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

7
6 6

•

High Pitch.

1
5

Middle Pitch.

•

Low Pitch.

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.

The following extract from the poems of Ossian is inserted as scored
by Dr. Rush:

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.

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

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.

201

237

241

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 !"

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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.

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 ?

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-

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.

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.

^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.

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.

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.

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.

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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