^"~V
 
 THE 
 
 RHETORICAL READER, 
 
 CONSISTING 
 
 INSTRUCTIONS FOR REGULATING THE VOICE, 
 
 WITH A 
 
 . 
 
 RHETORICAL NOTATION, 
 
 ILLUSTRATING INFLECTION, EMPHASIS AND MODULATION ; 
 
 AND A COURSE OF 
 
 RHETORICAL EXERCISES. 
 
 DESIGNED FOR THE USE OF ACADEMIES AND HIGH-SCHOOLS. 
 
 BY EBENEZER PORTER, D.D., 
 
 LA.TK PRESIDENT OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, ANDOVKR. 
 
 NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY MARK H. NEWMAN & CO., 
 No. 199 BROADWAY 
 
 1848.
 
 \ 
 
 > N * 
 
 '/' -V 
 
 EJCTIRID, accordiog to Act of Coagmw, la tb year 183S, by 
 
 PLAGO k. GOULD, 
 ! the Clerk's Ofllee of the Diitrlct Court of Manachaiettt. 
 
 BmEBD, ecnrdm to Ace of Conpen la the yew IMS, by 
 
 MARK II. MEWMA.V i 
 In Ibe Clerk 1 . Office for Ibe Sotuteni Diitrlcl of New York.
 
 x ' 'V 
 
 REFACE 
 
 THOUGH for many years after I began to investigate the 
 principles of rhetorical delivery, I had no intention of writing 
 any thing on the subject for publication, I was at last drawn 
 into this measure, gradually and almost unavoidably. The 
 bad habits in elocution, acquired by many educated young 
 men, and confirmed with little regard to consequences, as 
 they passed from one stage of education to another, it was 
 easy to see must become at once equally conspicuous and 
 injurious, so soon as they should pass from academical life 
 into a public profession in which good speaking is a prime in- 
 strument of usefulness. The last Seminary too which had 
 them in charge, would, by a misapprehension not very un- 
 natural, be made responsible, not merely for its own propor- 
 tion, but for the whole of these defects. The only remedy 
 for habits thus firmly established, obviously must lie in a 
 patient, elementary process, adapted to form new habits. 
 After a sufficient experiment to satisfy me that Walker's 
 elements, as a text-book, could pot answer this purpose, I 
 prepared a course of Lectures on the subject. One of these, 
 " on Vocal Inflections," I consented to print at the request 
 and for the use of the Theological Students, to whom it had 
 been read ; but without any intention that it should be pub- 
 lished. The pamphlet, however, went abroad, and led to 
 applications from respectable gentlemen, connected with col- 
 leges and other literary institutions, that I would prepare a 
 book of the same description, to be used in this department 
 of a liberal education. Accordingly I did prepare the " ANAL- 
 YSIS OF RHETORICAL DELIVERY." 
 
 The preparation of that work, my own use of it as a 
 Teacher, and the testimony of others, who had used it, con-
 
 IT PREFACE. 
 
 vinced me, soon after its publication, that t the chief princi- 
 ples it contains may be understood and applied by pupils 
 much younfffr than those I had originally contemplated. 
 Teachers of Academies and High Schools, who professed to 
 hare derived much assistance from the ANALYSIS, urged me 
 to prepare a cheaper book, on the same plan, adapted to the 
 use of their pupils. This I promised to do, should health and 
 engagements permit; but the execution has been delayed, 
 as involving a sacrifice of the time which I earnestly wished 
 to devote to the more appropriate and sacred duties of my of- 
 fice ; and had not one branch of these duties rendered me 
 necessarily familiar with the general subject of this volume, 
 the purpose must have been relinquished. 
 
 I have been the more cheerful, however, in this under, 
 taking, from a full conviction that whatever is accomplished 
 on this subject in classical schools, is a clear gain to profes- 
 sional education for the pulpit. To no possible case, more 
 than to this, is the maxim applicable, " Prevention is easier 
 than cure." Faults which almost defy correction, might 
 easily have been avoided by skill and pains in forming the 
 early habits. 
 
 I am aware that there is already an ample supply of books, 
 furnish excellent reading lessons, without professing to 
 give any instruction in the art of reading. But the want of 
 an elementary book for common use, in which the principle* 
 of this art should be laid down, with Rhetorical Exercises, 
 selected expressly to illustrate these principles, has been ex- 
 tensively felt as a great deficiency. The RHETORICAL READ- 
 ER is intended to supply this deficiency. The first third of 
 its matter, is an abridgment of the ANALYSIS, though with 
 new discussion and elucidation of some important principles, 
 which will be found chiefly under the articles, Rrwi 
 Emphatic Inflection, Quantity, and Compost of Voice. 
 In respect to about two-thirds of its contents, the book is 
 new ; including thp original matter just mentioned, and a
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 new selection of exercises for Part II. This selection has 
 been made with much care and from an extensive range of 
 writers, British and American. In making it, regard has 
 been paid, first to the moral sentiment of the pieces, as suit- 
 ed to make a safe and useful impression on the young ; next 
 to that rhetorical execution which may elevate their taste ; 
 and finally to such variety and vivacity, in the subjects and 
 kinds of composition, as may sustain an undiminished interest 
 throughout. 
 
 To attain brevity in each Exercise, the connection of the 
 writer has sometimes been broken by omissions longer or 
 shorter, without notice ; the mention of which fact in this 
 manner, I hope may be sufficient, without further apology. 
 
 A word of explanation is necessary on another point. It 
 was my intention to include in the Exercises, Part II., a great- 
 er proportion of extracts from the Bible, than I have done in 
 Part I. ; both because I think it furnishes many of the best 
 lessons for rhetorical reading ; and because the book which, 
 more than all others, is adapted to promote the sanctification 
 and salvation of the young, has been too much neglected in 
 all departments of education. But as I wished to make this 
 selection, not for the young merely, but also with a special 
 view to those who are called to read the Bible as heads of 
 families, or still more publicly as preachers of the Gospel, 
 sufficient room for it could not be found in the present vol- 
 ume. I therefore concluded to defer this part of my plan, 
 with the hope that I may compile a separate collection of 
 BIBLICAL EXERCISES, of perhaps 150 pages, to which a rhe- 
 torical notation will be applied, and which may be a proper 
 sequel both to the ANALYSIS, and RHETORICAL READER. 
 
 Should this little book be found useful in advancing the 
 interests of Christian Education the best wishes of its author 
 will be answered. 
 
 E. PORTER. 
 
 Theological Seminary, 
 
 Andover, May, 1831.
 
 REMARKS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 To those who may use this book, I have thought it proper 
 to make the following preparatory suggestions. 
 
 1. In a large number of those who are to be taught read- 
 ing and speaking, the first difficulty to be encountered arises 
 from bad habits previously contracted. The most ready 
 way to overcome these, is to go directly into the analysis of 
 vocal sounds, as they occur in conversation. But to change 
 a settled habit, even in trifles, often requires perseverance 
 for a long time ; of course it is not the work of a moment, to 
 transform a heavy, uniform movement of voice, into one that 
 is easy, discriminating, and forcible. This is to be accom- 
 plished, not by a few irresolute, partial attempts, but by a 
 steadiness of purpose, and of effort, corresponding with the 
 importance of the end to be achieved. Nor should it seem 
 strange if, in this process of transformation, the subject of it 
 should at first appear somewhat artificial and constrained in 
 manner. More or less of this inconvenience is unavoidable, 
 in all important changes of habit. The young pupil in cliimir- 
 raphy never can become an elegant penman, till his bad hahit 
 of holding the pen is broken up ; though for a time the change 
 may have made him write worse than before. In respect 
 to Elocution, as well as every other art, the case may be in 
 some measure similar. But let the new manner become so 
 familiar as to have in its favor the advantages of habit, and 
 the difficulty ceases. 
 
 2. The pupil should learn the distinction of inflections, by 
 reading the familiar examples under one rule, occasionally 
 turning to the Exercises, when more examples are necessary ; 
 iiiid the Teacher's voice should set him right whenever he 
 aakes a mistake. In the same manner, he should go 
 
 !i ;ill the rules successively. If he acquires th. 
 ; o great or too little extent to his slides of 
 ho should be carefully corrected, according to the sugges- 
 tions gn<'n. p '-'" and 110. After getting the command of 
 the voice, the great point to be steadily kept in view, is to 
 apply the principles of emphasis and inflection, just as nature
 
 DIRECTIONS TO TKACHERS. Vll 
 
 and sentiment demand. In respect to those principles of 
 modulation, in which the power of the voice so essentially 
 consists, we should always remember too, that, as no theory 
 of the passions can teach one to be pathetic, so no descrip- 
 tion that can be given of the inflection, emphasis, and tones, 
 which accompany emotion, can impart this emotion, or be a 
 substitute for it. No adequate description indeed can be 
 given of the nameless and ever varying shades of expression, 
 which real pathos gives to the voice. Precepts here are only 
 subsidiary helps to genius and sensibility. 
 
 3. Before any example or exercise is read to the Teach- 
 er, it should be studied by the pupil. At the time of reading, 
 he should generally go through, without interruption; and 
 then the Teacher should explain any fault, and correct it by the 
 example of his own voice, requiring the parts to be repeated. 
 It would be useful often to inquire why such a modification 
 of voice occurs, in such a place, and how a change of struc- 
 ture would vary the inflection, stress, &c. ; in other words, to 
 accustom the pupil to paraphrase the meaning conveyed by 
 different expressions of voice ; as in the example, p. 32, at 
 the close of Rule IV., and p. 43, bottom. When the exam- 
 ples are short, as in all the former part of the work, reference 
 may easily be made to any sentence ; and in the long exam- 
 ples, the lines are numbered on the left hand of the page, 
 to facilitate the reference, after a passage has been read. 
 If an Exercise is read by a class in turn, it would be useful, 
 at least occasionally, to call on two or more of the number 
 to remark on the manner of the reader, proposing corrections, 
 with reasons, before the remarks of the Teacher are made. 
 This will render them vigilant and intelligent, in the constant, 
 practical application of theoretic principles; thus leading 
 them to regard a proper management of voice as both an art 
 and a science. 
 
 4. When any portion of the Exercises is about to be 
 committed to memory for declamation, the pupil should first 
 study the sentiment carefully, entering as far as possible, into 
 the spirit of the author ; then transcribe it in a fair hand ; 
 then mark with pencil, the inflections, emphasis, &c., required 
 on different words ; then read it rhetorically to his Teacher, 
 changing his pencil marks as the case may require ; and then 
 commit it to memory perfectly, before it is spoken ; as any 
 labor of recollection is certainly fatal to freedom, and variety, 
 and force in speaking. In general it were well that the same
 
 viii i.iKKt-nuNs TO TEACHERS. 
 
 piece should be subsequently mi'-e more repeated, with a 
 view to adopt the suggestions of the Instructor. Fur the pur- 
 pose of improvement in elocution, a piece of four or five 
 minutes, is better than one of fiftem ; and more advance 
 may be made, in managing the voice and countenance, by 
 speaking several limit, a short speech, though an old one, 
 (if it is done with due care each time to con ret what was 
 amiss,) than in speaking ni.-iny l<>n^ pieces, however spirited 
 <>r nr\r, which are but half committed, and in the delivery of 
 which all scope of feeling and adaptation of manner, are 
 frustrated by labor of memory. The attempt to speak with 
 this indolent halting preparation, is in all respects worse than 
 nothing. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ' 
 
 { 
 
 . 
 ft. 
 
 KEY OF RHETORI 
 
 KEY OF INFLECTION. 
 - denotes monotone. 
 
 CAL NOTATION. 
 
 ( ) low. 
 ( 00 ) low and loud. 
 ( ) slow. 
 ( ) quick. 
 
 c 
 ' 
 
 4 
 
 
 
 KEY OF MODULATION. 
 () high. 
 () high and loud. 
 
 ( jj ) rhetorical pause. 
 (<) increase. 
 
 ~^~-^-^'^-^-^-^-^-^------
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 CHAP. I. READING : its connection with good education . . 13 
 
 Grammatical reading .... 21 
 
 Rhetorical Reading . . . . 21 
 
 CHAP. II. ARTICULATION ..... 22 
 
 Causes of defective articulation . . .22 
 
 Difficulty of many consonant sounds . ' . 23 
 
 Immediate succession of similar sounds * .24 
 
 Influence of accent ..... 25 
 
 Tendency to slide over unaccented vowels . . 25 
 
 Cautions ...... 26 
 
 CHAP III. INFLECTIONS ...... 27 
 
 Description of Inflections .... 27 
 
 Classification of Inflections . . . .28 
 
 RULE I. Influence of disjunctive or on Inflection . . 29 
 
 RULE II. Of the Direct Question and its answer . . .29 
 
 RULE III. Of Negation opposed to Affirmation . . 30 
 
 RULE IV. Rising Inflection. Of the pause of Suspension . 31 
 
 RULE V. Of the influence of Tender Emotion on the voice . 32 
 
 RULE VI. Of the Penultimate Pause . . . .33 
 
 Falling Inflection ..... 
 
 RULE VII. Of the indirect Question and its Answer . . 33 
 
 RULE VIII. The language of Authority. Of surprise, &c. . 34 
 
 RULE IX. Emphatic succession of particulars . . .35 
 
 RULE X. Emphatic repetition .... 36 
 
 RULE XI. Final Pause . .... 36 
 
 RULE XII. The Circumflex ..... 37 
 
 CHAP. IV. ACCENT ...... 38 
 
 CHAP. V. EMPHASIS 39 
 
 SECT. I. Emphatic Stress . . . . .39 
 
 Absolute Emphatic Stress .... 41 
 
 Antithetic or Relative Emphatic Stress . . 42 
 
 SECT. 2. Emphatic Inflection .... 43 
 
 Emphatic Clause . . . . .45 
 
 Double Emphasis ..... 46 
 
 CHAP. VI. MODULATION . . . . . .47 
 
 SECT. 1. Faults of Modulation . . . . 47 
 
 Monotony . . . . . .47 
 
 Mechanical Variety .... 48 
 
 SECT. 2. Remedies . . . . . .48 
 
 The spirit of Emphasis to he cultivated . . 48 
 
 A habit of discrimination as to Tones and Inflection . 51 
 
 SECT. 3. Pitch of voice ..... 51 
 
 SECT. 4. Quantity . . . . . .52 
 
 Rotundity and Fullness .... 52 
 
 Loudness . . . . . .54 
 
 Time ...... 54 
 
 Strength of voice depends on good organs of 
 speech. &c.
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 Direction* for preserving and strengthening them . M 
 
 Rale of utterance . 
 
 ECT. 5. Compa of Voice 
 
 SECT. 6. Rhetorical Pause 
 
 SECT. 7. Transition ...... 
 
 SECT. 8. Expression 
 
 SECT. 9. Rhetorical Dialogue ..... 
 SECT. 10. The Reading of Poetry .... 
 CHAP. VII. GESTURE . jj? 
 
 Kxj.ression of countenance 
 
 Altitude ...... 
 
 FaulU of Rhetorical Action 
 
 Gesture may want appropriateness and discrimination 
 
 May be too constant, or violent, or complex, or uniform 7t 
 
 Mechanical variety . 
 
 Use of right hand and left . 
 
 EXERCISES. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Preparatory Remark* 
 
 EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 
 Exercise 1. ... 
 
 I AERCISES ON INFLECTION. 
 Exercise '2. Disjunctive or . . . 
 
 3. Direct Question, &c. . . 
 Conjunctive or . ... 
 
 4. Negation opposed to Affirmation . 
 
 Comparison and Contrast . . . .82 
 
 5. Pause of Suspension 
 
 6. Tender Emotion ..... 
 
 7. Indirect Question, &c. . . 
 
 8. Language of Authority, Surprise, dur. 
 
 9. Emphatic Succession, &c. 
 
 10. Emphatic Repetition . . .99 
 
 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 
 Exercise 1117. Absolute and Relative Stress, and Emphatic ) ]AI 
 
 Inflection . . . . J 
 
 18. Difference between common and Intensive Inflection lit 
 
 ; [8Bfl ON MODULATION. 
 Ex< rcise 19. COMPASS of VOICE ... .1 
 
 TRANSITION ..... 
 
 90. The power of Eloquence 
 JI. lloh'-iiliii.li-n ..... 
 
 23. Battle of Waterloo D'J 
 
 vTl N. fitft 1) .|i|.!.uiit ..... 
 
 94. Marco Bonaris . . . - ' 
 
 95. Extract from Paradise Lost 
 
 EXPRESSION . . . . > .!-'-> 
 
 96. Jodah's Speech to Joseph .... 
 
 97. Joseph disclosing himself .... !-'' 
 
 . 
 Burial of Sir John Moore . . .1 
 
 nirnting the loss of Psradiss . . 129
 
 CONTENTS. XI 
 
 Page 
 
 Exercise 31. Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle . . . .129 
 
 RHETORICAL DIALOGUE .... l3i 
 
 32. Examples from the Bible . . . . I3t 
 
 . EXERCISES. 
 
 PART II. 
 Exercise 
 
 33. Character of Columbus .... Irving. 136 
 
 34. The Victim .... Philadelphia Casket. 138 
 
 35. Conflagration at Rome of an Amphitheatre . Croly. 138 
 
 36. The African Chief ..... Bryant. 14i 
 
 37. Riches of a poor Barber . . . Edinburgh, Paper. 142 
 
 38. Burning of the Fame N. Y.Atlas. 144 
 
 39. Hour of Prayer .... Mrs. Hcmans. 147 
 
 40. My Mother's Grave ..... Anonym. 148 
 
 41. A Tale of Waterloo .... Anonym. 15t 
 
 42. The righteous never forsaken . . . N. Y. Spectator. 152 
 
 43. To Printers ..... Fisher Ames. 154 
 
 44. Washington ..... Pierpont. 156 
 
 45. Miserable case of a Weaver . . Bell's Messenger. 157 
 
 46. Tomb of Washington ...... 159 
 
 47. Destruction of the Temple at Jerusalem by fire . MUlman. 162 
 
 48. The Charnel Ship . . . Charleston Courier. 165 
 
 49. Life a Spanish Poem ' . . . Edinburgh Review. 167 
 
 50. Death and the Drunkard . . . . .168 
 
 51. The Plague in London .... Rothelan. 17t 
 
 52. The Battle of Borodino . . . . .172 
 
 53. Shipwreck . . . Frcdericksburg Arena. 173 
 
 54. The Bucket a Cold Water Song . . Wood-worth. 175 
 
 55. Anecdote of Judge Marshall . Winchester Republican. 176 
 
 56. The First and Last Ticket . Manuscript of a Criminal. 178 
 
 57. Death at the Toilet . From the Diary of a Physician. 184 
 
 58. Sabbath Schools .... Frelinghuysen. 186 
 
 59. The folly and wickedness of War . . . Knox. 188 
 
 60. The Warrior .... ff.if ringer of Peace. 190 
 
 61. Death of Ashmun . . . Mrs. Sigourney. 191 
 
 62. Love of Applause ..... Hawes. 192 
 
 63. Christian Integrity .... Hawes. 193 
 
 64. Watch . . . , . J. Mason Good. 194 
 
 65. New social order in America . . . Douglas, 19G 
 
 66. Voluntary association .... Douglas. 197 
 
 67. Bible Societies ..... Douglas. 198 
 
 68. Christ's entry into Jerusalem . . . Cunningham. 199 
 
 69. Evening Hymn . . . Monthly Visitor. 200 
 
 70. Universal Peace . . . Chalmers, 201 
 
 71. The Elder's Death Bed . . Prof. Wilson. 202 
 
 72. Benevolence of God .... Chalmers. 207 
 
 73. Death of Princess Charlotte . . Robert Hall. 208 
 
 74. Remarkable preservation from death at Sea . Prof. Wilson. 210 
 
 75. The Bible the best Classic .... Grimke. 214 
 
 76. Fathers of New England . . . Spragiie. 215 
 
 77. Duty of Literary men to their Country . . Grimke. 218 
 
 78. Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson . . . Wirt. 219 
 
 79. The Greek Revolution . Webster. 221
 
 XI! 
 
 80. Triumph of the Gospel 
 
 81. Duties and Prospects of New England . 
 89. The Sabbath School Teacher 
 
 83. Motives of the Gospel . 
 
 84. Character "i RHianl Reynolds 
 86. Address of the Bible Society 1816. 
 
 86. Roman Si.Mi. r ; Last days of llcrculancum 
 
 87. The Orphan Boy 
 
 88. Chrwtiuu Consolation 
 
 89. Cruelty to Animals 
 
 '.XI CliriMi niity ..... 
 
 91. Character of Mrs. Graham 
 
 93. Living to God 
 
 93. Plea for Africa . 
 
 y I. Abolition of the Slave Trade 
 
 95. Eliza 
 
 96. Character of Mr. Brougham 
 
 97. Character of Mr. WUberforce 
 
 98. Eulorium on Mr. Fox 
 
 99. Death of Shfrid.m 
 
 100. The last family of Eastern Greenland 
 1LM. Tli, < 'ny aii.l thf Country 
 ^uinmary Punishment 
 
 t ..I his Mother's Picture . 
 I'M. I [tract lYoni The Grave" . 
 Defence of Johnson 
 
 ; of Warsaw .... 
 
 107. Lord < tiatham .... 
 
 108. Mr. Fox, ami Mr Pitt 
 
 109. i : .t h. ii n . 
 no. i :!(! . 
 
 111. Provhlrnliitl Distinction* 
 11- l.liMjucnce of Bossuet 
 
 of P.nurilnloae 
 114. Eloquence of Brulaine 
 1 !.">. I.! iqui .: i't' Wtuti fit-lil . 
 
 - I.-iiii' nt.ition. 
 117. . 
 
 -j.mt of the American Revolution . 
 
 :a . 
 190. Patriotism of 1775 . 
 
 Pendulum 
 t..ry Hymn . 
 nc from Pizarro 
 
 . 
 196. The Dead Sea . 
 
 n 
 
 ,.*haphat 
 
 , - Hnltle . 
 
 199. Niagara 
 130. On a very old Wedding Ring 
 
 ' hristmas Hymn 
 133. Thou art gone to the Grave 
 Arrrvntx 
 
 I',r<. 
 
 James. 237 
 DttigU. -^ 
 Tkorpe. 930 
 
 AlMmtone. 939 
 
 Mm. Oj,ie. iJ35 
 
 236 
 
 Cmrpcr. '237 
 Maun. 238 
 Mason. 240 
 Griffin, 241 
 
 Christian it 
 . 
 . Strrirf'. 
 
 ^ ! ."! 
 M l> ' . .. 'JVi 
 
 Oeot 
 
 Montpomr 
 
 Can- 
 
 . Campi* 
 
 Butler. 263 
 
 / 
 
 Per 
 
 Percy. 269 
 
 Pol 
 . 
 
 Butler. V73 
 . Bui;. 
 
 Gill 
 . 
 
 J. 
 
 i 
 
 Pk>Uipt. 
 
 P. Henry. 
 
 Jane Taylor. 
 
 Dtrzkan, 
 
 . 
 
 Ckattavbnnnil. 
 
 Gforge W. Doom L I.I' 
 
 984 
 286 
 989 
 
 293 
 
 301 
 309 
 304 
 
 ::d7 
 
 307 
 
 308 
 MD
 
 THE 
 
 RHETIRICAL READER, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 READING. ITS .CONNECTION WITH GOOD EDUCATION. 
 
 THE art of reading well is indispensable to one who ex- 
 pects to be a public speaker ; because the principles on which 
 it depends are the same as those which belong to rhetorical 
 delivery in general, and because nearly all bad speakers 
 were prepared to be so, by early mismanagement of the 
 voice in reading. 
 
 But the subject is one of common interest to all, who 
 aim at a good education. Every intelligent father, who 
 would have his son or daughter qualified to hold a respect- 
 able rank in well-bred society, will regard it as among the 
 very first of polite accomplishments, that .they should be 
 able to read well. But beyond this, the talent may be ap- 
 plied to many important purposes of business, of rational 
 entertainment, and of religious duty. Of the multitudes 
 who are not called to speak in public, including the whole 
 of one sex, and all but comparatively a few of the other, 
 there is no one to whom the ability to read in a graceful" and 
 impressive manner, may not be of great value. In this 
 country, then, where the advantages of education are open 
 to all, and where it is a primary object with parents of all 
 classes, to have their children well instructed, it would seem 
 reasonable to presume that nearly all our youth, of botli 
 sexes, must be good readers. Yet the number who can
 
 1 1 READING. 
 
 properly be so called, is comparatively small. No defect of 
 vocal organs, nor of intelligence and sensibility, which may 
 be supposed to exist among the pupils of our schools, is suf- 
 ficient to account for the wretched habits of reading, which 
 ire so prevalent. The fact must be ascribed to causes 
 more unquestionable and radical in their operation; and 
 these causes, in my opinion, are to be found chiefly, in the 
 inadequate views of the subject, entertained by those to 
 whom the interests of early education are committed. 
 
 Notwithstanding the manifest advances in public sen- 
 timent respecting this matter, which we have witnessed 
 within a few years, there are still many Teachers, and pub- 
 lishers of reading lessons, who maintain that no precepts as 
 to management of voice can be useful to the young ; but 
 that every thing of this sort tends to embarrass rather than 
 aid the attainment of a good elocution. But if it is enough 
 to put a book into the hands of a pupil, and require him to 
 read, without giving him any instructions how to read, then 
 I ask, among the past generations, who have been treated 
 just in this manner, why have not all, or nearly all, become 
 good readers ? Teachers have been sufficiently sparing of 
 rules ; and if a boy was only careful to speak his words 
 distinctly and fluently, and " mind the stops," nothing more 
 was required. Elementary books too have been, till of late, 
 nearly silent as to precepts for regulating the manner in 
 reading. Some of these did formerly give the three follow- 
 ing directions : that the parenthesis require* a quick and 
 weak pronunciation ; that the voice should be raised at the 
 end of a question; and dropped into a cadence, at the end 
 of all other sentence*. The first direction, as' to the paren- 
 thesis, is proper in all cases. The second is proper in all 
 questions answered by yes or no, and improper in all others. 
 Hence the teacher found (!>< instincts of every child to re- 
 bel against the rule, in reading such questions as, " \Vlx> 
 art thou '.'" " Where is boast; and just so, as to
 
 READING. 15 
 
 the last rule, respecting cadence, when a sentence ends with 
 an antithetic, negative clause ; as, " You were paid to fight 
 against Alexander, not to rail at him." 
 
 But because very defective precepts are useless or per- 
 nicious, does it follow that this interesting subject must be 
 left to accident ; so that if any one becomes a good reader, 
 it shall be only because it happens to be so ? Then it will 
 doubtless happen, in time to come, as it has in time past, 
 that the number of good readers will be few, very few. 
 
 In answer to this question, some who discard all theory 
 in elocution, would probably say, we would by no means 
 leave the learner to chance ; we would have him imitate his 
 Teacher, who should be qualified to correct his faults of 
 manner, by exemplifying himself what'is right, and what is 
 wrong, in any given case. Doubtless the Teacher should 
 watch every opportunity to aid his pupil in this manner. 
 But when he reads a sentence well, as an example to his pu- 
 pil, is this done by accident ? Is there no reason why his 
 emphasis is laid on one word rather than another ? why it 
 is strong or weak ? why his pauses are long or short ? 
 why he makes a difference between a parenthetic clause and 
 another ? why his voice turns upward on one word, and 
 downward on another ? why he ends a sentence with a 
 small cadence, or a great one, or with no cadence, as cases 
 vary ? Is all this mere chance ? If so, the pupil may as 
 well be left to chance without, as with a Teacher. If not ; 
 if the Teacher has a reason why he reads so, and not 
 otherwise, cannot lie tell that reason ? This is what com- 
 mon sense requires of him, to teach by precept and exam- 
 ple both. Besides ; what if that Teacher reads badly, 
 himself; just because they who were his patterns, during 
 the formation of his early habits, were bad readers ? Must 
 we go on still at the same rate, and insist on it that the 
 proper remedy for bad reading, is the imitation of bad ex- 
 amples? Then we have no remedy. But common sense,
 
 16 
 
 
 I ay again, would combine practice with theory; so that 
 the Teacher, knowing the conformity between thought and 
 vocal language, may not only express this conformity by his 
 own voice, but explain it to his pupils. 
 
 There are others, who would discard any systematic in- 
 struction on this subject, and yet allow that one important 
 direction ought to be given and incessantly repeated, name- 
 ly, BE WATCKAL. But what is it to be natural ? The pupil 
 will understand, probably, that he is to read in the manner 
 that is most easy to himself, or that gives him the least 
 trouble ; that is, the manner to which he is accustomed. Bad 
 as that manner may be, the direction has no tendency to 
 mend it ; because he supposes that any new manner would 
 be unnatural to hirat But you correct him again, and tell 
 him to be natural. The direction is just, is simple, is easily 
 repeated ; but the infelicity is, that it has been repeated a 
 thousand times, without any practical advantage. You tln-n 
 become more particular, and tell him that to be natural, he 
 must enter into the spirit of what he utters, and read it BO 
 as feeling requires. He tries again, and fails, because he 
 attempts to do what feeling requires, without feeling ; and 
 because he has no conception what it is in his voice that is 
 wrong. You tell him perhaps, lhat he must drop his read- 
 ing tone, and he natural ; but he understands nothing what 
 you mean ; and while his manner becomes more rapid or 
 more loud, for this admonition, he goes on with his i 
 still. He is under the influence of an inv. ihit, 
 
 which he acquired from bein^ early accustomed to reed 
 that which he did not understand, and in which he felt no 
 interest. 
 
 To break up unseemly tones, thus deeply fixed l.y 
 y teacher of reading or speaking finds to be the first and 
 hardest task in his employment. I ; ger 
 
 theie habits hare been chn-Mir.!. the rnon- .stuM>orn they 
 ne ; and measures that might be sufficient to prevent
 
 READING. 17 
 
 them, are by no means sufficient for their cure. To do 
 what is right, with unperverted faculties, is ten times easier 
 than to undo what is wrong. How often do we see men of 
 fine understanding and delicate sensibility, who utter their 
 thoughts in conversation, with all the varied intonations 
 which sentiment requires ; but the moment they come to 
 read or speak in a formal manner, adopt a set of artificial 
 tones utterly repugnant to the spirit of a just elocution. 
 Shall we say that such men do not understand what they 
 speak in public, as well as what they speak in conversation ? 
 Plainly the difference arises from a perverse habit, which 
 prevails over them in one case, and not in the other. 
 Many instances of this sort I have known, where a man 
 has been fully sensible of something very wrong in his 
 tones, but has not been able to see exactly what the fault 
 is ; and after a few indefinite and unsuccessful efforts at 
 amendment, has quietly concluded to go on in the old way. 
 So he must conclude, so long as good sense and emotion 
 are not an equal match for bad habits, without a knowledge 
 of those elementary principles, by which the needed reme- 
 dy is to be applied. These habits he acquired in childhood, 
 just as he learned to speak at all, or to speak Engljsh rather 
 than French, by imitation. His tones both of passion aud 
 of articulation, are derived from an instinctive correspond- 
 ence between the ear and voice. If he had been born 
 deaf, he would have possessed neither. Now in what way 
 shall he break up his bad habits, without so much attention 
 to the analysis of speaking sounds, that he can in some 
 good degree distinguish those which differ, and imitate 
 those which he would wish to adopt or avoid ? How shall 
 he correct a tone, while he cannot understand why it needs 
 correction, because he chooses to remain ignorant of the 
 only language in which the fault can possibly be described ? 
 Let him study and accustom himself to apply a few elemen- 
 tary principles, and then he may at least be able to un-
 
 IB 
 
 dentand what are the defects of his intonations. I do not 
 say that this attainment may be made with equal facility, or 
 to an equal extent, by all men. Bat to an important extent 
 it may be made by every one ; and that with a moderate 
 share of the effort demanded by most other valuable acqui- 
 sitions ; I might say with one half the time and attention 
 that are requisite to attain skill in music. 
 
 Should some still doubt whether any theory of vocal in- 
 flections can be adopted, which shall not be perplexing and 
 on the whole injurious, especially to the young, I answer 
 that the same doubt may as well be extended to every de- 
 partment of practical knowledge. To think of the rules of 
 syntax, every sentence we speak, or of the rules of orthogra- 
 phy and style, every time we take up our pen to write, would 
 indeed be perplexing. The remedy prescribed by common 
 sense in all such cases, is, not to discard correct theories, but 
 to make them so familiar as to govern our practice sponta- 
 neously, and without reflection. 
 
 The benefit of analysis and precept is, to aid the teacher 
 in making the pupil conscious of his own faults, as a pre- 
 requisite to thfir correction. The object is to unfetter the 
 soul, and set it free to act. In doing this a notation for the 
 eye, designed to regulate the voice in a few obvious partic- 
 ulars, may be of much advantage : otherwise why shall we 
 not dismiss punctuation too from books, and depend wholly 
 on the teacher for pauses, as well as tones ? 
 
 The reasonable prejudice which some intelligent 
 have felt against any system of notation, arises from tin- 
 preposterous extent to which it has been carried, by n f < w 
 popular teachers, and especially by their humble imitators. 
 A judicious medium is what we want. Five characters 
 in music, nnd six vowels in writing, nt-r into an infinituil- 
 of combinations in melody and language. So the element- 
 ary m . > of voice in speaking, are few and easily 
 understood ; and to mark them, so far as distinction is use-
 
 19 
 
 ful, does not require a tenth part of the rules, which some 
 have thought necessary. 
 
 I have made these last remarks, because, while I think 
 it a mere prejudice, and a very mischievous one, to maintain 
 that there are no elementary rules of good reading, there 
 is another extreme, which would carry theoretic directions 
 beyond all bounds of common sense and practical utility. 
 I refer to the theory which maintains that, while musical 
 notes are uttered without any slide, the sounds of articulate 
 language are always spoken with a perceptible slide of the 
 voice, either upward or downward. This, in my opinion, 
 is carrying a useful, general theory, to an improper extreme. 
 In the notes of a tune as given from a stringed instrument, 
 or from the human voice, there certainly is no inflection. 
 But no man of accurate ear will say that there is any neces- 
 sary distinction between the notes sol, fa, as uttered in mu- 
 sic, and the same sounds in speech, where they occur in 
 examples like the following : 
 
 My soul, how lovely is the place, 
 .Pother of all, in every age, in every clime ador'd. 
 Though it is possible to speak the open vowels, o and a, in 
 the Italic syllables, with inflections, it is not requisite, nor 
 natural ; and if any think it to be so, I must suppose that 
 they have not been accustomed to distinguish between a 
 slide of the voice, and that transition of note to higher or 
 lower, in which consecutive syllables are uttered. If how- 
 ever, the position that every syllable has a slide, is held as 
 an occult theory, it is harmless, and needs not a moment's 
 discussion; but if practical importance is attached ^ to it, so 
 that the learner must try to distinguish what slide he must 
 give to each syllable, in the simplest language, the theory 
 becomes positively injurious in influence. It frustrates all 
 just discrimination, by aiming at that which is needless and 
 endless in minuteness. It operates much as it would to re- 
 quire, by the Italic character, or other notation, every word 
 in a sentence to be spoken with emphatic force.
 
 -'<) RKAHl\'. 
 
 Now the most general principle of a good elocution that 
 can be laid down is the voice mutt conform to sentimnU. 
 Where the thought is simple, and without emotion, as, 
 i. -in m;iv put off the law of God ;" to insist on any 
 iike marked strew or inflection i.- m useless. 
 
 But call the pupil to read : Virtue, not rolling suns, the 
 mind matures :" or " Arm, warriors ! Ann for f 
 and it is quite another case. Here stress and inflection are 
 Diadod on the emphatic words. Why ? Because sense 
 and emotion require it. Let these few words be. right, and 
 no matter for the rest ; they will be right, or nearly so, of 
 course. But if you require the pupil to give stress and in- 
 flection to all the words, you teach him to sacrifice the senee, 
 and aim at conformity to some arbitrary standard of excel- 
 lence, which he may imagine that he understands, but which 
 will ruin all significant variety in his intonations. 
 
 There is one great law of mind, and of language, which 
 Teachers of youth should well understand, namely, t/uit 
 emotion speaks with its own appropriate mode* of expression. 
 Where a sentence contains a simple thought, without emo- 
 tion of any sort, it requires nothing but proper words, in 
 grammatical order. No principle of rhetoric is concerned 
 in forming such a sentence, and none in uttering it, except 
 distinctness. But the moment that passion speaks, gram- 
 mar is subordinate, and rhetoric becomes ascendant. A 
 groan, a shriek of distress, thrills the heart, without the 
 help of syntax ; and the same principle exists as to all the 
 lower degrees of passion, till we come down again to the 
 mere province of words, and grammar. Now passion and 
 discriminating sentiment demand an appropriate expression 
 of voice, not in the mere utterance of words, but in the 
 manner of uttering them. On this principle, rest all the 
 law* of inflection, emphasis, A-c . which can be given to any 
 valuable purpose. These laws, as I have said, are few ; and 
 an be stated and reduced to practice, with as much ease as 
 any other laws of language.
 
 READING. 21 
 
 I shall finish these general remarks, by laying down a 
 plain distinction between the two sorts of reading, the gram- 
 matical, and the rhetorical. 
 
 Grammatical reading, as I have just intimated, respects 
 merely the sense of what is read. When performed audibly, 
 for the benefit of others, it is still only the same sort of 
 process which one performs silently, for his- own benefit, 
 when he casts his eye along the page, to ascertain the 
 meaning of its author. The chief purpose of the correct 
 reader is to be intelligible ; and this requires an accurate 
 perception of grammatical relation in the structure of sen- 
 tences ; a due regard to accent and pauses, to strength of 
 voice, and clearness of utterance. This manner is gener- 
 ally adopted in reading plain, unimpassioned style. The 
 character and purpose of a composition may be such that it 
 would be as preposterous to read it with tones of emotion, 
 as it would to announce a proposition in grammar or geom- 
 etry, in the language of metaphor. But though merely the 
 correct manner, suits many purposes of reading, it is dry and 
 inanimate, and is the lowest department in the province of 
 delivery. Still the great majority, not to say of respectable 
 men, but of bookish men, go nothing beyond this in their at- 
 tainments or attempts. 
 
 Rhetorical reading has a higher object, and calls into 
 action higher powers. It is not applicable to a composi- 
 tion destitute of emotion, for it supposes feeling. It does 
 not barely express the thoughts of an author, but expresses 
 them with the force, variety, and beauty, which feeling 
 demands. 
 
 To this latter sort of reading would I bend all my efforts 
 in forming the habits of the young. To this, almost ex- 
 clusively, would I apply precepts respecting management 
 of the voice. And with a view to prevent the formation of 
 bad habits, or to cure them before they become established, 
 I would take off children, just so soon as they can read with
 
 ARTICULATION. 22 
 
 tolerable readiness, from lessons which belong to the gram- 
 matical class, and put thi-in upon those which contain some 
 rhetorical principles. These lessons should, at first, be 
 chiefly narrative ; or narrative and colloquial combined ; 
 by which I mean dialogue proper, or rhetorical dialogue; 
 in which the same voice must represent two speakers, or 
 more. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ARTICULATION. 
 
 IT has been well said, that a good articulation is to the 
 ear, what a fair handwriting, or a fair type is to the eye. 
 Who has not felt the perplexity of supplying a word, torn 
 away by the seal of a letter; or a dozen syllables of a 
 book, in as many lines, cut off by the carelessness of a 
 binder ? The same inconvenience is felt from a similar 
 omission in spoken language ; with this additional disadvan- 
 tage, that we are not at liberty to stop, and spell out the 
 meaning by construction. 
 
 A man of indistinct utterance reads this sentence: 
 " The magistrates ought to prove a declaration so publicly 
 made." When I perceive that his habit is to strike only the 
 accented syllable clearly, sliding over others. I do not know 
 whether it is meant, that they ought to prove the declaration, 
 or to approve it, or rrprove it, for in either case he would 
 speak only the syllable proi<e. Nor do I know, whether 
 the magistrates ought to do it, or the magistrates touyht to 
 doit. 
 
 Dtfective articulation arises from bad organs, or bad hlMil, 
 or sounds of difficult utterance.
 
 ARTICULATION. 23 
 
 Every one knows how the loss of a tooth, or a contusion 
 on the lip, affects the formation of oral sounds. When there 
 is an essential fault in the structure of the mouth ; when the 
 tongue is disproportionate in length or width, or sluggish in 
 its movements ; or the palate is too high, or too low ; or the 
 teeth badly set or decayed, art may diminish, but cannot fully 
 remove the difficulty. In nine cases out of ten, however, 
 imperfect articulation comes not so much from bad organs, as 
 from the abuse of good ones. 
 
 The animal and intellectual temperament doubtless has 
 some connection with this subject. A sluggish action of the 
 mind, imparts a correspondent character to the action of the 
 vocal organs, and makes speech only a succession of indolent, 
 half-formed sounds, more resembling the muttering of a 
 dream, than the clear articulation, which we ought to expect 
 in one who knows what he is saying. Excess of vivacity, on 
 the other hand, or excess of sensibility, often produce a 
 hasty, confused utterance. Delicacy speaks in a timid, feeble 
 voice ; .and the fault of indistinctness is often aggravated in 
 a bashful child, by the indiscreet chidings of his teacher, de- 
 signed to push him into greater speed in spelling out his 
 early lessons ; while he has little familiarity with the form and 
 sound, and less with the meaning of words. 
 
 The* way is now prepared to notice some of those dif- 
 ficulties in articulation, which arise from the sounds to be 
 spoken. 
 
 The first and chief difficulty lies in the fact that articu- 
 lation consists essentially in the consonant sounds, and that 
 many of these are difficult of utterance. My limits do not 
 allow me to illustrate this by a minute analysis of the 
 elements of speech. 
 
 It is evident to the slightest observation that the open vowels are 
 uttered with ease and strength. On these, public criers swell 
 their notes to so great a compass. On these too, the loudest notes 
 of music are formed. Hence the great skill which is requisite to
 
 24 ARTtrri.ATinv. 
 
 distinct articulation in mini.- ; for the stream of voice, which flc * 
 so easily on the vowels and li ii ! !>y the t/' 
 
 cnrrenee of a hamh . ound, bat the 
 
 breath, is entinK u mute. Jn -;. i.-, any 
 
 syllable whii-h (lulu with /',//, d, or I, all the sound IIP 
 
 preceding towel ; for when the organs come to the proper 
 position for speaking the mute, the voice instantly ceases. 'I 
 plains what sometimes has been thought a mystery, that stammering 
 persons find little ilitfirulty in rending poetry, and none in singing;* 
 whereas they stop at once in speaking, when they come to certain con- 
 sonants. Any one who would* practically understand this subject, 
 should recollect that the distinction between human speech, and the in- 
 articulate sounds of brutes, lies not in the vowels, but in the consonants. ,- 
 and that in a defective utterance of these, ba'd articulation primarily 
 consists. 
 
 A second difficulty arises from the immediate twxtuum 
 of the tame or similar sounds : as in the recurrence of the 
 aspirates; 
 
 Up the Aigh Afll Ae Aeaves a Auge round stone : 
 or the collision of open vowels ; 
 
 Tbo' oft the far th open vowels tire. 
 
 But a greater difficulty still is occasioned by the im- 
 mediate recurrence of the same consonant sound, without the 
 intervention of a vowel or a pause. . The following are ex- 
 amples : " For Chris/'* ake." " The hosfc arill /ood." " The 
 battle lasts still" The illustration will be more intelli- 
 gible from examples in which bad articulation affects the 
 
 Wastes and deserts ; Waste sand deserts. 
 To obtain either ; To obtain neither. 
 Hb cry moved me ; His crime moved me. 
 He could pay nobody ; He could pain nobody. 
 
 Two successive sounds are to be formed here, with the 
 organs in the same position ; so that, without a pause be- 
 tween, only one of the single sounds is spoken ; and the dif- 
 ficulty is much increased when sense or grammatical relation 
 forbids such a pause. 
 
 This is partly owing also tn a
 
 ARTICULATION. 25 
 
 A third difficulty arises from the influence of accent. The 
 importance which this stress attaches to syllables on which it 
 falls, requires them to be spoken in a more full and deliberate 
 manner than others. Hence, if the recurrence of this stress 
 is too close, it occasions heaviness in utterance ; if too re- 
 mote, indistinctness. In the example, 
 
 And ten low words oft creep in one dull line, 
 
 the poet compels us, in spite 'of metrical harmony, to lay an 
 accent on each syllable. 
 
 But the remoteness of accent in other cases involves a 
 greater difficulty still ; because the intervening syllables 
 are liable to be spoken Avith a rapidity inconsistent with 
 distinctness, especially if they abound with jarring conso- 
 nants. Combinations of this kind, we have in the words 
 communicatively, authoritatively, terrestrial, reasonableness, 
 disinterestedness. And the case is worse still where we pre- 
 posterously throw back the accent so as to be followed by 
 four or five syllables, as Walker directs in these words, 
 receptacle, peremptorily, acceptableness. While these com- 
 binations almost defy the best organs of speech, no one finds 
 any difficulty in uttering words combined with a due propor- 
 tion of liquids, and a happy arrangement of vowels and ac- 
 cents. 
 
 Not so when swift Camilla scours the plain, 
 
 Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main. 
 
 A fourth difficulty arises from a tendency of the organs 
 to slide over unaccented vowels. There is a large class of 
 words beginning with pre, and pro, in which this ^seldom 
 fails to appear. In prevent, prevail, predict, a bad articu- 
 lation sinks e of the first syllable so as to make pr-vent, 
 pr-vail, pr-dict. The case is the same with o in proceed, 
 profane, promote ; spoken pr-ceed, &c. So is e confounded 
 with short u in event, omit, &c., spoken uvvcnt> ummit. 
 
 In the same manner u is transformed into e, as in jiopulows, 
 
 2
 
 \KT1 I I.ATI'i.S. 
 
 regular, singular, educate, <kc., spoken pop-e-lous, reg-e-lar, 
 ed-e-cate. A smart percussion of the tongue, with a little rest 
 on the consonant before u, so as to make it quite distinct, 
 would remove the difficulty. 
 
 The same sort of defect, it may be added, often appears in 
 the indistinct utterance of consonants ending syllables ; thus 
 in aMempt, a/-tention, </-fect, q/"-fence, the consonant of the 
 first syllable is suppressed. 
 
 To the foregoing remarks, it may be proper to add three caution*. 
 
 The first is, in aiming to acquire a distinct articulation, take care not 
 to form one that it mrasiired and mtrknnical. The child, in passing 
 from hu spelling manner, u ambitious to become a swift r< .id. -r, and 
 thus lulls into a confusion of organs, that is to be cured only by retracing 
 the steps which produced it. The remedy, however, is no better than tli- 
 fault, if it runs into a xtm-ning, pc-dan-tic fur-mal-i-ty, giving undue 
 stress to particles and unaccented syllables ; thus, " He \*the man of all 
 IM/e world whom I fjoice to meet." 
 
 In some parts of our country, there is a prevalent habit of sinking the 
 sound of e or i, in words where English usage preserves it, as in rebel, 
 chapel, Latin, spoken rcb'l, ctiap'l, Lal'n. In other cases, where i 
 lisli usage suppresses the vowel, the same persons speak it with marked 
 distinctness, or turn it into i/ ; as rr'n, op'n, hear'n, pronounced -*, 
 op-un. kear-nn. 
 
 It should be remarked that vowels not under Uie accent, are often ut- 
 tered slightly by good speakers, where affectation, by trying to give them 
 prominence, runs into a \< ry faulty pronunciation. Thus, in attempting 
 to distinguish e from / in such words as inched, gospel, many pronouno; 
 them wicki/d. gospi*4, wickudnuss, &c. Unaccented vowels are often 
 necessarily indistinct, e in wicked, having the same sound as i in i/. So 
 all the vowels, a, e, i, n, u, :/. must often be spoken so as to have the 
 sound of short u ; as in scholar, master, satirist, doctor, martyr, pro- 
 nounced scholwr, mart r/ r, Ac. 
 
 The second caution is, lei ike dote of leniences be spoken dearly ; with 
 sufficient strength, and on the proper pitch, to bring out the meaning 
 completely. No part of a sentence is so important as the close, both in 
 respect to sense and harmony. 
 
 The third caution is, asrertain your oirn Hcfccls of art, relation, by Uu 
 mulofjanefritnd, and then devote a short time tiatedly and daily, If car- 
 rectUem. Let the reader make a list of such words and combinations as 
 he has found most difficult to his organs, and repeat them as n set rx 
 erase. If be has been accustomed to say or 
 
 pr-matt, pr-tent, let him Irnrn to speak the unaccented vowels prop- 
 erly.* 
 
 hammering and imutdimenls, whkh fall under the head of ar- 
 ticulation, the reader may find my views in the Analysis of Rhetorical 
 Defivery.
 
 INFLECTIONS. 27 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 INFLECTIONS. 
 
 Description of Inflections. 
 
 THE absolute modifications of the voice in speaking are 
 four; namely, monotone, rising inflection, falling inflection, 
 and circumflex. The first may be marked to the eye by a 
 horizontal line, thus, (-) the second thus, ( ' ) the third thus, 
 ( v ) the fourth thus, ("). 
 
 The monotone is a sameness of sound on successive syl- 
 lables, which resembles that produced by repeated strokes of 
 a bell. Unseemly as this is, where varied inflections are re- 
 quired, it more or less belongs to grave delivery, especially 
 in elevated description, or where emotions of sublimity or 
 reverence are expressed ; as, 
 
 He rode upon a cherub and did fly. I saw a great white throne, and 
 him that sat on it. 
 
 The rising inflection turns the voice upward, or ends higher 
 than it begins. It is heard invariably in the direct ques- 
 tion ; as, Will you go to-day ? 
 
 The falling inflection turns the voice downwards, or ends 
 lower than it begins. It is heard in the answer to a ques- 
 tion ; as, No ; I shall go to-morrow. 
 
 As the whole doctrine of inflections depends on these two simple 
 slides of the voice, one more explanation seems necessary, as to the 
 degree in which each is applied, under different circumstances. In most 
 cases where the rising slide is used, it is only a gentle turn of the voice 
 upward, one or two notes. In cases of emotion, as in the spirited, direct 
 question, the slide may pass through five or eight notes. The former 
 may be called the common rising inflection, the latter the intensive. Just 
 the same distinction exists in the falling inflection. In the question, ut- 
 tered with surprise, " Are you, going to-day?" the slide is intensive. 
 But in the following case, it is common, "fame is Inii breath, as ric/ies are 
 transitory, and life itself is uncertain, so we should seek a better portion." 
 To carry the rising slide in the latter case, as far as in the former, is a 
 great fault, though not an uncommon one.
 
 INM.lrl K'.V- 
 
 The circumflex is a union of the two inflections, sometimes 
 on one syllable, and ,'ins with 
 
 the falling, and ends with the rising slide; as, / may go to- 
 mdrrotp, t/iouyh 1 run/tot <j<> to-day. " The\ tell its to be 
 moderate ; but tiny, /////, are to revel in profusion." On the 
 words marked in these examples, there is a significant twist- 
 ing of the voice downwards, and then upwards, without 
 which the sense is not expressed. 
 
 Besides these absolute modifications of voice, there are others which 
 may be called relative, and which may be classed under the four 
 lii.tds of pitch, quantity, rate, and quality. .These may be presented 
 thus: 
 
 As those relative modifications of voice assume almost an endless 
 variety, according to sentiment and emotion in a speaker, they belong to 
 the chapter on Modulation. 
 
 t f Inflection*. 
 
 In order to render the new classification which I have 
 given intelligible, I have chosen examples chiefly from col- 
 loquial language ; because the tones of conversation ought to 
 be the basis of deliver}', and (because these only are at once 
 recognized by the ear. Being conformed to nature, they arc 
 instinctively right; so that sr.-m-ely a man in a million uses 
 artificial tones in conversation. And this one fact. I remark 
 in passing, furnishes a standing canon to the learner in elocu- 
 tion. In contending with any bad habit let him 
 
 break up the sentence on which the dilVx -ulty occurs, and 
 throw it, if possible, into the colloquial form. Let l.im 
 serve in himself and others, the t< r in 
 
 speaking, familiarly and on comni 
 
 As the difficulty of the learner at firvt. in t<> distinguish tli.- two chief 
 inflection*, and as the Ixnrt n -:n_' thnn 
 
 the 
 
 in th- a - to 
 
 ease* in which they are used sep.' in 
 
 rontinued series of rules, fr
 
 INFLECTIONS. 29 
 
 Both Inflections together. 
 
 RULE I. When the disjunctive or connects words or clauses, 
 it has the rising inflection before, and the falling after it. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 Shall I come to you with a rod or in love 1 
 
 The baptism of John, was it from heaven or of men 1 
 
 Will you go or stay 1 
 
 Will you ride or walk 1 
 
 Will you go to-day or to-morrow 1 
 
 Did he travel for health or for pleasure ? 
 
 Did he resemble his father or his mother 1 
 
 Is this book yours or mine 1 
 
 RULE II. The direct question, or that which admits the 
 answer of yes or no, has the rising inflection, and the answer 
 has the falling. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 Are they Hebrews 1 So am i. 
 
 Are they Israelites 1 So am f . 
 
 Are they the seed of Abraham 1 So am I. 
 
 Are they ministers of Christ 1 I am more. [Paul.] 
 
 Did you not speak to it 1 My lord, I did. 
 
 Hold you the watch to-night 1 ' We do, my lord. 
 
 Arm'd, say you ? Armed, my lord. 
 
 From top to toe 1 My lord, from head to foot. 
 
 Then saw you not his face 7 O yes, my lord. 
 
 What, looked he frowningly 1 A countenance more in sorrow than 
 
 in anger. 
 
 Pale 1 Nay, very pale. Shak. Hamlet. 
 
 Note 1. If I wish to know whether my friend will go on a journey 
 within two days, I say perhaps, " Will you go to-day, or to-morrow 1" 
 He may answer, " yes," because my rising inflection on both words 
 implies that I used the or between them conjunctively. But if I had 
 used it disjunctively, it must have had the rising slide before it, and the 
 falling after ; and then the question is, not whether he will go within two 
 days, but on which of the two ; thus, " Will you go to-day or to-mor- 
 row?" The whole question, in this case, cannot admit the answer yes or 
 no, and of course cannot end with the rising slide. 
 
 Note 2. When Exclamation becomes a question, it demands the rising 
 slide ; as, " How, you say, are we to accomplish it 7 How accomplish 
 it ! Certainly not by fearing to attempt it."
 
 30 INFLECTION*. 
 
 ROLE III. When ntyation is opposed to affirmation, the 
 former has the rising, and the latter the falling inflection 
 
 I did not say a bitter soldier, but an Uder. 
 Study not Tor &miatmeni, but for improvemftU. 
 He was esteemed, not for wealtk, but for wisdom. 
 He will not come to-day, but to-mdrrme. 
 He did not act irisflu. but unicisely. 
 He dkl not call me, but yd*. 
 He did not say pride, but pride. 
 
 Note 1. Negation alone, not opposed to affirmation, generally inclines 
 the voice to the rising slide, but not aJicaiif, as some respectable Tearbera 
 have maintained. " Thou shall not kill;" "Thou shall not rteal ;" 
 are negative precepts, in which the falling slide must be used ; and the 
 simple particle no, wilh ihe intensive falling slide, is one of the strung"** 
 monosyllables in the language. 
 
 Note 2. The reader should be apprised here, that the falling slide, being 
 often connected with strong emphasis, and beginning on a high and spir- 
 ited note, is liable to be mistaken, by those little acquainted with the sub- 
 ject, for the rising slide. If one is in doubt which of the two be has em- 
 ployed, on a particular word, let him repeat both together, by forming a 
 question thus, " Did I say gt, or so?" or a question and answ< 
 "Will you gd, orttdy? 1 shall go." \\ill you ride, or valJc? I 
 shall riJt." This will give the contrary slides on the some word. 
 
 But as some may be unable still to distinguish the falling, confound- 
 ing it, as just mentioned, wilh the risin_' mf]..-ti,>n, or, on the other h;in<l, 
 with (he cadence ; 1 observe that the difficulty lies in two things. One 
 is, that the slide is not begun so high, and ihe otln -r, that it is not carried 
 through so many notes, as it ought to be. I explain this by a diagram, 
 thus: 
 
 It n sufficiently exact to say, that in reading this proprr 
 syllable* without slide may be spoken on one key or monotone. 
 i lu key go slides upwards to its highest Mite, and from the 
 
 same high note slay slides downwards to the key ; and x<> does the 
 SUM, in the answer to the question. In the second example, the 
 case is entirely similar. But the difficulty with the inexpert reader 
 is, that he strike* the downward slide, not above the key, but on k,
 
 INFLECTIONS. SI 
 
 and then slides downward, just as in a cadence. The faulty manner 
 may be represented thus : 
 
 .^ji 
 Will yo go to- or to- ,. I shall go to- ^ 
 
 X, V 
 
 The other part of the difficulty, in distinguishing the falling inflection 
 from the opposite, arises from its want of sufficient extent. Sometimes, 
 indeed, the voice is merely dropped to a low note, without any slide at 
 all. The best remedy is, to take a sentence with some emphatic word, on 
 which the intensive falling slide is proper, and plfetract that slide, in a 
 drawling manner, from a high note to a low ont This will make iu 
 distinction from the rising slide very obvious. 
 
 Rising Inflection. 
 
 RULE IV. The pause of suspension, denoting that the 
 sense is unfinished, requires the rising inflection. 
 
 This rule embraces several particulars, more especially ap- 
 plying to sentences of the periodic structure, which consist 
 of several members, but form no complete sense before the 
 close. It is the first principle of articulate language, that in 
 such a case, the voice should be kept suspended, to denote 
 continuation of sense. 
 
 The following are some of the cases to which the rule applies. 
 
 1. Sentences beginning with a conditional particle or clause ; as, 
 
 " If some of the branches be broken off, and thou, being a wild olive 
 tree, wert grafted in among them, and with them partakest of the root 
 and fatness of the olive tree ; boast not against the branches." " A 
 face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to man." 
 
 2. The case absolute ; as, 
 
 " His father dying, and no heir being left except himself, he succeeded 
 to the estate." " The question having been fully discussed, and all ob- 
 jections completely refuted, the decision was unanimous." 
 
 3. The infinitive mood with its adjuncts, used as a nominative 
 case ; as, 
 
 " To smile on those whom we should censure, and to countenance 
 those who are guilty of bad actions, is to be guilty ourselves." " To 
 be pure in heart, to be pious and benevolent, constitutes human hap- 
 pinew."
 
 
 
 4. The rornlirr* r.nse without strong emphasis, when it is a lespecUU 
 mil to at (. nil' in \;.r-s*t's no sense completed, and comes under the 
 inflection of the suspending pause ; as, - 
 
 ; l>n thr-n, OIK! fathers, licark- Is, Romans, coun- 
 
 trymen ! lend me your ears." 
 
 5. The;*/ mionly requires the same inflection at its close, 
 while the rest of it is often to be spoken in the monotone ; as, 
 
 /. ic v not, brethren, (far I apeak to them thai knmo tkelaic.)tkat the 
 bnr kaiJi dominion orer a man as long as he lircth 7" 
 
 An exception may apply to the general principle of this rule, whenever 
 one voice is to represent two persons, thus : 
 
 If a brother or sister be naked, and destitute of daily food, and one of 
 you say unto them, Depart in peace, be ye wanned and filled ; notwith- 
 standing ye give them not those things which are needful to the body ; 
 what doth it profit"? 
 
 1!' r< thn sense is entirely suspended to the close, ami yet the clause 
 introduced as the language of another, requires the fnllin-j slide. 
 
 Anot' Son, resting on still stronger groand, eoeon where an 
 
 antithetic rlausr r qiiin s th. int.*ii-i\'- falling slid.- <>n >ni.- <-\w( word, 
 to denote the true meaning : as in the following example, '-The man 
 who N in th> dailv us.- of ardent spirit, it" he docs not become a drunkard, 
 M in danger of losing his health and character." In this periodic sen- 
 tence. I i-i not form' d till the close; and yet the fnllr 
 
 of the second member, or th> sense is subverted ; 
 
 tor the rising slidi on drunkard would imply that his becoming such, is 
 the onlv way to preserve health and character. 
 
 Hi I.K V. Tender emotion prm-rally inclines the voice t-> 
 
 -iidc. 
 
 : compassion, and delicate affection, soften the soul, 
 and nrp uttorod in words, invariably with corresponding qual- 
 
 ;i it expresses either aft 
 or d<-Ii "!' li^in^ slid** ; as, 
 
 "Jesus saith ui. 1 ry." "Jesus saith unto him, Thomas.' 1 
 
 " Sir, I " art a proj irs, what murt I do to b 
 
 MVC<! 
 
 Tlx in pathetic p<" 
 
 Thus with thr year, 
 Seasons return ; but not to me r< ' 
 
 I us. thi< t. r:n ..- ! my purpose than thnt of oar gram- 
 
 marian*. **mi*'-'-
 
 INFLECTIONS. 33 
 
 Day, or the sweet approach of cv'n or morn, 
 Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
 Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 
 But cloud instead, and ever during dark 
 Surround me 
 
 So in. the beautiful little poem of Cowper, on the receipt 
 of his mother's picture : 
 
 My mother ! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed 1 
 Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
 Wretch even then, life's journey just begun 1 
 I heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day, 
 I saw the hearse, that bore thee slow away, 
 And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew 
 A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu. 
 
 RULE VI. The rising slide is commonly used at the last 
 pause but one in the sentence. The reason is, that the ear 
 expects the voice to fall when the sense is finished ; and there- 
 fore it should rise for the sake of variety and harmony, on 
 the pause that precedes the cadence. Ex. : 
 
 " The minor longs to be at age, then to be a man of business, then 
 to make an estate, then to arrive at honors, then to retire." " Our 
 lives, (says Seneca,) are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in 
 doing nothing to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought to do." 
 
 Falling Inflection. 
 
 So indistinctly does bold and strong passion express itself 
 by this turn of voice, that just so far as the falling slide be- 
 comes intensive, it denotes emphatic force. The VIII. IX. 
 and X. rules will illustrate this remark. 
 
 RULE VII. The indirect question, or that which is not 
 answered by yes or no, has the falling inflection ; and its an- 
 swer has the same. As, 
 
 What, Tubero, did that naked sword of yours mean, in the battle 
 of Pharsalia 1 At whose breast was its point aimed 1 What was the 
 meaning of your arms, your spirit, your eyes, your hands, your ardor 
 of soul? 
 
 2*
 
 3 I 1XFLLCTI9M. 
 
 Wko My tkc people that I dm ? They answering laid, Jok*Uu Baptist t 
 b*t torn* lay Ettas t and oUun $ay that one of UK old prdpketi it riten 
 again. Where is footing Uten ? His excluded. Wkojirst tediuxd tkem 
 to UuUfoul retoU ? TV infernnl terp-nt. 
 
 The want of distinction in elementary books, between that 
 sort of question which turns the voice upward, and that 
 which turns it downward, must have been felt by every 
 teacher, even of children. 
 
 HfLE VIII. The language of authority, of surprise, and 
 of distress, is commonly uttered with the falling inflection. 
 
 1. The imperative mood, as used to express the commands 
 of a superior, denotes that energy of thought which usually 
 requires the falling slide ; as, 
 
 Uzziel ! half the*e draw off, and coast the south, 
 With Ftrictest watch ; these other, wheel the north. 
 Ilhuriel and Zephon ! with winged speed 
 Search th/ough this garden ; leave unsearch'd no nook. 
 Up, comrades ! up ! in Rokeby's halls 
 - be it said our courage falls. 
 
 2. Denunciation and reprehension, on the same principle, 
 commonly require the falling inflection ; as, 
 
 Woe unto you, Pharisees ! Woe unto you, lawyers ! But God said 
 unto him, thou fool ! ihi* night thy soul shall be required of th- 
 Jesus said, Why tempt ye me, ye hypocrites 1 Paul said to Elyroas, O 
 full of all subtlety, and all mischief! Thou child of the Ddvil, thou 
 enemy of all righteousness ! 
 
 Hence ! home, you idle creatures, get you home. 
 
 You blocks, you stones ! ' You worse than wnseless things ! 
 
 This would be tame indeed, should we place the un-m- 
 phatic, rising slide, on these terms of reproach, thus : 
 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things ! 
 
 iiiation, when it does not express tender emotion, 
 nor ask a question, inclines to adopt the falling slide. 
 r expresses itself in this way ; as, 
 
 Angels, and ministers of grace, defend us. 
 Exclamation, denoting surpriss. or rrvcrance. or distress, or a
 
 INFLECTIONS. 85 
 
 combination of these different emotions, generally adopts the falling 
 slide. For this reason, I suppose that Mary, weeping at the sepulchre, 
 when she perceived that the person whom she had mistaken for the 
 gardener, was the risen Saviour himself, exclaimed with the tone of 
 reverence and surprise, Rabboni! And the same inflection probably 
 was used by the leprous men when they cried Jesus, Master! have mercy 
 on us; instead of the colloquial tone, Jesus Master, which is commonly 
 used in reading the passage, and which expresses nothing of the distress 
 and earnestness which prompted this cry. These examples are distin- 
 guished from the vocative case, when it merely calls to attention, or de- 
 notes affection. 
 
 RULE IX. Emphatic succession of particulars requires the 
 falling slide. The reason is, that a distinctive utterance is 
 necessary to fix the attention on each particular ; as, 
 
 Charity suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not ; charity 
 vaunteth not itself; is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly ; 
 secketh not her own ; is not easily prov&ked ; thinketh no evil. Thrice 
 was I beaten with rods ; once was I stoned ; thrice I suffered shipwreck ; 
 a night and a day have I been in the deep. 
 
 In each of these examples, all the pauses except the last 
 but one, (for the sake of harmony,) require the downward 
 slide. 
 
 Note 1. When the principle of emphatic series interferes with that of 
 the suspending slide, one or the othej prevails, according to the degree 
 of emphasis ; as, 
 
 Though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and 
 all ktiow'ledge ; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove moun- 
 tains, and have not charity, I am nothing. 
 
 The pains of getting, the fear of losing, and the inability of enjoying 
 his wealth, have made the miser a mark of satire, in all ages.* 
 
 Note 2. Emphatic succession of particulars grows intensive as it goes 
 on ; that is, on each succeeding emphatic word, the slide has more stress, 
 and a higher note, than on the preceding ; thus, 
 
 I tell you, though \? though all the \y> though an angel 
 
 ^N 
 
 from ^sjs should declare the truth of it, I could not believe it. 
 
 * All rules of inflection as to a series of single wards, when unem- 
 phatic, are, in my opinion, worse than useless. No rule of harmonic 
 inflection, that is indepndent of sentiment, can be established with-
 
 36 IM I.E.-. 
 
 The rising Mr, on the contrary, ns it oocara in an emphatic series of 
 direct question*, rises higher on each particular, at it proceeds. 
 
 X. Emphatic repetition requires the falling slide. 
 Whatever inflection is given to a word, in the first instance, 
 when that word is repeated with stress, it demands the fall- 
 ing slide. Thus in Julius Caesar, Cassius says: 
 
 You wrong me every way, yon wrung me, Brutus. 
 
 The worrf wrong is slightly emphatic, with the falling slide, 
 in the first clause ; but in the second, it requires a double or 
 triple force of voice, with the same slide on the higher note, 
 to express the meaning strongly. But the principle of this 
 rule is more apparent still, when the repeated word changes 
 its inflection. Thus I ask one at a distance, Are you going 
 to Boston ? If he tells me that he did not hear my question, 
 I repeat it with the other slide, Are you going to Boston ?* 
 
 KII.K XI. The final pause requires the falling slide. 
 
 That dropping of the voice which denotes the sense to be 
 finUlnd, is so commonly expected by the car, that the 
 worst readers make a cadence of some sort, at the close of 
 a sentence. In respect to this, some general faults may 
 be guarded against, though it is not possible to tell in ab- 
 solute terms what a good cadence is, because, in diftVn-nt 
 circumstances, it is modified by different principles of elo- 
 cution. The most common fault in the cadence of bad 
 speakers, c> dropping the voice too uniformly to the 
 
 out too much rink of nn artificial hnbit, unless it be this onr, that the 
 voice should rioe at the last .pause before the cadence ; and even thin may 
 be superseded by emphasis. 
 
 In rollnqtii.il language. the point I m illustrating i quite familiar to 
 every ear. The ! .i< In r r.xlN n pupil by name in tin- ri-in^ inflection, 
 and not tiring heard, rrpenU the rail in the falling. The an 
 such a c.ill.if it i- a ni'-ri ri-|H>n<f - i doubt, it 
 
 " A quration ' iriderstood is repeated with n louder 
 
 voice n. ;: of slide : " Is this your book? h lAix your boot?" 
 
 'ulJrsn with their first slcmrnts of speech, make this distinction 
 psrfcrfly.
 
 CIRCUMFLEX. 37 
 
 same note. The next consists in dropping it too much. 
 The next, in dropping it too far from the end of the sen- 
 tence, or beginning the cadence too soon ; and another still 
 consists in that feeble and indistinct manner of closing sen- 
 tences, which is common to men unskilled in managing the 
 voice. 
 
 We should take care also to mark the difference between that down- 
 ward turn of the voice which occurs at the falling slide in the middle of 
 a sentence, and that which occurs at the close. The latter is made on a 
 lower note, and if emphasis is absent, with less spirit than the former ; 
 as " This heavenly benefactor claims, not the homage of our lips, but of 
 our hearts ; and who can doubt that he is entitled to the homage of our 
 hearts." Here the word hearts has the same slide in the middle of the 
 sentence as at the close. Though it has a much lower note in the latter 
 case than in the former. 
 
 It must be observed, too, that the final pause does not always require 
 a cadence. When the strong emphasis with the falling slide comes near 
 the end of a sentence, it turns the voice upward at the close ; as, " If we 
 have no regard to our own character, we ought to have some regard to 
 the character of others." " You were paid to fight against Alexander, 
 not to rail at him." This is a departure from a general rule of elocu- 
 tion; but it is only one case among many, in which emphasis asserts ils 
 supremacy over any other principle, that interferes with its claims. In- 
 deed, any one, who has given but little attention to this point, would be 
 surprised to observe accurately, how often sentenoes are closed, in con- 
 versation, without any proper cadence ; the voice being carried to a high 
 note, on the last word, sometimes with the falling, and sometimes with 
 the rising slide. . 
 
 Circumflex. 
 
 RULE XII. The circumflex occurs chiefly where the lan- 
 guage is either hypothetical or ironical. 
 
 The most common use of it is to express, indefinitely 
 or conditionally, some idea that is contrasted with another 
 idea expressed or understood, to which the falling slide be- 
 longs ; thus : Hume said he would go twenty miles, (o hear 
 Whitefield preach. The contrast suggested by the circum- 
 flex here is, though he would take no pains to hear a common 
 preacher. 
 
 You ask a physician concerning your friend who is dangerously sick, 
 and receive this reply, He is belter. The circumflex denotes only .1 
 partial doubtful amendment, and implies But he. it still, dangerously sick. 
 The same turn of the voice occurs in the following example, on the word 
 importunity.
 
 88 AOCBNT. 
 
 " Though he will not rue and give him, because he is his friend yet 
 beeauM of his importunity he will rue and give him a* many as he 
 needeth. 
 
 Thui circumflex when indistinct, coincides nearly with the rising slide ; 
 when distinct, it denotes qualified affirmation instead of that which is 
 t, as marked by the falling slide. 
 
 ( H AFTER IV. 
 AOCBNT, 
 
 ACCENT is a stress laid on particular syllables, to promote 
 harmony and distinctness of articulation. The syllable on 
 which accent shall be placed, is determined by custom; and 
 that without any regard to the meaning of words, except in 
 these few cases. 
 
 Where the same word in form, has a different sense, ac- 
 cording to the seat of the accent ; as des'ert, (a wilderness,) 
 desert', (merit). Or the accent may distinguish between the 
 same word used as a noun or an adjective ; as com'pact, (an 
 agreement,) compact', (close.) Or U may distinguish the 
 noun from the verb thus : . 
 
 Abstract, to absfrac/',- ez'port, to export'. 
 
 The seat of accent may be transpired by emphasis ; as, 
 
 He must increase, but I must decrease. 
 
 Thin corruptible rnunt jiut on incorruption. 
 
 What fellowship h ith /. ifcousnrs* with u ^righteousness 1 
 
 Tlu accented syllable of a wnrdualteayt uttered wilt a t.-ii DF.H naif than 
 tke ml. When Ike syllable has the mini' injection, ike tlide continues up- 
 ward till the word is'jinithed ; to that when several syllables of a word fat- 
 Una tke accent, tkry rite la a higher note than that wkick it accented ; and 
 when tke accented nillablf it tke last in a word, it it alto tke highest. Hut 
 when tke accented tyUable has thr faJl<m.' slide, it is alirain struck with a 
 higher note than any other syllable in that word. 
 
 Thus ; rising slide. 
 
 Did he dare to propose such intenv?
 
 EMPHASIS. 39 
 
 Here the slide which begins on ro<r, continues to rise on the three fol- 
 lowing syllables; but in the question, Will you go lo-ddy? the same 
 elide terminates with the syllable on which it begins. 
 
 In the falling slide, thus : 
 
 The testimony was given not by narrative, but by inter ^^, 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EMPHASIS. 
 
 EMPHASIS is governed by the laws of sentiment, being in- 
 separably associated with thought and emotion. It is the 
 most important principle, by which elocution is related to 
 the operations of mind. Hence when it stands opposed to 
 the claims of custom or of harmony, these always give way 
 to its supremacy. 
 
 Now I presume that every one, who is at all accustomed 
 to accurate observation on this subject, must be sensible 
 how very little this grand principle is regarded in forming 
 our earliest habits of elocution ; and therefore how hopeless 
 are all efforts to correct what is wrong in these habits, with- 
 out a just kno wledg^of^iiphasis . ,J^ 
 
 What then is enfphaMj yLj^^fca^tistmfativwjJ.terance of 
 words, which are especially significant, ivith-fsucltifa degree 
 knd kind of stress, as conveys their meaning in the best man- 
 ner. 
 
 According to this definition, I would include the whole 
 subject under emphatic stress and emphatic inflection. 
 
 Sect. 1. Emphatic Stress. 
 
 This consists chiefly in the. loudness of the note, but in- 
 cludes also the time in which important words are uttered. 
 A good reader or speaker, when he utters a word on
 
 EMPHATIC 
 
 which the meaning of a sentence is suspended, spontaneously 
 dwells on that word, according to the intensity of its mean- 
 ing. TtTc significance and weight which he thus attaches to 
 words ^MT are important, is a very different thing from the 
 abrupt and jerking emphasis, which is often witnessed in a 
 bad delivery. 
 
 It is generally true that a subordinate rank belongs to par- 
 ticles, and to' all those words which merely express some cir- 
 cumstance of a thought. And when a word of this sort is 
 raised abov^ its relative importance, by an undue stress in 
 pronunciation, we perceive a violence done to other words of 
 more significance. 
 Thus: 
 
 Show pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive, 
 
 Let a repenting rebel live. 
 
 But to show that emphasis attaches itself not to the part 
 of speech, but to the meaning of a word, let one of these 
 little words become important in sense, and then it demands a 
 correspondent stress of voice ; as, 
 
 " Then said the high priest, are the*e things 26?" 
 
 Again : 
 
 " Paul had determined to sail by Ephesus." 
 
 This sentgfl^afj^B^Bflfari^to stress -on Kplu-sus, implies 
 
 as a common 
 
 2r place. 
 
 tic stress on by expresses tin- true b< -:. 
 namely, that he did not mean to stop then-, thus : Paul 
 had determined to sail by Ephesus." t 
 
 In the case that follow* too, we tee how the meaning of a sentence 
 often depend* on the manner in whirh utter one short word. "One 
 of the servants of the high prictft. (being his kinsman whose ear I' 
 <ut off) aUh, ilid not I see thw in th*- unnlrn with him V Now if we 
 utter thin, as inofT readers d, with 4 a stress on kinsman, and a sbm 
 pause after it, we make thr renb-ncr tiffin;. mn who*- 
 
 Peter cut off was kinsmnn to the high priest, which wa* not the flV* 
 But a stress upon kit, makes this nnrant, kinsman to another man, who 
 received ths wounJ
 
 A!!:-OI.I;TI: i-.MriiAT.iu STKES.-. 41 
 
 These illustrations show that the principle of emphatic stress is per- 
 fectly simple ; and that it falls on a. particular word, not chiefly because 
 that word belongs to one or another class in grammar, but because, in 
 the present case, it is important in sense. To design ata the words that 
 are thus important, by the action of the voice in emphasis, is just what 
 the etymological import of this term implies, namely, to show, to point 
 out, to make manifest. 
 
 But further to elucidate a subject, that has been treated with much 
 obscurity, emphatic stress may be distinguished into that which is absolute, 
 and that which is antithetic or relative. 
 
 Absolute empliatic stress. 
 
 Walker, and others who have been implicitly guided by 
 his authority, without examination, lay down the broad posi- 
 tion, that emphasis always implies antithesis ; and that it can 
 never be proper to give emphatic stress to a word, unless it 
 stands opposed to something in sense. 
 
 The theory which supposes this, is too narrow to corres- 
 pond with the philosophy of elocution. Emphasis is the soul 
 of delivery, because it is the most discriminating mark of 
 emotion. Contrast is among the sources of emotion : and the 
 kind of contrast really intended by Walker and others, namely 
 that of affirmation and negation, it re peculiarly the province 
 of emphasis to designate. But this is not the whole of its 
 province. There are other sources, besides antithetic rela- 
 tion, from which the mind receives strong and vivid impres- 
 sions, which it is the office of vocal language, to express. 
 Thus exclamation, apostrophe, and bold^figures in general, 
 denoting high emotion, demand a correspondent force in 
 pronunciation ; and that too in many cases where the em- 
 phatic force laid on a word is absolute, because the thought 
 expressed by that word is forcible of itself, without any aid 
 from contrast. 
 
 Thus : 
 
 Up! comrades up! 
 
 VVpe unto you, Pharisees'. 
 
 Hence! home I you idle creatures. 
 
 Angels ! and ministers of grace, defend us
 
 ANTITHETIC OK RKI.ATIVE BTRESi. 
 
 Antithetic or relative strest. 
 
 The principle on which the stress depends in this 
 will be evident from a few example*. 
 
 Study, not so much to skew knowledge as to aeqtiirr it 
 
 He that cannot bear a jrt, should not mair one. 
 
 It is not so easy to hide one's faults, us to mend them. 
 
 We think less of the injuries we do, than of those we infer 
 
 It is not so difficult to talk well, as to lire well 
 
 When the antithetic terms in a sentence are both ex- 
 pressed, the mind instantly perceives the opposition between 
 them, and the voice as readily marks the proper distinction. 
 But when only one of these terms is expressed, the other is 
 to be made out by reflection ; and in proportion to tho ease 
 or difficulty with which this antithetic relation is perceived 
 by the mind, the emphatic sense is more or less vivid. On 
 this principle, when a word expresse one part of a contrast, 
 while it only suggest* the other, that word must be spoken 
 with a force adapted to its peculiar office ; and this is the 
 very case where the power of emphasis rises to its highest 
 point. Exam] 
 
 I that denied thee gold, will gire my heart. 
 
 Here the antithetic terms fold nnd heart, being both expressed, a com- 
 mon emphatic strew on these, make* the sense obvious. But in the fol- 
 lowing case, only one part of the antithesis is expressed. Brutus says, 
 
 You wrong' d yourylf, to write in such a case. 
 
 The strong emphams on yoitrstlf, implies that Cassius thought himself 
 injured by some other person. Accordingly we see in the preceding sen- 
 tence his charge against Brutus, " you have wrong'd me." 
 Again, Brutus says to Cassius, 
 
 You have done that you should be sorry for. 
 
 With n ulight stress upon inrry. this implies that hr had done wrong, bat 
 suggests nothing of the antithetic meaning, denoted by the true empha- 
 sis; thus, 
 
 You harr done that you shovld be sorry for. 
 
 This emphssis on the former word implies, " Not only are you liable 
 to do wrong, hut you far* done so already ;" on thr latter it implies, 
 " though TOO are not sorry, you aught to be sorry " This wa precisely 
 the meaning of Brutus, for he MpBld to a threat of Ca*sius, " I may do 
 that I shall be sorry for."
 
 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 43 
 
 I . 
 
 Sect. 2. Emphatic Inflection. 
 
 Thus far our view of emphasis has been limited to the 
 degree of stress with which emphatic words are spoken. 
 But this is only a part of the subject. The kind of stress 
 is not less important to the sense, than the degree. Let 
 any one glance his eye over the examples of the foregoing 
 pages, and he will see that strong emphasis demands, in all 
 cases, an appropriate inflection ; and that to change this in- 
 flection perverts the sense. This will be perceived at once 
 in the following case : " We must take heed not only to 
 what we say, but to what we do" By changing this slide, 
 and laying the falling on say and the rising on do, every ear 
 must feel that violence is done to the meaning. So in this 
 case, 
 
 The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars ; 
 But in ourselves, that we are underlings ; 
 
 the rising inflection or circumflex on stars and the falling 
 inflection on ourselves is so indispensable, that no reader of 
 the least taste would mistake the one for the other. But 
 the principle which I wish to illustrate, will be more ob- 
 vious, by recurring to the case recently mentioned, in which 
 one part of a contrast is expressed, and the other only sug- 
 gested ; so that the whole meaning of a sentence depends 
 on the emphatic inflection given to a single word. A strong 
 example of this has already been given in the perversion of 
 sense which would arise from wrong inflection on the word 
 drunkard ; see the close of RULE IV., p. 32. Another ex- 
 ample we have in Paul's exhortation to Christian servants, 
 "And they that have believing masters, let them not de- 
 spise them, because they are brethren ; but rather do them 
 service," <fec. The meaning is, their being fellow Chris- 
 tians, is no reason why they should be disobeyed as masters ; 
 and this the rising slide on brethren expresses. The fall- 
 ing slide would express a very different sense, namely, that
 
 KMHISIH l\. 
 
 this Christian relation is a suflirient reason why the servants 
 should not despise their masters. Again, a distinguished 
 writer says of some conceited men ; They have not pa- 
 tience to read a book, till they thoroughly understand it." 
 His meaning is, they never read it so as to understand ; and 
 this the rising slide expresses. But the other slid* would 
 imply, that they have patience to read it, after they under- 
 ttaiid it. 
 
 One more question remains to be answered ; how 
 we know when an emphatic word demands the rising and 
 when the falling inflection? 
 
 If the reader has studied the RULES OF INFLECTION 
 which begin at p. 29, he can seldom be at a loss to an- 
 this question for himself. According to established laws of 
 voice, he will know what inflection to give emphatic words, 
 when connected by the disjunctive or ; as, " Will you ride, 
 or walk ?" So when the direct question and answer occur ; 
 as, " Arm'd, say you ? Arm'rf, my lord." So when ne- 
 gation is opposed to affirmation ; as, " He will not come to- 
 day, but to-morrow." 
 
 Besides these general remarks, it may be added, that the 
 voice, instinctively accompanies emphatic, jtotitivc ajJ't 
 with, the falling slide, and the antithetic negation with the 
 rising. 
 
 But there i* a large class of nentences, in which qualified affirma- 
 . ml* tlic risin<: turn often where .in antithotii 
 
 oliji . - cxpn-SHi-c! It i- nut llii' *ini|i|i: 
 
 ri-in^' uliilf. 1'vit tin- circumflex, \\liii-h il si^iiMt. * t!>; 
 RU. The two. the 
 
 ame, thnt it i ! wlii.-h is us, d ; \vhil. m otln-r ";>- 
 
 fTii-r of tli-- rirciiiiiflcx i o pwulinr n to mnk<- ii <|iiil" : 
 lo an ear of any dicrimini>ti"ii I tli 
 
 (M-iinn iHtwrrn the flint and wr>fi! n 'rf 
 
 orrurs. in tli- fullnv J'>lm. wn it 
 
 and they s:> : "ill ""> ft- 
 
 he w 
 
 in.- rmphnflu, \ 
 
 relation i* exprewed or uneoled, U, Uie t' 
 
 affirmation, or enunciation >f n tboant -_ r v : thr riming 
 
 rrmuct negation, or qualified and cttuMifinl amrmtioo. la
 
 EMPHATIC INFLECTION. 45 
 
 the latter case the antithetic object, if there is one, may be suggested 
 ironically, or hypothetically, or comparatively ; thus, 
 
 Ironically : 
 
 They tell us to be moderate ; but they, they are to revel in profusion. 
 HypotheticdUy ; 
 
 If men see our faults, they will talk among themselves, though we re- 
 fuse to let them talk to us. 
 
 Comparatively ; . 
 
 The beggar was blind as well as lame. 
 He is more knave than fool. 
 
 In such a connection of two correlate words, whether in contrast or 
 comparison, the most prominent of the two in sense, that in which the 
 essence of the thought lies, commonly has the strong, falling emphasis ; 
 and that which expresses something subordinate or circumstantial, has 
 the rising. The same rising or circumflex emphasis prevails where the 
 thought is conditional, or something is implied or insinuated^, rather than 
 strongly expressed. 
 
 The amount is, that generally the weaker emphasis, where there is 
 tender, or conditional, or partial enunciation of thought, requires the 
 voice to rise : while the strong emphasis, where the thought is bold, and 
 the language positive, adopts the falling slide, except where some coun- 
 teracting principle occurs, as in the interrogative inflection. In all such 
 cases, explanation becomes obscurity, if carried out of its proper limits. 
 Beyond these, I can no more tell why sorrow or supplication incline the 
 voice to the rising slide, while indignation or command incline it to the 
 falling, that I can tell why one emotion flashes in the eye, and another 
 vents itself in tears. Nor is it reasonable to demand such explanations 
 on this subject, as are not expected on any other. The logician rests in 
 his consciousness and his experience as the basis of argument ; and 
 philosophy no more requires or allows us to push our inquiries beyond 
 first principles or facts, in elocution, than in logic. 
 
 Emphatit Clause. 
 
 It will be readily perceived that the stress proper to be 
 laid on any single word, depends much on the comparative 
 stress with which other words in the same sentence are pro- 
 nounced. A whisper, if it is soft or strong, according to 
 sense, may be as truly discriminating as the loudest tones. 
 The voice should be disciplined to this distinction, in order to 
 avoid the common fault, which confounds vociferation with 
 emphatic expression.
 
 K.MPIIA Tic ARTICULATION. 
 
 Bat there are cases in which more than common stress be- 
 longs to several words in succession, forming an emphatic 
 clause. In some cases of this sort, the several syllables have 
 nearly equal stress ; thus : 
 
 Heaven and earth will witness, 
 
 IP ROME MDT FILL, that we are innocent 
 Again; 
 
 Could we but climb where Mooes stood 
 
 And view the landscape o'er, 
 Not Jordan's stream, nor DEATH'S COLD FLOOD 
 
 Should fright us from the shore. 
 
 In uttering the emphatic clause, in these cases, the voice 
 drops its pitch, and proceeds nearly in a grave, deliberate 
 monotone. 
 
 In other cases, such a clause is to be distinguished from 
 the rest of the sentence, by a general increase of force ; and 
 yet its words retain a relative difference among themselves, in 
 quantity, stress, and inflection. One example may make this 
 last remark still plainer. Suppose Paul to have said merely, 
 " I came not to* baptize, but to preach" The contrast ex- 
 pressed, limits the emphasis to two words. But take the 
 whole sentence, as it is in Paul's language, " I came not to 
 baptize, but to preach the, GOSPEL ;" and you have a contrast 
 between an emphatic word, and an emphatic clause. And 
 though the sense is just as before, you must change the stress 
 in this clause from preach to gospel, or you utter nonsense. 
 If you retain the stress on preach, the paraphrase is, " I came 
 not to baptize the gospel, but to preach the gospel." 
 
 Double Emphasis. 
 
 This is always grounded on antithetic relation, expressed in 
 pairs of contrasted objects. It will be sufficiently illustrated 
 by a very few examples. 
 
 " The WN*f arc slave* to wttwttjr,
 
 MODULATION. 47 
 
 " And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but con- 
 tiderest not the beam that is in thine own eye 1" 
 
 There is but one remark, which is important to be made in this case. 
 In attempting to give the utmost significance to each of the terms, stand- 
 ing in close succession, we are in danger of diminishing the amount of 
 meaning, expressed by the whole. The only rule that can be adopted 
 is, so to adjust the stress and inflection of voice, on the different terms, 
 as shall most clearly, and yet most agreeably convey the sense of the 
 entire passage. There is still another kind of sentences, in which there 
 occurs what I would call CUMULATIVE EMPHASIS. This consists of a 
 complex thought, made up of particulars, expressed in a succession of 
 emphatic words. A striking example of this we have in Paul's indig- 
 nant reply to the message from the magistrates, that he and his asso- 
 ciates, unjustly imprisoned, might be released, and go quietly away. 
 " But Paul said, they have beaten us, openly, uncondemned, being Romans, 
 and have cast us into prison ; and now do they thrust us out privily ? 
 nay, verily ; but let them come themselves, and fetch us out." 
 
 Here there is no difficulty from that antithetic mixing of terms just 
 now alluded to. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MODULATION. 
 
 
 
 THIS includes a number of distinct topics, which may per- 
 haps with sufficient exactness be brought together in one 
 chapter. % 
 
 Sect. I. -Faults of Modulation. 
 
 1. Monotony. The monotone, employed with skill, in pro- 
 nouncing a simile or occasionally an elevated or forcible 
 thought, may have great rhetorical effect; just as other 
 movements of the voice, are felt to be proper, when they 
 are prompted by genius and emotion. But the thing I 
 mean to condemn, is that dull repetition of sounds, on the 
 same pitch, and with the same quantity, which the hearers 
 ascribe to want of spirit in the speaker. Want of variety is 
 fatal to vivacity and interest in delivery, on the same prin- 
 ciple that it is so in all other cases. In music, a succession
 
 MIM \.\ 
 
 of perfect conc'nl>, -specially on the same note, would be 
 intolerable. 
 
 /</. An unskilful reader, perhaps 
 
 resolved to avoid monotony, may think nothing more is 
 necessary, than to employ the greatest possible number of 
 notes; and thus his chief aim is to leap from on.- extreme 
 to another of his voice. In a short time this attempt at 
 variety becomes a regular return of similar notes, at stu 
 intervals. 
 
 Another defect, of the same sort, arises from an attempt to 
 produce variety by a frequent and arbitrary change of stress. 
 But here too the only advantage gained is, that we exchange 
 an absolute for a relative sameness ; for the favorite stress 
 returns periodically without regard to sense. 
 
 There is still another kind of this uniform variety, which 
 is extremely common. It consists in the habit of striking 
 sentence at the beginning, with a high and full voice, which, be- 
 comcs gradually weaker and lower, as the sentence proceeds, es- , 
 pecially if it has much length, till it is closed perhaps with 
 one quarter of the impulse with which it commenced. Then 
 the speaker, at the beginning of a new sentence, inflates his 
 lungs, and pours out a full volume of sound, for d few words, 
 sliding downwards again, to a feeble close. 
 
 Sect. 2. Remedies. 
 
 1. The most indispensable attainment, towards the cure 
 of bad habits in managing the voice, is the spirit of empha- 
 sis. Suppose a student of elocution to have a scholastic 
 tone, or some other of the faults iiinitiov 
 him emphasis, and you have taken the most : y to 
 
 ve the defect. It is difficult to give a particular i! 
 tnition of my meaning, except by the living voii-c. ; but the 
 experiment is worthy of a trial, to see if the faulty ma: 
 cannot be represented to the eye. Read the following pas-
 
 MODULATION. 49 
 
 sage from the Spectator ;* recollecting at the beginning of 
 each sentence, to strike the words in the largest type, with a 
 high and full voice, gradually sinking away in pitch and 
 quantity, as the type diminishes, to the close. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 OUR SIGHT IS THE MOST PERFECT, AND MOST DE- 
 LIGHTFUL, OF ALL OUR SENSES. IT FILLS THE MIND WITH 
 THE LARGEST VARIETY OF IDEAS, CONVERSES WITH 
 
 ITS OBJECTS AT THE GREATEST DISTANCE, AND CONTINUES 
 THE LONGEST IN >ACTION, WITHOUT BEING TIRED OR SATIATED 
 WITH ITS PROPER ENJOYMENTS. THE SENSE OF FEELING 
 CAN INDEED GIVE US A NOTION OF EXTENSION, SHAPE, 
 
 AND ALL OTHER IDEAS THAT*ENTER AT THE EYE, EXCEPT COLORS. 
 
 * 
 
 AT THE SAME TIME, IT is VERY MUCH CONFINED IN rrg 
 
 OPERATIONS, TO THE NUMBER, BULK, AND DISTANCE OF ITS 
 PARTICULAR OBJECTS. 
 
 If you succeed in understanding the above illustration, then 
 vary the trial on the same example, with a view to another 
 fault, the periodic stress and tone. Take care to speak the 
 words, printed in small capitals, with a note sensibly higher 
 and stronger than the rest, dropping the voice immediately 
 after these elevated words, into an undulating tone, on the 
 following syllables, thus : 
 
 Our sight is the MOST perfect, and MOST delightful, of all our sense*. 
 It fills the mind with the largest VARIETY of ideas, converses with its object 
 at the GREATEST distance, and continues the longest in action, without 
 being TIRED or satiated with its proper enjoyments. The sense of feeling 
 can indeed GIVE us a notion of extension, shape, and all other ideas that 
 ENTER at the eye, except colors. At the same time, it is very much CON- 
 
 * No. 411. 
 3
 
 60 MODULATION. 
 
 FINED in its operation*, to the number, BCLK, and distance of its partfeo- 
 Ur object*.* 
 
 It is necessary now to give this same passage once more, 
 BO dWngVMhing the chief words, by the Italic character, as 
 to exhibit the true pronunciation. 
 
 Our sight is the most perfect, and most delightful, of all our 
 It fills the mind with the largest variety of ideas ; converses with its ob- 
 jects at the greatest distance , and continues the longest in action with- 
 out being tired or satiated with its proper enjoyments. The sense of 
 feeling can indeed give us a notion of extension, shape, and all other 
 ideas that enter at the eye, except colors. At the same time, it is very 
 much confined in its operations, to the number, bulk, and distance of it* 
 particular objects. 
 
 But as no word in the foregoing passage, is strongly emphatir. my 
 meaning may be more evident from an example or two, where a discrim- 
 inating stress on a single word, determines the manner in which the fol 
 lowing words are to be spoken. 
 
 Take this couplet from Pope, and read, it first with the metrical accent 
 and tone ; thus, 
 
 What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
 Is pride, the never failing vice of fool*. 
 
 Now let it be observed that in these lines there is really but one em- 
 phatic word, n.imrly, jrridc. If we mark this with the strong emphasis, 
 and the falling infWtinn. the following words will of necessity be 
 spoken as they should l>v dropping a note or two below the key note of 
 the sentcnce,f and proceeding nearly on a monotone to the end ; 
 thus, 
 
 What the weak head, with strongest bias rules, 
 
 
 
 ' the never failing vice of fools. 
 
 Walker's ear, though in cases of emphatic inflection, very discrim- 
 inating, seems in other rae to have been perverted by hi* i!. 
 knrmirnif infleriion, as appear* from his manner of pronouncing the 
 following couplet, which nearly coincide* with the tone I am con- 
 demning : 
 
 A brave man struggling in the storms of fts, 
 And greatly falling, with a falling stole. 
 
 f By key noU, I mean the prnailini; note, that which TOO bear when 
 man rr.-ult nloud in another room, while you cannot distinguish any 
 word* that he utters.
 
 PITCH OF VOICE. 51 
 
 Another example may help to render this more intelligible. 
 
 Qifli 
 Must we the author of the public cdlam ^ 
 
 Or must we des &. . 
 < 
 
 the author of the pxiblic calamities. 
 
 In pronouncing these examples, if the proper sound is given to the 
 emphatic words, all the rest must be spoken essentially as here described. 
 It follows that the most direct means of curing artificial tones, is to ac- 
 quire a correct emphasis. But, 
 
 2. In order to this, another attainment seems indispen- 
 sable, namely, some good degree of discrimination as to vocal 
 tones and inflections. 
 
 Some, who can imitate a sound, immediately after hearing it from an- 
 other voice ^ suppose this to be the only way in which it can be done. But 
 let a thousand persons, who understand the English language, repeat 
 the* familiar question, "Do you expect to go, or sidy?" And will not 
 every one of the thousand give the same turn of voice on the words in 
 Italics 1 Where is the difficulty then of placing such a mark on these 
 turns of voice, that they may be transferred to any other word 1 This 
 simple principle suggested to Walker his notation of sounds for the eye ; 
 and incomplete as it is, something of the kind is so necessary to the stu- 
 dent of elocution, that, without it, the aid of a living teacher cannot sup- 
 ply the defect. And in most cases, nothing is wanting to derive advan- 
 tage from such a theory but a little patience and perseverance in its ap- 
 plication. 
 
 SECT. 3. Pitch of Voice. 
 
 This is a relative modification of voice ; by which we 
 mean that high or low note, which prevails in speaking, 
 and which has a governing influence upon the whole scale 
 of notes employed. In every one's voice, this governing 
 note varies with circumstances, but it is sufficiently exact 
 to consider it as threefold ; the upper pitch, used in call- 
 ing to one at a distance ; the middle, used in conversation ; 
 and the lower, used in cadence, or in a grave, emphatic un- 
 der key. Exertion of voice on the first, exposes it to break ; 
 *nd on the last, renders articulation thick and difficult, and
 
 52 UL AMITY. 
 
 leaves no room for compass below the pitch. The middle 
 key, or that which we spontaneously adopt in earnest con- 
 versation, allows the greatest variety and energy in speak- 
 ing. 
 
 Whether this is high or low, compared with that of another man, is 
 not essential, provided it be not in extreme. Among the first secular 
 orator* of Britain, some have spoken on the grave, bass key ; while Pitt'* 
 voice, it is said, was a full tenor, and Pox's a treble. 
 
 The voice that is on the bass-key, if clear and well-toned, has some ad- 
 vantages in point of dignity. But a high tone, uttered with the same 
 effort of lungs, is more audible than a low one. Without referring to 
 other proofs of this, the fart now mentioned is sufficient, that we spon- 
 taneously raise our key, in culling to one at a distance ; for the simple 
 reason, that we instinctively know he will be more likely to hear us, 
 in a high note than a low one. So universal is this instinct, that we 
 may observe it in very little children, and even in the call and response 
 of the parent bird and her young, and in most brute animals that have 
 voice. 
 
 The influence of emotion on the voice, is also among the pliilosopbical 
 cmiMcli-rntions pertaining to this subject. A man under strong intellec- 
 tual r xrii>-mrnt. walks with a firmer and quicker step than when he is 
 cool ; and the same exciicnx nt which braces the muscles, and gives 
 energy to the movements of the body, has a correspondent effect on the 
 movements of the voice. Earnestness in common conversation assumes 
 it tiijii.T note, as it proceeds, though the person addressed is at no greater 
 distance than before. 
 
 A practical corollary from these tngffltinnt is, that the speaker or reader 
 should avoid a Muk pticA, at the beginning, lest he rise, with the increase 
 of interest, to painful and unmanageable elevation. 
 
 The proper means of avoiding extremes, is to learn the distinction be- 
 tween farce and elevation ; and to acquire the power of swelling the voic 
 on a low note. This introduces our next topic of consideration. 
 
 SECT. 4. Quantity. 
 
 This term I use, not in the restricted sense of grammarians 
 and prosodists, but as including rotundity tuid Julltiest of tone, 
 loudness, and time. 
 
 Rotundity and Fullne**. As to inflection, emphasis, 
 and the varied adaptation of tones to sentiment, the only 
 laws of voice, in deliberate speaking and reading, that can 
 be considered as natural, are derived from conversation. 
 But in another respect, the habits acquired from this source, 
 occasion tome of the most stubborn difficulties, which the
 
 QUANTITY. 53 
 
 learner in elocution has to surmount. For, to what purpose 
 has he been accustomed to use his voice ? Almost exclusively 
 in a hurried utterance of a sentence or two at once, to an indi- 
 vidual, or a small number of persons, so near him, or so well 
 acquainted with what he is saying, as to understand him, 
 though it be but half spoken. Thus, by using his voice only 
 in conversation, (excepting occasionally, when he has opened 
 his organs to a fuller note, in speaking a word or two, to some 
 one at a distance,) he has become confirmed in a rapid, indis- 
 tinct, feeble enunciation of the chief elementary sounds. But 
 when he comes to train his organs, in exercises of elocution ; 
 that is, when he comes to read or speak any thing, so that it 
 may be audible and interesting to a considerable number of 
 hearers, a new task is imposed on his vocal powers. Cost 
 what it may, he must exchange the clipping, slurring, jerking 
 sounds of fireside-talk, for a clear, open articulation, or he 
 cannot speak nor read well. Dignity and force in delivery, 
 depend much on the power of filling, and swelling, and pro- 
 tracting an open vowel sound ; but no one attains this power, 
 without pains and care ; and without a process different from 
 any thing that is ordinarily acquired in conversation. 
 
 It requires very little skill in sounds, to perceive that a in 
 hat, is shorter than a in hate ; that is, in the former case, the 
 organs pass quickly over the vowel to the consonant, in the 
 latter there is more continuance on the vowel. Now this con- 
 tinuance may be protracted, more or less, at pleasure ; for it 
 requires only that we begin the sound of a in hate, and keep- 
 ing the organs in exactly the same position, let the stream of 
 
 sound proceed ; thus, ha . . . . te, ha te. 
 
 Just so, if you bring the organs to the proper position, and 
 begin the sound of a in hat, you may protract it through the 
 whole stream of breath, if you please, before the t is spoken, 
 ha ....%.. 
 
 But as every experiment of this kind implies a longer note
 
 on the vowel sound, and tends almost of course to a louder 
 and hiyhrr note, it will lx- tatter illustrated in connection with 
 the following articles. 
 
 Loudness. In theory, perhaps, every one can easily und>r- 
 stand, that a sound may be either loud or soft, on the same 
 note. The only difference, for example, betwixt the sound 
 produced by a heavy stroke, and a gentle one, on the same 
 bell, is in the quantity or momentum. This distinction as ap- 
 plied to music, is perfectly familiar to all acquainted with that 
 art. As applied to elocution, however, it is not so easily 
 made ; for it is a common thing for speakers to confound high 
 sounds with loud, and low with snft, Hene we often hear 
 it remarked of one, that he speaks in a low voice, when the 
 meaning is, a feeble one ; and perhaps if he were told that he 
 is not loud enough, he would instantly raise his key, instead 
 of merely increasing his quantity on the same note. 
 
 If any one, who has given no attention to this point, thinks it too 
 easy to demand attmtion, he may be better satisfied by a single exper- 
 iment. Let him take this line of Shakspeare 
 
 O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome ! 
 
 and read it first in ;i voico barely audible. Then let him read it again 
 and again, on the same pitch, doubling his quantity or impulse of sound. 
 at each r-|>< -tition. and he will find that it p ijuirrs ureat care and man-' 
 agement to do this without raising hi? voice to a higher note. 
 
 depend* on the possession of perfect vocal ergons, 
 and on the due exercise of these. 
 
 The hmfs, trachea, larynx, glntti*, and epiglottis, are organs of mend, 
 but not of other*, nnm-K 
 
 lips, if which are also organs of artiml. 
 
 these organ* are all JUMM!. the voice of a speaker has sometimes been 
 trained to such power as to be distinctly heard by twenty thousand 
 people. 
 
 To strengthen tin- voice by exercise, obscnre these 
 (\\ U ,',. >,. >.. r \i>ii use your M>i<->- .M common occasions, use as mucA 
 
 T-,.;0 ,M ;",, ' ' , ' ,.'l /.'<,/ ,>!,, ,i n< /J f!,l'nl i r,v. 
 
 (3) Avoid nl. >^, especially in eases of kaanenat. 
 
 (4) Avoid habits " 'it. that 
 cramp the vital functions ; stimulating food tr drinla, in caanect 
 spea>ing ; and sudden exposure U> coltl atr t when the lungs are kcated, 
 
 Time. The reader i* denired here tn turn back to the
 
 QUANTITY. 55 
 
 remarks which I made, p. 53, on the words hat and hate, 
 exemplifying the protraction of sound in a long vowel. 
 That he may the better understand my meaning, let him 
 suppose himself listening to a military officer, at the head of 
 a brigade, giving the word of command, march. The only 
 way in which he can possibly utter this word, so as to be 
 heard by several thousand men, is so to manage the only 
 vowel in it, as to expend upon it the full power of his voice. 
 To do this, he must not clip off the a, as he might in con- 
 versation, but must strike it on that key note where his 
 voice has most strength, and then protract this broad, open 
 sound, perhaps for two seconds, before he touches the con- 
 sonants which follow ; thus, MA RCH. The case 
 
 is just the same with the still broader vowel sound, in the 
 word halt, as uttered in military command. 
 
 That there is no impossibility in acquiring this power of 
 protracting and swelling any open sound, is evident from the 
 fact, that it is constantly done in music, when a pointed sem- 
 ibreve holds the voice to one continuous note, perhaps for 
 three seconds. 
 
 But as discipline of the voice on unmeaning, elementary 
 sounds, seems an arbitrary, and somewhat forbidding exer- 
 cise, I shall set down a few brief examples, in which senti- 
 ment and emotion demand the above distinctions to be made, 
 as to fullness, loudness, and time. These are intended as 
 mere specimens, from which the reader will easily understand 
 how to select others of similar character, from the EXERCISES, 
 under different heads, especially Transition. These it will 
 also be observed are taken from cases of exclamation, or 
 other strong emotion, and addressed for the most part to 
 persons supposed to be at a distance, requiring a full, loud 
 note, on the emphatic words. 
 
 He woke to hear his sentry's shriek, 
 
 To ARMS ! they come ! the GREEK ! the GREEK !
 
 ">(5 eo.MPAss 01 voiur. 
 
 -Farewell, happy field*, 
 
 Where joy forever dwells. HAIL, horrors ! HAIL, 
 Infernal world I 
 
 He shook the fragment of his blade, 
 
 And shouted Victory 1 
 
 CHARGE ! Chester, CHARGE ! 6x, Stanley, 6n ! 
 
 Zophiel, in mid nir, aloud thus cried, 
 
 ARM, warriors! ARM, for FIOHT. 
 
 Satan was heard commanding loud ; 
 
 VANGUARD ! to right and left the front unfold.* 
 
 But the reader must now be reminded, that while it is often 
 indispensable to prolong, and fill out the sound of a word, 
 under strong emphasis, it would be preposterous to speak 
 common words in this manner. 
 
 No variety of tones could produce the thrilling effects of music if every 
 note were a semibreve. So in elocution, if every word and syllable 
 were uttered with the same length, the uniformity would be as intoler- 
 able as the worst monotony. 
 
 The easy flow of delivery, requires that particles and subordinate syl- 
 lables, should be touched as lightly as is consistent with di-m 
 while both sentiment and harmony demand, that the voice should throw 
 an increase of quantity upon important words by resting on thrin. or by 
 swell and protraction of sound, or both. He whose voice habitually 
 prolongs short syllables, and such words as and, from, to, the, &c., must 
 be a heavy speaker. 
 
 But time in elocution, has a larger application than that which re- 
 specU words and clauses, I mean that which respects the general rate 
 of ili livery. In this case, it is not practicable, as in music, nor perhaps 
 desirable, to establish a fixed standard, to which every re.ider or sneaker 
 shall conform. The habits of different men may differ considerably in 
 rate of uttterance, without beinjr ch.-irgedble with limit. Hut I refer 
 rnthrr to the difference which cm<itii>M will prcxluce, in the rate of the 
 same individual. I have said before, that those passions which qui< -k- -\ 
 or retard a man's step in walking, will produce a simil.ir effect on his 
 voice in speaking. Narration ; uid flowing . \< hemencr, firm 
 
 and accelerated ; anger and joy, rapid. \\ uthority. sub- 
 
 limity, awe, assume deeper tones, and a slow 
 
 inply we sometimes hear a good r. :ul. r or speaker, when there is some 
 QOOea ttarn of thought, check him*- If in the full current of nttrrnncr, 
 nmi (jive indescribable power to a sentence, or part of a sentence, by 
 dropping his voice, and adopting a slow, full pronunciation. 
 
 Sect. 5. Compau of Voice. 
 In this I refer to the range of notes, above and below 
 
 See ArrrtOKX for more examples, under this bead.
 
 COMPASS OF VOICE. 57 
 
 the governing or natural key, which are required by a spir- 
 ited and diversified delivery. 
 
 Sometimes from inveterate habit, and sometimes from 
 incapacity of the organs, the voice has a strong, clear bot- 
 tom, without any compass upwards. In other cases, it has 
 a good top, but no compass below its key. Extreme in- 
 stances to the contrary there may be, but commonly, I have 
 no doubt that when a speaker uses only a note or two, above 
 and below the key, it arises from habit, and not from organic 
 defect. 
 
 Directions on this subject would be comparatively easy, if all who 
 need them were acquainted with music. But experience taught me long 
 ago, that no theories in elocution, which pre-suppose learners in this art 
 to possess skill in musical sounds, can be generally useful. Multitudes 
 must be taught reading and speaking, who cannot accurately distinguish 
 musical intervals of notes. Those who can do it, will find great facility 
 in cultivating quantity and compass of voice. To such I recommend a 
 course of experiments on different vowel sounds, such as occur in the ex- 
 amples of emphatic words under the last head. Thus, begin with hail, and 
 speak it rather feebly on the lowest note of your voice. Then repeat it, 
 a note higher, and so on through the octave, but still in a small voice. 
 Then do the same tking with increase of- strength, as you raise the note, 
 that is, growing louder as you proceed. Finally, do the same thing with 
 a view to prolongation of sound, uttering the word hail, with one beat, 
 then with two, three, &c. If you attempt to combine it in one exper- 
 iment, compass, Itmdness, and length of sound, the trial of voice will be 
 severe, and should be continued but a short time at once. 
 
 When this experiment is finished, it may be renewed on other words, 
 as arm, charge, hope ; the ultimate aim being in each case, to accustom 
 the voice to notes high and low, laud and long. 
 
 When the student has ascertained his compass, by such experiments on 
 single words, he may then practice reading passages of some length, on 
 that part of his voice which he especially wishes to improve; taking care, 
 in this more protracted exercise, not to pitch on the extreme note of his 
 voice, either way, so far as to preclude some variety above or below, to 
 correspond with natural delivery. 
 
 I would advise him next to read passages where the sentiment and 
 style are specially adapted to the purpose he has in view. If he wishes 
 to cultivate the bottom of his voice, he may take passages of poetry, in 
 which the simile occurs, a figure that generally requires a low and 
 equable movement of voice. 
 
 If he wishes to increase his compass on the higher notes, let him 
 choose passages in which spirited emotion prevails ; especially such as 
 have a succession of interrogative sentences. Instead of giving exam- 
 ples here, I refer the reader to EXERCISES on Compass of Voice. 
 
 3*
 
 58 RHETORICAL FAUIL. 
 
 Sect. 6. Rh> 
 
 Rhetorical punctuation has a few marks of its own, as the 
 point of interrogation, and of admiration, the parenthesis, 
 and the hyphen, all of which denote no grammatical relation, 
 and have no established length. And there is no good reason, 
 if such marks are used at all, why they should not be ren- 
 dered more adequate to their purpose. 
 
 The interrogative mark, for example, is used to denote, 
 not length of pause, but appropriate modi6cation of voice, at 
 the end of a question. But it happens that this one mark, 
 as now used, represents two things, that are exactly contrary 
 to each other. When the child is taught, as he still 
 many schools, always to raise his voice in finishing a ques- 
 tion, he finds it easy to do so in a ca<e like this, " Will you 
 go to-day /" " Hebrews?" But when he comes to 
 
 the irulirc -f <|iie.-tii'ii. not an>\v.-n-d by yes or no, his inMim-t, 
 as I have said before, rebels ngain-t the rule, and he spon- 
 taneously reads with the falling slid', " H7/y are you silent f 
 do you ]>revaricatc ?" Now, in this latter case, if the 
 marks of interrogation were inverted, (^) when its office 
 is to turn the voice downward, it would be discriminating, and 
 significant of its design. 
 
 Supposing the student to be already familiar with the com- 
 mon doctrine of punctuation, it is not my design to discuss it 
 here ; nor ev.-n to dwell upon the distinction between gram- 
 matical and rhetorical pau--s. All that is necessan 
 remark distinctly, that visible punctuation cannot be re 
 
 guide to quantity, any more than to injl< 
 Often the voice must rest, where no pause is allowed ii; 
 mar; especially does this happen, when the speaker would fix 
 attention on a si 1, that stai .inin:i- 
 
 tive to a verb. As, 
 
 Prosperity gains friend*, tulrersilv trie* them. 
 
 Some place the bli in action, somt in cne ; 
 it p!*nuj-r ':nrnt the.
 
 RHETORICAL PAUSE. 59 
 
 Here the words in Italic take no visible pause after them, 
 without violence to grammatical relation. But the ear de- 
 mands a pause after each of these words, which no good 
 reader will fail to observe. 
 
 The same principle extends to the length of pauses. The 
 ., comma, when it simply marks grammatical relation, is very 
 short, as, " He took with him Peter, and James, and John, 
 his disciples." But when the comma is used in language of 
 emotion, though it is the same pause to the eye, it may sus- 
 pend the voice much longer than in the former case ; as in 
 the solemn and deliberate call to attention ; " Men, brethren, 
 and fathers, hearken."* 
 
 This leads me to the chief point, which I had in view under 
 this head, the emphatic pause. It occurs sometimes before, 
 but commonly after a striking thought is uttered, which the 
 speaker thus presents to his hearers, as worthy to command 
 assent, and be fixed in the memory, by a moment of uninter- 
 rupted reflection. 
 
 There is still another pause, so important in delivery, as to 
 deserve a brief notice ; I mean that with which a good speaker 
 or reader marks the close of a paragraph, or division of a dis- 
 course. When he has finished one topic, he will enter on a 
 new one, with a more familiar tone of voice, and after such a 
 pause, as prepares the hearers to accompany him with re- 
 newed satisfaction. 
 
 When the voice has outrun itself, and reached too high 
 
 * The rhetorical pause is as appropriate in music as in elocution. In 
 this respect a skillful composer always conforms to sentiment, in a set 
 piece. In metrical psalmody, though this adaptation cannot be made by 
 the writer of the tune, it ought to he made in some good degree, by the 
 performers. Instead of a tame subserviency to arbitrary quantity, they 
 may often, with powerful effect, insert or omit a pause, as sentiment 
 demands. I have scarcely ever felt the influence of music more, than in 
 one or two cases where the stanzas, being highly rhetorical, were di- 
 vided only by a comma, and the choir spontaneously rushed over the 
 musical pause at the end of the tune, and began it anew, from the im- 
 pulse of emotion. See example, Watts. Book I., Hymn 3, 6, and 7 8 
 and 9 stanzas.
 
 a pitch, one of these paragraph-rests affords the best oppor- 
 tunity to resume the proper 1 
 
 Sect. 7. 7Y 
 
 By this. I mean those sudden chancres of voice which often 
 occur in delivery. 
 
 To designate these changes, besides the rhetorical marks 
 already employed to denote inflections, it will be necessary 
 to adopt several new ones ; and the following may answer 
 the purpose ; signifying that the voice is to be modified, in 
 reading what follows the marks respectively, thus : 
 
 ( )high. ( )sluw. 
 
 ( ) high and loud. ( = ) quick. 
 ( ) low. ( ) plaintive. 
 
 ( 00 ) low and loud. ( || ) rhetorical pause. 
 
 (<) increase. 
 
 Jn respect to these marks, except the last, I observe that, 
 when one of them occurs, it must be left to the rentier's taste 
 to determine how fur its inflence extends in what follows. 
 In ivsp'-et to this mark ( ), it may be used to signify a con- 
 siderable protraction of sound on that syllable, which pre- 
 cedes it, and then it will he inserted in the course of the 
 line, without brackets ; As, 
 
 Heaven and earth will witness, 
 
 IF. Mf8T-. F.U.L --that we are innocent. 
 
 When tli> irk is designed to signify that n jxixsage 
 
 is t-i !. uttert-d with a si we ruff, it will be inserted tluis ( ), 
 where tin- passage begins, the extent of its influence 
 being left to the reader's taste; or it may l>e (-.unbilled 
 with another mark, thus (jj); which would signify f<r. 
 and simp, ntj () would h'njh and <//>. or ( ? ) Iji^li ;md 
 plain*
 
 EXPRESSION. 61 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 ( Q ) And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God ; and the 
 books were opened. 
 
 Gabriel to his next in power thus spake : 
 
 () Uzziel ! II half these draw off, and coast the south, 
 With strictest watch ; these other, II wheel the north. 
 
 ( ) He scarce had ceas'd, when the superior fiend 
 
 Was moving tow'rd the shore ; 
 
 He call'd so loud that all the hollow deep 
 
 Of hell resounded. () Princes, Potentates, 
 
 WARRIORS ! II the flower of heaven, once yours, now lost, 
 
 If such astonishment as this can seize 
 
 Eternal spirits. 
 
 In the following example, we see Satan lamenting his loss 
 of heaven, and then in the dignity of a fell despair, invoking 
 the infernal world. In reading this, when the apostrophe 
 changes, the voice should drop from the tones of lamenta- 
 tion, which are high and soft, to those which are deep and 
 strong, on the words, " Hail, horrors," &c. 
 
 () Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, 
 Said then the lost archangel, this the seat, 
 That we must change for heaven 1 This mournful gloom ! 
 
 For that celestial light ? 
 
 Farewell, happy fields, 
 
 Where joy forever dwells. ( 00 ) HAiL, horrors .' HAIL, 
 Infernal world! And thou, profoundest hell, 
 Receive thy new possessor ! 
 
 Sect. 8. Expression. 
 
 This term I use, in rather a limited sense, to denote the 
 proper influence of reverential and pathetic sentiment on 
 the voice. 
 
 There is a modification of voice, which accompanies 
 awakened sensibility of soul, that is more easily felt than de- 
 scribed ; and this constitutes the unction of delivery. With- 
 out this, thoughts that should impress, attract, or soothe the 
 mind, often become repulsive.
 
 6*2 REPRESENTATION. 
 
 The fact cannot have escaped common observation, that 
 sorrow, and its kindred pa^imis, \vhf>n carried to a high pitch, 
 suspend the voice entirely. In a lower degree, they give it 
 a slender and tremulous utterance. Thus Aaron, when in- 
 formed that his two sons were smitten dead, by a stroke of 
 divine vengeace, " held his peace." The emotions of his 
 heart were too deep to find utterance in words. The highest 
 passion of this sort, is expressed by silence ; and when so 
 far moderated, as to admit of words, it speaks only in abrupt 
 fragments of sentences. Hence it is, that all artificial imita- 
 tion, in this case, is commonly so unlike the reality. It leads 
 to metaphors, to amplification and embellishment, in lan- 
 guage, and to either vociferation or whining in utterance. 
 Whereas the real passion intended to be imitated, if it speaks 
 at all, speaks without ornament, in few words, and in tones 
 that are a perfect contrast to those of declamation. This dis- 
 tinction arises from those laws of the human mind. In- which 
 internal emotion is connected with its external signs. 
 
 The heart, thftt is bursting with grief, feds the sympathy that speak* 
 in a silent grasp of the hand, i . i_"'"tle tunes of voice: while 
 
 it i shocked nt thf cold . , in that utters itsi-lf in many words, 
 
 firmly and formally pronounced. 
 
 ' Passion has its own appropriat* ami this, so far as the 
 
 voice is concerned, is whnt I n. fsnon. That thin may be cul- 
 
 tivated by the efforts of art, to some extent, in evident from the skill 
 whi'-h acton have sometimes attained, in dramntii- exhibition; a skill to 
 wliidi one of the fraternity alluded in hi* remark to a dignitary of the 
 church, the cutting severity of wlii<-h consist* in the /ru/A it contains ; 
 ak of ll.-tions ait if they were realities; you speak of realitir* 
 a* if they wen- fictions." 
 
 The fact, however, is, that thr indescribable power communicated to 
 
 by a delicate s (X'cially a Christian ue.iifci^ 
 
 vond the reach of art to in. 
 
 Sect. 9. Rlulori-nl /fiuliyitr. 
 
 personates two individ- 
 uals or more. It s-. *sary to dwell a little <>n this 
 branch of modulation, which has scarcely been noticed by 
 writers on oratory K\ must have obvrv<d hew
 
 RHETORICAL DIALOGUE. 63 
 
 much more interetting is an exhibition of men, as living 
 agents, than of things in abstract. Now when the orator 
 introduces another man as speaking, he either informs us 
 what that man said, in the third person, or presents him to 
 us as spoken to, in the second person, and as speaking him- 
 self, in the first. 
 
 A thousand examples are at hand, to show the difference 
 between telling us what was said by another man, and intro- 
 ducing that man to speak to us himself. " Jesus told Peter 
 that he should deny him thrice," is narrative. "Jesus 
 said, Peter, thou shalt deny me thrice," is representation. 
 The difference between these two modes of communication 
 it is the province of taste to feel, but of criticism to explain. 
 Let us then analyze a simple thought, as expressed in these 
 two forms : " Jesus inquired of Simon, the son of Jonas, 
 whether he loved him." " Jesus said, Simon, son of Jonas, 
 lovest thou me ?" The difference in point of vivacity is in- 
 stantly perceived, but in what does this difference consist ? 
 In two things. The first manner throws verbs into past time, 
 and pronouns into the third person, producing, in the lat- 
 ter especially, an indefiniteness of grammatical relation, which 
 is unfriendly to the clearness and vivacity of language. At 
 the same time, the energy arising from the vocative case, 
 from the figure of tense, and of interrogation, is sacrificed. 
 As a principle of composition, though commonly overlooked, 
 this goes far to explain the difference between the tame and 
 the vivid in style. 
 
 But the same difference is still more striking, when ana- 
 lyzed by the principles of delivery. Transform an animated 
 question into mere statement of the fact, that such a ques- 
 tion was asked, and all the intonations of voice are changed, 
 so that you do not seem to hear a real person speaking, but 
 are only told that he did speak. This change in expression 
 of voice will be apparent in repeating the two forms of the 
 example last quoted.
 
 THE READING OP POETRY. 
 
 The r- dT will ^tercfive, that the principle whiofe I here aim to illus- 
 trate, though it belong* primarily t.. th> philosophy f style, has a very 
 , v ilrjmrtment of dairrry. 
 
 The man who ! I- (!. n i true eloquence, will find some 
 
 of hi* happiest rcsour.-. s in thu kind of rrprr^ He can break 
 
 through the trammel* of a tame, inanimate address. He can ask ques- 
 tion*, and answer tti. in : ran pcntonate an nrru-'-r and a respondent ; 
 ran suppose himself accused or interrogated, ami <:i vr hi replies. He 
 can call up the absent or the dead, and make them speak through his 
 lips. The skill of representing two or more , 
 management of language and voice, is properly en I 
 lone. It was thus that the great orators of antiquity, and thus that 
 ('hrysostom and Massillon helJ their hearers in 
 
 Sect. 1C. The Reading of Poetry. 
 
 The genius of verse requires that it be pronounced with 
 a fuller swell of the open vowels, and in a manner more me- 
 lodious and flowing than prose. As the peculiar charms of 
 poetry consist very much in delicacy of sentiment, and beauty 
 of language, it would be absurd to read it without regard to 
 these characteristics. But on the other hand, to preset 
 metrical flow of versification, and yet not impair the sense, 
 is no easy attainment. The following general principles may 
 be of use to the student. 
 
 1. In proportion as the sentiment of a passage is ele- 
 vated, inspiring emotions of .dignity or reverence, tin 
 has less variety of inflection, and is more inclined to the 
 monotone. 
 
 j. When the sentiment of a passage is delicate and gen- 
 tle, especially when it is plaintive, it inclines the voice to the 
 rising inflection; and for this reason, p< }uin-s 
 
 llu: rising inflection than pn 
 
 :;. '1'ii.- ri<//>tn <>f rmphtui* must be rtspected in poetry. 
 i he language of a passage Is strong Mid discriminating; 
 iiiaily descriptive, or collixjuiul, the same modifica- 
 tions of voice arc required as in prose. The fmpkatic itrrst 
 and i*flection, that must be iJi/mwW, in prose, to express a 
 thought forcibly, are equally necessary in poetry.
 
 THE READING OF POETRY. 65 
 
 As, 
 
 Say first, of God above, or man below, 
 What can we reason, but from what we know ? 
 
 Is the great chain, that draws all to agree, 
 And drawn supports, upheld by God or tfiee ? 
 
 But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed : 
 What then ? is the reward of virtue bread ? 
 
 4. The metrical accent of poetry is subordinate to sense, 
 and to established usage in pronunciation. That is a child- 
 ish conformity to poetic measure, which we sometimes hear, 
 as marked in the following examples : 
 
 False eloquence, like Ike prismatic glass, 
 Its gaudy colors spreads on every place. 
 Their praise is still, the style is excellent ; 
 The sense they humbly take upon content. 
 
 Where the metrical accent would do violence to every ear of any re- 
 finement, the best way of obviating the difficulty, is to give both the me- 
 trical and the customary accent ; at least so far, that neither shall be very 
 conspicuous; thus 
 
 Our supreme foe, in time may much relent. / cf 
 Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing 
 
 I think of only two exceptions to these remarks on accent. The first 
 is, where a distinguished poet has purposely violated harmony, to make 
 the harshness of nis line correspond with that of the thought. 
 
 As, 
 
 On a sudden open fly, 
 
 With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, 
 The infernal doors ; and on their hinges grate, 
 Harsh thunder. 
 
 The other is where a poet of the same order, without any apparent 
 reason, has so deranged the customary accent, that, to restore it in read- 
 ing, would be a violation of euphony not to be endured ; thus 
 
 With glory attributed to Ahe high 
 Creator. 
 
 Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute > 
 
 5. The pauses of verse should be so managed, if pos- 
 sible, as most fully to exhibit the sense, without sacrificing 
 the harmony of the composition. No good reader can fail
 
 THE KK \l.l\<; OF POETBY. 
 
 to observe the ccxurat pause, occurring after the fourth syl- 
 
 laMe, in tin-si- tin wing lines 
 
 n in the tun li refreshes in the breeze, 
 Glows in the start II and bloMoms in the tree*. 
 
 Yet no good reader would introduce the same pause from 
 regard to melody, where the sense- utterly forbids it, as in 
 this line 
 
 I sit, with sail II civility I read. 
 
 There is another poetical pause, occurring at the end of 
 the line. In blank verse, even when the sense of one line 
 runs closely into the next, the reader may generally, not al- 
 ways, mark the end of the line, by a proper protraction and 
 suspension of voice, on the closing syllable, as in the fol- 
 lowing notation : 
 
 Thus with the year 
 
 Seasons return, but not to me returns 
 Day II or the sweet approach of even or Ihorn. 
 YVnd over them triumphant Death his dart 
 Shook I! but delay'd to strike. 
 
 " The affectation," says Walker, " which most writers of blank verse 
 
 have of extending thr sense 1 y.>m! the linr, is followed l>y a sin 
 
 D in ill' 1 printer, who will often omit a pause at thr rnd of a line 
 in vcrsr. when he would have inserted one in prosr ; and this affectation 
 is still carried farther by tin: reader, who will run the sense of one line 
 into another, when; iln-n- i- the 1< a.st opportunity fur doing it, in order to 
 show that he is too sagacious, to suppose that there is any conclusion in 
 the sense, because the line com -lades." 
 
 In regard to rhyme, there c;i : -nhl that it should 
 
 be so read, as to make the end of tin- line quiti- pfn-cptihl'- 
 t" tin- '\\ivr th- correspondent smuid <>f thr final 
 
 nvllabl'N in wliirh rhyme consists, would be entirely lost. 
 
 1 'In- vowels e and o when apostrophized, in poetry, 
 should be preserved in pronunciation, lint they should be 
 spoken in a manner so - ted, as easily to 
 
 coalesce with \ liable. As, 
 
 Hut of thn two, lew dang'nxu is th' oflenoe. 
 Who durs* defy th' rtmni|iotrnt to arms.
 
 GESTURE, 67 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 GESTURE. 
 
 THOUGH the chief object of this book, is to regulate the 
 voice, in reading and speaking, a few remarks on gesture, may 
 be useful to those members of academies and higher schools, 
 who wish to acquire proper habits in exercises of declamation. 
 These remarks I shall introduce, with a very brief view of 
 some faults, not uncommon, as to management of countenance 
 and attitude, in a speaker. 
 
 The eye is the only part of the face, that it falls within my 
 design to notice here, both because this is the chief seat of 
 expression, and because its significance is especially liable to 
 be frustrated by mismanagement. The intercourse of soul, 
 between speaker and hearers, is carried on more unequivo- 
 cally through the eye, than in any other way. But if he 
 neglects to look at them, and they in return neglect, (as they 
 commonly will,) to look at him ; the mutual reaction of feel- 
 ing through the countenance is lost ; and vocal language is 
 all the medium of intercourse that remains. 
 
 The eye " bent on vacuity," as the artists call it, is the 
 next most common defect, of this sort. The glass eye 
 of a wax figure at once tells its own character. There 
 may be, in other respects, the proportion and complexion 
 of a human face ; but that eye, the moment it is examined, 
 you perceive is nothing more, and, at best, it can be no- 
 thing more, than a bungling counterfeit. So the eye of a 
 speaker may be open, and yet not see ; at least there may 
 be no discrimination, no meaning in its look. It does not 
 look at any thing. There is in its expression, a generality, 
 a vacuity, so to speak, that expresses nothing. To the 
 same class belongs that indefinite sweep of the eye, which
 
 'S SESTLRE. 
 
 panes from one side to another of an assembly, resting no- 
 where ; and that tremulous, waving cast of the eye, and 
 winking of the eyelid, which is in direct contrast to an open, 
 collected, manly expression of the face. 
 
 So fatal are these faults to the impression of delivery, that 
 too much care cannot be taken to avoid them. 
 
 Altitude, I use, not iu the theatrical sense of the word, 
 (for this has no concern with oratory,) but as denoting the 
 general positions of the body, which Are becoming or other- 
 wise, in a speaker. In some few instances, I have observed 
 the head to be kept so erect, as to give the air of haughti- 
 ness. In others, it is dropped so low, that the man seems to 
 be carelessly surveying his own person. In others, it is re- 
 clined towards one shoulder, so as to give the appearance of 
 languor or indolence. 
 
 As to the degree of motion that is proper for {he body, it 
 may be safely said, that while the fixedness of a post is an 
 extreme, all violent tossing of the body from side to side, 
 rising on the toes, or writhing of the shoulders and limbs, are 
 not less unseemly. 
 
 The remarks which come next to be made on ytslure, are 
 more various. 
 
 One principal fault which I have noticed in this, is want 
 of appropriateness. By this I mean that it is not sufficiently 
 adapted to circumstances. An address to an assembly of 
 common men, admits a boldness of action that would be un- 
 seemly in one deliwml to a prince. 
 
 More vivacity and variety is admissible. in the action of 
 a young speaker, than of one who is aged ; and the same 
 boldness of manner which is proper when the orator is 
 kindled to a glowing fervor, in the close of a disc 
 would be out of place at its commencem the same 
 
 <1 by some speakers, in the exordium, as in the 
 conclusion; in cool aryunn-nt to tlu- umi. -\ Man.lni^. as in 
 appeal* to the henrt. Gnorl rn<> will Imd n
 
 GESTURE. 00 
 
 man, as Quintilian says, " To act as well as to speak in a dif- 
 ferent manner, to different persons, at different times, and on 
 different subjects." 
 
 Nearly of the same class is another kind of faults, arising 
 from want of discrimination. Of this sort is that puerile 
 imitation which consists in acting words, instead of thoughts. 
 The declaimer can never utter the word heart, without lay- 
 ing his hand on his breast ; nor speak of God or heaven, in 
 the most incidental manner, without directing his eye, and 
 his gesture upwards. Let the same principle be carried out, 
 in repeating the prophet's description of true fasting : 
 "It is not for a man to bow down his head as a bulrush, 
 &c," and every one would see that, to conform the gesture 
 to the words, is but childish mimicry. 
 
 There is no case in which this want of discrimination 
 oftener occurs, than in a class of words denoting sometimes 
 numerical, and sometimes local extent, accompanied by the 
 spreading of both hands ; the significance of this gesture 
 being destroyed by misapplication. The following examples 
 may illustrate my meaning. 
 
 Exam,. 1 . " The goodness of God is the source of all our 
 blessings." The declaimer, when he-utters the word God, 
 raises his eye and his right hand ; and when he utters the 
 word all, extends both hands. Now the latter action con- 
 founds two things, that are very distinct, number and space. 
 When I recount all the blessings of my life, they are very 
 many, but why should I spread my hands, to denote a mul- 
 tiplicity that is merely numerical and successive ? when the 
 thought has no concern with local dimensions, any more than 
 in this case : " All the days -of Methusaleh were nine hun- 
 dred and sixty-nine years." 
 
 Exam. 2. All the actions of our lives, will be brought into 
 judgment." Here again, the thought is that of arithmetical 
 succession, not of local extent ; and if any gesture is de- 
 manded, it is not the spreading of both hands.
 
 70 
 
 Exam. 3. " I brin_' -A tidings of great joy, which 
 
 shall be to nil peopl-." H-tv the ln-al <-.\t-nt which be- 
 longs to the thought, i- properly expressed by action of both 
 hands. 
 
 If there is language in action, it requires propriety and 
 >n. The indiscriminate movement of the hands sig- 
 nifies nothing. Want of emphasis in tins language is a 
 great, but common fault. When the speaker, however, 
 has an emphatic stroke of the hand, its effect is lost, if that 
 stroke does not accompany the emphasis of the voice ; that 
 is, if it falls one syllable after the stress of voice, or if it 
 is disproportionate in force to that stress, in the same de- 
 gree, its meaning is impaired. The direction of the hand, 
 too, in which the emphatic stroke terminates, is significant. 
 The elevated termination suits high passion ; the horison- 
 tal, decision; the downward, disapprobation. And any of 
 these may denote definitive designation of particular ob- 
 jects. 
 
 Another fault of action is excess. In some cases it is too 
 constant. To enter on a discourse with passionate exclama- 
 iiid high-wrought figures, while the speaker and audi- 
 dience are both cool, is not more absurd than to begin with 
 continual gesticulation. No man probably e\-r carried the 
 language of action to so high a pi: nioft Yet Dr. 
 
 Gregory says of this great dramatic speaker, " He us.-d lr-s 
 action than any performer I ever saw ; but his action always 
 had meaning ; it always spoke. By being less than that of 
 other a-tors. it had (he greater force." But if constant ac- 
 tion has too much ! :i for the stage, what shall wo 
 , say of that man's taste, who, in speaking on a sub 
 serious importance, can scarcely utter a sentence without 
 extending his hands ? '*."* 
 
 Kenelon says, " Som-' tiini- ;ico, I happened to fall -asleep at a 
 ermun ; and when I awaked, the preacher wan in a 
 agitation, BO that I funnel at first, he wa prewing ome important
 
 GESTURE. 71 
 
 But gesture may be not merely too much ; it may be 
 too violent. Such are the habits of some men, that they 
 can never raise the hand, without stretching the arm at 
 full length above the head, or in a horizontal sweep ; or 
 drawing it back, as if in the attitude of prostrating some 
 giant at a stroke. But such a man seems to forget that 
 gentleness, and tranquillity, and dignity, are attributes that 
 prevail more than violence, in real oratory. The full 
 stroke of the hand, with extended arm, should be reserved 
 for its own appropriate occasions. For common purposes, 
 a smaller movement is sufficient, and even more expressive. 
 The meaning of a gesture depends not on its compass. The 
 tap of Caesar's finger, was enough to awe a Senate. 
 
 Gesture is often too complex. When there is want of pre- 
 cision, in the intellectual habits of the speaker, he adopts 
 perhaps two or three gestures for one thought. ' In this way 
 all simplicity is sacrificed ; for though the idea is complex, 
 an attempt to exhibit each shade of meaning, by the hand, 
 is ridiculous. After one principal stroke, every appendage 
 to this, commonly weakens its effect. 
 
 Another fault is too great uniformity. Like periodic tones 
 and stress of voice, the same gesture recurring constantly, 
 shows want of discriminating taste. " In all things," says 
 Cicero, " repetition is the parent of satiety." 
 
 This barren sameness usually prevails, in a man's manner, 
 just in proportion as it is ungraceful. Suppose, for example, 
 that he is "accustomed to raise his arm by a motion from the 
 shoulder, without bending the elbow ; or that the elbow is 
 bent to a right angle, and thrust outward ; or that it is 
 
 point of morality. But he was only giving notice, that on the Sunday 
 following, he would preach upon repentance. I was extremely sur- 
 prised to hear so indifferent a thing uttered with so much vehemence. 
 The motion of the arm is proper, when the orator is very vehement ; 
 but he ought not to move his arm in order to appear vehement. Nay, 
 there are many things that ought to be pronounced calmly, and without 
 any motion."
 
 72 OMTUEB. 
 
 drawn close to the side, so that the action is confined to the 
 lower part of the arm and hand ; or that the hand is drawn 
 to the left, by bending the wrist so far as to give the ap- 
 pearance of constraint, or backwards so far as to contract the 
 thumb and fingers ; in nil these cases, the motion is at once 
 stiff and unvaried. 
 
 The same thing is commonly true of all short, abrupt, and 
 jerking movements. These remind you of the dry limb of a 
 tree forced into short and rigid vibrations by the wind ; and 
 not of the luxuriant branch of the willow, gently and vari- 
 ously waving before the breeze. The action of the graceful 
 speaker is easy and flowing, as well as forcible. His hand 
 describes curve lines, rather than right or acute angles ; and 
 when its office is finished, in any case, it drops gently down 
 at his side, instead of being snatched away, as from the bite 
 of a reptile. The action of young children is never deficient 
 in grace or variety ; because it is not vitiated by diffidence, 
 affectation, or habit. 
 
 There is one more class of faults, which seems to arise 
 from an attempt to shun such as I have just described, and 
 which I cannot better designate, than by the phrase me- 
 chanical variety. 
 
 This is analogous to that variety of tones, which is pro- 
 duced by an effort to be various, without regard to sense. 
 The diversity of notes, like those of the chiming clock, re- 
 turns periodically, but is always the same diversity. So a 
 speaker may have several gestures, which he repeats al- 
 ways in the same successive order. The most common 
 form of this artificial variety consists, in the alternate use 
 of the right hand and the left. I, have seen a preacher, 
 who aimed to avoid sameness of action, in the course of 
 a few sentences, extend first his right hand, then 1. 
 and then both. This order was continued through the 
 discourse ; so that these three gestures, whatever might
 
 CE3TURE. 73 
 
 be the sentiment, returned, with nearly periodical exactness. 
 Now whatever variety is attained in this way, is at best but a 
 uniform variety ; and is the more disgusting, in proportion as 
 it is the more studied and artificial. 
 
 But the question arises, does thi& charge always lie against 
 the use of the left hand alone? I answer, by no means. 
 The almost universal precepts, however, in the institutes of 
 oratory, giving precedence to the right hand, are not without 
 reason. It has been said, indeed, that the confinement of 
 the left hand in holding up the robe, was originally the 
 ground of this preference ; and that this is a reason which 
 does not exist in modern times. But how did it happen that 
 this service, denoting inferiority, came to be assigned to the 
 left, rather than the right hand ? Doubtless because this 
 accords with a general usage of men, through all time. 
 When Joseph brought his two sons to be blessed by Jacob, 
 the patriarch signified which was the object of special bene- 
 diction, by placing the right hand on his head, and the left 
 on the head of the other. As a token of respect to his 
 mother, Solomon gave her a seat on the right hand of his 
 throne. In the same manner the righteous will- be distinguish- 
 ed from the wicked, in the final judgment. Throughout the 
 Bible, the right hand is spoken of as the emblem of honor, 
 strength, authority, or victory. 
 
 The common act of salutation is expressed by the right 
 hand ; and hence its name dextra, from SB %O[MI to take, that 
 is, by the hand ; and hence, by figure, the English word dex- 
 trous, denoting skill and agility. General custom has always 
 given preference to the right hand, when only one is used, 
 in the common offices of life. The sword of the warrior, the 
 knife of the surgical operator, the pen of the author, belong 
 to this hand. With us, to call a man left handed is to call 
 him awkwardj and it is a curious fact that the Sandwich 
 Islanders use the same phrase to denote ignorance or unskill- 
 fulness. To give the left hand in salutation, de/ tes a fainil- 
 
 4
 
 74 UEriTUHK. 
 
 iarity and levity, never offered to a superior. To employ 
 this in taking an oath, or in giving what is called the " riyht 
 hand of fellowship," as a religious act, would be deemed 
 rusticity or irreverent trifling. 
 
 Now so long as this general usage exists, without inquir- 
 ing here into its origin, it is manifest that the left hand can 
 never, without incongruity, assume precedence over the 
 right, so as to perform alone the principal gesture, with th 
 few exceptions mentioned below. To raise this hand, for 
 example, as expressing authority ; or to lay it on the breast, 
 in an appeal to conscience, would be likely to excite a smile. 
 Though it often acts with great significance, in conjunction with 
 the right hand, the only cases, that I recollect, where it can 
 with propriety act alone, in the principal gesture. ;ire these: 
 
 First, when the left hand is spoken of in contradistinction 
 from the right ; " He shall set the sheep on his right hand, 
 but the goats on his left." Secondly, when there is local 
 allusion to some object on the left of the speaker. For ex- 
 ample, if his face is to the north, and he points to the setting 
 sun, it is better perhaps to do it with his left hand, than to 
 turn his body, so as to make it convenient to do it with his 
 right. Thirdly, when two things are contrasted, though 
 without local allusion, if the case requires, that the one be 
 marked by the action of the right hand, it is often best to 
 mark the antithetic object with the left. 
 
 But I would not magnify, by dwelling on it, a question of 
 so small moment. It would have been dispatched in a sen- 
 tence or two, had it not seemed proper to show, that what 
 some are disposed to call an arbitrary and ground 
 
 ( ain-ient rhetoric, has its foundation in a general and 
 ;< live feeling of propriety. Still I would say, that when 
 a departure from this precept results, not from affectation, 
 but from emotion, it is far better than any minute observ- 
 ance of propriety, which arise* from a coldly correct and 
 artificial habit.
 
 GESTURE. 75 
 
 In finishing this chapter, the general remark may be 
 made, as applying to action, and indeed to the whole sub- 
 ject of delivery, that many smaller blemishes are scarcely 
 observed in a speaker, who is deeply interested in his sub- 
 ject; while the affectation of excellence, is never excused 
 by judicious hearers. To be a first rate orator, requires a 
 combination of powers which few men possess : and no 
 means of cultivation can ever confer these highest requisites 
 for eloquence, on public speakers generally. But neither 
 is it necessary to eminent usefulness, that these > requisites 
 should be possessed by all. Any man, who has good sense, 
 and a warm heart, if his faculties for elocution are not 
 essentially defective, and if he is patient and faithful in the 
 discipline of these faculties, may render himself an agreeable 
 and impressive speaker.
 
 EXERCISES 
 
 PART I. 
 
 PREPARATORY REMARKS. 
 
 THE selections in Part I., of these Exercises, are designed 
 especially to exemplify the principles of rhetorical delivery, 
 as laid down in the foregoing pages. These principles 
 are the same as those contained in my ANALYSIS, only 
 thrown into a more brief and simple form, for a younger 
 class of readers, than were contemplated in that work. I 
 see no reason to change the original plan, of giving one series 
 of exercises, with a rhetorical notation, throughout ; and 
 another series of miscellaneous pieces in which such a nota- 
 tion is but partially applied. 
 
 These Exercises of the first part, are much the same as 
 those of the ANALYSIS, chiefly because the examples were 
 selected, with great expense of time, from the whole com- 
 pass of English literature ; and because it is not easy to 
 make another selection, so well adapted to the various prin- 
 ciples to be illustrated. 
 
 In using the Exercises of Part I., the student may be as- 
 listed by the following remarks. 
 
 1. At the head of each exercise, on the left hand, the page 
 is noted, where the prinriplt; is contained, which the exam- 
 ples are intended to illustrate. 
 
 2. Under the several heads, a r/n'i>-tr<tl notation, ac- 
 cording to the Key given at the beginning, is so applied aa
 
 PREPARATORY REMARKS. 77 
 
 to designate inflection, emjjhasis, and towards the close, 
 modulation. When emphatic stress is but moderate, it is 
 often distinguished only by the mark of inflection ; when the 
 stress amounts to decided emphasis, it is denoted by the 
 Italic type; and sometimes, when strongly intensive, by 
 small capitals. In examples taken from the Scriptures, Italic 
 words are used, not as in the English Bible, but solely to 
 express emphasis. 
 
 3. In applying a rhetorical notation so as most fully to 
 exhibit sentiment and emotion, there is often room for diver- 
 sity of taste. Any amendments, in this respect, which may 
 be suggested by Teachers or others, will be gratefully re- 
 ceived. 
 
 4. They who use these Exercises should be aware that 
 examples, which apply exclusively to a single principle of 
 elocution, are commonly very short. When longer ones are 
 chosen, including other principles, besides the one especially 
 in view, it will still be apparent from the notation, what is 
 the point chitfly to be regarded. 
 
 5. Before attempting to read any Exercise, the principle 
 intended to be illustrated should be well examined by the 
 pupil. Especially under the head of Modulation, no example 
 expressive of passion, should be read without being studied 
 beforehand.
 
 EXERCISES ON ARTICULATION. 
 
 i:\i:unsK i. 
 
 Page 24. ])ifficult artirulation from, immediate succession 
 
 sounds. 
 
 1. The youth hatw stw\\. 
 
 2. The wild beasts */raggled through the vale. 
 
 3. The steadfa*/ stranger through the fores/* */rayed. 
 
 4. It was the fines/ */reet of the city. 
 
 5. When Ajaar drives some rock's vast weight to throw. 
 
 6. It was the severe*/ storm of (he season, but the mas/* 
 stood through the gale. 
 
 7. That laste /ill night. ) 
 That last still night. $ 
 
 8. He can debate on either side of tin- (ju<-stion. ) 
 He can debate on ther side of the question. $ 
 
 9. Who ever imagined such on ocean to exist? 
 Who ever imagined such a notion to exist? 
 
 Page 25. Difficult succession of consonant* with remote accent. 
 
 1 . He has taken leave of terrestrial trials and enjoyments, 
 and is laid in the grave, the common receptacle and home of 
 mortals. 
 
 2. Tliough this barbarous chief received us very oonr* 
 teously, and spoke to us very comnnuucatii'ely at the ; 
 interview, we soon lost our confidence in the disinterestednes* 
 of his in i.t. 
 
 8. Though there could be no doubt as to the rtaionable- 
 ness of our request, yet he saw fit peremptorily to refuse it, 
 and authoritatinli/ t<> n-<|uir<- that we should depart from the 
 country. As no alternative was left us, we 
 prepared to obey this arbitrary manda 
 
 EXERCISES ON IM-l.KCTION. 
 
 Page 29. The i ring inflection before, 
 
 and t/ r 
 
 1. Then said Jesus unto thorn, I will nsk you one thing.
 
 Ex. 2.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 79 
 
 Is it lawful on the sabbath-days to do good, or to do evil ? 
 to save life or to destroy it ? 
 
 2. Whether we are hurt by a mad or a blind man,' the 
 pain is still the same. And with regard to those who are 
 undone, it avails little whether it be by a man who deceives 
 them, or by one who is himself deceived. 
 
 3. Has God forsaken the works of his own hands ? or 
 does he always graciously preserve, and keep, and guide 
 them ? 
 
 4. Therefore, O ye judges ! you are now to consider, 
 whether it is more probable that the deceased was murder- 
 ed by the man who inherits his estate, or by him, who in- 
 herits nothing but beggary by the same death. By the man 
 who was raised from penury to plenty, or by him who was 
 brought from happiness to misery. By him whom the lust 
 of lucre has indamed with the most inveterate hatred against 
 his own relations ; or by him whose life was such, that he 
 never knew what gain was, but from the product of his own 
 labors. By him, who of all dealers in the trade of blood, 
 was the most audacious ; or by him who was so little ac- 
 customed to the forum and trials, that he dreads not only 
 the benches of a court, but the very town. In short, ye 
 judges, what I think most to this point is, you are to con- 
 sider whether it is most likely that an enemy, or a son, would 
 be guilty of this murder. 
 
 5. As for the particular occasion of these (charity) 
 schools, there cannot any offer, more worthy a generous 
 mind. Would you do a handsome thing without return ? 
 do it for an infant that is not sensible of the obligation.* 
 Would you do it for the public good ? do it for one who 
 will be an honest artificer. Would you do it for the sake 
 of heaven ? give it for one who shall be instructed in the 
 worship of Him, for whose sake you gave it. 
 
 EXERCISE 3 
 
 Page 29. The direct question, or that which admits the 
 
 answers yes or no, has the rising inflection, and the 
 
 answer has the falling. 
 
 1. Will 'the Lord cast off forever, and will he be fa- 
 vorable no more ? Is his mercy clean gone forever ? doth 
 
 * Disjunctive or is understood.
 
 *' [Hx. 3. 
 
 his promise fail for ' Hath God forgotten to be 
 
 gracious? Iiath he in anger shut up his tender mercies? 
 
 J. Is n<>t this the carjient' is not his n: 
 
 called y -tlip-n, James, and Ju>- 
 
 mon, and Judas ? and hi- .re they not all with 
 
 :i. Are we intended for actors in the grand drama of 
 eternity? Are we candidates for the plaudit of the rational 
 creation ? formed to participate the supreme be- 
 
 atitude in communicating happiness? Are we destined to 
 co-operate with God in advancing the order and perfect 
 his works ? How sublime a creature then is man ! 
 
 The following art ixamples of both question and answer. 
 
 4. Who are the persons that are most apt to fall into 
 peevishness and dejection that are continually complain- 
 ing of the world, and see nothing but wretchedness around 
 them ? Are they those whom want compels to toil for their 
 daily bread ? who have no treasure but the labor of their 
 
 who rise, with the rising sun, to expose thorn 
 to all the rigors of the seasons, unsheltered from the win- 
 ter's cold, and unshaded from the summer's heat ? Nd. The 
 labors of such are the very blessings of their condition. 
 
 5. What, then, what was Caesar's object ? Do we se- 
 lect extortioners, to enforce the laws of equity ? Do we 
 make choice of profligates, to guard the morals of s<> 
 
 Do we depute atheists, to preside over the rites of relfgion ? 
 I will not press the answer : 1 need not press the answer ; 
 the premises of my argument render it unnecessary. - 
 would content you? Talent? No! Knierpr 
 Coiinr. .tiim? Nd ! Virtue? No! The 
 
 men whom you would select, should possess, not one, hut 
 all, of these. 
 
 6. Can the truth be discovered when the slaves of 
 prosecutor are brought as witnesses against the person 
 accused? L-t us hear now what kind of an examination 
 this was. Call in RUM-JO : Call in Casca. Did Clodius 
 wayla; lie did: I)r.iL,' them instantly to execution. 
 He did not : Let them have their liberty. What can be 
 mor. 
 
 .<-iioti> that your t - may 
 
 i-lv (o
 
 Ex.3, 4.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 81 
 
 es might excite ? Let them not minister to pride, but adorn 
 them with humility. 'There is not an evil incident to hu- 
 man nature for which the Gospel doth not provide a remedy. 
 Are you ignorant of many things which it highly concerns 
 you to know ? The Gospel offers you instruction. Have 
 you deviated from the path of duty ? The Gospel offers you 
 forgiveness. Do temptations surround you ? The Gospel 
 offers you the *aid of heaven. Are you exposed to misery ? 
 It consoles you. Are you subject to death ? It offers you 
 immortality. 
 
 Page 29, Note 1. When (or) is used conjunctively, it has 
 the same inflection before and after it. 
 
 In some sentences the disjunctive and the conjunctive use of or 
 are so intermingled as to require careful attention to distinguish them. 
 
 1. Canst thou bind the unicorn with his .band in the 
 furrow ? or will he harrow the valleys after thee ? Wilt 
 thou trust him because his strength is great ? or wilt thou 
 leave thy labor to him ? Gavest thou the goodly wings 
 unto the peacocks ? or wings and feathers unto the ostrich ? 
 Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook ? or his tongue 
 with a cord which thou lettest down ? Canst thou put a 
 hook into his nose ? or bore his jaw through with a thorn ? 
 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird ? or wilt thou bind 
 him for thy maidens ? Canst thou fill his skin with barbed 
 irons ? or his head with fish spears ? 
 
 2. But should these credulous infidels after all be in 
 the right, and this pretended revelation be all a fable ; from 
 believing it what harm could ensue ? would it render 
 princes more tyrannical, or subjects more ungovernable, the 
 rich more insolent, or the poor more disorderly ? Would 
 it make worse parents or children, husbands, or wives ; 
 masters, or servants, friends, or neighbors ? or* would it 
 not make men more virtuous, and r consequently, more happy, 
 in every situation ? 
 
 EXERCISE 4. 
 
 Page 30. Negation opposed to affirmation. 
 1. True charity is not a meteor, which occasionally 
 
 * The last or is disjunctive. 
 4*
 
 82 I.XERCIHE9 ON INFLECTION. [K\. 4, 5. 
 
 glares ; but a luminary, which, in its orderly and regular 
 
 .-us''- :i benignant influence. 
 
 _'. 'I'liink nut. that the influence of devotion is confined to 
 tiif r,-iii,-:ii--nt of the closet, and the assemblies of the saints. 
 Imagine not, that, unconnected with the duties of life, it is 
 suited only to those emaptun d -mils, whose feelings, per- 
 haps, yii deride as romantic and visionary. It is the guar- 
 dian of innocence it is the instrument of \irtue it is a 
 means by which every good affection may be formed and im- 
 proved. 
 
 ' 8. Caesar, who would not wait the conclusion of the con- 
 sul's speech, generously replied, that he came into Italy not 
 to injure the liberties of Rome and its citi/ens, but to restore 
 them. 
 
 4. If any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, 
 Jesus Christ the righteous: and lie is the propitiation for 
 our sins ; and^ not for 6urx only, but also for tl : the 
 whole wdrld. 
 
 5. These things I say now, not to insult one who is 
 fallen, but to render more secure those who stand ; not to ir- 
 ritate the hearts of the wounded, but to preserve those, who 
 are not yet wounded, in sound health ; not to submerge him 
 who is tossed on the billows, but to instruct those sailing be- 
 fore a propitious bn-e/.e, that they may not be plunged be- 
 neath the waves. 
 
 G.' Hut this is np 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 compassion and kindness. 
 
 Comparison and contrast belong to the tame head. 
 
 1. By honor and dishonor, by evil report and good re- 
 port; as i }'? true ; a- unknown, and yet well 
 known ; as dv'ing, and behold we live; as cb.i-ten.-d and not 
 killed ; as sorrowful. \<- snak- 
 ing many rich: as having nothing, and \et p..>-es>ing all 
 things. 
 
 Be y<' not unequally yoked together \\ith unbelievers; for 
 what -ip hath righteousness with unrighteousneM? 
 
 and what communion hath light with darkness '.' and what 
 concord hath Christ with Belial? or what part hath he that 
 believclh with an infidel ?
 
 lix. 5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 83 
 
 A wise man feareth, and departeth from evil ; but the 
 fool rageth, and is confident. The wicked is driven away 
 in his wickedness ; but the righteous hath hope in his 
 death. Righteousness exalteth a nation ; but sin is a re- 
 proach to any people. The king's favor is toward a wise 
 servant ; but his wrath is against him that causeth shame. 
 
 2. Between fame and true honor a distinction is to be 
 made. The former is a blind and noisy applause : the lat- 
 ter a more silent and internal homage. Fame floats on the 
 breath of the multitude : honor rests on the judgment of the 
 thinking. Fame may gire praise, while it withholds esteem ; 
 true honor implies esteem, mingled with respect. The one 
 regards particular distinguished talents : the other looks up- 
 on the whole character. 
 
 3. Europe was one great field of battle, where the weak 
 struggled for freedom, and the strong for dominion. The 
 king was without power, and the nobles without principle. 
 They were tyrants at home, and robbers abroad. Nothing 
 remained to be a check upon ferocity and violence. 
 
 4. The power of delicacy is chiefly seen in discerning 
 the true merit of a work ; the power of correctness, in re- 
 jecting false pretensions to merit. Delicacy leans more to 
 feeling ; correctness more to reason and judgment. The 
 former is more the gift of nature ; the latter, more the prod- 
 uct of culture and art. Among the ancient critics, Lon- 
 ginus possessed most delicacy ; Aristotle, most correctness. 
 Among the moderns, Mr. Addison is a high example of 
 delicate taste ; Dean Swift, had he written on the subject of 
 criticism, would perhaps have afforded the example of a cor- 
 rect one. 
 
 5. Homer was the greater genius ; Virgil, the better 
 artist ; in the one, we most admire the man ; in the other, 
 the work. Homer hurries us with a commanding im- 
 petuosity ; Virgil leads us with an attractive majesty. Ho- 
 mer scatters with a generous profusion ; Virgil bestows 
 with a careful magnificence. Homer, like the Nile, pours 
 out his riches with a sudden overflow ; Virgil, like a river 
 in its banks, with a constant stream. And when we look 
 upon their machines, Homer seems, like his own Jupiter in 
 his terrors, shaking Olympus, scattering tho. lightnings, and 
 firing the heavens ; Virgil, like the same power in his be- 
 nevolence, counseling with the gods, laying plans for em- 
 pires, and ordering his whole creation.
 
 KXCBCI8E8 ON INFLECTION. [llx. 4, 5. 
 
 '>. Uryden kn< n in his Lr.-nend nature. and 
 
 Pope in his local manners. The in>ti>n> <-t I>ryden 
 formed by comprehci. n. tli>,. of Pope by mi- 
 
 101]. 
 
 is and \ uried ; that of 
 Pope is cautious and uniform. l>rydn ol..-ys tin- motions 
 
 own mind ; Pope constrains his mind t his own 
 rules of composition. l>rvdn is sometimes vehement and 
 rapid ; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle. Dry- 
 
 page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, and 
 diversified by the varied exuberance of abundant vegtt 
 Pope's is a \elvet l.iwn. .-hav.-n liy tli.- .-\th-. and leveled by 
 the roller. 
 
 If the flights of Dryden are higher. Tope continues 
 longer on the wing. If of Dryd.-n'> tin-, the blaze is 
 
 r; of Pope's the heat is more regu; i stank 
 
 Dryden often surpasses expectation, and Pope never falls 
 beldw it. Drydrn is read with frequent astonishment, and 
 Pope with perpetual delight. 
 
 7. .\i-\i-r before were so many opposing interests, pas- 
 sions, and principles, committed to such a decision. On 
 
 'ie an attachment to the ancient ord--r of things, on 
 
 iier a passionate desire of change; a wish in some to 
 in others to i!'--tn>v <-\. TV thing ; every abuse 
 sacred in t :ner, every foundation attempt- 
 
 ed to be demolished by tli- t j-;ilou.y of power 
 
 skrinking IV nnovation, pretensions to free- 
 
 dom | madness and anarchy; superstition in all 
 
 its dotage, impiety in all its fury. 
 
 ' of iitxjiension r<f/iiires ; slidt. 
 
 Sereral kind* of ^ntenci are claMed undrr thi* rul-. in thf body of 
 the work ; but ag the principle is the MOM in nil. no Jixtin.-tion it nc- 
 in thr Kxcrcue*. 
 
 1. 1 '>! if (Jod s; the angels that sinned, but, 
 
 cast them down to hell, and d. in into chain- 
 darkness, to l>e reserveil unt<- 
 
 !. but sa^ i^lith person, a pn- 
 
 er of .Mie.ss. biiiiL'ini; in tljp flod ujmn the world of 
 
 the ungodly: and turning ; - "dom and (iomor- 
 rah into nshw. condemned them with an overthrow. m.;>
 
 Ex. 5.] KXERCISE3 ON INFLECTION. 85 
 
 them an ensample unto those that after should live ungodly ; 
 And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of 
 the wicked : (For that righteous man dwelling among them, in 
 seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous soul from day to day 
 with their unlawful deeds ;) The Lord knoweth how to de- 
 liver the godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust 
 unto the day of judgment to be punished. 
 
 2. If reason teaches the learned, necessity the barbarian, 
 common custom all nations in general ; and if even nature 
 itself instructs the brutes to defend their bodies, limbs, and 
 lives, when attacked, by all possible methods ; you cannot 
 pronounce this action criminal, without determining at the 
 same time that whoever falls into the hands of a highway- 
 man, must of necessity perish either by his sword or your 
 decisions. Had Milo been of this opinion, he would cer- 
 tainly have chosen to fall by the hands of Clodius, who had 
 more than once, before this, made an attempt upon his life, 
 rather than be executed by your order, because he had not 
 tamely yielded himself a viclim to his rage. But if none 
 of you are of this opinion, the proper question is not whether 
 Clodius was killed ? for that we grant : but whether justly 
 or unjustly ? an inquiry of which many precedents are to be 
 found. 
 
 3. Seeing then that the soul has many different faculties, 
 or, in other words, many different ways of acting ; that it 
 can be intensely pleased or made happy by all these differ- 
 ent faculties, or ways of acting ; that it may be endowed 
 with several latent faculties, which it is not at present in a 
 condition to exert ; that we cannot believe the soul is en- 
 dowed with any faculty which is of no use to it ; that when- 
 ever any one of these faculties is transcend ently pleased, 
 the soul is in a state of happiness ; and in the last place, 
 considering that the happiness of another world is to be the 
 happiness of the whole man ; who can question but that 
 there is an infinite variety in those pleasures we are speak- 
 ing of; and that this fullness of joy will be made up of all 
 those pleasures which the nature of the soul is capable of 
 receiving ? 
 
 4. When the gay and smiling aspect of things has be- 
 gun to leave the passages to a man's heart thus thoughtlessly 
 unguarded ; when kind and caressing looks of every object 
 without, that can flatter his senses, has conspired with the 
 enemy within, to betray him and put him off' his defense:
 
 M5 K\J.I: I- i .- "\ i\n.i:cTio\. [E 
 
 when music like\\i>e hath lent her aid, and tried her power 
 upon tin- passions; when il ,f sinking men, and the 
 
 ing women, with the sound of the viol and 
 lute. ha\e broken in upon his soul, and in some U-: 
 notes have touched the sen - i rapture, that 
 
 ment let us dissect and look into his In-art; see how % 
 how weak, how empty a tiling it i> '. 
 
 5. Besides the ignorance of masters who teach th-- 
 rudiments of reading, and the want of skill, or negligence in 
 that article, of those who teach the learned languages; be- 
 sides the erroneous manner, which the untutored pupils fall 
 into, through the want of early attention in masters, to cor- 
 rect small faults in the beginning, which increase and gain 
 strength with years; besides bad habits contracted from imi- 
 tation of particular persons, or the contagion of exan. 
 from a general prevalence of a certain tone or chant in read- 
 ing or reciting, peculiar to each school, and regularly trans- 
 mitted, from one generation of boys to another : besides all 
 the>e, which are fruitful sources of vicious elocution, there is 
 one fundamental error, in the method universally used in 
 teaching to read, which at tir>t ijives a wrong bias, and leads 
 us ever after blindfold from the ri^ht path, under the guid- 
 ance of a false rule. 
 
 6. A guilty or a discontented mind, a mind, ruffled by 
 ill fortune, disconcerted by its own passions, soured In I 
 
 or fretting at disappointments, hath not I 
 attend to tin- or reasonableness of a kindness 
 
 sfred, or a taste for those pleasures which wait <>n U-m-ti- 
 cence, which demand a calm and unpolluted heart to relish 
 
 tlH-tll. 
 
 7. " 1 p. rfe.-tly remember, that when Calidius prose- 
 cuted Q. (iallius for at. him, and pretend- 
 ed that he had (1 
 
 many letters, witues.se-;, in; \idence 
 
 to put the truth of l.eyon.i 
 
 many sensible and - remarks .n the nature of tin.- 
 
 crime; I remember," says i that when it came to 
 
 my turn to reply to him, after ui .imeiit wi 
 
 suggested, I ii. <:\ it a.s a 
 
 -Lance in favor of .r, while 
 
 iiarg-d him with a de-i^n a_ life, and 
 
 us that he had the in llun in 
 
 his 1 ;ted Ins >>toiv v.itli - ise. and
 
 Ex. 5.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 87 
 
 calmness and indifference, as if nothing had happened." 
 " Would it have been possible," exclaimed Cicero, (ad- 
 dressing himself to Calidius,) " that you should speak with 
 this air of unconcern, unless the charge was purely an in- 
 vention of your own ? and, above all, that you, whose elo- 
 quence has often vindicated the wrongs of other people 
 with so much spirit, should speak so coolly of a crime which 
 threatened your life '?" 
 
 8. To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own hearts 
 and characters, to restrain every irregular inclination, to 
 subdue every rebellious passion, to purify the motives of 
 our conduct, to form ourselves to that temperance which 
 no pleasure can seduce, to that meekness which no prov- 
 ocation can ruffle, to that patience which no affliction 
 can overwhelm, and that integrity which no interest can 
 shake ; this is the task which is assigned to us, a task 
 which cannot be performed without the utmost diligence and 
 care. 
 
 9. The beauty of a plain, the greatness of a mountain, 
 the ornaments of a building, the expression of a picture, the 
 composition of a discourse, the conduct of a third person, 
 the proportion of different quantities and numbers, the va- 
 rious appearances which the great machine of the universe is 
 perpetually exhibiting, the secret wheels and springs which 
 produce them, all the general subjects of science and taste, 
 are what we and our companions regard as having no pecul- 
 iar relation-to either of us. 
 
 10. Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, 
 
 Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne, 
 
 View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, 
 
 And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise ; 
 5 Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, 
 
 And, without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ; 
 
 Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 
 
 Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike ; 
 
 Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, 
 10 A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend ; 
 
 Dreading even fools, by Flatterers besieg'd, 
 
 And so obliging, that he ne'er oblig'd ; 
 
 Like Cato, give his little senate laws, 
 
 And sit attentive to his own applause ; 
 15 While Wits and Templars every sentence raise, 
 
 And wonder with a foolish face of prafse
 
 KCI8E9 ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 5, 0. 
 
 Who but imM laugh, if such a man there be? 
 would not weep, if ATTICTS were he! 
 
 1 1 . For these reasons, the senate and people of Athens, 
 (with due veneration to the gods and heroes, and guardians 
 >f tin- Athenian city and territory, whose aid they now im- 
 plore ; and with due attention to the virtue of their ances- 
 tors, to whom the general liberty of Greece was ever dearer 
 than the particular interest of their own state, ) have resolved 
 that a fleet of two hundred vessels shall be sent to sea, the 
 admiral to cruise within the straits of Thermopylae. 
 
 As to my own abilities in speaking, (for I shall admit 
 this charge, although experience hath convinced me, that 
 what is called the power of eloquence depends for th- 
 part upon the hearers, and that the characters of public 
 speakers are determined by that degree of favor whi 
 \ourhsafe to each,) if long practice, I say, hath given iw 
 any proBciency in speaking, you have ever found it devoted 
 i my country.* 
 
 Of the various exceptions which fall under the rule of suspending 
 injlection, the only one which needs additional exemplification, j* 
 that, where emphasis requir -. th-- mt' n*i\<- fil!m_' *}\.\>-. t,. 
 the true sense, s !! -13. Irksome cases of this sort, tin 
 
 omission of the fulling slide only weakens the meaning; in other* it 
 
 1. If the population of this country were to remain sta- 
 tionary, a great increase of effort would be necessary to 
 supply each family with a Bible ; how much more when this 
 population is increasing every day. 
 
 J. The man who a strong ambition for prefer- 
 
 ment, if he does not fall int- n and servilid/, i-> in 
 
 danger of losing all manly independence. 
 
 3. For if tin- mi^htv wm-ks which have been done in thee 
 had been done in 6Wom,f it would i 1 unto 
 
 this day. 
 
 KXIWISE 6. 
 
 Page 32. Tender emotion inrlinr* th? r> isiny ilidt. 
 
 1. And when Joseph came home they brought him the 
 
 I have not thought it necessary to give examples of the cases in 
 which emphasis requires the fulling slide at the close of a parenthesis. 
 
 t Kren in Sod^m, is the paraphrase of this emphasis, and so in the 
 two preceding examples
 
 Ex. 6.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 89 
 
 present which was in their hand, into the house, and bowed 
 themselves to him, to the earth. And lie asked them of 
 their welfare, and said, Is your father well, the old man of 
 whom ye spake ? Is he yet alive ? And they answered, 
 Thy servant Qur father is in good health, he is yet alive : 
 and they bowed down thejr heads, and made obeisance.- 
 And he lifted up his eyes, and saw his brother Benjamin, 
 his mother's son, and said, Is this your younger brother, of 
 whom ye spake unto me ? And he said, God be gracious 
 unto thee, my son. And Joseph made haste ; for his bowels 
 did yearn upon his brother : and he sought where to weep ; 
 and he entered into his chamber, and wept there. 
 
 2. Methinks I see a fair and lovely child, 
 Sitting compos'd upon his mother's knee, 
 And reading with a low and lisping voice 
 Some passage from the Sabbath ;* while the tears 
 5 Stand in his little eye so softly blue, 
 
 Till, quite o'ercome with pity, his white arms 
 He twines around her neck, and hides his sighs 
 Most infantine, within her gladden'd breast, 
 Like a sweet lamb, half sportive, half afraid, 
 
 10 Nestling one moment 'neath its bleating dam. 
 And now the happy mother kisses oft 
 The tender-hearted child, lays down the book, 
 And asks him if he doth remember still 
 A stranger, who once gave"liim, long ago, 
 
 1 5 A parting kiss, and blest his laughing eyes ! 
 His sobs speak fond remembrance, and he weeps 
 To think so kind and good a man should die. 
 
 3. Ye who have anxiously and fondly watched 
 Beside_a fading friend, xinconscious that 
 The cheek's bright crimson, lovely to the view, 
 Like nightshade with unwholesome beauty bloomed, 
 5 And that the sufferer's bright dilated eye, 
 Like mouldering wood, owes to decay alone 
 Its wondrous lustre : ye who still have hoped, 
 Even in death's dread presence, but at length 
 Have heard the summons, (O heart-freezing call !) 
 
 * Sabbath, a poem.
 
 90 KXEBCIsr.b ON IV FLECTION. [Ej. 0, 7. 
 
 10 To pay th- Uities, and to ; 
 
 ;i tin- silent dwelling's narrow lid 
 Th<- tir.-t earth thrown, Nound deadliest to the Boul ! 
 
 r, strange delur-ion ! then, and then al<>: 
 Iliijn- -e.-ms fi'ivv.T tied, and tin: dread pang 
 i linal separation to begin) 
 
 It all thi> O pay my verse 
 The mournful in. -i-d of -\mpathy, and ..wn, 
 Own with a sigh, the sombre picture's just. 
 
 Page 33. The ind and its answer have the 
 
 falliu'i it 
 
 The interrogative mark is h /. to n-ml'-r it significant of 
 
 iU office, in ilwtinction from the direct question, which turns the voice 
 upward. 
 
 1. The governor ans\vi-n-d and said unto them, Whether 
 
 of the twain will y- that 1 n-leas.- unto yi.u ,. Tlicy said, 
 I.ar.dilias. Pilate said untu tlu-rn, ^'hat shall 1 do then 
 with Jesus, which is calk-d C'hrist^ Th-y all say unto him, 
 Let him be crucified. And the governor said, Why ,-, what 
 evil hath he done ^ But they cried out the more, saying, 
 Let him be crOciti.-d. 
 
 J. Wh'-n- n<.\v i-; th-- splendid robe of the cdnsu 
 Wh.-n' an- the brilliant torches ;. When- an- the aj.; 
 and dunces, the feasts and entert&inments i When nc the 
 coronets and canopies^ Where the huxzns of the city, tin- 
 compliments of tin- circn<, and the flattering acclamations of 
 itore^, All the-e ha\c {.erished. 
 
 3. 1 hold it to be an unquestionable position, that they 
 who duly appreciate the blessings of liberty, revolt as much 
 from the iii i^in^, as fn-in that of enduring, oppn- 
 
 sion. How far this was the case with the Romans, you may 
 inquire of th"se nations that surrounded them. Ask them, 
 What iiiMilent guard pai ites, and i 
 
 ed their strong-holds,,' They will im^\\er. 'A Unman le 
 gionary.' I -What -,n :tioner fat- 
 
 tened by ti 1 r!othe<l him-elf by their i 
 
 DOSS * They will inform JTOO, 'A U'-man t^uaesidr.' In- 
 (|uire i.f them. ' What imperious stranger issued to them his
 
 Ex. 7.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 91 
 
 mandates of imprisonment or confiscation, of banishment or 
 death They will reply to you, ' A Roman Consul.' Ques- 
 tion them, ' What haughty conqueror led through his city, 
 their nobles and kings in chains ; and exhibited their coun- 
 trymen, by thousands, in gladiators' shows, for the amuse- 
 ment of his fellow citizens They will tell you : ' A Ro- 
 man General.' Require of them, ' What tyrants imposed 
 the heaviest yoke i enforced the most rigorous exactions 
 inflicted the most savage punishments, and showed the 
 greatest gust for blood and torture They will exclaim to 
 you, ' The Roman people.' 
 
 4. Let us now consider the principal point, whether the 
 place where they encountered was most favorable to Milo^ 
 or to Clodius. Were the affair to be represented only by 
 painting, instead of being expressed by words, it would even 
 then clearly appear which was the traitor, and which was 
 free from all mischievous designs. When the one was sit- 
 ting in his chariot, muffled up in his cloak, and his wife 
 along with him ; which of these circumstances was not a 
 very great incumbrance the dress, the chariot, or the com- 
 panion How could he be worse equipped for engagement, 
 when he was wrapt up in a cloak, embarrassed with a char- 
 iot, and almost fettered by his wife Observe the other now, 
 in the first place, sallying out on a sudden from his seat ; for 
 what reason in the evening ; what urged him late ; to 
 what purpose, especially at that season <, He calls at Pom- 
 pey's seat : with what view To see Pompey ? He knew 
 he was at Alsium. To see his house ? He had been in it 
 a thousand times What then could be the reason of this 
 loitering and shifting about He wanted to be upon the 
 spot when Milo came up. 
 
 5. Wherefore cease we then 
 Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, 
 Reserved, and destin'd to eternal woe ; 
 Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 
 5 What can we suffer worse ;, Is this then worst, 
 Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms ? 
 What ! when we fled amain, pursued and struck 
 With heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought 
 The deep to shelter us this Hell then seem'd 
 10 A refuge from those wounds : or when we lay
 
 KXEK I I \rt.Lfi [Kx. 7, 8. 
 
 Chain'd :\ th- burning lake, that sure was worse. 
 What, it" tin- breath, that kindled those grim fires, 
 Awak'd, should blow them into sev'nfold rage, 
 And plunge u- in tin- tlarnes ;, or from above 
 - .ould intermitted \rngeam-e ana again 
 Hi> ml right-hand to pl.i^ue u^ '.' what if all 
 Her stores were open'd, and this firmament 
 Of Hell should snout her cataracts of tin-, 
 Impendent horrors, threat'ning hideous fall 
 
 20 One day upon our heads ; while we perhaps, 
 Designing or exhorting glorious war, 
 Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurl'd, 
 Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey 
 Of wracking whirlwinds; or forever sunk 
 
 25 Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains; 
 There to converse with everlasting groans, 
 Unrespited, unpitied, unreprfev'd, 
 Ages of hopeless end ! This would be worse. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 6. But, first, whom shall we send 
 In search of the new world ~ b whom shall we find 
 Sufficient i who shall tempt with wand'ring feet 
 The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss, 
 5 And through the palpable obscure find out 
 His uncouth way, and spread his airy flight, 
 Upborne with indefatigable wings, 
 Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive 
 The happy isle what strength, what art can then 
 
 10 Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 
 
 Through the strict senteries and stations thick 
 Of Angels watching round ^ Here he had need 
 All circumspection, and we now no less 
 Choice in our suffrage ; for on whom we send, 
 
 15 The weight of all, and our last hope, relies. Milton. 
 
 FAI'RCISE 8. 
 
 Page 34. Language of u> of surprise, and of du- 
 
 trett, common ? the fulling inflection. Denun- 
 
 ciation, reprehension, <kc., come under thit head. 
 
 1. Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; ron-idT her way*, and
 
 Ex. 8.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 93 
 
 be wise : which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, pro- 
 videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food ia 
 the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, sluggard ? when 
 wilt thou arise out of thy sleep ? Yet a little sleep, a little 
 slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep : So shall thy 
 poverty come as one that travaileth, and thy want as an arm- 
 ed man. 
 
 2. And when the king came in to see the guests, he saw 
 there a man that had not on a wedding-garment : And he 
 saith unto him, Friend, how earnest thou in hither, not having 
 a wedding-garment ? And he was speechless. Then said 
 the king to the servants, Bind him, hand and foot, and take 
 him away, and cast him into outer darkness : there shall be 
 weeping and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 3. Then he which had received the one talent came, and 
 said, Lord, I knew thee, that thou art a hard man, reap- 
 ing where thou hast not sown, and gathering where thou 
 hast not strewed : And I was afraid, and went and hid thy 
 talent in the earth : lo, there thou hast that is thine. His 
 lord answered and said unto him, Thou wicked and slothful 
 servant, thou kne west that I reap where I sowed not,* and 
 gather where I have not strewed : Thou oughtest therefore 
 to have put my money to the exchangers, and then at my 
 coming I should have received mine own with usury. Take 
 therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which 
 hath ten talents. And cast ye the unprofitable servant into 
 outer darkness : there shall be weeping and gnashing of 
 teeth. 
 
 4. Then began he to upbraid the cities wherein most of 
 his mighty works were done, because they repented not. 
 Wo unto thee, Chorazin ! wo unto thee, Bethsaida ! for if 
 the mighty works which were done in you, had been done 
 in Tyre and Sidon,f they would have repented long ago in 
 sackcloth and ashes. But I say unto you, It shall be more 
 tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgment than 
 for you. And thou Capernaum, which art exalted unto 
 heaven, shall be brought down to hell : for if the mighty 
 works which have been done in thee, had been done in 
 
 * This clause uttered with a high note and the falling slide, expresses 
 censure better with the common punctuation, than if it were marked 
 with the interrogation. 
 
 f Even in Tyre and Sulon, is4he paraphrase of the emphasis.
 
 .) I ( Kx. 8. 
 
 Sodom, it would have remained until tin's day. But I say 
 nnto you, That it shall be more tolerable for the land of 
 Sodom in the day of judgment, th;m for thee. 
 
 5. Such, sir, was once tin- > of a people, who 
 
 now surround your throne \\ith reproaches and complaints. 
 Do justice to yourself. Banish from your mind those un- 
 worthy opinions, with which some intere.-ted persons have 
 labored to posse-s \u. intrust the nn-n who tell you 
 that the Knulish are naturally li^lit and inconstant ; that 
 mplain without a cadse. Withdraw your confidence 
 equally from all parties ; from ministers, favorites, and rela- 
 tions ; and let there be one moment in your life, in which 
 you have consulted your own understanding. 
 
 0. You have dune that, you should be sorry for. 
 
 There is no terror, Ca~iu>. in your threats ;_ 
 
 For I am arm'd so strong in lion. 
 
 That they pass by me as the idle wind, 
 'uich I respect not. 1 did send to }<>u 
 
 For certain sum> of gold, which you denied me 
 
 For I can raise no money by \ile inc.. 
 
 1 had rather coin my 1.- 
 
 And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring 
 10 From the hard hands of peasants their vile trasn 
 
 By any indirection. I did send 
 
 To you for gold to pay my legions, 
 
 "Which you denied m- : : done like Cassiut* 
 
 Should / have answered C'aius Cassius so? 
 15 When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, 
 
 To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 
 
 * p. _"ds, with^ill your thunderb<~ 
 
 Dash him to pie< yxare. 
 
 7. The war, that for a spare did fail, 
 Now trebly thundering swell'd the gale, 
 
 And Stanley .' was the cry; 
 . A light on Marmion's visage spread, 
 And fired his glazing eye : 
 
 The reader will otacrvr, thnt the notation U more various, as the 
 rxamples become longer, including man variety of rhetorical
 
 Ex. 8.] EXERCISES OX INFLECTION. 95 
 
 With dying hand, above his head, . 
 He shook the fragment of his blade, 
 
 And shouted " Victory ! 
 Charge, Chester, charge! on, Stanley, onf" 
 Were the last words of Marmion ! 
 
 8. So judge thou still, presumptuous ! till the wrath 
 Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight, 
 Sev'nfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell, 
 Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain 
 5 Can equal anger infinite provok'd. 
 
 But wherefore thou alone ? wherefore with thee 
 Came not all ffdll broke loose ? is pain to them 
 Less pain, less to be fled ? or thou than they 
 Less hardy to endure ? Courageous Chief ! 
 10 The first in flight from pain t hadst thou alleged 
 To thy deserted host this cause of flight, 
 Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 9. To whom the warrior Angel soon replied. 
 
 To say, and straight unsay, pretending first 
 
 Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, 
 
 Argues no leader, but a liar, trac'd, 
 5 Satan ! and couldst thou faithful add ? name, 
 
 O sacred name of faithfulness profan'd ! 
 
 Faithful to whom ? to thy rebellious crew ? 
 
 Army of Fiends ! fit body to fit head ! 
 
 Was this your discipline and faith engag'd, 
 10 Your military obedience, to dissolve 
 
 Allegiance to th' acknowledg'd Pow'r supreme ? 
 
 And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem 
 
 Patron of liberty, who more than thou 
 
 Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilely ador'd 
 15 Heav'n's awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hope 
 
 To dispossess him, and thyself to reign. 
 
 But mark what I areed thee now ; A vaunt : 
 
 Fly thither whence thou fled'st : if from this hour, 
 
 Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, 
 20 Back to th' infernal pit I drag thee chained. 
 
 And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn 
 
 The facile gates of Hell, too slightly barr'd. Milton.
 
 96 KXKRCltJE* ON IN: [Ex.8. 
 
 Apostrophe and exclamation, an well a* the imperative mode when 
 accompanied by emphauia, incline the voice to the falling inflection. 
 
 10. Oh ! deep-enchanting prelude to repose, 
 
 The dawn of bliss, the twilight of our woes ! 
 
 Yet half I hear the panting spirit sigh, 
 
 It is a dread and awful thing to die ! 
 5 Mysterious worlds ! untravel'd by the sun, 
 
 Where Time's far wandering tide hits never run, 
 
 From your unfathom'd shades, and viewless spheres, 
 
 A warning comes, unheard by other ears 
 
 'Tis heaven's commanding trumpet, long and loud, 
 10 Like Sinai's thunder, pealing frum the cloud ! 
 Daughter of Faith, awake ! arise ' illume 
 
 The dread unknown, the i-h.t->s >f the tomb ! 
 
 Melt, and dispel, ye spectre doubts, that roll 
 
 Cimmerian darkness on the parting soul ! 
 15 Fty, like the moon-e\ <! In-mid of dismay, 
 
 Chased on his night-steed, by the star of day! 
 
 The strife is o'er! the pangs of nature close, 
 
 And life's last rupture triumphs o'er her woes ! 
 
 11. irk! as the spirit eyes, with t-agle gaze, 
 20 The noon of heaven, undaz/led by the blaze, 
 
 On heavenly winds that waft her l" : 
 
 Float the sweet tax lx>rn melody; 
 
 Wild ;LS the hallow'd anthem sent to hail 
 
 Bethlehem's shepherds in the lonely > 
 25 When Jordan hush'd lu> waves, anil midnight still 
 
 Watch'd on the holv towers uf Zi<m hill ! 
 
 Cornell. 
 
 11. Piety has found 
 
 Is in the Friends of science, and true prayer 
 Has flow'd from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
 Such was thy VWKNB, Xewton, child-like sage! 
 5 Sagacious reader of the Works of God, 
 And in his Word sagacious. Such too tl. 
 Milton, who- .' wings, 
 
 And fed on manna. And such thhie, in whom 
 Our / :(] with just cause, 
 
 10 Immortal //<//< .' for deep discern m cut prais'd, 
 And sound integrity, not more, than fam'd 
 For sanctity of manners undefil'd.
 
 x. 8.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 97 
 
 12. These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, 
 Almighty, thine this universal frame, 
 Thus wond'rous fair ; thyself how wond'rous then ! 
 Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heav'ns 
 5 To us invisible, or dimly seen 
 
 In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine. 
 Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
 Angels ; for ye behold him, and with songs 
 
 10 And choral symphonies, day without night, 
 Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in Heaven, 
 On earth, join all ye creatures to extol 
 Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 
 Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, 
 
 15 If better thou belong not to the dawn, 
 
 Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn 
 With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, 
 While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 
 Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul, 
 
 20 Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise 
 In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, 
 And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall 'si. 
 Moon, that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fly'st, 
 With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, 
 
 25 And ye five pther wand'ring Fires, that move 
 In mystic dance, not without song, resound 
 His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. 
 Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth 
 Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 
 
 30 Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix, 
 
 And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change 
 Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
 His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, 
 Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, 
 
 35 "W ith every plant, in sign of worship, wave. 
 Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, 
 Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune his praise. 
 Join voices all, ye living Souls ; ye Birds, 
 That singing, up to Heaven's gate ascend, 
 
 40 Bear on your wings, and in your notes his praise. 
 
 Milton.
 
 98 EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. [Ex. 9. 
 
 Page 85. Emphatic succession of particulars requires the 
 
 f a I liny Si 
 
 Notes 1 and 2, page 35, should be examined before reading this claM of 
 Exercue*. 
 
 ' 1. He answered and said unto them. He that soweth the 
 good seed is the Son ..i' man ; the field is the world; the 
 good seed are the children of the kingdom: but the tares 
 are the children of the wicked one ; the enemy that sowed 
 them is the dovil ; the harvest is the end of the world ; and 
 the reapers are the ang< 
 
 2. For to one is given by thf Spirit the word of wisdom ; 
 to another, the word of knowledge, by the same Spirit; 
 to another, faith, by the same Spirit ; to another, the gifts 
 of healing, by the .same Spirit ; to another, the working 
 of miracles ; to another, prophecy ; to another, discerning 
 of spirits; to another, divers kinds of tongues; to another, 
 the interpretation of ton_ 
 
 3. Holiness is ascribed to tin- 1'ope ; majesty. to kings; 
 serenity, or mildness of temper, to prmr. .-nce, or 
 perfection, to ambassadors; grace, to archbishops; honor, 
 to peers; worship, or venerable behavior, to magi 
 
 and reverence, which is of the >ame import as the former, to 
 the inferior clergy. 
 
 4. It pleases me to think that I, who know so small a 
 portion of the works of the Creator, and with .slow and 
 painful steps, creep up and down on the surface of this 
 globe, shall, ere long, shoot away with the swiftness of im- 
 agination ; trace out the hidden springs of nature's opera- 
 tions ; be able to keep pace with tin- heavenly bodies in the 
 rapidity of their career ; be a spectator of the long chain 
 of events in the, natural and moral worlds; visit the several 
 apartments of creation; know how they are furm-hed and 
 how inhabited ; comprehend (he order and measure, the 
 magnitude and di>tain-e- of tl.o-e orbs, which, to us, seem 
 disposed without any refill; md set all in the same 
 circle; observe the dependeOM !' the pan* <( each system; 
 and (if our minds are |,j_r riiou;.: ihe theory of the 
 several system^ upon , in whence results the 
 
 : the Unix- 
 
 6. He who cannot perv.iade himself to withdraw from 
 society, must be content to pay a tribute of his time to a
 
 Ex. 9, 10.] EXERCISES ON INFLECTION. 99 
 
 multitude of tyrants ; to the loiterer, who makes appoint- 
 ments he never keeps to the consulter, who asks advice 
 he never takes to the boaster, who blusters only to be 
 praised to the complainer, who whines only to be pitied 
 to the projector, whose happiness is only to entertain his 
 friends with expectations, which all but himself know to be 
 vain to the economist, who tells of bargains and settle- 
 ments to the politician, who predicts the fate of battles and 
 breach of alliances to the usurer, who compares the differ- 
 ent funds and to the talker, who talks only because he loves 
 talking. 
 
 6. That a man, to whom he was, in great measure, be- 
 holden for his crown, and even for his life ! a man to whom, 
 by every honor and favor, he had endeavored to express 
 his gratitude ; whose brother, the earl of Derby, Avas his own 
 father-in-law ; to whom he had even committed the trust of 
 his person, by creating him lord chamberlain ; that a man 
 enjoying his full confidence and affection ; not actuated by 
 any motive of discontent or apprehension ; that this man 
 should engage in a conspiracy against him, he deemed abso- 
 lutely false and incredible. 
 
 7. I would fain ask one of those bigoted infidels, suppos- 
 ing all the great points of atheism, as the casual or eternal 
 formation of the world, the materiality of a thinking sub- 
 stance, the mortality of the soul, the fortuitous organization 
 of the body, the motion and gravitation of matter, with the 
 like particulars, were laid together, and formed into a kind 
 of creed, according to the opinions of the most celebrated 
 atheists ; I say, supposing such a creed as this were formed 
 and imposed upon any one people in the world, whether it 
 would not require an infinitely greater measure of faith, than 
 any set of articles tthich they so violently oppose. 
 
 EXERCISE 7. 
 
 Page 36. Emphatic repetition requires the falling inflection, ; 
 
 though the principle of the suspending slide, or of it& 
 
 interrogative, may form an exception. 
 
 1. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the 
 knife to slay his son. And the angel of the LORD called 
 unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, ABRAHAM. 
 And he said, Here am I.
 
 100 EXERCISES ON IMI.Kc [F,X. 10. 
 
 2. And the kin:: was much moved, and went up to th 
 chamber over the gate, and wept : and as he went, thus he 
 Raid, O my son Absalom! my Mm, my son Absalom! 
 would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my 
 son! 
 
 3. O Jerusalem, Jerutalem ! thou that kille.st the pro- 
 phets and stonest thrin wliicli are sent unto thee 1 how often 
 would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen 
 gathereth her chickens under her wings, and yu would not? 
 
 4. But the subject is too awful for irony. I will speak 
 plainly and directly. Newton was a Christian ! Newton, 
 whose mind burst forth from the fetters cast by nature upon 
 our finite conceptions. Ntwton, whose science was truth, 
 and the foundation of whose knowledge of it was philoso- 
 phy : not those vi.-ionary and arrogant presumptions, which 
 too often usurp its name, but philosophy resting upon the 
 basis of mathematics, which, like figures, cannot lie. N^to- 
 ton, who carried the line and rule to the utmost barriers of 
 creation, and explored the principles by which, no doubt, all 
 created matter is held together and exists. 
 
 5. To die, they say, is noble as a soldier 
 But with such guides, to point th' unerring road, 
 Such able guides, such arms and discipline 
 As I have had, my soul would sorely feel 
 ~> The dreadful pang which keen reflect 
 
 Should she it) death's dark porch, while life was ebbing, 
 Receive the judgment, and this vile reproach :- - 
 " Long bast thou wander'd in a si md. 
 
 A stranger to tin .-elf and to thy God ; 
 
 10 The heavenly hills were oft within tUy view, 
 And oft the shepherd call'd thee to his flock, 
 And call'd in vain. A thousand monitors 
 Bade thee retOrn, and walk in wisdom's ways. 
 The seasons, as they roll'd, bade thee return ; 
 
 15 The glorious sun, in his diurnal round, 
 
 I Vh, -Id thy wand'ring. and bade rn ; 
 
 i emblem of the night of death, 
 Bade thee return ; the ri-ing mounds, 
 Which told tl. re the dead repose 
 
 20 In tenemcnU of clay, bade thee return . 
 And at thy father's grave, the filial t<
 
 Ex. 10, 11.] EXERCISES OIV EMPHASIS. 101 
 
 Which dear remembrance gave, bade thee return, 
 And dwell in Virtue's tents, on Zion's hill ! 
 Here thy career be stay'd, rebellious man ! 
 25 Long hast thou liv'd a cumberer of the ground. 
 Millions are shipwreck'd on life's stormy coast, 
 With all their charts on board, and powerful aid, 
 Because their lofty pride disdain'd to learn 
 Th' instructions of a pilot, and a God." 
 
 On Cadence, Circumflex, and Accent, no additional illustra- 
 tions seem to be required in tlie Exercises. 
 
 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 
 
 It was necessary in the rules to examine and exemplify the 
 difference between emphatic stress, and emphatic inflection, 
 and also between absolute and relative stress. The exam- 
 ples, however, illustrating these distinctions, must generally 
 be taken from single sentences and clauses. But as I wish 
 here to introduce such passages as have considerable length, 
 I have concluded to arrange t/tem all under the general 
 head of EMPHASIS, leaving the reader to class particular 
 instances of stress, and inflection, according to the princi- 
 ples laid down page 39 to 47. 
 
 EXERCISE 11. 
 
 1. He that planted the ear, shall he not hear? he that 
 formed the eye, shall he not sie? he that chastiseth the 
 heathen, shall not he correct? he that teacheth man knowl- 
 edge, shall not he know ? 
 
 2. The queen of the south shall rise up in the judgment 
 with the men of this generation, and condemn them : for she 
 came from the utmost parts of the earth, to hear the wisdom 
 of Solomon ; and behold, a greater than Solomon is here. 
 The men of Nineveh shall rise up in the judgment with this 
 generation, and shall condemn it ; for they repented at 
 the preaching of Jonas ; and behold, a greater than Jonas is 
 here. 
 
 3. But when the Pharisees heard it, they said, This 
 fellow doth not cast out devils, but by Bedhebub, the prince 
 of the devils. 2. And Jesus knew their thoughts, and said 
 unto them, Every kingdom divided against itself, is brought 
 to desolation ; and every city or hduse divided against iteSlf
 
 102 EXERCIM M.MIVSIS. [Ex. 11. 
 
 shall not stand. 3. And; ; an, ht is divided 
 
 against himself; how shall then his kingdom stand? And 
 if I by Beelzebub cast out devils, Jiy whom do your children 
 cast them out? therefore they BMU be your judges. But if 
 least out d'-vi!- liy the Sjiir;- 'iirn tin- kingdom of 
 
 God i- u. 4. < >i else how ' ;m one enter into ;i 
 
 iiul -|...|! !<; In- first bind 
 
 the strong man ? and then he will spoil his house. 
 
 4. And behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted 
 him, saying. M i-;. r. ui.it -luili I do to inherit eternal 
 life? 2. He said unto him. What is written in the law? 
 how readest thou? 3. And he answering said, Thou shalt 
 
 he Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
 soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind ; and 
 thy neighbor as thyself. 4. And he said unto him, Thou 
 hast answered right : this do, and thou shalt live. But he, 
 willing to justify himself, said unto Jesus, And who it my 
 neighbor? 5. And Jesus answering, said, A certain man 
 went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, 
 which stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and 
 departed, leaving him half dead. 6. And by chance there 
 came down a certain priest that way ; and when he saw 
 him, he passed by on the other side. And likewise a Li- 
 vite, when he was at the place, came and looked on him, 
 and passed by on the other side. 7. But a certain Samaritan, 
 as he journeyed, came where he was ; and when he saw 
 him, he had compassion on him, and >i?i>t to him, and 
 bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him 
 on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took 
 care of him. 8. And on the morrow, when he departed, 
 he took out two pence, and ^ave them to the host, and said 
 unto him, Take rare of him : and whatsoever thou spendest 
 
 when I come again, I will repay thee. 9. \ 
 now of tl;' thinkest thrtu, was ileiyhbor unto him 
 
 that fell among the thieve-'.' And he vnd. He ;h.v. showed 
 mtrcy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do th'-u 
 likewise. 
 
 5. For if you now pnn. :t. as my publir conduct 
 h;it Is i -iphon must stand condemi 
 nin^t he thought th.v 
 
 ^resent state i-, the <-;ipti.-,- <>t~ fortune. Hut 
 it cannot W. Jfd, my countrymen f It cannot h 
 hare acted wrong, in encountering danger bravely, for tin-
 
 Ex. 11, 12.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 103 
 
 liberty and safety of all Greece. No ! By those generous 
 souls of ancient times, who were exposed at Marathon ! 
 By those who stood arrayed at Platea ! By those who en- 
 countered the Persian fleet at Sdlamis ! who fought at Ar- 
 temisium! By all those illustrious sons of Athens whose 
 remains lie deposited in the public monuments ! All of 
 whom received the same honorable interment from their 
 country : Not those only who prevailed, not those only who 
 were victorious. And with reason. What was the part of 
 gallant men they all performed ; their success was such as 
 the Supreme Director of the world dispensed to each. 
 
 EXERCISE 12. 
 Like other tyrants, death delights to smite, 
 
 What, smitten, most proclaims the pride of p6w'r, 
 
 And arbitrary nod. His joy supreme, 
 
 To bid the wretch survive the fortunate ; 
 5 The feeble wrap the athletic in his shroud ; 
 
 And weeping fathers build their children's tomb : 
 
 Mt, thine, NARCISSA ! What though short thy date ? 
 
 Virtue, not rolling suns, the mind matures. 
 
 That life is long, which answers life's great &nd. 
 10 The tree that bears no fruit, deserves no name : 
 
 The man of wisdom, is the man of years. 
 
 NARCISSA'S youth has lectur'd me thus far. 
 
 And can her gayety give counsel too ? 
 
 That, like the Jew's fam'd oracle of gems, 
 15 Sparkles instruction ; such as throws new light, 
 
 And opens more the character of death ; 
 
 111 known to thee, LORENZO : This thy vaunt ; 
 
 " Give death his due, the wretched, and the old ; 
 
 " Let him not violate kind nature's laws, 
 20 " But own man born to live as well as die." 
 
 Wretched and old thou givest him ; young and gay 
 
 He takes ; and plunder is a tyrant's joy. 
 * Fortune, with youth and gayety conspir'd 
 
 To weave a triple wreath of happiness, 
 25 (If happiness on earth,) to crown her brow, 
 
 And could death charge through such a shining shield ? 
 
 That shining shield invites the tyrant's spear ; 
 
 As if to damp our elevated aims, 
 
 * In this place, and in many others, the connection of the author ia 
 broken in the selections, without notice.
 
 104 KIKRUSK* ON IkMrHASJB. [Ex. 12, 13. 
 
 And strongly preach humility to man. 
 how portentous is prospei 
 How, comet-likf, it ilr iiile it shines! 
 
 Few years hut yield us proof of death's ambition. 
 6 To cull his victims from the fairest fold, 
 And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life. 
 When llooded with abundance, and purpled o'er 
 With recent honors, bloom'd with every bliss, 
 Set up in ostentation, made the gaze, 
 
 10 The gaudy center, of the pur 
 
 When fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, 
 Snatch'd from the covert of an humble state, 
 How often have I seen him drdpp'd at once, 
 Our morning's 6nvy ! and our ev'ning's sigh ! 
 
 16 Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow ; 
 A blow, which, while i: . alarms; 
 
 And startles thousands with a single fall. 
 ( ) As when some st&tely growth of oak or pine, 
 Which nods aloft and proudly spreads her si 
 
 20 The sun's defiance, and the flock s defense ; 
 By the strong strdkes of lab'rinrr hinds subdu'd 
 Loud groans ner last, and rushing from her height, 
 In cumb'rous ruin, thunder to the ground : 
 The conscious forest trembles at the shock, 
 
 ii5 And hill, and stream, and distant dale resound.* 
 
 EXERCISE 13. 
 
 Genius and art, ambition's boasted wings, 
 Our boast but ill deserve. - 
 
 -If these alone 
 
 Assist our flight, fame s fight is glory's fall. 
 80 j&arl-merit wanting, mount we ne'er so high, 
 
 Our Illicit is hut tin- gibbet of our name. 
 
 I behold, 
 
 Win n 1 behold a genius, bright, and base, 
 Of towVin^ talfiits, amH'Trotrial aims; 
 35 Methinks :hr>\v*n from her high Bph-r<\ 
 
 us fra^ni' -"ill immortal. 
 
 With rubhi-.li mi.xt, and glittering in the dust. 
 Struck at the splendid, mela ;ht, 
 
 In the following Kxerriatc. thr mnrk* of modulation r* 
 
 ally VIM*!
 
 Ex. 13.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 105 
 
 At once compassion soft, and envy rise 
 
 But wherefore envy ? Talents angel-bright, 
 
 If wanting worth, are shining instruments 
 
 In false ambition's hand, to finish faults 
 6 Illustrious, and give infamy renown. 
 
 Great ill is an achievement of great pdw'rs. 
 
 Plain sense but rarely leads us far astray. 
 
 Means have no merit, if our 2nd amiss. 
 
 Hearts are proprietors of all applause. 
 10 Right ends, and means, make wisdom : Worldly-wise 
 
 Is but hdlf-vtitied, at its highest praise. 
 
 Let genius then despair to make thee great ; 
 
 Nor flatter station : What Is station high ? 
 
 Tis a proud mendicant ; it boasts and begs ; 
 15 It begs an alms of homage from the throng, 
 
 And oft the throng denies its charity. 
 
 Monarchs and ministers, are awful names ; 
 
 Whoever wear them, challenge our devoir. 
 
 Religion, public order, both exact 
 20 External homage, and a supple knee, 
 
 To beings pompously set up, to serve 
 
 The meanest slave ; all more is merit's due, 
 
 Her sacred and inviolable right, 
 
 Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man, 
 25 Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth: 
 
 Nor ever fail of their allegiance there. 
 
 Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, 
 
 And vote the mantle into majesty. 
 
 Let the small savage boast his silver fur ; 
 30 His royal robe unborrow'd and unbought, 
 
 His dwn, descending fairly from his sires. 
 
 Shall man be proud to wear his livery, 
 
 And souls in ermine scorn a soul without ? 
 
 Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize ? 
 35 Pigmies are pigmies still, though perch'd on Xlps ; 
 
 And pyramids are pyramids in vales. 
 
 Each man makes his ozw8tatue, builds himself, 
 
 Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids : 
 
 Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. 
 40 Thy bosom burns for pow'r ; 
 
 What station charms thee ? I'll install thee there ; 
 
 'Tis thine. And art thou greater than before ?
 
 106 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ev 13, 14. 
 
 Then thou before was s 'egg than man. 
 
 Has thv new post betray'd thee into pride? 
 
 That treach'rous pride betrays thy dignity ; 
 
 That pride defames human: ills 
 
 5 The being mean, which stitjf'x or stnn : i* ran raise. 
 
 High icdrth is elevated place >re ; 
 
 It makes the post stand candidate for ; 
 
 Makes more than munarchs, makes an honett mdn ; 
 
 Though no exchequer it commands, 'tis wealth ; 
 19 And though it wears no ribin, 'tis renown : 
 
 Renown, that would not quit thee, though disgrac'd, 
 
 Nor leave thee pendent on a master's smile. 
 
 Other ambition nature inten: 
 
 Nature proclaims it most a I. Mini in man, 
 15 Hy pointing at his origin, and end ; 
 
 Milk, and a swathe, at first his whole demand ; 
 
 His whole domain, at last, a turf, or stone; 
 
 To whom, between, a world may seem too small. 
 
 Young. 
 
 K\I:KCISK \.\. 
 
 Ambition ! pow'rful source of good and ill ! 
 20 Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds, 
 When dbengag'd from earth, with greater ease 
 And swifter flight transports u* to the skies ; 
 By toys entangled, or in guilt bemir'd. 
 It turns a citrte ; it is our chain, and sc.mn 
 25 In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, 
 Close grated by the sordid bars of sense ; 
 All prospect of eternity shut out ; 
 
 !. but for execution, ne'er set free. 
 In spite i if all the truths the muse has sung, 
 30 Ne'er to be pri/'d enough ! enough re\<.l\\l ' 
 
 there who wraji the \\.-rld .-< .lit them, 
 
 They see no farther than the clouds ? and dance 
 On heedless vanity's fantastic toe? 
 Till, stumbling at a straw, in th- i 
 
 35 Headlong they piling, where end both dance and song. 
 \r<- then- on earth, ! call them men,) 
 
 Who lodge a soul immortal n. asts ; 
 
 Conscious as the mountain of its ore ; 
 Or rock, of its inestimable gem? 
 40 When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these
 
 Ex. 14, 15.] EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. 107 
 
 Shall know their treasure ; treasure, then, no more. 
 
 Are there, (still more amazing !) who resist 
 The rising thought ? Who smother, in its birth, 
 The" glorious truth ? Who struggle to be brutes ? 
 5 Who through this bosom-barrier burst their way, 
 And, with revers'd ambition, strive to sink? 
 Who labor downwards, through th' opposing pow'r 
 Of instinct, reason, and the world against them, 
 To dismal hopes, and shelter in the shock 
 
 10 Of endless night? night darker than the graVe's ! 
 Who fight the proofs of immortality ? 
 With horrid zeal, and execrable arts, 
 Work all their energies, level their black fires, 
 To blot from man this attribute divine, 
 
 15 (Than vital blood far dearer to the wise,) 
 
 Blasphemers, and rank atheists to themselves ? 
 
 Young. 
 
 EXERCISE 15. 
 
 He ceas'd ; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, 
 Stood up ; the strongest and fiercest spirit 
 That fought in Heav'n, now fiercer by despair : 
 
 20 His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd 
 Equal in strength, and rather than be less, 
 Cared not to be at all ; with that care lost 
 Went all his fear : of God, or Hell, or worse, 
 He reck'd not, and these words thereafter spake. 
 
 25 " My sentence is for open war ; of wiles, 
 More unexpert, / boast not ; them let those 
 Contrive who need, or when they need not now ; 
 For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
 Millions that stand in arms, and, longing, wait 
 
 30 The signal to ascend, sit lingering here, 
 
 Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling place 
 Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, 
 The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
 By our delay ? No, let us rather choose, 
 
 35 Arm'd with Hell-flames and fury, all at once, 
 O'er Heav'n's high tow'rs to force resistless way, 
 Turning our tortures into horrid arms, 
 Against the Torturer ; when, to meet the noise 
 Of his almighty engine, he shall hear 
 
 40 Infernal thunder, and for lightning see
 
 108 EXERCISER ox EMPHASIS. [Ex. 15 If. 
 
 Black fin and horror, shot with equal rage 
 
 Among lu> Angels anil his throne itself, 
 
 Mix'd wiili Tartan-an sulphur, and strange fire, 
 
 His o\vn invented torments. ( ) But perhaps 
 S The way seems difficult and >: )>, to scale 
 
 With upright wing again>l a higher I 
 
 Let them bethink them, it" the sleepy drench 
 
 Of that forgetful lake la-numb not still, 
 
 That in our proper in- it ion we ascend 
 10 Up to our native seat : descent and /(ill 
 
 To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 
 
 When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear, 
 
 Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, 
 
 With what compulsion and laborious lli^lit 
 15 We sunk thus low ? Th' ascent is easy then. 
 
 Th' iri-/it i> i'ear'd : should we again provoke 
 
 Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 
 
 To our destruction, if there be in Hell 
 
 Fear to be worse destroy'd. What can be worse 
 20 Than to dw<ll It? re, driv'n out from bliss, condemned 
 
 In this abhorred deep to utter woe : 
 
 Wh.-rc pain of inextinguishable fire 
 
 Must cxerci-e u^ without hope of end, 
 
 The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 
 25 Inexorable, and the torturing hour, 
 
 Calls us to penance ? More destroy'd than thu, 
 
 We should be quite abolish 'd, and expire. 
 
 What/"//- \ve tli. 'ii ? what doubt we to incense 
 
 His it! most ire ? which to the height cnrag'd, 
 30 Will either quite consume us, and reduce 
 
 To nothing this essential, (happier far, 
 
 Than miserable, to d being,) 
 
 Or, if our .-ul> indeed d: 
 
 And cannot cease to be, we are at w< 
 35 On this .-ide nothing; and b\ feel 
 
 Our pow'r sufficient to disturb his Heaven, 
 
 And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 
 
 Though iri;i.-re-,>ih! 
 40 Which if not \ .;e." '<>n. 
 
 EXERCISI; 
 
 I should be much fur npn war, O peer* !
 
 Ex. 16, 17.] EXERCISES ON EMPIIASIS. 109 
 
 As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd, 
 Main reason to persuade immediate war, 
 Di^knot rfzssuade me most, and seem to cast 
 Ominous conjecture on the whole success, 
 5 When he, who most excels in feat of arms, 
 In what he counsels, and in what excels, 
 Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair, 
 And utter dissolution as the scope 
 Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 
 
 10 First, what revenge? The tow'rs of Heav'n are fill'd 
 With armed watch, that render all access 
 Impregnable ; oft on the bord'ring deep 
 Encamp their legions, or, with obscure wing, 
 Scout far and wide into the realm of night, 
 
 15 Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way 
 "By force, and at our heels all hell should rise, 
 With blackest insurrection, to confound 
 Heav'n's purest light, yet our great enemy, 
 All incorruptible, would on his throne 
 
 20 Sit unpolluted, and th' ethereal mould, 
 Incapable of stain, would soon expel 
 Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, 
 Victorious. Thus repuls'd our final hope 
 Is flat despair : we must exasperate 
 
 25 Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage, 
 And that must end us, that must be our cure, 
 To be no more : sad cure ; for who would lose, 
 Though full of pain, this intellectual being, 
 Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 
 
 30 To perish rather, svvallow'd up and lost 
 In the wide womb of uncreated night, 
 Devoid of sense and motion ? and who knows, 
 Let this be good, whether our angry foe 
 Can give it, or will ever ? how he can 
 
 35 Is doubtful ; that he never will is sure. Milton. 
 
 EXERCISE 17. 
 Aside the Devil turn'd 
 
 For envy, yet with jealous leer malign 
 Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plain'd. 
 " Sight hateful, sight tormenting ! thus these two 
 40 Imparadis'd in one another's arms, 
 The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill
 
 110 EXERCISES ON EMPHASIS. [Ex. 17, 18. 
 
 Of bliss on bliss ; while I to I It'll am thn. 
 
 \\ii--if ii. i'ii.-r j"\ nor \--\<\ I ait fierce den 
 
 t tin- least,) ^ 
 
 Still unfultill'd, with pain of lon^im: \- 
 5 Yet let me not forget what 1 have gain'd 
 
 From their own mouths : all is not theirs it seems; 
 
 One fatal tree then : knowledge call'd, 
 
 Forbidden them to taste. Knowledge forbidden V 
 10 Suspicious, JIM Why should their Lord 
 
 Knvy them that .' Can it be sin to know ? 
 
 Can it bo death ? and do they only stand 
 
 By ignorance? is that their happy state, 
 
 The pr<>of of their obedience and their faith ? 
 15 O fair foundation laid whereon to build 
 
 Their ruin ! Hem-.- I will excite their minds 
 
 With more de.-ire to know, and to reject 
 
 Envious commands, invented with design 
 
 To keep them low, whom knowledge might exalt 
 20 Equal with Gods : aspirin*.: to he such, 
 
 They taste and die ; w hat likelier can ensue ? 
 
 But fir>t with narrow search 1 must walk round 
 
 This garden, and no corner lea\e un>py'd ; 
 
 A chance, hut chance, may lead where 1 may r 
 25 Some wand'ring spirit of" Heav'n, by fountain side, 
 
 Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw 
 
 What further would be learn'd. Live while ye may, 
 
 Yet happy pair : enjoy, till I return, 
 
 Short ]>'. .r i. ON., WOES . . are to succeed." 
 
 30 () So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, 
 
 But with sly circumspection, and began, 
 
 Through wood, through w hill, o'er dale his 
 
 mam. Milton. 
 
 KXKKMSK 18. 
 Page 27, bottom. 1)1 <f< rente between the common and the m- 
 
 I place thi hm- r.ittx r than im<l. - I, because, intensive slide 
 
 so often stand* romi"-t.<! \\itl. .liifi'-ulty to be avoided 
 
 may be seen nuffirimtlv in nn example or ' is a general tcn- 
 
 ' voice a* great in decrees when there if 
 
 little ttres*, a* when there i unn-h : whrreuR. in the former case, the 
 slide should be gentlr, and sometime* hardly perceptible.
 
 Ex. 18, 19.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. Ill 
 
 Common slide, 
 
 To play with important truths ; to disturb the repose of 
 established tenets ; to subtilize objections ; and elude proof, 
 is too often the sport of youthful vanity, of which maturer 
 experience commonly repents. 
 
 Were the miser's repentance upon the neglect of a good 
 bargain ; his sorrow for being over-reached ; his hope of im- 
 proving a sum ; and his fear of falling into want, directed to 
 their proper objects, they would make so many Christian 
 graces and virtues. 
 
 Intensive slide. 
 
 Consider, I beseech you, what was the part of a faithful 
 citizen ? of a prudent, an active, and an honest minister ? 
 Was he not to secure Eubcea, as our defense against all at- 
 tacks by sea ? Was he not to make Boetia our barrier on 
 the midland side ? The cities bordering on Peloponnesus 
 our bulwark on that quarter ? Was he not to attend with 
 due precaution to the importation of corn, that this trade 
 might be protected, through all its progress, up to our own 
 harbors ? Was he not to cover those districts which we 
 commanded, by seasonable detachments, as the Proconesus, 
 the Chersonesus, and Tenedos ? To exert himself in the 
 assembly for this purpose, while with equal zeal he labored 
 to gain others to our interest and alliance, as Byzantium, 
 Abydus, and Euboea ? Was he not to cut off the best, and 
 most important resources of our enemies, and to supply those 
 in which our country was defective ? And all this you 
 gained by my counsels, and my administration. 
 
 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 
 
 The reader will be able from tLe following examples, to choose those 
 which are appropriate to rotundity of voice, fullness, loudness, time, rhe- 
 torical pavse, &c. 
 
 COMPASS OF VOICE. 
 Page 56. EXERCISE 19. 
 
 To assist in cultivating the bottom of the voice, I have selected exam- 
 ples of sublime or solemn description, which admit of but little inflection; 
 and some which contain the figure of simile. Where the mark for low
 
 I l\i -aXSBOISES ON MODULATION [Ex. !'.. 
 
 note is inserted, the reader will take pains to keep down his voice, and to 
 preserve it in nearly the grave monotone. 
 
 1. ( ) He brewed ill.- heavens also and -Mino down; and 
 darkness was under his feet. And lie rude mum a cherub, 
 and did fly: yea, he flid fly upon the win^s of the wind. 
 He made darkness his secn-t j>lare ; his pa\i!i.>n n\iml about 
 him were dark waters, and thirk c]. lU d> "l" tin- -kies. At 
 the brightness that was before him, his thick clouds passed, 
 hailstones and coals of fire. The LORD also thundered in the 
 heavens, and the highest gave his voice ; hailstones and coals 
 of fire. 
 
 2. ( ) And then shall appear the sign of the Son of Man 
 in heaven ; and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, 
 and they shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of 
 
 :. with power and great glory. And he shall send his 
 angels, with a threat sound of a trumpet, and they shall 
 gather together his elect from the four winds, from one end 
 of heaven to the other. 
 
 3. ( ) And the heaven departed as a scroll, when it is 
 rolled together ; and every mountain and island were moved 
 out of their places. 2. And the kings of the earth, and the 
 great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the 
 mighty men, and every bondman, and every freeman, hid 
 themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains ; 
 and said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us 
 from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the 
 wrath of the Lamb : For the great rfcryof his ura/A is come ; 
 and who shall be able to stand ? 
 
 4. And I saw a great white thrf>ne, and him that sat 
 upon it, from whose face the earth and the heaven tied away; 
 and there was found no place for them. .",. And I saw the 
 dead, small an' -tand before God; and the books 
 were opened: and another book was opened, which is the 
 book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things 
 which were written in the books, according to their \\ork-v 
 i. And the sea gave up the dead whirh were in it ; and death 
 and hell delivered up the dead whirh were in them : and they 
 were judged every man according to their works. 
 
 listening Fear and dumb Amazement all : 
 When t" the .startled rye. the sudden glance 
 Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud: 
 And following slower, in explosion fast,
 
 Ex. 19.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION'. 113 
 
 The Thunder raises his tremendous voice. 
 At first heard solemn o'er the verge of heaven, 
 The tempest growls ; ( ) but as it nearer comes, 
 And rolls its awful burthen on the wind ; 
 5 The lightnings flash a larger curve, and more 
 The noise astounds : till over head a sheet 
 Of livid flame discloses wide; then shuts 
 And opens wider ; shuts and opens, still 
 Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. 
 10 Follows the loosen'd aggravated roar, 
 
 Enlarging, deep'ning, mingling peal on peal 
 Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. 
 
 6. 'Twas then great Marlb'rough's mighty soul was 
 prov'd, 
 
 15 That in the shock of charging hosts unmov'd, 
 Amidst confusion, horror, and despair, 
 Examin'd all the dreadful scenes 1Jf war ; 
 In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, 
 To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid ; 
 
 20 Inspir'd repuls'd battalions to engage, 
 
 And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. 
 ( ) So when an angel, by divine command, 
 With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, 
 (Such as of late o'er pale Brittania past,) 
 
 25 Calm and serene he drives the furious blast ; 
 And pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, 
 Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm. 
 
 7. Rous'd from his trance, he mounts with eyes 
 
 aghast, 
 When o'er the ship, in undulation vast, 
 
 30 A giant surge down rushes from on high, 
 And fore and aft dissever'd ruins lie ; 
 ( ) As when Britannia's empire to maintain, 
 Great Hawke descends in thunder on the main, 
 Around, the brazen voice of battle roarsf, 
 
 35 And fatal lightnings blast the hostile shores ; 
 Beneath the storm their shatter'd navies groan, 
 The trembling deep recoils from zone to zone ; 
 Thus the torn vessel felt the enormous stroke, 
 The beams beneath the thund'ring deluge broke.
 
 Ill K3 ON M'.MI.ATION. [Ex. 19. 
 
 8. To whom, in brief, thus Alxliel stern replied. 
 Reign thuu in //<//, thy l.-t me serve 
 
 In Il< av'n God ever blest, and his divine 
 Behests obey, worthiest v'd ; 
 
 f. Ye* - -1'uiny in Hell, i, Li!<' 
 
 lurn'd us erst thou saulst lriu llight,) 
 Tliis greeting on thy impiou- ,\e. 
 
 ( ) So saying a noble stroke In- lilted high, 
 Which hung i. . with tempest fell 
 
 10 On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, 
 
 Nor motion of swift thoughts, less could his sliield 
 Such ruin intercept ; ten paces huge 
 He back recoil'd ; the tenth on bended knee 
 His massy spear upstay'd ; as if on earth 
 15 Winds under ground, or waters forcing way, 
 Sidelong had pu.sh'd a mountain from his seat, 
 Half sunk with all his pines.- 
 
 Now storming fur}- : 
 
 And clamor sucn as heard in Heav'n till now 
 20 "U ; arms on armor clashing, bray'd 
 
 Horribl. .ind the maddening wheels 
 
 Of brazen chariots rag'd ; dire was the noise 
 Of conflict; over head the di-ma! 
 Of firry darts in flaming vollevs flew, 
 25 And flying, vaulted either host with fire. 
 So under tiery rope together rush'd 
 Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
 And inextinguishable rage ; all Heaven 
 
 >unded ; and had Earth been then, all Earth 
 30 Had to her center shook. 
 
 Long time in e\. 
 
 battle hung : till Satan, who that day 
 Prodigious pow'r had shown, and ui> -t in arms 
 No equal, ranging through the dire attack 
 
 35 Of fighting Seraphim at length 
 
 Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 
 Squa< with huge two-handed sway 
 
 I'.randish'd aloft, the horrid edge came down 
 
 40 \\ ";!< wasting; such d n to withstand 
 
 Ib- halted, mid oppos'd tlie ro.-k\ 
 Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, 
 A vast circumference. At hi- approach 
 The great Archangel from his warlike toil
 
 Ex. 19.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 115 
 
 Surceas'd, and glad, as hoping here to end 
 Intestine war in Heav'n, th' arch-foe subdu'd. 
 Now wav'd their fiery swords, and in the air 
 Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 
 5 Blaz'd opposite, while expectation stood 
 
 In horror ; from each hand with speed retired, 
 Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng, 
 And left large field, unsafe within the wind 
 Of such commotion ; such as, to set forth 
 10 Great things by small, if nature's concord broke, 
 Among the constellations war were sprung, 
 Two planets rushing from aspect malign 
 Of fiercest opposition, in mid-sky, 
 Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound. 
 
 Milton, 
 
 The following examples are selected as a specimen of those passages 
 which are most favorable to the cultivation of a top to the voice. In 
 pronouncing these, the reader should aim to get up his voice to the high- 
 est note on which he can articulate with freedom and distinctness. See 
 remarks, page 57, bottom. If the student wishes for more examples of 
 this kind, he is referred to EXERCISE 5, p. 84. 
 
 9. Has a wise and good God furnished us with desires 
 which have no correspondent objects, and raised expecta- 
 tions in our breasts, with no other view but to disappoint 
 them ? Are we to be forever in search of happiness, with- 
 out arriving at it, either in this world or the next ? Are 
 we formed with a passionate longing for immortality, and 
 yet destined to perish, after this short period of existence ? 
 Are we prompted to the noblest actions, and supported 
 through life, under the severest hardships and most powerful 
 temptations, by the hopes of a reward which is visionary 
 and chimerical, by the expectation of praises, of which* it is 
 utterly impossible for us ever to have the least knowledge 
 or enjoyment ? 
 
 10. () " Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, 
 That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
 Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
 To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass, 
 5 That be assured, without leave ask'd of thee : 
 Retire, or taste thy folly ; and learn by proof, 
 Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of Heav'n."
 
 116 EXERCISE* ON MODULATION. [Ex. 10, 20. 
 
 To whom the goblin full of wrath replied ; 
 () "Art thou that traitor Angel? art tliou he, 
 
 10 Who first brok iv'n and faith, till then 
 
 Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arm- 
 Drew after him the third part of H--;i\ u s sons, 
 Conjur'd against tin- II r which both thou 
 
 And they, outcast from (MM!, an- hrre eondemn'd 
 
 15 To waste eternal days in woe and pain ? 
 
 And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of Hiav'n, 
 Hell-doom 'd, and breath'st detian ...m. 
 
 Where /reign kin^, and, to enrage thee more, 
 Thy king and lord? Back to tliv j/nnishment, 
 
 20 False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, 
 Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
 Thy ling'ring, or with one stroke of this dart, 
 Strange horrors seize thee, and pangs unfelt before."* 
 
 TRANSITION. 
 Page 60. EXERCISE 20. 
 
 The Exercises of the foregoing head were designed to accostom tha 
 voice to exertion on tlir i xtn m<- notes of its compass, high nnd low. 
 The following Exercises under this head are intmdi -d to accustom the 
 voice to those suddm transitions which smtimciit oiVn r> quires, not 
 only as to pilch, but also as to quantity. 
 
 The Power of Eloquence. 
 AX ODE. 
 
 1 HEARD ye those loud contending w.i 
 
 That shook ( Ycrj>ia's pillar'd st.v 
 Saw ye tin- mi^htv frm their graves 
 Look up, and tn-nihl- at her fate? 
 Who shall calm the an^ry storm '.' 
 Who the nullity task (n-rlorm, 
 
 And bid the racing tumult ccn> 
 See the son of Hermes i 
 With siren tongue, and speaking 
 Hush the noiM- and hoothe to pe.. 
 
 2 Lo ! from the regions of the North, 
 
 The reddening storm of battle pours ; 
 Rolls along the trembling earth, 
 Fastens on the Olynthian towers. 
 
 The two prrrrding an goal rxnmplm of thr inlfxfirr, in dikUnrtion 
 from the cam**
 
 Ex. 20.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 117 
 
 3 () " Where rests the sword ? where sleep the brave ? 
 Awake ! Cecropia's ally save 
 
 From the fury of the blast ; 
 Burst the storm on Phocis' walls ; 
 Rise I or Greece forever falls. 
 
 Up ! or Freedom breathes her last !" 
 
 4 ( ) The jarring States, obsequious now, 
 
 View the Patriot's hand on high ; 
 Thunder gathering on his brow, 
 Lightning flashing from his eye. 
 
 5 Borne by the tide of words along, 
 
 One voice, one mind, inspire the throng : 
 
 () " To arms ! to arms ! to arms !" they cry, 
 
 " Grasp the shield and draw the sword, 
 
 Lead us to Philippi's lord, 
 Let us conquer him or die!" 
 
 6 ( ) Ah, Eloquence ! thou wast undone ; 
 
 Wast from thy native country driven, 
 When Tyranny eclipsed the sun, 
 And blotted out the stars of heaven. 
 
 7 When Liberty from Greece withdrew, 
 And o'er the Adriatic flew, 
 
 To where the Tiber pours his urn, 
 She struck the rude Tarpeian rock ; 
 Sparks were kindled by the shock 
 
 Again thy fires began to burn ! 
 
 8 Now, shining forth, thou mad'st compliant 
 
 The Conscript Fathers to thy charms ; 
 Rous'd the world-bestriding giant, 
 Sinking fast in Slavery's arms ! 
 
 9 1 see thee stand by Freedom's fane, 
 Pouring the persuasive strain, 
 
 Giving vast conceptions birth : 
 Hark ! I hear thy thunder's sound, 
 Shake the Forum round and round 
 
 Shake the pillars of the earth ! 
 
 10 First-born of Liberty divine ! 
 
 Put on Religion s bright array ;
 
 118 ITI.ATION. [Ex. 20, 21 
 
 Spt<ik .' and the starless grave shall shine 
 
 The portal of eternal (I 
 
 11 Rise, kindling with tin- orient beam; 
 Let Calvary's /till in.-pire the tin IIK-! 
 
 Unfold the garments roll'd in bl 
 O touch the .souJ, touch all her chords. 
 With all the omnipotence of words, 
 
 And point the way to heaven to God. 
 
 EXERCISE 21. 
 Hohenlinden Description of a Battle with Firc-anm. 
 
 1 ( ) On Linden, when the sun was low, 
 All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
 And dark as winter was the flow 
 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly. 
 
 2 But Linden saw another sight, 
 
 (<) "When the drum b*at at dead of night, 
 Commanding lirrs of death, to light 
 The darkness of her scenery. 
 
 3 By torch and trumpet fast array 'd, 
 Each warrior drew his battle blade, 
 And furious every charger neigh'd, 
 
 To join the dreadful revelry. 
 
 4 (<) Then shook the hills witn" thunder riven, 
 Then rush'd the ste'eds to battle driven, 
 And louder than the bolts of Heaven, 
 
 Far flish'd the red artillery. 
 
 5 And redder y ill 
 
 On Linden's hills of blood-st;iin'd snow; 
 And darker }et shall be the flow 
 Of Iser rolling rapidly. 
 
 6 'Tis morn, bn >n lurid sun 
 Can pierce tin- war-cloud-, rolling dun, 
 While furious Frank and fiery Hun 
 
 Shout in their sulph'roiis canopy. 
 
 7 The combat deepens: () On, ye brave, 
 Who rush to glory, or the grave !
 
 21, 22.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 119 
 
 Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 
 And charge with all thy chivalry ! 
 
 8 ( ) Ah ! few shall part where many meet ! 
 The snow shall be their winding sheet, 
 And every turf beneath their feet 
 
 Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. Campbell. 
 
 EXERCISE 22. 
 Battle of Waterloo. 
 
 1 There was a sound of revelry by night, 
 And Belgium's capital had gather'd then 
 Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright 
 
 The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men : 
 A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when 
 Music arose with its voluptuous swell, 
 Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, 
 And all went merry as a marriage-bell ; 
 ( ) But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a ris- 
 ing knell ! 
 
 2 Did ye not hear it ? No ; 'twas but the wind, 
 Or the car rattling o'er the stony street : 
 
 () On with the dance ! let joy be unconfined ; 
 
 No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet 
 
 To chase the glowing hours with flying feet 
 
 ( ) But, hark ! That heavy sound breaks in once more, 
 
 As if the clouds its echo would repeat. 
 
 And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! 
 
 () Arm ! arm ! it is it is the cannon's opening roar ! 
 
 3 ( ) Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, 
 And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, 
 And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago 
 Blush 'd at the praise of their own loveliness : 
 And there were sudden partings, such as press 
 The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs 
 Which ne'er might be repeated who could guess 
 If ever more should meet, those mutual eyes, 
 
 Since upon night so sweet, such awful morn could rise ? 
 
 4 (=) And there was mounting, in hot haste ; the steed, 
 The mustering squadron, and the clattering car
 
 120 KXEBCI8ES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 22, 23. 
 
 Went pouring f>ruanl with impetuous sp< 
 And swiftly forming in the rank* i war, 
 And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar ; 
 And near, the beat of the alarming drum 
 Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; 
 While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb 
 Or whispering with white lips " The foe! They come. 
 They come !" 
 
 5 (- ) And Ardennes* waves above them her green leaves, 
 Dewey with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, 
 Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, 
 
 Over the unreturning brave, alas ! 
 
 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass, 
 
 Which now beneath them, but above shall grow 
 
 In its next verdure, when the fiery maw 
 
 Of living valor, rolling on the foe, 
 
 And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. 
 
 6 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, 
 Last eve in beaut proudly gay, 
 
 The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, 
 
 The morn, the marshaling in arms, the day, 
 
 Battle's magnificently-stern array ! 
 
 The thunder-clouds closed o'er it, which when rent, 
 
 The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, 
 
 Which her own clay shall cover, ln-ap'd and pent, 
 
 Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent ! 
 
 Byron. 
 
 I.XERCISE 23. 
 Negro 's Complaint. 
 
 1 ( ) Forced from home and all its pleasures, 
 
 Afric's coast I left forlorn ; 
 To increa- 
 
 O'er the raging billows borne. 
 Men from England bought and sold me, 
 
 Paid my price in paltry gold ; 
 But though slave tin -y have enroll'd me, 
 
 Mindt are never to be sold. 
 
 2 Still in thought as free as 
 
 What are England's rights I ask, 
 Me from my delights to sever, 
 Me to lortnrr. me to t<> 
 
 PronmincH in rro wlIMe.
 
 Ex. 23.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 121 
 
 Fleecy locks, and black complexion, 
 
 Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; 
 Skins may differ, but affection 
 
 Dwells in white and black the same. 
 
 3 Why did all-creating nature 
 
 Make the plant for which we toil ? 
 Sighs must fan it, tears must water. 
 
 Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
 Think, ye masters iron-hearted, 
 
 Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
 Think how many backs have smarted 
 
 For the sweets your cane affords. 
 
 4 (8) Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, 
 
 Is there One who reigns on high ? 
 Has he bid you buy and sell us, 
 
 Speaking from his throne the sky ? 
 Ask him, if your knotted scourges, 
 
 Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
 Are the means that duty urges 
 
 Agents of his will to use ? 
 
 5 ( ) Hark ! he answers ; wild tornadoes, 
 
 Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
 Wasting towns, plantations, meadows, 
 
 Are the voice with which he speaks. 
 He, foreseeing what vexations 
 
 Afric's sons should undergo, 
 Fix'd their tyrants' habitations 
 
 Where his WHIRLWINDS answer NO. 
 
 6 By our blood in Afric wasted, 
 
 Ere our necks received the chain ; 
 By the miseries that we tasted, 
 
 Crossing in your barks the main ; 
 By our sufferings since ye brought us 
 
 To the man-degrading mart ; 
 All, sustain'd by patience, taught us 
 
 Only by a broken heart ; 
 
 7 *Deem our nation brutes no longer, 
 
 Till some reason ye shall find 
 
 * Firm voice. 
 6
 
 122 iM'IBEB ON MODULATION. [Kx. iM V.' I. 
 
 Worthier of regard, and stronger 
 
 Than the color of our kind. 
 Slaves of <jol'i, whose sordid dealings 
 
 Tarnish all your boasted powers, 
 Prove that you have human feelings, 
 
 Ere you proudly question uurt 7 Coioptr. 
 
 I;K< isi; 
 
 Marco Bozzaris tht Ejxinitnonda* of Modern Greece. 
 
 [He fell in an attack upon the Turkish Camp, at I.nnpi, the site of 
 the ancient Platen. Auu*t <). 1*^33, and expired in th? moment of ric- 
 tory. HU last words were " To die for liberty is a pleasure, and not 
 a pain."] 
 
 1 At midnight, in hN guarded tent, 
 
 The Turk was dreaming of the hour, 
 When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 
 
 Should tremble at his power ; 
 In dreams, through camp and court, he bore 
 The trophies of a conqueror ; 
 
 In dreams. Ins SOUL: of triumph heard ; 
 Then won- his monarch's signet ring, 
 Then press'd that monarch's throne, a king ; 
 \s wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 
 
 As Eden's garden bird. 
 
 2 An hour pass'd on the Turk awoke ; 
 That bright dream was his last ; 
 
 He woke to hear his sentry's shriek, 
 
 () "To arms! they come! The Greek ! the Greek' 
 
 He woke to die midst flame and smoke, 
 
 And shout, and groan, and sabre str- 
 
 And death shots falling thick and fa-t 
 
 As lightning's from the mountain cloud; 
 
 And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 
 
 Bozzaris ch-.-r IM\ hand. 
 
 () "Strike till the List ann'd foe expir, 
 Strike for your altars and your fire*, 
 Strike for the green grave* of your sires, 
 
 God and your n,r 
 
 i like br !..n.r and well, 
 
 piled that ground with Moslem slain.
 
 Ex. 24, 25.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 123 
 
 They conquer' d but Bozzaris fell, 
 
 Bleeding at every vein. 
 His few surviving comrades saw 
 His smile, when rang their proud " hurrah," 
 
 And the red field was won ; 
 Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
 Calmly, as to a night's repose, 
 
 Like flowers at set of sun. 
 
 4 ( ) Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! 
 
 Come to the mother, when she feels, 
 For the first time, her first-born's breath ; 
 
 Come when the blessed seals, 
 Which close the pestilence are broke, 
 And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
 Come in consumption's ghastly form, 
 The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; 
 Come when the heart beats high and warm, 
 
 With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, 
 And thou art terrible : the tear, 
 The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
 And all we know, or dream, or fear 
 
 Of agony, are thine. 
 
 5 But to the hero,, when his sword 
 
 Has won the battle for the free, 
 Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
 And in its hollow tones are heard 
 
 The thanks of millions yet to be. 
 Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 
 
 Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 
 Rest thee there is no prouder grave, 
 
 Even in her own proud clime. 
 We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
 For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's 
 One of the few, the immortal names, 
 
 That were not born to die. Halleck. 
 
 EXERCISE 25. 
 
 ( ) Now when fair morn orient in Heaven appear'd 
 Up rose the victor Angels, and to arms
 
 124 EXERCISES ON MODULATION. [Ex. 25 
 
 The matin trumpet sung : in arms they stood 
 
 Of golden panoply, refulgent host, 
 5 Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 
 
 Look'd round, inn: .eh coast light armed scour. 
 
 Each quarter, in descry th- 
 
 Where lodg'd, or whither tied, or if for fight, 
 
 In motion or in halt : him soon they met 
 10 Under spread ensigns mo\ing ni^li. in slow 
 
 13ut firm battalion ; back with speediest sail 
 
 Zophiel, of CheruSiim the s\\ilte>t wing, 
 
 Came fly'ng, and in mid air aloud thus cried. 
 
 () ' ARM, Warriors, arm for fight the foe at hand 
 15 Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit 
 
 This day; fear not his flight: so thick a cloud 
 
 He comes, and settled in his face I see 
 
 Sad resolution and MM ach 
 
 Hi* adamantine coat gird well, and 
 CO Fit well his helm, gripe fast his orbed shield, 
 
 rne ev'n or high : i'r this day will pour down, 
 
 If I conjecture aught, no drizzling sho\ 
 
 But rattling storm of arrows, barb'd with fire.' 
 
 ( ) So warn'd he them, aware themselves, and soon 
 25 In order, quit of all impediment; 
 
 Instant, without disturb, they took alarm, 
 
 And onward move, embattled : when behold, 
 
 Not distant far, with heavy pace the foe 
 
 Approaching, gross and huge, in hollow cube, 
 30 Training Li- devilish enginery, impal'd 
 
 On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, 
 
 To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 
 
 A while ; but suddenly at head appear 'd 
 
 Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud. 
 35 () ' VAXi;fAiii> ! to right and left the front unfold, 
 
 That all may see who hate us, how we 
 
 Peace and composure, and with open breast 
 
 Stand ready to receive them, if they like 
 
 Our overture, and turn not back perverse.' 
 
 Milton.
 
 Ex. 26.J EXERCISED ON MODULATION. 125 
 
 EXPRESSION. 
 Page 61. 
 
 The Exercises arranged in this class, belong to the general head of 
 the pathetic and delicate. As this has been partly anticipated under an- 
 other head of the Exercises, and as the manner of execution in this case 
 depends wholly on emotion, there can be little assistance rendered by a 
 notation. Before reading the pieces in this class, the remarks, p. 61 and 
 62 should be reviewed ; and the mind should be prepared to feel the 
 spirit of each piece, by entering fully into the circumstances of the case. 
 
 EXERCISE 26. 
 GENESIS XLIV. Judalis Speech to Joseph. 
 
 18. * Then Judah came near unto him and said, my 
 lord, let thy servant, I pray thee, speak a word in my lord's 
 ears, and let not thine anger burn against thy servant : for 
 thou art even as Pharaoh. 19. My lord asked his servants, 
 saying, Have ye a father, or a brother ? 20. And we said 
 unto my lord, We have a father, an old man, and a child of 
 his old age, a little one : and his brother is dead, and he 
 alone is left of his mother, and his father loveth him. 21. 
 And thou saidst unto thy servants, Bring him down unto me, 
 that I may set mine eyes upon him. 22. And we said unto 
 my lord, The lad cannot leave his father : for if he should 
 leave his father, his father would die. 23. And thou saidst 
 unto thy servants, Except your youngest brother come down 
 with you, ye shall see my face no more. 24. And it came to 
 pass, when we came up unto thy servant my father, we told 
 him the words of my lord. 25. And our father said, Go 
 again and buy us a little food. 26. And we said, We cannot 
 go down : if our youngest brother be with us, then we will 
 go down ; for we may not see the man's face, except our 
 youngest brother be with us. 27. And thy servant my father 
 said unto us, Ye know that my wife bare me two sons : 
 28. And the one went out from me, and I said, Surely 
 he is torn in pieces; and I saw him not since: 29. And 
 if ye take this also from me, and mischief befall him, ye 
 shall bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave ( ) 
 30. Now, therefore, when I come to thy servant my father, 
 and the lad be not with us ; (seeing that his life is bound up 
 in the lad's life:) 31. It shall come to pass, when he seeth. 
 
 * The reader is again desired to bear in mind, that in extracts from 
 the Bible, as well as other books, Italic words denote emphasis.
 
 1,1 i. A i ION. [Ex. 26, 27. 
 
 that th<- lad is imt \Mth us, that IK- will die : and thy servants 
 shall bring down the gray hairs of thy servant our father 
 with sorrow to the gra\-. ;<-. For thy srnant became surety 
 for the lad unto my father, sa\ m^. It 1 brin^ him not unto 
 ihen I shall bear the blame to my i ver. 
 
 38. Now therefore, I pray t !). let thy M-rvant abide intttod 
 of the lad, a bondman to my lord ; and l--t the lad go up 
 with his brethren. 34. For how shall I go up to my father, 
 and the lad be not with me ? lest peradventure 1 see the 
 evil that shall come on my father. 
 
 i:\ERCISE 27. 
 GENESIS XLV. Joseph disclosing himself. 
 
 1. Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them 
 that stood by him ; and he cried, Cause every man to go 
 out from me. And there stood no man with him while Jo- 
 seph made himself known unto his brethren. 2. And he 
 wept aloud ; and the Egyptians and the house of Pharaoh 
 heard. 3. And Joseph said unto his brethren, I AM JOSEPH: 
 doth my FATHER yet live ? And his brethren could not an- 
 swer him, f<>r they were troubled at hid presence.^-4. And 
 Joseph said unto his brethren. Come near to me, 1 pray you; 
 and they came near. And he said, I am JOSKI-H, your 
 brother, whom ye sold into Iv^ypt. 5. Now therefore be 
 not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me 
 hither : for God did send me before you to preserve life. 6. 
 For these two years hath the famine been in the land : and 
 yet there are five years, in the which there shall be neither 
 earing nor harvest. 7. And God sent me before you, to pre- 
 serve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by 
 a great deliverance. 8. So now H v<" that sent 
 
 me hither, but God : and he hath made me a father to Plm- 
 md lord of all his h..u>r. ;md a ruler throughout nil 
 the land of Egypt.- and n> up t.> nn lather, 
 
 and say unto him. Thus saith thy son Joseph, (iod hath 
 mode me lord of all I -nr. tarry not. 
 
 1" And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou 
 shalt be n. sir uiiin me, thon. and thy children, and thy chil- 
 dren's children, and thy flocks and thy herds, nnd all that 
 thou haul: 11. And th.-re will I noun- 1 \ rt there 
 
 are five years <: 1-st thou, and thy household, and 
 
 nil that -t, romp i 1'J. And behold, your
 
 Ex. 27, 28.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 127 
 
 eyes ste, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is my 
 mouth that speaketh unto you. 13. and ye shall tell my 
 father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen ; 
 and ye shall haste, and bring down my father hither. 14. 
 And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept ; 
 and Benjamin wept upon his neck. 15. Moreover he kissed 
 all his brethren, and wept upon them : and after that his 
 brethren talked with him. 
 
 25. And they went up out of Egypt, and came into the 
 land of Canaan unto Jacob their father, 26. And told him, 
 saying, JOSEPH is yet ALIVE ! and he is GOVERNOR over all 
 the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he be- 
 lieved them not. 27. And they told him all the words of 
 Joseph, which he had said unto them : and when he saw 
 the wagons which Joseph had sent to carry him, the spirit 
 of Jacob their father revived : 28. And Israel said, it is 
 enough ; Joseph my son is yet alive : I will go and see him 
 before I die. 
 
 EXERCISE 28. 
 The Death of a Friend. 
 
 1 I fain would sing : but ah ! I strive in vain. 
 Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound. 
 With trembling step, to join yon weeping train, 
 I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, 
 
 And, mix'd with shrieks of woe, the knells of death re- 
 sound. 
 
 2 Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, 
 The soft amusement of the vacant mind ; 
 
 He sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn, 
 He, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined, 
 Friend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind ! 
 He sleeps in dust. Ah, how shall I pursue 
 My theme ! To heart-consuming grief resign'd 
 Here on his recent grave I fix my view, 
 And pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu ! 
 
 3 Art thou, my GREGORY, forever fled? 
 And am I left to unavailing woe ! 
 
 When fortune's storms assail this weary head, 
 Where cares long since have shed untimely snow ?
 
 128 BXBBCIBKS ON MUDUJ..VTIOX. [Ex. 28, 20. 
 
 Ah, now for comfort whither shall I go! 
 No more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers : 
 Thy plarid -v-s witli smi!'--; tm linger glow, 
 My hopes to cherish, and allay ray fears. 
 Tit meet that I should mourn : flow forth afresh my tear*. 
 
 Btattie. 
 
 EXERCISE 29. 
 The Burial of Sir John Moort. 
 
 1 ( ) Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 
 
 As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 
 Not a soldier discharged hi> fan-well shot 
 O'er the grave, where our Hero we buried. 
 
 2 We buried him darkly ; at dead of night ; 
 
 The sods with our bayonets turning, 
 By the struggling moon-beams' misty light, 
 And the lantern dimly burning. 
 
 3 No useless coffin inclosed his breast. 
 
 Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; 
 But he lay like a warrior taking his rest 
 With his martial cloak around him ! 
 
 4 F&w and shdrt were the prayers we said, 
 
 And we spoke not a wdrd of sorrow ; 
 But we steadfastly nnzed on the face of the dead, 
 And we bitterly thought of the morrow 
 
 5 We thought as we hollow'd his narrow bed, 
 
 And smoothed down his lonely pillow 
 How the/t* and the stran /< / w.mld tr.a-1 <'er his bead. 
 And tec far nway on the billow ! 
 
 6 Lightly they'll '.ilk of the spirit that's gone, 
 
 And o'er hi-; 'iplir.iid him ; 
 
 Hut little he'll n-ck. it" they let him sleep on 
 In the grave where a Hrit>n h:is laid him. 
 
 7 But half of our heavy task was <1 
 
 Wli.'ti the rl(M-k toll'ti the hour fT retiring, 
 \nd we heard the distant and random 
 Thnt th foe waa unHenly firing
 
 Ex. 30, 31.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 129 
 
 8 ( 3 ) Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
 
 From the field of his fame fresh and gory ! 
 We carved not a line, we raised not a stone, 
 But left him alone with his glory ! Wolfe. 
 
 EXERCISE 30. 
 
 Eve lamenting the loss of Paradise. 
 ( ) " unexpected stroke, worse than of Death ! 
 Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave 
 Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 
 Fit haunt of gods ? where I had hope to spend, 
 5 Quiet though sad, the respite of that day 
 That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, 
 That never will in other climate grow, 
 My early visitation, and my last 
 At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand, 
 
 10 From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, 
 Who now shall rear you to the sun, or rank 
 Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ? 
 Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn'd 
 With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee 
 
 15 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, accustom'd to immortal fruits ? 
 
 EXERCISE 31. 
 
 Soliloquy of Hamlet's Uncle. 
 ( y ) Oh ! my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
 It hath the primal, eldest curse upon 't, 
 A brother's murder ! Pray I cannot, 
 Though inclination be as sharp as will, 
 5 My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent : 
 And like a man to double business bound, 
 I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
 And both neglect. ( ) What if this cursed hand 
 Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ; 
 10 Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, 
 
 To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy, 
 
 But to confront the visage of offence ? 
 
 And what's in prayer, but this twofold force,
 
 130 EXERCISE* ON MODULATION. [Kx. 31, S'J. 
 
 To be forestall' > fall, 
 
 15 Or pardon'd being down '.' Tln-n I'll look HJ> ; 
 
 My fault is past. But oh, what form of prayer 
 
 . rvi- in ij turn ? " Forgive me my foul murder!" 
 
 That cannot be ; sim-r 1 am Mill possess'd 
 
 Of those effects for which I >ll the munl.T. 
 20 My crown, mine own ambition, and my <|U< cii : 
 . one be pardon'd, and retain the offence ? 
 
 In the corrupted currents of thin world, 
 
 Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice, 
 
 And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 
 25 Buys out the law ; but 'tis not so above : 
 
 There, is no shuffling ; there, the action lies 
 
 In his true nature; and we om-.-lves compell'd, 
 n to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 
 
 To give in evidence. What then ? what rests? 
 30 Try what repentance can : what can it i 
 
 Yet what can it, when one cannot rep.-nt ? 
 
 ( ) wretched state ! oh, bosom, black as death ! 
 
 Oh, limed soul ; tl ;ng to be free, 
 
 Art more engag'd ! Help, an^rls! make assay! 
 35 Bow, stubborn knees; and, heart, with strings of steel, 
 
 Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ! 
 
 All may be well. 
 
 RHETORICAL DIALOGUE. 
 Page 62. EXERCISE 32. 
 
 1. MATT. xiv. 22. And straightway Jesus constrained 
 his disciples to '' t int a ship, and to go b-for<; him unto 
 the other side, w nt the multitudes -.-. Arvl 
 
 when he had sent tin- nmltii up int<> a 
 
 mountain apart t pray : and when the evening wo* 
 he was there alon- .1. I';;' thfl >hip was now HI tlx- midst 
 of the sea, tossed with \\ tin- wind was contrary. 
 
 25. And in the fourth watch of the ni^ht. .1. M;N \M-nt unto 
 
 mg on the sea. 26. And wln-u the d. 
 him walking on the sea. 
 
 ir. -J7. I! htway 
 
 .I,-;i- -pak.- onto them, saying, I'-- ;' good cheer; it i> / ; 
 
 be not afraid. 28. And l'< UT answered him and said, 
 
 if it t*> tln'-ii. Kid me cdm> in .n the wa-
 
 Ex. 32.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. . 131 
 
 ter. 29. And he said, Come. And when Peter was come 
 down out of the ship, he walked on the water, to go to 
 Jesus. 30. But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was 
 afraid ; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save 
 me. 31. And immediately Jesus stretched forth his hand, 
 and caught him, and said unto him, O thou of little faith, 
 wherefore didst thou doubt? 32. And when they were 
 come into the ship, the wind ceased. 33. Then they that 
 were in the ship came and worshiped him, saying, Of a truth 
 thou art the Son of God. 
 
 2. MATT. xvn. 14. And when they were come to the 
 multitude, there came to him a certain man kneeling down 
 to him, and saying, 15. Lord, have mercy on my son; for 
 he is lunatic and sore vexed : for ofttimes he falleth into 
 theatre, and oft into the water. 16. And I brought him to 
 thy disciples, and they could not cure him. 17. Then Jesus 
 answered and said, faithless and perverse generation, 
 how long shall I be with you ? how long shall I suffer you ? 
 Bring him hither to m&. 18. And Jesus rebuked the devil, 
 and he departed out of him : and the child was cured from 
 that very hour. 19. Then came the disciples ta Jesus apart, 
 and said, Why could not we cast him out ? 20. And Jesus 
 said to them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto 
 you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustai'd-seed, ye shall 
 say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place ; 
 and it shall remove ; and nothing shall be impossible unto 
 you. 
 
 3. MATT. xvm. Therefore is the kingdom of heaven 
 likened unto a certain king, which would take account of 
 his servants. 24. And when he had begun to reckon, one 
 was brought unto him which owed him ten thousand talents. 
 25. But forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded 
 him to be sold, and his wife and children, and all that he 
 had, and payment to be made. 26. The servant therefore fell 
 down and worshiped him, saying, Lord, have patience with 
 me, and I will pay thee all. 27. Then the lord of that ser- 
 vant was moved with compassion, and loosed him, and for- 
 gave him the debt. 28. But the same servant went out, and 
 found one of his fellow-servants, which owed him an hun-
 
 UN Mul)Ll.ATIO\. [E\ 
 
 dred pence; and he laid hands on him, and took him by 
 the throat, saying. I'm/ me thai tliou . '. And his 
 
 fellow-servant fell <ln\vn at l.is Icet, and \ --ought him, say- 
 ing, HUM- pmHatet with inc. and I uiil pay thee all. 30. 
 And he would not: but went and ca-st him into pri.son, till 
 he should pay the debt. :ti. So when his fellow-hervants 
 saw what was done, they \\.-n- \nv -orrv, and came and 
 told unto their lord all that was done. :_'. 'I'lu-i: hi> l<>nl, 
 after that lie had called him, .said unt. him, O thou tricked 
 servant, I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiredst 
 me: 33. Shouldst not thu al><> have had compassion on thy 
 fellow-servant even as I had pity on thee ? 
 
 4. MATT. xx. 25. But Jesus called them unto him, and 
 said, Ye know that the princes of the Gentiles exercise do- 
 minion over them, and they that are great exercise authority 
 upon them. 26. But it shall not be so among you : hut 
 whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minis- 
 ter; 27. And whosoever will bo chief among you, let him be 
 your servant : 28. Even as the Son of Man came not to be 
 ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom 
 for many. 20. And as they d-j.arti'd from Jericho, a great 
 multitude followed him. 
 
 30. And behold, two blind men sitting by the way-side, 
 when they heard that Jisus passed by, cried out, saying. 
 Have mtrcy on u-. o Lord. thou son of David. 31. And 
 the multitude rebuked them, because they should hold their 
 peace: but they cried the more, saying, Have mtrcy on us, 
 
 L6rd, thou son of David. 32. And Jesus stood still, and 
 called them, and said. What will ye that I shall do unto 
 you? 33. They Ray unto him. Lord, that our tyet may be 
 
 1 compassion on them, and touched 
 
 their eyes: and immediately their eye- t. and 
 
 they follonrd him. 
 
 MATT. xzi. 23. And when he was com,- into the 
 temple, th- I* and the elders of the people 
 
 eome unto him, u he was tearhii>L r . and said. i:\ \\hat 
 mm&ority doeut thou these things? and who /</-- tine 
 this an And Jesus answered and said unto 
 
 i OIK- tiling, which it" ye tell me, 
 
 1 in Ukw vu. -ill tell you l.v v.kvt authority I do
 
 Ex. 32.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 133 
 
 things. 25. The baptism of John, whence was it? from 
 h6aven, or of men ? And they reasoned with themselves, 
 saying, If we shall say, From heaven ; he will say unto us, 
 Why did ye not then believe him ? 26. But if we shall say, 
 Of men : we fear the people : for all hold John as a prophet. 
 27. And they answered Jesus and said, We cannot tell. 
 And he said unto them, Neither tell I you by what authority 
 I do these things. 
 
 28. But what think ye ? A certain man had two sons, and 
 he came to the first, and said, Son, go work to-day in my 
 vineyard. 29. He answered and said, I will not ; but after- 
 ward he repented, and went. 30. And he came to the 
 second, and said likewise. And he answered, 1 go, sir ; and 
 went not. Whether of them twain did the will of his father ? 
 They say unto him, The first. Jesus saith unto them, Verily 
 I say unto you, That the publicans and harlots go into the 
 kingdom of God before you. 
 
 6. MATT. xxv. 31. When the Son of Man shall come in 
 his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he 
 sit upon the throne of his glory : 32. And before him shall 
 be gathered all nations ; and he shall separate them one 
 from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the 
 goats : 33. And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but 
 the goats on the left. 34. Then shall the King say unto 
 them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, in- 
 herit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of 
 the world; 35. For I was an hungered, and ye gave me 
 meat : I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a stranger, 
 and ye took me in : 36. Naked, and ye clothed me : I was 
 sick, and ye visited me : I Avas in prison, and ye came unto 
 me. 37. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, 
 wk&n saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee ? or thirsty, and 
 gave thee drink? 38. Wh&n saw we thee a stranger, and 
 took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? 39. Or whtn 
 saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee ? 40. 
 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say 
 unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
 least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto m. 41. 
 Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, Depart 
 from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the 
 devil and his angels : 42. For I was an hungered, and ye
 
 lill BXBBClHEft <ON Moi'i I. Ml [Kx. 3W. 
 
 gave me no meat: I was thirty, and ye gave me no 
 43. I was a stran_ r ' r. and >' t""k me nut //< : naked, and \>- 
 clothed in not: sick, and in prison, ami \- visited me not. 
 1 1. Then shall : mswer liiin. saying. Lord, whin saw 
 
 we tbee an hungered, or athir.it, or a stranger, or naked, or 
 sick, or in prison, and did not minister nut'* ilu-e ! 4;> 
 shall he answer them, saying. Yi-rily I say unto you, Inas- 
 much as ye did it not to one of the least of thtat, ye did it 
 not to me. 46. And these shall go away into everlasting 
 punishment : but the righteous into life eternal. 
 
 7. ACTS xn. 5. Peter therefore was kept in prison ; but, 
 prayer was made without ceasing of the church unto God 
 for him. 6. And when Herod would have brought him 
 forth, the same night IVter was sleeping between two sol- 
 diers, bound with two chains; and the keepers before tin- 
 door kept the prison. 7. And, behold, the angel of the Lord 
 came upon him, and a light shined in the prison ; and he 
 smote Peter on the side, and raised him up, saying, 
 up quickly. And his chains fell off from his hands. 8. And 
 the angel said unto him, d'tnl thy-clf, and bind on tin 
 dais; and so he did. And he saith unto him, Ca>t thy gar- 
 ment about thee, and follow me. 0. And he went out, and 
 followed him, and wist not that it was true which was done 
 by the angel ; but thought he saw a vision. 10. When they 
 were past the first and the second ward, they came unto the 
 iron gate that leadeth unto the city ; which opened unto 
 them of his own accord: and they went out, and passed on 
 through one street: and forthwith the angel departed from 
 him. 11. And when Peter \\a> cmne to himself, h. 
 Now I know of a surety, that tin- Lord hath sent lii- 
 and hath de!i\ered me out of the hand of Ilen-d, ;iiid from 
 
 all the expeet.ition of tin- people of the .lew-. 1.'. And 
 
 \\hen he had considered the lliing. he came to the house 
 of Mary ti i of .lolm. whose surname was Murk, 
 
 aliered together, praying. 1 
 kiiock.-d at the door of the gate, a damsel cam.- to 
 
 : Kh'dii. 14. And when she km u i 
 
 she opened, not the gate for gladness, but ran in, and 
 
 told how Piter stood before the gate, i., And tht.-y laid 
 
 unto her, Thou art mad. Dut she constantly affirmed that 
 
 it was Then said they. It i> his angel. 1(5. But
 
 Ex. 32.] EXERCISES ON MODULATION. 
 
 135 
 
 Peter continued knocking. And when they had opened the 
 door, and saw him, they were astonished. 17. But he beck- 
 oning unto them with the hand to hold their peace, declared 
 unto them how the Lord had brought him out of the prison. 
 And he said, Go, show these things unto James and to the 
 brethren. 9 And he departed, and went into another place.
 
 
 EXERCISES. 
 
 PART XX. % 
 
 
 
 The reader will obaerve that rhetorical notation ie but partially 
 applied in the following Exerciser 
 
 EXERCISE 33. 
 Character of Columbia. "* IRVIMO. 
 
 " A peculiar trait in his rich and varied character, 
 remains to be noticed; that ardent and enthusiasti&tim- 
 agination, which threw a magniBcence over his whole 
 style of thinking. Herrera intimates, that he hadfta 
 5 talent for poetry, and some slight traces of it are on %p- 
 ord in the book of prophecies, which he prc-rnted to the 
 Catholic sovereigns. But his poetical temperament is 
 discernible throughout all his writings, and in all his ac- 
 tions. It spread a golden and glorious world around him, 
 
 10 and tinu rt 'd every thin^ with its own gorgeous colors. 
 It betrayed him into visionary speculations, which sub- 
 jected him to the sneers and carilings of men of cooler 
 and safer, but more groveling minds. Such were the 
 conjectures formed on the coast of Paria, about the form 
 
 15 of the earth, and t! rial para-i 
 
 about the mines of Ophir, in Hispaniola, and of the Au- 
 rea Chersonesus, in Veragua; and such was tin- heroic 
 scheme of the en tin- reco\.-r\ -f the holy 
 
 sepulchre. It mingled with his religion, and filled his 
 mind with solemn and meditations, on m\ 
 
 passages of the Scriptures, and the hado\v\ portents of 
 the : nflice in and 
 
 made him c nfent sent forth upon a 
 
 sublime and awful mission. impulses and su- 
 
 25 pernatural visions from the ! h as the voice he 
 
 imagined spok to him in comfort, amidst th troubles
 
 Ex.38.] EXERCISES. PART II. 137 
 
 of Hispaniola, and in the silence of the night, on the dis- 
 astrous coast of Veragua. 
 
 " He was decidedly a visionary, but a visionary of an 
 uncommon and successful kind. The manner in which 
 5 his ardent imagination and mercurial nature were con- 
 trolled by a powerful judgment, and directed by an acute 
 sagacity, is the most extraordinary feature in his charac- 
 ter. Thus governed, his imagination, instead of wasting 
 itself in idle soarings, lent wings to his judgment, and 
 
 10 bore it away to conclusions at which common minds could 
 never have arrived ; nay, which they could not perceive 
 when pointed out. 
 
 " To his intellectual vision it was given, to read in 
 the signs of the times, and the reveries of past ages, the 
 
 15 indications of an unknown world, as soothsayers were 
 said to read predictions in the stars, and to foretell events 
 from the visions of the night. ' His soul,' observes a 
 Spanish writer, ' was superior to the age in which he 
 lived. For him was reserved the great enterprise to 
 
 20 plow a sea, which had given rise to so many fables, and 
 to decipher the mystery of his time.' 
 
 " With all the visionary fervor of his imagination, 
 its fondest dreams fell short of the reality. He died in 
 ignorance of the real grandeur of his discovery. Until 
 
 25 his last breath, he entertained the idea, that he had merely 
 opened a new way to the old resorts of opulent com- 
 merce, and had discovered some of the wild regions of 
 the East. He supposed Hispaniola to be the ancient 
 Ophir which had been visited by the ships of Solomon, 
 
 30 and that Cuba and Terra Firma, were but remote parts 
 of Asia. What visions of glory would have broke upon 
 his mind, could he have known that he had indeed 
 discovered a new continent, equal to the whole of the 
 old world in magnitude, and separated by two vast oceans 
 
 35 from all the earth hitherto known by civilized man ; and 
 how would his magnanimous spirit have been consoled, 
 amidst the chills of age, and cares of penury, the neg- 
 lect of a fickle public, and the injustice of an ungrateful 
 king, could he have anticipated the splendid empires 
 
 40 which were to spread over the beautiful world he had 
 discovered, and the nations and tongues and languages 
 which were to fill its lands with his renown, and to revere 
 and bless his name to the latest posterity !
 
 138 KcisEs. f ART ii. [Ex. 84, 85. 
 
 31. 
 
 The Victim. 1'nii.ADKi.iMiiA CA-- 
 
 1 " Hand me the bowl, ye jovial hand," 
 I ! said " 'twill rouse mv mini) ;" 
 But conscience sei/ed liis trembling hand 
 And dash'd the cup to earth. 
 
 J He look'd around, lie blush'd, la- laugh'd, 
 
 He sij>p'd the sparkling \v, 
 In it he read " who drinks this draught, 
 Shall dig a ;/iim/<r<r'.v gra\ 
 
 3 He started up, like one from si 
 
 And trembled for his life ; 
 He gazed, and saw his children weep, 
 He saw his weeping wife. 
 
 4 In his deep dream he had not felt 
 
 Their agonies and fears ; 
 But now he saw them as they knelt, 
 To plead with prayers and tears. 
 
 5 But the foul fiend her hateful spell 
 
 Threw o'er his wilder'd mind, 
 He saw in every hope a hell ; 
 !! was to reason blind. 
 
 6 He arras p'd the bowl to seek relief; 
 
 No more his conscience said : 
 His bosom friend was sunk in grief, 
 I lis children begg'd for bread. 
 
 7 Through haunts of horror and of strife, 
 
 lie pass'd down life's dark tide; 
 lie cursed his beggar'd babes and wife; 
 He curM-d his God and died! 
 
 r.xr.unsi: 35. 
 
 Conflagration, at Rome of an Amphitheatre. CROLT. 
 
 " Rome was an ocean of flame. Hight and depth 
 were with red surge*, that rolled before the blast
 
 Ex. 35.] EXERCISES. PART II. 139 
 
 like an endless tide. The billows burst up the sides of 
 the hills, which they turned into instant volcanoes, ex- 
 ploding volumes of smoke and fire ; then plunged into 
 the depths in a hundred glowing cataracts, then climbed 
 5 and consumed again. The distant sound of the city 
 in her convulsion went to the soul. The air was filled 
 with the steady roar of the advancing flame, the crash 
 of falling houses, and the hideous outcry of the myriads 
 flying through the streets, or surrounded and perishing 
 
 10 in the conflagration. ********A11 was clamor, violent 
 struggle, and helpless death. Men and women of the 
 highest rank were on foot, trampled by the rabble that 
 had then lost all respect of conditions. One dense mass 
 of miserable life, irresistible from its weight, crushed by 
 
 15 the narrow streets, and scorched by the flames over their 
 heads, rolled through' the gates like ati endless stream of 
 black lava. * * * * * 
 
 " The fire had originally broken out upon the Pala- 
 tine, and hot smoke that wrapped and half blinded us, 
 
 20 hung thick as night upon the wrecks of pavilions and 
 palaces ; but the dexterity and knowledge of my inexpli- 
 cable guide carried us on. It was in vain that I insist- 
 ed upon knowing the purpose of this terrible traverse. 
 He pressed his hand on his heart in reassurance of his 
 
 25 fidelity, and still spurred on. We now passed under the 
 shade of an immense range of lofty buildings, whose 
 gloomy and solid strength seemed to bid defiance to 
 chance and time. A sudden yell appalled me. A ring 
 of fire swept round its summit ; burning cordage, sheets 
 
 30 of canvas, and a shower of all things combustible, flew 
 into the air above our heads. An uproar followed, un- 
 like all that I had ever heard, a hideous mixture of 
 howls, shrieks and groans. The flames rolled down the 
 narrow street before us, and made the passage next to 
 
 35 impossible. While we hesitated, a huge fragment of the 
 building heaved, as if in an earthquake, and fortunate- 
 ly for us fell inwards. The whole scene of terror was 
 then open. The great amphitheatre of Statilius Taurus 
 had caught fire : the stage, with its inflammable furni- 
 
 40 ture, was intensely blazing below. The flames were 
 wheeling up, circle above circle, through the seventy 
 thousand seats that rose from the ground to the roof. I 
 stood in unspeakable awe and wonder on the side of this
 
 I lo [Kx. 35, 86. 
 
 colossal cavern, this mighty N-mp!.- of the city of fire- 
 At length a desci-nding blast cleared away the smoke 
 that covered the arena. The cause of those horrid crie 
 was now visible. Tin- wild boasts kept for the games 
 
 45 had broken from their dens. Maddened by affright 
 and pain, li<>: wolves, whole herds of 
 
 the monsters of India and Africa, were inclosed in an 
 impassable barrier of fire. They bounded, they fought, 
 they screamed, they ton- ; they ran howling round and 
 
 50 round the circle ; they made desperate leaps upwards 
 through the blaze ; they were flung back, and fell only 
 to fasten their fangs in each other, and, with their parch- 
 ing jaws bathed in blood, die r I looked anx- 
 
 iously to see whether any human being was involved 
 
 65 in this fearful catastrophe. To my gn-at n-lief, I could 
 see none. The keepers and attendants had obvi 
 escaped. As I expressed my gladness, I was startled 
 by a loud cry from my guide, the first sound that I had 
 heard him utter. He pointed to the opposite side of the 
 
 60 amphitheatre. There indeed sat an object of melancholy 
 interest ; a man who had been either unable to e- 
 or had determined to die. Escape was now impossible. 
 He sat in desperate calmness on his funeral pile. He 
 was a gigantic Ethiopian slave, entirely naked. He 
 
 65 had chosen his place, as if in mockery, on the imperial 
 throne ; the fire was above him and around him ; and 
 under this tremendous canopy he gazed, without the 
 movement of a muscle, on the combat of the wild beasts 
 below; a solitary sovereign, with the whole tremendous 
 
 70 game played for himself, and inaccessible to the power 
 of man." 
 
 EXERCISE 36. 
 
 Tlf ' ' ' ST. 
 
 1 f'hain'd in the market place he stood, 
 
 .me, 
 Amid the gathering multitude 
 
 That shrunk to hi-ar his name, 
 All stern of look and strong of limb, 
 Hi dark eye on the ground,
 
 EX. 36.] EXERCISES. PART II. 141 
 
 And silently they gazed on him, 
 As on a lion bound. 
 
 2 Vainly, but well, that chief had fought, 
 
 He was a captive now ; 
 Yet pride, that fortune humbles not, 
 
 Was written on his brow. 
 The scars his dark broad bosom wore, 
 
 Show'd warrior true and brave ; 
 A prince among his tribe befgre, 
 
 He could not be a slave. 
 
 3 Then to his conqueror he spake 
 
 ( o ) " My brother is a king ; 
 Undo this necklace from my neck, 
 
 And take this bracelet ring. 
 And send me where my brother reigns, 
 
 And I will fill thy hands 
 With store of ivory from the plains, 
 
 And gold dust from the sands." 
 
 4 (=:) " Not for thy ivory nor thy gold 
 
 Will I unbind thy chain; 
 That bloody hand shall never hold 
 
 The battle spear again. 
 A price thy nation never gave 
 
 Shall yet be paid for thee ; 
 For thou shalt be the Christian's slave, 
 
 In lands beyond the sea." 
 
 5 (") Then wept the warrior chief, and bade 
 
 To shred his locks away ; 
 And, one by one, each heavy braid 
 
 Before the victor lay. 
 Thick were the plaited locks, and long, 
 
 And deftly hidden there, 
 Shone many a wedge of gold among 
 
 The dark and crisped hair. 
 
 6 (<) "Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold, 
 
 Long kept for sorest need ; 
 Take it (thou askest sums untold ) 
 And say that I am freed.
 
 14* } PART ii. [Ex. :<< 
 
 Take it ( ) my wife, the long, long day 
 
 Weeps by the cocoa tree. 
 And my young children leave their play, 
 
 And ask in vain for me." 
 
 7 " I take thy gold but I have made 
 
 Thy fetter- fast and strong, 
 And mean that by the cocoa shade. 
 
 Thy wife shall wait thee long." 
 Strong was the agony that shook 
 
 The captive s frame to hear, 
 And the proud meaning of his look 
 
 Was changed to mortal fear. 
 
 8 His heart was broken crazed his brain, 
 
 At once his eye grew wild, 
 He struggled fiercely with his chain, 
 
 per'd, and wept, and smil'd ; 
 Yet wore not long those fatal bands, 
 
 For once, at shut of d 
 They drew him forth upon the sands, 
 
 The foul hyena's prey. 
 
 I:\KKCISI; 37. 
 Riches of a Poor Barber. EDINBURGH PAPER. 
 
 Coosclenlioai regard to the P*bbalh, providentially rcwanlMk 
 
 In the city of Bath, during the last century, lived .1 
 barber, who in:id- a prartice of following his ordinary 
 occupation on the Lord'- day. As he was pursuing his 
 morning's employment, ho happened to look into some 
 5 place of w>r>hip, ju-t as the mitn-ter \\ . >ut his 
 
 text, " Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it h>ly." 
 He listened IOTILT etxm^h to he n.nvinccd that he was 
 constantly breaking the laws of (Jod and man, by shav- 
 ing and dn ord's dny lie 
 10 lx.vanu-unea.-y. and went with a heavy heart t<> his Sab 
 bath task. At length he l.xik murage, and opened his 
 mind to the minister, who ad\ised him t> ^ive up Sab- 
 bath dressing. an<l w^-r-hip (iod ll< replied, beg- 
 gary would ' 'lenc-c. He had a flourish- 
 :!d almost all \to lo*t. At length
 
 Ex. 37. J EXERCISES. PART II. 143 
 
 after many a sleepless night spent in weeping and pray- 
 ing, he was determined to cast all his care upon God, as 
 the more he reflected the more his duty became apparent. 
 He discontinued Sabbath dressing, went constantly and 
 
 20 early to the public services of religion, and soon enjoyed 
 that satisfaction of mind which is one of the rewards of 
 doing our duty, and that peace of God which the world 
 can neither give nor take away. The consequences he 
 foresaw actually followed. His genteel customers left 
 
 25 him, and he was nicknamed a Puritan or Methodist. He 
 was obliged to give up his fashionable shop, and in the 
 course of years became so reduced, as to take a cellar 
 under the old market-house, and shave the common 
 people. 
 
 30 One Saturday evening, between light and dark, a stran- 
 ger from one of the coaches, asking for a barber, was 
 directed by the ostler, to the cellar opposite. Coming 
 in hastily, he requested to be shavecl quickly, while they 
 changed horses, as he did not like to violate the Sabbath. 
 
 35 This was touching the barber on a tender chord. He 
 burst into tears asked the stranger to lend him a half- 
 penny to buy a candle, as it was not light enough to 
 shave him with safety. He did so, revolving in his 
 mind the extreme poverty to which the poor man must 
 
 40 be reduced. When shaved, he said, "There must be 
 something extraordinary in your history, which I have 
 not now time to hear. Here is half a crown for you. 
 When I return, I will call and investigate your case. 
 What is your name ?" " William Reed," said the as- 
 
 45 tonished barber. " William Reed !" echoed the stranger : 
 "William Reed ; by your dialect, you are from the west?" 
 " Yes, sir ! from Kingston, near Taunton !" " Wil- 
 liam Reed, from Kingston, near Taunton ! What was 
 your father's name?" "Thomas." "Had he any 
 
 50 brother ?"*>" Yes, sir; one after whom I was named; 
 but he went to the Indies, and as we never heard from him 
 we supposed him to be dead." " Come along, follow 
 me," said the stranger, " I am going to see a person who 
 says his name is William Reed, of Kingston, near Taun- 
 
 5 ton. Come and confront him. If you prove to be in- 
 deed he who you say you are, I have glorious news for 
 you. Your uncle is dead, and has left an immense 
 fortune, which I will put you in possession of when all 
 legal debts are removed."
 
 1H IAI K. ISM. PART II [Ex. 87, 38 
 
 60 They went by the coach saw the pretended William 
 Reed, and proved him to be an impostor. Tin stran- 
 ger, who was a pious attorney, was soon legally sa 1 
 of t: 's identity, and told him that he had ad- 
 
 vertise,! him in vain. Providence had now thrown him 
 
 <!5 in his way, in a most extraordinary manner, and lie had 
 much pleasure in transferring a ^reat many thousand 
 pounds to a worthy man the rightful heir of the prop- 
 erly. Thus was man's extremity, God's opportunity. 
 Had the poor barber posse- naif-penny, or 
 
 70 had credit for a candle, he might have remained unknown 
 for years ; but he trusted God, who never said, "Seek ye 
 my face in vain." 
 
 KXKItCISK 38. 
 
 Burning of the Fame and escape of tlte Paxsengert. 
 NEW YORK ATLAS. 
 
 " We embarked on the 2d inst. and sailed at daylight 
 for England, from the East Indies, with e\ ery prospect of 
 a quick and comfortable passage. The ship was 
 thing we could wish ; and having closed my charge 
 5 here, much to my satisfaction, it was one of the h 
 
 days of my life. We were, perhaps, t'x> happy; for in 
 the evening came a sad reverse. Sophia had just gone 
 to bed, and I had thrown off half my clothes, when 
 of fire ! fire! roused us from our calm content, and in 
 
 10 five minutes the whole ship was in flame> ! 1 ran to ex- 
 amine whence the flames principally issued, and found 
 that the fire had its origin immediately under our rahin. 
 (JL) Down with the boats! Where is- Sophia? Here. 
 The children? Hrre. A rope to the side! I 
 
 13 Lady Raffles. Give her to me, says one. 1 'II tai, 
 
 says the captain. Throw the '/'////x)t/<?r^gverboard. It 
 cannot be got at ; it is in the maga/ine. clo M - fo the lire. 
 Stand clear of the p.., 
 Wa-- -! Whe into the 
 
 20 bo ! come into the l.at. Push off, 
 
 puxh off. Stand clear of tli' hip. 
 
 (^) All this passed much ijuickVr tl, A rite it. 
 
 We push) ! "IT. and a> we did so, the fhmes hurst out of 
 our cabin window, and the whole af
 
 Ex. 38.] EXERCISES. PART II. 145 
 
 was in flames, The masts and sails not taking fire, we 
 moved to a distance sufficient to avoid tlie immediate 
 explosion ; but the flames were coming out of the main 
 hatchway ; and seeing the rest of the crew, with the 
 
 25 captain, still on board, we pulled back to her under the 
 bows, so as to be more distant from the powder. As 
 we approached, we perceived that the people on board 
 were getting into another boat on the opposite side. She 
 pushed off ; we hailed her ; have you all on board ? 
 
 30 Yes, all, save one. Who is he ? Johnson, sick in his 
 cot. Can we save him ? No, impossible. The flames 
 were issuing from the hatchway. At this moment, the 
 poor fellow, scorched, I imagine, by the flames, roared 
 out most lustily, having run upon the deck. I will go 
 
 35 for him, says the captain. The two boats then came to- 
 gether, and we took out some of the persons from the 
 captain's boat, which was overladen. He then pulled 
 under the bowsprit of the ship, and picked the poor 
 fellow up. Are you all safe ? Yes, we have got the 
 
 40 man : all lives safe. Pull off from the ship. Keep your 
 eye on the star, Sir Stamford. There's one scarcely 
 visible. 
 
 We then hauled close 'to each other, and found the 
 captain fortunately had a compass, but we had 'no light 
 
 45 except from the ship. Our distance from Bencoolen, we 
 estimated to be about fifty miles, in a southwest direc- 
 tion. There being no landing place to the southward of 
 Bencoolen, our only chance was to regain that port. 
 The captain then undertook to lead, and we to follow, 
 
 50 in a N. N. E. course, as well as we could : no chance, 
 no possibility being left, that we could again approach 
 the ship ; for she was now one splendid flame, fore 
 and aft, and aloft, her masts and sails in a blaze, and 
 rocking to and fro, threatening to fall in an instant. 
 
 55 There goes -her mizen-mast ; pull away, my boys ; there 
 goes the gunpowder. Thank God ! thank God ! 
 
 You may judge of our situation without further par- 
 ticulars. The alarm was given at about twenty minutes 
 past eight, and in less than ten minutes she was in 
 
 60 flames. There was not a soul on board at half-past eight, 
 and in less than ten minutes afterwards she was one grand 
 mass of fire. 
 
 My only apprehension was the want of boats to hold 
 7
 
 140 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 38. 
 
 the people, as there was not time to have got out the 
 long-boat, or to make a raft. All we had lo rely upon 
 were two small quarter-boats, which fortunately 
 lowered without accident; and in these two small, open 
 
 65 boats, without a drop of water or grain of food, or a rag 
 of covering, except what we happened at the moment 
 to have on our backs, we embarked on the ocean, thank- 
 ful to God for his mercies ! Poor Sophia, having been 
 taken. out of her bed, had nothing on but ln-r wrapper; 
 
 70 neither shoes nor stockings. The children just as taken 
 out of bed, whence one had been snatched after the 
 flames had attacked it. In short, there was not time 
 for any one to think of more than two things. Can the 
 ship be saved ? No. Let us save ourselves then. All 
 
 75 else was swallowed up in one grand ruin. 
 
 To make the best of our misfortune, we availed our- 
 selves of the light from the ship to steer a tolerably 
 good course towards the shore. She continued to burn 
 till about midnight, when the saltpetre, which she had 
 
 80 on board, took fire, and sent up one of the most splen- 
 did and brilliant flames that ever was seen, illuminating 
 the horizon in every direction, to an extent not less than 
 fifty miles, and casting that kind of blue light over us, 
 which is of all others most horrible. She burnt and con- 
 
 85 tinued in flame, in this style, for about an hour or two, 
 when w( of the object in clouds of smoke. 
 
 Neither Nilson nor Mr. Bell, our medical friend, who 
 had accompanied us, had saved their coats ; but the 
 tail of mine, with a pocket-handkerchief, served to 
 
 00 keep Sophia's feet warm, and we made breeches for the 
 children with our neck-cloths. Rain now came on, but 
 fortunately it was not of long continuance, and we got 
 dry again. The night became serene and starlight. 
 We were now certain of our course, and the ni- 
 
 95 haved manfully; they rowed incessantly, Ihd with 
 
 heart and spirit ; and never did poor mortals look out 
 more for daylight and for land, than we did. Not 
 that our sufferings or grounds of complaint were any 
 thing to what In "'fallen others ; but from So^- 
 
 100 phia's delicate health, as well as my own, and the 
 stormy natur- I felt perfectly convinced that 
 
 we were unable t ; on, and exposure to 
 
 sun and weather many days ; nnd aware of the rapidity
 
 Ex. 38, 39.] EXERCISES PART ii. 147 
 
 of the currents, I feared we might fall to the southward 
 of the port. 
 
 At daylight, we recognized the coast, and Rat Island, 
 which gave us great spirits ; and though we found our- 
 
 105 selves much to the southward of the port, we considered 
 ourselves almost at home. Sophia had gone through the 
 night better than could have been expected, and we 
 continued to pull on with all our strength. About eight 
 or nine, we saw a ship standing to us from the Roads. 
 
 110 They had seen the flames on shore, and sent out ves- 
 sels to our relief; and here certainly came a minister 
 of Providence in the character of a minister of the Gos- 
 pel ; for the first person I recognized was one of the 
 missionaries. They gave us a bucket of water, and we 
 
 115 took the captain on board as a pilot. The wind, how- 
 ever, was adverse, and we could not reach the shore, 
 and took to the ship, where we got some refreshment, 
 and shelter from the sun. By this time Sophia was 
 quite exhausted, fainting continually. About two o'clock, 
 
 120 we landed safe and sound: and no words of mine can 
 do justice to the expressions of feeling, sympathy, and 
 kindness, by which we were hailed by every one. If 
 any proof had been wanting, that my administration had 
 been satisfactory here, we had it unequivocally from 
 
 125 all. There was not a dry eye; and as we drove back 
 to our former home, loud was the cry of " God be 
 praised." 
 
 EXERCISE 39. 
 The Hour of Prayer. MRS. HEMANS. 
 
 1 Child, amidst the flowers at play, 
 While the red light fades away ; 
 Mother, with thine earnest eye, 
 Ever following silently ; 
 Father, by the breeze at eve 
 Call'd thy harvest-work to leave, 
 Pray ! Ere yet the dark hours be, 
 Lift the heart, and bend the knee. 
 
 2 Traveller, in the stranger's land, 
 Far from thine own household band ;
 
 148 EXI i ,-\KT ii. [Ex. 39, 10. 
 
 Mourner, haunted by the tone 
 Of a Mil.-.- iV.iin tliis world gone; 
 Captive, in whose narrow cell 
 Sunshine hath not leave, to dwell, 
 
 r on the darkening sea, 
 Lift the heart, and bend the knee. 
 
 ' .trrior, that from battle won, 
 
 at set of sun ; 
 in. <'([- the lowly slain, 
 Weeping on his burial-plain ; 
 Ye that triumph, yC that sigh, 
 Kindred by one holy tie ! 
 
 -n's tir>t ."-tar alike ye see 
 r't the heart, and bend the knee! 
 
 i:\ERCISE 40. 
 My Mother 8 Grave. AXO.VYMOUB. 
 
 It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when 
 after a long absence fmrn my native village, I stood be- 
 side the sacred mound beneath which I had seen her 
 buried. Since that mournful period, a great change had 
 5 come over me. My childish years had passed away, 
 and with them my youthful character. The world was 
 altered too; and as I stood at my mother's grave, I 
 could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless, 
 happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an 
 
 10 excess of tenderness. But the varied events of thirteen 
 years had not effaced the remembrance of that mother's 
 .-mile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday 
 as if the blessed sound of her well-remembered voice 
 was in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and 
 
 15 childhood were brought I my mind, 
 
 that had it not been for one bitter n ;, the tears 
 
 I shed would have been gentle and icfimliiay. Ti 
 cumstance may seem a trifling one but the thought of 
 it now pains my heart, and : . that those children 
 
 20 who have parents to love them, may learn to value them 
 as they ought. 
 
 My mother had been ill a long time, and I had be-
 
 Ex. 40.] EXERCISES PART II. 149 
 
 come so accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, 
 that I was not frightened at them, as children usually 
 are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently ; but when, 
 day after day, I returned from school, and found her the 
 
 25 same, I began to believe she would always be spared to 
 me ; but they told me she would die. 
 
 One day when I had lost my place in the class, and 
 done my work wrong side outward, I came home discour- 
 aged, and fretful ; I went to my mother's chamber. She 
 
 SO was paler than usual, but she met me with the same af- 
 fectionate smile that always welcomed my return. Alas ! 
 when I look back, through the lapse of thirteen years, 
 I think my heart must have been stone, not to have been 
 melted by it. She requested me to go down stairs, and 
 
 35 bring her a glass of water ; I pettishly asked why she 
 did not call a domestic to do it. With a look of mild 
 reproach which I shall never forget if I live to be a hun- 
 dred years old, she said, ' And will not my daughter bring 
 a glass of water, for her poor sick mother ?' 
 
 40 I went and brought her the water, but I did not do 
 it kindly. Instead of smiling and kissing her, as I was 
 wont to do, I set the glass down very quickly and left 
 the room. After playing a short time, I went to bed 
 without bidding my mother good night ; but when alone 
 
 45 in my room, in darkness and silence, I remembered how 
 pale she looked, and how her voice trembled when she 
 said, ' Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for 
 her poor sick mother ?' I couldn't sleep. I stole into her 
 chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy 
 
 50 slumber, and they told me I must not waken her. I did 
 not tell any one what troubled me, but stole back to my 
 bed, resolved to rise early in the morning, and tell her 
 how sorry I was for my conduct. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and hur- 
 
 55 rying on my clothes, I hastened to my mother's cham- 
 ber. She was dead ! she never spoke more never smiled 
 upon me again and when I touched the hand that used 
 to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that 
 it made me start. I bowed down by her side, and sob- 
 
 60 bed in the bitterness of my heart. I thought then I 
 wished I might die, and be buried with her ; and old as 
 I now am, I would give worlds were they mine to give, 
 could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave
 
 150 EXERCI3KH. PART II. [Ex. 40, 41. 
 
 my childish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back; 
 65 and when 1 st.-nnl I* 1 , i whenever I think of 
 
 her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful 
 look she gave me, will bite like a serpent, and sting like 
 an adder. 
 
 J:\KKCISI-: 41. 
 
 A Tale of Waterloo. ANONYMOUS. 
 
 About the middle of the night I received a visit from 
 a young man, with whom I had formed an intimate ac- 
 quaintance. He was the only son of a gentleman of 
 large property in the South of Ireland ; but ha\iii'_ r formed 
 5 an attachment to a beautiful girl in humble life, and 
 married her against the will of his father, he had been 
 disinherited and turned out of doors.***** 
 
 Depressed as I was in spirit myself, I was struck with 
 the melancholy tone in which that night he accosted me. 
 
 10 He felt a presentiment, he said, that he would n< 
 
 vive the battle of the ensuing day. HP wi>hed to bid 
 me farewell, and to intrust to my care his por 
 which, with his farewell i was all he had to 
 
 bequeath to his wife and child. Absence had renewed, 
 
 16 or rather doubled, all his fondness for the former, and 
 portrayed her in all the wit. : had won 
 
 his boyish affection. He talked of her while tin- 
 ran down his cheeks, and conjured me, if e\er I reached 
 England, to find her out, and make known her case 
 
 20 to his father. In vain, while I pledged my word to the 
 fulfilment of his wishes, I endeavored to cheer him with 
 better hopes. He listened in mournful silence to all I 
 could suggest ; flung his arms round my neck ; wrung 
 my hand, and we I saw him I 
 
 25 It was during the hottest part of the next and terrible 
 day, when with a noise that drowned even tin- T-* 
 the artillery, Sir William I'onsonby's brigade 
 dashed past our hollow square, bearing' in in 
 
 t tremendous charge, the flower of Napoleon's chr. 
 
 30 Far ahead even of his national regiment, I saw the manly 
 figure of my friend. It was but for a nmn: 
 next instant he was fighting in the centre of the enemy's 
 squadrons ; and the clouds of smoke, that closed in masses
 
 Ex. 41.] EXERCISES. PART II. 151 
 
 round friend and foe, hid him from my view. When 
 
 35 the battle was over, and all was hushed but the groans of 
 the wounded, and the triumphant shouts and rolling drums 
 of the victorious Prussians, who continued the pursuit 
 during the entire of the night, I quitted the shattered re- 
 mains of the gallant regiment in whose ranks I had that 
 
 40 day the honor of standing. The moon was wading 
 through scattered masses of dark and heavy clouds, when 
 I commenced my search for my friend. The light was 
 doubtful and uncertain ; yet it was easy to keep along 
 the track that marked the last career of Ponsonby. 
 
 45 Shuddering, lest in every face I should recognize my 
 friend, I passed by, and sometimes trod upon the cold 
 and motionless heaps, which now looked so unlike the 
 " fiery masses of living valor" that a few hours before, 
 had commingled, with a concussion more dreadful than 
 
 50 the earthquake's shock. Although I at first felt a certain 
 conviction of his fate, I afterwards began to hope that 
 the object of my search had, Contrary to his prediction, 
 survived the terrible encounter. I was about to retire, 
 when a heap of slain, in a ploughed field, on which the 
 
 55 moon was now shining clearly, attracted my notice. 
 Literally piled on each other, were the bodies of five 
 cuirassiers; and lying beneath his horse was the dead 
 body of my friend. You may form some idea of my as- 
 tonishment, on finding, by a nearer inspection, that his 
 
 60 head was supported and his neck intwined by the arms 
 of a female, from whom also the spirit had taken its de- 
 parture ; but you can form no conception of the horror 
 I felt at beholding, in this scene of carnage and desola- 
 tion, in the very arms of death, and on the bosom of a 
 
 65 corpse, a living infant, sleeping calmly, with the moon- 
 beam resting on its lovely features, and a smile playing 
 on its lips, as if angels were guarding its slumbers, and 
 inspiring its dreams ! And who knows but perhaps they 
 were ? The conviction now flashed on my mind, that 
 
 70 these were the wife and child of my unfortunate friend ; 
 and the letters we afterwards found on the person of the 
 former, proved that I was right in my conjecture. Driv- 
 en aside by the gale of pleasure or ambition, or by the 
 storms of life, the affections of man may veer ; but un- 
 
 75 changeable and unchanging is a true heart in woman, 
 " She loves, and loves forever." This faithful wife had
 
 132 I-ART u. [Ex. 41 
 
 followed h'T husband through a land of strangers, and 
 over the pathless sea; through tin- crowded city and 
 the hustling camp, till sin- found him stretcli.-d <,n the 
 
 80 battle field. Perhaps M in time to i 
 
 parting sigh, and her spirit, (juitting its uorn-out tene- 
 ment of clay, winded Him \v ho gave 
 them being. With the assistance' of smne of my com- 
 rades, I consigned this hapless pair to the earth, wrapped 
 
 85 in the same military cloak ; and enveloping the infant, 
 this dear child of my adoption, in my plaid, I returned t.. 
 the spot where our regiment lay. 
 
 42. 
 
 The Righteous never forsaken. NEW YORK SPECTATOR. 
 
 It was Saturday night, and the widow of the Pine 
 Cottage sat by her blazing fagots, with her five ta 
 children at her side, mg, by listening to the 
 
 artlessness of their prattle, to dissipate the heavy gloom 
 that pressed upon her mind. For a year, her own 
 
 hands had provided for her helpless family, for she had 
 no supporter: she thought of no friend in all the wide, 
 unfriendly world around. Hut that mysterious Provi- 
 dence, the wisdom of whose ways are above human com- 
 
 10 prehension, had visited her with wasting sickness, and 
 her little means had become 1. It was now, too, 
 
 mid-winter, and the snow lay heavy and deep through 
 all the surroundii . while storms Mill seemed 
 
 gathering in the heavens, and the driving wind roared 
 
 15 amidst the hounding pines and rocked her puny man- 
 sion. 
 
 The last lu-rri: 1 up<-n t her ; 
 
 it was the only at 1 she possessed, and no won- 
 
 der her forlorn. d< brought up in her lone bo- 
 
 20 som all the hen shr 1. Hiked upon 
 
 her children . vr, forlorn as she \\ 
 
 suffered tin- vspairtori i.ough 
 
 she knew tii.. is lo the widow and to 
 
 the word. Providence had 
 
 25 many years . her her eldest son, who 
 
 went from hi- hi> fortune on the high 
 
 sea- hich sh heard no note or tidings of him ;
 
 Ex. 42.] EXERCISES. PART II. 153 
 
 and in later time, had, by the hand of death, deprived 
 her of the companion and staff of her earthly pilgrimage, 
 
 30 in the person of her husband. Yet to this hour she had 
 
 been upborne : she had not only been able to provide for 
 
 her little flock, but had never lost an opportunity of 
 
 ministering to the wants of the miserable and destitute. 
 
 The indolent may well bear with poverty, while the 
 
 35 ability to gain sustenance remains. The individual who 
 has but his own wants to supply, may suffer with forti- 
 tude the winter, of want ; his affections are not wounded, 
 his heart not wrung. The most desolate in populous 
 cities may hope, for charity has not quite closed her hand 
 
 40 and heart, and shut her eyes on misery. But the indus- 
 trious mother of helpless and depending children far 
 from the reach of human charity, has none of these to 
 console her. And such an one was the widow of the 
 Pine Cottage ; but as she bent over the fire, and took 
 
 45 up the last scanty remnant of food, to spread before her 
 children, her spirits seemed to brighten up, as by some 
 sudden and mysterious impulse, and Cowper's beautiful 
 lines came uncalled across her mind 
 
 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
 
 But trust him for his grace ; 
 Behind a frowning Providence 
 
 He hides a smiling face. 
 
 The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, 
 when a gentle rap at the door, and loud barking of a 
 
 55 dog, attracted the attention of the family. The children 
 flew to open it, and a weary traveler, in tattered gar- 
 ments, and apparently indifferent health, entered, and 
 begged a lodging, and a mouthfnl of food ; said he, " it 
 is now twenty-four hours since I tasted bread." The 
 
 60 widow's heart bled anew as under a fresh complication 
 of distresses ; for her sympathies lingered not round her 
 fireside. She hesitated not even now ; rest and share of 
 all she had she proffered to the stranger. " We shall not 
 be forsaken ;" said she, " or suffer deeper for an act of 
 
 65 charity." 
 
 The traveler drew near the board but when he saw 
 the scanty fare, he raised his eyes towards Heaven with 
 astonishment " and is this all your store ?" said he 
 " and a share of this do you offer to one you know not ? 
 
 70 then never saw I charity before ! But, madam," said he,
 
 154 XlKtClSBd. PART II. [Ex. 42, 43. 
 
 continuing, "do you n<>t wroo^jumr '-.' - ) 
 
 a part of your last mouthful 
 
 the poor widow, and the tear drops gu.>hed into her eyes 
 
 as she said it, " 1 have a boy, a 
 
 76 on the face of the wide world. . has taken 
 
 him away, and I only act i I would that 
 
 others should act towards him. (iod, who sent manna 
 from heaven, can pn>\ did fur Israel and 
 
 how should I this night oilVnd him, if inv son >houl: 
 
 80 wanderer, destitute a* y-u, and he should have provided 
 for him-Jl home, <\-n p-..ir as this turn you 
 
 unrelie\ed away." 
 
 :<!. and the stranger springing from his 
 seat, clasped her in his arms " (iod indeed has pro- 
 
 85 vided your son a home and ilth to 
 
 reward the goodness of h. tress my mother! 
 
 oh, my mother !" 
 
 It was her long lost urning to her bosom from 
 
 the Indies. He had chosen that disguise that he might 
 
 90 the more completely surpi . mily ; and never was 
 
 surprise more pen ip of 
 
 joy. That humhle ivsid<-ni-e in : was excha 
 
 for one comfortable, and indeed beautiful, in the % 
 and the widow lised 1 >i, u with her dutiful son, in the 
 
 95 enjoyment of worldly plenty, and in the delightful em- 
 ployments of virtue ; and at this day the passer by is 
 pointed to the willow that spreads its branches above her 
 gravr. 
 
 To Printers. FIRHRR AMES. 
 
 n<-w>p:i| 
 market, as much a.s any othT. Th- 
 
 den 
 
 ! the tV| 
 
 fi multiply upon us surprint 
 
 to lie feared. Will not ! 
 
 is not loathsome or short A 
 
 to be very lean and < 
 
 prodigies or i 
 10 bi:
 
 Ex. 43.] EXERCISES. PART II. 155 
 
 Some of these tales excite horror, and others disgust ; 
 yet the fashion reigns, like a tyrant, to relish wonders, 
 and almost to relish nothing else. Is this a reasonable 
 taste ; or is it monstrous and worthy of ridicule ? Is the 
 
 15 history of Newgate the only one worth reading? Are 
 oddities only to be hunted ? Pray tell us, men of ink, 
 if our free presses are to diffuse information, and we, 
 the poor ignorant people, can get it no other way than 
 by newspapers, what knowledge we are to glean from the 
 
 20 blundering lies, or the tiresome truths about thunder 
 storms, that, strange to tell ! kill oxen or burn barns ! 
 The crowing of a hen is supposed to forebode cuck- 
 oldom ; and the ticking of a little bug in the wall 
 threatens yellow fever. It seems really as if our news- 
 
 25 papers were busy to spread superstition. Omens, and 
 dreams, and prodigies, are recorded, as if they were 
 worth minding. One would think our gazettes were 
 intended for Roman readers, who were silly enough to 
 make account of such things. We ridicule the papists 
 
 30 for their credulity ; yet, if all the trumpery of our papers 
 is believed, we have little right to laugh at any set of 
 people on earth ; and if it is not believed, why is it 
 printed ? 
 
 Surely, extraordinary events have not the best title to 
 
 35 our studious attention. To study nature or man, we 
 ought to know things that are in the ordinary course, not 
 the unaccountable things that happen out of it. 
 
 This country is said to measure seven hundred mill- 
 ions of acres, and it is inhabited by almost six millions 
 
 40 of people. Who can doubt, then, that a great many 
 crimes will be committed, and a great many strange 
 things will happen every seven years ? There will be 
 thunder showers, that will split tough white-oak trees ; 
 and hail storms, that will cost some farmers the full 
 
 45 amount of twenty shillings to mend their glass windows ; 
 there will be taverns, and boxing matches, and elections, 
 and gouging, and drinking, and love, and murder, and 
 running in debt, and running away, and suicide. Now, 
 if a man supposes eight, or ten, or twenty dozen of these 
 
 50 amusing events will happen in a single year, is he not 
 just as wise as another man, who reads fifty columns of 
 amazing particulars, and, of course, knows that they have 
 happened ?
 
 156 I-AKT if. [Ex. 43, 44. 
 
 This state has almost one hundred thousand dwelling 
 
 55 houses ; it would be strange, if all of them should escape 
 fire for twelve months. Vet is it very |irotilable for a 
 man to UT..HH- ;i deep student of all the accidents, by 
 which they are c< i^ood care 
 
 of his chimney corner, and put a fender before the back- 
 
 log belore lie goes to bed. Ha\ing done this, he may let 
 hi-. aunt or grandmother read by day, or meditate by 
 night, the terrible newspaper articles of fires. 
 
 Some of the shocking articles in the papers raise sim- 
 ple, and very simple, wonder ; some, terror ; and some, 
 
 65 horror and disgust. Now what instruction is there in 
 
 these endless wonders? Who is the wiser or hafpitr 
 
 for reading the account n? On the contrary, do 
 
 they not shock tender minds, and addle shallow brains? 
 
 nan this happens; for some e<-<-mii.- minds are 
 
 70 turned to mischief by sucli account-, a.s they receive, of 
 troops of incendiaries burning our cities: the spirit of 
 imitation is contagious ; and boys are found unaccount- 
 abl\ do as men do. \\'hen the man flew from 
 
 the steeple of the North church fifty years ago, every 
 
 76 unlucky boy thought of nothing but flying from a sign- 
 post. 
 
 EXERCISE 44. 
 
 Washington. PIERPOXT. 
 
 (The following original hymn was sung at the celebration on the 22ml 
 of February, in th- <>I,1 South Charch. Boston.] 
 
 To thee, beneath whose eye, 
 ;i circling century 
 
 Obedient : 
 
 Our nation, in it- prime, 
 Look'd with a faith sublime, 
 And n ii-ied in " the time 
 
 That tried men's souls " 
 
 When, from this t^itr of heaven,* 
 People and ] ri< -; were drr. 
 (1 sword, 
 
 Thr OM South ( 'linrrh waa taken powMBon of by the Hritisli. whiU 
 1.1 Boston, and converted into barracks for the cavalry, the pew 
 being cut up for fuel, or used in constructing lUlIt for the hone*.
 
 Ex. 44, 45.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 157 
 
 And, where thy saints had pray'd, 
 The harness'd war-horse neigh'd, 
 And horsemen's trumpet bray'd 
 In harsh accord. 
 
 Nor was our father's trust, 
 Thou Mighty One and Just. 
 
 Then put to shame : 
 " Up to the hills" for light, 
 Look'd they in peril's night, 
 And, from yon guardian height,* 
 
 Deliverance came. 
 
 There, like an angel form, 
 Sent down to still the storm, 
 
 Stood WASHINGTON ! 
 Clouds broke and roll'd away ; 
 Foes fled in pale dismay ; 
 Wreath'd were his brows with bay. 
 
 When war was done. 
 
 God of our sires and sons, 
 Let other Washingtons 
 
 Our country bless, 
 And, like the brave and wise 
 Of by-gone centuries, 
 Show that true greatness lies 
 
 In righteousness. 
 
 EXERCISE 45. 
 Miserable case of a Weaver. BELL'S MESSENGER. 
 
 A very worthy poor weaver applied to his master 
 about three weeks since, begging earnestly for work, 
 stating that he was in great want, and Avould thankfully 
 do any thing for the means .of supporting his existence. 
 5 His master assured him he did not want any more goods, 
 his stock being very heavy, without any sale, and that 
 he could not give out more work to any one. The man 
 pressed very much, and at length his master said, 
 
 * From his position on " Dorchester Heights," that overlook the town, 
 General Washington succeeded in compelling the British forces to evacu- 
 ate Boston.
 
 158 EXERCISES. IMKT II. [E\ 
 
 " W.-li, .Jonathan, if it is absolutely necessary for you 
 
 10 to wea to prevent y>u from starving, I will 
 
 let you have it. hut cannot -jive you more than 1*. for 
 it, ('Ji. is the regular price,) for I really do not want 
 any more goods made up for a long time to come." 
 " Let m- have it, master. I he:,'," said the poor man, 
 
 15 " whatever you pay me for it, pray let me have it." 
 The piece was given to him to weave, and at the 
 end of two days he brought it home, and on carrying it 
 to his master begged of him to give him 1*. 6<f. for 
 it, saying how much he was distressed for money. 
 His master paid him the Is. 6d., and the man went 
 
 20 away. The master feeling very uncomfortable about 
 the poor man, and thinking that the earnestness of his 
 manner must ari- want, determined 
 
 on following him home. He went to the cottage of the 
 weaver, and found the wife alone in the lower room, 
 
 25 making a, little gruel over a poor Ore. " Well, V 
 
 said the master, "where is your husband?" "Oh! 
 sir, he is just come in from your house, and being 
 faint and weary, he is ju-4 gone to lie down in his bed." 
 "I will go up and see him, Mary;" and immed: 
 
 30 he went to the upper room, where he saw the poor man 
 
 lying on his bed, just in the agonies of death, with his 
 
 mouth open, and oil hands clasped ; and after a short 
 
 vulsion, he expired. The master was very mucli 
 
 distressed, and came down stairs, hoping to be able to 
 
 B the wife, who was in a very emanated condition ; 
 
 she had just poured the gruel into a basin, intending 
 
 to carry it up to her In I he master said. Come, 
 
 Mar said she, 
 
 " not a drop will 1 ta>te till JnnntJmn has had some. 
 
 .her of us hive Irid anv tiling within our lips but 
 
 - for the tv.'n davs we v. ing your piece : and 
 
 I thought it 
 
 . anv thi: - so long since we ' 
 
 food ; le. : firxt." The 
 
 
 
 up to hor busbar. 
 
 finding that he could not prevail on her to touch the gruel, 
 
 was obliged to tell her that her hushand WE* dead. 
 
 nan set d" ~:n of gruel, sunk on the 
 
 f0 floor, and in. red.
 
 159 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 46. 
 
 EXERCISE 46. 
 The Tomb of Washington. ANONYMOUS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 We thought to gallop to Mount Vernon, but the 
 chance of missing the way, and the tiresomeness of a 
 gig, induced us to take a hackney coach. Accordingly 
 we took possession, and ordered it on with all convenient 
 6 dispatch. But haste was out of the question ; for never 
 was worse road than that to Mount Vernon. Still, in the 
 season of foliage, it may be a romantic route. As it 
 was, we saw nothing to attract the eye, save a few seats, 
 scattered among the hills, and occupying some pictu- 
 
 10 resk eminences. On we went and yet onward 
 through all variety of riding ; hill and vale, meadow and 
 woodland, until a sheet of water began to glimmer through 
 the dim trees, and announce our approach again to the 
 Potomac. In a few moments, a turn in the wild and un- 
 
 15 even road brought us in view of the old mansion-house 
 of Washington. We drove to the entrance of the old 
 gateway, and alighted in the midst of what appeared to 
 be a little village, so numerous and scattered were the 
 buildings. About those which we first came upon, there 
 
 20 was an air of dilapidation and neglect that was rather 
 unpromising. They were of brick, and devoted to the 
 lower menial purposes of the place. As we advanced, 
 the houses that covered the grounds had a neater ap- 
 pearance ; and when we came in view of the edifice, of 
 
 25 which all these were the outworks or appendages, we 
 were at once struck with the simple beauty of the struc- 
 ture, and the quiet and secluded loveliness of its situa- 
 tion. The roof is crowned with a little cupola or 
 steeple, a common thing upon the old seats of rich pro- 
 
 30 prietors of Virginia, and the building itself is two stories 
 in hight. The portion nearest the river, and which is 
 fronted with a light piazza, is an addition which was 
 made to the mansion by the general. By this arrange- 
 ment the beauty of the whole must have been much in- 
 
 35 creased. The style of the work, and the painting, have 
 the effect of a freestone front ; and though there is noth- 
 ing imposing or grand in the appearance of the house, 
 still there is an air of substance and comfort about it, that 
 after all is far more satisfying than magnificence. Send- 
 
 40 ing in our cards, bv an old servant, we were soon in-
 
 160 EXRKCUEd FART II. [Ex. 46. 
 
 vited to enter. Not having letters to Mr. W. the present 
 proprietor, who is n>w \. TV ill, we did not expect to aee 
 any of the family. A servant accordingly, at our re- 
 quest, merely accompanied us through the rooms made 
 
 45 interesting by the hallowed associations that can. 
 
 :i us as we traveled them. In tin- hall orentiv, 
 hangs, in a glass case, the key of the I .. in. h 
 
 every body has heard of. It was presented to Wa-h- 
 iiiLTton by La: l'nd-r it is a picture .l" ti, , 
 
 50 nowned fortress. This key i> by no means formidable 
 for its size, being about as large as a bank key, and of 
 a shape by no means mysterious enough fur a disserta- 
 tion. The only curious portion of it, is that grasped by 
 the hand in turning. It is solid and of an oval shape, 
 
 55 and appeared to me, for I always love to be curious in 
 these matters. to have been broken, on a time, and then 
 soldered or 1 fin. It probably had some hard 
 
 wrenches in its day. On the whole it appeared to be a 
 very amiable key, and by no means equal to all the turns 
 
 60 it must have seen in the Revolution. 
 
 We ^ hown into a small room, which was set 
 
 apart as the study of Washington. Here lie was wont to 
 transact all his business of his retirement. It 
 
 was hung with pictures and en^ravini^ of revolutionary 
 
 05 events ; and among the miniatures was one of himself, 
 said to be the best likeness ever taken. Another room 
 was shown us, which had nothing remarkable about it, 
 and we then passed into a larger one, finished with great 
 taste, and containing a portrait of .lud^e \\ 
 
 70 A beautiful organ stood in the corner, and the fireplace 
 was adorned by a mantel of m..st splendid workmanship. 
 in bass-relief. It is of Italian marble, and was presented 
 to Washington \>\ . Th p.irt <>f <>ur \, -it was 
 
 soon over. There was little to see in the house, and 
 
 75 the portions referred to weir- all to which we were admit- 
 ted. I could not help admiring, however, the neatness 
 and air of antiquity i which distinguished the 
 
 several rooms through whi<-h we passed. Ti.. re was 
 something, ;iKo, fanciful in their at raii'jemi lit, that \\ as 
 
 80 quite pleasing to my uore so than the mathe- 
 
 ical exactness of modern and mor< 
 
 Passing from the house. .-id m ^lectcd path- 
 
 way, and then over a little broken, but alread 
 ground, we came to an open space, nnd found ourselves
 
 Ex. 46.] EXERCISES. PART II. 161 
 
 85 standing before the humble tomb of*Greorge Washington. 
 It was a happy moment to visit the spot. There was 
 something in the time, fortunate for the feelings. The 
 very elements seemed in accordance with the season. 
 The day was beautiful the sunlight was streaming full 
 
 90 upon the trees round about, and glowing witli a mellow 
 beam upon the grave ; the place was quiet and imbo- 
 somed, and the only sound that we heard, save that of 
 our own hearts, was the voice of the wind through the 
 pines, or of the waters as they broke upon the shore be- 
 
 95 low us. Who can analyze his feelings as he stands before 
 that sepulchre ! Who can tell the story of his associa- 
 tions, or do any justice by his tongue or his pen to the 
 emotions which the memories of the past awaken there ! 
 The history of a whole country is overpowering him at 
 
 100 once. Its struggle its darkness its despair its vic- 
 tory rush upon him. Its gratitude, its glory, and its loss, 
 pass before him and in a few moments he lives through 
 an age of interest and wonder. Strange power of human 
 mind ! What an intimation does this rapid communion 
 
 105 with the past, and with the spirits of the past, give, at 
 once, of their immortality and our own ! But it is vain to 
 follow out these feelings here. They would fill volumes. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 There is no inscription upon the tomb. The simple 
 words "WASHINGTON FAMILY," chiseled in granite, sur- 
 mount the plain brick work. The masonry was originally 
 wretched, and the plaster is now falling from it. The 
 5 door is well secured, and of iron. There is a total ab- 
 sence of every thing like parade or circumstance about the 
 resting-place of the Hero. He sleeps there in the midst 
 of the very simplicities of mrture. Laurel trees wave 
 over his dust, on every side, and the pilgrim who goes to 
 
 10 stand by his grave, finds no careful inclosure to forbid his 
 too near approach. In short, Washington rests in an 
 obscurity just that obscurity which he would have 
 chosen, but which seems hardly compatible with the vast 
 gratitude and deep reverence of a great country. 
 
 15 As we were standing upon this spot, a couple of span- 
 iels came bounding along, and following close, was an 
 old servant of the family, and formerly a slave of Wash- 
 ington. On examining him, we found he was born on 
 the place, and recollected his master, and all he said;
 
 162 EXEECISE*. PART II. [Ex. 46, 47 
 
 20 with great dibtiactn- M Jit- was a very aged negro, and 
 quite gi 
 
 I found then- was sometlii ;athered from 
 
 ancient of the family and acconlin: 
 ing upon the broken LT.II-, which swun^ In-fore the door 
 of the old tomb, put him in the train, 
 " In front of the new grave-place, yonder," said he, " lie 
 buried a hundred people of color." These, it seenx -d, 
 were slaves of the plantation, who from time to time had 
 died here. He spok- of the ^reut kindness of Washing- 
 
 30 ton, and his emancipating a hundred of his people. 
 His wife did the same," added he. There were now, 
 he said, but about fifteen attached to the establishment. 
 Passing from one thing to another without much connec- 
 tion, he went on to-.- .M_' t<- Washington "I 
 
 35 never see that man lau^h to t-ho.. !i he done all 
 
 hi$ laughing inside." This I thought worth a page of 
 description. We then recurred to Lafr -it in 
 
 1825. " We were obliged to tote him all about," sai.l he 
 by which I understood that the general was so over- 
 
 40 come, that he was literally supported by the arms of at- 
 U-ndants. I inquired how h- appeared at the tomb. 
 "He cried like a little infant." "Did he go in?" I 
 asked. " yes he went in, sir alone and he made a 
 in'njhty long talk tficre but I don't know what it was 
 
 45 about." All these little things were jewels. I loved to 
 hear such simple narrations, from such a source, and it 
 was with reluctance I turned awav, after gathering a 
 relic or two, and followed our old guide up to the house 
 again. But we had seen all that we could see, and after 
 
 60 glancing at the garden and greenhouse, which appeared 
 in all the coming beauty "f spring, and turning one more 
 ni.-lanrholy gaze upon the Cluster of buildings, which had 
 once been improved \,\ tin- icn-nt One who now slept in 
 their shadow, we entered our carriage, and rode slowly 
 .y from Mount Vernon. 
 
 r.xr.unsK -n. 
 
 Dtttruction of t - of Jerusalem, by fire, under 
 
 Titus. Mm 
 
 lli i.f August, the day already darkened 
 in the Jewish calendar by the destruction of the former
 
 Ex. 47.] EXERCISES. PART II. . 163 
 
 temple, by the King of Babylon : it was almost passed. 
 Titus withdrew again into Antonia; intending the next 
 5 morning to make a general assault. The quiet summer 
 evening came on ; the setting sun shone for the last time 
 on the snow-white walls, and glistening pinnacles of the 
 temple roof. Titus had retired to rest ; when suddenly 
 a wild and terrible cry was heard, and a man came 
 
 10 rushing in, announcing that the temple was on fire. 
 Some of the besieged, notwithstanding the repulse in the 
 morning, had sallied out to attack the men who were 
 busily employed in extinguishing the fires about the 
 cloisters. The Romans not merely drove them back, 
 
 15 but entering the sacred space with them, forced their 
 way to the temple. A soldier, without orders, mounted 
 on the shoulders of one of his comrades, threw a blazing 
 brand into a gilded small door, on the north side of the 
 chambers, in the outer building or porch. The flames 
 
 20 sprung up at once. The Jews uttered one simultaneous 
 shriek, and grasped their swords with a furious determi- 
 nation of revenging and perishing in the ruins of the 
 temple. Titus rushed down with the utmost speed ; he 
 shouted, he made signs to his soldiers to quench the 
 
 25 fires ; his voice was drowned, and his signs unnoticed, in 
 the blind confusion. The legionaries either could not, 
 or would not hear ; they rushed on, trampling each other 
 down in their furious haste, or stumbling over the crumb- 
 ling ruins, perished with the enemy. Each exhorted the 
 
 30 other, and each hurled his blazing brand into the inner 
 part of the edifice ; and then hurried to the work of car- 
 nage. The unarmed and defenceless people were slain in, 
 thousands ; they lay heaped, like sacrifices, round the 
 altar ; the steps of the temple ran with streams of blood, 
 
 35 which washed down the bodies that lay about. 
 
 Titus found it impossible to check the rage of the sol- 
 diery ; he entered with his officers, and surveyed the in- 
 terior of the sacred edifice. The splendor filled them 
 with wonder; and as the flames had not yet penetrated 
 
 40 to the holy place, he made a last effort to save it, and 
 springing forth, again exhorted the soldiers to stay the 
 progress of the conflagration. The centurion Liberalis 
 endeavored to enforce obedience with his staff of office ; 
 but even respect for the Emperor gave way to the furi- 
 
 45 ous animosity against the Jews, to the fierce excitement
 
 164 KXEKCI8E9 PAET II. [Ex. 47. 
 
 of battle, and to tin- insatiable hope <,f plunder. Tin- 
 soldiers saw every tiling around them radiant with gold, 
 which .shone da/./.lingly in tin- wild light of tin- llanio : 
 they supposed that incalculable treas-. laid up in 
 
 60 the sanctuary. A soldier, unp-p-i-i\.-d. thrust a lighted 
 torcli between the hinges of tin- door; (he whole build- 
 ing was in Humes in an instant. The blinding - 
 fire forced the oflicers to retreat ; ami the liable edifice 
 was left to its fate. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 It was an appalling spectacle to the Roman what 
 was it to the Jew? The whole summit of the hill, which 
 commanded the city, blazed like a volcano. One after 
 another the buildings fell in, with a tn-niem! 
 5 and were swallowed up in the fiery aby>-. The r 
 
 cedar were like sheets of flame ; the gilded pinnacles 
 shone like spikes of red light; the gate towers sent up 
 tall columns of flame and smoke. Tl. Ting 
 
 hills were lighted up; and dark group* of people were 
 
 10 seen watching in horrible, anxiety tin- progress of the 
 destruction : the walls and heights of the upper city were 
 crowded with face-,, some pale with the agony of de- 
 others scowling unavailing vengeance. The shouts of the 
 Roman soldiery, as they ran to and fro, and the bowlings 
 
 15 of the insurgent:, who were perishing in the l lames, 
 mingled with the roaring of the conflagration and the 
 thundering sound of falling timbers. The echoes of the 
 mountains replied, or brought back the shrieks of the 
 people on the bights: all along the walls, resound, d 
 
 20 screams and -men, who were with 
 
 famine, rallied their remaining strength to utter a cry of 
 anguish and desolation. 
 
 liter within v, .idful than 
 
 from without. Men and women, old and 
 
 25 youii nts and who fought and 
 
 those who eiiirv.-ued jiieiv\. wire hewn down in indis- 
 criminate carnage. 'H 
 
 that of the id to cla: 
 
 30 tion. John, al iris troop- 
 
 way through, first into the outer court of tl. 
 afterwards into th< . v. Some of the priesta
 
 Ex. 47, 48.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 165 
 
 upon the roof wrenched off the gilded spikes, with their 
 sockets of lead, and used them as missiles against the 
 
 35 Romans below. Afterwards they fled to a part of the 
 
 wall, about fourteen feet wide : they were summoned to 
 
 surrender ; but two of them, Mair, son of Belgo, and 
 
 Joseph, son of Dalia, plunged headlong into the flames. 
 
 No part escaped the fury of the Romans. The treas- 
 
 40 uries, with all their wealth of money, jewels, and costly 
 robes the plunder which the zealots had laid up were 
 totally destroyed. Nothing remained but a small part of 
 the outer cloister, in which 6000 unarmed and defence- 
 less people, with women and children, had taken refuge. 
 . These poor wretches, like multitudes of others, had been 
 led up to the temple by a false prophet, who had pro- 
 claimed that God commanded all the Jews to go up to 
 the temple, where he Avould display his Almighty power 
 to save his people. The soldiers set fire to the building, 
 
 50 and every soul perished. 
 
 EXERCISE 48. 
 The Charnel Ship. CHARLESTON COURIER. 
 
 1 The night the long dark night at last 
 
 Pass'd fearfully away. 
 'Mid crashing ice, and howling blast, 
 
 They hail'd the dawn of day, 
 Which broke to cheer the whaler's crew, 
 And wide around its gray light threw. 
 
 2 The storm had ceased its wrath had rent 
 
 The icy wall asunder 
 And many a piercing glance they sent 
 
 Around in awe and wonder 
 And sailor hearts their rude praise gave, 
 To God, that morn, from o'er the wave. 
 
 3 The breeze blew freshly, and the Sun 
 
 Pour'd his full radiance far, 
 On heaps of icy fragments won 
 
 Sad trophies in the past night's war 
 Of winds and waters and in piles, 
 Now drifted by, bright shining Isles. 
 
 4 But lo ! still farther off appears 
 
 A form more dim and dark ;
 
 106 RCISE3 I'AKT 11. El. 48.] 
 
 And anxious eyes, and hopes, and fears, 
 
 Its slow, strange progress mark ; 
 As it moves tow'rds them by tlie breeze 
 Borne onward from more Northern Seas. 
 
 5 Near, and more near and can it be, 
 
 (More vent'ruus than their uwn.) 
 A Ship, whose seeming glm>t they see, 
 
 Among those Icebergs thruwn ; 
 With broken masts, dismantled all, 
 And dark sails, like a funeral pall ? 
 
 6 ( ) " God of the Mariner ! protect 
 
 Her inmates as she moves along, 
 Through perils which, ere now, had wreck'd 
 
 But that thine arm is strong." 
 () Ha ! she has struck she grounds she stands 
 Still as if held by giant hands. 
 
 1 " Quick, man the boat /" away they sprang, 
 
 The stranger ship to aid ; 
 And loud their hailing voices rang, 
 
 And rapid speed they made : 
 But all in silence, deep, unbroke, 
 The vessel stood none answering spoke. 
 
 g 'Twas fearful not a sound arose 
 
 No moving thing was there, 
 To interrupt the dread repose 
 
 Which fill'd each heart with fear ; 
 On deck they silent stepp'd, and sought, 
 'Till one, a man, their sad sight caught. 
 
 f He was alone the damp, chill mould 
 
 Of years hung on his cl. 
 A pen in his hand had meekly told 
 
 The tale n<> iWtv might speak : 
 " Seventy days," the record stood, 
 Had they been in the ice, and wanted food." 
 
 10 They took his book, and turn'd away, 
 
 But soon discover'd where 
 The wife, in her death-sleep, gently lay, 
 ir him, in life most dear 
 
 rt's pride. 
 Long years before had calmly died.
 
 Ex. 48, 49.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 167 
 
 11 Oh, wedded love ! how beautiful, 
 
 How pure a thing thou art : 
 Whose influence even in death can rule, 
 
 And triumph o'er the heart ; 
 Can cheer life's roughest walk, and shed 
 A holy light around the dead. 
 
 12 There was a solemn, sacred feeling 
 
 Kindled in every breast ; 
 And softly from the cabin stealing, 
 
 They left" them to their rest 
 The fair, the young, the constant pair, 
 They left them with a blessing there : 
 
 13 And to their boat returning, each 
 
 With thoughtful brows and haste, 
 And o'ercharged hearts, too full for speech, 
 
 Left 'midst the frozen waste, 
 That Charnel Ship, which years before, 
 Had sail'd from distant Albion's shore. 
 
 14 They left her in the icebergs, where 
 
 Few venture to intrude ; 
 A monument of death and fear, 
 
 'Mid Ocean's solitude ! 
 And, grateful for their own release, 
 Thank'd God, and sought their homes in peace. 
 
 EXERCISE 49. 
 Life. A Spanish Poem. EDINBURGH REVIEW. 
 
 1 Oh ! while we eye the rolling tide, 
 Down which our flowing minutes glide 
 
 Away so fast ; 
 
 Let us the present hour employ, 
 And deem each future dream a joy 
 
 Already past. 
 
 2 Let no vain hope deceive the mind 
 No happier let us hope to find, 
 
 To-morrow than to-day ; 
 Our golden dreams of yore were bright, 
 Like them the present shall delight 
 
 Like them decay.
 
 108 r AKT ii. [Ex. 40, 60. 
 
 3 Our lives like ha.-ling streams must be, 
 That into one ingulfing sea, 
 
 An- doom'd to fall 
 The sea of death, wlio>e waves roll on, 
 O'er king and kingdom, crown and throne, 
 
 And swallow all. 
 
 4 Alike the river's lordly I 
 Alike the humble riv'lets glide 
 
 To that sad v.i 
 
 Death levels poverty and pride, 
 And rich and poor sleep side by side 
 
 Within tl 
 
 5 Our birth is but a starting place ; 
 Life is the running of tin- i. 
 
 And death the. goal ; 
 
 There all those glittering toys are brought, 
 That path alone, of all unsought, 
 
 Is found of nil. 
 
 6 Say then, how poor and little worth 
 Are all those glittering toys of earth, 
 
 That lure us here ? 
 
 Dreams of a sleep that death must break, 
 Alas ! before it bids us wake, 
 
 Ye disappear ! 
 
 EXERCISE 60. 
 Death and the Drunkard. ANONYMOUS. 
 
 His form was fair, his check was health ; 
 
 His word a bond, his pur ilth ; 
 
 With wheat his field was cover'd o'er, 
 
 1'lcnty sat smiling at his door. 
 
 His wile the fount of ceaseless j"V ; 
 
 How laugh'd his daughter, play'd his boy ', 
 
 His library, though i 
 
 Till half its coi 
 
 At morn 'twas health, wealth, pure delight, 
 
 'Twas health, \\ealdi, p.-a. s at night; 
 
 I wish'd not to disturb liis bliw 
 
 Tis gone ! but all the fault WM hi*.
 
 50. J EXERCISES. PART II. 169 
 
 2 The social glass I saw him seize, 
 The more with festive wit to please, 
 Daily increase his love of cheer 
 Ah, little thought he / was near ! 
 Gradual indulgence on him stole, 
 Frequent became the midnight bowl. 
 I in that bowl the licadache placed, 
 Which, with the juice, his lips embraced. 
 Shame next I mingled with the draught ; 
 Indignantly he drank and laugh'd. 
 
 3 In the bowl's bottom bankruptcy 
 
 I placed he drank with tears and glee. 
 
 Remorse did I into it pour ; 
 
 He only sought the bowl the more. 
 
 I mingled next joint torturing pain 
 
 Little the less did he refrain. 
 
 The dropsy in the cup I mix'd ; 
 
 Still to his mouth the cup was fix'd. 
 
 My emissaries thus in vain 
 
 I sent the mad wretch to restrain. 
 
 4 On the bowl's bottom then myself 
 I threw ; the most abhorrent elf 
 Of all that mortals hate or dread ; 
 And thus in Sorrid whispers said 
 " Successless ministers I've sent, 
 Thy hastening ruin to prevent ; 
 
 Their lessons nought then here am I ; 
 Think not my threat'nings to defy. 
 Swallow this, this thy last 'twill be, 
 For with it thou must swallow me" 
 
 5 Haggard his eyes, upright his hair, 
 Remorse his lips, his cheeks despair, 
 With shaking hand the bowl he clasp'd, 
 My meatless limbs his carcass grasp'd 
 And bore it to the church-yard where 
 Thousands, ere I would call, repair. 
 
 6 Death speaks ah, reader, dost thou hear ? 
 Hast thou no lurking cause to fear ? 
 
 Has not o'er thee the sparkling bowl 
 Constant, commanding, sly control 1
 
 170 EXKRCI8KS. PAET II. [Ex. 50, 51. 
 
 Betimes reflect, betimes beware 
 Though ruddy, lit althful now and fair, 
 Before slow reason lose the sway, 
 Reform postponed another day, 
 Too soon may mix with comi; 
 
 KXKKCISi: 51. 
 Tht Playue in Lomlon. KOIUKI 
 
 In its malignancy, it engrossed the ill of all other mala- 
 dies, and made doctors despicable. Of a potency equal 
 to death, it possessed itself of all his armories, Mid was 
 itself the death of every other mortal distemper. The 
 5 touch, yea, the \ of the infected, was deadly; 
 
 and its signs were so sudden, that families seated in hap- 
 piness at their meals, have seen th<- plague spot begin 
 to redden, and have wildly scattered themselves forever. 
 The cement of society was dissolved by it. Mothers, 
 
 10 when they saw the sign- of the infection on the babes at 
 their bosom, cast them from them with abhorrence. 
 Wild places were sought for shelter ; some went into 
 ships and anchored themselves afar off on the waters. 
 But the angel that was pouring the vi^l had a foot on the 
 
 15 sea, as well as on the dry land. No place was so wild, 
 that the plague did not visit none so secret, that the 
 quick-sighted pestilence did not discover, none could fly 
 that it did not overtake. 
 
 It was as if Heaven had, repented the making of man- 
 
 20 kind, and was shoveling them all into the sepulchre. 
 Justice was forgotten.^and her courts deserted. The 
 terrified jailers fled from the felons that Were in fetters 
 the innocent and the guilty leagued themselves together, 
 and kept within t! .Trass grew 
 
 25 in the mark Me went moaning up and 
 
 down tl of their 
 
 ;>e,rs; the rooks and the ravens came into the towns, 
 
 and built th'-ir nests in the mute belfries ; silence was 
 
 universal, save when s<>me infected wretch was seen 
 
 30 clamoring at a window. 
 
 Fora time all commerce was in coffins and shrouds;
 
 Ex. 51.] KXERCISKS. PART II. 171 
 
 but even that ended. Shrift there was none; churches 
 and chapels were open, but neither priest nor peni- 
 tent entered ; all went to the charnel house. The sex- 
 
 85 ton and the physician were cast into the same deep and 
 wide grdve ; the testator and his heirs and executors 
 were hurled from the same cart into the same hole to- 
 gether. Fire became extinguished, as if it* element 
 too had expired : the seams of the sailorless ship yawn- 
 
 40 ed to the sun. Though doors were open, and coffers 
 unwatched, there was no theft; all offences ceased, and 
 no calamity but the universal woe of the pestilence was 
 heard among men. The wells overflowed, and the con- 
 duits ran to waste ; the dogs banded themselves together, 
 
 45 having lost their masters, and ran howling over all the 
 land ; horses perished of famine in their stalls ; old friends 
 but looked at one another when they met, keeping them- 
 selves far aloof ; creditors claimed no debts, and courtiers 
 performed their promises ; little children went wander- 
 
 50 ing up and down, and numbers were seen dead in all 
 corners. Nor was it only in England that the plague so 
 raged : it traveled over a third part of -the whole earth, 
 like the shadow of an eclipse, as if some dreadful thing 
 had been interposed between the world and the sun- 
 
 55 source of life. 
 
 * * * At that epoch, for a short time, there was 
 a silence, and every person in the street, for a moment 
 stood still ; London was as dumb as a church-yard. Again 
 the sound of a bell was heard ; for it was that sound, so 
 
 60 long unheard, which arrested the fugitive multitude, 
 and caused their silence. At the third toll a universal 
 shout arose, as when the herald proclaims the tidings of 
 a great battle won, and then there was a second silence. 
 The people fell on their knees, and with anthems of 
 
 65 thankfulness rejoiced in the dismal sound of that tolling 
 death-bell ; for it was a signal of the plague being so 
 abated that men might again mourn for their friends, 
 and hallow their remains with the solemnities of burial.
 
 i.*. - FAT 11 [E.t. M. 
 
 sa. 
 
 Battle of Borodino. A .\osvnots. 
 
 The niu'ht passed slowly over the wakeful heads of the 
 impatient combatants. The- morning of the 7th of 
 September at length broke. and thousands beheld the 
 dawn for the last time. The moment was arrived, when 
 5 the dreadful discharge of two thousand cannon was to 
 break th- of expectation, and arouse at once all 
 
 the horrors of war. General as the attack seemed, the 
 corps of rrintv Narration had to sustain the accumulat 
 id weight of nearly half the Krem-h array; and the de- 
 
 10 termination shown by its cavalry was BO desperate, that 
 they charged up to the mouth of the Russian guns. 
 Whole regiments of them, both horses and men, were 
 swept down by the cannon shot; and all along the front 
 of Bagration's line, arose a breast-work of dead and dy- 
 
 15 ing. Napoleon ordered up 6fty additional pieces of ar- 
 tillery, and a fresh division of infantry, with several reg- 
 iments of dragooi new force rushed on, over 
 
 the bodies of their fallen countrymen, and did not allow 
 themselves to be cheeked until they reached the para- 
 
 20 pets of the Russian works. Their vigorous onset over- 
 turned with 6erce sla that opposed 
 
 them, and obliged ri to fall back nearer to the 
 
 second lin-' ! the army. The rage < :t this cri- 
 
 sis i- f>od. The thunder of a thousand 
 
 _25 pieces of artillery was answered by the discharge of an 
 eqnal number on the part of the Russians. A veil of 
 smoke shut out the c s from the sun, and left 
 
 them no other light t work of death than 
 
 the flashes of musketry, which blazed in every 
 
 30 The sabres of 40,000 dragoons met each other, and 
 clashed in the horrid gloom ; and the bristling poi: 
 countless bay the rolling vapor, 
 
 strewed the earth with heaps of si 
 
 Such was the scene for an extent of many wersts, aad 
 
 85 the dreadful con : without cessation until 
 
 the darkness of the night. This closed that memorable 
 day, and with it terminated thousand 
 
 human beings. The horses which lay on the ground, 
 from right to left, numbered full 25,000.
 
 Ex. 93, 98,] EXERtSE3. PART II. 178 
 
 40 The next day, says Labaume, very early in the room- 
 ing, we returned to the field of battle. In the space of 
 a square league, almost every spot was covered with the 
 killed and wounded. On many places, the bursting of 
 the shells had promiscuously heaped together men and 
 
 45 horses. 
 
 But the most horrid spectacle was the interior of the 
 ravines , almost all the wounded, who were able to drag 
 themselves along, had taken refuge there, to avoid the 
 shot. These miserable wretches, heaped one upon an- 
 
 50 other, and almost suffocated with blood, uttering the 
 most dreadful groans, and invoking death with piercing 
 cries, eagerly besought us to put an end to their tor- 
 ments. 
 
 EXERCISE 53. 
 Shipwreck. FREDERICKSBURG ARENA. 
 
 In the winter of 1825 Lieutenant G , of the 
 
 United States Navy, with his beautiful wife (the most 
 lovely female my eyes- ever beheld) and infant child, 
 embarked in a packet at Norfolk, bound to South Caro- 
 5 lina. 'Tis true the weather was extremely cold, but as 
 the wind was favorable, this mode of getting to their 
 friends was not considered more hazardous, than the 
 same trip by stages through the swamps and sands of 
 the Carolinas. Besides, the vessel in which they sailed 
 
 10 was a well known and popular trader, and had never 
 encountered an accident in making her numerous voy- 
 ages. For the first day and night after their departure, 
 the wind continued fair, and the weather clear ; but on 
 the evening of the second day, they being then in sight 
 
 15 of the coast of North Carolina, a severe gale sprung up 
 from the northward and westward, and towards mid- 
 night, the Captain judging himself much farther from the 
 land than he really was, and dreading the Gulf stream, 
 hauled in for the coast ; but with the intention, it is 
 
 20 presumed, of lying to, when he supposed himself clear 
 
 of the Gulf. Lieut. G did not approve of the 
 
 Captain's determination to stand in for the land, and the 
 result proved that his objections were well founded ; for 
 about four A. M. the vessel grounded. Vain would it be
 
 174 BXBHC13ES. PART II. E.X. 53. 
 
 25 to attempt a description of the horror which was depict- 
 ed : .wt'ul shock, occa- 
 sioned by tli fssel's bottom, was first 
 
 rienced. The 
 known only to those \\h 
 
 30 wrecked. None others can have a toforabfo ]<: 
 what passed in the mi; 
 
 <J with vacair uents, 
 and felt that their frail bark must sooi - the 
 next thump, be dashed to pieces, and they left at the 
 
 35 mercy of the_ billows, with not even a plank b 
 
 themselves and eternity ! First comes the thumping 
 of the vessel next t. .ng of the raging surge 
 
 over her sides then the receding for an f the 
 
 waves, causing the vessel to careen on her K am-eml.- 
 
 40 and lastly, the crashing of the spars and timbers by the 
 returning rollers the whole exhibiting a scene of con- 
 fusion and horror, of which the most vivid language 
 could afford but a cold and faint picture. But awful as 
 this is, cheerless as are the shipwrecked sailor's pros- 
 
 45 pects, what are his feelings compared to the agony of a 
 fond husband and father, who - ; embrace 
 
 his little world, his beloved hild ! 
 
 Although conscious of the hopelessness of his situa- 
 tion that to remain by th' 'vas death ! and to 
 
 50 seek the shore, which, now that the day began to dawn, 
 
 had become visible, was scarcely . still 
 
 every feeling of his noble nature prompted him to action. 
 
 friend was a seaman, anil a brave one: accustomed 
 
 to danger, and quick in seizing up s of 
 
 55 rescuing the unfortunate. lUu ><'r. whu were the un- 
 d upon him for who were 
 
 . louder than ti 
 .id which no human j 
 could afford them? Hi- "it" and child! <>' 1 
 
 60 rending agony! But why attempt to describe what few- 
 can imagine! Tl. 
 
 amplification. In a word, then, th- hich 
 
 rr>uld be got at was n Mrs. 
 
 (i and child, and its nuix-.w. into it 
 
 65 it was the thought The 
 
 too much. Mr. G saw thk and knew 
 
 that tho addition of himself would diminish the chances
 
 Ex. 58, 54.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 175 
 
 of the boat reaching the shore "in safety ; and much as 
 he deplored the necessity horrible as was the alterna- 
 
 70 tive he himself gave the order ; " Push off, and make 
 
 for the land, my brave lads !" the lost words which 
 
 ever passed his lips ! The order was obeyed ; but ere 
 
 the little boat had proceeded fifty yards, (about half the 
 
 - distance to the beach,) it was struck on the quarter by a 
 
 75 roller, capsized, and boat, passengers, and all, enveloped, 
 for a time, in the angry surge ! The wretched husband 
 saw but too distinctly what seemed to be the destruc- 
 tion of all that he held dear ! But here, alas, and for- 
 ever, were shut out from him all sublunary prospects ! 
 
 80 He fell upon the deck powerless senseless A CORPSE ! 
 the victim of a sublime sensibility ! But what became 
 of the unhappy wife and child ? The answer shall be 
 
 brief ; Mrs. G was borne through the breakers 
 
 to the shore, by one of the brave sailors ; the nurse was 
 
 85 thrown upon the beach, with the drowned infant grasped 
 
 in her arms. The nurse survived. Mrs. G was 
 
 taken to a hut senseless continued delirious many days, 
 but finally recovered her senses, and with them a con- 
 sciousness of the awful catastrophe which in a moment 
 
 90 made her A CHILDLESS WIDOW. 
 
 EXERCISE 54. 
 The Bucket. A Cold Water Song. WOODWORTH. 
 
 1 How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood ! 
 
 When fond recollection presents them to view ; 
 The orchard, the meadow, the deep tangled wild-wood, 
 
 And every loved spot which my infancy knew : 
 The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, 
 
 The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell ; 
 The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, 
 
 And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well : 
 The old oaken bucket the iron-bound bucket 
 The moss-cover'd bucket which hung in the well. 
 
 2 That moss-covcr'd vessel I hail as a treasure 
 
 For often at noon, when return'd from the field, 
 I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, 
 The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
 
 176 t \LRCISK3. fABT II. [Kx. 1 
 
 How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing, 
 
 And (juii-k t-> th<- white pebbled lxtt<>rn it : 
 Then .soon, with tin- -mblena of truth overflowing, 
 And dripping with coolness, it r -U : 
 
 The old oaken bucket th- imn-U.mnd bucket 
 The-moss cover'd bucket arose from the well. 
 
 3 How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, 
 
 As poised on .1 to my 1: 
 
 Not a full, blushing g- I tempt me to leave il, 
 
 Though fill'd with the nectar that Jupiter sips. 
 And now, far removed from that loved situation, 
 
 The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
 As fancy reverts to my father's plantation, 
 
 And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well : 
 The old oaken bucket the iron-bound bucket 
 The moss-cover'd bucket, which bangs in the well. 
 
 EXERCISE 55. 
 Anecdote of Judge Marshall. WINCHESTER REPFBLICAN. 
 
 It is not long since a gentleman was traveling in one 
 of the counties of Virginia, and about the close of the 
 day stopped at a public' house, to obtain refreshment and 
 spend the night, lie had been there but a short time, 
 5 before an old man alighted from his gig, with the apparent 
 intention of becoming his fellow- he same house. 
 
 As the old mun drove up, he observed that both the shafts 
 of bis gig were broken, and that they were held to^< 
 by withes formed from the bark of a hickory sapling. 
 
 10 Our traveler observed further, that he was plainly clad, 
 that his kn .uid that something 
 
 lik^ negligence pervaded his dress. Con ..into 
 
 be one of the \\\. \r land, the court 
 
 sies of strangers passe.; them, ami tl 
 
 15 the tavern. It was about the same time that an addition 
 of t 5 made to their num- 
 
 ber mo --m, of tli- 1- 
 
 As soon as they 
 the OOttYeiMtioa was turned bv on.- of the latter upon 
 
 20 an eloquent harangue which ha<i played 
 
 at the bar. It was n-plifd by th'- other, that he had 
 I th'- plonu6TM*c, no doubt
 
 Ex. 55.] EXERCISES. PART II. 177 
 
 equal, but that it was from the pulpit. Something like 
 a sarcastic rejoinder was made to the eloquence of the 
 25 pulpit ; and a warm and able altercation ensued, in which 
 the merits of the Christian religion became the subject 
 of discussion. From six o'clock, until eleven, the young 
 champions wielded the swor,d of argument, adducing 
 with ingenuity and ability every thing that could be said 
 30 pro and con. During this protracted period, the old 
 gentleman listened with all the meekness and modesty 
 of a child: as if he was adding new information to 
 the stores of his own mind ; or perhaps he was ob- 
 serving with philosophic eye the faculties of the youth- 
 35 ful mind, and how new energies are evolved by repeated 
 action ; or, perhaps, with patriotic emotion, he was 
 reflecting upon the future destinies of his country, and on 
 the rising generation upon whom these future destinies 
 must devolve ; or, most probably, with a sentiment 
 40 of moral and religious feeling, he was collecting an 
 argument which, (characteristic of himself,) no art 
 would be " able to elude, and no force to resist." Our 
 traveler remained a spectator, and took no part in what 
 was said. 
 
 45 At last, one of the young men, remarking that it was 
 impossible to combat with long and established preju- 
 dices, wheeled around", and with some familiarity, ex- 
 claimed, " Well, my old gentleman, what think you of 
 these things ?" If, said the traveler, a streak of vivid 
 50 lightning had at that moment crossed the room, their 
 amazement could not have been greater than it was 
 with what followed. The most eloquent and unanswer- 
 able appeal was made for nearly an hour, by the old 
 gentleman, that he ever heard or read. So perfect was 
 55 his recollection, that every argument urged against the 
 Christian religion was met in the order in which it was 
 advanced. Hume's sophistry on the subject of miracles, 
 was, if possible, more perfectly answered, than it had 
 already been done by Campbell. And in the whole 
 60 lecture there was so much simplicity and energy, pathos 
 and sublimity, that not another word was uttered. An 
 attempt to describe it, said the traveler, would be an 
 attempt to paint the sunbeams. It was now a matter of 
 curiosity and inquiry, Avho the old gentleman was. The 
 C5 traveler concluded that it was the preacher from whom
 
 178 BXBKCIflK.4. PART II. 
 
 pulpit eloquence was beard but no it was the 
 CHIKF JUSTICE OK THK UNITED STATES. 
 
 I:\I:KCISI: se. 
 
 The First and Last Ticket. ' .IPT OF A CRIMINAL. 
 
 1'AKl I. 
 
 My first ticket was a blank. I \v:is persuade.: 
 friend to buy it, who temp: .;> i<> view 
 
 the glittering prize, and exciting my obtaining 
 
 it. i was not disappointi-d -nil of my pur 
 
 ii although a curse involuntarily luirst from my lip- 
 
 i h'r.-t learned it. 1 hardly thought of drawing a high 
 pri/c, yet the possibili: _( .-o fortunate kept my 
 
 mind iu a constant, bin nt. I was a \ 
 
 man then, and could ill afford to lose the cost <>; 
 1Q tickn. Howevi-r, I comforted myself with the reflec- 
 tion, that experience must be paid for. I also made a 
 d ! rmination that I would not be so foolish again. I 
 kept it unbroken for >i\ months : yet all that time - 
 was a whispering in my ear " try . 
 
 ' J'irtHiuttt .' 1; 
 
 ms and I obeyed it. I Ixai-iit part of a ticket and 
 
 v live hundred. J had pre\i-iu*ly to this, being in a 
 
 good situation, and with every i "f doing well in 
 
 the world, engaged myself : ,. rti-n, a young lady 
 
 20 who liad long possessed my She was one 
 
 no, 1 >\ill not, I ran not speak of her as she 
 
 was. Well, shortly after my --..>d fortum I should 
 .-ay mi.yvrtunr 1 married her. I was considerably 
 
 d with my lii-'k, and Heated ~ freely. 
 
 1'j no( 
 urg. 
 
 t ,-, I ueii; O1 ding to return 
 
 in tl .n hour. Un 
 
 house, I passed a ! 
 30 uj'. and in the wr 
 
 schemes of chance, and im pun base. 1 had 
 
 tried my lurk siiu-e my maniage. and had Ljiven up 
 
 it [ p i>-ed by the \siin! office 
 
 my lollowing, in illuminated letters 
 
 35 and figures "$10,0' trill be heard from this
 
 Ex. 56.] EXERCISES. PART IF. 179' 
 
 night. Tickets $5." I hesitated a moment, then walked 
 on " Who knows but what I may get it ?" I 
 said to myself. I stopped turned about still hesitat- 
 ing "Try again," I heard, and retracing my steps, I 
 40 went into the office. A number of my acquaintances 
 were sitting there smoking. The vender gave me a 
 cigar, and after a while asked me if I should not like 
 to try my luck in the lottery, which he was expecting 
 every moment to hear from ; his clerk having gone out 
 45 to await the opening of the mail. So saying, he handed 
 me out a package of quarters, which lie prevailed on 
 me to take, and pay twenty-five dollars ; the price he sold 
 them at. The clerk soon after came in with the list of 
 the drawing ; and I left the office that evening, one 
 50 thousand dollars better off than when I entered. But 
 where for ? For home ? No for the tavern ; all went 
 for a treat. At midnight, I went home to my anxious, 
 sleepless wife, in a fit of intoxication, This was her first 
 experience. * * * 
 
 55 A week went by, and Eliza began to smile again. The 
 excitement I was in that night, she admitted as an ex- 
 cuse for my conduct. But she tenderly advised me, nay, 
 on her knees, in the stillness of our chamber, every night 
 she implored God to have me in his keeping, to pre- 
 60 serve me from temptation. I was ashamed of myself; 
 and I solemnly swore to abstain altogether from tickets. - 
 My wife was herself again. Months passed away ; a 
 charge was intrusted to my keeping a holy charge. I 
 was presented with a son. He took his father's name. 
 65 Thank God ! he will not bear his sorrows his shame ! 
 I was happy as man need be for a year. Business pros- 
 pered I enjoyed good health, and Avas blessed with a 
 happy home, where all was peace. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I said I was happy I was at times ; but there was a 
 secret thirst within me for riches and yet I was not 
 avaricious nor was I parsimonious. But the desire had 
 been awakened the -hope had been encouraged, that, by 
 5 venturing little, much might be had : and although by 
 lottery gambling, yet a burning thought of gain of gain 
 by lotteries agitated me day and night. In the day 
 time, when about my business, the thought that by ven-
 
 180 BBRi-l^U". - f AB1 II. [El. 50. 
 
 turning a few dollars 1 might draw enough to make me 
 
 10 independent -to allow me to live at ease, was 
 
 uppermost in my mind; uud cu-ry night I received a 
 large MUM -t" pri/.- n>n.-y. I strove to banish such 
 desires from my mind ; but they haunted me like an e\il 
 spirit. 
 
 15 About eighteen months after taking my oath, a grand 
 tcheme was advertised to be drawn on a certain day in 
 ray own town. 1 felt a strong propensity to try my 
 luck attain. I was importuned by friends t> buy 
 tickets the sche;- the- chance of success 
 
 20 was so great; but I thought <>t" the <>;ith I had taken, and 
 
 was firm in my denial. The day of drawing drew nigh. 
 
 \enderwho sold me the prize urged me t" take ;i 
 
 few tickets I was also urgi'd ly 11 in tho 
 
 presence of my wife, i'.ut 1 re>i>t<_-d it. She, tn, 
 
 25 me, said not a word she knew my oath was ]>' 
 
 she knew that 1 remembered it, and she had o.nii 
 denee in my keeping it sacred. She only gave a glance 
 of pleasure, it may be triumph. ml me : 
 
 my friend's invitation. That night 1 nat a par 
 
 30 ticular number would b- a fortunate out that I purchas- 
 ed it, and it eame uj< the highest pri/.e. When I arose in 
 the morning mv tirmne-,s was a little shaken it was tin- 
 day of < : A friend came into my store in the 
 
 forenoon, and me a parcel . . amongst 
 
 35 them 1 saw tlie numher of my <lrnn .' !!< otl'.-n d them 
 to me I forgot mvself I mocked my Gixl I 1 
 my oath : I did not May i:i the house at noon any longer 
 than to hurry through witli my dinner. My 
 presence was a burden to me : her happy smii 
 40 lite rful tones went to my heart like a 
 
 reproach. l-'n>m that day her : A.JS ,i curse to 
 
 me; not that I 1 ; had < iianged 
 
 but how could I stand before her. pcrjiir.-d as I was, 
 and she tin- \vh; 'iiUing my iiinocenct hyw 
 
 45 could I without feeling my unhol. \ thousand 
 
 times that forenoon did I resolve to seek my friend and 
 
 .in him ; did I luvak them. 
 
 heavily. Hut the prize, thought I, will 
 
 chc-> to think paltry gold would reconcile 
 
 bQ nn olfended (iod would buy oil' p:i. The 
 
 lotler\ w.u drawn that afternoon. i ,;ng I sat
 
 Ex. 56.] EXERCfSES. PART II. 181 
 
 alone with my wife in her room. She was talking of 
 the folly of some men, in not being contented with what 
 they possessed, and for being ever on the search for more. 
 
 55 " How many hearts have been agitated wound up to the 
 highest pitch, this afternoon, in hopes of drawing a prize," 
 said she. What could I do ? I was there, and had to 
 listen to her, although each word seemed like a burning 
 coal at my heart. She continued , 
 
 60 "And how many have spent that, which should have 
 gone for bread and clothing for their families and for 
 what ? For a vain hope of obtaining more ! for a piece 
 of mere colored paper! And think you, my husband, 
 there have been no vows violated, no oaths broken this 
 
 65 afternoon ?" I made no answer, and she went on " If 
 there are any such, and if they have been unfortunate, 
 how bitter must be their disappointment, and how doubly 
 keen their remorse ! Are you not, David, better pleased 
 with yourself this evening for not buying tickets 
 
 70 allowing you had not pledged your oath not to med- 
 dle with them than you would have been, had you pur- 
 chased them and made money by it?" Thus did the 
 woman talk to me, as though I were as pure and guilt- 
 less as herself. She knew not that at the moment her 
 
 75 words were like daggers to my heart that at every mo- 
 tion of her lips my soul writhed in agony ; she knew 
 not that my pocket-book was crammed with the accursed 
 tickets Hank tickets! And when she poured out her 
 soul in prayer that night, she knew not that he, for 
 
 80 whom she prayed, dared not listen to her words, but 
 stopped his ears. So it was. * * . * 
 
 "Do, my dear husband, stay at home, one evening 
 this week ! You shall read to me, or I will read to you ! 
 come, keep me company this evening." Thus said my 
 
 85 wife one evening, as she took me affectionately by the 
 arm, a tear at the same time filling her eye. Brute that 
 I was ! I shook her off repulsively, scarcely deigning 
 her a reply as I went out. I was an altered man my 
 innocence had departed from me I had perjured my- 
 
 90 self. My oath once broken, I still continued to break 
 it. Not a lottery was drawn but that I had some chance 
 in it. Ill luck attended me. Blanks blanks were my 
 portion. Still I kept on. Most of my hours were spent 
 in lottery offices. I neglected my business debts ac-
 
 168 EXERCISES PART II. [F.V. 56. 
 
 ;:nulated wants cam- up.n me : and I had nothing 
 to satisfy them witli but a hope a hope, that at th- 
 drawing I should ! hi, ky. As cares increased I went 
 to a tavern for relief. K :,awcd at my heart 
 
 like a worm. It had drank up all my happiness. When 
 
 100 I first broke my oath I thought gold would still m 
 
 science. Gold I had none, so 1 attempted to ease it by 
 strong drink. Hum burnt up my tender feelings my 
 better nature ; but it only added to the quenchless fire 
 that was raging at my heart. I uncommon for 
 
 105 me at this stage, to get int< a^ht. Oft have 
 
 I staggered home to my patient, dying Kliza for my 
 conduct was making sad inroads on a constitution natu- 
 rally delicate; and without a shadow of cause fell to 
 abusing her. What insult and misery has not that 
 
 110 woman endured ! and all brought on by me, her husband, 
 her protector! About this time our child died. 1 dare 
 not think of his death how it was brought on. 
 poor child miiht have lived limber perhaps he might 
 but he complained of 1 i sometimes, of wanting 
 
 115 clothes; and sometime* his cry for bread was vain. It 
 was a great shock to im \\ii-- ; and her gnidual failing, 
 day by day sobered me, and made me thoughtful. But 
 what had 1 to do with r< faction? The past was made 
 up of sharp points, and when 1 turned to it, I was 
 
 120 pierced! and the future what could 1 nntirijMte ? what 
 was there in store for me ? So I closed my ears shut 
 my heart to the starving condition of Kliza, and became, 
 a brute again. ****** 
 
 PAK, III. 
 
 It was in the evening of a wet, cloudy day, that I sal- 
 lied forth from my Ixmrdiri;,' hovel, to shame and sin, in 
 learn tin- fate of my /> n it. 1 had to 
 
 dispose of a Bible, which belonged to my late wife my 
 5 dead Kliza and which was tin- d\ r mo- 
 
 ther. It was the lat tiling that I held that had belonged 
 to her. One by I disposed of what litt 
 
 feet* she left, to reality my pas.sion for drinking and 
 ..bling. 1 had lost all leeling of shame. My wife 
 10 li >vo yean. 
 
 ick't I now had was to seal my fate. I had 
 fasted more than one dav to obtain means to
 
 Ex. 56.] KXERCISES. PART If. 183 
 
 it ; I had even stinted my drink for means, so strong 
 was my passion for gambling. Well, I went into the 
 
 15 office and called for the prize list. At a glance, I saw 
 my hopes were frustrated ; and crushing the list con- 
 vulsively in my hand, I muttered a deep oath and stalked 
 out of the office. That ticket indeed sealed my fate. 
 " The world owes me a living, and a living I will have !" 
 
 20 I said to myself, as I turned away with a despairing 
 heart, and walked up the street. My mind was suddenly 
 made up to a strong purpose. " There is money !" I 
 said between my teeth, as I sauntered along meditating 
 some desperate deed. I knew not the time of night ; 
 
 25 it was late however, for the stores were all closed, when 
 a man brushed by me. As he passed I saw it was the 
 vender of tickets the man who had sold me the first 
 and last ticket ! the man to whom I had paid dollar 
 after dollar, until all was gone. He had a trunk in his 
 
 30 hand, and was probably going home. " This man," 
 thought I, " has received from me even to the last far- 
 thing ; shall not I be justified in compelling him to re- 
 turn a part ? at least ought he not to be made to give me 
 something to relieve my misery to keep me from starv- 
 
 35 ing ?" Such was my reasoning, as I buttoned my jacket 
 and slowly followed him. Before reaching his house, 
 he had to pass over a lonely space, Avhere there were 
 no houses, and at that time of the night but little pass- 
 ing. He had gone over half this space, when I stepped 
 
 40 quickly and Avarily behind him ; and grasping with one 
 hand his collar and with the other his trunk, -in a gruff 
 voice demanded his money. The words were barely 
 uttered before I was grappled by the throat. He was a 
 strong man, and he had a dangerous hold. I put forth 
 
 45 all my strength to shake off his grasp, striking him at 
 the same time in the face and breast, but without avail 
 he still kept his hold. Finding that something decisive 
 must be done, for I could with difficulty breathe, I 
 clasped him round the middle, and giving him a sudden 
 
 50 jerk, we both fell to the ground. I fell underneath, 
 and he had me in his power. I struggled in vain to 
 free myself. He still held me by the throat, and he 
 began to cry for assistance. What was to be done ? I 
 had a jack-knife in my pocket there was no time for 
 
 55 reflection my left hand was free it was the work of 
 a moment the hot blood spirted from his heart full in
 
 184 KXKRWIBEH. I-AET II. [Ex. 5ti, 57. 
 
 my face. His hold relaxed, and giving a terrible groan, 
 
 he rolled on tin- Around in agony. 1 sprang upon mv 
 
 . and snatched the trunk; as I moved away in tin* 
 
 60 darkness, the death rattle in tin- throat uf my victim came 
 
 :'ully upon my ears. 
 
 What followed until I found myself chained in this 
 dungeon, I know not. 1 have a faint re-collection of fly- 
 ing from the spot where lay the dying man ; of being 
 65 aroused in the morning by the officers of justice : of a 
 court-room, where were displayed the trunk found in my 
 possession, and a knife taken from the brea-t of the corpse 
 with my name on the handle. I have a more distinct 
 recollection of an after trial and of a condemnation ; and 
 70 to-morrow the jailer tells me I am to die to be publicly 
 uted. I acknowledge the j . :uy punishment 
 
 I deserve death ; and may God show mercy to him 
 who showed no niercv ! 
 
 EXERCISE 57. 
 Death at the Toiltt. DIARY OF A PIIVSICIVN. 
 
 "Why, what in the world can Charlotte be doing all 
 
 this while?" inquired hej- mother. She listened "I 
 
 have not heard her moving for the last three-quarters of 
 
 an hour! I'll call the in:. id. and a.-k." She rung the 
 
 5 bell, and the servant app<, 
 
 "Betty. Miss J is not g< "Go 
 
 up to her ro . and see if she wants any thing, 
 
 and tell her it's half p.i-t i,;ne o'clock." said Mrv .1 . 
 
 The servant accordingly went n; .ml knocked nt 
 
 in tli.- bi-droorn door. onc\ t u !<., timer, but 
 
 \er. Tii \shen the 
 
 wind >hook the window. < -, J have fallen 
 
 asle- She kn<-ki-d a-^ain. but un- 
 
 15 Rti'l ':c-d the door and en 
 
 Th- .1 sitting at the glass. 
 
 ma'am '." coinim-n J.king 
 
 i[i to 1, , I.een knocking for these ti\e 
 
 nu'nutes, and ' i;..rror struck ' 
 
 20 bed i ;. 'i 1 shri'-k, alarmed Mrs. J , who 
 
 instantly tott< red up stairs, almost palsied with fright. 
 Mi** .1 wns d
 
 Ex. 58.] KXERCISES. PART II. 185 
 
 I was there within a fc\v minutes, for my house was 
 not more than two streets distant. It was a stormy 
 
 25 night in March : and the desolate aspect of things with- 
 out deserted streets the dreary howling of the wind, 
 and the incessant pattering of the rain contributed to 
 cast a gloom over my mind, when connected with the 
 intelligence of the awful event tfiat had summoned me 
 
 30 out, which was deepened into horror by the spectacle 
 I was doomed to witness. On reaching the house, I 
 
 found Mrs. J in violent hysterics, surrounded by 
 
 several of her .neighbors, who had been called to her as- 
 sistance. I repaired to the scene of death, and beheld 
 
 35 what I never shall forget. The room was occupied by 
 a white-curtained bed. There was but one window, 
 and before it was a table, on which stood a looking- 
 glass, hung with a little white drapery ; and various 
 paraphernalia of the toilet lay scattered about pins, 
 
 40 brooches, curling-papers, ribins, gloves, &c. An arm- 
 chair was drawn to this table, and in it sat Miss J , 
 
 stone dead. Her head rested upon her right hand, her 
 elbow supported by the table ; while her left hung down 
 by her side, grasping a pair of curling-irons. Each of 
 
 45 her wrists was encircled by a showy gilt bracelet. She 
 was dressed in a white muslin frock, with a little bor- 
 dering of blonde. Her face was turned towards the 
 glass, which by the light of the expiring candle, reflect- 
 ed with frightful fidelity the clammy, fixed features, 
 
 50 daubed with rouge and carmine the fallen lower jaw 
 and the eyes directed full into the glass, with a cold 
 stare, that was appalling. On examining the counte- 
 nance more narrowly, I thought I detected the traces of 
 a smirk of conceit and self-complacency, which not even 
 
 55 the palsying hand of death could wholly obliterate. 
 The hair of the corpse, all smooth and glossy, was 
 curled with elaborate precision ; and the skinny sallow 
 neck was encircled with a string of glistening pearls. 
 The ghastly visage of death thus leering through the 
 
 GO tinselry of fashion the " vain show" of artificial joy 
 was a horrible mockery of the fooleries of life ! 
 
 Indeed it was a most humiliating and shocking spec- 
 tacle. Poor creature ! struck dead in the very act of 
 sacrificing at the shrine of female vanity ! 
 
 65 On examination of the body, we found that death had
 
 180 EXERCISES. PART II. [El. 57, 58. - 
 
 been occasioned by disease of the heart. Her life might 
 have been protracted, possibly fur years, had she but 
 taken my advice, and that of her mother. I have 
 many hundreds of corpses, as well in the calm compo- 
 ire of natural death, as mangled and distorted by vio- 
 lence ; but never Jiave I seen so startling a satire upon 
 human vanity, so repulsive, so unsightly, and loathsome a 
 spectacle, as a corpse dn .v.v< ( / fur a ball ! 
 
 KXKRCISE 68. 
 Salbath Schools. FREU NG 11 r VSKH. 
 
 We have witnessed, with grateful interest, the progress 
 of Sabbath School instruction. I ^r has furnished 
 
 some fresh proofs of its substantial benefits. Take a 
 single illustration in your city ; a recent investigation 
 5 ascertained that, of twelve thousand children who had 
 shared in the blessings of this institution, not one had 
 ever been arraigned for crime. This is a volume of 
 commendation; but, sir, it is only the beginning of good. 
 The next age will witness some of the fulness of its mer- 
 
 10 cies, when these children shall take our places, and as- 
 sume upon them the duties of men and citi. 
 
 I hasten to the appropriate business of this evening. 
 A noble impulse has been given to this sacred cause in 
 a neighboring city ; it has reached the friends of truth 
 
 15 and awakened a kindred spirit here. The moral condi- 
 tion and prospects of the West the influence which it 
 will very soon exert in the public councils of our coun- 
 try, and its own distinct claims, as an important part of 
 ourselves, combined a weight of interest in its behalf, 
 a has attracted general concern and distinguished 
 liberality. I advert to the share, that will soon be 
 taken by the Valley of the Mississippi, in our -national 
 concerns. Sir, the children will, after a few more yean, 
 give the law to the mother. This infant \V- 
 
 25 attaining to a giant's dimension-; and its power will be 
 tremendous, unless controlled by principle. Washing- 
 ton, who had studied the human : under many 
 di\.-r-ities, came to the full <"on\iction, that no prin- 
 ciple could bo safely trusted, which did not flow from a 
 
 30 sense of religious obligation; and an infinitely greater
 
 Ex. 58.] EXEUCISE3. PART II. 187 
 
 than Washington had ages before proclaimed the same 
 truth. In this Valley of the West, upwards of four mill- 
 ions of freemen have, with astonishing rapidity, peopled 
 the fairest regions of our republic ; and the eventful 
 
 35 question to be resolved is, how we shall most happily 
 fashion the elements of these rising communities ; whether 
 by our benignant regards, they shall aid to strengthen 
 the cords of our union ; whether they shall cherish 
 the principles of private and public virtue ; or whether 
 
 40 by our neglect, they shall be left to exhibit the melan- 
 choly spectacle of universal degeneracy of manners, 
 among a people, but yesterday born into political exist- 
 ence. Sir, this is the true, honest question. We can- 
 not, and we ought not to evade it. It is put to us as 
 
 45 Christians and as American citizens. These sister states 
 of the West possess capacities for good or evil, that can- 
 not be trifled with or disregarded. Rightly influenced, 
 immense blessings will reward our philanthropy but 
 should we suffer them to grow on, with no moral culture, 
 
 50 floods of wickedness will by and by come over upon 
 us, that will sweep away the last vestiges of hope and 
 freedom. I lately heard from a distinguished citizen of 
 that section of the Union, the evil, and the antidote in 
 one short sentence. While deploring the frequent oc- 
 
 55 currence of street murders sometimes by men high in 
 official stations, he remarked, that the terrors of law in- 
 terposed no check, and that his hope rested in the ref- 
 ormation of public sentiment : there, said he, the mis- 
 chief receives its countenance, and there we must look 
 
 60 for its corrective. This was the language of truth and 
 soberness. When the late movement in Philadelphia 
 was announced, it was hailed as the harbinger of incal- 
 culable blessings. A fountain was to be opened, whose 
 healthful streams would send forth richer benefits to the 
 
 65 Valley of the Mississippi, than all their majestic rivers. 
 The Sunday schools will reform that perverted public 
 opinion, that sanctions the deeds of the transgressor. 
 They will purify the elements of society ; they will 
 arrest the torrent of corruption ; erect the standard of 
 
 70 sound principles, and, by the blessing of Heaven, save 
 the country and perpetuate her liberties. A cause, thus 
 exalted in its aims, this evening addresses itself to 
 the philanthropy of a generous people. It becomes
 
 1S6 .itcisBs. PART n. [Ex. 56, ID. 
 
 not a stranger ti> press tliis suit. It befits the 
 
 75 h<. of it. that a nobler diarity could not well 
 
 engage <ur s\ mpathies. To raise an empire of immor- 
 tal beings to the dignity of virtuous freemen ; to send 
 forth moral influences among them, that shall establish 
 tlie lia.-isof political prosperity ; that shall rai-e a p- 
 
 80 tion around the sacred privileges of the t' 
 
 secure the Jiearth and the altar from rude invasion. And 
 more than this to open to them the pathway to a blessed 
 immortality, to fill up time with social comforts, to gild 
 its close with consolation, and crown t! with 
 
 86 imperishable happiness. Sir, what are earthly sc.cj 
 
 what is human wealth and greatne->. compared with 
 such a vision? And in the just hope that it may shonly 
 be realized, who can longer gra-p hi- ^oM .' Where 
 or 1 .\ealth accomplish for us, more substantial 
 
 90 or sublime pleasures. Patriotism in its boldest concep- 
 tions, cannot aspire to a purer bliss than this To elevate 
 an extensive body of enterprising men, to secure them 
 from the wasteful inlluence of irreligion and crime; and 
 bring up millions of our fellow-men. airily of a 
 
 95 virtuous community. Sir. failure in Midi an entrrpri>e, 
 would U- no common calamity. Hut we need not fail. 
 The faithful consecration of our best efforts, is doMined 
 to demolish the throne of the prince of darkness 
 honored will be the humblest man, permitted to raise a 
 
 100 finger in the work. 
 
 I XERCISE 69. 
 The follij ami wickedness of War. K- 
 
 Ywo poor mortals. devat-d with the di.-tinction of a 
 
 golden bauble oil their he;td>, i"dled .1 
 
 at each other, without any reason, or with the \cry bad 
 one of wishing for an opportunity of aggrandizing tln-m- 
 5 selve, by making reciprocal d.-pi. 
 
 tun > of the court, and the leading men of i 
 who are usually under the influence of the court, r- 
 (for it U their interest) to support their royal master, 
 and are never at a loss to invent some colorable 
 10 teiire !>r engaging the nation in war. Taxes of the
 
 Ex. 59.] EXERCISES. PART II. 189 
 
 most burdensome kind are levied, soldiers are collected, 
 so as to leave a paucity of husbandmen ; reviews and 
 encampments succeed ; and at last fifteen or twenty 
 thousand men meet on a plain, and coolly shed each 
 
 15 other's blood, without the smallest personal animosity, 
 or the shadow of a provocation. The kings, in the 
 meantime, and the grandees, who have employed these 
 poor innocent victims to shoot bullets at each other's 
 heads, remain quietly at home, and amuse themselves, in 
 
 20 the intervals of balls, hunting schemes, and pleasures 
 of every species, with reading at the fireside, and over a 
 cup of chocolate, the dispatches from the army, and the 
 news in the Extraordinary Gazette. If the King of 
 Prussia were not at the head of some of the best troops 
 
 25 in the world, he would be judged more worthy of being 
 tried, and condemned, at the Old Bailey, than any 
 shedder of blood who ever died by a halter. But he 
 is a king ; but he is a hero ; those names fascinate 
 us, and we enroll the butcher of mankind among their 
 
 30 benefactors. 
 
 When one -considers the dreadful circumstances that 
 attend even victories, one cannot help being a little 
 shocked at the exultation which they occasion. I have 
 often thought it would be a laughable scene, if there 
 
 35 were not too much of the melancholy in it, when a circle 
 of eager politicians have met to congratulate each other 
 on a piece of good news just arrived. Every eye sparkles 
 with delight ; every voice is raised in announcing the 
 happy event. And what is the cause of all this joy ? 
 
 40 and for what are our windows illuminated, bonfires 
 kindled, bells rung, and feasts celebrated ? We have 
 had a successful engagement. We have left a thousand 
 of the enemy dead on the field of battle, and only nine 
 hundred of our countrymen. Charming news ! it was a 
 
 45 glorious battle ! But before you give a loose to your 
 raptures, pause awhile ; and consider, that to every one 
 of these nineteen hundred, life was no less sweet than 
 it is to you; that to the far greater part of them there 
 probably were wives, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, 
 
 50 sisters, brothers, and friends, all of whom are at this mo- 
 ment bewailing that event which occasions your foolish 
 and brutal triumph*
 
 I.XKRCI8B8. PART II. [Ex. 00. 
 
 EXERCISE 60. 
 
 The Warrior. HAKIIINCJKK OF PEACE. 
 
 1 A gallant form is passing by, 
 
 The plume bends oVr hi* lordly hrow ; 
 A thousand tongues have raised on high 
 
 His song of triumph now. 
 Young knrrs are ln-nding round his way, 
 And age makes ban- his lucks of gray. 
 
 2 Fair forms have lent their gladdest smile, 
 
 White hands h 1 the conqueror >n, 
 
 And flowers have di-ck'd his path the while, 
 
 By gentle tin \ n. 
 
 Soft tones have cheer'd him. and the brow 
 Of beauty beams, uncover'd now. 
 
 3 The bard hath waked the song for him, 
 
 And pour'd his boldest numbers forth ; 
 The wine cup, sparkling to the brim, 
 
 Adds fren/y to the mirth ; 
 And every tongue, and every rye, 
 - Does homage to the passer by. 
 
 4 (<) The gallant steed tu-ads proudly on; 
 
 His foot falls firmly now, as when 
 In strife that iron heel went down 
 
 Upon the hearts of nn u ; 
 And foremost in the ranks of strife, 
 Trod out the last, dim spark of 1 
 
 5 Dream they of these tin- glad and gay, 
 
 That bend around the conqueror's path? 
 The horrors of thi- conflict day 
 
 The gloomy field of death 
 The ghastly slain the M-VI -r'd head 
 Th' Doping o'er the dead '.' 
 
 6 Diirk thoughts and fearful ' yet they bring 
 
 No terrors to the triumph hour. 
 Nor stay the reckless worshiping 
 
 Of blended crime and p 
 The fair of form, the mild of mood, 
 Do honor to flio nun of blood.
 
 Ex. 60, 61.] EXERCISES. PART II. 191 
 
 7 Men Christians ! pause the air ye breathe 
 
 Is poison' d by your idol now ; 
 And will ye turn to him, and wreathe 
 
 Your chaplets round his brow ? 
 Nay, call his darkest deeds sublime ? 
 And smile assent to giant crime ? 
 
 EXERCISE 61. 
 Death of Ashmun. MRS. SIGOURNEY. 
 
 1 ( ) Whose is yon sable bier ? 
 
 Why move the throng so slow ? 
 v Why doth that lonely mother's tear \ 
 
 In sudden anguish flow ? 
 Why is that sleeper laid 
 
 To rest in manhood's gride ? 
 How gain'd his cheeks such pallid shade ? 
 I spake, but none replied. 
 
 2 ( ) The hoarse wave murmur'd low, 
 
 The distant surges roar'd ; 
 And o'er the sea in tones of woe 
 
 A deep response was pour'd ; t 
 I heard sad Africk mourn 
 
 Upon her billowy strand ; 
 &. shield was from her bosom torn, 
 
 An anchor from her hand. 
 
 8 ( ) Ah ! well I know thee now, 
 
 Though foreign suns would trace 
 Deep lines of death upon thy brow, 
 
 Thou friend of misery's race ; 
 Their leader when the blast ' 
 
 Of ruthless war swept by, 
 Their teacher when the storm was past, 
 
 Their guide to worlds on high. 
 
 4 Spirit of Power, pass on ! 
 
 Thy homeward wing is free ; 
 Earth may not claim thee for her son, 
 She hath no chain for thee :
 
 - PART 11. [ 
 
 down, 
 . 
 
 \>in thy birthright crown, 
 Gd to thy 6*1. i \ce. 
 
 \:\\:\K [si: 
 
 Lore <>f Afifilunnf. H v 
 
 To be insen-ilile- tu public opinion, or to r 
 lion in which NM- ai iiiy thing, 
 
 nithcr than a good and gi-nerous spirit. It is indeed 
 the mark of a low and worthle>- -T ; devoid of 
 
 5 principle, and therefore devoid of 
 
 man is n-t far irorn ruin, wln-n ]}< can sav, without 
 blushing, / ' 'hat otkerj thin 
 
 But to Imv.- a pp'; aion is one 
 
 thing; to make that opinion our rul<- of (juite 
 
 10 another. The one we m. >:)>istently witli 
 
 the purest virtue, and the most unhcndint; rectitude^; 
 the other we cannot adopt, \sithoiit an utter abandon- 
 ment of principle and disn-irard of dntv. The young 
 man whose threat aim i^ to p!-a*-, \vlio mak-s the opin- 
 
 15 ion and favor of others ln-> rule and motive of action; 
 
 \ ivady to adopt any sentiments, or pursue any 
 
 course of cor and criminal, provided 
 
 only, that it t- popular. In <. . liis first 
 
 qur>tion jv i \\liit will my companions, what will the 
 
 20 world think and say of me, if 1 adopt this, or th%t course 
 of conduct ? Duty, the eternal lav. ;tude, are 
 
 not thought of. Custom, fashion, popular favor; 
 are tin- things, that till his entire usion, and <i 
 every question of ..pinion and duty. Su*h a man can 
 
 25 ne\ integrity, and n> in- 
 
 t mind, tude. 
 
 !! i- at th-- in- ' ry casual impulse, and change 
 
 of popular opinion, an no more toll wK 
 
 h- will ]>< riLjht or wronvr t pr-- 
 
 30 diet the con < what si clouds 
 
 will then assir 
 
 And wli.r ik and 
 
 foolish n il the end 
 
 of thus acting in cowpltan- :~tom in 
 
 35 to one's own convictions of d(v " It is to lose the e-
 
 Ex. 62, 63.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 193 
 
 teem and respect of the very man whom you thus attempt 
 to please. Your defect of principle and hollow-hearted- 
 ness are easily perceived ; and though the persons to 
 whom you thus sacrifice your conscience, may affect to 
 
 40 commend your complaisance, you may be assured, that, 
 inwardly, they despise you for it. Young men can hardly 
 commit a greater mistake, than to think of gaining the 
 esteem of others, by yielding to their wishes, contrary to 
 their own sense of duty. Such conduct is always morally 
 
 45 wrong, and rarely fails to deprive one both of self-respect, 
 and of the respect of others. 
 
 EXERCISE 63. 
 Christian Integrity. HAWKS. 
 
 It is very common, I know, for young men just com- 
 mencing business, to imagine that, if they would advance 
 their secular interests, they must not be very scrupulous 
 in binding themselves down to the strict rules of recti- 
 5 tude. They must conform to custom ; and if in buying 
 and selling they sometimes say the things that are not 
 true, and do the things that are not honest ; why, their 
 neighbors do the same ; and, verily, there is no getting 
 along without it. There is so much competition and 
 
 10 rivalry, that to be strictly honest, and yet succeed in busi- 
 ness, is out of the question. 
 
 Now if it were indeed so, I would say to a young man ; 
 Then quit your business. Better dig, and beg too, than 
 to tamper with conscience, sin against God, and lose your 
 
 15 soul. 
 
 But is it so ? is it necessary in order to succeed in 
 business, that you should adopt a standard of morals, 
 more lax and pliable, than the one placed before you in 
 the Bible ? Perhaps, for a time, a rigid adherence to 
 
 20 rectitude might bear hard upon you ; but how would it 
 be in the end ? Possibly, your neighbor, by being less 
 scrupulous than yourself, may invent a more expeditious 
 way of acquiring a fortune. If he is willing to violate 
 the dictates of conscience ; to lie, and cheat, and tram- 
 
 25 pie on the rules of justice and honesty, he may, indeed, 
 get the start of you, and rise suddenly to wealth and 
 distinction. But would you envy him his riches, or be 
 9
 
 194 KXKRnaiw. PART n. [Ex. 63, 64. 
 
 willing to place yourself in his situation ? Sudden wealth, 
 especially when obtained by dishonest means, rarely fails 
 
 30 of bringing with it sudden ruin. Those who acquire 
 it, are of course beggared in their morals, and are often, 
 very soon, beggared in property. Their riches are cor- 
 rupted ; and while they bring the curse of Ood on their 
 immediate possessors, they usually entail misery and ruin 
 
 35 upon their lain; 
 
 If it be admitted, then, that strict integrity is not al- 
 ways the shortest way to success ; is it not the surest, 
 the happiest, and the best ? A young man of thorough 
 integrity may, it is true, find it difficult, in the midst of 
 
 40 dishonest competitors and rivals, to start in his business 
 or profession ; but how long, ere he will surmount every 
 difficulty ; draw around him patrons and friends, and 
 rise in the confidence and support of all who know 
 him? 
 
 45 What if, in pursuing this course, you should not, at the 
 close of life, have so much money by a few hundred dol- 
 lars ? Will not a fair character, an approving conscience, 
 and an approving Ood, be an abundant compensation for 
 this little deficiency of pelf? 
 
 50 Oh, there is an hour coming, when one whisper of an 
 approving mind, one smile of an approving God, will be 
 accounted of more value than the wealth of a thousand 
 worlds like this. In that hour, my youn^ friends, nothing 
 will sustain you, but the consciousness of having been 
 
 55 governed in life by worthy and good principles. 
 
 EXERCISE 64. 
 Watch. J. MASON GOOD. 
 
 1 Life is a sea, how fair its t 
 
 How smooth its dimpling waters' pace, 
 
 Its canopy how pure f 
 Hut rocks below, and ttmptstt sleep 
 Insidious, o'er the glassy deep, 
 
 Nor leave an hour secure. 
 
 2 Life is a wilderness, beset 
 
 With tangling thorns, and treach'rons net, 
 And prowl d by beasts of prey.
 
 El 64.} EXERCISES. PART II. 195 
 
 One path alone conducts aright, 
 One narrow path, with little light ; 
 A thousand lead astray. 
 
 3 Life is a warfare, and alike 
 Prepared to parley, or to strike, 
 
 The practiced foe draws nigh. 
 0, hold no truce ! less dangerous far 
 To stand, and all his phalanx dare, 
 
 Than trust his specious lie. 
 
 4 Whate'er its form, whate'er its flow, 
 While life is lent to man below, 
 
 One duty stands confest, 
 To watch incessant, firm of mind, 
 And watch where'er the post assign'd, 
 
 And leave to God the rest. 
 
 5 'Twas while they watch'd, the shepherd swains 
 ' Heard angels strike to angel-strains 
 
 The song of heavenly love : ' 
 Blest harmony ! that far excels 
 All music else on earth that dwells, 
 
 Or e'er was tuned above. 
 
 6 'Twas while they watch'd, the sages traced 
 The star that every star effaced 
 
 With new and nobler shine : 
 They follow'd, and it led the way 
 To where the infant Savior lay, * 
 
 And gave them light divine. 
 
 7 'Twas while they watch'd, with lamp in hand, 
 And oil well stored, the virgin band 
 
 The bridal pomp descried ; 
 They join'd it, and the heavenly gate, 
 That oped to them its glorious state, 
 
 Was closed on all beside. 
 
 8 Watch ! watch and pray ! in suffering hour 
 Thus He exclaim'd who felt its power, 
 
 And triumph'd hi the strife. 
 Victor of Death ! thy voice I hear : 
 Fain would I watch with holy fear, 
 Would watch and pray through life's career, 
 
 And only cease with life.
 
 196 EXERCISES PART II. [Ex. 05. 
 
 '.5. 
 New Social Order in America. DOUGLAS. 
 
 America is to modern Europe, what its western colo- 
 nies were to Greece, the land of aspirations and dreams, 
 the country of daring enterprise, and the asylum of mis- 
 fortune, which receives alike the exile and the adventurer, 
 5 the discontented and the aspiring, and promises to all a 
 freer life, and a fresher nature. 
 
 The European emigrant might believe himself as one 
 transported to a new world, governed by new laws, and 
 finds himself at once raised in the scale of being the 
 
 10 pauper is maintained by his own labor, the hired la- 
 borer works on his own account, and the tenant is 
 changed into a proprietor, while the depressed vassal 
 of the old continent becomes co-legislator, and co-ruler 
 in a government where all power is from the people, 
 
 15 and in the people, and for the people. The world has 
 not witnessed an emigration like that taking place to 
 America; so extensive in its range, so immeasurable 
 in its consequences, since the dispersion of mankind ; 
 hordes of emigrants are continually swarming off, as 
 
 20 ceaseless in their passage, and crowded, and unreturn- 
 
 ing, as the travelers to eternity. Even those who are 
 
 forced to remain behind, feel a melancholy restlessness, 
 
 like a bird whose wing is crippled, at the season of mi- 
 
 >* gration, and look forward to America, as to the land of 
 
 25 the departed, where every one has some near relative, or 
 
 dear friend gone before him A voice like that heard 
 
 before the final ruin of Jerusalem, seems to whisper to 
 
 those who have ears to hear, " Let us depart hence." 
 
 Every change in America has occasioned a corres- 
 
 30 pondent change in Europe ; the discovery of it over- 
 turned the systems of the ancients, and gave a new face 
 to adventure and to knowledge ; the opening of its mines 
 produced a revolution in property ; and the independ- 
 ence of the United States overturned the monarchy of 
 
 85 France, and set fire to a train which has not yet fully 
 exploded. In every thing, its progress is interwoven 
 with the fates of Europe. At every expansion of Ameri- 
 can influence, the older countries are destined to un- 
 dergo new change*, nnd to receive a second character
 
 Ex. 65, 66.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 197 
 
 40 from the colonies which they have planted, whose great- 
 ness is on so much larger a scale than that of the parent 
 countries, and which will exhibit those improvements 
 which exist in miniature in Europe, unfettered by ancient 
 prejudices, and dilated over another continent. 
 
 EXERCISE 66. \ 
 
 Voluntary Association. DOUGLAS. 
 
 A new influence is arising, which is sufficiently able 
 to supply the deficiencies of Governments, in attaining 
 ends which they cannot reach, and in affording aids 
 over which they have no control the power of voluntary 
 5 association. There is no object to which this power 
 cannot adapt itself; no resources which* it may not ul- 
 timately command ; and a few individuals, if the public 
 mind is gradually prepared to favor them, can lay the 
 foundations of undertakings which would have baffled 
 
 10 the might of those who reared the pyramids; and the 
 few who can divine the tendency of the age before it is 
 obvious to others, and perceive in which direction the 
 tide of public opinion is setting, may avail themselves 
 of the current, and concentrate every breath that is fa- 
 
 15 vorable to their course. The exertions of a scanty 
 number of individuals may swell into the resources of a 
 large party, which, collecting at last all the national en- 
 ergies unto its aid, and availing itself of the human sym- 
 pathies that are in its favor, may make the field of its 
 
 20 labor and its triumph as wide as humanity itself. The 
 elements being favorably disposed, a speck of cloud col- 
 lects vapors from the four winds which overshadow the 
 heavens ; and all the varying and conflicting events of 
 life, and the no less jarring and discordant passions of the 
 
 25 human breast, when once the channel is sufficiently deep- 
 ened, will rush into one accelerating torrent, and be borne 
 towards their destined end. The power of voluntary 
 association, though scarcely tried as yet, is of largest 
 promise for the future ; and when extended upon a great 
 
 30 scale, is the influence most removed from the shock of 
 accidents and the decay of earthly things, renewing its 
 youth with renewed generations, and becoming immortal 
 through the perpetuity of the kind.
 
 198 PAHT ii. [Ex. M, 87. 
 
 The favorable result of all undertakings depend* upon 
 
 36 the previous state and preparation of the world, BO less 
 than the vegetation of the seed does upon the soil into 
 which it is oast ; those who have proceeded farthest in 
 their attempts, and gained the point at which they aimed, 
 had the stream in their favor, and were more indebted 
 
 40 to the strength of the current than to their own individual 
 efforts ; their superiority to others consisted chiefly in 
 their superior discernment; and they seemed to lead 
 their contemporaries, merely because they themselves 
 were moot led by the spirit of the age, and took a favor- 
 
 45 able situation for being borne forward by the tide, which 
 they had the sagacity to see was upon the turn. The 
 Greeks would have conquered the Persians without Alex- 
 ander ; the Romans would have been enslaved had Caesar 
 never been born, and the Arabians would have POM de- 
 
 50 ceived by other impostors had Mahomet never professed 
 himself a prophet. 
 
 EXERCISE 67. 
 Bible Societies DOUGLAS. 
 
 Modem writers have discovered that words are more 
 plentiful than thoughts ; and that therefore the true econo- 
 my of writing consists in being sparing of the latter, and 
 profuse of the former ; the reports of different societies 
 6 carry this even too far, and one may rend through a long 
 report, and reach the conclusion \vithout meeting a single 
 new fact, or new observation by the way. This ought 
 to be amended, and a series of publications which would 
 extend the knowledge, and deepen the interest which 
 
 10 the subscribers take in the progress of religion, are 
 strongly required, before that interest can become more 
 general and abiding. Witi ts tin- Bible 
 
 Society continues the most perfect in.>titutn>n <>f its kind, 
 and the finest example of the power of \<>hintary asoocia- 
 
 16 tion. It has merited the thanks of its bitterest ene- 
 mies as well as of its warmest friends ; for, while it has 
 done religion one service, by uniting all its friends in 
 one great cause, it has done it a second service, by unit- 
 ing all its eoemiea, however hostile to each other, 
 
 20 against it ; thus ranging each aide front to front, and
 
 FiX. 67, 68.] EXERCISES. PAET II. 
 
 preparing them for one decisive and final struggle. It 
 leaves every one without excuse, who does not co-operate 
 with it ; it combines all classes and all creeds, the poor 
 may contribute their mite, and the rich may pour in 
 
 25 their abundance ; and those who build precious things, 
 and those who heap up stubble upon the foundation of 
 the Scriptures, have here one point of agreement in the 
 foundation for which they both earnestly contend. It 
 has done more^good than all the theological discussions 
 
 30 for the last hundred years; and though it has confuted 
 no heresy, it has done still better, for it has made many 
 be neglected and forgotten. It oversteps the boundaries 
 of kingdoms, and the separation of national jealousies, 
 and presents a field wide enough for men of all nations 
 
 35 and languages to enter, without conflicting or jarring with 
 each other ; its field is truly the world ; it embraces di- 
 rectly or indirectly, all the interests of humanity ; and it 
 is ever profusely distributing the benefits of time, while 
 its ultimate results are lost in the glories of eternity. 
 
 EXERCISE 68. 
 Christ's Entry into Jerusalem. CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 1 From Olivet's sequester'd seats, 
 
 What sounds of transport spread ? 
 What concourse moves through Salem's streets 
 
 To Zion's holy head ? 
 Behold him there in lowliest guise ! 
 
 The Savior of mankind ! 
 Triumphal shouts before him rise, 
 
 And shouts reply behind ! 
 And " strike," they cry, your loudest string ; 
 He comes ! Hosanna to our King !" 
 
 2 He came to earth : from eldest years, 
 
 A long and bright array, 
 Of Prophet-bards and Patriarch-seers, 
 
 Proclaim'd the glorious day : 
 The light of heaven in every breast, 
 
 Its fire on every lip, 
 - In tuneful chorus on they press'd, 
 
 A goodly fellowship :
 
 KXtKClBEd. rAKT II. [Ex. 06, 09. 
 
 And on the pealing anthem ran, 
 Hotanna to the Son of Man !" 
 
 3 He came to earth : tlin.u^h life he pass'd 
 
 A man of griefs : and, lo, 
 A noble army following fast 
 
 His track of pain and woe: 
 All deck'd with palms, and strangely bright, 
 
 That suffering host appears ; 
 And stainless are their robes of white, 
 
 Though steep'd in Wood and tears ; 
 And sweet their martyr-anthem flows, 
 " Hosanna to the Man of Woes !" 
 
 4 From ages past descends the lay, 
 
 To ages yet to be, 
 Till far its echoes roll away 
 
 Into eternity. 
 But ! while saints and angels high, 
 
 Thy final triumph share, 
 Amidst thy followers, Lord, would I, 
 
 Though last and meanest there, 
 Receive a place, and joyful raise 
 A loud Hosanna to thy praise ! 
 
 i:\i;urisi: 69. 
 Evening Hymn. MONTHLY VISITOR. 
 
 1 Departing day fades in the west, 
 
 The busy world is still ; 
 Be human passion hush'd to rest, 
 Be tranquil, human will. 
 
 2 Father in Heaven, to thee I bend, 
 
 To thee I lift my prayer ; 
 Vouchsafe, Divine, Almighty Friend, 
 Thy suppliant's voice to bear. 
 
 3 If lured by pleasure's specious wiles, 
 
 By shadowy hopes or fears, 
 If earthly joys have waken'd smiles, 
 Or earthly sorrows, tears ; 
 
 4 If fall'n from Thee, and Thy command, 
 
 (And fallen I must appear,)
 
 Ex. 69, 70.] EXERCISES. PART If. 201 
 
 Before Thee, Lord, thy creature stands, 
 A suppliant sincere. 
 
 5 Oh, be this day's offence forgiven, 
 This night with slumbers blest ; 
 And pious trust in pardoning Heaven, 
 The pillow of my rest. 
 
 EXERCISE 70. 
 Universal Peace. CHALMERS. 
 
 The first great obstacle to the extinction of war, is 
 the way in which the heart of man is carried off from 
 its barbarities and its horrors, by the splendor of its 
 deceitful accompaniments. There is a feeling of the 
 5 sublime in contemplating the shock of armies, just as 
 there is in contemplating the devouring energy of a tem- 
 pest ; and this so elevates and engrosses the whole man, 
 that his eye is blind to the tears of bereaved parents, 
 and his ear is deaf to the piteous moan of the dying, and 
 
 10 the shriek of their desolated families. There is a grace- 
 fulness in the picture of a youthful warrior, burning for 
 distinction on the field, and lured by this generous aspi- 
 ration to the deepest of the animated throng, where, in 
 the fell work of death, the opposing sons of valor strug- 
 
 15 gle for a remembrance and a name ; and this side of the 
 picture is so much the exclusive object of our regard, as 
 to disguise from our view the mangled carcasses of the 
 fallen, and the writhing agonies of the hundreds and the 
 hundreds more, who have been laid on the cold ground, 
 
 20 where they are left to languish and to die. There no 
 eye pities them. No sister is there to weep over them. 
 There no gentle hand is present to ease the dying pos- 
 ture, or bind up the wounds, which, in the maddening, 
 fury of the combat, have been given and received, by the 
 
 25 children of one common Father. There death spreads 
 its pale ensigns over every countenance, and when night 
 comes on, and darkness is around them, how many a de- 
 spairing wretch must take up with the bloody field as the 
 untended bed of his last sufferings, without one friend to 
 
 30 bear the message of tenderness to his distant home, with- 
 out one companion to close his eyes. 
 
 I avow it. On every side of me I see causes at work 
 9*
 
 r..-<. PAKT 11. [Kx 70. 71. 
 
 which go to spread a most delusive coloring over war, 
 and to remove its shocking barbarities i" tin.- back-ground 
 
 35 of our contemplations altogether. 1 > . it in tin- history, 
 which tells me of the superb appearance t the troops, and 
 the brilliancy of their successive charges. I see u in the 
 poetry, which lends the magi* "i its numbers to the nar- 
 rative of blood, and transports its many admirers ; as by 
 
 40 its images, and its figures, and its nodding plumes of 
 chivalry, it throws its treacherous embellishments over 
 a scene of legalized slaughter. 1 see it in the music, 
 which represents the progress of the battle ; and where, 
 after being inspired by the trumpet-notes of preparation, 
 
 45 the whole beauty and tenderness of ;i drawing room are 
 seen to bead over the sentimental entertainment ; nor 
 do I hear the utterance of a single sigh to interrupt the 
 death-tones of the thickening contest, and the moans of 
 the wounded men, .is they fade away upon the ear, and 
 
 50 sink into lifeless silence. All, all goes to prove what 
 strange and half-sighted creatures we are. Were it not 
 so, war could never have been seen in any other -aspect 
 than that of unrninglcd hateful m->s ; and I can look to 
 nothing but to the progress of Christian sentiment upon 
 
 55 earth, to arrest the strong current of its popular and pre- 
 vailing partiality for war. Then only will an imperious 
 sense of duty lay the check of severe principle, on all 
 the subordinate tastes and faculties of our nature. Then 
 will glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the wake. 
 
 60 ful benevolence of the Gospel, chafing away even* spell, 
 will he turned by the treachery of no delusion whatever, 
 from its sublime enterprises for the good of the sp- 
 Then th. : truth and ijuirtncss will be ushered 
 
 into the world, and \?ar cruel, atrocious, unrelenting 
 
 ii, will be stripped of its many and its hewilden: 
 filiations 
 
 I:\KKCISI-: 71. 
 
 The Elder's Death Bed. PROF. Wiusov. 
 
 , I. 
 
 Fur six years' Sabbaths I i ;lie KI.WCK in las 
 
 accustomed place beneath the pulpit and, with a sort 
 of solemn fear, had looked on his steadfast ountenance
 
 Ex. 71.] EXERCISES. PART II. 203 
 
 during sermon, psalm, and prayer. On returning to the 
 5 scenes of my infancy, I met the Pastor, going to pray by 
 his death-bed and, with the privilege which nature gives 
 us to behold, even in their last extremity, the loving and 
 beloved, I turned to accompany him to the house of sor- 
 row, of resignation, and of death. 
 
 10 And now, for the first time, I observed, walking close 
 to the feet of his horse, a little boy about ten years of 
 age, who kept frequently looking up in the Pastor's face, 
 with his blue eyes bathed in tears. A changeful ex- 
 pression of grief, hope, and despair, made almost pale, 
 
 15 cheeks, which otherwise were blooming in health and 
 beauty ; and I recognized, in the small features and 
 smooth forehead of childhood, a resemblance to the aged 
 man whom we understood was now lying on his death- 
 bed. " They had to send his grandson for me through 
 
 20 the snow, mere child as he is," said the Minister, look- 
 ing tenderly on the boy ; " but love makes the young 
 heart bold and there is One who tempers the wind to- 
 the shorn lamb." 
 
 As we slowly approached the cottage; through a deep 
 
 25 snow-drift, which the distress within had prevented the 
 inmates from removing, we saw, peeping out from the 
 door, brothers and sisters of our little guide, who quickly 
 disappeared ; and then their mother showed herself in 
 their stead, expressing, by her raised eyes, and arms 
 
 SO folded across her breast, how thankful she was to see, 
 at last, the Pastor, beloved in joy, and trusted in trou- 
 ble. 
 
 A few words sufficed to say who was the stranger 
 and the dying man, blessing me by name, held out to me 
 
 35 his cold, shriveled hand in token of recognition. I took 
 mv seat at a small distance from the bedside, and left a 
 closer station for those who were more dear. 
 
 " If the storm do not abate," said the sick man, after a 
 pause, "it will be hard for my friends to carry me over 
 
 40 the drifts to the kirk-yard." This sudden approach to 
 the grave, struck, as with a bar of ice, the heart of the 
 loving boy and, with a long deep sigh, he fell down, 
 with his face like ashes, on the bed, while the old man's 
 palsied right hand had just strength to lay itself upon 
 
 45 his head. 
 
 " God has been gracious to me a sinner," said the
 
 204 MBHCI8KS. FAT II. [Ex 71. 
 
 dying man. " During thirty years that I have been an 
 elder in your kirk, never have I misled sitting there one 
 Subbath. When the mother of my children was taken 
 
 50 from me it was on a Tn- died and on a Sat- 
 
 urday she was buried. We blood together when nu 
 Alice was let down into the nanw hou&e made for all 
 living. On the Sabbath 1 joined in the public worship 
 of God she commanded me to do so the night before 
 
 65 she went away. I could not join in tin- psalm tha 
 
 bath, for her voice was not in the throng. Her grave 
 was covered up, and grass and flowers grew there." 
 
 The old man ceased speaking and his grandchild, 
 now able to endure the scene, for strong passion it its 
 
 60 own support, glided softly to a little table, and bringing 
 a cup in which a cordial had Ix-en mixed, held it in his 
 small, soft hands to his grandfather's lips. He drank, 
 and then said, " Come closer to me, Jamie, and kiss me 
 for thine own and thy father's sake ;" and as the child 
 
 65 fondly pressed his rosy lips on those of his grandfather, 
 so white and withered, the tears fell over all the old 
 man's face, and then trickled down on the golden head of 
 the child, sobbing in his bosom. 
 
 "Jamie, thy own father has forgotten thee in thy in- 
 
 70 fancy, and me in my old a^e ; hut, Jamie, forget not tkou, 
 thy father, nor thy mother ; for that, thou knowest and 
 feelest, is the commandment of God." 
 
 The broken-hearted boy could give no reply. He had 
 gradually stolen closer and closer unto the loving old 
 
 75 man, and now was lying, worn out with sorrow, drenched 
 and dissolved in tears, in his grandfather's bosom. His 
 mother had sunk down on her knees, and bid her face 
 with her hand. " Oh ! if my husband knew but of this 
 he would never, never desert his dying father !" And 
 
 80 I now knew that the Elder was praying on his death-bed 
 for a disobedient and wicked son. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 At this affecting time the Minister took the Family 
 Bible on his knees, and said, " Let us sing to the praise 
 of God, part of the fifteenth Psalm." Ere the Psalm 
 was yet over, the door was opened, and a tall, fine-look - 
 5 ing man entered, hut with a lowering and dark MKm 
 tenancy, seemingly in sorrow, in misery, and remorse.
 
 Ex. 71.] EXKRC1SES. PART II. 205 
 
 Agitated, confounded, and awe-struck by the melancholy 
 and dirge-like music, he sat down on a chair, and looked 
 with a ghastly face towards his father's death-bed. 
 
 10 When the psalm ceased, the Elder said, with a solemn 
 voice, " My son thou art come in time to receive thy 
 father's blessing. May the remembrance of what will 
 happen in this room, before the morning again shines 
 over the Hazel-glen, win thee from the error of thy ways ! 
 
 15 Thou art here to witness the mercy of thy God and thy 
 Savior, whom thou hast forgotten." 
 
 The Minister looked, if not with a stern, yet with an 
 upbraiding countenance, on the young man, who had not 
 recovered his speech, and said, " William ! for three 
 
 20 years past, your shadow has not darkened the door of 
 the house of God. They who fear not the thunder, may 
 tremble at the still, small voice now is the hour for re- 
 pentance that your fatlier's spirit may carry up to 
 Heaven, tidings of a contrite soul, saved from the com- 
 
 25 pany of sinners !" 
 
 The young man, with much effort, advanced to the 
 bedside, and at last found voice to say, " Father I am 
 not without the affections of nature and I hurried home 
 the moment I heard that the minister had been seen 
 
 30 riding towards our house. I hope that you will yet re- 
 cover, and, if I have ever made you unhappy, I ask your 
 forgiveness ; for though I may not think as you do on 
 matters of religion, I have a human heart. Father ! I 
 may have been unkind, but I am not cruel. I ask your 
 
 35 forgiveness." 
 
 " Come near to me, William ; kneel down by the bed- 
 side, and let my hand feel the head of my beloved son 
 for blindness is coming fast upon me. Thou wert my 
 first born, and thou art my only living son. All thy 
 
 40 brothers and sisters are lying in the church-yard, beside 
 her whose sweet face thine own, William, did once so 
 much resemble. Long wert thou the joy, the pride of 
 my soul, aye, too much the pride, for there was not in 
 all the parish, such a man, such a son, as my own Will- 
 
 45 iam. If thy heart has since been changed, God may 
 inspire it again with right thoughts. I have sorely 
 wept for thee aye, William, when there was none near 
 me even as David wept for Absalom for thee, my son, 
 ray son !"
 
 206 EXBtCltES. PART II. [F'x. 71- 
 
 50 A Ion*/, deep 'jran. was the only reply; hut the whole 
 body of the kneeling man was convulsed ; and it was 
 easy to see lii* suhYrii:. utrition, his remorse, and 
 
 It-pair. Tin- Pastor said, with a sterner voice, and 
 austerer c..unt-nance th;in were natural to him, " Know 
 11 whose hand is now lyin^ on \ our rebellious head? 
 Hut what signifies the u> him who has 
 
 denied f *'*/, the Katlvr of us all?" "Oh ! press him n..t 
 too hardly," said hi< w.-i-pin^ \\-ifi-. coming forward from 
 a dark corner of the room, where sin- tri-d to conceal 
 60 herself in grief, fear, and shame. "Span-. .h' spare 
 my husband he has ever ln-.-n kind t me ;" and with 
 that she knelt down l>eside him, with her long, soft, white 
 arms, mournfully and affectionately laid across his ne.-k. 
 "Go lh>u, likewise, my sweet little Jamie." said the 
 65 Elder, " -40 even out of my bosom, and kn-.-l down 
 beside thy father and thy mother, so that I may 
 you all at once, and with one yearning praver." The 
 child did as the solemn voice commanded, and knelt 
 down, somewhat timidly, by his father's side; nor did 
 70 the unhappy man decline encircling with his arm, the 
 child too much neglected, but still dear to him as his 
 own blood, in spite of the deadening and debasing influ- 
 ence of infidelity. 
 
 " Put the Word of God into the hands of my son, and 
 7f> let him read aloud to his riving father the 'JAth. 'Jh'th, and 
 ith chapter of tin- Gospel accord- 
 ing to Si. John." The 1'astor went up to the kneetert, 
 and, with a voice of pity, condolence, and pardon, said, 
 "Them irnit a time whe:i none. William, could read 
 HO the Scriptures l>etter than couldst tf""i can it he that 
 the son of my friend hath furynW'n the leMOTO of his 
 youili V" lie had ">/ f-ir-^otten them there WUB no 
 i of the repentant sinner to lift un his eyes from tin- 
 h''<!-;de. Th? sacred stream of the Gospel had worn a 
 M.'i i-lrinii"! in hi-' heart, and the waters were a-^ain flowing. 
 
 1 voice lie -aid. '' J-u< said unto her, 
 .erection and the lift-: \nd whosoever liveth, 
 and believeth in me, shall nev.-r die. /;>/itr<st thoii 
 this ? She sairl unto him, "> 1 helieve thou art 
 
 90 the Christ, tho Son of (Jod, which shoul.i to the 
 
 :ld." 
 " That is not an unbeliever'* voice," said the dyin ;
 
 Ex. 71, 72.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 207 
 
 man triumphantly ; " nor, William, hast thou an unbe - 
 liever's heart. Say that thou lelievest in what thou 
 95 hast now read, and thy father will die happy !" " I do 
 believe ; and as thou forgivest me, so may I be forgiven 
 by my Father who is heaven." The Elder seemed 
 like a man suddenly inspired with a new life. His faded 
 eyes kindled his pale cheeks glowed his palsied 
 
 100 hands seemed to wax strong and his voice was clear 
 as that of manhood in its prime. ( ) Into thy hands, 
 God ! I commit my spirit ;" and so saying, he 
 gently sunk back on his pillow ; and I thought I heard 
 a sigh. There was then a long, deep silence, and 
 
 105 the father, the mother, and the child, rose from their 
 knees. The eyes of us all were turned towards the 
 white, placid face of the figure now stretched in ever- 
 lasting rest ; and without lamentations, save the silent 
 lamentations of the resigned soul, we stood around the 
 
 1 10 DEATH-BED OF THE ELDER. 
 
 . 
 
 EXERCISE 72. 
 
 Benevolence of God. 'CHALMERS. 
 
 It is saying much for the benevolence of God, to say, 
 that a single world, or a single system, is not enough 
 for it that it must have the spread of a mightier region, 
 on which it may pour forth a tide of exuberancy through- 
 6 out all its provinces that, as far as our vision can carry 
 us, it has strewed immensity with the floating recepta- 
 cles of life, and has stretched over each of them the gar- 
 niture of such a sky, as mantles our own habitation 
 and that, even from distances which are far beyond the 
 
 10 reach of human eye, the songs of gratitude and praise 
 may now be arising to the one God, who sits surrounded 
 by the regards of his one great and universal family. 
 
 Now it is saying much for the benevolence of God, to 
 say, that it sends forth these wide and distant emana- 
 
 15 tions over the surface of a territory so ample that the 
 world we inhabit, lying imbedded as it does, amidst so 
 much surrounding greatness, shrinks into a point that 
 to the universal eye might appear to be almost imper- 
 ceptible. But does it not add to the power and to the 
 
 20 perfeetion of this universal eye, that at the very moment
 
 K\I:K( IHI-.<. PART n. [Ex. 72, 73. 
 
 it is taking a comprehensive MIM. \ of tin- vast, it can 
 
 fasten a steady and undistracted attention on each mi- 
 
 nute and separate portion of it ; that at the very mo- 
 
 nicni ii i* looking at all m look most point- 
 
 !'.v ami most intelligently to each of them ; that at the 
 
 v moment it sweeps the tield of immensity, it can 
 
 settle all the earnestness of its regards upon .wry dis- 
 
 tinct handhreath of that field; that at the very mo- 
 
 ment at which it embraces the totality of existence, it 
 
 30 can send a most thorough and penetrating insj 
 
 into each of its details, and into every one of its endless 
 diversities? You cannot fail to perceive how much this 
 adds to the power of the all seeing eye. Tell me, then, 
 if it do not add as much perfection to the benevolence 
 
 35 of God, that while it is expatiating over the vast field 
 of created things, there is not one portion of the field 
 overlooked by it ; that while it scatters blessings over 
 the whole of an infinite range, it causes them to de- 
 scend in a shower of plenty on ever}' separate habita- 
 
 40 tion ; that while his arm is underneath and round about 
 all worlds, he enters within the precincts of every one 
 of them, and gives a care and a tenderness to each in- 
 dividual of their teeming population. Oh! does not the 
 God, who is said to le lo\e, shed over this attribute 
 
 45 of his, its finest illustration! when, while he sits in the 
 highest heaven, and pours out his fullness on the whole 
 subordinate domain of nature and of ProvideoMjBhe 
 bows a pitying regard on the very humblest of his chil 
 dren, and sends his reviving Spirit into e\ery heart, and 
 
 60 cheers by his presence everv home, and pro\idr> for the 
 
 wants of everv family, and watches . . bed, and 
 
 listens to the romplar nd while, 
 
 In his wondrous mind, the weight of universal <;<vem- 
 
 ", oli! i^ it not more wondrous and more 
 
 ellent still, that he feels for every sorrow, and has on 
 
 ear open to every prayer '.' 
 
 r.\ 
 
 (if the /'/-.'//'( XA- f/tarluttt. UoiiLKT HAM.. 
 
 ithout the 
 tv of n moment's immediate preparation, in th 

 
 Ex. 73.] EXERCISES. PART II. * 209 
 
 the deepest tranquillity, at midnight a voice was heard 
 in the palace, not of singing men, and singing women, 
 5 not of revelry and mirth, but the cry, " Behold the 
 bridegroom cometh !" The mother, in the bloom of 
 youth, spared just long enough to hear the tidings of her 
 infant's death, almost immediately, as if summoned by 
 his spirit, follows him into eternity. " It is a night 
 
 10 much to be remembered." Who foretold this event ; 
 who conjectured it ; who detected at a distance the faint- 
 est presage of its approach, which, when it arrived, 
 mocked the efforts of human skill, as much by their in- 
 capacity to prevent, as their inability to foresee it ! Un- 
 
 15 moved by the tears of conjugal affection, unawed by 
 the presence of grandeur, and the prerogatives of power, 
 inexorable death hastened to execute his stern com- 
 mission, leaving nothing to royalty itself, but to retire 
 and weep. Who can fail to discern, on this awful oc- 
 
 20 casion, the hand of Him who " bringeth the princes to 
 nothing, who maketh the judges of the earth as van- 
 ity ;" who says, " They shall not be planted ; yea, they 
 shall not be sown ; yea, their stock shall not take root 
 in the earth ;" and he " shall blow upon them, and they 
 
 25 shall wither, and the whirlwind shall take them away as 
 stubble." 
 
 But is it now any subject of regret, think you, to this 
 amiable Princess so suddenly removed, " that her sun 
 went down while it was yet day," or that, prematurely 
 
 30 snatched from prospects the most brilliant and enchant- 
 ing, she was compelled to close her eyes so soon on a 
 world, of whose grandeur she formed so conspicuous a 
 part ? No ! in the full fruition of eternal joys, for which 
 we humbly hope Religion prepared her, she is so far 
 
 35 from looking back with lingering regret on what she 
 has quitted, that she is surprised it had the power of 
 affecting her so much ; that she took so deep an in- 
 terest in the scenes of this shadowy state of being, while 
 so near to an " eternal weight of glory ;" and, as far as 
 
 40 memory may be supposed to contribute to her happiness 
 by associating the present with the past, it is not the 
 recollection of her illustrious birth, and elevated pros- 
 pects, but that she visited the abodes of the poor, and 
 learned to weep with those that weep ; that, surrounded 
 
 45 with the fascinations of pleasure, she was not inebriated
 
 210 BXEBCMBS. FART II. [El. 73, 74. 
 
 by its charms ; that the resisted the strongest tempta- 
 tions to pride, preserved her cars open to truth, was im- 
 patient of the voice of flattery : in a word, that she sought 
 and cherished the inspirations of piety, and walked humbly 
 
 60 with her God. 
 
 The nation has certainly not been wanting in the 
 proper expression of its poignant regret, at the sudden 
 removal of this most lamented Princess, nor of their 
 sympathy with the royal family, deprived by this vi-it.t 
 
 55 tion of its brightest ornament. Sorrow is painted in 
 every countenance, the pursuits of business and of plea- 
 sure have been suspended, and the kingdom is covered 
 with the signals of distress. But what, my friends, (if 
 it were lawful to indulge such a thought,) what would 
 
 60 be the funeral obsequies of a lott *ml? Where shall 
 we find tears fit to be wept at such a spectacle, or, could 
 we realize the calamity in all its extent, what tokens of 
 commiseration and concern would be deemed equal to 
 the occasion ? Would it suffice for the sun to veil his 
 
 6 light, and the moon her brightness ; to cover the ocean 
 with mourning, and the heavens with sackcloth or, 
 were the whole fabric of nature to become animated 
 and vocal, would it be possible for h-r t<> utter a groan too 
 deep, or a cry too piercing, to express the magnitude 
 
 70 and extent of such a catastrophe ? 
 
 i:\Kitrisi: 7i. 
 
 Rf mark-able Preservation from Death at Sea. 
 
 PHOK. WILSON. 
 
 You have often asked me to describe to you on paper 
 aa event in my life, which at th<- HiMnncr of thirty years, 
 I cannot look back to without horror. No words can 
 give an adequate image of the miseries I suffered daring 
 6 that fearful night ; but I shall try to give you something 
 Kke a faint shadow of them, th.tt from it your soul may 
 conceive what I must have suffer 
 
 I was, you know, on my voyage back to my native 
 country, after an absence of five years spent in uninvr- 
 10 mittim; toil, in ;, :;tnd, to which I had been driv- 
 
 i-n hy .1 singular fatality Our ^"yitge had been most 
 cheerful and properous; and, on Christmas day, we 
 were within fifty league of port. Passengers and crew
 
 Ex. 74.] tXERCISES. PART II. 211 
 
 were all in the highest spirits, and the ship was alive 
 
 15 with mirth and jollity. 
 
 About eight o'clock in the evening, I went on deck. 
 The ship was sailing upon a wind, at the rate of seven 
 knots an hour, and there was a wild grandeur in the 
 night. A strong snow-storm blew, but steadily, and 
 
 20 without danger ; and, now and then, when the strug- 
 gling moonlight overcame the sleety and misty dark- 
 ness, we saw, for some distance round us, the agitated 
 sea all tumbling with foam. There were no shoals to 
 fear, and the ship kept boldly on her course, close reef- 
 
 25 ed, and mistress of the storm. I leaned over the gun- 
 wale, admiring the water rushing past like a foaming 
 cataract, when, by some unaccountable accident, I lost 
 my balance, and in an instant fell overboard into the sea. 
 I remember a convulsive shuddering all over my body, 
 
 30 and a hurried leaping of my heart, as I felt myself about 
 to lose hold of the vessel, and afterwards a sensation of 
 the most icy chillness, from immersion into the waves, but 
 nothing resembling a fall or precipitation. When below 
 the water, I think that a momentary belief rushed across 
 
 35 my mind, that the ship had suddenly sunk, and that I 
 was but one of a perishing crew. I imagined that I felt 
 a hand with long fingers clutching at my legs, and made 
 violent efforts to escape, dragging after me, as I thought, 
 the body of some drowning wretch. On rising to the 
 
 40 surface, I recollected in a moment what had befallen 
 me, and uttered a cry of horror, which is in my ears to 
 this day, and often makes me shudder, as if it were the 
 mad shriek of another person ' in extremity of perilous 
 agony. Often have I dreamed over again that dire mo- 
 
 45 ment, and the cry I utter in my sleep is said to be some- 
 thing more horrible than a human voice. No ship was 
 to be seen. She was gone forever. The little happy 
 world to which, a moment before, I had belonged, had 
 swept by, and I felt that God had flung me at once from 
 
 50 the heart of joy, delight, and happiness, into the utter- 
 most abyss of mortal misery and despair. Yes! I felt 
 that the Almighty God had done this, that there was 
 an act, a fearful act of Providence ; and miserable worm 
 that I was, I thought that the act was cruel, and a sort 
 
 65 of wild, indefinite, objectless rage and wrath assailed me, 
 and took for awhile the place of that first shrieking ter-
 
 213 XECISES. PART 11. [Ex. 74. 
 
 ror. I gnashed my teeth, and cursed myself, and* 
 with bitter tears and yells, blasphemed the name of God. 
 It, i> trur. ii. \ friend, that 1 did so. God forgave that 
 
 00 wickedness. Tin- He. ing, whom 1 then cursed, was, in 
 his tender mercy, not unmindful of me, of me, a- poor, 
 blind, miserable, mistaken worm. But the waves dash- 
 ed on me, and struck me on the face, and howled at 
 me; and the winds yelled, and the. snow beat like drift - 
 
 65 ing sand into my eyes. and the .ship, the ihip was 
 gone, and there was I left to struggle, and bullet, and 
 gasp, and sink, and perish ; alone, unseen, and unpitied 
 by man, and, as I thought too, by the everlasting God. 
 1 tried to penetrate the surrounding darkness \\uli my 
 
 70 glaring eyes, that felt leaping from their sockets; and 
 saw, as if by miraculous power, to a great distance 
 through the night; but no shiji, nothing but white- 
 crested waves, and the dismal noise of thunder. 1 shout- 
 ed, shrieked, and yelled, that I might be heard by the 
 
 75 crew, till my voice was gone, and that too, when I 
 knew that there were none to hear me. At last I be- 
 came utterly speechless, and, when I tried to call aloud, 
 there was nothing but a silent gasp and convulsion, 
 while the waves came upon me like stunning blows, re- 
 
 80 iterated, and drove me along, like a log of wood, or a 
 dead animal. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 All this time I was not conscious of any act of swim- 
 ming ; but I soon found that I had instinctively been 
 exerting all my power and skill, and both were requisite 
 to keep me alive in the tumultuous wake of the ship. 
 5 Something struck me harder than a wave. What it 
 was I knew not ; but I grasped it with a passionate vio- 
 lence, for the hope of salvation came suddenly over me, 
 and with a sudden transition from despair, 1 felt that I 
 was rescued. 1 had the same thought as if I had been 
 
 10 suddenly heaved on shore by a wave. The crew had 
 thrown overboard every thing they thought could afford 
 me the slightest chance of escape from death, and a 
 hen-coop had drifted towards me. At once all the sto- 
 ries I had ever read of mariners miraculously saved at 
 
 16 sea, rushed across my recollection. I had an object to 
 cling to, which I knew would enable me to prolong my
 
 Ex. 74.] EXERCISES. PART II. 213 
 
 existence. I was no longer helpless on the cold, welter- 
 ing world of waters ; and, the thought that my friends 
 were thinking of me, and doing all they could for me, 
 
 20 gave to me a wonderful courage. I may yet pass the 
 night in the ship, I thought ; and I looked round eagerly 
 to hear the rush of her prow, or to see through the snow- 
 drift the gleaming of her sails. 
 
 This was but a momentary gladness. The ship I knew 
 
 25 could not be far off, but, for any good she could do me, 
 she might have been in the heart of the Atlantic Ocean. 
 Ere she could have altered her course, I must have 
 drifted a long way to leewai'd ; and in that dim snowy 
 night, how was such a speck to be seen ? I saw a flash 
 
 30 of lightning, and then there was thunder. It was the 
 ship firing a gun, to let me know, if still alive, that she 
 was somewhere lying to. But wherefore ? I was sepa- 
 rated from her by a dire necessity, by many thousand 
 fierce waves, that would not let my shrieks be heard. 
 
 35 Each succeeding gun was heard fainter and fainter, till 
 at last I cursed the sound, that, scarcely heard above 
 the hollow rumbling of the tempestuous sea, told me, 
 that the ship was farther and farther off, till she and her 
 heartless crew had left me to my fate. Why did they 
 
 40 not send out all their boats to row round and round all 
 the night through, for the sake of one whom they pre- 
 tended to love so well ? I blamed, blessed, and cursed 
 them by fits, till every emotion of my soul was exhausted, 
 and I clung in sullen despair to the wretched piece of 
 
 45 wood, that still kept me from eternity. 
 
 Every thing was now seen in its absolute, dreadful 
 reality. I was a Castaway no hope of rescue. It was 
 broad daylight, and the storm had ceased ; but clouds 
 lay round the horizon, and no land was to be seen. 
 
 50 What dreadful clouds ! Some black as pitch and charged 
 with thunder ; others like cliffs of fire ; and here and 
 there all streamered over with blood. It was indeed a 
 sullen, wrathful, and despairing sky. The sun itself was 
 a dull brazen orb, cold, dead, and beamless. I beheld 
 
 65 three ships afar off, but all their heads were turned 
 away from me. For whole hours they would adhere 
 motionless to the sea, while I drifted away from them ; 
 and then a rushing wind would spring up, and carry 
 them, one by one, into the darkness of the stormy dis-
 
 214 EXEBCUE8. TAET II. [El. 74, 75. 
 
 CO tance. Many birds came close to me, as if to flap me 
 with their large spreading wings, screamed round and 
 round me, and then flew away in their strength, and 
 beauty, and happiness. 
 
 1 now felt myself indi-rd dying. A calm came over 
 
 65 me. 1 prayed devoutly for forgiveness of my sins, and 
 for all my friends on earth. A ringing was in my Mrs, 
 and I remember only the hollow fluctuations of the sea, 
 with which 1 seemed to be l>!< n<l-tl. and a sinking down 
 and down an unfathomable d.-ptli, which I thought was 
 
 70 Death, and into the kingdom oi tin* t-t<rnal Future. 
 
 I awoke from insensibility and oblivion with a hideous, 
 racking pain in my head and loins, and in a place of utter 
 darkness. 1 heard a voice say, " Praise the Lord." My 
 agony was dreadful, and 1 cncd aloud. Wan, glimmer- 
 
 75 ing, melancholy lights, kept moving to and fro. 1 heard 
 dismal whisperings, and now and then a pale silent ghost 
 glided by. A hideous din was over head, and around 
 me the tierce dashing of the waves. Was 1 in the land 
 of spirits ? But, why strive to recount the mortal pain 
 
 80 of my recovery, the soul-humbling gratitude that took 
 possession of my being ? I was lying in the cabin of a 
 ship, and kindly tended by a humane and skillful man. 
 I had been picked up apparently dead and cold. The 
 hand of God was there. Adieu, my dear friend. It is 
 
 85 now the hour of rest, and I hasten to fall down on my 
 knees before the merciful Being who took pity upon me, 
 and who, at the intercession of oar Redeemer, may, I 
 hope, pardon all my sins. 
 
 EXERCISE 75. 
 The Bible the best Classic. GRUIKJC. 
 
 To the Parent, I would say, your offspring are the 
 children of God. On you they depend for eduoation. 
 God has commanded you to train them betimes, to know 
 and to serve, to love and to enjoy him. The paths of 
 5 business are equally the paths of temptation and duty. 
 Religion belongs to every thought, and word, and deed. 
 As then the Bible is the only standard of duty, why do 
 you not interweave it with the whole scheme of secular 
 i ? To the I nt true tor, 1 would say, you
 
 Ex. 75, 76.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 215 
 
 10 in the place of Parent and Guardian. Their duties are 
 unquestionably yours. To you is transferred, not only 
 the obligation to teach, but more especially the selection 
 of appropriate books, and the regulation of the order and 
 proportion of studies. What Parent or Guardian has 
 
 15 ever interfered with your plans? How entirely, and 
 with what a cordial confidence, have they appointed you 
 to think, to consult, to decide, to act for them ? Why 
 then have you excluded the Bible of those very Parents 
 and Guardians, from the whole scheme for the educa- 
 
 20 tion of their children and wards ? To the Patriot, I 
 would say, Can you doubt, that to the Bible your coun- 
 try owes not only her religious liberty, and her entire 
 moral condition, but, to a great extent, her civil and po- 
 litical rights, her science, literature and arts? The Bi- 
 
 25 ble is emphatically the book of truth and knowledge, of 
 freedom and happiness to your country. Children you 
 regard as public property ; and you know, that they will 
 honor and serve their country best, the more they are 
 instructed in the Scriptures, and imbued with their spi- 
 
 30 rit. Why then, do you withhold the full benefit of those 
 sacred oracles, by thus proscribing them, in every scheme 
 of education ? To the Christian, I would say, you ad- 
 mit the divinity of the Scriptures, their absolute author- 
 ity, and inestimable worth. You concede, that they are 
 
 35 the common property of all ; that even children may 
 profit by them, since they are so simple and plain, that 
 the wayfaring man, though a fool, shall not err therein. 
 Why then do you not give them this lamp of life, as well 
 as the lamp of knowledge to guide them daily, with har- 
 
 40 monious beams, in their preparation for the inseparable 
 duties and business of life ? To the Scholar, I would 
 say, we offer you a more ancient, venerable, noble clas- 
 sic, than is to be found in the whole compass of Grecian 
 and Roman Literature. 
 
 EXERCISE 76. 
 Fathers of New England. SPKAGUE. 
 
 Behold ! they come those sainted forms, 
 Unshaken through the strife of storms ;
 
 216 KXERC18E8. PART I [ Kx. 76. 
 
 Heaven's winter cloud hangs coldly down, 
 And earth jmt- n ii> rudest frown; 
 Hut e,,lder, ruder was the hand, 
 That drove tin-in lii'iii their <>\\i\ fair land, 
 Tin ir own fair land Refinement's chosen seal, 
 Art's trophied dwelling, Learning's green retreat ; 
 By valor guarded, and hy victory crown'd, 
 For all, but gentle charity, n-nown'd. 
 With streaming eye, yet steadfast heart, 
 Even from that land they dared to part, 
 
 And burst each tender tie ; 
 Haunts, where their sunny youth was pass'd, 
 Homes, where they fondly hoped at last 
 
 In peaceful age to die ; 
 Friends, kindred, comfort, all they spurn'd 
 
 Their fathers' hallow'd graves ; 
 And to a world of darkness turn'd, 
 Beyond a world of waves. 
 
 2 When Israel's race from bondage fled, . 
 Signs from on high the wanderers led ; 
 But here Heaven hung no symbol 1 
 Tlicir steps to guide, their souls to ch' 
 They saw, through sorrow's lengthening night 
 Nought but the fagot's guilty light ; 
 
 The cloud they gazed at was the smoke, 
 That round their murder'd brethren broke ; 
 Nor power above, nor power below, 
 Sustain'd them in their hour of woe ; 
 
 A fearful path they trod, 
 
 And dared a fearful doom, 
 To build an altar to their God, 
 
 And find a quiet tomb. 
 
 3 Yet, strong in weakness, there they stand, 
 
 On yonder ice-bound rock, 
 Stern and resolved, that faithful band, 
 
 To meet fate's rudest shock. 
 Though ati<,'ui>li rends the father's bread, 
 For them, his dearest and his best 
 
 With him the waste who trod 
 Though tears that freeze, the mother sheds 
 Upon her children's houseless heads 
 
 The Christian turns to Ood !
 
 Ex. 76.] EXBRCISEB PART II. 217 
 
 4 In grateful adoration now, 
 Upon the barren sands they bow. 
 
 What tongue of joy e'er woke such prayer, 
 As bursts in desolation there? 
 What arm of strength e'er wkmght such power, 
 As waits to crown that feeble hour ? 
 There into life an infant empire springs ! 
 There falls the iron from the soul ; 
 There Liberty's young accents roll, 
 
 Up to the King of kings ! 
 To fair creation's farthest bound, 
 That thrilling summons yet shall sound ; 
 The dreaming nations shall awake, 
 And to their centre earth's old kingdoms shake. 
 Pontiff and prince, your sway 
 Must crumble from that day ; 
 Before the loftier throne of Heaven, 
 The hand is raised, the pledge is given 
 One monarch to obey, one creed to own, 
 That monarch, God, that creed, His word alone. 
 
 5 Spread out earth's holiest records here 
 Of days and deeds to virtue dear ; 
 
 A zeal like this what pious legends tell ? 
 On kingdoms built 
 In blood and guilt, 
 
 The worshipers of vulgar triumph dwell 
 But what exploit with theirs shall page, 
 
 Who rose to bless their kind ; 
 Who left their nation and their age, 
 Man's spirit to unbind ? 
 Who boundless seas passed o'er, 
 And boldly met in every path, 
 Famine and frost, and heathen wrath, 
 
 To dedicate a shore, 
 
 Where Piety's meek train might breathe their vow, 
 And seek their Maker with an unshamed brow ; 
 Where Liberty's glad race might proudly come, 
 And set up there an everlasting home ? 
 
 10
 
 218 F.XERCISE8. PART II. [Ex. 77 
 
 KXKIiriSE 77. 
 Duty of Literary Men to their Country. GKIMKE. 
 
 We cannot honor our country with too deep a rever- 
 ence ; we cannot love her with an affection too pure 
 and fervent ; we cannot serve her with an energy of 
 purpose or a faithfulness of zeal too steadfast and ar- 
 5 dent. And what is our country ? It is not the East, with 
 her hills and her valleys, with her countless sails, and the 
 rocky ramparts of her shores. It is not the North, with 
 her thousand villages, and her harvest-home, with her 
 frontiers of the lake and the ocean. It is not the 
 
 10 West with her forest-sea and her inland-isles, with her 
 luxuriant expanses, clothed in the verdant corn, with 
 her beautiful Ohio and her majestic Missouri. Nor is 
 it yet the South, opulent in the mimic snow of the cot- 
 ton, in the rich plantations of the rustling cane, and 
 
 15 in the golden robes of the rice-field. What are these 
 but the sister families of one greater, better, holier 
 family, ouu COUNTRY ? I come not here to speak the 
 dialect, or to give the counsels of the patriot-states- 
 man. But I come, a patriot-scholar, to vindicate the 
 
 20 rights and to plead for the interests of the American Lit- 
 erature. And be assured, that we cannot, as patriot- 
 scholars, think too highly of that country, or sacrifice 
 too much for her. And let us never forget, let us 
 rather remember, with a religious awe, that the union 
 
 25 of these States is indispensable to our Literature, as it 
 is to our national independence and civil liberties, to 
 our prosperity, happiness, and improvement. If, in- 
 deed, we desire to behold a Literature like that, which 
 has sculptured with such energy of expression, which 
 
 30 has paint. '1 M faithfully and vividly, the crim< 
 
 vices, the follies of ancient and modern Europe : if 
 we desire that our land should furnish for the ora- 
 tor and the no\tli>t. for the painter and the poet, age 
 after age, the wild and romantic scenery of war . 
 
 35 glittering march of armies, and the revelry of the 
 camp ; the .-hri.-k- ami U.isphemies, and all the horrors 
 of the battle-field ; the desolation of the harvest, and the
 
 Ex. 77, 78.] EXKKCISES. PART ii. 219 
 
 burning cottage ; the storm, the sack, and the ruin of 
 
 40 cities ; if we desire to unchain the furious passions of 
 jealousy and selfishness, of hatred, revenge, and ambition, 
 those lions? that now sleep harmless in their den ; if we 
 desire, that the lake, the river, the ocean, should blush 
 with the blood of brothers ; that the winds should waft 
 
 45 from the laud to the sea, from the sea to the land, the 
 roar and the smoke of battle ; that the very mountain- 
 tops should become altars for the sacrifice of brothers ; 
 if we desire that these, and such as these the elements 
 to an incredible extent, of the Literature of the old 
 
 50 world should be the elements of our Literature ; then, 
 but then only, let us hurl from its pedestal the majestic 
 statue of our Union, and scatter its fragments over ail 
 our land. But, if we covet for our country the noblest, 
 purest, loveliest Literature the world has ever seen, such 
 
 65 a Literature as shall honor God, and bless mankind ; a 
 Literature, whose smiles might play upon an angel's 
 face, whose tears "would not stain an angel's cheek;" 
 then let us cling to the union of these States, with a 
 patriot's love, with a scholar's enthusiasm, with a Chris- 
 
 60 tian's hope. In her heavenly character, as a holocaust 
 self-sacrificed to God ; at the hight of her glory, as the 
 ornament of a free, educated, peaceful, Christian people, 
 American Literature will find that THE INTELLECTUAL 
 
 SPIRIT IS HER VERY TREE OF LIFE, AND THAT UNION, HER 
 65 GARDEN OF PARADISE. 
 
 EXERCISE 78. 
 Eulogy on Adams and Jefferson. WIRT. 
 
 Such was the state of things under which the Congress 
 
 of 1776 assembled, when Adams and Jefferson again 
 
 met. It was, as you know, in this Congress, that the 
 
 question of American Independence came, for the first 
 
 6 time, to be discussed ; and never, certainly, has a more 
 
 momentous question been discussed in any age or in any 
 
 country ; for, it was fraught, not only with the destinies 
 
 of this wide extended continent, but as the event has 
 
 shown, and is still showing, with the destinies of man all 
 
 10 over the world.
 
 v.",0 KXKK i.-i . i \KI a. [Ex.78. 
 
 Amid tliis appalling array that surrounded them, the 
 first to enter the breach, sword in hand, was John Adams 
 the vision of his youth at hi* heart, and his country 
 in every nerve. On the sixth of May, he offered, in com- 
 
 15 mittee of the whole, the significant resolution, that the 
 
 colonies should form ^<>\. nuin-nts irnle|M-nilent of the 
 
 AH. This was the harbinger of more important 
 
 measures, and seems to have U-. n put forward to feel 
 
 the pulse of the House. The resolution, after a severe 
 
 20 struggle, was adopted on the 15th of May following. 
 On the 7th of June, by previous concert, Richard Henry 
 Lee moved the great resolution of Independence, and 
 was seconded by John Adams ; and " then came the tug 
 of war." The debate upon it was continued from the 
 
 25 7th to the 10th, when the further consideration of it 
 was postponed to the 1st of July, and at the same time 
 a committee of five was appointed to prepare, provis- 
 ionally, the draught of a Declaration of Independence. 
 At the head of this important committee, Inch was then 
 
 30 appointed by a vote of the House, although he was prob- 
 ably the youngest member, and one of the youngest men 
 in the House, for he had served only part of the former 
 session, and was but thirty-two years of age, stands the 
 name of Thomas Jefferson Mr. Adams's stands next. 
 
 35 And these two gentlemen, having been deputed a sub- 
 committee to prepare the draught, that draught, at Mr. 
 Adams's earnest importunity, was prepared by his more 
 youthful friend. Of this transaction Mr. Adams is him- 
 self the historian, and the authorship of the Declaration, 
 
 40 though once disputed, is thus placed forever beyond the 
 reach of question. 
 
 The final debate on the resolution was postponed, as 
 we have seen, for nearly a month. In toe meantime, 
 all who are conversant with th- , .f action of all 
 
 45 deliberative bodies, know how much is done by conver- 
 sation among the members. It is not often, indeed, that 
 proselytes are made on great questions by public debate. 
 On such questions, opinions are far more frequently 
 formed in ]>rivate, and so formed, that debate is seldom 
 
 60 known to change them. Hence the value of t In- 
 door talent of chamlxr consultation, where objections, 
 candidly stated, are candidly, calmly, and mildly dis- 
 cussed ; where neither pride, not shame, nor anger, take
 
 Ex. 78, 79.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 221 
 
 part in the discussion, nor stand in the way of a correct 
 
 55 conclusion ; but where every thing being conducted 
 frankly, delicately, respectfully, and kindly, the better 
 cause and the better reasoner are almost always sure 
 of success. In this kind of service, as well as in all 
 that depended on the power of composition, Mr. Jefferson 
 
 60 was as much a master-magician, as his eloquent friend 
 Adams was in debate. They were, in truth, hemis- 
 pheres of the same golden globe, and required only to be 
 brought and put together, to prove that they were parts 
 of the same heaven-formed whole. 
 
 65 On the present occasion, however, much still remain- 
 ed to be effected by debate. The first of July came, 
 and the great debate on the resolution for Independence 
 was resumed with fresh spirit. The discussion was 
 again protracted for two days, which, in addition to the 
 
 70 former three, were sufficient, in that age, to call out all 
 
 the speaking talent of the House. * * * * 
 
 Mr. Jefferson has told us, that " the Colossus of that 
 
 . Congress the great pillar of support to the Declaration 
 
 of Independence, and its ablest advocate and champion 
 
 75 on the floor of the House, was John Adams." 
 
 ********* 
 
 The resolution having been carried, the draught of 
 the Declaration came to be examined in detail ; and, so 
 faultless had it issued from the hands of its author, that 
 
 80 it was adopted as he had prepared it, pruned only of a 
 few of its brightest inherent beauties, through a prudent 
 deference to some of the States. It was adopted about 
 noon of the Fourth, and proclaimed to an exulting nation, 
 on the evening of the same day. 
 
 85 That brave and animated band who signed it where 
 are they now ? What heart does not sink at the ques- 
 tion? One only survives: CHARLES CARROLL, of Car- 
 rollton a noble specimen of the age that has gone by, 
 and now the single object of that age, on whom the vene- 
 
 90 ration and prayers of his country are concentrated. 
 
 EXERCISE 79. 
 
 The Greek Revolution. WEBSTER. 
 The end and scope of this amalgamated policy is 
 neither more nor less than this ; to interfere, by force,
 
 2*29 BZBIOIBE8. PART II. [Kx.7fl. 
 
 for any government, against any people who may resist 
 it. Be the state of the people what it may, they shall 
 5 not rise; be the government what it will, it shall not 
 be opposed. The practical commentary has correspond- 
 ed with the plain language of the text. Look at Spain 
 and at Greece. If men may not resist the Spanish 
 inquisition, and the Turkish cimiter, what is there to 
 
 10 which humanity must not submit? Stronger cases can 
 m-ver arise. Is it not proper for us, at all times Is it 
 not our duty, at this time, to come forth, and deny, and 
 condemn, these monstrous principles ? Where, but here 
 and in one other place, are they likely to be resisted ? 
 
 15 They are advancing with equal coolness and boldness ; 
 and they are supported by immense power. The timid 
 will shrink and give way and many of the brave may 
 be compelled to yield to force. Human liberty may yet, 
 perhaps, be obliged to repose its principal hopes on the 
 
 20 intelligence and the vigor of the Saxon race. As far 
 as depends on us, at least, I trust those hopes will not 
 be disappointed ; and that, to the extent which may con- 
 sist with our own settled, pacific policy, our opinions and 
 sentiments may be brought to act on the right side, and 
 
 25 to the right end, on an occasion which is, in truth, 
 nothing less than a momentous question between an in- 
 telligent age, full of knowledge, thirsting for improve- 
 ment, and quickened by a thousand impulses, and t In- 
 most arbitrary pretensions, sustained by unprecedented 
 
 30 power. 
 
 In four days, the fire and the sword of the Turk, ren- 
 dered the beautiful Scio a clotted mass of blood and 
 ashes. The details are too shocking to be recited. Forty 
 thousand women and children, unhappily saved from the 
 
 35 general destruction, were afterwards sold in the market 
 of Smyrna, and sent off into distant and hopeless servi- 
 tude. Even on the wharves of our own cities, it has 
 been said, have been sold the utensils of those hearths 
 which now exist no longer. Of the whole population 
 
 40 which I have mentioned, not above 900 persons were 
 left living upon the island. I will only repeat, sir, that 
 these tragical scenes were as fully known at the Con- 
 gress of Vienna, as th> ' known to us; and it is 
 . not too much to call on the powers that constituted that 
 
 46 Congress, in the name of conscience, and in the name
 
 *, 
 Ex. 79, 80.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 223 
 
 of humanity, to tell us if there be nothing even in these 
 unparalleled excesses of Turkish barbarity, to excite a sen- 
 timent of compassion ; nothing which they regard as so 
 objectionable as even the very idea of popular resistance 
 
 50 to arbitrary power. * * * 
 
 I close, then, sir, with repeating, that the object of 
 this resolution is, to avail ourselves of the interesting 
 occasion of the Greek revolution, to make our protest 
 against the doctrines of the Allied Powers ; both as they 
 
 55 are laid down in principle, and as they are applied in 
 practice. 
 
 I think it right, too, sir, not to be unseasonable in the 
 expression of our regard, and, as far as that goes, in a 
 ministration of our consolation to a long oppressed and 
 
 60 now struggling people. I am not of those who would in 
 the hour of utmost peril, withhold such encouragement 
 as might be properly and lawfully given, and when the 
 crisis should be passed, overwhelm the rescued sufferer 
 with kindness and caresses. The Greeks address the 
 
 65 civilized world with a pathos not easy to be resisted. 
 They invoke our favor by more moving considerations 
 than can well belong to the condition of any other people. 
 They stretch out their arms to the Christian communities 
 of the earth, beseeching them, by a generous recollection 
 
 70 of their ancestors; by the consideration of their own 
 desolated and ruined cities and villages ; by their wives 
 and children, sold into an accursed slavery ; by their own 
 blood, which they seem willing to pour out like water ; 
 by the common faith, and in the Name which unites all 
 
 *I5 Christians, that they would extend to them, at least some 
 token of compassionate regard. 
 
 EXERCISE 80. 
 Triumph of the Gospel. PHILLIP. 
 
 Whatever may be said scoffingly, or in earnest, about 
 the march of intellect, the age in which we live is 
 more distinguished than perhaps any other, by the march 
 and triumph of enlightened, religious, and moral prin- 
 ciple. Even the world itself seems to have forebodings 
 of an approaching change ; all creatures sigh to be re- 
 newed ; the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in
 
 XXJBRCUKS. fAT II. [Ex. 8O 
 
 pain together. There is at present a restlessne** and 
 an apprehension uu the public mind, in relation to com- 
 
 10 in^ something resembling the uneasiness and 
 
 anxiety occasioned by the atmosphere, which is some- 
 times tin- forerunner of an earthquake; like Jerusalem, 
 when Christ entered it on his way to Calvary the 
 whole world seems to be moved in short, all nature 
 
 15 sec' upathize with us, who have the tirst fruits of 
 
 the Spirit, while we groan within ourselves, waiting for 
 the adoption, to wit. the redemption of our be 
 have every reason to believe that we are at this moment 
 standing on the brink of a great moral revolution. The 
 
 20 Angel of the Apocalypse, having the everlasting Gospel 
 to preach to them that dwell in the uttermost parts of 
 the earth, is now on the wing; the shadow of dealt) is 
 in many parts turned into the morning ; the dawn of 
 that day which is to renovate the dominions of darkness 
 
 25 has arisen upon us ; the delightful anticipations of for- 
 mer ages begin to be realized ; the splendid visions of 
 prophecy are now embodying before our eyes ; and 
 from the altar of God a fire has been kindled, which, 
 like the last conflagration, will continue to burn, till the 
 
 SO elements of corruption shall burn with fervent heat till 
 the earth, or political 1 which are unfavorable t<> 
 
 the progress of divine truth, shall be purified, or shall 
 pass away with a great noise till every idol in the hea- 
 then world shall be consumed till the present system 
 
 85 of things shall give place to the new heavens and the 
 new earth till the celestial voice shall salute our ears, 
 " Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will 
 dwell with them, and thry shall In- his people, and he 
 will be their God." 
 
 40 Were yonder sun turned into darkness and the moon 
 into blood ; were the whole frame of nature dissolved, 
 God would n-niain. <;.<! would be the same in himself 
 as he now is ; Imt the promise* contain, virtually con- 
 tain the \<- r a<ity of rod ; and when it is said that the 
 
 45 glory of the Ix>rd shall cover the earth, as the waters 
 
 cover the channels of the groat deep, it is enough for 
 
 me that the mouth <>f th.- Lord hath spoken it. I take 
 
 my stand upon the high table-land of promise, and look 
 
 ard with certainty to the period, when all the pro- 
 
 50 miseg, which respect th future grandeur of .Christ's
 
 Ex. 80, 81.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 225 
 
 kingdom, shall be accomplished. Arise and shine, for 
 thy light is come ; let the Directors of this Society arise 
 and shine ; let the churches of London arise and shine ; 
 let the ministers of London arise and shine ; let the rich 
 
 55 professors of religion arise and shine. Zion, the joy of 
 the whole earth, shall arise and shine, for the glory of 
 the Lord has arisen upon her; her palaces shall be 
 adorned by the just and good of all ages. Multitudes 
 who live in regions far remote, and myriads yet to come, 
 
 60 will arise to call her blessed : the barbarous nations shall 
 attend at her gates, the numerous tribes of Africa, the 
 millions of Madagascar, and the teeming population of 
 India, and of China, shall be seen pressing forward to 
 her hallowed courts, bending in her sanctuary, and offer- 
 
 65 ing unto God the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving 
 The wealth of the nations shall be brought into her 
 treasury, the martial trumpet shall be suspended on her 
 battlements, and the temple of peace shall exhibit the 
 sword and spear, to remind us of the triumph of the 
 
 70 Gospel. Kings' daughters shall be among her honorable 
 women, the daughter of Tyre shall be there with a gift, 
 the gold of Sheba and Seba shall be offered unto her, 
 and the rich among the people shall entreat her favor ; 
 the light himself shall shine revealed from Heaven, and 
 
 75 one tide of glory, one unclouded blaze, shall overflow her 
 courts.- 
 
 EXERCISE 81. 
 Duties and Prospects of New England. PRES. QUINCY. 
 
 And now, standing at this hour on the dividing line 
 which separates the ages that are past, from those which 
 are to come, ho\v solemn is the thought that not one of 
 this vast assembly not one of that great multitude who 
 5 now throng our streets, rejoice in our fields, and make 
 our hills echo with their gratulations, shall live to witness 
 the next return of the era we this day celebrate ! The 
 dark veil of futurity conceals from human sight the fate 
 of cities and nations, as well as of individuals. Man 
 10 passes away ; generations are but shadows ; there is 
 nothing stable but truth ; principles only are immortal. 
 
 What, then, in conclusion of this great topic, are the 
 elements of the liberty, prosperity, and safety, which the 
 10*
 
 EXEECIBEB. - FART II. ( K\ 
 
 inhabitants of New England at i :ijoy? In what 
 
 15 language, ami concerning what comprehensive truths, doe 
 the wisdom of former times address the inexperience of 
 t he future ? 
 
 Those elements are simple, obvious, and familiar. 
 Every civil and religious blessing of New England, all 
 20 that here gives happiness to human life, or security t<> 
 human virtue, is alone to be perpetuated in the forms and 
 under the auspices of a free commonwealth. 
 
 The commonwealth itself lias no other strength or hope, 
 than the intelligence and virtue of the individuals that 
 25 compose it 
 
 For the intelligence and virtue of individuals, there is 
 no other human assurance than laws, providing for the 
 (duration <(" the whole people. 
 
 These laws themselves have no strength, or efficient 
 
 30 sanction, except in the moral and accountable nature of 
 
 man, disclosed in the records of the Christian's faith, the 
 
 right to read, to construe, and to judge concerning which, 
 
 belongs to no class or caste of men, but exclusively to the 
 
 individual, who must stand or fall by his own acts and his 
 
 85 own faith, and not by those of another. 
 
 The great comprehensive truths, written in letters of 
 living light on every page of our history, the language 
 addressed by every past age of New England to all future 
 ages is this : Human happiness has no perfect xecurily 
 40 but freedom; -freedom none but virtue ; virtue none but 
 knowledge ; and neither freedom, nor virtue, nor knowledge 
 has any vigor, or immortal hope, except in the principles 
 of the C hristian faith, and in the sanctions of the Christian 
 
 lion. 
 
 45 Men of Massachusetts ! Citizens of Boston ! Descend- 
 
 ants of the i arly emigrants! Consider your bles^; 
 
 murder your duties. You have an inlieritani-e ji.-.juii'-d 
 
 i)\- the labors ami sulierings of six successive generations 
 
 of ancestors. They founded the fabric of your prosper- 
 
 50 ity, in a severe and ma.s.'uline morality; having intdli- 
 
 < e for its cement, and religion for its groundwork. 
 
 Continue to build on the same foundation, and by the 
 
 same principles; let the extending temple of your coun- 
 
 freedom rise, iii the spirit of ancient times, in pro- 
 
 55 portions of intellectual ana moral architecture, just, 
 
 MID pie. and sublime. As from the first to this day. let
 
 Ex. 81, 82.] EXERCISES. PART II. 
 
 New England continue to be an example to the world, 
 of the blessings of a free government, and of the means 
 and capacity of man to maintain it. And, in all times to 
 60 come, as in all times past, may Boston be among the fore- 
 most and boldest to exemplify and uphold whatever con- 
 stitutes the prosperity, the happiness, and the glory of 
 New England. 
 
 EXERCISE 82. 
 The Sabbath School Teacher. JAMES. 
 
 My fancy has sometimes presented me with this picture 
 
 of a faithful Sabbath school teacher's enirance to the state 
 
 of her everlasting rest. The agony of dissolution is closed, 
 
 the triumph of faith completed, and the conquering spirit 
 
 5 hastens to her crown. 
 
 Upon the confines of the heavenly world, a form divinely 
 fair awaits her arrival. Wrapt in astonishment at the 
 dazzling glory of this celestial inhabitant, and as yet a 
 stranger in the world of spirits, she inquires, " Is this 
 
 10 Gabriel, chief of all the heavenly hosts, and am I honored 
 
 with his aid to guide me to the throne of God ?" 
 s With a smile of ineffable delight, such as gives fresh 
 beauty to an angel's countenance, the mystic form replies, 
 Dost thou remember little Elizabeth, who was in yonder 
 
 15 world a Sunday scholar in thy class ? Dost thou recollect 
 the child who wept as thou talkedst to her of sin, and 
 directed her to the cross of the dying Redeemer ? God 
 smiled with approbation upon thy effort, and by his own 
 Spirit sealed the impression upon her heart in characters 
 
 20 never to be effaced. 
 
 Providence removed her from beneath thy care, before 
 the fruit of thy labor was visible. The seed, however, 
 had taken root, and it was the business of another to 
 water what thou didst sow. Cherished by the influence 
 
 25 of Heaven, the plant of religion flourished in her heart 
 and shed its fragrance upon her character. 
 
 Piety, after guarding her from the snares of youth, 
 cheered her amidst the accumulated trials of an afflicted 
 life, supported her amidst the agonies of her last conflict, 
 
 80 and elevated her to the mansions of immortality : and 
 now behold before thee the glorified spirit of that poor
 
 228 KXEftCJBEB. PAX T II [Ex. 89, 88. 
 
 child, who, under God, owes the eternal lift- on which she 
 has lately entered, to thy faithful labors in the Sunday 
 School; and who is now sent by our Redeemer to intm 
 
 35 duce thee to tin- world of ^Imy, as thy first and least re- 
 ward for guiding the om-e t In. ii-jlu !<>>, ignorant, wicked 
 Elizabeth to the world of grace. Hail, happy spirit ' 
 Hail, favored of the Lord ! Hail, deliverer of my soul ! 
 Hail, to the world of eternal glory ! 
 
 40 I can trace the scene BO farther. I cannot paint the 
 raptures produced in the honored tia. h, r's bosom by this 
 unexpected interview. I cannot depict the mutual grati- 
 tude and love of two such spirits meeting on the confines 
 of heaven ; much less can I follow them to their overlast- 
 
 45 ing man>in and disclose the bliss which they shall enjoy 
 before the throne of God. All this, and a thousand times 
 more, is attendant upon the salvation of one single soul. 
 Teachers, what a motive to diligence ! 
 
 EXERCISE 83. 
 Motivet of tkf Gotpel. D WIGHT. 
 
 To this divine, this indispensable employment, every 
 motive calls you, which ran reach the heart of virtue, 
 or wisdom. The terms, on which these blessings of the 
 Gospel arc offered, are of all terms the most reasonable. 
 5 You are summoned to no sacrifice but of sin, and shame. 
 and wretchedness. No service is demanded of you, but 
 services of gain, and glory. " My son, give me thine 
 heart," is the requisition which involves them all. 
 
 Remember how vast, how multiplied, how noble, these 
 
 10 blessings are! Remember that tin- happiness of heaven is 
 not only unmingled and consummate ; not only uninter- 
 rupted and immortal : but > << r j>rogrf*rive. 
 
 To this scene of glory, all things continually urge you. 
 The seasons roll on their soli-run course. The earth yields 
 
 15 its increase, to furnish blessings to support you. Mercies 
 charm you to their Author. Afflictions warn you of ap- 
 proaching ruin ; and drive you to the ark of safety. Mag- 
 istrates uphold order and peace, that you may consecrate 
 your labors to the divine attainment. 
 
 20 Ministers proclaim to you the glad iidingt of great joy ; 
 and point out to you the path to heaven. The Sabbath
 
 fix. 83.] . EXERCISES. PART II. 229 
 
 faithfully returns its mild and sweet season of grace, that 
 earthly objects may not engross your thoughts, and pre- 
 vent your attention to immortality. The sanctuary un- 
 
 25 folds its doors ; and invites you to enter in and be saved. 
 The Gospel still shines to direct your feet, and to quicken 
 your pursuit of the inestimable prize. 
 
 Saints wait, with fervent hope of renewing their joy 
 over your repentance. Angels spread their wings to con- 
 
 30 duct you home. The Father holds out the golden scepter 
 of forgiveness, that you may touch, and live. The Son 
 died on the cross, ascended to heaven, and intercedes be- 
 fore the throne of mercy, that you may be accepted. 
 The Spirit of grace and truth descends with his benevo- 
 
 35 lent influence, to allure and persuade you. 
 
 While all things, and God at the head of all things, are 
 thus kindly, and solemnly employed, to encourage you in 
 the pursuit of this inestimable good, will you forget, that 
 you have souls, which must be saved, or lost ? Will you 
 
 40 forget, that the only time of salvation is the present ? that 
 beyond the grave there is no Gospel to be preached ? that 
 there no offers of life are to be made ? that no Redeemer 
 will there expiate your sins ; and no forgiving God receive 
 your souls ? 
 
 45 Of what immense moment, then, is the present life ! 
 How invaluable every Sabbath ; every mean of salvation ! 
 Think how soon your last Sabbath will set in darkness ; 
 and the last sound of mercy die upon your ears ! How 
 painful, how melancholy an object, to a compassionate 
 
 50 eye, is a blind, unfeeling, unrepenting immortal ! 
 
 See the gates of life already unfolding to admit you. 
 The first-born open their arms to welcome you to their 
 divine assembly. The Saviour, who is gone before to 
 prepare a place for your reception, informs you, that all 
 
 55 things are ready. With triumph, then, with ecstacy, 
 hasten to enjoy the reward of his infinite labors in a 
 universe of good, and in the glory, which he had with t/ie 
 Father before ever the world was.
 
 AT ii. V,\. 84. 
 
 !:\r.ucisi: 84. 
 
 Character of Richard Reynolds. TIIURPK. 
 
 Ixx>k at mighty Athens, and you will everywhere 
 perceive monuments of taste, and genius, and elegance ! 
 Look at imperial, Pagan Rome in all her glory ! You 
 will behold all the grandeur of the human intellect un- 
 it folded in her temples, her palaces, and her amphitheatres. 
 You will find no hospital or infirmary ; no asylum for 
 the aged and the infirm, the fatherless and the widow; 
 the blind, the dumb, the deaf; the outcast and the desti- 
 tute. 
 
 10 How vastly superior in this respect is Bristol to Ath- 
 ene, is London to Rome. These, Christianity, are thy 
 triumphs ! These are thy lovely offspring ! they all bear 
 the lineaments of their common parent. Their family 
 
 15 likeness proves the sameness of their origin. Mercy con- 
 joined with purity is the darling attribute of our holy re- 
 ligion. 
 
 Its great Founder was mercy embodied in a human 
 form. Those virtues which shone in him shone in Rey- 
 
 20 nolds also ; though with a diminished lustre, when com- 
 pared with his great original : yet in a brighter lustre 
 than in the rest of mankind. 
 
 But whence, it may be demanded, came it to pass that 
 this man rose so high above the great mass of professed 
 
 26 Christians ? The answer is obvious. The great mass of 
 
 professed Christians are Christians only by profession. 
 
 Reynolds was a Christian in reality. His Christianity 
 
 was cordial ardent energetic. v empty name 
 
 n I) -fie.-ulation ; but a vital principle. 
 
 80 Vital C'hri>fianity is not so much a solitary beauty, as 
 
 UtY. 
 
 It '< ".\\\> mi < the wi<ilom of the serpent, with the inno- 
 cence of (lie dove ; the gentleness of the 'lamb, with the. 
 courage of the lion. It adds a charm to the bloom of 
 
 36 youth, and converts the hoary head into a crown of glory. 
 It gives dignity to the palace, and brings heaven into the 
 cottage. The king upon the throne is not so venerable 
 by the crown that encir. ! < his brow, as by the religion 
 that renders him the father of his people and the obedient 
 
 40 servant of the Sovereign of the world.
 
 Ex. 85.] KXK.ti:isr:3. PART ir. 231 
 
 EXERCISE 85. 
 
 Address of the Bible Society, 1816. MASON. 
 People of the United States 
 
 Have you ever been invited to an enterprise of such 
 grandeur and glory ? Do you not value the Holy Scrip- 
 tures ? Value them as containing your sweetest hope ; 
 your most thrilling joy ? Can you submit to the thought 
 5 that you should be torpid in your endeavors to disperse 
 them, while the rest of Christendom is awake and alert ? 
 
 Shall you hang back, in heartless indifference, when 
 princes come down from their thrones, to bless the cot- 
 tage of the poor with the Gospel of peace ; and imperial 
 
 10 sovereigns are gathering their fairest honors from spread- 
 ing abroad the oracles of the Lord your God ? Is it 
 possible that you should not see, in this state of human 
 things, a mighty motion of Divine Providence ? 
 
 The most heavenly charity treads close upon the 
 
 15 march of conflict and blood ! The world is at peace ! 
 Scarce has the soldier time to unbind his helmet, and to 
 wipe away the sweat from his brow, ere the voice of 
 mercy succeeds to the clarion of battle, and calls the 
 nations from enmity to love ! Crowned heads bow to the 
 
 20 head that is to wear " many crowns ;" and, for the first 
 time since the promulgation of Christianity, appear to act 
 in unison for the recognition of its gracious principles, as 
 being fraught alike with happiness to man and honor to 
 God. 
 
 25 What has created so strange, so beneficent an altera- 
 tion ? This is no doubt the doing of the Lord, and it is 
 marvelous in our eyes. But what instrument has he 
 thought fit chiefly to u*e ? That which contributes, in all 
 latitudes and climes, to make Christians feel their unity, 
 
 30 to rebuke the spirit of strife, and to open upon them the 
 day of brotherly concord : The Bible ! the Bible ! 
 through Bible Societies ! 
 
 Come, then, fellow-citizens, fellow-Christians; let us 
 join in the sacred covenant. Let no heart be cold ; no 
 
 35 hand be idle ; no purse reluctant ! Come, while room is 
 left for us in the ranks whose toil is goodness, and whose 
 recompense is victory. Come cheerfully, eagerly, gen- 
 erallv.
 
 KXBKC18B8. FART 11. [El. 86. 
 
 KXKRf'ISE 86. 
 
 The Roman Soldier. Last Days of Herculaneum. 
 ATHERSTONE. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 There was a man, 
 
 A Roman Soldier, for some daring deed 
 That trespass'd on the laws, in dungeon low 
 Chain'd down. His was a noble spirit, rough, 
 5 Hut generous, and brave, and kind. 
 lie had a ><>a, it was a rosy boy/ 
 A little faithful copy of his sire 
 In face and gesture, l-'nua infancy the child 
 Had been his father's solace and his care. 
 
 10 Kvery sport 
 
 The father shared and heighten'd. But at length 
 The rigorous law had grasp'd him, and comlemn'd 
 To fetters and to darkness. 
 
 Tlie captive's lot 
 
 15 He felt in all its bitterness: the walls 
 Of his deep dungeon answer'd many a sigh 
 And heai t-heaved groan. His tale was known, and 
 
 touch 'd 
 Hi.- jail-r \\ith compassion ; and the boy, 
 
 20 Thenceforth u frequent visitor, beguiled 
 
 His father's lingering hours, and brought a balm 
 With his lo\ed pri-x-iice, that in every wound 
 Dropt healing. But in tln> terrific hour, 
 II.- was a poison <d arrow in the breast 
 
 25 Where he had been a cure. . 
 
 With earliest morn, 
 
 Of tin! lir>i day of dink:;. - and amaze, 
 I !,.< I,. ;> d "ir w;is closed, for them 
 r to open more! The day, tin- ni^ht, 
 
 30 Dragg'd slowly by ; nor did they know the fate 
 Impending o'ei Well they heard 
 
 The pent-up tlniiuler> in tin* earth beneath, 
 And felt ius 1 the air 
 
 Grew li I'Ut in Ins straw 
 
 35 Tlie boy was sleeping: and the father hoped
 
 Ex. 80.] KXEHCISES. PART ii. 233 
 
 The earthquake might pass by; nor would he wake 
 From his sound rest the unfearing child, nor tell 
 The dangers of their state. ( ) On his low couch 
 The fetter'd soldier sunk and with deep awe 
 
 40 Listen'd the fearful sounds : with upturn'd eye 
 
 To the great gods he breathed a prayer ; then strove 
 To calm himself, and lose in sleep awhile 
 His useless terrors. But he could not sleep : 
 His body burned with feverish heat ; his chains 
 
 45 Clank'd loud although he moved not : deep in earth 
 Groan'd unimaginable thunders : sounds, 
 Fearful and ominous, arose and died, 
 Like the sad moanings of November's wind, 
 In the blank midnight. ( * ) Deepest horror chill'd 
 
 50 His blood that burn'd before ; cold clammy swSats 
 Came o'er him : ( ) then anon a fiery thrill 
 Shot through his veins. Now on his couch he shrunk, 
 And shiver'd as in fear : now upright leap'd, 
 As though he heard the battle-trumpet sound, 
 
 55 And long'd to cope with death. 
 
 He slept at last, 
 
 A troubled, dreamy sleep. Well, had he slept 
 Never to waken more ! His hours are few, 
 But terrible his agony. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Soon the storm 
 
 Burst forth : the lightnings glanced : the air 
 Shook with the thunders. They awoke ; they sprung 
 Amazed upon their feet. The dungeon glow'd 
 5 A moment as in sunshine, and was dark: 
 Again a flood of white flame fills the cell ; 
 Dying away upon the dazzled eye 
 In darkening, quivering tints, as stunning sound 
 Dies throbbing, ringing in the ear. Silence, 
 
 10 And blackest darkness. With intensest awe 
 
 The soldier's frame was fill'd.; and many a thought 
 Of strange foreboding hurried through his mind, 
 As underneath he felt the fever'd earth 
 Jarring and lifting and the massive walls 
 
 15 Heard harshly grate and strain : yet knew he not, 
 While evils undefined and yet to come
 
 BXKBCIBES. PART II. [Ex. 86. 
 
 Glanced through his thoughts, what deep and cureless 
 
 wound 
 
 Fate had already given. Where, man of woe ! 
 20 Where, wretched father ! is thy boy ? Thou call'st 
 His name in vain : he cannot answer thee 
 
 Loudly the father call'd upon hU child : 
 No voice replied. Trembling and anxiously 
 He search'd their couch of straw : with headlong haste 
 
 25 Trod round his stinted limits, and, low bent, 
 
 Groped darkling on the irtii : no child was there. 
 
 Again he call'd : again, at farthest stretch 
 
 Of his accursed fetters, till the blood 
 
 Seem'd bursting from his ears, and from his eyes 
 
 SO Fire flash'd, he strained with arm extended far. 
 And fingers widely >pr-a<l, greedy to touch 
 Though but his idol's garment. Useless toil ! 
 Yet still renew'd : still round and round he goes, 
 And strains, and snatches, and with dreadful cries 
 
 35 Calls on his boy. Mad frenzy tires him now : 
 He plants against the wall his feet ; his chain 
 Grasps ; tugs with giant strength to force away 
 The deep-driven staple ; yells and shrieks with rage, 
 And, like a desert lion in the snare 
 
 40 Raging to break his toils, to and fro bounds. 
 But see ! the ground w opening : a blue light 
 Mounts, gently waving, noiseless : thin and cold 
 It seems, and like a rainbow tint, not flame ; 
 But by its lustre, on the earth outstretch'd, 
 
 45 Behold the lifeless child ! his dress is singed, 
 And o'er his face serene a darken'd line 
 Points out the lightning's track. 
 
 The father saw, 
 
 And all his fury fled : a dead calm fell 
 50 That instant on him : speechless, fix'd he stood, 
 And with a look that never wander'd, gazed 
 Intensely on the corse. Those laughing eyes 
 Wore not yet closed, and round those ruby lips 
 The wonted smile return'd. 
 
 55 nt and pale 
 
 father stands : no tear is in his eye : 
 The thunders bdilow but he hears them n6t ;
 
 Ex. 86, 87.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 235 
 
 The ground lifts like a sea : he knows it not : 
 The strong walls grind and gape : the vaulted roof 
 60 Takes shapes like bubbles tossing in the wind : 
 See ! he looks up and smiles ; for death to him 
 Is happiness. Yet could one last embrace 
 Be given, 'twere still a sweeter thing to die. 
 
 It will be given. Look ! how the rolling ground, 
 
 65 At every swell, nearer and still more near 
 
 Moves towards the father's outstretch'd arm his boy : 
 Once he has touch'd his garment ; how his eye 
 Lightens with love and hope and anxious fears. 
 Ha ! see ! he has him now ! he clasps him round 
 
 70 Kisses his face ; puts back the curling locks, 
 That shaded his fine brow : looks in his eyes 
 Grasps in his own those little dimpled hands 
 Then folds him to his breast, as he was wont 
 To lie when sleeping and resign'd awaits 
 
 75 Undreaded death. 
 
 And death came soon, and swift, 
 And pangless. 
 
 The huge pile sunk down at once 
 Into the opening earth. ( ' ' ) Walls arches roof 
 
 80 And deep foundation stones all . . mingling . . fell ! 
 
 EXERCISE 87. 
 The Orphan Boy. MRS. OPIE. 
 
 1 Stay, lady stay, for mercy's sake ! 
 
 And hear a helpless orphan's tale : 
 Ah, sure my looks must pity wake 
 
 'Tis want that makes my cheek so pale ! 
 Yet I was once a mother's pride, 
 
 And my brave father's hope and joy : 
 But in the Nile's proud fight he died 
 
 And I am now an orphan boy ! 
 
 
 
 2 Poor, foolish child ! how pleased was I 
 
 When news of Nelson's victory came, 
 Along the crowded streets to fly, 
 To see the lighted windows flame !
 
 XBBCISKtf. PA*T II. [Kg. 87, 86. 
 
 To foil n." i."iiif lii.ine my mother sought 
 
 She could not bear to see 107 j<>\, 
 For with my father* lift 'twas bought 
 
 And made u a poor orphan boy ! 
 
 3 The people's shouts were long and loud ! 
 
 My mother, shuddering, closed her ears ; 
 
 " Rejoice ! rejoice !" still cried the crowd 
 
 My mother an&wer'd wiih her tears! 
 "Oh ! why do tears steal down your cheeks," 
 
 Cried I, " while others shout for j-y V" 
 She kiss'd me, and in accents weak, 
 
 She call'd me her poor orphan boy. 
 
 4 " What is an orphan boy ?" I said ; 
 
 Wlirii suddenly she gasp'd for breath, 
 And her eyes closed ; 1 sJiriek'd for aid : 
 
 But, ah ! her eyes were closed in death ! 
 My hardships since I will not tell : 
 
 But now no more a parent's joy ; 
 Ah ! lady, I have learn 'd too well 
 
 What 'tis to be an orphan boy. 
 
 EXERCISE 88. 
 Christian Consolation. ANONYMOUS. 
 
 [The annexed feeline and beautiful lines, are said to have been written 
 by a young English lady, who had experienced much affliction.] 
 
 1 Jesus I my cross have taken, 
 
 All to leave, and follow thee, 
 Naked, poor, despised, forsaken 
 
 Thou, from hence, my all shall be ! 
 Perish erery fond ambition 
 
 All I've sought, or hoped, or known, 
 V' t how rich is my condition 
 
 God and Heaven arc all my own ! 
 
 2 Go, thru, earthly fame and treasure 
 
 Come disaster, scorn, and pai ; 
 In thy service, pain is plea.- 
 
 i thy favor, loss is gain ; 
 I have call'd thee Abba Father 
 
 I have set my heart on thee ;
 
 Ex. 88, 89.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 237 
 
 Storms may howl, and clouds may gather 
 All must work for good to me ! 
 
 3 Soul ! then know thy full salvation 
 
 Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care ; 
 Joy to find in every station 
 
 Something still to do or bear ! 
 Think, what spirit dwells within thee 
 
 Think what heavenly bliss is thine ; 
 Think that Jesus died to save thee 
 
 Child of Heaven canst thou repine ? 
 
 4 Haste thee on, from grace to glory, 
 
 Arm'd by faith, and wing'd by prayer 
 Heaven's eternal day's before thee 
 
 God's own hand shall guide thee there. 
 Soon shall close thy earthly mission ! 
 
 Soon shall pass thy pilgrim-days, 
 Hope shall change to glad fruition 
 
 Faith to sight, and prayer to praise. 
 
 EXERCISE 89. 
 Cruelty to Animals. COWPER. 
 
 I would not enter on my list of friends, 
 
 (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, 
 
 Yet wanting sensibility,} the man 
 
 Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
 5 An inadvertent step may crush the snail, 
 
 That crawls at evening in the public path ; 
 
 But he that has humanity, forewarn'd, 
 
 Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 
 
 The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 
 "10 And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes 
 
 A visitor unwelcome into scenes 
 
 Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove, 
 
 The chamber, or refectory, may die. 
 
 A necessary act incurs no blame. 
 15 Not so, when held within their proper bounds 
 
 And guiltless of offence they range the air, 
 
 Or take their pastime in the spacious field.
 
 XKRCISKS. PABT II. [Ex. 80, !<. 
 
 There they are pri\ \nd he that hurts 
 
 Or harms them th-n-. i-.^uilty nf a wrong; 
 
 20 Disturbs the economy of nature's realm, 
 
 Who when she form'd, di-si^ni-d them an abod* 
 The sum is this : if man's convenience, health, 
 Or safety interfere, his rights and claims 
 Are paramount, nnd must extinguish theirs. 
 
 25 Else they are all the meanest things that are, 
 As free to live and to enjoy that life, 
 As God was free to form them at the first, 
 Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all. 
 Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your som 
 
 30 To love it too. The spring-time of our years 
 Is soon dishonor'd and dcfil'd, in most 
 By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 
 To check them. But alas ! none sooner shoots, 
 If unrestrain'd, into luxuriant growth, 
 
 35 Than cruelty, most devilish of them all. 
 Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule 
 And righteous limitation of its act, 
 By which Heav'n moves, in pard'ning guilty man: 
 And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 
 
 40 And conscious of the outrage he commits, 
 Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn ! 
 
 EXERCISE 90. 
 
 Christianity. MASOX. 
 
 The cardinal fact of Christianity, without which all her 
 other facts lose their importance, is the resurrection, from 
 the dead, of a crucified Saviour, as the {include, the pat- 
 tern, and the pledge of the resurrection of his followers 
 5 to eternal life. A ie "children <>f 
 
 disobedience," have leveled their batteries. One MMlb 
 it* proof; another its reasonableness ; all. its truth. Wh u 
 Paul asserted it before nn audienee of Athenian phi !-..- 
 phere, "some mocked" a short method of refuting the 
 10 Gospel ; and likely, from its convenience, to continue in 
 favor and in fashion. 
 
 Yet with such doctrines and facts did the religion of 
 Jesus make her way through the world. Against the
 
 Ex. 90.] EXERCISES. PART II. 239 
 
 superstition of the multitude against the interest, in- 
 
 15 fluence, and craft of their priesthood against the ridi- 
 cule of wits, the reasoning of sages, the policy of cabi- 
 nets, and the prowess of armies against the axe, the 
 cross, and the stake, she extended her conquests from 
 Jordan to the Thames. She gathered her laurels alike 
 
 20 upon the snows of Scythia, the green fields of Europe, 
 and the sands of Africa. The altars of impiety crum- 
 bled before her march the glimmer of the schools dis- 
 appeared in her light Power felt his arm wither at her 
 glance ; and, in a short time, she who went, forlorn and 
 
 25 insulted, from the hill of Calvary to the tomb of Joseph, 
 ascended the Imperial throne, and waved her banner 
 over the palace of the Ceesars. Her victories were not 
 less benign than decisive. They were victories over all 
 that pollutes, degrades, and ruins man ; in behalf of all 
 
 30 that purifies, exalts, and saves him. They subdued his 
 understanding to truth, his habits to rectitude, his heart 
 to happiness. 
 
 The disregard which^some of old affected to whatever 
 goes by the name of evil ; the insensibility of others, 
 
 35 who yield up their souls to the power of fatalism ; and 
 the artificial gayety which has, occasionally, played the 
 comedian about the dying bed of " philosophy, falsely 
 so called," are outrages upon decency and nature. 
 Death destroys both action and enjoyment mocks at 
 
 40 wisdom, strength, and beauty disarranges our plans 
 robs us of our treasures desolates our bosoms breaks 
 our heart-strings blasts our hope. Death extinguishes 
 the glow of kindness abolishes the most tender rela- 
 tions of man severs him from all that he knows and 
 
 45 loves subjects him to an ordeal which thousands of mil- 
 lions have passed, but none can explain ; and which 
 will be as new to the last who gives up the ghost, as it 
 was to murdered Abel flings him, in fine, without any 
 avail from the experience of others, into a state of un- 
 
 50 tried being. No wonder that nature trembles before it. 
 Reason justifies the fear. Religion never makes light of 
 it : and he who does, instead of ranking with heroes, can 
 hardly deserve to rank with a brute. 
 
 What have unbelievers to gild their evening hour, to 
 
 55 bind up their aching head, to soothe their laboring 
 heart ? What living hope descends from heaven to
 
 EXKRCI0BS. PART II |_K\. iMJ. !H. 
 
 smile on the sinking features, whisper peace to the re- 
 tiring spirit, and announce to the sad surrounding rela- 
 tives that all is well .' '1 here is none I AstoMSMMnt, 
 
 60 dismay, melancholy boding, are the " portion of their 
 cap." Sit down, ye unhappy, in the desolation of grief. 
 Consolation heard the voice of your weeping : she hast- 
 ened to yur door, but started back affrighted ; her com- 
 mission extends not to your house of mourning ; ye have 
 
 65 no hope ! 
 
 EXERCISE 91. 
 Character of Mrs. Graham. MASOX. 
 
 Recall the example of Mrs. Graham. Here was a 
 woman a widow a stranger in a strange land with- 
 out fortune wall no friends but such as her letters of 
 introduction and her worth should acquire and with a 
 5 family of daughters dependent upon h--r for their sub- 
 sistence. Surely if any one has a clear title of immunity 
 from the obligation to carry her cares beyond the domes- 
 tic circle, it is this widow ; it is this stranger. Yet 
 within a few yeans this htranger, this widow, with no 
 
 10 means but 1 < DSC, l..-r beaevolent heart, and 
 
 her perttvcrin'j will to do good, awakens the charities of 
 a populous city, and gives to them an impulse, a direc- 
 tion, and an efficacy, unknown before ! What might not 
 be done by tntm ; by men of talent, of standing, of 
 
 16 wealth, of leisure? How speedily, under their well-di- 
 rected beneficence, might a whole country change its 
 physical, intellectual, and moral aspect ; and assume, 
 comparatively speaking, the face of another Eden a 
 second garden of God .' Why then do they not diffuse, 
 
 20 thus extensively, the seeds of knowledge, of virtue, and 
 of bliss ? I ask not for their j>retenees ; they are as old 
 as the lust of lucre ; and are refuted by the example 
 which we have been contemplating I ask for the true 
 reason, for the inspiring principle ot their conduct. It is 
 
 25 this let them look to it when God shall call them to ac- 
 count for the abuse of their time, their talents, their sta- 
 -tkm, their " unrighteous mammon." It is this : They 
 believe not " the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, 
 It if more bleued to give Utan to receive." They labor 
 
 30 under no want but one they want tAe heart !
 
 Kx. 91, 05i.J EXERCISER. PAKX II. 1^41 
 
 That venerable mother in Israel, who has exchanged 
 the service of God on earth for his service in heaven, 
 has left a legacy to her sisters she has left the example 
 of her faith and patience ; she has left her prayers ; she 
 
 35 has left the monument of her Christian deeds : and by 
 these, she "being dead yet speaketh." Matrons! has 
 she left her mantle also ? Are there none among you to 
 hear her voice from the tomb, " Go, and do thou like- 
 wise ?" None whom affluence permits, endowments 
 
 40 qualify, and piety prompts, to aim at her distinction by 
 treading in her steps ? Maidens ! Are there none among 
 you, who would wish to array yourselves hereafter in the 
 honors of this " virtuous woman ?" Your hearts have 
 dismissed their wonted warmth and generosity, if they do 
 
 45 not throb as the revered vision rises before you then 
 prepare yourselves now, by seeking and serving the God 
 of her youth. 
 
 Yea, let me press upon all who hear me this evening, 
 the transcendent excellence of Christian character, and 
 
 50 the victorious power of Christian hope. The former 
 bears the image of God ; the latter is as imperishable as 
 his throne. We fasten our eyes with more real respect, 
 and more heart-felt approbation, upon the moral majesty 
 displayed in " walking as Christ also walked," than 
 
 55 upon all the pomps of the monarch, or decorations of the 
 military hero. More touching to the sense, and more 
 grateful to high heaven, is the soft melancholy with 
 which we look after our departed friend, and the tear 
 which embalms her memory, than the thundering plau- 
 
 60 dits which rend the air with the name of a conqueror. 
 She has obtained a triumph over that Foe who shall 
 break the arm of valor, and strike off the crown of 
 kings. > 
 
 EXERCISE 92. 
 Living to God. GRIFFIN. 
 
 The heart-breaking necessities of a. world ought to 
 
 rouse us from our selfish stupor. To say nothing of the 
 
 multitudes who are swarming the way to death in the 
 
 most favored regions ; to say nothing of whole nations 
 
 5 in the Romish and Greek Churches who, though they 
 
 11
 
 243 EXKKC1SKH. PART II. [Ex. WX. 
 
 bear the Christian name, are apparently living without 
 God in the world ; to say nothing of hundreds of thou- 
 sands of nominal Christians, scattered through Asia and 
 Africa, who scarcely retain any thing of Christianity but 
 
 10 the name ; to say nothing of three millions of Jews; it 
 is a distressing truth, that more than two tkirdt of the 
 population of the globe are 'still buried under Pagan or 
 Mahometan darkness, and are as abominably wicked as 
 sin can make them. 
 
 15 While I am speaking they are bursting forth to meet 
 their doom. It certainly has become the duty of every 
 person in a Gospel land to rack his invention, to devise 
 eans, and to strain the lust nerve of bis strength, to 
 rescue those perishing nations, as he would to deliver 
 
 20 his family from a burning house. O, if we loved those 
 heathen as we do our children ! but we ought to love 
 them as we 'love ourselves. Heretofore we knew not 
 how it was possible to reach them ; but now a way is 
 opened by which we may operate upon them, with as 
 
 25 much ease as though they lived at our door. If we 
 drop a dollar into the American Bible Society, it will 
 turn to a Bible, and find its way to India, and will travel 
 while we sleep. If we deposit another, it will become a 
 Bible and make its way to South America, without post- 
 90 age or risk. Thus God has opened a door by which we 
 may pour upon the heathen the blessings of the Gospel 
 as fast as we please, and need not be bounded by any 
 other limit than our ability and inclination. One Bible 
 will shed upon a benighted family a light which will ra- 
 
 35 diate through a neighborhood, and descend from gene- 
 ration to generation. And who is too poor to give a 
 Bible ? It has been computed by those who have passed 
 through our country, to. search out its wants, that no 
 less than five hundred thousand Bibles are wanted in 
 
 40 the United States, to furnish each family with one, that 
 each man may have a Bible to lay upon his dying pil- 
 low. Do we hear this, and shall we sleep ? There 
 ought to be two Bible Societies, one of males and the 
 tli- il, formed in every town, and village, and 
 
 45 hamlet in America. And into one of these every person 
 but actual paupers ought to come. Kvcry hand in 
 Christendom, but those which are stretched out for 
 alms, ought to give one Bible a year, till the wants of a
 
 
 Ex. 92. 93.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 243 
 
 world are supplied. It is a tax which the God of 
 
 50 heaven has laid upon the whole population of Christian 
 countries. Let the laboring poor work an hour longer 
 each day, and retrench some unnecessary expenses, and 
 they need not be excluded from this glorious work of 
 regenerating a world. But the coffers of the rich 
 
 55 What has sealed the coffers of the rich ? that they 
 should roll in luxury and pave the way to their thea- 
 tres with gold, when six or seven hundred millions of 
 sinners are without a Bible ! There is superfluous 
 wealth enough in a few of our cities and larger towns to 
 
 60 convey the Gospel in a short time to every family on 
 earth. God Almighty open their hearts, that they may 
 pour out their treasures by hundreds and by thousands, 
 till the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord 
 as the waters cover the sea. 
 
 65 My brethren, let us no longer live to ourselves. Let 
 us arise and put our hands to the great work in which 
 the nations are now moving. Wondrous things are 
 taking place in the four quarters of the globe. The world 
 is waking up after a long sleep, and is teeming with 
 
 70 projects and efforts to extend the empire of truth and 
 happiness. This is the day of which the prophets sung. 
 Let us not sleep while all others are rousing themselves 
 to action. Let every soul come up to the help of the 
 Lord. Let not one be left behind. He that has abso- 
 
 75 lutely nothing to give, let him pray. Let no one be idle. 
 This is a great day, and the Lord requires every hand in 
 the work. 
 
 EXERCISE 93. 
 Plea for Africa. GRIFEIN. 
 
 It can no longer be made a question whether the ele- 
 vation of the African race is a part of the new order of 
 things. The providence of God has declared it. The 
 Almighty Deliverer is already on his march to relieve the 
 woes of Africa. Her resurrection is already stamped with 
 the broad seal of heaven. Let all the nations behold the 
 sign, and bow to the mandate of God. 
 
 Ethiopia shall stretch out her hands to God. Let
 
 244 KXKRC18KK. FART li. [Ex 
 
 cruel and unbelieving minds raise up as many jeers and 
 
 10 objections as they may, the thing will proceed, " fur the 
 mouth uf the Lord hath spoken it." 
 
 \Vr liave now arrived at the c..n liisi-m that a brighter 
 day is arising on Africa. Already I seem to nee her chains 
 dissolved, her desert plains turned into a fruitful field, 
 
 15 her Congo and her Senegal the seats of science and relig- 
 ion, reflecting the glory of the rising sun from the spires 
 of their churches and uni\ i-r.Mties. her Gambia and Niger 
 whitened with her floating commerce, her crowded cities 
 sending forth the hum of business, her poets and orators 
 
 20 standing on the same shelf with Milton and Burke, and 
 all her sons employed in the songs of salvation. And 
 when that day shall come, 1 am sure posterity will see the 
 names of Clarkson, Sharp, Wilberforce, Thornton, and 
 Oregoire, recorded on the cities and monuments of a 
 
 25 grateful continent. 
 
 We come to you this evening with our hands stretched 
 out in supplication for Africa, which, though dark her 
 skin, is one of our own mother's children. We beseech 
 you by that mercy which you hope to find, that you 
 
 SO do not reject our suit. We beseech you by the tear* 
 which were once shed for you, that you aid us in wiping 
 the tears of an oppressed race. 1 have no intention 
 to practise on your feelings. I know too well the piety 
 and liberality of this metropolis. I only wish to spread 
 
 35 the object before you in its own native forms, to lay 
 open every wounded and aching part. I am sorry that 
 I have not been able to do this with more success. 
 Your goodness will supply the rest. You will furnish 
 the Synod with means to prosecute their benevolent de- 
 
 40 signs. 
 
 Beloved brethren, to live in such a world and age as 
 this, brings with it immense obligations; the world of 
 all others which tin- Son nf God redeemed with blood; 
 the age selected from all ages to be the season of his 
 
 45 highest uiumph and reward ; the spot and time, among 
 
 all worhjp and J>eriod, most interesting to the eyes of 
 
 heaven. JHflKftt '" such a day, is a j>n\ !!_' which 
 
 kings and prophets desired, but were not permitted to 
 
 er the servants of God were "a flame of 
 
 50 fire, this is the time to exhibit themselves such. You 
 stand, my beloved brethren, under an opening heaven.
 
 Ex. 93, 94.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 245 
 
 You stand by the tomb of a world rising from death. 
 Be not stupid in such a day. Be ftot half awake. Let 
 your soul stand erect, looking out for the approaching 
 
 55 God. Let every nerve be strung to action. Great is 
 the human effort which the day calls for ; great will be 
 the triumph which faith and patience will achieve. It is 
 but " a little while, and he that shall come, will come and 
 will not tarry." For my part, I would rather be one to 
 
 60 follow the wheels of his victorious chariot, than to enjoy 
 the triumphs of a Caesar. Let a prostrate world prepare 
 to sing, " Hosanna to the Son of David ! blessed is he 
 that cometh in the name of the Lord : hosanna in the 
 highest!" 
 
 EXERCISE 94. 
 Abolition of the Slave Trade. CHRISTIAN OBSERVER. 
 
 1 Woe to the land, whose wealth proclaims 
 
 Another land's undoing ; 
 Whose trophied column rises high, 
 
 On robbery and ruin. 
 Britannia saw, with deep disdain, 
 The foul reproach, the coward stain. 
 
 The characters of blood ; 
 She saw, and swept her shame away, 
 While shouting round, in thick array, 
 
 Her patriot champions stood. 
 
 2 Proud was the morn whose early beams 
 
 Saw Pitt and Fox uniting, 
 And side by side, in holy band, 
 
 Their country's battle fighting. 
 Oh ! if their spirits hover nigh, 
 How shall they hail with rapture high, 
 
 This day's revolving sun ; 
 And hear our songs of triumph tell, 
 The prize, for which they fought so well, 
 
 The virtuous prize, is won! 
 
 3 Let France of prostrate Europe tell, 
 
 Exulting in her story ; 
 The usurper shall unenvied stretch 
 The reign of guilty glory.
 
 240 ME*CI8Ea. FART II. [E*. 94. 95. 
 
 Hit be the chaplet dropping gdre, 
 And his the rod plume, waving o'er 
 
 A bleeding people's woe. 
 Scourge of the North, the South, the West! 
 The World, that bows at thy behest, 
 
 The World is still thy foe. 
 
 4 But thte, fair Daughter of the Seas, 
 
 Are brighter days attending, 
 And olive wreaths, with myrtle twined, 
 
 Around thy scepter blending. 
 Though doom'd perchance awhile to bear 
 Thy blazing aegis high in air; 
 
 Beneath that ample shade, 
 Shall Europe's exiled virtue throng, 
 And Africa, redeem'd from wrong, 
 
 Adore thy guardian aid. 
 
 5 So shalt thou rest, through rolling years, 
 
 Secure in Heaven's alliance, 
 And to a thousand circling foes 
 
 Breathe out a bold defiance. 
 Her eagle wing shall Victory wave, 
 Around the arm that strikes to save ; 
 
 And Earth applauding, see 
 The friend of every friendless name, 
 Foremost in blfss, and strength, and fame, 
 
 The Friend of Freedom, free ! 
 
 EXERCISE 95. 
 
 Eliza, DARWIN . 
 
 Now stood Eliza, on the wood-crown'd hight, 
 O'er Minden's plain, spi>rt:itrf-s of the fight. 
 Sought, with bold eye, amid the bloody strife. 
 Her dearer self, th<- partner of IHT life ; 
 5 From hill to hill th<* ni>hiny host pursued. 
 And view'd his banner, or, believed she view'd. 
 Pleased with the distant roar, with quicker tread 
 Fast by his hand, one lisping boy she led ; 
 And one fair girl, amid the loud alarm, 
 10 Slept on her kerchief, cradled by her arm ;
 
 Ex. 95.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 247 
 
 While round her brows bright beams of honor dart, 
 And love's warm eddies circle round her heart. 
 Near, and more near, the intrepid beauty press'd, 
 Saw, through the driving smoke, his dancing crest ; 
 
 1 5 Heard the exulting shout, " They run ! they run /" 
 " Great God !" she cried, " he's safe ! the battle's won. 
 A ball now hisses through the airy tides, 
 (Some Fury speeds it, and some demon guides !) 
 Parts the tine locks, her graceful head that deck, 
 
 20 Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck ; 
 The red stream issuing from her azure veins, 
 Dyes her white veil, her ivory bosom stains. 
 " Ah, me !" she cried, (and, sinking on the ground, 
 " Kiss'd her dear babes, regardless of the wound ;) 
 
 25 " Oh, cease not yet to beat, thou vital uvn ! 
 " Wait, gushing life, oh, wait my love's return ! 
 " Hoarse barks the wolf, the vulture screams from far ! 
 " The angel, Pity, shuns the walks of war ! 
 " Oh, spare, ye war-hounds, spare their tender age ! 
 
 30 " On me, on me," she cried, " exhaust your rage !" 
 Then with weak arms, her weeping babes caress'd, 
 And, sighing, hid them in her blood-stain'd vest. 
 
 From tent to tent the impatient warrior flies, 
 (Fear in his heart, and frenzy in his eyes :) 
 
 35 Eliza's name along the camp he calls, 
 Eliza ! echoes through the canvas walls ; 
 Quick through the murmuring gloom, his footsteps tread 
 O'er groaning heaps, the dying and the dead, 
 Vault o'er the plain, and, in the tangled wood, 
 
 40 Lo ! dead Eliza, weltering in her blood ! 
 
 Soon hears his listening son the welcome sounds, 
 With open arms and sparkling eyes he bounds. 
 " Speak low," he cries, and gives his little hand, 
 " Eliza sleeps, upon the dew-cold sand." 
 
 45 Poor weeping babe, with bloody fingers press'd, 
 And tried, with pouting lips, her milkless breast. 
 " Alas ! we both with cold and hunger quake 
 " Why do you weep ? Mamma will soon awake." 
 " She'll wake no more !" the hopeless mourner cried, 
 
 50 Upturn'd his eyes, and clasp'd his hands, and sigh'd : 
 Stretch'd on the ground awhile entranced he lay, 
 And press'd warm kisses on the lifeless clay ;
 
 248 KXtiftCJSKS. PART II. [.T. (Mfc 
 
 And then upspruiw, with wild, convulsive start, 
 
 1 all \.\\f father kiiid!-d in his heart: 
 
 S5 " < >. IK ;i\ens !" he cri-d. my first rash vow forgive ! 
 " These bind to earth, for thete I pray to live !" 
 Round his chill babes he wrapp'd his rrimson vest, 
 And clasp'd them, sobbing, to his aching breast. 
 
 i:\ERCISE 9. 
 Character of Mr. Brougham. ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Brougham is a thunderbolt. He may come in the 
 dark, he may come at random, his path may be in the 
 viewless and graspless air ; but still, give him something 
 solid, let him come in contact with the earth, and, be it 
 5 beautiful or barren, it feels the power of his terrible visi- 
 tation. You see not, or rather you heed not, the agent 
 which works ; but, just as when the arch-giant of physical 
 destroyers rends his way, you see the kingdoms of nature 
 yielding at his approach, and the mightiest of their pro- 
 
 10 due tions brushed aside as though they were dust, or torn 
 as though they were gossamer. 
 
 While he raises his voice in the House while he 
 builds firmly and broadly the bases of his own proposi- 
 tions, and snatches from every science a beam to enlarge 
 
 10 and strengthen his work; and while he indignantly beats 
 down and tramples upon all that has been reared by his 
 antagonist, you feel as if the wind of annihilation were in 
 his hand, and the power of destruction in his possession. 
 
 20 There cannot be a greater treat than to hear Brougham 
 upon one of those questions which give scope for the 
 mighty swell of his mind, and which permit him to 
 launch the bolts of that tremendous sarcasm, for which 
 he has not now, and perhaps never had, an equal in the 
 
 25 lions.-. \\Ix-n his display i- a reply. y<>u see his long and 
 lathy figure drawn aside from others, and coiled up within 
 itself like a snake, and his eyes glancing from under the 
 sloi v and as fatal as those of the 
 
 has i mark the twin demons of irony and con- 
 
 30 tempt, playing about the tense and compressed line of 
 his mouth. 
 
 Up rises the orator, slowly and clumsily. His body, 
 swttng into an attitude which is none rf the most grace-
 
 EX. 96.] EXERCISES. PART II. 249 
 
 ful. His long and sallow visage seems lenthened and 
 
 35 deepened in its hue. His eyes, his nose, and mouth 
 seem huddled together, as if, while he presses every 
 illustration into his speech, he were at the same time 
 condensing all his senses into one. There is a lowering 
 sublimity in his brows, which one seldom sees equalled ; 
 
 40 and the obliquity of the light shows the organization of 
 the upper and lateral parts of his forehead, proud and 
 palpable as the hills of his native north. His left hand 
 is extended with the palm, prepared as an anvil, upon, 
 which he is ever and anon to hammer, with the forefin- 
 
 45 ger of his right, as the preparation to that full swing 
 whioh is to give life to every muscle, and motion to every 
 limb. He speaks ! In the most powerful and sustained, 
 and at the same time, the most close, clear and logical 
 manner, does he demolish the castle which his oppo- 
 
 50 nent had built for himself. You hear the sounds, you 
 see the flash, you look for the castle, and it is not. 
 Stone after stone, turret after turret, battlement after 
 battlement, and wing after wing, are melted away, and 
 nothing left, save the sure foundation, upon which the 
 
 55 orator himself may build. There are no political bowels 
 in him. He gives no quarter, and no sooner has he 
 razed the fort, than he turns him to torture the garrison. 
 It is now that his mock solemnity is something more 
 terrible than the satire of Canning, the glow of Burdett, 
 
 60 or the glory of Mackintosh. His features (which are 
 always grave) assume the very depth of solemnity ; acd 
 his voice (which is always solemn) falls into that under 
 soprano, (that visionary tone between speech and whis- 
 per,) which men employ when they speak of their own 
 
 65 graves, and coffins. You would imagine it not audible, 
 and yet its lowest syllable runs through the House like 
 wild-fire. You would think it meant only for the ear of 
 him who is the subject of it, yet it comes immediately, 
 and powerfully, and without the possibility of being for- 
 
 70 gotten, to every one within the walls. You would think 
 it the fond admonition of a sainted father to the errors 
 of a beloved son ; and yet, it has in reality more of that 
 feeling which the Devil is said to exercise, when he acts 
 as the accuser of the brethren. You may push aside 
 
 75 the bright thing which raises a laugh ; you may find a 
 cover from the wit which ambles to you on antithesis, 
 11*
 
 250 BXE1CISB8. PAtT II. [El. 96, 97. 
 
 or quotation ; but, against the home reproof of Brougham 
 there U no defence ; ita course it so firm thnt you cannot 
 dash it aside. 
 
 EXERCISE 97. 
 Character of Mr. Wilbcrforc*. 
 
 The speeches of Mr. Wilberforce, are among the very 
 few good things now remaining in ih- IJritish Parliament: 
 bis diction is elegant, rich, and spirited ; his tones are 
 so distinct and so melodious, that the most hostile ear 
 5 hangs on them delighted. Then his address is so insin- 
 uating, that if he talked nonsense, you would feel yourself 
 obliged to hear him. 1 recollect when the House had 
 been tired night after night, with discussing the end- 
 less questions relating to Indian Policy, when the com- 
 
 10 merce and finances and resources of our oriental empire 
 had exhausted the lungs of ail the speakers, and the 
 patience of all the auditors at that period, Mr. Wilber- 
 force, with a just confidence in his powers, ventured 
 to broach the hackneyed subject of Hindoo conversion. 
 
 15 He spoke three hours, but nobody seemed fatigued : 
 all, indeed, were pleased ; some with the ingenious 
 artifices of his manner, but most with the glowing 
 language of his heart. Much as I differed from him in 
 opinion, it was impossible not to be delighted with his 
 
 20 eloquence : and though I wish most heartily that the 
 Hindoos might be left to their own trinity, yet I felt 
 disposed to agree with him, that some good must arise 
 to the human mind, by being engaged in a controversy 
 which will exercise most of its faculties. Mr. Wilber- 
 
 25 force is now verging towards age,* and speaks but sel- 
 dom ; he, however, never speaks without exciting a wish 
 that he would say more ; he maintains, like Mr. tt rattan, 
 great respectability of character, by disdaining to mix in 
 the daily paltry squabbles of party : he is no hunter ift<r 
 
 30 place. ' * 
 
 1 confess I always look with equal respect and pleasure 
 on this eloquent veteran, lingering among his ' 
 
 Written in 1814 or 1815
 
 Ex. 97, 98.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 251 
 
 but far inferior posterity ; and well has he a right to 
 linger on the spot where he achieved one of the greatest 
 
 35 laurels that ever brightened in the wreath of fame: a 
 laurel better than that of the hero, as it is not stained 
 with blood or tears : better even than that of the states- 
 man who improves the civilization of his country, inas- 
 much as to create, is better than to improve. And the 
 
 40 man whose labors abolished the Slave Trade, at one 
 blow struck away the barbarism of a hundred nations, 
 and elevated myriads of human beings, degraded to the 
 brute, into all the dignified capacities of civilized man. 
 To have done this is the most noble, as it is the most 
 
 45 useful work, which any individual could accomplish. 
 
 EXERCISE 98. 
 Eulogium on Mr. Fox. SHERIDAN. 
 
 Upon the one great subject, which, at this moment, I 
 
 am confident has possession of the whole feelings of 
 
 every man whom I address the loss, the irreparable loss, 
 
 of the great, the illustrious character, whom we all de- 
 
 5 plore I shall, I can say but little. * * * 
 
 He died in the spirit of peace ; tranquil in his own ex- 
 piring heart, and cherishing to the last, with a parental so- 
 licitude, the consoling hope that he should be able to give 
 established tranquillity to harassed, contending nations. 
 
 10 Let us trust, that the stroke of death which has borne him 
 from us, may not have left the peace of the world, and 
 the civilized charities of man, as orphans upon the earth. 
 With such a man, to have battled in the cause of genuine 
 liberty with such a man, to have struggled against 
 
 15 the inroads of oppression and corruption with such 
 an example before me, to have to boast that I never in 
 my life gave one vote in Parliament that was not on the 
 side of freedom, is the congratulation that attends the 
 retrospect of my public life. His friendship was the 
 
 20 pride and honor of my days. I never, for one moment, 
 regretted to share with him the difficulties, the calum- 
 nies, and sometimes even the dangers, that attended his 
 honorable life. And now reviewing my past political 
 conduct, were the option possible, that I should retread 
 
 25 the path, I solemnly and deliberately declare, that I
 
 33S BXBMMM. TAUT U. [Rx.9g99 
 
 would pursue the tame course hear up under the some 
 pressure abide by the same principles and remain by 
 his .-idi', an t-xile from power, distinction, and emolument. 
 If 1 have missed the opportunity, of obtaining all UK- 
 
 30 support, I mijit. f-rhaps. have had, on the present oc- 
 casion, from a very scrupulous delicacy, which I think 
 teeamt, and was incumbent upon me I cannot repent it. 
 la so doing, I acted on the feelings upon which I am 
 sensible all those would have acted who loved Mr. F<>\ 
 
 35 as 1 did. I felt within myself, that while the slightest 
 aspirations might still quiver on those lips, that were the 
 copious channels of eloquence, wisdom, and benevo- 
 lence that while one drop <f life's blood might still 
 warm that heart, which throbbed only for the pood of 
 
 40 mankind I should not, 1 tould not have acted other- 
 wise. 
 
 Gentlemen ; the hour is not far distant, when an nwful 
 knell shall tell you, that the unburied remains of your re- 
 vered patriot are passing through your streets, to that 
 
 46 sepulchral home where your kings your heroes your 
 sages and your poets, will be honored by an association 
 with hit mortal r-maiti>. At that hour when the sad so- 
 lemnity shall take place, in a privat<- way, as more suited 
 to the simple dignity <>t his rhnracter, than the splendid 
 
 50 gaudiness of public pageantry ; when you, all of you, 
 shall be self-marshaled in reverential sorrow mute, and 
 reflecting on your mighty loss at that moment shall the 
 disgusting contest of an election-wrangle break the so- 
 lemnity of such a scene ? Is it fitting that any man 
 
 06 should overlook the crisis, and risk the monstrous and 
 disgusting contest? Is it fitting that I should be that 
 urn? 
 
 EXERCISE 99. 
 Death of Sheridan. Brno*. 
 
 flash of wit the bright intelligence, 
 The beam of song the maze of eloquence, 
 Bet with their sun but still have left behind 
 The enduring produce of immortal mind ; 
 Kruita of a genial mom, and glorious noon, 
 A deathless part nf him wh" died too soon.
 
 Ex. 99.] EXERCISES. PART II. 253 
 
 But small that portion of the wondrous whole, 
 
 These sparkling segments of that circling soul, 
 
 Which all embraced and lighteu'd over all, 
 10 To cheer to pierce to please or to appal: 
 
 From the charm'd council to the festive board, 
 
 Of human feelings the unbounded lord ; 
 
 In whose acclaim the loftiest voices vied, 
 
 The praised the proud who made his praise their pride. 
 15 When the loud cry of trampled Hindostan 
 
 Arose to Heaven in her appeal from man, 
 
 His was the thunder his the avenging rod, 
 
 The wrath the delegated voice of God ! 
 
 Which shook the nations through his lips and blazed 
 20 Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised. 
 
 And here, oh ! here, where yet all young and warm, 
 The gay creations of his spirit charm, 
 The matchless dialogue the deathless wit, 
 Which knew not what it was to intermit ; 
 
 25 The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring 
 
 Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring ; 
 
 These wondrous beings of his fancy, wrought 
 
 To fullness by the fiat of his thought, 
 
 Here in their first abode, you still may meet, 
 
 30 Bright with the hues of his Promethean heat ; 
 A halo of the light of other days, 
 Which still the splendor of its orb betrays. 
 
 Ye orators ! whom yet our councils yield, 
 Mourn for the veteran hero of your field ! 
 
 35 The worthy rival of the wondrous three !* 
 Whose words were sparks of immortality ! 
 Ye Bards, to whom the Drama's Muse is dear, 
 He was your master emulate him here ! 
 Ye men of wit and social eloquence ! 
 
 40 He was your brother bear his ashes hence ! 
 While powers of mind almost of boundless range, 
 Complete in kind as various in their change ; 
 While eloquence wit poesy and mirth, 
 (That humbler harmonist of care on earth,) 
 
 45 Survive within our souls while lives our sense 
 Of pride in merit's proud pre-eminence, 
 
 * Pitt, Fox, and Burke.
 
 254 KXEHC1SKX. PABT II. [Ex. 99, 100. 
 
 Long shall we > -k Ls likeness long in vain, 
 And turn to all of him which may remain. 
 Sighing that nature foriard Imt one such man, 
 50 And broke the die in moulding SHERIDAN ! 
 
 BXERI 18E 100. 
 The last family of Eastern Greenland. MONTGOMERY. 
 
 In the cold sunshine of yon narrow dell, 
 Affection lingers ; there two lovers dwell, 
 Greenland's whole family ; nor long forlorn, 
 There comes a visitant ; a babe is born. 
 6 O'er his meek helplessness the parents smiled ; 
 Twas hope : for hope is every mother's child. 
 Then seemed they in that world of solitude, 
 The Eve and Adam of :i race renew'd. 
 Brief happiness ! too perilous to last ; 
 
 10 The moon hath wax'd and waned, and all is pact. 
 Itt-hnld the end ! oat- morn athwart the wall, 
 They marked the shadow of a reindeer fall, 
 Bounding in tameless freedom o'er the snow ; 
 The father track'd him, and with fatal bow 
 
 15 Smote down the victim ; but, before his eyes, 
 A rabid she-bear pounced upon the prize ; 
 A shaft into the spoiler's flank he seat, 
 She turn'd in wrath, and limb from limb had rent 
 The hunter ; but his dagger's plunging steel, 
 
 20 With riven bosom made the monster reel ; 
 Unvanquish'd, both to closer combat flew, 
 Assailants each, till each the other slew ; 
 Mm.;!.;,.: tlicjr blood from mutual wound* they lay, 
 ! on the carcass of their antler'd prey. 
 
 25 Meanwhile his partner waits, her heart at rest, 
 
 inir-l'-a hut her iut'.uit <>n her breast; 
 With him she slumbers, or with him she plays, 
 And tells him all her iln-nns of future days, 
 Asks him a thousand ijue.stiooft, feigns replies, 
 \nd reads whate'er she wishes in his eyes. 
 Red evening comes ; BO kmthauTt shadow falls 
 Where fell the reindeer's, o'er the latticed walls ; 
 'Tn night ! no footstep sounds towards her door :
 
 Ex. 100, 101.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 255 
 
 The day returns but he returns no more. 
 35 In frenzy forth she sallies, and with cries, 
 
 To which no voice except her own replies, 
 
 In frightful echoes, startling all around, 
 
 Where human voice again shall never sound, 
 
 She seeks him, finds him not ; some angel guide 
 40 In mercy turns her from the corpse aside ; 
 
 Perhaps his own freed spirit, lingering near, 
 
 Who waits to waft her to a happier sphere, 
 
 But leads her first, at evening to their cot, 
 
 Where lies the little one, all day forgot ; 
 45 Imparadised in sleep, she finds him there, 
 
 Kisses his cheek, and breathes a mother's prayer. 
 
 Three days she languishes, nor can she shed 
 
 One tear between the living and the dead ; 
 
 When her lost spouse comes o'er the widow's thought, 
 50 The pangs of memory are to madness wrought ; 
 
 But, when her suckling's eager lips are felt, 
 
 Her heart would fain but oh ! it cannot melt ; 
 
 At length it breaks, while on her lap he lies, 
 
 With baby wonder gazing in her eyes. 
 55 Poor orphan ! mine is not a hand to trace 
 
 Thy little story, last of all thy race ! 
 
 Not long thy sufferings ; cold and colder grown, 
 
 The arms that clasp thee, chill thy limbs to stone. 
 
 'Tis done : from Greenland's coast the latest sigh 
 60 Bore infant innocence beyond the sky. 
 
 EXERCISE 101. 
 The City and the Country. M'DONNOUGH. 
 
 The arrival of the two mountaineers was not long in 
 being known to the whole household in May Fair. Lit- 
 tle Mary had hoisted the tartan in less time than the 
 ordinary tribe of ladies' maids could easily comprehend, 
 5 and having hoisted that, she descended the stairs with 
 more rapidity than is customary with even that light- 
 footed tribe. The shakings by the hand, the "good 
 graciouses ! and are you there ?" the uninterrupted inqui- 
 ries, the questions answered by a look, and the ques- 
 10 tions so rapid as not to admit of that brief response,
 
 '25ft XEKCteEfl. AKT II. [Ex. 101. 
 
 passed like the shadow of a cloud upon a Highland glen 
 like the ruffling of the wind upon a Highland lake. 
 The castle, the loch, the river, the cliff every field, every 
 hill, every spot, and almost every hush, hml its note of 
 
 1 "> recollection, and its tribute of praise. 
 
 Tnere is something exquisite in this something which 
 the inhabitants of thronged cities, cannot appreciate. 
 But in the patriarchal land of the north, there is or there 
 was, ere avarice laid it waste, or the Jove of money 
 
 20 made it a desolation a love of every thing that was, as 
 well as of every thing that is. The same ancient stone 
 which sheltered the sire, shelters the son : agninst the 
 tree which his father planted, no man will lift up an 
 axe ; and ihe resting-place of the departed is sacred as 
 
 25 long as life warms a heart, which wms present when 
 they were laid in the dust. In R great city, man, de- 
 pendent on his own exertions, following the bent of 
 his own passions or appetites, and reckless of every 
 gratification but those of him*df\ is disjointed from man. 
 
 30 The tenants of the same roof, know mt the names of 
 each other, and to be parted by one paltry brick, makes 
 a separation as complete, as though they dwelt at the an- 
 tipodes. Not only is man disjointed from man, but age 
 is disjointed from age. The people \\\\n inhabit a street 
 
 85 or a square, now know nothing and car, nothing about 
 those who inhabited it immediately before; mnd their 
 brief memorial will be as quickly blotted out by the per- 
 sons whom chance may afterwards place in the same 
 situation. Thus, while the great city brings the bodies 
 
 40 of men together, it scatters their minds, breaks all the 
 ties and links of Bympathetir society, and piles up its 
 tens and hundreds of thousands, (to all intents and pur- 
 poses of deep feeling and delightful intercourse,) like 
 the cold. hard, unadherini: and mu-nnnected particl- 
 
 45 a mountain <>f sand, which the wind of whim, or chance, 
 
 mmerce, may whisk about just as the sand parti- 
 
 cles by the Red Sea are whisked about on the wings of 
 
 the deadly sarniel. lu the retirement of the country, 
 
 and especially in that country from which our humble 
 
 50 visitors have come, and to which our lovely heroine is 
 looking, it is not so. There man !> united to man, and 
 ge i* linked with age. in the closest ties of friendship. 
 the moat delightful bonds of sympathy, the most touching
 
 Ex. 101, 102.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 257 
 
 reminiscences of sorrow, and the fondest anticipations 
 60 of hope. If a man would eat, drink, die, and be forgot- 
 ten, let his dwelling-place be in the city : if he would live, 
 love, and be remembered, let him speed him to the glens 
 of the mountains. 
 
 EXERCISE 102. 
 Summary Punishment. WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 It was under the burning influence of revenge that 
 the wife of MacGregor commanded that the hostage ex- 
 changed for her husband's safety should be brought into 
 her presence. I believe her sons had kept this unfortu- 
 5 nate wretch out of her sight, for fear of the consequences ; 
 but if it was so, their humane precaution only postponed 
 his fate. They dragged forward at her summons a wretch 
 already half dead with terror, in whose agonized features 
 I recognized, to my horror and astonishment, my old ac- 
 
 10 quaint ance Morris. 
 
 He fell prostrate before the female chief, with an ef- 
 fort to clasp her knees, from which she drew back, as if 
 his touch had been pollution, so that all he could do in 
 token of the extremity of his humiliation, was to kiss 
 
 15 the hem of her plaid. I never heard entreaties for life 
 poured forth with such agony of spirit. The ecstasy of 
 fear was such, that instead of paralyzing his tongue, as 
 on ordinary occasions, it even rendered him eloquent ; 
 and, with cheeks as pale as ashes, hands compressed in 
 
 20 agony, eyes that seemed to be taking their last look of 
 all mortal objects, he prayed but for life for life he 
 'would give all he had in the world : it was but life he 
 asked life, if it were to be prolonged under tortures and 
 privations : he asked only breath, though it should be 
 
 25 drawn in the depths of the lowest caverns of their hills. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the scorn, the loathing, 
 and contempt, with which the wife of MacGregor re- 
 garded this wretched petitioner for the poor boon of ex- 
 istence. 
 
 30 She gave a brief command in Gaelic to her attendants, 
 two of whom seized upon the prostrate suppliant, and 
 hurried him to the brink of a cliff which overhung the 
 flood. He set up the most piercing and dreadful cries,
 
 258 ExnctBRS. PART n. [Ex. 102, KKJ. 
 
 that fear ever uttered I may well term them dreadful, 
 
 35 for they haunted my sleep for years afterwards. 
 
 I was so much moved by this horrid spectacle, that 
 although in momentary expectation of sharing his fate, I 
 did attempt to speak in his behalf, but, as might have 
 been expected, my interference was sternly disregarded. 
 
 40 The victim was held fast by some, while others, binding 
 a large heavy stone in a plaid, tied it ruund his neck, 
 and others again, eagerly stripped him of some part of 
 his dress. Half-naked and thus manacled, they hurried 
 him into the lake, there about twelve feet deep, drowning 
 
 46 his last death-shriek with a loud halloo of vindictive 
 triumph, over which, however, the yell of mortal agony 
 was distinctly heard. The heavy burden splashed in 
 the dark blue waters of the lake, and the Highlanders, 
 with their pole-axes and swords, watched an instant, 
 
 50 to guard, lest extricating himself from the load to 
 which he was attached, he might have struggled to re- 
 gain the shore. But the knot had been securely bound ; 
 the victim sunk without effort ; the waters which his 
 fall had disturbed, settled calmly over him ; and the 
 
 55 unit of that life for which be had pleaded so strongly, 
 was forever withdrawn from the sum of human ex- 
 
 EXERCISE 103. 
 On the receipt of hit Mother $ Picture. COWPMU 
 
 Could Time, his flight reverse, restore the hours, 
 When, playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 
 The violet, the pink, the jessamine, 
 I prick'd them into paper with a pin, 
 5 (And thou wast happier than myself the while, 
 
 \N .midst softly speak, and str"k<- my head and smile,) 
 
 ild those few pleasant days again appear, 
 Might one irish bring them, would I wish them here ? 
 I would not trtut my heart the dear delight 
 10 Seems so to be desired, perhaps T might. 
 But, no what here we call our life is such, 
 So little to be loved, and thou so much, 
 That I should ill requite thee to constrain 
 Thy unbound spirit into bonds
 
 Ex. 103, 104.] EXERCISES. PART IL 259 
 
 15 Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast, 
 (The storms all weather'd, and the ocean cross'd,) 
 Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle, 
 Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, 
 There sits quiescent on the floods, that show 
 
 20 Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
 While airs impregnated with incense play 
 Around her fanning light her streamers gay ; 
 So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reach'd the shore 
 " Where tempests never beat, nor billows roar " 
 
 25 And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 
 Of life long since has anchor 'd by thy side. 
 But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
 Always from port withheld, always distress'd 
 Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest-toss'd, 
 
 30 Sails ripp'd, seams opening wide, and compass lost, 
 And day by day some current's thwarting force, 
 Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. 
 Yet, the thought, that thou art safe, and he ! 
 That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
 
 35 My boast is not, that I deduce my birth 
 
 From loins enthroned, and rulers of the Earth ; 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rise 
 The son of parents, passed into the skies. 
 
 EXERCISE 104. 
 Extract from " The Grave." MONTGOMERY. 
 
 1 There is a calm for those who weep ; 
 
 A rest for weary pilgrims found : 
 They softly lie, and sweetly sleep, 
 Low in the ground ! 
 
 2 The storm that wrecks the winter sky 
 
 No more disturbs their deep repose, 
 Than summer-evening's latest sigh, 
 That shuts the rose. 
 
 3 I long to lay this painful head, 
 
 And aching heart, beneath the soil ; 
 To slumber in that dreamless bed, 
 From all my toil. 

 
 i:xeiciBs. PART n. [Ex. 104, 
 
 4 Art thou a wanderer ? hast them seen 
 
 OVrw helming tempests drown thy bark? 
 A shipwreck'd sufferer bast thou been, 
 Misfortune's mark ? 
 
 5 Though long of winds and waves the sport, 
 
 Condemn d in wretchedness to roam, 
 Lave ! thou shall reach a sheltering port, 
 A ijuiet home ! 
 
 6 There i* a calm for those who weep ! 
 
 A rest for weary pilgrims found : 
 And while the mouldering ashes sleep 
 Low in the ground ; 
 
 7 The soul, of origin Divine, 
 
 God's glorious image, freed from clay, 
 In Heaven's eternal sphere shall shine 
 A star of day ! 
 
 8 The mn, is bat a spark offirt, 
 
 A transient meteor in the sky ; 
 The Mttl, immortal as its Sire, 
 Shall never die ! 
 
 EXERCISE 106. 
 Defense of Johnson. CCURAN. 
 
 Even if it should be my client's fate to be surrender- 
 ed to his keepers to be torn from his family to have 
 his obsequies performed by torch light to be carried 
 to a foreign land, and to a strange tribunal, where no 
 5 witness can attest has innocence, where no voice that 
 he ever heard can be raised in his defense, where he 
 must stand mute, not of his own malice, but the malice of 
 his enemies yes, even so, I see nothing for him to fear ; 
 that all-irrodous Being, that shields the feeble from the 
 
 10 oppressor, will fill his heart with hope, and confidence, 
 and courage; his *ufl~> irmor, and his 
 
 weakness will be his strength. He will find himself in 
 the hands of a brave, a just, and a generous nation he 
 will find that the bright examples of her Russels and 
 
 15 her Sydneys have not been lost to her children. They
 
 Jbix. 105.] liiERCWKsS. PAET II. Xitfl 
 
 will behold him with sympathy and respeit, and his 
 persecutors with shame and abhorrence they will 
 feel too, that what is then his situation, may to-morrow 
 be their own but their first tear will be shed for him, 
 
 20 and the second only for themselves. Their hearts will 
 melt in his acquittal ; they will convey him kindly and 
 fondly to their shore ; and he will return in triumph to 
 his country ; to the threshhold of his sacred home, and to 
 the weeping welcome of his delighted family. He will 
 
 25 find that the darkness of a weary and lingering night 
 hath at length passed away, and that joy cometh in the 
 morning. No, my lords, I have no fear for the ultimate 
 safety of my client. Even in these very acts of brutal 
 violence that have been committed against him, do I 
 
 30 hail the flattering hope of final advantage to him and 
 not only of final advantage to him, but of better days and 
 more prosperous fortune for this afflicted country that 
 country of which I have so often abandoned all hope, 
 and which I have been so often determined to quit for- 
 
 35 ever. 
 
 I have repented I have staid and I am at once re- 
 buked and rewarded by the happier hopes that I now 
 entertain. In the anxious sympathy of the public in 
 the anxious sympathy of my learned brethren, do I catch 
 
 40 the happy presage of a brighter fate for Ireland. They 
 see, that within these sacred walls, the cause of liberty 
 and of man may be pleaded with boldness and heard 
 with favor. I am satisfied they will never forget the 
 great trust, of which they alone are now the remaining 
 
 45 depositaries. While they continue to cultivate a sound 
 philosophy a mild and tolerating Christianity and to 
 make both the sources of a just and liberal, and consti- 
 tutional jurisprudence, I see every thing for us to hope ; 
 into their hands, therefore, with the most affectionate 
 
 50 confidence in their virtue, do I commit these precious 
 hopes. Even / may live long enough yet to see the 
 approaching completion, if not the perfect accomplish- 
 ment of them. Pleased shall I then resign the scene to 
 fitter actors pleased shall I lay down my wearied head 
 
 55 to rest, and say, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant 
 depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes 
 have seen thy salvation."
 
 263 EXERCISES. FART II. [Ex. 106. 
 
 I:\I-.RCISK io. 
 
 Taking of Warsaw. CAMPBELL. 
 
 1 When leagued Oppression pour'd to northern wars 
 Her whisker'd pandours and her fierce hussars. 
 Waved her dread standard to the breeze of mom, 
 Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn ; 
 Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, 
 Presaging wrath to Poland and to man ! 
 
 2 Warsaw's last champion, from her hight surrey'd, 
 Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid, 
 
 () Oh ! Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save ; 
 
 Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? 
 
 Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, 
 
 Rise, fellow men ! our country yet remains ! 
 
 By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, 
 
 And swear for her to live ! with her to die! 
 
 He said, and on the rampart-hights array M 
 is trusty-warriors, few, but undismay'd ! 
 Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
 Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; 
 Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
 Revenye or death, the watchword and reply ; 
 (<) Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
 And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm ! 
 
 4 ( ) In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! 
 From rank to rank your volley 'd thunder flew: 
 Oh ! bloodiest picture in the hook of Time, 
 Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; 
 Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, 
 Strength in her arms, nor merry in her woe! 
 Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear. 
 Closed her I'right eye, and curh'd her high career! 
 Hope, for a season, hade the world farewell, 
 And Freedom shriek'd as Kotriuskn fell. 
 
 6 The sun went down, nor ceased the carnage there, 
 Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air- 
 On Prague's proud arch the 6res of ruin glow, 
 His blood-dyed waters murmuring far below;
 
 Ex. 106, 107.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 263 
 
 The storm prevails, the ramparts yield away, 
 Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay; 
 Hark ! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall, 
 A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call ! 
 Earth shook red meteors flash'd along the sky, 
 And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry ! 
 
 6 Departed spirits of the mighty dead ! 
 Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ! 
 Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man, 
 Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van ! 
 Yet for Samartia's tears of blood atone, 
 And make her arm puissant as your own ! 
 Oh ! once again to Freedom's cause return 
 The patriot Tell the Bruce of Bannockburn 
 
 EXERCISE 107. 
 Lord Chatham. BUTLER. 
 
 Of those, by whom Lord North was preceded, none 
 probably, except Lord Chatham, will be remembered by 
 posterity ; but the nature of the eloquence of this extra- 
 ordinary man, it is extremely difficult to describe. 
 5 No person in his external appearance was ever more 
 bountifully gifted by nature for an orator. In his look 
 and his gesture, grace and dignity were combined, but 
 dignity presided; the "terrors of his beak, the light- 
 nings of his eye," were insufferable. His voice was both 
 
 10 full and clear ; his lowest whisper was distinctly heard, 
 his middle tones were sweet, rich, and beautifully varied ; 
 when he elevated his voice to its highest pitch, the 
 House was completely filled with the volume of the 
 sound. The effect was awful, except when he wished 
 
 15 to cheer or animate; he then had spirit-stirring notes, 
 which were perfectly irresistible. He frequently rose, 
 on a sudden, from a very low to a very high key, but it 
 seemed to be without effort. His diction was remark- 
 ably simple, but words were never chosen with greater 
 
 20 care; he mentioned to a friend, thsfc he had perused 
 some of Dr. Barrow's Sermons so often as to know them 
 by heart.
 
 [Ex. lu7. 
 
 His sentMaenU too, were apparently simple ; but senti- 
 
 25 ments were never adopted or uttered with greater skill ; 
 he was often familiar and even playful, but it was the fa- 
 miliarity .-UK! pl.iyluliH-vs of condescension the lion that 
 dandled with the kid. The trrnbic, however, was his pe- 
 culiar power Then the whole House suok before him. 
 
 30 Still he was dignified ; and wonderful as was his eloquence, 
 it was attended with this m-.-t important effect, that it 
 impressed every hearer with a conviction, that there was 
 something in him even finer than his words ; that the 
 man was infinitely greater than the orator. No impres- 
 
 35 sion of this kind was made by the eloquence of his son, or 
 his son's anta^oi:: 
 
 Still, with the great man, for great he certainly was, 
 manner did much. One of the fairest specimens which 
 we possess of his lordship's oratory, is his speech, in 
 
 40 1776, for the repeal of the stamp act. 
 
 Most, perhaps, who read the. report of this speech in 
 Almon's Register, will wonder at the effect, which it is 
 known to have produced on the hearers ; yet the report 
 is tolerably exact, and exhibits, although faintly, its lead- 
 
 45 ing features. But they should have seen the look of in- 
 effable contempt, with which he surveyed the late Mr. 
 Orenville, who sat within one of him, and should have 
 heard him say with that look, " As to the late minis- 
 try, every capital measure they have taken, has been 
 
 50 entirely wrong." They should also have beheld him, 
 when addressing himself to Mr. Grenville's successors, 
 he said, " As to the present gentlemen, those, at 
 least, whom 1 have in my eye," -(lacking at the bench 
 on which Mr. Conway sat,) " I htiwe no objection ; I 
 
 55 have never been made a sacrifice by any of them. 
 
 Some of them have done me the honor to ask my poor 
 
 opinion, before they would engage to repeal the act : 
 
 they will do me the justice, to own, I did advise them to 
 
 .'.ge to do it, hut notwithstanding (for I love to be 
 
 60 explicit,) I cannot give them ray confidence. Pardon 
 me, gentlemen," (bowing to them,) " confaUnc* is a 
 plant of ,v/o/r .rrowth." Those, who remember the air 
 of condescending protection, with which the bow was 
 made and the look given, when he spoke these words, 
 
 65 will recollect how much they themselves, at the moment, 
 were both delighted and awed, and what they them-
 
 Ex. 107, 108.] iiXERCISBS. PART U. 
 
 selves then conceived of the immeasurable superiority 
 of the orator over every human being that surrounded 
 him. In the passages which we have cited, there is 
 70 nothing which an ordinary speaker might not have said ; 
 it was the manner, and the manner only, which produced 
 the effect. 
 
 EXERCISE 108. 
 v Mr. Fox and Mr. Pitt. BUTLER. 
 
 On his first separation from the ministry, Mr. Fox as- 
 sumed the character of a whig. 
 
 Almost the whole of his political life was spent in op- 
 position to his majesty's ministers. In vehemence and 
 5 power of argument he resembled Demosthenes ; but 
 there the resemblance ended. He possessed a strain of 
 ridicule and wit, which nature denied to the Athenian ; 
 and it was the more powerful, as it always appeared to 
 be blended with argument, and to result from it. To 
 
 10 the perfect composition which so eminently distinguishes 
 the speeches of Demosthenes, he had no pretence. He 
 was heedless of method : having the complete command 
 of good words, he never sought for better: if those, 
 which occurred, expressed his meaning clearly and for- 
 
 15 cibly, he paid little attention to their arrangement or 
 harmony. 
 
 The moment of his grandeur was, when, after he had 
 stated the argument of his adversary, with much greater 
 strength than his adversary had done, and with much 
 
 20 greater than any of his hearers thought possible, he 
 seized it with the strength of a giant, and tore and 
 trampled on it to destruction. If, at this moment, he 
 had possessed the power of the Athenian over the pas- 
 sions or the imaginations of his hearers, he might have 
 
 25 disposed of the House at his pleasure ; but this was de- 
 nied to him ; and, on this account, his speeches fell very 
 short of the effect, which otherwise they must have pro- 
 duced. 
 
 It is difficult to decide on the comparative merit of 
 
 30 him and Mr. Pitt; the latter had not the vehement 
 reasoning, or argumentative ridicule, of Mr. Fox : but 
 12
 
 EXEKMB9. fAMT II. [Hx. 106, 100. 
 
 he had more kplendor, more imagery, and much more 
 method and discretion. His long, lofty, and reverential 
 paaegyrio* of the British constitution, his eloquent vitu- 
 
 35 ptrrtsBM of those, whom he described as advocating 
 the democratic spirit, then let loose on the inhabitants of 
 the earth, and his solemn adjuration of the Houae to de- 
 fend and to assist him, in defending their all again.-t it, 
 were, in the highest degree, both imposing and concili- 
 
 40 ating. In addition, he had the command of bitter, con- 
 temptuous sarcasm, which tortured to madness. This 
 he could expand or compress at pleasure : even in one 
 member of a sentence, he could inflict a wound that was 
 never healed. 
 
 45 Mr. Fox had a captivating irnextnt of tone and 
 manner; Mr. Pitt was more dignified than earnest. 
 The action of Mr. Fox was easy and graceful ; Mr. Pitt's 
 cannot be praised. It was an observation of the reporters 
 in the gallery, that it required great exertion to follow 
 
 50 Mr. Fox while he was speaking; none to remember 
 what he had said; that it was easy and delightful to 
 follow Mr. Pitt ; not so easy to recollect what bad 
 delighted them. It may be added, that, in all Mr. 
 Fox s speeches, even when he was most violent, there 
 
 55 was an unquestionable indication of good humor, which 
 attracted every heart. When- there was such a seeming 
 equipoise of merit, the two last circumstances might be 
 thought to turn the scale; but Mr. Pitt's undeviating 
 circumspection, sometimes concealed, sometimes osten- 
 
 60 tatiously displayed, tended to obtain for him, from 
 the considerate and the grave, a confidence which they 
 denied to his rival. 
 
 r.xr.urisi: 109. 
 
 Dtalh of Is>rd Chatham. PKRCT. 
 
 Chatham enu-rnl th. House .f Ix>rds for the but 
 tine on the 7th of April, 1778, leaning upon two friends. 
 He was wrapped up in flannel, and looked pale and ema- 
 ciated. His eye was still penetrating ; ana though with 
 5 the evident appearance of a dying man, there M*er was 
 ceo a figure of more dignity ; he appeared like a beimg
 
 Ex. 109.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 267 
 
 of superior species. He rose from his seat slowly, and 
 with difficulty, leaning on his crutches, and supported 
 under each arm by two of his friends. He took one 
 
 10 hand from his crutch, and raised it, casting his eyes 
 toward heaven, and said, " I thank God that I have been 
 enabled to come here this day to perform my duty, and 
 to speak on a subject which has so deeply impressed my 
 mind. I am old and infirm ; have one foot, more than 
 
 15 one foot, in the grave. I am risen from my bed, to stand 
 up in the cause of my country ! perhaps never again to 
 speak in this House !" At first he spoke in a very low 
 and feeble tone ; but as he grew warm, his voice rose, 
 and was as harmonious as ever, perhaps more oratorical 
 
 20 and affecting than at any former period ; both from his 
 own situation, and from the importance of the subject on 
 which he spoke. He gave the whole history of the Ameri- 
 can war ; of all the measures to which he had objected ; 
 and all the evils which he had prophesied would be the 
 
 25 consequence of them ; adding, at the end of each, " And 
 so it proved." 
 
 In one part of his speech he ridiculed the apprehen- 
 sion of an invasion ; and then recalled the remembran- 
 ces of former invasions. " Of a Spanish invasion, of a 
 
 30 French invasion, of a Dutch invasion, many noble lords 
 -may have read in history ; and some lords (looking keenly 
 at one who sat near him,) may perhaps remember a Scotch 
 invasion !" 
 
 When the Duke of Richmond was speaking, he looked 
 
 35 at him with attention and composure ; but when he rose 
 to answer, his strength failed him, and he fell backward. 
 He was instantly supported by those who were near him. 
 He was then carried to Mr. Serjent's house in Downing- 
 street ; and from thence conveyed home to Hayes, and 
 
 40 put to bed, from which he never rose. Such was the 
 glorious end of the great Lord Chatham, who died in the 
 discharge of a great political duty, a duty which he came 
 in a dying state to perform.
 
 268 SjyUOMBS. PART 11. [Ex. 110. 
 
 EXERCISE 110. 
 Lord Mansfield. PERCY. 
 
 It is yet the traditionary tale of the country that gave 
 this ere it orator and lawyer birth, that almost in infancy 
 he was accustomed to dtvlairn upon his native mountains, 
 and repeat to the winds the most celebrated speeches of 
 5 Demosthenes and Cicero, not only in their original text, 
 but in his o\\n translations of them. 
 
 Mansfield advanced to the dignities of the state by 
 rapid strides. They were not bestowed by the caprice 
 of party favor or affection : they were (as was said of 
 
 10 Pliny) liberal dispensations of power, upon an object that 
 knew how to add new lustre to that powi r, by the rational 
 exertion of his own. 
 
 As a Speaker in the House of Lords, he was without 
 a competitor. His language was elegant and perspicu- 
 
 15 ous, arranged with the happiest method, and applied 
 with the utmost extent of human ingenuity ; his images 
 were often bold, and always just; but the more prevail- 
 ing character of his eloquence, was that of being flowing, 
 soft, delightful, and averting. Among his more rare 
 
 20 qualifications, may be ranked the external graces <.f his 
 
 n : the fire and vivacity of his looks; the delicious 
 
 harmony of his voice ; and that habitual fitness in all he 
 
 said, which gave to his speeches more than the effect of 
 
 the most labored compositions. He was modest and un- 
 
 25 assuming; n ending to personal altercation, or 
 
 even replying to personal reflections, except when they 
 went to affect the integrity of his public character. When 
 instances of the latter occurred, he evinced that he was 
 not without a spirit to repel them; of this he tr 
 
 30 memorable proof, in the debate on Wilke's outlawry, 
 when, In-ing accused nf braving the popular opinion. In- 
 replied in the following noble strain of e!o<jin n 
 
 " If I have ever supported the king's measures ; if I 
 have ever afforded any assistance to government ; if I 
 
 85 have discharged my duty as a public or private officer, 
 by endeavoring to preserve pure and perfect the prin- 
 ciples of the constitution ; maintaining unsullied the 
 honor of the courts of justice; and by an upright ad- 
 ministration '/, to give due effect to, the laws ; I have
 
 Ex.110.] EXERCISES. PART II. 269 
 
 -' ; 
 
 40 hitherto done it without any other gift or reward than that 
 most pleasing and most honorable one, the conscientious 
 conviction of doing what is right. I do not affect to 
 scorn the opinion of mankind ; 1 wish earnestly for pop- 
 ularity ; but I will tell you how I will obtain it : I will 
 
 45 have that popularity which follows, and not that which is 
 run after. 'Tis not the applause of a day ; 'tis not the 
 huzzas of thousands that can give a moment's satisfac- 
 tion to a rational being ; that man's mind must, in- 
 deed, be a weak one, and his ambition of a most depraved 
 
 50 sort, who can be captivated by such wretched allure- 
 ments, or satisfied with such momentary gratifications. 
 I say with the Roman orator, and can say it with as much 
 truth as he did, " Ego hoc animo semperfui ut invidiam 
 virtute partem, gloriam non infamiam putarem." But 
 
 55 threats have been carried further ; personal violence has 
 been denounced, unless public humor be complied with. 
 I do not fear such threats ; I don't believe there is any 
 reason to fear them ; it is not the genius of the worst of 
 men in the worst of times, to proceed to such shocking 
 
 60 extremities ; but if such an event should happen, let it 
 be so ; even such an event might be productive of whole- 
 some effects ; such a stroke might rouse the better part of 
 the nation from their lethargic condition, to a state of ac- 
 tivity, to assert and execute the law, and punish the daring 
 
 65 and impious hands, which had violated it ; and those who 
 now supinely behold the danger which threatens all lib- 
 erty, from the most abandoned licentiousness, might by 
 such an event be awakened to a sense of their situation, 
 as drunken men are often shamed into sobriety. If the 
 
 70 security of our persons and property, of all wo hold dear 
 or valuable, are to depend upon the caprice of a giddy 
 multitude, or to be at the disposal of a mob ; if, in com- 
 pliance with the humors, and to appease the clamors of 
 these, all civil and political institutions are to be disre- 
 
 75 garded or overthrown ; a life somewhat more than sixty, 
 is not worth preserving at such a price, and he can never 
 die too soon, who lays down his life in support and vindi- 
 cation of the policy, the government, and the constitution 
 
 80 of his country."
 
 KXKBCISEfl. PA*T 11. [Ex. HI 
 
 i:\r.K< ISK in. 
 
 Providential Distinctions. POLLOK. 
 One man there was, and many such you might 
 Have met who never had a dozen thoughts 
 In all his life, and never changed their course ; 
 But told them o'er, each in its 'custom'd place, 
 5 From morn till night, frum youth till hoary age. 
 Little above the ox which grazed the Bold 
 His reason rose : so weak his memory, 
 The name his mother call'd him by, he scarce 
 Remember 'd ; and his judgment so untaught, 
 
 10 That what at evening play d along the swamp 
 Fantastic, clad in robe of fiery hue, 
 He thought the devil in disguise, and fled 
 With quivering heart, and winged footsteps home. 
 The word Philosophy he never heard, 
 
 15 Or Science ; never heard of Liberty, 
 Necessity ; or laws of gravitation : 
 And never had an unbelieving doubt. 
 Beyond his native vale he never look'd ; 
 But thought the visual line, that girt him round, 
 
 20 The world's extreme : and thought the silver moon, 
 That nightly o'er him led her virgin host, 
 No broader titan his father's shield, lie lived 
 Lived where his father lived died where he died ; 
 Lived happy, and died happy, and was sa 
 
 25 Be not surprised. He loved, and served his God. 
 
 There was another, large of understanding, 
 Of memory infinite, of judgment deep : 
 Who knew all learning, and all science knew ; 
 And all phenomena in heaven and earth, 
 
 30 Traced to their causes ; traced the labyrinth* 
 Of thought, association, passion, will ; 
 And all the subtile, nice affinities 
 Of matter, traced ; its virtues, motions, laws ; 
 And most familiarly and deeply tolk'd 
 
 35 Of mental, moral, natural, divine. 
 
 Leaving the earth at will, he soar'd to heaven. 
 And read the gloriou> \i>i<ms of the skies ; 
 And to the music of the rolling sphere* 
 Intelligently listen'd ; and gazed far back, 
 
 40 Into the awful depths of Deity.
 
 Ex. Ill, 112.] EXERCISES. PART H. , 271 
 
 ; ~ 
 
 Did all, that man assisted most, could do ; 
 And yet in misery lived, in misery died, 
 Because he wanted holiness of heart. 
 
 A deeper lesson this to mortals taught, 
 45 And nearer cut the branches of their pride : 
 That not in mental, but in moral worth, 
 God, excellence placed ; and only to the good, 
 To virtue, granted happiness alone. 
 
 EXERCISE 112. 
 Eloquence of Bossuet. BUTLER. 
 
 We have mentioned Mr. Burke's endless corrections of 
 his compositions ; Bossuet, by the account of his Bene- 
 dictine editors, was equally laborious ; but in this they 
 differed : that Burke appears to have been satisfied with 
 5 his original conceptions, and to have been fastidious 
 only in respect to words and phrases ; Bossuet seems to 
 have been equally dissatisfied with his first thoughts and 
 his first words. 
 
 Rousseau himself has informed us, that between his 
 
 10 first committing of a sentence to paper, and his final 
 settlement of it, his obliterations and alterations were 
 countless. That this should have been the case of such 
 writers as Robertson or Gibbon, is not surprising ; their 
 eternal batteries and counter-batteries of words, seem 
 
 15 to be the effect of much reflection, and many second 
 thoughts ; but that it should have been the case with 
 writers like Bossuet, Burke, and Rousseau, who appear 
 to pour streams equally copious and rapid of unpremedi- 
 tated eloquence, appears extraordinary ; it justifies the 
 
 20 common remark, that we seldom read with pleasure, 
 what has not been composed with labor. Such are the 
 pages of Addison, such the Offices of Cicero; such also, 
 but in a superlative degree, are many passages of Milton. 
 Akenside, his imitator, with all his genius, taste, and 
 
 25 labor, never attained it ; he does not exhibit a single 
 instance of this perfect composition ; but we often find it 
 in Gray. 
 
 Every thing we know of Bossuet, leads us to think 
 that he had a very feeling heart ; it certainly is descerni-
 
 IXBRCJSBS. PART II. [Ex I I.' 
 
 80 ble in every line of his funeral oration on the Priix >s 
 Henrietta. He chose fur his text the verse 
 astes, so suitable to the occasion, "Vanity o! vanities! 
 All is vanity !" Having pronounced these words, he re- 
 mained for some time in silence, evidently overpowered 
 
 35 by his feelings. " It was to be my lot," he then ex- 
 claimed, "to perform this melancholy duty to the memory 
 of this illustrious princess ! She, whom I had obf" 
 so attentive, while I performed the same duty to her 
 royal mother, was herself so soon to become the theme 
 
 40 of a similar discourse ! And my voice was so soon 
 to be exerted in discharging the like melancholy duty 
 to her ! vanity ! O nothing ! O mortals ! ever igno- 
 rant of what awaits you ! But a month ago would she 
 have thought it V You. \\h then beheld her drown. -d 
 
 45 in tears for her mother's loss, would you have thought 
 it ? Would you have thought, that you were so soon to 
 meet again to bewail her own fate? O vanity of vani- 
 ties! All U vanity! These are the only words! the 
 only reflection, which, in such an event, my sorrow 
 
 50 leaves me !" 
 
 After this eloquent exordium, Bossuet pursues his dis- 
 mal theme. He describes, in strains, always eloquent, 
 ij. r .; but always mournful, the short but brilliant career of 
 the princess; so highly stationed, so greatly gifted, so 
 
 55 widely admired, and so generally loved ! The idol of 
 the world ! The pride of her august family ! The de- 
 light of all who approached her ! " Yet what," he ex- 
 claimed, "is all this, which we, so much below it, so 
 greatly admire! While we tremble in the view of the 
 
 60 greai iltes them, that they may serve as warn- 
 
 does he consider these great 
 in otten serve as mere materials 
 
 for our in-tnictioii ' We have always sufficient reason 
 to lie convinced of our nothingness; bat if, to wean our 
 
 05 hearts from the fascination of the world, the wonderful 
 
 and the astonishing is necessary, what we now behold 
 
 is sutticientlv terrible. O ni^ht of woe ! O night of hor- 
 
 iki- a peal of thunder, t! 1 words, 
 
 !! / Henrietta is dead bant upon us! 
 
 YO Nothing rnld be heard but cries; nothing was discern- 
 
 y at ible but grief, despair, and the image of death !" The 
 wri* * timr mentioned that <^net pro
 
 Ex. 112, 113.] EXERCISES. rPART II. 273 
 
 - 
 
 nounced these words, the whole audience arose from 
 their seats ; that terror was visible in every countenance, 
 f 5 and that, for some moments, Bossuet himself was unable 
 to proceed. 
 
 **' 
 
 EXERCISE 113. 
 
 Eloquence of Bourdaloue, BUTLER. 
 In delivering his sermons, Bourdaloue used no action ; 
 Bossuet and Massillon used much ; the action of the last 
 was particularly admired. It produced an extraordinary 
 effect, when he pronounced his funeral oration upon 
 5 Louis the Fourteenth. The church was hung with black, 
 a magnificent mausoleum was raised over the bier ; the 
 edifice was filled with trophies and other memorials of the 
 monarch's past glories ; daylight was excluded, but in- 
 numerable tapers supplied its place, and the ceremony 
 
 10 was attended by the most illustrious persons in the king- 
 dom. Massillon ascended the pulpit, contemplated, for 
 some moments, the scene before him, then raised his 
 arms to heaven, looked down on the scene beneath, and, 
 after a short pause, slowly said, in a solemn, subdued 
 
 15 tone, " GOD ONLY is GREAT !" With one impulse, all the 
 auditory rose from their seats, turned to the altar, and 
 slowly and reverently bowed. 
 
 - Those who read sermons merely for their literary 
 merit, will generally prefer the sermons of Massillon to 
 
 20 those of Bourdaloue and Bossuet. But those who read 
 sermons for" -instruction, and whose chief object in the 
 perusal of them, is to be excited to virtue or confirmed 
 in her paths, will generally consider Bourdaloue as the 
 first of preachers, and every time they peruse him, will 
 
 25 feel new delight. 
 
 When we recollect before whom Bourdaloue preached ; 
 that he had, for his auditors, the most luxurious court 
 in Europe, and a monarch abandoned to ambition and 
 pleasure, we shall find it impossible not to honor the 
 
 30 preacher, for the dignified simplicity with which he 
 uniformly held up to his audience the severity of the 
 Gospel, and the scandal of the cross. Now and then, 
 and ever with a very bad grace, he makes an unmean- 
 ing compliment to the monarch. On these occasions, 
 
 35 his genius appears to desert him ; but he never disguises 
 
 1 '2*
 
 BXHCISES. PART II. [Ex. 113. 
 
 the morality of the Gospel, or withholds its threat*. In 
 one of the serin. -ns winch In- preached before the mon- 
 arch, he described, with matchless eloquence, the horrors 
 of an adulterous life, its abomination in the eje of God, 
 
 40 its scandal to man, and the public and private evils 
 
 which attend it : but he managed his discourse with BO 
 
 -much address, that he kept tin- king from suspecting 
 
 that the thunder ot tin- pn-arher was ultimately to fait 
 
 upon him. In general, Bourdaloue spoke in a level tone 
 
 46 ot voice, and with his eyes almost shut. On this occa- 
 sion, having wound up the attention of the mqnarch and 
 the audience to the highest pitch, he paused. The 
 audience expected something terrible, and seemed to fear 
 the next word. The pause continued for some time: 
 
 50 at length, the preacher, fixing his eyes directly on his 
 royal hearer, and in a tone of voice equally expressive 
 of horror and concern, said, in the words of the prophet, 
 " Thou art the man!" thru, leaving thc-c words to their 
 effect, he concluded with a mild and general prayer to 
 
 55 Heaven for the conversion of all sinners. A miserable 
 courtier observed, in a \\hi.-per. to the monarch, that the 
 boldness of the pr< ceded all bounds, and should 
 
 be checked. " No, sir," replied the monarch, " the 
 preacher has done his duty, let us do mm." When 
 
 60 the service was concluded, the monarch walked slowly 
 from the church, and ordered Bourdaloue into his pres- 
 ence. He remarked to him, his general protection of 
 religion, the. kindness winch he had ever shown to the 
 Society of Jesus, his particular attention* to Bourdaloue 
 
 65 and his friends. He then reproached him with the 
 
 strong language of the sermon, and asked him, what 
 
 could be his motive for insulting him, tim- publicly, 
 
 before his subjects ? Bourdaloue fell on his knees : 
 
 >d is my witness, that it was not my wish to insult 
 
 70 your majesty ; but I am a minister of God, and must not 
 disguise his truths. What 1 said in my sermon is my 
 morning and evening prayer: May God, in his infinite 
 mercy, grant me to see the day, when the greatest of 
 kind's shall be the holiest." The monarch was affected, 
 
 75 and silently dismissed the preacher: but, from this 
 tame, the court began to observe that change which 
 afterward, and at no distant period, led Louis to a life 
 of regularity and virtue.
 
 Ex. 114.] EXERCISES. PART II. 275 
 
 EXERCISE 114. 
 * Eloquence of Bridainc. BUTLER. 
 
 " The missionary orator, most renowned in our days," 
 says Maury, " was M. Bridaine. Highly gifted with 
 popular eloquence, full of animation, abounding in figures 
 and pathos, no one possessed, in an equal degree, the 
 5 rare talent of commanding an assembled multitude. 
 The organ of his voice was so powerful and happy, as to 
 render credible what ancient history relates of the de- 
 clamation of the ancients ; he made himself as well 
 heard in open air, to an assembly of 10,000 persons, as 
 
 10 if he spoke under the vault of the most sonorous temple. 
 In all he said, there might be discovered that natural 
 eloquence, which originates from genius ; that bound of 
 natural vigor, which is superior to any imitation. His 
 bold metaphors ; his quick and vivid turns of thought 
 
 15 and expression, equally surprised, affected, and delighted. 
 His eloquence was always simple, but it was always noble 
 in its simplicity. With these endowments, he never 
 failed to raise and preserve the attention of the people ; 
 they were never tired of listening to him." 
 
 20 In 1751, he preached in the church of St. Sulpice, at 
 Paris. His renown had prece'ded him ; and the temple 
 was filled with the highest dignitaries of the church and 
 state, decorated with the various insignia of their ranks 
 and orders. The venerable man ascended the pulpit, 
 
 25 cast a look of indignation and pity on his audience, re- 
 mained in silence for some moments, and then began 
 his sermon in these words : " In the presence of an 
 audience of a kind so new to me, it might, my brethren, 
 be thought, that I should not open my mouth, without 
 
 30 entreating your indulgence to a poor missionary, who 
 does not possess any one of the talents, which you are 
 "pleased to require from those, who address you on the 
 salvation of your souls. My feelings are very different. 
 May God forbid, that any minister of the Gospel shall 
 
 35 ever think he owes an apology for preaching Gospel 
 truths to you; for, whoever you are, you, like myself, 
 are sinners in the judgment of God. Till this day, I 
 have published the judgments of the Most High in the 
 temples roofed with straw : I have preached the rigors
 
 370 XBRCMES. FART II. [Ex. 114, 
 
 40 of penance to an audience, most, of whom wanted bread. 
 I have proclaimed, to tin- simple inhabitants of the vil- 
 lages, thr most terrible truths of religion. Unhappy 
 man! what have I done? I have afflicted the poor, 
 iht- U-i frit-mis of my (iod. 1 have carried consterna- 
 
 45 (ion and woe into simple and honest bosoms, which I 
 ought rather to have soothed and comforted. 
 
 "But here! where my eyes fall on the great, on the 
 rick, on the oppressors of suffering humanity, or on bold 
 and hardened sinners ; it is here, in the midst of these 
 
 60 scandals, that I ou^ht to make tin- ln-ly word resound 
 in all its thunders, and place on one side of roe, death, 
 that threatens you. and the great God, who is to judge 
 us all. Tremble, ye proud, disdainful men, who li.Mt n 
 to nit- ! Trt-mble ! for the abuse of favors of every kind, 
 
 55 which God has heaped on you ! Think on the certainty 
 of death: the unorrtainty of its hour: how terrible it 
 will be to you ! Think on final impenitence, on the 
 last judgment, on the small number of the elect, and, 
 above all, think on eternity! These are the subjects 
 
 upon which 1 shall discourse to you, and which, with tin- 
 feelings I have mentioned, I ought to unfold to \ou all in 
 all their tern 
 
 "Who." exclaims Cardinal Maury, "does not feel, 
 both while he reads, and after he has read such an ex- 
 
 65 ordium, how much this eloquence of the soul is beyond 
 the cold pretensions of the elegant men, with which our 
 pulpits are now filled ? Ye orators, who attend only to 
 your own reputation, atkr here your m; 
 
 Fall at the feet of this apostolic man, and learn, from a 
 
 70 missionary priest, what is true eloquence." 
 
 EXKUUSK 115. 
 Eloquence of Whitffield. GILLTM. 
 
 The eloquence of Whitt -field was indeed very great, 
 and of tin- truest kind, lie was utterly devoid of all ap- 
 pearance of affectation. He seemed to be quite uncon- 
 scious i : nts he possessed. The importance of 
 ft. and the regard due to his hearers engrossed 
 all his concern. He spoke like one who did not seek 
 their applause, but was concerned for th.-ir best interests;
 
 Ex. 115.] EXERCISES. PART II. 277 
 
 and who, from a principle of unfeigned love, earnestly 
 endeavored to lead them in the right way. And the 
 
 10 effect, in some measure, corresponded to the design. 
 They did not amuse themselves with commending his 
 discourses ; but being moved and persuaded by what he 
 said, entered into his views, felt his passions, and were 
 willing for a time, at least, to comply with all his requests. 
 
 15 The charm, however, was nothing else but the power of 
 his irresistible eloquence ; in which respect it is not easy 
 to say, whether he was ever excelled either in ancient or 
 modern times. 
 
 He had a strong and musical voice, and a wonderful 
 
 20 command of it. His pronunciation was not only proper, 
 but manly and graceful. Nor was he ever at a loss for 
 the most natural and strong expressions. Yet, these in 
 him were but lower qualities. 
 
 The grand sources of his eloquence were an exceeding 
 
 25 lively imagination, which made people think they saw 
 what he described ; an action still more lively, if possible, 
 by which, while every accent of his voice spoke to the ear, 
 every feature of his face, every motion of his hands, and 
 every gesture spoke to the eye. 
 
 30 An intimate friend of the infidel Hume, asked him 
 what he thought of Mr. Whitefield's preaching; for he 
 had listened to the latter part of one of his sermons at 
 Edinburgh. " He is, sir," said Mr. Hume, " the most 
 ingenious preacher I ever heard. It is worth while to go 
 
 35 twenty miles to hear him." He then repeated the fol- 
 lowing passage which he heard, towards the close of that 
 discourse : " After a solemn pause, Mr. Whitefield thus 
 addressed his numerous audience ; ' The attendant an- 
 gel is just about to leave the threshhold, and ascend to 
 
 40 heaven. And shall he ascend and not bear with him the 
 news of one sinner, among all this multitude, reclaimed 
 from the error of his ways ?' To give the greater effect 
 to this exclamation, he stamped with his foot, lifted up 
 his hands and eyes to heaven, and with gushing tears, 
 
 45 cried aloud, ' Stop, Gabriel! Stop, Gabriel! Stop, ere 
 you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the 
 news of one sinner converted to God.' He then, in the 
 most simple, but energetic language, described a Sav- 
 ior's dying love to sinful man ; so that almost the whole 
 
 50 assembly melted into tears. This address was accom-
 
 278 EXEBCISES. PART II. [Ex. 115, 
 
 panied with such animated, yet natural action, that it 
 surpassed any thing 1 ever saw or heard in any other 
 preacher." 
 
 Happy had it been for poor Hume, had he received 
 
 65 what he then heard, " as the word of God, and not as the 
 word of man !" 
 
 Dr. Franklin, in his memoirs, bears witness to the 
 extraordinary effect which was produced by Mr. White- 
 field's preaching in America ; and relates an anecdote 
 
 60 equally characteristic of the preacher and of himself. 
 " I happened," says the doctor, " to attend one of his 
 sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended 
 to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he 
 should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a 
 
 65 handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, 
 and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded, 1 began to 
 soften, and concluded to give the copper. Another 
 stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and de- 
 termined me to give the silver ; and he finished so adrai- 
 
 70 rably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the col- 
 lector's dish, gold and all. At this sermon there was 
 also one of our club ; who, being of my sentiment* re- 
 specting the building in Georgia, and suspecting a col- 
 lection might be intended, had by precaution emptied 
 
 75 his pockets before he came from home ; towards the 
 conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong 
 inclination to give, and applied to a neighbor who stood 
 near him, to lend him "some money for the purpose. 
 The request was fortunately made to perhaps the only 
 
 80 man in the company who had the firmness not to be 
 
 affected by tlu- pn-nrher. His answer was, 'At any 
 
 othfr time, friend Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee 
 
 y ; hut not now, for thee seems to be out of thy 
 
 right senses.' " 
 
 BCHH 116. 
 Satan t Lamentation. MILTON. 
 
 O had his pow'rful destiny ordain'd 
 Mi- some infirior angrl. I had stood 
 Then happy ; no unbounded hope had raised 
 Ambition. Yet why not ? Some other power
 
 Ex. 116.] EXERCISES. PART II. 279 
 
 5 As great might have aspired, and me, though mean, 
 
 Drawn to his part ; but other pow'rs as great 
 
 Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within 
 
 Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. 
 
 Hadst thou the same free will and pow'r to stand ? 
 10 Thou hadst : Whom hast thou then, or what, t' accuse, 
 
 But heaven's free love dealt equally to all ? 
 
 Me miserable ! which way shall I fly * 
 
 Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? 
 
 Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; 
 15 And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep 
 
 Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide, 
 
 To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. 
 
 O then at last relent : Is there no place 
 
 Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? 
 20 None left but by submission ; and that word 
 
 Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame 
 
 Among the sp'rits beneath, whom I seduced 
 
 With other promises and other vaunts 
 
 Than to submit, boasting I could subdue 
 25 Th' Omnipotent. Ah, me ! they little know 
 
 How dearly I abide that boast so vain ! 
 
 Under what torments inwardly I groan, 
 
 While they adore me on the throne of hell ! 
 
 With diadem and scepter high advanced 
 30 The lower still I fall, only supreme 
 
 In misery : Such joy ambition finds. 
 
 But say I could repent, and could obtain, 
 
 By act of grace, my former state ; how soon 
 
 Would hight recall high thoughts, how soon unsay 
 35 What feign'd submission swore ? ease would recant 
 
 Vows 'made in pain, as violent and void. 
 
 This knows my punisher : therefore as far 
 
 From granting he, as I from begging peace : 
 
 All hope excluded thus, behold instead 
 40 Of us outcast, exiled, his new delight, 
 
 Mankind created, and for him this world. 
 
 So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, 
 
 Farewell remorse : All good to me is lost.
 
 IIEECISIU. PART M. [Ex. 117. 
 
 BXKIU'ISi: 117. 
 Eloquence of Sher, 
 
 Public curiosity was scarcely ever so sirm 
 
 ested us (in the day when Mr. Sheridan \\as to speak on 
 
 the Begum charge on the impeachment of Mr. Hastings. 
 
 , The avenues leading to the hall were filled with persons of 
 
 6 the first distinction, many of them peeresses in full dress, 
 
 who waited in the open air for upwards of an hour and 
 
 a half, before the gates were opened, \vhen the crowd 
 
 pressed so eagerly forward, that many persons had nearly 
 
 perished. No extract can do justice to this speech ; the 
 
 10 following is a partial specimen of its power : 
 
 " When we hear the description of the paroxysm, fe- 
 ver, and delirium, into which despair hud thrown the na- 
 tives, when on the banks of the polluted Ganges, panting 
 for death, they tore more widely open the lips of their 
 
 15 gaping wounds, to accelerate their dissolution, and while 
 their blood was issuing, presented their ghastly eyes to 
 Heaven, breathing their last and fervent prayer, that the 
 dry earth might not be >ull'>-ivd to drink their blood, but 
 that it might rise up to the throne of God, and rouse the 
 
 20 eternal Providence to avenge the wrongs of tl.i-ir coun- 
 try'; what motive, could ha\e such inlluence in their bo- 
 som ? what motive! That which n common 
 parent, plants in the bottom of man, and which, though it 
 may be less active in the Indian than in the Englishman, 
 
 25 is still congenial with. ;.n<l makes part of his being; 
 
 that feeling which tells him, that man w.-is never made to 
 
 rty of man; but that, uhen through pride 
 
 and insolence of power, one human creature dares to 
 
 tvranni/' .;li r, it is a power usurped, and resist- 
 
 30 ance is a duty ; that feeling which tells him. that all 
 power is delegated for the good, not for the injury of Un- 
 people, and that when it is converted fr.im th- original 
 purpose, the compact is broken, and the right i> to be re- 
 sumed ; that principle wl-.irh tells him that resistance to 
 
 85 power usui; n-ly a duty which he owes to 
 
 himself and to Iris neighbor, but a duty which he owes to 
 his God, in asserting and maintaining tin 4 rank which he 
 gave him in the creation ! to that common God, who, 
 where he gives the form of man, whatever may be the
 
 Ex. 117.] EXERCISES. PART II. 281 
 
 40 complexion, gives also the feelings and the rights of man, 
 -tthat principle, which neither the rudeness of ignorance 
 can stifle, nor the enervation of refinement extinguish ! 
 that principle, which makes it base for a man to suffer 
 when he ought to act, which tending to preserve to the 
 
 45 species the original designations of Providence, spurns at 
 the arrogant distinctions of man, and vindicates the inde- 
 pendent quality of his race. 
 
 " The Majesty of Justice, in the eyes of Mr. Hastings, 
 is a being of terrific horror a dreadful idol, placed in 
 
 50 the gloom of graves, accessible only to cringing suppli- 
 cation, and which must be approached with offerings, 
 and worshiped by sacrifice. The Majesty of Mr. Has- 
 tings is a being, whose decrees are written with blood, 
 and whose oracles are at once secure and terrible. From 
 
 55 such an idol I turn mine eyes with horror I turn them 
 here to this dignified and high tribunal, where the Maj- 
 esty of Justice really sits enthroned. Here I perceive 
 the Majesty of Justice in her proper robes of truth and 
 mercy chaste and simple accessible and patient aw- 
 
 60 ful without severity, inquisitive, without meanness. I 
 see her enthroned and sitting in judgment on a great 
 and momentous cause, in which the happiness of millions 
 is involved. Pardon me, my lords, if I presume to say, 
 that in the decision of this great cause, you are to be en- 
 
 65 vied, as well as venerated. You possess the highest dis- 
 tinction of the human character ; for when you render 
 your ultimate voice on this cause, illustrating the dignity 
 of the ancestors from whom -you spring justifying the 
 solemn asseveration which you make vindicating the 
 
 70 people of whom you are a part and manifesting the in- 
 telligence of the times in which you live you will do 
 such an act of mercy, and blessing to man, as no men 
 but yourselves are able to grant." 
 
 On the conclusion of Mr. Sheridan's speech, the whole 
 
 "75 assembly, members, peers, and strangers, involuntarily 
 joined in a tumult of applause, and adopted a mode of 
 expressing their approbation new and irregular in that 
 House, by loudly and repeatedly clapping their hands. 
 A motion was immediately made and carried for an ad- 
 
 80 journment, that the members, who were in a state of de- 
 lirious insensibility, from the talismanic influence of such 
 powerful eloquence, might have time to collect their
 
 EXERCISE*. PART II. [Ex. 117, 118 
 
 scattered senses for the exercises of a sober judgment. 
 Tliis motion was made by Mr. Pitt, who dcehpcd that 
 85 this speech " surpassed all the eloquence of ancient and 
 modern times, and possesses every tiling that genius 
 <>r art could furnish, to agitate and control the human 
 mind." 
 
 He has this day," said Mr. Burke, "surprised the 
 90 thousands who hung with iiiptvip <>n Ins accents, by surh 
 an array of talents, such an exhibition of capacity, such 
 a display of powers, as are unparalleled in tin* annals of 
 oratory ! a display that reflects the highest honor upon 
 himself lustre upon letters renown upon parliament 
 95 glory upon the country. Of all species of rhetoric, of 
 every kind of eloquence that has been witnessed or re- 
 corded, either iu ancient or modem times : whatever the 
 acuteness of the bar, the dignity of the senate, the so- 
 lidity of the judgment seat, and the sacred morality of 
 
 100 the pulpit, have hitherto furnished, nothing has sur- 
 passed, nothing has equalled, what we have this day 
 heard in Westminister hall. No holy seer of religion, 
 no sage, no statesman, no orator, no man of any literary 
 description whatever, has come up in the one instance, 
 
 105 to the pure sentiments of morality ; or, in the other, to 
 that variety of knowledge, force of imagination, propriety 
 and vivacity of allusion, beauty and elegance of diction, 
 strength and copiousness of style, pathos and sublimity 
 of conception, to which we have this day listened with 
 
 110 ardor and admiration. From poetry up to eloquence, 
 there is not a species of composition, of which a com- 
 plete and perfect specimen might not from that single 
 speech be culled and collet ' 
 
 r.xr.unsK us. . 
 
 Spirit of the American Revolution. JOSIAH Qt INCT, JK. 
 
 Be not deceived, my countrymen. Believe not these 
 venal hirelings, when they would cajole you by their 
 Hubtilties into submission, or frighten you 1>\ their vapor- 
 ings into compliance. When they strive to flatter you 
 6 by the terms " moderation and prudence." tell them 
 that calmness and deliberation are to guide the judg- 
 nt ; courage and intrepidity command the action. 
 When they endeavor to make us " perceive our inabil-
 
 Ex. 118.] EXERCISES. PART II. 283 
 
 ity to oppose our mother country," let us boldly answer ; 
 
 10 In defence of our civil and religious rights, we dare 
 oppose the world ; with the God of armies on our side, 
 even the God who fought our fathers' battles, we fear not 
 the hour of trial, though the hosts of our enemies should 
 cover the field like locusts. If this be enthusiasm, we 
 
 15 will live and die enthusiasts. 
 
 Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor will threats 
 of a "halter" intimidate. For, under God, we are de- 
 termined, that wheresoever, whensoever, or howsoever 
 we shall be called to make our exit, we will die freemen. 
 
 20 Well do we know, that all the regalia of this world can- 
 not dignify the death of a villain, nor diminish the igno- 
 miny with which a slave shall quit existence. Neither 
 can it taint the unblemished honor of a son of freedom, 
 though he should make his departure on the already pre- 
 25 pared gibbet, or be dragged to the newly erected scaffold 
 for execution. With the plaudits of his country, and 
 what is more, the plaudits of his conscience, he will go 
 off the stage. The history of his life his children shall 
 venerate. The virtues of their sire shall excite their 
 
 30 emulation. 
 
 Who has the front to ask, Wherefore do you com- 
 plain ? Who dares assert that every thing worth living 
 for is not lost when a nation is enslaved ? Are not pen- 
 sioners, stipendiaries, and salary-men, unknown before, 
 
 35 hourly multiplying upon us, to riot in the spoils of miser- 
 able America ? Does not every eastern gale waft us 
 some new insect, even of that devouring kind, which eat 
 up every green thing ? Is not the bread taken out of the 
 children's mouths and given unto the dogs ? Are not our 
 
 40 estates given to corrupt sycophants, without a design, or 
 even a pretence of soliciting our assent ; and our lives 
 put into the hands of those whose tender mercies are 
 cruelties ? Has not an authority in a distant land, in the 
 most public manner, proclaimed a right of disposing of 
 
 45 the all of Americans ? In short, what have we to lose ? 
 What have we to fear ? Are not our distresses more 
 than we can bear ? And, to finish all, are not our cities 
 in a time of profound peace, filled with standing armies, 
 to preclude from us that last solace of the wretched to 
 
 60 open their mouths in complaint, and send forth their cries 
 in bitterness of heart ?
 
 KXERC18E8. PART II. [Ex. 118, 119. 
 
 But is there no ray of hope? Is not Great Britain in- 
 habited by the children of those ren.'W.-d barons, who 
 waded through seas of crimson gore to establish their 
 
 55 liberty ? and will they not allow us, their fellow-men, to 
 enjoy that freedom which we claim from nature, which 
 is confirmed by our constitution, and which they pretend 
 
 ( so highly to value '.' Were n tyrant to conquer us, the 
 chains of slavery, when opposition should become use- 
 
 60 less, might be supportable, but to be shackled t>\ 
 
 lishmen, by our equals, is not to be borne. By the 
 sweat of our brow we earn the little we possess ; from 
 nature we derive the common rights of man ; and by 
 charter we claim the liberties of Britons. Shall we. dare 
 
 65 we, pusillanimously surrender our birthright? Is the 
 obligation to our fathers discharged ? Is the debt we 
 owe posterity paid '.' Answer me, thou coward, who 
 hidest thyself in the hour of trial ! If there is no reward 
 in this life, no pri/.e of glorv in the next, capable of animat- 
 
 70 ing thy dastard soul, think and tremble, thou miscreant ! 
 at the whips and stripes thy master shall lash thee with 
 on earth, and the flames and scorpions thy second mas- 
 ter shall torment thee with hereafter ! 
 
 Oh, my countrymen ! what will our children say, 
 
 75 when th< y read the history of these times, should they 
 find thai we tamely gave away, without one noble strug- 
 gle, the most invaluable of earthly blessings ! As they 
 drag the galling chain will they not execrate us? If we 
 have any respect for things sacred, any regard to the 
 
 80 dearest treasure on earth ; if we have one tender sentiment 
 for posterity; if we would not \te despised by the whole 
 world ; let us, in the most opi-u, solemn manner, and with 
 determined fortitude, swear We will die, if we cannot 
 live freemen. 
 
 85 While we have equity, justice, nnd God on our side, 
 tyranny, spiritual, or temporal, shall never ride triumph- 
 ant in a land inhabit. -d by Knglishmen. 
 
 HXKKCISK 119. 
 
 .-/>. PHILIPS. 
 
 I appeal to History' Tell me, thou reverrnd chroni- 
 cler of the grave, can all the illusions of ambition n -il 
 ized, can all the wealth of n universal commerce, can all
 
 Ex. 119.] EXERCISES. PART II. 285 
 
 the achievements of successful heroism, or all the estab- 
 5 lishments of this world's wisdom, secure to empire the 
 permanency of its possessions '? Alas ! Troy thought 
 so once ; yet the land of Priam lives only in song ! 
 Thebes thought so once ; yet her hundred gates have 
 crumbled, and her very tombs are but as the dust they 
 
 10 were vainly intended to commemorate ! So thought 
 Palmyra where is she ? So thought the countries of 
 Demosthenes and the Spartan ; yet Leonidas is tram- 
 pled by the timid slave, and Athens insulted by the ser- 
 vile, mindless, and enervate Ottoman ! In his hurried 
 
 1> march, Time has but looked at their imagined immor- 
 tality ; and all its vanities, from the palace to the tomb, 
 have, with their ruins, erased the very impression of 
 his footsteps ! The days of their glbry are as if they had 
 never been ; and the island, that was then a speck, rude 
 
 20 and neglected in the barren ocean, now rivals the ubi- 
 quity of their commerce, the glory of their arms, the 
 fame of their philosophy, the eloquence of their senate, 
 and the inspiration of their bards ! Who shall say, then, 
 contemplating the past, that England, proud and potent 
 
 25 as she appears, may not, one day, be what Athens is, 
 and the young America yet soar to be what Athens 
 was ! Who shall say, that, when the European column 
 shall have mouldered, and the night of barbarism ob- 
 scured its very ruins, that mighty continent may not 
 
 30 emerge from the horizon, to rule, for its time, sovereign 
 of the ascendant \ * * * 
 
 Sir, it matters very little what immediate spot may 
 have been the birthplace of such a man as WASHING- 
 TON. No people can claim, no country can appropriate 
 
 35 him. The boon of Providence to the human race, his 
 fame is eternity, and his residence creation. Though 
 it was the defeat of our arms, and the disgrace of our 
 policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which he had 
 his origin. If the heavens thundered, and the earth 
 
 40 rocked, yet, when the storm had past, how pure was 
 the climate that it cleared ! how bright, in the brow of 
 the firmament, was the planet which it revealed to us ! 
 In the production of Washington it does really appear 
 as if nature was endeavoring to improve upon herself, 
 
 45 and that all the virtues of the ancient world were but so 
 many studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. In-
 
 KXKKC1SE8. - PART II. [Ex. 
 
 dividual instances, n-> do-,t!>t, then- were. splendid exem- 
 plifications of SMI)).- MM^ul.-ir qualification: Onesar was 
 merciful, Scipio was o.niinent, Hannibal was patient ; 
 
 50 but it was reserved for Washington to Mend them all 
 in one, and, lik- the lovely masterpiece of the Grecian 
 artist, to exhibit, in one glow of associated beauty, the 
 pride of every model, and the perfection of every mas- 
 ter. As a general, he marshaled the peasant into a 
 
 55 veteran, and supplied by discipline the absence of ex- 
 perience ; as a statesman, he enlarged the policy of the 
 cabinet into the most comprehensive system of general 
 advantage ; and such was the wisdom of his views, and 
 the philosophy of his counsels, that, to the soldier and 
 
 60 the statesman, he almost added the character of the 
 sage! A conquero'r, he was untainted with the crime 
 of blood ; a revolutionist, he was free from any stain of 
 treason ; for aggression commenced the contest, and 
 his country called him to the command. Liberty un- 
 
 6.5 sheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory returned it. 
 If he had paused here, history might have doubted what 
 station to assign him ; whether at the head of her citizrns, 
 or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patriots. But the last 
 glorious act crowns his career, and banishes all hesitation. 
 
 70 Who, like Washington, after having emancipated a hem- 
 isphere, resigned its crown, and preferred the retirement 
 of domestic life to the adoration of a land he might be 
 almost said to have created. 
 
 Happy, proud America! The lightnings of heaven 
 
 75 yielded to your philosophy ! The temptations of earth 
 could not seduce your patriotism ! 
 
 FAT. WISH 1-JO. 
 
 <>/ 177."). PATRICK II 
 
 Mr. ilenrv r'M- with a majesty unusual to him in an 
 
 '(limn, and with all that self-possession by which he 
 
 was so invariably distinguiflhod. " No man," he said, 
 
 "thought more highly than he did <>f th" patriotism, as 
 
 5 well as abilities, of t! 'lliy i;entl i nien who had 
 
 just addn-sv.-d the Hous.-. Hut dilf.-n-nt men often saw 
 
 the same Mihject in ditl'.-rcnt lights ; and, therefore, he 
 
 hoped it would not be thought disrespectful to those gen-
 
 Ex. 120.] EXERCISES. -PART II. 287 
 
 tleraen, if, entertaining as he did, opinions of a character 
 
 10 very opposite to theirs, he should speak forth his senti- 
 ments freely, and without reserve. This was no time for 
 ceremony. The question before the House was one of 
 awful moment to this country." He proceeded thus : 
 " MR. PRESIDENT It is natural for man to indulge in 
 
 15 the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against 
 a painful truth ; and listen to the song of that siren till 
 she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise 
 men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty ? 
 Are we disposed to be of the number of those, who, hav- 
 
 20 ing eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not, the things 
 which so nearly concern their temporal salvation ? For 
 my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am 
 willing to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and 
 to provide for it. 
 
 25 I have but one lamp, by which my feet are guided ; 
 and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way 
 of judging of the future but by the past. And, judging 
 by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the 
 conduct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, to 
 
 30 justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been 
 pleased to solace themselves and the House ? Is it that 
 insidious smile, with which our petition has been lately 
 received ? Trust it not, sir ; it will prove a snare to 
 your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a 
 
 35 kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our 
 petition comports with those warlike preparations, which 
 cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and 
 armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? 
 Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, 
 
 40 that force must be called in to win back our love ? Let 
 us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements 
 of war and subjugation the last arguments to which 
 kings resort. I ask gentlemen, sir, what means this 
 martial array, if its purpose be not to force us to sub- 
 
 4 5 mission ? Can gentlemen assign any other possible mo- 
 tive for it ? Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quar- 
 ter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of 
 navies and armies ? No, sir, she has none. They are 
 meant for us : they can be meant for no other. They 
 
 50 are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains, 
 which the British ministry have been so long forging.
 
 KCJSLS. - PAET II. 
 
 And what have w e to oj.yxc to them? Shall wo try 
 rj; - trying that for the last 
 
 ted \\, an\ upon the 
 
 55 sui> Nothing. We have held the subject up in 
 
 every light of which it is capalile ; but it has been all in 
 vain. Shall we r> .treaty and humble supplica- 
 
 tion? What ttrms shall we find, which have not been 
 already uclt </</.<.'<// Let us not, I beseech you, sir, de- 
 
 60 ceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done every thing 
 that could \ >) avert the storm which is now- 
 
 coming on. We ha\e petitioned; we h.. 
 ed ; we have supplicated; we lia\c pr-i-irated ourselves 
 before the throne, and have implored its interposition to 
 
 65 an , raiimcal hands of the ministry and parlia- 
 
 ment. Our petition^ ha\- been .-hinted; our reiuon- 
 
 .ares have produced additional violence and insult; 
 
 our supplications have been disregarded ; ( ) and we 
 
 have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the 
 
 70 throne. In vain, after these thin tn indulge 
 
 the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no 
 longer any r<#im for hope. If we wish to !> free ; if we 
 mean to preserve inviolate those in- privileges, 
 
 for which we have been so long contending; if we mean 
 
 75 not basely to abandon the noble sr i which we 
 
 have been so long engaged, and whieh we have pledged 
 ourselves never to abandon, until the -bject 
 
 of our contest shall be obtained ( ) we must jiyht. 
 I repent it! Sir, we must fiyl. ,1 to arms 
 
 80 and to the God of hosts, is all ti ft us. 
 
 They tell us, sir, that we are weak unal-le to cbpe 
 with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we 
 be Will it be the next next 
 
 year? Will it be when we are tot and 
 
 85 when a I>riti>h t, r >urd shall be Bl 
 
 Shall we gat: 'ih by irresolution and m.\- 
 
 !1 we acquire the '.stance by 
 
 Iving supinelv <-:i our h:n k-, and hugging the delu-ive 
 phantom of hope, until our IKMUH! us 
 
 00 hand and foot? Sir, we make a 
 
 proper use of those means which the God of i 
 hath placed in our power. Three millions of pe,j,le. 
 armed in the hoiv cause of liberty, and i: 
 try as that which we possess, are invincible by any
 
 EX. 120, 121.] EXERCISES. PART II. 289 
 
 95 which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we 
 shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God, 
 who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will 
 raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, 
 sir, is not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the 
 
 100 active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. 
 If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late 
 to retire from the contest. There is no retreat, but in 
 submission and slavery ! Our chains are forged. Their 
 clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston ! ( ) The 
 
 105 war is inevitable and let it come ! I repeat it, sir, let it 
 come ! 
 
 It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
 may cry, peace, peace but there is no peace. The war 
 is actually begun ! 
 
 110 The next gale that sweeps from the north, will bring- 
 to our ears the clash of resounding arms ! Our brethren 
 are already in the field ! Why stand we here idle ! What 
 is it that gentlemen wish ? what would they have ? Is 
 life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the 
 
 115 price of chains and slavery? ( ) Forbid it, Almighty God. 
 I know not what course others may take, but as for 
 me, give me liberty, or give me death /" 
 
 He took his seat. No murmur of applause was heard. 
 The effect was too deep. After the trance of a moment, 
 
 120 several members started from their seats. The cry, "to 
 arms," seemed to quiver on every lip, and gleam from 
 every eye ! Richard H. Lee arose and supported Mr. 
 Henry, with his usual spirit and elegance. But his mel- 
 ody was lost amidst the agitations of that ocean, which 
 
 125 the master spirit of the storm had lifted up on high. 
 That supernatural voice still sounded in their ears and 
 shivered along their arteries. They heard, in every 
 pause, the cry of liberty or death. They became im- 
 patient of speech their souls were on fire for action. 
 
 EXERCISE 121. 
 The discontented Pendulum. JANE TAYLOR. 
 
 An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farm- 
 er's kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of 
 complaint, early one summer's morning, before the fam- 
 
 rt
 
 20 KXBKC1SK8. PART II. [H\. 1 VJ 1 
 
 ily was stirring, suddenly stopped. I'pon this, the dial- 
 5 plate (if w> lit tin- fable), changed countenance 
 
 with alarm ; the hands made a vain cti'ort to continue 
 their course ; the wheels remained motionless with sur- 
 prise; the weights hung sj .. member Ml 
 disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the 
 
 10 dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of 
 
 nation, when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, pro- 
 tested their innocence. 
 
 But now a faint tick was heard below frum the pendu- 
 lum, who thus spoke: "I confess myself to be the sole 
 
 15 cause of the stoppage ! and I am willing, for the general 
 satisfaction, to assign n The truth is, that I am 
 
 tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the. old clock be- 
 came so enraged, that it was on the very point of striking. 
 "Lazy win- |" . vliiinied the dial-plate, holding up its 
 
 20 hands. "Very good!" replied the pendulum, "it is 
 
 ly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as 
 
 every body knows, set yourself up above me, it is vastly 
 
 easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of h/.iness! 
 
 You, who have had nothing to do all the days of your 
 
 25 life, but to stare people in th< ' d to amuse your- 
 
 self with watching all that goes on in the kitchen ! Think, 
 I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life 
 in this dark closet, and to wag backwards and forwards, 
 year after year, as [ do." 
 
 30 " As to that/' said the dial, " is there not a window in 
 your house, on purpose for you to look through ?" " For 
 all that," resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark here ; 
 and, although there is a window, I dare not 
 for an instant, to look out at i 68,1 am really 
 
 36 tired of my way of life; and if you wish, I'll tell 
 how I took this di>gu->t at my employment. I hap: 
 this morning to be calculating how many times I should 
 have to tick in the course of only the next twenty-four 
 hours ; perhaps some of you, above there, can give me the 
 
 40 exact sum." 
 
 The minute-hand, br-ing quick at figures, presently re- 
 plied, " Eighty-six thousand four hundred times." "Ex- 
 actly so," replied the pendulum. " Well, 1 appeal to 
 you all, if tin .light of this was not enough to 
 
 45 fatigue one ; and when 1 bc^an to multiply the strokes 
 of one day, by those of months and years, really it is no
 
 Ex. 121.] EXERCISES. PART II. 291 
 
 wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect ; so, after a 
 great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, 
 
 50 I'll stop." 
 
 The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during 
 this harangue ; but resuming its gravity, thus replied : 
 " Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such 
 a useful, industrious person as yourself, should have been 
 
 55 overcome by this sudden action. It is true, you have 
 done a great deal of work in your time ; so have we all, 
 and are likely to do ; which although it may fatigue us to 
 think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do. 
 Would you now do me the favor to give about half a 
 
 60 dozen strokes to illustrate my argument ?" 
 
 The pendulum complied, and ticked six times in its 
 usual pace. " Now," resumed the dial, " may I be al- 
 lowed to inquire, if that exertion was at all fatiguing or 
 disagreeable to you ?" " Not in the least," replied the 
 
 65 pendulum ; "it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor 
 of sixty, but of millions." " Very good," replied the 
 dial ; " but recollect that though you may think of a mil- 
 lion strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but 
 one ; and that however often you may hereafter have to 
 
 70 swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in." 
 " That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the 
 pendulum." " Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, 
 "we shall all immediately return to our duty; for the 
 maids will lie in bed if we stand idling thus." 
 
 75 Upon this the weights, who had never been accused of 
 light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to 
 proceed ; when, as with one consent, the wheels began to 
 turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to 
 swing, and to its credit, ticked as loud as ever ; while a 
 
 80 red beam of the rising sun that streamed through a hole 
 in the kitchen, shining full upon the dial-plate, it bright- 
 ened up, as if nothing had been the matter. 
 
 When the farmer came down to breakfast that morning, 
 upon looking at the clock, he declared that his watch had 
 
 85 gained half an hour in the night. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 A celebrated modern writer says, " Take care of the 
 minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves."
 
 ii. [Ex. 121, 
 
 This is an admirable remark, and might be very season- 
 abl ''! hen we begin to be "weary in well- 
 
 90 doing," from the thought of having much to do. The 
 present moment is all . with in any sense ; 
 
 the j>;i>t i- irrecoverable, tin- future is uncertain; nor is 
 it fair to buni .incut with tin? weight of the next. 
 
 Sufficient unto the //.< trouble thereof. If we 
 
 95 had to walk a hundred in mid still have to set 
 
 but one step at .1 tune, and this process continued, would 
 infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue gCtte- 
 rally begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a 
 ininir< 
 
 100 Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect 
 that we ha\e n.t to sustain all its toil, to endure all its 
 unter all its crosses at once. One mo- 
 ment comes laden with its own little burdens, then flies, 
 and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last : 
 
 105 if one could be borne, so can another and another. 
 
 It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, 
 merely becau 'hat when to-morrow comes, 
 
 then will be now. Thus life passes with many, in reso- 
 lutions for the future, which the pi -r fulfills. 
 
 110 It is not thus with those, who, " by patient continuance 
 in well-doing, seek for glory, honor, and immortality." 
 Day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appoint- 
 ed task, to which the requisite measure ,,f time and 
 strength is proportioned ; and thus, having worked while 
 
 116 it was called day, they at length rest from their labors, 
 and their works us then, "whatever 
 
 our hands find to do, do it with all our might, recollect- 
 ing that now is the proper and accepted time." 
 
 .ItCISF. 1-,-J. 
 Valedictory Hymn. N. ADAMS. 
 
 i by the Senior Cla, t iht rln- <>f thr \nnlven*ry Bxetcbei la the Theo- 
 logical Seiiiimuy. Andovrr. .Sept 189B. 
 
 1 Beautiful upon the mountains 
 
 Are the messengers of peace, 
 Publishing the news of pardon, 
 Through a Savior's righteousness; 
 
 il tidings 
 Of a Savior's righteousness ;
 
 Ex. 122, 123.] KXERCISES. PART ii. 293 
 
 2 Hark ! the voice of Jesus, calling, 
 
 " Heralds of my Cross, arise ! 
 Go, and publish news of pardon, 
 
 See ! a world in ruin lies. 
 
 Preach salvation, 
 Till I call you to the skies." 
 
 3 Jesus, we obey thy summons, 
 
 See thy servants waiting stand ; 
 When our song of praise is ended, 
 
 We will go at thy command. 
 
 Great Redeemer ! 
 Guide us by thine own right hand. 
 
 4 Scenes of love and sacred friendship, 
 
 We will bid you all farewell ; 
 O'er the earth's wide face we wander, 
 
 News of Jesus' love to tell. 
 
 We forever 
 Now must part, and say, Farewell. 
 
 5 Often have we join'd these voices, 
 
 In our songs of social praise, 
 And around our altar bending, 
 
 Prayer at morn and evening raised. 
 
 We shall never 
 Here again unite in praise. 
 
 6 Brethren, may we meet together 
 
 On the mount of God above ; 
 Then our rapturous hosannas 
 
 Will be full of Jesus' love. 
 
 Savior, bring us 
 Safely to thy home above. 
 
 EXERCISE 123. 
 Scene from Pizarro Pizarro and Gomez. KOTZEBUS. 
 
 Piz. How now, Gomez, what bringest thou ? 
 
 Gom. On yonder hill, among the palm trees, we have sur- 
 prised an old Peruvian. Escape by flight he could not, and 
 we seized him unresisting.
 
 U91 EXERCISES. PART II. [Hx. 128 
 
 Pi:. Drag him before us. \Qomez leads in Orozfmbo.] 
 Who art thou, stranger '.' 
 
 Oro. First tell me who is the captain of this band of 
 robbers. 
 
 Audacious! This insolence has lealed thy doom. 
 Die thou shalt, gray-headed ruffian. But first confess what 
 thou knowest. 
 
 Oro. I know that which thou hast just assured me of, that 
 1 shall die. 
 
 Piz. Less audacity might have preserved thy life. 
 
 Oro. My life is as a withered tree, nut worth presening. 
 
 Piz. Hear me, old man. Even nown-e march against the 
 Peruvian army. We know there is a sei-n-t path that leads 
 to your stronghold among the rocks. Guide us to that, and 
 name thy reward. If wealth be thy wUh 
 
 Oro. Ha, ha, ha! 
 
 Piz. Dost thou despise my offer? 
 
 Oro. Yes, thee and thy offer ! Wealth ! I have the 
 wealth of two gallant sons. I have stored in heaven the 
 riches which repay good actions here ! and still mychiefest 
 treasure do I wear about me. 
 
 Piz. What is that? Inform me. 
 
 Oro. I will, for thou canst in \<r tear it from me. An 
 unsullied conscience. 
 
 Piz. I believe there is no other Peruvian who dares speak 
 as thou dost. 
 
 Oro. Would I could believe there is no other Spaniard 
 who dares act as thou dost. 
 
 Oom. Obdurate Pagan ! how numerous is your army ? 
 
 Oro. Count the leaves of the forest. 
 
 Oom. Which is the weakest part of your camp ? 
 
 Oro. It is fortified on all sides by ju^ 
 
 Gom. Where have you and chil- 
 
 dren? 
 
 Oro. In the hearts of their husl.aiid* and fathers. 
 
 Piz. thou Alonzo? 
 
 Oro. Know him ! Alonzo ! Our nation's benefactor, the 
 guardian angel of ]' 
 
 . By what has he merited that title ? 
 
 Oro. By not resembling thee. 
 
 Who is this Holla, joined with Alonzo in com- 
 mand ? 
 
 I will answer that, for I ln\? tn aj*k the hero'g
 
 Ex. 123.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 295 
 
 name. Holla, the kinsman of the king, is the idol of our 
 army. In war a tiger, in peace a lamb. Cora was once be- 
 trothed to him, but finding she preferred Alonzo, he resigned 
 his claim for Cora's happiness. 
 
 Piz. Romantic savage ! I shall meet this Rolla soon. 
 
 Oro. Thou hadst better not ! the terrors of his noble eye 
 would strike thee dead. 
 
 Gom. Silence, or tremble ! 
 
 Oro. Beardless robber ! I never yet have le'arned to trem- 
 ble before man Why before thee, thou less than man ! 
 
 Gom. Another word, audacious heathen, and I strike ! 
 
 Oro. Strike, Christian ! then boast among thy fellows, " I 
 -too, have murdered a Peruvian." 
 
 Second Scene. Sentinel, Rolla, and Alonzo. KOTZEBUE. 
 [Enter Rolla disguised as a monk.] 
 
 Rolla. Inform me, friend, is Alonzo, the Peruvian, confined 
 in this dungeon ? 
 
 Sent. He is. 
 
 Rolla. I must speak with him. 
 
 Sent. You must not. 
 
 Rolla. He is my friend. 
 
 Sent. Not if he were your brother. 
 
 Rolla. What is to be his fate ? 
 
 Sent. He dies at sunrise. 
 
 Rolla. Ha ! then I am come in time 
 
 Sent. Just to witness his death. 
 
 Rolla. [Advancing towards the door.] Soldier I must 
 speak with him. 
 
 Sent. [Pushing him back with his gun] Back ! back ! it 
 is impossible. 
 
 Rolla. I do entreat you but for one moment. 
 
 Sent. You entreat in vain my orders are most strict. 
 
 Rolla. Look on this wedge of massy gold ! Look on these 
 precious gems. In thy land they will be wealth for thee and 
 thine, beyond thy hope or wish. Take them, they are thine, 
 let me but pass one moment with Alonzo. 
 
 Sent. Away ! Wouldst thou corrupt me ? Me, an old Cas- 
 tilian ! 1 know my duty better. 
 
 Rolla. Soldier ! hast thou a wife ? 
 
 Sent. I have.
 
 EXtRCiSKS. FAT if. 
 
 Rol 
 
 Sent. Four, 1. . ly boys. 
 
 . 
 
 Rolla. Wliere didst lhu l<-;i\e ti.' 
 
 Sent. In my native \illage. in the very cut where I WM 
 born. 
 
 Rolla. Dost thou /oct thy \\ife and childi' 
 
 Sent. Do I love them ! God knows my heart, 1 do. 
 
 Holla. Soldier! Imagine thou \\ert d die a cruel 
 
 death in a simnge land What would be thy lust rei|i, 
 
 Sent. That some of my con my dying 
 
 blequn^ to my \\ if<- and children. 
 
 '. Wliat if tliat eomni'! iliy prison door, and 
 
 should there be told, thy fellow soldier die* at Minn 
 thou shall not for a moment see him, nor shall thou hear his 
 Messing to his poor children, or his wretched wife 
 what wouldst thou think of him u ho thus could drive thy 
 comrade from the door? 
 
 Sent. How? 
 
 Rolla. Alonzo has a wife and child ; and I am come but to 
 receive for her, and for her poor babe, the last blessing of roj 
 friend. 
 
 Sent. Go in. [Exit Sentinel.] 
 
 Rolla. [Calls.] Alonzo! Alonzo! 
 
 [Entir . I /><:", si>ik'<n<j as he comet in.] 
 
 Alon. How ! is my hour elapsed ? Well, I am ready. 
 Rolla. Alonzo, - know me! 
 
 Alon. Rolla! Rolla.' how didst th i guorrf/ 
 
 Rolla. There is not a moment to l>e lo-t in words. This 
 e I tore from the dead liody of ;i friar, as I passed our 
 field of battle. It has gained me entrance to thy dungeon ; 
 DOW take it thou. and tly. 
 \nd Holla - 
 
 Will remain here in thy | 
 Aln,,. And <//V for me ' .V" ' Kather etmal tortures rack 
 me. 
 
 /. I -hall not die, Alon/.o. It i- //,,///'/"<> pj/ 
 
 . and thy arm m:iy soon deh\er me from i 
 Or, should it lie otherv. i-e. 1 :iin ti the 
 
 . notliii)L r : ait a hus 
 
 band nd a fall. 
 
 infant depend upon thy 1, > sav 
 
 thyself, but ("'orn. nd thv rhilrl
 
 Ex. 123, 124.] EXERCISES. PART IF. 297 
 
 Alon. Urge me not thus, my friend I am prepared to die 
 in peace. 
 
 Rolla. To die in peace ! devoting her you have sworn to 
 live for, to madness, misery, and death ! 
 
 Alon. Merciful heavens ! 
 
 Holla. If thou art yet irresolute, Alonzo now mark me 
 well. Thou knowest that Rolla never pledged his word and 
 shrunk from its fulfillment. Know then, if thou art proudly 
 obstinate, thou shalt have the desperate triumph of seeing 
 Rolla perish by thy side. 
 
 Alon. Rolla ! you distract me ! Wear you the robe, 
 and though dreadful the necessity, we will strike down the 
 guard, and force our passage. 
 
 JRolla. What, the soldier on duty here ? 
 
 Alon. Yes, else seeing two, the alarm will be instant 
 death. 
 
 Rolla. For my nation's safety, I would not harm him. 
 That soldier, mark me, is a man ! All are not men that wear 
 the human form. He refused my prayers, refused my gold, 
 denying to admit till his own feelings bribed him. I will 
 not risk a hair of that man's head, to save my heart-strings 
 from consuming fire. But haste ! A moment's further 
 pause and all is lost. 
 
 Alon. Rolla, I fear thy friendship drives me from honor 
 'and from right. 
 
 Rolla. Did Rolla ever counsel dishonor to his friend? 
 [Throwing the friar s garment over his shoulders.] There, 
 conceal thy face Now God be with thee. 
 
 EXERCISE 124. 
 
 God. Translated from a Russian Ode by DKRZHANIR. 
 
 L O Thou Eternal One ! whose presence bright, 
 All space doth occupy, all motion guide ; 
 Unchanged through time's all devastating flight, 
 Thou only God ! There is no God beside. 
 Being above all beings ! Mighty One ! 
 Whom none can comprehend, and none explore, 
 Who fill'st existence with thyself alone ; 
 Embracing all supporting ruling o'er 
 Being whom we call God and know no more ! 
 
 IS*
 
 8 BXHRCISE8. FART II. [Ex. 124. 
 
 2 A million torches lighted by thy hand, 
 Wander unwearied through the blue abyss; 
 
 own thy power, accomplish thy command, 
 All gay with lite, all eloquent with bliss: 
 What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light ? 
 
 glorious company of golden streams ? 
 I .mips of celestial ether, burning bright ? 
 Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams ? 
 l)ui thou to these art as the noon to night. 
 
 ;} Yes ! as a drop of water in the sea, 
 All this magnificence is lost in thee : 
 What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee ? 
 And what am J, then ? Heaven's unnumber'd host, 
 Though multiplied l>y myriads, and array'd 
 In all the glory of sublimest thought, 
 Is but an atom in the balance weigh'd 
 Against thy greatness Is a cipher brought 
 Against infinity ! what am / then ? Nought ! 
 
 4 Nought ? But the effluence of thy light divine, 
 Pervading worlds, hath reach'd my bosom too; 
 
 > t es, in my spirit doth thy Spirit shine, 
 
 As shines tin- sunbeam in a drop of dew. 
 
 Nought ? But I live, and on hope's pinions 8y 
 
 Eager towards thy presence ; for in thee 
 
 I live, and breathe, and dwell ; aspiring high, 
 
 Even to the throne of thy Divinity. 
 
 I am, O God, and surely thou must be ! 
 
 5 Thou art ! directing, guiding, all. Thou art ! 
 Direct my understanding then to thee ; 
 Control my spiiit, ;;uide my wandering heart; 
 Though but an atom 'midst immensity. 
 
 Still 1 am something I'ashion'd by thy hand ' 
 I hold a middle rank. 'I\M\I heaven and earth, 
 On the last veri,'e of bein^ >tand, 
 Tic--, f the realm where angels have their birth, 
 Just on the boundary of the spirit land '
 
 Ex. 125.] EXERCISES. PART II. 299 
 
 EXERCISE 125. 
 The Dead Sea. CROLY. 
 
 1 The wind blows chill across those gloomy waves ; 
 
 Oh ! how unlike the green and dancing main ! 
 The surge is foul, as if it roll'd o'er graves ; 
 Stranger, here lie the cities of the plain. 
 
 2 Yes, on that plain, by wild waves cover'd now, 
 
 Rose palace once, and sparkling pinnacle ; 
 On pomp and spectacle beam'd morning's glow, 
 On pomp and festival the twilight fell. 
 
 3 Lovely and splendid all, but Sodom's soul 
 
 Was stain'd with blood, and pride, and perjury ; 
 Long warn'd, long spared, till her whole heart was foul, 
 And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh. 
 
 4 And still she mock'd, and danced, and, taunting spoke 
 
 Her sportive blasphemies against the Throne ; 
 It came ! the thunder on her slumber broke : 
 
 God spake the word of wrath ! Her dream was done. 
 
 5 Yet, in her final night, amid her stood 
 
 Immortal messengers ; and pausing Heaven, 
 Pleaded with man, but she was quite imbued, 
 Her last hour waned, she scorn'd to be forgiven ! 
 
 6 'Twas done ! Down pour'd at once the sulph'rous show'r, 
 
 Down stoop'd, in flame, the heaven's red canopy. 
 Oh ! for the arm of God, in that fierce hour ! 
 'Twas vain, nor help of God or man was nigh. 
 
 7 They rush, they bound, they howl, the men of sin ; 
 
 Still stoop'd the cloud, still burst the thicker blaze ; 
 The earthquake heaved ! Then sank the hideous din : 
 Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays. 
 
 8 PARIS ! thy soul is deeper dyed with blood, 
 
 And long, and blasphemous, has been thy day ; 
 And PARIS ! it were well for thee that flood, 
 Or fire, could cleanse thy damning stains away-
 
 300 KXXBCUK0. FA*T II. [Ex. 
 
 r.xr.urisr: 126. 
 
 
 
 New Missionary Hymn. 
 
 S.F SMITH. Tbologkl Stodaat, Aatom. 
 
 1 Yes, my native land, I love thee. 
 
 All thy scenes I love them well ; 
 
 rids, connections, happy country : 
 Can I bid you all farewell ? 
 
 Can I leave you 
 Far in heathen lands to dwell ? 
 
 2 Home ! thy joys are passing lovely ; 
 
 Joys no stranger-heart can tell f 
 Happy home ! indeed I love thee. 
 
 Can I can I say Farewell? 
 
 Can I leave thee 
 Far in heathen lands to dwell ? 
 
 3 Scenes of sacred peace and pleasure. 
 
 Holy days and Sabbath bell, 
 Richest, brightest, sweetest treasure ! 
 
 Can I say a last farewell ? 
 
 Can I leave you 
 Far in heathen lands to dwell '.' 
 
 4 Yes ! I hasten from you gladly, 
 
 From the scenes I loved so well ! 
 Far away, ye billows, bear me ; 
 
 Lovely native land, farewell ! 
 
 Pleased I leave thee 
 Far in heathen lands to dwell. 
 
 A In the deserts let me labor. 
 
 On the mountains let me tell, 
 How he died the blessed Savior 
 To redeem a world from hell ' 
 
 Let me hasten, 
 Far in heathen lands to dwell. 
 
 Bear me on, thou restless ocean, 
 
 Let the winds the canvas swell 
 Heaves my heart with warm emotion, 
 \Vhilc 1 go far hence to dwell. 
 
 Glad f bid thee, 
 Vative land ' FANKWBU.
 
 Ex. 127.] EXERCISES. PART II. 801 
 
 EXERCISE 127. 
 Tlie Valley of Jehoshaphat. CHATEAUBRIAND. 
 
 The Valley of Jehoshaphat has in all ages served as 
 the burying-place to Jerusalem : you meet there, side by 
 side, monuments of the most distant times and of the 
 present century. The Jews still come there to die, from 
 5 all the corners of the earth. A stranger sells to them, 
 for almost its weight in gold, the land which contains the 
 bones of their fathers. Solomon planted that valley : the 
 shadow of the Temple by which it was overhung the 
 torrent, called after grief, which traversed it the Psalms 
 
 10 which David there composed the Lamentations of Jere- 
 miah, which its rocks re-echoed, render it the fitting 
 abode of the tomb. Jesus Christ commenced his Passion 
 in the same place : that innocent David there shed, for 
 the expiation of our sins, those tears which the guilty 
 
 15 David let fall for his own transgressions. Few names 
 awaken in our minds recollections so solemn as the Valley 
 of Jehoshaphat. It is so full of mysteries, that, according 
 to the Prophet Joel, all mankind will be assembled there 
 before the Eternal Judge. 
 
 20 The aspect of this celebrated valley is desolate ; the 
 western side is bounded by a ridge of lofty rocks which 
 support the walls of Jerusalem, above which the towers 
 of the city appear. The eastern is formed by the Mount 
 of Olives, and another eminence called the Mount of Scan- 
 
 25 dal, from the idolatry of Solomon. These two moun- 
 tains, which adjoin each other, are almost bare, and of a 
 red and sombre hue ; on their desert side you see here 
 and there some black and withered vineyards, some wild 
 olives, some ploughed land, covered with hyssop, and a 
 
 30 few ruined chapels. At the bottom of the valley, you 
 perceive a torrent, traversed by a single arch, which 
 appears of great antiquity. The stones of the Jewish 
 cemetery appear like a mass of ruins at the foot of the 
 mountain of Scandal, under the village of Siloam. You 
 
 35 can hardly distinguish the buildings of the village from 
 the ruins with which they are surrounded. Three ancient 
 monuments are particularly conspicuous ; those of Zacha- 
 riah, Josaphat, and Absalom. The sadness of Jerusalem, 
 from which no smoke ascends, and in which no sound is
 
 302 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 127, 12S. 
 
 40 to be heard ; the solitude of the surrounding mountains, 
 where not a living creature is to be seen ; the disorder 
 of those tombs, ruim-d, ransacked, and half exposed to 
 view, would almost induce one to believe that the last 
 trump had been heard, and that the dead were about to 
 
 45 rise in the Valley of Jchoshaphut. 
 
 EXERCISE 128. 
 Roderick in Battle. SOUTHEY. 
 Count Julian's soldiers and the Austrian host 
 Set up a shout, a joyful shout,' which rung 
 Wide through the welkin. Their exulting cry 
 With louder acclamation was renew'd, 
 5 When from the expiring miscreant's neck they saw 
 That Roderick took the shield, and round his own 
 Hung it, and vaulted in the seat. My horse ! 
 My noble horse ! he cried, with flattering hand 
 Patting his high-arch'd neck ! the renegade 
 
 10 I thank him for't hath kept thee daintily ! 
 Orelio, thou art in thy beauty still, 
 Thy pride and strength ! Orelio, my good horse, 
 Once more thou bearest to the field thy lord, 
 He who so oft hath fed and cherish'd thee, 
 
 15 He for whose sake, wherever thou wert seen, 
 Thou wert by all men honor'd. Once again 
 Thou hast thy proper master ! Do thy part 
 As thou wert wont ; and bear him gloriously, 
 My beautiful Orelio, to the last 
 
 20 The happiest cf his lir'ds ! Then he drew forth 
 The cimiter, and, waving it aloft, 
 Rode toward tin* troops ; its unaccustomed shape 
 Disliked him. Rem-gadi- in all things! cried 
 The Goth, and <-ast h from him ; to the chiefs 
 
 25 Then said, If I havi- done yc sen-ice here, 
 Help me, I pray you. to a Spanish sword! 
 The trustiest blade that t-Vr in Hilhilis 
 Was dipp'd, would not to-day be nu>l>fstowed 
 On this right hand ! (Jo, some one, (iunderick cried, 
 
 30 And bring Count Julian's sword. Whoe'er thou art, 
 Tin- worth which thou hast shown him 
 
 Entitles thee to wear it. But thou goest 
 For buttle nnequipp'd haste there, and strip
 
 Ex. 128.] EXERCISES. PART II. 303 
 
 Yon villain of his armor ! Late he spake, 
 35 So fast the Moors came on. It matters not, 
 
 Replied the Goth ; there's many a mountaineer, 
 
 Who in no beter armor cased this day 
 
 Than his wonted leathern gipion, will be found 
 
 In the hottest battle, yet bring off untouch'd 
 40 The unguarded life he ventures. Taking then 
 
 Count Julian's sword, he fitted round his wrist 
 
 The chain, and eyeing the elaborate steel 
 
 With stern regard of joy The African 
 
 Under unhappy stars was born, he cried, 
 45 Who tastes thy edge ! Make ready for the charge ! 
 
 They come they come ! On, brethren, to the field ! 
 
 The word is, Vengeance ! 
 
 Vengeance was the word ; 
 
 From man to man, and rank to rank it pass'd, 
 50 By every heart enforced, by every voice 
 
 Sent forth in loud defiance of the foe. 
 
 The enemy in shriller sounds return'd 
 
 Their Akbar and the prophet's trusted name. 
 
 The horsemen lower'd their spears, the infantry, 
 55 Deliberately, with slow and steady step, 
 
 Advanced ; the bow-strings twang'd, and arrows hiss'd, 
 
 And javelins hurtled by. Anon the hosts 
 
 Met in the shock of battle, horse and man 
 
 Conflicting ; shield struck shield, and sword and mace, 
 60 And curtle-axe on helm and buckler rung ; 
 
 Armor was riven, and wounds were interchanged, 
 
 And many a spirit from its mortal hold 
 
 Hurried to bliss or bale. Well did the chiefs 
 
 Of Julian's army in that hour support 
 65 Their old esteem ; and Avell Count Pedro there 
 
 Enhanced his former praise ; and by his side, 
 
 Rejoicing like a bridegroom in the strife, 
 
 Alphonso through the host of infidels 
 
 Bore on his bloody lance dismay and death. 
 70 But there was worst confusion and uproar, 
 
 There widest slaughter and dismay, where, proud 
 
 Of his recover'd lord, Orelio plunged 
 
 Through thickest ranks, trampling beneath his feet 
 
 The living and the dead. Where'er he turns, 
 75 The Moors divide and fly. What man is this, 
 
 Appall'd they say, who to the front of war
 
 304 EXERCISES. PART II. [Ex. 1*28, 120. 
 
 Bareheaded offers thus his naked life ? 
 Replete with power he is, and terrible, 
 Like some destroying angel ! Sure his lips 
 
 80 Have drunk of Kaf's dark fountain, and he comet 
 Strong ia his immortality ! Fly ! Hv ! 
 They said ; thi.s i.s no human toe ! Nor less 
 Of wonder fill'd the Spaniards when they saw 
 How flight and terror went before his way, 
 
 85 And slaughter in his path. Behold, cries one, 
 With what command and knightly ease he sits 
 The intrepid steed, and deals from side to side 
 His dreudful bl<>\\>! \t Roderick in his power 
 Bestrode with such command and majesty 
 
 90 That noble war-horse. His loose robe this day 
 Is death's bluck banner, shaking from its folds 
 Dismay and ruin. Of no mortal mold 
 Is he who in that garb of peace affronts 
 Whole hosts, and sees them scatter where he turns ! 
 
 95 Auspicious Heaven beholds us, and some saint 
 Revisits earth ! 
 
 EXERCISE 129. 
 Niagara. SIOOURSKV. 
 
 Flow on, forever, in thy glorious robe 
 Of terror and of beauty. Yea, flow on 
 Unfathom'd and resistless. God hath set 
 \l\-~ rainbow on thy forehead : and the cloud 
 6 Mantled around thy feet. And he doth give 
 Thy voice of thunder, power to speak of Him 
 Eternally bidding the lip of man 
 Keep silence and upon ihy rooky altar pour 
 Incense of awe-struck prat-..'. Ah! who can dare 
 
 10 To lift lh<- insert trump of earthly hope, 
 Or love, or sorrow 'mid the peal sublime 
 Of thy tremendous hymn .' Kven ocean shrinks 
 Hack from thy brotherhood : and all his waves 
 Retire aba-h'd. For he doth sometimes seem 
 
 15 To sleep like a spent laborer and recall 
 ili> v.. u led billows from their vexing play, 
 And lull them to a cradle calm : but thou. 
 With .-verlaslinif. underaviiiir '"'''
 
 Ex. 129, 130.J KXLRCISKS. PART II. 305 
 
 Dost rest not, night or day. The morning stars, 
 
 20 When first they sang o'er young creation's birth, 
 Heard thy deep anthem ; and those wrecking fires, 
 That wait the archangel's signal to dissolve 
 This solid earth, shall find JKHOVAH'S name 
 Graven, as with a thousand diamond spears, 
 
 25 Of thine unending volume. Every leaf, 
 That lifts itself within thy wide domain, 
 Doth gather greenness from thy living spray, 
 Yet trembles at the baptism. Lo ! you birds 
 Do boldly venture near, and bathe their wing 
 
 30 Amid thy mist and foam. 'Tis meet for them 
 To toucli thy garment's hem, and lightly stir 
 The snowy leaflets of thy vapor-wreath, 
 For they may sport unharm'd amid the cloud, 
 Or listen at the echoing gate of heaven, 
 
 35 Without reproof. But as for us, it seems 
 
 Scarce lawful, with our broken tones, to speak 
 Familiarly of thee. Methinks, to tint 
 Thy glorious features with our pencil's point, 
 Or woo thee to the tablet of a song, 
 
 40 Were profanation. Thou dost make the soul 
 A wondering witness of thy majesty, 
 But as it presses with delirious joy 
 To pierce thy vestibule, dost chain its step, 
 And tame its rapture, with the humbling view 
 
 45 Of its own nothingness, bidding it stand 
 In the dread presence of the Invisible, 
 As if to answer to its GOD through thee. 
 
 EXERCISE 130. 
 On a very old Wedding Ring. GEORGE W. DOANE, L. L. D. 
 
 1 I like that ring that ancient, ring, 
 
 Of massive form, and virgin gold, 
 As firm, as free from base alloy, 
 
 As were the sterling hearts of old. 
 I like it for it wafts me back, 
 
 Far, far along the stream of time, 
 To other men, and other days, 
 
 The men and days of deeds sublime.
 
 MOO RCMSE8. PART II. [Ex. l.'JO 
 
 2 But most I like it, a> it tolls. 
 
 The tale of well-re^uit 
 How youthful forulne. 
 
 And youthful ; ..n'd t-i ive 
 
 How warmly he hi> suit proferr'd. 
 
 Though she, unpityinLf, lung denied, 
 Till, soften'd and subdued, at last, 
 
 He won his "lair and blooming bride." 
 
 3 How, till the appointed hour arrived, 
 
 They blamed the lazy-footed hours 
 How, then, the white-robed maiden train 
 
 Strew'd their glad way with freshest flowers 
 And how, before tin- holy man, 
 
 They stood, in all their youthful pride, 
 And spoke those words, and vow'd those vowa, 
 
 Which bind the husband to his bride: 
 
 4 All this it tells; the plighted troth 
 
 The gift of every earthly thing 
 The hand in hand the heart in heart 
 
 For this I like that ancient ring. 
 I like its old and quaint device; 
 
 Two bli-iiiied hearN" though time may wear them, 
 No mortal change, no mortal chance, 
 
 " Till death," shall e'er in sunder tear them. 
 
 5 Year after year, 'neath sun and storm, 
 
 Their hopes in heaven, their trust in GOD, 
 
 In cl. holy love, 
 
 e two the world's rough pathway trod. 
 Age might impair their youthful fires, 
 
 Their Mrength might fail, 'mid life's bleak weather, 
 Still, hand in hand, they travel'd on 
 
 Kind souls, they slutnher now together. 
 
 6 I like its simple poesy too : 
 
 "Mine own dear love this heart is thine!" 
 Thine, when the dark storm howls al- 
 
 As when the cloudless sunbeams s. 
 " This heart is thine, mine own dear love !" 
 
 Thine, and thin* onlv, nnd forever;
 
 Ex. 181, 132.] EXERCISES. PART ii. 307 
 
 Thine, till the springs of life shall fail, 
 Thine, till the cords of life shall sever." 
 
 7 Remnant of days departed long, 
 
 Emblem of plighted troth unbroken, 
 Pledge of devoted faithfulness, 
 
 Of heartfelt holy love the token ; 
 What varied feelings round it cling ! 
 For these I like that ancient ring. 
 
 EXERCISE 131. 
 The Nativity. TAPPAN. 
 
 1 Judea's plains in silence sleep 
 
 Beneath the cloudless midnight sky, 
 And o'er their flocks the shepherds keep 
 
 Kind watch, to David's city nigh : 
 That royal city ! nobler Guest 
 
 Is she awhile to entertain, 
 Than proudest monarch, whose behest 
 
 It is o'er earthly realms to reign. 
 By Him salvation is to mortals given, 
 On Earth is shed the peerless noon of Heaven. 
 
 2 For see ! along the deep blue arch 
 
 A glory breaks ; and now a throng 
 From where the sparkling planets march, 
 
 Comes trooping down with shout and song ; 
 And o'er those pastures, bathed in light, 
 
 The sacred legions stay their wing, 
 While on the wakeful ear of night 
 
 Steals the rich hymn that Seraphs sing. 
 And sweetly thus the mellow accents ran, 
 " Glory to God, Good Will and Peace to Man !" 
 
 EXERCISE 132. 
 Christmas Hymn. HEBER. 
 1 Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 
 
 Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine aid ! 
 Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
 Guide whore mir infant Redeemer is laid '
 
 EXEKCI9JCS. - FART II. [El. I'M. 1S3. 
 
 2 Cold on I i -tuning, 
 
 Low lies his head with the beasts of the stall ; 
 Angels adore Hiin in Clumber reclining, 
 Maker and Monarch and Suvior of all ! 
 
 3 Say, shall we yield Him. 
 
 Odors of Edoni, ami offering di\ 
 Gems of the mountain and pearls of the ocean, 
 Myrrh from tlu- fon-j-t ur gold from tlie in; 
 
 4. Vainly we offer each ample oblation; 
 
 Vainly with gifts would His favor secure : 
 Richer by far is the In-,.. ;on ; 
 
 Deai I are the prayer* of the poor. 
 
 5 Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! 
 
 Dawn on our darkness and lend us Thine 
 Star of the Ea-st, the horizon adorning, 
 (Juide where our infant Redeemer is laid. 
 
 133. 
 Thou art gone to the Grave. HEBER. 
 
 1 Thou art gone to the grave ! but we will not deplore thee. 
 
 Though sorrows and darkne>s nirompass the tomb ; 
 Thy Savior has pa-s'd through its portals In-fore tin-.-. 
 
 1 the lamp of His ! aid- ihrou^h the gloom ! 
 
 2 Thou :u Ix-hold thee, 
 
 Nor tread tin- pm-h path of the World by thy side; 
 But the wid- am. spread to infold thee, 
 
 And sinners may il 
 
 3 Thou ar - mansion forsaking, 
 
 ari'-r thy weak ^|>irit in fear lin^er'd ! 
 
 iild rays of I'.r .-n'd on thy \v,i 
 
 And the sound which thoii ln-ard-t wa^ the-. 
 song ! 
 
 \\- will not deplor> 
 
 Who.se ' rdian and \r\mlc ; 
 
 He $: 
 
 And death has no t-tin:;. f'-r ihe Sa\ior has died !
 
 APPENDIX, 
 
 THE reader, that he may understand the design of this Appendix, is 
 requested to turn back to page 52, and review with care all the remarks 
 that are made under the head of Quantity. Few persons are aware to 
 what extent the power of any tolerable voice may be increased, by the 
 habit of a slow, clear, distinct enunciation To acquire this habit, the 
 pupil must accustom himself, by efforts often repeated, to fill, and swell, 
 and prolong the open vowels. This may be done by uttering the simple 
 elementary sounds, a, c, &c., with great stress. But as vocal sounds are 
 intended to convey thoughts, and these single elements signify nothing of 
 themselves, the pupil is reluctant to exert his voice upon them, with suf- 
 ficient strength to answer the purpose. The different sounds of a as heard 
 in fate, far, war, he can utter, but to do it with his voice at full stretch is 
 unnatural ; it seems to him more like barking, or bleating, than like elo- 
 cution. Whereas, let the sound to be made, be part of a word, and that 
 word, part of a sentence, meaning something that ought to be uttered, in 
 a loud,fuU note, and the difficulty is surmounted with comparative ease. 
 
 To accomplish this, is the purpose of the following examples. In pro- 
 nouncing them, the reader will remember that they are generally taken 
 from the language of military command ; and from other cases in which 
 the persons addressed are supposed to be at some distance from the 
 speaker. The words printed in Italic, contain the vowel sounds on which 
 the stress and quantity are to be laid. Imagine yourself to be speaking 
 these words to those who are five or ten rods from you, and you will 
 unavoidably acquire the habit of dwelling on the vowel with a slow, 
 strong note. 
 
 The sounds most favorable to the object of this exercise are those of 
 
 a in fate 
 
 a in hark 
 
 a in fall 
 
 a or ai in fair or air 
 
 e in me. 
 
 e in men 
 
 i in rise 
 
 o in go 
 
 o in move 
 
 o in for 
 
 u in tube 
 
 u in turn 
 
 ffi in noise 
 
 mi in loud. 
 
 The selections are arranged promiscuously, several of the vowel sound* 
 sometimes occurring in the same example.
 
 310 MTKNDIX. 
 
 1 : X A M P L E S . 
 
 1. Then take defiance, death, and mortal tear. 
 
 2. Haste f to his ear the glad report convey. 
 
 3. Stretch to the race! A wit;/ .' Away. 
 
 4. Let what I will, be fate. 
 
 5. Sdlyman f regardless chief! Airake. 
 
 6. Come, mighty Monarch, haste! the fortress gain. 
 
 7. Wherefore, O Warrior*! make your promise vain? 
 
 8. Conquest awaits you. Stizt the glorious prize. 
 
 9. "Haste ! let us storm the gates,'' he said, and flew. 
 
 10. The cry was" Tidings f from the hfat, 
 " Of weight A messenger comes post." 
 
 11. Arm, valiant chief! F<>r/i//A< prepare. 
 
 12. " To arms! To arms!" a thousand voices cried. 
 
 13. " Fortear! The field is mj;w," he cries. 
 
 14. " Who dares to fly from yonder swords," he cries. 
 " Who dares to tremble, by this weapon dies" 
 
 15. Stand Bayard ! Stand! the steed obey'd. 
 
 16. To arms! The foemen storm the wall. 
 
 17. Wbr! War! aloud with general voice they cry. 
 
 18. Haste f Pass the sias. Thy flying sails employ ; 
 Fly hence ! Begdne ! 
 
 19. Tis death I siek ; but ere I yield to f . 
 
 I trust to crush thee with my falling weight. 
 
 20. Him by his arms Rambaldo knows, and cries, 
 
 " What seek'st thou here, or whither wouldst thou bead? 
 
 21. cruel Tancred ! ctase! at last relfnt. 
 
 22. " Speed, Malise ! spied /" he loudly cried, 
 " The mustering place is Lanrick mead ; 
 Spied forth the signal, Norman ! Spied f" 
 
 23. Peace! Peace! To other than to me. 
 Thy words are ivil augury.
 
 APPENDIX. 311 
 
 24. Warriors, attend ! survey this bloody sword. 
 
 25. Wde to the traitor ! woe ! 
 
 26. On Bertram, then, he laid his hand, 
 "Should every fiend to whom thou'rt sold 
 Rise in thine aid, I keep my hold. 
 
 Arouse there ! ffd ! take spar and sword ; 
 Attack the murderer of your lord." 
 
 27. " Ye Warriors brave ! attend my words," he said. 
 
 28. With monarch's voice, " Go! and rep&nt" he cried. 
 
 29. Rise ! Rise ! ye Citizens, your gates defend ; 
 Behold the foe at hand. 
 
 30. " Return, ye Warriors !" thus aloud he cried. 
 
 31. Fly Argillan ! behold the mdrning nigh. 
 
 32. " What bring'st thou here ?" she cried. 
 
 " Lo, war and d&ath I bring," the chief replied. 
 
 33. Oh ! burst the bridge, and me" alone expose. 
 
 34. Still, still he breathes ; Our Tancred still survives. 
 
 35. H&nce ! home, you idle creatures ! get you hdme. 
 
 You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless 
 things. 
 
 36. Woe to the wretch who fails to rear, 
 At this dread sign, his ready spear. 
 
 37. " Up ! comrades, up ! in Rokeby's halls, 
 Ne'er be it said our courage falls." 
 
 38. Back ! on your lives, ye menial pack. 
 
 39. Boldly she spake, " Sdldiers, attend ! 
 My father was the soldier's friend." 
 
 40. " Revenge! Revenge!" the Saxons cried. 
 
 41. Malcolm ! comefdrth ! and forth he came. 
 
 42. " On! On!" was still his stern exclaim, 
 " Confrbnt the battery's jaws of flame ! 
 Rush on the level gun ! 
 
 My steel-clad Cuirassiers ! advance ! 
 Each Hulan, foricard /with his lance !
 
 AJM'KVWX. 
 
 My Guard! my chosen, -charge for France, 
 France, and Xapdleon" 
 
 43. " 6 ' stand /irwi." exclaim'd the British chief, 
 1 England shall tell the fight." 
 
 44. The combat deepens, " On, ye brave! 
 Who ru>h to ylory or t: 
 
 45. Biirst^ the storm on Phocis' walls ! 
 Rite /or Greece forever falls. 
 
 46. Yet, though destructi -\\>--r- lovi-lv p 
 Rite! Fellow men ! our country yet remains. 
 
 47. Where was thine arm, O vengeance ? and thy rod, 
 That smote the foes of Zion and of God ? 
 
 48. Angels ! and ministers of Grdcf f defend us ; 
 Save me, and hover o'er me with your u 
 \>- heavenly (iitardt! 
 
 49. " And do you now put on your best attire ? 
 And do you now cull out a holid 
 
 And do you now Bl r.y in his way 
 
 That chinos in triumph ,p< -y 's 1,1" 
 
 Begdnt ! 
 
 50. Av'dunt f Fly thither whence thou fledd'st ; if from this 
 
 hour, 
 
 Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, 
 Back to the infernal pit I drag 
 
 51. And I heard an an^f-1, flying through tin- midst <>f 1 
 
 saying with a loud vo 
 ' \\'<x, tedf, vde, to tho inhabitarr irth." 
 
 it God sni'l untn him, " Thou f6l .' this night thy 
 ou/ shall bo nvjuin-d <>f i! 
 
 53. And he cried and said, " Father Abraham ! Have mtrey 
 upon me."
 
 SANDERS' SERIES 
 
 OF 
 
 SCHOOL BOOKS, 
 
 CONSISTING OF 
 
 SANDERS' PRIMARY SCHOOL PRIMER; 
 SANDERS' PICTORIAL PRIMER; 
 SANDERS' SPELLING BOOK, 168 pages. 
 SANDERS' SCHOOL READER, 1st Book; 120 pages. 
 SANDERS' SCHOOL READER, 2d Book; 180 " 
 SANDERS' SCHOOL READER, 3d Book; 250 " 
 SANDERS' SCHOOL READER, 4th Book; 364 " 
 SANDERS' SCHOOL READER, 5th Book ; (in press.) 
 
 These books constitute the most valuable series ever published a fact 
 fully evinced by the generous patronage which they have received from 
 the Friends of Education throughout the country. More than two mil- 
 lions have been sold, and the demand is increasing. Their leading ad- 
 vantages are as follows: 
 
 1st. The child is taught to read by the use of INTELLIGIBLE WORDS ONLY 
 beginning with the least, as those of two letters, and eradually advan- 
 cing to those of greater length. 
 
 2d. All the words in the first book, or Primer, are learned by the 
 scholar in the spelling lessons, before they meet with them in 'the reading 
 lessons. Also, the difficult words of each reading lesson, in all the Read- 
 ers, are previously formed into spelling lessons. 
 
 3d. In the 3d and 4th Readers, the difficult words are DEFINED in a 
 general and literal sense. 
 
 4th. The Primary books contain more lessons of easy reading than other 
 works there being about NINETY PACKS made up of MONOSYLABLES. 
 
 5th. The PROGRESSION from one book to another, is more regular, grad- 
 ual, and philosophical than usually found. 
 
 6th. The lessons are adapted to INTEREST as well as INSTRUCT. 
 
 7th. The practical and judicious use of PICTURES is calculated to ASSIST, 
 and not retard, the efforts of the teacher. 
 
 8th. The PRACTICAL INSTRUCTIONS in the Rhetorical principles of read- 
 ing and speaking, contained in the 4th Reader, constitute a distinguishing 
 characteristic of the work. 
 
 9th At the end of each lesson for reading, questions are asked, with 
 reference to the proper inflections, emphasis, &c., which should be adopted 
 in reading the lesson with propriety. 
 
 10th. In connection with the questions, are references to the instruc- 
 tions in other parts of the work. 
 
 llth. The PRINT is large and distinct, gradually diminishing from the
 
 SANDERS' SERIES OF SCHOOL BOOKS. 
 
 large print of the Primer to that of the ordinary size, contained in the 4th 
 Kc.idir 
 
 T.'th A greater VARIETY, both in style and subject, is found in this 
 riea than is usual in lunik* of the kind*. 
 
 13th v throughout the series are uni- 
 
 formly in accordance with those of Dr. Webster. 
 
 I Ith. The IS.SIKI i ::.-.- in the s..i M,V and POWER of letters, as well 
 as the "liKNKRM. KILLS ron ' arc more clearly presented in 
 
 " Sanders' Spelling Book," than any other work of the kind. 
 
 The Convention of State and County Superintendent* of School* in 
 Vermont, lii-ld pursuant to adjournment i:. .'|M-lii-r. 
 
 (Vt. 1 1, lNl(i. unanimously ncOQUMOdtd 
 
 BOOK*, consisting of Sander*' spelling i:.M>k, IVton.d <>r I'rimary >chi*>l 
 Primer, and 5 : the uniform adop- 
 
 tion in tin Common Schools of the Slate. Of (hi.- 11 - 
 
 D. M. CAMP was 1'iv ;.l, M. 
 
 From A. S. Lorell, Princijxil of City Ifi^h School, Middleiown , Conn. 
 
 Having carefully examined > in r Si ir>"i. B<K>KS, I most 
 
 cheerfully recommend their general adoption, as I In-lievc them to excel in 
 several respects any scries at present before the public. 
 
 July, !"!.">. A. S. Lov 
 
 Extract from a letter from Rev. Stephen Martindale and Dr. \athaniel 
 
 he*, the CuuTity Committee on Reading Book* fur Rutland Co., \ t 
 To Mr. C. W. Sanders: 
 
 Sir Co:ii[>;irative|y il is but light prawe to say that the lesson* 
 are admirably arranged to give the necessary healthful excrriM- t tin- 
 opening and expanding intellect of the pupil; gradually increasing from 
 <>!' ideas to those that are complex, and by easy grada- 
 progressing to even the initiatory forms of profound rati.* IM.I- 
 tln. all in a elc-;ir. pure, .ui-l .it times even an elevated Style, ill it c.miiot 
 fail to be of essential 84-rvice to | u; d- < grand 
 
 crowning excellmce of this MTI. ~ i- (lie rn-h vein of sound philosophy 
 and truly Christian mor.ility, th.il pervades the whole; unconlaminateJ 
 
 .i- nt th.it McUv p-i lido imit.ition nf < 'hr.ftiani 
 which we ha\e found WHIM- work* of this cl.i*s to U- mil,. 
 and which, under i mask of an outward r< 
 
 pies of our holy nligion. artfully incnlcite the i :i d l>y 
 
 divine i;racr. Is (M-rlictly able to render lilui>e|f all that CIH! mjinres; and 
 
 that, as a necessary . i,^. .|u. ;, . the i ':. 
 
 unnecessary, it, in truth, but a usflcus and burdensoiue form of supen>tj. 
 
 In conclusion, allow us to BUS lire you that it will afford us unalloyed 
 <m, to learn that the public appreciate your works in a 
 with thi ir menu. 
 respectfully and truly yours, 
 
 I MARTINDALC, 
 
 IvtJl. 
 
 Walli,, September 1.^, l
 
 SANDERS' SERIES OF SCHOOL BOOKS. 
 
 F^rom Daniel Egan, Esq., Town Superintendent of Schools, 
 
 WUliamsburg, L. I. 
 Mr. C. W. Sanders: 
 
 Dear sir 1 have examined your School Books, and I take occa- 
 sion very cheerfully to say that they are superior in method and awange- 
 inent to any that I know in use. 
 
 I should like much to see the entire list introduced in all our schools. 
 and from conversation with them, 1 think 1 speak the sentiment of the 
 Teachers attached more particularly to the schools under my charge. 
 I am, dear sir, your obedient servant, 
 
 DANIEL EGAN. 
 
 An extract from a communication to the Board of Trustees and Visitors of 
 the Common Schools, Cincinnati, Ohio, signed by the SE VENTY 
 TEACHERS of that city. 
 
 After examining such reading books as we have had access to, we are of 
 opinion that the Series of Readers, known as Sanders' Series, have merits 
 which highly recommend them to your favorable notice some of which 
 are peculiar. We believe that the important object of gradually progress- 
 ive lessons, both in subjects and language, is more nearly attained in 
 that series than any other with which we are acquainted. 
 
 Signed by SEVENTY TEACHERS, Cincinnati. 
 
 From John Griscom, Town Superintendent of Schools, Burlington, N. J. 
 
 Having carefully looked over the Series of Reading Books for Schools, 
 prepared by Charles W. Sanders, I have no hesitation in regarding them 
 as compilations exceedingly well adapted to promote in our common 
 schools correct and enlightened habits of intonation, inflection, pauses, 
 emphasis, and fluency of utterance. The Spelling and Definitions which 
 precede each lesson, will facilitate the pupil's understanding of the mean- 
 ing of his lessons, and a point of more consequence than all, is, that the 
 lessons are so selected as to imbue his mind with the love and the spirit 
 of Christian morality, and enlightened views of social duty. Without in- 
 stituting a comparison with other books, I think the guardians of youth 
 will hazard nothing in adopting this series of Readers into their schools. 
 
 JOHN GRISCOM. 
 
 Burlington, N. J., 12mo. 18th, 1845. 
 
 SANDERS' FIFTH READER_in Press. 
 
 The repeated and urgent solicitations of Teachers who have used San- 
 ders' Readers, already published, and have expressed their unqualified 
 approbation of their merits, have induced the author to prepare a FIFTH 
 READER which, it is believed, will sustain the reputation acquired by the 
 previous Numbers. 
 
 The work will be ready for the market the ensuing autumn.
 
 MARK 11. NEWMAN * CO 8. PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 MUSIC BOOKS FOR CHOIRS 
 
 THE PSALMODIST. 
 
 By TB.OM.S IU-TI-O.I and W*. B. BKADBCBT. A Cbotc* Collection of Palm and 
 Hymn Tune*, chiefly new adapted to the rery numerous Metre* now in OM; to- 
 gether with Chan ta. Anthems, Motel*, and Tarioos other piece*, for the osw of Choir*, 
 Congregation*, Singing School* aod Marie*] AwoeiattOM, mott of whtrh are now 
 tor the nrst Urn* irmntii to the American public. ZWnffcM edition of 3000 
 each. MS page*- "6 cent*. 
 
 This excellent collection of Church Mane ha* given general satisfaction whmw tt 
 hai been introduced. 
 
 THE NEW YORK CHORALIST. 
 
 By TUOKA.S UASTWCM and WM. B. BKABBCBT. A Vew and Valuable Collection of 
 Tone* in all the Metre*, with an entire new collection of Anthem* and Set Place* 
 for the tue of Choir*, Congregation*, Singing School*, and Musical Boded** ; being 
 one of the moat complete Collections of Hatred Miuie erer pnblkbed. 76 cent*. 
 
 Thu book will be foond to famtn many of the ehoieeX Gem* in -Mmfe. The UIIUB* 
 and in.trurtu.iii are Mhctly proretive. and are &*bioned after the met apMiaJ 
 
 mcihodi ot tearhtnc ; the Anthem* and Set Piecn* arc o( Ihr mo*t intt-roiiu. > 
 
 the PublMhen believe that the whole book is superior to anrthiaf ret given to the Musical 
 
 public. 
 
 THE SOCIAL SINGING BOOK. 
 
 A Collection of Olee*, or Part Song*, Round*, Madrigal*, &c., chiefly from Eu- 
 ropean Composer*, with an Introductory Courne of Elementary Exercise* and Sol- 
 ftffhM, designed lor Singing Classes and School* of Ladle* andOentlemen. .y WM. 
 B. BRADBUKT. 60 evnt*. 
 
 PSALM AND HYMN BOOK FOR CHURCHES. 
 
 THE CHURCH PSALMIST, 
 
 Or Ptalm* and Hymn* for the Public, Social, and Prlrat* UM of Erangelleftl Chris- 
 tian*. Three ilae* 
 
 12mo die, in large type, for the Pulpit and for the aged. 1 00. Thi* ropy con- 
 tain", in addition to the flrat lines of Psalm* and Hymns, a ropkm* Index, con- 
 talnlng the flnt tine* of stanxas, and a complete Key to music*! lpr*s1pa, 
 
 18mo, or middle *|M. 67 cent*. SZroo, or email eta*. 66 ttHtt. 
 
 A Uberal discount, from UMM price*, to mad* to Charehx, making the Church 
 PsalmUt the cheapert Book of the kind in the market. 
 
 two of the OMwral AMevoUr of the Presbyterian Church at their Msete* la IN*. aacatasB 
 
 in i 
 
 hjx WJM^ttLigJ^ -* 
 
 Oflhr IT.-.l,,l,n... .n.-IChurrl..-!. wtuitmtr ..l.,|.|r.l tl.r l...k 
 
 The Hrnueare bound In a *r ( *rate *olume under the title of " The Social 
 Thsj beak i* pecvuarl/ adapuJto UM Cw*r*wae MW&
 
 MARK H. NEWMAN dt CO S. PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 " 1 have examined with some care the ' Manual of Orthography and Definition," prepared 
 by .Mr J. N. McElligott, of this city, and take pleasure in commending it to the t'uvorable 
 consideration of ihe friends of education. 
 
 " There is a fund of good sense, practical wisdom, and useful arrangement in this work, 
 not often combined within the same limits. It will, I am persuaded, greatly facilitate the 
 study of our language ; and teachers, as well as learners, will find cause for thankfulness tn 
 the meritorious author." Hon 'I'/ieo Frelinghuysen, CliancMor qf the. New York Uni 
 varsity. 
 
 " ' Manual, Analytical and Synthetical, of Orthography and Definition,' by J. N. McElli- 
 BOtt, Principal of the Mechanics' Society School, New York Having been for many yean 
 personally acquainted with the author of this book, we were prepared to expect the evi- 
 dences of sedulous industry, sound judgment, and practical skill which its pages exhibit. 
 In his volume will be found not only the completion of the object aimed at, but most im- 
 perfectly reached in Oswald's Etymological Dictionary. To* n's Analysis, and several other 
 works of the kind, but also, such modifications, additions and improvements of the de- 
 sign itself, as cannot fail to render it a far better substitute than any of these, for a knowl- 
 edge of Greek and Latin in the study of English orthography and definition, and a much 
 more serviceable Manual for the teacher in the business of instruction One of the most 
 valuable additions consists in tracing, in a systematic way, the connection between the pri- 
 mary and metaphorical meanings of words, a design hitherto scarcely attempted in 
 school books. The scholar who faithfully studies it, will become critically versed in the 
 formation and comparison of words, and will seldom be in danger of misspelling a deriva- 
 tive, or misunderstanding its proper meaning." Baptist Advocate. 
 
 NEWMAN'S PRACTICAL SYSTEM OF RHETORIC, 
 
 Or the Rules and Principles of Style, inferred from examples of writing, to which is 
 added a Historical Dissertation ou English Style. By SAMUEL P. NEWMAN, Pro- 
 fessor of Rhetoric in Bowdoin College. 312 pages, 12mo, Sheep. 63 cents. 
 
 This Book has been extensively introduced irj{o the schools of this country ; it has also 
 been republished in England, and is in general use in the schools of that country. 
 
 The Plan of the Book is Philosophical and Practical. 
 
 NEWMAN'S ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. 
 
 324 pages, 12uio. 63 cents. 
 
 The undersigned is happy to express his high opinion of the elements of Political Econ- 
 omy prepared by the late Prof. Samuel P. Newman. I think it has all the plainness and 
 simplicity which characterizes the treatise on Rhetoric by the same author, and which 
 are so indispensable in a text book for schools ; while a scientific arrangement and the 
 many technical terms have been preserved, the style is so perspicuous, and the illustra- 
 tions are so pertinent, as to render the book attractive to the young scholar. Another ex- 
 cellence of the work is its adaptation to the habits and institutions of our countrymen. On 
 this point the author bestowed special pains, and. as it is believed, his success was cor- 
 responding. It is not a compilation from an European work, based on usages and a state 
 of society which have no existence here, but it is throughout "an American produc- 
 tion. " 
 
 The great principles of the science are stated with as much fulness and detail as is con- 
 distent with the size of the book and its adaptation to its contemplated topics. The .au- 
 thor has exhibited great liberality of views the interests of one class are not represented 
 as hostile to those of another, but a measure which is really promotive of the prosperity 
 of one part of the country must exert a favorable influence upon other parts. The work 
 is cordially commended as an excellent text book to teachers and all who are interested in 
 the great cause of education. B. B. Edwards, Pro/, in Andover Theological Seminary, 
 
 PACKARD'S XENOPHON'S MEMORABILIA. 
 
 The Memorabilia of Socrates by Xenophon, with English Notes by ALPHEUS S. 
 PACKARD, Professor of Rhetoric, Oratory, and Classical Literature in Bowdoin Col- 
 lege. Third edition. 256 pages, 12mo, Muslin. $1 00. 
 
 As affording an introduction to the Greek Philosophy and Morals, no one of the Greek 
 Classics is more valuable to the student than the Memorabilia of Xenophon ; while at the 
 same time, on account of the matchless simplicity and elegance of its style, and the vari- 
 ety and spirit of its matter, no one is more attractive. In the grammatical Notes and 
 comments by Professor Packard, he has sought to excite the pupil to observe and to in- 
 quire for himself, rather than to relieve him from the necessity of labor. 
 
 PARLEY'S UNIVERSAL HISTORY. 
 PARLEY'S YOUNG AMERICAN.
 
 MARK H. NKYVMAN * CO 8. PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 PORTER'S RHETORICAL READER. 
 
 Tl- llhetorical Re I if <( I tutroetfons tat regulating the rote*, with 
 
 Rhetorical NoUtion, illiutrafing Inflection, EmphaaU and Modulation, MX! a 
 OOWM of Rhetorical KxercUea drfgned for the OK of AeaOemiei and High Rrhoota. 
 By Ki*ExtR PORTER, D D., PnaUrat of the Theological Seminary, Andow. 804 
 pag**, HMO. 63c*mu. 
 
 to rar anything, by wv of introduction, to tab piiiialai and 
 
 * than I 
 
 ha* already paacrd throufh mure than thrre 
 
 i ...Ir .p.. a k. lor !_... II ,. to the mrri. u! tht- 
 
 WILLSON'S HISTORICAL SERIES. 
 
 \V1I.I. MI.K AMKKICAN HIST"KY. 
 
 \VIU.SO.VS HISToltV i)K TIIK t'MTKI) STATK 
 
 uiux.vs \\iri:n-\\ III<I-..KV. 
 
 \VII.I.SD\-s iMMntr.llK.NSIVK I'llMtr Or \Mt.Kir\N HISTORY. 
 OUTLI.NKS . .| (.KM:K\I. 
 
 NO. l. WILLSON'S JUVENIbE AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 KIT Primary School* ; on the same general plan as the HUtory of the United StaUr 
 Kmbracing the mo*t inCereHting and morally Inntrurtire inciJenU and eTetiU la 
 American History, commencing with the Life of Colombo*. Uaudcomely lllua- 
 trated. 160 page*. 
 
 - .Iciicned for vountrr cliunc* in School*: eommencinv 
 it. it civei a ukrtrti of our hinlorr down U> the pnMent d*> 
 
 dHBctihr h* fteen encountiT.-.l in intradneint the nin.lv of Hiitorr into School*, from the 
 
 marked .I.-- . ,1 l.ir urn- in juvenile chucni.u wt>ll in i>ini of 
 
 t adaptedueu lo Ihc wanU of the youni. Mr Willion ha* 
 
 I-OMII il.-.| lhi< ork "illi !h. l.lnti.!i-r n! l.n |nr.!n . .-..r. In f.irr hnrn and h.i . \\- 
 
 dealhr done what nun can .; 
 
 baa failhfadjr collated and Tented hi* bet* and date*, and a* a natural roniK-i| 
 
 M>i.- rv,-, M.-no- hi. nurrurivr i t u,-n in .1 rlr.iv .mil-!'- !> If. r..n,;,r, h.-ri, il.lt- lo Ihr >. ry 
 
 ui of Wuhinfton. or Franklin. 
 
 an- in Knfiuce forcible an<l ' new, a diiti 
 
 in- man. a* if we hnu > * form no unimpon.> 
 
 tli u Hi.- hi 
 
 "Many of the Idioa* are armmpantod IT JvdWoM aiHaiial illiMtration*. and to the de 
 
 -moriai derir. 
 part* deMribtd : hi re- 
 Tilled in a marginal map.thiu 
 aMoriatinf the eent with IN N> .lily, aiid more deeplr imprw*u>f both oa the mind of the 
 
 ""- 80 to M HiMotied trwUl wOpen^t. UM author ha* exetaded that aoaattwl att*an to 
 
 .-. ,( l,l..l.n-,l. ... ir.-...T,,IK .,,.1 tlmt l..i in Urn.. ..I i..!n,,- n ii,.... l.ii.l l,-l..r,- ihr 
 
 rr.i.l.-r. of H,4t.,rr th,. rh.r -i ..,.-k .h.MiH al- r,-r,i,m.-nd it .-urh.ir 
 
 .,.,-!,... ran (, I-.,,) to Mt.iilr the In,.. ( th. . I, 1,1 H,. ,- m,nl t-rTrrl I. .url, II, ,1 
 :.., i I ,--. .houl.l !.. .,,;.,,: . n, n, ..... .. i .-.I N.,k . nn '.-.. il U- in -.; -,,-. ,..:. .,1 II., m 
 
 A* a mean-, put ni*tonr. we have 
 
 *>rnnoe<mal tolhi* workofMr WiDmn. and from our owi. hirh opinion of it* merit. *up- 
 
 : :iuncton. we do not bu*Jtii to 
 
 OHimif.i.l It to Ihr pill.'ir. H urll lillr.l for rrnrrul u.r " Wtlirm Sf/J/x,/ Journal 
 
 NO. : WILLSON'S HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 Commencing with the dlacorery of America, and bronitht down to the 4th of March, 
 1M6 ThU work prwiaota the following elaiau to public favor :-l*t. Superior Ae- 
 curary 21 Chrooologteal Arrangament of DaU* wholly In new My to. 8d. Illua- 
 trattre Map* and Chart*, aad ropiooi Oeograph>al Note*, exhibiting to the eye, and 
 describing all Important locallUeo referred to. 4th. Marginal Arrangement of th* 
 Question*. 858 page*, 12mo
 
 MARK H. NEWMAN <fe CO S. FUBLICATIONS. 
 
 The Publishers invite the critical attention of teachers and others interested in edu- 
 cation to the merits of Willson's History of the United States, for Schools. It has been 
 introduced, after a rigid examination, into the Public Schools of New York City the 
 fftate Normal School at Albany the Public Schools in Newark, Brooklyn, Rochester 
 Buffalo. Cincinnati and St Louis it is in use also in many of the best Male and FemaVt 
 Academies ami Seminaries in the country We ask its farther introduction on its merits 
 alone, firmly persuaded that it has merits possessed by no other School History. Its pe- 
 culiarities are superior accuracy, both in facts and dates geographical Notes at the bot- 
 tom of the page, and small Maps and Plans, illustrating and having direct reference to the 
 facts recorded on the same page Chronological arrangement of dates wholly in " New 
 Style" Marginal arrangement of the Questions, forming a complete Analysis of the His- 
 tory ; the book also contains a miniature Chart of American History, with dates from 1509 
 to is. Three maps, showing by means of light and shade, the progress of civilization 
 and settlement The history embraces a period of three hundred and fifty-three years, 
 dvided into four periods, beginning with the discovery of America by Columbus The 
 best histori-ins have been consulted, public documents searched, errors in other his- 
 tories corrected, and the whole adapted with admirable skill to practical use in the school- 
 room. The Publishers invite a comparison with any other history for schools extant. 
 The book is printed on good paper and substantially bound, and is furnished to schools 
 at as low a price as any of the interior histories containing the same amount of reading 
 matter. Teachers and School Committees will be furnished with copies for examination 
 by the Publishers 
 
 Read the. following from Cincinnati : "The Text Book Committee haying examined 
 Marcius > v illson's History of the United States, would hereby recommend it as a suitable 
 book for the use of the Common Schols of the city. We would suggest that hereafter it 
 should be used in the place of Mrs Willard's Abridgment. The work now recommended 
 is one of great accuracy, clear, and forcible style, embracing a period from 1492, the dis- 
 covery of the country, to 1845, the opening of the administration of James K. Polk. This 
 History, we think, is well adapted to the use of Schools The miniature Chart of American 
 History shows at a glance. l>y means of light anil shade, the progress of civilization and the 
 settlement of the Anglo-Saxon race upon this continent. The arrangement of the work '. 
 into four several parts is natural, and renders the^prk easily remembered Period 1. Em- 
 braces the History of Voyages and Discoveries till 1607, the first settlement at Jam'.i- 
 town, Virginia, a period of 115 years, reriod II Extends from the settlement of Jamjs- 
 town to the American Revolution in 1775. 168 years Period III From the commence- 
 ment of the American Revolution to the administration of George Washington in 1789. a 
 period of U years. Period I V From George Washington's administration in 1789 to James 
 K Polk in 1845. a period of 56 years The marginal dates, (new style,) as here arranged, 
 we consider of great importance to a school book, when dates are taught as a part of 
 Common School instruction All which is respectfully submitted "Cftai. &. Bryant, 
 John A Warder, Wm Phillips, Jr., Text Book Committee. 
 
 'I concur in the recommendation of Willson's History as a Text Book." Peyton S. 
 Symme* Jan. 18, 1847. 
 
 On ihe 29d Feb , 1847, the Board of Trustees and Visitors of the Common Schools of 
 Cincinnati, unanimously adopted the following resolution: 
 
 " Resolved, That the United States History, by Marcius Willson be, and the same is 
 hereby adopted by the Board of Trustees and Visitors, as the Text Book to be used ic the 
 Common Schools of Cincinnati, in place of the Abridgment by Mrs. Willard " 
 
 NO. 3. WILLSON'S AMERICAN HISTORY. 
 
 School Edition and. Library Edition, comprising BOOK I. Historical Sketches of 
 the Indian Tribes, with a Description of American Antiquities, and an Inquiry Into 
 their origin, and the Origin of the Indian Tribes. BOOK II. History of the United 
 States, (same as the above,) with Appendices additional, showing, 1st, Our relations 
 with European History during our Colonial existence an Account of the Reforma- 
 tionHistory of the Puritan sects, &c. ; 2d, An Account of Parties in England du- 
 ring our Revolution, and the European wars in which England was involved by 
 that Contest ; 3d, An Examin.itien of the Character, Tendency, and Influences of 
 our National Government, and an Historical Sketch of the Parties that divided the 
 Country from the close of the Revolution to the termination of the Second War with 
 England BOOK III. Part 1. History of the present British Provinces, from their 
 Early Settlement by the French to the present time comprising : History of the 
 Canadas of Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Prince Edward's Island New Bruns- 
 wick and Newfoundland. Also, the Early History of Louisiana. Part 2. History 
 of Mexico from the Conquest by Cortez, to the commencement of the War with the 
 United States in 1846. Part 3. History of Texas, from the time of its discovery by 
 La Salle in 1684, to the time cf its admission into the American Union in 1845. 
 One rol. large octavo, 672 pages.
 
 MARK H. NEWMAN A COS. PfBLICA . 
 
 The follow mr from l**_tHHttHtlt* Journal f- EagU o( Majr 5. 1847. U a jiut (rib- 
 Ma lo n.. ; -toooal Work* 
 "Tbew vi.Iual.l* production*. noaiitin of Juvrmlr Huiorjr. Hiirorr of ih Doited 
 
 will r. a.iil) eoottDrnd 
 
 frrut n .loin uiij in vrumc IhoM fale iruentXhns which 
 
 ..ur-r. mul Ihcy 
 
 'i as correct ia UM oonMUMM HHtoDoca in wwcli M (linen from hu coo~ 
 > Mime of otir 
 
 or<. 
 
 rokec* belonx lo ttao .Molnliau Ijuiily . lht I'oM I(orl WM 
 
 . h.in.lrr.) i>d fty r- 
 r in- 
 .1 lielher teacher* we not bound immc.lni. l> u> rr. 
 
 
 found oa ordinmry map*, ii a valnnl.le ifaproremenl. The learner will low all uMMHI M 
 
 onr for SefaooU hMaUoreoixd the Daylifled mmnnniiiUtu. 
 
 . 
 
 wvk. Albonr. Bocartf. BuflUo. CineiaMti 
 
 and .St. IXMUI 
 
 NO. 4. WILLSON'S COMPREHENSIVE CHART OF AMERICAN 
 
 II IS TOKY. On Hollers and VarMirJ. 
 
 " an elrrant Chart oi our d n t 'ountrv' Hintonr, nrntlr cnfraTed, colored, rar- 
 
 tae ami a half II a ar- 
 rnnrrd oil a plan 
 
 ' any intelligent rhild can n ailil\ urulenlarMl it 
 
 - 
 ery an 
 
 .iicaiiffiri-ai i of it* value 
 
 The folio wine wUv.tH from n umerom fommendatory notice* of the Chan, are 
 
 uter and 
 >'j An exarii 
 
 .her *rhoolii : 
 Itrrrtt acreuKxi 
 
 .'. and PrtfUtnl qflltt Sett> York Slat Ttmefitrf nr(rib>l 
 -Thm a (.lon.lid Chart. root *dmiral4y adapted to I be purpose, for 
 
 lceof lb Piii.li.- P 
 
 - P N . ' V V i> '//,;..'>..-;/ >.,^-r,n.vn,i 
 
 nrraphr ; ami 
 \> ilh tin- ux- n 
 
 NO. --.WILLSON'S "OUTLINES OF GENERAL HISTORY," 
 
 irrnwl Hi-'. >nttion. and will, whrn ramplrted. be 
 
 the mo* pwfcrt book of thr kin ! -k will be on U> aaja* 
 
 Ocnenl 1'lnn and Amngement with Mr. WIIUoo'n other HittorU*
 
 MARK H. NEWMAN & CO 8. PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 MUSIC BOOKS FOR SCHOOLS. 
 
 FLORA'S FESTIVAL. 
 
 A Musical Recreation for Schools, Juvenile Choirs, Classes, &c., together with Songs 
 Duetts and Trios, Solfeggios, Scales, and Plain Tunes for singing by Note, in thir- 
 teen keys, for the advancement of youth who have acquired some knowledge of the 
 elements, as taught in the Young Choir and Young Melodist. Edited by WK. B 
 BRADBURY. 144 pages. 25 cents. 
 
 The leading music in thia book was performed by Eight Hundred Children in the Broad- 
 way Tabernacle three successive evenings, in the Spring of 1847 ; and hundreds were nol 
 able to fain admittance No Teacher or Composer has ever been so successful in adapt- 
 ing music tor Children as Mr. Bradbury. 
 
 THE YOUNG MELODIST. 
 
 A New and Rare Collection of Social, Moral, and Patriotic Songs, designed for 
 Schools and Academies composed and arranged for one, two, or three voices. By 
 WM. B. BRADBURY. Eighth edition. 144 pages. 25 cents. 
 
 This is a most charming book for little Singers : its adoption and use 411 Schools has, in 
 numberless cases, by its benevolent influence, done away with the use of the cruel rod Let 
 Teachers try the effects of such pieces as the following: " Come Sweetly Sing," " Wel- 
 come to School," " The Golden Rule," " Our Native Land," and many others of the one 
 hundred and twenty in the book, and they will be charmed with it. 
 
 THE YOUNG CHOIR, 
 
 Or School Singing Book, original and selected. By WM. B. BRADBURT and C. W. 
 SANDERS. Twenty-fifth edition. 144 pages. 25 cents. 
 More than 50,000 copies of this little book have been sold, since its publication in 1842. 
 
 THE SCHOOL SINGER, 
 
 Or Young Choir's Companion a Choice Crllection of Music, original and selected, 
 for Juvenile Singing Schools, Sabbath Schools, Public Schools, Academies, Select 
 Classes, &c., including some of the most popular German Melodies, with English 
 words adapted, or Poetry translated from the German expressly for this work ; also, 
 a Complete Course of Instruction in the Elements of Vocal Music, founded on the 
 German system of Kubler. By WM. B. BRADBURY and C. W. SANDERS. Tenth 
 edition, 204 pages. 37& cents. 
 
 This book has also been extensively introduced into Schools, and is in very general use 
 to the entire satisfaction of both Teachers and Scholars. 
 
 THE CRYSTAL FOUNT. 
 
 A New Temperance Song Book, beautifully arranged with Hymns, Songs, and Music 
 entirely new. By THOMAS HASTINGS. This book is admirably adapted for Temper- 
 ance Choirs, Meetings and Celebrations being arranged in parts for Bass and 
 Treble voice. 112 pages. 25 cents. 
 
 This Temperance Song Book will commend itself to all friends of Temperance : it con- 
 tains upwards of fifty pieces of Music, new and appropriate, for Temperance meetings. 
 The price is fixed very low, in order to give it a wide circulation. 
 
 MRS. DANA'S NORTHERN HARP! 
 
 Consisting of Sacred and Moral Songs, adapted to the most popular Melodies, for 
 the Piano Forte and Guitar, half bound. $1 00 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN LYRE. 
 
 A Collection of Hymn* and Tunes adapted for Social worship, Prayer meetings, and 
 Revivals of Religion. Twenty-sixth edition. 
 
 THE TEMPERANCE LYRE BY MRS. DANA: 
 
 Consisting of Songs and Glees for Temperance meetings, set to popular alr. 12|
 
 MARK U. NEWMAN * COS. PUBLICA 
 
 DAY AND THOMSON'S SERIES : 
 
 CINQ A NEW AND COMPLETE COURSE OP MATHEMATICS FOR SCHOOLS AND 
 
 ACADEMIES, BY JKREM1AH DAY, Lt.D., LATK PRESIDENT OF TALE 
 
 COU.KCJE, AND JAMES B. THOMSON, A.M. 
 
 The following U cummary of thr General PUn : 
 
 1. The aerie* U praetieal in the fullest MUM of the term. 
 
 2. Unity o/'/'iV ruu through UM whol eerie* ; while It embrace* all the fubjeeto 
 noceeeary for a thorough matkrmnltral education. 
 
 8- Great care U taken never to anticipate a principle, and never to o*e one principle 
 in the explanation of another, until if ha* Itself been trptatntd or demonstrate*. 
 
 4. It abound* hi example* for practice. Without muck pructie* It I* impovible to 
 make the application of the rule* if fit tnuttriUod and Ttmtmbrrtd. 
 
 6. The drfinltiom are deeigned to be ample and exact, yet free from redundancies of 
 
 6 The arrangement of labjecU U lyttrmatic and natural. 
 
 7. The mode of reasoning U tnJuctiet, clear, and logical. 
 
 8. The rule* are ptain and brief. 
 
 9. Every principle U carefully analyzed, and the reason of the rale* folly explained. 
 
 10. One principle U explained at a time, and a sufficient number of example* I* given 
 under it, to make it* application U'll umleritood. 
 
 11. When a principle or term ha been defined in one part of the eerie*, if that prin- 
 ciple or term occur* in a didbvrat part, the same definition to iiaed. 
 
 12. The explanation* are nmplt, direct, and clear ; and the example* for illustration, are 
 practical and appoint. 
 
 NO. I. MENTAL ARITHMETIC, 
 
 Or Vint LeMon* in Nuniben for < hit Jren, by JAMS* n TBOMSOX, A. M. Kew edi- 
 tion, rerited and enlarged. ISmo, 108 page*, half bound. 15 cent*. 
 
 Thu work comm.-nro with the fimplet ronilmiation* of namben. and fraduallu ad- 
 raocee, a* the utintl of the learner expand*, and u prepared to comprehend more dimcult 
 
 "Thonuon't ' Mental Arithmetic' I think i much the beat I hare ever examined. U 
 Mem* to me to be the very thine needed by the youthful mind, when fnt entering upon 
 the eoence of number*." Jame* tt'tilfftrt. A M., Sup'l OMM. ScJtutU, Greeny 
 tie York. 
 
 late fr^f. Mathfnatia. city <.' 
 
 " I take pleaiure in ttatinc that theplan and 
 any with which I am acquainted The d 
 piece ol apperetui. the 
 
 contribute (really to lU UMfulneei and ralue. awl are tumcieat to co*aied 
 very teacher of Cocnmoo School*."- W F Pmttp*. J9w.. FrUtdful /> H 
 He*** mttacJud to the NM* York 8UU Kormmi Bditl. 
 
 NO. a^-PRACTICAL ARITHMETIC, 
 
 Uniting the Inductive with the Synthetic mode* of Instraetfon, aUo illwtrating the 
 principle* of OaoeelaOoo, for SebooU sad Aa4essis. By JAHSS B. TIOMSOV, A.M. 
 New edition, rrrUed and enlarged. UBM>, MI |NM, telf boond. Wee.* 
 
 The deeicn of lh work U lo lead the papd to a knowledce of Anthmetjc by tnjvction. 
 to anai*zt errrj pnnctple wparatelr. and to make him Ihoroocfclr scqsstnUi w 
 reocon of every orieraUaQ which be M reqwed to periona. It aboaadi 10 exaaapk*,aod 
 it tminiMry wetKML 
 
 - ThoeMon't Practical AHth*etk will eotssMnd Itaolf lo TMtfceri far Ux Clfmnm mmt 
 rrectHim with -hirh ibinilrtaad pn net plea are ataled. lor the Dumber and vane' y o( ex 
 amplee rt rornnhe* aa esereiiea for the papil. anH eipectaOy for tb* or* whir* t>* author 
 ha* taken to pi**jl a|ia*or>naie tpiMUeo* and okwrralMMM whatever Uwf are neoikd. 
 to dear up any d**eRMe that are Hub to emhamM the learner la raoaMMMMlfcs 
 work w a elae* book for pwOa.il te not nimportant lo atale. that the author haa him
 
 MARK H. NEWMAN <b CO S. PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 elf had much experience in the business of instruction, and h.is thus had occasion to 
 know where there was room for improvement in the elementary treatises in common use. 
 Without such experience, no one can be qualified to prepare a class-book for schools 
 A D. Stanley, A M., Prof of Mattir. malic*, Yale College. 
 
 " I am particularly pleased with the practical character of your Practical Arithmetic, the 
 tystematic and natural arrangements of its parts, the exactness of the definitions, the 
 clfarn^sa with which the principlfs are explained and illustrated, and the concise, yet ex- 
 plicit language with which the rules are stated. You have done a good service by re- 
 moving from the tables of Weights and Measures all denominations out of use, and by in- 
 troducing those adopted by the General Government. The work, in fine, is well adnpted 
 tothe purposes of instruction "Samuel Green, A. M , Principal of the Philips' Grammar 
 ScJiooi, Boston, Mass. 
 
 " New York, June, 1847. 
 
 " The undersigned. Commissioners and Inspectors of Common Schools of the Thir- 
 teenth Ward, take great pleasure in stating that after a careful and prolonged examina- 
 tion into the relative merits of a great number of Arithmetics, presented for their consid- 
 eration, (which number embrace all the most popular ones in present use,) have unani- 
 mously adopted Day and Thotitson's Mental, and Practical ^^thmetics for use in Ward 
 tichool, .V 19 , recently organized and opened under theicmwIEbiion. These books being 
 considered for perspicuity of arranjAjujt, and^^a;>4a^jMK|B^comprehension of the 
 pupil, with, or in the absence of ^H ^^ki prelnble rai^^P^BRs on the same subject, 
 which have come under their (Roii.''^!! illin>mL. Walters, William Tyler 
 Anderson, Charles D. Field. (Oneiitjimtoj in the. Board ) 
 
 NO. 3. KEY TO PRACTICAL ARITHMETIC 
 
 Containing tke Answers to all the Examples ; with many suggestions, and the solu- 
 tion of the most difficult questions. 12mo. ,38 cents. 
 
 ** The Mental Arithmetic has been published about a year, and the Practical Arith- 
 metic about a year and a half. They have been adopted by the State of Rhode Island ; 
 Ontario, Livingston, Onondara, Greene, and Oswego counties, N. Y. ; the City of New 
 Haven, Connecticut ; Springfield, Mass ; Buffalo. N Y , and a large number of Acade- 
 mies and Schools. No chool books have given more entire satisfaction than these Arith- 
 metics. Their success, it is believed, has been unparalleled. 
 
 NO. *H HIGHER ARITHMETIC, 
 
 Or the Theory and Application of Numbers, combining the Analytic and Synthetic 
 modes of Instruction, adapted to Scientific and Commercial purposes. By JAMKS B. 
 THOMSOS, A M. Large 12mo, full bound in leather. 75 cents. Just published. 
 
 This work is complete in itself, commencing with the fundamental rules, and 
 extending to the highest department of the Science. It is constructed on the 
 principle, that in Arithmetic, " there is a place for everything, and that every- 
 thing should be in its proper place ;" that there is a reason for every operation, and 
 the learner should understand it. It is designed for advanced classes in Schools 
 and Academies, who are preparing for the important office of Teaching, or extended 
 mercantile pursuits. 
 
 NO. 5. KEY TO THE HIGHER ARITHMETIC: 
 
 Containing the Answers to all the Examples, with many suggestions, &c 
 
 NO. 6. ELEMENTS OF ALGEBRA, 
 
 Being a School Edition of Day's Large Algebra. 75 cents. (Durrie & Peck.) 
 
 This work is designed to be an ea*y and luciil transition from the study of Arithmetic 
 to the higher brunches of Mathematics It is highly recommended by Prof. Olmsted. and 
 the Faculty of Yale College ; also by Bishop Potter, Presidents Nott, Waylaud, Hopkins 
 North, and others. 
 
 NO. 7. KEY TO THE ELEMENTS OF ALGEBRA. 
 
 Containing all the Answers, with numerous suggestions. 75 cents. (Durrie & Peck ) 
 
 NO. 8 ELEMENTS OF GEOMETRY, 
 
 Being an Abridgement of Lcgendre's Geometry, with Practical Notes and Illustra- 
 tions. Bound in leather. 75 cents. (Durrie & Peck.) 
 
 This work has received the warmest approbation of many of the most eminent Teach- 
 ers and practical Educators 
 
 NO. 9. ELEMENTS OF TRIGONOMETRY, MENSURATION, AND 
 
 LOGARITHMS. In press. 
 
 NO. 10. ELEMENTS OF SURVEYING; 
 
 Adapted both to the wants of the Learner and the Practical Surveyor. (Pub. Soon )
 
 University of California 
 
 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 Box 951388 
 
 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 
 
 Return this material to the library from which it was borrowed. 
 
 
 McELLIGOTTS YOUNG ANALYZER: 
 
 Being an eiy outline of tb eoane of inntrortlrm In the "fgllrti UnfiMft pr*. 
 Mated in M eKIUfott'i Analytical Manual, MfiMd to MTV* UM doubU purpoa* of 
 8plUn( Book and Diotionary, in the youn(er clam* In Seboolf. By J. N M< Eui- 
 BOTT. 
 The ilmicn and value of UMM booki will b tuftcirnilf ibown 10 UM fooowinf ream-
 
 A rin n c ""iiiiii alii nil an 
 
 
 
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