ty4^....!^..v: 
 
 COS 
 
 (r../'*:^.K... 
 
 GIFT OF 
 W. H. Ivie 
 
SANDERS' 
 
 UNION FIFTH READER: 
 
 EMBRACING A FULL EXPOSITION OF THE 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF RHETORICAL READING ; 
 
 NUMEROUS EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE, BOTH IN PROSE AND POETRY 
 
 FROM THE BEST WRITERS; AND WITH LITERARY AND 
 
 I?IOGRAPHICAL NOTES. 
 
 FOR y.HF, ,. , , , 
 
 HIGHER CLASSES IN SCHOOLS, ACADEMIES, ETC. 
 
 By CHARLES W. SANDERS, A.M., 
 
 AUTHOR Ot A SEKIE3 OK SCHOOL-READKUS, TOUNG LADIES' READER, Sl'EAKER, UMIOH 
 8PELLBR, ANALYSIS OF KNGLISU WORDS, ELOCUTIONARY CHART, ETC. 
 
 IVISON, BLAKEMAN, TAYLOR & CO., 
 
 PUBLISHERS, 
 NEW YORK AND CHICAGO. 
 
 1S7S. 
 
NEWLY ILLUSTRATED AND ENLARGED. 
 
 SANDERS' PRIMARY SPELLER ^ 
 
 SANDERS FICTORIA L PRIMER. Bound (Green Covera) 
 
 SANDERS' NEW SPELLER, DEFJNER, AND ANALYZER. 
 
 SANDERS' NEW FIRST READER 
 
 SANDERS' NEW SECOND READER 
 
 BANDERS' NEW THIRD READER. 
 
 SANDERS' NEW FOURTH READER 
 
 SANDERS NEW FIFTH READER. (Eevised) 
 
 SANDERS' HIGH SCHOOL READER 
 
 SANDERS' YOUNG LADIES' READER 
 
 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 
 
 SANDERS' ANALYSIS OF ENGLISH WORDS, 
 
 SANDERS' ELOCUTIONARY CHART 
 
 SANDERS' PRIMARY HAND CARDS, Six in a Set 
 
 AANDERS' PRIMARY '^(^OOL ClURm' tai^e Type, for Teaching 
 Primary Schools in Concert. 8^cfe. ou^'Cards..' 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES OF READERS, 
 
 JUST PUBLISHED. 
 
 BANDERS' UNION SPELLER 
 
 BANDERS' UNION PRIMER , 
 
 SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER ONE , 
 
 SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER TWO 
 
 SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER THREE , 
 
 SANDERS ' UNION READER, NUMBER FOUR 
 
 SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER FIVE 
 
 BANDERS' UNION SPEAKER 
 
 jLntered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by 
 OHAELES W. SANDERS, 
 ci the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 ./ 
 
 EDUCATION DEPT. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The demand for a greater variety of reading exercises suit- 
 able for the more advanced classes in our public schools and 
 academies, has led to the preparation of the present volume, 
 The Union Fifth Reader ; and the title of the previously so- 
 called Union Fifth Reader has been changed, and that book 
 will hereafter be styled The Union Sixth, or Rhetorical 
 Reader. 
 
 In the preparation of the present volume, a wide range of 
 selections has been made in order to present every variety 
 of style, and the best examples for the exercise of Rhetorical 
 reading, and such as are peculiarly adapted to the expression 
 of every tone and modulation of the human voice, whether 
 grave or gay, humorous or pathetic, simple or declamatory. 
 
 Of these exercises, both oi prose and poetry, a large por- 
 tion has been selected from speeches and writings of recent 
 date, and which, of course, have never been used in any other 
 reading-book. These lessons breathe forth the sentiments of 
 loyalty, and tend to inspire the spirit of patriotism, and a deeper 
 devotion to the cause of our republican institutions, and to the 
 welfare of our whole country. 
 
 The principles of Elocution, which have been explained and 
 illustrated by examples in the fore part of the Union Fourth 
 and Sixth Readers, and which have been tested by actual ex- 
 periment in the schoolroom by thousands of experienced teach- 
 ers, have been adopted in the present work. These principles 
 should be thoroughly studied and understood by the pupil in 
 
 (vi56006 '" 
 
iv PKEFACE. 
 
 order to express the various sentiments, presented in the Read- 
 ing Lessons, in the most elegant and appropriate manner. 
 
 That the pupil may clearly understand the subjects, all the 
 classical terms, and such words and phrases as seem to require 
 it, have been explained. Wherever allusion is made to proper 
 names, such biographical or historical account has been given 
 of them, in brief notes, as a thorough knowledge of the subject 
 seemed to demand ; and, wherever there is a liability to mistake, 
 the pronunciation of the words has also been given, and, in 
 some cases, their analysis and definitions. 
 
 In the preparation of reading-books for the youth of our 
 country, it is of the utmost importance to place before their 
 minds lessons not only of literary accuracy^ but also those of a 
 high moral character. In these respects, the present work, it 
 is believed, will be found to contain nothing at least objection- 
 able, even to the most fastidious. 
 
 Nearly thirty years ago, the author published his first series 
 of reading-books. Since that time, he has contributed to this 
 department of literature Twenty-two Volumes of- lessons for 
 reading and speaking. These books have been more exten- 
 sively used in the schools of this country than any other ; and 
 several of the lower numbers have been translated into the dia- 
 lects of other nations, and are now in use in the schools of for- 
 eign countries ; an evidence of the appreciation in which they 
 are held by educators abroad, and of their adaptedness to the 
 purposes of juvenile instruction. 
 
 That the Union Fifth Reader may serve to promote the 
 great cause of education, create a lively interest in the reading 
 class, improve the moral and intellectual powers of the youth 
 of our country, and merit that favor which has been shown to 
 the other numbers of the Union Series, has been the aim of the 
 author in its preparation. 
 
 New York, July, 1867. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 FAOB. 
 
 Section I. — Articulation 13 
 
 Elementary Sounds of the Letters 14 
 
 Substitutes for the Vowel Elements 15 
 
 Substitutes for the Consonant Elements 16 
 
 Errors in Articulation 16 
 
 Combinations of Consonants 17, 18 
 
 Examples to illustrate Indistinct Articulation 19 
 
 Miscellaneous Examples 20 
 
 Section II. — Accent and Emphasis 21 
 
 Examples of Primary and Secondary Accent 21 
 
 Examples of Intensive Emphasis 22 
 
 Examples of Absolute Emphasis 23 
 
 Examples of Antithetic Emphasis 24 
 
 Section III. — Inflections 25 
 
 Monotone 26 
 
 Rising and Falling Inflections 27 
 
 Rules for the Use of Inflections 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 
 
 The Circumflex 34 
 
 Section IV. — Modulation 35 
 
 Pitch of Voice 36 
 
 Quantity 37 
 
 Rules for Quantity 38 
 
 Quality 39 
 
 Rules for Quality 40 
 
 Notation in Modulation 41 
 
 Examples for Exercise in Modulation 41, 42, 43, 44 
 
 Section V. — The Rhetorical Pause 45, 46 
 
Vi ' CONTENTS. 
 
 PABT SECOND. 
 
 I.ESSON. FAOB. 
 
 1. Achievements and Dignity of Labor Rev. Newman Hall, 47 
 
 2. Powers of the Hand Dr. George Wilson, 50 
 
 3. There's Work Enough to do Anon., 53 
 
 4. Fields for Labor Mrs. Ellen H. Gates, 55 
 
 5. Where there's a Will, there's a Wat J. G. Saxe, 56 
 
 6. The Offices of Memory May Burns, 58 
 
 7. The Memory of Joy Greenwood, 62 
 
 8. The House by the Rolling River Linna Schenk, 66 
 
 9. The Light at Home 68 
 
 10. The Soldier Bird H. H. Brownell, 69 
 
 11. The Battle-Field 73 
 
 12. Song of the Cannon-Ball Anon., 76 
 
 13. The Children of the Battle-Field James G. Clark, 78 
 
 14. The Brave at Home Anon., 80 
 
 15. The Soldier's Reprieve A^. Y. Observer, 81 
 
 16. The Last Ride Miss Mulock, 86 
 
 17. Passing to the Supernal Sat. Eve. Post, 90 
 
 18. Sunshine and Showers 91 
 
 19. Education, our own Work John Todd, 94 
 
 20. Self-Culturb Channing, 97 
 
 21. The Skater and the Wolves Whitehead, 100 
 
 22. Purity of Character Henry Ward Beecher, 104 
 
 23. The Three Sisters. — An Allegory 105 
 
 24. Deserve It Anon., 107 
 
 25. The Bridal Wine-Cup 110 
 
 jr 26. Desolating Effects of Intemperance W. Irving, 114 
 
 27. Eulogy on Cold Water Paul Denton, 115 
 
 28. Profaneness E. H. Chapin, 117 
 
 29. Voices of God Lon. Brit. Magazine, 118 
 
 30. Better than Gold Anon., 120 
 
 31. The Angel of the Leaves. — An Allegory . .Hannah F. Gould, 122 
 
 32. The World of Chance John Todd, 125 
 
 33. The World of Chance {continued) John Todd, 128 
 
 34. No God N. K. Richardson, 131 
 
 35. The Presence op God Amelia B. Welby, 133 
 
 36. Integrity D.S. Dickinson, 136 
 
 37. The Visible and the Invisible Ephraim Peahody, 138 
 
 38. When I am Old Caroline A. Briggs, 143 
 
 39. A Retrospective Review Thomas Hood, 145 
 
CONTENTS. vu 
 
 XESSOjr. PAGE, 
 
 40. Taking a Whale R. Starbuck, 147 
 
 41. Leviathan, or the Great Whale. .From the French of Michdet, 153 
 
 42. The Game of Life J. G. Saxe, 156 
 
 43. Keep in Step Anon., 159 
 
 44. Encouragements in the Pursuit of Knowledge . JEJ. Everett, 160 
 
 45. The Capacity of an Hour John Foster, 165 
 
 46. Evening Prayer Channing, 167 
 
 47. The Time for Prayer Anon., 169 
 
 48. One by One Adelaide A: Procter, 171 
 
 49. Inventive Genius and Labor Elihu Burritt, 172 
 
 50. The Results of Work Dr. J. G. Holland,. 175 
 
 51. Our Deeds Imperishable L. II. Grindon, 178 
 
 -^52. The Uses of Life Harper's Magazine, 180 
 
 53. Lofty Aspirations Dem. Review, 183 
 
 54. General Washington's Escape Anon., 185 
 
 55. Exciting Adventure with AN Indian. .Zj/acl-M;ooc?'s ifcfcf^a«{ne, 190 
 
 56. Choice Extracts : — 
 
 I. Decay of the American Ii^diass. .Charles Sprague, 200 
 II. Lament of an Indian Chief 200 
 
 III. Effects of our Deeds 201 
 
 IV. Man's Mortality S. Wastell, 201 
 
 V. Saving for Old Age 202 
 
 VI. Be Firm ; Mrs. S. C. Mayo, 203 
 
 VII. The Young Voyager. . . , Rev. Albert Barnes, 204 
 
 VIII. Voyage of Life Henry Ware, Jun., 205 
 
 IX. The Beauties of NatuiiE Moodie, 205 
 
 X. Cheer Up 206 
 
 57. Earnestness Ajion., 207 
 
 58. Incentives to Culture R. F. Trowhridge, 213 
 
 59. " And Then ? " 215 
 
 60. What is Life ? Charles D. Drake, 21 7 
 
 61. Pleasures of Knowledge Sydney Smith, 220 
 
 62. Man and the Industrial Arts Dr. George Wilson, 225 
 
 63. The Beautiful E. H. Burrington, 232 
 
 64. The Bright Flowers Anon., 234 
 
 65. The Summer Rain Helen Mitchell, 235 
 
 66. A Noble Revenge Thomas De Quincey, 236 
 
 67. Story of the Siege of Calais Henry Brooke, 239 
 
 68. The True Legion of Honor Anon., 244 
 
 69. Conscience James Linen, 246 
 
 70. Moral and Religious Culture Sat. Eve. Post, 249 
 
 71. Desire and Means of Happiness Horace Mann, 254 
 
viil CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSON. PAOB. 
 
 72. The Invention of Printing. — A Dialogue Osborne, 258 
 
 73. The Three Voices Anon., 261 
 
 74. Action of Climate upon Man Prof. Arnold Guyot, 262 
 
 75. The Wonders of Civilization Amott, 264 
 
 76. The Love of Truth 265 
 
 77. Aspirations of Youth George William Curtis, 267 
 
 78. The Grave of the Year G. A. Gamage, 269 
 
 79. Another Year 271 
 
 80. The Telescope and the Microscope Chalmers^ 273 
 
 81. Immensity of the Universe 0. M. Mitchel, 275 
 
 82. The First Predicter of an Eclipse 0. M. Mitchel, 277 
 
 83. The Song of Light W. P. Palmer, 281 
 
 84. Chant and Chorus op the Planets Anna Blackicell, 283 
 
 85. Insignificance of the Earth Chalmers, 285 
 
 86. Honor to the Projector of the Atlantic Cable. 4. A. Low, 288 
 
 87. Recovery of the Lost Atlantic Cable... Cyn« W. Field, 291 
 
 88. How Cyrus laid the Cable J. G. Saxe, 295 
 
 89. The Atlantic Telegraph Rev. George Lansing Taylor, 297 
 
 90. The Electric Telegraph Anon., 299 
 
 91. Beatitudes Bible, 301 
 
 92. The Pride of Ignorance S. W. Taylor, 304 
 
 93. Science and Art D. Braivster, 308 
 
 94. Advance , D. F. McCarthy, 311 
 
 95. The Polar Star Westby Gibson, 313 
 
 96. Mountains E. M. Morse, 315 
 
 97. The Alps Willis Gaylord Clark, 318 
 
 98. Desire to be remembered 319 
 
 99. The Desire of Reputation Rev. Albert Barnes, 321 
 
 100. Vanity of Earthly Fame Henry Kirke White, 326 
 
 101. " This, too, must pass away" Mrs. 'F. C. Howarth, 328 
 
 102. God, the True Object of Confidence Greenwood, 329 
 
 103. Inspiration of Living Genius Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, 333 
 
 104. Genius and Originality Rev. Dr. G. W. Eaton, 336 
 
 105. Hurrying On 338 
 
 106. The People's Advent Gerald Massey, 339 
 
 107. Discovery op Manhattan ^.Mary L. Booth, 341 
 
 108. Choice Extracts : — 
 
 I. Personal Religion WdMer, 345 
 
 n. The Beam of Devotion Gex>rge P. Morris, 347 
 
 III. Progress 347 
 
 IV. Love Due to the Creator G. Griffin, 348 
 
 V. Influence of Gold Addison, 348 
 
CONTENTS. Ix 
 
 LESSON-. PAGE, 
 
 108. Choice Extracts {continued) : — 
 
 VI. Ingratitude Shakspeare, 349 
 
 VII. The Bible Wayland, 349 
 
 VIII. -The Moments J. L. Eggleston, 350 
 
 IX. The War-Horse Book of Job, 351 
 
 X. Seclusion Beattie, 351 
 
 XI. The Power of Little Things Smiles, 352 
 
 f^SirlMJ^UlE^CB Mrs. S. T. Bolton, 353 
 
 109. The Sea Ftvm the French ofMchelet, 353 
 
 110. A Wild Night at Sea Charles Dickens, 357 
 
 111. The Sailor's Early Home Rev. S. D. Phelps, 359 
 
 112. The Fireman R. T. Conrad, 361 
 
 113. Benefits of Agriculture D. S. Dickinson, 363 
 
 114. The Work of Eloquence Orville Dewey, 366 
 
 115. The Voice and the Pen D. F. McCarthy, 368 
 
 116. The Burial of Moses Anon., 370 
 
 117. Mount Tabor J. T. Headley, 372 
 
 118. Mount Tabor [continued ) J. T. Headley, S11 
 
 119. Nathan Hale Francis M, Finch, 379 
 
 120. Loss of the Union Irreparable Webster, 381 
 
 121. Stars in my Country's Sky Mrs. L. H. Sigoumey, 384 
 
 122. God bless our Stars B. F. Taylor, 386 
 
 123. Washington's Journey to his Inauguration... W. Irving, 388 
 
 124. Lincoln's Journey to his Inauguration. . .L. H. Whitney, 394 
 
 125. Day-Star of Liberty M. A. Moses, 396 
 
 126. " On to Freedom " A. J. H. Duganne, 398 
 
 127. Address to the Returned Soldiers, .fiey. J. M. Manning, 401 
 
 128. The Honored Dead. . ^* Henry Ward Beecher, 403 
 
 129. The Soldier's Dirge Col. O'Hara, 405 
 
 130. The Widowed Sword Anon., 407 
 
 131. " Good-By, Old Arm, Good-By ! " George Cooper, 408 
 
 132. The Teacher the Hope of A^ierica Samuel Fells, 410 
 
 133. True Glory of a Nation Bishop Whipple, 412 
 
 134. The Battle of Life Anne C. Lynch, 414 
 
 135. The Historian's Reflections Blake, 417 
 
 136. True Reformers Horace Greeley, 420 
 
 137. Unjust National Acquisitions Thomas Corwin, 422 
 
 138. Vanity of Earthly Treasures Anon., 426 
 
 139. Choice Extracts: — 
 
 I. The Widow's Two Mites Webster, 428 
 
 II. The Honey-Bee 429 
 
 >-^I. Virtue Colton, 430 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSOK. PAGE. 
 
 139. Choice Extracts {continued) : — 
 
 IV. Happiness Pope, 430 
 
 V. Advance op Science 431 
 
 VI. The Struggle of Life Beattie, 432 
 
 yjlr Antiquity Colton, 432 
 
 ^Vlll. Beauty Shakspeare, 433 
 
 IX. Cunning and Discretion Addison, 433 
 
 X. Procrastination Persius, 434 
 
 140. All Nature speaks op a Spirit-World Anon., 434 
 
 141. "How Manifold are Thy Works!" Miss A.Arnold, 436 
 
 142. Times and Seasons L. H. Grindon, 437 
 
 143. Earth, Air, and Sea Maury, 440 
 
 144. The Cloud Shelley, 443 
 
 145. Eulogy on Daniel Webster Lewis Gaylord Clark, 446 
 
 146. Scenery of Palestine Itev. J. P. Newman, 452 
 
 147. Birth-Day Reflections George D. Prentice, 456 
 
 148. Paul at Athens John Angell James, 459 
 
 149. Paul at Athens {continued) John Angell James, 460 
 
 150. Truth and Freedom William D. Gallagher, 464 
 
 151. Not Dead, but Sleeping H. A. Gere, 465 
 
 152. The Sphinx and the Great Pyramid Rev. S. I. Prime, 467 
 
 153. Antiquity of Egypt Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, 471 
 
 154. Choice Extracts: — 
 
 I. Bugle Song '. Tennyson, 474 
 
 II. The Age of Progress Charles Sumner, 475 
 
 III. Clear the Way 475 
 
 IV. Our Sages and Heroes Charles Sprague, 476 
 
 V. The American Union Webster, 477 
 
 VI. Expulsion from Paradise Milton, 477 
 
 VII. Washington's Monument R. C. Winthrop, 478 
 
 VIII. The Lord our Provider Wordsworth, 479 
 
 IX. Moral and Republican Principles. .Edward Everett, 479 
 
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHORS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Addison 1 348,433 
 
 Arnold, Miss A 436 
 
 Arnott 204 
 
 Barnes, Albert 204, 321 
 
 Beattie 351,432 
 
 Beecher, Hknry Ward . . 104, 403 
 
 Bible 301 
 
 Blackwell, Anna 283 
 
 Blake 417 
 
 Bolton, Mrs. S. T 353 
 
 Book of Job 351 
 
 Booth, Mary L 341 
 
 Brewster, D 308 
 
 Briggs, Caroline A 143 
 
 Brooke, Henry 239 
 
 Brownell, H.H 69 
 
 Burns, Islay 58 
 
 Burrington, E. H 232 
 
 BURiilTT, Elihu 172 
 
 Chalmers 273, 285 
 
 Channing 97, 167 
 
 Chapin, E. H 117 
 
 Clark, James G 78 
 
 Clark, Lewis Gaylord .... 446 
 Clark, Willis Gaylord .... 318 
 
 COLTON 430,432 
 
 Conrad, R. T 361 
 
 Cooper, George 408 
 
 Cor win, Thomas 422 
 
 Curtis, George William . . . 267 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Denton, Paul 115 
 
 Be Quincey, Thomas 236 
 
 Dewey, Orville 305 
 
 Dickens, Charles 357 
 
 Dickinson, D. S 136, 363 
 
 Drake, Charles D 217 
 
 DUGANNE, a. J. H 398 
 
 Eaton, Rev. Dr. G. W. . . . o . 336 
 
 Eells, Samuel , . , 410 
 
 Eggleston, J. L 350 
 
 Everett, Edward 160,479 
 
 Field, Cyrus W . 291 
 
 Finch, Francis M ,379 
 
 Foster, John 165 
 
 Gallagher, William D 464 
 
 Gamage, G. a 269 
 
 Gere, H. A 465 
 
 Gibson, Westby 313 
 
 Gould, Hannah F 122 
 
 Greeley, Horace 420 
 
 Greenwood 62, .329 
 
 Griffin, G 348 
 
 Grindon, L. H 178, 437 
 
 GuYOT, Prof. Arnold 262 
 
 Hall, Rev. Newman 47 
 
 Headley, J. T 372, 377 
 
 Holland, Dr. J. G 175 
 
 Hood, Thomas 145 
 
 xi 
 
Xll 
 
 AI^PHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHORS. 
 
 PAOK. 
 
 HoWARTH, Mrs. E. C 328 
 
 IRVINQ, W 114, 388 
 
 James, John Angell 459 
 
 Linen, James 246 
 
 Low, A. A 288 
 
 Lynch, Anne C 414 
 
 Magazine, Blackwood's .... 190 
 
 Magazine, Harper's 180 
 
 3IAGAZINE, London British . . 118 
 
 Mann, Horace 254 
 
 Manning, Rev. J. M 401 
 
 Massey, Gerald 339 
 
 Maury 440 
 
 Mayo, Mrs. S. C 203 
 
 M'Carthy, D. F 311,368 
 
 Michelet, French of . . . 153, 353 
 
 Milton 477 
 
 MiTCHEL, O. M 275, 277 
 
 Mitchell, Helen ........ 235 
 
 MOODIE 205 
 
 Morris, George P 347 
 
 Morse, E. M 315 
 
 Moses, M. A. . • 396 
 
 Mulock, Miss 86 
 
 Newman, Rev. J. P 452 
 
 Observer, N. Y 81 
 
 O'Hara, Col 405 
 
 Osborne 258 
 
 Palmer, William Pitt ..... 281 
 
 Peabody, Ephraim 138 
 
 Persius 434 
 
 Phelps, Rev. S. D 359 
 
 PoPK 430 
 
 PAGB, 
 
 Post, Saturday Evening . 90, 249 
 
 Prentice, George D 456 
 
 Prime, Rev. S. 1 467 
 
 Procter, Adelaide A 171 
 
 Review, Democratic 183 
 
 Richardson, N. K 131 
 
 SAXE, J. G 66, 156, 295 
 
 Schenk, Linna 06 
 
 Shakspeare 349, 433 
 
 Shelley 443 
 
 SiGOURNEY, Mrs. L. H 384 
 
 Smiles 352 
 
 Smith, Mrs. E. Oakes . . . 333, 471 
 
 Smith, Sydney 220 
 
 Spraguk, Charles 200, 476 
 
 Starbuck, R 147 
 
 Sumner, Charles 475 
 
 Taylor, B. F .386 
 
 Taylor, Rev. Geo. Lansing . . 297 
 
 Taylor, S. W 304 
 
 Tennyson 474 
 
 Todd, John 94, 125, 128 
 
 Trowbridge, R. F 213 
 
 Ware, Henry, Jun 205 
 
 Wastell, S 201 
 
 Wayland 349 
 
 Webster 345,381,428,477 
 
 Welby, Amelia B 133 
 
 Whipple, Bishop 412 
 
 White, Henry Kirke 326 
 
 Whitehead 100 
 
 Whitney, L. H 394 
 
 Wilson, Dr. George .... 50, 225 
 
 WiNTHROP, R. C 478 
 
 Wordsworth 479 
 
SANDEES' 
 
 UNION EEADER 
 
 NUMBER FIVE. 
 
 PAR.T FIRST. 
 
 ELOCUTION. " . " 
 
 Elocution is the art of delivering written or extempo- 
 raneous composition with force, propriety, and ease. 
 
 It deals, therefore, with words, not only as individuals, but as 
 members of a sentence, and parts of a connected discourse : 
 including every thing necessary to the just expression of the 
 sense. Accordingly, it demands, in a special manner, attentioik 
 to the following particulars; viz., Articulation, Accent, 
 Emphasis, Inflection, Modulation,. and Pauses. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 articulation. 
 
 Articulation is the art of uttering distinctly and 
 justly the letters and syllables constituting a word. 
 
 It deals, therefore, with the elements of words, just as elocu- 
 tion deals with the elements of sentences : the one securing tho 
 true enunciation of each letter, or combination of letters, tho 
 other giving to each word, or combination of words, such a 
 delivery as best expresses the meaning of the author. It is the 
 basis of all good reading, and should be carefully practiced by 
 the learner. 
 
 {13J 
 
14 
 
 SANDERS' TJKION SERIES. 
 
 ELEMENTARY SOUNDS OP THE LETTERS. 
 
 TOWEL SOtlNDS. 
 
 
 TONICS. 
 
 
 Element 
 
 
 Powtr. 
 
 1—1 A 
 
 as in 
 
 -4pe. 
 
 2.— ^A 
 
 a 
 
 ^rm. 
 
 ^.— «A 
 
 si   
 
 * Jill. 
 
 4.-^*A 
 
 IC 
 
 ^t. 
 
 ■.^.-^A 
 
 i: 
 
 Care. 
 
 6.— «A 
 
 u 
 
 ^sk. 
 
 7.— »E 
 
 « 
 
 Eyq. 
 
 8.— ^E 
 
 u 
 
 End. 
 
 9.— »I 
 
 11 
 
 Ice. 
 
 10.— ^I 
 
 11 
 
 It. 
 
 11.— ^0 
 
 « 
 
 Old. 
 
 12.-20 
 
 « 
 
 Do. 
 
 13.— »0 
 
 u 
 
 Ox. 
 
 14.— lU 
 
 11 
 
 Use. 
 
 15.— ^U 
 
 u 
 
 U^. 
 
 16.— 8U 
 
 u 
 
 Full 
 
 17.— 01 
 
 (( 
 
 Oil 
 
 18.— OU 
 
 (( 
 
 Out. 
 
 CONSONANT SOUNDS. 
 SUB-TONICS. 
 
 19.— B as in Bsit. 
 
 20.— D " i>un. 
 
 SDB-TONICS. 
 
 
 Element. 
 
 
 Power. 
 
 21.— G* 
 
 as in 
 
 Gun. 
 
 22.— J 
 
 i( 
 
 Jet. 
 
 23.— L 
 
 <( 
 
 Let. 
 
 24.— M 
 
 it 
 
 Man. 
 
 25.— N 
 
 u 
 
 Mt. 
 
 26.— R 
 
 It 
 
 Run. 
 
 27.— V 
 
 u 
 
 Fent. 
 
 28.— W 
 
 It 
 
 Fent. 
 
 29.— Y 
 
 it 
 
 res. 
 
 30.— ^Z 
 
 ft 
 
 ^eal. 
 
 31.— ^Z 
 
 It 
 
 A^nre. 
 
 32.— Na 
 
 tt 
 
 Sin^. 
 
 33.— TH 
 
 It 
 
 Thy. 
 
 A-TONICS. 
 
 
 34.— F 
 
 as iu 
 
 Fit. 
 
 35.— H 
 
 a 
 
 Bait. 
 
 36.— K 
 
 it 
 
 Kid. 
 
 37.— P 
 
 it 
 
 Pit. 
 
 38.— S 
 
 tt 
 
 Sin. 
 
 39.— T 
 
 tt 
 
 Toip, 
 
 40.— CH 
 
 It 
 
 Chat, 
 
 41.— SH 
 
 tt 
 
 Shun. 
 
 42.— TH 
 
 It 
 
 Thin. 
 
 43.— WHf 
 
 tt 
 
 When. 
 
 * Soft G is equivalent to J ; Soft C to S, and hard C and Q to K. X 
 is equivalent to K and S, as in box, or to G and Z, as in exalt. 
 
 f WH is pronounced as if the H preceded W, otherwise it would be 
 pronounced W-hen. R should be slightly trilled before a vowel. For 
 further instructions, see Sanders and Merrill's Elementary and Elocu- 
 tionary Chart. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEK. 
 
 15 
 
 SUBSTITUTES FOR THE VOWEL ELEMENTS. 
 
 
   at as in sail. 
 
 
 e as in JS'nglish. 
 
 
 au 
 
 '« gauge. 
 
 
 ee " 
 
 been. 
 
 For Long A. 
 
 ay 
 ea 
 
 *♦ lay. 
 •♦ great. 
 
 For Short L - 
 
 ie " 
 " 
 
 Sieve. 
 women. 
 
 
 ei 
 
 " detgn. 
 
 
 u " 
 
 busy. 
 
 
 ey 
 
 " they. 
 
 
 ui *' 
 
 bi/ild. 
 
 
 ' au 
 
 ** dawnt. 
 
 
 y U 
 
 symbol. 
 
 For Flat A. 
 
 ea 
 
 " heart. 
 
 
 ' au " 
 
 hautboy. 
 
 
 ^ua 
 
 •' guard. 
 
 
 eau «« 
 eo '« 
 
 beai^. 
 yeoman. 
 
 
 ' au 
 aw 
 
 '« pause. 
 " \aw. 
 
 For Long 0. - 
 
 eu; " 
 oa ♦* 
 
 seu?. 
 boat. 
 
 For Broad A. 
 
 eo 
 oa 
 
 '♦ George. 
 " groat. 
 
 
 oe " 
 ou ♦* 
 
 hoe. 
 soul. 
 
 
 
 
 " horn. 
 
 
 OVJ '• 
 
 ^ow. 
 
 
 ou 
 
 " sought. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 o 
 
 For Long 
 
 ^ oe " 
 
 shoe. 
 
 For Short A.   
 
 fat 
 ua 
 
 ** plazd. 
 '* guaranty. 
 
 Slender 0. \ ou " 
 
 soup. 
 
 
 
 
 
 a " 
 
 was. 
 
 
 ' ai 
 
 ** hafr. 
 
 For Short 0.   
 
 ou " 
 
 hough. 
 
 For Intermedi- 
 
 ea 
 
 " bear. 
 
 
 ^ow «' 
 
 knoii;ledga. 
 
 ate A. 
 
 e 
 
 •' where. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ei 
 
 «♦ their. 
 
 
 'eau " 
 eu ♦' 
 
 beauty 
 feud. 
 
 
 ' ea 
 
 " weak. 
 
 
 ew " 
 
 dcu;. 
 
 For Long E. 
 
 ei 
 eo 
 ey 
 
 
 For Long U.   
 
 ieu " 
 
 iCU7 " 
 
 ou '• 
 
 adi'ei^. 
 
 \iew. 
 
 your. 
 
 
 ie 
 
 " brief. 
 
 
 ue " 
 ui " 
 
 cue. 
 
 
 i 
 
 " pzque. 
 
 
 suit. 
 
 
 'a 
 
 " any. 
 
 
 fe - 
 
 her. 
 
 
 ai 
 
 " sazd. 
 
 
 i " 
 
 Sir. 
 
 
 ay 
 
 '« says. 
 
 For Short U. - 
 
 oe '♦ 
 
 does. 
 
 
 ea 
 
 '« dead. 
 
 
 " 
 
 love. 
 
 For Short E. - 
 
 ei 
 
 " heifer. 
 
 
 ou " 
 
 young. 
 
 
 eo 
 
 ♦* leopard. 
 
 For Short j 
 Slender U. ' 
 
 " 
 
 wolf. 
 
 
 ie 
 
 «♦ friend. 
 
 ou *' 
 
 would. 
 
 
 ue 
 
 ♦* guess. 
 
 
 
 
 
 {at 
 
 ♦* bury. 
 ♦* aisle. 
 
 For the Diph- ) 
 thong 01. J 
 
 .oy " 
 
 joy. 
 
 
 ei 
 
 " sleight. 
 
 For the Diph- 1 
 thong OU. J 
 
 
 
 
 ey 
 
 " eye. 
 
 ► ow *♦ 
 
 now. 
 
 For Long I. 
 
 ie 
 oi 
 
 «' die. 
 *' choi'r. 
 
 There is no 
 
 pure T 
 
 riphthongal 
 
 
 ui 
 
 " guide. 
 
 sound in the 
 
 language. Buoy ia 
 
 
 uy 
 
 " buy. 
 
 equivalent to 
 
 bwoy. 
 
 U being a 
 
 
 Vy 
 
 - try. 
 
 consonant, 
 
 
 
16 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 SUBSTITUTES FOR THE CONSONANT ELEMENTS. 
 
 
 8 in laxxgh. 
 
 
 c as 
 
 in 
 
 suffice. 
 
 
 sphere. 
 
 »Z. 
 
   s 
 
 
 wa«. 
 
 J. ff 
 
 
 
 
 X 
 
 
 Xerxes. 
 
 
 ffQm. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' s 
 
 
 treasure. 
 
 ' c 
 
 
 can. 
 
 =Z. 
 
 z 
 
 
 azure. 
 
 TT ^^ 
 
 
 chord. 
 
 si 
 
 
 fu«/on. 
 
 ^■\9h 
 
 
 houffh. 
 
 
 si 
 
 
 glazeer. 
 
 u 
 
 
 g-uit. 
 
 NG. 
 
 n 
 
 
 conch. 
 
 S. c 
 
 
 cent. 
 
 
 [ce 
 
 
 ocean. 
 
 T l^ 
 
 
 facet/. 
 
 
 ci 
 
 
 soczal. 
 
 
 phthisic. 
 
 
 ch 
 
 
 chaise. 
 
 
 
 
 SH. 
 
 \ si 
 
 
 pension. 
 
 HU 
 
 
 0/. 
 
 
 a 
 
 
 sure. 
 
 
 Stephen. 
 
 
 ss 
 
 
 issue. 
 
 Y. t 
 
 
 valmnt. 
 
 
 [ti 
 
 
 notion. 
 
 
 
 
 CH. 
 
 ti 
 
 
 fus^zan. 
 
 B, D, G, H, L, M, N, P, and R, have no substitutes. 
 
 The most common faults in Articulation are 
 I. The suppression of a sellable ; as 
 
 cab'n 
 
 for 
 
 cab-m. 
 
 mem'ry 
 
 for 
 
 mem-o-ry. 
 
 cap'n 
 
 (( 
 
 cap-toin. 
 
 jub'lee 
 
 
 ju-bi-lee. 
 
 barr'l 
 
 a 
 
 bar-rel. 
 
 trav'ler 
 
 
 trav-el-er. 
 
 ev'ry 
 
 a 
 
 ev-e-ry. 
 
 fani'ly 
 
 
 fam-i-ly. 
 
 hist'ry 
 
 a 
 
 his-to-ry. 
 
 vent' late 
 
 
 ven-t«^-late. 
 
 reg'lar 
 
 u 
 
 reg-w-lar. 
 
 des'late 
 
 
 des-o-late. 
 
 sev'ral 
 
 ii 
 
 sev-cr-al. 
 
 prob'ble 
 
 
 prob-d-ble. 
 
 rhet'ric 
 
 (( 
 
 rhet-o-ric. 
 
 par-tic'lar 
 
 
 par-tic-t^-lar. 
 
 II. The 
 
 omission of any s 
 
 ound properly belonging to a 
 
 word; as, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 read-in 
 
 for 
 
 read-inr/. 
 
 pr'-tect 
 
 for 
 
 pro-tect. 
 
 swif-ly 
 
 u 
 
 swifMy. 
 
 b'-low 
 
 
 be-low. 
 
 com-mans 
 
 (( 
 
 com-manc?s. 
 
 p'r-vade 
 
 
 per-vade. 
 
 wam-er 
 
 u 
 
 warm-er. 
 
 srink-in 
 
 
 s/irink-in^. 
 
 um-ble 
 
 u 
 
 Aum-ble, 
 
 th'if-ty 
 
 
 thrif-ty. 
 
 ap-py 
 
 (( 
 
 Aap-py. 
 
 as-ter-is 
 
 
 as-ter-is&. 
 
 con-sis 
 
 (( 
 
 con-sis^s. 
 
 gov-er-ment 
 
 
 gov-ern-ment. 
 
 fa-t'l 
 
 tt 
 
 fa-taL 
 
 Feb-u-a-ry 
 
 
 Fcb-ru-a-ry. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 
 
 17 
 
 III. The Buhstitution of one sound for another ; as 
 
 wf-ford 
 
 for 
 
 af-ford. 
 
 wil-ler 
 
 
 wil-loi^. 
 
 sock-it 
 
 
 sock-et. 
 
 fear-lwss 
 
 
 fear-less. 
 
 cul-ter 
 
 
 cult-wre. 
 
 prod-ux 
 
 
 prod-uc/s. 
 
 judg-mwnt 
 
 
 judg-ment 
 
 chU-drm 
 
 
 chil-dren. 
 
 mod-?st 
 
 tip-prove 
 
 icin-e-gar 
 
 sep-e-rate 
 
 tem-per-/t 
 
 croe-er-dile 
 
 tMb-ac-cwr 
 
 com-prMm-ise 
 
 for mod-est. 
 ap-prove. 
 t?in-e-gar. 
 sep-a-rate. 
 tem-per-ate. 
 croc-o-dile. 
 to-bac-co. 
 com-pro-mise 
 
 IV. Produce the sounds denoted bj the following com- 
 binations of consonants : — 
 
 Let the pupil first produce the sounds of the letters, and then 
 the word or words in which they occur. Be careful to give a 
 clear and distinct enunciation to every letter. 
 
 1. Bd, as in rob*d; hdst, jtrob'dst; hi, Z>/and, a5fe ; tZof, hum- 
 
 hVd; hldst, troubl'dst; blst, tronbrst; biz, crumbles; br, 
 ferand; bz, ribs. 
 
 2. Ch, as in church ; cht, fetch'd. 
 
 S. Dj\ as in edge; djd, hedg'd ; dl, hr'idle; did, riddl'd; dht, 
 hdiudVst; dlz, bundles; dn^hard'n; dr,dro\e; dth, -width; 
 dths, hre-ddths; dz, odds. 
 
 4. Fl, as in^ame; Jld, riJVd ; flst, stifl'st; Jlz, rifles; fr,from; 
 
 fs, qua^i-, lau^As; fst, laugh' st, quaff' st; ft, raft ; fts, wafts; 
 ftsf, graft' St. 
 
 5. Gd, as in hegg'd ; gdst, hragg'dst; gl, glide; gld, struggrd ; 
 
 gldst, hsiggl'dst ; gist, sinxngl'st ; glz, mingles ; gr, grove ; 
 gst, hegfst ; gz, %s. 
 
 G. Kl, as in unc^e, ankle; kid, irickVd ; kldst, iruckV dst; klst, 
 chucA:/'s^; klz, yyrinkles ; kn, blacA;'?i; kud, reek'n'd; 
 kndst, reak'n'dst ; knst, blac7»:'ri's<; knz, reck' ns ; kr, crank j 
 ks, check's; kt, act. 
 
 7. Lh, as in hulb ; Ibd, hulb'd; lbs, hulbs ; Ich, Mch ; Ichf^ 
 helch'd; Id, hold; Idst, fold'st ; Idz, holds; If self; Ifs, 
 gulfs; IJ, hulge; Ik, elk; Iks, silks; Ikt, milk'd; Ikts, 
 mulcts; Im^ elm; Imd, whelmed; Imz, ^Ims ; la, fall'n; 
 
18 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ^, help; Ips, scsilps; Ipsf, helpst; h, fa/se ; 1st, cvdTst; 
 It, melt; Ith, health; Iths, stealths; Its, colts; Iv, delve 'j 
 Ivd, shelv'd; Ivz, elves; Iz, halls. 
 
 8. Md, as in dioom^d; mf, triumph; mp, hemp; mpt, tempt; 
 
 mptSy attempts; mst, entomb' st; mz, tombs. 
 
 9. Nch, as in hench; ncht, -pinch' d; nd, and; ndst, end'st; 
 
 ndz, ends; ng, sun//; ngd, hang'd; ngth, length; ngz, 
 songs; tiJ, range; njd,rang'd; nk,ink; nks, ranks; nkst, 
 thank' st; nst, winc'd; nt, sent; nts, rents; ntst, went'st; 
 nz, runs. 
 
 10. PI, as in j9?unie; pld, rippl'd; plst, ripp^s^; plz, apples; 
 pr, prince j ps, sips; pst, rapp'st; pt, ripp'd. 
 
 11. Rb, as in herb ; rch, search; rcht, church' d; rbd, orb'd; 
 
 rbdst,harb'dst ; rbst, disturb' st ; rbz, orbs ; rd,hard ; rdst 
 heard' St; rdz, -words ; rf, turf; rft, scarf d) rg, hurg ; 
 rgz, hurgs; rj, dirge; rjd, urg'd; rk, ark; rks, arks; 
 rkst, \fork'st; rkt, dirk'd ; rktst, emhark'dst; rl, girl; 
 rid, world; rldst, hurld'st ; rlst, whirl' st; rlz, hurls; rm, 
 arm; rmd, arm'd; rmdst, harm'dst; rmst, arm'st; rmz, 
 charms; rn, turn; rnd, turn'd; rndst, earn'dst; rnst, 
 Xearn'st; rnz, urjis ; rp, carp; rps, harps; rpt,warp'd; 
 rs, verse; rsh, harsh; rst, firs/; rsis, bu?*s/s; rt, dart; rth, 
 earth; rths, hirths; rts, marts; rtst, dart'st; rv, curve; 
 rvd, nerv'd; rvdst, curv'dst; rvst, swerv'st; rvz, nerves; 
 rz, errs. 
 
 12. /S'/i, as in sAip ; sht,hush'd; sic, scan, skip, sks, tusks; sksf, 
 frisk' st; skt, risk'd; si, slow; sld, nestVd; slz, wrestles; 
 sm, swiile ; sn, snag; sp, sport; sps, lisps; spt, clasp'd; st, 
 stag; str, strike; sts, rests; sw, swing. 
 
 13. Th, as in thine, thin; thd, hreath'd; thr, three; thst, 
 hreath'st; thw, tJiwac\.; thz, writhes ; tl, title; tld, aettl'd; 
 tldst, settl'dst ; tlst, settl'st; tlz, nettles; tr, /runkj te, fi/s; 
 tw, twirl. 
 
 14. Vd, as in curv'd; vdst, liv' dst; vl, driv'l ; vld, grov'l'd; 
 vldst, grov'V dst; vlst, driv' I' st; vn^ driv'n; vst, liv'st; 
 vz, lives. 
 
 15. Wh, as in t^jAen, w^ere. 
 
 16. Zd, as in mus'd; zl, dazzle ; zld, muzzl'd; zldst, dazzl'dst; 
 zlst, dazzVst; zlz, muzzles; zm, spasm; zmz, chasms; zn^ 
 lis'n; znd, reas'n'd; znz, pris'7}z; zndst, impris'n'dst. 
 
tJNIOK FIFTH READER. 
 
 19 
 
 Y. Avoid blending the termination of one word with 
 the beginning of another, or suppressing the final letter 
 or letters of one word, when the next word commences 
 with a similar sound. 
 
 His small eyes 
 
 She keeps pies 
 
 His hour is up 
 
 Dry the widow's tears 
 
 Your eyes and ears 
 
 He had two small eggs 
 
 Bring some ice cream 
 
 Let all men praise Him 
 
 He was killed in war 
 
 Water, air, and earth 
 
 Come and see me once more 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 instead of His small lies. 
 She keeps spies. 
 His sour is sup. 
 Dry the widow steers. 
 Your rise sand dears. 
 He had two small legs. 
 Bring some mice scream. 
 Let tall men pray sim. 
 He was skilled in war. 
 AVater rare rand dearth. 
 Come mand see me one smore. 
 
 Note. — By an indistinct Articulation the sense of a passage 
 is often liable to be perverted. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Will he attempt to conceal hi* acts ? 
 Will he attempt to conceal his sacks ? 
 
 2. The man harf oars to row her over. 
 The man hao? doors to row her rover. 
 
 8. Can there be aw aim more lofty ? 
 Can there be a name more lofty ? 
 
 4. The judges ought to arrest the culprits. 
 The judges sought to arrest the culprits. 
 
 6. His «re burned when she told him her age. 
 His sire burned when she told him her rage, 
 
 6. He was awed at the works of labor and art. 
 He was sawed at the works of labor an c/art. 
 
 7. He was drained in the religion of his fathers. 
 He was sprained in the religion of Lis fathers. 
 
20 SANDEES' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. J5ravely o'er the boisterows billows, 
 His ffSilla,nt bark wa,s borne. 
 
 2. Can craven cow&rds expect to conquer the conniry ? 
 
 8. CRck, click, goes the clock ; clack, clack, ffoes the mill. 
 4. Did you desire to hear his dark and doleful dreams ? 
 
 6. " Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form. 
 
 Still as the breeze ; but dreadful as the storm.'* 
 
 6. 27ie flaming fire flashed fearfully in his face. 
 
 7. The glassy glaciers gleamed in glowing light. 
 
 8. jETow Aigh his honors heaved his Aaugh^y head! 
 
 9.. jBTe drew long, legible lines along the Zpve/y landscape. 
 
 10. Masses of immense magnitude move majestically through the vast 
 empire of the solar system. 
 
 11. Round the rough and rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran. 
 
 12. The stripling stranger strayed straight toward the struggling 
 etream. 
 
 13. She uttered a sharp, shrill shriek, and then shrunk from the shriveled 
 form that slumbered in the shroud. 
 
 14. For fear of o/ending the frightful fugitive, the vile vagsJ)ond 
 ventured to vilify the venerable veteran. 
 
 15. Amidst the mists, tcith angry boasts. 
 He thrusts his fists against the posts^ 
 And still insists he sees the ghosts. 
 
 16. Peter Prangle, the prickly prangly pear picker, picked three 
 pecks of prickly prangly pears, from the prangly pear trees, on the 
 pleasant prairies. 
 
 17. Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve 
 full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick 
 of his thumb ; now, if Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, 
 in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles 
 through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full 
 of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick 
 of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle sifter. 
 
 18. We travel sea and soil; we pry, we prowl; 
 We progress, and we prog from pole to pole. 
 
UNION FIFTH BEADER. 21 
 
 SECTION 11. 
 ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. 
 
 Accent and Emphasis both indicate some special stress 
 of voice. 
 
 Accent is that stress of voice by which one syllable of a word 
 i. made more prominent than others ; Emphasis is that stress 
 of voice by which one or more words of a sentence are distin- 
 guished above the rest. 
 
 accent. 
 
 The accented syllable is sometimes designated thus: 
 ( / ) ; as, com-mand'-ment. 
 
 Note I. — Words of more than two syllables generally have 
 two or more of them accented. 
 
 The more forcible stress of voice is called the Primary 
 Accent; and the less forcible, the Secondary Accent. 
 
 EXAMPLES OF PRIMARY AND SECONDARY ACCENT. 
 
 In the following examples the Primary Accent is designated 
 by double accentual marks, thus : 
 
 Ed^^-u-cate\ ed' -u-ca^ ^ -tion, muV^-ti-ply^, muV-ti-pli-ca^^-tion, sat^^-is~ 
 fy^^ sat^-is-fac^^-tion, com^-pre-hend'^, com' -pre-hen" -sion, rec'-om-mend'\^ 
 rec' -om-mend-a' ' -tioriy mo^'-ment-a'-ry, com-mu' ' -ni-cate' , com'-pli-ment'^- 
 al, in-dem'-ni-fi-ca''-tion, ex'-tem-po-ra''-ne-ous, coun'-ter-rev'-o-WHiou- 
 a-ry. 
 
 Note II. — The change of accent on the same word often 
 changes its meaning. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 col^-league, a partner, col-league'', to unite with. 
 
 con'^-duct, behavior. con-duct'', to lead. 
 
 des'-cant, a song or tune. des-canf, to comment. 
 
 ob'-ject, ultimate purpose. ob-ject', to oppose. 
 
 in''-ter-dict, a prohibition. in-ter-dict'', to forbid. 
 
 o''-ver-throw, ruin; defeat. o-ver-tbrow'', to throw down. 
 
22 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Note III. — Emphatic words are often printed in Italics, 
 When, however, different degrees of emphasis are to be denoted, 
 the higher degrees are designated by the use of Capitals, 
 LARGER or smaller, according to the degree of intensity. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Our motto shall be, our country, our whole country, and 
 NOTHING BUT OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 2. Thou Child of Joy ! Shout round me : let me hear thy shouts, 
 thou happy Shepherd Boy ! 
 
 S. Freedom calls you ! quick, be ready, 
 
 Think of what your sires have done ; 
 
 Onward, onward ! strong and steady, 
 Drive the tyrant to his den ; 
 
 On, and let the watchword be, 
 
 Country, home, and LIBERTY. 
 
 Note IV. — Emphasis, as before intimated, varies in degrees 
 of intensity, 
 
 EXAMPLES OF INTENSIVE EMPHASIS. 
 
 1. He shook the fragment of his blade, 
 
 And shouted: ''VICTORY!" 
 
 Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on !" 
 
 2. A month ! 0, for a single week ! I ask not for years', though an 
 AGE were too little for the much I have to do. 
 
 8. Now for the fight ! now for the cannon peal ! 
 
 ONWARD! through blood, and toil, and cloud, txndjire! 
 Glorious — the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, 
 The volley's roll, the rocket's blazing spire! 
 
 4. Hear, Heavens ! and give ear, Earth ! 
 
 Note Y. — Emphasis sometimes changes the seat of accent 
 from its ordinary position. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 There is a difference between jt?05''sibility and /)ro5''ability. 
 And behold, the angels of God as''cending and c?fi''scending on it. 
 For this corruptible must put on en'oorruption, and this mortal must 
 put on {m'mortality. 
 
 Does Ilia conduct deserve ap''probation, or re^-'robatioa ? 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 23 
 
 Note YI. — There are two kinds of Emphasis: — Absolute 
 and Antithetic. Absolute Emphasis is used to designate tho 
 important words of a sentence, without any direct reference to 
 other words. 
 
 EXAMPLES OF ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS. 
 
 1. Oh, speak to passion's raging tide, 
 
 Speak and sai/ : ''peace, be still!" 
 
 2. The Union, it MUST and SHALL BE PRESERVED ! 
 
 8. . Hush ! breathe it not aloud, 
 
 The wild winds must not hear it I Yet, again, 
 I tell thee — we are free ! knowles. 
 
 4. When my country shall take her place among the nations of the 
 ^arth, then and not TILL then, let my epitaph be written, emmett. 
 
 6. If you are men, follow me ! Strike down yon guard, and gain the 
 mountain passes. 
 
 6. Oh ! shame on us, countrymen, shame on us all, 
 
 If we cringe to so dastard a race. 
 
 7. This doctrine never was received ; it never can, by any POSSIBIL- 
 ITY, BE received ; and, if admitted at all, it must be by THE TOTAL 
 SUBVERSION OF LIBERTY! 
 
 8. Are you Christians, and, by upholding duelists, will you deluge the 
 land with blood, and fill it with widows and orphans ? beecher. 
 
 9. Liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 10. Treason! cried the speaker; treason, treason, TREASON, re- 
 echoed from every part of the house. 
 
 11. The war is inevitable, — and let it come! I repeat it, Sir, — LET 
 [T COME ! PATRICK henry. 
 
 12. Be we men. 
 And suffer such dishonor ? Men, and wash not 
 
 The slain away in blood ? miss mitford. 
 
 13. SACRED forms ! how proud you look ! 
 How high you lift your heads into the sky ! 
 
 How huge you are ! how mighty and how free! knowles. 
 
 14. I shall know but one country. The endd / aim at, shall be " My 
 Country's, my God's, and Truth's." Webster. 
 
24 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Note YII. — Antithetic Emphasis is that which is founded 
 on the contrast of one word or clause with another. 
 
 EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETIC EMPHASIS. 
 
 1. The faults of others should always remind us of our own. 
 
 2. He desired to protect his friend, not to injure him 
 
 8. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 
 
 Have stood against the world; now lies he there, 
 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. shakspeakh. 
 
 4. A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. bible. 
 
 5. We can do nothing against the truth ; but for the truth. bible. 
 
 G. He that is slow to anger, is better than the mighty ; and he that 
 Tuleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city. bible. 
 
 Note YIIT. — The following examples contain two or more 
 sets of Antitheses. 
 
 1. Just men are oxAy free, the rest are slaves. 
 
 2. Beauty is like the flower of spring; virtue is like the stars of heaven. 
 
 3. Truth crushed to earth shall rise again. 
 
 The eternal years of God are hers ; 
 But error, wounded, writhes in pain, 
 
 And dies amid her worshipers. butant. 
 
 4. A false balance is abomination to the Lord; but a fust weight is his 
 delight. BIBLE. 
 
 5. A friend can not be known in prosperity ; and an enemy can not be 
 hidden in adversity. 
 
 6. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be 
 my dying sentiment; independence now, and independence forever. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 7. We live in deeds, not years, — in thoughts, not breaths, — in feelings, not 
 in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He moat 
 
 lives, who THINKS THE MOST, FEELS THE NOBLEST, ACTS THE BEST. 
 
 8 You have done the mischief, and / bear the blame. 
 
 9. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation; the 
 fool, when he gains that of others. 
 
 10. We must hold them as wc hold the rest of mankind — enemies in 
 opar, — in peace, friend/f. .TKFFKasoN, 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 25 
 
 Note IX. — The sense of a passage is varied hj changing the 
 place of the emphasis 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but Charles has. 
 
 2. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but he haa heard from 
 him. 
 
 8. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No ; but he saw yours. 
 
 4. Has James seen his brother to-day ? No : but he has seen his 
 sister. 
 
 6. Has James seen his brother to-day? No; but he saw him yes- 
 ierday. 
 
 Kemark. — To determine the emphatic words of a sentence, 
 as well as the degree and kind of emphasis to be employed, the 
 reader mtjst be governed wholly by the sentiment to be expressed. 
 The idea is sometimes entertained that emphasis consists merely 
 in loudness of tone. But it should be borne in mind, that the 
 most intense emphasis may often be effectively expressed, evea 
 by a whisper. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 INFLECTIONS. 
 
 Inflections are turns or slides of the voice, made 
 in reading or speaking; as, Will you go to New 
 
 or to -^ 
 
 All the various sounds of the human voice may be compre- 
 hended under the general appellation of tones. The principal 
 modifications of these tones are. the Monotone, the Rising 
 Inflection, the Falling Inflection, and the Circumflex. 
 
26 SANDEES' UNION SEBIES. 
 
 The Horizontal Line ( — ) denotes the Monotone. 
 The Rising Slide ( x) denotes the Rising Inflection. 
 The Falling Slide ( \ ) denotes the Falling Inflection. 
 The Curve (^) denotes the Circumflex. 
 
 The Monotone is that sameness of sound, which arises 
 from repeating the several words or syllables of a passage 
 in one and the same general tone. 
 
 Remark. — The Monotone is employed with admirable effect 
 in the delivery of a passage that is solemn oj sublime. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. thou that rollest above, round as the shield of m^ fathers: 
 whence are thy beams, sun, thy everlasting light ? ossian. 
 
 2. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now 
 Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er 
 
 The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds 
 
 The bells' deep tones are swelling; 'tis the knell 
 
 Of the departed year. prentice. 
 
 3. God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran. 
 Selah. His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of His 
 praise. 
 
 4. Before Him went the pestilence, and burning coals went forth at 
 His feet. He stood and measured the earth: He beheld, and drove 
 asunder the nations ; and the everlasting mountains were scattered, the 
 perpetual hills did bow : His ways are everlasting. bible. 
 
 5. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the iirmaraent showeth 
 His handy work. Day unto day iittereth speech, and night unto night 
 showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language, where tjieir 
 -vulce is not heard. is. 
 
 6. How brief is life ! how passing brief! 
 
 How brief its joys and cares ! 
 It seems to be in league with time, 
 And leaves us unawares. 
 
 '^. The thUnder rolls : be hushed the prostrate world, 
 
 While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. Thomson. 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 27 
 
 Remark. — The inappropriate use of the monotone, — a fault 
 into which young people naturally fall, — is a very grave and 
 obstinate error. It is always tedious, and often even ridiculous. 
 It should be studiously avoided. 
 
 The Rising Inflection is an upward turn, or slide 
 of the voice, used in reading or speaking ; as, Are you 
 
 «»•■ 
 
 prepared to recite your ^ 
 
 The Falling Inflection is a downward turn, or slide 
 of the voice, used in reading or speaking ; as, What are 
 
 you 
 
 
 In the falling inflection, the voice should not sink below the 
 general pitch; but in the rising inflection, it is raised above it. 
 
 The two inflections may be illustrated by the following 
 diagrams : 
 
 1. Did he act "SV'^^ or 
 
 2. Did they go 
 
 8. If the flight of Dryden is '^y^ Pope continues longer on the 
 
 X If the blaze of Dryden's fire is ^^^^ the heat of Pope's ie 
 
 W 
 more regular and \< 
 
28 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 4. Is honor's lofty soul forever fled'' ? 
 
 Is virtue lost^ ? Is martial ardor dead'' ? 
 Is there no heart where worth and valor dwelK ? 
 No patriot Wallace^ ? No undaunted Tell'' ? 
 Yes\ Freedom, yes^ ! thy sons, a noble band, 
 Around thy banner, firm, exulting stand\ 
 
 Remark. — The same degree of inflection is not, at all times, 
 used, or indicated by the notation. The due degree to be 
 employed, depends on the nature of what is to be expressed. 
 For example j if a person, under great excitement, asks another. 
 
 
 Are you in "^ tbe degree of inflection would be much 
 
 greater, than if he playfully asks : Are you in '^ The 
 
 former inflection may be called intensive^ the latter, common. 
 
 RULES FOR THE USE OF INFLECTIONS. 
 
 RULE I. 
 
 Direct questions, or those which may be answered by 
 yes or no, usually take the rising inflection; but their 
 answers, generally, the falling, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Will you meet me at the depot'' ? Yes^ ; or, I will\ 
 
 2. Did you intend to visit Boston-'? No^; or, I did not\ 
 8. Can you explain this difficult sentence'' ? Yes'' ; I can. 
 
 4. Are they willing to remain at home'' ? They are\ 
 
 5. Is this a time for imbecility and inaction^? By no means'. 
 
 6. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets^ ? I know that thou 
 believest\ 
 
 7. Were the tribes of this country, when first discovered, making any 
 progress in arts and civilization'' ? By no meaus\ 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER, 29 
 
 8 To purchase heaven has gold the power^? 
 
 Can gold remove the mortal hour'' ? 
 In life, can love be bought with gold^ ? 
 Are friendship's pleasures to be sold-' ? 
 No^ ; all that's worth a wish, a thought, 
 Fair virtue gives unbrif>ed, unbought. 
 9. What would content you^ ? Talents^ ? No\ Enterprise^ ? No\ 
 Courage^? No\ Reputation^? No\ Virtue^? No\ The man 
 whom you would select, should possess not one, but all of these^. 
 
 Note I. — When the direct question becomes an appeal, and 
 the reply to it is anticipated, it takes the intense falling 
 inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. li" he not a bold and eloquent speaker^ ? 
 
 2. Can> such inconsistent measures be adopted^ ? 
 8. Di^ you ever hear of such cruel barbarities^ ? 
 4. Is this reason^ ? Is it law^ ? 7s it humanity^ ? 
 6. Wai" not the gentleman's argument conclusive^ ? 
 
 RULE II. 
 
 Indirect questions, or those which can not be answered 
 by ye% or wo, usually take t\iQ falling inflection, and their 
 answers the same. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. How far did you travel yesterday^ ? Forty miles\ 
 
 2. Which of you brought this beautiful bouquet^ ? Julia^. 
 
 8. Where do you intend to spend the summer^ ? At Saratoga*. 
 
 4. When -Will Charles graduate at college^ ? Next year\ 
 
 5. What is one of the most delightful emotions of the hearO? 
 Gratitude\ 
 
 Note I. — When the indirect question is one asking a repe- 
 tition of what was not, at first, understood, it takes the rising 
 inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. When do you expect to return ? Next week. 
 When did you say^ ? Next week. 
 
 2. Where did you say William had gone'' ? To New York. 
 
30 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. ; 
 
 Note II. — Answers to questions, whetlier direct or indirect, ^ 
 when expressive of indifference, take the rising inflection, or '■ 
 the circumflex. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Did you admire his discourse ? Not much''. 
 
 2. Which way shall we walk ? I am not particular^ 
 S. Can Henry go with us ? If he chooses'. 
 
 4. What color do you prefer ? I have no particular choice^ 
 
 Note III. — In some instances, direct questions become in- 
 direct by a change of the inflection from the rising to the 
 falling. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Will you come to-morrow' or next day' ? Yes. 
 
 2. Will you come to-morrow/ or next day^ ? I will come to-morrow. 
 
 Remark. — The first question asks if the person addressed 
 will come within the two days, and may be answered by yes or 
 no ; but the second asks on which of the two days he will come, 
 and it can not be thus answered. 
 
 KULE III. 
 
 When questions are connected by the conjunction or, 
 the first requires the rising^ and the second, the falling 
 inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Does he study for amusement'', or improvement^ ? 
 
 2. Was he esteemed for his wealth'', or for his wisdom^ ? 
 
 3. Sink'' or swim\ live' or die\ survive' or perish\ I give my hand 
 and heart to this vote. webster. 
 
 4. Is it lawful to do good on the Sabbath-days'', or to do evil^ ? to 
 gave life^ or to kiir ? bible. 
 
 5. Was it an act of moral courage'', or cowardice\ for Cato to fall on 
 his sword^ ? 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 31 
 
 RULE IV. 
 
 Antitlietic terms or clauses usually take opposite in- 
 flections ; generally, the former has the rising, and the 
 latter the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. If you seek to make one rich, study not to increase his stor<;£ , 
 but to diminish his desires\ 
 
 2. They have mouths', — but they speak not^: 
 JSyes have they', — but they see noO : 
 They have ears'', — but they hear not^ r 
 looses have they', — but they smell not^ : 
 They have hands', — but they handle not^r 
 
 Feet have they', — but they walk not\ biblh. 
 
 Note I. — When one of the antithetic clauses is a negative, 
 and the other an affirmative^ generally the negative has the 
 rising^ and the afl&rmative the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. T said an elder soldier\ not a better'. 
 
 2. His acts deserve punishment\ rather than commiseration^ 
 
 8. This is no time for a tribunal of justice', but for showing mercy^; 
 not for accusation', but for philanthropy^ ; not for trial', but for pardon^; 
 not for sentence and execution', but for compassion and kindness\ 
 
 RULE V. 
 
 The Pause of Suspension, denoting that the sense is 
 incomplete, usually has the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Although the fig-tree shall not blossom', neither shall fruit be in 
 the vine'; the labor of the olive shall fail', and the fields shall yield no 
 meat' ; the flocks shall be cut off from the fold', and there shall be no 
 herd in the stalls'; yet will I rejoice in the Lord\ I will joy in the 
 God of my salvation\ bible. 
 
32 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Note I. — The ordinary direct address, not accompanied with 
 strong emphasis, takes \the rising inflection on the principle of 
 the pause of suspension. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Men'', brethren', and fathers^, hear ye my defense which I make 
 DOW unto you. biblb. 
 
 2. Ye living flowers-', that skirt the eternal frost-' ! 
 Ye wild goats'', sporting round the eagle's nest''! 
 Ye eagles'', playmates of the mountain storm'' ! 
 Y'^e lightnings'', the dread arrows of the clouds'' ! 
 Ye signs'' and wonders'' of the elements'' ! 
 
 Utter forth God^, and fill the hills with praise^ ! colebidoe. 
 
 Note II. — In some instances of a pause of suspension, the 
 sense requires an intense falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 1. The prodigal, if he does not become a pauper^y will, at least, have 
 but little to bestow on others. 
 
 Hem ARK. — If the rising inflection is given on pauper ^ the 
 sense would be perverted, and the passage made to mean, that, 
 in order to be able to bestow on others, it is necessary that he 
 should become a pauper. 
 
 RULE VI. 
 
 Expressions of tenderness, as of srrief, or kindness, 
 commonly incline the voice to the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Mother'', — I leave thy dwelling' ; 
 
 Oh I shall it be forever'' ? 
 With grief my heart is swelling'', 
 From thee'', — from thee-', — to sever-'. 
 
 2. O my son Absalom' ! my son'', my son Absalom'' ! Would God I 
 had died for thee-', Absalom'', my son'', my son' ! \ii&\.v^. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 33 
 
 RULE VII. 
 
 The Penultimate Pause, or the last hut one, of a 
 passage, is usually preceded hy the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Diligence\ Indus try\ and proper improvement of time'', are mate- 
 rial duties of the young.^ 
 
 2. These through faith subdued kingdoms\ wrought righteousness\ 
 obtained promises\ stopped the mouths of lions\ quenched the violence 
 of fire\ escaped the edge of the sword\ out of weakness were made 
 Btrong\ waxed valiant in fight^, turned to flight the armies of the 
 aliens\ 
 
 Remark. — The rising inflection is employed at the penulti- 
 mate pause in order to promote variety, since the voice generally 
 falls at the end of a sentence. 
 
 RULE VIII. 
 
 Expressions of strong emotion, as of anger or surprise, 
 and also the language of authority and reproach, are 
 expressed with the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. On YOu\ and on your children^, be the peril of the innocent 
 blood which shall be shed this day\ 
 
 2. What a piece of workmanship is manM How noble in reasonM 
 How infinite in faculties^ ! 
 
 8. FOOLS^ ! and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets havo 
 written concerning me^ ! • bible. 
 
 4. Hence\ HaME\ you idle creatures^, get you home\ 
 
 You BLOCKS^ YOU ST0NES\ YOU WORSE THAN USELESS THINGS^ ! 
 
 5. Avaunt^ ! and quit my sight^ ! let the earth hide thee^ ! Thy bones 
 are marrowless^ ; thou hast no speculation in thine eyes which thou dost 
 glare^ with. shakspeabe. 
 
 6. Slave, do thy officeM Strike\ as I struck the foe^ ! 
 Strike\ as I would have struck the tyrants^ ! 
 
 Strike deep as my curso^ ! Strike\ and but once^ ! id. 
 
 3 
 
84 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 RULE IX. 
 An emphatic succession of particulars, and emphatic 
 repetition, require the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Bewari" what earth calls happiness ; be-warb^ 
 All joys but joys that never can expire\ 
 
 2. A great mind\ a great heart', a great orator\ a great career. 
 have been consigned to history\ butler. 
 
 Remark. — The stress of voice on each successive particu- 
 lar, or repetition, should gradually be increased as the subject 
 advances. 
 
 The Circumflex is a union of the two inflections on 
 the same word, beginning either with the falling and 
 ending with the rising, or with the rising and ending 
 
 with the falling ; as, If he goes to ^ ^a>^"^ I shall go to 
 
 The circumflex is mainly employed in the language of 
 irony, and in expressing ideas implying some condition, 
 either expressed or understood. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. You, a beardless youth, pretend to teach a British generaL 
 
 2. What! shear a -wolf ? a prowling wolf ? 
 
 8. My father's trade ? ah, really, that's too bad ? 
 
 My father's trade ? Why, blockhead, are you mad ? 
 My father, sir, did never stoop so low, — 
 He was a gentleman, I'd have you know. 
 
 4. What! confer a crown on the author of the public calamities? 
 
 5. But you are very wise men, and deeply learned in the truth ; we 
 are weak, contemptible, mean persons. 
 
 6. They pretend they come to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, 
 and free us from error. 
 
 7. But youth, it seems, is not my only crime ; I have been accused 
 of acting a theatrical part. 
 
 8. And this man has become a god, and Cassius a wretched creature. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 35 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 MODULATION. 
 
 Modulation implies those variations of the voice, 
 heard in reading or speaking, which are prompted by 
 the feelings and emotions that the subject inspires. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 EXPRESSIVE OP COURAGE AND CHIVALROUS EXCITEMENT. 
 
 Full f Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more^ 
 
 Tone. \ Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
 
 Middle r In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man. 
 
 Tone. I. As modest stillness and humility ; 
 
 r But when the blast of war blows in our ears. 
 Short . . , . „ , . 
 
 J Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
 
 ^ I StiflFen the sinews, summ'on up the blood, 
 
 [Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage. 
 
 High 
 
 AND 
 
 Loud. 
 
 Quick, 
 
 AND 
 VERY 
 
 Loud. 
 
 ' On, ON, you noblest English, 
 
 Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof I 
 Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought, 
 And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. 
 I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 
 Follow your spirits, and, upon this charge, 
 Cry — Heaven for Harry! England! and St. George! 
 
 shakspearb. 
 
 Remark. — To read the foregoing example in one dull, mo- 
 notonous tone of voice, without regard to the sentiment ex- 
 pressed, would render the passage extremely insipid and life- 
 less. But by a proper modulation of the voice, it infuses into 
 the mind of the reader or hearer the most animating and 
 exciting emotions. 
 
 The voice is modulated in three different ways. First, it is 
 varied in Pitch; that is, from high to low tones, and the 
 reverse. Secondly, it is varied in Quantity, or in loudness or 
 volume of sound. Thirdly^ it is varied in Quality, or in the 
 hind of sound expressed. 
 
SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 PITCH OF VOICE. 
 
 Pitch of Voice has reference to its degree of ele- 
 vation. 
 
 Every person, in reading or speaking, assumes a certain 
 pitch, which may be either high or low^ according to circum- 
 stances, and which has a governing influence on the variations 
 of the voice, above and below it. This degree of elevation is 
 usually called the Key Note. 
 
 As an exercise in varying the voice in pitch, the practice of 
 uttering a sentence on the several degrees of elevation, as 
 represented in the following scale, will be found beneficial. 
 First, utter the musical syllables, then the vowel sound, and 
 lastly, the proposed sentence, — ascending and descending, 
 
 8. — do — — e-in-me. — Virtue alone survives.   
 
 7. si t in' die. Virtue alone survives. 
 -6. — la — Q — o-in-do. — Virtue alone survives. — 
 
 5. sol o in no. Virtue alone survives 
 
 4. — fa — — a-in-at. — Virtue alone survives. — 
 
 8. mi ^ a in ate. Virtue alone survives. 
 -2, — re — — a-in-far. — Virtue alone survives 
 
 1. do a in all. Virtue alone survives. 
 
 Although the voice is capable of as many variations in 
 speaking, as are marked on the musical scale, yet for all the 
 purposes of ordinary elocution, it will be sufficiently exact if we 
 make but three degrees of variation, viz., the Low, the Middle^ 
 and the High. 
 
 1. The Low Pitch is that which falls below the usual 
 speaking key, and is employed in expressing emotions of 
 sublimity J awe, and reverence. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Silence, how dead! darkness, how profound I * 
 
 Nor eye, nor list'ning ear, an object finds ; 
 
 Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse 
 
 Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause, — 
 
 An awful pause I prophetic of her end. youno. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 37 
 
 2. The Middle Pitch is that usually employed in common 
 conversation, and in expressing unim}.passioned thought and 
 TTVoderate emotion. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. It was early in a summer morning, -when the air was cool, the 
 earth moist, the whole face of the creation fresh and gay, that I lately 
 walked in a beautiful flower garden, and, at once, regaled the senses 
 ; nd indulged the fancy. hebvey. 
 
 2. *' I love to live,'' said a prattling boy, 
 
 As he gayly played with his new-bought toy, 
 And a merry laugh went echoing forth, 
 From a bosom filled with joyous mirth. 
 
 8. The High Pitch is that which rises above the usual 
 speaking key, and is used in expressing joyous and elevated 
 feelings 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Higher, higher, ever higher, — 
 Let the watchword be '* Aspire!'* 
 
 Noble Christian youth ; 
 Whatsoe'er be God's behest, 
 Try to do that duty best, 
 
 In the strength of Truth. m. f. tupper. 
 
 QUANTITY. 
 
 Quantity is two-fold ; — consisting in fullness or 
 VOLUME of sound, as soft or loud ; and in time, as slow 
 or quick. The former has reference to stress; the 
 latter, to MOVEMENT. 
 
 The degrees of variation in quantity are numerous, varying 
 from a slight, soft whisper to a vehement shout. But for all 
 practical purposes, they may be considered as three, the same 
 as in pitch ; — the soft, the middle, and the loud. 
 
 For exercise in quantity, let the pupil read any sentence, as, 
 
 *' Beauty is a fading flower," 
 
88 ' SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 first in a slight, soft tone, and then repeat it, gradually in- 
 creasing in quantity to .the full extent of the voice. Also, let 
 liim read it first very slowly, and then repeat it gradually 
 increasing the movement. In doing this, he should be careful 
 not to vary the pitch. 
 
 In like manner, let him repeat any vowel sound, or all of 
 them, and also inversely. Thus : 
 
 00000000 OOO 
 OOOO 0000000 
 
 Remark. — Quantity is often mistaken for Pitch. But it 
 should be borne in mind that quantity has reference to loudness 
 or volume of sound, and pitch to the elevation or depression of a 
 tone. The difference may be distinguished by the slight and 
 heavy strokes on a bell : — both of which produce sounds alike 
 in pitch ; but they differ in quantity or loudness^ in proportion 
 as the strokes are light or heavy. 
 
 RULES FOR QUANTITY. 
 
 1. Soft, or Subdued Tones, are those which range from a 
 whisper to a complete vocality, and are used to express fear^ 
 caution^ secrecy y solemnity^ and all tender emotions. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. We watchefl her breathing through the night, 
 
 Her breathing soft and low, 
 As in her breast the wave of life 
 
 Kept heaving to and fro. • hood. 
 
 2. Softly, peacefully, 
 
 Lay her to rest ; 
 Place the turf lightly. 
 
 On her young breast. d. k. goodman. 
 
 8. The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
 
 And sighed for pity as it answered, — "No." 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 39 
 
 2. A Middle Tone, or medium loudness of voice, is em- 
 ployed in reading narrative^ descriptive^ or didaciic sentences, 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 I love my country's pine-clad hills, 
 Her thousand bright and gushing rills, 
 
 Her sunshine and her storms ; 
 Her rough and rugged rocks that rear 
 Their hoary heads high in the air, 
 
 In "wild fantastic forms. 
 
 3. A Loud Tone, or fullness and stress of voice is used in 
 expressing violent passions and vehement emotions, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Stand ! the ground's your oww, my braves,-— 
 Will ye give it up 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 ! pieepont, 
 
 2. '« Hold !" Tyranny cries ; but their resolute breath 
 Sends back the reply : " Independence or death !" 
 
 QUALITY. 
 
 Quality has reference to the kind of sound uttered. 
 
 Two sounds may be alike in quantity and pitch, yet diflfer in 
 quality. The sounds produced on the clarinet and flute, may 
 agree in pitch and quantity, yet be unlike in quality. The 
 same is true in regard to the tones of the voice of two indi- 
 viduals. This difference is occasioned mainly by the different 
 positions of the vocal organs. 
 
 The qualities of voice mostly used in reading or speaking^ 
 and which should receive the highest degree of culture, are the 
 Pure Tone^ the Orotund^ the Aspirated, and the Guttural. 
 
40 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 RULES FOR QUALITY. 
 
 1. The Pure Tone is a clear, smooth, sonorous flow of 
 sound, usually accompanied with the middle pitch of voice, 
 anH is adapted to express emotions oijoy^ cheerfulnesSj love^ and 
 tranquillity. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Hail ! beauteous stranger of the wood, 
 , Attendant on the spring, 
 Now heaven repairs thy vernal seat, 
 And woods thy welcome sing. 
 
 2. The Orotund is a full, deep, round, and pure tone of 
 voice, peculiarly adapted in expressing sublime and pathetic 
 emotions. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 It thunders ! Sons of dust, in reverence bow I 
 Ancient of Days ! Thou speakest from above : 
 Almighty ! trembling, like a timid child, 
 I hear thy awful voice. Alarmed — afraid — 
 I see the flashes of thy lightning wild, 
 And in the very grave would hide my head. 
 
 3. The Aspirated Tone of voice is not a pure, vocal sound, 
 hut rather a forcible breathing utterance, and is used to express 
 amazement^ fear^ terror^ anger, revenge, remorse, and fervent 
 emotions. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Oh, coward conscience, how dost thou afl'right me I 
 The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight ; 
 Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 
 4. The Guttural Quality is a deep, aspirated tone of 
 voice, used to express aversion, hatred^ loathing, and contempt. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Tell me I hate the bowl ? 
 
 Hate is a feeble word : 
 I loathe, ABHOR, my very soul 
 
 With strong disgust is stirred, 
 Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell. 
 Of the dark beverage of hell. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 41 
 
 NOTATION IN MODULATION. 
 
 (<')high. (p.) soft. 
 
 ('*°) high and loud. (^.) very soft. 
 
 ( o ) low. ( / ) loud, 
 
 (oo) low ^^^ loud. (/. ) very loud. 
 
 (=) quick. (p?.) plaintive. 
 
 ( " ) short and quick. { <C ) increase. 
 
 {si.) slow. (^ ) decrease. 
 
 EXAMPLES FOR EXEKCISE IN MODCXATIGIT. 
 
 (/>.) Soft is the strain -when zephyr gently blows, 
 
 And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; 
 
 (/.) But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, 
 
 The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. 
 
 (si.) When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw. 
 The line, too, labors, and the words move slow ; 
 
 (^ Not 80, when swift Camilla scours the plain. 
 
 Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main, pop: 
 
 ( ^) Go ring the bella and fire the guns. 
 
 And fling the starry banner out ; 
 (ff.) • fihout "Freedom" till your lisping ones 
 
 Give back the cradle shout. whittibb. 
 
 (j>L) ** 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 woe its bitterness had won thee. 
 May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home. 
 
 My lost boy, Absalom !" wiLua 
 
 isl.y The sun hath set in folded clouds, — 
 
 Its twilight rays are gone, 
 (^ And, gathered in the shades of night. 
 
 The storm is rolling on. 
 (pi.) Alas! how ill that bursting storm 
 
 /"-^\ The fainting spirit braves, 
 
 (^.) When they, — the lovely and the lost, — 
 
 (jd.) Are gone to early graves I 
 
42 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. ^ 
 
 (°) On ! onward still ! o'er the land he sweeps, 
 
 (<^^ With wreck, and ruin, and rush, and roar, 
 
 Nor stops to look back 
 
 On his dreary track, 
 (^^) But speeds to the spoils before. miss j. h. lbwis. 
 
 From every battle-field of the revolution — from Lexington afid Bunker 
 Hill — from Saratoga and Yorktown — from the fields of Eutaw — from the 
 cane-brakes that sheltered the men of Marion — the repeated, long- 
 prolonged echoes came up — (/.) *' The Union : it must be preserved.'* 
 (<C) From every valley in our land — from every cabin on the pleasant 
 mountain sides — from the ships at our wharves — from the tents of the 
 hunter in our westernmost prairies — from the living minds of the living 
 millions of American freemen — from the thickly coming glories of futu- 
 rity — the shout went up, like the sound of many waters, (ff.) "THE 
 UNION: IT MUST BE PRESERVED." Bancroft. 
 
 {p.) Hark! 
 
 (si.) Along the vales and mountains of the earth 
 
 (o)- There is a deep, portentous murmuring, 
 
 (=) Like the swift rush of subterranean streams. 
 
 Or like the mingled sounds of earth and air, 
 
 When the* fierce tempest, with sonorous wing, 
 
 Heaves his deep folds upon the rushing winds, 
 f<^') And hurries onward, with his night of clouds. 
 
 Against the eternal mountains. 'Tis the voice 
 
 Of infant Freedom, — and her stirring call 
 
 Is heard and answered in a thousand tones 
 ^<^^ From every hill-top of her western home ; 
 
 And lo ! it breaks across old Ocean's flood, — 
 (°°) And "Freedom! Freedom!" is the answering shout 
 
 Of nations, starting from the spell of years, g. d. prentioh. 
 
 ('^^ The thunders hushed, — 
 
 The trembling lightning fled away in fear, — . 
 
 (p.) The foam-capt surges sunk to quiet rest, — 
 
 The raging winds grew still, — 
 
 {pp.) There was a calm. 
 
 (°/°/) "Quick! Man the boat!" (=) Away they spring 
 
 The stranger ship to aid, 
 (/.) And loud their hailing voices ring, 
 
 As rapid speed they made. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 48 
 
 (p.) Hush ! lightly tread ! still tranquilly she sleeps ; 
 
 I've watched, suspending e'en my breath, in fear 
 To break the heavenly spell, {pp-} Move silently. 
 
 Can it be ? 
 Matter immortal ? and shall spirit die ? 
 Above the nobler, shall less nobler rise ? 
 (<[) Shall man alone, for whom all else revives, 
 
 No resurrection know? ( <C) Shall man alone, 
 
 Imperial man ! be sown in barren ground, 
 
 Less privileged than grain, on which he feeds ? youno. 
 
 (=) Away ! away to the mountain's brow, 
 
 Where the trees are gently waving ; 
 
 (J^) Away ! away to the vale below. 
 
 Where the streams are gently laving. 
 
 An hour passed on ; — the Turk awoke ; — 
 
 That bright dream was his last ; — 
 He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
 (oo) '<To ARMS ! they come! (/".) the Greek! the Greek!" 
 
 (pi) He woke — to die, midst flame and smoke» 
 And shout, and groan, and saber-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 ; — 
 (<•**) «* 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!" halleck. 
 
 He said, and on the rampart hights arrayed 
 His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
 (si.) Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
 
 {pp.) Still as the breeze, (qq) but dreadful as the storm I 
 
 {Pq.) Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly^^ 
 
 (/".) Revenge, or death ! — the watchword and reply ; 
 
 /oo\ Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
 
 (/.) And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! Campbell. 
 
 ("l") His speech was at first low-toned and slow. Sometimes hia 
 voice would deepen, (qq) Irke the sound of distant thunder; and anon, 
 (^^) his flashes of wit and enthusiasm would light up the anxious facea 
 of his hearers, (<0 like the far-off lightning of a coming storm. 
 
44 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 (^) Receding now, the dying numbers ring 
 
 {p.) Fainter and fainter, down the rugged dell: 
 
 (PP-) And now — 'tis silent all — enchantress, fare thee welL 
 
 (=) Oh, joy to the world ! the hour is come, 
 
 When the nations to freedom awake, 
 "When the royalists stand agape and dumb, 
 
 And monarchs with terror shake ! 
 Over the walls of majesty, 
 
 ** Upharsin" is writ in words of fire, 
 And the eyes of the bondmen, wherever they be. 
 Are lit with their wild desire. 
 (<^ Soon, soon shall the thrones that blot the world. 
 
 Like the Orleans, into the dust be hurl'd. 
 And the world roll on, like a hurricane's breath, 
 Till the farthest nation hears what it saith, — 
 (/.) "ARISE! ARISE! BE FREE !" t. b. eeao. 
 
 (p'\ Tread softly — bow the head, — 
 
 In reverent silence bow, — 
 No passing bell doth toll, — 
 (pi.) Yet an immortal soul 
 
 Is passing now. mrs. southet. 
 
 (■*) Speak OUT, my friends; would you exchange it for the demon's 
 DRINK, (ff) ALCOHOL? A skout, like the roar of a tempest, aa- 
 swered, (°°^ NO! 
 
 (*=■**) The combat deepens! (jf.) On! ye brave! 
 
 (=) Who rush to glory, (p.) or the grave ! 
 
 (#) Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave! 
 
 And CHARGE with all thy Chivalry ! 
 (pL) Ah! few shall part where many meet! 
 
 The snow shall be their winding sheet. 
 
 And every turf beneath their feet 
 f'l-^ Shall be a soldier's sepulcher ! campbeli.. 
 
 (si.) At length, o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks, 
 
 (°°) "Land! land!" cry the- sailors; (/".) "land! land!"— he 
 
 awakes, — 
 {^^) He runs, — yes ! behold it ! it blesseth Ms sight ! 
 The land ! 0, dear spectacle .' transport ! delight / 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 45 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 THE RHETORICAL PAUSE. 
 
 Rhetorical Pauses are those which are frequently 
 required by the voice in reading and speaking, although 
 the construction of the passage admits of no grammatical 
 pause. 
 
 These pauses are as manifest to the ear, as those which are 
 made by the comma, semicolon, or other grammatical pauses, 
 though not G-ommonly denoted in like manner by any visible 
 sign. In the following examples they are denoted thus^ ( || ). 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. In slumbers of midnight || the sailor-boy lay, 
 
 His hammock swung loose || at the sport of the wind ; 
 But watch-worn and weary, |J his cares flew away, 
 
 And visions of happiness [) danced o'er his mind. dimond. 
 
 2. There is a land,|| of every land the pride, 
 Beloved of heaven || o'er all the world beside ; 
 "Where brighter suns || dispense serener light. 
 And milder moons || imparadise the night. 
 
 O, thou shalt find,|| howe'er thy footsteps roam. 
 That land thy country, || and that spot thy home! 
 
 This pause is generally made before or after the utterance 
 of some important word or clause, on which it is especially 
 desired to fix the attention. In such cases it is usually denoted 
 by the use of the dash ( — ). 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. God said — ** Let there be light !" 
 
 2. All dead and silent was the earth, 
 
 In deepest night it lay ; 
 The Eternal spoke creation's word, 
 And called to being — Day ! 
 
46 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 No definite rule can be given with reference to the length of 
 the rhetorical, or grammatical pause. The correct taste of the 
 reader or speaker must determine it. For the voice should 
 sometimes be suspended much longer at the same pause in one 
 situation than in another j as in the two following 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 LONG PAUSE, 
 
 Pause a moment. I heard a footstep. Listen now. I heard it 
 again ; but it is going from us. It sounds fainter,-^still fainter. 
 It is gone. 
 
 SHORT PAUSE. 
 
 John, be quick. Get some water. Throw the powder overboard. 
 "It can npt be reached." Jump into the boat, then. Shove off. There 
 goes the powder. Thank Heaven. We are safe. 
 
 REMARKS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 It is of the utmost importance, in order to secure an easy and 
 elegant style in reading, to refer the pupil often to the more 
 important principles involved in a just elocution. To this end, 
 it will be found very advantageous, occasionally to review the 
 rules and directions given in the preceding pages, and thus 
 early accustom him to apply them in the subsequent reading 
 lessons. For a wider range of examples and illustrations, it is 
 only necessary to refer to the numerous and various exercises 
 which form the body of this book. They have been selected, 
 m many cases, with a special view to this object. 
 
PART SECOND. 
 
 LESSON I. 
 
 Vi' A DUCT, (via, a way; duct, lead;) a structure, usually of masonry, for 
 carrying a railway across a valley or river ; a bridge. 
 
 ACHIEVEMENTS AND DIGNITY OF LABOR. 
 
 REV. NEWMAN HALL. 
 
 'HE DIGNITY OF Labor ! Consider its achieve- 
 ments ! Dismayed by no difficulty, shrinking 
 from no exertion, exhausted by no struggle, ever 
 eager for renewed efforts in its persevering pro- 
 motion of human happiness, " clamorous Labor 
 knocks with its hundred hands at the golden gate 
 
 of the morning," obtaining each day, through succeeding 
 
 centuries, fresh benefactions for the world ! 
 
 2. Labor clears the forest, and drains the morass, and 
 makes the wilderness rejoice and blossom as the rose. La- 
 bor drives the plow, scatters the seed, reaps the harvest, 
 grinds the corn, and converts it into bread, the staff of 
 life. Labor, tending the pastures, as w^ell as cultivating 
 the soil, provides with daily sustenance the one thousafid 
 millions of the family of man. 
 
 3. Labor gathers the gossamer web of the caterpillar, 
 the cotton from the field, and the fleece from the flock, 
 and weaves them into raiment, soft, and warm, and beau- 
 tiful, — the purple robe of the prince, and the gray gown 
 
 47 
 
48 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 of the peasant, being alike its handiwork. Labor molds 
 the brick, splits the slate, quarries the stone, shapes the 
 column, and rears, not only the humble cottage, but the 
 gorgeous palace, the tapering spire, and the stately dome. 
 
 4. Labor, diving deep into the solid earth, brings up its 
 long-hidden stores of coal, to feed ten thousand furnaces, 
 and, in millions of habitations, to defy the winter's cold. 
 Labor explores the rich veins of deeply-buried rocks, ex- 
 tracting the gold, the silver, the copper, the tin, and the 
 oil. Labor smelts the iron, and molds it into a thousand 
 shapes for use and ornament, — from the massive pillar to 
 the tiniest needle, — from the ponderous anchor to the 
 wire-gauze, — from the mighty fly-wheel of the steam- 
 engine to the polished purse-ring or the glittering bead. 
 
 5. Labor hews down the gnarled oak, shapes the tim- 
 ber, builds the ship, and guides it over the deep, plunging 
 through the billows, and wrestling wdth the tempest, to 
 bear to our shores the produce of every clime. Labor 
 brings us India spices and American cotton ; African ivory 
 and Greenland oil ; fruits from the sunny South, and furs 
 from the frozen North ; tea from the East, and sugar from 
 the West ; carrying, in exchange, to every land, the prod- 
 ucts of industry and skill. Labor, by the universally- 
 spread ramifications of trade, distributes its own treasures 
 from country to country, from city to city, from house to 
 house, conveying to the doors of all, the necessaries and 
 luxuries of life ; and, by the pulsations of an untrammeled 
 commerce, maintaining healthy life in the great social 
 system. 
 
 6. Labor, fusing opaque particles of rock, produces 
 transparent glass, which it molds, and polishes, and com- 
 bines so wondrously, that sight is restored to the blind ; 
 while worlds, before invisible from distance, are brought so 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 49 
 
 near as to be weighed and measured with an unerring ex- 
 actness ; and atoms, which had escaped all detection from 
 minuteness, reveal a world of wonder and beauty in them- 
 selves. Labor, laughing at difihculties, spans majestic riv- 
 ers, carries viaducts^ over marshy swamps, suspends aerial 
 bridges above deep ravines, pierces the solid mountain with 
 its dark, undeviating tunnel, — blasting rocks and filling 
 hollows ; and, while linking together with its iron but lov- 
 ing grasp all nations of the earth, verifying, in a literal 
 sense, the ancient prophecy, " Every valley shall be exalted, 
 and every mountain and hill shall be made low."* 
 
 7. Labor draws forth its delicate iron thread, and, stretch- 
 ing it from city to city, from province to province, through 
 mountains, and beneath the sea, realizes more than fancy 
 ever fabled, while it constructs a chariot on which speech 
 may outstrip the wind, compete with the lightning, and fly 
 as rapidly as thought itself. Labor seizes the thoughts of 
 Genius, the discoveries of Science, the admonitions of Piety, 
 and, with its magic types impressing the vacant page, ren- 
 ders it pregnant with life and power, perpetuating truth 
 to distant acres, and diffusino- it to all mankind. Labor sits 
 enthroned in Palaces of Crystal, whose high-arched roofs 
 proudly sparkle in the sunshine which delighteth to honor 
 it, and whose ample courts are crowded with the trophies 
 of its victories in every country, and in every age. 
 
 8. Labor, a mighty Magician, walks forth into a region 
 uninhabited and waste : he looks earnestly at the scene, so 
 quiet in its desolation ; then, waving his wonder-workinor 
 \vand,f those dreary valleys smile with golden harvests; 
 
 * Isa., 40th chap., 4th verse. 
 
 t In the phrase, " Waving his wonder-working wand," the reader will notice 
 a beautiful example of alliteration. Alliteration is the repetition of the same 
 letter at the commencement of two or more words, immediately succeeding 
 each other, or at short intervals. 
 
 3 
 
50 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 those barren mountain slopes are clothed with foliage ; the 
 furnace blazes ; the anvil rings ; the busy wheels whirl 
 round; the town appears, — the mart of Commerce, the 
 hall of Science, the temple of Religion, rear high their lofty- 
 fronts; a forest of masts, gay with varied pennons, rises 
 from the harbor ; the wharves are crowded with commer- 
 cial spoils, — the peaceful spoils which enrich both him 
 who receives and him who yields. 
 
 9. Representatives of far-off regions make it their re- 
 sort ; Science enlists the elements of earth and heaven in 
 its service ; Art, awaking, clothes its strength with beauty ; 
 Literature, newborn, redoubles and perpetuates its praise ; 
 Civilization smiles ; Liberty is glad ; Humanity rejoices ; 
 Piety exults, — for the voice of Industry and Gladness is 
 heard on every hand. And who^ contemplating such 
 achievements^ will deny that there is dignity in labor ? 
 
 LESSON IL 
 
 * Tel'e scope, (TELE,^r off; SCOPE, view or sight,) an instrument to view 
 
 things far off. 
 - Mi' CRO SCOPE, (micro, small; scope, view or sight,) an instrument to 
 
 view things minute or small. 
 ' Tel'e graph, (tele, /ar off; graph, urriting or marking,) a machine to 
 
 convey news far off. See Sanders' Union Speller, pages 146, 147. 
 
 POWERS OF THE HAND. 
 
 dr. GEORGE WILSON. 
 
 IN many respects, the organ of touch, as embodied in tho 
 hand, is the most wonderful of the senses. The organs 
 of the other senses are passive : the organ of touch alone is 
 active. The eye, the ear, and the nostril, stand simply 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 51 
 
 open : Hglit, sound, and fragrance enter, and we are com- 
 pelled to see, to hear, and to smell ; but tlie hand selects 
 what it shall touch, and touches what it pleases. It puts 
 away from it the things w^hich it hates, and beckons toward 
 it the things which it desires ; unlike the eye, which must 
 often gaze transfixed at horrible sights from which it can 
 not turn ; and the ear, which can not escape from the tort- 
 ure of discordant sounds; and the nostril, which can not 
 protect itself from unpleasant odors. ' 
 
 2. Moreover, the hand cares not only for its own wants, 
 but, when the other organs of the senses are rendered use- 
 less, takes their duties upon it. The hand of the blind 
 man goes with him as an eye through the streets, and safely 
 threads for him all the devious way. It looks for him at 
 the faces of his friends, and tells him whose kindly features 
 are gazing on him. It peruses books for him, and quickens 
 the long and tedious hours by its silent readings. It min- 
 isters as Avillingly to the deaf; and when the tongue is 
 dumb, and the ear stopped, its fingers speak eloquently to 
 the eye, and enable it to discharge the unwonted office of 
 a listener. 
 
 3. The organs of all the other senses, also, even in their 
 greatest perfection, are beholden to the hand for the en- 
 hancement and the exaltation of their powers. It con- 
 structs for the eye a copy of itself, and thus gives it a 
 telescope^ with which to range among the stars ; and by 
 another copy on a slightly different plan, furnishes it with 
 a microscope^ and introduces it into a new world of won- 
 ders. It constructs for the ear the instruments by which it 
 is educated, and sounds them in its hearing till its powers 
 are trained to the full. It plucks for the nostril the flower 
 whose odors it delights to inhale, and distills for it the fra- 
 grance which it covets. 
 
52 SANDERS' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 4. As for the tongue, if it had not the hand to serve 
 it, it might abdicate its throne as the lord of Taste. In 
 short, the organ of touch is the minister of its sister senses, 
 and is the handmaid of them all. And, if the hand tlms 
 mnnificently serves the body, not less amply does it give 
 expression to the genius and the wit, the courage and the 
 affection, the will and the power, of man. Put a sword 
 into it, and it w^ill fight for him-; put a plow into it, and it 
 will till for him ; put a harp into it, and it will play for 
 him ; put a pencil into it, and it will paint for him ; put a 
 pen into it, and it will speak for him, plead for him, pray 
 for him. What will it not do ? What has it not done ? 
 
 5. A steam-engine is but a larger hand, made to extend 
 its powers by the little hand of man ! An electric tele- 
 graph^ is but a long pen for that little hand to write with] 
 All our huge cannons and other weapons of w^ar, with 
 which we conquer our enemies, are but the productions 
 of the wonder-working hand ! What, moreover, is a ship, 
 a railway, a lighthouse, or a palace, — what, indeed, is a 
 whole city, a whole continent of cities, all the cities of 
 the globe, nay, the very globe itself, in so far as man has 
 changed it, but the work of that giant hand^ with wdiich 
 the human race, acting as one mighty man, has executed 
 its will ! 
 
 6. When I think of all that man and w^oman's hand has 
 wrought, from the day when Eve put forth her erring hand 
 to pluck the fruit of the forbidden tree, to that dark hour 
 when the pierced hands of the Savior of the world were 
 nailed to the predicted tree of shame, and of all that human 
 hands have done of good and evil since, I lift up my hand, 
 and gaze upon it with wonder and awe. What an instini- 
 ment for good it is ! What an instrument for evil ! and 
 all the day long it is never idle. There is no implement 
 
UNION FIFTH BEADER. 53 
 
 which it can not wield, and it should never, in working 
 hours, be without one. 
 
 7. We unwisely restrict the term handicraftsman, or 
 hand-worker, to the more laborious callings ; but it be- 
 longs to all honest, earnest men and women, and is a title 
 which each should covet. For the queen's hand there is 
 the scepter, and for the soldier's hand the sword ; for the 
 carpenter's hand the saw, and for the smith's hand the 
 hammer ; for the farmer's hand the plow ; for the miner's 
 hand the spade ; for the sailor's hand the oar ; for the 
 painter's hand the brush ; for the sculptor's hand the 
 chisel ; for the poet's hand the pen ; and for Avoman's hand 
 the needle. But for all there is the command, " Whatso- 
 ever thy handfindeth to do, do it with thy might, ''^ * 
 
 LESSON III. 
 THERE'S WORK ENOUGH TO DO. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. rriHE blackbird early leaves its rest 
 X To meet the smiling morn, 
 And gather fragments for its nest, 
 
 From upland, wood, and lawn. 
 The busy bee, that wings its way 
 
 'Mid sweets of varied hue, 
 At every flower would seem to say, 
 
 "•There's work enough to do.^^ 
 
 2. The cowslip and the spreading vine, 
 
 The daisy in the grass, 
 
   Eccl., 9th chap., 10th verse. 
 
54 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 The snow-drop and tlie eglantine, 
 Preach sermons as we pass. 
 
 The ant, within its cavern deep, 
 Would bid us labor too, 
 
 And writes upon its tiny heap, 
 "There's work enough to do.^^ 
 
 3. The planets, at their Maker's will, 
 
 Move onward in their cars ; 
 For nature's wheel is never still, — 
 
 Progressive as the stars ! 
 The leaves that flutter in the air, 
 
 And summer breezes woo. 
 One solemn truth to man declare, 
 
 ''''There's ivork enough to do^ 
 
 4. Who then can sleep, when all around 
 (< ) Is active, fresh, and free ? 
 
 Shall Man, creation's lord, be found 
 Less busy than the bee'? 
 
 Oar courts and alley's are the field. 
 If men would search them through, 
 
 That best the sweets of labor yield, 
 And " work enough to do^ 
 
 6. The time is short, — the world is wide. 
 
 And much has to be done ; 
 This wondrous earth, and all its pride. 
 
 Will vanish with the sun ! 
 The moments flv on lightning's winirs. 
 
 And life's uncertain too ; 
 We've none to waste on foolish thino-s, 
 
 "There'' s ivork enough to do^^ 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 65 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 FIELDS FOR LABOR. 
 
 1. TF you can not on the ocean 
 JL Sail among the swiftest fleet, 
 Rocking on the highest billows, 
 
 Laughing at the storms you meet, 
 You can stand among the sailors, 
 
 Anchored yet within the bay. 
 You can lend a hand to help them 
 
 As they launch their boats away. 
 
 2. If you are too weak to journey 
 
 Up the mountain steep and high, 
 You can stand within the valley 
 
 While the multitudes go by ; 
 You can chant in happy measures 
 
 As they slowly pass along ; 
 Though they may forget the singer, 
 
 They will not forget the song. 
 
 3. If you have not gold or silver 
 
 Ever ready to command. 
 If you can not toward the needy 
 
 Reach an ever-open hand, 
 You can visit the afflicted. 
 
 O'er the erring you can weep ; 
 You can be a true disciple 
 
 Sitting at the Master's feet. 
 
 4. If you can not in the conflict 
 
 Prove yourself a soldier true, 
 
66 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 If, where fire and smoke are thickest, 
 There's no Avork for you to do, 
 
 When the battle-field is silent 
 You can go with careful tread. 
 
 You can bear away the wounded. 
 You can cover up the dead. 
 
 6. Do not then stand idly waiting 
 For some greater work to do : 
 
 Fortune is a lazy goddess, 
 She will never come to you. 
 
 Go and toil in any vineyard, 
 
 . Do not fear to do or dare ; 
 
 If you want a field of labor, 
 You can find it anywhere. 
 
 LESSON V. 
 
 * Hel' I CON, a monntain in Bceotia, Greece, supposed by the Greeks to be 
 the residence of Apollo and the Muses. 
 
 A pol' lo, among the Greeks and Romans, was the presiding deity of arch- 
 ery, prophecy, music, and medicine ; and president and protector of the 
 Muses. 
 
 My' SES, the fabled goddesses who presided over literary, artistic, and scien- 
 tific matters and labors ; the geniuses of art, literature, or music. 
 
 WHERE THERE'S A WILL, THERE'S A WAY. 
 
 J. Go SAXE. 
 
 1. TT was a noble Roman, 
 X In Rome's imperial day. 
 Who heard a coward croaker, 
 Before the castle, say. 
 
tTNION FIFTH EEADEB. 57 
 
 *' They 're safe in such a fortress ; 
 
 There is no way to shake it ! " 
 "(?m/ on ! " exclaimed the hero, 
 
 '' Pll find a way^ or make it! " 
 
 2. Is Fame your aspiration' ? 
 
 Her path is steep and high ; 
 In vain you seek her temple, 
 
 Content to gaze and sigh : 
 The shining throne is waiting, 
 
 But he alone can take it, 
 Who says, with Roman firmness, 
 
 " Fll find a way^ or make it / " 
 
 3. Is Learning your ambition'? 
 
 There is no royal road ; 
 Alike the peer and peasant 
 
 Must climb to her abode ; 
 Who feels the thirst for knowledge 
 
 In Helicon^ may slake it, 
 If he has still the Roman will, 
 
 To ''find a way, or make it! " 
 
 4. Are Riches worth the getting' ? 
 
 They must be bravely sought ; 
 With wishing and with fretting. 
 
 The boon can not be bought ; 
 To all the prize is open. 
 
 But only he can take it. 
 Who says, with Roman courage, 
 
 "I'll find a way, or make it! " 
 
 Question. — What rule for the rising inflections, as marked at the first 
 line in the 2d, 3d, and 4th stanzas ? See page 28. 
 
58 SANDEES' UKION SEEIES. 
 
 LESSON YI. 
 
 * Curl' er, a player at the game called curling, which consists in propelling 
 by the hand a heavy weight, as a large stone or mass of iron, along the 
 surface of the ice, so as to strike another heavy weight, and drive it in 
 any given direction. 
 
 THE OFFICES OF MEMORY. 
 
 ISLAY BURNS. 
 
 MAN alone, of all the creatures on the earth, carries 
 about with him a three-fold life. He exists at once 
 in the past^ in t\\Q present^ and in the future. Memory, on 
 the one hand, and hope, on the other, reveal, each of them, 
 a world of its own, besides the world of real passing ex- 
 istence, and in all these worlds every one of us lives. The 
 one looks backward, the other forward ; the one lives in 
 yesterday, the other in to-morrow. The one watches the 
 setting sun of the past, the other salutes the dawning morn 
 of the future. Hope, in short, sanguine and light-hearted, 
 builds airy castles in the future sky ; memory wanders, 
 thoughtful and sad, amid the moldering ruins and withered 
 leaves of the past. 
 
 2. You have all a great deal to do, my young friends, 
 with memory. Every day you have to make use of it, if 
 in no other way, at least, in the learning of those appoiiited 
 tasks, in which now the main business of your life consists. 
 You have, in fact, as much to do with your memory, as 
 the workman has to do with his tools, and should, therefore, 
 not only know a great deal about it, but be interested to 
 know more. Bat it may be, that while daily using, you 
 have not thought enough of this wondrous gift of God, — 
 of its nature, its uses, its reponsibilities, its blessings. What 
 then is the memory ? 
 
 3. Memory is an Historian. — Every human being, 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 59 
 
 like every nation, has his history, and memory writes that 
 liistory. Each of you has a history, and memory is writ- 
 ino" it. It sits alone and silent within your bosom, and 
 writes. With quick, observant eye it watches all that is 
 passing around, hears every word, marks every deed, and, 
 with busy hand, transfers it to its secret register. It makes 
 no remark on what it sees or hears, gives no sign either of 
 approval or of blame, but simply marks and records. It 
 says nothing, but writes every thing. 
 
 4. Would you not start sometimes if you saw a silent 
 stranger always watching you, a glistening eye always 
 upon you, a quick hand writing all about you' ? And yet 
 this is what your own memory is doing every hour. Day 
 after day it pursues this task unceasingly. Page after page 
 is filled with the mystic writing, and the great volume 
 grows, slowly but steadily. Each day completes a page, 
 each year a chapter, each successive stage in life a volume, 
 of the awful scroll. Sometimes it is written in faint dim 
 lines, sometimes in broad glaring characters, sometimes in 
 letters of light, aud sometimes of inky blackness. 
 
 5. There are black days and white days, — days bright 
 with blessing, and days dark with woe and sin, as in our 
 real life, so in this its faithful register. How interesting, 
 then, mu.^t this history be ! What tale to me so absorbing 
 and so instructive as that which is all about myself ! What 
 stirring incidents too, and thrilling scenes, does the life 
 even of the humblest often present ! what vicissitudes of 
 joy and sorrow, light and darkness ! what touches of 
 pathos and bursts of passion ! what agonies, and battles, 
 and wounds ! 
 
 6. Memory is a Painter. — It not only makes notes 
 of the past, but pictures of the past. It photographs the 
 events and scenes of the passing hour, and preserves them 
 
60 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 in its faithful volume for evermore. The history of our 
 life, which memory is writing, is an illustrated history, — 
 in which there are not only the printed words, but the li vino- 
 faces and forms of the men and things we read about. An 
 illustrated Jdstory memory is now writing of you, only that 
 in your history the facts are all true, and the pictures are 
 all drawn fresh from the life. Or, I miglit say, that your 
 mind is a chamber hung all round with pictures, — and it 
 is memory that drew those pictures, and is always standing 
 by to explain them, and to tell you all about them. 
 
 7. Every one of you has already a great many of these 
 pictures in his heart. Here is your mother's face, which 
 you can still look at, when away from home, and see her 
 looking at, and smiling on you. Here is a brother or a 
 sister, now far away in a distant land, and whom you may 
 never see, save in the heart's living pictures, in this world 
 again. Here is your old school, and your old play-ground, 
 and the merry faces and forms of your old playmates. 
 
 8. Here is the pleasant cottage on the coast, where you 
 spent last summer, — Avith the fair woodegl shore, the bright 
 sea, the boats, and the ships. Here are the great snow- 
 wreaths of last winter, and the misty lake, and the skaters, 
 and the curlers.^ (i^^O And here is your little brother's 
 grave, — and here is his own fair form as he lay silent in 
 his coffin before its lid was closed forever ! Yes ; you 
 can see him yet, — you can stand by once more, — you can 
 lay your hand on the cold marble brow, and gently, rever- 
 ently, touch the golden locks that cluster around it ! What 
 a wonderful thing, then, is memory! How kind it is of 
 God to bestow upon us such a faculty ! 
 
 9. We have all of us our family Album, containing the 
 faces and forms of those whom we know and love. But 
 we sometimes forget that every one of us has his own per- 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 61 
 
 sonal album, too, laid up within the secret chamber of his 
 heart, and which no hand can unclasp, no eye can look 
 upon, but his own. Oh ! it is pleasant sometimes to close- 
 one's eyes, and, in the calm, bright, holy light of the heart, 
 look at those pictures one by one ! 
 
 10. Memory i3 a Treasurer. — It is the soul's wise 
 and careful store-keeper, gathering together from day to 
 day all manner of precious and useful things, and safely 
 keeping them. Useful facts, wise maxims and rules, pre- 
 cious and holy truths, improving examples, sacred memo- 
 ries of home and friends, and kind, loving looks and words, 
 — all these this wondrous faculty catches up, and keeps, 
 and stores away, that they may minister to the use or the 
 blessing of future days. 
 
 11. Thus we become truly rich, — -rich in the treasures 
 and hived stores of the memory; and truly there is no 
 kind of riches like them, except one, and that is better 
 still, — ^^the treasures of the heart, the treasures of holy feel- 
 ing and affection. Are you rapidly gathering such a treas- 
 ure ? Now is the time to do it. The great faculty of 
 youth is the memory/, and the great business of youth is the 
 use of the memory. You are now taking in stock, — gath- 
 ering all manner of valuable stores, which you will learn 
 to arrange, and turn to use in after years. 
 
 12. Memory is a Comforter, and a Reprover. — It 
 is a most sweet comforter, and a most sharp and terrible 
 repfover. And how does it comfort or reprove ? Just by 
 opening its book again, and reading out what is written 
 there. When one page of the book is finished, it is turned 
 over, and another is begun ; but the folded page may be 
 turned up again, and laid open before our eyes. I said 
 there are bright pages and dark pages in memory's book. 
 It comforts us by turning up the one, — it rebukes us by 
 turning up the other. 
 
62 SANDERS' tTNION SEHIES. 
 
 13. MaJce good use of your memory. N'ow is the time 
 to do it. Youth is tlie time for remembering. In youth 
 we remember most easily, and we longest retain what we 
 have learned. Facts early learned, lessons early taught, 
 impressions early received, solemn seasons and scenes early 
 witnessed, live on in the memory through a lifetime, and 
 retain all their vivid freshness and reality, when the things 
 of intervening years are forgotten. 
 
 14. Never do anything which you would like to forget. 
 There are things wliich people would fain forget, but can 
 not ; dark pages and frightful pictures in the book of mem- 
 ory, which they would fain cover up from sight forever, 
 but which will not be covered up, but wliich keep turning 
 up ever afresh before their eyes. Tlie things we would 
 fain forget, are those very things we are most sure to 
 remember. And, even though it were not so in this 
 world, there is a day coming, when all " the books shall 
 be opened," and when " God shall bring every work into 
 judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or 
 whether it be evil." * 
 
 LESSON YII. 
 
 * Sym' pa thize, (sym, tor/ether or with; vxTVi,feding ; IZE, to make, have;) 
 
 to have a common feeling, or fellow-feeling. 
 t Re'tro spect, (retro, back; spect, view; a looking;) a looking back en 
 
 things past. 
 
 THE MEMORY OF JOY. 
 
 GREENWOOD. 
 
 HOW bountifully gifted is man ! He lives not only in 
 t\\Q present^ but in \\\q past Sind future. The days of 
 his childhood belong to him, even when his hair is white 
 * Eccl., 12th chap., 14th verse. 
 
TTNION FIFTH READER. 63 
 
 and his eyes are clouded ; and Heaven itself may open on 
 his vision, while he is wanderino; amono* the shadows of 
 earth, and dwelling in a tabernacle of clay. He may look 
 hack to the rosy dawn and faint glimmerings of his intel- 
 lectual day, and forward till his unchecked sight discerns 
 the dwelling-place of God, and grows familiar with eter- 
 nity. 
 
 2. The greater part of our mental pleasures is drawn 
 from the sources of memory and hope ; for, while Hope is 
 constantly adorning the future w^ith her fresh colors and 
 bright images. Memory is as active in bringing back to us 
 the joys of the past. But Hope and Memory are to be 
 consulted on the real business, as well as the meditative 
 delights, of existence ; for, what would be the excitement 
 of labor without the encouragements of Hope ? and where 
 could Experience go for his treasures, if the storehouse of 
 Memory should fail ? 
 
 3. Let us attend to the instructive voice of Memory. 
 Let us lend a careful ear to the moral of her tales. Let 
 us, like the Psalmist, when we remember the days of old, 
 hallow our reminiscences by meditating on the works of 
 God, — by tracing the hand of a merciful Providence 
 through the varied fortunes of our course. 
 
 4. The memory of joy reaches far hack in the annals of 
 every one's life. Indeed, there are many who persuade 
 themselves that they never experienced true pleasure, ex- 
 cept in the earliest stages of their career ; who complain 
 that, when the hours of childhood flew away, they bore off 
 the best joys of life upon their wings, leaving passion to be 
 the minister of youth, and care to be the portion of man- 
 hood, and regret and pain to drag old age into the grave. 
 
 5. I can not sympathize^ in these gloomy views. I con- 
 sider them in a high degree unjust to the happiness which 
 
64 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 God has spread out liberally through every division of our 
 days, and wliich can be missed or forfeited in hardly any 
 other manner than through our willful sins. But I do not 
 the less share the visions and participate in the pleasures 
 of those who love to retrace the green paths of their early 
 years, and refresh their hearts with the retrospect^ of guile- 
 less innocence, of sun-bright hopes, of delights that the 
 merest trifle could purchase, and of tears that any kind 
 hand could wipe away. 
 
 6. How many scenes exist in the remembrance of each 
 one of us, soft, and dim, and sacred, beyond the painter's 
 art to copy, but hung up, as in an ancient gallery, for the 
 visits and contemplation of our maturer minds ! Mellowed 
 they are, and graced, like other pictures, by the slow and 
 tasteful hand of Time. 
 
 7. The groves, through which we ran as free as our 
 playmate, the wind, wave with a more graceful foliage, 
 and throw a purer shade : the ways which our young feet 
 trod, have lost their ruggedness, and are bordered every- 
 where with flowers ; and no architecture that we have 
 since seen, though we may have wandered through kings' 
 palaces, can equal the beauty of the doors which our hands 
 first learned to open, and of the apartments which once 
 rang with the echoes of our childish glee. 
 
 8. There was joy in our hearts when ive first began to 
 take a part in the serious business of life, and felt that we 
 were qualifying ourselves for a station — perhaps an hon- 
 orable one — among our seniors. We were joyful when 
 we won the prize of exertion, or received the praise and 
 the smiles of those whose praise and smiles were worth to 
 us more than any other reward. Joy was our companion 
 when we first went out a little way upon the broad face of 
 the Earth, and saw how fair and grand she was, covered 
 
ITNION FIFTH READER. 65 
 
 with noble cities, and artful monuments, and various pro- 
 ductions, and the busy tribes of men. Joy came with 
 friendship, and affection, and confidence, and the pure 
 interchano;e of liearts and thoughts. 
 
 9. And more than tliis, we were joyful when we were 
 virtuous and useful ; when we strove against a besetting 
 temptation, and knew that our spirit was strong to subdue 
 it ; when Ave came out boldly, and denounced injustice, and 
 defended the right ; when w^e gave up a selfish gratifica- 
 tion, and received a blessing ; wdien we forbore to speak 
 ill of a rival, though by so doing we might have advanced 
 our own claims ; when w^e dismissed envy from our bosoms, 
 and made it give place to a generous admiration ; when we 
 forgave an enemy, and prayed from our hearts that God 
 might forgive him too ; when we stretched out a willing 
 hand to heal, to help, to guide, to protect, to save ; in 
 short, whenever we discharged an obligation and per- 
 formed a duty, and earned the approbation of conscience. 
 
 10. The recollection of our joys will show us how henefi- 
 cent our Creator has been to us, in furnishincr each age 
 with its appropriate pleasures, and filling our days with a 
 variety, as well as a multitude, of blessings. It will teach 
 us to keep an account of our enjoyments, and to avoid the 
 fault of those who minutely reckon up their pains and mis- 
 fortunes, but ungratefully pass over the kind allotments of 
 Providence. We shall find, if our moral taste is not en- 
 tirely perverted, that the joys wdiich afford the greatest 
 delight to our memory, are those which flowed in child- 
 hood from its innocence^ and, in after life, from our good 
 deeds. If we take pleasure in recurring to the innocence 
 of our first years, let At be our watchful care to retain and 
 preserve it^ for it is not necessarily destroyed by knowledge, 
 nor does it invariably depart at the approach of maturity. 
 
 6 
 
G6 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 11. A similar improvement may be made of the memory 
 of our good deeds. We should use all diligence in adding 
 to their store ; for, if they are now the most precious treas- 
 ures of the soul, they certainly will not diminish in price, 
 when the common enjoyments of life are losing their relish, 
 and its bustle no longer engages us, and the tide of our 
 energies is fast ebbing away, and we only wait for the sum- 
 mons of departure. What solace is there to an aged man 
 like the memory of his virtuous actions? What medicine 
 is there so healing to his wasted, solitary heart? What 
 ground of hope is there so sure to his spirit, next to the 
 mercy of his God ? 
 
 LESSON VIII. 
 THE HOUSE BY THE ROLLING RIVER. 
 
 LIXNA SCHfCNK. 
 
 1. rpHERE stood, in the beautiful olden time, 
 JL A house by the rolling river ; 
 Behind it there towered a bluff old hill, 
 And by it wandered a murmuring rill. 
 
 On its way to the rolling river. 
 
 2. 'Twas a happy house in the olden time, — 
 
 That house by the rolling river, 
 And happy the children who lived in it then, 
 Happier far than they can be again, 
 
 In the house by the rolling river. 
 
 3. 'Twas beautiful, too, in the olden time, — 
 
 That spot by the rolling river, — 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 67 
 
 With the maple bough shading its lowly eaves, 
 Where the little ones played with the faUing leaves, 
 Near by the rolling river. 
 
 4. But time rolled on o'er the old brown house 
 
 That stood by the rolling river ; 
 And the gray rats raced through the crumbling wall, 
 And the wild winds wailed through the vacant hall. 
 
 Of the house by the rolling river. 
 
 5. And the little ones all have passed away 
 (j^Z.) From the house by the rolHng river ; 
 
 " Some are married and some are dead, — 
 All are scattered now and fled " 
 Away from the rolling river. 
 
 6. On a 'neath southern skies is sleeping. 
 
 Far from the rolling river ; 
 And none can weep o'er the place of his fall, — 
 He was dearest and best beloved of all 
 
 In the house by the rolling river. 
 
 7. But no2V there standeth a tow^n in its pride, 
 
 On the banks of the rolling river ; 
 The whiz of the mill-wheel is noisy and loud. 
 And the church-spire points aloft to the cloud, 
 
 By the side of the rolling river. 
 
 8. And the busy young town will grow old in its time. 
 
 That stands by the rolling river ; 
 The spire and the mill-wheel will go to decay. 
 And all the people will pass away, 
 
 That dwell by the rolling river. 
 
68 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 9. Thus Time, the Destroyer, shall desolate all 
 That stand by the rolling river ; 
 But not until time shall be no more, 
 Will the wave of the river cease to roar, — 
 The beautiful, rolling river. 
 
 LESSON IX. 
 
 This piece should be read quite slowly, and in a low tone of voicb- 
 THE LIGHT AT HOME. 
 
 1. rpHE Light at Home ! how bright it beams 
 X When evening shades around us fall. 
 And from the lattice far it gleams. 
 
 To love, and rest, and comfort, call ! 
 When wearied with the toils of day, — 
 
 The strife for glory, gold, or fame, 
 LIow sweet to seek the quiet way, 
 
 Where loving lips will lisp our name, 
 Around the Light at Home! 
 
 2. When, through the dark and stormy night, 
 
 The wayward wanderer homeward hies, 
 How cheering is that twinkling light 
 
 . Which through the forest gloom he spies! 
 It is the Light at Home, — he feels 
 
 That loving hearts will greet him there. 
 And softly through his bosom steals 
 That joy and love which banish care, 
 Around the Light at Home ! 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. C9 
 
 3. The Light at Home, whene'er at last 
 
 It greets the seaman through the storm, 
 He feels no more tlie chilling blast 
 
 That beats upon his manly form. 
 Long years upon the sea have fled, 
 
 Since last he saw the parting light ; 
 But the sad tears which then he shed 
 
 Will now be paid with sweet delight, 
 Around the LigJit at Home ! 
 
 4. The Light at Home ! how still and sweet 
 
 It peeps from yonder cottage door, — 
 The weary laborer to greet, — 
 
 When the rough toils of day are o'er ! 
 Sad is the soul that does not know 
 
 The blessings that its beams imjmrt, - - 
 The cheerful hopes and joys that flow, 
 
 And lighten up the heaviest heart. 
 
 Around the Light at Home. 
 
 LESSON X. 
 THE SOLDIER BIRD * 
 
 II. II. BKOW>^EI.L. 
 
 IN the spring of 1881, Chief Sky, a Chippewa Indian, 
 living in the northern wilds of Wisconsin, found an 
 eagle's nest. To make sure of his prize he cut the tree 
 down, and caught the eaglets as they were sliding from the 
 
 ■^•' Col. J. W. Jefferson, who led the valiant Eighth Wisconsin Regiment 
 in the Red River expedition, has given a similar account of this wonder/ul 
 Bird ; thus corroborating the truthfulness of this narrative. 
 
70 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 nest to run and hide in the grass. One died. He carried 
 the other home, and built a nest in a tree close by his wig- 
 wam. The eaglet was as large as a hen, and covered with 
 soft down. The red children were delighted with their 
 new pet ; and, as soon as he became acquainted, he would sit 
 down in the grass, and see them play with the dogs. 
 
 2. But Chief Sky was poor, and he was obliged to 
 soil the noble bird to a white man for a bushel of corn. 
 The white man brought him to Eau Claire,* a small vil- 
 lage, where the enlisted soldiers were busy in preparing to 
 go to the war. " Here 's a recruit," said the man. "An 
 EAGLE ! AN EAGLE ! " shoutcd the soldicrs : " Let him 
 ENLIST ! " and sure enough, he was sw^orn into the service, 
 with ribbons around his neck, — red, white, and blue. 
 
 3. On a perch surmounted by stars and stripes, the 
 company took him to Madison, the Capital of the State. 
 As they marched into Camp Randall, with colors flying, 
 drums beating, and the people cheering, the eagle seized 
 the flag in his beak, and spread his wings, his bright eye 
 kindling with the spirit of the scene. Shouts rent the 
 air: — "The Bird of Columbia! the Eagle of Free- 
 dom FOREVER ! " 
 
 4. The State made him a new perch, and the boys 
 named him " Old Abe ;" and the Eighth^ Wisconsin Regi- 
 ment was henceforth called, " The Eagle Regiment." On 
 the march he was carried at the head of the company, and 
 everywhere was greeted with delight. At St. Louis, a 
 gentleman offered five hundred dollars for him, and anoth- 
 er his farm. No, no ; the boys had no notion of parting 
 with their bird. He w^as above all price, — an emblem of 
 battle and of victory. Besides, he interested their minds, 
 and made them think less of hardships and of home. 
 
 * Pronounced Claire. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 71 
 
 5. It was really amusing to witness the strange freaks 
 and droll adventures of this bird during his three years' 
 service, — his flights in the air, his fights with the guinea- 
 hens, and his race with the boys. When the regiment was 
 in summer quarters at Clear Creek, the eagle was allowed 
 to run at large, and every morning went to the river, half 
 a mile off, where he splashed and played in the water to 
 his heart's content, faithfully returning to camp when he 
 was satisfied. 
 
 6. Old Abe's favorite place of resort was the sutler's 
 tent, where a live chicken found " no quarter " in his pres- 
 ence. But rations became scarce, and, for two days, Abe 
 had nothing to eat. Hard-tack he objected to ; fasting 
 was disagreeable ; and Thomas, his bearer, could not get 
 beyond the pickets to a farm-yard. At last, pushing his 
 way to the colonel's tent, he pleaded for poor Abe. The 
 colonel gave him a pass, and Thomas procured for him an 
 excellent dinner. 
 
 7. One day a farmer asked Thomas to come and show 
 the' eagle to his children. Satisfying the curiosity of the 
 family, Thomas set him down in the barn-yard. Oh, 
 what a screeching and scatterino; amon^r the fowls ! for 
 Abe pounced upon one, and gobbled up another, to the 
 great amazement of the farmer, who declared that such 
 wanton behavior was not in the bargain. Abe, however, 
 thought there was no harm in " confiscating " in time of 
 war. 
 
 8. Abe was in twenty battles, besides thirty skirmishes. 
 He was at the siege of Vicksburg, the storming of Corinth, 
 and marched with Sherman up the Red River. The whiz 
 of bullets and the scream of shells were his delicrht. As 
 the battle grew hotter and hotter, he would flap his wings, 
 and mingle his wildest notes with the thundering din 
 
72 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 around him. He was very fond of music, especially Yan- 
 kee Doodle and John Brown. Upon parade he always 
 gave heed to the word, " Attention ! " With his eye on 
 the commander, he would listen and obey orders, noting 
 time accurately. After parade he would put off his sol- 
 dierly air, flap his wings, and make himself at home. 
 
 9. The enemy called him " Yankee Buzzard," " Old 
 Owl," and other hard names ; but his eagle nature was 
 quite above noticing it. One General gave orders to his 
 men to be sure and capture the eagle of the Eighth Wis- 
 consin ; saying, he " would rather have him than a dozen 
 battle-flags." But for all that, he scarcely lost a feather, — 
 only one from his right wing. At last the w^ar was over, 
 and the brave Wisconsin Eighth, with their live eagle and 
 torn and riddled flags, were welcomed back to Madison. 
 They went out a thousand strong, and returned a little 
 band, scarred and toil-worn, having fought and won. 
 
 10. And what of the Soldier Bird ? In the name of 
 the gallant veterans, Captain Wolf presented him to the 
 State. Governor Lewis accepted the illustrious gift, and 
 ample quarters are provided for him in the beautiful State^ 
 house grounds, where may he long live to tell us 
 
 ** What heroes from the woodland sprang, 
 When, through the fresh awakened land, 
 The thrilling cry of Freedom rang." 
 
 11. Nor is the end yet. At the great fair in Chicago, 
 an enterprising gentleman invited "Abe" to attend. He 
 had colored photographs of the old hero struck ofi^, and 
 sold sixteen thousand seven hundred dollars' worth for the 
 benefit of poor and sick soldiers. Has not the American 
 Eagle done his part' ? May not the Venerable Veteran 
 rest upon his honors' ? 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 73 
 
 12. ^' 'Tis many a stormy day 
 
 Since, out of the cold, bleak North, 
 Our great war Eagle sailed forth 
 To swoop o'er battle and fray. 
 Many and many a day. 
 
 O'er charge and storm hath he wheeled,— 
 Foray and fough ten-field, — 
 
 Tramp, and volley, and rattle ! — 
 Over crimson trench and turf, 
 Over climbing clouds of surf, 
 Through tempest and cannon-rack, 
 Have his terrible pinions whirled ; — 
 (A thousand fields of battle ! 
 A million leagues of foam !) 
 But our Bird shall yet come back, 
 
 He shall soar to his aerie-home, — 
 And his thunderous wings be furled, 
 In the gaze of a gladdened world, 
 On the Nation's loftiest dome ! " 
 
 LESSON XT. 
 
 ^ Doub' le-quick, the fastest time or step, in marching, next to the run, 
 
 requiring one hundred and sixty-five steps, each thirty-three inches in 
 
 length, to be taken in one minute. 
 2 Aid'- DE-CAMP, {did'-de-kdng,) an officer selected by a general officer to 
 
 assist him in his military duties. 
 2 Met a mor' pho sis, (meta, over ; morphosis, Jbrminff,) a forming over: 
 
 change; transformation. 
 
 THE BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 NO person who was not upon the ground, and an eye* 
 witness of the stirring scenes which there transpired, 
 can comprehend, from a description, the terrible realities of 
 a battle ; and even those who participated are competent 
 4 
 
74 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 to speak only of their own personal experience. Where 
 friends and foes are falling by scores, and every species 
 of missile is flying through the air, threatening each in- 
 stant to send one or more into eternity, little time is af- 
 forded for more observation or reflection than is required 
 for personal safety. 
 
 2. The scene is one of the most exciting and exhilarating 
 that can be conceived. Imagine a regiment passing you 
 at " double-quick," ^ the men cheering with enthusiasm, 
 their teeth set, their eyes flashing,, and the whole in a 
 frenzy of resolution. You accompany them to the field. 
 They halt. An Aid-de-camp ^ passes to or from the com- 
 mandinor General. The clear voices of the officers ring 
 along the line in tones of passionate eloquence ; their 
 words burning, thrilling, and elastic. The word is given 
 to march, and the body moves into action. 
 
 3. For the first time in your life, you listen to the whiz- 
 zing of iron. Grape and canister fly into the ranks, bomb- 
 shells burst overhead, and the fragments fly around you. 
 A friend falls ; perhaps a dozen or twenty of your com- 
 rades lie wounded or dying at your feet ; a strange, invol- 
 untary shrinking steals over you, which it is impossible to 
 resist. You feel inclined neither to advance nor recede, 
 but are spell-bound by the contending emotions of the 
 moral and physical man. The cheek blanches, the lips 
 quiver, and the eye almost hesitates to look upon the 
 appalling scene. 
 
 4. In this attitude you may, perhaps, be ordered to stand 
 an hour inactive ; havoc, meanwhile, marking its footsteps 
 with blood on every side. Finally the order is given to 
 advance, to fire, or to charge. And now, what a meta- 
 morphosis ! ^ With your first shot, you become a new 
 man. Personal safety is your least concern. Fear has 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 75 
 
 no existence in your bosom. Hesitation gives way to an 
 uncontrollable desire to rush into the thickest of the fight, 
 and to vie with others in deeds of daring. 
 
 5. The dead and dying around you, if they, receive a 
 passing thought, only serve to stimulate you to revenge. 
 You become cool and deliberate, and watch the effect of 
 the bullets, the shower of bursting shells, the passage 
 of cannon-balls, as they rake their murderous channels 
 through your ranks, the plunging of wounded. horses, the 
 agonies of the dying, and the clash of contending arms 
 which follows the dashing charge, with a feeling so cal- 
 loused by surrounding circumstances, that your soul seems 
 dead to every sympathizing and selfish thought. Such 
 is the spirit which carries the soldier through the exciting 
 scenes of the battle-field. 
 
 6. But when the excitement has passed, when the roll 
 of musketry has ceased, the thunderings of the cannons 
 are stilled, the dusky pall of sulphureous smoke has risen 
 from the field, and you stroll over the theater of carnage, 
 hearing the groans of the wounded, discovering here, shat- 
 tered almost beyond recognition, the form of some dear 
 friend whom, only an hour before, you met in the full flush 
 of life and happiness, there another perforated by a bullet, 
 a third with a limb shot away, a fourth with his face dis- 
 figured, a fifth almost torn to fragments, a sixth a headless 
 corpse, the ground plowed up and stained with blood, hu- 
 man brains splashed around, limbs without bodies, and 
 bodies without limbs, scattered here and there, and the 
 same picture duplicated scores of times, — then you begin 
 to realize the horrors of war, and experience a reaction of 
 nature. 
 
 7. The heart opens its flood-gates, humanity asr^erts her- 
 self again, and you begin to feel. Friend and foe alike 
 
76 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 now receive your kindest ministering s. The enemy, whom, 
 but a short time before, full of hate, you were doing all in 
 your power to kill, you now endeavor to save. You sup- 
 ply him with water to quench his thirst, with food to sus- 
 tain his strength, and with sympathizing Avords to soothe 
 his troubled mind. All that is humane or charitable in 
 your nature now rises to the surface, and you are ani- 
 mated by that spirit of mercy " which blesseth him that 
 gives, and him that takes." A battle-field is eminently a 
 place that tries men's souls. 
 
 LESSON XII. 
 
 * Tour' na ment, {tur' na ment.) A mock-fight or military sport, in which 
 
 a number of combatants are engaged, for an exhibition of their address 
 and bravery. 
 
 * Guer' DON, {ge/ don,) reward; recompense; requital. 
 
 'Bas'tion, {hasC yun,) a part of the main inclosure of a fortress, which 
 projects toward the exterior, consisting oi faces and Jianks. 
 
 SONG OF THE CANNON-BALL. 
 
 I COME from the ether, cleft hotly aside, 
 Through the air of the soft summer morning ; 
 I come with a song as I dash on my way, — 
 
 Both a dirge and a message of warning: 
 No sweet, idle dreams, nor romance of love, 
 
 Nor Poet's soft balm-breathing story 
 Of armor-clad knight, at tournament * gay, 
 Where a scarf was the guerdon ^ of glory ; — 
 Whistling so airily 
 Past the ear warily, 
 Watching me narrowly. 
 Crashing I come ! 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 77 
 
 2. Swift-hurled from the bastion,^ 'mid vohimes of smoke, 
 
 I dash a grim messenger flying ; 
 Before me the livincr — behind me — alas ! 
 (^Z.) There are wounded men gasping and dying. 
 I carry dispatches, written in blood, 
 
 With a death-wound I seal and deliver. 
 Is it strange that a destiny fearful as this 
 
 Makes the song of the cannon-ball quiver' ? — 
 Whistling so wearily, 
 Sighing so airily, 
 Hymning* so dreamily 
 A dirge f 07^ the dead! 
 
 3. I swerve from the track, when the stout ashen lance 
 
 Is crowned with the banner of glory ; 
 I kiss the bright folds as I dash on my way, 
 While the flag to the wind tells the story. 
 Evermore 'tis my errand to knock at the door, 
 
 Where life keeps its watch o'er the portal ; 
 I batter the clay, — but the tenant within 
 Deserts to the army immortal : 
 
 None ever flying there, 
 Nevermore sio-hino; there. 
 Nevermore dying there, — 
 Yonder — in Heaven! 
 
 4. I turn me aside from the young soldier lad. 
 
 Where the angels their bright robes fold o'er him ; 
 I see their bright wings as they ward me aside, — 
 
 'Tis the prayer of the faithful who love him. 
 Close, close to his temples, I brush the bright locks, 
 
 He laughs at my song, never guessing 
 
 ' * Pronounced hymfning with he n sounded. 
 
78 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 How liis mother, bent low at the foot of the cross, 
 Brings down for him safety and blessing: 
 Yielding him tearfully, 
 Watching so fearfully, 
 Trusting yet cheerfully, — 
 God keep her hoy ! 
 
 5. How I laugh when the oak to his ruo-cred old breast 
 Takes me home with a sigh and a quiver ; 
 Or, splashing, I sink in the welcoming wave 
 
 Closing ov^er me, for aye and forever. 
 Nay — better than this — when I've written my name 
 
 On the walls of the fortress all over, 
 I'll rest me at last, when around me shall grow 
 Green grass, starry daisies, and clover ; — 
 Sweet in the summer air. 
 Waving their blossoms fair, 
 Cover the minstrel there ^ 
 Silent forever ! 
 
 LESSON XIII. 
 THE CHILDREN OF THE BATTLE-FIELD. 
 
 JAMES G. CLARK. 
 
 The followinj? touching stanzas received the prize offered by the Philadel- 
 phia Christian Commission for a poem on the death of Sergeant Humiston, 
 of Portville, N.Y., who was found dead at Gettysburg several days after the 
 battle, with his eyes fixed upon the ambrotype of his three children. 
 
 1. TTPON the field of Gettysburg 
 U The summer sun was high. 
 When Freedom met her haughty foe, 
 Beneath a Northern sky ; 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 79 
 
 Among the heroes of the North, 
 
 Who swelled her grand array, 
 And rushed, Hke mountain eagles forth, 
 
 From happy homes away, 
 There stood a man of humble name, 
 
 A sire of children three. 
 And gazed within a little frame, 
 
 Their pictured forms to see ; 
 And blame him not, if in the strife 
 
 He breathed a soldier's prayer : — 
 " Oh^ Father ! guard the soldier'' 8 wife^ 
 
 And for his children care / " 
 
 2. Upon the field of Gettysburg 
 
 When morning shone again. 
 The crimson cloud of battle burst 
 
 In streams of fiery rain ; 
 Our legions quelled the awful flood 
 
 Of shot, and steel, and shell. 
 While banners, marked with ball and blood. 
 
 Around them rose and fell ; 
 And none more nobly won the name 
 . Of Champion for the Free 
 Than he who pressed the little frame 
 
 That held his children three ; 
 And none \yqvq braver in the strife 
 
 Tlian he who breathed the prayer : — 
 " 07i, Father ! guard the soldier's wife, 
 
 And for his children care / " 
 
 8. Upon the field of Gettysburg 
 The full moon slowly rose ; 
 She looked and saw ten thousand brows 
 All pale in death's repose ; 
 
80 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And, down beside a silver stream, 
 
 From other forms away, 
 Calm as a warrior in a dream 
 
 Our fallen comrade lay ; 
 (o) His limbs were cold, his sightless eyes 
 
 Were fixed upon the three ; 
 Sweet stars that rose in memory's skies 
 
 To light him o'er death's sea. 
 Then honored be the soldier's life, 
 
 And hallowed be his prayer : — 
 " Ohj Father ! guard the soldier's wife^ 
 
 And for his children care ! " 
 
 LESSON XI Y. 
 
 THE BRAVE AT HOME. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 THE Maid who binds her warrior's * sash, 
 With a smile that well her grief dissembles, 
 The while beneath her drooping lash 
 
 One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles, 
 Though Heaven alone record the tear, 
 
 And Fame shall never know her story, 
 Her heart doth shed a drop as dear 
 As ever dewed the field of glory. 
 
 The Wife who girds her husband's sword, 
 'Mid little ones who weep and wonder. 
 
 And bravely speaks the cheering word, 
 
 What though her heart be rent asunder, -■—_ 
 
 * Pronounced wo/ 
 
 yur. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 81 
 
 Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear 
 
 Tlie bolts of war around iiini rattle, 
 Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er 
 
 Was poured upon a field of battle. 
 
 3. The Mother who conceals her grief, 
 
 When to her heart her son she presses, 
 Then breathes a few brave words and brief, 
 
 Kissing the patriot brow she blesses. 
 With no one but her secret God 
 
 To know the pain that weighs upon her, 
 Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod 
 
 Received on Freedom's field of honor. 
 
 LESSOlSr XV. ' 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S REPRIEVE. 
 
 N. Y. OBSICllVEU. 
 
 « T THOUGHT, Mr. Allan, when I gave my Bennie to 
 J. liis country, that not a father in all this broad land 
 made so precious a gift, — no, not one. The dear boy 
 only slept a minute, just one little minute^ at his post : I 
 knoiv that was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty. 
 How prompt and reliable he was ! I hioio he only fell 
 asleep one little second; — he was so young^ and not 
 strong, that boy of mine ! Why, he was af^ tall as I, and 
 only eighteen ! and now they shoot him because he wag 
 found asleep Avhen doing sentinel duty ! Twenty-four 
 liours, the telegram said, — only twenty-four hours. 
 Where is Bennie nowf'' 
 
 2. " We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr. 
 Allan, soothingly. 
 6 
 
82 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 " Yes, yes ; let us hope : God is very merciful ! 
 
 " ' I should be ashamed, father ! ' Bennie said, ' when I 
 am a man, to think I never used this great right arm,' 
 — and he held it out so proudly before me, — ' for my 
 country, wlien it needed it ! Palsy it rather than keep 
 it at the plow ! ' 
 
 " ' Go, then go, my boy,' I said, ' and God keep you !' 
 God Aas kept him, I think, Mr. Allan!" and the farmer 
 repeated these last words slowly, as if, in spite of his reason, 
 his heart doubted them. 
 
 " Like the apple of his eye, Mr. Owen, doubt it not ! " 
 
 3. Blossom had sat near them listening, with blanched 
 cheek. She had not shed a tear. Her anxiety had been 
 so concealed that no one had noticed it. She had occu- 
 pied herself mechanically in the household cares. Now she 
 answered a gentle tap at the kitchen door, opening it to 
 receive from a neighbor's hand a letter. '' It is from 7im," 
 was all she said. 
 
 It was like a message from the dead ! Mr. Owen took 
 the letter, but could not break the envelope, on account of 
 his trembling; fino;ers, and held it toward Mr. Allan, with 
 the helplessness of a child. 
 
 4. The minister opened it, and read as follows : — 
 
 " Dear Father : — When this reaches you, I shall be in 
 eternity. At first, it seemed awful to me ; but I have 
 thought about it so much now, that it has no tei-ror. They 
 say they will not bind me, nor blind me ; but that I may 
 meet my death like a man. I thought, fluhcr, it might 
 have been on the battle-field, for my country, and that, 
 when I fell, it would be fighting gloriously ; but to be shot 
 down like a dog for nearly betraying it, — to die for neglect 
 of duty ! 0, father, I wonder the very thought does not 
 kill me ! But I shall not disgrace yoa I am goiny* to 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 83 
 
 write you all about it ; and when I am gone, you may tell 
 my comrades. I can not now. 
 
 5. " You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother, I 
 would look after her boy ; and, when he fell sick, I did all I 
 could for him. He was not strong when he was ordered 
 back into the ranks, and the day before that night, I carried 
 all his luggage, besides my own, on our march. Toward 
 night we went in on double-quick,^ and though the luggage 
 began to feel very heavy, everybody else was tired too ; and 
 as for Jemmie, if I had not lent him an arm now and then, 
 he would have dropped by the way. I was all tired out 
 when we came into camp, and then it was Jemmie's turn to 
 be sentry, and I would take his place ; but I was too tired, 
 father. I could not have kept awake if a gun had been 
 pointed at my head; but I did not know it until — well, 
 until it was too late.''^ 
 
 6. " God be thanked ! " interrupted Mr. Owen, rever- 
 ently. " I knew Bennie was not the boy to sleep carelessly 
 at his post." 
 
 ^' They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve, — 
 given to me by circumstances, — ' time to write to you,' our 
 good Colonel says. Forgive him, father, he only does his 
 duty ; he would gladly save me if he could: and do not lay 
 my death up against Jemmie. The poor boy is broken- 
 hearted, and does nothing but beg and entreat them to let 
 him die in my stead. 
 
 7. " I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Com- 
 fort them, father ! Tell them I die as a brave boy should, 
 and that, when the war is over, they will not be ashamed 
 of me, as they must be now. God help me ; it is very 
 hard to bear ! Good-by, father ! God seems near and dear 
 to me, not at all as if He wished me to perish forever, but 
 as if He felt sorry for his poor, sinful, broken-hearted child. 
 
84 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and would take me to be with Him and my Savior in a 
 better — better life." 
 
 A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. " Amen," 
 he said solemnly, — " Amen." 
 
 " To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all 
 coming home from pasture, and precious little Blossom stand 
 on the back stoop, waiting for me, — but I shall never — 
 never come ! God bless you all 1 Forgive your poor 
 Bennie." 
 
 8. Late that night the door of the " back stoop " opened 
 softly, and a little figure glided out, and down the foot-path 
 that led to the road by the mill. She seemed rather flying 
 than walking, turning her head neither to the right nor the 
 left, looking only now and then to Heaven, and folding her 
 hands, as if in prayer. Two hours later, the same young 
 girl stood at the Mill Depot, w^atching the coming of the 
 night train ; and the conductor, as he reached down to lift 
 her into the car, wondered at the tear-stained face that was 
 upturned toward the dim lantern he held in his hand. A 
 few questions and ready answers told him all ; and no 
 father could have cared more tenderly for his only child, 
 than he for our little Blossom. 
 
 9. She was on her way to Washington, to ask President 
 Lincoln for her brother's life. She had stolen away, leav- 
 ing only a note to tell her father where and why she had 
 gone. She had brought Bennie's letter with her : no good, 
 kind heart, like the President's, could refuse to be melted by 
 it. The next morning they reached New York, and the 
 conductor hurried her on to Washington. Every minute, 
 now, might be the means of saving her brother's life. And 
 so, in an incredibly short time. Blossom reached the Cap- 
 ital, and hastened immediately to the White House. 
 
 10. The President had but just seated himself to his 
 
UNION FIFTH READEK. 85 
 
 morning's task, of overlooking and signing important pa- 
 pers, when, without one word of ainiouncement, tlie door 
 softly opened, and Blossom, with downcast eyes, and folded 
 liands, stood before him. 
 
 " Well, my child," he said in his pleasant, cheerful tones, 
 " what do you want so bright and early in the morning ? " 
 
 '' Bennie's life, please, sir," faltered Blossom. 
 
 " Bennie' ? Who is Bennie ? " 
 
 " My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for 
 sleeping at his post." 
 
 11. " Oh, yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the 
 papers before him. " I remember ! It was a fatal sleep. 
 You see, child, it was at a time of special danger. Thou- 
 sands of lives might have been lost for his culpable negli- 
 gence." 
 
 " So my father said," replied Blossom gravely, " but 
 poor Bennie was so tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He 
 did the work of two, sir, and it was Jemmie' s night, not 
 his; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never thought 
 about himself, that he was tired too." 
 
 " What is this you say', child ? Come here ; I do not 
 understand," and the kind man caught eagerly, as ever, at 
 what seemed to be a justification of an offense. 
 
 12. Blossom went to him : he put his hand tenderly on 
 her shoulder, and turned up the pale, anxious face toward 
 his. How tall he seemed, and he w^as President of the 
 United States too ! A dim thought of this kind passed for 
 a moment through Blossom's mind ; but she told her simple 
 and straightforward story, and handed Mr. Lincoln Ben- 
 nie's letter to read. 
 
 He read it carefully ; then, taking up his pen, wrote a 
 few hasty lines, and rang his bell. 
 
 Blossom heard this order mven : '* Send this dispatch 
 
86 SANDERS' tJNIOK SERIES. 
 
 13. The President then turned to the girl and said, — 
 " Go home, my child, and tell that father of yours, who 
 could approve his country's sentence, even when it took 
 the life of a child like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks 
 the life far too precious to be lost. Go back, or — wait 
 until to-morrow ; Bennie will need a change after he has so 
 bravely faced death ; he shall go with you." 
 
 " God bless you, sir," said Blossom ; and who shall 
 doubt that God heard and registered the request? 
 
 14. Two days after this interview, the young soldier 
 came to the White House with his little sifter. He was 
 called into the President's private room, and a strap fastened 
 "upon the shoulder." Mr. Lincoln then said, — "The 
 soldier that could carry a sick comrade's baggage, and die 
 for the good act so uncomplainingly, deserves "well of his 
 country." Then Bennie and Blossom took their way to 
 their Green Mountain home. A cowd gathered at the 
 Mill Depot to welcome them back ; and, as farmer Owen's 
 hand grasped that of his boy, tears flowed down his 
 cheeks, and he was heard to say fervently, — " The Lord 
 
 BE PRAISED ! " 
 
 Question. — Why the rising inflection on Bennie and say, as marked in 
 the 10th and 11th paragraphs ? See page 29, Note I. under Rule 11. 
 
 LESSON XYI 
 THE LAST RIDE. 
 
 MISS MULOCK. 
 
 " TT'OU mnst let me remain out a good while to-day, I 
 
 X feel so strong ; and, perhaps, I might stay a little 
 
 later, to watch the sunset. I never can see it from my 
 
 room, you know ; which seems rather hard, now the even- 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 87 
 
 ings are so beautiful and spring-like." Philip soothed him 
 as an elder brother might have done, and promised all, 
 provided he felt strong enough. Then he took Leigh in 
 his arms like a child, and carried him down stairs to the 
 gay carriage. 
 
 2. "Now, where shall we go, Leigh?" was the first 
 question proposed, as they drove along High Street. Leigh 
 pleaded for some quiet road : he wanted to go far out in 
 the country, — -to that beautiful lane which runs along by 
 the river side. He had been there once at the beginning 
 of his illness, and had often talked of the place since. It 
 haunted him, he said, with its overhanging trees, and the 
 river view breaking in between them, — its tiny wavelets 
 all sparkling in the sun. He knew it would look just the 
 same this calm, bright May afternoon. So, accordingly, 
 they went thither. 
 
 3. It was one of those spring days when the Earth seems 
 to rest from her joyful labor of budding and blossoming, 
 and to be dreaming of summer. The birds in the trees, 
 the swans in the water, the white clouds in the sky, were 
 alike still ; and upon all things had fallen the spell of a 
 blessed silence — a silence full of happiness, and hope, and 
 love. Happiness, hope, and love, what words, what idle 
 words, they would sound unto the two who were passing 
 slowly under the shadow of the trees ! Oh, Earth ! beauti- 
 ful, cruel mother ! How canst thou smile with a face so fair, 
 when sorrow or death is on thy children ! But the Earth 
 answers softly : — "I smile with a calm and changeless 
 smile to tell my frail children that if in me^ made but for 
 their use, is such ever-renewed life and joy, shall it not be 
 so with them! ? And even while they gaze upon me, I 
 pour into their hearts my deep peace ! " 
 
 4. It was so Avith Philip and Leigh. They sat silent, 
 
88 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 hand in hand, and looked on this beautiful scene : from 
 both the bitterness passed away — the bitterness of life, 
 and that of death. Which was the greater ? On the 
 bridge, Leigh spoke. He begged tliat the carriage might 
 rest a moment, to let him look at the sunset, which was 
 very lovely. He half lifted himself up, and the large, 
 brown eyes seemed drinking in all the beauty that was in 
 land, river, and sky : they rested longest there. Then they 
 turned to meet Philip's : that mute gaze between the two 
 was full of solemn meaning. "Are you content?" wliis- 
 pered Philip. " Yes, quite : now let us go home." 
 
 5. Leigh's eyes closed, and his voice grew faint. " You 
 seem tired," said tlie other anxiously. " Yes, a little. 
 Take me home soon, will you, Philip ? " His head 
 drooped on the young man's shoulder heavily — so heav- 
 ily that Pliihp signed to the coachman to drive on at his 
 utmost speed. Then he put his arm around the boy, who 
 lay with closed eyes, his white cheek looking gray and 
 sunken in the purple evening light. Once Philip spoke, 
 almost trembling lest no answer should come. "Are you 
 quite easy, dear Leigh ? " The eyes opened, and the lips 
 parted with a faint smile. " Yes, thank you ; only weary : 
 I can hardly keep awake ; but I must till I have seen my 
 mother." 
 
 6. And still the dying head sank heavier on Philip's 
 shoulder, and the hands, which he drew in his to warm 
 them, were already growing damp and rigid. He sat with 
 this solemn burden in his arms, and the carriage drove 
 homeward until they entered the square. The mother 
 stood at the door ! " Take her away, only one minute," 
 whispered Philip to the servant ; but she had sprung 
 already to the carriage. " Leigh ! how is my darling 
 Leigh?" Her voice seemed to pierce even through the 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 80 
 
 shadows of another world, and to reach the dying boy. He 
 opened his eyes, and smiled tenderly upon lier. " Leigh 
 is tired — almost asleep. Take the cushion, and I will 
 carry him in," said Philip hastily to the mother. She 
 obeyed without a word ; but her face grew deadly white, 
 and her hands trembled. 
 
 7. When the boy was placed, as he seemed to wish, in 
 liis mother's arm-chair, she came and knelt before him, 
 lookinor into his face. There was a shadow there. She 
 saw it, and felt that the time was come when not even the 
 mother could stand between her child and death. Philip 
 thought she would have shrieked, or fainted ; but she did 
 neither. She only gazed into the dim eyes with a wild, 
 earnest, almost beseeching gaze. " Mother, will you let 
 me go ?" murmured Leigh. She drew a long sigh, as if 
 repressing an agony so terrible that the struggle was like 
 that of a soul parting; and then said, — " Yes, my dar- 
 ling ! " 
 
 8. He smiled, — Avhat a heaven is there in the happy 
 smile of the dying! — and suffered her fond ministering 
 hands — unwilling even yet to give up their long tend- 
 ance — to unfasten the cloak, and put the wine to his lips. 
 Then she sat down beside him, laid his head on her bosom, 
 and awaited — oh, mighty strength of a mother's love ! — 
 awaited, tearless and calm, the passing away of the life 
 which she had given. "He is quite content — quite 
 happy — he told me so," Philip whispered in her ear, with 
 his soft comforting voice. She turned round one moment 
 with a startled air: — " Yes, yes, I know, (jt?.) Hush ! " 
 and she bent down again over her child, whose faint lips 
 seemed trying to frame, scarcely louder than a sigh, the 
 last word, — " Mother ! " 
 
 9. Then there fell over the twilight-shadowed room a 
 
90 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 solemn silence, long and deep, in the midst of which the 
 spirit passed. They only knew that it was so, when, as 
 the moon rose, the pale, spiritual light fell on the calm face 
 of the dead boy, still pillow^ed on the mother's breast. 
 She turned and looked upon it without a tear, or a moan, 
 so beautiful, so heavenly w^as it! At that moment, had 
 they put to her the question of old, — "Is it well with 
 the child ? " * she would have answered like the Shunam* 
 ite, — "It is well!" 
 
 LESSON XYIL 
 
 * Su per'nal, {stjteu, above;) relating to things above; celestial; heavenly 
 PASSING TO THE SUPERNAL.* 
 
 SAT. EVE. POST. 
 
 !• T AM drifting, slowly drifting, 
 
 JL With the changing waves of time ; 
 Every scene around me shifting, 
 
 And each moment more sublime. 
 As I near the great eternal, 
 Passing on to the supernal, 
 Through the grave. 
 
 2. On each shore are hidden treasures, 
 'Neath, the waves rare jewels play ; 
 Time bears on in rapid measures ; 
 I, to seek them, may not stay ; 
 For my home is the eternal. 
 And I pass to the supernal, 
 Through the grave. 
 
 * 2 Kings, 4lli chap., 26th verse. 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEK. 91 
 
 Sometimes on the foamy billow, 
 
 Sometimes in the sinking sand, 
 Weary head can find no pillow, 
 
 Weary feet can find no land ; 
 But I 'm nearer the eternal, 
 Passing on to the supernal, 
 Through the grave. 
 
 Dark the clouds that float above me, 
 Fierce the winds that round me play ; 
 
 Changing waves that ever move me. 
 Drifting — here I may not stay ; 
 
 For I see the great eternal, 
 
 And I press to the supernal, 
 Through the grave. 
 
 Darker still the skies that cover. 
 
 Icy chill the waters now ; 
 Angel wings above me hover, 
 
 Angels smooth the death-pale brow. 
 Lo ! I enter the eternal. 
 And I pass to joys supernal, 
 Through the grave ! 
 
 LESSON XVIII. 
 
 SUNSHINE AND SHOWERS. 
 
 1. rpWO children stood at their father's gate, 
 JL Two girls with golden hair ; 
 And their eyes were bright, and their voices glad, 
 Because the morn was fair. 
 
92 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 For they said, — " We will take that long, long walk 
 
 In the hawthorn copse to-day ; 
 And gather great bunches of lovely flowers 
 . From off the scented May ; 
 
 And oh ! we shall be so happy there 
 
 'Twill be sorrow to come away I" 
 
 2. As the children spoke, a little cloud 
 
 Passed slowly across the sky ; 
 And one looked up in her sister's face 
 
 With a tear-drop in her eye. 
 But the other said, — " Oh ! heed it not ; 
 
 'Tis far too fair to ram ; 
 That little cloud may search the sky 
 
 For other clouds, in vain." 
 And soon the children's voices rose 
 
 In merriment again. 
 
 3. But ere the mcrning hours waned. 
 
 The sky had changed its hue. 
 And that one cloud had chased away 
 
 The whole great heaven of blue. 
 The rain fell down in heavy drops, 
 
 The wind began to blow. 
 And the children, in their nice warm room. 
 
 Went fretting to and fro ; 
 For they said, — " When we have aught in store, 
 
 It always happens so ! " 
 
 4. Now these two fair-haired sisters 
 
 Had a brother out at sea ; 
 A little midshipman, aboard 
 The gallant "- Victory." 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 93 
 
 And on that self-same morning, 
 
 When they stood beside the gate, 
 His ship was wrecked ! and on a raft 
 
 He stood all desolate, 
 With the other sailors round him, 
 
 Prepared to meet their fate. 
 
 5. Beyond they saw the cool, green land, — 
 
 The land with her waving trees. 
 And her little brooks, that rise and fall 
 
 Like butterflies in the breeze. 
 But above, the burning noontide sun 
 
 With scorching stillness shone ; 
 Their throats were parched with bitter thirst, 
 
 And they knelt down, one by one, 
 And prayed to God for a drop of rain, 
 
 And a gale to waft them on. 
 
 6. And then that little cloud was sent, — 
 
 That shower in mercy given ! 
 And, as a bird before the breeze. 
 
 Their bark was laiidward driven. 
 And some few mornings after. 
 
 When the children met once more, 
 And their brother told the story. 
 
 They knew it was the hour 
 When they had wished for sunshine^ 
 
 And God had sent the shower. 
 
94 SANDEBS' UNION SEBIES. 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 
 ^ Ba' con, Francis, usually known as Lord Bacon, was bom in London, 
 England, Jan. 22, 1560, and died 1626. He was famous as a scholar, 
 a wit, a lawyer, a judge, a statesman, a politician, but chiefly as a 
 philosopher. 
 New'' ton. Sir Isaac, the greatest of English philosophers, was born in 
 Lincolnshire, Dec. 25, 1642, and died March 20, 1727. His three great 
 discoveries, of fluxions, the nature of light and colors, and the law of 
 gravitation, were conceived before he was twenty-five years of age. On 
 witnessing the fall of an apple, he was led into a train of reflection, 
 which resulted in his theory of gravitation. He was a profound mathe- 
 matician, and a sincere Christian. Certain prophecies in the Bible 
 led him to infer that men would, one day, be able to travel at the 
 rate of Jijly miles an hour. How marvelously has his belief been 
 verified ! 
 
 EDUCATION, OUR OWN WORK. 
 
 JOHN TODD. 
 
 THE human mind is the brightest display of the power 
 and skill of the Infinite Mind with which we are 
 acquainted. It is created and placed in this world to be 
 educated for a hicrher state of existence. Here its faculties 
 begin to unfold, and those mighty energies, which are to 
 bear it forward to unendino; ao-es, bemn to discover them- 
 selves. The object of training such a mind should be, to 
 enable the soul to fulfill her duties well here, and to stand 
 on high vantage-ground, when she leaves this cradle of her 
 being, for an eternal existence beyond the grave. 
 
 2. Most students need encouragement to sustain, in- 
 struction to aid, and direction to guide them. Few, 
 probably, ever accomplish any thing like as much as they 
 expected or ought ; and perhaps one reason is, that they 
 waste a vast amount of time in acquiring that experience 
 which they need. Doubtless, multitudes are now in the 
 process of education, who will never reach any tolerable 
 
TJNION FIFTH HEADER. 95 
 
 standard of excellence.. Probably some never could ; but, 
 in most cases, they might. The exceptions are few. In 
 most cases young men do feel a desire, more or less strong, 
 of fitting themselves for respectability and usefulness. 
 
 3. You may converse with any man, however distin- 
 guished for attainments, or habits of application, or power 
 of using what he knows, and he will sigh over the re- 
 membrance of the past, and tell you that there have 
 been many fragments of time which he has wasted, and 
 many opportunities which he has lost forever. If he had 
 only seized upon the fleeting advantages, and gathered 
 up the fragments of time, he might have pushed his re- 
 searches out into new fields, and, like the immortal 
 Bacon,^ have amassed vast stores of knowledge. The 
 mighty minds which "have gone before us have left 
 treasures for our inheritance ; and the choicest gold is 
 to be had for the digging. 
 
 4. The object of hard study is not to draw out genius, 
 but to take minds such as are formed of common mold, 
 and fit them for active and decisive usefulness. Nothing 
 is so much coveted by a young man as the reputation of 
 being a genius ; and many seem to feel that the want of 
 patience for laborious apphcation and deep research is 
 such a mark of genius as can not be mistaken : while a 
 real genius, like Sir Isaac Newton,^ w^ith great modesty 
 says, that the great and only difference between his mind 
 and the minds of others consisted solely in his having 
 more patience. 
 
 5. You may have a good mind, a sound judgment, a 
 vivid imagination, or a wide reach of thought and views ; 
 but you can never become distinguished Avithout severe 
 application. Hence, all that you ever have must be the 
 result of labor, — hard, untiring labor. You have friends 
 
96 SANDEBS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 to cheer you on, and you have books and teachers to aid 
 you ; but, after all, disciplining and educating your mind 
 must be your own work. No one can do this but yourself. 
 And nothing in this world is of any worth which has not 
 labor and toil as its price. 
 
 6. The first and great object of education is, to discipline 
 the mind, ^- to fit it for future acquisition and usefulness. 
 Make it the first object to be able to fix and hold your 
 attention upon your studies. He who can do this, has 
 mastered many and great difficulties ; and he who can not 
 do it, will in vain look for success in any department of 
 study. To effect any j)urpose in study, the mind must be 
 concentrated. If any other object plays on the fancy than 
 that which ought to be exclusively before it, the mind is 
 divided, and both are neutralized, so as to lose their 
 effect. 
 
 7. Patience is a virtue kindred to attention ; and with- 
 out it, the mind can not be said to be disciplined. Patient 
 labor and investigation are not only essential to success in 
 study, but are an unfailing guarantee to success. The stu- 
 dent should learn to think and act for himself. True origi- 
 nality consists in doing things well, and doing them in our 
 own way. A mind, half-educated, is generally imitating 
 others. No man was ever great by imitation. Let it be 
 remembered that we can not copy greatness or goodness 
 by any effort. We must acquire them, if ever attained, 
 by our own patience and diligence. 
 
 8. Students are in danger of neglecting the memory. It 
 is too valuable to be neglected; for, by it, wonders are 
 sometimes accomplished. He who has a memory that can 
 seize with an iron grasp, and retain what he reads, — the 
 ideas, simply, without the language, — and judgment to 
 compare and balance, will scarcely fail of being distin- 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 97 
 
 guislied. Wliy has that mass of thought, observation, and 
 experience, which is embodied in books by the multitude 
 of minds which have gone before us, been gathered, if not 
 that we may use it, and stand on high ground, and push 
 our Avay still farther into the boundaries and regions of 
 knowledoje ? 
 
 9. Let every student reflect, that this is the time to 
 form habits, and to begin a course of mental discipline, 
 which, in a few years, will raise him high in the esteem 
 and the honors of his fellow-men. Every distinguished 
 man has traveled the same path. There is no other road 
 to knowledge, to improvement, to distinction. This very 
 discipline is the only thing that can bring the mind under 
 proper subjection. 
 
 LESSOISr XX. 
 
 SELF-CULTURE. 
 
 CHANNING. 
 
 SELF-CULTURE is something possible. It is not a 
 dream. It has foundations in our nature. Without 
 this conviction, the speaker will but declaim, and the hearer 
 listen, without profit. There are two powers of the human 
 soul which make self-culture possible, — the self -searching 
 and the self-forming power. We have first the faculty of 
 turning the mind on itself; of recalHng its past and watch- 
 ing its present operations ; of learning its various capacities 
 and susceptibilities, — what it can do and bear, what it can 
 enjoy and suffer ; and of thus learning in general what our 
 nature is, and what it is made for. 
 
 2. It is worthy of observation, that we are able to discern 
 not only what we already are, but what we may become ; 
 5 
 
98 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 to see in ourselves germs and promises of a growth to 
 which no bounds can be set ; and that, by using the powers 
 which God has given us, we can dart beyond what we have 
 actually gained. But self-culture is possible, not only be- 
 cause we can enter into and search ourselves, but because 
 we have a still nobler power ^ that of acting on, determining, 
 and formino; ourselves. This is a fearful as well as glorious 
 endowment ; for it is the ground of human responsibility. 
 We have the power not only of tracing our powers, but of 
 guiding and impeUing them ; not only of watching our pas- 
 sions, but of controlhng them ; not only of seeing our facul- 
 ties grow, but of applying to them means and influences 
 to aid their growth. 
 
 3. We can stay or change the current of thought. We 
 can concentrate the intellect on objects which we wdsh to 
 comprehend. We can flx our eyes on perfection, and make 
 almost every thing speed us toward it. Of all the discov- 
 eries which men need to make, the most important, at the 
 present moment, is that of the self-forming power treasured 
 up in themselves. They little suspect its extent, — as little 
 as the savage apprehends the energy which the mind is 
 created to exert on the material world. It transcends in 
 importance all our power over outward nature. There 
 is more divinity in it than in the force which impels 
 the outward universe ; and yet how little we compre- 
 hend it ! How it slumbers in most men unsuspected, 
 unused ! This makes self-culture possible, and binds it 
 on us as a solemn duty. 
 
 4. To cultivate any thing — be it a plant, an animal, or 
 a mind — is to make it grow. Growth, expansion, is the 
 end. Nothing admits culture but that which has a prin- 
 ciple of life capable of being expanded. He, therefore, 
 who does what he can to unfold all his powers and 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 99 
 
 capacities, especially his nobler ones, so as to become a 
 well-proportioned, vigorous, excellent, liappy being, prac- 
 tices self-culture. 
 
 5. Self-culture is moral. When a man looks into him- 
 self, he discovers two distinct orders or kinds of principles, 
 which it behooves him especially to comprehend. He dis- 
 covers desires, appetites, passions, which terminate in Mm-- 
 self : which crave and seek his own interest, gratification, 
 distinction ; and he discovers another principle, in opposition 
 to these, which is impartial, disin^terested, universal, — en- 
 joining on him a regard to the rights and happiness of 
 other beings^ and laying on him obligations which must be 
 discharged, cost what they may, or however they may clash 
 with his particular pleasure or gain. 
 
 6. No man, however narrowed to his own interest, how- 
 ever hardened by selfishness, can deny that there springs 
 up within him a great idea, in opposition to interest, — the 
 idea of duty ; that an inward voice calls him, more or less 
 distinctly, to revere and exercise impartial justice and uni- 
 versal good will. This disin^terested principle in human 
 nature we call sometimes reason^ sometimes conscience^ 
 sometimes the moral sense or faculty. 
 
 7. But, be its name what it may, it is a real principle in 
 each of us, and it is the supreme power within us, to be 
 cultivated above all others ; for on its culture the rio;ht 
 development of all others depends. The passions, indeed, 
 may be stronger than the conscience, — may lift up a 
 louder voice ; but their clamor differs wholly from the tone 
 of command in which the conscience speaks. They are 
 not clothed with its authority, its binding power. In their 
 very triumphs they are rebuked by the moral principle, and 
 often cower before its still, deep, menacing voice. 
 
 8. No part of self-knowledge is more important than to 
 
100 SAiJDERS' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 discern clearly these two great principles, — the self-seeking 
 and the disiii'terested ; and the most important part of self- 
 cultm-e is to depress the former and to exalt the latter, or to 
 enthrone the sense of duty within us. There are no limits 
 to the growth of this moral force in man, if he will cherish 
 it faithfully. There have been men whom no power in 
 the universe could turn from the right ; to whom death, in 
 its most dreadful forms, has been less dreaded than trans- 
 gression of the inward law of universal justice and love. 
 
 LESSONXXI. 
 
 THE SKATER AND THE WOLVES. 
 
 WHITEHEAD. 
 
 DURING the winter of 1844, being in the northern part 
 of Maine, I had much leisure to devote to the sports 
 of a new country. To none of these was I more passion- 
 ately addicted than to skating. The deep and sequestered 
 lakes, frozen by the intense cold of a northern winter, pre- 
 sent a wide field to the lover of this pastime. Often would 
 I bind on my skates, glide away up the glittering river, 
 and wind each mazy streamlet that flowed, beneath its 
 fetters, on toward the parent ocean, with exultant joy and 
 dolight. Sometimes these excursions were made by moon- 
 light ; and it was on one of these latter occasions that I 
 had a rencounter, which even now I can not recall with- 
 out a thrill of horror. 
 
 2. I had left my friend's house one evening just before 
 dusk, with the intention of skating a short distance up the 
 Kennebec, which glided directly before the door. The 
 night was beautifully clear. The peerless moon rode 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADKll, , , J'jdl 
 
 through an occasional fleecy clou;d, thi^ ;st^s,!i|:M^lr\yed*ih 
 the sky, and every frost-covered tree and shrub sparkled 
 with rare brilhancy. Light also came glinting from ice, 
 and snow-wreath, and incrusted branches, as the eye fol- 
 lowed for miles the broad gleam of the river, that, like 
 a jeweled zone, swept between the mighty forests that 
 bordered its banks. 
 
 3. And yet all was still. The cold seemed to have frozen 
 tree, air, water, and every living thing. Even the ringing 
 of my skates echoed back from the hill with a startling 
 clearness ; and the crackle of the ice, as 1 passed over it 
 in my course, seemed to follow the tide of the river with 
 lightning speed. I had gone up the river nearly two miles, 
 when, coming to a Httle stream which empties into the 
 larger, I turned into it to explore its course. Fir and hem- 
 lock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an 
 archway radiant with frost-work. All was dark within ; 
 but I was young and fearless, and, as I peered into an un- 
 broken forest that reared itself on the borders of the stream, 
 I laughed with very joyousness. 
 
 4. My wild hurrah rang through the silent woods, and I 
 stood listenincr to the echo that reverberated ao-ain and 
 again, until all was hushed. Suddenly a sound arose ! It 
 seemed to me to come from the ice beneath my feet. It 
 was low and tremulous at first ; but it ended in one long 
 wild yell. I was appalled. Never before had such a noise 
 met my ears. Presently I lieard the brushwood on shore 
 crash, as though from the tread of some animal. The blood 
 rushed to my forehead. My energies returned, and I 
 looked around me for some means of escape. The moon 
 shone through the opening, at the mouth of the creek, by 
 which I had entered the forest ; and, considering this the 
 best way of escape, I darted toward it like an arrow. 
 
102 r>ANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 V < '§-.: The ©peiiing was hardly a hundred yards distant, and 
 the swallow could scarcely have excelled me in flight ; 
 yet, as I turned my eyes to the shore, I could see two 
 dark objects dashing through the brushwood, at a pace 
 nearly double in speed to my own. By their great speed, 
 and the short yells which they occasionally gave, I knew 
 at once that these were the much-dreaded gray wolves. I 
 had never met with these ferocious animals ; but, from the 
 description given of them, I had little pleasure in mak- 
 ing their acquaintance. Their untamable fierceness and 
 untiring strength render them objects of dread to every 
 benighted traveler. 
 
 6. The bushes that skirted the shore now seemed to 
 rush past me with the velocity of lightning, as I dashed on 
 in my flight to pass the narrow opening. The outlet was 
 nearly gained ; a few seconds more, and I would be com- 
 paratively safe ; but in a moment my pursuers appeared on 
 the bank above me, which here rose to the hight of ten or 
 twelve feet. There was no time for thought. I bent my 
 head, and dashed wildly forward. The wolves sprang ; 
 but, miscalculating my speed, fell behind, while their in- 
 tended prey glided out upon the river I 
 
 7. I turned toward home. The light flakes of snow 
 spun from the iron of my skates, and I was some distance 
 from my pursuers, when their fierce howl told me I was 
 still their fugitive. I did not look back, nor feel afraid. 
 I thought of home, of the bright faces awaiting my return, 
 and then all the energies of body and mind were exerted 
 for escape. I was perfectly at home on the ice. Many 
 were the days that I had spent on my good skates, never 
 thinking that they would thus prove my only means of 
 safety in such imminent peril. 
 
 8. Every half minute a furious yelp from my fierce at- 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEK. 103 
 
 tendants made me but too certain that they were in close 
 pursuit. Nearer and nearer they came. 1 heard their feet 
 pattering on the ice ; I even felt their very breath, and 
 heard their snuffing scent ! Every nerve and muscle in 
 my frame was stretched to the utmost tension. The trees 
 along the shore seemed to dance in an uncertain light, and 
 my brain turned with my own breathless speed ; yet still 
 my pursuers seemed to hiss forth their breath with a sound 
 truly horrible, when an involuntary motion on my part 
 turned me out of my course. 
 
 9. The wolves, close behind, unable to stop, and as un- 
 able to turn on the smooth ice, slipped and fell, still going 
 on far ahead. Their tongues were lolling out ; their white 
 tusks were gleaming from their bloody mouths ; their dark 
 shaggy breasts were fleeced with foam ; and, as they passed 
 me, their eyes glared, and they howled with friry. The 
 thought flashed on my mind, that, by this means, I could 
 avoid them, — namely, by turning aside whenever they 
 came too near ; for, by the formation of their feet, they are 
 unable to run on ice except in a straight line. 
 
 10. I immediately acted upon this plan. The wolves, 
 having regained their feet, sprang directly toward me. 
 The race was renewed for many yards up the stream: 
 they were already close on my back, when I glided round 
 and dashed directly past them. A fierce yell greeted my 
 evolution, and the wolves, slipping on their haunches, again 
 sailed onward, presenting a perfect picture of helpless- 
 ness and baffled rage. Thus I gained nearly a hundred 
 yards at each turning. This was repeated two or three 
 times, every moment the animals becoming more ex- 
 cited and baffled. 
 
 11. At one time, by delaying my turning too long, my 
 sanguinary antagonists came so near that they threw their 
 
104 SANDEES* UNION SERIES. 
 
 white foam over my dress as they sprang to seize me, and 
 their teeth clashed together Uke the spring of a fox-trap ! 
 Had my skates failed for one instant, — had I tripped on a 
 stick, or had my foot been caught in a fissure of the ice, — 
 the story I am now telling would never have been told. 
 I thought all the chances over. I thought how long it 
 would be before I died, and then of the search for my 
 body ; for oh ! how fast man's mind traces out all the dread 
 colors of death's picture, only those, who have been near 
 the grim original, can tell ! 
 
 12. But I soon came opposite the house, and my hounds 
 — I knew their deep voices — roused by the noise, bayed 
 furiously from their kennels. I heard their chains rattle : 
 how I wished they would break them ! — then I should 
 have had protectors to match the fiercest denizens of the 
 forest. The wolves, taking the hint conveyed by the dogs, 
 stopped in their mad career, and, after a few moments, 
 turned and fled. 1 watched them until their forms disap- 
 peared over a neighboring hill ; then, taking off my skates, 
 I wended my way to the house with feelings which may bo 
 better imagined than described. But even yet, I never 
 see a broad sheet of ice by moonlight without thinking of 
 that snuffing breath and those ferocious objects that followed 
 me so closely down that frozen river. 
 
 LESSON XXII. 
 PURITY OF CHARACTER. 
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 OVER the beauty of the plum and apricot there may be 
 seen a bloom and beauty more exquisite than the fruit 
 itself, — a soft, delicate flush that overspreads its blushing 
 
UNIOK FIFTH llEADEE. 105 
 
 eheek. Now, if you strike your Land over that, and it is 
 once gone, it is gone forever ; for it never grows but once. 
 The flower that hangs in the morning, impearled with dew, 
 arrayed with jewels, — once shake it, so that the beads 
 roll off, and you may sprinkle water over it as you please, 
 
 vet it can never be made acrain what it was when the dew 
 
 »• ~ 
 
 fell lightly upon it from heaven. 
 
 2. On a frosty morning, you may see the panes of 
 glass covered with landscapes, mountains, lakes, and trees, 
 blended in a beautiful, fantastic picture. Now, lay your 
 hand upon the glass, and, by the scratch of your fingers, or 
 by the warmth of the palm, all the delicate tracery will 
 be immediately obliterated. So^ in youths there is a purity 
 of character^ which, when once touched and defiled, can 
 never be restored, — a fringe more delicate than frost- 
 work, and wliich, when torn and broken, will never be 
 re-embroidered. 
 
 3. A man who has spotted and soiled his garments in 
 youth, though he may seek to make them white again, can 
 never wholly do it, even were he to wash them with his 
 tears. When a young man leaves his father's house, with 
 the blessing of his mother's tears still wet upon his fore- 
 head, if he once loses that early purity of character, it is a 
 loss that he can never make whole again. Such is the con- 
 sequence of crime. Its effects can not be eradicated ; they 
 can only be forgiven. 
 
 LESSON XXIII. 
 
 Al'le go rt is a word of Greek origin. It is made up of two parts,— 
 ALL, other ; and egory, discourse ; the literal meaning of the compound 
 being discourse about other things ; that is, things other than those ex- 
 pressed by the words, literally interpreted. Allegory is, therefore, the 
 
106 SANDERS' UKIOK SERIES. 
 
 general name for that class of compositions, as Fables, Apologues, Para' 
 hies, and Myths, in which there is a double meaning, one literal and the 
 Qthiiv figurative ; the literal being designed merely to give a more clear 
 and impressive view of that wliich is figurative. 
 
 *Shak'speare, William, was born in Stratford on the Avon, England, 
 April, 1564; and died 1616. He is accounted, by all, the greatest dra- 
 matic writer of any age. He has been styled the Poet of Nature, the 
 poet who holds up to his readers the mirror of manners and of life. 
 
 •Ho'mer, the great Grecian poet, flourished about nine hundred years b& 
 fore the Christian era. He is supposed to have been a strolling bard> 
 poor and blind. His chief works are the " Iliad " and the " Odvssey." 
 The Iliad is a poem descriptive of the siege of Troy, in Asia Minor ; 
 and the Odyssey describes the wanderings of Ulysses on his return 
 from Troy to his own kingdom in the Island of Ithaca. 
 
 THE THREE SISTERS. 
 
 AN ALLEGORY.! 
 
 'M 
 
 ADAM Virtue and Miss Genius, 
 With their sister, Reputation, 
 Traveled once througli foreign countries, 
 On a tour of observation. 
 
 2. Ere they started, Genius hinted / 
 
 That, by some unlucky blunder, 
 While they journeyed through the kingdoms, 
 They might chance to get asunder ; 
 
 3. ''And," she said, " it seems but prudent. 
 
 Should we break our pleasant tether, 
 Some device should be suggested 
 That may bring us three together. 
 
 4. "As for me^ if, from my sisters, 
 
 I should chance to prove a roamer. 
 
 Seek me at the tomb of Shakspeare,'^ 
 
 Or before the shrine of Homer." ^ 
 
tTNION f IFTH READEE. 107 
 
 Virtue said, " If I am missing, 
 
 And you deem me worth the trouble, 
 
 Seek me in the courts of monarchs, 
 Or the dwelhno;s of the noble. 
 
 6. "If, among the high and mighty, 
 
 You shall fail to find me present, 
 You may meet with better fortune 
 In the cottage of the peasant.'* 
 
 7. " Ah ! " said Reputation, sighing, 
 
 '^ It is easy of discerning. 
 Each of you may freely wander 
 With a prospect of returning ! 
 
 8. "But, I pray youy guard me closely ; 
 
 For, despite your best endeavor, 
 If you miss me for a moment, 
 
 I am lost, — AND LOST forever!" 
 
 LESSON XXIY. 
 
 * Mil' ton, Joh\, one of the great poets of Eno^land, was born in London. 
 Dec. 9, 1608, and died Nov. 8, 1675. His life was }3ure and spiritual. 
 His sympathies and best efforts were freely given to all the noblest 
 interests of humaniLy. He hated every form of oppression, was the 
 eloquent advocate of the freedom of the press, and the bold champion 
 of human rights. When fifty-six years of age, he became totally blind. 
 He now sat down in poverty, affliction, and obscurity, to work out the 
 immortality Avhich had been the object of his earliest aspirations. His 
 latter years were employed in the compositions of " Paradise Lost " 
 and " Paradise Regained." 
 
108 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ' How'' ARD, JoHNT, a celebrated English philanthropist, was born 1726, and 
 died 1790, from a malignant fever caught in visiting a sufferer. He 
 did much to reform the prisons and hospitals of Europe. 
 
 ^ Har' vey, William, a celebrated physician, was born in England, 1.578, 
 and died 1657. He was the discoverer of the circulation of the blood, 
 of which he published an account in 1628. 
 
 * Marl' bor odgh, John Churchill, afterwards the Duke of Marlbor- 
 
 ough, was the greatest general England ever produced before the 
 Duke of Wellington, and one of the greatest of modern Europe. He 
 was bom at Ashton, July 5, 1650, and died Aug. 6, 1722. 
 
 * Wel' ling ton, Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, was born in 
 
 Ireland, May 1, 1769, and died 1852. He is regarded as the greatest 
 English general. He won the battle of Waterloo against Napoleoa 
 in 1815. 
 
 DESERVE IT I 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. "VTE 'ER droop your head upon your hand, 
 l.\ And wail the bitter times ; 
 
 The self-same bell 
 That tolls a knell 
 Can ring out merry chimes. 
 And we have still the elements 
 That made up fame of old , 
 The wealth to prize 
 WitJiin us lies, 
 And not in senseless gold. 
 Yes ; there exists a certain plan, 
 
 If you will but obsers^e it, 
 
 That opes success to any man ; 
 
 The secret is — deserve it ! 
 
 2. What use to stand by Fortune's hill 
 
 And idly sigh and mope ? 
 
 Its sides are rough. 
 
 And steep enough, 
 'Tis true ; but if you hope 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 109 
 
 To battle 'gainst impediments 
 That rudely stop your way, 
 Go boldly to't ; 
 Strike at the root : 
 You'll sui-ely gain the day. 
 Prate not about new-fangled plans, — 
 
 Mine's best, if you'll observe it : 
 I say success is any man's 
 If he will but deserve it ! 
 
 3. Homer and Milton ^ reign supreme 
 
 With Shakspeare — worthy band ; 
 And How^ard's^ name, 
 And Harvey's^ claim. 
 Are sung throughout the land ; 
 And Marlborough^ and Wellington* 
 Illustrious stand in fight ; 
 
 And Newton gleams 
 Amid the beams 
 Gf an undying light ! 
 What did they do to gain a name ? 
 
 What did they to preserve it 
 With an untarnished, deathless fame ? 
 They simply did — deserve it! 
 
 4. And thus may you — and you — and you — 
 
 From depths the most profound, 
 
 Your wishes teach 
 
 Success to reach 
 Up to the topmost round. 
 But if, from some unreckoned cause, 
 (Say, market overstocked,) 
 
 Your hoped-for spoil 
 
 Pay others' toil. 
 
110 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Think not your efforts mocked : 
 If Fortune's smile so faintly beam 
 
 That you can scarce preserve it, 
 Remember, there is One above. 
 
 Who knows that you deserve it! 
 
 LESSON XXV. 
 
 THE BRIDAL WINE-CUP. 
 
 " T)LEDGE with wine — pledge with wine!" cried the 
 
 X young and thoughtless Harvey. " Pledge with 
 wine!" ran through the bridal party. 
 
 The beautiful bride grew pale. She pressed her hands 
 together, and the leaves of her bridal wreath trembled on 
 her brow ; her breath came quicker, and her heart beat 
 wilder. 
 
 " Yes, Marion, lay aside your scruples for this once," 
 said the judge, in a low tone, " the company expect it. Do 
 not so seriously infringe upon the iniles of etiquette : * in 
 your own home do as you please ; but in mine^ for this 
 once, please me." 
 
 2. Every eye was turned toward the bridal pair. Mar- 
 ion's principles were well known. Harvey had been a 
 convivialist ; but of late his friends noticed the change hi 
 his manners, and the difference in his habits. 
 
 Pouring a brimming cup, they held it with tempting 
 smiles toward Marion. She was very pale, though now 
 more composed. Smiling, she accepted the crystal tempter, 
 and raised it to her lips. But scarcely had she done so, 
 
 * Pronounced Et i hetf. 
 
UNION FIFTH REABEE. Ill 
 
 when every liand was arrested by her piercing exclama- 
 tion of "OA, how terrible!'' 
 
 "What is it?" cried one and all, thronging together; 
 for she had slowly carried the glass at arm's-length, 
 and was reo-arding: it as though it was some hideous 
 object. 
 
 8. "Wait," she answered, "wait, and I will tell you. I 
 see," she added, slowly pointing one of her jeweled fingers 
 at the sparkling liquid, " a sight that beggars all descrip- 
 tion ; and yet listen, — I will paint it for you, if I can. It 
 is a lovely spot ; tall mountains, crowded with verdure, 
 rise in awful sublimity around* a river runs through, and 
 bright flowers grow to the water's edge. There is a thick, 
 warm mist that the sun seeks vainly to pierce. Trees, 
 lofty and beautiful, wave to the motion of the breeze. 
 But there a group of Indians gather, and flit to and fro 
 with something like sorrow upon their dark brows ; and 
 in their midst lias a manly form — but his cheek, how 
 deathly ! — his eyes, how wildly they glare around with 
 the fitfal fire of fever ! 
 
 4. " One friend stands beside him, — I should say kneels, 
 — for see ! he is pillowing that poor head upon his breast. 
 Genius in ruins on the high, holy-looking brow ! Why 
 should Death mark it, and he so young ? Look ! how he 
 throws back the damp curls ! See him clasp his hands ! 
 hear his shrieks for life ! how he clutches at the form of 
 his companion, imploring to be saved ! Oh, hear him call 
 piteously his father's name ! see him twine his fingers 
 together, as he shrieks for his sister, — the twin of his 
 soul, — weeping for him in his distant native land ! See ! 
 his arms are lifted to Heaven ! how wildly he prays for 
 mercy ! But fever rushes through his veins. The friend 
 beside him is weeping ! Awe-stricken, the dark men 
 
112 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 move silently away, and leave the living and the 
 dying together!" 
 
 5. There was a hush in that princely parlor, broken 
 only by what seemed a smothered sob from some manly 
 bosom. The bride stood yet upright, with quivering lip, 
 and tears streaming down her pallid cheek. Her arm had 
 lost its extension ; and the glass, with its contents, came 
 slowly toward the range of her vision. She spoke again. 
 Every lip was mute ; her voice was low, faint, yet distinct. 
 Still she fixed her sorrowful glance upon the wine-cup. 
 
 " It is evening now : the great white moon is coming 
 up, and her beams fall gently on his forehead. He moves 
 not; his eyes are rolUng in their sockets, and dim are 
 the piercing glances, (jt?.) In vain his friend whispers the 
 name of father and sister. No soft hand and no gentle 
 voice bless and soothe him. His head sinks back ; one 
 convulsive shudder — he is dead!" 
 
 6. A groan ran through the assembly. So vivid was 
 her description, so unearthly her look, so inspired her man- 
 ner, that what she described seemed actually to have taken 
 place then and there. They noticed, also, that the bride- 
 groom had hid his face, and was weeping. 
 
 (j9^.) "Dead!" she repeated again, her lips quivering 
 faster, and her voice more broken, — "and there they 
 scoop him a grave ; and there, without a shroud, they lay 
 him down in the damp, reeking earth, — the only son of a 
 proud father, the idolized brother of a fond sister ; and he 
 sleeps to-day, in that distant country, with no stone to 
 mark the spot. There he lies, — my father s son, my own 
 twin-brother, — a victim of this deadly poison! Fptiier," 
 she exclaimed, turning suddenly, while the tear^ rolled 
 down her beautiful cheeks, — "father, shall I drink the 
 poison now'?" 
 
. UNION FIFTH EEADER. 113 
 
 7. The form of the judge was convulsed with agony. 
 He raised not his head ; but, in a smothered voice, he 
 faltered, — '' No, no, my child I — for Heaven's sake, 
 no!" 
 
 She lifted the ghttering goblet, and, letting it fall sud- 
 denly to the floor, it was dashed to pieces. Many a tear- 
 ful eye watched her movement, and instantaneously every 
 glass was transferred to the marble table. Then, as she 
 looked at the fragments of crystal, she turned to the com- 
 pany, saying, — 
 
 *' Let no friend hereafter, who loves me, tempt me to 
 peril my soul for wine, or any other poisonous venom. 
 Not firmer are the everlasting hills than my resolve, God 
 helping me, never to touch or taste the tei^rihle poison. And 
 hey to whom I have given my hand — who wat-ched over 
 my brother's dying form in that land of gold — will sustain 
 me in this resolve. Will you not, my husband? " 
 
 8. His glistening eyes, his sad, sweet smile, was his 
 answer. The judge had left the room ; but when he re- 
 turned, and, with a more subdued manner, took part in the 
 entertainment of the bridal guests, no one could fail to see 
 that hsy too, had determined to banish the enemy at once 
 and forever from that princely home. 
 
 Reader, this is no fiction. J was there and heard the 
 words, which I have penned, as nearly as I can recollect 
 them. This bride, her husband, and her brother who died 
 in the gold regions of California, v/ere schoolmates of mine. 
 Those who were present at that wedding of my associates 
 never forgot the impression so solemnly made, and all^ from 
 that hour, forsook the social glass, 
 8 
 
114 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XXYL 
 
 En thu'si asm, (from two Greek words, ex, in, or ■within; and theos, a 
 god;) signifies, literally, the state or condition of having a god within 
 us ; that is, being under the inspiration of a god : hence, strong mental 
 excitement ; ardent feeling. 
 
 DESOLATING EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 W. IRVING. 
 
 THE depopulating pestilence that walketli at noon-da j, 
 the carnage of cruel and devastating war, can scarcely 
 exhibit their victims in a more terrible array, than exter- 
 minating drunkenness. I have seen a promising family 
 spring from a parent trunk, and stretch abroad its popu- 
 lous limbs, like a flowering tree covered with green and 
 healthy foliage. I have seen the unnatural decay begin- 
 ning upon the yet tender leaf, and gnawing like a worm 
 in an unopened bud, while they dropped off, one by one, 
 and the scathed and ruined shaft stood desolate and alone, 
 until the winds and rains of many a sorrow laid that, 
 too, in the dust. 
 
 2. On one of those holy days when the patriarch, rich 
 in virtue as in years, gathered about him the great and the 
 little ones of the flock — his sons with their sons, and his 
 daughters with their daughters — I, too, sat at the festive 
 board. I, too, pledged them in the social wine-cup, and 
 rejoiced with them round the hospitable hearth, and ex- 
 patiated with delight upon the eventful future ; while the 
 good old man, warmed in the genial glow of youthful 
 enthusiasm,^ wiped the tear of joy from his glistening eye. 
 He was happy ! 
 
 3. I met with them again when the rolling year brought 
 the festive season round. But they were not all there. 
 The kind old man sighed as his suffused eye dwelt upon 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 115 
 
 the then unoccupied seat. But joy yet came to his relief, 
 and he was happy. A parent's love knows no diminu- 
 tion, — time, distance, poverty, shame, but give intensity 
 and strength to that passion, before which all others dis- 
 solve and melt away. 
 
 4. Another elai)sed. The board was spread ; but the 
 gnests came not. The old man cried, — ''Where are my 
 childrenf'' And Echo answered, — '•'Wheref^ His heart 
 broke ; for they were not. Could not Heaven have spared 
 his gray hairs this affliction' ? Alas ! the demon of Drunk- 
 enness had been there ! They had fallen victims to his 
 spell. And one short month sufficed to cast the vail of 
 oblivion over the old man's sorrow, and the young men's 
 shame. — - They are all dead ! 
 
 LESSON XXVII. 
 
 Ei/lo gt, (eu, well; logy, a speaking;) signifies a speaking well of, that 
 is, a speech in praise of some particular person or thing ; a laudatory 
 address. See Sanders' Analyzer, page 74. 
 
 EULOGY! ON COLD WATER. 
 
 PAUL DENTON. 
 
 The following eloquent speech was delivered by Paul Denton, a mission- 
 ary of the M. E. Church in Texas, at a barbecue camp-meeting, many years 
 ago. In a previous notice of the meeting, the preacher had announced that 
 preparations would be made to suit all tastes, — that there would be " a 
 splendid barbecue, better liquor, and the best of gospel." After partaking 
 of the repast, a voice was heard to exclaim, — "Paul Denton, wha'e is (he 
 liquor you promised us ? " To which he made the following reply : — 
 
 " fTlHERE," replied the speaker, pointing to a sparkling 
 
 JL fountain that bubbled up from the mountain's base, 
 
 " THERE is the liquor which God, the Eternal, brews for 
 
 all his children ! Not in the simmering still, over smoking 
 
116 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 fires, choked with poisonous gases, and surrounded with 
 the stench of sickening odors and rank corruption, doth 
 your Father in Heaven prepare the precious essence of 
 hfe — Pure Cold Water ! 
 
 2. " But in the green glades and grassy dell, where the 
 red deer wanders, and the child loves to play, there God 
 Himself brews it ; and down, low down in the deepest val- 
 leys, where the fountains murmur, and the rills sing ; and 
 high upon the mountain-tops, where the naked granite 
 glitters like gold in the sun, where the storm-cloud broods, 
 and the thunder-storms crash ; and away far out on the 
 wide, wide sea, where the hurricane howls music, and 
 big waves roar the chorus, ' sweeping the march of God ! ' 
 THERE He brews it, that beverage of life, health-giving 
 water ! 
 
 3. " And everywhere it is a thing of beauty : gleaming 
 in the dew-drop ; singing in the summer-rain ; shining in 
 the ice-gem, till the trees seem turned to living jewels ; 
 spreading a golden vail over the setting sun, or a white 
 gauze around the midnight moon ; sporting in the cata- 
 ract ; sleeping in the glacier ; glancing in the hail-shower ; 
 folding bright snow-curtains softly above the wintery world, 
 and weaving the many-colored rainbow — that seraph's 
 zone of the sky, whose warp is the rain of earth, whose 
 woof is the sunbeam of heaven, all checkered over with 
 celestial flowers by the mystic hand of refraction ; still 
 always it is beautiful^ that blessed cold ivater ! 
 
 4. " No poison bubbles on its brink ; its foam brings not 
 madness and murder ; no blood stains its liquid glass ; pale 
 widows and starving orphans weep not burning tears in its 
 clear depths ; no drunkard's shrieking ghost from the grave 
 curses it in words of despair ! But everywhere^ diffusing all 
 around life, vigor, and happiness, it is the purest emblem 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 117 
 
 of the Water of Life, of wliich, if a man drink, he shall 
 never thirst. Speak out, my friends ; would you excha7ige 
 it for the demon'' s drink, alcohol' f'' A shout, like the roar 
 of a tempest, answered, — " No ! " 
 
 LESSON XXVIII. 
 
 PROFANENESS. 
 
 E. H. CHAPIX. 
 
 PROFANENESS is a low, groveling vice. He who indul- 
 ges it is no gentleman. I care not what his stamp may 
 be in society, — I care not what clothes he wears, or what 
 culture he boasts, — despite all his refinement, the light 
 and habitual taking of God's name in vaiii betrays a coarse 
 nature and a brutal will. 
 
 2. Profaneness is an unmanly and silly vice. It certainly 
 is not a grace in conversation ; and it adds no strength to 
 it. There is no organic symmetry in the narrative which 
 is ingrained with oaths ; and the blasphemy which bolsters 
 an opinion does not make it any more correct. Nay, the 
 use of profane oaths argues a limited range of ideas, and a 
 consciousness of being on the wrong side ; and, if we can 
 find no other ])hrases through which to vent our choking 
 passian, we had better repress that passion. 
 
 3. Profaneness is a mean vice. It indicates the grossest 
 ingratitude. According to general estimation, he who re- 
 pays kindness Avitli contumely, he who abuses his friend 
 and benefactor, is deemed pitiful and wretched. And yet, 
 O profaYie one! Avhose name is it you handle so lightly ? 
 It is that of your best Benefactor ! You, whose blood 
 would boil to hear the venerable names of your earthly 
 
118 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 parents hurled about in scoffs and jests, abuse, without 
 compunction and without thought, the name of your Heav- 
 enly Father ! 
 
 4. Profaneness is an awful vice! Once more, I ask, 
 whose name is it you so lightly use ? That holy name of 
 God ! Have you ever pondered its meaning' ? Have you 
 ever thought what it is that you mingle thus with your 
 ])assion and your wit' ? It is the name of Him whom 
 the angels worship, whom the Heaven of heavens can not 
 contain ! 
 
 5. Profane young man ! though habit be ever so strin- 
 gent with you, when the word of mockery and of blas- 
 phemy is about to leap from your lips, think of these 
 considerations, think of God, and, instead of that wicked 
 oath, cry out in reverent prayer, — "Hallowed be Thy 
 Name!'' 
 
 LESSON XXIX. 
 
 ^ Sa' bi an, of or pertaining to Saba, an ancient town of Arabia, celebrated 
 for frankincense, myrrh, and aromatic plants. 
 
 VOICES OF GOD. 
 
 LON. BRIT. MAGAZINE. 
 
 1. rilHERE are voices of God for the careless ear, — 
 X A low-breathed whisper when none is near ; 
 111 the silent watch of the night's calm hours, 
 When the dews are at rest in the deep-sealed flowers ; 
 When the wings of the zephyr are folded up, 
 When the violet bendeth its azure cup ; 
 'Tis a breath of reproval — a murmuring tone, 
 Like music remembered, or ecstasies ixone. 
 
UN J ON FIFTH HEADER. 119 
 
 2. 'Tis a voice that sweeps through the evening sky, 
 When the clouds o'er the pale moon are hurrying by ; 
 While the fickle gusts, as they come and go. 
 
 Wake the forest boughs on the mountain's brow ; 
 It speaks in the shadows that swiftly pass, — 
 In the waves that are roused from the lake's clear glass, 
 Where the summer shores, in their verdant pride, 
 Were pictured but late in the stainless tide. 
 
 3. And that voice breaks out in the tempest's flight. 
 When the wild winds sweep in their fearful might ; 
 When the hghtnings go forth on the hills to play. 
 As they pass on their pinions of fire away ; 
 While they fiercely smile through the dusky sky, 
 As the thunder-peals to their glance reply ; 
 
 As the bolts leap out from the somber cloud. 
 While midnight whirlwinds sing wild and loud 1 
 
 4. 'Tis a voice which comes in the early morn. 
 When the matin hymns of the birds are born ; 
 It steals from the fold of the painted cloud, — 
 From the forest draperies, sublime and proud ! 
 Its tones are blent with the runtiing stream. 
 As it sweeps along, like a changeful dream. 
 
 In its light and shade, through the checkered vale, 
 While the uplands are fanned by the viewless gale. 
 
 5. In the twilight hour, when the weary bird 
 On its nest is sleeping, that voice is heard ; 
 
 While mist-robes are drawn o'er the green earth's breast^ 
 And the sun hath gone down from the faded west ; 
 In the hush of that silence — when winds are still. 
 And the light wakes no smile in the babbling rill ; 
 Through the wonderful depths of the purple air, 
 O'er the landscape trembling — that voice is there-* 
 
120 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 6. There are whispers of God in the cataract's roar, — 
 In the sea's rude wail on its sounding sliore, — 
 
 In the waves tliat melt on her azure isles, 
 
 Where the sunny south on their verdure smiles, — 
 
 In the ocean-ward wind from the orange trees, 
 
 In the Sabian^ odors that load the breeze ; 
 
 'Midst the incense that floats from Arabia's strand, 
 
 That tone is there, with its whispers bland I 
 
 7. And it saith to the cold and the careless heart, 
 How long wilt thou turn from " the better part " ? 
 
 I have called fi'om the infinite depths of heaven, — 
 I have called, — but no answer to me was given ; 
 From many a hallowed and glorious spot, 
 I have called by my Spirit, — and ye would not ! 
 Thou art far from the haven, and tempest-tossed, — 
 Hear the cry of thy Pilot ^ or thou art lost! 
 
 LESSON XXX 
 BETTER THAN GOLD. 
 
 1. "HETTER than grandeur, better than gold, 
 \ I Than rank and titles, a thousand fold. 
 Is a healthy hody^ a mind at ease, 
 And simple pleasures that always please ; — 
 A heart that can feel for another's woe. 
 And share his joys with a genial glow, 
 AYith sympathies large enough to infold 
 All men as brothers, is better than gold. 
 
UNION FIFTH RE A DEB. 121 
 
 2. Better than gold is a conscience clear^ 
 Though toilmg for bread in a humble sphere ; 
 Doubly blessed with content and health, 
 Untried by the lusts or cares of wealth ; 
 Lowly living and lofty thought 
 
 Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot ; 
 For mind and morals, in Nature's plan, 
 Are the genuine test of a gentleman. 
 
 3. Better than gold is the sweet repose 
 
 Of the sons of toil when their labors close ; 
 
 Better than gold is a poor man's sleep, 
 
 And the balm that drops on his slumber deep. 
 
 Bring sleeping draughts to the downy bed 
 
 Where Luxury pillows his aching head ; 
 
 His simple opiate labor deems 
 
 A shorter road to the land of dreams. 
 
 4. Better than gold is a thinJdng mind. 
 That, in the realm of books, can find 
 A treasure surpassing Australian ore, 
 And live with the great and good of yore. 
 The sage's lore, and the poet's lay, 
 
 The glories of empires passed away. 
 
 The world's great drama, will thus unfold. 
 
 And yield a pleasure better than gold. 
 
 5. Better than gold is a peaceful home. 
 Where all the fireside charities come, — 
 The shrine of love, the heaven of life. 
 Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife. 
 However humble the home may be. 
 
 Or tried with sorrow by Heaven's decree, 
 The blessings that never were bought or sold. 
 And center there, are better than gold. 
 
122 SANDEliS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XXXI. 
 THE ANGEL OF THE LEAVES: An Allegory. 
 
 HANNAH F. GOULD. 
 
 *' A LAS ! alas ! " said the sorrowing Tree, " my beautiful 
 J\. robe is gone ! It has been torn from me. Its faded 
 pieces whirl upon the wind ; they rustle beneath the squir- 
 rel's foot, as he searches for his nut. They float upon the 
 passing stream, and on the quivering lake. Woe is me ! 
 for my fair, green vesture is gone. It was the gift of the 
 Angel of the Leaves ! I have lost it, and my glory has 
 vanished ; my beauty has disappeared. My summer hours 
 have passed away. My bright and comely garment, alas I 
 it is rent in a thousand parts. 
 
 2. " Who will weave me such another ? Piece by piece, 
 it has been stripped from me. Scarcely did I sigh for the 
 loss of one, ere another wandered off* on the air. The 
 sound of music cheers me no more. The birds that sang 
 in my bosom were dismayed at my desolation. They 
 have flown away with their songs. 
 
 3. " I stood in my pride. The sun brightened my robe 
 with his smile. The zephyrs breathed softly through its 
 glossy folds ; the clouds strewed pearls among them. My 
 shadow was wide upon the earth. My arms spread far 
 on the gentle air ; my head was lifted high ; my fore- 
 head was fair to the heavens. But now, how changed ! 
 Sadness is upon me ; my head is shorn, my arms are 
 stripped ; I can not now throw a shadow on the ground. 
 Beauty has departed ; gladness is gone out of my bosom ; 
 the blood has retired from my heart, it has sunk into the 
 earth. 
 
 4. " I am thirsty; I am cold. My naked limbs shiver in 
 the chilly air. The keen blast comes pitiless among them. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 123 
 
 The winter is coming ; I am destitute. SorroAv is my por- 
 tion. Mourning must wear me away. How shall I ac- 
 count to the Angel who clothed me, for the loss of his 
 beautiful gift?" 
 
 5. The Angel had been hstening. In soothing accents he 
 answered the lamentation. '' My beloved Tree," said he, 
 " be comforted. I am with thee still, though every leaf 
 has forsaken thee. The voice of gladness is hushed among 
 thy boughs ; but let my whisper console thee. Thy sorrow 
 is but for a season. Trust in me ; keep my promise in thy 
 heart. Be patient and full of hope. Let the words I 
 leave with thee abide and cheer thee through the coming 
 winter. Then I will return and clothe thee anew. 
 
 6. " The storm will drive over thee, the snow will sift 
 through thy naked limbs. But these Avill be light and 
 passing afflictions. The ice will weigh heavily on thy help- 
 less arms ; but it shall soon dissolve into tears." It shall pass 
 into the ground, and be drunken by thy roots. Then it 
 will creep up in secret beneath thy bark. It will spread 
 into the branches it has oppressed, and help me to adorn 
 them ; for I shall be here to use it. 
 
 7. " Thy blood has now only retired for safety. The 
 frost would chill and destroy it. Earth will not rob her 
 offspring. She is a careful parent. She knows the wants 
 of all her children, and forgets not to provide for the least 
 of them. 
 
 8. *' The sap, that has for a while gone down, will make 
 thy roots strike deeper and spread wider. It will then re^ 
 turn to nourish thy heart. It will be renewed and strength- 
 ened. Then, if thou shalt have remembered and trusted in 
 my promise, I will fulfill it. Buds shall shoot forth on 
 every side of thy boughs. I will unfold for thee another 
 robe. I will paint it and f)t it in every ]:)art. It shall be a 
 
124 SANDERS' UKION SERIES. 
 
 comely raiment. Thou shalt forget thy present sorrow. 
 Sadness shall be swallowed up in joy. Now, my beloved 
 Tree, fare thee well for a season ! " 
 
 9. The Angel was gone. The muttering winter drew 
 near. The wild blast whistled for the storm. The storm 
 came and howled around the Tree. But the word of the 
 Angel was hidden in her heart ; it soothed her amid the 
 threatenings of the tempest. The ice-cakes rattled upon 
 her limbs ; they loaded and weighed them down. 
 
 10. " My slender branches," said she, " let not this bur- 
 den overcome you. Break not beneath this heavy afflic- 
 tion ; break not, but bend, till you can spring back to your 
 places. Let not a twig of you be lost. Hope must prop 
 you for a while, and the Angel will reward your patience. 
 You will move upon a softer air. Grace shall be again in 
 your motion, and beauty hang around you." 
 
 11. The scowling face of winter began to lose its feat- 
 ures. The raging storm grew faint, and breathed its last. 
 The restless clouds fretted themselves to atoms ; they scat- 
 tered upon. the sky, and were brushed away. The sun 
 threw down" a bundle of golden arrows. They fell upon 
 the tree ; the ice-cakes glittered as they came. Every one 
 was shattered by a shaft, and unlocked itself upon the limb. 
 They were melted and gone. 
 
 12. The reign of Spring had come. Her blessed min- 
 isters were abroad in the earth ; they hovered in the air ; 
 they blended their beautiftil tints, and cast a new-created 
 glory on the face of the heavens. 
 
 13. The Tree was rewarded for her trust. The Angel 
 was true to the object of his love. He returned ; he be- 
 stowed on her another robe. It was bright, glossy, and 
 unsullied. The dust of summer had never lit upon it; 
 the scorching heat had not faded it ; the moth had not pro- 
 faned it. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 125 
 
 14. The Tree stood again in lov^eliness ; she was dressed 
 in more than her former beauty ; she was very fair ; joy 
 smiled around her on every side. The birds flew back to 
 her bosom. They sang on every branch a hymn to the 
 Angel of the Leaves. 
 
 LESSON XXXII. 
 THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 
 
 JOHN TODD. 
 
 AT the foot of a noble mountain in Asia stood a beanlK 
 ful cottage. Around it were walks, and shades, and 
 fruits, such as were nowhere else to be found. The sun 
 shone upon no spot more beautiful or luxuriant. It was 
 the home of Hafed, the aged and prosperous. He reared 
 the cottage ; he adorned the spot ; and here, for more than 
 fourscore years, he had lived and studied. 
 
 2. During all this time, the sun had never forgotten to 
 visit him daily; the harvest had never failed, the pestilence 
 had never destroyed, and the mountain stream had never 
 dried up. The wife of his youth still lived to cheer him ; 
 and his son and daughter were such as were not to be found 
 in all that province. 
 
 3. But who can insure earthly happiness ? In one short 
 week, Hafed was stripped of all his joys. His wife took 
 cold, and a quick fever followed ; and Hafed saw that she 
 must die. His son and daughter both returned from the 
 burial of their mother, fatigued and sick. The nurse gave 
 them, as she thought, a simple medicine. In a few hours, 
 it was found to be poison. Hafed saw that they must die; 
 for the laws of nature are fixed, and poison kills. 
 
 4. He buried them in one wide, deep grave ; and it 
 
126 SANDEES' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 seemed as if in that grave lie buried liis reason and re- 
 ligion. He tore liis gray hair ; he cursed the light of day, 
 and wished tlie moon turned into blood. He arraigned the 
 wisdom of God in His government over this Avorld, declar- 
 ing tliat the laws which He had established were all wrong, 
 useless, and worse than none. He wished the world were 
 governed by Chance^ or, at least, that, at his death, he 
 might go to a world where there was no God to fix unal- 
 terable laws. 
 
 5. In the center of Hafed's garden stood a beautiful 
 palm-tree. Under this Hafed was sitting, the second even- 
 ing after he had closed tiie grave over his children. Before 
 him lay the beautiful country, and above him the glorious 
 lieavens, and the bright moon just pushing up her modest 
 face. But Hafed looked upon all this, and grief swelled 
 in his throat ; his tongue murmured ; his heart was full of 
 blasphemous thoughts of God. 
 
 6. As the night deepened, Hafed, as he thought, fell 
 asleep with a heavy heart. When he supposed he awoke, 
 it was in a new spot. All around him was new. As he 
 stood wondering where he was, he saw a creature approach 
 him, which appeared like a baboon ; but, on its coming 
 nearer, he saw that it Avas a creature somewhat resembling 
 a man, but every way ill-shaped and monstrous. 
 
 7. He came up, and walked around Hafed, as if he 
 were a superior being, exclaiming, — " Beautiful, beautiful 
 creature ! " " Shame, shame on thee! " said Hafed ; " dost 
 thou treat a stranger thus with insults ? Leave off thy 
 jests, and tell me where I am, and how I came here ! '^ 
 '' I do not know how you came here ; but liere you are, in 
 our world, which we call Chance World, because every 
 thing happens here by chance." 
 
 8. " Ah ! is it so ? This must be delightful ! This is 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 127 
 
 just the world for me. Oh, had I always lived here, my 
 beautiful children would not have died under a foolish and 
 inex'orable law ! Come, show me this world ; for I long to 
 see it. But have ye really no God, nor any one to make 
 laws and govern you as he sees fit' ?" 
 
 9. " I do not know what you mean by the word God. 
 We have nothing of that kind here, — nothing but chance. 
 But go with me, and you will understand all about it. * 
 As they proceeded, Hafed noticed that every thing looked 
 queer and odd. Some of the grass was green, some red, 
 some white, some new, and some dying; some grew with 
 the top downward ; all kinds were mingled together ; and, 
 on the whole, the sight was very painful. 
 
 10. He stopped to examine an orchard : here Chance 
 had been at work. On a fine-looking apple-tree he saw 
 210 fruit but large, coarse cucumbers. A small peach-tree 
 was breaking dow« under its load of gourds. Some of the 
 trees were growing with their tops downward, and the 
 roots branching out into the air. Here and there were 
 great holes dug, by which somebody had tried to get down 
 twenty or thirty feet, in order to get the fruit. 
 
 11. The guide told Hafed that there was no certainty 
 about these trees, and that you could never tell what fruit 
 a tree would happen to bear. The tree which this year 
 bears cucumbers, may bear potatoes next year, and per- 
 haps you would have to dig twenty feet for every potato 
 you obtained. 
 
 12. They soon met another of the " chance men.'* Hi? 
 legs were very linequal in length : one had no knee, and 
 the other no ankle. His ears were set upon his shoulders, 
 and around his head was a thick, black bandage. He 
 came groping his way, and Hafed asked him how long 
 since he had lost his sight. 
 
128 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 13. "I have not lost it," said he; "but when I was 
 bom, my eyeballs happened to turn in instead o^ out; and 
 the back parts, being outward, are very painful in the 
 light, and so I put on a covering. Yet I am as well off as 
 others. My brother has one good eye on tlie top of his 
 head; but it looks directly upward, and the sun almost 
 puts it out." 
 
 14. They stopped to look at some " chance cattle " in a 
 yard. Some had but three legs ; some were covered with 
 wool, under which they were sweltering in a climate 
 always tropical. Some were half horse and half ox. 
 Cows had young camels following them instead of calves. 
 Young elephants were there with flocks of sheep, horses 
 with claws like a lion, and geese clamping round the yard 
 with hoofs like horses. It was all a work of Chance, 
 
 15. " This," said the guide, '• is a choice collection of 
 cattle. You never saw the like before." " That is true — 
 truth itself," cried Hafed. "Ah ! but the owner has been 
 at great pains and expense to collect them. I do not be- 
 lieve there is another such collection anywhere in all this 
 < Chance World.' " " I hope not," said' Hafed. < 
 
 LESSON XXXIII. 
 
 THE WORLD OF CHANCE. 
 
 (continued.) 
 
 JUST as they were leaving the premises, the owner came 
 out to admire, and show, and talk over his treasures. 
 He wanted to gaze at Hafed ; but his head happened to be 
 near the ground, between his feet, so that he had to mount 
 upon a wall before he could get a fair view of the stranger. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 129 
 
 " Do not think I am a happy man," said he, " in having so 
 many and such perfect animals. Alas ! even in this per- 
 fect and happy world, there are always drawbacks. That 
 fine-looking cow yonder happens to give nothing but warm 
 water, instead of milk ; and her calf, poor thing ! died 
 before it was a week old. 
 
 2. " Some of them are stone blind, some can not live in 
 the light, and few of them can hear. No two of them eat 
 the same food, and it is a great labor to take care of them. 
 I sometimes feel as if I would almost as lief be a pooi 
 man." " I think I should rather," said Hafed. 
 
 3. While they were talking, in an instant they were in 
 midnight darkness. The sun was gone, and Hafed could 
 not, for some time, see his guide. " What has happened P^^ 
 said he. " Oh, nothing uncommon," said the guide. " The 
 sun happened to go down now. There is no regular time 
 for him to shine ; but he goes and comes just as it happens, 
 and leaves us suddenly, as you see." 
 
 4. " As I don't see," said Hafed ; " but I hope he will 
 come back at the appointed time, at any rate." " That, 
 sir, will be just as it happens. Sometimes he is gone for 
 months, and sometimes for weeks, and sometimes only for 
 a few minutes, just as it happens. We may not see him 
 again for months, but perhaps he will come soon." 
 
 5. As the guide was proceeding, to the inexpressible joy 
 of all, the sun at once broke out. The light was so sud- 
 den, that Hafed at first thought he must be struck with 
 lightning, and actually put his hands to his eyes to see if 
 they were safe. He then clapped his hands to his eyes 
 till he could gradually bear the light. There was a splen- 
 dor about the sun, which he had never before seen ; and it 
 was intolerably hot. The air seemed like a furnace. 
 
 6. "Ah," said the owner of the cattle, "we must now 
 
 9 
 
130 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 scorch for it ! My poor wool ox must die at once ! Bad 
 luck, bad luck to us ! The sun has come back nearer than 
 he was before. But we hope he will happen to go away 
 again soon, and then happen to come back farther off tlie 
 next time." 
 
 7. The sun was now pouring down his heat so intensely, 
 that they were glad to go into the house for shelter, — a 
 miserable-looking place indeed. Hafed could not but com- 
 pare it with his own beautiful cottage. Some timbers were 
 rotten ; for the tree was not, as it happened, the same in 
 all its i)arts. Some of the boards happened to be like 
 paper, and the nails torn out ; and these were loose and 
 comino; off. 
 
 8. They invited Hafed to eat. On sitting down at the 
 table, he noticed that each one had a different kind of food, 
 and that no two could eat out of the same dish. He was 
 told that it so happened, that the food which one could eat, 
 was poison to another ; and what was agreeable to one, was 
 nauseatino; to another. 
 
 9. "I suppose that to be coffee," said Hafed, " and I 
 will thank you for a cup." It Avas handed him. He had 
 been troubled with the toothache for some hours ; and how 
 did he quail, when, on filling his mouth, he found it was 
 ice, in little pieces about as large as pigeon-shot I 
 
 10. " Do you call ice-water coffee here?" said Hafed, 
 pressing his hand upon his cheek, while his tooth was 
 dancing with pain. " That is just as it happens. We put 
 water over the fire, and sometimes it heats it, and some- 
 times it freezes it. It is all chance work." 
 
 11. Hafed rose from the table in anguish of spirit. He 
 remembered the world where he had lived, and all that 
 was past. He had desired to live in a world where there 
 was no God, where all was governed by chance. Here 
 he was, and here he must live. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 131 
 
 12. He threw himself on a bed, and recalled the past, 
 — the beautiful world where he had once lived ; his in- 
 gratitude ; his murmurings against the wisdom and good- 
 ness of God. He wept like infancy. He would have 
 prayed, and even began a prayer : but then he recollected 
 that there was no God here ; nothing to direct events ; 
 nothing but chance. He shed many and bitter tears of 
 repentance. At last he wept himself asleep. 
 
 13. When Hafed again awoke, he was sitting under his 
 palm-tree in his own beautiful garden. It was morning. 
 At the appointed moment, the glorious sun rose up in the 
 east ; the fields were all green and fresh ; the trees were 
 all right end upward, and covered with blossoms ; and the 
 sonorsters were utterino; their mornino; soncrs. 
 
 14. Hafed arose, recalled tliat ugly dream, and then 
 wept for joy. Was he again in a world where Chance 
 does not reign ? He looked up, and then turned to the 
 God of heaven, the God of laws and of order, and gave 
 Him the glory, and confessed that His ways, to us un- 
 searchable, are full of wisdom. He was a new man ever 
 afterward ; nothing gave him greater cause of gratitude, as 
 he daily knelt in prayer, than the fact that he lived in a 
 world where God ruled, and ruled by laws fixed, wise, and 
 merciful. 
 
 LESSOISr XXXIY. 
 
 * Ve' nus is the second planet in order from the Sun, its orbit lying between 
 that of Mercury and that of the Earth, at a mean distance from the 
 Sun of about 66,000,000 miles. Its diameter is 7,500 miles, and its 
 period of revolution round the sun is nearly 225 days. As the morn- 
 ing-star, it was called, by the ancients, Lmifer ; as the evening-star, 
 Hesperuis. 
 
 3 Mars is the fourth planet in order from the Sun, or the next beyond the 
 
132 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Earth, having a diameter of about 4,300 miles, a period of 687 days, 
 and a mean distance of 139,000,000 miles. It is conspicuous for the 
 redness of its light. 
 
 NO GOD. 
 
 N. K. RICHARDSON. 
 
 " The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God." * 
 
 'I 
 
 S there no God' ? The white rose made reply, — 
 " My ermine robe was woven in the sky;" 
 The blue-bird warbled from his shady bower, — 
 " My plumage fell from Hands that made the fiowef ." 
 
 2. Is there no God' ? The silvery ocean spray, 
 . At the vile question, startles in dismay; 
 
 And, tossing mad against earth's impious clod. 
 Impatient thunders, — " Yes, there is a God ! " 
 
 3. Is there no God' ? The dying Christian's hand, 
 Pale with disease, points to a better land ; 
 And, ere his body mingles with the sod, 
 
 (jo.) He, sweetly smiHng, faintly murmurs, — " God." 
 
 4. " We publish God 1" the towering mountains cry 
 "Jehovah's name is blazoned on the sky 1" 
 
 The dancing streamlet and the golden grain. 
 The lightning gleam, the thunder and the rain;- « 
 
 6. The dew-drop diamond on the lily's breast, 
 The tender leaf by every breeze caressed ; 
 The shell whose pearly bosom ocean laves, 
 And sea- weed bowing to a troop of waves ; — 
 
 * Psalms, 14th, 1st verse, and 53d, 1st verse. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 133 
 
 6. The glow of Venus ^ and the glare of Mars,^ 
 The tranquil beauty of the lesser stars ; 
 The eagle soaring in majestic flight, 
 
 The morning bursting from the clouds of night ; — 
 
 7. The child's fond prattle and the mother's prayer, 
 Angelic voices floating in the air, — 
 
 Mind, heart, and soul, the ever-restless breath, 
 And all the myriad mysteries of death. 
 
 8. Beware, ye doubting, disbelieving throng. 
 Whose sole ambition is to favor wrong ; 
 There is a God ; remember while ye can, 
 
 " His Spirit will not always strive with man.'' 
 
 LESSON XXXY. 
 THE PRESENCE OF GOD. 
 
 AMELIA B. WELBY. 
 
 OTHOU, who fling' st so fair a robe 
 Of clouds around the hills untrod, — 
 Those mountain-pillars of the globe. 
 
 Whose peaks sustain Thy throne, O God ! 
 All glittering round the sunset skies, 
 
 Their trembling folds are lightly furled. 
 As if to shade from mortal eyes 
 
 The glories of yon upper world ; 
 There, while the evening star upholds 
 In one bright spot their purple folds, 
 My spirit lifts its silent prayer, 
 For Thou, the God of love, art there. 
 
134 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. The summer flowers, the fair, the sweet, 
 
 Upspringing freely from the sod. 
 In whose soft looks we seem to meet, 
 
 At every step. Thy smiles, O God ! 
 The humblest soul their sweetness shares ; 
 
 They bloom in palace-hall, or cot : 
 Give me, O Lord ! a heart hke theirs, 
 
 Contented with my lowly lot. 
 Within their pure ambrosial bells, 
 In odors sweet, Thy Spirit dwells : 
 Their breath may seem to scent the air ; 
 'Tis Thine, O God ! for Thou art there. 
 
 3. The birds among the summer-blooms 
 
 Pour forth to Thee their strains of love, 
 When, trembling on uplifted plumes. 
 
 They leave the earth and soar above. 
 We hear their sweet familiar airs 
 
 Where'er a sunny spot is found : 
 How lovely is a life like theirs, 
 
 Diffusincr sweetness all around ! 
 From clime to clime, from pole to pole, 
 Their sweetest anthems softly roll. 
 Till, melting on the realms of air, 
 Thy still small voice seems whispering there - 
 
 4. The stars, those floating isles of light, 
 
 Round which the clouds unfurl their sails. 
 Pure as a woman's robe of white 
 
 That trembles round the form it vails, — 
 They touch the heart as with a spell ; 
 
 Yet, set the soaring fancy free, 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 135 
 
 And oh, how sweet the tales they tell I — 
 They tell of peace, of love, and Thee ! 
 Each raging storm that wildly blows, 
 Each balmy gale that lifts the rose, 
 Sublimely grand, or softly fair, 
 They speak of Thee, for Thou art there. 
 
 6. The spirit oft oppressed with doubt, 
 
 May strive to cast Thee from its thought ; 
 But who can shut Thy presence out, 
 
 Thou mighty Guest, that com'st unsought ? 
 In spite of all our cold resolves, 
 
 Whate'er our thoughts, where'er we be, 
 Still magnet-hke the heart revolves. 
 
 And points, all trembling, up to Thee. 
 We can not shield a troubled breast 
 Beneath the confines of the blest, 
 Above, below, on earth, in air ; 
 For Thou, the living God, art there. 
 
 6. Yet, far beyond the clouds outspread. 
 
 Where soaring fancy oft hath been, 
 There is a land where Thou hast said 
 
 The pure of heart shall enter in. 
 In those fair realms so calmlv brijiht. 
 
 How many a loved and gentle one 
 Bathes its soft plumes in livino- lio-ht 
 
 That sparkles from Thy radiant throne ! 
 There souls once soft and sad as ours, 
 Look up and sing 'mid fadeless flowers : 
 They dream no more of grief and care ; 
 For Thou, the God of peace, art there. 
 
136 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON :k:^:^yl 
 
 INTEGRITY. 
 
 D. S. DICKINSON. 
 
 THERE is yet another rule for the guidance of the young 
 business-men, more important tlian any to which I have 
 adverted, and without which the subtle deductions of polit- 
 ical economy ahd the ornate science of commercial law 
 would be useless. It is not defined by the chapters of 
 statutes, nor divided into sections ; nor has it grown up 
 with the progress of civilization, to suit the demands of 
 society, or answer the exigencies of trade ; but it is coeval 
 with human existence, and is w ritten upon the tablet of 
 every heart. 
 
 2. It comprises a code of exquisite completeness for man's 
 moral government, and points the pathway for his footsteps, 
 which, carefully pursued, will place length of days in his 
 right hand ; and in his left, riches and honor : and it 
 admonishes with startling significance of the terrible pen- 
 alties which await those who disobey or seek to evade its 
 mandates.. This law is as unalterable as the renowned 
 Medes and Persians* fancied were their far-famed edicts. 
 
 " It lives through all time, 
 
 Extends through all extent, 
 Spreads undivided, 
 Operates unspent." 
 
 3. It is not taught in the schools, nor is study requisite 
 to its possession ; but the young and the old, the ignorant 
 and the learned, the rich and the poor, the lofty and the low, 
 
 * Daniel, vi. chap. 8 verse. 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 137 
 
 understand it alike, by that spark of divinity which electrifies 
 the soul, and gives the conscience intuition. It is Integri- 
 ty, — integrity, including all the cardinal and social virtues 
 which form a code for the moral government of man. It 
 is a capital which never depreciates with fluctuations, is 
 never at a discount, but is a sure rehance in every vicissi- 
 tude and trial. It points to honorable success in .life's 
 pilgrimage with unerring certainty ; and is both sword and 
 shield to him who would wage, with the true heart of man- 
 hood, the great battle of life. 
 
 4. What though the tempests howl, the storms beat, the 
 lightnings flash, the thunders roar, and the angry ocean 
 cast up its mire and dirt : he who holds fast to his integrity 
 will outride the danger, and may laugh at the fury of the 
 elements. His bow of promise will arch itself up again 
 in the lieavens, more beautiful than ever, as a living wit- 
 ness that truth can never die. The slaves of vice, and 
 the votaries of indolence and fraud, may flourish for a sea- 
 son ; but they perish by a law of being as fixed and certain 
 as the power of gravitation ; and, when they have closed 
 their ignoble existence, the devotees of truth will rise above 
 their ruin, like the flowers of spring upon the bleak deso- 
 lations of winter. 
 
 6. Go forth, then, young man, into this broad field of 
 labor, and hope, and reward, and peril ! Be temperate, 
 industrious, frugal, and self-reliant ; and whenever tempta- 
 tions shall cross your pathway and seek to allure you, 
 pause and reflect, — remember this time and occasion, your 
 associates and him who addresses you ; and remember, too, 
 and repeat this one word which I give you, as a talisman 
 or charm to shield and protect you from all evil, and bear 
 you through life's journey in safety; and that word is — 
 Integrity 1 
 
138 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSOX XXXVII. 
 
 1 Trans fig' ure (from trans, implying change, and figure, a form or 
 sJuipe) is to change the form or ligure; to transform. 
 
 * The Southern Cross is a brilliant little constellation, consisting of 
 
 four principal stars ; too far south, however, to be seen by us in these 
 northern regions. 
 
 * The Polar StXr is a star of the second magnitude, forming the ex- 
 
 tremity of Ursa Minor, or the Little Bear. 
 
 THE VISIBLE AND THE INVISIBLE. 
 
 ephraim peabody. . 
 
 HERE is a whaling vessel in the harbor, her anchors 
 up,' and her sails unfurled. The last boat has left her, 
 and she is now departing on a voyage of three, and perhaps 
 four years in length. All that the eye sees is that she. is a 
 fine ship, and that it has cost much labor to fit her out. 
 Those on board will spend years of toil, and will then re- 
 turn, while the profits of the voyage will be distributed, as 
 the case may be, to be squandered, or to be added to already 
 existing hoards. So much appears. But there is an un- 
 published history y which, could it be revealed, and brought 
 vividly before the mind, would transfigure^ her, and en- 
 shrine her in an almost awful light. 
 
 2. There is not a stick of timber in her whole frame, not 
 a piank or a rope, which is not, in some mysterious way, 
 enveloped with human interests and sympathies. Let us 
 trace this part of her history, while she circles the globe, 
 and returns to the harbor from which she sailed. At the 
 outset, the labor of the merchant, the carpenter, and of all 
 employed on her, has not been mere sordid labor. The 
 thought of their homes, of their children, and of what this 
 labor may secure for them, has been in their hearts. 
 
 3. And they who sail in her, leave behind homes, wives, 
 
UNION FIFTH EEABEK. 139 
 
 children, parents ; and, years before they return, those who 
 are dearest to them, may be in their tombs. What bitter 
 partings, as if by the grave's brink, are those which take 
 place when the signal to unmoor calls them on board ! 
 There are among them young men, married, perhaps, but 
 a few weeks before, and those of maturer years, whose 
 young children cleave to their hearts as they go. 
 
 4. How deeply, as the good ship sails out into the open 
 sea, is she freighted with memories and affections ! Every 
 eye is turned toward the receding coast, as if the pangs of 
 another farewell were to be endured. Fade slowly, shores 
 that encircle their homes ! Shine brightly, ye skies, over 
 those dear ones whom they leave behind ! 
 
 5. They round the capes of continents, they traverse 
 every zone, their keel crosses every sea ; but still, brighter 
 than the Southern Cross ^ or the Polar Star,^ shines on 
 their souls the light of their distant home. In the calm 
 moon-light rise before 'the mariner the forms of those 
 whom he loves ; in the pauses of the gale, he hears the 
 voices of his children. Beat upon by the tempest, worn 
 down with labor, he endures all. Welcome care and toil, 
 if these may bring peace and happiness to those dear ones 
 who meet around his distant fireside ! 
 
 6. And the thoughts of those in that home, compassing 
 the globe, follow him wherever he goes. Their prayers 
 blend with all the winds which swell his sails. Their affec- 
 tions hover over his dreams. Children count the months 
 and the days of a father's absence. The babe learns to 
 love him, and to lisp his name. Not a midnight storm 
 strikes their dwelling, but the wife starts from her sleep, as 
 if she heard, in the wailing of the wind, the sad forebodings 
 of danger and wreck. Not a soft wind blows, but comes 
 to her heart as a gentle messenger from the distant seas. 
 
140 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 7. And, after years of absence, they approach their na- 
 tive shores. As the day closes, they can see the summits of 
 the distant highlands, hanging like stationary clouds on the 
 horizon. And long before the night is over, their sleepless 
 eyes catch the light, glancing across the rim of the seas, 
 from the light-house at the entrance of the bay. With 
 the morning they are moored in the harbor. 
 
 8. The newspapers announce her arrival. But here, 
 again, how little of her caro^o is of that material kind which 
 can be reckoned in dollars and cents ! She is freighted 
 with human hearts, with anxieties, and hopes, and fears. 
 There are many there who have not dared to ask the pilot 
 of home. The souls of many, which yesterday were full 
 of joy, are now overshadowed with anxiety. They almost 
 hesitate to leave the ship, and pause for some one from 
 the shore to answer those questions of home, and of those 
 they love, which they dare not utter. There are many 
 jo^^ful meetings, and some that are full of sorrow. 
 
 9. Let us follow one of this crew. He is still a youth* 
 Years ago, of a wild and reckless and roving spirit, he 
 left his home. He had fallen into temptations which had 
 been too strong for his feeble virtue. His feet had been 
 familiar with the paths of sin and shame. But, during the 
 present voyage, sickness and reflection have " brought him 
 to himself." Full of remorse for evil courses, and for that 
 parental love which he has slighted, he has said, — " I will 
 arise and go to my fathers house ; " they who gave me 
 birth, shall no longer mourn over me as lost. I will smooth 
 the pathway of age to them, and be the support of their 
 feeble steps. 
 
 10. He is on his way to where they dwell in the country. 
 As the sun is setting, he can see, from an eminence over 
 which the road passes, their sohtary home on a distant hill- 
 
tJNION FIFTH READER. 141 
 
 side. O scene of beauty, such as, to him, no other land 
 can show ! Tliere is the church, here a school-house, and 
 the homes of those whom he knew in childhood. He can 
 see the places where he used to watch the golden sunset, 
 not, as now, with a heari full of penitence, and fear, and 
 sorrow for wasted years, but in the innocent days of youth. 
 There are the pastures and the woods where he wandered, 
 full of the dreams and hopes of childhood, — fond hopes 
 and dreams that have issued in such sad reahties. 
 
 11. The scene to others would be but an ordinary one ; 
 but, to Jiim^ the spirit gives it life. It is covered all over 
 with the golden hues of memory. His heart leaps forward 
 to his home ; but his feet linger. May not death have be6n 
 there' ? May not those lips be hushed in the silence of the 
 grave from which he hoped to hear the words of love and 
 forgiveness'? He pauses on the way, and does not ap- 
 proach till he beholds a light shining through the uncur- 
 tained windows of the humble dwellino;. And even now 
 his hand is drawn back, which was raised to lift the latch. 
 He would see if all are there. With a trembling heart, he 
 looks into the window; and there — blessed sight! — he 
 beholds his mother, busy as was her wont, and his father, 
 only grown more reverend with increasing age, reading 
 that holy book which he had tau£2:ht his son to revere, but 
 which that son had so foro-otten ! 
 
 12. But there were others ; and, lo ! one by one they en- 
 ter, — young sisters, who, when he last saw them, were but 
 children that sat on the knee, but have now grown up 
 almost to womanly years. And now another fear seizes 
 him. How shall they receive him ? May not he be for- 
 gotten^? May they not reject him'? But he will, at 
 least, enter. He raises the latch ; — with a heart too full 
 for utterance, he stands, silent and timid, in the doorway. 
 
142 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 The father raises his head, the mother pauses and turns to 
 look at the guest who enters. It is but a moment, when 
 burst from their hps the fond words of recognition, — 
 ^' My son ! my son ! " 
 
 13. Blessed words, which have told, so fully that nothing 
 remains to be told, the undying' strength of parental love ! 
 To a traveler who might that night have passed this cottage 
 among the hills, if he had observed it at all, it would have 
 spoken of nothing but daily toil, of decent comfort, of ob- 
 scure fortunes. Yet, at that very hour, it was filled with 
 thanksgivings, which rose like incense to the heavens, be- 
 cause that " he who w^as lost was found, and he that was 
 dead was alive afjain." 
 
 14. Thus ever under the visible is the invisible. Through 
 dead material forms circulate the currents of spiritual life. 
 Desert rocks, and seas, and shores, are humanized by the 
 presence of man, and become alive with memories and affec- 
 tions. There is a life which appears^ and under it, in every 
 heart, is a life which does not appear, which is to the former 
 as the depths of the sea to the waves, and the bubbles, and 
 the spray on its surface. There is not an obscure house 
 among the mountains, v/here the v/hole romance of life, 
 from its dawn to its setting, through its brightness and 
 through its gloom, is not lived through. 
 
 15. The commonest events of the day are products of 
 the same passions and affections, Avhich, in other spheres, 
 decide the fate of kingdoms. Outwardly, the ongoings of 
 ordinary life are like the movements of machinery, lifeless, 
 mechanical, commonplace repetitions- of the came trifling 
 events. But they arc neither lifeless, nor old, nor trifling* 
 The passions and afxections make them ever new and orig- 
 inal, and the most unimportant acts of the day reach for- 
 ward, in their results, into the shadows of eternity. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 143 
 
 LESSOJSr XXXYIII. 
 
 * Lu' NA CY, a species of insanity or madness ; properly, the kind of insani- 
 ty which is broken by intervals of reason, formerly supposed to hava 
 been influenced by the moon, (luna,) from which lunacy is derived. 
 
 WHEN I AM OLD. 
 
 CAROLINE A. BRIGGS. 
 
 1. ' ^TTHEN I am old, (and, oh ! how soon 
 f f Will life's sweet morning yield to noon. 
 And noon's broad, fervid, earnest light 
 Be shaded in the solemn night, 
 Till, like a story well-nigh told, 
 Will seem my life when I am old !) 
 
 2. When I am old, this breezy earth 
 Will lose for me its voice of mirth ; 
 The streams will have an undertone 
 Of sadness not by right their own ; 
 And Spring's sweet power in vain unfold 
 In rosy charms, — when I am old. 
 
 3. When I am old, I shall not care 
 
 To deck with flowers my faded hair ; 
 'Twill be no vain desire of mine 
 In rich and costly dress to shine ; 
 Bright jewels and the brightest gold 
 Will charm me naught, — when I am old. 
 
 4. When I am old," my friends will be 
 Old and infirm ^nd bowed like me ; 
 Or else (their bodies 'neath the sod. 
 Their spirits dwelling safe with God) 
 The old church-bell will long have tolled 
 Above the rest, — when I am old. 
 
144 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. Wlien I am old, I'd rather bend 
 Thus sadly o'er each buried friend 
 Than see them lose the earnest truth 
 That marks the friendship of our youth : 
 'Twill be so sad to have them cold 
 
 Or strange to me, — when I am old ! 
 
 6. When I am old, — oh ! how it seems 
 Like the wild lunacy^ of dreams 
 
 To picture in prophetic rhyme 
 That dim, far-distant, shadowy time, — 
 So distant that it seems o'er-bold 
 Even to sot/, — " When I am old ! " 
 
 7. When I am old ? — Perhaps ere then 
 I shall be missed from haunts of men ; 
 Perhaps my dwelling will be found 
 Beneath the green and quiet mound ; 
 My name by stranger hands enrolled 
 Among the dead, — ere I am old. 
 
 8. ^re lam old? — That time is now ; 
 For youth sits lightly on my brow ; 
 
 My limbs are firm, and strong, and free ; 
 Life hath a thousand charms for me, — 
 Charms that will loner their influence hold 
 Within my heart, — ere I am old. 
 
 9. Ere I am old^ oh ! let me give 
 My life to learning how to live : 
 Then shall I meet, with willing heart, 
 An early summons to depart. 
 
 Or find my lengthened days consoled 
 By God's sweet peace, — when I am old. 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 145 
 
 LESSON XXXIX. 
 
 ^ Frank'' LIN, Benjamix, was bom in Boston, Mass., Jan. 6, 1706; and 
 died in Philadelphia, April 17, 1790. His name has long been a house- 
 hold word in America. He was her moralist, statesman, and philoso- 
 pher. His discovery of the identity of lightning with electricity has 
 obtained for him a lasting and world -renowned reputation. 
 
 A RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW. 
 
 THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 1. A WHEN I was a tiny boy, 
 
 \J, My days and nights were full of joy. 
 
 My mates were blithe and kind ! 
 No wonder that I sometimes sigh, 
 And dash the tear-drop from my eye, 
 To cast a look behind ! 
 
 2. A hoop was an eternal round 
 
 Of pleasure. In those days I found 
 
 A top a joyous thing ; 
 But now those past delights I drop ; 
 My head, alas ! is all my top. 
 
 And careful thoughts the strino; ! 
 
 3. My kite, how fast and far it flew ! 
 While I, a sort of Franklin,^ drew 
 
 My pleasure from the sky ! 
 'Twas papered o'er with studious themes, 
 The tasks I wrote, — my present dreams 
 
 Will never soar so high ! 
 
 4. My joys are wingless all, and dead ; 
 My dumps are made of more than lead ; 
 
 My flights soon find a fall ; 
 7 
 
146 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 My fears prevail ; my fancies droop ; 
 Joy never cometh Avith a hoop, 
 And seldom with a call ! 
 
 6. My football's laid upon the shelf; 
 I am a shuttlecock myself, 
 
 The world knocks to and fro ; 
 My archery is all unlearned. 
 And grief against myself has turned 
 My arrows and my bow ! 
 
 6. No more in noontide sun I bask ; 
 My authorship's an endless task ; 
 
 My head's ne'er out of school ; 
 Mv heart is pained with scorn and sliglit ; 
 I have too luany foes to fight. 
 
 And friends grow strangely cool I 
 
 7. No skies so blue or so serene 
 
 As then ; no leaves look half so green. 
 
 As clothed the play-ground tree : 
 All things I loved are altered so ; 
 Nor does it ease my heart to know 
 
 That change resides in me ! 
 
 8. O for the garb that marked the boy, 
 The trousers made of corduroy. 
 
 Well inked with black and red ; 
 The crownless hat, ne'er deemed an illj — 
 It only let the sunshine still 
 
 Repose upon my head ! 
 
 9. O for the lessons learned by heart ! 
 Ay, though the very birch's smart 
 
 Should mark those hours again, , 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 14? 
 
 I'd " kiss the rod," and be resigned 
 Beneath the stroke, and even find 
 Some sugar in the cane I 
 
 10. When that I was a tiny boy, 
 
 My (lays and nights. Avere full of jo}^, 
 
 My mates were blithe and kind ! 
 No wonder that I sometimes sigli. 
 And dash the tear-drop from my eye, 
 
 To cast a look behind ! 
 
 LESSON" XL. 
 
 'Top'- GAL LANT, situated above tho top-mast, and below the royal-mast, 
 
 being the third of the kind in order from the deck. 
 2 Cross'- TREE, a piece of timber, supported by the trestle-trees at the upper 
 
 end of the lower masts, to sustain the frame of the top, and on the top- 
 masts to extend the top-gallant shrouds. 
 ^ Ka nack' a, a native of the Sandwich Islands. 
 * Lee' ward, that part toward which the wind blows. 
 ^ Kat' lines, small lines traversing the shrouds of a ship, making the steps 
 
 of a ladder for ascending to the mast-head. 
 ^ Main' yard, the yard on which the mainsail is extended, supported by tho 
 
 mainmast. 
 ^ Back'- STAYS, long ropes or stays extending from the top-mastheads to 
 
 both sides of a ship, to assist the shrouds in supporting the masts. 
 ^ Star' board, being or lying on the right side. 
 •* Log' ger head, a piece of round timber, in a whale-boat, over which thii 
 
 Una is passed, to make it run more slowly. 
 
 TAKING A WHALE. 
 
 n. starbuck. 
 
 EARLY one morning, while we were cruising off th(5 
 coast of Peru for sperm-whales, I was dozing on 
 the main-top-gallant ^ cross-trees.^ Suddenly something 
 seemed to ring through my brain. I awoke to discover 
 
148 SANDEBS' UKIOK SERIES. 
 
 tliat it Avas the wild voice of Zadik, the captain's har- 
 pooner, a tall, swarthy, straight-haired youth, half Ka- 
 nacka,^ half English. He was very tender-hearted, but 
 an excellent whaleman, whose power of vision was truly 
 remarkable. He stood on the other side of me, shrieking 
 with all the force of his lungs, " There blows ! — there 
 blows ! — there — there — there blows ! '* 
 
 2. " Where away ? " thundered old Captain Boom, 
 glancing aloft. 
 
 " On the weather-bow, four miles off, heading to lee- 
 ward!"* 
 
 This answer sent an electric thrill through every vein : 
 the old ship lurched as if she felt it too. Up came old 
 Boom, with spy-glass slung over his shoulder, mounting 
 two ratlines^ at a time. When on the cross-trees, he just 
 gave one squint with his telescope ; then his voice rang 
 through the ship like the notes of a trumpet : — 
 
 3. "Back the mainyard^ 1 — clear away the boats!" 
 It would have done you good to see the men jump to falls 
 and braces. The ship came up slowly, and Boom went 
 speedily down by means of a back-stay.'^ 
 
 Zadik, following him, sprang like a deer into the star- 
 board^ boat. 
 
 " Lower away ! " ordered the captain. Buzz-z-z ! buzz ! 
 buzz-z-z 1 sounded the falls ; and splash went the four boats 
 almost simultaneously into the water. 
 
 4. The merry lads bundled into them, and away they 
 flew, the captain's taking the lead. 
 
 "Snap your oars! Make the fire fly! Long and 
 strong's the word ! Bend your backs, every one of ye ! " 
 exclaimed the old captain. 
 
 In a similar manner the other officers encouraged their 
 crews, until they had proceeded about four miles, when 
 orders were given to stop pulling. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 149 
 
 5. " None of your venturesome pranks, Thomas ; if you 
 get alongside a whale," said the skipper to his son, a lad 
 of fifteen, who belonged in the first mate's boat, ''you'll 
 have need of all your dexterity." 
 
 Thomas, the ship's favorite, smiled, and shook his curly 
 head. At the same moment, the water broke into a whirl- 
 pool a few fathoms astern. There was a hurried wdiisper- 
 ing; then the boats were forced round, as a very small 
 whale — a calf — rose to the surface. 
 
 6. We perceived at once that the creature had been 
 struck by some other crew ; for the shank of an iron pro- 
 truded from its body. It seemed very w^eak, and in much 
 pain, moving slowly, and now and then reeling sideways 
 with a sudden plunge. It swam in a circle, as if bewil- 
 dered ; and the noise of its spouting somehow reminded 
 me of the, wailing of a child. 
 
 " Paddle ahead ! " was the order ; for every man be- 
 lieved that the mother of the calf, the cow-whale, was not 
 far off. 
 
 The first mate was soon within darting distance. 
 
 "Give it to him!" he shrieked, and whiz! went the 
 harpooner's iron into the animal's body. 
 
 7. For a few moments the little whale, as if half stupe- 
 fied, remained nearly motionless ; then it came down, 
 writhing and whirling its flukes in great agony ; after 
 which it sounded. It was too weak to drag the boat very 
 fast or very far ; and it soon rose about fifty yards ahead. 
 
 " Haul line ! " ordered the mate, now in the boat's bow, 
 with lance in hand. 
 
 As he spoke, the water on one side of the calf suddenly 
 parted with a roar like a cataract, and an enormous levia- 
 than, the cow-whale, boomed up from the surface, beating 
 the sea with her flukes, and spouting furiously. 
 
160 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 8. Round and round her offspring she swam ; but soon 
 paused, as if half paralyzed with astonishment and grief at 
 the situation of the sufferer. A moment she remained 
 thus, then moved ahead slowly and gently, occasionally 
 turning, as if to entice the little creature to follow. In 
 fact the calf endeavored to do so, but was too badly crip- 
 pled to swim ; it made a few feeble plunges toward its par-^ 
 ent, and then began to writhe and wheel in great agony. 
 Perceiving that it was now in its flurry, the mate stopped 
 hauling line, and remained watching the animal until its 
 blood-red spoutings no longer rose, and it rolled over quite 
 dead. 
 
 9. The conduct of its mother was pitiful to witness. 
 She seemed unwilling to believe that her young was really 
 dead. Round it she slowl^^ swam, spouting with a noise 
 something between a shriek and a gasp. Then she moved 
 ahead as before, and, like one half crazed, seemed not 
 yet to have abandoned the hope of being followed by 
 her offspring. Meanwhile her enemies were rapidly but 
 stealthily advancing. Soon the captain, who was foremost, 
 was near enough to dart. 
 
 " Let her have ! " he exclaimed. Zadik raised his har- 
 poon ; at the same moment the cow gently rubbed her- 
 great head against the little whale, as if to ascertain the 
 reason why it would not follow her. 
 
 10. Zadik lowered the point of his weapon ; his wild 
 eyes softened. 
 
 " That whale is just like a human mother, captain," said 
 he, " and I haven't the heart to strike it ! " 
 
 " Why, Zadik, what ails ye ? Dart ! dart ! I tell ye ! " 
 As he spoke, a sudden cliange d'sune over the whale, 
 which now, half turning, saw the boat. Wrathful and 
 wild fqr revenge, she threw the whole length of her enor- 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 151 
 
 mous body out of water ; then, falling back with the din 
 of a cataract, she made straight for the boat, her bristhng 
 jaws wide open, and her broad flukes beating the sea ! 
 
 11. " Stern ! stern ! " shouted old Boom; and every man 
 of his crew, except Zadik, turned pale. 
 
 The harpooner had changed with the leviathan. The 
 flush of fight was now on his cheek, and there was fire in 
 his eye. His dark brow was wrinkled ; the ends of his 
 straight, black hair bristled like spgar-points. He motioned 
 to the captain to keep off a little, and, being obeyed, sent 
 both irons whizzing into the side of the monster ! 
 
 12. Maddened with pain, fiercer than ever, the whale 
 made a swift dash toward the boat, which she must have 
 grappled, had not the captain, by a dexterous movement, 
 whirled the light vessel to one side. Thus baffled, the 
 monster descended, shaking a savage warning with her 
 flakes as she disappeared. Away went the boat swift as a 
 whirlwind, the line humming around the loggerhead,^ and 
 the crew cheering lustily in answer to the cheers of those 
 who were pulling after them. 
 
 13. Zadik and the captain changed places, and the " old 
 lion," as we called Boom, soon had his lance ready. The 
 whale came up a quarter of an hour later, and " Haul 
 line ! " was the order. When within darting distance, the 
 skipper sent his long weapon into the monster's body. 
 Enraged beyond all bounds, she came dashing toward us 
 in a cloud of whirling spray tossed by her enormous 
 flukes. 
 
 14. " Stern ! stern ! " ordered the captain. 
 
 Thicker and faster flew the spray, almost hiding the ani- 
 mal from us, until suddenly we saw its great head, with 
 the bristling jaws, bursting from the white foam-cloud, 
 within six inches of the skipper 1 Had the nerves of 
 
152 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Zadik failed him, the old man must have perished the next 
 minute. But the voice of the Kanacka rang like the clang 
 of a hammer, as with ready steering-oar he whirled the 
 boat's broadside toward the monster, and then gave the 
 order to "Stern!" 
 
 15. Snap went the monster's closing jaws, just missing 
 the boat's bow ! and whiz-z-z went the old captain's lance 
 again into her body ! 
 
 As she dashed furiously toward us, our shipmates arrived 
 to take part in the combat. The first mate, who had left 
 the calf to be towed by an extra boat's crew from the ship, 
 attacked the monster on one flank, while the captain and 
 his second and third mates battled desperately upon the 
 other. The cheers of the men, the crashing of the whale's 
 flukes, mingling with wild cries, were heard on all sides ; 
 while so thick was the spray that no man could see his 
 neighbor distinctly. 
 
 16. Vigorously pressed, with lance after lance piercing 
 her body, the whale soon acknowledged the power of her 
 assailants by sending up into the spray-cloud a light-red 
 fountain of blood ! With exultant screams, the lancers, 
 still attacking, buried their weapons in her writhing body, 
 from which the spout rose darker and lower every mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Suddenly, with one tremendous whirl of her flakes, she 
 struck the first mate's boat, shivering it to atoms ! Then 
 slowly round and round she swam, the dark blood-spout 
 now ascending scarcely six inches. Finally, half lifting her 
 flukes and head in one last spasm of agony, she expired ! 
 
 17. The first mate's crew, being good swimmers, had 
 not yet been picked up : for the captain had been too busy 
 to notice wJiicJi vessel was wrecked. As the poor fellows 
 were helped into his boat, he looked in vain for his son. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 153 
 
 The sad story was soon told, (p^-) Poor little Thomas 
 was far down under the sea, whither his frame, crushed by 
 the whale's flukes, had been dragged by sharks. 
 
 18. The captain groaned, and bowed his head. He did 
 not lift it until we were alongside the ship. While we 
 were cutting up the whale, we looked in vain for him. 
 
 " He is down in the cabin," said the mate, " weeping 
 and sobbing like a child. He will never be a happy man 
 again ! " 
 
 ''Ay, ay," said Zadik gloomily. "I felt as if no good 
 would come of our striking that wdiale ! We killed her 
 offspring, and she killed the captain's son I " 
 
 LESSON" XLI. 
 
 ^ Le vi' a THAN" here means the great whale. 
 
 ^ Mad' re pore, species of coral which usually branch like trees and 
 shrubs, and have the surface covered with small prominences, each 
 containini^ a cell. 
 
 ^ Phos piior es' cexce, a shining with a faint light; state of being lumi- 
 nous Avithout sensible heat. 
 
 * Cacii'a lot, {cash' a lot,) the sperm-whale. It has in its head a large 
 
 cavity, in which is collected an oily fluid, which, after death, concretes 
 into a granulated, yellowish substance, called spermaceti. 
 ^ Basques, [Basks,) an ancient and peculiar people, living on the slopes of 
 the Pyrenees Mountains. 
 
 * Tun' NY, a large fish of the mackerel species. Its flesh is considered 
 
 excellent food. Tunnies weighing over a thousand pounds are quit« 
 common in the Mediterranean. 
 
 LEVIATHAN, OR THE GREAT WHALE. 
 
 from the FRENCH OF MICHELET. 
 
 " rpHE fisherman belated at night in the North Sea," 
 
 jL says Milton, " saw an isle, which, like the back of 
 
 a mountain, lay upon the water ; and in that isle he fast- 
 
154 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ened his anchor. The isle fled, and carried him away. 
 That isle was Leviathan." ^ Captain Durville was simi- 
 larly though not so fatally deceived. He saw at a dis- 
 tance an elevation on the water, Avh'ich appeared to be a 
 bank with breakers and eddies all around it, and certain 
 patches upon it looked like rocks. 
 
 2. Above and around this seemin*]!: bank, the swallow 
 and the stormy petrel raced and sported. The bank looked 
 venerably gray, covered as it was with shells and madre- 
 pores.^ But the mighty mass suddenly moved, and two 
 enormous columns of water, which it threw high into the 
 air, revealed the awakened whale. 
 
 3. Whales are given to companionship. Formerly they 
 were seen sailing along, not only in pairs, but occasicmally 
 in large families of ten or twelve in the solitary seas. 
 Nothing exceeded the grandeur of those vast and living 
 fleets, sometimes lighted up by their own phosphoresence,^ 
 and throwing columns of Avater to the higlit of thirty or 
 forty feet, which, in the polar seas, smoked as it rose. 
 
 4. They would approach a vessel peaceably and in evi- 
 dent curiosity, looking upon her as some specimen of a 
 new. and strange species of fish ; and they sported around, 
 and welcomed the visitor. In their joy they raised them- 
 selves half upright, and then fell down again with a stun- 
 ning noise, making a boiling gulf as they sank. Their 
 innocent familiarity went so far, that they sometimes 
 touched the ship or her boats, — an imprudent confidence 
 which was most cruelly deceived. In less than a century, 
 the great species of the whale have almost disappeared. 
 
 5. Whales have always been very numerous in the 
 Greenland seas, — a grand object of desire to those to 
 whom oil is a thing of very first necessity. The fish gives 
 it by drops, the seal by gallons, the whale by hogsheads I 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 155 
 
 He Avas truly a bold man who first, with his poor weap- 
 ons, with the sea howling at his feet, and the darkness 
 closing around him, dared to pursue the whale ! 
 
 6. A bold man was he, who, trusting to his courage, the 
 strength of his arm, and the weight of his harpoon, first 
 believed that he could pierce that mighty mass of blubber 
 and flesh, and convert it to his own profit ! A daring 
 man was li3 who first imagined that he could attack the 
 whale, and not perish in the tempest that would be raised 
 by the pl-unges and terrific blows of the astonished and 
 suffering monster ! And, as if to crown his audacity, the 
 man next fastened a line to his harpoon, and, braving still 
 more closely the frightful shock of the agonized and dying 
 giant, never once feared that that giant might plunge head- 
 long into the deep, taking with him harpoon, line, boat, 
 and man ! 
 
 7. There is still another danger, and no less terrible. 
 It is, that, instead of meeting the common whale, that 
 brave man should flill in with the cachalot,* the terror of 
 the seas. He is not very large, — perhaps not more than 
 from sixty to eighty feet long ; but his head alone measures 
 about one-third the length of the body. In case of such a 
 meeting, woe to the fisher ! he would become the chased 
 instead of the chaser, the victim instead of the tyrant. 
 
 8. The cachalot has horrible jaws, and no less than 
 forty-eight enormous teeth. He could, with ease, devour 
 all, — both man and boat; and he seems always drunk 
 with blood. His blind raoje so terrifies all the other 
 whales, Ihat they escape, bellowing, throwing themselves 
 on the shore, or striving to hide themselves in the sand. 
 Even when he is dead, they still fear him, and will not 
 approach his carcass. 
 
 9. Many think that those intrepid men who first under- 
 
156 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 took SO perilous a task as that of wliale-fishing, must have 
 been eccentric enthusiasts ; and that an undertakino; so 
 hazardous could never have originated with the prudent 
 men of the North, but must have been initiated by the 
 Basques/ those daring hunters and fishers, who were so 
 well accustomed to their own capricious sea, where they 
 fished the tunny .^ Here they first saw the huge whales 
 at play, and pursued them, frenzied by the hope of such 
 enormous prey; onward, and still onward^ no matter 
 whither, — even to the confines of the pole. ' 
 
 10. Here^ doubtless, the poor whale fancied it must be 
 safe from its relentless pursuers. But our Basque madcaps 
 followed it even into those frozen regions. Tightening his 
 red belt around his waist, he stealthily and silently ap- 
 proaches the unconscious, sleeping monster, and fearlessly 
 plunges the harpoon into its very vitals. Poor whale ! 
 He falls a victim to the selfishness and rapacity of man ! 
 Such achievements afford a striking proof of the wonderful 
 powers of the human mind, in holding dominion, not only 
 over the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field, but 
 also over the mighty monsters of the deep. 
 
 LESSON XLII. 
 
 * Gal I le'o, Galilei, a distinguished astronomer, was bom at Pisa, in 
 Italy, July 15, 1564; and died Jan. 8, 1642. In 1592, he was ap- 
 pointed professor of mathematics in the University of Padua. Hero 
 he became a convert to the Copemican system of the universe ; and, by 
 means of a leaden tube and two spectacle glasses, he obtained a crude 
 telescope of only threefold magnifying power. Subsequently he made 
 two others, one magnifying e/^rA?, and the other thhii/ times. With these 
 he discovered the mountains and cavities in the Moon, the four satel- 
 lites of Jupiter, and the rings of Saturn. But prejudice and ignorance 
 were combined against him. He was charged with heresy, imprisoned. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 157 
 
 and compelled to recant his opinions ; but he stamped his foot, and 
 exclaimed, — "77ie earth moves, for all that ! " 
 * Kep' ler, John, a celebrated mathematician and astronomer, was born at 
 Weil, in Wirtemberg, Dec. 21, 1571 ; and died Nov. 5, 1631. During 
 his life he published thirty-three separate works, among which his 
 " New Astronomy," and the " Harmonies of the World," are the most 
 remarkable. The latter work contains his celebrated law, that the 
 squares of the periodic times of the planets are as the cubes of their 
 distances ; but, from a blunder in his calculations, he rejected it. Hav- 
 ing discovered his error, he recognized with transport the absolute truth 
 of a principle, which, for seventeen years, had been the object of liis 
 incessant pursuit. He was almost frantic with joy, and exclaimed, — 
 " The die is cast ! The book is written to be read, either now or by pos- 
 terity, I care not which ! It may well wait a century for a reader, as 
 God has waited six thousand years for an observer ! " 
 
 THE GAME OF LIFE. 
 
 J. G. SAXE. 
 
 1. rpHERE'S a game much in fashion, — I think it's 
 _L called Eucher^ 
 
 (Though I never have played it for pleasure or lucre,) 
 In which, when the cards are in certain conditions, 
 The plajers appear to have changed their positions, 
 And one of them cries, in a confident tone, — 
 *' I think I may venture to go it alone T'' 
 
 2. While watching the game, 'tis a whim of tlie bard's 
 A moral to draw from the skirmish of cards. 
 
 And to fancy he sees in the trivial strife 
 Some excellent hints for the hattle of Life ; 
 Where, whether the prize he a ribbon or throne. 
 The ivinner is he who can " go it alone! '^ 
 
 3. When great Galileo^ proclaimed that the world 
 In a regular orbit was ceaselessly whirled, 
 
158 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And got not a convert for all of liis pains, 
 But only derision, and prison, and chains, — 
 "jT^ moves^ for all that!'^ was his answering tone ; 
 For he knew, like the Earth, he could "yo it alone /^^ 
 
 4. When Kepler,^ with intellect piercing afar. 
 Discovered the laws of each planet and star. 
 And doctors, who ought to have lauded his name, 
 Derided his learning, and blackened his fame, 
 " I can wait,'' he replied, " till the truth you shall 
 
 own ; " 
 For he felt in his heart he could "^o it alone/'* 
 
 6. Alas for the player who idly depends. 
 
 In the struggle of life, upon kindred and friends I 
 Whatever the value of blessings like these, 
 They can never atone for inglorious ease ; 
 Nor comfort the coward, who finds, with a groan. 
 That his crutches have left him to " ^o it alone/'' 
 
 6. There's something, no doubt, in the hand you may hold ; 
 Health, family, culture, Avit, beauty, and gold. 
 
 The fortunate owner may fairly regard 
 
 As, each in its w^ay, a most excellent card ; 
 
 Yet the game may be lost Avith all these for your OAvn, 
 
 Unless you've the courage to ^' ^o it alone/" 
 
 7. In battle or business, whatever the game, 
 In law or in love, it is ever the same ; 
 
 In the struggle for power, or the scramble for pelf, 
 Let this be your motto, — ''^Rely on yourself /" 
 For, whether the prize be a ribbon or throne, 
 The victor is he who can "^o it alone/" 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 159 
 
 LESSON XLIIL 
 
 KEEP IN STEP. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 Those who would walk together, must keep in step. — Old Proverb. 
 
 1. AY, the world keeps moving forward, 
 I\ Like an army marching by : 
 Hear you not its heavy footfall 
 
 That resoundeth to the sky' ? 
 Some bold spirits bear the banner, 
 
 Souls of sweetness chant the song, 
 Lips of energy and fervor 
 
 Make the timid-hearted strong ! 
 Like brave soldiers, we march forward : 
 
 If you linger or turn back, 
 You must look to get a jostling 
 
 While you stand upon our track. 
 Keep in step ! 
 
 2. My good noiglibor, Master Standstill, 
 
 Gazes on it as it goes, 
 Kot quite sure but he is dreaming 
 
 In his afternoon's repose. 
 " Nothing good," he says, '' can issue 
 
 From this endless ' moving on ; ' 
 Ancient laws and institutions 
 
 Are decaying, or are gone. 
 "We are rushino; on to ruin 
 
 With our mad, new-fangled ways.'* 
 While he speaks, a thousand voices, 
 
 As the heart of one man, say, — 
 " Keep in step ! " 
 
160 SAKDERS' TTNION SERIES. 
 
 3. Be assured, good Master Standstill, 
 
 All-wise Providence designed 
 Aspiration and progression 
 
 For the yearning human mind. 
 Generations left their blessings 
 
 In the relics of their skill ; 
 Generations yet are longing 
 
 For a greater glory still. 
 And the shades of our forefathers 
 
 Are not jealous of our deed : 
 We but follow where they beckon, 
 
 We but go w^here they do lead ! 
 Keep in step 1 
 
 4. One detachment of our army 
 
 May encamp upon the hill, 
 AYhile another in the valley 
 
 May enjoy " its own sweet will : '' 
 Tliis may answer to one ^vatchw^ord, 
 
 That may echo to another ; 
 But in unity and concord, 
 
 They discern that each is brother ! 
 Breast to breast they're marching onward 
 
 In a good and peaceful way : 
 You'll be jostled if you hinder, 
 
 So don't offer let or stay: 
 Keep in step ! 
 
 LESSON XLIY. 
 
 1 Shak'speare, William. See note, p. 106. 
 Ark' WRIGHT, Sir Richard, was born in Preston in 1 732. When thirty- 
 five years of age, he devoted his attention to the subject of inven- 
 tions for spinning cotton. Mills for spinning cotton by his machinery 
 
UNION FIFTH* READER. 161 
 
 were first erected in Nottingham. The system has been universally 
 adopted, and, in all its main features, remains unaltered to the present 
 time. Out of his invention have grown up the largest manufacture, 
 the largest trade, the largest revenue, some of the largest cities, and tho 
 
 ' largest national prosperity, in the world. Although defrauded out of 
 his patent right, yet by indomitable energy he turned the tide of pros- 
 perity and wealth to his own advantage, and left a large fortune to his 
 heirs. 
 
 Co lum'bus, Christopher, the discoverer of America in 1492, was born 
 in Genoa, Italy, 1436 ; and died May 20, 1506. 
 
 ENCOURAGEMENTS IN THE PURSUIT OF KNOWL- • 
 
 EDGE. 
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 
 
 AN idea, I fear, prevails, that truths are obvious enough 
 in themselves, but that they apply only to men of ht- 
 erary education, — to professional characters, and persons 
 of fortune and leisure ; and that it is out of the power 
 of the other classes of society, and those who pass most of 
 their time in manual labor and mechanical industry, to 
 engage in the pursuit of knowledge with any hope of being 
 useful to themselves and others. 
 
 2. This I believe to be a great error. What is it that 
 we wish to improve ? The mind. Is this a thing mo- 
 nopolized by any class of society^ ? God forbid ! it is the 
 heritage with which he has endow^ed all tlie children of 
 the great family of man. Is it a treasure belonging to the 
 wealthy' ? It is talent bestowed alike on rich and poor,' 
 high and low. But this is not all : mind is, in all men, 
 and in every man, the same active, living, and creative 
 principle ; it is tlie man himself. 
 
 3. One of the renowned philosophers of heathen antiq-= 
 uity beautifully said of the intellectual faculties, — "I call 
 them not mine^ but mey It is these which make the man, 
 which are the man. I do not say that opportunities, that 
 wealth, leisure, and great advantages for education, are 
 
 11 
 
162 SANDEES' UNIOK SEEIES. 
 
 nothing : but I ch say, they are much less than is com- 
 monly supposed ; I do say, as a general rule, that the 
 amount of useful knowledge which men acquire, and the 
 good they do with it, are by no means in direct proportion 
 to the degree to which they have enjoyed what are com- 
 monly called the great advantages of life. 
 
 4. Wisdom does sometimes, but not most commonly, 
 feed her children with a silver spoon. I believe it is per- 
 fectly correct to say, that a small proportion only of those 
 who have been most distinguished for the improvement of 
 their minds have enjoyed the best advantages for educa- 
 tion. I do not mean to detract^ in the least degree, from 
 the advantag3s of the various seminaries for learning which 
 public and private liberality has founded in our country. 
 They serve as places where a large number of persons are 
 prepared for their employment in the various occupations 
 which the public service requires. 
 
 5. But, I repeat it, of the ^reat benefactors of our race, 
 the men who, by wonderful inventions, remarkable dis- 
 coveries, and extraordinary improvements, have conferred 
 the most eminent service on their fellow-men, and gained 
 the highest names in history, by far the greater part 
 have been men of humble origin, narrow fortunes, small 
 advantages, and self-tauo;ht. 
 
 6. And this springs from the nature of the mind of man, 
 which is not, like natural things, a vessel to be filled up 
 from without ; into which you may pour a little or pour 
 much, and then measure, as with a gauge, the degrees of 
 knowledge imparted. The knowledge that can be so im~ 
 parted is the least valuable kind of knowledge ; and the 
 man who has nothing but this, may be very learned, but can 
 not be very wise. In this great respect, — the most im- 
 portant that touches human condition, — loe are all equal. 
 
UNION FIFTH BEADER. 1G3 
 
 T. It is not more true, tliat all men possess the same 
 natural senses and organs, than that their minds are en- 
 dowed with the same capacities for improvement, though 
 not, perliaps, all in the same degree. Shakspeare,^ whose 
 productions have been the wonder and delight of all who 
 speak the English language, for two hundred years, was a 
 runaway youth, the son of a wool-comber; and Sir Rich- 
 ard Arkwright,^ who invented the machinery for spinning 
 cotton, was the youngest of thirteen children of a poor 
 peasant, and, till he was thirty years of age, followed the 
 business of a traveling barber. 
 
 8. As men bring into the world with them an equal 
 intellectual endowment^ that is, minds equally susceptible 
 of improvement, so, in a community like that in which we 
 have the happiness to live, the means of improvement are 
 much more equally enjoyed than might at first be sup- 
 posed. Whoever has learned to read, possesses the keys 
 of Knowdedge ; and can, whenever he pleases, not only 
 unlock the portals of her temple, but penetrate to the 
 inmost halls and most sacred cabinets. A few dollars, the 
 surplus of the earnings of the humblest industry, are suffi- 
 cient to purchase the use of books which contain the ele- 
 ments of the whole circle of useful knowledge. 
 
 9. It may be thought that a considerable portion of the 
 community ivant time to attend to the cultivation of their 
 minds. But it is only necessary to make the experiment 
 to find two things : one, how much useful knowledge can 
 be acquired in a very little time ; and the other, how much 
 time can be spared, by good management, out of the busiest 
 day. There are very few pursuits in life whose duties are 
 so incessant that they do not leave a little time, every day, 
 to a man, whose temperate and regular habits allow him 
 the comfort of a clear head and a cheerful temper, in the 
 
164 SAKDEES' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 intervals of occupation ; and then there is one 
 which is redeemed to us, by our blessed religion, from the 
 calls of life, and affords us all time enough for the im- 
 provement of our rational and immortal natures. 
 
 10. There is also a time of leisure, which Providence, 
 in this climate, has secured to almost every man who has 
 any thing which can be called a home ; I mean our long 
 winter evenings. This season seems provided, as if ex- 
 pressly, for the purpose of furnishing those who labor with 
 ample opportunity for the improvement of their minds. 
 The severity of the weather, and the shortness of the days, 
 necessarily limit the portion of time which is devoted to 
 out-door industry ; and there is little to tempt us abroad 
 in search of amusement. 
 
 11. Every thing seems to invite us to employ an hour 
 or two of this calm and quiet season in the acquisition of 
 useful knowledge, and the cultivation of the mind. The 
 noise of life is hushed ; the pavement ceases to resound 
 with the din of laden wheels, and the tread of busy men ; 
 the glaring sun has gone down, and the moon and the 
 stars are left to watch in the lieavens over the slumbers of 
 the peaceful creation. The mind of man should keep its 
 vigils with them ; and while his body is reposing from the 
 labors of the day, and his feelings are at rest from its ex- 
 citements, he should seek, in some amusing and instruct- 
 ive page, a substantial food for the craving appetite 
 for knowledge. 
 
 12. If we needed any encouragement to make these 
 efforts to improve our minds, we might find it in every 
 page of our country's history. Nowhere do we meet with 
 examples, more numerous and more brilliant, of men who 
 have risen above poverty and obscurity, and every disad- 
 vantage, to usefulness and an honorable name- Our whole 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 1G5 
 
 vast continent was added to the geography of the woi'ld 
 by the persevering efforts of a humble Genoese mariner, 
 the great Columbus,^ who, by the steady pursuit of the 
 enlightened conception he had formed of the figure of 
 the earth, before any navigator had acted upon the belief 
 that it was round, discovered the American continent. 
 
 13. He was the son of a Genoese pilot, a pilot and sea- 
 man himself; and, at one period of his melancholy career, 
 was reduced to beg his bread at the doors of the convents 
 in Spain. But he carried within himself, and beneath a 
 humbler exterior, a sinrit for which there was not room in 
 Spain, in Europe, nor in the then known world ; and 
 which led him on to a hiojht of usefulness and fame, 
 beyond that of all the monarchs that ever reigned. 
 
 LESSON XLV. 
 
 * Per ceite', (per, through; ceive, to take,) to take through the medium 
 
 of the senses ; to see ; to diseern. 
 ^ Pre cede', (pre, before; cede, to go,) to go before in order of time. See 
 
 Sanders' Analysis, page 40. 
 8 Mil,' ton, John. See note, p. 107. 
 
 THE CAPACITY OF AN HOUR. 
 
 JOHN FOSTER. 
 
 THE omnipresent Spirit perceives^ all but an infinite 
 number of actions taking place together throughout 
 the different regions of his empire. And, by tlie end of 
 the hour which has just begun, a greater number of opera- 
 tions ivill have been performed^ which, at this moment, have 
 not been performed^ than the collective sum of all that has 
 been done in this world since its creation. 
 
166 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. The Jiour^ just now begun, may be exactly the period 
 for finishing some great plan^ or concluding some great dis- 
 pensation^ which thousands of years or ages have been 
 advancing to its accomplishment. This may be the very 
 hour in which a new world shall originate, or an ancient 
 one sink in ruins. At this hour^ such changes and phe- 
 nomena may be displayed in some parts of the universe 
 as were never presented to the astonishment of the most 
 ancient created minds. 
 
 3. At this very hour the inhabitants of some remote orb 
 may be roused by signs analogous to those which we anti- 
 cipate to precede^ the final judgment, and in order to pre- 
 pare them for such an event. This hour may somewhere 
 be^in or conclude mightier contests than Milton"^ was able 
 to imagine, and contests producing a more stupendous re- 
 sult, — contests^ in comparison with which those which 
 shake Europe are more diminutive than those of the 
 meanest insects. 
 
 4. At this very hour thousands of amazing enterprises 
 may be undertaken, and, by the end of it, a progress 
 made, which, to us, would have seemed to require ages. 
 At this hour wise intelligences may terminate long and 
 patient pursuits of knowledge in such discoveries as siiall 
 give a new science to their race. 
 
 6. At this hour a whole race of improved and virtuous 
 beings may be elevated to a higher station in the great 
 system of beings. At this hour some new mode of divine 
 operation, some new law of Nature, which was not re-' 
 quired before, may be introduced into the first trial of 
 its action. 
 
 6. At this hour the most strange suspensions of regular 
 laws may take place at the will of Him that appointed 
 them, for the sake of commanding a solemn attention, and 
 
UNION FIFTH RFADER. 167 
 
 confirming some divine communication by miracles. At 
 this hour the inhabitants of the creation are most certainly 
 performing more actions than any faculty of mind, loss 
 than infinite, can observe or remember. 
 
 7. All this, and incomparably more than all this, a phi- 
 losopher and a Christian would delight to imagine. And 
 all that he can imagine in the widest stretch of thought 
 IS as nothing in comparison with what most certainly takes 
 place in so vast a universe ever^/ hour, and will take place 
 this veri/ hour, in which these faint conjectures are indulged. 
 
 LESSOI^ XLVI. 
 EVENING PRAYER.- 
 
 CHANNING. 
 
 LET US now consider another part of the day which is 
 favorable to the duty of prayer ; avc mean the evening. 
 This season, like the morning, is calm and quiet. Our 
 labors are ended. The bustle of life is gone by. The 
 distracting glare of the day has vanished. The darkness 
 which surrounds us favors seriousness, composure, and 
 solemnity. At night, the earth fades from our sight, and 
 nothing of creation is left to us but the starry heavens, so 
 vast, so magnificent, so serene, as if to guide up our 
 thoughts above all earthly things to God and immortality. 
 
 2. This period should, in part, be given to frayer, as it 
 furnishes a variety of devotional topics and excitements. 
 The evening, is the close of an important division of time, 
 and is, therefore, a fit and natural season for stopping, and 
 looking back on the day. And can Ave ever look back on a 
 day which bears no witness to God, and lays no claim to 
 our gratitude'? Who is it that strengthens us for daily 
 
168 SANDEES' UNION SEBIES.' 
 
 labor, gives us daily bread, continues our friends and com- 
 mon pleasures, and grants us the privilege of retiring, after 
 the cares of the day, to a quiet and beloved home ? 
 
 3. The review of the day will often suggest not only 
 these ordinary benefits, but ^:>eci*Zzar ^;roo/s of God's good- 
 ness, — unlooked-for successes, singular concurrences of 
 favorable events, special blessings sent to our friends, or 
 new and powerful aids to our own virtue, which call for 
 peculiar thankfulness. And shall all these benefits pass 
 away unnoticed' ? Shall w^e retire to repose as insensible 
 as the wearied brute' ? How fit and natural is it to close, 
 with pious acknowledgment, that day which has been filled 
 with Divine beneficence ! 
 
 4. But the evening is the time to review, not only our 
 blessings, but our actions. A reflecting mind will naturally 
 remember, at this hour, that another day is gone, and gone 
 to testify of us to our Judge. How natural and useful to 
 inquire what report it has carried to Heaven ! Perhaps we 
 have the satisfaction of looking back on a day, which, in 
 its general tenor, has been innocent and pure ; which, hav- 
 ing begun with God's praise, has been spent as in His pres- 
 ence ; which has proA^ed the reality of our principles in 
 temptation : and shall such a day end without gratefully 
 acknowledging Him in whose strength we have been 
 strong, and to whom we owe the powers and opportunities 
 of Christian improvement' ? 
 
 5. But no day will present to us recollections of purity 
 unmixed with sin. Conscience, if suffered to inspect faith- 
 fully and speak plainly, will recount irregular desires and 
 defective motives, talents wasted and time misspent ; and 
 shall we let the day pass from us without penitently con- 
 fessing our offenses to Him who has witnessed them, and 
 who has promised pardon to true repentance' ? Shall we 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 169 
 
 retire to rest with a burden of unlamented and nnforgiven 
 guilt upon our consciences' ? Shall we leave these stains 
 to spread over and sink into the soul' ? 
 
 6. A religious recollection of our lives is one of the chief 
 instruments of piety. If possible, no day should end with- 
 out it. If we take no account of our sins on the day on 
 which they are committed, can we hope that they will re- 
 cur to us at a more distant period, that we shall watch 
 against them to-morrow, or that we shall gain the strength 
 to resist them, which we will not implore' ? 
 
 7. The evening is a fit time for prayer, not only as it 
 ends the day, but as it immediately precedes the period of 
 repose. The hour of activity having passed, we are soon 
 to sink into insensibility and sleep. How fit that we resign 
 ourselves to the care of that Being who never sleeps, to 
 Avhom the darkness is as the light, and whose providence is 
 our only safety ! How fit to entreat Him that He would 
 keep us to another day ; or, if our bed should prove our 
 grave, that He would give us a part in the resurrection of 
 the just, and awake us to a purer and immortal life ! Let 
 our prayers, like the ancient sacrifices, ascend morning and 
 evening. Let our days begin and end with God. 
 
 LESSON XLYIL 
 
 THE TIME FOR PRAYER. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1- "TTTHEN is the time for prayer ? 
 
 Y T With the first beams that light the morning sky, 
 Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare, 
 Lift up thy thoughts on high ; 
 8 
 
170 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Commend thy loved ones to His watchful care : 
 Morn is the time for prayer: 
 
 2. And in the noontide hour, 
 
 If worn by toil, or by sad cares oppressed, 
 Then unto God thy spirit's sorrow pour, 
 
 And He will give thee rest ; 
 Thy voice shall reach Him through the fields of air : 
 Noon is the time for prayer. 
 
 8. When the bright sun hath set, 
 
 While eve's bright colors deck the skies. 
 
 When with the loved at home again thou'st met, 
 Then let thy prayers arise 
 
 For those who in thy joys and sorrows share : 
 Eve is the time for prayer. 
 
 4. And when the stars come forth ; 
 
 When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are 
 given, 
 And the deep stillness of the hour gives birth 
 
 To pure, bright dreams of Heaven, — 
 Kneel to thy God, ask strength life's ills to bear : 
 Night is the time for prayer. 
 
 L When is the time for prayer ? 
 
 In every hour^ while life is spared to thee ; 
 In crowds or solitude, in joy or care. 
 
 Thy thoughts should heavenward flee. 
 At rriorn, at noon, and eve, with loved ones there, 
 
 Bend thou the knee in prayer ! 
 
tJNION FIFTH BEADEB. 171 
 
 LESSON XLVIII. 
 ONE BY ONE. 
 
 ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. 
 
 1. /^NE by one the sands are flowing ; 
 \J One by one the moments fall ; 
 Some are coming, some are going : 
 
 Do not strive to grasp them all. 
 
 2. One by one thy duties wait thee ; 
 
 Let thy whole strength go to each ; 
 Let no future dreams elate thee : 
 
 Learn thou first what these can teach. 
 
 3. One by one, (briglit gifts from Heaven,) 
 
 Joys are sent thee here below : 
 Take them readily when given, 
 Ready, too, to let them go. 
 
 4. One by one thy griefs shall meet thee ; ' 
 
 Do not fear an armed band ; 
 One will fade as others ojreet thee, — 
 Shadows passing through the land. 
 
 6. Do not look at life's long sorrow ; 
 
 See how small each moment's pain : 
 God will help thee for to-morrow ; 
 So each day begin again. 
 
 6. Every hour that fleets so slowly 
 Has its task to do or bear ; 
 Luminous the crown, and holy. 
 When each orem is set with care. 
 
17^ SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 7. Do not linger with regretting, 
 
 Or for passing hours despond ; 
 Nor, tlie daily toil forgetting, 
 Look too eagerly beyond. 
 
 8. Hours are golden links, God's token. 
 
 Reaching Heaven ; but, one by one, 
 Take them, lest the chain be broken 
 Ere the pilgrimage be done. 
 
 LESSON XLIX. 
 
 •Nep' tune, (the son of Saturn and Ops,) the god of the sea, fountains, 
 
 and rivers. He is represented as bearing a trident (a spear with three 
 
 prongs) for a scepter. 
 ' Mer' cu ry (the son of Jupiter and Maia) was the fabled messenger and 
 
 interpreter of the gods, and the god of eloquence and commerce. 
 'Jove, or Ju' pi ter, (the son of Saturn,) was the chief divinity of the 
 
 ancient Romans. 
 
 INVENTIVE GENIUS AND LABOR. 
 
 elihu burritt. 
 
 THE physical necessity of mental activity^ in every prac- 
 tical sense, confers upon the mind the power to deter- 
 mine our stature, strength, and longevity ; to multiply our 
 organs of sense, and increase their capacity, in some cases, 
 to thirty million times their natural power. This capacity 
 of the mind is not a mere prospective possibility ; it is a 
 fact, — a tried, practical fact ; and the human mind is 
 more busy than ever in extending this prerogative. 
 
 2. Let us look in upon man while engaged in the very 
 act of adding to his natural strength these gigantic faculties. 
 See him yonder, bending over his stone mortar, and pound- 
 ing, and thumping, and sweating, to pulverize his flinty 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 173 
 
 grain into a more esculent form. He stops and looks a 
 moment into the precipitous torrent thundering down its 
 rocky channel. There ! A thought has struck him. He 
 begins to whistle : he wliittles some ; for he learned to 
 w] little soon after he learned to breathe. He gears together, 
 some horizontally, and others perpendicularly, a score of 
 little wooden wheels. He sets them agoing, and claps his 
 hands in triumph to see what they would do if a thousand 
 times larger. 
 
 3. Look at him again ! How proudly he stands, with 
 folded arms, looking at the huge things that are working 
 for him ! He has made that wild, raging torrent as tame 
 as his horse. He has tauo-ht it to walk backward and for- 
 ward. He has given it hands, and put the crank of his big 
 wheel into them, and made it turn his ponderous grind- 
 stone. What a taskmaster ! Look at him again ! He is 
 standing on the ocean beach, watching the crested billows 
 as they move in martial squadrons over the deep. He has 
 conceived or heard that richer productions, more delicious 
 fruits and flowers, may be found on yonder invisible shore. 
 In an instant his mind sympathizes with the yearnings of 
 his physical nature. 
 
 4. See ! there is a new thought in his eye. He remem- 
 bers how he first saddled the horse : he now bits and saddles 
 the mountain wave. Not satisfied with taming this proud 
 element, he breaks another into his service. Remembering 
 his mill-dam, he constructs a floating dam of canvas in the 
 air, to harness the winds to his ocean-wa^on. Thus, with 
 his water-horse and air-horse harnessed in tandem* lie 
 drives across the wilderness of waters with a team that 
 would make old Neptune^ hide his diminished head for 
 envy, and sink his clumsy chariot beneath the waves. 
 
 * In tandem, one after another. 
 
174 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. See now ! he wants something else : his appetite for 
 something better than he has, grows upon what he feeds on. 
 The fact is, he has plodded about in his one-horse wagon 
 till he is disgusted with his poor capacity of locpmotion. 
 The wings of Mercury,^ modern eagles, and paper kites, are 
 all too imp'acticable for models. He settles down upon the 
 persuasion that he can make a great Iron Horse, with 
 bones of steel and muscles of brass, that will run against 
 Time with Mercury, or any other winged messenger of 
 Jove,' — the daring man ! 
 
 6. He brings out his huge leviathan upon the track. 
 How the giant creature struts forth from his stable, panting 
 to be gone ! His great heart is a furnace of glowing coals ; 
 his lymphatic blood is boiHng in his veins ; the strength of 
 a thousand horses is nerving his iron sinews. But his mas- 
 ter reins him with one finger^ till the whole of some Western 
 village — men, women, children, and half their homed cat- 
 tle, sheep, poultry, wheat, cheese, and potatoes — has been 
 stowed away in that long train he has harnessed to his 
 foaming: steam-horse. 
 
 7. And now he shouts, interrogatively, " All right' ? " 
 and, applying a burning goad to the huge creature, away it 
 thunders over the iron road, breathing forth fire and smoke 
 in its indignant haste to outstrip the wind. More terrible 
 than the war-horse* in Scripture, clothed with louder thun- 
 der, and emitting a cloud of flame and burning coals from 
 his iron nostrils, he dashes on through dark mountain 
 passes, over jutting precipices and deep ravines. His tread 
 shakes the earth like a traveling Niagara, and the sound 
 of his chariot-wheels warns the people of distant towns that 
 he is coming. 
 
 * tiee syth chap, oi Job, 20-25tU verses. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 175 
 
 LESSON L. 
 THE RESULTS OF WORK. 
 
 DR. J. G. HOLLAND. 
 
 INDEPENDENCE and self-respect are essential to 
 happiness ; and these are never to be attained withoi t 
 earnest work. It is impossible that a man shall be a droncy 
 and go through life without a purpose which contemplates 
 worthy resuhs, and, at the same time, maintain his self- 
 respect. No idle man, however rich he may be, can feel 
 th» genuine independence of him who earns honestly and 
 manfully his daily bread. 
 
 2. The idle man stands outside of God's plan, — outside 
 tbe ordained scheme of things ; and the truest self-respect, 
 the noblest independence, and the most genuine dignity, 
 are not to be found there. The man who does his part in 
 life, who pursues a worthy end, and who takes care of him- 
 self, is the happy man. There is a great deal of cant 
 afloat about the dignity of labor, uttered mostly, perhaps, 
 by those who know little about it experimentally; but 
 labor has a dignity which attaches to little else that is 
 human. 
 
 8. To labor rightly and earnestly is to walk in the 
 golden track that leads to God. It is to adopt the regi- 
 men of manhood and womanhood. It is to come into 
 sympathy with the great struggle of humanity toward per- 
 fection. It is to adopt the fellowship of all the great and 
 good the world has ever known. I suppose that all God's 
 purposes in work are fulfilled in the completion of the dis- 
 cipline of the worker ; and the results of work are doubt- 
 less laid under tribute for this end. 
 
 4. It is in achievement that Work throws off all her re- 
 
176 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 pulsive features, and assumes tlie form and functions of an 
 angel. Before her, like a dissolving scene, the forest fades, 
 with its vvild beasts and its wild men ; and, under her hand, 
 smiling villages rise among the hills and on the plains, and 
 yellow harvests spread the fields with gold. The city, 
 with its docks and warehouses, and churches and palaces, 
 springs, at her bidding, into being. 
 
 5. The trackless ocean mirrors her tireless pinions as 
 she ransacks the climes for the food of commerce, or flames 
 with the torches of her steam-sped messengers. She binds 
 states and marts and capitals together with bars of iron 
 that thunder with the ceaseless rush of life and trade. 
 She pictures all scenes of beauty on canvas, and carves all 
 forms of excellence in marble. Into huge libraries she 
 pours the wealth of countless precious lives. She erects 
 beautiful and convenient homes for men and women to 
 dwell in, and weaves the fibers which Nature prepares mto 
 fabrics for their covering and comfort. 
 
 6. She rears great civilizations that run like mountain- 
 ranges through the level countries, their summits sleeping 
 among the clouds, or still flaming with the fire that fills 
 them, or looming grandly in the purple haze of history. 
 Nature furnishes material, and Work fashions it. By the 
 hand of Art, Work selects, and molds, and modifies, and 
 recombines that which it finds, and gives utterance and 
 being to those compositions of matter and of thought 
 which build for man a new world, with special adaptation 
 to his desires, tastes, and necessities. Man's record 
 upon this wild world is the record of ivorh^ and of work 
 alone. 
 
 7. Work explores the secrets of the universe, and brings 
 back those contributions which make up the sum of human 
 knowledge. It counts the ribs of the mountains, and feels 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 177 
 
 the pulses of the sea, and traces the foot-paths of the stars, 
 and calls the animals of the forest, and the birds of the 
 air, and the flowers of the field, by name. It summons 
 horses of fire and chariots of fire from heaven, and makes 
 them the bearers of its thought. It plunders the tombs of 
 dead nationalities, and weaves living histories from the 
 shreds it finds. 
 
 8. How wonderful a being is man, when viewed in the 
 lisht of his achievements I It is in the record of these that 
 we find the evidence of his power, and the credentials of 
 his glory. Into the results of work each generation pours 
 its life ; and, as the results grow in excellence, with broader 
 forais, and richer tints, and nobler meanings, they become 
 the indexes of the world's progress. We estimate the life 
 of a generation hj what it does; and the results of its work 
 stand out in advance of its successor, to show it what it 
 can do, and to show it what it must do, to reach a finer 
 consummation. 
 
 9. Thus Work, in her results, lifts each generation in the 
 world's progress from step to step, shortening the ladder 
 upon which the angels ascend and descend, and climbing by 
 ever brio-hter and broader 2;radations toward the ultimate 
 perfection. A new and more glorious gift of power 
 compensates for each worthy expenditure ; So that it 
 is by work that man carves his way to that measure of 
 power which will fit him for his destiny, and leave him 
 nearest God. 
 
 10. Hammer away, thou sturdy smith, at that bar of 
 iron ! for thou art bravely forging thy own destiny. Weave 
 on in glad content, industrious worker of the mill ! for thou 
 art weaving cloth of gold, though thou seest not its luster. 
 Plow and plant, and rear and reap, ye tillers of the soil ! 
 for those brown acres of yours are pregnant with nobler 
 
 12 
 
178 SAKDEBS' UNION SEHIES. 
 
 fruitage than that which hung in Eden. Let Commerce 
 fearlessly send out her ships ; for there is a haven where 
 they will arrive at last, with freighted wealth below, and 
 flying streamers above, and jubilant crews between. Work- 
 ing well for the minor good and the chief good of life, you 
 shall win your way to the great consummation, and find 
 in your hands the golden key that will open for you the 
 riddle of your history. 
 
 LESSON LL 
 
 * Car lyle", Thomas, an eccentric writer, was bom in Scotland, 1796. 
 Ilis style, at first, was simple and eloquent ; latterly he became affected 
 and grotesque, though often vigorous. 
 
 OUR DEEDS IMPERISHABLE. 
 
 L. H. GRIN DON. 
 
 NO man is happier than he who loves and fulfills 
 that particular work for the world which falls to his 
 share. Even thouojh the full understanding!: of his -work 
 and of its ultimate value may not be present Avith him, if 
 he but love it, and his conscience approve, it brings an 
 abounding satisfaction. Indeed, none of us fully compre- 
 liond our office, nor the issues we are working for. 
 
 2. To man is intrusted the nature of his actions, and 
 not the result of them. This, God keeps out of our sight. 
 The most trivial act, doubtless, goes to the promotion of a 
 multitude of ends, distant it may be to ourselves, but only 
 as the leaves of a tree are distant from their supplying 
 rootlets ; and therefore does it behoove us to be diligent in 
 our several spheres. We should work like the bees, sedu- 
 lous to collect all the honey within our reach, but leaving 
 to Providence to order w^hat shall come of it. 
 
i 
 
 UNION FIFTH EEADER. 179 
 
 3. The good which our exertions effect, may rarely or 
 never become visible. In teaching, w^hich is the readiest 
 of good uses, how often does all exertion seem in vain ! 
 Our duti/ is, nevertheless, to persevere, and strive to do all 
 we can, leaving the result with Providence. Every man 
 should go on working, never debating within himself, nor 
 wavering in doubt, whether it mai/ succeed, but labor as if^ 
 Df necessity, it must succeed. 
 
 4. Between the result of a single effort and the end we 
 have in view, and the magnitude of the obstacles to be 
 overcome, there may often appear a large and painful 
 disproportion : but we must not allow ourselves to be dis- 
 couraged by seeming s ; warm, hearty, sunny endeavor will 
 unfaihngly meet with its reward. Good uses are never 
 without result. Once enacted, they become a part of the 
 moral world. They give to it a new enrichment and 
 beauty, and the whole universe partakes of their influence. 
 They may not return in the shape wherein played forth, 
 but likelier after the manner of seed, which never forgets 
 to turn to flowers. 
 
 5. Philosophers tell us, that, since the creation of the 
 world, not one particle of matter has been lost. It may 
 have passed into new shapes ; it may have combined with 
 other elements ; it may have floated away in vapor : but it 
 comes back some time, in the dew-drop or the rain, helping 
 tlie leaf to grow, and the fruit to swell : through all its 
 wanderings and transformations. Providence watches over 
 and directs it. So it is with every generous and self-deny- 
 ing effort. It may escape our observation, and be utterly 
 forgotten ; it ma}^ seem to have been utterly in vain : but 
 it has painted itself on the eternal world, and is never 
 effaced. Nothing that has the ideas and principles of 
 Heaven in it can die or be fruitless. 
 
180 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 6. " Talk not of wasted affection ; affection never was 
 
 wasted : 
 
 If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters re- 
 turning 
 
 Back to their spring, Hke the rain, shall fill it full 
 of refreshment. 
 
 That which the fountain sends forth, returns again 
 to the fountain." 
 
 7. Carlyle^ says, '^ It is from our worh we gain most of 
 ©ur self-knowledge, — one of the most important desiderata^ 
 of life. Our works are the mirror within which the spirit 
 first sees its natural lineaments. 'Know thyself^ is an 
 impossihle precept till it be translated into this partially 
 possible one. Know what thou canst work atJ'^ Work is 
 obedience, and self-knowledge is invaluable ; and thus is 
 proved that duty and interest are but two name? for 
 one fact. 
 
 LESSON LIT. 
 THE USES OF LIFE. 
 
 HARPER'S MAGAZINE. 
 
 THOUGH we climb Fame's proudest hight ; 
 Though we sit on hills afar. 
 Where the thrones of triumph are ; 
 Though all deepest mysteries be open to our sight 
 If we win not by that power 
 For the world another dower, — 
 If this great Humanity share not in our gain, — 
 We have lived our life in vain, 
 
 * Desiderata, things desired. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEK. 181 
 
 2. Though we revel in sweet dreams ; 
 
 Though with poet's eye we look 
 Full on Nature's open book, 
 And our spirits wander, singing with the birds and 
 streams, — 
 
 If we let no music in 
 To the world of grief and sin, — 
 If we draw no spirit heavenward by the strain, — 
 We have lived our life in vain. 
 
 3. Though our lot be calm and bright ; 
 
 Though upon our brows we wear 
 
 Youth, and grace, and beauty rare. 
 And the hours go swiftly, singing in their flight ; 
 
 If we let no glory down 
 
 Any darkened life to crown, — 
 If our grace and joyance have no ministry for 
 pain, — 
 
 We have lived our life in vain, 
 
 4. Though for weary years we toil ; 
 
 Though we gather all the gold 
 From the mines of wealth untold ; 
 Though from farthest shores of ocean we have brought 
 the spoil ; 
 
 What, at the last, is won, 
 If Ave hear not God's " Well done " ? 
 If the world's want and sorrow be not lessened by our 
 gain, 
 
 We have lived our life in vain. 
 
182 BAKDEHS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. Though we be, in heart and hand, 
 Mighty with all foes to cope. 
 Rich in courage and in hope. 
 Fitted as strong laborers in the world to stand ; 
 If with these we right no wrong, 
 What avails it to be strong ? 
 If we strengthen not the weak, raise not the bowed 
 again, — 
 
 We have lived our life in vain. 
 
 6. To the giver shall be given : 
 
 If thou wouldest walk in light, 
 
 Make other spirits bright : 
 Who, seeking for himself alone, ever entered Heaven ? 
 
 In blessing we are blest ; 
 
 In labor find our rest : 
 If we bend not to the world's work, heart, and hand, 
 and brain, — 
 
 We have lived our life in vain, 
 
 7. Selfishness is utter loss : 
 
 Life's most perfect joy and good — 
 Ah ! how few have understood ! 
 Only One hath proved it fully, and He died upon the 
 cross. 
 
 Taking on Himself the curse 
 So to bless a universe : 
 If we follow not His footsteps through the pathway 
 straight and plain, — 
 
 We have lived our life in vain* 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 183 
 
 LESSON LIII. 
 LOFTY ASPIRATIONS. 
 
 DEM. REVIEW. 
 
 1. /^EASE your wild fluttering, thoughts that fill the soul I 
 yj Silence awhile ; 'tis but the hour of birth ! 
 Spurn not impatiently the miners control, 
 
 Nor seek the clouds ere ye have looked on earth : 
 Still your strong beating till the day has gone 
 
 And starry eve comes on ! 
 
 2. Tr% would ye sweep so proudly through the sky, 
 
 With fearless wing the snow-crowned hills above, 
 "Where the strong eagle scarcely dares to fly, 
 
 And the cloud-armies thunder as they rove, — 
 Make in the solitude of storms your path, 
 
 And tempt the lightning's wrath? 
 
 8. Will ye not linger in the earth's green fields 
 Till the first feebleness of youth is o'er ; 
 Clasp the fresh joy that young existence yields 
 
 In the bright present, and desire no more' ; 
 Lulled among blossoms, down Life's morning stream 
 Glide in Elysian dream' ? 
 
 4. Throb not so wildly, restless spirit, now ! 
 
 Deep and undying though thy impulse be : 
 Would not the roses Avither on thy brow, 
 
 AVhen from thy weary chains at last made free' ? 
 In such hot glare, Avould not the proud crest stoop. 
 
 And the scorched pinion droop' ? 
 
184 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. I pause. In might the thronging thoughts arise, — 
 
 Hopes unfulfilled, and glory yet afar, — 
 Vague, restless longings that would seek the skies, 
 
 And back in flame come like a falling star : 
 I hear ye in the heart's loud beating seek 
 
 A voice wherewith to speak : 
 
 6. " Say, can the children of a loftier sphere 
 
 Find on the earth the freedom they desire'? 
 Can the strong spirit fold its pinions here. 
 
 And give to joy the utterance of its lyre' ? 
 Can the fledged eaglet, born where sunbeams burn, 
 Back into darkness turn ' ? 
 
 7. " Must not the wing, that would aspire to sweep 
 
 Through realms undarkened by the breath of sin, 
 Dare in its earliest flight the trackless deep, 
 
 Nor faint and feebly on the earth begin, — 
 Mount as a soaring lark in morning's glow. 
 
 And leave the mists below'? 
 
 8. " We feel, in heaven's own ether, calm and high, 
 
 A god-like strength, the storms of earth to stem ; 
 The volleyed thunders from our ])atliway fly ; * 
 
 We twine the lig-htninor for a diadem ! 
 Far, far below, the clouds in darkness move ; 
 
 The sun is bright above ! 
 
 9. "No soul can soar too loftily, whose aim 
 
 Is God-given truth and brother-love of man ; 
 Who builds in hearts the altars of his fame. 
 
 And ends in love what sympathy began. 
 Spirit, ascend ! though far thy flight may be, 
 
 God then is nearer thee ! " 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 185 
 
 LESSON LIT. 
 
 * West Point, an important military post, is situated on the Hudson, just 
 below Newburg. During the war of the Revolution, the infamous 
 Benedict Arnold, who was in command of this post, agreed to deliver 
 it up to the British. It is now the seat of the United-States Academy. 
 
 GENERAL WASHINGTON'S ESCAPE. 
 
 THE name of Washington is dear to every American. 
 Distinguished not only for iDravery and intelUgence, 
 but for the purest virtues which can adorn the human 
 heart, he has been venerated in the memory of distant 
 nations, and immortalized by the blessings he shed upon 
 his country. He resembles the orb of day, imparting its 
 twilight long after it is set, and invisibly dispensing its 
 light and cheering warmth to the world. 
 
 2. Cautious and prudent, he was never surprised by the 
 most disheartening failures, nor alarmed into compliance 
 by the most undaunted threats. His eye could penetrate 
 the darkest designs, and his powers of invention enabled 
 him to escape the most formidable stratagems. The very 
 means employed by the enemy to incommode him, were 
 frequently, in his own hands, the instruments of their ruin. 
 The following account of his escape from a treacherous 
 plot to insnare him will serve as an illustration of his vigi- 
 lance and eagle-eyed caution. 
 
 3. When the American army was stationed at West 
 Point ,^ during the Revolutionary War, the British head- 
 quarters were not many miles distant, on the Hudson ; 
 and each was waiting, like the figures on a chess-board, 
 for some favorable movement to disconcert and thwart the 
 operations of the other. Scouting-parties would engage in 
 
186 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 frequent skirmishes ; and wagons of provisions, ammuni- 
 tion, and clothing, would fall into the power of those supe- 
 rior in number and dexterity. 
 
 4. On one of these occasions, a quantity of English uni- 
 form was seized by an American detachment ; and several 
 notable advantages obtained by the latter, inspired the 
 enemy with a desire to retaliate. About this time, while 
 at West Point, General Washington had an intimate ac- 
 quaintance residing not far from the army, in whose family 
 
 ^he enjoyed the kindest hospitality, as well as relief from 
 many of those sterner engagements which harassed his 
 weary mind. As every circumstance was watched by 
 either army, a visit like this, not many miles from their 
 camp, could not long escape the cognizance of the British ; 
 and to possess a prisoner like General Washington, would 
 tend, in their opinion, to shorten the period of the war. 
 
 5. But the undertaking was difficult : there were always 
 advance guards to cover the American commander, and 
 there was no mode of discovering his visits except by win- 
 ning over some one of the family. The friend whom the 
 general visited was once thought to have espoused the 
 interests of the British ; but he had taken a decided stand 
 in favor of America, and, though a brave man, he professed 
 the strictest neutrality, alleging, as his reason, his advanced 
 years and dependent family. 
 
 6. During the intima(;y of the general, it was rumored 
 in the American army that his friend had been seen often 
 returning from the British camp. Washington seemed to 
 disregard the report ; for he never ceased to visit the fam- 
 ily, and apparently mingled as cordially with the host as if 
 no suspicion had crossed his mind. At length, one day, as 
 the general was taking his leave, his friend earnestly re- 
 quested him to dine with him the following afternoon, em- 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 187 
 
 pliatlcally naming the hour of two o'clock as the moment 
 of expecting him. 
 
 7. He reminded liim of the uncommon dehght which his 
 intimacy conferred ; begged him to lay aside every formal- 
 ity, and regard his house as his home ; and hinted that he 
 feared the general did not consider it in that light, as the 
 guard, that always accompanied him, seemed to indicate ho 
 was not visiting a friend. " By no means, dear sir !" ex 
 claimed the worthy patriot : " and, as a proof of the confi- 
 dence' which I repose in you, I will visit you alone to-mor- 
 row ; and I pledge my sacred word of honor that not a 
 soldier shall accompany me." 
 
 8. " Pardon me, general," cried the host; "but why so 
 serious on so trifling a subject? I merely jested." — "I 
 am aware of it," said the hero, smiling ; " but what of that ? 
 I have long considered the planting of these outposts un- 
 necessary, inasmuch as they may excite the suspicion of 
 the enemy ; and, although it be a trifle, that trifle shall not 
 sport with the friendship you indulge for me." — " But 
 then — the hour, general ? " — " Oh, yes ! two o^ clock, you 
 said?" — ''Precisely," returned the other. 
 
 9. At one o'clock, on the following day, the general 
 mounted his favorite horse, and proceeded alone upon a 
 by-road which conducted him to the hospitable mansion. 
 It was about half an hour before the time ; and the bustling 
 host received him with open arms, in addition to the greet- 
 ings of the delighted family. " How punctual^ kind suM" 
 exclaimed the warm-hearted friend. '^ Punctuality/, ^^ re- 
 plied Washington, "is an angel virtue, embracing minor 
 as well as important concerns. He that is not punctual 
 with Si friend^ may doubt his integrity." The host started ; 
 but, recovering himself, he added, " Then 7/ours is a proof 
 that we enjoy your fullest confidence." 
 
188 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 10. Washington proposed a promenade upon tlie piazza 
 previous to the dinner. It overlooked a rough country sev- 
 eral miles in extent, — fields of grain here and there sweep- 
 ing beneath the sides of bleak hills, producing nothing but 
 rocks and grass; shallow runnels of water flowing along 
 the hollows of the uneven waste, then hidden by wood- 
 lands, intercepting a prospect of the country beyond ; 
 spotted now and then with silver glimpses of the Hudson, 
 stealing through the sloping grounds below, and checkered 
 on both sides by the dim, purple Highlands, frowning some- 
 times into hoary battlements, and tapering again into gentle 
 valleys hardly illuminated by the sun. 
 
 11. "This is fine, bold scenery!" exclaimed the general, 
 apparently absorbed in the beauty of the prospect. " Yes, 
 sir," replied his friend, looking wistfully around, as if ex- 
 pecting some one's approach ; but, catching the piercing 
 glance of Washington, his eyes were fastened confusedly 
 on the floor. " I must rally you, my friend," observed tlie 
 general. " Do you perceive yonder point, that boldly rises 
 from the water, and suddenly is lost behind that hill which 
 obstinately checks the view?" — "I do," rephed the ab- 
 sent-minded listener, engaged apparently in something else 
 than the subject of inquiry. "TAerg," continued the hero, 
 "my enemy lies encamped; and, were it not for a slight 
 mist, I could almost fancy that I perceive his cavalry mov- 
 ing. But hark ! that cannon ! Do you not think it pro- 
 ceeds from the headquarters of the enemy ? " 
 
 12. While pointing out to his friend the profile of the 
 country, the face of the latter was often turned the op* 
 posite way, seemingly engrossed in another object imme- 
 diately behind the house. He w^as not mistaken : it was 
 a troop, seemingly, of British horse, that were descending 
 a distant hill, winding through a labyrinth of numerous 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 189 
 
 projections and trees, until they were seen galloping 
 through the valley below ; and then again they were hid- 
 den by a field of forest, that swelled along the bosom of 
 the landscape. " Would it not be strange," observed the 
 general, apparently unconscious of the movements behind 
 him, *' that, after all my toils, America should forfeit her 
 liberty?" 
 
 13. " Heaven forbid ! " said his friend, becoming less 
 reserved, and entering more warmly into the feelings of 
 the other. " But," resumed Washington, '' I have heard 
 of treachery in the heart of one's own camp ; and doubt- 
 less you know that it is possible ' to be wounded even in 
 the house of one's friend.' " — " Sir," demanded the down- 
 cast host, unable to meet the searching glance of his com- 
 panion, " who can possibly intend so daring a crime ? " — 
 " I only meant," replied Washington, " that treachery is 
 the most hideous of crimes ; for, Judas-like, it will even 
 sell its Lord for money!" — "Very time, general," re- 
 sponded the anxious host, as he gazed upon a troop of 
 British horse winding round the hill, and riding with post- 
 haste toward the hospitable mansion. 
 
 14. " Is it two o'clock yet ? " demanded Washington : 
 " for I have an engagement this afternoon at the army ; and 
 I regret that my visit must, therefore, be shorter than in- 
 tended." — '' It lacks a full quarter yet," said his friend, 
 seeming doubtful of his watch, from the arrival of the 
 horsemen. " But bless me, sir ! what cavalry are those 
 that are so rapidly approaching the house ? " asked hia 
 friend. " Oh ! they may possibly be a party of British 
 light horse," returned the general coolly, '' which mean 
 no harm ; and, if I mistake not, they have been sent for 
 the purpose of protecting mef'' 
 
 15. As he said this, the captain of the troop was seen 
 
190 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 dismounting from his horse ; and his example was followed 
 by the rest of the party. " General ! " returned the other, 
 walking to him very familiarly, and tapping him on the 
 shoulder, " general, you are my prisoner ! " — "I believe 
 not," said Washington, looking calmly at the men who 
 were approaching the steps ; '' but, friend," exclaimed he, 
 slapping him in return on the arm, " I know that you are 
 mine ! Here, officer, carry this treacherous hypocrite to 
 the camp, and I will make him an example to the enemies 
 of America." 
 
 16. The British general had secretly offered an im- 
 mense sum to this man to make an appointment with the 
 hero at two o'clock, at which time he was to send a troop 
 of horse to secure him in their possession. Suspecting his 
 intentions, Washington had directed his own troop to equip 
 themselves as English cavalry, and arrive half an hour pre- 
 cisely before the time when he was expected. 
 
 17. They pursued their way to the camp, triumphing 
 at the sagacity of their commander, who had so astonish- 
 ingly defeated the machinations of the British general. 
 But the humanity of Washington prevailed over his sense 
 of justice. Overcome by the tears and prayers of the 
 family, he pardoned his treacherous friend, on condition of 
 his leaving the country forever ; which he accordingly did, 
 and his name sunk in oblivion. 
 
 LESSON LY. 
 
 * Te cum'' seh, a famous Indian warrior, who excited several of the tribes 
 to take up the liatchet on the side of the British, against the Amer- 
 icans, was killed at the memorable battle of the Thames. Oct 5, 
 1813. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEB. 191 
 
 EXCITING ADVENTURE WITH AN INDIAN. 
 
 BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE. 
 
 THE moon was shining gloriously, when I approached a 
 deep glen, known by the name of Murder Creek. It 
 had received this fearful appellation in consequence of a 
 tragical event which occurred there, years ago. A party 
 of whites, consisting of about thirty persons, including 
 several women and children, who were camping out during 
 the night, were suddenly surprised by the Indians, and every 
 one of them butchered and scalped. 
 
 2. Weary, cold, wet, and hungry, I made up my mind 
 to spread my blanket, kindle my fire, and, after cooking my 
 bacon and making my coffee, to sleep till dawn beneath the 
 thick branches of the lofty trees which overshadowed me. 
 Having secured my horse by a little fence of saplings, and 
 given him his supper of corn-leaves, the only substitute 
 for hay, (a sufficient supply of which I had carried behind 
 me, tied on his back,) I prepared my own meal. 
 
 3. After I had finished my supper, and replenished my 
 fire with fuel, so laid on as to prevent its burning away too 
 rapidly, I spread my blanket, and lay down. But there 
 was an oppressive stillness around, which kept me awake 
 for some time. Insensibly, however, sleep began to steal 
 over me, and I was sinking into repose, when I heard a 
 rustling among the bushes, and the quick tread of feet. I 
 turned my head in the direction of the sound, and saw an 
 Indian seated on a blackened stump, gazing steadily at me. 
 I neither spoke nor moved ; and he was equally silent and 
 motionless. I do not think he was aware that I was awake 
 and looking at him. 
 
 4. He was tall, of a robust make ; his dress was elegant 
 
192 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and picturesque, consisting of a sort of loose gown of red 
 and blue cotton, Avitli the hem highly ornamented, and 
 fastened round the waist by a richly-embroidered belt, in 
 which were his tomahawk, scalping-knife, and powder- 
 horn. Over his shoulders hung his quiver, and sheaf of 
 arrows ; on his head he wore a white cotton turban, from 
 behind which nodded a small plume of black feathers. In 
 his hand he held a gun ; and athwart his body, obliquely 
 crossing his left shoulder, and hanging below his right, his 
 bow was slung. 
 
 5. I had full leisure to note all these things ; for there 
 he sat, with his eyes fixed upon me. It was like fascina- 
 tion. I could only look at him and breathe softly, as if I 
 feared to disturb the warrior, I closed my eyes for a mo- 
 ment ; but, when I opened them again, the Indian had 
 disappeared. I was now convinced I had been mocked 
 with a waking dream ; for awake I zvas, and had been so 
 all the time. I Avas convinced, too, that, had his feet been 
 shod with moccasins of tlie cygnet's down, I must liave 
 lieard the tread as he retired, if the form had been real. 
 
 6. Under other circumstances, an occurrence like this 
 would have banished sleep for the rest of the night ; but, 
 in spite of what I felt, the fatigue of my day's journey sat 
 too heavily upon me to let me keep awake. In the very 
 midst of unquiet and feverish meditations, I fell asleep. 
 How long I continued in that state, I can not say ; but it 
 must have been three or four hours ; for, when I awoke, 
 my night fire was nearly burned out, and the moon was 
 vailed by black and tempestuous clouds, which had gath- 
 ered in the sky, threatening a storm. The first object that 
 met my eyes, as I looked around, was the Indian. He was 
 seated in the same attitude as before ; but his figure was 
 now only dimly and partially visible, from the long flashes 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 193 
 
 of red, dusky light thrown upon it at intervals by the 
 expiring embers. 
 
 7. I started up, grasping one of my pistols, which lay 
 by my side. He arose, and slowly advanced toward me. 
 I was on my feet in an instant ; and, as he came near, I 
 presented my pistol ; but, with one blow of his tomahawk, 
 he struck it from my hand so violently, that the piece dis- 
 charged itself as it fell to the ground. I endeavored to 
 possess myself of the other, when he sprang upon me, 
 seized me by the throat, and, with his right hand, held 
 aloft his murderous weapon. Expecting the fatal blow to 
 fall, I made signs of submission, and, both by my gestures 
 and looks, implored his mercy. 
 
 8. He surveyed me for an instant without speaking, then 
 quitted his hold, and, stooping down, took up my remaining 
 pistol, which he discharged in the air. I saw, by the quick 
 glances of his eyes, that he was looking about to ascertain 
 whether I had any other weapon of defense ; and I signi- 
 fied that I had not. He now lighted the pipe of his toma- 
 hawk * by the embers, gave two or three puffs himself, and 
 passed it to me : I did the same ; and, from that moment, 
 I knew I was safe in his hands. The symbol of peace and 
 hospitality had been reciprocated ; the pledge of good faith 
 had been given, which no Indian ever violated. 
 
 9. Hitherto not a word had been spoken. I knew not 
 a word of the Indian dialect, and did not suppose he under- 
 stood mine. While I was considering how I should make 
 myself understood, or comprehend the intentions of my 
 mysterious visitor, I was both surprised and delighted to 
 hear him address me in very good English. 
 
 * The tomahawk is sometimes so made as to serve for a pipe : the 
 hatchet-head has a little socket attached to it ; and the handle, being bored, 
 serves for the stem. 
 9 
 
194 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 " The storm-clouds are collecting in their strength," 
 said he, looking toward the sky. " Get ready. Fol- 
 low me." 
 
 " You speak my language ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 '' You hear I do. Get ready, and follow." 
 
 "Whither?" 
 
 He made no answer, but walked some paces off in the 
 direction he would go, and then stopped, as if waiting for 
 me. I obeyed. In a few minutes, my horse was saddled, 
 and I on its back ready to proceed. 
 
 10. When he saw me ready to follow, he immediately 
 entered a narrow hunter's path, that led into the thickest 
 part of the wood. It soon became so dark that I could not 
 see my guide, and he turned back to take the bridle of my 
 horse in his hand. With an unerring and rapid step he 
 kept the path, and, with the eyes of the lynx, he discerned 
 its course through the intricate windings of the forest. He 
 did not speak ; and I was too much absorbed in conjectures 
 as to what might be the issue of this adventure, to seek 
 frivolous discourse, while I knew that any attempt to antici- 
 pate the issue by questions would be futile. Besides, all 
 fears for my personal safety being allayed, I can hardly 
 say that I now felt a wish to forego the conclusion of a 
 business that had commenced so romantically. 
 
 11. We had proceeded in this manner about two miles, 
 when the Indian suddenly stopped ; and the next moment 
 I was startled by the report of his rifle, which was followed 
 by a loud howl or yell. Before I could inquire the cause 
 of what I heard, I was thrown to. the ground by the vio- 
 lent rearing of my horse ; but I soon recovered my feet, 
 and was then enabled to perceive by the faint glimmering 
 of the dawn, which now began to penetrate the dark, deep 
 gloom of the gigantic trees, that the Indian was in the act 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 195 
 
 of discharging an arrow at a wolf of prodigious size, which 
 seemed to be on the spring to seize its assailant. 
 
 12. The arrow flew to its mark with a whizzing sound, 
 and the bow sent forth a twang, which denoted tlie strength 
 of the arm that had dispatched it. It struck and pene- 
 trated the skull of the wolf; and the next moment a tre- 
 mendous blow from the tomahawk, given as he sprang 
 toward the ferocious animal, before it could recover from 
 tlie stunning shock of the arrow, cleft his head completely 
 in twain. The whole of this did not occupy more than a 
 minute ; with such dexterous rapidity did the Indian first 
 discharge his gun, then unsling his bow, and follow up its 
 use by the certain execution of the tomahawk. 
 
 13. The Indian reloaded his gun, to be ready, if neces- 
 sary, for another enterprise of the same kind ; and we 
 resumed our journey in silence. Having proceeded, as 
 nearly as I could judge, from three to four miles farther, 
 we at length came to a small cabin, or wigwam, erected by 
 the side of the path. It was of the simplest construction, 
 consisting merely of a few saplings stuck into the ground, 
 and covered on the top and sides with the bark of the 
 cedar-tree. Round the cabin there was about half an acre 
 of ground cleared, which was planted with Indian corn. 
 Here we stopped ; for this was tlie abode of my guide. 
 
 14. I dismounted, fastened my horse to a tree, and fol- 
 lowed the Indian into the hut, whose only furniture seemed 
 to be a bed of buffalo and wild deer skins. I perceived, 
 liowever, that the walls of the hut were huno; round with 
 
 'ifles, tomahawks, scalping-knives, powder-horns, bows, 
 irrows, and deer, buffalo, and bear skins. But I will not 
 Lttempt to describe what were my feelings at the moment, 
 when I saw and counted, on one side of the cabin, no less 
 than fifteen human scalps, denoting, by their size and 
 
196 SAKDEES' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 appearance, that they had belonged to persons of almost 
 every age, from the child of three years to the gray victim 
 of threescore and ten. 
 
 15. One, in particular, attracted my attention, from the 
 beauty of its long, glossy auburn hair, which hung down 
 in profusion, and which had evidently been severed from 
 the head of some female, perhaps young, and lovely, and 
 beloved. I could easily distinguish, too, that all of them 
 were the scalps of white people, who had been slain, I had 
 no doubt, by the being in whose power, utterly helpless 
 and alone, I then was. My heart grew faint and sick at 
 the grisly array, and I turned from it, but with a resolution 
 to betray as little as I possibly could, by my manner, the 
 emotions it had excited. 
 
 16. "^ Sit," exclaimed the Indian, pointing to the bed of 
 buffalo and wild deer skins in one corner of the cabin. I 
 did so ; while he, with the same stern silence which he had 
 all along maintained, spread before me various preparations 
 of Indian corn, wild venison, and not an unpalatable dish, 
 made of the flour of Indian corn, gathered while green, 
 mixed with honey and Avater. He seated himself by my 
 side, and partook of the meal. I, too, ate, and with a 
 relish, after my morning's ride, in spite of many uneasy 
 reflections, which I could not repress. 
 
 17. " You are a white man, — I found you sleeping, — 
 jrou were armed, — I made you defenseless, and then I 
 pflered you the pipe of peace, A white man found my 
 FATHER defenseless and asleep, and shot him as he slept. 
 Four snows passed, and I returned one evening from hunt- 
 ing, when I found my cabin burned down. My mother 
 alone sat weeping and lamenting among the ruins. I could 
 not separate the bones of my children and my wife from 
 the common heap of blackened ashes which marked the 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEK. 197 
 
 spot where my home had stood when I went forth in tha 
 morning. I did not weep ; but I comforted my mother all 
 that night ; and, when the sun arose, I said, — ' Let us to- 
 the wilderness. We are now the last of our race. We 
 are alone, and the desert offers its solitude for such.' 
 
 18. " I left for the lake of a Thousand Islands, carry^ 
 ing with me only a handful of the ashes with which was 
 mingled the dust of my children and my wife. In my 
 progress hither, I visited the great warrior Tecumseh.* 
 I joined him. I was his companion. I sat with him in 
 the assembly of the great council, when, by the power of 
 his talk, he obtained a solemn declaration that they would 
 take up the hatchet at his call. And they did; and I 
 fought by his side. When the warrior perished, the hope 
 perished with him of gathering the Indian nations in some 
 spot where the white people could not follow, and where 
 we might live as our fathers had done. 
 
 19. " Tecumseh fell. I left my brethren, and I built 
 my cabin in the woods. It was in the season of the 'green 
 corn, when the thank-offering is made to the Great Spirit, 
 that a white man came to my door. He had lost his path, 
 and the sun was going down. My mother shook ; for the 
 fear of death was upon her. She spoke to me. Her words 
 were like the hurricane that sweeps through the forest, and 
 opens for itself a way among the hills. The stranger was 
 tlio same that had found my father defenseless and asleep, 
 and who shot him as he slept. Come with me, and learn 
 the rest." 
 
 20. The Indian arose, went forth, and entered the for^ 
 est ; I followed, utterly incapable of saying a word. There 
 Avas something so strange and overpowering in what I had 
 seen and heard, — so obscure and exciting in what I might 
 still have to see and hear, — that I could only meditate 
 
198 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 fearfully and silently upon the whole. The course he 
 now took was indicated by no path, but lay through thick 
 underwood, and amono; tano-led bushes. 
 
 21. At the distance of about a quarter of a mile from 
 the cabin, I observed a small stage, constructed between 
 four trees standing near each other, and not more than 
 four or five feet from the ground. On this stage I saw a 
 human figure extended, which, as I afterwards discovered, 
 was the body of the Indian's mother. By her side was a 
 red earthen vessel or pitcher, containing the bones of his 
 fiither, and that " handful of ashes " which he had brought 
 with him from the shores of Lake Ontario, under the 
 impulse of a sentiment so well known to exist among 
 the Indian tribes, — tlie desire of mingling their own dust, 
 in death, with that of their fathers arid their kindred. I 
 noticed, however, that my guide passed this simple, sylvan 
 sepulcher, without once turning his eyes toward it. 
 
 22. We continued our progress through the forest ; and 
 I soon began to perceive we were ascending a rising 
 ground, though the dense foliage prevented me from dis- 
 tinguishing the hight or the extent of the acclivity. Pres- 
 ently I heard the loud din and roar of waters ; and we had 
 proceeded in the direction of the sound, whose increasing 
 noise indicated our gradual approximation to it, for rather 
 more than half a mile, when the Indian stopped, and I 
 found myself on the brink of a tremendous whirlpool. I 
 looked down from a hight of nearly two hundred feet into 
 the deep ravine below, through which the vexed stream 
 whirled •till it escaped through another chasm, and plunged 
 into the recesses of the wood. 
 
 23. It was an awful moment! The profound gloom of 
 the place ; the uproar of the eddying vortex beneath ; the 
 dark and rugged abyss which yawned before me, where 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 199 
 
 huge trunks of trees might be seen, tossing and writhing 
 about hke things of Hfe, tormented by the angry spirit of 
 the waters ; the unknown purpose of the being who had 
 brouglit me hither, and who stood by my side in sullen 
 silence, prophetic, to my mind, of a thousand horrible 
 imaginings, — formed, altogether, a combination of circum- 
 stances that might have summoned fear into a bolder heart 
 than mine, at that instant. 
 
 24. At length the Indian spoke : — 
 
 " Into this gulf I plunged the murderer of my father." 
 As he uttered these words, he seized me firmly with his 
 sinewy arm. We were so near the edge of the precipice, 
 and his manner was so energetic, I might almost say con- 
 vulsed, from the recollection of his consummating act of 
 revenge, that I felt no small alarm lest an accidental move- 
 ment might precipitate us botli into the frightful chasm, 
 independently of a very uncomfortable misgiving as to 
 what his real intentions mio;ht be while holdino: me so 
 firmly. 
 
 25. Then, fixing his eyes steadfastly upon me, he said, 
 — "I tracked you, last night, from the going-down of the 
 sun. Twice my gun was leveled ; twice I drew my ar- 
 row's head to its point ; once my hatchet glittered in the 
 moon. But my arm failed me, and there was a sadness 
 over my spirits. I watched you as you slept. Not even 
 the thought, that so my father slept, could make me strike. 
 I left you, and in the deep forest cast myself to the earth, 
 to ask the Great Spirit what he would have me do, if it 
 was not permitted that I should shed your blood. A voice 
 in the air seemed to say to me, — ' Let him return.' " 
 
 The Indian then released me from his grasp, conducted 
 me back to his cabin, furnished me with food for my jour- 
 ney, and bade me depart. 
 
200 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LYI. 
 CHOICE EXTRACTS. 
 
 DECAY OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS. 
 
 CHARLES SPRAGUE. 
 
 AS a race, they have withered from the land. Their 
 arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their 
 cabins are in the dust. Their council-fire has long since 
 gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast dying away 
 to the untrodden West. Slowly and sadly they climb the 
 distant mountains, and read their doom in the settino; sun. 
 They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is press- 
 ing them away ; they must soon hear the roar of the last 
 wave, which will settle over them forever. Ages hence, 
 the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing 
 city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed 
 remains, and wonder to what manner of person they be- 
 longed. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of 
 their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude 
 virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate 
 as a people. 
 
 IL 
 
 LAMENT OF AN INDIAN CHIEF. 
 
 I WILL go to my tent, and lie down in despair ; 
 I will paint me with black, and will sever my hair ; 
 I will sit on the shore, where the hurricane blows, 
 And reveal to the god of the tempest my woes ; 
 I will weep for a season on bitterness fed. 
 For my kindred are gone to the hills of the dead ; 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 201 
 
 But tliey died not by hunger, or lingering decay, — 
 The steel of the white man hath swept them away : 
 My wife, and my children, — oh, spare me the tale ! — ' 
 For who is there left that is kin to Geehale ! 
 
 III. 
 EFFECTS OF OUR DEEDS. 
 
 1. The common and popular notion is, that death is the 
 end of man, as far as this world is concerned ; that the 
 grave which covers his fonii, covers and keeps within its 
 chambers all his influence ; and that the instant he has 
 ceased to breathe, that instant the man has ceased to act. 
 It is not so ; it is a popular mistake. We die, but leave 
 an influence behind us that survives ; the echoes of our 
 words are still repeated and reflected along the ages. 
 
 2. A man has two immortalities : one he leaves behind 
 him, and it Avalks the earth, and still represents him ; 
 another he carries with him to that lofty sphere, the pres- 
 ence and glory of. God. " Every man is a missionary, now 
 and forever, for good or evil, whether he intends it or not. 
 He may be a blot, racjiating his dark influence outward, to 
 the very circumference of society ; or he may be a bless- 
 ing, spreading benedictions over the length and breadth 
 of the world ; but a blank he can not be. The seed sown 
 in life springs up m harvests of blessings, or harvests of 
 
 IV. 
 
 MAN'S MORTALITY. 
 
 S. WASTELL. 
 
 1. Like as the damask rose you see, 
 Or as the blossom on the tree. 
 Or like the dainty flower of May, 
 
202 SANDEHS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Or like the morning to the day, 
 Or Hke the sun, or hke the shade, 
 Or hke the gourd which Jonas had, — 
 E'en such is man, whose thread is spun, 
 Drawn out, and cut, and so is done. 
 The rose 'withers, the blossom blasteth. 
 The flower fades, the morning hasteth, 
 The sun sets, the shadow flies. 
 The gourd consumes ; and man — he dies. 
 
 2 Like to the grass that's newly sprung, 
 Or like a tale that's new begun, 
 Or like the bird that's here to-day, 
 Or like the pearled dew of May, 
 Or like an hour, or like a span, 
 Or like the sino-ino; of a swan, — 
 E'en such is man, who lives by breath, 
 Is here, now there, in life and death. 
 The grass withers, the tale is ended, 
 The bird is flown, the dew's ascended, 
 The hour is short, the span not long, 
 The swan's near death, — man's life is done. 
 
 V. 
 
 SAVING FOR OLD AGE. 
 
 1. No one denies that it is wise to make a provision for 
 old age ; but we are not all agreed as to the land of pro- 
 vision it is best to lay up. Certainly, we shall want money; 
 for a destitute old man is, indeed, a pitiful sight. There- 
 fore, save money^ by all means. But an old man needs 
 just that particular kind of strength which young men are 
 most apt to waste. Many a foolish young' man will throw 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 203 
 
 away, on a holiday, a certain amount of nervous energy, 
 wliicli he will never feel the want of till he is seventy ; 
 and then^ how much he will need it ! It is curious, but 
 true, that a bottle of champagne, at twenty, may intensify 
 the rheumatism of threescore. It is a fact, that overtask- 
 ing the eyes at fourteen m?ay necessitate the aid of specta- 
 cles at forty, instead of eighty. 
 
 2. We advise our young readers to be saving of health 
 for their old age ; for the maxim holds good with regard to 
 health as to money, '' Waste not, want not." It is the 
 greatest mistake to suppose that any violation of the laws 
 of health can escape its penalty. Nature forgives no sin, 
 no error. She lets off the offender for fifty years some- 
 times, but she catches him at last, and inflicts the punish- 
 ment just when^ where^ and how he feels it most. Save up 
 for old age ; but save knowledge ; save the recollection of 
 good deeds and innocent pleasure ; save pure thoughts ; 
 save friends ; save rich stores of that kind of wealth 
 which time can not diminish, nor death take away. 
 
 VI. 
 
 BE FIRM. 
 
 MRS. S. C. MAYO. 
 
 Be firm ! whatever tempts thy soul 
 To loiter ere it reach its goal. 
 Whatever siren voice would draw 
 Thy heart from duty and its law. 
 Oh, that distrust ! Go bravely on. 
 And, till the victor-crown be won, 
 Be firm ! 
 
204 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Firm when thy conscience is assailed, 
 Firm when the star of hope is vailed, 
 Firm in defying wrong and sin, 
 Firm in life's conflict, toil, and din, 
 Firm in the path by martyrs trod, — 
 And oh, in love 'to man and God 
 Be firm ! 
 
 VIL 
 THE YOUNG VOYAGER. 
 
 ALBERT BARNES. 
 
 1. A YOUNG man, just entering on life, embarks on an 
 unknown and perilous voyage. If the interest of the fact 
 itself will not suffer by the comparison, his condition may 
 be likened to that -of a ship, that has never yet tried the 
 waves and storms, as it first leaves the port. This world, 
 so full of beautiful things, furnishes few objects so lovely 
 as such a vessel, when, with her sails all spread, and with 
 a/propitious breeze, she sails out of the harbor. 
 
 2. But who can tell what that vessel is to encounter ; 
 into what unknown seas she may yet be drifted ; between 
 what masses of ice she may be crushed ; on what hidden 
 rocks she may impinge ; what storms may whistle through 
 her shrouds, and carry away her tall masts ; or on what 
 coasts her broken timbers may be strewed ? Now, as the 
 waves gently tap her sides, nothing can be more beautiful, 
 or more safe ; but storms arise on that ocean Avhich now 
 looks so calm, and in those storms her beautifully-modeled 
 fonn, her timbers framed together to defy the tempest, her 
 ropes and her canvas, will avail nothing ; and, if she is 
 saved, none but He can do it who '' rides on the whirl- 
 wind and directs the storm." 
 
insriON FIFTH EEADEE. 205 
 
 VIII. 
 VOYAGE OF LIFR 
 
 HENRY WARE, JUN. 
 
 1. Life is a sea, as fathomless, 
 
 As wide, as terrible, and yet sometimes 
 As calm and beautiful. The light of Heaven 
 Smiles on it, and 'tis decked with every hue 
 Of glory and of joy. Anon, dark clouds 
 Arise, contending winds of fate go forth, 
 And Hope sits weeping o'er a general wreck. 
 And thou must sail upon this sea, a long, 
 Eventful voyage. The wise may suffer wreck, 
 The foolish 7nu8t, 
 
 2, O ! then be early Avise ! 
 Learn from the mariner his skillful art 
 
 To ride upon the waves, and catch the breeze, 
 And dare the threatening storm, and trace a path 
 'Mid countless dangers, to the destined port, 
 Unerringly secure. O ! learn fi*om him 
 To station quick-eyed Prudence at the helm, 
 To guard thy sail from Passion's sudden blasts, 
 And make Religion thy magnetic guide. 
 Which, though it trembles as it lowly lies, 
 Points to the light that changes not, — in Heaven. 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE BEAUTIES OF NATURE. 
 >rooniE. 
 
 1. Pause for a while, ye travelers on the earth, to con- 
 template the universe in which you dwell, and tlie glory 
 of Him who created it. What a scene of wonders is liere 
 
206 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 presented to your view I If beheld with a religious eye, 
 what a temple for the worship of the Almighty ! Tho 
 earth is spread out before you, reposing amid the desola- 
 tion of winter, or clad in the verdure of the spring, — smil- 
 ing in the beauty of summer, or loaded with autumnal 
 fruit, — opening, to an endless variety of beings, the treas- 
 ures of their Maker's goodness, and ministering subsist- 
 ence and comfort to every creature that lives. 
 
 2. The heavens, also, declare the glory of the Lord. 
 The Sun Cometh forth from his chambers to scatter the 
 shades of night, inviting you to the renewal of your labors, 
 adorning the face of Nature, and, as he advances to his 
 meridian brightness, cherishing every herb and flower that 
 springe th from the bosom of the earth. Nor, when he re- 
 tires again from your view, doth he leave the Creator 
 without a witness. He only hides his own splendor for a 
 while to disclose to you a more glorious scene, — to show 
 you the immensity of space filled with worlds unnumbered, 
 that your imaginations may wander, without a limit, in the 
 vast creation of God. 
 
 X. 
 
 CHEER UP. 
 
 C) 1. Cheer up ! my friend, cheer up, I say ; 
 Give not thy heart to gloom, to sorrow ; 
 Though clouds enshroud thy path to-day, 
 The sun will shine again to-morrow. 
 
 2, Oh ! look not with desponding sigh 
 Upon these little trifling troubles ; 
 Cheer up ! you'll see them by and by 
 . Just as they are, — like empty bubbles. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 207 
 
 8, So come, cheer up I my friend, cheer up ! 
 This is a world of love and beauty ; 
 And you may quaff its sweetest cup 
 If you but bravely do your duty. 
 
 4. Put gloom and sadness far away, 
 
 And, smiling, bid good-by to sorrow ; 
 The clouds that shroud your path to-day 
 Will let the sunhght in to-morrow. 
 
 LESSON LYII. 
 
 * Fox, Charles James, a distinguished statesman and orator, was born in 
 
 London, England, 1749; and died 1806. So early were his talents 
 developed, that he was elected a member of Parliament before he was 
 twenty years of age. See Sanders' Sixth Reader, p. 487. 
 'Jones, Sin William, whose researches in Oriental literature, and whose 
 surpassing genius as a translator from the Eastern languages, have 
 rendered his name illustrious throughout the world, was born in Lon- 
 don, 1746; and died 1794. He was also eminent as a mathematician 
 and a jurist. 
 
 * Her' cu les, a hero of antiquity, flibled to have been the son of Jupiter 
 
 and Alcmena, and celebrated for his great strength. 
 
 * De mos' the NE8, the greatest of Grecian orators, was born 382 B.C. ; and 
 
 died 322 B.C. Philip, King of Macedon, having betrayed his hostility 
 to the power of Athens, and to the liberties of the other Grecian 
 States, it was to arouse his countrymen ngainst the crafty invader that 
 Demosthenes pronounced his Philippics, a series of the most splendid 
 and spirited orations. ^ 
 
 ' Sixer' i dan, Richard Brinsley, an English dramatist and politician, 
 was born in Dublin, 1751 ; and died 1816. He was elected a member 
 of Parliament, and in 1787 supported the charge against Warren 
 Hastings, in a speech which is regarded as one of the very best of his 
 life. 
 
 ''Brougham, Henry, late lord-chancellor of England, was born in Edin- 
 burgh in 1778. He was one of the founders of " The Edinburgh Re- 
 view," and among its ablest contributors ; and is regarded as one of the 
 most remarkable of the public men in Englstnd. 
 
208 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ' Ames, Fisher, an American statesman and orator, was born in Dedham, 
 Mass., April 9, 1756; and died July 4, 1808. 
 
 ^Hen'ry, Patrick, an American statesman and orator, was born in Yir 
 ginia, 1736 ; and died 1799. His early opportunities of education werft 
 limited ; but he rose above all impediments to great distinction, and 
 became one of the most eloquent men of any age. He was a strenu. 
 ous advocate for American independence. 
 
 ® White' field, George, one of the most eloquent, devoted, and success- 
 ful ministers of Christ, since the days of the apostles, was born ic 
 Gloucester, England, 1714. He stated in his memorandum-book, that, 
 " during a period embracing thirty-four years, he preached upwards of 
 eighteen thousand sermons, crossed the Atlantic seven times, and trav 
 eled thousands of miles both in Britain and America." 
 
 *® Hume, David, author of a celebrated history of England, was born at 
 Edinburgh, 1711 ; and died 1776. 
 
 EARNESTNESS. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 ** Life is not measured by the time we live." 
 
 THE amount of work done, or good accomplished, by an 
 individual, is not measured by the number of days, or 
 months, or years, he may have lived. Some men accom- 
 plish much in a short time. They are burning and shining 
 lights. There is a point and power in all they think, 'and. 
 say, and do. They may not have lived many years ; they 
 may have passed away quickly from the earth ; but they 
 have finished their work. They have left " footprints on 
 the sands of time." Their bodies sleep in peace, but their 
 names live evermore. They have lived long, because they 
 have lived to some good purpose ; they have lived long, 
 because they have accomplished the true ends of life by 
 living wisely and well ; and 
 
 " That life is long which answers life's great end." 
 
 2. The essential element of success in every great un- 
 dertaking, is expressed by a single word ; and that word is 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 209 
 
 EARNESTNESS. It Contains the true secret of nearly all the 
 wonderful successes which have astonished the world. It 
 solves the problem of nearly all the heroes whose achieve- 
 ments are recorded on the pages of history, and whose 
 names will live forever in the remembrance of mankind. 
 In all past time, how few individuals do we find, who have 
 risen to any considerable distinction, and gained an endur- 
 ing reputation, and become truly great, and have left their 
 mark upon the age in which they lived, who were not 
 
 EARNEST MEN. 
 
 3. One of the most prolific of living writers, whose 
 books astonish us by the vast research and varied learning 
 which they display, was once asked how, in the midst of 
 the duties of a laborious profession, he had been able to 
 accomplish so much. He rephed, — " By being a whole 
 man to one thing at a time," — in other words, by being 
 an earnest man. The celebrated Charles James Fox^ 
 once said, that " no man ever went successfully through 
 with any great enterprise, whose earnestness did not 
 amount almost to enthusiasm." There are so many ob- 
 stacles in the way of any great achievement, that none 
 but the earnest and enthusiastic will persevere, and hold 
 on to its final accomplishment. The irresolute, the timid, 
 the phlegmatic, after a few faint efforts, will give up in 
 despair. 
 
 4. It would be easy to furnish examples of the practical 
 power of earnestness almost indefinitely. The world is 
 full of them. Look at Christopher Columbus. Consider 
 the disheartening difficulties and vexatious delays he had 
 to encounter, — the doubts of the skeptical, the sneers of 
 the learned, the cavils of the cautious, and the opposition, 
 or at least the indifference, of nearly all. And then the 
 dangers of an untried, unexplored ocean. Is it by any 
 
 14 
 
210 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 means probable lie would have persevered, had he not 
 possessed that earnest enthusiasm, which was character- 
 istic of the great discoverer' ? 
 
 5. What mind can conceive or tongue can tell the great 
 results which have followed, and will continue to follow in 
 all coming time, from what this single ir dividual accom- 
 plished ? A new continent has been disc overed ; nations 
 planted, whose wealth and power already begin to eclipse 
 those of the Old World, and whose emj)ires stretch far 
 away beneath the setting sun. Instituti )ns of learning, 
 liberty, and religion, have been establishe i on the broad 
 basis of equal rights to all. It is tiTie, America might 
 have been discovered by what we call som 3 fortunate acci- 
 dent. But, in all probability, it would have remained 
 unknown for centuries, had not some earnest man^ like 
 Columbus, arisen, whose adventurous spirit would be 
 roused, rather than repressed, by difficulty and danger. 
 
 6. John Howard, the philanthropist, is another remarka- 
 ble illustration of the power of intense earnestness joined 
 with great decision of character. '-'• He spent his whole 
 life in taking the gauge of human misery," — in visiting 
 prisons and penitentiaries, and the abodes of poverty and 
 wretchedness. He sought to alleviate human suffering 
 wherever he found it, — to ameliorate the condition of the 
 degraded, the distressed, and the unfortunate, by all the 
 means in his power. In the prosecution of his object, diffi- 
 culties did not discourage, nor did dangers appall him. He 
 traveled repeatedly on foot over most of Europe, submit- 
 ting to almost every hardship and privation ; and we are 
 told that the existence of the plague, even, did not deter 
 him from visiting any place where he thought suffering 
 humanity could be benefited by his presence. 
 
 7. Sir William Jones,^ who acquired the knowledge of 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 211 
 
 twenty-eight different languages, when asked how his won- 
 derful attainments in almost every branch of learning had 
 been made, was accustomed to reply, — " Only by industry 
 and regular application." And New^ton, whose scientific 
 discoveries will ever continue to delight and astonish man- 
 kind, ascribed his success, not to superior genius, but to 
 superior industry^ — to the habit and power he had ac- 
 quired of holding his mind steadily, and for a long time, to 
 the study of an involved and difficult subject. '' The dis- 
 covery of gravitation, the grand secret of the universe, 
 was not whispered in his ear by an oracle. It did not 
 visit him in a morning dream. It did not fall into his idle 
 lap, a windfall from the clouds. But he reached it by self- 
 denying toil, — by midnight study, — by the large com- 
 mand of accurate science, and by bending all his powers 
 in one direction, and keeping them thus bent." 
 
 8. So, in every occupation of life requiring intellectual, 
 or even physical exertion, earnestness is an essential ele- 
 ment of success. Without it, a man may have the strength 
 of Hercules,^ or the mind of Newton, and yet accomplish 
 nothing. He may live, and die, and yet leave behind him 
 neither name nor memorial. Was there ever a man, of 
 any trade or profession, eminently successful, who did not 
 apply himself in earnest to his business' ? Every poet, 
 whose Muse has clothed 
 
 " Whatever the heart of man admires and loves 
 With music and with numbers," 
 
 whose breathinor thouo;hts and winijed woixls have thrilled 
 the world, from the blind old bard* of Scio to the modern 
 Homer, " whose soul was like a star, and dwelt apart," 
 has been an earnest man. Every orator, whose burning 
 
 * Homer. Seep. 106. 
 
212 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 eloquence has swayed listening thousands, just as the for- 
 est is swayed by the summer's wind, has been an earnest 
 man, 
 
 9. Demosthenes^ was in earnest when he poured forth 
 his fervid Philippics in ancient Athens. Paul was in ear- 
 nest, when, reasoning of righteousness, temperance, and a 
 judgment to come, Felix trembled before him. Sheridan^ 
 was in earnest at the trial of Hastings, when all parties 
 were held chained and spell-bound by his eloquence. 
 Brougham^ was in earnest, when, as we are told, "he 
 thundered and lightened in the House of Commons, until 
 the knio;hts of the shire absolutely clunor to the benches for 
 support, the ministers cowered behind the speaker's chair 
 for shelter, and the voting members started from their 
 slumbers in the side galleries, as if the last trumpet were 
 ringing in their ears." And so of our own Ames^ and 
 Henry .^ They were in earnest, Avhen, seeking to arouse 
 their countrymen to united resistance of British oppres- 
 sion, they assured them that they " could almost hear the 
 clanking of their chains ; " " that the blood of their sons 
 should fatten their cornfields, and the war-whoop of the 
 Indian should waken the sleep of the cradle." And 
 because they were in earnest, their words were words 
 of fire. 
 
 10. Earnestness was the true secret of Whitefield's^ 
 wonderful eloquence. He won the admiration of the 
 skeptical Hume,^^ not by his logic or his learning, but by 
 his fervid, earnest eloquence. David Garrick, the cele- 
 brated actor, was once asked, by a clergyman, Avhy the 
 speaking of actors produced so much greater effect than 
 that of clergymen. "Because," said Garrick, "we utter 
 fiction as if it were truth, while you utter truth as if it 
 were fiction ; " thus clearly implying that earnestness is the 
 very soul of all effective eloquence. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 213 
 
 LESSON LVIII. 
 
 INCENTIVES TO CULTURE. 
 
 R. F. TROWBRIDGE. 
 
 niHERE is no talent, like method; and no accomplishment 
 _L that man can possess, like perseverance. They will 
 overcome every obstacle ; and there is no position which a 
 young man may not hope to win or secnre, when, guided 
 by these principles, he sets out upon the great highway of 
 life. In after years, the manners and habits of the man are 
 not so readily adapted to any prescribed course to which 
 they have been unaccustomed. But in youth the habit of 
 S7/stem, method, and indmtry, is as easily formed as others ; 
 and the benefits and enjoyments which result from it, 
 are more than the wealth and honors which they always 
 secure. 
 
 2. Industry or idleness are habits, each as easily acquired 
 as the other, but infinitely different in their results. The 
 steady action of the one is a continuous source of gratifica- 
 tion and enjoyment ; the painful solicitudes and uncertain- 
 ties of the other dwai-f the intellect, and vitiate the heart. 
 Either becomes habitual without effort, and the habit be- 
 comes fixed ere we are aware of its presence. 
 
 3. A man does not know in what path his ambition may 
 lead him, until he has enlightened his mind by reading, by 
 thought, and observation. In our country, he is taught 
 by custom and by example to look about him while yet a 
 youth, and study the chances for success as they may arise 
 around him. He is too liable to fall into a listless habit of 
 waiting for some fortuitous circumstance to occur, by 
 which he may make sudden wealth, or spring to an envia- 
 ble position, without the ordinary labors to secure them. 
 
214 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 4. Men of genuine ambition never wait for uncertain 
 events. They commence, as all men have to commence, 
 with the very first steps of the foundation ; and while others, 
 of perhaps better abilities and more fortunate condition, 
 are nursing their morbid hopes and fading expectations, 
 they build up the basis of a fortune and reputation, to 
 which the less energetic and useful may aspire in vain. 
 True men create circumstances, which, in turn, aid them. 
 
 5. Frankness, candor, and sincerity, will always win 
 respect and friendship, and will always retain them ; and 
 the consciousness of having such a treasure, and of being 
 worthy of it, is more than wealth and honors. A man 
 quickly finds when he is unworthy of public respect or 
 private friendship ; and the leaden weight he carries ever 
 in his callous heart, can not be lightened by any success or 
 any gratification he can secure. But the man of upright 
 character, and proper self-respect, can never meet with ad- 
 versities which can deprive him of that higher happiness 
 which rests in his own breast, and which no disasters of 
 business, or calamities of occupation, or loss of wealth, can 
 ever reach or disturb. 
 
 6. Education is not confined to books alone. The world 
 with its thousand interests and occupations is a great school. 
 But the recorded experience and wisdom of others may be 
 of the greatest aid and benefit to us. We can look about 
 US to-day, and see many who have brought the light of 
 that intelligence which has been the guiding-star of others 
 to bear upon their own paths, and by its aid have achieved 
 an enviable position among men. Honor lies in doing well 
 whatever we find to do ; and the world estimates a man's 
 abilities in accordance with his success in whatever busi- 
 ness or profession he may engage. 
 
 7. In this great land of ours, what opportunities invite 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. ' 215 
 
 the attention and stimulate the ambition of the American 
 citizen ! Spreading out her area of civilization and of com- 
 merce over the imperial dominions of this vast continent, 
 what fields of enterprise are constantly opening, and what 
 opportunities for wealth, or honor, or fame, are continually 
 developing before him ! What cities and ports and avenues 
 are to be built, what new Lowells and Saratogas are to 
 arise, what Bostons and New Yorks are to spring from 
 the commerce of that western shore ! Who are to be the 
 architects of this imperial undertaking ? Whose minds are 
 to conceive, and whose hands are to construct, these mag- 
 nificent fabrics of national and individual prosperity and 
 power ? 
 
 8. Surely the generation which is now coming upon the 
 theater of action, has this great mission to perform. To 
 them is held out a prize such as the world has never before 
 offered, to stimulate the pride, patriotism, and ambition of 
 any people. And they will profit by the opportunity. To 
 those who have prepared themselves for the duties and the 
 labors of this eminent undertaking, will fall the honors 
 and rewards of the enterprise. And to their charge will 
 be intrusted the honor and integrity of that flag, which, 
 first waved along a narrow strip of the wild Atlantic coast, 
 but which, if we are true to our own interests, will bo 
 hailed in every land and upon every sea as the emblem of 
 earth's noblest nation. 
 
 LESso:^r Lix. 
 
 "AND THEN?" 
 
 An excellent effect will be produced by having one member of the class 
 ask the question, "And Thex 1 " at the close of each stanza, and the same 
 member read the closing stanza in a very emphatic manner. Or it may be 
 read by the whole class in concert. 
 
216 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 1. A YOUTH told proudly his hopes and plans, 
 
 iJL With his own strong hand all his future drew. 
 To the calm old man, earth-tired, Heaven-bound, 
 Who answered, from all that his great heart knew, 
 Only these words, "And Then'?" — 
 
 2, With a steady foot and a willing hand, 
 
 I will cHmb to Earth's treasure-hold, 
 And claim my share of the wealth she hoards 
 For her favored, — the brave and the bold. 
 " And Then'?" — 
 
 8. And then, w^ith this w^and in my happy hand, 
 I'll gather her gems at will ; 
 I'll summon each draught of her pleasure-fount 
 Till it fail, or my goblet I fill. 
 "And Then'?" — 
 
 4. Oh ! then I'll try Fame, and I'll coax till I win 
 
 From the noble old laurel a wreath ; 
 This I'll cherish and keep, 'tis Earth's choicest gift. 
 And its life-dew her balmiest breath. 
 " And Then'?" — 
 
 5. I'll be kindly, and share of my wealth and my joy ; 
 
 So I'll bind many souls to my own : 
 For I'd sooner be prince of a dozen warm hearts 
 Than a monarch of many a throne. 
 " And then'?" — 
 
 6. Why, then I'll be getting to staid middle age. 
 
 And the world will be Eden no more ; 
 But I'll choose me an Eve, and build me a home, 
 And be found at my own open door, 
 "And Then'?" — 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 211 
 
 7. Tlien^ — then I'll grow old of a quaint old age, 
 In the midst of my pleasure and peace ; 
 So muffled in treasure, and comfort, and love, 
 That to my ear Earth's discord shall cease. 
 "And Then'?" — 
 
 80 I'll grow older and older ; and then, I suppose, 
 Life and I will grow weary — and — why — 
 As my fathers have done, as my children must do. 
 
 So Z, in my ripeness, shall die ! 
 
 "And Then'?" 
 
 9. Oh ! then will the vail of Death's portal be rent, 
 And unto each soul shall be given 
 The awards of this life, howe'er it was spent, — 
 Undying regrets, or the joys of Heaven ; 
 Then, and forever then I 
 
 LESSOlSr LX. 
 WHAT IS LIFE? 
 
 CHARLES D. DRAKE. 
 
 AN Eagle flew up in his heavenward flight. 
 Far out of the reach of human sight. 
 And gazed on the earth from the lordly hight 
 
 Of his sweeping and lone career : 
 "And this is Life ! " he exultingly screams, 
 " To soar without fear where the lightning gleams. 
 And look unblenched on the sun's dazzling beams. 
 As they blaze through the upper sphere." 
 10 
 
218 SANDEKS' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 2. A Lion sprang forth from his bloody bed, 
 
 And roared till it seemed he would wake the dead ; 
 And man and beast from him wildly fled, 
 
 As though there were death in the tone : 
 "And this is Life ! " he triumpliantly cried, 
 " To hold my domain in. the forest wide, 
 Imprisoned by naught but the ocean's tide, 
 
 And the ice of the frozen zone." 
 
 8. " It is Life,'' said a Whale, " to swim the deep ; 
 O'er hills submerged and abysses to sweep. 
 Where the gods of ocean their vigils keep, 
 
 In the fathomless gulfs below ; 
 To bask on the bosom of tropical seas, 
 And inhale the fragrance of Ceylon's breeze, 
 Or sport where the turbulent waters freeze, 
 
 In the cHmes of eternal snow." 
 
 4. " It is Life," says a tireless Albatross, 
 
 " To skim through the air when the dark waves toss 
 In the storm that has swept the earth across. 
 
 And never to wish for rest ; 
 To sleep on the breeze as it softly flies, 
 My perch in the air, my shelter the skies. 
 And build my nest on the billows that rise 
 
 And break with a pearly crest." 
 
 6. " It is Life," says a wild Gazelle, " to leap 
 From crag to crag of the mountainous steep, 
 Where the cloud's icy tears in purity sleep, 
 
 Like the marble brow of death ; 
 To stand unmoved on the outermost verge 
 Of the perilous hight, and watch the surge 
 Of the waters beneath, that onward urge. 
 
 As if sent by a demon's breath." 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 219 
 
 6. " It is Life," I hear a Butterfly say, 
 
 " To revel in blooming gardens by day, 
 And nestle in cups of flowerets gay, 
 
 When the stars the heavens illume ; 
 To steal from the rose its delicate hue. 
 And sip from the hyacinth glittering dew, 
 And catch from beds of the violet blue 
 
 The breath of its gentle perfume." 
 
 7. " It is Life," a majestic War-horse neighed, 
 " To prance in the glare of battle and blade, 
 Where thousands in terrible death are laid, 
 
 And scent of the streaming gore ; 
 To dash, unappalled, through the fiery heat, 
 And trample the dead beneath my feet, 
 'Mid the trumpet's clang, and the drum's loud beat. 
 
 And the hoarse artillery's roar." 
 
 8. " It is Life," said a Savage, with hideous yell, 
 " To roam unshackled the mountain and dell, 
 And feel my bosom with majesty swell. 
 
 As the primal monarch of all ; 
 To gaze on the earth, the sky, and the sea. 
 And feel that, like them, I am chainless and free, 
 And never, while breathing, to bend the knee, 
 
 But at the Manitou's* call." 
 
 9. An aged Christian went tottering by. 
 
 And white was his hair, and dim was his eye, 
 ^: • And his wasted spirit seemed ready to fly, 
 As he said, with faltering breath, 
 
 * Man' I Tou, {man' i too,) a spirit, god, or devil, of the American In- 
 dians. 
 
220 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 " It is Life to move from the heart's first throes, 
 Through youth and manhood to age's snows, 
 In a ceaseless circle of joys and woes, — 
 It is Life to prepare for Death ! " 
 
 lesso:n^ lxl 
 
 ^ Gib' BON, Edward, the celebrated English historian, was bom at Putney, 
 1737 ; and died in London, 1794. His " Decline and Fall of the Roman 
 Empire " is a work of great merit, and its extraordinary union of ex- 
 cellences — variety, correctness, and vigor of narrative and descrip- 
 tion — deepens the regret with which we contemplate the skeptical 
 taint that is diffused through its pages. 
 
 ^ Leib'nitz, Godfrey William, an eminent mathematician and philoso- 
 pher, was born at Leipsic, 1646 ; and died at Hanover, 1716. Within 
 the vast region of speculative thought, there was no department un- 
 visited by the ever-living activity of Leibnitz, or unillumined by his brill- 
 iancy. He has left the firm impress of his intellect upon the minds 
 of jurists, historians, theologians, naturalists, mathematicians, and 
 metaphysicians of the highest order. 
 
 * Pas' cal, Blaise, an eminent geometrician and writer, was born in 
 
 France, 1623 ; and died 1662. During a protracted illness, he had such 
 an overwhelming sense of the importance of religion, that he resolved 
 to renounce all his scientific and secular pursuits, and to apply his mind 
 exclusively to the study of theology, and the means by which* he might 
 promote the best interests of his felloAv-men. 
 
 * Cic' E RO, Marcus Tullius, the most famous of Roman orators, was bom 
 
 106 before Christ, and was murdered by order of Mark Antony, 43 b.c. 
 
 ^ Raph' a el, Santi or Sanzo, the most celebrated of Italian painters, was 
 born April 6, 1483 ; and died at Rome, on his birthday, April 6, 1520, 
 aged thirty-seven years. Raphael's greatest works are unrivaled, and 
 his fame soars above that of all his competitors, not excepting Michael 
 Angelo himself. He is universally acclaimed the Prince of Painters, 
 and chiefly for those lofty sentimental qualities of his works, which all 
 can feel, but few describe. 
 
 « Homes and Milton. See notes pp. 106, 107. 
 
UNION FIFTH BEADEK. 221 
 
 PLEASURES OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 SYDNEY SMITH. 
 
 IT is NOBLE to seek Truth, and it is beautiful to find it. 
 It is the feeling of the human heart, that knowledge is 
 better than riches ; and it is deeply and sacredly true. To 
 mark the course of human passions as they have flowed on 
 in the ages that are past ; to see why nations have risen, 
 and why they have fallen ; to speak of heat, and light, 
 and the winds ; to know what man has discovered in the 
 heavens above, and in the earth beneath ; to hear the 
 chemist unfold the marvelous properties that the Creator 
 has locked up in a speck of earth ; to be told that there 
 are worlds so distant from our own, that the quicknirss of 
 light, traveling from the world's creation, has never yet 
 reached us ; to wander in the creations of poetry, and 
 grow warm again with that eloquence which swayed the 
 democracies of the Old World ; to go up with great rea- 
 soners to the First Cause of all, and to perceive, in the 
 midst of all this dissolution, and decay, and cruel separa- 
 tion, that there is one thing unchangeable, indestructible, 
 and everlasting, — it is worth while, in the days of our 
 youth, to strive hard for this great discipline ; to pass sleep- 
 iest nights for it ; to give up for it laborious days ; to spurn 
 for it present pleasures ; to endure for it afflicting poverty ; 
 to wade for it through darkness, and sorrow, and contempt, 
 as the great spirits of the world have done in all ages, and 
 in all times. 
 
 2. I appeal to the experience of any man who is in the 
 habit of exercising his mind vigorously and well, whether 
 there is not a satisfaction in it, which tells him he has been 
 acting up to one of the great objects of his existence. The 
 end of nature has been answered : his faculties have done 
 
222 SANDERS* XJNIOK SERIES. 
 
 that which they were created to do, — not languidly occu- 
 pied upon trifles, nor enervated by sensual gratification, 
 but exercised in that toil which is so congenial to their 
 nature, and so worthy of their strength. 
 
 3. A life of knowledge is not often a life of injury and 
 crime. Whom does such a man oppress ? with whose hap- 
 piness does he interfere? whom does his ambition destroy? 
 and whom does his fraud deceive ? In the pursuit of sci- 
 ence he injures no man^ and. In the acquisition, he does good 
 to all. A man who dedicates his life to knowledge, be- 
 comes habituated to pleasure which carries with it no re- 
 proach : and there is one security that he will never love 
 that pleasure which is paid for by anguish of heart. His 
 pleasures are all cheap, all dignified, and all innocent; 
 and, as far as any human being can expect permanence in 
 this changing scene, he has 'secured a happiness which no 
 malignity of fortune can ever take away, but which must 
 cleave to him while he lives, ameliorating every good, and 
 diminishing every evil of his existence. . . . 
 
 4. The prevailing idea with young people has been, the 
 incompatibility of labor and genius; and, therefore, from 
 the fear of being thought dull, they have thought it neces- 
 sary to remain ignorant. I have seen, at school and at 
 college, a great many young men completely destroyed by 
 having been so unfortunate as to produce an excellent copy 
 of verses. Their genius being now established, all that re- 
 mained for them to do was to act up to the dignity of the 
 character ; and as this dignity consisted in reading nothing 
 new, in forgetting what they had already read, and in pre- 
 tending to be acquainted with all subjects by a sort of 
 off-hand exertion of talents, they soon collapsed into the 
 most frivolous and insignificant of men. 
 
 5. It would be an extremely profitable thing to draw up 
 
UNION FIFTH BEADER. 223 
 
 a short and well-authenticated account of the habits of 
 study of the most celebrated writers, with whose style of 
 literary industry we happen to be most acquainted. Gib- 
 bon^ was in his study every morning, winter and summer, 
 at six o'clock ; Mr. Burke was the most laborious and in- 
 defatigable of human beings ; Leibnitz^ was never out of 
 his library; PascaP killed himself by study ; Cicero* nar- 
 rowly escaped death by the same cause ; Milton was at his 
 books with as much regularity as a merchant or an attor- 
 ney ; he had mastered all the knowledge of his time : so 
 had Homer. RaphaeP lived but thirty-seven years, and 
 in that short space carried his art so far beyond what it 
 had before reached, that he appears to stand alone as a 
 model to his successors. 
 
 6. There are instances to the contrary ; but, generally 
 speaking, the hfe of all truly great men has been a life of 
 intense and incessant labor. They have commonly passed 
 the first half of life in the gross darkness of indigent 
 humility, — overlooked, mistaken, contemned, by weaker 
 men, — thinking while others slept, reading while others 
 rioted, feeling something within that told them they should 
 not always be kept down among the dregs of the world. 
 And then, when their time was come, and some little acci- 
 dent has given them their first occasion, they have burst 
 out into the fight and glory of public life, rich with the 
 spoils of time, and mighty in all the labors and struggles 
 of the mind. 
 
 7. Then do the multitude cry out, — "^ miracle of 
 genius!^'' Yes; he is a miracle of genius, because he is a 
 miracle of labor ; because, instead of trusting to the re- 
 sources of his own single mind, he has ransacked a thou- 
 sand minds ; because he. makes use of the accumulated 
 wisdom of ages, and takes as his point of departure the 
 
224 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 very last line and boundary to which science has advanced ; 
 because it has ever been the object of his life to assist every 
 intellectual gift of nature, however munificent, and how- 
 ever splendid, with every resource that art could suggest, 
 and every attention dihgence could bestow. 
 
 8. But some men may be disposed to ask, — " Why con- 
 duct my understanding with such endless care ? and what 
 is the use of so much knowledge ? *' What is the use of 
 so much knowledo-e ? What is the use of so much life ? 
 What are we to do with the seventy years of existence 
 allotted to us ? and how are we to live them out to the 
 last ? I solemnly declare, that, but for the love of knowl- 
 edge, I should consider the life of the meanest liedger and 
 ditcher as preferable to that of the greatest and richest 
 man in existence ; for the fire of our minds is like the fire 
 which the Persians burn on the mountains, — it flames 
 night and day, and is immortal, and not to be quenched ! 
 Upon something it must act and feed, — upon the pure 
 spirit of knowledge, or upon the foul di'egs of polluting 
 passions. 
 
 9. Therefore, when I say, in conducting your under- 
 standing, love knowledge with a great love, — with a vehe- 
 ment love, with a love coeval with life, — what do I say but 
 love innocence ; love virtue ; love purity of conduct ; love 
 that which, if you are rich and great, will sanctify the 
 Providence which has made you so, and make men call it 
 justice ; love that which, if you are poor, will render your 
 poverty respectable, and make the proudest feel it unjust 
 to laugh at the meanness of your fortunes ; love that which 
 will comfort you, adorn you, and never quit you, — which 
 will open to you the kingdom of thought, and all the 
 boundless regions of conception, as an asylum against the 
 cruelty, the injustice, and the pain that may be your lot 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 225 
 
 in the outer world, — that which will make your motives 
 habitually great and honorable, and light up in an instant 
 a thousand noble disdains at the very thought of meanness 
 and of fraud ? 
 
 10. Therefore, if any young man have embarked his life 
 in the pursuit of Knowledge, let him go on without doubt- 
 ing or fearing the event : let him not be intimidated by the 
 cheerless beginnings of Knowledge, by the darkness from 
 which she springs, by the difficulties which hover around 
 her, by the ^\'Tetched habitations in which she dwells, by 
 the want and sorrow which sometimes journey in her 
 train ; but let him ever follow her as the Angel that 
 guards him, and as the Genius of his life. She will bring 
 him out at last into the light of day, and exhibit him to the 
 world comprehensive in acquirements, fertile in resources, 
 rich in imagination, strong in reasoning, prudent and pow- 
 erful above his fellows in all the relations and in all the 
 offices of life. 
 
 LESSON LXII. 
 
 * Rus' KIN, John, was born in London in the year 1819. In 1843, he pub- 
 lished a work entitled "Modern Painters," in which he advocates the 
 claims of the moderns over the ancients to superiority in the art of 
 landscape-painting. He has published several Avorks since, and is still 
 devoted to the study of his art. The brilliancy of his diction, and 
 splendor of his style, never fail to secure the admiration of all. 
 
 MAN AND THE INDUSTRIAL ARTS. 
 
 DR. GEORGE WILSON. 
 
 THE Industrial Arts are necessary arts. The most 
 degraded savage must practice them, and the most 
 civilized genius can not dispense with them. Whatever 
 be our gifts of intellect or fortune, we can not avoid being 
 15 
 
226 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 hungry, and thirsty, and cold, and weary, every day ; and 
 we must fight for our lives against the hunger, and thirst, 
 and cold, and weariness, which wage an unceasing war 
 against us. But, though the Industrial Arts are common, 
 they are not Ignoble arts. They minister, indeed, to those 
 physical wants which we share with the lower animals ; 
 but we are'raised above them as much by being industrial 
 as by being aesthetic artists. We are the former by virtue 
 of our superior intellect^ as we are the latter by virtue of 
 our superior imagination. 
 
 2. It is with every-day life, and every-day cares, that 
 the Industrial Arts have to do, — with man, not as "a lit- 
 tle lower than the angels,"* but "as crushed before the 
 moth," and weaker th^n the weakest of the beasts that 
 perish, — with man as a hungry, thirsty^ restless, quarrel- 
 some, naked animal. But man^ because he Is this, and 
 just because he Is this, is raised, by the industrial conquests 
 which he is compelled to achieve, to a place of power and 
 dignity, separating him by an absolutely immeasurable in- 
 terval from every other animal. 
 
 3. It might appear, at first sight, as if It were not so. 
 As Industrial creatures, we often look like wretched copy- 
 ists of animals far beneath us In the scale of organization ; 
 and we seem to confess as much by the names which w^e 
 give them. The mason-wasp, the carpenter-bee, the min- 
 ing caterpillars, the quarrying sea-slugs, execute their work 
 in a way which we can not rival or excel. The bird Is 
 an ex'quisite architect ; the beaver a most skillful bridge- 
 builder ; the silk-worm the most beautiful of weavers ; the 
 spider the best of net-makers. Each Is a perfect craftsman, 
 and each lias his tools always at hand. 
 
 4. Those wise creatures will do one thing rather than 
 another, and do that one thing in different ways at differ- 
 
UNION FIFTH READEE. 227 
 
 ent times. A bird, for example, selects a place to build its 
 nest, and accommodates its form to the particular locality 
 it has chosen ; and a bee alters the otherwise invariable 
 shape of its cell, when the space it is working in forbids it 
 to carry out its hexagonal plan. Yet it is impossible to 
 watch these, or others among the lower animals, and fail 
 to see that, to a great extent, they are mere living machines^ 
 saved from the care and anxiety which lie so heavily upon 
 us, by their entire contentment with the present, their 
 oblivion of the past, and their indifference to the future. 
 
 5. They do invent, they do design, they do exercise 
 volition in wonderful ways ; but their most wonderful 
 works imply neither invention, contrivance, nor volition, 
 but only a placid, pleasant, easily-rendered obedience to 
 instincts which reign without rivals, and justify their des- 
 potic rule by the infallible happiness which they secure. 
 There is nothing, accordingly, obsolete, nothing tentative, 
 nothing progressive, in the labors of the most wonderful 
 mechanicians among the lower animals. It has cost none 
 of these ingenious artists any intellectual effort to learn its 
 craft ; for God gave it to each perfect in the beginning ; 
 and within the circle to which they apply, the rules which 
 guide their work are infallible, and know no variation. 
 
 6. No feathered Ruskin^ appears among the birds, to dis- 
 cuss before them whether their nests should be built on the 
 principles of Grecian or Gothic architecture. No beaver, 
 in advance of his age, patents a diving-bell. No glow- 
 worm advocates, in the hearing of her conservative sisters, 
 the merits of new vesta-lights, or improved lucifer-matches. 
 The silk-worms entertain no propositions regarding the 
 substitution of machinery for bodily labor. The spiders 
 never divide the House on the question of a Ten-hours 
 Working Bill. The ants are as one on their Corn-laws. 
 
228 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 The bees never alter their tax upon sugar, nor dream of 
 lessening the severities of their penal code ; their drones 
 are slaughtered as relentlessly as they were three thousand 
 years ago ; nor has a solitary change been permitted, since 
 first there were bees, in any of their singular domestic 
 institutions. 
 
 7. To those wise creatures the Author of all has given, 
 not only infallible rules for their work, but unfaltering faith 
 in them. Labor is for them not a doubt, but a certainty. 
 Duty is the same thing as happiness. They never grow 
 weary of life ; and death never surprises them. We are 
 industrial for other reasons, and in a different way. Our 
 working instincts are very few ; our faith in them still 
 more feeble ; and our physical wants far greater than those 
 of any other creature. 
 
 8. With the intellects of angels, and the bodies of earth- 
 worms, we have the power to conquer, and the need to do 
 it. The Industrial Arts are the result of our destitution 
 and necessities. The Fine Arts may be gracefully grouped 
 round the five senses, — the eye to the painter, the ear 
 to the musician, the tongue to the poet, the hand to the 
 sculptor, and the whole body, the instrument of touch, 
 among all. The Fine Arts thus begin each Avith a special 
 sense, and converge toward the body ; the Industrial Arts 
 begin with the body, and diverge toward the special 
 senses. . . . 
 
 9. The shivering savage in the colder countries robs the 
 seal and the bear, the buffalo and the deer, of the one 
 mantle which Nature has given them. The wild hunts- 
 man, by a swift but simple transmutation, becomes the 
 clothier, the tailor, the tanner, the currier, the leather- 
 dresser, the glover, the saddler, the shoemaker, the tent- 
 Vnaker. And the tent-maker becomes quickly a house- 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEB. 229 
 
 builder, building with snow where better material is not 
 to be had ; and a ship-builder, constructing out of a few 
 wooden ribs, and stretched animal-skins, canoes which may 
 survive where our ships of oak have gone to destruction. 
 
 10. The savage of the warmer regions seeks a covering, 
 not from the cold, but from the sun, which smites him by 
 day ; and the moon, which smites him by night. The 
 palm, the banana, the soft-barked trees, the broad-leaved 
 sedges, and long-fibered grasses, are spoiled by him, as the 
 beasts of the field are by his colder brother. He becomes a 
 sower, a reaper, a spinner, a weaver, a baker, a brewer, 
 a distiller, a dyer, a carpenter ; and while he is tliese^ he 
 bends the pliant stems of his tropical forests into roof-trees 
 and rafters, and clothes them with leaves, and makes for 
 himself a tabernacle of boughs, and so is the arch-architect 
 of a second great school of architecture. 
 
 11. It is not, however, his cultivation of the arts which 
 have been named, or of others, that makes man peculiar as 
 an industrial animal ; it is the mode in which he practices 
 them. The first step he takes toward remedying his des- 
 titution and helplessness, is in a direction where no other 
 creature has led the way, and none has followed his exam- 
 ple. He lays hold of that most powerful of all weapons 
 of peace or war, fire^ from which every other animal, 
 unless when fortified by his presence, flees in terror ; and 
 Avith it alone not only clothes himself, but lays the founda- 
 tion of a hundred arts. Man is the only animal that can 
 strike a light, — the solitary creature that knows how to 
 kindle a fire. 
 
 12. Once provided with his kindled brand, the savage 
 technologist soon proves Avhat a scepter of power he holds 
 in his hand. He tills with it ; by a single touch burning 
 up the withered grass of a past season, and scattering its 
 
230 . SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ashes to fertilize the plains, which will quickly be green 
 again. Tt serves him as an ax to fell the tallest trees, and 
 hollows out for him the canoe in which he adventures 
 upon strange seas. It is an all-sufficient defense against 
 the fiercest wild beasts ; and it reduces for him the iroa 
 ore of the rocks, and forges it into a weapon of war. In- 
 deed, his kindled brand makes the savage, without further 
 help, a farmer, a baker, a cook, a carpenter, a smith, a 
 potter, a brick-maker, a lime-burner, and builder ; and, 
 besides much else, a soldier and a sailor. 
 
 13. You may think this sketch of the savage's obliga- 
 tion to fire fanciful and exaggerated ; but if you consider 
 how every human industrial art stands directly or indi- 
 rectly related to fire, while no animal art does, you will 
 not regard the statement as extravagant. The great con- 
 quering people of the world have been those who knew 
 best how to deal with fire. The most wealthy of the 
 active nations are those which dwell in countries richly 
 provided with fuel. No inventions have changed the en- 
 tire world more than steam and gunpowder. We are 
 what we are, largely because we are the ministers and 
 masters of fire. 
 
 14. Every other animal is by nature fully equipped and 
 caparisoned for its work ; its tools are ready for use, and it 
 is ready to use them. We have first to invent our tools, 
 and then to fashion them, and then to learn how to handle 
 them. Man's marvelous hand is, no doubt, in itself, an 
 exquisite instrument of art ; but our hands would be noth- 
 ing to us but for our tvise heads. Two-thirds, at least, of 
 our industrial doings are preliminary. Before two pieces 
 of cloth can be sewed together, we require a needle, which 
 embodies the inventiveness of a hundred ingenious brains; 
 and a hand, which only a hundred botchings and failures 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 231 
 
 have, in the lapse of years, taught to use the instrument 
 with skill. 
 
 15. It is so with all the crafts, and they are inseparably 
 dependent on each other. The mason waits on tlie car- 
 penter for his mallet ; and the carpenter, on the smith for 
 his saw ; the smith, on the smelter for his iron ; and the 
 smelter, on the miner for his ore. Each, moreover, needs 
 the help of all the others. This helplessness of the single 
 craftsman is altogether peculiar to the human artist. The 
 lower animals are all polyartists, and never heard of such a 
 doctrine as that of the division of labor. 
 
 16. The same bee, for example, markets, and bakes bee- 
 bread, and manufactures sugar, and makes w^ax, and builds 
 store-houses, and plans apartments, and nurses the royal 
 infants, and waits upon the queen, and apprehends thieves, 
 and smites to the death the enemies of the Amazons. The 
 nightingale, though he is a poet, builds and furnishes his 
 nest without any help from the raven ; and the lark does 
 not excuse herself from her household duties because she 
 is an excellent musician. 
 
 17. Nor are. there deo-rees of skill amono; the animal 
 artists. Tho beavers pay no consulting fees to eminent 
 beaver-engineers experienced in hydraulics ; the coral in- 
 sects do not offer hicrher wa^es to skilled workmen at reef- 
 ed o 
 
 building ; every nautilus is an equally good sailor ; and 
 the wasps, engaged in "just and necessary wars," offer no 
 bounties to tempt veteran soldiers into their armies. The 
 industrialness, then, of man is carried out in a way quite 
 peculiar to himself, and singularly illustrative of his, com- 
 bined weakness and greatness. The most helpless, physic- 
 ally, of animals, and yet the one with the greatest num- 
 ber of pressing appetites and desires, he has no working 
 instincts to secure the gratification of his most pressing 
 wants, and no tools which such instincts can work with. 
 
232 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 18. He is compelled, therefore, to fall back upon the 
 powers of his reason and understanding^ and make his in- 
 tellect serve him instead of a crowd of instinctive impulses ; 
 and his intellect-guided hand, instead of an apparatus of 
 tools.- Before that hand, armed with the tools which it 
 has fashioned, and that intellect, which marks man as made 
 in the image of God, the instincts and weapons of the en- 
 tire animal creation are as nothing. He reigns, by right 
 of conquest, as indisputably as by right of inheritance, the 
 king of this world. 
 
 LESSON LXIII. 
 THE BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 E. H. BURRINGTON. 
 
 1. liTTALK with the Beautiful, and with the Grand; 
 
 T V Let nothing on the earth thy feet deter ; 
 Sorrow may lead thee weeping by the hand. 
 But give not all thy bosom-thoughts to her: 
 Walk with the Beautiful ! ' 
 
 2. I hear thee say, — " The Beautiful ! what is it?" 
 
 O, thou art darkly ignorant I Be sure 
 'Tis no long, weary road, its form to visit ; 
 For thou canst make it smile beside thy door : 
 Then love the Beautiful ! 
 
 3. Ay? love it ; 'tis a sister that will bless. 
 
 And teach thee patience when thy heart is lonely ; 
 The angels love it ; for they wear its dress ; 
 And thou art made a little lower only : 
 Then love the Beautiful ! 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 23-^ 
 
 4. Some boast its presence in a Grecian face ; * 
 
 Some, in a favorite warbler of the skies ; 
 But be not fooled ! Whate'er thine eye may trace, 
 Seeking the Beautiful, it will arise : 
 Then seek it everywhere, 
 
 5. Thy bosom is its mint; the workmen are 
 
 Thy Thoughts, and they must coin for thee. Believing 
 The Beautiful exists in every star, 
 
 Thou mak'st it so ; and art thyself deceiving, 
 If otherwise thy faith. 
 
 6. Dost thou see Beauty in the violet's cup ? 
 
 I'll teach thee miracles. Walk on this heath, 
 And say to the neglected flowers, — " Look up, 
 And be ye beautiful ! " If thou hast faith, 
 They will obey thy word. 
 
 T. One thing I warn thee : bow no knee to gold ; 
 Less innocent it makes the guileless tonsne ; 
 It turns the feelings prematurely old ; 
 
 And they who keep their best affections young, 
 Best love the Beautiful. 
 
 Questions. 1. What rule for spelling deceiving -with ei, and believing 
 with ie, 5th stanza ? Answer : All words of this class, in which the diph- 
 thong is preceded by the letter c, are spelled with ei ; if the diphthong is 
 preceded by any other letter, they are spelled with ie. 2. What is the 
 meaning of the suffix less in the word guileless, 7th stanza 1 See Sanders* 
 Union Speller, page 143. 
 
 * Gre' cian face. The ancient Grecians were distinguished for their 
 s//inmetrt/ and beauty, many proofs of which may be seen in those exquisite 
 specimens of statuary wliich have been handed down to us as the beau-ideal 
 of the Grecian form. 
 
234 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LXIY. 
 THE BRIGHT FLOWERS. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. /^H ! they look upward in every place 
 \J Tlirough this beautiful world of ours ; 
 And dear as the smile on an old friend's face 
 
 Is the smile of the bright, bright flowers. 
 They tell us of wanderings by wood and streams, 
 
 They tell us of lanes and trees ; 
 But the children of showers and sunny beams 
 
 Have lovelier tales than these, — 
 
 (^All the class) The bright, bright flowers ! 
 
 2. They tell of a season when men were not, 
 
 When earth was by angels trod ; 
 And leaves and flowers at every spot 
 
 Burst forth at the call of God, — 
 When spirits, singing their hymns at even, 
 
 Wandered by wood and glade, 
 And the Lord looked down from the highest heaven, 
 
 And blessed what He had made, — 
 
 (^All the class} The bright, bright flowers ! 
 
 3. The blessing remaineth upon them still. 
 
 Though often the storm-cloud lowers ; 
 And frequent tempests may soil and chill 
 
 The gayest of earth's fair flowers. 
 When Sin and Death, with their sister, Grief, 
 
 Made a home in the hearts of men. 
 The blessing of God in each tender leaf 
 
 Preserved in their beauty then 
 
 (^All the class) The bright, bright flowers I 
 
CTNION FIFTH EEADER. 235 
 
 The lily is lovely as when it slept 
 
 On the waters of Eden's lake ; 
 The woodbine breathes sweetly as when it crept 
 
 In Eden from brake to brake. 
 They were left as a proof of the loveliness 
 
 Of Adam and Eve's first home ; 
 They are here as a type of the joys that bless 
 
 The just in the world to come, — 
 
 (^All the class} The bright, bright flowers ! 
 
 LESSOISr LXV. 
 THE SUMMER RAIN, 
 
 HELEN MITCHELL. 
 
 1. /^H the rain, the beautiful rain ! 
 yj Cheerily, merrily falls. 
 
 Beating its wings 'gainst the window-pane, 
 
 Trickling down the walls, — 
 Over the meadow with pattering feet, 
 Kissing the clover-blossoms sweet,. 
 Singing the blue-bells fiist asleep. 
 Making the pendent willows weep, ^- 
 
 Over the hillside brown. 
 
 Over the dusty town, 
 
 Merrily, cheerily, cometh it down, 
 The rain, the summer rain ! 
 
 2. Oh the rain, the welcome rain ! 
 
 Softly, kindly, it falls 
 On tiny flower and thirsting plain. 
 And vine by the cottage-walls ; 
 
236 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Laughingly tipping the Hly's cup, 
 It filleth the crystal chahce up, 
 Joyously greeting the earth that thrills 
 Through her thousand veins of gathering rills. 
 
 Over the violet's bed, . 
 
 Over the sleeping dead, 
 
 Cometh with kindly tread 
 The rain, the gentle rain ! 
 
 3. Oh the rain, the cheering rain ! 
 
 Drifting slowly, sweetly down, 
 Where spreading fields of golden grain 
 
 The sloping hillsides crown ; 
 Flecking with dimples the lake's calm face, 
 Quickening the schoolboy's tardy pace, 
 Caressing a bud by a wayside stone, 
 Leaving a gem as it passes on, 
 ' In the daisy's breast, 
 
 On the thistle's crest. 
 
 And the buttercup richly blest 
 By the rain, the generous rain ! 
 
 LESSON" LXYL 
 
 A NOBLE REVENGE. 
 
 THOMAS DE QUINCEY. 
 
 A YOUNG officer had so far forgotten himself, in a mo- 
 ment of irritation, as to strike a private soldier, full 
 of personal dignity, and distinguished for his courage. 
 The inex'orable laws of military discipline forbade to the 
 injured soldier any redress, — he could look for no retalia- 
 tion by acts. Words only were at his command ; and, in a 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 237 
 
 tumult of indignation, as lie turned away, the soldier said 
 to his officer that he would " make him repent it." This, 
 wearing the shape of a menace, naturally rekindled the 
 officer's anger, and intercepted any disposition which might 
 be risino; within him toward a sentiment of remorse ; and 
 thus the irritation between the two young men grew hotter 
 than before. 
 
 2. Some weeks after this, a partial action took place with 
 the enemy. Suppose yourself a spectator, and looking 
 down into a valley occupied by the two armies. They are 
 flicing each other, you see, in martial array. But it is no 
 more than a skirmish which is going on ; in the course of 
 which, however, an occasion suddenly arises for a desperate 
 service. A redoubt, which has fallen into the enemy's 
 hands, must be recaptured at any price, and under circum- 
 stances of all but hopeless difficulty. 
 
 3. A strong party has volunteered for the service ; there 
 is a cry for somebody to head them : you see a soldier step 
 out from the ranks to assume this dangerous leadership. 
 The party moves rapidly forward ; in a few minutes it is 
 swallowed up from your eyes in clouds of smoke ; for one 
 half-hour, from behind these clouds you receive hiero- 
 glyphic reports of bloody strife, — fierce-repeating signals, 
 flashes from the guns, rolling musketry, and exulting hur- 
 rahs, advancing or receding, slackening or redoubling. 
 
 4. At length, all is over ; the redoubt has been recov- 
 ered ; that which was lost, is found again ; the jewel 
 which had been made captive, is ransomed with blood. 
 Crimsoned with glorious gore, the wreck of the conquer- 
 ing party is relieved, and at liberty to return. From the 
 river you see it ascending. The plume-crested officer in 
 command rushes forward, with his left hand raising his hat 
 in homage to the blackened fragments of what once was a 
 
238 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 flag, while with his right hand he seizes that of the leader, 
 though no more than a private from the ranks. That per- 
 plexes you not ; mystery you see none in that. For dis- 
 tinctions of order perish, ranks are confounded ; '' high 
 and low " are words without a meaning j and to wreck 
 goes every notion or feeling that divides the noble from 
 the noble, or the brave man from the brave. 
 
 5. But wherefore is it that now, when suddenly they 
 wheel into mutual recognition, suddenly they pause ? 
 This soldier, this officer, — who are they ? O reader ! 
 once before they had stood face to face, — the soldier that 
 was struck, the officer that struck him. Once again they 
 are meeting, and the gaze of armies is upon them. If, for 
 a moment, a doubt divides them, in a moment that doubt 
 has perished. One glance, exchanged between them, pub- 
 lishes the formveness that is sealed forever. 
 
 6. As one who recovers a brother whom he has ac- 
 counted dead, the officer sprang forward, threw his arms 
 around the neck of the soldier, and kissed him, as if he 
 were some martyr glorified by that shadow of death from 
 which he was returning ; while, on his part, the soldier, 
 stepping back, and carrying his open hand through the 
 beautiful motions of the military salute to a superior, makes 
 this immortal answer, — that answer which shut up for- 
 ever the memory of the indignity offered to him, even 
 while, for the last time, alluding to it, — "Sir," he said, 
 " I told you before that I would make you repent it ! " 
 
 7. How admirably does the conduct of this noble soldier 
 exemplify the teachings of the Savior ! — '' But I say unto 
 you, that ye resist not evil. Love your enemies ; bless 
 them that curse you ; do good to them that hate you ; and 
 pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute 
 you ; that ye may be the children of your Father which is 
 in Heaven." 
 
UNION FIFTH BEADEK. 239 
 
 LESSON" LXVII. 
 STORY OF THE SIEGE OF CALAIS. 
 
 HENUY BUOOKE. 
 
 EDWARD III., after the battle of Cressy, laid siege to 
 Calais.* He had fortified his camp in so impregnable 
 a manner that all the efforts of France proved ineffectual 
 to raise the siege, or throw succor into the city. The 
 citizens, under Count Vienne', their gallant governor, 
 made an admirable defense. France had now put the 
 sickle into her second harvest since Edward, Avith his vic- 
 torious army, sat down before the town. The eyes of all 
 Europe were intent on the issue. 
 
 2. At length, famine did more for Edward than arms. 
 After suffering great calamities, they resolved to attempt 
 the enemy's camp. They boldly sallied forth ; the Eng- 
 lish 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. 
 The command devolving upon Eustace St. Pierre', a man 
 of humble birth, but of exalted virtue, he offered to capitu- 
 late with Edward, provided he permitted them to depart 
 with life and liberty. 
 
 3. Edward, to avoid the imputation of cruelty, con- 
 sented to spare the bulk of the plebe'ians, 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 
 common people. When his messenger, Sir Walter Mauny, 
 delivered the terms, consternation and pale dismay were 
 
 * French pronunciation, kaf Id. 
 
240 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 impressed on every countenance. To a long and dead 
 silence deep sighs and grdans succeeded, till Eustace St. 
 Pierre, standing upon a little eminence, thus addressed the 
 assembly : — 
 
 4. "My friends, we are brought to great straits this 
 day. We must either yield to the terms of our cruel and 
 insnaring conqueror, or give up our tender infants, our 
 wives, and our daugliters, to the enemy. 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 god-like expedient left! Is there any here to whom 
 virtue is dearer than life' ? Let him offer himself an obla- 
 tion for the safety of his people ! He shall not fail to live 
 forever in the memories of his countrymen." 
 
 5. He spoke ; but a universal silence ensued. Each man 
 looked around for the example of that virtue and magna- 
 nimity which all wished to approve m themselves, though 
 they wanted the resolution. At length, St. Pierre re- 
 sumed: — " I doubt not but there are many here as ready 
 for, nay, more zealous of, this martyrdom than / can be ; 
 though the station to which I am raised by the captivity of 
 Lord Vienne, imparts a right to be the first in giving my 
 life for your sakes. I give it freely ; I give it cheerfully. 
 Who comes next ? " 
 
 6. " Your son ! " exclaimed a youth not yet come to 
 maturity. 
 
 "Ah, my child!" cried St. Pierre; "I am then twice 
 sacrificed. 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." 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 241 
 
 7. " Your kinsman ! " cried John d'Aire. 
 " Your kinsman I '* cried James Wissant. 
 " Your kinsman ! " cried Peter Wissant. 
 
 ''All!" exclaimed Sir Walter Mauny, bursting into 
 tears, "why was not Za citizen of Calais?" 
 
 8. The sixth victim was 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 
 charfije to his attendants to conduct the remaining^ citizens 
 with their families through the camp of the English. Be- 
 fore they departed, however, they desired permission to 
 take the last adieu of their deliverers. What a parting ! 
 what a scene ! They crowded with their wives and chil- 
 dren about St. Pierre and his fellow-prisoners. They 
 embraced, they clung around, they fell prostrate before 
 them ; 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. 
 
 9. The English, by this time, were apprised of what 
 passed within Calais. They heard the voice of lamenta- 
 tion, and their souls were touched with compassion. Each 
 of the soldiers prepared a portion of his own victuals, to 
 welcome and entertain the half-famished inhabitants ; and 
 they loaded them with as much as their present weakness 
 w^s able to bear, in order to supply them with sustenance 
 by the way. At length, St. Pierre and his fellow-victims 
 appeared, under the conduct of Sir Walter and a guard. 
 
 10. All the tents of the English were instantly emptied. 
 The soldiers poured from all parts, and arranged them- 
 selves on each side, to behold, to contemplate, to admire 
 this little band of patriots as they passed. They bowed to 
 
 n 
 
242 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 them on all sides ; they murmured their applause of that 
 virtue which they could not but revere, even in enemies ; 
 and they regarded those ropes which they had voluntarily 
 assumed about their necks as ensigns of greater dignity 
 than that of knighthood. As soon as they had reached 
 the presence, " Mauny," says the monarch, '' are these 
 the princii:>al inhabitants of Calais?" 
 
 11. "They are," says Mauny ; *'they are not only 
 the principal men of Calais, they are the ])rincipal men 
 of France, my lord, if virtue has any share in the act of 
 ennoblino;." 
 
 "Were they delivered peaceably?" asked 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 are self-delivered^ self-devoted^ and 
 come to offer up their inestimable heads as an ample 
 equivalent for the ransom of thousands." 
 
 12. Edward was secretly piqued at this reply of Sir 
 Walter ; but he knew the privilege of a British subject, 
 and suppressed his 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 submission by punishment and ex- 
 ample. Go," he cried to an officer, "lead these men to 
 execution ! " 
 
 13. At this instant a sound of triumph Avas heard 
 throughout the camp. The queen had just arrived with 
 a powerful re-enforcement of gallant troops. Sir Walter 
 Mauny flew to receive her majesty, and briefly informed 
 her of the particulars respecting the six victims. As soon 
 as she had been welcomed by Edward and his court, she 
 desired a private audience. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 243 
 
 14. " My lord," said she, '' the question I am to enter 
 upon is not touching the hves of a few mechanics ; it 
 respects the honor of the English nation ; it respects the 
 glory of my Edward, my husband, my king. You think 
 you have sentenced six of your enemies to death. No, my 
 lord ; they have sentenced themselves ; and their execu- 
 tion 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 to his conquests, an indelible dis- 
 grace to his name. 
 
 15. " Let us rather disappoint these haughty citizens, 
 who wish to invest themselves with glory at our expense. 
 We can not wholly deprive them of the merit of a sacri- 
 fice so nobly intended ; but we may cut them short of 
 their desires. In the place of that death, by which their 
 glory would be consummated, let us bury them under 
 gifts; let us put them to confusion with aj)plauses. We 
 shall thereby defeat them of that popular opinion Avhich 
 never fails to attend those who sufibr in the cause of 
 virtue." 
 
 16. " I am convinced ; you have prevailed. Be it so," 
 replied Edward. '' Prevent the execution ; have them 
 instantly before us." 
 
 They came ; when the queen, PhiHppa, w^ith an aspect 
 and accents diffusing sweetness, thus besj)oke them : — 
 
 17. " Natives of Prance, and Inhabitants of Calais : 
 You have put us to a vast expense of blood and treas- 
 ure in the recovery of our just and natural inherit- 
 ance ; but you have acted up to the best of an erroneous 
 judgment, and we admire ana hcmor in you that valor and 
 virtue by which Ave were so long kept out of our rightful 
 possessions. You noble, you excellent citizens! though you 
 
244 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 were tenfold the enemies of our person and our throne, 
 \ve can feel nothing on our part save respect and affection 
 for you. You have been sufficiently tested. 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 of 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. 
 
 18. " You are now free to depart to your kinsfolk, your 
 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 Ed- 
 ward has to bestow. Rivals for fame, but always friends 
 to virtue, we wish that England were entitled to call you 
 her sons." 
 
 "Ah, my country!" exclaimed Pierre, "it is now that 
 I tremble for you ! Edward only wins our cities ; but 
 Philippa conquers our hearts ! " 
 
 LESSOIT LXYIII. 
 THE TRUE LEGION OF HONOR. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. A GOLDEN banner, bright and beaming, 
 iX Waves upon a lofty tower ; 
 Far and wide its rays are streaming, 
 Gathering brightness every hour ; 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 245 
 
 And upon it there is written, 
 As in words of flaming fire, — 
 (< ) '' Onward, onward, ever onward! 
 Higlier, higher still aspire ! '* 
 
 2. And around that glorious standard 
 
 Gathers many a noble kniglit, 
 Men of every clime and color. 
 
 To do battle for the Right. 
 But they need no sword or buckler, 
 
 Helmet, lance, or bayonet keen : 
 No ; they wield far mightier weapons, — 
 
 Weapons mightier, tliougli unseen. 
 
 3. Yes ; they are a band of heroes, 
 
 High in liope, of valor true, 
 Warrino- Vainst the world's sad evils, — 
 
 Nobler field than Waterloo. 
 Though no glitter marks their conquests, 
 
 Though no trumpet sounds their praise, 
 Worthy they of liighest honors, 
 
 Worthy of immortal lays. 
 
 4. Conquerors are they, though no cities 
 
 Are by them in ruins laid ; 
 Though no waiHngs mark their progress, 
 
 Smoking piles and heaps of dead. 
 Theirs it is to war with Error, 
 
 Falsehood's mask aside to tear ; 
 And, where Superstition triumphs, 
 
 Plant the flag of knowledge there. 
 
246 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. Hearts have they of highest daring, 
 
 Fearless, dauntless, true as steel ; 
 Yet they melt at human sorrow, 
 
 And the wo^s of others feel. 
 The poor, the needy, and the outcast — 
 
 Brothers still, tliough fallen low — 
 Find in them a guardian angel ; 
 
 Tyranny, a mortal foe. 
 
 6. Knowledge, Freedom, are th^ir war-cries ; 
 
 Hope for man, their watchword still ; 
 And their arm is ever active. 
 
 Smiting down each crying ill. 
 And that banner waves above them — 
 
 Rich bequest from sire to son — 
 Beacon that will ever brighten. 
 
 Till the final conquest's won. 
 
 LESSON" LXIX 
 
 CONSCIENCE. 
 
 JAMES LINEN. 
 
 "Whatever creed be taught, or land be trod, 
 Man's conscience is the oracle of God." — Byron. 
 
 lo npELL me, O Conscience! what thou art, 
 X That fires the brain and wrings the heart ; 
 That haunts the guilty mind with fears, 
 And fills the eyes with bitter tears ; 
 That keeps the memory on the rack 
 By bringiiig recollections back ; 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 247 
 
 That plays with feelings at thy will, 
 And tortures with consummate skill ; 
 Whose task it is, by smile or frown, 
 To lift man up, or drag him down ; 
 Whose sting is keener far than steel 
 Which felons in dark dungeons feel. 
 The prince may golden favors shower, 
 Yet he is subject to thy power. 
 
 2. The hero Honor's path may tread, 
 
 And his great name world-wide be spread ; 
 But glory brings not peace of mind, 
 That jewel rare, so hard to find. 
 From tliy dominion none can flee, 
 For mortals all must bow to thee ! 
 Tell me, O Conscience ! what thou art. 
 Weird Watchman of the human heart ! 
 
 3. Art thou the child of wretched Care, 
 That murders Sleep and mocks Despair — 
 That fills with pangs the human breast. 
 And robs the guilty head of rest — 
 
 That mutely weeps o'er crime untold. 
 Where Vice buys Virtue with her gold — 
 Whose records by some mystic hand 
 Are written in a fadeless land ? 
 Tell me, O Conscience ! what thou art. 
 Weird Watchman of the human heart. 
 
 4. The soul that claims celestial birth, 
 Finds naught but tainted joys on earth ; 
 Imprisoned in a cell of clay. 
 
 That yields to laws of swift decay, — 
 
248 SANDERS' UNION l&EEIES. 
 
 The spirit tenant of the heart 
 Is ever yearning ta depart ; 
 Like some caged warbler to be free, 
 That it may soar^ O God ! to thee, 
 
 5. O Conscience ? mute, mysterious gnest ; 
 Man fain would pluck thee from his breast, 
 As if thou wert his deadly foe, 
 
 The only cause of human woe ; 
 Could he but snatch thy golden crown, 
 And madly pull thy temple down. 
 Dark Vice would rear her bloody shrines 
 Where perish hoj)es and Virtue pines ; 
 Strike but the brave heart-monarch dumb, 
 . And earth a desert would become, 
 
 6. When man can feel a conscience clear. 
 What wrontTs and dancjers need he fear ? 
 Calmly at his departing breath. 
 
 It takes away the stings of death ; 
 It nobly braves the coward world, 
 Till Reason from her throne be hurled ; 
 With all the feelings of the heart 
 It gently plays a leading part. 
 In concert acting with the soul 
 When passions wild brook no control ; 
 Close by life's purple fountain found. 
 It guards the spot as holy ground. 
 Tell me, O Conscience ! v/hat thou art. 
 Weird Watchman of the human heart ! 
 
 Question. — Why Jo Care, Sleep, Despair, Vice, Virtue, Conscience, nnd 
 Watchman, 3d stanza, begin with capitals? Answer. — Because they are 
 personified. 
 
 •A 
 
 J 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 249 
 
 LESSON LXX. 
 
 ^By' RON, tlEORGE GoRDON, (Lord Byron,) was born in London, Jan, 22, 
 1788 ; and died April 19, 1824. In his nineteenth year, he commenced 
 his career as an author by publishing the " Hours of Idleness." It 
 was criticised with great severity by "The Ediiiburgh Review;" to 
 which attack he replied with still greater severity in a caustic satire 
 entitled "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers." His life was marked 
 by great misfortunes, occasioned chiefly by his own wild and wanton 
 conduct; but it was distinguished by a series of poetical productions, 
 which have been more admired and more condemned than those, per- 
 haps, of any other writer, whether living or dead. 
 
 - New' tox, Sir Isaac. See note, page 94. 
 
 ^ Boyle, Robert, was born at Lismore, Ireland, in 1626; and died in 
 London, 1691. He was an able and sedulous investigator of Nature 
 by experiment, and contributed largely to the various branches of 
 optics, pneumatics, natural history, chemistry, and medicine ; pneu- 
 matics probably gaining most by his researches. His mind was essen- 
 tially reverential, and he wrote largely on religious topics. 
 
 * Locke, John, author of the celebrated "Essay on the Human Under- 
 
 standing," was born 1652; and died 1704. Firmly attached to the 
 cause of toleration, civil and religious, he scrupled not to suffer for 
 either. Human liberty was the kasis of his philosophy, and he practi- 
 cally stood by it. Few writers had a finer sense of the respect due to 
 personal conscience. 
 
 • Wil' ber force, William, a distinguished English statesman and Chris- 
 
 tian philanthropist, was born 1759; and died 1833. While a member 
 of Parliament, he introduced a bill for the abolition of the slave-trade, 
 and advocated it in a powerful and effective speech, which gained hini 
 a reputation as one of the most eloquent orators of the age. 
 
 MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CULTURE. 
 
 SAT. EVE. POST. 
 
 IT has pleased the beneficent Father of the universe to 
 form man a rational and intelligent heing^ to endow him 
 with faculties of mind susceptible of the highest improve- 
 ment, and to impart to him a soul which may soar far on 
 beyond the joys of earthly happiness, and participate in the 
 bliss of a heavenly immortality. The feelings of his heart, 
 
250 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 purified by the clear principles of rhorality, and ennobled 
 by the influences of divine goodness, elevate his nature, 
 and justly entitle him to be ranked among the proudest 
 works of the Creator. 
 
 2. But Omniscience has so constituted him that his hap- 
 piness is closely interwoven with the practice of the moral 
 virtues, and a strict and undeviatino; regard for the dictates 
 of religion. When these are disregarded, the ties that bind 
 his soul to Heaven, are broken; the glorious destinies of his 
 existence are lost in the transient pleasures of earth ; and 
 the impress of divinity, stamped upon his nature, remains 
 but a polluted emblem of his pristine glory, and, in his 
 sober moments of reflection, adds keener pangs to his 
 miseries, by reminding him of the high objects for which 
 he was created. 
 
 3. Wherever there is a want of moral principle^ the 
 loftiest efforts of the human intellect degenerate into cold- 
 ness. They may dazzle the imagination with their brilliancy, 
 and perhaps astonish the reason itself with their strength and 
 originality ; but the heart is unmoved, and the nobler 
 and more exalted feelino;s of our nature remain unaffected. 
 We may witness the most towering flights of genius; we 
 may listen with delight to the almost overpowering strains 
 of eloquence ; we may be enchanted with the soft and 
 flowing numbers of heo,ven-born music ; and, at the same 
 time, our emotions may be mingled with feelings of sadness 
 and regret, that the possessors of these golden talents are_ 
 uninfluenced by the mild precepts of virtue, and throw a 
 shade over their shining qualities by the vicious and cor- 
 rupt conduct of their lives. We may view with pleasure 
 too, at a distance, the fiery heavings of a volcano ; but we 
 shudder to reflect that every swelling is pregnant with the 
 seeds of desolation, and buries whole cities in liquid fire. 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 251 
 
 4. Who lias not been enraptured with the sweet and 
 fascinating mekxly of Byron ? ^ Who has not felt the deep 
 breathings of liis mighty genius, and acknowledged the 
 burning fervor which inspired his Muse ? And yet who, 
 that bends the knee of reverence at the shrine of Religion, 
 and endeavors to advance the great principles of morality, 
 does not intertwine a wreath of cypress with the laurels 
 that encircle his brow, and, while he admires the magic 
 power of his poesy, lament that his harp was untuned to 
 nobler themes, and his sweetest strains were destitute of 
 heavenly fire ? 
 
 5. The immortal Gibbon has removed the vail which 
 had rested like a mist upon the history of imperial Rome, 
 and has scattered the darkness and doubt which for suc- 
 ceeding centuries had enveloped the whole continent of 
 Europe. His name will be remembered as long as nations 
 shall exist ; but, while the philanthropist and the Christian 
 shall bestow the just tribute of applause upon the splendor 
 of his talents and the magnificence of his works, they will 
 shed tears of sorrow over his infidelity, and regret that 
 almost every page of his history is stained with opposition 
 to the gospel of Christ. 
 
 6. But there is a brighter page in the history of man. 
 From the catalogue of the distinguished. men of every age, 
 we may select some whose names are an ornament to hu- 
 man nature, and whose lives have been devoted to the 
 cultivation of the moral graces, and the advancement of 
 social and religious happiness. Newton,'^ Boyle,^ and Locke* 
 have enlarged the circle of the human mind, and adorned 
 the principles of philosophy with the precepts of piety. 
 Their fame is equally identified with the progress of 
 knowledge and the diffusion of virtue. 
 
 7. Others have emblazoned their names upon the es- 
 
252 • SANDERS' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 cutcheon of immortality by some single act, which has con- 
 tributed to alleviate the wretchedness of thousands, or 
 dissemhiated the seeds of morahty to the remotest corners 
 of the earth. Millions of the degraded sons of Africa will 
 swell the anthem of joy, while associations of the sweets 
 of liberty shall remind them of the name of Wilberforce.'^ 
 The history of others who have shed a bright and undying 
 luster upon our country, will call forth the grateful recol- 
 lections of unborn generations, so long as truth shall 
 triumph over error, and the influence of Christianity be felt 
 in removing vice and superstition from the hearts of men. 
 
 8. The cultivation of moral feeliiig is as closely inter- 
 woven with the stability of government, as it is allied to the 
 promotion of the great objects of religion. Kemove this 
 pillar, and the beautiful fabric of our freedom falls. Dif- 
 fuse the poison of immorahty among the minds of the 
 people, and factious ambition would sway the councils of 
 the nation, or perhaps the bloody flag of despotism would 
 wave over the ruins of the fair temple of our liberties. 
 
 9. Rome, so long as she resisted the encroachments of 
 vice, and maintained a sense of piety and devotion among 
 her citizens, preserved her political frame firm and un- 
 broken. But the '' fell destroyer " came. Vice opened 
 its flood-gates of destruction, and a thousand streams of 
 pollution swept away every remnant of moral principle. 
 The cords of her o-overnment became relaxed, her laws 
 were disregarded, and licentiousness and corruption sapped 
 the very foundations of the empire. Rome fell ; and from 
 her fall succeeding nations may learn that moral principles 
 are the supporting pillars of their political institutions. 
 
 10. The harmonious order which pervades the natural 
 creation, beautifully illustrates the importance of regularity 
 in the moral world. The shooting of the plant, the unin- 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 253 
 
 terrupted succession of the seasons, the regular movement 
 of the earth, the stars of tlie firmament wheeUng tlieir 
 courses in perfect symmetry through the boundless fields 
 of space, — all present a system of the utmost beauty and 
 order, and excite in our minds the highest sentiments of 
 admiration. But when storms and tempests ravage the 
 surface of the earth, or the convulsions of Nature shake 
 its foundations to the center, or when the terrific comet 
 traverses its eccentric course, and threatens the destruction 
 of worlds, the minds of men are excited with horror, and 
 filled with consternation and awe. In the same manner, 
 we view with feelings of dread the wild whirlwind of the 
 passions, unrestrained by the mild influences of virtue, and 
 uncontrolled by the effects of a religious education. 
 
 11. The God of Nature has raised us high in the scale 
 of existence ; and shall we degrade the dignity of our 
 nature by pursuing the delusive phantoms of sensual pleas- 
 ures, and exchanging the bliss that flows from the culti- 
 vation of moral and religious feeling for the debasing 
 objects of earthly gratification ' ? He has implanted in our 
 souls a desire of happiness ; and shall we exchange the 
 pure and unadulterated joys of virtue and piety for the 
 short-lived, unsatisfying pleasures of vice and immorality'? 
 No : reason and the experience of ages teach us, in loud 
 and warning accents, that misery is the inevitable conse- 
 quence of vice, while unalloyed felicity is the sure reward 
 of virtue. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What inflection at the questions, 4th paragraph? Seo 
 liiile II., page 29. 2. Wliy the rising inflection at the questions, llth para- 
 graph ? See Rule I., page 28. 3. What is the meaning of the prefix inters 
 in the words intertioinc, Interiroron, and unintcniipfed, 4th, 8th, and 10th para- 
 graphs ? See Sanders' Union Speller, Exercise 434, page 136. 4. What is 
 the use of the hyphen in the wovfX Jiood-gates, 9th paragraph? See Union 
 Speller, page 170. 
 
254 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LXXI. 
 
 * Dead Sba Apples, or Apples of Sodom, — a fruit of fair appearance, 
 but dissolving into smoke and ashes when phicked. It resembles an 
 orange in size and color; but the taste is bitter. — Deut. xxxii. 32. 
 
 DESIRE AND MEANS OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 HOUACK MANN. 
 
 IT is a law of our nature to desire happiness. This law 
 is not local, but universal ; not temporary, but eternal. 
 It is not a law to be proved by exceptions ; for it knows no 
 exception. The savage and the martyr welcome fierce 
 pains, not because they love pain, but because they love 
 some expected remuneration of happiness so well, that 
 they are willing to purchase it at the price of pain, — at the 
 price of imprisonment, torture, and death. 
 
 2. The young desire happiness, more keenly than any 
 others. This desire is innate, spontaneous, exuberant; and 
 nothing but repeated and repeated overflows of the lava of 
 disappointment can burn or bury it in their breasts. On 
 this law of our nature, then, we may stand as on an im- 
 movable foundation of truth. Whatever fortune may 
 befall our argument, our premises are secure. 
 
 3. The conscious desire of happiness is active in all men. 
 Its objects are easily conceivable by all men. But, alas ! 
 toward what different points of the moral compass do men 
 look for these objects, and expect to find them ! Some 
 look for happiness above, and some below ; some in the 
 grandeur of the soul, and some in the grossness of the 
 sense. Wherever it is looked for, the imagination adorns 
 it with all its glowing colors. 
 
 4. Multitudes of those who seek for happiness, will not 
 obtain the object of their search, because they seek amiss. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 255 
 
 Deceived by false ideas of its nature, other multitudes, who 
 obtain the object of their search, will find it to be sorrow, 
 and not joy; Dead Sea apples,^ and not celestial fruits. 
 Whether a young man shall reap pleasure or pain from 
 winning the objects of his choice, depends not only upon 
 his wisdom or folly in selecting those objects, but upon the 
 right or wrong methods by which he pursues them. Noth- 
 ing is more certain than that the range and possibility of 
 happiness which God has provided, and placed within reach 
 of us all, is still vaster than the desire of it in any and in 
 all of His creatures. 
 
 5. We are finite, and can receive only in finite quan- 
 tities ; He is infinite, and gives in infinite quantities. Look 
 outwardly, and behold the variety and redundancy of means 
 which the Creator has prepared to meet and to satisfy all 
 the rational wants of His children. So ample and multi- 
 tudinous are the gifts of God, that He needed an immen- 
 sity of space for their storehouse ; and so various are they, 
 and ascending one above another in their adaptation to our 
 capacities of enjoyment, that we need an eternity to set 
 out the banquet. 
 
 6. See how the means of sustenance and comfort are 
 distributed and diversified througliout the earth ! There 
 is not a mood of body, from the wantonness of health to 
 the languor of the death-bed, for which the alchemy of 
 Nature does not proffer some luxury to stimulate our pleas- 
 ures, or her pharmacy some catholicon to assuage our pains. 
 What texture for clothing, from the gossamer thread which 
 the silkworm weaves, to the silk-like furs which the winds 
 of Zembla can not penetrate ! As materials from which 
 to construct our dwellings, what Quincys and New Hamp- 
 shires of granite, what Alleghanies of oak, and what for- 
 ests of pine belting the continent ! What coal-fields to 
 supply the lost warmth of the receding sun ! 
 
256 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 7. Notwithstanding tlie beautiful adaptation of the physi- 
 cal world to our needs, yet, when we leave the regions of 
 sense and of sensuous things, and ascend to the sphere of 
 the intellect, we find that all which had ever delighted us 
 before, becomes poor and somber in the presence of the 
 brighter glories that burst upon our view. Here fresh and 
 illimitable fields open upon us; and, corresponding with the 
 new objects presented, a group of new faculties to explore 
 and enjoy them, is awakened within us. 
 
 8. The outward eye sees outward things, and the outside 
 of things only ; but the inward eye is emanci})ated from 
 the bonds that bind its brother. The great panorama of 
 the universe limits and bounds the outward organs that 
 behold it ; gives them all they can ask ; fills them with all 
 they can receive. Splendid and majestic as are the heav- 
 ens and the earth to the natural eye, yet they are solid, 
 opaque, impervious. But to the subtle and pervading 
 intellect, this solid framework of the universe becomes 
 transparent ; its densest and darkest textures, crystalline. 
 To the intellect, each interior fiber and atom of things is 
 luminous. 
 
 9. To the intellect of man all recesses are opened, all 
 secrets revealed. Sunlight glows where darkness gloomed. 
 To this power, no hight is inaccessible, no depth unfath- 
 omable, no distance imtraversable. It has the freedom of 
 the universe. It can not be swallowed up in the waters 
 of the sea ; it can not be crushed by the weight of the 
 earth ; and, in the midst of the fiery furnace, One, whose 
 form is like the Son of God, Avalks by its side. 
 
 10- So, too, all created things are governed by laws, 
 each by its ow^n. These laws the intellect of man can 
 discover and understand, and thus make his dominion co- 
 extensive with his knowledge. So far as we understand 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 257 
 
 these laws, we can bring all substajices that are governed 
 by them under their action, and thus produce the results 
 we desire, just as the cohier subjects his gold-dust to the 
 process of minting, and brings out eagles. 
 
 11. So far as we understand the Creator's laws. He in- 
 vests us with His power. When knowledge enables me to 
 speak with the flaming tongue of lightning across the con- 
 tinent, is it not the same as though I had power to call 
 down the swiftest an^el from Heaven, and send him abroad 
 as the messenger of my thoughts' ? When a knowledge of 
 astronomy and navigation enables me to leave a port on 
 this side of the globe, and thread my labyrinthine way 
 among contrary winds, and through the currents and 
 counter-currents of the ocean, and to strike any pml I 
 please on the opposite side of the globe, is it not the same 
 as though God for this purpose had endued me with His 
 all-seeing vision, and enabled me to look through clouds 
 and darkness around the convex earth' ? 
 
 12. Nor does the intellect stop with the knowledge of 
 physical laws. All the nafural attributes of the Author 
 of those laws are its highest and noblest study. Its contem- 
 plations and its discoveries rise from the spirit that dwelleth 
 in a beast to the spirit that dwelleth in a man, and from 
 this to the Spirit that dwelleth in the heavens. Every 
 acquisition of knowledge also, which the intellect can 
 make, assimilates the creature to the all-knowing Cre- 
 ator. It traces another line on the countenance of the 
 yet ignorant child, by which he more nearly resembles 
 the omniscient Father. The human soul is desire ; the 
 works and wisdom of God are a fountain of supply. If 
 the soul of man is a void at birth, it is a void so capacious, 
 that the universe may be transfused into it. 
 
 17 
 
258 SAKDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LXXII. 
 
 ' Gu' TEN BERG, JoHN, was born in 1400, near Mentz, in Germany; and 
 died in 1468. He is supposed to have made his first experiment in the 
 art of printing with movable types between 1434 and 1439 ; but it was 
 in 1443 that he turned his great invention to account, and brought 
 upon himself great persecution. There are some points not cleared up 
 in the history of this invention ; but it is now generally agreed that 
 the honor belongs to John Gutenberg. A beautiful statue has been 
 erected to his memory. 
 
 THE INVENTION OF PRINTING. 
 
 OSBORNE. 
 
 John Gutenbeug.— Rupert, a Usurer, 
 
 Rupert. Friend John, what's wanted now ? Ah ! I can 
 guess. 'Tis the old story, — money ! 
 
 John. Master Rupert, 
 
 I bring your- good security. 
 
 Rup. What's this ? 
 
 A family ring, — solid, and set with diamonds! 
 
 John. Let me have fifty florins * on the pledge. 
 
 Rup. That's twenty more than I can well afford ; 
 But you shall have the money. 
 
 John. Recollect, 
 
 I shall redeem the ring ! 
 
 Rap. When, John ? 
 
 Jolm. As soon 
 
 As I have perfected my great invention. 
 
 Rap. Ah ! John, that great invention, much I fear, 
 Will come to naught. Take to some honest trade ; 
 Leave dreaming o'er thy scheme of movable types 
 For multiplying copies of a book. 
 
 * Flor'in, a silver coin varying in value from twenty-three to fifty-four 
 cents. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 259 
 
 Shouldst thou succeed, the copyists, who now 
 Derive their living from their manuscripts, 
 Will persecute thee, — make it out (who knows?) 
 That thou hast dealt in magic. 
 
 John. Let them murmur I 
 
 Think, Master Rupert, of the good locked up 
 In this invention. Look upon this book : 
 It is the book of books, the Bible. Know'st thou 
 How long it takes a writer to complete 
 A copy such as this ? 
 
 Rap. A year, perhaps. 
 
 John. As long as that ! Now, by this plan of mine, 
 After the types are set, ten thousand copies 
 Might be struck off, and by a single man. 
 Within less time than now is given to make 
 A single copy. 
 
 Riip, John, thy wits are wandering. 
 
 Tlu)u art but a dreamer. 
 
 JoJm. I can make it plain 
 
 To any mechanician, what I say 
 Is but the sober truth. Ay, Master Rupert, 
 The day will come when this same book, which now 
 Few men are rich enough to own, will be 
 So multiplied and cheap, that every peasant 
 Can own it, if he chooses. 
 
 Rup. John, go home ; 
 
 Tell thy good wife to put thee straight to bed, 
 And send for a physician. I shall hear 
 Of a brain-fever next. 
 
 John. The day will come. 
 
 I may not live to see it ; after years 
 Of penury and struggle, I may fall 
 Into the gi'ave unnoticed : but the spark 
 
260 SANDEES' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 Kindled by me shall grow to be a Jight 
 
 Unto the nations ; and religion, freedom, 
 
 Science, and education, all shall date 
 
 An gpoch from the day when Jiere^ in Mentz, 
 
 i, poor John Gutenberg, the small mechanic, 
 
 Produced my movable types, but could not win. 
 
 From rich or learned, words of cheer or help. 
 
 Rap. 'Tis for posterity thou art laboring, then ! 
 Now listen to a word of common sense : 
 Posterity will nothing do for thee. 
 Posterity will put upon thy back 
 No coat to shield thee from the winter's cold. 
 Posterity will give no single meal, 
 Though thou wert starving. Why shouldst thou then, 
 
 John, 
 Labor for such an ingrate as this same 
 Vain, unrequiting herd, — posterity f 
 
 John, The noble giver finds his solace in 
 The act of giving, — in the consciousness 
 He has conferred upon his fellow-men 
 A certain blessing. Should requital come, 
 'Twill be, like all good things, acceptable : 
 But not for that, not even for gratitude. 
 Did he confer his boon ; and so he quails not, 
 Should disappointment and ingratitude 
 Pursue him to the grave. 
 
 Rap. John, thou art a riddle. 
 Where, then, is thy reward for all thy pains ? 
 
 John. My friend, the little good that we can do, 
 In our sliort sojourn here, will not alone 
 Shed comfort on this transitory life. 
 But be (such is my faith) a joy hereafter. 
 
XTNION FIFTH READER. ' 261 
 
 LESSON LXXIII. 
 THE THREE VOICES. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. "TTTHAT salth the Past to tliee ? Weep ! 
 
 T V Truth is departed ; , 
 
 Beauty hath died like the dream of a sleep ; 
 
 Love is faint-hearted ; 
 Trifles of sense, the profoundly unreal, 
 Scare from our spirits God's holy ideal : 
 So, as a funeral bell, slowly and deep, 
 So tolls the Past to thee ! Weep ! 
 
 2. How speaks the Present hour ? Act ! 
 
 Walk upward glancing ; 
 So shall thy footsteps in glory be traced, 
 
 Slow% but advancing. 
 Scorn not the smallness of daily endeavor, 
 Let the g-reat meaninoj ennoble it ever ; 
 
 Droop not o'er efforts expended in vain ; 
 
 Work^ as believing that labor is gain. 
 
 3. What doth the Future say ? Hope ! 
 
 Turn the face sunward ; 
 Look where the light fringes the far-rising slope ; 
 
 Day cometh onward. 
 Watch ! though so long be the daylight delaying, 
 Let the first sunbeam arise on thee praying ; 
 
 Fear not, for greater is God by thy side 
 
 Than armies of Error against thee allied. 
 
262 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LXXIV. 
 ACTION OF CLIMATE UPON MAN. 
 
 PROF. ARNOLD GUYOT. 
 
 SINCE man is made to acquire the full possession and 
 mastery of his faculties by toil, and by the exercise of 
 nil his energies, no climate could so well minister to his 
 progress in this work as the climate of the temperate re- 
 gions. Excessive heat enfeebles man ; it invites to repose 
 and inaction. In the tropical regions, the power of life 
 in nature is carried to its highest degree : thus,' with the 
 tropical man, the life of the body overmasters that of the 
 soul ; the physical instincts of our nature eclipse those of 
 the higher faculties ; passion predominates over intellect 
 and reason, the passive faculties over the active faculties. 
 
 2. Nature, too rich, too prodigal of her gifts, does not 
 compel man to wrest from her his daily bread by his daily 
 toil. A regular climate, and the absence of a dormant 
 season, render forethought of little use to him. Nothing 
 invites him to that struggle of intelligence against Nature, 
 which raises the powers of man to their highest pitch. 
 Thus he never dreams of resisting physical Nature ; he is 
 conquered by her ; he submits to the yoke, and becomes 
 again the animal man, in proportion as he abandons him- 
 self to external influences, forgetful of his high moral 
 destination. 
 
 3. In the temperate climates^ all is activity and move- 
 ment. Tlie alternations of heat and cofd, the changes of 
 the seasons, a fresher and more bracing air, incite man tc 
 a constant struggle, to forethought, and to the vigorous 
 employment of all his faculties. A more economical Na- 
 ture yields nothing, except to the sweat of his brow : every 
 gift on her part is a recompense for effort on his. 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. , 263 
 
 4. Nature here, even while challenging man to the con- 
 flict, gives him the hope of victory ; and, if she does not 
 show herself prodigal, she grants to his active and intelli- 
 gent labor more than his necessities require : while she 
 calls out his energy, she thus gives him ease and leisure, 
 which permit him to cultivate all the lofty faculties of his 
 higher nature. Here physical Nature is not a tyrant, but 
 a useful helper ; the active faculties, the understanding and 
 the reason, rule over the instincts and the passive faculties ; 
 the soul, over the body ; man, over Nature. 
 
 5. In the frozen regions^ man also contends with Nature, 
 but it is with a niggardly and severe Nature ; it is a des- 
 perate struggle, — a struggle for life. With difficulty, by 
 force of toil, he succeeds in providing for himself a misera- 
 ble support, which saves him from dying of hunger and 
 hardship, during the long and tedious winters of that 
 climate. High culture, therefore, is not possible under 
 such unfavorable conditions. 
 
 6. The man of the tropical regions is the son of a wealthy 
 house. In the midst of the abundance which surrounds 
 him, labor too often seems to him useless ; to abandon 
 himself to his inclinations is more easy and agreeable. A 
 slave of his passions, an unfaithful servant, he leaves un- 
 cultivated and unused the faculties with which God has 
 endowed him. The man of the polar regions is the beg- 
 gar overwhelmed with suffering, who, too happy if he can 
 but gain his daily bread, has no leisure to think of any 
 thinor more exalted. 
 
 7. The man of the temperate regions^ finally, is the man 
 born in ease, in the golden mean, which is the most favored 
 of all conditions. Invited to labor by every thing aroui^d 
 him, he soon finds, in the exercise of all his faculties, at 
 once progress and well-being. Thus, if the tropical re- 
 
264 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 gions have the wealth of nature, the temperate regions are 
 the most perfectly organized for the development of man. 
 They are opposed to each other, as the body and the soul, 
 as the inferior races and the superior races, as savage man 
 and civilized man, as nature and history. Of this con- 
 trast, so marked as it is, the history of human societies 
 will give us the solution, or, at least, will enable us to 
 obtain a glimpse of the truth. 
 
 LESSON LXXY, 
 THE WONDERS OF CIVILIZATION. 
 
 ARNOTT. 
 
 THE condition of the present inhabitants of this country 
 is very different from that of their forefathers. These, 
 generally divided into small states or societies, had few 
 relations of amity with surrounding tribes, and their 
 thoughts and interests were confined very much within 
 their own little territories and rude habits. Now, how- 
 ever, every one sees himself a member of one vast civil- 
 ized society which covers the face of the earth, and no 
 part of the earth is indifferent to him. 
 
 2. A man of small fortune may cast his regards around 
 him, and say, with truth and exultation, — "I am lodged 
 in a house that affords me conveniences and comforts, 
 which even a king could not command some centuries 
 ago. There are ships crossing the seas in every direction, 
 to bring what is useful to me from all parts of the earth. 
 In China, men are gathering the tea-leaf; in America, 
 they are planting cotton ; in the West-India Islands, they 
 a^e preparing sugar and coffee ; in Italy, they are feed- 
 ing silk-worms ; in Saxony, they are shearing the sheep 
 to make clothing; at home, powerful steam-engines are 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 266 
 
 spinning and weaving, and making cutlery, and pumping 
 the mines, that materials useftil to me may be procured. 
 
 3. " My patrimony is small : yet I have carriages run- 
 ning day and night on all the roads, to carry my corre- 
 spondence ; I have roads, and canals, and bridges, to bear 
 the coal for my winter fire ; nay, I have protecting fleets 
 and armies around my bappy country, to secure my enjoy- 
 ment and repose. Then I have editors and printers, who 
 daily send me an account of what is going on throughout 
 the world, among all these people who serve me ; and, in 
 a corner of my house, I have hooks^ the miracle of all my 
 possessions ; for they transport me instantly, not only to all 
 places, but to all times. 
 
 4. "By my books I -can conjure up before me, to vivid 
 existence, all the great and good men of antiquity ; and, 
 for my individual satisfaction, I can make them act over 
 again the most renowned of their exploits : the orators de- 
 claim for me ; the historians recite ; the poets sing ; — in a 
 word, from the equator to the pole, and from the beginning 
 of time until now, by my books I can be where I please." 
 This picture is not overcharged, and might be much ex- 
 tended, — such being the miracle of God's goodness in 
 providence, that each individual of the civilized millions 
 that cover the earth, may have nearly the same enjoy- 
 ments as if he were the single lord of all. 
 
 LESSON LXXVI. 
 
 THE LOVE OF TRUTH. 
 
 HE future^ with its vastness, its infinitude, — so distant, 
 so beyond our power, — grows out of the use you make 
 of the present^ so small, so near, so completely at your 
 
 12 
 
 T 
 
266 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 disposal. Reality borrows from futurity, from eternity. 
 Germs are the only realities ; possibilities are the only cer- 
 tainties. What is a seed ? It is the future harvest. Wliat 
 is the present hour ? It is the future age, — a destiny of 
 happiness or misery. What is this field before you ? It is 
 all that you can make of it by industry, by effort, by vigi- 
 lance, by enterprise. 
 
 2. While I note this truth, I stand before a landscape, 
 the grand prominent feature of which, toward the south- 
 east, is a lofty expanse of land called Folly Hill. Fifty 
 years ago, if any man had planted it with oak trees, or 
 walnut, or pine, or all together, at a cost of a few dollars, 
 it would to-day have been worth as many thousands ; 
 whereas it is all covered with worthless trees, the growth 
 of Nature's chance. 
 
 3. A man built a house on the summit, which was blown 
 down in a great tempest ; and hence the place was named 
 Folly Hill. That was an external structure^ not character ; 
 but those broad acres might have been covered with broad, 
 rich forests, had the man spent a twentieth part of the 
 money he put into that house, in planting for posterity. 
 And so with moral planting^ so with principles. They 
 make no show when you are setting them out, perhaps, 
 in the seed. Men see not, know not, when it is done, 
 nor when, nor how, the seeds are germinating ; but they 
 create anew the whole being, — they transfigure it, they 
 enrich it to all future time. 
 
 4. When the heart comes in magnetic power and sym- 
 pathetic glow to the great ideas of immortality and personal 
 responsibility^ then great truths enter in and combine pow- 
 erfully with the emotional and intellectual being. The 
 bright ideal that the soul ardently desires and seeks after, 
 embraces the offer, and they become united in the indissolu' 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 267 
 
 ble bonds of sympathy and love. But let that season of 
 sympathy and impressibleness pass away, and the creative 
 vitality is gone with it. 
 
 5. When the mind, the memory, the heart, are vital with 
 moral magnetism, they will select and hold fast anvd re- 
 produce the most precious thoughts, just as a steel magnet 
 will catch and hold iron chips and filings, if you have pre- 
 pared it for action with magnetic forces ; but otherwise it 
 will attract nothing. Just so with the mind and heart, — 
 magnetized, ardent, when held toward great vital truths, 
 >vliicli, radiating through the mind, fill it with light, like 
 magnets covered with sparkling diamonds and gold-dust. 
 
 LESSON LXXYIL 
 ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. 
 
 OEORGK WILLIAM CUKTI3. 
 
 DAY by day, wherever our homes may be in this great 
 land, we have watched the passing pageant of the 
 year. Day by day, from the first quick flush of April, 
 through the deeper green and richer bloom of May and 
 June, we have seen the advancing season develop and in- 
 crease, until, at last, among roses and golden grain, the 
 year stood perfect, in midsummer splendor. 
 
 2. As you have contemplated the brief glory of our 
 summer, where the clover almost blooms out of snow-drifts, 
 and the red apples drop almost with the white blossoms, 
 you have, perhaps, remembered that the flower upon the 
 tree was only the ornament of a moment, — a brilliant part 
 of the process by which the fruit was formed, — and that 
 
268 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 the perfect fruit itself was but the seed-vessel, by which 
 the race of the tree is continued from year to year. 
 
 3. Then have you followed the exquisite analogy, that 
 youth is the aromatic flower upon the tree ; the grave life 
 of maturer years, its sober, solid fruit ; and the principles 
 and character deposited by that life, the seeds by which the 
 glory of this race also is per]3etuated' ? 
 
 4. I know the flower in your hand fades while you look 
 at it. The dream that alhires you, glimmers and is gone. 
 But flower and dream, like youth itself, are buds and 
 prophecies. For where, without the perfumed blossoming 
 of the spring orchards all over the hills and among all the 
 valleys of New England and New York, would the happy 
 harvests of New York and New England be ? And where, 
 without the dreams of the young men lighting the future 
 with human possibility, would be the deeds of the old men, 
 dignifying the past with human achievement ? How deeply 
 does it become us to believe this, who are not only young 
 ourselves, but living with the youth of the youngest nation 
 in history ! , ' 
 
 5. I congratulate you that you are young ; I congratu- 
 late you that you are Americans. Like you, that country 
 is in its flower, not yet in its fruit ; and that flower is sub- 
 ject to a thousand chances before the fruit is set. Worms 
 may destroy it ; frosts may wither it ; fires may blight it ; 
 gusts may whirl it away. But how gorgeously it still 
 hangs blossoming in the garden of time, while its pene- 
 trating perfume floats all round the world, and intoxicates 
 all other nations with the hope of liberty ! 
 
 6. Knowing that the life of every nation, as of each 
 individual, is a battle, let us remember, also, that the 
 battle is to those who fight with faith and undespairing de- 
 votion. Knowing that nothing is worth fighting for at 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 269 
 
 all, unless God reigns, let us, at least, believe as much 
 in the goodness of God as we do in tlie dexterity of the 
 devil.* And, viewing this prodigious spectacle of our 
 country — tliis hope of humanity, this Young America — 
 our America — taking the sun full in its front, and making 
 for the future, as boldly and blithely as the young David 
 for Goliath, let us believe with all our hearts ; and from 
 that faith shall spring^the fact, that David, and not Goliath, 
 is to win the day, and that, out of the high-hearted dreams 
 of wise and good men about our country. Time, however 
 invisibly and inscrutably, is, at this moment, slowly hewing 
 the most colossal and resplendent result in history. 
 
 LESSOISr LXXVIII. 
 THE GRAVE OF THE YEAR. 
 
 G. A. GAMAGE. 
 
 In reading the following stanzas, be careful to avoid a sing-song tone. 
 The voice should be pitched on the middle kej, and the piece read in a 
 slow, pathetic manner. 
 
 I. 
 
 BE composed, every toil and each turbulent motion 
 That encircles the heart in life's treacherous snares ; 
 And the hour tliat invites to the calm of devotion. 
 Undisturbed by regrets, unencumbered by cares. 
 How cheerless the late blooming face of creation ! 
 Weary Time seems to pause in his rapid career. 
 And, fatigued with the work of his own desolation. 
 Looks behind, with a smile, on the grave of the Year ! 
 
 * See 1 Peter, 5th chap., 8th verse. 
 
270 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 II. 
 
 Hark ! the wind whistles rudely ; the shadows are closhig, 
 
 Which inwrap his broad path in the mantle of night ; 
 While Pleasure's gay sons are in quiet reposing, 
 
 Undisturbed by the wrecks that have numbered his 
 flight. 
 In yon temple, where Fashion's bright tapers are lighted. 
 
 Her votaries, in crowds, decked with garlands, appear. 
 And — as yet their warm hopes by no specter affrighted — - 
 
 Assemble to dance round the grave of the Year ! 
 
 III. 
 
 ! I hate the false cup that the idlers have tasted, 
 When I think on the ills of life's comfortless day ; 
 
 How the flowers of my childhood their odor have wasted, 
 And the friends of my youth have been stolen away : 
 
 1 think not how fruitless the warmest endeavor 
 
 To recall the kind moments, neglected when near, 
 When the hours that Oblivion has canceled forever 
 Are interred by her hand in the grave of the Year ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Since the last solemn reign of this day of reflection. 
 
 What throngs have relinquished life's perishing breath ! 
 How many have shed the sad tear of dejection. 
 
 And closed the dim eye in the darkness of death ! 
 How many have sudden their pilgrimage ended, 
 
 Beneath the lone pall that envelops the bier ! 
 Or to Death's lonely valley have gently descended. 
 
 And made their cold beds with the grave of the Year ! 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 271 
 
 V. 
 
 'Tis the Year that, so late its new beauty disclosing, 
 
 Rose briglit on the happy, the careless, and gay, 
 Who now on their pillows of dust are reposing, 
 
 While the sod presses damp on their bosoms of clay I 
 Then think not of bliss, when its smile is expiring, — 
 
 Disappointment still drowns it in misery's tear ; 
 Reflect, and be wise, — for the day is retiring, 
 
 And TO-MORROW will dawn on the grave of the Year ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet awhile, and no seasons around us siiall flourish, 
 
 But Silence for each her dark mansion prepare, 
 Where Beauty no longer her roses shall nourish, 
 
 Or the lily overspread the wan cheek of Despair ! 
 But the eye shall with luster unfading be brightened, 
 
 When it wakens to bliss in yon orient sphere, 
 By the sunbeams of splendor immortal enlightened. 
 
 Which no more shall go down on tlie grave of the 
 Year! 
 
 LESSON LXXIX. 
 ANOTHER YEAR. 
 
 1. A NOTHER year, another year, 
 
 IJL Has borne its record to the skies ; 
 Another year, another year. 
 
 Untried, unproved, before us lies ; 
 We hail with smiles its dawning ray, — 
 How shall we meet its final day ? 
 
272 SANDEliS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. Another year ! another year ! 
 
 Its squandered hours will ne'er return ; 
 Oh ! many a heart must quail with fear 
 
 O'er Memory's blotted page to turn I 
 No record from that leaf will fade, 
 Nor one erasure may be made. 
 
 3. Another year f another year! 
 
 How many a grief has marked its flight I 
 Some whom we love, no more are here, — - 
 
 Translated to the realms of light. 
 Ah ! none can bless the coming year 
 Like those no more to greet us here. 
 
 4. Another year ! another year ! 
 
 Oh ! many a blessing, too, was given, 
 Our lives to deck, our hearts to cheer, 
 
 And antedate the joys of Heaven ; 
 But they, too, slumber in the past. 
 Where joys and griefs must sink at last. 
 
 5. Another year ! another year ! 
 
 Gaze we no longer on the past ; 
 Nor let us shrink, with faithless fear. 
 
 From the dark shade the future casts. 
 The past, the future, — what are they 
 To those whose lives may end to-day ? 
 
 6. Another year ! another year ! 
 
 Perchance the last of life below ! 
 Who, ere its close. Death's call may hear. 
 
 None but the Lord of life can know. 
 Oh to be found, whene'er that day 
 May come, prepared to pass away ! 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 273 
 
 7. Anotlier year ! another year ! 
 
 Help us earth's tliorny path to tread ; 
 So may each moment bring us near 
 
 To Thee, ere yet our lives are fled. 
 Savior ! we yield ourselves to Thee 
 For time and for eternity. 
 
 LESSON LXXX. 
 THE TELESCOPE AND THE MICROSCOPE. 
 
 I^HE telescope, by piercing the obscurity which limits 
 , the range of our unassisted vision, reveals to us count- 
 less worlds and wonders, which, without its aid, would 
 never have been observed by human ken. Soon after the 
 invention of the telescope, another instrument is formed, 
 called the microscope, which lays open to our view scenes 
 no less wonderful. By it we are enabled to discern, in 
 every particle of matter, innumerable living creatures, too 
 minute for the naked eye to discover. The telescope re- 
 veals to us a system in every star ; the microscope leads us 
 to see a world in every atom. 
 
 2. The one teaches us that this mighty globe, with the 
 whole burden of its people and of its countries, is but a 
 grain of sand on the high field of immensity ; the other^ 
 that every grain of sand may harbor within it the tribes 
 and families of a busy population. The one tells us of the 
 magnificence of the world we tread upon : the other re- 
 deems it from all its insignificance ; for it tells us that in 
 the leaves of every forest, and in the flowers of every gar- 
 den, and in the waters of every rivulet, there are worlds 
 18 
 
274 SANDERS' UNION fcJERIES. 
 
 teeming with life, and numberless as are the glories of the 
 firmament. 
 
 3. The one has suggested to us, that, beyond and above 
 all that is visible to man, there may lie fields of creation 
 which sweep immeasurably along, and carry the impress 
 of the Almighty's hand to the remotest scenes of the uni- 
 verse ; the other suggests to us, that, within and beneath 
 all that minuteness which the aided eye of man has been 
 able to explore, there may lie a region of invisibles ; and 
 that, could we draw aside the mysterious curtain which 
 shrouds it from our senses, w^e might there see a theater 
 of as many wonders as astronomy has unfolded, • — a uni- 
 verse within the compass of a point so small, as to elude 
 all the powers of the microscope, but where the wonder- 
 working God finds room for the exercise of all His attri- 
 butes, where He can raise another mechanism of worlds, 
 and fill and animate them all with the evidences of His 
 glory. 
 
 4. By the telescope, we have discovered that no mag- 
 nitude, however vast, is beyond the grasp of the Divinity ; 
 but, by the microscope, w^e have also discovered that no 
 minuteness, however shrunk from the notice of the human 
 eye, is beneath the condescension of His regard. Every 
 addition to the powers of the one instrument, extends the 
 limit of His visible dominions ; but, by every addition of 
 the powers of the other instrument, we see each part of 
 them more crowded than before with the wonders of His 
 unwearying hand. The one is constantly widening the 
 circle of His territory ; the other is as constantly filling 
 up its separate portions with all that is rich, and various, 
 and exquisite. 
 
 5. In a word, by the one we are told that the Almighty 
 is now at work in regions more distant than geometry has 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 275 
 
 ever measured, and among worlds more manifold than 
 numbers have ever reached ; but, by the other ^ we are also 
 told, that with a mind to comprehend the whole, in the 
 vast compass of its generality, He has also a mind to con- 
 centrate a close and a separate attention on each and all 
 of its particulars ; and that the same God, who sends forth 
 an upholduig influence among the orbs and the movements 
 of astronomy, can fill the recesses of every single atom 
 with the intimacy of His presence, and travel, in all the 
 greatness of His unimpaired attributes, upon every spot 
 and corner of the universe He has formed. 
 
 LESSON LXXXI. 
 IMMENSITY OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 O. M. MITCHEL. 
 
 " Where is the way where light dwelleth ? and as for darkness, where is 
 the place thereof, that thou shouldest take it to the bound thereof, and that 
 thou shouldest know the paths to the house thereof? Knowest thou it, be- 
 cause thou wast then born, or because the number of thy days is great 1" — 
 Job xxxviii. 19, 20, 21. 
 
 GO with me to yonder " light-house * of the skies." 
 Poised on its rocky base, behold that wondrous tube 
 which lifts the broad pupil of its eye high up, as if gazing 
 instinctively into the mighty deep of space. Look out 
 upon the heavens, and gather into your eye its glittering 
 constellations. Pause, and reflect that over the narrow 
 zone of the retina of your eye a universe is pictured, 
 painted by light in all its exquisite and beautiful propor- 
 tions. 
 
 2. Look upon that luminous zone which girdles the sky, 
 
 * Obserratory. 
 
276 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 — observe its faint and cloudy light. How long, think 
 you, that light has been streaming, day and night, with a 
 swiftness which flashes it on its way twelve millions of 
 miles in each and every minute ? — how long has it fled 
 and flashed tlu'ough space to reach your eye and tell its 
 wondrous tale ? Not less than a century has rolled away 
 since it left its home ! Hast thou taken it at the bound 
 thereof? Is this the bound, — here the limit from beyond 
 which light can never come ? 
 
 3. Look to yonder point in space, and declare that thou 
 beholdest nothing, absolutely nothing ; all is blank, and 
 deep, and dark. You exclaim, — '' Surely no ray illumines 
 that deep profound ! " Place your eye for one moment to 
 the tube that now pierces that seeming domain of night, 
 and, lo ! ten thousand orbs, blazing with light unutterable, 
 burst on the astonished sight. Whence start these hidden 
 suns? Whence comes this light from out deep dark- 
 ness ? Knowest thou, O man ! the paths to the house 
 thereof? 
 
 4. Ten thousand years have rolled away since these 
 wondrous beams set out on their mighty journey ! Then 
 you exclaim, — " We have found the boundary of light , 
 surely none can lie beyond this stupendous limit : far in 
 the deep beyond, darkness unfathomable reigns ! Look 
 once more. The vision changes ; a hazy cloud of light 
 now fills the field of the telescope. Whence comes the 
 light of this mysterious object ? Its home is in the mighty 
 deep, as far beyond the limit you had vainly fixed — ten 
 thousand times as far — as that limit is beyond the reach 
 of human vision. 
 
 5. And thus we mount, and rise, and soar, from hight 
 to hight, upward, and ever upward still, till the mighty 
 series ends, because vision f^ils, and sinks, and dies. Hast 
 
UNION FIFTH READEB. 2/i 
 
 thou then pierced the boundary of light ? Hast thou 
 penetrated the domain of darkness ? Hast thou, weak 
 mortal, soared to the fountain whence come these won- 
 drous streams, and taken the light at the hand thereof? 
 Knowest thou the paths to the house thereof ? 
 
 6. Hast thou stood at yonder infinite origin, and bid that 
 flash depart and journey onward, — days, and months, and 
 years, century on century, through countless ages, — mill- 
 ions of years, and never weary in its swift career? 
 Knowest thou when it started ? " Knowest thou it, be- 
 cause thou wast then born, or because the number of thy 
 days is great? " Such, then, is the language addressed by 
 Jehovah to weak, erring, mortal man. How has the light 
 of science flooded with meaning this astonishing passage ! 
 Surely, surely we do not misread, — the interpretation 
 is just. 
 
 LESSON LXXXII. 
 THE FIRST PREDICTER OF AN ECLIPSE. 
 
 O. M. MITCHEL. 
 
 TO those who have given but little attention to the sub- 
 ject, even in our own day, with all the aids of modern 
 science, the prediction of an eclipse seems sufficiently mys- 
 terious and unintelligible. How, then, it was possible, 
 thousands of years ago, to accomplish the same great ob- 
 ject, without any just views of the structure of the system, 
 seems utterly incredible. 
 
 2. Follow then, in imaginatLju, this bold interrogator 
 of the skies to his solitary mountain summit ; withdrawn 
 from the world, surrounded by his mysterious circles, there 
 to watch and ponder through the long -nights of many, 
 
278 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 many years. But hope cheers him on, and smooths his 
 rugged pathway. Dark and deep is the problem ; he 
 sternly grapples with it, and resolves never to give up till 
 victory shall crown his efforts. 
 
 3. He has already remarked that the moon's track in 
 the heavens crossed the sun's, and that this point of cross- 
 ing was in soma way intimately connected with the coming 
 of the dread eclipse. He determines to watch, and learn 
 whether the point of crossing was fixed, or whether the 
 moon in each successive revolution crossed the sun's path 
 at a different point. If the sun in its annual revolution 
 could leave behind him a track^of fire, marking his journey 
 among the stars, it is found that this same track would be 
 followed from year to year, and from century to century, 
 with undeviating precision. 
 
 4. But it was soon discovered that it is far different with 
 the moon. In case she, too, could leave behind her a silver 
 thread of light sweeping round the heavens, in completing 
 one revolution, this thread would not join, but would wind 
 around among the stars, in each revolution crossing the 
 sun's fiery track at a point west of the previous crossing. 
 Tliese points of crossing were called the moon^s nodes. At 
 each revolution the node occurred farther west, until, afler 
 a circle of about nineteen years, it had circulated in the 
 same' direction entirely round the ecliptic. 
 
 5. Long and patiently did the astronomer watch and 
 wait. Each eclipse is duly observed, and its attendant cir- 
 cumstances are recorded ; when, at last, the darkness be- 
 gins to give way, and a ray of light breaks in upon his 
 mind. He finds that no eclipse of the sun ever occurs, 
 unless the new moon is in the act of crossing the sun's 
 track. Here was a grand discovery. He holds the key 
 which he believes will unlock the dread mystery. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 279 
 
 6. To predict an eclipse of the sun, he must sweep for- 
 ward from new moon to new moon, until he finds some 
 new moon which should occur, while the moon was in the 
 act of crossing from one side to the other of the sun's 
 track. This certainly was possible. He knew the exact 
 period from new moon to new moon, and from one cross- 
 ing of the ecliptic to another. With eager eye he seizes 
 the moon's place in the heavens, and her age, and rapidly 
 computes where she will be at her next change. 
 
 7. He finds the new moon occurring far from the sun's 
 track ; he runs round another revolution ; the place of the 
 new moon falls closer to the sun's path, and the next year 
 closer, until, reaching forward with piercing intellectual 
 vigor, he, at last, finds a new moon which occurs precisely 
 at the computed time of her passage across the sun's track. 
 Here he makes his stand, and announces to the startled 
 inhabitants of the world, that, on the day of the occurrence 
 of that new moon, the sim shall expire in dark eclipse. 
 
 8. Bold prediction ! Mysterious prophet ! — : with what 
 scorn must the unthinkinoj world have received this sol- 
 emn declaration I How slowly do the moons roll -away, 
 and with what intense anxiety does the stern philosopher 
 await the coming of that day which should crown him with 
 victory, or dash him to the ground in ruin and disgrace ! 
 Time to him moves on leaden wings ; day after day, and, 
 at last, hour after hour, roll heavily away. The last night 
 is gone ; the moon has disappeared from his eagle gaze in 
 her approach to the sun, and the dawn of the eventful day 
 breaks in beauty on a slumbering world. 
 
 9. This daring man, stern in his faith, climbs alone to 
 his rocky home, and greets the sun as he rises and mounts 
 the heavens, scattering brightness and glory in his path. 
 Beneath him is spread out the populous city, already teem- 
 
280 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ing with life and activity. The busy morning hum rises 
 on the still air, and reaches the watching-place of the soh- 
 tary astronomer. The thousands below him, unconscious 
 of his intense anxiety, buoyant with life, joyously pursue 
 their rounds of business, their cycles of amusement. 
 
 10. The sun slowly climbs the heaven, round, and bright, 
 and full-orbed. The lone tenant of the mountain-top al- 
 most begins to waver in the sternness of his faith as the 
 morning hours roll away. But the time of his triumph, 
 long delayed, at length begins to dawn ; a pale and sickly 
 hue creeps over the face of Nature. The sun has reached 
 his highest point ; but his splendor is dimmed, his light is 
 feeble. At last it comes ! Blackness is eating away his 
 round disk, — onward with slow but steady pace the dark 
 vail moves, blacker than a thousand nights, — the gloom 
 deepens, — the ghastly hue of death covers the universe, — 
 the last ray is gone, and horror reigns ! 
 
 11. A wail of terror fills the murky air, the clangor 
 of brazen trumpets resounds, an agony of despair dashes 
 the stricken millions to the ground ; while that lone man, 
 erect on his rocky summit, with arms outstretched to 
 heaven, pours forth 'the grateful gushings of his heart to 
 God, who had crowned his efforts with triumphant victory. 
 Search the records of our race, and point me, if you can, 
 to a scene more grand, more beautiful ! It is to me the 
 proudest victory that genius ever won. It was the con- 
 quering of nature, of ignorance, of superstition, ^f terror, 
 all at a single blow, and that blow struck by a single arm. 
 
 12. And now do you demand the name of this wonder- 
 ful man ? Alas ! what a lesson of the instability of earthly 
 fame are we taught in this simple recital ! He who had 
 raised himself immeasurably above his race. — who must 
 have been regarded by his fellows as little less than a 
 
UNION FIFTH READEE. 281 
 
 god, — who had inscribed his fame on the very heavens, 
 and had written it in the sun, with a ''pen of iron, and 
 the point of a diamond," even this one has perished from 
 the earth ; name, age, country, are all swept into oblivion. 
 But his proud achievement stands. The monument reared 
 to his honor stands ; and, although the touch of time has 
 effaced the lettering of his name, it is powerless, and can 
 not destroy the fruits of his victory. 
 
 LESSON LXXXIIL 
 
 THE SONG OF LIGHT. 
 
 W. p. PAL5IER. 
 
 1- T1R0M the primal gloom, like an orb of Doom, 
 J_ The sun rolled black and bare, 
 Till I wove him a vest for his Ethiop breast 
 
 Of the threads of my golden hair ; 
 And when the broad tent of the firmament 
 
 Arose on its airy spars, 
 I penciled the hue of its matchless blue, 
 
 And spangled it round with stars. 
 
 2. I painted the flowers of the Eden bowsers. 
 
 And their leaves of living green ; 
 And mine were the dyes in the sinless eyes 
 
 Of Eden's virgin queen ; 
 But when the Fiend's art in the trustful heart 
 
 Had fastened his mortal spell, 
 In the silvery sphere of the first-born year, 
 
 To the tremblincr earth I fell. 
 
282 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. ' 
 
 8. When the waves that burst o'er a world accursed 
 Their work of wrath had sped, 
 And the Ark's lone few — the faithful and true — 
 
 Came forth among the dead, 
 With the wondrous gleams of my bridal dreams, 
 
 I bade their terror cease ; 
 And I wrote, on the roll of the storm's dark scroll, 
 God's Covenant of Peace. 
 
 4. Like a pall at rest on a senseless breast, 
 
 Night's funeral shadow slept, — 
 Where shepherd swains, on Bethlehem's plains, 
 
 Their lonely vigils kept, 
 When I flashed on their sight the herald bright 
 
 Of Heaven's redeeming plan. 
 As they chanted the morn of a Savior born, — 
 
 " Joy ! joy ! to the outcast man ! " 
 
 5. Equal favor I show to the lofty and low, 
 
 On the just and unjust descend ; 
 The blind, whose vain spheres roll in darkness and tears, 
 
 Tell my smile, — the blest smile of a friend ; 
 The flower of the waste by my smile is embraced. 
 
 As the rose in the garden of kings ; 
 At the chrysalis bier of the worm I appear. 
 
 And lo ! the butterfly wings ! 
 
 6. From my sentinel steep by the night-brooded deep, 
 
 I gaze with unslumbering eye. 
 While the cynosure * star of the mariner 
 Is blotted out of the sky ; 
 
 * Cyn' o sure, the constellation of the Lesser Bear, to which, as contain- 
 ing the polar star, the eyes of mariners and travelers are often directed. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 283 
 
 And guided by me through the merciless sea, 
 Though sped by the hurricane's wing, ' 
 
 His compassless, dark, lone, weltering bark 
 To the haven-home safely I bring. 
 
 7. I awaken the flowers in their dew-spangled bowers, 
 
 The birds in their chambers of green ; 
 And mountain and plain glow with beauty again, 
 
 As they bask in my matinal sheen. 
 Oh ! if such be the worth of my presence on earth, 
 
 Though fitful and fleeting the while, 
 What glories must rest on the home of the blest, 
 
 Ever bright with the Deity s srnile 1 
 
 LESSON LXXXIV. 
 
 CHANT AND CHORUS OF THE PLANETS. 
 
 ANNA BLACKWELL. 
 
 An excellent effect may be produced by letting One Pupil read the first 
 four lines of each stanza in a clear, distinct tone of voice, and the Wholb 
 Class read the remaining lines in concert, as indicated. 
 
 ONE PUPIL. 
 
 1. Father of all ! 
 
 With joy Thy children stand 
 To bless the bounty of Thy Parent-hand, 
 And on Thy name with loving reverence call. 
 
 WHOLK CLASS. 
 
 From farthest realms of light 
 Our grateful strains their choral tide unite, 
 And, at Thy universal throne, in adoration fall ! 
 
284 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ONE PUPIL. 
 
 2. Great Worker ! we 
 Rejoice Thy plans to share ; 
 
 In Thy wide labors our high part to bear; 
 Thy ministers, Omnipotent I to be. 
 
 WHOLE CLASS. 
 
 Thus all the realms of light, 
 O God ! with Thee in sympathy unite. 
 And, in a holy and ennobling friendship, work with Thee! 
 
 ONE PUPIL. 
 
 3. Sovereign Divine! 
 We glory in the might 
 
 Of Thine own uncreated Light, 
 Whose living rays Thy sacred brow intwine ! 
 
 WHOLE CLASS. 
 
 (<^) Higher and ever higlier, 
 
 We soar on tii-eless wing, all-glorious Sire! 
 Toward the Eternal Throne, whose splendors on all be- 
 ings shine ! 
 
 "ONE PUPIL. 
 
 4. Love ! measureless, 
 Exhaustless, unto Thee 
 We gravitate eternally ! 
 
 Thou giv'st existence but that Thou may'st bless. 
 
 WHOLE CLASS. 
 
 To Thee we ever tend, 
 
 Seeking with thee, O Central Life ! to blend : 
 Almighty Love, Creation's source, all beings Thee con- 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEB. 285 
 
 LESSON LXXXV. 
 
 • INSIGNIFICANCE OF THE EARTH. 
 
 CHALMEK8. 
 
 THOUGH the earth were to be burned np, though the 
 trumpet of its dissolution were sounded, though yon sky 
 were to pass away as a scroll, and every visible glory which 
 the finger of the Divinity has inscribed on it, were extin- 
 guished forever, — an event so awful to us, and to every 
 world in our vicinity, by which so many suns would be ex- 
 tinguished, and so many varied scenes of life and population 
 would rush into forge tfulness,' — what is it in the high scale 
 of the Almighty's workmanship? A mere shred, which, 
 though scattered into nothing, would leave the universe of 
 God one entire scene of greatness and of majesty. 
 
 2. Though the earth and the heavens were to disappear, 
 there are other worlds which roll afar ; the light of other 
 suns shines upon them ; and the sky which mantles them, is 
 garnished with other stars. Is it presumption to say that 
 the moral world extends to these distant and unknown re- 
 gions' ? that they are occupied w^ith })eople' ? that the chari- 
 ties of home and of neiohborhood flourish there' ? that the 
 praises of God are there lifted up, and his goodness rejoiced 
 in' ? that there piety has its temples and its offerings' '^ and 
 the richness of the divine attributes is there felt and ad- 
 mired by intelligent worshipers' ? 
 
 3. And what is this world in the immensity which teems 
 with worlds ? and what are they who occupy it ? The universe 
 at large would suffer as little in its splendor and variety by 
 the destruction of our planet, as the verdure and sublime 
 magnitude of a forest would suffer by the fall of a single 
 leaf. The leaf quivers on the branch which supports it. 
 
286 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 It lies at the mercy of the slightest accident. A breath of 
 wind tears it from its stem, and it lights on the stream 
 of water which passes underneath. 
 
 4. In a moment, the life, which we know by the micro- 
 scrope the leaf teems with, is extinguished ; and an occur- 
 rence so insignificant in the eye of man, and on the scale 
 of liis observation, carries in it, to the myriads which people 
 lliis Httle leaf, an event as terrible ami decisive as the de- 
 struction of a world. Thus we may see the littleness and 
 insecurity of these myriads. Now, on the grand scale of 
 the universe, ive^ the occupiers of this ball, which performs 
 its round among the suns and systems that astronomy has 
 unfolded, may feel the same littleness and insecurity. We 
 differ from the leaf only in this circumstance, — that it 
 would require the operation of greater elements to destroy 
 us. But these elements exist. 
 
 5. The fire which rages within, may lift its devouring 
 energy to the surface of our planet, and transform it into 
 one wide and wasting volcano. The sudden formation of 
 elastic matter in the bowels of the earth — and it lies with- 
 in the agency of known substances to accomplish this — 
 may explode it into fragments. The exhalation of noxious 
 air from below may impart a virulence to the air that is 
 around us ; it may affect the delicate proportion of its in- 
 gredients ; and the whole of animated nature may wither 
 and die under the malignity of a tainted atmosphere. A 
 blazing comet may cross this fated planet in its orbit ; and 
 all the terrors which superstition has conceived of such an 
 event, may be realized. 
 
 6. We can not anticipate with precision the consequen- 
 ces of an event which every astronomer must know lies 
 within the limits of chance and probability. It may hurry 
 our globe toward the sun , or drag it to the outer regions of 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 287 
 
 the planetary system, or give it a new axis of revolution ; 
 and the effect, which I sliall simply announce without ex- 
 plaining it, would be to change the place of the ocean, and 
 bring another mighty flood upon our islands and conti- 
 nents. 
 
 7. These are changes which may happen in a single in- 
 stant of time, and against which nothing known in the 
 present system of things provides us with any security. 
 They might not annihilate the earth, but they would un- 
 people it ; and we, who tread its surface with such firm and 
 assured footsteps, are at the mercy of devouring elements, 
 which, if let loose upon us by the hand of the Almighty, 
 would spread solitude, and silence, and death over the 
 dominions of the world. 
 
 8. Now, it is this littleness and this insecurity which 
 make the protection of the Almighty so dear to us, and 
 bring with such emphasis to every pious bosom the holy 
 lessons of humility and gratitude. The God who sitteth 
 above, and presides in high authority over all worlds, is 
 mindful of man ; and though, at this moment. His energy 
 is felt in the remotest provinces of creation, we may feel 
 the same security in His providence, as if we were the 
 objects of His undivided care. 
 
 9. It is not for us to bring our minds up to this mysteri- 
 ous agency. But such is the incomprehensible fact, that 
 the same Being, whose eye is abroad over the whole uni- 
 verse, gives vegetation to every blade of grass, and motion 
 to every particle of blood which circulates through the veins 
 of the minutest animal ; that, though His mind takes into 
 His comprehensive grasp immensity and all its wonders, I 
 am as much known to Him as if I were the single object 
 of His attention ; that He marks all my thoughts ; that He 
 gives birth to every feeling and every movement within 
 
288 SANDERS" UNION SERIES. 
 
 me ; and that, with an exercise of power which I can 
 neither describe nor comprehend, the same God who sits 
 in the highest Heaven, and reigns over the glories of the fir-' 
 mament, is at my right hand, to give me every breath 
 which I draw, and every comfort which I enjoy. 
 
 LESSON LXXXYJ. 
 
 HONOR TO THE PROJECTOR OF THE 
 ATLANTIC CABLE. 
 
 A. A. LOW. 
 
 From a speech delivered at a banquet, given to Cyrus W. Field, by the 
 Chamber of Commerce of New York, Nov. 15, 1866. 
 
 IN the days of ancient Rome, when the armies of the 
 republic were extending her sway over all the sur- 
 rounding countries, and her generals returned fi'om suc- 
 cessful war, bearing with them the trophies of victory, it 
 was their custom to halt outside the gates of the city, and 
 demand a triumphal entry. When this was gi'anted by 
 the Roman senate, and adequate preparations had been 
 made, they were received with demonstrations of applause, 
 and welcomed by popular acclamation. 
 
 2. Triumphal arches, erected two thousand years ago, 
 still survive to attest the grandeur of earlier and later con- 
 quests ; and with what imposing ceremonies the heroes of 
 the republic and the empire were admitted to the capital ! 
 So it has been in all times ; and history is a continuous 
 record of homage paid to military genius, however ag- 
 gressive, however destructive of the rights and happiness 
 of man. 
 
 3. Nor has the tribute of respect been confined to those 
 who have gained success in war ; nor has it been limited 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 289 
 
 to kings and queens, or the commanders of victorious 
 armies. In all countries and in all ages, persevering, 
 courageous, faithful, and devoted men, of every caUing and 
 condition of life, have been found to command the admii-a- 
 tion of their fellows, and reap the reward of well doing. 
 Tlie sentiment which honored martial prowess in the days 
 of ancient Rome, exerts the same power, at the present 
 tims, over every American heart. 
 
 4. In our own day, w4th a simplicity more truly repub- 
 lican, but with an earnestness not less sincere than that of 
 the Roman people, we welcome to our cities and our homes 
 the victorious generals, who, by their valor and their suc- 
 cess, have re-established for ourselves and for our children 
 the principles of liberty and good government throughout 
 our land. Nor have we ever been backward in awarding 
 to men of high position in the State, or to men distin- 
 guished as instructors and benefactors of the race, the 
 honors that are justly their due. In days gone by, it has 
 been our pridi and our pleasure to welcome, with such 
 civilities as we know how to render, those who have been 
 raised to the highest office in the gift of the people, and 
 alike the prince and the peer of other realms. 
 
 5. But we are not met here now to exalt president, po- 
 tentate, prince, or titled lord ; albeit the friend in whose 
 honor we are assembled, is known by a Christian name 
 which seems to have been prophetic of his future renown 
 as a kinor amono; men, — and his chief title to our reo-ard 
 comes to us through a long line of descent ; not that genea- 
 logical line, which, proceeding from father to son, can be 
 distinctly traced, — uniting family with family, — but that 
 line, which^ descending from Valentia on the coast of Ire- 
 land^ and stretching two thousand miles across the bed of the 
 Atlantic to Neivfoundland^ reaches "•Hearts Content'''' — 
 
290 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 uniting continent with continent — nation with nation — 
 Europe with America ; bringing all into the most intimate 
 relations, and securing to each other instant knowledge of 
 every thing that is of mutual concern. 
 
 6. I venture to say there is not an emotion known to 
 the human soul, — whether of joy or sorrow, of pleasure 
 or pain, of disappointment following high-wrought expecta- 
 tion, of anxiety bordering on despair, of hope mounting to 
 the region of sublimest faith, — that, during these twelve 
 last years, has not entered into the experience of our long- 
 tried and well-proved champion. 
 
 7. We may fairly claim, that, from first to last, Cyrus 
 W. Field has been more closely, more consistently, identi- 
 fied with the Atlantic Telegraph than any other living 
 man ; and his name and his fame, which the Queen of 
 Great Britain has justly left to the care of the American 
 government and people, will be proudly cherished and 
 gratefully honored. AVe are in daily use of the fruits of 
 his labors ; and it is meet that the men of commerce, 
 of literature and law, of science and art, of all the profes- 
 sions that impart dignity and worth to our nature, should 
 come together, and give a hearty, joyous, and generous 
 welcome to this truly chivalrous son of America. 
 
 8. We have met, not to celebrate a victory of arms on 
 land or sea ; not the acquisition of conquered provinces, 
 annexed to our national domain ; but we have met, rather, 
 to commemorate an event of vast international interest ; an 
 epoch in the progress of science ; the attainment of a 
 great commercial boon ; a triumph over obstacles hitherto 
 deemed insurmountable. We are met to celebrate an 
 achievement that reflects much credit upon the handicraft 
 of the mechanic, on the skill and capacity of the sailor, 
 on the intelligence and liberality of the merchant, — an 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 291 
 
 achievement which elicits our admiration of the electricians 
 who have artfully explored the occult laws of Nature, and, 
 seizing subtle powers hitherto but j)artia]ly developed, have 
 converted them to the use of man, — giving him a new 
 sense of what Omnipresence is. 
 
 9. We have come here to acknowledge the aid imparted 
 to the Atlantic Telegraph Company by the Government^ 
 of Great Britain and the United States, through the en- 
 lightened action of their respective and intelligent states- 
 men ; to own the important part taken by the naval ships 
 of both countries ; the generous pecuniary support ren- 
 dered by the wealthy merchants and factors of Great 
 Britain ; and, above all, to recognize the goodness of that 
 Divine Beino* who has crowned the labors of all with 
 abundant success, — who has vouchsafed such wonderful 
 gifts to man ! 
 
 LESSON LXXXYIT. 
 
 RECOVERY OF THE LOST ATLANTIC CABLE. 
 
 CYRUS W. FIELD. 
 
 BUT our work was not over. After landing the cable 
 safely at Newfoundland, we had another task, — to re- 
 turn to mid-ocean and recover that lost in the expedition 
 of last year. This achievement has, perhaps, excited more 
 surprise than the other. Many even now " do not under- 
 stand it ; " and every day I am asked, " How was it done ? '* 
 Well, it does seem rather difficlilt to fish for a jewel at the 
 bottom of the ocean two and half miles deep. But it is 
 not so very difficult, when you know how. 
 
 2. You may be sure we did not go a-fishing at random, 
 nor was our success mere " luck." It was the triumph of 
 
292 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 the highest nautical and engineering skill. We had four 
 ships, and on board of them some of tlie best seamen in 
 England, — men who knew tlie ocean as a hunter knows 
 every trail in the forest. There was Capt. Moriarty, who 
 was in " The Agamemnon " in 1857-8. He was in " The 
 Great Eastern " last year, and saw the cable wlien it 
 broke ; and he and Capt. Anderson at once took their ob- 
 servations so exact, that they could go right to the spot. 
 
 3. After finding it, they marked the line of the cable by 
 a row of buoys; for fogs would come down, and shut out 
 sun and stars, so that no man could take an observation. 
 These buoys were anchored a few miles apart. They were 
 numbered, and each had a flag-staff on it, so that it could 
 be seen by day, and by a lantern at night. Thus, having 
 taken our bearings, we stood off three or four miles, so as 
 to come broadside on, and then, casting over the grapnel, 
 drifted slowly down upon it, dragging the bottom of the 
 ocean as we went. 
 
 4. At first, it was a little awkward to fish in such deep 
 w^ater ; but our men got used to it, and soon could cast a 
 gi'apnel almost as straight as an old whaler throws a har- 
 poon. Our fishing line was of formidable size. It was 
 made of rope, twisted with wires of steel, so as to bear a 
 strain of thirty tons. It took about two hours for the 
 grapnel to reach bottom ; but we could tell when it struck. 
 I often went to the bow, and sat on the rope, and could feel 
 by the quiver that the grapnel was dragging on the bottom 
 two miles under us. 
 
 5. But it was a very slow business. We had storms and 
 calms, and fogs and squalls. Still we worked on, day after 
 day. Once, on the 17th of August, we got the cable up, 
 and had it in full sight for five minutes, — a long, slimy mon- 
 ster, fresh from the ooze of the ocean's bed ; but our men 
 
UNION FIFTH READEE. 293 
 
 began to cheer so wildly, that it seemed to be frightened, 
 and suddenly broke away, and went down into the sea. 
 This accident kept us at work two weeks longer; but final- 
 ly, on the last night of August, we caught it. We had cast 
 the grapnel thirty times. 
 
 6. It was a little before midnight on Friday, that we 
 hooked the cable ; and it was a little after midnight, Sun- 
 day morning, when we got it on board. What was the 
 aiixiety of those twenty-six hours ! The strain on every 
 man's life was like the strain on the cable itself. When, 
 finally, it appeared, it was midnight ; the lights of the ship, 
 and in the boats around our bows, as they flashed in the 
 faces of the men, showed them eagerly watching for the 
 cable to ap[)ear on the water. 
 
 7. At length, it w^as brought to the surface. All who 
 were allowed to approach, crowded forward to see it. Yet 
 not a word was spoken : only the voices of the officers in 
 command were heard giving orders. All felt as if life and 
 death hung on the issue. It was only when it was brought 
 over the bow, and on to the deck, that men dared to 
 breathe. Even then they hardly believed their eyes. 
 Some crept toward it to feel of it, to be sure it was there. 
 
 8. Then we carried it along to the electricians' room, to 
 see if our long-sought treasure was alive or dead. A few 
 minutes of suspense, and a flash told of the lightning cur- 
 rent again set free. Then did the feeling long pent up 
 burst forth. Some turned away their heads and wept ; 
 others broke into cheers ; and the cry ran from man to 
 man, and was heard down in the engincrrooms, deck below 
 deck, and from the boats on the water, and the other ships, 
 while rockets lighted up the dai-kness of the sea. 
 
 9. Then, with thankful hearts, we turned our faces 
 again to the west. But soon the wind arose, and, for thir- 
 
294 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ty-six hours, we were exposed to all the clangers of a storm 
 on the Atlantic. Yet, in the very hight and fury of the 
 gale, as I sat in the electricians' room, a flash of light came 
 up from the deep, which, having crossed to Ireland, came 
 back to me in mid-ocean, telling that those so dear to me, 
 whom I had left on the banks of the Hudson, were well, 
 and following us with their wishes and their prayers. This 
 was like a whisper of God from the sea, bidding me keep 
 heart and hope. 
 
 10. " The Great Eastern" bore herself proudly through 
 the storm, as if she knew that the vital chord, which was 
 to join two hemispheres, hung at her stern ; and so, on 
 Saturday, the 7th of September, we brought our second 
 cable safely to the shore. Even the sailors caught the 
 enthusiasm of the enterprise, and were eager to share in 
 the honor of the achievement. Brave, stalwart men they 
 were, — at home on the ocean and in the storm, — of that 
 sort that have carried the flag of England around the globe. 
 I see them now as they dragged the shore-end up the beach 
 at Heart's Content, hugging it in their brawny arms as if 
 it were a shipwrecked child, whom they had rescued from 
 the dangers of the sea. God bless them all ! 
 
 11. Such, in brief, is the story of the Telegraph. It 
 has been a long, hard struggle, — nearly thirteen years 
 of anxious watching and ceaseless toil. Often my heart 
 has been ready to sink. Many times, when wandering in 
 the forests of Newfoundland, in the pelting rain, or on the 
 deck of ships, on dark, stormy nights, — alone, far from 
 home, — I have alryiost accused myself of madness and folly 
 to sacrifice the peace of my family, and all the hopes of 
 life, for what might prove, after all, but a dream. I have 
 seen my companions one and another falling by my side, 
 and feared that J, too, might not live to see the end. And 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 295 
 
 yet one hope has led me on, and I have prayed that I 
 might not taste of deatli till this work was accomplished. 
 That prayer is answered ; and now, beyond all acknowl- 
 edorments to men, is the feeling of gratitude TO Al- 
 MiGHTv God. 
 
 LESSON LXXXVIII. 
 HOW CYRUS LAID THE CABLE. 
 
 J. O. SAXE. 
 
 1. rtOME, listen all unto my song; 
 
 l^ It is no silly fable ; 
 'Tis all about the mighty cord 
 They call the Atlantic Cable, 
 
 2. Bold Cyrus Field, he said, says he, 
 
 " I have a pretty notion 
 That I can run a telegraph 
 Across the Atlantic Ocean." 
 
 8. Then all the people laughed, and said 
 They'd like to see him do it ; 
 He might get half-seas-over, but 
 He never could go through it. 
 
 4. To carry out his foolish plan 
 
 He never would be able ; 
 He miglit as well go hang himself 
 With his Atlantic Cable. 
 
 5. But Cyrus was a valiant man, 
 
 A fellow of decision. 
 And heeded not their mocking words, 
 Their laughter and derision. 
 
296 SANDERS' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 6. Twice did his bravest efforts fail, 
 
 And yet liis mind was stable ; 
 He wasn't the man to break liis heart 
 Because he broke his cable. 
 
 7. " Once more, my gallant boys ! " he cried ; 
 
 *' Three times ! — you know the fable, — 
 (ril make it thirty^'' muttered he, 
 " But I will lay this cable ! ") 
 
 8. Once more they tried, — Jiurrafi! hurrah ! 
 
 What means this great commotion ? 
 The Lord be praised ! the cable's laid 
 Across the Atlantic Ocean ! 
 
 9. Loud ring the bells ! — for, flashing through 
 
 Six hundred leagues of water, 
 Old Mother England's benison 
 Salutes her eldest daughter 1 
 
 •j=> 
 
 10. O'er all the land the tidings sped ; 
 
 And soon, in every nation, 
 They'll hear about the cable with 
 Profoundest admiration ! 
 
 11. Now lonor live all the noble souls 
 
 Who helped our gallant Cyrus ! 
 And may their com'age, faith, and zeal. 
 With emulation fire us ! 
 
 12. And may we honor evermore 
 
 The manly, bold, and stable ; 
 And tell our sons, to make them brave, 
 How Cyrus laid the cable ! 
 
UNION FIFTH READEE. 297 
 
 LESSON LXXXIX. 
 
 * Trot's exiled bands, J^neas and liis followers, who, after the destruc- 
 
 tion of Troy by the Greeks, built ships, and in search of Italy, their 
 destined land, were tossed and harassed by unpropitious winds, caused 
 by the wrath of Juno. The wanderings and trials of ^neas constitute 
 the theme of Virgil's ^neid. 
 
 - Gen' o a's god-like child, Columbus, a native of Genoa. See note, page 
 161. 
 
 ^ May' flow er, the name of the a'CSScI in which the Pilgrims sailed to Amer- 
 ica. They landed on Plymouth Eock, Dec. 11, 1020. 
 
 * Frank' lin. See note, page 145. 
 
 * Morse, the inventor of the Telegraph, as used in the United States. 
 
 THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH. 
 
 (Successfully laid between Europe and America July 27, 1866.) 
 
 REV. GEORGE LANSING TAYLOR. 
 
 1. Glory to God above ! 
 
 Tlie Lord of Life and love ! 
 Who makes His curtains clouds and waters dark ; 
 
 Wlio s])reads His chambers on the deep, 
 
 While all its armies silence keep ; 
 Whose hand of old, world-rescuing, steered the ark ; 
 
 Who led Troy's bands ^ exiled. 
 
 And Genoa's god-like child,^ 
 
 And Mayflower,^ grandly wild. 
 And now has guided safe a grander Bark ; 
 
 Who, from her iron loins. 
 
 Has spun the thread that joins 
 Two yearning worlds made one with lightnihg spark. 
 
 2: Praise God ! praise God ! praise God ! 
 
 The sea obeyed His rod, 
 What time His saints marched down its deeps of yore ; 
 
^98 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And now for Commerce, Science, Peace, 
 Redemption, Freedom, Love's increase. 
 He bids great Ocean's barriers cease. 
 
 While flames celestial flash from shore to shore ! 
 
 And nations pause 'mid battles' deadliest roar, 
 
 Till Earth's one heart swells upward, and brims o'er 
 With thanks ! thanks! thanks, and praise ! 
 To Him who lives always ! 
 Who reigns through endless days ! 
 While halleluiahs sweet 
 Roll up as incense meet. 
 
 And all Earth's crowns are cast before His feet ! 
 
 3 "And there was no more sea," 
 Spake in rapt vision he 
 
 Who " a new heaven and a new earth " beheld ! 
 And lo ! we see the day 
 That ends its weltering sway, 
 
 And weds the nations, long asunder held ! 
 Twelve years of toil, of failure, fear, 
 Thousands to scorn and few to cheer, 
 What are they now to ears that hear, 
 To eyes that see their triumph near? 
 
 When lightning-flames the ends of earth shall weld. 
 
 And wrong and right, by lightning beams dispelled, 
 Shall lift from all man's race. 
 And God the Father's face 
 
 Shall smile o'er all the world millennial grace I 
 
 4 Franklin ^ ! and Morse ^ I and Field ! 
 Great shades of centuries yield ! 
 
 Make way for these in your sublimest throng ! 
 Heroes of blood, great in immortal wrong. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 299 
 
 Stoop your helmed heads, and blush ! O seers of song ! 
 Of blood and strife no longer sing ; 
 In heaven Her transport smite the string ; 
 Soar, soar on purer, rapter wing, 
 Till all the throbbing azure ring 
 
 The song that erst began : — 
 " Good will and peace toward man," 
 Redeemed and bought with blood, 
 One mighty brotherhood ! 
 And every bond that brings heart nearer heart, 
 Shall bring man nearer God, and bear a part 
 
 In that great work benign, — 
 The work of love, that makes all worlds divine ! 
 
 LESSON XC. 
 
 * Or' ptte an, pertaining to Orphcns, one of the ancient Grecian bards, who 
 is fabled to have tamed the wildest animals by the music of his lyre. 
 Hence, an Orphean song is one that charms like the strains of Orpheus. 
 
 2 An^ ti podes or An tip'o des (anti, opposite or against; podes, feet;) 
 with feet opposite. People who live on the opposite side of the globe, 
 and whose feet are, of course, directly opposite to the feet of those who 
 live on this side. 
 
 THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1- TTARK ! the warning needles click, 
 XJ_ Hither — thither — clear and quick. 
 He who guides their speaking play. 
 Stands a thousand miles away ! 
 Here we feel the electric thrill 
 Guided by his simple will ; 
 
300 SANDERS' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 Here the instant message read, 
 Brought with more than hghtning speed. 
 
 Sing who will of Or'phe-an ^ lyre, 
 Ours the wonder-working wire ! 
 
 2. Let the sky be dark or clear, 
 Comes the faithful messenger ; 
 Now it tells of loss and grief. 
 Now of joy in sentence brief, 
 
 •Now of safe or sunken ships. 
 Now the murderer outstrips. 
 Now of war and fields of blood. 
 Now of fire, and now of flood. 
 
 Sing who will of Orphean lyre, 
 Ours the wonder-working wire ! 
 
 3. Think the thought, and speak the word, 
 It is caught as soon as heard, 
 
 Borne o'er mountains, lakes, and seas, 
 To the far an-tip' o-des ; ^ 
 Boston speaks at twelve o'clock, 
 Natchez reads ere noon the shock. 
 Seems it not a feat sublime' ? 
 Intellect has conquered Time ! 
 
 Sing who will of Orphean lyre, 
 Ours the wonder-working wire I 
 
 4. Marvel I triumph of our day. 
 Flash all ignorance away ! - 
 Flash sincerity of speech. 
 Noblest aims to all who teach ; 
 Flash till Power shall learn the Right, 
 Flash till Reason conquer Might ; 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEB. 301 
 
 Flash resolve to every mind ; 
 
 Manhood flash to all mankind ! 
 
 Sing who will of Orphean lyre, 
 Ours the wonder-working wire ! 
 
 LESSON XCI. 
 
 ^ Se' lah, a word of doubtful meaning, by some supposed to indicate special 
 attention to the subject ; by others, to signify silence or a pause in the 
 musical performance" of the song while the instrumental performers 
 played some variation or intervening melody. 
 
 BEATITUDES. 
 
 In reading these sentences, an excellent effect may be produced by divid- 
 ing the class equally into two parts, and letting one part read, in concert, the 
 line or lines marked \st Voice; and the other part, the line or lines marked 
 2d Voice ; or one pupil may read that part marked \st Voice, and the next 
 pupil the part marked 2c? Voice, alternately. 
 
 \st Voice. Blessed are the poor in spirit ; 
 
 2d Voice, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are they that mourn ; 
 
 2 V. for they shall be comforted. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are the meek; 
 
 2 V. for they shall inherit the earth. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst 
 
 after righteousness ; 
 
 2 V. for they shall be filled. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are the merciful ; 
 
 2 V, for they shall obtain mercy. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are the pure In heart ; 
 
 2 V. for they shall see God. 
 
302 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are the peace-makers ; 
 
 2 V, for thej shall be called the children of God. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are they which are persecuted for right- 
 
 eousness' sake ; 
 
 2 V. for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are ye when men shall revile you, and per- 
 
 secute you, and shall say all manner of evil 
 against you falsely, for my sake. 
 
 2 V, Rejoice, and be exceeding glad ; for great is your 
 
 reward in heaven. 
 
 1 V, Blessed is he that considereth the poor : 
 
 2 K the Lord will deliver him in time of trouble. 
 
 1 V, Blessings are upon the head of the just , 
 
 2 V, but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked. 
 
 1 V. The memory of the just is blessed ; 
 
 2 F". but the name of the wicked shall rot. 
 
 1 V. Blessed are they that dwell in thy house ; 
 
 2 F". they will be still praising thee. Selah.^ 
 
 1 V. Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound ; 
 
 2 V, they shall walk, O Lord ! in the light of thy coun- 
 
 tenance. 
 
 1 V. Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, that de- 
 
 lighteth greatly in His commandments. 
 
 2 V. His seed shall be mighty upon the earth ; the gen- 
 
 eration of the upright shall be blessed. 
 
 1 V. Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel 
 
 of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of 
 shiners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. 
 
 2 F". But his delight is in the law of the Lord ; and in 
 
 His law doth he meditate day and night. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 303 
 
 1 V. Blessed is the man that heareth me, watching daily 
 
 at my gates, waiting at the posts of my doors. 
 
 2 F. For whoso findeth me, findeth life, and shall obtain 
 
 favor of the Lord. 
 
 1 F. Blessed is the man that trusteth in the Lord, and 
 
 whose hope the Lord is. 
 
 2 F. For he shall be as a tree planted by the waters, and 
 
 that spreadeth out her roots by the river, and 
 shall not see when heat cometh. 
 
 1 F. Blessed is that servant, whom his lord, when he 
 
 cometh, shall find so doing. 
 
 2 F. Verily I say unto you, that he shall make him' ruler 
 
 over all his goods. 
 
 1 F". Blessed is the man that endureth temptation ; 
 
 2 F. for, when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of 
 
 life, which the Lord hath promised to them that 
 love Him. 
 
 1 F. Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from 
 
 henceforth : 
 
 2 F. Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their 
 
 labors, and their works do follow them. 
 
 1 F. Blessed and holy is he that hath part in the first res- 
 
 urrection : 
 
 2 F. on such the second death hath no power. 
 
 1 F. Blessed are they that do His commandments ; 
 
 2 F, that they may have right to the tree of life, and 
 
 may enter in through the gates into the city. 
 
 1 F. Blessed be the Lord God of Israel from everlasting 
 
 to everlasting;. 
 
 2 F. Amen, and Amen ! 
 
304 SANDEES' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 LESSON XCII. . 
 
 * Kep'ler, see note, page 157. 
 
 * Brahe, Tycho, a distinguished astronomer, was born Dec. 14, 1546; 
 
 and died Oct. 24, 1601. The celebrated Observatory of Oranienberg, 
 or the city of the heavens, was founded in 1576, and supplied with instru- 
 ments. Within its walls, Tycho Brahe carried on those observations 
 with which his name is inseparably connected. 
 ' New' ton, see note, page 94. 
 
 * Pope, Alexander, a celebrated English poet, was born in London, 
 
 1688; and died 1744. He was deformed, and small in stature. The 
 principal of his poetical writings are entitled " Essay on Criticism," 
 "Essay on Man," "Moral Essays." He also translated the Iliad and 
 Odyssey of Homer. 
 
 * Arctu'rus, a fixed star of the first magnitude in the constellation 
 
 Bootes. 
 
 * Nept' une, a large planet beyond Uranus, discovered by Galle of Berlin, 
 
 Sept. 23, 1846. Its mean distance from the sun is 2,850,000,000 
 miles, and its period of revolution is about 164 years. 
 
 THE PRIDE OF IGNORANCE. 
 
 S. W. TAYLOR. 
 
 TELL me not of tlie pride of scientific men ! We have, 
 it is true, some few cases of the pride of learning, but 
 a multitude of the pride of ignorance. The grossly igno- 
 rant man, imagining himself placed at the very center of 
 the earth's fancied plane, and exactly beneath the highest 
 point in heaven's arch, with arms akimbo, struts forth, as 
 the principal occupant of the material universe. This is 
 manifest to common observation. Something like this is 
 also seen among the different classes in the same school, 
 and in communities, among individuals of different grades 
 of civilization. 
 
 2. An accurate knoAvledge of men and things, naturally 
 represses pride and promotes Jiumility. The diligent stu- 
 dent of Nature, as he gains a deeper and deeper knowledge 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 305 
 
 of the great book of God's wisdom, goodness, and power, 
 necessarily sees all finite glory dwindling and fading ; ho 
 mnst see himself, too, depreciating in comparison with the 
 extent and grandeur of the objects Avhich successively oc- 
 cupy his vast and illuminated field of view. It is evident, 
 that the more we learn of what other men have accom- 
 plished in pursuits and circumstances like our own, and 
 the more clearly Ave discover how much we depend on 
 others for what we possess and accomplish, the more effect- 
 ually will our humility be cultivated. 
 
 3. The philosopher is in circumstances peculiarly favor- 
 able to make him feel and acknowledge his heavy indebt- 
 edness to his predecessors and contemporaries. He can 
 not fail of being convinced, that, were any generation of 
 men entirely destitute of transmitted knowledge, they could 
 hardly, within the ordinary limits of human life, find time 
 to clothe themselves^ and erect permanent dwellings. They 
 must commence life as savages, and, at death, have nothing 
 better than blankets and Avigwams to bequeath to their 
 savage successors. 
 
 4. Had not Kepler^ inherited the avails of Tycho 
 Brahe's- labors in descriptive astronomy, it is certain he 
 could never have been distinguished in physical astronomy, 
 as the legislator of the skies. Without a legacy from his 
 ancestors, even Newton^ must have been comparatively 
 poor ; and the scientific wealth amassed and transmitted by 
 Newton and others, has been the making of their heirs, now 
 the illustrious philosophers of Europe and America. 
 
 5. But if you chance to meet with a stubborn case of 
 pride in a philosopher, do not hastily dismiss the case a» 
 incurable. He can be cured of any extraordinary degreo' 
 of pride, if he has a breath of the spirit of true philosophy. 
 But do nothing, I beseech you, to lessen his amount of sci- 
 
 20 
 
806 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ence ; rather follow the good old specific of Pope : ^ Give 
 him to drink more deeply. Direct his attention to the 
 treasures of science already amassed. 
 
 6. Show him the schools, the laboratories, and observa- 
 tories of Europe and the United States of America ; show 
 him their libraries, whose shelves are bending beneath pon- 
 derous tomes, the faithful records of literary and philosophic- 
 al research ; show him the rich gifts. of science to agricult- 
 ure, commerce, and the whole sisterhood of the arts of 
 peace ; show him not only what has been accomplished, 
 but show him every enlightened part of the earth, at this 
 moment busy as a bee-hive in all the departments of phi- 
 losophy. 
 
 7. Then conduct him into those extensive fields of sober 
 enterprise which sound philosophy has projected, and you 
 give him the position which Newton held when under the 
 conviction that all wdiich philosophy has done^ in compari- 
 son with what it is destined to accomplish in ages to come, 
 amounts to nothing more than the examination of a few 
 pebbles and pearls thrown upon the shore of a broad ocean, 
 from the undiminished treasures of its immense bed. 
 
 8. If our patient is not yet recovered, immerse him in 
 the great deep of space. Show him something of the ex- 
 tent of JehovaKs ivorks. Bid him look at himself, and then 
 at the earth, Avhose extended radius spreads the earth's sur- 
 face into an apparent plain. Next, equip him with the 
 quick wings of light, putting him upon a rate of traveling 
 equivalent to twenty-four diameters of the earth in a sin- 
 gle second. Within eight minutes he finds himself alight- 
 ing upon the sun, compared with which, instead of the 
 earth as a standard of bulk, he has the mortification to 
 perceive that his body has shrunk from the dimensions of 
 three cubic feet to the one two-hundredth part of a cubic 
 inch, — physically. J a contemptible insect ! 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 307 
 
 9. Here let him stop long enough to ask the question, 
 which milHons of years will not answer, — "What won- 
 ders, what treasures, are contained m that deep ocean of 
 light ? " Thence let him, witli undiminished velocity, 
 speed his way to Sirius,* whose matchless orb, at the end, 
 perhaps, of a three-years' flight, he beholds under his feet, 
 exei ting upon a splendid retinue of planets, in the powers 
 of light, heat, and gravitation, the energy of fourteen suns, 
 such as the one in whose light we are rejoicing. 
 
 10. If still there is anything of our philosopher's jt?nc?e 
 or of himself remaining, let him range himself within the 
 sublime circumference of the galaxy ; let him, with the 
 most powerful telescope in use, spy out some faint nebula 
 most delicately fringing the absurdly imagined borders of 
 infinity, and not unlike the subtle vapor which the keen- 
 eyed little girl can possibly discern issuing from the throat 
 of the singing-sparrow. But send him not thither with 
 only the speed of light ; for, with iliat^ thousands of years 
 might not suffice for the journey. Give him, rather, the 
 mysterious power of the imagination^ by which he can as- 
 sume, with equal facility, and in equal time, stations indefi- 
 nitely near, and infinitely remote. 
 
 11. From the station first assumed, he sees that nebula 
 resolved into brilliant points ; from the next, he sees each 
 of those points bright as Arcturus^ or Capella ; and, from 
 the next station, he beholds it a glorious sun! What had 
 been deemed the center and circumference of the material 
 universe, have reciprocated their positions ; and, from one 
 of those foreign suns, he looks back after the locality of 
 his native earth ; when, lo ! the vast orbit of Neptune^ has 
 closed in upon the focus occupied by our sun ; the sun 
 himself has dwindled to a point, — ihut point has vanished, 
 
 * Sir' I us, the large, bright star called the Dog-star. 
 
308 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and taken with it all earth-born philosophers, with their 
 works, the scene of their labors, and the entire sphere of 
 their observation. How, naturally^ must our philosopher 
 now adopt the language of the sublime prophet with ref- 
 erence to the infinite Creator! — " All nations before Him 
 are as nothing, and they are counted to Him less than 
 nothing, and vanity." * 
 
 LESSON XCIII. 
 
 ^ Ar CHI me'des, the most celebrated of the ancient geometers, was born 
 at Syracuse about 291 years b.c. ; and died 212 b.c. He was related 
 to Hiero, King of Syracuse, Avho deemed it a great honor to have so 
 distinguished a philosopher as his relative. He devoted his time to the 
 cultivation of mathematical and physical sciences. He invented the 
 screw for raising water, which bears his name ; and Ave owe to him 
 the process of detecting the adulteration of the precious metal in King 
 Hicro's crown. Such was his joy at this discovery, it is said he rushed 
 through the streets of Syracuse in a state of nudity, exclaiming, — 
 " Eureka, Eureka ! " — "/ have found, I have found! " 
 
 2 Em py re' an, the highest heaven, where the pure element of fire was sup- 
 posed by the ancients to subsist. 
 
 .* Pha' e ton, the son of Phoebus and Clymene, or of Cephalus and Aurora, 
 that is, the son of light, or of the sun. He is fabled to have begged of 
 Phoebus that he would permit him to guide the chariot of the sun ; in 
 doing which he manifested want of skill ; and, being struck with a 
 thunderbolt by Jupiter, he was hurled headlong into the River Po. 
 
 SCIENCE AND ART. 
 
 D. BREW^STEU. 
 
 IN the study of natural philosophy, chemistry, and natu- 
 ral history, a wide field of knowledge will be spread 
 out before you, in Avhich every fact you observe, and every 
 truth you learn, will surprise and delight you. Creations 
 of boundless extent, displaying unlimited power, matchless 
 
   Isaiah, 40th chapter, 17 th verse. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 809 
 
 wisdom, and overflowing beneficence, will, at every step, 
 surround you. The infinitely great and the infinitely little 
 will compete for your admiration ; and, in contemplating 
 the great scheme of creation which these inquiries present 
 to your minds, you will not overlook the almost superhu- 
 man power by which it has been developed. 
 
 2. Fixed upon the pedestal of his native earth, and with 
 no other instrument but the eye and the hand, the genius 
 of man has penetrated the dark and distant recesses of 
 time and space. The finite has comprehended the in- 
 finite. The being of a day has pierced backwards into 
 primeval tiyne^ deciphering the subterranean monuments, 
 and inditing its chronicle of countless ages. In the 
 rugged crust and shattered pavement of our globe, he has 
 detected those gigantic forces by which our seas and conti- 
 nents have changed places, — by which our mountain 
 ranges have emerged from the bed of the ocean, — by 
 which the gold, and the silver, the coal, and the iron, and 
 the lime, have been thrown into the hands of man as the 
 materials of civilization, — and by which mighty cycles 
 of animal and vegetable life have been embalmed and 
 entombed. 
 
 3. In your astronomical studies^ the Earth on which you 
 dwell will stand forth in space a suspended ball, taking its 
 place as one of the smallest of the planets, and like them 
 pursuing its appointed path, — the arbiter of times and 
 seasons. Beyond our planetary system, now extended, by 
 the discovery of Neptune, to nearly three thousand mill- 
 ions of miles from the sun, and throughout the vast ex- 
 panse of the universe, the telescope will exhibit to you 
 new suns and systems of worlds, infinite in number and 
 variety, sustaining, doubtless, myriads of living beings, and 
 presenting new spheres for the exercise of divine power 
 and beneficence. . . . 
 
810 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 4. The advances which have recently been made in the 
 mechanical and useful arts, have already begun to influence 
 our social condition, and must affect still more deeply our 
 systems of education. The knowledge which used to con- 
 stitute a scholar, and fit him for social and intellectual in- 
 tercourse, will not avail him under the present ascendency 
 of practical science. New and gigantic inventions mark 
 almost every passing year, — the colossal tubular bridge^ 
 conveying the monster train over an arm of the sea, — the 
 submarine cable, carrying the pulse of speech beneath two 
 thousand miles of ocean, — the monster ship freighted with 
 thousands of lives, ^ and the huge rifle-gun, throwing its 
 fatal charge across miles of earth or 9f ocean. 
 
 5. New ai'ts, too, useful and ornamental, have sprung 
 up luxuriantly around us. New powers of Nature have 
 been evoked, and man communicates with man across seas 
 and continents with more certainty and speed than if he 
 liad been endowed with the velocity of the race-horse, or 
 provided with the pinions of the eagle. Wherever we 
 are, in short, art and science surround us. They have 
 given birth to new and lucrative professions. Whatever 
 we purpose to do, they help us. In our houses, they greet 
 us with light and heat. When we travel, we find them at 
 every stage on land, and at every harbor on our shores. 
 They stand beside our board by day, and beside our couch 
 by night. 
 
 6. To our thoughts they give the speed of lightning ; 
 and to our time-pieces, the punctuality of the sun ; and 
 though they can not provide us with the boasted lever of 
 Archimedes^ to move the earth, or indicate the spot upon 
 which we must stand, could we do it, they have put into 
 our hands tools of matchless power, by which we can study 
 the remotest worlds ; and they have furnished us with an 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 311 
 
 intellectual plummet^ by which we can sound the depths of 
 the earth, and count the cycles of its endurance. 
 
 7. In his hour of presumption and ignorance, man has 
 tried to do more than this ; but, though he was not per- 
 mitted to reach the heavens with his cloud-capped tower 
 of stone, and has tried in vain to navigate the aerial ocean^ 
 it was given him to ascend into the empyrean^ by chains 
 of thought which no lightning could fuse, and no comet 
 strike ; and though he has not been allowed to grasp with 
 an arm of flesh the products of other worlds, or tread upon 
 the pavement of gigantic planets, he has been enabled to 
 scan, with more than an eagle's eye, the mighty creations 
 in the bosom of space, — to march intellectaally over the 
 mosaics of sidereal systems, and to follow the adventurous 
 Phaeton^ in a chariot which can never be overturned. 
 
 LESSON XCIY. 
 
 ^ Gaul, a native or inhabitant of Gaul, the name anciently given to France. 
 
 ^ Goth, one of an ancient tribe or nation, of Asiatic origin, who overran 
 
 the Roman Empire, and took an important part in its subversion. 
 
 ADVANCE. 
 
 D. F. MCCARTHY. 
 
 1. C\ OD bade the Sun with golden step sublmie 
 \X Advance ! 
 
 He whispered in the listening ear of Time, 
 
 Advance ! 
 He bade the guiding Spirit of the stars. 
 With lightning speed, in silver-shining cars, 
 Along the bright floor of his azure hall 
 
 Advance ! 
 Sun, Stars, and Time obey the voice, and all 
 
 Advance ! 
 
312 . SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. The river at its bubbling fountain cries, 
 
 Advance ! 
 The clouds proclaim, like heralds, through the skies, 
 
 Advance ! 
 Throughout the world, the mighty Master's laws 
 Allow not one brief moment's idle pause ; 
 The earth is full of life, — the swelling seeds 
 
 Advance ! 
 And summer hours, like flowery harnessed steeds, 
 
 Advance ! 
 
 p' 
 
 To man's most wondrous hand the sam.e voice crie^ 
 
 Advance I 
 Go, clear the woods, and o'er the bounding tide 
 
 Advance ! 
 Go, draw tlie marble from its secret bed, 
 And make the cedar bend its giant head ; 
 Let domes and columns through the wandering air 
 
 Advance ! 
 The world, O man ! is thine. But wouldst thou sliax^e? 
 
 Advance ! 
 
 Unto the soul of man the same voice spoke, 
 
 Advance ! 
 From out the chaos thunder-like it broke. 
 
 Advance ! 
 Go, track the comet in its wheeling race, 
 And drag the lightning from its hiding-place ; 
 From out the night of ignorance and tears, 
 
 Advance ! 
 For love and hope, borne by the coming years, 
 
 Advance I 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 813 
 
 6. All heard, and some obeyed, the great command, 
 
 Advance ! 
 It passed along from listening land to land, 
 
 Adv ance ! 
 The strong grew stronger, and the weak grew strong, 
 As passed the war-cry of the world along, — 
 Awake, ye nations ! know your powers and riglits ; 
 
 Advance ! 
 Through Hope and Work, to Freedom's new delights, 
 
 Advance ! 
 
 6. Knowledge came down, and waved her steady torch, 
 
 Advance ! 
 Sages proclaimed, 'neath many a marble j)orch. 
 
 Advance ! 
 As rapid lightning leaps from peak to peak, 
 Tlie Gaul,* the Goth,^ the Roman, and the Greek, 
 The painted Briton, caught the winged word, 
 
 Advance ! 
 And earth grew young, and caroled as a bird, 
 
 Advance ! 
 
 LESSON XCY. 
 
 THE POLAR STAR. 
 
 WESTBY GIBSON. 
 
 1. CJTAR of the North, whose clear, cold light 
 KJ Breaks on the darkness of the sky, 
 When solemn-paced the pilgrim Night 
 
 In silence journeys by ! 
 Watcher by heaven's embattled walls, 
 How far through Nature's circle falls 
 
 The radiance of thine eye ? 
 
 14 
 
814 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Thou center-point of myriad spheres, 
 Through aged Time's gi'ay round of years I 
 
 2. Bright dweller by the unfooted North, 
 New light hath ever clothed thy face, 
 Since the high God first launched thee forth 
 
 Into the boundless space ; 
 Mountains have from their base been cast, — 
 Earthquakes have opened caverns vast, — 
 
 Old Ocean changed its place ; 
 Nations and tribes of star-bright fame 
 Have perished, — thou art still the same I 
 
 8. Thy glance is ever bold and bright, — 
 Thou never weariest in thy task ; 
 What time departs the sable night, 
 
 And morn with rosy mask 
 Glides on through clouds, like hills of snow, 
 Or, in the noontide's passionate glow. 
 
 All earth and ocean bask ; 
 Till westward, down the reddening air 
 Drops the round sun, — thou still art there ! 
 
 4. Long wert thou worshiped as a guide 
 By the bold dwellers on the sea, 
 Where neither mark nor track abide, — 
 
 Changefully eternally ! 
 When o'er them crept the night-hours dark. 
 Through the wide waste they urged the bark. 
 
 By science won from thee, 
 Till the dark presence of the storm 
 Smote from their eyes thy beaming form. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 315 
 
 Wliat ages from von arctic bed 
 
 » 
 
 Hath thy deep-fountained radiance shone ! 
 Nor may that golden flame be dead 
 
 So long as Time rolls on ; 
 But still, Avith clear and steadfast rays, 
 Emblem that faith by Avhich we gaze 
 
 On the Eternal One, — 
 The beacon by whose light we ride, 
 Triumphing o'er Life's dangerous tide. 
 
 O brio;ht and beautiful ! in thee 
 
 We read God's love — His power, how strong, 
 That through the sky's immensity 
 
 Thy giant mass out-flung ! 
 So distant from our rolling world. 
 That, were thy sphere of beauty hurled 
 
 From the resounding throng. 
 Thousands of years might pass away 
 Ere thine old realm in darkness lay. 
 
 LESSON XCYI. - 
 
 ^ O lym' pi an, pertaining' to Olymjius, a mountain in Thessaly, the fabled 
 
 abode of the gods. 
 ' Ti' TANS, giants of ancient mythology, enormous in size and strength. 
 ^ Si' na 1, a mountain in the peninsula of Arabia, from the summit of 
 
 which God published his law to the Israelites. 
 ' Cal' va ry, the name given to a slight elevation north of the ancient city 
 
 of Jerusalem, perhaps half a mile distant from the temple, and noted 
 
 as the place of the crucifixion of Christ. 
 ^ A poc A I ifp' TIC, ])ertaining to the Revelation of St. John, in Patmos, 
 
 near th i close of the first century. 
 
816 SANDEBS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 MOUNTAINS. 
 
 E. M. MORSE. 
 
 MOUI^TAINS! who was your Builder? Who laid 
 your awful foundations in the central fires, and piled 
 your rocks and snow-capped summits among the clouds ? 
 Who placed you in the gardens of the world, like noble 
 altars, on which to offer the sacrificial gifts of many 
 nations? Who reared your rocky walls in the barren 
 desert, like towering pyramids, like monumental mounds, 
 like giants' graves, like dismantled piles of royal ruins, 
 telling a mournful tale of glory, once bright, but now fled 
 forever, as flee the dreams of a midsummer's night? 
 Who gave you a home in the islands of the sea, — those 
 emeralds that gleam among the waves, — those stars of 
 ocean that mock the beauty of the stars of night ? 
 
 2. Mountains ! I know who built you. It was God ! 
 His name is written on your foreheads. He laid your 
 corner-stones on that glorious morning when the orchestra 
 of Heaven sounded the anthem of creation. He clothed 
 your high, imperial forms in royal robes. He gave you 
 a snowy garment, and wove for you a cloudy vail of crim- 
 son and gold. He crowned you with a diadem of icy 
 jewels ; pearls from the arctic seas ; gems from the frosty 
 pole. Mountains ! ye are glorious. Ye stretch your gran- 
 ite arms away toward the vales of the undiscovered ; ye 
 have a lonmns: for immortality. 
 
 3. But, Mountains ! ye long in vain. I called you glo- 
 rious, and truly ye are ; but your glory is like that of the 
 starry heavens, — it shall pass away at the trumpet-blast 
 of the angel of the Most High. And yet ye are worthy 
 of a high and eloquent eulogium. Ye were the lovers of 
 the daughters of the gods ; ye are the lovers of the daugh- 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 317 
 
 ters of Liberty and Religion now ; and in your old and 
 feeble age the children of the skies shall honor your bald 
 heads. The clouds of heaven — those shadows of Olym- 
 pian ^ power, those spectral phantoms of dead Titans ^ — 
 kiss your summits, as guardian angels kiss the brow of 
 infant nobleness. On your sacred rocks I see the foot- 
 prints of the Creator ; I see the blazing fires of Sinai,' 
 and hear its awful voice ; I see the tears of Calvary,^ and 
 listen to its mighty groans. 
 
 4. Mountains ! ye are proud and haughty things. Ye 
 hurl defiance at the storm, the lightning, and the wind ; 
 ye look down with deep disdain upon the thunder-cloud ; 
 ye scorn the dev'astating tempest ; ye despise the works of 
 puny man ; ye shake your rock-ribbed sides with giant 
 laughter, wlien the great earthquake passes by. Ye stand 
 as giant sentinels, and seem to say to the boisterous bil- 
 lows, — '' Thus far shalt thou come, and here shall thy 
 proud waves be stayed ! " 
 
 5. Mountains i ye are growing old. Your ribs of gran- 
 ite are getting w eak and rotten ; your muscles are losing 
 their fatness ; your hoarse voices are heard only at distant 
 intervals ; your volcanic heart throbs feebly ; and your 
 lava-blood is thickening, as the winters of many ages 
 gather their chilling snows around your venerable forms. 
 The brazen sunlight laughs in your old and wrinkled faces ; 
 the pitying moonlight nestles in your hoary locks ; and the 
 silvery starlight rests upon you like the halo of inspiration 
 that crowned the heads of dying patriarchs and prophetSo 
 Mountains ! ye must die. Okl Father Time, that sexton 
 of earth, has dug you a deep, dark tomb ; and in silence 
 ye shall sleep after sea and shore shall have been pressed 
 by the feet of the apocalyptic^ angel, through the long 
 watches of an eternal night. 
 
318 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XCYII. 
 
 THE ALPS. 
 
 WILLIS GAYLOKD CLARK. 
 
 1. T)ROUD monuments of God ! sublime ye stand 
 X Among the wonders of His mighty hand ; 
 With svimmits soaring in the upper sky, 
 Wliere the broad day looks down with burning eye ; 
 Where gorgeous clouds in solemn pomp repose, 
 Flinging rich shadows on eternal snows : 
 ' Piles of triumphant dust, ye stand alone. 
 And hold, in kingly state, a peerless throne ! 
 
 2^, Like olden conquerors, on high ye rear 
 The regal ensign and the glittering spear : 
 Round icy spires the mists, in wreaths unrolled, 
 Float ever near, in purple or in gold ; 
 . And voiceful torrents, sternly rolling there. 
 Fill with wild music the unpillared air. 
 What garden or what hall, on earth beneath, 
 Thrills to such tones as o'er the mountains breathe ? 
 
 8. There, through long ages past, those summits shone 
 When morning radiance on their state was thrown ; 
 There, when the summer-day's career was done, 
 Played the last glory of the sinking sun ; 
 There, sprinkling luster o'er the cataract's shade, 
 The chastened moon her glittering rainbow made ; 
 And, blent with pictured stars, her luster lay 
 Where to still vales the free streams leaped away, 
 
 4. Where are the thronging hosts of other days, 
 Whose banners floated o'er the Alpine ways ; 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 319 
 
 Who, through their high defiles, to battle wound, 
 While deadly ordnance stirred the hights around ? 
 Gone, like the dream that melts at early mom 
 When the lark's anthem through the sky is borne ; 
 Gone, like the wrecks that sink in ocean's spray ; 
 And chill Oblivion murmurs, — " Where are they?" 
 
 Yet " Alps on Alps " still rise ; the lofty home 
 Of storms and eagles, where their pinions roam : 
 Still round their peaks the magic colors lie, 
 Of morn and eve, imprinted on the sky ; 
 And still, while kings and thrones shall fade and fall, 
 And empty crowns lie dim upon the pall, — 
 Still shall their glaciers flash, their torrents roar, 
 Till kingdoms fail, and nations rise no more. 
 
 LESSON XCVIIL 
 
 DESIRE TO BE REMEMBERED. 
 
 FORGOTTEN ! How harshly that word grates upon the 
 ear ! With what icy coldness it falls on the heart ! 
 How we shrink from the thought, that, ere long, all mem- 
 ory of us will have faded from the minds of men ; that 
 tiiere will be a time, when, of all who love us now^ or 
 who ever ivill love us, not one will be left to tell that we 
 existed; when, of those who may dwell in the places we 
 now occupy, not one will recognize a vestige of any thing 
 we ever did, or that we ever lived ! 
 
 2. To BE FORGOTTEN ! — oh ! fearful thought! It is this 
 which makes us linger when we say farewell ; it is this 
 which nerves the heart and strenothens the arm when the 
 
320 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 horrid din of war shuts ont the memory of dear associa- 
 tions ; and this wrings the life-blood from that heart, and 
 causes the arm to fall powerless. It is this which bears up 
 against discouragements those who would mount to Fame's 
 highest pinnacle, there to inscribe a name which shall live 
 loiig after they themselves have passed away. A name ! — 
 what a slight token of i-emembrance for the giant minds of 
 earth to bequeath ! A name ! when the form, the counte- 
 nance, shall have a place in the memory of none ! 
 
 3. We all love to cherish the thouo-ht that we shall not 
 he forgotten^ that we shall not be dead to others, when the 
 warm pulsations of our hearts have ceased ; that " dumb 
 forgetfulness " yf'iW not bind our memories in the chains of 
 silence. We can all designate some in our immediate 
 presence, in whose surviving thoughts our love, ourselves, 
 would gladly dwell. Assured of this, and who would not 
 
 •* Leave the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
 Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind " ? 
 
 But it may not be. When our eyes are stamped with 
 the seal of death, some few faithful ones will mourn our 
 loss, some bitter tears be shed over our graves, and, in a 
 little while, we shall be forgotten. 
 
 4. There are those, however, and not a few, who have 
 won an earthly immortality hy their thoughts and deeds. To 
 tliese^ though their forms have faded from the eye of Time, 
 and their monuments been fanned to dust by his wing, — to 
 these it has never been said, " Thus far shalt thou go, and 
 no farther." They live, love, and are loved, as when the 
 earth was gladdened by their actual presence. We have 
 felt their spirits breathing into and mingling with ours, 
 when the world looked dark, and all has become bright 
 again. 
 
TTNION FIFTH READEE. 321 
 
 5. With a prophetic tone their voices have rung in our 
 ears, rousing us from dull torpor and senseless slumber to 
 high thought and holy purpose. No : they are not dead; 
 they are not forgotten ! Aspirer after fame, wouldst thou 
 leave some traces on the shores of Time, over which the 
 waves of oblivion shall dash with all their fury in vain^ ? 
 Wouldst thou be lulled to thy last sleep with the sweet 
 consciousness that thou Avilt not be forgotten' ? If so, *' go 
 thou and do likewise." 
 
 6. A little star shining so soothingly, whispering peace 
 to the rebellious heart, and hope to the desolate, were the 
 decree of the Almighty to go forth that its light must be 
 extinguished, would long afterwards be seen by us, twink- 
 ling and cheering as ever. So with the great and good of 
 earth. The light which hovers around their pathway, can 
 not grow dim, though we consign their bodies to the tomb, 
 vmtil Time's course is fully run ; and even then it will 
 shine as brightly as ever, in a holier, a purer land than 
 this. In that land, also, it is our hope that the severed 
 ties of nature and of friendship will be reunited. There 
 we shall see those whom we have loved, and there forgot-^ 
 ten is a forbidden word. 
 
 LESSON XCIX. 
 
 ^ Mil' ton. See note, page 107. 
 
 - Klop' stock, Friedricb, a celebrated German poet, was born in Prussian 
 Saxony, 1724, and died 1803. He devoted himself entirely to litera- 
 ture. His greatest work was the sacred epic called " The Messiah," 
 He made himself respectably known also by philological writings. 
 
 ^ Old Mortality, a character and the title of a novel by Sir Walter Scott. 
 The name is said to have been a sobriquet popularly conferred upon 
 Robert Patterson, a religious itinerant of the later half of the last cen- 
 21 
 
822 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 tury, the traditions concerning whom are related in the story, and who 
 is described as a solitary, frequenting country church-yards, and the 
 graves of the Covenanters, in the south of Scotland, and whose occu- 
 pation consisted in clearing the moss from tlie gray tombstones, re- 
 newing with his chisel the half-defaced inscriptions, and repairing the 
 emblems of death Avith which the monuments were adorned. 
 
 * Pla' to, an illustrious Grecian philosopher, who taught the immortality 
 of the soul and the beauty of goodness, was born at Athens 429 years 
 before Christ, and died in his 80th year. He was the disciple of Soc- 
 rates. His system of philosophy is known as the Platonic. 
 
 ' Ad' di SOX, Joseph, one of the most elegant writers in English literature, 
 was born in 1672, and died in 1719. 
 
 THE DESIRE OF REPUTATION. 
 
 REV. ALBERT BARNES. 
 
 THE desire of an honored name exists in all. It is an 
 original principle in every mind, and lives often when 
 every other generous principle has been obliterated. It is 
 the wish to be Jcnoivn and respected hy others, : — to extend 
 the hiowledge of our existence beyond our individual con- 
 sciousness of being, — to be remembered^ at least, for a lit- 
 tle while after we are dead. J^ext to the dread of annihi- 
 lation, we dread the immediate extinction of our names 
 when we die. We would not have the earth at once made 
 level over our graves ; we would not have the spot where 
 we sleep at once forgotten ; we Avould not have the last 
 traces of our existence at once obliterated from the memo- 
 ry of the living world. 
 
 2. We need not go into an argument to prove that this 
 desire exists in the human soul. Any one has only to look 
 into his own heart to find it always there in living power, 
 and in controlling influence. We need not ask you to cast 
 your eyes upon the pages of history to see the proofs, that 
 the desire has found a home in the heart of man. We 
 need not point you to the distinguished heroes, orators, and 
 poets of the past or modern times j nor need we attempt 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. . 323 
 
 to trace its operations in animating to deeds of noble dar- 
 ing, or its influence on the beautiful productions of art. 
 
 3. Milton^ was warmed by the same generous emotion, 
 and the same conviction that he would be remembered, 
 and felt that there dwelt within him the innate power of 
 rearing a monument which would convey his name to latest 
 times, when lie uttered this sentiment: — " I began to as- 
 sent to my friends here at home, and not less to an inward 
 prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labor 
 and intense study, (which I take to be my portion in this 
 life,) joined with the strongest propensity of nature, I 
 might, perhaps, leave something so written to after times, 
 as they should not willingly let it die." Klopstock,^ in 
 one of his best odes, has described the instinctive desire of 
 future reputation^ and of living in the memory of posteri- 
 ty, when founded on a virtuous principle. 
 
 4. " Sweet are the thrills the silver voice of Fame 
 
 Triumphant through the bounding bosom darts 1 
 And immortality ! how proud an aim ! 
 
 What noble toil to spur the noblest hearts I 
 My charm of song to live through future time. 
 
 To hear, still spurning death's invidious stroke. 
 Enraptured choirs rehearse one's name sublime, 
 
 E'en from the mansions of the grave invoke : 
 Within the tender heart e'en then to rear 
 
 Thee, Love ! thee. Virtue ! fairest growth of Heaven ! 
 Oh, this, indeed, is worthy men's career ; 
 
 This is the toil to noblest spirits given ! " 
 
 5. The desire of a grateful remembrance when w^e are 
 dead, lives in every human bosom. The earth is full of 
 the memorials which have been erected as the effect of that 
 desire ; and though thousands of the monuments that had 
 
324 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 been reared by anxious care and toil, by deeds of valor on 
 the battle-field, or by early efforts at distinction in the fo- 
 rum, have perished, still we can not traverse a land where 
 the indications of this deep-rooted desire do not meet us 
 on every side. The once lofty column, now broken and 
 decaying ; the marble, from which the name has been ob- 
 literated by time ; the splendid mausoleum, standing over 
 remains long since forgotten ; and" the lofty pyramid — 
 though the name of its builder is no lono;er known — each 
 one shows how deeply this desire once fixed itself in some 
 human heart. 
 
 6. Every work of art, every temple and statue, every 
 book on which we carelessly cast the eye as we pass along 
 the alcoves of a great library, is probably a monument of 
 this desire to he remembered when life is gone. Every rose 
 or honeysuckle that we plant over the grave of a friend, 
 is but a response to the desire not to be forgotten, which 
 once warmed the cold heart beneath. And who would be 
 willing to be forgotten ? Who could endure the thought, 
 that, when he is committed to the earth, no tear would ever 
 fall on his 2:rave ; no thouo;ht of a friend ever be directed 
 to his' tomb ; and that the traveler would n^iver be told 
 who is the sleeper there ? 
 
 7. To this universal desire in the bosom of man to be 
 remembered when he is dead, the living world is not reluc- 
 tant to respond ; for everywhere it manifests such tokens 
 of respect as it deems best suited to perpetuate the mem- 
 ory of the departed. Affection, therefore, goes forth and 
 plants the rose on the grave ; rears the marble, molded 
 into breathing forms, over the dust ; like Old Mortality,^ 
 cuts the letters deeper when the storms of time efface 
 them ; and hands down in verse and song the names of 
 those who have deserved well of mankind. 
 
UNIOK FIFTH READER. 325 
 
 8. " Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause 
 Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, 
 Receive proud recompense. We give in charge 
 Their names to the sweet lyre. The Historic Muse, 
 Proud of the treasure, marches with it down 
 
 To latest times ; and Sculpture, in her turn. 
 Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass. 
 To guard them, and to immortalize her trust. 
 But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, 
 To those who, posted at the shrine of Truth, 
 Have fallen in her defense." 
 
 9. Why is this passion implanted in the human bosom ? 
 Why is it so universal ? Why is it seen in so many forms *<* 
 We answer, — It is one of the proofs of mail's immortali- 
 ty^ — the strong, instinctive, universal desire to live, and 
 live forever. It is tliat to which philosophers have ap- 
 pealed, in the lack of better evidence, to sustain the hope 
 that man would survive the tomb. It is the argument on 
 which Plato'* rested to sustain his soul in the darkness 
 which enveloped him, and which has been put into the 
 mouth of every school-boy, in the language of Addison'^ : — 
 
 10. " Whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 
 This longing after immortality ? 
 
 Or whence this secret dread and inward horror 
 Of fidling into naught ? 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." 
 
 11. And wliile this desire lingers in the human soul, 
 as it always will, man can not forget that he is immortal ; 
 and it will be vain to attempt to satisfy him that he wholly 
 
326 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ceases to be when the body dies. He will not, he can not, 
 believe it. He would not always sleep. He would not 
 always be forgotten. He would live again, — live on in 
 the memory of his fellow-man, as long as the flowers can 
 be made to bloom, or the marble to perpetuate his name ; 
 and then still live on when " seas shall waste, and skies in 
 smoke decay." 
 
 ■♦- 
 
 LESSON C. 
 
 VANITY OF EARTHLY FAME. 
 
 HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 
 
 1. Oh, how weak 
 Is mortal man ! how trifling ! how confined 
 His scope of vision ! Pufled 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 Ms centuries 
 Are, in comparison, a httle point 
 Too trivial for account ! 
 
 2. Oh, 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, 
 Yea, at his very feet, the crumbling dust 
 
 Of the fallen fabric of the other day 
 Preaches the solemn lesson ! 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 327 
 
 He should know 
 That Time must conquer ; that the loudest blast 
 That ever filled Renown's obstreperous trump 
 Fades in the lapse of ages, and expires. 
 Who lies inhumed in the terrific gloom 
 Of the gigantic pyramid ? or who 
 Reared its huge walls ? Oblivion laughs, and says, 
 " The prey is mine ! They sleep, and never more 
 Their names shall strike upon the ear of man ! " 
 
 WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. 
 
 What is glory ? What is fame ? 
 The echo of a long-lost name ; 
 A breath ; an idle hour's brief talk ; 
 The shadow of an arrant naught ; 
 A flower that blossoms for a day, 
 
 Dying next morrow ; 
 A stream that hurries on its way, 
 
 Sino-ing of sorrow ; 
 The last drop of a bootless shower, 
 Shed on a sear and leafless bower ; 
 A rose stuck in a dead man's breast, — 
 This is the Avorld's fame at the best ! 
 
 What is fame ? and what is glory ? 
 A dream ; a jester's lying story, 
 To tickle fools withal, or be 
 A theme for second infancy ; 
 A joke scrawled on an epitaph ; 
 A grin at Death's own ghastly laugh ; 
 A visioning that tempts the eye, 
 But mocks the touch — nonentity ; 
 
328 SANDERS' UKION SERIES. 
 
 A rainbow, substanceless as bright, 
 Flittinor forever 
 
 o 
 
 O'er hill-top to more distant hight, 
 
 Nearing us never ; 
 A bubble blown by fond conceit, 
 In very sooth itself to cheat ; 
 The witch-fire of a frenzied brain ; 
 A fortune that to lose were gain ; 
 A word of praise, perchance of blame ; 
 The wreck of a time-bandied name, — 
 Ay, this is glory ! — this is fame ! 
 
 LESSON" CT. 
 
 ^ Co rin' thi an, pertaining to the Corinthian order of architecture, — 
 characterized by a profusion of ornamentation. 
 
 "THIS, TOO, MUST PASS AWAY." 
 
 MRS. E. C. HOWARTH. 
 
 An old baron gave a grand banquet. In the midst of the festivities, he 
 requested the seer to write some inscription on the wall in memory of the 
 occasion. The seer wrote, — "This, too, must pass auxty." 
 
 ONCE in a banquet-hall, 
 'Mid mir 
 
 mirth and music, wine and garlands gay, 
 These words were written on the garnished wall, — 
 
 " This, too, must pass away." 
 And eyes that sparkled when the wine was poured 
 'Mid song and jest, and merry minstrel lay. 
 Turned sad and thoughtful from the festive board 
 To read, 'mid pendent banner, lyre, and sword, — 
 
 ''T7«8, too^ must pass away.'''' 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 329 
 
 And where are they to-night, — 
 The gay retainers of that festive hall ? 
 Like blooming rose, like waxen taper's light, 
 
 They have departed all. 
 Long since the banners crumbled into dust, 
 The proud Corinthian ^ pillars met decay. 
 The lyre is broken, and the sword is rust ; 
 The kingly bards who sang of love and trust — 
 
 They^ too^ have passed away. 
 
 Yet Genius seeks the crown, 
 And Art builds stately homes for wealth and pride, 
 And Love beside the household shrine kneels down. 
 
 And Dust is deified : 
 Yet, 'midst our loves, ambitions, pleasures, all. 
 The spirit struggles ever with the clay : 
 On every ear a warning voice will fall, 
 Each eye beholds the writing on the wall, — 
 
 '''This, too, must pass awayJ^^ 
 
 LESSON OIL 
 GOD, THE TRUE OBJECT OF CONFIDENCE. 
 
 GREENWOOD. 
 
 ¥E receive such repeated intimations of decay in the 
 world, — decline, change, and loss follow in such rapid 
 succession, — that we can almost catch the sound of universal 
 wasting, and hear the work of desolation going on busily 
 around us. " The mountain falling cometh to naught, and 
 the rock is removed out of his place. The waters wear 
 the 'Atones. Thou washest away the thing«^ which grow 
 
330 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 out of the dust of the earth, and Thou destroy est the hope 
 of man.* 
 
 2. Conscious of our own instabihty, we look about for 
 something on which to rest, but we look in vain. The 
 heavens and the earth had a beginning, and they will have 
 an end. The face of the world is changing daily and 
 hourly. All animated things grow old, and die. The 
 rocks crumble, — the trees fall, — the leaves fade, — the 
 grass withers. The clouds are flying, and the waters are 
 flowing away from us. 
 
 " 8. The firmest works of man, too, are gradually giving 
 way. The ivy clings to the moldering tower, — the brier 
 hangs out from the shattered window, — and the wall-flow- 
 er springs from the disjointed stones. In the spacious 
 domes which once held our fathers, the serpent hisses, 
 and the wild bird screams. The halls which were once 
 crowded with all that taste, and science, and labor could 
 procure, — Avhich resounded Avith melody, and Avere lighted 
 up with beauty, — are buried by their own ruins, — mocked 
 by their own desolation. The voice of merriment or of 
 wailing, — the steps of the busy or the idle, — have ceased 
 in the deserted courts. 
 
 4. While we thus walk among the ruins of the past, a 
 sad feeling of insecurity comes over us ; and that feeling 
 is by no means diminished when we arrive at home. If 
 we turn to our friends, we can hardly speak to them, before 
 they bid us farewell. We see them for a few moments ; 
 and, in a few moments more, their countenances are 
 changed, and they are sent away. The ties which bind 
 us together, are never too close to be parted, or too strong 
 to be broken. We gain no confidence, then, no feeling of 
 
 * Job, 14th chap., 18th and 19th verses. 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. ' 331 
 
 security, by turning to our contemporaries and kindred. 
 We know that the forms that are breathing around us, are 
 as short-hved and fleeting as those were which have been 
 dust for centuries. 
 
 5. If every thing which comes under our notice has en- 
 dured for so short a time, and in so short a time will be no 
 more, we can not say that we receive the least assurance 
 by thinking on ourselves. When a few more friends have 
 left, a few more hopes deceived, and a few more changes 
 mocked us, " we shall be brought to the grave, and shall 
 remain In the tomb. The clods of the valley shall be 
 sweet unto us." 
 
 6. When we ourselves have gone, even the remembrance 
 of us will not long remain. A few of the near and dear 
 will bear our likenesses in their bosoms, till they, too, have 
 arrived at the end of their journey, and entered the dark 
 dwellino; of unconsciousness. In the thouo;hts of others, we 
 shall live only till the last sound of the bell, which informs 
 them of our departure, has ceased to vibrate In tlieir ears. 
 
 7. A stone, perhaps, may tell some wanderer where we 
 lie, — when we came here, — when we went away ; but 
 even that will soon refuse to bear us record. Time's 
 *' effacing fingers " will be busy on its surface, and will, at 
 length, wear it smooth. The stone itself will sink, or crum- 
 ble ; and the wanderer of another age will pass, without a 
 single call upon his sympathy, over our unheeded graves. 
 
 8. Is there nothing to counteract the sinking of the 
 heart, which must be the effect of observations like these'? 
 Is there no substance among all these shadows'? Can 
 no support be offered, — can no source of confidence be 
 named' ? Yes^ ! There Is a Being, to whom we can look 
 with a perfect conviction of finding that security which 
 nothing about us can give, — nothing can take away. To 
 
332 ' SANDEES' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 this Being we can lift up our souls, and on Him we may 
 rest them, exclaiming in the language of the monarch of 
 Israel, — 
 
 " Before the mountains were brought forth, 
 Or ever Tliou hadst formed the earth and the world, 
 Even from everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God." 
 
 9. " Of old hast Thou laid the foundations of the earth ; 
 And the heavens are the work of Thj hands. 
 They shall perish, but Thou shalt endure ; 
 Yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment ; 
 As a vesture shalt Thou change them, and thej shall 
 
 be changed ; 
 But Thou art the same, and Thj years shall have no 
 end." * 
 Here^ then, is a support which will never fail. Here is 
 a foundation which can never be moved, — the everlastinor 
 Creator of countless worlds, — 
 
 " The high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity." 
 
 10. When we have looked on the pleasures of life, and 
 they have vanished away ; when we have looked on the 
 works of Nature, and perceived that they were changing ; 
 on the monuments of Art, and seen that they would not 
 stand ; on our friends, and they have fled while we were 
 gazing ; on ourselves, and felt that we were as fleeting as 
 they, — we can look to the throne of God. Change and 
 decay have never reached that. The waves of an eternity 
 have been rushing past it, but it has remained unshaken. 
 The waves of another eternity are rushing toward it, but 
 it is fixed, and can never be disturbed. 
 
 11. We shall shortly finish our allotted time on earth, 
 and a world of other days and other men will be entirely 
 
 it 90th Ps., 2d verse ; and 102d Ps., 25th, 26th, and 27th verses. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 833 
 
 ignorant that once we lived. But the same unalterable 
 Being will still preside over the universe, through all its 
 changes, and from His remembrance we shall never be 
 blotted. He is our Father and our God forever. He 
 takes us from earth that He may lead us to Heaven, — 
 that He may refine our nature from all its principles of 
 corruption, — share with us His own immortality, admit us 
 to His everlasting habitation, and crown us with His eter- 
 nity. 
 
 LESSON CIII. 
 
 * Col OS se' um, the amphitheater of Vespasian in Rome, the largest in the 
 
 world. 
 
 ^ O lym'pus, or Olympia, a town in Greece, celebrated for the Olympic 
 games that took place there once in four years, and continuing five days. 
 
 ^ Sin' YL, (in Pagan antiquity,) a woman supposed to be endowed with a 
 spirit of propliecy, and who wrote books of prophecies, in verse, sup- 
 posed to contain the fate of the Roman Empire. 
 
 * Mil' ton. See note, page 107. 
 
 ^ Shak' speare. See note, page 106. 
 
 INSPIRATION OF LIVING GENIUS. 
 
 MRS. E. OAKES SMITH. 
 
 " AF making many books, there is no end," * exclaims 
 \J the wise man, foreseeing the accumulation of words 
 in the coming ages, at the expense of ideas. That indi- 
 viduals think less, and achieve less, now that books are 
 multiplied to such an extraordinary degree, must be mani- 
 fest to the dullest observer. Men expend their lives in 
 reading what has been said by others, and thus neglect 
 their own resources. They pore over obsolete ideas ; 
 they garner the treasury of familiar expression ; and in 
 tlie meanwhile opportunity escapes, time rolls onward, and 
 they themselves add nothing to the munificence of thought. 
 
 * Eccl., 12th chap., 12th verse. 
 
334 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. Were it otlierwise, were books less abundant, did 
 libraries teem less with the culture of the ages, men would 
 be compelled to delve into the mine of their own genius^ and 
 each age would present us with its poets, its heroes, and 
 philosophers. We should have, not book-worms, but the 
 inspirations of Uving genius^ — not imitators and plagiarists, 
 such as abound in our time, but revelations, and utterances 
 to electrify the nations. We have a host of scholars, and 
 onlj now and then a man of original experience. We 
 reproduce the old in diluted forms ; whereas, were we 
 deprived of these models, we might do something in our 
 own rio-ht. 
 
 3. Our literature is full of artists, but poor in genius. 
 It is easy to reconstruct — difficult to originate. For ages 
 the Colosseum ^ has been the great quarry whence mod- 
 ern Rome has been built, and yet it stands magnificent 
 and inspiring in its devastation and decay. The age that 
 conceived the Colosseum, will no more appear. We re- 
 produce the ancients, — bvit only in poorer forms, and 
 upon a more limited scale. 
 
 4. Once nations poured themselves upon the arena of 
 Greece to compete at the games of Olympus.^ The crash 
 of chariot-wheels thundered along the way, where the 
 racer bent his forces intent iipon the goal, and horsemen 
 vaulted from back to back, as his flying steeds, four abreast, 
 filled the air with animation. In our day we revive the 
 Olympic reminiscence in the lecture-room of the Lyceum, 
 and the bombast of the stump-orator. The gladiator is the 
 modern pugilist, and for the charioteer and daring horse- 
 man is the tent-covered arena of the modern circus. 
 
 5. We are loss heroic altogether. We make life a fact, 
 not an inspiration. What will come of it ? Where will 
 it end ? Is there no great idea to be revealed, which shall 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 335 
 
 refresh and enlarge our humanity'' ? Assuredly there is. 
 Let us wait and listen. Poets and artists have too many 
 aids ; and therefore they copy each other, instead of going* 
 forth to look into the heart of Nature. The wise man or 
 woman will write out inspirations, and cast them like the 
 leaves of the Sibyl. ^ If the world needs them, they will 
 be gathered ; if not, they should feel no pang, as they 
 eddy, like dry leaves, at the will of the inconstant blast. 
 
 6. There is no absolute necessity that any one should 
 win fame : there is no fame worth the winning except 
 that illustrative of the religious faith of the people ; no 
 ideas are perpetual but those of the religious. Take out 
 of the world Milton,^ Shakspeare,^ and the Bible, and 
 chaos would come again ; leave us the Bible, Milton, and 
 Shakspeare, and we have little need of libraries. 
 
 7. Science will take care of itself; facts are perpetual. 
 Those that are needful to us, will be kept ahve ; and others, 
 which are incomplete links to the perfect chain, may as 
 well die. There is no doubt a lazy pleasure in sitting in 
 one's library, and reading the thoughts which inspired 
 the hearts of heroes and sages in the past ages ; but the 
 thought that may be made vital and effective in the pres- 
 ent, is better, to the true, earnest man or woman. 
 
 8. Let the good thing but be said, and it matters not by 
 whom it is uttered. If the author be truly large and 
 original, the world will not forget him. Nature is chary 
 of her gems : she hides the diamond in the deepest caves ; 
 but once brought forth to the light, its rays are choicely 
 garnered, and its record kept as persistently as the crown 
 of a king's head. The harp and the lute may fade away 
 adown sweet-scented valleys and vine-clad hills ; but the 
 trumpet awakens the wilderness to action, and lends a 
 voice to the everlastins; hills. 
 
336 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON CIY. 
 
 * John' son, Samuel, the celebrated English lexicographer, was bom at 
 Licthfield, England, 1 709 ; and died 1 784. He was educated at Oxford, 
 and became one of the most prominent characters in English literary 
 history. A large portion of his writings appeared in the " Gentleman's 
 Magazine," " The Rambler," and " The Idler." His Life by Boswell 
 contains a curious collection of sayings, that are held to convey a more 
 favorable impression of his real strength, both in thought and language, 
 than any thing in the works which he wrote or published. 
 
 GENIUS AND ORIGINALITY. 
 
 REV. DR. G. W. EATON. 
 
 MY philosophy teaches me that what is called genius, is 
 an extraordinary development of a single faculty , or 
 set of faculties ; and is in many, perhaps in most cases, an 
 evidence of disease or distortion in mental constitution ; 
 and, therefore, something neither to be envied nor desired. 
 Genius ! — who wants more genius than he possesses in a 
 mind of immortal and ever-growing capacities ? Let him 
 stir up his powers, and set them energetically to work. It 
 is tJiis that marks a man as original and peculiar among his 
 fellow-men. 
 
 2. It is not that he possesses faculties which others have 
 not, and tendencies which do not belong to common hu- 
 manity ; but he has waked up Ms immortal energies, and 
 they live, and intensely act within him ; and his whole 
 intellectual and moral nature stands out in bold and glow- 
 ing relief. He may be called original and eccentric, and 
 " a genius," and be looked upon as something out of thvi 
 ordinary course of nature ; but all his originality and eccen- 
 tricity may be owing to the fact that he does his own 
 thinkincr. 
 
 3. He forms his own opinions, and therefore they must 
 be cast, whatever the material may be, in the pecuhar 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 337 
 
 mold of liis own mind, and partake of all the peculiarities 
 of that moldc If there was more deep and original think- 
 ing, there would be a greater number of real geniuses, of 
 original and eccentric characters ; or rather eccentricity 
 would be seen to be a natural movement. It is this process 
 wliicli makes " originals." We all might be original and 
 peculiar, if we would take the pains to improve to the 
 utmost the powers oiu' Creator has given us. 
 
 4. Trust not, then, to an imaginary phantom to breathe 
 inspiration into your sluggish spirits, nor wait for the auspi- 
 cious moment, when some pitying Muse, invoked from a 
 distant sphere, shall descend and infuse life into your torpid 
 faculties, and kindle up the " glow of composition." If 
 you have an exercise in composition to prepare, act upon 
 the advice of the sage Dr. Johnson,^ — '' Sit down doggedly 
 to tlie work." I know of no certain way to bring on the 
 "glow of composition," (which is indeed a most desirable 
 state,) but by the intense friction of great truths with our 
 faculties. 
 
 5. This will soon kindle up an internal fire that will 
 send a warmth and glow through the entire system. It is 
 this friction which causes the strange transitions in the 
 mind, of which we have spoken. When we first address 
 ourselves to the examination of a difficult subject, all may 
 be dark as midnight, and we have no power to do any 
 thing with it. But by holding it steadily before the mind, 
 pressing the faculties up to it,- and keeping up the friction, 
 by and by a sort of electric power is generated, which 
 emits blazing illuminations, dispelling the darkness, and 
 elances a lightning energy, splitting into ribbdns the gnarled 
 and refractory subject. 
 
 6. Now the toil is over. Henceforth all is enthusiastic 
 play. The mind moves with freedom and majesty. " The 
 
 15 
 
338 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 hidings of its power" are disclosed. Bright and glorious 
 thoughts come thronging round, attended by words, their 
 obedient '' servitors," all ready to robe them in appropriate 
 attire. But how few ever attain to this state of mental 
 elevation and power ! And why ? They give over too 
 soon. The process is discontinued before the result is 
 reached. 
 
 LESSON CY. 
 
 HURRYING ON. 
 
 1. " Hurrying on, hurrying on ! " 
 
 Says a Voice that speaks from the works of God ; 
 
 And the rolHng Spheres, as they flame along 
 O'er the glorious path of the great untrod, 
 
 Take up the sound, and the strain prolong ; 
 
 Nor cease they from chanting the nightly song,- 
 " We are harrying on, hurrying on.''^ 
 
 2. " Hurrying on, hurrying on I " 
 Says the voice of Time ; and his stealthy feet 
 
 Are crossing the threshold, unhid, unseen, 
 And urging us on at each pulse's beat, 
 
 From the past to the future : the pause between 
 Is the fleetinor now — the feverish dream 
 Of the life that is hurrying on. 
 
 3. " Hurrying on, hurrying on ! " 
 The busy throng of the city and town, 
 
 The peaceful tiller of rural glade. 
 The warrior thirsting for bloody renown. 
 
 The prince and the beggar, however arrayed, 
 Together approaching the solemn shade, 
 Are hurrying on^ hurrying on. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 339 
 
 " Hurrying on, hurrying on ! " 
 Tlie myriads that walk on this busy stage, 
 
 With youth's gay trip, with man's firm tread, 
 And the trembhng step of hoary age, 
 In untroubled sleep to lay their head 
 With the ghostly tribes, the slumbering dead, 
 Are hurrying on, hurrying on. 
 
 LESSON CYI. 
 THE PEOPLE'S ADVENT. 
 
 GERALD MASSEY. 
 
 This piece should be read in a bold, spirited manner ; and an excellcnr 
 effect will be produced by having the last line of each stanza read by ui^ 
 whole class in concert, as indicated. 
 
 1. 'rpiS coming up the steep of Time, 
 
 _L And this old w^orld is growing brighter : 
 We may not see its dawn sublime, 
 
 Yet high hopes make the heart throb lighter. 
 We may be sleeping 'neath the ground 
 
 When it awakes the world in wonder, 
 But we have felt it gathering round. 
 
 And heard its voice of living thunder, — 
 (^Wliole classy 'Tis coming ! yes^ 'tis coming! 
 
 2. 'Tis coming now, the glorious time 
 
 Foretold by seers, and sung in story, 
 For which, when thinking was a crime. 
 
 Souls leaped to Heaven from scaffolds gory ! 
 They passed, nor saw the work they wrought. 
 
 Nor the crowned hopes of centuries blossom ; 
 But the live lightning of their thought, 
 
340 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And daring deeds, doth pulse earth's bosom, - 
 ( Whole class) ' Tis coming ! yes, His coming ! 
 
 3. Creeds, Systems, Empires, rot with age; 
 
 But the great People's ever youthful ; 
 And it shall write the Future's page 
 
 To our humanity more truthful. 
 The gnarlish heart hath tender chords 
 
 To waken at the name of " Brother : " 
 The time will come, when scorpion words 
 
 We shall not speak to sting each other, — 
 ( Whole class) ' Tis coming ! yes, His coming ! 
 
 4. Out of the hVht, old Past ! nor flino; 
 
 Your dark, cold shadows on us longer ! 
 Aside ! thou effete thino; called Kinoj : 
 
 The People's step is quicker, stronger. 
 There's a divinity within 
 
 That makes men great whene'er they will it : 
 God works with all who dare to win, 
 
 And the time cometh to reveal it, — 
 ( Whole class) ' Tis coming ! yes, His coming ! 
 
 5. Ay, it must come ! The tyrant's throne 
 
 Is crumbling, with our hot tears rusted ; 
 The sword earth's mighty have leaned on 
 
 Is cankered, with our hearts' blood crusted. 
 Room ! for the Men of Mind make way I 
 
 Ye robber-rulers, pause no longer ; 
 Ye can not stop the opening day ; 
 
 The world rolls on, the light grows stronger, - 
 (JWhole class) The People's Advenfjs coming/ 
 
UNION FIFTH llEADEE. 341 
 
 LESSON CVII. 
 
 * Man hat' tans, native Indians who inhabited the Island of Manhattan, 
 on which the city of New York is now situated. 
 
 DISCOVERY OF MANHATTAN. 
 
 MARY L. BOOTH. 
 
 N the second day of September, 1609, Henry Hudson, 
 
 
 
 on board a small yacht called " The Half Moon," manned 
 by a crew of twenty men, came in sight of the Highlands 
 of Neversink, which he describes as " a pleasant land to 
 see." Here he remained all night, and, setting sail the 
 next morning, came to what he represents as " three great 
 rivers," — the northernmost of which he attempted to en- 
 ter, but was prevented by the shoal bar before it. This 
 was probably Rockaway Inlet ; the others, the llaritan, 
 and the Narrows. Foiled in this attempt, he rounded 
 Sandy Hook, sending a boat before him to sound the way, 
 and anchored his vessel in the lower bay. They landed 
 at Cony Island, and were the first white men that ever set 
 foot on the soil of the Empire State, 
 
 2. Enraptured with the beautiful scenery before him, he 
 determined to explore this strange, new country, which 
 was worth more than all the wealth of the Indies. The 
 shores were covered with gigantic oaks from sixty to sev- 
 enty feet high, the hills beyond were crowned with grass 
 and fragrant flowers, strange wild birds were flitting in 
 the air, and the fish were darting through the sparklino 
 waters. Friendly Indians, dressed in mantles of feathen 
 and fine furs, and decorated with copper ornaments, flocked 
 on board the vessel, bringing corn, tobacco, and vegetablea 
 for the mysterious strangers. Hudson received them kind- 
 ly, and gave them axes, knives, shoes, and stockings m 
 
342 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 return. But these articles were all new to them, and they 
 put them to a new use : they hung the axes and shoes 
 about their necks for ornaments, and used the stockings 
 for tobacco-pouches. 
 
 3. Hudson remained in the lower bay for a week, send- 
 ing a boat's crew, in the mean time, to sound the river. 
 Tliey passed the Narrows, entered the bay, and came in 
 sight of the grassy hills of Manhattan. Passing through 
 the Kills, between Staten Island and Bergen Neck, they 
 proceeded six miles up the river, and discovered Newark 
 Bay. On tlieir return, the boat was attacked by the na- 
 tives. An EngHsh sailor, named John Colman, was 
 struck in the neck by an arrow, and killed ; two others 
 were sliglitly wounded ; and the rest escaped tQ the ship 
 with the dead body of their companion, to carry the tid- 
 ings of the mournful catastrophe. 
 
 4. This was the first white man's blood ever shed in tlie 
 territory ; and it is probable, though not certain, that the 
 sailors themselves were the first aggressors. Colman was 
 an old comrade of Hudson : he had been the companion 
 of his earner voyages, and his death inspired him with dis- 
 trust and hatred of the natives, whom, before, he had re- 
 garded with favor. On the following day, the 9th of Se]> 
 tember, the first white man's grave in these regions was 
 dug on Sandy Hook ; and the spot was called Colman's 
 Point, in memory of the departed. 
 
 5. On the 11th of September, " The Half Moon " passed 
 througli the Narrows, and anchored in New-York Bay. 
 Distrusting the fierce Manhattans,^ the captain remained 
 but a single day. Canoes, filled with men, women, and 
 children, flocked around the ship, bringing oysters and 
 vegetables ; but, though these were j)urchased, not a native 
 was suffered to come on board. The next day, Hudson 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 343 
 
 made his way up the river wliich now bears his name, and 
 through which he hoped to find the long-sought passage to 
 the Indies.* Slowly sailing up the river, and anchoring 
 at niglit in the friendly harbors so plentifully scattered 
 along his way, Hudson pursued his course toward the head 
 of ship-navigation, admiring the ever-changing panorama 
 of the beautiful river, with its lofty palisades, its broad 
 bays, its picturesque bends, its romantic highlands, and its 
 rocky shores covered wath luxuriant forests. 
 
 6. Everywhere he was greeted with friendly reception. 
 Tlie river Indians, more gentle than those of the Island 
 Manhattan, welcomed the strangers with offerings of the 
 best the land aiforded, and urged them to remain with 
 tliem. Fancvinor that the white men were afraid of their 
 arrows, the Indians broke them in pieces, and threw them 
 into the fire. Game was killed for their use, hospitalities 
 were urged upon them, and every attention which a rude 
 but generous nature could prompt w^as offered to the 
 strangers. Indeed, this seems in the beginning to have 
 been the usual conduct of the natives ; and it is probable 
 that in their future hostilities, in nearly every instance, the 
 whites were the aggressors. 
 
 7. On the 19th of September, Hudson reached the site 
 of the present city of Albany, which, greatly to his disap- 
 pointment, he found to be the head of navigation. To be 
 sure of the fact, he dispatched the mate with a boat's crew 
 to sound tlie river higher up ; but after proceeding eight 
 or nine leagues, finding but seven feet of water, they were 
 forced to return with the unwelcome intelligence. After 
 
 * In 1607, a company of English merchants fitted out a ship, and in- 
 trusted it to the command of Henry Hudson, with instructions to search 
 for a passage through the Polar seas to China and Japan. In this, however, 
 he was unsuccessful; and in 1609 he renewed the search in the service of 
 the Dutch. 
 
344 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 remaining at anchor for several days, during which time 
 he continued to liold friendly intercourse with the natives, 
 'Hudson prepared to descend the river. 
 
 8. His stay here was marked by a revel, the tradition 
 of which is still preserved* among the Indian legends, and 
 the scene of which is laid by some historians upon the 
 Island of Manhattan. Various legends of a similar im- 
 port, concerning the introduction of the fatal " fire-water," 
 are in existence among the different tribes of Indians : 
 everywhere the same causes produced the same results, 
 and the multiplicity of the traditions may be easily 
 accounted for. 
 
 9. On the 23d of September, Hudson commenced to 
 descend the river. He ascended in eleven days; he de- 
 scended it in the same time, constantly receiving demon- 
 strations of friendship from the natives of the neighboring 
 shores. But unfortunately this harmony was soon destined 
 to be broken. While anchored at Stony Point, an Indian 
 was detected pilfering some goods through the cabin win- 
 dows. The offender was instantly shot by the mate, and 
 the frightened natives fled in consternation. 
 
 10. Nor was this the only rupture of peaceful relations 
 with the hitherto friendly natives. Following the example 
 of other discoverers, who were accustomed to carry to 
 their own homes specimens of the natives of the new coun- 
 tries which they had visited, Hudson had seized and de- 
 tained, two Indians on board his ship at Sandy Hook, both 
 of whom had escaped during his passage up the river, and 
 were lying in wait for his return, to avenge their captivity, 
 
 11. Their narrative had enlisted the sympathies of their 
 countrymen, and a large body gathered in their canoes at 
 the head of Manhattan Island, and attempted to board the 
 vessel. Repulsed in their attempt, they discharged a harm^ 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 34 i 
 
 less flight of arrows at the yacht, which were returned by 
 a musket-shot, which killed two of their number. They 
 scattered in dismay only to gather again, re-enforced by 
 several hundreds, at Fort Washington, where they again 
 attacked the vessel as she was floating down the stream. 
 A few musket-shots soon put them to flight, with the loss 
 of nine of their warriors. 
 
 12. This strange, new weapon of the white men, speak- 
 ing in tones of thunder, and belching forth fire and smoke, 
 was more terrible to them than an army of invaders. 
 They did not return to the attack, and Hudson pursued 
 his way unmolested to the bay near Hoboken, where he 
 anchored for the last time, and, lying windbound there for 
 one day, set sail for Europe on the 4th of October, one 
 month after his arrival, to carry to his patrons the news of 
 the discovery of a new country, and the opening of a new 
 commerce. 
 
 LESSON CYIII. 
 
 * Phil' IP of Macedon, who was raised to the supremacy over all Greece, 
 Avas born 383 B.C. Athens and Thebes had reached their highest vigor 
 when Philip came to the throne. He soon possessed himself of Am- 
 phipolis, which gave him access to the gold-mines of Mount Pangsens; 
 which became a source of immense revenue to him, and the reason of 
 his founding the town of Philippi. He marched into Thessaly at the 
 head of twenty thousand men. The terror of his name provoked the 
 " Philippics " of Demosthenes, who endeavored to rouse the people of 
 Athens to form a general league against him ; but they were cajoled or 
 bribed by Philip into a shameful peace, and he marched into Greece, 
 and was acknowledged the chief of the whole Hellenic Avorld. He was 
 murdered at the instigation of Olyrapias, while engaged at a religious 
 festival, 336 years B.C. 
 
 ^ Frank' ltn. See note, page 14.5. 
 
 ' Gal va' ni Luigi, a distinguished physician and philologist, was born at 
 Bologna, 1737; and died 1798. His name has become a household 
 
346 SAKDEES' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 word from liis great discovery of galvanism. The story, as told, is as 
 follows ; — The physician had been pi'eparing some frog-soup for his 
 sick wife, and some of these animals were lying stripped of their skins. 
 An assistant had accidentally touclied the crural nerve of one of the- 
 animals with the point of a scalpel, in the neighborhood of a conductor 
 of an electrical machine, when the limbs were immediately thrown into 
 convulsions. Galvani supposed that the cause of this was, as he called 
 it, " animal electricity ; " but Volta and others corrected the error, nnc' 
 showed that it was due to chemical electricity, or Galvanism. 
 
 CHOICE EXTRACTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 PERSONAL RELIGION. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 POLITICAL eminence and professional fame fade away 
 and die with all things eartlily. Nothing of charac- 
 ter is really permanent but virtue and personal worth. 
 These remain. Whatever of excellence is wrought into 
 the soul itself, belongs to both worlds. Real goodness 
 does not attach itself merely to this life ; it points to 
 another world. Political or professional reputation can 
 not last forever ; but a conscience void of offense toward 
 God and man is an inheritance for eternity. 
 
 2. Religion, tlierefore, is a necessary and indispensable 
 clement in any great human character. There is no liv- 
 ins: witliout it. Relio-ion is the tie that connects man Avith 
 his Creator, and holds him to His throne. If that tie be 
 all sundered, all broken, he floats away, a worthless atom 
 in the universe, its proper attractions all gone, its destiny 
 thwarted, and its whole future nothing but darkness, deso- 
 lation, and death. A man with no sense of religious duty 
 is he Avhom the Scriptures describe, in such terse but ter- 
 rific lanmiao-e, as livinix *' without God in the world.*' 
 Such a man is out of his proper being, — out of the circle 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 347 
 
 o^ all his duties, and out of the circle of all his happiness, 
 and awaj, far,/ar away, from the purposes of his creation. 
 
 II. 
 THE BEAM OF DEVOTION, 
 
 GEOKGK P. MORRIS. 
 
 1. I NEVER could find a good reason 
 
 Why sorrow unbidden should stay, 
 And all the bright joys of life's season 
 
 Be driven unheeded away. 
 Our cares would wake no more emotion, 
 
 Were we to our lot but resigned, 
 Than pebbles flung into the ocean. 
 
 That leave scarce a ripple behind. 
 
 2. The world has a spirit of beauty. 
 
 Which looks uj^on all for the best, 
 And, while it discharges its duty, 
 
 To Providence leaves all the rest : 
 That spirit's the beam of devotion 
 
 Which lights us through life to its close, 
 And sets, like the sun in the ocean, 
 
 More beautiful far than it rose. 
 
 III. 
 PROGRESS. 
 
 Two principles govern the moral and intellectual world. 
 One is perpetual progress^ the other the necessary limita- 
 tions to that progress. If the former alone prevailed, 
 there would be nothing steadfast and durable on earth, 
 and the whole of social life would be the sport of winds 
 and waves. If the latter had exclusive sway, or even 
 if it obtained a mischievous preponderancy, every thing 
 
348 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 would petrify or rot. The best ages of the world are 
 always those in which the two principles are the most 
 equally balanced. In such ages, every enlightened man 
 ought to adopt hoih principles into his whole mind and con- 
 duct, and with one hand develop what he can^ with the 
 other restrain and uphold what he ouglit. 
 
 IV. 
 LOVE DUE TO THE CREATOR. 
 
 G. GRIFFIN. 
 
 1. And ask ye why He claims our love' ? 
 
 O, answer, all ye winds of even ! 
 O, answer, all ye lights above. 
 
 That watch in yonder darkening heaven ! 
 Thou Earth, in vernal radiance gay 
 
 As when His angels first arrayed thee, 
 And thou, O deep-tongued Ocean, say 
 
 Why man should love the Mind that made thee t 
 
 2. There's not a flower that decks the vale, 
 
 , There's not a beam that lio;hts the mountain. 
 There's not a shrub that scents the gale, 
 
 There's not a wind that stirs the fountain, 
 There's not a hue that paints the rose, 
 
 There's not a leaf around us lying, 
 But in its use or beauty show^s 
 
 True love to us, and love undying. 
 
 V. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF GOLD. 
 
 ADDISON. 
 
 A MAN who is furnished with arguments from the mint, 
 will convince his antagonist much sooner than one who 
 draws them from reason and philosophy. Gold is a won* 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 849 
 
 derful clearer of the understanding. It dissipates every 
 doubt and scruple in an instant ; accommodates itself to 
 the meanest capacities ; silences the loud and clamorous, 
 and brings over the most obstinate and inflexible. Philip 
 of Macedon ' was a man of most invincible reason in this 
 way. He refuted by it all the wisdom of Athens, con- 
 founded their statesmen, struck their orators dumb, and, 
 at length, argued them out of all their liberties. 
 
 VI. 
 
 INGRATITUDE. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 1. Blow, blow, thou winter Avind, 
 Thou art not so unkind 
 
 As man's ingratitude : 
 Thy tooth is not so keen, 
 Because thou art not seen, 
 
 Although thy breath be rude, 
 
 2. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
 Thou dost not bite so nigh 
 
 As benefits forgot : 
 Though thou the waters warp, 
 Thy sting is not so sharp 
 
 As friend remembered not. 
 
 VII. 
 THE BIBLE. 
 
 AVAYLAND. 
 
 That the truths of the Bible have the power of awa- 
 kening an intense moral feeling in man, under every 
 variety of character, learned or ignorant, civilized or sav- 
 age, — that they make bad men good, and send a pulse of 
 
350 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 healthful feeling through all the domestic, civil, and social 
 relations, — that they teach men to love right, to hate 
 wrong, and to seek each other's welfare, as the children of 
 one common Parent, — that they control the baleful pas- 
 sions of the human heart, and thus make men })roficient 
 in the science of self-government, — and, finally, that they 
 teach him to aspire after a conformity to a Being of infinite 
 holiness, and fill him with hopes infinitely more purifying, 
 more exalted, more suited to his nature, than any other 
 which this world has ever known, — are facts as incontro- 
 vertible as the laws of philosophy, or the demonstrations 
 of mathematics. 
 
 VIIL 
 
 THE MOMENTS. 
 
 J. L. KGGLESTON. 
 
 1. The moments are little and unseen things; 
 Liglit forms have they, and unseen wings ; 
 
 They glide o'er our heads with the morning's beam, 
 And slip from our grasp with the day's last gleam ; 
 They tick in our ears with the staid old clock ; 
 Tiiey stand at our hearts, and there warningly knock; 
 They bid us not loiter, if Fame we would win ; 
 They knock, and entreat us to gather them in. 
 
 2. O, list to the moments ! though little they seem, 
 They are bearing your bark on a swift, silent stream; 
 And onward, still onward^ you glide from the shore. 
 To that vast, boundless ocean where time is no more. 
 Take heed to the moments ; for with them they bear 
 Of gems the most precious, and diamonds rare. 
 Take care of the moments ; for life's but a span ; 
 Then carefully hoard them, vain, dreaming man I 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 351 
 
 IX. 
 
 THE WAR-HORSE. 
 
 BOOK OK JOB. * 
 
 Hast tljou given the horse strength ? hast thou clothed 
 his neck with thunder ? 
 
 Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory 
 of his nostrils is terrible. 
 
 He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength ; 
 he croeth en to meet the armed men. 
 
 He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted ; neither turn- 
 eth he back from the sword. 
 
 The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear, and 
 the shield. 
 
 He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage; 
 neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet. 
 
 He saith among the trumpets, — ''Ha, ha!" and he 
 smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, 
 
 and the shouting. 
 
 X. 
 
 SECLUSION. 
 
 Oh, how canst thou renounce the boundless store 
 Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ? 
 The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, 
 The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields. 
 All that the genial ray of morning gilds. 
 And all that echoes to the song of even. 
 All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields. 
 And all the dread magnificence of heaven, — 
 Oh, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ? 
 
332 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 XL 
 
 THE POWER OF LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 SMILES. 
 
 1. When Franklin^ made his discovery of the identity 
 of Hghtning and electricity, it was sneered at, and people 
 asked, — " Of what use is it?" To which his apt reply 
 was, — *' What is the use of a child ? It may become a 
 man ! " When Galvani^ discovered that a froo^'s Icir 
 twitched when placed in contact with different metals, it 
 could scarcely have been imagined that so apparently in- 
 significant a fact could have led to important results. Yet 
 therein lay the germ of the Electric Telegraph, which 
 binds the intelligence of continents together, and probably, 
 before many years elapse, will " put a girdle around the 
 globe." So, too, little bits of stone and fossil, dug out of 
 the earth, intelligently interpreted, have issued in the sci- 
 ence of geology, and the practical operations of mining, in 
 which large capitals are invested, and vast numbers of per- 
 sons profitably employed. 
 
 2. The gigantic machinery employed in pumping our 
 mines, working our mills and manufactories, and driving 
 our steam-ships and locomotives, in like manner, depends 
 for its supply of power upon so slight an agency as ])arti- 
 cles of water expanded by heat. The steum Avliich we 
 see issuing from the common tea-kettle, when pent up 
 within an ingeniously- contrived mechanism, displays a 
 force equal to that of millions of horses, and contains 
 a power to rebuke the waves, and to set even the hurri- 
 cane at defiance. Nay, it is the same power at work 
 within the bowels of the earth, which has been the cause 
 of many of those semi-miraculous catastrophes — volcanoes 
 and earthquakes — that have played so mighty a part in 
 the history of the globe. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 353 
 
 XII. 
 INFLUENCE. 
 
 MRS. S. T. BOLTON, 
 
 The smallest bark on Life's tumultuous ocean 
 Will leave a track behind for evermore ; 
 The lightest wave of hifluence, set in motion, 
 E^itencls and widens to the eternal shore. 
 We should be wary, then, who go before 
 A myriad yet to be, and we should take 
 Our bearing carefully, wKere breakers roar. 
 And fearful tempests gather : one mistake 
 May wreck unnumbered barks that follow in our wake. 
 
 LESSON CIX. 
 
 - Poi/ Y phe'mus, a fabulous monster, of g%antic size; one of the Cyclops; 
 
 who had but one eye, and that in the middle of the forehead. The 
 
 allusion in the text is to his efforts at revenge, after having been blinded 
 
 by Ulysses. 
 * SrHiNX, a monster usually represented as having the body of a lion, with 
 
 a human countenance. 
 
 THE SEA. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH OF MICrfELET. 
 
 11HAT immense mass of water which we call the sea, 
 . dark and inscrutable in its great depths, ever and 
 always impresses the human mind with a vague and re- 
 sistless awe. With what a soothing, hallowed, and hallow- 
 ing melancholy do we, evening after evening, behold the 
 sun, that great world's joy, that brilliant, life-quickening, 
 and Hfe-giving sun of ah that live, fade, sink, die, — though 
 so surely to rise and live again ! All ! as that glorious 
 sun departs, how tenderly do Ave think of the human loves 
 23 
 
364 SANDERS' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 that have died from us, — of the liour when we, also, 
 shall thus depart from human ken, lost, for the time, to 
 this world, to shine more gloriously in that other world, 
 now dark, distant, unknown, but certain ! 
 
 2. Descend to even a slight depth in the sea, and the 
 beauty and brilliancy of the upper light are lost. You 
 enter into a persistent twilight, and misty, half-lurid haze; 
 a little lower, and even that sinister and hideous twilight is 
 lost, and all around you is night, showing nothing, but 
 suggesting every thing that darkness can suggest. Above, 
 'below, all around, darkness, utter darkness, save when, 
 from time to time, the swift and gracefully terrible motion 
 of some passing monster of the deep makes " darkness 
 visible " for a brief moment; and then that passing gleam 
 leaves you in darkness more dense, more utter, more terri- 
 ble, than ever. 
 
 3. The waters of the sea afford no encouragement by 
 their transparency. Opaque, heavy, mighty, merciless, 
 the sea is a liquid Polyphemus,^ a blind giant that cares 
 not, reasons not, feels not, but hits a terribly hard blow. 
 Trust yourself upon that vast and ever-heaving bosom ^ 
 bold swimmer, and marvelously will you be upheld ; the 
 mighty thing that upholds you, dominates you too ; you 
 are a mere weak child, upheld indeed, for the instant, by 
 a giant hand. In another moment, that giant hand may 
 smite you with a giant's fatal force. 
 
 4. Childish as we may regard those terrors, they really 
 are much the same as the emotions which we may any 
 day see evinced by an inland novice, who, for the first time, 
 looks upon the sea. And not merely man, but all animals, 
 experience the same surprise, the same shock, when sud- 
 denlv brouorht face to face with the mio;htv water-world. 
 Even at ebb-tide, when the water so gently and so lovingly 
 
UNION FIFTH READEE. 355 
 
 caresses, as it leaves, that shore to which it shall so boister- 
 ously return, your liorse quite evidently likes it not: he 
 shudders, balks, snorts, and very often bolts from it at the 
 very top of his speed. Your dog recoils, howls, and never 
 concludes a real peace with the element which to him seems 
 positively hostile. 
 
 5. Long before we are face to face with the sea, we can 
 hear and imagine that grand and terrible entity. At first, 
 we hear only a dull, uniform, and distant moaning, which 
 grows louder and louder still, until its majestic roar silences, 
 or covers, all minor sounds. Very soon we perceive that 
 that roar is not monotonous, but has its alternating notes, 
 ' — its full, rich, mellow tenor, and its round, deep, majestic 
 bass. The pendulum of the clock oscillates less regularly 
 than that alternating moan and roar of the Ocean in her 
 grand unrest. In " what those wild waves are saying," 
 we feel, or fancv we f^el, the thrilling intonations of life. 
 
 6. And how many other voices hath the mighty Sea, I 
 know not, and will not anticipate. I will not speak of 
 those terrible concerts in which, haply, ere long, she will 
 take the principal part ; ( f her duets with the rocks ; of 
 the basses, those muttered thunders which she utters in 
 the" deep caverns of the rocky shore ; or those strange, wild, 
 weird, shrieking tones, in which we seem to recognize the 
 melancholy cry of ''-Help! spare! save I '^ of some fear- 
 fully imperiled humanity. No : let us, for the present, 
 contemplate her in her calmer moods, when she is strong, 
 indeed, but not violent. 
 
 7. We need not be at all surprised if childhood and 
 ignorance are astounded when they first find themselves 
 face to face with that vast and mysterious sphinx"^ of the 
 great Master's sculpture, the ocean. Why, in fact, should 
 we be astonished by their gaze of mingled awe, admiration, 
 
356 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and bewilderment, when toe ourselves, despite our early 
 culture and life-long experience, see so much in the great 
 riddle of that A^ast sphinx, which we can not even hope to 
 explain ? 
 
 8. What is the real extent of the ocean ? That it is 
 greater than that of the earth, is about as much as, con- 
 scientiously, we can at all positively affirm. On the entire 
 surface of the globe, water is the generality^ land the excep- 
 iion. But what is tlieir relative proportion ? That water 
 covers four-fifths of the globe is probable ; yet it is difficult, 
 not to say impossible, to answer the question precisely. 
 
 9. The real depth of the sea is still less known to us than 
 its extent. We are only at the mere commencement of 
 our early, few, and imperfect soundings. That those 
 mighty depths contain a great and diversified world of 
 life, love, war, and reproduction of all sorts and sizes, Ave 
 may with confidence affirm ; but we have only and barely 
 touched vipon the threshold of that world. If we need the 
 ocean, the ocean in no Avise needs us. Nature, fresh from 
 the hand of Deity, scorns the too prying gaze, and the too 
 shalloAV judgment of finite but presumptuous man. 
 
 10. Shifting and capricious as the ocean appears, it suf- 
 fers, in reality, no change ; on the contrary, it is a perfect 
 model of regularity. The really constantly changing crea- 
 ture is man ! Fragile and fleeting as man is, he has, in- 
 deed, good reason for reflection and humility, when he 
 iinds himself in presence of the great unchanging and 
 unchangeable poAvers of Nature, Avhich are ever just, grand, 
 and glorious, as his hope, his belief, and certainty of a 
 spiritual immortality. Despite that delightful hope, that 
 confident belief, that sustaining certainty, man yet is neces- 
 sarily and terribly saddened by the strange suddenness Avith 
 which he hourly sees the thread of his life forever broken. 
 
tJNION FIFTH EEADER. . 357 
 
 11. Wlienever we approach the Sea, she seems to mur- 
 mur from her Jark, inscrutable depths, — unchangeable as 
 His will who made it, — "Mortal, to-morrow you shall 
 pass away ; bnt I, /am, and ever shall be, unchanged, un- 
 changeable, mighty, and mysterious ! The earth will not 
 only receive your bones, but will soon convert them into 
 kindred earth ; but /, ever and always, shall remain, the 
 same majestic entity, — the great perfectly-balanced Life, 
 daily harmonizing myself with the harmonious and majes- 
 tic life of the bright worlds that shine above ami around 
 you!" 
 
 12. Look upon the Ocean where and when you may, 
 you everywhere and always find her the same grand and 
 terrible teacher of that hardest of all the lessons man has 
 to learn, man's insignificance ! Take your stand upon 
 some bold headland, from which, with earnest and well- 
 trained eye, you can sweep the entire horizon, or wander, 
 with shortened ken, on the sandy desert, — go whither- 
 soever you will, where old Ocean shall lash the shore, and 
 everywhere and always you shall find her the same, — 
 
 MIGHTY AND TERRIBLE ! 
 
 LESSON ex. 
 
 A WILD NIGHT AT SEA. 
 
 CIIAULES DICKENS. 
 
 0^, on^ ON, over the countless miles of angry space, roll 
 the long heaving billows. Mountains and caves arc 
 here, and yet are not ; for what is now the one is now 
 the other ; then all is but a boiling heap of rushing water. 
 
358 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Pursuit, and flight, and mad return of wave on wave, and 
 savage struggling, ending in a spouting-up of foam that 
 whitens the black night ; incessant change of place, and 
 form, and Ime ; constancy in nothing but eternal strife : 
 on, on^ ON they roll, and darker' grows the night, and 
 louder howl the winds, and more clamorous and fierce 
 become the million voices in the sea ; when the wild cry 
 goes forth upon the storm, "A Ship ! " 
 
 2. Onward she comes, in gallant combat with the ele- 
 ments, her tall masts trembling, and her timbers starting 
 on the strain : omoard she comes, now high upon the curl- 
 ing billows, now low down in the hollows of the sea, as 
 hiding for the moment from its fury; and every storm- 
 voice in the air and water cries more loudly yet, "A 
 Ship ! " Still she comes strjving on ; and, at her boldness 
 and the spreading cry, the angry waves rise up above each 
 other's hoary heads to look ; and round about the vessel, 
 far as the mariners on her decks can pierce into the 
 gloom, they press upon her, forcing each other down, and 
 starting up, and rushing forward from afar, in dreadful 
 curiosity. 
 
 3. High over her they break, and round her surge and 
 roar, and, giving place to others, meaningly depart, and 
 dash themselves to fragments, in their baffled anorer: still 
 she comes onward bravely. And though the eager multi- 
 tude crowd thick and fast upon her all the night, and dawn 
 of day dissevers the untiring train yet bearing down upon 
 the ship in an eternity of troubled water, onward she 
 comes, with dim lights burning in her hull, and people 
 there, asleep, as if no deadly element were peering in at 
 every seam and chink, and no drowned seaman's grave, 
 with but a plank. to cover it, were yawning in the unfath- 
 omable depths below. 
 
UNION FIFTH BEADEK. 359 
 
 LESSON CXI. 
 THE SAILOR'S EARLY HOME. 
 
 EEV% S. D. PHELPS. 
 
 AWAY, away, o'er the dashing spray, 
 My bark speeds light and free ; 
 And the piping gale, through the straining sail, 
 
 Whistles loud in its merry glee ; 
 And the stars at night, with luster bright, 
 
 Shine out o'er the vast expanse ; 
 And the moon from her throne on high 1ooJj:s down 
 On the restless billows' dance. 
 
 Tliere's a charm in the eye when the waves leap 
 high. 
 
 And a music in their roar ; 
 And the stars, as they shine in their spheres divine, 
 
 A joy on the spirits pour. 
 But the sea in its might, and the stars with their 
 light. 
 
 That glance on the crested foam, 
 Can not make me gay ; for my thoughts are away 
 
 In my childhood's early home. 
 
 And dreams come fast of the blissful past, 
 
 Ere my heart had felt or known 
 The ills of life, and the cares and strife 
 
 That oppress and weigh it down ; 
 Or experience, bought by suffering, taught 
 
 The lesson sad and drear. 
 That each sparkling joy finds its sad alloy, 
 
 And hope is chilled by fear. 
 
360' SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 4. In a quiet nook, by a gentle brook, 
 
 Stands that home to memory dear ; 
 And the purling stream, as it glides in the beam 
 
 Of the sun, shines bright and clear. 
 I am there again with a happy train, — 
 
 The same who in other years 
 Held their festive play with spirits gay, 
 
 And eyes undimmed by tears. 
 
 5. Those years as they passed have shadows east 
 
 On them^ as they have on me, 
 And none remain who swelled the train 
 
 Of joy 'neath the household tree ; 
 And I weep as the thought with sadness fraught 
 
 Settles dark on my troubled brain. 
 That the bliss I proved and the friends I loved 
 
 Shall never be mine again. 
 
 G. To the church-yard nigh, where the wild winds sigh, 
 
 With a low and mournful tone. 
 And the peaceful rest of earth's tranquil breast, 
 
 The cherished ones are gone. 
 There, clustering round, in that hallowed ground, 
 
 Affection's tablets stand ; 
 And the last stone reared on that spot endeared 
 
 Was raised by my trembling hand. 
 
 7. Away, far away, o'er the dashing spray, 
 
 My bark bears me fast and free ; 
 And my destiny lies under other skies 
 
 Than those so beloved by me. 
 And downward apace o'er my storm-beaten face, 
 
 Tears fall like the summer rain, 
 As my thoughts wander back from my ocean track 
 
 To the home I shall ne'er see a^ain. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 361 
 
 LESSON CXIL 
 
 THE FIREMAN. 
 
 R. T. CONRAD, 
 
 1. rpHE City slumbers ! 0) O'er its mighty walls 
 X Night's dusky mantle, soft and silent, falls ; 
 Sleep o'er the world slow waves its wand of lead, 
 And welcome torpors wrap each sinking head. 
 Stilled is the stir of labor and of life ; 
 
 Hushed is the hum, and tranquillized the strife. 
 Man is at rest, with all his hopes and fears ; 
 The young forget their sports, the old their cares : 
 The grave or gay, all those who joy or weep, 
 Now rest unconscious on the arm of sleep. 
 
 2. Sweet is the pillowed rest of Beauty now, 
 And slumber smiles upon her tranquil brow ; 
 Her bright dreams lead her to the moonlit tide, 
 Her heart's own partner wandering by her side. 
 
 (j9.) 'Tis summer's eve : the soft gales scarcely rouse 
 The low-voiced ripple and the rustling boughs ; 
 And, faint and far, some minstrel's melting tone 
 Breathes to her heart a music like its own. 
 
 3. But hark ! ('') O horror ! what a crash is there I 
 What shriek is that which fills the midnight air ? 
 
 Qff') "'TIS fire! 'tis fire! She wakes to dream no morel 
 The hot blast rushes throuo-h the blazino; door ! 
 The dun smoke eddies round ; and, hark ! that cry ! 
 " Help! HELP ! — Will no one aid ? / die ! I die ! *' 
 (=) She seeks the casement : shuddering at its hight, 
 She turns ao-ain ; the fierce flames mock her flio-ht : 
 
 16 
 
362 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Along the crackling stairs they fiercely play, 
 And roar, exulting, as they seize their prey. 
 " Help ! HELP ! — Will no one come ? " She can 
 
 no more. 
 But, pale and breathless, sinks upon the floor. 
 
 4. Will no one save thee' ? Yes^ ; there yet is 07ie 
 Remains to save, when hope itself is gone ; 
 When all have fled, when all but he would fly. 
 The Fireman comes, to rescue or to die ! 
 He mounts the stair — it wavers 'neath his tread ; 
 He seeks the room — flames flashing round his head; 
 He bursts the door ; he lifts her prostrate frame. 
 And turns ao-ain to brave the rao-ino; flame. 
 
 6. The Fire-blast smites him with his stifling breath ; 
 The fallino; timbers menace him with death ; 
 The sinking floors his hurried step betray, 
 And ruin crashes round his desperate way. 
 Hot smoke obscures — ten thousand cinders rise — 
 Yet still he staggers forward with his prize. 
 He leaps from burning stair to stair. On! on ! 
 (< ) Courage! One effort more, and all is won ! 
 
 The stair is passed — the blazing hall is braved ! 
 Still on ! yet on ! Once more ! Thank Heaven^ 
 she's saved ! 
 
 6. The hardy seaman pants the storm to brave, 
 For beckoning Fortune wooes him to the wave ; 
 The soldier battles 'neath his smoky shroud. 
 For Glory's bow is painted on the cloud ; 
 The fireman also dares each shape of death. 
 But not for Fortune's gold nor Glory's wreath. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 363 
 
 No selfish throbs within their breasts are known ; 
 No hope of praise or profit cheers them on : 
 They ask no meed, no fame ; and only seek 
 To shield the suffering and protect the weak. 
 
 7. For this the howling midnight storm they avoo ; 
 For this the raging flames rush fearless through ; 
 Mount the frail rafter— ^thrid the smoky hall — 
 Or toil, unshrinking, 'neath the tottering wall : 
 Nobler than they who, with fraternal blood. 
 Dye the dread field or tinge the fearful flood, — 
 O'er their firm ranks no crimson banners wave ; 
 They dare — they suffer — not to slay, hut save! 
 
 LESSON CXIII. 
 
 • Sa mar' I TAX and Le' vite. For an account of, see the 10th chapter of 
 Luke, from the 30th to the 37th verse. 
 
 ' Syb' A RITE, an inhabitant of Syb'aris, an ancient city of Italy, noted for 
 the effeminacy and vohiptuousness of its inhabitants. A person de- 
 voted to luxury and pleasure. 
 
 BENEFITS OF AGRICULTURE. 
 
 D. S. DICKINSON. 
 
 "^TTE have the high authority of history, sacred and pro- 
 VV fane, for declaring that agriculture is a dignified and 
 time-honored calling, — ordained and favored of Heaven, 
 and sanctioned by experience ; and we are invited to its 
 jnirsuit by the rewards of the past and the present, and 
 the rich promises of the future. While the fierce spirit of 
 war, with its embattled legions, has, in its proud trnmiphs, 
 "" whelmed nations in blood, and wrapped cities in fire," 
 
364 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and filled the land with lamentation and mourning, it has 
 not brought peace or happiness to a single hearth, dried 
 the tears of the widows or hushed the cries of the orphans 
 it has made, bound up or soothed one crushed or broken 
 spirit, nor hightened the joys of domestic or social life in 
 a sincfle bosom. 
 
 2. But how many dark recesses of the earth has agricult- 
 ure illumined with its blessings ! How many firesides has 
 it lighted up with radiant gladness ! How many hearts 
 has it made buoyant with domestic hope ! How often, like 
 the Good Samaritan,^ has it alleviated want and misery, 
 while the priest and the Levite of power have passed by on 
 the other side ! How many family altars, and gathering- 
 places of aflTection, has it erected ! How many desolate 
 homes has it cheered by its consolations ! How have its 
 peaceful and gentle influences filled the land with plente- 
 ousness and riches, and made it vocal with praise and 
 thanksgiving ! 
 
 3. It has pleased the benevolent Author of our existence 
 to set in boundless profusion before us the necessary ele- 
 ments for a high state of cultivation and enjoyment. 
 Blessings cluster around us like fruits of the land of prom- 
 ise ; and Science unfolds her treasures, and invites us to 
 partake, literally without money and without price. The 
 propensities of our nature, as well as the philosophy of our 
 being, serve to remind us that man was formed for care 
 and labor, the acquisition and enjoyment of property, for 
 society and government, to wrestle with the elements 
 around him ; and that, by an active exercise of his powers 
 and faculties alone, can he answer the ends of his creation, 
 or exhibit his exalted attributes. 
 
 4. His daily wants, in all conditions of life, prompt him 
 to exertion ; and the spirit of acquisition, so deeply im- 
 
TIN ION FIFTH READER. 365 
 
 planted in the human breast, — that " ruHng passion strong 
 in death," so universally difFused through the whole family 
 of man, — is the parent of that laudable enterprise which 
 has caused the wilderness to bud and blossom like the rose, 
 planted domestic enjoyments in the lair of the beast of 
 prey, and transformed the earth from an uncultivated wild 
 into one vast store-house of subsistence and enjoyment. 
 
 5. What can be more acceptable to the patriot or the 
 philanthropist than to behold the great mass of mankind 
 raised above the degrading influences of tyranny and indo- 
 lence to the rational enjoyment of the bounties of their 
 Creator ; to see, in the productions of man's magic powers, 
 the cultivated country, the fragrant meadow, the waving 
 harvest, the smiling garden, and the tasteful dwelling, and 
 himself, chastened by the precepts of religion, and elevated 
 by the refinements of science, partaking of the fruits of 
 his own industry, with proud consciousness that he eats not 
 the bread of idleness or fraud ; that his gains are not met 
 with the tears of misfortune, nor wrung from his fellow by 
 the devices of avarice or extortion ; his joys hightened, his 
 sorrows alleviated, and his heart rectified by the cheering 
 voice and heaven-born influences of woman ? 
 
 6. Well may he sit down under his own vine and fig- 
 tree without fear of molestation, and his nightly repose be 
 more quiet than that of the stately monarch of the East 
 upon his down of cygnets, or the voluptuous Sybarite- upon 
 his bed of roses. And while he and all his dwellings of 
 care and toil are borne onward with the circling spheres, 
 and the spangled heavens around him, in their infinite 
 depths, invite his thoughts to the contemplation of the 
 Creator's handiwork ; still, in all the worlds of philosophy 
 and intellect, he must he a worker. He is nothing, can be 
 nothing, can achieve nothing, without labor. 
 
366 SANDEKS* tJNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSOK CXIY. 
 
 ' A pol' lo. See note, page 56. 
 
 *La oc'o on, a priest of Apollo, who, as Yirgil describes, was, with his 
 
 two sons, crushed in the folds of two enormous serpents, on account 
 
 of an affront offered to Minerva. 
 
 THE AVORK OF ELOQUENCE. 
 
 ORVILLE DEWEY. 
 
 niHE LABORS requisite to form the public speaker are by 
 JL no means duly appreciated. An absurd idea prevails 
 among our scholars, that the finest productions of the mind 
 are the fruits of hasty impulse, the unfoldings of a sudden 
 thouo-ht, the brief visitations of a fortunate hour or evenino^, 
 the flashings of intuition, or the gleamings of fancy. Gen- 
 ius is often compared to lightning from the cloud, or the 
 sudden bursting out of a secret fountain ; and eloquence 
 is regarded as if it were a kind of inspiration. 
 
 2. When a man has made a happy effort, he is next 
 possessed with an absurd ambition to have it thought that 
 it cost him nothing. He will say, perhaps, that it was a 
 three-hours' work. Now, it is not enough to maintain that 
 nothing could be more injurious to our youth than this 
 way of thinking ; for the truth is, that nothing can be 
 more false. The mistake lies, in confounding, with the 
 mere arrang-ement of thoughts, or the manual labor of 
 putting them on paper, the long previous jfreparation of 
 mind, the settled habits of thought. It has taken but 
 three hours, perhaps, to compose an admirable piece of 
 poetry, or a fine speech ; but the reflections of three years, 
 or of thirty, may have been tending to that result. 
 
 3. To give the noblest thoughts the noblest expression ; 
 to stand up in the pure light of reason, or to create a new 
 atmosphere X as it were, for intellectual vision ; to put on 
 
UNION FIFTH IlEADEK. 367 
 
 nil die glories of imagination as a garment ; to penetrate 
 the soul, and to make men feel as if they were themselves 
 new creatures, to make them conscious of new powers and 
 a new being ; to exercise, in the loftiest measure, the only 
 glorious and godlike sway, — that over willing minds ; to 
 fill the ear, the eye, the inmost soul, with sounds, and 
 images, and holy visions of beauty and grandeur ; to make 
 truth and justice, to make wisdom and virtue and religion, 
 more lovely and majestic tilings than men had ever thought 
 them before ; to delight as well as to convince ; to chann, 
 to fascinate, to win, to arouse, to calm, to terrify, to over- 
 whelm, — this is the work of eloquence; and it is a glorious 
 work. 
 
 4. The great object of all the liberal arts is to exhibit 
 the mind ; to exhibit character, thought, feeling, in their 
 various aspects. In this consists all , their power and sub- 
 limity. For this, the painter spreads upon the dull canvas 
 the breathing forms of life ; the sculptor causes the marble 
 to speak ; the architect models the fair and majestic stinict- 
 ure, with sublimity enthroned in its dome, with beauty 
 shaped in its columns, and glory written upon its walls ; 
 and the poet builds his lofty rhyme ; and the eloquent in 
 music, orders his movement and combination of sweet 
 sounds. But, of this mind, the human fi-ame is the ap- 
 pointed instrument. It was designed for this end. For it 
 could have answered all the purposes of physical existence, 
 without any of its present grace and beauty. It was made 
 with no more obvious intent than to be the expression of 
 mind, the organ of the soul, the vehicle of thought. 
 
 5. And when all its powers are put in requisition for 
 this purpose, — the voice, with all its thrilling tones ; the 
 eye, " through which, as a window, the soul darts forth its 
 light ; " the lips, on wliich " grace is poured ; " the whole 
 
868 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 glowing countenance, the whole breathing frame, which, in i 
 their ordinary forms, can express more than the majesty of 
 an Apollo,^ more than the agony of a Laocoon ; ^ when 
 every motion speaks, every hneament is more than the 
 written line of genius, every muscle swells with the inspira- 
 tion of high thoughts, every nerve is swayed to the mov- 
 ings of some mighty theme, — what instrument of music, 
 what glories of the canvas, can equal it ? 
 
 6. Elo(|uence is the combination of all arts^ and it excels 
 them all in their separate powers. Nor is it confined to 
 the mere gratification of taste. Tlic great and ultimate 
 object of social existence is for man to act on man ; and 
 eloquence is the grandest medium of this action. It is not 
 only the highest perfection of a human being, (for " the 
 orator must be a good man^'') but it is that perfection in 
 act. It is sublimity, beauty, genius, power, in their most 
 glorious exercise. 
 
 LESSON CXV. 
 THE VOICE AND THE PEN. 
 
 D. F. MCCARTHY. 
 
 1. /^H ! the orator's Voice is a mighty power 
 \J As it echoes from shore to shore ; 
 And the fearless Pen has more sway o'er men 
 
 Than the murderous cannon's roar. 
 What bursts the chain far o'er the main. 
 
 And brightens the captive's den ? 
 'Tis the fearless Voice and the Pen of power,- 
 (/.) Hurrah for the Voice and Pen I 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 369 
 
 The tyrant knaves who deny our rights, 
 
 And the cowards who blanch with fear, 
 Exclaim with glee, " No arms have ye, 
 
 Nor cannon, nor sword, nor spear! 
 Your hills are ours ; with our forts and towers 
 
 We are master* of mount and glen." 
 Tyrants, beware ! for the arms we bear 
 
 Are the Voice and the fearless Pen. 
 
 Though your horsemen stand with their bridles in 
 hand, 
 
 And your sentinels walk around. 
 Though your matches flare in the midnight air, 
 
 And your brazen trumpets sound, — 
 Oh ! the orator's tongue shall be heard among 
 
 These listenino; Avarrior men ; 
 And they'll quickly say, " Why should we slay 
 
 Our friends of the Voice and Pen ? " 
 
 4. When the Lord created the earth and sea, 
 
 The stars and the glorious sun. 
 The Godhead spoke^ and the universe woke, 
 
 And the mighty work was done ! 
 Let a word be flung from the orator's tongue. 
 
 Or a drop from the fearless Pen, 
 And the chains accursed asunder burst, 
 
 That fettered the minds of men ! 
 
 5. Oh ! these are the swords with which we fight^, 
 
 The arms in which we trust ; 
 Which no tyrant hand will dare to brand. 
 Which time can not dim or rust 1 
 24 
 
370 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 When these we bore, we triumphed before, — 
 With these we'll triumph again ; 
 
 And the world will say, " No power can stay 
 The Voice and the fearless Pen ! " 
 
 'B 
 
 LESSON CXYI. 
 THE BURIAL OF MOSES. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 Y Nebo's lonely mountain, 
 On this side Jordan's wave, 
 In a vale in the land of Moab, 
 
 There lies a lonely grave ; 
 And no man dug that sepulcher, 
 
 And no man saw it e'er ; 
 For the " Sons of God " upturned the sod. 
 And laid the dead man there. 
 
 2. That was the grandest funeral 
 
 That ever passed on earth ; 
 But no man heard the tramping, 
 
 Or saw the train go forth. 
 Noiselessly as the daylight 
 
 Comes when the night is done. 
 And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek 
 
 Grows into the blazing sun ; 
 
 8. Noiselessly as the Spring-time 
 Her crown of verdure weaves, 
 And all the trees on all the hills 
 Open their thousand leaves ; 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 371 
 
 So, without sound of music, 
 
 Or voice of them that wept. 
 Silently down from the mountain's crown 
 
 The great procession swept. 
 
 Perchance the bald old eagle, 
 
 On gray Beth-peor's hight, 
 Out of his rocky aerie, 
 
 Looked on the wondrous sight ; 
 Perchance the hon stalking 
 
 Still shuns that hallowed spot ; 
 For boast and bird have seen and heard 
 
 That which man knoweth not. 
 
 But when the warrior dieth, 
 
 His comrades in the war, 
 With arms reversed, and muffled drum, 
 
 Follow the funeral-car :' 
 They show the banners taken, 
 
 They tell the battles won, 
 And after him lead his masterless steed, 
 
 While peals the minute-gun. 
 
 Amid the noblest of the land 
 
 Men lay the sage to rest, 
 And give the bard an honored place, 
 
 With costly marble dressed, 
 In the great minster transept. 
 
 Where lights like glories fall ; 
 And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings 
 
 Along the emblazoned wall. 
 
372 SANDERS' UNION SEKlEa 
 
 7. This was the bravest warrior 
 
 That ever buckled sword, 
 This the most gifted poet 
 
 That ever breathed a word ; 
 And never earth's philosopher 
 
 Traced with his golden pen, 
 On the deathless page, truths half as 
 
 As he wrote down for men. 
 
 8. And had he not high honor ? — 
 
 The hill-side for his pall ; 
 To lie in state while angels wait, 
 
 With stars for tapers tall ; 
 And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, 
 
 Over his bier to wave ; 
 And God's own hand, in that lonely land, 
 
 To lay him in the gi'ave. 
 
 9. O lonely tomb in Moab's land I 
 
 O dark Beth-peor hill ! 
 Speak to these curious hearts of ours, 
 
 And teach them to be still. 
 God hath His mysteries of grace, 
 
 Ways that we can not tell ; 
 And hides them deep, like the secret sleep 
 
 Of him He loved so well. 
 
 LESSON CXVIL 
 
 ' Di' VE9 is a Latin word, meaning rich. It is used as a name, and applied 
 to the rich man referred to in the 1 6th chapter of Luke. 
 
 " Tyhe, one of the most celebrated cities of antiquity, was, for a long time, 
 considered the emporium of commerce. It was in its most flourishing 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 373 
 
 state about 500 years before Christ. It was situated on an island near 
 the eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea, whicli was joined by Alex- 
 aader to the main land by a mole, or mound, by means of which he 
 took the city after a siege of seven months. It was surrounded by a ' 
 wall 150 feet high, and of proportionate width. Its palaces are now 
 supplanted by miserable hovels, though relics of its ancient splendor 
 are everywhere still seen, and the poor fisherman now inhabits thoso 
 cellars where were once stored the treasures of the world. 
 
 * E' DOM, or I DU me' a, is a country including the south of Palestine. 
 
 * Mu Ez'ziN, in Mohammedan countries, is the public crier who announces 
 
 the hours of prayer from the minaret. Five prayers are repeated daily. 
 ' Kle' ber was a French general, distinguished not less for his humanity 
 and integrity than for his courage, activity, and coolness. 
 
 * Mu rat' (Mil ra') was a French general, distinguished more for his daring 
 
 courage and impetuosity than for his sagacity, and strength of mind. 
 
 MOUNT TABOR. 
 
 J. T. HEADLEY. 
 
 WHAT strange contrasts this earth of ours presents ! 
 Noonday and midnight are not more opposite than 
 the scenes that are constantly passing before our eyes. 
 Truth and falsehood walk side by side through our streets, 
 and vice and virtue meet and pass every hour of the day. 
 The hut of the starving stands in the shadow of the palace 
 of the wealthy, and the carriage of Dives ^ every day 
 throws the dust of its glittering wheels over the tattered 
 garments of Lazarus. 
 
 2. Health and sickness lie down in the same apartment; 
 joy and grief look out of the same window ; and hope and 
 despair dwell under the same roof. The cry of the infant, 
 and the groan of the dying, rise together from the same 
 dwelling ; the funeral procession treads close on the heels 
 of the bridal party; and the tones of the lute and viol 
 have scarcely died away, before the requiem for the dead 
 comes swelling after. Oh ! the beautiful and deformed, 
 the pure and corrupt, joy and sorrow, ecstasies and ago- 
 
374 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 nies, life and death, are strangely blended on this our 
 restless planet. 
 
 3. What different events ha\^e transpired on the same 
 spot! Where the smoke of the Indian's wigwam arose, 
 and the stealthy tread of the wolf and panther was heard 
 over the autumn leaves at twilight, the population of New 
 York now surges along. Where once Tyre,'- the queen 
 of the sea, stood, fishermen are spreading their nets on the 
 desolate rocks, and the bright waves are rolling over its 
 marble columns. In the empty apartments of Edom,^ the 
 fox makes his den ; and the dust of the desert is sifting over 
 the forsaken ruins of Palmyra. 
 
 4. The owl hoots in the ancient halls of kings, and the 
 wind of the summer night makes sad music through the 
 rents of the once-gorgeous palaces. The Arab spurs his 
 steed along the streets of ancient Jerusalem, or scornfully 
 stands and curls his lip at the pilgrim pressing wearily to 
 the sepulcher of the Savior. The muezzin's* voice rings 
 over the. bones of the prophets, and the desert wind heaps 
 the dust above the foundations of the seven churches of 
 Asia. Oh, how good and evil, light and darkness, chase 
 each other over the world ! 
 
 5. Forty-seven years ago, a form was seen standing on 
 Mount Tabor, with which the world has since become 
 familiar. It was a bright spring morning ; and, as he sat 
 on his steed in the clear sunlight, his eye rested on a scene 
 in the vale below, which was sublime and appaUing enough 
 to quicken the pulsations of the calmest heart. That form 
 was Napoleon Bonaparte ; and the scene before him, 
 the fierce and terrible " Battle of Mount Tabor." 
 
 6. From Nazareth, where the Savior once trod, Kle- 
 BER^ had marched with three thousand French soldiers 
 forth into the plain ; when, lo ! at the foot of Mount Tabor, 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 375 
 
 he saw the whole Turkish army drawn up in order of battle. 
 Fifteen thousand infantry, and twelve thousand splendid 
 cavalry, moved down in majestic strength on this band of 
 three thousand French. Kleber had scarcely time to 
 throw his handful of men into squares, with the cannon 
 at the angles, before those twelve thousand horse, making 
 the earth smoke and thunder as they came, burst in a 
 headlong gallop upon them. 
 
 7. But round those steady squares rolled a fierce de- 
 Touring fire, emptying the saddles of those wild horsemen 
 with frightful rapidity, and strewing the earth with the 
 bodies of riders and steeds together. Again and again did 
 those splendid squadrons wheel, re-form, and charge with 
 deafening shouts, while their uplifted and flashing cimeters 
 gleamed like a forest of steel through the smoke of battle ; 
 but that same wasting fire received them, till those squares 
 seemed bound by a girdle of flame, so rapid and constant 
 were the discharo;es. 
 
 8. Before their certain and deadly aim, as they stood 
 fighting for existence, the charging squadrons fell so fast, 
 that a rampart of dead bodies was soon formed around 
 them. Behind this embankment of dead men and horses, 
 this band of warriors stood and fought for six dreadful 
 hours, and was still steadily thinning the ranks of the 
 enemy, when Napoleon debpu9hed with a single division 
 on Mount Tabor, and turned his eye below. What a 
 scene met his gaze ! The whole plain was filled with 
 marching columns, and charging squadrons of wildly gal- 
 loping steeds, while the thunder of cannon and fierce rattle 
 of musketry, amid which now and then were heard the 
 blast of thousands of trumpets and strains of martial music, 
 filled the air. 
 
 9. The smoke of battle was rolling fi.iriously over the 
 
376 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 hosts, and all was confusion and chaos in his sight. Amid 
 the twenty-seven thousand Turks that crowded the plain, 
 and enveloped their enemy like a cloud, and amid the 
 incessant discharge of artillery and musketry. Napoleon 
 could tell where his own brave troops were struggling, 
 only by the steady simultaneous volleys which showed 
 how discipline was contending with the wild valor of over- 
 powering numbers. The constant flashes from behind that 
 rampart of dead bodies were like spots of flame on the 
 tumultuous and chaotic field. 
 
 10. Napoleon descended from Mount Tabor with his 
 little band, while a single twelve-pounder, fired from the 
 hights, told the wearied Kleber that he was rushing to 
 the rescue. Then for the first time he took the offensive, 
 and, pouring his enthusiastic followers on the foe, carried 
 death and terror over the field. Thrown into confusion, 
 and trampled under foot, that mighty army rolled turbu- 
 lently back toward the Jordan, where Murat^ was anx- 
 iously waiting to mingle in the fight. Dashing with his 
 cavalry among the disordered ranks, he sabered them 
 down without mercy, and raged like a lion amid the prey. 
 
 11. This chivalric and romantic warrior declared that 
 the remembrance of the scenes that once transpired on 
 Mount Tabor, and on these thrice-consecrated spots, came 
 to him in the hottest of the fight, and nerved him with 
 tenfold courage. As the sun went down over the plains 
 of Palestine, and twilight shed its dim ray over the rent, 
 and trodden, and dead-covered field, a sulphurous cloud 
 hung around the summit of Mount Tabor. The smoke 
 of battle had settled there where once the cloud of glory 
 rested, while groans, and shrieks, and cries rent the air. 
 Nazareth, Jordan, and Mount Tabor ! what spots for bat- 
 tle-fields I 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 377 
 
 LESSON CXYIII. 
 
 * Es DRA e' lon is a plain of Palestine, often mentioned in sacred history. 
 It has been from the earliest history often the scene of bloody conflicts. 
 It is situated south of the plain of Galilee. 
 
 MOUNT TABOR. — Continued. 
 
 J. T. HEADLEY. 
 
 ROLL back eighteen centuries, and again view that 
 mount. The day is bright and beautiful, as on tlie 
 day of battle, and the same rich Oriental landscape is 
 smiling in the same sun. There is Nazareth, with its 
 busy population, — the same Nazareth from which Kleber 
 marched his army ; and there is Jordan, rolling its briglit 
 waters along, — the same Jordan along whose banks 
 charged the glittering squadrons of Murat's cavalry ; and 
 there is Mount Tabor, — the same on which Bonaparte 
 stood with his cannon ; and the same beautiful plain where 
 rolled the smoke of battle, and struggled thirty thousand 
 men in mortal combat. 
 
 2. But how different is the scene that is passing there ! 
 The Son of God stands on that hight, and casts his eye 
 over the quiet valley, through which Jordan winds its sil- 
 very current. Three friends are beside Him. They have 
 walked together up the toilsome way; and now they stand, 
 mere specks on the distant summit. Far away to the 
 north-west shines the blue Mediterranean ; all around 
 is the great plain of Esdraelon^ and Galilee; eastward 
 the Lake of Tiberias dots the landscape ; while Mount 
 Carmel lifts its naked summit in the distance. 
 
 3. But the glorious landscape at their feet is forgotten 
 in a sublimer scene that is passing before them. The son 
 of Mary — the carpenter of Nazareth — the wanderer, 
 
378 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 with whom they have traveled many a weary league, in 
 all the intimacy of companions and friends, begins to 
 change before their eyes. Over his garments is spreading 
 a strange light, steadily brightening into intenser beauty, 
 till that form glows with such splendor, that it seems to 
 waver to and fro, and dissolve in the still radiance. 
 
 4. The three astonished friends gaze on it in speechless 
 admiration, then turn to that familiar face. But, lo ! a 
 greater change has passed over it. That sad and solemn 
 countenance which has been so often seen stooping over 
 the couch of the dying, entering the door of the hut of 
 poverty, passing through the streets of Jerusalem, and 
 pausing by the weary way-side, — ay, bedewed with the 
 tears of pity, — now burns like the sun in his mid-day 
 splendor. Meekness has given way to majesty ; sadness, to 
 dazzling glory ; the look of pity, to the grandeur of a God. 
 
 5. The still radiance of Heaven sits on that serene brow, 
 and all around that divine form flows an atmosphere of 
 strange and wondrous beauty. Heaven has poured its 
 brightness over that consecrated spot ; and on the beams 
 of hght which glitter there, Moses and Elias have de- 
 scended, and, wrapped in the same shining vestments, 
 stand beside him. Wonder follows wonder, for those 
 three glittering forms are talking with each other ; and 
 amid the thrilling accents are heard the words, " Mount 
 Olivet," " Calvary ! " — " the agony and the death of the 
 crucifixion ! " 
 
 6. No wonder a sudden fear came over Peter, that para- 
 lyzed his tongue, and crushed him to the earth, when, in 
 the midst of his speech, he saw a cloud descend like a fall- 
 ing star from heaven, and, bright and dazzling, balance 
 itself over those forms of light, while from its bright fold- 
 ings came a voice, saying, — '' This is my beloved Son, in 
 whom I am well pleased ; hear ye Him ! " 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 379 
 
 7. How long the vision lasted, we can not tell ; but all 
 that night did Jesus, with his friends, stay on that lonely 
 mountain. Of the conversation that passed between them 
 there, we know nothing ; but little sleep, we imagine, vis- 
 ited their eyes that night; and as they sat on the high 
 summit," and watched the stars as they rose one after 
 another above the horizon, and gazed on the moon as she 
 poured her light over the dim and darkened landscape, 
 words were spoken that seemed born of Heaven, and 
 truths never to be forgotten were uttered in the ears of the 
 subdued and reverent discij)les. 
 
 8. Oh, how different are Heaven and earth ! Can there 
 be a stronorer contrast than the Battle and Transfigura- 
 TiON of Mount Tabor ? One shudders to think of Bona- 
 parte and the Son of God on the same mountain, — one 
 with his wasting cannon by his side, and the other with 
 Moses and Elias just from Heaven. But no after desecra- 
 tion can destroy the first consecration of Mount Tabor ; 
 for, surrounded with the glory of Heaven, and honored 
 with the wondrous scene of the Transfiguration, it 
 stands a sacred mountain on the earth. 
 
 LESSON CXIX. 
 NATHAN HALE. 
 
 FRANCIS M. FINCH. 
 
 Part of a poem delivered in 1853 at a centennial anniversary of the Linonian 
 Society, Yale College. Nathan Hale was one of the early members. 
 
 1. rpO drum-beat,' and heart-beat, 
 X A soldier marches by : 
 There is color in his cheek, 
 
 There is courage in his eye ; 
 Yet to drum-beat, and heart-beat, 
 
 In a moment he must die. 
 
380 SANDEES' UKION SEEIE8. 
 
 2. By starlight and moonlight 
 
 He seeks the Briton's camp; 
 
 He hears the rustling flag, 
 
 And the armed sentry's tramp ; 
 
 And the starlight and moonhght 
 The silent wanderer's lamp. 
 
 8. With slow tread, and still tread, . 
 
 He scans the tented line ; 
 And he counts the battery-guns 
 
 By the gaunt and shadowy pine ; 
 And his slow tread, and still tread, 
 
 Gives out no warning sign. 
 
 4. A sharp clang, a stetl clang, 
 And terror in the sound ; 
 
 For the sentry, eagle-eyed, 
 
 In the camp a spy hath found ; 
 
 With a sharp clang, a steel clang, 
 The patriot is bound. 
 
 6. With calm brow, steady brow. 
 He listens to his doom : 
 
 In his look there is no fear, 
 Nor a shadow-trace of gloom ; 
 
 But with calm brow, steady brow, 
 He robes him for the tomb. 
 
 6. In the long night, the still night. 
 He kneels upon -the sod ; 
 And his brutal guards Avithhold 
 
 E'en the solemn word of God ; 
 In the long night, the still night, 
 He " passeth under the rod."* 
 * Ezekiel, 20th chapter, 37th verse. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 381 
 
 7. 'Neath the blue morn, the sunny morn, 
 
 He dies upon the tree ; 
 And he mourns that he can lose 
 
 But one life for Liberty ; 
 In the blue morn, the sunny mom, 
 
 His spirit-wings are free. 
 
 8. His last words, his message-words, ' 
 
 They burn, lest friendly eye 
 Should read how proud and calm 
 
 A patriot could die ; 
 With his last words, his message-words, 
 
 A soldier's battle-cry. 
 
 9. From fame-leaf, and angel-leaf. 
 
 From monument and urn. 
 The sad of Earth, the glad of Heaven, 
 
 His tragic fate shfill learn ; 
 And on fame-leaf and angel-leaf 
 
 The name of Hale shall burn. 
 
 LESSON CXX. 
 
 * Col OS se' um. See note, page 333. 
 
 ^ Par' the non, a celebrated temple of Minerva at Athens, in Greece. 
 
 LOSS OF THE UNION IRREPARABLE. 
 
 DANIEL WEBSTER. 
 
 From a eulogy on Washington, delivered in the city of Washington, in 
 honor of his centennial birthday, Feb. 22, 1832. 
 
 WASHINGTON, therefore, could regard, and did re^ 
 gard, nothing as of paramount political interest, but 
 the integrity of the Union itself. With a 'hnited govern- 
 ment, well administered, he saw we had nothing to fear ; 
 
382 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and, without it, notliing to hope. The sentiment is just, 
 and its momentous truth should solemnly impress the 
 whole country. 
 
 2. If we might regard our Country as personated in the 
 spirit of Washington, if we miglit consider him as repre- 
 senting her in her past renown, her present prosperity, 
 and her future career, and as, in that character, demanding 
 of us all to account for our conduct as political men or as 
 private citizens, how should he answer him who has vent- 
 ured to talk of disunion and dismemberment ? Or how 
 should he answer him who dwells perpetually on local 
 interests, and fans every kindling flame of local prejudice ? 
 How should he answer him who would array State against 
 State, interest against interest, and party against party, 
 careless of the continuance of that unity of govermnent 
 which constitutes us one people ? 
 
 3. Gentlemen, the political prosperity* which this coun- 
 try has attained, and which it now enjoys, it has acquired 
 mainly through the instrumentality of the present govern- 
 ment. While this agent continues, the capacity of attain- 
 ing to still higher degrees of prosperity exists also. We 
 have, while this lasts, a political life capable of beneficial 
 exertion, with power to resist or overcome misfortunes, to 
 sustain us against the ordinarv accidents of human affairs, 
 and to promote, by active efforfs, every public interest. 
 
 4. But dismemberment strikes at the very being ivhich pre- 
 serves these faculties. It would lay its rude and ruthless 
 hand on this great agent itself. It would sweep away, not 
 only what we possess, but all power of regaining lost or 
 acquiring new possessions. It would leave the country, 
 not only bereft of its prosperity and happiness, but without 
 limbs, or orgalis, or faculties, by which to exert itself here- 
 after in the pursuit of that prosperity and happiness. 
 
UNION FIFTH READEE. 383 
 
 5. Other misfortunes may be borne, or their effects over- 
 come. If disastrous war sliould sweep our commerce from 
 the ocean, another generation may renew it ; if it exliaust 
 our treasury, future industry may replenish it ; if it deso- 
 late and lay waste our fields, still, under a new cultivation, 
 they will grow green again, and ripen to future harvests. 
 It were but a trifle even, if the walls of yonder Capitol 
 w^ere to crumble, if its lofty pillars should fall, and its gor- 
 geous decorations be all covered by the dust of the valley. 
 All these mio-ht be rebuilt. But who shall reconstruct 
 the fabric of demolished government ? Who shall rear again 
 the well-proportioned colunnis of constitutional liberty ? 
 Who shall frame to£i;ether the skillful architecture which 
 unites national sovereignty with state rights, individual 
 security, and public prosperity ? 
 
 6. No, gentlemen : if these columns fall, they will be 
 raised not again. Like the Colosseum,^ and the Parthe- 
 non,^ they will be destined to a mournful, a melancholy 
 immortality. Bitterer tears, however, will flow over them 
 than were ever shed over the monuments of Roman or 
 Grecian art ; for they will be the remnants of a more glo- 
 rious edifice than Greece or Rome ever saw, — the edifice 
 of constitutional American liberty. 
 
 7. But, gentlemen, let us hope for better things. Let 
 us trust in that gracious Being who has hitherto held our 
 country as in the hollow of His hand. Let us trust to the 
 virtue and the intelligence of the people, and. to the effi- 
 cacy of religious obligation. Let us trust to the influence 
 of Washington's example. Let us hope that that fear of 
 Heaven which expels all other fear, and tiiat regard to 
 duty which transcends all other regard, may influence pub- 
 lic men and private citizens, and lead ou^' country still 
 onward in her happy career. 
 
384 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 8. Full of these gratifying anticipations and hopes, let 
 us look forward to the end of that century which is now 
 commenced. A hundred years hence, other disciples of 
 Washington will celebrate his birth, with no less of sincere 
 admiration than we now commemorate it. When they 
 shall meet, as we now meet, to do themselves and him that 
 honor, so surely as they shall see the blue summits of his 
 native mountains rise in the horizon, so surely as they shall 
 behold the river on whose banks he lived, and on whose 
 banks he rests, still flowing on toward the sea, so surely 
 may they see, as we now see, the flag of the Union floating 
 on the top of the Capitol ; and then, as now, may the sun 
 in his course visit no land more free, more happy, more 
 lovely, than this our own country ! 
 
 LESSON CXXI. 
 
 * Per I he' LI on, (peri, near; helion, the sun;) the point of a planet's 
 
 orbit nearest to the sun. 
 
 * Ple' IAD, one of the Pleiades, a group of seven small stars situated in the 
 
 neck of the constellation Taurus, regarded by Madler as the central 
 group of the system of the Milky Way. 
 ' South' ERN Cross. See note, page 138. 
 
 * Pole-Star. See note, page 138. 
 
 * Di A pa' son, (dia, through; pason, all;) all through the octave, or inter- 
 
 val which includes all the tones of the diatonic scale ; the entire com- 
 pass of tones. 
 
 STARS IN MY COUNTRY'S SKY. 
 
 MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 
 
 1. A RE ye all there, are ye all there, 
 IX Stars of my country's sky? 
 Are ye all there, are ye all there, 
 In your shining homes on high ? 
 
UKION FIFTH READER, 385 
 
 " Count us, count us ! " was their answer, 
 
 As tliey dazzled on my view, 
 In glorious perihelion,^ 
 
 Aniid their field of blue. 
 
 2. I can not count ye rightly ; 
 
 There's a cloud with sable rim ; 
 I can not make your number out, 
 
 For my eyes with tears are dim. 
 Oh I bright and blessed angel 
 
 On white wino; floating bv, 
 Help me to count, and not to miss 
 
 One star in my country's sky ! 
 
 3. Then the angel touched mine eyelids, 
 
 And touched the frowning cloud ; 
 And its sable rim departed, 
 
 And it fled with murky shroud. 
 There was no missing Pleiad ^ 
 
 'Mid all that sister race ; 
 The Southern Cross ^ gleamed radiant forth. 
 
 And the Pole-star* kept its place. 
 
 4. Then I knew it was the angel 
 
 Who woke the hymning strain. 
 That, at our Redeemer's birth, 
 
 Pealed out o'er Bethlehem's plain : 
 And still its heavenly key-tone 
 
 My listening country held ; 
 For all her constellated stars 
 
 The diapason^ swelled. 
 17 
 
386 SAl^DERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSOI^ CXXII. 
 GOD BLESS OUR STARS. 
 
 B. F. TAYLOR, 
 
 OD bless our stars forever ! " 
 Thus the angels sang sublime, 
 When round God's forges fluttered fast 
 
 The sparks of starry time ; 
 "When they fanned them with their pinions. 
 
 Till they kindled into day, 
 
 And revealed Creation's bosom, 
 
 Where the infant Eden lay. 
 
 '•"G 
 
 2. " God bless our stars forever ! " 
 
 Thus they sang, the seers of old, 
 When they beckoned to the Morning, 
 
 Through the future's misty fold, — 
 When they waved the wand of wonder, 
 
 When they breathed the magic word, 
 And the pulses' golden glimmer 
 
 Showed the wakino; granite heard. 
 
 'to to' 
 
 3. " God bless our stars forever ! '' 
 
 'Tis the burden of the song 
 Where the sail through hollow midnight 
 
 Is flickering along ; 
 When a ribbon of blue heaven 
 
 Is a-gleaming through the clouds, 
 With a star or two upon it, 
 
 For the sailor in the shrouds. 
 
 4. " God bless our stars forever ! ** 
 
 It is Liberty's refrain, 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 387 
 
 From the snows of wild Nevada 
 
 To the sounding woods of Maine r 
 Where the green Multno'mah wanders } 
 
 Where the Alabama rests ; 
 Where the thunder shakes his turban 
 
 Over Alleghany's crests ; 
 
 5. Where the mountams of New England 
 
 Mock Atlantic's stormy main ; 
 Where God's palm imprints the prairie 
 
 With the type of heaven again ; 
 Where the mirrored morn is dawning, 
 
 Link to link, our lakes along ; 
 And Sacramento's Golden Gate 
 
 Swinging open to the song, — 
 
 6. There and there, " Our stars forever ! '' 
 
 How it echoes ! How it thrills ! 
 Blot that banner ? AVhy, they bore it 
 
 When no sunset bathed tlie hills. 
 Now over Bunker see it billow, 
 
 Now at Bennington it waves, 
 Ticonderoga swells beneath. 
 
 And Saratoga's graves ! 
 
 7. Oh ! long ago at Lexington, 
 
 And above those minute-men, 
 The " Old Thirteen '' were blazing brig]it, — 
 
 There were onl?/ thirteen then ! 
 God's own stars are gleaming through it, — 
 
 Stars not woven in its thread ; 
 Unfurl it, and that flag Avill glitter 
 
 With the lieaven overhead. 
 
S88 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 8. Oh ! it waved above the Pilgrims, 
 
 On the pinions of the prayer ; 
 Oh ! it billowed o'er the battle, 
 
 On the surges of the air ; 
 Oh ! the stars have risen in it, 
 
 Till the eagle waits the sun, 
 And Freedom from her mountain-watch 
 
 Has counted " thirty-one."* 
 
 9. When the weary Years are halting 
 
 In the mighty march of Time, 
 And no new ones throng the threshold 
 
 Of its corridors sublime, — 
 When the clarion call, '' Close up! " 
 
 Rings along the line no more, — 
 Then adieu, thou blessed banner, 
 
 Then adieu, and not before ! 
 
 LESSOIvT CXXIII. 
 
 ^ Corn wal' lis, Chaples, was born Dec. 31, 1738. He entered the Brit- 
 ish army early, and obtained deserved promotion and credit in tlie last 
 campaign of the Seven - Years' War. He served actively and honorably as 
 major-general under Howe and Clinton, in the first year of the Ameri- 
 can War ; and, in 1780, he held an independent command. He gained 
 several victories; but was at last shut up and besieged in Yorklown, 
 where he was obliged to surrender himself and his army, after an obsti- 
 nate and gallant defense, on the 19th of October, 1781. In 1805, he 
 was a second time made Governor of India; but the old warrior's 
 strength failed him, and he died at Ghazepore, Oct. 5, 1 805. 
 
 *Knox, IIknry, a major-general in the American army, was born in Boston, 
 July 25, 1750. He served as a volunteer at the battle of Bunker Hill. 
 In 1776, he was appointed to the command of the artillery-corps, with 
 the rank of brigadier-general. He distinguished himself at Trenton^ 
 Princeton, German town, and Monmouth. He died in 1806. 
 
 * There are now thirty-six States. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEK. 38J 
 
 WASHINGTON'S JOURNEY TO HIS INAUGURATION. 
 
 W. IRVING. 
 
 ON" the fourteenth of April, 1789, he received a lettei 
 from tlie President of the Congress, duly notifying him 
 of his election ; and he prepared to set out immediately 
 for New York, the seat of government. An entry in his 
 diary, dated the 16th, says, — "About ten o'clock, I bade 
 adieu to Mount Vernon, to private life, and to domestic! 
 felicity ; and, with a mind oppressed with more anxious 
 and painful sensations than I have words to express, set 
 out with the best disposition to render service to my coun- 
 try in obedience to its call, but with less hope of answering 
 its expectations." 
 
 2. At the first stage of his journey, a trial of his tender- 
 est feelings awaited him at a public dinner given him in 
 Alexandria by his neighbors and personal friends, among 
 whom he had lived in the constant interchange of kind 
 offices, and who were aw^are of the practical beneficence 
 of his private character. A deep feeling of regret mingled 
 with their festivity. The mayor, who presided, and spoke 
 the sentiments of the people of Alexandria, deplored in his 
 departure the loss of the first and best of their citizens, the 
 ornament of the aged, the model of the young, the im- 
 prover of their agriculture, the friend of their commerce, 
 the benefactor of their poor ; but " ^o," added he, " and 
 make a grateful people happy^ who will be doubly grate- 
 ful when they contemplate this new sacrifice for their 
 interests." 
 
 3. Washington was too deeply affected for many words 
 in reply. '' Just after having bade adieu to my do 
 
 MESTIC CONNECTIONS," Said he, '' THIS TENDER PROOF OF 
 YOUR FRIENDSHIP IS BUT TOO WEIJ- CALCUEATED TO 
 
390 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 AWAKEN STILL FURTHER MY SENSIBILITY, AND INCREASE 
 MY REGRET AT PARTING FROM THE ENJOYMENTS OF PRI- 
 VATE LIFE. All that now remains for me is to 
 
 COMMIT MYSELF AND YOU TO THE CARE OF THAT BE- 
 NEFICENT Being, who, on a former occasion, hap- 
 pily BROUGHT US TOGETHER AFTER A LONG AND DIS- 
 TRESSING SEPARATION. PeRHAPS THE SAME GRACIOUS 
 
 Providence will again indulge me. But words 
 FAIL ME. Unutterable sensations must, then, be 
 
 LEFT TO MORE EXPRESSIVE SILENCE, WHILE, FROM AN 
 ACHING HEART, I BID ALL MY AFFECTIONATE FRIENDS 
 AND KIND NEIGHBORS FAREWELL ! " 
 
 4. His progress to tlie seat of governmeiit was a con- 
 tinual ovation. The ringing of bells and roaring of can- 
 nonry proclaimed his course through the country. The 
 old and young, women and children, thronged the high- 
 ways to bless and welcome him. Deputations of the most 
 respectable inhabitants from the principal places came 
 forth to meet and escort him. Washington had hoped 
 to be spared all military parade, but found it was not to 
 be evaded. Cavalry had assembled from the surroundino; 
 country ; a superb white horse was led out for Washington 
 to mount ; arid a grand procession set forward, with Gen. St. 
 Clair, of Revolutionary notoriety, at its head. It gathered 
 numbers as it advanced ; passed under triumphal arches 
 in twined with laurel, and entered Philadelphia amid the 
 shouts of the multitude. 
 
 5. A day of public festivity succeeded, ended by a dis- 
 play of fireworks. Washington's reply to the congratula- 
 tions of the mayor, at a great civic banquet, spoke the 
 genuine feelings of his modest nature, amid these testimo- 
 nials of a world's applause. " When I contemplate the 
 interposition of Providence, as it was visibly manifested in 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 391 
 
 guiding us througli the Revolution, in preparing us for the 
 reception of the general government, and in conciliating 
 the good will of the people of America toward one another 
 after its adoption, I feel myself oppressed and almost over- 
 whelmed with a sense of divine munificence. I feel that 
 nothing is due to my personal agency in all those wonder- 
 ful and complicated events, except what can be attributed 
 to an honest zeal for the good of my country." 
 
 6. We question whether any of these testimonials of a 
 nation's gratitude affected Washington more sensibly than 
 those he received at Trenton. It was on a sunny after- 
 noon when he arrived on the banks of the Delaware, 
 where, twelve years before^ he had crossed in darkness and 
 storm, through clouds of snow and drifts of floating ice, 
 on his daring attempt to strike a blow at a triumphant 
 enemy. Here, at present, all was peace and sunshine; 
 the broad river flowed placidly along ; and crowds awaited 
 him on the opposite bank, to hail him with love and 
 transport. 
 
 7. We will not dwell on the joyous ceremonials with 
 w^hich he was welcomed ; but there was one too peculiar 
 to be omitted. The reader may remember Washington's 
 gloomy night on the banks of the Assunpink, which flows 
 through Trenton ; the camp-fires of Cornwallis^ in front 
 of him, the Delaware full of floating ice in the rear, and 
 his sudden resolve on that midnifjht retreat which turned 
 the fortunes of the campaign. On the bridge crossing that 
 eventful stream, the ladies of Trenton had caused a tri- 
 umphal arch to be erected. It was intwined with ever- 
 jrrecns and laurels, and bore the inscription, — ''The 
 Defender of the jNIothers will be the Protector 
 OF the Daughters." 
 
 8. At this bridge the matrons of the city were assembled 
 
392* SANDEES' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 to pay him reverence ; and, as he passed under the arch, 
 a number of young girls, dressed in white and crowned 
 with garlands, strewed flowers before him, singing an ode 
 expressive of their love and gratitude. Never was ovation 
 more* graceful, touching, and sincere; and Washington, 
 tenderly affected, declared that the impression of it on his 
 heart could never be effaced. His whole progress through 
 New Jersey must have afforded a similar contrast to his 
 weary marchings to and fro, harassed by doubts and per- 
 plexities, with bale-fires blazing on its hills, instead of 
 festive illuminations, and when the ringing of bells and 
 booming of cannon, now so joyous, were the signals of 
 invasion and maraud. 
 
 9. In respect to his reception at New York, Washington 
 had signified in a letter to Governor Clinton that none 
 could be so congenial to his feelings as a quiet entry, 
 devoid of ceremony ; but his modest wishes were not com- 
 plied with. At Elizabeth town Point, a committee of both 
 Houses of 'Congress, with various civic functionaries, 
 waited by appointment to receive him. He embarked 
 on board of a splendid barge constructed for the occasion. 
 It was manned by thirteen branch-pilots, masters of ves- 
 sels, in white uniforms, and commanded by Commodore 
 Nicholson. Other barges fancifully decorated followed, 
 having on board the heads of departments, and other pub- 
 lic officers, and several distinguished citizens. As they 
 passed through the strait between the Jerseys and Staten 
 Island, called the Kills, other boats decorated with flags 
 foil in their wake, until the whole, forming a nautical pro- 
 cession, swept up the broad and beautiful bay of New York 
 to the sound of instrumental music. 
 
 10. On board of two vessels were parties of ladies and 
 gentlemen, who sang congratulatory odes as Washington's 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 393 
 
 barge approached. The sliips at anchor in the harbor, 
 dressed in colors, fired salutes as it passed. One alone, 
 *•' The Galveston," a Spanish man-of-war, displayed no signs 
 of gratulation until the barge of the general was nearly 
 abreast ; when suddenly, as if by magic, the yards were 
 manned ; the ship burst forth, as it were, into a full array 
 of fla^s and sionals, and thundered a salute of thirteen 
 guns. He approached the landing-place of Murray's 
 Wharf amid the ringing of bells, the roaring of cannonry, 
 and the shouting of multitudes collected on every pier- 
 head. 
 
 11. On landing, he was received by Governor Clinton. 
 General Knox,'- too, who had taken such affectionate leave 
 of him on his retirement from military life, was there to 
 welcome him in his civil capacity. Other of his fellow- 
 soldiers of the Revolution were likewise there, and mingled 
 with the civic dignitaries. At this juncture, an officer 
 stepjjed up and requested Washington's orders, announ- 
 
 eino; himself as commandino; his guard. Washino-ton de- 
 cs o o & 
 
 sired him to proceed according to the directions he might 
 have received in the present arrangements ; but that, for 
 the future^ the affection of his fellow-citizens was all the 
 guard he wanted. 
 
 12. Carpets had been spread to a carriage prepared to 
 convey him to his destined residence ; but he preferred to 
 walk. He was attended by a long civil and military train. 
 In the streets through which he passed, the houses were 
 decorated with flags, silken banners, garlands of flowers 
 and evergreens, and bore his name in every form of orna- 
 ment. The streets were crowded with people, so that it 
 was with difficulty a passage could be made by the city 
 officers. Washington frequently bowed to the multitude 
 as he passed, taking off his" hat to the ladies, who thronged 
 
394 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 every window, waving their handkerchiefs, throwing flow- 
 ers before him, and many of them shedding tears of enthu- 
 biasm. 
 
 LESSON CXXIV. 
 
 * C^' SAR, Caius Julius, the first Roman emperor, was born July 12, b.c. 
 100. He was one of the greatest warriors that Rome ever produced. 
 Having subjugated Gaul, he quarreled with Pompey, and, pursuing 
 him into Greece, brought the contest to a final issue on the plains of 
 Pharsalia, Aug. 4, b c. 48. He next went to Africa; and, having van- 
 quished the army under Scipio and Cato, he returned in triumph to 
 Rome, and devoted himself to the duties of dictator. But his career 
 was destined to be short. A conspiracy against his life was formed ; 
 and on the Ides, or 15th, of March, he perished by the hands of assas- 
 sins in the senate-house, B.C. 44. As a warrior, statesman, and a man 
 of letters, Coesar was one of the most remarkable men that ever lived. 
 
 ^Bo'na parte. Napoleon, one of the most remarkable of military men, 
 was born in Corsica, an island in the Mediterranean, Feb. 5, 1768: 
 although he afterwards gave out that he was born 1.5th August, 1769 ; 
 and that is usually considered as the period of his nativity. After 
 leaving the military school at Brienne, he went to Paris, and entered 
 wpon his military career. In 1S04, he became Emperor of Prance. 
 After remarkable successes and reverses, he was defeated by the allied 
 armies under Wellington, June 18, 1815. He was removed to St. 
 Helena, where he died May 5, 1821. 
 
 LINCOLN'S JOURNEY TO HIS INAUGURATION. 
 
 L. H. WHITNEY. 
 
 SPECIAL train of cars was provided for him ; and, 
 
 A 
 
 on the eleventli day of February, 1861, bidding fare- 
 well to his neiglibors and friends at Springfield in tliese 
 solemn words, he took his departure : — 
 
 " My Friends^ — No one, not in my position, can ap- 
 preciate THE SADNESS I FEELAT THIS PARTING. To THIS 
 PEOPLE I OWE ALL THAT I AM. HeRE HAVE I LIVED FOR 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 395 
 
 MORE THAN A QUARTER OF A CENTURY ; HERE MY CHILDREN 
 WERE BORN, AND HERE ONE OF THEM LIES BURIED. I 
 KNOW NOT HOW SOON I SHALL SEE YOU AGAIN. A DUTY 
 DEVOLVES UPON ME, WHICH IS, PERHAPS, GREATER THAN 
 THAT WHICH HAS DEVOLVED UPON ANY OTHER MAN SINCE 
 THE DAYS OF WASHINGTON. No MAN COULD HAVE SUC- 
 CEEDED, EXCEPT BY THE AID OF DiVINE PROVIDENCE, UPON 
 WHICH HE AT ALL TIMES RELIED. I FEEL THAT I CAN NOT 
 SUCCEED WITHOUT THE SAME DIVINE AID THAT SUSTAINED 
 HIM, AND IN THE SAME AlMIGHTY BeING I PLACE MY RE- 
 LIANCE FOR SUPPORT ; AND I HOPE YOU, MY FRIENDS, WTLL 
 ALL PRAY THAT I MAY RECEIVE THAT DIVINE ASSISTANCE, 
 WITHOUT WHICH I CAN NOT SUCCEED, BUT WITH WHICH 
 SUCCESS IS CERTAIN. AgAIN I BID YOU ALL AN AFFECTION- 
 ATE FAREWELL." 
 
 2. Toward the conclusion of these remarks, himself and 
 audience were moved to tears. His request that he might 
 have the prayers of his friends and neighbors for his suc- 
 cess was responded to by choked exclamations of ^' We 
 will! we will!^'' As he turned, and entered the cars, 
 three cheers burst involuntarily from a thousand lips; and 
 a Godspeed and safe journey were wished him as the train 
 moved slowly out of sight. When he went forth from his 
 quiet home in the West to put upon him the majestic 
 robes of that more than kingly office, the nation and the 
 w^orld listened to his utterances and watched his steps Avith 
 extraordinary interest. 
 
 3. His journey was like the march of a conqueror. 
 Curious crowds gathered all along the road to catch a 
 glimpse of him as the train rushed past them. Cheers, 
 the waving of hats and handkerchiefs, and the booming of 
 cannon, greeted him at every station. At the last town in 
 his State, he told the throng that gathered about him that 
 
396 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 he was " leaving them upon an errand of national impor- 
 tance, attended with many difficulties ; but, as the poet has 
 expressed it, let us believe that 
 
 * There's a silver lining to every cloud.' " 
 
 The train swept on ; his route lay through most of the 
 great cities of the Northern States, and all vied to do him 
 honor. 
 
 4. Immense crowds awaited his coming. Flags and 
 banners were suspended across the track. The roar of' 
 cannon announced his approach. The streets were liter^ 
 ally blocked with people assembled to greet him. Th^ 
 reception was an era in his life, as well as in the history of 
 the country. No king, however mighty, was ever greeteci 
 with such welcome. Caesar^ and Napoleon^ had their tri- 
 umphs ; but they rode to power amid a deluge of blood 
 and tears. The object of this grateful homage had been 
 elevated to an honor more lofty than their thrones by the 
 wish and will of a great and intelligent people, thr<»ugh 
 the peaceful agency of the ballot-box. 
 
 LESSON CXXV. 
 
 DAY-STAR OF LIBERTY. 
 
 M. A. MOSES. 
 
 •I 
 
 N that dark, gloomy night, 
 Ere Freedom's bright mom, 
 When the strong hand of J\light 
 Man's Right laughed to scorn. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 397 
 
 Througli battle and strife, 
 
 Through blood and througli death, 
 Came a glorious life, — 
 'Twas Liberty's birth ! 
 Through the smoke of that conflict pervading the skies, 
 Behold the day-star of Liberty rise ! 
 
 2. Li the gathering gloom 
 
 Of that perilous hour, 
 When our fathers o'ertumed 
 
 The mad tyrant's power ; 
 Through darkness and storm, 
 
 By night and by day. 
 The pure light of freedom 
 Illumined the way : 
 'Twas then, O Columbia ! 'mid carnage and war, 
 First dawned on the world thy bright natal star I 
 
 3. On Lexincrton's sward, 
 
 Down Bunker's steep side. 
 From the breasts of the slain 
 Ran the crimson life-tide ; 
 Across Delaware's stream, 
 
 Through bleak Valley Forge, 
 Where blood marked their steps 
 In that wild mountain gorge ; 
 Still Freedom's blest hope those heroes led on 
 To battle and death, till triumph was won. 
 
 4. On Camden's hot plains. 
 
 By Brandywine's wave, 
 The cohorts of foemen 
 Found many a grave ; 
 
398 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And Yorktown's proud rampart 
 
 In vain raised its side 
 'Gainst the wild rushing surge 
 Of Liberty's tide ; 
 In a halo of glory, o'er land and o'er sea, 
 Kovv floats in glad triumph the flag ©f the free ! 
 
 5. From hill-top and mountain, 
 
 From valley and plain. 
 Ring glad shouts from millions 
 
 For Liberty's reign ; 
 The forest and prairie, 
 
 The ocean and stream, 
 In the sunlight of freedom 
 With new luster gleam ; 
 While our bright starry banner, wherever unfurled, 
 Is humanity's beacon, — the hope of the world! 
 
 6. Say, sons of the martyrs 
 
 In Fx'eedom's cause slain. 
 Shall the strong hand of tyrants 
 
 This land rend in twain ? 
 By the blood of those martyrs 
 
 For you freely given. 
 By the pra,yers of the millions 
 Ascending to heaven. 
 Go, kneel at the graves of your fathers, and swear 
 That our flag shall still float in Freedom's pure air ! 
 
 LESSON CXXYL 
 
 'Xerx' es, (ZerW es,) the celebrated Kini^ of Persia, was the son of 
 Darius. He succeeded his father, 485 B.C., and raised an army of 
 1,700,000 foot and 80,000 horse, besides camels, chariots, and ships 
 of war. While the Pass of Thermopylae was defended by Leonidas and 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 399 
 
 his Spartans, Themistocles rallied his countrymen, and defeated Xerxes 
 at the battle of Salamis, 480 B.C. (Refer to note in Fourth Reader.) 
 
 ' Grac' chus, Tiberius and Caius, two brothers, Roman tribunes, who 
 having urged the revival of the agrarian laws, which required a divis- 
 ion of the public lands among the people, were successively slain in a 
 tumult raised by the senators and nobles. The mother of the Gracchi 
 was Cornelia, the daughter of the famous Scipio Africanus, who 
 defeated Hannibal in the battle of Zama, and humbled the pride of 
 Carthage, at the close of the Second Punic War, 202 B.C. 
 
 * Her' MANN, or Arminius, a brave German patriot and soldier, who for 
 some time supported a bloody war against Rome, but was at last de- 
 feated by Germanicus, and subsequently poisoned through the treach- 
 ery of one of his friends, a.d. 19. 
 
 *Tell, William, was a peasant, born near Altorf, iff Switzerland, and 
 celebrated for his resistance to the tyranny of Gesler, an Austrian gov- 
 ernor. He was compelled to shoot an apple from his son's head for 
 refusing to bow to Gesler's hat elevated on a pole. Being a skillful 
 archer, he cleft the apple without injury to his son. 
 
 ^Spar'ta cus, a native of Thrace, became a soldier in the Roman army, 
 and, having deserted, was sold as a slave, and finally numbered with 
 the gladiators condemned to destroy each other for the amusement of 
 the people. Having made his escape, he collected a band of despe- 
 radoes, and, for a long time, bade defiance to the whole power of 
 Rome. He was at last, however, defeated by the Romans under Cras- 
 sus, 71 B.C. 
 
 •^Wat the Tyler. In the reign of Richard II., King of England, a poll- 
 tax of three groats was levied on each male and female above the age 
 of fifteen. The proceedings of the collectors of these taxes were of 
 the most inquisitorial character ; and their insults to the young women 
 became so odious, that they were resisted by the people. One Walter 
 the Tyler, having knocked a tax-gatherer on the head for insulting his 
 daughter, Avas made chief of the insurgents ; and hence the popular 
 rising of the people is known as Wat the Tyler's Rebellion. 
 
 «0N TO FREEDOM." 
 
 A. J. H. DUG ANNE. 
 
 N to Freedom ! on to Freedom ! " 
 'Tis tlie everlasting cry 
 Of the floods that strive with ocean, 
 Of the storm that smites the sky, 
 
 1...Q 
 
400 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Of the atoms in the whirlwindj 
 Of the seed beneath the ground, 
 
 Of each Hving thing in Nature 
 That is bound. 
 
 'Twas the cry that led from Egypt, ^ 
 Through the desert wilds of Edom, — 
 
 Out of darkness, out of bondage, — 
 '' On to Freedom ! on to Freedom I " 
 
 2. O thou stony-hearted Pharaoh, 
 
 Vainly warrest thou with God ! 
 Moveless at thy palace-portals, 
 
 Moses waits with lifted rod ! 
 O thou poor barbarian Xerxes,^ 
 
 Vainly o'er the Pontic main 
 Flino-est thou to curb its utterance 
 
 o 
 
 Scourge or chain ! 
 For the cry that led from Egypt, 
 
 Over desert wilds of Edom, 
 Speaks alike through Greek and Hebrew, 
 
 ''''On to Freedom! on to Freedom T'* 
 
 3. In the Roman streets, from Gracchus,^ 
 
 Hark ! I heai* that cry out-swell ; 
 In the German woods, from Hermann ;' 
 
 And on Switzer hills, from Tell^ ! 
 Up from Spartacus,^ the bondman, 
 
 When his tyrant's yoke he clave ; 
 And from stalwart Wat the Tyler,® 
 
 Saxon slave ! 
 Still the old, old cry of Egypt, 
 
 Struggling out from wilds of Edom, 
 Sounding down through all the ages, — 
 
 '-'-On to Freedom! on to Freedom!" 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 
 
 4. God's own mandate, — " On to Freedom ! " 
 
 Gospel-cry of laboring Time, 
 Uttering still, through seers and heroes, 
 
 Words of hope and faith sublime ! 
 From our Sidneys, and our Hampdens, 
 
 And our Washingtons, they come ; 
 And we can not, and we dare not, 
 
 Make them dumb ! 
 Out of all the shames of Egypt, 
 
 Out of all the snares of Edom, 
 Out of darkness, out'of bondage, — 
 
 ''O/i to Freedom! on to Freedom I " 
 
 401 
 
 LESSON CXXYII. 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE RETURNED SOLDIERS. 
 
 REV. J. M. MANNING. 
 
 SOLDIERS from the army and navy, once soldiers, but 
 now again citizens, we hail you to-day as our bene- 
 factors and deliverers. We welcome you home from the 
 fatigues of the march, the wearisome camp, and the awful 
 ecstasy of battle. Through four terrible years you have 
 looked without quailing on the ghastly visage of war. 
 You have patiently borne the heats of summer and the 
 frosts of winter. You have cheerfully exchanged the de- 
 lights of home for the hardships of the campaign or block- 
 ade. Not only the armed foe, but the wasting malaria, 
 has lurked along your resistless advance. 
 
 2. You know the agony and the transport of the deadly 
 encounter. How many times, standing each man at his 
 post, in the long line of gleaming sabers and bayonets, 
 26 
 
402 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 every hand clinched, and every eye distended, you have 
 caught the peal of your leader's clarion, and sprung 
 through the iron storm to the embrace of victory ! But 
 all that has passed away. The mangled forests are putting 
 on an unwonted verdure, the fields once blackened by the 
 fiery breath of war ai'e now covered with their softest 
 bloom, and the vessels of commerce are riding on all the 
 national waters. 
 
 3. The carnage, the groans, the cries for succor, the 
 fierce onset and sullen recoil, the thunders of the artillery, 
 and the missiles screaming like demons in the air, have 
 given way to paeans, civic processions, and songs of thanks- 
 giving. The flag of your country, so often rent and torn 
 in your grasp, and which you have borne in triumph again 
 and again, over the quaking earth, or through the hurri- 
 cane of death, on river and bay, rolls out its peaceful folds 
 above you, every star blazing with the glory of your deeds, 
 in token of a Nation's gratitude. We come forth to meet 
 you — sires and matrons, young men and maidens, chil- 
 dren and those bowed with age — to own the vast debt 
 which we can never pay, and to say, from full hearts, we 
 thank you ; God bless you ! 
 
 4. But while we thus address you, you are thinking of 
 the fallen. With a soldier's generosity, you wish they 
 could be here to share in this welcome. But they peace- 
 fully rest in the humble grave in which you laid them, and 
 their names are enshrined in the grateful remembrance of 
 the Nation. You may tarnish your laurels, or an envious 
 hand may pluck them from your brows. Bvit your fallen 
 comrades are exposed to no such accident. They are 
 doubly fortunate ; for the same event which crowned them 
 with honor, has placed them beyond the possibility of 
 losing their crown. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 403 
 
 6. Many of them died in the darkest hours of the re- 
 pubHc ; others m the early dawn of peace, while the morn- 
 ing-stars were singing together. But victory and defeat 
 make no differences among them now. They have all 
 conquered in the final triumph. Their names will thrill 
 the coming ages, as they are spoken by the tongues of the 
 eloquent ; and their deeds will forever be chanted by im- 
 mortal minstrels. 
 
 6. " By fairy hands their knell is iTing, 
 
 By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; 
 
 There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, 
 
 To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; 
 
 And Freedom shall awhile repair, 
 
 To dwell a weeping hermit there." 
 
 LESSON CXXVIII. 
 THE HONORED DEAD. 
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 HOW bright are the honors which await those who, 
 with sacred fortitude and patriotic patience, have en- 
 dured all things that they might save their native land 
 from division ! The honored dead ! They that die for 
 a good cause are redeemed from death. Their names are 
 gathered and garnered. Their memory is precious. Each 
 place grows proud for them who were born there. 
 
 2. There is to be, ere long, in every village, and in 
 every neighborhood, a glowing pride in its martyred he- 
 roes. Tablets shall preserve their names. Pious love 
 shall renew their inscriptions as time and the unfeeling 
 elements efface them. And the national festivals shall 
 give multitudes of precious names to the orator's lips. 
 
404 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Children shall grow up under more sacred inspirations, 
 whose elder brothers, dying nobly for their country, left a 
 name that honored and inspired all. who bore it. Orphan 
 children shall find thousands of fathers and mothers to love 
 and help those whom dying heroes left as a legacy to the 
 gratitude of the public. 
 
 3. Oh, tell me not that they are dead, — that generous 
 host, that airy army of invisible heroes ! They hover as 
 a cloud of witnesses above this nation. Are they dead that 
 yet speak louder than we can speak, and a more universal 
 language' ? Are they dead that yet act' ? Are they dead 
 that yet move upon society, and inspire the people with 
 nobler motives and more heroic patriotism'? 
 
 4. Ye that mourn, let gladness mingle with your tears. 
 He was your son ; but now he is the nation's. He made 
 your household bright ; now his example inspires a thou- 
 sand households. Dear to his brothers and sisters, he is 
 now brother to every generous youth in the land. Before^ 
 he was narrowed, appropriated, shut up to you. Now he is 
 augmented, set free, and given to alL He has died from 
 the family that he might live to the nation. Not one name 
 shall be forgotten or neglected ; and it shall, by and by, be 
 confessed of our modern heroes, as it is of an ancient hero, 
 that he did more for his country by his death than by his 
 whole life. 
 
 5. Neither are they less honored who shall bear through 
 life the marks of wounds and sufferings. Neither epaulet 
 nor badge is so honorable as wounds received in a good 
 cause. Many a man shall envy him who henceforth limps. 
 So strange is the transforming power of patriotic ardor, 
 that men shall almost covet disfigurement. Crowds will 
 give way to hobbling cripples, and uncover in the presence 
 of feebleness and helplessness. And buoyant children 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 405 
 
 shall pause in their noisy games, and with loving rever- 
 ence honor those whose hands can work no more, and 
 whose feet are no longer able to march except upon that 
 journey which brings good men to honor and immortality. 
 
 6. O mother of lost children ! set not in darkness nor 
 sorrow those whom a nation honors. O mourners of tlie 
 early dead ! they shall live again, and live forever. Your 
 sorrows are our gladness. The nation lives because you' 
 gave it men that loved it better than their own lives. And 
 when a few more days shall have cleared the perils from 
 around the Nation's brow, and she shall sit in unsullied 
 garments of liberty, with justice upon her forehead, love in 
 her eyes, and truth upon her lips, she shall not forget those 
 whose blood gave vital currents to her heart, and whose 
 life, given to her, shall Hve with her hfe till time shall be 
 no more. 
 
 7. Every mountain and hill shall have its treasured 
 name, every river shall keep some solemn title, every val- 
 ley and every lake shall cherish its honored register ; and 
 till the mountains are w^oni out, and the rivers forget to 
 flow, till the clouds are weary of replenishing springs, and 
 the springs forget to gush, and the rills to sing, shall their 
 names be kept fresh with reverent honors which are in- 
 scribed upon the book of National Remembrance. 
 
 LESSON CXXIX 
 
 * Tat too', a beat of drum at night, giving notice to soldiers to retreat, or 
 to repair to their quarters in garrison, or to their tents in camp. 
 
 'Biv'ocAC, [hiv' wdk,) the guard or watch of a whole army, as in cases of 
 great danger of surprise or attack ; an encampment without tents or 
 covering. 
 
 The following poem was written on the occasion of the removal to the 
 cemetery at Fraifkfort of the remains of Kentucky soldiers who fell at 
 Buena Vista, Mexico. 
 
406 SAKDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S DIRGE. 
 
 COL. O'HAKA. 
 
 1. rTHE muffled drum's sad roll has beat 
 
 I The soldier's last tattoo^ ; 
 No more on life's parade shall meet 
 
 That brave and fallen few. 
 On Fame's eternal camping-ground 
 
 Their silent tents are spread ; 
 And glory guards with solemn round 
 
 The bivouac^ of the dead. 
 
 2. No rumor of the foe's advance 
 
 Now swells upon the wind ; 
 ^ No troubled thoughts, at midnight haunts, 
 
 Of loved ones left behind ; 
 No vision of the morrow's strife 
 
 The warrior's dream alarms ; 
 No braying horn, nor screaming fife, 
 
 At dawn shall call to arms. 
 
 3. Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead, 
 
 Dear as the blood ye gave ; 
 No impious footstep here shall tread 
 
 The herbage of your grave. 
 Nor shall your glory be forgot, 
 
 While Fame her record keeps, 
 Or Honor points the hallowed spot 
 
 Where valor proudly sleeps. 
 
   4. Yon faithful herald's blazoned stone 
 With mournful pride shall tell, 
 When many a vanished age hath flown, 
 The story how ye fell. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 407 
 
 Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's flight, 
 
 Nor time's remorseless doom. 
 Shall mar one ray of glory's light 
 
 That gilds your deathless tomb. 
 
 LESSON CXXX. 
 THE WIDOWED SWORD. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 THEY have sent me the sword that my brave boy 
 wore 
 On the field of his young renown, — 
 On the last red field, where his faith was sealed, 
 And the sun of his days went down. 
 Away with the tears 
 
 That are blinding me so ! 
 There is joy in his years. 
 
 Though his young head be low : 
 And I'll gaze with a solemn delight, evermore, 
 On the sword that my brave boy wore. 
 
 'Twas for Freedom and Home that I gave him away, 
 
 Like the sons of his race of old ; 
 And though, aged and gray, I am childless this day, 
 He is dearer a thousand-fold. 
 There's glory above him 
 
 To hallow his name ; 
 A land that will love him 
 Who died for its fame ; 
 And a solace will shine, when my old heart is sore, 
 Round the sword that my brave boy wore. 
 
408 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 3. All SO noble, so true, — how they stood, How they fell, 
 
 In the battle, the plague, and the cold ! 
 Oh, as bravely and well as e'er story could tell 
 Of the flower of the heroes of old ! 
 Like a sword tlirouo;h the foe 
 
 Was that fearful attack 
 
 That, so bright ere the blow, 
 
 Comes so bloodily back ; 
 
 And, foremost among them, his colors he bore ; 
 
 And here is the sword that my brave boy wore. 
 
 4. It was kind of his comrades, ye know not how kind ; 
 
 It is more than the Indies to me ; 
 Ye know not how kind and how steadfast of mind 
 The soldier to sorrow can be. 
 
 They know well how lonely, 
 
 How grievously wrung, 
 Is the heart that its only 
 Love loses so young ; 
 And they closed his dark eyes when the battle was o'er, 
 And sent his old father the sword that he wore. 
 
 LESSOISr CXXXL 
 "GOOD-BY, OLD ARM, GOOD-BY!'* 
 
 GEORGE COOPER. 
 
 The incident, so pathetically described in this short poem, took place in 
 one of our hospitals during the war. The piece should be read in a low 
 and plaintive tone of voice. 
 
 1. rpHE knife was still, — the surgeon bore 
 X The shattered arm away ; 
 Upon his bed, in painless sleep, 
 The noble hero lay ; 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 409 
 
 He woke, but saw the vacant place 
 
 Where limb of his liad Iain, 
 Then faintly spoke, — " Oh, let me see 
 
 My strong right arm again ! " 
 
 2. " Good-by, old arm ! '* the soldier said, 
 
 As he clasped the fingers cold ; 
 And down his pale but manly cheeks 
 
 The tear-drops gently rolled : 
 " My strong right arm, no deed of yours 
 
 Now gives me cause to sigh ; 
 But it's hard to part such trusty friends : 
 
 Good-by, old arm ! good-by ! 
 
 3. " You've served me well these many yeare, 
 
 In sunlight and in shade ; 
 But, comrade, we have done with war, — 
 
 Let dreams of glory fade. 
 You'll never more my saber swing 
 
 In battle fierce and hot ; 
 You'll never bear another flag, 
 
 Or fire another shot. 
 
 4. I do not mourn to lose you now 
 
 For home and native land : 
 Oh, proud am I to give my mite 
 
 For freedom pure and grand ! 
 Thank God ! no selfish thought is mine 
 
 While here I bleediuii He : 
 Bear, bear it tenderly away, — 
 
 Good-by, old arm ! good-by I " 
 
 18 
 
410 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 ' LESSON CXXXIX 
 
 ' CiR CCM VAL la' TiON, {ciRCUM, around ; vallat, to wall, from xxTj- 
 LUM, rampart; ion, the act of,) the act of surrounding with a wall or 
 rampart. 
 
 THE TEACHER, THE HOPE OF AMERICA. 
 
 SAMUEL EELLS, 1837. 
 
 rriHE patriot wlio contemplates the vastness of this repub- 
 JL lie, and the diversified and conflicting interests of its 
 entire population, can not but regard its future welfare 
 with the deepest solicitude. Look abroad over this Coun- 
 try; mark her extent, her wealth, her fertility, her bound- 
 less resources, the giant energies which every day develops, 
 and which she seems already bending on that fatal race, — 
 tempting, yet always fatal to republics, — the race for 
 physical greatness and aggrandizement. 
 
 2. Behold, too, that continuous and mighty tide of popu- 
 lation, native and foreign, which is forever rushing through 
 the great valley toward the setting sun ; sweeping away 
 the wilderness before it like grass before the mower ; wak- 
 ing up industry and civilization in its progress ; studding 
 the solitary rivers of the TVest with marts and cities ; dot- 
 ting its boundless prairies with human habitations ; pene- 
 trating every green nook and vale ; climbing every fertile 
 ridge ; and still gathering and pouring onward, to form 
 new States in those vast and yet unpeopled solitudes 
 where the Oregon rolls his majestic flood, and 
 
 " Hears no sound saA'c his own dashing." 
 
 3. Mark all this, and then say by what bonds will yon 
 hold together so mighty a people and so immense an 
 empire ? What safeguard will you give us against the 
 dangers which must inevitably grow out of so vast and 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 411 
 
 complicate an organization ? In the swelling tide of our 
 prosperity, what a field will open for political corruption I 
 What a world of evil passions to control, and jarring in- 
 terests to- reconcile I What temptations will there be to 
 luxury and extravagance 1 What motives to private and 
 official cupidity ! What prizes will hang glittering at a 
 thousand goals, to dazzle and tempt ambition ! 
 
 4. Do we expect to find our security against these dan- 
 gers in railroads and canals, in our circumvallations,^ and 
 ships of war ? Alas ! when shall we learn wisdom from 
 the lessons of history ? Our most dangerous enemies ivill 
 groio up from our oivn bosom. We may erect bulwarks 
 against foreign invasion ; but what power shall we find in 
 walls and armies to protect the people against themselves ? 
 There is but one sort of ''internal improvement" — more 
 thoroughly internal than that which is lauded by politicians 
 — that is able to save this country. I mean the improve- 
 ment of the minds and souls- of her jjeojjle, 
 
 5. If this improvement shall be neglected, and shall fail 
 to keep pace with the increase of our population and oui 
 physical advancement, one of two alternatives is certain : 
 either the nation must dissolve in anarchy, under the rulers 
 of its own choice; or, if held together at all, it must be by 
 a government so strong and rigorous as to be utterly incon- 
 sistent with constitutional liberty. Let the hundreds of 
 millions which, at no very distant day, will swarm in our 
 cities, and fill up our great interior, remain sunk in igno- 
 rance and vice, and nothing short of an iron despotism will 
 vSufRce to govern the nation, — to reconcile its vast and 
 conflicting interests, control its elements of agitation, and 
 hold back its fiery and headlong energies from dismember- 
 ment and ruin. 
 
 6. How, then, is this improvement to be effected ? Who 
 
412 SANDEKS' UNION SEPJES. 
 
 are the agents of it ? Who are they who shall stand per- 
 petually as priests at the altar of Freedom, and feed its 
 sacred fires by dispensing that knowledge and cultivation 
 on which hangs our political salvation ? They are the 
 TEACHERS of our schools, the instructors in our academies 
 and colleges, arid in all those institutions, of whatever name, 
 which Jiave for their object the intellectual and moral cul- 
 ture of our youth, and the division of knowledge among 
 our people. 
 
 7. Theirs is the moral dignity of stamping the great 
 features of our national character, and, in the moral worth 
 and intelligence which they give it, of erecting a bulwark 
 which shall prove impregnable in that hour of trial, when 
 armies, and fleets, and fortifications shall be vain. And 
 when those mighty and all-absorbing questions shall be 
 heard, which are even now sending their bold demands 
 into the ear of rulers and lawgivers, which are momenta- 
 rily pressing forward to a solemn decision in the sight of 
 God and of all nations, and which, when the hour of their 
 decision shall come, will shake this country — the Union, 
 the Constitution — as with the shaking of an earthquake, 
   — it is they who, in that fearful hour, will gather around 
 the structure of our political organization, and, with up- 
 lifted hands, stay the reeling fabric till the storm and the 
 convulsion be overpast. 
 
 LESso:Nr cxxxiii. 
 
 TRUE GLOKY OF A NATION. 
 
 BISHOP WHIPPLE. 
 
 THE true glory of a nation is in an intelligent, honest, 
 industrious Christian people. The civilization of a 
 people depends on their individual character ; and a con- 
 
CTNIOIT FIFTH READER. 413 
 
 stitution which is not the outgrowth of this character, is 
 not worth the parchment on which it is written. You look 
 in vain in the past for a single instance where the people 
 have preserved their liberties after their individual charac- 
 ter was lost. 
 
 2. It is not in the magnificence of its palaces, not in the 
 beautiful creations of art lavished on its pubhc edifices, not 
 in costly libraries and galleries of pictures, not in the 
 number or wealth of its cities, that we find pledges of a na- 
 tion's glory. The ruler may gather around him the treas- 
 ures of the world, amid a brutaHzed people ; the senate- 
 chamber may retain its faultless proportions long after the 
 voice of patriotism is hushed within its walls ; the monu- 
 mental marble may commemorate, a glory which has for- 
 ever departed. Art and letters may bring no lesson to a 
 people whose heart is dead. 
 
 3. The true glory of a nation is in the living temple of a 
 loyal^ industrious, and upright people. The busy click of 
 machinery, the merry ring of the anvil, the lowing of 
 peaceful herds, and the song of the harvest-home, are 
 sweeter music than paeans of departed glory, or songs of 
 triumph in war. The vine-clad cottage of the hillside, 
 the cabin of the woodsman, and the rural home of the 
 farmer, are the true citadels of any country. There is 
 a dignity in honest toil, which belongs not to the display 
 of wealth or the luxury of fashion. The man who drives 
 the plow, or swings his ax in the forest, or with cunning 
 fingers plies the tools of his craft, is as truly the servant of 
 his country as the statesman in tjie senate or the soldier 
 in battle. 
 
 4. The safety of a nation depends not alone on the wis- 
 dom of its statesmen or the bravery of its generals. The 
 tongue of eloquence never saved a nation tottering to its 
 
414 SANDERS' CTNIOISr SERIES. 
 
 fall ; the sword of a warrior never stayed its destruction. 
 There is a surer defense in every Cliristian home. I know 
 of no right wrung from tyranny, no truth resciled from 
 darkness and bigotry, which has not waited on a Christian 
 civilization. 
 
 5. Would you see the image of true glory, I would show 
 you villages where the crown and glory of the people was 
 in Christian schools, where the voice of prayer goes heaven- 
 ward, where the people have that most priceless gift, — 
 faith m God» With this as the basis, and leavened as it 
 will be with brotherly love, there will be no danger in 
 grappling with any evils which exist in our midst : we 
 shall feel that we may work and bide our time, and die, 
 knowing that God will bring victory. 
 
 LESSON CXXXIY. 
 
 *Dead Sea Fruits, or Apples of Sodom, a fruit described' by ancient 
 writers as externally of fair appearance, but dissolving into smoke and 
 ashes when plucked. It resembles an orange in size and color, but ex- 
 plodes on being touched. It has a bitt6r taste. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF LIFE. 
 
 ANNE C. LYNCH. 
 
 1. rpHERE are countless fields, the green earth o'er, 
 X Where the verdant turf has been dyed with gore . 
 Where hostile ranks, in their grim array, 
 With the battle's smoke have obscured the day ; 
 Where hate was stamped on each rigid face, 
 As foe met foe in the death-embrace ; 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 415 
 
 Where the groans of the wounded and dying rose 
 
 Till the heart of the listener with horror froze ; 
 
 And the wide expanse of crimsoned plain 
 
 Was j)iled with heaps of uncounted slain : 
 
 But a fiercer combat^ a deadlier strife^ 
 
 Is that which is waged in the Battle of Life. 
 
 The hero that wars on the tented field, 
 With his shining sword and his burnished shield, 
 Goes 7iot alone with his faithful brand, — 
 Friends and comrades around him stand ; 
 The trumpets sound, and the war-steeds neigh 
 To join in the shock of the coming fray ; 
 And he flies to the onset, he charges the foe. 
 Where the bayonets gleam and the red tides flow ; 
 And he beai*s his part in that conflict dire 
 With an arm all nerve and a heart all fire. 
 
 What though he fall ? At the battle's close, 
 In the flush of victory won, he goes 
 With martial music, and waving plume. 
 From a field of fame to a laureled tomb ! 
 But the hero that wars in the Battle of Life 
 Must stand alone in the fearful strife, — 
 Alone in his weakness or strength must go. 
 Hero or coward, to meet the foe : 
 He may not fly ; on that fatal field 
 He must win or lose, he must conquer or yield. 
 
 Warrior, who com'st to this battle now 
 With a careless step and a thoughtless brow, 
 As if the day were already won. 
 Pause, and gird all thy armor on ! 
 
416 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Dost tilou brin<r with thee hither a dauntless will. 
 An ardent soul that no fear can chilF ? 
 Thy shield of Faith hast thou tried and proved' ? 
 Canst thou say to the mountain, "Be thou removed'"? 
 In thy hand does the sword of Truth flame bright' ? 
 Is thy banner inscribed " for God and the Right' " ? 
 In the might of prayer dost thou wrestle and plead'? 
 Never had warrior greater need ! 
 
 5. Unseen foes in thy pathway hide ; 
 Thou art encompassed on every side : 
 There Pleasure waits with her siren train, 
 Her poison flowers and her hidden chain ; 
 Flattery courts with her hollow smiles, 
 Passion with silvery tongue beguiles. 
 
 Love and Friendship their charmed spells weave : 
 Trust not too deeply ; they may deceive ! 
 
 6. Hope with her Dead Sea fruits' is there; 
 Sin is spreading her gilded snare ; 
 Disease with a mthless hand would smite, 
 And Care spread o'er thee her withering blight ; 
 Hate and Envy with visage black, 
 
 And the serpent Slander, are on thy track ; 
 Falsehood and Guilt, Remorse and Pride, 
 Doubt and Despair, in thy pathway glide ; 
 Haggard Want, in her demon joy, 
 Waits to degrade thee, and then destroy ; 
 And Death, the insatiate, is hovering near 
 To snatch from thy grasp all thou boldest dear. 
 
 7. In war with these phantoms that gird thee round. 
 No hmbs dissevered may strew the ground ; 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 417 
 
 No blood may flow, and no mortal ear 
 
 The groans of the wounded heart may hear, 
 
 As it strusirles and writhes in their dread control, 
 
 As the iron enters the riven soul. 
 
 But the youthful form grows wasted and weak, 
 
 And sunken and wan is the rounded cheek ; 
 
 The brow is furrowed, but not with years ; 
 
 The eye is dimmed with its secret tears ; 
 
 And streaked with white is the raven hair, — 
 
 These are the tokens of conflict there. 
 
 The battle is ended : tlie hero goes 
 
 Worn and scarred to his last repose. 
 
 He has won the day, he lias conquered doom, 
 
 He has sunk unknown to his nameless tomb. 
 
 For the victor's glory no voice may plead. 
 
 Fame has no echo, and earth no meed. 
 
 But the guardian angels are hovering near ; 
 
 They have watched unseen o'er the conflict here : 
 
 They bear him now on their wings away 
 
 To a realm of peace, to a cloudless day. 
 
 Ended now is his earthly strife. 
 
 And his brow is crowned with the Crown of Life ! 
 
 • ' LESSON CXXXY. 
 THE HISTORIAN'S REFLECTIONS. 
 
 BLAKE. 
 
 rPHROUGH the long period of five thousand years, the 
 A. eye of the historian wanders among innumerable mill- 
 ions, and descries peoples, nations, and languages, who 
 27 
 
418 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 were once active in the busy scenes of time, but are now 
 reaping the retributions of eternity. The great nations 
 which enjoyed universal empire, are now silent in the 
 dust. And, as objects subtend a less angle in proportion 
 to their distance, so a century, buried deep m the vale of 
 antiquity, appears but as an hour, and the duration of a 
 nation but as a day. 
 
 2. In the morning its infancy is weak, and its chief de- 
 fense is in its obscurity or insignificance, or in the weak- 
 ness of others. It gathers strength by adversity, and at 
 length acquires a vigorous youth. At mid-day it acquires 
 a strong and lofty attitude ; it basks for an hour in the 
 beams of prosperity, and drinks deep the inebriating 
 draughty of luxury and pleasure. And now its beauty 
 fades, its strength decays, its glory perishes, and the de- 
 clining day hastens a night of storms, and clouds, and 
 everlasting darkness. 
 
 3. The nations of men resemble the perpetually rolling 
 and conflicting waves of the ocean. If a billow rise high, 
 it is but to sink as low ; if it dash its neighboring billow, it 
 is but to be dashed in its turn ; if it rage and foam, it is 
 but to exhaust itself the sooner ; if it roll tranquilly on the 
 bosom of the deep, it is but to sink forever by its own 
 gravity. It is thus with all nations, with all human insti- 
 tutions, and with all the noblest inventions and works of 
 art. 
 
 " The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
 Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve, 
 And, like the baseless fabric of a vision, 
 Leave not a wreck behind." 
 
 4. And alas ! the ravages of time, though rapid and re- 
 sistless, are too slow to satisfy the furious rage of restless 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 419 
 
 mortals ! They must share tlie empire of destruction. 
 To them the work of deatli is most pleasant ; and to culti- 
 vate the art of killing and destroying has been their chief 
 pride and glory in all ages, though, while employed in that 
 dreadful work, they sink in destruction themselves. Un- 
 happy chiklren of men ! When will you learn to know 
 and prize your true interest? When will you be con- 
 vinced of that, than which nothing is more certain, that 
 war adds infinitely to the number and weight of your 
 cala'mities ? that it fills the world with misery, and clothes 
 all nature in mourning ? 
 
 5. Shall brotherly love and cordial affection never be- 
 come universal, and Peace never wave her white banner 
 throughout the earth'? Is there no durable institution, 
 founded in virtue, and permanent as the eternal rules of 
 justice' ? Is there no firm ground of hope ? no rock, on 
 which truth and reason may build a fabric that shall never 
 fair? Yes ; there is a kingdom : its foundations" were laid 
 of old; its King is the God. of Heaven; its law is perfect 
 love ; its dominions are wide, for they extend to the wise 
 and virtuous in all woi'lds ; all its subjects are safe, for they 
 are defended by almighty power ; and they shall rise to 
 eternal prosperity and glory, when all earthly kingdoms 
 shall vanish like a shadow or a dream. . * 
 
 6. There is an unseen Hand which guides the affairs of 
 nations. Throughout all their chanojes and revolutions, 
 through the seemingly dark and troubled chaos of human 
 concerns, an almighty Providence overrules ; and all events, 
 past, present, and to come, are employed in directing and 
 completing the destinies of all creatures, in subserviency 
 to that infinitely great and glorious kingdom which shall 
 never be removed. 
 
420 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON CXXXVI. 
 
 * How' ARI>. See note, page 108. 
 
 * Fry, Mrs. Elizabeth, whose maiden name Avas Gurney, was bom at 
 
 Earlham, England, in 1780, and died 1844. The benevolence of her 
 disposition early displayed itself by visiting the poor, and establishing 
 schools for the education of their children. Every day she was found 
 visiting charity-schools, in the houses and lanes of the poor, and in the 
 wards of sick-hospitals. She also extended her benevolent attentions 
 to the inmates of prisons and lunatic-asylums. She visited all the prin- 
 cipal jails in Scotland, Ireland, France, Holland, Denmark, and Prus- 
 sia; and her last scheme of philanthropy was begun with a \icr\v to 
 benefit British seamen. Her death was lamented throughout Europe 
 as a loss to humanity. 
 
 TRUE REFORMERS. 
 
 HORACE GREELEY. 
 
 TO the rightly constituted mind, to the truly developed 
 man, there always is, there always must be, opportu- 
 nity, — opportunity to be and to learn, nobly to do and to 
 endure ; and what matter whether with pomp and eclat., 
 with sound of trumpets and shout of applauding thousands, 
 or in silence and seclusion, beneath the calm, disceniinggaze 
 of Heaven ? No station can be humble on which that gaze 
 is approvingly bent ; no work can be ignoble which is per- 
 formed uprightly, and not impelled by sordid and selfish aims. 
 2. Not from among the children of monarchs, ushered 
 into being with boom of cannon, and shouts of reveling 
 millions, but from amid the sons of obscurity and toil, 
 cradled in peril and ignominy, from the bulrushes and the 
 manger, come forth the benefactors and saviors of man- 
 kind. So, when all the babble and glare of our age shall 
 have passed into a fitting oblivion ; when those who have 
 enjoyed rare opportunities, and swayed vast empires, and 
 heen borne through life on the shoulders of shouting mul- 
 titudes, shall have been laid at last to rest in golden coffins. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 421 
 
 to molder forgotten, the stately marble their only monu- 
 ments, it will be found that some humble youth, who 
 neither inherited nor found, but hewed out his opportuni- 
 ties^ has uttered the thought which shall render the age 
 memorable, by extending the means of enlightenment and 
 blessing to our race. 
 
 3. The great struggle for human progress and elevation 
 proceeds noiselessly, often unnoted, often checked, and ap- 
 parently baffled, amid the clamorous and debasing strifes 
 impelled by greedy selfishness and low ambition. In that 
 struggle, maintained by the wise and good of all parties, 
 all creeds, all climes, bear ye the part of men. Heed the 
 lofty summons, and, with souls serene and constant, pre- 
 pare to tread boldly in the path of highest duty. So shall 
 life be to you truly exalted and heroic ; so shall death be a 
 transition neither sought nor dreaded ; so shall your mem- 
 ory, though cherished at first but by a few humble, loving 
 hearts, linger long and gratefully in human remembrance, 
 a watchword to the truthful, and an incitement to gener- 
 ous endeavor, freshened by the proud tears of admiring 
 affection, and fragrant with the odors of heaven ! . . . 
 
 4. We need a loftier ideal to nerve us for heroic lives. 
 To know and feel our nothingness, without regretting it ; 
 to deem fame, riches, personal happiness, but shadows, of 
 which human good is the substance ; to welcome pain, 
 privation, ignominy, so that the sphere of human knowl- 
 edge, the empire of virtue, be thereby extended, — such is 
 the soul's temper in which the heroes of the coming age 
 shall be cast. When the stately monuments of mightiest 
 conquerors shall have become shapeless and forgotten ruins, 
 the humble graves of earth's Howards^ and Frys^ shall still 
 be freshened by the tears of fondly admiring millions, and 
 the proudest epitaph shall be the simple entreaty, — 
 
 '* Write me as one who loved his fellow-men." 
 
422 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. Say not that I thus condemn, and would annihilate, 
 ambition. The love of approbation, of esteem, of true 
 glory, is a noble incentive, and should be cherished to the 
 end. True fame demands no sacrifices of others ; it re- 
 quires us to be reckless of the outward well-being of but 
 one. It exacts no hecatomb of victims for each triumphal 
 pile ; for tlie more who covet and seek it, the easier and 
 more abundant is the success of each and all. With souls 
 of the celestial temper, each human life might be a triumph 
 which angels would lean from the skies, delighted to wit- 
 ness and admire. 
 
 LESSON CXXXYII. 
 
 *Fred'er ick it., King of Prussia, commonly called Frederick the Great, 
 was born Jan. 24, 1712, and began to reign 1740. He found himself 
 in possession of a full treasury and a powerful army, which he soon 
 employed in attacking Austria-, and conquering from her the province 
 of Silesia. The great struggle of the Seven- Years' War was begun in 
 1756. Prussia was now attacked by Austria, Russia, France, Saxony, 
 and Sweden ; and her destruction and dismemberment seemed inevita- 
 ble. England was her only ally. Prussia went through the struggle, 
 and came out triumphant. For this glorious result, she was indebted to 
 the moral courage, indomitable energy, and military genius, of her king 
 In 1772, Frederick disgraced himself, and permanently injured the cause 
 of Freedom throughout the world, by participating in the first dismem- 
 berment of Poland. Frederick died Aug. 17, 1786. 
 
 *MoNT E zu' MA, Emperor of Mexico at the time of the Spanish invasion. 
 
 UNJUST NATIONAL ACQUISITIONS. 
 
 THOMAS CORWIN. 
 
 MR. PRESIDENT, — The uneasy desire to augment 
 our territory has depraved tlie moral sense, and 
 blighted the otherwise keen sagacity, of our people. Sad, 
 very sad, are the lessons which Time has written for us. 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 423 
 
 Through and in them all, I see nothing but the inflexible 
 execution of that old law, which ordains, as eternal, the 
 cardinal rule, " Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's goods, 
 nor any thing which is his." Since I have lately heard so 
 much about the dismemberment of Mexico, I have looked 
 back to see how, in the course of events which some call 
 " Providence," it has fared with other nations who engaged 
 in this work of dismemberment. 
 
 2. I see that, in the latter half of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, three powerful nations — Russia, Austria, and Prus- 
 sia — united in the dismemberment of Poland. They said, 
 too, as you say, — '^ It is our destiny." They *' wanted 
 room." Doubtless each of these thought, with his share 
 of Poland, his power was too strong ever to fear invasion, 
 or even insult. One had his California, another his New 
 Mexico, and the third his Vera Cruz.* 
 
 3. Did they remain untouched, and incapable of harm ? 
 Alas ! no ; far, very far, from it. Retributive justice must 
 fulfill its destiny too. A very few years pass off, and we 
 hear of a new man, a Corsican lieutenant, the self-named, 
 ''armed soldier of Democracy," Napoleon. He ravages 
 Austria, covers her land with blood, drives the Northern 
 Caesar from his capital, and sleeps in his palace. Austria 
 may now remember how her power trampled upon Poland. 
 Did she not pay dear, very dear, for her California' ? 
 
 4. But has Prussia no atonement to make ? You see 
 this same Napoleon, the blind instrument of providence, 
 at work there. The thunders of his cannon at Jenaf pro- 
 claim the work of retribution for Poland's wron^rs ; and 
 the successors of the Great Frederick,^ the drill-serireant 
 of Europe, are seen flying across the sandy plains that sur- 
 
 * Pronounced Va' ra kroos. t Gen' a. 
 
424 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 round their capital, right gjad if they may escape captivity 
 or death. 
 
 5. But how fares it with the Autocrat of Russia ? Is he 
 secure in his share of the spoils of Poland' ? No : sud- 
 denly we see six hundred thousand armed men marching 
 to Moscow. Does his Vera Cruz protect liim now' ? Far 
 from it. Blood, slaughter, devastation, spread abroad over 
 the land ; and, finally, the conflagration of the old com- 
 mercial metropolis of Russia closes the retribution : she 
 must pay for her share in the dismemberment of her im- 
 potent neighbor. 
 
 6. A mind more prone to look for the judgments of 
 Heaven in the doings of men than mine, can not fail, in all 
 unjust acquisitions of territory, to see the Providence of 
 God. When Moscow burned, it seemed as if the earth 
 was lighted up, that the nations might behold the scene. 
 As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved and rolled 
 upward, and yet higher, till its flames licked the stars, and 
 fired the whole heavens, it did seem as though the God of 
 nations was writing, in characters of flame, on the front 
 of His throne, that doom that* shall fall upon the strong 
 nation which tramples in scorn upon the weak. 
 
 7. And what fortune awaits him, the appointed executor 
 of this work, when it was all done ? He, too, conceived 
 the notion that his destiny pointed onward to universal 
 dominion. France was too small : Europe, he thought, 
 should bow down before him. But as soon as this idea 
 takes possession of his soul, he, too, becomes powerless. 
 Right there, while he witnessed- the humiliation, and 
 doubtless meditated the subjugation, of Russia, He who 
 holds the winds in His fist, gathered the snows of the 
 North, and blew them upon his six hundred thousand men. 
 They fled, — they froze, — they perished. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 425 
 
 8. And now the miglity Napoleon, who had resolved on 
 universal dominion, he^ too, is summoned to answer for the 
 violation of that ancient law, " Thou shalt not covet any 
 thing which is thy neighbor's." " How are the miglity 
 fallen ! " He, beneath whose proud footstep Europe trem- 
 bled, is now an exile at Elba, and now, finally, a pris- 
 oner on the rock of St. Helena ; and there, on a barren 
 island, in an unfrequented sea, in the crater of an extin- 
 guished volcano, — there is the death-bed of the mighty 
 conqueror. All his annexations have come to that ! His 
 last hour has now come ; and he^ the man of destiny, he 
 who had rocked the world as with the throes of an earth- 
 quake, is now powerless, still, — even as the beggar, so he 
 died. 
 
 9. On the wings of a tempest that raged with unwonted 
 fury, up to the throne of the only Power that controlled 
 him while he lived, went the fiery soul of that wonderful 
 warrior, another witness to the existence of that eternal 
 decree, that they who do not rule in righteousness shall per- 
 ish from the earth. He has found *' room" at last. And 
 France — s7ie, too, has found "room." Her "eagles" now 
 no longer scream along the banks of the Danube, the 
 Po, and the Borys'thenes. They have returned home, to 
 their old aerie, between the Alps, the Khine, and the 
 Pyrenees. 
 
 10. So shall it be with yours. You may carry them 
 to the loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras ; they may wave, 
 with insolent triumph, in the halls of the Montezumas,'^ — 
 the armed men of Mexico may quail before them : but the 
 weakest hand in Mexico, uplifted in prayer to the God of 
 justice, may call down against you a Power, in the presence 
 of which the iron hearts of your warriors shall be turned 
 into ashes. 
 
426 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON CXXXVIII. 
 
 VANITY OF EARTHLY TREASURES. 
 
 ANON. 
 
 1. "[/"NEEL not, O friend of mine ! before a shrine 
 JLV That bears the impress of humanity ; 
 Have thou no idol, lest those hopes of thine 
 
 Prove but false lights upon a treacherous sea. 
 Know'st thou that clouds freighted with storm and rain 
 Will overspread with darkest gloom again 
 
 Yon azure sky'? 
 Know'st thou that rose that blooms beside thy door 
 . Will waste upon the gale its^ fragrant store, 
 I And fade and die' ? 
 
 Know also that the loved and tried for years. 
 The cynosure of all thy hopes and fears, 
 May pass thee by. 
 
 2. Maiden ! upon whose fair, unclouded brow, 
 
 Half hid by many a curl of clustering hair, 
 I mark the buds of promise bursting now, 
 
 Unmingled with a thouglit of future care, — • 
 Thou for whose sake the bridal wreath is made. 
 For Avhom the rose, in spotless white arrayed. 
 
 Expands its leaf, — 
 Oh ! let me teach thee, as a sister may, 
 A lesson thou shouldst bear in mind alway, — 
 
 That life is brief; 
 That bridal flowers have decked the silent bier, 
 And smiles of joy been melted with the tear 
 
 Of burning grief. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADtlR. ^ 427 
 
 3 Mother ! who gazes with a mother's joy, 
 
 And all a mother's changeless love and pride, 
 Upon the noble forehead of thy boy, 
 
 Who stands in childish beauty by thy side, 
 And, gazing through the mists of coming time, 
 Beholds him standing in the verdant prime 
 
 Of manhood's day, — 
 I warn thee ! build no castles in the air : 
 That form, so full of life, so matchless fair, 
 
 Is only clay ; 
 That bud, just bursting to a perfect flower. 
 May, like the treasures of thy garden bower, 
 Soon pass away. 
 
 4. Father ! whose days, though in " the yellow leaf," 
 Have golden tints from life's rich sunset thrown ; 
 Whose heart, a stranger to the pangs of grief, • 
 
 Still suns itself within the loves of home ; 
 Who, with thy dear companion by thy side. 
 Hast felt thy bark adown life's current glide 
 
 With peaceful breeze, — 
 Burn thou no incense here ! hast thou not seen 
 The forest change its summer robe of green 
 
 For leafless trees' ? 
 Believe me, all who breathe the vital breath 
 Are subjects to the laws of life and death ; 
 . And so are these. 
 
 5 Ah, yes ! beneath the church-yard's grassy mound 
 Too many an early-smitten idol lies, 
 Too many a star of promise has gone down 
 The soul's horizon, never more to rise. 
 
428 ^ SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 For thou to safely rear thy temple here. 
 
 And fancy, while the storm-cloud hovers near. 
 
 It stands secure. 
 Oh ! trust it not ; that flash of brilliant light 
 Will only from the thorny path of night 
 
 Thy steps aUure ; 
 One Arm, that never fails, that never tires. 
 That moves in harmony the heavenly choirs, 
 
 Alone is sure. 
 
 6. Be this thy spirit's anchor, — that when all 
 
 Most near and dear to thee shall pass away, 
 When pride, and power, and human hope, shall fall, 
 
 A faith in God shall be thy shield and stiiy. 
 Lay up thy treasures where the hand of Time, 
 The storms and changes of this fickle clime, 
 
 Shall seek in vain ; 
 •Where the bright dreams of youth shall know no blight, 
 The days of love and joy no starless night, 
 
 And life no pain ; 
 And where thou yet shalt find, when cares are o'er. 
 The loved and lost ones who have gone before 
 Are thine again. 
 
 w 
 
 LESSON CXXXIX. 
 
 CHOICE EXTRACTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S TWO MITES. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 HAT more tender, more solemnly affecting, more 
 profoundly pathetic, than this charity, — this offer- 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 429 
 
 ing to God of a farthing I We know nothing of her 
 name, her family, or lier tribe. We only know that she 
 was a poor woman, and a widow, of whom there is nothing 
 left upon record but this sublimely simple story ; that, 
 when the rich men came to cast their proud offerings into 
 the treasury, this poor woman came also, and cast in her 
 two mites, which made a farthing. 
 
 2. And the example, thus made the subject of Divine 
 commendation, has been read, and told, and has gone 
 abroad everywhere, and sunk deep into a hundred million 
 of hearts, since the commencement of the Christian era, 
 and has done more good than could be accomplished by a 
 thousand marble palaces ; because it was charity mingled 
 with true benevolence^ given in the fear, the love, the ser- 
 vice, and the honor of God. 
 
 THE HONEY-BEE. 
 
 The honey-bee that wanders all day long 
 The field, the woodland, and the garden o'er, 
 To gather in his fragrant winter-store, 
 Humming in calm content his quiet song, 
 Sucks not alone the rose's glowing breast, 
 The lily's dainty cup, the violet's lips ; 
 But from all rank and noisome weeds he sips 
 The single drop of sweetness ever pressed 
 Within the poison chalice. Thus, if we 
 Seek only to draw forth the hidden sweet 
 In all the varied human flowers we meet 
 In the wide garden of Humanity, 
 And, like the bee, if home the spoil we bear, ' 
 Hived in our hearts, it turns to nectar there. 
 
430 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 III. 
 VIRTUE. 
 
 COLTON. 
 
 1. There are two things which speak as with a voice 
 from Hea^^ll, that He who fills the eternal throne must 
 be on the side of Virtue ; and that which He befriends 
 must finally prosper and prevail. The first is, that the 
 Bad are never completely happy and at ease, although 
 possessed of every thing that this world can bestow ; and 
 that the Good are never completely miserable, although 
 deprived of every thing this world can take away. 
 
 2. We are so framed and constituted, that the most 
 vicious can not but pay a secret though unwilling homage 
 to Virtue, inasmuch as the worst men can not bring them- 
 selves thoroughly to esteem a had man, although he may 
 be their dearest friend ; nor can they thoroughly despise a 
 good man, although he may be their bitter enemy. From 
 this inward esteem for Virtue, which the noblest cherish, 
 and which the basest can not expel, it follows that Virtue 
 is tlTe only bond of union on which we can thoroughly 
 depend. 
 
 IV. 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 POPE. 
 
 O Happiness I our being's end and aim, — 
 
 Good, Pleasure, Ease, Content, — whate'er thy name ; 
 
 That something still which prompts the eternal sigh ; 
 
 For which we bear to live, or dare to die ; 
 
 Which still so near us, yet beyond us, lies, 
 
 O'erlooked, seen double, by the fool and wise, — 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 431 
 
 Plant of celestial seed ! if dropped below, 
 
 Say in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow ? 
 
 Know, all the good that individuals find, 
 
 Or God and Nature meant to mere mankind, 
 
 Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 
 
 Lie in three words, — Health, Peace, and Competence: 
 
 But Health consists with Temperance alone ; 
 
 And Peace, O Virtue ! Peace is all thy own. 
 
 V. 
 
 ADVANCE OF SCIENCE. 
 
 1. Bacon's prophecies of the advance of Science have 
 been fulfilled far beyond what even he could have antici- 
 patea. For Knowledge partakes of Infinity. It widens 
 with our capacities ; the higher we mount in it, the vaster 
 and more magnificent are the prospects it stretches out 
 before us. Nor are we in these days, as men are ever apt 
 to imagine of their own times, approaching to the end of 
 them ; nor shall we be nearer the end a thousand years 
 hence than we are now. 
 
 2. The family of Sciences has multiplied : new sciences, 
 hitherto minamed, unthonght of, have arisen. The seed 
 which Bacon sowed sprang up, and grew to be a mighty 
 tree ; and the thoughts of thousands of men came and 
 lodged in its branches ; and those branches spread '' so 
 broad and long, that in the ground the bended twigs took 
 root, and daughters grew about the mother-tree, a pillared 
 shade high overarched, and echoing walks between," — 
 walks where Poetry may wander, and wreathe her blossoms 
 around the massy stems ; and where Rejigion may hymn 
 the praises of that Wisdom of which Science erects tlie 
 hundred-aisled Temple. 
 
432 SANDEllS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE STRUGGLE OF LIFE. 
 
 Ah ! who can tell how hard it is to climb 
 The steep where Fame's proud temj)le shines afar ? 
 Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime 
 Has felt the influence of malignant star, 
 And waged with Fortune an eternal war? 
 Checked by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, 
 And Poverty's unconquerable bar. 
 In Life's low vale remote has pined alone. 
 Then dropped into the grave, unpitied and unknown I 
 
 VII. 
 ANTIQUITY. 
 
 COLTON. 
 
 It has been observed, that a dwarf standing on the 
 shoulders of a giant will see farther than the giant him- 
 self; and the moderns, standing as they do on the vantage- 
 ground of former discoveries, and uniting all the fruits of 
 the experience of their forefathers with their own actual 
 observation, may be admitted to enjoy a more enlarged 
 and comprehensive view of things than the ancients them- 
 selves ; for that alone is true antiquity which embraces the 
 antiquity of the world, and not that which would refer us 
 back to a period when the world was young. But by whom 
 is true antiquity enjoyed ? Not by the ancients who did 
 live in the infancy, but by the moderns who do live in the 
 maturity of things. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 433 
 
 VIII. 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 SHAKSPKARE. 
 
 1. Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good, 
 
 A shining glass that fadeth suddenly, 
 A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud^ 
 
 A brittle glass that's broken presently ; 
 A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, 
 Lost, faded, broken, dead, wdthin an hour. 
 
 2. And as good lost is seld or never found, 
 
 As fading gloss no rubbing will refresh. 
 As flowers dead lie withered on the ground, 
 
 As broken glass no cement can redress, 
 So Beauty, blemished once, forever's lost, 
 In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost. 
 
 IX. 
 
 CUNNING AND DISCRETION. 
 
 ADDISON. 
 
 1. Cunning has only private, selfish aims, and sticks at 
 nothing which may make them succeed. Discretion has 
 large and extended views, and, like a well-formed eye, 
 commands a whole horizon. Cunning is a kind of short- 
 sightedness, that discovere the minutest objects which are 
 near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a dis- 
 tance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a 
 greater authority to the person who possesses it. Discre- 
 tion is the perfection of reason, and a guide to us in all 
 the duties of life. 
 
 2. Cunning is a kind of instinct, that only looks out 
 after our immediate interest and welfare. Discretion is 
 only found in men of strong sense and good understand- 
 
 u 
 
434 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ings. Cunning is often to be met with in Lrntes them- 
 selves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from 
 them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion, 
 and may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vi- 
 vacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom. 
 
 X. 
 
 PROCRASTINATION. 
 
 PERSIUS. 
 
 Cor. Unhappy he who does his work adjourn, 
 And to to-morrow would the search delay : 
 His lazy morrow will be like to-day. 
 
 PerB. But is one day of ease too much to borrow' T 
 Cor. Yes, sure ; for yesterday was once to-morrow ; 
 That yesterday is gone, and nothing gained : 
 And all thy fruitless days will tluis be drained ; 
 For thou hast more to-morrows yet to ask. 
 And wilt be ever to begin thy task ; 
 Who, like the hindmost chariot-wheels, art cursed 
 Still to be near, but ne'er to reach, the first. 
 
 LESSON CXL. 
 
 Pan' TO MIME, an actor who expresses his meaning by mute action, or 
 gesticulation only, without speaking; a dumb show.' It here means a 
 silent exhibition of Nature. 
 
 ALL NATURE SPEAKS OF A SPIRIT-WORLD. 
 
 1. TTEARD ye the whisper of the breeze, 
 (j[?.) xJL As soft it murmured by, 
 A mid the shadowy forest-trees' ? 
 
 It tells, with meaning sigh. 
 Of the bowers of bliss on that viewless shore, 
 Where the weaiy spirit sliall sin no more ; 
 
.UNION FIFTH READER. 435 
 
 2. While sweet and low in crystal streams 
 
 That glitter in the shade, 
 The music of an angel's dreams 
 
 On bubbling keys are played ; 
 And their echoes breathe, with a mystic tone, 
 Of that home where the loved and the lost are gone. 
 
 3. And when, at evening's silent hour, 
 
 We stand on the ocean's shore, 
 And feel the soul-subduing power 
 
 Of its mysterious roar, 
 Tliere's a deep voice comes from its pearly caves, 
 Of that land of peace which no ocean laves. 
 
 4. And while the shadowy vale of night 
 
 Sleeps on the mountain-side. 
 And brilliants of imfathomed hVlit 
 
 Begem the concave wide. 
 There's a spell, a power, of harmonious love, 
 That is beckoning mute to the realms above. 
 
 5. And Earth, in all her temples wild 
 
 Of mountain, rock, and dell. 
 Speaks with maternal accents mild, 
 
 Our doubting fears to quell, 
 Of another shore, and a brighter sphere, 
 Where we haste on the wings of each flying year. 
 
 6. On Nature's bright and pictured scroll, 
 
 A speaking language see : 
 A pantomime^ the seasons roll, 
 
 Of glorious imagery. 
 That reveal a life in this fading clay. 
 That shall wake again to a brighter day. 
 
436 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON CXLI. 
 
 "HOW MANIFOLD ARE THY WORKS I' 
 
 MISS A. ARNOLD. 
 
 1. A THOU, in whose almighty hand 
 yj The earth's foundations firmly stand, 
 
 And heavino; oceans rise and fall ! 
 Thee, the Creator, man shall fear, 
 So manifold Thy works appear ! 
 
 In wisdom hast Thou made them all. 
 
 2. The heavens are Thine — stars speak Thy praise, 
 Point with a thousand trembling rays 
 
 The pathway where Thy feet have trod I 
 They roll along the deep blue arch, 
 And seem in their eternal march 
 
 The glittering armies of our God I 
 
 ♦. 
 
 3. How grand the ever-drifting clouds ! 
 How beautiful those snowy shrouds 
 
 That float aloncr 'twixt earth and heaven I 
 And yet how fearful in their wrath. 
 When lurid lightnings mark their path. 
 
 And they by tempest- winds are driven I 
 
 4. But when Thy hand hath hushed the storm, 
 And thrown the sunbeams, bright and warm. 
 
 Upon the tearful earth again. 
 How like an emblem of Thy love 
 The bright-hued rainbow bends above, 
 
 And spans the misty vail of rain ! 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADER. 437 
 
 LESSON CXLII. 
 
 * Bear, one of two constellations in the northern hemisphere, called re- 
 
 spectively the Greater and Lesser Bear, -or Ursa Major and Ursa 
 Minor. 
 
 * O Ri' ON, a large and bright constellation, crossed by the equinoctial line. 
 
 TIMES AND SEASONS. 
 
 L. H. GRINDOX. 
 
 WHILE, to the poet and thoughtful man, the changes 
 of times and seasons are in the highest degree 
 beautiful and suggestive, even to the most indifferent and 
 selfish they are surrounded with an agreeable interest. 
 None view their progress without regard, however little 
 they may be attracted by their sweet pictures and phe- 
 nomena, or moved by the amenities and wisdom of their 
 ministry. This is because the changes incidental to Nat- 
 ure are, on the one hand, a kind of counterpart or image 
 of the occurrences and vicissitudes of human hfe ; and on 
 the other, the circumstances by which its business and 
 pleasures are, in large measure, suggested and controlled. 
 
 2. The consummation of the old year, and the opening 
 of the new, brings with it, accordingly, a fine significance, 
 and a pleasurable importance. So, in their degree, the 
 transitions of winter into spring, of spring into summer, 
 of summer into autumn ; and so, in their degree, the 
 alternations of day and night. The longer the interval, 
 the more interesting is the change. 
 
 3. The close of the gear occupies the foremost place in 
 this universal interest, from its completing a well-defined 
 and comprehensive cycle of natural mutations. It is by 
 this circumstance rendered an appropriate gpoch for the 
 measurement of life and being ; and hence there fasten on 
 
438 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 it peculiar momentousness and solemnity, which remain 
 inseparably attached, though the season be unknown or 
 forgotten. Days and nights follow too rajndly to serve such 
 a purpose. 
 
 4. Only as the result of these mutations does the year 
 exist. Were there no primroses to die with the spring, no 
 lilies to vanish with the summer, Avere there no sequences 
 of the leaf and flower, sunshine and starlight, there would 
 even be no time. For time, like space, pertains but to 
 the material circumference of creation, that is, to the A-isi- 
 ble half of the universe, and is only appreciable through 
 its medium. It is by objective nature alone that the ideas 
 both of time and space are furnished ; and they are sus- 
 tained in us only so long as we are in contact with it. 
 
 5. The movements of the heavenly bodies contribute 
 the most exact and obvious data, because expressly given 
 " for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years." * 
 But the heavens are not our only timepiece. Another is 
 spread over the surface of the earth in its living products. 
 The phenomena connected with plants, and the habits of 
 the lower animals, constitute in themselves a complete. sys- 
 tem of chronometry ; indicating not merely seasons, but 
 even days and hours. 
 
 6. In the times of the leafing of the trees, the blooming 
 of flowers, the ripening of fruits, the appearance of insects, 
 the singing and nest-building of birds, the departure and 
 return of the migratory kinds, and of every other incident 
 of unmolested Nature, there is nothing chanceful or uncer- 
 tain. Every event transpires at a fixed point in the series 
 of changes to which it belongs. 
 
 7. Celestial and atmospheric phenomena, if they have 
 
 * Genesis, 1st chap., 14tli verse. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 439 
 
 fewer of the charms of variety, in their splendors compen- 
 sate it tenfold. How beautiful to note the phases of the 
 moon, the chameleon-tinting of the sky, the traveling of 
 the planets, and the circling round the pole of the seven 
 bright stars of the sleepless Bear^ ! With what gladness, 
 and enthusiasm too, in the cold, inanimate winter, we view 
 the rising Orion,^ and his brilliant quarter of the heavens ! 
 The cheerlessness of the earth is forgotten in the mag- 
 nificence overhead, and we thank God for unfolding such 
 glory. 
 
 8. Ev^ery event, moreover, having its own poetical rela- 
 tions, at once refreshes the heart, and places before the 
 mind some elegant item in the innumerable harmonies of 
 the universe. In the perpetual sparkle of the Bear is pre- 
 sented an image of the ever- wakeful eye of Providence ; 
 and in the alternate waxing and waning of the moon, a 
 beautiful picture of the oscillations in man's fortune. 
 
 9. The regularity with which the phenomena of Nature 
 recur, and their determinate and unvarying character, 
 are expressed in many names. * Spring is literally the 
 season of growth ; the summer, that of sunshine ; autumn, 
 that of increase or fertility ; winter, that of the " windy 
 storm and tempest." Times, years, seasons, accordingly, 
 are not to be esteemed a part of creation, but simply an 
 accident, or result of it. 
 
 10. Our personal experiences concur with Nature in 
 testifying this ; for to no two men has time the same dura- 
 tion, nor does any individual reckon it always by the same 
 dial. To the slothful, time has the feet of a snail ; to the 
 diligent, the wings of an eagle. Impatience lengthens, en- 
 joyment shortens it. The unhappi/ and desolate see noth- 
 ing but weary tedium : with the cheerful, it glides like a 
 stream. 
 
440 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON CXLIII. 
 
 EARTH, AIR, AND SEA. 
 
 MAURY. 
 
 THE mean annual fall of rain on the entire surface of 
 the earth is estimated at about five feet. To evaporate 
 water enough annually from the ocean to cover the earth, 
 on the average, five feet deep with rain ; to transport it 
 from one zone to another, and to precipitate it in the right 
 places, at suitable times, and in the proportions due, — is 
 one of the offices of the grand atmospherical machine. All 
 this evaporation, however, does not take place from the 
 sea ; for the water that falls on the land is re-evaporated 
 from the land afystin and again. 
 
 2. But, in the first instance, it is evaporated principally 
 from the torrid zone. Supposing it all to be evaporated 
 thence, we shall have, encircling the earth, a belt of ocean 
 three thousand miles in breadth, from which this atmos- 
 phere raises a layer of water annually sixteen feet in 
 depth. And to raise as high as the clouds, and lower 
 down again, all the water in a lake sixteen feet deep, and 
 three thousand miles broad, and twenty-four thousand 
 long, is the yearly business of this invisible machinery. 
 What a powerful engine is the atmosphere ! and how 
 nicely adjusted must be all the cogs, and wheels, and 
 springs, and compensations of this exquisite piece of ma- 
 chinery, that it never wears out nor breaks down, nor fails 
 to do its work at the right time and in the right way ! 
 
 3. We now begin to perceive why it is that the propor- 
 tions between the land and water were made ^s we find 
 them in Nature. If there had been more water, and less 
 land, we should have had more rain, and vice versa ; * and 
 
 * The terms being exchanged. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 441 
 
 then climates would have been different from what they 
 are now, and the inhabitants, animals, and vegetables 
 would not have been as they are. But that wise Being, 
 who in His kind providence so watches over and regards 
 the things of this world that He takes note of the spar- 
 row's fall and numbers the very hairs of our head, doubts 
 less designed them to be as they are. 
 
 4. The mind is delighted, and the imagination charmed, 
 by contemplating the physical arrangements of the earth 
 from such points of view as this which we now have before 
 us. From it the sea, and the air, and the land, appear 
 each as a part of that grand machinery upon which the 
 well-being of all the inhabitants of earth, sea, and air, de- 
 pends ; and which, in its beautiful adaptations, affords new 
 and striking evidence that they all liave their origin in one 
 omniscient idea^ just as the different parts of a watch may 
 be considered to have been constructed and arranged ac- 
 cordino; to one human desio-n. 
 
 5. Whenever we turn to contemplate the works of Na- 
 ture, we are stinick with the admirable system of compen- 
 sation^ — with the beauty and nicety with which every 
 department is adjusted, adapted, and regulated according 
 to the others. Things and principles are meted out in di- 
 rections apparently the most opposite, but in proportions so 
 exactly balanced, that results the most harmonious are pro- 
 duced. It is by the action of opposite and compensating 
 forces that the earth is kept in its orbit, and the stars are 
 held suspended in the azure vault of heaven ; and these 
 forces are so exquisitely adjusted, that, at the end of a 
 thousand years, the earth, the sun, and moon, and every 
 star in the firmament, is found to come and twinkle in its 
 proper place at the proper moment ! 
 
 6. Therefore, in considering the general laws which gov- 
 
442 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ern the physical agents of the universe, and which regulate 
 them in the due performance of their offices, it is evident, 
 that if the atmosphere had had a greater or less capacity 
 for moisture, or if the proportion of land and water had 
 been different, — if tlie earth, air, and water had not been 
 in exact counterpoise, — the whole arrangement of the ani- 
 mal and vegetable kingdoms would have varied from their 
 present state. But God, for reasons which man may never 
 know, chose to make those kingdoms what they are. For 
 this purpose^ it was necessary, in His judgment, to establish 
 the proportions between the land, and the water, and the 
 desert, just as they are ; and to make the capacity of the 
 air to circulate heat and moisture just what it is, and to 
 liav^e it to do all its work in obedience to law, and in sub- 
 servience to order. 
 
 7. If it were not so, why was power given to the winds 
 to lift up and transport moisture, and to feed the plants 
 with nourishment ? or why was the property given to the 
 sea, by which its waters may become first vapor, and then 
 fruitful showers or gentle dews? If the proportions and 
 properties of land, sea, and air, were not adjusted according 
 to the reciprocal capacities of all to perform the functions 
 required of each, why should we be told that He " meas- 
 ured the waters in the hollow of His hand, and meted out 
 the heavens with a span, and comprehended the dust of 
 the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in 
 scales, and the hills in a balance " ? * Why did He span 
 the heavens, but that He might mete out the atmosphere 
 in exact proportion to all the rest, and impart to it those 
 properties and powders which it was necessary for it to 
 liave, in order that it might perform all those offices and 
 duties for which He desio^ned it? 
 
 * Is., 40th chap., 12th verse. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 443 
 
 8. Harmonious in their action, the air and sea are obe- 
 dient to law, and subject to order in all their movements. 
 When we consult them in the performance of their mani- 
 fold and marvelous offices, they teach us lessons concern- 
 ing the wonders of the deep, the mysteries of the sky, and 
 the greatness, wisdom, and goodness of .the Creator. The 
 investigations into the broad-spreading circle of phenomena 
 connected with the winds of heaven, and the waves of the 
 sea, are second to none for the good which they do, and 
 for the lessons which they teach. The astronomer is said 
 to see the hand of God in the sky ; but does not the right- 
 minded mariner, who looks aloft as he ponders over these 
 things, hear His voice in every wave of the sea that " claps 
 its hands," and feel His presence in every breeze that 
 blows' ? 
 
 LESSON CXLIV. 
 
 ^ Ge' ni I, good or evil spirits, supposed by the ancients to preside over 
 man's destiny in life. 
 
 THE CLOUD. 
 
 SHELLEY. 
 
 1. T BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 
 X From the seas and the streams ; 
 I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 
 
 In their noon-day dreams ; 
 From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 
 
 The sweet buds every one. 
 When rocked to rest on their mother's breast. 
 
 As she dances about the sun. 
 I wield the flail of the lashino- hail. 
 
 And whiten the green plains under ; 
 And then again I dissolve it in rain. 
 
 And laugh as I pass in thunder. 
 
444 SANDEKS' UNION SEKIES. 
 
 2. I sift the snow on the mountains below, 
 
 And their great pines groan aghast ; 
 And all the night 'tis my pillow white, 
 
 While I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
 Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers, 
 
 Lightning, my pilot, sits ; > 
 In a cavern under is fettered the thunder, — ' 
 
 It struggles and howls by fits ; 
 Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion. 
 
 This pilot is guiding me. 
 Lured by the love of the genii ^ that move 
 
 In the depths of the purple sea ; 
 Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills. 
 
 Over the lakes and the plains, 
 Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream. 
 
 The spirit he loves remains ; 
 And I, all the while, bask in heaven's blue smile, 
 
 Whilst he is dissolving: in rains. 
 
 3. The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, 
 
 And his burning plumes outspread, 
 Leaps on the back of my sailing rack. 
 
 When the morning-star shines dead. 
 As on the jag of a mountain-crag. 
 
 Which an earthquake rocks and swings. 
 An eagle, alit, one moment may sit. 
 
 In the light of its golden wings. 
 And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath, 
 
 Its ardors of rest and love. 
 And the crimson pall of eve may fall 
 
 From the depth of heaven above. 
 With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest, 
 
 As still as a brooding dove. 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 445 
 
 4. That orb^d Maiden, with white fire laden, 
 
 Whom mortals call the moon, 
 Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, 
 
 By the midnight breezes strewn ; 
 And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 
 
 Which only the angels hear, 
 May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof, 
 
 The stars peep behind her, and peer ! 
 And I laugh to see them whirl and flee. 
 
 Like a swarm of golden bees, 
 When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 
 
 Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 
 Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high. 
 
 Are each paved with the moon and these. 
 
 5. I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone. 
 
 And the moon's with a girdle of pearl ; 
 The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim. 
 
 When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl. 
 From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape. 
 
 Over a torrent of sea. 
 Sun-beam proof, I hang like a roof, 
 
 The mountains its columns be. 
 The triumphal arch through which I march 
 
 With hurricane, fire, and snow, 
 When the powers of the air are chained to my chair^ 
 
 Is the million-colored bow ; 
 The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove. 
 
 While the moist earth was laughing below. 
 
 6. I am the daughter of earth and water. 
 
 And the nursling of the sky ; 
 I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ', 
 I change, but I can not die. 
 
446 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 For after the rain, when, with never a stain, 
 
 The pavihon of heaven is bare. 
 And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams. 
 
 Build up the blue dome of air, 
 I silently laugh at my own cenotaph. 
 
 And out of the caverns of rain, 
 Like a sprite from the gloom, like a ghost from the tomb, 
 
 I rise and upbuild it again. 
 
 LESSON CXLY. 
 
 ^ A crop' o lis, the upper or higher part of a Grecian city ; hence the cita- 
 del or castle, and especially the citadel of Athens. 
 
 EULOGY ON DANIEL WEBSTER* 
 
 LEWIS GAYLORD CLAKK. 
 
 THE voice of national eulogy and sorrow unite to tell us, 
 Daniel Webster is numbered with the dead. Seldom 
 has mortality seen a sublimer close of an illustrious career. 
 No American, since Washington, has, to so great an ex- 
 tent, occupied the thoughts, and molded the minds, of 
 men. The past may hold back its tribute, and the present 
 give no light ; but the future will show, in colors of living 
 truth, the honor which is justly due him as the political 
 prophet, and great intellectual light of the New World. 
 His life-time labors have been to defend the Constitution, 
 to preserve the Union, to honor the great men of the Revo- 
 lution, to vindicate international law, to develop the re- 
 sources of the country, and transmit the blessings of good 
 
 * Daniel Webster died at Marshfield, Mass., Oct. 24, 1852, in the seventy- 
 first year of his age. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 447 
 
 government to all who should thereafter walk on Ameri- 
 can soil. 
 
 2. Death has thrown a deep and somber pall over the 
 land. Tearful is Columbia's eye, and desolate is her heart. 
 Her temple is shrouded in gloom ; its aisles are thronged 
 with mourners ; its columns are wreathed with cypress. 
 The muffled bell is but the echo of the muffled heart. 
 Elegy has stifled encomium ; panegyric has yielded to sor- 
 row ; grief has become the most befitting eulogy. It is 
 right that mourning should shroud the land. A star of 
 magnitude and luster has left the horizon, and gone down 
 to the realms of death. 
 
 3. Wherever on earth patriotism commands regard, and 
 eloquence leads captive the soul, it will be seen and felt that 
 a truly great man has been called away, and left a void 
 which none can fill. New Hampshire has lost her noblest 
 column. She has no more such granite left. Massachu- 
 setts will not soon cease weeping for her adoj)ted son. 
 Plymouth Rock, Faneuil Hall, and Bunker Hill, will 
 forever speak of him whose eloquence has made them hal- 
 lowed spots in the remembrance of mankind. 
 
 4. Daniel Webster was great in all the elements of his 
 character. Great in original mental strength ; great in 
 varied and vast acquirements ; great in quick and keen 
 perception ; great in subtle, logical discrimination ; great 
 in force of thought ; great in power of intense and rigid 
 analysis ; great in rare and beautiful combination of tal- 
 ent ; great in ability to make an effort, and command his 
 power; great in range and acuteness of vision, — he could 
 see like a prophet. Hence his decision of character ; his 
 bold, manly, and independent thought ; his Avhole sover- 
 eignty of mind. No man, probably, ever lived, who could 
 calculate with such mathematical certainty the separate 
 
448 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 effect of human actions, or tlie intricate, combined, and 
 complicated influence of every movement, social, political, 
 or personal. He could define and determine the very 
 destiny of influence. 
 
 5. This is the key to the problem of his greatness, an 
 explanation to the miracle of his power. We are proud 
 of his greatness, because it is American, — wholly Ameri- 
 can. The very impulses of his heart were American. 
 The spirit of American institutions had infused itself into 
 his life ; had become a part of his being. He was proud 
 of his country ; proud of her commerce ; proud of her 
 manufactures ; proud of her agriculture ; proud of her in- 
 stitutions of art and science ; and proud of her wealth, 
 her resources, and her labor. And all, in turn, were 
 proud of him. His patriotism was not bounded by the 
 narrow limits of sectional interest ; not hemmed in by 
 State lines, nor regulated and biased by local policies. 
 It was as broad as his country. He knew a North and a 
 South, an East and a West ; but he knew them only as 
 one, — "one and inseparable." 
 
 6. As a Diplo'matist, the world has never seen his 
 equal. He wielded the pen of the nation with a power, a 
 dignity, and a grandeur, wholly unparalleled in the annals 
 of diplomacy. When clouds and darkness gloomed the 
 heavens ; when the storm had gathered, ready to burst in 
 fury ; when the whole Republic every moment feared the 
 mighty convulsive shock which should mar and shatter 
 the fabric of their hopes, — then, standing on the summit 
 of the trembling Acropolis^ the Angel of Deliverance, he 
 threw his burning chain over the cloud, and drew the 
 lightning in safety from the heavens ! 
 
 7. But it is as Senator, in that grand forum of the 
 nation's congregated wisdom, power, and eloquence, we 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 449 
 
 see liim towering in all the majesty and supremacy of his 
 greatness, — the mighty bulwark of the nation's hope, the 
 august arbiter of the nation's destiny. How grand ! how 
 sublime ! how imperial ! how god-like ! It was here that 
 he occupied the uncontested throne of human greatness ; 
 exhibited himself to the world in all his grand and magnifi- 
 cent proportions ; wore a crown studded with gems that 
 an emperor might covet ; won an immortality of envied 
 honor ; and covered himself with a glory, brighter, and 
 purer, and higher than a conqueror has ever been per- 
 mitted to achieve. 
 
 8. Eloquence was his panoply, — his very stepping-stone 
 to fame. She twined upon his brow a wreath which antiq- 
 uity might covet, inspired his soul with a divinity which 
 shaped his lofty destiny, and threw a light upon his track 
 of glory which no fortune could obscure. She bore him 
 up to the Pisgah* of renown, where he sat solitary and 
 alone, — the monarch of a realm whose conqueror wears 
 no bloody laurels, whose fair domain no carnage can de- 
 spoil, and in whose bright crown no pillaged pearls are 
 set. 
 
 9. As a forensic Orator, I know of no age, past or 
 present, which can boast his superior. He united the 
 boldness and energy of the Grecian, and the grandeur and 
 strength of the Roman, to an original, sublime simplicity, 
 which neither Grecian nor Roman possessed. He did not 
 deal in idle declamation and lofty expression ; his ideas 
 were not embalmed in rhetorical embellishments, nor 
 buried up in the superfluous tinselry of metaphor and 
 trope. He clothed them for the occasion ; and, if the 
 crisis demanded, they stood forth naked, in all their native 
 majesty, armed with a power which would not bend to the 
 
 * See Deut., 3d chap., 27th verse. 
 
450 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 passion, but only stooped to conquer the reason. Sublime, 
 indeed, it was to see that giant mind, when roused in all its 
 grandeur, sweep over the fields of reason and imagination, 
 bearing down all opposition, as with the steady and resist- 
 less power of the ocean billows, — to see the eye, the brow, 
 the gesture, the whole man^ speaking with an utterance too 
 sublime for language, a logic too lofty for speech. 
 
 10. He needs no marble column or sculptured urn to 
 perpetuate his memory, or tell his worth to rising genera- 
 tions. His fame shall outlive marble ; for when time shall 
 efface every letter from the crumbling stone, yea, when 
 the marble itself shall dissolve to dust, his memory shall 
 be more deeply incased in the hearts of unborn millions, 
 and from his tomb shall arise a sacred incense which shall 
 garnish the concave of his native sky with the brightest 
 galaxy of posthumous fame ; and on its broad arch of stud- 
 ded macrnificence shall be braided, in " characters of liv- 
 ing light," Daniel Webster, the great Defender ^op 
 THE Constitution. 
 
 11. Trite and insipid would it be in me to trace anew 
 that mighty genius through his wonderful career. There 
 are his acts, — noble, lofty, god-like ! They are their own 
 historians. There are his thoughts, — high, heroic, and 
 sublime. They stand alone, unequaled, unalloyed, imper- 
 ishable. They are the world's legacy. His fame has 
 taken the pinions of ubiquity ; it is already inchased deep 
 in the hearts of grateful millions, "and there it wiix 
 
 REMAIN F0REVP:R." 
 
 12. The nation mourns, and well it may. He has lefl 
 a void which none can fill. Laid forever at rest in the 
 humble grave, by the side of the sea, the wild waves sing 
 his requiem. With Mount Vernon and Ashland,* his 
 
   The residence of Henry Clay, and where he was buried. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 451 
 
 tomb will be a place where men in all coming time will 
 resort, to bring away memorials from the sanctuary of the 
 mighty dead. Patriotism, when it desponds, will go there, 
 look, and live ; factional strife and sectional jealousy will 
 feel rebuked when they visit the last resting-place of him 
 whose labors jf a life-time were to transmit tlie blessings of 
 life and liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, which God 
 ordained should first be made manifest in America. 
 
 13. The beams of the setting sun will fall with a mel- 
 lowed light on the spot where the majestic form of Webster 
 molders back to dust, and where the anthem of the Puri- 
 tan was heard as he came to build an altar to his God, and 
 find a quiet tomb. May the worshiper of after-years ap- 
 proach that hallowed shrine with no empty offering of idle 
 curiosity, no vain and soulless orison ; but with grateful 
 and devout homage may the pilgrim of another age jour- 
 ney with reverent adoration to that consecrated spot, and, 
 arched upon its humble tablet, read, in that simple but 
 significant epitapli, " I still live ! " * — the high, pro- 
 plietic record of the last and sublimest victory of his life — 
 that of the unblenching spirit over death. 
 
 14. The sun that illumined that planet of clay 
 Had sunk in the west of an unclouded day ; 
 
 And tlie cold dews of death stood like diamonds of 
 
 light. 
 Thickly set in the pale, dusky forehead of Night : 
 From each gleamed a ray of that fetterless soul, 
 Wliich had bursted its prison, despising control, 
 And, careering above, o'er earth's darkness and 
 
 gloom. 
 Inscribed, ' I still live,' on the arch of the tomb/ 
 
 * Last words of Daniel Webster. 
 
452 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 15. The gleam of that promise shall brighten the page 
 Of the prophet and statesman through each rolling 
 
 age. 
 He lives ! prince and peasant shall join the acclaim i 
 No fortune can make him the martyr of Fame. 
 He lives ! from the grave of the patriot Greek 
 Comes the voice of the dead, which, though silent. 
 
 shall speak ; 
 Light leaps from the cloud which has deepened the 
 
 gloom, 
 And flashes its glance on the arch of his tomb I 
 
 16. He lives, ever lives, in the hearts of the free ; 
 The wing of his fame spreads across the broad sea ; 
 He lives where the banner of Freedom's unfurled ; 
 The pride of New England, — the wealth of the 
 
 world ! 
 Thou land of the pilgrim ! how hallowed the bed 
 Where thy patriot sleeps, and thy heroes have bled ! 
 Let age after age in perennial bloom 
 Braid the light of thy stars on the arch 
 
 of his tomb.'' 
 
 LESSON CXLYL 
 
 SCENERY OF PALESTINE. 
 
 REV. J. P. NEWMAN. 
 
 SPRING is the most deliglitful season of the year in the 
 Holy Land, whether to enjoy the pleasures of the cli- 
 mate, or to behold the magnificence of the scenery. Then 
 the skies are bright, the air balmy, and the vernal sun 
 lights up the landscape with a thousand forms of beauty. 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER. 453 
 
 Then sparkling fountains are unsealed, silver brooks go 
 murmuring by, and wild cascades, leaping from their rocky 
 higlits, come dashing down the mountain-side, scattering in 
 their descent wreaths of rainbow spray. 
 
 2. Then the valleys and the hills are clothed with verd- 
 ure, the fields are green with grains and grasses, the fig 
 and palm trees are in blossom, the almond, apricot, olive, 
 and pomegranate are ripening, and the cypress, tamarisk, 
 oak, walnut, sycamore, and poplar are decked with the 
 clean, fresh foliage of a new year. The herds of camels 
 and buffaloes are grazing on the meadows, the flocks of 
 sheep and goats go gamboling up the mountain-sides. 
 Then, in all the glens, on all the vast prairie-plains, and 
 over all the highest mountains, are flowers blooming, — 
 anemones, oleanders, amaranths, arbutuses, poppies, holly- 
 hocks, daisies, hyacinths, tulips, pinks, lilies, and roses, — 
 growing in unbounded profusion, delighting the senses, and 
 transforming the land Into a garden of flowers. 
 
 3. But whatever is beautiful in the scenery of Palestine 
 is peculiar to the north. In the south there is a sameness 
 of outline and of color that wearies the eye, and makes 
 one sigh for variety: but, north of the mountains of 
 Ephraim, the beholder is charmed with green plains and 
 fertile valleys, with wooded dells and graceful hills, with 
 rippling brooks and sylvan lakes, with leaping cascades 
 and rushing rivers, with sublime chasms and profound 
 ravines ; and with .lofty mountains, broken into beetling 
 elifls and craggy peaks, whose higher summits - are capped 
 with perpetual snows, and down whose furrowed sides rush 
 a thousand torrents. 
 
 4. If the standard of landscape-beauty be the regular 
 alternation of plain and mountain, as In Greece and Italy; 
 the clean meadows, the well-made farms, and green hills, 
 
454- SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 as in France and England ; or the continent-like prairies, 
 the miniature seas, and multiform mountains of America, — 
 then the Land of Promise must yield the palm to those 
 more highly-favored countries. But, if the combination of 
 all these characteristics on a smaller scale constitutes the 
 beautiful and grand in natural scenery, Palestine is not 
 unworthily praised by the sacred writers for the variety 
 and magriificence of its landscape. 
 
 5. Viewed from such a stand-point, the Holy Land is 
 a world in miniature, possessing the three great terrene 
 features of the globe, — sea-board, plain, and mountain. 
 Selected by Providence to be the medium of divine truth 
 to men of all lands, it was necessary that the national 
 home of the Bible-writers should open to their imagina- 
 tions the most wonderful and varied of the works of the 
 Creator. 
 
 6. Naturally inclined to express our admiration of the 
 Deity in allusions to His w^isdom and goodness displayed in 
 Nature, we experience a unison of devotion with those 
 who were the oracles of inspired truth to us in their sub- 
 lime illustrations, drawn from the sea and land, the valleys 
 and hills, the climate and fruits, and the beasts and birds, 
 of the country that gave them birth. Had they dwelt at 
 the poles, or on the equator, or in the heart of Arabia, or 
 on the banks of the Nile, they could not have given the 
 same universality of expression to the message they were 
 sent to announce. It is evidence of the presence of that 
 all-wise Spirit, that the prophets and psalmists, the Savior 
 and the apostles, drew their simplest, noblest figures from 
 Nature, such as can not fail to arrest the attention of the 
 untutored mind in every . land, and inspire intellects of 
 the highest culture with admiration. 
 
 7. Who among all the maritime nations of the earth can 
 
TTNION FIFTH READER. ^ 455 
 
 fail to appreciate the Psalmist's description of his native sea, 
 as from its shores, or from some mountain-top, he beheld its 
 wonders ? — " O Lord, how manifold are Thy works ! in 
 wisdom hast Thou made them all ; the earth is full of Thy 
 riches : so is this great and wide sea, wherein are things 
 creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts." * 
 And who that has ever crossed the ocean, or witnessed a 
 storm at sea, does not realize the perfection of his descrip- 
 tion ? — *' They that go down to the sea in ships, that do 
 business in great waters ; these see the works of the Lord, 
 and His wonders in the deep ; for He commandeth, and 
 raiseth the stormy wind which lifteth up the waves thereof: 
 tliey mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the 
 depths ; their soul is melted because of trouble ; they reel 
 to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at 
 their wits' ends." f 
 
 8. The mountaineer feels that the Psalmist uttered 
 
 " What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed," 
 
 when he describes, — '' The high hills are a refuire for the 
 wild goats, and the rocks for the conies." J The dweller 
 at the poles is conscious of a fellow-feeling when he reads 
 these sublime words, — " He giveth snow like wool ; He 
 scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes ; He casteth forth his 
 ice like morsels: who can stand before His cold?"§ The 
 nomad of the desert finds his own country portrayed in 
 the graphic allusions to a " dry and thirsty land where no 
 water is," to the " shadow of a great rock in a weary 
 land ; " and feels himself kindred to the patriarchs in his 
 predatory life. 
 
 9. They that dwell upon the equator comprehend that 
 grand and terrific passage descriptive of the earthquake 
 
 * Ps. civ. 24, 25. 1 Ps. cvii. 23-27. t Ps. civ. 18. § Ps. cxlvii. 16, 17. 
 
456 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and volcano: — ''He looketli on the earth, and it trem- 
 bleth ; He toucheth the hills, and they smoke." * And to 
 the denizens of all lands are familiar those impressive ref- 
 erences to the sun, moon, and stars, — to the "thunder 
 of his power;" to the "lightnings that lighten the world;" 
 to the storm of hail and rain ; to the shepherd on the 
 mountain ; to the husbandman in the field ; and to the 
 merchant in the marts of commerce. 
 
 LESSON^ CXLYII. 
 
 * Lost Ple' iad, one of the Pleiades, or seven small stars situated in ttie 
 
 neck of the constellation Taurus. Only six of these stars are visible 
 to the naked eye; and the ancients supposed that the seventh concealed 
 herself, out of shame for having bestowed her love upon a mere mor- 
 tal, Sisyphus, while her sisters were the favorites of divine personages. 
 
 • Sa' mi el-breatii, a hot and destructive wind that sometimes blows, in 
 
 Arabia and the adjacent countries, from the desert ; the simoom. 
 
 BIRTH-DAY REFLECTIONS. 
 
 GEORGE D. PRENTICE. 
 
 1. Another year 
 
 Has parted, and its knell is sounding now 
 O'er the Past's silent ocean. Ah, it is 
 An hour for tears ! There is a specter-form 
 In memory's voiceless chambers, pointing now 
 Its dim, cold finger to the beautiful 
 And holy visions that have passed away, 
 And left no shadow of their loveliness 
 On the dead waste of life. That specter lifts 
 The coffin-lid of dear, remembered Love, 
 And, bending mournfully above the pale, 
 
 * Ps. civ. 32. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 45? 
 
 Sweet form that slumbers there, scatters dead flowers 
 O'er wliat is gone forever. 
 
 2. I am not 
 
 As in the years of boyhood. There were hours 
 
 Of joyousness that came Hke angel-shapes 
 
 Upon my heart ; but they are altered now, 
 
 And rise on memory's view Hke statues pale 
 
 By a dim fount of tears. And there were springs, 
 
 Upon whose stream the sweet young blossoms leaned 
 
 To list the gush of music ; but their depths 
 
 Are turned to dust. There, too, were holy lights, 
 
 That shone, sweet rainbows of the spirit, o'er 
 
 The skies of new existence ; but their gleams, 
 
 Like the lost Pleiad^ of the olden time. 
 
 Have faded from my vision, and are lost 
 
 'Mid the cold mockeries of earth. 
 
 3. Alone! — 
 I am alone ! The guardians of my young 
 And sinless years have gone, and left me here 
 A solitary wanderer. Their low tones 
 
 Of love oft swell upon the evening winds, 
 Or wander sweetly down through falling dews 
 At midnight's still and melancholy hour ; 
 But voice alone is there. Ages of thought 
 Come o'er me there ; and, with a spirit w^on 
 Back to its earlier years, I kneel again 
 At young life's broken shrine. 
 
 4. The thirst of power 
 Has been a fever to my spirit. Oft, 
 
 Even in my childhood, I was wont to gaze 
 Upon the swollen cataract rushing down 
 With its eternal thunder-peal ; the far 
 
 20 
 
458 SANDEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Expanse of ocean, with its infinite 
 Of stormy waters roaring to the heavens ; 
 The night-storm fiercely rending the great oaks 
 From their rock-pinnacles ; the giant clouds 
 Tossing their plumes like warriors in the sky, 
 And hurling their keen lightnings through the air 
 Like the red flash of swords. Ay, I was wont 
 To gaze on these, and almost weep to think 
 I could not match their strength. The same wild thirst 
 For power is yet upon me : it has been 
 A madness in my day-dreams, and a curse 
 Upon my being. It has led me on 
 To mingle in the strife of men, and dare 
 The Samiel-breath^ of hate ; and I am now. 
 Even in the opening of my manhood's prime, 
 One whom the world loves not. 
 5. Well — it is well. 
 
 There is a silent purpose in my heart; 
 . And neither love, nor hate, nor fear, shall tame 
 My own fixed daring. Though my being's stream 
 Gives out no music now, 'tis passing back 
 To its far fountain in the heavens, and there 
 'Twill rest forever in the ocean-tide 
 Of God's immensity. I will not mourn 
 Life's shrouded memories. I can still drink in 
 The unshadowed beauty of the universe. 
 Gaze with a swelling soul upon the blue 
 Magnificence above, and hear the hymn 
 Of Heaven in every starlight ray, and fill 
 Glen, hill, and vale, and mountain, with the bright 
 And glorious visions poured from the deep home 
 Of an immortal mind. Past Year, farewell I 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 459 
 
 LESSON CXLYIII. 
 
 * A crop' o lis, the upper or higher part of a Grecian city ; hence the 
 
 citadel or castle, and especially the citadel of Athens. 
 
 * Porch, a public portico in Athens, where Zeno, the philosopher, taught 
 
 his disciples ; hence sometimes used as equivalent to the school of the 
 Stoics. 
 •Ly ce' um, a place in Greece, near the River Ilissus, where Aristotle 
 taught philosophy. 
 
 * Grove, a cluster of trees shading an avenue or walk. 
 
 PAUL AT ATHENS. 
 
 JOHN ANGELL JAMES. 
 
 BEHOLD Paul, the Apostle, at Athens ! think of the 
 matchless splendor which blazed upon his view as he 
 rolled his eye around the enchanting panorama that en- 
 circled the Hill of Mars. On the one hand, as he stood 
 upon the summit of the rock, beneath the canopy of 
 heaven, was spread a glorious prospect of mountains, 
 islands, seas, and skies ; on the other, quite within his 
 view, was the Plain of Marathon, where the wrecks of 
 former generations, and the tombs of departed heroes, 
 mingled together in silent desolation. 
 
 2. Behind him towered the lofty Acropolis,' crowned 
 with the pride of Grecian architecture. There, in the 
 zenith of their splendor and the perfection of their beauty, 
 stood those peerless temples, the very fragments of which 
 are viewed by modern travelers with an idolatry almost 
 equal to that which reared them. Stretched along the 
 plain below him, and reclining her head on the slope of 
 the neighboring hills, was Athens, mother of the arts and 
 sciences, with her noble offspring sporting beside her. 
 
 3. The Porch,'-^ the Lyceum,^ and the Grove ,^ with the 
 
460 SANDERJg' UKION SERIES. 
 
 stations of departed sages, and the forms of their living 
 disciples, were all presented to the apostle's eye. What 
 mind, possessing the slightest pretension to classic taste, 
 can think of his situation, and such sublime and captivating 
 scenery, without a momentary rapture ? Yet there, even 
 there^ did this accomplished scholar stand as insensible to 
 all the grandeur as if nothing was before him but the tree- 
 less, turfless desert. 
 
 4. Absorbed in the holy abstractions of his own mind, 
 he saw the charms, felt no fascination, but, on the con- 
 trary, was pierced with the most poignant distress ; and 
 what was the cause ? '•'•He saiv the city wholly given to 
 idolatry^ To him it presented nothing but a magnificent 
 mausoleum, decorated, it is true, with the richest produc- 
 tions of the sculptor and architect, but still where the 
 souls of men lay dead in trespasses and sins ; while the 
 dim light of philosophy that still glimmered in the schools 
 appeared but as the lamp of the sepulcher, shedding its pale 
 and sickly ray around those gorgeous chambers of death. 
 
 LESSON CXLIX. 
 
 PAUL AT ATHENS. — Continued. 
 
 THERE was something, to such a one as Paul, that was 
 spirit-stirring in the mighty array that he had to cope 
 with at Athens. He was full of courage and of hope. In 
 the cause of Christ he had gone on conquering, and would 
 trust that, even here, he came to conquer. He felt that it 
 was enough, even if he saved but one, to recompense the 
 effort and the peril ; that it was enough, if, by his faithful- 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 461 
 
 ness, he only delivered liis own soul. But his was a mind 
 to look and aim at more than this. He felt the splendor 
 of the triumph there would be in leveling the wisdom and 
 the idolatry of Athens at the foot of the Cross. 
 
 2. Animated by such' feelings, we may iiow regard 
 Paul, in what must have been one of the most interesting 
 moments of even his eventful life, preparing himself on 
 the Hill of Mars to address an auditory of Athenians on 
 behalf of Christianity. He would feel the imposing asso- 
 ciations of the spot on which he stood, where justice had 
 been administered in its most awful form, by characters the 
 most venerable, in the darkness of night, under the canoj^y 
 of heaven, with the solemnities of religion, and with an 
 authority which legal institution and public opinion had 
 assimilated rather with the decrees of conscience and of 
 the gods, than with the ordinary power of human tri- 
 bunals. 
 
 3. He would look around on many an immortal trophy 
 of architect and sculptor, where genius had triumphed, but 
 triumphed only in the cause of that idolatry to which they 
 were dedicated, and for which they existed. And beyond 
 the city, clinging round its temples, like its inhabitants to 
 their enshrined idols, would open on his view that lovely 
 countrv, and the sublime ocean, and the serene heavens 
 bending over them, and bearing that testimony to the uni- 
 versal Creator which man and man's Avorks withheld. 
 
 4. And with all would Grecian glory be connected, — 
 the brightness of a day that was closing, and of a sun that 
 had already set, where recollections of grandeur faded into 
 sensations of melancholy. And he would gaze on a thi'ong- 
 ino- auditory, the representatives, to his fancy, of all that 
 had been, and of all that was ; and think of the intel' 
 lects with which he had to grapple, and of the hearts 
 
462 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 in whose very core he aimed to plant the barbed arrows 
 of conviction. 
 
 5. There was that multitude, so acute, so inquisitive, so 
 polished, so athirst for novelty, and so impressible by elo- 
 quence ; yet with whom a barbarian accent might break 
 the charm of the most persuasive tongue ; over whom 
 their own oligarchy of orators would soon re-assert their 
 dominion, in spite of the invasion of a stranger ; and with 
 whom sense, feeling, and habit would throw up all their 
 barriers against the eloquence of Christianity. 
 
 6. There would be the priest, astonished at an attempt 
 so daring ; and as the speaker's design opened on his 
 mind, anxiously, and with alternate contempt and rage, 
 measuring the strength of the Samson who thus grasped 
 the pillars of his temple, threatening to whelm him, his 
 altars, and his gods, beneath their ruins. There would be 
 the stoic, in the coldness of his pride, looking sedately 
 down, as on a child playing with children, to see what new 
 game was afloat, and what trick or toy was now produced 
 for wonderment. 
 
 7. There would be the epicurean, tasting, as it were, the 
 preacher's doctrine, to see if it promised aught of merri- 
 ment ; just lending enough of idle attention not to lose 
 amusement should it offer, and venting the full explosion 
 of his ridicule on the resurrection of the dead. There the 
 sophist, won, perhaps, into something of- an approving and 
 complacent smile by the dexterity of Paul's introduction, 
 but finding, as he proceeded, that this was no mere show 
 of art, or war of words, and vibrating between the habitual 
 love of entangling, bewildering, and insulting an opponent, 
 and the repulsiveness which there always is to such men in 
 the language of honest and zealous conviction. 
 
 8. There the slave, timidly crouching at a distance to 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 463 
 
 catch what stray sounds the winds might waft to him, after 
 they had reached his master's ears, of that doctrine, so 
 strange and blessed, of man's fraternity. And there the 
 young and noble Roitian, who had come to Athens for edu- 
 cation, — not to sit like a, Immble scholar at a master's feet, 
 but, with all the pride of Rome upon his brow, to accept 
 what artists, poets, and philosophers could offer as their 
 homage to the lords of earth. 
 
 9. If for a moment Paul felt as one would think man 
 must feel at being the central object of such a scene and 
 such an assemblage, there would rush upon his mind the 
 majesty of Jehovah ; and the words of the glorified Jesus ; 
 and the thunders that struck him to the earth on the road 
 to Damascus ; and the sense of former efforts, conflicts, 
 and successes ; and the approach of that judgment to 
 come, whose righteousness and universality it was now his 
 duty to announce. 
 
 10. Unappalled and collected, he began: — "Ye men 
 of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too super- 
 stitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, 
 I found an altar with this inscription. To the unknown 
 God. Whom, therefore, ye ignorantly worship. Him de- 
 clare I unto you. God that made the world, and all 
 things therein, seeing that He is Lord of heaven and 
 earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands ; neither 
 is worshiped with men's hands, as though He needed any 
 thing ; seeing He giveth, to all, life, and breath, and all 
 things ; and hath made of one blood all nations of men for 
 to dwell on all the face of the earth."* 
 
 * Acts 17th chap., 22-26th verses. 
 
464 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSOI^ CL. 
 
 TRUTH AND FREEDOM. 
 
 WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER. 
 
 .QN 
 
 the page that is immortal, 
 We the brilHant promise see : 
 Ye shall know the truth, my peop\t5, 
 And its might shall make you free ! '* 
 
 2. For the truth, then, let us battle. 
 
 Whatsoever fate betide : 
 Long the boast that we are freemen 
 We have made, and published wide. 
 
 3. He who has the truth, and keeps it. 
 
 Keeps what not to him belongs. 
 But performs a selfish action. 
 That his fellow-mortal wrono-s. 
 
 4. He who seeks the truth, and tremblet 
 
 At the dangers he must brave, 
 Is not fit to be a freeman : 
 He, at best, is but a slave. 
 
 6. He who liears the truth, and places 
 Its high promptings under ban, 
 Loud may boast of all that's manly, 
 But can never be a man. 
 
 6. Friend, this simple lay who readest, 
 Be not thou like either them. 
 But to truth give utmost freedom ; 
 And the tide it raises, stem. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 465 
 
 7. Bold in speech, and bold in action, 
 
 Be forever ! Time will test, 
 Of the free-souled and the slavish, 
 Which fulfills life's mission best. 
 
 8. Be thou like the noble ancient, — 
 
 Scorn the threat that bids thee fear : 
 Speak ! — no matter what betide thee : 
 Let them strike, but make them hear I 
 
 9. Be thou like the first apostles, 
 
 Be thou like heroic Paul : 
 If a free thought seeks expression, 
 Speak it boldly, speak it all ! 
 
 10. Face thine enemies — accusers ; 
 Scorn the prison, rack, or rod ; 
 And, if thou hast truth to utter, 
 Speak, and leave the rest to God ! 
 
 LESSO:^ CLI. 
 NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPING. 
 
 II. A. GERE. 
 
 1. TTE is not dead ; he is but sleeping ,- 
 (pZ.) J_J_ The cold, cold grave is only keeping 
 The dust to dust returning : 
 Death could not claim the soul immortal ; 
 For angels from the heavenly portal 
 Bent o'er with eager yearning. 
 30 
 
466 SANDERS' UNION SEEIE8. 
 
 2. They saw the failing life-blood quiver, 
 
 As soul and flesh neared Death's dark river, 
 
 And at its billows parted ; 
 Then bore to Heaven with holy voicings 
 The ransomed spirit amid rejoicings, — 
 
 The youthful, noble-hearted. 
 
 3. They left within the house of mourning 
 The casket, robbed of its adorning, — 
 
 The soul that never slumbers : 
 All beauteous was it yet in seeming, 
 As one who sleeps in quiet dreaming, 
 
 Or lists to pleasant numbers. 
 
 4. And it was strano;e to see him lyinor 
 Arrayed in vestments of the dying ; 
 
 Oh, it was sad and dreary! 
 For he was young, and bright, and blooming, 
 With ardent hopes before him looming. 
 
 And heart that ne'er was weary. 
 
 5. The good and right with boldness doing, 
 The better path in all pursuing. 
 
 And faithful in each duty, 
 His life was one harmonious blending. 
 To all a gracious influence lending, 
 
 So full of truth and beauty. 
 
 6. But all is o'er : each young ambition 
 Burned brightly till his youthful mission 
 
 Drew near its final closing; 
 Then, unto God his spirit giving. 
 He ceased to labor with the living. 
 
 And slept in sweet reposing. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 467 
 
 And though the grave his form is keeping, 
 He is not dead, he is but sleeping. 
 
 To wake to joys supernal : 
 One seraph more in Heaven is dwelling. 
 One more redeemed the chorus swelling, 
 
 To praise the great Eternal. 
 
 LESSON CLII. 
 
 ^ Sis' t phus, (in mythology,) a king of Corinth, son of Mollis, famed for 
 his cunning. He was killed by Theseus, and condemned by Pluto to 
 roll to the top of a hill a huge stone, which constantly recoiled, and 
 • made his task incessant. 
 
 - He rod'' o tus, a native of Halicarnassus, a Dorian city in Asia Minor, 
 was born 484 B.C. He has been styled the " Father of History." To 
 collect the necessary materials for his great work, he visited almost 
 every part of Greece and its dependencies, and many other countries, 
 investigating minutely the history, manners, and customs of the people. 
 His history consists of nine books, which bear the names of the Nine 
 Muses. Next to the Iliad and Odyssey, the history of Herodotus is 
 one of the greatest works of Greek literary genius. 
 
 'Di o do'rus, a famous Greek historian, first century b.c, was the author 
 of a universal history of forty book's, of which only fifteen and some 
 fragments are extant. 
 
 THE SPHINX AND THE GREAT PYRAMID. 
 
 REV. S. 1. PRIME. 
 
 AS we approached the edge of the desert, we encountered 
 a storm of sand that was borne through the air, and 
 cut off all view of the Pyramids until we were almost upon 
 them. At length, we see them in the midst of this myste- 
 rious cloud, sublime and solemn, the mighty memorials of 
 a dim and distant past. They are even more sublime as 
 we now behold them in the sands of the desert, which 
 
468 SANDERS' UNION SEEIES. 
 
 seems to be aroused like the ocean, and is rising and curl- 
 ing around the heads of these hoary sentinels. 
 
 2. The sand-storm became so furious, that some of the 
 beasts refused to proceed against it, and actually turned 
 around, and headed the other way, until its violence was 
 past. Happily, it was of short continuance ; and it afforded 
 us a fine opportunity of witnessing one of those terrible 
 commotions, which, when encountered on the desert, often 
 prove terribly fatal to the unhappy caravans they over- 
 take. The storm is over ; the sun returns. Before us are 
 the Pyramids, and in their midst the mighty Sphinx look- 
 ing out upon the plain. 
 
 3. I confess to a strange, almost superstitious feeling as 
 I halted before the Sphinx, and gazed upward on this silent 
 and mighty monument, — a huge form, rising sixty feet 
 from the ground, one hundred and forty feet long, and the 
 head more than a hundred feet in circumference, with 
 mutilated but yet apparent human features, looking out 
 toward the fertile land and the Nile. It suddenly im- 
 pressed me as it were indeed the divinity of ancient 
 Egypt. The Arabs of the present day call it '' The 
 Father of Terror," or immensity. 
 
 4. An ignorant people might be easily tempted to regard 
 it with reverence and fear. In its state of pristine perfec- 
 tion, no single statue in Egypt could have vied with it. 
 When the lower part of the figure, which had been cov- 
 ered up with the sand, was at length uncovered for a while 
 by the laborious and Sisyphus ^-like toil, (the sand slipping 
 down almost as fast as it could be removed,) it presented 
 the appearance of an enormous couchant Sphinx, with 
 gigantic paws, between which crouched, as if for protec 
 tion, a miniature temple, with a platform and flights of 
 steps for approaching it, with others leading down fror^ 
 the plain above. 
 
UNION FIFTH READER. 469 
 
 5. A crude brick wall protected it from the sand. It is 
 hardly possible to conceive a more strange and imposing 
 spectacle than it must have formerly presented to the wor- 
 shiper, advancing as he did along this avenue of approach, 
 confined between the sand- walls of the ravine, and looking 
 up over the temple to the colossal head of the tutelary 
 deity, which beamed down upon him from an altitude of 
 sixty feet with an aspect of god-like benignity. 
 
 6. As yet, no entrance has been effected; and it is 
 probably carved from the solid rock. Neither is there 
 reason to suppose that it had relation to the Pyramids, in 
 whose vicinity it stands. I think it very strange that 
 Herodotus^ makes no mention of the Sphinx, nor Diodo- 
 rus,^ nor, indeed, any ancient author before the Roman 
 age, though its great antiquity is well established by the 
 inscriptions that are found upon It. 
 
 7. The statue seems to be crumbling; and the head has 
 been so mutilated, that the cap which formerly covered it, 
 and the beard, are nearly all gone. I rode around it, and 
 then walked out on the wave of sand to the pedestal, and 
 crept along as nearly under the monster as I could get, 
 and found that the sense of veneration wore away as I 
 became familiar with the mass of stone that stands here so 
 mysteriously, — a greater wonder. In my view, than the 
 Pyramids themselves. What Is Its original design ? Who 
 made It ? These are questions never to be answered by 
 any thing safer than conjecture. 
 
 8. Doubtless the Sphinx was an object of worship, and 
 was carved out of a rock in the Lyblan range for that pur- 
 pose. Viewed in this light, or even in the dim twilight of 
 utter ignorance, as to Its design, It certainly remains the 
 most mysterious and Impressive of the monuments of 
 Egypt. If these lips could speak, what a story would 
 
470 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 they tell ! If these eyes could see, on what wondrous 
 scenes they would have looked in the four thousand years 
 that those stone orbs have been gazing upon the plains of 
 Egypt ! — the rising and retiring of her wonderful river, 
 coming like a divinity to prepare her^bosom for the seed, 
 and then retiring that the flower and fruits may gladden 
 the soil, and reward the laborer's toil. 
 
 9. Size of the Great Pyramid. — Have you ever 
 stood in the center of a twelve-acre lot ? Mark off in 
 your mind's plantation twelve acres, and cover the ground 
 with layers of huge hewn stone, so nicely fitted that the 
 joints can scarcely be discerned. Over this platform, but 
 two feet within the outer edge, put on another layer, and 
 another, leaving but a single narrow passage into a few 
 smaller chambers in the far interior of this immense mass, 
 that rises by gradually diminishing layers as it ascends, till 
 it reaches an apex twice the hight of the loftiest church- 
 spire in New York, and you have some idea of the outer 
 dimensions of the Great Pyramid. 
 
 10. At the first sight of this long-expected wonder, we 
 •are not instantly overwhelmed with the magnitude of the 
 pile. It takes some time to adjust one's mind to the 
 object ; and probably not one man in a thousand would 
 believe that this pyramid covers five, much less that it 
 covers ten, and even twelve or thirteen, acres of earth. 
 But it is even so. And, as greatness and mystery are ele- 
 ments of the highest sublimity, we are excited the longer 
 we contemplate these mighty structures, and strive to get 
 them fairly within the grasp of the mind. They grow 
 every moment we look upon them. They begin to take 
 us in, and we feel ourselves gradually absorbed by the 
 grandeur of the monument that forbids, yet invites us to 
 enter its mysterious portals. 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 471 
 
 LESSON CLIIL 
 
 ^ Par' the non, a celebrated temple of Minerva at Athens, in Greece. 
 - Col OS se' um. See note, page 333. 
 
 'Alham'bra, a palace of the Moorish kings at Granada, affording an 
 unusually fine exhibition of Saracenic architecture. 
 
 * Moor, a native of the countries now called Morocco, Tunis, Algiers, and 
 
 Tripoli, on the northern coast of Africa. 
 
 * Py tiiag' o ras, a Greek philosopher, born about 570 years B.C. He 
 
 taught the doctrine of metempsycho' sis, or transmigration of souls 
 through different orders of animal existence. 
 
 * Ho' MER. See note, page 106. 
 
 ANTIQUITY OF EGYPT. 
 
 MRS. E. OAKES smith. 
 
 " rpHERE were giants in the land in those days." * 
 i Thus, in tlie very language of Scripture, one is led 
 to exclaim, when contemplating Egypt, the mother of civ- 
 ilization, the cradle of the arts, the one kingdom standing 
 alone among the ancient things of earth, — the ancient 
 among all that is old. While its origin is lost amid a dark 
 and obscure mythology, Egypt has lived in the magnifi- 
 cence of its own ruins to witness kinsidoms and dvnasties 
 rise, flourish, and disappear under the unfailing progress 
 of time ; and nations, onde the glory and terror of the 
 earth, fade away, till their memory is to be sought in the 
 remains of their genius, their works of taste, or the splen- 
 dor of their ruins. 
 
 2. Egypt remains, shorn of her beams, it is true, yet 
 does she live with a name as enduring as the materials of 
 which her stupendous and giant-like monuments are con- 
 structed. Carry the mind back to the time when the 
 
 * Genesis, 6th chap., 4th verse. 
 
472 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Tiber, with its vines and olives, glided in solitary beauty 
 between its verdant banks, and the seven hills, crowned 
 with vegetation to their very summits, resounded only to 
 the melody of the wild bird or the tread of the ferocious 
 beast, ere Romulus had laid the foundations even of the 
 "Eternal City," and what was Egypt then? 
 
 3. She had become ruinous witli age : her surplus popu- 
 lation had, centuries before, carried the arts to other lands, 
 and peopled kingdoms that were the glory of the earth. 
 Greece, retaining the elements of Egyptian greatness, had 
 remodeled every thing with a lighter and more exuberant 
 taste ; the superb grandeur of the original country had 
 yielded to the elegant fancy of a refined and chastened 
 judgment ; and arts and literature, freed from the tlirall- 
 dom of a gloomy priesthood, started at once to life, like the 
 fabled goddess, armed and full-grown. 
 
 4. Surely " there were giants in the land in those 
 days," we involuntarily exclaim when beholding the stu- 
 pendous works of human labor that date their origin to a 
 period anterior to any certain records. The mountain of 
 solid granite has been excavated into an idolatrous temple, 
 and the chisel of the artist has wrought upon its surface 
 immense figures of men, who, thousands and thousands 
 of years ago, figured upon the arena of life, and performed 
 the exploits there recorded. 
 
 5. There are the mementoes of their greatness, though 
 their names have long since passed away, and are forgot- 
 ten. Yet there stand those colossal men, the champions 
 of ancient Egypt, living in imperishable granite, looking 
 from the sepulcher of centuries upon the generations that 
 stare in wonderment upon them, not one of whom can lift 
 the vail which time has thrown over their name and 
 deeds. The history of the whole world, so far as it is now 
 
UNION FIFTH KEADEE. 473 
 
 known to man, might have been written as it transpired, 
 upon the surface of tlie Pyramids, and yet the shadows of 
 unknown times would rest upon their summits. 
 
 6. We must go back to a period long prior to any cer- 
 tain chronology, if we would even attempt to form a con- 
 ception of the refinement and resources of this wonderful 
 people. We must violate the gloomy sanctuary of the 
 mausoleum and catacomb, be able to interpret the hiero- 
 glyphics of their decaying temples, and, wandering amid 
 their time-honored Pyramids, be gifted with a mental vision 
 that penetrates the dim twilight of ages, if we would solve 
 the mystery of the early Egyptians. 
 
 7. Egypt, amid the nations of the earth, reminds us, if 
 we may " compare great things with small," of the old oak 
 that has braved the storms and the changes of a thousand 
 years, and beheld sapling after sapling rise in its shadow, 
 grow to maturity and decay, while its own form became 
 but the more venerable with the moss of aores. The Par- 
 thenon,^ the Colosseum,'^ and the Palace of the Alhambra,^ 
 have each been the pride and glory of their respective na- 
 tions, and are now venerable in ruins ; but neither the 
 elegant Greek, the stern Roman, nor the haughty Moor,'* 
 could, more than ourselves, penetrate the obscurity that 
 vails the builders of these vast edifices, which vie in dura- 
 bility with the " everlasting hills." 
 
 8. It was here that Herodotus, Pythagoras,^ Homer ,^ 
 and all the wise and gifted of Greece, sat at the feet of an 
 Egyptian priesthood, and imbibed those lessons of wisdom 
 
 ,and knowledge which they were to convey to their own 
 soil, where, touched by a livelier fancy and more elegant 
 taste, they were to produce works that remain to this day, 
 the wonder and admiration of the world. 
 
474 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSOK CLIV. 
 CHOICE EXTRACTS. 
 
 I. 
 
 BUGLE SONG. 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 « 
 
 1. rPHE splendor falls on castle walls, 
 X And snowy summits old in story ; 
 The long light shakes across the lakes, 
 
 And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
 Blow, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying ; 
 Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, — dying, dying, dying ! 
 
 2. O hark ! O hear ! how thin and .clear, 
 
 And thinner, clearer, farther going I 
 O sweet and far, from cliff and scar. 
 
 The horns of Elf-land faintly blowing ! 
 Blow ! let us hear the purple glens replying : 
 Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, — dying, dying, dying ! 
 
 3. O love ! they die in yon rich sky ; 
 
 They faint on hill, or field, or river ! 
 Our echoes roll from soul to soul. 
 
 And grow forever and forever. 
 Blow, bugle, blow ! set the wild echoes flying ; 
 And answer, echoes, answer, — dying, dying, dying ! 
 
UNION FIFTH HEADER 475 
 
 II. 
 
 THE AGE OF PROGRESS. 
 
 CHARLES SUMNER. 
 
 1. The age of chivalry has gone. An age of hu- 
 manity has come. The horse, whose importance, more 
 than human, gave the name to that early period of gallant- 
 ry and war, now yields his foremost place to man. In 
 serving him, in promoting his elevation, in contributing to 
 his welfare, in doing him good, there are fields of bloodless 
 triumph, nobler far than any in which the bravest knight 
 ever conquered. Here are spaces of labor, wide as the 
 world, lofty as heaven. 
 
 2. Let me say, then, in the benison once bestowed upon 
 the youthful knight, — Scholars, jurists, artists, philanthro- 
 pists, heroes of a Christian age, companions of a celestial 
 knighthood, " Go forth. Be brave, loyal, and successful ! " 
 And may it be our office to light a fresh beacon-fire sacred 
 to truth ! Let the flame spread from hill to hill, from 
 island to island, from continent to continent, till the long 
 lineage of fires shall illumine ^all the nations of the earth, 
 animating them to the holy contests of Knowledge, Jus- 
 tice, Beauty, Love. # 
 
 III. 
 
 CLEAR THE WAY. 
 
 1. There's a fount about to stream, 
 There's a light about to beam. 
 There's a warmth about to glow. 
 There's a flower about to blow. 
 There's a midnight blackness changing 
 
 Into gray : 
 Men of thought, and men of uction, 
 
 Clear the way ! 
 
m 
 
 476 SANDEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. Aid the dawning, tongue and pen ; 
 Aid it, hopes of honest men ; 
 Aid it, paper ; aid it, type ; 
 Aid it, for the hour is ripe. 
 And our earnest must not slacken 
 
 Into play : 
 Men of thought, and men of action. 
 Clear the way ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 OUR SAGES AND HEROES. 
 
 CHARLES SPRAGUE. 
 
 To the sages who spoke, to the heroes who bled. 
 
 To the day and the deed, strike the harp-strings of glory ! 
 Let the song of the ransomed remember the dead. 
 And the tongue of the eloquent hallow the story ! 
 O'er the bones of the bold 
 Be that story long told, 
 And on Fame's golden tablets their triumphs enrolled, 
 Who on Freedom's green hills Freedom's banner unfurled. 
 And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world ! 
 
 II. 
 
 They are gone, mighty men ; and they sleep in their fame I 
 
 Shall we ever forget them ? Oh, never ! no, never ! 
 Let our sons learn from us to embalm each great name. 
 And the anthem send down, " Independence forever ! " 
 Wake, wake, heart and tongue ! 
 Keep the theme ever young ; 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADER. 477 
 
 Let their deeds through the long line of ages be sung, 
 Who on Freedom's green hills Freedom's banner unfurled, 
 And the beacon-fire raised that gave light to the world I 
 
 V. 
 
 THE AMERICAN UNION. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time 
 the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken 
 and dishonored fragments of a once-glorious Union ; on 
 States dissevered, discordant, belligerent ; on a land rent 
 with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! 
 Let their last feeble and lino-ering; glance rather behold the 
 gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored 
 throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and 
 trophies streaming in their original luster, not a stripe 
 erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, bearing for 
 its motto no such miserable interrogatory as, " What is all 
 this worth ? " nor those other words of delusion and folly, 
 " Liberty first, and Union afterward ; " but everywhere, 
 spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all 
 its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, 
 and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other 
 sentiment, dear to every true American heart, — Liberty 
 AND Union, now and forever, one and inseparable ! 
 
 VI. 
 EXPULSION FROM PARADISE. 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 O unexpected stroke ! worse than of death ! 
 
 Must I leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave 
 
 Thee, native soil ? these happy walks and shades, 
 
478 SAN'DEES' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Fit haunt of gods, where I had hoped to spend 
 
 Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day 
 
 That must be mortal to us both ? O flowers I 
 
 Tliat never will in other climate grow, 
 
 My early visitation and my last 
 
 At even, which I bred up with tender hand 
 
 From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, — 
 
 Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank 
 
 Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ? 
 
 Thee, lastly, nuptial bower ! by me adorned 
 
 With what to sight or smell was s^weet, — from thee 
 
 How shall I part ? and whither wander down 
 
 Into a lower world, to this obscure 
 
 And wild ? How shall we breathe in other air 
 
 Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits ? 
 
 vn. 
 
 WASHINGTON'S MONUMENT. 
 
 R. C. WINTHROP. 
 
 1. The wide-spread Republic is the true monument to 
 Washington. Maintain its independence ; uphold its Con- 
 stitution ; preserve its union ; defend its liberty ; let it 
 stand before the world in all its original strength and 
 beauty, securing peace, order, equality, and freedom to all 
 within its boundaries, and shedding light, and hope, and 
 joy upon the pathway of human liberty throughout the 
 Avorld, — and Washington needs no other monument. 
 Other structures may fitly testify our veneration for him: 
 this, tliis alone, can adequately illustrate his services to 
 mankind. 
 
 2. Nor does he need even this. The Republic may 
 perish ; the wide arch of our ranged Union may fall ; star 
 
UNION FIFTH EEADEE. 479 
 
 by star its glories may expire ; stone by stone its columns 
 and its Capitol may molder and crumble ; all other names 
 which adorn its annals may be forgotten : but as long as 
 human hearts shall anywhere pant, or human tongues shall 
 anywhere plead, for a true, rational, constitutional hberty, 
 those hearts shall enshrine the memory, and those tongues 
 lorolong the fame, of George Washington ! 
 
 VIII. 
 THE LORD OUR PROVIDER. 
 
 WORDSWOliTH. 
 
 Author of being, life-sustaining King, 
 
 Lo ! Want's dependent eye from Thee implores 
 The seasons, which provide nutritious stores : 
 
 Give to her prayers the renovating Spring, 
 
 And Summer-heats all perfecting, that bring 
 
 The fruits which Autumn from a thousand stores 
 Selecteth provident, when Earth adores 
 
 Her God, and all her vales exulting sing. 
 
 Without Thy blessing, the submissive steer 
 Bends to the plowman's galling yoke in vain ; 
 
 Without Thy blessing on the varied year. 
 
 Can the swarth reaper grasp the golden grain' ? 
 
 Without Thy blessing, all is black and drear ; 
 With it, the joys of Eden bloom again. 
 
 IX. 
 
 MORAL AND REPUBLICAN PRINCIPLES. 
 
 EDWARD EVERETT. 
 
 1. War may stride over the land with the crushing step 
 of a giant ; pestilence may steal over it like an invisible 
 curse, reaching its victim silently and unseen, unpeopling 
 
480 SANDERS' UJ^ION SERIES. 
 
 here a village, and there a city, until every dwelling is a 
 sepulcher ; famine may brood over it with a long and 
 weary visitation, until the sky itself is brazen, and the 
 beautiful greenness gives place to a parched desert, a 
 wide waste of unproductive desolation : but these are only 
 physical evils. The wild flower will bloom in peace on 
 the field of battle and above the crushed skeleton. The 
 destroying angel of the pestilence will retire when his 
 errand is" done, and the nation will again breathe freely ; 
 and the barrenness of famine will cease at last, — the 
 cloud will be prodigal of its hoarded rain, and the wilder- 
 ness will blossom. 
 
 2. But for moral desolation there is no reviving spring. 
 Let the moral and republican principles of our country be 
 abandoned ; let impudence, and corruption, and intrigue 
 triumph over honesty and intellect, — and our liberties and 
 strength will depart forever. Of these there can be no 
 resuscitation. The '' abomination of desolation " will be 
 fixed and perpetual ; and, as the mighty fabric of our 
 glory totters into ruins, the nations of the earth will mock 
 us in our overthrow, like the powers of darkness, when the 
 throned one of Babylon became even as themselves, and 
 the "glory of the Chaldees' excellency had gone down 
 forever." 
 
 THE END. 
 
GENERAL LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA— BERKELEY 
 
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