UN OS TEN TA' TIOUS, plain; not showy.
RE VER EN' TIAL, deeply respectful.
RE CEP' TA CLE, place of reception.
SEM' I CIR CLE, half-circle.
REC OG NI' TION, act of knowing.
AG RI CUL' TUR AL, relating to farming.
BEN E DIC' TION, blessing.
DI' A RY, note-book; journal.
SO JOURN' ED, resided for a while.
AC CLA MA' TIONS, shouts.
TRI UMPH' AL, relating to victory.
GRAT U LA' TION, rejoicing.
IN AUG U RA' TION, act of investing with office.
EN FRAN' CHIS ED, freed; liberated.
[Headnote 1: SAR COPH' A GUS, (SARCO, _flesh_; and PHAGUS, _that which
eats or devours_,) is made up of two Greek words, signifying together
_flesh-eating_, and was applied by the ancients to a species of stone,
used for making coffins. Hence, sarcophagus came to signify a
_stone-coffin_. The form of the plural in Latin, is _sarcophagi_.]
[Headnote 2: BAS' TILE, (_bas' teel_,) an old state prison in Paris,
built in 1369, and destroyed by a mob in 1789.]
VISIT TO MOUNT VERNON.
A.C. RITCHIE.
1. At this moment, we drew near the rude wharf at Mount Vernon; the boat
stopped, and the crowd of passengers landed. By a narrow pathway we
ascended a majestic hill thickly draped with trees. The sun scarcely
found its way through the luxuriant foliage. We mounted slowly, but had
only spent a few minutes in ascending, when we came suddenly upon a
picturesque nook, where a cluster of unostentatious, white marble
shafts, shot from the greenly sodded earth, inclosed by iron railings.
Those unpretending monuments mark the localities where repose the mortal
remains of Washington's kindred.
2. Just beyond stands a square brick building. In the center you see an
iron gate. Here the crowd pauses in reverential silence. Men lift their
hats and women bow their heads. You behold within, two sarcophagi.
[Headnote 1] In those moldering tombs lie the ashes of the great
Washington and his wife. Not a word is uttered as the crowd stand
gazing on this lowly receptacle of the dust of America's mighty dead.
3. Are there any in that group who can say, "this was _our_ country's
father'?" If there be, can they stand pilgrims at that grave without
Washington's examples, his counsels, his words, heretofore, it may be,
half-forgotten, stealing back into their minds, until the sense of
reverence and gratitude is deepened almost to awe? Do they not feel that
Washington's spirit is abroad in the world, filling the souls of a
heaven-favored people with the love of freedom and of country, though
his ashes are gathered here'?
4. Some one moves to pass on; and, with that first step, the spell is
broken; others follow. Herman and Jessie linger last. After a period of
mute and moving reflection, they turn away and slowly approach the
mansion that, in simple, rural stateliness, stands upon a noble
promontory, belted with woods, and half-girdled by the sparkling waters
of the Potomac, which flow in a semicircle around a portion of the
mount.
5. The water and woodland view from the portico is highly imposing. But
it was not the mere recognition of the picturesque and beautiful in
nature, that moved Herman and Jessie. They would have felt that they
were on holy ground, had the landscape been devoid of natural charm.
Here the feet of the first of heroes had trod, and here, in boyhood, he
had sported with his beloved brother Lawrence.
6. In those forests, those deep-wooded glens, he had hunted, when a
stripling, by the side of old Lord Fairfax; here he took his first
lessons in the art of war; to this home he brought his bride; by this
old-fashioned, hospitable-looking fireside, he sat with that dear and
faithful wife; beneath yonder alley of lofty trees he has often wandered
by her side; here he indulged the agricultural tastes in which he
delighted; here resigned his Cincinnatus vocation, and bade adieu to his
cherished home at the summons of his country.
7. Here his wife received the letter which told her that he had been
appointed Commander-in-chief of the army; here, when the glorious
struggle closed at the trumpet notes of victory--when the British had
retired--when, with tears coursing down his benignant, manly
countenance, he had uttered a touching farewell--bestowed a paternal
benediction on the American army, and resigned all public service--
_here_ he returned, thinking to resume the rural pursuits that charmed
him, and to end his days in peace!
8. Here are the trees, the shrubbery he planted with his own hands, and
noted in his diary; here are the columns of the portico round which he
twined the coral honeysuckle; the ivy he transplanted still clings to
yonder garden wall; these vistas he opened through yon pine groves to
command far-off views! Here the valiant Lafayette sojourned with him;
there hangs the key of the Bastile [Headnote 2] which he presented.
9. Here flocked the illustrious men of all climes, and were received
with warm, unpretending, almost rustic hospitality. Here the French
Houdon modeled his statue, and the English Pine painted his portrait,
and caused that jocose remark, "I am so hackneyed to the touches of the
painters' pencil, that I am altogether at their beck, and sit like
'Patience on a monument!'"
10. Then came another summons from the land he had saved, and he was
chosen by unanimous voice its chief ruler. Thousands of men, women, and
children, sent up acclamations, and called down blessings on his head,
as he made his triumphal progress from Mount Vernon to New York, to take
the presidential oath. The roar of cannon rent the air. The streets
through which he passed, were illuminated and decked with flags and
wreaths. Bonfires blazed on the hills. From ships and boats floated
festive decorations. At Gray's Ferry, he passed under triumphal arches.
11. On the bridge across the Assumpink, at Trenton, (the very bridge
over which he had retreated in such blank despair, before the army of
Cornwallis, on the eve of the battle of Princeton,) thirteen pillars,
twined with laurel and evergreens, were reared by woman's hands. The
foremost of the arches those columns supported, bore the inscription,
_"The Defender of the Mothers will he the Protector of the Daughters."_
Mothers, with their white-robed daughters, were assembled beneath the
vernal arcade. Thirteen maidens scattered flowers beneath his feet, as
they sang an ode of gratulation. The people's hero ever after spoke of
this tribute, as the one that touched him most deeply.
13. When his first presidential term expired, and his heart yearned for
the peace of his domestic hearth, the entreaties of Jefferson, Randolph,
and Hamilton, forced him to forget that home for the one he held in the
hearts of patriots, and to allow his name to be used a second time. A
second time he was unanimously elected to preside over his country's
welfare. But, the period happily expired, he thankfully laid aside the
mantle of state, the scepter of power, and, five days after the
inauguration of Adams, returned here to his Mount Vernon home. And here
the good servant, whom his Lord, when He came, found watching and ready,
calmly yielded up his breath, exclaiming, "It is well!" and his spirit
was wafted to Heaven by the blessings of his enfranchised countrymen.
QUESTIONS.--1. Where is Mount Vernon? 2. What is said of Washington's
tomb? 3. Mention some of the things which he did here? 4. What
demonstrations were made by the people, as he went to New York to take
the oath of office? 5. Did he serve more than one term as President?
* * * * *
LESSON XCIX.
CHIV' AL ROUS, gallant; heroic.
HAL' LOW, consecrate; keep sacred.
MER' CE NA RY, mean; venal.
AD VEN' TUR ER, fortune-seeker.
VAN' QUISH ED, conquered.
OUT' CAST, exile; castaway.
TRAP' PINGS, ornaments; equipments.
CRU SADE', battle zealously.
CA REER' ED, moved rapidly.
PHAL' ANX, compact body of men.
TRANS PORT' ING, exulting.
TRO PHIES, memorials of victory.
PA' GEANT, pompous; showy.
MIN' ION, favorite.
LA FAYETTE.
CHARLES SPRAGUE.
1. While we bring our offerings for the mighty of our _own_ land, shall
we not remember the chivalrous spirits of _other_ shores, who shared
with them the hour of weakness and woe'? Pile to the clouds the majestic
column of glory`; let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each
spot where the bones of your bold repose`; but forget not those who,
with your bold, went out to battle.
2. Among those men of noble daring, there was _one_, a young and gallant
stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills of his delightful France. The
people whom he came to succor, were not _his_ people; he knew them only
in the melancholy story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary adventurer,
striving for the spoil of the vanquished; the palace acknowledged him
for its lord, and the valley yielded him its increase. He was no
nameless man, staking life for reputation; he ranked among nobles, and
looked unawed upon kings.
3. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to hide a broken
heart; he was girdled by the companions of his childhood; his kinsmen
were about him; his wife was before him. Yet from all these loved ones
he turned away. Like a lofty tree that shakes down its green glories, to
battle with the winter storm, he flung aside the trappings of place and
pride, to crusade for Freedom, in Freedom's holy land. He came`; but not
in the day of successful rebellion', not when the new-risen sun of
Independence had burst the cloud of time, and careered to its place in
the heavens'.
4. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the tempest was abroad
in its anger`; when the plow stood still in the field of promise, and
briers cumbered the garden of beauty`; when fathers were dying, and
mothers were weeping over them`; when the wife was binding up the gashed
bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death-damp from the
brow of her lover`. He came when the brave began to fear the power of
man, and the pious to doubt the favor of God. It was _then_ that this
one joined the ranks of a revolted people.
5. Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. With them he
courted the battle's rage; with theirs, his arm was lifted; with theirs,
his blood was shed. Long and doubtful was the conflict. At length, kind
Heaven smiled on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The
profane were driven from the temple of Liberty, and, at her pure shrine,
the pilgrim-warrior, with his adored commander, knelt and worshiped.
Leaving there his offering, the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at
length rose, and, crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet
toward his long-deserted home.
6. After nearly fifty years, that _one_ has come again. Can mortal
tongue tell? can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of that coming?
Exulting millions rejoice in it; and their loud, long, transporting
shout, like the mingling of many winds, rolls on, undying, to Freedom's
farthest mountains. A congregated nation comes around him. Old men bless
him, and children reverence him. The lovely come out to look upon him;
the learned deck their halls to greet him; the rulers of the land rise
up to do him homage.
7. How his full heart labors! He views the rusting trophies of departed
days; he treads the high places where his brethren molder; he bends
before the tomb of his "father;" [Footnote: Washington] his words are
tears,--the speech of sad remembrance. But he looks round upon a
ransomed land and a joyous race; he beholds the blessings these trophies
secured, for which these brethren died, for which that "father" lived;
and again his words are tears,--the eloquence of gratitude and joy.
8. Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead multitudes revive;
and of all the pageant splendors that ever glittered to the sun, when
looked his burning eye on a sight like this? Of all the myriads that
have come and gone, what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this?
Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own freedom; but who, like
this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of strangers?
9. Others have lived in the love of their own people; but who, like this
man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome with another? Matchless
chief! of glory's immortal tablets there is one for him, for _him_
alone! Oblivion shall never shroud its splendor; the everlasting flame
of Liberty shall guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the
name recorded there, the beloved name of LA FAYETTE.
QUESTIONS.--1. Of what country was La Fayette a native? 2. What was his
position at home? 3. In what condition was this country when he came to
join our army? 4. How many years after, before he revisited this
country? 5. What demonstrations were manifested by the people? 6. What
is said of his fame?
* * * * *
LESSON C.
PRO FU' SION, abundance; variety.
CON FU' SION, intricacy; indistinct movement.
COM MO TION, agitation; shaking.
RE SULT', effect.
DI MIN' ISH, lessen.
MYS' TER Y, maze; secrecy.
HIS' TO RY, plain matter of fact.
PA' GES, boy-servants; attendants.
SPAR' RING, boxing; disputing.
PUP' PETS, dolls; small figures of persons.
FIN ISH, completion.
GLO' RI OUS, grand; splendid.
RE JECT, refuse; deny.
RE FLECT' ED, turned back; borrowed.
THE MYSTIC WEAVER.
REV. DR. HARBAUGH.
1. Weaver at his loom is sitting,
Throws his shuttle to and fro;
Foot and treadle,
Hand and pedal,
Upward, downward,
Hither, thither,
How the weaver makes them go!
As the weaver _wills_ they go.
Up and down the web is plying,
And across the woof is flying;
What a rattling!
What a battling!
What a shuffling!
What a scuffling!
As the weaver makes his shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.
2. Threads in single,
Threads in double;
How they mingle!
What a trouble,
Every color!
What profusion!
Every motion--
What confusion!
While the web and woof are mingling,
Signal bells above are jingling,
Telling how each figure ranges,
Telling when the color changes,
As the weaver makes his shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.
3. Weaver at his loom is sitting,
Throws his shuttle to and fro;
'Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the weaver seems to know,
As he makes his shuttle go,
What each motion,
And commotion,
What each fusion,
And confusion,
In the _grand result_ will show:
Weaving daily,
Singing gayly,
As he makes his busy shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.
4. Weaver at his loom is sitting,
Throws his shuttle to and fro;
See you not how shape and order
From the wild confusion grow,
As he makes his shuttle go'?
As the web and woof diminish,
Grows beyond the beauteous finish:
Tufted plaidings,
Shapes and shadings,
All the mystery
Now is history:
And we see the reason subtle,
Why the weaver makes his shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.
5. See the Mystic Weaver sitting,
High in Heaven--His loom below.
Up and down the treadles go:
Takes for web the world's long ages,
Takes for woof its kings and sages,
Takes the nobles and their pages,
Takes all stations and all stages.
Thrones are bobbins in His shuttle;
Armies make them scud and scuttle.
6. Web into the woof must flow,
Up and down the nations go,
As the Weaver _wills_ they go.
Men are sparring,
Powers are jarring,
Upward, downward,
Hither, thither,
See how strange the nations go,
Just like puppets in a show.
Up and down the web is plying
And across the woof is flying.
What a rattling!
What a battling!
What a shuffling!
What a scuffling!
As the Weaver makes His shuttle
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle.
7. Calmly see the Mystic Weaver,
Throw His shuttle to and fro;
'Mid the noise and wild confusion,
Well the Weaver seems to know
What each motion
And commotion,
What each fusion
And confusion,
In the grand result will show,
As the nations,
Kings and stations,
Upward, downward,
Hither, thither,
As in mystic dances, go.
8. In the Present all is mystery,
In the Past 'tis beauteous History.
O'er the mixing and the mingling,
How the signal bells are jingling!
See you not the Weaver leaving
Finished work behind in weaving'?
See you not the reason subtle,
As the web and woof diminish,
Changing into beauteous finish,
Why the Weaver makes His shuttle,
Hither, thither, scud and scuttle'?
9. _Glorious wonder_! What a weaving!
To the dull beyond believing!
Such no fabled ages know.
Only Faith can see the mystery
How, along the aisle of History
Where the feet of sages go,
Loveliest to the purest eyes,
Grand the mystic tapet lies!
Soft and smooth and even-spreading
As if made for angels' treading;
Tufted circles touching ever,
Inwrought figures fading never;
Every figure has its plaidings,
Brighter form and softer shadings;
Each illuminated,--what a riddle!--
From a Cross that gems the middle.
10. 'Tis a saying--some reject it,--
That its light is all reflected:
That the tapet's hues are given
By a Sun that shines in Heaven!
'Tis believed, by all believing
That great God Himself is weaving!
Bringing out the world's dark mystery
In the light of Faith and History;
And, as web and woof diminish,
Comes the grand and glorious finish:
When begin the golden ages,
Long foretold by seers and sages.
QUESTIONS.--1. Describe the process of weaving. 2. Who are weaving the
web of history?
* * * * *
LESSON CI.
CON FOUND', perplex; confuse.
WOOF, cloth; texture.
RAR' ER, scarcer; more excellent.
PRAI' RIES, large tracts of land, with few trees, and covered
with grass.
SAV' AGE, wild; uncultivated.
SAVAN'NA, open meadow or plain.
PI O NEERS', persons that go before to prepare the way for
others.
SCOUTS, spies.
HEART' EN, encourage.
SCAN' NED, closely examined.
CLEAV' ING, parting; separating.
HOL' I DAY, day of rest or joy.
WORK AWAY.
HARPERS' MAGAZINE.
1. Work away!
For the Master's eye is on us,
Never off us, still upon us,
Night and day!
Work away!
Keep the busy fingers plying,
Keep the ceaseless shuttles flying,
See that never thread lie wrong;
Let not clash or clatter round us,
Sound of whirring wheels, confound us;
Steady hand! let woof be strong
And firm, that has to last so long?
Work away!
2. Keep upon the anvil ringing
Stroke of hammer; on the gloom
Set 'twixt cradle and the tomb,
Showers of fiery sparkles flinging;
Keep the mighty furnace glowing;
Keep the red ore hissing, flowing
Swift within the ready mold;
See that each one than the old
Still be fitter, still be fairer
For the servant's use, and rarer
For the Master to behold:
Work away!
3. Work away!
For the Leader's eye is on us,
Never off us, still upon us,
Night and day!
Wide the trackless prairies round us,
Dark and unsunned woods surround us,
Steep and savage mountains bound us;
Far away
Smile the soft savannas green,
Rivers sweep and roll between:
Work away!
4. Bring your axes, woodmen true;
Smite the forest till the blue
Of heaven's sunny eye looks through
Every wild and tangled glade;
Jungled swamp and thicket shade
Give to day!
5. O'er the torrents fling your bridges,
Pioneers! Upon the ridges
Widen, smooth the rocky stair,--
They that follow far behind
Coming after us, will find
Surer, easier footing there;
Heart to heart, and hand with hand,
From the dawn to dusk of day,
Work away!
Scouts upon the mountain's peak,--
Ye that see the Promised Land,
Hearten us! for ye can speak
Of the Country ye have scanned,
Far away!
6. Work away!
For the Father's eye is on us,
Never off us, still upon us,
Night and day!
WORK AND PRAY!
Pray! and Work will be completer;
Work! and Prayer will be the sweeter;
Love! and Prayer and Work the fleeter
Will ascend upon their way!
7. Fear not lest the busy finger
Weave a net the soul to stay;
Give her wings,--she will not linger,
Soaring to the source of day;
Clearing clouds that still divide us
From the azure depths of rest,
She will come again! beside us,
With the sunshine on her breast,
Sit, and sing to us, while quickest
On their task the fingers move,
While the outward din wars thickest,
Songs that she hath learned above.
8. Live in Future as in Present;
Work for both while yet the day
Is our own! for lord and peasant,
Long and bright as summer's day,
Cometh, yet more sure, more pleasant,
Cometh soon our Holiday;
Work away!
* * * * *
LESSON CII.
PROP O SI' TION, proposal.
AD HE' SION, attraction.
AB SURD I TY, folly; nonsense.
VIS' ION ARY, fanciful; imaginary.
DIS CUS' SION, debate; controversy.
THE' O RY, idea; scheme of doctrine.
AM BAS' SA DOR, messenger; deputy.
NAV' I GA TORS, voyagers; seamen.
SPEC U LA' TION, theory; mental view.
EN' TER PRISE, attempt; undertaking.
FRI VOL' I TY, levity; triflingness.
PRE SENT' I MENT, previous notice.
AN TIP' O DES, (ANTI, _opposite_; PODES, _the feet_;) having
their feet opposite to ours; that is, living on the other side
of the earth.
[Headnote 1: GEN O ESE', a native of Genoa,--a famous fortified seaport
city in Northern Italy.]
[Headnote 2: LAC TAN' TIUS, one of the fathers of the Latin church, born
about the year A.D. 250. He was celebrated as a teacher of eloquence,
and before his conversion to Christianity, had so successfully studied
the great Roman orator that he afterwards received the appellation of
the "Christian Cicero."]
QUEEN ISABELLA'S RESOLVE.
FROM VINET.
QUEEN ISABELLA OF SPAIN, DON GOMEZ, AND COLUMBUS.
_Isabella._ And so, Don Gomez, it is your conclusion that we ought to
dismiss the proposition of this worthy Genoese.[Headnote 1]
_Don Gomez._ His scheme, your majesty, seems to me fanciful in the
extreme; but I am a plain matter-of-fact man, and do not see visions and
dreams, like some.
_Isa._ And yet Columbus has given us cogent reasons for believing that
it is practicable to reach the eastern coast of India by sailing in a
westerly direction.
_Don G._ Admitting that his theory is correct, namely, that the earth is
a sphere, how would it be possible for him to return, if he once
descended that sphere in the direction he proposes`? Would not the
coming back be all up-hill'? Could a ship accomplish it with even the
most favorable wind'?
_Columbus._ Will your majesty allow me to suggest that, if the earth is
a sphere, the same laws of adhesion and motion must operate at every
point on its surface; and the objection of Don Gomez would be quite as
valid against our being able to return from crossing the Strait of
Gibraltar.
_Don G._ This gentleman, then, would have us believe the monstrous
absurdity, that there are people on the earth who are our
antipodes,--who walk with their heads down, like flies on the ceiling.
_Col._ But, your majesty, if there is a law of attraction which makes
matter gravitate to the earth, and prevents its flying off into space,
may not this law operate at every point on the round earth's surface'?
_Isa._ Truly, it so seems to me; and I perceive nothing absurd in the
notion that this earth is a globe floating or revolving in space.
_Don G._ May it please your majesty, the ladies are privileged to give
credence to many wild tales which we plain matter-of-fact men can not
admit. Every step I take, confutes this visionary idea of the earth's
rotundity. Would not the blood run into my head, if I were standing
upside down! Were I not fearful of offending your majesty, I would quote
what the great Lactantius [Headnote 2] says.
_Isa_. We are not vain of our science, Don Gomez; so let us have the
quotation.
_Don G_. "Is there any one so foolish," he asks, "as to believe that
there are antipodes with their feet opposite to ours,--that there is a
part of the world in which all things are topsy-turvy, where the trees
grow with their branches downward, and where it rains, hails, and snows,
upward'?"
_Col_. I have already answered this objection. If there are people on
the earth who are our antipodes, it should be remembered that we are
theirs also.
_Don G_. Really, that is the very point wherein we matter-of-fact men
abide by the assurance of our own senses. We know that we are not
walking with our heads downward.
_Isa_. To cut short the discussion, you think that the enterprise which
the Genoese proposes, is one unworthy of our serious consideration; and
that his theory of an unknown shore to the westward of us is a fallacy.
_Don G_. As a plain matter-of-fact man, I must confess that I so regard
it. Has your majesty ever seen an ambassador from this unknown coast?
_Isa_. Don Gomez, do you believe in the existence of a world of spirits?
Have you ever seen an ambassador from that unknown world?
_Don G_. Certainly not. By faith we look forward to it.
_Isa_. Even so by faith does the Genoese look forward, far over misty
ocean, to an undiscovered shore.
_Col._ Your majesty is right; but let it be added that I have reasons,
oh! most potent and resistless reasons, for the faith that is in me: the
testimony of many navigators who have picked up articles that must have
drifted from this distant coast: the nature of things, admitting that
the earth is round: the reports current among the people of one of the
northern nations, that many years ago their mariners had sailed many
leagues westward till they reached a shore where the grape grew
abundantly; these and other considerations have made it the fixed
persuasion of my mind, that there is a great discovery reserved for the
man who will sail patiently westward, trusting in God's good providence,
and turning not back till he has achieved his purpose.
_Don G._ Then truly we should never hear of him again. Speculation! mere
speculation, your majesty! When this gentleman can bring forward some
solid facts that will induce us plain matter-of-fact men to risk money
in forwarding his enterprise, it will then be time enough for royalty to
give it heed. Why, your majesty, the very boys in the streets point at
their foreheads as he passes along.
_Isa._ And so you bring forward the frivolity of boys jeering at what
they do not comprehend, as an argument why Isabella should not give heed
to this great and glorious scheme? Ay, sir, though it should fail,
still, it has been urged in language so intelligent and convincing, by
this grave and earnest man, whom you think to undervalue by calling him
an adventurer, that I am resolved to test the "absurdity," as you style
it, and that forthwith.
_Don G._ Your majesty will excuse me if I remark, that I have from your
royal consort himself the assurance that the finances are so exhausted
by the late wars, that he can not consent to advance the necessary funds
for fitting out an expedition of the kind proposed.
_Isa._ Be _mine_, then, the privilege! I have jewels, by the pledging of
which I can raise the amount required; and I have resolved that they
shall be pledged to this enterprise, without any more delay.
_Col._ Your majesty shall not repent your heroic resolve. I will return,
your majesty; be sure I will return, and lay at your feet such a jewel
as never queen wore yet, an imperishable fame,--a fame that shall couple
with your memory the benedictions of millions yet unborn, in climes yet
unknown to civilized man. There is an uplifting presentiment in my mind,
a conviction that your majesty will live to bless the hour you came to
this decision.
_Don G._ A presentiment? A plain matter-of-fact man, like myself, must
take leave of your majesty, if his practical common-sense is to be met
and superseded by presentiments! An ounce of fact, your majesty, is
worth a ton of presentiment.
_Isa._ That depends altogether upon the source of the presentiment, Don
Gomez. If it come from the Fountain of all truth, shall it not be good?
_Don G._ I humbly take my leave of your majesty.
QUESTIONS.--1. What reasons did Don Gomez advance in proof that the
earth is not a sphere? 2. What argument did Columbus present in proof
that it was? 3. What did Queen Isabella resolve to do?
* * * * *
LESSON CIII.
CON FIRM' ING, corroborating.
AS SUR AN CES, assertions.
MU TI NEER', one who resists orders.
IN FER' RED, concluded.
CRAV' ED, begged.
AS SO' CIA TING, joining; connecting.
EX PEC TA' TION, hope; a looking for.
VER' I FIED, made true; realized.
PHOS PHO RES' CENCE, faint light.
HES I TA' TION, doubt.
EN JOIN' ING, commanding; ordering.
AM PHI THE' A TER, circular theater.
CON TR AST' ED, set in opposition.
DE MEAN' OR, behavior.
DE FAULT', defect; absence.
IN SIG' NIA, marks; signs.
IN I' TIALS, first letters.
DEV AS TA TION, a laying waste.
DISCOVERY OF THE NEW WORLD.
LAMARTINE.
1. At sunrise, on the second day, some rashes recently torn up, were
seen near the vessels. A plank, evidently hewn by an ax, a stick
skillfully carved by some cutting instrument, a bough of hawthorn in
blossom,--and lastly, a bird's nest built on a branch which the wind
had broken, and full of eggs, on which the parent bird was sitting amid
the gently-rolling waves,--were seen floating past on the waters. The
sailors brought on board these living and inanimate witnesses of their
approach to land. They were a voice from the shore, confirming the
assurances of Columbus. Before the land actually appeared in sight, its
neighborhood was inferred from these marks of life.
2. The mutineers fell on their knees before the Admiral, whom they had
insulted but the day before, craved pardon for their mistrust, and
struck up a hymn of thanksgiving to God for associating them with this
triumph. Night fell on these songs welcoming a new world. The Admiral
gave orders that the sails should be close-reefed, and the lead kept
going; and that they should sail slowly, being afraid of breakers and
shoals, and feeling certain that the first gleam of daybreak would
discover land under their bows.
3. On the last anxious night none slept. Impatient expectation had
removed all heaviness from their eyes; the pilots and the seamen,
clinging about the masts, yards, and shrouds, each tried to keep the
best place and the closest watch to get the earliest sight of the new
hemisphere. The Admiral had offered a reward to the first who should cry
_Land_, provided his announcement was verified by its actual discovery.
4. Providence, however, reserved to Columbus himself this first glimpse,
which he had purchased at the expense of twenty years of his life, and
of untiring perseverance. While walking the quarter-deck alone, at
midnight, and sweeping the dark horizon with his keen eye, a gleam of
fire passed and disappeared, and again showed itself on the level of the
waves. Fearful of being deceived by the phosphorescence of the sea, he
quietly called a Spanish gentleman of Isabella's court, in whom he had
more confidence than in the pilots, pointed out the direction in which
he had seen the light, and asked him whether he could discern any thing
there.
5. He replied that he did, indeed, see a flickering light in that
quarter. To make the fact still more sure, Columbus called another in
whom he had confidence to look in the same direction. He said he had no
hesitation in pronouncing that there was a light on the horizon. But the
blaze was hardly seen before it again disappeared in the ocean, to show
itself anew the next moment. Whether it was the light of a fire on a low
shore, alternately appearing and disappearing beyond the broken horizon,
or whether it was the floating beacon of a fisherman's boat now rising
on the waves, and now sinking in the trough of the sea, they could not
determine.
6. Thus both land and safety appeared together in the shape of fire to
Columbus and his two friends, on the night between the 11th and 12th of
October, 1492. The Admiral, enjoining silence, kept his observation to
himself, for fear of again raising false hopes, and giving a bitter
disappointment to his ships' companies. He lost sight of the light, and
remained on deck until two in the morning,--praying, hoping, and
despairing alone, awaiting the _triumph or the return_ on which the
morrow was to decide.
7. He was seized with that anguish which precedes the great discoveries
of truth, when, suddenly, a cannon-shot, sounding over the sea, a few
hundred yards in advance of him, burst upon his ear the announcement of
a _new-born world_, which made him tremble, and fall upon his knees. It
was the signal of land in sight! made by firing a shot, as had been
arranged with the _Pinta_, which was sailing in advance of the squadron,
to guide their course and take soundings.
8. At this signal a general shout of _"Land ho!"_ arose from all the
yards and riggings of the ships. The sails were furled, and daybreak was
anxiously awaited. The mystery of the ocean had breathed its first
whisper in the bosom of night. Daybreak would clear it up openly to
every eye. Delicious and unknown perfumes reached the vessels from the
outline of the shore, with the roar of the waves upon the reefs and the
soft land breeze.
9. The fire seen by Columbus indicated the presence of man, and of the
first element of civilization. Never did the night appear so long in
clearing away from the horizon; for this horizon was to Columbus and his
companions a second creation of God. The dawn, as it spread over the
sky, gradually raised the shores of an island from the waves. Its
distant extremities were lost in the morning mist. It ascended
gradually, like an amphitheater, from the low beach to the summit of the
hills, whose dark-green covering contrasted strongly with the blue
heavens.
10. Within a few paces from where the foam of the waves breaks on the
yellow sand, forests of tall and unknown trees stretched away, one above
another, over the successive terraces of the island. Green valleys and
bright clefts in the hollows, afforded a half glimpse into these
mysterious wilds. Here and there could be discovered a few scattered
huts, which, with their outlines and roofs of dry leaves, looked like
bee-hives, and thin columns of blue smoke rose above the tops of the
trees. Half-naked groups of men, women, and children, more astonished
than frightened, appeared among the thickets near the shore, advancing
timidly, and then drawing back, exhibiting, by their gestures and
demeanor, as much fear as curiosity and wonder, at the sight of these
strange vessels, which the previous night had brought to their shores.
11. Columbus, after gazing in silence on this foremost shore of the land
so often determined by his calculations, and so magnificently colored by
his imagination, found it to exceed even his own expectations. He burned
with impatience to be the first European to set foot on the sand, and to
plant the flag of Spain,--the standard of the conquest of God and of his
sovereigns, effected by his genius. But he restrained the eagerness of
himself and of his crew to land, being desirous of giving to the act of
taking possession of a new world, a _solemnity_ worthy of the greatest
deed, perhaps, ever accomplished by a seaman; and, in default of men, to
call God and His angels, sea, earth, and sky, as witnesses of his
conquest of an unknown hemisphere.
12. He put on all the insignia of his dignities as Admiral of the Ocean,
and the Viceroy of these future realms; he wrapped himself in his purple
cloak, and taking in his hand an embroidered flag, in which the initials
of Ferdinand and Isabella were interlaced, like their two kingdoms, and,
surmounted by a crown, he entered his boat, and pulled toward the shore,
followed by the boats of his two lieutenants.
13. On landing, he fell on his knees, to acknowledge, by this act of
humility and worship, the goodness and greatness of God in this new
sphere of His works. He kissed the ground, and, with his face on the
earth, he wept tears of double import, as they fell on the dust of this
hemisphere, now, for the first time, visited by Europeans,--tears of joy
for the overflowing of a proud spirit, grateful and pious,--tears of
sadness for this virgin soil, seeming to foreshadow the calamities, and
devastation, with fire and sword, and blood and destruction, which the
strangers were to bring with their pride, their knowledge, and their
power.
14. It was the _man_ that shed these tears; but it was the _earth_ that
was destined to weep. As Columbus raised his forehead from the dust,
with a Latin prayer, which his companions have handed down to us, he
thus addressed the Sovereign Ruler of the world: (_sl_.) "Almighty and
eternal God, who, by the energy of thy creative word, hast made the
firmament, the earth, and sea, blessed and glorified be Thy name in all
places! May Thy majesty and dominion be exalted forever and ever, as
Thou hast permitted Thy holy name to be made known and spread by the
most humble of Thy servants, in this hitherto unknown portion of Thy
empire."
15. He then gave to this land the name of San Salvador. His lieutenants,
his pilots, and his seamen, full of gladness, and impressed with a
superstitious respect for him whose glance had pierced beyond the
visible horizon, and whom they had offended by their unbelief,--overcome
by the evidence of their eyes, and by that mental superiority which
overawes the minds of men,--fell at the feet of the Admiral, kissed his
hands and his clothes, and recognized, for a moment, the power and the
almost divine nature of genius; _yesterday_ the victims of his
obstinacy,--_now_ the companions of his success, and sharers in the
glory which they had mocked. Such is humanity,--persecuting discoverers,
yet reaping the fruits of their inventions.
QUESTIONS.--1. What evidences had Columbus that land was near? 2. What
did the mutineers do? 3. In what month and year was the _new world_
discovered? 4. What is said of the natives? 5. What did Columbus do on
landing? 6. What was the conduct of the officers and seamen?
* * * * *
LESSON CIV.
FER' MENT, heat; glow.
EN THU' SI ASM, excitement.
PRO DIG' IOUS, very great.
SPEC I MENS, samples.
LEAGU' ED, joined; banded.
PER SUAD' ED, convinced.
PRE POS' TEROUS, absurd; ridiculous.
VAUNT' ED, boasted.
DE LU' SION, deception.
CRED' U LOUS, apt to believe.
UN RE LI' A BLE, untrustworthy.
SUS PI'' CION, doubt; mistrust.
THE RETURN OF COLUMBUS.
VINET.
DON GOMEZ AND HIS SECRETARY.
_Don Gomez_. WHAT! what is this you tell me? Columbus returned? A new
world discovered? Impossible!
_Secretary_. It is even so, sir. A courier arrived at the palace but an
hour since with the intelligence. Columbus was driven by stress of
weather to anchor in the Tagus. All Portugal is in a ferment of
enthusiasm, and all Spain will be equally excited soon. The sensation is
prodigious!
_Don G_. Oh, it is a trick! It must be a trick!
_Sec_. But he has brought home the proofs of his visit,--gold and
precious stones, strange plants and animals; and, above all, specimens
of a new race of men, copper-colored, with straight hair.
_Don G_. Still I say, a trick! He has been coasting along the African
shore, and there collected a few curiosities, which he is passing off
for proofs of his pretended discovery.
_Sec_. It is a little singular that all his men should be leagued with
him in keeping up so unprofitable a falsehood.
_Don G_. But 'tis against reason, against common sense, that such a
discovery should be made.
_Sec_. King John of Portugal has received him with royal magnificence,
has listened to his accounts, and is persuaded that they are true.
_Don G._ We shall see, we shall see. Look you, sir, a plain
matter-of-fact man, such as I, is not to be taken in by any such
preposterous story! This vaunted discovery will turn out no discovery at
all.
_Sec._ The king and queen have given orders for preparations on the most
magnificent scale for the reception of Columbus.
_Don G._ What delusion! Her majesty is so credulous. A practical,
common-sense man, like myself, can find no points of sympathy in her
nature.
_Sec._ The Indians on board the returned vessels, are said to be unlike
any known race of men.
_Don G._ Very unreliable all that! I take the common-sense view of the
thing. I am a matter-of-fact man; and do you remember what I say, it
will all turn out a trick! The crews may have been deceived. Columbus
may have steered a southerly course, instead of a westerly. Any thing is
probable, rather than that a coast to the westward of us has been
discovered.
_Sec._ I saw the courier, who told me he had conversed with all the
sailors; and they laughed at the suspicion that there could be any
mistake about the discovery, or that any other than a westerly course
had been steered.
_Don G._ Still I say, a trick! An unknown coast reached by steering
west? Impossible! The earth a globe, and men standing with their heads
down in space? Folly! An ignorant sailor from Genoa in the right, and
all our learned doctors and philosophers in the wrong? _Nonsense!_ I'm a
matter-of-fact man, sir. I will believe what I can see, and handle, and
understand. But as for believing in the antipodes, or that the earth is
round, or that Columbus has discovered land to the west,--Ring the
bell, sir; call my carriage; I will go to the palace and undeceive the
king.
* * * * *
LESSON CV.
HAR' BIN GER, forerunner; precursor.
UN PIL' LAR ED, unsupported by pillars.
UN YIELDING, stubborn.
DE CREES', edicts; laws.
HAL' LOW ED, sacred; consecrated.
MOLD' ER ING, decaying.
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO,
GRENVILLE MULLEN.
1. Wake your harp's music!--louder,--higher,
And pour your strains along;
And smite again each quivering wire,
In all the pride of song!
(f.)Shout like those godlike men of old,
Who, daring storm and foe,
On this blessed soil their anthem rolled,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
2. From native shores by tempests driven,
They sought a purer sky;
And found, beneath a milder heaven,
_The home of Liberty!_
An altar rose,--and prayers,--a ray
Broke on their night of woe,--
The harbinger of Freedom's day,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
3. They clung around that symbol too,
Their refuge and their all;
And swore, while skies and waves were blue,
That altar should not fall!
They stood upon the red man's sod,
'Neath heaven's unpillared bow,
With home,--a country, and a God,--
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
4. Oh! 'twas a hard, unyielding fate
That drove them to the seas;
And Persecution strove with Hate,
To darken her decrees:
But safe, above each coral grave,
Each booming ship did go,--
A God was on the western wave,--
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
5. They knelt them on the desert sand,
By waters cold and rude,
Alone upon the dreary strand
Of oceaned solitude!
They looked upon the high, blue air,
And felt their spirits glow,
Resolved to live or perish there,--
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
6. The warrior's red right arm was bared,
His eyes flashed deep and wild:
Was there a foreign footstep dared
To seek his home and child'?
The dark chiefs yelled alarm, and swore
The white man's blood should flow,
And his hewn bones should bleach their shore,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
7. But lo! the warrior's eye grew dim,--
His arm was left alone;
The still, black wilds which sheltered him,
No longer were his own!
Time fled,--and on the hallowed ground
His highest pine lies low,--
And cities swell where forests frowned,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
8. Oh! stay not to recount the tale,--
'Twas bloody, and 'tis past;
The firmest cheek might well grow pale,
To hear it to the last.
The God of Heaven who prospers us,
Could bid a nation grow,
And shield us from the red man's curse,--
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
9. Come, then,--great shades of glorious men,
From your still glorious grave!
Look on your own proud land again,
O bravest of the brave!
We call you from each mouldering tomb,
And each blue wave below,
To bless the world ye snatched from doom,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
10. Then to your harps!--yet louder,--higher
And pour your strains along;
And smite again each quivering wire,
In all the pride of song!
(f.)Shout for those godlike men of old,
Who, daring storm and foe,
On this blessed soil their anthem rolled,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!
QUESTIONS.--1. Who are meant by _godlike men of old_? 2. Why did they
flee to this country? 3. Who warred against them?
* * * * *
LESSON CVI.
SE RENE' LY, calmly; quietly.
SUR MOUNT', rise above; overcome.
TRAMP, tread, or travel.
EB' ON, black, as ebony.
GUARD' I AN, defender; protector.
CHIV' AL RIC, brave; heroic.
MAIL, defensive armor.
EX ALT', lift up.
FRAIL' TY, weakness.
BLIGHT' ED, blasted.
RE NOWN', fame; celebrity.
STEAD' FAST, firm; resolute.
IN TER VENE', (INTER, _between_; VENE, _to come_;) come between;
interpose.
SUC CEED', (SUC, _after;_ CEED, _to come;_) come after; follow.
PRESS ON.
PARK BENJAMIN.
1. _Press on!_ there's no such word as fail!
Press nobly on! the goal is near,--
Ascend the mountain! breast the gale!
Look upward, onward,--never fear!
Why shouldst thou faint? Heaven smiles above,
Though storms and vapor intervene;
That Sun shines on, whose name is Love,
Serenely o'er Life's shadowed scene.
2. _Press on!_ surmount the rocky steeps,
Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch:
He fails alone who feebly creeps;
He wins, who dares the hero's march.
Be thou a hero! let thy might
Tramp on eternal snows its way,
And, through the ebon walls of night,
Hew down a passage unto day.
3. _Press on!_ if once and twice thy feet
Slip back and stumble, harder try;
From him who never dreads to meet
Danger and death, they're sure to fly.
To coward ranks the bullet speeds;
While on their breasts who never quail,
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds,
Bright courage, like a coat of mail.
4. _Press on_! if Fortune play thee false
To-day, to-morrow she'll be true;
Whom now she sinks she now exalts,
Taking old gifts and granting new.
The wisdom of the present hour
Makes up her follies past and gone:
To weakness strength succeeds, and power
From frailty springs;--_press on_! PRESS ON!
5. _Press on_! what though upon the ground
Thy love has been poured out like rain?
That happiness is always found
The sweetest, which is born of pain.
Oft 'mid the forest's deepest glooms,
A bird sings from some blighted tree,
And, in the dreariest desert, blooms
A never-dying rose for thee.
6. Therefore, _press on_! and reach the goal,
And gain the prize, and wear the crown:
Faint not! for, to the steadfast soul,
Come wealth, and honor, and renown.
To thine own self be true, and keep
Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil;
_Press on_! and thou shalt surely reap
A heavenly harvest for thy toil!
QUESTIONS.--1. What encouragement is given to those who press on? 2. Who
fails, and who wins? 3. What is said of those who never dread to meet
danger and death? 4. How are they rewarded, who press on?
* * * * *
LESSON CVII.
EX PAND, develop; enlarge.
EL E VATE, raise; dignify.
VAR RI A BLE, changeable.
PHAN TAS MA GO' RIA, magic lantern; illusive representations.
UN' DU LA TING, waving; irregular.
MO BIL'I TY, movableness; readiness to move.
DO' CILE, teachable; obedient.
CE LES' TIAL, heavenly.
DIS' SI PATES, scatters, or confuses.
IN FIN' I TY, boundlessness.
GYM NAS' TIC, athletic exercise.
O PAC' I TY, state of being opaque or dark.
PA THET' IC, feeling; tender.
IN DOM' I TA BLE, unconquerable.
CO-OP' ER ATE, work with; join with.
MOUNT PER' DU, one of the high summits of the Pyrenees
mountains, in Spain. The name signifies "Lost Mountain;" in
allusion, probably, to its peak being lost in the clouds.
THE THREE FORMS OF NATURE.
FROM THE FRENCH OF MICHELET.
1. There are three forms of Nature, which especially command and elevate
our souls, release her from her heavy clay and earthly limits, and send
her, exulting, to sail amidst the wonders and mysteries of the Infinite.
_First_, there is the unstable _Ocean of Air_ with its glorious banquet
of light, its vapors, its twilight, and its shifting phantasmagoria of
capricious creatures, coming into existence only to depart the next
instant.
2. _Second_, there is the fixed _Ocean of the Earth_, its undulating and
vast waves, as we see them from the tops of "the earth o'er gazing
mountains," the elevations which testify to antique mobility, and the
sublimity of its mightier mountain-tops, clad in eternal snows. _Third_,
there is the _Ocean of Waters_, less mobile than air, less fixed than
earth, but liable, in its movements, to the celestial bodies.
3. _These three things_ form the gamut by which the Infinite speaks to
our souls. Nevertheless, let us point out some very notable differences.
The _Air-ocean_ is so mobile that we can scarcely examine it. It
deceives; it decoys; it diverts; it dissipates, and breaks up our chain
of thought.
4. For an instant, it is an immense hope, the day of all infinity; anon,
it is not so; all flies from before us, and our hearts are grieved,
agitated, and filled with doubt. Why have I been permitted to see for a
moment that immense flood of light? The memory of that brief gleaming
must ever abide with me, and that memory makes all things here on earth
look dark.
5. The _fixed Ocean of the mountains_ is not thus transient or fugitive;
on the contrary, it stops us at every step, and imposes upon us the
necessity of a very hard, though wholesome gymnastic. Contemplation here
has to be bought at the price of the most violent action. Nevertheless,
the opacity of the earth, like the transparency of the air, frequently
deceives and bewilders us. Who can forget that for ten years, Ramon, in
vain, sought to reach Mount Perdu though often within sight of it?
6. Great, _very great_, is the difference between the elements; the
earth is mute and the ocean speaks. The ocean is a voice. It speaks to
the distant stars; it answers to their movements in its deep and solemn
language. It speaks to the earth on the shores, replying to the echoes
that reply again; by turns wailing, soothing, threatening--its deepest
roar is presently succeeded by a sad, pathetic silence.
7. And it especially addresses itself to man. It is creation's living
eloquence. It is Life speaking to Life. The millions, the countless
myriads of beings to which it gives birth, are its words. All these,
mingled together make the unity, the great and solemn voice of the
ocean. And "what are those wild waves saying?" They are talking of
_Life,--of Immortality._
8. An indomitable strength is at the bottom of Nature--how much more so
at Nature's summit, the Soul! And it speaks of partnership, of union.
Let us accept the swift exchange which, in the individual, exists
between the diverse elements; let us accept the superior Law which
unites the living members of the same body--Humanity; and, still more,
let us accept and respect the supreme Law which makes us co-operate with
the great Soul, associated as we are--in proportion with our
powers--with the loving harmony of the world--copartners in the life of
God.
QUESTIONS.--1. What are three great forms of Nature? 2. What is said of
the Air-ocean? 3. How does the Ocean address itself to man?
* * * * *
LESSON CVIII.
MO NOP' O LIZED, engrossed.
CEL' E BRA TED, praised; talked of.
PO' TENT LY, powerfully.
MAR' I TIME, pertaining to sea.
SA GAC' I TY, acuteness.
IN TRE PID' I TY, daring valor.
SAN' GUINE, bloody; cruel.
EC CEN TRIC' I TY, peculiarity, oddity.
WA' RI NESS, cautiousness.
ED' I BLE, eatable.
E MAN' CI PA TED, freed; liberated.
IN TER ME' DI ATE, lying between.
DEV AS TA TING, laying waste.
DOUB' LE, sail around.
[Headnote 1: BASQUES, (_basks_), an ancient and peculiar people, living
on the slopes of the Pyrenees Mountains.]
[Headnote 2: BRE' TON, a native of Brittany, an ancient province in
France.]
[Headnote 3: NOR' MAN, that is, Northman, a name given to the ancient
inhabitants of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden, and afterward to their
descendants who settled in the north of France.]
THE WHALE AND THE WHALER.
FROM THE FRENCH OF MICHELET.
1. Who opened up to men the great distant navigation? Who revealed the
ocean, and marked out its zones and its liquid highways? Who discovered
the secrets of the globe? _The Whale and the Whaler!_ And all this
before Columbus and the famous gold-seekers, who have monopolized all
the glory, found again, with much outcry about their discovery, what had
so long before been discovered by the whalers.
2. That crossing of the ocean, which was so boastfully celebrated in the
fifteenth century, had often been made, not only by the narrow passage
between Iceland and Greenland, but, also, by the open sea; for the
Basques [Headnote 1] went to Newfoundland. The smallest danger was the
mere voyage; for these men, who went to the very end of the _then_ known
world, to challenge the whale to single combat, to steer right away into
the Northern sea, to attack the mighty monster, amid darkness and
storms, with the dense fog all around, and the foaming waves
below,--those who could do this, were not the men to shrink from the
ordinary dangers of the voyage.
3. Noble warfare! Great school of courage! That fishery was not _then_,
as it is _now_, an easy war to wage, made from a distance, and with a
potently murderous machine. No; the fisher then struck with his own
strong hand, impelled and guided by his own fearless heart, and he
risked life to take life. The men of that day killed but few whales; but
they gained infinitely in maritime ability, in patience, in sagacity,
and in intrepidity. They brought back _less_ of oil; but _more, far
more_ of glory.
4. Every nation has its own peculiar genius. We recognize each by its
own style of procedure. There are a hundred forms of courage, and these
graduated varieties formed, as it were, another heroic game. At the
North, the Scandinavian, the rude race from Norway to Flanders, had
their sanguine fury. At the South, the wild burst, the gay daring, the
clear-headed excitement, that impelled, at once, and guided them over
the world. In the center, the silent and patient firmness of the
Breton [Headnote 2], who yet, in the hour of danger, could display a
quite sublime eccentricity. And, lastly, the Norman [Headnote 3]
wariness, considerately courageous; daring all, but daring all for
success. Such was the beauty of man, in that sovereign manifestation of
human courage.
5. We owe a vast deal to the whale. But for it, the fishers would still
have hugged the shore; for, almost every edible fish seeks the shore and
the river. It was the whale that emancipated them, and led them afar. It
led them onward, and onward still, until they found it, after having
almost unconsciously passed from one world to the other. Greenland did
not seduce them; it was not _the land_ that they sought; but _the sea,
and the tracks of the whale_.
6. The ocean at large is its home, and _especially_ the broad and open
sea. Each species has its especial preference for this or that
latitude,--for a certain zone of water, more or less cold. And it was
_that_ preference which traced out the great divisions of the Atlantic.
The tribe of inferior whales, that have a dorsal fin, are to be found in
the warmest and in the coldest seas,--under the line and in the polar
seas.
7. In the great intermediate region, the fierce Cachalot inclines toward
the south, devastating the warm waters. On the contrary, the Free Whale
fears the warm waters,--we should rather say, that they did, formerly,
fear them,--they have become so scarce. They are never found in the warm
southern current; it is _that_ fact that led to the current being
noticed, and thence to the discovery of the _true course from America to
Europe_. From Europe to America, the trade winds will serve us.
8. If the Free Whale has a perfect horror of the warm waters, and can
not pass the equator, it is clear that he can not double the southern
end of America. How happens it, then, that when he is wounded on one
side of America, in the Atlantic, he is sometimes found on the other
side of America, and in the Pacific? _It proves that there is a
north-western passage_. Another discovery which we owe to the whale, and
one which throws a broad light alike on the form of the globe, and the
geography of the seas!
9. By degrees, the whale has led us everywhere. Rare as he is at
present, he has led us to both poles, from the uttermost recesses of the
Pacific to Behring's Strait, and the infinite wastes of the Antarctic
waters. There is even an enormous region that no vessel, whether
war-ship or merchantman, ever traverses, at a few degrees beyond the
southern points of America and Africa. No one visits that region but the
whaler.
QUESTIONS.--1. What has been done by the whaler? 2. By whom had
Newfoundland been discovered? 3. What is said of the courage of the
whaler? 4. What proof is given that there is a north-western passage,
by water, from the Atlantic to the Pacific?
* * * * *
LESSON CIX.
THRALL' DOM, bondage; slavery.
IG NO' BLE, mean; degraded.
HORDE, clan; tribe.
FEUD' AL, pertaining to military tenure.
DES' POTS, tyrants.
PAL' TRY, mean; contemptible.
RAP' INE,(_rapin;_) plunder; violence.
FOR SOOTH', in truth; in fact.
RUF' FIAN, robber; cut-throat.
SERV' ILE, slavish; cringing.
LIM' NERS, painters.
DIS CI' PLE, learner; follower.
CORSE, corpse; dead body.
BRAWL, wrangle; contention.
DIS TAIN' ED, sullied; stained.
ECH' O ED, resounded.
RIENZI'S ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS.
[Footnote: RI EN' ZI, the last of the Roman Tribunes, was born in Rome
about the year 1310. He was assassinated Oct. 8th, 1354 He was a person
of extraordinary eloquence. In his day, Rome was a prey to contending
factions of nobles. This kept the city in constant turmoil, and
subjected the people to continual abuse and tyranny. It was the endeavor
of Rienzi to arouse them to a resolution to be free.]
MISS MITFORD.
1. Friends!
I come not here to _talk_. You know too well
The story of our thralldom. We are _slaves!_
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of _slaves!_ He sets, and his last beam
Falls on a _slave_: not such as, swept along
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads
To crimson glory and undying fame;
_But base, ignoble slaves!_ slaves to a horde
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords,
Rich in some dozen paltry villages;
Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great
In that strange spell,--_a name_.
2. Each hour, dark fraud,
Or open rapine, or protected murder,
Cries out against them. But this very day,
An honest man, my neighbor,--there he stands,
Was struck, _struck_ like a dog, by one who wore
The badge of Ursini; because, forsooth,
He tossed not high his ready cap in air,
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts,
At sight of that great ruffian!
3. (f.) Be we _men_,
And suffer such dishonor'? MEN, and wash not
The stain away in blood'? Such shames are common!
I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye,
I had a brother once, a gracious boy,
Full of gentleness, of calmest hope,
Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give
To the beloved disciple!
4. How I loved
That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years,
Brother at once, and son! He left my side,
A summer bloom on his fair cheek,--a smile
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour,
That pretty, harmless boy was slain! (_p_.) I saw
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried
For vengeance! (_ff_.) _Rouse ye, Romans!_--ROUSE YE, SLAVES!
Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl
To see them die! Have ye fair daughters? Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored; and if ye dare call for justice,
Be answered by the lash!
5. Yet this is Rome,
That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne
Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet we are Romans!
Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman,
Was greater than a king! And once again,--
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus! Once again I swear,
The eternal city shall be free!
QUESTIONS.--1. In what condition did the writer say the Roman people
were? 2. What wrongs are complained of? 3. What special cases are
mentioned? 4. What are the people exhorted to do? 5. What is the meaning
of the suffix _dom_, in the word _thralldom?_ See ANALYSIS, page 142,
Ex. 189. 6. What is the meaning of the suffix _less_, in the word
_harmless?_ See page 140, Ex. 187. 7. How, according to the notation
mark, should the first part of the third verse be read? 8. What rule for
the rising inflections, third verse? See page 28, Rule I.
* * * * *
LESSON CX.
MUL' TI PLY, increase; continue.
COL'TER, part of the plow that cuts the sod.
GE' NI AL, productive.
BE NIG' NANT, kind; bounteous.
SAUN' TER ING, loitering.
WOOD' BINE, honeysuckle.
RE SPLEN DENT, splendid, beautiful.
PO' TENT, powerful.
ROAD' STEAD, place where ships may anchor.
RE LI' ANT, trusting; depending.
PES TI LEN' TIAL, infectious; noxious.
PER PET' U AL, continual.
STER' ILE, barren.
[Headnote 1: LE ON' I DAS, the celebrated Spartan leader who, with three
hundred men, perished in the effort to resist the Persian hosts, at the
mountain pass of Thermopylae, (B.C., 480.)]
[Headnote 2: MARS' TON, that is, Marston Moor, a place in Yorkshire,
England, memorable for the defeat of Charles I., (in 1644,) by the
forces of Cromwell and others.]
[Headnote 3: BAN' NOCK BURN, a village in Stirlingshire, Scotland,
famous for the battle between the patriots, under Robert Bruce, and the
English invading army, under Edward II., fought, June 25, 1314.]
[Headnote 4: AR MA' DA, a great naval armament sent by Philip II. of
Spain, in 1588, for the conquest of England. It failed utterly, however,
of its object, having been scattered and disabled by violent storms.]
SONG OF THE FORGE.
1. Clang! clang! the massive anvils ring,--
Clang! clang! a hundred hammers swing,
Like the thunder-rattle of a tropic sky,
The mighty blows still multiply:
Clang! clang!
Say, brothers of the dusky brow,
What are your strong arms forging now?
2. Clang! clang!--we forge the _colter_ now--
The colter of the kindly plow;
Benignant Father, bless our toil;
May its broad furrow still unbind
To genial rains, to sun and wind,
The most productive soil!
3. Clang! clang!--our colter's course shall be
On many a sweet and sunny lea,
By many a streamlet's silver tide,
Amidst the song of morning birds,
Amidst the low of sauntering herds,
Amidst soft breezes which do stray
Through woodbine-hedges and sweet May,
Along the green hill's side.
4. When regal Autumn's bounteous hand,
With wide-spread glory clothes the land,--
When, to the valleys, from the brow
Of each resplendent slope, is rolled
A ruddy sea of living gold,
We bless,--we bless the PLOW.
5. Clang! clang!--again, my mates, what glows
Beneath the hammer's potent blows?
Clink! clank!--we forge the _giant chain_,
Which bears the gallant vessel's strain,
'Midst stormy winds and adverse tides;
Secured by this, the good ship braves
The rocky roadstead and the waves
Which thunder on her sides.
6. Anxious no more, the merchant sees
The mist drive dark before the breeze.
The storm-cloud on the hill;
Calmly he rests, though, far away
In boisterous climes, his vessel lay
Reliant on our skill.
7. Say, on what sands these links shall sleep,
Fathoms beneath the solemn deep`?
By Afric's pestilential shore',--
By many an iceberg, lone and hoar',--
By many a palmy western isle,
Basking in spring's perpetual smile',--
By stormy Labrador'?
8. Say, shall they feel the vessel reel,
When, to the battery's deadly peal,
The crashing broadside makes reply'?
Or else, as at the glorious Nile,
Hold grappling ships, that strive the while,
For death or victory'?
9. _Hurrah!_--cling! clang!--once more, what glows,
Dark brothers of the forge, beneath
The iron tempest of your blows
The furnace's fiery breath?
10. Clang! clang!--a burning torrent, clear
And brilliant, of bright sparks is poured
Around and up in the dusky air,
As our hammers forge the SWORD.
11. The _sword!_ a name of dread; yet when
Upon the freeman's thigh 'tis bound,
While for his altar and his hearth,--
While for the land that gave him birth,
The war-drums roll, the trumpets sound,
How _sacred_ is it then!
12. Whenever for the truth and right
It flashes in the van of fight,
Whether in some wild mountain pass
As that where fell Leonidas [Headnote 1];
Or on some sterile plain and stern,
A Marston [Headnote 2] or a Bannockburn [Headnote 3];
Or, mid fierce crags and bursting rills,
The Switzer's Alps, gray Tyrol's hills,--
Or, as when sunk the Armada's [Headnote 4] pride,
It gleams above the stormy tide,--
Still, still, whene'er the battle word
Is LIBERTY, when men do stand
For _justice_ and their _native land_,
Then Heaven bless THE SWORD!
QUESTIONS.--1. What things are mentioned as being forged? 2. What is
said of the colter? 3. What, of the iron cable? 4. What, of the sword?
* * * * *
LESSON CXI.
BEN E FAC' TION, gift; favor.
E LATE', flushed with success.
IN HER' ENT, natural.
PER FEC' TION, excellence.
VIG' ILS, watchfulness.
UN BRIB' ED, not influenced by gifts.
CON SO LA' TION, comfort.
AV' E NUE, way; entrance.
A TROC' I TIES, enormities.
MOCK' ER Y, derision; ridicule.
FAC' UL TIES, powers of the mind.
CA PAC' I TIES, abilities.
CHOICE EXTRACTS.
I.
SWIFTNESS OF TIME.
IDLER.
Let him that desires to see others happy, make haste to give while his
gift can be enjoyed, and remember that every moment of delay takes away
something from the value of his benefaction. And let him who proposes
his own happiness, reflect, that while he forms his purpose, the days
roll on, and "the night cometh when no man can work."
II.
THE SHIP OF STATE.
LONGFELLOW.
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!
Sail on, O Union, strong and great!
Humanity, with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years,
Is hanging breathless on thy fate!
We know what Master laid thy keel,
What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel,
Who made each mast, and sail, and rope,
What anvils rang, what hammers beat,
In what a forge, and what a heat,
Were shaped the anchors of thy hope.
III.
THE TRUE HERO.
HORACE BUSHNELL.
The true hero is the great, wise man of duty,--he whose soul is armed by
truth and supported by the smile of God,--he who meets life's perils
with a cautious but tranquil spirit, gathers strength by facing its
storms, and dies, if he is called to die, as a Christian victor at the
post of duty. And, if we must have heroes, and wars wherein to make
them, there is none so brilliant as a war with wrong,--no hero so fit to
be sung as he who hath gained the bloodless victory of truth and mercy.
IV.
HEART ESSENTIAL TO GENIUS.
W.G. SIMMS.
We are not always equal to our fate,
Nor true to our conditions. Doubt and fear
Beset the bravest, in their high career,
At moments when the soul, no more elate
With expectation, sinks beneath the time.
The masters have their weakness. "I would climb,"
Said Raleigh, gazing on the highest hill,--
"But that I tremble with the fear to fall."
Apt was the answer of the high-souled queen:
"If thy heart fail thee, never climb at all!"
The heart! if that be sound, confirms the rest,
Crowns genius with his lion will and mien,
And, from the conscious virtue in the breast,
To trembling nature gives both strength and will.
V.
EDUCATION.
ADDISON.
I consider a human soul without education, like marble in the quarry,
which shows none of its inherent beauties until the skill of the
polisher fetches out the colors, makes the surface shine, and discovers
every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein that runs through the body of it.
Education, after the same manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws
out every latent virtue and perfection, which, without such helps, are
never able to make their appearance.
VI.
THE VANITY OF WEALTH.
DR. JOHNSON.
No more thus brooding o'er yon heap,
With av'rice painful vigils keep;
Still unenjoyed the present store,
Still endless sighs are breathed for more.
Oh! quit the shadow, catch the prize,
Which not all India's treasure buys!
To purchase Heaven has gold the power'?
Can gold remove the mortal hour?
In life, can love be bought with gold?
Are friendship's pleasures to be sold?
No; all that's worth a wish--a thought,
Fair Virtue gives unbribed, unbought.
Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind;
Let _nobler views_ engage thy mind.
VII.
CONSOLATION OF THE GOSPEL.
A. ALEXANDER.
Oh, precious gospel! Will any merciless hand endeavor to tear away from
our hearts, this last, this sweetest consolation? Would you darken the
only avenue through which one ray of hope can enter? Would you tear from
the aged and infirm poor the only prop on which their souls can repose
in peace? Would you deprive the dying of their only source of
consolation? Would you rob the world of its richest treasure? Would you
let loose the flood-gates of every vice, and bring back upon the earth
the horrors of superstition, or the atrocities of atheism? Then endeavor
to subvert the gospel; throw around you the firebrands of infidelity;
laugh at religion, and make a mockery of futurity; but be assured that
for all these things, God will bring you into judgment.
VIII.
THE LIGHT OF HOPE.
O.W.B. PEABODY.
1. Oh, who that has gazed, in the stillness of even,
On the fast-fading hues of the west,
Has seen not afar, in the bosom of heaven,
Some bright little mansion of rest,
And mourned that the path to a region so fair
Should be shrouded with sadness and fears;--
That the night-winds of sorrow, misfortune, and care,
Should sweep from the deep-rolling waves of despair,
To darken this cold world of tears?
2. And who that has gazed, has not longed for an hour,
When misfortune forever shall cease;
And Hope, like the rainbow, unfold, through the shower,
Her bright-written promise of peace?
And, oh! if that rainbow of promise may shine
On the last scene of life's wint'ry gloom,
May its light in the moment of parting be mine;
I ask but one ray from a source so divine,
To brighten the vale of the tomb.
IX.
PAMPERING THE BODY AND STARVING THE SOUL.
EDWARD EVERETT.
1. What`! feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger'? pamper his
limbs, and starve his faculties'? Plant the earth, cover a thousand
hills with your droves of cattle, pursue the fish to their hiding-places
in the sea, and spread out your wheat-fields across the plain, in order
to supply the wants of that body which will soon be as cold and as
senseless as the poorest clod, and let the pure spiritual essence within
you, with all its glorious capacities for improvement, languish and
pine'?
2. What`! build factories, turn in rivers upon the water-wheels, unchain
the imprisoned spirits of steam, to weave a garment for the body, and
let the soul remain unadorned and naked'? What`! send out your vessels
to the furthest ocean, and make battle with the monsters of the deep, in
order to obtain the means of lighting up your dwellings and workshops,
and prolonging the hours of labor for the meat that perisheth, and
permit that vital spark, which God has kindled, which He has intrusted
to our care, to be fanned into a bright and heavenly flame,--permit it,
I say, to languish and go out'?
3. What considerate man can enter a school, and not reflect, with awe,
that it is a seminary where immortal minds are training for eternity'?
What parent but is, at times, weighed down with the thought, that
_there_ must be laid the foundations of a building which will stand,
when not merely temple and palace, but the perpetual hills and
adamantine rocks on which they rest, have melted away`!--that a light
may _there_ be kindled which will shine, not merely when every
artificial beam is extinguished, but when the affrighted sun has fled
away from the heavens`?
* * * * *
LESSON CXII.
FRUIT' AGE, collection of fruits.
WAX' ES, grows; increases.
JU' BI LANT, joyous.
TINGE, imbue.
GLO' RI FI ED, exalted to glory.
UN WA' RY, incautious.
FAM' ISH ED, afflicted with hunger.
BAN' ISH ED, driven out; expelled.
RE NEW' ED, made new again.
MA TUR' ING, ripening.
VINT' AGE, produce of the vine.
DIS LOY' AL TY, unfaithfulness.
BE QUEATH' ED, left by inheritance.
CON SID' ER ATE, thoughtful.
RE VIV' I FY, (RE, _again_; VIV, _live_; IFY, _to make_;) to
make alive again, to bring to life; renew.
WE ALL DO FADE AS A LEAF.
GAIL HAMILTON.
1. "_We all do fade as a leaf_." Change is the essence of life. "Passing
away," is written on all things; and passing away is passing on from
strength to strength, from glory to glory. Spring has its growth, summer
its fruitage, and autumn its festive in-gathering. The spring of eager
preparation waxes into the summer of noble work; mellowing in its turn
into the serene autumn, the golden-brown haze of October, when the soul
may robe itself in jubilant drapery, awaiting the welcome command, "Come
up higher," where mortality shall be swallowed up in life.
2. Why, then, should autumn tinge our thoughts with sadness. We fade as
the leaf, and the leaf fades only to revivify. Though it fall, it shall
rise again. Does the bud fear to become a blossom, or the blossom
shudder as it swells into fruit; and shall the redeemed weep that they
must become glorified'? Strange inconsistency`! We faint with the burden
and the heat of the day. We bow down under the crosses that are laid
upon our shoulders. We are bruised and torn by the snares and pitfalls
which beset our way, and into which our unwary feet often fall.
3. We are famished, and foot-sore, and travel-stained, from our long
journey, and yet we are saddened by tokens that we shall pass away from
all these,--away from sin and sorrow, from temptation and fall, from
disappointment, and weary waiting, and a fearful looking-for of evil, to
purity and holiness, and the full fruition of every hope,--bliss which
eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart conceived,--to a world
whence all that made this dreary is forever banished, and where all that
made this delightful is forever renewed and increased,--a world where
the activities and energies of the soul shall have full scope, and love
and recognition wait upon its steps forever.
4. Let him alone fear, who does not fade as the leaf,--him whose
sources are not in God, and who does not draw his life thence,--him
whose spring is gathering no strength, whose summer is maturing no
fruit, and whose autumn shall have no vintage. Is not this the real
sorrow of us all? not a dread of change, but a secret consciousness of
wasted power,--of disloyalty to God, as the supreme object of our love
and service.
5. Yet even here the fading leaf brings hope. Our future is always
before us. The past is fixed. No tears can wash away its facts. Let us
waste no vain regrets upon it; but, from the wisdom which its very
mistakes and sins have bequeathed us, start afresh on the race. Though
yesterday we were weak, and selfish, and indolent, let us to-day--at
this moment--begin to be strong, and brave, and helpful, and just, and
generous, and considerate, and tender, and truthful, and pure, and
patient, and forgiving. "Now" is a glorious word. "HENCEFORTH" is always
within our grasp.
QUESTIONS.--1. To what are we compared? 2. What is said of change? 3.
What change takes place in the leaf? 4. What, in man? 5. Who have reason
to fear? 6. What is said of the past and the future?
* * * * *
LESSON CXIII.
UN HEED' ED, not regarded.
EX POS' ED, unprotected.
EX HORT' ED, urged; persuaded.
AT TUN' ED, put in tune.
ES SEN' TIAL, real; true.
AN NOUNC' ED, proclaimed.
TEACHINGS OF NATURE.
POLLOCK.
1. The seasons came and went, and went and came,
To teach men gratitude; and, as they passed,
Gave warning of the lapse of time, that else
Had stolen unheeded by: the gentle flowers
Retired, and, stooping o'er the wilderness,
Talked of humility, and peace, and love.
The dews came down unseen at evening tide.
And silently their bounties shed, to teach
Mankind unostentatious charity.
2. With arm in arm the forest rose on high,
And lesson gave of brotherly regard;
And, on the rugged mountain brow exposed,
Bearing the blast alone, the ancient oak
Stood, lifting high his mighty arm, and still
To courage in distress exhorted loud.
The flocks, the herds, the birds, the streams, the breeze,
Attuned the heart to melody and love.
3. Mercy stood in the cloud, with eye that wept
Essential love; and, from her glorious brow,
Bending to kiss the earth in token of peace,
With her own lips, her gracious lips, which God
Of sweetest accent made, she whispered still,
She whispered to Revenge, Forgive! forgive!
4. The Sun, rejoicing round the earth, announced
Daily the wisdom, power, and love of God.
The Moon awoke, and, from her maiden face
Shedding her cloudy locks, looked meekly forth,
And, with her virgin stars, walked in the heavens,--
Walked nightly there, conversing as she walked
Of purity, and holiness, and God.
5. In dreams and visions, sleep instructed much.
Day uttered speech to day, and night to night
Taught knowledge: silence had a tongue: the grave,
The darkness, and the lonely waste, had each
A tongue, that ever said, Man! think of God!
Think of thyself! think of eternity!
6. Fear God, the thunders said; Fear God, the waves;
Fear God, the lightning of the storm replied;
Fear God, deep loudly answered back to deep.
And, in the temples of the Holy One,
Messiah's messengers, the faithful few,
Faithful 'mong many false, the Bible opened,
And cried: Repent! repent, ye Sons of Men!
Believe, be saved.
QUESTIONS.--1. What do the seasons teach? 2. What, the trees?
3. What, the sun and moon? 4. What, Messiah's messengers?
* * * * *
LESSON CXIV.
BE DECK' ED, adorned.
AR RAY', dress; attire.
MAN' TLED, spread; rushed.
DE VO' TION, attachment.
I DOL A TROUS, excessive.
SEV' ER ED, rent; sundered.
EN CIR' CLED, inclosed; surrounded.
SA' BLES, mourning clothes.
GIFT' ED, talented.
FOUND ED, established.
AL LURE', (AL, _to_; LURE, _draw_;) draw to; entice.
PASSING UNDER THE ROD.
[Footnote: These lines are founded on the following passage of Jewish
history:--"It was the custom of the Jews to select the tenth of their
sheep after this manner: The lambs were separated from their dams, and
inclosed in a sheep-cot, with only one narrow way out; the lambs
hastened to join the dams, and a man, placed at the entrance, with a rod
dipped in ocher, touched every tenth lamb, and so marked it with his
rod, saying, 'LET THIS BE HOLY.' Hence, God says by his prophet, '_I
will cause you to pass under the rod_.'"]
MARY S.B. DANA.
1. I saw the young bride, in her beauty and pride,
Bedecked in her snowy array;
And the bright flush of joy mantled high on her cheek,
And the future looked blooming and gay:
And with a woman's devotion she laid her fond heart
At the shrine of idolatrous love;
And she anchored her hopes to this perishing earth,
By the chain which her tenderness wove.
But I saw, when those heartstrings were bleeding and torn,
And the chain had been severed in two,
She had changed her white robes for the sables of grief,
And her bloom for the paleness of woe!
But the Healer was there, pouring balm on her heart,
And wiping the tears from her eyes;
And He strengthened the chain He had broken in twain,
And fastened it firm to the skies!
There had whispered a voice,--'twas the voice of her God:
"I love thee--I love thee--_pass under the rod!_"
2. I saw the young mother in tenderness bend
O'er the couch of her slumbering boy;
And she kissed the soft lips as they murmured her name,
While the dreamer lay smiling in joy.
Oh, sweet as the rose-bud encircled with dew,
When its fragrance is flung on the air,
So fresh and so bright to that mother he seemed,
As he lay in his innocence there.
But I saw when she gazed on the same lovely form,
Pale as marble, and silent, and cold,
But paler and colder her beautiful boy,
And the tale of her sorrow was told!
But the Healer was there, who had stricken her heart,
And taken her treasure away;
To allure her to heaven, He has placed it on high,
And the mourner will sweetly obey.
There had whispered a voice,--'twas the voice of her God:
"I love thee--I love thee--_pass under the rod!_"
3. I saw, too, a father and mother who leaned
On the arms of a dear gifted son;
And the star in the future grew bright to their gaze,
As they saw the proud place he had won;
And the fast coming evening of life promised fair,
And its pathway grew smooth to their feet,
And the starlight of love glimmered bright at the end,
And the whispers of fancy were sweet.
And I saw them again, bending low o'er the grave,
Where their hearts' dearest hope had been laid;
And the star had gone down in the darkness of night,
And the joy from their bosoms had fled.
But the Healer was there, and His arms were around,
And He led them with tenderest care;
And He showed them a star in the bright upper world,
'Twas their star shining brilliantly there!
They had each heard a voice,--'twas the voice of their God:
"I love thee--I love thee--_pass under the rod_!"
QUESTIONS.--1. What custom is alluded to, in the passage "_I will cause
you to pass under the rod?_" See note. 2. Where is that passage found in
the Scriptures? Ans. Ezekiel, 20th chap., 37th verse. 3. What instances
are mentioned of individuals "_passing under the rod_?"
* * * * *
LESSON CXV.
PET' U LANT, cross; fretful.
CA LAM' I TY, misfortune.
SA TIR' IC AL, keenly severe; cutting.
NUI' SANCE, annoyance.
JUST' I FY, give a right to.
STU PID' I TY, extreme dullness.
CUL' PABLE, blamable; censurable.
IR RI TA BIL' I TY, excitableness.
AP PEL LA' TION, name; title.
VE' HE MENT, violent; furious.
VO CIF ER A' TIONS, loud outcries.
MEN' A CES, threats.
CEN' SUR ED, blamed.
VIN DI CA' TION, justification.
LON GEV' I TY, length of life.
CON TEMPT' I BLE, despicable.
THE PETULANT MAN.
OSBORNE.
MR. GRIM--MICHAEL--COUSIN MARY.
_Cousin Mary_. More breezes? What terrible thing has happened now,
Cousin Grim? What's the matter?
_Grim_. Matter enough, I should think! I sent this stupid fellow to
bring me a pair of boots from the closet; and he has brought me two
rights, instead of a right and left.
_Cousin_. What a serious calamity! But, perhaps, he thought it was but
_right_ to leave the _left_.
_Grim_. None of your jokes, if you please. This is nothing to laugh at.
_Cousin_. So it would seem, from the expression on your face,--rather
something to storm at, roar at, and fall into a frenzy about.
_Michael_. That's right, Miss; give him a piece of your mind! He's the
crossest little man I have met with in the new country. You might scrape
old Ireland with a fine-tooth comb, and not find such another.
_Grim_. How dare you talk to me in that style? I'll discharge you this
very day!
_Michael_. I'm thinking of discharging _you_, if you don't take better
care of that _sweet temper_ of yours.
_Grim_. Leave the room, sir!
_Michael_. That I will, in search of better company, saving the lady's
presence. [_Exit._
_Grim_. There, cousin! there is a specimen of my provocations! Can you
wonder at my losing my temper?
_Cousin_. Cousin Grim, that would be the most _fortunate_ thing that
could befall you.
_Grim_. What do you mean?
_Cousin_. I mean, if you could only _lose that temper_ of yours, it
would be a blessed thing for you; though I should pity the poor fellow
who _found it._ _Grim_. You are growing satirical in your old age,
Cousin Mary.
_Cousin_. Cousin Grim, hear the plain truth; your ill temper makes you a
nuisance to yourself and every body about you.
_Grim_. Really, Miss Mary Somerville, you are getting to be
complimentary!
_Cousin_. No; I am getting to be _candid_. I have passed a week in your
house, on your invitation. I leave you this afternoon; but, before I go,
I mean to speak my mind.
_Grim_. It seems to me that you have spoken it rather freely already.
_Cousin_. What was there, in the circumstance of poor Michael's bringing
you the wrong boots, to justify your flying into a rage, and bellowing
as if your life had been threatened?
_Grim_. That fellow is perpetually making just such provoking blunders!
_Cousin_. And do you never make provoking blunders'? Didn't you send me
five pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote for Souchong'? Didn't you send a
carriage for me to the cars, half an hour too late, so that I had to
hire one myself, after great trouble'? And did I roar at you, when we
met, because you had done these things'?
_Grim_. On the contrary, this is the first time you have alluded to
them. I am sorry they should have happened. But surely you should make a
_distinction_ between any such little oversight of mine, and the
stupidity of a servant, hired to attend to your orders.
_Cousin_. I do not admit that there should be a distinction. You are
both human; only, as you have had the better education, and the greater
advantages, stupidity or neglect on your part, is much the more
culpable.
_Grim_. Thank you! Go on.
_Cousin_. I mean to; so don't be impatient. If an uncooked potato, or a
burnt mutton-chop, happens to fall to your lot at the dinner-table, what
a tempest follows! One would think you had been wronged, insulted,
trampled on, driven to despair. Your face is like a thunder-cloud, all
the rest of the meal. Your poor wife endeavors to hide her tears. Your
children feel timid and miserable. Your guest feels as if she would like
to see you held under the nose of the pump, and thoroughly ducked.
_Grim_. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, and the driver
has put on your baggage.
_Cousin_. I have hired that carriage by the hour, and so am in no hurry.
Your excuse for your irritability will be, I suppose, that it is
_constitutional_, and not to be controlled. A selfish, paltry, miserable
excuse! I have turned down a leaf in Dr. Johnson's works, and will read
what he says in regard to tempers like yours.
_Grim_. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson! Cousin, I can not endure it!
Dr. Johnson is a bore!
_Cousin_. Oh, yes! to _evil-doers_,--but to none else. Hear him: "There
is in the world a class of mortals known, and contentedly known, by the
appellation of _passionate men_, who imagine themselves entitled, by
this distinction, to be provoked on every slight occasion, and to vent
their rage in vehement and fierce vociferations, in furious menaces, and
licentious reproaches."
_Grim_. That will do.
_Cousin_. "Men of this kind," he tells us, "are often pitied rather than
censured, and are not treated with the severity which their neglect of
the ease of all about them, might justly provoke." But he adds: "It is
surely not to be observed without indignation, that men may be found of
minds mean enough to be satisfied with this treatment; wretches who are
proud to obtain the privilege of madmen, and----"
_Grim_. I will hear no more! Have done!
_Cousin_. So the shaft went home! I am not sorry.
_Grim_. No one but a meddlesome old maid would think of insulting a man
in his own house.
_Cousin_. So, when, at a loss for a vindication, you reproach me with
being an old maid! Cousin, it does not distress me, either to be an old
maid, or to be called one. I must, however, remark, that the manhood
that can charge against a woman her single state, either as a matter of
ridicule or reproach, is not quite up to my standard.
_Grim_. Cousin Mary, I ask your pardon! But am I, indeed, the petulant,
disagreeable fellow, you would make me out?
_Cousin_. My dear Caspar, you are generous enough in large things; but,
oh! consider that _trifles make up a good portion of the sum of life_;
and so "_a small unkindness is a great offense_." Why not be cheerful,
sunny, genial, in little things? Why not look on the bright side? Why
not present an unruffled front to petty annoyances? Why not labor,--ay,
labor,--to have those around you happy and contented, by reflecting from
yourself such a frame of mind upon them?
Life is short, at the best; why not make it cheerful? Do you know that
longevity is promoted by a tranquil, happy habit of thought and temper'?
Do you know that cheerfulness, like mercy, is twice blessed; blessing
"him that gives, and him that takes'?" Do you know that good manners, as
well as good sense, demand that we should look at objects on their
bright side'? Do you know that it is contemptible selfishness in you to
shed gloom and sorrow over a whole family by your moroseness and
ill-humor'?
_Grim_. Cousin Mary, the patience with which I have listened to your
cutting remarks, will prove to you, I hope, that, notwithstanding my
angry retorts, I am convinced there is much truth in what you have said
of me. I have a favor to ask. Send away your carriage; stay a week
longer,--a month,--a year, if you will. Hold the lash over this ugly
temper of mine,--and I give you my word that I will set about the cure
of it in earnest.
_Cousin_. You should have begun earlier,--in youth, when the temper is
pliable, and strong impressions can work great changes. But we will not
despair. I will tarry with you a while, just to see if you are serious
in your wish for a reformation, and to help you bring it about.
_Grim_. Thank you. We hear of reformed drunkards, and reformed thieves;
and _why may not a petulant temper be reformed_, but a system of total
abstinence from all harsh, unkind moods and expressions? Come, we will
try.
QUESTIONS.--1. At what was Mr. Grim offended? 2. What did Cousin Mary
say would be fortunate for him? 3. What blunder had Mr. Grim made? 4.
How did he often behave at the table? 5. What does Dr. Johnson say of
such men? 6. What did Cousin Mary finally say to him? 7. Of what was he
convinced? 8. What did he resolve to do?
* * * * *
LESSON CXVI.
SAC' RI FICE, religious offering.
STRAIGHT, immediately.
SCUR' VY, low; mean.
SCRU' PLE, hesitate.
EN DURE', suffer'; tolerate.
IM PURE, filthy; unclean.
UT TER LY, entirely; completely.
BLEM' ISH, defect; deformity.
WA' VER ED, hesitated.
IM PAR' TIAL, just; free from bias.
RE FER', leave to another.
PAR' DON, forgive.
GHEE, kind of butter used in India.
DIS TRUST' ING, suspecting.
PAL PA BLE, obvious; evident.
LAUD' ING, praising.
THE BRAHMIN AND THE ROGUES.
[Footnote: The fable, here thrown into verse, is related in English
prose by Macaulay, who says:--"Thus, or nearly thus, if we remember
rightly, runs the story of the Sanscrit Aesop."]
AN EASTERN FABLE.
VERSIFIED BY J.N. McELLIGOTT.
1. A Brahmin went out, the legends say,
To buy him a sheep a certain day;
For he had solemnly vowed to slay,
In sacrifice, a sheep that day,
And wanted a sheep his vow to pay.
Three neighboring rogues
(The cunning dogs!)
Finding this out,
Went straight about
(Moved, I ween, by the very Old Nick,)
To play the Brahmin a scurvy trick.
2. So one of them met him with the cry:--
"O Brahmin! O Brahmin! won't you buy
A beautiful sheep? for here have I
A beautiful sheep for sacrifice,
As ever was seen by mortal eyes."
3. "Where is your sheep?" replied the Brahmin;
"Bring him out here, and let me examine."
With that the wag
Opened a bag,
And out he drew
To public view
An ugly, dirty, horrible dog!
Blind as a bat, and lame as a frog;
With a broken leg, climbing a log.
Or limping slowly over a bog.
4. "Wretch!" said the Brahmin indignant, "who
Shamelessly utterest things untrue,
And dost without a scruple endure
To handle creatures the most impure,
How darest thou call that cur a sheep?
Do you think, foul knave, that I'm asleep?"
5. "_Cur'!_" said the fellow with steady tone;
"A _sheep_ it is, and a sheep alone;
A sheep (see here, what a splendid fleece!)
With flesh the sweetest, and fat as grease;
And such a prize
For sacrifice,
As neither gods nor men can despise,
Unless they both have dust in their eyes!"
"Sir," said the Brahmin, surprised to find
A person so utterly out of his mind,
"'Tis certain that _you_ or _I_ am blind."
6. Then stepping up,
Patting the pup,
Rogue the second, as if amazed,
While on the dog he steadily gazed,
Exclaims aloud:--"The gods be praised!
Since I've no need to market to go
To buy me a sheep; for here's one so
From spot and blemish perfectly free,
That better could not possibly be.
Isn't it nice?
What's your price?"
7. The Brahmin, seeing this singular thing,
Wavered in mind, like one in a swing;
Yet answered the stranger, firmly,--"Sir,
This isn't a sheep, but only a cur."
"_Cur_?" with disdain, the new-comer said;
"Why, man, you're surely out of your head!"
8. As this occurred,
Came rogue the third,
To whom, as being a witness new,
And likely to take impartial view,
Brahmin proposed at once to refer,
Whether the creature was _sheep_ or _cur_.
All being agreed, the eager priest
Said:--"Stranger, what do you call this beast?"
"A _sheep_, to be sure!" the knave replied;
"As fine a sheep as ever you spied."
9. "Well," said the Brahmin, "the gods this day
Have surely taken my senses away!"
Then begging the rogue
That carried the dog,
To pardon him for doubting his word,
He, with a readiness most absurd,
Purchased the creature with rice and ghee,
Which went, of course, to the worthless three,
And which they shared with wonderful glee.
10. Thus taken in,
The poor Brahmin
Offered it up,
The filthy pup,
Which so offended the gods, that they
Sent sore disease his folly to pay:
Thinking it right the man to chastise
For so distrusting his natural eyes,
And being led by palpable lies
To offer a dog as a sacrifice.
MORAL.
Look out for the arts of the puffing tribe,--
People that praise for the sake of a bribe;
Lavishly lauding a book or a pill,
Or any thing else the pocket to fill;
Singing Simplicity fast asleep,
And making her dream a dog's a sheep.
QUESTIONS.--1. What trick did the three rogues play off on the Brahmin?
2. In what way did they do this? 3. What moral is taught in this fable?
* * * * *
LESSON CXVII.
E LAS TIC' I TY, returning vigor.
MIN' I FIES, lessens; makes small.
DEG RA DA' TION, abasement.
ES TRANGED, alienates.
UN ALMS' ED, not having received alms.
HA BIT' U AL, accustomed.
EX TRAV' A GANCE, superfluous expense.
IM PER' TI NENCE, that which is not pertinent.
SUS PI' CIOUS, distrustful.
E CON' O MY, frugality.
TRAN' QUIL, calm; undisturbed.
BE NUMB' ING, dull; stupefying.
IM PROV' I DENCE, wastefulness.
LIVING WITHIN OUR MEANS.
S.W. PARTRIDGE.
1. _Oh, beware of debt_!
It crushes out the manhood of a man,
Robs his bright eye of boldness, cheats his limbs
Of elasticity, unnerves his hand,
Beclouds his judgment, dulls his intellect,
Perils his uprightness, and stains his name,
And minifies him to his fellow-men;
Yea, far worse degradation, to himself.
2. Who hath the hurried step, the anxious eye,
Avoids the public haunt and open street,
And anxious waits for evening? Restlessly
Tosses upon his bed, and dreads the approach
Of the tell-tale morning sunlight? Who, unmanned,
Starts at the sudden knock, and shrinks with dread
E'en at his own shadow; shuns with care
The stranger's look, skulks from his fellow's glance,
And sees in every man a creditor?
3. The _debtor_;--he is only half a man;
He saddens and estranges his chief friends,
Burdens his dearest relatives; he hears
In vain the stranger's tale, the widow's prayer,
And sends away the orphan all unalmsed.
None dare to place him in a post of trust,
And business men regard him with a shrug.
4. "Owe no man aught." Stand in the world erect,
And lean alone upon thyself and God.
The habitual borrower will be ever found
Wicked, or weak, or both. Sweat, study, stint,
Yea, rather _any thing_ than meanly owe.
Let thine own honest hands feed thee and thine,
And, if not thy friend's purse, at least, respect
Thine own sweet independence.
5. Have fewest wants: the book, however good,
Thou shouldst not purchase, let it go unbought;
And fashion's vests by thee be all unworn.
Soon luxuries become necessities,
But self-denying thrift more joy affords
Than all the pleasures of extravagance.
A cottage, free from clamorous creditors,
Is better than a mansion dunned; a coat,
However darned, if paid for, hath an ease,
And a respectability beside:
Gay, ill-afforded vests can never boast.
6. However cheap,
Whatever thou want'st not, buy not. That is dear,
A mere extravagant impertinence,
For which thou hast no need. Feel first the want
Ere it be satisfied; bargains full oft
Are money-wasting things, that prudent men
Will keep afar from with suspicious eye;
Perchance to any but of little use,
And to themselves, most likely, none at all.
7. The habit of economy once formed,
'Tis easy to attain to prosperous things.
Thou then shalt lend, not borrow: shalt not want
A helping trifle when thy friend hath need,
Or means to seize an opportunity,--
Seed-coin, to ensure a harvest. Thou shalt then
Want not an alms for pinching poverty;
And, though a sudden sickness dam the stream,
And cut off thy supplies, thou shalt lie down
And view thy morrows with a tranquil eye;
Even benumbing age shall scare thee not,
But find thee unindebted, and secure
From all the penury and wretchedness
That dog the footsteps of improvidence.
* * * * *
LESSON CXVIII.
OM NIP' O TENT, all-powerful.
IN TER' MI NA BLE, endless.
MILK Y-WAY, galaxy; luminous circle in the heavens.
AS' TRAL, starry.
IN FIN' I TUDE, unlimited extent.
IM PET' U OUS, rushing.
AS TRON O MER, one skilled in the science of the stars.
AP PROX' I MATE LY, nearly.
OM NIS' CIENCE, knowledge of all things.
PER TUR BA' TIONS, irregularities of motion.
AB' SO LUTE, entire.
PRE CIS' ION, exactness.
AD JUST' MENTS, arrangements.
RET' I NUE, company.
SAT' EL LITES, small planets revolving round others.
GRANDEUR OF THE UNIVERSE.
O.M. MITCHEL.
1. If you would know the _glory_ of the Omnipotent Ruler of the
universe, examine the interminable range of suns and systems which crowd
the Milky-Way. Multiply the hundred millions of stars which belong to
our own "island universe" by the thousands of these astral systems that
exist in space, within the range of human vision, and _then_ you may
form some idea of the _infinitude_ of His kingdom; for lo! these are but
a part of His ways.
2. Examine the scale on which the universe is built. Comprehend, if you
can, the vast dimensions of our sun. Stretch outward through his system,
from planet to planet, and circumscribe the whole within the immense
circumference of Neptune's orbit. This is but a single unit out of the
myriads of similar systems.
3. Take the wings of light, and flash with impetuous speed, day and
night, and month, and year, till youth shall wear away, and middle age
is gone, and the extremest limit of human life has been attained;--count
every pulse, and, at each, speed on your way a hundred thousand miles;
and when a hundred years have rolled by, look out, and behold! the
thronging millions of blazing suns are still around you, each separated
from the other by such a distance, that, in this journey of a century,
you have only left half a score behind you.
4. Would you gather some idea of the _eternity_ past of God's
existence,--go to the astronomer, and bid him lead you in one of his
walks through space; and, as he sweeps outward from object to object,
from universe to universe, remember that the light from those filmy
stains on the deep pure blue of heaven, now falling on your eye, has
been traversing space for a million of years.
5. Would you gather some knowledge of the _omnipotence_ of God,--weigh
the earth on which we dwell, then count the millions of its inhabitants
that have come and gone for the last six thousand years. Unite their
strength into one arm, and test its power in an effort to move this
earth. It could not stir it a single foot in a thousand years; and yet
under the omnipotent hand of God, not a minute passes that it does not
fly more than a thousand miles.
6. But this is a mere atom,--the most insignificant point among his
innumerable worlds. At his bidding, every planet, and satellite, and
comet, and the sun himself, fly onward in their appointed courses. His
single arm guides the millions of sweeping suns, and around His throne
circles the great constellation of unnumbered universes.
7. Would you comprehend the idea of the _omniscience_ of God,--remember
that the highest pinnacle of knowledge reached by the whole human race,
by the combined efforts of its brightest intellects, has enabled the
astronomer to compute approximately the perturbations of the planetary
worlds. He has predicted roughly the return of half a score of comets.
But God has computed the mutual perturbations of millions of suns, and
planets, and comets, and worlds, without number, through the ages that
are passed, and throughout the ages which are yet to come, not
approximately, but with perfect and absolute precision.
8. The universe is in motion,--system rising above system, cluster above
cluster, nebula above nebula,--all majestically sweeping around under
the providence of God, who alone knows the end from the beginning, and
before whose glory and power all intelligent beings, whether in heaven
or on earth, should bow with humility and awe.
9. Would you gain some idea of the _wisdom_ of God,--look to the
admirable adjustments of the magnificent retinue of planets and
satellites which sweep around the sun. Every globe has been weighed and
poised, every orbit has been measured and bent to its beautiful form.
10. All is changing; but the laws fixed by the wisdom of God, though
they permit the rocking to and fro of the system, never introduce
disorder, or lead to destruction. All is perfect and harmonious, and the
music of the spheres that burn and roll around our sun, is echoed by
that of ten millions of moving worlds, that sing and shine around the
bright suns that reign above.
11. If, overwhelmed with the grandeur and majesty of the universe of
God, we are led to exclaim with the Hebrew poet-king,--"When I consider
Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou
hast ordained, what is man, that Thou art mindful of him? and the son of
man, that Thou visitest him?"--If fearful that the eye of God may
overlook us in the immensity of His kingdom, we have only to call to
mind that other passage, "Yet Thou hast made him but a little lower than
the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him
to have dominion over all the works of Thy hand; Thou hast put all
things under his feet." Such are the teachings of the word, and such are
the lessons of the works of God.
* * * * *
LESSON CXIX.
"WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN BUT THEE?"
MISS PAMELIA S. VINING.
1. 'Twere naught to me, yon glorious arch of night,
Decked with the gorgeous blazonry of heaven,
If, to my faith, amid its splendors bright,
No vision of the Eternal One were given;
I could but view a dreary, soulless waste,--
A vast expanse of solitude unknown,
More cheerless for the splendors o'er it cast,--
For all its grandeur more intensely lone.
2. 'Twere naught to me, this ever-changeful scene
Of earthly beauty, sunshine, and delight,--
The wood's deep shadows and the valley's green,--
Morn's tender glow, and sunset's splendors bright;
Naught, if my Father spoke not from the sky,
The cloud, the flower, the landscape, and the leaf;
My soul would pine 'mid earth's vain pageantry,
And droop in hopeless orphanage and grief.
3. 'Twere naught to me, the ocean's vast expanse,
If His perfections were not mirrored there;
Hopeless across the unmeasured waste I'd glance,
And clasp my hands in anguish, not in prayer.
Naught Nature's anthem, ever swelling up
From Nature's myriad voices; for the hymn
Breathes not of love, or gratitude, or hope,
Robbed of the tones that tell my soul of Him.
4. This wondrous universe how less than naught
Without my God! how desolate and drear!
A mock'ry, earth with her vain splendors fraught!
A gilded pageant, every rolling sphere!
The noonday sun with all his glories crowned,
A sickly meteor glimmers faint and pale!
And all earth's melodies, their sweetness drowned,
Are but the utterance of a funeral wail.
* * * * *
LESSON CXX.
THE MEMORY OF WASHINGTON.
KOSSUTH.
1. Mr. President: I consider it a particular favor of Providence that I
am permitted to partake, on the present solemn occasion, in paying the
tribute of honor and gratitude to the memory of your immortal
Washington.
2. An architect having raised a proud and noble building to the service
of the Almighty, his admirers desired to erect a monument to his memory.
How was it done? His name was inscribed upon the wall, with these
additional words: "You seek his monument--look around."
3. Let him who looks for a monument of Washington look around the United
States. The whole country is a monument to him. Your freedom, your
independence, your national power, your prosperity, and your prodigious
growth, is a monument to Washington.
4. There is no room left for panegyric, none especially to a stranger
whom you had full reason to charge with arrogance, were he able to
believe that his feeble voice could claim to be noticed in the mighty
harmony of a nation's praise. Let me, therefore, instead of such an
arrogant attempt, pray that that God, to whose providential intentions
Washington was a glorious instrument, may impart to the people of the
United States the same wisdom for the conservation of the present
prosperity of the land and for its future security, which he gave to
Washington for the foundation of it.
5. I yield to nobody in the world in reverence and respect to the
immortal memory of Washington. His life and his principles were the
guiding star of my life; to that star I looked up for inspiration and
advice, during the vicissitudes of my stormy life. Hence I drew that
devotion to my country and to the cause of national freedom, which you,
gentlemen, and millions of your fellow-citizens, and your national
government, are so kind as to honor by unexampled distinction.
6. Sir, I have studied the history of your immortal Washington, and
have, from my early youth, considered his principles as a living source
of instruction to statesmen and to patriots.
When, in that very year in which Washington issued his Farewell Address,
M. Adet, the French Minister, presented to him the flag of the French
Republic, Washington, as President of the United States, answered
officially, with these memorable words:
"Born in a land of liberty, having early learned its value, having
engaged in a perilous conflict to defend it, having devoted the best
years of my life to secure its permanent establishment in my country, my
anxious recollections, my sympathetic feelings, and my best wishes, are
irresistibly attracted, whensoever in any country I see an oppressed
nation unfurl the banner of freedom."
7. Thus spoke Washington. Have I not then full reason to say, that if he
were alive his generous sympathy would be with me; and the sympathy of a
Washington never was, and never would be, a barren word. Washington, who
raised the word "honesty" as a rule of policy, never would have
professed a sentiment which his wisdom as a statesman would not have
approved.
8. Sir! here let me end. I consider it already as an immense benefit
that your generous attention connected the cause of Hungary with the
celebration of the memory of Washington.
9. Spirit of the departed! smile down from heaven upon this appreciation
of my country's cause; watch over those principles which thou hast taken
for the guiding star of thy noble life, and the time will yet come when
not only thine own country, but liberated Europe, also, will be a living
monument to thy immortal name.
* * * * *
LESSON CXXI.
THE LOST ONE'S LAMENT.
1. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow,
Filling the sky and earth below;
Over the housetops, over the street,
Over the heads of the people you meet,
Dancing,
Flirting,
Skimming along!
Beautiful snow! it can do no wrong.
Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek,
Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak,
Beautiful snow from the Heaven above,
Pure as an angel, gentle as love!
2. Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow,
How the flakes gather and laugh as they go?
Whirling about in its maddening fun,
It plays in its glee with every one;
Chasing,
Laughing,
Hurrying by,
It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye!
And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound,
Snap at the crystals that eddy around.
The town is alive, and its heart in a glow
To welcome the coming of beautiful snow.
3. How wild the crowd goes swaying along,
Hailing each other with humor and song!
How the gay sledges, like meteors, flash by,
Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye!
Ringing,
Swinging,
Dashing they go
Over the crust of the beautiful snow;
Snow so pure when it falls from the sky,
To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by,
To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet,
Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street
4. How strange it should be that this beautiful snow,
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go!
How strange it should be, when the night comes again
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain!
Fainting,
Freezing,
Dying alone,
Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan
To be heard in the crazy town,
Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down;
To lie and so die, in my terrible woe,
With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow!