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diff --git a/18702.txt b/18702.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..402d0ca --- /dev/null +++ b/18702.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10806 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Ontario Readers: Fourth Book, by Various + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Ontario Readers: Fourth Book + + +Author: Various + + + +Release Date: June 27, 2006 [eBook #18702] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ONTARIO READERS: FOURTH BOOK*** + + +E-text prepared by Suzanne Lybarger, Paul Ereaut, and the Project +Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/) from +page images generously made available by Internet Archive/Canadian +Libraries (http://www.archive.org/details/toronto) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 18702-h.htm or 18702-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/0/18702/18702-h/18702-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/0/18702/18702-h.zip) + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/OSIEontarioreadersfourth00miniuoft + + + + + +THE ONTARIO READERS + +FOURTH BOOK + +AUTHORIZED BY THE MINISTER OF EDUCATION + + + + + + + +Entered, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year 1909, +in the office of the Minister of Agriculture by the Minister of +Education for Ontario + +Toronto: +The T. EATON Co Limited +'14-1 + + + + +ACKNOWLEDGMENTS + + +The Minister of Education is indebted to Goldwin Smith, Rudyard Kipling, +Henry Newbolt, The Earl of Dunraven, Sir W. F. Butler, Frank T. Bullen, +Charles G. D. Roberts, W. Wilfred Campbell, Frederick George Scott, +Agnes Maule Machar, Agnes C. Laut, Marjorie L. C. Pickthall, and S. T. +Wood, for special permission to reproduce, in this Reader, selections +from their writings. + +He is indebted to Lord Tennyson for special permission to reproduce the +poems from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson; to Lloyd Osbourne for +permission to reproduce the extract from Robert Louis Stevenson's +"Kidnapped"; and to C. Egerton Ryerson for permission to reproduce the +extract from Egerton Ryerson's "The Loyalists of America and their +Times." + +He is also indebted to Macmillan & Co., Limited, for special permission +to reproduce selected poems from the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, +Rudyard Kipling, Sir F. H. Doyle, Cecil Frances Alexander; to Longmans, +Green & Co., for the selections from Froude's "Short Studies on Great +Subjects" and from his "History of England"; to Smith, Elder & Co., for +the extract from F. T. Bullen's "The Cruise of the Cachalot"; to Elkin +Mathews for Henry Newbolt's poem from "The Island Race"; to Thomas +Nelson & Sons for the extract from W. F. Collier's "History of the +British Empire"; to The Copp Clark Co., Limited, for selected poems from +the works of Charles G. D. Roberts, and of Agnes Maule Machar; to the +Hunter-Rose Company for the extract from Canniff Haight's "Country Life +in Canada"; to Morang & Company for selected poems from the works of +Archibald Lampman, and for the extract from Roberts' "History of +Canada"; and to Houghton Mifflin Company for the article from "_The +Atlantic Monthly_" on "British Colonial and Naval Power." + +The Minister is grateful to these authors and publishers and to others, +not mentioned here, through whose courtesy he has been able to include +in this Reader so many copyright selections. + +Toronto, May, 1909. + + + + + CONTENTS + + + _The Children's Song_ _Rudyard Kipling_ + _Our Country_ _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ + Tom Tulliver at School _George Eliot_ + _Ingratitude_ _William Shakespeare_ + _The Giant_ _Charles Mackay_ + The Discovery of America _William Robertson_ + _The First Spring Day_ _Christina G. Rossetti_ + The Battle of the Pipes _Robert Louis Stevenson_ + _Bega_ _Marjorie L. C. Pickthall_ + _A Musical Instrument_ _Elizabeth Barrett Browning_ + Wolfe and Montcalm _Francis Parkman_ + _Canada_ _Charles G. D. Roberts_ + Scrooge's Christmas _Charles Dickens_ + _Hands All Round_ _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ + Judah's Supplication to Joseph _Bible_ + _Miriam's Song_ _Thomas Moore_ + _The Destruction of Sennacherib_ _George Gordon, Lord Byron_ + The Lark at the Diggings _Charles Reade_ + _The Ancient Mariner_ _Samuel Taylor Coleridge_ + At the Close of the French Period + in Canada _Charles G. D. Roberts_ + _A Hymn of Empire_ _Frederick George Scott_ + Story of Absalom _Bible_ + _The Burial of Moses_ _Cecil Frances Alexander_ + The Crusader and the Saracen _Sir Walter Scott_ + _Mercy_ _William Shakespeare_ + _From "An August Reverie"_ _William Wilfred Campbell_ + Work and Wages _John Ruskin_ + _Untrodden Ways_ _Agnes Maule Machar_ + _The First Ploughing_ _Charles G. D. Roberts_ + The Archery Contest _Sir Walter Scott_ + _In November_ _Archibald Lampman_ + _Autumn Woods_ _William Cullen Bryant_ + In a Canoe _Lord Dunraven_ + _Afton Water_ _Robert Burns_ + David Copperfield's First + Journey Alone _Charles Dickens_ + _The Barefoot Boy_ _John G. Whittier_ + Country Life in Canada in + the "Thirties" _Canniff Haight_ + _Heat_ _Archibald Lampman_ + The Two Paths _Bible_ + _Bernardo del Carpio_ _Felicia Hemans_ + Moses' Bargains _Oliver Goldsmith_ + _The Maple_ _Charles G. D. Roberts_ + _The Greenwood Tree_ _William Shakespeare_ + Lake Superior _Major W. F. Butler_ + The Red River Plain _Major W. F. Butler_ + _The Unnamed Lake_ _Frederick George Scott_ + Life in Norman England _William F. Collier_ + _Ye Mariners of England_ _Thomas Campbell_ + Instruction _Bible_ + _Home Thoughts From Abroad_ _Robert Browning_ + _The Bells of Shandon_ _Francis Mahony_ + The Vision of Mirzah _Joseph Addison_ + _Forbearance_ _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ + _Mercy to Animals_ _William Cowper_ + The United Empire Loyalists _Egerton Ryerson_ + _Oft, in the Stilly Night_ _Thomas Moore_ + _The Harp That Once Through + Tara's Halls_ _Thomas Moore_ + Hudson Strait _Agnes C. Laut_ + _Scots, Wha Hae_ _Robert Burns_ + St. Ambrose Crew Win Their + First Race _Thomas Hughes_ + _Hunting Song_ _Sir Walter Scott_ + _Border Ballad_ _Sir Walter Scott_ + The Great Northern Diver _Samuel T. Wood_ + _To the Cuckoo_ _William Wordsworth_ + _On the Grasshopper and Cricket_ _John Keats_ + The Great Northwest _Major W. F. Butler_ + _Rule, Britannia_ _James Thomson_ + The Commandment and the Reward _Bible_ + _The Spacious Firmament_ _Joseph Addison_ + _June_ _James Russell Lowell_ + The Fifth Voyage of Sinbad the Sailor "_The Arabian Nights + Entertainments_" + _Ocean_ _George Gordon, Lord Byron_ + Pontiac's Attempt to Capture Fort + Detroit _Major Richardson_ + _My Native Land_ _Sir Walter Scott_ + _Morning on the Lievre_ _Archibald Lampman_ + _Evening_ _Archibald Lampman_ + An Elizabethan Seaman _James Anthony Froude_ + _The Sea-King's Burial_ _Charles Mackay_ + My Castles in Spain _George William Curtis_ + _Aladdin_ _James Russell Lowell_ + Drake's Voyage Round the World _James Anthony Froude_ + _The Solitary Reaper_ _William Wordsworth_ + Clouds, Rains, and Rivers _John Tyndall_ + _Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu_ _Sir Walter Scott_ + The Indignation of Nicholas Nickleby _Charles Dickens_ + _Dickens in Camp_ _Bret Harte_ + _Dost Thou Look Back on What + Hath Been_ _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ + The Passing of Arthur _Sir Thomas Malory_ + _The Armada_ _Thomas Babington, Lord Macaulay_ + Departure and Death of Nelson _Robert Southey_ + _Waterloo_ _George Gordon, Lord Byron_ + _Ode Written in 1746_ _William Collins_ + Balaklava _William Howard Russell_ + _Funeral of Wellington_ _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ + In a Cave with a Whale _Frank T. Bullen_ + _The Glove and the Lions_ _Leigh Hunt_ + Three Scenes in the Tyrol _Richter_ + _Marston Moor_ _William Mackworth Praed_ + London _Goldwin Smith_ + _How They Brought the Good News + from Ghent to Aix_ _Robert Browning_ + _An Incident of the French Camp_ _Robert Browning_ + British Colonial and Naval Power "_Atlantic Monthly_" + _England, My England_ _William Ernest Henley_ + _A Good Time Going_ _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ + God is Our Refuge _Bible_ + _Indian Summer_ _Susanna Moodie_ + _The Skylark_ _James Hogg_ + What is War _John Bright_ + _The Homes of England_ _Felicia Hemans_ + _To a Water-Fowl_ _William Cullen Bryant_ + The Fascination of Light _Samuel T. Wood_ + _Daffodils_ _William Wordsworth_ + _To the Dandelion_ _James Russell Lowell_ + True Greatness _George Eliot_ + _The Private of the Buffs_ _Sir Francis Hastings Doyle_ + Honourable Toil _Thomas Carlyle_ + _On his Blindness_ _John Milton_ + _Mysterious Night_ _Joseph Blanco White_ + _Vitai Lampada_ _Henry Newbolt_ + The Irreparable Past _Frederick W. Robertson_ + _A Christmas Hymn, 1837_ _Alfred Domett_ + _The Quarrel_ _William Shakespeare_ + _Recessional_ _Rudyard Kipling_ + + + + +The Good Land + + +For the Lord thy God bringeth thee into a good land, a land of brooks of +water, of fountains and depths, springing forth in valleys and hills; a +land of wheat and barley, and vines and fig trees and pomegranates; a +land of oil olives and honey; a land wherein thou shalt eat bread +without scarceness, thou shalt not lack anything in it; a land whose +stones are iron, and out of whose hills thou mayest dig brass. + +And thou shalt eat and be full, and thou shalt bless the Lord thy God +for the good land which He hath given thee. + +Deuteronomy. VIII. + + + + +FOURTH READER + + + + +THE CHILDREN'S SONG + + + Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee + Our love and toil in the years to be, + When we are grown and take our place, + As men and women with our race. + + Father in Heaven who lovest all, + Oh help Thy children when they call; + That they may build from age to age, + An undefiled heritage. + + Teach us to bear the yoke in youth + With steadfastness and careful truth; + That, in our time, Thy Grace may give + The Truth whereby the Nations live. + + Teach us to rule ourselves alway, + Controlled and cleanly night and day, + That we may bring, if need arise, + No maimed or worthless sacrifice. + + Teach us to look in all our ends, + On Thee for judge, and not our friends; + That we, with Thee, may walk uncowed + By fear or favour of the crowd. + + Teach us the Strength that cannot seek, + By deed or thought, to hurt the weak; + That, under Thee, we may possess + Man's strength to comfort man's distress. + + Teach us Delight in simple things, + And Mirth that has no bitter springs, + Forgiveness free of evil done, + And Love to all men 'neath the sun! + + Land of our Birth, our faith, our pride, + For whose dear sake our fathers died, + Oh Motherland, we pledge to thee, + Head, heart, and hand through years to be! + +Kipling + + + + +OUR COUNTRY + + + Love thou thy land, with love far-brought + From out the storied Past, and used + Within the Present, but transfused + Thro' future time by power of thought. + +Tennyson + + + + +TOM TULLIVER AT SCHOOL + + +It was Mr. Tulliver's first visit to see Tom, for the lad must learn not +to think too much about home. + +"Well, my lad," he said to Tom, when Mr. Stelling had left the room to +announce the arrival to his wife, and Maggie had begun to kiss Tom +freely, "you look rarely. School agrees with you." + +Tom wished he had looked rather ill. + +"I don't think I _am_ well, father," said Tom; "I wish you'd ask Mr. +Stelling not to let me do Euclid--it brings on the toothache, I think." + +(The toothache was the only malady to which Tom had ever been subject.) + +"Euclid, my lad; why, what's that?" said Mr. Tulliver. + +"Oh, I don't know. It's definitions, and axioms, and triangles, and +things. It's a book I've got to learn in; there's no sense in it." + +"Go, go!" said Mr. Tulliver, reprovingly, "you mustn't say so. You must +learn what your master tells you. He knows what it's right for you to +learn." + +"_I'll_ help you now, Tom," said Maggie, with a little air of +patronizing consolation. "I'm come to stay ever so long, if Mrs. +Stelling asks me. I've brought my box and my pinafores, haven't I, +father?" + +"_You_ help me, you silly little thing!" said Tom, in such high spirits +at this announcement that he quite enjoyed the idea of confounding +Maggie by showing her a page of Euclid. "I should like to see you doing +one of _my_ lessons! Why, I learn Latin too! Girls never learn such +things. They're too silly." + +"I know what Latin is very well," said Maggie, confidently. "Latin's a +language. There are Latin words in the Dictionary. There's 'bonus, a +gift.'" + +"Now, you're just wrong there, Miss Maggie!" said Tom, secretly +astonished. "You think you're very wise. But 'bonus' means 'good,' as it +happens--'bonus, bona, bonum.'" + +"Well, that's no reason why it shouldn't mean 'gift,'" said Maggie, +stoutly. "It may mean several things--almost every word does. +There's 'lawn'--it means the grass-plot, as well as the stuff +pocket-handkerchiefs are made of." + +"Well done, little 'un," said Mr. Tulliver, laughing, while Tom felt +rather disgusted with Maggie's knowingness, though beyond measure +cheerful at the thought that she was going to stay with him. Her conceit +would soon be overawed by the actual inspection of his books. + +Mrs. Stelling, in her pressing invitation, did not mention a longer time +than a week for Maggie's stay; but Mr. Stelling, who took her between +his knees, and asked her where she stole her dark eyes from, insisted +that she must stay a fortnight. Maggie thought Mr. Stelling was a +charming man, and Mr. Tulliver was quite proud to leave his little wench +where she would have an opportunity of showing her cleverness to +appreciating strangers. So it was agreed that she should not be fetched +home till the end of the fortnight. + +"Now, then, come with me into the study, Maggie," said Tom, as their +father drove away. "What do you shake and toss your head now for, you +silly?" he continued; for, though her hair was now under a new +dispensation, and was brushed smoothly behind her ears, she seemed still +in imagination to be tossing it out of her eyes. "It makes you look as +if you were crazy." + +"Oh, I can't help it," said Maggie, impatiently. "Don't tease me, Tom. +Oh, what books!" she exclaimed, as she saw the book-cases in the study. +"How I should like to have as many books as that!" + +"Why, you couldn't read one of 'em," said Tom, triumphantly. "They're +all Latin." + +"No, they aren't," said Maggie. "I can read the back of this ... +'History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.'" + +"Well, what does that mean? _You_ don't know," said Tom, wagging his +head. + +"But I could soon find out," said Maggie, scornfully. + +"Why, how?" + +"I should look inside, and see what it was about." + +"You'd better not, Miss Maggie," said Tom, seeing her hand on the +volume. "Mr. Stelling lets nobody touch his books without leave, and I +shall catch it if you take it out." + +"Oh, very well! Let me see all _your_ books, then," said Maggie, turning +to throw her arms round Tom's neck, and rub his cheek with her small, +round nose. + +Tom, in the gladness of his heart at having dear old Maggie to dispute +with and crow over again, seized her round the waist, and began to jump +with her round the large library table. Away they jumped with more and +more vigour, till Maggie's hair flew from behind her ears, and twirled +about like an animated mop. But the revolutions round the table became +more and more irregular in their sweep, till at last reaching Mr. +Stelling's reading-stand, they sent it thundering down with its heavy +lexicons to the floor. Happily it was the ground-floor, and the study +was a one-storied wing to the house, so that the downfall made no +alarming resonance, though Tom stood dizzy and aghast for a few minutes, +dreading the appearance of Mr. or Mrs. Stelling. + +"Oh, I say, Maggie," said Tom at last, lifting up the stand, "we must +keep quiet here, you know. If we break anything, Mrs. Stelling'll make +us cry peccavi." + +"What's that?" said Maggie. + +"Oh, it's the Latin for a good scolding," said Tom, not without some +pride in his knowledge. + +"Is she a cross woman?" said Maggie. + +"I believe you!" said Tom, with an emphatic nod. + +"I think all women are crosser than men," said Maggie. "Aunt Glegg's a +great deal crosser than Uncle Glegg, and mother scolds me more than +father does." + +"Well, _you'll_ be a woman some day," said Tom, "so _you_ needn't +talk." + +"But I shall be a _clever_ woman," said Maggie, with a toss. + +"Oh, I daresay, and a nasty, conceited thing. Everybody'll hate you." + +"But you oughtn't to hate me, Tom. It'll be very wicked of you, for I +shall be your sister." + +"Yes, but if you're a nasty, disagreeable thing, I _shall_ hate you." + +"Oh but, Tom, you won't! I shan't be disagreeable. I shall be very good +to you, and I shall be good to everybody. You won't hate me really, will +you, Tom?" + +"Oh, bother, never mind! Come, it's time for me to learn my lessons. See +here, what I've got to do," said Tom, drawing Maggie towards him and +showing her his theorem, while she pushed her hair behind her ears, and +prepared herself to prove her capability of helping him in Euclid. She +began to read with full confidence in her own powers; but presently, +becoming quite bewildered, her face flushed with irritation. It was +unavoidable: she must confess her incompetency, and she was not fond of +humiliation. + +"It's nonsense!" she said, "and very ugly stuff; nobody need want to +make it out." + +"Ah, there now, Miss Maggie!" said Tom, drawing the book away and +wagging his head at her; "you see you're not so clever as you thought +you were." + +"Oh," said Maggie, pouting, "I daresay I could make it out if I'd +learned what goes before, as you have." + +"But that's what you just couldn't, Miss Wisdom," said Tom. "For it's +all the harder when you know what goes before; for then you've got to +say what definition 3 is, and what axiom V is. But get along with you +now; I must go on with this. Here's the Latin Grammar. See what you can +make of that." + +Maggie found the Latin Grammar quite soothing after her mathematical +mortification, for she delighted in new words, and quickly found that +there was an English Key at the end, which would make her very wise +about Latin, at slight expense. It was really very interesting--the +Latin Grammar that Tom had said no girls could learn, and she was proud +because she found it interesting. + +"Now, then, Magsie, give us the Grammar!" + +"Oh, Tom, it's such a pretty book!" she said, as she jumped out of the +large arm-chair to give it him; "it's much prettier than the Dictionary. +I could learn Latin very soon. I don't think it's at all hard." + +"Oh, I know what you've been doing," said Tom; "you've been reading the +English at the end. Any donkey can do that." + +Tom seized the book and opened it with a determined and business-like +air, as much as to say that he had a lesson to learn which no donkeys +would find themselves equal to. Maggie, rather piqued, turned to the +book-cases to amuse herself with puzzling out the titles. + +George Eliot: "The Mill on the Floss." + + + + +INGRATITUDE + + + Blow, blow, thou winter wind, + Thou art not so unkind + As man's ingratitude; + Thy tooth is not so keen + Because thou art not seen, + Although thy breath be rude. + + Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, + Thou dost not bite so nigh + As benefits forgot; + Though thou the waters warp, + Thy sting is not so sharp + As friend remembered not. + +Shakespeare + + +[Illustration: H. M. KING EDWARD VII.] + + + + +THE GIANT + + + There came a Giant to my door, + A Giant fierce and strong; + His step was heavy on the floor, + His arms were ten yards long. + He scowled and frowned; he shook the ground; + I trembled through and through; + At length I looked him in the face + And cried, "Who cares for you?" + + The mighty Giant, as I spoke, + Grew pale, and thin, and small, + And through his body, as 'twere smoke, + I saw the sunshine fall. + His blood-red eyes turned blue as skies:-- + "Is this," I cried, with growing pride, + "Is this the mighty foe?" + + He sank before my earnest face, + He vanished quite away, + And left no shadow in his place + Between me and the day. + Such giants come to strike us dumb, + But, weak in every part, + They melt before the strong man's eyes, + And fly the true of heart. + +Charles Mackay + + + + +THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA + + +Next morning, being Friday the third day of August, in the year 1492, +Columbus set sail, a little before sunrise, in presence of a vast crowd +of spectators, who sent up their supplications to Heaven for the +prosperous issue of the voyage, which they wished rather than expected. +Columbus steered directly for the Canary Islands, and arrived there +without any occurrence that would have deserved notice on any other +occasion. But, in a voyage of such expectation and importance, every +circumstance was the object of attention. + +As they proceeded, the indications of approaching land seemed to be more +certain, and excited hope in proportion. The birds began to appear in +flocks, making towards the south-west. Columbus, in imitation of the +Portuguese navigators, who had been guided in several of their +discoveries by the motion of birds, altered his course from due west +towards that quarter whither they pointed their flight. But, after +holding on for several days in this new direction, without any better +success than formerly, having seen no object during thirty days but the +sea and the sky, the hopes of his companions subsided faster than they +had risen; their fears revived with additional force; impatience, rage, +and despair appeared in every countenance. All sense of subordination +was lost. The officers, who had hitherto concurred with Columbus in +opinion, and supported his authority, now took part with the private +men; they assembled tumultuously on the deck, expostulated with their +commander, mingled threats with their expostulations, and required him +instantly to tack about and return to Europe. Columbus perceived that it +would be of no avail to have recourse to any of his former arts, which, +having been tried so often, had lost their effect; and that it was +impossible to rekindle any zeal for the success of the expedition among +men in whose breasts fear had extinguished every generous sentiment. He +saw that it was no less vain to think of employing either gentle or +severe measures to quell a mutiny so general and so violent. It was +necessary, on all these accounts, to soothe passions which he could no +longer command, and to give way to a torrent too impetuous to be +checked. He promised solemnly to his men that he would comply with +their request, provided they would accompany him and obey his command +for three days longer, and if, during that time, land were not +discovered, he would then abandon the enterprise, and direct his course +towards Spain. + +Enraged as the sailors were, and impatient to turn their faces again +towards their native country, this proposition did not appear to them +unreasonable; nor did Columbus hazard much in confining himself to a +term so short. The presages of discovering land were now so numerous and +promising that he deemed them infallible. For some days the +sounding-line reached the bottom, and the soil which it brought up +indicated land to be at no great distance. The flocks of birds +increased, and were composed not only of sea-fowl, but of such +land-birds as could not be supposed to fly far from the shore. The crew +of the Pinta observed a cane floating, which seemed to have been newly +cut, and likewise a piece of timber artificially carved. The sailors +aboard the Nigna took up the branch of a tree with red berries perfectly +fresh. The clouds around the setting sun assumed a new appearance; the +air was more mild and warm, and during night the wind became unequal +and variable. From all these symptoms, Columbus was so confident of +being near land, that on the evening of the eleventh of October, after +public prayers for success, he ordered the sails to be furled, and the +ships to lie to, keeping strict watch lest they should be driven ashore +in the night. During this interval of suspense and expectation, no man +shut his eyes, all kept upon deck, gazing towards that quarter where +they expected to discover the land, which had so long been the object of +their wishes. + +About two hours before midnight, Columbus, standing on the forecastle, +observed a light in the distance, and privately pointed it out to Pedro +Guttierez, a page of the Queen's wardrobe. Guttierez perceived it, and +calling to Salcedo, comptroller of the fleet, all three saw it in +motion, as if it were carried from place to place. A little after +midnight, the joyful sound of "Land! Land!" was heard from the Pinta, +which kept always ahead of the other ships. But, having been so often +deceived by fallacious appearances, every man was now become slow of +belief, and waited in all the anguish of uncertainty and impatience for +the return of day. As soon as morning dawned, all doubts and fears were +dispelled. From every ship an island was seen about two leagues to the +north, whose flat and verdant fields, well stored with wood, and watered +with many rivulets, presented the aspect of a delightful country. + +The crew of the Pinta instantly began the _Te Deum_, as a hymn of +thanksgiving to God, and were joined by those of the other ships with +tears of joy and transports of congratulation. This office of gratitude +to Heaven was followed by an act of justice to their commander. They +threw themselves at the feet of Columbus, with feelings of +self-condemnation, mingled with reverence. They implored him to pardon +their ignorance, incredulity, and insolence, which had created him so +much unnecessary disquiet, and had so often obstructed the prosecution +of his well-concerted plan; and passing, in the warmth of their +admiration, from one extreme to the other, they now pronounced the man +whom they had so lately reviled and threatened, to be a person inspired +by Heaven with sagacity and fortitude more than human, in order to +accomplish a design so far beyond the ideas and conceptions of all +former ages. + +William Robertson: "The History of America." + + + + +THE FIRST SPRING DAY + + + I wonder if the sap is stirring yet, + If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate, + If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun, + And crocus fires are kindled one by one: + Sing, robin, sing! + I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring. + + I wonder if the spring-tide of this year + Will bring another spring both lost and dear; + If heart and spirit will find out their spring, + Or if the world alone will bud and sing: + Sing, hope, to me! + Sweet notes, my hope, sweet notes for memory. + + The sap will surely quicken soon or late, + The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate; + So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom, + Or in this world, or in the world to come: + Sing, voice of Spring! + Till I, too, blossom and rejoice and sing. + +Christina Rossetti + + + + +Be that which you would make others. + +Amiel + + + + +THE BATTLE OF THE PIPES + + +A thing happened worth narrating at the close of a visit paid me by +Robin Oig, one of the sons of the notorious Rob Roy. As he was leaving, +just in the door, he met Alan coming in; and the two drew back and +looked at each other like strange dogs. They were neither of them big +men, but they seemed fairly to swell out with pride. Each wore a sword, +and by a movement of his haunch, thrust clear the hilt of it, so that it +might be the more readily grasped and the blade drawn. + +"Mr. Stewart, I am thinking," says Robin. + +"Troth, Mr. Macgregor, it's not a name to be ashamed of," answered Alan. + +"I did not know ye were in my country, sir," says Robin. + +"It sticks in my mind that I am in the country of my friends, the +Maclarens," says Alan. + +"That's a kittle point," returned the other. "There may be two words to +say to that. But I think I will have heard that you are a man of your +sword?" + +"Unless ye were born deaf, Mr. Macgregor, ye will have heard a good +deal more than that," says Alan. "I am not the only man who can draw +steel in Appin; and when my kinsman and captain, Ardshiel, had a talk +with a gentleman of your name, not so many years back, I could never +hear that the Macgregor had the best of it." + +"Do you mean my father, sir?" says Robin. + +"Well, I wouldnae wonder," says Alan. "The gentleman I have in my mind +had the ill-taste to clap Campbell to his name." + +"My father was an old man," returned Robin. "The match was unequal. You +and me would make a better pair, sir." + +"I was thinking that," said Alan. + +I was half out of bed, and Duncan had been hanging at the elbow of these +fighting cocks, ready to intervene upon the least occasion. But when +that word was uttered, it was a case of now or never; and Duncan, with +something of a white face to be sure, thrust himself between. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "I will have been thinking of a very different +matter. Here are my pipes, and here are you two gentlemen who are baith +acclaimed pipers. It's an auld dispute which one of ye's the best. Here +will be a braw chance to settle it." + +"Why, sir," said Alan, still addressing Robin, from whom indeed he had +not so much as shifted his eyes, nor yet Robin from him, "why, sir," +says Alan, "I think I will have heard some sough of the sort. Have ye +music, as folk say? Are ye a bit of a piper?" + +"I can pipe like a Maccrimmon!" cries Robin. + +"And that is a very bold word," quoth Alan. + +"I have made bolder words good before now," returned Robin, "and that +against better adversaries." + +"It is easy to try that," says Alan. + +Duncan Dhu made haste to bring out the pair of pipes that was his +principal possession, and to set before his guests a muttonham and a +bottle of that drink which they call Athole brose. The two enemies were +still on the very breach of a quarrel; but down they sat, one upon each +side of the peat fire, with a mighty show of politeness. Maclaren +pressed them to taste his muttonham and "the wife's brose," reminding +them the wife was out of Athole and had a name far and wide for her +skill in that confection. But Robin put aside these hospitalities as bad +for the breath. + +"I would have ye to remark, sir," said Alan, "that I havenae broken +bread for near upon ten hours, which will be worse for the breath than +any brose in Scotland." + +"I will take no advantages, Mr. Stewart," replied Robin. "Eat and drink; +I'll follow." + +Each ate a small portion of the ham and drank a glass of the brose to +Mrs. Maclaren; and then, after a great number of civilities, Robin took +the pipes and played a little spring in a very ranting manner. + +"Ay, ye can blow," said Alan; and, taking the instrument from his rival, +he first played the same spring in a manner identical with Robin's; and +then wandered into variations, which, as he went on, he decorated with a +perfect flight of grace-notes, such as pipers love, and call the +"warblers." + +I had been pleased with Robin's playing, Alan's ravished me. + +"That's no very bad, Mr. Stewart," said the rival, "but ye show a poor +device in your warbler." + +"Me!" cried Alan, the blood starting to his face. "I give ye the lie." + +"Do ye own yourself beaten at the pipes, then," said Robin, "that ye +seek to change them for the sword?" + +"And that's very well said, Mr. Macgregor," returned Alan; "and in the +meantime" (laying a strong accent on the word) "I take back the lie. I +appeal to Duncan." + +"Indeed, ye need appeal to naebody," said Robin. "Ye're a far better +judge than any Maclaren in Balwhidder: for it's a God's truth that +you're a very creditable piper for a Stewart. Hand me the pipes." + +Alan did as he asked; and Robin proceeded to imitate and correct some +part of Alan's variations, which it seemed that he remembered perfectly. + +"Ay, ye have music," said Alan, gloomily. + +"And now be the judge yourself, Mr. Stewart," said Robin; and taking up +the variations from the beginning, he worked them throughout to so new a +purpose, with such ingenuity and sentiment, and with so odd a fancy and +so quick a knack in the grace-notes, that I was amazed to hear him. + +As for Alan his face grew dark and hot, and he sat and gnawed his +fingers, like a man under some deep affront. "Enough!" he cried. "Ye can +blow the pipes--make the most of that." And he made as if to rise. + +But Robin only held out his hand as if to ask for silence, and struck +into the slow music of a pibroch. It was a fine piece of music in +itself, and nobly played; but, it seems besides, it was a piece peculiar +to the Appin Stewarts and a chief favourite with Alan. The first notes +were scarce out, before there came a change in his face; when the time +quickened, he seemed to grow restless in his seat; and long before that +piece was at an end, the last signs of his anger died from him, and he +had no thought but for the music. + +"Robin Oig," he said, when it was done, "ye are a great piper. I am not +fit to blow in the same kingdom with ye. Body of me! ye have more music +in your sporran than I have in my head! And, though it still sticks in +my mind that I could show ye another of it with the cold steel, I warn +ye beforehand--it'll no be fair! It would go against my heart to haggle +a man that can blow the pipes as you can!" + +Thereupon the quarrel was made up. All night long the pipes were +changing hands, and the day had come pretty bright before Robin as much +as thought upon the road. + +Robert Louis Stevenson: "Kidnapped." + + + + +BEGA + + + From the clouded belfry calling + Hear my soft ascending swells, + Hear my notes like swallows falling: + I am Bega, least of bells. + When great Turkeful rolls and rings + All the storm-touched turret swings, + Echoing battle, loud and long. + When great Tatwin wakening roars + To the far-off shining shores, + All the seamen know his song. + I am Bega, least of bells; + In my throat my message swells. + I, with all the winds athrill, + Murmuring softly, murmuring still, + "God around me, God above me, + God to guard me, God to love me." + + I am Bega, least of bells; + Weaving wonder, wind-born spells. + High above the morning mist, + Wreathed in rose and amethyst, + Still the dreams of music float + Silver from my silver throat, + Whispering beauty, whispering peace. + When great Tatwin's golden voice + Bids the listening land rejoice, + When great Turkeful rings and rolls + Thunder down to trembling souls, + Then my notes, like curlews flying, + Sinking, falling, lifting, sighing, + Softly answer, softly cease. + I, with all the airs at play, + Murmuring softly, murmuring say, + "God around me, God above me, + God to guard me, God to love me." + +Marjorie L. C. Pickthall + + + + +Love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous: not rendering evil for evil +or railing for railing: but contrariwise blessing. + +For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his +tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile: + +Let him eschew evil, and do good; let him seek peace and ensue it. + +For the eyes of the Lord are over the righteous, and His ears are open +unto their prayers: but the face of the Lord is against them that do +evil. + +And who is he that will harm you, if ye be followers of that which is +good? + +I. Peter, III. + + + + +A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT + + + What was he doing, the great god Pan, + Down in the reeds by the river? + Spreading ruin and scattering ban, + Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, + And breaking the golden lilies afloat + With the dragon-fly on the river. + + He tore out a reed, the great god Pan + From the deep, cool bed of the river: + The limpid water turbidly ran, + And the broken lilies a-dying lay, + And the dragon-fly had fled away, + Ere he brought it out of the river. + + High on the shore sat the great god Pan, + While turbidly flow'd the river; + And hack'd and hew'd as a great god can, + With his hard, bleak steel at the patient reed, + Till there was not a sign of a leaf, indeed, + To prove it fresh from the river. + + He cut it short, did the great god Pan, + (How tall it stood in the river!) + Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man, + Steadily from the outside ring, + And notch'd the poor, dry, empty thing + In holes, as he sat by the river. + + "This is the way," laugh'd the great god Pan, + (Laugh'd while he sat by the river) + "The only way, since gods began + To make sweet music, they could succeed." + Then, dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, + He blew in power by the river. + + Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan! + Piercing sweet by the river! + Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! + The sun on the hill forgot to die, + And the lilies reviv'd, and the dragon-fly + Came back to dream on the river. + + Yet, half a beast is the great god Pan, + To laugh as he sits by the river, + Making a poet out of a man: + The true gods sigh for the cost and pain,-- + For the reed which grows nevermore again + As a reed with the reeds in the river. + +Elizabeth Barrett Browning + + + + + If little labour, little are our gains; + Man's fortunes are according to his pains. + +Herrick + + + + +WOLFE AND MONTCALM + + +The eventful night of the twelfth was clear and calm, with no light but +that of the stars. Within two hours before daybreak thirty boats, +crowded with sixteen hundred soldiers, cast off from the vessels and +floated downward in perfect order with the current of the ebb-tide. To +the boundless joy of the army, Wolfe's malady had abated, and he was +able to command in person. His ruined health, the gloomy prospect of the +siege, and the disaster at Montmorenci, had oppressed him with the +deepest melancholy, but never impaired for a moment the promptness of +his decisions, or the impetuous energy of his action. + +He sat in the stern of one of the boats, pale and weak, but borne up to +a calm height of resolution. Every order had been given, every +arrangement made, and it only remained to face the issue. The ebbing +tide sufficed to bear the boats along, and nothing broke the silence of +the night but the gurgling of the river, and the low voice of Wolfe, as +he repeated to the officers about him the stanzas of Gray's "Elegy in a +Country Churchyard," which had recently appeared, and which he had just +received from England. Perhaps as he uttered those strangely +appropriate words:-- + +"The paths of glory lead but to the grave," the shadows of his own +approaching fate stole with mournful prophecy across his mind. +"Gentlemen," he said, as he closed his recital, "I would rather have +written those lines than take Quebec to-morrow." + +As they approached the landing-place, the boats edged closer in towards +the northern shore, and the woody precipices rose high on their left +like a wall of undistinguished blackness. + +"_Qui vive?_" shouted a French sentinel from out the impervious gloom. + +"_La France!_" answered a captain of Fraser's Highlanders from the +foremost boat. + +As boats were frequently passing down the river with supplies for the +garrison, and as a convoy from Bougainville was expected that very +night, the sentinel was deceived and allowed the English to proceed. A +few moments later, they were challenged again, and this time they could +discern the soldier running close down to the water's edge, as if all +his suspicions were aroused; but the skilful replies of the Highlander +once more saved the party from discovery. + +They reached the landing-place in safety,--an indentation in the shore +about a league above the city and now bearing the name of Wolfe's Cove. +Here a narrow path led up the face of the heights, and a French guard +was posted at the top to defend the pass. By the force of the current +the foremost boats, including that which carried Wolfe himself, were +borne a little below the spot. The general was one of the first on +shore. He looked upward at the rugged heights which towered above him in +the gloom. "You can try it," he coolly observed to an officer near him; +"but I don't think you'll get up." + +At the point where the Highlanders landed, one of their captains, Donald +Macdonald, apparently the same whose presence of mind had just saved the +enterprise from ruin, was climbing in advance of his men, when he was +challenged by a sentinel. He replied in French, by declaring that he had +been sent to relieve the guard, and ordering the soldier to withdraw. +Before the latter was undeceived, a crowd of Highlanders were close at +hand, while the steeps below were thronged with eager climbers, dragging +themselves up by trees, roots, and bushes. The guard turned out and made +a brief though brave resistance. In a moment they were cut to pieces, +dispersed, or made prisoners, while men after men came swarming up the +height and quickly formed upon the plains above. Meanwhile the vessels +had dropped downward with the current and anchored opposite the +landing-place. The remaining troops disembarked, and with the dawn of +day, the whole were brought in safety to the shore. + +The sun rose, and from the ramparts of Quebec the astonished people saw +the Plains of Abraham glittering with arms, and the dark-red lines of +the English forming in array of battle. Breathless messengers had borne +the evil tidings to Montcalm, and far and near his wide-extended camp +resounded with the rolling of alarm-drums and the din of startled +preparation. He, too, had had his struggles and his sorrows. The civil +power had thwarted him; famine, discontent, and disaffection were rife +among his soldiers; and no small portion of the Canadian militia had +dispersed from sheer starvation. In spite of all, he had trusted to hold +out till the winter frosts should drive the invaders from before the +town, when on that disastrous morning the news of their successful +temerity fell like a cannon-shot upon his ear. Still he assumed a tone +of confidence. "They have got to the weak side of us at last," he is +reported to have said, "and we must crush them with our numbers." With +headlong haste his troops were pouring over the bridge of St. Charles, +and gathering in heavy masses under the western ramparts of the town. +Could numbers give assurance of success, their triumph would have been +secure, for five French battalions and the armed colonial peasantry +amounted in all to more than seven thousand five hundred men. Full in +sight before stretched the long, thin lines of the British forces--the +Highlanders, the steady soldiery of England, and the hardy levies of the +provinces--less than five thousand in number, but all inured to battle, +and strong in the full assurance of success. + +It was nine o'clock, and the adverse armies stood motionless, each +gazing on the other. The clouds hung low, and at intervals warm light +showers descended besprinkling both alike. The coppice and corn-fields +in front of the British troops were filled with French sharp-shooters, +who kept up a distant spattering fire. Here and there a soldier fell in +the ranks, and the gap was filled in silence. + +At a little before ten the British could see that Montcalm was preparing +to advance, and in a few moments all his troops appeared in rapid +motion. They came on in three divisions, shouting after the manner of +their nation, and firing heavily as soon as they came within range. In +the British ranks not a trigger was pulled, not a soldier stirred, and +their ominous composure seemed to damp the spirits of the assailants. It +was not till the French were within forty yards that the fatal word was +given, and the British muskets blazed forth at once in one crashing +explosion. Like a ship at full career arrested with sudden ruin on a +sunken rock, the ranks of Montcalm staggered, shivered, and broke before +that wasting storm of lead. The smoke rolling along the field for a +moment shut out the view, but, when the white wreaths were scattered on +the wind, a wretched spectacle was disclosed: men and officers tumbled +in heaps, battalions resolved into a mob, order and obedience gone; and, +when the British muskets were levelled for a second volley, the masses +of the militia were seen to cower and shrink with uncontrollable panic. +For a few minutes the French regulars stood their ground, returning a +sharp and not ineffectual fire. But now, echoing cheer on cheer, +redoubling volley on volley, trampling the dying and the dead, and +driving the fugitives in crowds, the British troops advanced and swept +the field before them. The ardour of the men burst all restraint. They +broke into a run and with unsparing slaughter chased the flying +multitude to the gates of Quebec. Foremost of all, the light-footed +Highlanders dashed along in furious pursuit, hewing down the Frenchmen +with their broadswords and slaying many in the very ditch of the +fortifications. Never was victory more quick or more decisive. + +In the short action and pursuit the French lost fifteen hundred men, +killed, wounded, and taken. Of the remainder some escaped within the +city, and others fled across the St. Charles to rejoin their comrades +who had been left to guard the camp. The pursuers were recalled by sound +of trumpet, the broken ranks were formed afresh, and the English troops +withdrawn beyond reach of the cannon of Quebec. Townshend and Murray, +the only general officers who remained unhurt, passed to the head of +every regiment in turn and thanked the soldiers for the bravery they had +shown; yet the triumph of the victors was mingled with sadness as +tidings went from rank to rank that Wolfe had fallen. + +In the heat of the action, as he advanced at the head of the grenadiers +of Louisburg, a bullet shattered his wrist, but he wrapped his +handkerchief about the wound, and showed no sign of pain. A moment more +and a ball pierced his side. Still he pressed forward waving his sword +and cheering his soldiers to the attack, when a third shot lodged deep +within his breast. He paused, reeled, and staggering to one side, fell +to earth. Brown, a lieutenant of the grenadiers, Henderson, a volunteer, +an officer of artillery, and a private soldier, raised him together in +their arms, and bearing him to the rear laid him softly on the grass. +They asked if he would have a surgeon, but he shook his head and +answered that all was over with him. His eyes closed with the torpor of +approaching death, and those around sustained his fainting form. Yet +they could not withhold their gaze from the wild turmoil before them, +and the charging ranks of their companions rushing through fire and +smoke. "See how they run," one of the officers exclaimed, as the French +fell in confusion before the levelled bayonets. "Who run?" demanded +Wolfe, opening his eyes like a man aroused from sleep. "The enemy, sir," +was the reply; "they give way everywhere." "Then," said the dying +general, "tell Colonel Burton to march Webb's regiment down to Charles +River, to cut off their retreat from the bridge. Now, God be praised, I +shall die in peace," he murmured; and turning on his side he calmly +breathed his last. + +Almost at the same moment fell his great adversary, Montcalm, as he +strove with vain bravery to rally his shattered ranks. Struck down with +a mortal wound, he was placed upon a litter and borne to the General +Hospital on the banks of the St. Charles. The surgeons told him that he +could not recover. "I am glad of it," was his calm reply. He then asked +how long he might survive, and was told that he had not many hours +remaining. "So much the better," he said; "I am happy that I shall not +live to see the surrender of Quebec." Officers from the garrison came to +his bedside to ask his orders and instructions. "I will give no more +orders," replied the defeated soldier; "I have much business that must +be attended to, of greater moment than your ruined garrison and this +wretched country. My time is very short, therefore, pray leave me." + +The victorious army encamped before Quebec and pushed their +preparations for the siege with zealous energy, but, before a single gun +was brought to bear, the white flag was hung out, and the garrison +surrendered. On the eighteenth of September, 1759, the rock-built +citadel of Canada passed for ever from the hands of its ancient masters. + +Parkman: "The Conspiracy of Pontiac." + + + + +CANADA + + + Montcalm and Wolfe! Wolfe and Montcalm! + Quebec, thy storied citadel + Attests in burning song and psalm + How here thy heroes fell! + + O thou that bor'st the battle's brunt + At Queenston and at Lundy's Lane,-- + On whose scant ranks, but iron front + The battle broke in vain!-- + + Whose was the danger, whose the day, + From whose triumphant throats the cheers, + At Chrysler's Farm, at Chateauguay, + Storming like clarion-bursts our ears? + + On soft Pacific slopes,--beside + Strange floods that northward rave and fall,-- + Where chafes Acadia's chainless tide-- + Thy sons await thy call. + + They wait; but some in exile, some + With strangers housed, in stranger lands,-- + And some Canadian lips are dumb + Beneath Egyptian sands. + + O mystic Nile! Thy secret yields + Before us; thy most ancient dreams + Are mixed with far Canadian fields + And murmur of Canadian streams. + + But thou, my country, dream not thou! + Wake, and behold how night is done,-- + How on thy breast, and o'er thy brow, + Bursts the uprising sun! + +Charles G. D. Roberts + + + + +Love your country, believe in her, honour her, work for her, live for +her, die for her. Never has any people been endowed with a nobler +birthright or blessed with prospects of a fairer future. + +Lord Dufferin + + + + +SCROOGE'S CHRISTMAS + +(On Christmas Eve, Scrooge, "a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, +clutching, covetous old sinner," is visited by three ghosts in +succession--The Ghost of Christmas Past, the Ghost of Christmas Present, +and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come. The first recalled the +experiences of Scrooge's youth, the second showed him Christmas as it +might be spent and incidentally, too, what some people thought of him. +The third showed him the "shadows of the things that have not happened, +but will happen in the time before us." He saw himself dead, uncared +for, unwept, unwatched, his effects plundered by the charwoman, +laundress, and undertaker's man and realized the end to which he must +come unless he led an altered life. Holding up his hands he prayed to +have his fate reversed and saw the Ghost shrink and dwindle down into a +bedpost.) + + +Yes! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the room was his +own. Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own to make +amends in. + +"I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future!" Scrooge +repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of all Three shall +strive within me. O Jacob Marley! Heaven and the Christmas Time be +praised for this! I say it on my knees, old Jacob; on my knees!" + +He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions, that his +broken voice could scarcely answer to his call. He had been sobbing +violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face was wet with +tears. + +"They are not torn down," cried Scrooge, folding one of his bed +curtains in his arms,--"they are not torn down, rings and all. They are +here,--I am here,--the shadows of the things that would have been may be +dispelled. They will be. I know they will!" + +His hands were busy with his garments all this time; turning them inside +out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mislaying them, making +them parties to every kind of extravagance. + +"I don't know what to do!" cried Scrooge, laughing and crying in the +same breath; and making a perfect Laocoon of himself with his stockings. +"I am as light as a feather, I am as happy as an angel, I am as merry as +a school-boy. I am as giddy as a drunken man. A Merry Christmas to +everybody! A Happy New Year to all the world! Hallo here! Whoop! Hallo!" + +He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing there, +perfectly winded. + +"There's the sauce-pan that the gruel was in!" cried Scrooge, starting +off again, and going round the fireplace. "There's the door by which the +Ghost of Jacob Marley entered! There's the corner where the Ghost of +Christmas Present sat! There's the window where I saw the wandering +Spirits! It's all right, it's all true, it all happened. Ha, ha, ha!" + +Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many years, it was +a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The father of a long, long +line of brilliant laughs! + +"I don't know what day of the month it is," said Scrooge. "I don't know +how long I have been amongst the Spirits. I don't know anything. I'm +quite a baby. Never mind. I don't care. I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! +Whoop! Hallo here!" + +He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out the +lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clang, clash, hammer; ding, dong, +bell. Bell, dong, ding; hammer, clang, clash! O, glorious, glorious! + +Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. No fog, no +mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring cold; cold, piping for the blood +to dance to; golden sunlight; heavenly sky; sweet fresh air; merry +bells. O, glorious, glorious! + +"What's to-day?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy in Sunday +clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him. + +"Eh?" returned the boy, with all his might of wonder. + +"What's to-day, my fine fellow?" said Scrooge. + +"To-day!" replied the boy. "Why, CHRISTMAS DAY." + +"It's Christmas Day!" said Scrooge to himself. "I haven't missed it. The +Spirits have done it all in one night. They can do anything they like. +Of course they can. Of course they can. Hallo, my fine fellow?" + +"Hallo!" returned the boy. + +"Do you know the Poulterer's, in the next street but one, at the +corner?" Scrooge inquired. + +"I should hope I did," replied the lad. + +"An intelligent boy!" said Scrooge. "A remarkable boy! Do you know +whether they've sold the prize turkey that was hanging up there?--Not +the little prize turkey, the big one?" + +"What, the one as big as me?" said the boy. + +"What a delightful boy!" said Scrooge. "It's a pleasure to talk to him. +Yes, my buck!" + +"It's hanging there now," replied the boy. + +"Is it?" said Scrooge. "Go and buy it." + +"WALK-ER!" exclaimed the boy. + +"No, no," said Scrooge, "I am in earnest. Go and buy it and tell 'em to +bring it here, that I may give them the direction where to take it. Come +back with the man, and I'll give you a shilling. Come back with him in +less than five minutes, and I'll give you half-a-crown!" + +The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand at the +trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast. + +"I'll send it to Bob Cratchit's," whispered Scrooge, rubbing his hands, +and splitting with a laugh. "He shan't know who sends it. It's twice the +size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller never made such a joke as sending it to +Bob's will be!" + +The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, but write +he did, somehow, and went down-stairs to open the street door, ready for +the coming of the Poulterer's man. As he stood there, waiting his +arrival, the knocker caught his eye. + +"I shall love it as long as I live!" cried Scrooge, patting it with his +hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an honest expression it +has in its face! It's a wonderful knocker!--Here's the turkey. Hallo! +Whoop! How are you? Merry Christmas!" + +It _was_ a turkey! He could never have stood upon his legs, that bird. +He would have snapped 'em off short in a minute, like sticks of +sealing-wax. + +"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town," said Scrooge. "You +must have a cab." + +The chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with which he paid +for the turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid for the cab, and the +chuckle with which he recompensed the boy, were only exceeded by the +chuckle with which he sat down breathlessly in his chair again, and +chuckled till he cried. + +Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake very much; +and shaving requires attention, even when you don't dance while you are +at it. But, if he had cut the end of his nose off, he would have put a +piece of sticking-plaster over it, and been quite satisfied. + +He dressed himself "all in his best," and at last got out into the +streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he had seen them +with the Ghost of Christmas Present; and, walking with his hands behind +him, Scrooge regarded everyone with a delighted smile. He looked so +irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured +fellows said: "Good-morning, sir! A Merry Christmas to you!" And Scrooge +said often afterwards, that, of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard, +those were the blithest in his ears.... + +He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people +hurrying to and fro, and patted the children on the head, and questioned +beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses and up to the +windows, and found that every thing could yield him pleasure. He had +never dreamed that any walk--that anything--could give him so much +happiness. In the afternoon, he turned his steps towards his nephew's +house. + +He passed the door a dozen times before he had the courage to go up and +knock. But he made a dash and did it. + +"Is your master at home, my dear?" said Scrooge to the girl. "Nice girl! +Very." + +"Yes, sir." + +"Where is he, my love?" said Scrooge. + +"He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. I'll show you +upstairs, if you please." + +"Thank'ee. He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand already on the +dining-room lock. "I'll go in here, my dear." + +He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were +looking at the table (which was spread out in great array); for these +young housekeepers are always nervous on such points, and like to see +that everything is right. + +"Fred!" said Scrooge. Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage +started!... + +"Why, bless my soul!" cried Fred, "Who's that?" + +"It's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in, +Fred?" + +Let him in! It is a mercy he didn't shake his arm off. He was at home in +five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. +So did Topper when _he_ came. So did the plump sister when _she_ came. +So did everybody when _they_ came. Wonderful party, wonderful games, +wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness! + +But he was early at the office next morning. Oh, he was early there. If +he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! That +was the first thing he had set his heart upon. + +And he did it; yes, he did! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter +past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. +Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the +Tank. + +His hat was off, before he opened the door, his comforter, too. He was +on his stool in a jiffy, driving away with his pen, as if he were trying +to overtake nine o'clock. + +"Hallo!" growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice, as near as he could +feign it. "What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?" + +"I am very sorry, sir," said Bob. "I _am_ behind my time." + +"You are!" repeated Scrooge. "Yes, I think you are. Step this way, sir, +if you please." + +"It's only once a year, sir," pleaded Bob, appearing from the Tank. "It +shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir." + +"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Scrooge, "I am not going to +stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore," he continued, +leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in his waistcoat that +he staggered back into the Tank again,--"and, therefore, I am about to +raise your salary!" + +Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary +idea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding him, and calling to the +people in the court for help and a strait-waistcoat. + +"A Merry Christmas, Bob!" said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could +not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. "A Merrier Christmas, +Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year! I'll raise +your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we'll +discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of +smoking bishop. Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another scuttle of coal +before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!" + +Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; +and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was second father. He became as +good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man as the good old city +knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old +world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them +laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know nothing +ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have +their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these +would be blind any way, he thought it quite as well that they should +wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive +forms. His own heart laughed, and that was quite enough for him. + +He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total +Abstinence Principle ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, +that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the +knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny +Tim observed, GOD BLESS US EVERY ONE! + +Dickens: "A Christmas Carol." + + + + +HANDS ALL ROUND + + + First pledge our Queen this solemn night, + Then drink to England, every guest; + That man's the best Cosmopolite + Who loves his native country best. + May freedom's oak for ever live + With stronger life from day to day; + That man's the true Conservative + Who lops the moulder'd branch away. + Hands all round! + God the traitor's hope confound! + To this great cause of Freedom drink, my friends, + And the great name of England, round and round. + + To all the loyal hearts who long + To keep our English Empire whole! + To all our noble sons, the strong + New England of the Southern Pole! + To England under Indian skies, + To those dark millions of her realm! + To Canada whom we love and prize, + Whatever statesman hold the helm. + Hands all round! + God the traitor's hope confound! + To this great name of England drink, my friends, + And all her glorious empire, round and round. + + To all our statesmen so they be + True leaders of the land's desire! + To both our Houses, may they see + Beyond the borough and the shire! + We sail'd wherever ship could sail, + We founded many a mighty state; + Pray God our greatness may not fail + Through craven fears of being great. + Hands all round! + God the traitor's hope confound! + To this great cause of Freedom drink, my friends, + And the great name of England, round and round. + +Tennyson + + + + +JUDAH'S SUPPLICATION TO JOSEPH + + +And Judah and his brethren came to Joseph's house; and he was yet there: +and they fell before him on the ground. And Joseph said unto them, What +deed is this that ye have done? know ye not that such a man as I can +indeed divine? And Judah said, What shall we say unto my lord? what +shall we speak? or how shall we clear ourselves? God hath found out the +iniquity of thy servants: behold, we are my lord's bondmen, both we, and +he also in whose hand the cup is found. And he said, God forbid that I +should do so: the man in whose hand the cup is found, he shall be my +bondman; but as for you, get you up in peace unto your father. + +Then Judah came near unto him, and said, Oh my lord, let thy servant, I +pray thee, speak a word in my lord's ears, and let not thine anger burn +against thy servant: for thou art even as Pharaoh. My lord asked his +servants, saying, Have ye a father, or a brother? And we said unto my +lord, We have a father, an old man, and a child of his old age, a little +one; and his brother is dead, and he alone is left of his mother, and +his father loveth him. And thou saidst unto thy servants, Bring him +down unto me, that I may set mine eyes upon him. And we said unto my +lord, The lad cannot leave his father: for if he should leave his +father, his father would die. And thou saidst unto thy servants, Except +your youngest brother come down with you, ye shall see my face no more. +And it came to pass when we came up unto thy servant my father, we told +him the words of my lord. And our father said, Go again, buy us a little +food. And we said, We cannot go down: if our youngest brother be with +us, then will we go down: for we may not see the man's face, except our +youngest brother be with us. And thy servant my father said unto us, Ye +know that my wife bare me two sons: and the one went out from me, and I +said, Surely he is torn in pieces; and I have not seen him since: and if +ye take this one also from me, and mischief befall him, ye shall bring +down my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave. Now, therefore, when I come +to thy servant my father, and the lad be not with us; seeing that his +life is bound up in the lad's life; it shall come to pass, when he seeth +that the lad is not with us, that he will die: and thy servants shall +bring down the gray hairs of thy servant our father with sorrow to the +grave. For thy servant became surety for the lad unto my father, saying, +If I bring him not unto thee, then shall I bear the blame to my father +for ever. Now therefore, let thy servant, I pray thee, abide instead of +the lad a bondman to my lord; and let the lad go up with his brethren. +For how shall I go up to my father, and the lad be not with me? lest I +see the evil that shall come on my father. + +Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him; +and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me. And there stood no man +with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren. And he wept +aloud: and the Egyptians heard, and the house of Pharaoh heard. And +Joseph said unto his brethren, I am Joseph; doth my father yet live? And +his brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his +presence. And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come near to me, I pray +you. And they came near. And he said, I am Joseph your brother whom ye +sold into Egypt. And now be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that +ye sold me hither: for God did send me before you to preserve life. For +these two years hath the famine been in the land; and there are yet five +years in the which there shall be neither ploughing nor harvest. And +God sent me before you to preserve you a remnant in the earth, and to +save you alive by a great deliverance. So now it was not you that sent +me hither, but God: and he hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of +all his house, and ruler over all the land of Egypt. Haste ye, and go up +to my father, and say unto him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made +me lord of all Egypt: come down unto me, tarry not: and thou shalt dwell +in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy +children, and thy children's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, +and all that thou hast: and there will I nourish thee; for there are yet +five years of famine; lest thou come to poverty, thou, and thy +household, and all that thou hast. And, behold, your eyes see, and the +eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth that speaketh unto you. +And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye +have seen; and ye shall haste and bring down my father hither. And he +fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon +his neck. And he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them; and after +that his brethren talked with him. + +Genesis, XLIV-V. + + + + +MIRIAM'S SONG + +(Read Exodus, XV.) + + + Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! + Jehovah hath triumphed--His people are free. + Sing--for the pride of the tyrant is broken, + His chariots and horsemen all splendid and brave, + How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken, + And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. + Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! + Jehovah hath triumphed--His people are free. + + Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord! + His word was the arrow, His breath was our sword! + Who shall return to tell Egypt the story + Of those she sent forth in the power of her pride? + For the Lord hath looked out from His pillar of glory, + And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide. + Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! + Jehovah hath triumphed--His people are free. + +Thomas Moore + + + + +THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB + +(Read II. Kings, XIX. 35) + + + The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, + And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; + And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, + When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. + + Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, + That host with their banners at sunset were seen: + Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, + That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. + + For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, + And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; + And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, + And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! + + And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, + But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride: + And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, + And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. + + And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, + With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; + And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, + The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. + + And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, + And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; + And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, + Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! + +Byron + + + + + The house of the wicked shall be overthrown: + But the tent of the upright shall flourish. + In the fear of the Lord is strong confidence: + And his children shall have a place of refuge. + +Proverbs + + + + +THE LARK AT THE DIGGINGS + + +The friends strode briskly on, and a little after eleven o'clock they +came upon a small squatter's house and premises. "Here we are," cried +George, and his eyes glittered with innocent delight. + +The house was thatched and whitewashed, and English was written on it +and on every foot of ground round it. A furze-bush had been planted by +the door. Vertical oak palings were the fence, with a five-barred gate +in the middle of them. From the little plantation, all the magnificent +trees and shrubs of Australia had been excluded with amazing resolution +and consistency, and oak and ash reigned safe from overtowering rivals. +They passed to the back of the house, and there George's countenance +fell a little, for on the oval grass-plot and gravel-walk he found from +thirty to forty rough fellows, most of them diggers. + +"Ah, well," said he, on reflection, "we could not expect to have it all +to ourselves, and indeed it would be a sin to wish it, you know. Now, +Tom, come this way; here it is, here it is,--there." Tom looked up, and +in a gigantic cage was a light brown bird. + +He was utterly confounded. "What, is it this we came twelve miles to +see?" + +"Ay! and twice twelve wouldn't have been much to me." + +"Well, but what is the lark you talked of?" + +"This is it." + +"This? This is a bird." + +"Well, and isn't a lark a bird?" + +"O, ay! I see! ha! ha! ha! ha!" + +Robinson's merriment was interrupted by a harsh remonstrance from +several of the diggers, who were all from the other end of the camp. + +"Hold your--cackle," cried one, "he is going to sing;" and the whole +party had their eyes turned with expectation towards the bird. + +Like most singers, he kept them waiting a bit. But at last, just at +noon, when the mistress of the house had warranted him to sing, the +little feathered exile began, as it were, to tune his pipes. The savage +men gathered round the cage that moment, and amidst a dead stillness the +bird uttered some very uncertain chirps, but after awhile he seemed to +revive his memories, and call his ancient cadences back to him one by +one, and string them _sotto voce_. + +And then the same sun that had warmed his little heart at home came +glowing down on him here, and he gave music back for it more and more, +till at last--amidst breathless silence and glistening eyes of the rough +diggers hanging on his voice--out burst in that distant land his English +song. + +It swelled his little throat and gushed from him with thrilling force +and purity, and every time he checked his song to think of its theme, +the green meadows, the quiet stealing streams, the clover he first +soared from, and the spring he sang so well, a loud sigh from many a +rough bosom, many a wild and wicked heart, told how tight the listeners +had held their breath to hear him; and when he swelled with song again, +and poured with all his soul the green meadows, the quiet brooks, the +honey clover, and the English spring, the rugged mouths opened and so +stayed, and the shaggy lips trembled, and more than one drop trickled +from fierce unbridled hearts down bronzed and rugged cheeks. + +_Dulce domum!_ + +And these shaggy men, full of oaths and strife and cupidity, had once +been white-headed boys, and had strolled about the English fields with +little sisters and little brothers, and seen the lark rise, and heard +him sing this very song. The little playmates lay in the churchyard, +and they were full of oaths and drink and lusts and remorses,--but no +note was changed in this immortal song. And so for a moment or two, +years of vice rolled away like a dark cloud from the memory, and the +past shone out in the song-shine: they came back, bright as the immortal +notes that lighted them, those faded pictures and those fleeted days; +the cottage, the old mother's tears when he left her without one grain +of sorrow; the village church and its simple chimes; the clover field +hard by in which he lay and gambolled, while the lark praised God +overhead; the chubby playmates that never grew to be wicked, the sweet +hours of youth--and innocence--and home. + +Charles Reade: "It is Never Too Late to Mend." + + + + +THE ANCIENT MARINER + + + It is an ancient Mariner, + And he stoppeth one of three. + "By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, + Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? + + The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, + And I am next of kin; + The guests are met, the feast is set: + May'st hear the merry din." + + He holds him with his skinny hand, + "There was a ship," quoth he. + "Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard, loon!" + Eftsoons his hand dropt he. + + He holds him with his glittering eye-- + The Wedding-Guest stood still, + And listens like a three years' child: + The Mariner hath his will. + + The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: + He cannot choose but hear; + And thus spake on that ancient man, + The bright-eyed Mariner: + + "The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, + Merrily did we drop + Below the kirk, below the hill, + Below the lighthouse top. + + The Sun came up upon the left, + Out of the sea came he! + And he shone bright, and on the right + Went down into the sea. + + Higher and higher every day, + Till over the mast at noon--" + The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, + For he heard the loud bassoon. + + The Bride hath paced into the hall, + Red as a rose is she; + Nodding their heads before her goes + The merry minstrelsy. + + The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, + Yet he cannot choose but hear; + And thus spake on that ancient man, + The bright-eyed Mariner: + + "And now the storm-blast came, and he + Was tyrannous and strong: + He struck with his o'ertaking wings, + And chased us south along. + + With sloping masts and dipping prow, + As who pursued with yell and blow + Still treads the shadow of his foe, + And forward bends his head, + The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, + And southward aye we fled. + + And now there came both mist and snow, + And it grew wondrous cold: + And ice, mast-high, came floating by, + As green as emerald. + + And through the drifts the snowy clifts + Did send a dismal sheen: + Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken-- + The ice was all between. + + The ice was here, the ice was there, + The ice was all around: + It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, + Like noises in a swound. + + At length did cross an Albatross,-- + Thorough the fog it came; + As if it had been a Christian soul, + We hailed it in God's name. + + It ate the food it ne'er had eat, + And round and round it flew. + The ice did split with a thunder-fit; + The helmsman steered us through! + + And a good south wind sprung up behind; + The Albatross did follow, + And every day, for food or play, + Came to the mariners' hollo! + + In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, + It perched for vespers nine; + Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, + Glimmered the white Moon-shine." + + "God save thee, ancient Mariner, + From the fiends, that plague thee thus!-- + Why look'st thou so?"--"With my cross-bow + I shot the Albatross." + +Coleridge + + + + +AT THE CLOSE OF THE FRENCH PERIOD IN CANADA + + +When the flag of France departed from Canada, it left a people destined +to find under the new rule a fuller freedom, an ampler political +development, a far more abundant prosperity. It left a people destined +to honour their new allegiance by loyalty and heroic service in the hour +of trial. + +This people, which thus became British by a campaign and a treaty, was +destined to form the solid core around which should grow the vast +Confederation of Canada. But for them there would now, in all +likelihood, be no Canada. By their rejection of the proposals of the +revolted colonies, the northern half of this continent was preserved to +Great Britain. The debt which the empire owes to the French Canadians is +immeasurably greater than we at present realize. Let us examine the +characteristics of the small and isolated people which was to exercise +such a deep influence on the future of this continent. + +The whole population of Canada when she came under the British flag was +about sixty thousand. This hardy handful was gathered chiefly at Quebec, +Three Rivers, and Montreal. The rest trailed thinly along the shores of +the St. Lawrence and the Richelieu. The lands about the Great Lakes, and +the western country, were held only by a few scattered forts, buried +here and there in the green wilderness. At Detroit had sprung up a +scanty settlement of perhaps one thousand souls. In these remote posts +the all-important question was still that of the fur-trade with the +Indians. The traders and the soldiers, cut off from civilization, +frequently took wives from the Indian tribes about them, and settled +down to a life half barbarous. These men soon grew as lawless as their +adopted kinsfolk. They were a weakness and a discredit to the country in +time of peace, but in war their skill and daring were the frontier's +best defence. + +Quebec had seven thousand inhabitants. Most of them dwelt between the +water's edge and the foot of the great cliff whose top was crowned by +the citadel. Where the shoulder of the promontory swept around toward +the St. Charles, the slope became more gentle, and there the houses and +streets began to clamber toward the summit. Streets that found +themselves growing too precipitous had a way, then as now, of changing +suddenly into flights of stairs. The city walls, grimly bastioned, ran +in bold zigzags across the face of the steep in a way to daunt +assailants. Down the hillside, past the cathedral and the college, +through the heart of the city, clattered a noisy brook, which in time of +freshet flooded the neighbouring streets. Part of the city was within +walls, part without. Most of the houses were low, one-story buildings, +with large expanse of steep roof, and high dormer windows. Along the +incline leading down to the St. Charles stretched populous suburbs. On +the high plateau where now lies the stately New Town, there was then but +a bleak pasture-land whose grasses waved against the city gates. + +Montreal, after its childhood of awful trial, had greatly prospered. Its +population had risen to about nine thousand. The fur-trade of the +mysterious Northwest, developed by a succession of daring and tireless +wood-rangers, had poured its wealth into the lap of the city of +Maisonneuve. The houses, some of which were built of the light gray +stone which now gives dignity to the city, were usually of but one +story. They were arranged in three or four long lines parallel to the +river. The towers of the Seminary of St. Sulpicius and the spires of +three churches, standing out against the green of the stately mountain, +were conspicuous from afar to voyagers coming up the river from Quebec. +The city was inclosed by a stone wall and a shallow ditch, once useful +as a defence against the Indians, but no protection in the face of +serious assault. At the lower end of the city, covering the +landing-place, rose a high earthwork crowned with cannon. + +The houses of the _habitants_, tillers of the soil, were small cabins, +humble but warm, with wide, overhanging eaves, and consisting at most of +two rooms. The partition, when there was one, was of boards. Lath and +plaster were unknown. The walls within, to the height of a man's +shoulders, were worn smooth by the backs that leaned against them. Solid +wooden boxes and benches usually took the place of chairs. A clumsy +loom, on which the women wove their coarse homespuns of wool or flax, +occupied one corner of the main room; and a deep, box-like cradle, +always rocking, stood beside the ample fireplace. Over the fire stood +the long, black arms of a crane, on which was done most of the cooking; +though the "bake-kettle" sometimes relieved its labours, and the brick +oven was a standby in houses of the rich _habitants_, as well as of the +gentry. For the roasting of meats the spit was much in use; and there +was a gridiron with legs, to stand on the hearth, with a heap of hot +coals raked under it. The houses even of the upper classes were seldom +two stories in height. But they were generally furnished with a good +deal of luxury; and in the cities they were sometimes built of stone. + +A typical country mansion, the dwelling of a seigneur on his own domain, +was usually of the following fashion. The main building, one story in +height but perhaps a hundred feet long, was surmounted by lofty gables +and a very steep roof, built thus to shed the snow and to give a roomy +attic for bed-chambers. The attic was lighted by numerous, high-peaked +dormer windows, piercing the expanse of the roof. This main building was +flanked by one or more wings. Around it clustered the wash-house +(adjoining the kitchen), coach house, barns, stable, and woodsheds. This +homelike cluster of walls and roofs was sheltered from the winter storm +by groves of evergreen, and girdled cheerily by orchard and +kitchen-garden. On one side, and not far off, was usually a village with +a church-spire gleaming over it; on the other a circular stone mill, +resembling a little fortress rather than a peaceful aid to industry. +This structure, where all the tenants of the seigneur were obliged to +grind their grain, had indeed been built in the first place to serve not +only as a mill, but as a place of refuge from the Iroquois. It was +furnished with loopholes, and was impregnable to the attacks of an enemy +lacking cannon. + +The dress of the upper classes was like that prevailing among the same +classes in France, though much less extravagant. The long, wide-frocked +coats were of gay-coloured and costly material, with lace at neck and +wristbands. The waistcoat might be richly embroidered with gold or +silver. Knee-breeches took the place of our unsightly trousers, and were +fastened with bright buckles at the knee. Stockings were of white or +coloured silk, and shoes were set off by broad buckles at the instep. +These, of course, were the dresses of ceremony, the dresses seen at +balls and grand receptions. Out-of-doors, and in the winter especially, +the costumes of the nobility were more distinctly Canadian. Overcoats of +native cloth were worn, with large, pointed hoods. Their pattern is +preserved to the present day in the blanket coats of our snow-shoers. +Young men might be seen going about in colours that brightened the +desolate winter landscape. Gay belts of green, blue, red, or yellow +enriched the waists of their thick overcoats. Their scarlet leggings +were laced up with green ribbons. Their moccasins were gorgeously +embroidered with dyed porcupine quills. Their caps of beaver or martin +were sometimes tied down over their ears with vivid handkerchiefs of +silk. The _habitants_ were rougher and more sombre in their dress. A +black homespun coat, gray leggings, gray woollen cap, heavy moccasins of +cowhide,--this grave costume was usually brightened by a belt or sash of +the liveliest colours. The country-women had to content themselves with +the same coarse homespuns, which they wore in short, full skirts. But +they got the gay colours which they loved in kerchiefs for their necks +and shoulders. + +In war the regulars were sharply distinguished from those of the British +army by their uniforms. The white of the House of Bourbon was the colour +that marked their regiments, as scarlet marked those of the British. The +militia and wood-rangers fought in their ordinary dress,--or, +occasionally, with the object of terrifying their enemies, put on the +war-paint and eagle-quills of the Indians. The muskets of the day were +the heavy weapons known as flint-locks. When the trigger was pulled the +flint came down sharply on a piece of steel, and the spark, falling into +a shallow "pan" of powder called the "priming," ignited the charge. The +regulars carried bayonets on the ends of their muskets, but the militia +and rangers had little use for these weapons. They depended on their +marksmanship, which was deadly. The regulars fired breast high in the +direction of their enemy, trusting to the steadiness and closeness of +their fire; but the colonials did not waste their precious bullets and +powder in this way. They had learned from the Indians, whom they could +beat at their own game, to fight from behind trees, rocks, or hillocks, +to load and fire lying down, and to surprise their enemies by stealing +noiselessly through the underbrush. At close quarters they fought, like +the Indians, with knife and hatchet, both of which were carried in their +belts. From the ranger's belt, too, when on the march, hung the leathern +bag of bullets, and the inevitable tobacco-pouch; while from his neck +swung a powder-horn, often richly carved, together with his cherished +pipe inclosed in its case of skin. Very often, however, the ranger +spared himself the trouble of a pipe by scooping a bowl in the back of +his tomahawk and fitting it with a hollow handle. Thus the same +implement became both the comfort of his leisure and the torment of his +enemies. In winter, when the Canadians, expert in the use of the +snow-shoe and fearless of the cold, did much of their fighting, they +wore thick peaked hoods over their heads, and looked like a procession +of friars wending through the silent forest on some errand of piety or +mercy. Their hands were covered by thick mittens of woollen yarn, and +they dragged their provisions and blankets on sleds or toboggans. At +night they would use their snow-shoes to shovel a wide, circular pit in +the snow, clearing it away to the bare earth. In the centre of the pit, +they would build their camp fire, and sleep around it on piles of spruce +boughs, secure from the winter wind. The leaders, usually members of +the nobility, fared on these expeditions as rudely as their men, and +outdid them in courage and endurance. Some of the most noted chiefs of +the wood-rangers were scions of the noblest families; and though living +most of the year the life of savages, were able to shine by their graces +and refinement in the courtliest society of the day. + +Charles G. D. Roberts: "History of Canada." + + + + +A HYMN OF EMPIRE + + + Lord, by Whose might the Heavens stand, + The Source from Whom they came, + Who holdest nations in Thy hand, + And call'st the stars by name, + Thine ageless forces do not cease + To mould us as of yore-- + The chiselling of the arts of peace, + The anvil-strikes of war. + + Then bind our realm in brotherhood, + Firm laws and equal rights, + Let each uphold the Empire's good + In freedom that unites; + And make that speech whose thunders roll + Down the broad stream of time + The harbinger from pole to pole + Of love and peace sublime. + + Lord, turn the hearts of cowards who prate, + Afraid to dare or spend, + The doctrine of a narrower state + More easy to defend; + Not this the watchword of our sires, + Who breathed with ocean's breath, + Not this our spirit's ancient fires, + Which naught could quench but death. + + Strong are we? Make us stronger yet; + Great? Make us greater far; + Our feet antarctic oceans fret, + Our crown the polar star: + Round Earth's wild coasts our batteries speak, + Our highway is the main, + We stand as guardian of the weak, + We burst the oppressor's chain. + + Great God, uphold us in our task, + Keep pure and clean our rule, + Silence the honeyed words which mask + The wisdom of the fool; + The pillars of the world are Thine, + Pour down Thy bounteous grace, + And make illustrious and divine + The sceptre of our race. + +F. G. Scott + + + + +STORY OF ABSALOM + + +So the people went out into the field against Israel: and the battle was +in the wood of Ephraim; where the people of Israel were slain before the +servants of David, and there was there a great slaughter that day of +twenty thousand men. For the battle was there scattered over the face of +all the country: and the wood devoured more people that day than the +sword devoured. + +And Absalom met the servants of David. And Absalom rode upon a mule, and +the mule went under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head caught +hold of the oak, and he was taken up between the heaven and the earth; +and the mule that was under him went away. + +And a certain man saw it, and told Joab, and said, Behold, I saw Absalom +hanged in an oak. + +And Joab said unto the man that told him, And, behold, thou sawest him, +and why didst thou not smite him there to the ground? and I would have +given thee ten shekels of silver, and a girdle. + +And the man said unto Joab, Though I should receive a thousand shekels +of silver in mine hand, yet would I not put forth mine hand against the +king's son: for in our hearing the king charged thee and Abishai and +Ittai, saying, Beware that none touch the young man Absalom. Otherwise I +should have wrought falsehood against mine own life: for there is no +matter hid from the king, and thou thyself wouldest have set thyself +against me. + +Then said Joab, I may not tarry thus with thee. And he took three darts +in his hand, and thrust them through the heart of Absalom, while he was +yet alive in the midst of the oak. And ten young men that bare Joab's +armour compassed about and smote Absalom, and slew him. + +And Joab blew the trumpet, and the people returned from pursuing after +Israel: for Joab held back the people. And they took Absalom, and cast +him into a great pit in the wood, and laid a very great heap of stones +upon him: and all Israel fled every one to his tent. + + * * * * * + +And David sat between the two gates: and the watchman went up to the +roof over the gate unto the wall, and lifted up his eyes, and looked, +and behold a man running alone. And the watchman cried, and told the +king. And the king said, If he be alone, there is tidings in his mouth. +And he came apace, and drew near. + +And the watchman saw another man running: and the watchman called unto +the porter, and said, Behold another man running alone. And the king +said, He also bringeth tidings. And the watchman said, Me thinketh the +running of the foremost is like the running of Ahimaaz, the son of +Zadok. And the king said, He is a good man, and cometh with good +tidings. + +And Ahimaaz called, and said unto the king, All is well. And he fell +down to the earth upon his face before the king, and said, Blessed be +the Lord thy God, which hath delivered up the men that lifted up their +hand against my lord the king. + +And the king said, Is the young man Absalom safe? And Ahimaaz answered, +When Joab sent the king's servant, and me thy servant, I saw a great +tumult, but I knew not what it was. And the king said unto him, Turn +aside, and stand here. And he turned aside, and stood still. + +And, behold, Cushi came; and Cushi said, Tidings, my lord the king: for +the Lord hath avenged thee this day of all them that rose up against +thee. And the king said unto Cushi, Is the young man Absalom safe? And +Cushi answered, The enemies of my lord the king, and all that rise +against thee to do thee hurt, be as that young man is. + +And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, +and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son +Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son! + + * * * * * + +And the victory that day was turned into mourning unto all the people: +for the people heard say that day how the king was grieved for his son. +And the people gat them by stealth that day into the city, as people +being ashamed steal away when they flee in battle. + +But the king covered his face, and the king cried with a loud voice, O +my son Absalom, O Absalom, my son, my son! + +II. Samuel, XVIII-XIX. + + + + + I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty; + I woke, and found that life was duty. + Was my dream, then, a shadowy lie? + Toil on, brave heart, unceasingly, + And thou shalt find thy dream to be + A noonday light and truth to thee. + +Hooper + + + + +THE BURIAL OF MOSES + +(Read Deuteronomy, XXXII. 48-50) + + + By Nebo's lonely mountain, + On this side Jordan's wave, + In a vale in the land of Moab, + There lies a lonely grave; + And no man knows that sepulchre, + And no man saw it e'er; + For the angels of God upturned the sod, + And laid the dead man there. + + That was the grandest funeral + That ever passed on earth; + But no man heard the trampling, + Or saw the train go forth: + Noiselessly as the daylight + Comes when the night is done, + And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek + Grows into the great sun; + + Noiselessly as the spring-time + Her crown of verdure weaves, + And all the trees on all the hills + Open their thousand leaves: + So, without sound of music, + Or voice of them that wept, + Silently down from the mountain's crown + The great procession swept. + + Perchance the bald old eagle, + On gray Beth-peor's height, + Out of his lonely eyry + Looked on the wondrous sight; + Perchance the lion stalking + Still shuns that hallowed spot; + For beast and bird have seen and heard + That which man knoweth not. + + But, when the warrior dieth, + His comrades in the war, + With arms reversed and muffled drums, + Follow his funeral car; + They show the banners taken, + They tell his battles won, + And after him lead his masterless steed, + While peals the minute-gun. + + Amid the noblest of the land + We lay the sage to rest, + And give the bard an honoured place, + With costly marble dressed, + In the great minster transept + Where lights like glories fall, + And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings + Along the emblazoned wall. + + This was the bravest warrior + That ever buckled sword; + This the most gifted poet + That ever breathed a word; + And never earth's philosopher + Traced, with his golden pen, + On the deathless page, truths half so sage + As he wrote down for men. + + And had he not high honour,-- + The hillside for his pall; + To lie in state, while angels wait, + With stars for tapers tall; + And the dark rock pines, like tossing plumes, + Over his bier to wave; + And God's own hand, in that lonely land, + To lay him in the grave;-- + + In that strange grave, without a name, + Whence his uncoffined clay + Shall break again--O wondrous thought!-- + Before the judgment-day, + And stand, with glory wrapped around, + On the hills he never trod, + And speak of the strife that won our life + With the incarnate Son of God. + + O lonely grave in Moab's land! + O dark Beth-peor's hill! + Speak to these curious hearts of ours, + And teach them to be still: + God hath His mysteries of grace, + Ways that we cannot tell; + He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep + Of him He loved so well. + +Cecil Frances Alexander + + + + +THE CRUSADER AND THE SARACEN + + +As the Knight of the Couchant Leopard continued to fix his eyes +attentively on the yet distant cluster of palm trees, it seemed to him +as if some object was moving among them. The distant form separated +itself from the trees, which partly hid its motions, and advanced +towards the knight with a speed which soon showed a mounted horseman, +whom his turban, long spear, and green caftan floating in the wind, on +his nearer approach, showed to be a Saracen cavalier. + +"In the desert," saith an Eastern proverb, "no man meets a friend." The +Crusader was totally indifferent whether the infidel, who now approached +on his gallant barb, as if borne on the wings of an eagle, came as +friend or foe; perhaps, as a vowed champion of the Cross, he might +rather have preferred the latter. He disengaged his lance from his +saddle, seized it with the right hand, placed it in rest with its point +half-elevated, gathered up the reins in the left, waked his horse's +mettle with the spur, and prepared to encounter the stranger with the +calm self-confidence belonging to the victor in many contests. + +The Saracen came on at the speedy gallop of an Arab horseman, managing +his steed more by his limbs and the inflection of his body than by any +use of the reins, which hung loose in his left hand; so that he was +enabled to wield the light round buckler of the skin of the rhinoceros, +ornamented with silver loops, which he wore on his arm, swinging it as +if he meant to oppose its slender circle to the formidable thrust of the +Western lance. His own long spear was not couched or levelled like that +of his antagonist, but grasped by the middle with his right hand, and +brandished at arm's length above his head. + +As the cavalier approached his enemy at full career, he seemed to expect +that the Knight of the Leopard should put his horse to the gallop to +encounter him. But the Christian knight, well acquainted with the +customs of Eastern warriors, did not mean to exhaust his good horse by +any unnecessary exertion; and, on the contrary, made a dead halt, +confident that, if the enemy advanced to the actual shock, his own +weight, and that of his powerful charger, would give him sufficient +advantage, without the additional momentum of rapid motion. Equally +sensible and apprehensive of such a probable result, the Saracen +cavalier, when he had approached towards the Christian within twice the +length of his lance, wheeled his steed to the left with inimitable +dexterity, and rode twice around his antagonist, who, turning without +quitting his ground, and presenting his front constantly to his enemy, +frustrated his attempts to attack him on an unguarded point; so that the +Saracen, wheeling his horse, was fain to retreat to the distance of a +hundred yards. + +A second time, like a hawk attacking a heron, the Heathen renewed the +charge, and a second time was fain to retreat without coming to a close +struggle. A third time he approached in the same manner, when the +Christian knight, desirous to terminate this illusory warfare, in which +he might at length have been worn out by the activity of his foeman, +suddenly seized the mace which hung at his saddle-bow, and, with a +strong hand and unerring aim, hurled it against the head of the Emir, +for such and not less his enemy appeared. The Saracen was just aware of +the formidable missile in time to interpose his light buckler betwixt +the mace and his head; but the violence of the blow forced the buckler +down on his turban, and though that defence also contributed to deaden +its violence, the Saracen was beaten from his horse. Ere the Christian +could avail himself of this mishap, his nimble foeman sprang from the +ground, and, calling on his steed, which instantly returned to his side, +he leaped into his seat without touching the stirrup, and regained all +the advantage of which the Knight of the Leopard hoped to deprive him. +But the latter had in the meanwhile recovered his mace, and the Eastern +cavalier, who remembered the strength and dexterity with which his +antagonist had aimed it, seemed to keep cautiously out of the reach of +that weapon, of which he had so lately felt the force, while he showed +his purpose of waging a distant warfare with missile weapons of his +own. Planting his long spear in the sand at a distance from the scene of +combat, he strung, with great address, a short bow, which he carried at +his back, and, putting his horse to the gallop, once more described two +or three circles of a wider extent than formerly, in the course of which +he discharged six arrows at the Christian with such unerring skill that +the goodness of his harness alone saved him from being wounded in as +many places. The seventh shaft apparently found a less perfect part of +the armour, and the Christian dropped heavily from his horse. But what +was the surprise of the Saracen, when, dismounting to examine the +condition of his prostrate enemy, he found himself suddenly within the +grasp of the European, who had had recourse to this artifice to bring +his enemy within his reach! Even in this deadly grapple the Saracen was +saved by his agility and presence of mind. He unloosed the sword-belt, +in which the Knight of the Leopard had fixed his hold, and, thus eluding +his fatal grasp, mounted his horse, which seemed to watch his motions +with the intelligence of a human being, and again rode off. But in the +last encounter the Saracen had lost his sword and his quiver of arrows, +both of which were attached to the girdle, which he was obliged to +abandon. He had also lost his turban in the struggle. These +disadvantages seemed to incline the Moslem to a truce: he approached the +Christian with his right hand extended, but no longer in a menacing +attitude. + +"There is truce betwixt our nations," he said, in the _lingua franca_ +commonly used for the purpose of communication with the Crusaders; +"Wherefore should there be war betwixt thee and me? Let there be peace +betwixt us." + +"I am well contented," answered he of the Couchant Leopard; "but what +security dost thou offer that thou wilt observe the truce?" + +"The word of a follower of the Prophet was never broken," answered the +Emir. "It is thou, brave Nazarene, from whom I should demand security, +did I not know that treason seldom dwells with courage." + +The Crusader felt that the confidence of the Moslem made him ashamed of +his own doubts. + +"By the cross of my sword," he said, laying his hand on the weapon as he +spoke, "I will be true companion to thee, Saracen, while our fortune +wills that we remain in company together." + +"By Mohammed, Prophet of God, and by Allah, God of the Prophet," replied +his late foeman, "there is not treachery in my heart towards thee. And +now wend we to yonder fountain, for the hour of rest is at hand, and the +stream had hardly touched my lip when I was called to battle by thy +approach." + +The Knight of the Couchant Leopard yielded a ready and courteous assent; +and the late foes, without an angry look or gesture of doubt, rode side +by side to the little cluster of palm trees. + +Scott: "The Talisman." + + + + + The quality of mercy is not strained; + It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven + Upon the place beneath: it is twice blessed; + It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: + 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes + The throned monarch better than his crown; + His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,-- + The attribute to awe and majesty, + Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings,-- + But mercy is above this sceptred sway; + It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, + It is an attribute to God himself; + And earthly power doth then shew likest God's + When mercy seasons justice. + +Shakespeare + + + + +_From_ "AN AUGUST REVERIE" + + + The ragged daisy starring all the fields, + The buttercup abrim with pallid gold, + The thistle and burr-flowers hedged with prickly shields, + All common weeds the draggled pastures hold, + With shrivelled pods and leaves, are kin to me, + Like-heirs of earth and her maturity. + + They speak a silent speech that is their own, + These wise and gentle teachers of the grass; + And when their brief and common days are flown, + A certain beauty from the year doth pass:-- + A beauty of whose light no eye can tell, + Save that it went; and my heart knew it well. + + I may not know each plant as some men know them, + As children gather beasts and birds to tame; + But I went 'mid them as the winds that blow them, + From childhood's hour, and loved without a name. + There is more beauty in a field of weeds + Than in all blooms the hothouse garden breeds. + + For they are nature's children; in their faces + I see that sweet obedience to the sky + That marks these dwellers of the wilding places, + Who with the season's being live and die; + Knowing no love but of the wind and sun, + Who still are nature's when their life is done. + + They are a part of all the haze-filled hours, + The happy, happy world all drenched with light, + The far-off, chiming click-clack of the mowers, + And yon blue hills whose mists elude my sight; + And they to me will ever bring in dreams + Far mist-clad heights and brimming rain-fed streams. + +W. Wilfred Campbell + + + + +WORK AND WAGES + + +There will always be a number of men who would fain set themselves to +the accumulation of wealth as the sole object of their lives. +Necessarily, that class of men is an uneducated class, inferior in +intellect, and, more or less, cowardly. It is physically impossible for +a well-educated, intellectual, or brave man to make money the chief +object of his thoughts; just as it is for him to make his dinner the +principal object of them. All healthy people like their dinners, but +their dinner is not the main object of their lives. So all +healthily-minded people like making money--ought to like it, and to +enjoy the sensation of winning it: but the main object of their life is +not money; it is something better than money. A good soldier, for +instance, mainly wishes to do his fighting well. He is glad of his +pay--very properly so, and justly grumbles when you keep him ten years +without it--still, his main notion of life is to win battles, not to be +paid for winning them. So of clergymen. They like pew-rents, and +baptismal fees, of course; but yet, if they are brave and well-educated, +the pew-rent is not the sole object of their lives, and the baptismal +fee is not the sole purpose of the baptism; the clergyman's object is +essentially to baptize and preach, not to be paid for preaching. So of +doctors. They like fees no doubt,--ought to like them; yet if they are +brave and well-educated, the entire object of their lives is not fees. +They, on the whole, desire to cure the sick; and,--if they are good +doctors, and the choice were fairly put to them--would rather cure their +patient, and lose their fee, than kill him, and get it. And so with all +other brave and rightly-trained men; their work is first, their fee +second--very important always, but still _second_. But in every nation, +as I said, there are a vast class who are ill-educated, cowardly, and +more or less stupid. And with these people, just as certainly the fee is +first, and the work second, as with brave people the work is first, and +the fee second. And this is no small distinction. It is the whole +distinction in a man; distinction between life and death _in_ him, +between heaven and hell _for_ him. You cannot serve two masters:--you +_must_ serve one or other. If your work is first with you, and your fee +second, work is your master, and the lord of work, who is God. But, if +your fee is first with you, and your work second, fee is your master, +and the lord of fee, who is the Devil; and not only the Devil but the +lowest of devils--the 'least erected fiend that fell.' So there you have +it in brief terms; Work first--you are God's servants; Fee first--you +are the Fiend's. And it makes a difference, now and ever, believe me, +whether you serve Him who has on His vesture and thigh written, 'King of +Kings,' and whose service is perfect freedom; or him on whose vesture +and thigh the name is written, 'Slave of Slaves,' and whose service is +perfect slavery. + +Ruskin + + + + +UNTRODDEN WAYS + + + Where close the curving mountains drew + To clasp the stream in their embrace, + With every outline, curve, and hue, + Reflected in its placid face, + + The ploughman stopped his team, to watch + The train, as swift it thundered by; + Some distant glimpse of life to catch, + He strains his eager, wistful eye. + + His glossy horses mildly stand + With wonder in their patient eyes, + As through the tranquil mountain land + The snorting monster onward flies. + + The morning freshness is on him, + Just wakened from his balmy dreams; + The wayfarers, all soiled and dim, + Think longingly of mountain streams:-- + + O for the joyous mountain air! + The long, delightful autumn day + Among the hills!--the ploughman there + Must have perpetual holiday! + + And he, as all day long he guides + His steady plough with patient hand, + Thinks of the flying train that glides + Into some fair, enchanted land; + + Where day by day no plodding round + Wearies the frame and dulls the mind; + Where life thrills keen to sight and sound, + With plough and furrows left behind! + + Even so to each the untrod ways + Of life are touched by fancy's glow, + That ever sheds its brightest rays + Upon _the page we do not know_! + +Agnes Maule Machar + + + + +THE FIRST PLOUGHING + + + Calls the crow from the pine-tree top + When the April air is still. + He calls to the farmer hitching his team + In the farmyard under the hill. + "Come up," he cries, "come out and come up, + For the high field's ripe to till. + Don't wait for word from the dandelion + Or leave from the daffodil." + + Cheeps the flycatcher--"Here old earth + Warms up in the April sun; + And the first ephemera, wings yet wet, + From the mould creep one by one. + Under the fence where the flies frequent + Is the earliest gossamer spun. + Come up from the damp of the valley lands, + For here the winter's done." + + Whistles the high-hole out of the grove + His summoning loud and clear: + "Chilly it may be down your way + But the high south field has cheer. + On the sunward side of the chestnut stump + The woodgrubs wake and appear. + Come out to your ploughing, come up to your ploughing, + The time for ploughing is here." + + Then dips the coulter and drives the share, + And the furrows faintly steam. + The crow drifts furtively down from the pine + To follow the clanking team. + The flycatcher tumbles, the high-hole darts + In the young noon's yellow gleam; + And wholesome sweet the smell of the sod + Upturned from its winter's dream. + +Charles G. D. Roberts + + + + +THE ARCHERY CONTEST + + +"The day," said Waldemar, "is not yet very far spent--let the archers +shoot a few rounds at the target, and the prize be adjudged." + +One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts +yeomanlike and bravely. Of the ten shafts which hit the target, two +within the inner ring were shot by Hubert, a forester in the service of +Malvoisin, who was accordingly pronounced victorious. + +"Now, Locksley," said Prince John with a bitter smile, "wilt thou try +conclusions with Hubert?" + +"Sith it be no better," said Locksley, "I am content to try my fortune; +on condition that when I have shot two shafts at yonder mark of +Hubert's, he shall be bound to shoot one at that which I shall propose." + +"That is but fair," answered Prince John, "and it shall not be refused +thee. If thou dost beat this braggart, Hubert, I will fill the bugle +with silver pennies for thee." + +"A man can but do his best," answered Hubert; "but my grandsire drew a +good long bow at Hastings, and I trust not to dishonour his memory." + +The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size +placed in its room. Hubert took his aim with great deliberation, long +measuring the distance with his eye, while he held in his hand his +bended bow, with the arrow placed on the string. At length he made a +step forward, and raising the bow at the full stretch of his left arm, +till the centre or grasping-place was nigh level with his face, he drew +his bow-string to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air, and +lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the +centre. + +"You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert," said his antagonist, +bending his bow, "or that had been a better shot." + +So saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon his aim, +Locksley stepped to the appointed station, and shot his arrow as +carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark. He +was speaking almost at the same instant that the shaft left the +bow-string, yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white +spot which marked the centre than that of Hubert. + +"By the light of heaven!" said Prince John to Hubert, "an thou suffer +that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!" + +"An your highness were to hang me," said Hubert, "a man can but do his +best. Nevertheless, my grandsire drew a good bow----" + +"The foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!" interrupted +John; "shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall be the worse for +thee!" + +Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and making the necessary +allowance for a very light air of wind, which had just arisen, shot so +successfully that his arrow alighted in the very centre of the target. + +"Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley," said the Prince with an +insulting smile. + +"I will notch his shaft for him, however," replied Locksley. + +And letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it +lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers. + +"And now," said Locksley, "I will crave your Grace's permission to plant +such a mark as is used in the North Country, and welcome every brave +yeoman who shall try a shot at it." + +He then turned to leave the lists. "Let your guards attend me," he said, +"if you please--I go but to cut a rod from the next willow-bush." + +Locksley returned almost instantly with a willow wand about six feet in +length, perfectly straight, and rather thicker than a man's thumb. He +began to peel this, observing that to ask a good woodman to shoot at a +target so broad as had hitherto been used, was to put shame upon his +skill. "For my own part," he said, "and in the land where I was bred, +men would as soon take for their mark King Arthur's round table, which +held sixty knights around it. A child of seven years old," he said, +"might hit yonder target with a headless shaft; but," added he, walking +deliberately to the other end of the lists, and sticking the willow wand +upright in the ground, "he that hits that rod at five-score yards, I +call him an archer fit to bear bow and quiver before a king." + +"My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings, +and never shot at such a mark in his life--and neither will I. If this +yeoman can cleave that rod, I give him the bucklers--or rather, I yield +to the devil that is in his jerkin, and not to any human skill; a man +can but do his best, and I will not shoot where I am sure to miss. I +might as well shoot at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I +can hardly see." + +"Cowardly dog!" said Prince John--"Sirrah Locksley, do thou shoot; but, +if thou hittest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever did +so. Howe'er it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of +superior skill." + +"I will do my best, as Hubert says," answered Locksley; "no man can do +more." + +So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked +with attention to his weapon, and changed the string, which he thought +was no longer truly round, having been a little frayed by the two former +shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude +awaited the event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their +opinion of his skill: his arrow split the willow rod against which it +was aimed. A jubilee of acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in +admiration of Locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his +person. "These twenty nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou +hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt +take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our body-guard, and be +near to our person. For never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so +true an eye direct a shaft." + +"Pardon me, noble Prince," said Locksley; "but I have vowed, that, if +ever I take service, it should be with your royal brother, King Richard. +These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave a +bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the +trial, he would have hit the wand as well as I." + +Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the +stranger; and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed +with the crowd, and was seen no more. + +Scott: "Ivanhoe." + + + + +IN NOVEMBER + + + The hills and leafless forests slowly yield + To the thick-driving snow. A little while + And night shall darken down. In shouting file + The woodmen's carts go by me homeward-wheeled, + Past the thin fading stubbles, half-concealed, + Now golden-gray, sowed softly through with snow, + Where the last ploughman follows still his row, + Turning black furrows through the whitening field. + +Archibald Lampman + + + + +AUTUMN WOODS + + + Ere, in the northern gale, + The summer tresses of the trees are gone, + The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, + Have put their glory on. + + The mountains that infold, + In their wide sweep, the coloured landscape round, + Seem groups of giant kings, in purple and gold, + That guard the enchanted ground. + + I roam the woods that crown + The upland, where the mingled splendours glow, + Where the gay company of trees look down + On the green fields below. + + My steps are not alone + In these bright walks; the sweet south-west, at play + Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strown + Along the winding way. + + And far in heaven, the while, + The sun, that sends that gale to wander here, + Pours out on the fair earth his quiet smile,-- + The sweetest of the year. + + Where now the solemn shade, + Verdure and gloom where many branches meet: + So grateful, when the noon of summer made + The valleys sick with heat? + + Let in through all the trees + Come the strange rays; the forest depths are bright, + Their sunny-coloured foliage, in the breeze, + Twinkles, like beams of light. + + The rivulet, late unseen, + Where bickering through the shrubs its waters run, + Shines with the image of its golden screen + And glimmerings of the sun. + + Oh, Autumn! why so soon + Depart the hues that make thy forests glad, + Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon, + And leave thee wild and sad! + + Ah! 'twere a lot too blest + Forever in thy coloured shades to stray; + Amid the kisses of the soft south-west + To rove and dream for aye; + + And leave the vain low strife + That makes men mad--the tug for wealth and power, + The passions and the cares that wither life, + And waste its little hour. + +Bryant + + + + +IN A CANOE + + +Among all the modes of progression hitherto invented by restless man, +there is not one that can compare in respect of comfort and luxury with +travelling in a birch-bark canoe. It is the poetry of progression. Along +the bottom of the boat are laid blankets and bedding; a sort of +wicker-work screen is sloped against the middle thwart, affording a +delicious support to the back; and indolently, in your shirt sleeves if +the day be warm, or well covered with a blanket if it is chilly, you sit +or lie on this most luxurious of couches, and are propelled at a rapid +rate over the smooth surface of a lake or down the swift current of some +stream. If you want exercise, you can take a paddle yourself. If you +prefer to be inactive, you can lie still and placidly survey the +scenery, rising occasionally to have a shot at a wild duck; at +intervals reading, smoking, and sleeping. Sleep, indeed, you will enjoy +most luxuriously, for the rapid bounding motion of the canoe as it leaps +forward at every impulse of the crew, the sharp quick beat of the +paddles on the water, and the roll of their shafts against the gunwale, +with the continuous hiss and ripple of the stream cleft by the curving +prow, combine to make a most soothing soporific. + +Dreamily you lie side by side--you and your friend--lazily gazing at the +pine-covered shores and wooded islands of some unknown lake, the open +book unheeded on your knee; the half-smoked pipe drops into your lap; +your head sinks gently back; and you wander into dreamland, to awake +presently and find yourself sweeping round the curve of some majestic +river, whose shores are blazing with the rich crimson, brown, and gold +of the maple and other hardwood trees in their autumn dress. + +Presently the current quickens. The best man shifts his place from the +stern to the bow, and stands ready with his long-handled paddle to twist +the frail boat out of reach of hidden rocks. The men's faces glow with +excitement. Quicker and quicker flows the stream, breaking into little +rapids, foaming round rocks, and rising in tumbling waves over the +shallows. At a word from the bowman the crew redouble their efforts, the +paddle shafts crash against the gunwale, the spray flies beneath the +bending blades. The canoe shakes and quivers through all its fibres, +leaping bodily at every stroke. + +Before you is a seething mass of foam, its whiteness broken by horrid +black rocks, one touch against whose jagged sides would rip the canoe +into tatters and hurl you into eternity. Your ears are full of the roar +of waters; waves leap up in all directions, as the river, maddened at +obstruction, hurls itself through some narrow gorge. The bowman stands +erect to take one look in silence, noting in that critical instant the +line of deepest water; then bending to his work, with sharp, short words +of command to the steersman, he directs the boat. The canoe seems to +pitch headlong into space. Whack! comes a great wave over the bow; +crash! comes another over the side. The bowman, his figure stooped, and +his knees planted firmly against the sides, stands, with paddle poised +in both hands, screaming to the crew to paddle hard; and the crew cheer +and shout with excitement in return. You, too, get wild, and feel +inclined to yell defiance to the roaring, hissing flood that madly +dashes you from side to side. After the first plunge you are in a +bewildering whirl of waters. The shore seems to fly past you. Crash! You +are right on that rock, and (I don't care who you are) you will feel +your heart jump into your mouth, and you will catch the side with a grip +that leaves a mark on your fingers afterwards. No! With a shriek of +command to the steersman, and a plunge of his paddle, the bowman +wrenches the canoe out of its course. Another stroke or two, another +plunge forward, and with a loud exulting yell from the bowman, who +flourishes his paddle round his head, you pitch headlong down the final +leap, and with a grunt of relief from the straining crew glide rapidly +into still water. + +Lord Dunraven: "The Great Divide." + + +[Illustration: PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS. TORONTO] + + + + +"With whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." + + It fortifies my soul to know + That, though I perish, Truth is so: + That, howsoe'er I stray and range, + Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change, + I steadier step when I recall + That, if I slip Thou dost not fall. + +Clough + + + + +AFTON WATER + + + Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, + Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise: + My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, + Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. + + Thou stock-dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, + Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, + Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear, + I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. + + How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills, + Far mark'd with the courses of clear, winding rills, + There daily I wander as noon rises high, + My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. + + How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, + Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow: + There, oft as mild ev'ning weeps over the lea, + The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. + + Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, + And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; + How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, + As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave. + + Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes, + Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays, + My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, + Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. + +Burns + + + + +DAVID COPPERFIELD'S FIRST JOURNEY ALONE + + +I slept soundly until we got to Yarmouth and drove to the inn yard. A +lady looked out of a bow-window where some fowls and joints of meat were +hanging up, and said: + +"Is that the little gentleman from Blunder-stone?" + +"Yes, ma'am," I said. + +The lady then rang a bell and called out: "William! show the +coffee-room!" upon which a waiter came running out of a kitchen on the +opposite side of the yard to show it, and seemed a good deal surprised +when he found he was only to show it to me. + +It was a large, long room with some large maps in it. I doubt if I could +have felt much stranger if the maps had been real foreign countries, and +I cast away in the middle of them. I felt it was taking a liberty to sit +down, with my cap in my hand, on the corner of the chair nearest the +door; and when the waiter laid a cloth on purpose for me, and put a set +of casters on it, I think I must have turned red all over with modesty. + +He brought me some chops, and vegetables, and took the covers off in +such a bouncing manner that I was afraid I must have given him some +offence. But he greatly relieved my mind by putting a chair for me at +the table, and saying, very affably: "Now, six-foot! come on!" + +I thanked him, and took my seat at the board; but found it extremely +difficult to handle my knife and fork with anything like dexterity, or +to avoid splashing myself with the gravy, while he was standing +opposite, staring so hard, and making me blush in the most dreadful +manner every time I caught his eye. After watching me into the second +chop, he said: + +"There's half a pint of ale for you. Will you have it now?" + +I thanked him and said "Yes." Upon which he poured it out of a jug into +a large tumbler, and held it up against the light, and made it look +beautiful. + +"My eye!" he said. "It seems a good deal, don't it?" + +"It does seem a good deal," I answered with a smile. For it was quite +delightful to me to find him so pleasant. He was a twinkling-eyed, +pimple-faced man, with his hair standing upright all over his head; and +as he stood with one arm a-kimbo, holding up the glass to the light with +the other hand, he looked quite friendly. + +"There was a gentleman here, yesterday," he said--"a stout gentleman, by +the name of Topsawyer--perhaps you know him." + +"No," I said, "I don't think--" + +"In breeches and gaiters, broad-brimmed hat, gray coat, speckled +choker," said the waiter. + +"No," I said, bashfully, "I haven't the pleasure--" + +"He came in here," said the waiter, looking at the light through the +tumbler, "ordered a glass of this ale--_would_ order it--I told him +not--drank it, and fell dead. It was too old for him. It oughtn't to be +drawn; that's the fact." + +I was very much shocked to hear of this melancholy accident, and said I +thought I had better have some water. + +"Why, you see," said the waiter, still looking at the light through the +tumbler, with one of his eyes shut up, "our people don't like things +being ordered and left. It offends 'em. But _I'll_ drink it, if you +like. I'm used to it, and use is everything. I don't think it'll hurt +me, if I throw my head back, and take it off quick. Shall I?" + +I replied that he would much oblige me by drinking it, if he thought he +could do it safely, but by no means otherwise. When he did throw his +head back and take it off quick, I had a horrible fear, I confess, of +seeing him meet the fate of the lamented Mr. Topsawyer, and fall +lifeless on the carpet. But it didn't hurt him. On the contrary, I +thought he seemed the fresher for it. + +"What have we got here?" he said, putting a fork into my dish. "Not +chops?" + +"Chops," I said. + +"Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, "I didn't know they were chops. Why, a +chop's the very thing to take off the bad effects of that beer! Ain't it +lucky?" + +So he took a chop by the bone in one hand, and a potato in the other, +and ate away with a very good appetite, to my extreme satisfaction. He +afterwards took another chop, and another potato; and after that another +chop, and another potato. When he had done, he brought me a pudding, and +having set it before me, seemed to ruminate, and to become absent in his +mind for some moments. + +"How's the pie?" he said, rousing himself. + +"It's a pudding," I made answer. + +"Pudding!" he exclaimed. "Why, bless me, so it is! What!" looking at it +nearer. "You don't mean to say it's a batter-pudding?" + +"Yes, it is indeed." + +"Why, a batter-pudding," he said, taking up a table-spoon, "it's my +favourite pudding! Ain't that lucky? Come on, little 'un, and let's see +who'll get most." + +The waiter certainly got most. He entreated me more than once to come in +and win, but what with his table-spoon to my tea-spoon, his despatch to +my despatch, and his appetite to my appetite, I was left far behind at +the first mouthful, and had no chance with him. I never saw any one +enjoy a pudding so much, I think; and he laughed, when it was all gone, +as if his enjoyment of it lasted still. + +Finding him so very friendly and companionable, it was then that I asked +for the pen and ink and paper, to write to Peggoty. He not only brought +it immediately, but was good enough to look over me while I wrote the +letter. When I had finished it, he asked me where I was going to school. + +I said: "Near London," which was all I knew. + +"Oh! my eye!" he said, looking very low-spirited, "I am sorry for that." + +"Why?" I asked him. + +"Oh!" he said, shaking his head, "that's the school where they broke the +boy's ribs--two ribs--a little boy he was. I should say he was--let me +see--how old are you, about?" + +I told him between eight and nine. + +"That's just his age," he said. "He was eight years and six months old +when they broke his first rib; eight years and eight months old when +they broke his second, and did for him." + +I could not disguise from myself, or from the waiter, that this was an +uncomfortable coincidence, and inquired how it was done. His answer was +not cheering to my spirits, for it consisted of two dismal words, "With +whopping." + +The blowing of the coach-horn in the yard was a seasonable diversion, +which made me get up and hesitatingly inquire, in the mingled pride and +diffidence of having a purse (which I took out of my pocket), if there +were anything to pay. + +"There's a sheet of letter-paper," he returned. "Did you ever buy a +sheet of letter-paper?" + +I could not remember that I ever had. + +"It's dear," he said, "on account of the duty. Threepence. That's the +way we're taxed in this country. There's nothing else, except the +waiter. Never mind the ink! _I_ lose by that." + +"What should you--what should I--how much ought I to--what would it be +right to pay the waiter, if you please?" I stammered, blushing. + +"If I hadn't a family, and that family hadn't the cowpock," said the +waiter, "I wouldn't take a sixpence. If I didn't support a aged pairint, +and a lovely sister,"--here the waiter was greatly agitated--"I wouldn't +take a farthing. If I had a good place, and was treated well here, I +should beg acceptance of a trifle, instead of taking of it. But I live +on broken wittles--and I sleep on the coals"--here the waiter burst into +tears. + +I was very much concerned for his misfortunes, and felt that any +recognition short of ninepence would be mere brutality and hardness of +heart, Therefore I gave him one of my three bright shillings, which he +received with much humility and veneration, and spun up with his thumb, +directly afterwards, to try the goodness of. + +It was a little disconcerting to me, to find, when I was being helped up +behind the coach, that I was supposed to have eaten all the dinner +without any assistance. I discovered this, from overhearing the lady in +the bow-window say to the guard: "Take care of that child, George, or +he'll burst!" and from observing that the women-servants who were about +the place came out to look and giggle at me as a young phenomenon. My +unfortunate friend, the waiter, who had quite recovered his spirits, did +not appear to be disturbed by this, but joined in the general admiration +without being at all confused. If I had any doubt of him, I suppose this +half-awakened it; but I am inclined to believe that, with the simple +confidence and natural reliance of a child upon superior years +(qualities I am very sorry any children should prematurely change for +worldly wisdom), I had no serious mistrust of him on the whole, even +then. + +Dickens: "David Copperfield." + + + + +THE BAREFOOT BOY + + + Blessings on thee, little man, + Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! + With thy turned-up pantaloons, + And thy merry whistled tunes; + With thy red lip, redder still + Kissed by strawberries on the hill; + With the sunshine on thy face, + Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace; + From my heart I give thee joy,-- + I was once a barefoot boy! + Prince thou art,--the grown-up man + Only is republican. + Let the million-dollared ride! + Barefoot, trudging at his side, + Thou hast more than he can buy + In the reach of ear and eye,-- + Outward sunshine, inward joy; + Blessings on thee, barefoot boy! + + Oh for boyhood's painless play, + Sleep that wakes in laughing day, + Health that mocks the doctor's rules, + Knowledge never learned of schools, + Of the wild bee's morning chase, + Of the wild-flower's time and place, + Flight of fowl and habitude + Of the tenants of the wood; + How the tortoise bears his shell, + How the woodchuck digs his cell, + And the ground-mole sinks his well; + How the robin feeds her young, + How the oriole's nest is hung; + Where the whitest lilies blow, + Where the freshest berries grow, + Where the ground-nut trails its vine, + Where the wood-grape's clusters shine; + Of the black wasp's cunning way, + Mason of his walls of clay, + And the architectural plans + Of gray hornet artisans!-- + For, eschewing books and tasks, + Nature answers all he asks; + Hand in hand with her he walks, + Face to face with her he talks, + Part and parcel of her joy,-- + Blessings on the barefoot boy! + + Oh for boyhood's time of June, + Crowding years in one brief moon, + When all things I heard or saw, + Me, their master, waited for. + I was rich in flowers and trees, + Humming-birds and honey-bees; + For my sport the squirrel played, + Plied the snouted mole his spade; + For my taste the blackberry cone + Purpled over hedge and stone; + Laughed the brook for my delight + Through the day and through the night, + Whispering at the garden wall, + Talked with me from fall to fall, + Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond, + Mine the walnut slopes beyond, + Mine, on bending orchard trees, + Apples of Hesperides! + Still, as my horizon grew, + Larger grew my riches, too; + All the world I saw or knew + Seemed a complex Chinese toy, + Fashioned for a barefoot boy! + + Oh for festal dainties spread, + Like my bowl of milk and bread;-- + Pewter spoon and bowl of wood, + On the door-stone, gray and rude! + O'er me, like a regal tent, + Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent, + Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, + Looped in many a wind-swung fold; + While for music came the play + Of the pied frogs' orchestra; + And, to light the noisy choir, + Lit the fly his lamp of fire. + I was monarch: pomp and joy + Waited on the barefoot boy! + + Cheerily, then, my little man, + Live and laugh, as boyhood can! + Though the flinty slopes be hard, + Stubble-speared the new-mown sward, + Every morn shall lead thee through + Fresh baptisms of the dew; + Every evening from thy feet + Shall the cool wind kiss the heat; + All too soon these feet must hide + In the prison cells of pride, + Lose the freedom of the sod, + Like a colt's for work be shod, + Made to tread the mills of toil, + Up and down in ceaseless moil; + Happy if their track be found + Never on forbidden ground; + Happy if they sink not in + Quick and treacherous sands of sin. + Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy, + Ere it passes, barefoot boy! + +Whittier + + +[Illustration: PARLIAMENT BUILDINGS. OTTAWA] + + + + +COUNTRY LIFE IN CANADA IN THE "THIRTIES" + + +Country life in Western Canada in the "Thirties" was very simple and +uneventful. There were no lines of social division such as now exist. +All alike had to toil to win and maintain a home; and if, as was +natural, some were more successful in the rough battle of pioneer life +than others, they did not feel, on that account, disposed to treat their +neighbours as their inferiors. Neighbours, they well knew, were too few +and too desirable to be coldly and haughtily treated. Had not all the +members of each community hewn their way side by side into the +fastnesses of the Canadian bush? And what could a little additional +wealth do for them, when the remoteness of the centres which might +supply luxuries, enforced simplicity and made superfluities almost +impossible? + +The furnishings of their houses were plain, and the chief articles of +dress, if substantial and comfortable, were of coarse homespun--the +product of their own labour. The sources of amusement were limited. The +day of the harmonium or piano had not come. Music, except in its +simplest vocal form, was not cultivated; only the occasional presence of +some fiddler afforded rare seasons of merriment to the delight both of +old and young. + +The motto of "Early to bed and early to rise" was, even in winter, the +strict rule of family life. In the morning all were up, and breakfast +was over usually before seven. As soon as the gray light of dawn +appeared, men and boys were off to the barns, not merely to feed the +cattle but to engage in the needful and tedious labour of threshing by +hand. In the evenings, the family gathered together for lighter tasks +and pleasant talk around a glowing fire. In firewood, at least, there +was, in those days, no need for economy. + +We scarcely realize how largely little things may contribute to +convenience and comfort. There were no lucifer matches at that date. It +was needful to cover up carefully the live coals on the hearth before +going to bed, so that there might be the means of starting the fire in +the morning. This precaution was rarely unsuccessful; but sometimes a +member of the family had to set out for a supply of fire from a +neighbour's, in order that breakfast might be prepared. I remember well +having to crawl out of my warm nest and run through the keen frosty air +for half a mile or more, to fetch live coals from a neighbour's. It was, +however, my father's practice to keep bundles of finely split pine +sticks tipped with brimstone. With the aid of these, the merest spark +served to start the fire. + +In the spring, tasks of various kinds crowded rapidly upon us. The hams +and beef that had been salted down in casks during the preceding autumn +were taken out of the brine, washed off, and hung in the smoke-house. On +the earthen floor beech or maple was burned; the oily smoke, given off +by the combustion of these woods in a confined space, not only acted as +a preservative but also lent a special flavour to the meat. Then +ploughing, fencing, sowing, and planting followed in quick succession. +No hands could be spared. The children must drive the cows to and from +pasture. They must also take a hand at churning. It was a weary task, I +well remember, to stand, perhaps for an hour, and drive the dasher up +and down through the thick cream. How often did we examine the handle +for evidence that the butter was forming, and what was the relief when +the monotonous task was at an end. As soon as my legs were long enough, +I had to follow a team; indeed, I drove the horses, mounted on the back +of one of them, when my nether limbs were scarcely sufficiently grown to +give me a grip. + +The instruments for the agricultural operations were few and rough. Iron +ploughs with cast-iron mould-boards and shares were commonly employed. +Compared with our modern ploughs, they were clumsy things, but a vast +improvement on the earlier wooden ploughs which, even at that date, had +not wholly gone out of use. For drags, tree-tops were frequently used. + +In June came sheep-washing. The sheep were driven to the bay shore and +secured in a pen. One by one they were taken out, and the fleeces +carefully washed. Within a day or two, shearing followed in the barn. +The wool was sorted; some was reserved to be carded by hand; the +remainder was sent to the mills to be turned into rolls. Then, day after +day, for weeks, the noise of the spinning-wheel was heard, accompanied +by the steady beat of the girls' feet, as they walked forward and +backward drawing out and twisting the thread and running it on the +spindle. This was work that required some skill, for on the fineness and +evenness of the thread the character of the fabric largely depended. +Finally, the yarn was carried to the weavers to be converted into cloth. + +The women of the family found their hands very full in the "Thirties." +Besides the daily round of housewifely cares, every season brought its +special duties. There were wild strawberries and raspberries to be +picked and prepared for daily consumption, or to be preserved for winter +use. Besides milking, there was the making both of butter and cheese. +There was no nurse to take care of the children, no cook to prepare the +dinner. To be sure, in households when the work was beyond the powers of +the family, the daughter of some neighbour might come as a helper. +Though hired, she was treated in all respects as one of the family, and +in return was likely to take the same sort of interest in the work, as +if the tie that bound her to the family was closer than wages. In truth, +such help was regarded as a favour, and not as in any way affecting the +girl's social position. + +The girls in those days were more at home in a kitchen than a +drawing-room. They did better execution at a tub than at a spinet, and +could handle a rolling-pin more satisfactorily than a sketch-book. At a +pinch, they could even use a rake or fork to good purpose in field or +barn. Their finishing education was received at the country school along +with their brothers. Of fashion books and milliners, few of them had any +experiences. + +Country life in Canada was plodding in the "Thirties" and there was no +varied outlook. The girls' training for future life was mainly at the +hands of their mothers; the boys followed in the footsteps of their +fathers. Neither sex felt that life was cramped or burdensome on that +account. They were content to live as their parents had done. And though +we can see that, as compared with later conditions, there may be +something wanting in such an existence, this at least we know, that, in +such a school and by such masters, the foundations of Canadian character +and prosperity were laid. + +Canniff Haight: "Country Life in Canada in the 'Thirties'." +(Adapted) + + + + +He who knows most grieves most for wasted time. + +Dante + + + + +HEAT + + + From plains that reel to southward, dim, + The road runs by me white and bare; + Up the steep hill it seems to swim + Beyond, and melt into the glare. + Upward half-way, or it may be + Nearer the summit, slowly steals + A hay-cart, moving dustily + With idly clacking wheels. + + By his cart's side the wagoner + Is slouching slowly at his ease, + Half-hidden in the windless blur + Of white dust puffing to his knees. + This wagon on the height above, + From sky to sky on either hand, + Is the sole thing that seems to move + In all the heat-held land. + + Beyond me in the fields the sun + Soaks in the grass and hath his will; + I count the marguerites one by one; + Even the buttercups are still. + On the brook yonder not a breath + Disturbs the spider or the midge. + The water-bugs draw close beneath + The cool gloom of the bridge. + + Where the far elm-tree shadows flood + Dark patches in the burning grass, + The cows, each with her peaceful cud, + Lie waiting for the heat to pass. + From somewhere on the slope near by + Into the pale depths of the noon + A wandering thrush slides leisurely + His thin revolving tune. + + In intervals of dreams I hear + The cricket from the droughty ground; + The grasshoppers spin into mine ear + A small innumerable sound. + I lift mine eyes sometimes to gaze: + The burning sky-line blinds my sight: + The woods far off are blue with haze: + The hills are drenched in light. + + And yet to me not this or that + Is always sharp or always sweet; + In the sloped shadow of my hat + I lean at rest, and drain the heat; + Nay more, I think some blessed power + Hath brought me wandering idly here: + In the full furnace of this hour + My thoughts grow keen and clear. + +Archibald Lampman + + + + +THE TWO PATHS + + + Hear, O my son, and receive my sayings; + And the years of thy life shall be many. + I have taught thee in the way of wisdom; + I have led thee in paths of uprightness. + When thou goest, thy steps shall not be straitened; + And if thou runnest, thou shalt not stumble. + Take fast hold of instruction; + Let her not go: + Keep her; + For she is thy life. + + Enter not into the Path of the Wicked, + And walk not in the way of evil men. + Avoid it, + Pass not by it; + Turn from it, + And pass on. + For they sleep not, except they have done mischief; + And their sleep is taken away, unless they cause some to fall. + For they eat the bread of wickedness, + And drink the wine of violence. + + But the Path of the Righteous is as the light of dawn, + That shineth more and more unto the perfect day. + The way of the wicked is as darkness: + They know not at what they stumble. + +Proverbs, IV. + + + + +BERNARDO DEL CARPIO + +(The Spanish champion, Bernardo del Carpio, having made many ineffectual +efforts to procure the release of his father, the Count Saldana, who had +been imprisoned by King Alfonso, at last took up arms. The war proved so +destructive that the people demanded of the King, Saldana's liberty. +Alfonso offered Bernardo possession of his father's person in exchange +for his castle. Bernardo accepted the offer, gave up his castle, and +rode forth with the king to meet his father.) + + + The warrior bowed his crested head, and + tamed his heart of fire, + And sued the haughty king to free his + long-imprisoned sire: + "I bring thee here my fortress keys, I + bring my captive train, + I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord!--oh, + break my father's chain!" + + "Rise, rise! even now thy father comes + a ransomed man this day: + Mount thy good horse, and thou and I will + meet him on his way." + Then lightly rose that loyal son, and + bounded on his steed, + And urged, as if with lance in rest, the + charger's foamy speed. + + And lo! from far, as on they pressed, there + came a glittering band, + With one that midst them stately rode, as + a leader in the land; + "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, + in very truth, is he, + The father whom thy faithful heart hath + yearned so long to see." + + His dark eye flashed, his proud breast + heaved, his cheek's blood came and went, + He reached that gray-haired chieftain's + side, and there, dismounting, bent: + A lowly knee to earth he bent, his father's + hand he took,-- + What was there in its touch that all his + fiery spirit shook? + + That hand was cold--a frozen thing--it + dropped from his like lead: + He looked up to the face above--the face + was of the dead! + A plume waved o'er the noble brow--the + brow was fixed and white; + He met at last his father's eyes--but in + them was no sight! + + Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed, + but who could paint that gaze? + They hushed their very hearts, that saw + its horror and amaze; + They might have chained him, as before + that stony form he stood, + For the power was stricken from his arm, + and from his lip the blood. + + "Father!" at length he murmured low, and + wept like childhood, then-- + Talk not of grief till thou hast seen + the tears of warlike men!-- + He thought on all his glorious hopes, + and all his young renown,-- + He flung the falchion from his side, + and in the dust sat down. + + Then, covering with his steel-gloved + hands his darkly mournful brow, + "No more, there is no more," he said, + "to lift the sword for now. + My king is false, my hope betrayed, my + father--oh! the worth, + The glory and the loveliness, are passed + away from earth! + + "I thought to stand where banners waved, + my sire! beside thee yet-- + I would that _there_ our kindred + blood on Spain's free soil had met! + Thou wouldst have known my spirit then--for + thee my fields were won,-- + And thou hast perished in thy chains, as + though thou hadst no son!" + + Then, starting from the ground once more, + he seized the monarch's rein, + Amidst the pale and wildered looks of all + the courtier train; + And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, + the rearing war-horse led, + And sternly set them face to face--the + king before the dead!-- + + "Came I not forth upon thy pledge, my + father's hand to kiss?-- + Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! + and tell me what is this! + The voice, the glance, the heart I + sought--give answer, where are they?-- + If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, + send life through this cold clay! + + "Into these glassy eyes put light--be + still! keep down thine ire,-- + Bid these white lips a blessing speak--this + earth is _not_ my sire! + Give me back him for whom I strove, for + whom my blood was shed,-- + Thou canst not--and a king! His dust be + mountains on thy head!" + + He loosed the steed; his slack hand + fell--upon the silent face + He cast one long, deep, troubled look--then + turned from that sad place: + His hope was crushed, his after-fate untold + in martial strain,-- + His banner led the spears no more amidst + the hills of Spain. + +Felicia Hemans + + + + + --To thine own self be true; + And it must follow, as the night the day, + Thou canst not then be false to any man. + +Shakespeare + + + + +MOSES' BARGAINS + +"My second boy, Moses, whom I designed for business," says the vicar, +"received a sort of miscellaneous education at home." + + +As we were now to hold up our heads a little higher in the world, it +would be proper to sell the colt, which was grown old, at a neighbouring +fair, and buy us a horse that would carry single or double upon an +occasion, and make a pretty appearance at church or upon a visit. This +at first I opposed stoutly; but it was as stoutly defended. However, as +I weakened, my antagonists gained strength, till at last it was resolved +to part with him. + +As the fair happened on the following day, I had intentions of going +myself; but my wife persuaded me that I had got a cold, and nothing +could prevail upon her to permit me from home. + +"No, my dear," said she, "our son Moses is a discreet boy and can buy +and sell to very good advantage; you know all our great bargains are of +his purchasing. He always stands out and higgles, and actually tires +them till he gets a bargain." + +As I had some opinion of my son's prudence, I was willing enough to +intrust him with this commission; and the next morning I perceived his +sisters mighty busy in fitting out Moses for the fair--trimming his +hair, brushing his buckles, and cocking his hat with pins. + +The business of the toilet being over, we had at last the satisfaction +of seeing him mounted upon the colt, with a deal box before him to bring +home groceries in. He had on a coat made of that cloth they call thunder +and lightning, which, though grown too short, was much too good to be +thrown away. His waistcoat was of gosling green, and his sisters had +tied his hair with a broad black ribbon. We all followed him several +paces from the door, bawling after him: "Good luck, good luck!" till we +could see him no longer. + +As night came on, I began to wonder what could keep our son so long at +the fair. + +"Never mind our son," cried my wife, "depend upon it, he knows what he +is about. I'll warrant we'll never see him sell his hen of a rainy day. +I have seen him buy such bargains as would amaze one. I'll tell you a +good story about that, that will make you split your sides with +laughing. But, as I live, yonder comes Moses, without a horse, and the +box at his back." + +As she spoke, Moses came slowly on foot, and sweating under the deal +box, which he had strapped round his shoulders like a pedlar. + +"Welcome, welcome, Moses; well, my boy, what have you brought us from +the fair?" + +"I have brought you myself," cried Moses, with a sly look, and resting +the box on the dresser. + +"Ah, Moses," cried my wife, "that we know, but where is the horse?" + +"I have sold him," cried Moses, "for three pounds, five shillings, and +twopence." + +"Well done, my good boy," returned she, "I knew you would touch them +off. Between ourselves, three pounds, five shillings, and twopence is no +bad day's work. Come, let us have it then." + +"I have brought back no money," cried Moses again. "I have laid it all +out in a bargain, and here it is," pulling out a bundle from his breast: +"here they are, a gross of green spectacles, with silver rims and +shagreen cases." + +"A gross of green spectacles!" repeated my wife, in a faint voice. "And +you have parted with the colt and brought us back nothing but a gross of +green paltry spectacles!" + +"Dear mother," cried the boy, "why won't you listen to reason? I had +them a dead bargain, or I should not have bought them. The silver rims +will sell for double the money." + +"A fig for the silver rims!" cried my wife, in a passion. "I dare swear +they won't sell for above half the money at the rate of broken silver, +five shillings an ounce." + +"You need be under no uneasiness," cried I, "about selling the rims; for +they are not worth sixpence, for I perceive they are only copper +varnished over." + +"What," cried my wife, "not silver, the rims not silver!" + +"No," cried I, "no more silver than your sauce-pan." + +"And so," returned she, "we have parted with the colt, and have only got +a gross of green spectacles, with copper rims and shagreen cases! A +murrain take such trumpery! The blockhead has been imposed upon, and +should have known his company better." + +"There, my dear," cried I, "you are wrong; he should not have known them +at all." + +"Marry, hang the idiot," returned she, "to bring me such stuff; if I had +them, I would throw them into the fire." + +"There again you are wrong, my dear," cried I; "for though they be +copper, we will keep them by us, as copper spectacles, you know, are +better than nothing." + +By this time the unfortunate Moses was undeceived. He now saw that he +had been imposed upon by a prowling sharper, who, observing his figure, +had marked him for an easy prey. I therefore asked the circumstances of +his deception. He sold the horse, it seems, and walked the fair in +search of another. A reverend-looking man brought him to a tent, under +pretence of having one to sell. + +"Here," continued Moses, "we met another man, very well dressed, who +desired to borrow twenty pounds upon these, saying that he wanted money +and would dispose of them for a third of the value. The first gentleman, +who pretended to be my friend, whispered me to buy them, and cautioned +me not to let so good an offer pass. I sent for Mr. Flamborough, and +they talked him up as finely as they did me, and so at last we were +persuaded to buy the two gross between us." + +Goldsmith: "The Vicar of Wakefield." + + + + +THE MAPLE + + + Oh, tenderly deepen the woodland glooms, + And merrily sway the beeches; + Breathe delicately the willow blooms, + And the pines rehearse new speeches; + The elms toss high till they reach the sky, + Pale catkins the yellow birch launches, + But the tree I love all the greenwood above + Is the maple of sunny branches. + + Let who will sing of the hawthorn in spring, + Or the late-leaved linden in summer; + There's a word may be for the locust tree, + That delicate, strange new-comer; + But the maple it glows with the tint of the rose + When pale are the spring-time regions, + And its towers of flame from afar proclaim + The advance of Winter's legions. + + And a greener shade there never was made + Than its summer canopy sifted, + And many a day, as beneath it I lay, + Has my memory backward drifted + To a pleasant lane I may walk not again, + Leading over a fresh, green hill, + Where a maple stood just clear of the wood-- + And oh! to be near it still! + +Charles G. D. Roberts + + + + +THE GREENWOOD TREE + + + Under the greenwood tree + Who loves to lie with me, + And tune his merry note + Unto the sweet bird's throat, + Come hither, come hither, come hither; + Here shall he see + No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + + Who doth ambition shun + And loves to live i' the sun; + Seeking the food he eats, + And pleased with what he gets, + Come hither, come hither, come hither; + Here shall he see + No enemy + But winter and rough weather. + +Shakespeare + + + + +Believe me, thrift of time will repay you in after life with a usury of +profit beyond your most sanguine dreams, and the waste of it will make +you dwindle, alike in intellectual and moral stature, beyond your +darkest reckonings. + +Gladstone + + + + +LAKE SUPERIOR + + +Before turning our steps westward from this inland ocean, Lake Superior, +it will be well to pause a moment on its shore and look out over its +bosom. It is worth looking at, for the world possesses not its equal. +Four hundred English miles in length, one hundred and fifty miles in +breadth, six hundred feet above Atlantic level, nine hundred feet in +depth; one vast spring of purest crystal water, so cold that during +summer months its waters are like ice itself, and so clear that hundreds +of feet below the surface the rocks stand out as distinctly as though +seen through plate-glass. Follow in fancy the outpourings of this +wonderful basin; seek its future course in Huron, Erie, and Ontario--in +that wild leap from the rocky ledge which makes Niagara famous through +the world. Seek it farther still--in the quiet loveliness of the +Thousand Isles, in the whirl and sweep of the Cedar Rapids, in the +silent rush of the great current under the rocks at the foot of Quebec. +Ay, and even farther away still--down where the lone Laurentian Hills +come forth to look again upon that water whose earliest beginnings they +cradled along the shores of Lake Superior. There, close to the sounding +billows of the Atlantic, two thousand miles from Superior, these +hills--the only ones that ever last--guard the great gate by which the +St. Lawrence seeks the sea. + +There are rivers whose currents, running red with the silt and mud of +their soft alluvial shores, carry far into the ocean the record of their +muddy progress; but this glorious river system, through its many lakes +and various names, is ever the same crystal current, flowing pure from +the fountain-head of Lake Superior. Great cities stud its shores; but +they are powerless to dim the transparency of its waters. Steam-ships +cover the broad bosom of its lakes and estuaries; but they change not +the beauty of the water, no more than the fleets of the world mark the +waves of the ocean. Any person looking at a map of the region bounding +the great lakes of North America will be struck by the absence of rivers +flowing into Lakes Superior, Michigan, or Huron, from the south--in +fact, the drainage of the States bordering these lakes on the south is +altogether carried off by the valley of the Mississippi. It follows that +this valley of the Mississippi is at a much lower level than the surface +of the lakes. These lakes, containing an area of some seventy-three +thousand square miles, are therefore an immense reservoir held high over +the level of the great Mississippi valley, from which they are separated +by a barrier of slight elevation and extent. + +Major W. F. Butler: "The Great Lone Land." + + + + +THE RED RIVER PLAIN + + +The plain through which Red River flows is fertile beyond description. +At a little distance it seems one vast level plain, through which the +windings of the river are marked by a dark line of woods fringing the +whole length of the stream. Each tributary has also its line of +forest,--a line visible many miles away over the great sea of grass. As +one travels on, there first rise above the prairie the tops of the +trees; these gradually grow larger, until finally, after many hours, the +river is reached. Nothing else breaks the uniform level. Standing upon +the ground, the eye ranges over many miles of grass; standing on a +wagon, one doubles the area of vision; and to look over the plains from +an elevation of twelve feet above the earth, is to survey at a glance a +space so vast that distance alone seems to bound its limits. The effect +of sunset over these oceans of verdure is very beautiful. A thousand +hues spread themselves upon the grassy plains, a thousand tints of gold +are cast along the heavens, and the two oceans of the sky and of the +earth intermingle in one great blaze of glory at the very gates of the +setting sun. But to speak of sunsets now is only to anticipate. Here, at +the Red River, we are only at the threshold of the sunset; its true home +lies yet many days' journey to the west--there, where the long shadows +of the vast herds of bison (used to) trail slowly over the immense +plains, huge and dark against the golden west--there, where the red man +still sees, in the glory of the setting sun, the realization of his +dream of heaven. + +Major W. F. Butler: "The Great Lone Land." + + + + +As every action is capable of a peculiar dignity in the manner of it, so +also it is capable of dignity still higher in the motive of it. There is +no action so slight, nor so mean, but it may be done to a great purpose, +and ennobled therefore; nor is any purpose so great but that slight +actions may help it, and may be so done as to help it much, most +especially that chief of all purposes, the pleasing of God. + +Ruskin + + + + +THE UNNAMED LAKE + + + It sleeps among the thousand hills + Where no man ever trod, + And only nature's music fills + The silences of God. + + Great mountains tower above its shore, + Green rushes fringe its brim, + And o'er its breast for evermore + The wanton breezes skim. + + Dark clouds that intercept the sun + Go there in Spring to weep, + And there, when Autumn days are done, + White mists lie down to sleep. + + Sunrise and sunset crown with gold + The peaks of ageless stone, + Where winds have thundered from of old + And storms have set their throne. + + No echoes of the world afar + Disturb it night or day, + But sun and shadow, moon and star, + Pass and repass for aye. + + 'Twas in the gray of early dawn + When first the lake we spied, + And fragments of a cloud were drawn + Half down the mountain side. + + Along the shore a heron flew, + And from a speck on high, + That hovered in the deepening blue, + We heard the fish-hawk's cry. + + Among the cloud-capt solitudes, + No sound the silence broke, + Save when, in whispers down the woods, + The guardian mountains spoke. + + Through tangled brush and dewy brake, + Returning whence we came, + We passed in silence, and the lake + We left without a name. + +F. G. Scott + + + + +We are not sent into this world to do anything into which we cannot put +our hearts. We have certain work to do for our bread, and that is to be +done strenuously; other work to do for our delight, and that is to be +done heartily; neither is to be done by halves or shifts, but with a +will. + +Ruskin + + + + +LIFE IN NORMAN ENGLAND + + +The tall, frowning keep and solid walls of the great stone castles, in +which the Norman barons lived, betokened an age of violence and +suspicion. Beauty gave way to the needs of safety. Girdled with a green +and slimy ditch, round the inner side of which ran a parapeted wall +pierced along the top with shot-holes, stood the buildings, spreading +often over many acres. + +If an enemy managed to cross the moat and force the gateway, in spite of +a portcullis crashing from above, and melted lead pouring in burning +streams from the perforated top of the rounded arch, but little of his +work was yet done; for the keep lifted its huge angular block of masonry +within the inner bailey or courtyard, and from the narrow chinks in its +ten-foot wall rained a sharp incessant shower of arrows, sweeping all +approaches to the high and narrow stair, by which alone access could be +had to its interior. + +These loopholes were the only windows, except in the topmost story, +where the chieftain, like a vulture in his rocky nest, watched all the +surrounding country. The day of splendid oriels had not yet come in +castle architecture. Thus a baron in his keep could defy, and often did +defy, the king upon his throne. Under his roof, eating daily at his +board, lived a throng of armed retainers; and around his castle lay +farms tilled by martial franklins, who at his call laid aside their +implements of husbandry, took up the sword and spear, which they could +wield with equal skill, and marched beneath his banner to the war. + +The furniture of a Norman keep was not unlike that of an English house. +There was richer ornament--more elaborate carving. A _faldestol_, the +original of our arm-chair, spread its drapery and cushions for the +chieftain in his lounging moods. His bed now boasted curtains and a +roof, although, like the English lord, he still lay only upon straw. +Chimneys tunnelled the thick walls, and the cupboards glittered with +glass and silver. Horn lanterns and the old spiked candle-sticks lit up +his evening hours, when the chess-board arrayed its clumsy men, carved +out of walrus-tusk, then commonly called whale's-bone. But the baron had +an unpleasant trick of breaking the chess-board on his opponent's head, +when he found himself checkmated; which somewhat marred that player's +enjoyment of the game. Dice of horn and bone emptied many a purse in +Norman England. Draughts were also sometimes played. + +Dance and music whiled away the long winter nights; and on summer +evenings the castle courtyards resounded with the noise of football, +wrestling, boxing, leaping, and the fierce joys of the bull-bait. But +out of doors, when no fighting was on hand, the hound, the hawk, and the +lance attracted the best energies and skill of the Norman gentleman. + +The Normans probably dined at nine in the morning. When they rose they +took a light meal; and ate something also after their day's work, +immediately before going to bed. Goose and garlic formed a favourite +dish. Their cookery was more elaborate, and, in comparison, more +delicate, than the preparations for an English feast; but the character +for temperance, which they brought with them from the continent, soon +vanished. + +The poorer classes hardly ever ate flesh, living principally on bread, +butter, and cheese; a fact in social life which seems to underlie that +usage of our tongue by which the living animals in field or stall bore +English names--ox, sheep, calf, pig, deer; while their flesh, promoted +to Norman dishes, rejoiced in names of French origin--beef, mutton, +veal, pork, venison. Round cakes, piously marked with a cross, piled the +tables, on which pastry of various kinds also appeared. In good houses +cups of glass held the wine, which was borne from the cellar below in +jugs. + +Squatted around the door or on the stairs leading to the Norman +dining-hall, which was often on an upper floor, was a crowd of beggars +or gluttons, who grew so insolent in the days of Rufus, that ushers, +armed with rods, were posted outside to beat back the noisy throng, who +thought little of snatching the dishes as the cooks carried them to +table! + +The juggler, who under the Normans filled the place of the English +gleeman, tumbled, sang, and balanced knives in the hall; or, out in the +bailey of an afternoon, displayed the acquirements of his trained monkey +or bear. The fool, too, clad in coloured patchwork, cracked his ribald +jests and shook his cap and bells at the elbow of roaring barons, when +the board was spread and the circling of the wine began. + +Monasteries served many useful purposes at this time. Besides their +manifest value as centres of study and literary work, they gave alms to +the poor, a supper and a bed to travellers; their tenants were better +off and better treated than the tenants of the nobles; the monks could +store grain, grow apples, and cultivate their flower-beds with little +risk of injury from war, because they had spiritual penalties at their +call, which usually awed even the most reckless of the soldiery into a +respect for sacred property. + +As schools, too, the monasteries did no trifling service to society in +the Middle Ages. In addition to their influence as great centres of +learning, English law had enjoined every mass-priest to keep a school in +his parish church where all the young committed to his care might be +instructed. The youth of the middle classes, destined for the cloister +or the merchant's stall, chiefly thronged these schools. The aristocracy +cared little for book-learning. Very few indeed of the barons could read +or write. But all could ride, fence, tilt, play at cards, and carve +extremely well; for to these accomplishments many years of pagehood and +squirehood were given. + +W. F. Collier, (Adapted) + + + + +Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, These three alone lead +life to sovereign power. + +Tennyson + + + + +YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND + + + Ye mariners of England + That guard our native seas, + Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, + The battle and the breeze! + Your glorious standard launch again + To match another foe: + And sweep through the deep, + While the stormy winds do blow; + While the battle rages loud and long, + And the stormy winds do blow. + + The spirits of your fathers + Shall start from every wave-- + For the deck it was their field of fame, + And Ocean was their grave: + Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell + Your manly hearts shall glow, + As ye sweep through the deep, + While the stormy winds do blow; + While the battle rages loud and long, + And the stormy winds do blow. + + Britannia needs no bulwarks, + No towers along the steep; + Her march is o'er the mountain waves, + Her home is on the deep. + With thunders from her native oak + She quells the floods below-- + As they roar on the shore, + When the stormy winds do blow; + When the battle rages loud and long, + And the stormy winds do blow. + + The meteor flag of England + Shall yet terrific burn, + Till danger's troubled night depart + And the star of peace return. + Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! + Our song and feast shall flow + To the fame of your name, + When the storm has ceased to blow; + When the fiery fight is heard no more, + And the storm has ceased to blow. + +Thomas Campbell + + + + + It is the land that freemen till; + That sober-suited Freedom chose, + The Land, where girt with friends or foes + A man may speak the thing he will; + A land of settled government, + A land of old and just renown, + Where freedom broadens slowly down + From precedent to precedent. + +Tennyson + + + + +INSTRUCTION + + +Hear, ye children, the instruction of a father, and attend to know +understanding. Get wisdom, get understanding: forget it not; neither +decline from the words of my mouth. Forsake her not, and she shall +preserve thee: love her, and she shall keep thee. Wisdom is the +principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get +understanding. Exalt her, and she shall promote thee: she shall bring +thee to honour, when thou dost embrace her. She shall give to thine head +an ornament of grace: a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee. + +My son, attend to my words; incline thine ear unto my sayings. Let them +not depart from thine eyes; keep them in the midst of thine heart. For +they are life unto those that find them and health to all their flesh. +Keep thy heart with all diligence; for out of it are the issues of life. +Put away from thee a froward mouth, and perverse lips put far from thee. +Let thine eyes look right on, and let thine eyelids look straight before +thee. Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established. +Turn not to the right hand nor to the left: remove thy foot from evil. + +Proverbs, IV. + + + + +HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD + + + Oh, to be in England + Now that April's there, + And whoever wakes in England + Sees, some morning, unaware, + That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf + Round the elm tree bole are in tiny leaf, + While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough + In England--now! + + And after April, when May follows, + And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows! + Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge + Leans to the field and scatters on the clover + Blossoms and dewdrops--at the bent spray's edge-- + That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, + Lest you should think he never could recapture + The first fine careless rapture! + And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, + All will be gay when noontide wakes anew + The buttercups, the little children's dower, + --Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! + +Browning + + + + +THE BELLS OF SHANDON + + + With deep affection and recollection + I often think of those Shandon bells, + Whose sounds so wild would, in the days of childhood, + Fling round my cradle their magic spells. + On this I ponder where'er I wander, + And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee; + With thy bells of Shandon that sound so grand on + The pleasant waters of the River Lee. + + I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in, + Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine; + While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate;-- + But all their music spoke naught like thine. + For memory dwelling on each proud swelling + Of thy belfry knelling its bold notes free, + Made the bells of Shandon sound far more grand on + The pleasant waters of the River Lee. + + I've heard bells tolling old Adrian's Mole in, + Their thunder rolling from the Vatican; + And cymbals glorious swinging uproarious + In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame. + But thy sounds were sweeter than the dome of Peter + Flings o'er the Tiber, pealing solemnly; + O, the bells of Shandon sound far more grand on + The pleasant waters of the River Lee. + + There's a bell in Moscow; while on tower and kiosk O! + In Saint Sophia the Turkman gets, + And loud in air calls men to prayer + From the tapering summits of tall minarets. + Such empty phantom I freely grant them; + But there's an anthem more dear to me; + 'Tis the bells of Shandon that sound so grand on + The pleasant waters of the River Lee. + +Francis Mahony + + + + +The man whom I call worthy of the name, is one whose thoughts and +exertions are for others rather than for himself; whose high purpose is +adopted on just principles, and is never abandoned while heaven or earth +affords means of accomplishing it. He is one who will neither seek an +indirect advantage by a specious road, nor take an evil path to secure a +really good purpose. + +Scott + + + + +THE VISION OF MIRZAH + + +When I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several Oriental manuscripts, +which I have still by me. Among others, I met with one entitled, "_The +Visions of Mirzah_," which I have read over with great pleasure. I +intend to give it to the public when I have no other entertainment for +them; and shall begin with the first Vision, which I have translated +word for word, as follows:-- + +"On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my +forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed myself, and offered +up my morning devotions, I ascended the high hills of Bagdat, in order +to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was here +airing myself on the tops of the mountains, I fell into a profound +contemplation on the vanity of human life; and passing from one thought +to another, 'Surely,' said I, 'man is but a shadow, and life a dream.' + +"Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the summit of a rock +that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of a +shepherd, with a little musical instrument in his hand. As I looked +upon him, he applied it to his lips, and began to play upon it. The +sound of it was exceeding sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes +that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different from +anything I had ever heard. They put me in mind of those heavenly airs +that are played to the departed souls of good men upon their first +arrival in paradise, to wear out the impressions of the last agonies, +and qualify them for the pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted +away in secret raptures. + +"I had been often told that the rock before me was the haunt of a +genius; and that several had been entertained with music who had passed +by it, but never heard that the musician had before made himself +visible. When he had raised my thoughts by those transporting airs which +he played, to taste the pleasures of his conversation, as I looked upon +him like one astonished, thereupon he beckoned to me and, by the waving +of his hand, directed me to approach the place where he sat. + +"I drew near with that reverence which is due to a superior nature; and +as my heart was entirely subdued by the captivating strains I had heard, +I fell down at his feet and wept. The Genius smiled upon me with a look +of compassion and affability that familiarized him to my imagination, +and at once dispelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I +approached him. He lifted me from the ground, and taking me by the hand, +'Mirzah,' said he, 'I have heard thee in thy soliloquies; follow me.' + +"He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placing me on +the top of it, 'Cast thy eyes eastward,' said he, 'and tell me what thou +seest.' 'I see,' said I, 'a huge valley, and a prodigious tide of water +rolling through it.' 'The valley that thou seest,' said he, 'is the Vale +of Misery, and the Tide of Water that thou seest is part of the great +Tide of Eternity,' 'What is the reason,' said I, 'that the tide I see +rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a thick +mist at the other?' 'What thou seest,' said he, 'is that portion of +eternity which is called Time, measured out by the sun, and reaching +from the beginning of the world to its consummation.' + +"'Examine now,' said he, 'this sea that is bounded with darkness at both +ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it.' 'I see a bridge,' said +I, 'standing in the midst of the tide.' 'The bridge thou seest,' said +he, 'is Human Life; consider it attentively.' Upon a more leisurely +survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire +arches, with several broken arches, which, added to those that were +entire, made up the number about an hundred. As I was counting the +arches, the Genius told me that this bridge had consisted at first of a +thousand arches; but that a great flood swept away the rest and left the +bridge in the ruinous condition I now beheld it. + +"'But tell me further,' said he, 'what thou discoverest on it.' 'I see +multitudes of people passing over it,' said I, 'and a black cloud +hanging on each end of it.' As I looked more attentively, I saw several +of the passengers dropping through the bridge, into the great tide that +flowed underneath it; and, upon further examination, perceived that +there were innumerable trap-doors that lay concealed in the bridge, +which the passengers no sooner trod upon, but they fell through them +into the tide and immediately disappeared. + +"These hidden pitfalls were set very thick at the entrance of the +bridge, so that the throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud, +but many of them fell into them. They grew thinner towards the middle, +but multiplied and lay closer together towards the end of the arches +that were entire. + +"There were indeed some persons, but their numbers were very small, that +continued a kind of hobbling march on the broken arches, but fell +through one after another, being quite tired and spent with so long a +walk. + +"I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonderful structure, +and the great variety of objects which it presented. My heart was filled +with a deep melancholy to see several dropping unexpectedly in the midst +of mirth and jollity, and catching at everything that stood by them to +save themselves. + +"Some were looking up towards the heavens in a thoughtful posture, and, +in the midst of a speculation, stumbled and fell out of sight. +Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles that glittered in +their eyes and danced before them; but often, when they thought +themselves within reach of them, their footing failed and down they +sunk. + +"In this confusion of objects, I observed some with scymetars in their +hands, who ran to and fro upon the bridge, thrusting several persons on +trap-doors which did not seem to lie in their way, and which they might +have escaped had they not been thus forced upon them. + +"The Genius, seeing me indulge myself on this melancholy prospect, told +me that I had dwelt long enough upon it: 'Take thine eyes off the +bridge,' said he, 'and tell me if thou yet seest anything thou dost not +comprehend.' Upon looking up, 'What mean,' said I, 'those great flights +of birds that are perpetually hovering about the bridge and settling +upon it from time to time? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants, +and, among many other feathered creatures, several little winged boys +that perch in great numbers upon the middle arches.' 'These,' said the +Genius, 'are envy, avarice, superstition, despair, love, with the like +cares and passions that infest human life.' + +"I here fetched a deep sigh, 'Alas,' said I, 'man was made in vain! How +is he given away to misery and mortality! tortured in life, and +swallowed up in death.' + +"The Genius, being moved with compassion towards me, bid me quit so +uncomfortable a prospect: 'Look no more,' said he, 'on man in the first +stage of his existence, in his setting out for eternity; but cast thine +eye on that thick mist into which the tide bears the several +generations of mortals that fall into it.' + +"I directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no the good +Genius strengthened it with any supernatural force, or dissipated part +of the mist that was before too thick for the eye to penetrate) I saw +the valley opening at the farther end and spreading forth into an +immense ocean, that had a huge rock of adamant running through the midst +of it and dividing it into two equal parts. + +"The clouds still rested on one half of it, insomuch that I could +discover nothing in it; but the other appeared to me a vast ocean, +planted with innumerable islands that were covered with fruits and +flowers and interwoven with a thousand little shining seas that ran +among them. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits with garlands +upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down by the side of +fountains, or resting on beds of flowers; and could hear a confused +harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, and musical +instruments. + +"Gladness grew in me upon the discovery of so delightful a scene. I +wished for the wings of an eagle, that I might fly away to those happy +seats; but the Genius told me there was no passage to them, except +through the gates of Death, which I saw opening every moment upon the +bridge. + +"'The islands,' said he, 'that lie so fresh and green before thee, and +with which the whole face of the ocean appears spotted as far as thou +canst see, are more in number than the sands on the sea-shore: there are +myriads of islands behind those which thou here discoverest, reaching +farther than thine eye or even thine imagination can extend itself. +These are the mansions of good men after death, who, according to the +degree and kinds of virtue in which they excelled, are distributed among +these several islands, which abound with pleasures of different kinds +and degrees, suitable to the relishes and perfections of those who are +settled in them: every island is a paradise accommodated to its +respective inhabitants. Are not these, O Mirzah, habitations worth +contending for? Does life appear miserable, that gives thee +opportunities of earning such a reward? Is death to be feared, that will +convey thee to so happy an existence? Think not man was made in vain, +who has such an eternity reserved for him.' + +"I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on these happy islands. At length, +I said: 'Show me now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under +those dark clouds which cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of +adamant.' + +"The Genius making me no answer, I turned about to address myself to him +a second time, but found that he had left me; I then turned again to the +Vision which I had been so long contemplating; but instead of the +rolling tide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing +but the long, hollow valley of Bagdat, with oxen, sheep, and camels +grazing upon the sides of it." + +Addison: "The Spectator, No. 159." + + + + +FORBEARANCE + + + Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? + Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? + At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? + Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? + And loved so well a high behaviour, + In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, + Nobility more nobly to repay? + O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! + +Emerson + + + + +MERCY TO ANIMALS + + + I would not enter on my list of friends + (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, + Yet wanting sensibility) the man + Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. + An inadvertent step may crush the snail + That crawls at evening in the public path; + But he that has humanity, forewarned, + Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. + The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, + And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes + A visitor unwelcome into scenes + Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove, + The chamber, or refectory, may die. + A necessary act incurs no blame. + The sum is this: if man's convenience, health, + Or safety interfere, his rights and claims + Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. + Else they are all--the meanest things that are-- + As free to live, and to enjoy that life, + As God was free to form them at the first, + Who in His sovereign wisdom made them all. + Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons + To love it, too. + +Cowper + + + + +THE UNITED EMPIRE LOYALISTS + + +The Americans inaugurated their Declaration of Independence by enacting +that all the United Empire Loyalists--that is the adherents to +connection with the mother country--were rebels and traitors; they +followed the recognition of Independence by England with an order +exiling such adherents from their territories. But while this policy +depleted the United States of some of their best blood, it laid the +foundation of the settlement and the institutions of the country which +has since become the great, free, and prosperous Dominion of Canada. + +Upper Canada was then unknown, or known only as a region of dense +wilderness and swamps; of venomous reptiles and beasts of prey; of +numerous and fierce Indian tribes; of intense cold in winter; and with +no redeeming feature except abundance of game and fish. + +After the war of Independence, many Loyalists went to Nova Scotia and +New Brunswick and settled there. The British Commander of New York, +having found out that Upper Canada was capable of supporting a numerous +population along the great river and the lakes, undertook to send +colonies of Loyalists there. + +Five vessels were procured and furnished to convey the first colony from +New York. They sailed round the coasts of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, +and up the St. Lawrence to Sorel, where they arrived in October, 1783. +Here they wintered, having built themselves huts, or shanties, and in +May, 1784, they continued their voyage in boats, and reached their +destination, Cataraqui, afterwards Kingston, in the month of July. + +Other bands of Loyalists came by land over the military highway to Lower +Canada, as far as Plattsburg, and then northward to Cornwall and up the +St. Lawrence, along the north side of which many of them settled. + +But the most common route was by way of the Hudson and the Mohawk +Rivers, through Oneida Lake and down the Oswego River to Lake Ontario. +Flat-bottomed boats, specially built or purchased for the purpose by the +Loyalists, were used in this journey. The portages, over which the boats +had to be hauled and all their contents carried, are said to have been +thirty miles long. + +On reaching Oswego, some of the Loyalists coasted along the eastern +shore of Lake Ontario to Kingston, and thence up the Bay of Quinte; +others went westward along the south shore of the lake to Niagara and +Queenston. Some conveyed their boats over the portage of ten or twelve +miles to Chippewa, thence up the river and into Lake Erie, settling +chiefly in what was called "Long Point Country," now the County of +Norfolk. + +This journey of hardship, privation, and exposure occupied from two to +three months. The obstacles encountered may readily be imagined in a +country where the primeval forest covered the earth, and where the only +path was the river or the lake. The parents and family of the writer of +this history were from the middle of May to the middle of July making +the journey in an open boat. Generally two or more families would unite +in one company, and thus assist each other in carrying their boats and +goods over the portages. + +"These excellent men," wrote Sir Richard Bonnycastle, "were willing to +sacrifice life and fortune rather than forego the enviable distinction +of being British subjects." The stern adherence of the Pilgrim Fathers +to their principles was quite equalled by the stern adherence of the +Loyalists to their principles; but the privations and hardships +experienced by many of the Loyalist patriots for years after the first +settlement in Canada were much more severe than anything experienced by +the Puritans during the first years of their settlement in +Massachusetts. + +Canada has, indeed, a noble parentage, the remembrance of which its +inhabitants may well cherish with respect, affection, and pride. + +Egerton Ryerson: "The Loyalists of America and their Times." (Adapted) + + +[Illustration: EGERTON RYERSON] + + + + +OFT, IN THE STILLY NIGHT + + + Oft, in the stilly night, + Ere slumber's chain has bound me, + Fond Memory brings the light + Of other days around me; + The smiles, the tears, + Of boyhood's years, + The words of love then spoken; + The eyes that shone, + Now dimmed and gone, + The cheerful hearts now broken! + Thus, in the stilly night, + Ere slumber's chain has bound me, + Sad Memory brings the light + Of other days around me. + + When I remember all + The friends, so linked together, + I've seen around me fall, + Like leaves in wintry weather; + I feel like one, + Who treads alone + Some banquet-hall deserted, + Whose lights are fled, + Whose garlands dead, + And all but he departed! + Thus, in the stilly night, + Ere slumber's chain has bound me, + Sad Memory brings the light + Of other days around me. + +Moore + + + + +THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS + + + The harp that once through Tara's halls + The soul of music shed, + Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls + As if that soul were fled. + So sleeps the pride of former days, + So glory's thrill is o'er, + And hearts that once beat high for praise, + Now feel that pulse no more. + + No more to chiefs and ladies bright + The harp of Tara swells; + The chord alone, that breaks at night, + Its tale of ruin tells. + Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, + The only throb she gives, + Is when some heart indignant breaks, + To show that still she lives. + +Moore + + + + +HUDSON STRAIT + + +Hudson Strait opens from the Atlantic between Resolution Island on the +north and the Button Islands on the south. From point to point, this end +of the strait is forty-five miles wide. At the other end, the west side, +between Digges' Island and Nottingham Island, is a distance of +thirty-five miles. From east to west, the straits are four hundred and +fifty miles long--wider at the east where the south side is known as +Ungava Bay, contracting at the west, to the Upper Narrows. The south +side of the strait is Labrador; the north, Baffin's Land. Both sides are +lofty, rocky, cavernous shores lashed by a tide that rises in places as +high as thirty-five feet and runs in calm weather ten miles an hour. +Pink granite islands dot the north shore in groups that afford +harbourage, but all shores present an adamant front, edges sharp as a +knife or else rounded hard to have withstood and cut the tremendous ice +jam of a floating world suddenly contracted to forty miles, which Davis +Strait pours down at the east end and Fox Channel at the west. + +Seven hundred feet is considered a good-sized hill; one thousand feet, a +mountain. Both the north and the south sides of the straits rise two +thousand feet in places. Through these rock walls ice has poured and +torn and ripped a way since the ice age preceding history, cutting a +great channel to the Atlantic. Here, the iron walls suddenly break to +secluded silent valleys, moss-padded, snow-edged, lonely as the day +Earth first saw light. Down these valleys pour the clear streams of the +eternal snows, burnished as silver against the green, setting the +silence echoing with the tinkle of cataracts over some rock wall, or +filling the air with the voice of many waters at noontide thaw. One old +navigator--Coates--describes the beat of the angry tide at the rock base +and the silver voice of the mountain brooks, like the treble and bass of +some great cathedral organ sounding its diapason to the glory of God in +this peopleless wilderness. + +Perhaps the kyacks of some solitary Eskimo, lashed abreast twos and +threes to prevent capsizing, may shoot out from some of these +bog-covered valleys like sea-birds; but it is only when the Eskimos +happen to be hunting here, or the ships of the whalers and fur traders +are passing up and down--that there is any sign of human habitation on +the straits. + +Walrus wallow on the pink granite islands in huge herds. Polar bears +flounder from icepan to icepan. The arctic hare, white as snow but for +the great bulging black eye, bounds over the boulders. Snow buntings, +whistling swans, snow geese, ducks in myriads--flacker and clacker and +hold solemn conclave on the adjoining rocks, as though this were their +realm from the beginning and for all time. + +Of a tremendous depth are the waters of the straits. Not for nothing has +the ice world been grinding through this narrow channel for billions of +years. No fear of shoals to the mariner. Fear is of another sort. When +the ice is running in a whirlpool and the incoming tide meets the ice +jam and the waters mount thirty-five feet high and a wind roars between +the high shores like a bellows--then it is that the straits roll and +pitch and funnel their waters into black troughs where the ships go +down. "Undertow," the old Hudson's Bay captains called the suck of the +tide against the ice wall; and that black hole, where the lumpy billows +seemed to part like a passage between wall of ice and wall of water, was +what the mariners feared. The other great danger was just a plain crush, +getting nipped between two icepans rearing and plunging like fighting +stallions, with the ice blocks going off like pistol shots or smashed +glass. No child's play is such navigating either for the old sailing +vessels of the fur traders or the modern ice-breakers propelled by +steam! Yet, the old sailing vessels and the whaling fleets have +navigated these straits for two hundred years. + +Agnes C. Laut: "The Conquest of the Great Northwest." + + + + + Good name in man and woman, + Is the immediate jewel of their souls: + Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; + 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; + But he that filches from me my good name + Robs me of that which not enriches him, + And makes me poor indeed. + +Shakespeare + + + + +SCOTS WHA HAE + + + Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, + Scots, wham Bruce has aften led; + Welcome to your gory bed, + Or to victorie. + Now's the day, and now's the hour; + See the front o' battle lour: + See approach proud Edward's power-- + Chains and slaverie! + + Wha will be a traitor knave? + Wha can fill a coward's grave? + Wha sae base as be a slave? + Let him turn and flee! + Wha for Scotland's King and law + Freedom's sword will strongly draw, + Free-man stand, or free-man fa', + Let him follow me! + + By Oppression's woes and pains! + By your sons in servile chains, + We will drain our dearest veins, + But they shall be free! + Lay the proud usurpers low! + Tyrants fall in every foe! + Liberty's in every blow! + Let us do, or die! + +Burns + + + + +ST. AMBROSE CREW WIN THEIR FIRST RACE + +(The chief characters in this sketch are Miller, the tyrannical little +cockswain of the crew; old Jervis, the captain; Tom Brown, number two, +who is rowing his first race; Hardy, a friend of Tom's and one of the +best oarsmen in the college--also Jack, the college dog. Though there +are several crews in the race the real struggle is between the boats +from St. Ambrose and Exeter Colleges. If St. Ambrose can drive the nose +of its boat against the Exeter boat--"bump it"--it wins.) + + +Hark!--the first gun. The report sent Tom's heart into his mouth again. +Several of the boats pushed off at once into the stream; and the crowds +of men on the bank began to be agitated, as it were, by the shadow of +the coming excitement. The St. Ambrose fingered their oars, put a last +dash of grease on their rowlocks, and settled their feet against the +stretchers. + +"Shall we push her off?" asked Bow. + +"No; I can give you another minute," said Miller, who was sitting, watch +in hand, in the stern; "only be smart when I give the word." + +The captain turned on his seat, and looked up the boat. His face was +quiet, but full of confidence, which seemed to pass from him into the +crew. Tom felt calmer and stronger, as he met his eye. "Now mind, boys, +don't quicken," he said, cheerily; "four short strokes to get way on +her, and then, steady. Here, pass up the lemon." + +And he took a sliced lemon out of his pocket, put a small piece in his +own mouth, and then handed it to Blake, who followed his example, and +passed it on. Each man took a piece; and just as Bow had secured the +end, Miller called out,-- + +"Now, jackets off, and get her head out steadily." + +The jackets were thrown on shore, and gathered up by the boatman in +attendance. The crew poised their oars, Number Two pushing out her head, +and the captain doing the same for the stern. Miller took the +starting-rope in his hand. + +"How the wind catches her stern," he said; "here, pay out the rope one +of you. No, not you--some fellow with a strong hand. Yes, you'll do," he +went on, as Hardy stepped down the bank and took hold of the rope; "let +me have it foot by foot as I want it. Not too quick; make the most of +it--that'll do. Two and Three, just dip your oars in to give her way." + +The rope paid out steadily, and the boat settled to her place. But now +the wind rose again, and the stern drifted in towards the bank. + +"You _must_ back her a bit, Miller, and keep her a little further out or +our oars on stroke side will catch the bank." + +"So I see; curse the wind. Back her, one stroke all. Back her, I say!" +shouted Miller. + +It is no easy matter to get a crew to back her an inch just now, +particularly as there are in her two men who have never rowed a race +before, except in the torpids, and one who has never rowed a race in his +life. + +However, back she comes; the starting-rope slackens in Miller's left +hand, and the stroke, unshipping his oar, pushes the stern gently out +again. + +There goes the second gun! one short minute more, and we are off. Short +minute, indeed! you wouldn't say so if you were in the boat, with your +heart in your mouth and trembling all over like a man with the palsy. +Those sixty seconds before the starting-gun in your first race--why, +they are a little lifetime. + +"By Jove, we are drifting in again," said Miller, in horror. The captain +looked grim but said nothing; it was too late now for him to be +unshipping again. "Here, catch hold of the long boat-hook and fend her +off." + +Hardy, to whom this was addressed, seized the boat-hook, and, standing +with one foot in the water, pressed the end of the boat-hook against the +gunwale, at the full stretch of his arm, and so, by main force, kept the +stern out. There was just room for stroke oars to dip, and that was all. +The starting-rope was as taut as a harp-string; will Miller's left hand +hold out? + +It is an awful moment. But the coxswain, though almost dragged backwards +off his seat, is equal to the occasion. He holds his watch in his right +hand with the tiller rope. "Eight seconds more only. Look out for the +flash. Remember, all eyes in the boat." + +There it comes, at last--the flash of the starting-gun. Long before the +sound of the report can roll up the river, the whole pent-up life and +energy which has been held in leash, as it were, for the last six +minutes, is loose, and breaks away with a bound and a dash which he who +has felt it will remember for his life, but the like of which, will he +ever feel again? The starting-ropes drop from the coxswains' hands, the +oars flash into the water and gleam on the feather, the spray flies from +them, and the boats leap forward. + +The crowds on the bank scatter and rush along, each keeping as near as +may be to its own boat. Some of the men on the towing-path, some on the +very edge of, often in, the water; some slightly in advance, as if they +could help to drag their boat forward; some behind, where they can see +the pulling better; but all at full speed, in wild excitement, and +shouting at the top of their voices to those on whom the honour of the +college is laid. + +"Well pulled, all!" "Pick her up there, Five!" "You're gaining every +stroke!" "Time in the bows!" "Bravo, St. Ambrose!" + +On they rushed by the side of the boats, jostling one another, +stumbling, struggling, and panting along. + +For a quarter of a mile along the bank the glorious, maddening +hurly-burly extends, and rolls up the side of the stream. + +For the first ten strokes Tom was in too great fear of making a mistake +to feel or hear or see. His whole soul was glued to the back of the man +before him, his one thought to keep time and get his strength into the +stroke. But, as the crew settled down into the well-known long sweep, +what we may call consciousness returned; and, while every muscle in his +body was straining, and his chest heaved, and his heart leaped, every +nerve seemed to be gathering new life, and his senses to wake into +unwonted acuteness. He caught the scent of wild thyme in the air, and +found room in his brain to wonder how it could have got there, as he had +never seen the plant near the river, or smelt it before. Though his eye +never wandered from the back of Diogenes, he seemed to see all things at +once. The boat behind, which seemed to be gaining;--it was all he could +do to prevent himself from quickening on the stroke as he fancied +that;--the eager face of Miller, with his compressed lips, and eyes +fixed so earnestly ahead that Tom could almost feel the glance passing +over his right shoulder; the flying banks and the shouting crowd; see +them with his bodily eyes he could not, but he knew, nevertheless, that +Grey had been upset and nearly rolled down the bank into the water in +the first hundred yards, that Jack was bounding and scrambling and +barking along by the very edge of the stream; above all, he was just as +well aware as if he had been looking at it, of a stalwart form in cap +and gown, bounding along, brandishing the long boat-hook, and always +keeping just opposite the boat; and amid all the Babel of voices, and +the dash and pulse of the stroke, and the labouring of his own +breathing, he heard Hardy's voice coming to him again and again, and +clear as if there had been no other sound in the air, "Steady, Two! +steady! well pulled! steady, steady." The voice seemed to give him +strength and keep him to his work. And what work it was! he had had many +a hard pull in the last six weeks, but never aught like this. + +But it can't last forever; men's muscles are not steel, or their lungs +bulls' hide, and hearts can't go on pumping a hundred miles an hour +long, without bursting. The St. Ambrose boat is well away from the boat +behind, there is a great gap between the accompanying crowds; and now, +as they near the Gut, she hangs for a moment or two in hand, though the +roar from the bank grows louder and louder, and Tom is already aware +that the St. Ambrose crowd is melting into the one ahead of them. + +"We must be close to Exeter!" The thought flashes into him, and, it +would seem, into the rest of the crew at the same moment; for, all at +once, the strain seems taken off their arms again; there is no more +drag; she springs to the stroke as she did at the start; and Miller's +face, which had darkened for a few seconds, lightens up again. + +Miller's face and attitude are a study. Coiled up into the smallest +possible space, his chin almost resting on his knees, his hands close to +his sides, firmly but lightly feeling the rudder, as a good horseman +handles the mouth of a free-going hunter; if a coxswain could make a +bump by his own exertions, surely he will do it. No sudden jerks of the +St. Ambrose rudder will you see, watch as you will from the bank; the +boat never hangs through fault of his, but easily and gracefully rounds +every point. "You're gaining! you're gaining!" he now and then mutters +to the captain, who responds with a wink, keeping his breath for other +matters. Isn't he grand, the captain, as he comes forward like +lightning, stroke after stroke, his back flat, his teeth set, his whole +frame working from the hips with the regularity of a machine? As the +space still narrows, the eyes of the fiery little coxswain flash with +excitement, but he is far too good a judge to hurry the final effort +before the victory is safe in his grasp. + +The two crowds are mingled now, and no mistake; and the shouts come all +in a heap over the water. "Now, St. Ambrose, six strokes more." "Now, +Exeter, you're gaining; pick her up." "Mind the Gut, Exeter." "Bravo, +St. Ambrose!" The water rushes by, still eddying from the strokes of +the boat ahead. Tom fancies now he can hear their oars and the workings +of their rudder, and the voice of their coxswain. In another moment both +boats are in the Gut, and a perfect storm of shouts reaches them from +the crowd, as it rushes madly off to the left to the footbridge, amidst +which "Oh, well steered, well steered, St. Ambrose!" is the prevailing +cry. Then Miller, motionless as a statue till now, lifts his right hand +and whirls the tassel round his head. "Give it her now, boys; six +strokes and we're into them." Old Jervis lays down that great broad back +and lashes his oar through the water with the might of a giant, the crew +catch him up in another stroke, the tight new boat answers to the spurt, +and Tom feels a little shock behind him, and then a grating sound, as +Miller shouts, "Unship oars, Bow and Three!" and the nose of the St. +Ambrose boat glides quietly up the side of the Exeter till it touches +their stroke oar. + +"Take care where you're coming to." It is the coxswain of the bumped +boat who speaks. + +Tom finds himself within a foot or two of him when he looks round; and, +being utterly unable to contain his joy, and yet unwilling to exhibit +it before the eyes of a gallant rival, turns away towards the shore, and +begins telegraphing to Hardy. + +"Now, then, what are you at there in the bows? Cast her off, quick. +Come, look alive! Push across at once out of the way of the other +boats." + +"I congratulate you, Jervis," says the Exeter stroke, as the St. Ambrose +boat shoots past him. "Do it again next race and I shan't care." + +Thomas Hughes: "Tom Brown at Oxford." + + + + +HUNTING SONG + + + Waken, lords and ladies gay, + On the mountain dawns the day; + All the jolly chase is here + With hawk and horse and hunting-spear; + Hounds are in their couples yelling, + Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling, + Merrily, merrily mingle they, + 'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' + + Waken, lords and ladies gay, + The mist has left the mountain gray, + Springlets in the dawn are steaming, + Diamonds on the brake are gleaming, + And foresters have busy been + To track the buck in thicket green; + Now we come to chant our lay, + 'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' + + Waken, lords and ladies gay, + To the greenwood haste away; + We can show you where he lies, + Fleet of foot and tall of size; + We can show the marks he made + When 'gainst the oak his antlers frayed; + You shall see him brought to bay: + 'Waken, lords and ladies gay.' + + Louder, louder chant the lay, + Waken, lords and ladies gay! + Tell them youth and mirth and glee + Run a course as well as we; + Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk, + Staunch as hound and fleet as hawk; + Think of this, and rise with day, + Gentle lords and ladies gay! + +Scott + + + + +It is not what he has, nor even what he does, which directly expresses +the worth of a man, but what he is. + +Amiel + + + + +BORDER BALLAD + + + March, march, Ettrick and Teviotdale, + Why, my lads, dinna ye march forward in order! + March, march, Eskdale and Liddesdale, + All the Blue Bonnets are bound for the Border. + Many a banner spread + Flutters above your head, + Many a crest that is famous in story; + Mount and make ready then, + Sons of the mountain glen, + Fight for the Queen and our old Scottish glory! + + Come from the hills where your hirsels[1] are grazing, + Come from the glen of the buck and the roe; + Come to the crag where the beacon is blazing, + Come with the buckler, the lance, and the bow; + Trumpets are sounding, + War-steeds are bounding, + Stand to your arms, and march in good order; + England shall many a day + Tell of the bloody fray + When the Blue Bonnets came over the Border. + +Scott + +FOOTNOTES: +[1] Cattle + + + + +THE GREAT NORTHERN DIVER + + +The weird, long call, or the shrill, demoniacal laugh coming out of the +night tells of the sleepless activity of the loon. The whip-poor-will in +the adjacent shrubbery seems companionable, and there is a friendly +spirit in the short, shrill tremolo of the night-hawk from the invisible +sky. Even the plaint of the screech-owl has a tone of human sympathy. +But the dreary cadence of the loon is the voice of the inhospitable +night, repelling every thought of human association. It does not +entreat, it does not warn; yet there is a fascination in its +expressionless strength. Over the black water, under the lowering sky, +or through the bright still moonlight, the same unfeeling tone fills the +ear of night. And sometimes, when the lingering moon sheds a broad trail +of light along the still waters of the lake, the graceful swimmer will +glide across and disappear in the darkness, breaking the bright +reflection into a multitude of chasing, quivering, trailing threads of +silver. Throughout the day, where the cedars come down to meet their +shadows in the dark water, he swims ceaselessly about, sitting low, with +black, glossy neck gracefully curved and displaying its delicate white +markings. Sometimes he stretches himself wearily, flapping his wings, +and displaying his white breast and the handsome, showy markings of his +sides. Though wary and aloof, and without a trace of animation in his +loud, penetrating cries, he shows his kinship by the scrupulous care +with which he preens his handsome feathers--even lying on his back in +the water to comb out and smooth his glossy, white breast. + +A hurried cry from overhead may unexpectedly reveal the presence of a +pair of loons in another element, and it is always fascinating to watch +their steady, strained, energetic flight above the tops of the pines, +generally to curve down to some more attractive expanse in the +cedar-girt lake. For the water is the loon's natural element. There is +an amusing deliberateness in his graceful, silent dive. He does not make +the hurried dip of his smaller cousin, the grebe, but more calmly curves +both neck and body, disappearing under the surface in a graceful arch. +Settling down and swimming with only head and neck exposed is an +evidence of suspicion, and is generally followed by a long dive, with a +belated reappearance in some remote part of the lake. + +When the mother loon takes her two offspring out for a swim, it is a big +event in the domestic circle. The outing is announced by prolonged and +unusual repetitions of the laughing call. For half an hour the echoes of +the lake are kept alive with sounds portentous of new departures in the +loon world. Then a peculiar object is seen to emerge from the marshy bay +and cross under the shadowy cedars toward the open water. A field-glass +shows it to be the mother loon and her two offspring, the three huddled +so closely together that they are almost indistinguishable. The mother +is unceasing in her care and attention. She strokes the backs of the +young birds with her bill, playing and fussing around and close to them, +as if they could not exist without her constant attention. Now and then +she leans over and lifts a broad, black, webbed foot out of the water, +holding it up distended, as if to endorse the modern theory that the +parent loon teaches her young to swim. They cling to each other and +cling to her, as if afraid of being lost in the great expanse of water +to which they have been so recently introduced. + +A short distance away the father swims about in lordly indifference, +diving occasionally and regaling himself on the unsuspecting fish. A +boat comes out from the shore, rowed by an industrious guide, with an +angler, picturesquely protected by mosquito net, sitting in the stern. +The mother loon pushes and urges her indolent pair in the direction of +safety. How slow they must seem as she hurries and encourages them! The +trio moves at a snail's pace compared with her ordinary speed, but the +young ones show no inclination to dive out of harm's way. Their +clinging, crowding tendency serves but to incommode and obstruct her. +And where is the male protector? Alas for the romance of chivalry! When +the boat comes near, he deliberately dives, and, after the usual +protracted wait, reappears in another part of the lake, away from the +danger that alarms and threatens the defenceless trio. But the mother +remains and urges the encumbering young things to speed. They do make +some headway, though slowly, toward the marshy bay from which they +recently emerged with so much loud, wild laughter. The indifference of +the fisherman and the guide does not reassure them, and they never cease +their entangled struggle till lost to sight in the winding lagoon. + +S. T. Wood + + + + +TO THE CUCKOO + + + O blithe New-comer! I have heard, + I hear thee and rejoice. + O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, + Or but a wandering Voice? + + While I am lying on the grass + Thy twofold shout I hear; + From hill to hill it seems to pass, + At once far off, and near. + + Though babbling only to the Vale, + Of sunshine and of flowers, + Thou bringest unto me a tale + Of visionary hours. + + Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! + Even yet thou art to me + No bird, but an invisible thing, + A voice, a mystery; + + The same whom in my school-boy days + I listened to; that Cry + Which made me look a thousand ways + In bush, and tree, and sky. + + To seek thee did I often rove + Through woods and on the green; + And thou wert still a hope, a love; + Still longed for, never seen. + + And I can listen to thee yet; + Can lie upon the plain + And listen, till I do beget + That golden time again. + + O blessed Bird! the earth we pace + Again appears to be + An unsubstantial faery place, + That is fit home for Thee! + +Wordsworth + + + + +ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET + + + The poetry of earth is never dead: + When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, + And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run + From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; + That is the Grasshopper's--he takes the lead + In summer luxury--he has never done + With his delights; for when tired out with fun + + He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. + The poetry of earth is ceasing never: + On a lone winter evening, when the frost + Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills + The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever, + And seems to one in drowsiness half-lost, + The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills. + +Keats + + + + +THE GREAT NORTHWEST + + +And now let us turn our glance to this great Northwest, whither my +wandering steps are about to lead me. Fully nine hundred miles as bird +would fly, and one thousand two hundred as horse can travel, west of Red +River, an immense range of mountains eternally capped with snow rises in +rugged masses from a vast stream-scarred plain. They who first beheld +these grand guardians of the central prairies named them the Montagnes +des Rochers (Rocky Mountains),--a fitting title for such vast +accumulations of rugged magnificence. From the glaciers and ice-valleys +of this great range of mountains, innumerable streams descend into the +plains. For a time they wander, as if heedless of direction, through +groves and glades and green-spreading declivities; then, assuming +greater fixity of purpose, they gather up many a wandering rill and +start eastward upon a long journey. At length the many detached streams +resolve themselves into two great water systems. Through hundreds of +miles these two rivers pursue their parallel courses, now approaching, +now opening out from each other. Suddenly the southern river bends +towards the north, and, at a point some six hundred miles from the +mountains, pours its volume of water into the northern channel. Then the +united river rolls, in vast, majestic curves, steadily towards the +north-east, turns once more towards the south, opens out into a great +reed-covered marsh, sweeps on into a large cedar-lined lake, and +finally, rolling over a rocky ledge, casts its waters into the northern +end of the great Lake Winnipeg, fully one thousand three hundred miles +from the glacier cradle where it took its birth. This river, which has +along it every diversity of hill and vale, meadow-land and forest, +treeless plain and fertile hillside, is called by the wild tribes who +dwell along its glorious shores, the Saskatchewan or "rapid-flowing +river." But this Saskatchewan is not the only river which drains the +great central region between Red River and the Rocky Mountains. The +Assiniboine or "stony river" drains the rolling prairie-lands five +hundred miles west from Red River; and many a smaller stream, and +rushing, bubbling brook, carries into its devious channel the waters of +that vast country which lies between the American boundary line and the +pine woods of the Lower Saskatchewan. + +So much for the rivers; and now for the land through which they flow. +How shall we picture it? how shall we tell the story of that great, +boundless, solitary waste of verdure? The old, old maps, which the +navigators of the sixteenth century formed from the discoveries of Cabot +and Cartier, of Verrazanno and Hudson, played strange pranks with the +geography of the New World. The coast-line, with the estuaries of large +rivers, was tolerably accurate; but the centre of America was +represented as a vast inland sea, whose shores stretched far into the +Polar North--a sea through which lay the much-coveted passage to the +long-sought treasures of the old realms of Cathay. Well, the geographers +of that period erred only in the description of ocean which they placed +in the centre of the continent; for an ocean there is--an ocean through +which men seek the treasures of Cathay even in our own times. But the +ocean is one of grass, and the shores are the crests of mountain ranges +and the dark pine forests of sub-Arctic regions. The great ocean itself +does not present such infinite variety as does this prairie-ocean of +which we speak:--in winter, a dazzling surface of purest snow; in early +summer, a vast expanse of grass and pale pink roses; in autumn, too +often a wild sea of raging fire! No ocean of water in the world can vie +with its gorgeous sunsets; no solitude can equal the loneliness of a +night-shadowed prairie: one feels the stillness, and hears the silence: +the wail of the prowling wolf makes the voice of solitude audible; the +stars look down through infinite silence upon a silence almost as +intense. This ocean has no past;--time has been nought to it, and men +have come and gone, leaving behind them no track, no vestige of their +presence. Some French writer, speaking of these prairies, has said that +the sense of this utter negation of life, this complete absence of +history, has struck him with a loneliness, oppressive and sometimes +terrible in its intensity. Perhaps so, but, for my part, the prairies +had nothing terrible in their aspect, nothing oppressive in their +loneliness. One saw here the world, as it had taken shape and form from +the hands of the Creator. Nor did the scene look less beautiful because +nature alone tilled the earth, and the unaided sun brought forth the +flowers. + +October had reached its latest week; the wild geese and swans had taken +their long flight to the south, and their wailing cry no more descended +through the darkness; ice had settled upon the quiet pools and was +settling upon the quick-running streams; the horizon glowed at night +with the red light of moving prairie fires. It was the close of the +Indian Summer, and Winter was coming quickly down, from his far northern +home. + +Major W. F. Butler: "The Great Lone Land." + + +[Illustration: PIONEERS] + + + + +RULE, BRITANNIA + + + When Britain first, at Heaven's command, + Arose from out the azure main, + This was the charter of the land, + And guardian angels sung this strain: + Rule, Britannia, rule the waves! + Britons never will be slaves! + + The nations, not so blest as thee, + Must in their turns to tyrants fall, + While thou shalt flourish great and free-- + The dread and envy of them all. + + Still more majestic shalt thou rise, + More dreadful from each foreign stroke; + As the loud blast that tears the skies + Serves but to root thy native oak. + + Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; + All their attempts to bend thee down + Will but arouse thy generous flame, + But work their woe and thy renown. + + To thee belongs the rural reign; + Thy cities shall with commerce shine; + All thine shall be the subject main, + And every shore it circles thine. + + The Muses, still with Freedom found, + Shall to thy happy coast repair; + Blest Isle, with matchless beauty crowned, + And manly hearts to guard the fair:-- + Rule, Britannia, rule the waves! + Britons never will be slaves! + +James Thomson + + + + +THE COMMANDMENT AND THE REWARD + + + My son, forget not my law; + But let thine heart keep my commandments: + For length of days, and years of life, + And peace, shall they add to thee. + Let not mercy and truth forsake thee: + Bind them about thy neck; + Write them upon the table of thine heart: + So shalt thou find favour, + And good repute in the sight of God and man. + + Trust in the LORD with all thine heart, + And lean not upon thine own understanding: + In all thy ways acknowledge him, + And he shall direct thy paths. + Be not wise in thine own eyes; + Fear the LORD, and depart from evil: + Honour the LORD with thy substance, + And with the first-fruits of all thine increase: + So shall thy barns be filled with plenty, + And thy vats shall overflow with new wine. + +Proverbs, III. + + + + +THE SPACIOUS FIRMAMENT + + + The spacious firmament on high, + With all the blue ethereal sky, + And spangled heavens, a shining frame, + Their great Original proclaim. + Th' unwearied Sun from day to day + Does his Creator's power display; + And publishes to every land + The work of an Almighty hand. + + Soon as the evening shades prevail, + The Moon takes up the wondrous tale; + And nightly to the listening Earth + Repeats the story of her birth: + Whilst all the stars that round her burn, + And all the planets in their turn, + Confirm the tidings as they roll, + And spread the truth from pole to pole. + + What though in solemn silence all + Move round the dark terrestrial ball; + What though no real voice nor sound + Amid their radiant orbs be found? + In Reason's ear they all rejoice, + And utter forth a glorious voice; + Forever singing as they shine, + "The Hand that made us is divine." + +Addison + + + + +JUNE + + + --What is so rare as a day in June? + Then, if ever, come perfect days; + Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, + And over it softly her warm ear lays: + Whether we look, or whether we listen, + We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; + Every clod feels a stir of might, + An instinct within it that reaches and towers, + And groping blindly above it for light, + Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; + The flush of life may well be seen + Thrilling back over hills and valleys; + The cowslip startles in meadows green, + The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, + And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean + To be some happy creature's palace; + The little bird sits at his door in the sun, + Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, + And lets his illumined being o'errun + With the deluge of summer it receives; + His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, + And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; + He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,-- + In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? + Now is the high-tide of the year, + And whatever of life hath ebbed away + Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer, + Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; + Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, + We are happy now because God wills it; + No matter how barren the past may have been, + 'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; + We sit in the warm shade and feel right well + How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; + We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing + That skies are clear and grass is growing; + The breeze comes whispering in our ear, + That dandelions are blossoming near, + That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, + That the river is bluer than the sky, + That the robin is plastering his house hard by; + And if the breeze kept the good news back, + For other couriers we should not lack; + We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing.-- + And hark! how clear bold chanticleer, + Warmed with the new wine of the year, + Tells all in his lusty crowing! + +Lowell + + + + +THE FIFTH VOYAGE OF SINBAD THE SAILOR + + +All the troubles and calamities I had undergone could not cure me of my +inclination to make new voyages. I therefore bought goods, departed with +them for the best seaport, and there, that I might not be obliged to +depend upon a captain, but have a ship at my own command, I remained +till one was built on purpose at my own charge. When the ship was ready, +I went on board with my goods: but not having enough to load her, I +agreed to take with me several merchants of different nations, with +their merchandise. + +We sailed with the first fair wind, and after a long navigation the +first place we touched at was a desert island, where we found an egg of +a roc, equal in size to that I saw on a former voyage, fifty paces +round, and shining as a great white dome when seen even from afar. There +was a young roc in it, just ready to be hatched, and its bill had begun +to appear. + +The merchants whom I had taken on board, and who landed with me, broke +the egg with hatchets, and having made a hole in it, pulled out the +young roc piecemeal and roasted it. I had earnestly entreated them not +to meddle with the egg, but they would not listen to me. + +Scarcely had they finished their repast, when there appeared in the air, +at a considerable distance from us, two great clouds. The captain whom I +had hired to navigate my ship, knowing by experience what they meant, +said they were the male and female roc that belonged to the young one, +and pressed us to re-embark with all speed, to prevent the misfortune +which he saw would otherwise befall us. We hastened on board and set +sail with all possible expedition. In the meantime, the two rocs +approached with a frightful noise, which they redoubled when they saw +the egg broken and their young one gone. They flew back in the direction +they had come, and disappeared for some time, while we made all the sail +we could to endeavour to prevent that which unhappily befell us. + +They soon returned, and we observed that each of them carried between +its talons, stones, or rather rocks, of a monstrous size. When they came +directly over my ship they hovered, and one of them let fall a stone, +but by the dexterity of the steersman it missed us, and, falling into +the sea, divided the water so that we could almost see the bottom. The +other roc, to our misfortune, threw his massy burden so exactly into the +middle of the ship as to split it into a thousand pieces. The mariners +and passengers were all crushed to death, or sunk. I myself was of the +number of the latter, but, as I came up again, I fortunately caught hold +of a piece of the wreck, and swimming, sometimes with one hand and +sometimes with the other, but always holding fast my board, the wind and +tide favouring me, I came to an island whose shore was very steep. I +overcame that difficulty, however, and got ashore. + +I sat down upon the grass to recover myself from my fatigue, after which +I went into the island to explore it. It seemed to be a delicious +garden. I found trees everywhere, some of them bearing green, and others +ripe fruits; and there were streams of fresh, pure water running in +pleasant meanders. I ate of the fruits, which I found excellent; and +drank of the water, which was very light and good. + +When I was a little advanced into the island I saw an old man, who +appeared very weak and infirm. He was sitting on the bank of a stream, +and at first I took him to be one who had been shipwrecked like myself. +I went towards him and saluted him, but he only slightly bowed his +head. I asked him why he sat so still; but instead of answering me, he +made a sign for me to take him upon my back and carry him over the +brook, signifying that it was to gather fruit. + +I believed him really to stand in need of my assistance, took him upon +my back, and having carried him over, bade him get down, and for that +end stooped, that he might get off with ease; but instead of doing so +(which I laugh at every time I think of it), the old man who appeared to +me quite decrepit, threw his legs nimbly about my neck. He sat astride +upon my shoulders, and held my throat so tight that I thought he would +have strangled me, the apprehension of which made me swoon and fall +down. + +Notwithstanding my fainting, the ill-natured old fellow kept fast about +my neck. When I had recovered my breath, he thrust one of his feet +against my stomach, and struck me so rudely on the side with the other, +that he forced me to rise up against my will. Having arisen, he made me +carry him under the trees, and forced me now and then to stop, to gather +and eat fruit such as we found. He never left me all day, and when I lay +down to rest at night, he laid himself down with me, holding always +fast about my neck. Every morning he pushed me to make me awake, and +afterwards obliged me to get up and walk, and pressed me with his feet. +You may judge then, what trouble I was in to be loaded with such a +burden of which I could not get rid. + +One day I found in my way several dry calabashes that had fallen from a +tree. I took a large one, and after cleaning it, pressed into it some +juice of grapes, which abounded in the island. Having filled the +calabash, I put it by in a convenient place; and going thither again +some days after, I tasted it and found the wine so good that it soon +made me forget my sorrow, gave me new vigour, and so exhilarated my +spirits, that I began to sing and dance as I walked along. + +The old man, perceiving the effect which this liquor had upon me, and +that I carried him with more ease than before, made me a sign to give +him some of it. I handed him the calabash, and the liquor pleasing his +palate, he drank it all off. There being a considerable quantity of it, +and the fumes getting into his head, he began to sing and dance upon my +shoulders, and to loosen his legs from about me by degrees. Finding +that he did not press me as before, I threw him upon the ground, where +he lay without motion; then I took up a great stone and crushed his +head. + +I was extremely glad to be thus freed for ever from this troublesome +fellow. I now walked towards the beach, where I met the crew of a ship +that had cast anchor, to take water. They were surprised to see me, but +more so at the particulars of my adventures. "You fell," said they, +"into the hands of the old man of the sea, and are the first who ever +escaped strangling by his malicious tricks. He never quitted those he +had once made himself master of till he had destroyed them, and he has +made this island notorious by the number of men he has slain." + +After having informed me of these things, they carried me with them to +the ship; the captain received me with great kindness when they told him +what had befallen me. He put out again to sea, and after some days' +sail, we arrived at the harbour of a great city, the houses of which +were built with hewn stone. + +One of the merchants who had taken me into his friendship invited me to +go along with him and carried me to a place appointed for the +accommodation of foreign merchants. He gave me a large bag, and having +recommended me to some people of the town, who used to gather +cocoa-nuts, desired them to take me with them. "Go," said he, "follow +them, and act as you see them do; but do not part from them, otherwise +you may endanger your life." Having thus spoken, he gave me provisions +for the journey, and I went with them. + +We came to a thick forest of cocoa trees, very lofty, with trunks so +smooth that it was not possible to climb to the branches that bore the +fruit. When we entered the forest, we saw a great number of apes of +several sizes, who fled as soon as they perceived us and climbed up to +the tops of the trees with surprising swiftness. + +The merchants gathered stones and threw them at the apes in the trees. I +did the same, and the apes, out of revenge, threw cocoa-nuts at us so +fast, and with such gestures, as sufficiently testified their anger and +resentment. We gathered up the cocoa-nuts, and from time to time threw +stones to provoke the apes; so that by this stratagem we filled our bags +with cocoa-nuts, which it had been impossible otherwise to have done. I +thus gradually collected as many cocoa-nuts as produced me a +considerable sum. + +We sailed towards the islands, where pepper grows in great plenty. From +thence we went to the isle of Comari, where the best species of wood of +aloes grows. I exchanged my cocoa in those islands for pepper and wood +of aloes, and went with other merchants a-pearl-fishing. I hired divers, +who brought me up some that were very large and pure. I embarked in a +vessel that happily arrived at Bussorah; from thence I returned to +Bagdat, where I made vast sums of my pepper, wood of aloes, and pearls. +I gave the tenth of my gains in alms, as I had done upon my return from +my other voyages, and endeavoured to dissipate my fatigues by amusements +of different kinds. + +"The Arabian Nights Entertainments." + + + + + All are needed by each one; + Nothing is fair or good alone. + I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, + Singing at dawn on the alder bough; + I brought him home, in his nest, at even; + He sings the song, but it cheers not now, + For I did not bring home the river and sky;-- + He sang to my ear,--they sang to my eye. + +Emerson + + + + +OCEAN + + + Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll! + Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; + Man marks the earth with ruin,--his control + Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain + The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain + A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, + When for a moment, like a drop of rain, + He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan-- + Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. + + His steps are not upon thy paths,--thy fields, + Are not a spoil for him,--thou dost arise + And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields + For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise, + Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, + And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, + And howling to his gods, where haply lies + His petty hope in some near port or bay, + And dashest him again to earth; there let him lay. + + The armaments which thunderstrike the walls + Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, + And monarchs tremble in their capitals; + The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make + Their clay creator the vain title take + Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war: + These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, + They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar + Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar. + + Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-- + Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? + Thy waters washed them power while they were free, + And many a tyrant since; their shores obey + The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay + Has dried up realms to deserts: not so, thou; + Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play. + Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; + Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. + + Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form + Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, + Calm or convulsed--in breeze or gale or storm, + Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime, + Dark-heaving, boundless, endless and sublime-- + The image of eternity--the throne + Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime + The monsters of the deep are made; each zone + Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. + + And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy + Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be + Borne, like thy bubbles onward: from a boy + I wantoned with thy breakers; they to me + Were a delight; and, if the freshening sea + Made them a terror--'twas a pleasing fear; + For I was as it were a child of thee + And trusted to thy billows far and near, + And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here. + +Byron: "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." + + + + + Britain's myriad voices call + "Sons be welded each and all, + Into one imperial whole, + One with Britain, heart and soul! + One life, one flag, one fleet, one Throne!" + Britons, hold your own! + +Tennyson + + +[Illustration: HOMEWARD BOUND] + + + + +PONTIAC'S ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE FORT DETROIT + + +In the year 1763, a celebrated chief of the Ottawas, called Pontiac, +succeeded in forming a confederacy of the Ottawas, Hurons, Chippewas, +and some other tribes, with the avowed object of expelling the British +from the lake regions of the country. With the craftiness peculiar to +the Indian race, an ingenious stratagem was devised, by means of which +it was hoped that the allies would easily gain possession of the forts. + +For this purpose a grand Lacrosse match was organized at each post, and +the officers of the garrison invited to become participators in the +game. + +Pontiac and his attendant chiefs had, while the warriors and braves were +engaged in the game of Lacrosse on the common, sought an audience of the +governor of the fort. He received them in the mess-room, apparently not +suspecting any artifice on their part. + +"The pale warrior, the friend of the Ottawa chief, is not here," said +the governor, as he glanced his eye along the semi-circle of Indians. +"How is this? Is his voice still sick, that he cannot come? or has the +great chief of the Ottawas forgotten to tell him?" + +"The voice of the pale warrior is still sick, and he cannot speak," +replied the Indian. "The Ottawa chief is very sorry; for the tongue of +his friend, the pale-face, is full of wisdom." + +Scarcely had the last words escaped his lips when a wild, shrill cry +from without the fort rang on the ears of the assembled council, and +caused a momentary commotion among the officers. It arose from a single +voice, and that voice could not be mistaken by any who had heard it once +before. A second or two, during which the officers and chiefs kept their +eyes intently fixed on one another, passed anxiously away; and then +nearer to the gate, apparently on the very drawbridge itself, was pealed +forth the wild and deafening yell of a legion of fiendish voices. At +that sound, the Ottawa and the other chiefs sprang to their feet, and +their own fierce cry responded to that yet vibrating on the ears of all. +Already were their gleaming tomahawks brandished wildly over their +heads, and Pontiac had even bounded a pace forward to reach the governor +with the deadly weapon, when, at the sudden stamping of the foot of the +latter upon the floor, the scarlet cloth in the rear was thrown aside, +and twenty soldiers, their eyes glancing along the barrels of their +levelled muskets, met the startled gaze of the astonished Indians. + +An instant was enough to satisfy the keen chief of the true state of the +case. The calm, composed mien of the officers, not one of whom had even +attempted to quit his seat amid the din by which his ears were so +alarmingly assailed,--the triumphant, yet dignified, and even severe +expression of the governor's countenance; and, above all, the unexpected +presence of the prepared soldiery,--all these at once assured him of the +discovery of his treachery, and the danger that awaited him. The +necessity for an immediate attempt to join his warriors without was now +obvious to the Ottawa; and scarcely had he conceived the idea before he +sought to execute it. In a single spring he gained the door of the +mess-room, and, followed eagerly and tumultuously by the other chiefs, +to whose departure no opposition was offered, in the next moment stood +on the steps of the piazza that ran along the front of the building +whence he had issued. The surprise of the Indians on reaching this point +was now too powerful to be dissembled; and incapable either of +advancing or receding, they remained gazing on the scene before them +with an air of mingled stupefaction, rage, and alarm. Scarcely ten +minutes had elapsed since they had proudly strode through the naked area +of the fort, and yet even in that short space of time its appearance had +been entirely changed. Not a part was there now of the surrounding +buildings that was not replete with human life and hostile preparation. +Through every window of the officers' low rooms was to be seen the dark +and frowning muzzle of a field-piece bearing upon the gateway, and +behind these were artillerymen holding their lighted matches, supported +again by files of bayonets that glittered in their rear. In the +block-houses the same formidable array of field-pieces and muskets was +visible; while from the four angles of the square as many heavy guns, +that had been artfully masked at the entrance of the chiefs, seemed +ready to sweep away everything that should come before them. The +guard-room near the gate presented the same hostile front. The doors of +this, as well as of the other buildings, had been firmly secured within; +and from every window affording cover to the troops gleamed a line of +bayonets, rising above the threatening field-pieces, pointed, at a +distance of little more than twelve feet, directly upon the gateway. In +addition to his musket, each man of the guard held a hand grenade, +provided with a short fuse that could be ignited in a moment from the +matches of the gunners, with immediate effect. The soldiers in the +block-houses were similarly provided. + +Almost magical as was the change thus suddenly effected in the +appearance of the garrison, it was not the most interesting feature in +the exciting scene. Choking up the gateway, in which they were +completely wedged, and crowding the drawbridge, a dense mass of "husky" +Indians were to be seen casting their fierce glances around, yet +paralyzed in their movements by the unlooked-for display of resisting +force, threatening instant annihilation to those who should attempt +either to advance or recede. Never, perhaps, were astonishment and +disappointment more forcibly depicted on the human countenance, than +they were now exhibited by these men, who had already in imagination +secured to themselves an easy conquest. They were the warriors who had +so recently been engaged in the manly yet innocent exercise of the ball; +but, instead of the harmless hurdle, each now carried a short gun in +one hand and a gleaming tomahawk in the other. + +After the first general yelling heard in the council-room, not a sound +was uttered. Their burst of rage and triumph had evidently been checked +by the unexpected manner of their reception; and they now stood on the +spot on which the further advance of each had been arrested, so silent +and motionless, that, but for the rolling of their dark eyes, as they +keenly measured the insurmountable barriers that were opposed to their +progress, they might almost have been taken for a wild group of +statuary. Conspicuous at the head of these was he who wore the blanket; +a tall warrior on whom rested the startled eye of every officer and +soldier who was so situated as to behold him. His face was painted black +as death; and as he stood under the arch of the gateway, with his white +turbaned head towering far above those of his companions, this +formidable and mysterious enemy might have been likened to the spirit of +darkness presiding over his terrible legions. + +In order to account for the extraordinary appearance of the Indians, +armed in every way for death, at a moment when neither gun nor tomahawk +was apparently within miles of their reach, it was necessary to revert +to the first entrance of the chiefs into the fort. The fall of Pontiac +had been the effect of design; and the yell pealed forth by him, on +recovering his feet, as if in taunting reply to the laugh of his +comrades, was in reality a signal intended for the guidance of the +Indians without. These now following up their game with increasing +spirit, at once changed the direction of their line, bringing the ball +nearer to the fort. In their eagerness to effect this object, they had +overlooked the gradual secession of the unarmed troops, spectators of +their sport from the ramparts, until scarcely more than twenty +stragglers were left. As they neared the gate, the squaws broke up their +several groups, and, forming a line on either hand of the road leading +to the drawbridge, appeared to separate solely with a view not to impede +the players. For an instant a dense group collected around the ball, +which had been drawn to within a hundred yards of the gate, and fifty +hurdles were crossed in their endeavour to secure it, when the warrior, +who formed the solitary exception to the multitude, in his blanket +covering, and who had been lingering in the extreme rear of the party, +came rapidly up to the spot where the well-affected struggle was +maintained. At his approach the hurdles of the other players were +withdrawn, when, at a single blow from his powerful arm, the ball was +seen flying in an oblique direction and was for a moment lost altogether +to the view. When it again met the eye, it was descending into the very +centre of the fort. + +With the fleetness of thought now commenced a race which had ostensibly +for its object the recovery of the lost ball, and in which he who had +driven it with resistless force outstripped them all. Their course lay +between the two lines of squaws; and scarcely had the head of the +bounding Indians reached the opposite extremity of those lines, when the +women suddenly threw back their blankets, and disclosed each a short gun +and tomahawk. To throw away their hurdles and seize upon these, was the +work of an instant. Already, in imagination, was the fort their own; +and, such, was the peculiar exaltation of the black and turbaned warrior +when he felt the planks of the drawbridge bending beneath his feet, all +the ferocious joy of his soul was pealed forth in the terrible cry +which, rapidly succeeded by that of the other Indians, had resounded so +fearfully through the council-room. + +What their disappointment was, when, on gaining the interior, they found +the garrison prepared for their reception, has already been shown. + +Major Richardson + + + + +MY NATIVE LAND + + + Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, + Who never to himself hath said, + This is my own, my native land! + Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, + As home his footsteps he hath turned, + From wandering on a foreign strand! + If such there breathe, go, mark him well; + For him no minstrel raptures swell; + High though his titles, proud his name, + Boundless his wealth as wish can claim: + Despite those titles, power, and pelf, + The wretch, concentred all in self, + Living, shall forfeit fair renown, + And, doubly dying, shall go down + To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, + Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung. + +Scott: "The Lay of the Last Minstrel." + + + + +MORNING ON THE LIEVRE + + + Far above us where a jay + Screams his matins to the day, + Capped with gold and amethyst, + Like a vapour from the forge + Of a giant somewhere hid, + Out of hearing of the clang + Of his hammer, skirts of mist + Slowly up the woody gorge + Lift and hang. + + Softly as a cloud we go, + Sky above and sky below, + Down the river; and the dip + Of the paddles scarcely breaks, + With the little silvery drip + Of the water as it shakes + From the blades, the crystal deep + Of the silence of the morn, + Of the forest yet asleep; + And the river reaches borne + In a mirror, purple gray, + Sheer away + To the misty line of light, + Where the forest and the stream + In the shadow meet and plight, + Like a dream. + + From amid a stretch of reeds, + Where the lazy river sucks + All the water as it bleeds + From a little curling creek, + And the muskrats peer and sneak + In around the sunken wrecks + Of a tree that swept the skies + Long ago, + On a sudden seven ducks + With a splashy rustle rise, + Stretching out their seven necks, + One before, and two behind, + And the others all arow, + And as steady as the wind + With a swivelling whistle go, + Through the purple shadow led, + Till we only hear their whir + In behind a rocky spur, + Just ahead. + +Archibald Lampman + + + + +I call, therefore, a complete and generous education, that which fits a +man to perform justly, skilfully, and magnanimously, all the offices, +both private and public, of peace and war. + +Milton: "On Education." + + + + +EVENING + + + From upland slopes I see the cows file by, + Lowing, great-chested, down the homeward trail, + By dusking fields and meadows shining pale + With moon-tipped dandelions. Flickering high, + A peevish night-hawk in the western sky + Beats up into the lucent solitudes, + Or drops with griding wing. The stilly woods + Grow dark and deep and gloom mysteriously. + Cool night winds creep, and whisper in mine ear, + The homely cricket gossips at my feet, + From far-off pools and wastes of reeds I hear, + Clear and soft-piped, the chanting frogs break sweet + In full Pandean chorus. One by one + Shine out the stars, and the great night comes on. + +Archibald Lampman + + + + + For manners are not idle, but the fruit + Of loyal nature and of noble mind. + +Tennyson + + + + +AN ELIZABETHAN SEAMAN + + +Some two miles above the port of Dartmouth, once among the most +important harbours in England, on a projecting angle of land which runs +out into the river at the head of one of its most beautiful reaches, +there has stood for some centuries the Manor House of Greenaway. The +water runs deep all the way to it from the sea, and the largest vessels +may ride with safety within a stone's throw of the windows. In the +latter half of the sixteenth century there must have met, in the hall of +this mansion, a party as remarkable as could have been found anywhere in +England. Humfrey and Adrian Gilbert, with their half-brother, Walter +Raleigh, here, when little boys, played at sailors in the reaches of +Long Stream, in the summer evenings doubtless rowing down with the tide +to the port, and wondering at the quaint figure-heads and carved prows +of the ships which thronged it; or climbing on board, and listening, +with hearts beating, to the mariners' tales of the new earth beyond the +sunset. And here in later life, matured men, whose boyish dreams had +become heroic action, they used again to meet in the intervals of quiet, +and the rock is shown underneath the house where Raleigh smoked the +first tobacco. Another remarkable man could not fail to have made a +fourth at these meetings. A sailor-boy of Sandwich, the adjoining +parish, John Davis, showed early a genius which could not have escaped +the eye of such neighbours, and in the atmosphere of Greenaway he +learned to be as noble as the Gilberts, and as tender and delicate as +Raleigh. + +In 1585 John Davis left Dartmouth on his first voyage into the Polar +Seas; and twice subsequently he went again, venturing in small, +ill-equipped vessels of thirty or forty tons into the most dangerous +seas. These voyages were as remarkable for their success as for the +daring with which they were accomplished, and Davis' epitaph is written +on the map of the world, where his name still remains to commemorate his +discoveries. Brave as he was, he is distinguished by a peculiar and +exquisite sweetness of nature, which, from many little facts of his +life, seems to have affected every one with whom he came in contact in a +remarkable degree. We find men, for the love of Master Davis, leaving +their firesides to sail with him, without other hope or motion; we find +silver bullets cast to shoot him in a mutiny; the hard, rude natures of +the mutineers being awed by something in his carriage which was not like +that of a common man. He has written the account of one of his northern +voyages himself; and there is an imaginative beauty in it, and a rich +delicacy of expression, which is called out in him by the first sight of +strange lands and things and people. + +We have only space to tell something of the conclusion of his voyage +north. In latitude sixty-three degrees, he fell in with a barrier of +ice, which he coasted for thirteen days without finding an opening. The +very sight of an iceberg was new to all his crew; and the ropes and +shrouds, though it was midsummer, becoming compassed with ice,-- + +"The people began to fall sick and faint-hearted--whereupon, very +orderly, and with good discretion, they entreated me to regard the +safety of mine own life, as well as the preservation of theirs; and that +I should not, through over-boldness, leave their widows and fatherless +children to give me bitter curses. + +"Whereupon, seeking counsel of God, it pleased His Divine Majesty to move +my heart to prosecute that which I hope shall be to His glory and to the +contentation of every Christian mind." + +He had two vessels--one of some burden, the other a pinnace of thirty +tons. The result of the counsel which he had sought was, that he made +over his own large vessel to such as wished to return, and himself, +"thinking it better to die with honour than to return with infamy," went +on with such volunteers as would follow him, in a poor leaky cutter, up +the sea now in commemoration of that adventure called Davis' Strait. He +ascended four degrees north of the furthest known point, among storms +and icebergs, when the long days and twilight nights alone saved him +from being destroyed, and, coasting back along the American shore, he +discovered Hudson Strait, supposed then to be the long desired entrance +into the Pacific. This exploit drew the attention of Walsingham, and by +him Davis was presented to Burleigh, "who was also pleased to show him +great encouragement." If either these statesmen or Elizabeth had been +twenty years younger, his name would have filled a larger space in +history than a small corner of the map of the world; but, if he was +employed at all in the last years of the century, no _vates sacer_ has +been found to celebrate his work, and no clew is left to guide us. He +disappears; a cloud falls over him. He is known to have commanded +trading vessels in the Eastern seas, and to have returned five times +from India. But the details are all lost, and accident has only parted +the clouds for a moment to show us the mournful setting with which he, +too, went down upon the sea. + +In taking out Sir Edward Michellthorne to India, in 1604, he fell in +with a crew of Japanese, whose ship had been burnt, drifting at sea, +without provisions, in a leaky junk. He supposed them to be pirates, but +he did not choose to leave them to so wretched a death, and took them on +board; and in a few hours, watching their opportunity, they murdered +him. + +As the fool dieth, so dieth the wise, and there is no difference; it was +the chance of the sea, and the ill reward of a humane action--a +melancholy end for such a man--like the end of a warrior, not dying +Epaminondas-like on the field of victory, but cut off in some poor brawl +or ambuscade. But so it was with all these men. They were cut off in the +flower of their days, and few of them laid their bones in the sepulchres +of their fathers. They knew the service which they had chosen, and they +did not ask the wages for which they had not laboured. Life with them +was no summer holiday, but a holy sacrifice offered up to duty, and +what their Master sent was welcome. Beautiful is old age--beautiful is +the slow-dropping mellow autumn of a rich, glorious summer. In the old +man, Nature has fulfilled her work; she loads him with her blessings; +she fills him with the fruits of a well-spent life; and, surrounded by +his children and his children's children, she rocks him softly away to a +grave, to which he is followed with blessings. God forbid we should not +call it beautiful. It is beautiful, but not the most beautiful. There is +another life, hard, rough, and thorny, trodden with bleeding feet and +aching brow; the life of which the cross is the symbol; a battle which +no peace follows, this side the grave; which the grave gapes to finish, +before the victory is won; and--strange that it should be so--this is +the highest life of man. Look back along the great names of history; +there is none whose life has been other than this. They to whom it has +been given to do the really highest work in this earth--whoever they +are, Jew or Gentile, Pagan or Christian, warriors, legislators, +philosophers, priests, poets, kings, slaves--one and all, their fate has +been the same--the same bitter cup has been given them to drink. And so +it was with the servants of England in the sixteenth century. Their +life was a long battle, either with the elements or with men; and it was +enough for them to fulfil their work, and to pass away in the hour when +God had nothing more to bid them do. + +Froude: "Short Studies on Great Subjects." + + + + +THE SEA-KING'S BURIAL + + + "My strength is failing fast," + Said the sea-king to his men; + "I shall never sail the seas + As a conqueror again. + But while yet a drop remains + Of the life-blood in my veins, + Raise, O raise me from the bed; + Put the crown upon my head; + Put my good sword in my hand, + And so lead me to the strand, + Where my ship at anchor rides + Steadily; + If I cannot end my life + In the crimsoned battle-strife, + Let me die as I have lived, + On the sea." + + They have raised King Balder up, + Put his crown upon his head; + They have sheathed his limbs in mail, + And the purple o'er him spread; + And amid the greeting rude + Of a gathering multitude, + Borne him slowly to the shore-- + All the energy of yore + From his dim eyes flashing forth-- + Old sea-lion of the north-- + As he looked upon his ship + Riding free, + And on his forehead pale + Felt the cold, refreshing gale, + And heard the welcome sound + Of the sea. + + They have borne him to the ship + With a slow and solemn tread; + They have placed him on the deck + With his crown upon his head, + Where he sat as on a throne; + And have left him there alone, + With his anchor ready weighed + And his snowy sails displayed + To the favouring wind, once more + Blowing freshly from the shore; + And have bidden him farewell + Tenderly, + Saying, "_King of mighty men, + We shall meet thee yet again, + In Valhalla, with the monarchs + Of the sea_." + + Underneath him in the hold + They have placed the lighted brand; + And the fire was burning slow + As the vessel from the land, + Like a stag-hound from the slips, + Darted forth from out the ships. + There was music in her sail + As it swelled before the gale, + And a dashing at her prow + As it cleft the waves below, + And the good ship sped along, + Scudding free; + As on many a battle morn + In her time she had been borne, + To struggle and to conquer + On the sea. + + And the king, with sudden strength, + Started up and paced the deck, + With his good sword for his staff + And his robe around his neck: + Once alone, he raised his hand + To the people on the land; + And with shout and joyous cry + Once again they made reply, + Till the loud, exulting cheer + Sounded faintly on his ear; + For the gale was o'er him blowing + Fresh and free; + And ere yet an hour had passed, + He was driven before the blast, + And a storm was on his path + On the sea. + + "So blow, ye tempests, blow, + And my spirit shall not quail: + I have fought with many a foe, + I have weathered many a gale; + And in this hour of death, + Ere I yield my fleeting breath-- + Ere the fire now burning slow + Shall come rushing from below, + And this worn and wasted frame + Be devoted to the flame-- + I will raise my voice in triumph, + Singing free;-- + To the great All-Father's home + I am driving through the foam, + I am sailing to Valhalla, + O'er the sea. + + "So blow, ye stormy winds-- + And, ye flames, ascend on high;-- + In the easy, idle bed + Let the slave and coward die! + But give me the driving keel, + Clang of shields and flashing steel; + Happy, happy, thus I'd yield, + On the deck or in the field, + My last breath, shouting: 'On + To victory.' + But since this has been denied, + They shall say that I have died + Without flinching, like a monarch + Of the sea." + + And Balder spoke no more, + And no sound escaped his lip;-- + Neither recked he of the roar, + The destruction of his ship, + Nor the fleet sparks mounting high, + Nor the glare upon the sky; + Scarcely heard the billows dash, + Nor the burning timber crash: + Scarcely felt the scorching heat + That was gathering at his feet, + Nor the fierce flames mounting o'er him + Greedily. + But the life was in him yet, + And the courage to forget + All his pain, in his triumph + On the sea. + + Once alone a cry arose, + Half of anguish, half of pride, + As he sprang upon his feet + With the flames on every side. + "I am coming!" said the king, + "Where the swords and bucklers ring-- + Where the warrior lives again + With the souls of mighty men-- + I am coming, great All-Father, + Unto Thee! + Unto Odin, unto Thor, + And the strong, true hearts of yore-- + I am coming to Valhalla, + O'er the sea." + +Charles Mackay + + + + +Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with the finest +ears, and listen to the sweetest voices of all time. + +Lowell + + + + +MY CASTLES IN SPAIN + + +I am the owner of great estates. Many of them lie in the west, but the +greater part in Spain. + +You may see my western possessions any evening at sunset when their +spires and battlements flash against the horizon. But my finest castles +are in Spain. It is a country famously romantic, and my castles are all +of perfect proportions and appropriately set in the most picturesque +situations. + +I have never been in Spain myself, but I have naturally conversed much +with travellers to that country; although, I must allow, without +deriving from them much substantial information about my property there. + +The wisest of them told me that there were more holders of real estate +in Spain than in any other region he had ever heard of, and they are all +great proprietors. + +Every one of them possesses a multitude of the stateliest castles. It is +remarkable that none of the proprietors have ever been to Spain to take +possession and report to the rest of us the state of our property there, +and it is not easy for me to say how I know so much about my castles in +Spain. + +The sun always shines upon them. They stand lofty and fair in a +luminous, golden atmosphere, a little hazy and dreamy, perhaps, like the +Indian summer, but in which no gales blow and there are no tempests. + +All the sublime mountains and beautiful valleys and soft landscapes that +I have not yet seen are to be found in the grounds. + +I have often wondered how I should reach my castles. I have inquired +very particularly, but nobody seemed to know the way. It occurred to me +that Bourne, the millionaire, must have ascertained the safest and most +expeditious route to Spain; so I stole a few minutes one afternoon and +went into his office. + +He was sitting at his desk, writing rapidly, and surrounded by files of +papers and patterns, specimens, boxes,--everything that covers the +tables of a great merchant. + +"A moment, please, Mr. Bourne." He looked up hastily, and wished me +good-morning, which courtesy I attributed to Spanish sympathy. + +"What is it, sir?" he asked blandly, but with wrinkled brow. + +"Mr. Bourne, have you any castles in Spain?" said I, without preface. He +looked at me for a few moments, without speaking and without seeming to +see me. His brow gradually smoothed, and his eyes apparently looking +into the street were really, I have no doubt, feasting upon the Spanish +landscape. + +"Too many, too many," said he, at length, musingly, shaking his head and +without addressing me. + +He feared, I thought, that he had too much impracticable property +elsewhere to own so much in Spain: so I asked:-- + +"Will you tell me what you consider the shortest and safest route +thither, Mr. Bourne? for, of course, a man who drives such an immense +trade with all parts of the world will know all that I have come to +inquire." + +"My dear sir," answered he, wearily, "I have been trying all my life to +discover it; but none of my ships have ever been there--none of my +captains have any report to make. + +"They bring me, as they brought my father, gold-dust from Guinea, ivory, +pearls, and precious stones from every part of the earth; but not a +fruit, not a solitary flower, from one of my castles in Spain. + +"I have sent clerks, agents, and travellers of all kinds, philosophers, +pleasure hunters, and invalids, in all sorts of ships, to all sorts of +places, but none of them ever saw or heard of my castles, except a young +poet, and he died in a madhouse." + +"Mr. Bourne, will you take five thousand at ninety-seven?" hastily +demanded a man whom, as he entered, I recognized as a broker. "We'll +make a splendid thing of it." + +Bourne nodded assent, and the broker disappeared. + +"Happy man!" muttered the merchant, as the broker went out; "he has no +castles in Spain." + +"I am sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Bourne," said I, retiring. + +"I'm glad you came," returned he; "but, I assure you, had I known the +route you hoped to ascertain from me I should have sailed years and +years ago. People sail for the Northwest Passage, which is nothing when +you have found it. Why don't the English Admiralty fit out expeditions +to discover all our castles in Spain?" + +Yet I dream my dreams and attend to my castles in Spain. I have so much +property there that I could not in conscience neglect it. + +All the years of my youth and hopes of my manhood are stored away, like +precious stones, in the vaults; and I know that I shall find everything +elegant, beautiful, and convenient when I come into possession. + +As the years go by, I am not conscious that my interest diminishes. + +Shall I tell a secret? Shall I confess that sometimes when I have been +sitting reading to my Prue "Cymbeline," perhaps, or a "Canterbury Tale," +I have seemed to see clearly before me the broad highway to my castles +in Spain, and, as she looked up from her work and smiled in sympathy, I +have even fancied that I was already there? + +George William Curtis: "Prue and I." +(Adapted) + + + + +ALADDIN + + + When I was a beggarly boy + And lived in a cellar damp, + I had not a friend or a toy, + But I had Aladdin's lamp; + When I could not sleep for cold, + I had fire enough in my brain, + And builded with roofs of gold + My beautiful castles in Spain! + + Since then I have toiled day and night, + I have money and power good store, + But I'd give all my lamps of silver bright + For the one that is mine no more; + Take, Fortune, whatever you choose, + You gave, and may snatch again; + I have nothing 'twould pain me to lose, + For I own no more castles in Spain! + +Lowell + + + + +DRAKE'S VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD + + +Francis Drake was born near Tavistock in the year 1545. He served his +time as an apprentice in a Channel coaster, and his master, who had been +struck with his character, left the vessel to him in his will when he +died. He was then twenty-one. His kinsman, John Hawkins, was fitting out +his third expedition to the Spanish Main, and young Drake, with a party +of his Kentish friends, went to Plymouth and joined him. In 1572 "he +made himself whole with the Spaniards" by seizing a convoy of bullion at +Panama, and on that occasion, having seen the South Pacific from the +mountains, "he fell on his knees and prayed God that he might one day +navigate those waters," which no English keel as yet had furrowed. + +The time and the opportunity had come. He was now in the prime of his +strength, thirty-two years old, of middle height, with crisp brown hair, +a broad high forehead; gray, steady eyes, unusually long; small ears +tight to the head; the mouth and chin slightly concealed by the +moustache and beard, but hard, inflexible, and fierce. His dress, as he +appears in his portrait, is a loose, dark, seaman's shirt, belted at the +waist. About his neck is a plaited cord with a ring attached to it, in +which, as if the attitude was familiar, one of his fingers is slung, +displaying a small, delicate, but long and sinewy hand. When at sea he +wore a scarlet cap with a gold band, and was exacting in the respect +with which he required to be treated by his crew. + +Such was Francis Drake when he stood on the deck of the Pelican in +Plymouth harbour, in November, 1577. The squadron, with which he was +preparing to sail into a chartless ocean and invade the dominions of the +King of Spain, consisted of his own ship, of a hundred and twenty tons, +the size of the smallest class of our modern Channel schooners, two +barques of fifty and thirty tons each, a second ship as it was called, +the Elizabeth, of eighty tons, not larger than a common revenue cutter, +and a pinnace, hardly more than a boat, intended to be burnt if it +could not bear the seas. These vessels, with a hundred and sixty-four +men, composed the force. The object of the expedition was kept as far as +possible secret. On the fifteenth of November the expedition sailed from +Plymouth Sound. The vessels struck across the Atlantic and made the +coast of South America on the fifth of April in latitude thirty-three +degrees South. + +The perils of the voyage were now about to commence. No Englishman had +as yet passed Magellan's Strait. Cape Horn was unknown. Tierra del Fuego +was supposed to be part of a solid continent which stretched unbroken to +the Antarctic pole. A single narrow channel was the only access to the +Pacific then believed to exist. There were no charts, no records of past +experiences. It was known that Magellan had gone through, but that was +all. It was the wildest and coldest season of the year, and the vessels +in which the attempt was to be made were mere cockle-shells. They were +taken on shore, overhauled and scoured, the rigging looked to, and the +sails new bent. + +On the seventeenth of August, answering to the February of the northern +hemisphere, all was once more in order. Drake sailed from Port St. +Julian, and on the twentieth entered the Strait and felt his way between +the walls of mountain "in extreme cold with frost and cold continually." +To relieve the crews, who were tried by continual boat work and heaving +the lead in front of the ships, they were allowed occasional halts at +the islands, where they amused and provisioned themselves with killing +infinite seals and penguins. Everything which they saw, birds, beasts, +trees, climate, country, were strange, wild, and wonderful. After three +weeks' toil and anxiety, they had accomplished the passage and found +themselves in the open Pacific. But they found also that it was no +peaceful ocean into which they had entered, but the stormiest they had +ever encountered. Their vessels were now reduced to three; the pinnace +had been left behind at Port St. Julian, and there remained only the +Pelican, the Elizabeth, and the thirty-ton cutter. Instantly that they +emerged out of the Strait, they were caught in a gale which swept them +six hundred miles to the south-west. For six weeks they were battered to +and fro, in bitter cold and winds which seemed as if they blew in these +latitudes for ever. The cutter went down in the fearful seas, carrying +her crew with her. The Elizabeth and the Pelican were separated. The +bravest sailor might well have been daunted at such a commencement, and +Winter, recovering the opening again and, believing Drake to be lost, +called a council in his cabin and proposed to return to England. They +had agreed to meet, if they were parted, on the coast in the latitude of +Valparaiso. The men, with better heart than their commander, desired to +keep the appointment. But those terrible weeks had sickened Winter. He +overruled the opinions of the rest, re-entered the Strait, and reached +England in the following June. + +Drake, meanwhile, had found shelter among the islands of Tierra del +Fuego. At length spring brought fair winds and smooth seas, and running +up the coast and looking about for her consort, the Pelican or Golden +Hind--for she had both names--fell in with an Indian fisherman, who +informed Drake that in the harbour of Valparaiso, already a small +Spanish settlement, there lay a great galleon which had come from Peru. +Galleons were the fruit that he was in search of. He sailed in, and the +Spanish seamen, who had never yet seen a stranger in those waters, ran +up their flags, beat their drums, and prepared a banquet for their +supposed countrymen. The Pelican shot up alongside. The English sailors +leaped on board, and one "Thomas Moore," a lad from Plymouth, began the +play with knocking down the first man that he met, saluting him in +Spanish as he fell, and crying out "Down, dog." The Spaniards, +overwhelmed with surprise, began to cross and bless themselves. One +sprang overboard and swam ashore; the rest were bound and stowed away +under the hatches while the ship was rifled. The beginning was not a bad +one. Wedges of gold were found weighing four hundred pounds, besides +miscellaneous plunder. The settlement, which was visited next, was less +productive, for the inhabitants had fled, taking their valuables with +them. + +At Arica, the port of Potosi, fifty-seven blocks of precious metal were +added to the store; and from thence they made haste to Lima, where the +largest booty was looked for. They found that they had just missed it. +Twelve ships lay at anchor in the port without arms, without crews, and +with their sails on shore. In all of these they discovered but a few +chests of reals and some bales of silk and linen. A thirteenth, called +by the seamen the Cacafuego, but christened in her baptism "Our Lady of +the Conception," had sailed for the Isthmus a few days before, taking +with her all the bullion which the mines had yielded for the season. She +had been literally ballasted with silver, and carried also several +precious boxes of gold and jewels. + +Not a moment was lost. The cables of the ships at Lima were cut, and +they were left to drive on shore to prevent pursuit; and then away sped +the Pelican due north, with every stitch of her canvas spread. A gold +chain was promised to the first man who caught sight of the Cacafuego. A +sail was seen the second day of the chase: it was not the vessel which +they were in pursuit of, but the prize was worth the having. They took +eighty pounds' weight of gold in wedges, the purest which they yet had +seen. + +For eight hundred miles the Pelican flew on. At length, one degree to +the north of the line, off Quito, and close to the shore, a look-out on +the mast-head cried out that he saw the chase and claimed the promised +chain; she was recognized by the peculiarities in her sails, of which +they had received exact information at Lima. There lay the Cacafuego; if +they could take her their work would be done, and they might go home in +triumph. She was several miles ahead of them; if she guessed their +character, she would run in under the land, and they might lose her. It +was afternoon: several hours remained of daylight, and Drake did not +wish to come up with her till dark. + +The Pelican sailed two feet to the Cacafuego's one, and dreading that +her speed might rouse suspicion, he filled his empty wine casks with +water and trailed them astern. The chase meanwhile unsuspecting, and +glad of company on a lonely voyage, slackened sail and waited for her +slow pursuer. The sun sank low, and at last set into the ocean, and +then, when both ships had become invisible from the land, the casks were +hoisted in, the Pelican was restored to her speed, and shooting up +within a cable's length of the Cacafuego, hailed to her to run into the +wind. The Spanish commander, not understanding the meaning of such an +order, paid no attention to it. The next moment the corsair opened her +ports, fired a broadside, and brought his main-mast about his ears. His +decks were cleared by a shower of arrows, with one of which he was +himself wounded. In a few minutes more he was a prisoner, and his ship +and all that it contained was in the hands of the English. The wreck +was cut away, the ship cleared, and her head turned to the sea; by +daybreak even the line of the Andes had become invisible, and at +leisure, in the open ocean, the work of rifling began. The full value of +the plunder taken in this ship was never actually confessed. It remained +a secret between Drake and the Queen. In a schedule afterwards +published, he acknowledged to have found in the Cacafuego alone +twenty-six tons of silver bullion, thirteen chests of coined silver, and +almost a hundredweight of gold. But this was only so much as the +Spaniards could prove to have been on board. + +Drake imagined, like most other English seamen, that there was a passage +to the north corresponding to Magellan's Strait, of which Frobisher +conceived that he had found the eastern entrance. He went on therefore +at his leisure towards the coast of Mexico, intending to follow the +shore till he found it. Another ship coming from China crossed him on +his way loaded with silks and porcelain. He took the best of the freight +with a golden falcon and a superb emerald. Then needing fresh water he +touched at the Spanish settlement of Guatulco. + +The work of plunder was nearly over. Again sailing north, the Pelican +fell in with a Spanish nobleman who was going out as Governor to the +Philippines. He was detained a few hours and relieved of his finery, and +then, says one of the party: "Our general, thinking himself both in +respect of his private injuries received from the Spaniards, as also +their contempt and indignities offered to our country and prince in +general, sufficiently satisfied and revenged, and supposing her Majesty +would rest contented with this service, began to consider the best way +for his country." + +The first necessity was a complete repair of the Pelican's hull. Before +the days of copper sheathing, the ships' bottoms grew foul with weed; +the great barnacles formed in clusters and stopped their speed, and the +sea-worms bored holes into the planking. Twenty thousand miles of +unknown water lay between Drake and Plymouth Sound, and he was not a man +to run idle risks. Running on till he had left the furthest Spanish +station far to the south, he put into the Bay of Canoa in Lower +California. There he laid his ship on shore, set up forge and workshop, +and refitted her with a month's labour from stem to stern. + +By the sixteenth of April, 1579, the Pelican was once more in order, and +started on her northern course in search of the expected passage. She +held on up the coast for eight hundred miles into latitude forty-three +degrees North, but no signs appeared of an opening. Though it was summer +the air grew colder, and the crew having been long in the tropics +suffered from the change. Not caring to run risks in exploring with so +precious a cargo, and finding by observation that the passage, if it +existed, must be of enormous length, Drake resolved to go no further, +and expecting, as proved to be the case, that the Spaniards would be on +the look-out for him at Magellan's Strait, he determined on the +alternative route by the Cape of Good Hope. The Portuguese had long +traded with China. In the ship going to the Philippines he had found a +Portuguese chart of the Indian Archipelago, and with the help of this +and his own skill he trusted to find his way. + +At the little island of Ternate, south of the Celebes, the ship was +again docked and scraped. The crew were allowed another month's rest, +when they feasted their eyes on the marvels of tropical life, then first +revealed to them in their luxuriance--vampires "as large as hens," +crayfish a foot round, and fireflies lighting the midnight forest. +Starting once more, they had now to feel their way among the rocks and +shoals of the most dangerous waters in the world. They crept round +Celebes among coral reefs and low islands scarcely visible above the +water-line. The Malacca Straits formed the only route marked in the +Portuguese chart, and between Drake and his apparent passage lay the +Java Sea and the channel between Borneo and Sumatra. But it was not +impossible that there might be some other opening, and the Pelican +crawled in search of it along the Java coast. Here, if nowhere else, her +small size and manageableness were in her favour. In spite of all the +care that was taken, she was almost lost. One evening as the black +tropical night was closing, a grating sound was heard under her keel: +another moment she was hard and fast upon an invisible reef. The breeze +was light and the water calm, or the world would have heard no more of +Francis Drake and the Pelican. She lay immovable till morning; "we were +out of all hope to escape danger," but with the daylight the position +was seen not to be utterly desperate. "Our general, then as always, +showed himself most courageous, and of good confidence in the mercy and +protection of God; and as he would not seem to perish wilfully, so he +and we did our best endeavour to save ourselves, and in the end cleared +ourselves of that danger." + +The Pelican had no more adventures; and sweeping in clear fine weather +close to the Cape of Good Hope, and touching for water at Sierra Leone, +she sailed in triumph into Plymouth harbour in the beginning of October, +having marked a furrow with her keel round the globe. + +Froude: "History of England." +(Adapted) + + + + + Who, if he rise to station of command, + Rises by open means; and there will stand + On honourable terms, or else retire, + And in himself possess his own desire; + Who comprehends his trust, and to the same + Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim; + And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait + For wealth, or honours, or for worldly state: + Whom they must follow; on whose head must fall, + Like showers of manna, if they come at all. + +Wordsworth: "The Happy Warrior." + + + + +THE SOLITARY REAPER + + + Behold her, single in the field, + Yon solitary Highland Lass! + Reaping and singing by herself; + Stop here, or gently pass! + Alone she cuts and binds the grain, + And sings a melancholy strain; + O listen! for the Vale profound + Is overflowing with the sound. + + No Nightingale did ever chaunt + More welcome notes to weary bands + Of travellers in some shady haunt + Among Arabian sands: + A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard + In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, + Breaking the silence of the seas + Among the farthest Hebrides. + + Will no one tell me what she sings?-- + Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow + For old, unhappy, far-off things, + And battles long ago: + Or is it some more humble lay, + Familiar matter of to-day? + Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, + That has been, and may be again? + + Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang + As if her song could have no ending; + I saw her singing at her work, + And o'er the sickle bending;-- + I listened, motionless and still; + And, as I mounted up the hill, + The music in my heart I bore + Long after it was heard no more. + +Wordsworth + + + + +CLOUDS, RAINS, AND RIVERS + + +Every occurrence in Nature is preceded by other occurrences which are +its causes, and succeeded by others which are its effects. The human +mind is not satisfied with observing and studying any natural occurrence +alone, but takes pleasure in connecting every natural fact with what has +gone before it, and with what is to come after it. Thus, when we enter +upon the study of rivers, our interest will be greatly increased by +taking into account, not only their actual appearances but also their +causes and effects. + +Let us trace a river to its source. Beginning where it empties itself +into the sea, and following it backwards, we find it from time to time +joined by tributaries which swell its waters. The river, of course, +becomes smaller as these tributaries are passed. It shrinks first to a +brook, then to a stream; this again divides itself into a number of +smaller streamlets, ending in mere threads of water. These constitute +the source of the river, and are usually found among hills. Thus, the +Severn has its source in the Welsh Mountains; the Thames in the Cotswold +Hills; the Rhine and the Rhone in the Alps; the Missouri in the Rocky +Mountains; and the Amazon in the Andes of Peru. + +But it is quite plain, that we have not yet reached the real beginning +of the rivers. Whence do the earliest streams derive their water? A +brief residence among the mountains would prove to you that they are fed +by rains. In dry weather you would find the streams feeble, sometimes +indeed quite dried up. In wet weather you would see them foaming +torrents. In general these streams lose themselves as little threads of +water upon the hillsides; but sometimes you may trace a river to a +definite spring. You may, however, very soon assure yourself that such +springs are also fed by rain, which has percolated through the rocks or +soil, and which, through some orifice that it has found or formed, comes +to the light of day. + +But we cannot end here. Whence comes the rain which forms the mountain +streams? Observation enables you to answer the question. Rain does not +come from a clear sky. It comes from clouds. But what are clouds? Is +there nothing you are acquainted with, which they resemble? You discover +at once a likeness between them and the condensed steam of a locomotive. +At every puff of the engine, a cloud is projected into the air. Watch +the cloud sharply: you notice that it first forms at a little distance +from the top of the funnel. Give close attention, and you will sometimes +see a perfectly clear space between the funnel and the cloud. Through +that clear space the thing which makes the cloud must pass. What, then, +is this thing which at one moment is transparent and invisible, and at +the next moment visible as a dense opaque cloud? + +It is the _steam_ or _vapour of water_ from the boiler. Within the +boiler this steam is transparent and invisible; but to keep it in this +invisible state a heat would be required as great as that within the +boiler. When the vapour mingles with the cold air above the hot funnel, +it ceases to be vapour. Every bit of steam shrinks, when chilled, to a +much more minute particle of water. The liquid particles thus produced +form a kind of _water-dust_ of exceeding fineness, which floats in the +air, and is called a _cloud_. + +Watch the cloud-banner from the funnel of a running locomotive; you see +it growing gradually less dense. It finally melts away altogether; and +if you continue your observations, you will not fail to notice that the +speed of its disappearance depends upon the character of the day. In +humid weather the cloud hangs long and lazily in the air; in dry weather +it is rapidly licked up. What has become of it? It has been reconverted +into true invisible vapour. + +The _drier_ the air, and the _hotter_ the air, the greater is the amount +of cloud which can be thus dissolved in it. When the cloud first forms, +its quantity is far greater than the air is able to maintain in an +invisible state. But, as the cloud mixes gradually with a larger mass of +air, it is more and more dissolved, and finally passes altogether from +the condition of a finely-divided liquid into that of transparent vapour +or gas. + +Make the lid of a kettle air-tight, and permit the steam to issue from +the spout; a cloud is formed in all respects similar to that issuing +from the funnel of the locomotive. To produce the cloud, in the case of +the locomotive and the kettle, _heat_ is necessary. By heating the water +we first convert it into steam, and then by chilling the steam we +convert it into cloud. Is there any fire in Nature which produces the +clouds of our atmosphere? There is: the fire of the sun. + +When the sunbeams fall upon the earth, they heat it, and also the water +which lies on its surface, whether it be in large bodies, such as seas +or rivers, or in the form of moisture. The water being thus warmed, a +part of it is given off in the form of aqueous vapour, just as invisible +vapour passes off from a boiler when the water in it is heated by fire. +This vapour mingles with the air in contact with the earth. The +vapour-charged air, being heated by the warm earth, expands, becomes +lighter, and rises. It expands also, as it rises, because the pressure +of the air above it becomes less and less with the height it attains. +But an expanding body always becomes colder as the result of its +expansion. Thus the vapour-laden air is chilled by its expansion. It is +also chilled by coming in contact with the colder, higher air. The +consequence is that the invisible vapour which it contains is chilled, +and forms into tiny water-drops, like the steam from a kettle or the +funnel of the locomotive. And so, as the air rises and becomes colder, +the vapour gathers into visible masses, which we call clouds. + +This ascending moist air might become chilled, too, by meeting with a +current of cold, dry air, and then clouds would be formed; and should +this chilling process continue in either case until the water-drops +become heavier than the surrounding air, they would fall to the earth as +raindrops. Rain is, therefore, but a further stage in the condensation +of aqueous vapour caused by the chilling of the air. + +Mountains also assist in the formation of clouds. When a wind laden with +moisture strikes against a mountain, it is tilted and flows up its side. +The air expands as it rises, the vapour is chilled and becomes visible +in the form of clouds, and if sufficiently chilled, it comes down to the +earth in the form of rain, hail, or snow. + +Thus, by tracing a river backwards, from its end to its real beginning, +we come at length to the sun; for it is the sun that produces aqueous +vapour, from which, as we have seen, clouds are formed, and it is from +clouds that water falls to the earth to become the sources of rivers. + +There are, however, rivers which have sources somewhat different from +those just mentioned. They do not begin by driblets on a hillside, nor +can they be traced to a spring. Go, for example, to the mouth of the +river Rhone, and trace it backwards. You come at length to the Lake of +Geneva, from which the river rushes, and which you might be disposed to +regard as the source of the Rhone. But go to the head of the lake, and +you find that the Rhone there enters it; that the lake is, in fact, an +expansion of the river. Follow this upwards; you find it joined by +smaller rivers from the mountains right and left. Pass these, and push +your journey higher still. You come at length to a huge mass of ice--the +end of a glacier--which fills the Rhone valley, and from the bottom of +the glacier the river rushes. In the glacier of the Rhone you thus find +the source of the river Rhone. + +But whence come the glaciers? Wherever lofty mountains, like the Alps, +rise into the high parts of the atmosphere where the temperature is +below the freezing-point, the vapour condensed from the air falls upon +them, not as rain, but as snow. In such high mountainous regions, the +heat of the summer melts the snow from the lower hills, but the higher +parts remain covered, for the heat cannot melt all the snow which falls +there in a year. When a considerable depth of snow has accumulated, the +pressure upon the lower layers squeezes them into a firm mass, and after +a time the snow begins to slide down the slope of the mountain. It +passes downward from one slope to another, joined continually by other +sliding masses from neighbouring slopes, until they all unite into one +long tongue, which creeps slowly down some valley to a point where it +melts. This tongue from the snow-fields is called a glacier. + +Without solar fire, therefore, we could have no atmospheric vapour, +without vapour no clouds, without clouds no snow, and without snow no +glaciers. Curious then as the conclusion may be, the cold ice of the +Alps has its origin in this heat of the sun. + +Tyndall: "The Forms of Water." +(Adapted) + + + + + For what are men better than sheep or goats + That nourish a blind life within the brain, + If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer + Both for themselves and those who call them friend? + +Tennyson + + + + +FITZ-JAMES AND RODERICK DHU + + + The Chief in silence strode before, + And reached that torrent's sounding shore, + Which, daughter of three mighty lakes, + From Vennachar in silver breaks, + Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines + On Bochastle the mouldering lines, + Where Rome, the Empress of the world, + Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. + And here his course the Chieftain staid, + Threw down his target and his plaid, + And to the Lowland warrior said-- + "Bold Saxon! to his promise just, + Vich Alpine has discharged his trust. + This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, + This head of a rebellious clan, + Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward, + Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. + Now, man to man, and steel to steel, + A Chieftain's vengeance thou shalt feel. + See here, all vantageless I stand, + Armed, like thyself, with single brand: + For this is Coilantogle ford, + And thou must keep thee with thy sword." + + The Saxon paused:--"I ne'er delayed, + When foeman bade me draw my blade; + Nay, more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death: + Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, + And my deep debt for life preserved, + A better meed have well deserved: + Can nought but blood our feud atone? + Are there no means?"--"No, Stranger, none; + And hear,--to fire thy flagging zeal,-- + The Saxon cause rests on thy steel; + For thus spoke Fate, by prophet bred + Between the living and the dead: + 'Who spills the foremost foeman's life, + His party conquers in the strife.'"-- + "Then, by my word," the Saxon said, + "The riddle is already read. + Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff,-- + There lies Red Murdoch, stark and stiff. + Thus Fate has solved her prophecy, + Then yield to Fate, and not to me. + To James, at Stirling, let us go, + When, if thou wilt be still his foe, + Or if the King shall not agree + To grant thee grace and favour free, + I plight mine honour, oath, and word, + That, to thy native strengths restored, + With each advantage shalt thou stand, + That aids thee now to guard thy land." + + Dark lightning flashed from Roderick's eye-- + "Soars thy presumption, then, so high, + Because a wretched kern ye slew, + Homage to name to Roderick Dhu? + He yields not, he, to man nor Fate! + Thou add'st but fuel to my hate:-- + My clansman's blood demands revenge. + Not yet prepared?--By heaven, I change + My thought, and hold thy valour light + As that of some vain carpet knight, + Who ill deserved my courteous care, + And whose best boast is but to wear + A braid of his fair lady's hair."-- + "I thank thee, Roderick, for the word! + It nerves my heart, it steels my sword; + For I have sworn this braid to stain + In the best blood that warms thy vein. + Now, truce, farewell! and, ruth, begone!-- + Yet think not that by thee alone, + Proud Chief! can courtesy be shown; + Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, + Start at my whistle clansmen stern, + Of this small horn one feeble blast + Would fearful odds against thee cast. + But fear not--doubt not--which thou wilt-- + We try this quarrel hilt to hilt."-- + Then each at once his falchion drew, + Each on the ground his scabbard threw, + Each looked to sun, and stream, and plain, + As what they ne'er might see again; + Then foot, and point, and eye opposed, + In dubious strife they darkly closed. + + Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, + That on the field his targe he threw, + Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide + Had death so often dashed aside; + For, trained abroad his arms to wield, + Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. + He practised every pass and ward, + To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard; + While less expert, though stronger far, + The Gael maintained unequal war. + Three times in closing strife they stood, + And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood; + No stinted draught, no scanty tide, + The gushing flood the tartans dyed. + Fierce Roderick felt the fatal drain, + And showered his blows like wintry rain; + And, as firm rock, or castle-roof, + Against the winter shower is proof, + The foe, invulnerable still, + Foiled his wild rage by steady skill; + Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand + Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, + And backward borne upon the lea, + Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee. + + "Now, yield thee, or by Him who made + The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade!"-- + "Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy! + Let recreant yield, who fears to die." + --Like adder darting from his coil, + Like wolf that dashes through the toil, + Like mountain-cat who guards her young, + Full at Fitz-James's throat he sprung; + Received, but recked not of a wound, + And locked his arms his foeman round.-- + Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own! + No maiden's hand is round thee thrown! + That desperate grasp thy frame might feel, + Through bars of brass and triple steel!-- + They tug, they strain! down, down they go, + The Gael above, Fitz-James below. + The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed, + His knee was planted on his breast; + His clotted locks he backward threw, + Across his brow his hand he drew, + From blood and mist to clear his sight, + Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright!-- + --But hate and fury ill supplied + The stream of life's exhausted tide, + And all too late the advantage came, + To turn the odds of deadly game; + For, while the dagger gleamed on high, + Reeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye, + Down came the blow! but in the heath + The erring blade found bloodless sheath. + The struggling foe may now unclasp + The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp; + Unwounded from the dreadful close, + But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. + +Scott: "The Lady of the Lake." + + + + +THE INDIGNATION OF NICHOLAS NICKLEBY + +("Nicholas Nickleby" deals with the gross mismanagement of schools in +Yorkshire, England. Squeers, a vulgar, crafty despot, is head of +Dotheboys Hall. Nicholas is an usher or undermaster in the school; +Smike, a little, friendless, starved pupil who has run away to escape +from drudgery and harshness.) + + +"He is off," said Mrs. Squeers. "The cow-house and stable are locked up, +so he can't be there; and he's not down-stairs anywhere, for the girl +has looked. He must have gone York way, and by a public road, too." + +"Why must he?" inquired Squeers. + +"Stupid!" said Mrs. Squeers, angrily. "He hadn't any money, had he?" + +"Never had a penny of his own in his whole life, that I know of," +replied Squeers. + +"To be sure," rejoined Mrs. Squeers, "and he didn't take anything to eat +with him; that I'll answer for. Ha! ha! ha!" + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Squeers. + +"Then, of course," said Mrs. S., "he must beg his way, and he could do +that nowhere but on the public road." + +"That's true," exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands. + +"True! yes; but you would never have thought of it for all that, if I +hadn't said so," replied his wife. "Now, if you take the chaise and go +one road, and I borrow Swallow's chaise and go the other, what with +keeping our eyes open, and asking questions, one or other of us is +pretty sure to lay hold of him." + +The worthy lady's plan was adopted and put in execution without a +moment's delay. After a hasty breakfast, and the prosecution of some +inquiries in the village, the result of which seemed to show that he was +on the right track, Squeers started forth in the pony-chaise, intent +upon discovery and vengeance. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Squeers, arrayed +in the white topcoat and tied up in various shawls and handkerchiefs, +issued forth in another chaise in another direction, taking with her a +good-sized bludgeon, several odd pieces of strong cord, and a stout +labouring man; all provided and carried upon the expedition with the +sole object of assisting in the capture, and (once caught) insuring the +safe custody of the unfortunate Smike. + +Nicholas remained behind, in a tumult of feeling, sensible that whatever +might be the upshot of the boy's flight, nothing but painful and +deplorable consequences were likely to ensue from it. Death, from want +and exposure to the weather, was the best that could be expected from +the protracted wanderings of so poor and helpless a creature, alone and +unfriended, through a country of which he was wholly ignorant. There was +little, perhaps, to choose between this fate and a return to the tender +mercies of the Yorkshire school: but the unhappy being had established a +hold upon his sympathy and compassion, which made his heart ache at the +prospect of the suffering he was destined to undergo. He lingered on in +restless anxiety, picturing a thousand possibilities, until the evening +of the next day when Squeers returned alone and unsuccessful. + +"No news of the scamp!" said the schoolmaster, who had evidently been +stretching his legs, on the old principle, not a few times during the +journey. "I'll have consolation for this out of somebody, Nickleby, if +Mrs. Squeers don't hunt him down. So I give you fair warning." + +"It is not in my power to console you, sir," said Nicholas. "It is +nothing to me." + +"Isn't it?" said Squeers, in a threatening manner. "We shall see!" + +"We shall," rejoined Nicholas. + +"Here's the pony run right off his legs, and me obliged to come home +with a hack cob, that'll cost fifteen shillings besides other expenses," +said Squeers; "who's to pay for that, do you hear?" + +Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and remained silent. + +"I'll have it out of somebody, I tell you," said Squeers, his usual +harsh, crafty manner changed to open bullying. "None of your whining +vapourings here, Mr. Puppy: but be off to your kennel, for it's past +your bed-time! Come, get out!" + +Nicholas bit his lip and knit his hands involuntarily, for his finger +ends tingled to avenge the insult; but remembering that the man was +drunk, and that it could come to little but a noisy brawl, he contented +himself with darting a contemptuous look at the tyrant and walked, as +majestically as he could, upstairs, and sternly resolved that the +outstanding account between himself and Mr. Squeers should be settled +rather more speedily than the latter anticipated. + +Another day came, and Nicholas was scarcely awake when he heard the +wheels of a chaise approaching the house. It stopped. The voice of Mrs. +Squeers was heard, and in exultation, ordering a glass of spirits for +somebody, which was in itself a sufficient sign that something +extraordinary had happened. Nicholas hardly dared to look out of the +window; but he did so, and the very first object that met his eyes was +the wretched Smike; so bedabbled with mud and rain, so haggard and worn, +and wild, that, but for his garments being such as no scarecrow was ever +seen to wear, he might have been doubtful, even then, of his identity. + +"Lift him out," said Squeers, after he had literally feasted his eyes in +silence upon the culprit. "Bring him in; bring him in!" + +"Take care," cried Mrs. Squeers, as her husband proffered his +assistance. "We tied his legs under the apron and made 'em fast to the +chaise, to prevent him giving us the slip again." + +With hands trembling with delight, Squeers unloosed the cord; and Smike, +to all appearances more dead than alive, was brought into the house and +securely locked up in a cellar, until such time as Mr. Squeers should +deem it expedient to operate upon him, in the presence of the assembled +school. + +The news that Smike had been caught and brought back in triumph ran like +wild fire through the hungry community, and expectation was on tiptoe +all morning. On tiptoe it was destined to remain, however, until +afternoon; when Squeers, having refreshed himself with his dinner and +further strengthened himself by an extra libation or so, made his +appearance (accompanied by his amiable partner) with a countenance of +portentous import, and a fearful instrument of flagellation, strong, +supple, wax-ended, and new--in short, purchased that morning expressly +for the occasion. + +"Is every boy here?" asked Squeers, in a tremendous voice. + +Every boy was there, but every boy was afraid to speak; so Squeers +glared along the lines to assure himself; and every eye dropped, and +every head cowered down, as he did so. + +"Each boy keep his place," said Squeers, administering his favourite +blow to the desk and regarding with gloomy satisfaction the universal +start it never failed to occasion. + +"Nickleby! to your desk, sir." + +It was remarked by more than one small observer that there was a very +curious and unusual expression in the usher's face; but he took his seat +without opening his lips in reply. Squeers, casting a triumphant glance +at his assistant and a look of most comprehensive despotism on the boys, +left the room, and shortly afterward returned, dragging Smike by the +collar--or rather by that fragment of his jacket which was nearest to +the place where his collar would have been, had he boasted such a +decoration. + +In any other place, the appearance of the wretched, jaded, spiritless +object would have occasioned a murmur of compassion and remonstrance. It +had some effect even there; for the lookers-on moved uneasily in their +seats; and a few of the boldest ventured to steal looks at each other, +expressive of indignation and pity. + +They were lost on Squeers, however, whose gaze was fastened on the +luckless Smike, as he inquired, according to custom in such cases, +whether he had anything to say for himself. + +"Nothing, I suppose?" said Squeers, with a diabolical grin. + +Smike glanced round, and his eyes rested for an instant on Nicholas, as +if he had expected him to intercede; but his look was riveted on his +desk. + +"Have you anything to say?" demanded Squeers again, giving his right arm +two or three flourishes to try its power and suppleness. + +"Stand a little out of the way, Mrs. Squeers, my dear; I've hardly got +enough room." + +"Spare me, sir!" cried Smike. + +"Oh! that's all, is it?" said Squeers. "Yes, I'll flog you within an +inch of your life, and spare you that." + +"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mrs. Squeers, "that's a good un!" + +"I was driven to it," said Smike, faintly; and casting another imploring +look about him. + +"Driven to it, were you?" said Squeers. "Oh! it wasn't your fault; it +was mine, I suppose--eh?" + +"A nasty, ungrateful, pig-headed, brutish, obstinate, sneaking dog," +exclaimed Mrs. Squeers, taking Smike's head under her arm and +administering a cuff at every epithet; "what does he mean by that?" + +"Stand aside, my dear," replied Squeers. "We'll try and find out." + +Mrs. Squeers being out of breath with her exertions, complied. Squeers +caught the boy firmly in his grip; one desperate cut had fallen on his +body--he was wincing from the lash and uttering a scream of pain--it was +raised again, and again about to fall--when Nicholas Nickleby, suddenly +starting up, cried "Stop!" in a voice that made the rafters ring. + +"Who cried stop?" asked Squeers, turning savagely round. + +"I," said Nicholas, stepping forward. "This must not go on." + +"Must not go on!" cried Squeers, almost in a shriek. + +"No!" thundered Nicholas. + +Aghast and stupefied at the boldness of the interference, Squeers +released his hold of Smike, and, falling back a pace, gazed upon +Nicholas with looks that were positively frightful. + +"I say must not," repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted; "shall not, I will +prevent it." + +Squeers continued to gaze upon him with his eyes starting out of his +head; but astonishment had actually for the moment bereft him of +speech. + +"You have disregarded all my quiet interference in this miserable lad's +behalf," said Nicholas; "you have returned no answer to the letter in +which I begged forgiveness for him and offered to be responsible that he +would remain quietly here. Don't blame me for this public interference. +You have brought it upon yourself; not I." + +"Sit down, beggar!" screamed Squeers, almost beside himself with rage, +and seizing Smike as he spoke. + +"Wretch," rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, "touch him at your peril! I will +not stand by and see it done. My blood is up, and I have the strength of +ten such men as you. Look to yourself, for by Heaven I will not spare +you, if you drive me on!" + +"Stand back!" cried Squeers, brandishing his weapon. + +"I have a long series of insults to avenge," said Nicholas, flushed with +passion; "and my indignation is aggravated by the dastardly cruelties +practised on helpless infancy in this foul den. Have a care; for if you +do raise the devil within me, the consequences shall fall heavily upon +your own head!" + +He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers in a violent outbreak of wrath, +and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, spat upon him and struck +him a blow across the face with his instrument of torture, which raised +a bar of livid flesh as it was inflicted. Smarting with the agony of the +blow, and concentrating into that one moment all his feelings of rage, +scorn, and indignation, Nicholas sprang upon him, wrested the weapon +from his hand, and pinning him by the throat beat the ruffian till he +roared for mercy. + +The boys--with the exception of Master Squeers, who, coming to his +father's assistance, harassed the enemy in the rear--moved not hand or +foot; but Mrs. Squeers, with many shrieks for aid, hung on to the tail +of her partner's coat and endeavoured to drag him from his infuriated +adversary; while Miss Squeers, who had been peeping through the keyhole +in the expectation of a very different scene, darted in at the very +beginning of the attack, and after launching a shower of inkstands at +the usher's head, beat Nicholas to her heart's content; animating +herself, at every blow, with the recollection of his having refused her +proffered love, and thus imparting additional strength to an arm which +(as she took after her mother in this respect) was, at no time, of the +weakest. + +Nicholas, in the full strength of his violence, felt the blows no more +than if they had been dealt with feathers; but, becoming tired of the +noise and uproar, and feeling that his arm grew weaker besides, he threw +all his remaining strength into half a dozen finishing cuts, and flung +Squeers from him, with all the force he could muster. The violence of +his fall precipitated Mrs. Squeers completely over an adjacent form; +Squeers, striking his head against it in his descent, lay at his full +length on the ground, stunned and motionless. + +Having brought affairs to this happy termination, and ascertained, to +his thorough satisfaction, that Squeers was only stunned, and not dead +(upon which point he had some unpleasant doubts at first), Nicholas left +his family to restore him, and retired to consider what course he had +better adopt. He looked anxiously round for Smike, as he left the room, +but he was nowhere to be seen. + +After a brief consideration, he packed up a few clothes in a small +valise, and, finding that nobody offered to oppose his progress, marched +boldly out by the front door, and, shortly afterward, struck into the +road which led to the Greta Bridge. + +Dickens: "Nicholas Nickleby." + + + + +DICKENS IN THE CAMP + + + Above the pines the moon was slowly drifting, + The river sang below; + The dim Sierras, far beyond, uplifting + Their minarets of snow. + + The roaring camp-fire, with rude humour, painted + The ruddy tints of health + On haggard face and form that drooped and fainted + In the fierce race for wealth; + + Till one arose, and from his pack's scant treasure + A hoarded volume drew, + And cards were dropped from hands of listless leisure + To hear the tale anew. + + And then, while round them shadows gathered faster, + And as the firelight fell, + He read aloud the book wherein the Master + Had writ of "Little Nell." + + Perhaps 'twas boyish fancy,--for the reader + Was youngest of them all,-- + But, as he read, from clustering pine and cedar + A silence seemed to fall; + + The fir trees, gathering closer in the shadows, + Listened in every spray, + While the whole camp, with "Nell" on English meadows, + Wandered and lost their way. + + And so in mountain solitudes--o'ertaken + As by some spell divine-- + Their cares dropped from them like the needles shaken + From out the gusty pine. + + Lost is that camp and wasted all its fire: + And he who wrought that spell?-- + Ah! towering pine and stately Kentish spire, + Ye have one tale to tell! + + Lost is that camp, but let its fragrant story + Blend with the breath that thrills + With hopvines' incense all the pensive glory + That fills the Kentish hills. + + And on that grave where English oak, and holly, + And laurel wreaths entwine, + Deem it not all a too presumptuous folly,-- + This spray of Western pine! + +Bret Harte + + + + +DOST THOU LOOK BACK ON WHAT HATH BEEN + + + Dost thou look back on what hath been, + As some divinely gifted man, + Whose life in low estate began + And on a simple village green; + + Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, + And grasps the skirts of happy chance, + And breasts the blows of circumstance, + And grapples with his evil star; + + Who makes by force his merit known, + And lives to clutch the golden keys, + To mould a mighty state's decrees, + And shape the whisper of the throne; + + And moving up from high to higher, + Becomes on Fortune's crowning slope + The pillar of a people's hope, + The centre of a world's desire; + + Yet feels, as in a pensive dream, + When all his active powers are still, + A distant dearness in the hill, + A secret sweetness in the stream, + + The limit of his narrower fate, + While yet beside its vocal springs + He played at counsellors and kings, + With one that was his earliest mate; + + Who ploughs with pain his native lea, + And reaps the labour of his hands, + Or in the furrow musing stands; + "Does my old friend remember me?" + +Tennyson: "In Memoriam, LXIV." + + + + +THE PASSING OF ARTHUR + + +And so both hosts dressed them together. And king Arthur took his horse, +and said, Alas this unhappy day, and so rode to his party: and Sir +Mordred in like wise. And never was there seen a more dolefuller battle +in any Christian land. For there was but rushing and riding, foining and +striking, and many a grim word was there spoken either to other, and +many a deadly stroke. But ever king Arthur rode throughout the battle +of Sir Mordred many times, and did full nobly as a noble king should; +and at all times he fainted never. And Sir Mordred that day put him in +great peril. And thus they fought all the long day, and never stinted, +till the noble knights were laid to the cold ground, and ever they +fought still, till it was near night, and by that time was there an +hundred thousand laid dead upon the down. + +Then was Arthur wroth out of measure, when he saw his people so slain +from him. Then the king looked about him, and then was he ware of all +his host, and of all his good knights, were left no more alive but two +knights, that was Sir Lucan de Butlere, and his brother Sir Bedivere: +and they full were sore wounded. Jesu mercy, said the king, where are +all my noble knights becomen. Alas that ever I should see this doleful +day. For now, said Arthur, I am come to mine end. But would to God that +I wist where were that traitor Sir Mordred, that hath caused all this +mischief. Then was king Arthur ware where Sir Mordred leaned upon his +sword among a great heap of dead men. Now give me my spear, said Arthur +unto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the traitor that all this woe +hath wrought. + +Then the king gat his spear in both his hands, and ran toward Sir +Mordred, crying, Traitor, now is thy death day come. And when Sir +Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him with his sword drawn in his +hand. And then king Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with a +foin of his spear throughout the body more than a fathom. And when Sir +Mordred felt that he had his death's wound, he thrust himself, with the +might that he had, up to the bur of king Arthur's spear. And right so he +smote Arthur with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the +head, that the sword pierced the helmet and the brain-pan, and +therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth. And the noble +Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he swooned oft-times. And +Sir Lucan de Butlere and Sir Bedivere oft-times heaved him up, and so +weakly they led him betwixt them both to a little chapel not far from +the sea side. + +Then Sir Lucan took up the king the one part, and Sir Bedivere the other +part, and in the lifting, the king swooned, and Sir Lucan fell in a +swoon with the lift and therewith the noble knight's heart burst. And +when king Arthur came to himself again, he beheld Sir Lucan how he lay +foaming at the mouth. Alas, said the king, this is unto me a full heavy +sight to see this noble duke so die for my sake, for he would have +holpen me that had more need of help than I. Alas, he would not complain +him, his heart was so set to help me. Now Jesu have mercy upon his soul. +Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother. Leave this mourning +and weeping, said the king, for all this will not avail me: for, wit +thou well, and I might live myself the death of Sir Lucan would grieve +me evermore; but my time hieth fast, said the king. + +Therefore, said Arthur, take thou Excalibur, my good sword, and go with +it to yonder water side, and when thou comest there, I charge thee throw +my sword in that water, and come again, and tell me what thou there +seest. My lord, said Bedivere, your commandment shall be done, and +lightly bring you word again. So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way +he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and haft were all of +precious stones, and then he said to himself, If I throw this rich sword +in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm and loss. And then +Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree. And as soon as he might he +came again unto the king, and said he had been at the water, and had +thrown the sword into the water. What sawest thou there? said the king. +Sir, he said, I saw nothing but waves and winds. That is untruly said of +thee, said the king; therefore go thou lightly again, and do my command +as thou art to me lief and dear, spare not, but throw it in. + +Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his hand; and +then him thought sin and shame to throw away that noble sword; and so +eft he hid the sword, and returned again, and told to the king that he +had been at the water, and done his commandment. What sawest thou there? +said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but the waters wap and the +waves wan. Ah traitor, untrue, said king Arthur, now hast thou betrayed +me twice. Who would have wend that thou that hast been to me so lief and +dear, and thou art named a noble knight, and would betray me for the +riches of the sword. But now go again lightly, for thy long tarrying +putteth me in great jeopardy of my life, for I have taken cold. And +unless if thou do now as I bid thee, if ever I may see thee, I shall +slay thee with mine own hands, for thou wouldest for my rich sword see +me dead. + +Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly took it +up, and went to the water side, and there he bound the girdle about the +hilts, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he might, +and there came an arm and an hand above the water, and met it, and +caught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished, and then vanished away +the hand with the sword in the water. So Sir Bedivere came again to the +king, and told him what he saw. Alas, said the king, help me hence, for +I dread me I have tarried over long. + +Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his back, and so went with him to +that water side. And when they were at the water side, even fast by the +bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and among them +all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they wept and +shrieked when they saw king Arthur. Now put me into the barge, said the +king: and so he did softly. And there received him three queens with +great mourning, and so they set him down, and in one of their laps king +Arthur laid his head, and then that queen said, Ah, dear brother, why +have ye tarried so long from me? Alas, this wound on your head hath +caught over much cold. And so then they rowed from the land; and Sir +Bedivere beheld all those ladies go from him. + +Then Sir Bedivere cried, Ah, my lord Arthur, what shall become of me now +ye go from me, and leave me here alone among mine enemies. Comfort +thyself, said the king, and do as well as thou mayest, for in me is no +trust for to trust in. For I will into the vale of Avilion, to heal me +of my grievous wound. And if thou hear never more of me, pray for my +soul. But ever the queens and the ladies wept and shrieked, that it was +pity to hear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the +barge, he wept and wailed, and so took the forest. + +Sir Thomas Malory +Read: Tennyson's Morte D'Arthur. + + + + +THE ARMADA + + + Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble + England's praise; + I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought + in ancient days, + When that great fleet invincible against her + bore in vain + The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest + hearts of Spain. + It was about the lovely close of a warm summer + day, + There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail + to Plymouth Bay; + Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, + beyond Aurigny's isle,[2] + At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving + many a mile. + At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's + especial grace; + And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held + her close in chase. + Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed + along the wall; + The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's + lofty hall; + Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along + the coast, + And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland + many a post. + With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old + sheriff comes; + Behind him march the halberdiers; before him + sound the drums; + His yeomen, round the market-cross, make clear + an ample space; + For there behoves him to set up the standard + of Her Grace. + And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily + dance the bells, + As slow upon the labouring wind the royal + blazon swells. + Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his + ancient crown, + And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay + lilies down. + So stalked he when he turned to flight on that + famed Picard field,[3] + Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's + eagle shield: + So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he + turned to bay, + And crushed and torn beneath his claws the + princely hunters lay. + Ho! strike the flag-staff deep, Sir Knight: ho! + scatter flowers, fair maids: + Ho! gunners fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, + draw your blades: + Thou sun, shine on her joyously; ye breezes + waft her wide; + Our glorious SEMPER EADEM, the banner of our + pride. + The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that + banner's massy fold; + The parting gleam of sunshine kissed the haughty + scroll of gold; + Night sank upon the dusky beach and on the + purple sea, + Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er + again shall be. + From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to + Milford Bay, + That time of slumber was as bright and busy as + the day; + For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly + war-flame spread; + High on St. Michael's Mount it shone: it shone + on Beachy Head. + Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each + southern shire, + Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those + twinkling points of fire. + The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar's + glittering waves: + The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip's + sunless caves: + O'er Longleat's towers, o'er Cranbourne's oaks, + the fiery herald flew: + He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the + rangers of Beaulieu. + Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang + out from Bristol town, + And ere the day three hundred horse had met on + Clifton down; + The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth + into the night, + And saw o'erhanging Richmond Hill the streak + of blood-red light. + Then bugle's note and cannon's roar the + deathlike silence broke, + And with one start, and with one cry, the royal + city woke. + At once on all her stately gates arose the + answering fires; + At once the wild alarum clashed from all her + reeling spires; + From all the batteries of the Tower pealed + loud the voice of fear; + And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back + a louder cheer; + And from the farthest wards was heard the rush + of hurrying feet, + And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed + down each roaring street; + And broader still became the blaze, and louder + still the din, + As fast from every village round the horse came + spurring in: + And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the + warlike errand went, + And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant + squires of Kent. + Southward from Surrey's pleasant hills flew + those bright couriers forth; + High on bleak Hampstead's swarthy moor they + started for the North; + And on, and on, without a pause, untired the + bounded still: + All night from tower to tower they sprang--they + sprang from hill to hill: + Till the proud peak unfurled the flag o'er + Darwin's rocky dales, + Till like volcanoes flared to Heaven the stormy + hills of Wales, + Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on + Malvern's lonely height, + Till streamed in crimson on the wind the + Wrekin's crest of light, + Till broad and fierce the star came forth on + Ely's stately fane, + And tower and hamlet rose in arms o'er all the + boundless plain; + Till Belvoir's lordly terraces the sign to + Lincoln sent, + And Lincoln sped the message on o'er the wide + vale of Trent; + Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt's + embattled pile, + And the red glare of Skiddaw roused the burghers + of Carlisle. + +Macaulay + +FOOTNOTES: +[2] Alderney. +[3] Cressy. + + + + +DEPARTURE AND DEATH OF NELSON + + +Nelson, having despatched his business at Portsmouth, endeavoured to +elude the populace by taking a by-way to the beach, but a crowd +collected in his train, pressing forward to obtain a sight of his face: +many were in tears, and many knelt down before him and blessed him as he +passed. England has had many heroes, but never one who so entirely +possessed the love of his fellow-countrymen as Nelson. All men knew that +his heart was as humane as it was fearless; that there was not in his +nature the slightest alloy of selfishness or cupidity; but that, with +perfect and entire devotion, he served his country with all his heart, +and with all his soul, and with all his strength; and therefore, they +loved him as truly and as fervently as he loved England. They pressed +upon the parapet to gaze after him when his barge pushed off, and he +returned their cheers by waving his hat. The sentinels, who endeavoured +to prevent them from trespassing upon this ground, were wedged among the +crowd; and an officer who, not very prudently upon such an occasion, +ordered them to drive the people down with their bayonets, was compelled +speedily to retreat; for the people would not be debarred from gazing +till the last moment upon the hero--the darling hero of England! + +It had been part of Nelson's prayer, that the British fleet might be +distinguished by humanity in the victory which he expected. Setting an +example himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing on the +Redoubtable, supposing that she had struck, because her guns were +silent; for, as she carried no flag, there was no means of instantly +ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, +he received his death. A ball fired from her mizzen-top, which, in the +then situation of the two vessels, was not more than fifteen yards from +that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulet on his +left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of action. He +fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his poor +secretary's blood. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, +saw three men raising him up. "They have done for me at last, Hardy," +said he. "I hope not," cried Hardy. "Yes," he replied, "my backbone is +shot through." Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of +mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the +tiller ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet replaced, and +ordered that new ones should be rove immediately: then, that he might +not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his +face and his stars. Had he but concealed these badges of honour from the +enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow +the news of the battle of Trafalgar. + +The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men, over whose bodies he +was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the +midshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the +wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all except Captain +Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being +certain, from the sensation in his back and the gush of blood he felt +momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted +that the surgeon should leave him and attend to those to whom he might +be useful; "for," said he, "you can do nothing for me." All that could +be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to give him lemonade +to alleviate his intense thirst. + +He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the +action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, +the crew of the Victory hurrahed; and at each hurrah, a visible +expression of joy gleamed in the eyes and marked the countenance of the +dying hero. But he became impatient to see Hardy; and as that officer, +though often sent for, could not leave the deck, Nelson feared that some +fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried, "Will no one bring +Hardy to me? He must be killed! He is surely dead!" + +An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nelson received his +wound, before Hardy could come to him. They shook hands in silence, +Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful +and yet sublime moment. "Well, Hardy," said Nelson, "how goes the day +with us?" "Very well," replied Hardy: "ten ships have struck, but five +of the van have tacked and show an intention to bear down upon the +Victory. I have called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have +no doubt of giving them a drubbing." "I hope," said Nelson, "none of our +ships have struck." Hardy answered, "There is no fear of that." Then, +and not till then, Nelson spoke of himself. "I am a dead man, Hardy," +said he; "I am going fast; it will be all over with me soon." Hardy +observed that he hoped Mr. Beatty could yet hold out some prospect of +life. "Oh, no," he replied; "it is impossible. My back is shot through. +Beatty will tell you so." Hardy then once more shook hands with him, +and, with a heart almost bursting, hastened upon deck. + +By this time all feeling below the breast was gone, and Nelson, having +made the surgeon ascertain this, said to him: "You know I am gone. I +know it. I feel something rising in my breast," putting his hand on his +left side, "which tells me so." And upon Beatty's inquiring whether his +pain was very great, he replied, it was so great that he wished he was +dead. "Yet," he added in a lower voice, "one would like to live a little +longer, too!" + +Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, +returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, +congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the +enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them +distinctly, but fourteen or fifteen at least. "That's well," said +Nelson; "but I bargained for twenty." And then, in a stronger voice, he +said, "Anchor, Hardy, anchor." Hardy, thereupon, hinted that Admiral +Collingwood would take upon himself the direction of affairs. "Not while +I live, Hardy," said the dying Nelson, ineffectually endeavouring to +raise himself from the bed: "do you anchor." His previous orders for +preparing to anchor had shown how clearly he foresaw the necessity for +this. + +Presently calling Hardy back, he said to him in a low voice, "Don't +throw me overboard:" and he desired that he might be buried beside his +parents, unless it should please the king to order otherwise. Then +reverting to private feelings,--"Kiss me, Hardy," said he. Hardy knelt +down and kissed his cheek; and Nelson said, "Now I am satisfied. Thank +God, I have done my duty!" Hardy stood over him in silence for a moment +or two, then knelt again and kissed his forehead. "Who is that?" said +Nelson; and being informed, he replied, "God bless you, Hardy." And +Hardy then left him for ever. + +Nelson now desired to be turned upon his right side, and said, "I wish I +had not left the deck, for I shall soon be gone." Death was, indeed, +rapidly approaching. His articulation now became difficult, but he was +distinctly heard to say, "Thank God, I have done my duty!" These words +he repeatedly pronounced, and they were the last words which he uttered. +He expired at thirty minutes after four, three hours and a quarter after +he had received his wound. + +The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a public +calamity: men started at the intelligence and turned pale, as if they +had heard of the loss of a near friend. An object of our admiration and +affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from us; +and it seemed as if we had never till then known how deeply we loved and +reverenced him. What the country had lost in its great naval hero--the +greatest of our own and of all former times--was scarcely taken into the +account of grief. So perfectly, indeed, had he performed his part, that +the maritime war, after the battle of Trafalgar, was considered at an +end. The fleets of the enemy were not merely defeated--they were +destroyed: new navies must be built, and a new race of seamen reared for +them, before the possibility of their invading our shores could again +be contemplated. It was not, therefore, from any selfish reflection upon +the magnitude of our loss that we mourned for him; the general sorrow +was of a higher character. + +The people of England grieved that the funeral ceremonies, and public +monuments, and posthumous rewards, were all that they could now bestow +upon him whom the king, the legislature and the nation would have alike +delighted to honour; whom every tongue would have blessed; whose +presence in every village through which he might have passed would have +awakened the church bells, have given school-boys a holiday, have drawn +children from their sports to gaze upon him, and "old men from the +chimney-corner" to look upon Nelson ere they died. + +The victory of Trafalgar was celebrated, indeed, with the usual forms of +rejoicing, but they were without joy; for such already was the glory of +the British navy, through Nelson's surpassing genius, that it scarcely +seemed to receive any addition from the most signal victory that ever +was achieved upon the seas. The destruction of this mighty fleet, by +which all the maritime schemes of France were totally frustrated, hardly +appeared to add to our security and strength; for while Nelson was +living to watch the combined squadrons of the enemy, we felt ourselves +as secure as now, when they were no longer in existence. + +There was reason to suppose, from the appearances upon opening his body, +that in the course of nature he might have attained, like his father, to +a good old age. Yet he cannot be said to have fallen prematurely whose +work was done; nor ought he to be lamented who died so full of honours, +and at the height of human fame. The most triumphant death is that of +the martyr; the most awful, that of the martyred patriot; the most +splendid, that of the hero in the hour of victory; and if the chariot +and the horses of fire had been vouchsafed for Nelson's translation, he +could scarcely have departed in a brighter blaze of glory. He has left +us, not indeed a mantle of inspiration, but a name and an example which +are at this moment inspiring thousands of the youth of England--a name +which is our pride, and an example which will continue to be our shield +and strength. Thus it is that spirits of the great and the wise continue +to live and to act after them. + +Southey + + + + +England expects that every man will do his duty. + +Nelson + + + + +WATERLOO + + + There was a sound of revelry by night, + And Belgium's capital had gathered then + Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright + The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; + A thousand hearts beat happily; and when + Music arose with its voluptuous swell, + Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, + And all went merry as a marriage bell; + But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell! + + Did ye not hear it?--No; 'twas but the wind, + Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; + On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; + No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet + To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet. + But hark!--that heavy sound breaks in once more, + As if the clouds its echo would repeat; + And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before! + Arm! arm! it is--it is--the cannon's opening roar! + + Within a windowed niche of that high hall + Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear + That sound, the first amidst the festival, + And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear; + And when they smiled because he deemed it near, + His heart more truly knew that peal too well + Which stretched his father on a bloody bier, + And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell: + He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell. + + Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, + And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, + And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago + Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; + And there were sudden partings, such as press + The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs + Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess + If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, + Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise! + + And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, + The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, + Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, + And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; + And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; + And near, the beat of the alarming drum + Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; + While thronged the citizens with terror dumb, + Or whispering, with white lips--"The foe! They come! they come!" + + And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering" rose, + The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills + Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:-- + How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills + Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills + Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers + With the fierce native daring which instils + The stirring memory of a thousand years, + And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears! + + And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, + Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass, + Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, + Over the unreturning brave,--alas! + Ere evening to be trodden like the grass + Which now beneath them, but above shall grow + In its next verdure, when this fiery mass + Of living valour, rolling on the foe, + And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. + + Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, + Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, + The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, + The morn the marshalling in arms,--the day + Battle's magnificently stern array! + The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent + The earth is covered thick with other clay, + Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent, + Rider and horse,--friend, foe,--in one red burial blent! + +Byron: "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." + + + + +Show me the man you honour; I know by that symptom better than by any +other, what kind of a man you are yourself; for you show me what your +ideal of manhood is, what kind of a man you long to be. + +Carlyle + + +[Illustration: WATERING THE HORSES] + + + + +ODE WRITTEN IN 1746 + + + How sleep the brave who sink to rest + By all their country's wishes blest! + When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, + Returns to deck their hallowed mould, + She there shall dress a sweeter sod + Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. + + By fairy hands their knell is rung, + By forms unseen their dirge is sung; + There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, + To bless the turf that wraps their clay; + And Freedom shall awhile repair, + To dwell a weeping hermit there! + +William Collins + + + + + To catch dame Fortune's golden smile, + Assiduous wait upon her; + And gather gear by ev'ry wile + That's justified by honour; + Not for to hide it in a hedge, + Nor for a train attendant, + But for the glorious privilege + Of being independent. + +Burns + + + + +BALAKLAVA + + +The cavalry who have been pursuing the Turks on the right are coming up +to the ridge beneath us, which conceals our cavalry from view. The heavy +brigade in advance is drawn up in two lines. The light cavalry brigade +is on their left, in two lines also. The silence is oppressive: between +the cannon bursts one can hear the champing of bits and the clink of +sabres in the valley below. + +The Russians on their left drew breath for a moment and then in one +grand line dashed at the Highlanders. The ground flies beneath their +horses' feet. Gathering speed at every stride they dash on towards that +thin red streak topped with a line of steel. The Turks fire a volley at +eight hundred yards and run. As the Russians come within six hundred +yards, down goes that line of steel in front, and out rings a rolling +volley of Minie musketry. The distance is too great: the Russians are +not checked, but still sweep onward through the smoke with the whole +force of horse and man, here and there knocked over by the shot of our +batteries above. With breathless suspense everyone awaits the bursting +of the wave upon the line of Gaelic rock, but ere they come within a +hundred and fifty yards another deadly volley flashes from the levelled +rifles and carries death and terror into the Russians. They wheel about, +open files right and left, and fly back faster than they came. "Bravo, +Highlanders! well done!" shout the excited spectators. + +But events thicken. The Highlanders and their splendid front are soon +forgotten; men scarcely have a moment to think of this fact, that they +never altered their formation to receive that tide of horsemen. "No," +said Sir Colin Campbell, "I did not think it worth while to form them +even four deep!" The ordinary British line, two deep, was quite +sufficient to repel the attack of these Muscovite cavaliers. + +Our eyes were, however, turned in a moment on our own cavalry. We saw +Brigadier-General Scarlett ride along in front of his massive squadrons. +The Russians, evidently _corps d'elite_, their light blue jackets +embroidered with silver lace, were advancing on their left at an easy +gallop towards the brow of the hill. A forest of lances glistened in +their rear, and several squadrons of gray-coated dragoons moved up +quickly to support them as they reached the summit. The instant they +came in sight the trumpets of our cavalry gave out the warning blast +which told us all that in another moment we should see the shock of +battle beneath our very eyes. Lord Raglan, all his staff and escort and +groups of officers, the Zouaves, French generals and officers, and +bodies of French infantry on the height were spectators of the scene as +though they were looking on the stage from the boxes of a theatre. +Nearly every one dismounted and sat down, and not a word was said. + +The Russians advanced down the hill at a slow canter, which they changed +to a trot, and at last nearly halted. Their first line was at least +double the length of ours--it was three times as deep. Behind them was a +similar line equally strong and compact. They evidently despised their +insignificant-looking enemy: but their time was come. The trumpets rang +out again through the valley, and the Greys and the Enniskilleners went +right at the centre of the Russian cavalry. The space between them was +only a few hundred yards; it was scarcely enough to let the horses +"gather way," nor had the men quite space sufficient for the full play +of their sword-arms. + +The Russian line brings forward each wing as our cavalry advance, and +threatens to annihilate them as they pass on. Turning a little to their +left so as to meet the Russian right the Greys rush on with a cheer that +thrills to every heart--the wild shout of the Enniskilleners rises +through the air at the same instant. As lightning flashes through a +cloud the Greys and Enniskilleners pierced through the dark masses of +Russians. The shock was but for a moment. There was a clash of steel and +a light play of sword-blades in the air, and then the Greys and the +Red-coats disappear in the midst of the shaken and quivering columns. In +another moment we see them emerging and dashing on with diminished +numbers and in broken order against the second line, which is advancing +against them as fast as it can to retrieve the fortune of the charge. It +was a terrible moment. "God help them! they are lost!" was the +exclamation of more than one man and the thought of many. + +With unabated fire, the noble hearts dashed at their enemy. It was a +fight of heroes. The first line of Russians--which had been smashed +utterly by our charge and had fled off at one flank and towards the +centre--was coming back to swallow up our handful of men. By sheer +steel and sheer courage Enniskillener and Scot were winning their +desperate way right through the enemy's squadrons, and already gray +horses and red coats had appeared right at the rear of the second mass, +when, with irresistible force like a bolt from a bow, the second line of +the heavy brigade rushed at the remnants of the first line of the enemy, +went through it as though it were made of paste-board and, dashing on +the second body of Russians as they were still disordered by the +terrible assault of the Greys and their companions, put them to utter +rout. + + * * * * * + +And now occurred the melancholy catastrophe which fills us all with +sorrow. It appears that the Quartermaster-General, Brigadier Airey, +thinking that the light cavalry had not gone far enough in front when +the enemy's horse had fled, gave an order in writing to Captain Nolan to +take to Lord Lucan, directing his lordship "to advance" his cavalry +nearer the enemy. Lord Lucan, with reluctance, gave the order to Lord +Cardigan to advance upon the guns, conceiving that his orders compelled +him to do so. + +It is a maxim of war that "cavalry never act without a support," that +"infantry should be close at hand when cavalry carry guns as the effect +is only instantaneous," and that it is necessary to have on the flank of +a line of cavalry some squadrons in column--the attack on the flank +being most dangerous. The only support our light cavalry had was the +reserve of heavy cavalry at a great distance behind them, the infantry +and guns being far in the rear. There were no squadrons in column at all +and there was a plain to charge over before the enemy's guns could be +reached, of a mile and a half in length! + +At ten minutes past eleven our light cavalry brigade advanced. The whole +brigade scarcely made one effective regiment according to the numbers of +continental armies, and yet it was more than we could spare. As they +rushed towards the front the Russians opened on them from the guns in +the redoubt on the right with volleys of musketry and rifles. They swept +proudly past, glittering in the morning sun in all the pride and +splendour of war. + +We could scarcely believe the evidence of our senses. Surely that +handful of men are not going to charge an army in position? Alas! it +was but too true. Their desperate valour knew no bounds, and far indeed +was it removed from its so-called better part--discretion. They advanced +in two lines, quickening their pace as they closed upon the enemy. A +more fearful spectacle was never witnessed than by those who beheld +these heroes rushing to the arms of Death. + +At the distance of twelve hundred yards, the whole line of the enemy +belched forth from thirty iron mouths a flood of smoke and flame, +through which hissed the deadly balls. Their flight was marked by +instant gaps in our ranks, by dead men and horses, by steeds flying +wounded or riderless across the plain. The first line is broken--it is +joined by the second--they never halt or check their speed an instant. +With diminished ranks thinned by those thirty guns which the Russians +had laid with the most deadly accuracy, with a halo of flashing steel +above their heads, and with a cheer which was many a noble fellow's +death-cry, they flew into the smoke of the batteries, but ere they were +lost from view the plain was strewn with their bodies and with the +carcasses of horses. They were exposed to an oblique fire from the +batteries on the hills on both sides, as well as to a direct fire of +musketry. Through the clouds of smoke we could see their sabres flashing +as they rode up to the guns and dashed into their midst, cutting down +the gunners where they stood. We saw them riding through the guns, as I +have said: to our delight we saw them returning after breaking through a +column of Russian infantry and scattering it like chaff, when the flank +fire of the battery on the hill swept them down scattered and broken as +they were. Wounded men and riderless horses flying towards us told the +sad tale. Demi-gods could not have done what they had failed to do. + +At the very moment when they were about to retreat an enormous mass of +Lancers was hurled on their flank. Colonel Shewell saw the danger and +rode his few men straight to them, cutting his way through with fearful +loss. The other regiments turned and engaged in a desperate encounter. + +With courage too great almost for credence, they were breaking their way +through the columns which enveloped them, when there took place an act +of atrocity without parallel in the modern warfare of civilized nations. +The Russian gunners, when the storm of cavalry passed, returned to their +guns. They saw their own cavalry mingled with the troopers who had just +ridden over them, and, to the eternal disgrace of the Russian name, the +miscreants poured a murderous volley of grape and canister on the mass +of struggling men and horses, mingling friend and foe in one common +ruin! + +It was as much as our heavy cavalry could do to cover the retreat of the +miserable remnants of the band of heroes as they returned to the place +they had so lately quitted. At thirty-five minutes past eleven not a +British soldier, except the dead and the dying, was left in front of +those guns. + +William Howard Russell + + + + +FUNERAL OF WELLINGTON + + + Who is he that cometh, like an honour'd guest, + With banner and with music, with soldier and with priest, + With a nation weeping, and breaking on my rest? + Mighty Seaman, this is he + Was great by land as thou by sea. + Thine island loves thee well, thou famous man, + The greatest sailor since our world began. + Now, to the roll of muffled drums, + To thee the greatest soldier comes; + For this is he + Was great by land as thou by sea; + His foes were thine; he kept us free; + O give him welcome, this is he + Worthy of our gorgeous rites, + And worthy to be laid by thee; + For this is England's greatest son, + He that gain'd a hundred fights, + Nor ever lost an English gun; + + * * * * * + + Remember him who led your hosts; + He bad you guard the sacred coasts. + Your cannons moulder on the seaward wall; + His voice is silent in your council-hall + For ever; and whatever tempests lour + For ever silent; even if they broke + In thunder, silent; yet remember all + He spoke among you, and the Man who spoke; + Who never sold the truth to serve the hour, + Nor palter'd with Eternal God for power; + Who let the turbid streams of rumour flow + Thro' either babbling world of high and low; + Whose life was work, whose language rife + With rugged maxims hewn from life; + Who never spoke against a foe: + Whose eighty winters freeze with one rebuke + All great self-seekers trampling on the right: + Truth-teller was our England's Alfred named; + Truth-lover was our English Duke; + Whatever record leap to life, + He never shall be shamed. + +Tennyson + + + + +IN A CAVE WITH A WHALE + + +Just when the delightful days were beginning to pall upon us, a real +adventure befell us, which, had we been attending strictly to business, +we should not have encountered. For a week previous we had been cruising +constantly without ever seeing a spout, except those belonging to whales +out at sea, whither we knew it was folly to follow them. At last, one +afternoon as we were listlessly lolling (half-asleep, except the +look-out man) across the thwarts, we suddenly came upon a gorge between +two cliffs that we must have passed before several times unnoticed. At a +certain angle it opened, disclosing a wide sheet of water extending a +long distance ahead. I put the helm up, and we ran through the passage, +finding it about a boat's length in width and several fathoms deep, +though overhead the cliffs nearly came together in places. The place was +new to us, and our languor was temporarily dispelled, and we paddled +along, taking in every feature of the shores with keen eyes that let +nothing escape. After we had gone on in this placid manner for maybe an +hour, we suddenly came to a stupendous cliff--that is, for those +parts--rising almost sheer from the water for about a thousand feet. Of +itself it would not have arrested our attention, but at its base was a +semicircular opening, like the mouth of a small tunnel. This looked +alluring, so I headed the boat for it, passing through a deep channel +between two reefs which led straight to the opening. There was ample +room for us to enter, as we had lowered the mast; but just as we were +passing through, a heave of the unnoticed swell lifted us unpleasantly +near the crown of this natural arch. Beneath us, at a great depth, the +bottom could be dimly discerned, the water being of the richest blue +conceivable, which the sun, striking down through, resolved into some +most marvellous colour-schemes in the path of its rays. A delicious +sense of coolness, after the fierce heat outside, saluted us as we +entered a vast hall, whose roof rose to a minimum height of forty feet, +but in places could not be seen at all. A sort of diffused light, weak, +but sufficient to reveal the general contour of the place, existed, let +in, I supposed, through some unseen crevices in the roof or walls. At +first, of course, to our eyes, fresh from the fierce glare outside, the +place seemed wrapped in impenetrable gloom, and we dared not stir lest +we should run into some hidden danger. Before many minutes, however, the +gloom lightened as our pupils enlarged, so that, although the light was +faint, we could find our way about with ease. We spoke in low tones, for +the echoes were so numerous and resonant that even a whisper gave back +from those massy walls in a series of recurring hisses, as if a colony +of snakes had been disturbed. + +We paddled on into the interior of this vast cave, finding everywhere +the walls rising sheer from the silent, dark waters, not a ledge or a +crevice where one might gain foothold. Indeed, in some places there was +a considerable overhang from above, as if a great dome whose top was +invisible sprang from some level below the water. We pushed ahead until +the tiny semi-circle of light through which we had entered was only +faintly visible; and then, finding there was nothing to be seen except +what we were already witnessing, unless we cared to go on into the thick +darkness, which extended apparently into the bowels of the mountain, we +turned and started to go back. Do what we would, we could not venture to +break the solemn hush that surrounded us, as if we were shut within the +dome of some vast cathedral in the twilight. So we paddled noiselessly +along for the exit, till suddenly an awful, inexplicable roar set all +our hearts thumping fit to break our bosoms. Really, the sensation was +most painful, especially as we had not the faintest idea whence the +noise came or what had produced it. Again it filled that immense cave +with its thunderous reverberations; but this time all the sting was +taken out of it, as we caught sight of its author. A goodly +bull-humpback had found his way in after us, and the sound of his spout, +exaggerated a thousand times in the confinement of that mighty cavern, +had frightened us all so that we nearly lost our breath. So far so good; +but, unlike the old negro though we were "doin' blame well," we did not +"let blame well alone." The next spout that intruder gave, he was right +alongside of us. This was too much for the semi-savage instincts of my +gallant harpooner, and before I had time to shout a caution he had +plunged his weapon deep into old Blowhard's broad back. + +I should like to describe what followed, but, in the first place, I +hardly know; and, in the next, even had I been cool and collected, my +recollections would sound like the ravings of a fevered dream. For of +all the hideous uproars conceivable, that was, I should think, about the +worst. The big mammal seemed to have gone frantic with the pain of his +wound, the surprise of the attack, and the hampering confinement in +which he found himself. His tremendous struggles caused such a commotion +that our position could only be compared to that of men shooting Niagara +in a cylinder at night. How we kept afloat, I do not know. Some one had +the gumption to cut the line, so that by the radiation of the +disturbance we presently found ourselves close to the wall, and trying +to hold the boat in to it with our finger tips. Would he never be quiet? +we thought, as the thrashing, banging, and splashing still went on with +unfailing vigour. At last, in, I suppose, one supreme effort to escape, +he leaped clear of the water like a salmon. There was a perceptible +hush, during which we shrank together like unfledged chickens on a +frosty night; then, in a never-to-be-forgotten crash that ought to have +brought down the massy roof, that mountainous carcass fell. The +consequent violent upheaval of the water should have smashed the boat +against the rocky walls, but that final catastrophe was mercifully +spared us. I suppose the rebound was sufficient to keep us a safe +distance off. + +A perfect silence succeeded, during which we sat speechless, awaiting a +resumption of the clamour. At last Abner broke the heavy silence by +saying: "I doan' see the do'way any mo' at all, sir." He was right. The +tide had risen, and that half-moon of light had disappeared, so that we +were now prisoners for many hours, it not being at all probable that we +should be able to find our way out during the night ebb. Well, we were +not exactly children, to be afraid of the dark, although there is +considerable difference between the velvety darkness of a dungeon and +the clear, fresh night of the open air. Still, as long as that beggar of +a whale would only keep quiet or leave the premises, we should be fairly +comfortable. We waited and waited until an hour had passed, and then +came to the conclusion that our friend was either dead or had gone out, +as he gave no sign of his presence. + +That being settled, we anchored the boat, and lit pipes, preparatory to +passing as comfortable a night as might be under the circumstances, the +only thing troubling me being the anxiety of the skipper on our behalf. +Presently the blackness beneath was lit up by a wide band of phosphoric +light, shed in the wake of no ordinary-sized fish, probably an immense +shark. Another and another followed in rapid succession, until the +depths beneath were all ablaze with brilliant foot-wide ribbons of green +glare, dazzling to the eye and bewildering to the brain. Occasionally a +gentle splash or ripple alongside, or a smart tap on the bottom of the +boat, warned us how thick the concourse was that had gathered below. +Until that weariness which no terror is proof against set in, sleep was +impossible, nor could we keep our anxious gaze from that glowing inferno +beneath, where one would have thought all the population of Tartarus +were holding high revel. Mercifully, at last we sank into a fitful +slumber, though fully aware of the great danger of our position. One +upward rush of any of those ravening monsters, happening to strike the +frail shell of our boat, and a few fleeting seconds would have sufficed +for our obliteration as if we had never been. + +But the terrible night passed away, and once more we saw the tender, +iridescent light stream into that abode of dread. As the day +strengthened, we were able to see what was going on below, and a grim +vision it presented. The water was literally alive with sharks of +enormous size, tearing with never-ceasing energy at the huge carcass of +the whale lying on the bottom, who had met his fate in a singular but +not unheard-of way. At that last titanic effort of his he had rushed +downward with such terrific force that, striking his head on the bottom, +he had broken his neck. I felt very grieved that we had lost the chance +of securing him; but it was perfectly certain that before we could get +help to raise him, all that would be left on his skeleton would be quite +valueless to us. So with such patience as we could command, we waited +near the entrance until the receding ebb made it possible for us to +emerge once more into the blessed light of day. + +Frank T. Bullen: "The Cruise of the Cachalot." + + +[Illustration: IN GEORGIAN BAY] + + + + + From toil he wins his spirits light, + From busy day the peaceful night, + Rich, from the very want of wealth, + In heaven's best treasures, peace and health. + +Gray + + + + +THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS + + + King Francis was a hearty king, and loved + a royal sport, + And one day, as his lions strove, sat + looking on the court; + The nobles filled the benches round, the + ladies by their side, + And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one + he hoped to make his bride; + And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that + crowning show, + Valour and love, and a king above, and the + royal beasts below. + + Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid + laughing jaws; + They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, + a wind went with their paws. + With wallowing might and stifled roar, they + rolled one on another, + Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in + a thunderous smother; + The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing + through the air; + Said Francis, then, "Good gentlemen, we're + better here than there!" + + De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a + beauteous, lively dame, + With smiling lips, and sharp bright eyes, + which always seemed the same: + She thought, "The Count, my lover, is as + brave as brave can be; + He surely would do desperate things to show + his love of me! + King, ladies, lover, all look on; the chance + is wond'rous fine; + I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great + glory will be mine!" + + She dropped her glove to prove his love: then + looked on him and smiled; + He bowed and in a moment leaped among the + lions wild: + The leap was quick; return was quick; he soon + regained his place; + Then threw the glove, but not with love, right + in the lady's face! + "In truth!" cried Francis, "rightly done!" and + he rose from where he sat: + "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a + task like that!" + +Leigh Hunt + + + + +THREE SCENES IN THE TYROL + + +You are standing on a narrow, thread-like road, which has barely room to +draw itself along between the rocky bank of the River Inn, and the base +of a frowning buttress of the Solstein, which towers many hundred feet +perpendicularly above you. You throw your head far back and look up; and +there you have a vision of a plumed hunter, lofty and chivalrous in his +bearing, who is bounding heedlessly on after a chamois to the very verge +of a precipice. Mark!--he loses his footing--he rolls helplessly from +rock to rock! There is a pause in his headlong course. What is it that +arrests him? Ah! he puts forth his mighty strength, and clings, hand and +foot, with the grip of despair, to a narrow ledge of rock, and there he +hangs over the abyss! It is the Emperor Maximilian! The Abbot of Wiltau +comes forth from his cell, sees an imperial destiny suspended between +heaven and earth, and, crossing himself with awe, bids prayers be put up +for the welfare of a passing soul. + +Hark! there is a wild cry ringing through the upper air! Ha! Zyps of +Zirl, thou hunted and hunting outlaw, art thou out upon the heights at +this fearful moment? Watch the hardy mountaineer! He binds his +_crampons_ on his feet,--he is making his perilous way towards his +failing Emperor;--now bounding like a hunted chamois; now creeping like +an insect; now clinging like a root of ivy; now dropping like a +squirrel:--he reaches the fainting monarch just as he relaxes his grasp +on the jutting rock. Courage, Kaiser!--there is a hunter's hand for +thee, a hunter's iron-shod foot to guide thee to safety. Look! They +clamber up the face of the rock, on points and ledges where scarce the +small hoof of the chamois might find a hold; and the peasant-folk still +maintain that an angel came down to their master's rescue. We will, +however, refer the marvellous escape to the interposing hand of a +pitying Providence. + +Zyps, the outlaw, becomes Count Hallooer von Hohenfeldsen--"Lord of the +wild cry of the lofty rock;" and in the old pension-list of the proud +house of Hapsburg may still be seen an entry to this effect: that +sixteen florins were paid annually to one "Zyps of Zirl." As you look up +from the base of the Martinswand, you may, with pains, distinguish a +cross, which has been planted on the narrow ledge where the Emperor was +rescued by the outlaw. + +There is another vision, an imperial one also. The night is dark and +wild. Gusty winds come howling down from the mountain passes, driving +sheets of blinding rain before them, and whirling them round in hissing +eddies. At intervals the clouds are rent asunder, and the moon takes a +hurried look at the world below. What does _she_ see? and what do _we_ +hear? for there are other sounds stirring besides the ravings of the +tempest, in that wild cleft of the mountains, which guard Innsbruck, on +the Carinthian side. + +There is a hurried tramp of feet, a crowding and crushing up through the +steep and narrow gorge, a mutter of suppressed voices, a fitful glancing +of torches, which now flare up bravely enough, now wither in a moment +before the derisive laugh of the storm. At the head of the melee there +is a litter borne on the shoulders of a set of sure-footed hunters of +the hills; and around this litter is clustered a moving constellation of +lamps, which are anxiously shielded from the rude wrath of the tempest. +A group of stately figures, wrapped in rich military cloaks, with helms +glistening in the torch-light, and plumes streaming on the wind, +struggle onward beside the litter. + +And who is this reclining there, his teeth firmly set to imprison the +stifled groan of physical anguish? He is but fifty-three years of age, +but the lines of premature decay are ploughed deep along brow and cheek, +while his yellow locks are silvered and crisped with care. Who can +mistake that full, expansive forehead, that aquiline nose, that cold, +stern blue eye, and that heavy, obstinate, Austrian underlip, for other +than those of the mighty Emperor Charles V? And can this suffering +invalid, flying from foes who are almost on the heels of his attendants, +jolted over craggy passes in midnight darkness, buffeted by the tempest, +and withered by the sneer of adverse fortune--_can_ this be the Emperor +of Germany, King of Spain, Lord of the Netherlands, of Naples, of +Lombardy, and the proud chief of the golden Western World? Yes, Charles, +thou art reading a stern lesson by that fitful torch-light; but thy +strong will is yet unbent, and thy stern nature yet unsoftened. + +And who is the swift "avenger of blood" who is following close as a +sleuth-hound on thy track? It is Maurice of Saxony--a match for thee in +boldness of daring, and in strength of will. But Charles wins the +midnight race; and yet, instead of bowing before Him whose +"long-suffering would lead to repentance," he ascribes his escape to the +"star of Austria," ever in the ascendant, and mutters his favourite +saying, "Myself, and the lucky moment." + +One more scene: it is the year 1809. Bonaparte has decreed in the secret +council chamber, where his own will is his sole adviser, that the Tyrol +shall be cleared of its troublesome nest of warrior-hunters. Ten +thousand French and Bavarian soldiers have penetrated as far as the +Upper Innthal, and are boldly pushing on towards Prutz. + +But the mountain-walls of this profound valley are closing gloomily +together, as if they would forbid even the indignant river to force its +wild way betwixt them. _Is_ there a path through the frowning gorge +other than that rocky way which is fiercely held by the current? Yes, +there is a narrow road, painfully grooved by the hand of man out of the +mountain side, now running along like a gallery, now dropping down to +the brink of the stream. But the glittering array winds on. There is the +heavy tread of the foot-soldiers, the trampling of horse, the dull +rumble of the guns, the waving and flapping of the colours, and the +angry remonstrance of the Inn. But all else is still as a midnight +sleep, except, indeed, when the eagles of the crag, startled from their +eyries, raise their shrill cry as they spread their living wings above +the gilded eagles of France. + +Suddenly a voice is heard far up amid the mists of the heights--not the +eagle's cry _this_ time--not the freak of a wayward echo--but human +words, which say "_Shall we begin?_" Silence! It is a host that holds +its breath and listens. Was it a spirit of the upper air parleying with +its kind? If so, it has its answer countersigned across the dark gulf. +"_Noch nicht!_"--"_Not yet!_" The whole invading army pause: there is a +wavering and writhing in the glittering serpent-length of that mighty +force which is helplessly uncoiled along the base of the mountain. But +hark! the voice of the hills is heard again, and it says "_Now!_" + +_Now_, then, descends the wild avalanche of destruction, and all is +tumult, dismay, and death. The very crags of the mountain side, loosened +in preparation, come bounding, thundering down. Trunks and roots of pine +trees, gathering speed on their headlong way, are launched down upon the +powerless foe, mingled with the deadly hail of the Tyrolese rifles. And +this fearful storm descends along the whole line at once. No marvel that +two-thirds of all that brilliant invading army are crushed to death +along the grooved pathway, or are tumbled, horse and man, into the +choked and swollen river. + +Enough of horrors! Who would willingly linger on the hideous details of +such a scene? Sorrowful that man should come, with his evil ambitions +and his fierce revenges, to stain and to spoil such wonders of beauty as +the hand of the Creator has here moulded. Sorrowful that man, in league +with the serpent, should writhe into such scenes as these, and poison +them with the virus of sin. + +Richter + + + + + Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail + Against her beauty? May she mix + With men and prosper! Who shall fix + Her pillars? Let her work prevail. + ... Let her know her place; + She is the second, not the first, + A higher hand must make her mild, + If all be not in vain; and guide + Her footsteps, moving side by side + With wisdom, like the younger child. + +Tennyson + + + + +MARSTON MOOR + +(A Cavalier Song) + + + To horse! to horse! Sir Nicholas, the clarion's + note is high! + To horse! to horse! Sir Nicholas, the big drum + makes reply! + Ere this hath Lucas marched, with his gallant + cavaliers, + And the bray of Rupert's trumpets grows fainter + in our ears. + To horse! to horse! Sir Nicholas! White Guy is + at the door, + And the raven whets his beak o'er the field of + Marston Moor. + + Up rose the Lady Alice, from her brief and + broken prayer, + And she brought a silken banner down the narrow + turret-stair, + Oh! many were the tears that those radiant eyes + had shed, + As she traced the bright word "Glory" in the + gay and glancing thread; + And mournful was the smile which o'er those + lovely features ran + As she said, "It is your lady's gift, unfurl + it in the van!" + + "It shall flutter, noble wench, where the best + and boldest ride, + Midst the steel-clad files of Skippon, the + black dragoons of Pride; + The recreant heart of Fairfax shall feel a + sicklier qualm, + And the rebel lips of Oliver give out a + louder psalm, + When they see my lady's gewgaw flaunt proudly + on their wing, + And hear her loyal soldier's shout, 'For God + and for the King.'" + + 'Tis noon. The ranks are broken, along the + royal line + They fly, the braggarts of the court! the + bullies of the Rhine! + Stout Langdale's cheer is heard no more, and + Astley's helm is down, + And Rupert sheathes his rapier, with a curse + and with a frown, + And cold Newcastle mutters, as he follows in + their flight, + "The German boor had better far have supped in + York to-night." + + The knight is left alone, his steel-cap cleft + in twain, + His good buff jerkin crimsoned o'er with many + a gory stain; + Yet still he waves his banner, and cries amid + the rout, + "For Church and King, fair gentlemen! spur on, + and fight it out!" + And now he wards a Roundhead's pike, and now he + hums a stave, + And now he quotes a stage-play, and now he + fells a knave. + + God aid thee now, Sir Nicholas! thou hast no + thought of fear; + God aid thee now, Sir Nicholas! for fearful odds + are here! + The rebels hem thee in, and at every cut and + thrust, + "Down, down," they cry, "with Belial! down with + him to the dust." + "I would," quoth grim old Oliver, "that Belial's + trusty sword + This day were doing battle for the Saints and + for the Lord!" + + The Lady Alice sits with her maidens in her + bower, + The gray-haired warder watches from the castle's + topmost tower; + "What news? what news, old Hubert?"--"The battle's + lost and won; + The royal troops are melting, like mists before + the sun! + And a wounded man approaches;--I'm blind, and + cannot see, + Yet sure I am that sturdy step my master's step + must be!" + + "I've brought thee back thy banner, wench, from + as rude and red a fray, + As e'er was proof of soldier's thew or theme for + minstrel's lay! + Here, Hubert, bring the silver bowl, and liquor + quantum suff., + I'll make a shift to drain it yet, ere I part with + boots and buff;-- + Though Guy through many a gaping wound is breathing + forth his life, + And I come to thee a landless man, my fond and + faithful wife! + + "Sweet! we will fill our money-bags, and freight + a ship for France, + And mourn in merry Paris for this poor land's + mischance: + For if the worst befall me, why, better axe + and rope, + Than life with Lenthal for a king, and Peters + for a pope! + Alas! alas! my gallant Guy!--curse on the + crop-eared boor, + Who sent me with my standard, on foot from + Marston Moor!" + + +W. M. Praed + + + + +LONDON + + +The huge city perhaps never impressed the imagination more than when +approaching it by night on the top of a coach you saw its numberless +lights flaring, as Tennyson says "like a dreary dawn." The most +impressive approach is now by the river through the infinitude of docks, +quays, and shipping. London is not a city, but a province of brick and +stone. Hardly even from the top of St. Paul's or of the Monument can +anything like a view of the city as a whole be obtained. It is +indispensable, however, to make one or the other of those ascents when a +clear day can be found, not so much because the view is fine, as because +you will get a sensation of vastness and multitude not easily to be +forgotten. There is or was, not long ago, a point on the ridge that +connects Hampstead with Highgate from which, as you looked over London +to the Surrey Hills beyond, the modern Babylon presented something like +the aspect of a city. The ancient Babylon may have vied with London in +circumference, but the greater part of its area was occupied by open +spaces; the modern Babylon is a dense mass of humanity. London with its +suburbs has five millions of inhabitants, and still it grows. It grows +through the passion which seems to be seizing mankind everywhere, on +this continent as well as in Europe, for emigration from the country +into the town, not only as the centre of wealth and employment, but as +the centre of excitement, and, as the people fondly fancy, of enjoyment. +The Empire and the commercial relations of England draw representatives +of trading communities or subject races from all parts of the globe, and +the faces and costumes of the Hindoo, the Parsi, the Lascar, and the +ubiquitous Chinaman, mingle in the motley crowd with the merchants of +Europe and America. The streets of London are, in this respect, to the +modern, what the great Place of Tyre must have been to the ancient +world. But pile Carthage on Tyre, Venice on Carthage, Amsterdam on +Venice, and you will not make the equal, or anything near the equal, of +London. Here is the great mart of the world, to which the best and +richest products are brought from every land and clime, so that if you +have put money in your purse you may command every object of utility or +fancy which grows or is made anywhere, without going beyond the circuit +of the great cosmopolitan city. Parisian, German, Russian, Hindoo, +Japanese, Chinese industry is as much at your service here, if you have +the all-compelling talisman in your pocket, as in Paris, Berlin, St. +Petersburg, Benares, Yokohama or Pekin. That London is the great +distributing centre of the world is shown by the fleets of the carrying +trade of which the countless masts rise along her wharves and in her +docks. She is also the bank of the world. But we are reminded of the +vicissitudes of commerce and the precarious tenure by which its empire +is held when we consider that the bank of the world in the middle of the +last century was Amsterdam. + +The first and perhaps the greatest marvel of London is the commissariat. +How can the five millions be regularly supplied with food, and +everything needful to life, even with such things as milk and those +kinds of fruit which can hardly be left beyond a day? Here again we see +reason for concluding that though there may be fraud and scamping in the +industrial world, genuine production, faithful service, disciplined +energy, and skill in organization cannot wholly have departed from the +earth. London is not only well fed, but well supplied with water and +well drained. Vastly and densely peopled as it is, it is a healthy city. +Yet the limit of practicable extension seems to be nearly reached. It +becomes a question how the increasing multitude shall be supplied not +only with food and water but with air. + +There is something very impressive in the roar of the vast city. It is a +sound of a Niagara of human life. It ceases not except during the hour +or two before dawn, when the last carriages have rolled away from the +balls and the market carts have hardly begun to come in. Only in +returning from a very late ball is the visitor likely to have a chance +of seeing what Wordsworth saw from Westminster Bridge: + + "Earth has not anything to show more fair; + Dull would he be of soul who could pass by + A sight so touching in its majesty; + This City now doth, like a garment, wear + The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, + Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie + Open unto the fields, and to the sky; + All bright and glittering in the open air. + Never did sun more beautifully steep + In his first splendour, valley, rock or hill; + Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! + The river glideth at his own sweet will: + Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; + And all that mighty heart is lying still!" + +Goldwin Smith: "A Trip to England." + + + + +HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX + + + I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he; + I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three; + "Good speed!" cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew; + "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping through; + Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, + And into the midnight we galloped abreast. + + Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace + Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; + I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, + Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, + Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, + Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. + + 'Twas moonset at starting; but while we drew near + Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight dawned clear; + At Boom, a great yellow star came out to see; + At Dueffeld, 'twas morning as plain as could be; + And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime, + So, Joris broke silence with, "Yet there is time!" + + At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, + And against him the cattle stood black every one, + To stare thro' the mist at us galloping past, + And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, + With resolute shoulders, each butting away + The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray: + + And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back + For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track; + And one eye's black intelligence--ever that glance + O'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance! + And the thick heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon + His fierce lips shook upwards in galloping on. + + By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried Joris, "Stay spur! + Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's not in her, + We'll remember at Aix"--for one heard the quick wheeze + Of her chest, saw the stretched neck, and staggering knees, + And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, + As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. + + So we were left galloping, Joris and I, + Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky; + The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh, + 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; + Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, + And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight!" + + "How they'll greet us!"--and all in a moment his roan + Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; + And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight + Of the news, which alone could save Aix from her fate, + With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, + And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. + + Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, + Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, + Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, + Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse without peer; + Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, + Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood! + + And all I remember is,--friends flocking round, + As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground; + And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, + As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, + Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) + Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. + +Browning + + + + +AN INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP + + + You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: + A mile or so away, + On a little mound, Napoleon + Stood on our storming-day; + With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, + Legs wide, arms locked behind, + As if to balance the prone brow + Oppressive with its mind. + + Just as perhaps he mused "My plans + That soar, to earth may fall, + Let once my army-leader Lannes + Waver at yonder wall,"-- + Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew + A rider, bound on bound + Full-galloping; nor bridle drew + Until he reached the mound. + + Then off there flung in smiling joy, + And held himself erect + By just his horse's mane, a boy: + You scarcely could suspect-- + (So tight he kept his lips compressed, + Scarce any blood came through) + You looked twice ere you saw his breast + Was all but shot in two. + + "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace + We've got you Ratisbon! + The Marshal's in the market-place, + And you'll be there anon + To see your flag-bird flap his vans + Where I, to heart's desire, + Perched him!" The chief's eye flashed; his plans + Soared up again like fire. + + The chief's eye flashed; but presently + Softened itself, as sheathes + A film the mother-eagle's eye + When her bruised eaglet breathes; + "You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride + Touched to the quick, he said: + "I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside, + Smiling the boy fell dead. + +Browning + + + + + I made them lay their hands in mine and swear + To reverence the King, as if he were + Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, + To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, + To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it. + +Tennyson + + + + +BRITISH COLONIAL AND NAVAL POWER + + +The sagacity of England is in nothing more clearly shown than in the +foresight with which she has provided against the emergency of war. Let +it come when it may, it will not find her unprepared. So thickly are her +colonies and naval stations scattered over the face of the Earth, that +her war-ships can speedily reach every commercial centre on the globe. + +There is that great centre of commerce, the Mediterranean Sea. It was a +great centre long ago, when the Phoenician traversed it, and, passing +through the Pillars of Hercules, sped on his way to the distant, and +then savage, Britain. It was a great centre when Rome and Carthage +wrestled in a death-grapple for its possession. But at the present day +England is as much at home on the Mediterranean as if it were one of her +own Canadian lakes. + +Nor is it simply the number of the British colonies, or the evenness +with which they are distributed, that challenges our admiration. The +positions which these colonies occupy, and their natural military +strength, are quite as important facts. There is not a sea or a gulf in +the world, which has any real commercial importance, but England has a +stronghold on its shores. And wherever the continents tending southward +come to points, around which the commerce of nations must sweep, there +is a British settlement; and the cross of St. George salutes you as you +are wafted by. There is hardly a little desolate, rocky island or +peninsula, formed apparently by Nature for a fortress, and nothing else, +but the British flag floats securely over it. + +These are literal facts. Take, for example, the great Overland Route +from Europe to Asia. Despite its name, its real highway is on the waters +of the Mediterranean and Red Seas. It has three gates--three only. +England holds the key to every one of these gates. Count +them--Gibraltar, Malta, Aden. But she commands the entrance to the Red +Sea, not by one, but by several strongholds. Midway in the narrow strait +is the black, bare rock of Perim, sterile, precipitous, a perfect +counterpart of Gibraltar; and on either side, between it and the +mainland, are the ship-channels which connect the Red Sea with the great +Indian Ocean. This rock England holds. + +A little farther out is the peninsula of Aden, another Gibraltar, as +rocky, as sterile, and as precipitous, connected with the mainland by a +narrow strait, and having a harbour safe in all winds, and a central +coal depot. This England bought in 1839. And to complete her security, +she has purchased from some petty sultan the neighbouring islands of +Socotra and Kouri, giving, as it were, a retaining fee, so that, though +she does not need them herself, no rival power may ever possess them. + +As we sail a little farther on, we come to the China Sea. What a beaten +track of commerce is this! What wealth of comfort and luxury is wafted +over it by every breeze!--the teas of China; the silks of farther India; +the spices of the East. The ships of every clime and nation swarm on its +waters--the stately barques of England, France, and Holland; the swift +ships of America; and mingled with them, in picturesque confusion, the +clumsy junk of the Chinaman, and the slender, darting canoe of the +Malaysian islanders. + +At the lower end of the China Sea, where it narrows into Malacca Strait, +England holds the little island of Singapore--a spot of no use to her +whatever, except as a commercial depot, but of inestimable value for +that; a spot which, under her fostering care, is growing up to take its +place among the great emporiums of the world. Half-way up the sea she +holds the island of Labuan, whose chief worth is this, that beneath its +surface and that of the neighbouring mainland there lie inexhaustible +treasures of coal, which are likely to yield wealth and power to the +hand that controls them. At the upper end of the sea she holds +Hong-Kong, a hot, unhealthy island, but an invaluable base from which to +threaten and control the neighbouring waters. + +Even in the broad, and as yet comparatively untracked Pacific, she is +making silent advances towards dominion. The vast continent of +Australia, which she has secured, forms its south-western boundary. And +pushed out six hundred miles eastward from this lies New Zealand, like a +strong outpost, its shores so scooped and torn by the waves that it must +be a very paradise of commodious bays and safe havens for the mariner. +The soil, too, is of extraordinary fertility; and the climate, though +humid, deals kindly with the Englishman's constitution. Nor is this all; +for, advanced from it, north and south, like picket stations, are +Norfolk Island, and the Auckland group, both of which have good +harbours. And it requires no prophet's eye to see that, when England +needs posts farther eastward, she will find them among the green coral +islets that stud the Pacific. + +Turn now your steps homeward, and pause a moment at the Bermudas, those +beautiful isles, with their fresh verdure--green gems in the ocean, with +air soft and balmy as Eden's was! They have their home uses too. They +furnish arrow-root for the sick, and ample supplies of vegetables +earlier than sterner climates will yield them. Is this all that can be +said? Reflect a little more deeply. These islands possess a great +military and naval depot; and a splendid harbour, landlocked, strongly +fortified, and difficult of access to strangers;--and all within a few +days' sail of the chief ports of the Atlantic shores of the New World. +England therefore retains them as a station on the road to her West +Indian possessions; and should America go to war with her, she would use +it as a base for offensive operations, where she might gather and whence +she might hurl upon any unprotected port all her gigantic naval and +military power. + +"Atlantic Monthly." + + + + +ENGLAND, MY ENGLAND + + + What have I done for you, + England, my England? + What is there I would not do, + England, my own? + With your glorious eyes austere, + As the Lord were walking near, + Whispering terrible things and dear + As the Song on your bugles blown, England-- + Round the world on your bugles blown! + + Where shall the watchful sun, + England, my England, + Match the master-work you've done, + England, my own? + When shall he rejoice agen + Such a breed of mighty men + As come forward, one to ten, + To the Song on your bugles blown, England-- + Down the years on your bugles blown? + + Ever the faith endures, + England, my England:-- + "Take and break us: we are yours, + England, my own! + Life is good, and joy runs high + Between English earth and sky: + Death is death; but we shall die + To the Song on your bugles blown, England-- + To the stars on your bugles blown!" + + They call you proud and hard, + England, my England: + You with worlds to watch and ward, + England, my own! + You whose mailed hand keeps the keys + Of such teeming destinies, + You could know nor dread nor ease + Were the Song on your bugles blown, England-- + Round the Pit on your bugles blown! + + Mother of Ships whose might, + England, my England, + Is the fierce old Sea's delight, + England, my own, + Chosen daughter of the Lord, + Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword, + There's the menace of the Word + In the Song on your bugles blown, England-- + Out of heaven on your bugles blown! + +W. E. Henley + + + + +A GOOD TIME GOING + +(Charles Mackay, at the end of his American tour in 1859, was +entertained in Boston by the leading literary men. This poem, written +for the occasion, was read to speed the parting guest.) + + + Brave singer of the coming time, + Sweet minstrel of the joyous present, + Crowned with the noblest wreath of rhyme, + The holly-leaf of Ayrshire's peasant,[4] + Good-bye! Good-bye!--Our hearts and hands, + Our lips in honest Saxon phrases, + Cry, God be with him, till he stands + His feet among the English daisies! + + 'Tis here we part;--for other eyes + The busy deck, the fluttering streamer, + The dripping arms that plunge and rise, + The waves in foam, the ship in tremor, + The kerchiefs waving from the pier, + The cloudy pillar gliding o'er him, + The deep blue desert, lone and drear, + With heaven above and home before him! + + His home!--the Western giant smiles, + And twirls the spotty globe to find it;-- + This little speck the British Isles? + 'Tis but a freckle,--never mind it! + He laughs, and all his prairies roll, + Each gurgling cataract roars and chuckles, + And ridges stretched from pole to pole + Heave till they crack their iron knuckles! + + But Memory blushes at the sneer, + And Honour turns with frown defiant, + And Freedom, leaning on her spear, + Laughs louder than the laughing giant: + "An islet is a world," she said, + "When glory with its dust has blended, + And Britain keeps her noble dead + Till earth and seas and skies are rended!" + + Beneath each swinging forest-bough + Some arm as stout in death reposes,-- + From wave-washed foot to heaven-kissed brow + Her valour's life-blood runs in roses; + Nay, let our brothers of the West + Write smiling in their florid pages, + One-half her soil has walked the rest + In poets, heroes, martyrs, sages! + + Hugged in the clinging billow's clasp, + From sea-weed fringe to mountain heather, + The British oak with rooted grasp + Her slender handful holds together; With + cliffs of white and bowers of green, + And Ocean narrowing to caress her, + And hills and threaded streams between;-- + Our little mother isle, God bless her! + +Oliver Wendell Holmes + +FOOTNOTES: +[4] Robert Burns + + + + +GOD IS OUR REFUGE + + + God is our refuge and strength, + A very present help in trouble. + Therefore will we not fear, though the earth do change, + And though the mountains be moved in the heart of the seas; + Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, + Though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. + THE LORD OF HOSTS IS WITH US; + THE GOD OF JACOB IS OUR REFUGE. + + There is a river, the streams whereof make glad the city of God, + The holy place of the tabernacles of the Most High. + God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: + God shall help her at the dawn of morning. + The nations raged, the kingdoms were moved: + He uttered his voice, the earth melted. + THE LORD OF HOSTS IS WITH US; + THE GOD OF JACOB IS OUR REFUGE. + + Come, behold the works of the LORD, + What desolations he hath made in the earth. + He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; + He breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder; + He burneth the chariots in the fire. + Be still, and know that I am God: + I will be exalted among the nations, + I will be exalted in the earth. + THE LORD OF HOSTS IS WITH US; + THE GOD OF JACOB IS OUR REFUGE. + +Psalm XLVI. + + + + +A good man out of the good treasure of the heart bringeth forth good +things: and an evil man out of the evil treasure bringeth forth evil +things. But I say unto you that every idle word that men shall speak, +they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment. + +St. Matthew, XII. + + + + +INDIAN SUMMER + + + By the purple haze that lies + On the distant rocky height, + By the deep blue of the skies, + By the smoky amber light + Through the forest arches streaming, + Where Nature on her throne sits dreaming, + And the sun is scarcely gleaming + Through the cloudless snowy white,-- + Winter's lovely herald greets us, + Ere the ice-crowned giant meets us. + + A mellow softness fills the air,-- + No breeze on wanton wings steals by + To break the holy quiet there, + Or make the waters fret and sigh, + Or the yellow alders shiver, + That bend to kiss the placid river, + Flowing on and on forever; + But the little waves are sleeping, + O'er the pebbles slowly creeping, + That last night were flashing, leaping, + Driven by the restless breeze, + In lines of foam beneath yon trees. + + Dressed in robes of gorgeous hue, + Brown and gold with crimson blent. + The forest to the waters blue + Its own enchanting tints has lent;-- + In their dark depths, lifelike glowing, + We see a second forest growing, + Each pictured leaf and branch bestowing + A fairy grace to that twin wood, + Mirrored within the crystal flood. + + 'Tis pleasant now in forest shades; + The Indian hunter strings his bow, + To track through dark entangling glades + The antlered deer and bounding doe, + Or launch at night the birch canoe, + To spear the finny tribes that dwell + On sandy bank, in weedy cell, + Or pool, the fisher knows right well-- + Seen by the red and vivid glow + Of pine torch at his vessel's bow. + + This dreamy Indian summer-day, + Attunes the soul to tender sadness; + We love--but joy not in the ray-- + It is not summer's fervid gladness, + But a melancholy glory, + Hovering softly round decay, + Like swan that sings her own sad story, + Ere she floats in death away. + The day declines; what splendid dyes, + In fleckered waves of crimson driven, + Float o'er the saffron sea that lies + Glowing within the western heaven! + Oh, it is a peerless even! + + See, the broad red sun has set, + But his rays are quivering yet + Through Nature's vale of violet + Streaming bright o'er lake and hill, + But earth and forest lie so still, + It sendeth to the heart a chill; + We start to check the rising tear-- + 'Tis beauty sleeping on her bier. + +Susanna Moodie + + + + + So live, that when thy summons comes to join + The innumerable caravan which moves + To that mysterious realm, where each shall take + His chamber in the silent halls of death, + Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, + Scourged to his dungeon, but sustained and soothed + By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, + Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch + About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. + +Bryant + + + + +THE SKYLARK + + + Bird of the wilderness, + Blithesome and cumberless, + Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea! + Emblem of happiness, + Blest is thy dwelling-place-- + Oh, to abide in the desert with thee! + + Wild is thy lay and loud, + Far in the downy cloud; + Love gives it energy, love gave it birth. + Where, on thy dewy wing, + Where art thou journeying? + Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth. + + O'er fell and fountain sheen, + O'er moor and mountain green, + O'er the red streamer that heralds the day, + Over the cloudlet dim, + Over the rainbow's rim, + Musical cherub, soar, singing away! + + Then, when the gloaming comes, + Low in the heather blooms, + Sweet will thy welcome, and bed of love be! + Emblem of happiness, + Blest is thy dwelling-place-- + Oh, to abide in the desert with thee! + +James Hogg + + + + +WHAT IS WAR + + +What is war? I believe that half the people that talk about war have not +the slightest idea what it is. In a short sentence it may be summed up +to be the combination and concentration of all the horrors, atrocities, +crimes, and sufferings of which human nature on this globe is capable. + +If you go into war now, you will have more banners to decorate your +cathedrals and churches. Englishmen will fight now as well as they ever +did; and there is ample power to back them, if the country can be but +sufficiently excited and deluded. You may raise up great generals. You +may have another Wellington, and another Nelson, too; for this country +can grow men capable of every enterprise. Then there may be titles, and +pensions, and marble monuments to eternize the men who have thus become +great;--but what becomes of you, and your country, and your children? + +You profess to be a Christian nation. You make it your boast +even--though boasting is somewhat out of place in such questions--you +make it your boast that you are a Christian people, and that you draw +your rule of doctrine and practice, as from a well pure and undefiled, +from the lively oracles of God, and from the direct revelation of the +Omnipotent. You have even conceived the magnificent project of +illuminating the whole earth, even to its remotest and darkest recesses, +by the dissemination of the volume of the New Testament, in whose every +page are written for ever the words of peace. Within the limits of this +island alone, every Sabbath-day, twenty thousand, yes, far more than +twenty thousand temples are thrown open, in which devout men and women +assemble to worship Him who is the "Prince of Peace." + +Is this a reality? or is your Christianity a romance, and your +profession a dream? No; I am sure that your Christianity is not a +romance, and I am equally sure that your profession is not a dream. It +is because I believe this that I appeal to you with confidence, and that +I have hope and faith in the future. I believe that we shall see, and at +no very distant time, sound economic principles spreading much more +widely amongst the people; a sense of justice growing up in a soil which +hitherto has been deemed unfruitful; and--which will be better than +all--the churches of the United Kingdom, the churches of Britain, +awaking as it were from their slumbers, and girding up their loins to +more glorious work, when they shall not only accept and believe in the +prophecy, but labour earnestly for its fulfilment, that there shall come +a time--a blessed time--a time which shall last for ever--when "nation +shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any +more." + +John Bright + + + + +THE HOMES OF ENGLAND + + + The stately homes of England! + How beautiful they stand, + Amidst their tall ancestral trees, + O'er all the pleasant land! + The deer across their greensward bound, + Through shade and sunny gleam: + And the swan glides past them with the sound + Of some rejoicing stream. + + The merry homes of England! + Around their hearths by night, + What gladsome looks of household love + Meet in the ruddy light! + There woman's voice flows forth in song, + Or childhood's tale is told, + Or lips move tunefully along + Some glorious page of old. + + The blessed homes of England! + How softly on their bowers + Is laid the holy quietness + That breathes from Sabbath hours! + Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime + Floats through their woods at morn; + All other sounds, in that still time, + Of breeze and leaf are born. + + The cottage homes of England! + By thousands on her plains, + They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks, + And round the hamlet fanes. + Through glowing orchards forth they peep, + Each from its nook of leaves; + And fearless there the lowly sleep, + As the bird beneath the eaves. + + The free, fair homes of England! + Long, long, in hut and hall, + May hearts of native proof be reared + To guard each hallowed wall! + And green for ever be the groves, + And bright the flowery sod, + Where first the child's glad spirit loves + Its country and its God! + +Felicia Hemans + + + +TO A WATER-FOWL + + + Whither, midst falling dew, + While glow the heavens with the last steps of day + Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue + Thy solitary way? + + Vainly the fowler's eye + Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, + As, darkly seen against the crimson sky, + Thy figure floats along. + + Seek'st thou the plashy brink + Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, + Or where the rocking billows rise and sink + On the chafed ocean side? + + There is a Power whose care + Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,-- + The desert and illimitable air,-- + Lone wandering, but not lost. + + All day thy wings have fanned, + At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, + Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, + Though the dark night is near. + + And soon that toil shall end; + Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, + And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend, + Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. + + Thou'rt gone; the abyss of heaven + Hath swallowed up thy form; yet, on my heart + Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, + And shall not soon depart. + + He who, from zone to zone, + Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, + In the long way that I must tread alone, + Will lead my steps aright. + +Bryant + + + + +THE FASCINATION OF LIGHT + + +The strange fascination of light takes hold of all animated creatures, +and commands a subtle devotion that cannot be set forth in a confession +of faith. The delight of a boy in a bonfire is a breath of the heaven +that is about us in our infancy. Though it be but a heap of rubbish, +revealed by the removal of the mantle of snow, lighting up with +flickering, changing glow a rectangular door yard, the children stand +and gaze into the dancing flame, their vast, distorted, ghostlike +shadows lost in the night, their faces reflecting every evanescent +glare, and their spirits charmed by the same spell that took form in the +fire-worship of their ancestors. How they delight in stirring up the +embers and sending up a fountain spray of sparks! What joy in seeing the +big sticks break into glowing coals, darting out new tongues of flame to +lick up the escaping embers! + +Fire is one of nature's universal fascinations. The wildest and most +wary animals approach and gaze at it in the night, and though it +sometimes warns them off, it always holds them by a spell. The night +migrating birds perish in scores against the plate-glass of coast +lighthouses, swerving from the control of the all-powerful migratory +instinct toward the fascinating glare that is their destruction. It is +not sportsmanlike to hang a lantern in the marsh and shoot the duck that +gather under it. But the night, the silent marsh, and the lantern have +charms that the sportsman, with his legal and mechanical paraphernalia, +can never understand. Fish are devoted fire-worshippers, and that boy +who has never speared by a jack-light is an object of compassion. + +The earth and the waters under the earth have no more fascinating sight +than the gray, silent form of a pike, moving and motionless in the +shallow water, a shadow more tangible than himself thrown by a +jack-light on the mottled yellow rocks and sands of the bottom. A +passing breath of wind, even the slightest motion of the punt, breaks +every shadow and indentation into myriad fleeting ripples and waves of +light, transforming the slender, silent fish into a sheaf of wriggling +glimmers. With the stilling of the surface, the waiting pike and all the +shadows and lights of the bottom grow once more still and distinct. +There floats the greatest cannibal of the fishes, paying his devotion +to the flame, and above him stands the greatest cannibal of all created +beings, pointing his deadly spear. + +There is no moon. The stars cannot penetrate the thickening clouds. The +bay is still and its shores invisible, the distant light of a farmhouse +only serving to intensify the lonely silence. The savage joy of that +moment repays the boy for all his laborious preparations. He brought two +boards down the river from the mill, and toiled at them with all the +tools in the woodshed till the ends and edges were made smooth. He +collected lumber from all available sources for the ends and bottom, +fastening them on with a miscellaneous collection of nails and springs. +Then he patiently picked an old piece of tarred rope into oakum, and +caulked it into the seams with a sharpened gate-hinge. He notched a pine +tree, gathered the gum and boiled it into pitch to make the joints +tight. That extraordinary pair of oars he sawed, chopped, and whittled +from an old plank. The spear is a family relic which he dug up and +fitted with a white-ash pole, and the anchor is a long stone, tied by +the slack of a clothes-line. The jack is a basket made of old +pail-hoops, and fastened to an upright stick to hold the burning pine +knot. Yet we wonder why it is always the country boy who succeeds in the +city! + +Will he too, be lured by the seductive glimmer? Will he turn away from +the conquest of nature and embark in the conquest of his fellow-mortals? +Will he go to a resort for his fishing and a preserve for his shooting? +Will that bunch of hair protruding from under his hat be worn thin and +gray in scrambling after the delights of the vain and the covetous? Will +he devote his superb strength of body and mind to outstripping and +circumventing his fellows in the pursuit of that transient glimmer, that +all-alluring _ignis fatuus_ which the Babylon world calls success? + +S. T. Wood + + + + +DAFFODILS + + + I wandered lonely as a cloud + That floats on high o'er vales and hills, + When all at once I saw a crowd, + A host of golden daffodils; + Beside the lake, beneath the trees, + Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. + + Continuous as the stars that shine + And twinkle on the milky way, + They stretched in never-ending line + Along the margin of the bay; + Ten thousand saw I at a glance, + Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. + + The waves beside them danced; but they + Outdid the sparkling waves in glee; + A poet could not but be gay, + In such a jocund company; + I gazed--and gazed--but little thought + What wealth the show to me had brought: + + For oft, when on my couch I lie + In vacant or in pensive mood, + They flash upon that inward eye + Which is the bliss of solitude; + And then my heart with pleasure fills, + And dances with the daffodils. + +Wordsworth + + + + +If thine enemy be hungry, give him bread to eat; and if he be thirsty +give him water to drink; for thou shalt heap coals of fire upon his +head, and the Lord shall reward thee. + +Proverbs, XXV. + + + + +TO THE DANDELION + + + Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, + Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, + First pledge of blithesome May, + Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold, + High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they + An Eldorado in the grass have found, + Which not the rich earth's ample round + May match in wealth--thou art more dear to me + Than all the prouder summer-blooms that be. + +Lowell + + + + +TRUE GREATNESS + + +On the evening of the twenty-second of May, 1509, two figures were +seated at the wide doorway of a handsome house in Florence. Lillo, a boy +of fifteen, sat on the ground, with his back against the angle of the +door-post, and his long legs stretched out, while he held a large book +open on his knee, and occasionally made a dash with his hand at an +inquisitive fly, with an air of interest stronger than that excited by +the finely-printed copy of Petrarch which he kept open at one place, as +if he were learning something by heart. + +Romola sat nearly opposite Lillo, but she was not observing him. Her +hands were crossed on her lap, and her eyes were fixed absently on the +distant mountains: she was evidently unconscious of anything around her. +An eager life had left its marks upon her: the finely-moulded cheek had +sunk a little, the golden crown was less massive; but there was a +placidity on Romola's face which had never belonged to it in youth. It +is but once that we can know our worst sorrows, and Romola had known +them while life was new. + +Absorbed in this way, she was not at first aware that Lillo had ceased +to look at his book, and was watching her with a slightly impatient air, +which meant that he wanted to talk to her, but was not quite sure +whether she would like that entertainment just now. But persevering +looks make themselves felt at last. Romola did presently turn away her +eyes from the distance and met Lillo's impatient dark gaze with a +brighter and brighter smile. He shuffled along the floor, still keeping +the book on his lap, till he got close to her and lodged his chin on +her knee. + +"What is it, Lillo?" said Romola, pulling his hair back from his brow. +Lillo was a handsome lad, but his features were turning out to be more +massive and less regular than his father's. The blood of the Tuscan +peasant was in his veins. + +"Mamma Romola, what am I to be?" he said, well contented that there was +a prospect of talking till it would be too late to con Petrarch any +longer. + +"What should you like to be, Lillo? You might be a scholar. My father +was a scholar, you know, and taught me a great deal. That is the reason +why I can teach you." + +"Yes," said Lillo, rather hesitatingly. "But he is old and blind in the +picture. Did he get a great deal of glory?" + +"Not much, Lillo. The world was not always very kind to him, and he saw +meaner men than himself put into higher places because they could +flatter and say what was false. And then his dear son thought it right +to leave him and become a monk; and after that, my father, being blind +and lonely, felt unable to do the things that would have made his +learning of greater use to men, so that he might still have lived in +his works after he was in his grave." + +"I should not like that sort of life," said Lillo, "I should like to be +something that would make me a great man, and very happy +besides--something that would not hinder me from having a good deal of +pleasure." + +"That is not easy, my Lillo. It is only a poor sort of happiness that +could ever come by caring very much about our own narrow pleasures. We +can have the highest happiness, such as goes along with being a great +man, only by having wide thoughts, and much feeling for the rest of the +world as well as ourselves; and this sort of happiness often brings so +much pain with it, that we can tell it from pain only by its being what +we would choose before everything, because our souls see it is good. +There are so many things wrong and difficult in the world, that no man +can be great--he can hardly keep himself from wickedness--unless he +gives up thinking much about pleasure or rewards, and gets strength to +endure what is hard and painful. My father had the greatness that +belongs to integrity; he chose poverty and obscurity rather than +falsehood. And so, my Lillo, if you mean to act nobly and seek to know +the best things God has put within reach of men, you must learn to fix +your mind on that end, and not on what will happen to you because of it. +And remember, if you were to choose something lower, and make it the +rule of your life to seek your own pleasure and escape from what is +disagreeable, calamity might come just the same; and it would be +calamity falling on a base mind, which is the one form of sorrow that +has no balm in it, and that may well make a man say, 'It would have been +better for me if I had never been born.' I will tell you something, +Lillo." + +Romola paused for a moment. She had taken Lillo's cheeks between her +hands, and his young eyes were meeting hers. + +"There was a man to whom I was very near, so that I could see a great +deal of his life, who made almost everyone fond of him, for he was +young, and clever, and beautiful, and his manners to all were gentle and +kind. I believe, when I first knew him, he never thought of doing +anything cruel or base. But because he tried to slip away from +everything that was unpleasant, and cared for nothing else so much as +his own safety, he came at last to commit some of the basest deeds--such +as make men infamous. He denied his father, and left him to misery; he +betrayed every trust that was reposed in him, that he might keep himself +safe and get rich and prosperous. Yet calamity overtook him." + +George Eliot: "Romola." + + + + +THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS + + + Last night among his fellows rough + He jested, quaffed, and swore: + A drunken private of the Buffs, + Who never looked before. + To-day, beneath the foeman's frown, + He stands in Elgin's place, + Ambassador from Britain's crown, + And type of all her race. + + Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught, + Bewildered and alone, + A heart, with English instinct fraught, + He yet can call his own. + Ay! tear his body limb from limb; + Bring cord, or axe, or flame!-- + He only knows that not through him + Shall England come to shame. + + Far Kentish hopfields round him seemed + Like dreams to come and go; + Bright leagues of cherry-blossom gleamed + One sheet of living snow: + The smoke above his father's door + In gray, soft eddyings hung:-- + Must he then watch it rise no more, + Doomed by himself, so young? + + Yes, Honour calls!--with strength like steel + He put the vision by: + Let dusky Indians whine and kneel; + An English lad must die! + And thus, with eyes that would not shrink, + With knee to man unbent, + Unfaltering on its dreadful brink + To his red grave he went. + + Vain, mightiest fleets of iron framed; + Vain, those all-shattering guns; + Unless proud England keep, untamed, + The strong heart of her sons! + So, let his name through Europe ring-- + A man of mean estate + Who died, as firm as Sparta's king, + Because his soul was great. + +F. H. Doyle + + + + +HONOURABLE TOIL + + +Two men I honour, and no third. First, the toilworn Craftsman, that, +with earth-made Implement, laboriously conquers the Earth, and makes her +man's. Venerable to me is the hard Hand; crooked, coarse; wherein, +notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the +Sceptre of this Planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all +weather-tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face +of a Man living manlike. O, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and +even because we must pity as well as love thee! Hardly-entreated +Brother! For us was thy back so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and +fingers so deformed: thou wert our Conscript, on whom the lot fell, and +fighting our battles wert so marred. For in thee, too, lay a god-created +Form, but it was not to be unfolded; encrusted must it stand with the +thick adhesions and defacements of Labour: and thy body, like thy soul, +was not to know freedom. Yet toil on, toil on: _thou_ art in thy duty, +be out of it who may; thou toilest for the altogether indispensable, for +daily bread. + +A second man I honour, and still more highly: him who is seen toiling +for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of +Life. Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavouring towards inward Harmony; +revealing this, by act or by word, through all his outward endeavours, +be they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward +endeavour are one; when we can name him Artist; not earthly Craftsman +only, but inspired Thinker, who with heaven-made Implement conquers +Heaven for us! If the poor and humble toil that we have Food, must not +the high and glorious toil for him in return, that he have Light, have +Guidance, Freedom, Immortality?--These two, in all their degrees, I +honour: all else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it +listeth. + +Unspeakably touching is it, however, when I find both dignities united; +and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also +toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing +than a Peasant Saint, could such now anywhere be met with. Such a one +will take thee back to Nazareth itself; thou wilt see the splendour of +Heaven spring forth from the humblest depths of Earth, like a light +shining in great darkness. + +Carlyle: "Sartor Resartus." + + + + +ON HIS BLINDNESS + + + When I consider how my light is spent + Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, + And that one talent which is death to hide + Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent + To serve therewith my Maker, and present + My true account, lest He returning chide; + "Doth God exact day labour, light denied?" + I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent + That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need + Either man's work, or His own gifts. Who best + Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state + Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed, + And post o'er land and ocean without rest: + They also serve who only stand and wait." + +Milton + + + + + So shall inferior eyes, + That borrow their behaviour from the great, + Grow great by your example and put on + The dauntless spirit of resolution. + +Shakespeare + + + + +MYSTERIOUS NIGHT + + + Mysterious Night! When our first parent knew + Thee from report divine, and heard thy name, + Did he not tremble for this lovely frame, + This glorious canopy of light and blue? + Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew, + Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, + Hesperus with the host of heaven came, + And lo! Creation widened in man's view. + Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed + Within thy beams, O Sun! or who could find, + Whilst flow'r and leaf and insect stood revealed, + That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind! + Why do we, then, shun Death with anxious strife? + If Light can thus deceive, wherefore not Life? + +Joseph Blanco White + + + + + The Future hides in it + Gladness and sorrow: + We press still thorow; + Nought that abides in it + Daunting us--Onward! + +Goethe + + + + +VITAI LAMPADA + +(The Torch of Life) + + + There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night-- + Ten to make and the match to win-- + A bumping pitch and a blinding light, + An hour to play and the last man in. + And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat, + Or the selfish hope of a season's fame, + But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote + "Play up! play up! and play the game!" + + The sand of the desert is sodden red,-- + Red with the wreck of a square that broke;-- + The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead, + And the regiment blind with dust and smoke. + The river of death has brimmed his banks, + And England's far, and Honour a name, + But the voice of a school-boy rallies the ranks: + "Play up! play up! and play the game!" + + This is the word that year by year, + While in her place the school is set, + Every one of her sons must hear, + And none that hears it dare forget. + This they all with a joyful mind + Bear through life like a torch in flame, + And falling, fling to the host behind-- + "Play up! play up! and play the game!" + +Henry Newbolt + + + + +THE IRREPARABLE PAST + +("And he cometh the third time, and saith unto them, Sleep on now, and +take your rest; it is enough, the hour is come; behold the Son of man is +betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise up, let us go; lo, he that +betrayeth me is at hand." Mark, XIV. 41, 42) + + +The words of Christ are not like the words of other men. His sentences +do not end with the occasion which called them forth: every sentence of +Christ's is a deep principle of human life, and it is so with these +sentences. The principle contained in "Sleep on now" is this, that the +past is irreparable, and after a certain moment waking will do no good. +You may improve the future, the past is gone beyond recovery. As to all +that is gone by, so far as the hope of altering it goes, you may sleep +on and take your rest: there is no power in earth or heaven that can +undo what has once been done. + +Let us proceed to give an illustration of this. This principle applies +to a misspent youth. The young are by God's Providence, exempted in a +great measure from anxiety; they are as the apostles were in relation to +their Master: their friends stand between them and the struggles of +existence. They are not called upon to think for themselves: the burden +is borne by others. They get their bread without knowing or caring how +it is paid for: they smile and laugh without a suspicion of the anxious +thoughts of day and night which a parent bears to enable them to smile. +So to speak, they are sleeping--and it is not a guilty sleep--while +another watches. + +My young brethren--youth is one of the precious opportunities of +life--rich in blessing if you choose to make it so; but having in it the +materials of undying remorse if you suffer it to pass unimproved. Your +quiet Gethsemane is now. Do you know how you can imitate the apostles in +their fatal sleep? You can suffer your young days to pass idly and +uselessly away; you can live as if you had nothing to do but to enjoy +yourselves: you can let others think for you, and not try to become +thoughtful yourselves: till the business and difficulties of life come +upon you unprepared, and you find yourselves like men waking from sleep, +hurried, confused, scarcely able to stand, with all the faculties +bewildered, not knowing right from wrong, led headlong to evil, just +because you have not given yourselves in time to learn what is good. All +that is sleep. + +And now let us mark it. You cannot repair that in after-life. Oh! +remember every period of human life has its own lesson, and you cannot +learn that lesson in the next period. The boy has one set of lessons to +learn, and the young man another, and the grown-up man another. Let us +consider one single instance. The boy has to learn docility, gentleness +of temper, reverence, submission. All those feelings which are to be +transferred afterwards in full cultivation to God, like plants nursed in +a hotbed and then planted out, are to be cultivated first in youth. +Afterwards, those habits which have been merely habits of obedience to +an earthly parent, are to become religious submission to a heavenly +parent. Our parents stand to us in the place of God. Veneration for our +parents is intended to become afterwards adoration for something higher. +Take that single instance; and now suppose that _that_ is not learned in +boyhood. Suppose that the boy sleeps to the duty of veneration, and +learns only flippancy, insubordination, and the habit of deceiving his +father,--can that, my young brethren, be repaired afterwards? Humanly +speaking not. Life is like the transition from class to class in a +school. The school-boy who has not learned arithmetic in the earlier +classes, cannot secure it when he comes to mechanics in the higher: each +section has its own sufficient work. He may be a good philosopher or a +good historian, but a bad arithmetician he remains for life; for he +cannot lay the foundation at the moment when he must be building the +superstructure. The regiment which has not perfected itself in its +manoeuvres on the parade ground, cannot learn them before the guns of +the enemy. And just in the same way, the young person who has slept his +youth away, and become idle, and selfish, and hard, cannot make up for +that afterwards. He may do something, he may be religious--yes; but he +cannot be what he might have been. There is a part of his heart which +will remain uncultivated to the end. The apostles could share their +Master's sufferings--they could not save him. Youth has its irreparable +past. + +And therefore, my young brethren, let it be impressed upon +you,--now is a time, infinite in its value for eternity, which +will never return again. Sleep not; learn that there is a very solemn +work of heart which must be done while the stillness of the garden of +Gethsemane gives you time. Now, or Never. The treasures at your command +are infinite. Treasures of time--treasures of youth--treasures of +opportunity that grown-up men would sacrifice everything they have to +possess. Oh for ten years of youth back again with the added experience +of age! But it cannot be: they must be content to sleep on now and take +their rest. + +Rev. F. W. Robertson: "Sermons." + + + + +A CHRISTMAS HYMN, 1837 + + + It was the calm and silent night:-- + Seven hundred years and fifty-three + Had Rome been growing up to might, + And now was Queen of land and sea! + No sound was heard of clashing wars; + Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain; + Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars + Held undisturbed their ancient reign, + In the solemn midnight + Centuries ago! + + 'Twas in the calm and silent night! + The senator of haughty Rome + Impatient urged his chariot's flight, + From lordly revel rolling home! + Triumphal arches gleaming swell + His breast with thoughts of boundless sway; + What recked the Roman what befell + A paltry province far away, + In the solemn midnight + Centuries ago! + + Within that province far away + Went plodding home a weary boor: + A streak of light before him lay, + Fallen through a half-shut stable door + Across his path. He passed--for nought + Told what was going on within; + How keen the stars! his only thought; + The air, how calm and cold and thin, + In the solemn midnight + Centuries ago! + + O strange indifference!--low and high + Drowsed over common joys and cares: + The earth was still--but knew not why; + The world was listening--unawares; + How calm a moment may precede + One that shall thrill the world for ever! + To that still moment none would heed, + Man's doom was linked no more to sever + In the solemn midnight + Centuries ago! + + It is the calm and solemn night! + A thousand bells ring out, and throw + Their joyous peals abroad, and smite + The darkness, charmed and holy _now_! + The night that erst no name had worn, + To it a happy name is given; + For in that stable lay new-born + The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven, + In the solemn midnight + Centuries ago. + +A. Domett + + + + +THE QUARREL + + _Enter_ Brutus _and_ Cassius +Cas. That you have wrong'd me doth appear in this: + You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella + For taking bribes here of the Sardians; + Wherein my letters, praying on his side, + Because I knew the man, were slighted off. + +Bru. You wrong'd yourself to write in such a case. + +Cas. In such a time as this it is not meet + That every nice offence should bear his comment. + +Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself + Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm; + To sell and mart your offices for gold + To undeservers. + +Cas. I an itching palm! + You know that you are Brutus that speak this, + Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. + +Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption, + And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. + +Cas. Chastisement! + +Bru. Remember March, the ides of March remember: + Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? + What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, + And not for justice? What, shall one of us, + That struck the foremost man of all this world + But for supporting robbers, shall we now + Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, + And sell the mighty space of our large honours + For so much trash as may be grasped thus? + I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, + Than such a Roman. + +Cas. Brutus, bay not me; + I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, + To hedge me in; I am a soldier, I, + Older in practice, abler than yourself + To make conditions. + +Bru. Go to; you are not, Cassius. + +Cas. I am. + +Bru. I say you are not. + +Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; + Have mind upon your health, tempt me no farther. + +Bru. Away, slight man! + +Cas. Is't possible? + +Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. + Must I give way and room to your rash choler? + Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? + +Cas. O ye gods, ye gods! must I endure all this? + +Bru. All this! ay, more: fret till your proud heart break; + Go show your slaves how choleric you are, + And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? + Must I observe you? must I stand and crouch + Under your testy humour? By the gods, + You shall digest the venom of your spleen, + Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, + I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, + When you are waspish. + +Cas. Is it come to this? + +Bru. You say you are a better soldier: + Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, + And it shall please me well: for mine own part, + I shall be glad to learn of noble men. + +Cas. You wrong me every way; you wrong me, Brutus; + I said, an elder soldier, not a better: + Did I say "better"? + +Bru. If you did, I care not. + +Cas. When Caesar lived, he durst not thus have moved me. + +Bru. Peace, peace! you durst not so have tempted him. + +Cas. I durst not! + +Bru. No. + +Cas. What, durst not tempt him! + +Bru. For your life you durst not. + +Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love; + I may do that I shall be sorry for. + +Bru. You have done that you should be sorry for. + There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, + For I am arm'd so strong in honesty + That they pass by me as the idle wind, + Which I respect not. I did send to you + For certain sums of gold, which you denied me: + For I can raise no money by vile means: + By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, + And drop my blood for drachmas, than to wring + From the hard hands of peasants their vile trash + By any indirection: I did send + To you for gold to pay my legions, + Which you denied me: was that done like Cassius? + Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so? + When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous, + To lock such rascal counters from his friends, + Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts; + Dash him to pieces! + +Cas. I denied you not. + +Bru. You did. + +Cas. I did not: he was but a fool that brought + My answer back. Brutus hath rived my heart: + A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, + But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. + +Bru. I do not, till you practise them on me. + +Cas. You love me not. + +Bru. I do not like your faults. + +Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. + +Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear + As huge as high Olympus. + +Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come, + Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, + For Cassius is aweary of the world; + Hated by one he loves; braved by his brother; + Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd, + Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote, + To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep + My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger, + And here my naked breast; within, a heart + Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold; + If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth; + I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart; + Strike, as thou didst at Caesar; for, I know, + When thou didst hate him worst, thou lovedst him better + Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. + +Bru. Sheath your dagger: + Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; + Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. + O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb + That carries anger as the flint bears fire; + Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, + And straight is cold again. + +Cas. Hath Cassius lived + To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, +When grief, and blood ill-temper'd, vexeth him? + +Bru. When I spoke that I was ill-temper'd too. + +Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand. + +Bru. And my heart too. + +Cas. O Brutus! + +Bru. What's the matter? + +Cas. Have not you love enough to bear with me, + When that rash humour which my mother gave me, + Makes me forgetful? + +Bru. Yes, Cassius; and, from henceforth, + When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, + He'll think your mother chides, and leave you so. + +Shakespeare: "Julius Caesar," IV. 3 + + + + +RECESSIONAL + +(1897) + + + God of our fathers, known of old, + Lord of our far-flung battle-line, + Beneath whose awful Hand we hold + Dominion over palm and pine-- + Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, + Lest we forget--lest we forget! + + The tumult and the shouting dies; + The captains and the kings depart: + Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, + An humble and a contrite heart. + Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, + Lest we forget--lest we forget! + + Far-called our navies melt away; + On dune and headland sinks the fire: + Lo, all our pomp of yesterday + Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! + Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, + Lest we forget--lest we forget! + + If, drunk with sight of power, we loose + Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe, + Such boasting as the Gentiles use, + Or lesser breeds without the Law-- + Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, + Lest we forget--lest we forget! + + For heathen heart that puts her trust + In reeking tube and iron shard, + All valiant dust that builds on dust, + And guarding, calls not Thee to guard, + For frantic boast and foolish word-- + Thy mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen. + +Kipling + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ONTARIO READERS: FOURTH BOOK*** + + +******* This file should be named 18702.txt or 18702.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/7/0/18702 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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