i^aMNn s^"# \°^<'^^MMm^' a. "^^nnfmp ^L '^m 3 1822 01718 1470 ^ r I i 1 ^ ^ % — <^ Central University Library University of California, San Diego Please Note: This item is subject to recall Date Due AU6 2 5 m^ FFR MAY 28 1999 SEP C 1999 2000 CI 39 (7/93) UCSD Lib. ^ ^.00 ^ ■1 ^ ■u'i toffgyafe^all^ S^? / , She sits, inclining forward ris to speak, Her Zips half npen, and her .finger up, As though she said, ^'Beware .' " {Page 341.) ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES. MCQUFFBY'S SIXTH ECLECTIC READER REVISED EDITION. VAN ANTWERP, BRAGG & CO., CINCINNATI. NEW YORK, Eclectic Educational Series. McGuffey''s Eclectic Speller. McGuffefs Eclectic Readers. Hai vey^s Language Course. Ray's New Arithmetics. Eclectic Geographies. Eclectic Penmanship. Venalile^s U. S. History. Thalheimer' s Historical Series. Etc., Etc. Descriptive Circulars and Price List on application to the Publishers. COPYEIGHT, 1879, BY Van Antwerp, Bragg & Co. ECLECTIC PRirao VAN ANTWERP, l^^ ^ CINCINNATI In the Sixth Reader, the general plan of the revision of MCGufpey's Series has been carefully carried out to completion. That plan has been to retain, throughout, those character- istic features of MCGuffey's Readers, which have made the series so popular, and caused their wide-spread use throughout the schools of the country. At the same time, the books have been enlarged; old pieces have been exchanged for new wlier- ever the advantage was manifest; and several new features have been incorporated, which it is thought will add largely to the value of the series. In the revision of the Sixth Reader, the introductory matter has been retained with but little change, and it will be found very valuable for elocutionary drill. In the prepara- tion of this portion of the work, free use was made of the writings of standard authors upon Elocution, such as Walker, McCulloch, Sheridan Knowles, Ewing, Pinnock, Scott, Bell, Graham, Mylins, Wood, Rush, and many others. In making up the Selections for Reading, great care and deliberation have been exercised. The best pieces of the old book are retained in the Revised Sixth, and to these have been added a long list of selections from the best English and American literature. Upwards of one hundred leading authors are represented (see "Alphabetical List of Authors," page ix), and thus a wide range of specimens of the best style has been secured. Close scrutiny revealed the fact that many popular selections, common to several series of Readers, had been largely adapted, but in MCGuffey's Revised Read- ers, wherever it was possible to do so, the selections have been compared, and made to conform strictly with the originals as they appear in the latest editions authorized by the several writers. (HI) IV PREFACE. The character of the selections, aside from their elocution- ary value, has also heen duly considered. It will be found, upon examination, that they present the same instructive merit and healthful moral tone which gave the preceding edition its high reputation. Two new features of the Revised Sixth deserve especial attention — the explanatory notes, and the biographical notices of authors. The first, in the absence of a large number of books of reference, are absolutely necessary, in some cases, for the intelligent reading of the piece; and it is believed that in all cases they Avill add largely to the interest and usefulness of the lessons. The biographical notices, if properly used, are hardly of less value than the lessons themselves. They have been carefully prepared, and are intended not only to add to the interest of the pieces, but to supply information usually obtained only by the separate study of English and American literature. The illustrations of the Revised Sixth Reader are pre- sented as specimens of fine art. They are the work of the best artists and engravers that could be secured for the pur- pose in this country. The names of these gentlemen may be found on page ten. The publishers would here repeat their acknowledgments to the numerous friends and critics who have kindly assisted in the work of revision, and Avould mention particularly Presi- dent Edvtin C. Hewett, of the State Normal University, Normal, Illinois, and the Hon. Thomas W. Harvey, of Paines- ville, Ohio, who have had the revision of the Sixth Reader under their direct advice. Especial acknowledgment is due to Messrs. Houghton, Os- good & Co., for their permission to make liberal selections from their copyright editions of many of the foremost Amer- ican authors whose works they pubUsh. January, 1880. ESTTRODUCTIOK Subject. i Page. I. Articulation 11 II. Inflection 18 III. Accent and Emphasis 33 IV. Instructions for Reading Verse 39 V. The Voice 46 VI. Gesture 65 SELECTIONS FOR READING. Title. Author. Page. 1. Anecdote of the Duke of Newcastle. Blackwood's Magazine. 63 2. The Needle Samuel Woodworth. 67 3. Dawn Edward Everett. 68 4. Description of a Storm . . . Benjamin Disraeli. 70 5. After the Thunder-storm . . . ■ . James Thomson. 72 6. House-cleaning Francis Hopkinson. 73 7. Schemes of Life often Illusory . . Samuel Johnson. 78 8. The Brave Old Oak . . . Henry Fothergill Chorley. 81 9. The Artist Surprised 82 10. Pictures of Memory Alice Gary. 88 11. The Morning Oratorio .... Wilson Flagg. 90 12. Short Selections in Poetry: I. The Cloud . , John Wilson. 94 II. My Mind William Byrd. 94 III. A Good Name .... William Sliakesi^eare. 95 IV. Sunrise James Thomson. 95 V. Old Age and Death .... Edmund Waller. 95 VI. Milton John Dryden. 96 (V) vi CONTENTS. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. Title. Author. Death of Little Nell Charles Dickens. Vanity of Life . . . Johann Gottfried von Herder. A Political Pause .... Charles James Fox. My Experience in Elocution .... John Neal. Elegy in a Country Church-yard . . Thomas Gray. Tact and Talent Speech hefore the Virginia Convention . Patrick Henry. The American Flag . . . Joseph Rodman Drake. Ironical Eulogy on Debt The Three Warnings .... Hester Lynch Thrale. The Memory of Our Fathers Short Selections in Prose: I. Dryden and Pope . . II. Las Casas Dissuading from Battle III. Action and Repose IV. Time and Change 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 4.3. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. Lyman Beecher. Samuel Johnson. R. B. Sheridan. John Ruskin. Sir Humphry Davy. V. The Poet .... William Ellery Channing. VI. Mountains William Howitt. The Jolly Old Pedagogue .... George Arnold. The Teacher and Sick Scholar . . . Charles Dickens. The Snow-shower . . . William Cullen Bryant. Character of Napoleon Bonaparte Napoleon at Rest War Speech of Walpole in Reproof of Mr. Pitt Pitt's Reply to Sir Robert Walpole . Character of Mr. Pitt The Soldier's Rest Henry V. to his Troops Speech of Paul on Mars' Hill God is Every-where La Fayette and Robert Raikes Fall of Cardinal Wolsey . The Philosopher . Marmion and Douglas The Present .... The Baptism Sparrows .... Observance of the Sabbath God's Goodness to Such as Fear Him Character of Columbus "He Giveth His Beloved Sleep Description of a Siege Marco Bozzaris Charles Phillips. John Pierpont. Charles Sumner. Sir R. Walpole. . William Pitt. Henry G rattan. . Sir Walter Scott. . William Shakespeare. . Bible. Joseph Hutton. Thomas S. Grimkg. . William Shakespeare. John P. Kennedy. . Sir Walter Scott. Adelaide Anne Procter. . John Wilson. Adeline D. Train Whitney. Gardiner Spring. . " . Bible. Washington Irving. Elizabeth B. Browning. . Six- Walter Scott. , Fitz-Greene Halleck. Page. 96 100 102 104 108 113 115 119 121 124 128 130 130 131 131 132 132 133 135 141 143 146 148 151 152 154 156 158 160 161 163 167 171 176 178 180 185 186 189 192 195 197 202 CONTENTS. vu 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. TlTIiE. Song of the Greek Bard North American Indians Lochiel's "Warning On Happiness of Temper The Fortune-teller Rienzi's Address to the Romans The Puritan Fathers of New England Author. Lord Geovge Gordon Byron . Charles Sprague. Thomas Campbell Oliver Goldsmith Henry Mackenzie. Mary Russell Mitford. F.W. P. Greenwood. Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers . Felicia Dorothea Hemans. Necessity of Education .... Lyman Beecher, Riding on a Snow-plow . Benj The Quarrel of Brutus and Cassius The Quack . Rip Van Winkle . Bill and Joe . Sorrow for the Dead . The Eagle Political Toleration What Constitutes a State? The Brave at Home . South Carolina Massachusetts and South Carolina The Church Scene from Evangeline Song of the Shirt .... amin Franklin Taylor. William Shakespeare. . John Tobin. Washington Irving. Oliver Wendell Holmes. Washington Irving. James Gates Percival. Thomas Jefferson. Sir William Jones. Thomas Buchanan Read. Robert Young Hayne. . Daniel Webster, H. W. Longfellow. Thomas Hood. Diamond cut Diamond. Edouard Ren6 Lefebvre-Laboulaye. Thanatopsis William Cullen Bryant. Indian Jugglers William Hazlitt. Antony over Caesar's Dead Body . William Shakespeare. The English Character . William Hickling Prescott. The Song of the Potter. . Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. A Hot Day in New York . . William Dean Howells. Discontent. — An Allegory .... Joseph Addison. Jupiter and Ten James T. Fields. Scene from "The Poor Gentleman" . George Colman. My brother's Picture William Cowper. Death of Samson John Milton. An Evening Adventure The Barefoot Boy . . . John Greenleaf Whittier. The Glove and the Lions . James Henry Leigh Hunt. The Folly of Intoxication . . . William Shakespeare. Starved Rock Francis Parkman. Prince Henry and Falstaff. . . William Shakespeare. Studies Sir Francis Bacon. Surrender of Granada . Sir Edward George Bulwer-Lytton. Hamlet's Soliloquy .... William Shakespeare. Pask. 205 209 211 215 218 221 223 226 228 231 234 238 242 246 249 251 253 255 256 257 259 262 266 269 275 278 281 286 290 292 295 301 303 310 312 315 317 321 322 325 327 332 334 339 VIU CONTENTS. 95. 9U. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 1.3S. Title. Ginevra .... Inventions and Discoveries Enoch Arden at the Window Adthok. Samuel Rogei-s. John Caldwell Calhoun. . Alfred Tennyson. Lochinvar Sir Walter Scott, Speech on the Trial of a Murderer . Daniel Webster, The Closing Year . . . George Denison Prentice Helen Hunt Jackson. . . Daniel Webster. John Tyndall. William Wirt, William Shakespeare, Richard H. Dana, Jr, . T. B. Macaulay, . Edmund Burke . Edgar Allan Poe Orville Dewey A New City in Colorado . Importance of the Union The Influences of the Sun Colloquial Powers of Franklin The Dream of Clarence . Homeward Bound Impeachment of Warren Hastings Destruction of the Carnatic The Raven A View of the Colosseum The Bridge .... Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Objects and Limits of Science . Robert Charles Winthrop The Downfall of Poland . . . Thomas Campbell, Labor Horace Greeley. The Last Days of Herculaneum . Edwiji Atherstone, How Men Reason , . . Oliver Wendell Holmes Thunder-storm on the Alps .... Lord Byron, Origin of Property . . . Sir William Blackstone, Battle of Waterloo Lord Byron. "With Brains, Sir" John Brown, The New England Pastor . . . Timothy Dwight, Death of Absalom Bible Abraham Davenport . . . John Greenleaf Whittier, The Falls of the Yosemite . . Thomas Starr King A Psalm of Life . . Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Franklin's Entry into Philadelphia. Benjamin Franklin, Lines to a Water-fowl . . William Cullen Bryant, Goldsmith and Addison .William Makepeace Thackeray, . Joseph Addison. Jared Sparks, Immortality of the Soul . Character of Washington . Eulogy on Washington The Solitary Reaper . Value of the Present Happiness .... Marion A Common Thought A Definite Aim in Reading Ode to Mt Bl.anc . Henry Lee. . William Wordsworth. Ralph Waldo Emerson. . Alexander Pope. William Gilmore Simms. Henry Timrod. . Noah Porter. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Page. 340 344 347 350 352 355 358 362 364 366 368 371 375 379 382 389 392 394 396 398 401 405 408 410 415 417 419 420 424 426 429 431 434 435 438 440 444 446 447 451 453 456 457 462 ALPHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHORS. NAME. PAGE. NAME. PAGE. 1. Addison, Joseph 295, 438 38. Goldsmith . 215 2. Arnold, George 133 39. Grattan, Henry . . 154 3. Atherstone. Edwin 401 40. Gray, Thomas . . 108 4. Bacon, Sir Francis 332 41. Greeley, Horace . . 398 5. Beecher, Lyman . 126 228 42. Greenwood, F. W. P. . 223 6. Bible, The 160, 189 420 43. GRiMKfi, Thomas S. . 163 7. Blackstone, Sir William 410 44. Halleck, Fitz-Greene . 202 8. Blackwood's Magazine 63 45. Hayne, Robert Young . 257 9. Brown, John . 417 46. Hazlitt, William . . 278 10. Browning, Elizabeth B. 195 47. Hermans, Felicia D. . 226 11. Bryant 141, 275 434 48. Henry, Patrick . 115 12. Bulwer-Ly-tton. 334 49. Holmes . 246, 405 13. Burke, Edmund 379 50. Hood, Thomas . . 266 14. Byrd, William 94 51. Hopkinson, Francis . 73 15. Byron 205, 408 415 52. HOWELLS, W. D. . 292 16. Calhoun, John C. . 344 53. Howitt, William . . 132 17. Campbell, Thomas . 211, 396 54. Hunt, Leigh . . 321 18. Cary, Alice 88 55. HuTTON, Joseph . 161 19. Channing, William Ellery. 132 56. Irving ... 19 2, 242, 249 20. Chorley, H. F. 81 57. Jackson, Helen Hunt . 358 21. Coleridge . 462 58. Jefferson, Thomas . 253 22. CoLMAN, George 303 59. Johnson, Samuel . 78, 130 23. Cowper 310 60. Jones, Sir William . 255 24. Dana, Richard H., Jr. . 371 61. Kennedy, John P. . . 171 25. Davy, Sir Humphry 131 62. King, Thomas Starr . 426 26. Dewey, Orville 389 63. Lee, Henry . 444 27. Dickens 9G, 135 64. Lefebvre-Laboulaye . 269 28. Disraeli, Benjamin 70 65. LdNGFELLOW . 262, 29C , 392, 429 29. Drake, Joseph Rodman 119 66. Macaulay . 375 30. Dryden 96 67. Mackenzie, Henry . 218 31. DwiGHT, Timothy . 419 68. Milton . 312 32. Emerson . 447 69. MiTFORD, Mary Russell . 221 33. Everett . 68 70. Neal, John . 104 34. Fields, James T. 301 71. Parkman, Francis . 325 35. Flagg, Wilson 90 72. Percival, J. G. . 251 36. Fox, Charles James 102 73. Phillips, Charles . . 143 37. Franklin, Benjamin 431 74. Plerpont, John . 146 (ix) ALPHABETICAL LIST OF A UTHORS. NAME. PAGE. 1 NAME. PAGE. 75. Pitt .... 152 93. Taylor, B. F. . . . 231 76. PoE, Edgar Allan . 382 94. Tennyson . 347 77. Pope .... 451 95. Thackeray . . 435 78. Porter, Noah . 457 96. Thomson, James . 72,95 79. Prentice, Geo. D. . 355 97. Thrale, Hester Lynch . 124 80. Prescott . 286 98. Timrod, Henry . 456 81. Procter, Adelaide Anne 178 99. ToBiN, John . . 238 82. Read, T. B. 256 100. Tyndall . 364 83. Rogers, Samuel 340 101. von Herder. J. G. . . 100 84. RusKiN, John . 131 102. Waller, Edmind . . 95 85. Scott . . 156, 176, 197 ,350 103. Walpole .... . 151 86. Shakespeare . 95, 158 ,167 104. Webster . . . 259, 352, 362 234, 281, 322 327, 339 ,368 105. Whitney, Adeline D. T. . 185 87. Sheridan, R. B. 130 106. Whittier 317, 424 88. SIMMS, William Gilmore 453 107. Wilson, John 94, 180 89. Sparks, Jared 440 108. Winthrop, R. C. . . 394 90. Sprague, Charles . 209 109. Wirt, William . 366 91. Spring, Gardiner . 186 110. Woodworth, Samuel . . 67 92. Sumner 148 111. Wordsworth . . 446 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. Ginevra Frontispiece Drawn by H. F. Farny. Engraved by Timothy Cole. Duke of Newcastle 65 Drawn by H. F. Farny. Engraved by F. Juengling. Gray's Elegy 112 Drawn by Thomas Moran. Engraved by Henry Bogert. Marmion 177 Draivn by C. S. Reinhart. Engraved by J. O. Smithivick. The Quack 240 Drawn by Howard Pyle. Engraved by J. P. Davis. Diamond Cut Diamond .... 272 Drawn by Alfred Kappas. Engraved by Timothy Cole. The Glove and the Lions 321 Drawn by H. P. Farny. Engraved by Smithivick & French. Hebculaneum 401 Drawn by Charles D. Sauerwein. Engraved by Francis S. King. INTRODUCTION. The subject of Elocution, so far as it is deemed appli- cable to a work of this kind, will be considered under the following heads, viz: 1. Articulation. 2. Inflection. 3. Accent and Emphasis. 4. Reading Verse. 5. The Voice. 6. Gesture. I. ARTICULATION Articulation is the utterance of the elementary sounds of a language, and of their combinations. As words consist of one or more elementary sounds, the first object of the student should be to acquire the power of uttering those sounds with dldinctness, smoothness, and force. This result can be secured only by careful practice, which must be persevered in until the learner has acquired a perfect control of his organs of speech. (11) 12 ECLECTIC SERIES. ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. An Elementary Sound is a simple, distinct sound made by the organs of speech. The Elementary Sounds of the English language are divided into Vocals, Subvocals, and Aspirates. VOCALS. Vocals are sounds which consist of pure tone only. They are the most prominent elements of aU words, and it is proper that they should first receive attention. A vocal may be represented by one letter, as in the word hat, or by two or more letters, as in heat, beaviy. A diphthong is a union of two vocals, commencing with one and ending with the other. It is usually represented by two letters, as in the words oil, boy, out, now. Each of these can be uttered with great force, so as to give a distinct expression of its sound, although the voice be suddenly suspended, the moment the sound is produced. This is done by putting the lips, teeth, tongue, and palate in their proper position, and then expelling each sound from the throat in the same manner that the syllable " ah ! " is uttered in endeavoring to deter a child from something it is about to do; thus, a' — a' — a' — . Let the pupil be required to utter every one of the ele- ments in the Table with all possible suddenness and percus- sive force, until he is able to do it with ease and accuracy. This must not be considered as accomplished until he can give each sound with entire clearness, and with all the suddenness of the "crack" of a rifle. Care must be taken that the vocal alone be heard; there must be no consonantal sound, and no vocal sound other than the one intended. At first, the elementary sounds may be repeated by the class in concert; then separately. SIXTH READER. 13 Table of Vocals. Long Sounds. a, as in hate. e, as in eve. a, " hare. e, " err. a, " pass. i, " pine. a, " far. o, " no. a, " fall. oo, " cool. u, as in tube. Short Sounds. a, as in mat. 6, as in hot. e, " met. do, " book 1, " nag. k, bd6k. j, " judge. ch, rich. V, " move. f, life. th, " with. th, smith z, " buzz. Si biss. z, " azure (azh-). sh, rush. w, " wine. wh J " what. Remark. — These eighteen sounds make nine pairs of cognates. In articulating the aspirates, the vocal organs are put in the position required in the articulation of the corresponding subvocals; but the breath is expelled with some force, without the utterance of any vocal sound. The pupil should first verify this by experiment, and then practice on these cognates. The following subvocals and aspirate have no cognates: Subvocals. 1, as in mill, m, " rim. n, " run. ng, as in sing, r, " rule. y, " yet. Aspirate. h, as in hat. SUBSTITUTES. Substitutes are characters used to represent sounds ordi- narily represented by other characters. SIXTH READER. 15 Table of SiTBSTiTtrTKS. a for 6, as in what. e ' ' a, ' there. e ' ' ^, ' ' freight i ' ' e, ' ' poh'9e. 1 ' ' §1 ' ' sir. 6 ' ' u, ' ' son. o ' ' oo, ' ' to. o ' ' do, ' ' would. 6 ' ' (Vi ' ' corn. o ' ' e, ' worm. u ' ' do, ' ' pull. u ' ' e, ' ' urge. u ' ' oo, " riide. y ' ' I " my. y for i, as in hymn. 9 " s, " 9ite. e " k, " cap. 9h" sh, " machine. eh " k, " chord. g " J. " eage. n " ng, " rink. § " z, ■ ro§e. s " sh ' sugar. ? " gz, " examine gh," f, " laugh. ph" f, ' sylph. qu " k ' pique. qu" kw, ' quick. FAULTS TO BE REMEDIED. The most common faults of articulation are dropping an tmaccented vowel, sounding incorrectly an unaccented vowel, suppressing final consonants, omitting or mispro- nouncing syllables, and blending words. 1. Dropping an unaccented vocal. EXAMPLES. CORRECT. INCORRECT. CORRECT. INCORRECT. Gran^a-ry gran'ry a-ban'don a-ban-d'n. im-mor^tal im-mor-t'l. reg'u-lar reg'lar. in-clem^ent in-clem'nt. par-tic^u-lar par-tic'lar. des^ti-ny des-t'ny. cal-cu-la^tion cal-cra-sh'n un-cer^tain un-cer-t'n. oc-ca^sion oc-ca-sh'n. em^i-nent em'nent. eFfi-gy ef'gy- ag'o-ny ag'ny. man^i-fold man'fold. rev''er-ent rev'rent. cuFti-vate cult'vate. 16 ECLECTIC SERIES. 2. Sounding incorrectly an unaccented vowel. EXAMPIiES. CORRECT. Lam-en-ta'-tion e-ter^nal oVsti-nate e-vent^ effort INCORRECT. lam-wn-ta-tion e-ter-nwl. ob-st?m-it. Mv-ent. wf-fort. CORRECT. ter^ri-ble fel-o'iiy feFlow-ship caFcu-late reg^u-lar INCORRECT. ter-rwb-ble. fel-er-ny. fel-ler-ship. cal-ker-late. reg-gy-lwr. EXERCISES. The vocals most likely to be dropped or incorrectly sounded are itaKcized. He attended de'vine serv/ce regularly. This is my particular request. She 2S universally esteemed. George is sensible of his fault. This calcMlation is incorrect. What a terrible calamity. His eye through vast immensity can pierce. Observe these nice dependencies. He is a formidable adversary. He is generous to his friends. A tempest desolated the land. He preferred death to servitude. God is the author of all things visible and invisible. 3. Suppressing the final subvocals or aspirates. EXAMPLES. John an' James are frien's o' my father. Gi' me some bread. The want o' men is occasioned by the want o' money. We seldom fine' men o' principle to ac' thus. Beas' an' creepin' things were foun' there. SIXTH READER. 17 EXERCISES He learnec? to write. The maste of the ship were cas< down. He entered the \\&ts at the head of his troops. He is the merriest fellow in existence. I regard not the worh/'s opinion. He has three assistant. The depZAs of the sea. She trusts too much to servants. His attempt were fruitless. He chancec/ to see a bee hoverin^^ over a flower. 4. Omitting or mispronouncing whole syllables. EXAMPLES. Lit''er-a-ry is improperly pronounced lit-rer-ry. co-tem^po-ra-ry het-er-o-ge^ne-ous in-quis-i-to^ri-al mis^er-a-ble ac-com^pa-ni-ment co-tem-po-ry. het-ro-ge-nous. in-quis-i-to-ral. mis-rer-ble. ac-comp-ner-ment. EXERCISES. He devoted his attention chiefly to literary pursuits. He is a miserable creature. His faults were owing to the degeneracy of the times. The manuscript was undecipherable. His spirit was unconquerable. Great industry was necessary for the performance of the task. 5. Blending the end of one word with the beginning of the next. EXAMPLES. I court thy gif sno more. The grove swere God sfir stemples. (6.-2.) 18 ECLECTIC SERIES. My hear fwas a mirror, that show' rfevery treasure. It reflecte rfeach beautiful blosso mof pleasure. Han c?'me the slate. This worl c^is all a fleeting show, For man' sillusion given. EXERCISES. The magistrates ought to arrest the rogues speedily. The whirlwinds sweep the plain. lAxiked to thy side, through every chance I go. But hac^ he seen a?i actor in our days enacting Shakespeare. Wha< awful sounds assail my ears ? We cdMght a glimpse of her. Old age has on their tempks shed her silver frost. Our eagle shall rise mid the whirlwinds of war, And dart through the dun clouo? of battle his eye. Then honor shall weave of the laurel a crown, That beauty shall hmd on the brow of the brave. n. INFLECTIOK Inflection is a bending or sliding of the voice either upward or downward. The upward or rising inflection is an upward slide of the voice, and is marked by the acute accent, thus, ('); as. Did you call'? Is he sick'? The downward or falling inflection is a downward slide of the voice, and is marked by the grave accent, thus, (^); as. Where is London^? Where have you been^? SIXTH READER. 19 Sometimes both the rising and falling inflections are given to the same sound. Such sounds are designated by the circumflex, thus, (^) or thus, (a). The former is called the rising circumflex ; the latter, the falling circumflex ; as, But nobody can bear the death of Clodius. When several successive syllables are uttered without either the upward or doAvnward sHde, they are said to be uttered in a monotone, which is marked thus, ( — ) ; as, Koll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll! EXAMPIiES. Does he read correctly^ or incorrectly^ ? In reading this sentence, the voice should slide somewhat as represented in the following diagram : Does he read cor- "^ ^^-ly? If you said vinegar, I said sugar. To be read thus : If you said I said 5- If you said yes, I said no. To be read thus: What^ ! did he say no' ? To be read thus: -\j^\vat^ did he say tvo' 20 ECLECTIC SERIES, He did\ he said no\ To be read thus: He -^; he said<^. Did he do it voluntarily^ or involuntarily^? To be read thus: ;x\i>-^f'( Did he do it ^ He did it voluntarily\ not involuntarily'. To be read thus : He did it EXERCISES. Do they act prudently'', or imprudently^? Are they at home^ or abroad^? Did you say Europe', or Asia^ ? Is he rich', or poor^? He said pain\ not pain'. Are you engaged', or at leisure^? Shall I say plain', or pain^? He went home\ not abroad'. Does he say able', or table^? He said hazy\ not lazy'? Must I say flat', or flat^? You should say flat\ not flat'. My father', must I stay'? Oh! but he paused upon the brink. It shall go hard with me, but I shall use the weapon. Heard ye those loud contending waves. That shook Cecropia's pillar'd state'? Saw ye the mighty from their graves Look up', and tremble at your fate'? SIXTH READER. 21 First' Fear\ his hand, its skill to try', Amid the chords bewildered laid^ ; And back recoiled\ he knew not why',' E'en at the sound himself had made\ Where be your gibes^ now ? your gambols^ ? your songs^ ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar^ ? Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eter- nity, whose name is Holy; "I dwell in the high and holy place." FALLING INFLECTION. Rule I. — Sentences, and parts of sentences which make complete sense in themselves, require the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. By virtue we secure happiness^. 2. For thou hast said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven^: I will exalt my throne above the stars of God^: I will sit, also, upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north\ 3. The wind and the rain are over^ ; calm is the noon of the day^ : the clouds are divided in heaven^ ; over the green hills flies the inconstant sun\ red through the stormy vale comes down the stream\ 4. This proposition was, however, rejected,^ and not merely rejected, but rejected with insultV Exception.— Emphasis sometimes reverses this rule, and requires the rising inflection, apparentlj' for the purpose of calling attention to the idea of an unusual manner of expressing it. EXAMPLES. 1. I should not like to ride in that car'. 2. Look out! A man was drowned there yesterday'. 3. Presumptuous man ! the gods^ take care of Cato'. 22 ECLECTIC SERIES. Rule II. — The language of emphasis generally requires the falling injiedion. EXAMPIiES. 1. Charge^, Chester, charge^; on\ Stanlej', on\ 2. Were I an American, as I am an Englishman, while a single^ foreign troop^ remained^ in my country, I would never^ lay down my arms — never\ never\ never.^ 3. Does any one suppose that the payment of twenty shil- lings, would have ruined Mr. Hampden's fortune? No\ But the payment of half^ twenty shillings, on the principle^ it was demanded, would have made him a slave^. 4. I insist^ upon this point^: I urge^ you to it; I press^ it, demand^ it. 5. All that I have\ all that I am\ and all that I hope^ in this life, I am now ready^, here^, to stake^ upon it. Rule III. — Interrogative sentences and members of sen- tences, which can not be answered by yes or tw, generally require the falling inflection. KXAMPLES. 1. How many books did he purchase^? 2. Why reason ye these things in your hearts^? 3. What see^ you, that you frown so heavily to-day^? 4. Ah! what is that flame which now bursts on his eye^? 5. Whence this pleasing hope\ this fond desire\ This longing after immortality^? Exception.— When questions usually requiring the falling inflection are emphatic or repeated, tliey take the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. Where did you say he had gone'? 2. To whom did you say the blame was to be imputed'? 3. What is^ he? A knave. What' is he? A knave, I say. SIXTH READER. 23 RISING INFLECTION. Rule IV. — The rising infieciion is generally used where the sense is dependent or incomplete. Remark.— This inflectiou is generally very slight, requiring an acute and educated ear to discern it, and it is difficult to teach pupils to dis- tinguish it, though they constantly use it. Care should be taken not to exaggerate it. EXAMPI,ES. 1. Nature being exhausted^, he quietly resigned himself to his fate. 2 A chieftain to the Highlands bound', Cries', " Boatman, do not tarry ! " 3. As he spoke without fear of consequences', so his actions were marked with the most unbending resolution. 4. Speaking in the open air', at the top of the voice', is an admirable exercise. 5. If then, his Providence', out of our evil, seek to bring forth good', our labor must be to prevent that end. 6. He', born for the universe', narrowed his mind. And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Remark. — The names of persons or things addressed, when not used emphatically, are included in this rule. 7. Brother', give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick', Let me embrace thee in my weary arms. 8. Lancaster', I fear thy overthrow. 9. Ye crags' and peaks', I'm with you once again. Exception 1. — Relative emphasis often reverses this and the first rule, because emphasis is here expressed in part by changing the usual inflections. EXAMPLES. 1. If you care not for your property^, you surely value your life'. 2. If you will not labor for your own^ advancement, you should regard that of your children'. 24 ECLECTIC SERIES. 3. It is your place to o6ey\ not to command''. 4. Though by that course he should not destroy his rep- utation', he will lose all self-respect'. Exception 2.— The names of persons addressed in a formal speech, or when used emphatically, have the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. Romans, countrymen, and lovers\ hear me for my cause, etc. 2. Gentlemen of the jury\ I solicit your attention, etc. 3. O Hubert\ Hubert\ save me from these men. Rule V. — Negative sentences and parts of sentences, usually require the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. It is not by starts of application that eminence can be attained'. 2. It was not an eclipse that caused the darkness at the crucifixion of our Lord'; for the sun and moon were not relatively in a position^ to produce an eclipse'. 3. They are not fighting': do not disturb' them: this man is not expiring with agony': that man is not dead': they are only pausing'. 4. My Lord, we could not have had such designs'. 5. You are not left alone to climb the steep ascent': God is with you, who never suffers the spirit that rests on him to fail. Exception 1.— Emphasis may reverse this rule. EXAMPLE. We repeat it, we do not'^ desire to produce discord; we do noi'^ wish to kindle the flames of % civil war. Exception 2.— General propositions and commands usually have the falling inflection. SIXTH READER. 25 EXAMPLES. God is not the author of sin\ Thou shalt not kill\ Rule VI. — ^Interrogative sentences, and members of sen- tences which can be answered by yes or no, generally re- quire the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation^ ? 2. Does the gentleman suppose it is in his power^, to exhibit in Carolina a name so briglit' as to produce envy^ in my bosom ? 3. If it be admitted, that strict integrity is not the shortest way to success, is it not the surest', the happiest', the best'? 4. Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens, To wash this crimson hand as white as snow'? Exception, — Emphasis may revei'se this rule. EXAMPLES. 1. Qan^ you be so blind to your interest? Will^ you rush headlong to destruction ? 2. I ask again, tV tliere no hope of reconciliation? MusC' we abandon all our fond anticipations? 3. Will you deny' it? Will you deny'^ it? 4. Am I Dromio'? Am I your man'? Am I myself^ f Rule VII. — Interrogative exclamations, and words re- peated as a kind of echo to the thought, require the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. Where grows', where grows it not'? 2. What' ! Might Rome have been taken' ? Rome taken when I was consul'? 6.-3. 26 ECLECTIC SERIES. 3. Banished from Eome^! Tried and convicted traitor^! 4. Prince Henry. What's the matter'' ? Falstaff. What's the matter^? Here be four of us have taken a thousand pounds this morning. Prince H. Where is^ it, Jack, where is^ it? Fal Where is^ it? Taken from us, it is. 5. Ha^l laughest thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? 6. And this man is called a statesman. A statesman'? Why, he never invented a decent humbug. 7. I can not say, sir, which of these motives influence the advocates of the bill before us; a bill', in which such cruel- ties are proposed as are yet unknown among the most savage nations. RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS. Rule VIII. — Words and members of a sentence express- ing antithesis or contrast, require opposite inflections. EXAMPLES. 1. By honor' and dishonor^; by evil' report and good^ re- port; as deceivers' and yet true^. 2. What they know by reading', I know by experience^. 3. I could honor thy courage', but I detest thy crimes'^. 4. It is easier to forgive the weak\ who have injured us', than the powerful' whom we^ have injured. 5. Homer was the greater genius', Virgil the better artist\ 6. The style of Dryden is capricious and varied'; that of Pope is cautious and uniform\ Dryden obeys the emotions of his own mind'; Pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition.^ Dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid'; Pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle\ Dryden's page is a natural field, rising into inequalities, varied by exuberant vegetation'; Pope's is a velvet lawn, shaven by the scythe and leveled by the roller^. SIXTH READER. 27 7. If the flights of Dryden are higher', Pope continues longer on the wing^. If the blaze of Dryden's fire is brighter'', the heat of Pope's is more regular and constant\ Dryden often surpasses' expectation, and Pope never falls below^ it. Remark 1.— Words and members connected by or "ufsed disjunctively, generally express contrast or antithesis, and always receive opposite in- flections. EXAMPLES. 1. Shall we advance', or retreat^? 2. Do you seek wealth', or power^ ? 3. Is the great chain upheld by God', or thee^? 4. Shall we return to our allegiance while we may do so with safety and honor', or shall we wait until the ax of the executioner is at our throats^ ? 5. Shall we crown' the author of these public calamities with garlands', or shall we wrest^ from him his ill-deserved authority^ ? Remark 2. — When the antithesis is between affirmation and nega- tion, the latter usually has the rising inflection, according to Rule V. EXAMPLES. 1. You were paid to fighf* against Philip, not to rail' at him. 2. I said rationally\ not irrationally'. 3. I did not say rationally', but irrationally^. 4. I said an elder^ soldier, not a better'. 5. Let us retract while we can^, not when we must'. Remark 3.— The more emphatic member gena-aUy receives the fall- ing inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. A countenance more in sorrow^, than anger'. 2. A countenance less in anger', than sorrow^. 3. You should show your courage by deeds\ rather than by words'. 4. If we can not remove^ pain, we may alleviate' it. 28 ECLECTIC SERIES. OF SERIES. A series is a number of particulars immediately follow- ing one another in the same grammatical construction. A commencing series is one which commences a sentence or clause. EXAMPLE. Faith, hope, love, joy, are the fruits of the spirit. A concluding series is one which concludes a sentence or a clause. EXAMPLE. The fruits of the spirit are faith, hope, love, and joy. Rule IX. — All the members of a commencing series, when not emphatic, usually require the rising injiection. EXAMPLES. 1. War', famine', pestilence', storm', and fire' besiege man- kind. 2. The knowledge', the power', the wisdom', the goodness' of God, must all be unbounded. 3. To advise the ignorant', to relieve the needy', and to comfort the afflicted' are the duties that fall in our way almost every day of our lives. 4. No state chicanery', no narrow system of vicious polities', no idle contest for ministerial victories', sank him to the vulgar level of the great. 5. For solidity of reasoning', force of sagacity', and wisdom of conclusion', no nation or body of men can compare with the Congress at Philadelphia. 6. The wise and the foolish', the virtuous and the evil', the learned and the ignorant', the temperate and the profligate', must often be blended together. SIXTH READER. 29 7. Absalom's beauty^, Jonathan's love^, David's valor^, Solo- mon's wisdom^, the patience of JoV, the prudence of Augustus'', and the eloquence of Cicero' are found in perfection in the Creator. Remark.— Some elocutionists prefer to give the falling inflection to tlie Uist member of a commencing series. Exception.— In a commencing series, forming a climax, the last term usually requires the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. Days', months', years', and ages^, shall circle away. And still the vast waters above thee shall roll. 2. Property', character', reputation', every thing^, was sacri- ficed. 3. Toils', sufferings', wounds', and death^ was the price of our liberty. Rule X. — All the members of a concluding series, when not at all emphatic, usually require the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. It is our duty to pity\ to support\ to defend^, and to relieve^ the oppressed. 2. At the sacred call of country, they sacrifice property^, ease\ health^, applause^, and even life^. 3. I protest against this measure as cruel^, oppressive^, tyr- annous^, and vindictive^. 4. God was manifest in the flesh^, justified in the Spirit^, seen of angels\ preached unto the Gentiles\ believed on in the workr, received up into glory ^. 5. Charity vaunteth not itself\ is not puffed up^, doth not behave itself unseemly\ seeketh not her own\ is not easily provoked\ thinketh no evil\ beareth^ all things, believeth^ all things, hopeth^ all things, endureth^ all things. Remark. — Some authors give the following rule for the reading of a concluding series : " All the particulars of a concluding series, except the last but one, require the falling inflection." Exception 1.— When the particulars enumerated in a concluding series are not at all emphatic, all except the last require the rising inflection. 30 ECLECTIC SERIES. He was esteemed for his kindness^, his intelligence'', his self-deniaF, and his active benevolence\ Exception 2.— When all the terms of a concluding series are strongly empliatic, they all receive the falling inflection. • EXAMPLES. 1. They saw not one man\ not one woman\ not one child\ not one four-footed beast\ 2. His hopes\ his happiness\ his life\ hung upon the words that fell from those lips. 3. They fought\ they bled\ they died\ for freedom. PAEENTHESIS. Rule XI. — A parenthesis should be read more rapidly and in a lower key than the rest of the sentence, and should terminate with the same inflection that next pre- cedes it. If, however, it is complicated, or emphatic, or disconnected from the main subject, the inflections must be governed by the same rules as in the other cases. Remark.— A smooth and expressive reading of a parenthesis is diffi- cnlt of acquisition, and can be secured only by careful and persistent training. EXAMPLES. 1. God is my witness'' (whom I serve with my spirit, in the gospel of his Son'), that, witliout ceasing, I make mention of you always in my prayers; making request'' (if, by any means, now at lenght, I might have a prosperous journey by the will of God'), to come unto you. SIXTH READER. 31 2. When he had entered the room three paces, he stood still; and laying his left hand upon his breast' (a slender, white staff with which he journeyed being in his right'), he introduced himself with a little story of his convent. 3. If you, ^schines, in particular, were persuaded' (and it was no particular affection for me, that prompted you to give up the hopes, the appliances, the honors, which attended the course I then advised; but the superior force of truth, and your utter inability to point any course more eligible^) if this was the case, I say, is it not highly cruel and unjust to arraign these measures now, when you could not then pro- pose a better? 4. As the hour of conflict drew near' (and this was a con- flict to be dreaded even by him^), he began to waver, and to abate much of his boasting. CIRCUMFLEX. Rule XII. — The drcumjiex is used to express irony, sarcasm, hypothesis, or contrast. Note. — For the reason that the circumflex always suggests a double or doubtful meaning, It is appropriate for the purposes expressed in the rule. It is, also, frequently used in sportive language; jokes and puns are commonly given with this inflection. EXAMPLES. 1. Man never is, but always to be, blest. 2. They follow an adventurer whom they fear; we serve a monarch whom we love. They boast, they come but to im- prove our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error. Yes, they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protection: yes, siich protection as viiltures give to lambs, covering and devouring them. 32 ECLECTIC SERIES. MONOTONE. Rule XIII. — The use of the monotone is confined chiefly to grave and solemn subjects. When carefully and prop- erly employed, it gives great dignity to delivery. EXAMPLES. 1. The unbeliever! one who can gaze upon the sun, and moon, and stars, and upon the unfading and imperishable sky, spread out so magnificently above him, and say, "All this is the work of chance 1 " 2. God walketh upon the ocean. Brilliantly The glassy waters mirror back his smiles; The surging billows, and the gamboling storms Come crouching to his feet. 3. I hail thee, as in gorgeous robes, Blooming thou leav'st the chambers of the east, Crowned with a gemmed tiara thick embossed With studs of living light. 4. High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous east, with richest hand, Showers on her kings barbaric pearls and gold, Satan exalted sat. 5. His broad expanded wings Lay calm and motionless upon the air. As if he floated there without their aid, By the sole act of his unlorded will. 0. In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On lialf the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. I SIXTH READER. 33 m. ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. ACCENT. That syllable in a word which is uttered more forcibly than the others, is said to be accented, and is marked thus, ('); as the italicized syllables in the following words: morn'mg. ^05^si-ble. ^j/rant. re-cwm^bent. -pvo-cure'. ex-o?-^i-tant. de-bate', coni-jDre-Zfe^/sive. Common usage ahne determines upon what syllable the accent should be placed, and to the lexicographer it be- longs, to ascertain and record its decision on this point. In some few cases, we can trace the reasons for common usage in this respect. In words which are used as different parts of speech, or which have different meanings, the dis- tinction is sometimes denoted by changing the accent. sub'ject. .£i.m.rxjcsi. sub-ject'. pres^ent. pre-senf. ab^sent. ab-sent^. cem^ent. ce-ment.'' con'jure. con-jure'. There is another case, in which Ave discover the reason for changing the accent, and that is, when it is required by emphasis, as in the following: EXAMPLES. 1. His ahiViiy or zVability to perform the act materially varies the case. 2. This corrup'iiow must put on iVcorruption. 34 ECLECTIC SERIES. SECONDARY ACCENT. In words of more than two syllables, there is often a second accent given, but more slight than the jjrincipal one, and this is called the secondary accent; as, em'igrate", rep"axtee', where the principal accent is marked ('), and the secondary, ( " ) ; so, also, this accent is obvious, in 7mv"\ga!\xon., co??i"pre/«ew'sion, 'plau"&\hU' \ty, etc. The Avhole subject, however, properly belongs to dictionaries and spell- ing-books. EMPHASIS. Emphasis consists in uttering a word or phrase in such a manner as to give it force and energy, and to draw the attention of the hearer particularly to the idea expressed. This is most frequently accomplished by an increased stress of voice laid upon the word or phrase. Sometimes, though more rarely, the same object is effected by an un- usual lowering of the voice, even to a wliisper, and not unfrequently by a pause before the emphatic word. The inflections are often made subsidiary to this object. To give emphasis to a word, the inflection is changed or increased in force or extent. When the rising inflection is ordinarily used, the word, when emphatic, frequently takes the falling inflection ; and sometimes, also, the falling in- flection is clianged into the rising inflection, for the same purpose. Emphatic words are often denoted by being written in italics, in small capitals, or in CAPITALS, Much care is necessary to train the pupil to give clear and expressive emphasis, and at the same time to avoid an unpleasant "jerky" movement of the voice. SIXTH READER. 35 ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS. Where the emphasis is independent of any contrast or comparison with other words or ideas, it is called absolute empJiasis. EXAMPLES. 1. We praise thee, O God ; we acknowledge thee to be the Lord. 2. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roil! 3. Arm, warriors, arm I 4. You know that you are Brutus, that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 5. Hamlet. Saw, who ? Horatio. The king, your father. Hamlet. The ki7ig, my father? 6. Strike — till the last armed foe expires; Strike — for your altars and youv fires; Strike — for the green graves of your sires; God, and your native land I \ RELATIVE EMPHASIS. Where there is antithesis, either expressed or implied, the emphasis is called relative. EXAMPLES. 1. We can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth. 2. But I am describing your condition, rather than my own. 3. I fear not death, and shall I then fear thee? 4. Hunting men, and not beasts, shall be his game. 36 ECLECTIC SERIES. 5. He is the propitiation for our sins ; and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole world. 6. It may moderate and restrain, but it was not designed to banish gladness from the heart of man. In the following examples, there are tivo sets of antitheses in the same sentence. 7. To err is human, to forgive, divine. 8. John was punished; William, rewarded. 9. Without were Jightings, within were fears. 10. Business sweetens pleasure, as labor sweetens rest. 11. Justice ajDpropriates rewards to merit, and punishments to crime. 12. On the one side, all was alacrity and courage; on the oi/ter, all was timidity and indecision. 13. The t«i5e man is happy when he gains his oivn approba- tion ; the fool, when he gains the applause of others. 14. His care was to polish the country by art, as he had ^9?-o- tected it by arms. In the following examples, the relative emphasis is ap- plied to three sets of antithetic words. 15. The difference between a madman and a fool is, that the former reasons justly from false data ; and the latter, errone- ously from just data. 16. He raised a mortal to the skies, She drew an angel down. Sometimes the antithesis is implied, as in the following instances. 17. The spirit of the white man's heaven, Forbids not thee to weep. 18. I shall enter on no encomiums upon Massachusetts. SIXTH READER. 37 EMPHASIS AND ACCENT. When words, which are the same in part of their for- mation, are contrasted, the emphasis is expressed by ac- centing the syllables in which they differ. See Accent, page 33. EXABIPLES. 1. What is the difference between probability and joo^sibility ? 2. Learn to wnlearn what you have learned amiss. 3. John attends re^rularly, William, n-regularly. 4. There is a great difference between giving and /orgiving. 5. The conduct of Antoninus was characterized by justice and humanity; that of Nero, by i?!Justice and tnhumanity. 6. The conduct of the former is deserving of approbation, while that of the latter merits the severest rejarobation. EMPHASIS AND INFLECTION. Emphasis sometimes changes the inflection from the ris- ing to the falling, or from the falling to the rising. For instances of the former change, see Rule II, and Exception 1 to Rule IV. In the first three following examples, the inflection is changed from the rising to the falling inflec- tion ; in the last three, it is changed from the falling to the rising, by the influence of emj)hasis. EXAMPLES. 1. If we have no regard for religion in youtli", we ought to have respect for it in age. 2. If we have no regard for our owti^ character, we ought to regard the character of others. 38 ECLECTIC SERIES. 3. If content can not remove^ the disquietudes of life, it will, at least, alleviate them. 4. The sweetest melody and the most perfect harmony fall powerless upon the ear of one who is deaf\ 5. It is useless to expatiate upon the beauties of nature to*" one who is blind\ 6. And they that have believing masters, let them not despise them, because th-^y are brethren^ ; but rather let them do them service. EMPHATIC PHRASE. When it is desired to give to a phrase great force of expression, each word, and even the parts of a comjwuud word, are independently emphasized. EXAMPLES. 1. Cassius. Must I endure all this? Brutus. All this ! — Ay, ^— more. Fret, till your proud — heart — break. 2. What ! weep you when you but behold Our Ceesar's vesture wounded ? Look ye here, Here is himself, marred, as you see, by traitors. 3. There was a time, my fellow-citizens, when the Lacedav monians were sovereign masters, both by sea and by land; while this state had not one ship — no, not — one — wall. 4. Shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul; and not only of the Alpine nations, but of the Alps themselves; shall I com- pare myself with this half — tear — captain ? 5. You call me misbeliever — cut-throat — dog. Hath a dog — money ? Is it possible — A cur can lend three — thousand — ducats f SIXTH READER. 39 EMPHATIC PAUSE. A short pause is often made before or after, and some- times both before and after, an emphatic word or phrase, — thus very much increasing the emphatic expression of the thought. EXAMPLES. 1. May one be pardoned, and retain — the offense? In the corrupted currents of this world, Offense's gilded hand may shove by — justice; And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself Buys out the law: but 'tis not so — above: There — is no shuffling: there — the action lies In its true nature. 2. He woke to hear his sentries shi'iek, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek I lie woke — to die — midst flame and smoke." 3. This — is no flattery : These — are counselors That feelingly persuade me wliat I am. 4. And this — our life, exempt from public, haunt, Finds tongues — in trees, books — in the running brooks, Sermons — in stones, and — good in every thing. 5. Heaven gave this Lyre, and thus decreed. Be thou a bruised — but not a broken — reed. IV. INSTRUCTIONS FOB READING VERSE. INFLECTIONS. In reading verse, the inflections should be nearly the same as in reading prose ; the chief difference is, that in poetry, the monotone and risiny inflection are more fre- 40 ECLECTIC SERIES. quently used than in prose. The greatest difficulty in reading this species of composition, consists in giving it that measured flow which distinguishes it from prose, with- out falling into a chantmg pronunciation. If, at any time, the reader is in doubt as to the proper inflection, let him reduce the passage to earnest conversa- tion, and pronounce it in the most familiar and prosaic manner, and thus he will generally use the proper inflection. EXERCISES IN rNFXiECTION. 1. Meanwhile the south wind rose, and with black wings Wide hovering^, all the clouds together drove From under heaven^: the hills to their supply^, Vapor and exhalation dusk and moist Sent up amain^: and now, the tliickened sky Like a dark ceiling stood^: down rushed the rain Impetuous^, and continued till the earth . No more was seen^: the floating vessel swam Uplifted^, and, secure with beaked prow'', Rode tilting o'er the waves^. 2. My friend^, adown life's valley', hand in hand', With grateful change of grave and merry speech Or song', ovir hearts unlocking each to each', We'll journey onward to the silent land\ And when stern death shall loose that loving band, Taking in his cold hand, a hand of ours'. The one shall strew the other's grave with flowers', Nor shall his heart a moment be unmanned\ My friend and brother' I if thou goest first', Wilt thou no more revisit me below'? Yea, when my heart seems happy causelessly', And swells', not dreaming why', my soul shall know That thou', unseen', art bending over me\ 3. Here rests his head upon the lap of earth', A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown^; Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth', And Melancholy marked him for her own\ SIXTH READER. 41 . Large was his bounty^, and his soul sincere^, Heaven did a recompense as largely send^; He gave to misery (all he had) a tear\ He gained from heaven^ ('t was all he wished^) a friend\ , No further seek his merits to disclose', Or draw his frailties from their dread abode'^; (There they alike' in trembling hope repose',) The bosom of his Father, and his God^. ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. In reading verse, every syllable must have the same accent, and every Avord the same emphasis as in prose; and whenever the melody or vmsic of the verse would lead to an incoirect accent or emphasis, this must be disregarded. If a poet has made his verse deficient in melody, this must not be remedied by the reader, at the expense of sense or the established rules of accent and quantity. Take the following: EXAMPLE. O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he rode, Of thrones, and mighty Seraphim ipvostrate. According to the metrical accent, the last word must be pronounced " pros-^rafe'." But according to the authorized pronunciation it is "^^ros'trate." Which shall yield, the poet or established usage? Certainly not the latter. Some writers advise a compromise of the matter, and that the word should be j^ronounced without accenting either syllable. Sometimes this may be done, but w^here it is not practiced, the prosaic reading should be preserved. In the following examples, the w'ords and syllables which are improperly accented or emphasized in the poetry, are 6.-4. 42 ECLECTIC SERIES. marked in italics. According to the principle stated above, the reader should avoid giving them that pronunciation which the correct reading of the poetry would require, but should read them as prose, except where he can throw ofi' all accent and thus compromise the conflict between the poetic reading and the correct reading. That is, he must read the poetry wrong, in order to read the language right. EXAMPLES. 1. Ask of thy mother earth why oaks are made Tallci- and stronger than the weeds they shade. 2. Their praise is still, " the style is excelleiit," The sense they humbly take upon content. 3. False eloquence, like (he prismatic glass, Its fairy colors spreads on every jilace. 4. To do aught good, never will be our task, But ever to do ill is our sole delight. 5. Of all the causes which combine to blind Man's erring judgment, a7id mislead the mind, What the weak head with strongest bias rules, Is pride, the never-failing vice of fools. 6. Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise. 7. To whom then, first incensed, Adam replied, "Is this thy love, is this the recompense Of mine to thee, ungrateful Eve?" 8. We may, with more successful hope, resolve To wage, by force or guile, successful war, Irreconcilable to our grand foe. Who now triumphs, and in excess of joy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven. 9. Which, when Beelzebub perceived (than whom, Satan except, none higher sat), with grave Aspect, he rose, and in his rising seemed A pillar of state. SIXTH READER. 43 10. Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, Nightly 1 visit: nor sometimes forget Those other two equaled with me in fate. Note. — Although it would be necessarj', in these examples, to violate the laws of accent or emphasis, to give perfect rhythm, yet a careful and well-trained reader will be able to observe these laws and still give the rhythm in such a manner that the defect will scai"cely be noticed. POETIC PAUSES. In order to make the measure of poetry perceptible to the ear, there should generally be a slight pause at the end of each line, even where the sense does not require it. There is, also, in almost every line of poetry, a pause at or near its middle, which is called the ceesura. This should, however, never be so placed as to injure the sense of the passage. It is indeed reckoned a great beauty, where it naturally coincides with the pause re- quired by the sense. The coesura, though generally placed near the middle, may be 2>lJiced at other intervals. There are sometimes, also, two additional pauses in each line, called demi-ca^suras. The caesura is marked (||), and the demi-ccesura thus, ( I ), in the examples given. There should be a marked accent upon the long syllable next preceding the caesura, and a slighter one upon that next before each of the demi-csesuras. When made too prominent, these pauses lead to a sing-song style, which should be carefidly avoided. In the following examples, the caesura is marked in each line; the demi-caesura is not marked in every case. 44 ECLECTIC SERIES. EXAMPLES. 1. Nature | to all things 1| fixed | the limits fit, And wisely | curbed || proud man's | pretending wit. 2. Then from his closing eyes || thy form shall pai't, And the last pang || shall tear thee from his heart. 3. Warms in the sun, || refreshes in the breeze, Glows in the stai's, || and blossoms in the trees. 4. There is a land || of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven || o'er all the world beside, Where brighter suns || dispense serener light, And milder moons || imparadise the night; Oh, thou slialt find, || howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land — thy country, || and that spot — thy home. 5. In slumbers | of midnight || the sailor | boy lay; His hammock | swung loose || at the sport | of the wind; But, watch-worn | and weary, || his cares | flew away. And visions | of happiness || danced | o'er his mind. 6. She said, | and struck; || deep entered ] in her side The piercing steel, || with reeking purple dyed: Clogged I in the wound |1 the cruel | weapon stands. The spouting blood || came streaming o'er her hands- Her sad attendants || saw the deadly stroke. And with loud cries || the sounding palace shook. SIMILE. Simile is the likening of any thing to another object of a different class; it is a poetical or imaginative comparison. SIXTH READER. 45 A simile, in poetry, should usually be read in a lower key and more rapidly than other parts of the passage — somewhat as a parenthesis is read. EXAMPLES. 1. Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form. As when, to warn proud cities, war appears, Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush To battl^ in the clouds. Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell, Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind. Hell scarce holds the wild uproar. As when Alcides felt the envenomed robe, and tore, Through pain, up by the roots, Thessalian pines. And Lichas from the top of (Eta threw Into the Euboic sea. 2. Each at the head, Leveled his deadly aim; their fatal hands No second stroke intend; and such a frown Each cast at th' other, as when two black clouds, With heaven s artillery fraught, came rolling on Over the Caspian, there stand front to front. Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow To join the dark encounter, in mid-air : So frowned the mighty combatants. 3. Then pleased and thankful from the porch they go, And, but the landlord, none had cause of woe: His cup was vanished; for, in secret guise, The younger guest purloined the glittering prize. As one who spies a serpent in his way. Glistening and basking in the summer ray. Disordered, stops to shun the danger near, Then walks with faintness or,, and looks with fear, — So seemed the sire, when, far upon the road, The shining spoil his wily partner showed. 46 ECLECTIC SERIES. Y. THE VOICE. PITCH AND COMPASS. The natural pitch of the voice is its key-note, or govern- ing note. It is that on which the voice usually dwells, and to which it most frequently returns when wearied. It is also the pitch used in conversation, and the one which a reader or speaker naturally adopts — when he reads or speaks — most easily and agreeably. The compass of the voice is its range above and below this pitch. To avoid monotony in reading or speaking, the voice should rise above or fall below this key-note, but always with reference to the sense or character of that which is read or spoken. The proper natural pitch is that above and below which there is most room for variation. To strengthen the voice and increase its compass, select a short sentence, repeat it several times in succession in as low a key as the voice can sound naturally; then rise one note higher, and practice on that key, then another, and so on, until the highest pitch of the voice has been reached. Next, reverse the process, until the lowest pitch has been reached. EXAMPLES IN PITCH. High Pitch. Note.— Be careful to distinguish p» gesture and action. Where the style is sharp and abrupt, there is propriety in quick, short, and abrupt gesticulation. Especially avoid that ungraceful sawing of the air with the arms, into which an ill-regulated fervor ■ betrays many young speakers. What is called a graceful manner, can only be attained by those who have some natural advantages of person. So far as it is in the reach of study or practice, it seems to depend chiefly upon the general cultivation of manners, implying freedom from all embarrassments, and entire self- possession. The secret of acquiring a graceful style of gesture, Ave apprehend, lies in the habitual practice, not only when speaking but at all times, of free and graceful movements of the limbs. There is no limb nor feature which the accomplished speaker will not employ with effect, in the course of a various and animated delivery. The arms, however, are the chief reliance of the orator in gesture; and it will not be amiss to give a hint or two in reference to their proper use. First — It is not an uncommon fault to use one arm exclusively, and to give that a uniform movement. Such movement may, sometimes, have become habitual from one's profession or employment; but in learners, also, there is often a predisposition to this fault. Second — It is not unusual to see a speaker use only the lower half of his arm. This always gives a stiff" and constrained manner to delivery. Let the whole arm move, and let the movement be free and flowing. SIXTH BEADEB. 57 Third — As a general rule, let the hand be open, with the fingers slightly curved. It then seems liberal, com- municative, and candid; and, in some degree, gives that expression to the style of delivery. Of course there are passages Avhich require the clinched hand, the pointed finger, etc., etc.; but these are used to give a particular expression. FouHh — In the movements of the arm, study variety and the grace of curved lines. When a gesture is made with one arm only, the eye should be cast in the direction of that arm; not at it, but over it. All speakers employ, more or less, the motions of the head. In reference to that member, we make but one observation. Avoid the continuous shaking and bobbing of the head, which is so conspicuous in the action of many ambitious public speakers. The beauty and force of all gesture consist in its timely, judicious, and natural employment, when it can serve to illustrate the meaning or give emphasis to the force of an important passage. The usual fault of young speakers is too much action. To emphasize all parts alike, is equivalent to no emphasis; and by employing forcible gestures on unimportant passages, we diminish our power to render other parts impressive. ELOCUTION AND READING. The business of training youth in elocution, must be commenced in childhood. The first school is the nursery. There, at least, may be formed a distinct articulation, which is the first requisite for good speaking. How rarely is it found in perfection among our orators. 68 ECLECTIC SERIES. Words, says one, referring to articulation, should "be delivered out from the lijjs, as beautiful coins, newly issued from the mint; deeply and accurately impressed, perfectly finished; neatly struck by the proper organs, distinct, in due succession, and of due weight." How rarely do we hear a speaker whose tongue, teeth, and lips, do their office so perfectly as to answer to this beautiful description ! And the common faults in articulation, it should be remembered, take their rise from the very nursery. Grace in eloquence, in the pulpit, at the bar, can not be separated from grace in the ordinary manners, in private life, in the social circle, in the family. It can not well be superinduced upon all the other acquisitions of youth, any more than that nameless, but invaluable, quality called good-breeding. Begin, therefore, the work of form- ing the orator with the child; not merely by teaching him to declaim, but what is of more consequence, by observing and correcting his daily manners, motions, and attitudes. You can say, when he comes into your apartment, or presents you with something, a book or letter, in an awkward and blundering manner, "Return, and enter this room again," or, "Present me that book in a differ- ent manner," or, " Put yourself in a different attitude." You can explain to hirii the difference between thrusting or pushing out his hand and arm, in straight lines and at acute angles, and moving them in flowing circular lines, and easy graceful action. He will readily under- stand you. Nothing is more true than that the motions of children are originally graceful; it is by suffering them to be perverted, that we lay the foundation of invincible awkwardness in later life. In schools for children, it ought to be a leading object to teach the art of reading. It ought to occupy threefold more time than it does. The teachers of these schools should labor to improve themselves. They should feel that to them, for a time, are committed the future orators of the land. SIXTH READEB. 59 It is better that a girl should return from school a first- rate reader, than a first-rate performer on the piano-forte. The accomplishment, in its perfection, would give more pleasure. The voice of song is not sweeter than the voice of eloquence; and there may be eloquent readers, as well as eloquent speakers. We speak of 'perfection in this art : and it is something, we must say in defense of our prefer- ence, which we have never yet seen. Let the same pains be devoted to reading, as are required to form an accom- plished performer on an instrument; let us have, as the ancients had, the formers of the voice, the music-masters of the reading voice; let us see years devoted to this accomplishment, and then we should be prepared to stand the comparison. Reading is, indeed, a most intellectual accomplishment. So is music, too, in its perfection. We do by no means undervalue this noble and most delightful art, to which Socrates aj)plied himself even in his old age. But one recommendation of the art of reading is, that it requires a constant exercise of mind. It involves, in its perfection, the whole art of criticism on language. A man may pos- sess a fine genius without being a perfect reader; but he can not be a perfect reader without genius. ON MODULATION. From Lloyd. 'T is not enough the voice^ be sound and clear^, 'T is modulation'' that must charm the ear. When desperate heroes grieve with tedious moan, And whine their sorrows in a see-saw tone, The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes. Can only make the yawning hearers doze. 60 ECLECTIC SERIES. The voice all modes of passion can express, That marks the proper word with proper stress: But none emphatic can that speaker call, Who lays an equal emphasis on all. Some o'er the tongue the labored measure roll, Slow and- deliberate as the parting toll ; Point every stop, mark every pause so strong, Their words like stage processions stalk along. All affectation but creates disgust; And e'en in speaking, we may seem too just. In vain;; for them'^_ the pleasing measure flows, Whose recitation runs it all to prose; Repeating what the poet sets not down, V The verb disjointing from its favorite noun, X" While pause, and break, and repetition join To make a discord in each tuneful line^. Some'' placid natures fill the allotted scene With lifeless drawls, insipid and serene; While other/ thunder every couplet o'er, And almost crack your ears with rant and roar; More nature oft, and finer strokes are shown In the low whisjaer than tempestuous tone; And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze, More powerful terror to the mind conveys Than he, who, swollen with impetuous rage, Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage. He who, in earnest, studies o'er his part, Will find true nature cling about his heart. The modes of grief are not included all In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl: A single loolc' more marks the internal woe. Than all the windings of the lengthened Oh> I MCGUFFET'S SIXTH READER. MCQUFFET'S SIXTH READER SELECTIONS FOR READING. I. ANECDOTE OF THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE. A LAUGHABLE story was circulated during the admin- istration of tlie old Duke of Newcastle, and retailed to the public in various forms. This nobleman, with many- good points, was remarkable for being profuse of his prom- ises on all occasions, and valued himself particularly, on being able to anticijDate the words or the wants of the va- rious persons who attended his levees, before they uttered a word. This sometimes led him into ridiculous embarrass- ments; and it was this proneness to lavish jiromises, which gave occasion for the following anecdote. At the election of a certain borough in Cornwall, where the opposite interests were almost equally poised, a single vote was of the highest importance. This object the Duke, by weP. applied argument and personal api^lication, at length attained; and the gentleman he recommended, gained the election. In the warmth of gratitude, his grace poured forth acknowledgments and promises without ceas- ing, on the fortunate possessor of the casting vote; called (63) g4 ECLECTIC SERIES. him his best and dearest friend ; protested, that he should consider himself as forever indebted to him ; and that he would serve him by night or by day. The Cornish voter, who was an honest fellow, and would not have thought himself entitled to any reward, but for such a torrent of acknowledgments, thanked the Duke for his kindness, and told him the supervisor of excise was old and infirm, and, if he would have the goodness to recommend his son-in-law to the commissioners, in case of the old man's death, he should think himself and his family bound to render his grace every assistance in their power, on any future occasion. " My dear friend, why do you ask for such a trifling employment?" exclaimed his grace; "your relative shall have it the moment the place is vacant, if you Avill but call my attention to it." "But how shall I get admitted to you, my lord? For in London, I understand, it is a very difficult business to get a sight of you great folks, though you are so kind and complaisant to us in the country." " The instant the man dies," replied the Duke, " set out post-haste for London; drive dii'ectly to my house, and, be it by night or by day, thunder at the door; I will leave word with my porter to show you im' stafes directly ; and the employment shall be disposed of accord- ing to your wishes.';. ,^ , ^ ^^ The parties separated ; the Duke drove to a friend's house in the neighborhood, without a wish Or desii'e to see his new acquaintance till that day seven years; blit the memory of a Cornigh elector, not being ^burdened with such a variety of objects, was more retentive. The sui^fr- visor died a few mouths after, and the Duke's humble friend, lelying on the word of a peer, was conveyed !o London post-haste, and ascended ^vith alacrity the steps of that nobleman's palace. The reader sliould be informed, that just at this time, SIXTH READER. 65 no less a person than the King of Spain was expected houi-ly to depart this life, — an event in which the minister of Great Britain was particularly concerned; and the Duke of Newcastle, on the very night that the jDroprietor of the decisive vote arrived at his door, had sat up anxiously expecting dispatches from Madrid. Wearied- by official busii^ess and ^agitated spirits, lie rfe'tired to rest, having previously given particular instructions to his porter not to go to bed, as he expected every minute a messenger with ^. advices of the greatest importance, and, desired that he L^'" inight be shown up stairs, the moment of his arrival. His grfice wa'^ goiind asleepi ; and the porter, settled for the night in his arm-chair, had already commenced a sonorous nap, when the vigorous arm of the Cornish voter roused him from his slumbers. To his first question, "Is the Duke at home?" the porter replied, "Yes, and in bed; but has left particular orders that, come when you will, you are to go up to him directly." "Bless him, for a worthy and honest gentleman," cried our applicant for the vacant post, smilmg and nodding with approbation at the prime minister's kindness, " how punctual his grace is; I knew he Avould not deceive nie; let me hear no more of lords and dukes not keeping their words ; I verily believe they are as honest, and mean as well as any other folks." Having ascended the stairs as he was speaking, he was ushered into the Duke's bed- chamber. "Is he dead?" exclaimed his grace, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awakened from dreaming of the King of Spain, "Is he dead?" "Yes, my lord," replied the eager expectant, delighted to find the election promise, with all its circumstances, so fresh in the nobleman's memory, "When did he die?" "The day before yesterday, exactly at half paefc one o'clock, after being confined thi'ee weeks to his bed, and 6.-»6. Q6 ECLECTIC SERIES. taking a poioer of doctor's stuff; and I hojie your grace will be as good as your word, and let my son-in-law succeed him." The Duke, by this time perfectly awake, was stag- gered at the impossibility of receiving intelligence from Madrid in so short a space of time; and perplexed at the absurdity of a king's messenger applying for his son-in-law to succeed the King of Spain: "Is the man drunk, or mad? Where are your dispatches?" exclaimed his grace, hastily drawing back his curtain ; where, instead of a royal courier, he recognized at the bedside, the fat, good-humored countenance of his friend from Cornwall, making low bows, with hat in hand, and "hoping my lord would not forget the gracious promise he was so good as to make, in favor of his son-in-law, at the last election." Vexed at so untimely a disturbance, and disappointed of news from Spain, the Duke frowned for a moment ; but chagrin soon gave way to mirth, at so singular and ridicu- lous a combination of circumstances, and, yielding to the impulse, he sunk upon the bed in a violent fit of laughter, which Avas communicated in a moment to the attendants. The relater of this little narrative, concludes, with ob- serving, "Although the Duke of Newcastle could not place the relative of his old acquaintance on the throne of His Catholic Majesty, he advanced him to a post not less honor- able — he made him an exciseman." — Blackwood 's Maqazine. Notes. — Duke of Ne"W"castle. — Thomas Holies Pelham (b. 1693, d. 1768), one of the chief ministers of state in the reign of George II. of England. Cornwall. — A county forming the extreme southwestern part of England. King of Spain. — Ferdinand VI. was then the king of Spain. He died in 1759. His Catholic Majesty, a title applied to the kings of Spain; first given to Alfonso I. by Pope Gregory III. in 739. SIXTH READER. 67 II. THE NEEDLE. The gay belles of fashion may boast of excelling In waltz or cotillon, at whist or quadrille ; And seek admiration by vauntingly telling Of drawing, and 2)ainting, and musical skill : But give me the fair one, in country or city. Whose home and its duties are dear to her heart. Who cheerfully warbles some rustical ditty, While plying the needle with exquisite art: The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle, The needle directed by beauty and art. If Love have a i^otent, a magical token, A talisman, ever resistless and true, A charm that is never evaded or broken, A witchery certain the heart to subdue, ' T is this ; and his armory never has furnished So keen and unerring, or polished a dart ; Let beauty direct it, so polished and burnished. And oh! it is certain of touching the heart: The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle, The needle directed by beauty and art. Be wise, then, ye maidens, nor seek admiration, By dressing for conquest, and flirting with all ; You never, whate'er be your fortune or station, Appear half so lovely at rout or at ball. As gayly convened at the work-covered table, Each cheerfully active, playing her j)art, Beguiling the task with a song or a fable, And plying the needle with exquisite art : The bright little needle, the swift-flying needle, The needle directed by beauty and art. — Samuel Woodworth. 68 ECLECTIC SERIES. III. DAWN. Edward Everett, 1794-18G5. He was born at Dorchester, Mass., now a part of Boston, and graduated from Harvard College with the highest honors of his class, at the age of seventeen. While yet in college, he had quite a reputation as a brilliant writer. Before he was twenty yeai-s of age, he was settled as pastor over the Brattle Street Church, in Boston, and at once became famous as an eloquent preacher. In 1814, he was elected Professor of Greek Literature in his Alma Muter; and, in order to prepare himself for the duties of his ofHce, he entered on an extended course of travel in Europe. He edited the " North American Review," in addition to the labors of his professorship, after he returned to America. In 182.5, Mr. Everett was elected to Congress, and held his seat in the House for ten years. He was Governor of his native state from 1835 to -1839. In 1841, he was appointed Minister to England. On his return, in 1846, he was chosen President of Harvard University, and held the office for three years. In 1852, he was appointed Secretary of State. February 22, 1856, he delivered, in Boston, his celebrated lecture on Washington. This lecture was afterwards delivered in most of the prin- cipal cities and towns in the United States. The proceeds were devoted to the purchase of Mt. Vernon. In 1800, he was a candidate for the Vice-presidency of the United States. He is celebrated as an elegant and forcible writer, and a chaste orator. This extract, a wonderful piece of word-painting, is a portion of an address on the " Uses of Astronomy," delivered at the inauguration of the Dudley Observatory, at Albany, N. Y. Note the careful use of words, and the strong figures in the third and fourth paragraphs. I HAD occasion, a few weeks siiice, to take the early train from Providence to Boston ; and for this purpose rose at two o'clock in the morning. Every thing around was wrapped in darkness and hushed in silence, broken only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly clank and rush of the train. It was a mild, serene, midsummer's night, — the sky was without a cloud, the winds were whist. The moon, then ui the last quarter, had just risen, and the stars shoiie with a spectral luster but little affected by her presence. Jupiter, two hours high, was the herald of the day ; the Pleiades, just above the horizon, shed their sweet influ- ence in the east; Lyra sparkled near the zenith; Androm- eda veiled her newly-discovered glories from the naked eye in the south; the steady Pointers, far beneath the pole, SIXTH BEADER. 69 looked meekly up from the depths of the north to their sovereign. Such Avas the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As we i>roceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more i^erceptible ; the intense blue of the sky began to soften; the smaller stars, like little children, Avent first to rest; the sister-beams of the Pleiades soon melted together; but the bright constellations of the west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the wondrous transfiguration went on. Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved into the glories of the dawn. The blue sky now turned more softly gray; the great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes; the east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky; the whole celestial concave was filled with the inflow- ing tides of the morning light, which came jDOuring down from above in one great ocean of radiance; till at length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purj)le fire blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy tear- drops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds, the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began his state. I do not wonder at the superstition of the ancient Ma- gians, Avho, in the morning of the world, went up to the hill-tops of Central Asia, and, ignorant of the true God, adored the most glorious work of his hand. But I am filled with amazement, when I am told, that, in this en- lightened age and in the heart of the Cliristian world, there are persons who can witness this daily manifestation of the power and wisdom of the Creator, and yet say in their he'arts, "There is no God." Notes. — Jupiter, the largest planet of the solar system, and, next to Venus, the brightest. Pleiades (pro. ple'ya-dez), a group of seven small stars in the constellation of Taurus. 70 ECLECTIC SERIES. Lyra, Androm'eda, two brilliant constellations in the north- ern part of the heavens. Pointers, two stars of the group called the Dipper, in the Great Bear. These stars and the Polar Star are nearly in the same straight line. Blue Hills, hills about seven hundred feet high, southwest of Boston, Massachusetts. Magians, Persian worshipers of fire and the sun, as rep- resentatives of the Supreme Being. IV. DESCRIPTION OF A STORM. Benjamin Disraeli, 1«U5-1881, is of Jewi-sh descent. His ancestors were di-iven out of Spain by the Inquisition, and went to Venice. In 1748, his grandfatlier came to England. His father was Isaac Disraeli, well known as a literary man. Benjamin was born in London, and received his early education under his father. He afterwards studied for a lawyer, but soon gave up his profession for literature. His first novel, " Vivian Grey," appeared when the author was twenty-one years of age ; it received much attention. After .sevei'al defeats he succeeded in an election to Parliament, and took his seat in that body, in the first year of Victoria's reign. On his first attempt to speak in Parlia- ment, the House refused to hear him. It is said that, as he sat down, he remarked that the time would come when they would hear him. In 1849, he became the leader of the Conservative party in the House. During the administration of W. E. Gladstone, Mr. Disraeli was leader of the opposition. In 1868, he became prime minister, holding the office for a short time. In 1874, he was again appointed to the same office, where he remained until 1880. His wife was made Viscountess of Bea- consfield in 1868. After her death, the title of Earl of Beaeousfield was conferred on Disraeli. He ranked among the most eminent statesmen of the age, but always devoted a portion of his time to literature. " Lotliair," a novel, was published in 1870. * * * They looked round on every side, and hope gave way before the scene of desolation. Immense branches were shivered from the largest trees; small ones were en- tirely stripped of their leaves; the long grass was bowed to the earth; the waters were whirled in eddies out of the little rivulets; birds, leaving their nests to seek shelter in the crevices of the rocks, unable to stem the driving air, flapped their wings and fell upon the earth; the frightened animals of the plain, almost suffocated by the impetuosity SIXTH READER. 71 of the wind, sought safety aud found destruction; some of the largest trees were torn up by the roots; the sluices of the mountains were filled, and innumerable torrents rushed down the before empty gullies. The heavens now open, and the lightning aud thunder contend with the horrors of the wind. In a moment, all was again hushed. Dead silence suc- ceeded the bellow of the thunder, the roar of the wind, the rush of the waters, the moaning of the beasts, the screaming of the birds. Nothing was heard save the plash of the agitated lake, as it beat up agaiust the black rocks which girt it in. Again, greater darkness enveloped the trembling earth. Anon, the heavens were rent with lightning, which nothing could have quenched but the descending deluge. Cataracts poured down from the lowering firmament. For an instant, the horses dashed madly forward; beast and rider blinded and stifled by the gushing rain, and gasping for breath. Shelter was nowhere. The quivering beasts reared, and snorted, aud sank upon their knees, dismounting their riders. He had scarcely spoken, when there burst forth a ter- rific noise, they knew not what; a rush, they could not understand; a vibration which shook them on their horses. Every terror sank before the roar of the cataract. It seemed that the mighty mountain, unable to support its weight of waters, shook to the foundation. A lake had burst upon its summit, and the cataract became a falling ocean. The source of the great deep appeared to be discharging itself over the range of mountains; the great gray peak tottered on its foundation! — It shook! — it fell! and buried in its ruins the castle, the village, and the bridffe ! 72 ECLECTIC SERIES. V. AFTER THE THUNDER-STORM. James Thomson, 1700-1748, the son of a clergyman, was born in Scotland. He studied at the University of Edinburgh, and intended to follow the profession of his father, but never entered upon the duties of the sacred office. In 1724 he went to London, where he spent most of his subsequent life. He had shown some poetical talent when a boy ; and, in 1826, lie published " Winter," a part of a longer poem, en- titled "The Seasons," the best-known of all his works. He also wrote several plays for the stage; none of tliem, however, achieved any great success. In the last year of his life, he published his " Castle of Indo- lence," the most famous of his works excepting " The Seasons." Thom- son was heavy and dull in his personal appearance, and was indolent in his habits. The moral tone of his writings is always good. This extract is from " The Seasons." As from the face of heaven the shattered clouds Tumultuous rove, the interminable sky Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands A purer azure. Through the lightened air A higher luster and a clearer calm, Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, Set off abundant by the yellow ray, Invests the fields; and nature smiles revived. 'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, Joined to the low of kine, and numerous bleat Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clovered vale: And shall the hymn be marred by thankless man, Most favored; who, with voice articulate. Should lead the chorus of this lower world? Shall man, so soon forgetful of the Hand That hushed the thunder, and serenes tlie sky. Extinguished feel that spark the tempest waked, That sense of powers exceeding far his own, Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears? SIXTH BEABEB. 73 VI. HOUSE-CLEANING. Francis Hopkinson, 1737-1791. He was the son of an Englishman; was born in Philadelphia, and was educated at the college of that city, now the University of Pennsylvania. He repi'eseuted New Jersey in the Congress of 1776, and was one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He was one of the most sensible and elegant writers of his time, and distinguished himself both in prose and verse. His lighter writings abound in humor and keen satire; his more solid writings are marked by clearness and good sense. His pen did much to forward the cause of American independence. His " Essay on White- washing," from which the following extract is taken, was mistaken for the composition of Dr. Franklin, and published among his writings. It was originally in the form of "A Letter from a Gentleman in America to his Friend in Europe, on Whitewashing." Tht;ee is no season of the year in which the lady may not, if she pleases, claim her privilege; but the latter end of May is generally fixed upon for the purpose. The at- tentive husband may judge, by certain prognostics, when the storm is at hand. If the lady grows uncommonly fretful, finds fault with the servants, is discontented with the children, and complains much of the naetiness of every thing about her, these are symptoms which ought not to be neglected, yet they sometimes go off" without any further effect. But if, when the husband rises in the morning, he should observe in the yard a wheel-barrow with a quantity of lime in it, or should see certain buckets filled with a solution of lime in water, there is no time for hesitation. He immediately locks up the af)artment or closet where his papers and private property are kept, and, putting the key in his pocket, betakes himself to flight. A husband, however beloved, becomes a perfect nuisance during this season of female rage. His authority is superseded, his commission suspended, and the very scullion who cleans the brasses in the kitchen becomes of more importance than he. He has nothing for it but to abdicate for a time, and run from an evil which he can neither prevent nor molHfy. 6.-7. 74 ECLECTIC SEBIES. The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The walls are strip^Ded of their furniture — paintings, prints, and look- ing-glasses lie huddled in heaps about the floors; the cur- tains are torn from their testers, the beds crammed into windows, chairs and tables, bedsteads and cradles, crowd the yard, and the garden fence bends beneath the weight of carpets, blankets, cloth cloaks, old coats, under petti- coats, and ragged breeches. Here may be seen the lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused mass for the foreground of the picture ; gridirons and frying-pans, rusty shovels and broken tongs, joint stools, and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed chairs. There a closet has dis- gorged its bowels — ^riveted plates and dishes, halves of china bowls, cracked tumblers, broken wine-glasses, phials of forgotten physic, papers of unknown powders, seeds and dried herbs, tops of tea-pots, and stoppers of departed decanters — from the rag-hole in the garret, to the rat-hole in the cellar, no place escapes um-ummaged. It would seem as if the day of general doom had come, and the utensils of the house were dragged forth to judgment. In this tempest, the words of King Lear unavoidably present themselves, and might, with little alteration, be made strictly applicable. " Let the great gods, That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads, Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch, That hast within thee undivulged crimes Unwhipp'd of justice. Close pent-up guilts, Rive j'^our concealing continents, and cry These dreadful summoners grace." This ceremony completed, and the house thoroughly evacuated, the next operation is to smear the walls and ceilings with brushes dipped into a solution of hme, called whitewash; to pour buckets of water over every floor; and scratch all the partitions and wainscots with hard brushes, charged with soft-soap and stone-cutters' sand. SIXTH READER. ' 15 The windows by no means escape the general deluge. A servant scrambles out upon the pent-house, at the risk of her neck, and, with a mug in her hand and a bucket within reach, dashes innumerable gallons of water against the glass j^anes, to the great annoyance of passengers in the street. I have been told that an action at law Avas once brought against one of these water nymphs, by a person who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by this operation : but after long argument, it was determined that no dam- ages coidd be awarded ; inasmuch as the defendant was in the exercise of a legal right, and not answerable for the consequences. And so the poor gentleman was doubly non- suited ; for he lost both his suit of clothes and his suit at law. These smearings and scratchings, these washings and dashings, being duly performed, the next ceremonial is to cleanse and replace the distracted furniture. You may have seen a house-raising, or a- ship launch — recollect, if you can, the hurry, bustle, confusion, and noise of such a scene, and you will have some idea of this cleans- ing match. The misfortune is, that the sole object is to make things clean. It matters not how many useful, or- namental, or valuable articles suffer mutilation or death under the operation. A mahogany chair and a carved frame undergo the same discipline; they are to be made clean at all events; but their preservation is not worthy of attention. For instance: a fine large engraving is laid flat upon the floor ; a number of smaller j^rints are piled upon it, until the superincumbent weight cracks the lower glass^ — but this is of no importance. A valuable picture is placed leaning against the sharp corner of a table ; others are made to lean against that, till the pressure of the whole forces the corner of the table through the canvas of the first. The frame and glass of a fine print are to be 76 ECLECTIC SERIES. cleaned ; the spirit and oil used on this occasion are suf- fered to leak through and deface the engraving — no matter, li the glass is clean and the frame shines, it is suflBcient — the rest is not worthy of consideration An able arithme- tician hath made a calculation, founded on long experi- ence, and proved that the losses and destruction incident to two whitewashings are equal to one removal, and three removals equal to one fire. This cleansing frolic over, matters begin to resume their pristine appearance : the storm abates, and all would be well again: but it is impossible that so great a convul- sion in so small a community should pass over without producing some consequences. For two or three weeks after the operation, the fiimily are usually afflicted with sore eyes, sore throats, or severe colds, occasioned by ex- halations from wet floors and damp walls. I know a gentleman, here, who is fond of accounting for every thing in a philosophical way. He considers this, what I call a custom, as a real periodical disease peculiar to the climate. His train of reasoning is whimsical and ingenious, but I am not at leisure to give you the detail. The result was, that he found the distemper to be incur- able ; but after much study, he thought he had discovered a method to divert the evil he could not subdue. For this purpose, he caused a small building, about twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and furnished with some ordinary chairs and tables, and a few prints of the cheapest sort. His hope was, that when the whitewashing frenzy seized the females of his family, they might repair to this apartment, and scrub, and scour, and smear to their hearts' content ; and so spend the violence of the disease in this outpost, whilst he enjoyed himself in quiet at headquarters. But the experiment did not answer his expectation. It was impossible it should, since a principal part of the gratification consists in the lady's having an uncontrolled right to torment her husband at least once SIXTH BEADER. 77 in every year; to turn him out of doors, and take the reins of government into her own hands. There is a much better contrivance than this of the philosopher's; Avhicli is, to cover the walls of the house with paper. This is generally done. And though it does not abolish, it at least shortens the jieriod of female do- minion. This paper is decorated with various fancies; and made so ornamental that the W'omen have admitted the fashion without perceiving the design. There is also another alleviation to the husband's dis- tres;^ He generally has the sole use of a small room or closet for his books and papers, the key of which he is alloAved to keep. This is considered as a privileged place, even in the whitewashing season, and stands like the land of Goshen amidst the plagues of Egypt. But then he must be extremely cautious, and ever upon his guard ; for, should he inadvertently go abroad and leave the key in his door, the house-maid, who is always on the watch for such an opportunity, immediately enters in triumph, with buckets, brooms, and brushes — takes posses- sion of the premises, and forthwith puts all his books and papers " to rights," to his utter confusion, and sometimes serious detriment. Notes. — Lear. — The reference is to Shakespeare's tragedy, Act III, Scene 2. Groshen. — The joovtion of E^jqot settled by Jacob and his family. In the Bible, Exodus viii, 22, Goshen was exempted from the plague of the flies. The teacher should ascertain that the pupils note the satire and humor of this selection. This letter was written about a hundred years ago. What word in the first paragraph that would probably not be used by an elegant writer of the jjresent day? Note the words that indicate changes in domestic customs; such as testers, joint stools, wainscots, house-raising. 78 ECLECTIC SERIES. VII. SCHEMES OF LIFE OFTEN ILLUSORY. Samuel Johnson, 1709-1784. This truly remarkable man was the Bon of a book-seller and stationer; he was born in Lichfield, Stafford- shire, England. He entered Pembroke College, Oxford, in 1728; but, at the end of three years, his poverty compelled him to leave without tak- ing his degree. In 1736, he married Mrs. Porter, a widow of little cult- ure, much older than himself, but possessed of some property. The niarrlage seems to have been a happy one, nevertheless; and, on the death of his wife, in 1752; Johnson mourned for her most sincerely. Soon after his marriage, he opened a private school, but obtained only three pupils, one of whom was David Garrick, afterward the celebrated actor. In 1737, he removed to London, where he lived for most of the remainder of his life. Here he entered upon literary work, in which he continued, and from which he derived his chief support, altliough at times it was but a meager one. His " Vanity of Human "Wishes " was sold for ten guineas. His great Dictionary, the first one of the English language worthy of mention, brought him £1575, and occupied his time for seven years. !Most of the money he received for the work went to pay his six amanuenses. The otiier most famous of his numerous lit- erary works are " The Rambler," " Ra.sselas," " Tlic Lives of tlie English Poets,'" rmd his edition of Shakespeare. In pei"son, Johnson wius heavy and awkward ; he was the victim of scrofula in his youth, and of dropsy in his old age. In manner, he was boorish and overbearing; but his great powers and his wisdom caused his company to be sought by many eminent men of his time. Omak, the son of Hassan, had passed seventy-five years in honor and j^rosperity. The favor of three successive caliplis had filled his house with gold and silver; and whenever he appeared, the benedictions of the peojjle pro- claimed his passage. Terrestrial hapj^iness is of short continuance. The bright- ness of the flame is wasting its fuel; the fragi'ant flower is passing away in its own odors. The vigor of Omar began to fail ; the curls of beauty fell from his head ; strength departed from his hands, and agility from his feet. He gave back to the caliph the keys of trust, and the seals of secrecy; and sought no other pleasure for the remainder of life than the converse of the wise and the gratitude of the good. The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His cham- ber was filled by visitants, eager to catch the dictates of SIXTH READER. 79 experience, and officious to pay the tribute of admiration. Caleb, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, entered every day early, and retired late. He was beautiful and eloquent: Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility. "Tell me," said Caleb, "thou to whose voice na.tions have listened, and whose wisdom is known to the extremi- ties of Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent? The arts by which thou hast gained power and preserved it, are to thee no longer necessary or useful; im2)art to me the secret of thy conduct, and teach me the plan upon which thy wisdom has built thy fortune." "Young man," said Omar, "it is of little use to form plans of life. When I took my first survey of the world, in my twentieth year, having considered the various condi- tions of mankind, in the hour of solitude I said thus to myself, leaning against a cedar which spread its branches over my head : ' Seventy years are allowed to man ; I have yet fifty remaining. "'Ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowl- edge, and ten I will jiass in foreign countries; I shall be learned, and therefore I shall be honored; every city will shout at my arrival, and every student will solicit my friendshi]). Twenty years thus passed will store my mind with images Avhich I shall be busy through the rest of my life in combining and comparing. I shall revel in inexhaustible accumulations of intellectual riches; I shall find new j)leasures for every moment, and shall never more be weary of myself. "'I will not, however, deviate too far from the beaten track of life; but will try what can be found in female delicacy. I will marry a Avife as beautiful as the houries, and wise as Zobeide ; and Avith her I will live twenty years within the suburbs of Bagdad, in every pleasure that wealth can purchase, and fancy can invent. "'I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pass my days in obscurity and contemplation ; and lie silently down 80 ECLECTIC SERIES. on the bed of death. Through my life it shall he my settled resolution, that I will never depend on the smile of princes; that I Avill never stand exposed to the artifices of courts; I will never pant for public honors, nor disturb my quiet with the affairs of state.' Such was my scheme of life, which I impressed indelibly upon my memory. "The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of knowledge, and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no visible impediments without, nor any ungovernable passion within. I regarded knowledge as the highest honor, and the most engaging pleasure; yet day stole upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that seven years of the first ten had vanished, and left nothing behind them. "I now postponed my purpose of traveling; for why should I go abroad, while so much remained to be learned at home? I immured myself for four years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached the judges: I was found able to speak upon doubtful ques- tions, and I was commanded to stand at the footstool of the caliph. I was heard with attention; I was consulted with confidence, and the love of praise fastened on my heart. * ' I still wished to see distant countries ; listened with rapture to the relations of travelers, and resolved some time to ask my dismission, that I might feast my soul with novelty; but my presence was always necessary, and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes, I was afraid lest I should be charged with ingratitude ; but I still proposed to travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage. " In my fiftieth year, I began to suspect that the time of my traveling was past; and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, and indulge myself in domestic pleasures. But, at fifty, no man easily finds a woman beautiful as the houries, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired and rejected, consulted and deUberated, tiD the SIXTH READER. 81 sixty-second year made me ashamed of wishing to marry. I had now nothing left but retirement; and for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from public employment. "Such was my scheme, and such has been its con- sequence. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled away the years of improvement; Avith a restless desire of seeing different countries, I have always resided in the same city; with the highest expectation of connu- bial felicity, I have lived unmarried ; and with an unalter- able resolution of contemplative retirement, I am going to die within the walls of Bagdad." Notes. — Baghdad. — A large city of Asiatic Turkey, on the river Tigris. In the nintli century, it was the greatest center of Moslem power and learning. Zobeide (Zo-bad^). — A lady of Bagdad, whose story is given in the "Three Calendars" of the "Arabian Nights." In this selection the form of an allegory is used to express a general truth. VIII. THE BRAVE OLD OAK. Henry Fothergill Chorley, 1S08-1872. He is known chiefly as a masical critic and autlior ; for tliirty-eiglit years lie was connected witti the 'London Atlienceum." His boolis are mostly novels. « A SONG to the oak, the brave old oak. Who hath ruled in the greenwood long; Here 's health and renown to his broad green crown, And his fifty arms so strong. There's fear in his frown, when the sun goes down. And the fire in the west fades out; And he showeth his might on a wild midnight, When the storms through his branches shout. 82 ECLECTIC SERIES. lu the days of old, when the spring with cold Had brightened his branches gray, Through the grass at his feet, crept maidens sweet. To gather the dews of May. And on that day, to the rebec gay They frolicked with lovesome swains; They are gone, they are dead, in the church-yard laid, But the ti'ee — it still remains. He saw rare times Avhen the Christmas chimes Were a merry sound to hear, When the Squire's wide hall and the cottage small Were filled with good English cheer. Now gold hath the sway we all obey, And a ruthless king is he; But he never shall send our ancient friend To be tossed on the stormy sea. Then here 's to the oak, the brave old oak, Who stands in his pride alone; And still flourish he, a hale green tree. When a hundred years are gone. rX. THE ARTIST SURPRISED. It may not be known to all the admirers of the genius of Albert Diirer, that that famous engraver was endowed with a " better half," so peevish in temper, that she was the torment not only of his own life, but also of his pupils and domestics. Some of the former were cimning enough to purchase peace for themselves by conciliating the com- mon tyrant, but woe to those unwilling or unable to ofler aught in propitiation. Even the wiser ones were spared only by having their offenses visited upon a scape-goat. SIXTH READER. 83 This unfortunate individual was Samuel Duhobret, a disciple whom Diirer had admitted into his school out of charity. He was employed in painting signs and the coarser tajDestry then used in Germany. He was about forty years of age, little, ugly, and humpbacked; he was the butt of every ill joke among his fellow disciples, and was picked out as an object of especial dislike by Madame Diirer. But he bore all with patience, and ate, without complaint, the scanty crusts given him every day for dinner, while his companions often fared sumptuously. Poor Samuel had not a spice of envy or malice in his heart. He would, at any time, have toiled half the night to assist or serve those who were Avont oftenest to laugh at him, or abuse him loudest for his stupidity. True, he had not the qualities of social humor or wit, but he was an example of indefatigable industry. He came to his studies every morning at day-break, and remained at work until sunset. Then he retired into his lonely cham- ber, and wrought for his own amusement. Duhobret labored three years in this w^ay, giving him- self no time for exercise or recreation. He said nothing to a single human being of the paintings he had pro- duced in the solitude of his cell, by the light of his lamp. But his bodily energies wasted and declined under inces- sant toil. There was none sufficiently interested in the poor artist, to mark the feverish hue of his wrinkled cheek, or the increasing attenuation of his misshapen frame. None observed that the uninviting pittance set aside for his midday repast, remained for several days untouched. Samuel made his appearance regularly as ever, and bore W'ith the same meekness the gibes of his fellow-pupils, or the taunts of Madame Diirer, and worked with the same untiring assiduity, though his hands would sometimes trem- ble, and his eyes become suffused, a w^eakness probably owing to the excessive use he had made of them. 84 ECLECTIC SERIES. One morning, Duhobret was missing at tlie scene of his daily labors. His absence created much remark, and many were the jokes passed upon the occasion. One sur- mised this, and another that, as the cause of the phenom- enon; and it was finally agreed that the poor fellow must have worked himself into an absolute skeleton, and taken his final stand in the glass frame of some apothecary, or been blown away by a puflf of wind, while his door hap- pened to stand open. No one thought of going to his lodgings to look after him or his remains. Meanwhile, the object of their mirth was tossing on a bed of sickness. Disease, which had been slowly sapping the foundations of his strength, l)urned in every vein; his eyes rolled and flashed in delirium ; his lips, usually so silent, muttered wild and incoherent words. In his days of health, poor Duhobret had his dreams, as all artists, rich or poor, will sometimes have. He had thought that the fruit of many years' labor, disposed of to advantage, might procure him enough to live, in an economical way, for the rest of his life. He never anticipated fame or fort- une; the height of his ambition or hope was, to possess a tenement large enough to shelter him from the inclemen- cies of the weather, with means enough to purchase one comfortable meal per day. Now, alas! however, even that one hope had deserted him. He thought himself dying, and thought it hard to die without one to look kindly upon him, without the words of comfort that might soothe his passage to another world. He fancied his bed surrounded by fiendish faces, grinning at his sufferings, and taunting his inability to summon power to disperse them. At length the appari- tion faded away, and the patient sunk into an exliausted slumber. He aAvoke unrefreshed ; it was the fifth day he had lain there neglected. His mouth Avas parched ; he turned over, and feebly stretched out his hand toward the earthen SIXTH READER. 85 pitcher, from which, since the first day of his illness, he had quenched his thirst. Alas ! it was empty ! Samuel lay for a few moments thinking what he should do. He knew he must die of want if he remained there alone; but to whom could he apply for aid? An idea seemed, at last, to strike him. He arose slowly, and with difficulty, from the bed, w^ent to the other side of the room, and took up the picture he had painted last. He resolved to carry it to the shop of a salesman, and hoped to obtain for it sufficient to furnish him with the necessaries of life for a Aveek longer. Desjiair lent him •strength to walk, and to carry his burden. On his way, he passed a house, about which there was a crowd. He drew nigh, asked what was going on, and received for an answer, that there was to be a sale of many specimens of art, collected by an amateur in the course of thirty years. It has often happened that collections made with infinite pains by the proprietor, have been sold without mercy or discrimination after his death. Something whispered to the weary Duhobret, that here would be the market for his picture. It was a long way yet to the house of the picture-dealer, and he made up his mind at once. He worked his way through the crowd, dragged himself up the steps, and, after many in- quiries, found the auctioneer. That personage was a busy man, with a handful of papers ; he was inclined to notice somewhat roughly the interruj^tion of the lean, sallow hunchback, imploring as were his gesture and language. "What do you call your picture?" at length, said he, carefully looking at it. "It is a view of the Abbey of Newburg, with its vil- lage and the surrounding landscape," replied the eager and trembling artist. The auctioneer again scanned it contemptuously, and asked what it was Avorth. "Oh, that is what you please; whatever it will bring," answered Duhobret. 86 ECLECTIC SERIES. "Hem! it is too odd to please, I should think; I can promise you no more than three thalers." Poor Samuel sighed deeply. He had spent on that piece the nights of many months. But he Avas starving now; and the pitiful sum offered would give bread for a few days. He nodded his head to the auctioneer, and retiring took his seat in a corner. The sale began. After some paintings and engravings had been disposed of, Samuel's was exhibited. "Who bids at three thalers? Who bids?'" was the cry. Duhobret listened eagerly, but none answered. "Will it find a purchaser?" said he despondingly, to himself. Still there, was a dead silence. He dared not look up; for it seemed to him that all the peoj)le Avere laughing at the folly of the artist, who could be insane enough to offer so worth- less a piece at a public sale. "What will become of me?" Avas his mental inquiry. "That Avork is certainly my best;" and he A^entured to steal another glance. "Does it not seem that the Avind actually stirs those boughs and moA^es those leaves! How transparent is the Avater! What life breathes in the ani- mals that quench their thirst at that spring! Hoav that steeple shines! How beautiful are those clustering trees!" This Avas the last expiring throb of an artist's vanity. The ominous silence continued, and Samuel, sick at heart, buried his face in his hands. " Twenty-one thalers ! " murmured a faint voice, just as the auctioneer AA'as about to knock doAvn the picture. The stupefied painter gaA^e a start of joy. He raised his head and looked to see from Avhose lips those blessed words had come. It AA'as the picture-dealer, to Avhom he had first thought of applying. " Fifty thalers," cried a sonorous voice. This time a tall man in black Avas the speaker. There Avas a silence of hushed expectation. "One hundred thalers," at length thundered the picture-dealer. SIXTH EEADER. 87 ' ' Three hundred ! " " Five hundred ! " " One thousand ! " Another profound silence, and the crowd pressed around the two opponents, who stood opposite each other with eager and angry looks. "Two thousand thalers!" cried the picture-dealer, and glanced around him triumphantly, when he saw his adver- sary hesitate. "Ten thousand!" vociferated the tall man, his face crimson with rage, and his hands clinched con- vulsively. The dealer grew paler; his frame shook with agitation; he made two or three efforts, and at last cried out "Twenty thousand!" ^^ His tall opponent was not to be vanquished. He bid forty thousand. The dealer stopped; the other laughed a low laugh of insolent triumph, and a murmur of admiration was heard in the crowd. It was too much for the dealer; he felt his peace was at stake. ' ' Fifty thousand ! " ex- claimed he in desperation. It was the tall man's turn to hesitate. Again the whole crowd were breathless. At length, tossing his arms in defiance, he shouted " One hundred thousand!" The crest-fallen picture-dealer with- drew; the tall man victoriously bore away the prize. How was it, meanwhile, with Duhobret, while this ex- citing scene was going on ? He was hardly master of his senses. He rubbed his eyes repeatedly, and murmured to himself, "After such a dream, my misery will seem more cruel ! " AVTien the contest ceased, he rose uj) bewildered, and w^eut about asking first one, then another, the price of the picture just sold. It seemed that his apprehension could not at once be enlarged to so vast a conception. The possessor was proceeding homeward, when a decrepit, lame, and humpbacked invalid, tottering along by the aid of a stick, presented himself before him. He threw him a piece of money, and waved his hand as dispensing with his thanks. "May it please your honor," said the supposed beggar, "I am the painter of that picture!" and again hf rubbed his eyes. 88 ECLECTIC SERIES. The tall man was Count Dunkelsback, one of the richest noblemen in Germany. He stojDped, took out his pocket- book, tore out a leaf, and wrote on it a few lines. "Take it, friend," said he; "it is a check for your money. Adieu." Duhobret finally persuaded himself that it was not a dream. He became the master of a castle, sold it, and resolved to live luxuriously for the rest of his life, and to cultivate painting as a pastime. But, alas, for the vanity of human expectation! He had borne privation and toil; prosperity was too much for him, as was proved soon after, when an indigestion carried him off. His picture remained long in the cabinet of Count Dunkelsback, and afterward passed into the possession of the King of Bavaria. Notes. — Albert Diirer (b. 1471, d. 1528) lived at Nurem- burg, Germany. He was eminent as a painter, and as an engraver on copper and wood. He was one of the first artists who studied anatomy and perspective. His influence on art is clearly felt even at the j^resent day. Ne'wburg', or Neuburg, is on the Danube, fifty miles south of Nuremburg. Bergen Abbey was north of the village. X. PICTURES OF MEMORY. Alice Gary, 1820-1871, was born near Cincinnati. One of her ancestors was among the " Pilgrim Fathers," and the first instructor of Latin at Plymouth, Mass. Miss Gary commenced her literary career at her western home, and, in 1849, published a volume of poems, the joint work of her younger sister, Phoebe, and herself, in 1850, she moved to New York. Two of her sisters joined her there, and they supported themselves by tlieir literary labor. Their home became a noted resort for tlieir literary and artistic friends. Miss Gary wa,s tlie autlior of eleven volumes, besides many articles contributed to periodic^ils. Her poetry is marked witli great sweetness and pathos. Some of lier prose works are much admired, especially her " Gloveruook Children." Among the beautiful pictures That hang on Memory's wall, SIXTH READER. 89 Is one of a dim old forest, That seemeth best of all ; Not for its gnarled oaks olden, Dark with the mistletoe ; Not for the violets golden, That sprinkle the vale below; Not for the milk-white lilies, That lean from the fragrant hedge, Coquetting all day with the sunbeams. And stealing their golden edge ; Not for the vines on the upland, Where the bright red berries rest, Nor the pinks, nor the pale, sweet cowslip, It seemeth to me the best. I once had a little brother, With eyes that were dark and deep ; In the lap of that dim old forest, He lieth in peace asleep : Light as the down of the thistle. Free as the winds that blow. We roved there the beautiful summers, The summers of long ago ; But his feet on the hills grew weary, And, one of the Autumn eves, I made for my little brother, A bed of the yellow leaves. Sweetly his pale arms folded INIy neck in a meek embrace, As the light of immortal beauty Silently covered his face ; And when the arrows of sunset Lodged in the tree-tops bright. He fell, in his saint-like beauty. Asleep by the gates of light. 6.— S. 90 ECLECTIC SERIES. Therefore, of all the pictures That hang on Memory's wall, The one of the dim old forest Seemeth the best of all. XI. THE MORNING ORATORIO. "Wilson Flagg, 1805 , was born in Beverly, Mass. He pursued his academical course in Andover, at Pliilllps Academy, and entered Har- vard College, but did not graduate. His chief works are: "Studies in the Field and Forest," " The Woods and By-ways of New England," and "The Birds and Seasons of New England." Nature, for the delight of waking eyes, has arra3'ed the morning heavens in the loveliest hues of beauty. Fear- ing to dazzle by an excess of delight, she first announces day by a faint and glimmering twilight, then sheds a pur- ple tint over the brows of the rising morn, and infuses a transparent ruddiness throughout the atmosjihere. As day- liglit widens, successive groups of mottled and rosy-bosomed clouds assemble on the gilded sphere, and, crowned with wreaths of fickle rainbows, spread a mirrored flush over hill, grove, and lake, iind every village spire is burnished with their splendor. At length, through crimsoned vapors, we behold the sun's broad disk, rising with a countenance so serene that every eye may view him ere he arrays himself in his meridian brightness. Not many people who live in towns are aware of the pleasure attending a ramble near the woods and orchards at day-break in the early part of sum- mer. The drowsiness we feel on rising . from our beds is gradually dispelled by the clear and healthful breezes of early day, and we soon experience an unusual amount of vigor and elasticity. During the night, the stillness of all things is the cir- cumstance that most powerfully attracts our notice, render- ing us peculiarly sensitive to every accidental sound that SIXTH READER. 91 meets the ear. In the morning, at this time of year, on the contrary, we are overpowered by the vocal and multi- tudinous chorus of the feathered tribe. K you would hear the commencement of this grand anthem of nature, you must rise at the very first appearance of dawn, before the twilight has formed a complete semicircle above the eastern porch of heaven. The first note that proceeds from the little warbling host, is the shrill chirp of the hair-bird, — occasionally vocal at all hours on a warm summer night. This strain, which is a continued trilling somid, is repeated with diminishing intervals, until it becomes almost incessant. But ere the hair-bird has uttered many notes, a single robin begius to warble from a neighboring orchard, soon followed by others, increasing in numbers until, by the time the east- ern sky is flushed with crimson, every male robin in the country round is singing with fervor. It would be difficult to note the exact order in which the different birds successively begin their parts in this performance; but the bluebird, whose song is only a short, mellow warble, is heard nearly at the same time with the robin, and the song-sparrow joins them soon after with his brief but finely modulated strain. The diflferent species follow rapidly, one after another, in the chorus, until the whole welkin rings Avith their matin hymn of gladness. I have often wondered that the almost simultaneous utterance of so many different notes should produce no discords, and that they should result in such complete har- mony. In this multitudinous confusion of voices, no two notes are confounded, and none has sufficient duration to grate harshly with a dissimilar sound. Though each per- former sings only a few strains and then makes a pause, the whole multitude succeed one another with such rapidity that we hear an uninterrupted flow of music until the broad light of day invites them to other employments. When there is just light enough to distinguish the birds. 92 ECLECTIC SERIES. we may observe, here and there, a single swallow perched on the roof of a barn or shed, repeating two twittering notes incessantly, with a quick turn and a hop at every note he utters. It would seem to be the design of the bird to attract the attention of his mate, and this motion seems to be made to assist her in discovering his position. As soon as the light has tempted him to fly abroad, this twittering strain is uttered more like a continued song, as he flits rapidly through the air. But at this later moment the purple martins have com- menced their more melodious chattering, so loud as to attract for a while the most of our attention. There is not a sound in nature so cheering and animating as the song of the purple martin, and none so well calculated to drive away melancholy. Though not one of the earliest voices to be heard, the chorus is perceptibly more loud and efiective when this bird has united with the choir. When the flush of the morning has brightened into ver- milion, and the place from which the sun is soon to emerge has attained a dazzling brilliancy, the robins are already less tuneful. They are now becoming busy in col- lecting food for their morning repast, and one by one they leave the trees, and may be seen hopping upon the tilled ground, in quest of the worms and insects that have crept out during the night from their subterranean retreats. But as the robins grow silent, the bobolinks begin their vocal revelries; and to a fanciful mind it might seem that the robins had gradually resigned their part in the per- formance to the bobolinks, not one of which is heard until some of the former have concluded their songs. The little hair-bird still continues his almost incessant chirping, the first to begin and the last to quit the performance. Though the voice of this bird is not very sweetly modulated, it blends harmoniously with the notes of other birds, and greatly increases the charming effect of the combination. It would be tedious to name all the birds that take part tilXTH READER. 93 in this chorus; but we must not omit the pewee, with his melancholy ditty, occasionally heard like a short minor strain in an oratorio; nor the oriole, who is really one of the chief performers, and who, as his bright plumage dashes upon the sight, warbles forth a few notes so clear and mellow as to be heard above every other sound. Add- ing a pleasing variety to all this harmony, the lisping notes of the meadow-lark, uttered in a shrill tone, and with a peculiar pensive modulation, are plamly audible, with short rests between each repetition. There is a little brown sparrow, resembling the hair-bird, save a general tint of russet in his plumage, that may be heard distinctly among the warbling host. He is rarely seen in cultivated grounds, but frequents the wild pastures, and is the bird that warbles so sweetly at midsummer, when the whortleberries are rij)e, and the fields are beau- tifully spangled with red lilies. There is no confusion in the notes of his song, which consists of one syllable rapidly repeated, but increasing in rapidity and rising to a higher key towards the conclusion. He sometimes prolongs his strain, when his notes are ob- served to rise and fall in succession. These plaintive and expressive notes are very loud and constantly uttered, dur- ing the hour that precedes the rising of the sun. A dozen warblers of this species, singing in concert, and distributed in different parts of the field, form, perhajjs, the most de- lightful part of the woodland oratorio to which we have listened. At sunrise hardly a robin can be heard in the Avhole neighborhood, and the character of the performance has completely changed during the last half-hour. The first part was more melodious and tranquilizing, the last is more brilliant and animating. The grass-finches, the vireos, the Avrens, and the bnnets have joined their voices to the chorus, and the bobolinks are loudest in their song. But the notes of the birds in general are not so incessant as 94 ECLECTIC SERIES. before sunrise. One by one they discontinue their lays, until at high noon the bobolink and the warbling fly- catcher are almost the only vocalists to be heard in the fields. XII. SHORT SELECTIONS IN POETRY. I. THE CLOUD. A CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun, A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow; Long had I watched the glory moving on. O'er the still radiance of the lake below: Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow, E'en in its very motion there was rest, While every breath of eve tiiat chanced to blow, Wafted the traveler to the beauteous west. Emblem, methought, of the departed soul. To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given. And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onward to the golden gate of heaven. While to the eye of faith it peaceful lies. And tells to man his glorious destinies. John Wilson. II. MY MIND. My mind to me a kingdom is ; Such perfect joy therein I find. As far exceeds all earthly bliss That God or nature hath assigned ; Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. Note. — Tliis is the first stanza of a poem by William Byrcl (b,*1540, d. 1023), an English composer of music. I SIXTH READER. 95 III. A GOOD NAME. Good name, in man or woman, dear my lord. Is the immediate jewel of their souls. Who steals my jmrse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name, Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed. (S%aAespea?e. — Othello, Act III, Scene III. IV. SUNRISE. But yonder comes the powerful king of day, Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud. The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow Illumed with liquid gold, his near approach Betoken glad. Lo! now apparent all, Aslant the dew-bright earth and colored air He looks in boundless majesty abroad. And sheds the shining day that, burnished, plays On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams. High gleaming from afar. Thomson. V. OLD AGE AND DEATH. Edmund "Waller, 16ft5-1687, an English poet, was a cousin of John Hampden, and related to Oliver Cromwell. He was educated at Eton and Cambridge. Waller was for many j-ears a member of Parliament. He took part in the civil war, and was detected in a treasonable plot. Several years of his life were spent in exile in France. After the Restoration he came into favor at court. His poetry is celebrated for smoothness and sweetness, but is disfigured by affected conceits. luiet when the winds give oer; The seas, are duiet when the winds give oer; feo calm are we when passions are no more. ./ For' then ^we" knt)w how vaip'irwa? to boast Of fldetfiig things, too certain to" be lost. Clouds 'of aftection from odl' yoffiiger ey^s Conceal tifat emp'tiness which age descries. „ . 96 ECLECTIC SEBIES. a- The soul's dark cottage, battered^nd decayed, _ Lets in new liglit. through cliinks thaf^me has made: Stronger by weakness, wiser m^n become, As they draw near j:o their eternal home. ' ^ Leaving; the old, both worlds at once they vifvv. That stand upon the threshold of the new. ^ . VI. MILTON. John Dryden, 1631-1700. A noted English writer, who was made poet laureate by James II. On the expulsion of James, and the acces- sion of William and Mary, Dryden lost his offices and pensions, and was compelled to earn his bread ))y literary work. It was during these last years of his life that his best work was done. His " Ode for St. Cecilia's Day " is one their comforts, their treasures, and their homes; you repaid them by fraud, oppression, and dishonor. SIXTH HEADER. 131 Pizarro, hear me ! Hear me, chieftains ! And thou, All-powerful ! whose thunder can shiver into sand the ada- mantine rock, whose lightnings can pierce the core of the riven and quaking earth, oh let thy power give effect to thy servant's words, as thy Spirit gives courage to his will! Do not, I implore you, chieftains, — do not, I implore you, renew the foul barbarities your insatiate avarice has in- flicted on this wretched, unoffending race. But hush, my sighs ! fall not, ye drops of useless sorrow ! heart-breaking anguish, choke not my utterance. — R. B. Sheridan. Note, — Examples of aeries. See p. 28. III. ACTION AND REPOSE. John Ruskin, 1819 , is a distinguished English art critic and author. He is Professor of the Fine Arts at Oxford University. His writings are very numerous, and are noted for their eloquent and brilliant style. About the river of human life there is a wintry wind, though a heavenly sunshine ; the iris colors its agitation, the frost fixes upon its repose. Let us beware that our rest become not the rest of stones, which, so long as they are tempest-tossed and thunder-stricken, maintain their maj- esty; but when the stream is silent and the storm passed, suffer the grass to cover them, and are plowed into the dust. IV. TIME AND CHANGE. Sir Humphry Davy, 1778-1829, was an eminent chemist of England. He made many important chemical discoveries, and was the inventor of the miner's safety -lamp. Time is almost a human word, and Change entirely a human idea ; in the system of nature, we should rather say progress than change. The sun appears to sink in the ocean in darkness, but it rises in another hemisphere ; the 132 ECLECTIC SERIES. ruins of a city fall, but they are often used to form more magnificent structures: even when they are destroyed so as to produce only dust, Nature asserts her empire over them; and the vegetable world rises in constant youth, in a period of annual successions, by the labors of man — providing food, vitality, and beauty — upon the wrecks of monuments which were raised for the purposes of glory, but which are now applied to objects of utility. V. THE POET. ■William Ellery Channing, 1780-1842, was a distinguished clergyman and orator. He took a leading part in the public affairs of liis daj', and wrote and lectured eloquently on several topics. It is not true that the poet paints a life which does not exist. He only extracts and concentrates, as it were, life's ethereal essence, arrests and condenses its volatile fragrance, brings together its scattered beauties, and prolongs its more refined but evanescent joys ; and in this he does well, for it is good to feel that life is not wholly usurped by cares for subsistence and physical gratifications, but admits, in measures which may be indefinitely enlarged, sentiments and delights worthy of a higher being. VI. MOUNTAINS. "William Hewitt, 1795-1879, was an English author. He published many books, and was associated with his wife, Mary Howitt, in the publication of many others. There is a charm connected with mountains, so powerful that the merest mention of them, the merest sketch of their magnificent features, kindles the imagination, and carries the spirit at once into the bosom of their en- chanted regions. How^ the mind is filled with their vast solitude! How the inward eye is fixed on their silent, their sublime, their everlasting peaks! How our hearts SIXTH READER. XSS bound to the music of their solitary cries, to the tinkle of their gushing rills, to the sound of their cataracts ! How inspiriting are the odors that breathe from the upland turf, from the rock-hung flower, from the hoary and solemn pine! How beautiful are those lights and shadows thrown abroad, and that fine, transparent haze which is diffused over the valleys and lower slopes, as over a vast, inimitable picture ! XXV. THE JOLLY OLD PEDAGOGUE. George Arnold, 1834-1865, was born in New York City. He never attended school, but was educated at home, by his parents. His liter- ary career occupied a period of about twelve years. In this time he wrote stories, essays, criticisms in art and literature, poems, sketches, etc., for sevei'al periodicals. Two volumes of his poems have been pub- lished since his death. 'T WAS a jolly old pedagogue, long ago, Tall, and slender, and sallow, and dry; His form was bent, and his gait Avas slow, And his long, thin hair Avas white as snow. But a wonderful twinkle shone in his eye : And he sang every night as he went to bed, "Let us be happy down here below; The living should live, though the dead be dead," Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. He taught the scholars the Eule of Three, Reading, and writing, and history too ; He took the little ones on his knee. For a kind old heart in his breast had he. And the wants of the littlest child he knew. "Learn while you're young," he often said, "There is much to enjoy down here below; Life for the living, and rest for the dead ! " Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. 134 ECLECTIC SERIES. With the stupidest boys, he was kind and cool, Speaking only in gentlest tones ; The rod was scarcely known in his school — Whipping to him was a barbarous rule, And too hard work for his poor old bones ; Besides it was painful, he sometimes said : ' ' We should make life pleasant down here below- The living need charity more than the dead," Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. He lived in the house by the hawthorn lane, With roses and woodbine over the door; His rooms were quiet, and neat, and plain, But a spirit of comfort there held reign. And made him forget he was old and poor. " I need so little," he often said ; - "And my friends and relatives here below Won't litigate over me when I am dead," Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. But the pleasantest times he had of all, Were the sociable hours he used to pass. With his chair tipped back to a neighbor's wall, Making an unceremonious call. Over a pipe and a friendly glass: This was the finest pleasure, he said, Of the many he tasted here below: " Who has no cronies had better be dead," Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. The jolly old pedagogue's wrinkled face Melted all over in sunshiny smiles ; He stirred his glass with an old-school grace, Chuckled, and sipped, and prattled apace. Till the house grew merry from cellar to tiles. SIXTH HEADER. 135 I 'm a pretty old man," he gently said, " I 've lingered a long time here below ; But my heart is fresh, if my youth is fled ! " Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago. He smoked his pij)e in the balmy air Every night, when the sun went down ; And the soft wind played in his silvery hair, Leaving its tenderest kisses there. On the jolly old pedagogue's jolly old crown; And feeling the kisses, he smiled, and said : " 'T is a glorious world down here below ; Why wait for happiness till we are dead?" Said this jolly old pedagogue, long ago. He sat at his door one midsummer night, After the sun had sunk in the Avest, And the lingering beams of golden light Made his kindly old face look warm and bright, While the odorous night-Avinds whispered, "Rest!" Gently, gently, he bowed his head ; There were angels waiting for him, I know; He was sure of his happiness, living or dead, This jolly old pedagogue, long ago ! XXVI. THE TEACHER AND SICK SCHOLAR. Shortly after the school-master had arranged the forms and taken his seat behind his desk, a small white-headed boy Avith a sunburnt face appeared at the door, and, stop- ping there to make a rustic boAV, came in and took his seat upon one of the forms. He then put an open book, astonishingly dog's-eared, upon his knees, and, thrusting 136 ECLECTIC SERIES. his hands into his pockets, began counting the marbles with which they were filled ; displaying, in the expres- sion of his face, a remarkable capacity of totally abstract- ing his mind from the spelling on which his eyes were fixed. Soon afterward, another Avhite-headeji^Jittle boy came straggling in, and after him, a red-headed lad, and then one with a flaxen poll, until the forms were occupied by a dozen boys, or thereabouts, with heads of every color but gray, and ranging in their ages from four years old to fourteen years or more; for the legs of the youngest were a long way from the floor, when he sat upon the form ; and the eldest was a heavy, good-temi)ered fellow, about half a head taller than the school-master. At the top of the first form — the post of honor in the school — Avas the vacant place of the little sick scholar; and, at the head of the row of pegs, on which those who wore hats or caps were wont to hang them, one was empty. No boy attempted to violate the sanctity of seat or peg, but many a one looked from the empty spaces to the school-master, and whispered to his idle neighbor, • behind his hand. Then began the hum of conning over lessons and get- ting them by heart, the whispered jest and stealthy game, and all the noise and drawl of school ; and in the midst of the din, sat the poor school-master, vainly attempt- ing to fix his mind upon the duties of the day, and to forget his little sick friend. But the tedium of his office reminded him more strongly of the willing scholar, and his thoughts were rambling from his pupils — it was plain. None knew this better than the idlest boys, who, grow- ing bolder with impunity, waxed louder and more daring; playing "odd or even" under the master's eye; eating ap- ples openly and without rebuke ; pinching each other in sport or malice, without the least reserve; and cutting SIXTH READER. 137 their uiitials in the very legs of his desk. The puzzled duuce, who stood beside it to say his lesson "off the book," looked no longer at the ceiling for forgotten words, but drew closer to the master's elbow, and boldly cast his eye upon the page ; the wag of the little troop squinted and made grimaces (at the smallest boy, of course), hold- ing no book before his face, and his approving companions knew no constraint in their delight. If the master did chance to rouse himself, and seem alive to what was going on, the noise subsided for a moment, and no eye met his but wore a studious and deeply humble look; but the instant he relapsed again, it broke out afresh, and ten times louder than before. Oh ! how some of those idle fellows longed to be outside, and how they looked at the open door and window, as if they half meditated rushing violently out, plunging into the woods, and being wild boys and savages from that time forth. What rebellious thoughts of the cool river, and somB shady bathing-place, beneath willow trees with branches dipping in the water, kept tempting and urging that sturdy boy, who, Avith his shirt-collar unbuttoned, and flung back as far as it could go, sat fanning his flushed face with a spelling-book, wishing himself a whale, or a minnow, or a fly, or any thing but a boy at school, on that hot, broiliug day. Heat! ask that other boy, whose seat being nearest to the door, gave him opportunities of gliding out into the garden, and driving his companions to madness, by dipping his face into the bucket of the well, and then rolling on the grass, — ask him if there was ever such a day as that, when even the bees were diving deep down into the cups of the flowers, and stopping there, as if they had made up their minds to retire from business, and be manufacturers of honey no more. The day was made for laziness, and lying on one's back in green places, and staring at the sky, till its brightness forced the gazer to shut his eyes 6— 12. 138 ECLECTIC SERIES. and go to sleep. And was this a time to be poring over musty books in a dark room, slighted by the very sun itself ? Monstrous ! The lessons over, writing time began. This was a more quiet time ; for the master would come and look over the writer's shoulder, and mildly tell him to observe how such a letter Avas turned up, in such a copy on the wall, which had been written by their sick companion, and bid him take it as a model. Then he would stop and tell them what the sick child had said last night, and how he had longed to be among them once again ; and such was the poor school-master's gentle and affectionate manner, that the boys seemed quite remorseful that they had worried him so much, and were absolutely quiet; eating no apples, cutting no names, and making no grimaces for full two minutes afterward. "I think, boys," said the school-master, when the clock struck twelve, "that I shall give you an extra half-holiday this afternoon." At this intelligence, the boys, led on and headed by the tall boy, raised a great shout, in the midst of which the master was seen to speak, but could not be heard. As he held uj? his hand, however, in token of his wish that they should be silent, they were considerate enough to leave off, as soon as the longest-Avinded among them were quite out of breath. " You must promise me, first," said the school-master, "that you'll not be noisy, or at least, if you are, that you '11 go away first, out of the village, I mean. I 'm sure you would n't disturb your old playmate and companion." There was a general murmur (and perhaps a very sin- cere one, for they were but boys) in the negative ; and the tall boy, perhaps as sincerely as any of them, called those about him to witness, that he had only shouted in a whisper. "Then pray don't forget, there's my dear scholars," said the school-master, "what I have asked you, and do it as a favor to me. Be as happy as you can, SIXTH READER. 139 and do n't be unmindful that you are blessed with health, Good-by, aU." " Thank 'ee, sir," and "Good-by, sir," were said a great many times in a great variety of voices, and the boys went out very slowly and softly. But there was the sun shining and there were birds singing, as the sun only shines and the birds only sing on holidays and half-holi- days ; there were the trees waving to all free boys to climb, and nestle among their leafy branches ; the hay, entreating them to come and scatter it to the pure air ; the green corn, gently beckoning toward wood and stream ; the smooth ground, rendered smoother still by blending lights and shadows, inviting to runs and leaps, and long walks, nobody knows whither. It was more than boy could bear, and with a joyous whoop, the whole cluster took to their heels, and spread themselves about, shout- ing and laughing as they went. "'Tis natural, thank Heaven!" said the poor school-master, looking after them: "I am very glad they didn't mind me." Toward night, the school-master walked over to the cot- tage where his little friend lay sick. Knocking gently at the cottage door, it was opened without loss of time. He entered a room where a group of women were gathered about one who was wringing her hands and crying bitterly. "O dame!" said the school-master, drawing near her chair, is it so bad as this?" Without replying, she pointed to another room, which the school-master immediately entered; and there lay his little friend, half-dressed, stretched upon a bed. He was a very young boy ; quite a little child. His hair still hung in curls about his face, and his eyes were very bright; but their light was of heaven, not of earth. The school-master took a seat beside him, and, stooping over the pillow, whispered his name. The boy sprung up, stroked his face with his hand, and threw his wasted arms around his neck, crying, that he was his dear, kind 140 ECLECTIC SERIES. friend. "I hope I always was. I meant to be, God knows," said the poor school-master. ' ' You remember my garden, Henry?" whispered the old man, anxious to rouse him, for a dullness seemed gathering upon the cliild, "and how pleasant it used to be in the evening-time? You must make haste to visit it again, for I think the very flowers have missed you, and are less gay than they used to be. You will come soon, very soon now, won't you?" The boy smiled faintly — so very, very faintly — and put his hand upon his friend's gray head. He moved his lips too, but no voice came from them, — no, not a sound. In the silence that ensued, the hum of distant voices, borne upon the evening air, came floating through the open Avindow. "What's that?" said the sick child, opening his eyes. "The boys at play, upon the green." He took a handkerchief from his pillow, and tried to wave it above his head. But the feeble arm dropped powerless down. "Shall I do it?" said the school-master. "Please wave it at the window," was the faint reply. "Tie it to the lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perliaps they '11 think of me, and look this way." He raised his head and glanced from the fluttering sig- nal to his idle bat, that lay, with slate, and book, and other boyish property, upon the table in the room. And then he laid him softly down once more; and again clasped his little arms around the old man's neck. The two old friends and companions — for such they were, though they were man and child — held each other in a long embrace, and then the little scholar turned his face to the wall and fell asleep. The poor school-master sat in the same place, holding the small, cold hand in his, and chafing it. It was but the hand of a dead child. He felt that; and yet he chafed it still, and could not lay it down. From '■'■Tlie Old CunosiUj Shop,^^ by Dickens. 1 SIXTH READER. 141 XXVII. THE SNOW-SHOWER. William Cullen Bryant, 1794-1878, was the son of Peter Bryant, a physician of Cummington, Massachusetts. Amid the beautiful scenery of this remote country town, the poet was born; and here he passed his early youth. At the age of sixteen, Bryant entered Williams Col- lege, but was honorably dismissed at the end of two years. He then entered on tlie study of law, and was admitted to tlie bar at the age of twenty-one. He practiced his profession, with much success, for about nine years. In 1826, he removed to New York, and became con- nected with the " Evening Post," a connection which continued to the time of his death. For more than thirty of the last years of his life, Mr. Bryant made his home near Roslyn, Long Island, where he occupied an "old-time mansion," which he bought, fitted np, and surrounded in accordance with his excellent rural taste. A poem of his, written at the age of ten years, was published in the "County Gazette," and two poems of considerable length were published in book form, wlien the author was only fourteen. " Thanatopsis," perhaps the best known of all his jjoems, was written when he was but nineteen. But, notwithstanding his precocity, his powers continued to a remark- able age. His excellent translations of the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey," together with some of his best poems, were accomplished after the poet had passed the age of seventy. jSIr. Bryant visited Europe several times; and, in 1849, he continued his travels into Egypt and Syria. Abroad, he was received with many marks of distinction ; and he added much to his extensive knowledge by studying the literature of the countries he visited. All his poems exhibit a peculiar love, and a careful study, of na- ture; and his language, both in prose and poetry, is always chaste, elegant, and correct. His mind was well-balanced; and his personal character was one to be admired, loved, and imitated. Stand here by my side and turn, I pray, On the lake below thy gentle eyes ; The clouds hang over it, heavy and gray, And dark and silent the water lies ; And out of that frozen mist the snow In wavering flakes begins to flow ; Flake after flake They sink in the dark and silent lake. See how in a living swarm they come From the chambers beyond that misty veil; 142 ECLECTIC SERIES. Some hover in air awhile, and some Rush prone from the sky like summer hail. All, dropping swiftly, or settling slow, Meet, and are still in the depths below ; Flake after flake Dissolved in the dark and silent lake. Here delicate snow-stars, out of the cloud. Come floating downward in airy play. Like spangles dropped from the glistening crowd That Avhiten by night the Milky Way; There broader and burlier masses faU ; The sullen water buries them all, — Flake after flake, — All drowned in the dark and silent lake. And some, as on tender wings they glide From their chilly birth-cloud, dim and gray, Are joined in their fall, and, side by side, Come clinging along their unsteady way; As friend with friend, or husband with wife, Makes hand in hand the passage of life ; Each mated flake Soon sinks in the dark and silent lake. Lo ! while we are gazing, in swifter haste Stream down the snows, till the air is white, As, myriads by myriads madly chased, They fling themselves from their shadowy height. The fair, frail creatures of middle sky. What speed they make, with their grave so nigh ; Flake after flake To lie in the dark and silent lake. SIXTH READER. I43 I see in thy gentle eyes a tear; They turn to me in sorrowful thought ; Thou thinkest of friends, the good and dear, Who were for a time, and now are not; Like these fair children of cloud and frost. That glisten a moment and then are lost, — Flake after flake, — All lost in the dark and silent lake. Yet look again, for the clouds divide ; A gleam of blue on the water lies ; And far away, on the mountain-side, A sunbeam falls from the opening skies. But the hurrying host that flew between The cloud and the water no more is seen ; Flake after flake At rest in the dark and silent lake. XXVIII. CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. Charles Phillips, 1787-1859, an eminent barrister and orator, was born in Sligo, Ireland, and died in London. He gained much of his reputation as an advocate in criminal cases. In his youth he pub- lished some verses ; later in life he became the author of several works, chiefly of biography. He is fallen ! We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, which towered among us like some ancient ruin, whose power terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne a sceptered hermit, wrapt in the solitude of his own origi- nality. A mind, bold, independent, and decisive ; a will, despotic in its dictates ; an energy that distanced expedi- tion ; and a conscience, pliable to every touch of interest, marked the outlines of this extraordinary character — the 144 ECLECTIC SEBIES. most extraordinaiy, perhaps, that in tlie annals of this world ever rose, or reigned, or fell. Flung into life in the midst of a revolution that quick- ened every energy of a j)eople Avho acknowledged no su- perior, he commenced his course, a stranger by birth, and a scholar by charit3\ With no friend but his sword, and no fortune but his talents, he rushed into the lists where rank, and wealth, and genius had arrayed them- selves, and competition fled from him, as from the glance of destiny. He knew no motive but interest; acknowledged no crite- rion but success; he worshiped no God but ambition; and, with an eastern devotion, he knelt at the slu'ine of his idolatry. Subsidiary to this, there was no creed that he did not profess, there was no opinion that he did not promulgate : in the hope of a dynasty, he upheld the cres- cent; for the sake of a divorce, he bowed before the cross; the orphan of St. Louis, he became the adopted child of the Republic ; and, with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he reared the throne of his despotism. A professed Catholic, he impris- oned the Pope; a pretended patriot, he impoverished the country; and in the name of Brutus, he grasped with- out remorse, and wore without shame, the diadem of the Coesars. The whole continent trembled at beholding the audacity of his designs, and the miracle of their execution. Skep- ticism bowed to the prodigies of his performance; romance assumed the air of history ; nor was there aught too in- credible for belief, or too fanciful for expectation, when the world saw a subaltern of Corsica waving his imperial flag over her most ancient capitals. All the visions of antiquity became commonplace in his contemplation: kings were his people ; nations were his outposts ; and he disposed of courts, and crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabi- nets, as if they were the titular dignitaries of the chess- SIXTH READER. 145 board! Amid aijl these eliauges, he stood immutable as adamant. It mattered little whether in the field, or in the drawing-room; with the mob, or the levee; wearing the Jacobin bonnet, or the iron crown ; banishing a Braganza, or espousing a Hapsburg ; dictating peace on a raft to the Czar of Russia, or contemplating defeat at the gallows of Leipsic; he w^as still the same military despot. In this wondei'ful combination, his affectations of litera- ture must not be omitted. The jailer of the press, he affected the patronage of letters ; the proscriber of books, he encouraged philosophy ; the persecutor of authors, and the murderer of printers, he yet pretended to the protec- tion of learning; the assassin of Palm, the silencer of De Stael, and the denouncer of Kotzebue, he was the friend of David, the benefactor of De Lille, and sent his academic prize to the philosopher of England. Such a medley of contradictions, and, at the same time, such an individual consistency, Avere never united in the same character. A royalist, a republican, and an em- peror ; a Mohammedan, a Catholic, and a patron of the synagogue ; a subaltern and a sovereign ; a traitor and a tyrant; a Christian and an infidel; he was, through all his vicissitudes, the same stern, impatient, inflexible orig- inal; the same mysterious, incomprehensible self; the man without a model, and Avithout a shadow. Notes. — St. Louis (b. 1215, d. 1270), a wise and pious kiug of France, known as Louis IX. Napoleon was appointed to the Military School at Brienne, by Louis XVI. Brutus, Lucius Junius, abolished the royal office at Rome (509 B. C), and ruled as consul for two years. Jacobin Bonnet. — The Jacobins were a powerful political club during the first French Revolution. A peculiar bonnet or hat was their badge. Braganza, the name of the royal family of Portugal. Maria of Portugal, and her father, Charles IV. of Spain, were both expelled by Napoleon. Hapsburg, the name of the royal family of Austria. Napoleon's second 146 ECLECTIC SERIES. wife was Maria Louisa, the daughter of the Emperor. Czar. — The treaty of Tilsit was agreed to' between Bonaparte and the Czar Alexander on the river Memel. Leipsic. — Napoleon was defeated by the allied forces, in October, 1813, at this city. Palm, a German j^ublisher, shot, in 1806, by order of Napoleon, for publishing a pamphlet against him. De Stael (pro. De Stal), a celebrated French authoress, banished from Paris, in 1802, by Napoleon. Kotzebue, an eminent German dramatist. David, the leading historical painter of his times in France. De Lille, an eminent French poet and professor. XXIX. NAPOLEON AT REST. John Pierpont, 1785-1866, was born in Litchfield, Connecticut, and Rraduated from Yale College in 1804. Tlie next four years he spent as a private tutor in the familj' of Col. William Allston, of South Carolina. On his return, lie studied law in the law school of his native town. He entered upon practice, but soon left the law for mercantile pursuits, in which he was unsuccessful. Having studied theology at Cambridge, in 1819 he wa.s ordained pastor of the HoUis Street Unitarian Church, in Boston, where he continued nearly twenty years. He afterwards preached four years for a church in Troy, New York, and then removed to Medford, Massachusetts. At the age of seventy-six, he became chap- lain of a Massachusetts regiment ; hut, on account of infirmity, was soon obliged to give up tlie position. Mr. Pierpont publislied a .series of school readers, which enjoyed a well-deserved popularity for nuiny years. His poetry is smooth, musical, and vigorous. Most of his pieces were written for special occasions. His falchion flashed along the Nile; His hosts he led through Alpine snows; O'er Moscow's towers, that blazed the while, His eagle flag unrolled, — and froze. Here sleeps he now, alone ! Not one Of all the kings, whose crowns he gave, Bends o'er his dust ; — nor wife nor son Has ever seen or sought his grave. SIXTH READER. 147 Behind this sea-girt rock, the star, That led him on from crown to crown, Has sunk ; and nations from afar Gazed as it faded and went down. High is his couch; — the ocean flood, Far, far below, by storms is curled ; As round him heaved, while high he stood, A stormy and unstable world. Alone he sleeps! The mountain cloud. That night hangs round him, and the breath Of morning scatters, is the shroud That wraps the conqueror's clay in death. Pause here ! The far-off world, at last. Breathes free ; the hand that shook its thrones. And to the earth its miters cast. Lies powerless now beneath these stones. Hark! comes there from the pyramids. And fi'om Siberian wastes of snow, And Europe's hills, a voice that bids The world he awed to mourn him ? No : The only, the perpetual dirge That's heard there is the sea-bird's cry, — The mournful murmur of the surge, — The cloud's deep voice, the Avind's low sigh. Note. — Sea-girt rock, the island of St. Helena, is in the Atlantic Ocean, nearly midway between Africa and South America. Napoleon was confined on this island six years, until 1821, when he died and was buried there. In 1841, his remains were removed to Paris. 148 ECLECTIC SERIES. XXX. WAR. Charles Sumner, 1811-1874. The father of Charles Sumner was sheriflf of the county of Suflblk, Massachusetts, for several years. His son, Charles, was born in Boston, studied at the Latin school in his native city, graduated from Harvard Universitj^ at the age of nineteen, studied law at the same institution, and was admitted to practice in 1831. He at once took a prominent position in his profession, lectured to the law classes at Cambridge for several successive years, wrote and edited several standard law books, and might have had a professorship in the law school, had he desired it. In his famous address on "The True Grandeur of Nations," delivered July 4, 1845, before the municipal authorities of Boston, he took strong grounds against war among na- tions. In 1851, he was elected to the United States Senate, and con- tinued in that position till his death. As a jurist, as a statesman, as an orator, and a.s a profound and scholarly writer, Mr. Sumner stands high in tlie estimation of his countrymen. In physical appearance, Mr. Sumner was grand and imposing; men often turned to gaze after him, as lie passed along the streets of his native city. I NEED not dwell now on the waste and cruelty of war. These stare us wildly in the face, like lurid meteor-lights, as we travel the page of history. We see the desolation and death that pursue its demoniac footsteps. We look upou sacked towns, upon ravaged territories, upon violated homes; we behold all the sweet charities of life changed to wormwood and gall. Our soul is penetrated by the sharp moan of mothers, sisters, and daughters — of fathers, brothers, and sons, who, in the bitterness of their bereave- ment, refuse to be comforted. Our eyes rest at last upon one of these fair fields, where Nature, in her abundance, spreads her cloth of gold, spacious and apt for the en- tertainment of mighty multitudes — or, perhaps, from the curious subtlety of its position, like the carpet in the Arabian tale, seeming to contract so as to be covered by a few only, or to dilate so as to receive an innumerable host. Here, under a bright sun, such as shone at Auster- litz or Bueua Vista — amidst the peaceful harmonies of nature — on the Sabbath of peace — we behold bands of brothers, children of a common Father, heirs to a common SIXTH READER. 149 happiness, struggling together in the deadly fight, with the madness of fallen spirits, seeking with murderous weapons the lives of brothers who have never injured them or their kindred. The havoc rages. The ground is soaked with their commingling blood. The air is rent by their com- mingling cries. Horse and rider are stretched together on the earth. More revolting than the mangled victims, than the gashed limbs, than the lifeless trunks, than the spatter- ing brains, are the lawless passions which sweep, tempest- like, through the fiendish tumult. Horror-struck, we ask, wherefore this hateful contest? The melancholy, but truthful ansAver comes, that this is the established method of determining justice between nations ! The scene changes. Far away on the distant pathway of the ocean two ships approach each other, with white canvas broadly spread to receive the flying gales. They are proudly built. All of human art has been lavished in their graceful proportions, and in their well compacted sides, while they look in their dimensions like floating happy islands on the sea. A numerous crew, with costly appliances of comfort, hives in their secure shelter. Surely these two travelers shall meet in joy and friendship ; the flag at the mast-head shall give the signal of friendship ; the happy sailors shall cluster in the rigging, and even on the yard-arms, to look each other in the face, Avhile the exhilarating voices of both crews shall mingle in accents of gladness uncontrollable. It is not so. Not as brothers, not as friends, not as Avayfarers of the common ocean, do they come together ; but as enemies. The gentle vessels now bristle fiercely with death-dealing instruments. On their spacious decks, aloft on all their masts, flashes the deadly musketry. From their sides spout cataracts of flame, amidst the pealing thunders of a fatal artillery. They, A\^ho had escaped "the dreadful touch of merchant-marring rocks" — who had sped on their long and 150 ECLECTIC SERIES. solitary way iinliarmed by wind or wave — whom the hur- ricane had spared — in whose favor storms and seas had intermitted their immitigable war — now at last fall by the hand of each other. The same spectacle of horror greets us from both ships. On their decks, reddened with blood, the murderers of St. Bartholomew and of the Sicilian Ves- pers, with the fires of Smithficld, seem to break forth anew, and to concentrate their rage. Each has now be- come a swimming Golgotha. At length, these vessels — such pageants of the sea — once so stately — so proudly built — but now rudely shattered by cannon balls — with shivered masts and ragged sails — exist only as unman- ageable wrecks, weltering on the uncertain waves, whose temporary lull of peace is now their only safety. In amaze- ment at this strange, unnatural contest — away from country and home — where there is no country or home to defend — we ask again, wherefore this dismal duel? Again the mel- ancholy but truthful answer promptly comes, that this is the established method of determining justice between nations. Notes. — Austerlitz, a small town in Austria, seventy miles north from Vienna. It is noted as the site of a battle, in December, 1805, between the allied Austrian and Russian armies, and the French under Napoleon. The latter were victorious. Buena Vista, a small hamlet in eastern Mexico, where, in 1847, five thousand Americans, under Gen. Taylor, defeated twenty thousand Mexicans, under Gen. Santa Anna. Dreadful touch. — Quoted from Merchant of Venice, Act III, Scene II. St. Bartholom.e"W. — A terrible massacre took place in France, on St. Bartholomew's day, August 24, 1572. It has been estimated that twenty thousand persons perished. Sicilian Vespers, a revolt and uprising against the French in Sicily, March 30, 1282, at the hour of vespers. Smithfield, a portion of London noted as a place for execution during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. SIXTH HEADER. 151 XXXI. SPEECH OF WALPOLE IN REPROOF OF MR. PITT. Sir Robert "Walpole, 1(376-1745, was educated at Eton and Cam- bridge. He entered Parliament in 1700, and soon became a good de- bater and skillful tactician. He was prime minister of Great Britain from 1721 to 1742, in the reigns of George I. and George II. He was an able statesman; but has been accused of employing corruption or brib- ery on a large scale, to control Parliament and accomplish bis purposes. I WAS unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate, while it was carried on with calmness and decency, by men who do not suffer the ardor of oj)position to cloud their reason, or transport them to such expressions as the dignity of this assembly does not admit. I have hitherto deferred answering the gentleman, who declaimed against the bill with such fluency and rhetoric, and such vehemence of gesture; Avho charged the advocates for the expedients now proposed, with having no regard to any interests but their own, and Avith making laws only to consume paper, and threatened them with the defection of their adherents, and the loss of their influence, ujion this new discovery of their folly and ignorance. Nor, do I now answer him for any other purpose than to remind him how little the clamor of rage and petulancy of invective contribute to the end for which this assembly is called together; how little the discovery of truth is promoted, and the security of the nation established, by pompous diction and theatrical emotion. Formidable sounds and furious declamation, confident assertions and lofty periods, may afiect the young and in- experienced ; and perhaps the gentleman may have con- tracted his habits of oratory by conversing more with those of his own age than with such as have more oppor- tunities of acquiring knowledge, and more successful meth- ods of communicating their sentiments. If the heat of temper would permit him to attend to those, whose age and long acquaintance with business give them an indis- 152 ECLECTIC SERIES. putable right to deference and superiority, he would learn in time to reason, rather than declaim; and to j)refer just- ness of argument and an accurate knowledge of facts, to sounding epithets and splendid superlatives, which may dis- turb the imagination for a moment, but leave no lasting impression upon the mind. He would learn, that to accuse and prove are very different; and that reproaches, unsup- ported by evidence, affect only the character of him that utters them. Excursions of fancy and flights of oratory are indeed pardonable in young men, but in no other; and it would surely contribute more, even to the purpose for which some gentlemen appear to speak (that of depreciating the con- duct of the administration), to prove the inconveniences and injustice of this bill, than barely to assert them, with whatever magnificence of language, or appearance of zeal, honesty, or compassion. XXXII. PITT'S REPLY TO SIR ROBERT WAX.POLE. "William Pitt, 1708-1778, one of the ablest statesmen and orators of his time, was born in Cornwall, and educated at Eton and Oxford. He entered Parliament in 1735, and became a formidal)le opponent of the ministry of Sir Robert Walpole. He gained great reputation by his wise and vigorous management of military affairs in the last years of the reign of George II. He opposed the " Stamp Act " with great ear- nestness, as well as tlie couree of the ministry in the early years of the American Revolution. In 1778, he rose from a sick bed to make his celebrated speech, in the House of Lords, in opposition to a motion to acknowledge the independence of America. At its close, he fell in an apoplectic fit, and wa-s borne home to die in a few weeks aftei'ward. He was buried in Westminster Abbey. Mr. Pitt possessed a fine per- sonal presence and a powerful voice ; he was very popular with the people, and is often called the "Great Commoner." He was created " Earl of Chatham " in 1766. The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, SIXTH BEADEB. 153 charged upon me, I sliall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with hoping that I may be one of those whose follies cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. AVhether youth can be imputed to a man as a reproach, I will not assume the province of determining; but surely tge may become justly contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appears to j)revail when the passions have sub- sided. The wretch, who, after having seen the conse- quences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object either of abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his gray hairs should secure him from insult. Much more is he to be abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and become more wicked — with less temptation; who prostitutes him- self for money which he can not enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country. But youth is not my only crime ; I am accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarity of gesture, or a dissimulation of my real senti- ments, and an adoption of the opinions and language of another man. In the first sense, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language ; and though, perhajis, I may have some ambition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, nor very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age, or modeled by experience. But, if any man shall, by charging me with theatrical behavior, imply that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain ; nor shall any protection shelter him from the treatment he deserves. T shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon 154 ECLECTIC SERIES. all those forms with which wealth and dignity intrench themselves, nor shall any thing but age restrain my re- sentment; age, — which always brings one privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious, without punishment. But, with regard to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion that, if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided their censure: the heat that offended them was the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress. I will not sit unconcerned while my lib- erty is invaded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor, and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect him in his villainies, and whoever may partake of his plunder. XXXIII. CHARACTER OF MR. PITT. Henry Grattan, 1746-1820, an Irish orator and statesman, was born at Dublin, and graduated from Trinity College, in Ills native city. By his admiration of Mr. Pitt, the first Earl of Chatham, he was led to turn his attention to oratory. In personal appearance, he was unpre- possessing ; but his private chai-acter was without a blemish. The secretary stood alone. Modern degeneracy had not reached him. Original and unaccommodating, the features of his character had the hardihood of antiquity. His au- gust mind overawed majesty itself. No state chicanery, no narrow system of vicious politics, no idle contest for min- isterial victories, sank him to the vulgar level of the great; but overbearing, persuasive, and impracticable, his object was England, his ambition was fame. Without dividing, he destroyed party; without corrupt- ing, he made a venal age unanimous. France sunk beneath him. With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, and wielded in the other the democracy of England. The SIXTH READER. 155 sight of his mind was infinite; and his schemes were to effect, not England, not the jDresent age only, but Europe and posterity. Wonderful were the means by which those schemes were accomplished; always seasonable, always ade- quate, the suggestion of an understanding animated by ardor and enlightened by prophecy. The ordinary feelings which make life amiable and in- dolent, were unknown to him. No domestic difficulties, no domestic weakness, reached him ; but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, and unsullied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our system, to counsel and decide. A character so exalted, so strenuous, so various, so author- itative, astonished a corrupt age, and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt, through all classes of venality. Cor- ruption imagined, indeed, that she had found defects in this statesman, and talked much of the inconsistency of his glory, and much of the ruin of his victories ; but the history of his country, and the calamities of the enemy, answered and refuted her. Nor were his political his only talents. His eloquence was an era in the senate; peculiar and spontaneous; famil- iarly expressing gigantic sentiments and instructive Avisdom; not like the torrent of Demosthenes, or the splendid con- flagration of Tully; it resembled sometimes the thunder, and sometimes the music of the spheres. He did not con- duct the understanding through the painful subtilty of argumentation, nor was he ever on the rack of exertion ; but rather lightened upon the subject, and reached the point by the flashings of the mind, which, like those of the eye, were felt, but could not be followed. Upon the whole, there was in this man something that could create, subvert, or reform; an understanding, a spirit, and an eloquence, to summon mankind to society, or to break the bonds of slavery asunder, and to rule the wild- ness of free minds with unbounded authority ; something that could establish or overwhelm empires, and strike 156 ECLECTIC SERIES. a blow in the world that should resound through the universe. Notes.— Demosthenes (b. 385, d. 322, B. C.) was the son of a cutler at Athens, Greece. By diligent study and unremitting toil, lie became the greatest orator that ever lived. TuUy, Marcus Tullius Cicero (b. 106, d. 43, B. C), was the most remarkable of Roman orators. He held the highest office of the Republic. XXXIV. THE SOLDIER'S REST. Sir "Walter Scott, 1771-1832. This great Scotch poet and novelist was born in Edinburgli, Being a feeble cliild, he was sent to reside on his grandfather's estate in the south of Scotland. Here he spent several years, and gained much knowledge of the traditions of border warfare, as well as of the tales and ballads pertaining to it. He was also a great reader of romances in his j-outh. In 1779 he returned to Edinburgh, ana became a pupil in the high school. Four yeai"s later, he entered the university ; but, in neither school nor college, was he distinguished for scholarship. In 1797 he was admitted to the practice of law,— a profes- sion which he soon forsook for literature. His flrst poems appeared in 1802. The " Lay of the Last Minstrel " was publislied in 1805, " Marmlon " in 1808, and " The Lady of the Lake " in 1810. Several poems of less power followed. In 1814 " Waverley," his first novel, made its appear- ance, but the author was unknown for some time. Numerous other novels followed with great rapidity, the author reaping a rich harvest both in fame and money. In 1811 he purchased an estate near the Tweed, to which he gave the name of Abbotsford. In enlarging his estate and building a costly house, he spent vast sums of money. This, together with the failure of his publishers in 1826, involved him very heavily in debt. But he set to work with almost .superhuman effort to pay his debts by the labors of his pen. In about four years, he had paid more than |;300,000 ; but the effort was too much for his strength, and hastened his death. In person, Scott was tall, and apparently robust, except a slight lameness with which he was aflfected from childhood. He was kindly in disposition, hospitable in manner, fond of out-door pursuits and of animals, especially dogs. He wrote with astonishing rapidity, and always in the early morning. At his death, he left two sons and two daughter.^. A magnificent monument to his memory has been erected In the city of his birth. The following selection is from " The Lady of the Lake." SIXTH BEABER. 157 Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ; Dream of battle-fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking. In our isle's enchanted hall. Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er. Dream of battle-fields no more; Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, Morn of toil, nor night of Avaking. No rude sound shall reach thine ear. Armor's clang, or war-steed champing. Trump nor pibroch summon here Mustering clan, or squadron tramping. Yet the lark's shrill fife may come. At the day-break from the fallow, And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. Ruder sounds shall none be near. Guards nor warders challenge here, Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing. Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ; While our slumb'rous spells assail ye, Dream not, with the rising sun. Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. 158 ECLECTIC SERIES. . Huntsman, rest; thy chase is done, Think not of the rising sun, For at dawning to assail ye, Here no bugle sounds reveille. Notes — Pibroch (pro. pi'brok). This is a wild, irregular species of music, peculiar to the Highlands of Scotland. It is performed on a bagpipe, and adapted to excite or assuage passion, and particularly to rouse a martial spirit among troops going to battle. Reveille (pro. re-vaFya) is an awakening call at daybreak. In the army it is usually sounded on the drum. XXXV. HENRY V. TO HIS TROOPS. ■William Shakespeare, 1564-1616. By many (perhaps most) critics, Shakespeare is regarded as the greatest poet the world has ever pro- duced ; one calls him, " The most iUustrious of the sons of men." And yet it is a curious fact that less is really known of his life and personal char- acteristics than is known of almost any other famous name in history. About one hundred yeare ago, a writer said, "All that is known with any degree of certainty concerning Shakespeare, is — that he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, married and had children there, went to Lon- don, where he commenced actor, and wrote poems and plays; returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried." All the research of the last one hundi'ed years has added but very little to this meager record. He was niarried, very young, to Anne Hathaway, a woman eight years his senior; wa-s joint proprietor of Blackfriar's Theater in 1589, and seems to have accumulated property, and retired three or four years before his death. He was buried in Stratford Church, where a monunvent has been erected to his inemory; he also has a monument in "Poet's Corner " of Westminster Abbey. His family soon became extinct. From all we can learn, he seems to have been highly respected and esteemed by his cotemporaries. His works consist chiefly of plays and sonnets. His writings show an astonishing knowledge of human nature, expressed in language wonderful for its point and beauty. His style is chaste and pure, judged by the standard of his times, although expressions may some- times be found that would not be considered proper in a modern writer. It has been argued by some that Shakespeare did not write the works imputed to him ; but this theory seems to have little to support it. This extract is from King Henry V., Act III, Scene I. SIXTH READER. 159 Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead. In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage ; Then lend the eye a terrible aspect; Let it pry through the portage of the head Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'erwhelm it As fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean. Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide. Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit To its full height! On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof! Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till even, fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument ; Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear That you are worth your breeding, which I doubt not; For there is none of you so mean and base. That hath not noble luster in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game 's afoot ; Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, Cry — "God for Harry, England, and St. George!" 160 ECLECTIC SEBIES. Notes.— Henry V. (1388-1422) was king of England for nine years. During this reign almost continuous war raged in France, to the throne of which Henry laid claim. The battle of Agincourt took i^lace in his I'eign. Fet is the old form oi fetched. Alexanders. — Alexander the Great (3.56-32.3 B. C.) was king of Macedonia, and the celebrated conqueror of Persia, India, and the greater part of the world as then known. XXXyi. SPEECH OF PAUL ON MARS HILL. Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars Hill, and said, Ye men of Athens ! I perceive that in aU things ye are too superstitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I found an altar with this inscription, To The Unknown God. "Whom therefore ye iguorantly worship, him declare I unto you. God that made the world and all things therein (seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth) dwelleth not in temples made with hands; neither is worshiped wdth men's hands, as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things ; and hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habita- tion; that they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one of us: for in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his oifspring. Forasmuch then as we are the offspring of God, we ought not to think that the God- head is like unto gold, or silver, or stone, graven by art and man's device. And the times of this ignorance God winked at ; but now commaudeth all men every-where to repent: because he hath appointed a day, in the which he will judge the world in righteousness by that Man whom SIXTH READER. 161 lie hath ordained; whereof he hath given assurance unto aU men, in that he hath raised him from the dead. And when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked : and others said. We will hear thee again of this matter. So Paul departed from among them. Howbeit certain men clave unto him, and believed ; among the which was Dionysius the Areopagite, and a woman named Damaris, and others with them. —Bible. Notes. — At the time this oration was delivered (50 A. D.), Athens still held the place she had occupied for centuries, as the center of the enlightened and refined world. Mars Hill, or the Areopagus, was an eminence in the city, made famous as the place where the court, also called Areopagus, held its sittings. Dionysius, surnamed Areopageita, from being a member of this court, was an eminent Greek scholar, who, after his conversion to Christianity by St. Paul, was installed, by the latter, as the first bishop of Athens. He afterwards suffered martyrdom. XXXVn. GOD IS EVERY-"WTIERE. Oh! show me where is He, The high and holy One, To whom thou bend'st the knee, And prayest, ' ' Thy will be done ! " I hear thy song of praise. And lo ! no form is near : Thine eyes I see thee raise, But where doth God appear? Oh! teach me who is God, and where his glories shine, That I may kneel and pray, and call thy Father mine. 6.— 14. 162 ECLECTIC SERIES. "Gaze on that arch above: The glittering vault admire. Who taught those orbs to move? Who lit their ceaseless fire? Who guides the moon to run In silence through the skies? Who bids that dawning sun In strength and beauty rise? There view immensity ! behold ! my God is there : The sun, the moon, the stars, his majesty declare. " See where the mountains rise : Where thundering torrents foam ; Where, veiled in towering skies, The eagle makes his home : Where savage nature dwells. My God is present, too : Through all her wildest dells His footsteps I pursue : He reared those giant cliffs, supplies that dashing stream, Provides the daily food which stills the wild bird's scream. " Look on that world of waves. Where finny nations glide ; Within whose deep, dark caves The ocean monsters hide : His power is sovereign there. To raise, to quell the storm ; The depths his bounty share. Where sport the scaly swarm : Tempests and calms obey the same almighty voice, Which rules the earth and skies, and bids far worlds rejoice. " — Joseph Hutton. SIXTH READER. 163 XXXVIII. LA FAYETTE AND ROBERT RAIKES. Thomas S. Grimke, 1786-18;?4, an eminent lawyer and scholar, was born in Charleston, South Carolina, graduated at Yale in 1807, and died of cholera near Columbus, Ohio. He de.seended from a Huguenot family that was exiled from France by the revocation of the edict of Nantes. He gained considerable reputation as a politician, but is best known as an advocate of peace, Sunday-schools, and the Bible. He was a man of deep feeling, earnest purpose, and pure life. Some of his views were very radical and very peculiar. He proposed sweeping re- forms in English orthography, and disapproved of the classics and of pure mathematics in any scheme of general education. The following is an extract from an address delivered at a Sunday-school celebration. It is but a few years since we beheld the most singular and memorable pageant in the annals of time. It was a pageant more sublime and affecting than the progress of Elizabeth through England after the defeat of the Armada; than the return of Francis I. from a Spanish prison to his own beautiful France ; than the daring and rapid march of the conqueror at Austerlitz from Frejus to Paris. It was a pageant, indeed, rivaled only in the elements of the grand and the pathetic, by the journey of our own Wash- ington through the different states Need I say that I allude to the visit of La Fayette to America? But La Fayette returned to the laud of the dead, rather than of the living. How many who had fought with him in the war of '76, had died in arms, and lay buried in the grave of the soldier or the sailor ! How many who had survived the perils of battle, on the land and the ocean, had expired on the death-bed of peace, in the arms of mother, sister, daughter, wife ! Those who survived to celebrate with him the jubilee of 1825, were stricken in years, and hc^ary-headed ; many of them infirm in health ; many the victims of poverty, or misfortune, or affliction. And, how venerable that patriotic company; how sublime their gathering through all the land; how joyful their wel- come, how affecting their farewell to that beloved stranger! But the pageant has fled, and the very materials that 164 ECLECTIC SERIES. gave it such depths of interest are rapidly perishing: and a humble, perhaps a nameless grave, shall hold the last soldier of the Revolution. And shall they ever meet again ? Shall the patriots and soldiers of '76, the "Immortal Band," as history styles them, meet again in the amaranthine bowers of spotless purity, of perfect bliss, of eternal glory? Shall theirs be the Christian's heaven, the kingdom of the Redeemer? The heathen points to his fabulous Elysium as the paradise of the soldier and the sage. But the Christian bows down with tears and sighs, for he knows that not many of the patriots, and statesmen, and warriors of Christian lands are the disciples of Jesus. But we turn from La Fayette, the favorite of the old and the new world, to the peaceful benevolence, the un- ambitious achievements of Robert Raikes. Let us imagine him to have been still alive, and to have visited our land, to celebrate this day with us. No national ships would have been offered to bear him, a nation's guest, in the pride of the star-spangled banner, from the bright shores of the rising, to the brighter shores of the setting sun. No cannon would have hailed him in the stern language of the battle-field, the fortunate champion of Freedom, in Europe and America. No martial music would have wel- comed him in notes of rajiture, as they rolled along the Atlantic, and echoed through the valley of the Mississippi. No military procession would have heralded his way through crowded streets, thick-set with the banner and the plume, the glittering saber and the poHshed bayonet. No cities would have called forth beauty and fashion, wealth and rank, to honor him in the ball-room and theater. No states would have escorted him from boundary to boundary, nor have sent their chief magistrate to do him homage. No national liberahty Avould have allotted to him a noble- man's domain and princely treasure. No national gratitude would have hailed him in the capitol itself, the nation's guest, because the nation's benefactor; and have conse- SIXTH READER. 165 crated a battle-ship, in memory of bis wounds and bis gallantry. Not sucb would bave been tbe reception of Robert Raikes, in tbe land of tbe Pilgrims and of Penn, of tbe CatboHc, tbe Cavalier, and tbe Huguenot. And wbo does not rejoice tbat it would be impossible tbus to welcome tbis primitive Cbristian, tbe founder of Sunday -scbools ? His beralds would be tbe preacbers of tbe Gospel, and tbe eminent in piety, benevolence, and zeal. His jirocession would number in its ranks tbe messengers of tbe Cross and tbe disciples of tbe Savior, Sunday-scbool teacbers and white-robed scholars. The temples of tbe Most High would be tbe scenes of bis triumph. Homage and grati- tude to him, would be anthems of praise and thanksgiving to God. Parents would honor him as more than a brother; chil- dren would reverence bim as more than a father. The faltering words of age, the firm and sober voice of man- hood, the silvery notes of youth, would bless bim as a Cbristian patron. The wise and the good would acknowl- edge him every -where as a national benefactor, as a patriot even to a land of strangers. He would bave come a mes- senger of peace to a land of peace. No images of camps, and sieges, and battles ; no agonies of the dying and tbe wounded ; no shouts of victory, or processions of triumph, would mingle with tbe recollections of the multitude wbo welcomed bim. They would mourn over no common dan- gers, trials, and calamities ; for tbe road of duty has been to them tbe path of pleasantness, tbe way of peace. Their memory of the past would be rich in gratitude to God, and love to man; their enjoyment of tbe present would be a prelude to heavenly bliss ; their prospects of the future, bright and glorious as faith and hope. * >i< * Sucb was tbe reception of La Fayette, the warrior; sucb would be tbat of Robert Raikes, tbe Howard of the Cbristian church. And which is tbe nobler benefactor, 166 ECLECTIC SERIES. patriot, and philanthropist? Mankind may admire and extol La Fayette more than the founder of the Sunday- schools; but religion, philanthropy, and enlightened com- mon sense must ever esteem Robert Raikes the superior of La Fayette. His are the virtues, the services, the sacrifices of a more enduring and exalted order of being. His counsels and triumj^hs belong less to time than to eternity. The fame of La Fayette is of this world ; the glory of Robert Raikes is of the Redeemer's everlasting kingdom. La Fayette lived chiefly for his own age, and chiefly for his and our country; but Robert Raikes has lived for all ages and all countries. Perhaps the historian and biog- rapher may never interweave his name in the tapestry of national or individual renown. But the records of every single church honor him as a patron ; the records of the universal Church, on earth as in heaven, bless him as a benefactor. The time may come when the name of La Fayette will be forgotten ; or when the star of his fame, no longer glit- tering in the zenith, shall be seen, pale and glimmering, on the verge of the horizon. But the name of Robert Raikes shall never be forgotten ; and the lambent flame of his glory is that eternal fire which rushed down from heaven to devour the sacrifice of Elijah. Let mortals then admire and imitate La Fayette more than Robert Raikes. But the just made perfect, and the ministering spirits around the throne of God, have welcomed him as a fellow- servant of the same Lord ; as a felloAv-laborer in the same glorious cause of man's redemption ; as a co-heir of the same precious promises and eternal rewards. Notes. — Armada, the great fleet sent out in 1588, by Philip II. of Spain, for the conquest of England, was defeated in the Channel by the English and Dutch fleets. After the victory. Queen Elizabeth made a triumphal journey through the kingdom. SIXTH READER. 167 Francis I. (b. 1494, d. 1547), King of France, was taken jirisoner at the battle of Pavia, and confined at Madrid, Spain, nearly a year. Austerlitz. — See Note 'on p. 150. La Fayette (b. 1757, d. 1S34), a French marquis, who served as major-general in the Revolutionary War in America, which terminated in 1783. La Fayette revisited this country in 1824, and was received throughout the land with the greatest entiiusiasm. Robert Raikes (b. 1735, d. 1811), an English printer and 2)hiUxnthropist, noted as the founder of Sunday-schools. Ho^vard, John (b. 172^, d. 1790), a celebrated English phi- lantliropist, who spent much of his life in the endeavor to reform the condition of prisons in Europe. XXXIX. FALL OF CARDINAL WOLSEY. Wolsey. Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, when he thinks, good, easy inan, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root. And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little, wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summei'S in a sea of glory. But far beyond my depth : my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye : I feel my heart" neAV open'd. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors ! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 168 ECLECTIC SERIES. That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have : And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. I Enter Cromwell, and stands aviazed. Why, how now, Cromwell! Orom. I have no power to speak, sir, Wbl. What, amazed At my misfortunes? Can thy spirit wonder, A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I am fall'u indeed. Oram. How does your grace? Wol. Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now ; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The king has cured me, I humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, These ruiu'd pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy, — too much honor: Oh, 'tis a burthen, Cromwell, 'tis a burthen, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven ! Crovi. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. Wol. I hope I have: I am able now, methinks, Out of a fortitude of soul I feel, To endure more miseries, and greater far. Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. AVhat news abroad? Crom. The heaviest, and the worst. Is your displeasure with the king. Wol. God bless him! SIXTH READER. 169 Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place. Wol. That 's somewhat sudden : But he's a learned man. May he continue Long in his highness' favor, and do justice For truth's sake and his conscience; that his bones, When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em! What more? Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury. Wol. That 's news indeed ! Crom. Last, that the Lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married. This day was viewed in open as his queen, Going to chapel; and the voice is now Only about her coronation. Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down. Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me: all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever: No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors. Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell; I am a poor, fall'n man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master: seek the king; That sun, I jjray, may never set! I have told him What and how true thou art: he will advance thee; Some little memory of me will stir him — I know his noble nature — not to let Thy hopeful service perish, too: good Cromwell, Neglect him not; make use now, and provide For thine own future safety. 6.— 15. 170 ECLECTIC SERIES. Crom. O my lord, Must I, then, leave you? Must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. The king shall have ray service; but my prayers For ever and for ever shall be yours. Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me. Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor. Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels; how can man, then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by it? Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's. Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed mart}^! Serve the king; And, — prithee, lead me in: There, take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny ; 't is the king's : my robe. And my integrity to Heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell! SIXTH READER. 171 Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, He would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. Orom. Good sir, have patience. Wol. So I have. Farewell The hopes of court! my hopes in Heaven do dwell. Sliakespeare. — Henry VIII, Act in, Scene ii. Notes.— Wolsey, Cardinal Thomas (b. 1471, d. 1530), was for several years the favored minister of Henry VIII. of England. He acquired great wealth and power. In 1522, he was one of the candidates for the Papal throne. In 1529, he was dis- graced at the English court and arrested. Cromwell, Thomas (b. 1490, d. 1540), was Wolsey's servant. After Wolsey's death, he became secretary to Henry VIII., and towards the close of his life was made Earl of Essex. XL. THE PHILOSOPHER. John P. Kennedy, 1795-1870. This gentleman, eminent in American politics and literature, was born in Baltimore, graduated at tlie College of Baltimore, and died in the same city. He served several years in the Legislature of his native state, and three terms in the United States House of Representatives. He was Secretary of the Navy during a part of President Fillmore's administration, and was active in send- ing out the famous Japan expedition, and Dr. Kane's expedition in search of Sir John Franklin. Mr. Kennedy wrote several novels, as well as political and other papers. His writings are marked by ease and freshness. The following extract is from "Swallow Barn," a series of sketches of early Virginia. From the house at Swallow Barn there is to be seen, at no great distance, a clump of trees, and in the midst of these a humble building is discernible, that seems to court the shade in which it is modestly embowered. It is an old structure built of logs. Its figure is a cube, with a roof rising from all sides to a point, and surmounted by 172 ECLECTIC SERIES. a wooden weathercock, which somewhat resembles a fish and somewhat a fowl. This little edifice is a rustic shrine devoted to Cadmus, and is under the dominion of parson Chub. He is a plump, rosy old gentleman, rather short and thickset, with the blood-vessels meandering over his face like riv- ulets, — a pair of prominent blue eyes, and a head of silky hair not unlike the covering of a white spaniel. He may be said to be a man of jolly dimensions, with an evident taste for good living, sometimes sloven in his attire, for his coat — which is not of the newest — is decorated with sundry spots that are scattered over it in constellations. Besides this, he wears an immense cravat, which, as it is wreathed around his short neck, forms a bowl beneath his chin, and — as Ned says — gives the parson's head the ap- pearance of that of John the Baptist upon a charger, as it is sometimes represented in the children's picture books. His beard is grizzled with silver stubble, which the parson reaps about twice a week — if the weather be fair. Mr. Chub is a philosopher after the order of Socrates. He was an emigrant from the Emerald Isle, where he suflfered much tribulation in the disturbances, as they are mildly called, of his much-enduring country. But the old gentleman has weathered the storm without losing a jot of that broad, healthy benevolence with which Nature has en- veloped his heart, and whose ensign she has hoisted in his face. The early part of his life had been easy and pros- perous, until the rebellion of 1798 stimulated his republic- anism into a fever, and drove the full-blooded hero headlong into a quarrel, and put him, in spite of his peaceful pro- fession, to standing by his pike in behalf of his principles. By this unhappy boiling over of the caldron of his valor, he fell under the ban of the ministers, and tested his share of government mercy. His house was burnt over his head, his horses and hounds (for, by all accounts, he was a perfect Actaeou) were " confiscate to the state," and SIXTH READER. 173 he was forced to fly. This brought him to America in no very compromising mood with royalty. Here his fortunes appear to have been various, and he was tossed to and fro by the battledoor of fate, until he found a snug harbor at Swallow Barn; where, some years ago, he sat down in that quiet repose which a worried and badgered patriot is best fitted to enjoy. He is a good scholar, and, having confined his readings entirely to the learning of the ancients, his republicanism is somewhat after the Grecian mold. He has never read any politics of later date than the time of the Emperor Constantine, not even a newspaper, — so that he may be said to have been contemporary with ^schines rather than Lord Castlereagh — until that eventful epoch of his life when its blazing roof-tree awakened him from his anachro- nistical dream. This notable interruption, however, gave him but a feeble insight into the moderns, and he soon relapsed to Thucydides and Livy, with some such glim- merings of the American Revolution upon his remembrance as most readers have of the exploits of the first Brutus. The old gentleman had a learned passion for folios. He had been a long time urging Meriwether to make some additions to his collections of literature, and descanted upon the value of some of the ancient authors as foundations, both moral and physical, to the library. Frank gave way to the argument, partly to gratify the parson, and partly from the proposition itself having a smack that touched his fancy. The matter was therefore committed entirely to Mr. Chub, who forthwith set out on a voyage of ex- ploration to the north. I believe he got as far as Boston. He certainly contrived to execute his commission with a curious felicity. Some famous Elzevirs were picked up, and many other antiques that nobody but Mr. Chub would ever think of opening. The cargo arrived at Swallow Barn in the dead of winter. During the interval between the parson's return 174 ECLECTIC SERIES. from his expedition and the coming of the books, the rev- erend little school-master was in a remarkably unquiet state of body, which almost prevented him from sleeping : and it is said that the sight of the long-expected treasures had the happiest effect upon him. There was ample accommo- dation for this new acquisition of ancient wisdom provided before its arrival, and Mr. Chub now spent a whole week in arranging the volumes on their proper shelves, having, as report affirms, altered the arrangement at least seven times during that period. Every body wondered what the old gentleman was at, all this time ; but it was discovered afterwards, that he was endeavoring to effect a distribu- tion of the works according to a minute division of human science, Avhich entirely failed, owing to the unlucky ac- cident of several of his departments being without any volumes. After this matter was settled, he regularly spent his evenings in the library. Frank Meriwether was hardly behind the parson in this fancy, and took, for a short time, to abstruse reading. They both consequently de- serted the little family circle every evening after tea, and might have continued to do so all the winter but for a discovery made by Hazard. Ned had seldom joined the two votaries of science in their philosophical retirement, and it was whispered in the family that the parson Avas giving Frank a quiet course of lectures in the ancient philosophy, for Meriwether was known to talk a great deal, about that time, of the old and new Academicians. But it happened upon one dreary winter night, during a tremendous snow storm, which was banging the shutters and doors of the house so as to keep up a continual uproar, that Ned, having waited in the parlor for the philosophers until midnight, set out to in- vade their retreat — not doubting that he should find them deep in study. When he entered the library, both candles were burning in their sockets, with long, untrimmed wicks; SIXTH READER. 175 the fire was reduced to its last embers, and, in an arm- chair on one side of the table, the parson was discovered in a sound sleep over Jeremy Taylor's " Ductor Dubitautium," whilst Frank, in another chair on the opposite side, was snoring over a folio edition of Montaigne. And upon the table stood a small stone pitcher, containing a residuum of whisky punch, now grown cold. Frank started up in great consternation upon hearing Ned's footstep beside him, and, from that time, almost entirely deserted the library. Mr. Chub, however, was not so easily drawn away from the career of his humor, and still shows his hankering after his leather-coated friends. Notes. — Cadmus is said to have taught the Greeks the use of the alphabet. Socrates (b. 469, d. 399 B. C), a noted Athenian philos- opher. Rebellion. — In 1798, the Irish organized and rose against the English rule. The rebfeUion was suppressed. Actseon [Ak-te'on], a fabled Greek hunter, who was changed into a stag. Constantine, the Great (b. 272, d, 337), the first Chris- tian emperor of Rome. He was an able general and wise legislator. In 328, he removed his capital to Byzantium, which he named Constantinople, .^schines [es^ke-nez] (b. 389, d. 314 B. C), an Atlienian orator, the rival of Demos- thenes. Castlereagh, Lord (b. 1769, d. 1822), a British statesman. He was in power, and prominent in the suppres- sion of the Eebellion. Brutus, see p. 145. Elzevirs [eFze-Vir§], the name of a family of Dutch print- ers noted for the beauty of their workmanship. They lived from 1540 to 1680. Academicians. — The Old Academy was founded by Plato, at Athens, about 380 B. C. The New, by Carneades, about two hundred years later. Jeremy Taylor (b. 1613, d. 1667), an English bishop and writer. His Duetor Duhitantium, or " Rule of Conscience," was one of his chief works. Montaigne, Michel (b. 1533, d. 1592), was a celebrated French writer of peculiar characteristics. He ovpes his reputation entirely to his " Essais." 176 ECLECTIC SERIES. XLI. MARMION AND DOUGLAS. Not far advanced was morning day, When Marmion did his troop array- To Surrey's camp to ride ; He had safe conduct for his band, Beneath the royal seal and hand, And Douglas gave a guide. The train from out the castle drew, But Marmion stopped to bid adieu: " Though something I might plain," he said, " Of cold respect to stranger guest. Sent hither by your king's behest, While in Tantallon's towers I staid, Part we in friendship from your land, And, noble Earl, receive my hand." But Douglas round him drew his cloak. Folded his arms, and thus he sjjoke: "My manors, halls, and bowers shall still Be open, at my sovereign's will, To each one whom he lists, howe'er Unmeet to be the owner's peer. My castles are my king's alone. From turret to foundation stone; The hand of Douglas is his own; And never shall, in friendly grasp, The hand of such as Marmion clasp." Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire, And shook his very frame for ire; And — "This to me!" he said,— "An 'twere not for thy hoary beard, Such hand as Marmion's had not spared To cleave the Douglas' head ! And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer, SIXTH READER. 177 He who does England's message here, Although the meanest in her state, May well, proud Angus, be thy mate: And, Douglas, more, I tell thee here, Even in thy pitch of j^ride, Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near, I tell thee, thou'rt defied! And if thou said'st I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here, Lowland or Highland, far or near, Lord Angus, thou hast lied ! " On the Earl's cheek the flush of rage O'ercame the ashen hue of age. Fierce he broke forth, — "And dar'st thou then To beard the lion in his den, The Douglas in his hall? And hop'st thou hence unscathed to go? No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no ! Up draw-bridge, grooms, — what, warder, ho! Let the portcullis fall." Lord Marmion turned, — well was his need, — And dashed the rowels in his steed, Like arrow through the archway sprung; The ponderous gate behind him rung: To pass there was such scanty room, The bars, descending, razed his plume. The steed along the draw-bridge flies. Just as it trembled on the rise; Nor lighter does the swalloAV skim Along the smooth lake's level brim : And when lord Marmion reached his band He halts, and turns with clenched hand. And shout of loud defiance pours, And shook his gauntlet at the towers. 178 ECLECTIC SERIES. "Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!" But soon he reined his fury's pace: "A royal messenger he came, Though most unworthy of the name. Saint Mary mend my fiery mood ! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas' blood ; I thought to slay him Avhere he stood. 'Tis pity of him, too," he cried; "Bold he can speak, and fairly ride; I warrant him a warrior tried." With this his mandate he recalls, And slowly seeks his castle halls. — Walter Scott. Notes. — In the poem from which this extract is taken, Mar- mion is represented as an embassador sent by Henry VIII., king of England, to James IV., king of Scotland, who w^ere at war with each other. Having finished his mission to James, Marmion was intrusted to the protection and hospitality of Douglas, one of the Scottish nobles. Douglas entertained him, treated him with the respect due to his office and to the honor of his sovereign, yet he despised his private character. Mar- mion perceived this, and took umbrage at it, though he at- tempted to repress his resentment, and desired to part in peace. Under these circumstances the scene, as described in this sketch, takes place. Tantallon is the name of the Douglas castle at Bothwell, Scotland. XLII. THE PRESENT. Adelaide Anne Procter, 1825-1804, is the daughter of Bryan Waller Pi'octcr, known in literature as "Barry Cornwall." She is the anthor of several volumes of poetry, and was a contributor to " Good Words," " All the Yenr Round," and other London periodicals. Her works have been re-published in America. Do not crouch to-day, and worship The dead Past, whose life is fled; SIXTH READEB. 179 Hush your voice in tender reverence; Crowned he lies, but cold and dead : For the Present reigns, our monarch, With an added weight of hours; Honor her, for she is mighty! Honor her, for she is ours! See the shadows of his heroes Girt around her cloudy throne; Every day the ranks are strengthened By great hearts to him unknown; Noble things the great Past promised, Holy dreams, both strange and new; But the Present shall fulfill them; What he promised, she shall do. She inherits all his treasures. She is heir to all his fame. And- the light that lightens round her Is the luster of his name; She is wise with all his wisdom, Living on his grave she stands. On her brow she bears his laurels. And his harvest in her hands. Coward, can she reign and conquer If we thus her glory dim? Let us fight for her as nobly As our fathers fought for him. God, who crowns the dying ages. Bids her rule, and us obey, — Bids us cast our lives before her. Bids us serve the great To-day. 180 ECLECTIC SERIES. XLin. THE BAPTISM. John "Wilson, 1785-18&1, a distinguished Scottisli author, was born at Paisley. Wlien fifteen years of age, he entered the University of Glas- gow ; but, three years later, he became a member of Magdalen College, Oxford. Here he attained eminence both as a student and as a pro- ficient in gymnastic games and exercises. Soon after graduating, he purchased an estate near Lake Windermere, and became a companion of Wordsworth and Southey ; but he soon left his estate to reside in Edinburgh. In 1817, when " Blackwood's Magazine " was established in opposition to the " Edinburgh Review," he became chief contributor to that famous periodical. In its pages, he won his chief fame as a writer. In 1820, he succeeded Dr. Thomas Brown as Professor of Moral Philoso- phy in the University of Edinburgh ; this position he held for thirty years. His " Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life " was published in 1822. This is a collection of pathetic and beautiful tales of domestic life in Scotland. His contributions to Blackwood appeared over the pseu- donym of " Christopher North," or more familiarly, " Kit North." Pro- fessor Wilson was a man of great physical power and of striking ap- pearance. In chai-acter, he wa-s vehement and impulsive; but his writings show that he possessed feelings of deep tenderness. The rite of baptism had not been performed for several months in the kirk of Lanark. It was now the hottest time of persecution; and the inhabitants of that parish found other places in Avhich to worship God, and celebrate the ordinances of religion. It Avas now the Sabbath-day, and a small congregation of about a hundred souls had met for divine service, in a place more magnificent than any temple that human hands had ever built to Deity. The congregation had not assembled to the toll of the bell, but each heart knew the hour and observed it; for there are a hundred sun-dials among the hills, Avoods, moors, and fields ; and the shepherd and the peasant see the hours passing by them in sunshine and shadow. The church in which they Avere assembled, Avas hewn by God's hand out of the eternal rock. A river rolled its way through a mighty chasm of clifls, several hundred feet high, of which the one side presented enormous masses, and the other corresponding recesses, as if the great stone girdle had been rent by a convulsion. The channel Avas SIXTH HEADER. 181 overspread with prodigious fragments of rocks or large loose stoues, some of them smooth aud bare, others con- taining soil and verdure in their rents and fissures, and here aud there crowned with shrubs and trees. The eye could at once command a long-stretching vista, seemingly closed and shut up at both extremities by the coalescing cliifs. This majestic reach of river contained pools, streams, and Avaterfalls innumerable ; aud when the Avater was low — which Avas now the case, in the common drought — it was easy to Avalk up this scene Avith the calm, blue sky OA^er- head, an utter and sublime solitude. On looking up, the soul Avas boAved down by the feeling of that prodigious height of unscalable, and often over- hanging, cliff. BetAA'een the channel and the summit of the far extended precipices, AAcre perpetually flying rooks and Avood-pigeons, and uoav and then a haAvk, filling the pro- found abyss with their Avild caAving, deep murmur, or shrilly shriek. Sometimes a heron Avould stand erect and still, on some little stone island, or rise up like a white cloud along the black Avails of the chasm, and disappear. Winged creatures alone could inhabit this region. The fox and Avild cat chose more accessible haunts. Yet, here came the persecuted Christians and worshiped God, Avhose hand hung OA^er their head those magnificent pillars and arches, scooped out those galleries from the solid rock, and laid at their feet the calm Avater, in its transparent beauty, in Avhich they could see themselves sitting, in reflected groups, Avith their Bibles in their hands. Here, upon a semicircular ledge of rocks, OA'er a narroAA' chasm, of Avhich the tiny stream played in a murmuring Avater-fall, and divided the congregation into tAA'o equal parts, sat about a hundred persons, all dcA^outly listening to their minister, Avho stood before them on Avhat might be called a small, natui'al pulpit of living stone. Up to it there led a short flight of steps, and over it AA-aA'ed the canopy of a tall, graceful birch tree. The pulpit stood in 182 ECLECTIC SERIES. the middle of the channel, directly facing the congregation, and separated from them by the clear, deep, sparkling pool, into which the scarce-heard water poured over the blackened rock. The water, as it left the pool, separated into two streams, and flowed on each side of that altar, thus placing it in an island, whose large, mossy stones were richly embowered under the golden blossoms and green tresses of the broom. At the close of divine service, a row of maidens, all clothed in purest white, came gliding off from the congre- gation, and, crossing the murmuring stream on stepping stones, arranged themselves at the foot of the pulpit with those who were about to be baptized. Their devout fathers, just as though they had been in their own kirk, had been sitting there during worship, and now stood up before the minister. The baptismal water, taken from that pellucid pool, was lying, consecrated, in an appropriate receptacle, formed by the upright stones that composed one side of the pulpit, and the holy rite proceeded. Some of the younger ones in that semicircle kept gazing down into the pool, in which the whole scene was reflected; and now and then, in spite of the gi'ave looks and admon- ishing Avhispers of their elders, letting fall a pebble into the water, that they might judge of its depth, from the length of time that elapsed before the clear air-bells lay sparkling on the agitated surface. The rite was over, and the religious service of the day closed by a psalm. The mighty rocks hemmed in the holy sound, and sent it in a more compact volume, clear, sweet, and strong, up to heaven. When the psalm ceased, an echo, like a spirit's voice, was heard dying away, high up among the magnif- icent architecture of the cliffs; and once more might be noticed in the silence, the reviving voice of the water-fall. Just then, a large stone fell from the top of the cliff" into the pool, a loud voice was heard, and a plaid was hung over on the point of a shepherd's staff*. • Their wake- SIXTH READER. 183 fill sentinel had descried danger, and this was his warning. Forthwith, the congregation rose. There were paths, dan- gerous to unpracticed feet, along the ledges of the rocks, leading up to several caves and places of concealment. The more active and young assisted the elder, more espe- cially the old pastor, and the women with the infants ; and many minutes had not elapsed, till not a living creature was visible in the channel of the stream, but all of them were hidden, or nearly so, in the clefts and caverns. The shepherd who had given the alarm, had lain down again instantly in his plaid on the green sward, upon the summit of these precipices. A party of soldiers was im- mediately upon him, and demanded what signals he had been making, and to whom ; when one of them, looking over the edge of the cliff, exclaimed, "See, see! Hum- phrey, we have caught the whole tabernacle ©f the Lord in a net at last. There they are, praising God among the stones of the river Mouse. These are the Cartland Craigs. A noble cathedral!" "Fling the lying sentinel over the cliffs. Here is a canting Covenanter for you, deceiving honest soldiers on the very Sabbath-day. Over with him, over with him ; out of the gallery into the pit." But the shepherd had vanished like a shadow, and, mixing with the tall, green broom and bushes, was making his unseen way toward a wood. "Satan has saved his servant; but come, my lads, follow me. I know the way down into the bed of the stream, and the steps up to Wallace's Cave. They are called, 'kittle nine stanes.' The hunt's up. We'll all be in at the death. Halloo ! my boys, halloo ! " The soldiers dashed down a less precipitous part of the wooded banks, a little below the "craigs," and hurried up the channel. But when they reached the altar where the old, gray-haired minister had been seen standing, and the rocks that had been covered with people, all Avas silent and solitary; not a creature to be seen. "Here is a Bible, dropped by some of them," cried a soldier, and, with his 184 ECLECTIC SERIES. , foot, he spun it away into the pool. "A bonnet, a bonnet," cried another; "now for the pretty, sanctified face, that rolled its demure eyes below it." But after a few jests and oaths, the soldiers stood still, eying with a kind of mysterious dread the black and silent walls of the rocks that hemmed them in, and hearing only the small voice of the stream that sent a profounder stillness through the heart of that majestic solitude. " What if these cowardly Covenanters should tumble down upon our heads pieces of rock, from their hiding-places! Advance, or retreat?" There was no reply; for a slight fear was upon every man. Musket or bayonet could be of little use to men obliged to clamber up rocks, along slender paths, leading they know not where. And they were aware that armed men nowadays worshiped God; men of iron hearts, who feared not -the glitter of the soldier's arms, neither barrel nor bayonet ; men of long stride, firm step, and broad breast, who, on the open field, would have overthrown the marshaled line, and gone first and foremost, if a city had to be taken by storm. As the soldiers were standing together irresolute, a noise came upon their ears like distant thunder, but even more appalling ; and a slight current of air, as if propelled by it, passed whispering along the sweet-briers, and the broom, and the tresses of the birch trees. It came deepening, and rolling, and roaring on ; and the very Cartland Craigs shook to their foundation, as if in an earthquake. "The Lord have mercy upon us! What is this?" And down fell many of the miserable wretches on their knees, and some on their faces, upon the sharp-pointed rocks. Now, it was Hke the sound of many myriads of chariots rolling on their iron axles down the strong channel of the torrent. The old, gray-haired minister issued from the mouth of Wallace's Cave, and said, in a loud voice, "The Lord God terrible reigneth ! " A water-spout had burst up among the moor-lands, and SIXTH READER. 185 the river, in its power, was at hand. There it came, tumbling aloug into that long reach of cliffs, and, in a moment, filled it with one mass of waves. Huge, agitated clouds of foam rode on the surface of a blood-red torrent. An army must have been swept off by that flood. The soldiers perished in a moment ; but high up in the cliffs, above the sweep of destruction, were the Covenanters, men, w^omen, and children, uttering jirayers to God, unheard by themselves, in the raging thunder. Notes. — Lanark is a small town in the valley of the Clyde, in Scotland. It is tliirty miles south-west from Edinburgh. Mouse River flows to the Clyde from the hills north of Lanark. Covenanter. — Under Charles I., the Scotch were so oppressed that they organized in resistance. The covenant was a famous pajaer, largely signed, in which they agreed to continue in the profession of their faith, and resist all errors. Wallace's Cave.— WilUam Wallace (b. 1270, d. 1305) was the foremost Scot of his times. He was declared, in the al> sence of the king, guardian of the kingdom. More than once was he outlawed and obliged to seek safety by concealment in the woods and caves. XLIV. SPARROWS. Adeline D. Train WTiitney, 1S24 , was born in Boston, and was educated in the school of Dr. George B. Emerson. Her father was Enoch Train, a well-known merchant of that city; at the age of nineteen, she became the wife of Mr. Setli D. Whitney. Her literary career began about 18.50, since which time she has written several novels and poems ; a number of tliem first appeared in the " Atlantic Monthly." Her writings are marked by grace aud sprightliness. Little birds sit on the telegraph Avires, And chitter, and flitter, and fold their wings ; May be they think that, for them and their sires. Stretched always, on purpose, those w'onderful strings: And, perhaps, the Thought that the world inspires, Did plan for the bu-ds, among other things. 6.— 16. 186 ECLECTIC SERIES. Little birds sit on the slender lines, And the news of the world runs under their feet, — How value rises, and how declines, How kings with their armies in battle meet, — And, all the while, 'mid the soundless signs. They chirp their small gossipings, foolish sweet. Little things light on the lines of our lives, — Hopes, and joys, and acts of to-day, — And we think that for these the Lord contrives, Nor catch what the hidden lightnings say. Yet, from end to end, His meaning arrives, And His word runs underneath, all the way. Is life only wires and lightning, then. Apart from that which about it clings? Are the thoughts, and the works, and the prayers of men Only sparrows that light on God's telegraph strings. Holding a moment, and gone again ? Nay ; He planned for the birds, with the larger things. XLV. OBSERVANCE OF THE SABBATH. Gardiner Spring, 1785-1873, was the son of Samuel Spring, D.I)., who was pastor of a Congregational church in Newburyport, Massachu- setts, for more than forty years. The son entered Yale College, and was valedictorian of his class in 1805. He studied law for a time ; then went to Bermuda, where he taught nearly two years. On his return he completed his law studies, and practiced his profession for more than a year. In 1810, having studied theologj' at Andover, he was ordained as pastor of the " Brick Church " in New York City. Here he remained till his death. He was elected president of Dartmouth College, and also of Hamilton, but declined both positions. His works, embracing about twenty octavo volumes, have passed through se^■eral editions; some have been trans- lated into foreign languages, and reprinted in Europe. As a preacher, Dr. Spring was eloquent and energetic. The Sabbath lies at the foundation of all true mo- rality. Morality flows from principle. Let the principles SIXTH READER. 187 of moral obligation become relaxed, and the practice of morality will not long survive the overthrow. No man can preserve his own morals, no parent can preserve the morals of his children, without the impressions of religious obliga- tion. If you can induce a community to doubt the genuine- ness and authenticity of the Scriptures ; to question the reality and obligations of religion ; to hesitate, undeciding, whether there be any such thing as virtue or vice; whether there be an eternal state of retribution beyond the grave ; or whether there exists any such being as God, you have broken down the barriers of moral virtue, and hoisted the flood-gates of immorality and crime. I need not say that when a people have once done this, they can no longer exist as a tranquil and hapjiy people. Every bond that holds society together would be ruptured ; fraud and treachery would take the place of confidence between man and man; the tribunals of justice would be scenes of bribery and in- justice; avarice, perjury, ambition, and revenge would walk through the land, and render it more like the dwelling of savage beasts than the tranquil abode of civilized and Christianized men. If there is an institution which opposes itself to this progress of human degeneracy, and throws a shield before the interests of moral virtue in our thoughtless and way- ward world, it is the Sabbath. In the fearful struggle be- tween virtue and vice, notwithstanding the powerful auxil- iaries which wickedness finds in the bosoms of men, and in the seductions and influence of popular example, wherever the Sabbath has been suffered to live, the trembling inter- ests of moral virtue have always been revered and sus- tained. One of the principal occupations of this day is to illustrate and enforce the great principles of sound morality. Where this sacred trust is preserved inviolate, you behold a nation convened one day in seven for the purpose of ac- quainting themselves with the best moral principles and pre- 188 , ECLECTIC SERIES. cepts; and it can not be otherwise than that the authority of moral virtue, under such auspices, should be acknowl- edged and felt. We may not, at once, perceive the effects which this weekly observance produces. Like most moral causes, it operates slowly; but it operates surely, and gradually weak- ens the power and breaks the yoke of profligacy and sin. No villain regards the Sabbath. No vicious family regards the Sabbath. No immoral community regards the Sabbath. The holy rest of this ever-memorable day is a barrier Avhich is always broken down before men become giants in sin. Blackstone, in his Commentaries on the Laws of England, remarks that ' ' a corruption of morals usually follows a profanation of the Sabbath." It is an observation of Lord Chief-justice Hale, that "of all the persons who were con- victed of capital crimes, while he was on the bench, he found a few only who would not confess that they began their career of wickedness by a neglect of the duties of the Sabbath and vicious conduct on that day." The prisons in our own land could probably tell us that they have scarcely a solitary tenant who had not broken over the restraints of the Sabbuth before he was abandoned to crime. You may enact laws for the suppres- sion of immorality, but the secret and silent power of the Sabbath constitutes a stronger shield to the vital interest of the community than any code of penal statutes that ever was enacted. The Sabbath is the keystone of the arch which sustains the temple of virtue, which, however de- faced, will survive many a rude shock so long as the foun- dation remains firm. The observance of the Sabbath is also most influential in securing national prosperity. The God of Heaven has said, "Them that honor me I will honor." You will not often find a notorious Sabbath-breaker a permanently pros- perous mUn ; and a Sabbath-breaking community is never a happy or prosperous community. There is a multitude of SIXTH READER. 189 unobserved influences which the Sabbath exerts upon the temporal welfare of men. It promotes the spirit of good order and harmony ; it elevates the poor from want ; it transforms squalid wretchedness; it imparts self-respect and elevation of character; it promotes softness and civility of manners; it brings together the rich and the poor upon one common level in the house of prayer; it purifies and strengthens the social afiections, and makes the family circle the center of allurement and the source of instruction, com- fort, and happiness. Like its own divine religion, " it has the promise of the life that now is and that which is to come," for men can not put themselves beyond the reach of hope and heaven so long as they treasure up this one command, "Remember the Sabbath-day, to keep it holy." Notes.— Sir "William Blackstone (b. 1723, d. 1780) was the son of a London silk mercer. He is celebrated • as the author of the " Commentaries on the Laws of England," now universally used by law students both in England and America. He once retired from the law through failure to secure a practice, but afterwards attained the highest honors in his i^rofession. See biographical notice on page 410. Sir Matthew Hale (b. 1609, d. 1676), was Lord Chief justice of England from 1671 to 1676. XL VI. GOD'S GOODNESS TO SUCH AS FEAR HIM. Fret not thyself because of evil-doers. Neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity ; For they shall soon be cut down like the grass. And wither as the green herb. . Trust in the Lord, and do good ; So shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord, 190 ECLECTIC SERIES. And he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; Trust also in him, and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, And thy judgment as the noonday. Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him. Fret not thyself because of him Avho prosj^ereth in his way, Because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass. Cease from anger, and forsake wrath: Fret not thyself in any wise to do evil, For evil-doers shall be cut off: But those that wait upon the Lord, they shall inherit the earth. For yet a little while, and the wicked shall not be; Yea, thou shalt diligently consider his place, and it shall not be. But the meek shall inherit the earth, And shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace. A little that a righteous man hath Is better than the riches of many wicked; For the arms of the wicked shall be broken. But the Lord upholdeth the righteous. The Lord knoweth the days of the upright, And their inheritance shall be forever; They shall not be ashamed in the evil time. And in the days of famine they shall be satisfied. But the wicked shall perish. And the enemies of the Lord shall be as the fat of lambs ; They shall consume ; into smoke shall they consume away. The wicked borroweth, and payeth not again; But the righteous sheweth mercy and giveth. For such as be blessed of him shall inherit the earth. SIXTH RE A DEB. 191 The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, And he delighteth in his way ; Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; For the Lord uplioldeth him with his hand. I have been young, and now am old, Yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, Nor his seed begging bread. He is ever merciful, and lendeth, And his seed is blessed. Depart from evil, and do good, And dwell for evermore; For the Lord loveth judgment, And forsaketh not his saints: They are preserved for ever: But the seed of the wicked shall be cut off. The righteous shall inherit the land, And dwell therein for ever. The mouth of the righteous speaketh wisdom, And his tongue talketh of judgment ; The law of his God is in his heart; None of his steps shall slide. The wicked Watclieth the righ'^eous, And seeketh to slay him. The Lord will not leave him in his hand, Nor condemn him when he is judged. Wait on the Lord, and keep his way, And he shall exalt thee to inherit the land ; When the wicked are cut off, thou shalt see it. I have seen the wicked in great power. And spreading himself like a green bay-tree; Yet he passed away, and, lo, he was not; Yea, I sought him, but he could not be found. — From tJie Tliirtyseventh Psalm. 192 ECLECTIC SERIES. XLVn. CHARACTER OF COLUMBUS. "Washington Irving, 1783-1859. Among those whose works have en- riched American literature, and have given it a place in the estimation of foreigners, no name stands higher than that of Washington Irving. He was born in the city of New York; his father was a native of Scotland, and his mother was English. He had an ordinary scliool education, and at the age of sixteen began the study of law. Two of his older brothers were interested In literary pursuits ; and in liis youth he studied the old English autliors. He was also passionately fond of books of travel. At the age of nineteen, he began his literary career by writing for a paper published by his brother. In 1804 he made a voyage to the south of Europe. On his return he completed his studies in law, but never prac- ticed his profession. " Salmagundi," his first book (partly written by others), was published in ISiJ?. This was followed, two years later, by "Knickerbocker's History of New York." Soon after, he entered into mercantile pursuits in company with two brothers. At the close of the war with England he sailed again for Europe, and remained abroad sev- enteen years. During his absence he formed the acquaintance of the most eminent literary men of his time, and wrote several of his works; among them were : " The Sketch Book," " Bracebridge Hall," " Tales of a Traveler," "Life and Voyages of Columbus," and the " Conquest of Gra- nada." On his return he made a journey west of the Mississippi, and gath- ered materials for several otlier books. From 1842 to 1846 he was Minister to Spain. On his return to America he established his residence at "Sunnyside," nearTarrytown, on the Hudson, where he passed the last years of his life. A young lady to whom he was attached having died in early life, Mr. Irving never married. His works are marke'l by humor, just sentiment, and elegance and cor- rectness of expression. They were popular both at home and abroad from the first, and their sale brought him a-liandsome fortune. The " Life of Washington," his last work, was completed in the same year in which he died. Columbus was a man of great and inventive genius. The operations of his mind were energetic, but irregular; bursting forth, at times, with that irresistible force which characterizes intellect of such an order. His ambition was lofty and noble, inspiring him with high thoughts and an anxiety to distinguish himself by great achievements. He aimed at dignity and wealth in the same elevated spirit with w^hich he sought renown; they were to rise, from the territories he should discover, and be commensurate in im- portance. SIXTH READER. . 193 His conduct was characterized by the grandeur of his views and the magnanimity of his spirit. Instead of ravag- ing the newly-found countries, like many of his cotemporary discoverers, who were intent only on immediate gain, he regarded them with the eyes of a legislator; he sought to colonize and cultivate them, to civilize the natives, to build cities, introduce the useful arts, subject every thing to the control of law, order, and religion, and thus to found regu- lar and prosperous empires. That he failed in this was the fault of the dissolute rabble which it was his misfortune to command, with whom all law was tyranny and all order oppression. He was naturally irascible and impetuous, and keenly sensible to injury and injustice; yet the quickness of his temper was counteracted by the generosity and benevolence of his heart. The magnanimity of his nature shone forth through all the troubles of his stormy career. Though con- tinually outraged in his dignity, braved in his authority, foiled in his plans, and endangered in his person by the seditions of turbulent and Avorthless men, and that, too, at times when suffering under anguish of body and anxiety of mind enough to exasjierate the most patient, yet he re- strained his valiant and indignant spirit, and brought him- self to forbear, and reason, and even to supplicate. Nor can the reader of the story of his eventful life fail to notice how free he was from all feeling of revenge, how ready to forgive and forget on tlie least sign of repentance and atonement. He has been exalted for his skill in controlling others, but far greater praise is due to him for the firmnes.s he displayed in governing himself. His piety was genuine and fervent. Religion mingled with the whole course of his thoughts and actions, and shone forth in his most private and unstudied writings. Whenever he made any great discovery he devoutly returned thanks to God. The voice of prayer and the melody of praise rose from his ships on discovering the new 6.— 17. 194 ECLECTIC SERIES. world, and Ms first action on landing was to prostrate him- self upon the earth and offer up thanksgiving. All his great enterprises were undertaken in the name of the Holy Trinity, and he partook of the holy sacrament previous to embarkation. He observed the festivals of the church in the wildest situations. The Sabbath was to him a day of sacred rest, on which he would never sail ft'om a port unless in case of extreme necessity. The religion thus deeply seated in his soul diffused a sober dignity and a benign composure over his whole deportment; his very language was pure and guarded, and free from all gross or irreverent expressions. A peculiar trait in his rich and varied character re- mains to be noticed; namely, that ardent and enthusiastic imagination Avhich threw a magnificence over his whole course of thought. A poetical temperament is discernible throughout all his writings and in all his actions. We see it in all his descriptions of the beauties of the wild land he was discovering, in the enthusiasm with which he extolled the blandness of the temperature, the purity of the atmos- pbere, the fragrance of the air, "full of dew and sweet- ness," the verdure of the forests, the grandeur of the mount- ains, and the crystal purity of the running streams. It spread a glorious and golden world around him, and tinged every thing with its own gorgeous colors. With all the visionary fervor of his imagination, its fondest dreams fell short of the reality. He died in igno- rance of the real grandeur of his discovery. Until his last breath, he entertained the idea that he had merely opened a new way to the old resorts of opulent commerce, and had discovered some of the wild regions of the East. What visions of glory would have broken upon his mind could he have known that he had indeed discovered a new continent equal to the old world in magnitude, and separated by two vast oceans from all the earth hitherto known by civilized man! How would his magnanimous spirit have been con- I SIXTH READER. 195 soled amid the afflictions of age and the cares of penury, the neglect of a fickle public and the injustice of an un- grateful king, could he have anticipated the splendid em- pires which would arise in the beautiful world he had dis- covered, and the nations, and tongues, and languages which were to fill its land with his renown, and to revere and bless his name to the latest posterity ! Note. — Christopher Columbus (b. 1436, d. 1506) was the son of a wool-comber of Genoa. At the age of fifteen he be- came a sailor, and in his voyages visited England, Iceland, the Guinea coast, and the Greek Isles. He was an earnest student of navigation, of cosmography, and of books of travel; thus he thoroughly prepared himself for the great undertaking which led to the discovery of America. He struggled against every discouragement for almost ten years before he could persuade -a sovereign to authorize and equip his expedition. XL VIII. " HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1809-1861. Miss Barrett was born in London, married the poet Robert Browning in 18i6, and afterwards re- sided in Italy most of the time till her death, which occurred at Flor- ence. She was thoroughly educated in severe and masculine studies, and began to write at a very early age. Her " Essay on Mind," a met- aphysical and reflective poem, was written at the age of sixteen. She wrote very rapidly, and her friend, Miss Mitford, tells us that " Lady Geraldine's Courtship," containing ninety-three stanzas, was composed in twelve hours! She published several other long poems, "Aurora Leigh " being one of the most highly finished. Mrs. Browning is re- garded as one of the most able female poets of modern times; but her writings are often obscure, and .some have doubted whether she always clearly conceived what she meant to express. She had a warm sym- pathy with all forms of suffering and distress. " He Giveth his Beloved Sleep " is one of the most beautiful of her minor poems. The thought is an amplification of verse 2d of Psalm cxxvii. Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward unto souls afar. Along the Psalmist's music deep, Now tell me if that any is, 196 ECLECTIC SERIES. For gift or grace, surpassing this, — "He giveth his beloved, sleep!" What would we give to our beloved? The hero's heart to be unmoved, The poet's star-tuned harp, to sweep. The patriot's voice, to teach and rouse. The monarch's crown, to light the brows? — "He giveth his beloved, sleep." What do we give to our beloved? A little faith all undisproved, A little dust to overweep, And bitter memories to make The whole earth blasted for our sake, — " He giveth his beloved, sleep." "Sleep soft, beloved!" we sometimes say. But have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep. But never doleful dream again Shall break his haj)py slumber when "He giveth his beloved, sleep." O earth, so full of dreaxy noises I O men, with wailing in your voices! O delved gold, tlie wailers heap! O strife, O curse, tliat o'er it fall ! God strikes a silence through you all. And "giveth his beloved, sleep." His dews drop mutely on the hill ; His cloud above it saileth still. Though on its slope men sow and reap. SIXTH READER. 197 More softly than the clew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, "He giveth his beloved, sleep." Ay, men may wonder Avhile they scan A living, thinking, feeling man, Confirmed in such a rest to keep ; But angels say — and through the word I think their happy smile is heard — "He giveth his beloved, sleep." For me my heart, that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show. That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would now its wearied vision close. Would childlike on his love repose Who "givetli his beloved, sleep." And friends, dear friends, — when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And round my bier ye come to weep. Let one most loving of you all Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall; 'He giveth his beloved, sleep.'" XLIX. DESCRIPTION OF A SIEGE. "The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, al- though only a few are advanced from its dark shadow." "Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe. "Under no ensign which I can observe," answered Eebecca. " A singular novelty," nmttered the knight, " to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed. Seest thou 198 ECLECTIC SERIES. who they be that act as leaders?" "A knight clad in sable armor is the most conspicuous," said the Jewess: "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him." "Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious inquirer. "None of mark and distinction that I can be- hold from this station," said Rebecca, " but doubtless the other side of the castle is also assailed. They seem, even now, preparing to advance. God of Zion protect us! What a dreadful sight ! Those who advance first bear huge shields and defenses made of plank: the others follow, bending their bows as they come on. They raise their bows! God of Moses, forgive the creatures thou hast made ! " Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, which, mingled with the deep and hollow clang of the kettle-drums, retorted in notes of defiance the challenge of the enemy. The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the assailants cry- ing, "Saint George, for merry England!" and the Nor- mans answering them with loud cries of "Onward, De Bracy ! Front de Boeuf, to the rescue ! " "And I must lie here like a bed-ridden monk," exclaimed Ivauhoe, " w'hile the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others! Look from the window once again, kind maiden, and tell me if they yet advance to the storm." With j)atient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Kebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be exposed to the arrows of the arch- ers. "What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the Avounded knight. "Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying 80 thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them." "That can not endure," said Ivanhoe. SIXTH READEB. 199 " If they press not right on, to carry the castle by force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the knight in dark armor, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, so will his followers be." "I see him not," said Rebecca. "Foul craven!" ex- claimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm when the wind blows highest?" "He blenches not! he blenches not!" said Rebecca; "I see him now: he leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbacan. They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the bar- riers with axes. His high, black plume, floats abroad over the throng like a raven over the field of the slain. They have made a breach in the barriers, they rush in, they are thrust back! Front de Boeuf heads the defenders. I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed, hand to hand, and man to man. God of Jacob! it is the meeting of two fierce tides, the conflict of two oceans moved by adverse winds ; " and she turned her head from the window as if unable longer to endure a sight so terrible. Speedily recovering her self-control, Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, "Holy prophets of the law! Front de Boiuf and the Black Knight fight hand to hand on the breach, amid the roar of their follow- ers, who watch the progress of the strife. Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed and of the captive ! " She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, "He is down! he is down!" "Who is down!" cried Ivanhoe; "for our dear Lady's sake, tell me which has fallen!" "The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly ; then instantly again shouted with joyful eagerness — "But no! but no! the name of the Lord of Hosts be blessed ! he is on foot again, and fights as if there were twenty men's strength in his single arm — his sword is broken — he snatches an ax from a yeoman — he presses Front de Boeuf, blow on blow — the 200 ECLECTIC SERIES. giant stoops and totters like an oak under the steel of the woodman — he falls — he falls!" "Front de Boeuf?" ex- claimed Ivanhoe. "Front de Bceuf," answered the Jewess; " his men rush to the rescue, headed by the haughty Templar, — their united force compels the champion to pause — they drag Front de Boeuf within the walls." "The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe. "They have — they have — and they press the besieged hard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and endeavor to ascend upon the shoulders of each other ; down go stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault. Great God ! hast thou given men thine own image that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!" "Think not of that," replied Ivanhoe; "this is no time for such thoughts. Who yield? Who push their way?" "The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shud- dering; " the soldiers lie groveling under them like crushed reptiles; the besieged have the better." "Saint George strike for us!" said the knight; "do the false yeomen give way?" "No," exclaimed Rebecca, "they bear themselves right yeomanly ; the Black Knight approaches the postern Avith his huge ax : the thundering blows whicli he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of the battle; stones and beams are hailed down on the brave champion ; he regards them no more than if they were thistle-down and feathers." "Saint John of Acre!" said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch, " methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed." "The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; "it crashes — it is splin- tered by his powerful blows — they rush in — the outwork is won ! O God ! they hurry the defenders from the battle- ments — they throw them into the moat! O men, if ye be SIXTH READER. 201 indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer!" "The bridge — the bridge which communicates with the castle — have they won that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe. "No," re- plied Rebecca; "the Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed — few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle — the shrieks and cries which you hear, tell the fate of the others. Alas! I see that it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle." "What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; "look fortt yet again — this is no time to faint at bloodshed." "It is over, for a time," said Rebecca; "our friends strengthen themselves within the outwork which they have mastered." "Our friends," said Ivanhoe, " Avill surely not abandon an enterprise so gloriously begun, and so happily attained; Oh no! I will put my faith in the good knight whose ax has rent heart of oak and bars of iron. Singu- lar," he again muttered to himself, "if there can be two who are capable of such achievements. It is, — it must be Richard Coeur de Lion." " Seest thou nothing else, Rebecca, by which the Black Knight may be distinguished?" "Nothing," said the Jew- ess, "all about him is as black as the wing of the night- raven. Nothing can I spy that can mark him further ; but having once seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know him again among a thousand war- riors. He rushes to the fray as if he were summoned to a banquet. There is more than mere strength ; it seems as if the whole soul and spirit of the champion were given to every blow which he deals upon his enemies. God forgive him the sin of bloodshed ! it is fearful, yet magnificent, to behold how the arm and heart of one man can triumph over hundreds." — Walter Scott. Notes. — Ivanhoe, a wounded knight, and Rebecca, a Jew- ess, had been imprisoned in the castle of Reginald. Front de 202 ECLECTIC SERIES. Boeuf. The friends of the prisoners undertake their rescue. At the request of Ivanhoe, who is unable to leave his couch, Rebecca takes her stand near a window overlooking the ap- proach to the castle, and details to the knight the incidents of the contest as they take place. Front de Boeuf and his gar- rison were Normans; the besiegers, Saxons. The castles of this time (twelfth century) usually con- sisted of a keep, or castle proper, surrounded at some dis- tance by two walls, one within the other. Each wall was en- circled on its outer side by a moat, or ditch, which was filled with water, and was crossed by means of a dra"W-brid.ge. Be- fore the main entrance of the outer wall was an outwork called the barbacan, which was a high wall surmounted by battle- ments and turrets, built to defend the gate and draw-bridge. Here, also, were placed barriers of palisades, etc., to impede the advance of an attacking force. The postern gate was small, and was usually some distance from the ground; it was used for the egress of messengers during a siege. L. MARCO BOZZARIS. Fitz-Greene Halleck, 1790-1867, vvjis born in Guilford, Connecticut. At the age of eighteen lie entered a biinliiug-house in New Yorli, where he remained a long time. For many years he was book-keeper and assist- ant in business for John Jacob Astor. Nearly all his poems were written before he was forty years old, several of tliem in connection with his friend Joseph Rodman Dralte. His "Young America," however, was written but a few years before his death. Mr. Halleck's poetry is care- fully finished and musical ; much of it is sportive, and some satirical. No one of his poems is better known than " Marco Bozzaris." At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power. In dreams, through camp and court he bore The trophies of a conqueror; In dreams, his song of tritnnph heard ; SIXTH READER. 203 Then wore his monarch's signet-ring: Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king: As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird. At midnight, in the forest shades, Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band. True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian's thousands stood. There had the glad earth drunk their blood. On old Platsea's day : And now there breathed that haunted air. The sons of sires who conquered there. With arms to strike, and soul to dare, As quick, as far as they. An hour passed on — the Turk awoke; That bright dream Avas his last: He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!" He wojie — to die mid flame and smoke. And shout, and groan, and saber-stroke, And death-shots falling thick and fast As lightnings from the mountain-cloud; And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band: "Strike — till the last armed foe expires; Strike — for your altars and your fires; Strike — for the green graves of your sires ; God — and your native land!" They fought — like brave men, long a«d Avell; They piled that ground with Moslem slain; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 204 ECLECTIC SERIES. 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. 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 That close the pestilence are broke. And crowded cities wail its stroke; Come in consumption's ghastly form. The earthquake's 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 Ave know, or dream, or fear Of agony, are thine. 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 Avei'e not born to die. SIXTH READER. 205 Notes. — Marco Bozzaris (b. about 1790, d. 1823) was a famous Gi'eek patriot. His family were Suliotes, a people in- habiting the Suli Mountains, and bitter enemies of the Turks. Bozzaris was engaged in war against the latter nearly all his life, and finally fell in a night attack upon their camp near Carpenisi. This poem, a fitting tribute to his memory, har been translated into modern Greek. Plataea was the scene of a great victory of tlie Greeks over the Persians in the year 479 B. C. Moslera. — The followers of Mohammed are called Moslems. LI. SONG OP THE GREEK BARD. George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron, 1788-1824. This gifted poet was the sou of a profligate father and of a fickle and passionate mother. He was afflicted with lameness fi-om his birth; and, although he succeeded to his great-uncle's title at ten years of age, he inherited financial em- barrassment with it. These may be some of the reasons for the morbid and wayward character of the youthful genius. It is certain that he was not lacking in affection, nor in generosity. In his college days, at Cam- bridge, he was willful and carelessof his studies. " Hours of Idleness," his first book, appeared in 1807. It was severely treated by the "Edinburgh Review," which called forth his " English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," in 1809. Soon after, he went abroad for two j^oars ; and, on his return, pub- lished the first two cantos of " Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," a work that made him suddenly famous. He married in 1815, but separated from his wife after one year. Soured and bitter, he now left England, purposing never to return. He spent most of the next seven years in Italy, Avhere most of his poems were written. The last year of his life was spent in Greece, aiding in her struggle for liberty against the Turks. He died at Missolonghi. As a man, Byron was impetuous, morbid and passionate. He was undoubtedly dissipated and immoral, but perhaps to a less de- gree than has sometimes been asserted. As a poet, he possessed noble powers, and he has written much that will last; in general, however, his poetry is not wholesome, and his fame is less than it once was. The isles of Greece ! the isles' of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, — Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set. 206 ECLECTIC SERIES. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse; - Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' "Islands of the Blest." The mountains look on Marathon, And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For, standing on the Persian's grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sat on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below. And men in* nations, — all were his! He counted them at break of day, — And when the sun set, where were they? And where are they? And where art thou. My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now, — The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine? Must we but weep o'er days more blest? Must we but blush? Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred, grant but three. To make a new Thermopylie! SIXTH READER. 207 What! silent still? and silent all? Ah ! no ; — ■ the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, "Let one living head, But one, arise, — we come, we come!" 'Tis but the living who are dumb! In vain — in vain! — strike other chords; Fill high the cup with Samian wine ! Leave battles to the Turkish hordes. And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! Hark! rising to the ignoble call, How answers each bold Bacchanal! You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave; Think ye he meant them for a slave? Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! We will not think of themes like these! It made Anacreon's song divine: He served, but served Poly crates, A tyrant ; but our masters then Were still, at least, our countrymen. The tyrant of the Chersonese Was freedom's best and bravest friend ; That tyrant was Miltiades ! Oh that the present hour would lend Another despot of the kind ! Such chains as his were sure to bind. 208 ECLECTIC SERIES. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! Our virgins dance beneath the shade ; I see their glorious, black eyes shine ; But gazing on each glowing maid, My own the burning tear-drop laves. To think such breasts must suckle slaves. Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, AVliere nothing save the waves and I May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die : A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine, — Dash down yon cup of Samian wine! Notes. — Sappho was a Greek poetess living on the island of Lesbos, about 600 B. C. Delos is one of the Grecian Ar- chipelago, and is of volcanic origin. The ancient Greeks be- lieved that it rose from the sea at a stroke from Neptune's trident, and was moored fast to the bottom by Jupiter. It was the supposed birth-i^lace of Phoebus, or Apollo. The island of Chios, or Scios, is one of the places Avhich claim to be the birth-place of Homer. Teios, or Teos, a city in Ionia, is the birth-place of the Greek poet Anacreon. The Islands of the Blest, mentioned in ancient poetry, were imaginary islands in the west, where, it was believed, the favorites of the gods were conveyed without dying. At Marathon (490 B. C), on the east coast of Greece, 11,000 Greeks, under the generalship of Miltiades, routed 110,000 Per- sians. The island of Salamis lies very near the Greek coast: in the narrow channel between, the Greek fleet almost de- stroyed (480 B. C.) that of Xerxes, the Persian king, who wit- nessed the contest from a throne on the mountain side. Ther- mopylae is a narrow mountain pass in Greece, where Leonidas, with 300 Spartans and about 1,100 other Greeks, held the en- tire Persian army in check until every Spartan, except one, was slain. Samos is one of the Grecian Archipelago, noted for its cultivation of the vine and olive. SIXTH READER. 209 A Bacchanal was a disciple of Bacchus, the god of wine. Pyrrhus was a Greek, and one of the greatest generals of the world. The phalanx was an almost invincible arrangement of troops, massed in close array, with their shields overlapping one another, and their spears projecting; this form of military tactics was peculiar to the Greeks. Polycrates seized the island of Samos, and made himself tyrant : he was entrajDped and crucified in 522 B. C. Cher- sonese is the ancient name for a peninsula. Sunium is the name of a promontory south-east of Athens. LII. NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS. Charles Sprague, 1791-1875, was born in Boston, and received his edu- cation in the public schools of that city. For sixteen years he was en- gaged in mercantile pursuits, as clerk and partner. In 1820 he became teller in a bank ; and, from 1825, he tilled the office of cashier of the Globe Bank for about forty years. In 1829 he gave his most fiimous poem, " Curi- osity," before tlie Phi Beta Kappa society, in C'ambridge. An active man of business all his days, he has written but little either in prose or poetry, but that little is excellent in quality, graceful, and pleasing. The address from which this extnict is taken, was delivered before the citizens of Boston, July 4th, 1825. Not many generations ago, where you now sit, encircled with all that exalts and embellishes civilized life, the rank thistle nodded in the wind and the wild fox dug his hole unscared. Here lived and loved another race of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your head, the Indian hunter pursued the panting deer ; gazing on the same moon that smiles for you, the Indian lover wooed his dusky mate. Here the wigwam blaze beamed on the tender and helpless, and the council-fire glared on the wise and daring. Now they dipped their noble limbs in your sedgy lakes, and now they paddled the light canoe along your rocky shores. Hete they warred ; the echoing whoop, the bloody grapple, the defying death-song, all were here ; and when the tiger- strife was over, here curled the smoke of peace. 6.— 18. 210 ^ ECLECTIC SERIES. Here, too, they worshiped ; and from many a dark hosom went up a fervent prayer to the Great Spirit. He had not written his laws for them on tables of stone, but he had traced them on the tables of their hearts. The poor child of nature knew not the God of Revelation, but the God of the universe he acknowledged in every thing around. He beheld him in the star that sank in beauty behind his lonely dwelling; in the sacred orb that flamed on him from his midday throne; in the flower that snapped in the morn^ ing breeze ; in the lofty pine that defied a thousand whirl- winds ; in the timid warbler that never left its native grove; in the fearless eagle, whose untired pinion was wet in clouds; in the worm that crawled at his feet; and in his own matchless form, glowing with a spark of that light, to whose mysterious source he bent in humble though blind adoration. And all this has passed away. Across the ocean came a pilgrim bark, bearing the seeds of life and death. The former were sown for you; the latter sprang up in the path of the simple native. Two hundred years have changed the character of a great continent, and blotted forever from its face a whole, peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and the anointed children of education have been too powerful for the tribes of the ignorant. Here and there a stricken few remain ; but how unlike their bold, untamable progenitors. The Indian of falcon glance and lion bearing, the theme of the touching ballad, the hero of the pathetic tale is gone, and his degraded off*- spring crawls upon the soil where he walked in majesty, to remind us how miserable is man when the foot of the con- queror is on his neck. As a race they have withered from the land. Their arrows are broken, their springs are dried up, their cabins are in the dust. Their council-fire has long since gone out on the shore, and their war-cry is fast fading to the un- trodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the distant SIXTH HEADER. 211 mountains, and read their doom in the setting sun. They are shrinking before the mighty tide which is pressing them away; they must soon hear the roar of the last wave which will settle over them forever. Ages hence, the inquisitive white man, as he stands by some growing city, will ponder on the structure of their disturbed remains, and wonder to what manner of persons they belonged. They will live only in the songs and chronicles of their exterminators. Let these be faithful to their rude virtues as men, and pay due tribute to their unhappy fate as a people. LIII. LOCHIEL'S WARNING. Thomas Campbell, 1777-1844, was a descendant of the famous clan of Campbells, in Kirnan, Scotland, and was born at Glasgow. At the age of thirteen he entered the university in that city, from which he graduated with distinction, especially as a Greek scholar; his translations of Greek tragedy were considered without parallel in the history of the univei'sity. During the first year after graduation, he wrote several poems of minor importance. He then removed to Edinburgh and adopted literature as his profession ; here his " Pleasures of Hope " was published in 1799, and achieved immediate success. He traveled extensively on the continent, and during his absence wrote " Lochiel's Warning," " Hohenllnden," and other minor poems. In 1809 he published " Gertrude of "Wyoming ; " from 1820 to 18:50 he edited the " New Monthly Magazine." In 1826 he was chosen lord rector of the University of Glasgow, to which office he was twice re-elected. He was active in founding the University of London. During the last years of his life he produced but little of note. He died at Boulogne, in France. During most of his life he was in straitened pecuniary circumstances, and ill-health and family afHictions cast a melancholy over his later years. His poems were written with much care, and are uniformly smooth and musical. /Seer. Lochiel! Lochiel! beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight. They rally, they bleed, for their kingdom and crown; Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! 212 ECLECTIC SEEIES. Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain. But hark ! through the fast-flashing lightning of war, What steed to the desert flies frantic and far? 'Tis thine, O Glenullin! whose bride shall await Like a love-lighted watch-fire all night at the gate. A steed comes at morning, — no rider is there, — But its bridle is red with the sign of despair. Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity led ! Oh, weeji! but thy tears can not number the dead: For a merciless sword on Culloden shall wave, — Culloden! that reeks with the blood of the brave. Loch. Go preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer! Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear. Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight, This mantle, tt) cover the phantoms of fright. Seer. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain thy plume shall be torn! Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth From his home in the dark-rolling clouds of the north? Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-speeding, he rode Companionless, bearing destruction abroad ; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! Ah ! home let him speed, for the spoiler is nigh. Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie that beacons the darkness of heaven. crested Lochiel ! the peerless in might. Whose banners arise on the battlements' height. Heaven's fire is around tliee, to blast and to burn ; Return to thy dwelling ! all lonely return ! For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood. And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood. SIXTH READER. 213 Jjoch. False wizard, avaunt! I have marshaled my clan, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one ! They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death. Then welcome be Cumberland's steed to the shock ! Let him dash his proud foam like a Avave on the rock ! But woe to his kindred, and woe to his cause. When Albin her claymore indignantly draws ; When her bonneted chieftains to victory crowd, Clanronald the dauntless, and Moray the proud. All plaided and plumed in their tartan array — 8eer. Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day! For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal. But man can not cover what God would reveal : 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore. And coming events cast their shadows before. I tell thee, Culloden's dread echoes shall ring With the blood-hounds that bark for thy fugitive king. Lo! anointed by heaven with the vials of wrath, Behold where he flies on his desolate path ! Now, in darkness and billows, he sweeps from my sight : Rise, rise ! ye wild tempests, and cover his flight ! 'T is finished. Their thunders are hushed on the moors ; Culloden is lost, and my country deplores. But where is the iron-bound prisoner ? Where ? For the red eye of battle is shut in despair. Say, mounts he the ocean wave, banished, forlorn, Like a limb from his country, cast bleeding and torn? Ah no ! for a darker departure is near ; The war-drum is nmftled, and black is the bier; His death-bell is tolling; O mercy, dispel Yon sight that it freezes my spirit to tell ! 214 ECLECTIC SERIES. Life flutters convulsed in his quivering limbs, And his blood-streaming nostril in agony swims. Accursed be the fagots that blaze at his feet, Where his heart shall be thrown ere it ceases to beat, With the smoke of its ashes to poison the gale — Loch. Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: For never shall Albin a destiny meet So black with dishonor, so foul with retreat. Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains. While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field and his feet to the foe! And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame. Notes. — Lochiel was a brave and influential Highland chief- tain. He espoused the cause of Charles Stuart, called the Pre- tender, who claimed the British throne. In the preceding piece, he is supposed to be marching with the warriors of his clan to join Charles's army. On his way he is met by a Seer, who having, according to the popular superstition, the gift of second-sight, or jjrophecy, forewarns him of the disastrous event of the enterprise, and exliorts him to return home and avoid the destruction which certainly awaits him, and which afterward fell upon him at the battle of Oulloden, in 1746. Fn tliis battle the Highlanders were commanded by Chai-les in person, and the English by the Duke of Cumberland. The Highlanders were completely routed, and the Pretender's re- bellion brought to a close. He himself shortly afterward made a narrow escape by water from the west of Scotland; hence the reference to the fugitive king. Albin is the poetic name of Scotland, more particularly the Highlands. The iron-bound prisoner refers to Lochiel. SIXTH READER. 215 LIV. ON HAPPINESS OF TEMPER. Oliver Goldsmith, 172S-1774. This eccentric son of genius was an Irishman ; his father was a poor curate. Goldsmith received his educa- tion at several preparatory schools, at Trinity College, Dublin, at Edin- burgh, and at Leyden. He was indolent and unruly as a student, often in disgrace with his teachers; but his generosity, recklessness, and love of athletic sports made him a favorite with his fellow-students. He spent some time in wandering over the continent, often in poverty and Avant. In IT.'Se he returned to Engkiud, and soon took up his abode in London. Here he made the acquaintance and friendship of several notable men, among whom were Johnson and Sir Joshua Reynolds. " The Trav- eler" was published in 1764, and was soon followed by the "Vicar of Wakefield." He wrote in nearly all departments of literature, and always with puritj', grace, and fluency. His fame as a poet is secured by the " Traveler " and the " Deserted Village ; " as a dramatist, by " She Stoops to Conquer; " as a satirist, by the " Citizen of the World ; " and as a novelist by the " Vicar of Wakefield." In his later years his writings were the source of a large income, but his gambling, careless generosity, and reckless extravagance always kept him in financial difllculty, and he died heavily in debt. His monument is in Westminster Abbey. Writers of every age have endeavored to show that pleasure is in us, and not in the objects offered for our amusement. If the soul be happily disposed, every thing becomes capable of affording entertainment, and distress will almost want a name. Every occurrence passes in review, like the figures of a procession ; some may be awkward, others ill-dressed, but none but a fool is on that account enl^aged with the master of ceremonies. I remember to have once seen a slave, in a fortification in Flanders, who appeared no way touched with his situa- tion. He was maimed, deformed, and chained ; obliged to toil from the appearance of day till night-fall, and con- deinned to this for life; yet, with all these circumstances of apparent wretchedness, he sang, would have danced, but that he wanted a leg, and appeared the merriest, happiest man of all the garrison. What a practical philosopher was here! A happy constitution suppUed philosophy, and though seemingly destitute of wisdom he was really wise, No reading or study had contributed to disenchant the 216 ECLECTIC SERIES. fairy-land around him. Every thing furnished him with an opportunity of mirth; and though some thought him, from his insensibility, a fool, he was such an idiot as philosophers should wish to imitate. They who, like that slave, can place themselves on that side of the world in which every thing appears in a pleas- ant light, will find something in every occurrence to excite their good humor. The most calamitous events, either to themselves or others, can bring no new afliiction; the world is to them a theater, in which only comedies are acted. All the bustle of heroism, or the aspirations of ambition, seem only "to heighten the absurdity of the scene, and make the humor more poignant. They feel, in short, as little anguish at their own distress, or the complaints of others, as the undertaker, though dressed in black, feels sorrow at a funeral. Of all the men I ever read of, the famous Cardinal de Retz possessed this happiness in the highest degree. When fortune wore her angriest look, and he fell into the poAver of Cardinal Mazai'in, his most deadly enemy, (being con- fined a close prisoner in the castle of Valenciennes,) he nevei- attempted to support his distress by wisdom or phi- losopliy, for he pretended to neitlier. He only laughed at himself and his persecutor, and seemed infinitely pleased at his new situation. In this mansion of distress, though denied all amusements, and even the conveniences of life, and entirely cut off from all intercourse with his friends, he still retained his good humor, laughed at the little spite of his enemies, and carried the jest so far as to write the life of his jailer. All that the wisdom of the proud can teach, is to be stubborn or sullen under misfortunes. The Cardinal's ex- amjile will teach us to be good-humored in circumstances of the highest affliction. It matters not whether our good humor be construed by others into insensibility or idiot- ism, — it js happiness to ourselves; and none but a fool SIXTH HEADER. 217 could measure his satisfaction by what the Avorld thinks of it. The happiest fellow I ever knew, was of the number of those good-natured creatures that are said to do no harm to anybody but themselves. Whenever he fell into any misery, he called it "seeing life." If his head was broken by a chairman, or his pocket picked by a sharper, he com- forted himself by imitating the Hibernian dialect of the one, or the more fashionable cant of the other. Nothing came amiss to him. His inattention to money matters had concerned his father to such a degree that all intercession of friends was fruitless. The old gentleman w^as on his death-bed. The whole family (and Dick among the num- ber) gathered around him. "I leave my second son, Andrew," said the expiring miser, "my whole estate, and desire him to be frugal." Andrew, in a sorrowful tone (as is usual on such occa- sions), prayed heaven to prolong his life and health to enjoy it himself. " I recommend Simon, my third son, to the care of his elder brother, and leave him, besides, four thousand pounds." "Ah, father!" cried Simon (in great affliction, to be sure), "may heaven give you life and health to enjoy it yourself! " At last, turning to poor Dick: "As for you, you have always been a sad dog; you '11 never come to good ; you '11 never be rich ; I leave you a shilling to buy a halter." "Ah, father!" cries Dick, without any emotion, "may heaven give you life and health to enjoy it yourself! " Notes. — Cardinal de Retz, Jean Francois Paul de Gondi (b. 1614, d. 1679), was leader of the revolt against Jules Mazarin (b. 1602, d. 1661), the prime minister of France dur- ing the minority of Louis XIV. This led to a war which lasted four or five years. After peace had been concluded, and Louis XIV. established on the throne, Mazarin was rein- stated in power, and Cardinal de Retz was imprisoned. Flanders, formerly part of the Netherlands, is now in- cluded in Belgium, Holland and France. , 6.— 19. 218 ECLECTIC SERIES. LV. THE FORTUNE-TELLER. Henry Mackenzie, 1V45-1S31, was born in Edinburgh, educatprl at the university tliere, and died in the same city. He was an attorney by pro- fession, and was the associate of many famous literary men residing at that time in Edinburgh. His fame as a writer rests cliietly on two novels, " The Man of Feeling " and " The Man of the World ; " both were published before the author was forty years old. Harley sat- down on a large stone by the wayside, to take a pebble from his shoe, when he saw, at some dis- tance, a beggar approaching him. He Imd on a loose sort of coat, mended with diiFerent colored rags, among which the blue and russet were predominant. He had a short, knotty stick in his hand, and on the top of it was stuck a ram's horn ; he wore no shoes, and his stockings had en- tirely lost that part of them which would have covered his feet and ankles; in his face, however, was the plump ap- pearance of good humor ; he walked a good, round pace, and a crook-legged dog trotted at his heels. "Our delicacies," said Harley to himself, "are fantastic; they are not in nature! That beggar walks over the sharpest of these stones barefooted, whilst I have lost the most delightfid dream in the world from the smallest of them happening to get into my shoe." The beggar had by this time come up, and, pulling off a piece of a hat, asked charity of Harley. The dog began to beg, too. It was impossible to resist both; and, in truth, the want of shoes and stockings had made both unnecessary, for Harley had destined sixpence for him before. The beggar, on receiving it, poured forth blessings with- out number ; and, with a sort of smile on his countenance, said to Harley that if he wanted to have his fortune told — Harley turned his eye briskly upon the beggar ; it was an unpromising look for the subject of a prediction, and silenced the prophet immediately. "I would much rather learn," said Harley, " what it is in your power to SIXTH READER. 219 tell me. Your trade must be an entertaining one; sit down on this stone, and let me know something of your profession; I have often thought of turning fortune-teller for a week or two, myself." "Master," replied the beggar, "I like your frankness much, for I had the humor of plain dealing in me from a child ; but there is no doing with it in this world, — we must do as we can; and lying is, as you call it, my pro- fession. But I was in some sort forced to the trade, for I once dealt in telling the truth. I was a laborer, sir, and gained as much as to make me live. I never laid by, in- deed, for I was reckoned a piece of a wag, and your wags, I take it, are seldom rich, Mr. Harley." "So," said Har- ley, "you seem to know me." "Ay, there are fcAv folks in the country that I don't know something of. How should I tell fortunes else?" "True, — but go on with your story; you were a laborer, you say, and a wag; your in- dustry, I suppose, you left with your old trade; but your humor you preserved to be of use to you in your new." "What signifies sadness, sir? A man grows lean on't. But I Avas brought to my idleness by degrees; sickness first disabled me, and it went against my stomach to work, ever after. But, in truth, I was for a long time so weak that I spit blood whenever I attempted to work. I had no relation living, and I never kept a friend above a week when I was able to joke. Thus I was forced to beg my bread, and a sorry trade I have found it, Mr. Harley. I told all my misfortunes truly, but they were seldom be- lieved; and the few who gave me a half-penny as they passed, did it with a shake of the head, and an injunction not to trouble them with a long story. In short, I found that people don't care to give alms without some security for their money,— such as a wooden leg, or a w^ithered arm, for example. So I changed my plan, and instead of telling my own misfortunes, began to prophesy happiness to others. 220 ECLECTIC SERIES. "This I found by much the better way. Folks will always listen when the tale is their own, and of many who say they do not believe in fortune-telling, I have known few on whom it had not a very sensible effect. I pick up the names of their acquaintance ; amours and little squab- bles are easily gleaned from among servants and neigh- bors; and, indeed, people themselves are the best intelli- gencers in the world for our purpose. They dare not puzzle us for their own sakes, for every one is anxious to hear what they wish to believe ; and they who repeat it, to laugh at it when they have done, are generally more serious than their hearers are apt to imagine. With a tol- erably good memory, and some share of cunning, I succeed reasonably well as a fortune-teller. With this, and show- ing the tricks of that dog, I make shift to pick up a live- lihood. "My trade is none of the most honest, yet people are not much cheated after all, who give a few half-pence for a jirospect of hajipiness, which I have heard some persons say, is all a man can arrive at in this world. But I must bid you good-day, sir ; for I have three miles to walk be- fore noon, to inform some boarding-school young ladies whether their husbands are to be peers of the realm or captains in the army ; a question which I promised to answer them by that time." Harley had drawn a shilling from his pocket; but Virtue bade him to consider on whom he was going to bestow it. Virtue held back his arm ; but a milder form, a younger sister of Virtue's, not so severe as Virtue, nor so serious as Pity, smiled upon him ; his fingers lost their com- pression; nor did Virtue appear to catch the money as it fell. It had no sooner reached the ground than the watch- ful cur (a trick he had been taught) snapped it up; and, contrary to the most approved method of stewardship, de- livered it immediately into the hands of his master. SIXTH READER. 221 LVI. RIENZI'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS. Mary Russell Mitford, 178&-1855. She was the daughter of a phy- sician, and was born in Hampshire, England. At twenty years of age, she published tliree volumes of poems; and soon after entered upon lit- erature as a life-long occupation. She wrote tales, sketches, poems, and dramas. " Our Village " is the best known of her prose works ; the book describes the daily life of a rural people, is simple but finished in stjie, and is marked by mingled humor and pathos. Her most noted drama is " Kienzi." Miss Mitford passed the last forty years of her life in a little cottage in Berkshire, among a simple, country people, to whom she was greatly endeared by her kindness and social virtues. I COME not here to talk. You know too well The story of our thralldom. We are slaves! The bright sun rises to his course, and lights A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beams Fall on a slave; not such as, swept along By the full tide of power, the conqueror led To crimson glory and undying fame; But base, ignoble slaves; slaves to a horde Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords. Rich in some dozen paltry villages; Strong in some hundred spearmen ; only great In that strange spell, — a name. Each hour, dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder, Cries out against them. But this very day. An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands, — Was struck — struck like a dog, by one who wore The badge of Ursini ; because, forsooth. He tossed not high his ready cap in air, Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, At sight of that great ruffian! Be we men. And suffer such dishonor? men, and wash not The stain away in blood?. Such shames are common. I have known deeper wrongs; I that speak to ye. 222 ECLECTIC SERIES. I had a brother once — a gracious boy, Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope, Of sweet and quiet joy, — there was the look Of heaven upon his face, which liainers give To the beloved disciple. How I loved That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years. Brother at once, and son ! He left my side, A summer bloom on his fair cheek; a smile Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, That pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried For vengeance! Rouse, ye Romans! rouse, ye slaves! Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl To see them die. Have ye fair daughters? Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, Dishonored; and if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome, That sat on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty ruled the world ! and we are Romans. Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman Was greater than a king! And once again, — Hear me, ye walls that echoed to the tread Of either Brutus! Once again, I swear. The eternal city shall be free. Notes— Rienzi (b. about 1312, d. 1354) was the last of the Roman tribunes. In 1347 he led a successful revolt against the nobles, who by their contentions kept Korae in constant turmoil. He then assumed the title of tribune, but, after in- dulging in a life of reckless extravagance and pomj) for a few SIXTH READER. 223 months, he was compelled to abdicate, and flj^ for his life. In 1354 he was reinstated in power, but his tj'ranny caused his assassination the same year. The Ursini were one of the noble families of Rome. This lesson is especially adapted for drill on inflection, em- phasis, and modulation. LVII. CHARACTER OF THE PURITAN FATHERS OF NEW ENGLAND. One of the most prominent features which distinguished our forefathers, was their determined resistance to oppres- sion. They seemed born and brought up for the high and special purpose of showing to the world that the civil and religious rights of man — the rights of self-government, of conscience, and independent thought — are not merely things to be talked of and woven into theories, but to be adopted with the whole strength and ardor of the mind, and felt in the profoundest recesses of the heart, and carried out into the general life, and made the foundation of practical use- fulness, and visible beauty, and true nobility. Liberty, with tliem, was an object of too serious desire and stern resolve to be personified, allegorized, and en- shrined. They made no goddess of it, as the ancients did; they had no time nor inclination for such trifling; they felt that liberty was the simple birthright of every human creature ; they called it so ; they claimed it as such ; they reverenced and held it fast as the unalienable gift of the Creator, which was not to be surrendered to power, nor sold for wages. It was theirs, as men ; without it, they did not esteem themselves men ; more than any other privilege or posses- sion, it was essential to their happiness, for it was essential to their original nature ; and therefore they preferred it above wealth, and ease, and country; and, that they might 224 ECLECTIC SERIES. enjoy and exercise it fully, tliey forsook houses, and lands, and kindred, their homes, their native soil, and their fathers' graves. They left all these; they left England, which, whatever it might have been called, was not to them a land of freedom ; they launched forth on the pathless ocean, the wide, fathomless ocean, soiled not by the earth beneath, and bounded, all round and above, only by heaven; and it seemed to them like that better and sublimer freedom, which their country knew not, but of which they had the conception and image in their hearts; and, after a toilsome and painful voyage, they came to a hard and wintry coast, unfruitful and desolate, but unguarded and boundless; its calm silence interrupted not the ascent of their prayers; it had no eyes to watch, no ears to hearken, no tongues to report of them ; here, again, there was an answer to their soul's desire, and they were satisfied, and gave thanks; they saw that they were free, and the desert smiled. I am telling an old tale ; but it is one which must be told when we speak of those men. It is to be added, that they transmitted their principles to their children, and that, peopled by such a race, our country was always free. So long as its inhabitants were unmolested by the mother- country in the exercise of their important rights, they sub- mitted to the form of English government; but when those rights were invaded, they spurned even the form away. This act was the Revolution, which came of course and spontaneously, and had nothing in it of the wonderful or unforeseen. The wonder would have been if it had not occurred. It was, indeed, a happy and glorious event, but by no means unnatural ; and I intend no slight to the revered actors in the Revolution when I assert that their fathers before them were as free as they — every whit as free. The principles of the Revolution were not the suddenly acquired property of a few bosoms: they were abroad in SIXTH REA'DER. 225 the land in the ages before; they had always been taught, like the ti'uths of the Bible; they had descended from father to son, down from those j)rimitive days, when the Pilgrim, established in his simple dwelling, and seated at his blazing fire, piled high from the forest Avhich shaded his door, repeated to his listening children the story of his wrongs and his resistance, and bade them rejoice, though the wild winds and the wild beasts were howling without, that they had nothing to fear from great men's opi^ression. Here are the beginnings of the Revolution. Every set- tler's hearth was a school of independence; the scholars were apt, and the lessons sunk deeply; and thus it came that our country was always free; it could not be other than free. As deeply seated as was the principle of liberty and re- sistance to arbitrary power in the breasts of the Puritans, it was not more so than their i^iety and sense of religious obligation. They were emphatically a people whose God was the Lord. Their form of government was as strictly theocratical, if direct communication be exce2:)ted, as was that of the Jews; insomuch that it would be difficult to say where there w'as any civil authority among them en- tirely distinct from ecclesiastical jurisdiction. Whenever a few of them settled a town, they immedi- ately gathered themselves into a church; and their elders were magistrates, and their code of laws was the Penta- teuch. These were forms, it is true, but forms which faith- fully indicated principles and feelings; for no people could have adopted such forms, who were not thoroughly imbued with the spirit, and bent on the practice, of religion. God was their King; and they regarded him as truly and literally so, as if he had dwelt in a visible palace in the midst of their state. They were his devoted, resolute, humble subjects; they undertook nothing which they did not beg of him to prosper; they accomplished nothing without rendering to him the praise; they suffered nothing 226 ECLECTIC SERIES. without carrying their sorrows to his throne; they ate nothing which they did not implore him to bless. Their piety was not merely external; it was sincere; it had the proof of a good tree in bearing good fruit; it pro- duced and sustained a strict morality. Tlieir tenacious purity of manners and sj^eech obtained for them, in the mother-country, their . name of Puritans, which, though given in derision, was as honorable an appellation as was ever bestowed by man on man. That there were hypocrites among them, is not to be doubted ; but they were rare. The men who voluntarily exiled themselves to an unknown coast, and endured there every toil and hardship for conscience' sake, and that they might serve God in their own manner, were not likely to set conscience at defiance, and make the service of God a mockery ; they were not likely to be, neither were they, hypocrites. I do not know that it would be arrogating too much for them to say, that, on the extended surface of the globe, there was not a single community of men to be com- pared with them, in the respects of deep religious impres- sions and an exact performance of moral duty. F. W. P. Ghreenwood. Note. — The Pentateuch is the first five books of the Uld Testament. The word is derived from two Greek words, •Khts (pente), five, and ttvxoi (teuchos), book. LVIII. LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. Felicia Dorothea Heman?, 1794-1S;W, was born in Liverpool. Her father, whose name was Browne, was an Irish merchant. She spent her childhood in Wales, began to write poetry at a very early age, and was married when about eighteen to Captain Hemans. By this marriage, she became the mother of five sons; but, owing to diflferences of taste and disposition, her husband left her at the end of six years; and by mutual agreement they never again lived together. Mrs. Hemans now made lit- erature a profession, and wrote much and well. In 1826 Prof. Andrews Norton brouglit out an edition of her poems in America, where they be- came popular, and have reinained so. SIXTH READER. 227 Mrs. Hemans's poetry is smooth and graceful, frequently tinged with a shade of melancholy, but never despairing, cynical, or misanthropic. It never deals with the highest themes, nor rises to sublimity, but its influence is calculated to make the reader truer, nobler, and purer. The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark, The hills and Avaters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums. And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come. In silence, and in fear; — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free! The ocean-eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam ; And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home. 228 ECLECTIC SERIES. There were men with hoar}' hair Amidst that pilgrim band : Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine! Ay, call it holy ground. The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what there they found, - Freedom to worship God. Note. — The Pilgrim Fathers landed at Plymouth, Mass., Dec. nth (Old Style), 1620. The rock on which they first stepped, is in Water Street of the village, and is covered by a handsome granite canopy, surmounted by a colossal statue of Faith. LIX. NECESSITY OF EDUCATION. We must educate! We must educate! or we must perish by our own prosperity. If we do not, short will be our race from the cradle to the grave. If, in our haste to be rich and mighty, Ave outrun our literary and religious institutions, they will never overtake us; or only come up after the battle of liberty is fought and lost, as spoils to SIXTH READER. 229 grace the victory, and as resources of inexorable despotism for the perpetuity of our bondage. But what will become of the West if her prosperity rushes up to such a majesty of power, while those great in- stitutions linger which are necessary to form the mind, and the conscience, and the heart of the vast Avorld? It must not be permitted. And yet what is done must be done quickly; for population will not wait, and commerce will not cast anchor, and manufactures will not shut off the steam, nor shut down the gate, and agriculture, pushed by millions of freemen on their fertile soil, will not withhold her corrupting abundance. And let no man at the East quiet himself, and dream of liberty, whatever may become of the West. Our alliance of blood, and political institutions, and common interests, is such, that we can not stand aloof in the hour of her calamity, should it ever come. Her destiny is our destiny; and the day that her gallant ship goes down, our little boat sinks in the vortex! The great experiment is now making, and from its extent and rapid filling up, is making in the West, whether the perpetuity of our rejiublican institutions can be reconciled with universal suffrage. Without the education of the head and heart of the nation, they can not be; and the question to be decided is, can the nation, or the vast bal- ance power of it, be so imbued with intelligence and virtue as to bring out, in laws and their administration, a per- petual self-preserving energy. We know that the work is a vast one, and of great difficulty; and yet we believe it can be done. I am aware that our ablest patriots are looking out on the deep, vexed with storms, with great forebodings and failings of heart, for fear of the things that are coming upon us; and I perceive a spirit of impatience rising, and distrust in respect to the perpetuity of our republic; and I am sure that these fears are well founded, and am glad 230 ECLECTIC SERIES. that they exist. It is the star of hope in our dark horizon. Fear is what we need, as the ship needs wind on a rocking sea, after a storm, to prevent foundering. But when our fear and our efforts shall correspond with our danger, the danger is past. For it is not the imi^ossibility of self-preservation wliicli threatens us ; nor is it the unwillingness of the nation, to pay the price of the preservation, as she has paid the price of the purchase of our liberties. It is Inattention and in- consideration, protracted till the crisis is past, and the things which belong to our peace are hid from our eyes. And blessed be God, that the tokens of a national waking up, the harbinger of God's mercy, are multiplying upon us! We did not, in the darkest hour, believe that God had brought our fatliers to this goodly land to lay the founda- tion of religious liberty, and wrought such wonders in their preservation, and raised their descendants to such heights of civil and religious liberty, only to reverse the analogy of his providence, and al)andon his work. And though there now be clouds, and the sea roaring, and men's hearts failing, we believe there is light behind the cloud, and that the imminence of our danger is in- tended, under the guidance of Heaven, to call forth and apply a holy, fraternal fellowship between the East and the West, which shall secure our preservation, and make the prosperity of our nation durable as time, and as abundant as the waves of the sea. I would add, as a motive to immediate action, that if we do fail in our great experiment of self-government, our de- struction will be as signal as the birthright abandoned, the mercies abused, and the provocation offered to beneficent Heaven. The descent of desolation will correspond with the past elevation. No punishments of Heaven are so severe as those for mercies abused; and no instrumentality employed in their SIXTH READER. 231 infliction is so dreadful as the wrath of man. No spasms are like the spasms of expiring liberty, and no wailing such as her convulsions extort. It took Rome three hundred years to die; and our death, if we perish, will be as much more terrific as our intelligence and free institutions have given us more bone, sinew, and vitality. May God hide from me the day when the dying agonies^ of my country shall begin! O thou beloved land, bound together by the ties of brotherhood, and common interest, and perils! live forever — one and undivided ! — Lyman Beeclier. LX. RIDING ON A SNOW-PLOW. Benjamin Franklin Taylor, 1822 , was born at Lowville, New York, and graduated at Madison University, of whii-li his fatlier was president. Here he remained as resident graduate for about Ave yeare. His " Attractions of Language" was publislied in IS4.5. For many years Mr. Taylor was literary editor of the " Cliicago Journal." He has written considerably for the magazines, and is author of many well-known fugi- tive pieces both in prose and verse. He has also published several books, of which "Januaiy and June," "Pictures in Camp and Field," "The World on Wheels," " Old-time Pictures and Sheaves of Rhyme," " Be- tween the Gates," and "Songs of Yesterday," are the best known. Mr. Taylor has achieved some reputation as a lecturer. His writings are marked by an exuberant fancy. Did you ever ride on a snow-plow? Not the pet and pony of a thing that is attached to the front of an engine, sometimes, like a pilot; but a great two-storied monster of strong timbers, that runs upon wheels of its own, and that boys run after and stare at as they would after and at an elephant. You are snow-bound at Buffalo. The Lake Shore Line is piled Avith drifts like a surf Two passenger trains have been half-buried for twelve hours somewhere in snowy Chautauqua. The storm howls like a congregation of Arctic bears. But the superintendent at Buffalo is de- termined to release his cast-aways, and clear the road to 232 ECLECTIC SERIES. Erie. He permits you to be a passenger on the great snow-plow ; and there it is, all ready to drive. Harnessed behind it, is a tandem team of three engines. It does not occur to you that you are going to ride on a steam-drill, and so you get aboard. It is a spacious and timbered room, with one large bull's- eye window, — an overgrown lens. The thing is a sort of Cyclops. There are ropes, and chains, and a windlass. There is a bell by which the engineer of the first engine can signal the plowman, and a cord whereby the plowman can talk back. There are two sweeps, or arms, worked by machinery, on the sides. You ask their use, and the super- intendent replies, "When, in a violent shock, there is dan- ger of the monster's upsetting, an arm is put out, on one side or the other, to keep the thing from turning a com- plete somersault." You get one idea, and an inkling of another. So you take out your Accident Policy for three thousand dollars, and examine it. It never mentions bat- tles, nor duels, nor snow-plows. It names "public convey- ances." Is a snow-plow a jniblic conveyance? You are in- clined to think it is neither that nor any other kind that you should trust yourself to, but it is too late for consider- ation. You roll out of Buffalo in the teeth of the wind, and the world is turned to snow'. All goes merrily. The machine strikes little drifts, and they scurry away in a cloud. The three engines breathe easily ; but by and by the earth seems broken into great billows of dazzling white. The sun comes out of a cloud, and touches it up till it out- silvers Potosi. Houses lie in the trough of the sea every- where, and it requires little imagination to think they are pitching and tossing before your eyes. A great breaker rises right in the way. The monster, with you in it, works its way up and feels of it. It is packed like a ledge of marble. Three whistles! The machine backs away and keeps backing, as a gymnast runs astern to get sea-room SIXTH READER. 233 and momentum for a big jump; as a giant swings aloft a heavy sledge, that it may come down with a heavy blow. One whistle! You have come to a halt. Three pairs of whistles one after the other! and then, putting on all steam, you make for the drift. The superintendent locks the door, you do not quite understand why, and in a second the battle begins. The machine rocks and creaks in all its joints. There comes a tremendous shock. The cabin is as dark as midnight. The clouds of flying snow put out the day. The labored breathing of the locomotives behind you, the clouds of smoke and steam that wrap you up as in a mantle, the noon-day eclipse of the sun, the surging of the ship, the rattling of chains, the creak of timbers as if the craft were aground and the sea getting out of its bed to whelm you altogether, the doubt as to what will come, — all combine to make a scene of strange excitement for a land-lubber. You have made some impression on the breaker, and again the machine backs for a fair start, and then another plunge, and shock, and twilight. And so, from deep cut to deep cut, as if the season had packed all his winter clothes upon the track, until the stalled trains are reached and passed; and then, with alternate storm and calm, and halt and shock, till the way is cleared to Erie. It is Sunday afternoon, and Erie — "Mad Anthony Wayne's " old headquarters — has donned its Sunday clothes, and turned out by hundreds to see the great plow come in, — its first voyage over the line. The locomotives set up a crazy scream, and you draw slowly into the depot. The door opened at last, you clamber down, and gaze up at the uneasy house in which you have been living. It looks as if an avalanche had tumbled down ujdou it, — white as an Alpine shoulder. Your first thought is gratitude that you have made a landing alive. Your second, a resolution that, if again you ride a hammer, it will not be when three engines have hold of the handle! 6.— 20. 234 ECLECTIC SERIES. Notes. — Chautauqua is the most western county in the state of New York; it borders on Lake Erie. The Cyclops are described, in Grecian mythology as giants having only one eye, which was circular, and placed in the middle of the forehead. Cerro de Potosi is a mountain in Bolivia, South America, celebrated for its mineral wealth. More than five thousand mines liave been opened in it; the product is chiefly silver. "Mad Anthony Wayne" (b. 1745, d. 179G), so called from his bravery and apparent recklessness, was a famous American officer during the Revolution. In 1794 he con- ducted a successful campaign against the Indians of the North-west, making his headquarters at Erie, Pa. LXI. THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. Cos. That you have Avronged me doth appear in this: You have condemned and noted Lucius Pella For taking bribes here of tlie Sardiaus; Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Because I knew the man, were sliglited off". Brii. You wronged yourself to write in such a case. Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet That every nice offense should bear his comment. Bru. Yet let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Are much condemned to have an itching jjalm. To sell and mart your offices for gold To undeservers. Cas. I an itching palm! You know that you are Brutus that speak this, Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. Bru. The name of Cassius honors this corruption. And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. Cas. Chastisement ! Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember! Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? SIXTH READER. 235 What villain touched his body, that did stab, And not lor justice? What! shall one of us. That struck the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers; shall we now Contaminate our lingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much tiash as may be grasped thus? I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman. Cas. Brutus, bay not me; I'll not endure it: you forget yourself. To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, Older in practice, abler than yourself To make conditions. Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. Cas. I am. Bru. I say you are not. Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself: Have mind upon your health ; tempt me no further. Bru. Away, slight man! Cas. Is't possible? Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. Must I give way and room to your rash choler? Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! must I endure all this? Bru. All this ! Ay, more : fret till your proud heart break ; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are. And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humor? By the gods. You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, I'll use you for my mirth, yea for my laughter. When you are waspish. Cas. . Is it come to this? Bru. You say you are a better soldier: 236 ECLECTIC SERIES. Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, And it shall please me well: for mine own part, I shall be glad to learn of noble men. Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; I said, an elder soldier, not a better: Did I say "better"? Bru. If you did, I care not. Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. Cos. I durst not? Bru. No. I Cos. What! durst not tempt him? Bru. For your life, you durst not. Cas. Do not presume too much ujDon my love; I may do that I shall be sorry for. Bru. You haye done that you should be sorry for. There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats; For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind, Which I respect not. I did send to you For certain sums of gold, which you denied me;— For I can raise no money by vile means: By heaven! I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash By any indirection. — I did send To you for gold to pay my legions, Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? Should I have answered Cains Cassius so? When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. To lock such rascal counters from his friends, Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; Dash him to pieces ! C(Vi. I denied you not. Bru. You did. Cas. I did not: he was but a fool that brought SIXTH READER. 237 My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me. Gas. You love me not. Bru. I do not like your faults. Cos. A friendly eye could never see such faults. Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear As huge as high Olympus. Cks. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, For Cassius is a- weary of the world; Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; Checked like a bondman ; all his faults observed, Set in a note-book, learned, and conned by rote. To cast into my teeth. Oh, I could weep My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger. And here my naked breast; within, a heart Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold : If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth: I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart: Strike, as thou didst at Csesar; for, I know. When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. Bru. Sheathe your dagger : Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; Do what you will, dishonor shall be humor. O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb That carries anger as the flint bears fire; Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark. And straight is cold again. Ga&. Hath Cassius lived To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, When grief, and blood ill-tempered, vexeth him? Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered, too. Cos, Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. 238 ECLECTIC SERIES. Bru. And my heart, too. Gas. O Brutus! Bru. - What's the matter? Cos. Have you not love enough to bear with me, When that rash humor which my mother gave me Makes me forgetful? Ih'ii. Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. Shakespeare. — Jtdiiis Ccesar, Act iv, Seem Hi. Notes. — Ides (pro. Idz) was a term used in the Roman cal- endar. It fell on the fifteenth day of March, May, July, and October, and on the thirteenth of other months. On the ides of March, 44 B. C, Julius Caesar was murdered by Brutus, Cassius, and other conspirators. The populace were aroused to indignation, and the conspirators were compelled to fly. Indirection ; ?'. c, dishonest means. Antony and Octavius, who, with Lepidus, formed the triumvirate now governing Eome, were at this time marching against the forces of Brutus and Cassius. Plutus, in ancient mythology, the god of wealth. LXII. THE QUACK. John Tobin, 1770-1804, ti solicitor, was born at Salisbury, England, and died on shipboard near Cork. He wrote several comedies, tlie most popti- lar being "The Honeymoon," from which this extract is taken; it was published in 1805. Scene — The Inn. Enter Hostess JoUoioed by Lampedo, a Quack Doctor. Mod. Nay, nay; another fortnight. Lamp. It can't be. The man's as well as I am: have some mercy! He hath been here almost three weeks already. SIXTH READEE. 239 Host. Well, then, a week. Lamp. We may detain him a week. {Enter Balthazar, the patient, from behind, in his night-gown, with a drawn sivord.) You talk now like a reasonable hostess. That sometimes has a reckoning with her conscience. Host. He still believes he has an inward bruise. Lamp. I would to heaven he had! or that he'd slipped His shoulder-blade, or broke a leg or two, (Not that I bear his person any malice,) Or lused an arm, or even sprained his ankle! Host. Ay, broken any thing except his neck. Lamp. However, for a w'eek I'll manage him, Though he had the constitution of a horse — A farrier should prescribe for him. Balth. A farrier! (Aside.) Lamp. To-morrow, we phlebotomize again; Next day, my new-invented patent draught; Then, I have some pills prepared; On Thursday, we throw in the bark ; on Friday — Balth. (Coming forward.) Well, sir, on Friday — what, on Friday ? Come, Proceed. Lamp. Discovered ! Host. Mercy, noble sir! | y,^^^ j^^^ ^,^ ^,^^.^. ^,^^^_ Lamp. We crave your mercy ! ) Balth. On your knees? 'tis well! Pray! for your time is short. Host. Nay, do not kill us. Balth. You have been tried, condemned, and only wait For execution. Which shall I begin with? Lamp. The lady, by all means, sir. Balth. Come, prepare. (Tb the hostess.) Host. Have pity on the weakness of my sex ! Balth. Tell me, thou quaking mountain of gross flesh. Tell me, and in a breath, how many poisons — 240 ECLECTIC SERIES. If you attempt it — {To Lampedo, ^vho is making off) you have cooked up for me? Host. None, as I hope for mercy! Balth. Is not thy wine a poison? Host. No indeed, sir; 'Tis not, I own, of the first quality; But — Balth. What? Host. I always give short measure, sir. And ease my conscience that way. Balth. Ease your conscience! I'll ease your conscience for you. Host. Mercy, sir! Balth. Rise, if thou canst, and hear nie. Hod. Your commands, sir? Balth. If, in five minutes, all things are prepared For my departure, you may yet survive. Host. It shall be done in less. Balth. Away, thou lumj^-fish. {Exit hostess.) Lamp. So! now comes my turn! 'tis all over with me! There's dagger, rope, and ratsbane in his looks! Balth. And now, thou sketch and outline of a man ! Thou thing that hast no shadow in the sun! Thou eel In a consumption, eldest born Of Death and Famine! thou anatomy Of a starved pilchard ! Lamp. I do confess my leanness. I am spare, And, therefore, spare me. Balth. Why wouldst thou have made me A thoroughfare, for thy whole shop to pass through ? Lamp. Man, you know, must live. Balth. Yes: he must die, too. Lamp. For my patients' sake! Balth. I'll send you to the major part of them — The window, sir, is open; — come, prepare. Lamp. Pray consider! SIXTH READER. 241 I may hurt some one iu the street. Balik. Why, then, I'll rattle thee to pieces in a dice-box. Or grind thee in a coffee-mill to powder. For thou must sup with Pluto: — so, make ready! Whilst I, with this good small-sword for a lancet, Let thy starved spirit out (for blood thou hast none), And nail thee to the wall, wdiere thou shalt look Like a dried beetle with a pin stuck through him. Lamp. Consider my poor wife. Balth. Thy wife! Lamp. My wife, sir. Balth. Hast thou dared think of matrimony, too? Thou shadow of a man, and base as lean! Lamp. O spare me for her sake ! I have a wnfe, and three angelic babes, Who, by those looks, are well nigh fatherless. Balth. Well, well! your wife and children shall plead for you. Come, come; the pills! where are the pilLs? Pro- duce them. Lamp. Here is .he box. Balth. Were it Pandora's, and each single pill Had ten diseases in it, you should take them. Lamp. What, all? Balth. Ay, all; and quickly, too. Come, sir, begin — (Lampedo takes one. ) That 's well ! — Another. Lamp. One's a dose. Balth. Proceed, sir. Lamp. What will become of me? Let me go home, and set my shop to rights, And, like immortal Caesar, die with decency. Balth. Away! and thank thy ^ucky star I have not Brayed thee in thine own mortar, or exposed thee For a large specimen of the lizard genus. Lamp. Would I were one! — for they can feed on air. 6.^21. 242 ECLECTIC SERIES. Balth. Home, sir! and be more honest. Lamp. If I am not, I'll be more wise, at least. Notes. — Pluto, in ancient mythology, the gocl of the lower world. Pandora is described in the Greek legends as the first created woman. She was sent by Jupiter to Epimetheus as a punishment, because the latter's brother, Prometheus, had stolen fire from heaven. When she arrived among men, she opened a box in which were all the evils of mankind, and everything escaped except Hope. LXIII. RIP VAN WINKLE. The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, his rusty fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and children at his heels, soon attracted the atten- tion of the tavern politicians. They crowded around him, eying him from head to foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly aside, inquired on which side he voted. Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear | "whether he was Federal or Democrat." ' Rip was equally at a loss to comprehend the question; when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded, in an austere tone, what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village. SIXTH READER. 243 "Alas! gentlemeu," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, "I am a poor, quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal subject of the king, God bless him!" Here a general shout burst from the bystanders. — "A tory! a tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! away with him!" It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. "Well, who are they? name them." Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's Nicholas Vedder?" There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin, piping voice, "Nicholas Vedder! Avhy he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the church-yard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too." "Where's Brom Dutcher?" "Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war. Some say he was killed at the storming of Stony Point ; others say he was drowned in a squall at the foot of Anthony's Nose. I don't know; he never came back again." "Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" "He went off to the wars, too ; was a great militia general, and is now in Congress." Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand — war, Congress, Stony Point. He had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" "Oh, Rip Van Winkle!" exclaimed two or three. "Oh, to be sure! That's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning 244 ECLECTIC SERIES. against the tree." Rip looked, and beheld a precise counter- part of himself as he went up the mountain ; apparently as lazy, and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded; he doubted his ow'n identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. "God knows!" exclaimed he, at his writ's end. "I'm not myself; I'm somebody else; that's me yonder; no, that's somebody else got into my shoes. I was myself last night; but I fell asleep on the mountain, and they've changed, my gun, and every thing's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name or who I am!" The by-standers began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their fore- heads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the self-important man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation. At this critical mo- ment, a fi'esh, comely woman pressed through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, began to cry. "Hush, Rip!" cried she, "hush, you little fool! the old man won't hurt you." The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of --recollections in his mind. "What is your name, my good woman?" asked he, "Judith Gardenier." "And your father's name?" "Ah, poor man! Rip Van Winkle was his name; but it's twenty years since he went away from home with his gun, and never has been heard of since; his dog came home without him; but whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl." Rip had but one question more to ask; but he put it with a faltering voice: "Where's your mother?" "Oh, SIXTH READER. 245 she, too, died but a short time since; she broke a blood- vessel in a fit of passion at a New England peddler." There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. "I am your father!" cried he. "Young Rip Vau Winkle once, old Rip Van Winkle now ! Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle?" All stood amazed, until an old Avoman, tottering out from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and, peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, "Sure enough! it is Rip Van Winkle! it is himself! Welcome home again, old neighbor! Why, where have you been these twenty long years?" Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been to him but as one night. To make a long story short, the company broke uj^ and returned to the more important concerns of the election. Rip's daughter took him home to live with her. She had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout, cheery farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his back. Rip now resumed his old walks and habits. He soon found many of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear and tear of time, and preferred making friends among the rising gen- eration, with whom he soon grew into great favor. — Irving. Notes. — Rip Van "Winkle, according to Irving's story in "The Sketch Book," was a great drunkard, and was driven from his home in the Catskill Mountains, one night, by his wife. Wandering among the mountains, he fell in with the ghosts of Hendrick Hudson and his crew, with whom he played a game of ninepins. Upon drinking the liquor which they offered him, however, he immediately fell into a deep sleep which lasted for twenty years. The above lesson re- 246 ECLECTIC SERIES. counts the events that befell him when he returned to his native village. In the meantime the Revolution of 177G had taken place. The Federals and the Democrats formed the two lead- ing political parties of that time. Stony Point is a promontory on the Hudson, at the en- trance of the Highlands, forty -two miles from New York. It was a fortified post during the Revolution, captured by the British, and again retaken by the Americans under Wayne. Anthony's Nose is also a promontory on the Hudson, about fifteen miles above Stony Point. LXrV. BILL AND JOB. Oliver "Wendell Holmes, 1800 , is the son of Abiel Holmes, D.D. He was boru in Cambridge, Massachusetts, and graduated at Harvard in 1829, having for classmates several men who have since become distin- guished. After graduating, he studied law for about one year, and then turned his attention to medicine. He .studied his profession in Paris, and elsewhere in Europe, and took his degree at Cambridge in 1836. In 1838 he was appointed Professor of Anatomy and Physiology in Dartmouth College. He remained here but a .short time, and then returned to Boston and entered on the practice of medicine. In 1847 he was ap- pointed professor at Harvard, filling a siinilar i)osition to the one held at Dartmouth. He has discharged the duties of his professorship for more than thirty years, with great success. Literature has never been his profession; yet few American authors have attained higher success, both as a poet and as a pro.se writer. His poems are lively and spark- ling, abound in wit and humoi-, but are not wanting in genuine pathos. Many of them were composed for special occasions. His prose writings include works on medicine, essays, and novels; several appeared first as contributions to the " Atlantic Monthly." He has gained reputation, also, as a popular lecturer. In person. Dr. Holmes is small and active, with a face expressive of thought and vivacity. Come, dear old comrade, you and I Will steal an hour from days gone by — The shining days when life was new, And all was bright as morning dew, The lusty days of long ago, When you were Bill and I was Joe. SIXTH READER. 247 Your name may flaunt a titled trail Proud as a cockerel's rainbow tail, And mine as brief appendix wear As Tam O'Shanter's luckless mare; To-day, old friend, remember still That I am Joe and you are Bill. You've won the great world's envied prize, And grand you look in people's eyes, With HON. and LL. D., In big, brave letters fair to see, — Your fist, old fellow ! Off they go ! — How are you. Bill? How are you, Joe? Yoik've worn the judge's ermined robe; You've taught your name to half the globe; You've sung mankind a deathless strain; You've made the dead past live again: The world may call you what it will, But you and I are Joe and Bill. The chaffing young folks stare and say, "See those old buffers, bent and gray; They talk like fellows in their teens; Mad, poor old boys! That's what it means" — And shake their heads; they little know The throbbing hearts of Bill and Joe — How Bill forgets his hour of pride. While Joe sits smiling at his side; How Joe, in spite of time's disguise. Finds the old schoolmate in his eyes, — Those calm, stern eyes, that melt and fill, As Joe looks fondly up to Bill. 248 ECLECTIC SERIES. Ah ! pensive scholar, what is fame ? A fitful tongue of leaping flame; A giddy whirlwind's fickle gust, That lifts a pinch of mortal dust: A few swift years, and who can show Which dust was Bill, and which was Joe. The weary idol takes his stand, Holds out his bruised and aching hand, While gaping thousands come and go — How vain it seems, this empty show! — Till all at once his pulses thrill: 'Tis poor old Joe's, "God bless you, Bill!" And shall we breathe in happier spheres^ The names that please^ our mortal ears; In some sweet lull of heart and song For earth-born spirits none too long, Just whispering of the world below When this was Bill, and that was Joe? No matter; while our home is here. No sounding name is half so dear; When fades at length our lingering day. Who cares what pompous tomb-stones say? Read on the hearts that love us still, Hie jacet Joe. Hie jacet Bill. Note. — Hie jacet (pro. hie ja'^et) is a Latin phrase, mean- ing here lies. It is frequently used in epitaphs. SIXTH READER. 249 LXV. SORROW FOR THE DEAD. The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal; every other affliction, to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep ojjen. This affliction we cherish, and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that has perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget a tender parent, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights: and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection; when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved, is softened away into pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness, who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may, sometimes, throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gayety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom ; yet, who Avould exchange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead, to which we turn even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave! the grave! It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment ! From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. Who can look down upon the grave even of an enemy, and not feel a compunctious throb, that he should have warred with the poor handful of earth that lies moldering before him? But the grave of those we 250 ECLECTIC SERIES. loved — what a place for meditation! There it is that we call up, in long review, the whole history of virtue and gentleness, and the thousand endearments lavished upon us, almost unheeded in the daily intercourse of intimacy; there it is that we dwell upon the tenderness, the solemn, awful tenderness of the parting scene; the bed of death, with all its stifled griefs, its noiseless attendance, its mute, watchful assiduities! the last testimonies of expiring love! the feeble, fluttering, thrilling, — oh! how thrilling! — pressure of the hand ! the last fond look of the glazing eye turning upon us, even from the threshold of existence! the faint, faltering accents, struggling in death to give one more as- surance of aflTection ! Ay, go to the grave of buried love, and meditate ! There settle the account Avith thy conscience for every past benefit unrequited ; every past endearment unregarded, of that de- parted being, who can never — never — never return to be soothed by thy contrition! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one moment of thy kind- ness or thy truth ; if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or Avord, or deed, the spirit that gen- erously confided in thee; if thou hast given one unmerited jmng to that true heart, which now lies cold and still be- neath thy feet; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come throng- ing back upon thy memory,, and knocking dolefully at thy soul; then be sure that thou wilt lie doAvn sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the unavailing tear ; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing. Then Aveave thy chaplet of floAvers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave; console thy broken sjiirit, if thou canst, Avith these tender, yet futile, tributes of regret; SIXTH READER. 251 but take warning by the bitterness of this, thy contrite affliction over the dead, and lienceforth be more fjiithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living. — Irving. LXVI. THE EAGLE. James Gates Percival, 1795-1856, was born at Berlin, Connecticut, and graduated at Yale College in 1815, at the head of his class. He was ad- mitted to the practice of medicine in 1820, and went to Charleston, South Carolina. In 1821 he was appointed Professor of Chemistry at West Point, a position which he held but a few months. In 1854 he was ap- pointed State Geologist of Wisconsin, and died at Hazel Green, in that state. Dr. Percival was eminent as n geographer, geologist, and linguist. He began to write poetry at an early age, and his fame rests chiefly upon his writings in, this department. In liis private life, Percival was always shy, modest, and somewhat given to melancholy. Financially, his life was one of struggle, and he was often greatly straitened for money. Bird of the broad and sweeping wing! Thy home is high in heaven, Where the wide storms their banners fling, And the tempest clouds are driven. Thy throne is on the mountain-top; Thy fields, the boundless air; And hoary peaks, that proudly prop The skies, thy dwellings are. Thou art perched aloft on the beetling crag, And the waves are white below, And on, with a haste that can not lag, They rush in an endless flow. Again thou hast plumed tliy wing for flight To lands beyond the sea, And away, like a spirit Wreathed in light, Thou hurriest, wild and free. 252 ECLECTIC SERIES. Lord of the boundless realm of air! In thy imperial name, The hearts of the bold and ardent dare The dangerous path of fame. Beneath the shade of thy golden wings, The Roman legions bore, From the river of Egypt's cloudy springs, Their pride, to the polar shore. For thee they fought, for thee they fell, And their oath on thee was laid ; To thee the clarions raised their swell. And the dying warrior prayed. Thou wert, through an age of death and fears, The image of pride and power. Till the gathered rage of a thousand years. Burst forth in one awful hour. And then, a deluge of wrath, it came, And the nations shook with dread ; And it swept the earth, till its fields were flame, And piled with the mingled dead. Kings were rolled in the wasteful flood, AVith the low and crouching slave; And together lay, in a shroud of blood. The coward and the brave. Notes. — Roman legions. The Roman standard was the image of an eagle. The soldiers swove by it, and the loss of it was considered a disgrace. One awful hour. Alluding to the destruction of Rome by the northern barbarians. SIXTH READER. 253 LXVII. POLITICAL TOLERATION. Thomas JeflFerson, 1743-1826, the third President of the United States, and the authc^r of tlie Declaration of Independence, was born in Albe- marle County, Virginia. He received most of his early education under private tutors, and at the age of seventeen entered William and Mary College, where he remained two years. At college, where he studied in- dustriously, he formed the acquaintance of several distinguished men,— among them was George Wythe, with whom he entered on the study of law. At the age of twenty-four he was admitted to the bar, and soon rose to high standing In his profession. In 1775 he entered the Colonial Congress, having previously served ably in the legislature of his native state. Although one of the youngest men in Congress, he soon took a foremost place in that body. He left Congress in the fall of 1776, and, as a member of the legislature, and later as Governor Df Virginia, he was chiefly instrumental in eflfecting several important reforms in the laws of that state, — the most notable were the abolition of the law of pri- mogeniture, and the passage of a law making all religious denominatio.is equal. From 1785 to 1789 he was Minister to France. On liis return to America he was made Secretary of State, in tlie first Cabinet. While in this office, he became the leader of the Republican or Anti-Federalist party, in opposition to the Federalist party led by Alexander Hamilton. From 1801 to 1809 he was President. On leaving his liigh office, he retired to his estate at " Monticello," where he passed the closing years of his life, and died on the 4th of July, just fifty years after the passage of his famous Declaration. His compatriot, and sometimes bitter political op- ponent, John Adams, died on the same day. Mr. JeflTerson, who was never a ready public speaker, was a remark- ably clear and forcible writer; his works fill several large volumes. In personal character, he was pure and simple, cheerful, and disposed to look on the bright side. His knowledge of life rendered his conversation highly attractive. The cliief enterprise of his later years was the found- ing of the University of Virginia, at Charlottesville. During the contest of opinion through which we have passed, the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on stran- gers, unused to think freely and to speak and to write what they think ; but this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced according to the rules of the con- stitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that, 254 ECLECTIC SERIES. though the will of the majority is, in all cases, to prevail, that will, to be rightful, must be reasonable; that the mi- nority possess their equal rights, which equal laws must protect, and to violate which would be oppression. Let us then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection, without which liberty, and even life itself, are but dreary things; and let us reflect, that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which man- kind so long bled and suffered, wc have gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions. During the throes and convulsions of the ancient W'orld; during the agonizing spasms of infuriated man, seeking, through blood and slaughter, his long-lost liberty; it was not wonderful that the agitation of the billows should reach even this distant and peaceful shore; that this should be more felt and feared by some, and less by others, and should divide opinions as to measures of safety. But every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans; we are all Federalists. If there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union, or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated when reason is left free to combat it. I know, indeed, tliat some honest men fear that a repub- lican government can not be strong; that this government is not strong enough. But would the honest patriot, in the full tide of successful experiment, abandon a government which has so far kept us free and firm, on the theoretic and visionary fear that this government, the world's best hope, may, by possibility, w'ant energy to preserve itself? I trust not; I believe this, on the contrary, the strongest government on earth. SIXTH READER. 256 I believe it to be the only one where every man, at the call of the law, would fly to tlie standard of the law, and would meet invasions of the j)ublic order as his own per- sonal concern. Sometimes it is said that man can not be trusted with the government of himself. Can he, then, be trusted with the government of others, or have we found angels, in the form of kings, to govern him? Let history answer this question. Let us, then, with courage and con- fidence, pursue our own federal and republican principles; our attachment to union and representative government. Note. — At the time of Jefferson's election, party sjiirit ran very high. He had been defeated by John Adams at the pre- vious presidential election, but the Federal party, to which Adams belonged, became weakened by their management dur- ing difficulties with France; and now Jefferson had been elected president over his formerly successful rival. The above selection is from his inausural address. LXVIII. WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE? Sir "William Jones, 1746-1794, was the son of an eminent mathema-. tician; he early distinguished himself by his ability as a student. He graduated at Oxford, became well-ver.sed in Oriental literature, studied law, and wrote many able books. In 1783 he was appointed Judge of the Supreme Court of Judicature in Bengal. He was a man of astonishing learning, upright life, and Christian principles. What constitutes a state? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, Thick wall or moated gate; Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned ; Not bays and broad-armed ports. Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride; Not starred and spangled courts. Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride. 256 ECLECTIC SERIES. No: — men, high-minded men, With powers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake, or den. As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude, — Men who their duties know. But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, Prevent the long-aimed blow. And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain: These constitute a state; And sovereign Law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate, Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. LXIX. THE BRAVE AT HOME. Thomas Buchanan Read, 1822-1872, an American poet and painter, was born in Chester County, Pennsylvania. At the age of seventeen he entered a sculptor's studio in Cincinnati. Here he gained reputation as a ijainter of portraits. From this city he went to New York, Boston, and Philadelphia, and soon after to Florence, Italy. In the later years of his life, he divided his time between Cincinnati, Philadelphia, and Rome. His complete poetical works fill three volumes. Several of his most stirring poems relate to the Revolutionary War, and to the late Civil War in America. Many of his poems are marked by vigor and a ringing power, while smoothness and delicacy distinguish others, no less. The maid who binds her warrior's sash, And, smiling, all her pain dissembles, The while beneath the drooping lash. One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles; Though Heaven alone records the tear. And fame shall never know her story, Her heart has shed a drop as dear As ever dewed the field of glory! The wife who girds her husband's sword, 'Mid little ones who weep and wonder, SIXTH READER. 257 And bravely speaks the cheering word, What though her heart be rent asunder; — Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear The bolts of war around him rattle, — Has shed as sacred blood as e'er Was poured upon the field of battle! The mother who conceals her grief, While to her breast her son she presses, Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses; With no one but her loving God, To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod Received on Freedom's field of honor! Note. — The above selection is from the poem entitled "The Wagoner of the Alleghanies." LXX. SOUTH CAROLINA, Robert Young Hayne, 1791-1840, was bom In Colleton District, South Carolina, and studied and practiced law at Charleston. He was early elected to the State Legislature, and became Speaker of the House and Attorney-general of the state. He entered the Senate of the United States at the age of thirty-one. He was Governor of Soutli Carolina during the "Nullification" troubles in 1832 and 1833. Mr. Hayne was a clear and able debater, and a stanch advocate of the extreme doctrine of " State Rights." In the Senate he opposed the Tariff Bill of 1828 ; and, out of this struggle, grew his famous debate with Daniel Webster in 1830. The following selection is an extract from Mr. Hayne's speech on that memorable occasion. If there be one state in the Union, Mr. President, that may challenge comparison with any other, for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalculating devotion to the Union, that state is South Carolina. Sir, from the very com- mencement of the Revolution, up to this hour, there is no 6.-22. 258 ECLECTIC SERIES. sacrifice, however great, she has not cheerfully made; no service she has ever hesitated to perform. She has adhered to you in your j^rosperity; but in your adversity she has clung to you with more than filial aftec- tion. No matter what was the condition of her domestic affairs; though deprived of her resources, divided by par- ties, or surrounded by difficulties, the call of the country has been to her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at the sound; every man became at once reconciled to his brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen, crowding to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of their common country. What, sir, was the conduct of the South, during the Revolution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that glorious struggle. But great as is the praise which belongs to her, I think at least equal honor is due to the South. Never were there exhibited, in the history, of the world, higher examples of noble daring, dreadful sufler- ing, and heroic endurance, than by the whigs of Carolina, during the Revolution. The whole state, from the moun- tains to the sea, was overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the spot where they were produced, or were consumed by the foe. The plains of Carolina drank up the most precious blood of her citizens. Black, smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habitation of her children. Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sumters and her Marions, proved, by her conduct, that though her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was invin- cible. Notes.— Thomas Sumter (b. 1734, d. 1832) was by birth a Virginian, but during the Revolution commanded South Caro- lina troops. He was one of the most active and able of the SIXTH READER. 259 Southern generals, and' after the war, was prominent in poli- tics, lie was the last surviving general of the Revolution. Francis Marion (b. 1732, d. 1795), known as the "Swamp Fox," was a native South Carolinian, of French descent. Marion's brigade became noted during the Revolution for its daring and surprising attacks. See Lesson CXXXV. LXXI. MASSACHUSETTS AND SOUTH CAROLINA. Daniel "Webster, 1782-1852. This celebrated American statesman and orator was born in Salisbury, New Hampshire. His father, Ebenezer Webster, was a pioneer settler, a .soldier in the Old French War and the Revolution, and a man of ability and strict integrity. Daniel attended the common school in his j^outli, and fitted for college under Rev. Samuel Wood, of Boscawen, graduating at Dartmouth in 1801. He spent a few months of his boyhood at "Phillips Academy," Exeter, where he attained distinction as a student, but was so diffident that he could never give a declamation before his class. During his college cour.se, and later, he taught school several terms in order to increase his slender finances. He was admitted to the bar in Boston in 1805. For the next eleven years, he practiced his profession in his native state. In 1812 he was elected to the United States House of Representatives, and at once took his place as one of the most prominent men of that body. In 1816 he removed to Bo.ston; and in 1827 he was elected to the United States Senate, where he continued for twelve years. In 1841 he was made Secretary of State, and soon after negotiated the famous " Asliburton Treaty " with England, settling the northern boundary of the United States. In 1845 he returned to the Senate; and in 1850 lie was re- appointed Secretary of State, and continued in ofl^ce till his death. He died at his coiintry residence in Marsliflcld, Massachusetts. Mr. Webster's fame rests chiefly on his state papers and his speeches In Congress ; but he took a prominent part in some of tlie most famous law cases of the present century. Several of his public addresses on oc- casional themes are well known, also. As a speaker, he was dignified and stately, using clear, straightforward, pure English. He had none of the tricks of oratory. He was large of person, with a massive head, a swarthy complexion, and deep-set, keen, and lustrous eyes. His grand presence added much to his power as a speaker. The eulogium prououuced on the character of the State of South Carolina by the honorable gentleman, for her Revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concur- rence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable mem- ber goes before me, in regard for whatever of distinguished 260 ECLECTIC SERIES. talent or distinguished character South Carolina has pro- duced. I claim part of the honor; I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all — the Laurenses, the Eutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions — Americans all — whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. In their day and generation, they served and honored the country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gentleman himself bears, — does he suppose me less capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his suffering, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light in Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit in Carolina a name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom? No, sir, — increased gratification and delight rather. Sir, I thank God that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is said to be able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit which would drag angels down. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit because it happened to spring up beyond the little limits of my own state or neighborhood; when I refuse for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an uncommon endowment of Heaven ; if I see extraordinary capacity or virtue in any son of the South; and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by state jealousy, I get up here to abate a tithe of a hair from his just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth! Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Mas- sachusetts. She needs none. There she is; behold her. I SIXTH READER. 261 and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the "world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there they Avill remain forever. And, sir, where American Liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it ; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary restraint, shall suc- ceed to separate it from that Union, by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked; it will stretch forth its arm, with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gathered around it; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monuments of its glory and on the very spot of its origin. Notes. — The Laurenses were of French descent. Henry Laurens was appointed on the commission with Franklin and Jay to negotiate the treaty of peace at Paris at the close of the Revolution. His son, John Laurens, was an aid and sec- retary of Washington, who was greatly attached to him. The Rutledges were of Irish descent. John Rutledge was a celebrated statesman and lawyer. He was appointed Chief-justice of the United States, but the Senate, for political reasons, refused to confirm his appointment. Edward Rutledge, brother of the preceding, was Governor of South Carolina during the last two years of his life. The Pinckneys were an old English family who emigrated to Charleston in 1687. Charles Cotesworth Pinckney and his brother Thomas were both active participants in the Revolu- tion. The former was an unsuccessful candidate for the presi- dency of the United States, in 1800. Thomas was elected governor of South Carolina in 1789. In the war of 1812 he served as major-general. Charles Pinckney, a second cousin of the two already men- tioned, was four times elected governoi- of his state. 262 ECLECTIC SERIES. LXXII. THE CHURCH SCENE FROM EVANGELINE. Henry "Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807-1882, the son of Hon. Stephen Longfellow, an eminent lawyer of Portland, Maine, was born in that city. He graduated, at the age of eighteen, at Bowdoin College. He was soon appointed to the chair of Modern Languages and Literature in that institution, and, to fit himself further for his work, he went abroad and spent four years in Europe. He remained at Bowdoin till 1835, when he was appointed to the chair of Modern Languages and Belles-lettres in Harvard University. On receiving this appointment, he again went to Europe and remained two years. He resigned his professorship in 18.54, and after that time resided in Cambridge, pursuing his literary labors and giving to the public, from time to time, the fruits of his pen. In 1868 he made a voyage to England, where he was received with extra- ordinary marks of honor and esteem. In addition to Mr. Longfellow's originally works, both in poetry and in prose, he distinguished him- self by several translations; the most fam^is is that of the works of Dante. Mr. Longfellow's poetry is always elegant and chaste, showing in every line traces of his careful scholarship. Yet it is not above the popular taste or comprehension, as is shown by the numerous and varied editions of his poems. Many of hiS poems treat of historical themes; " Evangeline," from which the following selection is taken, is esteemed by many as the most beautiful of all his longer poems ; it was first pub- lished in 1847. So passed the morning away. And lo! with a summons sonorous Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum beat. Thronged erelong was the church with men. Without, in the churchyard, Awaited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstones Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest. Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly among them Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant clangor Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and casement, — SIXTH READER. 263 Echoed a moment only, and slowly the j^onderous portal Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. Then uprose their commander, and spake from the steps of the altar, Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal com- mission. "You have convened this day," he said, "by his Majesty's orders. Clement and kind has he been ; but how you have an- swered his kindness, Let your own hearts reply! To my natural make and my temper Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be grievous. ♦ Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our monarch ; Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of all kinds Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from this province Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell there Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people! Prisoners now I declare you; lor such is his Majesty's pleasure ! " As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hailstones Beats down the farmers' corn in the field and shatters his windows, Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from the house-roofs, 264 ECLECTIC SERIES. Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their enclosure; So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker. Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then rose Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger, And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the doorway. Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce impre- cations Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o'er the heads of the others Eose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the black- smith. As, on a stormy sea, a spar i% tossed by the billows. Flushed was his face aud distorted with passion; and wildly he shouted, — " Down with the tyrants of England ! we never have sworn them allegiance! Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our harvests ! " More he fain Avould have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him doAvn to the pavement. In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, Lo! the door of the chancel opened, aud Father Felician Entered, Avith serious mien, and ascended the steps of the altar. Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence All that clamorous throng; and thus he spake to his peo- ple; SIXTH READER. 265 Deep were his tones and solemn; in accents measured and mournful Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes. , "What is this that ye do, my children? what madness has seized you? Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and taught you, Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another! Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations ? Have you so soon forgotten all the lessons of love and for- giveness ? This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred ? Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you See! in those sorrowful eyes Avhat meekness and holy com- passion Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ' Father, forgive them!' Let us repeat ■ that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us. Let us repeat it now, and say, *0 Father, forgive them,'" Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his people Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate outbreak, While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, for- give them!" 6.-23. 266 ECLECTIC SERIES. Note. — Nova Scotia was first settled by the French, but, in 1713, was ceded to the English. The inhabitants refusing either to take the oath of allegiance or to bear arms against their fellow countrymen in the French and Indian War, it was decided to remove the whole people, and distribute them among the other British provinces. This -was accordingly done in 1755. The villages were burned to the ground, and the people hurried on board the ships in such a way that but a few families remained undivided. Longfellow's poem of "Evangeline" is founded on this in- cident, and the above selection desci'ibes the scene where the male inhabitants of Grand Pre are assembled in the church, and the order for their banishment is first made known to them. LXXIII. SONG OP THE SHIRT, Thomas Hood, 1798-1845, the son of a London book-seller, was born in that city. He undertook, after leaving school, to learn the art of an engraver, but soon gave up the business, and turned his attention to lit- erature. His lighter pieces, exhibiting his skill as a wit and punster, soon became well known and popular. In 1821 he became sub-editor of the " London Magazine," and formed the acquaintance of the literary men of the metropolis. The last years of his life were clouded by pov- erty and ill-health. Some of his most humorous pieces were written on a sick-bed. Hood is best known as a joker — a writer of "whims and oddities " — but he was no mere joker. Some of his pieces are filled with the tenderest pathos; and a gentle spirit, in love with justice and hu- manity, pervades even his lighter compositions. His " Song of the Sliirt " first appeared in the " London Punch." With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread: Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, And still with a voice of dolorous pitch, She sang the "Song of the Shirt!" SIXTH READER. 267 "Work! work! work! While the cock is crowing aloof! And work ! work ! work ! Till the stars shine through the roof! It is oh to be a slave Along with the barbarous Turk, Where woman has never a soul to save, If this is Christian work! "Work! work! work! TiU the brain begins to swim ; Work ! work ! work ! Till the eyes are heavy and dim! Seam, and gusset, and band, Band, and gusset, and seam, Till over the buttons I fall asleep, And sew them on in a dream! "O men, with sisters dear! O men, with mothers and wives ! It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives ! Stitch ! stitch ! stitch ! In poverty, hunger, and dirt, — Sewing at once, with a double thread, A shroud as well as a shirt. "But why do I talk of Death? That Phantom of grisly bone, I hardly fear his terrible shape, It seems so like my own; It seems so like my own. Because of the fasts I keej); O God ! that bread should be so dear. And flesh and blood so cheap! 268 ECLECTIC SERIES. " Work ! work ! work ! My labor never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread — and rags, That shattered roof — and this naked floor — A table — a broken chair — And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there. "Work! work! work! From weary chime to chime! Work! work! work! As prisoners work for crime! Band, and gusset, and seam. Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumbed, As well as the weary hand. "Work! work! work! In the dull December light, And work! work! work! When the weather is warm and bright; While underneath the eaves The brooding swallows cling, As if to show me their sunny backs, And twit me with the spring. "Oh but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet! With the sky above my head. And the grass beneath my feet! For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want. And the walk that costs a meal ! SIXTH BEADER. 269 " Oh but for one short lioiir, — A respite, however brief! No blessed leisure for love or hoj)e, But only time for grief! A little weeping would ease my heart, But in their briny bed My tears must stop, for every drop Hinders needle and thread." With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat, in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread : Stitch! stitch! stitch! In poverty, hunger, and dirt. And still Avith a voice of dolorous pitch — Would that its tone could reach the rich! — She sang this "Song of the Shirt." LXXIV. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. fidouard Rene Lefebvre-Laboulaye, 1811 , is a French writer of note. Most of his works involve questions of law and politics, and are considered high authority on the questions discussed. A few works, such as " Abdallah," from which the following extract is adapted, were written as a mere recreation in the midst of law studies; they show great imaginative power. Laboulaye has taken great interest in the United States, her people, and her literature; and many of his works are devoted to American questions. He has translated the works of Dr. William E. Channing into French. Mansour, the Egyptian merchant, one day repaired to the cadi on account of a suit, the issue of which troubled him but little. A private conversation with the judge had given him hopes of the justice of his cause. The old man asked his son Omar to accompany him in order to accus- tom him early to deal with the law. 270 ECLECTIC SERIES. The cadi was seated in the court-yard of the mosque. He was a fat, good-looking man, who never thought, and talked little, which, added to his large turban and his air of perpetual astonishment, gave him a great reputation for justice and gravity. The spectators were numerous; the principal merchants were seated on the ground on carpets, forming a semicircle around the magistrate. Mansour took his seat a little way from the sheik, and Omar placed himself between the two, his curiosity strongly excited to see how the law was obeyed, and how it was trifled with in case of need. The first case called was that of a young Banian, as yellow as an orange, with loose-flowing robes and an effem- inate air, who had lately landed from India, and who com- plained of having been cheated by one of Mansour's rivals. ' ' Having found a casket of diamonds among the effects left by my father," said he, "I set out for Egypt, to live there on the proceeds of their sale. I was obliged by bad weather to put into Jidda, where I soon found myself in want of money. I went to the bazaar, and inquired for a dealer in precious stones. The richest, I was told, was Mansour; the most honest, Ali, the jeweler. I applied to AU. "He welcomed me as a son, as soon as he learned that I had diamonds to sell, and carried me home with him. He gained my confidence by every kind of attention, and ad- vanced me all the money I needed. One day, after dinner, at which wine was not wanting, he examined the diamonds, one by one, and said, 'My child, these diamonds are of little value; my coffers are full of such stones. The rocks of the desert furnish them by thousands.' "To prove the truth of what he said, he opened a box, and, taking therefrom a diamond thrice as large as any of mine, gave it to the slave that was with me. 'What will become of me?' I cried; 'I thought myself rich, and here I am, poor, and a stranger.' SIXTH READER. 271 "'My cliild,' replied Ali, 'Leave this casket witli me, and I will give you a price for it such as no one else would offer. Choose whatever you wish in Jidda, and in two hours I will give you an equal weight of what you have chosen in exchange for your Indian stones.' "On returning home, night brought reflection. I learned that Ali had been deceiving me. What he had given to the slave was nothing but a bit of crystal. I demanded my casket. Ali refused to restore it. Venerable magis- trate, my sole hope is in your justice." It was now All's turn to speak. "Illustrious cadi," said he, "It is true that we made a bargain, which I am ready to keep. The rest of the young man's story is false. What matters it Avhat I gave the slave? Did I force the stranger to leave the casket in my hands? Why does he accuse me of treachery? Have I broken my word, and has he kept his ? " "Young man," said the cadi to the Banian, "have you witnesses to prove that Ali deceived you? If not, I shall put the accused on his oath, as the law decrees." A Koran was brought. Ali placed his hand on it, and swore three times that he had not deceived the stranger. "Wretch," said the Banian, "thou art among those whose feet go down to destruction. Thou hast thrown away thy soul." Omar smiled, and while Ali was enjoying the success of his ruse, he approached the stranger, and asked, " Do you wish me to help you gain the suit?" "Yes," was the reply; "but you are only a child — you can do nothing." "Have confidence in me a few moments," said Omar; "accept All's bargain; let me choose in your stead, and fear nothing." The stranger bowed his head, and murmured, "What can I fear after having lost all?" Then, turning to the cadi, and bowing respectfully j "Let the bargain be con- summated," said he, "since the law decrees it, and let this 272 ECLECTIC SERIES. young man choose in my stead what I shall receive in payment." A profound silence ensued. Omar rose^ and, bowing to the cadi, "Ali," said he to the jeweler, "you have doubt- less brought the casket, and can tell us the weight thereof." "Here it is," said Ali; "it weighs twenty pounds. Choose what you will ; if the thing asked for is in Jidda, you shall have it within two hours, otherwise the bargain is null and void." "What we desire," said Omar, raising his voice, "is ants' wings, half male and half female. You have two hours in which to furnish the twenty pounds you have promised us." "This is absurd," cried the jeweler; "it is impossible. I should need half a score of persons and six months labor to satisfy so foolish a demand." "Are there any winged ants in Jidda?" asked the cadi. "Of course," answered the merchants, laughing; "they are one of the j)lagues of Egypt. Our houses are full of them, and it would be doing us a great service to rid us of them." ' ' Then Ali must keep his promise or give back the casket," said the cadi. "This young man was mad to sell his diamonds weight for weight ; he is mad to exact such payment. So much the better for Ali the first time: so much the worse for him the second. Justice has not two weights and measures. Every bargain holds good before the law. Either furnish twenty pounds of ants' wings, or restore the casket to the Banian." "A righteous judg- ment," shouted the spectators, wonder-struck at such equity. The stranger, beside himself with joy, took from the casket three diamonds of the finest water; he forced them on Omar, who put them in his girdle, and seated himself by his father, his gravity unmoved by the gaze of the as- sembly. "Well done," said Mansour; but it is my turn SIXTH READER. 273 now; mark me well, and profit by the lesson I shall give you. "Stop, young man!" he cried to the Banian, "we have an account to settle." "The day before yesterday," continued he, "this young man entered my shop, and, bursting into tears, kissed my hand and entreated me to sell him a necklace which I had already sold to the Pasha of Egypt, saying that his life and that of a lady depended upon it. 'Ask of me what you will, my father,' said he, ' but I must have these gems or die.' "I have a weakness for young men, and, though I knew the danger of disappointing my master the pasha, I was unable to resist his supplications. ' Take the necklace,' said I to him, ' but promise to give whatever I may ask in exchange.' 'My head itself, if you will,' he replied, 'for you have saved my life.' We Avere without witnesses, but," added Mansour, turning to the Banian, "is not my story true?" "Yes," said the young man, "and I beg your pardon for not having satisfied you sooner: you know the cause. Ask of me what you desire." "What I desire," said Mansour, "is the casket with all its contents. Illustrious magistrate, you have declared tha# all bargains hold good before the law ; this young man has promised to give me what I please; now I declare that nothing pleases me but these diamonds." The cadi raised his head and looked about the assembly, as if to interrogate the faces, then stroked his beard, and relapsed into his meditations. " Ali is defeated," said the sheik to Omar, with a smile. "The fox is not yet born more cunning than the worthy Mansour." "I am lost!" cried the Banian. "O Omar, have you saved me only to cast me down from the highest pinnacle of joy to the depths of despair? Persuade your father to spare me, that I may owe my life to you a second time." 274 ECLECTIC SERIES. "Well, my son," said Mansour, "doubtless you are shrewd, but this will teach you that your father knows rather more than you do. The cadi is about to decide: try whether you can dictate his decree. "It is mere child's play," answered Omar, shrugging his shoulders; "but since you desire it, my father, you shall lose your suit." He rose, and taking a piaster from his girdle, put it into the hand of the Banian, who laid it be- fore the judge. "Illustrious cadi," said Omar, "this young man is ready to fulfill his engagement. This is what he offers Mansoui- — a piaster. In itself this coin is of little value; but ex- amine it closely, and you will see that it is stamjied with the likeness of the sultan, our glorious master. May God destroy and confound all who disobey his highness! "It is this precious likeness that we offer you," added he, turning to Mansour ; " if it pleases you, you are paid ; to say that it displeases you is an insult to the pasha, a crime punishable by death; and I am sure that our worthy cadi will not become your accomplice — he who has always been and always will be the faithful servant of all the sultans." When Omar had finished speaking, all eyes turned toward the cadi, who, more impenetrable than ever, stroked his face and waited for the old man to come to his aid. Mansour was agitated and embarrassed. The silence of the cadi and the assembly terrified him, and he cast a sup- plicating glance toward his son. "My father," said Omar, "permit this young man to thank you for the lesson of prudence which you have given him by frightening him a little. He knows well that' it was you who sent me to his aid, and that all this is a farce. No one is deceived by hearing the son oppose the father, and who has ever doubted Mansour's experience and generosity ? " "No one," interrupted the cadi, starting up like a man SIXTH READER. 275 suddenly awakened from a dream, "and I least of all; and this is why I have permitted you to speak, my young Sol- omon. I wished to honor in you the wisdom of your father; but another time avoid meddling with his high- ness's name; it is not safe to sjiort with the lion's paws. The matter is settled. The necklace is worth a hundred thousand piasters, is it not, Mansour? This madcap, shall give you, therefore, a hundred thousand piasters, and all parties will be satisfied." Notes. — A cadi in the Mohammedan countries, corre- sponds to our magistrate. A sheik among the Arabs and Moors, may mean simply an old man, or, as in this case, a man of eminence. A Banian is a Hindoo merchant, particularly one who visits foreign countries on business. Jidda is a city in Arabia, on the Red Sea. A pasha is the governor of a Turkish province. The Turkish piaster was formerly worth twenty-five cents: it is now worth only about eight cents. LXXV. THANATOPSIS. To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language: for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty; and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images 276 ECLECTIC SERIES. Of tlie stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart; — Go forth, under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around ^ — Earth and her Avaters, and the depths of air^ Comes a still voice, — Yet a few days, and thee The all-beholding sun shall see no more In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears. Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix for ever with the elements; To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, Avhich the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold. Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world, — with Icings, The powerful of the earth, — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, — All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills, Eock-ribbed, and ancient as the sun; the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between; The venerable woods; rivers that move SIXTH READER. 277 In majesty, and the complaining brooks, That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Ai-e but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings, — yet the dead are there: And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep, — the dead reign there alone. So shalt thou rest; and what if thou withdraw In silence from the living, and no friend Take note of thy departure? All that breathe Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favorite phantom ; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come And make their bed with thee. As the long train Of ages glide away, the sons of men — The youth in life's green spring, and he who goes In the full strength of years, matron and maid. The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man — Shall one by one be gathered to thy side By those who in their turn shall follow them. 278 ECLECTIC SERIES. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death. Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. — Bryant. Notes. — Thanatopsis is composed of two Greek words, ddvatoi (thanatos), meaning death, and oi/'tj (oi^sis), a view. The word, therefore, signifies a view of death, or reflections on death. Barca is in the north-eastern part of Africa: the southern and eastern portions of the country are a barren desert. The Oregon (or Columbia) River is the most important river of the United States, emjitying into the Pacific. The Lewis and Clarke Expedition (1803-1806) had first explored the country through which it flows only five years before the poem was written. LXXVI. INDIAN JUGGLERS. ■William Hazlitt, 177.S-1830. This English author, whose father was a Unitarian clergj-nian, was sent to a college of that denomination to be educated for the ministry; but having a greater taste for art than theology, he resolved, on leaving .school, to devote himself to painting. He succeeded so well in his eflbrts as to ineet the warmest commenda- tion of his friends, taut did not succeed in satisfying his own fa-stidious taste. On this account he threw away his pencil, and took up his pen. His works, though numerous, are, with the exception of a life of Napoleon, chiefly criticisms on literature and art. Hazlitt is thought to have treated his contemporaries with an unjust severity; but his genial appreciation of the English classics, and the thorough and loving manner in which he discus.ses their merits, make his essays the delight of every lover of those perpetual well-springs of intellectual pleasure. His "Table Talk," "Characters of Shakespeare's Plays," " Lectures on the English Poets," and " Lectures on the Literature of the Elizabethan Age," are the works that exhibit his style and general merits in their most favorable light. SIXTH READER. 279 Coming forward and seating himself on the ground, in his white dress and tightened turban, the chief of the Indian jugglers begins with tossing up two brass balls, which is what any of us could do, and concludes by keep- ing up four at the same time, which is what none of us could do to save our lives, not if we were to take our whole lives to do it in. Is it then a trifling power we see at work, or is it not something next to miraculous? It is the utmost stretch of human ingenuity, which nothing but the bending the fac- ulties of body and mind to it from the tenderest infancy with incessant, ever-anxious application up to manhood, can accomplish or make even a slight approach to. Man, thou art a wonderful animal, and thy ways past finding out ! Thou canst do strange things, but thou turnest them to small account ! To conceive of this extraordinary dexterity, distracts the imagination and makes admiration breathless. Yet it costs nothing to the performer, any more than if it Avere a mere mechanical deception with which he had nothing to do, but to watch and laugh at the astonishment of the spectators. A single error of a hair's breadth, of the smallest conceiv- able portion of time, would be fatal ; the precision of the movements must be like a mathematical truth; their rapidity is like lightning. To catch four balls in succession, in less than a second of time, and deliver them back so as to return with seem- ing consciousness to the hand again ; to make them revolve around him at certain intervals, like the planets in their spheres; to make them chase each other like sparkles of fire, or shoot up like flowers or meteors; to throw them behind his back, and twine them round his neck like rib- bons, or like serpents; to do what api^ears an impossibility, and to do it with all the ease, the grace, the carelessness imaginable ; to laugh at, to play with the glittering mock- eries, to follow them with his eye as if he could fascinate 280 ECLECTIC SERIES. them with its lambent fire, or as if he had only to see that they kept time with the music on the stage — there is some- • thing in all this which he Avho does not admire may be quite sure he never really admired any thing in the whole course of his life. It is skill surmounting difficulty, and beauty triumphing over skill. It seems as if the difficulty, once mastered, naturally resolved itself into ease and grace, and as if, to be overcome at all, it must be overcome with- out an effort. The smallest awkwardness or want of pliancy or self-possession would stop the whole process. It is the work of witchcraft, and yet sport for children. Some of the other feats are quite as curious and wonder- ful — such as the balancing the artificial tree, and shooting a bird from each branch through a quill — though none of them have the elegance or facility of the keeping up of the brass balls. You are in pain for the result, and glad when the experiment is over; they are not accompanied with the same unmixed, unchecked delight as the former; and I would not give much to be merely astonished with- out being pleased at the same time. As to the swallowing of the sword, the police ought to interfere to prevent it. When I saw the Indian juggler do the same things be- fore, his feet were bare, and he had large rings on his toes, which he kept turning round all the time of the perform- ance, as if they moved of themselves. The hearing a speech in Parliament drawled or stam- mered out by the honorable member or the noble lord, the ringing the changes on their commonplaces, which any one could repeat after them as well as they, stirs me not a jot, — shakes not my good opinion of myself I ask what there . is that I can do as well as this. Nothing. What have I been doing all my life? Have I been idle, or have I nothing to show for all my labor and pains? Or have I passed my time in pouring words like water into empty sieves, rolling a stone up a hill and then down again, try- ing to prove an argument in the teeth of facts, and looking SIXTH nEADER. 281 for causes in the dark, and not finding them? Is there no one thing in which I can challenge competition, that I can bring as an instance of exact perfection, in which others can not find a flaw? The utmost I can pretend to is to write a description of what this fellow can do. I can write a book : so can many others who have not even learned to spell. What abortions are these essays! What errors, what ill-i:)ieced transitions, Avhat crooked reasons, what lame conclusions! How little is made out, and that little how ill ! Yet they are the best I can do. I endeavor to recollect all I have ever heard or thought upon a subject, and to express it as neatly as I can. Instead of writing on four subjects at a time, it is as much as I can manage, to keep the thread of one discourse clear and unen tangled. I have also time on my hands to correct my opinions and polish my periods; but the one I can not, and the other I will not, do. I am fond of arguing; yet, with a good deal of pains and practice, it is often much as I can do to beat my man, though he may be a very in- different hand. A common fencer would disarm his adver- sary in the twinkling of an eye, unless he were a professor like himself. A stroke of wit will sometimes produce this effect, but there is no such power or superiority in sense or reasoning. There is no complete mastery of execution to be shown there; and you hardly know the professor from the impudent pretender or the mere clown. LXXVII. ANTONY OVER CESAR'S DEAD BODY. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Csesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them ; The good is often interred with their bones; 6.-24. 282 ECLECTIC SERIES. So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus Hath told you Csesar was ambitious: If it were so, it was a grievous fault, And grievously hath Csesar answered it. Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest — For Brutus is an honorable man; So are they all, all honorable men — Come I to speak in Csesar's funeral. He was my friend, faithful and just to me: But Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man. He hath brought many captives home to Rome, Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: Did this in Csesar seem ambitious? When that the poor have cried, Csesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And Brutus is an honorable man. You all did see, that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown. Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; And, sure, he is an honorable man, I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, But here I am to speak what I do know. You all did love him once, not without cause; What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him ? O judgment ! thou art fled to brutish beasts, And men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there with Csesar, And I must pause till it come back to me. But yesterday the word of Csesar might Have stood against the world; now lies he there, SIXTH READER. 283 And none so poor to do him reverence. masters! if I were disposed to stir Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, Who, you all know, are honorable men: I will not do them wrong; I rather choose To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you. Than I will wrong such honorable men. But here's a parchment with the seal of Csesar; I found it in his closet ; 't is his will : Let but the commons hear this testament — Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read — And they Avould go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds. And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. And, dying, mention it within their wills, Bequeathing it as a rich legacy Unto their issue. Citizen. We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony. All. The will, the will; we will hear Caesar's will. Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; It is not meet you know how Csesar loved you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And, being men, hearing the will of Csesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad; 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; For, if you should. Oh Avhat would come of it! Oil. Read the will; we'll hear it, Antony; You shall read the will, Csesar's will. Ant. Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it : I fear I wrong the honorable men Whose daggers have stabbed Csesar. I do fear it. Cit. They were traitors : honorable men ! All. The will! the testament! 284 ECLECTIC SERIES. Ant. You will compel me, then, to read the will? Then make a ring about the corpse of Csesar, And let me show you him that made the will. (5e comes doivn from the pulpit.) If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. You all do know this mantle: I remember The first time ever Csesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, That day he overcame the Nervii: Look! in this place, ran Cassiiis' dagger through: See what a rent the envious Casca made: Through this, the well beloved Brutus stabbed ; And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, Mark how the blood of Csesar followed it, As rushing out of doors, to be resolved If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no; For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all ; For, Avhen the noble Caesar saw him stab, Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, Quite vanquished him: then burst his mighty heart; And, in his mantle muffling up his face. Even at the base of Pompey's statua, Which all the while ran blood, great Csesar fell. Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down. Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. Oh, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel The dint of pity : these are gracious drops. Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold Ut at. 2cl at. Bd at. All. Ani f 1st Git. 2d at. SIXTH HEADER. 285 Our Caesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here, Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors. piteous spectacle ! O noble Caesar ! We will be revenged ! Revenge ! About ! Seek ! Burn ! Fire ! Kill ! Slay ! Let not a traitor live. Stay, countrymen. Peace there! hear the noble Antony. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, we'll die with him. Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up To such a suddeu flood of mutiny. They that have done this deed are honorable: What private griefs they have, alas, I know not. That made them do it ; they are wise and honorable, And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts: I am no orator, as Brutus is ; But, as you know me all, a plain, blunt man, That love ray friend ; and that they know full well That gave me public leave to speak of him: For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech. To stirs men's blood : I only speak right on : I tell you that which you yourselves do know; Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor, dumb mouths, And bid them speak for me : but were I Brutus, And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue In every wound of Ciesar, that should move The atones of Rome to rise and mutiny. Shakespeare. — Julius Gcesar, Act Hi, Scene ii. 286 ECLECTIC SERIES. Notes. — Gaius Julius Caesar (b. 102, d. 44 B.C.) was the most remarkable genius of the ancient world. Caesar ruled Rome as imperator five years and a half, and, in the intervals of seven campaigns during that time, spent only fifteen months in Rome. Under his rule Rome was probably at her best, and his murder at once produced a state of anarchy. The conspirators against Csesar — among whom were Brutus, Oassius and Oasca — professed to be moved by honest zeal for the good of Rome; but their own ambition was no doubt the true motive, except with Brutus. Mark Antony was a strong friend of Julius Csesar. Upon the latter's death, Antony, by his funeral oration, incited the people and drove the conspirators from Rome. The Lupercal was a festival of purification and expiation held in Rome on the 15th of February. Antony was officiating as priest at this festival when he offered the crown to Caesar. In his "will Coesar left to every citizen of Rome a sum of money, and bequeathed his private gardens to the public. The Nervii were one of the most warlike tribes of Celtic Gaul. Caesar almost annihilated them in 57 B. C. Pompey, once associated with Caesar in the government of Rome, was afterwards at war with him. He was murdered by those who thovight to propitiate Caesar, but the latter wept when Pompey's head was sent to him, and had the murderers put to death. Statua is the Latin form of statue, in common use in Shakespeare's time; this form is rec^uired here by the meter. LXXVin. THE ENGLISH CHARACTER. William Hickling Prescott, 1790-1859, the historian, was the son of William Pi-escott, an eminent jui'ist, and the grandson of Col. William Prescott, who commanded the Americans at the hattle of Bunker Hill. He was born in Salem, Massachusetts, graduated at flarvard University in 1814, and died in Boston. Just as he was completing his college course, the careless sport of a fellow-student injured one of his eyes so seriously that he never recovered from it. He had intended to atlopt law as his profession; but, from his defective eyesight, he was obliged to choose work in which he could regulate his hours of labor, and could employ the aid of a secretary. He chose to be a historian; and followed his SIXTH HEADER. 287 choice with wonflcrfnl system, perseverance, and success till the close of his liCe. His works are: "Tlie Reign of Ferdinand and Isaliella," "The Conciuest of Mexico," " The Conquest of Peru," "The Reign of IMiilip 11.," and a volume of "Miscellanies." He had not completed the history of Philip at the time of his death. As a writer of history, Mr. Prescolt ranks with the tirst for accuracy, precision, clearness, and beauty of style. As a man, he was genial, kind-hearted and even-tempered. On the whole, what I have seen raises my preconceived estimate of the English character. It is full of generous, true, and manly qualities; and I doubt if there ever was so high a standard of morality in an aristocracy whicli has such means for self-indulgence at its command, and which occupies a position that secures it so much deference. In general, they do not seem to abuse their great advantages. The respect for religion — at least for the forms of it — is universal, and there are few, I imagine, of the great pro- prietors who are not more or less occupied with improving their estates, and with providing for the comfort of their tenantry, while many take a leading part in the great political movements^f the time. There never was an aris- tocracy wdiich combined so much practical knowledge and industry with the advantages of exalted rank. The Englishman is seen to most advantage in his country home. For he is constitutionally both domestic and rural in his habits. His fireside and his farm — these are the places in which one sees his simple and warm-hearted nature more freely unfolded. There is a shyness in an Englishman, — a natural reserve, which makes him cold to strangers, and difficult to approach. But once corner him in his own house, a frank and full expansion will be given to his feelings that we should Ibok for in vain in the colder Yankee, and a depth not be found in the light and superficial Frenchman,^ speaking of nationalities,' not of individualities. ^/ ■ (^^^ /; .J.'^L . The Englishman is the most truly rural in his tastes and habits of any people in the world. I am speaking of the higher classes. The aristocracy of other countries affect 288 ECLECTIC SERIES. the camp and the city. But the English love their old castles and country-seats with a patriotic love. They are fond of country sports. Every man shoots or hunts. No man is too old to be in the saddle some part of the day, and men of seventy years and more follow the hounds, and take a five-barred gate at a leap. The women are good whips, are fond 0/ horses and dogs, and other animals. Duchesses have their cows, their poultry, their pigs, — all Avatched over and provided with accommodations of Dutch- like neatness. All this is characteristic of the people. It may be thought to detract something from the feminine graces which in other lands make a woman so amiably de- pendent as to be nearly imbecile. But it produces a healthy and blooming race of women to match the hardy Englishman, — the finest development of the physical and moral nature which the world has witnessed. For Ave are not to look on the English gentleman as a mere Nimrod. With all his relish for field sports and country usages, he has his house filled Avith collections of art and with exten- sive libraries. The tables of the drawing-rooms are covered AA'ith the latest Avorks, sent doAvn by the London publisher. Every guest is provided Avith an apparatus for writing, and often a little library of books for his OAvn amusement. The English country -gentleman of the present day is any thing but a Squire Western, though he does retain all his relish for field sports. The character of an Englishman, under its most refined aspect, has some disagreeable points Avhich jar unpleasantly on the foreigner not accustomed to them. The conscious- ness of national supeiiority, combined AA'ith natural feelings of independence, giA'^es him an air of arrogance, though it must be oAvned that this is never betrayed in his OAvn house, — I may almost say in his oaa'u country. But abroad, Avhen he seems to institute a comparison between himself and the people he is throAvn Avith, it becomes so obA'ious that he is the most unpopular, not to say odious, SIXTH READER. 289 person in the world. Even the open hand with which he dispenses his bounty will not atone for the violence he offers to national vanity. There are other defects, which are visible even in his most favored circumstances. Such is his bigotry, surpass- ing every thing, in a quiet passive form, that has been wit- nessed since the more active bigotry of the times of the Spanish Philips. Such, too, is the exclusive, limited range of his knowledge and conceptions of all political and social topics and relations. The Englishman, the cultivated En- glishman, has no standard of excellence borrowed from mankind. His speculation never travels beyond his own little — great little — island. That is the world to him. True, he travels, shoots lions among the Hottentots, chases the grizzly bear over the Rocky Mountains, kills elephants in India and salmon on the coast of Labrador, comes home, and very likely makes a book. But the scope of his ideas does not seem to be enlarged by all this. The body travels, not the mind. And, however he may abuse his own land, he returns home as hearty a John Bull, with all his prejudices and national tastes as rooted, as before. The English — the men of fortune — all travel. Yet how little sympathy they show for other jDeople or institutions, and how slight is the interest they take in them ! They are islanders, cut off from the great world. But their island is, indeed, a world of its own. With all their faults, never has the sun shone — if one may use the expression in reference to England — on a more noble race, or one that has done more for the great interests of humanity. Notes. — Nimrod is spoken of in Genesis (x. 9) as "a mighty hunter." Thus the name came to be applied to any one devoted to hunting. Squire Western is a character in Fielding's "Tom Jones." He is represented as an ignorant, prejudiced, irascible, but, withal, a jolly, good-humored English country gentleman. 290 ECLECTIC SERIES. LXXIX. THE SONG OF THE POTTER. Turn, turn, my wheel ! Turn round and round, Without a pause, without a sound: So spins the flying world away! This clay, well mixed with marl and sand, Follows the motion of my hand; For some must follow, and some command, Though all are made of clay ! Turn, turn, my wheel! All things must change To something new, to something strange; Nothing that is can pause or stay; The moon will wax, the moon will wane. The mist and cloud will turn to rain. The rain to mist and cloud again. To-morrow be to-day. Turn, turn, my wheel! All life is brief; What now is bud will soon be leaf. What now is leaf will soon decay; The wind blows east, the wind blows west ; The blue eggs in the robin's nest Will soon have wings and beak and breast. And flutter and fly away. Turn, turn, my wheel ! This earthern jar A touch can make, a touch can mar; And shall it to the Potter say. What makest thou? Thou hast no hand? As men who think to understand A world by their Creator planned, Who wiser is than they. SIXTH READER. 291 Turn, turn, my wheel! 'Tis nature's plan The child should grow into the man, The man grow wrinkled, old, and gray; In youth the heart exults and sings, The pulses leap, the feet have wings ; In age the cricket chirps, and brings The harvest home of day. Turn, turn, ray wheel! The human race, Of every tongue, of every place, Caucasian, Coptic, or Malay, All that inhabit this great earth, Whatever be their rank or worth, Are kindred and allied by birth. And made of the same clay. Turn, turn, my wheel! What is begun At daybreak must at dark be done. To-morrow will be another day; To-morrow the hot furnace flame Will search the heart and try the frame. And stamp with honor or with shame These vessels made of clay. Stop, stop, my wheel! Too soon, too soon The noon will be the afternoon. Too soon to-day be yesterday; Behind us in our jmth we cast The broken potsherds of the past,- And all are ground to dust at last, And trodden into clay. — Longfellow. Note. — Coptic was formerly the language of Egyp£, and is preserved in the inscriptions of the ancient monuments found there; it has now given place entirely to Arabic. 292 ECLECTIC SERIES. LXXX. A HOT DAY IN NEW YORK. "William Dean Howells, 1837 , was born in Belmont County) Ohio. In boyhood he learned the printer's tradfe, at which he worked for several years. He published a volume of poems in 1860, in connec- tion with John J. Piatt. From 1861 to 1865 he was United States Consul at Venice. On his return he resided for a time in New York City, and was one of the editors of the " Nation." In 1871 he was appointed editor-in-chief of the "Atlantic Monthly." He held the position ten years, and then retired in order to devote himself more exclusively to his own writings. Mr. Howells has written several books, novels and sketches: his writings are marked by an artistic finish, and a keen but subtile humor. The following selection is an extract from " Their Wedding Journey." When they alighted, they took their way up through one of the streets of the great wholesale businesses, to Broadway. On this street -yfas a throng of trucks and wagons, lading and unlading; bales and boxes rose and sank by pulleys overhead; the footway Avas a labyrinth of packages of every shai:)e and size; there was no flagging of the pitiless energy that moved all forward, no sign of how heavy a weight lay on it, save in the reeking faces of its helpless instruments. It was four o'clock, the deadliest hour of the deadly summer day. The spiritless air seemed to have a quality of blackness in it, as if filled with the gloom of low- hovering wings. One half the street lay in shadow, and one half in sun ; but the sunshine itself Avas dim, as if a heat greater than its own had smitten it with languor. Little gusts of sick, warm wind blew across the great avenue at the coniers of the intersecting streets. Li the upward distance, at which the journeyers looked, the loftier roofs and steeples lifted themselves dim out of the livid atmosphere, and far up and down the length of the street swept a stream of tormented life. All sorts of Avheeled things thronged it, conspicuous among which rolled and jarred the gaudily painted stages, with quivering horses driven each by a man who sat in the shade of a branching, white umbrella, and suffered with a SIXTH READER. 293 moody triiculence of aspect, and as if he harbored the bitterness of death in his lieart for the crowding passengers within, when one of them pulled the straji about his legs, and summoned him to halt. Most of the foot-passengers kept to the shady side, and to the unaccustomed eyes of the strangers they were not less in number than at any other time, though there w'ere fewer women among them. Indomitably resolute of soul, they held their course Avith the swift pace of custom, and only here and there they showed the effect of the heat. One man, collarless, with waistcoat unbuttoned, and hat set far back from his forehead, Avaved a fan before his death-white, flabby face, and set down one foot after the other with the heaviness of a somnambulist. Another, as they passed him, was saying huskily to the friend at his side, "I can't stand this much longer. My hands tingle as if they had gone to sleep; my heart — " But still the multitude hurried on, passing, repassing, encountering, evading, vanishing into shoj^-doors, and emerging from them, dispersing down the side streets, and swarming out of them. It was a scene that possessed the beholder wdth singular fascination, and in its effect of universal lunacy, it might well have seemed the last phase of a world presently to be destroyed. They who were in it, but not of it, as they fancied — though there was* no reason for this — looked on it amazed, and at last their own errands being accom- plished, and themselves so far cured of the madness of purpose, they cried with one voice that it was a hideous sight, and strove to take refuge from it in the nearest place Avhere the soda-fountain sparkled. It w'as a vain desire. At the front door of the apoth- ecary's hung a thermometer, and as they entered they heard the next comer cry out wdth a maniacal pride in the affliction laid upon mankind, "Ninety-seven degrees!" Be- hind them, at the door, there poured in a ceaseless stream 294 ECLECTIC SERIES. of peoi^le, each pausing at the shrine of heat, before he tossed off the hissing draught that two pale, close-clipped boys served them from either side of the fountain. Then, in the order of their coming, they issued through another door upon the side street, each, as he disappeared, turning his face half round, and casting a casual glance upon a little group near another counter. The group was of a very patient, half-frightened, half- puzzled looking gentleman who sat perfectly still on a stool, and of a lady wdio stood beside him, rubbing all over his head a handkerchief full of pounded ice, and eas- ing one hand with the other when the first became tired. Basil drank his soda, and paused to look upon this group, which he felt would commend itself to realistic sculpture as eminently characteristic of the local life, and, as "The Sun-stroke," would sell enormously in the hot season. "Better take a little more of that," the apothecary said, looking up from his prescrijition, and, as the organized sympathy of the seemingly indifferent crowd, smiling very kindly at his patient, who thereuj^on tasted something in the glass he held. "Do you still feel like fainting?" asked the humane authority. "Slightly, now' and then," answered the other, "but I'm hanging on hard to the bottom curve of that icicled S on your soda-fountain, and I feel that I'm all right as long as I can see th'at. The people get rather hazy occasionally, and have no features to speak of. But I don't know that I look very impressive myself," he added in the jesting mood which seems the natural condi- tion of Americans in the face of all embarrassments. "Oh, you'll do!" the apothecary answered, with a laugh; but he said, in an answer to an anxious question from the lady, "He mustn't be moved for an hour yet," and gayly pestled away at a prescrij^tion, wdiile she resumed her office of grinding the pounded ice round and round upon her husband's skull. Isabel offered her the commiseration of I SIXTH READER. 295 friendly words, and of looks kinder yet, and then, seeing that they could do nothing, she and Basil fell into the end- less procession, and passed out of the side door. "What a shocking thing," she Avhispered. "Did you see how all the people looked, one after another, so indif- ferently at that couple, and evidently forgot them the next instant? It was dreadful. I shouldn't like to have you sun-struck in New York." "That's very considerate of you; but place for place, if any accident must happen to me among strangers, I think I should prefer to have it in New York. The big- gest jjlace is always the kindest as well as the crudest place. Amongst the thousands of spectators the good Samaritan as well as the Levite would be sure to be. As for a sun-stroke, it requires peculiar gifts. But if you com- pel me to a choice in the matter, then I say give me the busiest part of Broadway for a sun-stroke. There is such experience of calamity there that you could hardly fall the first victim to any misfortune." LXXXI. DISCONTENT.— AN ALLEGORY. Joseph Addison, 1672-1719, the brilliant essayist and poet, has long occupied an exalted place in English literature. He was the sou of an English clergyman, was born in Wiltshire, and educated at Oxford; he died at " Holland House '' (the property of his wife, to whom he had been married but about two years), and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Several years of his life were si>ent in the political affairs of his time, he held several public offices, and was, lor ten yeai-s, a member of Pai'lia- ment. His fame a-s an author rests chiefly upon his " Hymns," his tragedy of "Cato," and his " Essays ' contributed principally to the "Tatler" and the "Spectator." The excellent style of his essays, their genial wit and sprightly humor, raade them conspicuous in an age when coarseness, bitterness, and exaggeration deformed the writings of the most eminent; and these characteristics have given them an unques- tioned place among the classics of our language. Mr. Addison was shy and difRdent, but genial and lovable, his moral character' was above reproach, excepting that he is said to have been too fond of wine. 296 ECLECTIC SERIES. It is a celebrated thought of Socrates, that if all the misfortunes of mankind were cast into a public stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those who now think themselves the most unhappy, would prefer the share they are already possessed of before that which would fall to them by such a division. Horace has carried this thought a great deal farther, and supposes that the hardships or misfortunes we lie under, are more easy to us than those of any other person would be, in case we could change conditions with him. As I was ruminating on these two remarks, and seated in my elbow-chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when, on a sudden, methought there was a proclamation made by Jupiter, that every mortal should bring in his griefs and calamities, and throw them together in a heap. There was a large plain appointed for this purpose. I took my stand in the center of it, and saw, w'ith a great deal of pleasure, the whole human species marching one after another, and throwing down their several loads, which immediately grew up into a prodigious mountain, that seemed to rise above the clouds. There was a certain lady of a thin, airy shape, who was very active in this solemnity. She carried a magnifying glass in one of her hands, and was clothed in a loose, flow- ing robe, embroidered with several figures of fiends and sjiecters, that discovered themselves in a thousand chimer- ical shapes as her garment hovered in the wind. There was something wild and distracted in her looks. Her name was Fancy. She led up every mortal to the appointed place, after having officiously assisted him in making up his pack, and laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me to see my fellow-creatures groaning under their respective burdens, and to consider that prodigious bulk of human calamities which lay before me. There were, how'ever, several persons who gave me great diversion upon this occasion. I observed one bringing in a SIXTH READER. 297 fardel, very carefully concealed under an old embroidered cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the heap, I dis- covered to be poverty. Another, after a great deal of puffing, threw down his luggage, which, upon examining, I found to be his wife. There were multitudes of lovers saddled with very whim- sical burdens, composed of darts and flames; but, what was very odd, though they sighed as if their hearts would break under these bundles of calamities, they could not persuade themselves to cast them into the heap, when they came up to it; but, after a few faint eflbrts, shook their heads, and marched away as heavy loaden as they came. I saw multitudes of old women throw down their wrinkles, and several young ones who stripped themselves of a tawny skin. There were very great heaps of red noses, large lij^s, and rusty teeth. The truth of it is, I was surprised to see the greatest f)art of the mountain made up of bodily deformities. Observing one advancing toward the heap with a larger cargo than ordinary upon his back, I found, upon his near approach, that it was only a natural hump, which he disposed of with great joy of heart among this collection of human miseries. There were, likewise, distempers of all sorts, though I could not but observe that there were many more imag- inary than real. One little packet I could not but take notice of, Avhich Avas a complication of all the diseases in- cident to human nature, and was in the hand of a great many fine people. This was called the spleen. But what most of. all surprised me was, that there was not a single vice or folly thrown into the whole heap : at which I was very much astonished, having concluded within myself that every one would take this opportunity of getting rid of his passions, prejudices, and frailties. I took notice in particular of a very profligate fellow, who, I did not question, came loaden with his crimes, but 298 ECLECTIC SERIES. upon searching into his bundle, I found that instead of throwing his guilt from him, he had only laid down his memory. He was followed" by another worthless rogue, who flung away his modesty instead of his ignorance. When the whole race of mankind had thus cast their burdens, the phantom which had been so busy on this occasion, seeing me an idle spectator of what passed, ap- proached toward me. I grew uneasy at her presence, when, of a sudden, she held her magnifying glass full before my eyes. I no sooner saw my face in it, but was startled at the shortness of it, which now appeared to me in its utmost aggravation. The immoderate breadth of the features made me verj much out of humor with my own counte- nance, upon which I threw it from me like a mask. It happened very luckily that one who stood by me had just before thrown down his visage, which, it seems, was too long for him. It was, indeed, extended to a most shameful length ; I believe the very chin Avas, modestly speaking, as long as my whole face. We had both of us an opportunity of mending ourselves; and all the contribu- tions being now brought in, every man Avas at liberty to exchange his misfortunes for those of another person. As we stood round the heap, and surveyed the several materials of which it was composed, there was scarcely a mortal in this vast multitude who did not discover what he thought pleasures and blessings of life, and wondered how the owners of them ever came to look upon them as burthens and grievances. As we were regarding very at- tentively this confusion of miseries, this chaos of calamity, Jupiter issued out a second proclamation, that every one was now at liberty to exchange his affliction, and to return to his habitation with any such other bundle as should be delivered to him. Upon this, Fancy began again to bestir herself, and, parceling out the whole heap with incredible activity, recommended to every one his particular packet. The hurry and confusion at this time was not to be ex- SIXTH READER. 299 pressed. Some observations, which I made upon the occa- sion, I shall communicate to the public. A venerable, gray-headed man, who had laid down the colic, and who, I found, wanted an heir to his estate, snatched up an undutiful son that had been thrown into the heap by an angry father. The graceless youth, in less than a quarter of an hour, pulled the old gentleman by the beard, and had liked to have knocked his brains out; so that meeting the true father, who came toward him with a fit of the gripes, he begged him to take his son again, ajid give him back his colic; but they were incapable, either of them, to recede from the choice they had made. A poor galley-slave, who had thrown down his chains, took up the gout in their stead, but made such wry faces that one might easily perceive he was no great gainer by the bargain. The female world were very busy among themselves in bartering for features; one was trucking a lock of gray hairs for a carbuncle; and another was making over a short waist for a pair of round shoulders ; but on all these occasions there was not one of them who did not think the new blemish, as soon as she had got it into her possession, much more disagreeable than the old one. I must not omit my own particular adventure. My friend with the long visage had no sooner taken upon him my short face, but he made such a grotesque figure in it, that as I looked upon him, I could not forbear laughing at myself, insomuch that I put my own face out of counte- nance. The poor gentleman was so sensible of the ridicule, that I found he was ashamed of what he had done. On the other side, I found that I myself had no great reason to triumph, for as I went to touch my forehead, I missed the place, and clapped my finger upon my upper lip. Be- sides, as my nose was exceedingly prominent, I gave it two or three unlucky knocks as I was playing my hand about my face, and aiming at some other part of it. 300 ECLECTIC SERIES. I saw two other gentlemen by me who were in the same ridiculous circumstances. These had made a foolish swap between a couple of thick bandy legs and two long trap- sticks that had no calves to them. One of these looked like a man walking upon stilts, and was so lifted up into the air, above his ordinary height, that his head turned round with it, while the other made such awkward circles, as he attempted to walk, that he scarcely knew how to move forward upon his new supporters. Observing him to be a pleasant kind of a fellow, I stuck my cane in the ground, and told him I would lay him a bottle of wine that he did not march up to it on a line that I drew for him, in a quarter of an hour. The heap was at last distributed among the two sexes, who made a most piteous sight, as they wandered up and down under the pressure of their several burthens. The whole plain was filled with murmurs and complaints, groans and lamentations. Juj^iter, at length taking com- passion on the jjoor mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down their loads, with a design to give every one his own again. They discharged themselves with a great deal of pleasure; after which, the jjhantom who had led them into such gross delusions, was commanded to disappear. There was sent in her stead a goddess of a quite different figure: her motions Avere steady and composed, and her asjiect serious but cheerful. She every now and then cast her eyes toward heaven, and fixed them upon Jupiter. Her name was Patience. She had no sooner placed herself by the Mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought very re- markable, the whole heap sunk to such a degree that it did not appear a third part so big as it was before. She afterward returned every man his own proper calamity, and, teaching him how to bear it in the most commodious manner, he marched off with it contentedly, being very well pleased that he had not been left to his own choice as to the kind of evil which fell to his lot. SIXTH READER. 301 Beside the several pieces of morality to be drawn out of this vision, I learnt from it never to repine at my own misfortunes, or to envy the happiness of another, since it is impossible for any man to form a right judgment of his neighbor's sufierings; for which reason, also, I have deter- mined never to think too lightly of another's complaints, but to regard the sorrows of my fellow-creatures with sen- timents of humanity and compassion. Notes. — Horace (b. 65, d. 8 B.C.) "was a celebrated Roman poet. Jupiter, according to mythology, was the greatest of the Greek and Roman gods; he was thought to be the supreme ruler of both mortals nnd immortals. LXXXII. JUPITER AND TEN, James T. Fields, 1817-1881, was born at Portsmouth, New Hampshire. For many years he was partner in the well-known firm of Ticknor & Fields (later Fields, Osgood & Co.), the leading publishers of standard American literature. For eight years, he was chief editor of the " At- lantic Monthly;" and, since he left that position, he has often enriched its pages by the productions of his pen. Of late, ISIr. Fields has gained some reputation as a lecturer. His literary abilities are of no mean order ; but he has not done so much in producing literature himself, as in aiding others in its production. Mrs. Chub was rich and portly, Mrs. Chub was very grand, Mrs. Chub was always reckoned A lady in the land. You shall see her marble mansion In a very stately square,- — Mr. C. knows Avhat it cost him. But that's neither here nor there. 302 ECLECTIC SERIES. Mrs. Chub was so sagacious, Such a patron of the arts, And she gave such foreign orders That she won all foreign hearts. Mrs. Chub was always talking. When she Avent away from home, Of a most prodigious painting Which had just arrived from Rome. " Such a treasure," she insisted, "One might never see again!" "What's the subject?" we inquired. "It is Jupiter and Ten!" "Ten what?" we blandly asked her For the knowledge we did lack, "Ah! that I can not tell you, But the name is on the back. "There it stands in printed letters, — Come to-morrow, gentlemen, — Come and see our splendid painting, Our fine Jupiter and Ten ! " When Mrs. Chub departed. Our brains began to rack, — She could not be mistaken For the name was on the back. So we begged a great Professor To lay aside his pen. And give some information Touching "Jupiter and Ten." SIXTH READER. 303 And we pondered well the subject, And our Lempriere we turned, To find out who the Ten were; But we could not, though we burned. But when we saw the picture, — O Mrs. Chub! Oh, fie! 0! We perused the printed label. And 't was Jupiter and Io ! Notes. — John Lempriere, an Englishman, was the author of a "Classical Dictionary" which until the middle of the present century was the chief book of reference on ancient mythology. Io is a mythical heroine of Greece, with whom Jupiter was enamored. LXXXIII. SCENE FROM "THE POOR GENTLEMAN." George Colman, 1762-1836, was tlie son of George Colinan, a writer of dramas, wlio in 1777 purchased the "Hayniarket Tlieater," in London. Owing to tlie illness of the father, Oolman the younger assumed the management of the theater in 1785, which post he held for a long time. He was highly distinguished as a dramatic author and wit. " The Poor Gentleman," from which the following selection is adapted, is perhaps the best known of his works. Sm Egbert Bramble and Humphrey Dobbdjs. Sir R. I'll tell you what, Humphrey Dobbins, there is not a syllable of sense in all you have been saying. But I suppose you will maintain there is. Hum. Yes. Sir R. Yes! Is that the way you talk to me, you old boor? What's my name? Hum. Robert Bramble. 304 ECLECTIC SERIES. Sir R. An't I a baronet? Sir Robert Bramble, of Blackberry Hall, in the county of Kent? 'Tis time you should know it, for you have been my clumsy, two-fisted valet these thirty years: can you deny that? Hum. Hem ! Sir R. Hera? What do you mean by hem? Open that rusty door of your mouth, and make your ugly voice walk out of it. Why don't you answer my question ? Hum. Because, if I contradict you, I shall tell you a lie, and whenever I agree with you, you are sure to fall out. Sir R. Humphrey Dobbins, I have been so long en- deavoring to beat a few brains into your pate that all your hair has tumbled off before my point is carried. Hum. What then? Our parson says my head is an emblem of both our honors. Sir R. Ay; because honors, like your head, are apt to be empty. Hum. No; but if a servant has grown bald under his master's nose, it looks as if there was honesty on one side, and regard for it on the other. Sir R. Why, to be sure, old Humphrey, you are as honest as a — pshaw! the parson means to palaver us; but, to return to my position, I tell you I don't like your flat contradiction. Hum. Yes, you do. Sir R. I tell you I don't. I only love to hear men's arguments. I hate their flummery. Hum. What do you call flummery? Sir R. Flattery, blockhead! a dish too often served up by paltry poor men to paltry rich ones. Hum. I never serve it up to you. Sir R. No, you give me a dish of a difierent descrip- tion. Hum. Hem! what is it? Sir R. Sour-krout, you old crab. SIXTH READER. 305 Mum. I have held you a stout tug at argument this many a year. Sir R. And yet I could never teach you a syllogism. Now mind, when a poor man assents to what a rich man says, I suspect he means to flatter him: now I am rich, and hate flattery. Ergo — when a poor man subscribes to my opinion, I hate him. Hum. That's wrong. Sir R. Very well; negatur; now prove it. Sum. Put the case then, I am a poor man. Sir R. You an't, you scoundrel. You know you shall never want while I have a shilling. Hum. Bless you! Sir R. Pshaw! Proceed. Hum. Well, then, I am a poor — I must be a poor man now, or I never shall get on. Sir R. Well, get on, be a poor man. Hum. I am a poor man, and I argue with you, and convince you, you are wrong; then you call yourself a blockhead, and I am of your opinion: now, that's no flattery. Sir R. Why, no; but when a man's of the same opinion with me, he puts an end to the argument, and that puts an end to the conversation, and so I hate him for that. But where 's my nephew Frederic? Hum. Been out these two hours. Sir R. An undutiful cub ! Only arrived from Russia last night, and though I told him to stay at home till I rose, he's scampering over the fields like a Calmuck Tartar. Hum. He's a fine fellow. Sir R. He has a touch of our family. Don't you think he is a little like me, Humphrey? Hum. No, not a bit; you are as ugly an old man as ever I clapped my eyes on. Sir R. Now that's plaguy impudent, but there's no 6.-26. 306 ECLECTIC SERIES. flattery in it, and it keeps up the independence of argu- ment. His father, my brother Job, is of as tame a spirit — Humjihrey, you remember ray brother Job? Hum. Yes, you drove him to Russia five-and-twenty years ago. Sir R. I did not drive him. Hum. Yes, you did. You would never let him be at peace in the way of argument. Sir R. At peace! Zounds, he would never go to war. Hum. He had the merit to be calm. Sir R. So has a duck-pond. He was a bit of still life; a chip; weak water-gruel; a tame rabbit, boiled to rags, without sauce or salt. He received my arguments with his mouth open, .like a poor-box gaping for half-pence, and, good or bad, he swallowed them all without any resistance. We could n't disagree, and so we parted. Hum. And the poor, meek gentleman went to Russia for a quiet life. Sir R. A quiet life! Why, he married the moment he got there, tacked himself to the shrew relict of a Russian merchant, and continued a speculation with her in furs, flax, potashes, tallow, linen, and leather; what's the conse- quence? Thirteen months ago he broke. Hum. Poor soul, his wife should have followed the business for him. Sir R. I fancy she did follow it, for she died just as he broke, and now this madcap, Frederic, is sent over to me for protection. Poor Job, now he is in distress, I must not neglect his sou. Hum,. Here comes his son; that's Mr. Frederic. Enter Fredekic. Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, good morning! Your park is nothing but beauty. Sir R. Who bid you caper over my beauty? I told you to stay in-doors till I got up. SIXTH READER. 3Q7 Fred. So you did, but I entirely forgot it. Sir R. And pray, what made you forget it? Fred. The sun. Sir R. The sun! he's mad! you mean the moon, I believe. Fred. Oh, my dear uncle, you don't know the effect of a fine spring morning upon a fellow just arrived from Russia. The day looked bright, trees budding, birds sing- ing, the park was so gay that I took a leap out of your old balcony, made your deer fly before me like the wind, and chased them all around the park to get an appetite for breakfast, while you were snoring in bed, uncle. Sir R. Oh, oh ! So the eflTect of English sunshine upon a Russian, is to make him jump out of a balcony, and worry my deer. Fred. I confess it had that influence upon me. Sir R. You had better be influenced by a rich old uncle, unless you think the sun likely to leave you a fat legacy. Fred. I hate legacies. Sir R. Sir, that's mighty singular. They are pretty solid tokens, at least. Fred. Very melancholy tokens, uncle; they are the posthumous dispatches Affection sends to Gratitude, to in- form us we have lost a gracious friend. Sir R. How charmingly the dog argues! Fred. But I own my spirits ran away with me this morning. I will obey you better in future; for they tell me you are a very worthy, good sort of old gentleman. S^r R. Now who had the familiar impudence to tell you that? Fred. Old rusty, there. Sir R. Why Humphrey, you didn't? Sum. Yes, but I did though. Fred. Yes, he did, and on that score I shall be anxious to show you obedience, for 'tis as meritorious to attempt 308 ECLECTIC SERIES. sharing a good man's heart, as it is paltry to have designs upon a rich man's money. A noble nature aims its atten- tions full breast high, uncle; a mean mind levels its dirty assiduities at the pocket. Sir R. (Shaking him by the hand.') Jump out of every window I have in my house ; hunt my deer into high fevers, my fine fellow! Ay, that's right. This is spunk, and plain speaking. Give me a man who is always fling- ing his dissent to my doctrines smack in my teeth. Fred. I disagree with you there, uncle. Hum. And so do I. Fred. You! you forward puppy! If you were not so old, I'd knock you down. Sir R. I'll knock you down, if you do. I won't have my servants thumped into dumb flattery. Hum. Come, you are rufiied. Let us go to the business of the morning. Sir R. I hate the business of the morning. Don't you see we are engaged in discussion. I tell you, I hate the business of the morning. Hum. No you don't. Sir R. Don't I? Why not? Hum. Because 'tis charity. Sir R. Pshaw! Well, we must not neglect the bus- iness, if there be any distress in the parish. Read the list, Humphrey. Hum. {Taking out a paper and reading.) "Jonathan Huggins, of Muck Mead, is put in prison for debt." Sir R. Why, it was only last Aveek that Gripe, the attorney, recovered two cottages for him by law, worth sixty pounds. Hum. Yes, and charged a hundred for his trouble; so seized the cottages for part of his bill, and threw Jonathan into jail for the remainder. Sir R. A harpj! I must relieve the poor fellow's dis- tress. SIXTH READER. 309 Fred. And I must kick his attorney. Hum. {^Reading. ) ' ' The curate's horse is dead." Sir R. Pshaw! There's no distress in that. Hum. Yes, there is, to a man that must go twenty miles every Sunday to 2:)reach three sermons, for thirty pounds a year. Sir R. Why won't the vicar give him another nag? Hum. Because 't is cheaper to get another curate ready mounted. Sir R. Well, send him the black pad which I pur- chased last Tuesday, and tell him to work him as long as he lives. What else have we upon the list? Hum. Something out of the common; there's one Lieutenant Worthington, a disabled officer and a widower, come to lodge at Farmer Harrowby's, in the village ; he is, it seems, very poor, and more proud than poor, and more honest than proud. Sir R. And so he sends to me for assistance? Hum. He 'd see you hanged first ! No, he 'd sooner die than ask you or any man for a shilling ! There 's his daughter, and his wife's aunt, and an old corporal that served in the wars with him, he keeps them all upon his half-pay. Sir R. Starves them all, I'm afraid, Humphrey. Fred. (Going.) Good morning, uncle. Sir R. You rogue, where are you running now? Fred. To talk with Lieutenant Worthington. Sir R. And what may you be going to say to him? Fred. I can't tell till I encounter him ; and then, uncle, when I have an old gentleman by the hand, who has been disabled in his country's service, and is struggling to sup- port his motherless child, a poor relation, and a faithful servant, in honorable indigence, impulse will supply me with words to express my sentiments. Sir R. Stop, you rogue; I must be before you in this business. 310 ECLECTIC SEEIES. Fred. That depends on wlio can run the fastest; so, start fair, uncle, and here goes. — {Runs out.) Sir B. Stop, stop; why, Frederic — a jackanapes — to take my department out of my hands! I'll disinherit the dog for his assurance. Hum. No, you won't. • Sir R. Won't I? Hang me if I — but we'll argue that point as we go. So, come along Humphrey. Notes. — Ergo (pro. er^go) is a Latin word meaning there- fore. Negatur (pro. ne-ga^tur) is a Latin verb, and means it is denied. The Tartars are a branch of the Mongolian race, embrac- ing among other tribes tlie Calmucks. The latter are a fierce, nomadic peoj^le inhabiting parts of the Russian and Chinese empires. LXXXIV. MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. ■William Cowper, 1731-1800, was the son of an English clergyman; both his parents were descended from noble families. He was always of a gentle, timid disposition; and the roughness of his school-fellows in- creased liis weakness in this respect. He studied law, and was admitted to the bar, but never practiced his profession. When he was about thirty years of age, he was appointed to a clerkship in the House of Lords, but could not summon courage to enter upon the discharge of its duties. He was so disturbed by this aflfair that he became insane, sought to destroy himself, and had to be consignetl to a private asylum. Soon after his recovery, he found a congenial home in the family of the Rev. Mr. Unwin. On the death of this gentleman, a few years later, he con- tinued to reside with his widow till her death, a short time before that of Cowper. Most of this time tlieir home was at Olney. His first writ- ings were published in 1782. He wrote several Ijeautiful hymns, "The Task," and some minor poems. These, with his translations of Hojner and his correspondence, make up his published works. His life was always pure and gentle; he took great pleasure in simple, natural objects, and in playing with animals. His insanity returned from time to time, and darkened his life at its close. Wlien six years of age, he lost his mother ; and the following selection is part of a touching tribute to her memory written many years later. SIXTH READER. 311 Oh that those lips had language! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard them last. My mother, when I learned that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorroAving son. Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss, Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss. Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers — Yes ! I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day; I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away; And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! But was it such? It was. Where thou art gone, Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. May I but meet thee on that jieaceful shore. The parting word shall pass my lips no more. Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of thy quick return ; What ardently I wished, I long believed ; And, disappointed still, was still deceived; By expectation, every day beguiled. Dupe of to-morrow, even when a child. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till,' all my stock of infant sorrows spent, I learned at last submission to my lot; But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 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. 312 ECLECTIC SERIES. And now, farewell! Time, unrevoked, has run His wonted course, yet what I wished is done. By Contemplation's help, not sought in vain, I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again; To have renewed the joys that once were mine, Without the sin of violating thine ; And, while the wings of Fancy still are free. And I can view this mimic show of thee, Time has but half succeeded in his theft, — Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left. LXXXV. DEATH OP SAMSON. John Milton, 1608-1674. Eight years before the greatest English poet, Shakespeare, died, ISliltou, wlio ranks next to him, was born. He was a native of London, where his father followed the profession of a scrive- ner, in which he acquired a competence. As a boy, Milton was exceed- ingly studious, continuing liis studies till midniglat. He graduated at Christ's College, Cambridge, wliere his singular beauty, his sligiit figure, and his fastidious morality caused his companions to nickname him "tlie lady of Christ's." On leaving college he spent five years more in study, and produced l»is ligliter poems. He then traveled on tlie conti- nent, returning about the time tlie civil war broke out. For a time he tajight a private school, but soon threw himself with all the power of his able and tried pen into the political struggle. He was the champion of Parliament and of Cromwell for about twenty years. On the accession of Charles II., he concealed himself for a time, but was soon allowed to live quietly in London. His ej'e-sight had totally failed in 1651; but now, in blindness, age, family affliction, and comparative poverty, he produced his great work "Paradise Lost." In 1667 he sold the poem for £5 in cash, with a promise of £10 more on certain contingencies ; the sum total received by himself and family for the immortal poem, was £23. Later, he produced " Paradise Regained " and " Samson Agonistes," from the latter of which the following extract is taken. Milton is a wonderful example of a man, who, by tlie greatness of his own mind, triumphed over trials, afllictions, hardships, and the evil influence of bitter political controversy. Occasions drew me early to this city; And, as the gates I entered with sunrise. The morning trumpets festival proclaimed SIXTH READER. 313 Through each high street: little 1 had dispatched, When all abroad was rumored that this day Samson should he brought forth, to show the people Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games. I sorrowed at his captive state, But minded not to be absent at that si^ectacle. The building was a sj^acious theater Half-round, on two main pillars vaulted high, With seats where all the lords, and each degree Of sort, might sit in order to behold ; The other side was open, where the throng On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand : I among these aloof obscurely stood. The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice Had filled their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine, When to their sports they turned. Immediately Was Samson as a public servant brought. In their state livery clad : before him pij^es And timbrels; on each side went armed guards; Both horse and foot before him and behind. Archers and slingers, cataphracts, and spears. At sight of him the people with a shout Rifted the air, clamoring their god with praise. Who had made their dreadful enemy their thiuil. He, patient, but undaunted, where they led him, Came to the place; and what was set before him. Which without help of eye might be essayed. To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still performed All with incredible, stupendous force. None daring to appear antagonist. At length for intermission sake, they led him Between the pillars; he his guide requested, 314 ECLECTIC SERIES. As overtired, to let him lean awhile With both his arms on those two massy pillars, That to the arched roof gave main support. He unsuspicious led him; which when Samson Felt in his arms, with head awhile inclined. And eyes fast fixed, he stood, as one who prayed. Or some great matter in his mind revolved: At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud: — "Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed I have performed, as reason was, obeying, Not without wonder or delight beheld ; Now, of my own accord, such other trial I mean to show you of my strength yet greater As with amaze shall strike all who behold." This uttered, straining all his nerves, he bowed ; As with the force of winds and waters pent When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars With horrible convulsion to and fro He tugged, he shook, till down they came, and drew The whole roof after them with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sat beneath, — Lords, ladies, captains, counselors, or priests. Their choice nobility and flower, not only Of this, but each Philistian city round. Met from all parts to solemnize this feast. Samson, with these immixed, inevitably Pulled down the same destruction on himself; The vulgar only 'scaped who stood without. Note. — The person supposed to be speaking is a Hebrew who chanced to be present at Gaza when the incidents re- lated took place. After the catastrophe he rushes to Manoah, the father of Samson, to whom and his assembled friends he relates what he saw. (Cf. Bible, Judges xvi, 23.) SIXTH BEADEB. 315 LXXXVI. AN EVENING ADVENTURE. 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. He had been there but a short time, before an old man alighted from his gig, with the apparent intention of becoming his fellow guest at the same house. As the old man drove up, he observed that both the shafts of his gig were broken, and that they were held to- gether by withes, formed from the bark of a hickory sap- ling. Oiu- traveler observed further that he was plainly clad, that his knee buckles were loosened, and that some- thing like negligence pervaded his dress. Conceiving him to be one of the honest yeomamy of om* land, the court- esies of strangers passed between them, and they entered the tavern. It was about the same time, that an addition of three or four young gentlemen was made to their num- ber; most, if not all of them, of the legal profession. As soon as they became conveniently accommodated, the conversation was turned, by one of the latter, upon the eloquent harangue which had that day been displayed at the bar. It was replied by the other that he had wit- nessed, the same day, a degree of eloquence no doubt equal, but it was from the pulpit. Something like a sar- castic rejoinder was made as to the eloquence of the pulpit, and a warm and able altercation ensued, in which the merits of the Christian religion became the subject of dis- cussion. From six o'clock until eleven, the young cham- pions wielded the sword of argument, adducing with in- genuity and ability every thing that could be said pro and con. During this protracted period, the old gentleman listened with the meekness and modesty of a child, as if he were adding new information to the stores of his own mind ; or 316 ECLECTIC SERIES. perhaps be was observing, witb a pbilosophic eye, tbe fac- ulties of tbe youthful mind, and bow new energies are evolved by repeated action ; or perhaps, with patriotic emotion, be was reflecting upon tbe future destinies of bis country, and on tbe rising generation, upon whom those future destinies must devolve; or, most probably, Avith a sentiment of moral and religious feeling, be was collecting an argument wbicb no art Avould be "able to elude, and no force to resist." Our traveler remained a spectator, and took no part in what Avas said. At last one of tbe young men, remarking that it was impossible to combat witb long and established prejudices, wheeled around, and witb some familiarity exclaimed, "Well, my old gentleman, what think you of these tbings?" If, said tbe traveler, a streak of vivid lightning had at that moment crossed tbe room, their amazement could not have been greater than it was from what fol- lowed. The most eloquent and unanswerable appeal that be bad ever beard or read, was made for nearly an hour by the old gentleman. So perfect was bis recollection, that every argument urged against tbe Christian religion was met in the order in which it was advanced. Hume's sophistry on tbe subject of miracles, was, if possible, more perfectly answered than it had already been done by Campbell. And in the whole lecture tbere was so mucb simplicity and energy, prfthos and sublimity, that not another word Avas uttered. An attempt to describe it, said the traveler, would be an attempt to paint tbe sunbeams. It was now a matter of curiosity and inquiry who tbe old gentleman Avas. The traveler concluded that it was the preacher from Avbom tbe pulpit eloquence Avas beard; but no, it Avas John Mar- shall, the Chief-justice of tbe United States. ISToTEs. — David Hume (b. 171], d. 1776) was a celebrated Scotch historian and essayist. His most important work is SIXTH READER. 317 " The History of England." He was a skeptic in matters of religion, and was a ^^eculiarly subtle writer. George Campbell (b. 1719, d. 1796) was a distinguished Scotch minister. He wrote "A Dissertation on Miracles," ably answering Hume's "Essay on Miracles." John Marshall (b. 1755, d. 1835) was Chief-justice of the United States from 1801 until his death. He was an eminent jurist, and wrote a " Life of Washington," which made him famous as an author. L'XXXVII. THE BAREFOOT BOY. John Greenleaf "Whittier, 1807 , was born in Haverhill, Mas- sachusetts ; and, witli short intervals of absence, he has always resided in that vicinity, having moved to Amesbury in 1810. His parents were Friends, or " Quakers," and he has always held to the same faith. He spent his boyhood on a farm, occasionally writing verses for the papers even then. Two years of study in the academy seem to have given him all the special opportunity for education that he ever enjoyed. In 1829 he edited a newspaper in Boston, and the next year assumed a similar position in Hartford. For two years he was a member of the Massachu- setts legislature. win 1830 he edited an anti-slavery paper in Philadelphia, and was secretary of the American Anti-Slavery Society. Mr. Whittier has written extensively both in prose and verse. Dur- ing the last fifteen 5'ears he has i)ublished several volumes of poems, and has written frequently for the pages of the "Atlantic Monthly." An earnest opponent of slavery, some of his poems bearing on that subject are fiery and even bitter; but, in general, their sentiment is gentle, and often pathetic. As a poet, he takes rank among those most highly es- teemed by his countrymen. "Snow -Bound," published in 1805, is one of the longest and best of his poems. Several of his shorter pieces are marked by much smoothness and sweetness. Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill ; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; 318 ECLECTIC SERIES. From my heart I give tliee joy, — I was once a barefoot boy! Prince thou art, — the grown-up man Only is republican. Let the million-dollared ride! Barefoot, trudging at his side. Thou hast more than he can buy In the reach of ear and eye, — Outward sunshine, inward joy: Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! Oh for boyhood's painless play, Sleep that wakes in laughing day. Health that mocks the doctor's rules. Knowledge never learned of schools. Of the wild bee's morning chase, Of the wild flower's time and place. Flight of fowl and habitude Of the tenants of the wood ; « How the tortoise bears his shell. How the woodchuck digs his cell. And the ground-mole sinks his well; How the robin feeds her young, How the oriole's nest is hung; Where the whitest lilies blow. Where the freshest berries grow, Where the ground-nut trails its vine. Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; Of the black Avasp's cunning way Mason of his walls of clay. And the architectural plans Of gray hornet artisans ! — For, eschewing books and tasks. Nature answers all he asks ; Hand in hand with her he walks, SIXTH BEADER. 319 Face to face with her he talks, Part and parcel of her joy, — Blessings ou thee, barefoot boy! Oh for boyhood's time of June, Crowding years in one brief moon, When all things I heard or saw Me, their master, waited for. I was rich in flowers and trees, Humming-birds and honey-bees; For my sport the squirrel played. Plied the snouted mole his spade; For my taste the blackberry cone Purpled over hedge and stone ; Laughed the brook for my delight Through the day and through the night, Whispering at the garden wall, Talked with me from fall to fall; Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, Mine the walnut slopes beyond. Mine, on bending orchard trees. Apples of Hesperides! Still, as my horizon grew, Larger grew my riches too; All the world I saw or kncAV Seemed a complex Chinese toy, Fashioned for a barefoot boy! Oh for festal dainties spread, Like my bowl of milk and bread, — Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, On the door-stone, gray and rude! O'er me, like a regal tent. Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, 320 ECLECTIC SERIES. Looped in many a wind-swung fold; While for music came the play Of the pied frog's orchestra ; And to light the noisy choir, Lit the fly his lamp of fire. I was monarch: pomp and joy Waited on the barefoot boy! Cheerily, then, my little man, Live and laugh, as boyhood can: Though the flinty slopes be hard, Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, Every morn shall lead thee through Fresh baptisms of the dew ; Every evening from thy feet Shall the cool wind kiss the heat: All too soon these feet must hide . In the prison cells of pride, \ Lose the freedom of the sod, Like a colt's for work be shod. Made to tread the mills of toil, Up and down in ceaseless moil: Happy if their track be found Never on forbidden ground; Happy if they sink not in Quick and treacherous sands of sin. Ah ! that thou shouldst know thy joy Ere it passes, barefoot boy ! Note. — The Hesperides, in Grecian mythology, were four sisters (some traditions say three, and others, seven) who guarded the golden apples given to Juno as a wedding present. The locality of the garden of the Hesperides is a disputed point with mythologists. SIXTH READER. 321 LXXXVIII. THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. James Henry Leigh Hunt, 1784-1S59. Leigh Hunt, as he is com- monly called, was prominent before the public for fifty years as "a writer of essays, poems, plays, novels, and criticisms." He was born at Soutligate, Middlesex, England. His mother was an American lady. He began to write for the public at a very early age. In 1808, in connec- tion with his brother, he established "The Examiner," a newspaper ad- vocating liberal opinions in politics. For certain articles ofTensive to the government, the brothers were fined £.500 each and condemned to two years' imprisonment. Leigh fitted up his prison like a boudoir, re- ceiveil his friends here, and wrote several works during his confinement. Mr. Hunt was intimate witli Byron, Shelley, Moore, and Keats, and was a.ssociated with Byron and Shelley in tlie publication of a political and literary journal. His last years were peacefully devoted to literature, and in 1847 he received a pension from the government. King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobles filled the benches round, the ladies by their side, And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sighed: And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar, they rolled on one another : Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous smother ; The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air: Said Francis, then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there." 322 ECLECTIC SERIES. De Lorge's love o'erhearcl the king, — a beauteous, lively- dame. With smiling lips, and sharp, bright eyes, which always seemed the same ; She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be. He surely would do wondrous things to show his love for me; King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine; I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be mine." She dropped her glove to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled; He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild; The leap was quick, return was quick, he soon regained his place. Then thi-ew the glove, but not Avith love, right in the lady's face. "In faith," cried Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat ; "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that." NoTK. — King Francis. This is supposed to have been Francis I. of France (b. 1494, d. 1547). He was devoted to sports of this nature. LXXXIX. THE FOLLY OF INTOXICATION. lago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? Cassio. Ay, past all surgery. lago. Marry, heaven forbid ! Cos. Reputation, reputation, reputation! Oh, I have SIXTH READER. 323 lost my rei>utation ! I have lost the immortal part of my- self, and what remains is bestial. My reputation ! lago, my reputation! lago. As I am an honest man, I thought you had re- ceived some bodily wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an idle and most false imi^osition: oft got without merit, and lost without deserv- ing: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. What, man! there are ways to re- cover the general again. Sue to him again, and he 's yours. Cas. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander wit4i so slight, so drunken, and so in- discreet an officer. Drunk? and speak parrot? and squab- ble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with one's own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil ! lago. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he done to you? Cas. I know not. lago. Is't possible? Cas. I remember a mass of things, but nothing dis- tinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. Oh that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, revel, j)leasure, and ap- plause, transform ourselves into beasts ! lago. Why, but you are now W'ell enough: how came you thus recovered? Gas. It hath pleased the devil. Drunkenness, to give place to the devil, Wrath ; one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise myself. lago. Come, you are too severe a moraler. As the time, the place, and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had not befallen ; but since it is as it is, mend it for your own good. Gas. I will ask him for my place again: he shall tell 324 ECLECTIC SERIES. me I am a drunkard ! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them alL To be now a sensi- ble man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! Oh strange! — Every inordmate cup is unblessed, and the in- gredient is a devil ! lacjo. Come, come; good wine is a good familiar crea- ture, if it be well used ; exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think yon think I love you. Gas. I have well approved it, sir, — I, drunk! lago. You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. I'll tell you Avhat you shall do. Our general's wife is now the general. Confess yourself freely to her; im- portune her help to put you in your place again. She is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested. This broken joint between you and her hus- band, entreat her to splinter; and, my fortunes against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger than it was before. Gas. You advise me well. lacjo. I protest in the sincerity of love and honest kind- ness. Gas. I think it freely, and betimes in the morning, I will beseech the virtuous Desdemona to imdertake for me: I am desperate of my f )rtunes if they check me here. logo. You are in the right. Good-night, lieutenant, I must to the watch. Cos. Good-night, honest lago. Shakes'peare. — Othello, Ad ii, Scene Hi. Notes. — lago is represented as a crafty, unscrupulous vil- lain. He applies for the position of lieutenant under Othello, but the latter has already appointed Cassio — who is honest, but of a weak character — to that position; he, however, makes lago his ensign. Then lago, to revenge himself for SIXTH READER. 325 this and other fancied wrongs, enters ujion a systematic course of villainy, part of which is to bring about the intoxication of Cassio, and his consequent discharge from the lieutenancy. The Hydra was a fabled monster of Grecian mythology, having nine heads, one of which was immortal. Desdemona was the wife of Othello. XC. STARVED ROCK. Francis Parkman, 182.3 , the son of a clergyman of the .same name, was born in Bo.ston, and graduated at Harvard University in 1844. Mr. Parkman has spent more than twenty years in a careful .study of the earlj- French explorations and settlements in America ; and he has published the fruits of his labor in six large volumes. Although troubled with an aflfection of the eyes, which sometimes wholly pre- vented reading or writing, his work has been most carefully and success- fully done. His narratives are written in a clear and animated style, and his volumes are a rich contribution to American history. The cliff called "Starved Rock," now pointed out to travelers as the chief natural curiositj^ of the region, rises, steep on three sides as a castle wall, to the height of a hundred and twenty-five feet above the river. In front, it overhangs the water that washes its base; its western brow looks dow^n on the tops of the forest trees below; and on the east lies a wide gorge, or ravine, choked with the mingled foliage of oaks, walnuts, and elms; while in its rocky depths a little brook creeps down to mingle with the river. From the rugged trunk of the stunted cedar that leans forward from the brink, you may drop a plummet into the river below, where the cat-fish and the turtles may plainly be seen gliding over the wrinkled sands of the clear and shallow current. The cliff is accessible only from the south, where a man may climb up, not without difficulty, by a steep and narrow passage. The top is about an acre in extent. 326 ECLECTIC SERIES. Here, in the month of December, 1682, La Salle and Tonty began to entrench themselves. They cut away the forest that crowned the rock, built store-houses and dwell- ings of its remains, dragged timber up the rugged path- Avay, and encircled the summit with a palisade. Thus the winter was passed, and meanwhile the work of negotiation Avent prosperously on. The miuds of the Indians had been already prepared. In La Salle they saw their champion against the Iroquois, the standing terror of all this region. They gathered around his stronghold like the timorous peasantry of the Middle Ages around the rock-built castle of their feudal lord. From the wooden ramparts of St. Louis, — for so he named his fort, — high and inaccessible as an eagle's nest, a strange scene lay before his eye. The broad, flat valley of the Illinois was spread beneath him like a map, bounded in the distance by its low Avail of wooded hills. The river wound at his feet in devious channels among islands bordered with lofty trees; then, far on the left, flowed calmly westAvard through the vast meadoAvs, till its glim- mering blue ribbon Avas lost in hazy distance. There had been a time, and that not remote, Avhen these fair meadows Avere a waste of death and desolation, scathed Avith fire, and strewn Avith the ghastly relics of an Iroquois victory. Now, all Avas changed. La Salle looked doAvn from his rock on a concourse of wuld human life. Lodges of bark and rushes, or cabins of logs, were clustered on the open plain, or along the edges of the bordering forests. SquaAVS labored, warriors lounged in the sun, naked chil- dren Avhooped and gamboled on the grass. Beyond the river, a mile and a half on the left, the banks were studded once more Avith the lodges of the Illi- nois, AA^ho, to the number of six thousand, had returned, since their defeat, to this their favorite dAvelling-place. Scattered along the valley, among the adjacent hills, or over the neighboring prairie, Avere the cantonments of a SIXTH READER. 327 Iialf-score of other tribes, and fragments of tribes, gathered under the protecting segis of the French. Notes. — The cuvious elevation called Starved Rock is on the south side of Illinois River, between La kSalle and Ottawa. There is a legend according to which it is said that, about one hundred years ago, a party of Illinois Indians took refuge here from the Pottawatomies ; their besiegers, however, confined them so closely that the whole party perished of starvation, or, as some say, of thirst. From this circumstance the rock takes its name. La Salle (b. 1643, d. 1687) was a celebrated French ex- plorer and fur trader. He established many forts throughout the Mississii:)pi Valley, — among them. Fort St. Louis, in 1683. Tonty was an Italian, who formerly served in both the French army and navy, and afterwards joined La Salle in his explorations. XCI. PRINCE HENRY AND FALSTAPP. Prince Henry and Poms, in a back room, in a tavern. Enter Falstaff, Gadshell, Bardolph, and Peto. Poins. AVelcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Falstaff. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a venge- ance too! marry, and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether stocks, and mend them, and foot them, too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant? (He drinks, and then continues.) You rogue, here's lime in this sack, too; there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it. A villainous coward ! Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt: if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten 328 ECLECTIC SERIES. herring. There live not three good men unhanged, in England; and one of them is fat and grows old; a bad world, I say! I would I were a weaver; I could sing psalms, or any thing. A plague of all cowards, I say still. Prince Henry. How now, wool-sack? What mutter you? Fed. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You, Prince of Wales! P. Henry. Why, you base-born dog! What's the matter ? Fal. Are you not a coward? Answer me to that; and Poins there? Poins. Ye fat braggart, an ye call me coward, I'll stab thee. Fal. I call thee coward? I'll see thee gibbeted ere I call thee coward : but I would give a thousand pounds I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back : call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me. Give me a cup of sack. I am a rogue, if I have drunk to-day. P. Hem-y. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunkest last. Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I. {He drinks.) P. Henry. What's the matter? Fal. What's the matter! There be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pounds this morning. P. Henry. Where is it, Jack? where is it? Fal. Where is it? Taken from us it is; a hundred upon poor four of us. P. Henry. What! a hundred, man? Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with a SIXTH READER. 329 dozen of them two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four, through the hose; my buckler cut through and through ; my sword hacked like a hand-saw ; look here ! (shows his sword.) I never dealt better since I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cowards! Let them speak (pointing to Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto) ; if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains and the sons of darkness. P. Henry. Speak, sirs; how was it? Gadshill. We four set upon some dozen — Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord. Gad. And bound them. Peto. No, no, they were not bound. Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them ; or I am a Jew, else — an Ebrew Jew. Gad. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us — Fal. And unbound the rest; and then come in the other. P. Henry. What ! fought ye with them all ? Fal. All? I know not what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish : if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-legged creature. P. Henry. Pray heaven, you have not murdered some of them. Fal. Nay, that's past praying for; for I have peppered two of them ; two I am sure I have paid ; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, and call me a horse. Thou knowest my old ward; {he dratvs his sword and stamls if aboid to fight) here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me — P. Henry. What! four? Thou saidst but two even now. 6.— 28. 330 ECLECTIC SEBIES. Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four. Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me. I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus. P. Hehry. Seven? Why, there were but four, even now. Fal. In buckram? Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. P. Hairy. Prithee, let him alone; we shall have more anon. Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal? P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee, too. Jack. Fal. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram, that I told thee of — P. Henry. So, two more already. Fal. Their points being broken, began to give me ground ; but I followed me close, came in foot and hand ; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid. P. Henry. 0, monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two! Fal. But three knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back, and let drive at me ; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. P. Henry. These lies are like the father of them; gross as a mountain, open, 2)al2:)ablc. AVhy, thou clay-brained, nott-pated fool ; thou greasy tallow-keech — Fal. What ! Art thou mad ! Art thou mad ? Is not the truth the truth? P. Henry. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand ? Come, tell us your reason ; what sayest thou to this? Poins. Come, your reason, Jack, your reason. Fal. What, upon compulsion ? No, were I at the strap- SIXTH READER. 331 pado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on conij^ulsion! If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries, I would give no man a reason on compulsion, I. P. Henry. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin: this san- guine coward, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh — Fal. Away! you starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you stock-fish! Oh for breath to utter what is like thee! — you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you— P. Henry. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again; and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this. Poins. Mark, Jack, P. Henry. We two saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down. Then did Ave two set on you four, and with a word outfaced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house. — And, Falstaff, you carried yourself away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard a calf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy snord as thou hast done, and then say it -^^as in fight ! What trick, what device, what start- ing-hole, canst thou now find out to hide thee from this open and apparent sh^me? Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack. What trick hast thou now ? Fal. Why, I knew ye as well as he that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters : was it for me to kill the heir- apparent? Should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware instinct; the lion Avill not touch the true prince; instinct is a great matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I for 332 ECLECTIC SERIES. a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to the doors. Watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold; all the titles of good-fellowship come to you! What! shall we be merry? Shall we have a play extempore f P. Henry. Content; and the argument shall be thy running away. Fat. Ah, no more of that, Hal, an thou lovest me! Shakespeare. — Henry IV, Part I, Act it, Scene iv. Notes. — The lime is a fruit allied to the lemon, hut smaller, and more intensely sour. The strappado was an instrument of torture by which the victim's limbs were wrenched out of joint and broken. Hercules is a hero of fabulous history, remarkable for his great strength and wonderful achievements. XCII. STUDIES. Sir Francis Bacon, 1561-1626. This eminent man was the youngest son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord-keeper of the seal in the early part of Elizabeth's reign, and Anne Bacon, one of the most learned \fomen of the time, daughter of Sir Anthony C'ooke. He was born in London, and educated at Cambridge. He was a laborious and successful student, but even in liis boyhood conceived a great distrust of the methods of study pursued at the seats of learning, — methods whicli he exerted his great powers to correct in his maturer years. Much of his life was spent in tlie practice of law, in the discharge of the duties of high office, and as a member of Parliament; but, to the end of life, he busied himself with pliilosophical pursuits, and he will be known to posterity chiefly for his deep and clear writings on these subjects. His constant direction in pliilosopliy is to break away froia assumption and tradition, and to be led only by sound induction based on a knowledge of observed phe- nomeua. His "Novum Organum " and "Advancement of Learning" embody his ideas on philosophy and the true methods of seeking knowledge. Bacon rose to no very great distinction during the reign of Elizabeth; but, under James I, he was promoted to positions of great honor and. SIXTH HEADER. 333 influence. In 1618 he was made Baron of ^'erula^^ : and, three years later, he was made Visfount of St. Albans. During much of his life, Bacon was in pocuniarj- straits, wliioli was doubtless one reason of his downfall; for, in 1G21, he was accused of taking bril)es, a charge to which he pleaded guiltj'. His disgrace followed, and lie iiassed the last years of his life in retirement. Among the distinguislied names in Englisli lit- erature, none stands higher in his department than that of Francis Bacon. Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness, and retiring; for ornament, is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business; for expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of the particulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshaling of affairs, come best from those that are learned. To spend too much time in studies, is sloth ; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation ; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a scholar; they perfect nature and are perfected by experience — for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by study; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experi- ence. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them, for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments, and the meaner sort of books; else distilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy things. 334 ECLECTIC SERIES. Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man; and, therefore, if a man write little, lie had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had need have a i)resent wit; and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make men wise; poets, witty; the mathematics, subtle; natural johilosophy, deep; moral philosojjhy, grave; logic and rhetoric, able to contend. XCIII. SURRENDER OP GRANADA. Sir Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, 1806-1873, was born in Norfolk County, England. His father died wlien he was young; his motlier was a woman of strong literary tastes, and did much to form her son's mind. In 1844, by royal license, lie took the surname of Lytton from his mother's family. Bulwer graduated at Cambridge. He began to publish in 1826, and his novels and plays followed rapidly. "Pelliam," "The Caxtons," "My Novel," "What will he do with it?" and "Kenelni Chillingly" are among the best known of his numerous novels; and "The Lady of Lyons" and "Richelieu" are his most successful plays. His novels are extensively read on the continent, and have been trans- lated into most of the languages spoken there. " Leila, or the Siege of Granada," from whicli this selection is adapted, was published in 1840. Day dawned upon Granada, and the beams of the winter sun, smiling away the clouds of the past night, played cheerily on the murmuring waves of the Xenil and the Darro. Alone, upon a balcony commanding a view of the beautiful landscape, stood Boabdil, the last of the Moorish kings. He had sought to bring to his aid all the lessons of the philosophy he had cultivated. "What are we," thought the musing prince, "that we should fill the world with ourselves — we kings? Earth re- sounds with the crash of my falling throne; on the ear of races unborn the echo will live prolonged. But what have I lost ? Nothing that Avas necessary to my happiness, my repose: nothing save the source of all my wretchedness, the Marah of my life ! Shall I less enjoy heaven and earth, SIXTH READER. 335 or thought or action, or roan's more material luxuries of food or sleep — the common and the cheap desires of all? Arouse thee, then, O heart within me! Many and deep emotions of sorrow or of joy are yet left to break the monotony of existence. . . . But it is time to depart." So saying, he descended to the court, flung himself on his barb, and, with a small and saddened train, passed through the gate which we yet survey, by a blackened and crum- bling tower, overgrown with vines and ivy ; thence, amidst gardens now apj^ertaining to the convent of the victor faith, "he took his mournful and unwitnessed way. When he came to the middle of the hill that rises above those gardens, the steel of the Spanish armor gleamed upon him, as the detachment sent to occupy the palace marched over the summit in steady order and profound silence. At the head of this van-guard, rode, upon a snow- white palfrey, the Bishop of Avila, followed by a long train of barefooted monks. They halted as Boabdil ap- proached, and the grave bishop saluted him with the air of one who addresses an infidel and inferior. With the quick sense of dignity common to the great, and yet more to the fallen, Boabdil felt, but resented not, the pride of the ec- clesiastic. "Go, Christian," said he, mildly, "the gates of the Alhambra are open, and Allah has bestowed the palace and the city upon your king; may his virtues atone the faults of Boabdil ! " So saying", and waiting no answer, he rode on without looking to the right or the left. The Spaniards also pursued their way. The sun had fairly risen above the mountains, when Boabdil and his train beheld, from the eminence on which they were, the whole armament of Spain; and at the same moment, louder than the tramp of horse or the clash of arms, was heard distinctly the solemn chant of Te Deum, which preceded the blaze of the unfurled and lofty stand- ards. Boabdil, himself still silent, heard the groans and exclamations of his train; he turned to cheer or chide 336 ECLECTIC SERIES. them, and then saw, from his own watch-tower, with the sun shining full upon its pure and dazzling surface, the silver cross of Spain. His Alhambra was already in the hands of the foe ; while beside that badge of the holy war waved the gay and flaunting flag of St. lago, the canon- ized Mars of the chivalry of Spain. At that sight the King's voice died within him; he gave the rein to his barb, impatient to close the fatal ceremonial, and did not slacken his speed till almost within bowshot of the first ranks of the army. Never had Christian war assumed a more splendid and imposing aspect. Far as the eye could reach, extended the glittering and gorgeous lines of that goodly power, brist- ling with sun-lit spears and blazoned banners; while beside, murmured, and glowed, and danced, the silver and laugh- ing Xenil, careless what lord should possess, for his little day, the banks that bloomed by its everlasting course. By a small mosque halted the flower of the army. Surrounded by the arch-priests of that mighty hierarchy, the peers and princes of a court that rivaled the Rolands, of Charlemagne, was seen the kingly form of Ferdinand himself, with Isabel at his right hand, and the high-born dames of Spain, re- lieving, with their gay colors and sparkling gems, the sterner splendor of the crested helmet and polished mail. Within sight of the royal group, Boabdil halted, composed his aspect so as best to conceal his soiU, and, a little in advance of his scanty train, but never in mien and majesty more a king, the son of Abdallah met his haughty con- queror. At the sight of his princely countenance and golden hair, his comely and commanding beauty, made more touching by youth, a thrill of compassionate admiration ran through that assembly of the brave and fair. Ferdinand and Isabel slowly advanced to meet their late rival, — their new sub- ject; and, as Boabdil would have dismounted, the Spanish king placed his hand upon his shoulder. "Brother and SIXTH HEADER. 337 prince," said he, "forget thy sorrows; and may our friend- ship hereafter console thee for reverses, against which thou hast contended as a hero and a king — resisting man, but resigned at length to God." Boabdil did not affect to return this bitter but unin- tentional mockery of compliment. He bowed his head, and remained a moment silent; then motioning to his train, four of his officers approached, and, kneeling beside Ferdinand, proffered to him, upon a silver buckler, the keys of the city. "O king!" then said Boabdil, "accept the keys of the last hold which has resisted the arms of Spain! The empire of the JNIoslem is no more. Thine are the city and the people of Granada ; yielding to thy prow- ess, they yet confide in thy mercy." "They do well," said the king; "our promises shall not be broken. But since we know the gallantry of Moorish cavaliers, not to us, but to gentler hands, shall the keys of Granada be sur- rendered." Thus saying, Ferdinand gave the keys to Isabel, who would have addressed some soothing flatteries to Boabdil, but the emotion and excitement were too much for her com- passionate heart, heroine and queen though she was ; and when she lifted her eyes upon the calm and pale features of the fallen monarch, the tears gushed fi-om them irresisti- bly, and her voice died in murmurs. A faint flush over- spread the features of Boabdil, and there was a momentary pause of embarrassment, which the Moor was the first to break. "Fair queen," said he, with mournful and pathetic dig- nity, "thou canst read the heart that thy generous sym- pathy touches and subdues; this is thy last, nor least glorious conquest. But I detain ye ; let not my aspect cloud your triumph. Sufler me to say farewell." "Fare- well, my brother," replied Ferdinand, "and may fair fortune go with you ! Forget the past ! " Boabdil smiled bitterly, saluted the royal pair with profound and silent 6.-29. 338 ECLECTIC SERIES. reverence, and rode slowly on, leaving the army below as he ascended the path that led to his new principality beyond the Alpuxarras. As the trees snatched the Moor- ish cavalcade from the view of the king, Ferdinand ordered the army to recommence its march; and trumpet and cym- bal presently sent their music to the ear of the Moslems. Boabdil spurred on at full speed, till his panting charger halted at the little village where his mother, his slaves, and his faithful wife, Amine — sent on before;— awaited him. Joining these, he proceeded without delay upon his melan- choly path. They ascended that eminence which is the pass into the Alpuxarras. From its height, the vale, the rivers, the spires, and the towers of Granada broke glo- riously upon the view of the little band. They halted mechanically and abruptly ; every eye was turned to the beloved scene. The proud shame of baffled warriors, the tender memories of home, of childhood, of father-land, swelled every heart, and gushed from every eye. Suddenly the distant boom of artillery broke from the citadel, and rolled along the sun-lit valley and crystal river. A universal wail burst from the exiles; it smote, — it over- powered the heart of the ill-starred king, in vain seeking to wrap himself in Eastern pride or stoical philosophy. The tears gushed from his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands. The band wound slowly on through the solitary defiles ; and that place where the king wept is still called The Last Sigh of the Moor. Notes. — Granada was the capital of an ancient Moorish kingdom of the same name, in the south-eastern part of Spain. The Darro River flows through it, emptying into the Xenil (or Jenil) just outside the city walls. King Ferdinand of Spain drove out the Moors, and captured the city in 1492. Marah. See Exodus xv. 23. Avila is an episcopal city in Spain, capital of a province of the same name. SIXTH BE A DEB. 339 The Te Deura is an ancient Christian hymn, composed by St. Ambrose; it is so called from the first Latin words, " Te Deum laudaraus," We praise thee, God. Mars, in mythology, the god of war. The Alhambra is the ancient palace of the Moorish kings, at Granada. Allah is the Mohammedan name for the Supreme Being. Roland, was a nephew of Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, emperor of the West and king of France. He was one of the mo.st ftimous knights of the chivalric romances. The Alp\ixarras is a mountainous region in the old prov- ince of Granada, where the Moors were allowed to remain some time after their subjugation by Ferdinand. XCIV. HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY. To be, or not to be; that is the question: — Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. And by opjjosing end them? To die, — to sleep, — No more: and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. To die, — to sleep: — To sleep! perchance to dream: — ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time. The oppressor's WTong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 340 ECLECTIC SEEIES. When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, — The undiscovered country from whose bourn No traveler returns, — puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus couscience doth make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. Shakespeare. — Hamlet, Act Hi, Scene i. XCV. GINEVRA. Samuel Rogers, 1763-18.S5, was the son of a Lotadon banker, and, in company with liis father, followed tlie banking business for some years. He began to write at an early age, and publislied his "Pleasures of Memory," perliaps his most famous M'ork, in 1792. The next year his fatlier died, leaving liim an ample fortune. He now retired from busi- ness and established himself in an elegant house in St. James's Place. This house was a place of resort for literary men during fifty years. In 1822 he published his longest poem, " Italy," after which he wrote but little. He wrote with care, spending, as he said, nine years on the " Pleasures of Memory," and sixteen on " Italy." " His writings are remarkable for elegance of diction, purity of taste, and beauty of sen- timent." It is said that he was very agreeable in conversation and manners, and benevolent in his disposition; but he was addicted to ill- nature and satire in some of his criticisms. If thou shouldst ever come by choice or chance To Modena, — where still religiously Among her ancient trophies, is preserved Bologna's bucket (in its chain it hangs SIXTH READER. 341 Within that reverend tower, the Guirlandiue), — Stop at a palace near the Reggio-gate, Dwelt in of old hy one of the Orsini. Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace, And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses, Will long detain thee ; through their arched walks, Dim at noon-day, discovering many a glimpse Of knights and dames such as in old romance, And lovers such as in heroic song, — Perhaps the two, for groves were their delight, That in the si^ring-time, as alone they sate, Venturing together on a tale of love. Read only j)art that day. — A summer-sun Sets ere one-half is seen ; but, ere thou go, Enter the house — prithee, forget it not — And look awhile upon a picture there. 'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth, The very last of that illustrious race. Done by Zampieri^ — but by whom I care not. He who observes it, ere he passes on, Gazes his fill, and comes and conies again, That he niay call it up when far away. She sits, inclining forward as to speak, Her lijDS half-oijen, and her finger up. As though she said, "Beware!" her vest of gold, Broidered with flow^ers, and clasped from head to foot, An emerald stone in every golden clasji; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart, — It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody ! 342 ECLECTIC SERIES. Alone it hangs Over a raoldering heir-loom, its companion, An oaken chest, half-eaten by the worm, But richly carved by Antony of^Trent With scripture stories from the life of Christ ; A chest that came from Venice, and had held The ducal robes of some old ancestors — That, by the way, it may be true or false — But don't forget the picture; and thou wilt not. When thou hast heard the tale they told me there. She Avas an only child; from infancy The joy, the pride, of an indulgent sire; The young Ginevra was his all in life. Still as she grew, forever in his sight; And in her fifteenth year became a bride. Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria, Her playmate from her birth, and her first love. Just as she looks there in her bridal dress, She was all gentleness, all gayety. Her pranks the favorite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day, the hour ; Now, frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time. The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum: And, in the luster of her youth, she gave Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco. Great was the joy; but at the bridal feast. When all sate down, the bride was wanting there. Nor was she to be found ! Her father cried, "'Tis but to make a trial of our love!" And filled his glass to all ; but his hand shook. And soon from guest to guest the panic spread. 'Twas but that instant she had left Francesco, SIXTH READER. 343 Laughing and looking hack and flying still, Her ivory tootli imprinted on his finger. But now, alas! she was not to be found; Nor from that hour could any thing be guessed, But that she was not ! — Weary of his life, Francesco flew to Venice, and forthwith Flung it away in battle with the Turk. Orsini lived ; and long was to be seen An old man wandering as in quest of something, Something he could not find — he knew not what. When he was gone, the bouse remained a while Silent and tenantless — then went to strangers. Full fifty years were past, and all forgot, When on an idle day, a day of seai'ch 'Mid the old lumber in the gallery, That moldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, "Why not remove it from its lurking-place?" 'T was done as soon as said ; but on the way It burst, it fell; and lo! a skeleton. With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone, A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold. All else had perished, save a nuptial ring. And a small seal, her mother's legacy. Engraven with a name, the name of both, "Ginevra." There then had she found a grave! Within that chest had she concealed herself, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy ; When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever! Notes. — The above selection is part of the poem, "Italy." Of the story Rogers says, " This story is, I believe, founded on fact; though the time and place are uncertain. Many old houses in England lay claim to it." 344 ECLECTIC SERIES. Modena is the cajjital of a province of the same name in northern Italy. Bologna's bucket. This is affirmed to be the very bucket which Tassoni, an Italian j^oet, has celebrated in his mock he- roics as the cause of a war between Bologna and Modena. Reggio is a city about sixteen miles north-west of Modena. The Orsini. A famous Italian family in the Middle Ages. Zampieri, Domenichino (b. 1581, d. 1641), was one of the most celebrated of the Italian painters. XCVI. INVENTIONS AND DISCOVERIES. John Caldwell Calhoun, 1782-1.S.'>0. This great statesman, and cham- pion of southern rights and opinions, was born in Abbeville District, South Carolina. In the line of botli parents, he was of Irish Presby- terian descent. In youth he was very studious, aud made the best use of sucli opportunities for education as tlie frontier settlement aflForded. He graduated at Yale College in 1804, and studied law at Litchfield, Con- necticut. In 1808 he was elected to the Legislature of South Carolina; and, three years later, he was chosen to the National House of Repre- sentatives. During the six years that he remained in the House, he took an active and prominent part in tlie .stirring event.s of the time. In 1817 he was appointed Secretary of War, and held the office seven years. From 1825 to 1832 he was Vice-president of the United States. He then resigned this office, and took his seat as senator from South Carolina. In 1844 President Tyler called him to his Cabinet as Secret arj'^ of State; and, in 1845, he returned to the Senate, where he remained till his death. During all his public life Mr. Calhoun was active and out-spoken. His earnestness and logical force commanded the respect of those who diflFered most widely from him in opinion. He took the most advanced ground in favor of "State Rights," and defended slavery as neither morally nor polilically wrong. His foes generally conceded his honesty, and respected his ability ; while his friends regarded him as little less than an oracle. In private life Mr. Calhoun was highly esteemed and respected. His home was at "Fort Hill," in tlie north-western district of South Caro- lina; and liere he spent all the time he could spare from his public duties, in the enjoyments of domestic life aud in cultivating his planta- tion. In his home he was remarkable for kindness, cheerfulness, and sociability. To comprehend more fully the force and bearing of public opinion, and to form a just estimate of the changes to which, aided by the press, it will probably lead, polit- ically and socially, it will be necessary to consider it in ' I SIXTH READER. 345 connection with the causes that have given it an influence so great as to entitle it to be regarded as a new political element. They will, upon investigation, be found in the many discoveries and inventions made in the last few centuries. All these have led to important results. Through the invention of the mariner's compass, the globe has been cir- cumnavigated and explored ; and all who inhabit it, Avith but few exceptions, are brought within the sphere of an all- pervading commerce, which is daily diffusing over its sur- face the light and blessings of civilization. Through that of the art of printing, the fruits of obser- vation and reflection, of discoveries and inventions, with all the accumulated stores of previously acquired knowl- edge, are preserved and widely diffused. The application of gunpowder to the art of Avar has forever settled the long conflict for ascendency between civilization and barbarism, in favor of the former, and thereby guarantied that, what- ever knowledge is now accumulated, or may hereafter be added, shall never again be lost. The numerous discoveries and inventions, chemical and mechanical, and the application of steam to machinery, have increased many fold the productive powers of labor and capital, and have thereby greatly increased the num- ber who may devote themselves to study and improvement, and the amount of means necessary for commercial ex- changes, especially between the more and the less advanced and civilized portions of the globe, to the great advantage of both, but particularly of the latter. The application of steam to the purjioses of travel and transportation, by land and water, has vastly increased the facility, cheapness, and rapidity of both: diff'using, Avith them, information and intelligence almost as quickly and as freely as if borne by the Avinds; while the electrical wires outstrip them in velocity, rivaling in rapidity even thought itself. 346 ECLECTIC SERIES. The joint effect of all this has been a great increase and diffusion of knowledge ; and, with this, an impulse to progress and civilization heretofore unexampled in the his- tory of the world, accompanied by a mental energy and activity unprecedented. To all these causes, public opinion, and its organ, the press, owe their origin and great influence. Already they have attained a force in the more civilized portions of the globe sufficient to be felt by all governments, even the most absolute and despotic. But, as great as they now are, they have, as yet, attained nothing like their maxi- mum force. It is probable that not one of the causes which have contributed to their formation and influence, has yet produced its full effect; while several of the most pow^erful have just begun to operate; and many others, probably of equal or even greater force, yet remain to be brought to light. When the causes now in operation have jiroduced their full effect, and inventions and discoveries shall have been exhausted — if that may ever be — they will give a force to public opinion, and cause changes, political and social, difficult to be anticipated. What will be their final bear- ing, time only can decide with any certainty. That they will, however, greatly improve the condition of man ultimately, it would be imjjious to doubt; it would be to suppose that the all-Avise and beneficent Being, the Creator of all, had so constituted man as that the emj^loy- ment of the high intellectual faculties with which He has been pleased to endow^ him, in order that he might develop the laws that control the great agents of the material world, and make them subservient to his use, would prove to hira the cause of permanent evil, and not of permanent good. Note. — This selection is an extract from " A Disquisition on Government." Mr. Calhoun expected to revise his manuscript before it was printed, but death interrupted his plans. SIXTH HEADER. 347 XCVII. ENOCH ARDEN AT THE WINDOW. Alfred Tennyson, 1809 , was born in Somerby, Lincolnshire, En- gland; his father wsus a clergyman noted for his energy and physical stature. Alfred, with his two older lirothers, graduated at Trinity College, Cambridge. His first volume of poems appeared in 1830; it made little impression, and was severely treated by tlie critics. On the publi- cation of his tiiird series, in 1812, his poetic genius began to receive general recognition. On tlie death of Wordswortli he was made poet laureate, and for several years has been regarded as the foremost living poet of England. " In Memoriam," written in memory of his friend Arthur Hallam, appeared in 1850 ; the " Idyls of the King," in 1859 ; and " Enoch Arden," a touching story in verse, from which the following selection is taken, was published in 1864. For several years, the poet's residence has been ou the Isle of Wight. But Enoch yearned to see her face again; "If I might look on her sweet face again And know that she is ha^^py." So the thought Haunted and harassed him, and drove him forth, At evening when the dull November day Was growing duller twilight, to the hill. . There he sat down gazing on all below; There did a thousand memories roll upon him, Unspeakable for sadness. By and by The ruddy square of comfortable light. Far-blazing from the rear of Philip's house, Allured him, as the beacon-blaze allures The bird of passage, till he madly strikes Against it, and beats out his weary life. For Philip's dwelling fronted on the street. The latest house to landward ; but behind, With one small gate that opened on the waste. Flourished a little garden, square and walled: And in it throve an ancient evergreen, A yew-tree, and all round it ran a walk Of shingle, and a walk divided it : But Enoch shunned the middle walk, and stole 348 ECLECTIC SERIES. Up by the wall, behind the yew; and thence That which he better might have shunned, if griefs Like his have worse or better, Enoch saw. For cups and silver on the burnished board Sparkled and shone; so genial was the hearth: And on the right hand of the hearth he saw Philip, the slighted suitor of old times, Stout, rosy, with his babe across his knees; And o'er her second father stooped a girl, A later but a loftier Annie Lee, Fair-haired and tall, and from her lifted hand Dangled a length of ribbon and a ring To tempt the babe, who reared his creasy arms, Caught at and ever missed it, and they laughed: And on the left hand of the hearth he saw The mother glancing often toward her babe. But turning now and then to sj^eak with him, Her son, who stood beside her tall and strong, And saying that which pleased him, for he smiled. Now when the dead man come to life beheld His wife, his wife no more, and saw the babe, Hers, yet not his, upon the father's knee. And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness. And his own children tall and beautiful. And him, that other, reigning in his place. Lord of his rights and of his children's love, — Then he, tho' Miriam Lane had told him all. Because things seen are mightier than things heard, Staggered and shook, holding the branch, and feared To send abroad a shrill and terrible cry. Which in one moment, like the blast of doom. Would shatter all the happiness of the hearth. SIXTH READER. 349 He, therefore, turning softly like a thief, Lest the harsh shingle should grate underfoot, And feeling all along the garden-wall. Lest he should swoon and tumble and be found. Crept to the gate, and opened it, and closed, As lightly as a sick man's chamber-door, Behind him, and came out upon the waste. And there he would have knelt but that his knees Were feeble, so that falling prone he dug His fingers into the wet earth, and prayed. "Too hard to bear! why did they take me thence? O God Almighty, blessed Saviour, Thou That did'st uphold me on my lonely isle, Uphold me. Father, in my loneliness A little longer! aid me, give me strength Not to tell her, never to let her know. Help me not to break in upon her peace. My children too! must I not speak to these? They know me not. I should betray myself. Never! — no father's kiss for me! — the girl So like her mother, and the boy, my son!" There speech and thought and nature failed a little, And he lay tranced ; but when he rose and paced Back toward his solitary home again. All down the long and narrow street he went Beating it in upon his weary brain, As tho' it were the burden of a song, " Not to tell her, never to let her know." Note. — Enoch Arden had been wrecked on an uninhabited island, and was supposed to be dead. After many years he was rescued, and returned home, where he found his wife happily married a second time. For her happiness, he kej^t his ex- istence a secret, but soon died of a broken heart. 350 ECLECTIC SERIES. XCVIII. LOCHINVAR. Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of tlie west, Through all the Avide Border his steed was the best; And save his good broadsword, he weapon had none, He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone ! So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war. There never was knight like the young Lochinvar I He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone, He swam the Eske River where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late: For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar ! So boldly he entered the Netherby hall. Among brides-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all : Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword — For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word — "Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?" "I long w^ooed your daughter, my suit you denied; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up, He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 'sixth reader. 351 With a smile on lier lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere lier mother could bar, "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. So stately his form, and so lovely her face, That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; While her mother did fret, and her father did fume. And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "'Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear. When they reached the hall door, and the charger stood near, So light to the croup the fair lady he swung. So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur: They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Loch- invar. There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; Forsters, Fenwicks, and IVIusgraves, they rode and they ran; There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love, and so dauntless in Avar, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? — Walter Scott. Notes. — The above selection is a song taken from Scott's poem of "Marmion." It is in a slight degree founded on a ballad called " Katliarine Janfarie," to be found in the " Min- strelsy of the Scottish Border." The Sol"way Frith, on the soutli-west coast of Scotland, is remarkalile for its high spring-tides. Bonnet is the ordinary name in Scotland for a man's cap. 352 ECLECTIC SERIES. XCIX. SPEECH ON THE TRIAL OP A MURDERER. Against the prisoner at the bar, as an individual, I can not have the slightest prejudice. I would not do him the smallest injury or injustice. But I do not affect to be in- different to the discovery and the punishment of this deep guilt. I cheerfully share in the opprobrium, how much soever it may be, which is cast on those who feel and manifest an anxious concern that all who had a part in planning, or a hand in executing this deed of midnight assassination, may be brought to answer for their enormous crime at the bar of jiublic justice. This is a most extraordinary case. In some respects it has hardly a precedent anywhere; certainly none in our New England history. This bloody drama exhibited no suddenly excited, ungovernable rage. The actors in it were not surprised by any lion-like temptation springing upon their virtue, and overcoming it before resistance could begin. Nor did they do the deed to glut savage venge- ance, or satiate long-settled and deadly hate. It was a cool, calculating, money-making murder. It was all " hire and salary, not revenge." It was the weighing of money against life ; the counting out of- so many pieces of silver against so many ounces of blood. An aged man, without an enemy in the world, in his own house, and in his own bed, is made the victim of a butcherly murder for mere joay. Truly, here is a new lesson for painters and poets. Whoever shall hereafter draAV the portrait of murder, if he will show it as it has been exhibited in an example, where such example was last to have been looked for, in the very bosom of our New England society, let him not give it the grim visage of Moloch, the brow knitted by r^enge, the face black with settled hate, and the blood-shot eye emitting livid fires of malice. Let him draw, rather, a decorous, smooth- SIXTH READER. 353 faced, bloodless demon; a picture in repose, rather than in action ; not so much an example of human nature in its depravity, and in its paroxysms of crime, as an infernal nature, a fiend in the ordinary display and development of his character. The deed was executed with a degree of self-possession and steadiness equtri to the wickedness with which it was planned. The circumstances, now clearly in evidence, spread out the whole scene before us. Deep sleep had fallen on the destined victim, and on all beneath his roof. A healthful old man, to whom sleep was sweet, the first sound slumbers of the night held him in their soft but strong embrace. The assassin enters through the window, already prepared, into an unoccupied apartment. With noiseless foot he paces the lonely hall, half-lighted by the moon ; he winds up the ascent of the stairs, and reaches the door of the chamber. Of this, he moves the lock by soft and continued pressure till it turns on its hinges without noise; and he enters, and beholds his victim before him. The room was uncommonly open to the admission of light. The face of the innocent sleeper was turned from the mur- derer, and the beams of the moon, resting on the gray locks of his aged temple, showed him where to strike. The fatal blow is given! and the victim passes, without a strug- gle or a motion, from the repose of sleep to the repose of death ! It is the assassin's purpose to make sure work; and he yet plies the dagger, though it was obvious that life had been destroyed by the blow of the bludgeon. He even raises the aged arm, that he may not fail in his aim at the heart; and replaces it again over the wounds of the poniard ! To finish the picture, he exi)lores the wrist for the jDulse ! He feels for it, and ascertains that it beats no longer! It is accomplished. The deed is done. He re- treats, retraces his steps to the window, passes out through it as he came in, and escapes. He has done the murder; 6.-30. 354 ECLECTIC SERIES. no eye has seen him, no ear has heard him. The secret is his own, and it is safe ! Ah! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret can be safe nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner where the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye which glances through all disguises, and beholds every thing as in the splendor of noon ; such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by men. True it is, generally speaking, that "murder will out." True it is that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those who break the great law of Heaven by shedding man's blood, seldom succeed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much attention as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner or later. A thousand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, eveiy cir- cumstance connected with the time and place; a thousand ears catch every whisper; a thousand excited minds in- tensely . dwell on the scene, shedding all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze of discovery. Meantime, the guilty soul can not keep its own secret. It is false to itself, or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it dares not acknowledge to God nor man. A vulture is devouring it, and it can ask no sympathy or assistance either from heaven or earth. The secret which the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him ; and, like the evil spirits of which we read, it overcomes him, and leads him whitherso- ever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his thoughts. It SIXTH READER. 355 has become his master. It betrays his discretion, it breaks down his courage, it conquers his prudence. When sus- picions from without begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstance to entangle him, the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must be con- fessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from con- fession but suicide, and suicide is confession. — Daniel Webster. Note. — The above extract is from Daniel Webster's argu- ment in the trial of John F. Knapp for the murder of Mr. White, a very wealthy and respectable citizen of Salem, Mass. Four persons were arrested as being concerned in the con- spiracy ; one confessed the plot and all the details of the crime, implicating the others, but he afterwards refused to testify in court. The man who, by this confession, was the actual murderer, committed suicide, and Mr. Webster's assist- ance was obtained in prosecuting the others. John F. Knapp was convicted as principal, and the other two as accessaries in the murder. C. THE CLOSING YEAR. George Denison Prentice, 1802-1870, widely known as a political writer, a poet, and a wit, was born in Preston, Connecticut, and gradu- ated at Brown University in 1823. He studied law, but never practiced his profession. He edited a paper in Hartford for two years; and, in 1831, he became editor of the " Louisville Journal," which position he held for nearly forty years. As an editor, Mr. Prentice was an able, and some- times bitter, political partisan, abounding in wit and satire; as a poet, he not only wrote gracefully himself, but he did much by his kindness and sympathy to develop the poetical talents of others. Some who have since taken high rank, first became known to the world through the columns of the "Louisville Journal." 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now Is brooding like a gentle spirit o'er The still and pulseless world. Hark! on the winds, The bell's deep notes are swelling ; 't is the knell Of the departed year. 356 ECLECTIC SERIES. No funeral train Is sweeping past; yet, on the stream and wood, With melancholy light, the moonbeams rest Like a pale, spotless shroud ; the air is stiiTed As by a mourner's sigh; and, on yon cloud, That floats so still and placidly through heaven, The spirits of the Seasons seem to stand — Young Spring, bright Summer, Autumn's solemn form, And Winter, with his aged locks — and breathe In mournful cadences, that come abroad Like the far wind-harp's wild and touching wail, A melancholy dirge o'er the dead year, Gone from the earth forever. 'Tis a time For memory and for tears. Within the deep. Still chambers of the heart, a specter dim, Whose tones are like the wizard voice of Time, Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold And solemn finger to the beautiful And holy visions, that have passed away. And left no shadow of their loveliness On the dead waste of life. That specter lifts The coffin-lid of Hope, and Joy, and Love, And, bending mournfully above the pale. Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters dead flowers O'er what has passed to nothingness. The year Has gone, and, with it, many a glorious throng Of happy dreams. Its mark is on each brow, Its shadow in each heart. In its swift course It waved its scepter o'er the beautiful. And they are not. It laid its pallid hand Upon the strong man; and the haughty form SIXTH READER. 357 Is fallen, and the flashing eye is dim. It trod the hall of revelry, where thronged The bright and joyous; and the tearful wail Of stricken ones is heard, where erst the song And reckless shout resounded. It passed o'er The battle-plain, where sword, and spear, and shield Flashed in the light of midday; and the strength Of serried hosts is shivered, and the grass, Green from the soil of carnage, waves above The crushed and moMering skeleton. It came, And faded like a wreath of mist at eve; Yet, ere it melted in the viewless air. It heralded its millions to their home In the dim laud of dreams. Eemorseless Time! — Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe! — what power Can stay him in his silent course, or melt His iron heart to pity ! On, still on He presses, and forever. The proud bird. The condor of the Andes, that can soar Through heaven's unfathomable depths, or brave The fury of the northern hurricane. And bathe his plumage in the thunder's home. Furls his broad wings at night-fall, and sinks down To rest upon his mountain crag; but Time Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness; And Night's deep darkness has no chain to bind His rushing pinion. Revolutions sweep O'er earth, like troubled visions o'er the breast Of dreaming sorrow ; cities rise and sink Like bubbles on the water ; fiery isles Spring blazing from the ocean, and go back 358 ECLECTIC SERIES. To their mysterious caverns ; mountains rear To heaven their bald and blackened cliffs, and bow Their tall heads to the plain; new empires rise, Gathering the strength of hoary centuries, And rush down, like the Alpine avalanche. Startling the nations; and the very stars, Yon bright and burning blazonry of God, Glitter awhile in their eternal depths. And, like the Pleiad, loveliest of their train. Shoot from their glorious spheres, and pass away. To darkle in the trackless void ; yet Time, Time the tomb-lniilder, holds his fierce career, Dark, stern, all pitiless, and pauses not Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path, To sit and muse, like other conquerors. Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought. CI. A NEW CITY IN COLORADO. Helen Hunt Jackson, 1^30 , is the daughter of the late Professor Nathan W. Fiske, of Amherst College. She wa.s born in Amherst, and educated at Ipswich, Massachusetts, and at New York. Mrs. Jackson has been twice married. She published "Verses by H. H." in 1871, "Bits of Travel " in 1872, " Bits of Tidk about Home Matters " in 1873. She has since published " Bits of Travel at Home," from which the following se- lection is adapted. Her writings are sparkling and vivacious, — some- limes extravagant, but always suggestive. Garland City is six miles from Fort Garland. The road to it from the fort lies for the last three miles on the top of a sage-grown plateau. It is straight as an arrow, looks in the distance like a brown furrow on the pale gray plain, and seems to pierce the mountains beyond. Up to within an eighth of a mile of Garland City, there is no trace of human habitation. Knowing that the city must be near, you look in all directions for a glimpse of it; the SIXTH HEADER. 359 hills ahead of you rise sharply across your way. Where i.-; the city? At your very feet, but you do not suspect it. The sunset light was fading when we reached the edge of the ravine in which the city lies. It was like looking unawares over the edge of a precipice ; the gulch opened beneath us a« suddenly as if the earth had that moment parted and made it. With brakes set firm, we drove cau- tiously down the steep road; the ravine twinkled with lights, and almost seemed to flutter with white tents and wagon-tops. At the farther end it widened, opening out on an inlet of the San Luis Park ; and, in its center, near this widening mouth, lay the twelve-days-old city. A strange din arose fi-om it. "What is going on?" we exclaimed, "The building of the city," was the reply. "Twelve days ago there was not a house here. To'T : I am conscious of having detained you and the Senate much too long. I was drawn into the de- bate with no previous deliberation, such as is suited to the discussion of so grave and important a subject. But it is a subject of which my heart is full, and I have not been willing to suppress the utterance of its spontaneous senti- ments. I can not, even now, persuade myself to relinquish it, without expressing once more my deep con\nction, that, since it respects nothing less than the union of the states, it is of most vital and essential importance to the public happiness. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and the preservation of our federal Union. It is SIXTH EEADER. 363 t« that Union we owe our safety at home, and our consid- eration and dignity aljroad. It is to that Union that we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That Union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues, in the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences, these great interests immedmtely awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings; and, although our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrmi its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social, and personal happiness. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union, to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of preser\'ing liberty, Avhen the bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the dejith of the abyss below; nor could I regard him as a safe coimselor in the aftairs of this govern- ment, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should be best preserved, but how toler- able might be the condition of the j>eople when it shall be broken up and destroyed. "While the Union lasts, we have high, exciting, gi"atifying prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that, I seek not* to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind. "When my eyes shall be turned to behold, for the last time, the sim in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent; on 364 ECLECTIC SERIES. a land rent Avith civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood. Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and hon- ored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original luster, not a stripe erased or polluted, not a single star obscured — bear- ing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as, What is all this worth? nor those other words of delusion and folly, Liberty first, and Union afterwards — but every- where, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every true American heart — Lib- erty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable! — Daniel Webder. Note. — This selection is the peroration of Mr. Webster's speech in rejily to Mr. Hayne during the debate in the Senate on Mr. Foot's Resolution in regard to the Public Lands. cm. THE INFLUENCES OF THE SUN. John Tyndall, 1S20 , one of the mo.st celebrated modern scien- (i.sts, is an Irishman by birth. He was a pupil of tlie distinguished Faraday. In 1853 he wa.s appointed Professor of Natural Philosophy in the Ro5'al Institution of London. He is known chiefly for his brilliant experiments and clear writing respecting heat, light, and .sound. He has also written one or two interesting books concerning the Alps and their glaciers. A few years since, he visited America, and delighted the most intelligent audiences by liis scientific lectures and his brilliant experi- ment.s. The scientific world is indebted to him for several remarkable discoveries. As surely as the force which moves a clock's hands is derived from the arm which winds up the clock, so surely is all terrestrial power drawn from the sun. Leaving out of account the eruptions of volcanoes, and the ebb and flow of the tides, every mechanical action on the earth's I SIXTH READER. 366 surface, every manifestation of power, organic and in- Diganic, vital and physical, is produced by the sun. His warmth keeps the sea liquid, and the atmosphere a. gas, and all the storms which agitate both are blown by the mechanical force of the sun. He lifts the rivers and the uhiciers up to the mountains; and thus the cataract and the avalanche shoot with an energy derived immediately fiDm him. Thunder and lightning are also his transmitted strength. Every fire that burns and every flame that glows, dispenses light and heat which originally belonged to the sun. In these days, unhappily, the news of battle is familiar to us, but every shock and every charge is an application or niis- api)lication of the mechanical force of the sun. He blows the trumpet, he urges the projectile, he bursts the bomb. And, remember,, this is not poetry, but rigid mechanical truth. He rears, as I have said, the whole vegetable world, and through it the animal; the lilies of the field are his workmanship, the verdure of the meadows, and the cattle upon a thousand hills. He forms the muscles, he urges the blood, he builds the brain. His fleetness is in the lion's foot; he springs in the panther, he soai:s in the eagle, he slides in the snake. He builds the forest and hcAvs it down, the power which raised the tree, and which wields the ax, being one and tlie same. The clover sprouts and blossoms, and the scythe of the mower swings, by the oper- ation of the same force. The sun digs the ore from our mines, he rolls the iron; he rivets the plates, he boils the water; he draws the train. He not only grows the cotton, but he spins the fiber and weaves the web. There is not a hammer raised, a wheel turned, or a shuttle thrown, that is not raised, and turned, and thrown by the sun. His energy is poured freely into space, but our world is a halting-place where this energy is conditioned. Here the 366 ECLECTIC SERIES. Proteus works his spells; the self-same essence takes a million shapes and hues, and finally dissolves into its prim- itive and almost formless form. The sun comes to us as heat ; he quits us as heat ; and between his entrance and departure the multiform powers of our globe appear. They are all special forms of solar power — the molds into which his strength is temporarily poured in passing from its source through infinitude. Note. — Proteus (pro. Pro'te-us) was a mythological divin- ity. His distinguishing characteristic was the power of assum- ing different shapes. CIV. COLLOQUIAL POWERS OF FRANKLIN. William Wirt, 1772-1834, an American lawyer and author, was born at Bladensburg, Maryland. Left an orphan at au early age, he was placed in care of his uncle. He improved his opijortuuities for education so well that he became a private tutor at fifteen. In 1792 he was admitted to the bar, and began the practice of law in Virginia; he removed to Richmond in 1799. From 1817 to 1829 he was Attorney-general of the United States. His last years were spent in Baltimore. Mr. AVirt was the author of several books ; his " Letters of a Biitish Spy," published in 1803, and " Life of Patrick Henry," published in 1817, are the best known of his writings. Never have I known such a fireside companion. Great as he was both as a statesman and philosopher, he never shone in a light more winning than Avhen he was seen in a domestic circle. It was once my good fortune to pass two or three weeks with him, at the house of a private gentleman, in the back part of Pennsylvania, and we were confined to the house during the whole of that time by the unintermitting constancy and depth of the snows. But confinement never could be felt where Franklin was an inmate. His cheerfulness and his colloquial powers spread around him a perisetual spring. When I speak, however, of his colloquial powers, I do SIXTH READER. 367 not mean to awaken any notion analogous to that which Boswell has given us of Johnson. The conversation of the latter continually reminds one of the "pomp and circum- stance of glorious war." It was, indeed, a perpetual con- test for victory, or an arbitrary or despotic exaction of homage to his superior talents. It w* strong, acute, prompt, splendid, and vociferous; as loud, stormy, and sublime as those winds which he represents as shaking the Hebrides, and rocking the old castle which frowned on the dark-rolling sea beneath. But one gets tired of storms, however sublime they may be, and longs for the more orderly current of nature. Of Franklin, no one ever became tired. There was no ambi- tion of eloquence, no effort to shine in any thing which came from him. There was nothing which made any de- mand upon either your allegiance or your admiration. His manner was as unaffected as infancy. It was nature's self. He talked like an old patriarch ; and his plainness and simplicity put you at once at your ease, and gave you the full and free possession and use of your faculties. His thoughts were of a character to shine by their own light, without any adventitious aid. They only required a medium of vision like his pure and simple style, to exhibit to the highest advantage their native radiance and beauty. His cheerfulness was unremitting. It seemed to be as much the effect of a systematic and salutary exercise of the mind, as of its superior organization. His wit was of the first order. It did not show itself merely in occasional coruscations ; but, without any effort or force on his j^art, it shed a constant stream of the purest light over the whole of his discourse. Whether in the company of commons or nobles, he was always the same plain man ; always most perfectly at his ease, with his faculties in full play, and the full orbit of his genius forever clear and unclouded. And then, the stores of his mind were inexhaustible. He had commenced life with an attention so vigilant that 368 ECLECTIC SERIES. nothiDg liad escaped his observation ; and a judgment so solid that every incident Avas turned to advantage. His youth had not been wasted in idleness, nor overcast by in- temperance. He had been, all his life, a close and deep reader, as well as thinker ; and by the force of his own powers, had wr*ight up the raw materials which he had gathered from books, with such exquisite skill and felicity, that he has added a hundred fold to their original value, and justly made them his own. Notes. — Benjamin Franklin (b. 1706, d. 1790) was one of the most prominent men in the struggle of the American col- onies for liberty. He was renowned as a statesman, and, although not an author by profession, was a very prolific writer. His "Autobiography," which was first printed in France, is now a household volume in America. See page 431. Boswell, James, (b. 1740, d 1795,) was a Scotch lawyer, and is chiefly known as the biographer of Dr. Johnson, of whom lie was the intimate friend and companion. Johnson, Samuel. See biographical notice, page 78. CV. THE DREAM OF CLARENCE. Scene — Room in the Toiver of London. Enter Clarence and Brakenbury. Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? Clar. O, I have passed a miserable night. So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams. That, as I am a Christian, faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, . Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days, So full of dismal terror was the time! Brah What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it. Clar. Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower, And was embarked to cross to Burgundy; SIXTH READER. 369 And, in my company, my brother Gloster; Who, from my cabin, tempted me to walk Upon the hatches; thence we looked toward England, And cited np a thousand fearful times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befallen us. As we paced along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, • Methought that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. Oh, then, methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes ! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ; Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there Avere crept. As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems. Which wooed the slimy bottom of the deep. And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by. Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon the secrets of the deep? Clar. Methought I had ; and often did I strive To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood Kept in my soid, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air; But smothered it within my panting bulk. Which almost burst to belch it* in the sea. Brak. Awaked you not W'ith this sore agony? Cla/r. Oh, no ; my dream w'as lengthened after life ; Oh, then began the tempest to my soul. Who passed, methought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferry-man which poets write of. 370 ECLECTIC SERIES. Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; Who cried aloud, "What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?" And so he vanished. Then came wandering by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood ; and he shrieked out aloud : ' "Clarence is come! false, fleeting, perjured Clarence! That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury: Seize on him. Furies, take him to your torments!" With that, methoiights, a legion of foul fiends Environed me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I, trembling, waked, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell; Such terrible impression made the dream. Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you ; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. Clar. O Brakenbury, I have done those things. Which now bear evidence against my soul. For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites me ! O God! if my deep prayers can not appease thee. But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath in mc alone : Oh, spare my guiltless wife end my poor children ! 1 pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. Brak. I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest! Clarence- reposes himself on a chair. Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours. Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. Shalcespeare. — Rvcliard III, Act i, Scene iv. SIXTH READER. 371 Notes. — The houses of York and Lancaster were at war for the possession of the English throne. The Duke of Clarence, and the Duke of Gloster were brothers of King EJd"ward. IV., who was head of the house of York. Clarence married the daughter of the Earl of "Warwick, and joined the latter in several insurrections against the king. They finally plotted with Queen Margaret of the Lancaster party for the restoration of the latter house to the English tlwone, but Clarence betrayed Warwick and the Queen, and killed the latter's son at the battle of Tewksbury. Through the plots of Gloster, Clarence was imj^risoned in the Tower of London, and there murdered. Brakenbury was lieutenant of the Tower. The ferry-man referred to is Charon, of Greek mythology, who was supposed to ferry the souls of the dead over the river Acheron to the infernal regions. CVI. HOMEWARD BOUND. Richard H. Dana, Jr., 1815-1879, was the son of Richard H. Dana, the poet. He was born in Cambridge, Mass. In his boyliood he had a strong desire to be a sailor, but by his father's advice chose a student's life, and entered Harvard University. At the age of nineteen an affection of the eyes compelled hlin to suspend his studies. He now made a voyage to California as a common sailor, and was gone two years. On his return, he resumed his studies and graduated in 1837. He afterwards studied law, and entered upon an active and successful practice. Most of his life has been spent in law and politics, although he has won distinction in literature. The following extract is from his "Two Years before the Mast," a book published in 1810, giving an account of his voyage to California. This book details, in a most clear and entertaining manner, the every- day life of a common sailor on ship-board, and is the best known of all Mr. Dana's works. It is usual, in voyages round the Cape from the Pacific, to keep to the eastward of the Falkland Islands; but, as there had now set in a strong, steady, and clear south- wester, with every prospect of its lasting, and we had had enough of high latitudes, the captain determined to stand immediately to the northward, running inside the Falkland 372 ECLECTIC SERIES. Islands. Accordingly, when the wheel was relieved at eight o'clock, the order was given to keep her due north, and all hands were turned up to square away the yards and make sail. In a moment the news ran through the ship that the captain was keeping her off, with her nose straight for Boston, and Cape Horn over her taffrail. It was a moment of enthusiasm. Every one was on the alert, and even the two sick men turned out to lend a hand at the halyards. The wind was now due south-west, and blowing a gale to which a vessel close-hauled could have shown no more than a single close-reefed sail ; but as we were going before it, we could carry on. Accordingly, hands were sent aloft and a reef shaken out of the top-sails, and the reefed foresail set. When we came to mast-head the top- sail yards, with all hands at the halyards, Ave struck up, " Cheerly, men," with a chorus which might have been heard half-way to Staten Island. Under her increased sail, the ship drove on through the water. Yet she could bear it well; and the captain sang out from the quarter-deck — "Another reef out of that fore top-sail, and give it to her." Two hands sprang aloft; the frozen reef-points and earings were cast adrift, the hal- yards manned, and the sail gave out her increased canvas to the gale. All hands were kept on deck to watch the effect of the change. It was as much as she could well carry, and with a heavy sea astern, it took two men at the wheel to steer her. She flung the foam from her bows; the spray breaking aft as far as the gangway. She was going at a prodigious rate. Still, every thing held. Preventer braces were reeved and hauled taut; tackles got upon the backstays; and every thing done to keep all snug and strong. The captain walked the deck at a rapid stride, looked aloft at the sails, and then to windward ; the mate stood in the gangway, rubbing his hands, and talking aloud to the SIXTH READER. 373 ship — "Hurrah, old bucket! the Boston girls have got hold of the tow-rope!" and the like; and we were on the forecastle, looking to see how the spars stood it, and guess- ing the rate at which she was going, — when the captain called out — "Mr. Brown, get up the top-mast studding- sail ! What she can't carry she may drag ! " The mate looked a moment ; but he would let no one be before him in daring. He sprang forward, — "Hurrah, men ! rig out the top-mast studding-sail boom ! Lay aloft, and I '11 send the rigging up to you ! " We sprang aloft into the top; lowered a girt-line down, by which we hauled up the rigging ; rove the tacks and halyards ; ran out the boom and lashed it fast, and sent down the lower halyards as a preventer. It was a clear starlight night, cold and blowing ; but every body worked with a will. Some, indeed, looked as though they thought the "old man" was mad, but no one said a word. We had had a new top-mast studding-sail made with a reef in it, — a thing hardly ever heard of, and which the sailors had ridiculed a good deal, saying that when it was time to reef a studding-sail it was time to take it in. But we found a use for it now ; for, there being a reef in the top-sail, the studding-sail could not be set without one in it also. To be sure, a studding-sail with reefed top-sails was rather a novelty; yet chere was some reason in it, for if we carried that away, we should lose only a sail and a boom ; but a whole top-sail might have carried away the mast and all. While we were aloft, the sail had been got out, bent to the yard, reefed, and ready for hoisting. Waiting for a good opportunity, the halyards were manned and the yard hoisted fairly up to the block; but when the mate came to shake the cat's-paw out of the downhaul, and we began to boom-end the sail, it shook the ship to her center. The boom buckled up and bent like a whip-stick, and we looked every moment to see something go; but, being of 374 ECLECTIC SERIES. the short, tough upland spruce, it bent like whalebone, and nothing could break it. The carpenter said it was the best stick he had ever seen. The strength of all hands soon brought the tack to the boom-end, and the sheet was trimmed down, and the pre- venter and the weather-brace hauled taut to take off the strain. Every rope-yarn seemed stretched to the utmost, and every thread of canvas ; and with this sail added to her, the ship sprang through the water like a thing pos- sessed. The sail being nearly all forward, it lifted her out of the water, and she seemed actually to jump from sea to sea. From the time her keel was laid, she had never been so driven; and had it been life or death with every one of us, she could not have borne another stitch of canvas. Finding that she would bear the sail, the hands were sent below, and our watch remained on deck. Two men at the wheel had as much as they could do to keep her within three points of her course, for she steered as wild as a young colt. The mate walked the deck, looking at the sails, and then over the side to see the foam fly by her, — • slapping his hands upon his thighs and talking to the ship — "Hurrah, you jade, you've got the scent! you know where you're going!" And when she leaped over the seas, and almost out of the water, and trembled to her very keel, the spars and masts snapping and creaking, — "There she goes! — There she goes — handsomely! — As long as she cracks, she holds!" — while we stood with the rigging laid down fair for letting go, and ready to take in sail and clear away if any thing went. At four bells we hove the log, and she was going eleven knots fairly; and had it not been for the sea from aft which sent the chip home, and threw her continually off her course, the log would have shown her to have been going somewhat faster. I Avent to the wheel with a young fellow from the Kennebec, who was a good helmsman : and for two hours we had our hands full. A few minutes SIXTH READER. 375 showed us that our monkey-jackets must come oft*; and, cold as it was, we stood in our shirt-sleeves in a perspiration, and were glad enough to have it eight bells and the wheels relieved. We turned in and slept as well as we could, though the sea made a constant roar under her bows, and washed over the forecastle like a small cataract. Notes. — The Falkland Islands are a groui) in the At- lantic just east of Cajje Horn. Bells. On shipboard time is counted in bells, the bell being struck every half hour. CVII. IMPEACHMENT OF WARREN HASTINGS. Thomas Babington Macaulay, 1800-1859, was born in the village of Rothley, Leicestershire. On his father's side, he descended from Scotch Highlanders and ministers of the kirk. His education began at liome, and was completed at Trinity College, Cambridge. While a student, he gained much reputation as a writer and a debater. In 1826 lie was ad- mitted to the bar. In 1825 began his connection with the " Edinburgh Review," which continued twenty years. Some of his most brilliant essays appeared first in its pages. He was first chosen to Parliament in 1830, and was re-elected several times. In 1840 his essays and some other writings were collected and published with the title of " Miscellanies." His " Laj-s of Ancient Rome" was published in 1842. His "History of England " was published near the close of his life. In 1857 lie was given the title of Baron Macaulay. "His stj'le i.s vigorous, rapid in its move- ment, and brihiant ; and yet, with all its splendor, has a crystalline clear- ness. Indeed,. the fauh generally found with his style is, that it is so constantly brilliant that the vision is dazzled and wearied with its ex- cessive brightness." He has sometimes been charged with sacrificing facts to fine sentences. In his statesmansliip, Macaulay was always an earnest defender of liberty. His first speech in Parliament was in support of a bill to re- move the civil disabilities of the Jews, and his whole parliamentary career was consistent with this wise and liberal beginning. The place in which the impeachment of Warren Hast- ings was conducted, was worthy of such a trial. It was the great hall of William Rufus; the hall which had re- sounded with acclamations at the inauguration of thirty 376 ECLECTIC SERIES. kings ; the hall which had witnessed the just sentence of Bacon, and the just absolution of Somers; the hall where the eloquence of Strafford had for a moment awed and melted a victorious party inflamed with just resentment; the hall where Charles had confronted the High Court of Justice with the placid courage which half redeemed his fame. Neither military nor civil pomp was wanting. The avenues were lined with grenadiers. The streets were kept clear by cavalry. The peers, robed in gold and ermine, were marshaled by heralds. The judges, in their vestments of state, attended to give advice on points of law. The long galleries were crowded by such an audience as has rarely excited the fears or the emulation of an orator. There were gathered together, from all parts of a great, free, enlightened, and 2)rosperous realm, grace and female loveliness, wit and learning, the representatives of every science and of every art. Tliere were seated around the queen, the fair-haired, young daughters of the house of Brunswick. There the embassadors of great kings and commonwealths gazed with admiration on a spectacle which no other country in the world could present. There Siddons, in the prime of her majestic beauty, looked with emotion on a scene surpassing all the imitations of the stage. There Gibbon, the his- torian of the Roman Empire, thought of the days when Cicero pleaded the cause of Sicily against Verres; and when, before a senate which had still some show of freedom, Tacitus thundered against the oppressor of Africa. There, too, were seen, side by side, the greatest painter and the greatest scholar of the age; for the spectacle liad allured Reynolds from his easel and Parr from his study. The sergeants made proclamation. Hastings advanced to the bar, and bent his knee. The culprit was indeed not unworthy of that great presence. He had ruled an exten- SIXTH READER. 377 sive and populous country; had made laws and treaties; had sent forth armies ; had set up and pulled down princes; and in his high place he had so borne himself, that all had feared him, that most had loved him, and that hatred itself could deny him no title to glory, except virtue. A person, small and emaciated, yet deriving dig- nity from a carriage which, while it indicated deference to the court, indicated, also, habitual self-possession and self- respect ; a high and intellectual forehead ; a brow, pensive, but not gloomy ; a mouth of inflexible decision ; a face, pale and worn, but serene, on which a great and well- balanced mind was legibly written: such was the asj^ect with which the great proconsul presented himself to his judges. The charges, and the answers of Hastings, were first read. This ceremony occupied two whole days. On the third, Burke rose. Four sittings of the court were occu- pied by bis opening speech, which was intended to be a general introduction to all the charges. With an exuber- ance of thought and a splendor of diction, which more than satisfied the highly raised expectations of the audi- ence, he described the character and institutions of the natives of India ; recounted the circumstances in which the Asiatic Empire of Britain had originated; and set forth the constitution of the Company and of the English Presi- dencies. Having thus attempted to communicate to his hearers an idea of eastern society, as vivid as that which existed in his own mind, he proceeded to arraign the administration of Hastings, as systematically conducted in defiance of morality and public law. The energy and pathos of the great orator extorted expressions of unwonted admiration from all ; and, for a moment, seemed to pierce even the resolute heart of the defendant. The ladies in the galler- ies, unaccustomed to such disj^lays of eloquence, excited by the solemnity of the occasion, and perhaps not unwilling to 6.-S2. 378 ECLECTIC SEBIES. display their taste and sensibility, were in a state of uncon- trollable emotion. Handkerchiefs were pulled out; smell- ing-bottles were handed round; hysterical sobs and screams were heard, and some were even carried out in fits. At length the orator concluded. Raising his voice, till tlie old arches of Irish oak resounded — "Therefore," said he, "hath it with all confidence been ordered by the Com- mons of Great Britain, that I impeach Warren Hastings of high crimes and misdemeanors. I impeach him in the name of the Commons House of Parliament, whose trust he has betrayed. I impeach him m the name of the En- glish nation, whose ancient honor he has sullied. I im- peach him in the name of the people of India, whose rights he has trodden under foot, and whose country he has turned into a desert. Lastly, in the name of human nature itself, in the name of both sexes, in the name of every age, in the name of every rank, I impeach the common enemy and oppressor of all." Notes. — Warren Hastings (b. 1732, d. 1818) was Governor- general of British India. He was impeached for maladmin- istration, but, after a trial which extended fi-om Feb. 13th, 1788, to April 23d, 1795, and occupied one hundred and forty- eight days, he was acquitted by a large majority on each sep- arate count of the impeachment. William Rufus, or William II. (b. 1056, d. 1100),built West- minster Hall in which the trial was held. Bacon; see bio- graphical notice, pages 332 and 333. Somers, John (b. 1651, d. 1716) was impeached for maladministration while holding the office of lord chamberlain. Strafford, Thomas Went- worth, earl of, (b. 1593, d. 1641,) was impeached for his mis- management while governor of Ireland. He conducted his own defense with such eloquence that the original impeach- ment was abandoned, although he was immediately con- demned for high treason and executed. Charles I. (b. 1600, d. 1649), aft«r a war with Parliament, in which the rights of the people were at issue, was captured, tried, and condemned to death. SIXTH BEADEE. 379 The House of Brunswick is one of the oldest families of Germany. A branch of this family occupies the British throne. Siddons, Sarah (b. 1755, d. 1831), was a famous English act- ress. Gibbon, Edward (b. 1737, d. 1794), was a celebrated English historian. Cicero ; see note on page 156. Tacitus (b. about 55, d. after 117 A. D.) was a Eoman orator and his- torian, who conducted the prosecution of Marius, proconsul of Africa. Reynolds, Sir Joshua (b. 1723, d. 1792), an English portrait-painter of note. Parr, Samuel (b. 1747, d. 1825), was an English author. Burke, Edmund; see biographical sketch accompanying the following lesson. CVIII. DESTRUCTION OF THE CARNATIC. Edmund Burke, 1730-1797, one of the most able and biilliant of En- gland's e.s.sayi.sts, orators, and statesmen, was born in Dublin, and was the son of an able lawyer. He graduated at Trinity College, Dublin, in 1748. As a student, he was distinguished for ability and industry. From 1750 to 1766 he was in London writing for periodicals, publishing books, or serving as private .secretary. His work on " The Sublime and Beautiful " appeared in 17.56. From 176G to 1794 he was a member of I\irliament, rep- resenting at different times different constituencies. On the first day of his appearance in the House of Commons he made a successful speech. " In the three principal questions which excited his interest, and called forth the most splendid displays of hrs eloriuence — the contest with the American Colonies, the impeachment of Warren Hastings, and the French Revolution — we see displayed a philanthropy the most pure, illustrated by a genius the mo.st resijlendent." Mr. Burke's foresight, uprightness, integrity, learning, magnanimity, and eloquence made him one of the most conspicuous men of his timej and his writings stand among the noblest contributions to English literature. When at length Hyder Ali found that he had to do with men who either would sign no convention, or whom no treaty and no signature could bind, and who were the determined enemies of human intercourse itself, he decreed to make the country possessed by these incorrigible and pre- destinated criminals a memorable example to mankind. He resolved, in the gloomy recesses of a mind capacious of such things, to leave the whole Carnatic an everlasting monument of vengeance, and to put perpetual desolation 380 ECLECTIC SERIES. as a barrier between him and those against whom the faith which holds the moral elements of the world together was no protection. He became at length so confident of his force, so col- lected in his might, that he made no secret whatsoever of his dreadful resolution. Having terminated his disputes with every enemy and every rival, who buried their mutual animosities in their common detestation against the creditors of the Nabob of Arcot, he drew from every quarter what- ever a savage ferocity could add to his new rudiments in the arts of destruction ; and compounding all the materials of fury, havoc, and desolation into one black cloud, he hung for awhile on the declivities of the mountains. Whilst the authors of all these evils were idly and stupidly gazing on this menacing meteor which blackened all their horizon, it suddenly burst, and poured down the whole of its contents upon the plains of the Carnatic. Then ensued a scene of woe, the like of which no eye had seen, no heart conceived, and which no tongue can adequately tell. All the horrors of war before known or heard of, were mercy to that new havoc. A storm of uni- versal fire blasted every field, consumed every house, de- stroyed every temple. The miserable inhabitants, flying from their flaming villages, in part were slaughtered ; others, without regard to sex, to age, to the respect of rank, or sacredness of function, — fathers torn from children, hus- bands from wives, enveloped in a whirlwind of cavalry, and, amidst the goading spears of drivers, and the tramp- ling of pursuing horses, — were swej^t into captivity, in an unknown and hostile land. Those who were able to evade this tempest, fled to the walled cities; but escai:)ing from fire, sword, and exile, they fell into the jaws of famine. The alms of the settlement of Madras, in this dreadful exigency, were certainly liberal, and all was done by charity that private charity could do; but it was a people in beg- SIXTH READER. 381 gary; it was a nation which stretched out its hands for food. For months together these creatures of sufferance, whose very excess and luxury in their most plenteous days had fallen short of the allowance of our austerest fasts, silent, patient, resigned, without sedition or disturbance, almost without complaint, perished by a hundred a day in the streets of Madras; every day seventy at least laid their bodies in the streets, or on the glacis of Tanjore, and ex- pired of famine in the granary of India. I was going to wake your justice toward this unhapi:)y part of our fellow-citizens, by bringing before you some of the circumstances of this plague of hunger. Of all the calamities which beset and waylay the life of man, this comes the nearest to our heart, and is that wherein the proudest of us all feels himself to be nothing more than he is. But I find myself unable to manage it with decorum. These details are of a species of horror so nauseous an3 disgusting; they are so degrading to the sufferers and to the hearers;' they are so humiliating to human nature itself, that, on better thoughts, I find it more advisable to throw a pall over this hideous object, and to leave it to your general concej)tions. For eighteen months, without intermission, this destruc- tion raged from the gates of Madras to the gates of Tan- jore; and so comjDletely did these masters in their art, Hyder Ali, and his more ferocious son, absolve themselves of their impious vow, that when the British armies traversed, as they did, the Carnatic, for hundreds of miles in all directions, through the whole line of their march they did not see one man — not one woman — not one child — not one four-footed beast of any description whatever! One dead, uniform silence reigned over the whole region. With the inconsiderable exceptions of the narrow vicin- age of some few forts, I wish to be understood as speaking 382 ECLECTIC SERIES. literally; — I mean to produce to you more than three wit- nesses, who will support this assertion in its full extent. That hurricane of war passed through every part of the central provinces of the Carnatic. Six or seven districts to the north and to the south (and these not wholly un- touched) escaped the general ravage. Notes. — This selection is an extract from Burke's cele- brated speech in Parliament, in 1785, on the Nabob of A root's debts; it bore upon the maladministration of Hastings. Arcot, a district in India, had been ceded to the British on condition that they should pay the former ruler's debts. These were found to be enormous, and the creditors proved to be individuals in the East India Company's employ. The creditors, for their private gain, induced the Nabob to attempt the subjugation of other native princes, among whom was Hyder Ali. 'J'he latter at first made successful resistance, and compelled the Nabob and his allies to sign a treaty. The treaty was not kept, and the destruction above recounted took place. The Carnatic is a province in British India, on the eastern side of the peninsula; it contains about 50,000 square miles. Madras is a city, and Tanjore a town, in this px'ovince. CIX. THE RAVEN. Edgar Allan Poe, 1811-1849, was born in Baltimore, and died in the same city. He was left a destitute orphan at an early age, and was adopted by Mr. John Allan, a wealtliy citizen of Riclimond. He entered the University of Virginia, at Cliarlottesville, where he excelled in his studies, and was always at the head of his class; but he was compelled to leave on account of irregularities. He was^ afterwards appointed a cadet at "West Point, but failed to graduate there for the same reason. Poe now quarreled with his benefactor and left his house never to return. During the rest of his melancholy career, he obtained a precarious live- lihood by different literary enterprises. His ability as a writer gained him positions with various periodicals in Richmond, New York, and Philadelphia, and during tliis time he wrote some of his finest prose. The appearance of " The Raven " in 184-5, however, at once made Poe a SIXTH EEADER. 383 literai-j' lion. He was quite successful for a time, but theu fell back into his dissipated habits which finally caused his death. lu his personal ap- pearance, Poe was neat and gentlemanly; his face was expressive of in- tellect and sensibility ; and his mental powers in some directions were of a high order. His writings show care, and a great degree of skill in their construction ; but their efl'ect is generally morbid. Once upon a raidniglit dreary, While I pondered, weak and weary. Over many a quaint and curious Volume of forgotten lore — While I nodded, nearly napping, Suddenly there came a tajiping. As of some one gently rapping, Rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "Tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more. Ah, distinctly I remember. It was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember Wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — Vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — Sorrow for the lost Lenore — For the rare and radiant maiden Whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore. And the silken, sad, uncertain Rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me, — filled me with fantastic Terrors, never felt before ; So that now, to still the beating 384 ECLECTIC SERIES. Of my heart, I stood rejieating, " 'Tis some visitor entreating Entrance at my chamber door — Some late visitor entreating Entrance at my chamber door; This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; Hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly Your forgiveness I implore ; But the flict is I was naj)ping,' And so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, •Tapping at my chamber door,- That I scarce was sure I heard you." — Here I opened wide the door ; — Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, Long I stood there, wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals Ever dared to dream before ; But the silence was unbroken. And the stillness gave no token, And the only word there spoken Was the whispered word, "Lenore!" Tliis I whispered, and an echo Murmured back the word, " Lenore ! " — Merely this, and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning. All my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping, Something louder than before. 6.-33. SIXTH READER. 386 " Surely," said I, " surely, that is Something at my window lattice ; Let me see then, what thereat is. And this mystery explore — Let my heart be still a moment, And this mystery explore ; — 'Tis the Avind, and nothing more." Open here I flung the shutter, When, with many a flirt and flutter, Li there stepped a stately Raven Of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; Not a minute stopped or stayed he, But, with mien of lord or lady, . Perched above my chamber door^ Perched upon a bust of Pallas Just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling My sad fancy into smiling. By the grave and stern decorum Of the countenance it wore, " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, Thou," I said, " art sure no craven. Ghastly, grim, and ancient Raven, Wandering from the nightly shore, Tell me what thy lordly name is On the night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." Much I marveled this ungainly- Fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — 886 ECLECTIC SERIES. Little relevancy bore; For we can not help agreeing That no living human being Ever yet was blest with seeing Bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured Bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore." But the Raven, sitting lonely On that placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in That one word he did outpour. Nothing farther then he uttered. Not a feather then he fluttered. Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown before — CW the morrow he Avill leave me. As my Hopes have flown before." Then the bird said, "Nevermore." Startled at the stillness broken By reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters Is its only stock and store. Caught from some unhappy master Whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster Till his songs one burden bore — Till the dirges of his Hope that Melancholy burden bore Of 'Never — nevermore.'" But the Raven still beguiling All my sad soul into smiling. Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in SIXTH READEB. 387 Front of bird, and bust, and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking What this ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly. Gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore." This I sat engaged in guessing. But no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now Burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, With my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining That the lamp-light gloated o'er. But whose velvet violet lining. With the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, Perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim, whose footfalls Tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — By these angels he hath sent thee Respite — respite and nepenthe From thy memories of Lenore ! Quaff, oh quaff" this kind nepenthe, And forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the Raven^ "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — Prophet still, if bird or devil ! — Whether Tempter sent, or Avhether 388 ECLECTIC SERIES. Tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate, yet all uudauuted, On this desert land enchanted — On this home by Horror haunted — Tell me truly, I implore — Is there — is there balm in Gilead? Tell me — tell me, I implore ! " Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil, — Prophet still, if bird or devil ! — By that heaven that bends above us, By that G(jd we both adore. Tell this soul with sorrow laden, If, Avithin the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden Whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden. Whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." " Be that word our sign of parting. Bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting; " Get thee back into the tempest And the night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black jilume as a token Of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! Leave my loneliness unbroken ! — Quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and Take thy form from off my door ! " Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." And the Raven, never flitting, Still is sitting, still is sitting SIXTH READER. 389 On the pallid bust of Pallas Just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming Of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamplight o'er him streaming Throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow, That lies floating on the floor, Shall be lifted — nevermore! Notes. — Pallas, or Minerva, in ancient mythology, was the goddess of wisdom. Plutonian ; see note on Pluto, page 242. Gilead is the name of a mountain group of Palestine, cel- ebrated for its balsam or balm made from herbs. It is here used figuratively. Aidenn is an Anglicized and disguised siDelling of the Arabic form of the word Eden: it is here used as a synonym for heaven. ex. A VIEW OF THE COLOSSEUM. Orville Dewey, 1794 , a well known Unitarian clergyman and autlior, was born iu Slieffleld, Mas.sacliusetts, graduated with distinction at Williams College in 1814, and afterward studied theology at Andover. For a while he was assistant to Dr. W. E. Channing in Boston. He has since been pastor in New Bedford, New York. City, and Boston. He has made two or three voyages to Europe, and has, published accounts of his travels. " Discourses on Human Life," " Discourses on the Nature of Religion," "Discourses on Commerce and Business," are among his published works. His writings are both philosophical and practical ; and, as a preacher, he was esteemed original, earnest, and impressive. On the eighth of November, from the high land, about fourteen miles distant, I first saw Rome; and although there is something very unfavorable to impression in_ the expectation that you are to be greatly impressed, or that 390 ECLECTIC SERIES. you ought to be, or that such is the fashion; yet Rome is too mighty a name to be withstood by such or any other influences. Let you come upon that hill in what mood you may, the scene will lay hold upon you as with the hand of a giant. I scarcely know how to describe the impression, but it seemed to me as if something strong and stately, like the slow and majestic march of a mighty whirlwind, swept around those eternal towers; the storms of time, that had prostrated the proudest monuments of the Avorld, seemed to have left their vibrations in the still and solemn air; ages of history passed before me; the mighty pro- cession of nations, kings, consuls, emperors, empires, and generations had passed over that sublime theater. The fire, the storm, the earthquake, had gone by ; but there was yet left the still, small voice like that at which the prophet " wrapped his face in his mantle." I went to see the Colosseum by moonlight. It is the monarch, the majesty of all ruins; there is nothing like it. All the associations of the place, too, give it the most im- pressive character. When you enter within this stupendous circle of ruinous walls and arches, and grand terraces of masonry, rising one above another, you stand upon the arena of the old gladiatorial combats and Christian martyr- dom; and as you lift your eyes to the vast amphitheater, you meet, in imagination, the eyes of a hundred thousand Romans, assembled to witness these bloody spectacles. What a multitude and mighty array of human beings; and how little do we know in modern times of great as- semblies ! One, two, and thi-ee, and, at its last enlargement by Constantine, more than three hundred thousand persons could be seated in the Circus Maximus ! But to return to the Colosseum; we went up under the conduct of a guide upon the walls and terraces, or em- bankments, which supported the ranges of seats. The seats have long since disappeared ; and grass overgrows the spots where the pride, and power, and wealth, and beauty of SIXTH BEADER. 391 Rome sat down to its barbarous entertainments. What thronging life was here then! What voices, what greet- ings, what hurrying footsteps upon the staircases of the eighty arches of entrance! And now, as we picked our way carefully through the decayed passages, or cautiously ascended some moldering flight of steps, or stood by the lonely walls — ourselves silent, and, for a wonder, the guide silent, too — there was no sound here but of the bat, and none came from without but the roll of a distant carriage, or the convent bell from the summit of the neighboring Esquiline. It is scarcely possible to describe the effect of moonlight upon this ruin. Through a hundred lonely arches and blackened passage-ways it streamed in, pure, bright, soft, lambent, and yet distinct and clear, as if it came there at once to reveal, and cheer, and pity the mighty desolation. But if the Colosseum is a mournful and desolate spectacle as seen from within — without, and especially on the side which is in best preservation, it is glorious. We passed around it; and, as we looked upward, the moon shining through its arches, from the opposite side, it appeared as if it were the coronet of the heavens, so vast was it — or like a glorious crown upon the brow of night. I feel that I do not and can not describe this mighty ruin. I can only say that I came away paralyzed, and as passive as a child. A soldier stretched out his hand for "wn dono" as we passed the guard; and when my com-, panion said I did wrong to give, I told him that I should have given my cloak, if the man had asked it. Would you break any spell that worldly feeling or selfish sorrow may have spread over your mind, go and see the Colosseum by moonlight. Notes. — The Colosseum, (pro. Col-os-se'um) was com- menced by the Roman emperor A'espasian, and was completed by Titus, his son, 79 A. D. Its construction occupied but three 392 ECLECTIC SERIES. years, notwithstanding its size; a great part of its walls are standing to-day. The Circus Maximus was an amphitheater built by Tar- quin the Elder aliout COO B. C. Constantine. See note on page 175. The Esquiline is one of the seven hills uj^on which Rome is built. Un dono, an Italian phrase meaning a gift or alms. CXI. THE BRIDGE. I STOOD on the bridge at midnight, As the clocks were striking the hour, And the moon rose o'er the city, Behind the dark church tower. I saw her bright reflection In the waters under me. Like a golden goblet falling And sinking into the sea. And far in the hazy distance Of that lovely night in June, The hlaze of the flaming furnace Gleamed redder than the moon. Among the long, black rafters The W'avering shadows lay, And the cuirent that came from the ocean. Seemed to lift and bear them away ; As, sweeping and eddying through them. Rose the belated tide. And, streaming into the moonlight, The sea-weed floated wide. SIXTH BEADEB. 393 And like those waters rushing Among the wooden piers, A flood of thoughts came o'er me That filled my eyes with tears. How often, oh, how often, In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnight And gazed on that wave and sky! How often, oh, how often, I had wished that the ebbing tide Would bear me away on its bosom O'er the ocean wild and wide. For my heart was hot and restless, And my life was full of care. And the burden laid upon me Seemed greater than I could bear. But now it has fallen from me. It is buried in the sea; And only the sorrow of others Throws its shadow over me. Yet, whenever I cross the river On its bridge Avith wooden piers. Like the odor of brine from the ocean Comes the thought of other years. And I think how many thousands Of care-encumbered men. Each bearing his burden of sorrow. Have crossed the bridge since then. 394 ECLECTIC SERIES. I see the long procession Still passing to and fro, The young heart hot and restless, And the old, subdued and slow ! And forever and forever, As long as the river flows, As long as the heart has passions. As long as life has woes; The moon and its broken reflection And its shadows shall appear As the symbol of love in heaven. And its wavering image here. — Longfdlow. CXII. OBJECTS AND LIMITS OP SCIENCE. Robert Charles "Winthrop, 1809 , Is a descendant of John Win- throp, the first Governor of the Colony of Massachusetts Bay. He was born in Boston, studied at the public Latin School, graduated at Harvard in 1828, and studied hiw with Daniel Wobst«r. Possessing an ample fortune, he made little eflTort to practice his professioy. In 1834 he was elected to the Legislature of his native state, and was re-elected five times ; three years he was Speaker of the House of Representatives. In 1840 he was chosen to Congress, and sat as Representative for ten years. In 1847 he was chosen Speaker of the House. He also served a short time in the Senate. His published writings are chiefly in the form of addresses and speeches; they are easy, finished, and scholarly. As a speaker, Mr. Winthrop is ready, full-voiced, and self-possessed. There are fields enough for the wildest and most ex- travagant theorizings, within man's own appropriate domain, without overleaping the barriers which separate things human and divine. Indeed, I have often thought that modern science had afibrded a most opportune and provi- dential safety-valve for the intellectual curiosity and am- bition of man, at a moment when the progress of educa- SIXTH READER. 395 tion, invention, and liberty had ronsed and stimulated him to a pitch of such unprecedented eagerness and ardor. Astronomy, Chemistry, and, more than all. Geology, with their incidental branches of study, have opened an inex- haustible field for investigation and speculation. Here, by the aid of modern instruments and modern modes of analysis, the most ardent and earnest spirits may find ample room and verge enough for their insatiate activity and audacious enterprise, and may pursue their course not only without the slightest danger of doing mischief to others, but with the certainty of promoting the great end of scientific truth. Let them lift their vast reflectors or refractors to the skies, and detect new planets in their hiding-places. Let them waylay the fugitive comets in their flight, and compel them to disclose the precise period of their orbits, and to give bonds for their punctual return. Let them drag out reluctant satellites from " their habitual concealments." Let them resolve the unresolvable nebulae of Orion or Andromeda. They need not fear. The sky will not fall, nor a single star be shaken from its sj^here. Let them perfect and elaborate their marvelous processes of making the light and the lightning their ministers, for putting "a pencil of rays" into the hand of art, and pro- viding tongues of fire for the communication of intelli- gence. Let them foretell the path of the whirlwind, and calculate the orbit of the storm. Let them hang out their gigantic pendulums, and make the earth do the work of describing and measuring her own motions. Let them annihilate human pain, and literally "charm ache with air, and agony with ether." The blessing of God will attend all their toils, and the gratitude of man will await all their triumphs. Let them dig down into the bowels of the earth. Let them rive asunder the massive rocks, and unfold the history of creation as it lies written on the pages of their 396 ECLECTIC SERIES. piled up strata. Let them gather up the fossil fragments of a lost Fauna, reproducing the ancient forms which in- habited the land or the seas, bringing them together, bone to his bone, till Leviathan and Behemoth stand before us in bodily presence and in' their full proportions, and we almost tremble lest these dry bones should live again ! Let them put nature to the rack, and torture her, in all her forms, to the betrayal of her inmost secrets and con- fidences. They need not forbear. The foundations of the round world have been laid so strong that they can not be moved. But let them not think by searching to find out God. Let them not dream of understanding the Almighty to perfection. Let them not dare to apply their tests and solvents, their modes of analysis or their terms of defini- tion, to the secrets of the spiritual kingdom. Let them spare the foundations of faith. Let them be satisfied with what is revealed of the mysteries of the Divine Nature. Let them not break through the bounds to gaze after the Invisible. NoTKs. — Orion and Andromeda are the names of two constellations. The Leviathan is described in Job, chap, xli, and the Behemoth in Job, chap. xl. It is not known exactly what beasts are meant by these descriptions. CXIII. THE DOWNFALL OF POLAND. O SACRED Truth! thy triumph ceased a while. And Hope, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile. When leagued Oppression poured to northern wars Her whiskered pandours and her fierce hussars, Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn; SIXTH READER. 397 Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man! Warsaw's last champion, from her height surveyed, Wide o'er the fields a waste *of ruin laid ; "O Heaven!" he cried, "my bleeding counti-y save! Is there no hand on high to shield the brave? Yet, though destruction sweep those 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 — W'ith her to die!" He said, and on the rampart-heights arrayed His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed; Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm ; Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly, Revenge or death — the watchword and rej^ly ; Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm. In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few! From rank to rank, your volleyed thunder flew! Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of time, Sarmatia fell, unwef)t, without a crime ; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe. Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe! Dropped from her nerveless grasp the shattered spear. Closed her bright eye, and curbed her high career; Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell, And Freedom shrieked as Kosciusko fell ! — Thomas Campbell. Notes.— Kosciusko (b. 1746, d. 1817), a celebrated Polish patriot, who had served in the American Revolution, was be- 398 ECLECTIC SERIES. sieged at Warsaw, in 1794, by a large force of Russians, Prus- sians, and Austrians. After the siege was raised, he marched against a force of Russians much larger than his own, and was defeated. He was himself severely wounded and captured. Sarmatia is the ancien^ name for a region of Europe which embraced Poland, but was of greater extent. CXIV. LABOR. Horace Greeley, 1811-1872. This celebrated man, perhaps the most famous editor of America, the son of poor parents, was born in Amherst, New Hampshire. His boyhood was passed in farm labor, in attending the common school, and in reading every book on which he could lay his liands. His reading was mostly done by the light of pine knots. At fifteen he entered a printing-office in Vermont, became the best work- man in the office, and continued to improve every opportunity for study. At the age of twenty he appeared in New York City, poorly clothed, and almost destitute ol money. He worked at his trade for a year or two, and then set up printing for himself. For several years he was not suc- cessful, but struggled on, performing an immense amount of work as an editor. In 1841 he established the " New York Tribune," which soon be- came one of the most successful and influential papers in the country. In 1848 he was elected to Congress, but remained but a short time. In 1872 he was a candidate for the Presidency, was defeated, and died a few days afterward. Mr. Greeley is a rare example of what may be accom- plislied by honesty and unflinching industry. Besides tlie vast amount which he wrote for the newspapers, he published several books ; the best known of them is "The American Conflict." Every child should be trained to ^dexterity in some use- ful branch of productive industry, not in order that he shall certainly follow that pursuit, but that he may at all events be able to do so in case he shall fail in the more intellectual or artificial calling which he may prefer to it. Let him seek to be a doctor, lawyer, preacher, poet, if he Avill ; but let him not stake his all on success in that pur- suit, but have a second line to fall back upon if driven from his first. Let him be so reared and trained that he may enter, if he will, uj^on some intellectual calling in the sustaining consciousness that he need not debase himself, nor do violence to his convictions, in order to achieve SIXTH READER. 399 success therein, since he can live and thrive in another (if you choose, humbler) vocation, if driven from that of liis choice. This buttress to integrity, this assurance of self- respect, is to be found in a universal training to efficiency in Productive Labor. The world is full of misdirection and waste; but all the calamities and losses endured by mankind through frost, drouth, blight, hail, fires, earthquakes, inundations, are as nothing to those habitually suffered by them through human idleness and inefficiency, mainly caused (or excused) by lack of industrial training. It is quite within the truth to estimate that one tenth of our people, in the average, are habitually idle because (as they say) they cau find no employment. They look for work where it can not be had. They seem to be, or they are, unable to do such as abundantly confronts and solicits them. Suppose theae to average but one million able-bodied persons, and that their work is Avorth but one dollar each per day; our loss by in- voluntary idleness can not be less than $300,000,000 per annum. I judge that it is actually $500,000,000. Many who stand Avaiting to be hired could earn from tAvo to five dollars jaer day had they been properly trained to Avork. "There is plenty of room higher up," said Daniel Webster, in response to an inquiry as to the prospects of a young man just entering upon the practice of laAv; and there is ncA^er a dearth of employment for men or Avomen of signal capacity or skill. In this city, ten thousand Avomen are ahvays doing ueedle-Avork for less than fifty cents per day, finding themselves; yet tAvice their number of capable, skillful seamstresses could find steady employment and good living in Avealthy families at not less than one dollar per day OA'^er and above board and lodging. He Avho is a good blacksmith, a fair mill-wright, a tolerable Avagon-maker, and can chop timber, make fence, and manage a small farm if required, is always sure of Avork and fair recompense; while he or she Avho can keej) books or teach music fairly. 400 ECLECTIO SERIES. but knows how to do nothing else, is in constant danger of falling into involuntary idleness and consequent beggary. It is a broad, general truth, that no boy was ever yet inured to daily, systematic, productive labor in field or shop throughout the latter half of his minority, who did not prove a useful man, and was not able to find work whenever he wished it. Yet to the ample and constant employment of a whole community one prerequisite is indispensable, — that a va- riety of pursuits shall have been created or naturalized therein. A people who have but a single source of profit are iniiformly poor, not because that vocation is necessarily ill-chosen, but because no single calling can emploj' and reward the varied capacities of male and female, old and young, robust and feeble. Thus a lumbering or fishing region with us is apt to have a large proportion of needy inhabitants ; and the same is true of a region exclusively devoted to cotton-growing or gold-mining. A diversity of pursuits is indispensable to general activity and enduring prosperity. Sixty or seventy years ago, what was then the District, and is now the State, of Maine, was a proverb in New England for the poverty of its j^eople, mainly because they were so largely engaged in timber-cutting. The great grain-growing, wheat-exporting districts of the Russian empire have a poor and rude people for a like reason. Thus the industry of Massachusetts is immensely more pro- ductive per head than that of North Carolina, or even that of Indiana, as it will cease to be whenever manufactures shall have been diflJiised over our whole country, as they must and will be. In Massachusetts half the women and nearly half the children add by their daily labor to the aggregate of realized wealth ; in North Carolina and in Indiana little wealth is produced save by the labor of men, including boys of fifteen or upward. When this disparity shall have ceased, its consequence will also disappear. SIXTH READER. 401 CXV. THE LAST DAYS OF HERCULANEUM. Edwin Atherstone was born at Nottingham, England, about 1788, and became known to the literary world chiefly through two poems, "The Last Days of Herculaneum " and "The Fall of Nineveh." Both poems are'written in blank verse, and are reinarkable for Iheir splendor of diction and great descriptive power. Atherstone is compared to Thomson, whom he resembles somewhat in style. There was a man, A Roman soldier, for some daring deed That trespassed on the laws, in dungeon low Chained down. His was a noble spirit, rough, But generous, and brave, and kind. He had a son; it was a rosy boy, A little faithful copy of his sire, In face and gesture. From infancy, the child Had been his father's solace and his care. Every sport The father shared and heightened. But at length. The rigorous law had grasped him, and condemned To fetters and to darkness. The captive's lot. He felt in all its bitterness : the walls Of his deep dungeon answered many a sigh And heart-heaved groan. His tale was known, and touched His jailer with compassion; and the boy. Thenceforth a frequent visitor, beguiled His father's lingering hours, and brought a balm With his loved presence, that in every wound Dropped healing. But, in this terrific hour, He was a poisoned arrow in the breast Where he had been a cure. 6.-34. 402 ECLECTIC SERIES. With earliest morn Of that first day of darkness and amaze, He came. The iron door was closed — for them Never to open more ! The day, the night Dragged slowly by; nor did they know the fate Impending o'er the city. "Well they heard The pent-up thunders in the earth beneath, And felt its giddy rocking; and the air Grew hot at length, and thick; but in his straw The boy was sleeping: and the father hoped The earthquake might pass by: nor would he Avake From his sound rest the unfearing child, nor tell The dangers of their state. On his low couch The fettered soldier sank, and, with deep awe, Listened the fearful sounds : with upturned 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 Clanked loud, although he moved not; deep in earth Groaned unimaginable thunders ; sounds, Fearful and ominous, arose and died. Like the sad meanings of November's wind. In the blank midnight. Deepest horror chilled His blood that burned before ; cold, clammy sweats Came o'er him ; then anon, a fiery thrill Shot through his veins. Now, on his couch he shrunk. And shivered as in fear; now, upright leaped. As though he heard the battle trumpet sound. And longed to cope with death. He slept, at last, A troubled, dreamy sleep. Well had he slept SIXTH READER. 403 Never to waken more! His hours are few, But terrible his agony. Soon the storm Burst forth ; the lightnings glanced ; the air Shook with the thunders. They awoke ; they sprung Amazed upon their feet. The dungeon glowed 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. With intensest avyo, The soldier's frame was filled; and many a thought Of strange foreboding hurried through his mind, As underneath he felt the fevered earth Jarring and lifting; and the massive walls. Heard harshly grate and strain : yet knew he not, While evils undefined and yet to come Glanced through his thoughts, what deep and cureless wound Fate had already given. — Where, man of woe! Where, wretched father! is thy boy? Thou call'st His name in vain : — he can not answer thee. Loudly the father called upon his child : No voice replied. Trembling and anxiously He searched their couch of straw ; with headlong haste Trod round his stinted limits, and, low bent, Gi'oped darkling on the earth: — no child was there. Again he called : again, at farthest stretch Of his accursed fetters, till the blood Seemed bursting from his ears, and from his eyes Fire flashed, he strained wath arm extended far. And fingers widely spread, greedy to touch 404 ECLECTIC SERIES. Though but his idol's garment. Useless toil ! Yet still renewed : still round and round he goes, And strains, and snatches, and with dreadful cries Calls on his boy. Mad frenzy fires 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. Raging to break his toils, — to and fro bounds. But see! the ground is opening; — a blue light Mounts, gently waving, — noiseless; — thin and cold It seems, and like a rainbow tint, not flame; But by its luster, on the earth outstretched, Behold the lifeless child! his dress is singed. And, o'er his face serene, a darkened line Points out the lightning's track. The father saw, And all his fury fled : — a dead calm fell That instant on him: — speechless — fixed — he stood, And with a look that never wandered, gazed Intensely on the corse. Those laughing eyes Were not yet closed, — and round those ruby lips The Avonted smile returned. Silent and pale The fiither stands: — no tear is in his eye: — The thunders bellow; — but he hears them not: — The ground lifts like a sea ; — he knows it not : — The strong walls grind and gape: — the vaulted roof Takes shape like bubble 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. SIXTH READER. 406 It Avill be given. Look ! how the rolling ground, At every swell, nearer and still more near Moves toward the father's outstretched arm his boy. Once he has touched his garment : — how his eye Lightens with love, and hope, and anxious fears ! Ha, see! he has him now! — he clasps him round; 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 Avas wont To lie when sleeping; and resigned, aAvaits Undreaded death. And death came soon and swift And pangless. The huge pile sank down at once Lito the opening earth. Walls — arches — roof — And deep foundation stones — all — mingling — fell! Notes. — Herculaneum and Pompeii were cities of Italy, which were desti'oyed by an eruiDtion of Vesuvius in the year 79 A. D., being entirely buried under ashes and lava. During the last century tliey have been dug out to a considerable extent, and many of the streets, bviildings, and utensils have been found in a state of perfect preservation. CXVI. HOW MEN REASON. My friend, the Professor, whom I have mentioned to you once or tAvice, told me yesterday that somebody had been abusing him in some of the journals of his calling. I told him that I did n't doubt he deserved it ; that I hof)ed he did deserve a little abuse occasionally, and Avould for a number of years to come; that nobody could do any thing to make his neighbors Aviser or better Avithout being liable to abuse for it; especially that people hated to have their 406 ECLECTIC SERIES'. little mistakes made fun of, and perhaps he had been doing something of the kind. The Professor smiled. Now, said I, hear what I am going to say. It Avill not take many years to bring you to the period of life Avhen men, at least the majority of writing and talking men, do nothing but praise. Men, like peaches and pears, grow sweet a little while before they' begin to decay. I don't know what it is, — Avhether a spontaneous change, mental or bodily, or whether it is through experience of the thank- lessness of critical honesty, — but it is a fact, that most writers, except sour and unsuccessful ones, get tired of finding fault at about the time when they are beginning to grow old. As a general thing, I would not give a great deal for the fair words of a critic, if he is himself an author, over fifty years of age. At thirty, we are all trying to cut our names in big letters upon the walls of this tenement of life ; twenty years later, we have carved it, or shut up our jack-knives. Then we are ready to help others, and care less to hinder any, because nobody's elbows are in our way. So I am glad you have a little life left; you will be sac- charine enough in a few years. Some of the softening effects of advancing age have struck me very much in what I have heard or seen here and elsewhere. I just now spoke of the sweetening process that authors undergo. Do you know that in the gradual passage from maturity to helplessness the harshest charac- ters sometimes have a period in which they are gentle and placid as young children ? I have heard it said, but I can not be sponsor for its truth, that the famous chieftain, Lochiel, was rocked in a cradle like a baby, in his old age. An old man, whose studies had been of the severest scholastic kind, used to love to hear little nursery-stories read over and over to him. One who saw the Duke of Wellington in his last years describes him as very gentle in his aspect and demeanor. I remember a person of singu- SIXTH HEADER. 407 larly stern and lofty bearing who became remarkably gracious and easy in all his ways in the later period of his life. And that leads me to say that men often remind me of pears in their way of coming to maturity. Some are ripe at twenty, like human Jargonelles, and must be made the most of, for their day is soon over. Some come into their perfect condition late, like the autumn kinds, and they last better than the summer fruit. And some, that, like the Winter-NeHs, have been hard and uninviting until all the rest have had their season, get their glow and perfume long after the frost and snow have done their worst with , the orchards. Beware of rash criticisms; the rough and stringent fruit you condemn may be an autumn or a winter pear, and that which you picked up beneath the same bough in August may have been only its worm-eaten windfalls. Milton was a Saint-Germain Avith a graft of the roseate Early-Catherine. Rich, juicy, lively, fragrant, rus- set-skinned old Chaucer was an Easter-Beurre ; the buds of a new summer were swelling when he ri^^ened. — Solines. Notes. — The above selection is from the "Autocrat of the Breakfast-table." Lochiel was a celebrated Scottish chief. The Duke of Welling'ton (b. 1769, d. 1852) was the most celebrated of English generals. He won great renown in India and in the " Peninsular War," and commanded the allied forces when Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo. Easter-Beurre, Saint-G-ermain, "Winter -Nelis, Early- Catherine and Jargonelles are the names of certain vari- eties of jDears. Milton. See biographical notice on page 312. Chaucer, Geofirey (b. 1328, d. 1400), is often called "The Father of English Poetry." He was the first poet buried in Westminster Abbey. He was a pi'olific writer, but his "Can- terbury Tales" is by far the best known of his works. 408 ECLECTIC SERIES. CXVII. THUNDER-STORM ON THE ALPS, Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwell in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet, as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. All heaven and earth are still — though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep — All heaven and earth arc still : from the high host Of stars, to the lulled lake and mountain-coast, All is concentered in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being, and a sense Of that which is of all Creator and defense. The sky is changed! and such a change! O night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along. From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud. But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shi'oud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud! And this is in the night. — Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be SIXTH READER. 409 A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,— r A portion of the tempest and of thee! How the lit lake shines, — a phosphoric sea! And the big rain comes dancing to the earth ! And now agam, 'tis black, — and now, the glee Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth, As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth. Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between Heights which appear as lovers who have parted In hate, whose mining depths so intervene. That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted; Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted, Love was the very root of the fond rage. Which blighted their life's bloom, and then^ — departed! Itself expired, but leaving them an age Of years, all winters, — war within themselves to wage. Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way, The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand ! For here, not one, but many make their play. And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand, Flashing and cast around ! Of all the band. The brightest through these parted hills hath forked His lightnings, — as if he did understand, That in such gaps as desolation worked. There, the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurked. — Byron. Note. — Lake Leman (or Lake of Geneva) is in the south- western part of Switzerland, sej^arating it in part from Savoy. The Rhone flows through it, entering by a deep narrow gap, with mountain groups on either hand, eight or nine thousand feet above the water. The scenery about the lake is mag- nificent, the Jura mountains bordering it on the north-west, and the Alps lying on the south and east. «.— 35. 410 ECLECTIC SERIES. CXVIII. ORIGIN OF PROPERTY. Sir ■William Blackstone, 172;^17S0, was the son of a silk merchant, and was born in London. He studied with great success at Oxford, and was admitted to the bar in 1745. At first he could not obtain business enough in his profession to support himself, and for a time relinquished practice, and lectured at Oxford. He afterwards returned to London, and resumed his practice with great success, still continuing to lecture at Oxford. He was elected to Parliament in 1761 ; and in 1770 was made a justice of the Court of Common Pleas, which office he held till his death. Blackstone's fame rests upon his "Commentaries on the Laws of En- gland," published about 1769. He was a man of great ability, sound learning, unflagging industry, and moral integrity. His great work is still a common text-book in the study of law. In the beginning of the world, we are informed by Holy Writ, the all-bountiful Creator gave to man dominion over all the earth, and "over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth." This is the only true and solid founda- tion of man's dominion over external things, whatever airy, metaphysical notions may have been started by fanciful writers upon this subject. The earth, therefore, and all things therein, are the general property of all mankind, exclusive of other beings, from the immediate gift of the Creator. And while the earth continued bare of inhab- itants, it is reasonable to suppose that all was in common among them, and that every one took from the public stock, to his own use, such things as his immediate necessi- ties required. These general notions of property were then sufficient to answer all the purposes of human life ; and might, perhaps, still have answered them, had it been possible for mankind to have remained in a state of primeval simplicity, in which "all things were common to him." Not that this communion of goods seems ever to have been applicable, even in the earliest ages, to aught but the substance of the thing; nor could it be extended to the use of it. For, by the law of nature and reason, he who first began to use SIXTH READER. 41 1 it, acquired therein a kind of transient property, that lasted so long as he was using it, and no longer. Or, to speak with greater precision, the right of possession continued for the same time, only, that the act of possession lasted. Thus, the ground was in common, and no part of it was the permanent property of any man in particular ; yet, who- ever was in the occupation of any determined spot of it, for rest, for shade, or the like, acquired for the time a sort of ownership, from which it would have been unjust and con- trary to the law of nature to have driven him by force; but, the instant that he quitted the use or occupation of it, another might seize it without injustice. Thus, also, a vine or other tree might be said to be in common, as all men were equally entitled to its produce ; and yet, any private individual might gain the sole property of the fruit Avhich he had gathered for his own repast : a doctrine well illus- trated by Cicero, who compares the world to a great theater, which is common to the public, and yet the place which any man has taken is, for the time, his own. But when mankind increased in number, craft, and ambition, it became necessary to entertain conceptions of a iliore permanent dominion ; and to appropriate to individ- uals not the immediate use only, but the very substance of the thing to be used. Otherwise, innumerable tumults must have arisen, and the good order of the world been continually broken and disturbed, while a variety of per- sons were striving who should get the first occupation of the same thing, or disputing Avhich of them had actually gained it. As human life also grew more and more refined, abundance of conveniences were devised to render it more easy, commodious, and agreeable ; as habitations for shelter and safety, and raiment for warmth and decency. But no man would be at the trouble to provide either, so long as he had only an usufructuary property in them, which was to cease the instant that he quitted possession ; if, as soon as he walked out of his tent or pulled off bis garment, 412 ECLECTIC SERIES. the next stranger who came by woukl have a right to in- habit the one and to wear the other. In the case of habitations, in particular, it was natural to observe that even the brute creation, to whom every thing else was in common, maintained a kind of permanent property in their dwellings, esjoecially for the protection of their young ; that the birds of the air had nests, and the beasts of the fields had caverns, the invasion of which they esteemed a very flagrant injustice, and would sacrifice their lives to preserve them. Hence a projDerty was soon estab- lished in every man's house and homestead ; which seem to have been originally mere temporary huts or movable cabins, suited to the design of Providence for more speedily peopling the earth, and suited to the wandering life of their owners, before any extensive property in the soil or ground was established. There can be no doubt but that movables of every kind became sooner approj)riated than the permanent, substantial soil ; partly because they were more susceptible of a long occuj^ancy, which might be continued for months together without any sensible interruption, and at length, by usage, ripen into an established right; but, principally, because few of them could be fit for use till improved and mel- iorated by the bodily labor of the occupant; which bodily labor, bestowed upon any subject which before lay in com- mon to all men, is universally allowed to give the fairest and most reasonable title to an exclusive property therein. The article of food was a more immediate call, and therefore a more early consideration. Such as were not contented with the spontaneous product of the earth, sought for a more solid refreshment in the flesh of beasts, which they obtained by hunting. But the frequent dis- appointments incident to that method of provision, induced them to gather together such animals as were of a more tame and sequacious nature, and to establish a permanent property in their flocks and herds, in order to sustain SIXTH READER. 413 themselves in a loss precarious manner, partly hy the milk of the dams, and partly by the flesh of the young. The support of these their cattle made the article of water also a very important point. And, therefore, the book of Genesis, (the most venerable monument of an- tiquity, considered merely with a view to history,) will furnish us with frequent instances of violent contentions concerning wells; the exclusive property of which appears to have been established in the first digger or occupant, even in places where the ground and herbage remained yet in common. Thus, we find Abraham, who was but a sojourner, asserting his right to a well in the country of Abimelech, and exacting an oath for his security " because he had digged that well." And Isaac, about ninety years afterwards, reclaimed this his father's property ; and, after much contention with the Philistines, was suflfered to enjoy it in peace. All this while, the soil and pasture of the earth re- mained still in common as before, and open to every occu- pant ; except, perhaps, in the neighborhood of towns, where the necessity of a sole and exclusive property in lands, (for the sake of agriculture,) was earlier felt, and therefore more readily comj^lied with. Otherwise, when the multi- tude of men and cattle had consumed every convenience on one spot of ground, it was deemed a natural right to seize upon and occuj^y such other lands as would more easily supply their necessities. We have a striking example of this in the history of Abraham and his nephew Lot. When their joint sub- stance became so great that pasture and other conveniences grew scarce, the natural consequence was that a strife arose between their servants ; so that it was no longer practicable to dwell together. This contention, Abraham thus endeav- ored to compose: "Let there be no strife, I pray thee, be- tween me and thee. Is not the whole land before thee? Separate thyself, I pray thee, from me. If thou wilt take 414 ECLECTIC SERIES. the left hand, then I will go to the right; or if thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the left." This plainly implies an acknowledged right in either to occupy whatever ground he pleased that was not preoccupied by other tribes. " And Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of Jordan, that it was well watered every-where, even as the garden of the Lord. Then Lot chose him all the plain of Jordan, and journeyed east; and Abraham dwelt in the land of Canaan." As the world by degrees grew more populous, it daily became more difficult to find out new spots to inhabit, without encroaching upon former occupants; and, by con- stantly occupying the same individual spot, the fruits of the earth were consumed, and its spontaneous products de- stroyed, without any provision for future supjily or succes- sion. It, therefore, became necessary to pursue some regu- lar method of providing a constant subsistence; and this necessity produced, or at least promoted and encouraged the art of agriculture. And the art of agriculture, by a regular connection and consequence, introduced and estab- lished the idea of a more permanent property in the soil than had hitherto been received and adopted. It was clear that the earth would not produce her fruits in sufficient quantities without the assistance of tillage ; but who would be at the pains of tilling it, if another might watch an opportunity to seize upon and enjoy the product of his industry, art and labor? Had not, therefore, a sep- arate property in lands, as well as movables, been vested in some individuals, the world must have continued a forest, and men have been mere animals of prey. Whereas, now, (so graciously has Providence interwoven our duty and our happiness together,) the result of this very necessity has been the ennobling of the human species, by giving it opportunities of improving its rational, as well as of exert- ing its natural faculties. Necessity begat property; and, in order to insure that SIXTH READER. 415 property, recourse was had to civil society, which brought along with it a long train of inseparable concomitants: states, government, laws, punishments, and the public exer- cise of religious duties. Thus connected together, it was found that a part only of society was sufficient to provide, by their manual labor, for the necessary subsistence of all ; and leisure was given to others to cultivate the human mind, to invent useful arts, and to lay the foundations of science. Note. — Cicero. See note on page 156, CXIX. BATTLE OF WATERLOO. There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell. Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell; But hush ! hark ! — a deep sound strikes like a rising knell ! Did ye not hear it? — No; 'twas but the Avind, 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 chasa 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! 416 ECLECTIC SEBIES. Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which, but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partiugs, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated: who would guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise. And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips — "The foe! They