some parts of the coast, as soon as ships come in sight, either to bear
on board or to convey from thence letters or messages. These frail
vessels are composed of thin cocoa-tree logs, lashed together, and big
enough to carry one, or, at most, two persons. In one of these a small
sail is fixed, and the navigator steers with a little paddle; the float
itself is almost entirely sunk in the water, so that the effect is very
singular--a sail sweeping along the surface with a man behind it, and
apparently nothing to support them. Those which have no sails are
consequently invisible and the men have the appearance of treading the
water and performing evolutions with a racket. In very rough weather the
men lash themselves to their little rafts but in ordinary seas they
seem, though frequently washed off, to regard such accidents as mere
trifles, being naked all but a wax cloth cap in which they keep any
letters they may have to convey to ships in the roads, and swimming like
fish. Their only danger is from sharks, which are said to abound. These
cannot hurt them while on their floats; but woe be to them if they catch
them while separated from that defence. Yet, even then, the case is not
quite hopeless, since the shark can only attack them from below; and a
rapid dive, if not in very deep water, will sometimes save them.
* * * * *
THE SEASONS.
SPRING.
[Illustration: Letter C.]
Come, gentle Spring, ethereal mildness, come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
* * * * *
Hail! Source of Being! Universal Soul
Of heaven and earth! Essential Presence, hail;
To Thee I bend the knee; to Thee my thought
Continual climb; who, with a master hand.
Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd.
By Thee the various vegetative tribes,
Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves,
Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew:
By Thee disposed into congenial soils,
Stands each attractive plant, and sucks and swells
The juicy tide--a twining mass of tubes.
At thy command the vernal sun awakes
The torpid sap, detruded to the root
By wintry winds, that now in fluent dance,
And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads
All this innumerous-colour'd scene of things.
As rising from the vegetable world
My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend
My panting Muse! And hark! how loud the woods
Invite you forth in all your gayest trim.
Lend me your song, ye nightingales! oh, pour
The mazy running soul of melody
Into my varied verse! while I deduce
From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings,
The symphony of spring, and touch a theme
Unknown to fame, the passion of the groves.
[Illustration: SPRING.]
SUMMER.
[Illustration: Letter F.]
From bright'ning fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry hours,
And ever-fanning breezes on his way;
While from his ardent look the turning Spring
Averts his blushing face, and earth and skies,
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.
* * * * *
Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth
Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth
A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands
Gazing the inverted landscape, half afraid
To meditate the blue profound below;
Then plunges headlong down the circling flood.
His ebon tresses, and his rosy cheek,
Instant emerge: and through the obedient wave,
At each short breathing by his lip repell'd,
With arms and legs according well, he makes,
As humour leads, an easy-winding path;
While from his polish'd sides a dewy light
Effuses on the pleased spectators round.
This is the purest exercise of health.
The kind refresher of the Summer heats:
Nor, when cold Winter keens the brightening flood,
Would I, weak-shivering, linger on the brink.
Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserved
By the bold swimmer, in the swift elapse
Of accident disastrous.
[Illustration: SUMMER.]
AUTUMN.
[Illustration: Letter C.]
Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn nodding o'er the yellow plain
Comes jovial on, the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whatever the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared, the various-blossom'd Spring
Put in white promised forth, and Summer suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
* * * * *
Hence from the busy, joy-resounding fields
In cheerful error let us tread the maze
Of Autumn, unconfined; and taste, revived,
The breath of orchard big with bending fruit.
Obedient to the breeze and beating ray,
From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower
Incessant melts away. The juicy pear
Lies in a soft profusion scatter'd round.
A various sweetness swells the gentle race,
By Nature's all-refining hand prepared;
Of tempered sun, and water, earth, and air,
In ever-changing composition mix'd.
Such, falling frequent through the chiller night,
The fragrant stores, the wide projected heaps
Of apples, which the lusty-handed year,
Innumerous, o'er the blushing orchard shakes.
[Illustration: AUTUMN.]
WINTER.
[Illustration: Letter S.]
See, Winter comes to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train--
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These--that exalt the soul to solemn thought
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms;
Congenial horrors, hail: with frequent foot,
Pleased have I, in my cheerful morn of life,
When nursed by careless solitude I lived,
And sung of nature with unceasing joy;
Pleased have I wander'd through your rough domain,
Trod the pure virgin snows, myself as pure;
Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst,
Or seen the deep-fermenting tempest brew'd
In the grim evening sky.
* * * * *
Nature! great parent! whose unceasing hand
Rolls round the seasons of the changeful year,
How mighty, how majestic are thy works!
With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul,
That sees astonish'd, and astonish'd sings!
Ye, too, ye winds! that now begin to blow
With boisterous sweep, I raise my voice to you.
Where are your stores, ye powerful beings, say,
Where your aerial magazines reserved
To swell the brooding terrors of the storm?
In what far distant region of the sky,
Hush'd in deep silence, sleep ye when 'tis calm?
* * * * *
'Tis done; dread Winter spreads his latest glooms,
And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year.
How dead the vegetable kingdom lies!
How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends
His desolate domain. Behold, fond man!
See here thy pictured life! Pass some few years
Thy flowering spring, thy summer's ardent strength,
And sober autumn fading into age,
The pale concluding winter comes at last
The shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled
Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes
Of happiness? those longings after fame?
Those restless cares? those busy bustling days?
Those gay-spent festive nights? those veering thoughts,
Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life?
All now are vanish'd; virtue sole survives,
Immortal, never-failing friend of man--
His guide to happiness on high.
THOMSON.
[Illustration: WINTER.]
[Illustration: AND PALE CONCLUDING WINTER COMES AT LAST, AND SHUTS THE
SCENE.]
* * * * *
ON MUSIC.
[Illustration: Letter T.]
There are few who have not felt the charms of music, and acknowledged
its expressions to be intelligible to the heart. It is a language of
delightful sensations, that is far more eloquent than words: it breathes
to the ear the clearest intimations; but how it was learned, to what
origin we owe it, or what is the meaning of some of its most affecting
strains, we know not.
We feel plainly that music touches and gently agitates the agreeable and
sublime passions; that it wraps us in melancholy, and elevates us to
joy; that it dissolves and inflames; that it melts us into tenderness,
and rouses into rage: but its strokes are so fine and delicate, that,
like a tragedy, even the passions that are wounded please; its sorrows
are charming, and its rage heroic and delightful. As people feel the
particular passions with different degrees of force, their taste of
harmony must proportionably vary. Music, then, is a language directed to
the passions; but the rudest passions put on a new nature, and become
pleasing in harmony: let me add, also, that it awakens some passions
which we perceive not in ordinary life. Particularly the most elevated
sensation of music arises from a confused perception of ideal or
visionary beauty and rapture, which is sufficiently perceivable to fire
the imagination, but not clear enough to become an object of knowledge.
This shadowy beauty the mind attempts, with a languishing curiosity, to
collect into a distinct object of view and comprehension; but it sinks
and escapes, like the dissolving ideas of a delightful dream, that are
neither within the reach of the memory, nor yet totally fled. The
noblest charm of music, then, though real and affecting, seems too
confused and fluid to be collected into a distinct idea.
Harmony is always understood by the crowd, and almost always mistaken by
musicians. The present Italian taste for music is exactly correspondent
to the taste for tragi-comedy, that about a century ago gained ground
upon the stage. The musicians of the present day are charmed at the
union they form between the grave and the fantastic, and at the
surprising transitions they make between extremes, while every hearer
who has the least remainder of the taste of nature left, is shocked at
the strange jargon. If the same taste should prevail in painting, we
must soon expect to see the woman's head, a horse's body, and a fish's
tail, united by soft gradations, greatly admired at our public
exhibitions. Musical gentlemen should take particular care to preserve
in its full vigour and sensibility their original natural taste, which
alone feels and discovers the true beauty of music.
If Milton, Shakspeare, or Dryden had been born with the same genius and
inspiration for music as for poetry, and had passed through the
practical part without corrupting the natural taste, or blending with it
any prepossession in favour of sleights and dexterities of hand, then
would their notes be tuned to passions and to sentiments as natural and
expressive as the tones and modulations of the voice in discourse. The
music and the thought would not make different expressions; the hearers
would only think impetuously; and the effect of the music would be to
give the ideas a tumultuous violence and divine impulse upon the mind.
Any person conversant with the classic poets, sees instantly that the
passionate power of music I speak of, was perfectly understood and
practised by the ancients--that the Muses of the Greeks always sung, and
their song was the echo of the subject, which swelled their poetry into
enthusiasm and rapture. An inquiry into the nature and merits of the
ancient music, and a comparison thereof with modern composition, by a
person of poetic genius and an admirer of harmony, who is free from the
shackles of practice, and the prejudices of the mode, aided by the
countenance of a few men of rank, of elevated and true taste, would
probably lay the present half-Gothic mode of music in ruins, like those
towers of whose little laboured ornaments it is an exact picture, and
restore the Grecian taste of passionate harmony once more to the delight
and wonder of mankind. But as from the disposition of things, and the
force of fashion, we cannot hope in our time to rescue the sacred lyre,
and see it put into the hands of men of genius, I can only recall you to
your own natural feeling of harmony and observe to you, that its
emotions are not found in the laboured, fantastic, and surprising
compositions that form the modern style of music: but you meet them in
some few pieces that are the growth of wild unvitiated taste; you
discover them in the swelling sounds that wrap us in imaginary grandeur;
in those plaintive notes that make us in love with woe; in the tones
that utter the lover's sighs, and fluctuate the breast with gentle pain;
in the noble strokes that coil up the courage and fury of the soul, or
that lull it in confused visions of joy; in short, in those affecting
strains that find their way to the inmost recesses of the heart,
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony.--_Milton_.
USHER.
* * * * *
THE AFFLICTED POOR.
Say ye--oppress'd by some fantastic woes,
Some jarring nerve that baffles your repose,
Who press the downy couch while slaves advance
With timid eye to read the distant glance;
Who with sad pray'rs the weary doctor tease,
To name the nameless, ever new disease;
Who with mock patience dire complaint endure,
Which real pain, and that alone, can cure:
How would ye bear in real pain to lie,
Despised, neglected, left alone to die?
How would ye bear to draw your latest breath,
Where all that's wretched paves the way for death?
Such is that room which one rude beam divides,
And naked rafters form the sloping sides;
Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are seen,
And lath and mud are all that lie between,
Save one dull pane that coarsely patch'd gives way
To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day:
There, on a matted flock with dust o'erspread,
The drooping wretch reclines his languid head!
For him no hand the cordial cup supplies,
Nor wipes the tear which stagnates in his eyes;
No friends, with soft discourse, his pangs beguile.
Nor promise hope till sickness wears a smile.
CRABBE.
[Illustration: GEORGE CRABBE.]
* * * * *
MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS.
[Illustration: Letter T.]
Thou, who didst put to flight
Primeval silence, when the morning stars,
Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball:
O Thou! whose word from solid darkness struck
That spark, the sun, strike wisdom from my soul;
My soul which flies to thee, her trust her treasure,
As misers to their gold, while others rest:
Through this opaque of nature and of soul,
This double night, transmit one pitying ray,
To lighten and to cheer. Oh, lead my mind,
(A mind that fain would wander from its woe,)
Lead it through various scenes of life and death,
And from each scene the noblest truths inspire.
Nor less inspire my conduct, than my song;
Teach my best reason, reason; my best will
Teach rectitude; and fix my firm resolve
Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear;
Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, pour'd
On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain.
The bell strikes One. We take no note of time
But from its loss; to give it then a tongue
Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke,
I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,
It is the knell of my departed hours.
Where are they? with the years beyond the flood!
It is the signal that demands dispatch:
How much is to be done! My hopes and fears
Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge
Look down--on what? A fathomless abyss!
A dread eternity! How surely mine!
And can eternity belong to me,
Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august,
How complicate, how wonderful is man!
How passing wonder He who made him such!
Who center'd in our make such strange extremes--
From different natures, marvellously mix'd:
Connexion exquisite! of distant worlds
Distinguish'd link in being's endless chain!
Midway from nothing to the Deity;
A beam ethereal--sullied and absorpt!
Though sullied and dishonour'd, still divine!
Dim miniature of greatness absolute!
An heir of glory! a frail child of dust!
Helpless immortal! insect infinite!
A worm! a god! I tremble at myself,
And in myself am lost. At home a stranger.
Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast,
And wondering at her own. How reason reels!
Oh, what a miracle to man is man!
Triumphantly distress'd! what joy! what dread
Alternately transported and alarm'd!
What can preserve my life, or what destroy?
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave;
Legions of angels can't confine me there.
'Tis past conjecture; all things rise in proof.
While o'er my limbs sleep's soft dominion spread,
What though my soul fantastic measures trod
O'er fairy fields, or mourn'd along the gloom
Of pathless woods, or down the craggy steep
Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool,
Or scaled the cliff, or danced on hollow winds
With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain!
Her ceaseless flight, though devious, speaks her nature
Of subtler essence than the trodden clod:
Active, aerial, towering, unconfined,
Unfetter'd with her gross companion's fall.
Even silent night proclaims my soul immortal:
Even silent night proclaims eternal day!
For human weal Heaven husbands all events;
Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain.
YOUNG.
* * * * *
FAREWELL.
[Illustration: Letter N.]
Nay, shrink not from that word "Farewell!"
As if 'twere friendship's final knell--
Such fears may prove but vain:
So changeful is life's fleeting day,
Whene'er we sever, Hope may say,
We part to meet again!
E'en the last parting earth can know,
Brings not unutterable woe
To souls that heav'nward soar:
For humble Faith, with steadfast eye,
Points to a brighter world on high,
Where hearts, that here at parting sigh,
May meet--to part no more!
BARTON.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
VOCABULARY OF WORDS USED IN THE ILLUSTRATED LONDON READING BOOK.
* * * * *
[We have considered that it would be useful to the young reader to have
a ready means of reference, in the READING BOOK itself, to all unusual
words of one syllable, and all the words of two syllables and above,
that occur in the various lessons. In the following pages will be found,
properly accentuated, all the more difficult polysyllables, with their
meanings, derived from Johnson, Walker, and other competent
authorities.]
* * * * *
ABA'NDON, _v.a._ give up; resign, or quit; forsake; leave
ABI'LITY, _s._ capacity; qualification; power
A'BJECT, _a._ mean; being of no hope or regard; destitute
ABLU'TION, _s._ the act of cleansing or washing clean; water used in
washing
ABO'LISH, _v.a._ make void; put an end to; destroy
ABO'UND, _v.n._ have in great plenty; be in great plenty
ABRE'AST, _ad._ side by side
ABRU'PTLY, _ad._ hastily; suddenly; without the due forms of preparation
A'BSOLUTE, _a._ positive; certain; unlimited
A'BSTRACT, _s._ the smaller quantity containing the virtue or power of
the greater
ABSTRU'SE, _a._ hidden; difficult
ABU'NDANT, _a._ plentiful
ABU'TMENT, _s._ that which borders upon another
ACA'DEMY, _s._ (from _Academus_, an Athenian, who founded a public
school at Athens, which after him was called Academia, _Latin_),
place of education; an assembly or society of men, uniting for the
promotion of some art
A'CCENT, _s._ the sound of a syllable; a modification of the voice
expressive of the passions or sentiments; the marks made upon
syllables to regulate their pronunciation
A'CCIDENT, _s._ that which happens unforeseen; chance
ACCO'MPANY, _v.n._ associate with; become a companion to
ACCO'MPLICE, _s._ an associate; partner
ACCO'MPLISHMENT, _s._ ornament of mind or body; acquirement
ACCO'ST, _v.a._ speak to; address; salute
ACCO'UNT, _s._ the state or result of a computation--as, the _account_
stands thus between us; narrative; value
ACCO'UTRE, _v.a._ dress; equip
A'CCURACY, _s._ exactness; nicety
ACCU'STOM, _v._ to habituate; to inure
ACQUI'RE, _v.a._ gain; obtain; attain
A'CRID, _a._ having a hot biting taste; bitter
A'CRIMONY, _s._ sharpness; severity; bitterness of thought or language
ACRO'POLIS, _s._ a citadel; the highest part of a city
ACTI'VITY, _s._ quickness; nimbleness
ACU'TE, _a._ sharp, not blunt; sharp, not dull; not stupid; vigorous;
powerful in operation
ADAMA'NTINE, _a._ made of adamant; having the qualities of adamant, viz.
hardness, indissolubility
ADA'PT, _v.a._ admit, justify; yield; permit
ADIEU', _ad._ used elliptically for _à Dieu je vous commende_, at the
parting of friends; farewell
A'DMIRABLE, _a._ to be admired; of power to excite wonder
ADMIRA'TION, _s._ wonder
ADMI'T, _v.a._ suffer to enter; allow
ADO'PT, _v.a._ take a son by choice; make him a son who is not so by
birth; place any person or thing in a nearer relation than they have
by nature or something else
ADRO'ITNESS, _s._ dexterity; readiness
ADU'LT, _s._ a person above the age of boyhood or girlhood
ADVA'NCE, _v.a._ improve; forward; propose
ADVA'NTAGE, _s._ superiority; opportunity
ADVE'NTURE, _s._ chance; hazard; an enterprise in which something must
be left to hazard
ADVE'NTURER, _s._ he that puts himself into the hands of chance
ADVE'NTUROUS, _a._ bold; daring; courageous; inclined to adventures
ADVE'RSITY, _s._ affliction; calamity; misfortune; the public misery
ADVE'RTISEMENT, _s._ something advertised; the public notice of a thing
A'DVOCATE, _s._ he that pleads a cause
AE'OLIAN, _a._ an epithet applied to lyric poetry, because Sappho and
Alcaeus were natives of Lesbos in Aeolia, and wrote in the Aeolic
dialect
AE'RIAL, _a._ belonging to the air; lofty
AFFABI'LITY, _s._ civility; condescension; easiness of manners
AFFE'CT, _v.a._ act upon; produce effect in any other thing; move the
passions; aim at; aspire to
AFFECTA'TION, _s._ an elaborate appearance; false pretence
AFFE'CTION, _s._ state of being affected by any cause or agent; love;
kindness; good-will to some person; passionate regard
AFFE'CTIONATE, _a._ full of affection; fond; tender; warm; benevolent
AFFI'NITY, _s._ connection with
AGGRE'SSION, _s._ first act of injury
A'GONY, _s._ the pangs of death; any violent pain in body or mind
AGRE'EABLE, _a._ suitable to; pleasing
A'GRICULTURE, _s._ the science of making land productive
A'LABASTER, _s._ a kind of soft marble, easier to cut and less durable
than the other kinds
ALA'RUM, _s._ notice of any approaching danger; any tumult or
disturbance
A'LIEN, _s._ foreigner; stranger
A'LKALI, _s._ any substance which, when mingled with acid, produces
effervescence and fermentation
ALLEGO'RY, _s._ a figurative discourse, in which something is contained
other than is literally understood
ALLE'VIATE, _v.a._ make light; ease; soften
ALLO'W, _v.a._ permit; give leave
A'LPHABET, _s._ the order of the letters, or elements of speech
ALTERA'TION, _s._ the act of changing; the change made
A'LTITUDE, _s._ height of place; space measured upward
AL'TOGETHER, _ad._ completely; without exception
AMA'LGAMATE, _v.a._ to unite metals with silver
AMA'ZEMENT, _s._ height of admiration; astonishment
AMBI'GUOUS, _a._ using doubtful expressions; doubtful; having two
meanings
AMBI'TION, _s._ the desire of preferment or honour; the desire of
anything great or excellent
AMBI'TIOUS, _a._ fond of power; desirous of power
AME'RICAN, _s._ native of America
A'METHYST, _s._ a precious stone of a violet colour
A'MIABLE, _a._ kind; gentle; good natured; loving; not selfish
AMMUNI'TION, _s._ military stores, applied to artillery
AMPHITHE'ATRE, _s._ a building in a circular or oval form, having its
area encompassed with rows of seats one above another
AMPU'LLA, _s._ (pronounced _am-poo-la_) a vessel of pure gold, used for
containing the holy oil at coronations
AMU'SE, _v.a._ entertain with tranquillity; draw on from time to time
ANA'LOGY, _s._ resemblance between things with regard to some
circumstances or effects
ANATO'MICAL, _a._ relating or belonging to anatomy
ANA'TOMY, _s._ the art of dissecting the body; the doctrine of the
structure of the body
A'NCESTOR, _s._ one from whom a person descends
A'NCIENT, _a._ old; past; former
A'NECDOTE, _s._ something yet unpublished; biographical history;
personal history
ANEMO'METER, _s._ an instrument to measure the force of the wind
ANGE'LIC, _a._ resembling angels; belonging to angels
A'NIMAL, _s._ a living creature
ANIMA'LCULE, _s._ a small animal, generally applied to those which
cannot be seen without a microscope
ANIMO'SITY, _s._ vehemence of hatred; passionate malignity
ANNIHILATE, _v.a._ reduce to nothing; destroy
ANNO'Y, _v.a._ incommode; vex; tease; molest
A'NNUAL, _a._ that comes yearly
A'NTELOPE, _s._ a goat with curled or wreathed horns
ANTHROPO'PHAGI, _s._ man-eaters; cannibals
ANTI'CIPATE, _v.a._ take an impression of something which is not yet as
if it really was
A'NTIQUARY, _s._ a man studious of antiquity
ANTI'QUE, _a._ ancient; old; odd; of old fashion
ANTI'QUITY, _s._ old times; remains of old times
A'NTRE, _s._ a cavern
ANXI'ETY, _s._ perplexity; lowness of spirits
ANXIOUS, _a._ disturbed about some uncertain event
A'PATHY, _s._ exemption from feeling or passion
APO'CALYPSE, _s._ the Book of Revelations
APO'LOGY, _s._ defence; excuse
APO'STLE, _s._ a person sent with commands, particularly applied to
those whom our Saviour deputed to preach the Gospel
APOSTO'LIC, _a._ delivered or taught by the Apostles
APPARA'TUS, _s._ tools; furniture; show; instruments