty task perform. 
 
 And bid the raging tumult cease ? 
 8e8 the son of Hermes^ rise ; 
 With syren tongue, and speaking eyes. 
 
 Hush the noise, and sooth to peace ! 
 
 * Ardennea, a chain (.f mountains between the Meuse and Moselle rivera, 
 trr tlio. ^and-duchy of Luxemburg. 
 
 t Athens, the ancient capital of Attica, was founded by Cecrops, 1550 
 years E O., and was called Cecropia till the time of Ericthonius, when it 
 received the name of Alliens. 
 
 t Demosthenes, the Grecian orator, called the son of Hermes, because 
 Hermes, or Mercury, was the god of eloquence. 
 
332 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 2. Lo ! from the regions of the North, 
 
 The reddening storm of battle pours ; 
 Rolls along the trembling earth, 
 
 Fastens on the Olynthian* towers. 
 *' Where rests the sword ? — where sleep the brave ? 
 Awake ! Cecropia's ally save 
 
 From the fury of the blast : 
 Burst the storm on Phocis' walls ; 
 Rise ! or Greece forever falls, 
 Up ! or Freedom breathes her last !" 
 
 3. The jarring States, obsequious now, 
 
 View the Patriot's hand on high ; 
 Thunder gathering on his brow. 
 
 Lightning flashing from his eye ! 
 Borne by the tide of words along, 
 One voice, one mind, inspire the throng 
 
 " To arms ! to arms ! to arms !" they cry, 
 " Grasp the shield, and draw the sword, 
 Lead us to Philippi's lord,t 
 
 Let us conquer him — or die !" 
 
 4. Ah ! Eloquence ! thou wast undone ; 
 
 Wast from thy native country driven, 
 When Tyranny eclips'd the sun, 
 
 And blotted out the stars of heaven. 
 When liberty from Greece withdrew, 
 And o'er the Adriatic flew. 
 
 To where the Tiber pours his urn, 
 She struck the rude Tarpeiant rock ; 
 Sparks were kindled by the shock- — 
 
 Again thy fires began to burn ! 
 
 5. Now shining forth, thou mad'st compliant 
 
 The Conscript Fathers to thy charms ; 
 Rous'd the world-bestriding giant, 
 
 Sinking fast in Slavery's arms ! 
 I see thoo stand by Freedom's fane. 
 Pouring the persuasive strain, 
 
 * Olynthus was a celebrated town of Macedonia, which was destroyed by 
 Philip, and rhe inlialiitants sold for slaves. 
 
 t Philip, king of Macedon. 
 
 X The Tarpeian rock is a hill at Rome, about 80 fret in perpendicular 
 height, whence condemned criminals were sometimes thrown. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 333 
 
 Giving vast conceptions birth ; 
 Hark ! I hear thy thunder's sound, 
 Shake the Forum round and round — 
 
 Shake the pillars of the earth ! 
 
 6. First-born of Liberty divine ! 
 
 Put on Religion'' s bright array \ 
 Speak ! and the starless grave shall shine 
 
 The portal of eternal day ! 
 Rise, kindling with the orient beam ; 
 Let Calvary^ skill inspire the theme ! 
 
 Unfold the garments roll'd in blood ! 
 O touch the soul, touch all her chords, 
 With all the omnipotence of words, 
 
 And point the way to Heaven — to God. 
 
 LESSON CLXXVIL 
 
 Death of Marco Bozzaris* — Halleck. 
 
 L At midnight, in his guarded tent, 
 
 The Turk was dreaming of the hour. 
 When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
 
 Should tremble at his power ; 
 In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
 The trophies of a conqueror ; 
 
 In dreams his song of triumph heard ; 
 Then w^ore his monarch's signet ring, — 
 Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king ; 
 As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 
 
 As Eden's garden bird. 
 
 % An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 
 
 That bright dream was his last ; 
 He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
 " To arms ! they come ! tlie Greek ! the Greek !" • 
 He woke — to die midst flame and smoke, 
 And shout, and groan, and sabre stroke, 
 
 And death shots falling thick and fast 
 As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
 And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 
 
 Bozzaris cheer his band ; 
 
 * He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Gamp at Laspi, the site of the 
 ancient Platfea, August 20, 1823, and expired in the moment of victory. 
 His last words were — " To die for Uberty is a pleasure, not a pain." 
 
334 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 " Strike — till the last armed foe expires, 
 Strike — for your altars and your fires, 
 Strike — for the green graves of your sires, 
 God — and your native land !" 
 
 3. They fought like brave men, long and well, 
 
 They piled that ground with Moslem slain, 
 They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 
 
 Bleeding at every vein. 
 His few sur^dving comrades saw 
 His smile, when rang their proud hurrah, 
 
 And the red field was won ; 
 Then saw in death his eyelids close. 
 Calmly, as to a night's repose, 
 
 Like flowers at set of sun. 
 
 4. Come to the bridal chamber. Death ! 
 
 Come to the mother, when she feels 
 For the first time her first-born's breath ; — 
 
 Come when the blessed seals 
 Which close the pestilence are broke. 
 And crowded cities wail its stroke ; — 
 Come in consumption's ghastly form, 
 The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; — 
 Come when the heart beats high and warm 
 
 With banquet-song, and dance, and wine. 
 And thou art terrible ; the tear, 
 The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier. 
 And all we know, or dream, or fear 
 
 Of agony, are thine. 
 
 5. But to the hero, when his sword 
 
 Has won the battle for the free. 
 Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
 And in its hollow tones are heard 
 
 The thanks of millions yet to be. 
 Bozzaris ! witli the storied brave 
 
 Greece nurtured in her glorj-'s time. 
 Rest thee — there is no prouder grave. 
 
 Even in her own proud clime. 
 
 We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
 For thou art Fredom's now, and Fame's— 
 One of the few, the immortal names, 
 
 That were not born to die. 
 
NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 335 
 
 LESSON CLXXVIIl. 
 
 Dream of Clarence. — Shakspeare« 
 
 1. O, I have passed a miserable night, 
 So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams, 
 That, as I am a Christian faithful man, 
 
 I would not spend another such a night, 
 Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days : 
 So full of dismal terror was the time. 
 
 2. Methought that I had broken from the tower, 
 And was embarked to cross to Burgundy, 
 
 And in my company my brother Gloucester,* 
 
 Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
 
 Upon the hatches. Thence we looked toward England 
 
 And cited up a tliousand heavy times, 
 
 During the wars of York and Lancaster, 
 
 That had befallen us. As we passed along 
 
 Upon the giddy footing of the hatclies, 
 
 Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling 
 
 Struck me (that sought to stay him) overboard, 
 
 Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
 
 3. O, then methought, what pain it was to drown ! 
 What dreadful noise of waters in my ears ! 
 
 What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
 
 Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; 
 
 A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon ; 
 
 Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl. 
 
 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels ; 
 
 All scattered in the bottom of the sea. 
 
 Some lay in dead men's sculls ; and in those holes 
 
 Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, 
 
 As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, 
 
 That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep, 
 
 And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. 
 
 4. Often did I strive 
 
 To yield the ghost ; but still the envious flood 
 Kept in my soul,. and would not let it forth 
 To find the empty, vast, and wandering air ; 
 But smother'd it within my panting bulk, 
 Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 
 
 5. My dream was lengthened after life ; 
 O, then began the tempest of my soul ; 
 
 ♦ Richard III. king of England, in 1483. 
 
336 NATIONAL PRECEPTOR. 
 
 I passed, methought, the melancholy flood, 
 With that grim ferryman which poets write of^ 
 Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
 The first that there did greet my stranger-soul, 
 Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, 
 
 Who cried aloud " What scourge for perjury 
 
 Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?" 
 And so he vanished. 
 
 6. Then came wandering by 
 
 A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
 
 Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked out aloud 
 
 " Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjured Clarence, 
 That stabbed me in the field by Tewkesbury ; 
 Seize on him, furies ! take him to your torments !" 
 With that, methought a legion of foul fiends 
 Environed me, and howled into mine ears 
 Such hideous cries, that with tlie very noise 
 I trembling waked ; and for a season after 
 Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
 Such terrible impression made my dream. 
 
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