Transcriber's Note:
Welcome to the schoolroom of 1900, The moral tone is
plain. "She is kind to the old blind man."
The exercises are still suitable, and perhaps more helpful
than some contemporary alternatives. Much is left to the
teacher. Explanations given in the text are enough to get
started teaching a child to read and write. Counting in
Roman numerals is included as a bonus in the form of lesson
numbers.
The "non-ASCI" text remains as images. The "non-ASCI"
text is approximated in text boxes to right of the image.
The form of contractions includes a space. The
contemporary word "don't" was rendered as "do n't".
The author, not listed in the text is William Holmes
McGuffey.
Don Kostuch
ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES.
McGUFFEY'S®
FIFTH
ECLECTIC READER.
REVISED EDITION.
McGuffey Editions and Colophon are Trademarks of
John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
New York-Chichester- Weinheim-Brisbane- Singapore-Toronto
Copyright, 1879, by VAN ANTWERP, BRAGG & CO.
Copyright, 1896, by AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.
Copyright, 1907 and 1920, by H. H. VAIL.
M'G. REV 5TH EC.
EP 310
PREFACE.
The plan of the revision of McGUFFEY'S FIFTH READER is
the same as thai pursued in the other books of the REVISED
SERIES. The book has been considerably enlarged, but the new
pieces have been added or substituted only after the most careful
consideration, and where the advantages to be derived were
assured.
It has been the object to obtain as wide a range of leading
authors as possible, lo present the best specimens of style, to
insure interest in the subjects, to impart valuable information, and
lo exert a decided and healthful moral influence. Thus the
essential characteristics of McGUFFEY'S READERS have been
carefully kepi intact.
The preliminary exercises have been retained, and are amply
sufficient for drill in articulation, inflection, etc. The additional
exercises on these subjects, formerly inserted between the lessons,
have been omitted lo make room for other valuable features of the
REVISED SERIES.
A full understanding of the text is necessary in order to read it
properly. As all the books of reference required for this purpose
are not within the reach of the majority of pupils, full explanatory
notes have been given, which, it is believed, will add greatly not
only to the interest of the reading lessons, but also to their
usefulness from an instructive point of view.
(iii)
iv PREFACE.
The definitions of the more difficult words have been given, as
formerly; and the pronunciation has been indicated by diacritical
marks, in conformity with the preceding books of the REVISED
SERIES.
Particular attention is invited to the notices of authors.
Comparatively few pupils have the opportunity of making a
separate study of English and American literature, and the
carefully prepared notices in the REVISED SERIES are designed,
therefore, to supply as much information in regard to the leading
authors as is possible in the necessarily limited space assigned.
The publishers have desired to illustrate McGUFFEY'S
READERS in a manner worthy of the text and of the high favor in
which they are held throughout the United States. The most
celebrated designers and engravers of the country have been
employed for this purpose.
It has been the privilege of the publishers to submit the
REVISIED SERIES to numerous eminent educators in all parts of
the country. To the careful reviews and criticisms of these
gentlemen is due, in a large measure, the present form of
McGUFFEY'S READERS. The value of these criticisms, coming
from practical sources of the highest authority, can not well be
overestimated, and the publishers lake this occasion to express
their thanks and their indebtedness to all who have thus kindly
assisted them in this work.
Especial acknowledgment is due to Messrs. Houghton, Osgood
& Co. for their permission to make liberal selections from their
copyright editions of many of the foremost American authors
whose works they publish.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTORY MATTER.
SUBJECT. PAGE
L PRELIMINARY REMARKS 9
II. ARTICULATION 9
III. INFLECTIONS 15
IV. ACCENT 26
V. EMPHASIS 27
VI. MODULATION 30
VII. POETIC PAUSES 33
EXERCISES 34
SELECTIONS IN PROSE AND POETRY.
TITLE.
AUTHOR. PAGE
1.
The Good Reader
39
2.
The Bluebell
43
3.
The Gentle Hand
T. S. Arthur.
44
4.
The Grandfather
C. G. Eastman.
49
5.
A Boy on a Farm
C. D. Warner.
50
6.
The Singing Lesson
Jean Ingelow.
52
7.
Do not Meddle
54
8-
Work
Eliza Cook.
59
9.
The Maniac
60
10.
Robin Redbreast
W. AlJingham.
62
11.
The Fish I Did n't Catch
Whittier.
63
12.
It Snows
Mrs. S.J. Hale.
67
13.
Respect for the Sabbath Rewarded
69
14.
The Sands o' Dee
Charles KingsJey.
71
15.
Select Paragraphs
Bible.
72
16.
The Corn Song
Whittier.
74
17 .
The Venomous Worm
John Russell.
77
18.
The Festal Board
78
19.
How to Tell Bad News
81
(V)
vi
CONTENTS
TITLE.
AUTHOR.
PAGE
20.
The Battle of Blenheim
Southey.
82
21.
1 Pity Them
85
22.
An Elegy on Madam Blaize
Goldsmith,
87
23.
King Charles 11. and William Penn
Mason L. Weems.
88
24.
What 1 Live For
91
25.
The Righteous Never Forsaken
92
26.
Abou Ben Adhem
Leigh HunL
95
27.
Lucy Forrester
John Wilson,
96
28.
The Reaper and the Flowers,
Longfellow,
101
29.
The Town Pump
Hawthorne.
103
30.
Good Night
Peter Parley.
108
31.
An Old-fashioned Girl
Louisa M. Alcott.
ilO
32.
My Mother's Hands
113
33.
The Discontented Pendulum.
Jane Taylor.
114
34.
The Death of the Flowers
Bryant.
117
35.
The Thunderstorm
Irving.
119
36.
April Day
Mrs. C. A. Southey.
121
37.
The Tea Rose
123
38.
The Cataract of Lodore
Southey.
128
39.
The Bobolink
Irving.
132
40.
Robert of Lincoln
Bryant.
135
41.
Rebellion in Massachusetts State Prison J. T. Buckingham.
138
42.
Faithless Nelly Gray
Hood.
143
43.
The Generous Russian Peasant
Nikolai Karamzin.
146
44
Forty Years Ago
148
45.
Mrs. Caudle's Lecture
Douglas Jerrold.
15!
46.
The Village Blacksmith
Longfellow.
154
47.
The Relief of Lucknow
"London Times."
156
48.
The Snowstorm
Thomson.
159
49.
Behind Time
161
50.
The Old Sampler
Mrs. M. E. Sansster.
163
51.
The Goodness of God
Bible.
167
52.
My Mother
170
53.
The Hour of Prayer
Mrs. F, D. Hemans.
171
54.
The Will
172
55.
The Nose and the Eyes
Cowper.
176
56.
An Iceberg
L. L. Noble.
177
57.
About Quail
W. P. Hawes.
180
58.
The Blue and the Gray
F, M. Finch.
183
59.
The Machinist's Return
Washinglon "Capital."
185
60.
Make Way for Liberty
James Montgomery.
189
61.
The English Skylark
Elihu Burritt.
[93
62.
How Sleep the Brave
William Collins.
!95
63.
The Rainbow
John Keble.
195
64.
65.
66.
67.
68.
69.
70.
71.
72.
73.
74.
75.
76.
77.
78.
79.
80.
SI.
82.
83.
84.
85.
86.
87.
88.
89.
90.
91.
92.
93.
94.
95.
96.
97.
98.
99.
100.
101.
102.
103.
104.
105.
106.
107.
CONTENTS.
TITLE.
Supposed Speech of John Adams
The Rising
Control your Temper
William Tell
William Tell
The Crazy Engineer
The Herilage
No Excellence without Labor
The Old House Clock
The Examination.
The Isle of Long Ago
The Boston Massacre
Death of the Beautiful
Snow Falling
Squeers's Method
The Gift of Empty Hands
Capturing the Wild Horse
Sowing and Reaping
Taking Comfort
Calling the Roll
Turtle Soup
The Best Kind of Revenge
The Soldier of the Rhine
The Winged Worshipers
The Peevish Wife
The Rainy Day
Break, Break, Break
AUTHOR.
Daniel Webster.
T. R. Read.
Dr. John Todd.
Sheridan Knowles.
Sheridan Knowles.
Lowell.
William Wirt.
D, P. Thompson.
B. F. Taylor.
Bancroft.
Mrs. E. L. Follen.
J. J. Piatt.
Dickens.
Mrs. S. M. B. Piatt.
Irving.
Adelaide Anne Procter.
Whittier.
Shepherd .
C. F. Briggs.
Mrs. C. E. S. Norton.
Charles Sprague.
Maria Edgeworth.
Longfellow.
Tennvson.
Transportation and Planting of Seeds H. D. Thoreau.
Spring Again
Religion the only Basis of Society
Rock Me to Sleep
Man and the Inferior Animals
The Blind Men and the Elephant
A Home Scene
The Light of Other Days
A Chase in the English Channel
Burial of Sir John Moore
Little Victories
The Character of a Happy Life
The Art of Discouragement
The Mariner's Dream
The Passenger Pigeon
The Country Life
The Virginians
Mrs. Celia Thaxter.
W. E. Channing.
Mrs. E. A. Allen.
Jane Taylor.
J. G. Saxe.
D. G. Mitchell.
Moore.
Cooper.
Charles Wolfe.
Harriet Martineau.
Sir Henry Wotton.
Arthur Helps.
William Dimond.
Audubon.
R. H. Stoddard.
Thackeray.
VII
PAGE
196
200
204
207
216
22]
228
230
232
231
239
241
245
246
247
252
253
258
259
262
263
266
269
11\
213
276
111
HE
282
284
286
288
290
292
295
296
301
302
308
309
312
311
319
321
VIII
CONTENTS.
TITLE.
AUTHOR. PAGE
108. Minor's Ledge
109. Hamlet.
1 10. Dissertation on Roast Pig
I U. A Pen Picture
112. The Great Voices
113. A Picture of Human Life
114. A Summer Longing
115. Fate
1 16. The Bible the Best of Classics
117. My Mother's Bible
Fitz-James O'Brien, 326
Shakespeare. 328
Charles Lamb. 333
William Black. 338
C, T. Brooks. 342
Samuel Johnson. 343
George Arnold. 348
Bret Harte. 349
T. S. Grimke. 350
G. P. Morris. 351
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
SUBJECT.
The Good Reader
The Fish 1 Did n't Catch
The Corn Song
I Pity Them.
The Town Pump
Good Night
The Tea Rose
Forty Years Ago
The Old Sampler
The Old Sampler
About Quail
The Crazy Engineer
Squeers's Method
Turtle Soup
Hamlet
ARTIST.
PAGE
H. F. Farny.
39
H. F. Farny.
65
E. K. Foole.
76
W, L. Sheppard.
86
Howard Pyle.
!05
J. A. Knapp.
109
C, S. Reinhart,
124
H. Fenn.
149
Mary Hallock Foote.
165
Mary Hallock Foole.
!66
Alexander Pope.
ISI
H. F. Farny.
222
Howard Pyle.
249
W, L. Sheppard.
264
Alfred Fredericks,
330
INTRODUCTION.
!• PRELIMINARY REMARKS.
The great object lo be accomplished in reading, as a rhetorical
exercise, is to convey to the hearer, fully and clearly, the ideas and
feelings of the writer.
In order to do this, it is necessary that a selection should be
carefully studied by the pupil before he attempts to read it. In
accordance with this view, a preliminary rule of importance is the
following:
RULE L - Before attempting to read a lesson, the learner
should make himself fully acquainted with the subject as treated of
in that lesson, and endeavor to make the thought and feeling and
sentiments of the writer his own.
REMARK. --When he has thus identified himself with the
author, he has the substance of all rules in his own mind. It is by
going to nature that we find rules. The child or the savage orator
never mistakes in inflection or emphasis or modulation. The best
speakers and readers are those who follow the impulse of nature,
or most closely imitate it as observed in others.
IL ARTICULATION.
Articulation is the utterance of the elementary sounds of a
language, and of their combinations.
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.
(9)
10
ECLECTIC SERIES.
ELEMENTARY SOUNDS. - VOCALS.
Vocals are sounds which consisi of pure tone only. A diplrffioiig is a
union of two vocals, commencing with one and ending with the other.
DIRECTION.— Put the lips, teeth, tongue, and palate in their proper
position; pronounce the word in the chart forcibly, and with the falling
inflection, several times in succession; then drop the subvocal or aspirate
sounds which precede or follow the vocal, and repeat the vocals alone.
Table of Vocals.
Long
Vocals.
a,
as in hate.
e,
as in
6rr,
§.,
'' hSre.
h
ic
pme.
^
'' far.
o,
it
no.
i>.
*' pass.
Q,
i i
tube.
^
** fit"-
u,
li
barn-
^,.
" eve.
Short
Vocqh.
oo
H
^ool.
a,
ag m mat,
n,
aa in
hSt.
^
'' m6t
•—
1 1
fls.
1*
'' it. J
00-
i.i
book.
Diphthongs.
Vo ca 1
ti!^ ii\
Vocit!
as h\
oi. oy
oil. bo\
oil. I> w
11 f, H w
Long Vocals.
Vocal
as in
Vocal
as in
a
hate
e
err
a
hare
i
pine
a
far
no
a
pass
u
lube
li
fdl
u
bum
e
eve
oo
cool
Short Vocals
Vocal
as in
Vocal
as in
a
mat
hot
e
met
u
us
i
it
oo
book
REMARK l,--ln this table, the short sounds, except u, are nearly or
ciiiite the same in quality as certain of the long sounds. The difference
consists chiefly in quantity.
REMARK 2. The vocals are often represented by other letters or
combinations of letters than those used in the table; for instance, u is
represented by ai in hail, ca in slcak, etc.
REMARK 3. --As a general rule, the long vocals and the diphthongs
should he articulated with a full, clear utterance: but the short vocals
have a sharp, distinct, and almost explosive utterance.
FIFTH READER
11
SUBVOCALS AND ASPIRATES.
Subvocals are tliose sounds in wliich the vocalized breath is more or
less obstructed.
Aspirates consisi of breath only, modified by the vocal organs.
Words ending with subvocaj sounds should be selected for practice on
the subvocals; words beginning or ending with aspirate sounds may be
used for practice on the aspirates. Pronounce these words forcibly and
distinctly several times in succession; then drop the other sounds, and
repeal Ihe subvocals and aspirates alone. Let the class repeat Ihe words
and elements at first in concert, then separately.
Subvocals.
Asp
irates.
b,
as in
babe.
P.
as in
i-ap.
d,
bSd.
t,
^t.
nag.
^
bo^k.
%
judge.
t%f
rich.
',
moye.
t
life.
fli,
wTfli.
^1
Smith.
z.
buzz.
8»
hiss.
«.
azure
(?i.zh'iire).
sh,
rQsh.
Table of Subvocals and Aspirates.
Ssifivociif
i!.s in
Siih vi>Li.!l
as in
b
babe
P
rap
d
bad
1
at
g
naiz
].
book
i
judge
ch
rich
V
move
1
life
th
with
111
Smith
z
buzz
s
hiss
z
azure(azh'ure)
sh
rush
1
REM ARK. --These sixteen sounds make eight pairs of cogimii's . 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 Ihis by experimeni, and then practice on these
cognates.
The following subvocals and aspirates have no cognates.
SuEVOCAIiS.
I, as in mill.
r,
as in rula
jHj *^ Tl'fn.
^
'' car.
n^ *-^ ffln.
w.
** wi'n.
ng, *' s^ag.
J.
'' jat.
AaMKAJ'BS.
h^ u f n t&L.
1
TVll
^ la TChfln.
SUBVOCALS.
Subvocal
as in
Subvocal
as in
1
mill
r
nile
m
rim
r
car
n
run
w
win
ng
sing
y
yet
ASPIRATES
Aspirate
as in
Aspirate
as in
h
hat 1
wh
when
12
ECLECTIC SERIES.
SUBSTITUTES.
Substitutes are characters used to represent sounds ordinarily
represented by other characJeis,
TABLE
OF SUBSTITUTES.
^ for
5, JB in what.
y for T,
aa in hyiniL
6 "
a, '
fti^i-e-
? ^" ».
B4
9lte.
e "
a, *
Irg^iit.
fl "^ K
:<,
^Sp.
K .t
e, '
pol^5&.
^Ti *' ah,
4,t
Hia^bm^
I '<
5, '
sTr.
*L '' fe,
et
eh ilia.
6 "
iS. '
!^cn.
g -* ].
LA
■E^g-g.
o "
00, *
tf?^
^ ' ng,
ke
rluk.
5 li
TO, '
wgojd.
S '^ 2,
1 L
ift$e.
"
fti '
ig&riL
s '^ sb,
([
sntE.
"
fl, '
w5rk.
5 '" £2.
( 1-
ejiTBilne.
TJ '*
■flO, *
pull.
&h ^' f,
iL
mu^h.
* "
50, '
Tjide.
ph " f.
Li
sylph.
r "
qu for kw,
as m qiilok.
l*^
pi que >
FAULTS TO BE REMEDIED.
DIRECTION, --Give to each sound, to each syllable, and to each word
its full, distinct, and appropriate utterance.
For the purpose of avoiding Ihe more common errors under this head,
observe the following rules:
RULE lL--Avoid Xh&oiiiission of unaccented vowels.
EXAMPLES.
IWlWFW-ECT. OFiaCT,
tUCCSZECT.
■CTTTllllM-
Sep-' rate /or ^ep-a-t^A^r
^^dmt
for ev^-^tieat-
met-TicU '^ caei^ric-flL
memory
■* laem-ojy.
^p«a,r ^' fip-pear.
'pin -Lor
** K'-piji-iQii.
coiu-p'taflt *' com-p^-teoL
pr^pOae
" pr<i-poae.
pr*cede ^* pre-ctids-
graa'kir
" gran*it-lar^
^ape-cl&l '^* ea-p€-cial.
par-tjc'lar
^« pBi--lic-u-laCr
1
Substitute
for
as in
Substitute
for
as in
a
o
what
y
i
hymn
e
a
there
c
s
cite
e
a
freight
c
k
cap
i
e
police
ch
sh
machine
i
e
sir
ch
k
chaos
o
u
son
g
i
cage
o
oo
to
n
ng
rink
o
oo
would
s
z
rose
o
a
corn
s
ah
sure
o
u
work
X
gz
examine
u
oo
pull
gli
f
laugh
u
oo
rude
ph
f
sylph
y
i
my
qu
k
pique
qu
kw
quick
1
1
Incorrect
Correct
1
Incorrect
Correct
Sep'rate
sep-i^-rate
Evident
ev-;-dent
met-ric'l
met-ric-i/l
mem'rv
mem-o-rv
pear
i^p-pear
'pin-ion
(j-pin-ion
com-p'tenl
com-pt'-tent
pr'pose
pr^j-pose
pr'cede
prt'-cede
oran'lar
^ran-;/-lar
'spe-cial
t'S-pe-cial
par-tic'lar
par-tic-/^-Iar
1
FIFTH READER.
13
RULE III.— Avoid sounding i/icon-ecf!y the unaccented vowels.
EXAMPLES.
Sep-fF^te for fi6p-a-rate-
ineb-cic-aL
m-eb-rjc-ul *
coin-per-tant '
(lliTD'-mand '
Qb-atw-t^uata ^
op-peai.
oonn-pt?-tent,
de-uiuiiil-
ifp-pm-iQii
Jhlwp-OSfl
gra.n-r^-iaif
pai-tiu-elar
ov-ffl'-dent
" o-pm-lon.
" par-tLc-u-lax^
REMARK L— In correcting errors of lliis kind in words of more than
one syllable, it is very importanr to avoid a fault which is the natural
consequence of an effort to articulate correctly. Thus, in endeavoring to
sound correctly the^? in met'ric-af . Ihe pupil is very apt to say met-yic-al'
accenting Ihe last syllable instead of the firsl.
REMARK 2. -The teacher should bear it in mind that in correcting a
fault there is always danger of erring in the opposite extreme. Properly
speaking, there is no danger of learning to articulate too d'\stincti\\. but
there is danger of making the obscure sounds loo prominent, and of
reading in a slow, measured, and unnatural manner.
RULE IV.— Utter distinctly the terminating subvocals and aspirates.
EXAMPLES.
An' for a^irf.
ban' *' tanrf.
inoiiTi' " in&iinff.
mor-nin' '* uiorn-in^.
ob-jec' " ob-jftC^
3iib-j*io' " euh-Jeci.
Incorrect
Correct
Incorrect
Correct
Sep-er-ale
sep-£j-rate
Mem-£'r-rv
mem-<i-rv
met-ric-/(l
met-ric-Lvl
/(P-pin-ion
f:'-pin-ion
;/p-pear
i/p-pear
pr/^p-ose
pr^'-pose
com-ptT-tenl
com-pc-tent
eran-n v-lar
Eran^^-Iar
d/Mii-mand
di'-mand
par-lic-('-lar
par-lic-j/-lar
ob-st/M-nale
ob-sl/-nale
ev-£T-denl
ev-p-deni
1
Incorrect
Correct
Incorrect
Correct
An'
an^/
Mos'
\^\osque
ban'
ban^/
near-es'
near-es/
moun'
mount/
wep'
wepf
mor-nin'
morn-in^[?
ob-jec'
ob-jecf
des'
des A
sub-jec
sub-jeer
1
REMARK I .--This omission is still more likely to occur when several
consonants come together,
EXAMPLES.
T^aCtmKKTT-
CUR-FLECT-n
mcOFFECT. COVUCT.
Thrua"
^r tlirusfa-
Hn.niniti' fcr ^^riu^sL
baa«9
^ tieafifs-
wrong!}' ^* wrorjj;|'s^.
thiTilka'
'" thinker.
twinlcJes' *' twi-nklVsi!.
weps'
^ wepfc^.
bUick^ns " l>laeltii'rf*f.
1
Incorrect
Correct
Incorrect
Correct
Thrus'
thrusr.T
Harms'
harin'.Tr
beace
beasrj
wrongs'
wrono'jf
thinks'
thinku
I winkles'
Iwinkl'^/jr
V. ep.s'
wep/u
black'ns
black'n'L/j/
1
14
ECLECTIC SERIES.
REMARK 2.— In all cases of this kind these sounds are omitted, in the
first inslance, merely because they are difficult, and require care and
attention for their utterance, although after a while it becomes a habit.
The only remedy is to devote //jc7/ cure and alien lion which may be
necessary. There is no other difficulty, unless there should be a defect in
the organs of speech, which is not often the case.
RULE v.— A void blending syllables which belong to different words.
EXAMPLES.
CORRECT.
INCORRECT.
He ga-zjJupon.
Here res rsis sed.
Whatns jis snanie?
For ranninsfantush.
Ther jis sa calm.
For tho sr/^a rneep.
God sglorou simage.
He gaze^/ upon.
Here x^sts h is /^ead.
What is h is name?
For an instant //ush.
The/e is a calm.
For tliOSQ r/jat iteep.
God's glorious image.
EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION.
This exercise and similar ones will afford valuable aid in training the
organs to a distinct articulation.
Every vice f'lghrs again. rf nature.
Folly is never pleajt'c/ withp/jelf.
Pride, not naru re. crctv&s much .
The V\tt!e tattlet t'utered at the tempest.
Titus takes the petulant outcaj^^.
The covetous partner is de.rfitute of fo/tune.
No one of you knowj where the shoe pinches.
What can not be cured must be endured .
You can not catch old birds with chaff.
Never sport w'lrh the opiniijn^ of others .
The lightnif?^^ flashed , the thunders roared.
His hand in mine was fondly clasped.
They cu//ivated shrubs and plants.
He selected his iexts with great care.
His ]\ps grow restless, and his jmile is curled half into scorn .
Wisdom's ways are ways of /'/eajan//?ess.
FIFTH READER.
15
O £"/eeze, that waff^f me on my way!
Thou bo^st'st of what sho\i\d be thy s/iame,
Li/e's fit/ul fever over, he rests well.
Canst thou fill his s/:in with barbed irons?
From star to std^r the living lighr/;i^^j//ajA.
And glittering crowns of prostrate seraphim.
That morning, thou thai slutnbtr'd'st not before.
Habifua] evi/5 change not on a sudden.
Thou waft'd'si the rickety skiffs over the clffs.
Thou reef cV'^f the haggled, 5/npwrec/:ed sails.
The honest shepherd's catarrh.
The heijx^j in her dishabille is /^umo/ous.
The brave c/?evalier behaves like a conservative.
The luscious notion of champagne and /precious sugar.
III. INFLECTIONS.
Inflections are slides of the voice upward or downward.
Of these, there are two: the rising inflection and the falling
inflection.
The Rising Inflection is that in which the voice slides
upward, and is marked thus ('); as.
Did you walk'? Did you ^'^'
The Falling Inflection is that in which the voice slides
downward, and is marked thus ('); as,
I did not walk\ 1 did not ^^^^
Both inflections are exhibited in the following question:
Did you waik^ or ride^? -^^ or "'^e.
Did you walk'? Did you walk.
I did not walk'. I did not walk.
Did you walk' or ride' ? walk or ride.
ECLECTIC SERIES.
In the following examples, the first member has the rising and the
second member the falling inflection:
EXAMPLES. [1]
la be sict^j or ia he well'' ?
l>id you say vaior'^ or value*^ ?
Did yoii aay atatiBt*^', or aLatiie'^?
Did Ji6 act pro|>erly', or improperiy^?
In the following e^Lamples, Ihe inflectional are used in a contrary order,
the firs! member lerrainaling with the/c:^//;/?gand the second wilh the
rising inflection:
EXAMPLES.
He is wqU^i not siek^.
J aaid valiifi\ not valflr'.
] t^aid Ktaliue."", not sLalutft',
He a^ted properly^j not impropsrlj''.
Is he sick'
or is he
well
T
Did you sa
y valor'.
or value'?
Did you sa
y statute
, or
,tatue'?
Did he ad
properly
, Of
imprope
riy'?
He is weir, not sick',
1 said value', not valor'-
I said slalue'. nol statute'.
He acted properly', nol improperly'.
FALLING INFLECTIONS.
Rule VL--The falling inflection is generally proper
wherever the sense is complete.
EXAMPLES.
Ttuth js morfi wcnderful thaji fiction'*.
M«n gT^imrilly dit an tli-sy live"^.
By iodustry vrc obtaia Trealth^
Truth is more wonderful than ficlion'.
Men generally die as they live'.
By industry we obtain wealth'.
REMARK. -Paris of a sentence often make complete sense in
themselves, and in this case, unless qualified or restrained by the
succeeding clause, or unless the contrary is indicated by some other
principle, the falling inflection takes place according to the rule.
IFootnote I: These questions and similarones, with their answers, should
be repeatedly pronounced with their proper inflection, until ihe
distinction between the rising and falling inflection is well understood
and easily made by the learner. He will be assisted in this by
emphasizing strongly the ^ord which receives the inflection, thus. Did
you RIDE' or did you WALK'?]
FIFTH READER 17
EXAMPLES
Ttilt]^ is "WisrilfiTftir, PFPTi mora so thin Actinn^.
Mbh ^c^riemlJy ili-s ^ thij^ livn'-, ,-LTid Ihj t3ieir aiGLioiDa we must
judge of tlxeir cljarackr\
ExcL'piioi\.--Wh^n a sentence concludes witli a negative clause, or
with a conlrast or comparison (called also aniithesis), the firsi member of
which requires the falling inflection, it must close with the rising
inflection. (See Rule XI, and §2, No^e.)
EXAMPLES.
Ko one desires to he thought a fool'.
T coTiie U> bury'' Chshil]', riot to praise' him.
He lives ill I'^nglaMi^, lyot \i\ IVunce'.
REMARK. --In bearing testimony to the general character of a man
we say:
Hfi 15 too hflnoraWe^ to ^e E^uilty of a vile^ act.
But if he is accused of some act of baseness, a contrast is at once
insliluted between his character and the specified act, and we change the
inflections, and say:
lie is too hmoraHe'' to be guilty of such' an act.
A man may say in general terms:
I am too btisy" for proje-ctsS
But if he is urged to embark in some particular enterprise, he will
change the inflections, and say:
1 am too busy^ for projects^.
In such cases, as the falling inflection is required in the former part by
the principle of contrast and emphasis (as will hereafter be more fully
explained), the sentence necessarily closes with the rising inflection.
Sometimes, also, emphasis alone seems to require the rising inflection
on the concluding word. See exception to Rule VIL
Truth is wonderful', even more so than fiction'
Men generally die as they live' and by their
actions we must judge of their character'.
No one desires to be thought a fool'.
I come to bury' Caesar, not to praise' him.
He lives in England' not in France'.
He is too honorable' to be guilty of a vile' acl.
He is too honorable' to be guilty of such' an act.
1 am too busy' for projects'.
I am too busv' for projects'.
(5.-2.)
18 ECLECTIC SERIES.
STRONG EMPHASIS.
RULE VII. --Language which demands strong emphasis
generally requires the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
§ 1 . Command or urgent entreaty; as.
Run'* to jouc Louses^ fall^ iipon your kn&es,
Pray^ to tha Gods to intermit the piaguea.
Op save^ Jiafl, Hiil>«rt\ save^ niet My eyas are out
Even with the iierce loufca of these bloody irien-
§ 2. Exclamation, especially when indicating strong
emotion; as,
O, j6 (khds^l ye Gi>d3M nmst I ejidnire eJI this?
HarkM HaikM the horrid aouiid
Haih irnised up Ma head.
For interrogatory exclamation, see Rule X, Remark.
SERIES OF WORDS OR MEMBERS,
Begone\
Run' to your houses, fall' upon your knees.
Pray' to the Gods to intermit the plagues.
0, save' me, Hubert' save' me I My eyes are out
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
0, ye Gods'! ye Gods'! must I endure all this?
Hark'! Hark'! the horrid sound
Hath raised up his head.
§ 3. A series of words or members, whether in the
beginning or middle of a sentence, if it does not conclude the
sentence, is called a commencing series, and usually requires
the rising inflection when not emphatic.
EXAMPLES OF COMMENCING SERIES.
Wine', beauty^ jmusie-', pomp\ are poor expediftntd Iq heave
off the \o-^I of an hour from the heir of fiteraity^
W ine\ beauty', music', pomp', are poor expedients to
heave off the load of an hour from the heir of eternity'.
FIFTH READER.
19
J ocmjiira you hj tlist wliicb you profess,
{Howe'er you c&rae io know it,) ans^vcr nie;
ThaugT^ yoTi unfc^B the Vhbida atir^ let iKem fig^ht
Agi^iLiAt tbe chureke?'' ; tkqugL th^ yearly "^aves
Cr^nfound and STvallow navigation-' up;
Though bladed corn be iodgedj ^T^d trees blown dowa'f
Tbough castles iop^le dei tlielT wKfrrdcrS* beads'';
Though paJai:^a and pyramids do alopci
Their h^Eids to tli^ir fcmid&tiChna^; tbougli the treasures
Of aaiure a germeii& tumble altchg-etber^
Even tsU de^tmctiou ijickfln-'; answer me
To wliat 1 a&k^ you.
§ 4. A series of words or members which concludes a
sentence is called a concluding series, and each member
usually has the falling inflection.
EXAMPLE OF CONCLUDING SERIES.
Th&y, throngli {ilt\ subdued tiiij^doiike'-, -Tfrought Hgh^^aoiift^
iieBflS obtained proiiiisas^ atopped the iJiouths of ]k>ua'', queihcbed
tlia Tiol^Tic^ of fir6\ escaped thn^ ed^ Cit tbe ewor4i\ out o£
'weakii'MS w^T^ m^.^ strong^, ■wflsed valieiit in ft^bt"-^ tniraed to
fligbt bhe Gjnai&a of tha Edieti&V
REMARK. --When the emphasis on these words or
members is not marked, they take tbe rising inflection,
according to Rule IX.
EXAMPLES.
They v^ tlio oflBJ^rirg of reetleflaneea', Tfl-ntty'j arid i^lnnea*^,
I<OTe''j bope's and joy' trwk posseasiou ot big breast.
§ 5. When words which naturally take the rising inflection
become emphatic by repetition or any other cause, tbey often
take the falling inflection.
I conjure you by thai which you profess,
(Howe'er you came to know itj answer me;
Though you untie the winds and let ihem fight
Against the churches'; though the yeasty waves
Confound and swallow navigation' up;
Though bladed corn be lodged, and trees blown down';
Though castles topple on their warders' heads';
Though palaces and pyramids do slope
Their heads to their foundations'; though the treasures
Of nature's germens tumble altogether'.
Even till destruction sicken'; answer me
To what I ask' you.
They, through faith, subdued kingdoms', wrought
righteousness' obtained promises', stopped the mouths of
lions', quenched the violence of fire', escaped the edge of the
sword', out of weakness were made strong', waxed valiant in
fight', turned to flight the armies of the aliens'.
They are the offspring of restlessness', vanity', and idleness'.
Love', hope', and joy' took possession of his breast.
20
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Exception to the Rule. --While (he tendency of emphasis is decidedly
to the use of ihe falUng inflection, sometimes a word to which the falling
inflection naturally belongs changes this, when it is emphatic, for the
rising inflection.
EXAMPLES.
Three tho^sax*^ dnf^atB^: 't xa a good round Mm'",
It is UBele&s to jwiisL out the bernitiea oi nature to ona who
Here sum and bliini , according to Rule VI, would take the falling
inflection, but as they are emphatic, and the object ofemphasis is to draw
altenlion lo the word emphasized, this is here accomplished in pari by
giving an unusual inflection. Some speakers would give these words the
circumflex, but it would he the rising circumflex, so Ihat Ihe sound
would still terminate with the rising inflection.
RULE VIIL— Questions which can ijot be answered by yes orno,
logether with Iheir answers, generally require the falling inflection.
Three Ihousand ducals': 'I is a good round sum'.
It is useless to point out (be beauties of nature to one
who is b}ind'.
EXAMPLES.
Where li=».s !fefl grme^?
Wlmt ]is>* he dnne^?
Who did ttuB^?
Wlieii did be go^?
J.ns. To i^ei.v ToTt^,
An^, NoUihigV
AjiE,. 1 know not^.
Am, Ydb-Unrday^,
REMARK.— It these questions are repeated, the inflection is changed
according to the principle stated under the Exception to Rule VII.
Wh.^.re fJid yoLj fsay h'^ hiul gone'?
What has he don^'S
TTi^did this'?
Wlim did he go'?
RISING INFLECTION.
Where has he gone'?
Ans
To New York'.
What has he done'?
Ans
Nothing'.
Who did this'?
Ans
I know not'.
When did he go'?
Ans
Yesterday'.
Where did you say
he h
id
gone?
What
has he done'?
Who
did this'?
Whet
did he go'?
RULE IX.— Where a pause is rendered proper by the meaning, and Ihe
sense is incomplete, the rising inflection is generally required.
FIFTH READER.
21
To -Qiidure alsiiidcr and ibuae with meekn^sis'' requires no or-
dinary dagree of nelC-coiiunaii-il'^o
Night cumiiig obi", IxjUi armlet insbirBcl fixhiii tha llelJ. of
As a do^ returiieth to hU youtit/, sc a f-ool r^fcunieth to his
tfi\\y\
Kkhark.— Tjie peE3«-n or object nddroiSedp in ordlns^ry csDy&rsiLtlQii^
Fat-hera'f w* once ayain aie riitt Iei couucil.
lAy lord^''! ani) j;;4^i3dciEiGn^ E we liavB airivBd at tm awfiU
criais.
A|^€'l thou [irfc sh.tTii^rL
RomeM tkou hfiJit ]Q?\t tho bi^^cL of nc^le bloodsl
HxcsptiG/t. — Where a wotd whJch, oocurdlng to thle rcJe, regdrea tha
fJAiag iaflF^ctio-ii, L4K:^mr^H eioph^tiO:^ it ^^itcrAlly has tNe falLing itilli^
tlr>n ; ;in,.'^hgn jl <^hi1ri ^Mra^ea hiia father, li-a Krsi: i^Oiys, F^Dli«r'l Lub If
h-i^ ri3pO!U.3 it nmphfLLicnlly, h« c^hnn^^ eJ^i? Lriilct>tlau, ^nii g^y^, F^thi^r'^t
EXAWPLKS.
Wlwjn wff aiiti at a lugh stanriarr], iE we do uob afi^affi'^ it, wa
shall fiipciire a liigh lEe^gTfle of excellerioe,
Tho^ia who ininglo with t^io vifnoiiSj if tliej do oat becoma ife-
prctiied^, will lose all delicacy of feelkg^-
HuLE X.— Questions whkh maTf he answcrftl by ?/e:^ or
710, gtsnerally require tlm yiMngt *^ their aaswera the
fiiUin^ inflectit^n-
KTAHTTXESt
ITaa be arriTed'? Vea\
Will l3e retLirn'r* No^
Dofla the law condemn him'? It does not^
EXAMPLES.
To endure slander and abuse with meekness' requires no ordinary
degree of self-command',
Nighl coming on', both armies retired from the field of battle'.
As a dog returneth to his vomit', so a fool returneth to his folly'.
REMARK. --The person or object addressed, in ordinary
conversation, comes under this head.
EXAMPLES.
Fathers'! we once again are met in counciL
My lords'! and gentlemen'! we have arrived at an awful crisis.
Age'! thou art shamed.
Rome'! thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods!
Exceptio/i.--W\iQrG a word which, according to this rule, requires
the rising inflection, becomes emphatic, it generally has the falling
inflection; as. when a child addresses his father, he first says. Father'!
but if he repeats it emphatically, he changes the inflection, and says,
Father'! Father'! The falling inflection is also used in formal address;
as. Fellow-citizens', Mr. President', etc.
EXAMPLES.
When we aim at a high standard, if we do not attain' it, we shall
secure a high degree of excellence.
Those who mingle with the vicious, if they do not become
depraved', will lose all delicacy of feeling.
RULE X,— Questions which may be answered by yes or /zo,
generally require the rising, and their answers the falling inflection.
EXAMPLES.
Has he arrived'? Yes'.
Will he return"? No'.
Does the law condemn him'? It does not'.
22
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Exception. --If these questions are repeated emphatically, they
take the falling inflection, according to Rule VII.
ESdJIPLEd.
Do& ^B law ccndnmn hjm^?
(cry nm^iHoii^'Lluo^ tbe rlsio^ iuflecEJOTL la useij Bcrordixig to the prinoi-
pto of tills li&le.
Toil ask, -vho -would Tenture^ \w snct a o»u^q [ "VTho would
iwnJwrfl'.f Kaitber eaj, viho -^otxVl iftOt^ ve^itiiT* all &hinjfB for
Stt^h ftt9 oic^jocti
He is caUeil tlje firienrl^ of virtue. The /ricnri' / ny] the eu-
ilju&liiatic luver'-, the deToi".ed pi^tector^t rather.
So,. B.bi>, whqiL one nceives miiKE^iaiit^ iTifamiat.icia lie ■e:c^ln.imFE, AJi^l
KEMAnit — £□ the ftlx»v& e^OMplaa tie Tmrds "" Tenturt:^'" "frltpJ,'*
' nil,'" ^?i^^, mity fao -Qonslflered sm^ iat^^rroHUtory ■e.'tdiiniaiKiMF*, I}iwj;ure \t
the jwbijf? Wjre carried out 3t n-oiild Ijh Sti llhc foriu ol qi.ieetinn ^ eh^. " Do
you apk who \i^i>iild PWiSwra^^'' " Do juu say iLat he ^5 i^be /j-ie^^?:' of
Tirtufi ? ^' ^' r& if. paalWe' ?" JiDd lliia Uiidy woiild rerosv^ Lb^ i-1s*cg la-
RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS.
RULE Xi.--The different members of a sentence expressing
comparison, or contrast, or negation and affirmation, or where the
parts are united by or used disjunctively, require different
inflections: generally the rising inflection in the first member, and
\hc falling inflection in the second member. This order is,
however, sometimes inverted.
§ 1. Comparison and contrast. This is also called antithesis.
EXAMPLES.
Has he arrived'?
Will he return^
Does the law condemn him'?
REMARK, --When a word or sentence is repealed as a kind of
interrogatory exclamation, the rising inflection is used according
to the princples of this rule.
EXAMPLES.
You ask, who would venture' in such a cause! Who would
venture'? Rather say, who would not' venture all things for such
an object!
He is called the friend' of virtue. The friend'! ay! the
enthusiastic lover' the devoted protector' rather.
So, also, when one receives unexpected information he
exclaims, Ah'! indeed'!
REMARK. --In the above examples the words "venture," "friend,'^
"ah, " etc., may be considered as inleriogatory exclamations, because if
ttie sense were carried out it would be in the form of question; as, "Do
you ask who would veitturc'?" "Do you say that he is the/>;V7Jt/' of
virtue?" "Is it possible'?" and thus they would receive the rising
inflection, according to this rule.
FIFTH READER.
23
EXAMPLES.
Ll bJI thJn^B. approvittg otuselves £ls the nuniBters of God; b^
honor'', and disLonor^; by eTil' report, and good^ re^rtj a£ de-
cei^eTS"', and j"*:t true^ ; eis uukacTr^i/} and yet w«^U^ kno^Ji; a*
djihg^, B.iid b^Jioid we IJve^; a^ ofnujti^iipd'', aj^d not kil)&j^; as
Borrowfal^ yet sdwuys rejoit^iJi^^ ^ ftj? poor^ yet loakin^ juauj
ricBi^i aa haring noihiilg-'j yut ptujSiee&ilig all* ^hui^'^n
Europe waa one great battll^fi$ld, wEi^i^ fhe v^^alf sh-ngglM
for freeioili'j ftILd the etrf>ng for dDQiiiiiDn^. Ths feing was
wiLhout powet"', aEid ftifi fiobles 'wittocfc prmciplfii^* Thttj were
tjranti eit ]iOm</p fiftd rot^ber? a|>TO&d^
g S, ]?egatiom and f^rtn^tSoQ.
JBs do^u^^ not io injure' hia friend^ but to protocV Imu,
We dvBBre not your money", bat youiselves^.
I did not say a bettef' aoidi'tfr, bii^ ad elder^.
If till! Kffii^iimciTe clanae uchh^b firat,. tb«< o-rd«z- ^1 tliu EuQet^lioiu iB
iDTented-
EXAlHFLSa.
lie deau^ {o f^ruiect'^ Lia friend, not to mjiire'' Liiu.
We deaire ycurselvea^, not joax raonuj'^.
I said aji elder^ aoJdier, 1j.0t & letter*'.
"We destr& not your moTiey'^.
] did not say a b*^hT*jr'' .qoUliflr,
The region Ise^yoTid Use tiravs js iio^ a solitary'' la-ni
In most negative sentences standing alone, the corresponding
affirmative is understood; hence the following-
In all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God; by honor',
and dishonor'; by evil' report, and good' report; as deceivers', and yel
true'; as unknown', and yet well' known: as dying', and behold we live';
as chastened', and not killed'; as sorrowful', yel always rejoicing'; as
poor', yel making many rich'; as having nothing', yet possessing all'
things.
Europe was one great battlefield, where the weak struggled for
freedom', and the strong for dominion'. The king was without power',
and the nobles without principle'. They were tyrants at home', and
robbers abroad'.
§ 2. Negation and affirmation.
EXAMPLES.
He desired not to injure' his friend, but to protect' him.
We desire not your money', but yourselves'.
I did not say a better' soldier, but, an elder'-
If the affirmative clause comes first, the order of the inflections is
inverted-
EXAMPLES.
He desired to protect' his friend, not to injure' him-
We desire yourselves', not your money'.
I said an elder' soldier, not a better'.
The affirmative clause is sometimes understood.
We desire not your money'.
I did not say a better' soldier.
The region beyond the grave is not a solitary' land.
REMARK. --Negative sentences, whether alone or connected
with an affirmative clause, generally end with the rising inflection.
24
ECLECTIC SERIES.
We do noi^ daair^ your lELone^.
I tixd noi> say a belter aoldiet.
ffl. Or used diejucLCti^ely,
IMd be IjetftTe properly', or iinproperlj-*^ ?
Are tlwy Imng', or dead"-?
Is be "rich', OT poor^ ?
Does God, hi^jVitEg tTiacle hla ^reatuTes, tafca no fiirliher' car«
of thenij or does he piregeTTa and ^ids them* 1
KsnLAKiLt. ^'Wtiere pr ia need wnjioictitiTy, tblfl rale does not apply; aa,
"Vi'ill iLe law of kiiidneaa-' oi of juetii:*' ju^lFy &iioll oondnr-^^ 3
CIRCUMFLEX,
Tlie circuTnaex 15 a Tmion of the rising and faUms in-
flections. PtoperLj" speaking:^ th-ere s-re two of theses tho
one called tho vipirf-ff flircmiifl^s, in wliich th« voice slides
dcMurt and then i^^p; and the otlicrj the /a^JfHjf oircumcflex,
in "whiclk the voice sILdea upward ami then do^*iiwai'd on.
tho SfluiB voweL The}^ may Wth he denoted by the sam^^
marlc, thus, (^)h Tb« <3irciun&fles ia nst-d chkay to indi-
cate the empbaaia of irony, of oonbraatj Ot of hypothoaia*
1. ^^31. HaitdeLj jOU hftVO your father mi3ch offended.
Htat^^i Majdam, yfill Mve Tioy father much offended.
2. TlLHy offer ua their protec'tion* Ye9\ ?fluh protection &3
vOit^ji^ gi-pe liQ xambB, g^^verln^ aod deTaimug them.
If such sentences are repeated emphatically, they take the falling
inflection according to Rule VI.
EXAMPLES.
We do not' desire your money,
i did tiof say a. better soldier.
§ 3. Or used disjunctively.
Did he behave properly', or improperly'?
Are they living/, or dead'?
Is he rich', or poor'?
Does God, having made his creatures, take no further' care of
them, or does he preserve and guide them'?
REMARK. --Where or is used conjunctively, this rule does not
apply: as.
Will the law of kindness' or of justice' justify such conduct'?
CIRCUMFLEX.
The circumflex is a union of the rising and falling inflections.
Properly speaking, there are two of these, the one called the rising
circumflex, in which the voice slides down and then iip\ and the
other, the falling circumflex, in which the voice slides upward and
then downward on the same vowel. They may both be denoted by
the same mark, thus, C^), The circumflex is used chiefly to indicate
the emphasis of irony, of contrast, or of hypothesis.
EXAMPLES.
1. Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended.
Hamlet. Madam, you have my father much offended.
2. They offer lis their pro tec 't ion. Yes', SLich protection as vultures give
to lambs, covering and devouring them.
FIFTH READER.
25
3r I knew wh^n flerei: jKStkes could not mate up a quarrel;
but ■when the paTfcips met thamftBlTe^i ane o^ E.hei>l thoiiLgiit but
*>f All rj," flji^ If you eftifl Afl, hhen 1 Baid &o; O hof did you s^j
sdV So they sJiook hand^ sjid wgtc i^wotq bro^ei^
Hbuailsfi, — Ie lJiie_fFr^ andm'pip', thqi pmpli^'ji!? 3@ thnl^ of pODtniStr TIm
qviBcn hjid pn-i^E^d Iwjr hn^tntnd, cf wh-icli fliJB JiK^rreolly BupjHjsed iter
Vf}^ i&ifttiial, UDd alkd blbOi^ LIIdi iuF trGa,J:iiLg ]:|i^ fj|theh--ii-la7r WJth div*
roBpeBt. In JiiA rHply, Hnjolet CDotE^atn hot di^p c^'iiri^ n<ltji J1I3 OWJL
BligLt affubtid, iiiiA iUd uln^iiififli^i uihjel " ;f^iD " tjc<?OTli€& proper.
tit the ■TTGCo'Jrif D^oinplie tlna GmpbasEs is- ininLc^l. Tti^ SpitularC^ pr^
tendt^d Ui^t lliej WHJLitJ prnlfii^L tJie FeruTijins if tli^y no^Jd J4.iibnilt to
ttum, Trhere^B it w^^n -avid-EinL tJiiit iti^y m-areJ^ d-a^i^d t^ jphmli^ auil
dcBCrny thfjn, Thiw th4?ir protertinn in ir^niiT^Lly oaUad "sfiet praT-AHsdoo.
In The.tAii'dwcajnpla, tji-e woril " ew" 3s dwrT hype t tie tlcally ^ itftt be, tt
JitJ]>1.l«? A fionditian ■■i aLijpfxtj^itioai. It will bf- obni^rv^l thAt tLo rLsing
clTcnmri-aic is used in th-a tlrar; *" so/' and th^ fa^Hinj^, 3ib the sacitni!^, Ua-
i^uto ib-ei firat '^ *& ■"' mnst ^ni wills it* ri^ng ii]ri^ui<iii aad tbe HAinitiil
w\xh the falltTi^inflecrLoTij a^ao^Td'tiig tu prevlMis rulM-
MOKTOTOITR
"When Tn> worn m » sf^n(;enr^ rcsiieirea an inJlectioiij 5t
is aatd to he r^^d in ft ^oi^otone; tUa-t is, in Jiearl/ tbs
G&me biue tliroughouL This uniformity of tome ia iwnia-
aicuxally ad-j|Jtedj and ig iittod to exp^^^a EdOl^multy or
BubhTTnitj of ides, and sonietLra?3 iTit'Pnsity of feding. It
13 used, Eilao, ivKen the whole sentence or phijtse ia eiu-
phsitic. In books of elofnitioiij wb^n it is m3irkeil ^t all,
it ia gect^ralJy joark^d thus ( — ), a^ in the liiiee follow-
Bqdcc I laath^d melancholy S
WhfiTfi "brtyHinp dukn^i^a ^j^renda ber jealous wings,
And the night TSTen singfl;
There, m"1er phon sliadta &jT3 kiw-btow«d rw^ks^
Aa ragged oS tby IcCka,
I^ deep Ciiiuji-eriuu ds^rkaeaa evo* dvrdl*
3, I knew when seven justices could not make up a quarrel; but
when the parlies met themselves, one of them thought but of an if,
as, If you said so. then I said so; O ho! did you say so! So they
shook hands and were sworn brothers.
REM ARKS.--I1] the first example, the emphasis is that of contrast. The
queen had poisoned her husband, of which she incorrectly supposed her
son ignorant, and she blames him for treating his father-in-law with
disrespect. In his reply. Hamlet contrasts her deep crime with his own
slight offense, and the circumflex upon "you" becomes proper.
In the st-conif example the emphasis is ironical. The Spaniards
pretended that they would protect the Peruvians if they would submit to
Ihem, whereas it was evident that they merely desired lo plunder and
destroy Ihem. Thus their protection is ironically called "such protection as
vultures give to lambs," etc.
In the tlurd example, the word "so" is used hypothetically; thai is, it
implies a condition or supposition. It will be observed that the rising
circumflex is used in the first "so," and the falling, in the second, because
the first "so" must end with the rising inflection and the second with the
falling inflection, according to previous rules.
MONOTONE.
When no word in a sentence receives an inflection, it is said to
be read in a nwnoTone; that is. in nearly the same tone throughout.
This uniformity of tone is occasionally adopted, and is fitted lo
express solemnity or sublimity of idea, and sometimes intensity of
feeling. It is used, also, when the whole sentence or phrase is
emphatic. In books of elocution, when it is marked at all, it is
generally marked thus (---), as in the lines following.
EXAMPLES.
Hence! loathed melancholy!
Where brooding darkness spreads her jealous wings,
And the night raven sings;
There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks,
As ragged as thy locks.
In deep Cimmerian darkness ever dwell.
26
ECLECTIC SERIES.
IV- ACCENT.
In every word which contains more than one syllable, one of
the syllables is pronounced with a somewhat greater stress of
voice than the others. This svllable is said to be accented. The
accented syllable is distinguished by this mark {'), the same which
is used in inflections.
EXAMPLES.
Lgvely,
Tie-turn',
reHTieiTi'ber,
Cou'^^tdnt,
rfr-maili'j
a^un'i^erj
MoTn'ber,
a-bida',
a-b^n'doTig
"Wii/doWj
a-tOJne',
rec-ol-lect-',
Betn'Tier,
a-lonfl',
re-em -b art'.
HicvtASK. — 111 luoflt cflSGB Duat^joi la the i>n]y guI-aefflP placing iho aMcnt
go Dc.fi ayJlabl-fi rather thar anoiter. S[>iQi:^tLm£&, Jto^ever, ttiB e^me
word la <Jiffec^nt1y a^'j-Bnted iin. uni«r to ma.rk ica different menDing^
ir^xAiviPiJca.
Ai^gaa,^ a aionth.
€on-ji£re', to emtraat.
(JaJ-iaai', a gay fellow.
FLkhakk. — A TiTimbar r>r -Mprda oaed aoTnetim^a 0^ o^O part of Epcooh,
XXAWPLE^^
Pre.f'ent, the noun,
Pre£'ent, the adjective.
CtffFi'jiact, the lionii*
Pn^-nTCTi:", the ver-b^
Oom-jftflcr, tbe adjective-
Corn-pcj<7('j the verb*
Xa ivT>rd» o:^ more tiibit] twa ayllablfis there ia oft^n a. eecond ac<ienL
givenp but m^jre a]ig!hit tliaji th"i prin^jpal one, ftniT tlaii i*! c^lW tbe .*pc-
tJ'wttlr!:^ accent-; aifL, -f^-a^^a^v-an' \ !"B;n"' ar-jleii', ^vhert; tte prljii;l|ja.l acM;e-ut is
iTiarkcil (') AndtJacaecondary J."}; By, aJbCPi tnS^a0WT:^ti9^^Vi^^^J9llln';*'■"-
^rG■'tiun, ei?j»i-'''pre-Ae^^flBOTi, piaii''^s\-b^l^i-:f, cti^. TJic wboL& aubjjRct,
bowevcfp properly b^^Tigr^ u* iliitiJiMiarifc^ aod. Billing' biwks.
Love'ly,
Con'slant
Mem'ber,
Win'dow,
Ban'ner,
re-turn',
re-main',
a-bide',
a-tone',
a-lone',
re-mem'ber,
a-sun'der,
a-ban'don,
rec-ol-lect',
re -em- bark',
REMARK.— in mosl cases custom is the only guide for placing the
accent on one syllable rather than another. Sometimes, however, the
same word is differently accented in order to mark its different
meanings.
EXAMPLES,
Con'jUTG, to practice enchantments. Conjure', to entreal.
Gflflant, brave. Gal-Zant', a gay fellow-
Au'gust, a month. Au-gust\ grand.
REMARK. --A number of words used sometimes as one part of
speech, and sometimes as another, vary their accents irregularly.
EXAMPLES,
Pr^^ent, noun. Pres'enl^ adjective Pre-5^/?^, verb.
Com'pacI, noun Com-pacT\ adjective. Com-pacf. verb
In words of raore than two syllables there is often a second accent
given, bul more slight than the principal one, and this is called the
secondary accent; as, car'^-van'\ rep"^r-tee\ where the principal accent
is marked (') and the secondary ("); so, also, this accent is obvious in
/7flv"i-g£7 tion, fo;7?"pre-/ze/z'sion, plati"si-biri-iy. etc. The whole subject,
however, properly belongs to dictionaries and spelling books.
FIFTH READER. 27
V. EMPHASIS.
A word is said to be emphasized when it is uttered with a
greater stress of voice than the other words with which it is
connected.
REMARK 1 .--The object of emphasis is to attract particular
attention to the word upon which it is placed, indicating that the
idea to be conveyed depends very much upon that word. This
object, as just stated, is generally accomplished by increasing the
force of utterance, but sometimes, also, by a change in the
inflection, by the use of the monotone, by pause, or by uttering the
words in a very low key. Emphatic words are often denoted by
italics, and a still stronger emphasis by SMALL CAPITALS or
CAPITALS, according to the degree of emphasis desired.
REMARK 2. --Emphasis constitutes the most important feature
in reading and speaking, and, properly applied, gives life and
character to language. Accent, inflection, and indeed everything
yields to emphasis.
REMARK 3. --In the following examples it will be seen that
accent is governed by it,
EXAMPLES.
What is done cannot be undone.
There is a difference between giving and/^rgiving.
He that descended is the same that ^5cended.
Some appear to make very little difference between decency
and /?7decency, morality and /mmoralily, religion and //religion.
REMARK 4. --There is no better illustration of the nature and
importance of emphasis than the following examples. It will he
observed that the meaning and proper answer of the question vary
with each change of the emphasis.
EXAMPLES.
QUESTIONS. ANSWERS,
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, my brother went.
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I rode.
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I went into the country.
Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I went the day before.
28 ECLECTIC SERIES.
ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS.
Sometimes a word is emphasized simply lo indicate the
importance of the idea. This is called absolute emphasis,
EXAMPLES.
To arms\ they come\ the Greek I the Greek\
Woe unto you, PHARISEES! HYPOCRITES!
Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away-
REMARK. --In instances like the last, it is sometimes called the
emphasis of specification.
RELATIVE EMPHASIS.
Words are often emphasized in order to exhibit the idea they
express as compared or contrasted with some other idea. This is
called relative emphasis,
EXAMPLES,
A friend can not be known in prosperity: an enemy can not be
hidden in adversity.
It is much belter to be injured than to injure.
REMARK. --In many instances one part only of the antithesis is
expressed, the corresponding idea being understood; as,
A friendly eye would never see such faults.
Here the unfriendly eye is understood.
King Henry exclaims, while vainly endeavoring to compose
himself to rest,
"How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleepV
Here the emphatic words thousand, subjects, and asleep are
contrasted in idea with their opposites, and if the contrasted ideas
were expressed it might be in this way:
While 1 alone, their sovereign, am doomed to wakefulness.
FIFTH READER. 29
EMPHATIC PHRASE.
Somelimes several words in succession are emphasized,
forming what is called an emphatic phrase.
EXAMPLES,
Shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul, and not only of the
Alpine nations but of the Alps themselves--shall I compare myself
with this HALF-YEAR-CAPTAIN?
Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the
LAST TEN YEARS,
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!
EMPHATIC PAUSE.
The emphatic expression of a sentence often requires a pause
where the grammatical construction authorizes none. This is
sometimes called the rhetorical pause. Such pauses occur chiefly
before or after an emphatic word or phrase, and somelimes both
before and after it.
EXAMPLES,
Rise--feIlow-men! our country--yet remains!
By that dread name we wave the sword on high,
And swear/o/' her--to Uve--with her--to die.
But most--hy numbers judge the poet's song:
And smooth or rough, with them is--right or wrong.
He said; then full before their sight
Produced the beast, and lo!--'f was white.
30 ECLECTIC SERIES.
VI. MODULATION.
Modulation includes the variations of the voice. These may be
classed under the heads of Pitch, Compass, Quantity, and Quality.
PITCH AND COMPASS.
If anyone will notice closely a sentence as uttered in private
conversation, he will observe that very few successive words are
pronounced in exactly the same key or with the same force. At the
same lime, however, there is a certain PITCH or key, which
seems, on the whole, lo prevail.
This keynote, or governing note, as it may be called, is that
upon which the voice most frequently dwells, to which it usually
returns when wearied, and upon which a sentence generally
commences, and very frequently ends, while, at the same time,
there is a considerable play of the voice above and below it.
This key may be high or low. It varies in different individuals,
and at different limes in the same individual, being governed by
the nature of the subject and the emotions of the speaker. It is
worthy of notice, however, that most speakers pitch their voices
on a key too high.
The range of the voice above and below this note is called its
COMPASS. When the speaker is animated, this range is great; but
upon abstract subjects, or with a dull speaker, it is small. If, in
reading or speaking, too high a note be chosen, the lungs will soon
become wearied; if too low a pitch be selected, there is danger of
indistinctness of utterance; and in either case there is less room for
compass or variety of tone than if one be taken between the two
extremes-
To secure the proper pitch and the greatest compass observe the
following rule:
RULE XII. --The reader or speaker should choose that pitch in
which he can feel himself most at ease, and above and below
which he may have most room for variation.
REMARK 1, --Having chosen the proper keynote, he should
beware of confining himself to it. This constitutes monotony^ one
of the greatest
FIFTH READER. 31
faults in elocution. One very important instrument for giving
expression and life to thought is thus lost, and the hearer soon
becomes wearied and disgusted.
REMARK 2. --There is another fault of nearly equal magnitude,
and of very frequent occurrence. This consists in varying the pitch
and force without reference to the sense. A sentence is
commenced with vehemence and in a high key, and the voice
gradually sinks until, the breath being spent, it dies away in a
whisper.
NOTE--The power of changing the key at will is difficult to
acquire, but of great importance.
REMARK 3. --The habit of singsongs so common in reading
poetry, as it is a variation of pitch without reference to the sense,
is a species of the fault above mentioned.
REMARK 4. --If the reader or speaker is guided by the sense,
and if he gives that emphasis, inflection, and expression required
by the meaning, these faults speedily disappear.
REMARK 5. --To improve the voice in these respects, practice
is necessary. Commence, for example, with the lowest pitch the
voice can comfortably sound, and repeal whole paragraphs and
pages upon that key with gentle force. Then repeat the paragraph
with increased force, taking care not to raise the pitch. Then rise
one note higher, and practice on that, then another, and so on, until
the highest pitch of the voice is reached. Reverse the process, and
repeat as before until the lowest pitch is obtained.
NOTE. --In these and all similar exercises, be very careful not
to confound pitch and force,
QUANTITY AND QUALITY,
The tones of the voice should vary also in quantity , or time
required to utter a sound or a syllable, and in quality , or
expression, according to the nature of the subject.
REMARK---We notice a difference between the soft,
insinuating tones of persuasion; the full, strong voice of command
and decision; the harsh, irregular, and sometimes grating
explosion of the sounds of passion; the plaintive notes of sorrow
and pity; and the equable and unimpassioned flow of words in
argumentative style.
The following direction, therefore, is worthy of attention:
The tones of the voice should always correspond both in
quantity and quality with the nature of the subject.
32
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Passion
and Grief
Plaintive
Calm
Fierce
Anger
Loud
and
Explosive
EXAMPLES.
"Come back! come back!" be cried, in grief.
"Across this stormy water,
And I'll forgive your Highland chief.
My daughter! 0. my daughter!"
I have lived long enough: my way of life
Is fallen into Ihe sear, Ihe yellow leaf:
And thai which should accompany old age.
As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have.
A very great portion of this globe is covered with
water, which is called sea, and is very distinct from
rivers and lakes.
Burned Marmion's swar!hy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire,
And--^'This to me?" he said;
"And 't were not for thy hoary beard.
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
"Even in thy pitch of pride,
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 '"
REMARK 1.— In our attempt to imitate nature it is important to avoid
affectation, for lo this fault even perfect monotony is preferable.
REMARK 2. --The strength of ihe voice may be increased by
practicing with different degrees o^ loudness, from a whisper to full
rotundity, taking care to keep the voice on the same key. The same note
in music may be sounded loud or soft. So also a sentence may be
pronounced on the same pitch with different degrees of loudness. Having
practiced with different degrees of loudness on one key, make the same
experiment on another, and then on another, and so on. This will also
give the learner practice in compass,
FIFTH READER. 33
VII. POETIC PAUSES.
In poetry we have, in addition to other pauses, poetic pauses.
The object of these is simply to promote the melody.
At the end of each line a slight pause is proper, whatever be the
grammatical construction or the sense. The purpose of this pause
is to make prominent the melody of the measure, and in rhyme to
allow the ear to appreciate the harmony of the similar sounds.
There is, also, another important pause, somewhere near the
middle of each line, which is called the caesura or caesural pause.
In the following lines it is marked thus (II):
EXAMPLES.
There are hours long departed II which memory brings.
Like blossoms of Eden II to Iwine round the heart,
And as time rushes by II on the might of his wings.
They may darken awhile II but they never depart.
REMARK. --The caesural pause should never be so placed as to
injure the sense. The following lines, if melody alone were
consulted, would be read thus:
With fruitless la II bor Clara bound.
And strove to stanch II the gushing wound;
The Monk with un II availing cares.
Exhausted all II the church's prayers.
This manner of reading, however, would very much interfere
with the proper expression of the idea. This is to be corrected by
making the caesural pause yield to the sense. The above lines
should be read thus:
With fruitless labor II Clara bound.
And strove II to stanch the gushing wound;
The Monk II with unavailing cares.
Exhausted II all the church's prayers.
34
ECLECTIC SERIES.
EXERCISES.
r, DEATH OF FRANKLIN,
{To be read in a solemn tone.)
Fmnkiin h di^i. The genius who freerl A'm^ea^, a-nd
poured a cnpioua stoajn ol ktiu^vledge tlitoi^lLuat fiwfpptf't ^
returned udIo iiha hchflom tti tLie Dh'inity^^ The saga to wh^rfl
/liifl- wwj'^d^"' lay cli-irriT Ui-^ iJiFi.n for whotn scitnce' and p^jiics^
ara disputing, indmpid.^bSy fliijchyed a.Ei eleval^d rauk iu Iiudie^d
TJi"? e&bijie-t* of princess have been long m tha li^bifj of noti-
fjinji Uie destlti i]/ those who werg rjr^iSf^j only in \}ve\t /mieral
oratUas\ Loo^ iiaJtb tbe eti^neCte o£ nM^ry", proolaimod Iha
tncmniiiig of k^pftf-rtf^"^. Nations' should ivear mDiiriiing for
non-e but tlitiir ^jfiJis/hrJiw'^^* Tha re'^reKTiZcrJn^^ of oa-tMS
aLoilld reeo-miiiiiTid to piiblw h&inBgc'' -oidy thoas wLo have Ij^&n.
TT. B03<rAPALtTE.
TTa kffiftrt no mfyitre'' but iWer-Gsf^; aclt^iowl^^^d no criisritfn^
bat *KiTCfij«^,' he woraliipod n& GfliJ^ L>at amfcEVwn* ; and wi'Gh ai
eaplioni deToiioii'i li-s ku*ii\j nt Uig ebrjne of bia idolatry^, Bnh-
tJdiary to thia, tliere whn m;> rjveri' thsit Ils clid not fmt/€Xir\
than! wufi nf? flpinzK^n' thai, he did not projnitl^ate''' : In tli-e 1io]3B of
B <l2fno4flf\ he iipli-ftlcf tha *iri?Ai:^^i^ ; foi' the -'^ake o^ a riij^orce^^ tie
bowed bftfore th« cros^*^ ; tJ'i^ r>rp^fi?i of Sl Loui^\ he became the
adopted ciiiJ of the r^jmUid' ; and^ with a paj-rjcLdal ingrati-
tude-'^ on tii-a ruins both of tlie ihroYie and the iribKn^ he r&ared
the throne ct his des':pfiri*i»i\
At his toueh crjiujiis'' CMiJ^Jfi'^^j" hfi(/i/ar£^ m^j-wrf^ ; s}fstemE^ wojii
ifihfff'i tha i^a^ent t^e^t'ie^" \o6k tho color o:f bis adJ^^jti^; imd nl)
thut wttE FenerfiLle^ , n-nd alL dkat wisp- tiofcJ''^ chuGig^d 'fiW;'^ with
4lia rapidity of a dro^a^n''- Nitture brul no ot^iarlff'' that ha did
not JurF?j^tcBiJ^ ; sp&cs, no ^ji^mijio^-' }3e did Jiot sjyurn^ i Fvni
lie act^uicd jJTO'Of'' a^Eiust pffnt% and Biiipowcrad with ti^liquiljf^p
Franklin is dead. The genius who freed America', and
poured a copious stream of knowledge throughout Europe, is
returned unto the bosom of the Divinity'. The sage to whom two
worlds' lay claim, the man for whom science' ^nd poliTics'd.rQ
disputing, indisputably enjoyed au elevated rank in human
nature.
The cabinets of princes have been long in the habit of
notifying the death of those who were great, only in their
funeral orations'. Long hath the etiquette of courts', proclaimed
the mourning of hypocrisy'. Nations' should wear mourning for
none but their benefactors'. The representatives' of nations
should recommend to public homage' only those who have been
the heroes of humanity'.
II. BONAPARTE.
He knew no motive' but intersf\ acknowledged no criterion'
bViX success'', he worshiped no Gorf'but ambition'; and with an
eastern devotion', he knelt at the shrine 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 crescent'; 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 ingraliude'.
on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune, he reared the
throne of his despotism' .
At his touch crouns' crumbled'; beggars' reigned'; systems'
vanished'; the wildest theories' took the color of his whim'; and
all that was venerable' and al! that was novel', changed places
with the rapidity of a drama'. Nature had no obstacle' that he did
not surmount; space, no opposition' he did not spurn'; and
whether amid Alpine rocks' ,-- Arabian sands',— or Polar snows',—
he seemed /?rc»c»/' against /J^nV. and empowered with ubiquity'.
FIFTH READER. 35
111. HAMLET ON SEEING THE SKULL OF YORICK.
Alas, poor Yorick'! I knew him', Horatio'; a fellow of infinite
jest', of most excellent fancy'. He hath borne me on his back' a
thousand times'; and now', how abhorred my imagination is'! My
gorge rises' at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed', I know
not how oft', Where be your gibes' now? your gambols'? your
songs'? your flashes of merriment', that were wont to set the table
on a roar'? Not one', now, to mock your own grinning'? quite
chopfallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber' and tell her', let
her paint an inch thick' to this favor' she must come'; make her
laugh at that'.
IV. DESCRIPTION OF A BATTLE,
Yet still Lord Marmion's falcon flew'
With wavering flight', v^hW^ fiercer grew
Around, the battle yell.
The border slogan rent the sky',
A Home'l a Gordon'] was the cry';
Loud' were the clanging blows';
Advanced', --forced back', --now low', --now high'.
The pennon sunk'--and rose';
As bends the bark's mast in the gale'.
When rent are rigging', shrouds', and sail',
It wavered 'mid the foes'.
The war, that for a space did fail',
Now trebly thundering swelled the gale'.
And Stanley'] was the cry;
A light on Marmion's visage spread'.
And fired his glazing eye':--
With dying' hand', above his head',
He shook the fragment of his blade'.
And shouted', --''Victory'!
Charge', Chester', charge'! On' Stanley', on']"—
Were the last words of Marmion.
36 ECLECTIC SERIES.
V. LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER,
For the inflections and emphasis in this selection, lei the pupil
be guided by his own judgment.
A chieftain to the Highlands bound.
Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry!
And ril give thee a silver pound.
To row us o'er the ferry."
"Now, who be ye would cross Loch-Gyle
This dark and stormy water?"
"Oh! I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this. Lord Ullin's daughter,
"And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together.
For should he find us in the glen.
My blood would stain the heather.
"His horsemen hard behind us ride;
Should they our steps discover.
Then who will cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover?"
Out spoke the hardy Highland wight
"I'll go, my chief— I'm ready:
It is not for your silver bright.
But for your winsome lady:
"And, by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So, though the waves are raging white,
I'll row you o'er the ferry."
By this, the storm grew loud apace.
The water wraith was shrieking;
And, in the scowl of heaven, each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
FIFTH READER. 37
But still, as wilder grew the wind,
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer,
"Oh I haste thee, haste!" the lady cries
"Though tempest round us gather,
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father."
The boat has left the stormy land,
A stormy sea before her;
When, oh I too strong for human hand,
The tempest gathered o'er her.
And still they rowed, amid the roar
Of waters fast prevailing;
Lord UUin reached that fatal shore.
His wrath was changed to wailing.
For sore dismay through storm and shade
His child he did discover;
One lovely hand she stretched for aid.
And one was round her lover,
"Come back! come back!" he cried, in grief,
"Across this stormy water;
And I'll forgive your Highland chief.
My daughter! O, my daughter!"
'T was vain: the loud waves lashed the shore,
Return or aid preventing;
The waters wild went o'er his child.
And he was left lamenting-
--Thomas Campbell
ALPHABETICAL LIST OF AUTHORS.
Name.
Page.
1. ALCOTT. LOUISA M.
1 10
2. ALLEN. Mrs. E. A.
236
3. ALLINGHAM, W.
62
4. ARNOLD, GEORGE
348
5. ARTHUR. T. S.
44
6. AUDUBON
315
7. BANCROFT
241
8. BIBLE, THE
72. 161
9. BLACK. WILLIAM
338
10. BRIGGS, C. F.
263
1 1. BROOKS, C. T.
342
12. BRYANT
117. 135
13. BUCKINGHAM. J. T.
13S
14. BURRITT, ELIHU
193
15. CAMPBELL, THOMAS
36
16. CHANNING, WILLIAM ELLERY 2E4
17. COLLINS, WILLIAM
195
18. COOK. ELIZA
59
19. COOPER, JAMES FEN 1 MORE 2 96
20. COWPER
176
21. DICKENS
247
22. DIMOND. WILLIAM
312
23. EASTMAN, C. G.
49
24.EDGEWORTH, MARIA
273
25. FINCH, F. M.
1S3
26.FOLLEN, MRS. E. L.
245
27. GOLDSMITH.
S7
28. GOODRICH. S. G.
lOS
29. GRIMKE", THOMAS S.
350
30. HALE. Mrs. S. J,
67
31. HARTE. FRANCIS BRET
349
32. HAWES, W. P.
ISO
33. HAWTHORNE
103
34. HELPS, ARTHUR
309
35. HEMANS. FELICIA D.
171
36. HOOD. THOMAS
143
37. HUNT. LEIGH
95
38. INGELOW, JEAN
52
39. IRVING 119.
132. 253
40. JERROLD, DOUGLAS
151
41. JOHNSON. SAMUEL
34S
42. KEBLE, JOHN
195
43. KINGSLEY, CHARLES
71
44. KNOWLES, SHERIDAN
207
Name, Page,
45. LAMB, CHARLES 383
46. LONDON TIMES 156
47. LONGFELLOW 01, 154. 276
48. LOWELL 228
49. MARTINEAU, HARRIET 302
50. MITCHELL, DONALD G. 292
51. MONTGOMERY. JAMES 189
52. MOORE 295
53. MORRIS. G. P. 351
54. NOBLE. L. L. 177
55. NORTON, MRS. C. E. S. 269
56. O'BRIEN. FITZ-JAMES 326
57. PIATT. J. J. 246
58. PIATT. MRS. S. M. B. 252
59. PROCTER, ADELAIDE ANNE 258
60. READ, T. B. 200
61. RUSSELL, JOHN 77
62. SANGSTER. MRS. M. E. 168
63. SAXE, J. G. 290
64. SHAKESPEARE 328
65. SHEPHERD 262
66. SOUTHEY. MRS. C. A. 12
67. SOUTHEY, ROBERT 82. 128
68. SPRAGUE, CHARLES 271
69. STODDARD. R. H. 319
70. TAYLOR. B. F. 239
71. TAYLOR, JANE 114, 288
72. TENNYSON 277
73. THACKERAY 321
74. THACKER, CELIA 282
75. THOMPSON. D. P. 234
76. THOMSON, JAMES 159
77. THOREAU, H. D. 278
78. TOOD, JOHN 204
79. WARNER, CHARLES DUDLEY 50
50. "CAPITAL" (WASHINGTONj 185
51. WEBSTER 196
52. WEEMS, MASON L. 88
53. WHITTIER 63,74. 259
54. WILSON. JOHN 96
55. WIRT, WILLIAM 280
56. WOLFE, CHARLES 301
87. WOTTON. SIR HENRY 308
M?GUFFEY'S,
^It^TH f^ ADEE(.
m-^^c^^^y^ -
I
i'^u:;!l«:iSJLJliii|i(!iti;ili!iLBiJ3^e!fl^i;i;£
McGuffey's
Fifth Reader
l.THE GOOD READER,
I . Il is lold of Frederick the Great. King of Prussia, that, as he
was seated one day in his private room, a written petition was
brought to him with the request that it should he immediately read.
40 ECLECTIC SERIES.
The King had just returned from hunting, and the glare of the sun,
or some other cause, had so dazzled his eyes that he found il
difficult to make out a single word of the writing-
2. His private secretary happened to be absent; and the soldier
who brought the petition could not read. There was a page, or
favorite boy servant, waiting in the hall, and upon him the King
called. The page was a son of one of the noblemen of the court,
but proved to be a very poor reader.
3. In the first place, he did not articulate distinctly. He huddled
his words together in the utterance, as if they were syllables of one
long word, which he must get through with as speedily as
possible. His pronunciation was bad, and he did not modulate his
voice so as to bring out the meaning of what he read. Every
sentence was uttered with a dismal monotony of voice, as if il did
not differ in any respect from that which preceded it.
4. "Stop!" said the King, impatiently- "Is it an auctioneer's list
of goods to be sold that you are hurrying over? Send your
companion to me." Another page who stood at the door now
entered, and to him the King gave the petition. The second page
began by hemming and clearing his throat in such an affected
manner that the King jokingly asked him whether he had not slept
in the public garden, with the gate open, the night before.
5. The second page had a good share of self-conceit, however,
and so was not greatly confused by the King's jest. He determined
that he would avoid the mistake which his comrade had made. So
he commenced reading the petition slowly and with great
formality, emphasizing every word, and prolonging the
articulation of every syllable. But his manner was so tedious that
the King cried out, "Stop! are you reciting a lesson in the
elementary sounds? Out of the room! But no: stay! Send me that
little girl who is sitting there by the fountain."
6. The girl thus pointed out by the King was a daughter
FIFTH READER. 41
of one of the laborers employed by the royal gardener; and she had
come to help her father weed the flower beds. It chanced that, like
many of the poor people in Prussia, she had received a good
education. She was somewhat alarmed when she found herself in
the King's presence, but took courage when the King told her that
he only wanted her to read for him, as his eyes were weak.
7. Now, Ernestine (for this was the name of the little girl) was
fond of reading aloud, and often many of the neighbors would
assemble at her father's house to hear her; those who could not
read themselves would come to her, also, with their letters from
distant friends or children, and she thus formed the habil of
reading various sorts of handwriting promptly and well.
8. The King gave her the petition, and she rapidly glanced
through the opening lines to get some idea of what it was about.
As she read, her eyes began to glisten, and her breast to heave.
"What is the matter?" asked the King; "don't you know how to
read?" "Oh, yes! sire," she replied, addressing him with the title
usually applied to him: "I will now read it, if you please."
9. The two pages wore about to leave the room. "Remain," said
the King, The little girl began to read the petition. It was from a
poor widow, whose only son had been drafted to serve in the
army, although his health was delicate and his pursuits had been
such as to unfit him for military life. His father had been killed in
battle, and the son had a strong desire to become a portrait painter.
10. The writer told her story in a simple, concise manner, that
carried to the heart a belief of its truth; and Ernestine read it with
so much feeling, and with an artic ulation so just, in tones so pure
and distinct, that when she had finished, the King, into whose eyes
the tears had started, exclaimed, "Oh! now I understand what it is
all about; but 1 might never have known, certainly I never should
have felt, its meaning had I trusted to these young
42
ECLECTIC SERIES
gentlemen, whom I now dismiss from my service for one year,
advising them to occupy their time in learning to read."
11. "As for you, my young lady," continued the King, "I know
you will ask no better reward for your trouble than the pleasure of
carrying to this poor widow my order for her son's immediate
discharge. Let me see whether you can write as well as you can
read. Take this pen. and write as I dictate." He then dictated an
order, which Ernestine wrote, and he signed. Calling one of his
guards, he bade him go with the girl and see that the order was
obeyed.
12. How much happiness was Ernestine the means of
bestowing through her good elocution, united to the happy
circumstance that brought it to the knowledge of the King! First,
there were her poor neighbors, to whom she could give instruction
and entertainment. Then, there was the poor widow who sent the
petition, and who not only regained her son, but received through
Ernestine an order for him to paint the King's likeness: so that the
poor boy soon rose to great distinction, and had more orders than
he could attend to. Words could not express his gratitude, and that
of his mother, to the little girl.
13. And Ernestine had, moreover, the satisfaction of aiding her
father to rise in the world, so that he became the King's chief
gardener. The King did not forget her, but had her well educated at
his own expense. As for the two pages, she was indirectly the
means of doing them good, also: for, ashamed of their bad
reading, they commenced studying in earnest, till they overcame
the faults that had offended the King. Both finally rose to
distinction, one as a lawyer, and the other as a statesman; and they
owed their advancement in life chiefly to their good elocution.
MuHidt'o-uy, lack of L^ij'ietff. 4. Ai^lesf ^, icrmvt^rtit <{ti(l i^iUy^
DEFINITIONS. -1. Pe-li'tion, a formal request. 3. Ar-lic'u-late,
To Utter the elenientaiy sounds. Mod'u-lale, to vary or inflect Mo-
not'o-ny, lack of variety . 4. Af-fecl'ed, unnatural and silly.
FIFTH READER.
43
Q. DiiSl'^fi^ idectntt l^ IgL l(^, Coii^Uh^ brie f and JisU qfrneezmnij,
NOTES. -Frederick II. of Prussia (i. 1712. d. 1788}, or
Frederick the Great, as he was called, was one of the greatest of
German rulers. He was distinguished for his military exploits, for
his wise and just government, and for his literary attainments. He
wrote many able works in the French language. Many pleasant
anecdotes are told of this king, of which the one given in the
lesson is a fair sample.
II. THE BLUEBELL,
L There is a story I have heard--
A poet learned it of a bird.
And kepi its music every word—
2. A story of a dim ravine,
O'er which the towering tree tops lean,
With one blue rift of sky between;
3. And there, two thousand years ago,
A little flower as white as snow
Swaved in the silence to and fro.
4. Day after day. with longing eye.
The floweret watched the narrow sky.
And fleecy clouds that floated by.
5. And through the darkness, night by night,
One gleaming star would climb the height.
And cheer the lonely floweret's sight.
6. Thus, watching the blue heavens afar.
And the rising of its favorite star,
A slow change came--but not to mar;
9. Drafted, selected by lot 10. Con-cise\ brief and full of
meaning. 11. Dis-charge', release. Dic'tale, to utter so that another
may write it down, 12. Dis-tinc'tion, honorable and notable
position, Ex-press\ to make known the feelings of
44
ECLECTIC SERIES.
1. For softly o'er its petals white
There crept a blueness. like the light
Of skies upon a summer night;
8. And in its chalice, I am told,
The bonny bell was formed to hold
A tiny star that gleamed like gold.
9. Now, little people, sweet and true.
I find a lesson here for you
Writ in the floweret's hell of blue:
10. The patient child whose watchful eye
Strives after all things pure and high,
Shall take their image by and by,
colored hav^s of a JioTEer. S. Chari^, a cup or hotd. Edn'iiy,
IIL THE GENTLE HAND,
Timolhy S. Arthur (b. 1809, d. 1885) was born near
Newburgh, N-Y., but passed most of his life at Baltimore and
Philadelphia. His opportunities for good schooling were quite
limited, and he may be considered a self-educated man. He was
the author of more than a hundred volumes, principally novels of a
domestic and moral tone, and of many shorter lales--magazine
articles, etc. "Ten Nights in a Barroom," and "Three Years in a
Mantrap," are among his best known works.
DEFINITIONS. -2. Rift, a narrow opening, a cleft. 3.
Swayed, swung. 5. Height [pro. hite), an elevated place. 7.
Pet'als, the colored leaves of a flower. 8. Chafice, a cup or
bowL Bon'ny, beautifuL
1. When and where it matters not now to relate— but once upon
a time, as I was passing through a thinly peopled district of
country, night came down upon me almost unawares. Being on
fool, I could not hope to gain the village toward which my steps
were directed, until a
FIFTH READER. 45
late hour; and 1 therefore preferred seeking shelter and a night's
lodging at the first humble dwelling that presented itself.
2. Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows, when I
found myself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from the small
uncurtained windows of which the light shone with a pleasant
promise of good cheer and comfort. The house stood within an
inclosure, and a short distance from the road along which I was
moving with wearied feet.
3. Turning aside, and passing through the ill-hung gate, I
approached the dwelling. Slowly the gale swung on its wooden
hinges, and the rattle of its latch, in closing, did not disturb the air
until I had nearly reached the porch in front of the house, in which
a slender girl, who had noticed my entrance, stood awaiting my
arrivah
4. A deep, quick bark answered, almost like an echo, the sound
of the shutting gate, and, sudden as an apparition, the form of an
immense dog loomed in the doorway. At the instant when he was
about to spring, a light hand was laid upon his shaggy neck, and a
low word spoken,
5. "Go in. Tiger," said the girl, not in a voice of authority, yet in
her gentle tones was the consciousness that she would be obeyed;
and, as she spoke, she lightly bore upon the animal with her hand,
and he turned away and disappeared within the dwelling.
6. "Who's that?" A rough voice asked the question; and now a
heavy-looking man took the dog's place in the door.
7. "How far is it to G— ?" I asked, not deeming it best to say, in
the beginning, that I sought a resting place for the night,
8. "To G— !" growled the man, but not so harshly as at first. "It's
good six miles from here."
9. "A long distance; and Tm a stranger and on foot," said L "If
you can make room for me until morning, I will be very thankful."
46 ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. I saw the girl's hand move quickly up his arm, until it rested
on his shoulder, and now she leaned to him still closer,
1 L "Come in- We'll try what can be done for you." There was a
change in the man's voice that made me wonder, I entered a large
room, in which blazed a brisk fire. Before the fire sat two stout
lads, who turned upon me their heavy eyes, with no very welcome
greeting. A middle-aged woman was standing at a table, and two
children were amusing themselves with a kitten on the floor.
12. "A stranger, mother," said the man who had given me so
rude a greeting at the door; "and he wants us to let him stay all
night."
13. The woman looked at me doubtingly for a few moments,
and then replied coldly, ''We don't keep a public house,"
14. "I'm aware of that, ma'am," said I; "but night has overtaken
me, and it's a long way yet to G— ,"
15. "Too far for a tired man to go on fool," said the master of
the house, kindly, "so it's no use talking about it, mother; we must
give him a bed."
16. So unobtrusively that I scarce noticed the movement, the
girl had drawn to her mother's side. What she said to her 1 did not
hear, for the brief words were uttered in a low voice; but I noticed,
as she spoke, one small, fair hand rested on the woman's hand.
17. Was there magic in that touch? The woman's repulsive
aspect changed into one of kindly welcome, and she said, "Yes,
it's a long way to G--. 1 guess we can find a place for him."
18. Many times more during that evening, did 1 observe the
magic power of that hand and voice— the one gentle yet potent as
the other. On the next morning, breakfast being over, I was
preparing to take my departure when my host informed me that if I
would wait for half an hour he would give me a ride in his wagon
to G--, as
FIFTH READER. 47
business required him lo go there. I was very well pleased lo
accept of the invitation.
19. In due time, the farmer's wagon was driven into the road
before the house, and I was invited to get in. I noticed the horse as
a rough-looking Canadian pony, with a certain air of stubborn
endurance. As the farmer took his seat by my side, the family
came to the door to see us off.
20. "Dick!" said the farmer in a peremptory voice, giving the
rein a quick Jerk as he spoke. Bui Dick moved not a step. "Dick!
you vagabond! get up." And the farmer's whip cracked sharply by
the pony's ear.
21. It availed not, however, this second appeal. Dick stood
firmly disobedient. Next the whip was brought down upon him
with an impatient hand; but the pony only reared up a little. Fast
and sharp the strokes were next dealt to the number of half a
dozen. The man might as well have beaten the wagon, for all his
end was gained.
22. A stout lad now came out into the road, and, catching Dick
by the bridle, jerked him forward, using, at the same time, the
customary language on such occasions, but Dick met this new ally
with increased stubbornness, planting his fore feet more firmly
and at a sharper angle with the ground.
23. The impatient boy now struck the pony on the side of the
head with his clinched hand, and jerked cruelly at his bridle. It
availed nothing, however; Dick was not to be wrought upon by
any such arguments,
24. "Don't do so, John!" I turned my head as the maiden's sweet
voice reached my ear. She was passing through the gate into the
road, and in the next moment had taken hold of the lad and drawn
him away from the animal. No strength was exerted in this; she
took hold of his arm, and he obeyed her wish as readily as if he
had no thought beyond her gralification.
25. And now that soft hand was laid gently on the pony's neck,
and a single low word spoken. How instantly were
48
ECLECTIC SERIES.
the tense muscles relaxed--how quickly tlie stubborn air vanished!
26. "Poor Dick!" said the maiden, as she stroked his neck
lightly, or softly patted it with a childlike hand. "Now, go along,
you provoking fellow!" she added, in a half-chiding, yet
affectionate voice, as she drew up the bridle.
27. The pony turned toward her. and rubbed his head against
her arm for an instant or two; then, pricking up his ears, he started
off at a light, cheerful trot, and went on his way as freely as if no
silly crotchet had ever entered his stubborn brain.
28. "What a wonderful power that hand possesses!" said I,
speaking to my companion, as we rode away.
29. He looked at me for a moment, as if my remark had
occasioned surprise. Then a light came into his countenance, and
he said briefly, "She's good! Everybody and everything loves her."
30. Was that, indeed, the secret of her power? Was the quality
of her soul perceived in the impression of her hand, even by brute
beasts! The father's explanation was doubtless the true one. Yet
have I ever since wondered, and still do wonder, at the potency
which lay in that maiden's magic touch. 1 have seen something of
the same power, showing itself in the loving and the good, but
never to the extent as instanced in her, whom, for want of a better
name, I must still call "Gentle Hand."
Definition's.^- — 2- TlC-9ln'i-1yp t^fliffifiurftoorf. 16. TJn-oVtiV^
Blve-ly, 7i/>t ni^reaftltf^ yjiodf..siIif. 17. Ue-|>al'sive, rf-prUintf^ fftrhiri-
diuf/- 18. r«'£etil, poiofu^'ul, ojfectiiK. Llusl, p?ie Jriym. wfiotn.
another rce&in&s /o*?rf, t^ilt^inif, a" eni^tuinit^^iti, 20, Fer'em^tD-ryj
Cifmmar\f!mgt decmit^ 21. A-vSkiled'j was of tise, ttad ^fecL
36h Chjd'"inj^, s^Ming^ Tefrn^ififf. *i?7* Oriitcli'et, a perverse ^ricj^
DEFINITIONS. -2. W'\-cin'[-ty. tieighborhood. 16. Un-ob-tru'-
s']vc-]y. not noticeably, modestly. 17. Re-pul'sive, repelling,
forbidding, 18. Po'tent, powerful, effective. Host, one from whom
another receives food, lodging, or entertainment. 20. Per'emp-to-
ry. commanding, decisive. 21. A-vailed', was of use, had effect.
22- Al-ly', a confederate, one who unites with another in some
purpose. 25. Tense, strained to stiffness, rigid. Re-laxed',
loosened. 20. Chid'ing, scolding, rebuking. 27. Crolch'et, a
perverse fancy, a whim. 30. In'slanced, mentioned as an example.
FIFTH READER.
49
IV. THE GRANDFATHER.
Charles G. Eastman [b, 1816. f/. 1861) was born in Maine, bu)
removed at an early age to Vermont, where lie was connected with
the press at Burlington. Woodstock, and Monlpelier- He published
a volume of poems in 1848, written in a happy lyric and ballad
style, and faithfully portraying rural life in New England.
1 . The farmer sat in his easy-chair
Smoking his pipe of clay,
While his hale old wife with busy care,
Was clearing the dinner away;
A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes.
On her grandfather's knee, was catching flies.
2. The old man laid his hand on her head,
With a tear on his wrinkled face.
He thought how often her mother, dead.
Had sal in the selfsame place;
As the tear stole down from his half-shut eye,
"Don't smoke!" said the child, "how it makes you cry!"
3. The house dog lay stretched out on the floor.
Where the shade, afternoons, used to steal;
The busy old wife by the open door
Was turning the spinning wheel.
And the old brass clock on the manteltree
Had plodded along to almost three.
4. Still the farmer sat in his easy-chair.
While close to his heaving breast
The moistened brow and the cheek so fair
Of his sweet grandchild were pressed;
His head bent down, all her soft hair lay;
Fast asleep were they both on that summer day.
I>i£riNiTinEff!i. — 1. mie, I^ealUt^. 3. Ma.iB^tel-trcej shelf ovir a
jfrfp/acf. PlS^^iled, went xiowly, 4, USaViugi nsin^ ofid fallij^^
(5.-4.)
DEFINITIONS. -1. Ua]Gjteallhy. 3. Mixn'XQi-trQt, shelf over o
fireplace. Plod'ded, went slowly . 4. Heaving, rising and falling.
50 ECLECTIC SERIES.
V. A BOY ON A FARM.
Charles Dudley Warner(6. 1829,--) was born al Plainfield,
Mass. In 1851 he graduated at Hamilton College, and in 1856 was
admitted to the bar at Philadelphia, but moved to Chicago to
practice his profession. There he remained until 1860, when he
became connected with the press at Hartford, Conn., and has ever
since devoted himself to literature. "My Summer in a Garden,"
"Saunterings," and "Backlog Studies" are his best known works.
The following extract is from "Being a Boy."
L Say what you will about the general usefulness of boys, it is
my impression that a farm without a boy would very soon come to
grief. What the boy does is the life of the farm. He is the factotum,
always in demand, always expected to do the thousand
indispensable things thai nobody else will do. Upon him fall all
the odds and ends, the most difficult things.
2, After everybody else is through, he has to finish up. His
work is like a woman's,— perpetually waiting on others. Everybody
knows how much easier it is to eat a good dinner than it is to wash
the dishes afterwards. Consider what a boy on a farm is required
to do, --things that must be done, or life would actually stop.
3, It is understood, in the first place, that he is to do all the
errands, to go to the store, to the post office, and to carry all sorts
of messages. If he had as many legs as a cenliped, they would tire
before night. His two short limbs seem to him entirely inadequate
to the task. He would like to have as many legs as a wheel has
spokes, and rotate about in the same way.
4. This he sometimes tries to do; and the people who have seen
him "turning cart wheels" along the side of the road, have
supposed that he was amusing himself and idling his time; he was
only trying to invent a new mode of locotnolion, so that he could
economize his legs, and do his errands with greater dispatch.
5. He practices standing on his head, in order to accustom
himself to any position. Leapfrog is one of his
FIFTH READER.
51
methods of gelling over the ground quickly. He would willingly
go an errand any distance if he could leapfrog it with a few other
boys.
6. He has a natural genius for combining pleasure with
business. This is the reason why, when he is sent to the spring for
a pitcher of water, he is absent so long; for he slops to poke the
frog that sits on the stone, or, if (here is a penstock, to put his hand
over the spout, and squirt the water a little while.
7. He is the one who spreads the grass when the men have cut
it; he mows it away in the barn; he rides the horse, to cultivate the
corn, up and down the hoi, weary rows; he picks up the potatoes
when they are dug; he drives the cows night and morning; he
brings wood and water, and splits kindling: he gets up the horse,
and puts out the horse; whether he is in the house or out of it, there
is always something for him to do-
8. Just before the school in winter he shovels paths; in summer
he lurns the grindstone. He knows where there are lots of
winlergreens and sweet flags, but instead of going for them, he is
to stay indoors and pare apples, and stone raisins, and pound
something in a mortar. And yet, with his mind full of schemes of
what he would like to do, and his hands full of occupations, he is
an idle boy. who has nothing to busy himself with but school and
chores!
9. He would gladly do all the work if somebody else would do
the chores, he thinks; and yet 1 doubt if any boy ever amounted to
anything in the world, or was of much use as a man, who did not
enjoy the advantages of a liberal education in the way of chores.
Definitions. — 1. Fsie-tfr'tiimj a psriron empJ^yrrf io do all itiTidis
o/^oyJt, Ju-dJs j>C"n'5a-bl&, al^o!t(ie(y nsc^jsarj^. 3- P^r-pt-fu-al-ly,
am^n^aUy^ 3-. Cen'ti-|>fed, an tnje-c( istth a. grs<it numlier of fi^.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Fac-to'tum, a person employed To do all
kinds of work. In-dis-pen'sa-ble, absolutely necessary. 2. Per-
pet'u-al-ly, continually , 3. Cen'ti-ped, an insect with a great
number of feet. 4. E-con'o-mize, to save. Dis-patch', diligence,
haste. 6. Pen'-stock, a wooden tube for conducting water. 8.
Chores, the light work of the household either within or without
doors.
52 ECLECTIC SERIES.
VL THE SINGING LESSON.
Jean Ingelow {b. 1830, (/. 1897) was born at Boston,
Lincolnshire, England. Her fame as a poetess was at once
established upon the publication of her "Poems" in 1863; since
which time several other volumes have appeared. The most
generally admired of her poems are "Songs of Seven" and "The
High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire," She has also written
several successful novels, of which, "Off the Skelligs" is the most
popular. "Stories Told to a Child," "The Cumberers," "Poor Mat,"
"Studies for Stories," and "Mopsa, the Fairy" are also well known.
Miss Ingelow resided in London, England, and spent much of her
lime in deeds of charity.
1. A nightingale made a mistake;
She sang a few notes out of tune:
Her heart was ready lo break,
And she hid away from the moon.
She wrung her claws, poor thing.
But was far too proud lo weep;
She tucked her head under her wing.
And pretended lo be asleep.
2. A lark, arm in arm with a thrush,
Came sauntering up to the place;
The nightingale felt herself blush,
Though feathers hid her face;
She knew they had heard her song.
She fell them snicker and sneer;
She thought thai life was too long.
And wished she could skip a year,
3. "O nightingale!" cooed a dove;
"O nightingale! what's the use?
You bird of beauty and love,
Why behave like a goose?
Don't sulk away from our sight.
Like a common, contemptible fowl;
You bird of joy and delight.
Why behave like an owl?
FIFTH READER.
53
4. "Only think of all you have done;
Only think of all you can do;
A false note is really fun
From such a bird as you !
Lift up your proud little crest.
Open your musical beak;
Other birds have to do their best.
You need only to speak!"
6. The nightingale shyly look
Her head from under her wing.
And, giving the dove a look.
Straightway began to sing.
There was never a bird could pass;
The night was divinely calm;
And the people stood on the grass
To hear that wonderful psalm.
6. The nightingale did not care.
She only sang to the skies;
Her song ascended Ihere,
And there she fixed her eyes-
The people that stood below
She knew but little about;
And this tale has a moral, 1 know,
If you'll try and find it out.
DEFrrniroNS — 2- S?imi'ter-irgj ityinrierin^ uUy, if^rdHvg-
8. ilor'al, ik^ prtjcdcut ibSSvfi nsfkic^ tun^thing is_^led t^f teach.
NOTE. --The nightingale is a small bird, about six inches in
length, with a coat of dark-brown feathers above and of grayish,
white beneath. Its voice is astonishingly strong and sweet, and,
when wild, it usually sings throughout the evening and night from
April to the middle of summer. The bird is common in Europe, but
is not found in America.
DEFINITIONS. --2. Saun'ler-ing. wandering icily, strolling.
Snick'er, To laugh in a half-suppressed niauner. A. Crest, a tuft
growing on an animal's head. 5. Di-vine'ly, in a supreme degree.
6. Mor'aK the practical lesson which anything Is fitted to teach.
54 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Vli. DO NOT MEDDLE.
1. About twenty years ago there lived a singular gentleman in
the Old Hall among the elm trees. He was about three-score years
of age, very rich, and somewhat odd in many of his habits, but for
generosity and benevolence he had no equal.
2, No poor cottager stood in need of comforts, which he was
not ready to supply; no sick man or woman languished for want of
his assistance; and not even a beggar, unless a known impostor,
went empty-handed from the Hall. Like the village pastor
described in Goldsmith's poem of "The Deserted Village,"
"His house was known to all the vagrant train;
He chid their wand'rings, but relieved their pain;
The long-remembered beggar was his guest.
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast."
3, Now it happened that the old gentleman wanted a boy to wait
upon him at table, and to attend him in different ways, for he was
very fond of young people. But much as he liked the society of the
young, he had a great aversion to that curiosity in which many
young people are apt to indulge. He used to say, "The boy who
will peep into a drawer will be tempted to take something out of it;
and he who will steal a penny in his youth will steal a pound in his
manhood."
4. No sooner was it known that the old gentleman was in want
of a boy than twenty applications were made for the situation; but
he determined not to engage anyone until he had in some way
ascertained that he did not possess a curious, prying disposition.
5. On Monday morning seven lads, dressed in their Sunday
clothes, with bright and happy faces, made their appearance at the
Hall, each of them desiring to obtain the situation. Now the old
gentleman, being of a singular disposition.
FIFTH READER. 55
had prepared a room in such a way that he might easily know if
any of the young people who applied were given to meddle
unnecessarily with things around them, or to peep into cupboards
and drawers. He look care that the lads who were then at Elm Tree
Hall should be shown into this room one after another,
6. And first, Charles Brown was sent into the room, and told
that he would have to wail a little. So Charles sat down on a chair
near the door. For some lime he was very quiet, and looked about
him; but there seemed to be so many curious things in the room
that at last he got up to peep at them.
7. On the table was placed a dish cover, and Charles wanted
sadly to know what was under it, but he felt afraid of lifting it up.
Bad habits are strong things; and, as Charles was of a curious
disposition, he could not withstand the temptation of taking one
peep. So he lifted up the cover.
8. This turned out to be a sad affair; for under the dish cover
was a heap of very light feathers; part of the feathers, drawn up by
a current of air, flew about the room, and Charles, in his fright,
putting the cover down hastily, puffed the rest of them off the
table,
9. What was to be done? Charles began to pick up the feathers
one by one; but the old gentleman, who was in an adjoining room,
hearing a scuffle, and guessing the cause of it, entered the room, to
the consternation of Charles Brown, who was very soon dismissed
as a boy who had not principle enough to resist even a slight
temptation.
10. When the room was once more arranged, Henry Wilkins
was placed there until such time as he should be sent for. No
sooner was he left to himself than his attention was attracted by a
plate of fine, ripe cherries. Now Henry was uncommonly fond of
cherries, and he thought it would be impossible to miss one cherry
among so many. He looked and longed, and longed and looked,
for some
56 ECLECTIC SERIES.
lime, and just as he had got off his seal to lake one, he heard, as he
thought, a fool coming to the door; but no, it was a false alarm.
1 1. Taking fresh courage, he went cautiously and took a very
fine cherry, for he was determined to take but one, and put it into
his mouth. It was excellent; and then he persuaded himself thai he
ran no risk in taking another; this he did, and hastily popped it into
his mouth-
12. Now, the old gentleman had placed a few artificial cherries
at the top of the others, filled with Cayenne pejper; one of these
Henry had unfortunately taken, and it made his month smart and
burn most intolerably. The old gentleman heard him coughing,
and knew very well what was the matter. The boy that would take
what did not belong to him, if no more than a cherry, was not the
boy for him, Henry Wilkins was sent about his business without
delay, with his mouth almost as hot as if he had put a burning coal
in to it.
13. Rufus Wilson was next introduced into the room and left to
himself; but he had not been there ten minutes before he began to
move from one place to another. He was of a bold, resolute
temper, but not overburdened with principle; for if he could have
opened every cupboard, closet, and drawer in the house, without
being found out, he would have done it directly.
14. Having looked around the room, he noticed a drawer to the
table, and made up his mind to peep therein. But no sooner did he
lay hold of the drawer knob than he set a large bell ringing, which
was concealed under the table. The old gentleman immediately
answered the summons, and entered the room.
15. Rufus was so startled by the sudden ringing of the bell, that
all his impudence could not support him. He looked as though
anyone might knock him down with a feather. The old gentleman
asked him if he had rung the bell because he wanted anything.
Rufus was much confused.
FIFTH READER. 57
and stammered, and tried to excuse himself, but all to no purpose,
for it did not prevent him from being ordered off the premises.
16. George Jones was then shown into the room by an old
steward; and being of a cautious disposition, he touched nothing,
but only looked at the things about him. At last he saw that a
closet door was a little open, and, thinking it would be impossible
for anyone to know that he had opened it a little more, he very
cautiously opened it an inch farther, looking down at the bottom of
the door, that it might not catch against anything and make a
noise.
17. Now had he looked at the top, instead of the bottom, it
might have been better for him; for to the top of the door was
fastened a plug, which filled up the hole of a small barrel of shot-
He ventured to open the door another inch, and then another, till,
the plug being pulled out of the barrel, the leaden shot began to
pour out at a strange rate. At the bottom of the closet was placed a
tin pan, and the shot falling upon this pan made such a clatter that
George was frightened half out of his senses.
18. The old gentleman soon came into the room to inquire what
was the matter, and there he found George nearly as pale as a
sheet. George was soon dismissed.
19- It now came the turn of Albert Jenkins to be put into the
room. The other boys had been sent to their homes by different
ways, and no one knew what the experience of the other had been
in the room of trial.
20. On the table stood a small round box, with a screw top to it,
and Albert, thinking it contained something curious, could not be
easy without unscrewing the lop; but no sooner did he do this than
out bounced an artificial snake, full a yard long, and fell upon his
arm. He started back, and uttered a scream which brought the old
gentleman to his elbow. There stood Albert, with the bottom of the
box in one hand, the top in the other, and the snake on the floor.
58
ECLECTIC SERIES.
21. "Come, come/' said the old gentleman, "one snake is quite
enough to have in the house at a lime; therefore, the sooner you
are gone the better." With that he dismissed him, without waiting a
moment for his reply.
22. William Smith next entered the room, and being left alone
soon began to amuse himself in looking at the curiosities around
him. William was not only curious and prying, but dishonest, too,
and observing that the key was left in the drawer of a bookcase, he
stepped on tiptoe in that direction. The key had a wire fastened to
it, which communicated with an electrical machine, and William
received such a shock as he was not likely to forget. No sooner did
he sufficiently recover himself to walk, than he was told to leave
the house, and let other people lock and unlock their own drawers.
23. The other boy was Harry Gordon, and though he was left in
the room full twenty minutes, he never during that time stirred
from his chair. Harry had eyes in his head as well as the others,
but he had more integrity in his heart; neither the dish cover, the
cherries, the drawer knob, the closet door, the round box, nor the
key tempted him to rise from his feet: and the consequence was
that, in half an hour after, he was engaged in the service of the old
gentleman at Elm Tree HalL He followed his good old master to
his grave, and received a large legacy for his upright conduct in
his service.
DEFfSixrOwfi. ^5- Lan'ffuisheii, suffered, sank <ftwa^. Ttn-ptia'^
tor, a deceiver. 3. A-Ttl'^sion, diilike. Tn-dOlge't So gine ^^ly so.
PonTLd, a Briti'ih denomir^aiiDn of moiiep €f^uat in val^te lo Kthu^^
fld.Sa. 4. Ap-p]l-€a'tion, th€ nrf cf 7fiai^ng a Tetpe^i. 3. CBu-
atsr-im'Uoii^ exccsWw ierror^ "ft>wJfr;>- PTfn'^U|sift^ a yi(/ht rule of
COtiifncL 12. Ar-fci-fr'cial (pro. iir -ti-fj^Vallj made by €a^, net
real. In-tbL'er-jvTslVj. (w o ins^nj^^ ad 70 h€ hom^^ 14. Sum'mi^n^
a en// iG appear* 10^ P-3r-pe.'rl-+^Tii^ej bjiotcisfi^j^ ijamed hj/ actual
f^at 2S- Tn4efiT-ty, Artwcs!^* Leg'a-^y, a giftj hg tt^iSlf 9j per-
wimal properly-
DEFINITIONS. --2- Lan'guished, suffered, sank away. Im-pos'.
tor, a deceiver. 3. A-ver'sion, dislike. In-dulge', to give way to.
Pound, a British denomination of money equal in value to about
$4.86. 4. Ap-pli-ca'tion, the act of making a request. 9. Con-sler-
na'tion, excessive terror, dismay. Prin'ci-ple, a right rule of
conduct. 12. Ar-ti-fi'cial (pro. ar-ti-fish'al), made by art, not real.
In-tol'er-a-bly, in a manner not to be borne. 14. Sum'mons, a
call to appear. 19. Ex-pe'ri-ence, knowledge gained by actual
triaL 23. In-teg'ri-ty. honesty. Leg'a-cy, a gift, by will, of
personal property .
FIFTH READER.
VIIL WORK,
59
Eliza Cook {b. 1817, d. 1889) was born at London. In 1837 she
commenced contributing to periodicals. In 1840 the first collection
of her poems was made. In 1849 she became editor of 'Eliza
Cook's Journal."
1. Work, work, my boy, be not afraid;
Look labor boldly in the face;
Take up the hammer or the spade,
And blush not for your humble place.
2. There's glory in the shuttle's song;
There's triumph in the anvil's stroke;
There's merit in the brave and strong
Who dig the mine or fell the oak,
3. The wind disturbs the sleeping lake,
And bids it ripple pure and fresh;
!t moves the green boughs till they make
Grand music in their leafy mesh.
4. And so the active breath of life
Should stir our dull and sluggard wills;
For are we not created rife
With health, that stagnant torpor kills?
5. I doubt if he who lolls his head
Where idleness and plenty meet.
Enjoys his pillow or his bread
As those who earn the meals they eat.
6. And man is never half so blest
As when the busy day is spent
So as to make his evening rest
A holiday of glad content.
titmt., ina^iiv^. Tor'por, tuziaenB^ siv^ult^. ^ LfiUft, ™c(*J>^j icuiA
DEFINITIONS. -3. Mesh, neWork. 4. Rife, abounding. Stag'nant,
inactive. 2, Tor'por, laziness, stupidity. 5. Lolls, reclines, leans
60 ECLECTIC SERIES.
IX. THE MANIAC.
L A gentleman who had traveled in Europe, relates that he one
day visited the hospital of Berlin, where he saw a man whose
exterior was very striking. His figure, tall and commanding, was
bending with age, but more with sorrow; the few scattered hairs
which remained on his temples were while almost as the driven
snow, and the deepest melancholy was depicted in his
countenance,
2. On inquiring who he was and what brought him there, he
started, as, if from sleep, and, after looking around him, began
with slow and measured steps to stride the hall, repealing in a low
but audible voice, "Once one is two; once one is two."
3. Now and then he would slop, and remain with his arms
folded on his breast as if in contemplation, for some minutes; then
again resuming his walk, he continued to repeal, "Once one is two;
once one is two." His story, as our traveler understood it, is as
follows:
4. Conrad Lange, collector of the revenues of the city of Berlin,
had long been known as a man whom nothing could divert from
the paths of honesty. Scrupulously exact in an his dealings, and
assiduous in the discharge of all his duties, he had acquired the
good will and esteem of all who knew him, and the confidence of
the minister of finance, whose duty it is to inspect the accounts of
all officers connected with the revenue.
5. On casting up his accounts at the close of a particular year,
he found a deficit of ten thousand ducats. Alarmed at this
discovery, he went to the minister, presented his accounts, and
informed him that he did not know how it had arisen, and that he
had been robbed by some person bent on his ruin.
6. The minister received his accounts, but thinking it a duly to
secure a person who might probably be a defaulter.
FIFTH READER.
61
he caused him to be arrested, and put his accounts into the hands
of one of his secretaries for inspection, who returned them the day
after with the information that the deficiency arose from a
miscalculation; that in multiplying, Mr. Lange had said, otice one
is nro^ instead of once one is one.
1. The poor man was immediately released from confinement,
his accounts returned, and the mistake pointed out. During his
imprisonment, which lasted two days, he had neither eaten, drunk,
nor taken any repose: and when he appeared, his countenance was
as pale as death. On receiving his accounts, he was a long time
silent; then suddenly awaking, as if from a trance, he repeated,
"Once one is two."
8. He appeared to be entirely insensible of his situation; would
neither eat nor drink, unless solicited; and took notice of nothing
that passed around him. While repeating his accustomed phrase, if
anyone corrected him by saying, "Once one is one," his attention
was arrested for a moment, and he said, "Ah, right, once one is
one;" and then resuming his walk, he continued to repeat, "Once
one is two." He died shortly after the traveler left Berlin.
9. This affecting story, whether true or untrue, obviously
abounds with lessons of instruction. Alas! how easily is the human
mind thrown off its balance: especially when it is stayed on this
world only, and has no experimental knowledge of the meaning of
the injunction of Scripture, to cast all our cares upon Him who
carelh for us, and who heareth even the young ravens when they
cry.
painted, represented. 3. C5ii-tRJjri-i>J5''tion, fioMinued atlcnti&n ^f
ike miffit la d?t6 S^jefU^ ^, KS:Y'e-liiiif^, the t^flnuf^l irtfrmrce fidt/H
ioxes, piiUic rents, . €lc. &ein,i|,'pa4oua-]y, curef^lff- As-sld'u-oiia,
e^n^timt i^ a^fpnitW. rVnftni^'j tjie income of a nd^ w a ^ate,
6, Del'i-i^it, kicl\ ujojii' D&^'at, a ^Id coin toortli alt)xU 82^.00,
fl. De-fa,iiU'er, Grh& ichQ fath la i^^ount /or ptiblic Tfioney ijilrttsted
DEFINITIONS.--!. Ex-te'ri-or, outward appearance. De-pict'ed,
painted, represented. 3. Con-lem-pla'lion, co;;f/;n/^^ ^fri^/iHo/i ^/
rlie mind to one subject. 4. Rev'e-nues, the annual income from
taxes, public rents, etc. Scru'pu-lous-ly, carefully. As-sid'u-ous,
constant in attention. Fi-nance', the income of a ruler or a state.
Def'i-cil, lack, want. Duc'at, a gold coin worth about $2.00. 6.
De-fault'er, one who fails to account for public money intrusted
to his care. 9. Ob'vi-ous-iy, plainly. In-junc'tion, a command.
62 ECLECTIC SERIES.
X. ROBIN REDBREAST.
William Allingham (b. 1828, d. 1889) was born at
Ballyshannon, Ireland. His father was a banker, and gave him a
good education in Irish schools. He showed his literary tastes at an
early date, contributing to periodicals, etc. In 1850 he published
his first volume of poems; in 1854 his "Day and Night Songs"
appeared, and in 1864 a poem in twelve chapters entitled
"Lawrence Bloomfield in Ireland," His reputation was established
chiefly through his shorter lyrics, or ballad poetry. In 1864 he
received a literary pension.
1. Good-by, good-by to Summer!
For Summer's nearly done;
The garden smiling faintly,
Cool breezes in the sun;
Our thrushes now are silent.
Our swallows flown away,--
But Robin's here in coat of brown.
And scarlet breslknot gay,
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
Robin sings so sweetly
In the falling of the year.
2. Bright yellow, red, and orange.
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian princes.
But soon they'll turn to ghosts;
The leathery pears and apples
Hang russet on the bough;
It's autumn, autumn, autumn late,
'T will soon be winter now.
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And what will this poor Robin do?
For pinching days are near.
FIFTH READER. 63
3. The fireside for the cricket.
The wheal stack for the mouse.
When trembling night winds whistle
And moan all round the house.
The frosty ways like iron,
The branches plumed with snow,--
Alas! in winter dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?
Robin, Robin Redbreast,
O Robin dear!
And a crumb of bread for Robin,
His little heart to cheer.
Note, --The Old World Robin here referred to is quite different
in appearance and habits from the American Robin. It is only
about half the size of the latter. Its prevailing color above is olive
green, while the forehead, cheeks, throat, and breast are a light
yellowish red. It does not migrate, but is found at all seasons
throughout temperate Europe, Asia Minor, and northern Africa.
XL THE FISH I DID N'T CATCH.
John Greenleaf Whlttier was born near Haverhill, Mass., in
1807, and died at Hampton Falls, N.H., in 1892. His boyhood was
passed on a farm, and he never received a classical education. In
1829 he edited a newspaper in Boston. In the following year he
removed to Hartford, Conn., to assume a similar position. In 1836
he edited an antislavery paper in Philadelphia. In 1840 he removed
to Amesbury, Mass. Mr. Whiltier's parents were Friends, and he
always held to the same faith. He wrote extensively both in prose
and verse. As a poet, he ranked among those most highly
esteemed and honored by his countrymen. "Snow Bound" is one
of the longest and best of his poems.
I. Our bachelor uncle who lived with us was a quiet, genial
man, much given to hunting and fishing; and it was one of the
pleasures of our young life to accompany him on his expeditions
to Great Hill, Brandy-brow Woods, the
64 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Pond, and, best of all, to the Country Brook. We were quite
willing to work hard in the cornfield or the haying lot to finish the
necessary day's labor in season for an afternoon stroll through the
woods and along the brookside.
2. I remember my first fishing excursion as if il were but
yesterday, I have been happy many times in my life, but never
more intensely so than when I received that first fishing pole from
my uncle's hand, and trudged off with him through the woods and
meadows. It was a still, sweet day of early summer; the long
afternoon shadows of the trees lay cool across our path; the leaves
seemed greener, the flowers brighter, the birds merrier, than ever
before.
3. My uncle, who knew by long experience where were the best
haunts of pickerel, considerately placed me at the most favorable
point. I threw out my line as I had so often seen others, and waited
anxiously for a bite, moving the bait in rapid jerks on the surface
of the water in imitation of the leap of a frog. Nothing came of it.
"Try again," said my uncle. Suddenly the bait sank out of sight.
"Now for il," thought I; "here is a fish at last."
4. I made a strong pull, and brought up a tangle of weeds.
Again and again I cast out my line with aching arms, and drew it
back empty, i looked at my uncle appealingly. "Try once more,"
he said; "we fishermen must have patience,"
5. Suddenly something tugged at my line, and swept off with it
into deep water. Jerking il up, I saw a fine pickerel wriggling in
the sun. "Uncle!" 1 cried, looking back in uncontrollable
excitement, "Tve got a fish!" "Not yet," said my uncle. As he
spoke there was a plash in the water; I caught the arrowy gleam of
a scared fish shooting into the middle of the stream, my hook hung
empty from the line. I had lost my prize.
FIFTH READER.
65
j-:-s-i."
6. We are apt to speak of the sorrows of childhood as trifles in
comparison with those of grown-up people; but we may depend
upon it the young folks don't agree with us. Our griefs, modified
and restrained by reason, experience.
66
ECLECTIC SERIES.
and self-respect, keep the proprieties, and. if possible, avoid a
scene; but the sorrow of childhood, unreasoning and all-absorbing,
is a complete abandonment lo the passion. The doll's nose is
broken, and the world breaks up with it; the marble rolls out of
sight, and the solid globe rolls off with the marble.
7. So, overcome with my great and bitter disappointment, T sat
down on the nearest hassock, and for a lime refused to be
comforted, even by my uncle's assurance that there were more fish
in the brook. He refitted my bait, and, putting the pole again in my
hands, told me to try my luck once more.
8. "But remember, boy," he said, with his shrewd smile, "never
brag of catching a fish until he is on dry ground. I've seen older
folks doing that in more ways than one, and so making fools of
themselves. It's no use to boast of anything until it's done, nor
then, either, for it speaks for itself."
9. How often since I have been reminded of the fish that I did
not catch. When I hear people boasting of a work as yet undone,
and trying to anticipate the credit which belongs only to actual
achievement, I call to mind that scene by the brookside, and the
wise caution of my uncle in that particular instance takes the form
of a proverb of universal application: "NEVER BRAG OF YOUR
FISH BEFORE YOU CATCH HIM."
DeFiNrT[0»3. — 1. GiSii'ifil, cheffrfid. 3, IKucits^ piacgs /re*
thoiifffilfnh 4. Ap-pfial'jng-ly, ffi* though iis^fiff fr>r aid, d. M6d-
5-fiedk qwi^ificfi, /^,^f iin^. Pro-pii't-tie^ Jfxf?{t ^fi^/^ms 6r rvles of
conducts A^i-i^TWin*^^ ffngaf/ln^^ tha af^crtiiW ^siiir^t^. ^, ]I|U'><
eock, a raii^d mound *>/ turf. ^. Aii-tly'i-patt3, iv inte i^fbr^ thtf
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Gen'ial, cheerful. 3. Haunts, places frequently
visited. Con-sid'er-ate-ly, ^vith due regard to others, kindly
thoughtful. 4. Ap-peal'ing-ly, as though asking for aid. 6. Mod'i-
fied, qualified, lessened. Pro-pri'e-ties, y?;c(?ii customs or rules of
conduct. Ab-sorb'ing, engaging the attention entirely. 7. Has'sock,
a raised mound of turf. 9. An-tic'i-pate, to take before the proper
time. A-chievc' menu performance, deed.
FIFTH READER. 67
XII. IT SNOWS,
Sarah Josephs Hale (b. 1788?, d.l879) was born in Newport,
N.H. Her maiden name was Buell. In 1814 she married David
Hale, an eminent lawyer, who died in 1822. Left with five children
to support, she turned her attention to literature. In 1828 she
became editor of the "Ladies' Magazine." In 1837 this periodical
was united with "Godey's Lady's Book," of which Mrs, Hale was
literary editor for more than forty years.
1. "It snows!" cries the Schoolboy, "Hurrah!" and his shout
Is ringing through parlor and hall.
While swift as the wing of a swallow, he's out.
And his playmates have answered his call;
It makes the heart leap but to witness their joy;
Proud wealth has no pleasures, I trow,
Like the rapture that throbs in the pulse of the boy
As he gathers his treasures of snow;
Then lay not the trappings of gold on thine heirs,
While health and the riches of nature are theirs.
2. "It snows!" sighs the Imbecile, "Ah!" and his breath
Comes heavy, as clogged with a weight;
While, from the pale aspect of nature in death.
He turns to the blaze of his grate;
And nearer and nearer, his soft-cushioned chair
Is wheeled toward the life-giving flame;
He dreads a chill puff of the snow-burdened air.
Lest it wither his delicate frame;
Oh! small is the pleasure existence can give.
When the fear we shall die only proves that we live!
3. "It snows!" cries the Traveler, "Ho!" and the word
Has quickened his steed's lagging pace;
The wind rushes by, but its howl is unheard,
Unfelt the sharp drift in his face;
For bright through the tempest his own home appeared.
Ay, though leagues intervened, he can see:
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
There's the clear, glowing hearth, and the table prepared,
And his wife with her babes at her knee;
Blest thought! how it lightens the grief-laden hour.
That those we love dearest are safe from its power!
4. "It snows!" cries the Belle, "Dear, how lucky!" and turns
From her mirror to watch the flakes fall,
Like the first rose of summer, her dimpled cheek burns!
While musing on sleigh ride and ball:
There are visions of conquests, of splendor, and mirth.
Floating over each drear winter's day;
But the timings of Hope, on this storm-beaten earth,
Will melt like the snowflakes awav.
Turn, then thee to Heaven, fair maiden, for bliss;
That world has a pure fount ne'er opened in this.
5. "It snows!" cries the Widow, "O God!" and her sighs
Have stifled the voice of her prayer;
Its burden ye'll read in her tear-swollen eyes.
On her cheek sunk with fasting and care.
'T is night, and her fatherless ask her for bread,
But "He gives the young ravens their food,"
And she trusts till her dark hearth adds horror to dread..
And she lays on her last chip of wood.
Poor sufferer! that sorrow thy God only knows;
'T is a most bitter lot to be poor when it snows.
D£F£>riTiOK3, — 1. Trow, to Utirik^ to iielisve. TrJi^pinggj orwu-
^£n£E^ 2. lm'b^ihyGatwhoi6jeiiM&^i£h0rint&dij<rrmini/- 3. Ill-
ttiiiriiiitfrtinrhd WQ.^. Con'quQatfl^ iriusTiphiit succesaWf Tlut'inggt
REMARK. --Avoid reading this piece in a monotonous style.
Try to express the actual feeling of each quotation; and enter into
the descriptions with spirit.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1 . Trow, to think, to believe. Trap'pings,
ovnanents. 2. Im'be-cile, one who is feeble either in body or mind.
3. In-ler-vened', were situated between, 4. Mus'ing, thinking in an
absent-minded way. Con'quests, Triumphs, successes. Tint'ings
slight colorings. 5. Sti'fled, choked, suppressed.
FIFTH READER. 69
XIIL RESPECT FOR THE SABBATH REWARDED.
1 . In the city of Bath, not many years since, lived a barber who
made a practice of following his ordinary occupation on the Lord's
day. As he was on the way to his morning's employment, he
happened to look into some place of worship just as the minister
was giving out his lexl--"Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it
holy." He listened long enough to be convinced that he was
constantly breaking the laws of God and man by shaving and
dressing his customers on the Lord's day. He became uneasy, and
went with a heavy heart to his Sabbath task.
2. At length he took courage, and opened his mind to his
minister, who advised him to give up Sabbath work, and worship
God. He replied that beggary would be the consequence. He had a
flourishing trade, but it would almost all be lost. At length, after
many a sleepless night spent in weeping and praying, he was
determined to cast all his care upon God, as the more he reflected,
the more his duly became apparent.
3. He discontinued his Sabbath work, went constantly and early
to the public services of religion, and soon enjoyed that
satisfaction of mind which is one of the rewards of doing our duty,
and that peace which the world can neither give nor take away.
The consequences he foresaw actually followed. His genteel
customers left him, and he was nicknamed "Puritan" or
"Methodist," He was obliged to give up his fashionable shop, and,
in the course of years, became so reduced as to take a cellar under
the old market house and shave the poorer people.
4. One Saturday evening, between light and dark, a stranger
from one of the coaches, asking for a barber, was directed by the
hostler to the cellar opposite. Coming in hastily, he requested to be
shaved quickly, while they changed horses, as he did not like to
violate the Sabbath.
70 ECLECTIC SERIES.
This was touching the barber on a tender chord- He burst into
tears; asked the stranger to lend him a half-penny to buy a candle,
as it was not light enough to shave him with safety. He did so,
revolving in his mind the extreme poverty to which the poor man
must be reduced.
5. When shaved, he said, "There must be something
extraordinary in your history, which 1 have not now time to hear.
Here is half a crown for you. When I return, I will call and
investigate your case. What is your name?" "William Reed," said
the astonished barber. "William Reed?" echoed the stranger:
"William Reed? by your dialect you are from the West." "Yes, sir,
from Kingston, near Taunton." "William Reed from Kingston,
near Taunton? What was your father's name?" "Thomas." "Had he
any brother?" "Yes, sir, one, after whom I was named; but he went
to the Indies, and, as we never heard from him, we supposed him
to be dead."
6. "Come along, follow me," said the stranger, "I am going to
see a person who says his name is William Reed, of Kingston,
near Taunton. Come and confront him. If you prove to be indeed
he who you say you are, I have glorious news for you. Your uncle
is dead, and has left an immense fortune, which 1 will put you in
possession of when all legal doubts are removed."
7. They went by the coach; saw the pretended William Reed,
and proved him to be an impostor. The stranger, who was a pious
attorney, was soon legally satisfied of the barber's identity, and
told him that he had advertised him in vain. Providence had now
thrown him in his way in a most extraordinary manner, and he had
great pleasure in transferring a great many thousand pounds to a
worthy man, the rightful heir of the property. Thus was man's
extremity God's opportunity. Had the poor barber possessed one
half-penny, or even had credit for a candle, he might have
remained unknown for years; but he trusted God, who never said,
"Seek ye my face," in vain.
FIFTH READER.
71
DcFrwn'Iowa.^S. Ap^p^t'eiit, dear, pttan, 3, Gen-tee 1, /itsA-
«an^^f, ■efejrttni. Ra-dmJed'T hro-affhi to pifvfrltf. 4:- Vio-liteT to
frrSifijtj to profane, ij. rii-ves-'li''^a.l<^, to mquiTS in^o ii?ith .Dfu-s. iM'^
feet, a toral Jbrrn of^pj^f^ft^ *!■ Ci^»i-fiLint', (q fitc^^ fo $Tart4 ^firc.
T* At-tor'r3ey (fro. atrttLr'nJ)^ a la-Wf/er. I-den'ti-tyj fAf eoaftifion
of being f^e sffme OS W/nc^ftin^^ t^'ii^Se'L Trail S-fftr'riiig, -niff^fM^
XTV. THE SANDS O' DEE,
Charles Kingsley (/»- 1819, ^.1875) was born at Holne,
Devonshire, England. He look his bachelor's degree at Cambridge
in 1842, and soon after entered the Church. His writings are quite
voluminous, including sermons, lectures, novels, fairy tales, and
poems, published in book form, besides numerous miscellaneous
sermons and magazine articles. He was an earnest worker for
bettering the condition of the working classes, and this object was
the basis of most of his writings. As a lyric poet he has gained a
high place. The "Saint's Tragedy" and "Andromeda" are the most
pretentious of his poems, and "Alton Locke" and "Hypatia" are his
best known novels.
DEFINITIONS. -2. Ap-par'ent, clear, plain. 3. Gen-teel",
fashionable, elegani. KQ-<i\iQQfi\ brought to poverty . A. Vi'o-late,
to break, to profane. 5. In-ves'ti-gate, to inquire into with care,
Di'a-lecl, a local form of speech. 6. Con-front', to face, to stand
before. 1 . At-tor'ney {pro. at-tur'ny), a lawyer. I-den'ti-ty, the
condition of being the same as something claimed. Trans-
ferring, making over the possession of. Ex-trem'i-ty, greatest
need. Op-por-tu'ni-ty,/dv^;'fl/»/(? time.
\. "O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home.
And call the cattle home.
Across the sands o' Dee!"
The western wind was wild and dank with foara,
And all alone went she.
2. The creeping tide came up along the sand.
And o'er and o'er the sand.
And round and round the sand,
As far as eye could see;
The blinding mist came down and hid the land--
And never home came she.
72 ECLECTIC SERIES.
3, Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair?—
A tress o' golden hair,
O' drowned maiden's hair.
Above the nets at sea.
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair
Among the stakes on Dee.
4. They rowed her in across the rolling foam.
The cruel, crawling foam.
The cruel, hungry foam.
To her grave beside the sea;
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,
Across the sands O' Dee,
Notes,-- The Sands O ' Dee, The Dee is a river of Scotland,
noted for its salmon fisheries.
O' is a contraction for of, commonly used by the Scotch.
RKMARK.--The first three lines of each stanza deserve special
attention in reading. The final words are nearly or quite the same,
but the expression of each line should vary. The piece should be
read in a low key and with a pure, musical tone.
XV. SELECT PARAGRAPHS,
1, O give thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name; make
known his deeds among the people. Sing unto him; sing psalms
unto him; talk ye of all his wondrous works- Glory ye in his holy
name; let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord. Remember
his marvelous works that he hath done; his wonders, and the
judgments of his mouth,
2. O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!
who hast set thy glory above the heavens. When I consider thy
heavens, the work of thy fingers; the
FIFTH READER. 73
moon and the stars which thou hast ordained; what is man, that
thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visilesl
him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and
hast crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him to have
dominion over the work of thy hands; thou hast put all things
under his feet, O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all
the earth!
3. I will say of the Lord, He is ray refuge and ray fortress, my
God; in him will I trust. Because he hath set his love upon me,
therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath
known my name. He shall call upon me, and 1 will answer him; 1
will be with him in trouble; 1 will deliver him, and honor him.
With long life will 1 satisfy him, and show him my salvation.
4. O come, let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily rejoice in
the strength of our salvation. Lei us come before his presence with
thanksgiving, and show ourselves glad in him with psalms. For the
Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. O worship
the Lord in the beauty of holiness; let the whole earth stand in awe
of hira. For he cometh, for he cometh, to judge the earth; and with
righteousness to judge the world, and the people with his truth.
5. Oh that men would praise the Lord' for his goodness, and for
his wonderful works to the children of men! They that go down to
the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the
works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he
commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the
waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven; they go down again
to the depths; their soul is melted because of trouble; they reel to
and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end.
Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them
out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the
waves thereof are still. Then
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
are lliey glad because ihey be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their
desired haven. Oh that men would praise the Lord for his
goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men!
6. The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makelh me to
lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the
shadow of death. 1 will fear no evil; for thou art with me: thy rod
and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou prepares! a table before me
in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over. Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life; and 1 will dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.
-Bible.
poifited, estabOshed, ikf-ixiin'ion {^rfi. do-miii'jiiii). su^trems fsiasr^
fi. HSi veD, a iarboVj « plac^ wk€r€ j(hips can tiff in. sofei^.
XVI. THE CORN SONG.
I. Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard!
Heap high the golden corn!
No richer gift has Autumn poured
From out her lavish horn!
2. Let other lands, exulting, glean
The apple from the pine.
The orange from its glossy green.
The cluster from the vine;
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Mar'vel-ous, wonderful. 2, Or-dained',
appointed, establisfied. Do-min'ion (pro. do-min'yun).
supreme power. 5. Ha ven, a harbor, a place where ships can
lie in safefy.
FIFTH READER. 75
3, We better love the hardy gift
Our rugged vales bestow,
To cheer us, when the storm shall drift
Our harvest fields with snow.
4, Through vales of grass and meads of flowers
Our plows their furrows made,
While on the hills the sun and showers
Of changeful April played.
5, We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain,
Beneath the sun of May,
And frightened from our sprouting grain
The robber crows away.
6, AH through the long, bright days of June,
Its leaves grew green and fair,
And waved in hot midsummer's noon
Its soft and yellow hair-
7, And now, with Autumn's moonlit eves.
Its harvest time has come;
We pluck away the frosted leaves
And bear the treasure home,
8, There, richer than the fabled gift
Apollo showered of old.
Fair hands the broken grain shall sift,
And knead its meal of gold.
9, Let vapid idlers loll in silk.
Around their costly board;
Give us the bowl of samp and milk.
By homespun beauty poured!
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. Where'er the wide old kitchen hearth
Sends up its smoky curls.
Who will not thank the kindly earth
And bless our farmer girls!
11. Then shame on all the proud and vain.
Whose folly laughs to scorn
The blessing of our hardy grain.
Our wealth of golden corn!
12. Let earth withhold her goodly root;
Let mildew blight the rye,
Give to the worm the orchard's fruit,
The wheal field to the fly:
13. But let the good old crop adorn
The hills our fathers trod;
Still let us, for his golden corn,
Send up our thanks to God!
From Whittier's "Songs of Labor."
DEriMniOWS^ — 1. llijliFd^ a largs t^uaiitU^ srf an^fhljig inld tzp,
S&nipn iyriiii^ed corn cocked hp bm'iiTiff.
Notes. --8. According to the ancient fable, Apollo . the god of
music, sowed the isle of Delos, his birthplace, with golden
flowers, by the music of his lyre.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Hoard, a large quantify of anything
laid up, L^v'ish. profuse. 4. Meads, meadows. 9. Vap'id,
spiritless, dull. Samp, bruised corn cooked by boiling.
FIFTH READER. 77
XVII. THE VENOMOUS WORM,
John Russell (b. 1793, d. 1863) graduated al Middlebury
College, Vl., in 1818. He was at one lime editor of the
"Backwoodsman," published at Grafton, IIL, and later of the
"Louisville Advocate." He was the author of many tales of
western adventure and of numerous essays, sketches, etc. His
language is clear, chaste, and classical; his style concise, vigorous,
and sometimes highly ornate.
1 , Who has not heard of the rattlesnake or copperhead? An
unexpected sight of either of these reptiles will make even the
lords of creation recoil; but there is a species of worm, found in
various parts of this country, which conveys a poison of a nature
so deadly that, compared with it, even the venom of the
rattlesnake is harmless. To guard our readers against this foe of
human kind is the object of this lesson,
2, This worm varies much in size. It is frequently an inch in
diameter, but, as it is rarely seen except when coiled, its length can
hardly be conjectured. It is of a dull lead color, and generally lives
near a spring or small stream of water, and bites the unfortunate
people who are in the habit of going there to drink. The brute
creation it never molests. They avoid it with the same instinct that
leaches the animals of India to shun the deadly cobra.
3, Several of these reptiles have long infested our settlements,
to the misery and destruction of many of our fellow citizens. I
have, therefore, had frequent opportunities of being the
melancholy spectator of the effects produced by the subtile poison
which this worm infuses.
4, The symptoms of its bite are terrible. The eyes of the patient
become red and fiery, his tongue swells to an immoderate size,
and obstructs his utterance; and delirium of the most horrid
character quickly follows. Sometimes, in his madness, he attempts
the destruction of his nearest friends.
5, If the sufferer has a family, his weeping wife and helpless
infants are not unfrequently the objects of his
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
frantic fury. In a word, he exhibits, to the life, all the detestable
passions that rankle in the bosom of a savage; and such is the spell
in which his senses are locked, that no sooner has the unhappy
patient recovered from the paroxysm of insanity occasioned by the
bite, than he seeks out the destroyer for the sole purpose of being
bitten again.
6. I have seen a good old father, his locks as white as snow, his
step slow and trembling, beg in vain of his only son to quit the
lurking place of the worm. My heart bled when he turned away;
for 1 knew the fond hope that his son would be the "staff of his
declining years," had supported him through many a sorrow.
7. Youths of America, would you know the name of this
reptile? It is called the WORM OF THE STILL.
DErTh'lTIOJrs. — 1- RSp'tlleg, animals iha^ crai^. os ^not^Sj ffs*
ard&j eie. Re-eoil't io Stftri fjjici, fc fftj-EVipt from. 1?. Co'bi-a, hi
Jkt^ify i^ntwitoEis r€p:ii^ inhabitmg the East /ii^fit?^. In-Eest^ed^
troubled, atirtof^- 3v SfiVtile, acttte, pi^rcinff. ln-uVag^ t*ii??"U^
fiuji^s, 4- Ob^StrQets', A^Wtrs. De-ltri -urn, a wau^Ieri^.i; rv/ IHa
7., Wftrpjjj a spiral mgiallic /rips used in fflsii£li/ig iiqjtora. SLlli, a
VASAat used iti JistiUm^ or making ii^jiwrji
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Rep'tiles. animals that crawl, as snakes, liz-
ards, etc. Re-coir, to start back, to shrink from. 2. Co'bra, a highly
venomous reptile inhahitiitg the East Indies. In-fesl'ed. troubled,
annoyed. 3. Sub'tile, acute, piercing. In-fus'es, introduces. 4. Ob-
structs', hinders. De-lir'i-um, a wandering of the mind. 5. Ran'kle, to
rage. Par'ox-ysm, a fit, a convulsion. 1 . Worm, a spiral metallic
pipe used in distilling liquors. Still, a vessel used in distilling or
making liquors.
XVIIL THE FESTAL BOARD.
L Come to the festal board tonight.
For bright-eyed beauty will be there.
Her coral lips in nectar steeped,
And garlanded her hair.
2. Come to the festal board to-night.
For there the joyous laugh of youth
Will ring those silvery peals, which speak
Of bosom pure and stainless truth.
FIFTH READER. 79
3. Come to the festal board to-night.
For friendship, there, with stronger chain.
Devoted hearts already bound
For good or ill, will bind again.
/ wenL
4. Nature and art their stores outpoured;
Joy beamed in every kindling glance;
Love, friendship, youth, and beauty smiled;
What could that evening's bliss enhance?
We parted.
5. And years have flown; but where are now
The guests who round that table met?
Rises their sun as gloriously
As on the banquet's eve it set?
6. How holds the chain which friendship wove?
It broke; and soon the hearts it bound
Were widely sundered; and for peace.
Envy and strife and blood were found.
7. The merriest laugh which then was heard
Has changed its tones to maniac screams.
As half-quenched memory kindles up
Glimmerings of guilt in feverish dreams,
8. And where is she whose diamond eyes
Golconda's purest gems outshone?
Whose roseate lips of Eden breathed?
Say, where is she, the beauteous one?
9. Beneath yon willow's drooping shade.
With eyes now dim, and lips all pale.
She sleeps in peace. Read on her urn,
"A broken heart, " This tells her tale.
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. And where is he, that tower of strength,
Whose fate with hers for life was joined?
How beats his heart, once honor's throne?
How high has soared his daring mind?
1 1. Go to the dungeon's gloom to- night;
His wasted form, his aching head.
And all that now remains of him.
Lies, shuddering, on a felon's bed.
12. Ask you of all these woes the cause?
The festal board, the enticing bowl.
More often came, and reason fled.
And maddened passions spurned control.
13. Learn wisdom, then. The frequent feast
Avoid; for there, with stealthy tread
Temptation waiks, to lure you on.
Till death, at last, the banquet spread.
14. And shun, oh shun, the enchanted cup!
Though now its draught like joy appears,
Ere long it will be fanned by sighs.
And sadly mixed with blood and tears.
Drijiuitions. — 1. Ifeft'tal, irtirih/n^^ jo^dvi'^. Oar'landHed,
4. Eii-hajnge'', incrcaSie. 6. Siin'dered, sepaToleJ. f. Gllir^jii-er-
iz]g^^ /mnl v't^w^f ^li?tip^es- E, 'Rb'^-'A^:^, hh<mi-n^,rosy. 11. FSVoUj
a pufilic crimmaL 12. £o-ti^'ing, aitrttciiag h evil. Spurnwd,
rsjeci&d ij?ith dlfdatTi. 13-. Lurti, to oflrificf, j!;* &i^ic&, li. Ld^
NOTES. --8, Golconda is an ancient city and fortress of India,
formerly renowned for its diannonds. They were merely cut and
polished there, however, being generally brought from Parteall, a
city farther south.
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Fes'lal, mirthful, joyous. Gar'land-ed,
adorned with wreaths of flowers. 3. De-vol'ed. solemnly set
apart. 4. En-hance', increase. 6. Sun'dered, separated. 7.
Glim'mer-ings,/(7;V7f v/>M'j, glimpses. 8. Ro'se-ate, blooming,
rosy. 11. V^Von, a public criminal. 12. En-lic'ing, (7fr/;7cr//;g
to evil. Spurned, rejected with disdain. 13. Lure, to attract, to
entice. 14. En-chant'ed, affected with enchantment, bewitched.
FIFTH READER. 81
XIX. HOW TO TELL BAD NEWS.
Mr. H. and the Steward,
Mr. H. Ha! Steward, how are you, my old boy? How do things
go on at home?
Steward. Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead.
H. Poor Mag! So he's gone. How came he to die?
5, Overeat himself, sir.
H. Did he? A greedy dog; why, what did he get he liked so
well?
S. Horseflesh, sir; he died of eating horseflesh,
//, How came he to get so much horseflesh?
S. All your father's horses, sir-
H. What! are they dead, too?
S. Ay, sir; they died of overwork,
H. And why were they overworked, pray?
S. To carry water, sir.
H. To carry water! and what were they carrying water for?
5, Sure, sir, to put out the fire.
H. Fire! what fire?
S. O, sir, your father's house is burned to the ground.
H. My father's house burned down! and how came it set on
fire?
S. i think, sir, it must have been the torches.
H. Torches! what torches?
S. At your mother's funeral.
H. My mother dead!
S. Ah, poor lady! she never looked up, after it.
H. After what?
S. The loss of your father.
H. My father gone, too?
5, Yes, poor gentleman! he took to his bed as soon as he heard
of it.
82 ECLECTIC SERIES.
H, Heard of what?
S. The bad news, sir, and please your honor.
H. What! more miseries! more bad news!
S. Yes, sir; your bank has failed, and your credit is lost, and you
are not worth a shilling in the world, I made bold, sir, to wait on
you about it, for I thought you would like to hear the news.
XX. THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM,
Robert Southey (6. 1774, d, 1843) was born in Bristol,
England. He entered Balliol College, Oxford, in 1793. In 1804 he
established himself permanently at Greta Hall, near Keswick,
Cumberland, in the "Lake Country," where he enjoyed the
friendship and society of Wordsworth and Coleridge, other poets
of the "Lake School." He was appointed poet laureate in 1813, and
received a pension of £300 a year from the government in 1835.
Mr. Soulhey was a voluminous writer in both prose and verse. As
a poet, he can not be placed in the first rank, although some of his
minor poems are very happy in thought and expression. Among
his most noted poetical works are "Joan of Arc," "Thalaba the
Destroyer," '^Madoc,'^ "Roderick," and the "Curse of Kehama,"
1. It was a summer evening.
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he, before his cottage door,
Was sitting in the sun;
And by him sported on the green,
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
2. She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round.
Which he beside the rivulet.
In playing there, had found;
He came to ask what he had found.
That was so large, and smooth, and round.
FIFTH READER. 83
3. Old Kaspar took it from the boy.
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And, with a natural sigh,
" T is some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory.
4. "I find them in the garden.
For there's many hereabout;
And often when I go to plow.
The plowshare turns them out;
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory."
5. "Now tell us what 't was all about,"
Young Pelerkin he cries;
While little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
"Now tell us all about the war.
And what they killed each other for."
6. "It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout.
But what they killed each other for,
I could not well make out;
But everybody said," quoth he,
"That 'l was a famous victory:
7. "My father lived at Blenheim then.
Yon little stream, hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So, with his wife and child he fled.
Nor had he where to rest his head.
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8. "With fire and sword, the country round
Was wasted, far and wide;
And many a nursing mother then,
And newborn baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
9. ''They say it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun:
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.
10- "Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won,
And our young prince, Eugene."
"Why, 't was a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.
"Nay, nay, my little girl!" quoth he,
"It was a famous victory.
11. "And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win,"
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.
"Why, thai I can not tell," said he,
"But 't was a glorious victory,"
NOTES, -The Battle of Blenheim, in the "War of the Spanish
Succession," was fought August 13, 1704, near Blenheim, in
Bavaria, between the French and Bavarians, on one Ride, and an
allied army under the great English general, the Duke of
Marlborough, and Eugene, Prince of Savoy, on the other. The
latter won a decisive victory: 10,000 of the defeated army were
killed and wounded, and 13,000 were taken prisoners.
FIFTH READER. 85
XXL "I PITY THEM/'
1. A poor man once undertook to emigrate from Castine, Me.,
lo Illinois, When he was attempting to cross a river in New York,
his horse broke through the rotten timbers of the bridge, and was
drowned. He had but this one anima! to convey all his properly
and his family to his new home.
2. His wife and children were almost miraculously saved from
sharing the fate of the horse; but the loss of this poor animal was
enough. By its aid the family, it may be said, had lived and
moved; now they were left helpless in a land of strangers, without
the ability to go on or return, without money or a single friend to
whom to appeal. The case was a hard one.
3. There were a great many who "passed by on the other side."
Some even laughed at the predicament in which the man was
placed; but by degrees a group of people began to collect, all of
whom pitied him.
4. Some pitied him a great deal, and some did not pity him very
much, because, they said, he might have known better than to try
to cross an unsafe bridge, and should have made his horse swim
the river. Pity, however, seemed rather to predominate. Some
pitied the man, and some the horse; all pitied the poor, sick mother
and her six helpless children.
5. Among this pitying party was a rough son of the West, who
knew what it was to migrate some hundreds of miles over new
roads to locate a destitute family on a prairie. Seeing the man's
forlorn situation, and looking around on the bystanders, he said,
"All of you seem to pity these poor people very much, but I would
beg leave to ask each of you how much."
6. "There, stranger," continued he, holding up a ten dollar bill,
"there is the amount of my pity; and if others
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
will do as I do, you may soon get another pony. God bless you," It
is needless to state the effect that Ihis active charily produced. In a
short time the happy emigrant arrived at his destination, and he is
now a thriving farmer, and a neighbor to him who was his "friend
in need, and a friend indeed."
DEFrT^TTTOHS. — 1. EiYi'i-grRte^ io re^ftPi^tf /rent nSfte CCUtiIt^ m-
Jlflte io Ofi-Othef Jb-f' the purpfiitfi fyf ra»ifieTi<:€j io mtyrafit. 2- IWS-
rFLe'u-lotSs-ly, as if t?/ jniVacip^ ^sfrta/ferfid^jf- ^'ViVv-iyy po'i^^?'^ ca-
p{ibib}y. 3. Pre-dteVrJient, ci?rvfiiion, plight i. Fre-d6m'i-ii&te,
tt? firenGil, £o rule. 5. Lc>'cale, irt pfac*. DSs'ti-taie, tu:^^!/, poor.
6. Pes-ti-na^tion, end of 4i jouraet/, ThTiy'ingj prosp^fOf^ thAji^gh
%tkdits^r^, enono^Jff and t/ood maniiffemenL
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Em'i-grate, to remove from one countn' or
stale to another for the purpose of residence, to migrate. 2. Mi-
rac'u-lous-ly, as if by miracle, wonderfully . A-bil'i-ly, power,
capability. 3. Pre-dic'a-ment, condition, plight. 4. Pre-dom'i-nale,
to prevail, to ride. 5. Lo'cate, to place. Des'ti-liite, needy, poor.
6. Des-li-na'tion, end of a journey. Thriv'ing, prosperous through
industry, economy, and good management.
FIFTH READER. 87
XXII. AN ELEGY ON MADAM BLAIZE.
Oliver Goldsmith {b, 1728, d. 1774) was born at Pallas, or
Pallasmore, in the parish of Forney, Ireland, He received his
education at several schools, at Trinity College, Dublin, at
Edinburgh, and at Leyden. He spent some time in wandering over
continental Europe, often in poverty and want. In 1756 he became
a resident of London, where he made the acquaintance of several
celebrated men, among whom were Dr, Johnson and Sir Joshua
Reynolds. His writings are noted for their purity, 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;"
and as a novelist, by "The Vicar of Wakefield." His reckless
extravagance always kept him in financial difficulty, and he died
heavily in debt. His monument is in Westminster Abbey,
1. Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word--
From those who spoke her praise.
2. The needy seldom passed her door.
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor—
Who left a pledge behind.
3. She strove the neighborhood to please.
With manner wondrous winning:
She never followed wicked ways--
Unless when she was sinning.
4. At church, in silks and satin new,
With hoop of monstrous size.
She never slumbered in her pew--
Bul when she shut her eyes.
5. Her love was sought, I do aver.
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has followed her
When she has walked before.
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6. But now, her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all,
Her doctors found, when she was dead--
Her last disorder mortal.
7. Let us lament, in sorrow sore;
For Kent Street well may say.
That, had she lived a twelvemonth more-
She had not died to-day.
fi. FSSA:^ p^rscuai propir^^ d€li}:^&re*l ig flrti>J4tfr an a s^curilif Jm
d dtfif. fl. R^ig'^r^Yi J fi^icw^r^ Mer'tala destrwUm to life*
XXIIL KING CHARLES H AND WILLIAM PENN.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Ac-cord', agreement of opinion, consent 2.
Pledge, persona! property delivered to another as a security for
a debt. 6. Hang'ers-on,/o//oH'^ry. Mor'tal, destructive to life.
King Charles. Well, friend William! I have sold you a noble
province in North America: but still, I suppose you have no
thoughts of going thither yourself?
Penn. Yes, I have, I assure thee, friend Charles; and I am just
come to bid thee farewell.
K.C. What! venture yourself among the savages of North
America! Why, man, what security have you that you will not be
in their war kettle in two hours after setting fool on their shores?
P. The best security in the world.
K.C. I doubt Ihat, friend William; I have no idea of any security
against those cannibals but in a regiment of good soldiers, with
their muskets and bayonets. And mind. I tell you beforehand, that,
with all my good will for you and your family, to whom I am
under obligations, 1 will not send a single soldier with you.
FIFTH READER. 89
P. I want none of ihy soldiers, Charles: I depend on something
belter than thy soldiers.
K,C. Ah! what may that be?
P, Why, I depend upon themselves; on the working of their
own hearts; on their notions of justice; on their moral sense.
K.C. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt; but I fear
you will not find much of it among the Indians of North America.
P. And why not among them as well as others?
K.C. Because if they had possessed any, they would not have
treated my subjects so barbarously as they have done.
P, That is no proof of the contrary, friend Charles. Thy subjects
were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to North
America, they found these poor people the fondest and kindest
creatures in the world. Every day they would watch for them to
come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast them on the best
fish, and venison, and corn, which were all they had. In return for
this hospitality of the savages^ as we call them, thy subjects,
termed Christians^ seized on their country and rich hunting
grounds for farms for themselves. Now, is it to be wondered at,
that these much-injured people should have been driven to
desperation by such injustice; and that, burning with revenge, they
should have committed some excesses?
K C. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when they come
to treat you in the same manner.
P. I am not afraid of it.
K.C. Ah! how will you avoid it? You mean to get their hunting
grounds, too, I suppose?
P. Yes, but not by driving these poor people away from them.
K.C. No, indeed? How then will you get their lands?
P. I mean to buy their lands of them.
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K.C, Buy their lands of them? Why, man, you have already
bought them of me!
P. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too; but I did it only to
get thy good will, not thai I thought thou hadsl any right to their
lands-
K.C. How, man? no right to their lands?
P. No, friend Charles, no right; no right at all: what right hast
thou to their lands?
K.C. Why, the right of discovery, to be sure; the right which the
Pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give one anolher.
P, The right of discovery? A strange kind of right, indeed. Now
suppose, friend Charles, that some canoe load of these Indians,
crossing the sea, and discovering this island of Great Britain, were
to claim it as their own, and set it up for sale over thy head, what
wouldst thou think of it?
K.C. Why— why--why--I must confess, I should think it a piece
of great impudence in them,
P. Well, then, how canst thou, a Christian, and a Christian
prince, loo, do that which thou so utterly condemnest in these
people whom thou callest savages? And suppose, again, that these
Indians, on thy refusal to give up thy island of Great Britain, were
to make war on thee, and, having weapons more destructive than
thine, were to destroy many of thy subjects, and drive the rest
away--wouldsl thou not think it horribly cruel?
K. C. I must say, friend William, that I should; how can I say
otherwise?
P. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian, do what T
should abhor even in the heathen? No. I will not do it. But I will
buy the right of the proper owners, even of the Indians themselves.
By doing this, I shall imitate God himself in his justice and mercy,
and thereby insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live
to plant one in North America.
--Mason L. Weems.
FIFTH READER,
91
Reg'L'nLent, « frijc/^ c^j' frot^ps, coTifisHnff vstujlf^ af ten companii^s.
Aff-gTfcflfi'oi'fj. tktmi^ who Jii'^ ccj^flnwinw hf*J^ff-f^ii?s. Veri'l-g^iu (jJi^J.
T5u'i-Kn, or THn'^TL)^ ihs Jiesh d/ (f^er^ EK-cjfe^'e|, ruisde^ds, eoif
NOTES. -Charles IL was king of England from A.D. 1660 to
1685. William Penn (b. 1644. d. 1718) was a noted Englishman
who belonged to the seel of Friends. He came to America in 1682,
and founded the province which is now the state of Pennsylvania.
He purchased the lands from the Indians, who were so impressed
with the justice and good will of Penn and his associates, that the
Quaker dress often served as a sure protection when other settlers
were trembling for their lives-
DEFINITIONS.-- Can'ni-bals, human beings that eat human
flesh. Reg'i-ment, a body of troops, consisting usually often
companies. Ag-gress'ors, those who first commence hostilities.
Ven'i-son {pro. ven'i-zn, or ven'zn), the flesh of deer. Ex-cess'es,
misdeeds, evil acts. Con-demn'esl (pro. kon-dem'est), censure,
blame.
XXIV. WHAT I LIVE FOR.
I- I live for those who love me.
Whose hearts are kind and true;
For the heaven that smiles above me.
And awaits my spirit, too;
For all human ties that bind me.
For the task my God assigned me.
For the bright hopes left behind me.
And the good that I can do.
2, I live to learn their story.
Who suffered for my sake;
To emulate their glory.
And follow in their wake;
Bards, patriots, martyrs, sages,
The noble of all ages,
Whose deeds crown History's pages.
And Time's great volume make.
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
3. I live lo hail that season.
By gifted minds foretold,
When man shall live by reason.
And not alone by gold;
When man lo man united,
And every wrong thing righted.
The whole world shall be lighted
As Eden was of old.
4. I live for those who love me.
For those who know me true;
For the heaven that smiles above me.
And awaits my spirit, too;
For ihe cause that needs assistance.
For the wrongs that need resistance.
For the future in the distance,
And the good that I can do.
3^to:H-iTioTTfl.--l. An-al^enJi' (pro. B^-Ein^i') ^ aiiotf£d, tnffrked c^al
/e_/l! }\y n ifisf^a^l in the vvUer, hencB^ ^fi^urativ^I^j ij% fhe t-rytin lyf,
}^iu:% fi/'oef. Mii^''tW^ One who SGt-'rifices whiit is of ^re<ii titjhte io
XXV, THE RIGHTEOUS NEVER FORSAKEN.
I. It was Saturday night, and the widow of Ihe Pine Cottage sat
by her blazing fagots, with her five tattered children at her side,
endeavoring by listening to the arllessness of their prattle to
dissipate the heavy gloom that pressed upon her mind. For a year,
her own feeble hand had provided for her helpless family, for she
had no supporter: she thought of no friend in all the wide,
unfriendly world around.
DEFINITIONS. -1. As-signed^ {pro. as-sind"), allotted, marked
out. 2. Em'-u-late, to strive to equal or excel, to rival. Wake, the
track left by a vessel in the water, hence, figuratively, in the train
ofi Bard, a poet. Mar'tyr, one who sacrifices what is of great
value to him for the sake of principle . Sage, a wise man. 3. Hail,
to salute.
FIFTH READER. 93
2. But that mysterious Providence, the wisdom of whose ways
is above human comprehension, had visited her with wasting
sickness, and her little means had become exhausted. It was now,
loo, midwinter, and the snow lay heavy and deep through all the
surrounding forests, while storms still seemed gathering in the
heavens, and the driving wind roared amid the neighboring pines,
and rocked her puny mansion.
3. The last herring smoked upon the coals before her; it was the
only article of food she possessed, and no wonder her forlorn,
desolate state brought up in her lone bosom all the anxieties of a
mother when she looked upon her children: and no wonder,
forlorn as she was, if she suffered the heart swellings of despair to
rise, even though she knew that He, whose promise is to the
widow and to the orphan, can not forget his word.
4. Providence had many years before taken from her her eldest
son, who went from his forest home to try his fortune on the high
seas, since which she had heard no tidings of him; and in her latter
time had, by the hand of death, deprived her of the companion and
staff of her earthly pilgrimage, in the person of her husband. Yet
to this hour she had upborne; she had not only been able to
provide for her little flock, but had never lost an opportunity of
ministering to the wants of the miserable and destitute.
5. The indolent may well bear with poverty while the ability to
gain sustenance remains. The individual who has but his own
wants to supply may suffer with fortitude the winter of want; his
affections are not wounded, his heart is not wrung. The most
desolate in populous cities may hope, for charity has not quite
closed her hand and heart, and shut her eyes on misery.
6. But the industrious mother of helpless and depending
children, far from the reach of human charity, has none of these to
console her. And such a one was the widow of
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the Pine Cottage; but as she bent over the fire, and took up the last
scanty remnant of food to spread before her children, her spirits
seemed to brighten up, as by some sudden and mysterious
impulse, and Cowper's beautiful lines came uncalled across her
mind:
"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense.
But trust him for his grace;
Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face."
7. The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, when a
gentle rap at the door, and the loud barking of a dog, attracted the
attention of the family. The children flew to open it, and a weary
traveler, in tattered garments and in apparently indifferent health;
entered, and begged a lodging and a mouthful of food. Said he: "It
is now twenty-four hour's since I tasted bread." The widow's heart
bled anew, as under a fresh complication of distresses; for her
sympathies lingered not around her fireside. She hesitated not
even now; rest, and a share of all she had, she proffered to the
stranger. "'We shall not be forsaken," said she, "or suffer deeper
for an act of charity."
8. The traveler drew near the board, but when he saw the scanty
fare, he raised his eyes toward heaven with astonishment: "And is
this all your store?" said he; "and a share of this do you offer to
one you know not? then never saw I charily before! But, madam,"
said he, continuing, "do you not wrong your children by giving a
part of your last mouthful to a stranger?"
9. "Ah," said the poor widow--and the tear-drops gushed into
her eyes as she said it— "I have a boy, a darling son, somewhere on
the face of the wide world, unless Heaven has taken him away,
and I only act toward you as I would that others should act toward
him. God, who sent manna from heaven, can provide for us as he
did for Israel; and how should I this night offend him, if my son
should be a wanderer, destitute as you, and he should have
provided
FIFTH EEADER.
95
for him a home, even poor as this, were 1 lo turn you unrelieved
away!"
10, The widow ended, and the stranger, springing from his seat,
clasped her in his arms. "God indeed has provided your son a
home, and has given him wealth to reward the goodness of his
benefactress: my mother! oh, my mother!" It was her long lost
son, returned lo her bosom from the Indies. He had chosen that
disguise that he might the more completely surprise his family;
and never was surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup
of joy,
IhCFiNmoNfl. — 1. FSIg'tfta, hun^lea of sft>t^ med /or /urf.
Prati'tJe, iiyhyig tslt. ds"si-pate» to scatt<^'^ 2. fuyiy, smtiii cinrf
wcakr 4, PErj^im-age, fi J&iij'nei^' 5. Sua te-aan<^, (fiaf which
tiippor^s Ufe. For'ti'tudBj refK^itia ^tidarance. 7. In-dlf'isr-eiu,
TieUher v^y^ ffood -nor v&r^ bftd. Com-pli-Ga'tioHj &\taii^Jim^it.
Bjnj'pa-thi^!^ compassion. ProCfared. ojff^t^ti lo ^ii€. 9t Mlia'iXa,
XXVL ABOU BEN ADHEM.
James Henry Leigh Hunt (b. 1784, d. 1859) was Ihe son of a
West Indian, who married an American lady, and practiced law in
Philadelphia until the Revolution; being a Tory, he then returned
to England, where Leigh Hunt was born. The latter wrote many
verses while yet a boy, and in 1801 his father published a
collection of them, entitled "Juvenilia." For many years he was
connected with various newspapers, and, while editor of the
"Examiner," was imprisoned for two years for writing
disrespectfully of the prince regent. While in prison he was visited
frequently by the poets Byron, Moore, Lamb. Shelley, and Keats:
and there wrote "The Feast of the Poets," "The Descent of Liberty,
a Mask," and "The Story of Rimini," which immediately gave him
a reputation as a poet. His writings include various translations,
dramas, novels, collections of essays, and poems.
1. ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace.
And saw within the moonlight in his room.
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom.
An angel writing in a book of gold.
DEFINITIONS. -1. Fag'ols. bundles of sticks used for fitei
Prat'tle, trifling talk. Dis'si-pate. to scatter. 2. Pu'ny, small and
weak. A. Pil'grim-age, a journey . 5. Sus'le-nance, that which
supports life. For'li-tude. resolute endurance. 7. In-differ-ent,
neither very good nor very bad. Com-pli-ca'tion, entanglement.
Sym'pa-thies, compassion. Proffered, offered to give. 9. Man'na,
food miraculously provided by God for the Israelites.
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2. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold;
And lo the presence in the room he said,
"What wrilesl thou?" The vision raised its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord.
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
3. "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low.
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men."
4- The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again, with a great wakening light.
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed;
And, lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
NOTE. --The above selection is written in imitation of an
oriental fable.
XXVIL LUCY FORESTER.
John W^ilson(/?. 1785, d. 1854), belter known as "Christopher
North," was a celebrated author, poet, and critic, born at Paisley,
Scotland, and educated a! the University of Glasgow and at
Oxford. In 1808 he moved to Westmoreland, England, where he
formed one of the "Lake School" of poets. While at Oxford he
gained a prize for a poem on "Painting, Poetry, and Architecture."
In 1820 he became Professor of Moral Philosophy in the
University of Edinburgh, which position he retained until 1851.
He gained his greatest reputation as the chief author of "Noctes
Ambrosianae," essays contributed to Blackwood's Magazine
between 1822 and 1825, Among his poems may be mentioned
"The Isle of Palms" and the "City of the Plague," This selection is
adapted from "The Foresters," a tale of Scottish life.
I. Lucy was only six years old, but bold as a fairy; she had
gone by herself a thousand times about the braes, and often upon
errands lo houses two or three miles distant. What had her parents
lo fear? The footpaths were all firm, and led to no places of
danger, nor are infants themselves incautious when alone in then
pastimes, Lucy went
FIFTH READER. 97
singing into the low woods, and singing she reappeared on the
open hillside. With her small white hand on the rail, she glided
along the wooden bridge, or tripped from stone to stone across the
shallow streamlet.
2. The creature would be away for hours, and no fear be fell on
her account by anyone at home; whether she had gone, with her
basket on her arm, to borrow some articles of household use from
a neighbor, or, merely for her own solitary delight, had wandered
off to the braes to play among the flowers, coming back laden
with wreaths and garlands.
3. The happy child had been invited to pass a whole day, from
morning to night, at Ladyside (a farmhouse about two miles off)
with her playmates the Maynes; and she left home about an hour
after sunrise.
4. During her absence, the house was silent but happy, and, the
evening being now far advanced, Lucy was expected home every
minute, and Michael, Agnes, and Isabel, her father, mother, and
aunt, went to meet her on the way. They walked on and on,
wondering a little, but in no degree alarmed till they reached
Ladyside, and heard the cheerful din of the children within, still
rioting at the close of the holiday. Jacob Mayne came to the door,
but, on their kindly asking why Lucy had not been sent home
before daylight was over, he looked painfully surprised, and said
that she had not been at Ladyside-
5. Within two hours, a hundred persons were traversing the
hills in all directions, even at a distance which it seemed most
unlikely that poor Lucy could have reached- The shepherds and
their dogs, all the night through, searched every nook, every stony
and rocky place, every piece of taller heather, every crevice that
could conceal anything alive or dead: but no Lucy was there.
6. Her mother, who for a while seemed inspired with
supernatural strength, had joined in the search, and with a quaking
heart looked into every brake, or stopped and
98 ECLECTIC SERIES.
listened to every shout and halloo reverberating among the hills,
intent to seize upon some tone of recognition or discovery. But the
moon sank; and then the stars, whose increased brightness had for
a short time supplied her place, all faded away; and then came the
gray dawn of the morning, and then the clear brightness of the
day,— and still Michael and Agnes were childless.
7. "She has sunk into some mossy or miry place," said Michael,
to a man near him, into whose face he could not look, "a cruel,
cruel death to one like her! The earth on which my child walked
has closed over her, and we shall never see her more!"
8. At last, a man who had left the search, and gone in a
direction toward the highroad, came running with something in his
arms toward the place where Michael and others were standing
beside Agnes, who lay, apparently exhausted almost to dying, on
the sward. He approached hesitatingly; and Michael saw that he
carried Lucy's bonnet, clothes, and plaid.
9. It was impossible not to see some spots of blood upon the
frill that the child had worn around her neck. "Murdered !
murdered!" was the one word whispered or ejaculated all around;
but Agnes heard it not; for, worn out by that long night of hope
and despair, she had fallen asleep, and was, perhaps, seeking her
lost Lucy in her dreams.
10. Isabel took the clothes, and, narrowly inspecting them with
eye and hand, said, with a fervent voice that was heard even in
Michael's despair, "No, Lucy is yet among the living. There are no
marks of violence on the garments of the innocent; no murderer's
hand has been here. These blood spots have been put here to
deceive. Besides, would not the murderer have carried off these
things? For what else would he have murdered her? But, oh!
foolish despair! What speak I of ? For, wicked as the world is--ay!
desperately wicked--there is not, on
FIFTH RFADFR. 99
all the surface of the wide earth, a hand that would murder our
child! Is it not plain as the sun in the heaven, that Lucy has been
stolen by some wretched gypsy beggar?"
1 L The crowd quietly dispersed, and horse and foot began to
scour the country. Some took the highroads, others all the bypaths,
and many the trackless hills. Now that they were in some measure
relieved from the horrible belief that the child was dead, the worst
other calamity seemed nothing, for hope brought her back to their
arms-
12. Agnes had been able to walk home to Bracken-Braes, and
Michael and Isabel sal by her bedside. All her strength was gone,
and she lay at the mercy of the rustJe of a leaf, or a shadow across
the window. Thus hour after hour passed, till it was again twilight.
"I hear footsteps coming up the brae," said Agnes, who had for
some time appeared to be slumbering; and in a few moments the
voice of Jacob Mayne was heard at the outer door-
13. Jacob wore a solemn expression of countenance, and he
seemed, from his looks, to bring no comfort. Michael stood up
between him and his wife, and looked into his heart. Something
there seemed to be in his face that was not miserable. "If he has
heard nothing of my child," thought Michael, "this man must care
little for his own fireside." "Oh, speak, speak," said Agnes; "yet
why need you speak? All this has been but a vain belief, and Lucy
is in heaven/'
14. "Something like a trace of her has been discovered; a
woman, with a child that did not look like a child of hers, was last
night at Clovenford, and left it at the dawning," "Do you hear that,
my beloved Agnes?" said Isabel; "she will have tramped away
with Lucy up into Eltrick or Yarrow; but hundreds of eyes will
have been upon her; for these are quiet but not solitary glens; and
the hunt will be over long before she has crossed down
100 ECLECTIC SERIES.
upon Hawick. I knew that country in my young days. What say
you, Mr. Mayne? There is the light of hope in your face." 'There
is no reason to doubt, ma'am, thai it was Lucy, Everybody is sure
of it. If it was my own Rachel, I should have no fear as to seeing
her this blessed night."
15. Jacob Mayne now look a chair, and sal down, with even a
smile upon his countenance, "I may tel! you now, that Watty
Oliver knows it was your child, for he saw her limping along after
the gypsy at Galla-Brigg; but, having no suspicion, he did not take
a second look at her,— but one look is sufficient, and he swears it
was bonny Lucy Forester."
16- Aunt Isabel, by this time, had bread and cheese and a bottle
of her own elder-flower wine on the table, "You have been a long
and hard journey, wherever you have been, Mr, Mayne; take some
refreshment;" and Michael asked a blessing.
17. Jacob saw that he might now venture to reveal the whole
truth. "No, no, Mrs. Irving, I am over happy to eat or to drink. You
are all prepared for the blessing that awaits you. Your child is not
far off; and I myself, for it is I myself that found her, will bring
her by the hand, and restore her to her parents,"
18. Agnes had raised herself up in her bed at these words, but
she sank gently back on her pillow; aunt Isabel was rooted to her
chair; and Michael, as he rose up, felt as if the ground were
sinking under his feet. There was a dead silence all around the
house for a short space, and then the sound of many voices, which
again by degrees subsided. The eyes of all then looked, and yet
feared to look, toward the door.
19. Jacob Mayne was not so good as his word, for he did not
bring Lucy by the hand to restore her to her parents; but dressed
again in her own bonnet and gown, and her own plaid, in rushed
their own child, by herself, with tears and sobs of joy, and her
father laid her within her mother's bosom.
FIFTH READER.
Dki:'JkiTjO?js. — 1. Brae, .sAWn'n^ ^rtynitdj a de^zl^JiftSy iy^ shp^ o/a
kilt. Faa-'tiTiLe^ w^oj-ft^j^/^y^v i. R^&Hrig, rovuphif^. 5^ lieii^th'ert
4VA *?t,vrj?rdfi^ ^fi.j'Hh 6tfc?riji^ i^ffliiff^?j£ ^ifosafrST ujfivi m (jrtiGfi BrcC^in
^tr making brffoms, etc^ 6- In-splred', amTnaUd^ ^fiUi^,tipd. Su-per-
TiEt'u-fa], THit!"^ than humstu Brak-e, a place oi?^yraji^}i tcifh shrr^its
hiir,:t7t^ rh& tjiiFiti filiisdii/ Jfxt^d. 8u PCJkid (/JS'o. pldd)^ a striped or
checked DPiTi^wmeTtl TCffm hy the ScotcL &. l£-jiio'»J-Jsl>&dj ^x-
Note. --The scene of this story is laid in Scotland, and many of
the words employed, such as brae, brake, heather^ and plaid ^ are
but little used except in that country.
DEFINITIONS.--!. Brae, shelving ground, a declivity or
slope of a hill. Pas'times, sports, plays, 4. Ri'ol-ing. romping.
5. Healh'er, an evergreen shrub bearing beautiful flow ers,
used in Great Britain for making brooms, etc. 6. In-spired',
animated, enlivened. Su-per-nat'u-raL more than human.
Brake, a place overgrown with shrubs and brambles. Re-
ver'ber-at-ing, resounding, echoing. In-lenl', having the mind
closely fixed. 8. Plaid (pro. plad), a striped or decked
overgarment worn by the Scotch. 9. E-jac'u-lal-ed, exclaimed.
1 1. Scour, to pass over swiftly and thoroughly .
XXVIIL THE REAPER AND THE FLOWERS.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (b. 1807, d, 1882), the son of
Hon. Stephen Longfellow, an eminent lawyer, was born in
Portland. Maine. He graduated at Bowdoin College in 1825. After
spending four years in Europe, he was Professor of Modern
Languages and Literature at Bowdoin till 1835. when he was
appointed to the chair of Modern Languages and Belles-lettres in
Harvard University. He resigned his professorship in 1854. after
which time he resided in Cambridge, Mass. Longfellow wrote
many original works both in verse and prose, and made several
translations, the most famous of which is that of the works of
Danle. His poetry is always chaste and elegant, showing traces of
careful scholarship in every line. The numerous and varied
editions of his poems are evidences of their popularity.
\. There is a Reaper whose name is Death,
And, with his sickle keen.
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath.
And the flowers that grow between.
102
ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. "Shall I have naught thai is fair?" saith he;
"Have naught but the bearded grain?
Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me,
1 will give them all back again/'
3. He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes,
He kissed their drooping leaves;
It was for the Lord of Paradise
He bound (hem in his sheaves-
4. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay,"
The Reaper said, and smiled;
"Dear tokens of the earth are they.
Where he was once a child.
5. "They shall all bloom in the fields of light,
Transplanted by my care.
And saints, upon their garments white.
These sacred blossoms wear."
6. And the mother gave in tears and pain
The flowers she most did love;
She knew she should find them all again
In the fields of light above.
7. O, not in cruelty, not in wrath.
The Reaper came that day,
T was an angel visited the green earth,
And took the flowers away.
t&'kn), d SO^i^ftir, thai fccAiffA 15 to rcco/i s^me person, ikint/^ or ^twilfi
DEFINITIONS. -3. ShQuvQs, bundles of grain . 4. To'ken (pro.
to'kn), a souvenir, that which is to recall some person, thing, or
event. 6. Trans-planl'ed, removed and planted in another place.
FIFTH READER. 103
XXIX. THE TOWN PUMP,
Nathaniel Hawlhorne (6.1804, dAS64) was born in Salem,
Mass. He graduated al Bowdoin College in 1825. His earliest
literary productions, written for periodicals, were published in two
volumes--the first in 1837, the second in 1842— under the title of
"Twice-Told Tales," "Mosses from an Old Manse," another series
of tales and sketches, was published in 1845, From 1846 to 1850
he was surveyor of the port of Salem. In 1 852 he was appointed
United Slates consul for Liverpool. After holding this office four
years, he traveled for some time on the continent. His most
popular works are "The Scarlet Letter," a work showing a deep
knowledge of human nature, "The House of the Seven Gables,"
"The Biithedale Romance." and "The Marble Faun," an Italian
romance, which is regarded by many as the best of his works.
Being of a modest and retiring disposition, Mr. Hawthorne
avoided publicity. Most of his works are highly imaginative. As a
prose writer he has no superior among American authors. He died
at Plymouth, N. H., while on a visit to the White Mountains for his
health.
[SCENE. --The corner of two principal streets. The Town Pump
talking through its nose.]
1. Noon, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too,
by those hot sunbeams which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head,
and almost make the water bubble and smoke in the trough under
my nose. Truly, we public characters have a tough time of ill And
among all the town officers, chosen at the yearly meeting, where
is he that sustains, for a single year, the burden of such manifold
duties as are imposed, in perpetuity, upon the Town Pump?
2. The title of town treasurer is rightfully mine, as guardian of
the best treasure the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to
make me their chairman, since I provide bountifully for the
pauper, without expense to him that pays taxes. I am at the head of
the fire department, and one of the physicians of the board of
health. As a keeper or the peace, all water drinkers confess me
equal to the constable. I perform some of the duties of the town
clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they are pasted on my
front.
104 ECLECTIC SERIES.
3. To Speak within bounds, I am chief person of the
municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my
brother officers by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and
impartial discharge of my business, and the constancy with which
I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain;
for all day long I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the
market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor alike; and at night
I hold a lantern over my head, to show where I am, and to keep
people out of the gutters.
4. At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched
populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist
Like a dramseller on the public square, on a muster day, I cry
aloud to all and sundry, in my plainest accents, and at the very
tiptop of my voice. "Here it is, gentlemen! Here is the good liquor!
Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk up, walk up! Here is the
superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale of father Adam! better
than Cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong beer, or wine of any price;
here it is, by the hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to
pay. Walk up, gentlemen, walk up and help yourselves!"
5. It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers.
Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen. Quaff and away again, so
as to keep yourselves in a nice, cool sweat. You, my friend, will
need another cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as
thick there as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have
trudged half a score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have
passed by the taverns, and stopped at the running brooks and well
curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat without and fire within, you would
have been burnt to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all--in
the fashion of a jellyfish.
6. Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my
aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he
drained from no cup of mine. Welcome, most
FIFTH READER.
105
tP^"
^j-r^^
rubicund sir! You and I have been strangers hitherto; nor, to
confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer intimacy,
till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent.
106 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7. Mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses down your
red-hot gullet, and is converted quite into steam in the miniature
Tophet, which you mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and tell me,
on the word of an honest toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or
any other kind of dramshop, spend the price of your children's
food for a swig half so delicious? Now, for the first time these ten
years, you know the flavor of cold water, Good-by; and whenever
you are thirsty, recollect that I keep a constant supply at the old
stand,
8. Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are just let loose from
school, and come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown
the memory of certain taps of the ferule, and other schoolboy
troubles, in a draught from the Town Pump, Take it, pure as the
current of your young life; take it, and may your heart and tongue
never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now.
9. There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your place
to this elderly gentleman, who treads so tenderly over the paving
stones that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! he limps
by without so much as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers
were meant only for people who have no wine cellars.
10- Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope! Go, draw the cork, tip
the decanter; but when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it
will be no affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillalion
of the gout, it is all one to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog, with
his red tongue lolling out, does not scorn my hospitality, but
stands on his hind legs, and laps eagerly out of the trough. See
how lightly he capers away again! Jowler, did your worship ever
have the gout?
1 1 . Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my stream of
eloquence, and spout forth a stream of water to replenish the
trough for this teamster and his two yoke of oxen, who have come
all the way from Staunton, or
FIFTH READER. 107
somewhere along thai way. No part of my business gives me more
pleasure than the watering of cattle- Look! how rapidly they lower
the watermark on the sides of the trough, till their capacious
stomachs are moistened with a gallon or two apiece, and they can
afford time to breathe, with sighs of calm enjoyment! Now they
roll their quiet eyes around the brim of their monstrous drinking
vessel. An ox is your true toper.
12, I hold myself the grand reformer of the age. From my spout,
and such spouts as mine, must flow the stream that shall cleanse
our earth of a vast portion of its crime and anguish, which have
gushed from the fiery fountains of the still. In this mighty
enterprise, the cow shall be my great confederate. Milk and water!
13. Ahem! Dry work this speechifying, especially to all
unpracticed orators, I never conceived till now what toil the
temperance lecturers undergo for my sake- Do, some kind
Christian, pump a stroke or two, just to wet my whistle. Thank
you, sir. But to proceed,
14, The Town Pump and the Cow! Such is the glorious
partnership that shall finally monopolize the whole business of
quenching thirst. Blessed consummation! Then Poverty shall pass
away from the land, finding no hovel so wretched where her
squalid form may shelter itself. Then Disease, for lack of other
victims, shall gnaw his own heart and die. Then Sin, if she do not
die, shall lose half her strength.
15. Then there will be no war of households- The husband and
the wife, drinking deep of peaceful joy, a calm bliss of temperate
affections, shall pass hand in hand through life, and lie down, not
reluctantly, at its protracted close. To them the past will be no
turmoil of mad dreams, nor the future an eternity of such moments
as follow the delirium of a drunkard. Their dead faces shall
express what their spirits were, and are to be, by a lingering smile
of memory and hope.
108
ECLECTIC SERIES.
16. Drink, then, and be refreshed! The water is as pure and cold
as when it slaked the thirst of the red hunter, and flowed beneath
the aged bough, though now this gem of the wilderness is
treasured under these hot stones, where no shadow falls, but from
the brick buildings. But, still is this fountain ihe source of health,
peace, and happiness, and I behold, with certainty and joy, the
approach of the period when the virtues of cold water, too little
valued since our father's days, will be fully appreciated and
recognized by all.
DEFLwmtwts, — 1, PEr-pe-tu'i-ty, tffidTirsif d-WTSfe'iKi. 2. lYo-mlil'-
gl.i>ing, ajifiiou^itm^p 3. Mu-iiil^i-pftl^i-t^a a divi^on of a ayttnir^
ft-dul'tcr-fttredi pnrF.^ unmixed. Co^grne (p^o. Kim'yHk'}, a Frsitfi
troJl^y. S. Fota^tlouS, iJrlfiJdjiffs. Itll'bl-cnnd, indininff Xrs T-nd"
n^ss. 7. To'pimtj ihe {rif^rnui Tc^iijn&. 10* Ttt-itJa'tioD, iickliyi^,
JK R,P:-plcsn'irth, tn- Jill njmn- 14. Mo-iiap'o-lJKft, fo Li&fain fAe
XXX, GOOD NIGHT.
Samuel Griswold Goodrich [b. 1793, d. 1860) was born in
Ridgefield. Conn, Mr. Goodrich is best known as "Peter Parley,"
under which assumed name he commenced the publication of a
series of Juvenile works about 1827. He edited "Parley's
Magazine" from 1841 to 1854. He was appointed United Stales
consul for Paris in 1848, and held that office four years. He was a
voluminous writer, and his works are interesting and popular. His
"Recollections of a Lifetime" was published in 1857, and "Peter
Parley's Own Story" the year after his death.
1, The sun has sunk behind the hills,
The shadows o'er the landscape creep;
A drowsy sound the woodland fills.
As nature folds her arms to sleep:
Good night--good night.
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Per-pe-tu'i-ty, endless duration. 2. Pro-
mul'gat-ing, announcing. 3. Mu-nic-i-pal'i-ly, a division of a
counT/y or of a city. 4. Mus'ter day. parade day. Sun'dry, several.
Un-a-dul'ter-at-ed, pure, unmixed. Co'gnac (pro. Kon'y*ik), a
French brandy. 6. Po-ta'tions. drinkings. Ru'bi-cund, inclining To
redness. 1. To'phet, the infernal regions. 10. Tit-il-la'tion, Tickling.
11- Re-plen'ish, to fill again. 14. Mo-nop'o-lize, To obtain The
whole. Con-sum-ma'tion, compleTion. termination. Squalid, /v/f/n'-
15. Pro-lract'ed, delayed. 16. Slaked, quenched.
FIFTH READER.
2. The chattering jay has ceased his din.
The noisy robin sings no more;
The crow, his mountain haunt within,
Dreams 'mid the forest's surly roar:
Good night--good night.
3. The sunlit cloud floats dim and pale;
The dew is falling soft and still,
The mist hangs trembling o'er the vale.
And silence broods o'er yonder mill:
Good night— good night.
4. The rose, so ruddy in the light.
Bends on its stem all rayless now;
And by its side a lily white,
A sister shadow, seems to bow:
Good night--good night.
5. The bat may wheel on silent wing,
The fox his guilty vigils keep.
The boding owl his dirges sing;
But love and innocence will sleep:
Good night— good night.
109
1 10 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XXXI, AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL.
Louisa Ma> AIcoll (b, 1833, d. 1888) was born at
Germantown, Pa., of New England parentage. Her parents
afterwards returned to New England, and most of her life was
spent in Concord, Mass. During the Civil War she went to
Washington and nursed the wounded and sick until her own health
gave way. As a child she used to write stories for the amusement
of her playmates, and in 1857 published her first book, "Flower
Fables." Her first novel, "Moods," appeared in 1865. "Little
Women," published in 1868, is a picture of her own home life.
"An Old Fashioned Girl," from which this extract is adapted, was
published in 1870, and is one of her most popular books.
1. Polly hoped the "dreadful boy" (Tom) would not be present;
but he was, and stared at her all dinner time in a most trying
manner.
2. Mr. Shaw, a busy-looking gentleman, said, "How do you do,
my dear? Hope you'll enjoy yourself;" and then appeared to forget
her entirely- Mrs, Shaw, a pale, nervous woman, greeted her little
guest kindly, and took care that she wanted for nothing.
3. Madam Shaw, a quiet old lady, with an imposing cap,
exclaimed, on seeing Polly, "Bless my heart! the image of her
molher--a sweet woman— how is she, dear?" and kept peering at
the newcomer over her glasses till, between Madam and Tom,
poor Polly lost her appetite.
4. Her cousin Fanny chatted like a magpie, and little Maud
fidgeted, till Tom proposed to put her under the big dish cover,
which produced such an explosion that the young lady was borne
screaming away by the much-enduring nurse-
5. It was, altogether, an uncomfortable dinner, and Polly was
very glad when it was over. They all went about their own affairs;
and, after doing the honors of the house. Fan was called to the
dressmaker, leaving Polly to amuse herself in the great drawing-
room.
6. Polly was glad to be alone for a few minutes; and, having
examined all the pretty things about her, began to walk up and
down over the soft, flowery carpet, humming
FIFTH READER. Ill
to herself, as the daylight faded, and only the ruddy glow of the
fire filled the room,
7. Presently Madam came slowly in, and sat down in her
armchair, saying, "That's a fine old tune; sing it to me, my dear. I
have n't heard it this many a day."
8. Polly did n't like to sing before strangers, for she had no
leaching but such as her busy mother could give her; but she had
been taught the utmost respect for old people, and, having no
reason for refusing, she directly went to the piano and did as she
was bid.
9. "That's the sort of music it's a pleasure to hear. Sing some
more, dear," said Madam, in her gentle way, when she had done.
10. Pleased with this praise, Polly sang away in a fresh little
voice that went straight to the listener's heart and nestled there.
The sweet old tunes that one is never tired of were all Polly's
store. The more she sung, the better she did it; and when she
wound up with "A Health to King Charlie," the room quite rung
with the stirring music made by the big piano and the little maid.
11. 'That's ajolly tune! Sing it again, please," cried Tom's
voice; and there was Tom's red head bobbing up over the high
back of the chair where he had hidden himself.
12. It gave Polly quite a turn, for she thought no one was
hearing her but the old lady dozing by the fire- "I can't sing any
more; Fm tired," she said, and walked away to Madam in the other
room. The red head vanished like a meteor, for Polly's tone had
been decidedly cool.
13. The old lady put out her hand, and, drawing Polly to her
knee, looked into her face with such kind eyes that Polly forgot
the impressive cap, and smiled at her confidently; for she saw that
her simple music had pleased her listener, and she felt glad to
know it.
14. "You mus'n't mind my staring, dear," said Madam, softly
pinching her rosy cheek, "I haven't seen a little girl for so long, it
does my old eyes good to look at you."
112 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Polly thought that a very odd speech, and could n't help saying,
"Are n't Fan and Maud little girls, too?"
15. "Oh, dear, no! not what I call little girls- Fan has been a
young lady this two years, and Maud is a spoiled baby. Your
mother's a very sensible woman, my child-"
16. "What a queer old lady!" thought Polly; but she said
"Yes'm," respectfully, and looked at the fire. "You don't
understand what I mean, do you?" asked Madam, still holding her
by the chin. "No'm; not quite."
17. "Well, dear, I'll tell you. In my day, children of fourteen and
fifteen did n't dress in the height of the fashion; go to parties as
nearly like those of grown people as it's possible to make them;
lead idle, giddy, unhealthy lives, and get blase' ill twenty. We
were little folks till eighteen or so; worked and studied, dressed
and played, like children; honored our parents; and our days were
much longer in the land than now, it seems to me,"
18- The old lady appeared to forget Polly, at the end of her
speech; for she sat patting the plump little hand that lay in her
own, and looking up at a faded picture of an old gentleman with a
ruffled shirt and a queue. "Was he your father. Madam?"
19. "Yes, my dear; my honored father. I did up his frills to the
day of his death; and the first money I ever earned, was five
dollars which he offered as a prize to whichever of his six girls
would lay the handsomest darn in his silk stockings."
20. "How proud you must have been!" cried Polly, leaning on
the old lady's knee with an interested face.
2 1 . "Yes; and we all learned to make bread, and cook, and wore
little chintz gowns, and were as gay and hearty as kittens. All lived
to be grandmothers; and I'm the last--seventy next birthday, my
dear, and not worn out yet; though daughter Shaw is an invalid at
forty."
22. "That's the way I was brought up, and that's why
FIFTH READER.
113
Fan calls me old-fashioned, I suppose. Tell more about your papa,
please; I like il," said Polly.
23. "Say, 'father.' We never called liim papa; and if one of my
brothers had addressed him as 'governor,' as boys now do, I really
think he'd have him cut off with a shilling."
common in Europe mid JlmericUr 12. Van'iahed, disappEored.
{pro. bler?a'), i Frf.nrh irord meii^umf/ njir/affd., rf.nder^ iiicajniUc
XXXIL MY MOTHER'S HANDS,
I. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're neither while nor small;
And you, I know, would scarcely think
Thai they are fair at all.
I've looked on hands whose form and hue
A sculptor's dream might be;
Yet are those aged, wrinkled hands
More beautiful to me.
DEFINITIONS. --3. Im-pos'ing, having the power of exciting
attention and feeling, impressive. 4. Mag'pie, a noisy,
mischievous bird, common in Europe and America. 12.
yi\.T\!\^\\^^. disappeared. Mc'tQ-or. a shooting star. 13.
ConTi-denl-ly, with trust. 17. Bla-se' [pro. bla-za'), a French
word meaning surfeited, rendered incapable further
enjoyment. 2 1 . In'va-lid, a person who is sickly.
2. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
Though heart were weary and sad,
Those patient hands kept toiling on.
Thai ihe children might be glad.
I always weep, as, looking back
To childhood's distant day,
I think how those hands rested not
When mine were at their play.
3. Such beautiful, beautiful hands!
They're growing feeble now.
For time and pain have left their mark
On hands and heart and brow.
1 14 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Alas! alas! the nearing time.
And the sad, sad day to me.
When 'neath the daisies, out of sight,
These hands will folded be.
4. But oh! beyond this shadow land,
Where all is bright and fair,
1 know full well these dear old hands
Will palms of victory bear;
Where crystal streams through endless years
Flow over golden sands.
And where the old grow young again,
I'll clasp my mother's hands,
XXXIII. THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM.
Jane Taylor (/?, 1783, d. 1824) was born in London. Her
mother was a writer of some note. In connection with her sister
Ann, Jane Taylor wrote several juvenile works of more than
ordinary excellence. Among them were "Hymns for Infant Minds"
and "Original Poems," Besides these, she wrote "Display, a Tale,"
"Essays in Rhyme," and "Contributions of QQ." Her writings are
graceful, and often contain a useful moral.
1. An old dock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's
kitchen, without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early
one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly
stopped. Upon this, the dial plate (if we may credit the fable)
changed countenance with alarm; the hands made a vain effort to
continue their course; the wheels remained motionless with
surprise; the weights hung speechless; and each member felt
disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial
instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation, when
hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested their innocence.
2. But now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum,
who spoke thus: "I confess myself to be the sole cause of the
present stoppage; and I am willing, for the
FIFTH READER. 115
general salisfaclion, lo assign my reasons. The Irulh is, that I am
lired of ticking," Upon hearing this, the old clock became so
enraged that it was upon the very point of striking. "Lazy wire!"
exclaimed the dial plate, holding up its bands.
3. "Very good!" replied the pendulum; "it is vastly easy for you.
Mistress Dial, who have always, as everybody knows, set yourself
up above me, --it is vastly easy for you, 1 say, to accuse other
people of laziness! you who have had nothing to do all your life
but to stare people in the face, and lo amuse yourself with
watching all that goes on in the kitchen. Think, I beseech you,
how you would like lo be shut up for life in this dark closet, and to
wag backward and forward year after year, as I do,"
4. "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window in your
house on purpose for you lo look through?" "For all that," resumed
the pendulum, "it is very dark here; and, although there is a
window, 1 dare not stop even for an instant to look out at it.
Besides, I am really lired of my way of life; and, if you wish. Til
tell you how 1 took this disgust at my employment. I happened,
this morning, to be calculating how many times I should have to
lick in the course of only the next twenty-four hours; perhaps
some one of you above there can give me the exact sum."
5. The minute hand, being quick at figures, presently replied,
"Eighly-six thousand four hundred limes." "Exactly so," replied
ihe pendulum- "Well, 1 appeal to you all, if the very thought of this
was not enough to fatigue anyone; and when I began to multiply
the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it was
no wonder if 1 felt discouraged at the prospect. So, after a great
deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks 1 to myself, I'll stop."
6. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this
harangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied: "Dear Mr.
Pendulum, I am really astonished that such
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a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been seized
by this sudden weariness. It is true, you have done a great deal of
work in your time; so have we all, and are likely to do; which,
although it may fatigue us to think of. the question is. whether it
will fatigue us to do. Would you now do me the favor to give
about half a dozen strokes to illustrate my argument?"
7. The pendulum complied, and licked six times at its usual
pace. "Now." resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to inquire if that
exertion is at all fatiguing or disagreeable to you?" "Not in the
least," replied the pendulum; "it is not of six strokes that I
complain, nor of sixty, but of millions,"
8. "Very good," replied the dial; "but recollect that, although
you may think of a million of strokes in an instant, you are
required to execute but one; and that, however often you may
hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to
swing in." "That consideration staggers me. I confess." said the
pendulum. "Then I hope," resumed the dial plate, "that we shall all
return to our duty immediately; for the maids will be in bed if we
stand idling thus."
9. Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused of light
conduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; when,
as if with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began
to move, the pendulum began to swing, and, to its credit, ticked as
loud as ever; while a red beam of the rising sun. that streamed
through a hole in the kitchen, shining full upon the dial plate, it
brightened up as if nothing had been the matter.
10. When the farmer came down to breakfast that morning,
upon looking at the clock, he declared that his watch had gained
half an hour in the night.
DEFrNiTio^jfiH^li Ii/Bti-tul.-e^i com^nei^^edi^e^an^ tro-f^t^e^y
p&ct^ tni£ieipa££OHt f^o^f ^o whii^k one i&eli^ /bneifrd- 5. Ha-rcing'ia"'
DEFINITIONS. --1. In'sti-tut-ed, commenced, began. Pro-
tested, solemnly declared. 4. CaTcu-lat-ing, reckoning,
computing, 5. Pros'pect, anticipation, that to which one looks
forward, 6. Ha-rangue'
FIFTH READER,
117
(^ffl. hii-rSB|^')p speech. H-lus'^trEtei ifij mak^ cf^ar, io exeinpiif^
(/j/'o. ha-rang'), speech. Il-lus'trate, To make clear, To
exemplify. 1. Ex-er'lion {pro. egz-er'shun), effort, 8. Ex'e-
eule, to compieTe, to finish. Con-sid-er-a'lion, reason.
XXXIV. THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.
William Cullen Bryant (6. 1794. d. 1878) was born in
Cummington. Mass. He entered Williams College at the age of
sixteen, but was honorably dismissed at llie end of two years. At
the age of twenty-one he was admitted to the bar. and practiced his
profession successfully for nine years. In 1826 he removed to New
York, and became connected with the "Evening Post"--a
connection which continued to the time of his death. His residence
for more than thirty of the last years of his life was at Roslyn,
Long Island. He visited Europe several times; and in 1849 he
continued his travels into Egypt and Syria,
In all his poems, Mr. Bryant exhibits a remarkable love for, and
a careful study of, nature. His language, both in prose and verse, is
always chaste, correct, and elegant. "Thanalopsis," perhaps the
best known of all his poems, was written when he was but
nineteen. His excellent translations of the "Iliad" and the
"Odyssey" of Homer and some of his best poems, were written
after he had passed the age of seventy. He retained his powers and
his activity till the close of his life.
1- The melancholy days are come,
The saddest of the year.
Of wailing winds, and naked woods.
And meadows brown and sear.
Heaped in the hollows of Ihe grove
The autumn leaves lie dead;
They rustle to the eddying gust,
And to the rabbit's tread.
The robin and the wren are flown,
And from the shrubs the jay.
And from the wood top calls the crow
Through all the gloomy day.
118 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers.
That lately sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs,
A beauteous sisterhood?
Alas! they all are in their graves;
The gentle race of flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds
With the fair and good of ours.
The rain is falling where they lie;
But the cold November rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth
The lovely ones again.
3. The windflower and the violet.
They perished long ago,
And the brier rose and the orchis died
Amid the summer's glow;
But on the hill, the golden-rod.
And the aster in the wood.
And the yellow sunflower by the brook.
In autumn beauty stood.
Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven.
As falls the plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone
From upland, glade, and glen,
4. And now, when comes the calm, mild day.
As still such days will come.
To call the squirrel and the bee
From out their winter home;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard.
Though all the trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light
The waters of the rill,
The south wind searches for the flowers
Whose fragrance late he bore.
And sighs to find them in the wood
And by the stream no more.
5. And then I think of one, who in
Her youthful beauty died.
FIFTH READER.
119
The fair, meek blossom that grew up
And faded by my side.
In the cold, moisl earth we laid her.
When the forest cast the leaf.
And we wept that one so lovely
Should have a life so brief;
Yet not unmeet it was that one.
Like thai young friend of ours.
So gentle and so beautiful,
Should perish with the flowers.
J^F-FiKiTioKS. — 1* Wail'ingt ia^nentingy mcur^f^ff, SeaiTj rf^
msh^red, A. Gle^a, ait Qpen place in the Jbr&^i- Cili^n, a atjif^Tft a
d<ii&- 4- Un-in^t', imprc^p^'t un^tlin^^
XXXV, THE THUNDERSTORM.
Washington frving{b. 1783, d. 1859). This distinguished
author, whose works have enriched American literature, was bom
in the city of New York. He had an ordinary school education, and
began his literary career at the age of nineteen, by writing for a
paper published by his brother. His first book. "Salmagundi," was
published in 1807. Two years later he published "Knickerbocker's
History of New York." In 1815 he sailed for Europe, and remained
abroad seventeen years, during which time he wrote several of his
works. From 1842 to 1846 he was minister to Spain. The last years
of his life were passed at "Sunnyside," near Tarrytown, N.Y. He
was never married. "The Life of Washington," his last work, was
completed in the same year in which he died. Mr. Irving's works
are characterized by humor, chaste sentiment, and elegance and
correctness of expression. The following selection is from
"Dolph" in "BracehridgeHall."
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Wail'ing. lamenting, mourning.
Sear, dry. withered. 3. Glade, an open place in tlic forest.
Glen, a valley, a dale. 4. Un-meet', Improper, unfitting.
I . In the second day of the voyage, they came to the Highlands.
It was the latter part of a calm, sultry day. that they floated gently
with the tide between these stern mountains. There was that
perfect quiet which prevails over nature in the languor of summer
heat. The turning of a plank, or the accidental falling of an oar, on
deck, was echoed from the mountain side and reverberated along
the shores; and, if by chance the captain gave a shout of
120 ECLECTIC SERIES.
command, there were airy tongues that mocked it from every cliff.
2. Dolph gazed about him, in mute delight and wonder, at these
scenes of nature's magnificence- To the left, the Dunderberg
reared its woody precipices, height over height, forest over forest,
away into the deep summer sky. To the right, strutted forth the
bold promontory of Antony's Nose, with a solitary eagle wheeling
about it; while beyond, mountain succeeded to mountain, until
they seemed to lock their arms together and confine this mighty
rive in their embraces.
3. In the midst of this admiration, Dolph remarked a pile of
bright, snowy clouds peering above the western heights. It was
succeeded by another, and another, each seemingly pushing
onward its predecessor, and towering, with dazzling brilliancy, in
the deep blue atmosphere; and now muttering peals of thunder
were faintly heard rolling behind the mountains- The river,
hitherto still and glassy, reflecting pictures of the sky and land,
now showed a dark ripple at a distance, as the wind came creeping
up it. The fishhawks wheeled and screamed, and sought their nests
on the high, dry trees; the crows flew clamorously to the crevices
of the rocks; and all nature seemed conscious of the approaching
thunder gust.
4. The clouds now rolled in volumes over the mountain tops;
their summits still bright and snowy, but the lower parts of an inky
blackness. The rain began to patter down in broad and scattered
drops; the wind freshened, and curled up the waves; at length, it
seemed as if the bellying clouds were torn open by the mountain
tops, and complete torrents of rain came rattling down. The
lightning leaped from cloud to cloud, and streamed quivering
against the rocks, splitting and rending the stoutest forest trees.
The thunder burst in tremendous explosions; the peals were
echoed from mountain to mountain; they crashed upon
Dunderberg, and then rolled up the long
FIFTH READER.
121
defile of the Highlands, each headland making a new echo, until
old Bull Hill seemed to bellow back the storm.
5. For a time the scudding rack and mist and the sheeted rain
almost hid the landscape from the sight. There was a fearful
gloom, illumined still more fearfully by the streams of lightning
which glittered among the raindrops. Never had Dolph beheld
such an absolute warring of the elements: it seemed as if the storm
was tearing and rending its way through the mountain defile, and
had brought all the artillery of heaven into action.
DKrTsiTro:jrFi. — 1h L^Y^'guor (pro. ISng^g*^0, £i:7i<tu£!if}fi. of
n(?i$e^ 4. BeTlv iM^p si^flififf mM. De-Kls', a ^^n^, narrow jins^,
5. Rack, iMi^t J^^'f''9^ bro^eri clovds, El'G-inent^ a Urm yesuali^
ii^iiKiinff JItB/ vMe^f ^arih^ and air*
NOTES---1. The Highlands are a mountainous region in New
York, bordering the Hudson River above Peekskill.
2. The Dimderberg and Antony's Nose are names of two peaks
of the Highlands.
4. Bidl Hill^ also called Mt, Taurus, is 15 miles farther north.
DEFINITIONS. --1. Lan'guor (/?/o. lang'gwer), exhaustion of
strength, dullness, 3. Re-marked', noticed, observed. Pred-e-ces'-
sor, the one going immediately before. Clam'or-ous-ly, with a loud
noise, 4. BeTly-ing. swelling out De-file', a long, narrow pass. 5.
Rack, thin, flying, broken clouds. El'e-ments, a term usually
including fire, water, earth, and air.
XXXVL APRIL DAY.
Caroline Anne Soulhey {b. 1786, rf.l854), the second wife of
Southey the poet, and better known as Caroline Bowles, was born
near Lymington, Hampshire, England. Her first work. "Ellen
Filzarlhur," a poem, was published in 1820; and for more than
twenty years her writings were published anonymously. In 1839
she was married to Mr. Southey, and survived him over ten years.
Her poetry is graceful in expression, and full of tenderness, though
somewhat melancholy. The following extract first appeared in
1822 in a collection entitled, "The Widow's Tale, and other
Poems."
1. All day the low-hung clouds have dropped
Their garnered fullness down;
All day that soft, gray mist hath wrapped
Hill, valley, grove, and town.
122 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. There has not been a sound lo-day
To break the calm of nature;
Nor motion, I might almost say.
Of life or living creature;
3. Of waving bough, or warbling bird,
Or cattle faintly lowing;
I could have half believed I heard
The leaves and blossoms growing.
4. I stood to hear--! love it well--
The rain's continuous sound;
Small drops, but thick and fast they fell,
Down straight into the ground.
5. For leafy thickness is not yet
Earth's naked breast lo screen.
Though every dripping branch is set
With shoots of lender green,
6. Sure, since I looked, at early morn.
Those honeysuckle buds
Have swelled to double growth; that thorn
Hath put forth larger studs.
7. Thai lilac's cleaving cones have burst.
The milk-while flowers revealing;
Even now upon my senses first
Methinks their sweets are stealing,
8. The very earth, the steamy air,
Is all with fragrance rife!
And grace and beauty everywhere
Are flushing into life.
FIFTH READER.
123
9. Down, down they come, those fruitful stores.
Those earth-rejoicing drops!
A momentary deluge pours.
Then thins, decreases, stops.
10. And ere the dimples on the stream
Have circled out of sight,
Lo! from the west a parting gleam
Breaks forth of amber light.
:|j * ijr :|: * :\: :|:
11. But yet be hold-- abrupt and loud.
Comes down the glittering rain;
The farewell of a passing cloud,
The fringes of its train.
DEFiHiTiorcf*, — 1h Gar'nered, laid up, irsfi^w^^. 8. Stii3g,
ijvfbti, Surfs. 7- CleaT^in^j dimdm^, 10- Ditn'plftj small depr^i^
XXXVIL THE TEA ROSE.
1. There it stood, in its little green vase, on a light ebony stand
in the window of the drawing-room. The rich satin curtains, with
their costly fringes, swept down on either side of it, and around it
glittered every rare and fanciful trifle which wealth can offer lo
luxury, and yet that simple rose was the fairest of them all. So
pure it looked, its white leaves just touched with that delicious,
creamy tint peculiar to its kind: its cup so full, so perfect,
DEFINITIONS.-L Gar'nered, laid up. Treasured. 6. Studs,
knobs, buds. 7. Cleav'ing, dividing. 10. Dim'ples, small
depressions. Am'ber, the color of amber, yellow.
124
ECLECTIC SERIES.
its head bending, as if it were sinking and melting away in ils own
richness. --Oh! when did ever man make anything to equal the
living, perfect flower!
2. But the sunlight that streamed through the window
FIFTH READER. 125
revealed something fairer than the rose— a young lady reclining on
an Ottoman, who was thus addressed by her livelier cousin: "I say,
cousin, I have been thinking what you are to do with your pet rose
when you go to New York; as, to our consternation, you are
determined to do. You know it would be a sad pity to leave it with
such a scatter-brain as I am. I love flowers, indeed,— that is, I like a
regular bouquet, cut off and tied up, to carry to a parly; but as to
all this tending and fussing which is needful to keep them
growing, I have no gifts in that line."
3. "Make yourself easy as to that, Kate," said Florence, with a
smile; "I have no intention of calling upon your talent; I have an
asylum in view for my favorite."
4. "Oh, then you know just what I was going to say. Mrs.
Marshall, I presume, has been speaking to you; she was here
yesterday, and I was quite pathetic upon the subject; telling her the
loss your favorite would sustain, and so forth; and she said how
delighted she would be to have it in her greenhouse; it is in such a
fine state now, so full of buds. I told her I knew you would like to
give it to her; you are so fond of Mrs. Marshall, you know."
5. "Now, Kate, I am sorry, but I have otherwise engaged."
"Whom can it be to? you have so few intimates here."
"Oh, it is only one of my odd fancies."
"But do tell me, Florence."
"Well, cousin, you know the little pale girl to whom we give
sewing?"
6. "What! little Mary Stephens? How absurd, Florence! This is
just another of your motherly, old-maidish ways; dressing dolls for
poor children, making bonnets, and knitting socks for all the little
dirty babies in the neighborhood. I do believe you have made
more calls in those two vile, ill-smelling alleys behind our house
than ever you have in Chestnut Street, though you know
126 ECLECTIC SERIES.
everybody is half dying to see you; and now, to crown all, you
must give this choice little bijou to a seamstress girl, when one of
your most intimate friends, in your own class, would value it so
highly. What in the world can people in their circumstances want
with flowers?"
7. "Just the same as I do," replied Florence, calmly, "Have you
not noticed that the little girl never comes without looking
wistfully at the opening buds? And don't you remember, the other
morning she asked me so prettily if I would let her mother come
and see it, she was so fond of flowers?"
8. "But, Florence, only think of this rare flower standing on a
table with ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifled in that close
little room, where Mrs. Stephens and her daughter manage to
wash, iron, and cook,"
9. "Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one coarse room,
and wash, and iron, and cook, as you say; if I had to spend every
moment of my time in toil, with no prospect from my window but
a brick wall and a dirty lane, such a flower as this would be untold
enjoyment to me."
10. "Pshaw, Florence; all sentiment! Poor people have no time
to be sentimentaL Besides, I don't believe it will grow with them;
it is a greenhouse flower, and used to delicate living,"
1 1. "Oh, as to that, a flower never inquires whether its owner is
rich or poor; and poor Mrs. Stephens, whatever else she has not,
has sunshine of as good quality as this that streams through our
window. The beautiful things that God makes are his gifts to all
alike. You will see that my fair rose will be as well and cheerful in
Mrs, Stephens's room as in ours."
12. "Well, after all, how odd! When one gives to poor people,
one wants to give them something useful--a bushel of potatoes, a
ham, and such things."
13. "Why, certainly, potatoes and ham must be supplied;
FIFTH READER. Ill
but, having ministered to the first and most craving wants, why
not add any other little pleasures or gratifications we may have it
in our power to bestow? I know there are many of the poor who
have fine feeling and a keen sense of the beautiful, which rusts out
and dies because they are loo hard pressed to procure it any
gratification. Poor Mrs- Stephens, for example; 1 know she would
enjoy birds, and flowers, and music as much as I do, 1 have seen
her eye light up as she looked upon these things in our drawing-
room, and yet not one beautiful thing can she command. From
necessity, her room, her clothing, --all she has, must be coarse and
plain. You should have seen the almost rapture she and Mary felt
when I offered them mv rose."
■J
14- "Dear me! all this may be true, but ! never thought of it
before. I never thought that these hard-working people had any
ideas of taste!"
15- "Then why do you see the geranium or rose so carefully
nursed in the old cracked teapot in the poorest room, or the
morning-glory planted in a box and twined about the window? Do
not these show that the human heart yearns for the beautiful in all
ranks of life? You remember, Kate, how our washerwoman sat up
a whole night, after a hard day's work, to make her first baby a
pretty dress to be baptized in." "Yes, and I remember how I
laughed at you for making such a tasteful little cap for it."
16. "True, Kate, but I think the look of perfect delight with
which the poor woman regarded her baby in its new dress and cap
was something quite worth creating; I do believe she could not
have felt more grateful if 1 had sent her a barrel of flour."
17. "Well, I never thought before of giving anything to the poor
but what they really needed, and 1 have always been willing to do
that when I could without going far out of my way."
18. "Ah! cousin, if our heavenly Father gave to us after this
mode, we should have only coarse, shapeless piles of
I2S
ECLECTIC SERIES.
provisions lying about the world, instead of all this beautiful
variety of trees, and fruits, and flowers,"
19. "Well, well, cousin, I suppose you are right, but have mercy
on my poor head; it is too small to hold so many new ideas all at
once, so go on your own way;" and the little lady began practicing
a waltzing step before the glass with great satisfaction.
A-sylunSj a -place fifrefa^s ajid pr<sici:f^0Ti. 4. Pa-thefie, mof^iriif to
plf^ Of ^ri^f. 0. Ehjcju' {pro. h^-lhW^ c jet^eL CSi-^eUTIi-aiBll^l,
conditifm m T-f^ard to lefyrldly prcfpert^. Ifl. S^iy-ti-m5nt'al, shcin?inff
flti j^xi^ass of ss^timsnt or fii'liit^^ 13* Cum-niAiLd"', to (^?c«?w, Rap-
ture, extTGiJis Jfi^ <yr plca^rtre^ ecSl<i&ff^ 14. TiiStti the fa^t^ of dh^
cemint^ i^uu^^ Or iL^kaisiner /onus txceiimi:^^ 15. Y€aju^ ion^St is
XXXVIII. THE CATARACT OF LODORE,
I. "How does the water
Come down at Lodore?"
My little boy asked me
Thus once on a time;
And, moreover, he tasked me
To tell him in rhyme.
2. Anon at the word,
There first came one daughter.
And then came another.
To second and third
The request of their brother,
And to hear how the water
Comes down at Lodore,
With its rush and its roar.
As many a time
They had seen it before.
DEFINITIONS.-!. Ot'to-man, a sUtjfed seat without a hack. 3. A-
sy'lum. a place of refuge and protection. 4. Pa-thel'ic. moving to
pity or grief. 6. Bi-jou' [pro. be-zhoo'), a jewel Cir'cum-slanc-es,
condition in regard to worldly property. 10. Sen-li-ment'al, showing
an excess of sentiment or feeling, 13. Com-mand\ to claim. Rap'-
lure, extreme joy or pleasure, ecstasy. 14. Taste, the faculty of
discerning beauty or whatever forms excellence. \5. Yearns, longs,
is eager.
FIFTH READER. 129
3. So I told them in rhyme,
For of rhymes I had store.
And 't was in mv vocation
For their recreation
That so I should sing;
Because I was Laureate
To them and the King-
4. From its sources which well
In the tarn on the fell;
From its fountains
In the mountains,
Its rills and its gills;
Through moss and through brake.
It runs and it creeps
For a while, till it sleeps
In its own little lake.
5. And thence at departing.
Awakening and starting,
It runs through the reeds.
And away it proceeds.
Through meadow and glade,
In sun and in shade.
And through the wood shelter.
Among crags in its flurry,
Helter-skelter,
Hurry-skurry.
6. Here it comes sparkling,
And there it lies darkling;
Now smoking and frothing
Its tumult and wrath in,
Till, in this rapid race
On which it is bent,
It reaches the place
Of its steep descent.
130 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7. The cataract strong
Then plunges along,
Striking and raging
As if a war waging
Its caverns and rocks among;
8. Rising and leaping,
Sinking and creeping,
Swelling and sweeping.
Showering and springing.
Flying and flinging.
Writhing and ringing.
Eddying and whisking.
Spouting and frisking.
Turning and twisting.
Around and around
With endless rebound;
Smiting and fighting,
A sight to delight in;
Confounding, astounding.
Dizzying, and deafening the ear with its sound
9- Collecting, projecting.
Receding and speeding.
And shocking and rocking.
And darting and parting,
And threading and spreading.
And whizzing and hissing.
And dripping and skipping.
And hitting and splitting,
And shining and twining.
And rattling and battling,
And shaking and quaking.
And pouring and roaring.
And waving and raving.
And tossing and crossing.
FIFTH READER,
131
And guggling and struggling.
And heaving and cleaving,
And moaning and groaning.
And glittering and frittering,
And gathering and feathering,
And whitening and brightening.
And quivering and shivering.
And hurrying and skurrying.
And thundering and floundering;
10, Dividing and gliding and sliding,
And falling and brawling and sprawling.
And driving and riving and striving,
And sprinkling and twinkling and wrinkling;
11. And thumping and plumping and bumping and jumping,
And dashing and flashing and splashing and clashing;
And so never ending, but always descending.
Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending.
All at once and all o'er, with a mighty uproar.
And this way the water comes down at Lodore.
—Abridged from Southey.
Fell (provitjcial ^inglish), a Aton^ hill. OXll^ (j-mviiLcial Kiiglieh),
brviik^i. 10". Brawl iiig, roamg- Riv'ing^ .^pliiNtiff.
NOTES.-- 1. Lodore is a cascade on the banks of Lake
Derwentwater, in Cumberland, England, near where Southey
lived.
3, Laureate, The term probably arose from a custom in the
English universities of presenting a laurel wreath to graduates in
rhetoric and versification. In England the poet laureate's office is
filled by appointment of the lord chamberlain. The salary is quite
small, and the office is valued chiefly as one of honor.
This lesson is peculiarly adapted for practice on the difficult
sound ing.
DEFINITIONS. --4. Tarn, a small lake among the mountains. Fell
(provincial English), a stony hilL Gills (provincial English),
brooks. 10. Brawl'ing, roaring. Riv'ing, splitting.
132 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XXXIX, THE BOBOLINK.
1. The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals
the European lark in my estimation, is the bobliticoln, or bobolink
as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice portion of our
year which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the
month of May so often given by the poets. With us it begins about
the middle of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of June.
Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight
the opening beauties of the year; and later than this, begin the
parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer. But in this
genial interval. Nature is in all her freshness and fragrance: "the
rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the
time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is
heard in the land,"
2. The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest
verdure; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the
laurel; the air is perfumed with the sweetbrier and the wild rose;
the meadows are enameled with clover blossoms; while the young
apple, peach, and the plum begin to swell, and the cherry to glow
among the green leaves.
3. This is the chosen season of revelry of the bobolink. He
comes amid the pomp and fragrance of the season; his life seems
all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be
found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows,
and is most in song when the clover is in blossom. He perches on
the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long, flaunting weed, and,
as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of
rich, tinkling notes, crowding one upon another, like the
outpouring melody of the skylark, and possessing the same
rapturous character.
4. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree.
FIFTH READER. 133
begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters
tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his
own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his male; always in full
song, as if he would win her by his melody; and always with the
same appearance of intoxication and delight. Of all the birds of
our groves and meadows, the bobolink was the envy of my
boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and the
sweetest season of the year, when all nature called to the fields,
and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom; but when I,
luckless urchin! was doomed to be mewed up, during the live-long
day, in a schoolroom.
5, It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me as he flew by in
full song, and sought to taunt me with his happier lot. Oh, how I
envied him! No lessons, no task, no school; nothing but holiday,
frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then more versed
in poetry, I might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the
cuckoo:
"Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green.
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song.
No winter in thy year.
"Oh. could 1 fly, Fd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing.
Our annual visit o'er the globe.
Companions of the spring."
6, Further observation and experience have given me a different
idea of this feathered voluptuary, which I will venture to impart
for the benefit of my young readers, who may regard him with the
same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I
have shown him only as 1 saw him at first, in what I may call the
poetical part of his career, when he, in a manner, devoted himself
to elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird of music, and
song, and taste, and sensibility, and refinement. While
134 ECLECTIC SERIES.
this lasted he was sacred from injury; the very schoolboy would
not fling a stone at him, and the merest rustic would pause to listen
to his strain.
7. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover
blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into summer, he
gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits, doffs his poetical
suit of black, assumes a russet, dusty garb, and sinks to the gross
enjoyment of common vulgar birds. His notes no longer vibrate on
the ear; he is stuffing himself with the seeds of the tall weeds on
which he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has
become a bon vivant, a gourmand: with him now there is nothing
like the "joys of the table," In a little while he grows tired of plain,
homely fare, and is off on a gastronomic tour in quest of foreign
luxuries.
8. We next hear of him, with myriads of his kind, banqueting
among the reeds of the Delaware, and grown corpulent with good
feeding. He has changed his name in traveling. Boblincoln no
more, he is the reedbird now, the much-sought-for tidbit of
Pennsylvanian epicures, the rival in unlucky fame of the ortolan!
Wherever he goes, pop! pop! pop! every rusty firelock in the
country is blazing away. He sees his companions falling by
thousands around him. Does he take warning and reform? Alas!
not he. Again he wings his flight. The rice swamps of the south
invite him. He gorges himself among them almost to bursting; he
can scarcely fly for corpulency. He has once more changed his
name, and is now the famous ricebird of the Carolinas. Last stage
of his career: behold him spitted with dozens of his corpulent
companions, and served up, a vaunted dish, on some southern
table.
9. Such is the story of the bobolink; once spiritual, musical,
admired, the joy of the meadows, and the favorite bird of spring;
finally, a gross little sensualist, who expiates his sensuality in the
larder. His story contains a moral
FIFTH READER,
135
worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys; warning them
to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits which raised him
to so high a pitch of popularity during the early pari of his career,
but to eschew all tendency to that gross and dissipated indulgence
which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end.
--From Irving's "Birds of Spring. "
/ace. 3. Stii-ai-blL'i-ty, /cef fj£.y. i, JW^wed, sA«f m;^. 5, Var'Let,
a ffljca!. V^jstd, Jif^m^iar, pruclic^di 6i V&J.iip^t"U-a-ry, &nv trip
rjiai^s his bujidU}^ evJGTfmeni kis chiff df>J«cL 7, Boti ^i-vanl] (French,
pro, bctsj iie-vsiM'), one icho ^vea wefl. (ronr-nftA-nd (Frencli, pro.
gSCr'maN), G ^tutioif^f Gaa-tro-nSTD'^ies nsiotmg to tke flC^tfWOfi of goad
the luxuries &/ Ih^ tai>i^. VSliiiLt'edj boasts. 0< E^'pi^tes, i^anes
DEFINITIONS. --En-am'eled, coated with a smooth, glossy
surface, 3. Sen-si-biri-ty,/ee/mg. 4. Mewed, shut up. 5. Var'let, a
rascai WQTSQd, familiar, practiced. 6, Vo-lup'tu-a-ry, one who
malies his bodily enjoyment his chief object. 7. Bon vi-vanl
{French, pro. bon ve-van'), one who lives well. Gour-mand
{French, pro. goor'man), a ghttton. Gas-tro-nom'ic, relating to the
science of good eating. 8. Cor'pu-lent,//^5/?v, /^^ Ep'i-cur^. one
who indulges in the luxuries of the table. Vaunl'ed, boasted. 9.
Ex'pi-ates, atones for. Lard'er, a pantry. Es-chew', to shun.
NOTES. -5. John Logan (b, 1748, ^.1788). A Scotch writer of
note. His writings include dramas, poetry, history, and essays.
8. The ortolan is a small bird, abundant in southern Europe,
Cyprus, and Japan. It is fattened for the table, and is considered a
great delicacy.
XL. ROBERT OF LINCOLN.
I. Merrily swinging on brier and weed.
Near to the nest of his little dame.
Over the mountain side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
Snug and safe is that nest of ours.
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee/'
136 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2, Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding coat:
White are his shoulders, and while his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
Look what a nice new coat is mine;
Sure, there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee."
3. Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife.
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings.
Passing at home a patient life.
Broods in the grass while her husband sings:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee."
4. Modest and shy as a nun is she.
One weak chirp is her only note;
Braggart and prince of braggarts is he.
Pouring boasts from his little throat:
"Bobolink, Bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
Never was 1 afraid of man.
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee."
5, Six white eggs on a bed of hay.
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
FIFTH READER. 137
Nice good wife thai never goes out.
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee."
6. Soon as the little ones chip the shell.
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood,.
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink,
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee."
7. Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee."
8. Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum crone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:
"Bobolink, bobolink,
Spink, spank, spink.
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee."
--William Cullen Bryan.
138 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XLI. REBELLION IN MASSACHUSETTS STATE PRISON.
1. A more impressive exhibition of moral courage, opposed to
the wildest ferocity under the most appalling circumstances, was
never seen than that which was witnessed by the officers of our
state prison; in the rebellion which occurred some years since.
2. Three convicts had been sentenced, under the rules of the
prison, to be whipped in the yard, and, by some effort of one of
the other prisoners, a door had been opened at midday
communicating with the great dining hall and, through the
warden's lodge, with the street.
3. The dining hall was long, dark, and damp, from its situation
near the surface of the ground; and in this all the prisoners
assembled, with clubs and such other tools as they could seize in
passing through the workshops.
4. Knives, hammers, and chisels, with every variety of such
weapons, were in the hands of the ferocious spirits, who are drawn
away from their encroachments on society, forming a
congregation of strength, vileness, and talent that can hardly be
equaled on earth, even among the famed brigands of Italy.
5. Men of all ages and characters, guilty of every variety of
infamous crime, dressed in the motley and peculiar garb of the
institution, and displaying the wild and demoniac appearance that
always pertains to imprisoned wretches, were gathered together
for the single purpose of preventing the punishment which was to
be inflicted on the morrow upon their comrades.
6. The warden, the surgeon, and some other officers of the
prison were there at the lime, and were alarmed at the
consequences likely to ensue from the conflict necessary to restore
order. They huddled together, and could scarcely be said to
consult, as the stoutest among them lost all presence of mind in
overwhelming fear. The news
FIFTH READER. 139
rapidly spread through the town, and a subordinate officer, of the
most mild and kind disposition, hurried to the scene, and came
calm and collected into the midst of the officers. The most
equable-tempered and the mildest man in the government was in
this hour of peril the firmest,
7. He instantly dispatched a request to Major Wainright,
commander of the marines stationed at the Navy Yard, for
assistance, and declared his purpose to enter into the hall and try
the force of firm demeanor and persuasion upon the enraged
multitude.
8. All his brethren exclaimed against an attempt so full of
hazard, but in vain. They offered him arms, a sword and pistols,
but he refused them, and said that he had no fear, and, in case of
danger, arms would do him no service; and alone, with only a little
rattan, which was his usual walking stick, he advanced into the
hall to hold parley with the selected, congregated, and enraged
villains of the whole commonwealth.
9. He demanded their purpose in thus coming together with
arms, in violation of the prison laws. They replied that they were
determined to obtain the remission of the punishment of their three
comrades. He said it was impossible; the rules of the prison must
be obeyed, and they must submit,
10. At the hint of submission they drew a little nearer together,
prepared their weapons for service, and, as they were dimly seen
in the further end of the hall by those who observed from the
gratings that opened up to the day, a more appalling sight can not
be conceived, nor one of more moral grandeur, than that of the
single man standing within their grasp, and exposed to be torn
limb from limb instantly if a word or look should add to the
already intense excitement,
1 1. That excitement, too, was of a most dangerous kind. It
broke not forth in noise and imprecations, but was seen only in the
dark looks and the strained nerves that showed
140 ECLECTIC SERIES.
a deep delermination. The officer expostulated. He reminded them
of the hopelessness of escape; that the town was alarmed, and that
the government of the prison would submit to nothing but
unconditional surrender. He said that all those who would go
quietly away should be forgiven for this offense; but that if every
prisoner were killed in the contest, power enough would be
obtained to enforce the regulations of the prison.
12. They replied that they expected that some would be killed, --
that death would be belter than such imprisonment; and, with that
look and lone which bespeak an indomitable purpose, they
declared that not a man should leave the hall alive till the flogging
was remitted. At this period of the discussion their evil passions
seemed to be more inflamed, and one or two offered to destroy the
officer, who still stood firmer and with a more temperate pulse
than did his friends, who saw from above, but could not avert, the
danger that threatened him.
13. Just at this moment, and in about fifteen minutes from the
commencement of the tumult, the officer saw the feel of the
marines, on whose presence alone he relied for succor, filing by
the small upper lights. Without any apparent anxiety, he had
repeatedly turned his attention to their approach; and now he knew
that it was his only time to escape, before the conflict became, as
was expected, one of the most dark and dreadful in the world.
14. He stepped slowly backward, still urging them to depart
before the officers were driven to use the last resort of firearms.
When within three or four feet of the door, it was opened, and
closed instantly again as he sprang through, and was thus
unexpectedly restored to his friends.
15. Major Wainrighl was requested to order his men to fire
down upon the convicts through the little windows, first with
powder and then with ball, till they were willing to retreat; but he
look a wiser as well as a bolder course, relying upon the effect
which firm determination would have
FIFTH READER. 141
Upon men so critically situated. He ordered the door to be again
opened, and marched in at the head of twenty or thirty men, who
filed through the passage, and formed at the end of the hall
opposite to the crowd of criminals huddled together at the other.
16. He stated that he was empowered to quell the rebellion, that
he wished to avoid shedding blood, but that he would not quit that
hall alive till every convict had returned to his duly. They seemed
balancing the strength of the two parties, and replied that some of
them were ready to die, and only wailed for an attack to see which
was the more powerful; swearing that they would fight to the last,
unless the punishment was remitted, for they would not submit to
any such punishment in the prison. Major Wainright ordered his
marines to load their pieces, and, that they might not be suspected
of trifling, each man was made to hold up to view the bullet which
he afterward put in his gun.
17- This only caused a growl of determination, and no one
blenched or seemed disposed to shrink from the foremost
exposure. They knew that their number would enable them to bear
down and destroy the handful of marines after the first discharge,
and before their pieces could be reloaded. Again they were
ordered to retire; but they answered with more ferocity than ever.
The marines were ordered to take their aim so as to be sure and
kill as many as possible. Their guns were presented, but not a
prisoner stirred, except to grasp more firmly his weapon.
18, Still desirous to avoid such a tremendous slaughter as must
have followed the discharge of a single gun. Major Wainright
advanced a step or two, and spoke even more firmly than before,
urging them to depart. Again, and while looking directly into the
muzzles of the guns which they had seen loaded with ball, they
declared their intention "to fight it out." This intrepid officer then
took out his watch, and told his men to hold their pieces aimed at
142 ECLECTIC SERIES.
the convicts, but not to fire till they had orders; then, turning to the
prisoners, he said: "You must leave this hall; I give you three
minutes to decide; if at the end of that time a man remains, he
shall be shot dead/'
19- No situation of greater interest than this can be conceived.
At one end of the hall, a fearful multitude of the most desperate
and powerful men in existence, waiting for the assault; at the
other, a little band of disciplined men, waiting with arms
presented, and ready, upon the least motion or sign, to begin the
carnage; and their tall and imposing commander, holding up his
watch to count the lapse of three minutes, given as the reprieve to
the lives of hundreds. No poet or painter can conceive a spectacle
of more dark and terrible sublimity; no human heart can conceive
a situation of more appalling suspense.
20. For two minutes not a person nor a muscle moved; not a
sound was heard in the unwonted stillness of the prison, except the
labored breathings of the infuriated wretches, as they began to
pant between fear and revenge: at the expiration of two minutes,
during which they had faced the ministers of death with
unblenching eyes, two or three of those in the rear, and nearest the
further entrance, went slowly out; a few more followed the
example, dropping out quietly and deliberately: and before half of
the last minute was gone, every man was struck by the panic, and
crowded for an exit, and the hall was cleared, as if by magic.
2 1 . Thus the steady firmness of moral force and the strong
effect of determination, acting deliberately, awed the most savage
men, and suppressed a scene of carnage, which would have
instantly followed the least precipitancy or exertion of physical
force,
--/, r, Buckingham.
"It may be that more lofty courage dwells
In one weak heart which braves all adverse fate
Than does in his whose soul indignant swells.
Warmed by the fight, or cheered through high debate."
FIFTH READER,
143
DKFJ?fniONB» — 3. W?^Td^^n„ a. kne^r^ one wh) i}uaTfU, \. Ea-
flrSaoh'iiiant-y -iiidit-ftf^t iniru&i&n ov. iS* rights sf piA^rs, tirJs'an'ig:
roJtltfrSf those tuito Utfs h^ jduruier. 5, Mot'ley, <;atnjtoii&J oj' nfjrwuif
celsJ".''". Dn-JiicVin-a^Ji dfiEii'U^e* 0- Su.b'or'ilj-iiate, i^i/prtor in poTEsrm
^^ jVfarnneg'j ^Mier^ fi^f ^rve o?i hoanf of s^ij^s. l>B-iufcau"(jr, Ac-
emmi^- 9. T-kp-nkiVaiOTi (jJi^s. ra-miBh'uin), jiflrrf-cwi fl/" frv^TiJjrj^sflion-
11. Im-pre-^'tiong, cw^S^iS-, prajfers for cut/- EX'P0S"'LilJat-e<l> i'SO-
nunfd c«meff(/^. 12. Ll-d6jiL^i-tsfc-l>lej thai ca» ntJi Bs anbtim^ Ot
Amrry<
XLII. FAITHLESS NELLY GRAY.
Thomas Hood {b. 1798, d. 1845) was the son of a London
bookseller. After leaving school he undertook to learn the art of an
engraver, but soon turned his attention to literature. In 1821 he
became sub-editor of the "London Magazine." Hood is best known
as a humorist: but some of his poems are full of the tenderest
pathos; and a gentle, humane spirit pervades even his lighter
productions- He was poor, and during the last years of his life
suffered much from ill health. Some of his most humorous pieces
were written on a sick bed.
1. Ben Battle was a soldier bold.
And used to war's alarms;
But a cannon ball took off his legs,
So he laid down his arms!
2, Now, as they bore him off the field,
Said he, "Let others shoot.
For here I leave my second leg.
And the Forty-second Fool!"
3. The army surgeons made him limbs;
Said he, "They're only pegs:
But there's as wooden members quite.
As represent my legs!"
DEFINITIONS. --2. Warden, a keeper, one who guards, 4. En-
croach'ment, unlawful intrusion on the rights of others.
Brig'ands, robbers, those who live by plunder. 5. Mot'ley.
composed of various colors. De-mo'ni-ac, devil-like. 6. Sub-
or'di-nate, inferior in power. 7. Ma-rines, soldiers that serve on
board of ships. De-mean'or, behavior, deportment. S. Par'ley,
conversation or conference with an enemy. 9. Re-mis'sion (pro.
re-mish'un), /J(7/Y/f?/z of transgression. 11. Im-pre-ca'tions,
curses, prayers for evil. Ex-pos'tu-lat-ed, reasoned earnestly.
12. In-dom'i-la-ble, that can not be subdued or tamed. 17,
Blenched, gave way, shrunk. 18. In-trep'id,/f'(7/7^i5. 19, Re-
prieve', a delay of punishment. 21. Pre-cip'i-lan-cy, headlong
hurrw
144 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. Now Ben, he loved a pretty maid,
Her Name was Nelly Gray;
So he went to pay her his devoirs.
When he'd devoured his pay.
5. But when he called on Nelly Gray,
She made him quite a scoff;
And when she saw his wooden legs.
Began to take them off!
6. "O Nelly Gray! O Nelly Gray!
Is this your love so warm '?
The love that loves a scarlet coat
Should be more uniform!"
7. Said she, "I loved a soldier once.
For he was blithe and brave;
But I will never have a man
With both legs in the grave!
8. "Before you had these timber toes.
Your love i did allow,
But then, you know, you stand upon
Another footing now!"
9. "O false and fickle Nelly Gray!
I know why you refuse:
Though I've no feet--some other man
Is standing in my shoes!
10. "I wish I ne'er had seen your face;
But, now, a long farewell!
For you will be my death;--alas!
You will not be my NELL!"
FIFTH READER.
145
I L Now when he went from Nelly Gray,
His heart so heavy got.
And life was such a burden grown.
Il made him take a knot!
12. So round his melancholy neck,
A rope he did entwine,
And for the second time in life.
Enlisted in the Line!
13. One end he tied around a beam,
And then removed his pegs.
And, as his legs were off, of course
He soon was off his legs.
14. And there he hung till he was dead
As any nail in town:
For, (hough distress had cut him up.
It could not cut him down!
aonsi^enij (houti) mili/flry dress^ T- BH^k, ms^^, gay.
NOTES. --2. Forty-second Foot. Infantry in the army is spoken
of as "the foot," and the "Forty-second Foot" means the Forty-
second Regiraenl of Infantry.
3. Members. Persons elected to Parliament in Great Britain are
called "Members," and are said to represent those who elect them.
12. The Line is another name for the regular infantry.
DEFINITIONS. -4. De-voirs^ (French, /^/o, de-vwor'),
respects: compliments. 5. Scoff, an object of ridicule. 6,
U'ni-form (adj.), consistent., (noun) military dress, 7.
Blithe, merry, gay.
146 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XLIIL THE GENEROUS RUSSIAN PEASANT.
1. Let Vergil sing the praises of Augustus, genius celebrate
merit, and flattery extol the talents of the great. "The short and
simple annals of the poor" engross my pen; and while I record the
history of Flor Silin's virtues, though 1 speak of a poor peasant, I
shall describe a noble man. I ask no eloquence to assist me in the
task; modest worth rejects the aid of ornament to set it off.
2. It is impossible, even at this distant period, to reflect without
horror on the miseries of that year known in Lower Volga by the
name of the "Famine Year," I remember the summer, whose
scorching heats had dried up all the fields, and the drought had no
relief but from the tears of the ruined farmer,
3. I remember the cold, comfortless autumn, and the despairing
rustics, crowding round their empty barns, with folded arms and
sorrowful countenances, pondering on their misery, instead of
rejoicing, as usual, at the golden harvest. I remember the winter
which succeeded, and I reflect with agony on the miseries it
brought with it. Whole families left their homes to become
beggars on the highway.
4. At night the canopy of heaven served them as their only
shelter from the piercing winds and bitter frost. To describe these
scenes would be to harm the feelings of my readers; therefore, to
my tale. In those days I lived on an estate not far from Simbirsk;
and, though but a child, I have not forgotten the impression made
on my mind by the general calamity.
5. In a village adjoining lived Flor Silin, a poor, laboring
peasant, --a man remarkable for his assiduity and the skill and
judgment with which he cultivated his lands. He was blessed with
abundant crops; and his means being
FIFTH READER. 141
larger than his wants, his granaries, even at this lime, were full of
corn. The dry year coming on had beggared all the village except
himself. Here was an opportunity to grow rich, Mark how Flor
Silin acted. Having called the poorest of his neighbors about him,
he addressed them in the following manner:
6, "My friends, you want corn for your subsistence. God has
blessed me with abundance. Assist in thrashing out a quantity, and
each of you take what he wants for his family." The peasants were
amazed at this unexampled generosity; for sordid propensities
exist in the village as well as in the populous city,
7, The fame of Flor Silin's benevolence having reached other
villages, the famished inhabitants presented themselves before
him, and begged for corn. This good creature received them as
brothers; and, while his store remained, afforded all relief. At
length, his wife, seeing no end to the generosity of his noble spirit,
reminded him how necessary it would be to think of their own
wants, and hold his lavish hand before it was too late. "It is written
in the Scripture," said he, "Give, and it shall be given unto you.'"
8, The following year Providence listened to the prayers of the
poor, and the harvest was abundant. The peasants who had been
saved from starving by Flor Silin now gathered around him.
9, "Behold," said they, "the corn you lent us. You saved our
wives and children. We should have been famished but for you;
may God reward you; he only can; all we have to give is our corn
and grateful thanks," "I want no corn at present, my good
neighbors," said he; "my harvest has exceeded all my
expectations; for the rest, thank heaven: 1 have been but an humble
instrument."
10, They urged him in vain. "No," said he, "I shall not accept
your corn. If you have superfluities, share them
148
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among your poor neighbors, who, being unable to sow their fields
last autumn, are still in want; let us assist them, my dear friends,
the Almighly will bless us for it/' "Yes." replied the grateful
peasants, "our poor neighbors shall have this corn. They shali
know it is to you that they owe this timely succor, and join to
teach their children the debt of gratitude due to your benevolent
heart," Silin raised his tearful eyes to heaven. An angel might have
envied him his feelings.
--Nikolai Kayamzin.
apeakirtg -sreU. 2, Dr[>ught (.pr^- drout), wani 0/ ram or ier?ffr.
4. 15?rtiLtft\ projterrj in loud. 5. GTiiii'ii-fy, a jJWrpAoM-^s y7jr ^r/rin.
^^ S^b-&lat'?.i^»;^ rrt^fPiis 5/ a^pporE. i'ro-p&iV&Uieg, heftl of mind,
inciin<iti&n. ]0. Su-peTvflii'i-tie^ f^maier qumtdiies rtflft are aojiWrf.
DEFINITIONS. -1. Ex-lol', to elevate by praise. An'nals,
hisfoty of events. En-gross', to oecupy wholly. El'o-quence,
the power of speaking well. 2. Drought {pro, drout), want of
rain or water. 4. Es-tate\ property in land. 5. Gran'a-ry. a
storehouse far grain. 6. Sub-sist'ence, means of support.
¥ro-]icn's\-t\GS, bent of mind, inclination. 10. Su-per-flu'i-
ties, greater quantities than are wanted. Suc'cor, aid, help.
NOTES. --I. Vergil v^zis the greatest of Roman poets- He was
born in the year 70 B.C., and died 19 B.C.
Augustus Caesar was emperor of Rome in the latter portion of
Vergil's life, and received many compliments in the verses of his
friend the poet.
2. Lower Volga is a district in eastern Russia, bordering on the
Caspian Sea, and takes its name from the river Volga.
4. Simbirsk is a town of eastern Russia, on the Volga-
XLIV. FORTY YEARS AGO.
L I've wandered to the village, Tom,
Fve sal beneath the tree.
Upon the schoolhouse playground.
That sheltered you and me;
But none were left to greet me, Tom,
And few were left to know.
Who played with me upon the green.
Just forty years ago.
FIFTH READER.
149
" WARl-Bf
2, The grass was just as green, Tom,
Barefooted boys al play
Were sporting, just as we did then.
With spirits just as gay.
But the master sleeps upon the hill.
Which, coated o'er with snow.
Afforded us a sliding place,
Some forty years ago.
3. The old schoolhouse is altered some;
The benches are replaced
By new ones very like the same
Our jackknives had defaced.
But the same old bricks are in the wall,
The bell swings to and fro;
Its music's just the same, dear Tom,
T was forty years ago.
150 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. The spring thai bubbled 'neath the hill,
Close by the spreading beech.
Is very low; 't was once so high
That we could almost reach;
And kneeling down to take a drink,
Dear Tom, I started so,
To think how very much I've changed
Since forty years ago.
5. Near by that spring, upon an elm,
You know, I cut your name.
Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom;
And you did mine the same.
Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark;
T was dying sure, but slow.
Just as that one whose name you cut
Died forty years ago.
6. My lids have long been dry, Tom,
But tears came in my eyes:
I thought of her I loved so well.
Those early broken ties.
I visited the old churchyard,
And took some flowers to strew
Upon the graves of those we loved
Just forty years ago.
7. Some are in the churchyard laid.
Some sleep beneath the sea;
And none are left of our old class
Excepting you and me.
And when our time shall come, Tom,
And we are called to go,
I hope we'll meet with those we loved
Some forty years ago.
FIFTH READER. 151
XLV. MRS. CAUDLE'S LECTURE.
Douglas Jerrold (b. 1803, d. 1857) was born in London. A
midshipman's appoinlmenl was obtained for him, but he quit the
naval service in a few years. He was then apprenticed to a printer.
By improving his leisure hours he made himself master of several
languages, and formed the habit of expressing his thoughts in
writing An essay on the opera of Der Freischutz was his first
published literary production. Before he was twenty-one years of
age, he wrote "Black-eyed Susan," one of the most popular dramas
of modern times. Several other popular plays followed this. He
was a regular contributor to the London "Punch," from the second
number, and edited, at different times, several papers and
magazines. As a humorist, he occupies the first rank. The most
noted of his works are his plays, and "Mrs Caudle's Curtain
Lectures," "Saint Giles and Saint James," "Bubbles of a Day," and
"Chronicles of Clovernook."
1 . Well, Mr- Caudle, I hope you're in a little better temper than
you were this morning. There, you need n't begin to whistle:
people don't come to bed to whistle. But it's like you; I can't speak
that you don't try to insult me. Once, 1 used to say you were the
best creature living: now, you get quite a fiend. Do let you rest?
No, 1 won't let you rest- It's the only time I have to talk to you, and
you shallhQ^r me. I'm put upon all day long: it's very hard if I
can't speak a word at night; besides, it is n't often 1 open my
mouth, goodness knows!
2. Because once in your lifetime your shirt wanted a button,
vou must almost swear the roof off the house. You did /^'f swear?
Ha, Mr. Caudle! you don't know what you do when you're in a
passion. You were not in a passion, wer'n't you? Well, then, I don't
know what a passion is; and I think 1 ought by this time. I've lived
long enough with you, Mr. Caudle, to know that.
3. It's a pity you hav'n't something worse to complain of than a
button off your shirt. If you'd some wives, you would, I know. I'm
sure I'm never without a needle and thread in my hand; what with
you and the children, I'm made a perfect slave of. And what's my
152 ECLECTIC SERIES.
thanks? Why, if once in your life a button's off your shirt--what do
you cry "oh" at? I say once, Mr. Caudle; or twice, or three times,
at most. I'm sure. Caudle, no man's buttons in the world are better
looked after than yours. I only wish I'd kept the shirts you had
when you were first married! I should like to know where were
vour buttons then?
4. Yes, it is worth talking of! But that's how you always try to
put me down. You fly into a rage, and then if I only try to speak,
you won't hear me. That's how you men always will have all the
talk to yourselves: a poor woman is n't allowed to get a word in. A
nice notion you have of a wife, to suppose she's nothing to think
of but her husband's buttons. A pretty notion, indeed, you have of
marriage. Ha! if poor women only knew what they had to go
through!--what with buttons, and one thing and another,--they'd
never tie themselves up, --no, not to the best man in the world, I'm
sure. What would they do, Mr, Caudle?--Why, do much better
without you, I'm certain.
5. And it's my belief, after all, that the button was n't off the
shirt; it's my belief that you pulled it off that you might have
something to talk about. Oh, you're aggravating enough, when you
like, for anything! All I know is, it's very odd that the button
should be off the shirt; for I'm sure no woman's a greater slave to
her husband's buttons than I am. I only say it's very odd.
6. However, there's one comfort; it can't last long, I'm worn to
death with your temper, and sha'n't trouble you a great while. Ha!
you may laugh! And I dare say you would laugh! I've no doubt of
it! Thai's your love; that's your feeling! I know that I'm sinking
every day, though I say nothing about it. And when I'm gone we
shall see how your second wife will look after your buttons! You'll
find out the difference then.
FIFTH READER. 153
Yes, Caudle, you'll think of me then; for then, I hope, you'll never
have a blessed button to your back.
7. No, I'm not a vindictive woman, Mr. Caudle: nobody ever
called me that but you. What do you say? Nobody ever knew so
much of me? That's nothing at all to do with it. Ha! I would n't
have your aggravating temper, Caudle, for mines of gold. It's a
good thing I'm not as worrying as you are, or a nice house there'd
be between us. I only wish you'd had a wife that would have
talked to you! Then you'd have known the difference. But you
impose upon me because, like a poor fool, I say nothing. I should
be ashamed of myself, Caudle.
8. And a pretty example you set as a father! You'll make your
boys as bad as yourself. Talking as you did all breakfast time
about your buttons! and of a Sunday morning, too! And you call
yourself a Christian! I should like to know what your boys will say
of you when they grow up! And all about a paltry button off one
of your wristbands! A decent man would n't have mentioned it.
Why don't 1 hold my tongue? BQCtiusQ I won't hold my tongue. I'm
to have my peace of mind destroyed— I 'm to be worried into my
grave for a miserable shirt button, and I'm to hold my tongue! Oh!
but that's just like you men!
9. But I know what I'll do for the future. Every button you have
may drop off, and I won't so much as put a thread to 'em. And I
should like to know what you'll do then! Oh, you must get
somebody else to sew 'em, must you? That's a pretty threat for a
husband to hold out to his wife! And to such a wife as I've been,
too: such a slave to your buttons, as I may say. Somebody else to
sew 'em'\ No, Caudle, no; not while I'm alive! When I'm dead--
and, with what I have to bear, there's no knowing how soon that
may be— when I 'm dead, I say--oh! what a brute you must be to
snore so!
10. You're not snoring? Ha! that's what you always
154 ECLECTIC SERIES.
say; but that's nothing to do with it. You must get somebody else
lo sew 'em, must you? Ha! I should n'l wonder- Oh, no! I should
be suq>rised at nothing now! Nothing at all! It's what people have
always told me it would come to; and now the buttons have
opened my eyes! But the whole world shall know of your cruelly,
Mr. Caudle. After the wife I've been to you. Caudle, you've a heart
like a hearthstone, you have!
Definitions. — 5- -^g'^i:^Y^t-mg^^i'ovokin(}Jm fating. 8, Slyk''
XL VI, THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH.
1. Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he.
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
2. His hair is crisp, and black, and long.
His face is like ihe tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat.
He earns whale'er he can.
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
3. Week in. week out, from morn till night.
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge.
With measured beat and slow.
Like a sexton ringing the village bell.
When the evening sun is low.
DEFINITIONS. --5. Ag'gr^-vRi-iwg. provoking, irriraring. 6.
S\i\k."M\g. failing in strength. 1. Vin-dic'tive, revengeful. 8.
Pal'try, mean, contemptible .
FIFTH READER. 155
4. And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge.
And hear the bellows roar.
And calch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor-
s' He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice
Singing in the village choir.
And il makes his heart rejoice.
6. It sounds to him like her mother's voice
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
7. Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin.
Each evening sees its close;
Something attempted, something done.
Has earned a night's repose,
8. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hasl taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought!
--Longfellow.
156 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XL VII. THE RELIEF OF LUCKNOW.
[From a letter to the "London Times," by a lady, the wife of an
officer at Lucknow.]
L On every side death stared us in the face; no human skill
could avert it any longer. We saw the moment approach when we
must bid farewell to earth, yet without feeling that unutterable
horror which must have been experienced by the unhappy victims
at Cawnpore. We were resolved rather to die than to yield, and
were fully persuaded that in twenty-four hours all would be over.
The engineer had said so, and all knew the worst. We women
strove to encourage each other, and to perform the light duties
which had been assigned to us, such as conveying orders to the
batteries, and supplying the men with provisions, especially cups
of coffee, which we prepared day and night.
2, I had gone out to try to make myself useful, in company with
Jessie Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband's regiment.
Poor Jessie had been in a state of restless excitement all through
the siege, and had fallen away visibly within the last few days, A
constant fever consumed her, and her mind wandered
occasionally, especially that day, when the recollections of home
seemed powerfully present to her. At last, overcome with fatigue,
she lay down on the ground, wrapped up in her plaid. 1 sal beside
her, promising to awaken her when, as she said, her "father should
return from the plowing."
3. She fell at length into a profound slumber, motionless and
apparently breathless, her head resting in my lap. 1 myself could
no longer resist the inclination to sleep, in spite of the continual
roar of the cannon. Suddenly I was aroused by a wild, unearthly
scream close to my ear; my companion stood upright beside me,
her arms raised, and her head bent forward in the attitude of
listening.
FIFTH READER. 157
4. A look of intense delight broke over her countenance; she
grasped my hand, drew me toward her, and exclaimed: "Dinna ye
hear it? dinna ye hear it? Ay. I'm no dreaming: it's the slogan o'
the Highlanders! We're saved! we're saved!" Then flinging herself
on her knees, she thanked God with passionate fervor. I felt utterly
bewildered; my English ears heard only the roar of artillery, and 1
thought my poor Jessie was still raving; but she darted to the
batteries, and I heard her cry incessantly to the men, "Courage!
courage! Hark to the slogan--to the Macgregor, the grandest of
them a'! Here's help at last!"
5. To describe the effect of these words upon the soldiers would
be impossible. For a moment they ceased firing, and every soul
listened with intense anxiety. Gradually, however, there arose a
murmur of bitter disappointment, and the wailing of the women,
who had flocked to the spot, burst out anew as the colonel shook
his head. Our dull Lowland ears heard only the battle of the
musketry. A few moments more of this deathlike suspense, of this
agonizing hope, and Jessie, who had again sunk on the ground,
sprang to her feet, and cried in a voice so clear and piercing that it
was heard along the whole line, "Will ye no believe it noo? The
slogan has ceased, indeed, but the Campbells are comin'! D' ye
hear? d' ye hear?"
6. At that moment all seemed indeed to hear the voice of God
in the distance, when the pibroch of the Highlanders brought us
tidings of deliverance; for now there was no longer any doubt of
the fact. That shrill, penetrating, ceaseless sound, which rose
above all other sounds, could come neither from the advance of
the enemy nor from the work of the sappers. No, it was indeed the
blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now shrill and harsh, as threatening
vengeance on the foe, then in softer tones, seeming to promise
succor to their friends in need.
7. Never, surely, was there such a scene as that which
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
followed. Not a heart in the residency of Lucknow but bowed
itself before God. All, by one simultaneous impulse, fell upon
their knees, and nothing was heard but bursting sobs and the
murmured voice of prayer. Then all arose, and there rang out from
a thousand lips a great shout of joy, which resounded far and wide,
and lent new vigor to that blessed pibroch.
8. To our cheer of "God save the Queen," they replied by Ihe
well-known strain that moves every Scot to tears, "Should auld
acquaintance be forgot." After that, nothing else made any
impression on me. I scarcely remenber what followed. Jessie was
presented to the general on his entrance into the fort, and at the
officers' banquet her health was drunk by all present, while the
pipers marched around the table playing once more the familiar air
of "Auld Lang Syne."
I>EFisiTioxs. — L A-vSrtS 10 turn ^de^ Erhgi-Tiecr', art'officer
in (he ai'^^iy, tt^J^o iieuit/rts itnd consirucis dfj£nsiix ami offeimw. inffrlcs.
2< Si^gfi* >^Afl ,5fWm^ d/ fin army aronjid a JhyTiJiBd j^cw:fl if> ormpi^l its
^vrre^Jer. &, Fro-ioiind-'^ dei^p. 4. SlB'^?iti, iAc war cr^ or gaih^r-
inff. G. Fl'brotib, a wU.'i, irr^ff^uiar spccif^s <}/ wiii,W^ bd&nj^in^ Uj ihe
Iliffhianrlii of ^cQili^iiJ ; it }s performed on a hagj^ijunr S-^iy-pnTs-, twcTi
£mplijffi*fi iii matinff ftn frpprofwA it} a yar^iJUfJ pUn:& bif difj^^in^.
fit-raul-tann-orta, ha^piinhig at the same fiww.
N OTES.- -Lite hi 0M\ a city in the British possession of India. In
1857 there was a mutiny of the native troops, and the British
garrison of 1700 men was besieged by 10,000 mutineers. After
twelve weeks' siege, fresh British troops forced an entrance, and
the town was held until relieved three weeks later by the arrival of
Sir Colin Campbell, as above described.
1. Cawnpore, also a city of India, near Lucknow, which was
besieged during the mutiny. After surrendering, the English, two
thirds of whom were women and children, were treacherously
massacred.
DEFINITIONS.- 1. A-vert', to turn aside. En-gi-neer", ^/7
ojficev in the army, who designs and cotistruets defensive and
offensive works. 2. Siege, the setting of an army around a
fortified place to compel its surrender. 3. Pro-found', deep. 4.
Slo'gan. The war cry or gathering word of a Highland clan in
Scotland. Fer'vor, intensity of feeling. 6. Pi'broch, a wild,
irregular species of music belonging to the Highlands of
Scotland; it is performed on a bagpipe. Sap'pers, men
employed in making an approach To a fortified place by
diggiftg- 7. Res'i-den-cy, the official dwelling of a government
officer in India. Si-mul-ta'ne-ous, happening at the same time.
FIFTH READER. 159
4. The inhabilanls of the northern pari of Scotland are called
Highlanders, those of the southern part, Lowlanders. The dialect
of the former is very peculiar, as shown in the language of Jessie
Brown; as, dinna for did not, a' for all^ no for not^noo for now^
auld for old. Macgiegor and Campbell are names of Highland
clans or families.
Whitlier's poem, 'The Pipes at Lucknow," and Robert T, S.
Lowell's "The Relief of Lucknow," are descriptive of this same
incident.
XLVIIL THE SNOWSTORM.
James Thomson (/r. 1700, rf.l748) was born at Ednam, in the
shire of Roxburgh, Scotland. He was educated at the University of
Edinburgh, and afterwards studied for the ministry, but in a short
time changed his plans and devoted himself to literature. His early
poems are quite insignificant, but "The Seasons," from which the
following selection is taken; and the "Castle of Indolence," are
masterpieces of English poetry.
1. Through the hushed air the whitening shower descends.
At first thin wavering; till at last the flakes
Fall broad and wide and fast, dimming the day.
With a continual flow. The cherished fields
Put on their winter robe of purest white,
T is brightness all: save where the new snow melts
Along the mazy current.
2. Low the woods
Bow their hoar head; and ere the languid sun
Faint from the west emits its evening ray,
Earth's universal face, deep-hid and chill,
Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide
The works of man.
3. Drooping, the laborer ox
Stands covered o'er with snow, and then demands
The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven.
Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around
The winnowing store, and claim the little boon
Which Providence assigns them.
160 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. One alone,
The Redbreast, sacred to the household gods.
Wisely regardful of the embroiling sky.
In joyless fields and thorny thickets leaves
His shivering mates, and pays to trusted man
His annual visit.
5. Half-afraid, he first
Against the window beats; then, brisk, alights
On the warm hearth; then, hopping o'er the floor,
Eyes all the smiling family askance,
And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is;
Till, more familiar grown, the table crumbs
Attract his slender feet.
6. The foodless wilds
Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare,
Though timorous of heart, and hard beset
By death in various forms, dark snares and dogs,
And more unpitying men, the garden seeks.
Urged on by fearless want. The bleating kind.
Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth.
With looks of dumb despair; then, sad dispersed.
Dig for the withered herb through heaps of snow
7. Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind.
Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens
With food at will; lodge them below the storm.
And watch them strict; for from the bellowing east.
In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing
Sweeps up the burden of whole wintry plains
In one wide waft, and o'er the hapless flocks.
Hid in the hollow of two neighboring hills.
The billowy tempest 'whelms; til!, upward urged.
The valley to a shining mountain swells.
Tipped with a wreath high-curling in the sky
FIFTH READER,
161
tahilii. E^niLfcaV ae^wfs /(J^'A, thr/ifL^ tmi, &. VVlii^now-iiij-j ^^p^a-^
^ig ch<{if fri^iti ^i^iti A^ sn^o-rt^ o/ jvj^jj/. B03m> a gift' 4i Em.-
t^'ai-s. 6- WLld§> iL-o&dSr/ur&sta. Be-B5t', fief^ifl?eff mi ot* nil ifiiks r^i
NOTE. --4. Household gods. An allusion to the belief of the
ancient Romans in the Pt'/j^f^5— certain gods who were supposed
lo protect the household and all connected with it. The idea here
expressed is, that the Redbreast was secure from harm.
DEFINITIONS. -1. Mazy, winding. 2. Hoar, white or
grayish white. E-mi\s\ sends forth, throws out, 3.
Win'now-ing, separating chaff from grain by means of
wind. Boon, a gift. 4. Em-broil'ing, throwing into
disorder or contention. 5, A-skance', sideways. 6. Wilds,
woods, forests. Be-set', hemmed in on all sides so that
escape is difficult. 7. Dire, dreadful, terrible. Waft, a
current of wind. Whelms', covers completely.
XLIX, BEHIND TIME.
1. A railroad train was rushing along at almost lightning speed.
A curve was just ahead, beyond which was a station where two
trains usually met. The conductor was late. --so late that the period
during which the up train was lo wait had nearly elapsed; but he
hoped yet to pass the curve safely. Suddenly a locomotive dashed
into sight right ahead. In an instant there was a collision. A shriek,
a shock, and fifty souls were in eternity; and all because an
engineer had been behind time.
2. A greal battle was going on. Column after column had been
precipitated for eight hours on the enemy posted along the ridge of
a hill. The summer sun was sinking in the west; ree n force me nts
for the obstinate defenders were already in sight; it was necessary
lo carry the position with one final charge, or everything would be
lost.
3. A powerful corps had been summoned from across the
country, and if it came up in season all would yet be well. The
great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed his reserve into an
attacking column, and ordered them lo charge the enemy. The
whole world knows the result. Grouchy failed to appear, the
imperial guard was beaten
162 ECLECTIC SERIES.
back; and Waterloo was lost. Napoleon died a prisoner at St.
Helena because one of his marshals was behind time.
4. A leading firm in commercial circles had long struggled
against bankruptcy. As it had large sums of money in California, it
expected remittances by a certain day, and if they arrived, its
credit, its honor, and its future prosperity would be preserved. But
week after week elapsed without bringing the gold. At last came
the fatal day on which the firm had bills maturing to large
amounts. The steamer was telegraphed at daybreak; but it was
found, on inquiry, that she brought no funds, and the house failed.
The next arrival brought nearly half a million to the insolvents, but
it was too late; they were ruined because their agent, in remitting,
had been behind time,
5. A condemned man was led, out for execution. He had taken
human life, but under circumstances of the greatest provocation,
and public sympathy was active in his behalf. Thousands had
signed petitions for a reprieve; a favorable answer had been
expected the night before, and though it had not come, even the
sheriff felt confident that it would yet arrive. Thus the morning
passed without the appearance of the messenger.
6. The last moment was up. The prisoner took his place, the cap
was drawn over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless body
swung revolving in the wind. Just at that moment a horseman
came into sight, galloping down hill, his steed covered with foam.
He carried a packet in his right hand, which he waved frantically
to the crowd. He was the express rider with the reprieve; but he
came too late. A comparatively innocent man had died an
ignominious death because a watch had been five minutes too late,
making its bearer arrive behind time.
7. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the most
important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal of nations,
honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed, because
somebody is "behind time." There are men who
FIFTH READER.
163
always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they are
"behind time." There are others who pnt off reformation year after
year, till death seizes them, and they perish unrepentant, because
forever "behind lime."
DKiaNiTioNS, — L Col-li'^ion^r^e ^ot f^f ^tnkin^ tofftAer vi^^mty.
■2. Frc-c^li^i-tat-edj urt^ed tjk vitalc^liF. Il,e-evi-f&S^e'riuetLte, /l^dition^
troops. 3, Corps (pra- !k6r), « tctflr/ cf froops. Re-g@iYe', a asltct
boif^ {^ frrjoii^ MJ hack ifi. cfiAf of i^p^iiii ner^d for Ihsir jerwces.
mc^^, j/^qftSt eiC-t SPiU fujim a /fisrorece. Ma-tlir^ing, appraachmf^ ike
t/ime ^xed^ar poi^eni. Zk Frow-LM:aXitiili th<^i which cavjiet anffer,
fl. Jg-iio-jnln'i-oGSj ii|/a"nmis. 7. W^e.]., prosperilTf^ happinesa,
NOTES. --3. Emmanuel Grouchy was one of Napoleon's
marshals at the battle of Waterloo, fought in 1815 between the
French under Napoleon, and the English, Dutch, and German
troops under Wellington.
Napoleon Bonaparte (b. 1769, d. 1821) was born on the island
of Corsica. At school he was "studious, well-behaved, and
distinguished in mathematical studies." In 1785 he was
commissioned as a sublieutenant in the army. From this obscure
position he raised himself to the head of the army, and in 1804
was elected emperor of the French. He is almost universally
acknowledged lo have been the greatest general the world has
known
L.THE OLD SAMPLER.
1. Out of the way. in a corner
Of our dear old attic room.
Where bunches of herbs from the hillside
Shake ever a faint perfume.
An oaken chest is standing.
With hasp and padlock and key,
Strong as the hands that made it
Oil the other side of the sea.
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Col-li'sion. the act of striking together
violently. 2. Pre-cip'i-lat-ed, urged on violently. Re-en-
force'ments, additional troops. 3. Corps (pro. kor), a body of
troops. Re-serve', a select body of troops held back in case of
special need for their services. 4. Bank'rupt-cy. inability to
pay all debts, m5^/v^;;fv. Re-mil'tanc-es, money, drafts, etc.,
sent from a distance. JVla-lur'ing, approaching the time fixed
for payment. 5. Prov-o-ca'tion, that which causes anger. 6. Ig-
no-min'i-ous, infamous. 1 . Weal, prosperity, happiness.
164 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. When the winter days are dreary,
And we're out of heart with life,
Of its crowding cares aweary.
And sick of its restless strife,
We take a lesson in patience
From the attic corner dim.
Where the chest still holds its treasures,
A warder faithful and grim,
3. Robes of an antique fashion,
Linen and lace and silk.
That time has tinted with saffron.
Though once they were white as milk;
Wonderful baby garments,
'Boidered with loving care
By fingers that felt the pleasure.
As they wrought the ruffles fair;
4. A sword, with the red rust on it,
That flashed in the battle tide.
When from Lexington to Yorktown
Sorely men's souls were tried;
A plumed chapeau and a buckle.
And many a relic fine.
And, an by itself, the sampler,
Framed in with berry and vine.
5. Faded the square of canvas.
And dim is the silken thread.
But I think of while hands dimpled.
And a childish, sunny head;
For here in cross and in lent stitch.
In a wreath of berry and vine.
She worked it a hundred years ago,
"Elizabeth, Aged Nine."
$4
mU^EM% ajSEt) HiuE,'*
FIFTH READER.
165
6. In and out in the sunshine,
The little needle flashed,
And in and out on the rainy day.
When the merry drops down plashed,
As close she sat by her mother.
The little Puritan maid,
And did her piece in the sampler.
While the other children played.
7. You are safe in the beautiful heaven,
"Elizabeth, aged nine;"
But before you went you had troubles
Sharper than any of mine.
Oh. the gold hair turned with sorrow
White as the drifted snow.
166
ECLECTIC SERIES.
And your tears dropped here where I'm standing.
On this very plumed chapeaii.
8, When you put it away, its wearer
Would need it nevermore,
By a sword thrust learning the secrets
God keeps on yonder shore:
And you wore your grief like glory,
You would not yield supine,
Who wrought in your patient childhood,
"Elizabeth, Aged Nine,"
FIFTH READER.
167
9. Out of the way, in a corner.
With hasp and padlock and key,
Stands the oaken chest of my fathers
That came from over the sea;
And the hillside herbs above it
Shake odors fragrant and fine,
And here on its lid is a garland
To "Elizabeth, aged nine."
10. For love is of the immortal.
And patience is sublime,
And trouble a thing of every day.
And touching every lime;
And childhood sweet and sunny.
And womanly trulh and grace,
Ever call light life's darkness
And bless earth's lowliest place.
--Mrs. M. E. Songster.
PlGTiNrrroKi?'' — 2^. W^r^Wi i^^^rp^f", n^fi^rji. 3. An-fi-rgue', rt/Jf
tStndf^ffJ. ^hi^iT^iij fifh^p ^jeUr^if;, d. Cha-paau^j fi Afl£» H, tin-pine',
NOTES. --6. Pitritan. The Puritans were a religious sect who
fled from persecution in England, and afterwards settled the most
of New England.
A sampler is a needlework pattern; a species of fancywork
formerly much in vogue.
DEFINITIONS. -2. Ward'er, a keeper, a guard- 3. An-
tique', old, ancient Saffron, a deep yellow. 4. Cha-peau', a
hat. S. Su-pine', listless. 10. Im-mort'al, undying.
LI. THE GOODNESS OF GOD.
I . Bless the Lord, O my soul! O Lord, my God, thou art very
great; thou art clothed with honor and majesty: who coverest
thyself with light as with a garment; who stretchest out the
heavens like a curtain; who layeth the
168 ECLECTIC SERIES.
beams of his chambers in the waters; who maketh the clouds his
chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the wind; who maketh his
angels spirits, his ministers a flaming fire; who laid the
foundations of the earth, that il should not be removed forever.
2. Thou coveredst il with the deep as with a garment: the waters
stood above the mountains. At thy rebuke ihey fled; at the voice of
thy thunder ihey hasted away. They go up by the mountains; they
go down by the valleys unto the place which thou hast founded for
ihem. Thou hast set a bound which they may not pass over; that
ihey turn not again to cover the earth.
3. He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the
hills. They give drink to every beast of the field; the wild asses
quench their thirst. By them shall the fowls of the heaven have
their habitation, which sing among the branches. He walereth the
hills from his chambers; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of thy
works.
4. He caused the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the
service of man, thai he may bring forth food out of the earth; and
wine that maketh glad the heart of man, and oil to make his face to
shine, and bread which strengtheneth man's heart.
5. The trees of the Lord are full of sap; the cedars of Lebanon,
which he hath planted, where the birds make their nests: as for the
stork, the fir trees are her house. The high hills are a refuge for the
wild goals, and the rocks for the conies.
6. He appointed the moon for seasons; the sun knoweth his
going down. Thou makesl darkness, and it is night, wherein all the
beasts of the forest do creep forth. The young lions roar after their
prey, and seek their meat from God, The sun ariseth, they gather
themselves together, and lay them down in their dens. Man goeth
forth unto his work, and to his labor until the evening.
FIFTH READER
169
7. O Lord, how manifold are ihy works! in wisdom hast thou
made ihem all: the earth is full of thy riches. So is this great and
wide sea. wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and
great beasts. There go the ships: there is that leviathan, whom thou
hast made to play therein. These wait all upon thee, that thou
mayesl give them their meat in due season.
8. That thou givest them Ihey gather; thou openest thine hand,
ihey are filled with good. Thou hidesl thy face, ihey are troubled:
thou takest away their breath, they die, and return to their dust.
Thou sendesl forth thy Spirit, they are created; and thou renewest
the face of the earth-
9- The glory of the Lord shall endure forever: the Lord shall
rejoice in his works. He tooketh on the earth, and it trembleth: he
loucheth the hills, and they smoke,
10. O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for
his wonderful works to the children of men! And let them sacrifice
the sacrifices of thanksgiving, and declare his works with
rejoicing,
I L O give thanks unto the Lord; call upon his name; make
known his deeds among the people. Sing unto him. sing psalms
unto him: talk ye of all his wondrous' works. Glory ye in his holy
name: let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord. Seek the
Lord, and his strength; seek his face evermore,
12. Remember his marvelous works that he hath done; his
wonders, and the judgments of his mouth. He is the Lord our God;
his judgments are in all the earth- I will sing unto the Lord as long
as 1 live: I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.
—Extracts from the Bible.
DEFINITIONS. -2. Found'ed, built, established. 3, Hab-i-ta'
lion, place of abode. 5. Ref 'uge. shelter, protection. Co'ny. a
kind of rabbit. 6. Ap-point'ed, ordained.
170 ECLECTIC SERIES.
NOTES. --5. Cedars of Lebanon. A species of cedar, of great
magnificence, formerly abundant in Mt. Lebanon and the Taurus
Range in Asia Minor, but now almost entirely destroyed. The
wood is durable and fragrant, and was used in the construction of
costly buildings, such as the palace of David and Solomon's
Temple.
7. Leviathan. This name is applied in the Old Testament to
some huge water animaL In some cases it appears to mean the
crocodile, but in others the whale or a large sea serpent.
LIL MY MOTHER.
1. Often into folly straying,
O, my mother! how Fve grieved her!
Oft Fve heard her for me praying.
Till the gushing tears relieved her;
And she gently rose and smiled.
Whispering, "God will keep my child."
2. She was youthful then, and sprightly,
Fondly on my father leaning.
Sweet she spoke, her eyes shone brightly.
And her words were full of meaning;
Now, an autumn leaf decayed;
I, perhaps, have made it fade.
3. But, whatever ills betide thee.
Mother, in them all I share;
In thy sickness watch beside thee.
And beside thee kneel in prayer.
Best of mothers! on my breast
Lean thy head, and sink to rest.
FIFTH READER. 171
LIIL THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
Felicia Dorothea Hemans (b. 1794, d. 1835) was born in
Liverpool, England. Her maiden name was Browne. Her
childhood was spent in Wales. Her first volume of poems was
published in 1808; her second in 1812. In 1812 she was married to
Captain Hemans, but he left her about six years after their
marriage, and they never again lived together. She went, with her
five sons, to reside with her mother, then living near St. Asaph, in
North Wales. Mrs. Hemans then resumed her literary pursuits, and
wrote much and well. Her poetry is smooth and graceful, and she
excels in description. Many of her poems are exceedingly
beautiful.
1. Child, amid the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye.
Ever following silently;
Father, by the breeze at eve
Called thy harvest work to leave;
Pray! Ere yet the dark hours be.
Lift the heart, and bend the knee.
2. Traveler, in the stranger's land.
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world gone;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;
Sailor, on the darkening sea;
Lift the heart and bend the knee.
3. Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set of sun;
Woman, o'er the lowly slain
Weeping on his burial plain;
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh.
Kindred by one holy lie.
Heaven's first star alike ye see;
Lift the heart, and bend the knee.
172 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LIV. THE WILL.
Characters.-SWIPES. a brewer\ CURRIE, a saddler. FRANK
MILLINGTON;a/7rf SQUIRE DRAWL.
Swipes. A sober occasion, this, brother Currie. Who would have
thought the old lady was so near her end?
Currie. Ah! we must all die, brother Swipes; and those who live
the longest outlive the most.
Swipes. True, true; but, since we must die and leave our earthly
possessions, it is well that the law lakes such good care of us. Had
the old lady her senses when she departed?
Cur. Perfectly, perfectly. Squire Drawl told me she read every
word of the will aloud, and never signed her name better.
Swipes. Had you any hint from the Squire what disposition she
made of her property?
Cur. Not a whisper; the Squire is as close as an underground
tomb; but one of the witnesses hinted to me that she had cut off
her graceless nephew, Frank, without a shilling.
Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she? You know I come in,
then, in right of my wife.
Cur. And I in my own right; and this is no doubt the reason
why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. Squire
Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight
as one of your beer barrels. But here comes the young reprobate.
He must be present, as a matter of course, you know. [Enter
FRANK MILLINGTON.] Your servant, young gentleman. So
your benefactress has left you at last.
Swipes. It is a painful thing to part with old and good friends,
Mr, Millington.
Frank, It is so, sir; but I could bear her loss better
FIFTH READER 173
had 1 not so often been ungrateful for her kindness. She was my
only friend, and I knew not her value.
Cur. It is loo late to repent, Master Millington. You will now
have a chance to earn your own bread.
Swipes. Ay, ay, or the sweat of your brow, as better people are
obliged to. You would make a fine brewer's boy, if you were not
too old.
Cur. Ay, or a saddler's lackey, if held with a tight rein.
Frank, Gentlemen, your remarks imply that my aunt has treated
me as I deserved. I am above your insults, and only hope you will
bear your fortune as modestly as 1 shall mine submissively, 1 shall
retire, [Going: He meets SQUIRE DRAWL.]
Squire. Stop, stop, young man. We must have your presence.
Good morning, gentlemen; you are early on the ground.
Cur. 1 hope the Squire is well to-day.
Squire, Pretty comfortable, for an invalid.
Swipes. I trust the damp air has not affected your lungs again.
Squire, No, 1 believe not. But, since the heirs at law are all
convened, 1 shall now proceed to open the last will and testament
of your deceased relative, according to law.
Swipes. [While the SQUIRE is breaking the seal,] It is a trying
thing to leave all one's possessions. Squire; in this manner.
Cur. It really makes me feel melancholy when I look around
and see everything but the venerable owner of these goods. Well
did the Preacher say, "All is vanity."
Squire, Please to be seated, gentlemen. [He puts on his
spectacles and begins to read slowly .] "Imprirmis; whereas, my
nephew, Francis Millington, by his disobedience and ungrateful
conduct, has shown himself unworthy of my bounty, and
incapable of managing my large estate, I do hereby give and
bequeath all my houses, farms, stocks.
174 ECLECTIC SERIES.
bonds, moneys, and property, both personal and real, to my dear
cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Mall Street, brewer, and Christopher
Currie, of Fly Court, saddler." [The SQUIRE here takes off his
spectacles, and begins To wipe them very leisurely.]
Swipes. Generous creature! kind soul! I always loved her!
Cur. She was good, she was kind;--and, brother Swipes, when
we divide, I think Til lake the mansion house.
Swipes. Not so fast, if you please, Mr. Currie, My wife has long
had her eye upon that, and must have it.
Cur. There will be two words to that bargain, Mr, Swipes. And,
besides, I ought to have the first choice. Did I not lend her a new
chaise every time she wished lo ride? And who knows what
influence--
Swipes. Am I not named first in her will? and did I not furnish
her with my best small beer for more than six months? And who
knows--
Frank. Gentlemen, I must leave you. [Going.]
Squire. [Putting on his spectacles very deliberately. ] Pray,
gentlemen, keep your seals, I have not done yet. Lei me see;
where was I? Ay, "All my property, both personal and real, to my
dear cousins, Samuel Swipes, of Malt Street, brewer,"--
Swipes. Yes!
Squire, "And Christopher Currie, of Fly Court, saddler,"
Cur. Yes!
Squire. "To have and to hold, IN TRUST, for the sole and
exclusive benefit of my nephew, Francis Millington, until he shall
have altained the age of twenty-one years, by which lime I hope
he will have so far reformed his evil habits, as that he may safely
be intrusted with the large fortune which I hereby bequeath to
him."
Swipes. What is all this? You don't mean that we are
humbugged? In triisl! How does that appear? Where is it?
FIFTH READER.
175
Squire. There; in two words of as good old English as 1 ever
penned.
Cur. Pretty well, too, Mr. Squire, if we must be sent for to be
made a laughingstock of. She shall pay for every ride she has had
out of my chaise, 1 promise you.
Swipes. And for every drop of my beer. Fine times, if two
sober, hard-working citizens are to be brought here to be made the
sport of a graceless profligate- But we will manage his property
for him. Mr. Currie: we will make him feel that trustees are not to
be trifled with.
O^;'. That we will.
Squire. Not so fast, gentlemen; for the instrument is dated three
years ago; and the young gentleman must be already of age, and
able to take care of himself. Is it not so, Francis?
Frank, It is, your worship.
Squire. Then, gentlemen, having attended to the breaking of the
seal, according to law, you are released from any further trouble
about the business.
DefitjitiOm!^. '- DLs-p-n-^i'tion, disposa.1. Orfe^e'less, d^prai^d^
COJYMpi- Kep'ro-bate^ one mtyrati^ la^il. lAch'^y^ fzn. i^tKudiug
strv<inl^ <K footman. Ite^elfc^ed.', dead^ (J^jn-vfiiied^ Tii.ei t^f^ethfiT^
tESsemblr^d. L:]-prVmia (Xaim),. in the .fi^'st place. Chalge (^pro^
fliiaK)j a kind of ia^or^niietUd carvi'^^^. ke-fdrrned't reinnied is a
ffood staie. Prfif li-gate, a peraoix openly iij\d aharndtHJii^ viam^s^
Jin'alir]4-nifliit (a terjui Cn lawj^ o i^nftnj esupresd^^ of som^ aot, fen-
tracir etc-
NOTES. --Terms having the same, or nearly the same, meaning,
as, "will and testament," "give and bequeath," "to have and to
hold." "sole and exclusive," are commonly joined in this way in
legal documents.
Personal property usually consists of things temporary and
movable, while real property includes things fixed and immovable
such as lands and tenements.
DEFINITIONS. --Dis-po-si'tion, disposal. Grace'less,
depraved, corrupt. Rep'ro-bate, one morally lost. Lack'ey,
an attending servant, a footman. De-ceased', dead. Con-
vened', met together, assembled. Im-pri'mis (Latin )^ in the
first place. Chaise (pro. shaz), a kind of two-wheeled
carriage. Re-formed', returned to a good state. Prof ' li-gate,
a person openly and shamelessly vicious. In'slru-ment {a
term in law), a writing expressive of some act, contract, etc.
176 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LV.THE NOSE AND THE EYES.
William Cowper(fo, 1731, d. 1800) was the son of an English
clergyman, and was born in Great Berkhamslead, Hertfordshire,
England- He was sent to Westminster School when he was ten
years of age, and he remained there, a diligent student, eight years.
He then studied law, and was admitted to the bar, but he never
practiced his profession. He was appointed to a clerkship in the
House of Lords when he was about thirty years old, but he never
entered upon the discharge of his duties. He became insane, and
was sent to a private asylum. After his recovery, he found a home
in the family of the Rev, Mr. Unwin. On the death of this
gentleman, he resided with the widow till her death— most of the
time at Olney. His first writing's were published in 1782, "The
Task," some hymns, a number of minor poems, and his
translations or Homer, composed his published works. His
insanity returned at limes, and darkened a pure and gentle life at
its close,
1. Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose;
The spectacles set them, unhappily, wrong;
The point in dispute was, as all the world knows,
To which the said spectacles ought to belong,
2. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause.
With a great deal of skill and a wig full of learning.
While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws.
So famed for his talent in nicely discerning.
3. "In behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear.
And your lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find.
That the Nose has the spectacles always to wear.
Which amounts to possession, time out of mind."
4. Then, holding the spectacles up to the court,
"Your lordship observes, they are made with a straddle
As wide as the ridge of the Nose is; in short.
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.
5. "Again, would your lordship a moment suppose
(T is a case that has happened, and may happen again)
That the visage or countenance had not a Nose,
Pray, who would or who could wear spectacles then?
FIFTH READER.
Ill
6. "On the whole it appears, and my argument shows,
With a reasoning the court will never condemn.
Thai the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,
And the Nose was as plainly intended for them,"
7. Then shifting his side (as a lawyer knows how),
He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes:
But what were his arguments, few people know.
For the court did not think them equally wise.
8- So his lordship decreed, with a grave, solemn tone.
Decisive and clear, without one iforbut.
That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on.
By daylight or candlelight, --Eyes should be shut.
(;5]'n'ing {pro. dia-zSrn'iiig'), ntnrkinff ^» difffi-r^T]^^ fHf^iingmshhif/.
3. J3^^-li(tlf( sti;j/^o?V-j di^/eme- 9, Ife-erecd', dtterrtiinet^ jndicioJl^ fcj
LVI. AN ICEBERG.
DEFINITIONS. --2. Ar'gued, discussed, treated by reasoning.
Dis-cern'ing {pro. diz-zern'ing), marking as dijf event,
distinguishing, 3. Be-half, support, defense. 8. De-creed',
determined judicially by authority, ordered.
Louis Legrand Noble (b. 1813, d. 1882) was horn in Otsetgo
County, New York. When Iwelve years of age, he removed with
his family to the wilds of Michigan, but after the death of his
father he returned to New York to study for the ministry, which he
entered in 1840. About this time he published his first productions,
two Indian romances in the form of poems, entitled "Pewatem"
and "Nimahmin." Mr. Noble lived for a time in North Carolina,
and later at Catskill on the Hudson, where he became a warm
friend of the artist Cole. After the latler's death he wrote a
memorial of him. Other works of this author are "The Hours, and
other Poems," and "After Icebergs with a Painter," from which this
selection is taken.
1 . We have just passed a fragment of some one of the
surrounding icebergs that had amused us. It bore the resemblance
of a huge polar bear, reposing upon the base of an inverted cone,
with a twist of a seashell, and whirling slowly round and round.
The ever-attending green
178 ECLECTW SERIES.
water, with its aerial clearness, enabled us to see its spiral folds
and horns as they hung suspended in the deep.
2. The bear, a ten-foot mass in tolerable proportion, seemed to
be regularly beset by a pack of hungry littJe swells. First, one
would take him on the haunch, then whip back into the sea over
his tail and between his legs. Presently a bolder swell would rise
and pitch into his back with a ferocity that threatened instant
destruction. It only washed his satin fleece the whiter,
3. While Bruin was turning to look the daring assailant in the
face, the rogue had pitched himself back into his cave. No sooner
that, than a very bulldog of a billow would attack him in the face.
The serenity with which the impertinent assault was borne was
complete. It was but a puff of silvery dust, powdering his mane
with fresher brightness. Nothing would be left of bull but a little
froth of all the foam displayed in the fierce onset. He too would
turn and scud into his hiding place.
4. Persistent little waves! After a dash, singly, all around, upon
the common enemy, as if by some silent agreement underwater,
they would all rush on at once, with their loudest roar and
shaggiest foam, and overwhelm poor bear so completely that
nothing less might be expected than to behold him broken in four
quarters, and floating helplessly asunder. Mistaken spectators!
Although, by his momentary rolling and plunging, he was
evidently aroused, yet neither Bruin nor his burrow was at all the
worse for all the wear and washing,
5. The deep fluting, the wrinkled folds, and cavities, over and
through which the green and silvery water rushed back into the
sea, rivaled the most exquisite sculpture. And nature not only
gives her marbles, with the finest lines, the most perfect lights and
shades, she colors them also. She is no monochromist, but
polychroic, imparling such touches of dove tints, emerald, and
azure as she bestows upon her gems and skies.
FIFTH READER.
179
6- We are bearing up under the big berg as closely as we dare.
To our delight, wliat we have been wishing and watching for is
actually taking place: loud explosions, with heavy falls of ice,
followed by the calaracl-like roar, and the high, thin seas,
wheeling away beautifully crested with sparkling foam. If it is
possible, imagine the effect upon the beholder: this precipice of
ice, with tremendous cracking, is failing toward us with a majestic
and awful motion.
7. Down sinks the long water line into the black deep: down go
the porcelain crags and galleries of glassy sculpture--a speechless
and awful baptism. Now it pauses, and returns: up rise sculptures
and crags streaming with ihe shining white brine: up comes the
great encircling line, followed by things new and slrange--crags,
niches, balconies, and caves; up, up, it rises, higher and higher
still, crossing the very breast of the grand ice, and all bathed with
rivulets of gleaming foam. Over goes the summit, ridge, pinnacles,
and all, standing off obliquely in the opposite air. Now it pauses in
its upward roll: back it comes again, cracking, cracking, cracking,
"groaning out harsh thunder" as it comes, and threatening to burst,
like a mighty bomb, into millions of glittering fragments. The
spectacle is terrific and magnificent. Emotion is irrepressible, and
peals of wild hurrah burst forth from all.
tftri sarw/flefiOTi- Befilp^tnre, earved w€rk. Mfin'&^hr5-ntifit, fjn^
ie/*ti paints i^i a sin^e c^t^trf'. Pol-y-ehra-'iej ^iren. to tW ris* i5/"Mfl«^
in^i^. Ir''r9-pTT:BB'i-bl&, not la 6tf rsstraijied.
Notes--Only about one eighth of an iceberg appears above the
surface of the water. When one side of it grows heavier than
another, through unequal melting and the action of the waves, the
whole mass rolls over in the water in the manner so well described
in this lesson.
DEFINITIONS.— 1. Cone, a solid body having a circular base,
from which if tapers gradually to a point. 2. Swells, waves. 3.
Se-ren'i-ty, quietness, calmness. 5. Ex'qui-site, exceedingly
nice, giving rare satisfaction. Sculp'ture, carved work. Mon'o-
chro-mist, one who paints in a single color. Pol-y-chro'ic, given
to the use of many colors. 1. Pin'na-cles, high, spirelike points.
Ob-lique'ly, slantingly, Ir-re-press'i-ble, not to be restrained.
ISO ECLECTIC SERIES.
LVII. ABOUT QUAIL.
William Post Hawes {b. 1803, dAS42) was born in New York
Cily, and was a graduate of Columbia College. He was a lawyer
by profession. His writings consist mainly of essays, contributed
to various newspapers and magazines, and show great descriptive
power. He was a frequent contributor to the "Spirit of the Times,"
under the title of "Cypress, Jr.," on various sporting topics. After
his death a collection of his writings was published in two
volumes, entitled, "Sporting Scenes" and "Sundry Sketches."
1, The quail is peculiarly a domestic bird, and is attached to his
birthplace and the home of his forefathers. The various members
of the aquatic families educate their children in the cool summer
of the far north, and bathe their warm bosoms in July in the iced
waters of Hudson Bay; but when Boreas scatters the rushes where
they had builded their bedchambers, they desert their fatherland,
and fly to disport in the sunny waters of the south.
2, The songsters of the woodland, when their customary crops
of insects and berries are cut off in the fall, gather themselves to
renew their loves and get married in more genial climes. Presently,
the groves so vocal, and the sky so full, shall be silent and barren.
The "melancholy days" will soon be here; only thou, dear Bob
White, will remain.
3, The quail is the bird for me. He is no rover, no emigrant. He
stays at home, and is identified with the soil. Where the farmer
works, he lives, and loves, and whistles. In budding springtime,
and in scorching summer--in bounteous autumn, and in barren
winter, his voice is heard from the same bushy hedge fence, and
from his customary cedars. Cupidity and cruelty may drive him to
the woods, and to seek more quiet seats; but be merciful and kind
to him, and he will visit your barnyard, and sing for you upon the
boughs of the apple tree by your gateway.
4. When warm May first wooes the young flowers to open and
receive her breath, then begin the cares and responsibilities
FIFTH READER.
mm
181
of wedded life. Away fly the happy pair )o seek some grassy
tussock, where, safe from the eye of the hawk and the nose of the
fox, they may rear their expectant brood in peace.
182 ECLECTIC SERIES.
5. Oats harvest arrives, and the fields are waving with yellow
grain. Now be wary, O kind-hearted cradler, and tread not into
those pure while eggs ready to burst with life! Soon there is a
peeping sound heard, and lo! a proud mother walketh
magnificently in the midst of her children, scratching and picking,
and leaching them how to swallow. Happy she, if she may be
permitted to bring them up to maturity, and uncompelled to renew
her joys in another nest.
6- The assiduities of a mother have a beauty and a sacredness
about them that command respect and reverence in all animal
nature, human or inhuman--whal a lie does that word carry--
except, perhaps, in monsters, insects, and fish. I never yet heard of
the parental tenderness of a trout, eating up his little baby, nor of
the filial gratitude of a spider, nipping the life out of his gray-
headed father, and usurping his web.
7. But if you would see the purest, the sincerest, the most
affecting piety of a parent's love, startle a young family of quails,
and watch the conduct of the mother. She will not leave you. No,
not she. But she will fall at your feet, uttering a noise which none
but a distressed mother can make, and she will run, and flutter,
and seem to try to be caught, and cheat your outstretched hand,
and affect lo be wing-broken and wounded, and yet have just
strength to tumble along, until she has drawn you, fatigued, a safe
distance from her threatened children and the young hopes of her
heart; and then will she mount, whirring with glad strength, and
away through the maze of trees you have not seen before, like a
close-shot bullet, fly to her skulking infants,
8. Listen now. Do you hear those three half-plaintive notes,
quickly and clearly poured out? She is calling the boys and girls
together. She sings not now "Bob While!" nor "Ah! Bob While!"
That is her husband's love call, or his trumpet blast of defiance.
But she calls sweetly and
FIFTH READER,
183
softly for her lost children. Hear them "Peep! peep! peep!" at the
welcome voice of their mother's love! They are coming together-
Soon the whole family will meet again.
9. It is a foul sin to disturb them; but retread your devious way,
and let her hear your coming footsteps, breaking down the briers,
as you renew the danger. She is quiet. Not a word is passed
between the fearful fugitives. Now, if you have the heart to do it,
lie low, keep still, and imitate the call of the hen quail. O mother!
mother! how your heait would die if you could witness the
deception! The little ones raise up their trembling heads, and catch
comfort and imagined safely from the sound. "Peep! peep!" They
come to you. straining their little eyes, and, clustering together and
answering, seem to say, "Where is she? Mother! mother! we are
here!"
Jiamng a voice- 3- I-diln'ti-fi&d, uml^id- Cu-pl'[l'']-*ij, &£fftr iJcsiVe M-
/'OAWCss .'WfteiAniff* 4- Tiia'siK^kj n £u/i ofgnzsa or tifiiffS, 5i Cj^Vler,
Oiif^ loho Ks^ f2 f^r&ilej which iS an instrumeTii a!i<u.fc*'.'i io a i^cyihs in
cutdruf gram, fl* U-gflrp'ing, mixing artel hMinrf in. j^oiisss^^JHi 63
Jbree. 7- Af-feet^, to pfeft^fr^- 9- JJa'vi-oiiSj winding,
NOTE---1. Boreas is the name which the ancient Greeks gave to
the north wind.
DEFINITIONS-- 1. A-quat'ic,/m///t'/7n>/g the \yafcr. 2.
Vo'cal, having a voice. 3. I-den'ti-fied, united. Cu-pid'i-ty,
eager desire to possess something. 4. Tus'sock, a tuft of grass
or twigs. 5. Cra'dler, one who uses a cradle, which is an
instrument attached to a scythe in cutting grain . 6. U-
surp'ing, seizing and holding in possession by force. 1. Af-
fect', to pretend. 9. DeVi-ous, winding.
LVIIL THE BLUE AND THE GRAY.
1. By the flow of the inland river.
Whence the fleets of iron have fled.
Where the blades of the grave grass quiver.
Asleep are the ranks of the dead;—
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the one, the Blue:
Under the other, the Gray.
184 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. These, in the robings of glory.
Those, in the gloom of defeat,
All, with the battle blood gory.
In the dusk of eternity meet;—
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the laurel, the Blue;
Under the willow, the Gray.
3. From the silence of sorrowful hours.
The desolate mourners go.
Lovingly laden with flowers,
Alike for the friend and the foe;--
Under the sod and the dew.
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the roses, the Blue;
Under the lilies, the Gray.
4. So, with an equal splendor.
The morning sun rays fall,
With a touch, impartially tender.
On the blossoms blooming for all;--
Under the sod and the dew.
Waiting the judgment day;
Broidered with gold, the Blue;
Mellowed with gold, the Gray.
5. So, when the summer calleth.
On forest and field of grain,
With an equal murmur falleth
The cooling drip of the rain;—
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Wet with the rain, the Blue;
Wet with the rain, the Gray.
FIFTH READER. 185
6. Sadly, but not with upbraiding,
The generous deed was done:
In the storm of the years that are fading,
No braver battle was won;—
Under the sod and the dew,
Waiting the judgment day;
Under the blossoms, the Blue;
Under the garlands, the Gray,
7. No more shall the war cry sever.
Or the winding rivers be red;
They banish our anger forever,
When they laurel the graves of our dead;--
Under the sod and the dew.
Waiting the judgment day;
Love and tears, for the Blue;
Tears and love, for the Gray.
--F. M. Finch.
NOTE, --The above touching little poem first appeared in the
"Atlantic Monthly" in September, 1867. It commemorates the
noble action on the part of the women at Columbus, Miss., who in
decorating the graves strewed flowers impartially on those of the
Confederate and of the Federal soldiers.
LIX. THE MACHINIST'S RETURN.
[Adapted from a letter written by a correspondent of the
Washington "Capital."]
I. On our way from Springfield to Boston, a stout, black-
whiskered man sat immediately in front of me, in the drawing-
room car, whose maneuvers were a source of constant amusement.
He would get up every five minutes, hurry away to the narrow
passage leading to the
186 ECLECTIC SERIES.
door of the car, and commence laughing in the most violent
manner, continuing that healthful exercise until he observed that
some one was watching him, when he would return to his seat.
2. As we neared Boston these demonstrations increased in
frequency and violence, but the stranger kepi his seat and
chuckled to himself. He shifted the position of his two
portmanteaus, or placed them on the seat as if he was gelling
ready to leave. As we were at least twenty-five miles from Boston,
such early preparations seemed extremely ridiculous. He became
so excited at last thai he could not keep his secret. Some one must
be made a confidant; and as I happened to be the nearest to him,
he selected me.
3. Turning around suddenly, and rocking himself to and fro in
his chair, he said, "I have been away from home three years. Have
been in Europe. My folks don't ejqiect me for three months yet,
but I got through and started, 1 telegraphed them at the last station
—they've got the dispatch by this time." As he said this he rubbed
his hands, and changed the portmanteau on his left to the right,
and then the one on the right to the left,
4. "Have you a wife?" said I. "Yes, and three children," was the
answer. He then got up and folded his overcoat anew, and hung it
over the back of the seal. "You are somewhat nervous just now,
are you not?" said I.
5. "Well, I should think so," he replied. "I have n't slept soundly
for a week. Do you know," he went on, speaking in a low tone, "I
am almost certain this train will run off the track and break my
neck before I get to Boston. I have had too much good luck lately
for one man. It can't last. It rains so hard, sometimes, that you
think it's never going to stop; then it shines so bright you think it's
always going to shine; and just as you are settled
FIFTH READER. 187
in either belief, you are knocked over by a change, lo show you
thai you know nothing about il."
6. "Well, according to your philosophy," I said, "you will
continue to have sunshine because you are expecting a storm."
"Perhaps so," he replied; "but il is curious that the only thing
which makes me think I shall get through safe is, I fear that I shall
not."
7. "I am a machinist," he continued; "I made a discovery;
nobody believed in il; I spent all my money in trying lo bring it
out; I mortgaged my home--everylhing went. Everybody laughed
at me--everybody but my wife. She said she would work her
fingers off before I should give it up. 1 went lo England. At first I
met with no encouragement whatever, and came very near
Jumping off London Bridge. I went into a workshop lo earn money
enough to come home wilh: there I mel the man I wanted. To
make a long story short, I've brought home £50,000 wilh me, and
here I am."
8. "Good!" I exclaimed. "Yes," said he, "and the best of it is,
she knows nothing about il. She has been disappointed so often
that I concluded I would not write to her aboul my unexpected
good luck. When I got my money, though, I started for home at
once."
9. "And now, T suppose, you will make her happy?" "Happy!"
he replied; "why, you don't know anything aboul it! She's worked
night and day since 1 have been in England, trying to support
herself and ihe children decently. They paid her thirteen cenls
apiece for making shirts, and that's the way she has lived half the
lime. She'll come down lo the depot to meel me in a gingham
dress and a shawl a hundred years old, and she'll think she's
dressed up! Perhaps she won't have any fine dresses in a week or
so, eh?'"
10. The stranger then strode down the passageway again, and
gelling in a corner where he seemed to suppose that he was out of
sighl, went through the strangest pantomime, --laughing.
188 ECLECTIC SERIES.
putting his mouth into the drollest shapes, and swinging himself
back and forth in the limited space.
1 1. As the train was going into the depot, I placed myself on the
platform of the car in front of the one in which I had been riding,
and opposite the stranger, who, with a portmanteau in each hand,
was standing on the lowest step, ready to jump to the ground. I
looked from his face to the faces of the people before us, but saw
no sign of recognition- Suddenly he cried, "There they are!"
12. Then he laughed outright, but in a hysterical way, as he
looked over the crowd in front of him, I followed his eye and saw,
some distance back, as if crowded out by the well-dressed and
elbowing throng, a little woman in a faded dress and a well-worn
hat, with a face almost painful in its intense but hopeful
expression, glancing rapidly from window to window as the
coaches passed by.
13. She had not seen the stranger, but a moment after she
caught his eye. In another instant he had jumped to the platform
with his two portmanteaus, and, pushing his way through the
crowd, he rushed towards the place where she was standing. I
think I never saw a face assume so many different expressions in
so short a time as did that of the little woman while her husband
was on his way to meet her.
14. She was not pretty,— on the contrary, she was very plain-
looking; but somehow I fell a big lump rise in my throat as I
watched her. She was trying to laugh, but, God bless her, how
completely she failed in the attempt! Her mouth got into the
position to laugh, but it never moved after that, save to draw down
at the corners and quiver, while her eyes blinked so fast that I
suspect she only caught occasional glimpses of the broad-
shouldered fellow who elbowed his way so rapidly toward her.
15. As he drew close, and dropped the portmanteaus, she turned
to one side, and covered her face with her
FIFTH READER.
189
hands; and thus she was when the slron^ man gathered her up in
his arms as if she were a child, and held her sobbing to his breast-
16. There were enough staring at them, heaven knows: so I
turned my eyes away a moment, and then I saw two boys in
threadbare roundabouts standing near, wiping their eyes on their
sleeves, and bursting into tears anew at every fresh demonstration
on the part of their mother. When I looked at the stranger again he
had his hat drawn over his eyes; but his wife was looking up at
him. and it seemed as if the pent-up tears of those weary months
of wailing were streaming through her eyelids.
nFTrMTTiUKS. — 1. Marncu^Terg, ?rir?uf7^e»t4, S, Dera-on-strB,'-'
L'boii^ ^^jrr^^^hn of ihe yVrJ^.flj^ f'^ cJiiward ^^ifffia. Port-mHii'teaLiJ.
daiU',r:i'j£ ta it-Afjirt Keereff^ are ijil/uvt^d. 3. Dis-paCth', a jfiessa^s.
chiTien and ffriffines, 'MQrV^&^A (jirfy^ nii^t'^ajd), ghttn a.s ^e^nrif^
/fjv de&l &. Ging'liani, « h'.7jfi of cofion drif/t wkkh ia dyfd tefijra
I! is tcAiAfn- 10. P&Ti'tchiniine. ai?fiii^ wirhavt jrpsak.mf^, dumb show*
LX. MAKE WAY FOR LIBERTY,
James Montgomery (b. 1771, d. 1854) was born in Irvine,
Ayrshire, Scotland. His father, a Moravian preacher, sent him to a
Moravian school at Fulneck. Yorkshire, England, to be educated.
In 1794 he started "The Sheffield Iris," a weekly paper, which he
edited, with marked ability, till 1825. He was fined and
imprisoned twice for publishing articles decided to be seditious.
His principal poetical works are "The World before the Flood,"
"Greenland." "The West Indies," "The Wanderer in Switzerland,"
"The Pelican Island," and "Original Hymns, for Public, Private,
and Social Devotion." Mr. Montgomery's style is generally too
diffuse; but its smoothness and the evident sincerity of his
emotions have made many of his hymns and minor poems very
popular. A pension of £300 a year was granted to him in 1833-
DEFINITIONS. --L Ma-neuVers, movements. 2. Dem-on-
stra'tions, expression of the feelings by outward si gits. Poit-
man'leau (pro. porl-man'to), a traveling bag, usually made
of leather. Con-fi-danl', one to whom secrets are intrusted.
3. Dis-patch', a message. 6. Phi-los'o-phy, reasoning. 1 . Ma-
chin'isl, a constructor of ma chines and engines. Mort'gaged
(jiro. mor'gajd), given as security for debt. 9. Ging'ham, a
kind of cotton cloth which is dyed before it is woven. 10-
Pan'to-mime, acting without speaking, dumb show. 12. Hys-
ter'ic-al, convulsive, fitful.
1. "Make way for Liberty!" he cried;
Made way for Liberty, and died!
190 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
A wall, where every conscious stone
Seemed to its kindred thousands grown;
A rampart all assaults to bear,
Till time to dust their frames should wear
A wood like that enchanted grove.
In which, with fiends, Rinaldo strove.
Where every silent tree possessed
A spirit prisoned in its breast,
Which the first stroke of coming strife
Would startle into hideous life:
So dense, so still, the Auslrians stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
3- Impregnable their front appears.
All horrent with projected spears.
Whose polished points before them shine.
From flank to flank, one brilliant line,
Bright as the breakers' splendors run
Along the billows to the sun.
4- Opposed to these, a hovering band,
Contending for their native laud;
Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke
From manly necks the ignoble yoke.
And forged their fetters into swords,
On equal terms to fight their lords;
And what insurgent rage had gained.
In many a mortal fray maintained:
Marshaled once more at Freedom's call,
They came to conquer or to fall,
Where he who conquered, he who fell.
Was deemed a dead or living Tell!
FIFTH READER. 19!
5. And now the work of life and death
Hung on the passing of a breath;
The fire of conflict burned within;
The battle trembled to begin;
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground,
Point for attack was nowhere found;
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed,
The unbroken line of lances blazed;
That line 'l were suicide to meet,
And perish at their tyrants' feet;
How could they rest within their graves.
And leave their homes the home of slaves?
Would they not feel their children tread
With clanking chains above their head?
6. It must not be: this day, this hour,
Annihilates the oppressor's power
All Switzerland is in the field.
She will not fly, she can not yield;
Few were the numbers she could boast.
But every freeman was a host.
And felt as though himself were he
On whose sole arm hung victory.
7. It did depend on one. indeed:
Behold him! Arnold Winkelried!
There sounds not to the trump of fame
The echo of a nobler name.
Unmarked he stood amid the throng,
In rumination deep and long.
Till you might see with sudden grace,
The very thought come o'er his face;
And by the motion of his form:
Anticipate the bursting storm;
192
ECLECTIC SERIES.
And by the uplifting of his brow,
Tell where the boll would strike, and how.
But 't was no sooner thought than done;
The field was in a moment won.
8. "Make way for Liberty!" he cried:
Then ran, with arms extended wide.
As if his dearest friend lo clasp;
Ten spears he swept within his grasp:
"Make way for Liberty!" he cried,
Their keen points met from side to side;
He bowed among them like a tree.
And thus made way for Liberty-
9. Swift to the breach his comrades fly;
"Make way for Liberty!" they cry,
And through the Austrian phalanx dart.
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart;
While instantaneous as his fall.
Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all.
An earthquake could not overthrow
A city with a surer blow.
10. Thus Switzerland again was free,
Thus Death made way for Liberty!
DKF'lNlTlOi^s. — ^. FhS'lan^T a EaJy of iroojts Jbrmsfl in clone
flj7Yr^. C5n'sc3oiSH, M^nsthlfit knowint^. KIti'Je-i^^, ikose ofliS:^ natiirHj
Telalht&^. R^m*J.fari, thai K'hivJL d^/etids Jr^^m assault^ a Auiwuri,
B> lin.-.pr5g'ua^l>le, Oiai rnr* ttol he mov^ifi or sAr/iJp ji, H^Vrtirhfi, xtaTi'l-
ing^ o}it Hit &n.'E^/*j* 4. Tn-aur'gent^ rising ia oppQsitkn to autf^ority,
fi- AiL-DJ^lii-IStR^s, ds^ir^r^fif. 7. Kj^-im-n^'tion, ike at.'f offntain-fff in-ecJ-
ibJUi'<?fi. d. B-r^BiCh,; a gtjp or opening maiit h^ hreakinff^
DEFINITIONS. -2. Pha'lanx. a body of troops formed in
close array. Con'scious, sensible, knowing. Kin'dred, those
of like nature, relatives. Ram'part, that which defends from
assault, a bulwark. 3. Im-preg'na-ble, that can not be
moved or shaken. Hor'rent, standing out like bristles. 4. In-
sur'gent, rising in opposition to authority. 13. An-ni'hi-
lates, destroys. 7. Ru-mi-na'tion, the act of musing,
meditation. 9. Breach, a gap or opening made by breaking.
FIFTH READER. 193
NOTES, --The incident related in this poem is one of actual
occurrence, and took place at the battle of Sempach, fought in
1386 A.D., between only 1,300 Swiss and a large army of
Austrians, The latter had obtained possession of a narrow pass in
the mountains, from which it seemed impossible to dislodge them
until Arnold von Winkelried made a breach in their line, as
narrated,
Rinaldo is a knight in Tasso's "Jerusalem Delivered" (Canto
XVIII, 17-40), who enters an enchanted wood, and, by culling
down a tree in spile of the nymphs and phantoms that endeavor in
every way to slop him, breaks the spell; the Christian army are
thus enabled to enter the grove and obtain timber for their engines
of war.
LXI. THE ENGLISH SKYLARK.
Elihu Burritt (b. 1810, d. 1879). "the learned blacksmith," was
born in New Britain, Conn. His father was a shoemaker. Having
received only a limited amount of instruction at the district school,
he was apprenticed to a blacksmith about 1827. During his
apprenticeship he labored hard at self-instruction. He worked at
his trade many years, from ten to twelve hours each day, but
managed, in the meantime to acquire a knowledge of many
ancient and modern languages. He made translations from several
of these, which were published in the "Amerk:an Eclectic
Review." In 1844 he commenced the publication of "The Christian
Citizen," His leading literary works are "Sparks from the Anvil,"
"A Voice from the Forge," "Peace Papers," and "Walks to John o'
Groat's House." From the last of these the following selection is
abridged,
L Take it in all, no bird in either hemisphere equals the English
lark in heart or voice, for both unite to make it the sweetest, the
happiest, the welcomesl singer that was ever winged, like the high
angels of God's love. It is the living ecstasy of joy when it mounts
up into its "glorious privacy of light."
2. On the earth it is timid, silent, and bashful, as if not at home,
and not sure of its right to be there at all. It is rather homely
withal, having nothing in feather, feature.
194
ECLECTIC SERIES.
or form lo attract nolice. ll is seemingly made to be heard, not
seen, reversing the o!d axiom addressed to children when getting
noisy.
3. Its mission is music, and it floods a thousand acres of the
blue sky with it several times a day. Out of thai palpitating speck
of living joy there wells forth a sea of twittering ecstasy upon the
morning and evening air- It does not ascend by gyrations, like the
eagle and birds of prey. It mounts up like a human aspiration.
4. It seems lo spread its wings and to be lifted straight upwards
out of sight by the afflatus of its own happy heart. To pour out this
in undulating rivulets of rhapsody is apparently the only motive of
its ascension. This it is that has made it so loved of all generalions.
5. !l is the singing angel of man's nearest heaven, whose vital
breath is music. Its sweet warbling is only the metrical palpitation
of its life of joy. It goes up over the rooftrees of the rural hamlet
on the wings of its song, as if to train the human soul to trial
flights heavenward.
6. Never did the Creator put a voice of such volume into so
small a living thing. It is a marvel--almost a miracle. In a still hour
you can hear it at nearly a mile's distance. When its form is lost in
the hazy lace work of the sun's rays above, it pours down upon
you all the thrilling semitones of its song as distinctly as if it were
warbling lo you in your window.
ii-ODiij a ssif-eritieK-t frWA- 3. Pfll'pi-tJLfc-iiig^, thr^bdifi.^, Jlftilsrin^.
"Wel^H, ponr^ Jlofi>s. (jy-rS-'E^ioTia, circttlar i>r spiral malioiis. 4. At-
imTu^iS, P.hfl.p'.'inidy, lltiU which is fiUfrfrf in a di&Ffinti.pcti^d waif uriff^
strQTif/ ^xciit*virni. Otii-i^r^'^tion^ ihe 7nass (ff lemf^it livhiff a.i one
petiOf^- &■ IV1«t'rie-aIj Qrra3r.fffid in meatures, as ptM^rif afld music.
Hnoftref^, th£ beam in tha ungle of a roo/^ hanc^ th& -ofl/" i£sdf.
DEFINITIONS.--I. Ec'sta-sy, overmastering joy. rapture. 2.
Ax'i-om, a self-evident truth. 3. Pal'pi-tal-ing, throbbing,
fluttering. Wells, pours, flows. Gy-ra'tions, circular or spiral
motions. 4. Af-fla'lus, breath, inspiration. Un'du-la-ting, rising
and falling like waves. Rhap'so-dy, that which is uttered in a
disconnected way under strong excitement. Gen-er-a'tion, the
mass of beings at one period. 5. Met'ric-al, arranged in
measures, as poetry and music. Roof 'tree, the beam in the angle
of a roof, hence the roof itself. Ham'let, a little cluster of houses.
FIFTH READER. 195
LXIL HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE.
William Collins (b, 1721, d, 1759) was born al Chichester,
England. He was educated at Winchester and Oxford. About 1745,
he went to London as a literary adventurer, and there won the
esteem of Dr. Johnson, His "Odes" were published in 1746, but
were not popular. He was subsequently relieved from pecuniary
embarrassment by a legacy of £2,000 from a maternal uncle; but
he soon became partially insane, and was for some time confined
in an asylum for lunatics. He afterwards retired to Chichester,
where he was cared for by his sister until his death.
I- How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blessed !
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold.
Returns to deck their hallowed mold,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
2. By fairy hands their knell is rung;
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
There honor comes a pilgrim gray.
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
LXIIL THE RAINBOW,
John Keble (b. 1792. d. 1866) was born near Fairfax,
Gloucestershire, England. He graduated al Oxford with
remarkably high honors, and afterwards was appointed to the
professorship of poetry in that university. Since his death, Keble
College, at Oxford, has been erected to his memory. In 1835, he
became vicar of Hursley and rector of Otterbourne, and held these
livings until his death. His most famous work is "The Christian
Year," a collection of sacred poems.
I. A fragment of a rainbow bright
Through the moist air I see.
All dark and damp on yonder height.
All bright and clear to me.
196 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. An hour ago the storm was here.
The gleam was far behind;
So will our joys and grief appear,
When earth has ceased to blind.
3. Grief will be joy if on its edge
Fall soft that holiest ray,
Joy will be grief if no faint pledge
Be there of heavenly day.
LXIV, SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHN ADAMS,
Daniel Webster(;?. 1782, d. 1852) was born in Salisbury, N.H,
He spent a few months of his boyhood at Phillips Academy,
Exeter, but fitted for college under Rev. Samuel Wood, of
Boscawen, N.H. He graduated from Dartmouth College in I80L
He taught school several terms, during and after his college
course. In 1805, he was admitted to the bar in Boston, and
practiced law in New Hampshire for the succeeding eleven years.
In 1812, he was elected to the United States House of
Representatives. In 1816, he removed to Boston, and in 1827 was
elected to the United Slates Senate, which position he held for
twelve years. In 1841, he was appointed Secretary of Stale. He
returned to the Senate in 1845, In 1850, he was reappointed
Secretary of Stale and continued in office until his death. He died
at his residence, in Marshfield, Mass. Mr. Webster's fame rests
chiefly on his state papers and speeches. As a speaker he was
dignified and stately, using clear, pure English. During all his life
he took great interest in agriculture, and was very fond of outdoor
sports.
I. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish, I give my hand
and my heart to this vote. It is true, indeed, that, in the beginning,
we aimed not at independence. But
"There's a divinity that shapes our ends."
The injustice of England has driven us to arms; and blinded to
her own interest, she has obstinately persisted, till independence is
now within our grasp. We have but to reach forth to it, and it is
ours. Why then should we
FIFTH READER. (97
defer the declaration? Is any man so weak as now to hope for a
reconciliation with England, which shall leave either safety to the
country and its liberties, or security to his own life and his own
honor! Are not you, sir, who sit in that chair, is not he, our
yenerable colleague, near you, are you not both already the
proscribed and predestined objects of punishment and of
vengeance? Cut off from all hope of royal clemency, what are
you, what can you be, while the power of England remains, but
outlaws?
2, If we postpone independence, do we mean to carry on, or to
give up, the war? Do we mean to submit, and consent that we shall
be ground to powder, and our country and its rights trodden down
in the dust? I know we do not mean to submit. We NEVER shall
sitbmitl Do we intend to violate that most solemn obligation ever
entered into by men, that plighting, before God, of our sacred
honor to Washington, when, putting him forth to incur the dangers
of war, as well as the political hazards of the limes, we promised
to adhere to him in every extremity with our fortunes and our
lives? 1 know there is not a man here, who would not rather see a
general conflagration sweep over the land, or an earthquake sink
it, than one jot or tittle of that plighted faith fall to the ground. For
myself, having twelve months ago, in this place, moved you that
George Washington be appointed commander of the forces raised,
or to be raised, for the defense of American liberty; may my right
hand forget her cunning, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my
mouth, if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him.
3. The war, then, must go on. We must fight it through. And if
the war must go on, why put off the Declaration of Independence?
That measure will strengthen us. It will give us character abroad.
Nations will then treat with us, which they never can do while we
acknowledge ourselves subjects in arms against our sovereign.
Nay, I maintain that England herself will sooner treat for peace
with us
198 ECLECTIC SERIES.
on the footing of independence, than consent, by repealing her
acts, to acknowledge that her whole conduct toward us has been a
course of injustice and oppression. Her pride will be less wounded
by submitting to thai course of things, which now predestinates
our independence, than by yielding the points in controversy to
her rebellious subjects. The former, she would regard as the result
of fortune; the latter, she would feel as her own deep disgrace.
Why, then, do we not change this from a civil to a national war?
And since we must fight it through, why not put ourselves in a
stale to enjoy all the benefits of victory, if we gain the victory.
4. If we fail, it can be no worse for us. But we shall not faiL
The cause will raise up armies; the cause will create navies. The
people--the people, if we are true to them, will carry us, and will
carry themselves, gloriously through this struggle. I care not how
fickle other people have been found. I know the people of these
colonies; and 1 know that resistance to British aggression is deep
and settled in their hearts, and can not be eradicated. Sir, the
Declaration of Independence will inspire the peqile with increased
courage. Instead of a long and bloody war for the restoration of
privileges, for redress of grievances, for chartered immunities,
held under a British king, set before them the glorious object of
entire independence, and it will breathe into them anew the spirit
of life,
5. Read this declaration at the head of the army; every sword
will be drawn, and the solemn vow uttered to maintain it, or perish
on the bed of honor. Publish it from the pulpit; religion will
approve it, and the love of religious liberty will cling around it,
resolved to stand with it or fall with it. Send it to the public halls;
proclaim it there; let them see it who saw their brothers and their
sons fall on the field of Bunker Hill and in the streets of Lexington
and Concord, and the very walls will cry out in its support.
FIFTH READER.
199
6. Sir, I know the uncertainly of human affairs, bul I see--I see
clearly through this day's business. You and I, indeed, may rue it.
We may not live to see the time this declaration shall be made
good. We may die; die colonists; die slaves: die, it may be,
ignominiously and on the scaffold. Be it so: be il so. If it be the
pleasure of Heaven that my country shall require the poor offering
of my life, the victim shall be ready at the appointed hour of
sacrifice, come when that hour may. But while I do live, let me
have a country, or at least the hope of a country, and that a FREE
country.
7. But whatever may be our fate, be assured— be assured that
this Declaration will stand. It may cost treasure, and it may cost
blood; but il will stand, and it will richly compensate for both.
Through the thick gloom of the present I see the brightness of the
future as the sun in heaven. We shall make this a glorious, an
immortal day. When we are in our graves, our children will honor
il. They will celebrate it with thanksgiving, with festivity, with
bonfires, and illuminations. On its annual return they will shed
tears, --copious, gushing tears; not of subjection and slavery, not of
agony and distress, but of exultation, of gratitude, and of joy.
8. Sir, before God I believe the hour is come. My judgment
approves the measure, and my whole heart is in il. All that 1 have,
and all that I am, and all that 1 hope in this life. I am now ready
here to slake upon il; and i leave off as I began, that, live or die,
survive or perish, 1 am for the Declaration. It is my living
sentiment, and, by the blessing of God. it shall by my dying
sentiment; independence now. and INDEPENDENCE FOREVER.
t^EFiNTTiONS.^ 1, Bee-OD-H^l-i^'tLoa, r€n€W<zJ of Jrkrr>^Mip,
CSl'lea^Tie (pro^ kol'legjj an fiAS£iciat£ tVi sorHii cii<ii o^ce. Pto-
acTil>ed^ dimmed ii^ deslntction, pu£ oiif lyf th^. proteciifiJi f}ffke law.
I'reHi^'* Lined, d^crtsd iK/Qtehand^ Cleju'eu-^y, mercj^, ttuluii^eitcji.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1 . Rec-on-cil-i-a'tion, renewal of friendship.
Col'league (pro. kol'leg), an associate in some civil office. Pro-
scribed', doomed to destruction, put out of the protection of the law.
PrG-dQs'linGd., decreed beforehand. Clenn'en-cy, mercy, indulgence.
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
&- Tlt^tln, -T small pftriicle.^ a J^. 3. Coii'lro-vBr-ayh di^iu£^ ds-
btste. 4. K-rM'i-eitCi:!. rrW^^ o^. Itedr^Ha', rffl^trrirfWi*:e from
tTi ipriiiii*;? Jlv,>m a ifccn^ cr oiitcr pTVper at<M(/rify. Jiri'Siiii'iiUtv,
Notes. --Mr. Webster, in a speech upon the life and character of
John Adams, imagines some one opposed to the Declaration of
independence to have stated his fears and objections before
Congress while deliberating on that subject. He then supposes Mr.
Adams to have replied in the language above.
1. The quotation is from "Hamlet," Act V, Scene 2.
You, sir, who sit in that chair. This was addressed to John
Hancock, president of the Continental Congress. Our venerable
colleague refers to Samuel Adams. After the battles of Concord
and Lexington, Governor Gage offered pardon to all the rebels
who would lay down their arms, excepting Samuel Adams and
John Hancock.
LXV. THE RISING.
Thomas Buchanan Read [b. 1822, d. 1872) was born in
Chester County. Pennsylvania. In 1839 he entered a sculptor's
studio in Cincinnati, where he gained reputation as a portrait
painter. He afterwards went to New York. Boston, and
Philadelphia, and, in 1850, to Italy. He divided his time between
Cincinnati, Philadelphia, and Rome, in the latter years of his life.
Some or his poems are marked by vigor and strength, while others
are distinguished by smoothness and delicacy. The following
selection is abridged from "The Wagoner of the Alleghanies."
2, Tit'tle, a small particle, a jot, 3, Con'tro-ver-sy, dispute, debate. 4.
E-rad'i-cat-ed, rooted out. re-dress', deliverance from wrong, injury,
or oppression. Char'tered, secured by an instrument in writing from a
king or other authority . Im-mu'ni-ty^ freedom from any duly, tax,
imposition, etc. 7. Com'pen-sate, make amends for.
1. Out of the North the wild news came.
Far flashing on its wings of flame,
Swift as the boreal light which flies
At midnight through the startled skies.
2. And there was tumult in the air.
The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat.
And through the wide land everywhere
The answering tread of hurrying feet,
FIFTH READER. 201
While the first oalh of Freedom's gun
Came on the blast from Lexington.
And Concord, roused, no longer tame.
Forgot her old baptismal name,
Made bare her patriot arm of power,
And swelled the discord of the hour.
3. The yeoman and the yoeman's son,
With knitted brows and sturdy dint.
Renewed the polish of each gun,
Recoiled the lock, reset the flint;
And oft the maid and matron there.
While kneeling in the firelight glare.
Long poured, with half-suspended breath,
The lead into the molds of death.
4. The hands by Heaven made silken soft
To soothe the brow of love or pain,
Alas! are dulled and soiled loo oft
By some unhallowed earthly stain;
But under the celestial bound
No nobler picture can be found
Than woman, brave in word and deed.
Thus serving in her nation's need:
Her love is with her country now.
Her hand is on its aching brow.
5. Within its shade of elm and oak
The church of Berkley Manor stood:
There Sunday found the rural folk.
And some esteemed of gentle blood.
In vain their feet with loitering tread
Passed 'mid the graves where rank is naught:
All could not read the lesson taught
In that republic of the dead.
202 ECLECTIC SERIES.
6. The pastor rose: the prayer was strong;
The psalm was warrior David's song;
The lexl, a few short words of might,--
"The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!"
7. He spoke of wrongs loo long endured.
Of sacred rights to be secured;
Then from his patriot tongue of flame
The startling words for Freedom came.
The stirring sentences he spake
Compelled the heart to glow or quake.
And, rising on his theme's broad wing.
And grasping in his nervous hand
The imaginary bailie brand,
In face of death he dared to fling
Defiance to a lyranl king.
8. Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
In eloquence of altitude,
Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher;
Then swept his kindling glance of fire
From slartled pew lo breathless choir;
When suddenly his mantle wide
His hands impatient flung aside.
And, io! he met their wondering eyes
Complete in all a warrior's guise.
9. A moment there was awful pause, --
When Berkley cried, "Cease, Irailor! cease!
God's temple is the house of peace!"
The other shouted, "Nay, not so.
When God is with our righleous cause:
His holiest places then are ours,
His temples are our forts and lowers
That frown upon the tyrant foe:
In this the dawn of Freedom's day
There is a time to fight and pray!"
FIFTH READER
203
10. And now before the open door—
The warrior priest liad ordered so--
The enlisting trumpet's sudden soar
Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er,
lis long reverberating blow,
So loud and clear, it seemed the ear
Of dusty death must wake and hear.
And there the startling drum and fife
Fired the living with fiercer life;
While overhead with wild increase,
Forgetting its ancient toll of peace,
The great bel! swung as ne'er before:
It seemed as it would never cease;
And every word its ardor flung
From off its jubilant iron tongue
Was, "WAR! WAR! WAR!"
1 1. "Who dares"--lhis was the patriot's cry.
As striding from the desk he came--
"Come out with me. in Freedom's name.
For her to live, for her to die?"
A hundred hands flung up reply.
A hundred voices answered "I!"
NOTES. --2. Forgot her ... name. The reference is to the
meaning of the word "concord," --harmony, union.
4. Celestial bound: i.e., the sky, heaven.
6, The pastor. This was John Peter Gabriel Muhlenberg, who
was at this time a minister at Woodstock, in Virginia. He was a
leading spirit among those opposed to Great Britain, and in 1775
he was elected colonel of a Virginia regiment. The above
DEFINITIONS. -1. Bo're-al, northern. 3. Yeoman, a
freeholder, a man freeborn. Dint, stroke. 5. Man'or, a tract of
land occupied by tenants. Gen'tle (pro. jen'll), well born, of
good family. 1 . Theme, a subject on which a person speaks
or writes. 8. Guise, external appearance in manner or dress.
10. Soar, a towering flight.
204 ECLECTIC SERIES.
poem describes his farewell sermon. Al its close he threw off his
ministerial gown, and appeared in full regimental dress. Almost
every man in the congregation enlisted under him at the church
door. Muhlenberg became a well-known general in the
Revolution, and after the war served his country in Congress and
in various official positions.
LXVI. CONTROL YOUR TEMPER,
John Todd, D.D, (b. 1800, d. 1873), was born in Rutland, Vt.
In 1842 he was settled as a pastor of a Congregational Church, in
Pittsfield, Mass, In 1834, he published "Lectures to Children": in
1835, "The Student's Manual," a valuable and popular work,
which has been translated into several European languages; in
1836, "The Sabbath-School Teacher"; and in 1841, "The Lost
Sister of Wyoming." He was one of the founders of the Mount
Holyoke Female Seminary.
1. No one has a temper naturally so good, that it does not need
attention and cultivation, and no one has a temper so bad, but that,
by proper culture, it may become pleasant. One of the best
disciplined tempers ever seen, was that of a gentleman who was
naturally quick, irritable, rash, and violent; but, by having the care
of the sick, and especially of deranged people, he so completely
mastered himself that he was never known to be thrown off his
guard.
2. The difference in the happiness which is received or
bestowed by the man who governs his temper, and that by the man
who does not, is immense. There is no misery so constant, so
distressing, and so intolerable to others, as that of having a
disposition which is your master, and which is continually fretting
itself. There are corners enough, at every turn in life, against
which we may run, and at which we may break out in impatience,
if we choose.
3. Look at Roger Sherman, who rose from a humble occupation
to a seal in the first Congress of the United Stales, and whose
judgment was received with great deference
FIFTH READER. 205
by that body of distinguished men. He made himself master of his
temper, and cultivated it as a great business in life. There are one
or two instances which show this part of his character in a light
that is beautiful.
4. One day, after having received his highest honors, he was
sitting and reading in his parlor, A roguish student, in a room close
by, held a looking-glass in such a position as to pour the reflected
rays of the sun directly in Mr. Sherman's face. He moved his chair,
and the thing was repealed. A third time the chair was moved, but
the looking-glass still reflected the sun in his eyes. He laid aside
his book, went to the window, and many witnesses of the
impudence expected to hear the ungentlemanly student severely
reprimanded. He raised the window gently, and lhen--shut the
window blind!
5. I can not forbear adducing another instance of the power he
had acquired over himself. He was naturally possessed of strong
passions; but over these he at length obtained an extraordinary
control. He became habitually calm, sedate, and self-possessed.
Mr. Sherman was one of those men who are not ashamed to
maintain the forms of religion in their families. One morning he
called them all together, as usual, to lead them in prayer to God;
the "old family Bible" was brought out, and laid on the table.
6. Mr. Sherman took his seal, and placed beside him one of his
children, a child of his old age; the rest of the family were seated
around the room; several of these were now grown up. Besides
these, some of the tutors of the college were boarders in the
family, and were present at the time alluded to. His aged and
superannuated mother occupied a corner of the room, opposite the
place where the distinguished judge sal.
7. At length, he opened the Bible, and began to read. The child
who was sealed beside him made some little disturbance, upon
which Mr. Sherman paused and told it to be still. Again he
proceeded; but again he paused to
206
ECLECTIC SERIES.
reprimand the little offender, whose playful disposition would
scarcely permit it to be sliJl. And this time he gently tapped its ear.
The blow, if blow it might be called, caught the attention of his
aged mother, who now, with some effort, rose from the seat, and
tottered across the room. At length she reached the chair of Mr,
Shemian. and, in a moment, most unexpectedly to him, she gave
him a blow on the ear with all the force she could summon.
"There," said she, "you strike your child, and I will strike mine."
8. For a moment, the blood was seen mounting to the face of
Mr. Sherman; but it was only for a moment, when all was calm
and mild as usual. He paused: he raised his spectacles: he cast his
eye upon his mother; again it fell upon the book from which he
had been reading. Not a word escaped him; but again he calmly
pursued the service, and soon after sought in prayer an ability to
set an example before his household which would be worthy of
their imitation. Such a victory was worth more than the proudest
one ever achieved on the field of battle.
Djit'iNitJUNS. — 1. Coii-tri>l', suMu^j ye^train^ ^l-^^. Cul'tmi^
/ct*^f. 0. Sfi-per-nn'mi-ir-tedj impairjid 5j oJtf i{ff& aud injrmif^
a. A-chievfid'j ffatn&t.
NOTE. -Roger Sherman {b. 1721, d. 1793) was born at Newton
Massachusetts, and until twenty-two years of age was a
shoemaker. He then removed to New Milford, Connecticut, and
was soon afterward appointed surveyor of lands for the county. In
1754, he was admitted to the bar. At various times he was elected
ajudge; sent to the Legislature, to the Colonial Assembly, and to
the United States Congress; made a member of the governor's
council of safety; and, in 1776, a member of the committee
appointed to draft the Declaration of Independence, of which he
was one of the signers.
DEFINITIONS. -1. Con-XroW subdue, restrain, govern.
Cul'ture, cultivation, improvement by effort. Dis'ci-plined,
brought under control, trained. 2. In-tol'er-a-ble, not
capable of being borne. 3. Def 'er-ence, regard, respect 4.
Rep'ri-mand-ed, reproved for a fault. 6. Su-per-an'nu-a-ted,
impaired by old age and infirmity. 8, A-chieved', gained.
FIFTH READER. 207
LXVIL WILLIAM TELL.
James Sheridan Knowles (b. 1784, d, 1862), a dramatist and
actor, was born in Cork, Ireland. In 1792 his father removed to
London with his family- At the age of fourteen, Sheridan wrote an
opera called "The Chevalier de Grillon." In 1798 he removed to
Dublin, and soon after began his career as an actor and author. In
1835 he visited America. In 1839 an annual pension of £200 was
granted him by the British government. Several years before his
death he left the stage and became a Baptist minister. The best
known of his plays are "Caius Gracchus," "Virginius," "Leo, the
Gypsy," "The Hunchback," and "William Tell," from the last of
which the following two lessons are abridged.
SCENE \.--A Chamber in the Castle. Enter Gesler, Officers,
and Sarnem, with Tell in chains and guarded.
Sar. Down, slave! Behold the governor,
Down! down! and beg for mercy.
Ges. (Seated.) Does he hear?
Sar. He does, but braves thy power.
Officer, Why don't you smite him for that look?
Ges. Can I believe
My eyes? He smiles! Nay, grasps
His chains as he would make a weapon of them
To lay the smiter dead, (To Tell.)
Why speakest thou not?
Tell. For wonder-
Ges. Wonder?
TelL Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man.
Ges. What should I seem?
TelL A monster.
Ges. Ha! Beware! Think on thy chains.
TelL Though they were doubled, and did weigh me down
Prostrate to the earth, methinks I could rise up
Erect, with nothing but the honest pride
Of telling thee, usurper, to thy teeth.
Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains?
How came they on me?
208 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Ges. Darest thou question me?
TelL Darest thou not answer?
Ges. Do I hear?
Tell. Thou dost.
Ges. Beware my vengeance!
TelL Can it more than kill?
Ges. Enough; it can do that.
TelL No; not enough:
It can not lake away the grace of life;
Its comeliness of look that virtue gives;
Its port erect with consciousness of truth;
Its rich attire of honorable deeds;
Its fair report that's rife on good men's tongues;
It can not lay its hands on these, no more
Than it can pluck the brightness from the sun,
Or with polluted finger tarnish it.
Ges. But it can make thee writhe.
TelL It may.
Ges. And groan.
TelL It may; and I may cry
Go on, though it should make me groan again.
Ges. Whence comest thou?
TelL From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn
What news from thence?
Ges. Canst tell me any?
TelL Ay: they watch no more the avalanche.
Ges. Why so?
Tell. Because they look for thee. The hurricane
Comes unawares upon them; from its bed
The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track.
Ges. What do they then?
TelL Thank heaven it is not thou!
Thou hast perverted nature in them.
There's not a blessing heaven vouchsafes them, but
The thought of thee--doth wither to a curse.
Ges. That's right! I'd have them like their hills,
FIFTH RFADFR. 209
That never smile, though wanton summer tempt
Them e'er so much.
TelL But they do sometimes smile,
Ges. Ay! when is thai?
TelL When they do talk of vengeance.
Ges. Vengeance? Dare they talk of that?
TelL Ay, and expect it too.
Ges. From whence?
TelL From heaven!
Ges, From heaven?
TelL And their true hands
Are lifted up to it on every hill
For justice on thee.
Ges. Where's ihv abode?
TelL I told thee, on the mountains.
Ges. Art married?
TelL Yes.
Ges. And hast a family?
TelL A son.
Ges. A son? Sarnem!
Sar. My lord, the boy— (Gesler signs to Sarnem to keep
silence, and, whispering, sends him off.)
TelL Theboy? What boy?
Is 't mine? and have they netted my young fledgeling?
Now heaven support me, if they have! He'll own me.
And share his father's ruin! But a look
Would put him on his guard--yet how to give it!
Now heart, thy nerve; forget thou 'rt flesh, be rock.
They come, they come!
That step--that step--that little step, so light
Upon the ground, how heavy does it fall
Upon my heart! I feel my child! (Enter Sarnem
with Albert, whose eyes are riveted on Tell's bow,
which Sarnem carries.)
'T is he! We can but perish.
210 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Alb, (Aside.) Yes; 1 was right- It is my father's bow!
For there's my father! Til not own him though!
Sar. See!
Alb. What?
Sar. Look there!
Alb, I do, what would you have me see?
Sar. Thy father.
Alk Who? That-that my father?
TelL My boy! my boy! my own brave boy!
He's safe! (Aside.)
Sar. (Aside to Gesler.) They're like each other.
G^5. Yet I see no sign
Of recognition to betray the link
Unites a father and his child,
Sar. My lord,
I am sure it is his father. Look at them.
That boy did spring from him; or never cast
Came from the mold it fitted! It may be
A preconcerted thing 'gainst such a chance.
That they survey each other coldly thus.
Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff.
Sar. To a dungeon?
Ges. No; into the court.
Sar. The court, my lord?
Ges. And send
To tell the headsman to make ready. Quick!
The slave shall die! You marked the boy?
Sar. I did. He started; 't is his father.
Ges. We shall see. Away with him!
Tell Stop! Stop!
Ges. What would you?
TelL Time,--
A little time to call my thoughts together!
Ges. Thou shalt not have a minute.
TelL Some one, then, to speak with.
Ges. Hence with him!
FIFTH READER. 21!
TelL A moment! Stop!
Let me speak to the boy.
Ges. Is he thy son?
TelL And if
He were, art ihou so lost to nature, as
To send me forth to die before his face?
Ges. Well! speak with him.
Now, Sarnem, mark them well.
TelL Thou dosl not know me, boy; and well for thee
Thou dost not. I'm the father of a son
About thy age. Thou,
I see, wast horn, like him, upon the hills:
If thou shouldsl 'scape thy present thraldom, he
May chance to cross thee; if he should, 1 pray thee
Relate to him what has been passing here.
And say 1 laid my hand upon thy head.
And said to thee, if he were here, as thou art.
Thus would I bless him. Mayst thou live, my boy.
To see thy country free, or die for her.
As 1 do! {Albert weeps.)
Sar. Mark! he weeps.
TelL Were he my son.
He would not shed a tear! He would remember
The cliff where he was bred, and learned to scan
A thousand fathoms' depth of nether air;
Where he was trained to hear the thunder talk,
And meet the lightning, eye to eye; where last
We spoke together, when 1 told him death
Bestowed the brightest gem that graces life.
Embraced for virtue's sake. He shed a tear!
Now were he by, I'd talk to him, and his cheek
Should never blanch, nor moisture dim his eye--
rd talk to him--
Sar. He falters!
TelL 'T is too much!
And yet it must be done! I'd talk to him--
212 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Ges. Of what?
TelL The mother, tyrant, thou dost make
A widow of! I'd talk to him of her.
rd bid him tell her, next to liberty.
Her name was the last word my lips pronounced.
And I would charge him never to forget
To love and cherish her, as he would have
His father's dying blessing rest upon him!
Sar. You see, as he doth prompt, the other acts.
TelL So well he bears it, he doth vanquish me.
My boy! my boy! Oh, for the hills, the hills.
To see him bound along their tops again.
With liberty-
Sar. Was there not an the father in (hat look?
Ges. Yet 't is 'gainst nature.
Sar. Not if he believes
To own the son would be to make him share
The father's death.
Ges. I did not think of that! 'T is well
The boy is not thy son. I've destined him
To die along with thee.
Tell To die? For what?
Ges. For having braved my power, as thou hast. Lead
them forth-
Tell. He's but a child.
Ges. Away with them!
Tell. Perhaps an only child,
Ges. No matter.
Tell. He may have a mother.
Ges. So the viper hath;
And yet, who spares it for the mother's sake?
Tell. I talk to stone! I talk to it as though
T were flesh; and know 't is none. Til talk to it
No more. Come, my boy;
I taught thee how to live, I'll show thee how to die.
Ges. He is thy child?
FIFTH READER. 213
TelL He is my child- (Weeps.)
Ges. I've wrung a tear from him! Thy name?
TelL My name?
It matters not to keep it from thee now;
My name is TelL
Ges. Tell-^ William Tell?
TelL The same.
Ges. What! he, so famed 'bove all his countrymen,
For guiding o'er the stormy lake the boat?
And such a master of his bow, 'l is said
His arrows never miss! Indeed! I'll lake
Exquisite vengeance! Mark! I'll spare thy life;
Thy boy's loo; both of you are free; on one
Condition,
TelL Name it.
Ges. I would see you make
A trial of your skill with that same bow
You shoot so well with.
TelL Name the trial you
Would have me make.
Ges. You look upon your boy
As though instinctively you guessed it.
TelL Look upon my boy? What mean you? Look upon
My boy as though I guessed it? Guessed the trial
You'd have me make? Guessed it
Instinctively? You do not mean--no--no,
You would not have me make a trial of
My skill upon my child! Impossible!
I do not guess your meaning,
Ges. I would see
Thee hit an apple at the distance of
A hundred paces.
TelL Is my boy to hold it?
Ges. No. '
TelL No? ril send the arrow through the core!
Ges. It is to rest upon his head.
214 ECLECTIC SERIES.
TelL Great heaven, you hear him!
Ges. Thou dosl hear the choice I give:
Such trial of the skill thou art master of,
Or death to both of you, not otherwise
To be escaped.
TelL O, monster!
Ges. Wilt thou do it?
Alb, He will! he will!
TelL Ferocious monster! Make
A father murder his own child!
Ges. Take off his chains if he consent.
TelL With his own hand!
Ges. Does he consent?
Alb. He does. (Gesler signs to his ojficers, who proceed to take
offTeU's chains; Tell unconscious what they do.)
TelL With his own hand!
Murder his child with his own hand? This hand?
The hand I've led him, when an infant, by?
T is beyond horror! T is most horrible!
Amazement! (His chains fall ojf.) What's that you've
done to me?
Villains! put on my chains again. My hands
Are free from blood, and have no gust for it,
That they should drink my child's! Here! here! I'll
Not murder my boy for Gesler.
Alb, Father! Father!
You will not hit me, father!
TelL Hit thee? Send
The arrow through ihy brain? Or, missing that.
Shoot out an eye? Or, if ihine eye escape.
Mangle the cheek I've seen ihy mother's lips
Cover with kisses? Hit thee? Hit a hair
Of ihee, and cleave thy mother's heart?
Ges. Dost ihou consent?
TelL Give me my bow and quiver.
Ges. For what?
FIFTH READER.
215
TelL To shool my boy!
Alb. No, father, no!
To save me! You'll be sure to hit the apple.
Will you not save me, father?
TelL Lead me forth;
I'll make the trial!
Alb. Thank you!
Tell Thank me? Do
You know for what? I wil! not make the trial.
To lake him to his mother in my arms!
And lay him down a corse before her!
Ges. Then he dies this moment, and you certainly
Do murder him whose life you have a chance
To save, and will not use it.
Tell WelL Ml do it: I'll make the trial.
Alb. Father!
Tell Speak not to me:
Let me not hear thy voice: thou musi be dumb.
And so should all things be. Earth should be dumb;
And heaven--unless its thunders muttered at
The deed, and sent a boll to stop! Give me
My bow and quiver!
Ges. When all's ready.
Tell Readvl-
■J
I must be calm with such a mark to hit!
Don't louch me, child!--Don't speak to me!--Lead on!
Port, iv^ti.'fier ^f mo\?t}i\£^ ar wd^t. AJrtiri^', {Jy^a, c!oih^^- 'J'er'-
yii^h± t& soil. U.i m^i^- Av^a-laa^bp, « vmf bod^ qf sjiow. earth, atiti
saeredSj pttris, WQin''to% Itixuriani. Net'ted, c&u^ht iri a nei^
ijriaiiituncGr Pre-Goc-^W-'ei, piatiii^d bsfiffehijifiiit Usv'tiff (pro,
cmtaiTK cio^dff' N^iii'flr, ifwv, lyuij b^Jtev4h, Blftufthp to Jiir»
DEFINITIONS. --Come'li-ness, that nhich is becoming or
graceful. Port, manner of movement or walk . At-tire', dress,
clothes. Tar'-nish. W soil, to sitlly . Av'a-lanche, a vast body of
snow, earth, and ice, sliding down from a mountain . Vouch-
safes', y/^W^, condescends, gives. Wan'ton, luxuriant. Net'ted.
caught in a net. Fledge'ling, a young bird. Rec-og-ni'lion,
acknowledgment of acquaintance. Pre-con-cert'ed, planned
beforehand. C<iVuff {pro. ka'tif), a mean villain. Thral'dom,
bondage, slavery. Scan, to examine closely. Nelh'er, lower,
lying beneath. Blanch, to turn white. Gust, taste, relish.
216 ECLECTIC SERIES.
NOTE .--William Tell is a legendary hero of Switzerland- The
events of this drama are represented as occurring in 1307 A.D.,
when Austria held Switzerland under her control. Gesler, also a
purely mythical personage, is one of the Austrian bailiffs. The
legend relates that Gesler had his cap placed on a pole in the
market place, and all the Swiss were required to salute it in
passing in recognition of his authority. Tell refusing to do this was
arrested, and condemned to death. This and the following lesson
narrate how the sentence was changed, and the result.
LXVHL WILLIAM TELL, (Concluded.)
SCENE 2. --Enter slowly, people in evident distress--Offtcers,
Sarneni, Gesler, Tell, Albert, and soldiers--one bearing Tell' s bow
and quiver--another with a basket of apples.
Ges. That is your ground. Now shall they measure thence
A hundred paces. Take the distance.
TelL Is the line a true one?
Ges. True or not, what is 't to thee?
Tell What is 't to me? A little thing,
A very little thing; a yard or two
Is nothing here or there— were it a wolf
I shot at! Never mind.
Ges. Be thankful, slave.
Our grace accords thee life on any terms.
TelL I will be thankful, Gesler! Villain, stop!
You measure to the sun.
Ges. And what of that?
What matter whether to or from the sun?
TelL I'd have it at my back. The sun should shine
Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots.
FIFTH READER. 217
I can not see to shoot against the sun:
I will not shoot against the sun!
Ges. Give him his way! Thou hast cause to bless my mercy.
TelL I shall remember it. I'd like to see
The apple I'm to shoot at,
Ges. Slay! show me the basket! there!
TelL You've picked the smallest one.
Ges. I know I have,
TelL Oh, do you? But you see
The color of it is dark: I'd have it light.
To see it better.
Ges. Take it as it is;
Thy skill will be the greater if thou hitl'st it,
TelL True! true! I did not think of that; I wonder
I did not think of that. Give me some chance
To save my boy!--
I will not murder him,
If I can help it— for the honor of
The form thou wearest, if all the heart is gone.
(Throws away the apple with all his force.)
Ges. Well: choose thyself.
TelL Have I a friend among the lookers-on?
Verner. (Rushing forward.) Here, Tell.
TelL I thank thee, Verner!
He is a friend runs out into a storm
To shake a hand with us. I must be brief.
When once the bow is bent, we can not lake
The shot loo soon. Verner, whatever be
The issue of this hour, the common cause
Must not stand still. Let not to-morrow's sun
Set on the tyrant's banner! Verner! Verner!
The boy! the boy! Thinkest thou he hath the courage
To stand it?
Yen Yes.
2i8 ECLECTIC SERIES.
TelL Does he tremble?
Vet\ No.
Tell Art sure?
Ver. I am.
TelL How looks he?
Ver. Clear and smilingly.
If you doubt it, look yourself.
TelL No, no, my friend:
To hear it is enough.
Ver, He bears himself so much above his years--
TelL i know! I know!
Ver. With constancy so modest--
TelL I was sure he would--
Ver. And looks with such relying love
And reverence upon you--
TelL Man! Man! Man!
No more! Already I'm loo much the father
To act the man! Verner, no more, my friend!
1 would be flint--flint--flint- Don't make me feel
Tm nol--do not mind me! Take the boy
And set him, Verner, with his back to me.
Set him upon his knees, and place this apple
Upon his head, so thai the stem may front me.
Thus, Verner; charge him to keep steady; tell him
I'll hit the apple! Verner, do all this
More briefly than I tell it thee.
Ver. Come, Albert! {Leading him out.)
Alb. May I not speak with him before I go?
Ver. No.
Alb, I would only kiss his hand,
Ver. You must not.
Alb. I must; I can not go from him without.
Ver. ll is his will you should.
Alb. His will, is it?
I am content, then; come.
TelL My boy! {Holding out his arms to him.)
FIFTH READER. 219
Alb, My father! (Rushing into Tell's arms.)
TelL If ihou cansl bear it, should not I? Go now,
My son; and keep in mind that I can shoot;
Go, boy; be ihou but steady, I will hit
The apple. Go! God bless thee; go. My bow!
{The bow is handed to him.)
Thou wilt not fail thy master, wilt thou? Thou
Hast never failed him yet, old servant. No,
Tm sure of thee. I know thy honesty,
Thou art stanch, stanch. Let me see my quiver.
Ges. Give him a single arrow.
TelL Do you shoot?
Soldier. I do,
TelL Is it so you pick an arrow, friend?
The point, you see, is bent; the feather, jagged.
That's all the use 't is fit for. (Breaks it.)
Ges. Let him have another.
TelL Why, 't is better than the first,
But yet not good enough for such an aim
As I'm to take. T is heavy in the shaft;
ril not shoot with it! (Throws it away,) Let
me see my quiver.
Bring it! T is not one arrow in a dozen
Td lake to shoot with at a dove, much less
A dove like that,
Ges. It matters not.
Show him the quiver.
TelL See if the boy is ready,
(Tell here hides an arrow under his vest.)
Ver. He is.
TelL I 'm ready loo! Keep silent, for
Heaven's sake, and do not stir; and let me have
Your prayers, your prayers, and be my witnesses
That if his life's in peril from my hand,
Tis only for the chance of saving it. (To the people.)
Ges. Go on.
220
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Tell. I will.
O friends, for mercy's sake keep motionless
and silent. (Tell shoots, A shout of exultation
bursts from the crowd. Tell's head drops on his
bosom; he with difficulty supports himself on his bow,)
Ver. (Rushing in with Albert.) The boy is safe, no
hair of him is touched.
Alb. Father, I'm safe. Your Albert's safe, dear father.
Speak to me! Speak to me!
Ver. He can not, boy!
Alb. You grant him life?
Ges. I do-
Alb. And we are free?
Ges. You are. {Crossing angrily behind.)
Alb. Open his vest.
And give him air. (Albert opens his father's vest,
and the arrow drops. Tell starts, fixes his eyes
on Albert and clasps him to his breast. )
Tell My boy! My boy!
Ges. For what
Hid you that arrow in your breast? Speak, slave!
TelL To kill thee, tyrant, had 1 slain my boy!
BimsamoNS.^ A.c-e§rd^j ^rij^u^ ifMCf^^M- T^'F-npi (^o. feV\*),
fijfT'f/, ^'t^^^^it^ictf-* ytaiich. sorf^il^ sti-on^^ Jug'^A. noti^liei^ ^a^^e^-
Sh^fJ]^ the slet^ of on arrofD Ji-^n wr/iK-i i^^ Ji^ai^i£r ai^d h^cd {^
iTtxeried. Q^lv'er, a i-YiSfi_/br arrows,
NOTE.— The legend further relates that on the discovery of the
concealed arrow Tell was again put in chains. Gesler then
embarked for another place, taking Tell with him. A storm
overtook them, and Tell was released to steer the boat. In passing
a certain point of land now known as "Tell's Rock" or "Leap," Tell
leaped ashore and escaped: then going to a point where he knew
the boat must land, he lay concealed until it arrived, when he shot
Gesler through the heart.
DEFINITIONS. --Ac -cords', grants, concede. Is'sue
(pro. ish'u), event, consequence. Stanch, sound,
strong. Jag'ged, notched, uneven. Shaft, the stem of an
arrow upon which the feather and head are inserted.
Quiv'er, a case for arrows.
FIFTH READER. 221
LXIX. THE CRAZY ENGINEER,
L My train Jefl Dantzic in the morning generally about eight
o'clock; but once a week we had to wait for the arrival of the
steamer from Stockholm. It was the morning of the steamer's
arrival that I came down from the hotel, and found that my
engineer had been so seriously injured that he could not perform
his work, I went immediately to the engine house to procure
another engineer, for I supposed there were three or four in reserve
there, but I was disappointed.
2, I heard the puffing of the steamer, and the passengers would
be on hand in fifteen minutes, I ran to the guards and asked them
if they knew where there was an engineer, but they did not. I then
went to the firemen and asked them if anvone of them felt
competent to run the engine to Bromberg. No one dared to attempt
it. The distance was nearly one hundred miles. What was to be
done?
3. The steamer stopped at the wharf, and those who were going
on by rail came flocking to the station. They had eaten breakfast
on board the boat, and were all ready for a fresh start. The train
was in readiness in the long station house, and the engine was
steaming and puffing away impatiently in the distant firing house.
4, It was past nine o'clock. "Come, why don't we start?"
growled an old, fat Swede, who had been watching me narrowly
for the last fifteen minutes. And upon this there was a general
chorus of anxious inquiry, which soon settled to downright
murmuring. At ihisjuncture some one touched me on the elbow. I
turned, and saw a stranger by my side. I thought that he was going
to remonstrate with me for my backwardness. In fact, I began to
have strong temptations to pull off my uniform, for every anxious
eye was fixed upon the glaring badges which marked me as the
chief officer of the train.
5. However, this stranger was a middle-aged man, tall
222
ECLECTIC SERIES.
and stout, with a face of great energy and intelligence. His eye was
black and brilliant, --so brilliant that I could not gaze steadily into
it, though I tried; and his lips, which were very thin, seemed more
like polished marble than human flesh. His dress was black
throughout, and not only set with exact nicely, but was
scrupulously clean and neat.
6- "You want an engineer, I understand," he said in a low,
cautious tone, at the same lime gazing quietly about him, as
though he wanted no one to hear what he said.
"I do," I replied. "My train is all ready, and we have no
engineer within twenty miles of this place/'
"Well, sir, I am going to Bromberg; I must go, and I will run
the engine for you."
"Ha!" I uttered, "are you an engineer?"
"I am, sir— one of the oldest in the country--and am now on my
way to make arrangements for a great improvement I have
invented for the application of steam to a locomotive. My name is
Martin Kroller. If you wish. I will run as far as Bromberg; and I
will show you running that is running."
FIFTH READER. 223
7, Was I not fortunate? I determined to accept the man's offer at
once, and so I told him. He received my answer with a nod and a
smile. I went with him to the house, where we found the engine in
charge of the fireman, and all ready for a start. Kroller got upon
the platform, and I followed him. I had never seen a man betray
such a peculiar aptness amid machinery as he did. He let on the
steam in an instant, but yet with care and judgment, and he backed
up to the baggage carriage with the most exact nicety.
8, I had seen enough to assure me that he was thoroughly
acquainted with the business, and I felt composed once more. I
gave my engine up to the new man, and then hastened away to the
office. Word was passed for all the passengers to take their seats,
and soon afterward I waved my hand to the engineer. There was a
puff, a groaning of the heavy axletrees, a trembling of the
building, and the train was in motion, I leaped upon the platform
of the guard carriage, and in a few minutes more the station house
was far behind us,
9. In less than an hour we reached Dirschau, where we took up
the passengers, that had come on the Konigsberg railway. Here I
went forward and asked Kroller how he liked the engine. He
replied that he liked it very much.
"But," he added, with a strange sparkling of the eye, "wait until
I get my improvement, and then you will see traveling. Why, I
could run an engine of my construction to the moon in four and
twenty hours?"
10. I smiled at what I thought his enthusiasm, and then went
back to my station. As soon as the Konigsberg passengers were all
on board, and their baggage carriage attached, we started on again.
Soon after, I went into the guard carriage and sat down. An early
train from Konigsberg had been through two hours before, and
was awaiting us at Little Oscue, where we took on board the
Western mail.
224 ECLECTIC SERIES.
IL "How we go," uttered one of the guards, some fifteen
minutes after we had left Dirschau.
"The new engineer is trying the speed," I replied, not yet having
any fear. But ere long 1 began to apprehend he was running a little
loo fast. The carriages began to sway to and fro, and 1 could hear
exclamations of fright from the passengers,
"Good heavens!" cried one of the guards, coming in at that
moment, "what is that fellow doing? Look, sir, and see how we are
going,"
12. I looked at the window, and found that we were dashing
along at a speed never before traveled on that road. Posts, fences,
rocks, and trees flew by in one undistinguished mass, and the
carriages now swayed fearfully. I started to my feet, and met a
passenger on the platform. He was one of the chief owners of our
road, and was just on his way to Berlin. He was pale and excited.
13. "Sir," he gasped, "is Martin Kroller on the engine?"
"Yes," I told him.
"What! didn't you know him?"
"Know?" I repeated, somewhat puzzled; "what do you mean?
He told me his name was Kroller, and that he was an engineer. We
had no one to run the engine, and--"
"You took him!" interrupted the man, "Good heavens, sir, he is
as crazy as a man can be! He turned his brain over a new plan for
applying steam power. I saw him at the station, but did not fully
recognize him, as I was in a hurry. Just now one of your
passengers told me that your engineers were all gone this morning,
and that you found one that was a stranger to you. Then I knew the
man whom I had seen was Martin Kroller, He had escaped from
the hospital at Stettin. You must get him off somehow."
14. The whole fearful truth was now open to me. The speed of
the train was increasing every moment, and I knew that a few
more miles per hour would launch us all into destruction. I called
to the guard and then made my
FIFTH READER. 225
way forward as quickly as possible. 1 reached the back platform of
the tender, and there stood Kroller upon the engine board, his hat
and coat off, his long black hair floating wildly in the wind, his
shirt unbuttoned at the front, his sleeves rolled up, with a pistol in
his teeth, and thus glaring upon the fireman, who lay motionless
upon the fuel. The furnace was stuffed till the very latch of the
door was red-hot, and the whole engine was quivering and
swaying as though it would shiver to pieces.
15, "Kroller! Kroller'!" I cried, at the top of my voice. The
crazy engineer started, and caught the pistol in his hand. Oh, how
those great black eyes glared, and how ghastly and frightful the
face looked!
"Ha! ha! ha!" he yelled demoniacally, glaring upon me like a
roused lion.
"They said that I could not make it! But see! see! See my new
power! See my new engine! I made it, and they are jealous of me!
I made it, and when it was done, they stole it from me. But I have
found it! For years 1 have been wandering in search of my great
engine, and they said it was not made. But I have found it! I knew
it this morning when I saw it at Dantzic, and I was determined to
have it. And I've got it! Ho! ho! ho! we're on the way to the moon,
I say! We'll be in the moon in four and twenty hours. Down,
down, villain! If you move, I'll shoot you."
This was spoken to the poor fireman, who at that moment
attempted to rise, and the frightened man sank back again.
16. "Here's Little Oscue just before us," cried out one of the
guard. But even as he spoke, the buildings were at hand. A
sickening sensation settled upon my heart, for I supposed that we
were now gone. The houses flew by like lightning. I knew if the
officers here had turned the switch as usual, we should be hurled
into eternity in one fearful crash. I saw a flash, --it was another
engine,--! closed my eyes; but still we thundered on! The officers
had seen
226 ECLECTIC SERIES.
our speed, and knowing that we would not be able to stop, in that
distance, they had changed the switch, so that we went forward.
17, But there was sure death ahead, if we did not stop. Only
fifteen miles from us was the town of Schwetz, on the Vistula; and
at the rate we were going we should be there in a few minutes, for
each minute carried us over a mile. The shrieks of the passengers
now rose above the crash of the rails, and more terrific than all
else arose the demoniac yells of the mad engineer.
"Merciful heavens!" gasped the guardsman, "there's not a
moment to lose; Schwetz is close. But hold," he added; "let's shoot
him,"
18- At that moment a tall, stout German student came over the
platform where we stood, and saw that the mad-man had his heavy
pistol aimed at us. He grasped a huge stick of wood, and, with a
steadiness of nerve which I could not have commanded, he hurled
it with such force and precision that he knocked the pistol from the
maniac's hand. I saw the movement, and on the instant that the
pistol fell, I sprang forward, and the German followed me. I
grasped the man by the arm; but I should have been nothing in his
mad power, had I been alone. He would have hurled me from the
platform, had not the student at that moment struck him upon the
head with a stick of wood, which he caught as he came over the
lender.
19. Kroller settled down like a dead man, and on the next
instant I shut off the steam and opened the valve. As the free
steam shrieked and howled in its escape, the speed began to
decrease, and in a few minutes more the danger was passed. As I
settled back, entirely overcome by the wild emotions that had
raged within me, we began to turn the river; and before T was
fairly recovered, the fireman had stopped the train in the station
house at Schwetz.
20. Martin Kroller, still insensible, was taken from the
FIFTH READER.
227
platform; and, as we carried him to the guard room, one of the
guard recognized him, and lold us thai he had been there about
two weeks before.
"He came," said the guard, "and swore that an engine which
stood near by was his. He said it was one he had made to go to the
moon in. and that it had been stolen from him. We sent for more
help to arrest him, and he fled."
"Well," I replied, with a shudder, "I wish he had approached me
in the same way; but he was more cautious at Danlzic."
At Schwartz we found an engineer to run the engine to
Bromberg; and having taken out the western mail for the next
northern mail to carry along, we saw that Kroller would be
properly attended to, and then started on-
21. The rest of the trip we ran in safely, though I could see the
passengers were not wholly at ease, and would not be until they
were entirely clear of the railway. Martin Kroller remained
insensible from the effects of the blow nearly two weeks; and
when he recovered from that, he was sound again; his insanity was
all gone. 1 saw him about three weeks afterward, but he had no
recollection of me- He remembered nothing of the past year, not
even his mad freak on my engine. But 1 remembered it, and I
remember it still; and the people need never fear that I shall be
imposed upon again by a crazy engineer.
p/Jirtf fl/ livtxe. crisis- Ke-mfliL''fitratet io prss&nl sJrony reasmis tz^ainst
nti^coTtrse^f proceedings u 7. Apt'n^sg,j?tft^tf^,su^7L?A^enfitfs. 8. Coo
p^d', o<iim. 11. Ap-preliand'j to sji.l6Ha\n Bii3piei6rk or /tar o/-
14-. T'Sii'dor, a ear ^niich^d IQ a locotnofive lo s-ttpph; it mtl fu^l and
ipaler. 13. Pre-^!'|LOii (pro. ^ire-^l^h'ury), ciccarcic^> ?r«crnflM,
NOTE.— This incident is said to have taken place on the railway
following the valley of the Vistula. River, in Prussia, from Danlzic
to Bromberg. The cities mentioned are all in Prussia, excepting
Stockholm, which is the capital of Sweden.
DEFINITIONS. -2. Com'pe-tent,//f, qualified. 4. Junc'ture,
point of Time, crisis. Re-mon'strate, to present strong
reasons against any course of proceedings. 7. Apt'ness.
fitness, snitobleness. S. Com-posed', calm. 11, Ap-pre-hend',
to entertain suspicion or fear of. 14. Ten'der, a car attached
to a locomotive to supply it with fuel and ^vater. 18. Pre-
ci'sion ipro. pre-sizh'un), (7rcw/(7rv, exactness.
228 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXX, THE HERITAGE.
James Russell Lowell (b. 1819, t/. 1891) was born in
Cambridge, Mass., and was graduated from Harvard College. He
entered the profession of law; but, in 1843, turned aside to publish
"The Pioneer, a Literary and Critical Magazine." In 1855 he was
appointed professor of Belles-lettres in Harvard College. From
1877 to 1885 he was U,S. Minister, first to Spain, afterwards to
Great Britain. Lowell's powers as a writer were very versatile, and
his poems range from the most dreamy and imaginative to the
most trenchant and witty. Among his most noted poetical works
are "The Biglow Papers," "A Fable for Critics," "The Vision of Sir
Launfal," "The Cathedral," and "The Legend of Brittany;" while
"Conversations on some of the Old Poets," "Among my Books,"
and "My Study Windows," place him in the front rank as an
essayist.
1, The rich man's son inherits lands.
And piles of brick, and stone, and gold,
And he inherits soft white hands.
And tender flesh that fears the cold.
Nor dares to wear a garment old;
A heritage, it seems to me.
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
2, The rich man's son inherits cares;
The bank may break, the factory burn,
A breath may burst his bubble shares.
And soft white hands could hardly earn
A living that would serve his turn;
A heritage, it seems to me,
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
3, The rich man's son inherits wants.
His stomach craves for dainty fare;
With sated heart, he hears the pants
Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare!
And wearies in his easy-chair;
A heritage, it seems to me.
One scarce would wish to hold in fee.
FIFTH READER. 229
4. What doth the poor man's son inherit?
Slout muscles and a sinewy heart,
A hardy frame, a hardier spirit;
King of two hands, he does his part
In every useful toil and art;
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
5. What doth the poor man's son inherit?
Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things,
A rank adjudged by toil-won merit,
Content that from employment springs,
A heart that in his labor sings;
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
6. What doth the poor man's son inherit?
A patience learned of being poor.
Courage, if sorrow come, to bear it,
A fellow-feeling that is sure
To make the outcast bless his door;
A heritage, it seems to me,
A king might wish to hold in fee.
7. O rich man's son! there is a toil
That with all others level stands:
Large charily doth never soil.
But only whiten soft, white hands, --
This is the best crop from thy lands;
A heritage, it seems to me.
Worth being rich to hold in fee,
8. O poor man's son! scorn not thy state;
There is worse weariness than thine
In merely being rich and great:
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
Toil only gives the soul to shine,
And makes rest fragrant and benign;
A heritage, it seems to me,
Worth being poor to hold in fee.
9. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod,
Are equal in the earth at last;
Both, children of the same dear God,
Prove title to your heirship vast
By record of a well-filled past;
A heritage, it seems to me,
Well worth a life to hold in fee.
PlCFtTtiTiOHe. — 1, Hgi/ivag^, thai ^Mch is uEAerrtei?, cr tak&^
E^go' ( jTi^F Ije-uiu'^, hQvi^g hiiiilihjiil qualities, li^al&^am-i^.
NOTES.-- 1. To hold in fee, means to have as an inheritance. 9.
Prove title. Thai is, to prove the right of ownership.
LXXL NO EXCELLENCE WITHOUT LABOR.
William Wirt (b. Mil, d. 1834) was born in Bladensburg, Md.
He was admitted to the bar in 1799, and afterwards practiced law,
with eminent success, at Richmond and Norfolk. Va. He was one
of the counsel for the prosecution in the trial of Aaron Burr for
treason. From 1817 to 1829 he was attorney-general for the United
States. In 1803 he published the "Letters of a British Spy," a work
which attracted much attention, and in 1817 a "Life of Patrick
Henry. '^
I . The education, moral and intellectual, of every individual,
must be chiefly his own work. Rely upon it thai the ancients were
right; both in morals and intellect we give the final shape to our
characters, and thus become, emphatically, the architects of our
own fortune. How else
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Her'it-age, tiwt which is inherited,
or taken by descent, from an ancestor. 3. Sat'ed.
sttrfeited, glutted. Hinds, peasants, countrynien. 5. Ad-
judged', decided, determined. 8. Benign' {pro, be-nin'),
having healthful qualities, wholesome.
FIFTH READER. 231
could it happen that young men, who have had precisely the same
opportunities, should be continually presenting us with such
different results, and rushing to such opposite destinies?
2. Difference of talent will not solve it, because that difference
is very often in favor of the disappointed candidate. You will see
issuing from the walls of the same college, nay, sometimes from
the bosom of the same family, two young men, of whom one will
be admitted to be a genius of high order, the other scarcely above
the point of mediocrity; yet you will see the genius sinking and
perishing in poverty, obscurity, and wretchedness; while, on the
other hand, you will observe the mediocre plodding his slow but
sure way up the hill of life, gaining steadfast footing at every step,
and mounting, at length, to eminence and distinction, an ornament
to his family, a blessing to his country.
3. Now, whose work is this? Manifestly their own. They are the
architects of their respective fortunes. The best seminary of
learning that can open its portals to you can do no more than to
afford you the opportunity of instruction; but it must depend, at
last, on yourselves, whether you will be instructed or not, or to
what point you will push your instruction.
4. And of this be assured, I speak from observation a certain
truth: THERE IS NO EXCELLENCE WITHOUT GREAT
LABOR. It is the fiat of fate, from which no power of genius can
absolve you,
5. Genius, unexerted, is like the poor moth that flutters around a
candle till it scorches itself to death. If genius be desirable at all, it
is only of that great and magnanimous kind, which, like the
condor of South America, pitches from the summit of
Chimborazo, above the clouds, and sustains itself at pleasure in
that empyreal region with an energy rather invigorated than
weakened by the effort.
232
ECLECTIC SERIES.
6. It is this capacity for high and long-continued exertion, this
vigorous power of profound and searching investigation, this
careering and wide-spreading comprehension of mind, and these
long reaches of thought, that
"Pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon,
Or dive into the bottom of the deep.
And pluck up drowned honor by the locks;"
this is the prowess, and these the hardy achievements, which are to
enroll your names among the great men of the earth.
DEFiNTTiosa. — 1. IiE5r^alj rdatlRj to dutij or Mig^n^t^rt.. Ai^-
ehi-t^^ts^ bitilfffri^y mffifr*. Dfe'Li-iiy^ ultxmat^ fif^^> jXjtpoinligd C03i*
diiion. 2. Csii'di-date, on£^ a^^o seeks afl^r go^e honor or office^
t^ED^iiiB ipTO' jen'yua), c man of superior mieli^ciuai pojL^rs. Me-
di-oe^ri-iy^ o middls sfate or det/7yr.e of taiioi^n Mo'di-o-cre (/^m^
m-e'ell-o-kr)^ Q mun of mofJeraie ialstits. 3. lie-Sp^tlVS,. jJttrticwiar,
fKtt'n. 4. A^J-solve^ sefff-^e, rtilea^sjir^m. VV^t^ a fl^c^^e. &. Con'-
dot, a i&r^ bird of th^ t^tiitar*^ jkmlj^- Em-p^r^e^l, r-^Jaft^^ to (he
l.ighG3i and purest re^hn ^ ih& h&i^en^. ^, Ca-ree^ing, inoifii^
Tripitf^^, I'row'fjss {pfv. proa'esjj bmiye^J/^ ^dness.
NOTES. --5. Chimhorazo (pro. chim-bo-ra'zo), is an extinct
volcano in Ecuador, whose height is 20,517 feet above the sea.
6. The quotation is from Shakespeare's "King Henry IV," Parr
L Act H Scene 3.
DEFINITIONS. -1. Mor'al, relating to dnty or obligation.
Ar'-chi-tects, builders, makers. Des'ti-ny, ultimate fate,
appointed condition. 2. Can'di-date, one who seeks after
some honor or office. Gen'ius (pro. jen'yus), a man of
superior intellectual powers. Medi-oc'ri-ty, a middle state or
degree of talents. Me'di-o-cre (pro. me'di-o-kr), a man of
moderate talents. 3. Re-spec'tive, particular, own. 4. Ab-
solve', set free, release from Fi'at, a decree. 5. Con'-dor, a
large bird of the vulture family , Em-pyr'e-al, relating to the
highest aitd purest region of the heavens. 6. Ca-reer'ing,
moving rapidly. Prow'ess (pro. prou'es), bravery, boldness.
LXXIL THE OLD HOUSE CLOCK,
I. Oh! the old, old clock of the household stock.
Was the brightest thing, and neatest;
Its hands, though old, had a touch of gold.
And its chimes rang still the sweetest;
FIFTH READER. 233
'T was a monitor, too, though its words were few.
Yet ihey lived, though nations altered;
And its voice, still strong, warned old and young,
When the voice of friendship faltered:
"Tick! tick!" it said, "quick, quick, to bed:
For ten I've given warning;
Up! up! and go, or else you know.
You'll never rise soon in the morning!"
2, A friendly voice was that old, old clock.
As it stood in the corner smiling.
And blessed the time with merry chime,
The wintry hours beguiling;
But a cross old voice was that tiresome clock.
As it called at daybreak boldly;
When the dawn looked gray o'er the misty way.
And the early air looked coldly:
"Tick! tick!" it said, "quick out of bed:
For five I've given warning;
You'll never have health, you'll never have wealth.
Unless you're up soon in the morning!"
3. Still hourly the sound goes round and round.
With a tone that ceases never:
While tears are shed for bright days fled.
And the old friends lost forever!
Its heart beats on, though hearts are gone
That beat like ours, though stronger;
Its hands still move, though hands we love
Are clasped on earth no longer!
"Tick! tick!" it said, "to the churchyard bed.
The grave hath given warning;
Up! up! and rise, and look at the skies.
And prepare for a heavenly morning!"
234 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXIIL THE EXAMINATION
Daniel Pierce Thompson (b. 1 193, d. 1868) was born at
Charlestown, Mass., but soon removed with his father to Vermont,
where he lived until twenty years of age, on a farm. His means of
schooling were most limited, but he was very ambitious and
seized every opportunity. By his own efforts he earned enough
money to carry him through Middlebury College, where he
graduated in 1820- He then went to Virginia as private tutor, and
while there was entered at the bar. He shortly returned to
Vermont, and opened a law office in Montpelier, In lime he was
elected a judge, and later secretary of slate. From his college days
Mr. Thompson was a writer for the various magazines. Among his
novels may be mentioned "Locke Amsden, the Schoolmaster,"
"May Martin, or the Money Diggers," "The Green Mountain
Boys," and "The Rangers, or the Tory's Daughter."
1. "Have you any questions to ask me in the other branches,
sir?" asked Locke.
"Not many," replied Bunker. "There is reading, writing,
grammar, etc., which I know nothing about; and as to them, I
must, of course, take you by guess, which will not be much of a
guess, after all, if 1 find you have thought well on all other matters.
Do you understand philosophy?"
2. "To what branch of philosophy do you allude, sir?"
"To the only branch there is."
"But you are aware that philosophy is divided into different
kinds; as, natural, moral, and intellectual/'
"Nonsense! philosophy is philosophy, and means the study of
the reasons and causes of the things which we see, whether it be
applied to a crazy man's dreams, or the roasting of potatoes. Have
you attended to it?"
"Yes, to a considerable extent, sir."
3. "I will put a question or two, then, if you please. What is the
reason of the fact, for it is a fact, that the damp breath of a person
blown on a good knife and on a bad one, will soonest disappear
from the well-tempered blade?"
FIFTH READER. 235
"It may be owing to the difference in the polish of the two
blades, perhaps." replied Locke.
4. "Ah! that is an answer that don't go deeper than the surface,"
rejoined Bunker, humorously. "As good a thinker as you evidently
are, you have not thought on this subject, I suspect. It took me a
week, in all, I presume, of hard thinking, and making experiments
at a blacksmith's shop, to discover the reason of this. It is not the
polish; for take two blades of equal polish, and the breath will
disappear from one as much quicker than it does from the other, as
the blade is better. It is because the material of the blade is more
compact or less porous in one case than in the other.
5, 'Tn the first place, I ascertained that the steel was, made more
compact by being hammered and tempered, and that the better it
was tempered the more compact it would become; the size of the
pores being made, of course, less in the same proportion. Well,
then, I saw the reason I was in search of, at once. For we know a
wet sponge is longer in drying than a wet piece of green wood,
because the pores of the first are bigger. A seasoned or shrunk
piece of wood dries quicker than a green one, for the same reason.
6. "Or you might bore a piece of wood with large gimlet holes,
and another with small ones, fill them both with water, and let
them stand till the water evaporated, and the difference of time it
would take to do this would make the case still more plain. So
with the blades: the vapor lingers longest on the worst wrought
and tempered one, because the pores, being larger, lake in more of
the wet particles, and require more time in drying,"
7, "Your theory is at least a very ingenious one," observed
Locke, "and I am reminded by it of another of the natural
phenomena, of the true explanation of which I have not been able
to satisfy myself. It is this: what makes the earth freeze harder and
deeper under a trodden
236 ECLECTIC SERIRES.
path than the untrodden earth around il? All that I have asked, say
it is because the trodden earth is more compact. But is that reason
a sufficient one?"
8. "No," said Bunker, "but I will tell you what the reason is, for
I thought thai out long ago- You know that, in the freezing
months, much of the warmth we get is given out by the earth, from
which, at intervals, if not constantly, to some extent, ascend the
warm vapors to mingle with and moderate the cold atmosphere
above.
9. "Now these ascending streams of warm air would be almost
wholly obstructed by the compactness of a trodden path, and they
would naturally divide at some distance below it, and pass up
through the loose earth on each side, leaving the ground along the
line of the path, to a great depth beneath it, a cold, dead mass,
through which the frost would continue to penetrate, unchecked by
the internal heat, which, in its unobstructed ascent on each side,
would be continually checking or overcoming the frost in its
action on the earth around.
10. "That, sir, is the true philosophy of the case, you may
depend upon it. But we will now drop the discussion of these
matters; for I am abundantly satisfied that you have not only
knowledge enough, but that you can think for yourself- And now,
sir, all I wish to know further about you is, whether you can leach
others to think, which is half the battle with a teacher. But as 1
have had an eye on this point, while attending to the others,
probably one experiment, which I will ask you to make on one of
the boys here, will be all I shall want,"
"Proceed, sir," said the other.
11. "Ay, sir," rejoined Bunker, turning to the open fireplace, in
which the burning wood was sending up a column of smoke,
"there, you see that smoke rising, don't you? Well, you and 1 know
the, reason why smoke goes upward, but my youngest boy does
not, 1 think. Now lake your own way, and see if you can make him
understand it."
FIFTH READER. 237
12. Locke, after a moment's reflection, and a glance round the
room for something to serve for apparatus, took from a shelf,
where he had espied a number of articles, the smallest of a set of
cast-iron cart boxes, as are usually termed the round hollow tubes
in which the axletree of a carriage turns. Then selecting a tin cup
that would just take in the box, and turning into the cup as much
water as he judged, with the box, would fill it, he presented them
separately to the boy, and said,
"There, my lad, tell me which of these is the heavier."
13. "Why, the cart box, to be sure," replied the boy, taking the
cup, half-filled with water, in one hand, and the hollow iron in the
other.
"Then you think this iron is heavier than as nnuch water as
would fill the place of it, do you?" resumed Locke.
"Why, yes, as heavy again, and more too--I know it is,"
promptly said the boy.
14. "Well, sir, now mark what I do," proceeded the former,
dropping into the cup the iron box, through the hollow of which
the water instantly rose to the brim of the vessel,
"There, you saw that water rise to the top of the cup, did you?"
"Yes, I did,"
"Very well, what caused it to do so?"
15. "Why, I know well enough, if I could only think: why, it is
because the iron is the heavier, and as it comes all around the
water so it can't gel away sideways, it is forced up."
"That is right; and now I want you to tell what makes that
smoke rise up the chimney."
16. "Why,— 1 guess," replied the boy, hesitating, "I guess,--!
guess 1 don't know."
"Did you ever gel up in a chair to look on some high shelf, so
that your head was brought near the ceiling of a
238
ECLECIC SERIES.
healed room, in winter? and did you notice any difference between
ihe air up there and the air near the floor?"
17. "Yes, I remember I have, and found the air up there as
warm as mustard; and when 1 got down, and bent my head near
the floor to pick up something, i found it as cold as could be."
"That is ever the case: but I wish you to tell me how the cold air
always happens to settle down to the lower part of the room, while
the warm air, somehow, at the same lime, gels above."
18. "Why, why, heavy things settle down, and the cold air--yes,
yes, that's it, I am sure--lhe cold air is heavier, and so settles down,
and crowds up the warm air."
"Very good. You then understand that cold air is heavier than
the heated ain as ihat iron is heavier than the water; so now we
will go back to the main question--whal makes the smoke go
upwards?"
19. "Oh! I see now as plain as day; the cold air settles down all
round, like the iron box, and drives up the hot air as fast as the fire
heats it, in the middle, like the water; and so the hot air carries the
smoke along up with it, just as feathers and things in a whirlwind.
Well! 1 have found out what makes smoke go up--is n't it
curious?"
20. "Done like a philosopher!" cried Bunker. "The thing is
settled. I will grant that you are a teacher among a thousand. You
can not only think yourself, but can teach others to think; so you
may call the position yours as quick as you please."
perfiiij f/rQii<^hA (rt -fl proper ^e^r^^ /if kturdjisifs^ i. Com-pacl/, cii'iSffly
Hinrf jf risif^y iiTjiffif, foUtff ifi^-^e. 4. Por^oy>9,yW^ of pores or iftiirtiite
^pifiinffjf. 0. E-vfipVrit-ed, pfTjsseti ojj^ in wtp^r. 7. In-g*n'iofla
DEFINITIONS. -2. In-tel-lec'tu-al, treating of the mind. 3.
Tem'pered, brought to a proper degree of hardness. 4.
Corn-pact', closely and firmly united, solid, dense. 4.
Por'ous, fitll of pores or minute openings. 6. E-vap'o-rat-
ed, passed off in vapor. 1 . In-gen'ious {pro. in-jen'yus),
well formed, skillful. 7. Phe-nom'e-non, ^vhatever is
presented to the eye. 8. In'ter-vals, spaces of time. 12. Ap-
pa-ra'tus, utensils for performing experiments.
FIFTH READER. 239
NOTE. --Locke Amsdeti is represented as a bright young
student in searcli of a position as teacher of a district schoot in
Vermont, Mr, Bunker, the "Examining Committee," is a queer,
shrewd old farmer, who can neither read nor write, but by careful
observation has picked up a large amount of valuable information.
The story opens in the midst of the examination.
LXXIV, THE ISLE OF LONG AGO,
Benjamin Franklin Taylor(/?, 1819, d. 1887) was born at
Lowville, N-Y. He graduated at Madison University, of which his
father was president. In 1845 he published "Attractions of
Language." For many years he was literary editor of the "Chicago
Journal." Mr. Taylor wrote considerably for the magazines, was
the author of many well-known favorite pieces both in prose and
verse, and achieved success as a lecturer.
1. Oh, a wonderful stream is the river of Time,
As it runs through the realm of tears.
With a faultless rhythm and a musical rhyme.
And a boundless sweep and a surge sublime.
As it blends with the ocean of Years,
2. How the winters are drifting, like flakes of snow.
And the summers, like buds between;
And the year in the sheaf--so they come and they go.
On the river's breast, with its ebb and flow.
As it glides in the shadow and sheen.
3. There's a magical isle up the river of Time,
Where the softest of airs are playing;
There's a cloudless sky and a tropical clime.
And a song as sweet as a vesper chime.
And the Junes with the roses are staying.
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. And the name of that isle is the Long Ago,
And we bury our treasures there;
There are brows of beauty and bosoms of snow-
There are heaps of dusl--but we love them so!--
There are trinkets and tresses of hair;
5. There are fragments of song that nobody sings.
And a part of an infant's prayer.
There's a lute unswepl, and a harp without strings;
There are broken vows and pieces of rings,
And the garments that she used to wear.
6. There are hands that are waved, when the fairy shore
By the mirage is lifted in air;
And we sometimes hear, through the turbulent roar.
Sweet voices we heard in the days gone before.
When the wind down the river is fair.
7. Oh, remembered for aye be the blessed Isle,
All the day of our life till night--
When the evening comes with its beautiful smile,
And our eyes are closing to slumber awhile.
May that "Greenwood." of Soul be in sight
T>IfiF^WITTO'^'a-■ — t- Realm,, re^itm^ amnlrif^ E-K^tlim, ^ har^
TUfiTiiof^ Jiofc of vot'^(fl soKTids^ llhymft, fA wofd amjsennff m nouml
iu an&iher word, Surg^j a ffreftt, fOlUn^ snyf.U v/^-oier. 3. yps^per,
p^tainifii; ij} the evp.mri§ ^erviee ^^ the ffcwicim CatMi'c C^nir^h.
6. fiii-rage' (pro. me-raah'), an i^ptir.al iliujihn earning ohjeci^ af. n
dieiance lo aesm «j fh^ngh sw^pe7id€d in ihs air, 7- Aje (pro. a),
NOTES. --5. A ItiTe ufiswepT, that is. unplayed.
7. Greenwood is a notes and very beautiful cemetery at the
southern extremity of Brooklyn, N.Y, The expression means, then,
the resting place of the soul.
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Realm, region, country. Rhythm, the
harmonious flow of vocal sointds. Rhyme, a word
answering in sound to another word. Surge, a great,
rolling swell of water. 3. Ves'per, pertaining to the evening
service in the Roman Catholic Church. 6. Mi-rage' (pro.
me-razh'), an optical illusion causing objects at a distance
to seem as though suspended in the air. 1. Aye {pro. aj,
always, ever.
FIFTH READER. 241
LXXV, THE BOSTON MASSACRE.
George Bancroft {b. 1800, d. 1891) was born al Worcester,
Mass. He was an ambitious student, and graduated at Harvard
College before he was eighteen years of age. He then traveled in
Europe, spending some time at the German universities. On his
return, in 1822, he was appointed tutor in Greek at Harvard, His
writings at this time were a small volume of original poems, some
translations from Schiller and Goethe, and a few striking essays.
Mr. Bancroft has held numerous high political offices. In 1838 he
was appointed collector of the port at Boston; in 1845 he was
made secretary of the Navy; in 1849 he was sent as United Slates
Minister to Great Britain; and in 1867 he was sent in the same
capacity to Prussia. The work which has given Mr. Bancroft his
great literary reputation is his "History of the United Slates, from
the Discovery of the American Continent," The first volume
appeared in 1834. Philosophical in reasoning, interesting, terse in
style, and founded on careful research, under the most favorable
advantages, the work stands alone in its sphere,
1 . The evening of the fifth came on. The young nr»oon was
shining brightly in a cloudless winter sky, and its light was
increased by a new-fallen snow. Parties of soldiers were driving
about the streets, making a parade of valor, challenging resistance,
and striking the inhabitants indiscriminately with sticks or
sheathed cutlasses,
2. A band, which poured out from Murray's barracks, in Brattle
Street, armed with clubs, cutlasses, and bayonets, provoked
resistance, and a fray ensued. Ensign Maul, at the gate of the
barrack yard, cried to the soldiers: "Turn out, and I will stand by
you; kill them; stick them; knock them down; run your bayonets
through them." One soldier after another leveled a firelock, and
threatened to "make a lane" through the crowd.
3. Just before nine, as an officer crossed King Street, now State
Street, a barber's lad cried after him: "There goes a mean fellow
who hath not paid my father for dressing his hair;" on which, the
sentinel stationed at the westerly end of the customhouse, on the
corner of King Street and Exchange Lane, left his post, and with
his musket gave the boy a stroke on the head, that made him
stagger and cry for pain.
242 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. The street soon became clear, and nobody troubled the
sentry, when a party of soldiers issued vioienlly from the main
guard, their arms glittering in the moonlight, and passed on,
hallooing: "Where are they? where are they? Let them come."
5. Presently twelve or fifteen more, uttering the same cries,
rushed from the south into King Street, and so by the way of
Cornhill towards Murray's barracks. "Pray, soldiers, spare my
life," cried a boy of twelve, whom they met- "No, no, I'll kill you
all," answered one of them, and knocked him down with his
cutlass. They abused and insulted several persons at their doors
and others in the street; "running about like madmen in a fury,"
crying, "Fire!" which seemed their watchword, and, "Where are
they? Knock them down." Their outrageous behavior occasioned
the ringing of the bell at the head of King Street.
6. The citizens, whom the alarm set in motion, came out with
canes and clubs; and, partly by the interference of well-disposed
officers, partly by the courage of Crispus Attucks, a mulatto, and
some others, the fray at the barracks was soon over. Of the
citizens, the prudent shouted, "Home! home!" others, it is said,
cried out, "Huzza for the main guard! there is the nest;" but the
main guard was not molested the whole evening.
7. A body of soldiers came up Royal Exchange Lane, crying,
"Where are the cowards?" and, brandishing their arms, passed
through King Street. From ten to twenty boys came after them,
asking, "Where are they? where are they?" "There is the soldier
who knocked me down," said the barber's boy; and they began
pushing one another towards the sentinel. He loaded and primed
his musket. "The lobster is going to fire," cried a boy. Waving his
piece about, the sentinel pulled the trigger.
8. "If you fire you must die for it," said Henry Knox, who was
passing by. "I don't care," replied the sentry.
FIFTH READER. 243
"if they touch me. Til fire." "Fire!" sliouted tlie boys, for tliey were
persuaded lie could not do it without leave from a civil officer; and
a young fellow spoke out, "We will knock him down for
snapping," while they whistled through their fingers and huzzaed.
"Stand off !" said the sentry, and shouted aloud, "Turn out, main
guard!" "They are killing the sentinel," reported a servant from the
customhouse, running to the main guard. "Turn out! why don't you
turn cut?" cried Preston, who was captain of the day, to the guard.
9, A party of six, two of whom, Kilroi and Montgomery, had
been worsted at the ropewalk, formed, with a corporal in front and
Preston following. With bayonets fixed, they "rushed through the
people" upon the trot, cursing them, and pushing them as they
went along. They found about ten persons round the sentry, while
about fifty or sixty came down with them. "For God's sake," said
Knox! holding Preston by the coat, "take your men back again; if
they fire, your life must answer for the consequences." "I know
what I am about," said he hastily, and much agitated.
10. None pressed on them or provoked them till they began
loading, when a party of about twelve in number, with sticks in
their hands, moved from the middle of the street where they had
been standing, gave three cheers, and passed along the front of the
soldiers, whose muskets some of them struck as they went by.
"You are cowardly rascals," they said, "for bringing arms against
naked men," "Lay aside your guns, and we are ready for you."
"Are the soldiers loaded?" inquired Palmes of Preston. "Yes," he
answered, "with powder and ball." "Are they going to fire upon
the inhabitants?" asked Theodore Bliss. "They can not, without
my orders," replied Preston; while "the town-born" called out,
"Come on, you rascals, you bloody backs, you lobster scoundrels,
fire, if you dare. We know you dare not,"
244 ECLECTIC SERIES.
1 1 . Just then, Montgomery received a blow from a stick which
had hit his Musket; and the word "fire!" being given by Preston,
he stepped a little to one side, and shot Attucks, who at the time
was quietly leaning on a long stick. "Don't fire!" said Langford,
the watchman, to Kilroi, looking him full in the face; but yet he
did so, and Samuel Gray, who was standing next Langford, fell
lifeless. The rest fired slowly and in succession on the people, who
were dispersing. Three persons were killed, among them Allucks,
the mulatto; eight were wounded, two of them mortally. Of all the
eleven, not more than one had any share in the disturbance.
12. So infuriated were the soldiers that, when the men returned
to take up the dead, they prepared to fire again, but were checked
by Preston, while the Twenty-ninth Regiment appeared under
arms in King Street, "This is our time," cried the soldiers of the
Fourteenth; and dogs were never seen more greedy for their prey.
13. The bells rung in all the churches; the town drums beat, "To
arms! to arms!" was the cry. "Our hearts," said Warren, "beat to
arms, almost resolved by one stroke to avenge the death of our
slaughtered brethren;" but they stood self-possessed, demanding
justice according to the law. "Did you not know that you should
not have fired without the order of a civil magistrate?" asked
Hutchinson, on meeting Preston. "I did it," answered Preston, "to
save my men."
14. The people would not be pacified or retire till the regiment
was confined to the guardroom and the barracks; and Hutchinson
himself gave assurances that instant inquiries should be made by
the county magistrates. One hundred persons remained to keep
watch on the examination, which lasted till three hours after
midnight. A warrant was issued against Preston, who surrendered
himself to the sheriff; and the soldiers of his party were delivered
up and committed to prison.
FIFTH READER,
245
i^rsi milk. KlR^liickj iifli ^Ui-Mylt aiTis/vr^, *iiilft 0. jl^^W^iJFit- 7r Hrmi'-
disli-jiig', tfvupmj,j7^umAMij, 13. SGIf -pcw-tittiEsdp fifli^ur-ftit'V'i", -flflJ^
fj g?^iW, mfirti'ifir, efc- 14, ra(j')-fle4, oolxjia/, ftiief^tj. Wai'nuil:, a
NOTES. --This massacre took place Monday, March 5, 1770-
5. Cornhill is the name of a street in Boston.
7. Lobster was the epithet applied to a British soldier by the
Americans on account of his red coat.
8. Henry Knox{b. 1750, d. 1806) was then a bookseller in
Boston. He afterwards became one of the American generals.
8. Ropewalk . The active trouble resulting in the massacre arose
from a soldier's being thrashed the Friday before at Gray's
ropewalk, where he had challenged one of the workmen to fight;
other soldiers joined in the affray from time to time, but were
always worsted.
13. Warren. This was Joseph Warren {h. 174K d. 1775). the
American patriot, killed shortly after at Bunker Hill.
Thomas Hutchinson was at this lime lieutenant governor of
Massachusetts. Although born in Boston, he sided with the British
government in the troubles before the Revolution, and sailed for
England in 1774.
LXXVL DEATH OF THE BEAUTIFUL,
Eliza Lee Fallen [b. 1787. d. 1859) was born in Boston. Mass.
Her maiden name was Cabott. In 1828, she married Charles
Pollen, Professor of the German language and its literature in
Harvard University. Her principal works are "Sketches of Married
Life." "The Skeptic," "Twilight Stories," and "Little Songs." For
several years Mrs. Pollen was editor of the "Children's Friend,"
DEFINITIONS.- 1. In-dis-crim'i-nale-ly, without
distinction. 2, En-suQd\ followed, resulted from. En'sign
{pro. en'sin). an officer of low rank. Fire'lock, an old-style
musket, with flintlock, 7. Bran'- dish-ing, waving,
flourishing. 13. Self '-pos-sessed, undisturbed, calm in
mind, manner, etc, 14. Pac'i-fied, calmed, quieted.
War'rant, a writ authorizing an officer to seize an offender.
\. The young, the lovely, pass away.
Ne'er to be seen again;
Earth's fairest flowers too soon decay.
Its blasted trees remain.
246
ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. Full oft, we see the brightest thing
That lifts its head on high.
Smile in the light, then droop its wing.
And fade away and die.
3, And kindly is the lesson given;
Then dry the falling tear:
They came lo raise our hearts to Heaven;
They go lo call us there.
LXXVIL SNOW FALLING,
John James Piatt {b. 1835,--) was born in Dearborn County,
Ind., and is of French descent. He began to write verses at the age
of fourteen, and has been connected editorially with several
papers. Several editions of his poems have been issued from time
lo time, each edition usually containing some additional poems.
Of these volumes we may menlion: "Poems in Sunshine and
Firelight," "Western Windows," "The Lost Farm," and "Poems of
House and Home."
1. The wonderful snow is falling
Over river and woodland and wold;
The trees bear spectral blossom
In the moonshine blurr'd and cold.
2. There's a beautiful garden in Heaven;
And these are the banished flowers.
Falling and driven and drifted
Into this dark world of ours.
DEFTyiTio^^s. — 1. WGldi a pimf^ flf open e^ut^^ty, a i^flHnfr'jr
DEF1NITIONS.--1. Wold, a plain or open counrry, a
country without wood whether hilly or not. Spec'tral,
ghostly. 2. Ban'ished, condemned to exile, driven away.
FIFTH READER. 247
LXXVIIL SQUEERS'S METHOD,
Charles Dickens (/?. 1812, d. 1870). This celebrated novelist
was born in Portsmouth, England. He began his active life as a
lawyer's apprentice, in London; but soon becanne a reporter, and
followed this occupation from 1831 to 1836. His first book was
entitled "Sketches of London Society, by Boz." In 1837 he
published the Tickwick Papers," a work which established his
reputation as a writer. His other works followed with great
rapidity, and his last, "Edwin Drood," was unfinished when he
died. He visited America in 1842 and in 1867, He is buried in
Westminster Abbey. Mr. Dickens excelled in humor and pathos,
and was particularly successful in delineating the joys and griefs
of childhood. His writings have a tendency to prompt to deeds of
kindness and benevolence. The following extract is taken from
"Nicholas Nickleby," one of the best of his noveis.
1. "Come," said Squeers, "let's go to the schoolroom; and lend
me a hand with my school coat, will you?"
Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old fustian shooting
Jacket, which he took down from a peg in the passage; and
Squeers, arming himself with his cane, led the way across a yard
to a door in the rear of the house.
"There," said the schoolmaster, as they stepped in together;
"this is our shop, Nickleby/'
2. It was such a crowded scene, and there were so many objects
to attract attention, that at first Nicholas stared about him, really
without seeing anything at all. By degrees, however, the place
resolved itself into a bare and dirty room with a couple of
windows, whereof a tenth part might be of glass, the remainder
being stopped up with old copy books and paper.
3. There were a couple of long, old, rickety desks, cut and
notched, and inked and damaged in every possible way; two or
three forms, a detached desk for Squeers, and another for his
assistant. The ceiling was supported like that of a barn, by
crossbeams and rafters, and the walls were so stained and
discolored that it was impossible to tell whether they had ever
been touched by paint or whitewash.
248 ECLECTIC SERIES.
4. Pale and haggard faces, lank and bony figures, children with
the countenances of old men, deformities with irons upon their
limbs, boys of stunted growth, and others whose long, meager legs
would hardly bear their stooping bodies, all crowded on the view
together. There were little faces which should have been
handsome, darkened with the scowl of sullen, dogged suffering;
there was childhood with the light of its eye quenched, its beauty
gone, and its helplessness alone remaining.
5. And yet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque
features, which, in a less interested observer than Nicholas, might
have provoked a smile. Mrs. Squeers stood at one of the desks,
presiding over an immense basin of brimstone and treacle, of
which delicious compound she administered a large installment to
each boy in succession, using for the purpose a common wooden
spoon, which might have been originally manufactured for some
gigantic top, and which widened every young gentleman's mouth
considerably, they being all obliged, under heavy corporeal
penalties, to take in the whole bowl at a gasp.
6. "Now," said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap with his
cane, which made half the little boys nearly jump out of their
boots, "is that physicking over?"
"Just over," said Mrs. Squeers, choking the last boy in her
hurry, and lapping the crown of his head with the wooden spoon
to restore him. "Here, you Smike: take away now. Look sharp!"
7. Smike shuffled out with the basin, and Mrs. Squeers hurried
out after him into a species of washhouse, where there was a small
fire, and a large kettle, together with a number of little wooden
bowls which were arranged upon a board. Into these bowls Mrs.
Squeers, assisted by the hungry servant, poured a brown
composition which looked like diluted pincushions without the
covers, and was called porridge. A minute wedge of brown bread
was inserted in each bowl, and when they had eaten their porridge
by
FIFTH READER.
249
j§4'''^-:?-
means of the bread, the boys ate the bread itself, and had finished
their breakfast, whereupon Mr, Squeers went away to his own.
8. After some half-hour's delay Mr. Squeers reappeared, and the
boys took their places and their books, of which latter commodity
the average might be about one to eight
250 ECLECTIC SERIES.
learners. A few minutes having elapsed, during which Mr. Squeers
looked very profound, as if he had a perfect apprehension of what
was inside all the books, and could say every word of their
contents by heart, if he only chose to take the trouble, that
gentleman called up the first class.
9. Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves in front
of the schoolmaster's desk, half a dozen scarecrows, out at knees
and elbows, one of whom placed a torn and filthy book beneath
his learned eye.
"This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy,
Nickleby," said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside him.
"We'll get up a Latin one, and hand that over to you. Now, then,
Where's the first boy?"
10. "Please, sir, he's cleaning the back parlor window," said the
temporary head of the philosophical class.
"So he is, to be sure," rejoined Squeers. "We go upon the
practical mode of teaching, Nickleby; the regular education
system. C-1-e-a-n, clean, verb active, to make bright, to scour, W-
i-n, win, d-e-r, der, winder, a casement. When the boy knows this
out of book, he goes and does it. It's just the same principle as the
use of the globes, Where's the second boy?"
11. "Please, sir, he is weeding the garden," replied a small
voice.
"To be sure," said Squeers, by no means disconcerted, "so he is.
B-o-t, bol, t-i-n, tin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney, noun substantive, a
knowledge of plants. When he has learned that bottinney means a
knowledge of plants, he goes and knows 'em. Thai's our system,
Nickleby: what do you think of it?"
"It's a very useful one, at any rate," answered Nicholas,
significantly.
12- "I believe you," rejoined Squeers, not remarking the
emphasis of his usher. "Third boy, what's a horse?"
"A beast, sir," replied the boy.
"So it is," said Squeers. "Ain't it, Nickleby?"
FIFTH READER.
251
"I believe lliere is no doubt of that, sir," answered Nicholas.
"Of course there is n't," said Squeers. "A horse is a quadruped,
and quadruped's Latin for beast, as everybody that's gone through
the grammar knows, or else where's the use of having grammars at
all?"
"Where, indeed!" said Nicholas, abstractedly.
13. "As you're perfect in that," resumed Squeers, turning to the
boy, "go and look after my horse, and rub him down well, or Til
rub you down. The rest of the class go and draw water up till
somebody tells you to leave off, for it's washing day to-morrow,
and they want the coppers filled."
J)KinNl'riOR5* — L il'QB'tilLll, a kind of etittan stiiff', indtufijig^
cordio'o^y velr^efssn, flic- 2- Ke-g&lvad', mntie c^ea*', disi-fifiinff(eil.
4. nF-f6niL^i-tle5j misshapen persons, Stijnt'ed, e^yckcd iii ji-nUTf/i,
Kl^a.''g«r, iAirfjJ^an.. &, Gro-tkiiqii^' (pro. giri-teRhr^y^fx^ci/lU^abmrd.
Ad-miii'is-teretiji ffass^. dispfmssd. In-KtjtU'nient (litei^ilyj pOTl ij/"
a delti), p^tt poriion^ Cor-p&'re-aJ, bodily, 6- Fhy^'kk-lTig-,
dock^nri-f^^ trsallng snVA TB.ediciii& ?- I>I-lut'ed# tVtffTJtftR^ bp ihe
tiddiiwji of -Eoicier* S. CoEH-m^d'l-Lj', ariifiie, v^rres, Pro-foirrid'j
zTthUcutiaallif di^ep, wise. Ay^^'^'hi^a'sian, coTitprsh&H^iQn^ knawl-
ed^e. 10. T'eiji'jM(-ta-ry^ Jj^ the tims {>eini/. 11. UlS-eOTI-^Srt'ed,
cOnfascd, ah<ishs<S. Sig-iiiri-ctLiil^W, wifA rn^cauifi^. V2. Ab-atrS^et''-*
ed-ly, in <in FtbssTii'Tnindifid iDtiy.
NOTES.-- 1. Mr. Squeers is represented as an ignorant, brutal
teacher, many of whom were to be found in Yorkshire, England, at
the time of this story.
Nicholas Nickleby is a well-educated, refined young man, who
has just obtained the position of assistant teacher, not knowing
Squeers's true character.
6. Smike is a poor scholar, disowned by his parents, and made
almost idiotic by harsh treatment.
The novel from which this story is abridged, aided greatly in a
much-needed reform in the Yorkshire schools; and the character
of Squeers was so true to life, that numerous suits were threatened
against Mr. Dickens by those who thought themselves caricatured.
DEFINITIONS. -I. Fus'li^n, a kind of cotton stuff, including
corduroy, velveteen, etc. 2. Re-solved', uiade clear,
disentangled. 4. De-form'i-ties, misshapen persons. Stunt'ed,
checked in growth. Mea'ger, thin. lean. 5. Gro-tesque' (pro.
gro-i^sk"), fanciful, absurd. Ad-min'is-tered, gave, dispensed.
In-stall'ment (literally, part of a debt), part, portion. Cor-
po're-al, bodily. 6. Phys'ick-ing, doctoring, treating with
medicine. 1. Di-lut'ed. weakened by the addition of water. 8.
Com-mod'i-ty, article, wares. Pro-found', Intellectually deep,
wise. Ap-pre-hen'sion, comprehension, knowledge. 10.
Tem'po-rn-iy. for the time being. 11. Dis-con-cert'ed,
confused, abashed. Sig-nif 'i-cant-ly, with meaning. 12. Ab-
stract'-ed-ly, in an absent-minded way.
252 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXIX, THE GIFT OF EMPTY HANDS,
Mrs. S, M, B. Piatt (b. 1835,--) was born near Lexington, Ky.
While still a young girl she began to write poetry, which was well
received. In 1861 she was married to the poet John James Piatt.
Mrs, Piatt's poetry is marked by tender pathos, thoughtfulness, and
musical flow of rhythm. The following selection is from "That
New World/'
1. They were two princes doomed to death;
Each loved his beauty and his breath:
"Leave us our life and we will bring
Fair gifts unto our lord, the king."
2. They went together. In the dew
A charmed bird before them flew.
Through sun and thorn one followed it;
Upon the other's arm it lit.
3. A rose, whose faintest flush was worth
All buds that ever blew on earth.
One climbed the rocks to reach; ah, well,
Into the other's breast it felL
4. Weird jewels, such as fairies wear.
When moons go out, to light their hair.
One tried to touch on ghostly ground;
Gems of quick fire the other found.
5. One with the dragon fought to gain
The enchanted fruit, and fought in vain;
The other breathed the garden's air
And gathered precious apples there.
6. Backward to the imperial gate
One took his fortune, one his fate:
One showed sweet gifts from sweetest lands.
The other, torn and empty hands.
FIFTH READER
253
7. At bird, and rose, and gem, and fruit,
The king was sad, Ihe king was mute;
At last he slowly said: "My son,
True treasure is not lightly won.
8. Your brother's hands, wherein you see
Only these scars, show more to me
Than if a kingdom's price I found
In place of each forgotten wound."
tainted u\ifA. witc^trnf^^ sttpfrnaturc^.- QiiSck, ttlii'e^ linin-ff. C. Im-
LXXX. CAPTURING THE WILD HORSE.
DEFINITIONS.--!. Doomed, destined, condemned. 2.
Charmed, bewitched, enchanted. 3. Blew, blossomed,
bloomed. 4. Weird, tainted with witchcraft, supernatural
Quick, alive, living. 6. Im-pe'ri-al, royal. 7 Mule, silent.
1, We left the buffalo camp about eight o'clock, and had a
toilsome and harassing march of two hours, over ridges of hiJIs
covered with a ragged forest of scrub oaks, and broken by deep
gullies.
2. About ten o'clock in the morning we came to where this line
of rugged hills swept down into a valley, through which flowed
the north fork of Red River. A beautiful meadow, about half a
mile wide, enameled with yellow, autumnal flowers, stretched for
two or three miles along the fool of the hills, bordered on the
opposite side by the river, whose banks were fringed with
Cottonwood trees, the bright foliage of which refreshed and
delighted the eye, after being wearied by the contemplation of
monotonous wastes of brown forest.
3. The meadow was finely diversified by groves and clumps of
trees, so happily dispersed that they seemed as
254 ECLECTIC SERIES.
if set out by the hand of art. As we cast our eyes over this fresh
and delightful valley, we beheld a troop of wild horses quietly
grazing on a green lawn, about a mile distant, to our right, while to
our left, at nearly the same distance, were several buffaloes; some
feeding, others reposing, and ruminating among the high, rich
herbage, under the shade of a clump of cottonwood trees. The
whole had the appearance of a broad, beautiful tract of pasture
land, on the highly ornamented estate of some gentleman farmer,
with his cattle grazing about the lawns and meadows.
4, A council of war was now held, and it was determined to
profit by the present favorable opportunity, and try our hand at the
grand hunting maneuver which is called "ringing the wild horse."
This requires a large parly of horsemen, well mounted. They
extend themselves in each direction, at a certain distance apart,
and gradually form a ring of two or three miles in circumference,
so as to surround the game. This must be done with extreme care,
for the wild horse is the most readily alarmed inhabitant of the
prairie, and can scent a hunter a great distance, if to windward.
5, The ring being formed, two or three ride toward the horses,
which start off in an opposite direction. Whenever they approach
the bounds of the ring, however, a huntsman presents himself, and
turns them from their course. In this way they are checked, and
driven back at every point, and kept galloping round and round
this magic circle, until, being completely tired down, it is easy for
hunters to ride up beside them and throw the lariat over their
heads. The prime horses of the most speed, courage, and bottom,
however, are apt to break through and escape, so that, in general, it
is the second-rate horses that are taken.
6, Preparations were now made for a hunt of this kind. The
pack horses were now taken into the woods and firmly
FIFTH READER. 255
tied to trees, lest in a rush of the wild horses they should break
away. Twenty-five men were then sent under the command of a
lieutenant to steal along the edge of the valley within the strip of
wood that skirted the hills. They were to station themselves about
fifty yards apart, within the edge of the woods, and not advance or
show themselves until the horses dashed in that direction. Twenty-
five men were sent across the valley to steal in like manner along
the river bank that bordered the opposite side, and to station
themselves among the trees.
7. A third party of about the same number was to form a line,
stretching across the lower part of the valley, so as to connect the
two wings. Beatte and our other half-breed, Antoine, together with
the ever-officious Tonish, were to make a circuit through the
woods so as to get to the upper part of the valley, in the rear of the
horses, and drive them forward into the kind of sack that we had
formed, while the two wings should join behind them and make a
complete circle.
8. The flanking parties were quietly extending themselves out
of sight, on each side of the valley, and the residue were stretching
themselves like the links of a chain across it, when the wild horses
gave signs that they scented an enemy; snuffing the air, snorting,
and looking about. At length they pranced off slowly toward the
river, and disappeared behind a green bank.
9- Here, had the regulations of the chase been observed, they
would have been quietly checked and turned back by the advance
of a hunter from among the trees. Unluckily, however, we had our
wildfire. Jack-o'-lantern little Frenchman to deal with. Instead of
keeping quietly up the right side of the valley, to get above the
horses, the moment he saw them move toward the river he broke
out of the covert of woods and dashed furiously across the plain in
pursuit of them. This put an end to all system. The half-breeds,
and half a score of rangers, joined in the chase.
256 ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. A way they all went over the green bank. In a moment or
two the wild horses reappeared, and came thundering down the
valley, with Frenchman, half-breeds, and rangers galloping and
bellowing behind them. It was in vain that the line drawn across
the valley attempted to check and turn back the fugitives; they
were loo holly pressed by their pursuers: in their panic they
dashed through the line, and clattered down the plain,
1 1- The whole troop joined in the headlong chase, some of the
rangers without hats or caps, their hair flying about their ears, and
others with handkerchiefs lied round their heads. The buffaloes,
which had been calmly ruminating among the herbage, heaved up
their huge forms, gazed for a moment at the tempest that came
scouring down the meadow, then turned and took to heavy, rolling
flight- They were soon overtaken; the promiscuous throng were
pressed together by the contracting sides of the valley, and away
they went, pellmell, hurry-skurry, wild buffalo, wild horse, wild
huntsman, with clang and clatter, and whoop and halloo, that
made the forests ring,
12. At length the buffaloes turned into a green brake, on the
river bank, while the horses dashed up a narrow defile of the hills,
with their pursuers close to their heels, Beatte passed several of
ihem, having fixed his eye upon a fine Pawnee horse that had his
ears slit and saddle marks upon his back. He pressed him
gallantly, but lost him in the woods,
13. Among the wild horses was a fine black mare, which in
scrambling up the defile tripped and fell. A young ranger sprang
from his horse and seized her by the mane and muzzle. Another
ranger dismounted and came to his assistance. The mare struggled
fiercely, kicking and biting, and striking with her fore feel, but a
noose was slipped over her head, and her struggles were in vain.
14. It was some lime, however, before she gave over rearing
and plunging, and lashing out with her feet on
FIFTH READER.
257
every side. The two rangers then led her along the valley, by two
strong lariats, which enabled them to keep at a sufficient distance
on each side to be out of the reach of her hoofs, and whenever she
struck out in one direction she was jerked in the other. In this way
her spirit was gradually subdued.
15. As to Tonish, who had marred the whole scene by his
precipitancy, he had been more successful than he deserved,
having managed to catch a beautiful cream-colored colt about
seven months old, that had not strength to keep up with its
companions. The mercurial little Frenchman was beside himself
with exultation. It was amusing to see him with his prize. The coll
would rear and kick, and struggle to get free, when Tonish would
take him about the neck, wrestle with him, jump on his back, and
cut as many antics as a monkey with a kitten.
16. Nothing surprised me more, however, than to witness how
soon these poor animals, thus taken from the unbounded freedom
of the prairie, yielded to Ihe dominion of man. In the course of two
or three days the mare and colt went with the led horses and
became quite docile.
—Washington Irving,
J>EFiMiTiow&H — 1^ &Ul'lie^ hollows ijt the eorih w^/n b^ icater.
mi-natring, c^ewtn^ Oif^i' re^at ka$ Sf^s $li^h!l^ cft^MpJ be/o^e^
HErb'ag^ ( pro^ erl/aj). pasiure, tfr-asir. 4. I'riii'rie, an extensive^
IevsI tract withoTtt treEn, ftui covsred Tcilk Ml ^rass. Wlnd'Tvard^
ihe point from u>hich tke mnd blo$u8. & LaT'i^tp, s lont/ card or
tli0n<^ vf kitifi^rf mf!i a noos^, for caiehin^ wild Aorjc?. BSt'tuui,
jKfur^r of ^:rnlarance. 8. FlUnk'iog, DVivrlfifjkhig or cGmmandinff
{ittiJtfi j^UIe. 9. J5ck-oM&p'terHj o li^ht sect; in tiHOj rf^oial grour^d^j
whif:h di^fappftnrs «jAffi approftiTh^d^ 9. C6v'ei'tj a cfji^srinff piaffe, a
shelter. lU. J^'Aji'm, suddfii Jrifjht (u^M^Wy^t^a.itse^AsJHght'). 11. Pro-
DJla'ciu-ou^, Tiiin^iedr coTtfased. 15. MUrrOil, iiUerrujjl^dj S}it)fl^t
Mer-eu''ri-al3 spri<^hd^, full t^ftv-
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Gul'lies, hollows in the earth worn by water.
Di-ver'si-fied, distinguished by numerous aspects, varied. 3. Ru'
mi-nat-ing, chewing over what has been slightly chewed before.
Herb' age [pro. erb' aj), pasture, grass. 4. Prai'rie, an extensive,
level tract without trees, but covered with tall grass. Wind'ward,
the point from which the wind blows. 5. Lar'i-at, a long cord or
thong of leather, with a noose, for catching wild horses. Bot'lom,
power of endurance. 8. Flank'ing, overlooking or commanding on
the side. 9. Jack-o'-lan'tern, a light seen in low, moist grounds,
which disappears when approached. 9. Cov'ert, a covering place,
a shelter. 10. Pan'ic, sudden fright [usuaiUy^ causeless fright). 1 1.
Pro-mis'cu-ous, /;7//v^/^rA confused. 15. Marred, interrupted,
spoiled. Mer-cu'ri-al, sprightly, full of fire.
258 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXXI. SOWING AND REAPING,
Adelaide Anne Procter {b. 1825, d. 1864) was the daughter of
Bryan Waller Procter (belter known as "Barry Cornwall "), a
celebrated English poet, living in London. Miss Procter's first
volume, "Legends and Lyrics," appeared in 1858, and met with
great success; it was republished in this country. A second series,
under the same name, was published in 1860; and in 1862 both
series were republished with additional poems, and an
introduction by Charles Dickens. In 1861 Miss Procter edited
"Victoria Regia," a collection of poetical pieces, to which she
contributed; and in 1862 "A Chaplet of Verses," composed of her
own poems, was published. Besides these volumes, she
contributed largely to various magazines and periodicals.
1. Sow with a generous hand;
Pause not for toil and pain;
Weary not through the heat of summer.
Weary not through the cold spring rain;
But wait till the autumn comes
For the sheaves of golden grain.
2. Scatter the seed, and fear not,
A table will be spread;
What matter if you are too weary
To eat your hard-earned bread;
Sow, while the earth is broken.
For the hungry must be fed,
3. Sow;--while the seeds are lying
in the warm earth's bosom deep.
And your warm tears fall upon it—
They will stir in their quiet sleep.
And the green blades rise the quicker.
Perchance, for the tears you weep.
4. Then sow;--for the hours are fleeting.
And the seed must fall to-day;
FIFTH READER. 259
And care not what hand shall reap it,
Or if you shall have passed away
Before the waving cornfields
Shall gladden the sunny day.
5- Sow;— and look onward, upward,
Where the starry light appears,--
Where, in spite of the coward's doubting.
Or your own heart's trembling fears.
You shall reap in joy the harvest
You have sown to-day in tears.
LXXXIL TAKING COMFORT,
1 . For the last few days, the fine weather has led me away from
books and papers, and the close air of dwellings, into the open
fields, and under the soft, warm sunshine, and the softer light of a
full moon. The loveliest season of the whole year--lhat transient
but delightful interval between the storms of the "wild equinox,
with all their wet," and the dark, short, dismal days which precede
the rigor of winter--is now with us. The sun rises through a soft
and hazy atmosphere; the light mist clouds melt gradually before
him; and his noontide light rests warm and clear on still woods,
tranquil waters, and grasses green with the late autumnal rains.
2. One fine morning, not long ago, I strolled down the
Merrimac, on the Tewksbury shore. I know of no walk in the
vicinity of Lowell so inviting as that along the margin of the river,
for nearly a mile from the village of Belvidere. The path winds,
green and flower-skirled, among beeches and oaks, through whose
boughs you catch glimpses
260 ECLECTIC SERIES.
of waters sparkling and dashing below. Rocks, huge and
picturesque, jut out into the stream, affording beautiful views of
the river and the distant city.
3. Half fatigued with my walk, I threw myself down upon a
rocky slope of the bank, where the panorama of earth, sky, and
water lay clear and distinct about me. Far above, silent and dim as
a picture, was the city, with its huge mill masonry, confused
chimney lops, and church spires; near it rose the height of
Belvidere, with its deserted burial place and neglected gravestones
sharply defined on its bleak, bare summit against the sky; before
me the river went dashing down its rugged channel, sending up its
everlasting murmur; above me the birch tree hung its tassels; and
the last wild flowers of autumn profusely fringed the rocky rim of
the water.
4. Right opposite, the Dracul woods stretched upwards from the
shore, beautiful with the hues of frost, glowing with tints richer
and deeper than those which Claude or Poussin mingled, as if the
rainbows of a summer shower had fallen among them. At a little
distance to the right, a group of cattle stood mid-leg deep in the
river; and a troop of children, bright-eyed and mirthful, were
casting pebbles at them from a projecting shelf of rock. Over all a
warm but softened sunshine melted down from a slumberous
autumnal sky.
5. My reverie was disagreeably broken, A low, grunting sound,
half bestial, half human, attracted my attention. I was not alone.
Close beside me, half hidden by a tuft of bushes, lay a human
being, stretched out at full length, with his face literally rooted
into the gravel. A little boy, five or six years of age, clean and
healthful, with his fair brown locks and blue eyes, stood on the
bank above, gazing down upon him with an expression of
childhood's simple and unaffected pily.
6. "What ails you?" asked the boy at length. "What makes you
lie there?"
FIFTH READER,
261
The prostrate groveler struggled halfway up, exhibiting the
bloated and filthy countenance of a drunkard. He made two or
three efforts to gel upon his feel, lost his balance, and tumbled
forward upon his face.
"What are you doing there?" inquired the boy-
"I'm taking comfort," he muttered, with his mouth in the dirt.
7. Taking his comfort! There he lay, --squalid and loathsome
under the bright heaven. --an imbruted man. The holy harmonies of
Nature, the sounds of gushing waters, the rustle of the leaves
above him, the wild flowers, the frost bloom of the woods, --what
were they to him? Insensible, deaf, and blind, in the stupor of a
living death, he lay there, literally realizing that most bitterly
significant eastern malediction, "May you eat dirt."
-Whittier.
DiCTTHTTTOKS.^— L Tj^'Bient (fro. trRn^slient), of &}uyi-t dia-atkn^
E'qui-TiiJij {hfL limf. f)/ ^^<jr fskev. He d<tr/s afid- lU^ht.^ rrr^ vf equal
lejifffh^ i,^.., ir^fy-rtt September 2M o^ AfarrJt. SIjL Ki^Vr, seL'Erit^.
2. Fle^r-Esque' (pro. pik-lmc^k'), Jitt^d f.o Jo-nn a pfMsrV^^ ;«o
ftiTC. 9. Pa.i]-ora'"iiia, ii comp^^te or ?f?hr^ mew m i^t?^ry direction,
5. Itev'«^r4e, an irre^ulf^ fm^n Of fhoxtghts stfcwmn^ in Tn^Aitatioa.
Bea-'liiai (pro. hes.'cYi&\), hnUi^ii.. Llt'er^'^l-ly, irccordin^ So i!iH first
and ffji-iural flvi^ftritn^ of un/rds. 3. PfBa'trate, lying a£ i^n^fA,
GrQT'el-er, a hat^ wreteA, Blbat'edT pttfff^d oti?. 7^ Tta-brut^ed,
re^Tic&i frC brutalitTf. Il^'mo-nyj fh^; ^f^esr p/ parls to i^.ch o/lhf^ iti
tirTi^ co7li.f.nfitt{i:m af tJtirtffs. E^'al-ia-ing, mitkin^ otui's onAi m ^j^ri^
NOTES. --The localities named in this selection are in the
vicinity of Haverhill, Mass., where the old Whittier homestead is
situated.
4. Claude Lonain (b. 1600. d. 1682), whose proper name was
Claude Gelee, was a celebrated landscape painter, born in
Champagne. Vosges, France.
Nicolas Poussin {b. 1594, d. 1665) was a French painter, who
became one of the most remarkable artists of his age. His fame
chiefly arises from his historical and mythological paintings.
DEFINITIONS, -L Tran'sient (pro. tran'shent), of short
duration, E'qui-nox, the time of year when the days and
nights are of equal length, i.e., about September 23d or
March list. Rigor, severity. 2. Pic-tur-esque' (pro. pik-lur-
csk'), fitted to form a pleasing picture. 3. Pan-o-ra'ma, a
complete or entire view in every direction. 5. Rev'er-ie, an
irregular train of thoughts occurring in meditation. Bes'tial
(pro. bes'chal), brutish. Lit'er-al-ly, according to the first
and natural meaning of words. 6. Pros'trale, lying at length.
Grov'el-er, a base wretch. Bloat'ed. puffed out. 7. Im-
brul'ed, reduced to brutality. Har'mo-ny, the fitness of parts
to each other in any combination of things. Re'al-iz-ing.
making one's own in experience. Mal-e-dic'tion, a curse.
262 ECLECTIC SERIES.
LXXXIIL CALLING THE ROLL,
L "CORPORAL GREEN!" the orderly cried;
"Here!" was the answer, loud and clear.
From the lips of a soldier standing near;
And "here!" was the word the next replied.
"Cyrus Drew!" and a silence fell;
This time no answer followed the call;
Only his rear man saw him fall,
Killed or wounded he could not tell.
2. There they stood in the fading light,
These men of battle, with grave, dark looks.
As plain to be read as open books,
While slowly gathered the shades of night.
The fern on the slope was splashed with blood.
And down in the corn, where the poppies grew,
Were redder stains than the poppies knew;
And crimson-dyed was the river's flood.
3. For the foe had crossed from the other side
That day, in the face of a murderous fire
That swept them down in its terrible ire;
And their lifeblood went to color the tide.
"Herbert Cline!" At the call there came
Two stalwart soldiers into the line.
Bearing between them Herbert Cline,
Wounded and bleeding, to answer his name.
4. "Ezra Kerr!" and a voice said "here!"
"Hiram Kerr!" but no man replied:
They were brothers, these two; the sad wind sighed.
And a shudder crept through the cornfield near.
FIFTH READER. 263
"Ephraim Deane!"--then a soldier spoke:
"Deane carried our regiment's colors," he said,
"When our ensign was shot; I left him dead,
Just after the enemy wavered and broke,
5. "Close to the roadside his body lies;
I paused a moment and gave him to drink;
He murmured his mother's name, I think;
And death came with it and closed his eyes."
T was a victory--yes; but it cost us dear;
For that company's roll, when called at night.
Of a hundred men who went into the fight.
Numbered but twenty that answered "here!"
—Shepherd.
LXXXIV, TURTLE SOUP,
Charles Frederick Briggs (b. 1804, d. 1877) was born on the
island of Nantucket. When quite young, however, he became a
resident of New York City. In 1845, in conjunction with Edgar A,
Poe, he began the publication of the "Broadway Journal;" he was
also connected with the "New York Times," and the "Evening
Mirror;" also as editor from 1 853 to 1 856 with "Putnam's
Magazine." Mr. Briggs wrote a few novels, some poetry, and
numerous little humorous tales and sketches. The following
selection is from "Working a Passage; or. Life on a Liner," one of
his best stories.
1. Among the luxuries which the captain had provided for
himself and passengers was a fine green turtle, which was not
likely to suffer from exposure to salt water, so it was reserved
until all the pigs, and sheep, and poultry had been eaten. A few
days before we arrived, it was determined to kill the turtle and
have a feast the next day,
2. Our cabin gentlemen had been long enough deprived of fresh
meats to make them cast lickerish glances towards their hard-
skinned friend, and there was a great smacking of lips the day
before he was killed- As I walked aft
264
ECLECTIC SERIES.
occasionally, I heard iheni congratulating themselves on their
prospective turtle soup and forcemeat balls; and one of them, to
heighten the luxury of the feast, ate nothing but a dry biscuit for
the twenty-four hours preceding, that he might be prepared to
devour his full share of the unctuous compound.
3. It was to be a gala day with them; and though it was not
champagne day, that falling on Saturday and this on Friday, they
agreed to have champagne a day in advance, that nothing should
be wanting lo give a finish to
. .^„<.y:■.:.ri?!!^^*:^,.r:^...-:L-■.
FIFTH READER. 265
iheir turtle. It happened to be a rougher day than usual when the
turtle was cooked, but they had become too well used to the
motion of the ship lo mind that.
4. It happened to be my turn at the wheel the hour before
dinner, and I had the tantalizing misery of hearing them laughing
and talking about their turtle, while I was hungry from want of dry
bread and salt meat. I had resolutely kept my thoughts from the
cabin during all the passage but once, and now I found my ideas
clustering round a tureen of turtle in spite of all my philosophy.
5. Confound them, if they had gone out of my hearing with
their exulting smacks, I should not have envied their soup, but
their hungry glee so excited my imagination that I could see
nothing through the glazing of the binnacle but a white plate with
a slice of lemon on the rim, a loaf of delicate bread, a silver spoon,
a napkin, two or three wine glasses of different hues and shapes,
and a water goblet clustering round it, and a stream of black, thick,
and fragrant turtle pouring into the plate.
6. By and by it was four bells: they dined at three. And all the
gentlemen, with the captain at their head, darted below into the
cabin, where their mirth increased when they caught sight of the
soup plates, "Hurry with the soup, steward," roared the captain.
"Coming, sir," replied the steward. In a few moments the cook
opened the door of his galley, and out came the delicious steam of
the turtle.
7. Then came the steward with a large covered tureen in his
hand, towards the cabin gangway. I forgot the ship for a moment
in looking at this precious cargo, the wheel slipped from my
hands, the ship broached to with a sudden jerk; the steward had
got only one foot upon the stairs, when this unexpected motion
threw him off his balance, and down he went by the run, the
tureen slipped from his hands, and part of its contents flew into the
lee scuppers, and the balance followed him in his fall.
266
ECLECTIC SERIES.
8. I laughed oulrigh). T enjoyed the turtle a thousand times more
than I should have done if i had eaten the whole of it. But I was
forced to restrain my mirth, for the next moment the steward ran
upon deck, followed by the captain, in a furious rage, threatening
if he caught him to throw him overboard. Not a spoonful of the
soup had been left in the coppers, for the steward had taken it all
away at once to keep it warm. In about an hour afterwards the
passengers came upon deck, looking more sober than I had seen
iheEii since we left Liverpool. They had dined upon cold ham.
]^]l, Gfij^ftT fir f/mn^lf/ fn sjikrUorij. Aft, In^^m? tA.ff .s^^rsi ^ ^J 'i-^c&^i,
Pro-jipiip'MTnt rftlfiiiaf/ to fhft /wfur*, I'Tir Mn'TTi^.atT ^Twai c^oj>j}&! jl^rii^
6. (jlal'ley^ ike f^Uchin ^/ a- ^hip, 7, 'J'u-reen'j tf iar^e ds^p vf-ssel
aw* cu: !hrn^(^h fhe nidf rtfii ship/or i'.arrffitfr^ irjf tdjater/rtini iha d^t^fc,
NOTE. --6. Four bells, i.e., two o'clock.
DEFlNTIONS.-l. Re-served', kept back, retained. 2. Lick'er.
ish, eager or greedy to swallow . Aft, toward the stern of a vessel.
Pro-spec'tive, relating to the future. Force'meat, meat chopped fine
and highly seasoned. Unc'tu-ous, fat. 5. Glaz'ing, glass or glass-
like substance. Bin'na-cle, a box containing the compass of a ship.
6. Gal'ley, the kitchen of a ship. 7. Tu-reen', a large deep vessel
for holding soup. Gang'way, a passageway. Lee. pertaining to the
side opposite that against which the wind blows. Scup'pers,
channels cut through the side of a ship for carrying off water from
the deck. Cop'pers, large copper boilers.
LXXXV, THE BEST KIND OF REVENGE.
I. Some years ago a warehouseman in Manchester, England,
published a scurrilous pamphlet, in which he endeavored to hold
up the house of Grant Brothers to ridicule. William Grant
remarked upon the occurrence that the man would live to repent of
what he had done: and this was conveyed by some talebearer to
the libeler, who said, "Oh, I suppose he thinks 1 shall some lime or
other be in his debt; but I will take good care of that." it happens.
FIFTH READER. 267
however, that a man in business can not always choose who shall
be his creditors. The pamphleteer became a bankrupt, and the
brothers held an acceptance of his which had been indorsed to
them by the drawer, who had also become a bankrupt.
2, The wantonly libeled men had thus become creditors of the
libeler! They now had it in their power to make him repent of his
audacity. He could not obtain his certificate without their
signature, and without it he could not enter into business again. He
had obtained the number of signatures required by the bankrupt
law except one. It seemed folly to hope that the firm of "the
brothers" would supply the deficiency. What! they who had
cruelly been made the laughingstock of the public, forget the
wrong and favor the wrongdoer? He despaired. But the claims of a
wife and children forced him at last to make the application-
Humbled by misery, he presented himself at the countinghouse of
the wronged.
3, Mr. William Grant was there alone, and his first words to the
delinquent were, "Shut the door, sir!" sternly uttered. The door
was shut, and the libeler stood trembling before the libeled. He
told his tale and produced his certificate, which was instantly
clutched by the injured merchant. "You wrote a pamphlet against
us once!" exclaimed Mr. Grant. The suppliant expected to see his
parchment thrown into the fire. But this was not its destination.
Mr. Grant took a pen, and writing something upon the document,
handed it back to the bankrupt. He, poor wretch, expected to see
"rogue, scoundrel, libeler," inscribed; but there was, in fair round
characters, the signature of the firm.
4, "We make it a rule," said Mr. Grant, "never to refuse signing
the certificate of an honest tradesman, and we have never heard
that you were anything else." The tears started into the poor man's
eyes. "Ah," said Mr. Grant, "my saying was true! I said you would
live to
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
repent writing that pamphlet. T did not mean it as a threat. T only
meant thai some day you would know us better, and be sorry you
had tried to injure us. I see you repent of it now." "I do, I do!" said
the grateful man: "I bitterly repent it." "Well, well, my dear
fellow, you know us now. How do you get on? What are you
going to do'!'" The poor man stated he had friends who could assist
him when his certificate was obtained. "But how are you off in the
meantime?"
5. And the answer was. that, having given up every farthing to
his creditors, he had been compelled to stint his family of even
common necessaries, that he might be enabled to pay the cost of
his certificate, "My dear fellow, this will not do; your family must
not suffer. Be kind enough to take this ten-pound note to your wife
from me. There, there, my dear fellow! Nay, do not cry; it will all
be well with you yet. Keep up your spirits, set to work like a man,
and you will raise your head among us yet." The overpowered
man endeavored in vain to express his thanks; the swelling in his
throat forbade words. He put his handkerchief to his face and went
out of the door, crying like a child.
Defisitionb-^ 1^ Wftrsli^JiiBe-TTitm (^Rglish \isa^ft). one v^o
ke^s o n'hoiesale siora /or woolen qoods^ Scur'ril-ouB, loic, mtran^
I-l'bel-er, ojie tcho ifefhinis fino^hBr malicioii^Jirf ft?/ a writintj, etc
2. Auda^'i-tVT '^d impUiience. Si^'tiai'taifl, t^ie Jiailie of a p^n^i
^i'cieii-ijy, ioani. 3. De-llii^'qiieTiit, an offender. Fdrch'nu^nt, sJteep
Qr ffoat sil:in prepared for wjriti'tiff i^xwi- 5* Stiiitj tt> ^im/.
NOTE.— 1. Acceptance. When a person upon whom a draft has
been made, writes his name across the face of it, the draft then
becomes "an acceptance." The person who makes the draft is
called "the drawer;" the person to whom the money is ordered
paid writes his name on the back of the draft and is called "an
indorser." Paper of this kind frequently passes from hand to hand,
so that there are several indorsers.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Ware'house-man (English usage), (?/if^
\vho keeps a wholesale store for woolen goods. Scur'ril-
ous, low, mean. Li'bel-er, one who defames another
nialiciously by a writing, etc 2. Au-dac'i-ty, bold
impudence. Sig'na-ture, the name of a person written with
his own hand, the name of a firm signed officially. De-
fi'cien-cy, want 3. De-lin'quenl, on offender. Parch'menl,
sheep or goat skin prepared for writing upon. 5. Stint, to
limit.
FIFTH READER. 269
LXXXVI. THE SOLDIER OF THE RHINE,
Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton (/?, 1808, d. 1877) was the
grand-dauffhter of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. She wrote verses
and plays at a very early age. "The Sorrows of Rosalie," published
in 1829, was written before she was seventeen years old. In 1827
she was married to the Hon. George Chappie Norton, The
marriage was an unhappy one, and they were divorced in 1836.
Her principal works are "The Undying One," "The Dream, and
Other Poems," "The Child of the Islands," "Sluarl of Dunleith, a
Romance," and "English Laws for English Women of the 19th
Century." She contributed extensively to the magazines and other
periodicals.
1.
A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers,
There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears;
But a comrade stood beside him, while his lifeblood ebbed away,
And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say.
The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand.
And he said: "I nevermore shall see my own, my native land;
Take a message and a token to some distant friends of mine.
For I was born at Bingen,— at Bingen on the Rhine.
2.
"Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around
To hear my mournful story in the pleasant vineyard ground.
That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done.
Full many a corse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun;
And, 'mid the dead and dying, were some grown old in wars,--
The death wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars;
But some were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline, -
And one had come from Bingen,— fair Bingen on the Rhine.
3.
"Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age.
For I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage.
For my father was a soldier, and, even when a child.
My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild;
270 ECLECTIC SERIES.
And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard,
1 let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword;
And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine.
On the cottage wall at Bingen,--calm Bingen on the Rhine.
4.
"Tell my sisler not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head,
When the troops come marching home again, with glad and gallant tread,
But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye,
For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die;
And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name
To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame.
And to hang the old sword in its place (my father's sword and mine),
For the honor of old Bingen,— dear Bingen on the Rhine.
5.
"There's another, --not a sister; in the happy days gone by.
You'd have known her by the merriment thai sparkled in her eye;
Too innocent for coquetry,— too fond for idle scorning, --
friend [ 1 fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning!
Tell her the last night of my life— {for, ere the moon be risen.
My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison).
1 dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine
On the vine-clad hills of Bingen, --fair Bingen on the Rhine.
6.
"I saw the blue Rhine sweep along: ! heard, or seemed to hear.
The German songs we used to sing, in chorus sweet and clear;
And down Ihe pleasant river, and up the slanting hill.
The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still;
And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed, with friendly talk,
Down many a palh beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk;
FIFTH READER.
271
And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine,—
But we'll meet no more at Bingen,— loved Bingen all the Rhine."
7.
His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse; his grasp was childish weak.
His eyes put on a dying look, --he sighed and ceased to speak.
His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled,--
The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead!
And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down
On the red sand of the battlefield, with bloodycorses strewn;
Yes. calmly on that dreadful scene, her pale light seemed to shine.
As it shone on distant Bingen, -fair Bingen on the Rhine.
Pkfinitionb, "L L€''giciU (pro. ie'jun), dhnsion of a^ nrirt^.
IKiaith (pro- dSrth)^ ^(rwck^. Sbbod* yJow^f owf. 2^ Cfii-ge, a
dead fiOc/jh 4, iStead'fa^t, Jimt^ r^sol^is. 5. Ci>qnct'iy, (ryfliwj in
tot^f. fi, Cho'rus, mt*SMJ irt i^hich mlt join. Y6re, old iimes.
NOTE---1. Bingen is pronounced Bing'en, not Bin'gen, nor
Bin'jen.
LXXXVIL THE WINGED WORSHIPERS.
Charles Sprague {b. 1791. d. 1875) was born in Boston, Mass.
He engaged in mercantile business when quite young, leaving
school for thai purpose. In 1 825, he was elected cashier of the
Globe Bank of Boston, which position he held until 1864. Mr.
Sprague has not been a prolific writer; but his poems, though few
in number, are deservedly classed among the best productions of
American poets. His chief poem is entitled "Curiosity."
1. Gay, guiltless pair.
What seek ye from the fields of heaven?
Ye have no need of prayer,
Ye have no sins to be forgiven.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Le'gion (jfro. le'jun), division of an army.
Dearth (pro. deilh), scarcity. Ebbed, flowed out. 2. Corse, a dead
body. 4. Stead'fasl,y?/m, resolute. 5. Co-quet'ry, trifling in love.
6. Cho'rus, music in which all join. Yore, old times.
272 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2, Why perch ye here.
Where mortals to their Maker bend?
Can your pure spirits fear
The God ye never could offend?
3, Ye never knew
The crimes for which we come to weep;
Penance is not for you,
Blessed wanderers of the upper deep,
4, To you 't is given
To wake sweet Nature's untaught lays;
Beneath the arch of heaven
To chirp away a life of praise.
5, Then spread each wing.
Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands,
And join the choirs that sing
In yon blue dome not reared with hands.
6, Or, if ye stay
To note the consecrated hour,
Teach me the airy way,
And let me try your envied power.
7, Above the crowd.
On upward wings could I but fly,
rd bathe in yon bright cJoud,
And seek the stars that gem the sky.
8, T were Heaven indeed.
Through fields of trackless light to soar,
On Nature's charms to feed.
And Nature's own great God adore.
FIFTH READER.
ri?»
Di;riKi"irm?iJ*. — 2. FGi'*:h, ia liglii or neille rtn an^Iany, 3-. Pen'-
s.n^ sTifferiTif^ for ^ti- i- lAy^^ snugs. 5. Chqir {pro. kvrlr), a col-
cf Gad, 3- Trictl&BF| hfijyin^ no path.
NOTE. --This little poem was addressed to two swallows that
flew into church during service.
LXXXVIIL THE PEEVISH WIFE,
Maria Edgeworth (b. 1767, d. 1849) was born near Reading.
Berkshire, England. In 1782 her father removed with his family to
Edgeworlhtown, Ireland, to reside on his estate. She lived here
during the remainder of her life, with the exception of occasional
short visits to England, Scotland, and France. She was educated
principally by her father, and they were colaborers in literaiy
productions, among which were "Essays on Practical Education,"
and the "Parent's Assistant." Her novels and tales were written
without assistance, and her fame as a writer rests on them. The
best known of these are "Castle Rackrent," "Moral Tales," "Tales
of Fashionable Life." "Frank," "The Modern Griselda," and
"Helen." Miss Edgeworth excels in the truthful delineation of
character, and her works are full of practical good sense and
genuine humor.
Mrs, Bollingbroke. I wish I knew what was the matter with me
this morning. Why do you keep the newspaper all to yourself, my
dear?
Mr. Bolitigbroke. Here it is for you. my dear; I have finished it.
Mrs. B. I humbly thank you for giving it to me when you have
done with it. I hate stale news. Is there anything in the paper? for I
can not be at the trouble of hunting it.
Mr. B. Yes, my dear; there are the marriages of two of our
friends.
Mrs.B. Who-^ Who?
Mr. B. Your friend, the widow Nettleby, to her cousin John
Nettleby.
DEFINITIONS. --2. Perch, to light or settle on anything. 3.
Pen'-ance, sujferlngfor sin. 4. Lays, songs. 5. Choir (pro.
kwir). a collection of singers. Dome, an arched structure
above a roof; hence, figuratively, the heavens. 6. Con'se-crat-
ed, set apart for the service of God. S. Track'less, having no
path ,
274 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Mrs. B. Mrs. Neltleby? Dear! Bui why did you lell me?
Mr. B. Because you asked me, my dear.
Mrs. B. Oh, but il is a hundred limes pleasanler lo read ihe
paragraph one's self. One loses all ihe pleasure of ihe surprise by
being told. Well, whose was the other marriage?
Mr. B. Oh, my dear, 1 will not tell you; I will leave you the
pleasure of the surprise.
Mrs. B. But you see I can not find it. How provoking you are,
my dear! Do pray lell me.
Mr. B. Our friend Mr, Granby.
Mrs. B. Mr. Granby? Dear! Why did you not make me guess? I
should have guessed him directly. But why do you call him our
friend? I am sure he is no friend of mine, nor ever was. I took an
aversion to him, as you remember, the very first day 1 saw him. I
am sure he is no friend of mine.
Mr. B. I am sorry for it, my dear; but 1 hope you will go and see
Mrs. Granby,
Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, my dear. Who was she?
Mr. B. Miss Cooke.
Mrs. B. Cooke? But, there are so many Cookes. Can't you
distinguish her any way? Has she no Christian name?
Mr. B. Emma, I think. Yes, Emma.
Mrs. B, Emma Cooke? No; il can not be my friend Emma
Cooke; for I am sure she was cut out for an old maid.
Mr. B. This lady seems to me to be cut out for a good wife.
Mrs. B. Maybe so. I am sure Til never go to see her. Pray, my
dear, how came you to see so much of her?
Mr. B. I have seen very little of her, my dear. I only saw her
two or three limes before she was married.
FIFTH READER. 275
Mrs. B. Then, my dear, how could you decide that she was cut
out for a good wife? I am sure you could not judge of her by
seeing her only two or three times, and before she was married.
Mr. B. Indeed, my love, that is a very just observation.
Mrs. B. I understand that compliment perfectly, and thank you
for it, my dear. 1 must own I can bear anything better than irony.
Mr. B. Irony? my dear, I was perfectly in earnest.
Mrs. B. Yes, yes; in earnest; so I perceive; I may naturally be
dull of apprehension, but my feelings are quick enough; I
comprehend loo well. Yes, it is impossble to judge of a woman
before marriage, or to guess what sort of a wife she will make. I
presume you speak from experience; you have been disappointed
yourself, and repent your choice.
Mr. B. My dear, what did I say that was like this? Upon my
word, I meant no such thing. I really was not thinking of you in
the least.
Mrs. B. No, you never think of me now. I can easily believe
that you were not thinking of me in the least.
Mr. B. But I said that only to prove to you that I could not be
thinking ill of you, my dear.
Mrs. B. But I would rather that you thought ill of me than that
you should not think of me at all.
Mr. B. Well, my dear, I will even think ill of you if that will
please you.
Mrs. B. Do you laugh at me? When it comes to this I am
wretched indeed. Never man laughed at the woman he loved. As
long as you had the slightest remains of love for me you could not
make me an object of derision; ridicule and love are incompatible,
absolutely incompatible. Well, 1 have done my best, my very best,
to make you happy, but in vain. 1 see I am not cut out to be a good
wife. Happy, happy Mrs. Granby!
276
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Mr. B. Happy, I liope sincerely, that she will be with my friend;
but my happiness must depend on you. my love; so, for my sake,
if not for your own, be composed, and do not torment yourself
with such fancies.
Mrs. B. I do wonder whether this Mrs. Granby is really that
Miss Emma Cooke. I'll go and see her diieclly; see her 1 must.
Mr. B. I am heartily glad of it, my dear; for I am sure a visit to
his wife will give my friend Granby real pleasure.
Mrs. B. I promise you. my dear. I do not go to give him
pleasure, or you either, but to satisfy my own curiosity,
DicPifiTTIOEre. — rron-y^ ian^ua^e intended t& cano^-Tf a 7ti.f.fi7tinff
Contrary to liS {•iAeml siffii.ifim'J^Ti. Dft-ji'^ioij, ^J^e a?i of iGH^hvig
•^ ill c(ftiiSMpt^ Iii-D0iiJ-p^-"i-bl3p ihai can nrf txiu io^^cr.
LXXXIX, THE RAINY DAY.
DEFINITIONS. --I'ron-y, language intended to convey a
meaning contraiy to its literal signification. De-ri'sion, the
act of laughing at in contempt. In-com-pat'i-ble, that can
not exist together.
1, The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weai^i
The vine still clings to the moldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall.
And the day is dark and dreary.
2. My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the moldering Past,
Bui the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast.
And the days are dark and dreary.
FIFTH READER. 277
3. Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
XC. BREAK, BREAK, BREAK.
--Longfellow.
Alfred Tennyson {b. 1809, d, 1892) was born in Somersby,
Lincolnshire, England. He graduated at Trinity College,
Cambridge. His first volume of poems was published in 1830, but
it made little impression and was severely criticised. On the
publication of his third series in 1842, his poetic genius began to
receive general recognition. Mr. Tennyson was made poet laureate
in 1850, and was regarded as the foremost living poet of England.
For several years his residence was on the Isle of Wight. In 1884,
he was raised to the peerage.
L Break, break, break.
On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me,
2. Oh, well for the fisherman's boy.
That he shouts with his sister at play!
Oh, well for the sailor lad.
That he sings in his boat on the bay!
3. And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But oh for the touch of a vanished hand.
And the sound of a voice that is still!
4. Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the lender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
278 ECLECTIC SERIES.
XCI. TRANSPORTATION AND PLANTING OF SEEDS.
Henry David Thoreau (b. 1817, d. 1862). This eccentnc
American author and naturalist was born at Concord, Mass, He
graduated at Harvard University in 1837. He was a good English
and classical scholar, and was well acquainted with the literature
of the East. His father was a maker of lead pencils, and he
followed the business for a time, but afterwards supported himself
mainly by teaching, lecturing, land surveying, and carpentering. In
1845 he built himself a small wooden house near Concord, on the
shore of Walden Pond, where he lived about two years. He was
intimate with Hawthorne, Emerson, and other literary celebrities.
His principal works are "Walden, or Life in the Woods," "A Week
on Concord and Merrimac Rivers," "Excursions," "Maine
Woods," "Cape Cod," "A Yankee in Canada," and "Letters to
Various Persons." In descriptive power Mr, Thoreau has few, if
any, superiors.
1. In all the pines a very thin membrane, in appearance much
like an insect's wing, grows over and around the seed, and
independent of it, while the latter is being developed within its
base. In other words, a beautiful thin sack is woven around the
seed, with a handle to it such as the wind can lake hold of, and it is
then committed to the wind, expressly that it may transport the
seed and extend the range of the species; and this it does as
effectually as when seeds are sent by mail, in a different kind of
sack, from the patent office.
2. There is, then, no necessity for supposing that the pines have
sprung up from nothing, and I am aware that I am not at all
peculiar in asserting that they come from seeds, though the mode
of their propagation by Nature has been but little attended to. They
are very extensively raised from the seed in Europe, and are
beginning to be here.
3. When you cut down an oak wood, a pine wood will not at
once spring up there unless there are, or have been quite recently,
seed-bearing pines near enough for the seeds to be blown from
them. But, adjacent to a forest of pines, if you prevent other crops
from growing there, you will
FIFTH READER. 279
surely have an extension of your pine forest, provided the soil is
suitable,
4. As I walk amid hickories, even in August, I hear the sound of
green pignuts falling from time to lime, cut off by the chickaree
over my head. In the fall I notice on the ground, either within or in
the neighborhood of oak woods, on all sides of the town, stout oak
twigs three or four inches long, bearing half a dozen empty acorn
cups, which twigs have been gnawed off by squirrels, on both
sides of the nuts, in order to make them more portable. The jays
scream and the red squirrels scold while you are clubbing and
shaking the chestnut trees, for they are there on the same errand,
and two of a trade never agree.
5. I frequently see a red or a gray squirrel cast down a green
chestnut burr, as I am going through the woods, and I used to
think, sometimes, that they were cast at me. In fact, they are so
busy about it, in the midst of the chestnut season, that you can not
stand long in the woods without hearing one fall.
6. A sportsman told me that he had, the day before— that was in
the middle of October--seen a green chestnut burr dropped on our
great river meadow, fifty rods from the nearest wood, and much
farther from the nearest chestnut tree, and he could not tell how it
came there. Occasionally, when cheslnutling in midwinter, I find
thirty or forty nuts in a pile, left in its gallery just under the leaves,
by the common wood mouse.
7. But especially, in the winter, the extent to which this
transportation and planting of nuts is carried on, is made apparent
by the snow. In almost every wood you will see where the red or
gray squirrels have pawed down through the snow in a hundred
places, sometimes two feet deep, and almost always directly to a
nut or a pine cone, as directly as if they had started from it and
bored upward, --which you and 1 could not have done. It would be
diffkrull for us to find one before the snow falls. Commonly,
280 ECLECTIC SERIES.
no doubt, they had deposited them there in the falL You wonder if
they remember the locaJities or discover them by the scent.
8. The red squirrel commonly has its winter abode in the earth
under a thicket of evergreens, frequently under a small clump of
evergreens in the midst of a deciduous wood. If there are any nut
trees, which still retain their nuts, standing at a distance without
the wood, their paths often lead directly to and from them. We,
therefore, need not suppose an oak standing here and there in the
wood in order to seed it, but if a few stand within twenty or thirty
rods of it, it is sufficient,
9. I think that I may venture to say that every white-pine cone
that falls to the earth naturally in this town, before opening and
losing its seeds, and almost every pitch-pine one thai falls at all, is
cut off by a squirrel; and they begin to pluck them long before
they are ripe, so that when the crop of white-pine cones is a small
one, as it commonly is, they cut off thus almost everyone of these
before it fairly ripens.
10. I think, moreover, that their design, if I may so speak, in
cutting them off green, is partly to prevent their opening and
losing their seeds, for these are the ones for which they dig
through the snow, and the only white-pine cones which contain
anything then. I have counted in one heap the cores of two
hundred and thirty-nine pitch-pine cones which had been cut off
and stripped by the red squirrel the previous winter.
1 1. The nuts thus left on the surface, or buried just beneath it,
are placed in the most favorable circumstances for germinating. I
have sometimes wondered how those which merely fell on the
surface of the earth got planted; but, by the end of December, I
find the chestnut of the same year partially mixed with the mold,
as it were, under the decaying and moldy leaves, where there is all
the moisture and manure they want, for the nuts fall fast. In a
FIFTH READER. 281
plentiful year a large proportion of the nuts are thus covered
loosely an inch deep, and are, of course, somewhat concealed
from squirrels-
12. One winter, when the crop had been abundant, I got, with
the aid of a rake, many quarts of these nuts as late as the tenth of
January; and though some bought at the store the same day were
more than half of them moldy, I did not find a single moldy one
among those which I picked from under the wet and moldy leaves,
where they had been snowed on once or twice. Nature knew how
to pack them best. They were still plump and tender. Apparently
they do not heat there, though wet. In the spring they are all
sprouting.
13. Occasionally, when threading the woods in the fall, you will
hear a sound as if some one had broken a twig, and, looking up,
see a jay pecking at an acorn, or you will see a flock of them at
once about it, in the lop of an oak, and hear them break it off.
They then fly to a suitable limb, and placing the acorn under one
foot, hammer away at it busily, making a sound like a
woodpecker's tapping, looking round from time to time to see if
any foe is approaching, and soon reach the meat, and nibble at it,
holding up their heads to swallow while they hold the remainder
very firmly with their claws. Nevertheless, it often drops to the
ground before the bird has done with it.
14. I can confirm what William Barton wrote to Wilson, the
ornithologist, that "The jay is one of the most useful agents in the
economy of nature for disseminating forest trees and other
nuciferous and hard-seeded vegetables on which they feed. In
performing this necessary duty they drop abundance of seed in
their flight over fields, hedges, and by fences, where they alight to
deposit them in the post holes, etc. It is remarkable what numbers
of young trees rise up in fields and pastures after a wet winter and
spring. These birds alone are capable in a few years' time to
replant all the cleared lands."
282
ECLECTIC SERIES.
15. T have noticed that squirrels also frequently drop nuts in
open land, which will still further account for the oaks and walnuts
which spring up in pastures; for, depend on it, every new tree
comes from a seed. When 1 examine the little oaks, one or two
years old, in such places. 1 invariably find the empty acorn from
which they sprung.
DeitI-Nitiok*. — 1. Mem'bra-Tie^ a iAin, sofi tissue fif i-nter^vtfen
prfiflti£!hri. 4- Porta-bk, c^rpaWe a/ ht^inij carried. 7. Tr5ns-
por-ta'ticn, the act c/ conve^tiff fi-am imp. pltn:e fi? ^jTioZ-her* ft. I>e-
]iab-iii|jt^ jrjjT-fluJiVd^T beginning to grtrw-r 14, C.JiT-ni-t.h5l'o-g'l5l"« imc
skUUd in tfie ifcietr<:e wJiich ireais of biTiI^\ K-ei>ii'oiiiy, ortierly
^ffsffra, DJM-sein'i-iikt-lng, ycciaffrrnj fur growih (md propa^fjiian^
N j-c;lf er-OLis^ hearing nafs.
XCIL SPRING AGAIN.
Celia Thaxter [b. 1836, d. 1894), whose maiden name was
Laighton, was born in Portsmouth, N.H. Much of her early life
was passed on While Island, one of a group of small islands,
called the Isles of Shoals, about ten miles from the shore, where
she lived in the lighthouse cottage. In 1867-68, she published, in
the "Atlantic Monthly," a number of papers on these islands,
which were afterwards bound in a separate volume. Mrs. Thaxter
was a contributor to several periodicals, and in strength and beauty
of style has few equals among American writers. The following
selection is from a volume of her poems entitled "Drift Weed."
1. I stood on the height in the stillness
And the planet's outline scanned.
And half was drawn with the line of sea
And half with Ihe far blue land.
2. With wings that caught the sunshine
In the crystal deeps of the sky.
Like shapes of dreams, the gleaming gulls
Went slowly floating by.
DEFINITIONS. -1. Mem'brane, a thin, soft tissue of
intevwQven fibers . 2. Prop-a-ga'lion, the continuanee of a kind
by successive production. 4. Port'a-ble, capable of being
carried. 7. Trans-por-ta'tion. the act of conveying from one
place to another. 8- De-cid'u-ous, said of trees whose leaves
fall in autumn. 1 1. Ger'mi-nal-ing. sprouting, beginning to
grow. 14. Or-ni-thol'o-gisl, one skilled in the science which
treats of birds. E-con'o-my, orderly system^ Dis-sem'i-nat-ing.
scattering for growth and propagation. Nu-cif 'er-ous, bearing
nuts.
FIFTH READER. 283
3. Below me the boats in the harbor
Lay still, with their white sails furled;
Sighing away into silence.
The breeze died off the world.
4. On the weather-worn, ancient ledges
Peaceful the calm light slept;
And the chilly shadows, lengthening,
Slow to the eastward crept.
5. The snow still lay in the hollows,
And where the salt waves met
The iron rock, all ghastly white
The thick ice glimmered yet.
6. But the smile of the sun was kinder.
The touch of the air was sweet;
The pulse of the cruel ocean seemed
Like a human heart to beat.
7. Frost-locked, storm-beaten, and lonely.
In the midst of the wintry main,
Our bleak rock yet the tidings heard:
"There shall be spring again!"
8. Worth all the waiting and watching,
The woe that the winter wrought,
Was the passion of gratitude that shook
My soul at the blissful thought!
9. Soft rain and flowers and sunshine.
Sweet winds and brooding skies,
Quick-flilting birds to fill the air
With clear delicious cries;
284 ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. And the warm sea's mellow murmur
Resounding day and night;
A thousand shapes and tints and tones
Of manifoJd delight,
1 1 . Nearer and ever nearer
Drawing with every day!
But a little longer to wait and watch
'Neath skies so cold and gray;
12. And hushed is the roar of the bitter north
Before the might of the spring,
And up the frozen slope of the world
Climbs summer, triumphing.
XCIIL RELIGION THE ONLY BASIS OF SOCIETY.
William Ellery Channing (p. 1780, d. 1842), an eminent
divine and orator, was born at Newport, R.L He graduated from
Harvard with the highest honors in 1798, and, in 1803, he was
made pastor of the Federal Street Church, Boston, with which he
maintained his connection until his death. Towards the close of his
life, being much enfeebled, he withdrew almost entirely from his
pastoral duties, and devoted himself to literature. Dr. Channing's
writings are published in six volumes, and are mainly devoted to
theology,
1. Religion is a social concern; for it operates powerfully on
society, contributing in various ways to its stability and prosperity.
Religion is not merely a private affair; the community is deeply
interested in its diffusion; for it is the best support of the virtues
and principles, on which the social order rests. Pure and undefiled
religion is to do good; and it follows, very plainly, that if God be
the Author and Friend of society, then, the recognition of him
must enforce all social duty, and enlightened piety must give its
whole strength to public order.
FIFTH READER. 285
2. Few men suspect, perhaps no man comprehends, the extent
of the support given by religion to every virtue. No man, perhaps,
is aware how much our moral and social sentiments are fed from
this fountain; how powerless conscience would become without
the belief of a God; how palsied would be human benevolence,
were there not the sense of a higher benevolence to quicken and
sustain it; how suddenly the whole social fabric would quake, and
with what a fearful crash it would sink into hopeless ruin, were the
ideas of a Supreme Being, of accountableness and of a future life
to be utterly erased from every mind.
3. And, let men thoroughly believe that they are the work and
sport of chance; that no superior intelligence concerns itself with
human affairs; that all their improvements perish forever at death;
that the weak have no guardian, and the injured no avenger; that
there is no recompense for sacrifices to uprightness and the public
good; that an oath is unheard in heaven; that secret crimes have no
witness but the perpetrator; that human existence has no purpose,
and human virtue no unfailing friend; that this brief life is
everything to us, and death is total, everlasting extinction; once let
them thoroughly abandon religion, and who can conceive or
describe the extent of the desolation which would follow?
4. We hope, perhaps, that human laws and natural sympathy
would hold society together. As reasonably might we believe that
were the sun quenched in the heavens, our torches would
illuminate, and our fires quicken and fertilize the creation. What is
there in human nature to awaken respect and tenderness, if man is
the unprotected insect of a day? And what is he more, if atheism
be true?
5. Erase all thought and fear of God from a community, and
selfishness and sensuality would absorb the whole man. Appetite,
knowing no restraint, and suffering, having no solace or hope,
would trample in scorn on the restraints
286
ECLECTIC SERIES.
of human laws. Virtue, duly, principle, would be mocked and
spurned as unmeaning sounds. A sordid seif-inleresl would
supplant every feeling; and man would become, in fact, what the
theory in atheism declares him to be, --a companion for brutes.
Detinitiowa, -^ I- Com-mr/tii-ty,. nt^i^fy aC far^fi, the pv^lic.
Dttt-iu'^iQu^ extension, spreiX'L Eii-HghfiMied. ^l^i?atcti btf knofdedga
>&nfj TetiffiifTi^ ?" FSVrifi, oriy .^stem compiisetf nf conntt'-tfid jifirt't.
E-rSfied^ Matted imL 3. Kr^pe-trsi-toT, On? wff^ commH^ a crimff.
Eis-tUic'Liou, a pul&iff etTt evti^ lo. 4. Mr'tl-Jir^, to mnk^ /f^iif/id.
A thu-l^iij, iiisbciief in God^ ^u-m-^'i-ty^ indfilQ^itci in unmvd
XCIV. ROCK ME TO SLEEP.
Elizabeth Akers Allen [h. 1832,--) was born at Strong, Maine,
and passed her childhood amidst the picturesque scenery of that
neighborhood. She lost her mother when very young, but inherited
her grace and delicacy of thought. Shortly after her mother's death,
her father removed lo Farmington. Maine, a town noted for its
literary people. Mrs. Allen's early pieces appeared over the
pseudonym of "Florence Percy." Her first verses appeared when
she was twelve years old; and her first volume, entitled "Forest
Buds from the Woods of Maine." was Published in 1856. For
some years she was assistant editor of the "Portland Transcript."
The following selection was claimed by five different persons,
who attempted to steal the honor of its composition.
\. Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight.
Make me a child again, just for to-night!
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care.
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;—
Rock me lo sleep, mother,--rock me to sleep!
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Com-mu'ni-ty, society at large, the
public. Dif-fu'sion, extension, spread. En-light'ened,
elevated by knowledge and religion. 2. Fab'ric, any system
composed of connected parts. Erased', blotted out. 3. Per'pe-
tra-tor, one who commits a crime, Ex-tinc'tion, a putting an
end to. 4. Fer'ti-lize, to make fruitful. A'the-ism, disbelief in
God. Sen-su-al'i-ty, indulgence in animal pleasure.
FIFTH READER. 287
2. Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years!
I am so weary of toil and of tears;
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain;
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay, --
Weary of flinging my soul wealth away;
Weary of sowing for others to reap;--
Rock me to sleep, mother,--rock me to sleep!
3. Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue.
Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between:
Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I to-night for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;--
Rock me to sleep, mother,--rock me to sleep!
4. Over my heart in the days that are flown,
No love like mother love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures.
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul, and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms o'er my heavy lids creep;--
Rock me to sleep, mother, --rock me to sleep!
5. Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold.
Fall on your shoulders again, as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead to-night.
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more.
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;--
Rock me to sleep, mother,--rock me to sleep!
288 ECLECTIC SERIES.
6, Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened your lullaby song;
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream!
Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep:--
Rock me to sleep, mother,--rock me to sleep!
XCV. MAN AND THE INFERIOR ANIMALS.
1 . The chief difference between man and the other animals
consists in this, that the former has reason, whereas the latter have
only instinct; but, in order to understand what we mean by the
terms reason and instinct, it will be necessary to mention three
things in which the difference very distinctly appears.
2. Let us first, to bring the parties as nearly on a level as
possible, consider man in a savage stale, wholly occupied, like the
beasts of the field, in providing for the wants of his animal nature;
and here the first distinction that appears between them is the use
of implements. When the savage provides himself with a hut or a
wigwam for shelter, or that he may store up his provisions, he
does no more than is done by the rabbit, the beaver, the bee, and
birds of every species.
3. But the man can not make any progress in this work without
tools; he must provide himself with an ax even before he can cut
down a tree for its timber; whereas these animals form their
burrows, their cells, or their nests, with no other tools than those
with which nature has provided them. In cultivating the ground,
also, man can do nothing without a spade or a plow; nor can he
reap what he has sown till he has shaped an implement with which
to
FIFTH READER. 289
cut clown his harvest. But the inferior animals provide for
themselves and their young without any of these things,
4. Now for the second distinction. Man, in all his operations,
makes mistakes; animals make none. Did you ever hear of such a
thing as a bird sitting on a twig lamenting over her half-finished
nest and puzzling her little head to know how to complete it? Or
did you ever see the cells of a beehive in clumsy, irregular shapes,
or observe anything like a discussion in the little community, as if
there were a difference of opinion among the architects?
5. The lower animals are even better physicians than we are; for
when they are ill, they will, many of them, seek out some
particular herb, which they do not, use as food, and which
possesses a medicinal quality exactly suited to the complaint;
whereas, the whole college of physicians will dispute for a century
about the virtues of a single drug.
6. Man undertakes nothing in which he is not more or less
puzzled; and must try numberless experiments before he can bring
his undertakings to anything like perfection; even the simplest
operations of domestic life are not well performed without some
experience; and the term of man's life is half wasted before he has
done with his mistakes and begins to profit by his lessons.
7. The third distinction is that animals make no improvements;
while the knowledge, and skill, and the success of man are
perpetually on the increase. Animals, in all their operations, follow
the first impulse of nature or thai instinct which God has
implanted in them. In all they do undertake, therefore, their works
are more perfect and regular than those of man-
8. But man, having been endowed with the faculty of thinking
or reasoning about what he does, is enabled by patience and
industry to correct the mistakes into which he at first falls, and to
go on constantly improving. A bird's
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ECLECTIC SERIES.
nest is, indeed, a perfect structure; yet the nest of a swallow of the
nineteenth century is not at all more commodious or decani than
those that were built amid the rafters of Noah's ark. But if we
compare the wigwam of the savage with the temples and palaces
of ancient Greece and Rome, we then shall see to what man's
mistakes, rectified and improved upon, conduct him.
9. "When Ihe vasi sun shall veil his golden light
Deep in the gloom of everlasting night;
When wild, destructive flames shall wrap the skies.
When ruin triumphs, and when nature dies;
Man shall alone the wreck of worlds survive;
'Mid falling spheres, immortal man shall live."
-Jan e Taylor.
DEFTKrrroNS. — 2. Dis-t'ine'tion, a point of difference. lm''pl'&-
Afii^s in tfic earth wtfire auitnals Uydge, 4. DLs-Cus'sioiii iha uct of
/itrRraftfld Mtfi an.\j ^ift^ guiH^t/^^ eic, Ffe'ul-ty, sAiii\^ co -oci or
XCVL THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT.
John Godfrey Saxe {b, 1816, d, 1887), an American humorist,
lawyer, and journalist, was born at Highgate, Vl. He graduated at
Middlebury College in 1839; was admitted to the bar in 1843; and
practiced law until 1850, when he became editor of the
"Burlington Sentinel/' In 1851, he was elected Stale's attorney.
"Progress, a Satire, and Other Poems/' his first volume, was
published in 1849. and several other volumes of great merit attest
his originality. For genial humor and good-natured satire, Saxe's
writings rank among the best of their kind, and are very popular.
1. It was six men of Indostan,
To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the elephant,
{Though all of them were blind,)
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.
DEFINITIONS. -2. Dis-imcWou, a point of difference.
Im'ple-ments. utensils, tools. Wigwam, an Indian hut 3.
Burrows, holes in the earth where animals lodge. 4. Dis-
cus'sion, the act of arguing a point, debate. 5. Me-dic'i-nal,
healing. 8. En-dovjQd\ furnished with any gift, quality, etc.
Fac'ul-ty, ability to act or perform. Rec'ti-fied, corrected.
FIFTH READER. 291
2. The first approached the elephant.
And, happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
"God bJess me! but the elephant
Is very like a wall!"
3. The second, feeling of the tusk.
Cried: "Ha! what have we here,
So very round, and smooth, and sharp?
To me 'l is very clear,
This wonder of an elephant
Is very like a spear!"
4. The third approached the animal.
And, happening to lake
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up he spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant
Is very like a snake!"
5. The fourth reached out his eager hand.
And fell about the knee:
"What most this wondrous beast is like.
Is very plain," quoth he;
" T is clear enough the elephant
Is very like a tree!"
6. The fifth, who chanced to touch the ear.
Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most:
Deny the fact who can.
This marvel of an elephant
Is very like a fan!"
292 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7, The sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant
Is very like a rope!"
8. And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
And all were in the wrong!
XCVIL A HOME SCENE,
Donald Grant Mitchell (b. 1822,--). This popular American
writer was born in Norwich, Conn, He graduated at Yale in 1841.
In 1844 he went to England, and, after traveling through that
country on foot, spent some time on the continent. His first
volume, "Fresh Gleanings, or a New Sheaf from the Old Fields of
Continental Europe, by Ik Marvel," was published in 1847, soon
after his return home. He revisited Europe in 1 848. On his return,
he published "The Battle Summer," Mr. Mitchell has contributed
to the "Knickerbocker Magazine," the "Atlantic Monthly," and
several agricultural journals. His most popular works are "The
Reveries of a Bachelor," 1850, and "Dream Life," 1851. Besides
these, he has written "My Farm of Edgewood," "Wet Days at
Edgewood," "Doctor Johns," a novel "Rural Studies," and other
works. He is a charming writer. In 1853 he was appointed United
Slates consul at Venice. In 1855 he settled on a farm near New
Haven, Conn., where he now resides. The following selection is
from "Dream Life."
1, Little does the boy know, as the tide of years drifts by,
floating him out insensibly from the harbor of his home, upon the
great sea of life,— what joys, what opportunities, what affections,
are slipping from him into the shades of that inexorable Past,
where no man can go, save on the wings of his dreams.
FIFTH READER. 293
2. Little does he think, as he leans upon the lap of his mother,
with his eye turned to her, in some earnest pleading for a fancied
pleasure of the hour, or in some important story of his griefs, that
such sharing of his sorrows, and such sympathy with his wishes,
he will find nowhere again.
3. Little does he imagine that the fond sister Nelly, ever
thoughtful of his pleasures, ever smiling away his griefs, will soon
be beyond the reach of either; and that the waves of the years
which come rocking so gently under him will soon toss her far
away, upon the great swell of life.
4- But no\v\ you are there. The fire light glimmers upon the
walls of your cherished home. The big chair of your father is
drawn to its wonted corner by the chimney side; his head, just
touched with gray, lies back upon its oaken top. Opposite sits your
mother: her figure is thin, her look cheerful, yet subdued;--her arm
perhaps resting on your shoulder, as she talks to you in tones of
tender admonition, of the days that are to come.
5. The cat is purring on the hearth; the clock that ticked so
plainly when Charlie died is ticking on the mantel still. The great
table in the middle of the room, with its books and work, waits
only for the lighting of the evening lamp, to see a return to its
stores of embroidery and of story.
6. Upon a little stand under the mirror, which catches now and
then a flicker of the fire light, and makes it play, as if in wanton,
upon the ceiling, lies that big book, reverenced of your New
England parents--lhe Family Bible. It is a ponderous, square
volume, with heavy silver clasps, that you have often pressed open
for a look at its quaint, old pictures, for a study of those prettily
bordered pages, which lie between the Testaments, and which
hold the Family Record.
7. There are the Births;--your father's and your mother's; it
seems as if they were born a long time ago; and even your own
date of birth appears an almost incredible distance back.
294 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Then there are the Marriages;--on1y one as yet; and your mother's
name looks oddly to you: it is hard to think of her as anyone else
than your doting parent.
8. Last of all come the Deaths;--only one. Poor Charlie! How it
looks!--" Died, 12 September, 18—, Charles Henry, aged four
years." You know just how it looks. You have turned to it often;
there you seem to be joined to him, though only by the turning of
a leaf.
9. And over your thoughts, as you look at that page of the
Record, there sometimes wanders a vague, shadowy fear, which
will come, --that your own name may soon be there. You try to
drop the notion, as if it were not fairly your own; you affect to
slight il, as you would slight a boy who presumed on your
acquaintance, but whom you have no desire to know.
10. Yet your mother--how strange it is!--has no fears of such
dark fancies. Even now, as you stand beside her, and as the
twilight deepens in the room, her low, silvery voice is stealing
upon your ear, telling you that she can not be long with you;--that
the time is coming, when you must be guided by your own
judgment, and struggle with the world unaided by the friends of
your boyhood.
11. There is a little pride, and a great deal more of anxiety, in
your thoughts now, as you look steadfastly into the home blaze,
while those delicate fingers, so tender of your happiness, play with
the locks upon your brow. To struggle with the world,— that is a
proud thing; to struggle alone,— there lies the doubt! Then crowds
in swift upon the calm of boyhood the first anxious thought of
youth.
12. The hands of the old clock upon the mantel that ticked off
the hours when Charlie sighed and when Charlie died, draw on
toward midnight. The shadows that the fireflame makes grow
dimmer and dimmer. And thus il is, that Home, --boy home, passes
away forever,--like the swaying of a pendulum, --like the fading of
a shadow on the floor.
FIFTH READER.
295
Uefikitiokb. — 1. In-fiaL'or-a-ble^ not to &(? chtingsd, 4, W^istW,
accmlamsd. Ad-mo-nl'tion (jpro. ad-mo-nSsh'un), ccjiflS^e/iNi/ u^prnjuf
favf.i or irrfir. ff. Piju'der-oii^, rssi/ ^^jil-;^, Quiiiit (p'O, kwLciLj,
odif dnfi {ijtii^iie. 1. lTL^rti;i''i-b]e, impiimffle to he fjeiini'm!. DUV-
ing, lovmif io ^xcesF. &. Yi^ue (pro, Tflg-), indejliiite. Pre-griried'^p
XCVIIL THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS.
Thomas Moore (b. \119. d. 1852) was born in Dublin. Ireland,
and he was educated at Trinity College in thai city. In 1799, he
entered the Middle Temple, London, as a student of law. Soon
after the publication of his first poetical productions, he was sent
to Bermuda in an official capacity. He subsequently visited the
United Slates. Moore's most famous works are: "Lalla Rookh." an
Oriental romance, 1817; "The Loves of the Angels," 1823; and
"Irish Melodies," 1834; a "Life of Lord Byron." and "The
Epicurean, an Eastern Tale." "Moore's excellencies," says Dr.
Angus, "consist in the gracefulness of his thoughts, the wit and
fancy of his allusions and imagery, and ihe music and refinement
of his versification."
1. Oft in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me.
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me:
The smiles, the tears
Of boyhood's years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone.
Now dimmed and gone.
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus in ihe stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me.
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
DEFINITIONS. -1. In-ex'or-a-ble, not to be changed. 4.
Wont'ed, accustomed. Ad-mo-ni'tion {pro. ad-mo'nish'un),
counseling against fault or error. 13. Pon'der-ous, very heavy.
Quaint {pro. kwant), odd and antique. 7. In-cred'i-ble,
impossible to be believed. Dot'ing, loving to excess. 9. Vague
{pro. vag), indefinite. Pre-sumed', pushed upon or intruded in
an impudent manner.
296 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. When I remember all
The friends so linked together
I've seen around me fall
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled
Whose garlands dead.
And all but he departed.
Thus in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me.
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
XCIX. A CHASE IN THE ENGLISH CHANNEL,
James Fenimore Cooper (/?. 1789, d. 1851). This celebrated
American novelist was born in Burlington, N.J. His father
removed to the stale of New York about 1790, and founded
Cooperslown, on Otsego Lake. He studied three years at Yale, and
then entered the navy as a common sailor. He became a
midshipman in 1806, and was afterwards promoted to the rank of
lieutenant; but he left the service in 1 8 H . His first novel,
"Precaution," was published in 1819; his best work, "The Spy," a
tale of the Revolutionary War, in 1821. The success of "The Spy"
was almost unprecedented, and its author at once took rank among
the most popular writers of the day. "The Pilot" and "The Red
Rover" are considered his best sea novels. "The Pioneers," "The
Last of the Mohicans," "The Prairie," "The Pathfinder," and "The
Deerslayer" are among the best of his tales of frontier life. The
best of his novels have been translated into nearly all of the
European languages, and into some of those of Asia. "The
creations of his genius," says Bryant, "shall survive through
centuries to come, and only perish with our language." The
following selection is from "The Pilot."
1. The ship which the American frigate had now to oppose, was
a vessel of near her own size and equipage; and when Griffith
looked at her again, he perceived that
FIFTH READER. 297
she had made her preparations to assert her equality in manful
fight.
2. Her sails had been gradually reduced to the usual quantity,
and, by certain movements on her decks, the lieutenant and his
constant attendant, the Pilot, well understood that she only wanted
to lessen the distance a few hundred yards to begin the action.
"Now spread everything," whispered the stranger.
3. Griffith applied the trumpet to his mouth, and shouted, in a
voice that was carried even to his enemy, "Let fall--out with your
booms--sheet home-- hoist away of everything!"
4. The inspiring cry was answered by a universal bustle. Fifty
men flew out on the dizzy heights of the different spars, while
broad sheets of canvas rose as suddenly along the masts, as if
some mighty bird were spreading its wings. The Englishman
instantly perceived his mistake, and he answered the artifice by a
roar of artillery. Griffith watched the effects of the broadside with
an absorbing interest as the shot whistled above his head; but
when he perceived his masts untouched, and the few unimportant
ropes, only, that were cut, he replied to the uproar with a burst of
pleasure.
5. A few men were, however, seen clinging with wild frenzy to
the cordage, dropping from rope to rope, like wounded birds
fluttering through a tree, until they fell heavily into the ocean, the
sullen ship sweeping by them in a cold indifference. At the next
instant, the spars and masts of their enemy exhibited a display of
men similar to their own, when Griffith again placed the trumpet
to his mouth, and shouted aloud, "Give it to them; drive them from
their yards, boys; scatter them with your grape; unreeve their
rigging!"
6. The crew of the American wanted but littJe encouragement to
enter on this experiment with hearty good will, and the close of his
cheering words was uttered amid
298 ECLECTIC SERIES.
the deafening roar of his own cannon. The Pilot had, however,
mistaken the skill and readiness of their foe; for, notwithstanding
the disadvantageous circumstances under which the Englishman
increased his sail, the duty was steadily and dexterously
performed.
7. The two ships were now running rapidly on parallel lines,
hurling at each other their instruments of destruction with furious
industry, and with severe and certain loss to both, though with no
manifest advantage in favor of either. Both Griffith and the Pilot
witnessed, with deep concern, this unexpected defeat of their
hopes; for they could not conceal from themselves that each
moment lessened their velocity through the water, as the shot of
the enemy stripped the canvas from the yards, or dashed aside the
lighter spars in their terrible progress.
8. "We find our equal here," said Griffith to the stranger. "The
ninety is heaving up again like a mountain; and if we continue to
shorten sail at this rate, she will soon be down upon us!"
"You say true, sir," returned the Pilot, musing, "the man shows
judgment as well as spirit; but--"
9. He was interrupted by Merry, who rushed from the forward
part of the vessel, his whole face betokening the eagerness of his
spirit and the importance of his intelligence. --
"The breakers!" he cried, when nigh enough to be heard amid
the din; "we are running dead on a ripple, and the sea is white not
two hundred yards ahead."
10. The Pilot jumped on a gun, and, bending to catch a glimpse
through the smoke, he shouted, in those clear, piercing tones, that
could be even heard among the roaring of the cannon, --
"Port, port your helm! we are on the Devil's Grip! Pass up the
trumpet, sir; port your helm, fellow; give it to them, boys--give it
to the proud English dogs!"
1 1. Griffith unhesitatingly relinquished the symbol of his
FIFTH READER. 299
rank, fastening his own firm look on the calm but quick eye of the
Pilot, and gathering assurance from the high confidence he read in
the countenance of the stranger. The seamen were too busy with
their cannon and the rigging lo regard the new danger; and the
frigate entered one of the dangerous passes of the shoals, in the
heat of a severely contested battle.
12. The wondering looks of a few of the older sailors glanced at
the sheets of foam that flew by ihem, in doubt whether the wild
gambols of the waves were occasioned by the shot of the enemy,
when suddenly the noise of cannon was succeeded by the sullen
wash of the disturbed element, and presently the vessel glided out
of her smoky shroud, and was boldly steering in the center of the
narrow passages.
13. For ten breathless minutes longer the Pilot continued to
hold an uninterrupted sway, during which the vessel ran swiftly by
ripples and breakers, by streaks of foam and darker passages of
deep water, when he threw down his trumpet and exclaimed--
"What threatened to be our destruction has proved our
salvation. --Keep yonder hill crowned with wood one point open
from the church tower at its base, and steer east and by north; you
will run through these shoals on that course in an hour, and by so
doing you will gain five leagues of your enemy, who will have to
double their trail."
14. Every officer in the ship, after the breathless suspense of
uncertainty had passed, rushed lo those places where a view might
be taken of their enemies. The ninety was still steering boldly
onward, and had already approached the two-and-thirty, which lay
a helpless wreck, rolling on the unruly seas that were rudely
tossing her on their wanton billows. The frigate last engaged was
running along the edge of the ripple, with her torn sails flying
loosely in the air, her ragged spars tottering in the breeze, and
everything above her hull exhibiting the confusion of a sudden and
unlooked-for check to her progress.
300
ECLECTIC SERIES.
15. The exulting launls and mirthful congratulations of the
seamen, as they gazed at the English ships, were, however, soon
forgotten in the attention that was required to their own vessel.
The drums beat the retreat, the guns were lashed, the wounded
again removed, and every individual able to keep the deck was
required to lend his assistance in repairing the damages to the
frigate, and securing her masts.
16. The promised hour carried the ship safely through all the
dangers, which were much lessened by daylight; and by the time
the sun had begun to fall over the land. Griffith, who had not
quitted the deck during the day, beheld his vessel once more
cleared of the confusion of the chase and battle, and ready to meet
another foe.
ii?€ni^fd<^ht io /ony-Jfiur ffUTVs, ^trr^iutfed in tmo thra ati f^ach side,
iLq^ui-pa^ (pro. ek'wi-paj), Jumiiurs^ yttCiny otit. 4. Ar'ti-fln^
ortf sid^ rtf<i skijij abrti^ and below, at iLe sams fims. 7r Mfliii'i-fest^
^fitiJtdGiicet G&urfit/e. 13< Swaj, cii-rUrfili Tide.
NOTES. --2. The Pilot, who appears in this story, under
disguise, is John Paul Jones, a celebrated American naval officer
during the Revolution. He was born in Scotland, in 1747, and was
apprenticed when only twelve years old as a sailor. He was
familiar with the waters about the British Islands, and during part
of the war he hovered about their coasts in a daring way, capturing
many vessels, often against heavy odds, and causing great terror to
the enemy.
8, The ninety ^ refers to a large ninety-gun ship, part of a fleet
which was chasing the American vessel.
10. The Devil's Grip; the name of a dangerous reef in the
English Channel.
13. One point open. Directions for steering, referring to the
compass.
14. The t\vo-and-thirty\ i.e., another of the enemy's ships,
carrying thirty-two guns.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1 . Frig'ate, a war vessel, usually canying
from twenty-eight to forty -four guns, arranged in two tiers on
each side. Eq'ui-page {pro. Gk'v/i-pn}), furniture, fitting out. 4.
Ar'ti-fice. skillful contrivance, ^n'ci. Broad'side, a discharge
of all the guns on one side of a ship, above and below, at the
same time. 7. Man'i-fest, visible to the eye, apparent. 1 1. As-
sur'ance {pro. ^-shur'^ns), full confidence, courage. 13. Sway,
control, rule.
FIFTH READER. 301
C, BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE.
Charles Wolfe (b. 1791, d. 1823), an Irish poet and clergyman,
was born in Dublin. He was educated in several schools, and
graduated at the university of his native city. He was ordained in
1817, and soon became noted for his zeal and energy as a
clergyman. His literary productions were collected and published
in 1825. "The Burial of Sir John Moore," one of the finest poems
of its kind in the English language, was written in 1817, and first
appeared in the "Newry Telegraph," a newspaper, with the
author's initials, but without his knowledge. Byron said of this
ballad that he would rather be the author of it than of any one ever
written.
L Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note.
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
2. We buried him darkly, at dead of night.
The sods with our bayonets turning.
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light.
And the lantern dimly burning.
3. No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest.
With his martial cloak around him.
4. Few and short were the prayers we said.
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
5. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed.
And smoothed down his lonely pillow.
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head.
And we far away on the billow!
302
ECLECTIC SERIES.
6. Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reck, if they'll let him sleep on
In a grave where a Briton has laid him.
7. But half of our heavy task was done,
When the clock struck the hour for retiring
And we heard the distant random gun
Thai the foe was sullenly firing.
8. Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame, fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory!
TJiTFTNiTroNa. — S. MHr^tial (j^nj- fn^rthal^ miUtrirr}. fl. Up-
K^k, io take h-c^, i^ care. 7* ^Jji^doiu, toiihi^al Jix^*i ^im or par^
poaey le^l to cftancs.
NOTE. -Sir John Moore [h. 176Krf. 1809) was a celebrated
British general. He was appointed commander of the British forces
in Spain, in the war against Napoleon, and fell at the battle of
Corunna, by a cannon shot. Marshal Soult, the opposing French
commander, caused a monument to be erected to his memory. The
British government has also raised a monument to him in St.
Paul's Cathedral, while his native city, Glasgow, honors him with
a bronze statue.
DEFINITIONS. -3. Mar'tial [pro. mar'shal), military. 6.
Upbraid', to charge with something wrong or disgraceful,
to reproach. Reck, to take heed, to care. 1 . Ran'dom,
without fixed aim or purpose^ left to chance.
CL LITTLE VICTORIES.
I. "O Mother, now that I have lost my limb, I can never be a
soldier or a sailor; I can never go round the world!" And Hugh
burst into tears, now more really afflicted than he had ever been
yet. His mother sat on the bed beside him, and wiped away his
tears as they
FIFTH READER. 303
flowed, while he told her, as well as his sobs would lei him, how
long and how much he had reckoned on going round the world,
and how little he cared for anything else in future; and now this
was the very thing he should never be able to do!
2. He had practiced climbing ever since he could remember,
and now this was of no use; he had practiced marching, and now
he should never march again. When he had finished his complaint,
there was a pause, and his mother said,
"Hugh, you have heard of Huber?"
"The man who found out so lunch about bees?" said Hugh.
"Bees and ants. When Huber had discovered more than had
ever been known about these, and when he was sure that he could
learn still more, and was more and more anxious to peep into their
tiny homes and curious ways, he became blind."
3. Hugh sighed, and his mother went on.
"Did you ever hear of Beethoven? He was one of the greatest
musical composers that ever lived. His great, his sole delight was
in music. It was the passion of his life. When all his time and all
his mind were given to music, he suddenly became deaf, perfectly
deaf; so that he never more heard one single note from the loudest
orchestra. While crowds were moved and delighted with his
compositions, it was all silence to him," Hugh said nothing.
4. "Now do you think," asked his mother--and Hugh saw that a
mild and gentle smile beamed from her countenance--"do you
think that these people were without a Heavenly Parent?"
"O no! but were they patient?" asked Hugh.
"Yes, in their different ways and degrees. Would you suppose
that they were hardly treated? Or would you not rather suppose
that their Father gave them something better to do than they had
planned for themselves?"
304 ECLECTIC SERIES.
5, "He must know best, of course; but it does seem very hard
that that very thing should happen to ihem. Huber would not have
so much minded being deaf, perhaps; or thai musical man, being
blind.
"No doubl their hearts often swelled within them at their
disappointments; but I fully believe that they very soon found
God's will to be wiser than their wishes. They found, if they bore
iheir trial well, thai there was work for their hearts to do far nobler
than any the head could do through the eye or the ear. And they
soon felt a new and delicious pleasure which none but the bitterly
disappointed can feel."
"What is ihat?'^
6, "The pleasure of rousing the soul to bear pain, and of
agreeing with God silently, when nobody knows what is in the
breast. There is no pleasure like that of exercising one's soul in
bearing pain, and of finding one's heart glow with the hope that
one is pleasing God,"
"Shall I feel that pleasure? "
"Often and often, I have no doubt; every time you can willingly
give up your wish to be a soldier or a sailor, or anything else you
have set your mind upon, you will feel that pleasure. But I do not
expect it of you yet. I dare say it was long a bitter thing to
Beethoven to see hundreds of people in raptures with his music,
when he could not hear a note of it."
7, "But did he ever smile again?" asked Hugh.
"If he did, he was happier than all the fine music in the world
could have made him," replied his mother.
"I wonder, oh, I wonder, if I shall ever feel so!"
"We will pray to God that you may. Shall we ask him now?"
Hugh clasped his hands. His mother kneeled beside the bed, and,
in a very few words, prayed that Hugh might be able to bear his
misfortune well, and that his friends might give him such help and
comfort as God should approve.
FIFTH READER. 305
8, Hugh found himself subject to very painful feelings
sometimes, such as no one quite understood, and such as he feared
no one was able to pity as they deserved- On one occasion, when
he had been quite merry for a while, and his mother and his sister
Agnes were chatting, they thought they heard a sob from the sofa.
They spoke to Hugh, and found that he was indeed crying bitterly.
"What is it, my dear?" said his mother. "Agnes, have we said
anything that could hurt his feelings?"
"No, no," sobbed Hugh. "I will tell you, presently."
9, And, presently, he told them that he was so busy listening to
what they said that he forgot everything else, when he felt as if
something had gotten between two of his toes; unconsciously he
put down his hand as if his foot were there! Nothing could be
plainer than the feeling in his toes; and then, when he put out his
hand, and found nothing, it was so terrible, it startled him so! It
was a comfort to find that his mother knew about this. She came,
and kneeled by his sofa, and told him that many persons who had
lost a limb considered this the most painful thing they had to bear
for some time; but that, though the feeling would return
occasionally through life, it would cease to be painful.
10, Hugh was very much dejected, and when he thought of the
months and years to the end of his life, and that he should never
run and play, and never be like other people, he almost wished that
he were dead.
Agnes thought that he must be miserable indeed if he could
venture to say this to his mother. She glanced at her mother's face,
but there was no displeasure there. On the contrary, she said this
feeling was very natural. She had felt it herself under smaller
misfortunes than Hugh's; but she had found, though the prospect
appeared all strewn with troubles, that they came singly, and were
not so hard to bear, after all.
1 L She told Hugh that when she was a little girl she
306 ECLECTIC SERIES.
was very lazy, fond of her bed, and not al all fond of dressing or
washing.
'"Why, mother! you?" exclaimed Hugh.
"Yes; that was the sort of little girl I was. Well, 1 was in
despair, one day, al the thought that I should have to wash, and
clean my teeth, and brush my hair, and put on every article of
dress, every morning, as long as I lived."
"Did you tell anybody?" asked Hugh.
12. "No, I was ashamed to do that; but I remember I cried. You
see how it turns out. When we have become accustomed to
anything, we do it without ever thinking of the trouble, and, as the
old fable tells us, the clock that has to tick so many millions of
times, has exactly the same number of seconds to do it in. So will
you find that you can move about on each separate occasion, as
you wish, and practice will enable you to do it without any trouble
or thought."
"But this is not all, nor half what I mean," said Hugh.
13. "No, my dear, nor half what you will have to bear. You
resolved to bear it all patiently, I remember. But what is it you
dread the most?"
"Oh! all manner of things. I can never do like other people,"
"Some things," replied his mother. "You can never play cricket,
as every Crofton boy would like to do. You can never dance at
your sister's Christmas parties."
14. "O mamma!" cried Agnes, with tears in her eyes, and with
the thought in her mind that it was cruel to talk so.
"Go on! Go on!" cried Hugh, brightening. "You know what I
feel, mother; and you don't keep telling me, as others do, and even
sister Agnes, sometimes, that it will not signify much, and that I
shall not care, and all that; making out that it is no misfortune,
hardly, when 1 know what it is, and they don't. Now, then, go on,
mother! What else?"
FIFTH READER.
307
15. "There will be little checks and mortifications continually,
when you see little boys leaping over this, and climbing that, and
playing at the other, while you must stand out, and can only look
on. And some people will pity you in a way you will not like: and
some may even laugh at you."
"O mamma!" exclaimed Agnes.
"WelK and what else?" said Hugh.
16. "Sooner or later you will have to follow some way of life
determined by this accident instead of one that you would have
liked better."
"Well, what else^^"
"I must ask you, now. I can think of nothing more: and 1 hope
there is not much else; for, indeed, I think here is quite enough for
a boy, or anyone else, to bear."
"I will bear it though; you will see/'
17. "You will find great helps. These misfortunes of themselves
strengthen one's mind. They have some advantages too. You will
be a belter scholar for your lameness, 1 have no doubt. You will
read more books, and have a mind richer in thoughts. You will be
more beloved by us alL and you yourself will love God more for
having given you something to bear for his sake. God himself will
help you to bear your trials. You will conquer your troubles one
by one, and by a succession of LITTLE VICTORIES will at last
completely triumph over all."
—Harriet Martineau.
Dtied, calctiil^iied, cannled- 3. Com-pog'^r, an eiwfAw of a piece of
iKTj^itc, Or'chfiB't.ri, tz bo^lp of ins£i-uj7ts7ifal n^usicians, 7. A p.
iJt^v^', s^netirm, aJJt^zr. 10. l>fl-j^tfe^ dTJ!GOHraij&f, hfjrhKpiriUd.
NOTES. -2. Francois Hubev ib. 1750, d. 1831) was a Swiss
naturalist. He became blind at the age of fifteen, but pursued his
studies by the aid of his wife and an attendant.
2. Liidwig van Beethoven {pro. ba'lo-ven;^. 1770, d. 1827) was
born at Bonn, Prussia, but passed most of his life at Vienna.
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Af-flict'ed. ovcrwiielmed, dejected. Reck"-
oned, calculated, counted. 3. Com-pos'er, an author of a piece of
nutsic. Or'ches-lra. a body of instrumental musicians. 7. Ap-
[^i-ovq\ sanction, allow. 10. DQ-jQct'^d, discouraged, low-spirited.
308 ECLECTIC SERIES.
CIL THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.
Sir Henry Wotton(/?. 1568, d. 1639) was born at Boclon Hall,
Kent, England- He was educated at Winchester and Oxford. About
1598 he was taken into the service of the Earl of Essex, as one of
his secretaries- On the Earl's committal to the Tower for treason,
Wotton fled to France; but he returned to England immediately
after the death of Elizabeth, and received the honor of knighthood-
He was King James's favorite diplomatist, and, in 1623, was
appointed provost of Eton College, Wotton wrote a number of
prose works; but his literary reputation rests mainly on some short
poems, which are distinguished by a dignity of thought and
expression rarely excelled.
1. How happy is he born and taught,
That servelh not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought.
And simple truth his utmost skill!
2. Whose passions not his masters are.
Whose soul is still prepared for death.
Untied unto the worldly care
Of public fame, or private breath;
3. Who envies none that chance doth raise.
Or vice; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of stale, but rules of good:
4. Who hath his life from rumors freed.
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose stale can neither flatterers feed.
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
5. Who God doth late and early pray,
More of his grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless dav
With a religious book or friend.
FIFTH READER. 309
6. This man is freed from servile bands,
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.
CIIL THE ART OF DISCOURAGEMENT,
Arthur Helps (b, 1813, J. 1875) graduated at Cambridge,
England, in 1835. His best known works are: "Friends in Council,
a Series of Readings and Discourses," "Companions of my
Solitude," and "Realmah," a tale of the "lake dwellers" in southern
Europe. He has also written a "History of the Spanish Conquests
in America," two historical dramas, and several other works. Mr.
Helps was a true thinker, and his writings are deservedly popular
with thoughtful readers. In 1 859 he was appointed secretary of the
privy council,
1 . Regarding, one day, in company with a humorous friend, a
noble vessel of a somewhat novel construction sailing slowly out
of port, he observed, "What a quantity of cold water somebody
must have had down his back." In my innocence, I supposed that
he alluded to the wet work of the artisans who had been building
the vessel; but when I came to know him better, 1 found that this
was the form of comment he always indulged in when
contemplating any new and great work, and that his "somebody"
was the designer of the vesseL
2. My friend had carefully studied the art of discouragement,
and there was a class of men whom he designated simply as "cold-
water pourers." It was most amusing to hear him describe the
lengthened sufferings of the man who first designed a wheel; of
him who first built a boat; of the adventurous personage who first
proposed the daring enterprise of using buttons, instead of fish
bones, to fasten the scanty raiment of some savage tribe,
3. Warming with his theme, he would become quite eloquent in
describing the long career of discouragement which
310 ECLECTIC SERIES.
these rash men had brought upon themselves, and which he said,
to his knowledge, must have shortened their lives. He invented
imaginary dialogues between the unfortunate inventor, say of the
wheel, and his particular friend, some eminent cold-water pourer-
For, as he said, every man has some such friend, who fascinates
him by fear, and to whom he confides his enterprises in order to
hear the worst that can be said of them.
4. The sayings of the chilling friend, probably, as he observed,
ran thus:--"We seem to have gone on very well for thousands of
years without this rolling thing. Your father carried burdens on his
back. The king is content to be borne on men's shoulders. The
high priest is not loo proud to do the same. Indeed, I question
whether it is not irreligious to attempt to shift from men's
shoulders iheir natural burdens.
5. "Then, as to its succeeding,— for my part, I see no chance of
that. How can it go up hill? How often you have failed before in
other fanciful things of the same nature! Besides, you are losing
your time; and the yams about your hut are only half planted. You
will be a beggar; and it is my duty, as a friend, to tell you so
plainly.
6, "There was Nang-chung: what became of him? We had
found fire for ages, in a proper way, taking a proper time about it,
by rubbing two sticks together. He must needs strike out fire at
once, with iron and flint; and did he die in his bed? Our sacred
lords saw the impiety of that proceeding, and very justly impaled
the man who imitated heavenly powers. And, even if you could
succeed with this new and absurd rolling thing, the state would be
ruined. What would become of those who carry burdens on their
backs? Put aside the vain fancies of a childish mind, and finish the
planting of your yams."
7, It is really very curious to observe how, even in modern
times, the arts of discouragement prevail. There are men whose
sole pretense to wisdom consists in administering
FIFTH READER. 311
discouragement. They are never at a loss. They are equally ready
to prophesy, with wonderful ingenuity, all possible varieties of
misfortune to any enterprise that may be proposed; and when the
thing is produced, and has met with some success, to find a flaw in
it-
8. I once saw a work of art produced in the presence of an
eminent cold-water pourer. He did not deny that it was beautiful;
but he instantly fastened upon a small crack in it that nobody had
observed; and upon thai crack he would dilate whenever the work
was discussed in his presence. Indeed, he did not see the work, but
only the crack in it. Thai flaw, --that little flaw,— was all in all to
him.
9. The cold-water pourers are not all of one form of mind.
Some are led to indulge in this recreation from genuine timidity.
They really do fear that all new attempts will fail. Others are
simply envious and ill-natured- Then, again, there is a sense of
power and wisdom in prophesying evil. Moreover, it is the safest
thing to prophesy, for hardly anything at first succeeds exactly in
the way that it was intended to succeed.
10. Again, there is the lack of imagination which gives rise to
the utterance of so much discouragement. For an ordinary man, it
must have been a great mental strain to grasp the ideas of the first
projectors of steam and gas, electric telegraphs, and pain-
deadening chloroform. The inventor is always, in the eyes of his
fellow-men, somewhat of a madman; and often they do their best
to make him so.
1 1 . Again, there is the want of sympathy; and that is, perhaps,
the ruling cause in most men's minds who have given themselves
up to discourage. They are not tender enough, or sympathetic
enough, to appreciate all the pain they are giving, when, in a dull
plodding way, they lay out argument after argument to show that
the project which the poor inventor has set his heart upon, and
upon which, perhaps, he has staked his fortune, will not succeed,
12. But what inventors suffer, is only a small part of
312
ECLECTIC SERIES.
what mankind in general endure from thoughtless and unkind
discouragement. Those high-souled men belong to the suffering
class, and must suffer; but il is in daily life that the wear and tear
of discouragement tells so much. Propose a small party of pleasure
to an apt discourager, and see what he will make of il. It soon
becomes sicklied over with doubt and despondency; and, at last,
the only hope of the proposer is, that his proposal, when realized,
will not be an ignominious failure. Al! hope of pleasure, at least
for the proposer, has long been out of the question.
Defimitiows— Sb X)$g'ig-riSt-^ called b^ a disdnctii^ t\de^
nam^d. 5. YiSaTi, th^ rooi of a cUmbm^ plants fo^nd in tfie tropic^t
t^hieh k xiSSd for food- ^. Im-p&lefi'j ptzi M d&iih h^ hein^ Jiarsd o7i
en upfiffhtf shatp stake, 8. Dl-late', la itp^ak hirffel^, to dfi?^U in
narration. 10. Riae ( pj-o. ns, nOi l-lz), MWrec^ tfKjirt- Pm-j-E^'UiT,
ipne loho Jbr7ff£ a schfimfi or rl-ssiffUm
CIV. THE MARINER'S DREAM,
William Dimond (b. 1780, d. 1837) was a dramatist and poet,
living at Bath. England, where he was born and received his
education. He afterwards studied for the bar in London. His
literary productions are for the most part dramas, but he has also
written a number of poems, among them ihe following:
I . 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.
DEFINITIONS. -2. Des'ig-nal-ed, called by a distincUve
title, named. 5. Yam, the root of a climbing plant, found
in the tropics, which is used for food. 6. Im-paled', put to
death by being fixed on an upright, sharp stake. 8. Di-
late', to speak largely, to dwell in narration. 10. Rise
(pro. ris, notriz), source, origin. Pro-jec'tor. one who
forms a scheme or design.
2. He dreamed of his home, of his dear native bowers.
And pleasures that wailed on life's merry morn;
While Memory each scene gayly covered with flowers.
And restored every rose, but secreted the thorn.
FIFTH READER. 313
3. Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide.
And bade the young dreamer in ecstasy rise;
Now, far, far behind him the green waters glide,
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes.
4. The jessamine clambers in flowers o'er the thatch.
And the swallow chirps sweet from her nest in the wall;
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch.
And the voices of loved ones reply to his cM.
5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight;
His cheek is impearled with a mother's warm tear;
And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite
With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.
6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast;
Joy quickens his pulses, --all his hardships seem o'er;
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest,--
"O God! thou hast blest me,— I ask for no more."
7. Ah! whence is that flame which now bursts on his eye?
Ah! what is that sound that now 'larums his ear?
T is the lightning's red glare painting hell on the sky!
'T is the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere!
8. He springs from his hammock,— he flies to the deck;
Amazement confronts him with images dire;
Wild winds and mad waves drive the vessel a wreck;
The masts fly in splinters; the shrouds are on fire.
9. Like mountains the billows tremendously swell;
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mercy to save;
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell.
And the death angel flaps his broad wings o'er the wave!
314
ECLECTIC SERIES.
10. O sailor boy, woe to thy dream of delight!
In darkness dissolves the gay frostwork of bliss!
Where now is the picture that Fancy touched bright,—
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honeyed kiss?
11. O sailor boy! sailor boy! never again
Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay;
Unblessed and unhonored, down deep in the main,
Full many a fathom, thy frame shall decay.
12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,
Or redeem form or fame from the merciless surge;
But the while foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be,
And winds in the midnight of winter thy dirge.
13. On a bed of green sea flowers thy limbs shall be laid,--
Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow;
Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made.
And every part suit to thy mansion below.
14. Days, monlhs, years, and ages shall circle away,
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll;
Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye:
O sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul!
DtFiwiTrosft- — 1. Plflm'nioct, -at ha.f>ffifif^ fjr swiir^irt^f hed, lisa-
*i£rrt. &. Iii3-pife*rl'ad' (prQ. ir7i-[>GTW), de^firatf^ -a'Uf^ fiti^ff^kf w
TetXh things Jv^emUinif p^jOrh^ 7. 'Lfir'unh^ (an abbreuieJion of
iblfij-uuiar /ar iLlbTiiis)^ a^tff^ta, i£rr/^£3n 12^ DJr^s, /urt^imi mTt$to,
NOTES. --13. Coral is the solid part of a minute sea animal,
corresponding to the bones in other animals. It grows in many
fantastic shapes, and is of various colors.
Amber is a yellow resin, and is the fossilized gum of buried
trees. It is mined in several localities in Europe and America; it is
also found along the seacoasl, washed up by the waves.
DEFINITIONS.-- 1. Ham'mock, a hanging or swinging bed, usttally
made of netting or hempen cloth. 4. Trans'porl, ecstasy, rapture. 5.
Im-pearled' {pro. im-perled'), decorated with pearls, or with things
resembling pearls. 7. 'Lar'ums (an abbreviation (j/alarums^/or
alarms), affrights, terrifies. 12. Dir g^., fiinera I music.
FIFTH READER. 315
CV. THE PASSENGER PIGEON.
John James Audubon (6. 1780, d. 1851). This celebrated
American ornilhologisl was born in Louisiana. When quite young
he was passionately fond of birds, and took delight in studying
their habits. In 1797 his father, an admiral in the French navy, sent
him to Paris to be educated. On his return to America, he settled
on a farm in eastern Pennsylvania, but afterward removed to
Henderson, Ky., where he resided several years, supporting his
family by trade, but devoting most of his time to the pursuit of his
favorite study. In 1826 he went to England, and commenced the
publication of the "Birds of America," which consists of ten
volumes--five of engravings of birds, natural size, and five of
letterpress. Cuvier declares this work to be "the most magnificent
monument thai art has ever erected to ornithology." In 1830
Audubon returned to America, and soon afterwards made
excursions into nearly every section of the United States and
Canada. A popular edition of his great work was published, in
seven volumes, in 1844, and "The Quadrupeds of America," in six
volumes, --three of plates and three of letterpress, in 1846-50. He
removed to the vicinity of New York about 1840, and resided
there until his death.
1. The multitudes of wild pigeons in our woods are astonishing.
Indeed, after having viewed ihem so often, and under so many
circumstances, I even now feel inclined to pause and assure
myself that what I am going to relate is a fact. Yet I have seen it
all, and that, too, in the company of persons who, like myself,
were struck with amazement,
2. In the autumn of 1813 I left my house at Henderson, on the
banks of the Ohio, on my way to Louisville. In passing over the
Barrens, a few miles beyond Hardinsburgh, I observed the pigeons
flying, from northeast to southwest, in greater numbers than I
thought I had ever seen them before, and feeling an inclination to
count the flocks that might pass within the reach of my eye in one
hour, I dismounted, seated myself on an eminence, and began to
mark with my pencil, making a dot for every flock that passed.
3. In a short time, finding the task which I had undertaken
impracticable, as the birds poured in in countless multitudes, I
rose, and, counting the dots then put down,
316 ECLECTIC SERIES.
found that one hundred and sixly-three had been made in twenty-
one minutes. I traveled on, and still met more the farther I
proceeded. The air was literally filled with pigeons; the light of
noonday was obscured as by an eclipse; and the continued buzz of
wings had a tendency to lull my senses to repose.
4. Whilst wailing for dinner at Young's inn, at the confluence of
Salt River with the Ohio, I saw, at my leisure, immense legions
still going by, with a front reaching far beyond the Ohio on the
west, and the beech wood forests directly on the east of me. Not a
single bird alighted, for not a nut or acorn was that year to be seen
in the neighborhood. They consequently flew so high that different
trials to reach them with a capital rifle proved ineffectual; nor did
the reports disturb them in the least.
5. I can not describe to you the extreme beauty of their aerial
evolutions when a hawk chanced to press upon the rear of a flock-
At once, like a torrent, and with a noise like thunder, they rushed
into a compact mass, pressing upon each other towards the center.
In these almost solid masses, they darted forward in undulating
and angular lines, descended and swept close over the earth with
inconceivable velocity, mounted perpendicularly so as to resemble
a vast column, and, when high, were seen wheeling and twisting
within their continued lines, which then resembled the coils of a
gigantic serpent.
6. As soon as the pigeons discover a sufficiency of food to
entice them to alight, they fly round in circles, reviewing the
country below. During their evolutions, on such occasions, the
dense mass which they form exhibits a beautiful appearance, as it
changes its direction, now displaying a glistening sheet of azure,
when the backs of the birds come simultaneously into view, and
anon suddenly presenting a mass of rich, deep purple.
7. They then pass lower, over the woods, and for a moment are
lost among the foliage, but again emerge, and are
FIFTH READER. 317
seen gliding aloft. They now alight; but the next moment, as if
suddenly alarmed, they take to wing, producing by the flappings
of their wings a noise like the roar of distant thunder, and sweep
through the forests to see if danger is near. Hunger, however, soon
brings them to the ground.
8. When alighted, they are seen industriously throwing up the
withered leaves in quest of the fallen mast. The rear ranks are
continually rising, passing over the main body, and alighting in
front, in such rapid succession, that the whole flock seems still on
wing. The quantity of ground thus swept is astonishing; and so
completely has it been cleared that the gleaner who might follow
in their rear would find his labor completely lost.
9. On such occasions, when the woods are filled with these
pigeons, they are killed in immense numbers, athough no
apparent diminution ensues. About the middle of the day, after
their repast is finished, they settle on the trees to enjoy rest and
digest their food. As the sun begins to sink beneath the horizon;
they depart en masse for the roosting place, which not
unfrequently is hundreds of miles distant, as has been ascertained
by persons who have kept an account of their arrivals and
departures.
10. Let us now inspect their place of nightly rendezvous. One
of these curious roosting places, on the banks of the Green River,
in Kentucky, I repeatedly visited. It was, as is always the case, in a
portion of the forest where the trees were of great magnitude, and
where there was little underwood. I rode through it upwards of
forty miles, and, crossing it in different parts, found its average
breadth to be rather more than three miles. My first view of it was
about a fortnight subsequent to the period when they had made
choice of it, and I arrived there nearly two hours before sunset.
1 1. Many trees, two feet in diameter, I observed, were broken
off at no great distance from the ground; and the
318 ECLECTIC SERIES.
branches of many of the largest and taJlesl had given way, as if the
forest had been swept by a tornado. Everything proved to me that
the number of birds resorting to this part of the forest must be
immense beyond conception.
12. As the period of their arrival approached, their foes
anxiously prepared to receive them. Some were furnished with
iron pots containing sulphur, others with torches of pine knots,
many with poles, and the rest with guns. The sun was lost to our
view, yet not a pigeon had arrived. Everything was ready, and all
eyes were gazing on the clear sky, which appeared in glimpses
amidst the tall trees. Suddenly there burst forth the general cry of,
"Here they come!"
13. The noise which they made, though yet distant, reminded
me of a hard gale at sea passing through the rigging of a close-
reefed vessel. As the birds arrived and passed over me, I felt a
current of air that surprised me. Thousands were soon knocked
down by the pole men. The birds continued to pour in. The fires
were lighted, and a magnificent as weU as wonderful and almost
terrifying sight presented itself.
14. The pigeons, arriving by thousands, alighted everywhere,
one above another, until solid masses, as large as hogsheads, were
formed on the branches all round. Here and there the perches gave
way under the weight with a crash, and falling to the ground
destroyed hundreds of the birds beneath, forcing down the dense
groups with which every stick was loaded. It was a scene of
uproar and confusion- I found it quite useless to speak or even to
shout to those persons who were nearest to me. Even the reports of
the guns were seldom heard, and I was made aware of the firing
only by seeing the shooters reloading.
15. The uproar continued the whole night; and as I was anxious
to know to what distance the sound reached, I sent off a man,
accustomed to perambulate the forest, who, returning two hours
afterwards, informed me he had
FIFTH READER,
319
heard it distinctly when three miles distant from the spot. Towards
the approach of day, the noise in some measure subsided: long
before objects were distinguishable, the pigeons began to move off
in a direction quite different from that in which they had arrived
the evening before, and at sunrise all that were able to fly had
disappeared.
DEFiriTrn-tr!^. — 5. A-c'ti-rI, &^f^^j*_^ or lyerir^inl-n^ jt» ihn RiV,
6. A-noii', iFi a short time, ^oon. 3. M&sW tA^ fruil f/ rjriit imd
b^ech CT t:^tr foresf. ire<^. 10. K,en'des-vpiTia (jircj, r^iiMe-vi^), ait
app^ijiied or cvsloT-ntifi^ place of Tueetm^. SiiVse-qiieutj. /tifJow^'fl^
hi finvfi. 15- Per-aTn'bu-late, t& isalk tkj-Qiiijh.
NOTES. --The wild pigeon, in common with almost every
variety of game, is becoming more scarce throughout the country
each year: and Audubon's account, but for the position he holds,
would in time, no doubt, be considered ridiculous-
9. En masse (pro. aN mas), a French phrase meaning in a body.
[Transcriber's note: The last Passenger Pigeon died at the
Cincinnati Zoo on September I, 1914. Population estimates
ranged up to 5 billion, comprising 40% of the total number of
birds in North America in the 19lh century.]
CVL THE COUNTRY LIFE.
Richard Henry Stoddard (b. 1825,--) was born at Hingham,
Mass., but removed to New York City while quite young. His first
volume of poems, "Fool-prints," appeared in 1849, and has been
followed by many others. Of these may be mentioned "Songs of
Summer," "Town and Country," "The King's Bell." "Abraham
Lincoln" (an ode), and the "Book of the East," from the last of
which the following selection is abridged. Mr. Stoddard's verses
are full of genuine feeing, and some of them show great poetic
power.
DEFINITIONS. --5. A-e'ri-al, belonging or pertaining to the
on. 6. A-non', in a short time, soon . S.MaiSt, the fruit of oak
and beech or other forest trees. 10. Ren'dez-vous (pro.
ren'de-voo), an appointed or customary place of meeting.
Sub' SG-quQni, following in time. 15. Per-am'bu-late, to walk
through.
\. Not what we would, but what we must.
Makes up the sum of living:
Heaven is both more and less than just.
In taking and in giving.
Swords cleave to hands that sought the plow.
And laurels miss the soldier's brow.
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2. Me, whom the city holds, whose feet
Have worn its stony highways,
Familiar with its loneliest street,—
Its ways were never my ways.
My cradle was beside the sea,
And there, I hope, my grave will be.
3. Old homestead! in that old gray town
Thy vane is seaward blowing;
Thy slip of garden stretches down
To where the tide is flowing;
Below they lie, their sails all furled.
The ships that go about the world.
4. Dearer that little country house,
Inland with pines beside it;
Some peach trees, with unfruitful boughs,
A well, with weeds to hide it:
No flowers, or only such as rise
Self-sown--poor things!--which all despise.
5. Dear country home! can 1 forget
The least of thy sweet trifles?
The window vines that clamber yet.
Whose blooms the bee still rifles?
The roadside blackberries, growing ripe.
And in the woods the Indian pipe?
6. Happy the man who tills his field.
Content with rustic labor;
Earth does to him her fullness yield.
Hap what may to his neighbor.
Well days, sound nights— oh, can there be
A life more rational and free?
NOTE---5. The Indian pipe is a little, while plant, bearing a
white, bell-shaped flower.
FIFTH READER. 321
CVIL THE VIRGINIANS,
William Makepeace Thackeray (b. 1811, d. 1863). This
popular English humorist, essayist, and novelist was born in
Calcutta. He was educated at the Charterhouse school in London,
and at Cambridge, but he did not complete a collegiate course of
study. He began his literary career as a contributor to 'Eraser's
Magazine," under the assumed name of Michael Angelo Tilmarsh,
and afterwards contributed to the column of "Punch/' The first
novel published under Thackeray's own name was "Vanity Fair,"
which is regarded by many as his greatest work. He afterwards
wrote a large number of novels, tales, and poems, most of which
were illustrated by sketches drawn by himself. His course of
"Lectures on the English Humorists" was delivered in London in
1851, and the following year in several cities in the United States.
He revisited the United Slates in 1856, and delivered a course of
lectures on "The Eour Georges," which he repeated in Great
Britain soon after his return home. In 1860 he became the editor of
"The Cornhill Magazine," the most successful serial ever
published in England.
1. Mr. Esmond called his American house Castlewood, from
the patrimonial home in the old country. The whole usages of
Virginia, indeed, were fondly modeled after the English customs.
It was a loyal colony. The Virginians boasted that King Charles
the Second had been king in Virginia before he had been king in
England. English king and English church were alike faithfully
honored there.
2. The resident gentry were allied lo good English families.
They held their heads above the Dutch traders of New York, and
the money-getting Roundheads of Pennsylvania and New
England, Never were people less republican than those of the great
province which was soon lo be foremost in the memorable revolt
against the British Crown,
3. The gentry of Virginia dwelt on their great lands after a
fashion almost patriarchal. For its rough cultivation, each estate
had a multitude of hands--of purchased and assigned servants--
who were subject to the command of the master. The land yielded
their food, live stock, and game.
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4. The great rivers swarmed with fish for the taking. From their
banks the passage home was clear. Their ships took the tobacco
off their private wharves on the banks of the Potomac or the James
River, and carried it to London or Bristol,— bringing back English
goods and articles of home manufacture in return for the only
produce which the Virginian gentry chose to cultivate.
5. Their hospitality was boundless. No stranger was ever sent
away from their gates. The gentry received one another, and
traveled to each other's houses, in a state almost feudal. The
question of slavery was not born at the lime of which we write. To
be the proprietor of black servants shocked the feelings of no
Virginia gentleman; nor, in truth, was the despotism exercised
over the negro race generally a savage one- The food was plenty:
the poor black people lazy and not unhappy. You might have
preached negro emancipation to Madam Esmond of Castlewood as
you might have told her to let the horses run loose out of the
stables; she had no doubt but that the whip and the corn bag were
good for both,
6. Her father may have thought otherwise, being of a skeptical
turn on very many points, but his doubts did not break forth in
active denial, and he was rather disaffected than rebellious. At one
period, this gentleman had taken a part in active life at home, and
possibly might have been eager to share its rewards; but in latter
days he did not seem to care for them. A something had occurred
in his life, which had cast a tinge of melancholy over all his
existence.
7. He was not unhappy,— to those about him most kind,— most
affectionate, obsequious even to the women of his family, whom
he scarce ever contradicted; but there had been some bankruptcy
of his heart, which his spirit never recovered. He submitted to life,
rather than enjoyed it, and never was in belter spirits than in his
last hours when he was going to lay it down.
FIFTH READER. 323
8. When the boys' grandfather died, their mother, in great state,
proclaimed her eldest son George her successor and heir of the
estate; and Harry, George's younger brother by half an hour, was
always enjoined to respect his senior. All the household was
equally instructed to pay him honor; the negroes, of whom there
was a large and happy family, and the assigned servants from
Europe, whose lot was made as bearable as it might be under the
government of the lady of Castlewood.
9. In the whole family there scarcely was a rebel save Mrs.
Esmond's faithful friend and companion, Madam Mountain, and
Harry's foster mother, a faithful negro woman, who never could be
made to understand why her child should not be first, who was
handsomer, and stronger, and cleverer than his brother, as she
vowed; though, in truth, there was scarcely any difference in the
beauty, strength, or stature of the Iwins.
10- In disposition, they were in many points exceedingly
unlike; but in feature they resembled each other so closely, that,
but for the color of their hair, it had been difficult to distinguish
them. In their beds, and when their heads were covered with those
vast, ribboned nightcaps, which our great and little ancestors wore,
it was scarcely possible for any but a nurse or a mother to tell the
one from the other child.
II, Howbeit, alike in form, we have said that they differed in
temper. The elder was peaceful, studious, and silent; the younger
was warlike and noisy. He was quick at learning when he began,
but very slow at beginning. No threats of the ferule would provoke
Harry to learn in an idle fit, or would prevent George from helping
his brother in his lesson, Harry was of a strong military turn,
drilled the little negroes on the estate, and caned them like a
corporal, having many good boxing matches with them, and never
bearing malice if he was worsted;— whereas George was sparing of
blows, and gentle with all about him.
324 ECLECTIC SERIES.
12- As the custom in all families was, each of the boys had a
special little servant assigned him: and it was a known fact that
George, finding his little wretch of a blackamoor asleep on his
master's bed, sal down beside it, and brushed the flies off the child
with a feather fan, to the horror of old Gumbo, the child's father,
who found his young master so engaged, and to the indignation of
Madam Esmond, who ordered the young negro off to the proper
officer for a whipping. In vain George implored and enlreated--
burst into passionate tears, and besought a remission of the
sentence. His mother was inflexible regarding the young rebel's
punishment, and the little negro went off beseeching his young
master not to cry.
13. On account of a certain apish drollery and humor which
exhibited itself in the lad, and a liking for some of the old man's
pursuits, the first of the twins was the grandfather's favorite and
companion, and would laugh and talk out all his infantine heart to
the old gentleman, to whom the younger had seldom a word to
say.
14. George was a demure, studious boy, and his senses seemed
to brighten up in the library, where his brother was so gloomy. He
knew the books before he could well-nigh carry them, and read in
them long before he could understand them, Harry, on the other
hand, was all alive in the stables or in the wood, eager for all
parties of hunting and fishing, and promised to be a good
sportsman from a very early age.
15. At length the time came when Mr, Esmond was to have
done with the affairs of this life, and he laid them down as if glad
to be rid of their burden. All who read and heard that discourse,
wondered where Parson Broadbent of James Town found the
eloquence and the Latin which adorned it. Perhaps Mr, Dempster
knew, the boys' Scotch tutor, who corrected the proofs of the
oration, which was printed, by the desire of his Excellency and
many persons of honor, at Mr. Franklin's press in Philadelphia.
FIFTH READER,
325
16. No such sumptuous funeral had ever bean seen in the
country as that which Madam Esmond Warrington ordained for
her father, who would have been the first to smile at that pompous
grief.
17. The Utile lads of Castlewood, almost smothered in black
trains and hatbands, headed the procession and were followed by
my Lord Fairfax, from Greenway Court, by his Excellency the
Governor of Virginia (with his coach), by the Randolphs, the
Careys, the Harrisons, the Washingtons, and many others; for the
whole country esteemed the departed gentleman, whose goodness,
whose high talents, whose benevolence and unobtrusive urbanity,
had earned for him the just respect of his neighbors.
18. When informed of the event, the family of Colonel
Esmond's stepson, the Lord Castlewood of Hampshire in England,
asked to be at the charges of the marble slab which recorded the
names and virtues of his lordship's mother and her husband; and
after due lime of preparation, the monument was set up, exhibiting
the arms and coronet of the Esmonds, supported by a little, chubby
group of weeping cherubs, and reciting an epitaph which for once
did not tel! any falsehoods.
G. P^s-af-fueli'e^I, fym-ofitettte'i. 7. Ob-sc'qiLi-oilH, coynplfai^t !o *ix-
te^ff of m<iinrierx^ refin^mffa. IS. Ef/i-taptL (pro. gp'i-tdi), tin
tuscriplion o-ti a mritii^icnt:^ -itt honor Sr ^ tJi^frWry ofihe denid^
NOTES. --2. Rouiuihead was the epithet applied to the Puritans
by the Cavaliers in the time of Charles I. It arose from the practice
among the Puritans of cropping their hair peculiarly.
3. Patriarchal. 5. Feudal The Jewish patriarch, in olden times,
and the head of a noble family in Europe, during the Middle Ages,
when the "Feudal System," as it is called, existed, both held
almost despotic sway, the one over his great number of
descendants and relations, and the other over a vast body of
DEF1NTIONS.--1. Pat-ri-mo'ni-al, Inherited from ancestors. 6.
Dis-af-fect'ed, discouraged. 7. Ob-se'qui-ous, compliant to
excess. 12. Black'a-moor, a negro. 17. Ur-ban'i-ty, civility or
courtesy of manners, refinement. 18. Ep'i-taph (pro. ep'i-taf), an
inscription on a monument, in honor or in memory of the dead.
326 ECLECTIC SERIES.
subjects or retainers. Both patriarch and feudal lord were less
restricted than the modern king, and the feudal lord, especially,
lived in a state of great magnificence.
15. Proofs. When matter is to be printed, a rough impression of
it is taken as soon as the type is set up, and sent to the editor or
some other authority for correction- These first sheets are called
proofs.
His Excellency was the title applied to the governor.
CVIILMINOT'S LEDGE.
Eitz-Jaraes 0'Brien(/?. 1828, d. 1862) was of Irish birth, and
came to America in 1852. He has contributed a number of tales
and poems to various periodicals, but his writings have never been
collected in book form. Mr. O'Brien belonged to the New York
Seventh Regiment, and died at Baltimore of a wound received in a
cavalry skirmish.
1. Like spectral hounds across the sky.
The while clouds scud before the storm;
And naked in the howling night
The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form.
The waves with slippery fingers clutch
The massive tower, and climb and fall,
And, muttering, growl with baffled rage
Their curses on the sturdy walL
2, Up in the lonely tower he sits.
The keeper of the crimson light:
Silent and awe-struck does he hear
The imprecations of the night.
The white spray beats against the panes
Like some wet ghost that down the air
Is hunted by a troop of fiends.
And seeks a shelter anywhere.
FIFTH READER. 327
3. He prays aloud, the lonely man,
For every soul that night at sea,
But more than all for that brave boy
Who used to gayly climb his knee,--
Young Charlie, with his chestnut hair.
And hazel eyes, and laughing lip.
"May Heaven look down," the old man cries.
"Upon my son, and on his ship!"
4. While thus with pious heart he prays.
Far in the distance sounds a boom:
He pauses; and again there rings
That sullen thunder through the room,
A ship upon the shoals to-nighl!
She cannot hold for one half hour;
But clear the ropes and grappling hooks.
And trust in the Almighty Power!
5. On the drenched gallery he stands.
Striving to pierce the solid night:
Across the sea the red eye throws
A steady crimson wake of light;
And, where it falls upon the waves.
He sees a human head float by.
With long drenched curls of chestnut hair.
And wild but fearless hazel eye-
6. Out with the hooks! One mighty fling!
Adown the wind the long rope curls.
Oh! will it catch? Ah, dread suspense!
While the wild ocean wilder whirls.
A steady pull; it tightens now:
Oh! his old heart will burst with joy.
As on the slippery rocks he pulls
The breathing body of his boy.
328 ECLECTIC SERIES.
7, Still sweep the specters through the sky;
Still scud the clouds before the storm;
Still naked in the howling night
The red-eyed lighthouse lifts its form.
Without, the world is wild with rage;
Unkenneled demons are abroad;
But with the father and the son
Within, there is the peace of God.
NOTE. --Minor's Ledge (^iso called the "Cohasset Rocks") is a
dangerous reef in Boston Harbor, eight miles southwest of Boston
Light- It has a fixed light of its own, sixly-six feet high.
CIX. HAMLET.
William Shakespeare (b. 1564, d. 1616), by many regarded as
the greatest poet the world has ever produced, was born at
Stratford-upon-Avon, England. He was married, when very
young, to a woman eight years his senior, went to London, was
joint proprietor of Blackfriar's Theater in 1589, wrote poems and
plays, was an actor, accumulated some property, and retired to
Stratford three or four years before his death. He was buried in
Stratford church, where a monument has been erected to his
memory. This is all that is known of him with any degree of
certainty.
Shakespeare's works consist chiefly of plays and sonnets. They
show a wonderful knowledge of human nature, expressed in
language remarkable for its point and beauty.
(ACT 1, SCENE II. HAMLET alone in a room, of the castle.
Enter HORATIO, MARCELLUS, and BERNARDO.)
Hor, Hail, to your lordship!
Ham. I am glad to see you well:
Horatio, --or I do forgot myself.
Hor, The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.
Ham. Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you:
And what make you from Wittenberg, Horatio?--
Macellus?
FIFTH READER. 329
Mar. My good lord--
Ham. I am very glad to see you. [To Ber.] Good even, sir.
Bui what, in faitli, make you from Wittenberg?
Hot\ A truant disposition, good my lord.
Ham. I would not hear your enemy say so,
Nor shall you do mine ear that violence,
To make it truster of your own report
Against yourself: I knew you are no truant.
But what is your affair in Elsinore?
We'll leach you to drink deep ere you depart.
Hot\ My lord, I came to see your father's funeral.
Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, foUow-student;
I think it was to see my mother's wedding.
Hot\ Indeed, my lord, it followed hard upon.
Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables.
Would I had met my dearest foe in heaven
Or ever I had seen that day, Horatio!
My father!--methinks I see my father.
Hot\ Where, my lord?
Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio.
Hot\ I saw him once; he was a goodly king.
Ham. He was a man, take him for all in all,
I shall not look upon his like again.
Hot\ My lord, 1 think I saw him yesternight.
Ham. Saw? who?
Hor, My lord, the king your father.
Ham. The king my father!
Hot\ Season your admiration for a while
With an altent ear, till 1 may deliver.
Upon the witness of these gentlemen.
This marvel to you.
Ham. For God's love, let me hear-
Hor. Two nights together had these gentlemen,
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch.
In the dead vast and middle of the night.
330
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Been thus encounler'd. A figure like your father,
Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pie.
Appears before them, and with solemn march
Goes slow and stately by them: thrice he walk'd
FIFTH READER. 331
By their oppress'd and fear- surprised eyes.
Within his trucheon's length; whilst they, distill'd
Almost to jelly with the act of fear,
Stand dumb and speak not to him. This to me
!n dreadful secrecy impart they did;
And I with them the third night kept the watch:
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time,
Form of the thing, each word made true and good,
The apparition comes: I knew your father;
These hands are not more like.
Ham. But where was this?
Mar. My lord, upon the platform where we watch'd.
Ham. Did you speak to it?
Hor. My lord, I did;
But answer made it none: yet once methought
It lifted up its head and did address
Itself to motion, like as it would speak;
But even then the morning cock crew loud.
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away.
And vanished from our sight.
Ham. T is very strange,
Hor. As I do live, my honor'd lord, 't is true;
And we did think it writ down in our duty
To let you know of it.
Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles me,
Hold you the watch to-night?
Mar, Ber. We do, my lord.
Ham. Arm'd, say you?
Mar, Ber. Arm'd, my lord.
Ham. From top to toe?
Mar, Ber. My lord, from head to foot.
Ham. Then saw you not his face?
Hor. Oh, yes, my lord; he wore his beaver up.
332
ECLECTIC SERIES.
Ham. What, look'd lie frowningly?
Hor. A countenance more in sorrow than in anger-
Ham. Pale or red?
Hor. Nay, very pale.
Ham. And fix'd his eyes upon you?
Hot: Most constantly.
Ham. I would I had been there-
Hor. It would have much amazed you.
Ham. Very like, very like. Stay'd it long?
Hor. While one with moderate haste might tell a hundred.
Mar. Ben Longer, longer.
Hor. Not when I saw'l.
Ham. His beard was grizzled, --no?
Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life,
A sable silver'd.
Ham. I will watch to-night;
Perchance 't will walk again.
Hor. I warrant it will.
Ham. If it assume my noble father's person,
ril speak to it, though hell itself should gape
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you all.
If you have hitherto conceal'd this sight.
Let it be tenable in your silence still;
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night.
Give it an understanding, but no tongue:
I will requite your loves. So, fare you well:
Upon the platform, 'iwixt eleven and twelve,
I'll visit you.
Trdst'er, a bt^liseer. AWieul-', aitetitwe, hc^f/viL Pe-ll^'fr, fit
bairn, i^ciVcCj a p<xri f}f fhe hebn^i ijov^riuff iM /nc^, so ponirtrucit'd
thai the iire^rer couid rdisfi or k^er it, T't^n'a-folej atpoNe lof^in^
DEFINITIONS. --Tru'ant, wandering from business, loitering.
Trust'er, a believer. Al-tent', attentive, heedful. De-liv'er, To
communicate, To uTTer. Cap-a-pie' (from the French, /?/y>. kap-a-
pee'), //"(j/n head to foot. Trun'cheon (pro. trun'shun), a short staff, a
baton. Bea'ver, a part of the helmet covering the face, so
constructed that the wearer could raise or lower it. Ten'a-ble,
capable of being held.
FIFTH READER. 333
NOTES. --What make you from Wittenberg? i.e., what are you
doing away from Wittenberg?
Wittenberg is a university town in Saxony, where Hamlet and
Horatio had been schoolfellows.
Elsinore is a fortified town on one of the Danish islands, and
was formerly the seal of one of the royal castles. It is the scene of
Shakespeare's "Hamlet."
Hard upon; i.e., soon after.
Funeral baked meats. This has reference to the ancient custom
of funeral feasts.
My dearest foe\ i.e,, my greatest foe, A common use of the
word "dearest" in Shakespeare's time.
Or ever, i.e., before.
Season your admiration', i.e., restrain your wonder.
The dead vast; i.e., the dead void.
Armed at point, i.e., armed at all points.
Did address itself to motion; i.e., made a motion.
Give it an understanding, etc.; i.e., understand, but do not
speak of it.
/ will requite your loves, or, as we should say, I will repay your
friendship.
ex. DISSERTATION ON ROAST PIG.
Charles Lamb (b. 1775, d. 1834) was born in London. He was
educated at Christ's Hospital, where he was a schoolfellow and
intimate friend of Coleridge. In 1792 he became a clerk in the
India House, London, and in 1825 he retired from his clerkship on
a pension of £441, Lamb never married, but devoted his life to the
care of his sister Mary, who was at times insane. He wrote "Tales
founded on the Plays of Shakespeare," and several other works of
rare merit; but his literary fame rests principally on the inimitable
"Essays of Elia" (published originally in the "London Magazine"),
from one of which the foliowing selection is adapted.
I. Mankind, says a Chinese manuscript, which my friend M.
was obliging enough to read and explain to me, for the first
seventy thousand ages ate their meat raw, clawing or biting it from
the living animal, just as they do in Abyssinia to this day.
334 ECLECTIC SERIES.
2. This period is not obscurely hinted at by their great
Confucius in the second chapter of his "Mundane Mutations,"
where he designates a kind of golden age by the term Cho-fang^
literally the Cooks' Holiday. The manuscript goes on to say that
the art of roasting, or rather broiling (which I take to be the elder
brother), was accidentally discovered in the manner following:
3. The swineherd, Ho-ti, having gone out into the woods one
morning, as his manner was, to collect mast for his hogs, left his
cottage in the care of his eldest son. Bo-bo, a great lubberly boy,
who, being fond of playing with fire, as younkers of his age
commonly are, lei some sparks escape into a bundle of straw,
which, kindling quickly, spread the conflagration over every part
of their poor mansion till it was reduced to ashes.
4. Together with the cottage, --a sorry, antediluvian makeshift of
a building, you may think it, --what was of much more importance,
a fine litter of newborn pigs, no less than nine in number,
perished. China pigs have been esteemed a luxury all over the East
from the remotest periods we read of.
5. Bo-bo was in the utmost consternation, as you may think, not
so much for the sake of the tenement, which his father and he
could easily build up again with a few dry branches, and the labor
of an hour or two, at any time, as for the loss of the pigs. While he
was thinking what he should say to his father, and wringing his
hands over the smoking remnants of one of those untimely
sufferers, an odor assailed his nostrils unlike any scent which he
had before experienced.
6. What, could it proceed from? Not from the burnt cottage, --
he had smelt that smell before,— indeed, this was by no means the
first accident of the kind which had occurred through the
negligence of this unlucky young firebrand. Much less did it
resemble that of any known herb, weed, or flower. A premonitory
moistening at the same
FIFTH READER. 335
time overflowed his nether lip. He knew not what to think.
7. He next stooped down to feel the pig, if there were any signs
of life in it. He burnt his fingers, and to cool them he applied them
in his booby fashion to his mouth. Some of the crumbs of the
scorched skin had come away with his fingers, and for the first
time in his life (in the world's life, indeed, for before him no man
had known it) he itistcd—cracklingl Again he fell and fumbled at
the pig. It did not burn him so much now; still he licked his fingers
from a sort of habit.
8, The truth at length broke into his slow understanding thai it
was the pig that smelt so, and the pig that lasted so delicious; and
surrendering himself up to the newborn pleasure, he fell to tearing
up whole handfuls of the scorched skin with the flesh next it, and
was cramming it down his throat in his beastly fashion, when his
sire entered amid the smoking rafters, armed with a retribulory
cudgel, and, finding how affairs stood, began to rain blows upon
the young rogue's shoulders as thick as hailstones, which Bo-bo
heeded not any more than if they had been flies,
9, His father might lay on, but he could not beat him from his
pig till he had fairly made an end of it, when, becoming a little
more sensible of his situation, something like the following
dialogue ensued:
"You graceless whelp, what have you got there devouring? Is it
not enough that you have burnt me down three houses with your
dog's tricks, and be hanged to you! but you must be eating fire,
and I know not what? What have you got there, I say?"
"O father, the pig, the pig! do come and taste how nice the
burnt pig eats!"
10. The ears of Ho-ti tingled with horror. He cursed his son,
and he cursed himself that he should ever have a son that should
eat burnt pig.
Bo-bo, whose scent was wonderfully sharpened since
336 ECLECTIC SERIES.
morning, soon raked out another pig, and, fairly rending it
asunder, thrust the lesser half by main force into the fists of Ho-ti,
still shouting out, "Eat, eat, eal the burnt pig, father! only taste!
Oh!" with such like barbarous ejaculations, cramming all the
while as if he would choke.
1 1. Ho-ti trembled in every joint while he grasped the
abominable thing, wavering whether he should not put his son Xo
death for an unnatural young monster, when the crackling
scorching his fingers, as it had done his son's, and applying the
same remedy to them, he in his turn tasted some of its flavor,
which, make what sour mouths he would for a pretense, proved
not altogether displeasing to him. In conclusion (for the
manuscript here is a little tedious), both father and son fairly sal
down to the mess, and never left off till they had dispatched all
that remained of the litter.
12. Bo-bo was strictly enjoined not to let the secret escape, for
the neighbors would certainly have stoned them for a couple of
abominable wretches, who could think of improving upon the
good meat which God had sent them. Nevertheless strange stories
got about. It was observed that Ho-ti's cottage was burnt down
now more frequently than ever. Nothing but fires from this time
forward. Some would break out in broad day, others in the night-
lime; and Ho-ti himself, which was the more remarkable, instead
of chastising his son, seemed to grow more indulgent to him than
ever.
13. At length they were watched, the terrible mystery
discovered, and father and son summoned to lake their trial at
Pekin, then an inconsiderable assize town. Evidence was given,
the obnoxious food itself produced in court, and verdict about to
be pronounced, when the foreman of the jury begged that some of
the burnt pig, of which the culprits stood accused, might be
handed into the box.
14. He handled it, and they all handled it; and burning
FIFTH READER. 337
their fingers, as Bo-bo and his father had done before them, and
nature prompting to each of them the same remedy, against the
face of all the facts, and the clearest charge which the judge had
ever given, --to the surprise of the whole court, townsfolk,
strangers, reporters, and all present,— without leaving the box, or
any manner of consultation whatever, they brought in a
simultaneous verdict of "Not Guilty."
15- The judge, who was a shrewd fellow, winked at the
manifest iniquity of the decision; and when the court was
dismissed, went privily, and bought up all the pigs that could be
had for love or money. In a few days his lordship's townhouse was
obser\'ed to be on fire.
16, The thing took wing, and now there was nothing to be seen
but fire in every direction. Fuel and pigs grew enormously dear all
over the district. The insurance offices one and all shut up shop.
People built slighter and slighter every day, until it was feared that
the very science of architecture would in no long time be lost to
the world,
17, Thus this custom of firing houses continued till in process
of time, says my manuscript, a sage arose, like our Locke, who
made a discovery that the flesh of swine, or indeed of any other
animal, might be cooked (burnt, as they called it) without the
necessity of consuming a whole house to dress it.
18. Then first began the rude form of a gridiron. Roasting by
the siring or spit came in a century or two later; I forget in whose
dynasty. By such slow degrees, concludes the manuscript, do the
most useful, and seemingly the most obvious, arts make their way
among mankind.
19. Without placing too implicit faith in the account above
given, it must be agreed that if a worthy pretext for so dangerous
an experiment as setting houses on fire {especially in these days)
could be assigned in favor of any culinary object that pretext and
excuse might be found in Roast Pig.
338
ECLECTIC SERIES.
vi-n,3i (liborGLlly, exiniinff heffvrfi. f.he Jiood}, ver^ ancient, Makfj'sklft,
thai lo^M ansniers a nb^d fiifJi rA& ^s-si TH^fins ai h^Ti^. 6. IVfi-
m-fln'UtO-iy, ffivittif previous mirrmi^. 3. Ke-Lrib'u-to-jy, rsirniniififfr
r-ffialiaC{p?f. 12. En-joined.', arderfiU^ i^mmri'^iied- IS- Oli-iios'-
pflErfireFr;3AJif, rfrlg^, IS. Im-piji^itj Jrwsjifj.^ y^tfftottf rfowfic Cu'li-narry,
•retaiiiiff to £Jt€ kiXc7ien^
NOTES---!, Abyssinia is a country of eastern Africa.
2. Confucius {pro. Con-fu'she-us; the Chinese name is Kong-fu
tse', pro. Kong-foot-sa') was a celebrated Chinese philosopher {b.
551 B.C-) who did much for the moral improvement of his
country.
The Golden Age was supposed to be that period in the various
stages of human civilization when the greatest simplicity existed;
the fruits of the earth sprang up without cultivation, and spring
was the only season.
13. Pekin is the capital of China.
An assize tonn is a town where the assizes, or periodica!
sittings of a court, are held.
17. Lockeib. 1632, d. 1704) was one of the most illustrious of
English philosophers.
CXL A PEN PICTURE.
William Black (b. 1841,---) is one of the leading nnodern
novelist of England. The scenes of his stories are for the most part
laid in Scotland, and he excels in the delineation of Scotch
character. But his most remarkable power is seen in those vivid,
poetical descriptions of scenery, of which the following selection,
adapted from "The Princess of Thule," is a good example. Mr.
Black's most noted works, in addition to the one named, are: "A
Daughter of Helh," "The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton,"
"Kiimeny," and "McLeod of Dare."
I. Lavender had already transformed Sheila into a heroine
during the half hour of their stroll from the beach
DEFINITIONS. -3. Youn'k^rs, yottfig persons. 4. An-le-di-
lu'vi-an (literally, existing before the flood), very ancient.
Make'shlft, that which answers a need with the best means at
hand. 6. Premon'i-lo-ry, giving previous warning. 8. Re-
trib'u-to-ry, rewarding, retaliating. 12. En-joined', ordered,
commanded. 13. Ob-nox'-ious ij}ro. oh-nok'shus), liable to
censure, offensive. 18. Dy'niis-iy. sovereignty, reign. 19.1m-
plic'it, trusting without doubt, Cu'li-na-ry, relating to the
kitchen.
FIFTH READER. 339
and around the house; and as ihey sat at dinner on this still,
brilliant evening in summer, he clothed her in the garments of
romance.
2. Her father, with his great, gray beard and heavy brow,
became the King of Thule, living in this solitary house
overlooking the sea, and having memories of a dear sweetheart.
His daughter, the Princess, had the glamour of a thousand legends
dwelling in her beautiful eyes; and when she walked by the shores
of the Atlantic, that were now getting yellow under the sunset,
what strange and unutterable thoughts must appear in the wonder
of her face!
3. After dinner they went outside and sat down on a bench in
the garden. It was a cool and pleasant evening. The sun had gone
down in red fire behind the Atlantic, and there was still left a rich
glow of crimson in the west, while overhead, in the pale yellow of
the sky, some filmy clouds of rose color lay motionless. How calm
was the sea out there, and the whiter stretch of water coming into
Loch Roag! The cool air of the twilight was scented with
sweelbrier. The wash of the ripples along the coast could be heard
in the stillness.
4. The girl put her hand on her father's head, and reminded him
that she had had her big greyhound. Bras, imprisoned all the
afternoon, and that she had to go down to Borvabosl with a
message for some people who were leaving by the boat in the
morning.
"But you can not go away down to Borvabost by yourself.
Sheila," said Ingram. "It will be dark before you return."
"It will not be darker than this all the night through," said the
girl.
5. "But I hope you will let us go with you," said Lavender,
rather anxiously; and she assented with a gracious smile, and went
to fetch the great deerhound that was her constant companion.
And lo! he found himself
340 ECLECTIC SERIES.
walking with a Princess in this wonderland, through the magic
twilight thai prevails in northern latitudes. Mackenzie and Ingram
had gone to the front. The large deerhound, after regarding him
attentively, had gone to its mistress's side, and remained closely
there,
6. Even Sheila, when they had reached the loftiest part of their
route, and could see beneath them the island and the water
surrounding it, was struck by the exceeding beauty of the twilight;
and as for her companion, he remembered it many a time
thereafter, as if it were a dream of the sea.
7. Before them lay the Atlantic— a pale line of blue, stiJI, silent,
and remote. Overhead the sky was of a clear, thin gold, with heavy
masses of violet cloud stretched across from north to south, and
thickening as they got near the horizon. Down at their feet, near
the shore, a dusky line of huts and houses was scarcely visible;
and over these lay a pale blue film of peat smoke that did not
move in the still air.
8. Then they saw the bay into which the White Water runs, and
they could trace the yellow glimmer of the river stretching into the
island through a level valley of bog and morass. Far away towards
the east lay the bulk of the island, --dark green undulations of
moorland and pasture; and there, in the darkness, the gable of one
white house had caught the clear light of the sky, and was
gleaming westward like a star.
9. Bui all this was as nothing to the glory that began to shine in
the southeast, where the sky was of a pale violet over the peaks of
Mealasabhal and Suainabhal. There, into the beautiful dome, rose
the golden crescent of the moon, warm in color, as though it still
retained the last rays of the sunset. A line of quivering gold fell
across Loch Roag, and touched the black hull and spars of the boat
in which Sheila had been sailing in the morning.
10. That bay down there, with its white sands and massive
FIFTH READER.
341
rocks, its still expanse of water, and its background of mountain
peaks palely covered by the yellow moonlight, seemed really a
home for a magic princess who was shut off from all the world.
But here, in front of them, was another sort of sea, and another
sort of life, --a small fisliing village hidden under a cloud of pale
peat smoke, and fronting the great waters of the Atlantic itself,
which lay under a gloom of violet clouds.
1 1 . On the way home it was again Lavender's good fortune to
walk with Sheila across the moorland path they had traversed
some little time before. And now the moon was still higher in the
heavens, and the yellow lane of light that crossed the violet waters
of Loch Roag quivered in a deeper gold. The night air was scented
with the Dutch clover growing down by the shore- They could
hear the curlew whistling and the plover calling amid that
monotonous plash of the waves that murmured all around the
coast,
12. When they returned to the house, the darker waters of the
Atlantic and the purple clouds of the west were shut out from
sight: and before them there was only the liquid plain of Loch
Roag, with its pathway of yellow fire, and far away on the other
side the shoulders and peaks of the southern mountains, that had
grown gray and clear and sharp in the beautiful twilight. And this
was Sheila's home.
Definitions. — 2. GlSi'mo^ur (pr?. ^l3,'m5or), tPiVcSery, or m
cha^i'm fm the e^eji", mn^.in^ ik&iJi fi^S fAiVi^s tiiffere^iit^^ /fftm nfhal
the^ re<iU^ i^i^e- S^ LCeli {p^o. 10l{}i a fst^, a it^y ^v firm icff rh^^
kfiirliij, an aquatic bird i^hick ^fik€S hs n^me from it-i ^ry. Pliv'er
(i&^-o. pluv'er), <i ffoiji^ iArd frep^efUirig Tiv^r banks aM ths ^cii-
DEFINITIONS. -2. Gla'mour (/;;o. gla'moor), ii'/7W?m\ or
a charm on the eyes, making them see things differently
from ^vhat they really are. 3. Loch (pro. lok), a lake, a bay
or arm of the sea. 1 .Vc^i, a kind of turf used for fuel. II.
Cur'lew (pro. kur'lu), an aquatic bird which takes its name
from its cry, Plov'er {pro. pluv'er), a game bird frequenting
river banks and the seashore.
NOTES. --Of the characters mentioned in this selection, Sheila
is a young Scotch girl living on the small island of Borva, which
her father owns; it lies just west of Lewis, one of the
342 ECLECTIC SERIES.
Hebrides. Ingrain is an old friend and frequent visitor, while
Lavender, a friend of Ingram's, is on his first visit to the island.
2. Thule (pro. Thu'le) is the name given by an ancient Greek
navigator, Pylheas, lo the northernmost region of Europe. The
exact locality of Thule is a disputed point.
3. Loch Roag (pro. Rog') is all inlet of the sea, west of Lewis,
in which Borva is situated.
4. Borvabost^ a little town at Borva, Bost means an inhabited
place,
9^ Mealasabhal and Sitainabhal ^tq mountains on the island of
Lewis. Bhal is Gaelic for mountain.
CXIL THE GREAT VOICES.
Charles T, Brooks (b. 1813, d. I833}[l] was born at Salem,
Mass., and was the valedictorian of his class at Harvard College,
where he graduated in 1832, He shortly afterwards entered the
ministry, and had charge of a congregation at Newport, R,I. He
was a great student of German literature, and began his own
literary career by a translations of Schiller's "William TelL" This
was followed by numerous translations from the German, mainly
poetry, which have been published from time to time, in several
volumes. Of these translations, Goethe's "Faust," Richler's "Titan"
and "Hesperus," and a humorous poem by Dr. Karl Arnold
Kortum, "The Life, Opinions, Actions, and Fate of Hieronimus
Jobs, the Candidate," deserve especial mention. Mr. Brooks also
published a number of original poems, addresses, etc.
1 . A voice from the sea to the mountains.
From the mountains again lo the sea;
A call from the deep to the fountains, --
"O spirit! be glad and be free."
2. A cry from the floods lo the fountains;
And the torrents repeal the glad song
As they leap from the breast of the mountains,--
"O spirit! be free and be strong."
[Transcriber's Note 1: The correct dates are June, 20 1813 to June
14, 1883.]
FIFTH READER. 343
3. The pine forests thrill with emotion
Of praise, as the spirit sweeps by:
With a voice like the murmur of ocean
To the soul of the listener they cry.
4. Oh! sing, human heart, like the fountains,
With joy reverential and free.
Contented and calm as the mountains.
And deep as the woods and the sea.
CXIIL A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE,
Samuel Johnson(/?. 1709, d. 1784). This remarkable man was
born in Lichfield, Staffordshire, England. He was the son of a
bookseller and stationer. He entered Pembroke College, Oxford, in
1728; but his poverty compelled him to leave at the end of three
years. Soon after his marriage, in 1736, he opened a private
school, but obtained only three pupils, one of whom was David
Garrick, afterwards a celebrated actor. In 1737, he removed to
London, where he resided most of the rest of his life. The most
noted of his numerous literary works are his "Dictionary," the first
one of the English language worthy of mention, "The Vanity of
Human Wishes," a poem, "The Rambler," "Rasselas," "The Lives
of the English Poets," and his edition of Shakespeare. An annual
pension of 300 pounds was granted him in 1762.
In person, Johnson was heavy and awkward; in manner, boorish
and overbearing; but his learning and his great powers caused his
company to be sought by many eminent men.
L Obidah, the son of Abnesina, left the caravansary early in the
morning, and pursued his journey through the plains of Hindostan.
He was fresh and vigorous with rest; he was animated with hope;
he was incited by desire; he walked swiftly forward over the
valleys, and saw the hills gradually rising before him.
2, As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the morning
song of the bird of paradise; he was fanned by the last flutters of
the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with dew by groves of spices; he
sometimes contemplated
344 ECLECTIC SERIE'S.
towering height of the oak, monarch of the hills; and someUmes
caught the gentle fragrance of the primrose, eldest daughter of the
spring; all his senses were gratified, and all care was banished
from his heart.
3. Thus he went on, till the sun approached his meridian, and
the increasing heal preyed upon his strength; he then looked round
about him for some more commodious path. He saw, on his right
hand, a grove that seemed to wave its shades as a sign of
invitation; he entered it, and found the coolness and verdure
irresistibly pleasant. He did not, however, forget whither he was
traveling, but found a narrow way, bordered with flowers, which
appeared to have the same direction with the main road, and was
pleased, that, by this happy experiment, he had found means to
unite pleasure with business, and to gain the rewards of diligence
without suffering its fatigues.
4. He, therefore, still continued to walk for a lime, without the
least remission of his ardor, except that he was sometimes tempted
to stop by the music of the birds, which the heat had assembled in
the shade, and sometimes amused himself with picking the flowers
that covered the banks on each side, or the fruits that hung upon
the branches. At last, the green path began to decline from its first
tendency, and to wind among the hills and thickets, cooled with
fountains, and murmuring with waterfalls.
5. Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to consider
whether it was longer safe to forsake the known and common
track; but, remembering that the heat was now in its greatest
violence, and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he resolved to
pursue the new path, which he supposed only to make a few
meanders, in compliance with the garieties of the ground, and to
end at last in the common road.
6. Having thus calmed his solicitude, he renewed his pace,
though he suspected he was not gaining ground.
FIFTH READER. 345
This uneasiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new
object, and give way to every sensation that might soothe or divert
him. He listened to every echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh
prospect, he turned aside to every cascade, and pleased himself
with tracing the course of a gentle river that rolled among the
trees, and watered a large region, with innumerable
circumvolutions.
7. In these amusements, the hours passed away uncounted; his
deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not toward
what point to travel. He stood pensive and confused, afraid to go
forward lest he should go wrong, yet conscious that the lime of
loitering was now past. While he was thus tortured with
uncertainty, the sky was overspread with clouds, the day vanished
from before him, and a sudden tempest gathered round his head.
8. He was now roused by his danger to a quick and painful
remembrance of his folly; he now saw how happiness is lost when
ease is consulted; he lamented the unmanly impatience that
prompted him to seek shelter in the grove, and despised the petty
curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus
reflecting, the air grew blacker and a clap of thunder broke his
meditation.
9. He now resolved to do what remained yet in his power; to
tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find some
issue where the wood might open into the plain. He prostrated
himself upon the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of
nature. He rose with confidence and tranquillity, and pressed on
with his saber in his hand; for the beasts of the desert were in
motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage,
and fear, and ravage, and expiration; all the horrors of darkness
and solitude surrounded him; the winds roared in the woods, and
the torrents tumbled from the hills.
10. Thus, forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the wild
without knowing whither he was going or whether
346 ECLECTIC SERIES.
he was every moment drawing nearer to safely or to destruction.
At length, not fear but labor began to overcome him; his breath
grew short, and his knees trembled, and he was on the point of
lying down, in resignation to his fate, when he beheld, through the
brambles, the glimmer of a taper. He advanced toward the light,
and finding that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he
called humbly at the door, and obtained admission. The old man
set before him such provisions as he had collected for himself, on
which Obidah fed with eagerness and gratitude,
1 1. When the repast was over, "Tell me," said the hermit, "by
what chance thou hast been brought hither; I have been now
twenty years an inhabitant of this wilderness, in which I never saw
a man before." Obidah then related the occurrences of his journey,
without any concealment or palliation.
12. "Son," said the hermit, "let the errors and follies, the
dangers and escapes, of this day, sink deep into your heart-
Remember, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We
rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor, and full of expectation;
we set forward with spirit and hope, with gayety and with
diligence, and travel on awhile in the straight road of piety toward
the mansions of rest. In a short time we remit our fervor, and
endeavor to find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy
means of obtaining the same end.
13. "We then relax our vigor, and resolve no longer to be
terrified with crimes at a distance, but rely upon our own
constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve never to
touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose in the shades
of security. Here the heart softens, and vigilance subsides; we are
then willing lo inquire whether another advance can not be made,
and whether we may not at least turn our eyes upon the gardens of
pleasure. We approach them with scruple and hesitation; we
FIFTH READER.
347
enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always hope to
pass through them without losing the road of virtue, which we for
a while keep in our sight, and to which we propose to return.
14. "Bui temptation succeeds temptation, and one compliance
prepares us for another; we, in time, lose the happiness of
innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual gratifications- By
degrees we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and
quit the only adequate object of rational desire. We entangle
ourselves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove
through the labyrinths of inconstancy till the darkness of old age
begins to invade us. and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We
then look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, and with
repentance; and wish, but loo often vainly wish, that we had not
forsaken the paths of virtue.
15. "Happy are they, my son, who shall learn, from thy
example, not to despair, but shall remember that though the day is
past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one effort to
be made; that reformation is never hopeless, nor sincere endeavors
ever unassisted; that the wanderer may at length return after all his
errors; and that he who implores strength and courage from above,
shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Go now. my
son, to thy repose: commit thyself to the care of Omnipotence; and
when the morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and
thy life."
tch^re caravfitig (or Itir^e eompanies qftrofierfi} r£?t flf ni^7i.l- 5r Mg-
an'derg, wiruiini/^, tztrrtin^f^. 0. Cir-cnrrt-vo-lu liong^ whidin^^t or
Jhiph^S ^onnd. 7» De-ti^a'tionfj taar^hr^f^K fiom one$ ci>ur.*e,
0. Ex-i['i-ii.''t-jr>ii, dtiiUh^ 11- Pallia' Uoij^ vomGni^ne^'U e/ the ijnw^
hio.mf^h circTtm}ifiin^-P£ af an offsnss. 12. Mltr-i-ga'tion, {ihafefncnt^
th& nd of jvn^ermff les^^ RffrerF.. I^E. Ad'fl-qiiatEj yUif^ rfT|//«ritiJ'J-
Liib'y-rirttlij a piac^ f^tl! u/^oindiii^ }xmagt!^'
DEFINITIONS.— 1. Car-a-van sa-ry. a kind of inn in the East,
where caravans (or large companies of traders) rest at night. 5.
Me-an'ders, windings, turnings, 6, Cir-cum-vo-lu'tions, windings
or flowings around. 7. De-vi-a'tions, wanderins from one's
course. 9. Ex-pi-ra'tion, death. 11. Pal-li-a'lion, concealment of
the most blamable circumstances of an offence. 12. Mit-i-ga'tion,
abatement, the act of rendering less severe. 14. Ad'e-quate,/i///v
sufficient. Lab'y-rinth, a place full of winding passages.
348 ECLECTIC SERIES.
CXIV. A SUMMER LONGING,
George Arnold (b. 1834, d. 1865) was born in New York, but
removed with his parents to Illinois while yet an infant- There he
passed his boyhood, being educated at home by his parents. In
1849 the family again removed to Strawberry Farms, Monmouth
County, N.J. When eighteen years old he began to study painting,
but soon gave up the art and devoted himself to literature. He
became a journalist of New York City, and his productions
include almost every variety of writings found in the literary
magazines. After his death, two volumes of his poems, "Drift: a
Seashore Idyl," and "Poems, Grave and Gay," were edited by Mr.
William Winter.
1. I must away to the wooded hills and vales,
Where broad, slow streams flow cool and silently
And idle barges flap their listless sails.
For me the summer sunset glows and pales,
And green fields wait for me.
2. I long for shadowy founts, where the birds
Twitter and chirp at noon from every tree;
I long for blossomed leaves and lowing herds;
And Nature's voices say in mystic words,
"The green fields wait for thee."
3. I dream of uplands, where the primrose shines
And waves her yellow lamps above the lea;
Of tangled copses, swung with trailing vines;
Of open vistas, skirted with tall pines.
Where green fields wait for me.
4. I think of long, sweet afternoons, when I
May lie and listen to the distant sea.
Or hear the breezes in the reeds that sigh,
Or insect voices chirping shrill and dry.
In fields that wait for me.
FIFTH READER. 349
5. These dreams of summer come to bid me find
The forest's shade, the wild bird's melody,
While summer's rosy wreaths for me are twined.
While summer's fragrance lingers on the wind.
And green fields wait for me.
CXV. FATE,
Francis Bret Harte (b. 1839,--) was born in Albany, N.Y.
When seventeen years old he went to California, where he
engaged in various employments. He was a teacher, was employed
in government offices, worked in the gold mines, and learned to
be a compositor in a printing office. In 1868 he started the
"Overland Monthly," and his original and characteristic poems
and sketches soon made it a popular magazine. Mr. Harle has been
a contributor to some of the leading periodicals of the country, but
principally to the "Atlantic Monthly/'
1. "The sky is clouded, the rocks are bare;
The spray of the tempest is white in air;
The winds are out with the waves at play,
And I shall not tempt the sea to-day.
2. "The trail is narrow, the wood is dim.
The panther clings to the arching limb;
And the lion's whelps are abroad at play.
And I shall not join in the chase to-day/'
3. But the ship sailed safely over the sea.
And the hunters came from the chase in glee;
And the town that was builded upon a rock
Was swallowed up in the earthquake shock.
350 ECLECTIC SERIES.
CXVL THE BIBLE THE BEST OE CLASSICS.
Thomas S. Grimke (b. 1786, d. 1834). This eminent lawyer and
scholar was born in Charleston, S.C. He graduated at Yale College
in 1807. 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.
L There is a classic the best the world has ever seen, the
noblest that has ever honored and dignified the language of
mortals. If we look into its antiquity, we discover a title to our
veneration unrivaled in the history of literature. If we have respect
to its evidences, they are found in the testimony of miracle and
prophecy; in the ministry of man, of nature, and of angels, yea,
even of "God, manifest in the flesh," of "God blessed forever."
2. If we consider its authenticity, no other pages have survived
the lapse of lime that can be compared with it. If we examine its
authority, for it speaks as never man spake, we discover that it
came from heaven in vision and prophecy under the sanction of
Him who is Creator of all things, and the Giver of every good and
perfect gift,
3, If we reflect on its truths, they are lovely and spotless,
sublime and holy as God himself, unchangeable as his nature,
durable as his righteous dominion, and versatile as the moral
condition of mankind. If we regard the value of its treasures, we
must estimate them, not like the relics of classic antiquity, by the
perishable glory and beauty, virtue and happiness, of this world,
but by the enduring perfection and supreme felicity of an eternal
kingdom.
4, If we inquire who are the men that have recorded its truths,
vindicated its rights, and illustrated the excellence of its scheme,
from the depth of ages and from the living world, from the
populous continent and the isles of the sea, comes forth the
answer: "The patriarch and the prophet, the evangelist and the
martyr."
5. If we look abroad through the world of men, the victims of
folly or vice, the prey of cruelly, of injustice.
FIFTH READER.
351
and inquire what are its benefits, even in this temporal state, the
great and the humble, the rich and the poor, the powerful and the
weak, the learned and the ignorant reply, as wilh one voice, that
humility and resignation, purity, order, and peace, faith, hope, and
charily are its blessings upon earth-
6. And if. raising our eyes from time to eternity; from the world
of mortals to the world of just men made perfect; from the visible
creation, marvelous, beautiful, and glorious as it is, to the invisible
creation of angels and seraphs; from the footstool of God to the
throne of God himself, we ask, what are the blessings that flow
from this single volume, let the question be answered by the pen
of the evangelist, the harp of the prophet, and the records of the
book of life.
7. Such is the best of classics the world has ever admired; such,
the noblest thai man has ever adopted as a guide.
IJKi-'l^i'floN'BF — It -CISk'^is^ m icoi'i of fiof^iio^^'f-^if^ed fixcfiffffwce
unrl aulkojii^. 2. Au-tli-eu-tl^'^tyj of c.H'^i^lijiJKd aurhiM-Hi; far If^lh
and cifjfTectTi&^ii, SaTjation (jjr^. ajinkr'ahuiii), aulhoytii^f ;^-apporL
S. VSi"'3a-tTle^ n^^iuM^ applisfi fo ijarimnf ^nlj^cts^ 4- Viii di-eiLtr6d,
defiinfledi fustiJifxL E-v-an g^irst, a w^r'if^:r of the hisior^ of Jes^
ChrisL Hi SBr'apii, an amjd of i^s ki^fie.'fi on^'tr.
CXVIL MY MOTHER'S BIBLE.
George P, Morris (b. 1802, d. 1864) was born in Philadelphia.
In 1823 he became one of the editors of the "New York Mirror," a
weekly literary paper. In 1846 Mr. Morris and N, P. Willis
founded "The Home Journal." He was associate editor of this
popular journal until a short lime before his death.
DEFINITIONS.- 1. Clas'sic, a work of acknowledged
excellence and authority. 2. Au-then-lic'i-ty, of established
authority for truth and correctness. Sanc'lion Ipro^
sank'shun), authority, support. 3. Ver'sa-lile, readily
applied to various subjects. 4. Vin di-cat-ed, defended,
justified. E-van'gel-ist, a writer of the history of Jesus
Christ. 6. Ser'aph, an angel of the highest order.
I. This book is all that's left me now,—
Tears will unbidden start, --
With faltering lip and throbbing brow
I press it to my heart-
352 ECLECTIC SERIES.
For many generations past
Here is our family tree;
My mother's hands this Bible clasped,
She, dying, gave it me,
2. Ah! well do I remember those
Whose names these records bear;
Who round the hearthstone used to close,
After the evening prayer.
And speak of what these pages said
In tones mv heart would thrill!
Though they are with the silent dead,
Here are they living still!
3. My father read this holy hook
To brothers, sisters, dear;
How calm was my poor mother's look.
Who loved God's word to hear!
Her angel face,--I see it yet!
What thronging memories come!
Again that little group is met
Within the walls of home!
4. Thou truest friend man ever knew,
Thy constancy I've tried;
When all were false, I found thee true.
My counselor and guide.
The mines of earth no treasures give
That could this volume buy;
In teaching me the way to live.
It taught me how to die.
