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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30559-8.txt b/30559-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..25c6c08 --- /dev/null +++ b/30559-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7724 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Eighth Reader, by James Baldwin and Ida C. Bender + +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: Eighth Reader + +Author: James Baldwin + Ida C. Bender + +Release Date: November 28, 2009 [EBook #30559] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIGHTH READER *** + + + + +Produced by Carla Foust and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + +Transcriber's note + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetter errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the authors' words and +intent. + +Characters that could not be displayed directly in Latin-1 are +transcribed as follows: + + [)a], [)e], [)i], [)o], [)y] - breve above letter + [=a], [=e], [=i], [=o], [=y] - macron above letter + [:a], [:i], [:o], [:u] - umlaut above letter + [+s] - tack up below letter + + + + +[Illustration: David Copperfield at Salem House + +(See page 23).] + + + + + READING WITH EXPRESSION + + EIGHTH READER + + BY + + JAMES BALDWIN + + AUTHOR OF "SCHOOL READING BY GRADES--BALDWIN'S READERS," + "HARPER'S READERS," ETC. + + AND + + IDA C. BENDER + + SUPERVISOR OF PRIMARY GRADES, BUFFALO, NEW YORK + + _EIGHT-BOOK SERIES_ + + NEW YORK ·:· CINCINNATI ·:· CHICAGO + AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY + + AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. + + ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL, LONDON. + + B. & B. EIGHTH READER. + + W. P. 2 + + + + +TO THE TEACHER + + +The paramount design of this series of School Readers is to help young +people to acquire the art and the habit of reading well--that is, of +interpreting the printed page in such manner as to give pleasure and +instruction to themselves and to those who listen to them. In his eighth +year at school the pupil is supposed to be able to read, with ease and +with some degree of fluency, anything in the English language that may +come to his hand; but, that he may read always with the understanding +and in a manner pleasing to his hearers and satisfactory to himself, he +must still have daily systematic practice in the rendering of selections +not too difficult for comprehension and yet embracing various styles of +literary workmanship and illustrating the different forms of English +composition. The contents of this volume have been chosen and arranged +to supply--or, where not supplying, to suggest--the materials for this +kind of practice. + +Particular attention is called both to the high quality and to the wide +variety of the selections herein presented. They include specimens of +many styles of literary workmanship--the products of the best thought of +modern times. It is believed that their study will not only prove +interesting to pupils, but will inspire them with a desire to read still +more upon the same subjects or from the works of the same authors; for +it is only by loving books and learning to know them that any one can +become a really good reader. + +The pupils should be encouraged to seek for and point out the particular +passages in each selection that are distinguished for their beauty, +their truth, or their peculiar adaptability to the purpose in view. The +habit should be cultivated of looking for and enjoying the admirable +qualities of any worthy literary production; and special attention +should be given to the style of writing which characterizes and gives +value to the works of various authors. These points should be the +subjects of daily discussions between teacher and pupils. + +The notes under the head of "Expression," which follow many of the +lessons, are intended, not only to aid in securing correctness of +expression, but also to afford suggestions for the appreciative reading +of the selections and an intelligent comparison of their literary +peculiarities. In the study of new, difficult, or unusual words, the +pupils should invariably refer to the dictionary. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + Brother and Sister _George Eliot_ 11 + + My Last Day at Salem House _Charles Dickens_ 22 + + The Departure from Miss Pinkerton's _W. M. Thackeray_ 27 + + Two Gems from Browning: + I. Incident of the French Camp _Robert Browning_ 36 + II. Dog Tray _Robert Browning_ 41 + + The Discovery of America _Washington Irving_ 43 + + The Glove and the Lions _Leigh Hunt_ 48 + + St. Francis, the Gentle _William Canton_ 51 + + The Sermon of St. Francis _Henry W. Longfellow_ 54 + + In the Woods _John Burroughs_ 56 + + Bees and Flowers _Arabella B. Buckley_ 59 + + Song of the River _Abram J. Ryan_ 64 + + Song of the Chattahoochee _Sidney Lanier_ 66 + + War and Peace: + I. War as the Mother of Valor and Civilization + _Andrew Carnegie_ 68 + II. Friendship among Nations _Victor Hugo_ 71 + III. Soldier, Rest _Sir Walter Scott_ 74 + IV. The Soldier's Dream _Thomas Campbell_ 75 + V. How Sleep the Brave? _William Collins_ 76 + + Early Times in New York _Washington Irving_ 77 + + A Winter Evening in Old New England _J. G. Whittier_ 82 + + The Old-fashioned Thanksgiving _Donald G. Mitchell_ 84 + + A Thanksgiving _Robert Herrick_ 92 + + First Days at Wakefield _Oliver Goldsmith_ 94 + + Doubting Castle _John Bunyan_ 100 + + Shooting with the Longbow _Sir Walter Scott_ 108 + + A Christmas Hymn _Alfred Domett_ 117 + + Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's _Charles Dickens_ 120 + + The Christmas Holly _Eliza Cook_ 124 + + The New Year's Dinner Party _Charles Lamb_ 125 + + The Town Pump _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 128 + + Come up from the Fields, Father _Walt Whitman_ 135 + + The Address at Gettysburg _Abraham Lincoln_ 139 + + Ode to the Confederate Dead _Henry Timrod_ 140 + + The Chariot Race _From Sophocles_ 141 + + The Coliseum at Midnight _Henry W. Longfellow_ 145 + + The Deacon's Masterpiece _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ 147 + + Dogs and Cats _Alexandre Dumas_ 154 + + The Owl Critic _James T. Fields_ 157 + + Mrs. Caudle's Umbrella Lecture _Douglas William Jerrold_ 161 + + The Dark Day in Connecticut _J. G. Whittier_ 164 + + Two Interesting Letters: + I. Columbus to the Lord Treasurer of Spain 167 + II. Governor Winslow to a Friend in England 171 + + Poems of Home and Country: + I. "This is My Own, My Native Land" _Sir Walter Scott_ 174 + II. The Green Little Shamrock of Ireland _Andrew Cherry_ 175 + III. My Heart's in the Highlands _Robert Burns_ 176 + IV. The Fatherland _James R. Lowell_ 177 + V. Home _Oliver Goldsmith_ 178 + + The Age of Coal _Agnes Giberne_ 179 + + Something about the Moon _Richard A. Proctor_ 183 + + The Coming of the Birds _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ 187 + + The Return of the Birds _John Burroughs_ 188 + + The Poet and the Bird: + I. The Song of the Lark 193 + II. To a Skylark _Percy B. Shelley_ 197 + + Hark, Hark! the Lark _William Shakespeare_ 201 + + Echoes of the American Revolution: + I. Patrick Henry's Famous Speech 202 + II. Marion's Men _W. Gilmore Simms_ 206 + III. In Memory of George Washington _Henry Lee_ 209 + + Three Great American Poems: + I. Thanatopsis _William Cullen Bryant_ 213 + II. The Bells _Edgar Allan Poe_ 219 + III. Marco Bozzaris _Fitz-Greene Halleck_ 224 + + The Indian _Edward Everett_ 228 + + National Retribution _Theodore Parker_ 231 + + Who are Blessed _The Bible_ 233 + + Little Gems from the Older Poets: + I. The Noble Nature _Ben Jonson_ 235 + II. A Contented Mind _Joshua Sylvester_ 235 + III. A Happy Life _Sir Henry Wotton_ 236 + IV. Solitude _Alexander Pope_ 237 + V. A Wish _Samuel Rogers_ 238 + + How King Arthur got his Name _Fiona Macleod_ 239 + + Antony's Oration over Cæsar's Dead Body _William Shakespeare_ 244 + + Selections to be Memorized: + I. The Prayer Perfect _James Whitcomb Riley_ 250 + II. Be Just and Fear Not _William Shakespeare_ 250 + III. If I can Live _Author Unknown_ 251 + IV. The Bugle Song _Alfred Tennyson_ 251 + V. The Ninetieth Psalm _Book of Psalms_ 252 + VI. Recessional _Rudyard Kipling_ 253 + + Proper Names 255 + + List of Authors 257 + + + + +ACKNOWLEDGMENTS + + +Acknowledgment and thanks are proffered to Andrew Carnegie for +permission to reprint in this volume his tract on "War as the Mother of +Civilization and Valor"; to the Bobbs-Merrill Company for their courtesy +in allowing us to use "The Prayer Perfect," from James Whitcomb Riley's +_Rhymes of Childhood_; to David Mackay for the poem by Walt Whitman +entitled "Come up from the Fields, Father"; to Charles Scribner's Sons +for the "Song of the Chattahoochee," from the _Poems of Sidney Lanier_; +and, also, to the same publishers for the selection, "The Old-fashioned +Thanksgiving," from _Bound Together_ by Donald G. Mitchell. The +selections from John Burroughs, Ralph Waldo Emerson, James T. Fields, +Nathaniel Hawthorne, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Henry W. Longfellow, and +John G. Whittier are used by permission of, and special arrangement +with, Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers of the works +of those authors. + + + + +EIGHTH READER + + + + +BROTHER AND SISTER[1] + + +I. THE HOME COMING + +Tom was to arrive early in the afternoon, and there was another +fluttering heart besides Maggie's when it was late enough for the sound +of the gig wheels to be expected. For if Mrs. Tulliver had a strong +feeling, it was fondness for her boy. At last the sound came--that quick +light bowling of the gig wheels. + +"There he is, my sweet lad!" Mrs. Tulliver stood with her arms open; +Maggie jumped first on one leg and then on the other; while Tom +descended from the gig, and said, with masculine reticence as to the +tender emotions, "Hallo! Yap--what! are you there?" + +Nevertheless he submitted to be kissed willingly enough, though Maggie +hung on his neck in rather a strangling fashion, while his blue eyes +wandered toward the croft and the lambs and the river, where he promised +himself he would begin to fish the first thing to-morrow morning. He was +one of those lads that grow everywhere in England, and at twelve or +thirteen years of age look as much alike as goslings,--a lad with a +physiognomy in which it seems impossible to discern anything but the +generic character of boyhood. + +"Maggie," said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a corner, as soon as +his mother was gone out to examine his box, and the warm parlor had +taken off the chill he had felt from the long drive, "you don't know +what I've got in my pockets," nodding his head up and down as a means of +rousing her sense of mystery. + +"No," said Maggie. "How stodgy they look, Tom! Is it marbles or +cobnuts?" Maggie's heart sank a little, because Tom always said it was +"no good" playing with her at those games--she played so badly. + +"Marbles! no; I've swopped all my marbles with the little fellows, and +cobnuts are no fun, you silly, only when the nuts are green. But see +here!" He drew something half out of his right-hand pocket. + +"What is it?" said Maggie, in a whisper. "I can see nothing but a bit of +yellow." + +"Why, it's--a--new--guess, Maggie!" + +"Oh, I can't guess, Tom," said Maggie, impatiently. + +"Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you," said Tom, thrusting his +hand back into his pocket, and looking determined. + +"No, Tom," said Maggie, imploringly, laying hold of the arm that was +held stiffly in the pocket. "I'm not cross, Tom; it was only because I +can't bear guessing. Please be good to me." + +[Illustration: The Home Coming.] + +Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, "Well, then, it's a new fish +line--two new ones--one for you, Maggie, all to yourself. I wouldn't go +halves in the toffee and gingerbread on purpose to save the money; and +Gibson and Spouncer fought with me because I wouldn't. And here's hooks; +see here!--I say, won't we go and fish to-morrow down by the Round Pool? +And you shall catch your own fish, Maggie, and put the worms on, and +everything--won't it be fun?" + +Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around Tom's neck and hug him, and +hold her cheek against his without speaking, while he slowly unwound +some of the line, saying, after a pause:-- + +"Wasn't I a good brother, now, to buy you a line all to yourself? You +know, I needn't have bought it, if I hadn't liked." + +"Yes, very, very good--I do love you, Tom." + +Tom had put the line back in his pocket, and was looking at the hooks +one by one, before he spoke again. "And the fellows fought me, because I +wouldn't give in about the toffee." + +"Oh, dear! I wish they wouldn't fight at your school, Tom. Didn't it +hurt you?" + +"Hurt me? no," said Tom, putting up the hooks again, taking out a large +pocketknife, and slowly opening the largest blade, which he looked at +meditatively as he rubbed his finger along it. Then he added--"I gave +Spouncer a black eye, I know--that's what he got by wanting to leather +me; I wasn't going to go halves because anybody leathered me." + +"Oh, how brave you are, Tom! I think you're like Samson. If there came a +lion roaring at me, I think you'd fight him--wouldn't you, Tom?" + +"How can a lion come roaring at you, you silly thing? There's no lions, +only in the shows." + +"No; but if we were in the lion countries--I mean in Africa, where it's +very hot--the lions eat people there. I can show it to you in the book +where I read it." + +"Well, I should get a gun and shoot him." + +"But if you hadn't got a gun--we might have gone out, you know, not +thinking just as we go fishing; and then a great lion might run toward +us roaring, and we couldn't get away from him. What should you do, Tom?" +Tom paused, and at last turned away contemptuously, saying, "But the +lion isn't coming. What's the use of talking?" + +"But I like to fancy how it would be," said Maggie, following him. "Just +think what you would do, Tom." + +"Oh, don't bother, Maggie! you're such a silly--I shall go and see my +rabbits." + + +II. THE FALLING OUT + +Maggie's heart began to flutter with fear. She dared not tell the sad +truth at once, but she walked after Tom in trembling silence as he went +out, thinking how she could tell him the news so as to soften at once +his sorrow and his anger; for Maggie dreaded Tom's anger of all +things--it was quite a different anger from her own. "Tom," she said +timidly, when they were out of doors, "how much money did you give for +your rabbits?" + +"Two half crowns and a sixpence," said Tom. + +"I think I've got a great deal more than that in my steel purse +upstairs. I'll ask mother to give it to you." + +"What for?" said Tom. "I don't want your money, you silly thing. I've +got a great deal more money than you, because I'm a boy. I always have +half sovereigns and sovereigns for my Christmas boxes, because I shall +be a man, and you only have five-shilling pieces, because you're only a +girl." + +"Well, but, Tom--if mother would let me give you two half crowns and a +sixpence out of my purse to put into your pocket and spend, you know; +and buy some more rabbits with it?" + +"More rabbits? I don't want any more." + +"Oh, but, Tom, they're all dead." + +Tom stopped immediately in his walk and turned round toward Maggie. "You +forgot to feed 'em, then, and Harry forgot," he said, his color +heightening for a moment, but soon subsiding. "I'll pitch into +Harry--I'll have him turned away. And I don't love you, Maggie. You +shan't go fishing with me to-morrow. I told you to go and see the +rabbits every day." + +He walked on again. + +"Yes, but I forgot--and I couldn't help it, indeed, Tom. I'm so very +sorry," said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast. + +"You're a naughty girl," said Tom, severely; "and I'm sorry I bought you +the fish line. I don't love you." + +"Oh, Tom, it's very cruel," sobbed Maggie. "I'd forgive you, if you +forgot anything--I wouldn't mind what you did--I'd forgive you and love +you." + +"Yes, you're a silly--but I never do forget things--I don't." + +"Oh, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break," said Maggie, shaking +with sobs, clinging to Tom's arm, and laying her wet cheek on his +shoulder. + +Tom shook her off, and stopped again, saying in a peremptory tone, "Now, +Maggie, you just listen. Aren't I a good brother to you?" + +"Ye-ye-es," sobbed Maggie, her chin rising and falling convulsedly. + +"Didn't I think about your fish line all this quarter, and mean to buy +it, and saved my money o' purpose, and wouldn't go halves in the toffee, +and Spouncer fought me because I wouldn't?" + +"Ye-ye-es--and I--lo-lo-love you so, Tom." + +"But you're a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my +lozenge box, and the holidays before that you let the boat drag my fish +line down when I'd set you to watch it, and you pushed your head through +my kite, all for nothing." + +"But I didn't mean," said Maggie; "I couldn't help it." + +"Yes, you could," said Tom, "if you'd minded what you were doing. And +you're a naughty girl, and you shan't go fishing with me to-morrow." +With this terrible conclusion, Tom ran away from Maggie toward the mill. + +Maggie stood motionless, except for her sobs, for a minute or two; then +she turned round and ran into the house, and up to her attic, where she +sat on the floor, and laid her head against the worm-eaten shelf, with a +crushing sense of misery. Tom was come home, and she had thought how +happy she should be--and now he was cruel to her. What use was anything, +if Tom didn't love her? Oh, he was very cruel! Hadn't she wanted to give +him the money, and said how very sorry she was? She had never been +naughty to Tom--had never meant to be naughty to him. + +"Oh, he is cruel!" Maggie sobbed aloud, finding a wretched pleasure in +the hollow resonance that came through the long empty space of the +attic. She was too miserable to be angry. + + +III. THE MAKING UP + +Maggie soon thought she had been hours in the attic, and it must be tea +time, and they were all having their tea, and not thinking of her. Well, +then, she would stay up there and starve herself--hide herself behind +the tub, and stay there all night; and then they would all be +frightened, and Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thought as she crept +behind the tub; but presently she began to cry again at the idea that +they didn't mind her being there. + +Tom had been too much interested in going the round of the premises, to +think of Maggie and the effect his anger had produced on her. He meant +to punish her, and that business having been performed, he occupied +himself with other matters, like a practical person. But when he had +been called in to tea, his father said, "Why, where's the little wench?" +and Mrs. Tulliver, almost at the same moment, said, "Where's your little +sister?"--both of them having supposed that Maggie and Tom had been +together all the afternoon. + +"I don't know," said Tom. He didn't want to "tell" of Maggie, though he +was angry with her; for Tom Tulliver was a lad of honor. + +"What! hasn't she been playing with you all this while?" said the +father. "She'd been thinking of nothing but your coming home." + +"I haven't seen her this two hours," says Tom, commencing on the plum +cake. + +"Goodness heart! She's got drowned!" exclaimed Mrs. Tulliver, rising +from her seat and running to the window. "How could you let her do so?" +she added, as became a fearful woman, accusing she didn't know whom of +she didn't know what. + +"Nay, nay, she's none drowned," said Mr. Tulliver. "You've been naughty +to her, I doubt, Tom?" + +"I'm sure I haven't, father," said Tom, indignantly. "I think she's in +the house." + +"Perhaps up in that attic," said Mrs. Tulliver, "a-singing and talking +to herself, and forgetting all about mealtimes." + +"You go and fetch her down, Tom," said Mr. Tulliver, rather sharply, his +perspicacity or his fatherly fondness for Maggie making him suspect that +the lad had been hard upon "the little un," else she would never have +left his side. "And be good to her, do you hear? Else I'll let you know +better." + +Tom never disobeyed his father, for Mr. Tulliver was a peremptory man; +but he went out rather sullenly, carrying his piece of plum cake, and +not intending to reprieve Maggie's punishment, which was no more than +she deserved. Tom was only thirteen, and had no decided views in grammar +and arithmetic, regarding them for the most part as open questions, but +he was particularly clear and positive on one point--namely, that he +would punish everybody who deserved it; why, he wouldn't have minded +being punished himself, if he deserved it; but, then, he never did +deserve it. + +It was Tom's step, then, that Maggie heard on the stairs, when her need +of love had triumphed over her pride, and she was going down with her +swollen eyes and disheveled hair to beg for pity. At least her father +would stroke her head and say, "Never mind, my wench." + +But she knew Tom's step, and her heart began to beat violently with the +sudden shock of hope. He only stood still at the top of the stairs and +said, "Maggie, you're to come down." But she rushed to him and clung +round his neck, sobbing, "O Tom, please forgive me--I can't bear it--I +will always be good--always remember things--do love me--please, dear +Tom!" + +Maggie and Tom were still very much like young animals, and so she could +rub her cheek against his, and kiss his ear in a random, sobbing way; +and there were tender fibers in the lad that had been used to answer to +Maggie's fondling; so that he behaved with a weakness quite inconsistent +with his resolution to punish her as much as she deserved; he actually +began to kiss her in return, and say:-- + +"Don't cry, then, Magsie--here, eat a bit o' cake." Maggie's sobs began +to subside, and she put out her mouth for the cake and bit a piece; and +then Tom bit a piece, just for company, and they ate together and rubbed +each other's cheeks and brows and noses together, while they ate, with a +humiliating resemblance to two friendly ponies. + +"Come along, Magsie, and have tea," said Tom at last, when there was no +more cake except what was downstairs. + +So ended the sorrows of this day. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 1: From "The Mill on the Floss," by George Eliot.] + + + + +MY LAST DAY AT SALEM HOUSE[2] + + +I pass over all that happened at school, until the anniversary of my +birthday came round in March. The great remembrance by which that time +is marked in my mind seems to have swallowed up all lesser +recollections, and to exist alone. + +It is even difficult for me to believe there was a gap of full two +months between my return to Salem House and the arrival of that +birthday. I can only understand that the fact was so, because I know it +must have been so; otherwise I should feel convinced there was no +interval, and that the one occasion trod upon the other's heels. + +How well I recollect the kind of day it was! I smell the fog that hung +about the place; I see the hoar-frost ghostly, through it; I feel my +rimy hair fall clammy on my cheek; I look along the dim perspective of +the schoolroom, with a spluttering candle here and there to light up the +foggy morning, and the breath of the boys wreathing and smoking in the +raw cold as they blow upon their fingers, and tap their feet upon the +floor. + +It was after breakfast, and we had been summoned in from the playground, +when Mr. Sharp entered and said, "David Copperfield is to go into the +parlor." + +I expected a hamper from home, and brightened at the order. Some of the +boys about me put in their claim not to be forgotten in the distribution +of the good things, as I got out of my seat with great alacrity. + +"Don't hurry, David," said Mr. Sharp. "There's time enough, my boy, +don't hurry." + +I might have been surprised by the feeling tone in which he spoke, if I +had given it a thought; but I gave it none until afterward. I hurried +away to the parlor; and there I found Mr. Creakle, sitting at his +breakfast with the cane and newspaper before him, and Mrs. Creakle with +an opened letter in her hand. But no hamper. + +"David Copperfield," said Mrs. Creakle, leading me to a sofa, and +sitting down beside me, "I want to speak to you very particularly. I +have something to tell you, my child." + +Mr. Creakle, at whom of course I looked, shook his head without looking +at me, and stopped up a sigh with a very large piece of buttered toast. + +"You are too young to know how the world changes every day," said Mrs. +Creakle, "and how the people in it pass away. But we all have to learn +it, David; some of us when we are young, some of us when we are old, +some of us at all times of our lives." + +I looked at her earnestly. + +"When you came away from home at the end of the vacation," said Mrs. +Creakle, after a pause, "were they all well?" After another pause, "Was +your mamma well?" + +I trembled without distinctly knowing why, and still looked at her +earnestly, making no attempt to answer. + +"Because," said she, "I grieve to tell you that I hear this morning your +mamma is very ill." + +A mist rose between Mrs. Creakle and me, and her figure seemed to move +in it for an instant. Then I felt the burning tears run down my face, +and it was steady again. + +"She is very dangerously ill," she added. + +I knew all now. + +"She is dead." There was no need to tell me so. I had already broken out +into a desolate cry, and felt an orphan in the wide world. + +She was very kind to me. She kept me there all day, and left me alone +sometimes; and I cried and wore myself to sleep, and awoke and cried +again. When I could cry no more, I began to think; and then the +oppression on my breast was heaviest, and my grief a dull pain that +there was no ease for. + +And yet my thoughts were idle; not intent on the calamity that weighed +upon my heart, but idly loitering near it. I thought of our house shut +up and hushed. I thought of the little baby, who, Mrs. Creakle said, had +been pining away for some time, and who, they believed, would die too. I +thought of my father's grave in the churchyard, by our house, and of my +mother lying there beneath the tree I knew so well. + +I stood upon a chair when I was left alone, and looked into the glass to +see how red my eyes were, and how sorrowful my face. I considered, after +some hours were gone, if my tears were really hard to flow now, as they +seemed to be, what, in connection with my loss, it would affect me most +to think of when I drew near home--for I was going home to the funeral. +I am sensible of having felt that a dignity attached to me among the +rest of the boys, and that I was important in my affliction. + +If ever child were stricken with sincere grief, I was. But I remembered +that this importance was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in +the playground that afternoon while the boys were in school. When I saw +them glancing at me out of the windows, as they went up to their +classes, I felt distinguished, and looked more melancholy, and walked +slower. When school was over, and they came out and spoke to me, I felt +it rather good in myself not to be proud to any of them, and to take +exactly the same notice of them all, as before. + +I was to go home next night; not by the mail, but by the heavy night +coach, which was called the Farmer, and was principally used by country +people traveling short intermediate distances upon the road. We had no +story telling that evening, and Traddles insisted on lending me his +pillow. I don't know what good he thought it would do me, for I had one +of my own; but it was all he had to lend, poor fellow, except a sheet of +letter paper full of skeletons; and that he gave me at parting, as a +soother of my sorrows and a contribution to my peace of mind. + +I left Salem House upon the morrow afternoon. I little thought then that +I left it, never to return. We traveled very slowly all night, and did +not get into Yarmouth before nine or ten o'clock in the morning. I +looked out for Mr. Barkis, but he was not there; and instead of him a +fat, short-winded, merry-looking little old man in black, with rusty +little bunches of ribbons at the knees of his breeches, black stockings, +and a broad-brimmed hat, came puffing up to the coach window, and said, +"Master Copperfield?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you come with me, young sir, if you please," he said, opening the +door, "and I shall have the pleasure of taking you home!" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 2: From "David Copperfield," by Charles Dickens.] + + EXPRESSION: The two stories which you have just read were written + by two of the greatest masters of fiction in English literature. + Talk with your teacher about George Eliot and Charles Dickens, and + learn all that you can about their works. Which of these two + stories do you prefer? Why? + + Reread the conversation on pages 14 and 15. Imagine yourself to be + Tom or Maggie, and speak just as he or she did. Read the + conversation on pages 16 and 17 in the same way. Reread other + portions that you like particularly well. + + In what respect does the second story differ most strongly from the + first? Select the most striking passage and read it with expression + sad feeling. + + + + +THE DEPARTURE FROM MISS PINKERTON'S[3] + + +I + +One sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate of +Miss Pinkerton's Academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large +family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by a fat +coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an +hour. + +A black servant, who reposed on the box beside the fat coachman, +uncurled his bandy legs as soon as the equipage drew up opposite Miss +Pinkerton's shining brass plate; and as he pulled the bell, at least a +score of young heads were seen peering out of the narrow windows of the +stately old brick house. Nay, the acute observer might have recognized +the little red nose of good-natured Miss Jemima Pinkerton herself, +rising over some geranium pots in the window of that lady's own drawing +room. + +"It is Mrs. Sedley's coach, sister," said Miss Jemima. "Sambo, the black +servant, has just rung the bell; and the coachman has a new red +waistcoat." + +"Have you completed all the necessary preparations incident to Miss +Sedley's departure?" asked Miss Pinkerton, that majestic lady, the +friend of the famous literary man, Dr. Johnson, the author of the great +"Dixonary" of the English language, called commonly the great +Lexicographer. + +"The girls were up at four this morning, packing her trunks, sister," +answered Miss Jemima. "We have made her a bowpot." + +"Say a bouquet, sister Jemima; 'tis more genteel." + +"Well, a booky as big almost as a haystack. I have put up two bottles of +the gillyflower water for Mrs. Sedley, and the receipt for making it is +in Amelia's box." + +"And I trust, Miss Jemima, you have made a copy of Miss Sedley's +account. That is it, is it? Very good! Ninety-three pounds, four +shillings. Be kind enough to address it to John Sedley, Esquire, and to +seal this billet which I have written to his lady." + + +II + +In Miss Jemima's eyes an autograph letter of her sister, Miss Pinkerton, +was an object of as deep veneration as would have been a letter from a +sovereign. Only when her pupils quitted the establishment, or when they +were about to be married, and once when poor Miss Birch died of the +scarlet fever, was Miss Pinkerton known to write personally to the +parents of her pupils. + +In the present instance Miss Pinkerton's "billet" was to the following +effect:-- + + _The Mall, Chiswick, June 15._ + + MADAM: + + After her six years' residence at the Mall, I have the honor and + happiness of presenting Miss Amelia Sedley to her parents, as a + young lady not unworthy to occupy a fitting position in their + polished and refined circle. Those virtues which characterize the + young English gentlewomen; those accomplishments which become her + birth and station, will not be found wanting in the amiable Miss + Sedley, whose industry and obedience have endeared her to her + instructors, and whose delightful sweetness of temper has charmed + her aged and her youthful companions. + + In music, dancing, in orthography, in every variety of embroidery + and needle-work she will be found to have realized her friends' + fondest wishes. In geography there is still much to be desired; and + a careful and undeviating use of the back-board, for four hours + daily during the next three years, is recommended as necessary to + the acquirement of that dignified deportment and carriage so + requisite for every young lady of fashion. + + In the principles of religion and morality, Miss Sedley will be + found worthy of an establishment which has been honored by the + presence of The Great Lexicographer and the patronage of the + admirable Mrs. Chapone. In leaving them all, Miss Amelia carries + with her the hearts of her companions and the affectionate regards + of her mistress, who has the honor to subscribe herself, + + Madam your most obliged humble servant, + + BARBARA PINKERTON. + + P.S.--Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley. It is particularly + requested that Miss Sharp's stay in Russell Square may not exceed + ten days. The family of distinction with whom she is engaged as + governess desire to avail themselves of her services as soon as + possible. + +This letter completed, Miss Pinkerton proceeded to write her own name +and Miss Sedley's in the flyleaf of a Johnson's Dictionary, the +interesting work which she invariably presented to her scholars on their +departure from the Mall. On the cover was inserted a copy of "Lines +addressed to a Young Lady on quitting Miss Pinkerton's School, at the +Mall; by the late revered Dr. Samuel Johnson." In fact, the +Lexicographer's name was always on the lips of this majestic woman, and +a visit he had paid to her was the cause of her reputation and her +fortune. + +Being commanded by her elder sister to get "The Dixonary" from the +cupboard, Miss Jemima had extracted two copies of the book from the +receptacle in question. When Miss Pinkerton had finished the inscription +in the first, Jemima, with rather a dubious and timid air, handed her +the second. + +"For whom is this, Miss Jemima?" said Miss Pinkerton with awful +coldness. + +"For Becky Sharp," answered Jemima, trembling very much, and blushing +over her withered face and neck, as she turned her back on her sister. +"For Becky Sharp. She's going, too." + +"MISS JEMIMA!" exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, in the largest capitals. "Are +you in your senses? Replace the Dixonary in the closet, and never +venture to take such a liberty in future." + +With an unusual display of courage, Miss Jemima mildly protested: "Well, +sister, it's only two and nine-pence, and poor Becky will be miserable +if she doesn't get one." + +"Send Miss Sedley instantly to me," was Miss Pinkerton's only answer. +And, venturing not to say another word, poor Jemima trotted off, +exceedingly flurried and nervous, while the two pupils, Miss Sedley and +Miss Sharp, were making final preparations for their departure for Miss +Sedley's home. + + +III + +Well, then. The flowers, and the presents, and the trunks, and the +bonnet boxes of Miss Sedley having been arranged by Mr. Sambo in the +carriage, together with a very small and weather-beaten old cowskin +trunk with Miss Sharp's card neatly nailed upon it, which was delivered +by Sambo with a grin, and packed by the coachman with a corresponding +sneer, the hour for parting came; and the grief of that moment was +considerably lessened by the admirable discourse which Miss Pinkerton +addressed to her pupil. + +Not that the parting speech caused Amelia to philosophize, or that it +armed her in any way with a calmness, the result of argument; but it was +intolerably dull, and having the fear of her schoolmistress greatly +before her eyes, Miss Sedley did not venture, in her presence, to give +way to any ablutions of private grief. A seed cake and a bottle of wine +were produced in the drawing room, as on the solemn occasions of the +visits of parents; and these refreshments being partaken of, Miss Sedley +was at liberty to depart. + +"You'll go in and say good-by to Miss Pinkerton, Becky!" said Miss +Jemima to that young lady, of whom nobody took any notice, and who was +coming downstairs with her own bandbox. + +"I suppose I must," said Miss Sharp calmly, and much to the wonder of +Miss Jemima; and the latter having knocked at the door, and receiving +permission to come in, Miss Sharp advanced in a very unconcerned manner, +and said in French, and with a perfect accent, "_Mademoiselle, je viens +vous faire mes adieux_."[4] + +Miss Pinkerton did not understand French, as we know; she only directed +those who did. Biting her lips and throwing up her venerable and +Roman-nosed head, she said, "Miss Sharp, I wish you a good morning." + +As she spoke, she waved one hand, both by way of adieu and to give Miss +Sharp an opportunity of shaking one of the fingers of the hand, which +was left out for that purpose. Miss Sharp only folded her own hands with +a very frigid smile and bow, and quite declined to accept the proffered +honor; on which Miss Pinkerton tossed up her turban more indignantly +than ever. In fact, it was a little battle between the young lady and +the old one, and the latter was worsted. + +"Come away, Becky," said Miss Jemima, pulling the young woman away in +great alarm; and the drawing room door closed upon her forever. + +[Illustration: The Parting.] + +Then came the struggle and parting below. Words refuse to tell it. All +the servants were there in the hall--all the dear friends--all the young +ladies--even the dancing master, who had just arrived; and there was +such a scuffling and hugging, and kissing, and crying, with the +hysterical _yoops_ of Miss Schwartz, the parlor boarder, as no pen can +depict, and as the tender heart would feign pass over. + +The embracing was finished; they parted--that is, Miss Sedley parted +from her friends. Miss Sharp had demurely entered the carriage some +minutes before. Nobody cried for leaving _her_. + +Sambo of the bandy legs slammed the carriage door on his young weeping +mistress. He sprang up behind the carriage. + +"Stop!" cried Miss Jemima, rushing to the gate with a parcel. + +"It's some sandwiches, my dear," she called to Amelia. "You may be +hungry, you know; and, Becky--Becky Sharp--here's a book for you, that +my sister--that is, I--Johnson's Dixonary, you know. You mustn't leave +us without that. Good-by! Drive on, coachman!--God bless you! Good-by." + +Then the kind creature retreated into the garden, overcome with emotion. + +But lo! and just as the coach drove off, Miss Sharp suddenly put her +pale face out of the window, and flung the book back into the +garden--flung it far and fast--watching it fall at the feet of +astonished Miss Jemima; then sank back in the carriage, exclaiming, "So +much for the 'Dixonary'; and thank God I'm out of Chiswick!" + +The shock of such an act almost caused Jemima to faint with terror. + +"Well, I never--" she began. "What an audacious--" she gasped. Emotion +prevented her from completing either sentence. + +The carriage rolled away; the great gates were closed; the bell rang for +the dancing lesson. The world is before the two young ladies; and so, +farewell to Chiswick Mall! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 3: From "Vanity Fair," by William Makepeace Thackeray.] + +[Footnote 4: "Madam, I have come to tell you good-by."] + + EXPRESSION: By many able critics, Thackeray is regarded as a + greater novelist than either Dickens or George Eliot. Compare this + extract from one of his best works with the two selections which + precede it. Which of the three stories is the most interesting to + you? Which sounds the best when read aloud? Which is the most + humorous? Which is the most pathetic? + + Reread the three selections very carefully. Now tell what you + observe about the style of each. In what respects is the style of + the third story different from that of either of the others? Reread + Miss Pinkerton's letter. What peculiarities do you observe in it? + Select and reread the most humorous passage in this last story. + + + + +TWO GEMS FROM BROWNING + + +I. INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP + +In the small kingdom of Bavaria, on the south bank of the Danube River, +there is a famous old city called Ratisbon. It is not a very large city, +but its history can be traced far back to the time when the Romans had a +military camp there which they used as an outpost against the German +barbarians. At one time it ranked among the most flourishing towns of +Germany. + +It is now of little commercial importance--a quaint and quiet old place, +with a fine cathedral and many notable buildings which testify to its +former greatness. + +During the earlier years of the nineteenth century, Napoleon Bonaparte, +emperor of the French, was engaged in bitter warfare with Austria and +indeed with nearly the whole of Europe. In April, 1809, the Austrian +army, under Grand Duke Charles, was intrenched in Ratisbon and the +neighboring towns. There it was attacked by the French army commanded by +Napoleon himself and led by the brave Marshal Lannes, Duke of +Montebello. + +The battle raged, first on this side of the city, then on that, and for +several days no one could tell which of the combatants would be +victorious. At length Napoleon decided to end the matter by storming the +city and, if possible, driving the archduke from his stronghold. He, +therefore, sent Marshal Lannes forward to direct the battle, while he +watched the conflict and gave commands from a distance. For a long time +the issue seemed doubtful, and not even Napoleon could guess what the +result would be. Late in the day, however, French valor prevailed, the +Austrians were routed, and Marshal Lannes forced his way into the city. + +It was at this time that the incident described so touchingly in the +following poem by Robert Browning is supposed to have taken place. We do +not know, nor does any one know, whether the story has any foundation in +fact. It illustrates, however, the spirit of bravery and self-sacrifice +that prevailed among the soldiers of Napoleon; and such an incident +might, indeed, have happened not only at Ratisbon, but at almost any +place where the emperor's presence urged his troops to victory. For, +such was Napoleon's magic influence and such was the love which he +inspired among all his followers, that thousands of young men were ready +cheerfully to give their lives for the promotion of his selfish +ambition. + +The poem, which is now regarded as one of the classics of our language, +was first published in 1843, in a small volume entitled "Dramatic +Lyrics." The same volume contained the well-known rime of "The Pied +Piper of Hamelin." Robert Browning was at that time a young man of +thirty, and most of the poems which afterwards made him famous were +still unwritten. + + +BROWNING'S POEM + + You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: + A mile or so away, + On a little mound, Napoleon + Stood on our storming day: + With neck outthrust, 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 hardly 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. + +[Illustration: "We've got you Ratisbon!"] + + "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 chiefs 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. + + EXPRESSION: This is a difficult selection to read properly and with + spirit and feeling. Study each stanza until you understand it + thoroughly. Practice reading the following passages, giving the + proper emphasis and inflections. + + _You know, we French stormed Ratisbon. + With neck outthrust you fancy how. + "We've got you Ratisbon!" + "You're wounded!" "Nay, I'm killed, Sire!"_ + + WORD STUDY: _Napoleon_, _Ratisbon_, _Bavaria_, _Lannes_; _anon_, + _vans_, _sheathes_, _eaglet_, _Sire_. + + Explain: "_To see your flag bird flap his vans._" "_His plans + soared up again like fire._" + +[Illustration] + + +II. DOG TRAY[5] + + A beggar child + Sat on a quay's edge: like a bird + Sang to herself at careless play, + And fell into the stream. "Dismay! + Help, you standers-by!" None stirred. + + Bystanders reason, think of wives + And children ere they risk their lives. + Over the balustrade has bounced + A mere instinctive dog, and pounced + Plumb on the prize. "How well he dives!" + + "Up he comes with the child, see, tight + In mouth, alive, too, clutched from quite + A depth of ten feet--twelve, I bet! + Good dog! What, off again? There's yet + Another child to save? All right!" + + "How strange we saw no other fall! + It's instinct in the animal. + Good dog! But he's a long time under: + If he got drowned, I should not wonder-- + Strong current, that against the wall! + + "Here he comes, holds in mouth this time + --What may the thing be? Well, that's prime! + Now, did you ever? Reason reigns + In man alone, since all Tray's pains + Have fished--the child's doll from the slime!" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 5: By Robert Browning.] + + EXPRESSION: Read the story silently, being sure that you understand + it clearly. Then read each passage aloud, giving special attention + to emphasis and inflections. Answer these questions by reading from + the poem: + + Where was the child? What did she do? + What did some one cry out? + Why did not the bystanders help? + What did the dog do? + What did one bystander say? + What did another say when the dog came up? + What did he say when the dog went back? + + Read correctly: "_Well, that's prime!_" "_Now, did you ever?_" + "_All right!_" "_If he got drowned, I should not wonder._" + + In what respects do these two poems differ from your favorite poems + by Longfellow or Tennyson? Do you think there is much music in + them? + + + + +THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA[6] + + +It was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, that Columbus first +beheld the New World. As the day dawned he saw before him a level +island, several leagues in extent, and covered with trees like a +continual orchard. Though apparently uncultivated, it was populous, for +the inhabitants were seen issuing from all parts of the woods and +running to the shore. They stood gazing at the ships, and appeared, by +their attitudes and gestures, to be lost in astonishment. + +Columbus made signal for the ships to cast anchor and the boats to be +manned and armed. He entered his own boat richly attired in scarlet and +holding the royal standard; while Martin Alonzo Pinzon and his brother +put off in company in their boats, each with a banner of the enterprise +emblazoned with a green cross, having on either side the letters F and +Y, the initials of the Castilian monarchs Fernando and Ysabel, +surmounted by crowns. + +As he approached the shore, Columbus, who was disposed for all kinds of +agreeable impressions, was delighted with the purity and suavity of the +atmosphere, the crystal transparency of the sea, and the extraordinary +beauty of the vegetation. He beheld also fruits of an unknown kind upon +the trees which overhung the shores. On landing he threw himself on his +knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks to God with tears of joy. + +His example was followed by the rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed +with the same feelings of gratitude. Columbus then rising drew his +sword, displayed the royal standard, and, assembling round him the two +captains and the rest who had landed, he took solemn possession in the +name of the Castilian sovereigns, giving the island the name of San +Salvador. Having complied with the requisite forms and ceremonies, he +called upon all present to take the oath of obedience to him as admiral +and viceroy, representing the persons of the sovereigns. + +The feelings of the crew now burst forth in the most extravagant +transports. They had recently considered themselves devoted men hurrying +forward to destruction; they now looked upon themselves as favorites of +fortune and gave themselves up to the most unbounded joy. They thronged +around the admiral with overflowing zeal, some embracing him, others +kissing his hands. + +Those who had been most mutinous and turbulent during the voyage were +now most devoted and enthusiastic. Some begged favors of him, as if he +had already wealth and honors in his gift. Many abject spirits, who had +outraged him by their insolence, now crouched at his feet, begging +pardon for all the trouble they had caused him and promising the +blindest obedience for the future. + +The natives of the island, when at the dawn of day they had beheld the +ships hovering on their coast, had supposed them monsters which had +issued from the deep during the night. They had crowded to the beach and +watched their movements with awful anxiety. Their veering about +apparently without effort, and the shifting and furling of their sails, +resembling huge wings, filled them with astonishment. When they beheld +their boats approach the shore, and a number of strange beings clad in +glittering steel, or raiment of various colors, landing upon the beach, +they fled in affright to the woods. + +Finding, however, that there was no attempt to pursue or molest them, +they gradually recovered from their terror and approached the Spaniards +with great awe, frequently prostrating themselves on the earth and +making signs of adoration. During the ceremonies of taking possession, +they remained gazing in timid admiration at the complexion, the beards, +the shining armor and splendid dress of the Spaniards. The admiral +particularly attracted their attention, from his commanding height, his +air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the deference which was paid +him by his companions; all which pointed him out to be the commander. + +When they had still further recovered from their fears, they approached +the Spaniards, touched their beards and examined their hands and faces, +admiring their whiteness. Columbus was pleased with their gentleness and +confiding simplicity, and soon won them by his kindly bearing. They now +supposed that the ships had sailed out of the crystal firmament which +bounded their horizon, or had descended from above on their ample wings, +and that these marvelous beings were inhabitants of the skies. + +The natives of the island were no less objects of curiosity to the +Spaniards, differing as they did from any race of men they had ever +seen. Their appearance gave no promise of either wealth or civilization, +for they were entirely naked and painted with a variety of colors. With +some it was confined merely to a part of the face, the nose, or around +the eyes; with others it extended to the whole body and gave them a wild +and fantastic appearance. + +Their complexion was of a tawny, or copper hue, and they were entirely +destitute of beards. Their hair was not crisped, like the recently +discovered tribes of the African coast, under the same latitude, but +straight and coarse, partly cut short above the ears, but some locks +were left long behind and falling upon their shoulders. Their features, +though obscured and disfigured by paint, were agreeable; they had lofty +foreheads and remarkably fine eyes. They were of moderate stature and +well shaped. + +As Columbus supposed himself to have landed on an island at the +extremity of India, he called the natives by the general name of +Indians, which was universally adopted before the true nature of his +discovery was known, and has since been extended to all the aboriginals +of the New World. + +The islanders were friendly and gentle. Their only arms were lances, +hardened at the end by fire, or pointed with a flint, or the teeth or +bone of a fish. There was no iron to be seen, nor did they appear +acquainted with its properties; for, when a drawn sword was presented to +them, they unguardedly took it by the edge. + +Columbus distributed among them colored caps, glass beads, hawks' bells +and other trifles, such as the Portuguese were accustomed to trade with +among the nations of the gold coast of Africa. They received them +eagerly, hung the beads round their necks, and were wonderfully pleased +with their finery, and with the sound of the bells. The Spaniards +remained all day on shore refreshing themselves, after their anxious +voyage, amid the beautiful groves of the island, and returned on board +late in the evening, delighted with all they had seen. + +The island where Columbus had thus, for the first time, set his foot +upon the New World, was called by the natives Guanahane. It still +retains the name of San Salvador, which he gave to it, though called by +the English Cat Island. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 6: From "The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus," by +Washington Irving.] + + + + +THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS[7] + + + King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, + And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; + The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride, + And 'mong them sat the Count de Lorge with one for whom he sighed: + And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, + Valor, and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. + + Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; + They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their + paws; + With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another, + Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thundrous smother; + The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air; + Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there." + +[Illustration: The Glove and the Lions.] + + 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 brave as brave can be; + He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me; + King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine; + I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine." + + She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled; + He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild: + His leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place, + Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. + "Well done!" cried Francis, "bravely done!" and he rose from where he + sat: + "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 7: By Leigh Hunt, an English essayist and poet (1784-1859).] + + EXPRESSION: Read this poem silently, trying to understand fully the + circumstances of the story: (1) the time; (2) the place; (3) the + character of the leading actors. Then read aloud each stanza with + feeling and expression. + + + + +ST. FRANCIS, THE GENTLE[8] + + +Seven hundred years ago, Francis the gentlest of the saints was born in +Assisi, the quaint Umbrian town among the rocks; and for twenty years +and more he cherished but one thought, and one desire, and one hope; and +these were that he might lead the beautiful and holy and sorrowful life +which our Master lived on earth, and that in every way he might resemble +Him in the purity and loveliness of his humanity. + +Not to men alone but to all living things on earth and air and water was +St. Francis most gracious and loving. They were all his little brothers +and sisters, and he forgot them not, still less scorned or slighted +them, but spoke to them often and blessed them, and in return they +showed him great love and sought to be of his fellowship. He bade his +companions keep plots of ground for their little sisters the flowers, +and to these lovely and speechless creatures he spoke, with no great +fear that they would not understand his words. And all this was a +marvelous thing in a cruel time, when human life was accounted of slight +worth by fierce barons and ruffling marauders. + +For the bees he set honey and wine in the winter, lest they should feel +the nip of the cold too keenly; and bread for the birds, that they all, +but especially "my brother Lark," should have joy of Christmastide, and +at Rieti a brood of redbreasts were the guests of the house and raided +the tables while the brethren were at meals; and when a youth gave St. +Francis the turtledoves he had snared, the Saint had nests made for +them, and there they laid their eggs and hatched them, and fed from the +hands of the brethren. + +Out of affection a fisherman once gave him a great tench, but he put it +back into the clear water of the lake, bidding it love God; and the fish +played about the boat till St. Francis blessed it and bade it go. + +"Why dost thou torment my little brothers the Lambs," he asked of a +shepherd, "carrying them bound thus and hanging from a staff, so that +they cry piteously?" And in exchange for the lambs he gave the shepherd +his cloak. And at another time seeing amid a flock of goats one white +lamb feeding, he was concerned that he had nothing but his brown robe to +offer for it (for it reminded him of our Lord among the Pharisees); but +a merchant came up and paid for it and gave it him, and he took it with +him to the city and preached about it so that the hearts of those +hearing him were melted. Afterwards the lamb was left in the care of a +convent of holy women, and to the Saint's great delight, these wove him +a gown of the lamb's innocent wool. + +Fain would I tell of the coneys that took refuge in the folds of his +habit, and of the swifts which flew screaming in their glee while he was +preaching; but now it is time to speak of the sermon which he preached +to a great multitude of birds in a field by the roadside, when he was on +his way to Bevagno. Down from the trees flew the birds to hear him, and +they nestled in the grassy bosom of the field, and listened till he had +done. And these were the words he spoke to them:-- + +"Little birds, little sisters mine, much are you holden to God your +Creator; and at all times and in every place you ought to praise Him. +Freedom He has given you to fly everywhere; and raiment He has given +you, double and threefold. More than this, He preserved your kind in the +Ark, so that your race might not come to an end. Still more do you owe +Him for the element of air, which He has made your portion. Over and +above, you sow not, neither do you reap; but God feeds you, and gives +you streams and springs for your thirst; the mountains He gives you, and +the valleys for your refuge, and the tall trees wherein to build your +nests. And because you cannot sew or spin, God takes thought to clothe +you, you and your little ones. It must be, then, that your Creator loves +you much, since He has granted you so many benefits. Be on your guard +then against the sin of ingratitude, and strive always to give God +praise." + +And when the Saint ceased speaking, the birds made such signs as they +might, by spreading their wings and opening their beaks, to show their +love and pleasure; and when he had blessed them with the sign of the +cross, they sprang up, and singing songs of unspeakable sweetness, away +they streamed in a great cross to the four quarters of heaven. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 8: By William Canton, an English journalist and poet (1845- ).] + + + + +THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS[9] + + + Up soared the lark into the air, + A shaft of song, a winged prayer, + As if a soul, released from pain, + Were flying back to heaven again. + + St. Francis heard; it was to him + An emblem of the Seraphim; + The upward motion of the fire, + The light, the heat, the heart's desire. + + Around Assisi's convent gate + The birds, God's poor who cannot wait, + From moor and mere and darksome wood, + Came flocking for their dole of food. + + "O brother birds," St. Francis said, + "Ye come to me and ask for bread, + But not with bread alone to-day + Shall ye be fed and sent away. + + "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds, + With manna of celestial words; + Not mine, though mine they seem to be, + Not mine, though they be spoken through me. + + "Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise + The great creator in your lays; + He giveth you your plumes of down, + Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown. + + "He giveth you your wings to fly + And breathe a purer air on high, + And careth for you everywhere + Who for yourselves so little care." + + With flutter of swift wings and songs + Together rose the feathered throngs + And, singing, scattered far apart; + Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart. + + He knew not if the brotherhood + His homily had understood; + He only knew that to one ear + The meaning of his words was clear. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 9: By Henry W. Longfellow.] + + EXPRESSION: Talk with your teacher about the life, work, and + influence of St. Francis. Refer to cyclopedias for information. + Read aloud the prose version of his sermon to the birds; the + poetical version. Compare the two versions. What is said in one + that is not said in the other? + + + + +IN THE WOODS[10] + + +Years ago, when quite a youth, I was rambling in the woods one day with +my brothers, gathering black birch and wintergreens. + +As we lay upon the ground, gazing vaguely up into the trees, I caught +sight of a bird, the like of which I had never before seen or heard of. +It was the blue yellow-backed warbler, which I have found since; but to +my young fancy it seemed like some fairy bird, so curiously marked was +it, and so new and unexpected. I saw it a moment as the flickering +leaves parted, noted the white spot on its wing, and it was gone. + +It was a revelation. It was the first intimation I had had that the +woods we knew so well held birds that we knew not at all. Were our eyes +and ears so dull? Did we pass by the beautiful things in nature without +seeing them? Had we been blind then? There were the robin, the bluejay, +the yellowbird, and others familiar to every one; but who ever dreamed +that there were still others that not even the hunters saw, and whose +names few had ever heard? + +The surprise that awaits every close observer of birds, the thrill of +delight that accompanies it, and the feeling of fresh eager inquiry that +follows can hardly be awakened by any other pursuit. + +There is a fascination about it quite overpowering. + +It fits so well with other things--with fishing, hunting, farming, +walking, camping out--with all that takes one to the fields and the +woods. One may go blackberrying and make some rare discovery; or, while +driving his cow to pasture, hear a new song, or make a new observation. +Secrets lurk on all sides. There is news in every bush. Expectation is +ever on tiptoe. What no man ever saw may the next moment be revealed to +you. + +What a new interest this gives to the woods! How you long to explore +every nook and corner of them! One must taste it to understand. The +looker-on sees nothing to make such a fuss about. Only a little glimpse +of feathers and a half-musical note or two--why all this ado? It is not +the mere knowledge of birds that you get, but a new interest in the +fields and woods, the air, the sunshine, the healing fragrance and +coolness, and the getting away from the worry of life. + +Yesterday was an October day of rare brightness and warmth. I spent the +most of it in a wild, wooded gorge of Rock Creek. A tree which stood +upon the bank had dropped some of its fruit in the water. As I stood +there, half-leg deep, a wood duck came flying down the creek. + +Presently it returned, flying up; then it came back again, and sweeping +low around a bend, prepared to alight in a still, dark reach in the +creek which was hidden from my view. As I passed that way about half an +hour afterward, the duck started up, uttering its wild alarm note. In +the stillness I could hear the whistle of its wings and the splash of +the water when it took flight. Near by I saw where a raccoon had come +down to the water for fresh clams, leaving its long, sharp track in the +mud and sand. Before I had passed this hidden stretch of water, a pair +of strange thrushes flew up from the ground and perched on a low branch. + +Who can tell how much this duck, this footprint on the sand, and these +strange thrushes from the far North enhanced the interest and charm of +the autumn woods? + +Birds cannot be learned satisfactorily from books. The satisfaction is +in learning them from nature. One must have an original experience with +the birds. The books are only the guide, the invitation. But let me say +in the same breath that the books can by no manner of means be dispensed +with. + +In the beginning one finds it very difficult to identify a bird in any +verbal description. First find your bird; observe its ways, its song, +its calls, its flight, its haunts. Then compare with your book. In this +way the feathered kingdom may soon be conquered. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 10: By John Burroughs, an American writer on nature (1837- ).] + + EXPRESSION: This and the selection which follows are fine examples + of descriptive writing. Read them so that your hearers will + understand every statement clearly and without special effort on + their part. Talk about the various objects that are mentioned, and + tell what you have learned about them from other sources. + + + + +BEES AND FLOWERS[11] + + +Fancy yourself to be in a pretty country garden on a hot summer's +morning. Perhaps you have been walking, or reading, or playing, but it +is getting too hot now to do anything. So you have chosen the shadiest +nook under the walnut tree, close to some pretty flower bed. + +As you lie there you notice a gentle buzzing near you, and you see that +on the flower bed close by several bees are working busily among the +flowers. They do not seem to mind the heat, nor do they wish to rest; +and they fly so lightly, and look so happy over their work, that it is +pleasant to watch them. + +That great bumblebee takes it leisurely enough as she goes lumbering +along, poking her head into the larkspurs; she remains so long in each +that you might almost think she had fallen asleep. The brown hive-bee, +on the other hand, moves busily and quickly among the stocks, sweet +peas, and mignonette. She is evidently out on active duty, and means to +get all she can from each flower, so as to carry a good load back to the +hive. In some blossoms she does not stay a moment, but draws her head +back almost as soon as she has popped it in, as if to say, "No honey +there." But over other flowers she lingers a little, and then scrambles +out again with her drop of honey, and goes off to seek more. + +Let us watch her a little more closely. There are many different plants +growing in the flower bed, but, curiously enough, she does not go first +to one kind and then to another, but keeps to one the whole time. + +Now she flies away. Rouse yourself to follow her, and you will see she +takes her way back to the hive. We all know why she makes so many +journeys between the garden and the hive, and that she is collecting +drops of nectar from the flowers and carrying it to the hive to be +stored up in the honeycomb for the winter's food. When she comes back +again to the garden, we will follow her in her work among the flowers, +and see what she is doing for them in return for their gifts to her. + +No doubt you have already learned that plants can make better and +stronger seeds when they can get the pollen dust from other plants. But +I am sure that you will be very much surprised to hear that the colors, +the scent, and the curious shapes of the flowers are all so many baits +to attract insects. And for what reason? In order that the insects may +come and carry the pollen dust from one plant to another. + +So far as we know, it is entirely for this purpose that the plants form +honey in different parts of the flower. This food they prepare for the +insects, and then they have all sorts of contrivances to entice the +little creatures to come and get it. The plants hang out gay-colored +signs, as much as to say:-- + +"Come to me, and I will give you honey, if you will bring me pollen dust +in exchange." + +If you watch the different kinds of grasses, sedges, and rushes, which +have such tiny flowers that you can scarcely see them, you will find +that no insects visit them. Neither will you ever find bees buzzing +round oak trees, elms, or birches. But on the pretty and sweet-smelling +apple blossoms you will find bees, wasps, and other insects. + +The reason of this is that grasses, sedges, rushes, and oak trees have a +great deal of pollen dust. As the wind blows them to and fro it wafts +the dust from one flower to another. And so these plants do not need to +give out honey, or to have gaudy or sweet-scented flowers to attract +insects. + +But the brilliant poppy, the large-flowered hollyhock, the flaunting +dandelion, and the bright blue forget-me-not,--all these are visited by +insects, which easily catch sight of them and hasten to sip their honey. + +We must not forget what the fragrance of the flowers can do. Have you +ever noticed the delicious odor which comes from beds of mignonette, +mint, or sweet alyssum? These plants have found another way of +attracting the insects; they have no need of bright colors, for their +fragrance is quite as true and certain a guide. You will be surprised if +you once begin to count them up, how many dull-looking flowers are +sweet-scented, while some gaudy flowers have little or no scent. Still +we find some flowers, like the beautiful lily, the lovely rose, and the +delicate hyacinth, which have color and fragrance and graceful shapes +all combined. + +But there are still other ways by which flowers secure the visits of +insects. Have you not observed that different flowers open and close at +different times? The daisy receives its name "day's eye" because it +opens at sunrise and closes at sunset, while the evening primrose +spreads out its flowers just as the daisy is going to bed. + +What do you think is the reason of this? If you go near a bed of evening +primroses just when the sun is setting, you will soon be able to guess. +They will then give out such a sweet odor that you will not doubt for a +moment that they are calling the evening moths to come and visit them. +The daisy, however, opens by day and is therefore visited by day +insects. + +Again, some flowers close whenever rain is coming. Look at the daisies +when a storm is threatening. As the sky grows dark and heavy, you will +see them shrink and close till the sun shines again. They do this +because in the center of the flower there is a drop of honey which would +be spoiled if it were washed by the rain. + +And now you will see why the cup-shaped flowers so often droop their +heads,--think of the snowdrop, the lily-of-the-valley, and a host of +others. How pretty they look with their bells hanging so modestly from +the slender stalk! They are bending down to protect the honey within +their cups. + +We are gradually learning that everything which a plant does has its +meaning, if we can only find it out. And when we are aware of this, a +flower garden may become a new world to us if we open our eyes to all +that is going on in it. And so we learn that even among insects and +flowers, those who do most for others receive most in return. The bee +and the flower do not reason about the matter; they only live their +little lives as nature guides them, helping and improving each other. + +I have been able to tell you but very little about the hidden work that +is going on around us, and you must not for a moment imagine that we +have fully explored the fairy land of nature. But at least we have +passed through the gates, and have learned that there is a world of +wonder which we may visit if we will. And it lies quite close to us, +hidden in every dewdrop and gust of wind, in every brook and valley, in +every little plant and animal. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 11: From "The Fairy Land of Nature," by Arabella B. Buckley.] + + EXPRESSION: Make a list of all the natural objects that are + mentioned in this selection. Read what is said of each. Describe as + many of them as you can in your own words. Tell what you have + observed about bees and flowers. The daisy that is referred to is + the true European daisy. The daisy, or whiteweed, of the United + States does not open and close in the manner here described. + + + + +SONG OF THE RIVER[12] + + + A river went singing a-down to the sea, + A-singing--low--singing-- + And the dim rippling river said softly to me, + "I'm bringing, a-bringing-- + While floating along-- + A beautiful song + To the shores that are white where the waves are so weary, + To the beach that is burdened with wrecks that are dreary. + + "A song sweet and calm + As the peacefullest psalm; + And the shore that was sad + Will be grateful and glad, + And the weariest wave from its dreariest dream + Will wake to the sound of the song of the stream; + And the tempests shall cease + And there shall be peace." + From the fairest of fountains + And farthest of mountains, + From the stillness of snow + Came the stream in its flow. + + Down the slopes where the rocks are gray, + Through the vales where the flowers are fair-- + + Where the sunlight flashed--where the shadows lay + Like stories that cloud a face of care, + The river ran on--and on--and on, + Day and night, and night and day. + Going and going, and never gone, + Longing to flow to the "far away." + Staying and staying, and never still,-- + Going and staying, as if one will + Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea," + And another will whispered, "Stay with me"-- + And the river made answer, soft and low, + "I go and stay--I stay and go." + + "But what is the song?" I said at last + To the passing river that never passed; + And a white, white wave whispered, "List to me, + I'm a note in the song for the beautiful sea, + A song whose grand accents no earth din may sever, + And the river flows on in the same mystic key + That blends in one chord the 'forever and never.'" + +[Footnote 12: By Abram J. Ryan, an American clergyman and poet.] + + EXPRESSION: Read aloud the three lines which introduce the song of + the river. Read them in such a manner as to call up a mental + picture of the river on its way to the sea. Read the first five + lines of the third stanza in a similar way, and tell what picture + is now called up in your mind. Now read the river's song. Read what + the white wave said. Read the whole poem with spirit and feeling. + + Notice the words "a-down," "a-singing," "a-bringing." What effect + is produced by the use of these unusual forms? + + + + +SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE[13] + + + Out of the hills of Habersham, + Down the valleys of Hall, + I hurry amain to reach the plain, + Run the rapid and leap the fall, + Split at the rock and together again, + Accept my bed or narrow or wide, + And flee from folly on every side + With a lover's pain to attain the plain + Far from the hills of Habersham, + Far from the valleys of Hall. + + All down the hills of Habersham, + All through the valleys of Hall, + The rushes cried, "Abide, abide," + The willful waterweeds held me thrall, + The loving laurel turned my tide, + The ferns and the fondling grass said, "Stay," + The dewberry dipped for to work delay, + And the little reeds sighed, "Abide, abide," + Here in the hills of Habersham, + Here in the valleys of Hall. + + High o'er the hills of Habersham, + Veiling the valleys of Hall, + The hickory told me manifold + Fair tales of shade; the poplar tall + Wrought me her shadowy self to hold; + The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, + Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, + Said, "Pass not so cold, these manifold + Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, + These glades in the valleys of Hall." + + And oft in the hills of Habersham, + And oft in the valleys of Hall, + The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook stone + Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl; + And many a luminous jewel lone + (Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist, + Ruby, garnet, or amethyst) + Made lures with the lights of streaming stone + In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, + In the beds of the valleys of Hall. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 13: By Sidney Lanier, an American musician and poet +(1842-1881). From the _Poems of Sidney Lanier_, published by Charles +Scribner's Sons.] + + EXPRESSION: Compare this poem with the one which precedes it. + Compare them both with Tennyson's "Song of the Brook" ("Fifth + Reader," p. 249). Which is the most musical? Which is the best + simply as a description? + + Make a list of the unusual words in this last poem, and refer to + the dictionary for their meaning. In what state is the + Chattahoochee River? "Habersham" and "Hall" are the names of two + counties in the same state. + + If you have access to a library, find Southey's poem, "The Cataract + of Lodore," and read it aloud. + + + + +WAR AND PEACE + + +I. WAR AS THE MOTHER OF VALOR AND CIVILIZATION[14] + +We still hear war extolled at times as the mother of valor and the prime +agency in the world's advancement. By it, we are told, civilization has +spread and nations have been created, slavery has been abolished and the +American Union preserved. It is even held that without war human +progress would have been impossible. + +The answer: Men were at first savages who preyed upon each other like +wild beasts, and so they developed a physical courage which they shared +with the brutes. Moral courage was unknown to them. War was almost their +sole occupation. Peace existed only for short periods that tribes might +regain strength to resume the sacred duty of killing each other. + +Advancement in civilization was impossible while war reigned. Only as +wars became less frequent and long intervals of peace supervened could +civilization, the mother of true heroism, take root. Civilization has +advanced just as war has receded, until in our day peace has become the +rule and war the exception. + +Arbitration of international disputes grows more and more in favor. +Successive generations of men now live and die without seeing war; and +instead of the army and navy furnishing the only careers worthy of +gentlemen, it is with difficulty that civilized nations can to-day +obtain a sufficient supply of either officers or men. + +In the past, man's only method for removing obstacles and attaining +desired ends was to use brute courage. The advance of civilization has +developed moral courage. We use more beneficent means than men did of +old. Britain in the eighteenth century used force to prevent American +independence. In more recent times she graciously grants Canada the +rights denied America. + +The United States also receives an award of the powers against China, +and, finding it in excess of her expenditures, in the spirit of newer +time, returns ten million dollars. Won by this act of justice, China +devotes the sum to the education of Chinese students in the republic's +universities. The greatest force is no longer that of brutal war, but +the supreme force of gentlemen and generosity--the golden rule. + +The pen is rapidly superseding the sword. Arbitration is banishing war. +More than five hundred international disputes have already been +peacefully settled. Civilization, not barbarism, is the mother of true +heroism. Our lately departed poet and disciple of peace, Richard Watson +Gilder, has left us the answer to the false idea that brute force +employed against our fellows ranks with heroic moral courage exerted to +save or serve them:-- + + 'Twas said: "When roll of drum and battle's roar + Shall cease upon the earth, oh, then no more + The deed, the race, of heroes in the land." + But scarce that word was breathed when one small hand + Lifted victorious o'er a giant wrong + That had its victims crushed through ages long; + Some woman set her pale and quivering face, + Firm as a rock, against a man's disgrace; + A little child suffered in silence lest + His savage pain should wound a mother's breast; + Some quiet scholar flung his gauntlet down + And risked, in Truth's great name, the synod's frown; + A civic hero, in the calm realm of laws, + Did that which suddenly drew a world's applause; + And one to the pest his lithe young body gave + That he a thousand thousand lives might save. + +On the field of carnage men lose all human instincts in the struggle to +protect themselves. The true heroism inspired by moral courage prompts +firemen, policemen, sailors, miners, and others to volunteer and risk +their lives to save the lives of their fellowmen. Such heroism is now of +everyday occurrence. + +In our age there is no more reason for permitting war between civilized +nations than for relaxing the reign of law within nations, which compels +men to submit their personal disputes to peaceful courts, and never +dreams that by so doing they will be made less heroic.... + +When war ceases, the sense of human brotherhood will be strengthened and +"heroism" will no longer mean to kill, but only to serve or save our +fellows. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 14: By Andrew Carnegie, a Scottish-American manufacturer and +philanthropist (1837- ).] + + +II. FRIENDSHIP AMONG NATIONS[15] + +Let us suppose that four centuries ago some far-seeing prophet dared to +predict to the duchies composing the kingdom of France that the day +would come when they would no longer make war upon each other. Let us +suppose him saying:-- + +"You will have many disputes to settle, interests to contend for, +difficulties to resolve; but do you know what you will select instead of +armed men, instead of cavalry, and infantry, of cannon, lances, pikes, +and swords? + +"You will select, instead of all this destructive array, a small box of +wood, which you will term a ballot-box, and from what shall issue--what? +An assembly--an assembly in which you shall all live; an assembly which +shall be, as it were, the soul of all; a supreme and popular council, +which shall decide, judge, resolve everything; which shall say to each, +'Here terminates your right, there commences your duty: lay down your +arms!' + +"And in that day you will all have one common thought, common interests, +a common destiny; you will embrace each other, and recognize each other +as children of the same blood and of the same race; that day you shall +no longer be hostile tribes--you will be a people; you will be no longer +merely Burgundy, Normandy, Brittany, Provence--you will be France! +You will no longer make appeals to war; you will do so to civilization." + +If, at that period I speak of, some one had uttered these words, all men +would have cried out: "What a dreamer! what a dream! How little this +pretended prophet is acquainted with the human heart!" Yet time has gone +on and on, and we find that this dream has been realized. + +Well, then, at this moment we who are assembled here say to France, to +England, to Spain, to Italy, to Russia: "A day will come, when from your +hands also the arms they have grasped shall fall. A day will come, when +war shall appear as impossible, and will be as impossible, between Paris +and London, between St. Petersburg and Berlin, as it is now between +Rouen and Amiens, between Boston and Philadelphia. + +"A day will come, when you, France; you, Russia; you, Italy; you, +England; you, Germany; all of you nations of the continent, shall, +without losing your distinctive qualities and your glorious +individuality, be blended into a superior unity, and shall constitute an +European fraternity, just as Normandy, Brittany, Burgundy, Lorraine, +have been blended into France. A day will come when the only battle +field shall be the market open to commerce, and the mind open to new +ideas. A day will come when bullets and shells shall be replaced by +votes, by the universal suffrage of nations, by the arbitration of a +great sovereign senate. + +Nor is it necessary for four hundred years to pass away for that day to +come. We live in a period in which a year often suffices to do the work +of a century. + +Suppose that the people of Europe, instead of mistrusting each other, +entertaining jealousy of each other, hating each other, become fast +friends; suppose they say that before they are French or English or +German they are men, and that if nations form countries, human kind +forms a family. Suppose that the enormous sums spent in maintaining +armies should be spent in acts of mutual confidence. Suppose that the +millions that are lavished on hatred, were bestowed on love, given to +peace instead of war, given to labor, to intelligence, to industry, to +commerce, to navigation, to agriculture, to science, to art. + +If this enormous sum were expended in this manner, know you what would +happen? The face of the world would be changed. Isthmuses would be cut +through. Railroads would cover the continents; the merchant navy of the +globe would be increased a hundredfold. There would be nowhere barren +plains nor moors nor marshes. Cities would be found where now there are +only deserts. Asia would be rescued to civilization; Africa would be +rescued to man; abundance would gush forth on every side, from every +vein of the earth at the touch of man, like the living stream from the +rock beneath the rod of Moses. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 15: By Victor Hugo, a celebrated French writer (1802-1885).] + + +III. SOLDIER, REST[16] + + Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, + Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; + Dream of battled fields no more, + Days of danger, nights of waking. + In our isle's enchanted hall, + Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, + Fairy strains of music fall, + Every sense in slumber dewing. + Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, + Dream of fighting fields no more; + Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, + Morn of toil nor night of waking. + + No rude sound shall reach thine ear, + Armor's clang, or war steed champing, + Trump nor pibroch summon here + Mustering clan or squadron tramping. + Yet the lark's shrill fife may come + At the daybreak from the fallow, + And the bittern sound his drum, + Booming from the sedgy shallow. + Ruder sounds shall none be near, + Guards nor warders challenge here, + Here's no war steed's neigh and champing, + Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 16: By Sir Walter Scott, a Scottish novelist and poet +(1771-1832).] + + +IV. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM[17] + + Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lowered, + And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; + And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, + The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. + + When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, + By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain; + At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, + And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. + + Methought from the battle field's dreadful array, + Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track; + 'Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way + To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. + + I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft + In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; + I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft, + And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung. + + Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore + From my home and my weeping friends never to part; + My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, + And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart. + + "Stay, stay with us--rest, thou art weary and worn;" + And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; + But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, + And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 17: By Thomas Campbell, a Scottish poet (1777-1844).] + + +V. HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE[18] + + 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 mold, + 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 Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, + To bless the turf that wraps their clay, + And Freedom shall awhile repair + To dwell a weeping hermit there. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 18: By William Collins, an English poet (1721-1759).] + + EXPRESSION: Which one of these three poems requires to be read with + most spirit and enthusiasm? Which is the most pathetic? Which is + the most musical? Which calls up the most pleasing mental pictures? + + Talk with your teacher about the three authors of these poems, and + learn all you can about their lives and writings. + + + + +EARLY TIMES IN NEW YORK.[19] + + +In those good old days of simplicity and sunshine, a passion for +cleanliness was the leading principle in domestic economy, and the +universal test of an able housewife. + +The front door was never opened, except for marriages, funerals, New +Year's Day, the festival of St. Nicholas, or some such great occasion. +It was ornamented with a gorgeous brass knocker, which was curiously +wrought,--sometimes in the device of a dog, and sometimes in that of a +lion's head,--and daily burnished with such religious zeal that it was +often worn out by the very precautions taken for its preservation. + +The whole house was constantly in a state of inundation, under the +discipline of mops and brooms and scrubbing brushes; and the good +housewives of those days were a kind of amphibious animal, delighting +exceedingly to be dabbling in water,--insomuch that an historian of the +day gravely tells us that many of his townswomen grew to have webbed +fingers, "like unto ducks." + +The grand parlor was the _sanctum sanctorum_, where the passion for +cleaning was indulged without control. No one was permitted to enter +this sacred apartment, except the mistress and her confidential maid, +who visited it once a week for the purpose of giving it a thorough +cleaning. On these occasions they always took the precaution of leaving +their shoes at the door, and entering devoutly in their stocking feet. + +After scrubbing the floor, sprinkling it with fine white sand,--which +was curiously stroked with a broom into angles and curves and +rhomboids,--after washing the windows, rubbing and polishing the +furniture, and putting a new branch of evergreens in the fireplace, the +windows were again closed to keep out the flies, and the room was kept +carefully locked, until the revolution of time brought round the weekly +cleaning day. + +As to the family, they always entered in at the gate, and generally +lived in the kitchen. To have seen a numerous household assembled round +the fire, one would have imagined that he was transported to those happy +days of primeval simplicity which float before our imaginations like +golden visions. + +The fireplaces were of a truly patriarchal magnitude, where the whole +family, old and young, master and servant, black and white,--nay, even +the very cat and dog,--enjoyed a community of privilege, and had each a +right to a corner. Here the old burgher would sit in perfect silence, +puffing his pipe, looking in the fire with half-shut eyes, and thinking +of nothing, for hours together; the good wife, on the opposite side, +would employ herself diligently in spinning yarn or knitting stockings. + +The young folks would crowd around the hearth, listening with breathless +attention to some old crone of a negro, who was the oracle of the +family, and who, perched like a raven in a corner of the chimney, would +croak forth, for a long winter afternoon, a string of incredible stories +about New England witches, grisly ghosts, and bloody encounters among +Indians. + +In those happy days, fashionable parties were generally confined to the +higher classes, or _noblesse_; that is to say, such as kept their own +cows, and drove their own wagons. The company usually assembled at three +o'clock, and went away about six, unless it was in winter time, when the +fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might reach +home before dark. + +The tea table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with +slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming in +gravy. The company seated round the genial board, evinced their +dexterity in launching their forks at the fattest pieces in this mighty +dish,--in much the same manner that sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, or +our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. + +Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple pies, or saucers full +of preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to boast an +enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat and called +doughnuts or _olykoeks_, a delicious kind of cake, at present little +known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families. + +The tea was served out of a majestic Delft teapot, ornamented with +paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending +pigs,--with boats sailing in the air, and houses built in the clouds, +and sundry other ingenious Dutch fancies. The beaux distinguished +themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot from a huge +copper teakettle. To sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid +beside each cup, and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with +great decorum; until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and +economic old lady, which was to suspend, by a string from the ceiling, a +large lump directly over the tea table, so that it could be swung from +mouth to mouth. + +At these primitive tea parties, the utmost propriety and dignity +prevailed,--no flirting nor coquetting; no romping of young ladies; no +self-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in +their pockets, nor amusing conceits and monkey divertisements of smart +young gentlemen, with no brains at all. + +On the contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in their +rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woolen stockings; nor ever +opened their lips, excepting to say "_Yah, Mynheer_," or "_Yah, yah, +Vrouw_," to any question that was asked them; behaving in all things +like decent, well-educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them +tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the blue +and white tiles with which the fireplaces were decorated; wherein sundry +passages of Scripture were piously portrayed. Tobit and his dog figured +to great advantage; Haman swung conspicuously on his gibbet; and Jonah +appeared most manfully leaping from the whale's mouth, like Harlequin +through a barrel of fire. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 19: From Diedrich Knickerbocker's, "History of New York," by +Washington Irving.] + + NOTES: More than two hundred and fifty years have passed since the + "good old days" described in this selection. New York in 1660 was a + small place. It was called New Amsterdam, and its inhabitants were + chiefly Dutch people from Holland. Knickerbocker's "History of New + York" gives a delightfully humorous account of those early times. + + The festival of St. Nicholas occurs on December 6, and with the + Dutch colonists was equivalent to our Christmas. + + WORD STUDY: _sanctum sanctorum_, a Latin expression meaning "holy + of holies," a most sacred place. + + _noblesse_, persons of high rank. + + _olykoeks_ (_[)o]l´ y cooks_), doughnuts, or crullers. + + _Mynheer_ (_m[=i]n h[=a]r´_), sir, Mr. + + _Vrouw_ (_vrou_), madam, lady. + + _Tobit_, a pious man of ancient times whose story is related in + "The Book of Tobit." + + _Haman_ (_ha´ man_), the prime minister of the king of Babylon, who + was hanged on a gibbet which he had prepared for another. See "The + Book of Esther." + + _Har´ le quin_, a clown well known in Italian comedy. + + Look in the dictionary for: _gorgeous_, _rhomboids_, _primeval_, + _patriarchal_, _burgher_, _crone_, _porpoises_, _beverage_, + _divertisements_. + + + + +A WINTER EVENING IN OLD NEW ENGLAND + + + Shut in from all the world without, + We sat the clean-winged hearth about, + Content to let the north wind roar + In baffled rage at pane and door, + While the red logs before us beat + The frost line back with tropic heat; + And ever, when a louder blast + Shook beam and rafter as it passed, + The merrier up its roaring draft + The great throat of the chimney laughed. + + The house dog on his paws outspread + Laid to the fire his drowsy head, + The cat's dark silhouette on the wall + A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; + And, for the winter fireside meet, + Between the andirons' straddling feet + The mug of cider simmered slow, + And apples sputtered in a row. + And, close at hand, the basket stood + With nuts from brown October's woods. + + What matter how the night behaved? + What matter how the north wind raved? + Blow high, blow low, not all its snow + Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. + +[Illustration: A Winter Evening in Old New England.] + + + + +THE OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING[20] + + +I do not know but it is that old New England holiday of Thanksgiving +which, for one of New England birth, has most of home associations tied +up with it, and most of gleeful memories. I know that they are very +present ones. + +We all knew when it was coming; we all loved turkey--not Turkey on the +map, for which we cared very little after we had once bounded it--by the +Black Sea on the east, and by something else on the other sides--but +basted turkey, brown turkey, stuffed turkey. Here was richness! + +We had scored off the days until we were sure, to a recitation mark, +when it was due--well into the end of November, when winds would be +blowing from the northwest, with great piles of dry leaves all down the +sides of the street and in the angles of pasture walls. + +I cannot for my life conceive why any one should upset the old order of +things by marking it down a fortnight earlier. A man in the country +wants his crops well in and housed before he is ready to gush out with a +round, outspoken Thanksgiving; but everybody knows, who knows anything +about it, that the purple tops and the cow-horn turnips are, nine times +in ten, left out till the latter days of November, and husking not half +over. + +We all knew, as I said, when it was coming. We had a stock of empty +flour barrels on Town-hill stuffed with leaves, and a big pole set in +the ground, and a battered tar barrel, with its bung chopped out, to put +on top of the pole. It was all to beat the last year's bonfire--and it +did. The country wagoners had made their little stoppages at the back +door. We knew what was to come of that. And if the old cook--a monstrous +fine woman, who weighed two hundred if she weighed a pound--was brusque +and wouldn't have us "round," we knew what was to come of that, too. +Such pies as hers demanded thoughtful consideration: not very large, and +baked in scalloped tins, and with such a relishy flavor to them, as on +my honor, I do not recognize in any pies of this generation.... + +The sermon on that Thanksgiving (and we all heard it) was long. We boys +were prepared for that too. But we couldn't treat a Thanksgiving sermon +as we would an ordinary one; we couldn't doze--there was too much ahead. +It seemed to me that the preacher made rather a merit of holding us in +check--with that basted turkey in waiting. At last, though, it came to +an end; and I believe Dick and I both joined in the doxology. + +All that followed is to me now a cloud of misty and joyful expectation, +until we took our places--a score or more of cousins and kinsfolk; and +the turkey, and celery, and cranberries, and what nots, were all in +place. + +Did Dick whisper to me as we went in, "Get next to me, old fellow"? + +I cannot say; I have a half recollection that he did. But bless me! what +did anybody care for what Dick said? + +And the old gentleman who bowed his head and said grace--there is no +forgetting him. And the little golden-haired one who sat at his +left--his pet, his idol--who lisped the thanksgiving after him, shall I +forget her, and the games of forfeit afterwards at evening that brought +her curls near to me? + +These fifty years she has been gone from sight, and is dust. What an +awful tide of Thanksgivings has drifted by since she bowed her golden +locks, and clasped her hand, and murmured, "Our Father, we thank thee +for this, and for all thy bounties!" + +Who else? Well, troops of cousins--good, bad, and indifferent. No man is +accountable for his cousins, I think; or if he is, the law should be +changed. If a man can't speak honestly of cousinhood, to the third or +fourth degree, what _can_ he speak honestly of? Didn't I see little Floy +(who wore pea-green silk) make a saucy grimace when I made a false cut +at that rolypoly turkey drumstick and landed it on the tablecloth? + +There was that scamp Tom, too, who loosened his waistcoat before he went +into dinner. I saw him do it. Didn't he make faces at me, till he caught +a warning from Aunt Polly's uplifted finger? + +[Illustration: A Thanksgiving Reunion.] + +How should I forget that good, kindly Aunt Polly--very severe in her +turban, and with her meeting-house face upon her, but full of a great +wealth of bonbons and dried fruits on Saturday afternoons, in I know not +what capacious pockets; ample, too, in her jokes and in her laugh; +making that day a great maelstrom of mirth around her? + +H---- sells hides now, and is as rich as Croesus, whatever that may +mean; but does he remember his venturesome foray for a little bit of +crisp roast pig that lay temptingly on the edge of the dish that day? + +There was Sarah, too,--turned of seventeen, education complete, looking +down on us all--terribly learned (I know for a fact that she kept Mrs. +Hemans in her pocket); terribly self-asserting, too. If she had not +married happily, and not had a little brood about her in after years +(which she did), I think she would have made one of the most terrible +Sorosians of our time. At least that is the way I think of it now, +looking back across the basted turkey (which she ate without gravy) and +across the range of eager Thanksgiving faces. + +There was Uncle Ned--no forgetting him--who had a way of patting a boy +on the head so that the patting reached clear through to the boy's +heart, and made him sure of a blessing hovering over. That was the +patting I liked. _That's_ the sort of uncle to come to a Thanksgiving +dinner--the sort that eat double filberts with you, and pay up next day +by noon with a pocketknife or a riding whip. Hurrah for Uncle Ned! + +And Aunt Eliza--is there any keeping her out of mind? I never liked the +name much; but the face and the kindliness which was always ready to +cover, as well as she might, what wrong we did, and to make clear what +good we did, make me enrol her now--where she belongs evermore--among +the saints. So quiet, so gentle, so winning, making conquest of all of +us, because she never sought it; full of dignity, yet never asserting +it; queening it over all by downright kindliness of heart. What a wife +she would have made! Heigho! how we loved her, and made our boyish love +of her--a Thanksgiving! + +Were there oranges? I think there were, with green spots on the +peel--lately arrived from Florida. Tom boasted that he ate four. I dare +say he told the truth--he looked peaked, and was a great deal the worse +for the dinner next day, I remember. + +Was there punch, or any strong liquors? No; so far as my recollection +now goes, there was none. + +Champagne? + +I have a faint remembrance of a loud pop or two which set some cousinly +curls over opposite me into a nervous shake. Yet I would not like to +speak positively. Good bottled cider or pop beer may possibly account +for all the special phenomena I call to mind. + +Was there coffee, and were there olives? Not to the best of my +recollection; or, if present, I lose them in the glamour of mince pies +and Marlborough puddings. + +How we ever sidled away from that board when that feast was done I have +no clear conception. I am firm in the belief that thanksgiving was said +at the end, as at the beginning. I have a faint recollection of a gray +head passing out at the door, and of a fleece of golden curls beside +him, against which I jostle--not unkindly. + +Dark? + +Yes; I think the sun had gone down about the time when the mince pies +had faded. + +Did Dick and Tom and the rest of us come sauntering in afterwards when +the rooms were empty, foraging for any little tidbits of the feast that +might be left, the tables showing only wreck under the dim light of a +solitary candle? + +How we found our way with the weight of that stupendous dinner by us to +the heights of Town-hill it is hard to tell. But we did, and when our +barrel pile was fairly ablaze, we danced like young satyrs round the +flame, shouting at our very loudest when the fire caught the tar barrel +at the top, and the yellow pile of blaze threw its lurid glare over hill +and houses and town. + +Afterwards I have recollection of an hour or more in a snug square +parlor, which is given over to us youngsters and our games, dimly +lighted, as was most fitting; but a fire upon the hearth flung out a red +glory on the floor and on the walls. + +Was it a high old time, or did we only pretend that it was? + +Didn't I know little Floy in that pea-green silk, with my hands clasped +round her waist and my eyes blinded--ever so fast? Didn't I give Dick an +awful pinch in the leg, when I lay _perdu_ under the sofa in another one +of those tremendous games? Didn't the door that led into the hall show a +little open gap from time to time--old faces peering in, looking very +kindly in the red firelight flaring on them? And didn't those we loved +best look oftenest? Don't they always? + +Well, well--we were fagged at last: little Floy in a snooze before we +knew it; Dick, pretending not to be sleepy, but gaping in a prodigious +way. But the romps and the fatigue made sleep very grateful when it came +at last: yet the sleep was very broken; the turkey and the nuts had +their rights, and bred stupendous Thanksgiving dreams. What gorgeous +dreams they were, to be sure! + +I seem to dream them again to-day. + +Once again I see the old, revered gray head bowing in utter +thankfulness, with the hands clasped. + +Once again, over the awful tide of intervening years--so full, and yet +so short--I seem to see the shimmer of _her_ golden hair--an aureole of +light blazing on the borders of boyhood: "_For this, and all thy +bounties, our Father, we thank thee._" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 20: From "Bound Together," by Donald G. Mitchell, published by +Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + + + +A THANKSGIVING[21] + + + Lord, thou hast given me a cell + Wherein to dwell-- + A little house, whose humble roof + Is weatherproof-- + Under the spans of which I lie + Both soft and dry, + Where thou, my chamber for to ward, + Hast set a guard + Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep + Me while I sleep. + + Low is my porch as is my fate-- + Both void of state-- + And yet the threshold of my door + Is worn by the poor + Who hither come, and freely get + Good words or meat. + + Like as my parlor, so my hall + And kitchen's small. + A little buttery, and therein + A little bin. + Which keeps my little loaf of bread + Unchipt, unfled. + + Some brittle sticks of thorn or brier + Make me a fire + Close by whose living coal I sit, + And glow like it. + Lord, I confess too, when I dine, + The pulse is thine, + And all those other bits that be + There placed by thee. + + 'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth + With guiltless mirth, + And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink, + Spiced to the brink. + Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand + That soils my land, + And giv'st me for my bushel sown + Twice ten for one. + + All these and better thou dost send + Me to this end,-- + That I should render for my part, + A thankful heart; + Which, fired with incense, I resign + As wholly thine-- + But the acceptance, that must be, + My God, by thee. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 21: By Robert Herrick, an English poet (1591-1674).] + + + + +FIRST DAYS AT WAKEFIELD[22] + + + _A proof that even the humblest fortune may grant happiness, which + depends not on circumstances but constitution._ + +The place of our retreat was in a little neighborhood consisting of +farmers, who tilled their own grounds, and were equal strangers to +opulence and poverty. As they had almost all the conveniences of life +within themselves, they seldom visited towns or cities in search of +superfluity. Remote from the polite, they still retained the primeval +simplicity of manners; and frugal by habit, they scarcely knew that +temperance was a virtue. + +They wrought with cheerfulness on days of labor; but observed festivals +as intervals of idleness and pleasure. They kept up the Christmas carol, +sent true love knots on Valentine morning, ate pancakes on Shrovetide, +showed their wit on the first of April, and religiously cracked nuts on +Michaelmas Eve. + +Being apprised of our approach, the whole neighborhood came out to meet +their minister, dressed in their finest clothes, and preceded by a pipe +and tabor. A feast also was provided for our reception, at which we sat +cheerfully down; and what the conversation wanted in wit was made up in +laughter. + +Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a slopping bill, +sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river +before; on one side a meadow, on the other a green. My farm consisted of +about twenty acres of excellent land, having given a hundred pounds for +my predecessor's goodwill. Nothing could exceed the neatness of my +little inclosures, the elms and hedgerows appearing with inexpressible +beauty. + +My house consisted of but one story, and was covered with thatch, which +gave it an air of great snugness; the walls on the inside were nicely +whitewashed, and my daughters undertook to adorn them with pictures of +their own designing. Though the same room served us for parlor and +kitchen, that only made it the warmer. Besides, as it was kept with the +utmost neatness, the dishes, plates, and coppers being well scoured, and +all disposed in bright rows on the shelves, the eye was agreeably +relieved, and did not want richer furniture. There were three other +apartments,--one for my wife and me, another for our two daughters, and +the third, with two beds, for the rest of the children. + +The little republic to which I gave laws was regulated in the following +manner: by sunrise we all assembled in our common apartment, the fire +being previously kindled by the servant. After we had saluted each other +with proper ceremony--for I always thought fit to keep up some +mechanical forms of good breeding, without which freedom ever destroys +friendship--we all bent in gratitude to that Being who gave us another +day. + +This duty being performed, my son and I went to pursue our usual +industry abroad, while my wife and daughters employed themselves in +providing breakfast, which was always ready at a certain time. I allowed +half an hour for this meal and an hour for dinner, which time was taken +up in innocent mirth between my wife and daughters, and in philosophical +arguments between my son and me. + +As we rose with the sun, so we never pursued our labors after it was +gone down, but returned home to the expecting family, where smiling +looks, a neat hearth, and pleasant fire were prepared for our reception. +Nor were we without guests: sometimes Farmer Flamborough, our talkative +neighbor, and often the blind piper would pay us a visit, and taste our +gooseberry wine, for the making of which we had lost neither the receipt +nor the reputation. + +The night was concluded in the manner we began the morning, my youngest +boys being appointed to read the lessons of the day, and he that read +loudest, distinctest and best was to have a halfpenny on Sunday to put +in the poor's box. + +When Sunday came it was indeed a day of finery, which all my sumptuary +edicts could not restrain. How well soever I fancied my lectures against +pride had conquered the vanity of my daughters, yet I still found them +secretly attached to all their former finery; they still loved laces, +ribbons, bugles, and catgut; my wife herself retained a passion for her +crimson paduasoy, because I formerly happened to say it became her. + +[Illustration: The First Sunday at Wakefield.] + +The first Sunday in particular their behavior served to mortify me; I +had desired my girls the preceding night to be dressed early the next +day; for I always loved to be at church a good while before the rest of +the congregation. They punctually obeyed my directions; but when we were +to assemble in the morning at breakfast, down came my wife and daughters +dressed out all in their former splendor; their hair plastered up with +pomatum, their faces patched to taste, their trains bundled up in a heap +behind, and rustling at every motion. + +I could not help smiling at their vanity, particularly that of my wife, +from whom I expected more discretion. In this exigence, therefore, my +only resource was to order my son, with an important air, to call our +coach. The girls were amazed at the command; but I repeated it with more +solemnity than before. + +"Surely, my dear, you jest," cried my wife; "we can walk it perfectly +well; we want no coach to carry us now." + +"You mistake, child," returned I, "we do want a coach; for if we walk to +church in this trim, the very children in the parish will hoot after +us." + +"Indeed," replied my wife, "I always imagined that my Charles was fond +of seeing his children neat and handsome about him." + +"You may be as neat as you please," interrupted I, "and I shall love you +the better for it; but all this is not neatness, but frippery. These +rufflings and pinkings and patchings will only make us hated by all the +wives of all our neighbors. No, my children," continued I, more gravely, +"those gowns may be altered into something of a plainer cut; for finery +is very unbecoming in us, who want the means of decency. I do not know +whether such flouncing and shredding is becoming even in the rich, if we +consider, upon a moderate calculation, that the nakedness of the +indigent world may be clothed from the trimmings of the vain." + +This remonstrance had the proper effect; they went with great composure, +that very instant, to change their dress; and the next day I had the +satisfaction of finding my daughters, at their own request, employed in +cutting up their trains into Sunday waistcoats for Dick and Bill, the +two little ones; and what was still more satisfactory, the gowns seemed +improved by this curtailing. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 22: From "The Vicar of Wakefield," by Oliver Goldsmith, a +celebrated English author (1728-1774).] + + EXPRESSION: In this selection and the two which follow we have + three other specimens of English prose fiction. You will observe + that they are very different in style, as well as in subject, from + the three specimens at the beginning of this book. Compare them + with one another. Reread the selections from Dickens, Thackeray, + and George Eliot, and compare them with these. Which do you like + best? Why? + + + + +DOUBTING CASTLE[23] + + +I. THE PILGRIMS LOSE THEIR WAY + +Now I beheld in my dream that Christian and Hopeful had not journeyed +far until they came where the river and the way parted, at which they +were not a little sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the +way from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their +travel; so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of +the way. Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for a better way. + +Now, a little before them, there was in the left hand of the road a +meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called +By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, "If this meadow lieth +along by our wayside, let us go over into it." Then he went to the stile +to see, and behold a path lay along by the way on the other side of the +fence. + +"'Tis according to my wish," said Christian; "here is the easiest going; +come, good Hopeful, and let us go over." + +"But how if this path should lead us out of the way?" + +"_That_ is not likely," said the other. "Look, doth it not go along by +the wayside?" + +So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the +stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found +it very easy for their feet; and withal they, looking before them, +espied a man walking as they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence: so +they called after him, and asked him whither that way led. + +He said, "To the Celestial Gate." + +"Look," said Christian, "did not I tell you so?--by this you may see we +are right." + +So they followed, and he went before them. But, behold, the night came +on, and it grew very dark; so that they who were behind lost sight of +them that went before. He, therefore, that went before--Vain-Confidence +by name--not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, and was +dashed in pieces with his fall. + +Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall; so they called to know the +matter. But there was none to answer, only they heard a groan. + +Then said Hopeful, "Where are we now?" + +Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of +the way; and now it began to rain and thunder and lightning in a most +dreadful manner, and the water rose amain, by reason of which the way of +going back was very dangerous. + +Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark and the flood so +high, that in their going back they had like to have been drowned nine +or ten times. Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get back +again to the stile that night. Wherefore, at last lighting under a +little shelter, they sat down there until daybreak. But, being weary, +they fell asleep. + +[Illustration: In the Giant's Dungeon.] + + +II. IN THE GIANT'S DUNGEON + +Now there was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called +Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair; and it was in his +grounds they now were sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up in the morning +early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and +Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice, he bid +them awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his +grounds. + +They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. + +Then said the giant, "You have this night trespassed on me, by trampling +in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me." + +So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also +had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The giant, +therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, in a +very dark dungeon. + +Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without +one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they +did: they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends +and acquaintance. + +Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So, when he +was gone to bed, he told his wife that he had taken a couple of +prisoners, and had cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his +grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best do to them. So she +asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound; +and he told her. Then she counseled him, that when he arose in the +morning he should beat them without mercy. + +So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and goes +into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if +they were dogs, although they never gave him an unpleasant word. Then he +fell upon them, and beat them fearfully, in such sort that they were not +able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done he +withdraws, and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn +under their distress. So all that day they spent their time in nothing +but sighs and bitter lamentations. + +The next night she, talking with her husband further about them, and +understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them +to make away with themselves. So, when morning was come, he goes to them +in a surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with +the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them that, +since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way +would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, +halter, or poison: "for why," he said, "should you choose to live, +seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?" + +But they desired him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, +and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, but +that he fell into one of his fits, and lost for a time the use of his +hands. Wherefore he withdrew, and left them, as before, to consider what +to do. + +Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best +to take his counsel or no. But they soon resolved to reject it; for it +would be very wicked to kill themselves; and, besides, something might +soon happen to enable them to make their escape. + +Well, towards evening the giant goes down to the dungeon again, to see +if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there, he found +them alive. I say, he found them alive; at which he fell into a grievous +rage, and told them that, seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it +should be worse with them than if they had never been born. + +At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a +swoon; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their +discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take +it or no. Now Christian again seemed for doing it, but Hopeful reminded +him of the hardships and terrors he had already gone through, and said +that they ought to bear up with patience as well as they could, and +steadily reject the giant's wicked counsel. + +Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, +she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his +counsel. To this he replied, "They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather +to bear all hardships than to make away themselves." + +Then said she, "Take them into the castle yard to-morrow, and show them +the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched, and +make them believe, thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done +their fellows before them." + +So when morning has come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them +into the castle yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. +"These," said he, "were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed +on my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in +pieces; and so within ten days I will do to you. Get you down to your +den again." + +And with that he beat them all the way thither. + +Now, when night was come, Mrs. Diffidence and her husband began to renew +their discourse of their prisoners. The old giant wondered that he could +neither by his blows nor by his counsel bring them to an end. + +And with that his wife replied, "I fear," said she, "that they live in +hopes that some will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks +about them, by the means of which they hope to escape." + +"And sayest thou so, my dear?" said the giant; "I will therefore search +them in the morning." + +Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in +prayer till almost break of day. + +Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, +brake out into a passionate speech: "What a fool am I, thus to lie in a +dungeon! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am +persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle." + +Then said Hopeful, "That's good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy +bosom and try." + +Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the +dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door +flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. + +After that, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too, but +that lock went desperately hard; yet the key did open it. Then they +thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed; but that gate, as +it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, +hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his +fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then +they went on, and came to the King's highway, again, and so were safe. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 23: From "The Pilgrim's Progress," by John Bunyan, a famous +English preacher and writer (1628-1688).] + + EXPRESSION: What peculiarities do you observe in Bunyan's style of + writing? Select the three most striking passages in this story, and + read them with spirit and correct expression. + + + + +SHOOTING WITH THE LONGBOW[24] + + +Proclamation was made that Prince John, suddenly called by high and +peremptory public duties, held himself obliged to discontinue the +entertainments of to-morrow's festival: nevertheless, that, unwilling so +many good yeomen should depart without a trial of skill, he was pleased +to appoint them, before leaving the ground, presently to execute the +competition of archery intended for the morrow. To the best archer a +prize was to be awarded, being a bugle-horn, mounted with silver, and a +silken baldric richly ornamented with a medallion of St. Hubert, the +patron of sylvan sport. + +More than thirty yeomen at first presented themselves as competitors, +several of whom were rangers and underkeepers in the royal forests of +Needwood and Charnwood. When, however, the archers understood with whom +they were to be matched, upwards of twenty withdrew themselves from the +contest, unwilling to encounter the dishonor of almost certain defeat. + +The diminished list of competitors for sylvan fame still amounted to +eight. Prince John stepped from his royal seat to view more nearly the +persons of these chosen yeomen, several of whom wore the royal livery. +Having satisfied his curiosity by this investigation, he looked for the +object of his resentment, whom he observed standing on the same spot, +and with the same composed countenance which he had exhibited upon the +preceding day. + +"Fellow," said Prince John, "I guessed by thy insolent babble thou wert +no true lover of the longbow, and I see thou darest not adventure thy +skill among such merry men as stand yonder." + +"Under favor, sir," replied the yeoman, "I have another reason for +refraining to shoot, besides the fearing discomfiture and disgrace." + +"And what is thy other reason?" said Prince John, who, for some cause +which perhaps he could not himself have explained, felt a painful +curiosity respecting this individual. + +"Because," replied the woodsman, "I know not if these yeomen and I are +used to shoot at the same marks; and because, moreover, I know not how +your grace might relish the winning of a third prize by one who has +unwittingly fallen under your displeasure." + +Prince John colored as he put the question, "What is thy name, yeoman?" + +"Locksley," answered the yeoman. + +"Then, Locksley," said Prince John, "thou shalt shoot in thy turn, when +these yeomen have displayed their skill. If thou carriest the prize, I +will add to it twenty nobles; but if thou losest it, thou shalt be +stripped of thy Lincoln green, and scourged out of the lists with +bowstrings, for a wordy and insolent braggart." + +"And how if I refuse to shoot on such a wager?" said the yeoman. "Your +grace's power, supported, as it is, by so many men at arms, may indeed +easily strip and scourge me, but cannot compel me to bend or to draw my +bow." + +"If thou refusest my fair proffer," said the prince, "the provost of the +lists shall cut thy bowstring, break thy bow and arrows, and expel thee +from the presence as a faint-hearted craven." + +"This is no fair chance you put on me, proud prince," said the yeoman, +"to compel me to peril myself against the best archers of Leicester and +Staffordshire, under the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me. +Nevertheless, I will obey your pleasure." + +"Look to him close, men at arms," said Prince John, "his heart is +sinking; I am jealous lest he attempt to escape the trial. And do you, +good fellows, shoot boldly round; a buck and a butt of wine are ready +for your refreshment in yonder tent, when the prize is won." + +A target was placed at the upper end of the southern avenue which led to +the lists. The contending archers took their station in turn, at the +bottom of the southern access; the distance between that station and the +mark allowing full distance for what was called a "shot at rovers." The +archers, having previously determined by lot their order of precedence, +were to shoot each three shafts in succession. The sports were regulated +by an officer of inferior rank, termed the provost of the games; for the +high rank of the marshals of the lists would have been held degraded had +they condescended to superintend the sports of the yeomanry. + +One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts +yeomanlike and bravely. Of twenty-four arrows shot in succession, ten +were fixed in the target, and the others ranged so near it that, +considering the distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery. + +Of the ten shafts which hit the target, two within the inner ring were +shot by Hubert, a forester, who was accordingly pronounced victorious. + +"Now, Locksley," said Prince John to the bold yeoman, with a bitter +smile, "wilt thou try conclusions with Hubert, or wilt thou yield up +bow, baldric, and quiver to the provost of the sports?" + +"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 longbow at Hastings, and I trust not to dishonor his memory." + +The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size +placed in its room. Hubert, who, as victor in the first trial of skill, +had the right to shoot first, 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 center of grasping place was nigh level with his face, he drew +the bowstring to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air, and +lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the +center. + +"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 instant that the shaft left the bowstring, +yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which +marked the center 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!" + +Hubert had but one set of speech for all occasions. "An your highness +were to hang me," he said, "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, not neglecting the caution +which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary +allowance for a very light breath of wind which had just arisen, and +shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very center of the +target. + +"A Hubert! a Hubert!" shouted the populace, more interested in a known +person than in a stranger. "In the clout!--in the clout! A Hubert +forever!" + +"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. +The people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful +dexterity, that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their +usual clamor. + +"This must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood," whispered the +yeomen to each other; "such archery was never seen since a bow was first +bent in Britain!" + +"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 to 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." + +Prince John made a signal that some attendants should follow him, in +case of his escape; but the cry of "Shame! shame!" which burst from the +multitude induced him to alter his ungenerous purpose. + +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 with great composure, observing, at the same time, +that to ask a good woodsman to shoot at a target so broad as had +hitherto been used was to put shame upon his skill. + +"For my own part," said he, "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 might hit yonder target with a headless +shaft; but," he added, walking deliberately to the other end of the +lists and sticking the willow wand upright in the ground, "he that hits +that rod at fivescore yards, I call him an archer fit to bear both bow +and quiver before a king, and it were the stout King Richard himself!" + +"My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings, +and never shot at such a mark in his life; 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 the edge of our parson's whittle, or at a wheat +straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can +hardly see." + +"Cowardly dog!" exclaimed 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. However it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of +superior skill." + +"'A man can but do his best!' as Hubert says," answered Locksley. + +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 bodyguard, 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. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 24: From "Ivanhoe," by Sir Walter Scott.] + + EXPRESSION: Compare this selection with the two which precede it. + "Pilgrim's Progress," "The Vicar of Wakefield," and "Ivanhoe" rank + high among the world's most famous books. Notice how long ago each + was written. Talk with your teacher about Bunyan, Goldsmith, and + Scott--their lives and their writings. + + + + +A CHRISTMAS HYMN[25] + + + 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. + +[Illustration] + + '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? + +[Illustration] + + 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 paused--for naught + Told what was going on within; + How keen the stars, his only thought,-- + The air how cold and calm and thin, + In the solemn midnight, + Centuries ago! + + Oh, 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 forever! + To that still moment none would heed + Man's doom was linked no more to sever, + In the solemn midnight, + Centuries ago. + +[Illustration] + + 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, newborn, + The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven, + In the solemn midnight, + Centuries ago. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 25: By Alfred Domett, (d[)o]m´et), an English writer +(1811-1887).] + + + + +CHRISTMAS EVE AT FEZZIWIG'S[26] + + +Old Fezziwig in his warehouse laid down his pen, and looked up at the +clock which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted +his waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ of +benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial +voice:-- + +"Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!" + +Ebenezer came briskly in, followed by his fellow-'prentice. + +"Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night. Christmas Eve, +Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up," cried old +Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack +Robinson." + +You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged into +the street with the shutters--one, two, three--had 'em in their +places--four, five, six--barred 'em and pinned 'em--seven, eight, +nine--and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like +race horses. + +"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from his desk, with +wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room +here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!" + +Clear away? There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or +couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in +a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from +public life forevermore. The floor was swept and watered, the lamps were +trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug +and warm, and dry and bright, as any ballroom you would desire to see +upon a winter's night. + +In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk, and +made an orchestra of it. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial +smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came +the six young followers, whose hearts they broke. In came all the young +men and young women employed in the business. In came the housemaid, +with her cousin the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's +particular friend the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who +was suspected of not having enough to eat from his master. In they all +came, one after another--some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some +awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling. In they all came, anyhow and +everyhow. + +Away they all went, twenty couples at once; down the middle and up +again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old +top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting +off again as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a +bottom one to help them! + +When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to +stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" Then there were more dances, and +there were forfeits, and more dances; and there was cake, and there was +a great piece of cold roast, and there was a great piece of cold boiled, +and there were mince pies and other delicacies. But the great effect of +the evening came after the roast and the boiled, when the fiddler, +artful dog, struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Mr. Fezziwig +stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good +stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of +partners; people who were not to be trifled with--people who _would_ +dance, and had no notion of walking. + +But if they had been twice as many--aye, four times--old Mr. Fezziwig +would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to +_her_, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If +that's not high praise, tell me higher and I'll use it.... And when Mr. +Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance--advance and +retire, both hands to your partner, bow and curtsy, thread the needle, +and back to your place--Fezziwig "cut" so deftly that he appeared to +wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again without a stagger. + +[Illustration: Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's.] + +When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. +Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and +shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, +wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the +two apprentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices +died away and the lads were left to their beds--which were under a +counter in the back shop. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 26: From "A Christmas Carol," by Charles Dickens.] + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS HOLLY[27] + + + The holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay-- + Come give the holly a song; + For it helps to drive stern winter away, + With his garment so somber and long; + It peeps through the trees with its berries of red, + And its leaves of burnished green, + When the flowers and fruits have long been dead, + And not even the daisy is seen. + Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, + That hangs over peasant and king; + While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glittering boughs, + To the Christmas holly we'll sing. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 27: By Eliza Cook, an English poet (1818-1889).] + + EXPRESSION: Imagine that you see Mr. Fezziwig with his apprentices + preparing for the Christmas festivities. What is your opinion of + him? Now read the story, paragraph by paragraph, trying to make it + as interesting to your hearers as a real visit to Fezziwig + warehouse would have been. + + + + +THE NEW YEAR'S DINNER PARTY[28] + + +The Old Year being dead, the New Year came of age, which he does by +Calendar Law as soon as the breath is out of the old gentleman's body. +Nothing would serve the youth but he must give a dinner upon the +occasion, to which all the Days of the Year were invited. + +The Festivals, whom he appointed as his stewards, were mightily taken +with the notion. They had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in +providing mirth and cheer for mortals below; and it was time that they +should have a taste of their bounty. + +All the Days came to dinner. Covers were provided for three hundred and +sixty-five guests at the principal table; with an occasional knife and +fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February. + +I should have told you that cards of invitation had been sent out. The +carriers were the Hours--twelve as merry little whirligig footpages as +you should desire to see. They went all round, and found out the persons +invited well enough, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, +and a few such Movables, who had lately shifted their quarters. + +Well, they were all met at last, four Days, five Days, all sorts of +Days, and a rare din they made of it. There was nothing but "Hail! +fellow Day!" "Well met, brother Day! sister Day!" only Lady Day kept a +little on the aloof and seemed somewhat scornful. Yet some said that +Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came in a silk suit, white and gold, +like a queen on a frost-cake, all royal and glittering. + +The rest came, some in green, some in white--but Lent and his family +were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days came in dripping, and Sunshiny +Days helped them to change their stockings. Wedding Day was there in his +marriage finery. Pay Day came late, as he always does. Doomsday sent +word he might be expected. + +April Fool (as my lord's jester) took upon himself to marshal the +guests. And wild work he made of it; good Days, bad Days, all were +shuffled together. He had stuck the Twenty-first of June next to the +Twenty-second of December, and the former looked like a Maypole by the +side of a marrow bone. Ash Wednesday got wedged in betwixt Christmas and +Lord Mayor's Day. + +At another part of the table, Shrove Tuesday was helping the Second of +September to some broth, which courtesy the latter returned with the +delicate thigh of a pheasant. The Last of Lent was springing upon +Shrovetide's pancakes; April Fool, seeing this, told him that he did +well, for pancakes were proper to a good fry-day. + +May Day, with that sweetness which is her own, made a neat speech +proposing the health of the founder. This being done, the lordly New +Year from the upper end of the table, in a cordial but somewhat lofty +tone, returned thanks. + +They next fell to quibbles and conundrums. The question being proposed, +who had the greatest number of followers--the Quarter Days said there +could be no question as to that; for they had all the creditors in the +world dogging their heels. But April Fool gave it in favor of the Forty +Days before Easter; because the debtors in all cases outnumbered the +creditors, and they kept Lent all the year. + +At last, dinner being ended, the Days called for their cloaks, and great +coats, and took their leaves. Lord Mayor's Day went off in a Mist as +usual; Shortest Day in a deep black Fog, which wrapped the little +gentleman all round like a hedgehog. + +Two Vigils, or watchmen, saw Christmas Day safe home. Another Vigil--a +stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve of St. Christopher--escorted Ash +Wednesday. + +Longest Day set off westward in beautiful crimson and gold--the rest, +some in one fashion, some in another, took their departure. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 28: By Charles Lamb, an English essayist and humorist +(1775-1834).] + + EXPRESSION: What holidays are named in this selection? What + holidays do you know about that were not present at this dinner? + Refer to the dictionary and learn about all the days here + mentioned. Select the humorous passages in this story, and tell why + you think they are humorous. + + + + +THE TOWN PUMP[29] + + +[SCENE.--_The corner of two principal streets. The Town Pump talking +through its nose._] + +Noon, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too, by those +hot sunbeams which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head, and almost make +the water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public +characters have a tough time of it! And among all the town officers, +chosen at the annual meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single +year, the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed in perpetuity, +upon the Town Pump? + +The title of town treasurer is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best +treasure the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to make me their +chairman since I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to +him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire department, and one of +the physicians of the board of health. As a keeper of the peace all +water drinkers confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the +duties of the town clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they am +pasted on my front. + +To speak within bounds, I am chief person of the municipality, and +exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my brother officers by the +cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my +business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or +winter, nobody seeks me in vain; for, all day long I am seen at the +busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich +and poor alike; and at night I hold a lantern over my head, to show +where I am, and to keep people out of the gutters. + +At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for +whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram seller +on the public square, on a muster day, I cry aloud to all and sundry, in +my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice, "Here it is, +gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk +up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale +of father Adam! better than cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong beer, or +wine of any price; here it is by the hogshead or the single glass, and +not a cent to pay. Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves!" + +It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they +come. A hot day, gentlemen. Quaff and away again, so as to keep +yourselves in a nice, cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another +cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as +it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of +miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and +stopped at the running brooks and well curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat +without and fire within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or +melted down to nothing at all--in the fashion of a jellyfish. + +Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench +the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup +of mine. Welcome, most rubicund sir! You and I have been strangers +hitherto; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a +closer intimacy till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent. + +Mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet, +and is converted quite into steam in the miniature Tophet, which you +mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an honest +toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any other kind of dramshop, +spend the price of your children's food for a swig half so delicious? +Now, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavor of cold +water. Good-by; and whenever you are thirsty, recollect that I keep a +constant supply at the old stand. + +Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are just let loose from school, and +come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain +taps of the ferule, and other schoolboy troubles, in a draft from the +Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life; take it, and +may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than +now. + +[Illustration: The Town Pump.] + +There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your place to this +elderly gentleman, who treads so tenderly over the paving stones that I +suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! he limps by without so much +as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers were meant only for people +who have no wine cellars. + +Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope! Go, draw the cork, tip the +decanter; but when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be no +affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillation of the gout, +it is all one to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue +lolling out, does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind legs +and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away +again! Jowler, did your worship ever have the gout? + +Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my stream of eloquence, and +spout forth a stream of water, to replenish the trough for this teamster +and his two yoke of oxen, who have come all the way from Staunton, or +somewhere along that way. No part of my business gives me more pleasure +than the watering of cattle. Look! how rapidly they lower the watermark +on the sides of the trough, till their capacious stomachs are moistened +with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afford time to breathe, with +sighs of calm enjoyment! Now they roll their quiet eyes around the brim +of their monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper. + +I hold myself the grand reformer of the age. From the Town Pump, as from +other sources of water supply, must flow the stream that will cleanse +our earth of a vast portion of the crime and anguish which have gushed +from the fiery fountains of the still. In this mighty enterprise, the +cow shall be my great confederate. Milk and water! + +Ahem! Dry work this speechifying, especially to all unpracticed orators. +I never conceived, till now, what toil the temperance lecturers undergo +for my sake. Do, some kind Christian, pump a stroke or two, just to wet +my whistle. Thank you, sir. But to proceed. + +The Town Pump and the Cow! Such is the glorious partnership that shall +finally monopolize the whole business of quenching thirst. Blessed +consummation! Then Poverty shall pass away from the land, finding no +hovel so wretched where her squalid form may shelter itself. Then +Disease, for lack of other victims, shall gnaw his own heart and die. +Then Sin, if she do not die, shall lose half her strength. + +Then there will be no war of households. The husband and the wife, +drinking deep of peaceful joy, a calm bliss of temperate affections, +shall pass hand in hand through life, and lie down, not reluctantly, at +its protracted close. To them the past will be no turmoil of mad dreams, +nor the future an eternity of such moments as follow the delirium of a +drunkard. Their dead faces shall express what their spirits were, and +are to be, by a lingering smile of memory and hope. + +Drink, then, and be refreshed! The water is as pure and cold as when it +slaked the thirst of the red hunter, and flowed beneath the aged bough, +though now this gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hot +stones, where no shadow falls but from the brick buildings. But still is +this fountain the source of health, peace, and happiness, and I behold, +with certainty and joy, the approach of the period when the virtues of +cold water, too little valued since our father's days, will be fully +appreciated and recognized by all. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 29: By Nathaniel Hawthorne, an American writer of romances and +short stories (1804-1864).] + + EXPRESSION: Read this selection again and again until you + understand it clearly and appreciate its rare charm. Study each + paragraph separately, observing how the topic of each is developed. + Select the expressions which are the most pleasing to you. Tell why + each pleases. + + Did you ever see a town pump? In the cities and larger towns, what + has taken its place? Can we imagine a hydrant or a water faucet + talking as this town pump did? If Hawthorne were writing to-day, + would he represent the town pump as the "chief person of the + municipality"? Discuss this question fully. + + Talk with your teacher about the life and works of the author of + this selection. If you have access to any of his books, bring them + to the class and read selections from them. Compare the style of + this story with that of the selection from Dickens, page 22; or + from Thackeray, page 27; or from Goldsmith, page 94. + + WORD STUDY: Refer to the dictionary for the pronunciation and + meaning of: _perpetuity_, _constable_, _municipality_, _cognac_, + _quaff_, _rubicund_, _Tophet_, _decanter_, _titillation_, + _capacious_. + + + + +COME UP FROM THE FIELDS, FATHER[30] + + + Come up from the fields, father; here's a letter from our Pete, + And come to the front door, mother; here's a letter from thy dear son. + Lo, 'tis autumn; + Lo, where the fields, deeper green, yellower and redder, + Cool and sweeten Ohio's villages, with leaves fluttering in the moderate + wind; + + Where apples ripe in the orchards hang, and grapes on the trellised + vines, + (Smell you the smell of the grapes on the vines? + Smell you the buckwheat, where the bees were lately buzzing?) + Above all, lo! the sky so calm, so transparent after the rain, and with + wondrous clouds; + Below, too, all calm, all vital and beautiful,--and the farm prospers + well. + + Down in the fields all prospers well; + But now from the fields come, father,--come at the daughter's call; + And come to the entry, mother,--to the front door come, right away. + Fast as she can she hurries,--something ominous,--her steps trembling; + She does not tarry to smooth her white hair, nor adjust her cap. + + Open the envelope quickly; + Oh, this is not our son's writing, yet his name is signed! + Oh, a strange hand writes for our dear son--O stricken mother's soul! + All swims before her eyes,--flashes with black,--she catches the main + words only; + Sentences broken,--_gunshot wound in the breast_--_cavalry skirmish, + taken to hospital, + At present low, but will soon be better._ + + Ah! now the single figure to me + Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio, with all its cities and farms, + Sickly white in the face and dull in the head, very faint, + By the jamb of a door leans. + + _Grieve not so, dear mother_ (the just grown daughter speaks through her + sobs; + The little sisters huddle around, speechless and dismayed). + _See, dearest mother, the letter says Pete will soon be better._ + Alas, poor boy! he will never be better (nor, maybe, needs to be better, + that brave and simple soul). + While they stand at home at the door he is dead already, + The only son is dead. + +[Illustration: "Come up from the fields, father."] + + But the mother needs to be better; + She, with thin form, presently dressed in black; + By day her meals untouched,--then at night fitfully sleeping, often + waking, + In the midnight waking, weeping, longing with one deep longing, + Oh, that she might withdraw unnoticed, silent from life, escape and + withdraw, + To follow, to seek, to be with her dear dead son! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 30: By Walt Whitman, an American poet (1819-1892).] + + EXPRESSION: This poem is descriptive of an incident which occurred + during the Civil War. There were many such incidents, both in the + North and in the South. Read the selection silently to understand + its full meaning. Who are the persons pictured to your imagination + after reading it? Describe the place and the time. + + Now read the poem aloud, giving full expression to its pathetic + meaning. Select the most striking descriptive passage and read it. + Select the stanza which seems to you the most touching, and read + it. + + Study now the peculiarities of the poem. Do the lines rime? Are + they of similar length? What can you say about the meter? + + Compare this poem with the two gems from Browning, pages 38 and 41. + Compare it with the selection from Longfellow, page 54; with that + from Lanier, page 66. How does it differ from any or all of these? + What is poetry? Name three great American poets; three great + English poets. + + + + +THE ADDRESS AT GETTYSBURG[31] + + +Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this +continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the +proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a +great civil war, testing whether that nation--or any nation so conceived +and so dedicated--can long endure. + +We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate +a portion of that field as the final resting place for those who here +gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting +and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot +dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave +men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above +our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long +remember what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here. + +It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished +work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is +rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before +us;--that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that +cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion;--that we +here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that +this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that +government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not +perish from the earth. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 31: By Abraham Lincoln, at the dedication of the National +Cemetery, 1863.] + + + + +ODE TO THE CONFEDERATE DEAD[32] + + + Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, + Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause; + Though yet no marble column craves + The pilgrim here to pause. + + In seeds of laurel in the earth + The blossom of your fame is blown, + And somewhere, waiting for its birth, + The shaft is in the stone. + + Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years + Which keep in trust your storied tombs, + Behold! Your sisters bring their tears + And these memorial blooms. + + Small tribute! but your shades will smile + More proudly on these wreathes to-day, + Than when some cannon-molded pile + Shall overlook this bay. + + Stoop, angels, hither from the skies! + There is no holier spot of ground + Than where defeated valor lies, + By mourning beauty crowned. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 32: By Henry Timrod, an American poet (1829-1867).] + + + + +THE CHARIOT RACE[33] + + +Orestes? He is dead. I will tell all as it happened. + +He journeyed forth to attend the great games which Hellas counts her +pride, to join the Delphic contests. There he heard the herald's voice, +with loud and clear command, proclaim, as coming first, the chariot +race, and so he entered, radiant, every eye admiring as he passed. And +in the race he equaled all the promise of his form in those his rounds, +and so with noblest prize of conquest left the ground. + +Summing up in fewest words what many scarce could tell, I know of none +in strength and act like him. And having won the prize in all the +fivefold forms of race which the umpires had proclaimed, he then was +hailed, proclaimed an Argive, and his name Orestes, the son of mighty +Agamemnon, who once led Hellas's glorious host. + +So far, well. But when a god will injure, none can escape, strong though +he be. For lo! another day, when, as the sun was rising, came the race +swift-footed of the chariot and the horse, he entered the contest with +many charioteers. One was an Achæan, one was from Sparta, two were from +Libya with four-horsed chariots, and Orestes with swift Thessalian mares +came as the fifth. A sixth, with bright bay colts, came from Ætolia; the +seventh was born in far Magnesia; the eighth was an Ænian with white +horses; the ninth was from Athens, the city built by the gods; the tenth +and last was a Boeotian. + +[Illustration: The Chariot Race.] + +And so they stood, their cars in order as the umpires had decided by +lot. Then, with sound of brazen trumpet, they started. + +All cheering their steeds at the same moment, they shook the reins, and +at once the course was filled with the clash and din of rattling +chariots, and the dust rose high. All were now commingled, each striving +to pass the hubs of his neighbors' wheels. Hard and hot were the horses' +breathings, and their backs and the chariot wheels were white with foam. + +Each charioteer, when he came to the place where the last stone marks +the course's goal, turned the corner sharply, letting go the right-hand +trace horse and pulling the nearer in. And so, at first, the chariots +kept their course; but, at length, the Ænian's unbroken colts, just as +they finished their sixth or seventh round, turned headlong back and +dashed at full speed against the chariot wheels of those who were +following. Then with tremendous uproar, each crashed on the other, they +fell overturned, and Crissa's broad plain was filled with wreck of +chariots. + +The man from Athens, skilled and wise as a charioteer, saw the mischief +in time, turned his steeds aside, and escaped the whirling, raging surge +of man and horse. Last of all, Orestes came, holding his horses in +check, and waiting for the end. But when he saw the Athenian, his only +rival left, he urged his colts forward, shaking the reins and speeding +onward. And now the twain continued the race, their steeds sometimes +head to head, sometimes one gaining ground, sometimes the other; and so +all the other rounds were passed in safety. + +Upright in his chariot still stood the ill-starred hero. Then, just as +his team was turning, he let loose the left rein unawares, and struck +the farthest pillar, breaking the spokes right at his axles' center. +Slipping out of his chariot, he was dragged along, with reins +dissevered. His frightened colts tore headlong through the midst of the +field; and the people, seeing him in his desperate plight, bewailed him +greatly--so young, so noble, so unfortunate, now hurled upon the ground, +helpless, lifeless. + +The charioteers, scarcely able to restrain the rushing steeds, freed the +poor broken body--so mangled that not one of all his friends would have +known whose it was. They built a pyre and burned it; and now they bear +hither, in a poor urn of bronze, the sad ashes of that mighty form--that +so Orestes may have his tomb in his fatherland. + +Such is my tale, full sad to hear; but to me who saw this accident, +nothing can ever be more sorrowful. + +[Illustration] + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 33: Translated from the "Electra" of Sophocles, written about +450 years before Christ. The narrative is supposed to have been related +by the friend and attendant of the hero, Orestes.] + + + + +THE COLISEUM AT MIDNIGHT[34] + + +I crossed the Forum to the foot of the Palatine, and, ascending the Via +Sacra, passed beneath the Arch of Titus. From this point I saw below me +the gigantic outline of the Coliseum, like a cloud resting upon the +earth. + +As I descended the hillside, it grew more broad and high,--more definite +in its form, and yet more grand in its dimensions,--till, from the vale +in which it stands encompassed by three of the Seven Hills of Rome, the +majestic ruin in all its solitary grandeur "swelled vast to heaven." + +A single sentinel was pacing to and fro beneath the arched gateway which +leads to the interior, and his measured footsteps were the only sound +that broke the breathless silence of night. + +What a contrast with the scene which that same midnight hour presented, +when in Domitian's time the eager populace began to gather at the gates, +impatient for the morning sports! Nor was the contrast within less +striking. Silence, and the quiet moonbeams, and the broad, deep shadow +of the ruined wall! + +Where now were the senators of Rome, her matrons, and her virgins? Where +was the ferocious populace that rent the air with shouts, when, in the +hundred holidays that marked the dedication of this imperial slaughter +house, five thousand wild beasts from the Libyan deserts and the forests +of Anatolia made the arena sick with blood? + +Where were the Christian martyrs that died with prayers upon their lips, +amid the jeers and imprecations of their fellow men? Where were the +barbarian gladiators, brought forth to the festival of blood, and +"butchered to make a Roman holiday"? + +The awful silence answered, "They are mine!" The dust beneath me +answered, "They are mine!" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 34: From "Outre Mer," by Henry W. Longfellow.] + + EXPRESSION: Learn all you can about the Coliseum. When was it + built? by whom? For what was it used? + + WORD STUDY: _Forum_, _Palatine_, _Via Sacra_, _Titus_, _Domitian_, + _Libyan_, _Anatolia_. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE[35] + + + Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, + That was built in such a logical way + It ran a hundred years to a day, + And then, of a sudden, it--ah, but stay, + I'll tell you what happened, without delay, + Scaring the parson into fits, + Frightening people out of their wits,-- + Have you ever heard of that, I say? + + Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. + _Georgius Secundus_ was then alive,-- + Snuffy old drone from the German hive. + That was the year when Lisbon town + Saw the earth open and gulp her down, + And Braddock's army was done so brown, + Left without a scalp to its crown. + It was on the terrible Earthquake day + That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay. + + Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, + There is always _somewhere_ a weakest spot,-- + In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, + In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, + In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,--lurking still, + Find it somewhere, you must and will,-- + Above or below, or within or without,-- + And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, + A chaise _breaks down_, but doesn't _wear out_. + + But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, + With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell _yeou_,") + He would build one shay to beat the taown + 'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; + It should be so built that it _couldn'_ break daown: + "Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain + Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain; + 'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, + Is only jest + T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." + +[Illustration: The Deacon's Masterpiece.] + + So the Deacon inquired of the village folk + Where he could find the strongest oak, + That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke, + That was for spokes and floor and sills; + He sent for lancewood to make the thills; + The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees; + The panels of white wood, that cuts like cheese, + But lasts like iron for things like these; + The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum," + Last of its timber,--they couldn't sell 'em, + Never an ax had seen their chips, + And the wedges flew from between their lips, + Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips; + Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, + Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin, too, + Steel of the finest, bright and blue; + Thoroughbrace bison skin, thick and wide; + Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide + Found in the pit when the tanner died. + That was the way he "put her through."-- + "There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew." + + Do! I tell you, I rather guess + She was a wonder, and nothing less! + Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, + Deacon and deaconess dropped away, + Children and grandchildren--where were they? + But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay + As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake day! + + EIGHTEEN HUNDRED,--it came and found + The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound, + Eighteen hundred increased by ten,-- + "Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then. + Eighteen hundred and twenty came,-- + Running as usual; much the same. + Thirty and forty at last arrive, + And then come fifty and FIFTY-FIVE. + + Little of all we value here + Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year + Without both feeling and looking queer. + In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, + So far as I know, but a tree and truth. + (This is a moral that runs at large; + Take it,--You're welcome.--No extra charge.) + + FIRST OF NOVEMBER,--the Earthquake day.-- + There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, + A general flavor of mild decay, + But nothing local, as one may say. + There couldn't be,--for the Deacon's art + Had made it so like in every part + That there wasn't a chance for one to start, + For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, + And the floor was just as strong as the sills, + And the panels just as strong as the floor, + And the whippletree neither less nor more, + And the back crossbar as strong as the fore, + And spring and axle and hub _encore_. + And yet, as a _whole_, it is past a doubt + In another hour it will be _worn out_! + +[Illustration] + + First of November, Fifty-five! + This morning the parson takes a drive. + Now, small boys, get out of the way! + Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, + Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. + "Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they. + The parson was working his Sunday's text,-- + Had got to _fifthly_, and stopped perplexed + At what the--Moses--was coming next. + All at once the horse stood still, + Close by the meet'n'house on the hill. + --First a shiver, and then a thrill, + Then something decidedly like a spill,-- + And the parson was sitting upon a rock, + At half-past nine by the meet'n'house clock,-- + Just the hour of the earthquake shock! + --What do you think the parson found, + When he got up and stared around? + The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, + As if it had been to the mill and ground. + You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, + How it went to pieces all at once,-- + All at once, and nothing first,-- + Just as bubbles do when they burst. + + End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. + Logic is logic. That's all I say. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 35: From "The Autocrat or the Breakfast Table," by Oliver +Wendell Holmes, a noted American author and physician (1809--1894).] + + EXPRESSION: Read the selection silently to appreciate its humor. + Now read it aloud with careful attention to naturalness of + expression. Study the historical allusions--"Georgius Secundus," + "Lisbon town," "Braddock's army," "the Earthquake day," etc. + + Read again the passages in which dialect expressions occur. Try to + speak these passages as the author intended them to be spoken. + + Select the passages which appeal most strongly to your sense of + humor. Read them in such manner as to make their humorous quality + thoroughly appreciable to those who listen to you. + + Now study the selection as a poem, comparing it with several + typical poems which you have already studied. Remembering your + definition of poetry (page 138), what is the real poetical value of + this delightful composition? Is it a true poem? Find some other + poems written by Dr. Holmes. Bring them to the class and read them + aloud. + + Talk with your teacher about the life of Dr. Holmes and about his + prose and poetical works. As a poet, how does he compare with + Longfellow? with Whittier? with Walt Whitman? with Browning? + + + + +DOGS AND CATS[36] + + +Most people agree that the dog has intelligence, a heart, and possibly a +soul; on the other hand, they declare that the cat is a traitor, a +deceiver, an ingrate, a thief. How many persons have I heard say: "Oh, I +can't bear a cat! The cat has no love for its master; it cares only for +the house. I had one once, for I was living in the country, where there +were mice. One day the cook left on the kitchen table a chicken she had +just prepared for cooking; in came the cat, and carried it off, and we +never saw a morsel of it. Oh, I hate cats; I will never have one." + +True, the cat is unpopular. Her reputation is bad, and she makes no +effort to improve the general opinion which people have of her. She +cares as little about your opinion as does the Sultan of Turkey. +And--must I confess--this is the very reason I love her. + +In this world, no one can long be indifferent to things, whether trivial +or serious--if, indeed, anything is serious. Hence, every person must, +sooner or later, declare himself on the subjects of dogs and cats. + +Well, then! I love cats. + +Ah, how many times people have said to me, "What! do you love cats?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, don't you love dogs better?" + +"No, I prefer cats every time." + +"Oh, that's very queer!" + +The truth is, I would rather have neither cat nor dog. But when I am +obliged to live with one of these beings, I always choose the cat. I +will tell you why. + +The cat seems to me to have the manners most necessary to good society. +In her early youth she has all the graces, all the gentleness, all the +unexpectedness that the most artistic imagination could desire. She is +smart; she never loses herself. She is prudent, going everywhere, +looking into everything, breaking nothing. + +The cat steals fresh mutton just as the dog steals it, but, unlike the +dog, she takes no delight in carrion. She is fastidiously clean--and in +this respect, she might well be imitated by many of her detractors. She +washes her face, and in so doing foretells the weather into the bargain. +You may please yourself by putting a ribbon around her neck, but never a +collar; she cannot be enslaved. + +In short, the cat is a dignified, proud, disdainful animal. She defies +advances and tolerates no insults. She abandons the house in which she +is not treated according to her merits. She is, in both origin and +character, a true aristocrat, while the dog is and always will be, a +mere vulgar parvenu. + +The only serious argument that can be urged against the cat is that she +destroys the birds, not caring whether they are sparrows or +nightingales. If the dog does less, it is because of his stupidity and +clumsiness, not because he is above such business. He also runs after +the birds; but his foolish barking warns them of his coming, and as they +fly away he can only watch them with open mouth and drooping tail. + +The dog submits himself to the slavery of the collar in order to be +taught the art of circumventing rabbits and pigeons--and this not for +his own profit, but for the pleasure of his master, the hunter. Foolish, +foolish fellow! An animal himself, he delights in persecuting other +animals at the command of the man who beats him. + +But the cat, when she catches a bird, has a good excuse for her +cruelty--she catches it only to eat it herself. Shall she be slandered +for such an act? Before condemning her, men may well think of their own +shortcomings. They will find among themselves, as well as in the race of +cats, many individuals who have claws and often use them for the +destruction of those who are gifted with wings. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 36: Translated from Alexandre Dumas, a noted French novelist +(1802-1870).] + + EXPRESSION: In what does the humor of this selection consist? Read + aloud and with expression the passages which appeal to you as the + most enjoyable. Do you agree with all the statements made by the + author? Read these with which you disagree, and then give reasons + for your disagreement. + + + + +THE OWL CRITIC[37] + + + "Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop; + The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; + The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading + The _Daily_, the _Herald_, the _Post_, little heeding + The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; + Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion; + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Don't you see, Mister Brown," + Cried the youth, with a frown, + "How wrong the whole thing is, + How preposterous each wing is, + How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is-- + In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis? + I make no apology; + I've learned owl-eology, + I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections, + And cannot be blinded to any deflections + Arising from unskillful fingers that fail + To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. + Mister Brown! Mister Brown! + Do take that bird down, + Or you'll soon be the laughingstock all over town!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + +[Illustration: The Owl Critic.] + + "I've _studied_ owls, + And other night fowls, + And I tell you + What I know to be true: + An owl cannot roost + With his limbs so unloosed; + No owl in this world + Ever had his claws curled, + Ever had his legs slanted, + Ever had his bill canted, + Ever had his neck screwed + Into that attitude. + He can't _do_ it, because + 'Tis against all bird laws. + Anatomy teaches, + Ornithology preaches, + An owl has a toe + That _can't_ turn out so! + I've made the white owl my study for years, + And to see such a job almost moves me to tears! + Mister Brown, I'm amazed + You should be so gone crazed + As to put up a bird + In that posture absurd! + To _look_ at that owl really brings on a dizziness; + The man who stuffed _him_ don't half know his business!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Examine those eyes. + I'm filled with surprise + Taxidermists should pass + Off on you such poor glass; + So unnatural they seem + They'd make Audubon scream, + And John Burroughs laugh + To encounter such chaff. + Do take that bird down: + Have him stuffed again, Brown!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "With some sawdust and bark + I could stuff in the dark + An owl better than that. + I could make an old hat + Look more like an owl than that horrid fowl + Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. + In fact, about _him_ there's not one natural feather." + Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, + The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch, + Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic + (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic, + And then fairly hooted, as if he should say, + "Your learning's at fault _this_ time, anyway; + Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. + I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 37: By James T. Fields, an American publisher and author +(1817-1881).] + + + + +MRS. CAUDLE'S UMBRELLA LECTURE[38] + + +Bah! That's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. What were you to +do? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there +was nothing about him that could spoil. Take cold? Indeed! He doesn't +look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd better have taken +cold than taken our umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, +DO YOU HEAR THE RAIN? + +Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle. Don't insult me. He return the +umbrella? Anybody would think you were born yesterday. As if anybody +ever did return an umbrella! + +I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. +They shan't go through such weather, I'm determined. No! they shall stay +at home and never learn anything--the blessed creatures--sooner than go +and get wet. And when they grow up, I wonder whom they'll have to thank +for knowing nothing--who, indeed, but their father? + +But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh, yes! I know very well. I was +going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow--you knew that--and you did +it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate to have me to go there, and take +every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle. +No, sir; if it comes down in bucketfuls I'll go all the more. + +No! and I won't have a cab! Where do you think the money's to come from? +You've got nice, high notions at that club of yours. A cab, indeed! Cost +me sixteen pence at least--sixteen pence?--two-and-eight-pence, for +there's back again! Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who is to pay +for them! I can't pay for them, and I'm sure you can't if you go on as +you do; throwing away your property and beggaring your children, buying +umbrellas. + +Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, DO YOU HEAR IT? But I don't +care--I'll go to mother's to-morrow, I will; and what's more, I'll walk +every step of the way; and you know that will give me my death. Don't +call me a foolish woman; it's you that's the foolish man. You know I +can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a +cold--it always does. But what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I +may be laid up for what you care, as I dare say I shall--and a pretty +doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will! It will teach you to lend +your umbrella again. I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death; and that's +what you lent your umbrella for. Of course! + +Nice clothes I shall get, too, traipsing through weather like this. My +gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. Needn't I wear them, then? +Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear them. No, sir; I'm not going out a +dowdy to please you or anybody else. Gracious knows, it isn't often I +step over the threshold; indeed, I might as well be a slave at +once--better, I should say. But when I go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to +go as a lady. + +Ugh! I look forward with dread for to-morrow. How I'm to go to mother's +I'm sure I can't tell. But, if I die, I'll go. No, sir; I won't _borrow_ +an umbrella. + +No; and you shan't _buy_ one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another +umbrella, I'll throw it into the street. Ha! it was only last week I had +a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd known as much as I do +now, it might have gone without one, for all of me. + +The children, too, dear things, they'll be sopping wet; for they shan't +stay at home; they shan't lose their learning; it's all their father +will leave them, I'm sure. But they shall go to school. Don't tell me I +said they shouldn't; you are so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the +temper of an angel; they shall go to school; mark that! And if they get +their deaths of cold, it's not my fault. I didn't lend the umbrella. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 38: By Douglas William Jerrold, an English humorous writer +(1803-1857).] + + NOTE: Which of the various specimens of humor here presented do you + enjoy most? Give reasons. + + + + +THE DARK DAY IN CONNECTICUT[39] + + + 'Twas on a Mayday of the far old year, + Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell + Over the bloom and sweet life of the spring, + Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon, + A horror of great darkness, like the night + In day of which the Norland sagas tell,-- + The Twilight of the Gods.... + Birds ceased to sing, and all the barnyard fowls + Roosted; the cattle at the pasture bars + Lowed, and looked homeward; bats on leathern wings + Flitted abroad; the sounds of labor died; + Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp + To hear the doom blast of the trumpet shatter + The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ + Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked + A loving guest at Bethany, but stern + As Justice and inexorable Law. + Meanwhile in the old statehouse, dim as ghosts, + Sat the lawgivers of Connecticut, + Trembling beneath their legislative robes. + "It is the Lord's Great Day! Let us adjourn," + Some said; and then as if with one accord + All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport. + +[Illustration: The Dark Day In Connecticut.] + + He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice + The intolerable hush. "This well may be + The Day of Judgment which the world awaits; + But be it so or not, I only know + My present duty, and my Lord's command + To occupy till he come. So at the post + Where he hath set me in his providence, + I choose, for one, to meet him face to face,-- + No faithless servant frightened from my task, + But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls; + And therefore, with all reverence, I would say, + Let God do his work, we will see to ours.-- + Bring in the candles!" And they brought them in. + Then, by the flaring lights the Speaker read, + Albeit with husky voice and shaking hands, + An act to amend an act to regulate + The shad and alewive fisheries. Whereupon + Wisely and well spake Abraham Davenport, + Straight to the question, with no figures of speech + Save the ten Arab signs, yet not without + The shrewd, dry humor natural to the man-- + His awestruck colleagues listening all the while, + Between the pauses of his argument, + To hear the thunder of the wrath of God + Break from the hollow trumpet of the cloud. + And there he stands in memory to this day, + Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen + Against the background of unnatural dark, + A witness to the ages as they pass, + That simple duty hath no place for fear. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 39: From "Abraham Davenport," by John Greenleaf Whittier.] + + + + +TWO INTERESTING LETTERS + + +I. COLUMBUS TO THE LORD TREASURER OF SPAIN + + BARCELONA, 1493. + + TO LORD RAPHAEL SANCHEZ:-- + +Knowing that it will afford you pleasure to learn that I have brought my +undertaking to a successful termination, I have decided upon writing you +this letter to acquaint you with all the events which have occurred in +my voyage, and the discoveries which have resulted from it. + +[Illustration] + +Thirty-three days after my departure from Cadiz I reached the Indian +sea, where I discovered many islands, thickly peopled, of which I took +possession without resistance in the name of our most illustrious +monarchs, by public proclamation and with unfurled banners. To the first +of these islands, which is called by the Indians Guanahani, I gave the +name of the blessed Saviour, relying upon whose protection I had reached +this as well as the other islands. + +As soon as we arrived at that, which as I have said was named Juana, I +proceeded along its coast a short distance westward, and found it to be +so large and apparently without termination, that I could not suppose it +to be an island, but the continental province of Cathay. + +In the meantime I had learned from some Indians whom I had seized, that +the country was certainly an island; and therefore I sailed toward the +east, coasting to the distance of three hundred and twenty-two miles, +which brought us to the extremity of it; from this point I saw lying +eastwards another island, fifty-four miles distant from Juana, to which +I gave the name Española. + +All these islands are very beautiful, and distinguished by a diversity +of scenery; they are filled with a great variety of trees of immense +height, and which I believe to retain their foliage in all seasons; for +when I saw them they were as verdant and luxurious as they usually are +in Spain in the month of May,--some of them were blossoming, some +bearing fruit, and all flourishing in the greatest perfection, according +to their respective stages of growth, and the nature and quality of +each; yet the islands are not so thickly wooded as to be impassable. The +nightingale and various birds were singing in countless numbers, and +that in November, the month in which I arrived there. + +The inhabitants are very simple and honest, and exceedingly liberal with +all they have; none of them refusing anything he may possess when he is +asked for it, but on the contrary inviting us to ask them. They exhibit +great love toward all others in preference to themselves: they also give +objects of great value for trifles, and content themselves with very +little or nothing in return. + +I, however, forbade that these trifles and articles of no value (such as +pieces of dishes, plates, and glass, keys, and leather straps) should be +given to them, although, if they could obtain them, they imagined +themselves to be possessed of the most beautiful trinkets in the world. + +It even happened that a sailor received for a leather strap as much gold +as was worth three golden nobles, and for things of more trifling value +offered by our men, the Indian would give whatever the seller required. + +On my arrival I had taken some Indians by force from the first island +that I came to, in order that they might learn our language. These men +are still traveling with me, and although they have been with us now a +long time, they continue to entertain the idea that I have descended +from heaven; and on our arrival at any new place they published this, +crying out immediately with a loud voice to the other Indians, "Come, +come and look upon beings of a celestial race": upon which both men and +women, children and adults, young men and old, when they got rid of the +fear they at first entertained, would come out in throngs, crowding the +roads to see us, some bringing food, others drink, with astonishing +affection and kindness. + +Although all I have related may appear to be wonderful and unheard of, +yet the results of my voyage would have been more astonishing if I had +had at my disposal such ships as I required. But these great and +marvelous results are not to be attributed to any merit of mine, but to +the holy Christian faith, and to the piety and religion of our +Sovereigns; for that which the unaided intellect of man could not +compass, the spirit of God has granted to human exertions, for God is +wont to hear the prayers of his servants who love his precepts even to +the performance of apparent impossibilities. + +Thus it has happened to me in the present instance, who have +accomplished a task to which the powers of mortal men had never hitherto +attained; for if there have been those who have anywhere written or +spoken of these islands, they have done so with doubts and conjectures, +and no one has ever asserted that he has seen them, on which account +their writings have been looked upon as little else than fables. + +Therefore let the king and queen, our princes and their most happy +kingdoms, and all the other provinces of Christendom, render thanks to +our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who has granted us so great a victory +and such prosperity. + + CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. + + EXPRESSION: In connection with this letter, read again the story of + the discovery as narrated by Washington Irving, page 43. In what + respect do the two accounts differ? + + +II. GOVERNOR WINSLOW TO A FRIEND IN ENGLAND + + DEAR FRIEND,-- + +Although I received no letter from you by this ship, yet forasmuch as I +know you expect the performance of my promise, which was to write to you +truly and faithfully of all things, I have therefore, at this time, sent +unto you accordingly, referring you for further satisfaction to our more +large relations. + +[Illustration] + +You shall understand that in this little time that a few of us have been +here, we have built seven dwelling houses and four for the use of the +plantation, and have made preparation for divers others. + +We set the last spring some twenty acres of Indian corn, and sowed some +six acres of barley and pease; and according to the manner of the +Indians, we manured our ground with herrings, or rather shads, which we +have in great abundance, and take with great ease at our doors. + +Our corn did prove well; and God be praised, we had a good increase of +Indian corn, and our barley indifferent good, but our pease not worth +the gathering, for we feared they were too late sown. They came up very +well, and blossomed; but the sun parched them in the blossom. + +Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that +so we might, after a special manner, rejoice together after we had +gathered the fruit of our labors. They four, in one day, killed as much +fowl as with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At +which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of +the Indians coming among us, and among the rest their greatest king, +Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and +feasted; and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to +the plantation, and bestowed upon our governor, and upon the captain and +others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this +time with us, yet by the goodness of God we are so far from want, that +we often wish you partakers of our plenty.... + +We have often found the Indians very faithful in their covenant of peace +with us, very loving, and ready to pleasure us. We often go to them, and +they come to us.... Yea, it hath pleased God so to possess the Indians +with a fear of us and love to us, that not only the greatest king +amongst them, called Massasoit, but also all the princes and peoples +round about us, have either made suit to us, or been glad of any +occasion to make peace with us; so that seven of them at once have sent +their messengers to us to that end.... They are a people without any +religion or knowledge of any God, yet very trusty, quick of +apprehension, ripe-witted, just.... + +Now, because I expect you coming unto us, with other of our friends, I +thought good to advertise you of a few things needful. Be careful to +have a very good bread room to put your biscuits in. Let not your meat +be dry-salted; none can better do it than the sailors. Let your meal be +so hard trod in your cask that you shall need an adz or hatchet to work +it out with. Trust not too much on us for corn at this time, for we +shall have little enough till harvest. + +Build your cabins as open as you can, and bring good store of clothes +and bedding with you. Bring every man a musket or fowling piece. Let +your piece be long in the barrel, and fear not the weight of it, for +most of our shooting is from stands. + +I forbear further to write for the present, hoping to see you by the +next return. So I take my leave, commending you to the Lord for a safe +conduct unto us, resting in him, + + Your loving friend, + EDWARD WINSLOW. + + _Plymouth in New England, + this 11th of December, 1621._ + + + + +POEMS OF HOME AND COUNTRY + + +I. "THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND"[40] + + 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 concentered all in self, + Living, shall forfeit fair renown, + And, doubly dying, shall go down + To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, + Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. + + O Caledonia! stern and wild, + Meet nurse for a poetic child! + Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, + Land of the mountain and the flood, + Land of my sires! what mortal hand + Can e'er untie the filial band, + That knits me to thy rugged strand? + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 40: From the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," by Sir Walter Scott.] + + +II. THE GREEN LITTLE SHAMROCK OF IRELAND[41] + + There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle, + 'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that set it; + And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile, + And with dew from his eye often wet it. + It thrives through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland, + And its name is the dear little shamrock of Ireland-- + The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, + The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland. + + This dear little plant still grows in our land, + Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin, + Whose smiles can bewitch, whose eyes can command, + In what climate they chance to appear in; + For they shine through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland, + Just like their own dear little shamrock of Ireland-- + The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, + The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland. + + This dear little plant that springs from our soil, + When its three little leaves are extended, + Betokens that each for the other should toil, + And ourselves by ourselves be befriended,-- + And still through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland, + From one root should branch like the shamrock of Ireland-- + The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, + The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 41: By Andrew Cherry, an Irish poet (1762-1812).] + + +III. MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS[42] + + My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; + My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, + Chasing the wild deer and following the roe-- + My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. + + Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, + The birthplace of valor, the country of worth; + Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, + The hills of the Highlands forever I love. + + Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow; + Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; + Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; + Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. + + My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; + My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, + Chasing the wild deer and following the roe-- + My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 42: By Robert Burns, a famous Scottish poet (1759-1796).] + + +IV. THE FATHERLAND[43] + + Where is the true man's fatherland? + Is it where he by chance is born? + Doth not the yearning spirit scorn + In such scant borders to be spanned? + Oh, yes! his fatherland must be + As the blue heaven wide and free! + + Is it alone where freedom is, + Where God is God, and man is man? + Doth he not claim a broader span + For the soul's love of home than this? + Oh, yes! his fatherland must be + As the blue heaven wide and free! + + Where'er a human heart doth wear + Joy's myrtle wreath or sorrow's gyves, + Where'er a human spirit strives + After a life more true and fair, + There is the true man's birthplace grand, + His is a world-wide fatherland! + + Where'er a single slave doth pine, + Where'er one man may help another,-- + Thank God for such a birthright, brother,-- + That spot of earth is thine and mine! + There is the true man's birthplace grand, + His is a world-wide fatherland! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 43: By James Russell Lowell.] + + +V. HOME[44] + + But where to find that happiest spot below, + Who can direct when all pretend to know? + The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone + Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own-- + Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, + And his long nights of revelry and ease; + The naked negro, panting at the line, + Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, + Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, + And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. + Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, + His first, best country, ever is at home. + And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, + And estimate the blessings which they share, + Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find + An equal portion dealt to all mankind; + As different good, by art or nature given, + To different nations makes their blessing even. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 44: By Oliver Goldsmith.] + + EXPRESSION: Read all of these poems silently with a view towards + sympathizing with the feelings which they express. Now read each + one separately, and compare them, one with another. What is the + leading sentiment inculcated by each? Which poem appeals the most + strongly to your own emotions? + + WORD STUDY: _Caledonia_, _shamrock_, _brake_, _Erin_, _gyves_, + _yearning_, _frigid_, _tepid_, _patriot_. + + + + +THE AGE OF COAL[45] + + +Come with me, in fancy, back to those early ages of the world, +thousands, yes millions, of years ago. Stand with me on some low ancient +hill, which overlooks the flat and swampy lands that are to become the +American continent. + +Few heights are yet in sight. The future Rocky Mountains lie still +beneath the surface of the sea. The Alleghanies are not yet heaved up +above the level surface of the ground, for over them are spread the +boggy lands and thick forests of future coal fields. The Mississippi +River is not yet in existence, or if in existence, is but an unimportant +little stream. + +Below us, as we stand, we can see a broad and sluggish body of water, in +places widening into shallow lakes. On either side of this stream, vast +forests extend in every direction as far as the horizon, bounded on one +side by the distant ocean, clothing each hilly rise, and sending islets +of matted trees and shrubs floating down the waters. + +Strange forests these are to us. No oaks, no elms, no beeches, no +birches, no palms, nor many colored wild flowers are there. The +deciduous plants so common in our modern forests are nowhere found; but +enormous club mosses are seen, as well as splendid pines and an +abundance of ancient trees with waving, frondlike leaves. Here also are +graceful tree ferns and countless ferns of lower growth filling up all +gaps. + +[Illustration] + +No wild quadrupeds are yet in existence, and the silent forests are +enlivened only by the stirring of the breeze among the trees or the +occasional hum of monstrous insects. But upon the margin of yonder +stream a huge four-footed creature creeps slowly along. He looks much +like a gigantic salamander, and his broad, soft feet make deep +impressions in the yielding mud. + +No sunshine but only a gleam of light can creep through the misty +atmosphere. The earth seems clothed in a garment of clouds, and the air +is positively reeking with damp warmth, like the air of a hothouse. This +explains the luxuriant growth of foliage. + +Could we thus stand upon the hilltops and keep watch through the long +coal building ages, we should see generation after generation of forest +trees and underwoods living, withering, dying, falling to earth. Slowly +a layer of dead and decaying vegetation thus collects, over which the +forest flourishes still--tree for tree, and shrub for shrub, springing +up in the place of each one that dies. + +Then, after a very long time, through the working of mighty underground +forces, the broad lands sink a little way--perhaps only a few feet--and +the ocean tide rushes in, overwhelming the forests, trees and plants and +living creatures, in one dire desolation.--No, not dire, for the ruin is +not objectless or needless. It is all a part of the wonderful +preparation for the life of man on earth. + +Under the waves lie the overwhelmed forests--prostrate trunks and broken +stumps in countless numbers overspreading the gathered vegetable remains +of centuries before. Upon these the sea builds a protective covering of +sand or mud, more or less thick. Here sea creatures come to live, fishes +swim hungrily to and fro, and shellfishes die in the mud which, by and +by, is to become firm rock with stony animal remains embedded in it. + +After a while the land rises again to its former position. There are +bare, sandy flats as before, but they do not remain bare. Lichens and +hardier plants find a home. The light spores of the ancient forest trees +take root and grow, and luxuriant forests, like those of old, spring +again into being. Upon river and lake bottoms, and over the low damp +lands, rich layers of decaying vegetation again collect. Then once more +the land sinks and the ocean tide pours in; and another sandy or muddy +stratum is built up on the overflowed lands. Thus the second layer of +forest growth is buried like the first, and both lie quietly through the +long ages following, hidden from sight, slowly changing in their +substance from wood to shining coal. + + * * * * * + +Thus time after time, the land rose and sank, rose and sank, again and +again. Not the whole continent is believed to have risen or sunk at the +same time; but here at one period, there at another period, the +movements probably went on. + +The greater part of the vegetable mass decayed slowly; but when the +final ruin of the forest came, whole trunks were snapped off close to +the roots and flung down. These are now found in numbers on the tops of +the coal layers, the barks being flattened and changed to shining black +coal. + +How wonderful the tale of those ancient days told to us by these buried +forests! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 45: By Agnes Giberne, an English writer on scientific +subjects.] + + + + +SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON[46] + + +I am going to say a few words about the moon; but there are many matters +relating to her of great interest which I must leave untouched, for the +simple reason that there is not room to speak of them in a single paper. + +Thus the moon's changes of shape from the horned moon to the half, and +thence to the full moon, with the following changes from full to half, +and so to the horned form again, are well worth studying; but I should +want all the space I am going to occupy, merely to explain properly +those changes alone. + +So a study of the way in which the moon rules the tides would, I am +sure, interest every thoughtful reader; but there is not room for it +here. + +Let us now turn to consider the moon; not as the light which makes our +nights beautiful, nor as the body which governs the mighty ocean in its +tidal sway, but as another world,--the companion planet of the earth. + +It has always been a matter not only of the deepest curiosity, but of +the greatest scientific import, whether other planets, and particularly +our own satellite, are inhabited or exhibit any traces whatever of +animal or vegetable life. + +One or two astronomers have claimed the discovery of vegetation on the +moon's surface by reason of the periodic appearance of a greenish tint; +but as the power of the telescope can bring the moon to within only +about a hundred and twenty miles of us, these alleged appearances cannot +be satisfactorily verified. + +The moon is a globe, two thousand one hundred and sixty-five miles in +diameter; very much less, therefore, than our earth, which has a +diameter of about seven thousand nine hundred and twenty miles. + +Thus the moon's surface is less than one thirteenth of the earth's. +Instead of two hundred millions of square miles as the earth has, the +moon has only about fourteen millions of square miles, or about the same +surface as North and South America together, without the great American +Islands of the Arctic regions. + +The volume of the earth exceeds that of the moon more than forty-nine +times. But the moon's substance is somewhat lighter. Thus the mass, or +quantity of matter in the moon, instead of being a forty-ninth part of +the earth's, is about an eighty-first part. + +This small companion world travels like our own earth around the sun, at +a distance of ninety-three millions of miles. The path of the moon +around the sun is, in fact, so nearly the same as that of the earth that +it would be almost impossible to distinguish one from the other, if they +were both drawn on a sheet of paper a foot or so in diameter. + +You may perhaps be surprised to find me thus saying that the moon +travels round the sun, when you have been accustomed to hear that the +moon travels round the earth. In reality, however, it is round the sun +the moon travels, though certainly the moon and the earth circle around +each other. + +The distance of the moon from the earth is not always the same; but the +average, or mean distance, amounts to about two hundred and thirty-eight +thousand eight hundred and twenty-eight miles. This is the distance +between the centers of the two globes. With this distance separating +them, the companion worlds--the earth and the moon--circle round each +other, as they both travel round the central sun. + +But now you will be curious to learn whether our companion planet, the +moon, really presents the appearance of a world, when studied with a +powerful telescope. + +If we judged the moon in this way, we should say that she is not only +not inhabited by living creatures, but that she could not possibly be +inhabited. What is it that makes our earth a fit abode for us who live +upon it? Her surface is divided into land and water. We live on the +land; but without the water we should perish. + +Were there no water, there would be no clouds, no rain, no snow, no +rivers, brooks, or other streams. Without these, there could be no +vegetable life; and without vegetable life, there could be no animal +life, even if animals themselves could live without water. + +Yet again, the earth's globe is enwrapped in an atmosphere,--the air we +breathe. Without this air, neither animals nor vegetables could live. I +might go further and show other features of the earth, which we are at +present justified in regarding as essential to the mere existence, and +still more to the comfort, of creatures living upon the earth. + +Now, before the telescope was invented, many astronomers believed that +there was water on the moon, and probably air also. But as soon as +Galileo examined the moon with his largest telescope (and a very weak +telescope it was), he found that whatever the dark parts of the moon may +be, they certainly are not seas. + +More and more powerful telescopes have since been turned on the moon. It +has been shown that there are not only no seas, but no rivers, pools, +lakes, or other water surfaces. No clouds are ever seen to gather over +any part of the moon's surface. In fact, nothing has ever yet been seen +on the moon which suggests in the slightest degree the existence of +water on her surface, or even that water could at present possibly +exist; and, of course, without water it is safe to infer there could be +neither vegetable nor animal existence. + +It would seem, then, that apart from the absence of air on the moon, +there is such an entire absence of water that no creatures now living on +the earth could possibly exist upon the moon. Certainly man could not +exist there, nor could animals belonging to any except the lowest orders +of animal life. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 46: By Richard A. Proctor, a noted English astronomer +(1837-1888).] + + + + +THE COMING OF THE BIRDS[47] + + + I know the trusty almanac + Of the punctual coming-back, + On their due days, of the birds. + I marked them yestermorn, + A flock of finches darting + Beneath the crystal arch, + Piping, as they flew, a march,-- + Belike the one they used in parting + Last year from yon oak or larch; + Dusky sparrows in a crowd, + Diving, darting northward free, + Suddenly betook them all, + Every one to his hole in the wall, + Or to his niche in the apple tree. + + I greet with joy the choral trains + Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. + Best gems of Nature's cabinet, + With dews of tropic morning wet, + Beloved of children, bards and Spring, + O birds, your perfect virtues bring, + Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, + Your manners for the heart's delight; + Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, + Here weave your chamber weather-proof, + Forgive our harms, and condescend + To man, as to a lubber friend, + And, generous, teach his awkward race + Courage and probity and grace! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 47: By Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American poet and philosopher +(1803-1882).] + + + + +THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS[48] + + +The coming and going of the birds is more or less a mystery and a +surprise. We go out in the morning, and no thrush or finch is to be +heard; we go out again, and every tree and grove is musical; yet again, +and all is silent. Who saw them come? Who saw them depart? + +This pert little winter wren, for instance, darting in and out the +fence, diving under the rubbish here and coming up yards away,--how does +he manage with those little circular wings to compass degrees and zones, +and arrive always in the nick of time? Last August I saw him in the +remotest wilds of the Adirondacks, impatient and inquisitive as usual; a +few weeks later, on the Potomac, I was greeted by the same hardy little +busybody. Does he travel by easy stages from bush to bush and from wood +to wood? or has that compact little body force and courage to brave the +night and the upper air, and so achieve leagues at one pull? + +And yonder bluebird, with the earth tinge on his breast and the sky +tinge on his back,--did he come down out of heaven on that bright March +morning when he told us so softly and plaintively that spring had come? +Indeed, there is nothing in the return of the birds more curious and +suggestive than in the first appearance, or rumors of the appearance, of +this little bluecoat. + +The bird at first seems a mere wandering voice in the air; one hears its +call or carol on some bright March morning, but is uncertain of its +source or direction; it falls like a drop of rain when no cloud is +visible; one looks and listens, but to no purpose. The weather changes, +perhaps a cold snap with snow comes on, and it may be a week before I +hear the note again, and this time or the next perchance see the bird +sitting on a stake in the fence, lifting his wing as he calls cheerily +to his mate. Its notes now become daily more frequent; the birds +multiply, and, flitting from point to point, call and warble more +confidently and gleefully. + +Not long after the bluebird comes the robin, sometimes in March, but in +most of the Northern states April is the month of the robin. In large +numbers they scour the field and groves. You hear their piping in the +meadow, in the pasture, on the hillside. Walk in the woods, and the dry +leaves rustle with the whir of their wings, the air is vocal with their +cheery call. In excess of joy and vivacity, they run, leap, scream, +chase each other through the air, diving and sweeping among the trees +with perilous rapidity. + +In that free, fascinating, half work and half play pursuit,--sugar +making,--a pursuit which still lingers in many parts of New York, as in +New England, the robin is one's constant companion. When the day is +sunny and the ground bare, you meet him at all points and hear him at +all hours. At sunset, on the tops of the tall maples, with look +heavenward, and in a spirit of utter abandonment, he carols his simple +strain. And sitting thus amid the stark, silent trees, above the wet, +cold earth, with the chill of winter in the air, there is no fitter or +sweeter songster in the whole round year. It is in keeping with the +scene and the occasion. How round and genuine the notes are, and how +eagerly our ears drink them in! The first utterance, and the spell of +winter is thoroughly broken, and the remembrance of it afar off. + +Another April bird, which makes her appearance sometimes earlier and +sometimes later than Robin, and whose memory I fondly cherish, is the +Phoebe bird, the pioneer of the fly catchers. In the inland fanning +districts, I used to notice her, on some bright morning about Easter +Day, proclaiming her arrival with much variety of motion and attitude, +from the peak of the barn or hay shed. As yet, you may have heard only +the plaintive, homesick note of the bluebird, or the faint trill of the +song sparrow; and Phoebe's clear, vivacious assurance of her veritable +bodily presence among us again is welcomed by all ears. At agreeable +intervals in her lay she describes a circle, or an ellipse in the air, +ostensibly prospecting for insects, but really, I suspect, as an +artistic flourish, thrown in to make up in some way for the deficiency +of her musical performance. + +Another April comer, who arrives shortly after robin redbreast, with +whom he associates both at this season and in the autumn, is the +golden-winged woodpecker, _alias_ "high-hole," _alias_ "flicker," +_alias_ "yarup." He is an old favorite of my boyhood, and his note to me +means very much. He announces his arrival by a long, loud call, repeated +from the dry branch of some tree, or a stake in the fence,--a thoroughly +melodious April sound. I think how Solomon finished that beautiful +climax on spring, "And the voice of the turtle is heard in the land," +and see that a description of spring in this farming country, to be +equally characteristic, should culminate in like manner, "And the call +of the high-hole comes up from the wood." + +The song sparrow, that universal favorite and firstling of the spring, +comes before April, and its simple strain gladdens all hearts. + +May is the month of the swallows and the orioles. There are many other +distinguished arrivals, indeed, nine tenths of the birds are here by the +last week in May, yet the swallows and orioles are the most conspicuous. +The bright plumage of the latter seems really like an arrival from the +tropics. I see them flash through the blossoming trees, and all the +forenoon hear their incessant warbling and wooing. The swallows dive and +chatter about the barn, or squeak and build beneath the eaves; the +partridge drums in the fresh sprouting woods; the long, tender note of +the meadow lark comes up from the meadow; and at sunset, from every +marsh and pond come the ten thousand voices of the hylas. May is the +transition month, and exists to connect April and June, the root with +the flower. + +With June the cup is full, our hearts are satisfied, there is no more to +be desired. The perfection of the season, among other things, has +brought the perfection of the song and plumage of the birds. The master +artists are all here, and the expectations excited by the robin and the +song sparrow are fully justified. The thrushes have all come; and I sit +down upon the first rock, with hands full of the pink azalea, to listen. +In the meadows the bobolink is in all his glory; in the high pastures +the field sparrow sings his breezy vesper hymn; and the woods are +unfolding to the music of the thrushes. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 48: By John Burroughs.] + + EXPRESSION: Read again the four descriptive selections beginning on + page 179. Observe the wide difference in style of composition. Of + the three prose extracts, which is the most interesting to you? + Give reasons why this is so. Which passages require the most + animation in reading? Read these passages so that those who are + listening to you may fully appreciate their meaning. + + + + +THE POET AND THE BIRD + + +I. THE SONG OF THE LARK + +On a pleasant evening in late summer the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley and +his wife, Mary Shelley, were walking near the city of Leghorn in Italy. +The sky was cloudless, the air was soft and balmy, and the earth seemed +hushed into a restful stillness. The green lane along which they were +walking was bordered by myrtle hedges, where crickets were softly +chirping and fireflies were already beginning to light their lamps. From +the fields beyond the hedges the grateful smell of new-mown hay was +wafted, while in the hazy distance the church towers of the city glowed +yellow in the last rays of the sun, and the gray-green sea rippled +softly in the fading light of day. + +Suddenly, from somewhere above them, a burst of music fell upon their +ears. It receded upward, but swelled into an ecstatic harmony, with +fluttering intervals and melodious swervings such as no musician's art +can imitate. + +"What is that?" asked the poet, as the song seemed to die away in the +blue vault of heaven. + +"It is a skylark," answered his wife. + +"Nay," said the poet, his face all aglow with the joy of the moment; "no +mere bird ever poured forth such strains of music as that. I think, +rather, that it is some blithe spirit embodied as a bird." + +"Let us imagine that it is so," said Mary. "But, hearken. It is singing +again, and soaring as it sings." + +"Yes, and I can see it, too, like a flake of gold against the pale +purple of the sky. It is so high that it soars in the bright rays of the +sun, while we below are in the twilight shade. And now it is descending +again, and the air is filled with its song. Hark to the rain of melody +which it showers down upon us." + +They listened enraptured, while the bird poured forth its flood of song. +When at length it ceased, and the two walked home in the deepening +twilight, the poet said:-- + +"We shall never know just what it was that sang so gloriously. But, +Mary, what do you think is most like it?" + +"A poet," she answered. "There is nothing so like it as a poet wrapt in +his own sweet thoughts and singing till the world is made to sing with +him for very joy." + +"And I," said he, "would compare it to a beautiful maiden singing for +love in some high palace tower, while all who hear her are bewitched by +the enchanting melody." + +"And I," said she, "would compare it to a red, red rose sitting among +its green leaves and giving its sweet perfumes to the summer breezes." + +"You speak well, Mary," said he; "but let me make one other comparison. +Is it not like a glowworm lying unseen amid the grass and flowers, and +all through the night casting a mellow radiance over them and filling +them with divine beauty?" + +[Illustration: The Song of the Lark.] + +"I do not like the comparison so well," was the answer. "Yet, after all, +there is nothing so like it as a poet--as yourself, for instance." + +"No poet ever had its skill, because no poet was ever so free from +care," said Shelley, sadly. "It is like an unbodied joy floating +unrestrained whithersoever it will. Ah, Mary, if I had but half the +gladness that this bird or spirit must know, I would write such poetry +as would bewitch the world, and all men would listen, entranced, to my +song." + +That night the poet could not sleep for thinking of the skylark's song. +The next day he sat alone in his study, putting into harmonious words +the thoughts that filled his mind. In the evening he read to Mary a new +poem, entitled "To a Skylark." It was full of the melody inspired by the +song of the bird. Its very meter suggested the joyous flight, the +fluttering pauses, the melodious swervings, the heavenward ascent of the +bird. No poem has ever been written that is fuller of beautiful images +and sweet and joyous harmonies. + +Have you ever listened to the song of a bird and tried to attune your +own thoughts to its unrestrained and untaught melodies? There are no +true skylarks in America, and therefore you may never be able to repeat +the experience of the poet or fully to appreciate the "harmonious +madness" of his matchless poem; for no other bird is so literally the +embodiment of song as the European skylark. + + * * * * * + +But now let us read Shelley's inimitable poem. + + +II. TO A SKYLARK + + Hail to thee, blithe spirit! + Bird thou never wert, + That from heaven, or near it, + Pourest thy full heart + In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. + + Higher still and higher + From the earth thou springest + Like a cloud of fire; + The blue deep thou wingest, + And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. + + In the golden lightning + Of the sunken sun, + O'er which clouds are bright'ning, + Thou dost float and run, + Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. + + The pale purple even + Melts around thy flight; + Like a star of heaven, + In the broad daylight + Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. + + Keen as are the arrows + Of that silver sphere, + Whose intense lamp narrows + In the white dawn clear, + Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. + + All the earth and air + With thy voice is loud, + As, when night is bare, + From one lonely cloud + The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. + + What thou art we know not; + What is most like thee? + From rainbow clouds there flow not + Drops so bright to see, + As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. + + Like a poet hidden + In the light of thought, + Singing hymns unbidden, + Till the world is wrought + To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not; + + Like a highborn maiden + In a palace tower, + Soothing her love-laden + Soul in secret hour + With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower; + + Like a glowworm golden + In a dell of dew, + Scattering unbeholden + Its aërial hue + Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view; + + Like a rose embowered + In its own green leaves, + By warm winds deflowered, + Till the scent it gives + Make faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingèd thieves. + + Sound of vernal showers + On the twinkling grass, + Rain-awakened flowers, + All that ever was + Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. + + Teach us, sprite or bird, + What sweet thoughts are thine: + I have never heard + Praise of love or wine + That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. + + Chorus Hymeneal, + Or triumphal chaunt, + Matched with thine would be all + But an empty vaunt, + A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. + + What objects are the fountains + Of thy happy strain? + What fields, or waves, or mountains? + What shapes of sky or plain? + What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain? + + With thy clear keen joyance + Languor cannot be: + Shadow of annoyance + Never came near thee: + Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. + + Waking or asleep, + Thou of death must deem + Things more true and deep + Than we mortals dream, + Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? + + We look before and after, + And pine for what is not; + Our sincerest laughter + With some pain is fraught: + Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. + + Yet if we could scorn + Hate, and pride, and fear; + If we were things born + Not to shed a tear, + I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. + + Better than all measures + Of delightful sound, + Better than all treasures + That in books are found, + Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! + + Teach me half the gladness + That thy brain must know, + Such harmonious madness + From thy lips would flow, + The world should listen then, as I am listening now. + + + + +HARK, HARK! THE LARK[49] + + + Hark, hark! The lark at Heaven's gate sings, + And Phoebus 'gins arise, + His steeds to water at those springs + On chaliced flowers that lies; + And winking Mary-buds begin + To ope their golden eyes; + With everything that pretty is, + My lady sweet, arise; + Arise, arise! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 49: From "Cymbeline," by William Shakespeare.] + + EXPRESSION: Read Shelley's poem with care, trying to understand and + interpret the poet's enthusiasm as he watched the flight of the + lark. Point out the five passages in the poem which seem the most + striking or the most beautiful. Memorize Shakespeare's song and + repeat it in a pleasing manner. Point out any peculiarities you may + notice. + + + + +ECHOES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION + + +I. PATRICK HENRY'S FAMOUS SPEECH[50] + +Mr. President, it is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of +hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to +the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the +part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? +Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, +and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their +temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, +I am willing to know the whole truth, to know the worst, and to provide +for it. + +I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that lamp is the +lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the +past. And, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in +the conduct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, to justify +those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves +and the house? + +Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately +received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer +not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this +gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike +preparations which cover our waters, and darken our land. + +Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? +Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be +called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These +are the implements of war and subjugation,--the last arguments to which +kings resort. + +I ask, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to +force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive +for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to +call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has +none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are +sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British +ministry have been so long forging. + +And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have +been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer +upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of +which it is capable, but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to +entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find, which have +not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive +ourselves longer. + +Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which +is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have +supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have +implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the +ministry and Parliament. + +Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have produced +additional violence and insult, our supplications have been disregarded, +and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In +vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and +reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. + +If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate these +inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we +mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so +long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until +the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained,--we must fight. I +repeat it, sir, we must fight. An appeal to arms, and to the God of +hosts, is all that is left us. + +They tell us, sir, that we are weak,--unable to cope with so formidable +an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, +or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a +British guard shall be stationed in every house? + +Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire +the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and +hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound +us hand and foot? + +Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the +God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed +in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we +possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against +us. + +Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God +who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up +friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the +strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, +sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now +too late to retire from the contest. + +There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. Our chains are +forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is +inevitable; and let it come!--I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is vain, +sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace! but there +is no peace. The war is actually begun. + +The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the +clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why +stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they +have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the +price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what +course others may take; but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me +death! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 50: Before the Virginia Convention, March 25, 1775.] + + +II. MARION'S MEN[51] + + We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, + His friends and merry men are we, + And when the troop of Tarleton rides, + We burrow in the cypress tree. + + The turfy hummock is our bed, + Our home is in the red deer's den, + Our roof, the treetop overhead, + For we are wild and hunted men. + + We fly by day and shun its light, + But, prompt to strike the sudden blow, + We mount and start with early night, + And through the forest track our foe. + + And soon he hears our chargers leap, + The flashing saber blinds his eyes, + And, ere he drives away his sleep + And rushes from his camp, he dies. + + Free bridle bit, good gallant steed, + That will not ask a kind caress, + To swim the Santee at our need, + When on his heels the foemen press,-- + + The true heart and the ready hand, + The spirit stubborn to be free, + The trusted bore, the smiting brand,-- + And we are Marion's men, you see. + +[Illustration: Marion's Men.] + + Now light the fire and cook the meal, + The last perhaps that we shall taste; + I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal, + And that's a sign we move in haste. + + He whistles to the scouts, and hark! + You hear his order calm and low, + Come, wave your torch across the dark, + And let us see the boys that go. + + Now pile the brush and roll the log-- + Hard pillow, but a soldier's head + That's half the time in brake and bog + Must never think of softer bed. + + The owl is hooting to the night, + The cooter crawling o'er the bank, + And in that pond the flashing light + Tells where the alligator sank. + + * * * * * + + What! 'tis the signal! start so soon? + And through the Santee swamps so deep, + Without the aid of friendly moon, + And we, Heaven help us! half asleep? + + But courage, comrades! Marion leads, + The Swamp Fox takes us out to-night; + So clear your swords and spur your steeds, + There's goodly chance, I think, of fight. + + We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, + We leave the swamp and cypress tree, + Our spurs are in our coursers' sides, + And ready for the strife are we. + + The Tory's camp is now in sight, + And there he cowers within his den; + He hears our shouts, he dreads the fight, + He fears, and flies from Marion's men. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 51: By William Gilmore Simms, an American author (1806-1870).] + + +III. IN MEMORY OF GEORGE WASHINGTON[52] + +How, my fellow-citizens, shall I single to your grateful hearts his +preëminent worth? Where shall I begin in opening to your view a +character throughout sublime? Shall I speak of his warlike achievements, +all springing from obedience to his country's will--all directed to his +country's good? + +Will you go with me to the banks of the Monongahela, to see our youthful +Washington supporting, in the dismal hour of Indian victory, the +ill-fated Braddock and saving, by his judgment and his valor, the +remains of a defeated army, pressed by the conquering savage foe? Or +when, oppressed America nobly resolving to risk her all in defense of +her violated right, he was elevated by the unanimous vote of Congress to +the command of her armies? + +Will you follow him to the high grounds of Boston, where to an +undisciplined, courageous, and virtuous yeomanry his presence gave the +stability of system and infused the invincibility of love of country? Or +shall I carry you to the painful scenes of Long Island, York Island, and +New Jersey, when, combating superior and gallant armies, aided by +powerful fleets and led by chiefs high in the roll of fame, he stood the +bulwark of our safety, undismayed by disasters, unchanged by change of +fortune? + +Or will you view him in the precarious fields of Trenton, where deep +gloom, unnerving every arm, reigned triumphant through our thinned, +worn-down, unaided ranks, to himself unknown? Dreadful was the night. It +was about this time of winter; the storm raged; the Delaware, rolling +furiously with floating ice, forbade the approach of man. + +Washington, self-collected, viewed the tremendous scene. His country +called; unappalled by surrounding dangers, he passed to the hostile +shore; he fought, he conquered. The morning sun cheered the American +world. Our country rose on the event, and her dauntless chief, pursuing +his blow, completed in the lawns of Princeton what his vast soul had +conceived on the shores of the Delaware. + +Thence to the strong grounds of Morristown he led his small but gallant +band; and through an eventful winter, by the high effort of his genius, +whose matchless force was measurable only by the growth of difficulties, +he held in check formidable hostile legions, conducted by a chief +experienced in the arts of war, and famed for his valor on the ever +memorable Heights of Abraham, where fell Wolfe, Montcalm, and since our +much-lamented Montgomery, all covered with glory. In this fortunate +interval, produced by his masterly conduct, our fathers, ourselves, +animated by his resistless example, rallied around our country's +standard, and continued to follow her beloved chief through the various +and trying scenes to which the destinies of our union led. + +Who is there that has forgotten the vales of Brandywine, the fields of +Germantown, or the plains of Monmouth? Everywhere present, wants of +every kind obstructing, numerous and valiant armies encountering, +himself a host, he assuaged our sufferings, limited our privations, and +upheld our tottering Republic. Shall I display to you the spread of the +fire of his soul, by rehearsing the praises of the hero of Saratoga and +his much-loved compeer of the Carolinas? No; our Washington wears not +borrowed glory. To Gates, to Greene, he gave without reserve the +applause due to their eminent merit; and long may the chiefs of Saratoga +and of Eutaw receive the grateful respect of a grateful people. + +Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and light to his most distant +satellites; and combining the physical and moral force of all within his +sphere, with irresistible weight, he took his course, commiserating +folly, disdaining vice, dismaying treason, and invigorating despondency; +until the auspicious hour arrived when united with the intrepid forces +of a potent and magnanimous ally, he brought to submission the since +conqueror of India; thus finishing his long career of military glory +with a luster corresponding to his great name, and in this, his last act +of war, affixing the seal of fate to our nation's birth.... + +First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, +he was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private +life. Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere, uniform, dignified, +and commanding, his example was edifying to all around him, as were the +effects of that example lasting. + +To his equals he was condescending; to his inferiors, kind; and to the +dear object of his affections, exemplarily tender. Correct throughout, +vice shuddered in his presence, and virtue always felt his fostering +hand; the purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public +virtues. His last scene comported with the whole tenor of his life. +Although in extreme pain, not a sigh, not a groan, escaped him; and with +undisturbed serenity he closed his well-spent life. Such was the man +America has lost! Such was the man for whom our nation mourns! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 52: By Henry Lee of Virginia. Extract from an oration +delivered in the House of Representatives, 1799.] + + + + +THREE GREAT AMERICAN POEMS + + +I + +One day when Dr. Peter Bryant of Cummington, Massachusetts, was looking +through his writing desk, he found a small package of papers on which +some verses were written. He recognized the neat, legible handwriting as +that of his son, and he paused to open the papers and read. Presently, +he called aloud to his wife, "Here, Sallie, just listen to this poem +which Cullen has written!" + +He began to read, and as he read, the proud mother listened with tears +in her eyes. "Isn't that grand?" she cried. "I've always told you that +Cullen would be a poet. And now just think what a pity it is that he +must give up going to Yale College and settle down to the study of law!" + +"Yes, wife," responded Dr. Bryant, "it is to be regretted. But people +with small means cannot always educate their children as they wish. A +lawyer is a better breadwinner than most poets are, and I am satisfied +that our boy will be a successful lawyer." + +"Of course he will," said Mrs. Bryant; "he will succeed at anything he +may undertake. But that poem--why, Wordsworth never wrote anything half +so grand or beautiful. What is the title?" + +"Thanatopsis." + +"Thanatopsis? I wonder what it means." + +"It is from two Greek words, and means 'A View of Death.' I have half a +notion to take the poem to Boston with me next winter. I want to show it +to my friend Mr. Philips." + +"Oh, do; and take some of Cullen's other poems with it. Perhaps he might +think some of them good enough to publish." + +Dr. Peter Bryant was at that time a member of the senate in the +Massachusetts general assembly. When the time came for the meeting of +the assembly he went up to Boston, and he did not forget to take several +of his son's poems with him. The _North American Review_ was a great +magazine in those days, and Dr. Bryant was well acquainted with Mr. +Philips, one of its editors. He called at the office of the _Review_, +and not finding Mr. Philips, he left the package of manuscript with his +name written upon it. + +When Mr. Philips returned he found the package, and after reading the +poems concluded that Dr. Bryant had written "Thanatopsis," and that the +others were probably by his son Cullen. + +"It is a remarkable poem--a remarkable poem," he said, as he showed it +to his two fellow-editors. "We have never published anything better in +the _Review_," he said, and he began to read it to them. + +When he had finished, one of them, Richard Henry Dana, who was himself a +poet, said doubtingly: + +"Mr. Philips, you have been imposed upon. There is no person in America +who can write a poem like that." + +"Ah, but I know the man who wrote it," answered Mr. Philips. "He is in +the state senate, and he isn't a man who would impose upon any person." + +"Well, I must have a look at the man who can write such lines as those," +said Mr. Dana. + +He went to the statehouse, and to the senate chamber, and asked to see +Senator Bryant. A tall, gray-bearded man was pointed out to him. Mr. +Dana looked at him for a few minutes and then said to himself, "He has a +fine head; but he is not the man who could write 'Thanatopsis'" So +without speaking to him he returned to his office. + +Mr. Philips, still full of enthusiasm, soon had an interview with Dr. +Bryant, and learned the truth in regard to the authorship of the poem. +It was printed in the next issue of the _North American Review_. It was +the first great poem ever produced in America; it was the work of a +young man not eighteen years of age, and it is without doubt the +greatest poem ever written by one so young. But let us read it. + + +THANATOPSIS + + To him who in the love of Nature holds + Communion with her visible forms, she speaks + A various language; for his gayer hours + She has a voice of gladness, and a smile + And eloquence of beauty, and she glides + Into his darker musings with a mild + And healing sympathy, that steals away + Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts + Of the last bitter hour come like a blight + Over thy spirit, and sad images + Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, + And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, + Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, + Go forth, under the open sky, and list + To Nature's teachings, while from all around-- + Earth and her waters, and the depths of air-- + Comes a still voice: + + Yet a few days, and thee + The all-beholding sun shall see no more + In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, + Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, + Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist + Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim + Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; + And, lost each human trace, surrendering up + Thine individual being, shalt thou go + To mix forever with the elements, + To be a brother to the insensible rock + And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain + Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak + Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold. + + Yet not to thine eternal resting place + Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish + Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down + With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings, + The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good, + Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, + All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills + Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun--the vales + Stretching in pensive quietness between-- + The venerable woods--rivers that move + In majesty, and the complaining brooks + That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, + Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste-- + Are but the solemn decorations all + Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, + The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, + Are shining on the sad abodes of death, + Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread + The globe are but a handful to the tribes + That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings + Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, + Or lose thyself in the continuous woods + Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound + Save his own dashings,--yet the dead are there; + And millions in those solitudes, since first + The flight of years began, have laid them down + In their last sleep,--the dead reign there alone. + So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw + In silence from the living, and no friend + Take note of thy departure? All that breathe + Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh + When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care + Plod on, and each one as before will chase + His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave + Their mirth and their employments and shall come + And make their bed with thee. As the long train + Of ages glides away, the sons of men, + The youth in life's fresh spring, and he who goes + In the full strength of years, matron and maid, + The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man, + Shall one by one be gathered to thy side + By those who in their turn shall follow them. + + So live, that when thy summons comes to join + The innumerable caravan that moves + To the pale realms of shade, 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. + + EXPRESSION: Observe that this poem is written in blank verse. In + what respects does it differ from other forms of verse? Read it + with great care, observing the marks of punctuation and giving to + each passage the proper inflections and emphasis. Compare it with + some other poems you have read. + + +II + +One Sunday evening, in the summer of 1848, Edgar Allan Poe was visiting +at the house of a friend in New York city. The day was warm, and the +windows of the conservatory where he was sitting were thrown wide open +to admit the breeze. Mr. Poe was very despondent because of many sorrows +and disappointments, and he was plainly annoyed by the sound of some +near-by church bells pealing the hour of worship. + +"I have made an agreement with a publisher to write a poem for him," he +said, "but I have no inspiration for such a task. What shall I do?" + +His friend Mrs. Shew gave him an encouraging reply, and invited him to +drink tea with her. Then she placed paper and ink before him and +suggested that, if he would try to write, the required inspiration would +come. + +"No," he answered; "I so dislike the noise of bells to-night, I cannot +write. I have no subject--I am exhausted." + +Mrs. Shew then wrote at the top of the sheet of paper, _The Bells, by E. +A. Poe_, and added a single line as a beginning: + + "The bells, the little silver bells." + +The poet accepted the suggestion, and after some effort finished the +first stanza. Then Mrs. Shew wrote another line: + + "The heavy iron bells." + +This idea was also elaborated by Mr. Poe, who copied off the two stanzas +and entitled them _The Bells, by Mrs. M. L. Shew_. He went home, +pondering deeply upon the subject; the required inspiration was not long +lacking; and in a few days the completed poem was ready to be submitted +to the publisher. + + +THE BELLS + + Hear the sledges with the bells-- + Silver bells! + What a world of merriment their melody foretells! + How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, + In the icy air of night! + While the stars that oversprinkle + All the heavens seem to twinkle + With a crystalline delight, + Keeping time, time, time, + In a sort of Runic rime, + To the tintinnabulation that so musically swells + From the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells-- + From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. + + Hear the mellow wedding bells-- + Golden bells! + What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! + Through the balmy air of night + How they ring out their delight! + From the molten-golden notes, + And all in tune, + What a liquid ditty floats + To the turtledove that listens while she gloats + On the moon! + + Oh, from out the sounding cells, + What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! + How it swells! + How it dwells + On the Future! how it tells + Of the rapture that impels + To the swinging and the ringing + Of the bells, bells, bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells-- + To the riming and the chiming of the bells! + + Hear the loud alarum bells-- + Brazen bells! + What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! + In the startled ear of night + How they scream out their affright! + Too much horrified to speak, + They can only shriek, shriek, + Out of tune, + In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, + In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire + Leaping higher, higher, higher, + With a desperate desire + And a resolute endeavor + Now--now to sit or never, + By the side of the pale-faced moon. + Oh, the bells, bells, bells, + What a tale their terror tells + Of despair! + How they clang and crash and roar! + What a horror they outpour + On the bosom of the palpitating air! + Yet the ear it fully knows, + By the twanging + And the clanging, + How the danger ebbs and flows; + Yet the ear distinctly tells, + In the jangling + And the wrangling, + How the danger sinks and swells, + By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, + Of the bells, + Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells! + In the clamor and the clangor of the bells. + + Hear the tolling of the bells-- + Iron bells! + What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! + In the silence of the night, + How we shiver with affright + At the melancholy menace of their tone! + For every sound that floats + From the rust within their throats + Is a groan. + And the people--ah, the people-- + They that dwell up in the steeple, + All alone, + And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, + In that muffled monotone, + Feel a glory in so rolling + On the human heart a stone: + They are neither man nor woman; + They are neither brute nor human; + They are ghouls: + And their king it is who tolls; + And he rolls, rolls, rolls, + Rolls + A pæan from the bells! + And his merry bosom swells + With the pæan of the bells, + And he dances and he yells, + Keeping time, time, time, + In a sort of Runic rime, + To the pæan of the bells-- + Of the bells: + Keeping time, time, time, + In a sort of Runic rime, + To the throbbing of the bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells-- + To the sobbing of the bells; + Keeping time, time, time, + As he knells, knells, knells, + In a happy Runic rime, + To the rolling of the bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells,-- + To the tolling of the bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells-- + To the moaning and the groaning of the bells! + + +III + +In the early part of the nineteenth century Fitz-Greene Halleck was +regarded as one of the greatest of American poets. He is now, however, +remembered chiefly as the author of a single poem, "Marco Bozzaris," +published in 1827. This poem has been described, perhaps justly, as "the +best martial lyric in the English language." + +It was written at a time when the people of Greece were fighting for +their independence; and it celebrates the heroism of the young Greek +patriot, Marco Bozzaris, who was killed while leading a desperate but +successful night attack upon the Turks, August 20, 1823. As here +presented, it is slightly abridged. + + +MARCO BOZZARIS + + At midnight, in his guarded tent, + The Turk was dreaming of the hour + When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, + Should tremble at his power: + In dreams, through camp and court, he bore + The trophies of a conqueror; + In dreams his song of triumph heard; + Then wore his monarch's signet ring: + Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king; + As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, + As Eden's garden bird. + + At midnight, in the forest shades, + Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, + True as the steel of their tried blades, + Heroes in heart and hand. + There had the Persian's thousands stood, + There had the glad earth drunk their blood + On old Platæa's day; + And now there breathed that haunted air + The sons of sires who conquered there, + With arm to strike and soul to dare, + As quick, as far as they. + + An hour passed on--the Turk awoke; + That bright dream was his last; + He woke--to hear his sentries shriek, + "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!" + He woke--to die midst flame, and smoke, + And shout, and groan, and saber stroke, + And death shots falling thick and fast + As lightnings from the mountain cloud; + And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, + Bozzaris cheer his band: + "Strike--till the last armed foe expires; + Strike--for your altars and your fires; + Strike--for the green graves of your sires; + God--and your native land!" + + They fought--like brave men, long and well; + They piled that ground with Moslem slain, + They conquered--but Bozzaris fell, + Bleeding at every vein. + His few surviving comrades saw + His smile when rang their proud hurrah, + And the red field was won; + Then saw in death his eyelids close + Calmly, as to a night's repose, + Like flowers at set of sun. + + * * * * * + + Bozzaris! with the storied brave + Greece nurtured in her glory's time, + Rest thee--there is no prouder grave, + Even in her own proud clime. + She wore no funeral weeds for thee, + Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume + Like torn branch from death's leafless tree + In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, + The heartless luxury of the tomb; + But she remembers thee as one + Long-loved and for a season gone. + For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, + Her marble wrought, her music breathed; + For thee she rings the birthday bells; + Of thee her babes' first lisping tells; + For thine her evening prayer is said + At palace couch and cottage-bed.... + And she, the mother of thy boys, + Though in her eye and faded cheek + Is read the grief she will not speak, + The memory of her buried joys, + And even she who gave thee birth, + Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth, + Talk of thy doom without a sigh; + For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's: + One of the few, the immortal names, + That were not born to die. + + EXPRESSION: Talk with your teacher about these three poems, and the + proper manner of reading each. Learn all that you can about their + authors. + + + + +THE INDIAN[53] + + +Think of the country for which the Indians fought! Who can blame them? +As Philip looked down from his seat on Mount Hope and beheld the lovely +scene which spread beneath at a summer sunset,--the distant hilltops +blazing with gold, the slanting beams streaming across the waters, the +broad plains, the island groups, the majestic forests,--could he be +blamed, if his heart burned within him, as he beheld it all passing, by +no tardy process, from beneath his control, into the hands of the +stranger? + +As the river chieftains--the lords of the waterfalls and the +mountains--ranged this lovely valley, can it be wondered at, if they +beheld with bitterness the forest disappearing beneath the settler's +ax--the fishing places disturbed by his sawmills? + +Can we not imagine the feelings, with which some strong-minded savage +chief, who should have ascended the summit of the Sugarloaf Mountain, in +company with a friendly settler, contemplating the progress already made +by the white man and marking the gigantic strides with which he was +advancing into the wilderness, should fold his arms, and say:-- + +"White man, there is an eternal war between me and thee. I quit not the +land of my fathers, but with my life. In those woods where I bent my +youthful bow, I will still hunt the deer; over yonder waters I will +still glide unrestrained in my bark canoe; by those dashing waterfalls I +will still lay up my winter's store of food; on these fertile meadows I +will still plant my corn. + +"Stranger! the land is mine. I understand not these paper rights. I gave +not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these broad regions were +purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. They could sell what was +theirs; they could sell no more. How could my father sell that which the +Great Spirit sent me into the world to live upon? He knew not what he +did. + +"The stranger came, a timid suppliant; he asked to lie down on the red +man's bearskin, and warm himself at the red man's fire, and have a +little piece of land to raise corn for his women and children. Now he is +become strong and mighty and bold, and spreads out his parchment over +the whole, and says, 'It is mine!' + +"Stranger, there is no room for us both. The Great Spirit has not made +us to live together. There is poison in the white man's cup; the white +man's dog barks at the red man's heels. + +"If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I fly? Shall I +go to the south, and dwell among the graves of the Pequots? Shall I +wander to the west? The fierce Mohawk--the man-eater--is my foe. Shall +I fly to the east? The great water is before me. No, stranger! Here have +I lived, and here will I die; and if here thou abidest, there is eternal +war between me and thee. + +"Thou hast taught me thy arts of destruction; for that alone I thank +thee. And now take heed to thy steps--the red man is thy foe. + +"When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle past thee. When +thou liest down by night, my knife shall be at thy throat. The noonday +sun shall not discover thy enemy; and the darkness of midnight shall not +protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood. +Thou shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will strew it with ashes. Thou +shalt go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after with the +scalping knife. Thou shalt build, and I will burn--till the white man or +the Indian perish from the land." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 53: By Edward Everett, an American statesman and orator +(1794-1865).] + + EXPRESSION: This selection and also the selections on pages 202, + 209, and 231 are fine examples of American oratory, such as was + practiced by the statesmen and public speakers of the earlier years + of our republic. Learn all that you can about Patrick Henry, Daniel + Webster, Edward Everett, Theodore Parker, and other eminent + orators. Before attempting to read this selection aloud, read it + silently and try to understand every statement or allusion + contained in it. Call to mind all that you have learned in your + histories or elsewhere concerning the Indians and their treatment + by the American colonists. Now read with energy and feeling each + paragraph of this extract from Mr. Everett's oration. Try to make + your hearers understand and appreciate the feelings which are + expressed. + + + + +NATIONAL RETRIBUTION[54] + + +Do you know how empires find their end? + +Yes. The great states eat up the little. As with fish, so with nations. + +Come with me! Let us bring up the awful shadows of empires buried long +ago, and learn a lesson from the tomb. + +Come, old Assyria, with the Ninevitish dove upon thy emerald crown! What +laid thee low? + +Assyria answers: "I fell by my own injustice. Thereby Nineveh and +Babylon came with me to the ground." + +O queenly Persia, flame of the nations! Wherefore art thou so fallen? +thou who trod the people under thee, bridged the Hellespont with ships, +and poured thy temple-wasting millions on the western world? + +Persia answers: "Because I trod the people under me, because I bridged +the Hellespont with ships, and poured my temple-wasting millions on the +western world, I fell by my own misdeeds!" + +And thou, muselike Grecian queen, fairest of all thy classic sisterhood +of states, enchanting yet the world with thy sweet witchery, speaking in +art, and most seductive in song, why liest thou there with thy beauteous +yet dishonored brow reposing on thy broken harp? + +Greece answers: "I loved the loveliness of flesh, embalmed in Parian +stone. I loved the loveliness of thought, and treasured that more than +Parian speech. But the beauty of justice, the loveliness of love, I trod +down to earth. Lo! therefore have I become as those barbarian states, +and one of them." + +O manly, majestic Rome, with thy sevenfold mural crown all broken at thy +feet, why art thou here? 'Twas not injustice brought thee low, for thy +great Book of Law is prefaced with these words, "Justice is the +unchanging, everlasting will to give each man his right." It was not the +saint's ideal. It was the hypocrite's pretense. + +And Rome says: "I made iniquity my law! I trod the nations under me! +Their wealth gilded my palaces, where now thou mayst see the fox and +hear the owl. Wicked men were my cabinet counselors. The flatterer +breathed his poison in my ear. Millions of bondmen wet the soil with +tears and blood! Do you not hear it crying yet to God? Lo here have I my +recompense, tormented with such downfalls as you see. + +"Go back and tell the newborn child who sitteth on the Alleghanies, +laying his either hand upon a tributary sea,--tell him there are rights +which States must keep, or they shall suffer punishment. Tell him there +is a God who hurls to earth the loftiest realm that breaks his just, +eternal law. Warn the young empire, that he come not down, dim and +dishonored, to my shameful tomb. Tell him that Justice is the +unchanging, everlasting will, to give each man his right. I knew this +law. I broke it. Bid him keep it, and be forever safe." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 54: By Theodore Parker, an eminent American clergyman and +author (1810-1860).] + + + + +WHO ARE BLESSED[55] + + +And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was +set, his disciples came unto him. + +And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying: + +Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. + +Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. + +Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. + +Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for +they shall be filled. + +Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. + +Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. + +Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of +God. + +Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for +theirs is the kingdom of heaven. + +Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall +say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. + +Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for +so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. + +Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savor, +wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to +be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. + +Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be +hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a +candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let +your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and +glorify your Father which is in heaven.... + +Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for +a tooth: but I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever +shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if +any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have +thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with +him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow +of thee turn not thou away. + +Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and +hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that +curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which +despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of +your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the +evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 55: From the Gospel of Matthew.] + + + + +LITTLE GEMS FROM THE OLDER POETS + + +I. THE NOBLE NATURE[56] + + It is not growing like a tree + In bulk doth make man better be; + Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, + To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear. + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May, + Although it fall and die that night,-- + It was the plant and flower of light. + In small proportions we just beauties see; + And in short measures life may perfect be. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 56: By Ben Jonson (1573-1637).] + + +II. A CONTENTED MIND[57] + + I weigh not fortune's frown or smile; + I joy not much in earthly joys; + I seek not state, I seek not style; + I am not fond of fancy's toys; + I rest so pleased with what I have, + I wish no more, no more I crave. + + I quake not at the thunder's crack; + I tremble not at noise of war; + I swound not at the news of wrack; + I shrink not at a blazing star; + I fear not loss, I hope not gain, + I envy none, I none disdain. + + I feign not friendship, where I hate; + I fawn not on the great in show; + I prize, I praise a mean estate-- + Neither too lofty nor too low; + This, this is all my choice, my cheer-- + A mind content, a conscience clear. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 57: By Joshua Sylvester (1563-1618).] + + +III. A HAPPY LIFE[58] + + How happy is he born and taught + That serveth not another's will; + Whose armor is his honest thought, + And simple truth his utmost skill; + + Whose passions not his masters are, + Whose soul is still prepared for death, + Not tied unto the world with care + Of public fame, or private breath; + + Who envies none that chance doth raise, + Nor vice; who never understood + How deepest wounds are given by praise; + Nor rules of state, but rules of good. + + This man is freed from servile bands + Of hope to rise or fear to fall; + Lord of himself, though not of lands, + And having nothing, yet hath all. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 58: By Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1639).] + + +IV. SOLITUDE[59] + + Happy the man, whose wish and care + A few paternal acres bound, + Content to breathe his native air + In his own ground. + + Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, + Whose flocks supply him with attire; + Whose trees in summer yield him shade, + In winter, fire. + + Blest, who can unconcern'dly find + Hours, days, and years slide soft away + In health of body, peace of mind, + Quiet by day, + + Sound sleep by night; study and ease + Together mixt, sweet recreation, + And innocence, which most does please + With meditation. + + Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; + Thus unlamented let me die; + Steal from the world, and not a stone + Tell where I lie. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 59: By Alexander Pope (1688-1744).] + + +V. A WISH[60] + + Mine be a cot beside the hill; + A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear; + A willowy brook that turns a mill + With many a fall shall linger near. + + The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch + Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; + Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, + And share my meal, a welcome guest. + + Around my ivied porch shall spring + Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; + And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing + In russet gown and apron blue. + + The village church among the trees, + Where first our marriage vows were given, + With merry peals shall swell the breeze + And point with taper spire to Heaven. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 60: By Samuel Rogers (1763-1855).] + + + EXPRESSION: Which of these poems do you like best? Give reasons for + your preference. What sentiment is emphasized by all of them? What + other pleasant ideas of life are expressed? What mental pictures + are called up by reading the fourth poem? the fifth? What traits of + character are alluded to in the first poem? the second? Now read + each poem aloud, giving to each line and each stanza the thought + which was in the author's mind when he wrote it. + + + + +HOW KING ARTHUR GOT HIS NAME[61] + + +One day at sunset, Snowbird, the young son of a king, came over the brow +of a hill that stepped forward from a dark company of mountains and +leaned over the shoreless sea which fills the West and drowns the North. +All day he had been wandering alone, his mind heavy with wonder over +many things. He had heard strange tales of late, tales about his heroic +father and the royal clan, and how they were not like other men, but +half divine. He had heard, too, of his own destiny,--that he also was to +be a great king. What was Destiny, he wondered.... + +Then, as he wondered, he turned over and over in his mind all the names +he could think of that he might choose for his own; for the time was +come for him to put away the name of his childhood and to take on that +by which he should be known among men. + +He came over the brow of the hill, and out of the way of the mountain +wind, and, being tired, lay down among the heather and stared across the +gray wilderness of the sea. The sun set, and the invisible throwers of +the nets trailed darkness across the waves and up the wild shores and +over the faces of the cliffs. Stars climbed out of shadowy abysses, and +the great chariots of the constellations rode from the West to the East +and from the North to the South. + +His eyes closed, ... but when he opened them again, he saw a great and +kingly figure standing beside him. So great in stature, so splendid in +kingly beauty, was the mysterious one who had so silently joined him, +that he thought this must be one of the gods. + +"Do you know me, my son?" said the kingly stranger. + +The boy looked at him in awe and wonder, but unrecognizingly. + +"Do you not know me, my son?" he heard again ... "for I am your father, +Pendragon. But my home is yonder, and that is why I have come to you as +a vision in a dream ..." and, as he spoke, he pointed to the +constellation of the _Arth_, or Bear, which nightly prowls through the +vast abysses of the polar sky. + +When the boy turned his gaze from the great constellation which hung in +the dark wilderness overhead, he saw that he was alone again. While he +yet wondered in great awe at what he had seen and heard, he felt himself +float like a mist and become like a cloud, rise beyond the brows of the +hills, and ascend the invisible stairways of the sky.... + +It seemed to him thereafter that a swoon came over him, in which he +passed beyond the far-off blazing fires of strange stars. At last, +suddenly, he stood on the verge of _Arth_, _Arth Uthyr_, the Great Bear. +There he saw, with the vision of immortal, not of mortal, eyes, a +company of most noble and majestic figures seated at what he thought a +circular abyss, but which had the semblance of a vast table. Each of +these seven great knights or lordly kings had a star upon his forehead, +and these were stars of the mighty constellation of the Bear which the +boy had seen night after night from his home among the mountains by the +sea. + +It was with a burning throb at his heart that he recognized in the King +of all these kings no other than himself. + +While he looked, in amazement so great that he could hear the pulse of +his heart, as in the silence of a wood one hears the tapping of a +woodpecker, he saw this mighty phantom self rise till he stood towering +over all there, and heard a voice as though an ocean rose and fell +through the eternal silences. + +"Comrades in God," it said, "the time is come when that which is great +shall become small." + +And when the voice was ended, the mighty figure faded in the blue +darkness, and only a great star shone where the uplifted dragon helm had +brushed the roof of heaven. One by one the white lords of the sky +followed in his mysterious way, till once more were to be seen only the +stars of the Bear. + +The boy dreamed that he fell as a falling meteor, and that he floated +over land and sea as a cloud, and then that he sank as mist upon the +hills of his own land. + +A noise of wind stirred in his ears. He rose stumblingly, and stood, +staring around him. He glanced upward and saw the stars of the Great +Bear in their slow march round the Pole.... Then he remembered. + +He went slowly down the hill, his mind heavy with thought. When he was +come to his own place, lo! all the fierce chivalry of the land came out +to meet him; for the archdruid had foretold that the great King to be +had received his mystic initiation among the holy silences of the hills. + +"I am no more Snowbird, the child," the boy said, looking at them +fearless and as though already King. "Henceforth I am Arth-Urthyr,[62] +for my place is in the Great Bear which we see yonder in the north." + +So all there acclaimed him as Arthur, the wondrous one of the stars, the +Great Bear. + +"I am old," said his father, "and soon you shall be King, Arthur, my +son. So ask now a great boon of me and it shall be granted to you." + +Then Arthur remembered his dream. + +"Father and King," he said, "when I am King after you, I shall make a +new order of knights, who shall be pure as the Immortal Ones, and be +tender as women, and simple as little children. But first I ask of you +seven flawless knights to be of my chosen company. To-morrow let the +wood wrights make for me a round table, such as that where we eat our +roasted meats, but round and of a size whereat I and my chosen knights +may sit at ease." + +The king listened, and all there. + +"So be it," said the king. + +Then Arthur chose the seven flawless knights, and called them to him. +"Ye are now Children of the Great Bear," he said, "and comrades and +liegemen to me, Arthur, who shall be King of the West. + +"And ye shall be known as the Knights of the Round Table. But no man +shall make a mock of that name and live: and in the end that name shall +be so great in the mouths and minds of men that they shall consider no +glory of the world to be so great as to be the youngest and frailest of +that knighthood." + +And that is how Arthur, who three years later became King of the West, +read the rune of the stars that are called the Great Bear, and took +their name upon him, and from the strongest and purest and noblest of +the land made Knighthood, such as the world had not seen, such as the +world since has not seen. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 61: A Gaelic legend, by Fiona Macleod.] + +[Footnote 62: Pronounced _Arth-Ur_. In the ancient British language, +_Arth_ means Bear, and _Urthyr_, great, wondrous.] + + EXPRESSION: Read this selection very carefully to get at the true + meaning of each sentence and each thought. What peculiarities do + you notice in the style of the language employed? Talk about King + Arthur, and tell what you have learned elsewhere about him and his + knights of the Round Table. In what respects does this legend + differ from some other accounts of his boyhood? Now reread the + selection, picturing in your mind the peculiarities of place and + time. + + + + +ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CÆSAR'S DEAD BODY[63] + + + _Antony._ Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears: + I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him. + The evil that men do lives after them; + The good is oft interrèd with their bones; + So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus + Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious: + If it were so, it was a grievous fault, + And grievously hath Cæsar answered it. + Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest-- + For Brutus is an honorable man; + So are they all, all honorable men-- + Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral. + He was my friend, faithful and just to me; + But Brutus says he was ambitious, + And Brutus is an honorable man. + He hath brought many captives home to Rome, + Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; + Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious? + When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept; + Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, + And Brutus is an honorable man. + You all did see, that on the Lupercal, + I thrice presented him a kingly crown, + Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, + And, sure, he is an honorable man. + I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, + But here I am to speak what I do know. + You all did love him once, not without cause; + What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him? + O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, + And men have lost their reason.--Bear with me; + My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar, + And I must pause till it come back to me. + + But yesterday the word of Cæsar might + Have stood against the world; now lies he there, + And none so poor to do him reverence. + O masters! If I were disposed to stir + Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, + I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, + Who, you all know, are honorable men. + I will not do them wrong; I rather choose + To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, + Than I will wrong such honorable men. + + But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar, + I found it in his closet; 'tis his will. + Let but the commons hear this testament,-- + Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,-- + And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds, + And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; + Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, + And, dying, mention it within their wills, + Bequeathing it as a rich legacy + Unto their issue. + + _Citizen._ We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony. + + _All._ The will, the will! we will hear Cæsar's will. + + _Ant._ Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; + It is not meet you know how Cæsar loved you. + You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; + And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar, + It will inflame you, it will make you mad. + 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; + For, if you should, oh, what would come of it! + + _Cit._ Read the will! we'll hear it, Antony! + You shall read the will! Cæsar's will! + + _Ant._ Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? + I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. + I fear I wrong the honorable men + Whose daggers have stabbed Cæsar. I do fear it. + + _Cit._ They were traitors! honorable men! + + _All._ The will! the testament! + + _Ant._ You will compel me, then, to read the will? + Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar, + And let me show you him that made the will. + Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? + + _All._ Come down. + + _2 Citizen._ Descend. You shall have leave. + +[Illustration: "You all do know this mantle."] + +(_Antony comes down from the pulpit._) + + _Ant._ If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. + You all do know this mantle; I remember + The first time ever Cæsar put it on. + 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, + That day he overcame the Nervii. + Look! in this place, ran Cassius's dagger through; + See what a rent the envious Casca made; + Through this, the well-belovèd Brutus stabbed; + And, as he plucked his cursèd steel away, + Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it, + As rushing out of doors, to be resolved + If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no; + For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.-- + Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!-- + + This was the most unkindest cut of all; + For, when the noble Cæsar saw him stab, + Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, + Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart; + And, in his mantle muffling up his face, + Even at the base of Pompey's statua, + Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell. + + Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen! + Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, + Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. + Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you feel + The dint of pity; these are gracious drops. + Kind souls, What! weep you when you but behold + Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here, + Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors. + + Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up + To such a sudden flood of mutiny. + They that have done this deed are honorable. + What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, + That made them do it; they are wise and honorable, + And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. + + I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. + I am no orator, as Brutus is, + But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, + That love my friend; and that they know full well + That gave me public leave to speak of him. + For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, + Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, + To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; + I tell you that which you yourselves do know; + Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, + And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, + And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony + Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue + In every wound of Cæsar that should move + The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 63: From "Julius Cæsar" by William Shakespeare (1564-1616).] + + + + +SELECTIONS TO BE MEMORIZED + + +I. THE PRAYER PERFECT[64] + + Dear Lord! kind Lord! + Gracious Lord! I pray + Thou wilt look on all I love, + Tenderly to-day! + Weed their hearts of weariness; + Scatter every care + Down a wake of angel-wings, + Winnowing the air. + + Bring unto the sorrowing + All release from pain; + Let the lips of laughter + Overflow again; + And with all the needy + Oh, divide, I pray, + This vast treasure of content + That is mine to-day! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 64: From "Rhymes of Childhood," by James Whitcomb Riley, +copyright, 1890. Used by special permission of the publishers, The +Bobbs-Merrill Company.] + + +II. BE JUST AND FEAR NOT[65] + + Be just and fear not; + Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 65: By William Shakespeare.] + + +III. IF I CAN LIVE[66] + + If I can live + To make some pale face brighter and to give + A second luster to some tear-dimmed eye, + Or e'en impart + One throb of comfort to an aching heart, + Or cheer some wayworn soul in passing by; + If I can lend + A strong hand to the falling, or defend + The right against one single envious strain, + My life, though bare, + Perhaps, of much that seemeth dear and fair + To us of earth, will not have been in vain. + The purest joy, + Most near to heaven, far from earth's alloy, + Is bidding cloud give way to sun and shine; + And 'twill be well + If on that day of days the angels tell + Of me, "She did her best for one of Thine." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 66: Author unknown.] + + +IV. THE BUGLE SONG[67] + + The splendor falls on castle walls + And snowy summits old in story: + The long light shakes across the lakes, + And the wild cataract leaps in glory. + Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, + Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. + + O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, + And thinner, dearer, farther going! + O sweet and far from cliff and scar + The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! + Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: + Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. + + O love, they die in yon rich sky, + They faint on hill or field or river; + Our echoes roll from soul to soul, + And grow for ever and for ever. + Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, + And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 67: By Alfred Tennyson.] + + +V. THE NINETIETH PSALM + +Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. + +Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the +earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. + +Thou turns man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men. + +For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, +and as a watch in the night. + +Thou carried them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the +morning they are like grass which groweth up. + +In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut +down, and withereth. + +For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled. + +Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light +of thy countenance. + +For all our days are passed away in thy wrath; we spend our years as a +tale that is told. + +The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of +strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and +sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. + +Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, so is +thy wrath. + +So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto +wisdom.... + +Oh, satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all +our days.... + +Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their +children. + + +VI. RECESSIONAL[68] + + 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, + A humble and a contrite heart. + 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. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 68: By Rudyard Kipling.] + + + + +PROPER NAMES + + + Ad i ron'dacks + + Æ t[=o]'li a + + Ag a mem'non + + A lon'zo + + A m[=e]'li a + + An a t[=o]'li a + + An'to ny + + A pol'lo + + Ar'g[=i]ve + + Ar'thur + + Assisi ([:a]s s[=e] z[=e]) + + As s[)y]r'i a + + Bar'ba ra + + Ba v[=a]'ri a + + Ber'lin + + Bevagno (ba v[=a]n'yo) + + Boetia (be [=o]'sh[)i] a) + + Bo'na parte + + Bozzaris (bo z[)a]r'is) + + Brit'ta ny + + Bru'tus + + Bun'yan + + Bur'gun dy + + Bysshe (b[)i]sh) + + Ca'diz + + Cal e do'ni a + + Ca thay' + + Cau'dle + + Charn'wood + + Chat ta hoo'chee + + Chi[+s]'_w_ick + + Col i s[=e]'um + + Cop'per field + + C[=o]v'er ley + + Cr[=e]a'kle + + Cris'sa + + D[=a]'na + + D[)a]n'ube + + D[=a]v'en port + + Delft + + Domitian (do m[)i]sh'i an) + + Eb en [=e]'zer + + Española ([)e]s pan y[=o]'la) + + Eu'taw + + Fer nan'do + + F[)e]z'z[)i] wig + + Fran'cis + + Gal i l[=e]'o + + Get'tys burg + + Gib'son + + Gu[:a] n[:a] h[)a]'n[:i] + + Hab'er sham + + H[=a]'man + + H[:a]m'elin + + Har'le quin + + H[)e]l'las + + Hel'les pont + + Hu'bert + + Ja m[=a]_i_'ca + + Je m[=i]'ma + + John'son + + Juana (hw[:a]'na) + + Knick'erbock er + + La n_i_[=e]r' + + Lannes (l[:a]n) + + Leg'horn + + Locks'ley + + Lor raine' + + Mag ne'si a + + M[)a]r'i on + + Mas'sa soit + + M[)i]c_h_'ael mas + + Mon'mouth + + Mont calm' + + Mon te bel'lo + + Mont g[:o]m'er y + + Na p[=o]'le on + + Need'wood + + Nic_h_'o las + + Nin'e veh + + Or'e gon + + O res't[=e]s + + Pal'las + + Phoe'bus + + Pinzon (p[=e]n th[=o]n') + + Pla tæ'a + + Po to'mac + + Pro vence' (-v[)a]ns) + + R[)a]ph'a el + + R[)a]t'is bon + + Rieti (r[=e] [)e]'t[=e]) + + Rog'er + + Rouen (r[=o][=o] [:a]n') + + Sa'lem + + San'c_h_ez + + San Sal va dor' + + San tee' + + Sar a to'ga + + Sed'ley + + Shel'ley + + Spoun'cer + + T[=o]'bit + + T[=o]'phet + + Tul'l[)i] ver + + T[=y]re + + Um'br[)i] a + + V[)a]l'en t[=i]ne + + Wake' field + + Y[+s]'a bel + + + + +LIST OF AUTHORS + +(Place of birth in parentheses. Title of one noted book in italics. +Title of most famous poem in quotation marks.) + + +_Browning, Robert._ English poet. _The Ring and the Book._ (Born near +London.) Lived in Italy. 1812-1889. + +_Bryant, William Cullen._ American poet and journalist. "Thanatopsis." +(Massachusetts.) New York. 1794-1878. + +_Buckley, Arabella B._ (_Mrs. Fisher_). English writer on popular +science. (Brighton, England.) 1840----. + +_Bunyan, John._ English preacher and writer. _Pilgrim's Progress._ +(Bedford.) London. 1628-1688. + +_Burns, Robert._ Scottish poet. "Tam O'Shanter." (Alloway.) Dumfries. +1759-1796. + +_Campbell, Thomas._ Scottish poet. "Hohenlinden." (Glasgow.) 1777-1844. + +_Canton, William._ English journalist and writer. 1845----. + +_Carnegie (k[:a]r n[)e]g'[)i]), Andrew._ American manufacturer and +philanthropist. (Scotland.) New York. 1837----. + +_Cherry, Andrew._ Irish poet and dramatist. _All for Fame._ (Ireland.) +1762-1812. + +_Collins, William._ English poet. (Chichester.) 1721-1759. + +_Columbus, Christopher._ The discoverer of America. (Genoa, Italy.) +Spain. 1446(?)-1506. + +_Cook, Eliza._ English poet. "The Old Arm-Chair." 1818-1889. + +_Dickens, Charles._ English novelist. _David Copperfield._ (Portsmouth.) +London. 1812-1870. + +_Domett (d[)o]m'et), Alfred._ English poet and statesman. "Christmas +Hymn." 1811-1887. + +_Dumas (d[:u] m[:a]'), Alexandre._ French novelist and dramatist. _The +Count of Monte Cristo._ 1802-1870. + +_Eliot, George (Mrs. Mary Ann Evans Cross)._ English novelist. _The Mill +on the Floss._ 1819-1880. + +_Emerson, Ralph Waldo._ American philosopher and poet. _Essays._ +(Boston.) 1803-1882. + +_Everett, Edward._ American statesman and orator. _Orations and +Speeches._ (Massachusetts.) 1794-1865. + +_Fields, James T._ American publisher and author. (New Hampshire.) +Massachusetts. 1817-1881. + +_Giberne, Agnes._ English writer on scientific subjects. + +_Goldsmith, Oliver._ English poet and novelist. _Vicar of Wakefield._ +(Ireland.) 1728-1774. + +_Halleck, Fitz-Greene._ American poet. "Marco Bozzaris." (Connecticut.) +1790-1867. + +_Hawthorne, Nathaniel._ American novelist. _The Wonder Book._ +(Massachusetts.) 1804-1864. + +_Henry, Patrick._ American patriot. (Virginia.) 1736-1799. + +_Herrick, Robert._ English poet. 1591-1674. + +_Holmes, Oliver Wendell._ American author. _Autocrat of the Breakfast +Table._ (Massachusetts.) 1809-1894. + +_Hugo, Victor._ French novelist and poet. 1802-1885. + +_Hunt, Leigh (James Henry Leigh Hunt)._ English essayist and poet. "Abou +ben Adhem." 1784-1859. + +_Irving, Washington._ American prose writer. _The Sketch Book._ (New +York.) 1783-1859. + +_Jerrold, Douglas William._ English humorist. _Mrs. Caudle's Curtain +Lectures._ (London.) 1803-1857. + +_Jonson, Ben._ English dramatist. 1573-1637. + +_Kipling, Rudyard._ English writer. _The Jungle Book._ (Bombay, India.) +England. 1865----. + +_Lamb, Charles._ English essayist. (London.) 1775-1834. + +_Lanier, Sidney._ American musician and author. _Poems._ (Georgia.) +Maryland. 1842-1881. + +_Lee, Henry._ American general, father of Robert E. Lee. (Virginia.) +1756-1818. + +_Lincoln, Abraham._ Sixteenth president of the United States. +(Kentucky.) Illinois. 1809-1865. + +_Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth._ American poet. _Poems._ (Maine.) +Massachusetts. 1807-1882. + +_Lowell, James Russell._ American poet and essayist. (Massachusetts.) +1819-1891. + +_Macleod, Fiona (True name William Sharp)._ Scottish poet and +story-writer. 1856-1905. + +_Mitchell, Donald G._ American essayist. _Reveries of a Bachelor._ +(Connecticut.) 1822-1908. + +_Parker, Theodore._ American clergyman and author. (Massachusetts.) +1810-1860. + +_Poe, Edgar Allan._ American poet and story-writer. "The Raven." +(Massachusetts.) Virginia. 1809-1849. + +_Pope, Alexander._ English poet. (London.) 1688-1744. + +_Proctor, Richard A._ English astronomer. 1837-1888. + +_Riley, James Whitcomb._ American poet. (Indiana.) 1852----. + +_Rogers, Samuel._ English poet. (London.) 1763-1855. + +_Ryan, Abram J._ American clergyman and poet. (Virginia.) Georgia; +Kentucky. 1839-1886. + +_Scott, Sir Walter._ Scottish poet and novelist. _Ivanhoe._ (Edinburgh.) +1771-1832. + +_Shakespeare, William._ The greatest of English dramatists. +(Stratford-on-Avon.) 1564-1616. + +_Sharp, William._ See Macleod, Fiona. + +_Shelley, Percy Bysshe (b[)i]sh)._ English poet. _Poems._ 1792-1822. + +_Simms, William Gilmore._ American novelist and poet. (South Carolina.) +1806-1870. + +_Sophocles (s[)o]f'o kl[=e]z)._ Greek tragic poet. 495-406 B.C. + +_Sylvester, Joshua._ English poet. 1563-1618. + +_Tennyson, Alfred._ English poet. _In Memoriam._ (Lincolnshire.) +1809-1892. + +_Thackeray, William Makepeace._ English novelist and critic. (Calcutta, +India.) London. 1811-1863. + +_Timrod, Henry._ American poet. (South Carolina.) 1829-1867. + +_Whitman, Walt._ American poet. _Leaves of Grass._ (New York.) +Washington, D.C.; New Jersey. 1819-1892. + +_Whittier, John Greenleaf._ American poet. _Poems._ (Massachusetts.) +1807-1892. + +_Winslow, Edward._ Governor of Plymouth colony. (Worcestershire, Eng.) +Plymouth, Massachusetts. 1595-1655. + +_Wotton, Sir Henry._ English poet. 1568-1639. + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Eighth Reader, by James Baldwin and Ida C. 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Bender + +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: Eighth Reader + +Author: James Baldwin + Ida C. Bender + +Release Date: November 28, 2009 [EBook #30559] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIGHTH READER *** + + + + +Produced by Carla Foust and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="transnote"> +<h3>Transcriber's note</h3> +<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetter errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the authors' words and +intent.</p> + +<p>This e-text uses a number of special characters, including:</p> +<ul> +<li>letters with macrons: ā ē ī ō ȳ</li> +<li>letters with breves: ă ĕ ĭ ŏ y̆</li> +<li>letters with umlauts: ä ï ö ü</li> +<li>letter s with tack up below: s̝</li> +</ul> + + +<p>If these do not display correctly, make sure that your browser's file encoding is set to UTF-8. You may also need to change +your default font.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 426px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="426" height="650" alt="David Copperfield at Salem House +(See page 23)" title="" /> +<span class="caption">David Copperfield at Salem House<br /> +(See page <a href="#MY_LAST_DAY_AT_SALEM_HOUSE2">23</a>).</span> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="fm2">READING WITH EXPRESSION</p> + +<h1>EIGHTH READER</h1> + +<p class="fm3">BY<br /><br /></p> + +<p class="fm2">JAMES BALDWIN<br /></p> + +<p class="fm4">AUTHOR OF "SCHOOL READING BY GRADES—BALDWIN'S READERS,"<br /> +"HARPER'S READERS," ETC.</p> + +<p class="fm3">AND<br /></p> + +<p class="fm2">IDA C. BENDER</p> + +<p class="fm4">SUPERVISOR OF PRIMARY GRADES, BUFFALO, NEW YORK<br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="fm3"><i>EIGHT-BOOK SERIES</i><br /></p> + +<p class="fm3">NEW YORK ·:· CINCINNATI ·:· CHICAGO</p> +<p class="fm2">AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="fm4"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1911, by</span><br /> + +AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY.<br /> + +<span class="smcap">Entered at Stationers' Hall, London.</span><br /> + +B. & B. EIGHTH READER.<br /> + +W. P. 2</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_THE_TEACHER" id="TO_THE_TEACHER"></a>TO THE TEACHER</h2> + + +<p>The paramount design of this series of School Readers is to help young +people to acquire the art and the habit of reading well—that is, of +interpreting the printed page in such manner as to give pleasure and +instruction to themselves and to those who listen to them. In his eighth +year at school the pupil is supposed to be able to read, with ease and +with some degree of fluency, anything in the English language that may +come to his hand; but, that he may read always with the understanding +and in a manner pleasing to his hearers and satisfactory to himself, he +must still have daily systematic practice in the rendering of selections +not too difficult for comprehension and yet embracing various styles of +literary workmanship and illustrating the different forms of English +composition. The contents of this volume have been chosen and arranged +to supply—or, where not supplying, to suggest—the materials for this +kind of practice.</p> + +<p>Particular attention is called both to the high quality and to the wide +variety of the selections herein presented. They include specimens of +many styles of literary workmanship—the products of the best thought of +modern times. It is believed that their study will not only prove +interesting to pupils, but will inspire them with a desire to read still +more upon the same subjects or from the works of the same authors; for +it is only by loving books and learning to know them that any one can +become a really good reader.</p> + +<p>The pupils should be encouraged to seek for and point out the particular +passages in each selection that are distinguished for their beauty, +their truth, or their peculiar adaptability to the purpose in view. The +habit should be cultivated of looking for and enjoying the admirable +qualities of any worthy literary production; and special attention +should be given to the style of writing which characterizes and gives +value to the works of various authors. These points should be the +subjects of daily discussions between teacher and pupils.</p> + +<p>The notes under the head of "Expression," which follow many of the +lessons, are intended, not only to aid in securing correctness of +expression, but also to afford suggestions for the appreciative reading +of the selections and an intelligent comparison of their literary +peculiarities. In the study of new, difficult, or unusual words, the +pupils should invariably refer to the dictionary.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + + + +<table summary="CONTENTS"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#BROTHER_AND_SISTER1">Brother and Sister</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>George Eliot</i></td> +<td class="tdr">11</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#MY_LAST_DAY_AT_SALEM_HOUSE2">My Last Day at Salem House</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Charles Dickens</i></td> +<td class="tdr">22</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_DEPARTURE_FROM_MISS_PINKERTONS3">The Departure from Miss Pinkerton's</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>W. M. Thackeray</i></td> +<td class="tdr">27</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#TWO_GEMS_FROM_BROWNING">Two Gems from Browning:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP">Incident of the French Camp</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Robert Browning</i></td> +<td class="tdr">36</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#DOG_TRAY">Dog Tray</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Robert Browning</i></td> +<td class="tdr">41</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_DISCOVERY_OF_AMERICA6">The Discovery of America</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Washington Irving</i></td> +<td class="tdr">43</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_GLOVE_AND_THE_LIONS7">The Glove and the Lions</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Leigh Hunt</i></td> +<td class="tdr">48</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#ST._FRANCIS_THE_GENTLE">St. Francis, the Gentle</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>William Canton</i></td> +<td class="tdr">51</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_SERMON_OF_ST._FRANCIS">The Sermon of St. Francis</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Henry W. Longfellow</i></td> +<td class="tdr">54</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#IN_THE_WOODS">In the Woods</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>John Burroughs</i></td> +<td class="tdr">56</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#BEES_AND_FLOWERS">Bees and Flowers</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>John Burroughs</i></td> +<td class="tdr">59</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#SONG_OF_THE_RIVER">Song of the River</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Abram J. Ryan</i></td> +<td class="tdr">64</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#SONG_OF_THE_CHATTAHOOCHEE">Song of the Chattahoochee</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Sidney Lanier</i></td> +<td class="tdr">66</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#WAR_AND_PEACE">War and Peace:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#WAR_AS_THE_MOTHER_OF_VALOR_AND_CIVILIZATION">War as the Mother of Valor and Civilization</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Andrew Carnegie</i></td> +<td class="tdr">68</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#FRIENDSHIP_AMONG_NATIONS">Friendship among Nations</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Victor Hugo</i></td> +<td class="tdr">71</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">III. <a href="#SOLDIER_REST">Soldier, Rest</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td> +<td class="tdr">74</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">IV. <a href="#THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM">The Soldier's Dream</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Thomas Campbell</i></td> +<td class="tdr">75</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> V. <a href="#HOW_SLEEP_THE_BRAVE">How Sleep the Brave?</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>William Collins</i></td> +<td class="tdr">76</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#EARLY_TIMES_IN_NEW_YORK">Early Times in New York</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Washington Irving</i></td> +<td class="tdr">77</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#A_WINTER_EVENING_IN_OLD_NEW_ENGLAND">A Winter Evening in Old New England</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>J. G. Whittier</i></td> +<td class="tdr">82</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_OLD-FASHIONED_THANKSGIVING">The Old-fashioned Thanksgiving</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Donald G. Mitchell</i></td> +<td class="tdr">84</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#A_THANKSGIVING">A Thanksgiving</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Robert Herrick</i></td> +<td class="tdr">92</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#FIRST_DAYS_AT_WAKEFIELD">First Days at Wakefield</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Oliver Goldsmith</i></td> +<td class="tdr">94</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#DOUBTING_CASTLE">Doubting Castle</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>John Bunyan</i></td> +<td class="tdr">100</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#SHOOTING_WITH_THE_LONGBOW">Shooting with the Longbow</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td> +<td class="tdr">108</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#A_CHRISTMAS_HYMN">A Christmas Hymn</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Alfred Domett</i></td> +<td class="tdr">117</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#CHRISTMAS_EVE_AT_FEZZIWIGS">Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Charles Dickens</i></td> +<td class="tdr">120</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_CHRISTMAS_HOLLY">The Christmas Holly</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Eliza Cook</i></td> +<td class="tdr">124</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_NEW_YEARS_DINNER_PARTY">The New Year's Dinner Party</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Charles Lamb</i></td> +<td class="tdr">125</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_TOWN_PUMP">The Town Pump</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Nathaniel Hawthorne</i></td> +<td class="tdr">128</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#COME_UP_FROM_THE_FIELDS_FATHER">Come up from the Fields, Father</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Walt Whitman</i></td> +<td class="tdr">135</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_ADDRESS_AT_GETTYSBURG">The Address at Gettysburg</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Abraham Lincoln</i></td> +<td class="tdr">139</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#ODE_TO_THE_CONFEDERATE_DEAD">Ode to the Confederate Dead</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Henry Timrod</i></td> +<td class="tdr">140</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_CHARIOT_RACE">The Chariot Race</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>From Sophocles</i></td> +<td class="tdr">141</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_COLISEUM_AT_MIDNIGHT">The Coliseum at Midnight</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Henry W. Longfellow</i></td> +<td class="tdr">145</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_DEACONS_MASTERPIECE">The Deacon's Masterpiece</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Oliver Wendell Holmes</i></td> +<td class="tdr">147</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#DOGS_AND_CATS">Dogs and Cats</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Alexandre Dumas</i></td> +<td class="tdr">154</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_OWL_CRITIC">The Owl Critic</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>James T. Fields</i></td> +<td class="tdr">157</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#MRS_CAUDLES_UMBRELLA_LECTURE">Mrs. Caudle's Umbrella Lecture</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Douglas William Jerrold</i></td> +<td class="tdr">161</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_DARK_DAY_IN_CONNECTICUT">The Dark Day in Connecticut</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>J. G. Whittier</i></td> +<td class="tdr">164</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#TWO_INTERESTING_LETTERS">Two Interesting Letters:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#COLUMBUS_TO_THE_LORD_TREASURER_OF_SPAIN">Columbus to the Lord Treasurer of Spain</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr">167</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#GOVERNOR_WINSLOW_TO_A_FRIEND_IN_ENGLAND">Governor Winslow to a Friend in England</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr">171</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#POEMS_OF_HOME_AND_COUNTRY">Poems of Home and Country:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#THIS_IS_MY_OWN_MY_NATIVE_LAND">"This is My Own, My Native Land"</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Sir Walter Scott</i></td> +<td class="tdr">174</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#THE_GREEN_LITTLE_SHAMROCK_OF_IRELAND">The Green Little Shamrock of Ireland</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Andrew Cherry</i></td> +<td class="tdr">175</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">III. <a href="#MY_HEARTS_IN_THE_HIGHLANDS">My Heart's in the Highlands</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Robert Burns</i></td> +<td class="tdr">176</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">IV. <a href="#THE_FATHERLAND">The Fatherland</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>James R. Lowell</i></td> +<td class="tdr">177</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> V. <a href="#HOME">Home</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Oliver Goldsmith</i></td> +<td class="tdr">178</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_AGE_OF_COAL45">The Age of Coal</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Agnes Giberne</i></td> +<td class="tdr">179</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#SOMETHING_ABOUT_THE_MOON46">Something about the Moon</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Richard A. Proctor</i></td> +<td class="tdr">183</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_COMING_OF_THE_BIRDS47">The Coming of the Birds</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Ralph Waldo Emerson</i></td> +<td class="tdr">187</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_RETURN_OF_THE_BIRDS48">The Return of the Birds</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>John Burroughs</i></td> +<td class="tdr">188</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_POET_AND_THE_BIRD">The Poet and the Bird:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#THE_SONG_OF_THE_LARK">The Song of the Lark</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr">193</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#TO_A_SKYLARK">To a Skylark</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Percy B. Shelley</i></td> +<td class="tdr">197</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#HARK_HARK_THE_LARK49">Hark, Hark! the Lark</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>William Shakespeare</i></td> +<td class="tdr">201</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#ECHOES_OF_THE_AMERICAN_REVOLUTION">Echoes of the American Revolution:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#PATRICK_HENRYS_FAMOUS_SPEECH">Patrick Henry's Famous Speech</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr">202</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#MARIONS_MEN">Marion's Men</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>W. Gilmore Simms</i></td> +<td class="tdr">206</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> III. <a href="#IN_MEMORY_OF_GEORGE_WASHINGTON">In Memory of George Washington</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Henry Lee</i></td> +<td class="tdr">209</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THREE_GREAT_AMERICAN_POEMS">Three Great American Poems:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#THANATOPSIS">Thanatopsis</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>William Cullen Bryant</i></td> +<td class="tdr">213</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#THE_BELLS">The Bells</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Edgar Allan Poe</i></td> +<td class="tdr">219</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> III. <a href="#MARCO_BOZZARIS">Marco Bozzaris</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Fitz-Greene Halleck</i></td> +<td class="tdr">224</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#THE_INDIAN53">The Indian</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Edward Everett</i></td> +<td class="tdr">228</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#NATIONAL_RETRIBUTION54">National Retribution</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Theodore Parker</i></td> +<td class="tdr">231</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#WHO_ARE_BLESSED55">Who are Blessed</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>The Bible</i></td> +<td class="tdr">233</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#LITTLE_GEMS_FROM_THE_OLDER_POETS">Little Gems from the Older Poets:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#THE_NOBLE_NATURE">The Noble Nature</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Ben Jonson</i></td> +<td class="tdr">235</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#A_CONTENTED_MIND">A Contented Mind</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Joshua Sylvester</i></td> +<td class="tdr">235</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> III. <a href="#A_HAPPY_LIFE">A Happy Life</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Sir Henry Wotton</i></td> +<td class="tdr">236</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> IV. <a href="#SOLITUDE">Solitude</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Alexander Pope</i></td> +<td class="tdr">237</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> V. <a href="#A_WISH">A Wish</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Samuel Rogers</i></td> +<td class="tdr">238</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#HOW_KING_ARTHUR_GOT_HIS_NAME61">How King Arthur got his Name</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Fiona Macleod</i></td> +<td class="tdr">239</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#ANTONYS_ORATION_OVER_CAESARS_DEAD_BODY63">Antony's Oration over Cæsar's Dead Body</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>William Shakespeare</i></td> +<td class="tdr">244</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#SELECTIONS_TO_BE_MEMORIZED">Selections to be Memorized:</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr"> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> I. <a href="#THE_PRAYER_PERFECT">The Prayer Perfect</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>James Whitcomb Riley</i></td> +<td class="tdr">250</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> II. <a href="#BE_JUST_AND_FEAR_NOT">Be Just and Fear No</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>William Shakespeare</i></td> +<td class="tdr">250</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> III. <a href="#IF_I_CAN_LIVE">If I can Live</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Author Unknown</i></td> +<td class="tdr">251</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> IV. <a href="#THE_BUGLE_SONG">The Bugle Song</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Alfred Tennyson</i></td> +<td class="tdr">251</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> V. <a href="#THE_NINETIETH_PSALM">The Ninetieth Psalm</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Book of Psalms</i></td> +<td class="tdr">252</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"> VI. <a href="#RECESSIONAL">Recessional</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i>Rudyard Kipling</i></td> +<td class="tdr">253</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#PROPER_NAMES">Proper Names</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr">255</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl"><a href="#LIST_OF_AUTHORS">List of Authors</a></td> +<td class="tdl"><i> </i></td> +<td class="tdr">257</td> +</tr> +</table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ACKNOWLEDGMENTS" id="ACKNOWLEDGMENTS"></a>ACKNOWLEDGMENTS</h2> + + +<p>Acknowledgment and thanks are proffered to Andrew Carnegie for +permission to reprint in this volume his tract on "War as the Mother of +Civilization and Valor"; to the Bobbs-Merrill Company for their courtesy +in allowing us to use "The Prayer Perfect," from James Whitcomb Riley's +<i>Rhymes of Childhood</i>; to David Mackay for the poem by Walt Whitman +entitled "Come up from the Fields, Father"; to Charles Scribner's Sons +for the "Song of the Chattahoochee," from the <i>Poems of Sidney Lanier</i>; +and, also, to the same publishers for the selection, "The Old-fashioned +Thanksgiving," from <i>Bound Together</i> by Donald G. Mitchell. The +selections from John Burroughs, Ralph Waldo Emerson, James T. Fields, +Nathaniel Hawthorne, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Henry W. Longfellow, and +John G. Whittier are used by permission of, and special arrangement +with, Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers of the works +of those authors.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p class="fm2"><a name="EIGHTH_READER" id="EIGHTH_READER"></a>EIGHTH READER</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BROTHER_AND_SISTER1" id="BROTHER_AND_SISTER1"></a>BROTHER AND SISTER<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></h2> + + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">The Home Coming</span></h3> + +<p>Tom was to arrive early in the afternoon, and there was another +fluttering heart besides Maggie's when it was late enough for the sound +of the gig wheels to be expected. For if Mrs. Tulliver had a strong +feeling, it was fondness for her boy. At last the sound came—that quick +light bowling of the gig wheels.</p> + +<p>"There he is, my sweet lad!" Mrs. Tulliver stood with her arms open; +Maggie jumped first on one leg and then on the other; while Tom +descended from the gig, and said, with masculine reticence as to the +tender emotions, "Hallo! Yap—what! are you there?"</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he submitted to be kissed willingly enough, though Maggie +hung on his neck in rather a strangling fashion, while his blue eyes +wandered toward the croft and the lambs and the river, where he promised +himself he would begin to fish the first thing to-morrow morning. He was +one of those lads that grow everywhere in England, and at twelve or +thirteen years of age look as much alike as goslings,—a lad with a +physiognomy in which it seems impossible to discern anything but the +generic character of boyhood.</p> + +<p>"Maggie," said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a corner, as soon as +his mother was gone out to examine his box, and the warm parlor had +taken off the chill he had felt from the long drive, "you don't know +what I've got in my pockets," nodding his head up and down as a means of +rousing her sense of mystery.</p> + +<p>"No," said Maggie. "How stodgy they look, Tom! Is it marbles or +cobnuts?" Maggie's heart sank a little, because Tom always said it was +"no good" playing with her at those games—she played so badly.</p> + +<p>"Marbles! no; I've swopped all my marbles with the little fellows, and +cobnuts are no fun, you silly, only when the nuts are green. But see +here!" He drew something half out of his right-hand pocket.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said Maggie, in a whisper. "I can see nothing but a bit of +yellow."</p> + +<p>"Why, it's—a—new—guess, Maggie!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't guess, Tom," said Maggie, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you," said Tom, thrusting his +hand back into his pocket, and looking determined.</p> + +<p>"No, Tom," said Maggie, imploringly, laying hold of the arm that was +held stiffly in the pocket. "I'm not cross, Tom; it was only because I +can't bear guessing. Please be good to me."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 362px;"> +<img src="images/i012.jpg" width="362" height="550" alt="The Home Coming." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Home Coming.</span> +</div> + +<p>Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, "Well, then, it's a new fish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a></span> +line—two new ones—one for you, Maggie, all to yourself. I wouldn't go +halves in the toffee and gingerbread on purpose to save the money; and +Gibson and Spouncer fought with me because I wouldn't. And here's hooks; +see here!—I say, won't we go and fish to-morrow down by the Round Pool? +And you shall catch your own fish, Maggie, and put the worms on, and +everything—won't it be fun?"</p> + +<p>Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around Tom's neck and hug him, and +hold her cheek against his without speaking, while he slowly unwound +some of the line, saying, after a pause:—</p> + +<p>"Wasn't I a good brother, now, to buy you a line all to yourself? You +know, I needn't have bought it, if I hadn't liked."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very, very good—I do love you, Tom."</p> + +<p>Tom had put the line back in his pocket, and was looking at the hooks +one by one, before he spoke again. "And the fellows fought me, because I +wouldn't give in about the toffee."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! I wish they wouldn't fight at your school, Tom. Didn't it +hurt you?"</p> + +<p>"Hurt me? no," said Tom, putting up the hooks again, taking out a large +pocketknife, and slowly opening the largest blade, which he looked at +meditatively as he rubbed his finger along it. Then he added—"I gave +Spouncer a black eye, I know—that's what he got by wanting to leather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a></span> +me; I wasn't going to go halves because anybody leathered me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how brave you are, Tom! I think you're like Samson. If there came a +lion roaring at me, I think you'd fight him—wouldn't you, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"How can a lion come roaring at you, you silly thing? There's no lions, +only in the shows."</p> + +<p>"No; but if we were in the lion countries—I mean in Africa, where it's +very hot—the lions eat people there. I can show it to you in the book +where I read it."</p> + +<p>"Well, I should get a gun and shoot him."</p> + +<p>"But if you hadn't got a gun—we might have gone out, you know, not +thinking just as we go fishing; and then a great lion might run toward +us roaring, and we couldn't get away from him. What should you do, Tom?" +Tom paused, and at last turned away contemptuously, saying, "But the +lion isn't coming. What's the use of talking?"</p> + +<p>"But I like to fancy how it would be," said Maggie, following him. "Just +think what you would do, Tom."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't bother, Maggie! you're such a silly—I shall go and see my +rabbits."</p> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">The Falling Out</span></h3> + +<p>Maggie's heart began to flutter with fear. She dared not tell the sad +truth at once, but she walked after Tom in trembling silence as he went +out, thinking how she could tell him the news so as to soften at once +his sorrow and his anger; for Maggie dreaded Tom's anger of all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a></span> +things—it was quite a different anger from her own. "Tom," she said +timidly, when they were out of doors, "how much money did you give for +your rabbits?"</p> + +<p>"Two half crowns and a sixpence," said Tom.</p> + +<p>"I think I've got a great deal more than that in my steel purse +upstairs. I'll ask mother to give it to you."</p> + +<p>"What for?" said Tom. "I don't want your money, you silly thing. I've +got a great deal more money than you, because I'm a boy. I always have +half sovereigns and sovereigns for my Christmas boxes, because I shall +be a man, and you only have five-shilling pieces, because you're only a +girl."</p> + +<p>"Well, but, Tom—if mother would let me give you two half crowns and a +sixpence out of my purse to put into your pocket and spend, you know; +and buy some more rabbits with it?"</p> + +<p>"More rabbits? I don't want any more."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, Tom, they're all dead."</p> + +<p>Tom stopped immediately in his walk and turned round toward Maggie. "You +forgot to feed 'em, then, and Harry forgot," he said, his color +heightening for a moment, but soon subsiding. "I'll pitch into +Harry—I'll have him turned away. And I don't love you, Maggie. You +shan't go fishing with me to-morrow. I told you to go and see the +rabbits every day."</p> + +<p>He walked on again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I forgot—and I couldn't help it, indeed, Tom. I'm so very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a></span> +sorry," said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast.</p> + +<p>"You're a naughty girl," said Tom, severely; "and I'm sorry I bought you +the fish line. I don't love you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tom, it's very cruel," sobbed Maggie. "I'd forgive you, if you +forgot anything—I wouldn't mind what you did—I'd forgive you and love +you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you're a silly—but I never do forget things—I don't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break," said Maggie, shaking +with sobs, clinging to Tom's arm, and laying her wet cheek on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p>Tom shook her off, and stopped again, saying in a peremptory tone, "Now, +Maggie, you just listen. Aren't I a good brother to you?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-ye-es," sobbed Maggie, her chin rising and falling convulsedly.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I think about your fish line all this quarter, and mean to buy +it, and saved my money o' purpose, and wouldn't go halves in the toffee, +and Spouncer fought me because I wouldn't?"</p> + +<p>"Ye-ye-es—and I—lo-lo-love you so, Tom."</p> + +<p>"But you're a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my +lozenge box, and the holidays before that you let the boat drag my fish +line down when I'd set you to watch it, and you pushed your head through +my kite, all for nothing."</p> + +<p>"But I didn't mean," said Maggie; "I couldn't help it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you could," said Tom, "if you'd minded what you were doing. And +you're a naughty girl, and you shan't go fishing with me to-morrow." +With this terrible conclusion, Tom ran away from Maggie toward the mill.</p> + +<p>Maggie stood motionless, except for her sobs, for a minute or two; then +she turned round and ran into the house, and up to her attic, where she +sat on the floor, and laid her head against the worm-eaten shelf, with a +crushing sense of misery. Tom was come home, and she had thought how +happy she should be—and now he was cruel to her. What use was anything, +if Tom didn't love her? Oh, he was very cruel! Hadn't she wanted to give +him the money, and said how very sorry she was? She had never been +naughty to Tom—had never meant to be naughty to him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is cruel!" Maggie sobbed aloud, finding a wretched pleasure in +the hollow resonance that came through the long empty space of the +attic. She was too miserable to be angry.</p> + + +<h3>III. <span class="smcap">The Making Up</span></h3> + +<p>Maggie soon thought she had been hours in the attic, and it must be tea +time, and they were all having their tea, and not thinking of her. Well, +then, she would stay up there and starve herself—hide herself behind +the tub, and stay there all night; and then they would all be +frightened, and Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thought as she crept +behind the tub; but presently she began to cry again at the idea that +they didn't mind her being there.</p> + +<p>Tom had been too much interested in going the round of the premises, to +think of Maggie and the effect his anger had produced on her. He meant +to punish her, and that business having been performed, he occupied +himself with other matters, like a practical person. But when he had +been called in to tea, his father said, "Why, where's the little wench?" +and Mrs. Tulliver, almost at the same moment, said, "Where's your little +sister?"—both of them having supposed that Maggie and Tom had been +together all the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Tom. He didn't want to "tell" of Maggie, though he +was angry with her; for Tom Tulliver was a lad of honor.</p> + +<p>"What! hasn't she been playing with you all this while?" said the +father. "She'd been thinking of nothing but your coming home."</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen her this two hours," says Tom, commencing on the plum +cake.</p> + +<p>"Goodness heart! She's got drowned!" exclaimed Mrs. Tulliver, rising +from her seat and running to the window. "How could you let her do so?" +she added, as became a fearful woman, accusing she didn't know whom of +she didn't know what.</p> + +<p>"Nay, nay, she's none drowned," said Mr. Tulliver. "You've been naughty +to her, I doubt, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I haven't, father," said Tom, indignantly. "I think she's in +the house."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps up in that attic," said Mrs. Tulliver, "a-singing and talking +to herself, and forgetting all about mealtimes."</p> + +<p>"You go and fetch her down, Tom," said Mr. Tulliver, rather sharply, his +perspicacity or his fatherly fondness for Maggie making him suspect that +the lad had been hard upon "the little un," else she would never have +left his side. "And be good to her, do you hear? Else I'll let you know +better."</p> + +<p>Tom never disobeyed his father, for Mr. Tulliver was a peremptory man; +but he went out rather sullenly, carrying his piece of plum cake, and +not intending to reprieve Maggie's punishment, which was no more than +she deserved. Tom was only thirteen, and had no decided views in grammar +and arithmetic, regarding them for the most part as open questions, but +he was particularly clear and positive on one point—namely, that he +would punish everybody who deserved it; why, he wouldn't have minded +being punished himself, if he deserved it; but, then, he never did +deserve it.</p> + +<p>It was Tom's step, then, that Maggie heard on the stairs, when her need +of love had triumphed over her pride, and she was going down with her +swollen eyes and disheveled hair to beg for pity. At least her father +would stroke her head and say, "Never mind, my wench."</p> + +<p>But she knew Tom's step, and her heart began to beat violently with the +sudden shock of hope. He only stood still at the top of the stairs and +said, "Maggie, you're to come down." But she rushed to him and clung +round his neck, sobbing, "O Tom, please forgive me—I can't bear it—I +will always be good—always remember things—do love me—please, dear +Tom!"</p> + +<p>Maggie and Tom were still very much like young animals, and so she could +rub her cheek against his, and kiss his ear in a random, sobbing way; +and there were tender fibers in the lad that had been used to answer to +Maggie's fondling; so that he behaved with a weakness quite inconsistent +with his resolution to punish her as much as she deserved; he actually +began to kiss her in return, and say:—</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, then, Magsie—here, eat a bit o' cake." Maggie's sobs began +to subside, and she put out her mouth for the cake and bit a piece; and +then Tom bit a piece, just for company, and they ate together and rubbed +each other's cheeks and brows and noses together, while they ate, with a +humiliating resemblance to two friendly ponies.</p> + +<p>"Come along, Magsie, and have tea," said Tom at last, when there was no +more cake except what was downstairs.</p> + +<p>So ended the sorrows of this day.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> From "The Mill on the Floss," by George Eliot.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MY_LAST_DAY_AT_SALEM_HOUSE2" id="MY_LAST_DAY_AT_SALEM_HOUSE2"></a>MY LAST DAY AT SALEM HOUSE<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></h2> + + +<p>I pass over all that happened at school, until the anniversary of my +birthday came round in March. The great remembrance by which that time +is marked in my mind seems to have swallowed up all lesser +recollections, and to exist alone.</p> + +<p>It is even difficult for me to believe there was a gap of full two +months between my return to Salem House and the arrival of that +birthday. I can only understand that the fact was so, because I know it +must have been so; otherwise I should feel convinced there was no +interval, and that the one occasion trod upon the other's heels.</p> + +<p>How well I recollect the kind of day it was! I smell the fog that hung +about the place; I see the hoar-frost ghostly, through it; I feel my +rimy hair fall clammy on my cheek; I look along the dim perspective of +the schoolroom, with a spluttering candle here and there to light up the +foggy morning, and the breath of the boys wreathing and smoking in the +raw cold as they blow upon their fingers, and tap their feet upon the +floor.</p> + +<p>It was after breakfast, and we had been summoned in from the playground, +when Mr. Sharp entered and said, "David Copperfield is to go into the +parlor."</p> + +<p>I expected a hamper from home, and brightened at the order. Some of the +boys about me put in their claim not to be forgotten in the distribution +of the good things, as I got out of my seat with great alacrity.</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry, David," said Mr. Sharp. "There's time enough, my boy, +don't hurry."</p> + +<p>I might have been surprised by the feeling tone in which he spoke, if I +had given it a thought; but I gave it none until afterward. I hurried +away to the parlor; and there I found Mr. Creakle, sitting at his +breakfast with the cane and newspaper before him, and Mrs. Creakle with +an opened letter in her hand. But no hamper.</p> + +<p>"David Copperfield," said Mrs. Creakle, leading me to a sofa, and +sitting down beside me, "I want to speak to you very particularly. I +have something to tell you, my child."</p> + +<p>Mr. Creakle, at whom of course I looked, shook his head without looking +at me, and stopped up a sigh with a very large piece of buttered toast.</p> + +<p>"You are too young to know how the world changes every day," said Mrs. +Creakle, "and how the people in it pass away. But we all have to learn +it, David; some of us when we are young, some of us when we are old, +some of us at all times of our lives."</p> + +<p>I looked at her earnestly.</p> + +<p>"When you came away from home at the end of the vacation," said Mrs. +Creakle, after a pause, "were they all well?" After another pause, "Was +your mamma well?"</p> + +<p>I trembled without distinctly knowing why, and still looked at her +earnestly, making no attempt to answer.</p> + +<p>"Because," said she, "I grieve to tell you that I hear this morning your +mamma is very ill."</p> + +<p>A mist rose between Mrs. Creakle and me, and her figure seemed to move +in it for an instant. Then I felt the burning tears run down my face, +and it was steady again.</p> + +<p>"She is very dangerously ill," she added.</p> + +<p>I knew all now.</p> + +<p>"She is dead." There was no need to tell me so. I had already broken out +into a desolate cry, and felt an orphan in the wide world.</p> + +<p>She was very kind to me. She kept me there all day, and left me alone +sometimes; and I cried and wore myself to sleep, and awoke and cried +again. When I could cry no more, I began to think; and then the +oppression on my breast was heaviest, and my grief a dull pain that +there was no ease for.</p> + +<p>And yet my thoughts were idle; not intent on the calamity that weighed +upon my heart, but idly loitering near it. I thought of our house shut +up and hushed. I thought of the little baby, who, Mrs. Creakle said, had +been pining away for some time, and who, they believed, would die too. I +thought of my father's grave in the churchyard, by our house, and of my +mother lying there beneath the tree I knew so well.</p> + +<p>I stood upon a chair when I was left alone, and looked into the glass to +see how red my eyes were, and how sorrowful my face. I considered, after +some hours were gone, if my tears were really hard to flow now, as they +seemed to be, what, in connection with my loss, it would affect me most +to think of when I drew near home—for I was going home to the funeral. +I am sensible of having felt that a dignity attached to me among the +rest of the boys, and that I was important in my affliction.</p> + +<p>If ever child were stricken with sincere grief, I was. But I remembered +that this importance was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in +the playground that afternoon while the boys were in school. When I saw +them glancing at me out of the windows, as they went up to their +classes, I felt distinguished, and looked more melancholy, and walked +slower. When school was over, and they came out and spoke to me, I felt +it rather good in myself not to be proud to any of them, and to take +exactly the same notice of them all, as before.</p> + +<p>I was to go home next night; not by the mail, but by the heavy night +coach, which was called the Farmer, and was principally used by country +people traveling short intermediate distances upon the road. We had no +story telling that evening, and Traddles insisted on lending me his +pillow. I don't know what good he thought it would do me, for I had one +of my own; but it was all he had to lend, poor fellow, except a sheet of +letter paper full of skeletons; and that he gave me at parting, as a +soother of my sorrows and a contribution to my peace of mind.</p> + +<p>I left Salem House upon the morrow afternoon. I little thought then that +I left it, never to return. We traveled very slowly all night, and did +not get into Yarmouth before nine or ten o'clock in the morning. I +looked out for Mr. Barkis, but he was not there; and instead of him a +fat, short-winded, merry-looking little old man in black, with rusty +little bunches of ribbons at the knees of his breeches, black stockings, +and a broad-brimmed hat, came puffing up to the coach window, and said, +"Master Copperfield?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Will you come with me, young sir, if you please," he said, opening the +door, "and I shall have the pleasure of taking you home!"</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> From "David Copperfield," by Charles Dickens.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: The two stories which you have just read were written +by two of the greatest masters of fiction in English literature. +Talk with your teacher about George Eliot and Charles Dickens, and +learn all that you can about their works. Which of these two +stories do you prefer? Why?</p> + +<p>Reread the conversation on pages <a href="#Page_14">14</a> and <a href="#Page_15">15</a>. Imagine yourself to be +Tom or Maggie, and speak just as he or she did. Read the +conversation on pages <a href="#Page_16">16</a> and <a href="#Page_17">17</a> in the same way. Reread other +portions that you like particularly well.</p> + +<p>In what respect does the second story differ most strongly from the +first? Select the most striking passage and read it with expression +sad feeling.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DEPARTURE_FROM_MISS_PINKERTONS3" id="THE_DEPARTURE_FROM_MISS_PINKERTONS3"></a>THE DEPARTURE FROM MISS PINKERTON'S<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a></h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>One sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate of +Miss Pinkerton's Academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large +family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by a fat +coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an +hour.</p> + +<p>A black servant, who reposed on the box beside the fat coachman, +uncurled his bandy legs as soon as the equipage drew up opposite Miss +Pinkerton's shining brass plate; and as he pulled the bell, at least a +score of young heads were seen peering out of the narrow windows of the +stately old brick house. Nay, the acute observer might have recognized +the little red nose of good-natured Miss Jemima Pinkerton herself, +rising over some geranium pots in the window of that lady's own drawing +room.</p> + +<p>"It is Mrs. Sedley's coach, sister," said Miss Jemima. "Sambo, the black +servant, has just rung the bell; and the coachman has a new red +waistcoat."</p> + +<p>"Have you completed all the necessary preparations incident to Miss +Sedley's departure?" asked Miss Pinkerton, that majestic lady, the +friend of the famous literary man, Dr. Johnson, the author of the great +"Dixonary" of the English language, called commonly the great +Lexicographer.</p> + +<p>"The girls were up at four this morning, packing her trunks, sister," +answered Miss Jemima. "We have made her a bowpot."</p> + +<p>"Say a bouquet, sister Jemima; 'tis more genteel."</p> + +<p>"Well, a booky as big almost as a haystack. I have put up two bottles of +the gillyflower water for Mrs. Sedley, and the receipt for making it is +in Amelia's box."</p> + +<p>"And I trust, Miss Jemima, you have made a copy of Miss Sedley's +account. That is it, is it? Very good! Ninety-three pounds, four +shillings. Be kind enough to address it to John Sedley, Esquire, and to +seal this billet which I have written to his lady."</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>In Miss Jemima's eyes an autograph letter of her sister, Miss Pinkerton, +was an object of as deep veneration as would have been a letter from a +sovereign. Only when her pupils quitted the establishment, or when they +were about to be married, and once when poor Miss Birch died of the +scarlet fever, was Miss Pinkerton known to write personally to the +parents of her pupils.</p> + +<p>In the present instance Miss Pinkerton's "billet" was to the following +effect:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="author"><i>The Mall, Chiswick, June 15.</i></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Madam</span>:</p> + +<p>After her six years' residence at the Mall, I have the honor and +happiness of presenting Miss Amelia Sedley to her parents, as a +young lady not unworthy to occupy a fitting position in their +polished and refined circle. Those virtues which characterize the +young English gentlewomen; those accomplishments which become her +birth and station, will not be found wanting in the amiable Miss +Sedley, whose industry and obedience have endeared her to her +instructors, and whose delightful sweetness of temper has charmed +her aged and her youthful companions.</p> + +<p>In music, dancing, in orthography, in every variety of embroidery +and needle-work she will be found to have realized her friends' +fondest wishes. In geography there is still much to be desired; and +a careful and undeviating use of the back-board, for four hours +daily during the next three years, is recommended as necessary to +the acquirement of that dignified deportment and carriage so +requisite for every young lady of fashion.</p> + +<p>In the principles of religion and morality, Miss Sedley will be +found worthy of an establishment which has been honored by the +presence of The Great Lexicographer and the patronage of the +admirable Mrs. Chapone. In leaving them all, Miss Amelia carries +with her the hearts of her companions and the affectionate regards +of her mistress, who has the honor to subscribe herself,</p> + +<p>Madam your most obliged humble servant,</p> + +<p class="author"> +<span class="smcap">Barbara Pinkerton</span>. +</p> + +<p>P.S.—Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley. It is particularly +requested that Miss Sharp's stay in Russell Square may not exceed +ten days. The family of distinction with whom she is engaged as +governess desire to avail themselves of her services as soon as +possible.</p></div> + +<p>This letter completed, Miss Pinkerton proceeded to write her own name +and Miss Sedley's in the flyleaf of a Johnson's Dictionary, the +interesting work which she invariably presented to her scholars on their +departure from the Mall. On the cover was inserted a copy of "Lines +addressed to a Young Lady on quitting Miss Pinkerton's School, at the +Mall; by the late revered Dr. Samuel Johnson." In fact, the +Lexicographer's name was always on the lips of this majestic woman, and +a visit he had paid to her was the cause of her reputation and her +fortune.</p> + +<p>Being commanded by her elder sister to get "The Dixonary" from the +cupboard, Miss Jemima had extracted two copies of the book from the +receptacle in question. When Miss Pinkerton had finished the inscription +in the first, Jemima, with rather a dubious and timid air, handed her +the second.</p> + +<p>"For whom is this, Miss Jemima?" said Miss Pinkerton with awful +coldness.</p> + +<p>"For Becky Sharp," answered Jemima, trembling very much, and blushing +over her withered face and neck, as she turned her back on her sister. +"For Becky Sharp. She's going, too."</p> + +<p>"MISS JEMIMA!" exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, in the largest capitals. "Are +you in your senses? Replace the Dixonary in the closet, and never +venture to take such a liberty in future."</p> + +<p>With an unusual display of courage, Miss Jemima mildly protested: "Well, +sister, it's only two and nine-pence, and poor Becky will be miserable +if she doesn't get one."</p> + +<p>"Send Miss Sedley instantly to me," was Miss Pinkerton's only answer. +And, venturing not to say another word, poor Jemima trotted off, +exceedingly flurried and nervous, while the two pupils, Miss Sedley and +Miss Sharp, were making final preparations for their departure for Miss +Sedley's home.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Well, then. The flowers, and the presents, and the trunks, and the +bonnet boxes of Miss Sedley having been arranged by Mr. Sambo in the +carriage, together with a very small and weather-beaten old cowskin +trunk with Miss Sharp's card neatly nailed upon it, which was delivered +by Sambo with a grin, and packed by the coachman with a corresponding +sneer, the hour for parting came; and the grief of that moment was +considerably lessened by the admirable discourse which Miss Pinkerton +addressed to her pupil.</p> + +<p>Not that the parting speech caused Amelia to philosophize, or that it +armed her in any way with a calmness, the result of argument; but it was +intolerably dull, and having the fear of her schoolmistress greatly +before her eyes, Miss Sedley did not venture, in her presence, to give +way to any ablutions of private grief. A seed cake and a bottle of wine +were produced in the drawing room, as on the solemn occasions of the +visits of parents; and these refreshments being partaken of, Miss Sedley +was at liberty to depart.</p> + +<p>"You'll go in and say good-by to Miss Pinkerton, Becky!" said Miss +Jemima to that young lady, of whom nobody took any notice, and who was +coming downstairs with her own bandbox.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must," said Miss Sharp calmly, and much to the wonder of +Miss Jemima; and the latter having knocked at the door, and receiving +permission to come in, Miss Sharp advanced in a very unconcerned manner, +and said in French, and with a perfect accent, "<i>Mademoiselle, je viens +vous faire mes adieux</i>."<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>Miss Pinkerton did not understand French, as we know; she only directed +those who did. Biting her lips and throwing up her venerable and +Roman-nosed head, she said, "Miss Sharp, I wish you a good morning."</p> + +<p>As she spoke, she waved one hand, both by way of adieu and to give Miss +Sharp an opportunity of shaking one of the fingers of the hand, which +was left out for that purpose. Miss Sharp only folded her own hands with +a very frigid smile and bow, and quite declined to accept the proffered +honor; on which Miss Pinkerton tossed up her turban more indignantly +than ever. In fact, it was a little battle between the young lady and +the old one, and the latter was worsted.</p> + +<p>"Come away, Becky," said Miss Jemima, pulling the young woman away in +great alarm; and the drawing room door closed upon her forever.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 430px;"> +<img src="images/i032.jpg" width="430" height="600" alt="The Parting." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Parting.</span> +</div> + +<p>Then came the struggle and parting below. Words refuse to tell it. All +the servants were there in the hall—all the dear friends—all the young +ladies—even the dancing master, who had just arrived; and there was +such a scuffling and hugging, and kissing, and crying, with the +hysterical <i>yoops</i> of Miss Schwartz, the parlor boarder, as no pen can +depict, and as the tender heart would feign pass over.</p> + +<p>The embracing was finished; they parted—that is, Miss Sedley parted +from her friends. Miss Sharp had demurely entered the carriage some +minutes before. Nobody cried for leaving <i>her</i>.</p> + +<p>Sambo of the bandy legs slammed the carriage door on his young weeping +mistress. He sprang up behind the carriage.</p> + +<p>"Stop!" cried Miss Jemima, rushing to the gate with a parcel.</p> + +<p>"It's some sandwiches, my dear," she called to Amelia. "You may be +hungry, you know; and, Becky—Becky Sharp—here's a book for you, that +my sister—that is, I—Johnson's Dixonary, you know. You mustn't leave +us without that. Good-by! Drive on, coachman!—God bless you! Good-by."</p> + +<p>Then the kind creature retreated into the garden, overcome with emotion.</p> + +<p>But lo! and just as the coach drove off, Miss Sharp suddenly put her +pale face out of the window, and flung the book back into the +garden—flung it far and fast—watching it fall at the feet of +astonished Miss Jemima; then sank back in the carriage, exclaiming, "So +much for the 'Dixonary'; and thank God I'm out of Chiswick!"</p> + +<p>The shock of such an act almost caused Jemima to faint with terror.</p> + +<p>"Well, I never—" she began. "What an audacious—" she gasped. Emotion +prevented her from completing either sentence.</p> + +<p>The carriage rolled away; the great gates were closed; the bell rang for +the dancing lesson. The world is before the two young ladies; and so, +farewell to Chiswick Mall!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> From "Vanity Fair," by William Makepeace Thackeray.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> "Madam, I have come to tell you good-by."</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: By many able critics, Thackeray is regarded as a +greater novelist than either Dickens or George Eliot. Compare this +extract from one of his best works with the two selections which +precede it. Which of the three stories is the most interesting to +you? Which sounds the best when read aloud? Which is the most +humorous? Which is the most pathetic?</p> + +<p>Reread the three selections very carefully. Now tell what you +observe about the style of each. In what respects is the style of +the third story different from that of either of the others? Reread +Miss Pinkerton's letter. What peculiarities do you observe in it? +Select and reread the most humorous passage in this last story.</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TWO_GEMS_FROM_BROWNING" id="TWO_GEMS_FROM_BROWNING"></a>TWO GEMS FROM BROWNING</h2> + + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">Incident of the French Camp<a name="INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP" id="INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP"></a></span></h3> + +<p>In the small kingdom of Bavaria, on the south bank of the Danube River, +there is a famous old city called Ratisbon. It is not a very large city, +but its history can be traced far back to the time when the Romans had a +military camp there which they used as an outpost against the German +barbarians. At one time it ranked among the most flourishing towns of +Germany.</p> + +<p>It is now of little commercial importance—a quaint and quiet old place, +with a fine cathedral and many notable buildings which testify to its +former greatness.</p> + +<p>During the earlier years of the nineteenth century, Napoleon Bonaparte, +emperor of the French, was engaged in bitter warfare with Austria and +indeed with nearly the whole of Europe. In April, 1809, the Austrian +army, under Grand Duke Charles, was intrenched in Ratisbon and the +neighboring towns. There it was attacked by the French army commanded by +Napoleon himself and led by the brave Marshal Lannes, Duke of +Montebello.</p> + +<p>The battle raged, first on this side of the city, then on that, and for +several days no one could tell which of the combatants would be +victorious. At length Napoleon decided to end the matter by storming the +city and, if possible, driving the archduke from his stronghold. He, +therefore, sent Marshal Lannes forward to direct the battle, while he +watched the conflict and gave commands from a distance. For a long time +the issue seemed doubtful, and not even Napoleon could guess what the +result would be. Late in the day, however, French valor prevailed, the +Austrians were routed, and Marshal Lannes forced his way into the city.</p> + +<p>It was at this time that the incident described so touchingly in the +following poem by Robert Browning is supposed to have taken place. We do +not know, nor does any one know, whether the story has any foundation in +fact. It illustrates, however, the spirit of bravery and self-sacrifice +that prevailed among the soldiers of Napoleon; and such an incident +might, indeed, have happened not only at Ratisbon, but at almost any +place where the emperor's presence urged his troops to victory. For, +such was Napoleon's magic influence and such was the love which he +inspired among all his followers, that thousands of young men were ready +cheerfully to give their lives for the promotion of his selfish +ambition.</p> + +<p>The poem, which is now regarded as one of the classics of our language, +was first published in 1843, in a small volume entitled "Dramatic +Lyrics." The same volume contained the well-known rime of "The Pied +Piper of Hamelin." Robert Browning was at that time a young man of +thirty, and most of the poems which afterwards made him famous were +still unwritten.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Browning's Poem</span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You know, we French stormed Ratisbon:</span><br /> +<span class="i1">A mile or so away,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On a little mound, Napoleon</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Stood on our storming day:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With neck outthrust, you fancy how,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Legs wide, arms locked behind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if to balance the prone brow</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Oppressive with its mind.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans</span><br /> +<span class="i1">That soar, to earth may fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let once my army leader Lannes</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Waver at yonder wall,"—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out 'twixt the battery smokes there flew</span><br /> +<span class="i1">A rider, bound on bound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Full galloping; nor bridle drew</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Until he reached the mound.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then off there flung in smiling joy,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And held himself erect</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By just his horse's mane, a boy:</span><br /> +<span class="i1">You hardly could suspect—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(So tight he kept his lips compressed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Scarce any blood came through)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You looked twice ere you saw his breast</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Was all but shot in two.</span><br /> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 409px;"> +<img src="images/i038.jpg" width="409" height="600" alt=""We've got you Ratisbon!"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"We've got you Ratisbon!"</span> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well," cried he, "Emperor by God's grace</span><br /> +<span class="i1">We've got you Ratisbon!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Marshal's in the market place,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And you'll be there anon</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To see your flag bird flap his vans</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Where I, to heart's desire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Perched him!" The chiefs eye flashed; his plans</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Soared up again like fire.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The chief's eye flashed; but presently</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Softened itself, as sheathes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A film the mother eagle's eye</span><br /> +<span class="i1">When her bruised eaglet breathes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">"You're wounded!" "Nay," the soldier's pride</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Touched to the quick, he said:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">"I'm killed, Sire!" And his chief beside,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Smiling, the boy fell dead.</span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: This is a difficult selection to read properly and with +spirit and feeling. Study each stanza until you understand it +thoroughly. Practice reading the following passages, giving the +proper emphasis and inflections.</p> +<p><i>You know, we French stormed Ratisbon.</i></p> +<p><i>With neck outthrust you fancy how.</i></p> +<p><i>"We've got you Ratisbon!"</i></p> +<p><i>"You're wounded!" "Nay, I'm killed, Sire!"</i></p> + +<p> +<span class="smcap">Word Study</span>: <i>Napoleon</i>, <i>Ratisbon</i>, <i>Bavaria</i>, <i>Lannes</i>; <i>anon</i>, +<i>vans</i>, <i>sheathes</i>, <i>eaglet</i>, <i>Sire</i>.</p> + +<p>Explain: "<i>To see your flag bird flap his vans.</i>" "<i>His plans +soared up again like fire.</i>"</p></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i040.jpg" width="400" height="250" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Dog Tray</span><a name="DOG_TRAY" id="DOG_TRAY"></a><a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A beggar child</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sat on a quay's edge: like a bird</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sang to herself at careless play,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fell into the stream. "Dismay!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Help, you standers-by!" None stirred.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bystanders reason, think of wives</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And children ere they risk their lives.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the balustrade has bounced</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A mere instinctive dog, and pounced</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Plumb on the prize. "How well he dives!"</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Up he comes with the child, see, tight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In mouth, alive, too, clutched from quite</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A depth of ten feet—twelve, I bet!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Good dog! What, off again? There's yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another child to save? All right!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How strange we saw no other fall!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It's instinct in the animal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good dog! But he's a long time under:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he got drowned, I should not wonder—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong current, that against the wall!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here he comes, holds in mouth this time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—What may the thing be? Well, that's prime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, did you ever? Reason reigns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In man alone, since all Tray's pains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have fished—the child's doll from the slime!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> By Robert Browning.</p></div><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read the story silently, being sure that you understand +it clearly. Then read each passage aloud, giving special attention +to emphasis and inflections. Answer these questions by reading from +the poem:</p> + +<p>Where was the child? What did she do?</p> + +<p>What did some one cry out?</p> + +<p>Why did not the bystanders help?</p> + +<p>What did the dog do?</p> + +<p>What did one bystander say?</p> + +<p>What did another say when the dog came up?</p> + +<p>What did he say when the dog went back?</p> + +<p>Read correctly: "<i>Well, that's prime!</i>" "<i>Now, did you ever?</i>" +"<i>All right!</i>" "<i>If he got drowned, I should not wonder.</i>"</p> + +<p>In what respects do these two poems differ from your favorite poems +by Longfellow or Tennyson? Do you think there is much music in +them?</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DISCOVERY_OF_AMERICA6" id="THE_DISCOVERY_OF_AMERICA6"></a>THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></h2> + + +<p>It was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, that Columbus first +beheld the New World. As the day dawned he saw before him a level +island, several leagues in extent, and covered with trees like a +continual orchard. Though apparently uncultivated, it was populous, for +the inhabitants were seen issuing from all parts of the woods and +running to the shore. They stood gazing at the ships, and appeared, by +their attitudes and gestures, to be lost in astonishment.</p> + +<p>Columbus made signal for the ships to cast anchor and the boats to be +manned and armed. He entered his own boat richly attired in scarlet and +holding the royal standard; while Martin Alonzo Pinzon and his brother +put off in company in their boats, each with a banner of the enterprise +emblazoned with a green cross, having on either side the letters F and +Y, the initials of the Castilian monarchs Fernando and Ysabel, +surmounted by crowns.</p> + +<p>As he approached the shore, Columbus, who was disposed for all kinds of +agreeable impressions, was delighted with the purity and suavity of the +atmosphere, the crystal transparency of the sea, and the extraordinary +beauty of the vegetation. He beheld also fruits of an unknown kind upon +the trees which overhung the shores. On landing he threw himself on his +knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks to God with tears of joy.</p> + +<p>His example was followed by the rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed +with the same feelings of gratitude. Columbus then rising drew his +sword, displayed the royal standard, and, assembling round him the two +captains and the rest who had landed, he took solemn possession in the +name of the Castilian sovereigns, giving the island the name of San +Salvador. Having complied with the requisite forms and ceremonies, he +called upon all present to take the oath of obedience to him as admiral +and viceroy, representing the persons of the sovereigns.</p> + +<p>The feelings of the crew now burst forth in the most extravagant +transports. They had recently considered themselves devoted men hurrying +forward to destruction; they now looked upon themselves as favorites of +fortune and gave themselves up to the most unbounded joy. They thronged +around the admiral with overflowing zeal, some embracing him, others +kissing his hands.</p> + +<p>Those who had been most mutinous and turbulent during the voyage were +now most devoted and enthusiastic. Some begged favors of him, as if he +had already wealth and honors in his gift. Many abject spirits, who had +outraged him by their insolence, now crouched at his feet, begging +pardon for all the trouble they had caused him and promising the +blindest obedience for the future.</p> + +<p>The natives of the island, when at the dawn of day they had beheld the +ships hovering on their coast, had supposed them monsters which had +issued from the deep during the night. They had crowded to the beach and +watched their movements with awful anxiety. Their veering about +apparently without effort, and the shifting and furling of their sails, +resembling huge wings, filled them with astonishment. When they beheld +their boats approach the shore, and a number of strange beings clad in +glittering steel, or raiment of various colors, landing upon the beach, +they fled in affright to the woods.</p> + +<p>Finding, however, that there was no attempt to pursue or molest them, +they gradually recovered from their terror and approached the Spaniards +with great awe, frequently prostrating themselves on the earth and +making signs of adoration. During the ceremonies of taking possession, +they remained gazing in timid admiration at the complexion, the beards, +the shining armor and splendid dress of the Spaniards. The admiral +particularly attracted their attention, from his commanding height, his +air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the deference which was paid +him by his companions; all which pointed him out to be the commander.</p> + +<p>When they had still further recovered from their fears, they approached +the Spaniards, touched their beards and examined their hands and faces, +admiring their whiteness. Columbus was pleased with their gentleness and +confiding simplicity, and soon won them by his kindly bearing. They now +supposed that the ships had sailed out of the crystal firmament which +bounded their horizon, or had descended from above on their ample wings, +and that these marvelous beings were inhabitants of the skies.</p> + +<p>The natives of the island were no less objects of curiosity to the +Spaniards, differing as they did from any race of men they had ever +seen. Their appearance gave no promise of either wealth or civilization, +for they were entirely naked and painted with a variety of colors. With +some it was confined merely to a part of the face, the nose, or around +the eyes; with others it extended to the whole body and gave them a wild +and fantastic appearance.</p> + +<p>Their complexion was of a tawny, or copper hue, and they were entirely +destitute of beards. Their hair was not crisped, like the recently +discovered tribes of the African coast, under the same latitude, but +straight and coarse, partly cut short above the ears, but some locks +were left long behind and falling upon their shoulders. Their features, +though obscured and disfigured by paint, were agreeable; they had lofty +foreheads and remarkably fine eyes. They were of moderate stature and +well shaped.</p> + +<p>As Columbus supposed himself to have landed on an island at the +extremity of India, he called the natives by the general name of +Indians, which was universally adopted before the true nature of his +discovery was known, and has since been extended to all the aboriginals +of the New World.</p> + +<p>The islanders were friendly and gentle. Their only arms were lances, +hardened at the end by fire, or pointed with a flint, or the teeth or +bone of a fish. There was no iron to be seen, nor did they appear +acquainted with its properties; for, when a drawn sword was presented to +them, they unguardedly took it by the edge.</p> + +<p>Columbus distributed among them colored caps, glass beads, hawks' bells +and other trifles, such as the Portuguese were accustomed to trade with +among the nations of the gold coast of Africa. They received them +eagerly, hung the beads round their necks, and were wonderfully pleased +with their finery, and with the sound of the bells. The Spaniards +remained all day on shore refreshing themselves, after their anxious +voyage, amid the beautiful groves of the island, and returned on board +late in the evening, delighted with all they had seen.</p> + +<p>The island where Columbus had thus, for the first time, set his foot +upon the New World, was called by the natives Guanahane. It still +retains the name of San Salvador, which he gave to it, though called by +the English Cat Island.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> From "The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus," by +Washington Irving.</p></div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_GLOVE_AND_THE_LIONS7" id="THE_GLOVE_AND_THE_LIONS7"></a>THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And 'mong them sat the Count de Lorge with one for whom he sighed:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Valor, and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thundrous smother;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there."</span><br /> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i048.jpg" width="400" height="600" alt="The Glove and the Lions." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Glove and the Lions.</span></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">De Lorge's love o'erheard the King,—a beauteous lively dame</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With smiling lips and sharp, bright eyes, which always seemed the same:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She thought, "The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine."</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">"Well done!" cried Francis, "bravely done!" and he rose from where he sat:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">"No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that."</span><br /><br /> +</div></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> By Leigh Hunt, an English essayist and poet (1784-1859).</p></div><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read this poem silently, trying to understand fully the +circumstances of the story: (1) the time; (2) the place; (3) the +character of the leading actors. Then read aloud each stanza with +feeling and expression.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ST._FRANCIS_THE_GENTLE" id="ST._FRANCIS_THE_GENTLE"></a>ST. FRANCIS, THE GENTLE<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></h2> + + +<p>Seven hundred years ago, Francis the gentlest of the saints was born in +Assisi, the quaint Umbrian town among the rocks; and for twenty years +and more he cherished but one thought, and one desire, and one hope; and +these were that he might lead the beautiful and holy and sorrowful life +which our Master lived on earth, and that in every way he might resemble +Him in the purity and loveliness of his humanity.</p> + +<p>Not to men alone but to all living things on earth and air and water was +St. Francis most gracious and loving. They were all his little brothers +and sisters, and he forgot them not, still less scorned or slighted +them, but spoke to them often and blessed them, and in return they +showed him great love and sought to be of his fellowship. He bade his +companions keep plots of ground for their little sisters the flowers, +and to these lovely and speechless creatures he spoke, with no great +fear that they would not understand his words. And all this was a +marvelous thing in a cruel time, when human life was accounted of slight +worth by fierce barons and ruffling marauders.</p> + +<p>For the bees he set honey and wine in the winter, lest they should feel +the nip of the cold too keenly; and bread for the birds, that they all, +but especially "my brother Lark," should have joy of Christmastide, and +at Rieti a brood of redbreasts were the guests of the house and raided +the tables while the brethren were at meals; and when a youth gave St. +Francis the turtledoves he had snared, the Saint had nests made for +them, and there they laid their eggs and hatched them, and fed from the +hands of the brethren.</p> + +<p>Out of affection a fisherman once gave him a great tench, but he put it +back into the clear water of the lake, bidding it love God; and the fish +played about the boat till St. Francis blessed it and bade it go.</p> + +<p>"Why dost thou torment my little brothers the Lambs," he asked of a +shepherd, "carrying them bound thus and hanging from a staff, so that +they cry piteously?" And in exchange for the lambs he gave the shepherd +his cloak. And at another time seeing amid a flock of goats one white +lamb feeding, he was concerned that he had nothing but his brown robe to +offer for it (for it reminded him of our Lord among the Pharisees); but +a merchant came up and paid for it and gave it him, and he took it with +him to the city and preached about it so that the hearts of those +hearing him were melted. Afterwards the lamb was left in the care of a +convent of holy women, and to the Saint's great delight, these wove him +a gown of the lamb's innocent wool.</p> + +<p>Fain would I tell of the coneys that took refuge in the folds of his +habit, and of the swifts which flew screaming in their glee while he was +preaching; but now it is time to speak of the sermon which he preached +to a great multitude of birds in a field by the roadside, when he was on +his way to Bevagno. Down from the trees flew the birds to hear him, and +they nestled in the grassy bosom of the field, and listened till he had +done. And these were the words he spoke to them:—</p> + +<p>"Little birds, little sisters mine, much are you holden to God your +Creator; and at all times and in every place you ought to praise Him. +Freedom He has given you to fly everywhere; and raiment He has given +you, double and threefold. More than this, He preserved your kind in the +Ark, so that your race might not come to an end. Still more do you owe +Him for the element of air, which He has made your portion. Over and +above, you sow not, neither do you reap; but God feeds you, and gives +you streams and springs for your thirst; the mountains He gives you, and +the valleys for your refuge, and the tall trees wherein to build your +nests. And because you cannot sew or spin, God takes thought to clothe +you, you and your little ones. It must be, then, that your Creator loves +you much, since He has granted you so many benefits. Be on your guard +then against the sin of ingratitude, and strive always to give God +praise."</p> + +<p>And when the Saint ceased speaking, the birds made such signs as they +might, by spreading their wings and opening their beaks, to show their +love and pleasure; and when he had blessed them with the sign of the +cross, they sprang up, and singing songs of unspeakable sweetness, away +they streamed in a great cross to the four quarters of heaven.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> +<br /> +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> By William Canton, an English journalist and poet (1845- ).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_SERMON_OF_ST._FRANCIS" id="THE_SERMON_OF_ST._FRANCIS"></a>THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up soared the lark into the air,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A shaft of song, a winged prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if a soul, released from pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were flying back to heaven again.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">St. Francis heard; it was to him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An emblem of the Seraphim;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The upward motion of the fire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The light, the heat, the heart's desire.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Around Assisi's convent gate</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From moor and mere and darksome wood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Came flocking for their dole of food.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O brother birds," St. Francis said,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">"Ye come to me and ask for bread,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But not with bread alone to-day</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall ye be fed and sent away.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With manna of celestial words;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not mine, though mine they seem to be,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not mine, though they be spoken through me.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The great creator in your lays;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He giveth you your plumes of down,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He giveth you your wings to fly</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And breathe a purer air on high,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And careth for you everywhere</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who for yourselves so little care."</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With flutter of swift wings and songs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Together rose the feathered throngs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And, singing, scattered far apart;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He knew not if the brotherhood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His homily had understood;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He only knew that to one ear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The meaning of his words was clear.</span><br /> +</div></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> By Henry W. Longfellow.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Talk with your teacher about the life, work, and +influence of St. Francis. Refer to cyclopedias for information. +Read aloud the prose version of his sermon to the birds; the +poetical version. Compare the two versions. What is said in one +that is not said in the other?</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IN THE WOODS<a name="IN_THE_WOODS" id="IN_THE_WOODS"></a><a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></h2> + +<p>Years ago, when quite a youth, I was rambling in the woods one day with +my brothers, gathering black birch and wintergreens.</p> + +<p>As we lay upon the ground, gazing vaguely up into the trees, I caught +sight of a bird, the like of which I had never before seen or heard of. +It was the blue yellow-backed warbler, which I have found since; but to +my young fancy it seemed like some fairy bird, so curiously marked was +it, and so new and unexpected. I saw it a moment as the flickering +leaves parted, noted the white spot on its wing, and it was gone.</p> + +<p>It was a revelation. It was the first intimation I had had that the +woods we knew so well held birds that we knew not at all. Were our eyes +and ears so dull? Did we pass by the beautiful things in nature without +seeing them? Had we been blind then? There were the robin, the bluejay, +the yellowbird, and others familiar to every one; but who ever dreamed +that there were still others that not even the hunters saw, and whose +names few had ever heard?</p> + +<p>The surprise that awaits every close observer of birds, the thrill of +delight that accompanies it, and the feeling of fresh eager inquiry that +follows can hardly be awakened by any other pursuit.</p> + +<p>There is a fascination about it quite overpowering.</p> + +<p>It fits so well with other things—with fishing, hunting, farming, +walking, camping out—with all that takes one to the fields and the +woods. One may go blackberrying and make some rare discovery; or, while +driving his cow to pasture, hear a new song, or make a new observation. +Secrets lurk on all sides. There is news in every bush. Expectation is +ever on tiptoe. What no man ever saw may the next moment be revealed to +you.</p> + +<p>What a new interest this gives to the woods! How you long to explore +every nook and corner of them! One must taste it to understand. The +looker-on sees nothing to make such a fuss about. Only a little glimpse +of feathers and a half-musical note or two—why all this ado? It is not +the mere knowledge of birds that you get, but a new interest in the +fields and woods, the air, the sunshine, the healing fragrance and +coolness, and the getting away from the worry of life.</p> + +<p>Yesterday was an October day of rare brightness and warmth. I spent the +most of it in a wild, wooded gorge of Rock Creek. A tree which stood +upon the bank had dropped some of its fruit in the water. As I stood +there, half-leg deep, a wood duck came flying down the creek.</p> + +<p>Presently it returned, flying up; then it came back again, and sweeping +low around a bend, prepared to alight in a still, dark reach in the +creek which was hidden from my view. As I passed that way about half an +hour afterward, the duck started up, uttering its wild alarm note. In +the stillness I could hear the whistle of its wings and the splash of +the water when it took flight. Near by I saw where a raccoon had come +down to the water for fresh clams, leaving its long, sharp track in the +mud and sand. Before I had passed this hidden stretch of water, a pair +of strange thrushes flew up from the ground and perched on a low branch.</p> + +<p>Who can tell how much this duck, this footprint on the sand, and these +strange thrushes from the far North enhanced the interest and charm of +the autumn woods?</p> + +<p>Birds cannot be learned satisfactorily from books. The satisfaction is +in learning them from nature. One must have an original experience with +the birds. The books are only the guide, the invitation. But let me say +in the same breath that the books can by no manner of means be dispensed +with.</p> + +<p>In the beginning one finds it very difficult to identify a bird in any +verbal description. First find your bird; observe its ways, its song, +its calls, its flight, its haunts. Then compare with your book. In this +way the feathered kingdom may soon be conquered.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> By John Burroughs, an American writer on nature (1837- ).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: This and the selection which follows are fine examples +of descriptive writing. Read them so that your hearers will +understand every statement clearly and without special effort on +their part. Talk about the various objects that are mentioned, and +tell what you have learned about them from other sources.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>BEES AND FLOWERS<a name="BEES_AND_FLOWERS" id="BEES_AND_FLOWERS"></a><a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></h2> + +<p>Fancy yourself to be in a pretty country garden on a hot summer's +morning. Perhaps you have been walking, or reading, or playing, but it +is getting too hot now to do anything. So you have chosen the shadiest +nook under the walnut tree, close to some pretty flower bed.</p> + +<p>As you lie there you notice a gentle buzzing near you, and you see that +on the flower bed close by several bees are working busily among the +flowers. They do not seem to mind the heat, nor do they wish to rest; +and they fly so lightly, and look so happy over their work, that it is +pleasant to watch them.</p> + +<p>That great bumblebee takes it leisurely enough as she goes lumbering +along, poking her head into the larkspurs; she remains so long in each +that you might almost think she had fallen asleep. The brown hive-bee, +on the other hand, moves busily and quickly among the stocks, sweet +peas, and mignonette. She is evidently out on active duty, and means to +get all she can from each flower, so as to carry a good load back to the +hive. In some blossoms she does not stay a moment, but draws her head +back almost as soon as she has popped it in, as if to say, "No honey +there." But over other flowers she lingers a little, and then scrambles +out again with her drop of honey, and goes off to seek more.</p> + +<p>Let us watch her a little more closely. There are many different plants +growing in the flower bed, but, curiously enough, she does not go first +to one kind and then to another, but keeps to one the whole time.</p> + +<p>Now she flies away. Rouse yourself to follow her, and you will see she +takes her way back to the hive. We all know why she makes so many +journeys between the garden and the hive, and that she is collecting +drops of nectar from the flowers and carrying it to the hive to be +stored up in the honeycomb for the winter's food. When she comes back +again to the garden, we will follow her in her work among the flowers, +and see what she is doing for them in return for their gifts to her.</p> + +<p>No doubt you have already learned that plants can make better and +stronger seeds when they can get the pollen dust from other plants. But +I am sure that you will be very much surprised to hear that the colors, +the scent, and the curious shapes of the flowers are all so many baits +to attract insects. And for what reason? In order that the insects may +come and carry the pollen dust from one plant to another.</p> + +<p>So far as we know, it is entirely for this purpose that the plants form +honey in different parts of the flower. This food they prepare for the +insects, and then they have all sorts of contrivances to entice the +little creatures to come and get it. The plants hang out gay-colored +signs, as much as to say:—</p> + +<p>"Come to me, and I will give you honey, if you will bring me pollen dust +in exchange."</p> + +<p>If you watch the different kinds of grasses, sedges, and rushes, which +have such tiny flowers that you can scarcely see them, you will find +that no insects visit them. Neither will you ever find bees buzzing +round oak trees, elms, or birches. But on the pretty and sweet-smelling +apple blossoms you will find bees, wasps, and other insects.</p> + +<p>The reason of this is that grasses, sedges, rushes, and oak trees have a +great deal of pollen dust. As the wind blows them to and fro it wafts +the dust from one flower to another. And so these plants do not need to +give out honey, or to have gaudy or sweet-scented flowers to attract +insects.</p> + +<p>But the brilliant poppy, the large-flowered hollyhock, the flaunting +dandelion, and the bright blue forget-me-not,—all these are visited by +insects, which easily catch sight of them and hasten to sip their honey.</p> + +<p>We must not forget what the fragrance of the flowers can do. Have you +ever noticed the delicious odor which comes from beds of mignonette, +mint, or sweet alyssum? These plants have found another way of +attracting the insects; they have no need of bright colors, for their +fragrance is quite as true and certain a guide. You will be surprised if +you once begin to count them up, how many dull-looking flowers are +sweet-scented, while some gaudy flowers have little or no scent. Still +we find some flowers, like the beautiful lily, the lovely rose, and the +delicate hyacinth, which have color and fragrance and graceful shapes +all combined.</p> + +<p>But there are still other ways by which flowers secure the visits of +insects. Have you not observed that different flowers open and close at +different times? The daisy receives its name "day's eye" because it +opens at sunrise and closes at sunset, while the evening primrose +spreads out its flowers just as the daisy is going to bed. +<br /> +What do you think is the reason of this? If you go near a bed of evening +primroses just when the sun is setting, you will soon be able to guess. +They will then give out such a sweet odor that you will not doubt for a +moment that they are calling the evening moths to come and visit them. +The daisy, however, opens by day and is therefore visited by day +insects.</p> + +<p>Again, some flowers close whenever rain is coming. Look at the daisies +when a storm is threatening. As the sky grows dark and heavy, you will +see them shrink and close till the sun shines again. They do this +because in the center of the flower there is a drop of honey which would +be spoiled if it were washed by the rain.</p> + +<p>And now you will see why the cup-shaped flowers so often droop their +heads,—think of the snowdrop, the lily-of-the-valley, and a host of +others. How pretty they look with their bells hanging so modestly from +the slender stalk! They are bending down to protect the honey within +their cups.</p> + +<p>We are gradually learning that everything which a plant does has its +meaning, if we can only find it out. And when we are aware of this, a +flower garden may become a new world to us if we open our eyes to all +that is going on in it. And so we learn that even among insects and +flowers, those who do most for others receive most in return. The bee +and the flower do not reason about the matter; they only live their +little lives as nature guides them, helping and improving each other.</p> + +<p>I have been able to tell you but very little about the hidden work that +is going on around us, and you must not for a moment imagine that we +have fully explored the fairy land of nature. But at least we have +passed through the gates, and have learned that there is a world of +wonder which we may visit if we will. And it lies quite close to us, +hidden in every dewdrop and gust of wind, in every brook and valley, in +every little plant and animal.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> From "The Fairy Land of Nature," by Arabella B. Buckley.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Make a list of all the natural objects that are +mentioned in this selection. Read what is said of each. Describe as +many of them as you can in your own words. Tell what you have +observed about bees and flowers. The daisy that is referred to is +the true European daisy. The daisy, or whiteweed, of the United +States does not open and close in the manner here described.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONG OF THE RIVER<a name="SONG_OF_THE_RIVER" id="SONG_OF_THE_RIVER"></a><a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A river went singing a-down to the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i5">A-singing—low—singing—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the dim rippling river said softly to me,</span><br /> +<span class="i5">"I'm bringing, a-bringing—</span><br /> +<span class="i5">While floating along—</span><br /> +<span class="i5">A beautiful song</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To the shores that are white where the waves are so weary,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To the beach that is burdened with wrecks that are dreary.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"A song sweet and calm</span><br /> +<span class="i5">As the peacefullest psalm;</span><br /> +<span class="i5">And the shore that was sad</span><br /> +<span class="i5">Will be grateful and glad,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the weariest wave from its dreariest dream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will wake to the sound of the song of the stream;</span><br /> +<span class="i5">And the tempests shall cease</span><br /> +<span class="i5">And there shall be peace."</span><br /> +<span class="i5">From the fairest of fountains</span><br /> +<span class="i5">And farthest of mountains,</span><br /> +<span class="i5">From the stillness of snow</span><br /> +<span class="i5">Came the stream in its flow.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down the slopes where the rocks are gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Through the vales where the flowers are fair—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the sunlight flashed—where the shadows lay</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Like stories that cloud a face of care,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">The river ran on—and on—and on,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Day and night, and night and day.</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Going and going, and never gone,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Longing to flow to the "far away."</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Staying and staying, and never still,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Going and staying, as if one will</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea,"</span><br /> +<span class="i2">And another will whispered, "Stay with me"—</span><br /> +<span class="i2">And the river made answer, soft and low,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">"I go and stay—I stay and go."</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"But what is the song?" I said at last</span><br /> +<span class="i2">To the passing river that never passed;</span><br /> +<span class="i2">And a white, white wave whispered, "List to me,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">I'm a note in the song for the beautiful sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A song whose grand accents no earth din may sever,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the river flows on in the same mystic key</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That blends in one chord the 'forever and never.'"</span><br /> +</div></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> By Abram J. Ryan, an American clergyman and poet.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read aloud the three lines which introduce the song of +the river. Read them in such a manner as to call up a mental +picture of the river on its way to the sea. Read the first five +lines of the third stanza in a similar way, and tell what picture +is now called up in your mind. Now read the river's song. Read what +the white wave said. Read the whole poem with spirit and feeling.</p> + +<p>Notice the words "a-down," "a-singing," "a-bringing." What effect +is produced by the use of these unusual forms?</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE<a name="SONG_OF_THE_CHATTAHOOCHEE" id="SONG_OF_THE_CHATTAHOOCHEE"></a><a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Out of the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Down the valleys of Hall,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">I hurry amain to reach the plain,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Run the rapid and leap the fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Split at the rock and together again,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Accept my bed or narrow or wide,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">And flee from folly on every side</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With a lover's pain to attain the plain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Far from the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Far from the valleys of Hall.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">All down the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">All through the valleys of Hall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The rushes cried, "Abide, abide,"</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The willful waterweeds held me thrall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The loving laurel turned my tide,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ferns and the fondling grass said, "Stay,"</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The dewberry dipped for to work delay,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the little reeds sighed, "Abide, abide,"</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Here in the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Here in the valleys of Hall.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">High o'er the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Veiling the valleys of Hall,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The hickory told me manifold</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Fair tales of shade; the poplar tall</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Wrought me her shadowy self to hold;</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Said, "Pass not so cold, these manifold</span><br /> +<span class="i2">Deep shades of the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">These glades in the valleys of Hall."</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">And oft in the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And oft in the valleys of Hall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook stone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many a luminous jewel lone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruby, garnet, or amethyst)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Made lures with the lights of streaming stone</span><br /> +<span class="i1">In the clefts of the hills of Habersham,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">In the beds of the valleys of Hall.</span><br /> +</div></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> By Sidney Lanier, an American musician and poet +(1842-1881). From the <i>Poems of Sidney Lanier</i>, published by Charles +Scribner's Sons.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Compare this poem with the one which precedes it. +Compare them both with Tennyson's "Song of the Brook" ("Fifth +Reader," p. 249). Which is the most musical? Which is the best +simply as a description?</p> + +<p>Make a list of the unusual words in this last poem, and refer to +the dictionary for their meaning. In what state is the +Chattahoochee River? "Habersham" and "Hall" are the names of two +counties in the same state.</p> + +<p>If you have access to a library, find Southey's poem, "The Cataract +of Lodore," and read it aloud.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>WAR AND PEACE<a name="WAR_AND_PEACE" id="WAR_AND_PEACE"></a></h2> + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">War as the Mother of Valor and Civilization</span><a name="WAR_AS_THE_MOTHER_OF_VALOR_AND_CIVILIZATION" id="WAR_AS_THE_MOTHER_OF_VALOR_AND_CIVILIZATION"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></h3> + +<p>We still hear war extolled at times as the mother of valor and the prime +agency in the world's advancement. By it, we are told, civilization has +spread and nations have been created, slavery has been abolished and the +American Union preserved. It is even held that without war human +progress would have been impossible.</p> + +<p>The answer: Men were at first savages who preyed upon each other like +wild beasts, and so they developed a physical courage which they shared +with the brutes. Moral courage was unknown to them. War was almost their +sole occupation. Peace existed only for short periods that tribes might +regain strength to resume the sacred duty of killing each other.</p> + +<p>Advancement in civilization was impossible while war reigned. Only as +wars became less frequent and long intervals of peace supervened could +civilization, the mother of true heroism, take root. Civilization has +advanced just as war has receded, until in our day peace has become the +rule and war the exception.</p> + +<p>Arbitration of international disputes grows more and more in favor. +Successive generations of men now live and die without seeing war; and +instead of the army and navy furnishing the only careers worthy of +gentlemen, it is with difficulty that civilized nations can to-day +obtain a sufficient supply of either officers or men.</p> + +<p>In the past, man's only method for removing obstacles and attaining +desired ends was to use brute courage. The advance of civilization has +developed moral courage. We use more beneficent means than men did of +old. Britain in the eighteenth century used force to prevent American +independence. In more recent times she graciously grants Canada the +rights denied America.</p> + +<p>The United States also receives an award of the powers against China, +and, finding it in excess of her expenditures, in the spirit of newer +time, returns ten million dollars. Won by this act of justice, China +devotes the sum to the education of Chinese students in the republic's +universities. The greatest force is no longer that of brutal war, but +the supreme force of gentlemen and generosity—the golden rule.</p> + +<p>The pen is rapidly superseding the sword. Arbitration is banishing war. +More than five hundred international disputes have already been +peacefully settled. Civilization, not barbarism, is the mother of true +heroism. Our lately departed poet and disciple of peace, Richard Watson +Gilder, has left us the answer to the false idea that brute force +employed against our fellows ranks with heroic moral courage exerted to +save or serve them:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas said: "When roll of drum and battle's roar</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall cease upon the earth, oh, then no more</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The deed, the race, of heroes in the land."</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But scarce that word was breathed when one small hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lifted victorious o'er a giant wrong</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That had its victims crushed through ages long;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Some woman set her pale and quivering face,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Firm as a rock, against a man's disgrace;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A little child suffered in silence lest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His savage pain should wound a mother's breast;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Some quiet scholar flung his gauntlet down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And risked, in Truth's great name, the synod's frown;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A civic hero, in the calm realm of laws,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Did that which suddenly drew a world's applause;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And one to the pest his lithe young body gave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That he a thousand thousand lives might save.</span><br /> +</div></div> + +<p>On the field of carnage men lose all human instincts in the struggle to +protect themselves. The true heroism inspired by moral courage prompts +firemen, policemen, sailors, miners, and others to volunteer and risk +their lives to save the lives of their fellowmen. Such heroism is now of +everyday occurrence.</p> + +<p>In our age there is no more reason for permitting war between civilized +nations than for relaxing the reign of law within nations, which compels +men to submit their personal disputes to peaceful courts, and never +dreams that by so doing they will be made less heroic....</p> + +<p>When war ceases, the sense of human brotherhood will be strengthened and +"heroism" will no longer mean to kill, but only to serve or save our +fellows.</p> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Friendship Among Nations</span><a name="FRIENDSHIP_AMONG_NATIONS" id="FRIENDSHIP_AMONG_NATIONS"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></h3> + +<p>Let us suppose that four centuries ago some far-seeing prophet dared to +predict to the duchies composing the kingdom of France that the day +would come when they would no longer make war upon each other. Let us +suppose him saying:—</p> + +<p>"You will have many disputes to settle, interests to contend for, +difficulties to resolve; but do you know what you will select instead of +armed men, instead of cavalry, and infantry, of cannon, lances, pikes, +and swords?</p> + +<p>"You will select, instead of all this destructive array, a small box of +wood, which you will term a ballot-box, and from what shall issue—what? +An assembly—an assembly in which you shall all live; an assembly which +shall be, as it were, the soul of all; a supreme and popular council, +which shall decide, judge, resolve everything; which shall say to each, +'Here terminates your right, there commences your duty: lay down your +arms!'</p> + +<p>"And in that day you will all have one common thought, common interests, +a common destiny; you will embrace each other, and recognize each other +as children of the same blood and of the same race; that day you shall +no longer be hostile tribes—you will be a people; you will be no longer +merely Burgundy, Normandy, Brittany, Provence—you will be France!</p> + +<p>You will no longer make appeals to war; you will do so to civilization."</p> + +<p>If, at that period I speak of, some one had uttered these words, all men +would have cried out: "What a dreamer! what a dream! How little this +pretended prophet is acquainted with the human heart!" Yet time has gone +on and on, and we find that this dream has been realized.</p> + +<p>Well, then, at this moment we who are assembled here say to France, to +England, to Spain, to Italy, to Russia: "A day will come, when from your +hands also the arms they have grasped shall fall. A day will come, when +war shall appear as impossible, and will be as impossible, between Paris +and London, between St. Petersburg and Berlin, as it is now between +Rouen and Amiens, between Boston and Philadelphia.</p> + +<p>"A day will come, when you, France; you, Russia; you, Italy; you, +England; you, Germany; all of you nations of the continent, shall, +without losing your distinctive qualities and your glorious +individuality, be blended into a superior unity, and shall constitute an +European fraternity, just as Normandy, Brittany, Burgundy, Lorraine, +have been blended into France. A day will come when the only battle +field shall be the market open to commerce, and the mind open to new +ideas. A day will come when bullets and shells shall be replaced by +votes, by the universal suffrage of nations, by the arbitration of a +great sovereign senate.</p> + +<p>Nor is it necessary for four hundred years to pass away for that day to +come. We live in a period in which a year often suffices to do the work +of a century.</p> + +<p>Suppose that the people of Europe, instead of mistrusting each other, +entertaining jealousy of each other, hating each other, become fast +friends; suppose they say that before they are French or English or +German they are men, and that if nations form countries, human kind +forms a family. Suppose that the enormous sums spent in maintaining +armies should be spent in acts of mutual confidence. Suppose that the +millions that are lavished on hatred, were bestowed on love, given to +peace instead of war, given to labor, to intelligence, to industry, to +commerce, to navigation, to agriculture, to science, to art.</p> + +<p>If this enormous sum were expended in this manner, know you what would +happen? The face of the world would be changed. Isthmuses would be cut +through. Railroads would cover the continents; the merchant navy of the +globe would be increased a hundredfold. There would be nowhere barren +plains nor moors nor marshes. Cities would be found where now there are +only deserts. Asia would be rescued to civilization; Africa would be +rescued to man; abundance would gush forth on every side, from every +vein of the earth at the touch of man, like the living stream from the +rock beneath the rod of Moses.</p> + + +<h3>III. <span class="smcap">Soldier, Rest</span><a name="SOLDIER_REST" id="SOLDIER_REST"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dream of battled fields no more,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Days of danger, nights of waking.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In our isle's enchanted hall,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fairy strains of music fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Every sense in slumber dewing.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dream of fighting fields no more;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Morn of toil nor night of waking.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No rude sound shall reach thine ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Armor's clang, or war steed champing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Trump nor pibroch summon here</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Mustering clan or squadron tramping.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet the lark's shrill fife may come</span><br /> +<span class="i1">At the daybreak from the fallow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the bittern sound his drum,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Booming from the sedgy shallow.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruder sounds shall none be near,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Guards nor warders challenge here,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here's no war steed's neigh and champing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping.</span><br /> +</div></div> + + +<h3>IV. <span class="smcap">The Soldier's Dream</span><a name="THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM" id="THE_SOLDIERS_DREAM"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lowered,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Methought from the battle field's dreadful array,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way</span><br /> +<span class="i1">To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft</span><br /> +<span class="i1">In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore</span><br /> +<span class="i1">From my home and my weeping friends never to part;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stay, stay with us—rest, thou art weary and worn;"</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn,</span><br /> +<span class="i1">And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away.</span><br /> +</div></div> + + +<h3>V. <span class="smcap">How Sleep the Brave</span><a name="HOW_SLEEP_THE_BRAVE" id="HOW_SLEEP_THE_BRAVE"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">How sleep the brave who sink to rest</span><br /> +<span class="i3">By all their country's wishes blest!</span><br /> +<span class="i3">When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,</span><br /> +<span class="i3">Returns to deck their hallowed mold,</span><br /> +<span class="i3">She there shall dress a sweeter sod</span><br /> +<span class="i3">Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.</span><br /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">By fairy hands their knell is rung,</span><br /> +<span class="i3">By forms unseen their dirge is sung:</span><br /> +<span class="i3">There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i3">To bless the turf that wraps their clay,</span><br /> +<span class="i3">And Freedom shall awhile repair</span><br /> +<span class="i3">To dwell a weeping hermit there.</span><br /> +</div></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> By Andrew Carnegie, a Scottish-American manufacturer and<br /> +philanthropist (1837- ).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> By Victor Hugo, a celebrated French writer (1802-1885).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> By Sir Walter Scott, a Scottish novelist and poet<br /> +(1771-1832).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> By Thomas Campbell, a Scottish poet (1777-1844).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> By William Collins, an English poet (1721-1759).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Which one of these three poems requires to be read with +most spirit and enthusiasm? Which is the most pathetic? Which is +the most musical? Which calls up the most pleasing mental pictures?</p> + +<p>Talk with your teacher about the three authors of these poems, and +learn all you can about their lives and writings.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>EARLY TIMES IN NEW YORK.<a name="EARLY_TIMES_IN_NEW_YORK" id="EARLY_TIMES_IN_NEW_YORK"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></h2> + + +<p>In those good old days of simplicity and sunshine, a passion for +cleanliness was the leading principle in domestic economy, and the +universal test of an able housewife.</p> + +<p>The front door was never opened, except for marriages, funerals, New +Year's Day, the festival of St. Nicholas, or some such great occasion. +It was ornamented with a gorgeous brass knocker, which was curiously +wrought,—sometimes in the device of a dog, and sometimes in that of a +lion's head,—and daily burnished with such religious zeal that it was +often worn out by the very precautions taken for its preservation.</p> + +<p>The whole house was constantly in a state of inundation, under the +discipline of mops and brooms and scrubbing brushes; and the good +housewives of those days were a kind of amphibious animal, delighting +exceedingly to be dabbling in water,—insomuch that an historian of the +day gravely tells us that many of his townswomen grew to have webbed +fingers, "like unto ducks."</p> + +<p>The grand parlor was the <i>sanctum sanctorum</i>, where the passion for +cleaning was indulged without control. No one was permitted to enter +this sacred apartment, except the mistress and her confidential maid, +who visited it once a week for the purpose of giving it a thorough +cleaning. On these occasions they always took the precaution of leaving +their shoes at the door, and entering devoutly in their stocking feet.</p> + +<p>After scrubbing the floor, sprinkling it with fine white sand,—which +was curiously stroked with a broom into angles and curves and +rhomboids,—after washing the windows, rubbing and polishing the +furniture, and putting a new branch of evergreens in the fireplace, the +windows were again closed to keep out the flies, and the room was kept +carefully locked, until the revolution of time brought round the weekly +cleaning day.</p> + +<p>As to the family, they always entered in at the gate, and generally +lived in the kitchen. To have seen a numerous household assembled round +the fire, one would have imagined that he was transported to those happy +days of primeval simplicity which float before our imaginations like +golden visions.</p> + +<p>The fireplaces were of a truly patriarchal magnitude, where the whole +family, old and young, master and servant, black and white,—nay, even +the very cat and dog,—enjoyed a community of privilege, and had each a +right to a corner. Here the old burgher would sit in perfect silence, +puffing his pipe, looking in the fire with half-shut eyes, and thinking +of nothing, for hours together; the good wife, on the opposite side, +would employ herself diligently in spinning yarn or knitting stockings.</p> + +<p>The young folks would crowd around the hearth, listening with breathless +attention to some old crone of a negro, who was the oracle of the +family, and who, perched like a raven in a corner of the chimney, would +croak forth, for a long winter afternoon, a string of incredible stories +about New England witches, grisly ghosts, and bloody encounters among +Indians.</p> + +<p>In those happy days, fashionable parties were generally confined to the +higher classes, or <i>noblesse</i>; that is to say, such as kept their own +cows, and drove their own wagons. The company usually assembled at three +o'clock, and went away about six, unless it was in winter time, when the +fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might reach +home before dark.</p> + +<p>The tea table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with +slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming in +gravy. The company seated round the genial board, evinced their +dexterity in launching their forks at the fattest pieces in this mighty +dish,—in much the same manner that sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, or +our Indians spear salmon in the lakes.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple pies, or saucers full +of preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to boast an +enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat and called +doughnuts or <i>olykoeks</i>, a delicious kind of cake, at present little +known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families.</p> + +<p>The tea was served out of a majestic Delft teapot, ornamented with +paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending +pigs,—with boats sailing in the air, and houses built in the clouds, +and sundry other ingenious Dutch fancies. The beaux distinguished +themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot from a huge +copper teakettle. To sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid +beside each cup, and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with +great decorum; until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and +economic old lady, which was to suspend, by a string from the ceiling, a +large lump directly over the tea table, so that it could be swung from +mouth to mouth.</p> + +<p>At these primitive tea parties, the utmost propriety and dignity +prevailed,—no flirting nor coquetting; no romping of young ladies; no +self-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in +their pockets, nor amusing conceits and monkey divertisements of smart +young gentlemen, with no brains at all.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in their +rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woolen stockings; nor ever +opened their lips, excepting to say "<i>Yah, Mynheer</i>," or "<i>Yah, yah, +Vrouw</i>," to any question that was asked them; behaving in all things +like decent, well-educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them +tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the blue +and white tiles with which the fireplaces were decorated; wherein sundry +passages of Scripture were piously portrayed. Tobit and his dog figured +to great advantage; Haman swung conspicuously on his gibbet; and Jonah +appeared most manfully leaping from the whale's mouth, like Harlequin +through a barrel of fire.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> From Diedrich Knickerbocker's, "History of New York," by +Washington Irving.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Notes</span>: More than two hundred and fifty years have passed since the +"good old days" described in this selection. New York in 1660 was a +small place. It was called New Amsterdam, and its inhabitants were +chiefly Dutch people from Holland. Knickerbocker's "History of New +York" gives a delightfully humorous account of those early times.</p> + +<p>The festival of St. Nicholas occurs on December 6, and with the +Dutch colonists was equivalent to our Christmas.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Word Study</span>: <i>sanctum sanctorum</i>, a Latin expression meaning "holy +of holies," a most sacred place. +<br /> +<i>noblesse</i>, persons of high rank.<br /> +<br /> +<i>olykoeks</i> (<i>ŏl´ y cooks</i>), doughnuts, or crullers.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Mynheer</i> (<i>mīn hār´</i>), sir, Mr.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Vrouw</i> (<i>vrou</i>), madam, lady.<br /> +<br /> +<i>Tobit</i>, a pious man of ancient times whose story is related in +"The Book of Tobit."<br /> +<br /> +<i>Haman</i> (<i>ha´ man</i>), the prime minister of the king of Babylon, who +was hanged on a gibbet which he had prepared for another. See "The +Book of Esther."<br /> +<br /> +<i>Har´ le quin</i>, a clown well known in Italian comedy.<br /> +<br /> +Look in the dictionary for: <i>gorgeous</i>, <i>rhomboids</i>, <i>primeval</i>, +<i>patriarchal</i>, <i>burgher</i>, <i>crone</i>, <i>porpoises</i>, <i>beverage</i>, +<i>divertisements</i>.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A WINTER EVENING IN OLD NEW ENGLAND<a name="A_WINTER_EVENING_IN_OLD_NEW_ENGLAND" id="A_WINTER_EVENING_IN_OLD_NEW_ENGLAND"></a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shut in from all the world without,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sat the clean-winged hearth about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content to let the north wind roar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In baffled rage at pane and door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the red logs before us beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frost line back with tropic heat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ever, when a louder blast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shook beam and rafter as it passed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The merrier up its roaring draft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great throat of the chimney laughed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The house dog on his paws outspread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid to the fire his drowsy head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cat's dark silhouette on the wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A couchant tiger's seemed to fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for the winter fireside meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the andirons' straddling feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mug of cider simmered slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And apples sputtered in a row.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, close at hand, the basket stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nuts from brown October's woods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What matter how the night behaved?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What matter how the north wind raved?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow high, blow low, not all its snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 426px;"> +<img src="images/i082.jpg" width="426" height="600" alt="A Winter Evening in Old New England." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A Winter Evening in Old New England.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING<a name="THE_OLD-FASHIONED_THANKSGIVING" id="THE_OLD-FASHIONED_THANKSGIVING"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a></h2> + + +<p>I do not know but it is that old New England holiday of Thanksgiving +which, for one of New England birth, has most of home associations tied +up with it, and most of gleeful memories. I know that they are very +present ones.</p> + +<p>We all knew when it was coming; we all loved turkey—not Turkey on the +map, for which we cared very little after we had once bounded it—by the +Black Sea on the east, and by something else on the other sides—but +basted turkey, brown turkey, stuffed turkey. Here was richness!</p> + +<p>We had scored off the days until we were sure, to a recitation mark, +when it was due—well into the end of November, when winds would be +blowing from the northwest, with great piles of dry leaves all down the +sides of the street and in the angles of pasture walls.</p> + +<p>I cannot for my life conceive why any one should upset the old order of +things by marking it down a fortnight earlier. A man in the country +wants his crops well in and housed before he is ready to gush out with a +round, outspoken Thanksgiving; but everybody knows, who knows anything +about it, that the purple tops and the cow-horn turnips are, nine times +in ten, left out till the latter days of November, and husking not half +over.</p> + +<p>We all knew, as I said, when it was coming. We had a stock of empty +flour barrels on Town-hill stuffed with leaves, and a big pole set in +the ground, and a battered tar barrel, with its bung chopped out, to put +on top of the pole. It was all to beat the last year's bonfire—and it +did. The country wagoners had made their little stoppages at the back +door. We knew what was to come of that. And if the old cook—a monstrous +fine woman, who weighed two hundred if she weighed a pound—was brusque +and wouldn't have us "round," we knew what was to come of that, too. +Such pies as hers demanded thoughtful consideration: not very large, and +baked in scalloped tins, and with such a relishy flavor to them, as on +my honor, I do not recognize in any pies of this generation....</p> + +<p>The sermon on that Thanksgiving (and we all heard it) was long. We boys +were prepared for that too. But we couldn't treat a Thanksgiving sermon +as we would an ordinary one; we couldn't doze—there was too much ahead. +It seemed to me that the preacher made rather a merit of holding us in +check—with that basted turkey in waiting. At last, though, it came to +an end; and I believe Dick and I both joined in the doxology.</p> + +<p>All that followed is to me now a cloud of misty and joyful expectation, +until we took our places—a score or more of cousins and kinsfolk; and +the turkey, and celery, and cranberries, and what nots, were all in +place.</p> + +<p>Did Dick whisper to me as we went in, "Get next to me, old fellow"?</p> + +<p>I cannot say; I have a half recollection that he did. But bless me! what +did anybody care for what Dick said?</p> + +<p>And the old gentleman who bowed his head and said grace—there is no +forgetting him. And the little golden-haired one who sat at his +left—his pet, his idol—who lisped the thanksgiving after him, shall I +forget her, and the games of forfeit afterwards at evening that brought +her curls near to me?</p> + +<p>These fifty years she has been gone from sight, and is dust. What an +awful tide of Thanksgivings has drifted by since she bowed her golden +locks, and clasped her hand, and murmured, "Our Father, we thank thee +for this, and for all thy bounties!"</p> + +<p>Who else? Well, troops of cousins—good, bad, and indifferent. No man is +accountable for his cousins, I think; or if he is, the law should be +changed. If a man can't speak honestly of cousinhood, to the third or +fourth degree, what <i>can</i> he speak honestly of? Didn't I see little Floy +(who wore pea-green silk) make a saucy grimace when I made a false cut +at that rolypoly turkey drumstick and landed it on the tablecloth?</p> + +<p>There was that scamp Tom, too, who loosened his waistcoat before he went +into dinner. I saw him do it. Didn't he make faces at me, till he caught +a warning from Aunt Polly's uplifted finger?</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 422px;"> +<img src="images/i086.jpg" width="422" height="600" alt="A Thanksgiving Reunion." title="" /> +<span class="caption">A Thanksgiving Reunion.</span> +</div> + +<p>How should I forget that good, kindly Aunt Polly—very severe in her +turban, and with her meeting-house face upon her, but full of a great +wealth of bonbons and dried fruits on Saturday afternoons, in I know not +what capacious pockets; ample, too, in her jokes and in her laugh; +making that day a great maelstrom of mirth around her?</p> + +<p>H—— sells hides now, and is as rich as Crœsus, whatever that may +mean; but does he remember his venturesome foray for a little bit of +crisp roast pig that lay temptingly on the edge of the dish that day?</p> + +<p>There was Sarah, too,—turned of seventeen, education complete, looking +down on us all—terribly learned (I know for a fact that she kept Mrs. +Hemans in her pocket); terribly self-asserting, too. If she had not +married happily, and not had a little brood about her in after years +(which she did), I think she would have made one of the most terrible +Sorosians of our time. At least that is the way I think of it now, +looking back across the basted turkey (which she ate without gravy) and +across the range of eager Thanksgiving faces.</p> + +<p>There was Uncle Ned—no forgetting him—who had a way of patting a boy +on the head so that the patting reached clear through to the boy's +heart, and made him sure of a blessing hovering over. That was the +patting I liked. <i>That's</i> the sort of uncle to come to a Thanksgiving +dinner—the sort that eat double filberts with you, and pay up next day +by noon with a pocketknife or a riding whip. Hurrah for Uncle Ned!</p> + +<p>And Aunt Eliza—is there any keeping her out of mind? I never liked the +name much; but the face and the kindliness which was always ready to +cover, as well as she might, what wrong we did, and to make clear what +good we did, make me enrol her now—where she belongs evermore—among +the saints. So quiet, so gentle, so winning, making conquest of all of +us, because she never sought it; full of dignity, yet never asserting +it; queening it over all by downright kindliness of heart. What a wife +she would have made! Heigho! how we loved her, and made our boyish love +of her—a Thanksgiving!</p> + +<p>Were there oranges? I think there were, with green spots on the +peel—lately arrived from Florida. Tom boasted that he ate four. I dare +say he told the truth—he looked peaked, and was a great deal the worse +for the dinner next day, I remember.</p> + +<p>Was there punch, or any strong liquors? No; so far as my recollection +now goes, there was none.</p> + +<p>Champagne?</p> + +<p>I have a faint remembrance of a loud pop or two which set some cousinly +curls over opposite me into a nervous shake. Yet I would not like to +speak positively. Good bottled cider or pop beer may possibly account +for all the special phenomena I call to mind.</p> + +<p>Was there coffee, and were there olives? Not to the best of my +recollection; or, if present, I lose them in the glamour of mince pies +and Marlborough puddings.</p> + +<p>How we ever sidled away from that board when that feast was done I have +no clear conception. I am firm in the belief that thanksgiving was said +at the end, as at the beginning. I have a faint recollection of a gray +head passing out at the door, and of a fleece of golden curls beside +him, against which I jostle—not unkindly.</p> + +<p>Dark?</p> + +<p>Yes; I think the sun had gone down about the time when the mince pies +had faded.</p> + +<p>Did Dick and Tom and the rest of us come sauntering in afterwards when +the rooms were empty, foraging for any little tidbits of the feast that +might be left, the tables showing only wreck under the dim light of a +solitary candle?</p> + +<p>How we found our way with the weight of that stupendous dinner by us to +the heights of Town-hill it is hard to tell. But we did, and when our +barrel pile was fairly ablaze, we danced like young satyrs round the +flame, shouting at our very loudest when the fire caught the tar barrel +at the top, and the yellow pile of blaze threw its lurid glare over hill +and houses and town.</p> + +<p>Afterwards I have recollection of an hour or more in a snug square +parlor, which is given over to us youngsters and our games, dimly +lighted, as was most fitting; but a fire upon the hearth flung out a red +glory on the floor and on the walls.</p> + +<p>Was it a high old time, or did we only pretend that it was?</p> + +<p>Didn't I know little Floy in that pea-green silk, with my hands clasped +round her waist and my eyes blinded—ever so fast? Didn't I give Dick an +awful pinch in the leg, when I lay <i>perdu</i> under the sofa in another one +of those tremendous games? Didn't the door that led into the hall show a +little open gap from time to time—old faces peering in, looking very +kindly in the red firelight flaring on them? And didn't those we loved +best look oftenest? Don't they always?</p> + +<p>Well, well—we were fagged at last: little Floy in a snooze before we +knew it; Dick, pretending not to be sleepy, but gaping in a prodigious +way. But the romps and the fatigue made sleep very grateful when it came +at last: yet the sleep was very broken; the turkey and the nuts had +their rights, and bred stupendous Thanksgiving dreams. What gorgeous +dreams they were, to be sure!</p> + +<p>I seem to dream them again to-day.</p> + +<p>Once again I see the old, revered gray head bowing in utter +thankfulness, with the hands clasped.</p> + +<p>Once again, over the awful tide of intervening years—so full, and yet +so short—I seem to see the shimmer of <i>her</i> golden hair—an aureole of +light blazing on the borders of boyhood: "<i>For this, and all thy +bounties, our Father, we thank thee.</i>"</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> From "Bound Together," by Donald G. Mitchell, published by +Charles Scribner's Sons.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A THANKSGIVING<a name="A_THANKSGIVING" id="A_THANKSGIVING"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord, thou hast given me a cell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein to dwell—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little house, whose humble roof<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is weatherproof—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the spans of which I lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Both soft and dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thou, my chamber for to ward,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hast set a guard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me while I sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Low is my porch as is my fate—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Both void of state—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet the threshold of my door<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is worn by the poor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who hither come, and freely get<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good words or meat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like as my parlor, so my hall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kitchen's small.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little buttery, and therein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little bin.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which keeps my little loaf of bread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unchipt, unfled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some brittle sticks of thorn or brier<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make me a fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close by whose living coal I sit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glow like it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord, I confess too, when I dine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pulse is thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all those other bits that be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There placed by thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With guiltless mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spiced to the brink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That soils my land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And giv'st me for my bushel sown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Twice ten for one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All these and better thou dost send<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me to this end,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I should render for my part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thankful heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, fired with incense, I resign<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As wholly thine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the acceptance, that must be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My God, by thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> By Robert Herrick, an English poet (1591-1674).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>FIRST DAYS AT WAKEFIELD<a name="FIRST_DAYS_AT_WAKEFIELD" id="FIRST_DAYS_AT_WAKEFIELD"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></h2> + +<p><i>A proof that even the humblest fortune may grant happiness, which +depends not on circumstances but constitution.</i></p> + +<p>The place of our retreat was in a little neighborhood consisting of +farmers, who tilled their own grounds, and were equal strangers to +opulence and poverty. As they had almost all the conveniences of life +within themselves, they seldom visited towns or cities in search of +superfluity. Remote from the polite, they still retained the primeval +simplicity of manners; and frugal by habit, they scarcely knew that +temperance was a virtue.</p> + +<p>They wrought with cheerfulness on days of labor; but observed festivals +as intervals of idleness and pleasure. They kept up the Christmas carol, +sent true love knots on Valentine morning, ate pancakes on Shrovetide, +showed their wit on the first of April, and religiously cracked nuts on +Michaelmas Eve.</p> + +<p>Being apprised of our approach, the whole neighborhood came out to meet +their minister, dressed in their finest clothes, and preceded by a pipe +and tabor. A feast also was provided for our reception, at which we sat +cheerfully down; and what the conversation wanted in wit was made up in +laughter.</p> + +<p>Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a slopping bill, +sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river +before; on one side a meadow, on the other a green. My farm consisted of +about twenty acres of excellent land, having given a hundred pounds for +my predecessor's goodwill. Nothing could exceed the neatness of my +little inclosures, the elms and hedgerows appearing with inexpressible +beauty.</p> + +<p>My house consisted of but one story, and was covered with thatch, which +gave it an air of great snugness; the walls on the inside were nicely +whitewashed, and my daughters undertook to adorn them with pictures of +their own designing. Though the same room served us for parlor and +kitchen, that only made it the warmer. Besides, as it was kept with the +utmost neatness, the dishes, plates, and coppers being well scoured, and +all disposed in bright rows on the shelves, the eye was agreeably +relieved, and did not want richer furniture. There were three other +apartments,—one for my wife and me, another for our two daughters, and +the third, with two beds, for the rest of the children.</p> + +<p>The little republic to which I gave laws was regulated in the following +manner: by sunrise we all assembled in our common apartment, the fire +being previously kindled by the servant. After we had saluted each other +with proper ceremony—for I always thought fit to keep up some +mechanical forms of good breeding, without which freedom ever destroys +friendship—we all bent in gratitude to that Being who gave us another +day.</p> + +<p>This duty being performed, my son and I went to pursue our usual +industry abroad, while my wife and daughters employed themselves in +providing breakfast, which was always ready at a certain time. I allowed +half an hour for this meal and an hour for dinner, which time was taken +up in innocent mirth between my wife and daughters, and in philosophical +arguments between my son and me.</p> + +<p>As we rose with the sun, so we never pursued our labors after it was +gone down, but returned home to the expecting family, where smiling +looks, a neat hearth, and pleasant fire were prepared for our reception. +Nor were we without guests: sometimes Farmer Flamborough, our talkative +neighbor, and often the blind piper would pay us a visit, and taste our +gooseberry wine, for the making of which we had lost neither the receipt +nor the reputation.</p> + +<p>The night was concluded in the manner we began the morning, my youngest +boys being appointed to read the lessons of the day, and he that read +loudest, distinctest and best was to have a halfpenny on Sunday to put +in the poor's box.</p> + +<p>When Sunday came it was indeed a day of finery, which all my sumptuary +edicts could not restrain. How well soever I fancied my lectures against +pride had conquered the vanity of my daughters, yet I still found them +secretly attached to all their former finery; they still loved laces, +ribbons, bugles, and catgut; my wife herself retained a passion for her +crimson paduasoy, because I formerly happened to say it became her.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;"> +<img src="images/i096.jpg" width="700" height="447" alt="The First Sunday at Wakefield." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The First Sunday at Wakefield.</span> +</div> + +<p>The first Sunday in particular their behavior served to mortify me; I +had desired my girls the preceding night to be dressed early the next +day; for I always loved to be at church a good while before the rest of +the congregation. They punctually obeyed my directions; but when we were +to assemble in the morning at breakfast, down came my wife and daughters +dressed out all in their former splendor; their hair plastered up with +pomatum, their faces patched to taste, their trains bundled up in a heap +behind, and rustling at every motion.</p> + +<p>I could not help smiling at their vanity, particularly that of my wife, +from whom I expected more discretion. In this exigence, therefore, my +only resource was to order my son, with an important air, to call our +coach. The girls were amazed at the command; but I repeated it with more +solemnity than before.</p> + +<p>"Surely, my dear, you jest," cried my wife; "we can walk it perfectly +well; we want no coach to carry us now."</p> + +<p>"You mistake, child," returned I, "we do want a coach; for if we walk to +church in this trim, the very children in the parish will hoot after +us."</p> + +<p>"Indeed," replied my wife, "I always imagined that my Charles was fond +of seeing his children neat and handsome about him."</p> + +<p>"You may be as neat as you please," interrupted I, "and I shall love you +the better for it; but all this is not neatness, but frippery. These +rufflings and pinkings and patchings will only make us hated by all the +wives of all our neighbors. No, my children," continued I, more gravely, +"those gowns may be altered into something of a plainer cut; for finery +is very unbecoming in us, who want the means of decency. I do not know +whether such flouncing and shredding is becoming even in the rich, if we +consider, upon a moderate calculation, that the nakedness of the +indigent world may be clothed from the trimmings of the vain."</p> + +<p>This remonstrance had the proper effect; they went with great composure, +that very instant, to change their dress; and the next day I had the +satisfaction of finding my daughters, at their own request, employed in +cutting up their trains into Sunday waistcoats for Dick and Bill, the +two little ones; and what was still more satisfactory, the gowns seemed +improved by this curtailing.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> From "The Vicar of Wakefield," by Oliver Goldsmith, a +celebrated English author (1728-1774).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: In this selection and the two which follow we have +three other specimens of English prose fiction. You will observe +that they are very different in style, as well as in subject, from +the three specimens at the beginning of this book. Compare them +with one another. Reread the selections from Dickens, Thackeray, +and George Eliot, and compare them with these. Which do you like +best? Why?</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>DOUBTING CASTLE<a name="DOUBTING_CASTLE" id="DOUBTING_CASTLE"></a><a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></h2> + + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">The Pilgrims lose their Way</span></h3> + +<p>Now I beheld in my dream that Christian and Hopeful had not journeyed +far until they came where the river and the way parted, at which they +were not a little sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the +way from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their +travel; so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of +the way. Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for a better way.</p> + +<p>Now, a little before them, there was in the left hand of the road a +meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called +By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, "If this meadow lieth +along by our wayside, let us go over into it." Then he went to the stile +to see, and behold a path lay along by the way on the other side of the +fence.</p> + +<p>"'Tis according to my wish," said Christian; "here is the easiest going; +come, good Hopeful, and let us go over."</p> + +<p>"But how if this path should lead us out of the way?"</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> is not likely," said the other. "Look, doth it not go along by +the wayside?"</p> + +<p>So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the +stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found +it very easy for their feet; and withal they, looking before them, +espied a man walking as they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence: so +they called after him, and asked him whither that way led.</p> + +<p>He said, "To the Celestial Gate."</p> + +<p>"Look," said Christian, "did not I tell you so?—by this you may see we +are right."</p> + +<p>So they followed, and he went before them. But, behold, the night came +on, and it grew very dark; so that they who were behind lost sight of +them that went before. He, therefore, that went before—Vain-Confidence +by name—not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, and was +dashed in pieces with his fall.</p> + +<p>Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall; so they called to know the +matter. But there was none to answer, only they heard a groan.</p> + +<p>Then said Hopeful, "Where are we now?"</p> + +<p>Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of +the way; and now it began to rain and thunder and lightning in a most +dreadful manner, and the water rose amain, by reason of which the way of +going back was very dangerous.</p> + +<p>Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark and the flood so +high, that in their going back they had like to have been drowned nine +or ten times. Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get back +again to the stile that night. Wherefore, at last lighting under a +little shelter, they sat down there until daybreak. But, being weary, +they fell asleep.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 374px;"> +<img src="images/i101.jpg" width="374" height="550" alt="In the Giant's Dungeon." title="" /> +<span class="caption">In the Giant's Dungeon.</span> +</div> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">In the Giant's Dungeon</span></h3> + +<p>Now there was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called +Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair; and it was in his +grounds they now were sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up in the morning +early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and +Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice, he bid +them awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his +grounds.</p> + +<p>They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way.</p> + +<p>Then said the giant, "You have this night trespassed on me, by trampling +in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me."</p> + +<p>So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also +had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The giant, +therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, in a +very dark dungeon.</p> + +<p>Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without +one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they +did: they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends +and acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So, when he +was gone to bed, he told his wife that he had taken a couple of +prisoners, and had cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his +grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best do to them. So she +asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound; +and he told her. Then she counseled him, that when he arose in the +morning he should beat them without mercy.</p> + +<p>So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and goes +into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if +they were dogs, although they never gave him an unpleasant word. Then he +fell upon them, and beat them fearfully, in such sort that they were not +able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done he +withdraws, and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn +under their distress. So all that day they spent their time in nothing +but sighs and bitter lamentations.</p> + +<p>The next night she, talking with her husband further about them, and +understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them +to make away with themselves. So, when morning was come, he goes to them +in a surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with +the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them that, +since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way +would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, +halter, or poison: "for why," he said, "should you choose to live, +seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?"</p> + +<p>But they desired him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, +and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, but +that he fell into one of his fits, and lost for a time the use of his +hands. Wherefore he withdrew, and left them, as before, to consider what +to do.</p> + +<p>Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best +to take his counsel or no. But they soon resolved to reject it; for it +would be very wicked to kill themselves; and, besides, something might +soon happen to enable them to make their escape.</p> + +<p>Well, towards evening the giant goes down to the dungeon again, to see +if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there, he found +them alive. I say, he found them alive; at which he fell into a grievous +rage, and told them that, seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it +should be worse with them than if they had never been born.</p> + +<p>At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a +swoon; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their +discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take +it or no. Now Christian again seemed for doing it, but Hopeful reminded +him of the hardships and terrors he had already gone through, and said +that they ought to bear up with patience as well as they could, and +steadily reject the giant's wicked counsel.</p> + +<p>Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, +she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his +counsel. To this he replied, "They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather +to bear all hardships than to make away themselves."</p> + +<p>Then said she, "Take them into the castle yard to-morrow, and show them +the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched, and +make them believe, thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done +their fellows before them."</p> + +<p>So when morning has come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them +into the castle yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. +"These," said he, "were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed +on my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in +pieces; and so within ten days I will do to you. Get you down to your +den again."</p> + +<p>And with that he beat them all the way thither.</p> + +<p>Now, when night was come, Mrs. Diffidence and her husband began to renew +their discourse of their prisoners. The old giant wondered that he could +neither by his blows nor by his counsel bring them to an end.</p> + +<p>And with that his wife replied, "I fear," said she, "that they live in +hopes that some will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks +about them, by the means of which they hope to escape."</p> + +<p>"And sayest thou so, my dear?" said the giant; "I will therefore search +them in the morning."</p> + +<p>Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in +prayer till almost break of day.</p> + +<p>Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, +brake out into a passionate speech: "What a fool am I, thus to lie in a +dungeon! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am +persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle."</p> + +<p>Then said Hopeful, "That's good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy +bosom and try."</p> + +<p>Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the +dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door +flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out.</p> + +<p>After that, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too, but +that lock went desperately hard; yet the key did open it. Then they +thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed; but that gate, as +it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, +hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his +fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then +they went on, and came to the King's highway, again, and so were safe.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> From "The Pilgrim's Progress," by John Bunyan, a famous +English preacher and writer (1628-1688).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: What peculiarities do you observe in Bunyan's style of +writing? Select the three most striking passages in this story, and +read them with spirit and correct expression.</p> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>SHOOTING WITH THE LONGBOW<a name="SHOOTING_WITH_THE_LONGBOW" id="SHOOTING_WITH_THE_LONGBOW"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a></h2> + +<p>Proclamation was made that Prince John, suddenly called by high and +peremptory public duties, held himself obliged to discontinue the +entertainments of to-morrow's festival: nevertheless, that, unwilling so +many good yeomen should depart without a trial of skill, he was pleased +to appoint them, before leaving the ground, presently to execute the +competition of archery intended for the morrow. To the best archer a +prize was to be awarded, being a bugle-horn, mounted with silver, and a +silken baldric richly ornamented with a medallion of St. Hubert, the +patron of sylvan sport.</p> + +<p>More than thirty yeomen at first presented themselves as competitors, +several of whom were rangers and underkeepers in the royal forests of +Needwood and Charnwood. When, however, the archers understood with whom +they were to be matched, upwards of twenty withdrew themselves from the +contest, unwilling to encounter the dishonor of almost certain defeat.</p> + +<p>The diminished list of competitors for sylvan fame still amounted to +eight. Prince John stepped from his royal seat to view more nearly the +persons of these chosen yeomen, several of whom wore the royal livery. +Having satisfied his curiosity by this investigation, he looked for the +object of his resentment, whom he observed standing on the same spot, +and with the same composed countenance which he had exhibited upon the +preceding day.</p> + +<p>"Fellow," said Prince John, "I guessed by thy insolent babble thou wert +no true lover of the longbow, and I see thou darest not adventure thy +skill among such merry men as stand yonder."</p> + +<p>"Under favor, sir," replied the yeoman, "I have another reason for +refraining to shoot, besides the fearing discomfiture and disgrace."</p> + +<p>"And what is thy other reason?" said Prince John, who, for some cause +which perhaps he could not himself have explained, felt a painful +curiosity respecting this individual.</p> + +<p>"Because," replied the woodsman, "I know not if these yeomen and I are +used to shoot at the same marks; and because, moreover, I know not how +your grace might relish the winning of a third prize by one who has +unwittingly fallen under your displeasure."</p> + +<p>Prince John colored as he put the question, "What is thy name, yeoman?"</p> + +<p>"Locksley," answered the yeoman.</p> + +<p>"Then, Locksley," said Prince John, "thou shalt shoot in thy turn, when +these yeomen have displayed their skill. If thou carriest the prize, I +will add to it twenty nobles; but if thou losest it, thou shalt be +stripped of thy Lincoln green, and scourged out of the lists with +bowstrings, for a wordy and insolent braggart."</p> + +<p>"And how if I refuse to shoot on such a wager?" said the yeoman. "Your +grace's power, supported, as it is, by so many men at arms, may indeed +easily strip and scourge me, but cannot compel me to bend or to draw my +bow."</p> + +<p>"If thou refusest my fair proffer," said the prince, "the provost of the +lists shall cut thy bowstring, break thy bow and arrows, and expel thee +from the presence as a faint-hearted craven."</p> + +<p>"This is no fair chance you put on me, proud prince," said the yeoman, +"to compel me to peril myself against the best archers of Leicester and +Staffordshire, under the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me. +Nevertheless, I will obey your pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Look to him close, men at arms," said Prince John, "his heart is +sinking; I am jealous lest he attempt to escape the trial. And do you, +good fellows, shoot boldly round; a buck and a butt of wine are ready +for your refreshment in yonder tent, when the prize is won."</p> + +<p>A target was placed at the upper end of the southern avenue which led to +the lists. The contending archers took their station in turn, at the +bottom of the southern access; the distance between that station and the +mark allowing full distance for what was called a "shot at rovers." The +archers, having previously determined by lot their order of precedence, +were to shoot each three shafts in succession. The sports were regulated +by an officer of inferior rank, termed the provost of the games; for the +high rank of the marshals of the lists would have been held degraded had +they condescended to superintend the sports of the yeomanry.</p> + +<p>One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts +yeomanlike and bravely. Of twenty-four arrows shot in succession, ten +were fixed in the target, and the others ranged so near it that, +considering the distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery.</p> + +<p>Of the ten shafts which hit the target, two within the inner ring were +shot by Hubert, a forester, who was accordingly pronounced victorious.</p> + +<p>"Now, Locksley," said Prince John to the bold yeoman, with a bitter +smile, "wilt thou try conclusions with Hubert, or wilt thou yield up +bow, baldric, and quiver to the provost of the sports?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"A man can but do his best," answered Hubert; "but my grandsire drew a +good longbow at Hastings, and I trust not to dishonor his memory."</p> + +<p>The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size +placed in its room. Hubert, who, as victor in the first trial of skill, +had the right to shoot first, 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 center of grasping place was nigh level with his face, he drew +the bowstring to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air, and +lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the +center.</p> + +<p>"You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert," said his antagonist, +bending his bow, "or that had been a better shot."</p> + +<p>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 instant that the shaft left the bowstring, +yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which +marked the center than that of Hubert.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Hubert had but one set of speech for all occasions. "An your highness +were to hang me," he said, "a man can but do his best. Nevertheless, my +grandsire drew a good bow—"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and, not neglecting the caution +which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary +allowance for a very light breath of wind which had just arisen, and +shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very center of the +target. +<br /> +"A Hubert! a Hubert!" shouted the populace, more interested in a known +person than in a stranger. "In the clout!—in the clout! A Hubert +forever!"<br /> +<br /> +"Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley," said the prince, with an +insulting smile.</p> + +<p>"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. +The people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful +dexterity, that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their +usual clamor.</p> + +<p>"This must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood," whispered the +yeomen to each other; "such archery was never seen since a bow was first +bent in Britain!"</p> + +<p>"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 to try a shot at it."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Prince John made a signal that some attendants should follow him, in +case of his escape; but the cry of "Shame! shame!" which burst from the +multitude induced him to alter his ungenerous purpose.</p> + +<p>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 with great composure, observing, at the same time, +that to ask a good woodsman to shoot at a target so broad as had +hitherto been used was to put shame upon his skill.</p> + +<p>"For my own part," said he, "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.</p> + +<p>"A child of seven years old might hit yonder target with a headless +shaft; but," he added, walking deliberately to the other end of the +lists and sticking the willow wand upright in the ground, "he that hits +that rod at fivescore yards, I call him an archer fit to bear both bow +and quiver before a king, and it were the stout King Richard himself!"</p> + +<p>"My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings, +and never shot at such a mark in his life; 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 the edge of our parson's whittle, or at a wheat +straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can +hardly see."</p> + +<p>"Cowardly dog!" exclaimed 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. However it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of +superior skill."</p> + +<p>"'A man can but do his best!' as Hubert says," answered Locksley.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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 bodyguard, and be near to our person; +for never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct a +shaft."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> From "Ivanhoe," by Sir Walter Scott.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Compare this selection with the two which precede it. +"Pilgrim's Progress," "The Vicar of Wakefield," and "Ivanhoe" rank +high among the world's most famous books. Notice how long ago each +was written. Talk with your teacher about Bunyan, Goldsmith, and +Scott—their lives and their writings.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A CHRISTMAS HYMN<a name="A_CHRISTMAS_HYMN" id="A_CHRISTMAS_HYMN"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was the calm and silent night!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Seven hundred years and fifty-three<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had Rome been growing up to might,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And now was queen of land and sea.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sound was heard of clashing wars—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Held undisturbed their ancient reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Centuries ago.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i116.jpg" width="600" height="332" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas in the calm and silent night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The senator of haughty Rome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impatient urged his chariot's flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From lordly revel rolling home;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphal arches, gleaming, swell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His breast with thoughts of boundless sway;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What recked the Roman what befell<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A paltry province far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Centuries ago?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i117.jpg" width="600" height="298" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within that province far away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Went plodding home a weary boor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A streak of light before him lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fallen through a half-shut stable door<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across his path. He paused—for naught<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Told what was going on within;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How keen the stars, his only thought,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The air how cold and calm and thin,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Centuries ago!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, strange indifference! low and high<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Drowsed over common joys and cares;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth was still—but knew not why;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The world was listening unawares.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How calm a moment may precede<br /></span> +<span class="i1">One that shall thrill the world forever!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that still moment none would heed<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Man's doom was linked no more to sever,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Centuries ago.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i118.jpg" width="600" height="313" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is the calm and solemn night:<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A thousand bells ring out and throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their joyous peals abroad, and smite<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The darkness—charmed and holy now!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night that erst no name had worn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To it a happy name is given;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in that stable lay, newborn,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In the solemn midnight,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Centuries ago.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> By Alfred Domett, (dŏm´et), an English writer +(1811-1887).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHRISTMAS EVE AT FEZZIWIG'S<a name="CHRISTMAS_EVE_AT_FEZZIWIGS" id="CHRISTMAS_EVE_AT_FEZZIWIGS"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></h2> + + +<p>Old Fezziwig in his warehouse laid down his pen, and looked up at the +clock which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted +his waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ of +benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial +voice:—</p> + +<p>"Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"</p> + +<p>Ebenezer came briskly in, followed by his fellow-'prentice.</p> + +<p>"Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night. Christmas Eve, +Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up," cried old +Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack +Robinson."</p> + +<p>You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged into +the street with the shutters—one, two, three—had 'em in their +places—four, five, six—barred 'em and pinned 'em—seven, eight, +nine—and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like +race horses.</p> + +<p>"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from his desk, with +wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room +here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!"</p> + +<p>Clear away? There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or +couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in +a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from +public life forevermore. The floor was swept and watered, the lamps were +trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug +and warm, and dry and bright, as any ballroom you would desire to see +upon a winter's night.</p> + +<p>In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk, and +made an orchestra of it. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial +smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came +the six young followers, whose hearts they broke. In came all the young +men and young women employed in the business. In came the housemaid, +with her cousin the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's +particular friend the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who +was suspected of not having enough to eat from his master. In they all +came, one after another—some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some +awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling. In they all came, anyhow and +everyhow.</p> + +<p>Away they all went, twenty couples at once; down the middle and up +again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old +top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting +off again as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a +bottom one to help them!</p> + +<p>When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to +stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" Then there were more dances, and +there were forfeits, and more dances; and there was cake, and there was +a great piece of cold roast, and there was a great piece of cold boiled, +and there were mince pies and other delicacies. But the great effect of +the evening came after the roast and the boiled, when the fiddler, +artful dog, struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Mr. Fezziwig +stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good +stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of +partners; people who were not to be trifled with—people who <i>would</i> +dance, and had no notion of walking.</p> + +<p>But if they had been twice as many—aye, four times—old Mr. Fezziwig +would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to +<i>her</i>, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If +that's not high praise, tell me higher and I'll use it.... And when Mr. +Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance—advance and +retire, both hands to your partner, bow and curtsy, thread the needle, +and back to your place—Fezziwig "cut" so deftly that he appeared to +wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again without a stagger.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;"> +<img src="images/i122.jpg" width="393" height="600" alt="Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's.</span> +</div> + +<p>When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. +Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and +shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, +wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the +two apprentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices +died away and the lads were left to their beds—which were under a +counter in the back shop.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> From "A Christmas Carol," by Charles Dickens.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE CHRISTMAS HOLLY<a name="THE_CHRISTMAS_HOLLY" id="THE_CHRISTMAS_HOLLY"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Come give the holly a song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For it helps to drive stern winter away,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With his garment so somber and long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It peeps through the trees with its berries of red,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And its leaves of burnished green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the flowers and fruits have long been dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And not even the daisy is seen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That hangs over peasant and king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glittering boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To the Christmas holly we'll sing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> By Eliza Cook, an English poet (1818-1889).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Imagine that you see Mr. Fezziwig with his apprentices +preparing for the Christmas festivities. What is your opinion of +him? Now read the story, paragraph by paragraph, trying to make it +as interesting to your hearers as a real visit to Fezziwig +warehouse would have been.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE NEW YEAR'S DINNER PARTY<a name="THE_NEW_YEARS_DINNER_PARTY" id="THE_NEW_YEARS_DINNER_PARTY"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a></h2> + + +<p>The Old Year being dead, the New Year came of age, which he does by +Calendar Law as soon as the breath is out of the old gentleman's body. +Nothing would serve the youth but he must give a dinner upon the +occasion, to which all the Days of the Year were invited.</p> + +<p>The Festivals, whom he appointed as his stewards, were mightily taken +with the notion. They had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in +providing mirth and cheer for mortals below; and it was time that they +should have a taste of their bounty.</p> + +<p>All the Days came to dinner. Covers were provided for three hundred and +sixty-five guests at the principal table; with an occasional knife and +fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February.</p> + +<p>I should have told you that cards of invitation had been sent out. The +carriers were the Hours—twelve as merry little whirligig footpages as +you should desire to see. They went all round, and found out the persons +invited well enough, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, +and a few such Movables, who had lately shifted their quarters.</p> + +<p>Well, they were all met at last, four Days, five Days, all sorts of +Days, and a rare din they made of it. There was nothing but "Hail! +fellow Day!" "Well met, brother Day! sister Day!" only Lady Day kept a +little on the aloof and seemed somewhat scornful. Yet some said that +Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came in a silk suit, white and gold, +like a queen on a frost-cake, all royal and glittering.</p> + +<p>The rest came, some in green, some in white—but Lent and his family +were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days came in dripping, and Sunshiny +Days helped them to change their stockings. Wedding Day was there in his +marriage finery. Pay Day came late, as he always does. Doomsday sent +word he might be expected.</p> + +<p>April Fool (as my lord's jester) took upon himself to marshal the +guests. And wild work he made of it; good Days, bad Days, all were +shuffled together. He had stuck the Twenty-first of June next to the +Twenty-second of December, and the former looked like a Maypole by the +side of a marrow bone. Ash Wednesday got wedged in betwixt Christmas and +Lord Mayor's Day.</p> + +<p>At another part of the table, Shrove Tuesday was helping the Second of +September to some broth, which courtesy the latter returned with the +delicate thigh of a pheasant. The Last of Lent was springing upon +Shrovetide's pancakes; April Fool, seeing this, told him that he did +well, for pancakes were proper to a good fry-day.</p> + +<p>May Day, with that sweetness which is her own, made a neat speech +proposing the health of the founder. This being done, the lordly New +Year from the upper end of the table, in a cordial but somewhat lofty +tone, returned thanks.</p> + +<p>They next fell to quibbles and conundrums. The question being proposed, +who had the greatest number of followers—the Quarter Days said there +could be no question as to that; for they had all the creditors in the +world dogging their heels. But April Fool gave it in favor of the Forty +Days before Easter; because the debtors in all cases outnumbered the +creditors, and they kept Lent all the year.</p> + +<p>At last, dinner being ended, the Days called for their cloaks, and great +coats, and took their leaves. Lord Mayor's Day went off in a Mist as +usual; Shortest Day in a deep black Fog, which wrapped the little +gentleman all round like a hedgehog.</p> + +<p>Two Vigils, or watchmen, saw Christmas Day safe home. Another Vigil—a +stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve of St. Christopher—escorted Ash +Wednesday.</p> + +<p>Longest Day set off westward in beautiful crimson and gold—the rest, +some in one fashion, some in another, took their departure.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> By Charles Lamb, an English essayist and humorist +(1775-1834).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: What holidays are named in this selection? What +holidays do you know about that were not present at this dinner? +Refer to the dictionary and learn about all the days here +mentioned. Select the humorous passages in this story, and tell why +you think they are humorous.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE TOWN PUMP<a name="THE_TOWN_PUMP" id="THE_TOWN_PUMP"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></h2> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">Scene.</span>—<i>The corner of two principal streets. The Town Pump talking +through its nose.</i>]</p> + +<p>Noon, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too, by those +hot sunbeams which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head, and almost make +the water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public +characters have a tough time of it! And among all the town officers, +chosen at the annual meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single +year, the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed in perpetuity, +upon the Town Pump?</p> + +<p>The title of town treasurer is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best +treasure the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to make me their +chairman since I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to +him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire department, and one of +the physicians of the board of health. As a keeper of the peace all +water drinkers confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the +duties of the town clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they am +pasted on my front.</p> + +<p>To speak within bounds, I am chief person of the municipality, and +exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my brother officers by the +cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my +business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or +winter, nobody seeks me in vain; for, all day long I am seen at the +busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich +and poor alike; and at night I hold a lantern over my head, to show +where I am, and to keep people out of the gutters.</p> + +<p>At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for +whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram seller +on the public square, on a muster day, I cry aloud to all and sundry, in +my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice, "Here it is, +gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk +up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale +of father Adam! better than cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong beer, or +wine of any price; here it is by the hogshead or the single glass, and +not a cent to pay. Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves!"</p> + +<p>It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they +come. A hot day, gentlemen. Quaff and away again, so as to keep +yourselves in a nice, cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another +cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as +it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of +miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and +stopped at the running brooks and well curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat +without and fire within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or +melted down to nothing at all—in the fashion of a jellyfish.</p> + +<p>Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench +the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup +of mine. Welcome, most rubicund sir! You and I have been strangers +hitherto; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a +closer intimacy till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent.</p> + +<p>Mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet, +and is converted quite into steam in the miniature Tophet, which you +mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an honest +toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any other kind of dramshop, +spend the price of your children's food for a swig half so delicious? +Now, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavor of cold +water. Good-by; and whenever you are thirsty, recollect that I keep a +constant supply at the old stand.</p> + +<p>Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are just let loose from school, and +come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain +taps of the ferule, and other schoolboy troubles, in a draft from the +Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life; take it, and +may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than +now.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 407px;"> +<img src="images/i130.jpg" width="407" height="600" alt="The Town Pump." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Town Pump.</span> +</div> + +<p>There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your place to this +elderly gentleman, who treads so tenderly over the paving stones that I +suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! he limps by without so much +as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers were meant only for people +who have no wine cellars.</p> + +<p>Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope! Go, draw the cork, tip the +decanter; but when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be no +affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillation of the gout, +it is all one to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue +lolling out, does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind legs +and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away +again! Jowler, did your worship ever have the gout?</p> + +<p>Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my stream of eloquence, and +spout forth a stream of water, to replenish the trough for this teamster +and his two yoke of oxen, who have come all the way from Staunton, or +somewhere along that way. No part of my business gives me more pleasure +than the watering of cattle. Look! how rapidly they lower the watermark +on the sides of the trough, till their capacious stomachs are moistened +with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afford time to breathe, with +sighs of calm enjoyment! Now they roll their quiet eyes around the brim +of their monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper.</p> + +<p>I hold myself the grand reformer of the age. From the Town Pump, as from +other sources of water supply, must flow the stream that will cleanse +our earth of a vast portion of the crime and anguish which have gushed +from the fiery fountains of the still. In this mighty enterprise, the +cow shall be my great confederate. Milk and water!</p> + +<p>Ahem! Dry work this speechifying, especially to all unpracticed orators. +I never conceived, till now, what toil the temperance lecturers undergo +for my sake. Do, some kind Christian, pump a stroke or two, just to wet +my whistle. Thank you, sir. But to proceed.</p> + +<p>The Town Pump and the Cow! Such is the glorious partnership that shall +finally monopolize the whole business of quenching thirst. Blessed +consummation! Then Poverty shall pass away from the land, finding no +hovel so wretched where her squalid form may shelter itself. Then +Disease, for lack of other victims, shall gnaw his own heart and die. +Then Sin, if she do not die, shall lose half her strength.</p> + +<p>Then there will be no war of households. The husband and the wife, +drinking deep of peaceful joy, a calm bliss of temperate affections, +shall pass hand in hand through life, and lie down, not reluctantly, at +its protracted close. To them the past will be no turmoil of mad dreams, +nor the future an eternity of such moments as follow the delirium of a +drunkard. Their dead faces shall express what their spirits were, and +are to be, by a lingering smile of memory and hope.</p> + +<p>Drink, then, and be refreshed! The water is as pure and cold as when it +slaked the thirst of the red hunter, and flowed beneath the aged bough, +though now this gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hot +stones, where no shadow falls but from the brick buildings. But still is +this fountain the source of health, peace, and happiness, and I behold, +with certainty and joy, the approach of the period when the virtues of +cold water, too little valued since our father's days, will be fully +appreciated and recognized by all.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> By Nathaniel Hawthorne, an American writer of romances and +short stories (1804-1864).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read this selection again and again until you +understand it clearly and appreciate its rare charm. Study each +paragraph separately, observing how the topic of each is developed. +Select the expressions which are the most pleasing to you. Tell why +each pleases.</p> + +<p>Did you ever see a town pump? In the cities and larger towns, what +has taken its place? Can we imagine a hydrant or a water faucet +talking as this town pump did? If Hawthorne were writing to-day, +would he represent the town pump as the "chief person of the +municipality"? Discuss this question fully.</p> + +<p>Talk with your teacher about the life and works of the author of +this selection. If you have access to any of his books, bring them +to the class and read selections from them. Compare the style of +this story with that of the selection from Dickens, page <a href="#MY_LAST_DAY_AT_SALEM_HOUSE2">22</a>; or +from Thackeray, page <a href="#THE_DEPARTURE_FROM_MISS_PINKERTONS3">27</a>; or from Goldsmith, page <a href="#FIRST_DAYS_AT_WAKEFIELD">94</a>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Word Study</span>: Refer to the dictionary for the pronunciation and +meaning of: <i>perpetuity</i>, <i>constable</i>, <i>municipality</i>, <i>cognac</i>, +<i>quaff</i>, <i>rubicund</i>, <i>Tophet</i>, <i>decanter</i>, <i>titillation</i>, +<i>capacious</i>.</p></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>COME UP FROM THE FIELDS, FATHER<a name="COME_UP_FROM_THE_FIELDS_FATHER" id="COME_UP_FROM_THE_FIELDS_FATHER"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come up from the fields, father; here's a letter from our Pete,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And come to the front door, mother; here's a letter from thy dear son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, 'tis autumn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, where the fields, deeper green, yellower and redder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cool and sweeten Ohio's villages, with leaves fluttering in the moderate wind;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where apples ripe in the orchards hang, and grapes on the trellised vines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Smell you the smell of the grapes on the vines?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smell you the buckwheat, where the bees were lately buzzing?)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above all, lo! the sky so calm, so transparent after the rain, and with wondrous clouds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Below, too, all calm, all vital and beautiful,—and the farm prospers well.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down in the fields all prospers well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now from the fields come, father,—come at the daughter's call;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And come to the entry, mother,—to the front door come, right away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fast as she can she hurries,—something ominous,—her steps trembling;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She does not tarry to smooth her white hair, nor adjust her cap.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Open the envelope quickly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, this is not our son's writing, yet his name is signed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, a strange hand writes for our dear son—O stricken mother's soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All swims before her eyes,—flashes with black,—she catches the main words only;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sentences broken,—<i>gunshot wound in the breast</i>—<i>cavalry skirmish, taken to hospital,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>At present low, but will soon be better.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! now the single figure to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio, with all its cities and farms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sickly white in the face and dull in the head, very faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the jamb of a door leans.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Grieve not so, dear mother</i> (the just grown daughter speaks through her sobs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The little sisters huddle around, speechless and dismayed).<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>See, dearest mother, the letter says Pete will soon be better.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas, poor boy! he will never be better (nor, maybe, needs to be better, that brave and simple soul).<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While they stand at home at the door he is dead already,<br /><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a></span></span> +<span class="i0">The only son is dead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;"> +<img src="images/i136.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt=""Come up from the fields, father."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"Come up from the fields, father."</span> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the mother needs to be better;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, with thin form, presently dressed in black;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By day her meals untouched,—then at night fitfully sleeping, often waking,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the midnight waking, weeping, longing with one deep longing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, that she might withdraw unnoticed, silent from life, escape and withdraw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow, to seek, to be with her dear dead son!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> By Walt Whitman, an American poet (1819-1892).</p></div><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: This poem is descriptive of an incident which occurred +during the Civil War. There were many such incidents, both in the +North and in the South. Read the selection silently to understand +its full meaning. Who are the persons pictured to your imagination +after reading it? Describe the place and the time.</p> + +<p>Now read the poem aloud, giving full expression to its pathetic +meaning. Select the most striking descriptive passage and read it. +Select the stanza which seems to you the most touching, and read +it.</p> + +<p>Study now the peculiarities of the poem. Do the lines rime? Are +they of similar length? What can you say about the meter?</p> + +<p>Compare this poem with the two gems from Browning, pages <a href="#INCIDENT_OF_THE_FRENCH_CAMP">38</a> and <a href="#DOG_TRAY">41</a>. +Compare it with the selection from Longfellow, page <a href="#THE_SERMON_OF_ST._FRANCIS">54</a>; with that +from Lanier, page <a href="#SONG_OF_THE_CHATTAHOOCHEE">66</a>. How does it differ from any or all of these? +What is poetry? Name three great American poets; three great +English poets.</p> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE ADDRESS AT GETTYSBURG<a name="THE_ADDRESS_AT_GETTYSBURG" id="THE_ADDRESS_AT_GETTYSBURG"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></h2> + +<p>Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this +continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the +proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a +great civil war, testing whether that nation—or any nation so conceived +and so dedicated—can long endure.</p> + +<p>We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate +a portion of that field as the final resting place for those who here +gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting +and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot +dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave +men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above +our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long +remember what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here.</p> + +<p>It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished +work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is +rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before +us;—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that +cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion;—that we +here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that +this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that +government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not +perish from the earth.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> By Abraham Lincoln, at the dedication of the National +Cemetery, 1863.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ODE TO THE CONFEDERATE DEAD<a name="ODE_TO_THE_CONFEDERATE_DEAD" id="ODE_TO_THE_CONFEDERATE_DEAD"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_32_32" id="FNanchor_32_32"></a> +<a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though yet no marble column craves<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The pilgrim here to pause.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In seeds of laurel in the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The blossom of your fame is blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And somewhere, waiting for its birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The shaft is in the stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Which keep in trust your storied tombs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold! Your sisters bring their tears<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And these memorial blooms.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Small tribute! but your shades will smile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">More proudly on these wreathes to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than when some cannon-molded pile<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall overlook this bay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is no holier spot of ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than where defeated valor lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">By mourning beauty crowned.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32_32" id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> By Henry Timrod, an American poet (1829-1867).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE CHARIOT RACE<a name="THE_CHARIOT_RACE" id="THE_CHARIOT_RACE"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_33_33" id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a></h2> + + +<p>Orestes? He is dead. I will tell all as it happen</p> + +<p>He journeyed forth to attend the great games which Hellas counts her +pride, to join the Delphic contests. There he heard the herald's voice, +with loud and clear command, proclaim, as coming first, the chariot +race, and so he entered, radiant, every eye admiring as he passed. And +in the race he equaled all the promise of his form in those his rounds, +and so with noblest prize of conquest left the ground.</p> + +<p>Summing up in fewest words what many scarce could tell, I know of none +in strength and act like him. And having won the prize in all the +fivefold forms of race which the umpires had proclaimed, he then was +hailed, proclaimed an Argive, and his name Orestes, the son of mighty +Agamemnon, who once led Hellas's glorious host.</p> + +<p>So far, well. But when a god will injure, none can escape, strong though +he be. For lo! another day, when, as the sun was rising, came the race +swift-footed of the chariot and the horse, he entered the contest with +many charioteers. One was an Achæan, one was from Sparta, two were from +Libya with four-horsed chariots, and Orestes with swift Thessalian mares +came as the fifth. A sixth, with bright bay colts, came from Ætolia; the +seventh was born in far Magnesia; the eighth was an Ænian with white +horses; the ninth was from Athens, the city built by the gods; the tenth +and last was a Bœotian.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i141.jpg" width="600" height="351" alt="The Chariot Race." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Chariot Race.</span> +</div> + +<p>And so they stood, their cars in order as the umpires had decided by +lot. Then, with sound of brazen trumpet, they started.</p> + +<p>All cheering their steeds at the same moment, they shook the reins, and +at once the course was filled with the clash and din of rattling +chariots, and the dust rose high. All were now commingled, each striving +to pass the hubs of his neighbors' wheels. Hard and hot were the horses' +breathings, and their backs and the chariot wheels were white with foam.</p> + +<p>Each charioteer, when he came to the place where the last stone marks +the course's goal, turned the corner sharply, letting go the right-hand +trace horse and pulling the nearer in. And so, at first, the chariots +kept their course; but, at length, the Ænian's unbroken colts, just as +they finished their sixth or seventh round, turned headlong back and +dashed at full speed against the chariot wheels of those who were +following. Then with tremendous uproar, each crashed on the other, they +fell overturned, and Crissa's broad plain was filled with wreck of +chariots.</p> + +<p>The man from Athens, skilled and wise as a charioteer, saw the mischief +in time, turned his steeds aside, and escaped the whirling, raging surge +of man and horse. Last of all, Orestes came, holding his horses in +check, and waiting for the end. But when he saw the Athenian, his only +rival left, he urged his colts forward, shaking the reins and speeding +onward. And now the twain continued the race, their steeds sometimes +head to head, sometimes one gaining ground, sometimes the other; and so +all the other rounds were passed in safety.</p> + +<p>Upright in his chariot still stood the ill-starred hero. Then, just as +his team was turning, he let loose the left rein unawares, and struck +the farthest pillar, breaking the spokes right at his axles' center. +Slipping out of his chariot, he was dragged along, with reins +dissevered. His frightened colts tore headlong through the midst of the +field; and the people, seeing him in his desperate plight, bewailed him +greatly—so young, so noble, so unfortunate, now hurled upon the ground, +helpless, lifeless.</p> + +<p>The charioteers, scarcely able to restrain the rushing steeds, freed the +poor broken body—so mangled that not one of all his friends would have +known whose it was. They built a pyre and burned it; and now they bear +hither, in a poor urn of bronze, the sad ashes of that mighty form—that +so Orestes may have his tomb in his fatherland.</p> + +<p>Such is my tale, full sad to hear; but to me who saw this accident, +nothing can ever be more sorrowful.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 450px;"> +<img src="images/i144.jpg" width="450" height="343" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p><br /></p> +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33_33" id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> Translated from the "Electra" of Sophocles, written about +450 years before Christ. The narrative is supposed to have been related +by the friend and attendant of the hero, Orestes.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE COLISEUM AT MIDNIGHT<a name="THE_COLISEUM_AT_MIDNIGHT" id="THE_COLISEUM_AT_MIDNIGHT"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_34_34" id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></h2> + + +<p>I crossed the Forum to the foot of the Palatine, and, ascending the Via +Sacra, passed beneath the Arch of Titus. From this point I saw below me +the gigantic outline of the Coliseum, like a cloud resting upon the +earth.</p> + +<p>As I descended the hillside, it grew more broad and high,—more definite +in its form, and yet more grand in its dimensions,—till, from the vale +in which it stands encompassed by three of the Seven Hills of Rome, the +majestic ruin in all its solitary grandeur "swelled vast to heaven."</p> + +<p>A single sentinel was pacing to and fro beneath the arched gateway which +leads to the interior, and his measured footsteps were the only sound +that broke the breathless silence of night.</p> + +<p>What a contrast with the scene which that same midnight hour presented, +when in Domitian's time the eager populace began to gather at the gates, +impatient for the morning sports! Nor was the contrast within less +striking. Silence, and the quiet moonbeams, and the broad, deep shadow +of the ruined wall!</p> + +<p>Where now were the senators of Rome, her matrons, and her virgins? Where +was the ferocious populace that rent the air with shouts, when, in the +hundred holidays that marked the dedication of this imperial slaughter +house, five thousand wild beasts from the Libyan deserts and the forests +of Anatolia made the arena sick with blood?</p> + +<p>Where were the Christian martyrs that died with prayers upon their lips, +amid the jeers and imprecations of their fellow men? Where were the +barbarian gladiators, brought forth to the festival of blood, and +"butchered to make a Roman holiday"?</p> + +<p>The awful silence answered, "They are mine!" The dust beneath me +answered, "They are mine!"</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34_34" id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> From "Outre Mer," by Henry W. Longfellow.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Learn all you can about the Coliseum. When was it +built? by whom? For what was it used?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Word Study</span>: <i>Forum</i>, <i>Palatine</i>, <i>Via Sacra</i>, <i>Titus</i>, <i>Domitian</i>, +<i>Libyan</i>, <i>Anatolia</i>.</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i146.jpg" width="600" height="294" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE<a name="THE_DEACONS_MASTERPIECE" id="THE_DEACONS_MASTERPIECE"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_35_35" id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was built in such a logical way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It ran a hundred years to a day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, of a sudden, it—ah, but stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll tell you what happened, without delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scaring the parson into fits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frightening people out of their wits,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you ever heard of that, I say?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Georgius Secundus</i> was then alive,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Snuffy old drone from the German hive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was the year when Lisbon town<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw the earth open and gulp her down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Braddock's army was done so brown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Left without a scalp to its crown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was on the terrible Earthquake day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now in building of chaises, I tell you what,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is always <i>somewhere</i> a weakest spot,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,—lurking still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Find it somewhere, you must and will,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above or below, or within or without,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chaise <i>breaks down</i>, but doesn't <i>wear out</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell <i>yeou</i>,")<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would build one shay to beat the taown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It should be so built that it <i>couldn'</i> break daown:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,<br /></span> +<span class="i7">Is only jest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;"> +<img src="images/i148.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="The Deacon's Masterpiece." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Deacon's Masterpiece.</span> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So the Deacon inquired of the village folk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he could find the strongest oak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was for spokes and floor and sills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sent for lancewood to make the thills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The panels of white wood, that cuts like cheese,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But lasts like iron for things like these;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last of its timber,—they couldn't sell 'em,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never an ax had seen their chips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wedges flew from between their lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steel of the finest, bright and blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoroughbrace bison skin, thick and wide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found in the pit when the tanner died.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was the way he "put her through."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do! I tell you, I rather guess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She was a wonder, and nothing less!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deacon and deaconess dropped away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Children and grandchildren—where were they?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake day!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Eighteen hundred</span>,—it came and found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eighteen hundred increased by ten,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eighteen hundred and twenty came,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Running as usual; much the same.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thirty and forty at last arrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then come fifty and <span class="smcap">FIFTY-FIVE</span>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little of all we value here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without both feeling and looking queer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far as I know, but a tree and truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(This is a moral that runs at large;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take it,—You're welcome.—No extra charge.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">First of November</span>,—the Earthquake day.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A general flavor of mild decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nothing local, as one may say.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There couldn't be,—for the Deacon's art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had made it so like in every part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That there wasn't a chance for one to start,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the floor was just as strong as the sills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the panels just as strong as the floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the whippletree neither less nor more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spring and axle and hub <i>encore</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, as a <i>whole</i>, it is past a doubt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In another hour it will be <i>worn out</i>!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/i151.jpg" width="600" height="277" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">First of November, Fifty-five!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This morning the parson takes a drive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, small boys, get out of the way!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Huddup!" said the parson.—Off went they.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parson was working his Sunday's text,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had got to <i>fifthly</i>, and stopped perplexed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At what the—Moses—was coming next.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All at once the horse stood still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close by the meet'n'house on the hill.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—First a shiver, and then a thrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then something decidedly like a spill,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the parson was sitting upon a rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At half-past nine by the meet'n'house clock,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just the hour of the earthquake shock!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—What do you think the parson found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he got up and stared around?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor old chaise in a heap or mound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if it had been to the mill and ground.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How it went to pieces all at once,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All at once, and nothing first,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just as bubbles do when they burst.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Logic is logic. That's all I say.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35_35" id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> From "The Autocrat or the Breakfast Table," by Oliver +Wendell Holmes, a noted American author and physician (1809—1894).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read the selection silently to appreciate its humor. +Now read it aloud with careful attention to naturalness of +expression. Study the historical allusions—"Georgius Secundus," +"Lisbon town," "Braddock's army," "the Earthquake day," etc.</p> + +<p>Read again the passages in which dialect expressions occur. Try to +speak these passages as the author intended them to be spoken.</p> + +<p>Select the passages which appeal most strongly to your sense of +humor. Read them in such manner as to make their humorous quality +thoroughly appreciable to those who listen to you.</p> + +<p>Now study the selection as a poem, comparing it with several +typical poems which you have already studied. Remembering your +definition of poetry (page <a href="#Page_138">138</a>), what is the real poetical value of +this delightful composition? Is it a true poem? Find some other +poems written by Dr. Holmes. Bring them to the class and read them +aloud.</p> + +<p>Talk with your teacher about the life of Dr. Holmes and about his +prose and poetical works. As a poet, how does he compare with +Longfellow? with Whittier? with Walt Whitman? with Browning?</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>DOGS AND CATS<a name="DOGS_AND_CATS" id="DOGS_AND_CATS"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_36_36" id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a></h2> + + +<p>Most people agree that the dog has intelligence, a heart, and possibly a +soul; on the other hand, they declare that the cat is a traitor, a +deceiver, an ingrate, a thief. How many persons have I heard say: "Oh, I +can't bear a cat! The cat has no love for its master; it cares only for +the house. I had one once, for I was living in the country, where there +were mice. One day the cook left on the kitchen table a chicken she had +just prepared for cooking; in came the cat, and carried it off, and we +never saw a morsel of it. Oh, I hate cats; I will never have one."</p> + +<p>True, the cat is unpopular. Her reputation is bad, and she makes no +effort to improve the general opinion which people have of her. She +cares as little about your opinion as does the Sultan of Turkey. +And—must I confess—this is the very reason I love her.</p> + +<p>In this world, no one can long be indifferent to things, whether trivial +or serious—if, indeed, anything is serious. Hence, every person must, +sooner or later, declare himself on the subjects of dogs and cats.</p> + +<p>Well, then! I love cats.</p> + +<p>Ah, how many times people have said to me, "What! do you love cats?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you love dogs better?"</p> + +<p>"No, I prefer cats every time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's very queer!"</p> + +<p>The truth is, I would rather have neither cat nor dog. But when I am +obliged to live with one of these beings, I always choose the cat. I +will tell you why.</p> + +<p>The cat seems to me to have the manners most necessary to good society. +In her early youth she has all the graces, all the gentleness, all the +unexpectedness that the most artistic imagination could desire. She is +smart; she never loses herself. She is prudent, going everywhere, +looking into everything, breaking nothing.</p> + +<p>The cat steals fresh mutton just as the dog steals it, but, unlike the +dog, she takes no delight in carrion. She is fastidiously clean—and in +this respect, she might well be imitated by many of her detractors. She +washes her face, and in so doing foretells the weather into the bargain. +You may please yourself by putting a ribbon around her neck, but never a +collar; she cannot be enslaved.</p> + +<p>In short, the cat is a dignified, proud, disdainful animal. She defies +advances and tolerates no insults. She abandons the house in which she +is not treated according to her merits. She is, in both origin and +character, a true aristocrat, while the dog is and always will be, a +mere vulgar parvenu.</p> + +<p>The only serious argument that can be urged against the cat is that she +destroys the birds, not caring whether they are sparrows or +nightingales. If the dog does less, it is because of his stupidity and +clumsiness, not because he is above such business. He also runs after +the birds; but his foolish barking warns them of his coming, and as they +fly away he can only watch them with open mouth and drooping tail.</p> + +<p>The dog submits himself to the slavery of the collar in order to be +taught the art of circumventing rabbits and pigeons—and this not for +his own profit, but for the pleasure of his master, the hunter. Foolish, +foolish fellow! An animal himself, he delights in persecuting other +animals at the command of the man who beats him.</p> + +<p>But the cat, when she catches a bird, has a good excuse for her +cruelty—she catches it only to eat it herself. Shall she be slandered +for such an act? Before condemning her, men may well think of their own +shortcomings. They will find among themselves, as well as in the race of +cats, many individuals who have claws and often use them for the +destruction of those who are gifted with wings.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36_36" id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> Translated from Alexandre Dumas, a noted French novelist +(1802-1870).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: In what does the humor of this selection consist? Read +aloud and with expression the passages which appeal to you as the +most enjoyable. Do you agree with all the statements made by the +author? Read these with which you disagree, and then give reasons +for your disagreement.</p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE OWL CRITIC<a name="THE_OWL_CRITIC" id="THE_OWL_CRITIC"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_37_37" id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>Daily</i>, the <i>Herald</i>, the <i>Post</i>, little heeding<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The young man who blurted out such a blunt question;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion;<br /></span> +<span class="i9">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Don't you see, Mister Brown,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cried the youth, with a frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"How wrong the whole thing is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How preposterous each wing is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I make no apology;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've learned owl-eology,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cannot be blinded to any deflections<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arising from unskillful fingers that fail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mister Brown! Mister Brown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do take that bird down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or you'll soon be the laughingstock all over town!"<br /></span> +<span class="i9">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 403px;"> +<img src="images/i157.jpg" width="403" height="600" alt="The Owl Critic." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Owl Critic.</span> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I've <i>studied</i> owls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And other night fowls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I tell you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I know to be true:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl cannot roost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his limbs so unloosed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No owl in this world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his claws curled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his legs slanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his bill canted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever had his neck screwed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into that attitude.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can't <i>do</i> it, because<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis against all bird laws.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Anatomy teaches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ornithology preaches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl has a toe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That <i>can't</i> turn out so!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've made the white owl my study for years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to see such a job almost moves me to tears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mister Brown, I'm amazed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You should be so gone crazed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to put up a bird<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that posture absurd!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To <i>look</i> at that owl really brings on a dizziness;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man who stuffed <i>him</i> don't half know his business!"<br /></span> +<span class="i9">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Examine those eyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm filled with surprise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taxidermists should pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Off on you such poor glass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So unnatural they seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They'd make Audubon scream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And John Burroughs laugh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To encounter such chaff.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do take that bird down:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have him stuffed again, Brown!"<br /></span> +<span class="i9">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With some sawdust and bark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could stuff in the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An owl better than that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could make an old hat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look more like an owl than that horrid fowl<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fact, about <i>him</i> there's not one natural feather."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then fairly hooted, as if he should say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Your learning's at fault <i>this</i> time, anyway;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!"<br /></span> +<span class="i9">And the barber kept on shaving.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37_37" id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> By James T. Fields, an American publisher and author +(1817-1881).</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MRS. CAUDLE'S UMBRELLA LECTURE<a name="MRS_CAUDLES_UMBRELLA_LECTURE" id="MRS_CAUDLES_UMBRELLA_LECTURE"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_38_38" id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a></h2> + + +<p>Bah! That's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. What were you to +do? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there +was nothing about him that could spoil. Take cold? Indeed! He doesn't +look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd better have taken +cold than taken our umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, +<span class="smcap">DO YOU HEAR THE RAIN</span>?</p> + +<p>Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle. Don't insult me. He return the +umbrella? Anybody would think you were born yesterday. As if anybody +ever did return an umbrella!</p> + +<p>I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. +They shan't go through such weather, I'm determined. No! they shall stay +at home and never learn anything—the blessed creatures—sooner than go +and get wet. And when they grow up, I wonder whom they'll have to thank +for knowing nothing—who, indeed, but their father?</p> + +<p>But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh, yes! I know very well. I was +going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow—you knew that—and you did +it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate to have me to go there, and take +every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle. +No, sir; if it comes down in bucketfuls I'll go all the more.</p> + +<p>No! and I won't have a cab! Where do you think the money's to come from? +You've got nice, high notions at that club of yours. A cab, indeed! Cost +me sixteen pence at least—sixteen pence?—two-and-eight-pence, for +there's back again! Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who is to pay +for them! I can't pay for them, and I'm sure you can't if you go on as +you do; throwing away your property and beggaring your children, buying +umbrellas.</p> + +<p>Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, <span class="smcap">DO YOU HEAR IT</span>? But I don't +care—I'll go to mother's to-morrow, I will; and what's more, I'll walk +every step of the way; and you know that will give me my death. Don't +call me a foolish woman; it's you that's the foolish man. You know I +can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a +cold—it always does. But what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I +may be laid up for what you care, as I dare say I shall—and a pretty +doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will! It will teach you to lend +your umbrella again. I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death; and that's +what you lent your umbrella for. Of course!</p> + +<p>Nice clothes I shall get, too, traipsing through weather like this. My +gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. Needn't I wear them, then? +Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear them. No, sir; I'm not going out a +dowdy to please you or anybody else. Gracious knows, it isn't often I +step over the threshold; indeed, I might as well be a slave at +once—better, I should say. But when I go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to +go as a lady.</p> + +<p>Ugh! I look forward with dread for to-morrow. How I'm to go to mother's +I'm sure I can't tell. But, if I die, I'll go. No, sir; I won't <i>borrow</i> +an umbrella.</p> + +<p>No; and you shan't <i>buy</i> one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another +umbrella, I'll throw it into the street. Ha! it was only last week I had +a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd known as much as I do +now, it might have gone without one, for all of me.</p> + +<p>The children, too, dear things, they'll be sopping wet; for they shan't +stay at home; they shan't lose their learning; it's all their father +will leave them, I'm sure. But they shall go to school. Don't tell me I +said they shouldn't; you are so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the +temper of an angel; they shall go to school; mark that! And if they get +their deaths of cold, it's not my fault. I didn't lend the umbrella.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38_38" id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> By Douglas William Jerrold, an English humorous writer +(1803-1857).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p><span class="smcap">Note</span>: Which of the various specimens of humor here presented do you +enjoy most? Give reasons.</p> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE DARK DAY IN CONNECTICUT<a name="THE_DARK_DAY_IN_CONNECTICUT" id="THE_DARK_DAY_IN_CONNECTICUT"></a> +<a name="FNanchor_39_39" id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a Mayday of the far old year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the bloom and sweet life of the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A horror of great darkness, like the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In day of which the Norland sagas tell,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Twilight of the Gods....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birds ceased to sing, and all the barnyard fowls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roosted; the cattle at the pasture bars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lowed, and looked homeward; bats on leathern wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flitted abroad; the sounds of labor died;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the doom blast of the trumpet shatter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A loving guest at Bethany, but stern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Justice and inexorable Law.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Meanwhile in the old statehouse, dim as ghosts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat the lawgivers of Connecticut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trembling beneath their legislative robes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It is the Lord's Great Day! Let us adjourn,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some said; and then as if with one accord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 388px;"> +<img src="images/i164.jpg" width="388" height="600" alt="The Dark Day In Connecticut." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Dark Day In Connecticut.</span> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The intolerable hush. "This well may be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Day of Judgment which the world awaits;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But be it so or not, I only know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My present duty, and my Lord's command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To occupy till he come. So at the post<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where he hath set me in his providence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I choose, for one, to meet him face to face,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No faithless servant frightened from my task,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore, with all reverence, I would say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let God do his work, we will see to ours.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring in the candles!" And they brought them in.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Then, by the flaring lights the Speaker read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Albeit with husky voice and shaking hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An act to amend an act to regulate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shad and alewive fisheries. Whereupon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wisely and well spake Abraham Davenport,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Straight to the question, with no figures of speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save the ten Arab signs, yet not without<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shrewd, dry humor natural to the man—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His awestruck colleagues listening all the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the pauses of his argument,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the thunder of the wrath of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break from the hollow trumpet of the cloud.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And there he stands in memory to this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the background of unnatural dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A witness to the ages as they pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That simple duty hath no place for fear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39_39" id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> From "Abraham Davenport," by John Greenleaf Whittier.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>TWO INTERESTING LETTERS<a name="TWO_INTERESTING_LETTERS" id="TWO_INTERESTING_LETTERS"></a></h2> + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">Columbus to the Lord Treasurer of Spain<a name="COLUMBUS_TO_THE_LORD_TREASURER_OF_SPAIN" id="COLUMBUS_TO_THE_LORD_TREASURER_OF_SPAIN"></a></span></h3> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Barcelona, 1493.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcap">To Lord Raphael Sanchez</span>:—</p> + +<p>Knowing that it will afford you pleasure to learn that I have brought my +undertaking to a successful termination, I have decided upon writing you +this letter to acquaint you with all the events which have occurred in +my voyage, and the discoveries which have resulted from it.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 189px;"> +<img src="images/i166.jpg" width="189" height="250" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Thirty-three days after my departure from Cadiz I reached the Indian +sea, where I discovered many islands, thickly peopled, of which I took +possession without resistance in the name of our most illustrious +monarchs, by public proclamation and with unfurled banners. To the first +of these islands, which is called by the Indians Guanahani, I gave the +name of the blessed Saviour, relying upon whose protection I had reached +this as well as the other islands.</p> + +<p>As soon as we arrived at that, which as I have said was named Juana, I +proceeded along its coast a short distance westward, and found it to be +so large and apparently without termination, that I could not suppose it +to be an island, but the continental province of Cathay.</p> + +<p>In the meantime I had learned from some Indians whom I had seized, that +the country was certainly an island; and therefore I sailed toward the +east, coasting to the distance of three hundred and twenty-two miles, +which brought us to the extremity of it; from this point I saw lying +eastwards another island, fifty-four miles distant from Juana, to which +I gave the name Española.</p> + +<p>All these islands are very beautiful, and distinguished by a diversity +of scenery; they are filled with a great variety of trees of immense +height, and which I believe to retain their foliage in all seasons; for +when I saw them they were as verdant and luxurious as they usually are +in Spain in the month of May,—some of them were blossoming, some +bearing fruit, and all flourishing in the greatest perfection, according +to their respective stages of growth, and the nature and quality of +each; yet the islands are not so thickly wooded as to be impassable. The +nightingale and various birds were singing in countless numbers, and +that in November, the month in which I arrived there.</p> + +<p>The inhabitants are very simple and honest, and exceedingly liberal with +all they have; none of them refusing anything he may possess when he is +asked for it, but on the contrary inviting us to ask them. They exhibit +great love toward all others in preference to themselves: they also give +objects of great value for trifles, and content themselves with very +little or nothing in return.</p> + +<p>I, however, forbade that these trifles and articles of no value (such as +pieces of dishes, plates, and glass, keys, and leather straps) should be +given to them, although, if they could obtain them, they imagined +themselves to be possessed of the most beautiful trinkets in the world.</p> + +<p>It even happened that a sailor received for a leather strap as much gold +as was worth three golden nobles, and for things of more trifling value +offered by our men, the Indian would give whatever the seller required.</p> + +<p>On my arrival I had taken some Indians by force from the first island +that I came to, in order that they might learn our language. These men +are still traveling with me, and although they have been with us now a +long time, they continue to entertain the idea that I have descended +from heaven; and on our arrival at any new place they published this, +crying out immediately with a loud voice to the other Indians, "Come, +come and look upon beings of a celestial race": upon which both men and +women, children and adults, young men and old, when they got rid of the +fear they at first entertained, would come out in throngs, crowding the +roads to see us, some bringing food, others drink, with astonishing +affection and kindness.</p> + +<p>Although all I have related may appear to be wonderful and unheard of, +yet the results of my voyage would have been more astonishing if I had +had at my disposal such ships as I required. But these great and +marvelous results are not to be attributed to any merit of mine, but to +the holy Christian faith, and to the piety and religion of our +Sovereigns; for that which the unaided intellect of man could not +compass, the spirit of God has granted to human exertions, for God is +wont to hear the prayers of his servants who love his precepts even to +the performance of apparent impossibilities.</p> + +<p>Thus it has happened to me in the present instance, who have +accomplished a task to which the powers of mortal men had never hitherto +attained; for if there have been those who have anywhere written or +spoken of these islands, they have done so with doubts and conjectures, +and no one has ever asserted that he has seen them, on which account +their writings have been looked upon as little else than fables.</p> + +<p>Therefore let the king and queen, our princes and their most happy +kingdoms, and all the other provinces of Christendom, render thanks to +our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who has granted us so great a victory +and such prosperity.</p> + +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Christopher Columbus.</span> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: In connection with this letter, read again the story of +the discovery as narrated by Washington Irving, page <a href="#THE_DISCOVERY_OF_AMERICA6">43</a>. In what +respect do the two accounts differ?</p></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Governor Winslow to a Friend in England<a name="GOVERNOR_WINSLOW_TO_A_FRIEND_IN_ENGLAND" id="GOVERNOR_WINSLOW_TO_A_FRIEND_IN_ENGLAND"></a></span></h3> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>,—</p> + +<p>Although I received no letter from you by this ship, yet forasmuch as I +know you expect the performance of my promise, which was to write to you +truly and faithfully of all things, I have therefore, at this time, sent +unto you accordingly, referring you for further satisfaction to our more +large relations.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 151px;"> +<img src="images/i170.jpg" width="151" height="200" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>You shall understand that in this little time that a few of us have been +here, we have built seven dwelling houses and four for the use of the +plantation, and have made preparation for divers others.</p> + +<p>We set the last spring some twenty acres of Indian corn, and sowed some +six acres of barley and pease; and according to the manner of the +Indians, we manured our ground with herrings, or rather shads, which we +have in great abundance, and take with great ease at our doors.</p> + +<p>Our corn did prove well; and God be praised, we had a good increase of +Indian corn, and our barley indifferent good, but our pease not worth +the gathering, for we feared they were too late sown. They came up very +well, and blossomed; but the sun parched them in the blossom.</p> + +<p>Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that +so we might, after a special manner, rejoice together after we had +gathered the fruit of our labors. They four, in one day, killed as much +fowl as with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At +which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of +the Indians coming among us, and among the rest their greatest king, +Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and +feasted; and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to +the plantation, and bestowed upon our governor, and upon the captain and +others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this +time with us, yet by the goodness of God we are so far from want, that +we often wish you partakers of our plenty....</p> + +<p>We have often found the Indians very faithful in their covenant of peace +with us, very loving, and ready to pleasure us. We often go to them, and +they come to us.... Yea, it hath pleased God so to possess the Indians +with a fear of us and love to us, that not only the greatest king +amongst them, called Massasoit, but also all the princes and peoples +round about us, have either made suit to us, or been glad of any +occasion to make peace with us; so that seven of them at once have sent +their messengers to us to that end.... They are a people without any +religion or knowledge of any God, yet very trusty, quick of +apprehension, ripe-witted, just....</p> + +<p>Now, because I expect you coming unto us, with other of our friends, I +thought good to advertise you of a few things needful. Be careful to +have a very good bread room to put your biscuits in. Let not your meat +be dry-salted; none can better do it than the sailors. Let your meal be +so hard trod in your cask that you shall need an adz or hatchet to work +it out with. Trust not too much on us for corn at this time, for we +shall have little enough till harvest.</p> + +<p>Build your cabins as open as you can, and bring good store of clothes +and bedding with you. Bring every man a musket or fowling piece. Let +your piece be long in the barrel, and fear not the weight of it, for +most of our shooting is from stands.</p> + +<p>I forbear further to write for the present, hoping to see you by the +next return. So I take my leave, commending you to the Lord for a safe +conduct unto us, resting in him,</p> + +<p class="author">Your loving friend,</p> +<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Edward Winslow</span>.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><i>Plymouth in New England,</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;"><i>this 11th of December, 1621.</i></span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="POEMS_OF_HOME_AND_COUNTRY" id="POEMS_OF_HOME_AND_COUNTRY"></a>POEMS OF HOME AND COUNTRY</h2> + + +<h3>I. "<span class="smcap">This is My Own, My Native Land<a name="THIS_IS_MY_OWN_MY_NATIVE_LAND" id="THIS_IS_MY_OWN_MY_NATIVE_LAND"></a></span>"<a name="FNanchor_40_40" id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Breathes there the man with soul so dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who never to himself hath said,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">This is my own, my native land!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As home his footsteps he hath turned,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">From wandering on a foreign strand?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If such there breathe, go, mark him well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For him no minstrel raptures swell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High though his titles, proud his name,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Despite those titles, power, and pelf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wretch concentered all in self,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Living, shall forfeit fair renown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, doubly dying, shall go down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Caledonia! stern and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet nurse for a poetic child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land of the mountain and the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Land of my sires! what mortal hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can e'er untie the filial band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That knits me to thy rugged strand?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">The Green Little Shamrock of Ireland<a name="THE_GREEN_LITTLE_SHAMROCK_OF_IRELAND" id="THE_GREEN_LITTLE_SHAMROCK_OF_IRELAND"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_41_41" id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that set it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And with dew from his eye often wet it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It thrives through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its name is the dear little shamrock of Ireland—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This dear little plant still grows in our land,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose smiles can bewitch, whose eyes can command,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In what climate they chance to appear in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they shine through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just like their own dear little shamrock of Ireland—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This dear little plant that springs from our soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When its three little leaves are extended,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Betokens that each for the other should toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And ourselves by ourselves be befriended,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From one root should branch like the shamrock of Ireland—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>III. <span class="smcap">My Heart's in the Highlands<a name="MY_HEARTS_IN_THE_HIGHLANDS" id="MY_HEARTS_IN_THE_HIGHLANDS"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_42_42" id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing the wild deer and following the roe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birthplace of valor, the country of worth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills of the Highlands forever I love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing the wild deer and following the roe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>IV. <span class="smcap">The Fatherland<a name="THE_FATHERLAND" id="THE_FATHERLAND"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_43_43" id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where is the true man's fatherland?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is it where he by chance is born?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doth not the yearning spirit scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In such scant borders to be spanned?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh, yes! his fatherland must be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the blue heaven wide and free!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it alone where freedom is,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where God is God, and man is man?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Doth he not claim a broader span<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the soul's love of home than this?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh, yes! his fatherland must be<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As the blue heaven wide and free!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er a human heart doth wear<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Joy's myrtle wreath or sorrow's gyves,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where'er a human spirit strives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After a life more true and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is the true man's birthplace grand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His is a world-wide fatherland!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er a single slave doth pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where'er one man may help another,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Thank God for such a birthright, brother,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That spot of earth is thine and mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There is the true man's birthplace grand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His is a world-wide fatherland!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>V. <span class="smcap">Home<a name="HOME" id="HOME"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_44_44" id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But where to find that happiest spot below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who can direct when all pretend to know?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Extols the treasures of his stormy seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his long nights of revelry and ease;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The naked negro, panting at the line,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thanks his gods for all the good they gave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His first, best country, ever is at home.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And estimate the blessings which they share,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An equal portion dealt to all mankind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As different good, by art or nature given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To different nations makes their blessing even.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40_40" id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> From the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," by Sir Walter Scott.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41_41" id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> By Andrew Cherry, an Irish poet (1762-1812).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42_42" id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> By Robert Burns, a famous Scottish poet (1759-1796).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43_43" id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> By James Russell Lowell.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44_44" id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> By Oliver Goldsmith.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read all of these poems silently with a view towards +sympathizing with the feelings which they express. Now read each +one separately, and compare them, one with another. What is the +leading sentiment inculcated by each? Which poem appeals the most +strongly to your own emotions?</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Word Study</span>: <i>Caledonia</i>, <i>shamrock</i>, <i>brake</i>, <i>Erin</i>, <i>gyves</i>, +<i>yearning</i>, <i>frigid</i>, <i>tepid</i>, <i>patriot</i>.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_AGE_OF_COAL45" id="THE_AGE_OF_COAL45"></a>THE AGE OF COAL<a name="FNanchor_45_45" id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a></h2> + + +<p>Come with me, in fancy, back to those early ages of the world, +thousands, yes millions, of years ago. Stand with me on some low ancient +hill, which overlooks the flat and swampy lands that are to become the +American continent.</p> + +<p>Few heights are yet in sight. The future Rocky Mountains lie still +beneath the surface of the sea. The Alleghanies are not yet heaved up +above the level surface of the ground, for over them are spread the +boggy lands and thick forests of future coal fields. The Mississippi +River is not yet in existence, or if in existence, is but an unimportant +little stream.</p> + +<p>Below us, as we stand, we can see a broad and sluggish body of water, in +places widening into shallow lakes. On either side of this stream, vast +forests extend in every direction as far as the horizon, bounded on one +side by the distant ocean, clothing each hilly rise, and sending islets +of matted trees and shrubs floating down the waters.</p> + +<p>Strange forests these are to us. No oaks, no elms, no beeches, no +birches, no palms, nor many colored wild flowers are there. The +deciduous plants so common in our modern forests are nowhere found; but +enormous club mosses are seen, as well as splendid pines and an +abundance of ancient trees with waving, frondlike leaves. Here also are +graceful tree ferns and countless ferns of lower growth filling up all +gaps.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;"> +<img src="images/i179.jpg" width="400" height="358" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>No wild quadrupeds are yet in existence, and the silent forests are +enlivened only by the stirring of the breeze among the trees or the +occasional hum of monstrous insects. But upon the margin of yonder +stream a huge four-footed creature creeps slowly along. He looks much +like a gigantic salamander, and his broad, soft feet make deep +impressions in the yielding mud.</p> + +<p>No sunshine but only a gleam of light can creep through the misty +atmosphere. The earth seems clothed in a garment of clouds, and the air +is positively reeking with damp warmth, like the air of a hothouse. This +explains the luxuriant growth of foliage.</p> + +<p>Could we thus stand upon the hilltops and keep watch through the long +coal building ages, we should see generation after generation of forest +trees and underwoods living, withering, dying, falling to earth. Slowly +a layer of dead and decaying vegetation thus collects, over which the +forest flourishes still—tree for tree, and shrub for shrub, springing +up in the place of each one that dies.</p> + +<p>Then, after a very long time, through the working of mighty underground +forces, the broad lands sink a little way—perhaps only a few feet—and +the ocean tide rushes in, overwhelming the forests, trees and plants and +living creatures, in one dire desolation.—No, not dire, for the ruin is +not objectless or needless. It is all a part of the wonderful +preparation for the life of man on earth.</p> + +<p>Under the waves lie the overwhelmed forests—prostrate trunks and broken +stumps in countless numbers overspreading the gathered vegetable remains +of centuries before. Upon these the sea builds a protective covering of +sand or mud, more or less thick. Here sea creatures come to live, fishes +swim hungrily to and fro, and shellfishes die in the mud which, by and +by, is to become firm rock with stony animal remains embedded in it.</p> + +<p>After a while the land rises again to its former position. There are +bare, sandy flats as before, but they do not remain bare. Lichens and +hardier plants find a home. The light spores of the ancient forest trees +take root and grow, and luxuriant forests, like those of old, spring +again into being. Upon river and lake bottoms, and over the low damp +lands, rich layers of decaying vegetation again collect. Then once more +the land sinks and the ocean tide pours in; and another sandy or muddy +stratum is built up on the overflowed lands. Thus the second layer of +forest growth is buried like the first, and both lie quietly through the +long ages following, hidden from sight, slowly changing in their +substance from wood to shining coal.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Thus time after time, the land rose and sank, rose and sank, again and +again. Not the whole continent is believed to have risen or sunk at the +same time; but here at one period, there at another period, the +movements probably went on.</p> + +<p>The greater part of the vegetable mass decayed slowly; but when the +final ruin of the forest came, whole trunks were snapped off close to +the roots and flung down. These are now found in numbers on the tops of +the coal layers, the barks being flattened and changed to shining black +coal.</p> + +<p>How wonderful the tale of those ancient days told to us by these buried +forests!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45_45" id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> By Agnes Giberne, an English writer on scientific +subjects.</p></div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SOMETHING_ABOUT_THE_MOON46" id="SOMETHING_ABOUT_THE_MOON46"></a>SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON<a name="FNanchor_46_46" id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a></h2> + + +<p>I am going to say a few words about the moon; but there are many matters +relating to her of great interest which I must leave untouched, for the +simple reason that there is not room to speak of them in a single paper.</p> + +<p>Thus the moon's changes of shape from the horned moon to the half, and +thence to the full moon, with the following changes from full to half, +and so to the horned form again, are well worth studying; but I should +want all the space I am going to occupy, merely to explain properly +those changes alone.</p> + +<p>So a study of the way in which the moon rules the tides would, I am +sure, interest every thoughtful reader; but there is not room for it +here.</p> + +<p>Let us now turn to consider the moon; not as the light which makes our +nights beautiful, nor as the body which governs the mighty ocean in its +tidal sway, but as another world,—the companion planet of the earth.</p> + +<p>It has always been a matter not only of the deepest curiosity, but of +the greatest scientific import, whether other planets, and particularly +our own satellite, are inhabited or exhibit any traces whatever of +animal or vegetable life.</p> + +<p>One or two astronomers have claimed the discovery of vegetation on the +moon's surface by reason of the periodic appearance of a greenish tint; +but as the power of the telescope can bring the moon to within only +about a hundred and twenty miles of us, these alleged appearances cannot +be satisfactorily verified.</p> + +<p>The moon is a globe, two thousand one hundred and sixty-five miles in +diameter; very much less, therefore, than our earth, which has a +diameter of about seven thousand nine hundred and twenty miles.</p> + +<p>Thus the moon's surface is less than one thirteenth of the earth's. +Instead of two hundred millions of square miles as the earth has, the +moon has only about fourteen millions of square miles, or about the same +surface as North and South America together, without the great American +Islands of the Arctic regions.</p> + +<p>The volume of the earth exceeds that of the moon more than forty-nine +times. But the moon's substance is somewhat lighter. Thus the mass, or +quantity of matter in the moon, instead of being a forty-ninth part of +the earth's, is about an eighty-first part.</p> + +<p>This small companion world travels like our own earth around the sun, at +a distance of ninety-three millions of miles. The path of the moon +around the sun is, in fact, so nearly the same as that of the earth that +it would be almost impossible to distinguish one from the other, if they +were both drawn on a sheet of paper a foot or so in diameter.</p> + +<p>You may perhaps be surprised to find me thus saying that the moon +travels round the sun, when you have been accustomed to hear that the +moon travels round the earth. In reality, however, it is round the sun +the moon travels, though certainly the moon and the earth circle around +each other.</p> + +<p>The distance of the moon from the earth is not always the same; but the +average, or mean distance, amounts to about two hundred and thirty-eight +thousand eight hundred and twenty-eight miles. This is the distance +between the centers of the two globes. With this distance separating +them, the companion worlds—the earth and the moon—circle round each +other, as they both travel round the central sun.</p> + +<p>But now you will be curious to learn whether our companion planet, the +moon, really presents the appearance of a world, when studied with a +powerful telescope.</p> + +<p>If we judged the moon in this way, we should say that she is not only +not inhabited by living creatures, but that she could not possibly be +inhabited. What is it that makes our earth a fit abode for us who live +upon it? Her surface is divided into land and water. We live on the +land; but without the water we should perish.</p> + +<p>Were there no water, there would be no clouds, no rain, no snow, no +rivers, brooks, or other streams. Without these, there could be no +vegetable life; and without vegetable life, there could be no animal +life, even if animals themselves could live without water.</p> + +<p>Yet again, the earth's globe is enwrapped in an atmosphere,—the air we +breathe. Without this air, neither animals nor vegetables could live. I +might go further and show other features of the earth, which we are at +present justified in regarding as essential to the mere existence, and +still more to the comfort, of creatures living upon the earth.</p> + +<p>Now, before the telescope was invented, many astronomers believed that +there was water on the moon, and probably air also. But as soon as +Galileo examined the moon with his largest telescope (and a very weak +telescope it was), he found that whatever the dark parts of the moon may +be, they certainly are not seas.</p> + +<p>More and more powerful telescopes have since been turned on the moon. It +has been shown that there are not only no seas, but no rivers, pools, +lakes, or other water surfaces. No clouds are ever seen to gather over +any part of the moon's surface. In fact, nothing has ever yet been seen +on the moon which suggests in the slightest degree the existence of +water on her surface, or even that water could at present possibly +exist; and, of course, without water it is safe to infer there could be +neither vegetable nor animal existence.</p> + +<p>It would seem, then, that apart from the absence of air on the moon, +there is such an entire absence of water that no creatures now living on +the earth could possibly exist upon the moon. Certainly man could not +exist there, nor could animals belonging to any except the lowest orders +of animal life.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46_46" id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> By Richard A. Proctor, a noted English astronomer +(1837-1888).</p></div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_COMING_OF_THE_BIRDS47" id="THE_COMING_OF_THE_BIRDS47"></a>THE COMING OF THE BIRDS<a name="FNanchor_47_47" id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know the trusty almanac<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the punctual coming-back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On their due days, of the birds.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I marked them yestermorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flock of finches darting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the crystal arch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Piping, as they flew, a march,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Belike the one they used in parting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Last year from yon oak or larch;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dusky sparrows in a crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Diving, darting northward free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suddenly betook them all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every one to his hole in the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to his niche in the apple tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I greet with joy the choral trains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best gems of Nature's cabinet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dews of tropic morning wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved of children, bards and Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O birds, your perfect virtues bring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your manners for the heart's delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here weave your chamber weather-proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgive our harms, and condescend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To man, as to a lubber friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, generous, teach his awkward race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Courage and probity and grace!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47_47" id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> By Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American poet and philosopher +(1803-1882).</p></div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_RETURN_OF_THE_BIRDS48" id="THE_RETURN_OF_THE_BIRDS48"></a>THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS<a name="FNanchor_48_48" id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a></h2> + + +<p>The coming and going of the birds is more or less a mystery and a +surprise. We go out in the morning, and no thrush or finch is to be +heard; we go out again, and every tree and grove is musical; yet again, +and all is silent. Who saw them come? Who saw them depart?</p> + +<p>This pert little winter wren, for instance, darting in and out the +fence, diving under the rubbish here and coming up yards away,—how does +he manage with those little circular wings to compass degrees and zones, +and arrive always in the nick of time? Last August I saw him in the +remotest wilds of the Adirondacks, impatient and inquisitive as usual; a +few weeks later, on the Potomac, I was greeted by the same hardy little +busybody. Does he travel by easy stages from bush to bush and from wood +to wood? or has that compact little body force and courage to brave the +night and the upper air, and so achieve leagues at one pull?</p> + +<p>And yonder bluebird, with the earth tinge on his breast and the sky +tinge on his back,—did he come down out of heaven on that bright March +morning when he told us so softly and plaintively that spring had come? +Indeed, there is nothing in the return of the birds more curious and +suggestive than in the first appearance, or rumors of the appearance, of +this little bluecoat.</p> + +<p>The bird at first seems a mere wandering voice in the air; one hears its +call or carol on some bright March morning, but is uncertain of its +source or direction; it falls like a drop of rain when no cloud is +visible; one looks and listens, but to no purpose. The weather changes, +perhaps a cold snap with snow comes on, and it may be a week before I +hear the note again, and this time or the next perchance see the bird +sitting on a stake in the fence, lifting his wing as he calls cheerily +to his mate. Its notes now become daily more frequent; the birds +multiply, and, flitting from point to point, call and warble more +confidently and gleefully.</p> + +<p>Not long after the bluebird comes the robin, sometimes in March, but in +most of the Northern states April is the month of the robin. In large +numbers they scour the field and groves. You hear their piping in the +meadow, in the pasture, on the hillside. Walk in the woods, and the dry +leaves rustle with the whir of their wings, the air is vocal with their +cheery call. In excess of joy and vivacity, they run, leap, scream, +chase each other through the air, diving and sweeping among the trees +with perilous rapidity.</p> + +<p>In that free, fascinating, half work and half play pursuit,—sugar +making,—a pursuit which still lingers in many parts of New York, as in +New England, the robin is one's constant companion. When the day is +sunny and the ground bare, you meet him at all points and hear him at +all hours. At sunset, on the tops of the tall maples, with look +heavenward, and in a spirit of utter abandonment, he carols his simple +strain. And sitting thus amid the stark, silent trees, above the wet, +cold earth, with the chill of winter in the air, there is no fitter or +sweeter songster in the whole round year. It is in keeping with the +scene and the occasion. How round and genuine the notes are, and how +eagerly our ears drink them in! The first utterance, and the spell of +winter is thoroughly broken, and the remembrance of it afar off.</p> + +<p>Another April bird, which makes her appearance sometimes earlier and +sometimes later than Robin, and whose memory I fondly cherish, is the +Phœbe bird, the pioneer of the fly catchers. In the inland fanning +districts, I used to notice her, on some bright morning about Easter +Day, proclaiming her arrival with much variety of motion and attitude, +from the peak of the barn or hay shed. As yet, you may have heard only +the plaintive, homesick note of the bluebird, or the faint trill of the +song sparrow; and Phœbe's clear, vivacious assurance of her veritable +bodily presence among us again is welcomed by all ears. At agreeable +intervals in her lay she describes a circle, or an ellipse in the air, +ostensibly prospecting for insects, but really, I suspect, as an +artistic flourish, thrown in to make up in some way for the deficiency +of her musical performance.</p> + +<p>Another April comer, who arrives shortly after robin redbreast, with +whom he associates both at this season and in the autumn, is the +golden-winged woodpecker, <i>alias</i> "high-hole," <i>alias</i> "flicker," +<i>alias</i> "yarup." He is an old favorite of my boyhood, and his note to me +means very much. He announces his arrival by a long, loud call, repeated +from the dry branch of some tree, or a stake in the fence,—a thoroughly +melodious April sound. I think how Solomon finished that beautiful +climax on spring, "And the voice of the turtle is heard in the land," +and see that a description of spring in this farming country, to be +equally characteristic, should culminate in like manner, "And the call +of the high-hole comes up from the wood."</p> + +<p>The song sparrow, that universal favorite and firstling of the spring, +comes before April, and its simple strain gladdens all hearts.</p> + +<p>May is the month of the swallows and the orioles. There are many other +distinguished arrivals, indeed, nine tenths of the birds are here by the +last week in May, yet the swallows and orioles are the most conspicuous. +The bright plumage of the latter seems really like an arrival from the +tropics. I see them flash through the blossoming trees, and all the +forenoon hear their incessant warbling and wooing. The swallows dive and +chatter about the barn, or squeak and build beneath the eaves; the +partridge drums in the fresh sprouting woods; the long, tender note of +the meadow lark comes up from the meadow; and at sunset, from every +marsh and pond come the ten thousand voices of the hylas. May is the +transition month, and exists to connect April and June, the root with +the flower.</p> + +<p>With June the cup is full, our hearts are satisfied, there is no more to +be desired. The perfection of the season, among other things, has +brought the perfection of the song and plumage of the birds. The master +artists are all here, and the expectations excited by the robin and the +song sparrow are fully justified. The thrushes have all come; and I sit +down upon the first rock, with hands full of the pink azalea, to listen. +In the meadows the bobolink is in all his glory; in the high pastures +the field sparrow sings his breezy vesper hymn; and the woods are +unfolding to the music of the thrushes.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48_48" id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> By John Burroughs.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width:45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read again the four descriptive selections beginning on +page <a href="#THE_AGE_OF_COAL45">179</a>. Observe the wide difference in style of composition. Of +the three prose extracts, which is the most interesting to you? +Give reasons why this is so. Which passages require the most +animation in reading? Read these passages so that those who are +listening to you may fully appreciate their meaning.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_POET_AND_THE_BIRD" id="THE_POET_AND_THE_BIRD"></a>THE POET AND THE BIRD</h2> + + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">The Song of the Lark<a name="THE_SONG_OF_THE_LARK" id="THE_SONG_OF_THE_LARK"></a></span></h3> + +<p>On a pleasant evening in late summer the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley and +his wife, Mary Shelley, were walking near the city of Leghorn in Italy. +The sky was cloudless, the air was soft and balmy, and the earth seemed +hushed into a restful stillness. The green lane along which they were +walking was bordered by myrtle hedges, where crickets were softly +chirping and fireflies were already beginning to light their lamps. From +the fields beyond the hedges the grateful smell of new-mown hay was +wafted, while in the hazy distance the church towers of the city glowed +yellow in the last rays of the sun, and the gray-green sea rippled +softly in the fading light of day.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, from somewhere above them, a burst of music fell upon their +ears. It receded upward, but swelled into an ecstatic harmony, with +fluttering intervals and melodious swervings such as no musician's art +can imitate.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" asked the poet, as the song seemed to die away in the +blue vault of heaven.</p> + +<p>"It is a skylark," answered his wife.</p> + +<p>"Nay," said the poet, his face all aglow with the joy of the moment; "no +mere bird ever poured forth such strains of music as that. I think, +rather, that it is some blithe spirit embodied as a bird."</p> + +<p>"Let us imagine that it is so," said Mary. "But, hearken. It is singing +again, and soaring as it sings."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and I can see it, too, like a flake of gold against the pale +purple of the sky. It is so high that it soars in the bright rays of the +sun, while we below are in the twilight shade. And now it is descending +again, and the air is filled with its song. Hark to the rain of melody +which it showers down upon us."</p> + +<p>They listened enraptured, while the bird poured forth its flood of song. +When at length it ceased, and the two walked home in the deepening +twilight, the poet said:—</p> + +<p>"We shall never know just what it was that sang so gloriously. But, +Mary, what do you think is most like it?"</p> + +<p>"A poet," she answered. "There is nothing so like it as a poet wrapt in +his own sweet thoughts and singing till the world is made to sing with +him for very joy."</p> + +<p>"And I," said he, "would compare it to a beautiful maiden singing for +love in some high palace tower, while all who hear her are bewitched by +the enchanting melody."</p> + +<p>"And I," said she, "would compare it to a red, red rose sitting among +its green leaves and giving its sweet perfumes to the summer breezes."</p> + +<p>"You speak well, Mary," said he; "but let me make one other comparison. +Is it not like a glowworm lying unseen amid the grass and flowers, and +all through the night casting a mellow radiance over them and filling +them with divine beauty?"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 391px;"> +<img src="images/i194.jpg" width="391" height="600" alt="The Song of the Lark." title="" /> +<span class="caption">The Song of the Lark.</span> +</div> + +<p>"I do not like the comparison so well," was the answer. "Yet, after all, +there is nothing so like it as a poet—as yourself, for instance."</p> + +<p>"No poet ever had its skill, because no poet was ever so free from +care," said Shelley, sadly. "It is like an unbodied joy floating +unrestrained whithersoever it will. Ah, Mary, if I had but half the +gladness that this bird or spirit must know, I would write such poetry +as would bewitch the world, and all men would listen, entranced, to my +song."</p> + +<p>That night the poet could not sleep for thinking of the skylark's song. +The next day he sat alone in his study, putting into harmonious words +the thoughts that filled his mind. In the evening he read to Mary a new +poem, entitled "To a Skylark." It was full of the melody inspired by the +song of the bird. Its very meter suggested the joyous flight, the +fluttering pauses, the melodious swervings, the heavenward ascent of the +bird. No poem has ever been written that is fuller of beautiful images +and sweet and joyous harmonies.</p> + +<p>Have you ever listened to the song of a bird and tried to attune your +own thoughts to its unrestrained and untaught melodies? There are no +true skylarks in America, and therefore you may never be able to repeat +the experience of the poet or fully to appreciate the "harmonious +madness" of his matchless poem; for no other bird is so literally the +embodiment of song as the European skylark.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>But now let us read Shelley's inimitable poem.</p> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">To a Skylark<a name="TO_A_SKYLARK" id="TO_A_SKYLARK"></a></span></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Hail to thee, blithe spirit!<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Bird thou never wert,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">That from heaven, or near it,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Pourest thy full heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Higher still and higher<br /></span> +<span class="i5">From the earth thou springest<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Like a cloud of fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The blue deep thou wingest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">In the golden lightning<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Of the sunken sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">O'er which clouds are bright'ning,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thou dost float and run,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">The pale purple even<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Melts around thy flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Like a star of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In the broad daylight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Keen as are the arrows<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Of that silver sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Whose intense lamp narrows<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In the white dawn clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">All the earth and air<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With thy voice is loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">As, when night is bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">From one lonely cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">What thou art we know not;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">What is most like thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">From rainbow clouds there flow not<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Drops so bright to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Like a poet hidden<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In the light of thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Singing hymns unbidden,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Till the world is wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Like a highborn maiden<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In a palace tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Soothing her love-laden<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Soul in secret hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Like a glowworm golden<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In a dell of dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Scattering unbeholden<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Its aërial hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Like a rose embowered<br /></span> +<span class="i5">In its own green leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">By warm winds deflowered,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Till the scent it gives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingèd thieves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Sound of vernal showers<br /></span> +<span class="i5">On the twinkling grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Rain-awakened flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">All that ever was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Teach us, sprite or bird,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">What sweet thoughts are thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I have never heard<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Praise of love or wine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Chorus Hymeneal,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Or triumphal chaunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Matched with thine would be all<br /></span> +<span class="i5">But an empty vaunt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">What objects are the fountains<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Of thy happy strain?<br /></span> +<span class="i3">What fields, or waves, or mountains?<br /></span> +<span class="i5">What shapes of sky or plain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">With thy clear keen joyance<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Languor cannot be:<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shadow of annoyance<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Never came near thee:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Waking or asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Thou of death must deem<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Things more true and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Than we mortals dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">We look before and after,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And pine for what is not;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Our sincerest laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i5">With some pain is fraught:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Yet if we could scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Hate, and pride, and fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">If we were things born<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Not to shed a tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Better than all measures<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Of delightful sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Better than all treasures<br /></span> +<span class="i5">That in books are found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">Teach me half the gladness<br /></span> +<span class="i5">That thy brain must know,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Such harmonious madness<br /></span> +<span class="i5">From thy lips would flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world should listen then, as I am listening now.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HARK_HARK_THE_LARK49" id="HARK_HARK_THE_LARK49"></a>HARK, HARK! THE LARK<a name="FNanchor_49_49" id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark, hark! The lark at Heaven's gate sings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And Phœbus 'gins arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His steeds to water at those springs<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On chaliced flowers that lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winking Mary-buds begin<br /></span> +<span class="i1">To ope their golden eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With everything that pretty is,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">My lady sweet, arise;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Arise, arise!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49_49" id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> From "Cymbeline," by William Shakespeare.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read Shelley's poem with care, trying to understand and +interpret the poet's enthusiasm as he watched the flight of the +lark. Point out the five passages in the poem which seem the most +striking or the most beautiful. Memorize Shakespeare's song and +repeat it in a pleasing manner. Point out any peculiarities you may +notice.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ECHOES_OF_THE_AMERICAN_REVOLUTION" id="ECHOES_OF_THE_AMERICAN_REVOLUTION"></a>ECHOES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION</h2> + + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">Patrick Henry's Famous Speech<a name="PATRICK_HENRYS_FAMOUS_SPEECH" id="PATRICK_HENRYS_FAMOUS_SPEECH"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_50_50" id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a></h3> + +<p>Mr. President, it is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of +hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to +the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the +part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? +Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, +and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their +temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, +I am willing to know the whole truth, to know the worst, and to provide +for it.</p> + +<p>I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that lamp is the +lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the +past. And, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in +the conduct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, to justify +those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves +and the house?</p> + +<p>Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately +received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer +not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this +gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike +preparations which cover our waters, and darken our land.</p> + +<p>Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? +Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be +called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These +are the implements of war and subjugation,—the last arguments to which +kings resort.</p> + +<p>I ask, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to +force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive +for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to +call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has +none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are +sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British +ministry have been so long forging.</p> + +<p>And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have +been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer +upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of +which it is capable, but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to +entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find, which have +not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive +ourselves longer.</p> + +<p>Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which +is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have +supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have +implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the +ministry and Parliament.</p> + +<p>Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have produced +additional violence and insult, our supplications have been disregarded, +and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In +vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and +reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope.</p> + +<p>If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate these +inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we +mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so +long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until +the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained,—we must fight. I +repeat it, sir, we must fight. An appeal to arms, and to the God of +hosts, is all that is left us.</p> + +<p>They tell us, sir, that we are weak,—unable to cope with so formidable +an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, +or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a +British guard shall be stationed in every house?</p> + +<p>Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire +the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and +hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound +us hand and foot?</p> + +<p>Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the +God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed +in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we +possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against +us.</p> + +<p>Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God +who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up +friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the +strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, +sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now +too late to retire from the contest.</p> + +<p>There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. Our chains are +forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is +inevitable; and let it come!—I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is vain, +sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace! but there +is no peace. The war is actually begun.</p> + +<p>The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the +clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why +stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they +have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the +price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what +course others may take; but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me +death!</p> + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Marion's Men<a name="MARIONS_MEN" id="MARIONS_MEN"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_51_51" id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We follow where the Swamp Fox guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">His friends and merry men are we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the troop of Tarleton rides,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We burrow in the cypress tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The turfy hummock is our bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Our home is in the red deer's den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our roof, the treetop overhead,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">For we are wild and hunted men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We fly by day and shun its light,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">But, prompt to strike the sudden blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We mount and start with early night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And through the forest track our foe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And soon he hears our chargers leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The flashing saber blinds his eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, ere he drives away his sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And rushes from his camp, he dies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Free bridle bit, good gallant steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That will not ask a kind caress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To swim the Santee at our need,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">When on his heels the foemen press,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The true heart and the ready hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The spirit stubborn to be free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trusted bore, the smiting brand,—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And we are Marion's men, you see.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 412px;"> +<img src="images/i206.jpg" width="412" height="600" alt="Marion's Men." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Marion's Men.</span> +</div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now light the fire and cook the meal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The last perhaps that we shall taste;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And that's a sign we move in haste.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He whistles to the scouts, and hark!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">You hear his order calm and low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, wave your torch across the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And let us see the boys that go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now pile the brush and roll the log—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Hard pillow, but a soldier's head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That's half the time in brake and bog<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Must never think of softer bed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The owl is hooting to the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The cooter crawling o'er the bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in that pond the flashing light<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tells where the alligator sank.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What! 'tis the signal! start so soon?<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And through the Santee swamps so deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without the aid of friendly moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And we, Heaven help us! half asleep?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But courage, comrades! Marion leads,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Swamp Fox takes us out to-night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So clear your swords and spur your steeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">There's goodly chance, I think, of fight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We follow where the Swamp Fox guides,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">We leave the swamp and cypress tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our spurs are in our coursers' sides,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And ready for the strife are we.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Tory's camp is now in sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And there he cowers within his den;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hears our shouts, he dreads the fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">He fears, and flies from Marion's men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>III. <span class="smcap">In Memory of George Washington<a name="IN_MEMORY_OF_GEORGE_WASHINGTON" id="IN_MEMORY_OF_GEORGE_WASHINGTON"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_52_52" id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a></h3> + +<p>How, my fellow-citizens, shall I single to your grateful hearts his +preëminent worth? Where shall I begin in opening to your view a +character throughout sublime? Shall I speak of his warlike achievements, +all springing from obedience to his country's will—all directed to his +country's good?</p> + +<p>Will you go with me to the banks of the Monongahela, to see our youthful +Washington supporting, in the dismal hour of Indian victory, the +ill-fated Braddock and saving, by his judgment and his valor, the +remains of a defeated army, pressed by the conquering savage foe? Or +when, oppressed America nobly resolving to risk her all in defense of +her violated right, he was elevated by the unanimous vote of Congress to +the command of her armies?</p> + +<p>Will you follow him to the high grounds of Boston, where to an +undisciplined, courageous, and virtuous yeomanry his presence gave the +stability of system and infused the invincibility of love of country? Or +shall I carry you to the painful scenes of Long Island, York Island, and +New Jersey, when, combating superior and gallant armies, aided by +powerful fleets and led by chiefs high in the roll of fame, he stood the +bulwark of our safety, undismayed by disasters, unchanged by change of +fortune?</p> + +<p>Or will you view him in the precarious fields of Trenton, where deep +gloom, unnerving every arm, reigned triumphant through our thinned, +worn-down, unaided ranks, to himself unknown? Dreadful was the night. It +was about this time of winter; the storm raged; the Delaware, rolling +furiously with floating ice, forbade the approach of man.</p> + +<p>Washington, self-collected, viewed the tremendous scene. His country +called; unappalled by surrounding dangers, he passed to the hostile +shore; he fought, he conquered. The morning sun cheered the American +world. Our country rose on the event, and her dauntless chief, pursuing +his blow, completed in the lawns of Princeton what his vast soul had +conceived on the shores of the Delaware.</p> + +<p>Thence to the strong grounds of Morristown he led his small but gallant +band; and through an eventful winter, by the high effort of his genius, +whose matchless force was measurable only by the growth of difficulties, +he held in check formidable hostile legions, conducted by a chief +experienced in the arts of war, and famed for his valor on the ever +memorable Heights of Abraham, where fell Wolfe, Montcalm, and since our +much-lamented Montgomery, all covered with glory. In this fortunate +interval, produced by his masterly conduct, our fathers, ourselves, +animated by his resistless example, rallied around our country's +standard, and continued to follow her beloved chief through the various +and trying scenes to which the destinies of our union led.</p> + +<p>Who is there that has forgotten the vales of Brandywine, the fields of +Germantown, or the plains of Monmouth? Everywhere present, wants of +every kind obstructing, numerous and valiant armies encountering, +himself a host, he assuaged our sufferings, limited our privations, and +upheld our tottering Republic. Shall I display to you the spread of the +fire of his soul, by rehearsing the praises of the hero of Saratoga and +his much-loved compeer of the Carolinas? No; our Washington wears not +borrowed glory. To Gates, to Greene, he gave without reserve the +applause due to their eminent merit; and long may the chiefs of Saratoga +and of Eutaw receive the grateful respect of a grateful people.</p> + +<p>Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and light to his most distant +satellites; and combining the physical and moral force of all within his +sphere, with irresistible weight, he took his course, commiserating +folly, disdaining vice, dismaying treason, and invigorating despondency; +until the auspicious hour arrived when united with the intrepid forces +of a potent and magnanimous ally, he brought to submission the since +conqueror of India; thus finishing his long career of military glory +with a luster corresponding to his great name, and in this, his last act +of war, affixing the seal of fate to our nation's birth....</p> + +<p>First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, +he was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private +life. Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere, uniform, dignified, +and commanding, his example was edifying to all around him, as were the +effects of that example lasting.</p> + +<p>To his equals he was condescending; to his inferiors, kind; and to the +dear object of his affections, exemplarily tender. Correct throughout, +vice shuddered in his presence, and virtue always felt his fostering +hand; the purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public +virtues. His last scene comported with the whole tenor of his life. +Although in extreme pain, not a sigh, not a groan, escaped him; and with +undisturbed serenity he closed his well-spent life. Such was the man +America has lost! Such was the man for whom our nation mourns!</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50_50" id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> Before the Virginia Convention, March 25, 1775.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51_51" id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> By William Gilmore Simms, an American author (1806-1870).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52_52" id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> By Henry Lee of Virginia. Extract from an oration +delivered in the House of Representatives, 1799.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THREE_GREAT_AMERICAN_POEMS" id="THREE_GREAT_AMERICAN_POEMS"></a>THREE GREAT AMERICAN POEMS</h2> + + +<h3>I<a name="THANATOPSIS" id="THANATOPSIS"></a></h3> + +<p>One day when Dr. Peter Bryant of Cummington, Massachusetts, was looking +through his writing desk, he found a small package of papers on which +some verses were written. He recognized the neat, legible handwriting as +that of his son, and he paused to open the papers and read. Presently, +he called aloud to his wife, "Here, Sallie, just listen to this poem +which Cullen has written!"</p> + +<p>He began to read, and as he read, the proud mother listened with tears +in her eyes. "Isn't that grand?" she cried. "I've always told you that +Cullen would be a poet. And now just think what a pity it is that he +must give up going to Yale College and settle down to the study of law!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, wife," responded Dr. Bryant, "it is to be regretted. But people +with small means cannot always educate their children as they wish. A +lawyer is a better breadwinner than most poets are, and I am satisfied +that our boy will be a successful lawyer."</p> + +<p>"Of course he will," said Mrs. Bryant; "he will succeed at anything he +may undertake. But that poem—why, Wordsworth never wrote anything half +so grand or beautiful. What is the title?"</p> + +<p>"Thanatopsis."</p> + +<p>"Thanatopsis? I wonder what it means."</p> + +<p>"It is from two Greek words, and means 'A View of Death.' I have half a +notion to take the poem to Boston with me next winter. I want to show it +to my friend Mr. Philips."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do; and take some of Cullen's other poems with it. Perhaps he might +think some of them good enough to publish."</p> + +<p>Dr. Peter Bryant was at that time a member of the senate in the +Massachusetts general assembly. When the time came for the meeting of +the assembly he went up to Boston, and he did not forget to take several +of his son's poems with him. The <i>North American Review</i> was a great +magazine in those days, and Dr. Bryant was well acquainted with Mr. +Philips, one of its editors. He called at the office of the <i>Review</i>, +and not finding Mr. Philips, he left the package of manuscript with his +name written upon it.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Philips returned he found the package, and after reading the +poems concluded that Dr. Bryant had written "Thanatopsis," and that the +others were probably by his son Cullen.</p> + +<p>"It is a remarkable poem—a remarkable poem," he said, as he showed it +to his two fellow-editors. "We have never published anything better in +the <i>Review</i>," he said, and he began to read it to them.</p> + +<p>When he had finished, one of them, Richard Henry Dana, who was himself a +poet, said doubtingly:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Philips, you have been imposed upon. There is no person in America +who can write a poem like that."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but I know the man who wrote it," answered Mr. Philips. "He is in +the state senate, and he isn't a man who would impose upon any person."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must have a look at the man who can write such lines as those," +said Mr. Dana.</p> + +<p>He went to the statehouse, and to the senate chamber, and asked to see +Senator Bryant. A tall, gray-bearded man was pointed out to him. Mr. +Dana looked at him for a few minutes and then said to himself, "He has a +fine head; but he is not the man who could write 'Thanatopsis'" So +without speaking to him he returned to his office.</p> + +<p>Mr. Philips, still full of enthusiasm, soon had an interview with Dr. +Bryant, and learned the truth in regard to the authorship of the poem. +It was printed in the next issue of the <i>North American Review</i>. It was +the first great poem ever produced in America; it was the work of a +young man not eighteen years of age, and it is without doubt the +greatest poem ever written by one so young. But let us read it.</p> + + +<p class="fm3"><span class="smcap">Thanatopsis</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">To him who in the love of Nature holds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Communion with her visible forms, she speaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A various language; for his gayer hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She has a voice of gladness, and a smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eloquence of beauty, and she glides<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into his darker musings with a mild<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And healing sympathy, that steals away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the last bitter hour come like a blight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over thy spirit, and sad images<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go forth, under the open sky, and list<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Nature's teachings, while from all around—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth and her waters, and the depths of air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes a still voice:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">Yet a few days, and thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The all-beholding sun shall see no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, lost each human trace, surrendering up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine individual being, shalt thou go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mix forever with the elements,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be a brother to the insensible rock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">Yet not to thine eternal resting place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With patriarchs of the infant world—with kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The powerful of the earth—the wise, the good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun—the vales<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stretching in pensive quietness between—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The venerable woods—rivers that move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In majesty, and the complaining brooks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are but the solemn decorations all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are shining on the sad abodes of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The globe are but a handful to the tribes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or lose thyself in the continuous woods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save his own dashings,—yet the dead are there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And millions in those solitudes, since first<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flight of years began, have laid them down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their last sleep,—the dead reign there alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In silence from the living, and no friend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take note of thy departure? All that breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plod on, and each one as before will chase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their mirth and their employments and shall come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make their bed with thee. As the long train<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of ages glides away, the sons of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth in life's fresh spring, and he who goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the full strength of years, matron and maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall one by one be gathered to thy side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By those who in their turn shall follow them.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i1">So live, that when thy summons comes to join<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The innumerable caravan that moves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His chamber in the silent halls of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Observe that this poem is written in blank verse. In +what respects does it differ from other forms of verse? Read it +with great care, observing the marks of punctuation and giving to +each passage the proper inflections and emphasis. Compare it with +some other poems you have read.</p></div> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<h3>II<a name="THE_BELLS" id="THE_BELLS"></a></h3> + +<p>One Sunday evening, in the summer of 1848, Edgar Allan Poe was visiting +at the house of a friend in New York city. The day was warm, and the +windows of the conservatory where he was sitting were thrown wide open +to admit the breeze. Mr. Poe was very despondent because of many sorrows +and disappointments, and he was plainly annoyed by the sound of some +near-by church bells pealing the hour of worship.</p> + +<p>"I have made an agreement with a publisher to write a poem for him," he +said, "but I have no inspiration for such a task. What shall I do?"</p> + +<p>His friend Mrs. Shew gave him an encouraging reply, and invited him to +drink tea with her. Then she placed paper and ink before him and +suggested that, if he would try to write, the required inspiration would +come.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered; "I so dislike the noise of bells to-night, I cannot +write. I have no subject—I am exhausted."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shew then wrote at the top of the sheet of paper, <i>The Bells, by E. +A. Poe</i>, and added a single line as a beginning:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The bells, the little silver bells."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The poet accepted the suggestion, and after some effort finished the +first stanza. Then Mrs. Shew wrote another line:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The heavy iron bells."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This idea was also elaborated by Mr. Poe, who copied off the two stanzas +and entitled them <i>The Bells, by Mrs. M. L. Shew</i>. He went home, +pondering deeply upon the subject; the required inspiration was not long +lacking; and in a few days the completed poem was ready to be submitted +to the publisher.</p> + + +<p class="fm3"><span class="smcap">The Bells</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hear the sledges with the bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Silver bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a world of merriment their melody foretells!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the icy air of night!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the stars that oversprinkle<br /></span> +<span class="i4">All the heavens seem to twinkle<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With a crystalline delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Keeping time, time, time,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a sort of Runic rime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the tintinnabulation that so musically swells<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the bells, bells, bells, bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bells, bells, bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hear the mellow wedding bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Golden bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through the balmy air of night<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How they ring out their delight!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From the molten-golden notes,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And all in tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What a liquid ditty floats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the turtledove that listens while she gloats<br /></span> +<span class="i8">On the moon!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Oh, from out the sounding cells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">How it swells!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">How it dwells<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the Future! how it tells<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of the rapture that impels<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the swinging and the ringing<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of the bells, bells, bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bells, bells, bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the riming and the chiming of the bells!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hear the loud alarum bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Brazen bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the startled ear of night<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How they scream out their affright!<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Too much horrified to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">They can only shriek, shriek,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Out of tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Leaping higher, higher, higher,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With a desperate desire<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And a resolute endeavor<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Now—now to sit or never,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the side of the pale-faced moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh, the bells, bells, bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">What a tale their terror tells<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of despair!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How they clang and crash and roar!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">What a horror they outpour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the bosom of the palpitating air!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet the ear it fully knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">By the twanging<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the clanging,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How the danger ebbs and flows;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet the ear distinctly tells,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In the jangling<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And the wrangling,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How the danger sinks and swells,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Bells, bells, bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the clamor and the clangor of the bells.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Hear the tolling of the bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Iron bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In the silence of the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">How we shiver with affright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At the melancholy menace of their tone!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For every sound that floats<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From the rust within their throats<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Is a groan.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And the people—ah, the people—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They that dwell up in the steeple,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">All alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In that muffled monotone,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Feel a glory in so rolling<br /></span> +<span class="i6">On the human heart a stone:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They are neither man nor woman;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">They are neither brute nor human;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">They are ghouls:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And their king it is who tolls;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he rolls, rolls, rolls,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Rolls<br /></span> +<span class="i4">A pæan from the bells!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And his merry bosom swells<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With the pæan of the bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And he dances and he yells,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Keeping time, time, time,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a sort of Runic rime,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To the pæan of the bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of the bells:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Keeping time, time, time,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a sort of Runic rime,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To the throbbing of the bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the bells, bells, bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To the sobbing of the bells;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Keeping time, time, time,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">As he knells, knells, knells,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">In a happy Runic rime,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To the rolling of the bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the bells, bells, bells,—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">To the tolling of the bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Bells, bells, bells—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the moaning and the groaning of the bells!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>III<a name="MARCO_BOZZARIS" id="MARCO_BOZZARIS"></a></h3> + +<p>In the early part of the nineteenth century Fitz-Greene Halleck was +regarded as one of the greatest of American poets. He is now, however, +remembered chiefly as the author of a single poem, "Marco Bozzaris," +published in 1827. This poem has been described, perhaps justly, as "the +best martial lyric in the English language."</p> + +<p>It was written at a time when the people of Greece were fighting for +their independence; and it celebrates the heroism of the young Greek +patriot, Marco Bozzaris, who was killed while leading a desperate but +successful night attack upon the Turks, August 20, 1823. As here +presented, it is slightly abridged.</p> + + +<p class="fm3"><span class="smcap">Marco Bozzaris</span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At midnight, in his guarded tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Turk was dreaming of the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Should tremble at his power:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dreams, through camp and court, he bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trophies of a conqueror;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In dreams his song of triumph heard;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then wore his monarch's signet ring:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then pressed that monarch's throne—a king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As Eden's garden bird.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At midnight, in the forest shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True as the steel of their tried blades,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Heroes in heart and hand.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There had the Persian's thousands stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There had the glad earth drunk their blood<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On old Platæa's day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now there breathed that haunted air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sons of sires who conquered there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With arm to strike and soul to dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">As quick, as far as they.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An hour passed on—the Turk awoke;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That bright dream was his last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He woke—to hear his sentries shriek,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He woke—to die midst flame, and smoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shout, and groan, and saber stroke,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And death shots falling thick and fast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lightnings from the mountain cloud;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bozzaris cheer his band:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Strike—till the last armed foe expires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike—for your altars and your fires;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike—for the green graves of your sires;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">God—and your native land!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They fought—like brave men, long and well;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They piled that ground with Moslem slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They conquered—but Bozzaris fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Bleeding at every vein.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His few surviving comrades saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His smile when rang their proud hurrah,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the red field was won;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then saw in death his eyelids close<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calmly, as to a night's repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Like flowers at set of sun.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bozzaris! with the storied brave<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Greece nurtured in her glory's time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rest thee—there is no prouder grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Even in her own proud clime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wore no funeral weeds for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like torn branch from death's leafless tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sorrow's pomp and pageantry,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The heartless luxury of the tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But she remembers thee as one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long-loved and for a season gone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her marble wrought, her music breathed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thee she rings the birthday bells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thee her babes' first lisping tells;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thine her evening prayer is said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At palace couch and cottage-bed....<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And she, the mother of thy boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though in her eye and faded cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is read the grief she will not speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The memory of her buried joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And even she who gave thee birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Talk of thy doom without a sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One of the few, the immortal names,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That were not born to die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Talk with your teacher about these three poems, and the +proper manner of reading each. Learn all that you can about their +authors.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_INDIAN53" id="THE_INDIAN53"></a>THE INDIAN<a name="FNanchor_53_53" id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a></h2> + + +<p>Think of the country for which the Indians fought! Who can blame them? +As Philip looked down from his seat on Mount Hope and beheld the lovely +scene which spread beneath at a summer sunset,—the distant hilltops +blazing with gold, the slanting beams streaming across the waters, the +broad plains, the island groups, the majestic forests,—could he be +blamed, if his heart burned within him, as he beheld it all passing, by +no tardy process, from beneath his control, into the hands of the +stranger?</p> + +<p>As the river chieftains—the lords of the waterfalls and the +mountains—ranged this lovely valley, can it be wondered at, if they +beheld with bitterness the forest disappearing beneath the settler's +ax—the fishing places disturbed by his sawmills?</p> + +<p>Can we not imagine the feelings, with which some strong-minded savage +chief, who should have ascended the summit of the Sugarloaf Mountain, in +company with a friendly settler, contemplating the progress already made +by the white man and marking the gigantic strides with which he was +advancing into the wilderness, should fold his arms, and say:—</p> + +<p>"White man, there is an eternal war between me and thee. I quit not the +land of my fathers, but with my life. In those woods where I bent my +youthful bow, I will still hunt the deer; over yonder waters I will +still glide unrestrained in my bark canoe; by those dashing waterfalls I +will still lay up my winter's store of food; on these fertile meadows I +will still plant my corn.</p> + +<p>"Stranger! the land is mine. I understand not these paper rights. I gave +not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these broad regions were +purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. They could sell what was +theirs; they could sell no more. How could my father sell that which the +Great Spirit sent me into the world to live upon? He knew not what he +did.</p> + +<p>"The stranger came, a timid suppliant; he asked to lie down on the red +man's bearskin, and warm himself at the red man's fire, and have a +little piece of land to raise corn for his women and children. Now he is +become strong and mighty and bold, and spreads out his parchment over +the whole, and says, 'It is mine!'</p> + +<p>"Stranger, there is no room for us both. The Great Spirit has not made +us to live together. There is poison in the white man's cup; the white +man's dog barks at the red man's heels.</p> + +<p>"If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I fly? Shall I +go to the south, and dwell among the graves of the Pequots? Shall I +wander to the west? The fierce Mohawk—the man-eater—is my foe. Shall +I fly to the east? The great water is before me. No, stranger! Here have +I lived, and here will I die; and if here thou abidest, there is eternal +war between me and thee.</p> + +<p>"Thou hast taught me thy arts of destruction; for that alone I thank +thee. And now take heed to thy steps—the red man is thy foe.</p> + +<p>"When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle past thee. When +thou liest down by night, my knife shall be at thy throat. The noonday +sun shall not discover thy enemy; and the darkness of midnight shall not +protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood. +Thou shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will strew it with ashes. Thou +shalt go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after with the +scalping knife. Thou shalt build, and I will burn—till the white man or +the Indian perish from the land."</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53_53" id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> By Edward Everett, an American statesman and orator +(1794-1865).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: This selection and also the selections on pages <a href="#PATRICK_HENRYS_FAMOUS_SPEECH">202</a>, +<a href="#IN_MEMORY_OF_GEORGE_WASHINGTON">209</a>, and <a href="#NATIONAL_RETRIBUTION54">231</a> are fine examples of American oratory, such as was +practiced by the statesmen and public speakers of the earlier years +of our republic. Learn all that you can about Patrick Henry, Daniel +Webster, Edward Everett, Theodore Parker, and other eminent +orators. Before attempting to read this selection aloud, read it +silently and try to understand every statement or allusion +contained in it. Call to mind all that you have learned in your +histories or elsewhere concerning the Indians and their treatment +by the American colonists. Now read with energy and feeling each +paragraph of this extract from Mr. Everett's oration. Try to make +your hearers understand and appreciate the feelings which are +expressed.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="NATIONAL_RETRIBUTION54" id="NATIONAL_RETRIBUTION54"></a>NATIONAL RETRIBUTION<a name="FNanchor_54_54" id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a></h2> + + +<p>Do you know how empires find their end?</p> + +<p>Yes. The great states eat up the little. As with fish, so with nations.</p> + +<p>Come with me! Let us bring up the awful shadows of empires buried long +ago, and learn a lesson from the tomb.</p> + +<p>Come, old Assyria, with the Ninevitish dove upon thy emerald crown! What +laid thee low?</p> + +<p>Assyria answers: "I fell by my own injustice. Thereby Nineveh and +Babylon came with me to the ground."</p> + +<p>O queenly Persia, flame of the nations! Wherefore art thou so fallen? +thou who trod the people under thee, bridged the Hellespont with ships, +and poured thy temple-wasting millions on the western world?</p> + +<p>Persia answers: "Because I trod the people under me, because I bridged +the Hellespont with ships, and poured my temple-wasting millions on the +western world, I fell by my own misdeeds!"</p> + +<p>And thou, muselike Grecian queen, fairest of all thy classic sisterhood +of states, enchanting yet the world with thy sweet witchery, speaking in +art, and most seductive in song, why liest thou there with thy beauteous +yet dishonored brow reposing on thy broken harp?</p> + +<p>Greece answers: "I loved the loveliness of flesh, embalmed in Parian +stone. I loved the loveliness of thought, and treasured that more than +Parian speech. But the beauty of justice, the loveliness of love, I trod +down to earth. Lo! therefore have I become as those barbarian states, +and one of them."</p> + +<p>O manly, majestic Rome, with thy sevenfold mural crown all broken at thy +feet, why art thou here? 'Twas not injustice brought thee low, for thy +great Book of Law is prefaced with these words, "Justice is the +unchanging, everlasting will to give each man his right." It was not the +saint's ideal. It was the hypocrite's pretense.</p> + +<p>And Rome says: "I made iniquity my law! I trod the nations under me! +Their wealth gilded my palaces, where now thou mayst see the fox and +hear the owl. Wicked men were my cabinet counselors. The flatterer +breathed his poison in my ear. Millions of bondmen wet the soil with +tears and blood! Do you not hear it crying yet to God? Lo here have I my +recompense, tormented with such downfalls as you see.</p> + +<p>"Go back and tell the newborn child who sitteth on the Alleghanies, +laying his either hand upon a tributary sea,—tell him there are rights +which States must keep, or they shall suffer punishment. Tell him there +is a God who hurls to earth the loftiest realm that breaks his just, +eternal law. Warn the young empire, that he come not down, dim and +dishonored, to my shameful tomb. Tell him that Justice is the +unchanging, everlasting will, to give each man his right. I knew this +law. I broke it. Bid him keep it, and be forever safe."</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54_54" id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> By Theodore Parker, an eminent American clergyman and +author (1810-1860).</p></div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHO_ARE_BLESSED55" id="WHO_ARE_BLESSED55"></a>WHO ARE BLESSED<a name="FNanchor_55_55" id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a></h2> + + +<p>And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was +set, his disciples came unto him.</p> + +<p>And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying:</p> + +<p>Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.</p> + +<p>Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.</p> + +<p>Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth.</p> + +<p>Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for +they shall be filled.</p> + +<p>Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.</p> + +<p>Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God.</p> + +<p>Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of +God.</p> + +<p>Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for +theirs is the kingdom of heaven.</p> + +<p>Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall +say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake.</p> + +<p>Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for +so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.</p> + +<p>Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savor, +wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to +be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.</p> + +<p>Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be +hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a +candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let +your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and +glorify your Father which is in heaven....</p> + +<p>Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for +a tooth: but I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever +shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if +any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have +thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with +him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow +of thee turn not thou away.</p> + +<p>Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and +hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that +curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which +despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of +your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the +evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55_55" id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> From the Gospel of Matthew.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LITTLE_GEMS_FROM_THE_OLDER_POETS" id="LITTLE_GEMS_FROM_THE_OLDER_POETS"></a>LITTLE GEMS FROM THE OLDER POETS</h2> + + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">The Noble Nature<a name="THE_NOBLE_NATURE" id="THE_NOBLE_NATURE"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_56_56" id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not growing like a tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bulk doth make man better be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">A lily of a day<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Is fairer far in May,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although it fall and die that night,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was the plant and flower of light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In small proportions we just beauties see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in short measures life may perfect be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">A Contented Mind<a name="A_CONTENTED_MIND" id="A_CONTENTED_MIND"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_57_57" id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I weigh not fortune's frown or smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I joy not much in earthly joys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seek not state, I seek not style;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I am not fond of fancy's toys;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rest so pleased with what I have,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I wish no more, no more I crave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I quake not at the thunder's crack;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I tremble not at noise of war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I swound not at the news of wrack;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I shrink not at a blazing star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear not loss, I hope not gain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I envy none, I none disdain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I feign not friendship, where I hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">I fawn not on the great in show;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I prize, I praise a mean estate—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Neither too lofty nor too low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, this is all my choice, my cheer—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mind content, a conscience clear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>III. <span class="smcap">A Happy Life<a name="A_HAPPY_LIFE" id="A_HAPPY_LIFE"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_58_58" id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How happy is he born and taught<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That serveth not another's will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose armor is his honest thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And simple truth his utmost skill;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose passions not his masters are,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Whose soul is still prepared for death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not tied unto the world with care<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of public fame, or private breath;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who envies none that chance doth raise,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor vice; who never understood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How deepest wounds are given by praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Nor rules of state, but rules of good.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This man is freed from servile bands<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Of hope to rise or fear to fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord of himself, though not of lands,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And having nothing, yet hath all.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>IV. <span class="smcap">Solitude<a name="SOLITUDE" id="SOLITUDE"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_59_59" id="FNanchor_59_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy the man, whose wish and care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few paternal acres bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content to breathe his native air<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In his own ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose flocks supply him with attire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose trees in summer yield him shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">In winter, fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blest, who can unconcern'dly find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hours, days, and years slide soft away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In health of body, peace of mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Quiet by day,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sound sleep by night; study and ease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Together mixt, sweet recreation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And innocence, which most does please<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With meditation.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus unlamented let me die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal from the world, and not a stone<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Tell where I lie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>V. <span class="smcap">A Wish<a name="A_WISH" id="A_WISH"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_60_60" id="FNanchor_60_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mine be a cot beside the hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A willowy brook that turns a mill<br /></span> +<span class="i1">With many a fall shall linger near.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And share my meal, a welcome guest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Around my ivied porch shall spring<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In russet gown and apron blue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The village church among the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Where first our marriage vows were given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With merry peals shall swell the breeze<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And point with taper spire to Heaven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56_56" id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> By Ben Jonson (1573-1637).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57_57" id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> By Joshua Sylvester (1563-1618).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58_58" id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> By Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1639).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59_59" id="Footnote_59_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> By Alexander Pope (1688-1744).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60_60" id="Footnote_60_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> By Samuel Rogers (1763-1855).</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Which of these poems do you like best? Give reasons for +your preference. What sentiment is emphasized by all of them? What +other pleasant ideas of life are expressed? What mental pictures +are called up by reading the fourth poem? the fifth? What traits of +character are alluded to in the first poem? the second? Now read +each poem aloud, giving to each line and each stanza the thought +which was in the author's mind when he wrote it.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOW_KING_ARTHUR_GOT_HIS_NAME61" id="HOW_KING_ARTHUR_GOT_HIS_NAME61"></a>HOW KING ARTHUR GOT HIS NAME<a name="FNanchor_61_61" id="FNanchor_61_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a></h2> + + +<p>One day at sunset, Snowbird, the young son of a king, came over the brow +of a hill that stepped forward from a dark company of mountains and +leaned over the shoreless sea which fills the West and drowns the North. +All day he had been wandering alone, his mind heavy with wonder over +many things. He had heard strange tales of late, tales about his heroic +father and the royal clan, and how they were not like other men, but +half divine. He had heard, too, of his own destiny,—that he also was to +be a great king. What was Destiny, he wondered....</p> + +<p>Then, as he wondered, he turned over and over in his mind all the names +he could think of that he might choose for his own; for the time was +come for him to put away the name of his childhood and to take on that +by which he should be known among men.</p> + +<p>He came over the brow of the hill, and out of the way of the mountain +wind, and, being tired, lay down among the heather and stared across the +gray wilderness of the sea. The sun set, and the invisible throwers of +the nets trailed darkness across the waves and up the wild shores and +over the faces of the cliffs. Stars climbed out of shadowy abysses, and +the great chariots of the constellations rode from the West to the East +and from the North to the South.</p> + +<p>His eyes closed, ... but when he opened them again, he saw a great and +kingly figure standing beside him. So great in stature, so splendid in +kingly beauty, was the mysterious one who had so silently joined him, +that he thought this must be one of the gods.</p> + +<p>"Do you know me, my son?" said the kingly stranger.</p> + +<p>The boy looked at him in awe and wonder, but unrecognizingly.</p> + +<p>"Do you not know me, my son?" he heard again ... "for I am your father, +Pendragon. But my home is yonder, and that is why I have come to you as +a vision in a dream ..." and, as he spoke, he pointed to the +constellation of the <i>Arth</i>, or Bear, which nightly prowls through the +vast abysses of the polar sky.</p> + +<p>When the boy turned his gaze from the great constellation which hung in +the dark wilderness overhead, he saw that he was alone again. While he +yet wondered in great awe at what he had seen and heard, he felt himself +float like a mist and become like a cloud, rise beyond the brows of the +hills, and ascend the invisible stairways of the sky....</p> + +<p>It seemed to him thereafter that a swoon came over him, in which he +passed beyond the far-off blazing fires of strange stars. At last, +suddenly, he stood on the verge of <i>Arth</i>, <i>Arth Uthyr</i>, the Great Bear. +There he saw, with the vision of immortal, not of mortal, eyes, a +company of most noble and majestic figures seated at what he thought a +circular abyss, but which had the semblance of a vast table. Each of +these seven great knights or lordly kings had a star upon his forehead, +and these were stars of the mighty constellation of the Bear which the +boy had seen night after night from his home among the mountains by the +sea.</p> + +<p>It was with a burning throb at his heart that he recognized in the King +of all these kings no other than himself.</p> + +<p>While he looked, in amazement so great that he could hear the pulse of +his heart, as in the silence of a wood one hears the tapping of a +woodpecker, he saw this mighty phantom self rise till he stood towering +over all there, and heard a voice as though an ocean rose and fell +through the eternal silences.</p> + +<p>"Comrades in God," it said, "the time is come when that which is great +shall become small."</p> + +<p>And when the voice was ended, the mighty figure faded in the blue +darkness, and only a great star shone where the uplifted dragon helm had +brushed the roof of heaven. One by one the white lords of the sky +followed in his mysterious way, till once more were to be seen only the +stars of the Bear.</p> + +<p>The boy dreamed that he fell as a falling meteor, and that he floated +over land and sea as a cloud, and then that he sank as mist upon the +hills of his own land.</p> + +<p>A noise of wind stirred in his ears. He rose stumblingly, and stood, +staring around him. He glanced upward and saw the stars of the Great +Bear in their slow march round the Pole.... Then he remembered.</p> + +<p>He went slowly down the hill, his mind heavy with thought. When he was +come to his own place, lo! all the fierce chivalry of the land came out +to meet him; for the archdruid had foretold that the great King to be +had received his mystic initiation among the holy silences of the hills.</p> + +<p>"I am no more Snowbird, the child," the boy said, looking at them +fearless and as though already King. "Henceforth I am Arth-Urthyr,<a name="FNanchor_62_62" id="FNanchor_62_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a> +for my place is in the Great Bear which we see yonder in the north."</p> + +<p>So all there acclaimed him as Arthur, the wondrous one of the stars, the +Great Bear.</p> + +<p>"I am old," said his father, "and soon you shall be King, Arthur, my +son. So ask now a great boon of me and it shall be granted to you."</p> + +<p>Then Arthur remembered his dream.</p> + +<p>"Father and King," he said, "when I am King after you, I shall make a +new order of knights, who shall be pure as the Immortal Ones, and be +tender as women, and simple as little children. But first I ask of you +seven flawless knights to be of my chosen company. To-morrow let the +wood wrights make for me a round table, such as that where we eat our +roasted meats, but round and of a size whereat I and my chosen knights +may sit at ease."</p> + +<p>The king listened, and all there.</p> + +<p>"So be it," said the king.</p> + +<p>Then Arthur chose the seven flawless knights, and called them to him. +"Ye are now Children of the Great Bear," he said, "and comrades and +liegemen to me, Arthur, who shall be King of the West.</p> + +<p>"And ye shall be known as the Knights of the Round Table. But no man +shall make a mock of that name and live: and in the end that name shall +be so great in the mouths and minds of men that they shall consider no +glory of the world to be so great as to be the youngest and frailest of +that knighthood."</p> + +<p>And that is how Arthur, who three years later became King of the West, +read the rune of the stars that are called the Great Bear, and took +their name upon him, and from the strongest and purest and noblest of +the land made Knighthood, such as the world had not seen, such as the +world since has not seen.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61_61" id="Footnote_61_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> A Gaelic legend, by Fiona Macleod.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62_62" id="Footnote_62_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> Pronounced <i>Arth-Ur</i>. In the ancient British language, +<i>Arth</i> means Bear, and <i>Urthyr</i>, great, wondrous.</p></div> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p><span class="smcap">Expression</span>: Read this selection very carefully to get at the true +meaning of each sentence and each thought. What peculiarities do +you notice in the style of the language employed? Talk about King +Arthur, and tell what you have learned elsewhere about him and his +knights of the Round Table. In what respects does this legend +differ from some other accounts of his boyhood? Now reread the +selection, picturing in your mind the peculiarities of place and +time.</p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ANTONYS_ORATION_OVER_CAESARS_DEAD_BODY63" id="ANTONYS_ORATION_OVER_CAESARS_DEAD_BODY63"></a>ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CÆSAR'S DEAD BODY<a name="FNanchor_63_63" id="FNanchor_63_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a></h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Antony.</i> Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The evil that men do lives after them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good is oft interrèd with their bones;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it were so, it was a grievous fault,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Brutus is an honorable man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So are they all, all honorable men—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was my friend, faithful and just to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Brutus says he was ambitious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brutus is an honorable man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath brought many captives home to Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that the poor have cried, Cæsar hath wept;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brutus is an honorable man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You all did see, that on the Lupercal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thrice presented him a kingly crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Brutus says he was ambitious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sure, he is an honorable man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here I am to speak what I do know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You all did love him once, not without cause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men have lost their reason.—Bear with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I must pause till it come back to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But yesterday the word of Cæsar might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have stood against the world; now lies he there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none so poor to do him reverence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O masters! If I were disposed to stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, you all know, are honorable men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not do them wrong; I rather choose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I will wrong such honorable men.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found it in his closet; 'tis his will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let but the commons hear this testament,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, dying, mention it within their wills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bequeathing it as a rich legacy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto their issue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Citizen.</i> We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>All.</i> The will, the will! we will hear Cæsar's will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Ant.</i> Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not meet you know how Cæsar loved you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You are not wood, you are not stones, but men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, being men, hearing the will of Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will inflame you, it will make you mad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, if you should, oh, what would come of it!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Cit.</i> Read the will! we'll hear it, Antony!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall read the will! Cæsar's will!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Ant.</i> Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear I wrong the honorable men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose daggers have stabbed Cæsar. I do fear it.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Cit.</i> They were traitors! honorable men!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>All.</i> The will! the testament!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Ant.</i> You will compel me, then, to read the will?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then make a ring about the corpse of Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let me show you him that made the will.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I descend? And will you give me leave?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>All.</i> Come down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>2 Citizen.</i> Descend. You shall have leave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 393px;"> +<img src="images/i246.jpg" width="393" height="600" alt=""You all do know this mantle."" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"You all do know this mantle."</span> +</div> + +<p class="center">(<i>Antony comes down from the pulpit.</i>)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Ant.</i> If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You all do know this mantle; I remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first time ever Cæsar put it on.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day he overcame the Nervii.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look! in this place, ran Cassius's dagger through;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See what a rent the envious Casca made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through this, the well-belovèd Brutus stabbed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as he plucked his cursèd steel away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As rushing out of doors, to be resolved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cæsar loved him!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This was the most unkindest cut of all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in his mantle muffling up his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even at the base of Pompey's statua,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I, and you, and all of us fell down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dint of pity; these are gracious drops.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind souls, What! weep you when you but behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To such a sudden flood of mutiny.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They that have done this deed are honorable.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What private griefs they have, alas! I know not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made them do it; they are wise and honorable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am no orator, as Brutus is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love my friend; and that they know full well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gave me public leave to speak of him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stir men's blood: I only speak right on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell you that which you yourselves do know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every wound of Cæsar that should move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63_63" id="Footnote_63_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> From "Julius Cæsar" by William Shakespeare (1564-1616).</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SELECTIONS_TO_BE_MEMORIZED" id="SELECTIONS_TO_BE_MEMORIZED"></a>SELECTIONS TO BE MEMORIZED</h2> + + +<h3>I. <span class="smcap">The Prayer Perfect<a name="THE_PRAYER_PERFECT" id="THE_PRAYER_PERFECT"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_64_64" id="FNanchor_64_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Lord! kind Lord!<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Gracious Lord! I pray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt look on all I love,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Tenderly to-day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weed their hearts of weariness;<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Scatter every care<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down a wake of angel-wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Winnowing the air.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bring unto the sorrowing<br /></span> +<span class="i1">All release from pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the lips of laughter<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Overflow again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with all the needy<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Oh, divide, I pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This vast treasure of content<br /></span> +<span class="i1">That is mine to-day!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>II. <span class="smcap">Be Just and Fear Not<a name="BE_JUST_AND_FEAR_NOT" id="BE_JUST_AND_FEAR_NOT"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_65_65" id="FNanchor_65_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be just and fear not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy God's, and truth's.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>III. <span class="smcap">If I Can Live<a name="IF_I_CAN_LIVE" id="IF_I_CAN_LIVE"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_66_66" id="FNanchor_66_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">If I can live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make some pale face brighter and to give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A second luster to some tear-dimmed eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Or e'en impart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One throb of comfort to an aching heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or cheer some wayworn soul in passing by;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">If I can lend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A strong hand to the falling, or defend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The right against one single envious strain,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">My life, though bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps, of much that seemeth dear and fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To us of earth, will not have been in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i5">The purest joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most near to heaven, far from earth's alloy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is bidding cloud give way to sun and shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i5">And 'twill be well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If on that day of days the angels tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of me, "She did her best for one of Thine."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>IV. <span class="smcap">The Bugle Song<a name="THE_BUGLE_SONG" id="THE_BUGLE_SONG"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_67_67" id="FNanchor_67_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The splendor falls on castle walls<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And snowy summits old in story:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The long light shakes across the lakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And thinner, dearer, farther going!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet and far from cliff and scar<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O love, they die in yon rich sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">They faint on hill or field or river;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our echoes roll from soul to soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And grow for ever and for ever.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3>V. <span class="smcap">The Ninetieth Psalm<a name="THE_NINETIETH_PSALM" id="THE_NINETIETH_PSALM"></a></span></h3> + +<p>Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations.</p> + +<p>Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the +earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God.</p> + +<p>Thou turns man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men.</p> + +<p>For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, +and as a watch in the night.</p> + +<p>Thou carried them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the +morning they are like grass which groweth up.</p> + +<p>In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut +down, and withereth.</p> + +<p>For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled.</p> + +<p>Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light +of thy countenance.</p> + +<p>For all our days are passed away in thy wrath; we spend our years as a +tale that is told.</p> + +<p>The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of +strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and +sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.</p> + +<p>Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, so is +thy wrath.</p> + +<p>So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto +wisdom....</p> + +<p>Oh, satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all +our days....</p> + +<p>Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their +children.</p> + + +<h3>VI. <span class="smcap">Recessional<a name="RECESSIONAL" id="RECESSIONAL"></a></span><a name="FNanchor_68_68" id="FNanchor_68_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a></h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God of our fathers, known of old—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Lord of our far-flung battle line—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath Whose awful Hand we hold<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Dominion over palm and pine—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest we forget—lest we forget!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tumult and the shouting dies—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The captains and the kings depart—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">A humble and a contrite heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God of Hosts, be with us yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest we forget—lest we forget!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far-called, our navies melt away—<br /></span> +<span class="i1">On dune and headland sinks the fire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, all our pomp of yesterday<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest we forget—lest we forget!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If, drunk with sight of power, we loose<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such boasting as the Gentiles use<br /></span> +<span class="i1">Or lesser breeds without the Law—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest we forget—lest we forget!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For heathen heart that puts her trust<br /></span> +<span class="i1">In reeking tube and iron shard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All valiant dust that builds on dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i1">And guarding calls not Thee to guard—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For frantic boast and foolish word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy mercy on Thy people, Lord!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="author">Amen.</p> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64_64" id="Footnote_64_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> From "Rhymes of Childhood," by James Whitcomb Riley, +copyright, 1890. Used by special permission of the publishers, The +Bobbs-Merrill Company.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65_65" id="Footnote_65_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> By William Shakespeare.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66_66" id="Footnote_66_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> Author unknown.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67_67" id="Footnote_67_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> By Alfred Tennyson.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68_68" id="Footnote_68_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> By Rudyard Kipling.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PROPER_NAMES" id="PROPER_NAMES"></a>PROPER NAMES</h2> + + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ad i ron'dacks</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Æ tō'li a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ag a mem'non</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">A lon'zo</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">A mē'li a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">An a tō'li a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">An'to ny</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">A pol'lo</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ar'gīve</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ar'thur</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Assisi (äs sē zē)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">As sy̆r'i a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bar'ba ra</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ba vā'ri a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ber'lin</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bevagno (ba vän'yo)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bœtia (be ō'shĭ a)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bo'na parte</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bozzaris (bo zăr'is)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Brit'ta ny</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bru'tus</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bun'yan</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bur'gun dy</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Bysshe (bĭsh)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ca'diz</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cal e do'ni a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ca thay'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cau'dle</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Charn'wood</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Chat ta hoo'chee</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Chis̝'<i>w</i>ick</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Col i sē'um</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cop'per field</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cōv'er ley</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Crēa'kle</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Cris'sa</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Dā'na</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Dăn'ube</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Dăv'en port</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Delft</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Domitian (do mĭsh'i an)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Eb en ē'zer</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Española (ĕs pan yō'la)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Eu'taw</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Fer nan'do</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Fĕz'zĭ wig</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Fran'cis</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Gal i lē'o</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Get'tys burg</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Gib'son</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Guä nä hă'nï</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hab'er sham</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hā'man</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Häm'elin</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Har'le quin</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hĕl'las</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hel'les pont</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Hu'bert</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ja mā<i>i</i>'ca</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Je mī'ma</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">John'son</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Juana (hwä'na)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Knick'erbock er</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">La n<i>i</i>ēr'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Lannes (län)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Leg'horn</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Locks'ley</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Lor raine'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mag ne'si a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Măr'i on</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mas'sa soit</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mĭc<i>i</i>h'ael mas</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mon'm<i>o</i>uth</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mont calm'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mon te bel'lo</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mont göm'er y</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Na pō'le on</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Need'wood</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Nic<i>h</i>'o las</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Nin'e veh</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Or'e gon</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">O res'tēs</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Pal'las</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Phœ'bus</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Pinzon (pēn thōn')</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Pla tæ'a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Po to'mac</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Pro vence' (-văns)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Răph'a el</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Răt'is bon</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Rieti (rē ĕ'tē)</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Rog'er</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Rouen (rōō än')</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sa'lem</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">San'c<i>h</i>ez</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">San Sal va dor'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">San tee'</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sar a to'ga</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Sed'ley</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Shel'ley</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Spoun'cer</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Tō'bit</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Tō'phet</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Tul'lĭ ver</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Tȳre</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Um'bră a</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Văl'en tīne</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Wake' field</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Ys̝'a bel</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LIST_OF_AUTHORS" id="LIST_OF_AUTHORS"></a>LIST OF AUTHORS</h2> + +<p>(Place of birth in parentheses. Title of one noted book in italics. +Title of most famous poem in quotation marks.)</p> + + +<p><i>Browning, Robert.</i> English poet. <i>The Ring and the Book.</i> (Born near +London.) Lived in Italy. 1812-1889.</p> + +<p><i>Bryant, William Cullen.</i> American poet and journalist. "Thanatopsis." +(Massachusetts.) New York. 1794-1878.</p> + +<p><i>Buckley, Arabella B.</i> (<i>Mrs. Fisher</i>). English writer on popular +science. (Brighton, England.) 1840——.</p> + +<p><i>Bunyan, John.</i> English preacher and writer. <i>Pilgrim's Progress.</i> +(Bedford.) London. 1628-1688.</p> + +<p><i>Burns, Robert.</i> Scottish poet. "Tam O'Shanter." (Alloway.) Dumfries. +1759-1796.</p> + +<p><i>Campbell, Thomas.</i> Scottish poet. "Hohenlinden." (Glasgow.) 1777-1844.</p> + +<p><i>Canton, William.</i> English journalist and writer. 1845——.</p> + +<p><i>Carnegie (kär nĕg'ĭ), Andrew.</i> American manufacturer and +philanthropist. (Scotland.) New York. 1837——.</p> + +<p><i>Cherry, Andrew.</i> Irish poet and dramatist. <i>All for Fame.</i> (Ireland.) +1762-1812.</p> + +<p><i>Collins, William.</i> English poet. (Chichester.) 1721-1759.</p> + +<p><i>Columbus, Christopher.</i> The discoverer of America. (Genoa, Italy.) +Spain. 1446(?)-1506.</p> + +<p><i>Cook, Eliza.</i> English poet. "The Old Arm-Chair." 1818-1889.</p> + +<p><i>Dickens, Charles.</i> English novelist. <i>David Copperfield.</i> (Portsmouth.) +London. 1812-1870.</p> + +<p><i>Domett (dŏm'et), Alfred.</i> English poet and statesman. "Christmas +Hymn." 1811-1887.</p> + +<p><i>Dumas (dö mä'), Alexandre.</i> French novelist and dramatist. <i>The +Count of Monte Cristo.</i> 1802-1870.</p> + +<p><i>Eliot, George (Mrs. Mary Ann Evans Cross).</i> English novelist. <i>The Mill +on the Floss.</i> 1819-1880.</p> + +<p><i>Emerson, Ralph Waldo.</i> American philosopher and poet. <i>Essays.</i> +(Boston.) 1803-1882.</p> + +<p><i>Everett, Edward.</i> American statesman and orator. <i>Orations and +Speeches.</i> (Massachusetts.) 1794-1865.</p> + +<p><i>Fields, James T.</i> American publisher and author. (New Hampshire.) +Massachusetts. 1817-1881.</p> + +<p><i>Giberne, Agnes.</i> English writer on scientific subjects.</p> + +<p><i>Goldsmith, Oliver.</i> English poet and novelist. <i>Vicar of Wakefield.</i> +(Ireland.) 1728-1774.</p> + +<p><i>Halleck, Fitz-Greene.</i> American poet. "Marco Bozzaris." (Connecticut.) +1790-1867.</p> + +<p><i>Hawthorne, Nathaniel.</i> American novelist. <i>The Wonder Book.</i> +(Massachusetts.) 1804-1864.</p> + +<p><i>Henry, Patrick.</i> American patriot. (Virginia.) 1736-1799.</p> + +<p><i>Herrick, Robert.</i> English poet. 1591-1674.</p> + +<p><i>Holmes, Oliver Wendell.</i> American author. <i>Autocrat of the Breakfast +Table.</i> (Massachusetts.) 1809-1894.</p> + +<p><i>Hugo, Victor.</i> French novelist and poet. 1802-1885.</p> + +<p><i>Hunt, Leigh (James Henry Leigh Hunt).</i> English essayist and poet. "Abou +ben Adhem." 1784-1859.</p> + +<p><i>Irving, Washington.</i> American prose writer. <i>The Sketch Book.</i> (New +York.) 1783-1859.</p> + +<p><i>Jerrold, Douglas William.</i> English humorist. <i>Mrs. Caudle's Curtain +Lectures.</i> (London.) 1803-1857.</p> + +<p><i>Jonson, Ben.</i> English dramatist. 1573-1637.</p> + +<p><i>Kipling, Rudyard.</i> English writer. <i>The Jungle Book.</i> (Bombay, India.) +England. 1865——.</p> + +<p><i>Lamb, Charles.</i> English essayist. (London.) 1775-1834.</p> + +<p><i>Lanier, Sidney.</i> American musician and author. <i>Poems.</i> (Georgia.) +Maryland. 1842-1881.</p> + +<p><i>Lee, Henry.</i> American general, father of Robert E. Lee. (Virginia.) +1756-1818.</p> + +<p><i>Lincoln, Abraham.</i> Sixteenth president of the United States. +(Kentucky.) Illinois. 1809-1865.</p> + +<p><i>Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth.</i> American poet. <i>Poems.</i> (Maine.) +Massachusetts. 1807-1882.</p> + +<p><i>Lowell, James Russell.</i> American poet and essayist. (Massachusetts.) +1819-1891.</p> + +<p><i>Macleod, Fiona (True name William Sharp).</i> Scottish poet and +story-writer. 1856-1905.</p> + +<p><i>Mitchell, Donald G.</i> American essayist. <i>Reveries of a Bachelor.</i> +(Connecticut.) 1822-1908.</p> + +<p><i>Parker, Theodore.</i> American clergyman and author. (Massachusetts.) +1810-1860.</p> + +<p><i>Poe, Edgar Allan.</i> American poet and story-writer. "The Raven." +(Massachusetts.) Virginia. 1809-1849.</p> + +<p><i>Pope, Alexander.</i> English poet. (London.) 1688-1744.</p> + +<p><i>Proctor, Richard A.</i> English astronomer. 1837-1888.</p> + +<p><i>Riley, James Whitcomb.</i> American poet. (Indiana.) 1852——.</p> + +<p><i>Rogers, Samuel.</i> English poet. (London.) 1763-1855.</p> + +<p><i>Ryan, Abram J.</i> American clergyman and poet. (Virginia.) Georgia; +Kentucky. 1839-1886.</p> + +<p><i>Scott, Sir Walter.</i> Scottish poet and novelist. <i>Ivanhoe.</i> (Edinburgh.) +1771-1832.</p> + +<p><i>Shakespeare, William.</i> The greatest of English dramatists. +(Stratford-on-Avon.) 1564-1616.</p> + +<p><i>Sharp, William.</i> See Macleod, Fiona.</p> + +<p><i>Shelley, Percy Bysshe (bĭsh).</i> English poet. <i>Poems.</i> 1792-1822.</p> + +<p><i>Simms, William Gilmore.</i> American novelist and poet. (South Carolina.) +1806-1870.</p> + +<p><i>Sophocles (sŏf'o klēz).</i> Greek tragic poet. 495-406 <span class="smcap">B.C.</span></p> + +<p><i>Sylvester, Joshua.</i> English poet. 1563-1618.</p> + +<p><i>Tennyson, Alfred.</i> English poet. <i>In Memoriam.</i> (Lincolnshire.) +1809-1892.</p> + +<p><i>Thackeray, William Makepeace.</i> English novelist and critic. (Calcutta, +India.) London. 1811-1863.</p> + +<p><i>Timrod, Henry.</i> American poet. (South Carolina.) 1829-1867.</p> + +<p><i>Whitman, Walt.</i> American poet. <i>Leaves of Grass.</i> (New York.) +Washington, D.C.; New Jersey. 1819-1892.</p> + +<p><i>Whittier, John Greenleaf.</i> American poet. <i>Poems.</i> (Massachusetts.) +1807-1892.</p> + +<p><i>Winslow, Edward.</i> Governor of Plymouth colony. (Worcestershire, Eng.) +Plymouth, Massachusetts. 1595-1655.</p> + +<p><i>Wotton, Sir Henry.</i> English poet. 1568-1639.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Eighth Reader, by James Baldwin and Ida C. 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Bender + +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: Eighth Reader + +Author: James Baldwin + Ida C. Bender + +Release Date: November 28, 2009 [EBook #30559] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EIGHTH READER *** + + + + +Produced by Carla Foust and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from scanned images of public domain material +from the Google Print project.) + + + + + +Transcriber's note + +Minor changes have been made to correct typesetter errors; otherwise, +every effort has been made to remain true to the authors' words and +intent. + +Characters that could not be displayed directly in Latin-1 are +transcribed as follows: + + [)a], [)e], [)i], [)o], [)y] - breve above letter + [=a], [=e], [=i], [=o], [=y] - macron above letter + [:a], [:i], [:o], [:u] - umlaut above letter + [+s] - tack up below letter + + + + +[Illustration: David Copperfield at Salem House + +(See page 23).] + + + + + READING WITH EXPRESSION + + EIGHTH READER + + BY + + JAMES BALDWIN + + AUTHOR OF "SCHOOL READING BY GRADES--BALDWIN'S READERS," + "HARPER'S READERS," ETC. + + AND + + IDA C. BENDER + + SUPERVISOR OF PRIMARY GRADES, BUFFALO, NEW YORK + + _EIGHT-BOOK SERIES_ + + NEW YORK .:. CINCINNATI .:. CHICAGO + AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY + + AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. + + ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL, LONDON. + + B. & B. EIGHTH READER. + + W. P. 2 + + + + +TO THE TEACHER + + +The paramount design of this series of School Readers is to help young +people to acquire the art and the habit of reading well--that is, of +interpreting the printed page in such manner as to give pleasure and +instruction to themselves and to those who listen to them. In his eighth +year at school the pupil is supposed to be able to read, with ease and +with some degree of fluency, anything in the English language that may +come to his hand; but, that he may read always with the understanding +and in a manner pleasing to his hearers and satisfactory to himself, he +must still have daily systematic practice in the rendering of selections +not too difficult for comprehension and yet embracing various styles of +literary workmanship and illustrating the different forms of English +composition. The contents of this volume have been chosen and arranged +to supply--or, where not supplying, to suggest--the materials for this +kind of practice. + +Particular attention is called both to the high quality and to the wide +variety of the selections herein presented. They include specimens of +many styles of literary workmanship--the products of the best thought of +modern times. It is believed that their study will not only prove +interesting to pupils, but will inspire them with a desire to read still +more upon the same subjects or from the works of the same authors; for +it is only by loving books and learning to know them that any one can +become a really good reader. + +The pupils should be encouraged to seek for and point out the particular +passages in each selection that are distinguished for their beauty, +their truth, or their peculiar adaptability to the purpose in view. The +habit should be cultivated of looking for and enjoying the admirable +qualities of any worthy literary production; and special attention +should be given to the style of writing which characterizes and gives +value to the works of various authors. These points should be the +subjects of daily discussions between teacher and pupils. + +The notes under the head of "Expression," which follow many of the +lessons, are intended, not only to aid in securing correctness of +expression, but also to afford suggestions for the appreciative reading +of the selections and an intelligent comparison of their literary +peculiarities. In the study of new, difficult, or unusual words, the +pupils should invariably refer to the dictionary. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + Brother and Sister _George Eliot_ 11 + + My Last Day at Salem House _Charles Dickens_ 22 + + The Departure from Miss Pinkerton's _W. M. Thackeray_ 27 + + Two Gems from Browning: + I. Incident of the French Camp _Robert Browning_ 36 + II. Dog Tray _Robert Browning_ 41 + + The Discovery of America _Washington Irving_ 43 + + The Glove and the Lions _Leigh Hunt_ 48 + + St. Francis, the Gentle _William Canton_ 51 + + The Sermon of St. Francis _Henry W. Longfellow_ 54 + + In the Woods _John Burroughs_ 56 + + Bees and Flowers _Arabella B. Buckley_ 59 + + Song of the River _Abram J. Ryan_ 64 + + Song of the Chattahoochee _Sidney Lanier_ 66 + + War and Peace: + I. War as the Mother of Valor and Civilization + _Andrew Carnegie_ 68 + II. Friendship among Nations _Victor Hugo_ 71 + III. Soldier, Rest _Sir Walter Scott_ 74 + IV. The Soldier's Dream _Thomas Campbell_ 75 + V. How Sleep the Brave? _William Collins_ 76 + + Early Times in New York _Washington Irving_ 77 + + A Winter Evening in Old New England _J. G. Whittier_ 82 + + The Old-fashioned Thanksgiving _Donald G. Mitchell_ 84 + + A Thanksgiving _Robert Herrick_ 92 + + First Days at Wakefield _Oliver Goldsmith_ 94 + + Doubting Castle _John Bunyan_ 100 + + Shooting with the Longbow _Sir Walter Scott_ 108 + + A Christmas Hymn _Alfred Domett_ 117 + + Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's _Charles Dickens_ 120 + + The Christmas Holly _Eliza Cook_ 124 + + The New Year's Dinner Party _Charles Lamb_ 125 + + The Town Pump _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 128 + + Come up from the Fields, Father _Walt Whitman_ 135 + + The Address at Gettysburg _Abraham Lincoln_ 139 + + Ode to the Confederate Dead _Henry Timrod_ 140 + + The Chariot Race _From Sophocles_ 141 + + The Coliseum at Midnight _Henry W. Longfellow_ 145 + + The Deacon's Masterpiece _Oliver Wendell Holmes_ 147 + + Dogs and Cats _Alexandre Dumas_ 154 + + The Owl Critic _James T. Fields_ 157 + + Mrs. Caudle's Umbrella Lecture _Douglas William Jerrold_ 161 + + The Dark Day in Connecticut _J. G. Whittier_ 164 + + Two Interesting Letters: + I. Columbus to the Lord Treasurer of Spain 167 + II. Governor Winslow to a Friend in England 171 + + Poems of Home and Country: + I. "This is My Own, My Native Land" _Sir Walter Scott_ 174 + II. The Green Little Shamrock of Ireland _Andrew Cherry_ 175 + III. My Heart's in the Highlands _Robert Burns_ 176 + IV. The Fatherland _James R. Lowell_ 177 + V. Home _Oliver Goldsmith_ 178 + + The Age of Coal _Agnes Giberne_ 179 + + Something about the Moon _Richard A. Proctor_ 183 + + The Coming of the Birds _Ralph Waldo Emerson_ 187 + + The Return of the Birds _John Burroughs_ 188 + + The Poet and the Bird: + I. The Song of the Lark 193 + II. To a Skylark _Percy B. Shelley_ 197 + + Hark, Hark! the Lark _William Shakespeare_ 201 + + Echoes of the American Revolution: + I. Patrick Henry's Famous Speech 202 + II. Marion's Men _W. Gilmore Simms_ 206 + III. In Memory of George Washington _Henry Lee_ 209 + + Three Great American Poems: + I. Thanatopsis _William Cullen Bryant_ 213 + II. The Bells _Edgar Allan Poe_ 219 + III. Marco Bozzaris _Fitz-Greene Halleck_ 224 + + The Indian _Edward Everett_ 228 + + National Retribution _Theodore Parker_ 231 + + Who are Blessed _The Bible_ 233 + + Little Gems from the Older Poets: + I. The Noble Nature _Ben Jonson_ 235 + II. A Contented Mind _Joshua Sylvester_ 235 + III. A Happy Life _Sir Henry Wotton_ 236 + IV. Solitude _Alexander Pope_ 237 + V. A Wish _Samuel Rogers_ 238 + + How King Arthur got his Name _Fiona Macleod_ 239 + + Antony's Oration over Caesar's Dead Body _William Shakespeare_ 244 + + Selections to be Memorized: + I. The Prayer Perfect _James Whitcomb Riley_ 250 + II. Be Just and Fear Not _William Shakespeare_ 250 + III. If I can Live _Author Unknown_ 251 + IV. The Bugle Song _Alfred Tennyson_ 251 + V. The Ninetieth Psalm _Book of Psalms_ 252 + VI. Recessional _Rudyard Kipling_ 253 + + Proper Names 255 + + List of Authors 257 + + + + +ACKNOWLEDGMENTS + + +Acknowledgment and thanks are proffered to Andrew Carnegie for +permission to reprint in this volume his tract on "War as the Mother of +Civilization and Valor"; to the Bobbs-Merrill Company for their courtesy +in allowing us to use "The Prayer Perfect," from James Whitcomb Riley's +_Rhymes of Childhood_; to David Mackay for the poem by Walt Whitman +entitled "Come up from the Fields, Father"; to Charles Scribner's Sons +for the "Song of the Chattahoochee," from the _Poems of Sidney Lanier_; +and, also, to the same publishers for the selection, "The Old-fashioned +Thanksgiving," from _Bound Together_ by Donald G. Mitchell. The +selections from John Burroughs, Ralph Waldo Emerson, James T. Fields, +Nathaniel Hawthorne, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Henry W. Longfellow, and +John G. Whittier are used by permission of, and special arrangement +with, Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers of the works +of those authors. + + + + +EIGHTH READER + + + + +BROTHER AND SISTER[1] + + +I. THE HOME COMING + +Tom was to arrive early in the afternoon, and there was another +fluttering heart besides Maggie's when it was late enough for the sound +of the gig wheels to be expected. For if Mrs. Tulliver had a strong +feeling, it was fondness for her boy. At last the sound came--that quick +light bowling of the gig wheels. + +"There he is, my sweet lad!" Mrs. Tulliver stood with her arms open; +Maggie jumped first on one leg and then on the other; while Tom +descended from the gig, and said, with masculine reticence as to the +tender emotions, "Hallo! Yap--what! are you there?" + +Nevertheless he submitted to be kissed willingly enough, though Maggie +hung on his neck in rather a strangling fashion, while his blue eyes +wandered toward the croft and the lambs and the river, where he promised +himself he would begin to fish the first thing to-morrow morning. He was +one of those lads that grow everywhere in England, and at twelve or +thirteen years of age look as much alike as goslings,--a lad with a +physiognomy in which it seems impossible to discern anything but the +generic character of boyhood. + +"Maggie," said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a corner, as soon as +his mother was gone out to examine his box, and the warm parlor had +taken off the chill he had felt from the long drive, "you don't know +what I've got in my pockets," nodding his head up and down as a means of +rousing her sense of mystery. + +"No," said Maggie. "How stodgy they look, Tom! Is it marbles or +cobnuts?" Maggie's heart sank a little, because Tom always said it was +"no good" playing with her at those games--she played so badly. + +"Marbles! no; I've swopped all my marbles with the little fellows, and +cobnuts are no fun, you silly, only when the nuts are green. But see +here!" He drew something half out of his right-hand pocket. + +"What is it?" said Maggie, in a whisper. "I can see nothing but a bit of +yellow." + +"Why, it's--a--new--guess, Maggie!" + +"Oh, I can't guess, Tom," said Maggie, impatiently. + +"Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you," said Tom, thrusting his +hand back into his pocket, and looking determined. + +"No, Tom," said Maggie, imploringly, laying hold of the arm that was +held stiffly in the pocket. "I'm not cross, Tom; it was only because I +can't bear guessing. Please be good to me." + +[Illustration: The Home Coming.] + +Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, "Well, then, it's a new fish +line--two new ones--one for you, Maggie, all to yourself. I wouldn't go +halves in the toffee and gingerbread on purpose to save the money; and +Gibson and Spouncer fought with me because I wouldn't. And here's hooks; +see here!--I say, won't we go and fish to-morrow down by the Round Pool? +And you shall catch your own fish, Maggie, and put the worms on, and +everything--won't it be fun?" + +Maggie's answer was to throw her arms around Tom's neck and hug him, and +hold her cheek against his without speaking, while he slowly unwound +some of the line, saying, after a pause:-- + +"Wasn't I a good brother, now, to buy you a line all to yourself? You +know, I needn't have bought it, if I hadn't liked." + +"Yes, very, very good--I do love you, Tom." + +Tom had put the line back in his pocket, and was looking at the hooks +one by one, before he spoke again. "And the fellows fought me, because I +wouldn't give in about the toffee." + +"Oh, dear! I wish they wouldn't fight at your school, Tom. Didn't it +hurt you?" + +"Hurt me? no," said Tom, putting up the hooks again, taking out a large +pocketknife, and slowly opening the largest blade, which he looked at +meditatively as he rubbed his finger along it. Then he added--"I gave +Spouncer a black eye, I know--that's what he got by wanting to leather +me; I wasn't going to go halves because anybody leathered me." + +"Oh, how brave you are, Tom! I think you're like Samson. If there came a +lion roaring at me, I think you'd fight him--wouldn't you, Tom?" + +"How can a lion come roaring at you, you silly thing? There's no lions, +only in the shows." + +"No; but if we were in the lion countries--I mean in Africa, where it's +very hot--the lions eat people there. I can show it to you in the book +where I read it." + +"Well, I should get a gun and shoot him." + +"But if you hadn't got a gun--we might have gone out, you know, not +thinking just as we go fishing; and then a great lion might run toward +us roaring, and we couldn't get away from him. What should you do, Tom?" +Tom paused, and at last turned away contemptuously, saying, "But the +lion isn't coming. What's the use of talking?" + +"But I like to fancy how it would be," said Maggie, following him. "Just +think what you would do, Tom." + +"Oh, don't bother, Maggie! you're such a silly--I shall go and see my +rabbits." + + +II. THE FALLING OUT + +Maggie's heart began to flutter with fear. She dared not tell the sad +truth at once, but she walked after Tom in trembling silence as he went +out, thinking how she could tell him the news so as to soften at once +his sorrow and his anger; for Maggie dreaded Tom's anger of all +things--it was quite a different anger from her own. "Tom," she said +timidly, when they were out of doors, "how much money did you give for +your rabbits?" + +"Two half crowns and a sixpence," said Tom. + +"I think I've got a great deal more than that in my steel purse +upstairs. I'll ask mother to give it to you." + +"What for?" said Tom. "I don't want your money, you silly thing. I've +got a great deal more money than you, because I'm a boy. I always have +half sovereigns and sovereigns for my Christmas boxes, because I shall +be a man, and you only have five-shilling pieces, because you're only a +girl." + +"Well, but, Tom--if mother would let me give you two half crowns and a +sixpence out of my purse to put into your pocket and spend, you know; +and buy some more rabbits with it?" + +"More rabbits? I don't want any more." + +"Oh, but, Tom, they're all dead." + +Tom stopped immediately in his walk and turned round toward Maggie. "You +forgot to feed 'em, then, and Harry forgot," he said, his color +heightening for a moment, but soon subsiding. "I'll pitch into +Harry--I'll have him turned away. And I don't love you, Maggie. You +shan't go fishing with me to-morrow. I told you to go and see the +rabbits every day." + +He walked on again. + +"Yes, but I forgot--and I couldn't help it, indeed, Tom. I'm so very +sorry," said Maggie, while the tears rushed fast. + +"You're a naughty girl," said Tom, severely; "and I'm sorry I bought you +the fish line. I don't love you." + +"Oh, Tom, it's very cruel," sobbed Maggie. "I'd forgive you, if you +forgot anything--I wouldn't mind what you did--I'd forgive you and love +you." + +"Yes, you're a silly--but I never do forget things--I don't." + +"Oh, please forgive me, Tom; my heart will break," said Maggie, shaking +with sobs, clinging to Tom's arm, and laying her wet cheek on his +shoulder. + +Tom shook her off, and stopped again, saying in a peremptory tone, "Now, +Maggie, you just listen. Aren't I a good brother to you?" + +"Ye-ye-es," sobbed Maggie, her chin rising and falling convulsedly. + +"Didn't I think about your fish line all this quarter, and mean to buy +it, and saved my money o' purpose, and wouldn't go halves in the toffee, +and Spouncer fought me because I wouldn't?" + +"Ye-ye-es--and I--lo-lo-love you so, Tom." + +"But you're a naughty girl. Last holidays you licked the paint off my +lozenge box, and the holidays before that you let the boat drag my fish +line down when I'd set you to watch it, and you pushed your head through +my kite, all for nothing." + +"But I didn't mean," said Maggie; "I couldn't help it." + +"Yes, you could," said Tom, "if you'd minded what you were doing. And +you're a naughty girl, and you shan't go fishing with me to-morrow." +With this terrible conclusion, Tom ran away from Maggie toward the mill. + +Maggie stood motionless, except for her sobs, for a minute or two; then +she turned round and ran into the house, and up to her attic, where she +sat on the floor, and laid her head against the worm-eaten shelf, with a +crushing sense of misery. Tom was come home, and she had thought how +happy she should be--and now he was cruel to her. What use was anything, +if Tom didn't love her? Oh, he was very cruel! Hadn't she wanted to give +him the money, and said how very sorry she was? She had never been +naughty to Tom--had never meant to be naughty to him. + +"Oh, he is cruel!" Maggie sobbed aloud, finding a wretched pleasure in +the hollow resonance that came through the long empty space of the +attic. She was too miserable to be angry. + + +III. THE MAKING UP + +Maggie soon thought she had been hours in the attic, and it must be tea +time, and they were all having their tea, and not thinking of her. Well, +then, she would stay up there and starve herself--hide herself behind +the tub, and stay there all night; and then they would all be +frightened, and Tom would be sorry. Thus Maggie thought as she crept +behind the tub; but presently she began to cry again at the idea that +they didn't mind her being there. + +Tom had been too much interested in going the round of the premises, to +think of Maggie and the effect his anger had produced on her. He meant +to punish her, and that business having been performed, he occupied +himself with other matters, like a practical person. But when he had +been called in to tea, his father said, "Why, where's the little wench?" +and Mrs. Tulliver, almost at the same moment, said, "Where's your little +sister?"--both of them having supposed that Maggie and Tom had been +together all the afternoon. + +"I don't know," said Tom. He didn't want to "tell" of Maggie, though he +was angry with her; for Tom Tulliver was a lad of honor. + +"What! hasn't she been playing with you all this while?" said the +father. "She'd been thinking of nothing but your coming home." + +"I haven't seen her this two hours," says Tom, commencing on the plum +cake. + +"Goodness heart! She's got drowned!" exclaimed Mrs. Tulliver, rising +from her seat and running to the window. "How could you let her do so?" +she added, as became a fearful woman, accusing she didn't know whom of +she didn't know what. + +"Nay, nay, she's none drowned," said Mr. Tulliver. "You've been naughty +to her, I doubt, Tom?" + +"I'm sure I haven't, father," said Tom, indignantly. "I think she's in +the house." + +"Perhaps up in that attic," said Mrs. Tulliver, "a-singing and talking +to herself, and forgetting all about mealtimes." + +"You go and fetch her down, Tom," said Mr. Tulliver, rather sharply, his +perspicacity or his fatherly fondness for Maggie making him suspect that +the lad had been hard upon "the little un," else she would never have +left his side. "And be good to her, do you hear? Else I'll let you know +better." + +Tom never disobeyed his father, for Mr. Tulliver was a peremptory man; +but he went out rather sullenly, carrying his piece of plum cake, and +not intending to reprieve Maggie's punishment, which was no more than +she deserved. Tom was only thirteen, and had no decided views in grammar +and arithmetic, regarding them for the most part as open questions, but +he was particularly clear and positive on one point--namely, that he +would punish everybody who deserved it; why, he wouldn't have minded +being punished himself, if he deserved it; but, then, he never did +deserve it. + +It was Tom's step, then, that Maggie heard on the stairs, when her need +of love had triumphed over her pride, and she was going down with her +swollen eyes and disheveled hair to beg for pity. At least her father +would stroke her head and say, "Never mind, my wench." + +But she knew Tom's step, and her heart began to beat violently with the +sudden shock of hope. He only stood still at the top of the stairs and +said, "Maggie, you're to come down." But she rushed to him and clung +round his neck, sobbing, "O Tom, please forgive me--I can't bear it--I +will always be good--always remember things--do love me--please, dear +Tom!" + +Maggie and Tom were still very much like young animals, and so she could +rub her cheek against his, and kiss his ear in a random, sobbing way; +and there were tender fibers in the lad that had been used to answer to +Maggie's fondling; so that he behaved with a weakness quite inconsistent +with his resolution to punish her as much as she deserved; he actually +began to kiss her in return, and say:-- + +"Don't cry, then, Magsie--here, eat a bit o' cake." Maggie's sobs began +to subside, and she put out her mouth for the cake and bit a piece; and +then Tom bit a piece, just for company, and they ate together and rubbed +each other's cheeks and brows and noses together, while they ate, with a +humiliating resemblance to two friendly ponies. + +"Come along, Magsie, and have tea," said Tom at last, when there was no +more cake except what was downstairs. + +So ended the sorrows of this day. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 1: From "The Mill on the Floss," by George Eliot.] + + + + +MY LAST DAY AT SALEM HOUSE[2] + + +I pass over all that happened at school, until the anniversary of my +birthday came round in March. The great remembrance by which that time +is marked in my mind seems to have swallowed up all lesser +recollections, and to exist alone. + +It is even difficult for me to believe there was a gap of full two +months between my return to Salem House and the arrival of that +birthday. I can only understand that the fact was so, because I know it +must have been so; otherwise I should feel convinced there was no +interval, and that the one occasion trod upon the other's heels. + +How well I recollect the kind of day it was! I smell the fog that hung +about the place; I see the hoar-frost ghostly, through it; I feel my +rimy hair fall clammy on my cheek; I look along the dim perspective of +the schoolroom, with a spluttering candle here and there to light up the +foggy morning, and the breath of the boys wreathing and smoking in the +raw cold as they blow upon their fingers, and tap their feet upon the +floor. + +It was after breakfast, and we had been summoned in from the playground, +when Mr. Sharp entered and said, "David Copperfield is to go into the +parlor." + +I expected a hamper from home, and brightened at the order. Some of the +boys about me put in their claim not to be forgotten in the distribution +of the good things, as I got out of my seat with great alacrity. + +"Don't hurry, David," said Mr. Sharp. "There's time enough, my boy, +don't hurry." + +I might have been surprised by the feeling tone in which he spoke, if I +had given it a thought; but I gave it none until afterward. I hurried +away to the parlor; and there I found Mr. Creakle, sitting at his +breakfast with the cane and newspaper before him, and Mrs. Creakle with +an opened letter in her hand. But no hamper. + +"David Copperfield," said Mrs. Creakle, leading me to a sofa, and +sitting down beside me, "I want to speak to you very particularly. I +have something to tell you, my child." + +Mr. Creakle, at whom of course I looked, shook his head without looking +at me, and stopped up a sigh with a very large piece of buttered toast. + +"You are too young to know how the world changes every day," said Mrs. +Creakle, "and how the people in it pass away. But we all have to learn +it, David; some of us when we are young, some of us when we are old, +some of us at all times of our lives." + +I looked at her earnestly. + +"When you came away from home at the end of the vacation," said Mrs. +Creakle, after a pause, "were they all well?" After another pause, "Was +your mamma well?" + +I trembled without distinctly knowing why, and still looked at her +earnestly, making no attempt to answer. + +"Because," said she, "I grieve to tell you that I hear this morning your +mamma is very ill." + +A mist rose between Mrs. Creakle and me, and her figure seemed to move +in it for an instant. Then I felt the burning tears run down my face, +and it was steady again. + +"She is very dangerously ill," she added. + +I knew all now. + +"She is dead." There was no need to tell me so. I had already broken out +into a desolate cry, and felt an orphan in the wide world. + +She was very kind to me. She kept me there all day, and left me alone +sometimes; and I cried and wore myself to sleep, and awoke and cried +again. When I could cry no more, I began to think; and then the +oppression on my breast was heaviest, and my grief a dull pain that +there was no ease for. + +And yet my thoughts were idle; not intent on the calamity that weighed +upon my heart, but idly loitering near it. I thought of our house shut +up and hushed. I thought of the little baby, who, Mrs. Creakle said, had +been pining away for some time, and who, they believed, would die too. I +thought of my father's grave in the churchyard, by our house, and of my +mother lying there beneath the tree I knew so well. + +I stood upon a chair when I was left alone, and looked into the glass to +see how red my eyes were, and how sorrowful my face. I considered, after +some hours were gone, if my tears were really hard to flow now, as they +seemed to be, what, in connection with my loss, it would affect me most +to think of when I drew near home--for I was going home to the funeral. +I am sensible of having felt that a dignity attached to me among the +rest of the boys, and that I was important in my affliction. + +If ever child were stricken with sincere grief, I was. But I remembered +that this importance was a kind of satisfaction to me, when I walked in +the playground that afternoon while the boys were in school. When I saw +them glancing at me out of the windows, as they went up to their +classes, I felt distinguished, and looked more melancholy, and walked +slower. When school was over, and they came out and spoke to me, I felt +it rather good in myself not to be proud to any of them, and to take +exactly the same notice of them all, as before. + +I was to go home next night; not by the mail, but by the heavy night +coach, which was called the Farmer, and was principally used by country +people traveling short intermediate distances upon the road. We had no +story telling that evening, and Traddles insisted on lending me his +pillow. I don't know what good he thought it would do me, for I had one +of my own; but it was all he had to lend, poor fellow, except a sheet of +letter paper full of skeletons; and that he gave me at parting, as a +soother of my sorrows and a contribution to my peace of mind. + +I left Salem House upon the morrow afternoon. I little thought then that +I left it, never to return. We traveled very slowly all night, and did +not get into Yarmouth before nine or ten o'clock in the morning. I +looked out for Mr. Barkis, but he was not there; and instead of him a +fat, short-winded, merry-looking little old man in black, with rusty +little bunches of ribbons at the knees of his breeches, black stockings, +and a broad-brimmed hat, came puffing up to the coach window, and said, +"Master Copperfield?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Will you come with me, young sir, if you please," he said, opening the +door, "and I shall have the pleasure of taking you home!" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 2: From "David Copperfield," by Charles Dickens.] + + EXPRESSION: The two stories which you have just read were written + by two of the greatest masters of fiction in English literature. + Talk with your teacher about George Eliot and Charles Dickens, and + learn all that you can about their works. Which of these two + stories do you prefer? Why? + + Reread the conversation on pages 14 and 15. Imagine yourself to be + Tom or Maggie, and speak just as he or she did. Read the + conversation on pages 16 and 17 in the same way. Reread other + portions that you like particularly well. + + In what respect does the second story differ most strongly from the + first? Select the most striking passage and read it with expression + sad feeling. + + + + +THE DEPARTURE FROM MISS PINKERTON'S[3] + + +I + +One sunshiny morning in June, there drove up to the great iron gate of +Miss Pinkerton's Academy for young ladies, on Chiswick Mall, a large +family coach, with two fat horses in blazing harness, driven by a fat +coachman in a three-cornered hat and wig, at the rate of four miles an +hour. + +A black servant, who reposed on the box beside the fat coachman, +uncurled his bandy legs as soon as the equipage drew up opposite Miss +Pinkerton's shining brass plate; and as he pulled the bell, at least a +score of young heads were seen peering out of the narrow windows of the +stately old brick house. Nay, the acute observer might have recognized +the little red nose of good-natured Miss Jemima Pinkerton herself, +rising over some geranium pots in the window of that lady's own drawing +room. + +"It is Mrs. Sedley's coach, sister," said Miss Jemima. "Sambo, the black +servant, has just rung the bell; and the coachman has a new red +waistcoat." + +"Have you completed all the necessary preparations incident to Miss +Sedley's departure?" asked Miss Pinkerton, that majestic lady, the +friend of the famous literary man, Dr. Johnson, the author of the great +"Dixonary" of the English language, called commonly the great +Lexicographer. + +"The girls were up at four this morning, packing her trunks, sister," +answered Miss Jemima. "We have made her a bowpot." + +"Say a bouquet, sister Jemima; 'tis more genteel." + +"Well, a booky as big almost as a haystack. I have put up two bottles of +the gillyflower water for Mrs. Sedley, and the receipt for making it is +in Amelia's box." + +"And I trust, Miss Jemima, you have made a copy of Miss Sedley's +account. That is it, is it? Very good! Ninety-three pounds, four +shillings. Be kind enough to address it to John Sedley, Esquire, and to +seal this billet which I have written to his lady." + + +II + +In Miss Jemima's eyes an autograph letter of her sister, Miss Pinkerton, +was an object of as deep veneration as would have been a letter from a +sovereign. Only when her pupils quitted the establishment, or when they +were about to be married, and once when poor Miss Birch died of the +scarlet fever, was Miss Pinkerton known to write personally to the +parents of her pupils. + +In the present instance Miss Pinkerton's "billet" was to the following +effect:-- + + _The Mall, Chiswick, June 15._ + + MADAM: + + After her six years' residence at the Mall, I have the honor and + happiness of presenting Miss Amelia Sedley to her parents, as a + young lady not unworthy to occupy a fitting position in their + polished and refined circle. Those virtues which characterize the + young English gentlewomen; those accomplishments which become her + birth and station, will not be found wanting in the amiable Miss + Sedley, whose industry and obedience have endeared her to her + instructors, and whose delightful sweetness of temper has charmed + her aged and her youthful companions. + + In music, dancing, in orthography, in every variety of embroidery + and needle-work she will be found to have realized her friends' + fondest wishes. In geography there is still much to be desired; and + a careful and undeviating use of the back-board, for four hours + daily during the next three years, is recommended as necessary to + the acquirement of that dignified deportment and carriage so + requisite for every young lady of fashion. + + In the principles of religion and morality, Miss Sedley will be + found worthy of an establishment which has been honored by the + presence of The Great Lexicographer and the patronage of the + admirable Mrs. Chapone. In leaving them all, Miss Amelia carries + with her the hearts of her companions and the affectionate regards + of her mistress, who has the honor to subscribe herself, + + Madam your most obliged humble servant, + + BARBARA PINKERTON. + + P.S.--Miss Sharp accompanies Miss Sedley. It is particularly + requested that Miss Sharp's stay in Russell Square may not exceed + ten days. The family of distinction with whom she is engaged as + governess desire to avail themselves of her services as soon as + possible. + +This letter completed, Miss Pinkerton proceeded to write her own name +and Miss Sedley's in the flyleaf of a Johnson's Dictionary, the +interesting work which she invariably presented to her scholars on their +departure from the Mall. On the cover was inserted a copy of "Lines +addressed to a Young Lady on quitting Miss Pinkerton's School, at the +Mall; by the late revered Dr. Samuel Johnson." In fact, the +Lexicographer's name was always on the lips of this majestic woman, and +a visit he had paid to her was the cause of her reputation and her +fortune. + +Being commanded by her elder sister to get "The Dixonary" from the +cupboard, Miss Jemima had extracted two copies of the book from the +receptacle in question. When Miss Pinkerton had finished the inscription +in the first, Jemima, with rather a dubious and timid air, handed her +the second. + +"For whom is this, Miss Jemima?" said Miss Pinkerton with awful +coldness. + +"For Becky Sharp," answered Jemima, trembling very much, and blushing +over her withered face and neck, as she turned her back on her sister. +"For Becky Sharp. She's going, too." + +"MISS JEMIMA!" exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, in the largest capitals. "Are +you in your senses? Replace the Dixonary in the closet, and never +venture to take such a liberty in future." + +With an unusual display of courage, Miss Jemima mildly protested: "Well, +sister, it's only two and nine-pence, and poor Becky will be miserable +if she doesn't get one." + +"Send Miss Sedley instantly to me," was Miss Pinkerton's only answer. +And, venturing not to say another word, poor Jemima trotted off, +exceedingly flurried and nervous, while the two pupils, Miss Sedley and +Miss Sharp, were making final preparations for their departure for Miss +Sedley's home. + + +III + +Well, then. The flowers, and the presents, and the trunks, and the +bonnet boxes of Miss Sedley having been arranged by Mr. Sambo in the +carriage, together with a very small and weather-beaten old cowskin +trunk with Miss Sharp's card neatly nailed upon it, which was delivered +by Sambo with a grin, and packed by the coachman with a corresponding +sneer, the hour for parting came; and the grief of that moment was +considerably lessened by the admirable discourse which Miss Pinkerton +addressed to her pupil. + +Not that the parting speech caused Amelia to philosophize, or that it +armed her in any way with a calmness, the result of argument; but it was +intolerably dull, and having the fear of her schoolmistress greatly +before her eyes, Miss Sedley did not venture, in her presence, to give +way to any ablutions of private grief. A seed cake and a bottle of wine +were produced in the drawing room, as on the solemn occasions of the +visits of parents; and these refreshments being partaken of, Miss Sedley +was at liberty to depart. + +"You'll go in and say good-by to Miss Pinkerton, Becky!" said Miss +Jemima to that young lady, of whom nobody took any notice, and who was +coming downstairs with her own bandbox. + +"I suppose I must," said Miss Sharp calmly, and much to the wonder of +Miss Jemima; and the latter having knocked at the door, and receiving +permission to come in, Miss Sharp advanced in a very unconcerned manner, +and said in French, and with a perfect accent, "_Mademoiselle, je viens +vous faire mes adieux_."[4] + +Miss Pinkerton did not understand French, as we know; she only directed +those who did. Biting her lips and throwing up her venerable and +Roman-nosed head, she said, "Miss Sharp, I wish you a good morning." + +As she spoke, she waved one hand, both by way of adieu and to give Miss +Sharp an opportunity of shaking one of the fingers of the hand, which +was left out for that purpose. Miss Sharp only folded her own hands with +a very frigid smile and bow, and quite declined to accept the proffered +honor; on which Miss Pinkerton tossed up her turban more indignantly +than ever. In fact, it was a little battle between the young lady and +the old one, and the latter was worsted. + +"Come away, Becky," said Miss Jemima, pulling the young woman away in +great alarm; and the drawing room door closed upon her forever. + +[Illustration: The Parting.] + +Then came the struggle and parting below. Words refuse to tell it. All +the servants were there in the hall--all the dear friends--all the young +ladies--even the dancing master, who had just arrived; and there was +such a scuffling and hugging, and kissing, and crying, with the +hysterical _yoops_ of Miss Schwartz, the parlor boarder, as no pen can +depict, and as the tender heart would feign pass over. + +The embracing was finished; they parted--that is, Miss Sedley parted +from her friends. Miss Sharp had demurely entered the carriage some +minutes before. Nobody cried for leaving _her_. + +Sambo of the bandy legs slammed the carriage door on his young weeping +mistress. He sprang up behind the carriage. + +"Stop!" cried Miss Jemima, rushing to the gate with a parcel. + +"It's some sandwiches, my dear," she called to Amelia. "You may be +hungry, you know; and, Becky--Becky Sharp--here's a book for you, that +my sister--that is, I--Johnson's Dixonary, you know. You mustn't leave +us without that. Good-by! Drive on, coachman!--God bless you! Good-by." + +Then the kind creature retreated into the garden, overcome with emotion. + +But lo! and just as the coach drove off, Miss Sharp suddenly put her +pale face out of the window, and flung the book back into the +garden--flung it far and fast--watching it fall at the feet of +astonished Miss Jemima; then sank back in the carriage, exclaiming, "So +much for the 'Dixonary'; and thank God I'm out of Chiswick!" + +The shock of such an act almost caused Jemima to faint with terror. + +"Well, I never--" she began. "What an audacious--" she gasped. Emotion +prevented her from completing either sentence. + +The carriage rolled away; the great gates were closed; the bell rang for +the dancing lesson. The world is before the two young ladies; and so, +farewell to Chiswick Mall! + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 3: From "Vanity Fair," by William Makepeace Thackeray.] + +[Footnote 4: "Madam, I have come to tell you good-by."] + + EXPRESSION: By many able critics, Thackeray is regarded as a + greater novelist than either Dickens or George Eliot. Compare this + extract from one of his best works with the two selections which + precede it. Which of the three stories is the most interesting to + you? Which sounds the best when read aloud? Which is the most + humorous? Which is the most pathetic? + + Reread the three selections very carefully. Now tell what you + observe about the style of each. In what respects is the style of + the third story different from that of either of the others? Reread + Miss Pinkerton's letter. What peculiarities do you observe in it? + Select and reread the most humorous passage in this last story. + + + + +TWO GEMS FROM BROWNING + + +I. INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP + +In the small kingdom of Bavaria, on the south bank of the Danube River, +there is a famous old city called Ratisbon. It is not a very large city, +but its history can be traced far back to the time when the Romans had a +military camp there which they used as an outpost against the German +barbarians. At one time it ranked among the most flourishing towns of +Germany. + +It is now of little commercial importance--a quaint and quiet old place, +with a fine cathedral and many notable buildings which testify to its +former greatness. + +During the earlier years of the nineteenth century, Napoleon Bonaparte, +emperor of the French, was engaged in bitter warfare with Austria and +indeed with nearly the whole of Europe. In April, 1809, the Austrian +army, under Grand Duke Charles, was intrenched in Ratisbon and the +neighboring towns. There it was attacked by the French army commanded by +Napoleon himself and led by the brave Marshal Lannes, Duke of +Montebello. + +The battle raged, first on this side of the city, then on that, and for +several days no one could tell which of the combatants would be +victorious. At length Napoleon decided to end the matter by storming the +city and, if possible, driving the archduke from his stronghold. He, +therefore, sent Marshal Lannes forward to direct the battle, while he +watched the conflict and gave commands from a distance. For a long time +the issue seemed doubtful, and not even Napoleon could guess what the +result would be. Late in the day, however, French valor prevailed, the +Austrians were routed, and Marshal Lannes forced his way into the city. + +It was at this time that the incident described so touchingly in the +following poem by Robert Browning is supposed to have taken place. We do +not know, nor does any one know, whether the story has any foundation in +fact. It illustrates, however, the spirit of bravery and self-sacrifice +that prevailed among the soldiers of Napoleon; and such an incident +might, indeed, have happened not only at Ratisbon, but at almost any +place where the emperor's presence urged his troops to victory. For, +such was Napoleon's magic influence and such was the love which he +inspired among all his followers, that thousands of young men were ready +cheerfully to give their lives for the promotion of his selfish +ambition. + +The poem, which is now regarded as one of the classics of our language, +was first published in 1843, in a small volume entitled "Dramatic +Lyrics." The same volume contained the well-known rime of "The Pied +Piper of Hamelin." Robert Browning was at that time a young man of +thirty, and most of the poems which afterwards made him famous were +still unwritten. + + +BROWNING'S POEM + + You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: + A mile or so away, + On a little mound, Napoleon + Stood on our storming day: + With neck outthrust, 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 hardly 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. + +[Illustration: "We've got you Ratisbon!"] + + "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 chiefs 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. + + EXPRESSION: This is a difficult selection to read properly and with + spirit and feeling. Study each stanza until you understand it + thoroughly. Practice reading the following passages, giving the + proper emphasis and inflections. + + _You know, we French stormed Ratisbon. + With neck outthrust you fancy how. + "We've got you Ratisbon!" + "You're wounded!" "Nay, I'm killed, Sire!"_ + + WORD STUDY: _Napoleon_, _Ratisbon_, _Bavaria_, _Lannes_; _anon_, + _vans_, _sheathes_, _eaglet_, _Sire_. + + Explain: "_To see your flag bird flap his vans._" "_His plans + soared up again like fire._" + +[Illustration] + + +II. DOG TRAY[5] + + A beggar child + Sat on a quay's edge: like a bird + Sang to herself at careless play, + And fell into the stream. "Dismay! + Help, you standers-by!" None stirred. + + Bystanders reason, think of wives + And children ere they risk their lives. + Over the balustrade has bounced + A mere instinctive dog, and pounced + Plumb on the prize. "How well he dives!" + + "Up he comes with the child, see, tight + In mouth, alive, too, clutched from quite + A depth of ten feet--twelve, I bet! + Good dog! What, off again? There's yet + Another child to save? All right!" + + "How strange we saw no other fall! + It's instinct in the animal. + Good dog! But he's a long time under: + If he got drowned, I should not wonder-- + Strong current, that against the wall! + + "Here he comes, holds in mouth this time + --What may the thing be? Well, that's prime! + Now, did you ever? Reason reigns + In man alone, since all Tray's pains + Have fished--the child's doll from the slime!" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 5: By Robert Browning.] + + EXPRESSION: Read the story silently, being sure that you understand + it clearly. Then read each passage aloud, giving special attention + to emphasis and inflections. Answer these questions by reading from + the poem: + + Where was the child? What did she do? + What did some one cry out? + Why did not the bystanders help? + What did the dog do? + What did one bystander say? + What did another say when the dog came up? + What did he say when the dog went back? + + Read correctly: "_Well, that's prime!_" "_Now, did you ever?_" + "_All right!_" "_If he got drowned, I should not wonder._" + + In what respects do these two poems differ from your favorite poems + by Longfellow or Tennyson? Do you think there is much music in + them? + + + + +THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA[6] + + +It was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, that Columbus first +beheld the New World. As the day dawned he saw before him a level +island, several leagues in extent, and covered with trees like a +continual orchard. Though apparently uncultivated, it was populous, for +the inhabitants were seen issuing from all parts of the woods and +running to the shore. They stood gazing at the ships, and appeared, by +their attitudes and gestures, to be lost in astonishment. + +Columbus made signal for the ships to cast anchor and the boats to be +manned and armed. He entered his own boat richly attired in scarlet and +holding the royal standard; while Martin Alonzo Pinzon and his brother +put off in company in their boats, each with a banner of the enterprise +emblazoned with a green cross, having on either side the letters F and +Y, the initials of the Castilian monarchs Fernando and Ysabel, +surmounted by crowns. + +As he approached the shore, Columbus, who was disposed for all kinds of +agreeable impressions, was delighted with the purity and suavity of the +atmosphere, the crystal transparency of the sea, and the extraordinary +beauty of the vegetation. He beheld also fruits of an unknown kind upon +the trees which overhung the shores. On landing he threw himself on his +knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks to God with tears of joy. + +His example was followed by the rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed +with the same feelings of gratitude. Columbus then rising drew his +sword, displayed the royal standard, and, assembling round him the two +captains and the rest who had landed, he took solemn possession in the +name of the Castilian sovereigns, giving the island the name of San +Salvador. Having complied with the requisite forms and ceremonies, he +called upon all present to take the oath of obedience to him as admiral +and viceroy, representing the persons of the sovereigns. + +The feelings of the crew now burst forth in the most extravagant +transports. They had recently considered themselves devoted men hurrying +forward to destruction; they now looked upon themselves as favorites of +fortune and gave themselves up to the most unbounded joy. They thronged +around the admiral with overflowing zeal, some embracing him, others +kissing his hands. + +Those who had been most mutinous and turbulent during the voyage were +now most devoted and enthusiastic. Some begged favors of him, as if he +had already wealth and honors in his gift. Many abject spirits, who had +outraged him by their insolence, now crouched at his feet, begging +pardon for all the trouble they had caused him and promising the +blindest obedience for the future. + +The natives of the island, when at the dawn of day they had beheld the +ships hovering on their coast, had supposed them monsters which had +issued from the deep during the night. They had crowded to the beach and +watched their movements with awful anxiety. Their veering about +apparently without effort, and the shifting and furling of their sails, +resembling huge wings, filled them with astonishment. When they beheld +their boats approach the shore, and a number of strange beings clad in +glittering steel, or raiment of various colors, landing upon the beach, +they fled in affright to the woods. + +Finding, however, that there was no attempt to pursue or molest them, +they gradually recovered from their terror and approached the Spaniards +with great awe, frequently prostrating themselves on the earth and +making signs of adoration. During the ceremonies of taking possession, +they remained gazing in timid admiration at the complexion, the beards, +the shining armor and splendid dress of the Spaniards. The admiral +particularly attracted their attention, from his commanding height, his +air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the deference which was paid +him by his companions; all which pointed him out to be the commander. + +When they had still further recovered from their fears, they approached +the Spaniards, touched their beards and examined their hands and faces, +admiring their whiteness. Columbus was pleased with their gentleness and +confiding simplicity, and soon won them by his kindly bearing. They now +supposed that the ships had sailed out of the crystal firmament which +bounded their horizon, or had descended from above on their ample wings, +and that these marvelous beings were inhabitants of the skies. + +The natives of the island were no less objects of curiosity to the +Spaniards, differing as they did from any race of men they had ever +seen. Their appearance gave no promise of either wealth or civilization, +for they were entirely naked and painted with a variety of colors. With +some it was confined merely to a part of the face, the nose, or around +the eyes; with others it extended to the whole body and gave them a wild +and fantastic appearance. + +Their complexion was of a tawny, or copper hue, and they were entirely +destitute of beards. Their hair was not crisped, like the recently +discovered tribes of the African coast, under the same latitude, but +straight and coarse, partly cut short above the ears, but some locks +were left long behind and falling upon their shoulders. Their features, +though obscured and disfigured by paint, were agreeable; they had lofty +foreheads and remarkably fine eyes. They were of moderate stature and +well shaped. + +As Columbus supposed himself to have landed on an island at the +extremity of India, he called the natives by the general name of +Indians, which was universally adopted before the true nature of his +discovery was known, and has since been extended to all the aboriginals +of the New World. + +The islanders were friendly and gentle. Their only arms were lances, +hardened at the end by fire, or pointed with a flint, or the teeth or +bone of a fish. There was no iron to be seen, nor did they appear +acquainted with its properties; for, when a drawn sword was presented to +them, they unguardedly took it by the edge. + +Columbus distributed among them colored caps, glass beads, hawks' bells +and other trifles, such as the Portuguese were accustomed to trade with +among the nations of the gold coast of Africa. They received them +eagerly, hung the beads round their necks, and were wonderfully pleased +with their finery, and with the sound of the bells. The Spaniards +remained all day on shore refreshing themselves, after their anxious +voyage, amid the beautiful groves of the island, and returned on board +late in the evening, delighted with all they had seen. + +The island where Columbus had thus, for the first time, set his foot +upon the New World, was called by the natives Guanahane. It still +retains the name of San Salvador, which he gave to it, though called by +the English Cat Island. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 6: From "The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus," by +Washington Irving.] + + + + +THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS[7] + + + King Francis was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, + And one day as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; + The nobles filled the benches, with the ladies in their pride, + And 'mong them sat the Count de Lorge with one for whom he sighed: + And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, + Valor, and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. + + Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; + They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their + paws; + With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another, + Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thundrous smother; + The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air; + Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there." + +[Illustration: The Glove and the Lions.] + + 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 brave as brave can be; + He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me; + King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine; + I'll drop my glove, to prove his love; great glory will be mine." + + She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled; + He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild: + His leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place, + Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. + "Well done!" cried Francis, "bravely done!" and he rose from where he + sat: + "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 7: By Leigh Hunt, an English essayist and poet (1784-1859).] + + EXPRESSION: Read this poem silently, trying to understand fully the + circumstances of the story: (1) the time; (2) the place; (3) the + character of the leading actors. Then read aloud each stanza with + feeling and expression. + + + + +ST. FRANCIS, THE GENTLE[8] + + +Seven hundred years ago, Francis the gentlest of the saints was born in +Assisi, the quaint Umbrian town among the rocks; and for twenty years +and more he cherished but one thought, and one desire, and one hope; and +these were that he might lead the beautiful and holy and sorrowful life +which our Master lived on earth, and that in every way he might resemble +Him in the purity and loveliness of his humanity. + +Not to men alone but to all living things on earth and air and water was +St. Francis most gracious and loving. They were all his little brothers +and sisters, and he forgot them not, still less scorned or slighted +them, but spoke to them often and blessed them, and in return they +showed him great love and sought to be of his fellowship. He bade his +companions keep plots of ground for their little sisters the flowers, +and to these lovely and speechless creatures he spoke, with no great +fear that they would not understand his words. And all this was a +marvelous thing in a cruel time, when human life was accounted of slight +worth by fierce barons and ruffling marauders. + +For the bees he set honey and wine in the winter, lest they should feel +the nip of the cold too keenly; and bread for the birds, that they all, +but especially "my brother Lark," should have joy of Christmastide, and +at Rieti a brood of redbreasts were the guests of the house and raided +the tables while the brethren were at meals; and when a youth gave St. +Francis the turtledoves he had snared, the Saint had nests made for +them, and there they laid their eggs and hatched them, and fed from the +hands of the brethren. + +Out of affection a fisherman once gave him a great tench, but he put it +back into the clear water of the lake, bidding it love God; and the fish +played about the boat till St. Francis blessed it and bade it go. + +"Why dost thou torment my little brothers the Lambs," he asked of a +shepherd, "carrying them bound thus and hanging from a staff, so that +they cry piteously?" And in exchange for the lambs he gave the shepherd +his cloak. And at another time seeing amid a flock of goats one white +lamb feeding, he was concerned that he had nothing but his brown robe to +offer for it (for it reminded him of our Lord among the Pharisees); but +a merchant came up and paid for it and gave it him, and he took it with +him to the city and preached about it so that the hearts of those +hearing him were melted. Afterwards the lamb was left in the care of a +convent of holy women, and to the Saint's great delight, these wove him +a gown of the lamb's innocent wool. + +Fain would I tell of the coneys that took refuge in the folds of his +habit, and of the swifts which flew screaming in their glee while he was +preaching; but now it is time to speak of the sermon which he preached +to a great multitude of birds in a field by the roadside, when he was on +his way to Bevagno. Down from the trees flew the birds to hear him, and +they nestled in the grassy bosom of the field, and listened till he had +done. And these were the words he spoke to them:-- + +"Little birds, little sisters mine, much are you holden to God your +Creator; and at all times and in every place you ought to praise Him. +Freedom He has given you to fly everywhere; and raiment He has given +you, double and threefold. More than this, He preserved your kind in the +Ark, so that your race might not come to an end. Still more do you owe +Him for the element of air, which He has made your portion. Over and +above, you sow not, neither do you reap; but God feeds you, and gives +you streams and springs for your thirst; the mountains He gives you, and +the valleys for your refuge, and the tall trees wherein to build your +nests. And because you cannot sew or spin, God takes thought to clothe +you, you and your little ones. It must be, then, that your Creator loves +you much, since He has granted you so many benefits. Be on your guard +then against the sin of ingratitude, and strive always to give God +praise." + +And when the Saint ceased speaking, the birds made such signs as they +might, by spreading their wings and opening their beaks, to show their +love and pleasure; and when he had blessed them with the sign of the +cross, they sprang up, and singing songs of unspeakable sweetness, away +they streamed in a great cross to the four quarters of heaven. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 8: By William Canton, an English journalist and poet (1845- ).] + + + + +THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS[9] + + + Up soared the lark into the air, + A shaft of song, a winged prayer, + As if a soul, released from pain, + Were flying back to heaven again. + + St. Francis heard; it was to him + An emblem of the Seraphim; + The upward motion of the fire, + The light, the heat, the heart's desire. + + Around Assisi's convent gate + The birds, God's poor who cannot wait, + From moor and mere and darksome wood, + Came flocking for their dole of food. + + "O brother birds," St. Francis said, + "Ye come to me and ask for bread, + But not with bread alone to-day + Shall ye be fed and sent away. + + "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds, + With manna of celestial words; + Not mine, though mine they seem to be, + Not mine, though they be spoken through me. + + "Oh, doubly are ye bound to praise + The great creator in your lays; + He giveth you your plumes of down, + Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown. + + "He giveth you your wings to fly + And breathe a purer air on high, + And careth for you everywhere + Who for yourselves so little care." + + With flutter of swift wings and songs + Together rose the feathered throngs + And, singing, scattered far apart; + Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart. + + He knew not if the brotherhood + His homily had understood; + He only knew that to one ear + The meaning of his words was clear. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 9: By Henry W. Longfellow.] + + EXPRESSION: Talk with your teacher about the life, work, and + influence of St. Francis. Refer to cyclopedias for information. + Read aloud the prose version of his sermon to the birds; the + poetical version. Compare the two versions. What is said in one + that is not said in the other? + + + + +IN THE WOODS[10] + + +Years ago, when quite a youth, I was rambling in the woods one day with +my brothers, gathering black birch and wintergreens. + +As we lay upon the ground, gazing vaguely up into the trees, I caught +sight of a bird, the like of which I had never before seen or heard of. +It was the blue yellow-backed warbler, which I have found since; but to +my young fancy it seemed like some fairy bird, so curiously marked was +it, and so new and unexpected. I saw it a moment as the flickering +leaves parted, noted the white spot on its wing, and it was gone. + +It was a revelation. It was the first intimation I had had that the +woods we knew so well held birds that we knew not at all. Were our eyes +and ears so dull? Did we pass by the beautiful things in nature without +seeing them? Had we been blind then? There were the robin, the bluejay, +the yellowbird, and others familiar to every one; but who ever dreamed +that there were still others that not even the hunters saw, and whose +names few had ever heard? + +The surprise that awaits every close observer of birds, the thrill of +delight that accompanies it, and the feeling of fresh eager inquiry that +follows can hardly be awakened by any other pursuit. + +There is a fascination about it quite overpowering. + +It fits so well with other things--with fishing, hunting, farming, +walking, camping out--with all that takes one to the fields and the +woods. One may go blackberrying and make some rare discovery; or, while +driving his cow to pasture, hear a new song, or make a new observation. +Secrets lurk on all sides. There is news in every bush. Expectation is +ever on tiptoe. What no man ever saw may the next moment be revealed to +you. + +What a new interest this gives to the woods! How you long to explore +every nook and corner of them! One must taste it to understand. The +looker-on sees nothing to make such a fuss about. Only a little glimpse +of feathers and a half-musical note or two--why all this ado? It is not +the mere knowledge of birds that you get, but a new interest in the +fields and woods, the air, the sunshine, the healing fragrance and +coolness, and the getting away from the worry of life. + +Yesterday was an October day of rare brightness and warmth. I spent the +most of it in a wild, wooded gorge of Rock Creek. A tree which stood +upon the bank had dropped some of its fruit in the water. As I stood +there, half-leg deep, a wood duck came flying down the creek. + +Presently it returned, flying up; then it came back again, and sweeping +low around a bend, prepared to alight in a still, dark reach in the +creek which was hidden from my view. As I passed that way about half an +hour afterward, the duck started up, uttering its wild alarm note. In +the stillness I could hear the whistle of its wings and the splash of +the water when it took flight. Near by I saw where a raccoon had come +down to the water for fresh clams, leaving its long, sharp track in the +mud and sand. Before I had passed this hidden stretch of water, a pair +of strange thrushes flew up from the ground and perched on a low branch. + +Who can tell how much this duck, this footprint on the sand, and these +strange thrushes from the far North enhanced the interest and charm of +the autumn woods? + +Birds cannot be learned satisfactorily from books. The satisfaction is +in learning them from nature. One must have an original experience with +the birds. The books are only the guide, the invitation. But let me say +in the same breath that the books can by no manner of means be dispensed +with. + +In the beginning one finds it very difficult to identify a bird in any +verbal description. First find your bird; observe its ways, its song, +its calls, its flight, its haunts. Then compare with your book. In this +way the feathered kingdom may soon be conquered. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 10: By John Burroughs, an American writer on nature (1837- ).] + + EXPRESSION: This and the selection which follows are fine examples + of descriptive writing. Read them so that your hearers will + understand every statement clearly and without special effort on + their part. Talk about the various objects that are mentioned, and + tell what you have learned about them from other sources. + + + + +BEES AND FLOWERS[11] + + +Fancy yourself to be in a pretty country garden on a hot summer's +morning. Perhaps you have been walking, or reading, or playing, but it +is getting too hot now to do anything. So you have chosen the shadiest +nook under the walnut tree, close to some pretty flower bed. + +As you lie there you notice a gentle buzzing near you, and you see that +on the flower bed close by several bees are working busily among the +flowers. They do not seem to mind the heat, nor do they wish to rest; +and they fly so lightly, and look so happy over their work, that it is +pleasant to watch them. + +That great bumblebee takes it leisurely enough as she goes lumbering +along, poking her head into the larkspurs; she remains so long in each +that you might almost think she had fallen asleep. The brown hive-bee, +on the other hand, moves busily and quickly among the stocks, sweet +peas, and mignonette. She is evidently out on active duty, and means to +get all she can from each flower, so as to carry a good load back to the +hive. In some blossoms she does not stay a moment, but draws her head +back almost as soon as she has popped it in, as if to say, "No honey +there." But over other flowers she lingers a little, and then scrambles +out again with her drop of honey, and goes off to seek more. + +Let us watch her a little more closely. There are many different plants +growing in the flower bed, but, curiously enough, she does not go first +to one kind and then to another, but keeps to one the whole time. + +Now she flies away. Rouse yourself to follow her, and you will see she +takes her way back to the hive. We all know why she makes so many +journeys between the garden and the hive, and that she is collecting +drops of nectar from the flowers and carrying it to the hive to be +stored up in the honeycomb for the winter's food. When she comes back +again to the garden, we will follow her in her work among the flowers, +and see what she is doing for them in return for their gifts to her. + +No doubt you have already learned that plants can make better and +stronger seeds when they can get the pollen dust from other plants. But +I am sure that you will be very much surprised to hear that the colors, +the scent, and the curious shapes of the flowers are all so many baits +to attract insects. And for what reason? In order that the insects may +come and carry the pollen dust from one plant to another. + +So far as we know, it is entirely for this purpose that the plants form +honey in different parts of the flower. This food they prepare for the +insects, and then they have all sorts of contrivances to entice the +little creatures to come and get it. The plants hang out gay-colored +signs, as much as to say:-- + +"Come to me, and I will give you honey, if you will bring me pollen dust +in exchange." + +If you watch the different kinds of grasses, sedges, and rushes, which +have such tiny flowers that you can scarcely see them, you will find +that no insects visit them. Neither will you ever find bees buzzing +round oak trees, elms, or birches. But on the pretty and sweet-smelling +apple blossoms you will find bees, wasps, and other insects. + +The reason of this is that grasses, sedges, rushes, and oak trees have a +great deal of pollen dust. As the wind blows them to and fro it wafts +the dust from one flower to another. And so these plants do not need to +give out honey, or to have gaudy or sweet-scented flowers to attract +insects. + +But the brilliant poppy, the large-flowered hollyhock, the flaunting +dandelion, and the bright blue forget-me-not,--all these are visited by +insects, which easily catch sight of them and hasten to sip their honey. + +We must not forget what the fragrance of the flowers can do. Have you +ever noticed the delicious odor which comes from beds of mignonette, +mint, or sweet alyssum? These plants have found another way of +attracting the insects; they have no need of bright colors, for their +fragrance is quite as true and certain a guide. You will be surprised if +you once begin to count them up, how many dull-looking flowers are +sweet-scented, while some gaudy flowers have little or no scent. Still +we find some flowers, like the beautiful lily, the lovely rose, and the +delicate hyacinth, which have color and fragrance and graceful shapes +all combined. + +But there are still other ways by which flowers secure the visits of +insects. Have you not observed that different flowers open and close at +different times? The daisy receives its name "day's eye" because it +opens at sunrise and closes at sunset, while the evening primrose +spreads out its flowers just as the daisy is going to bed. + +What do you think is the reason of this? If you go near a bed of evening +primroses just when the sun is setting, you will soon be able to guess. +They will then give out such a sweet odor that you will not doubt for a +moment that they are calling the evening moths to come and visit them. +The daisy, however, opens by day and is therefore visited by day +insects. + +Again, some flowers close whenever rain is coming. Look at the daisies +when a storm is threatening. As the sky grows dark and heavy, you will +see them shrink and close till the sun shines again. They do this +because in the center of the flower there is a drop of honey which would +be spoiled if it were washed by the rain. + +And now you will see why the cup-shaped flowers so often droop their +heads,--think of the snowdrop, the lily-of-the-valley, and a host of +others. How pretty they look with their bells hanging so modestly from +the slender stalk! They are bending down to protect the honey within +their cups. + +We are gradually learning that everything which a plant does has its +meaning, if we can only find it out. And when we are aware of this, a +flower garden may become a new world to us if we open our eyes to all +that is going on in it. And so we learn that even among insects and +flowers, those who do most for others receive most in return. The bee +and the flower do not reason about the matter; they only live their +little lives as nature guides them, helping and improving each other. + +I have been able to tell you but very little about the hidden work that +is going on around us, and you must not for a moment imagine that we +have fully explored the fairy land of nature. But at least we have +passed through the gates, and have learned that there is a world of +wonder which we may visit if we will. And it lies quite close to us, +hidden in every dewdrop and gust of wind, in every brook and valley, in +every little plant and animal. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 11: From "The Fairy Land of Nature," by Arabella B. Buckley.] + + EXPRESSION: Make a list of all the natural objects that are + mentioned in this selection. Read what is said of each. Describe as + many of them as you can in your own words. Tell what you have + observed about bees and flowers. The daisy that is referred to is + the true European daisy. The daisy, or whiteweed, of the United + States does not open and close in the manner here described. + + + + +SONG OF THE RIVER[12] + + + A river went singing a-down to the sea, + A-singing--low--singing-- + And the dim rippling river said softly to me, + "I'm bringing, a-bringing-- + While floating along-- + A beautiful song + To the shores that are white where the waves are so weary, + To the beach that is burdened with wrecks that are dreary. + + "A song sweet and calm + As the peacefullest psalm; + And the shore that was sad + Will be grateful and glad, + And the weariest wave from its dreariest dream + Will wake to the sound of the song of the stream; + And the tempests shall cease + And there shall be peace." + From the fairest of fountains + And farthest of mountains, + From the stillness of snow + Came the stream in its flow. + + Down the slopes where the rocks are gray, + Through the vales where the flowers are fair-- + + Where the sunlight flashed--where the shadows lay + Like stories that cloud a face of care, + The river ran on--and on--and on, + Day and night, and night and day. + Going and going, and never gone, + Longing to flow to the "far away." + Staying and staying, and never still,-- + Going and staying, as if one will + Said, "Beautiful river, go to the sea," + And another will whispered, "Stay with me"-- + And the river made answer, soft and low, + "I go and stay--I stay and go." + + "But what is the song?" I said at last + To the passing river that never passed; + And a white, white wave whispered, "List to me, + I'm a note in the song for the beautiful sea, + A song whose grand accents no earth din may sever, + And the river flows on in the same mystic key + That blends in one chord the 'forever and never.'" + +[Footnote 12: By Abram J. Ryan, an American clergyman and poet.] + + EXPRESSION: Read aloud the three lines which introduce the song of + the river. Read them in such a manner as to call up a mental + picture of the river on its way to the sea. Read the first five + lines of the third stanza in a similar way, and tell what picture + is now called up in your mind. Now read the river's song. Read what + the white wave said. Read the whole poem with spirit and feeling. + + Notice the words "a-down," "a-singing," "a-bringing." What effect + is produced by the use of these unusual forms? + + + + +SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE[13] + + + Out of the hills of Habersham, + Down the valleys of Hall, + I hurry amain to reach the plain, + Run the rapid and leap the fall, + Split at the rock and together again, + Accept my bed or narrow or wide, + And flee from folly on every side + With a lover's pain to attain the plain + Far from the hills of Habersham, + Far from the valleys of Hall. + + All down the hills of Habersham, + All through the valleys of Hall, + The rushes cried, "Abide, abide," + The willful waterweeds held me thrall, + The loving laurel turned my tide, + The ferns and the fondling grass said, "Stay," + The dewberry dipped for to work delay, + And the little reeds sighed, "Abide, abide," + Here in the hills of Habersham, + Here in the valleys of Hall. + + High o'er the hills of Habersham, + Veiling the valleys of Hall, + The hickory told me manifold + Fair tales of shade; the poplar tall + Wrought me her shadowy self to hold; + The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, + Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, + Said, "Pass not so cold, these manifold + Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, + These glades in the valleys of Hall." + + And oft in the hills of Habersham, + And oft in the valleys of Hall, + The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook stone + Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl; + And many a luminous jewel lone + (Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist, + Ruby, garnet, or amethyst) + Made lures with the lights of streaming stone + In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, + In the beds of the valleys of Hall. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 13: By Sidney Lanier, an American musician and poet +(1842-1881). From the _Poems of Sidney Lanier_, published by Charles +Scribner's Sons.] + + EXPRESSION: Compare this poem with the one which precedes it. + Compare them both with Tennyson's "Song of the Brook" ("Fifth + Reader," p. 249). Which is the most musical? Which is the best + simply as a description? + + Make a list of the unusual words in this last poem, and refer to + the dictionary for their meaning. In what state is the + Chattahoochee River? "Habersham" and "Hall" are the names of two + counties in the same state. + + If you have access to a library, find Southey's poem, "The Cataract + of Lodore," and read it aloud. + + + + +WAR AND PEACE + + +I. WAR AS THE MOTHER OF VALOR AND CIVILIZATION[14] + +We still hear war extolled at times as the mother of valor and the prime +agency in the world's advancement. By it, we are told, civilization has +spread and nations have been created, slavery has been abolished and the +American Union preserved. It is even held that without war human +progress would have been impossible. + +The answer: Men were at first savages who preyed upon each other like +wild beasts, and so they developed a physical courage which they shared +with the brutes. Moral courage was unknown to them. War was almost their +sole occupation. Peace existed only for short periods that tribes might +regain strength to resume the sacred duty of killing each other. + +Advancement in civilization was impossible while war reigned. Only as +wars became less frequent and long intervals of peace supervened could +civilization, the mother of true heroism, take root. Civilization has +advanced just as war has receded, until in our day peace has become the +rule and war the exception. + +Arbitration of international disputes grows more and more in favor. +Successive generations of men now live and die without seeing war; and +instead of the army and navy furnishing the only careers worthy of +gentlemen, it is with difficulty that civilized nations can to-day +obtain a sufficient supply of either officers or men. + +In the past, man's only method for removing obstacles and attaining +desired ends was to use brute courage. The advance of civilization has +developed moral courage. We use more beneficent means than men did of +old. Britain in the eighteenth century used force to prevent American +independence. In more recent times she graciously grants Canada the +rights denied America. + +The United States also receives an award of the powers against China, +and, finding it in excess of her expenditures, in the spirit of newer +time, returns ten million dollars. Won by this act of justice, China +devotes the sum to the education of Chinese students in the republic's +universities. The greatest force is no longer that of brutal war, but +the supreme force of gentlemen and generosity--the golden rule. + +The pen is rapidly superseding the sword. Arbitration is banishing war. +More than five hundred international disputes have already been +peacefully settled. Civilization, not barbarism, is the mother of true +heroism. Our lately departed poet and disciple of peace, Richard Watson +Gilder, has left us the answer to the false idea that brute force +employed against our fellows ranks with heroic moral courage exerted to +save or serve them:-- + + 'Twas said: "When roll of drum and battle's roar + Shall cease upon the earth, oh, then no more + The deed, the race, of heroes in the land." + But scarce that word was breathed when one small hand + Lifted victorious o'er a giant wrong + That had its victims crushed through ages long; + Some woman set her pale and quivering face, + Firm as a rock, against a man's disgrace; + A little child suffered in silence lest + His savage pain should wound a mother's breast; + Some quiet scholar flung his gauntlet down + And risked, in Truth's great name, the synod's frown; + A civic hero, in the calm realm of laws, + Did that which suddenly drew a world's applause; + And one to the pest his lithe young body gave + That he a thousand thousand lives might save. + +On the field of carnage men lose all human instincts in the struggle to +protect themselves. The true heroism inspired by moral courage prompts +firemen, policemen, sailors, miners, and others to volunteer and risk +their lives to save the lives of their fellowmen. Such heroism is now of +everyday occurrence. + +In our age there is no more reason for permitting war between civilized +nations than for relaxing the reign of law within nations, which compels +men to submit their personal disputes to peaceful courts, and never +dreams that by so doing they will be made less heroic.... + +When war ceases, the sense of human brotherhood will be strengthened and +"heroism" will no longer mean to kill, but only to serve or save our +fellows. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 14: By Andrew Carnegie, a Scottish-American manufacturer and +philanthropist (1837- ).] + + +II. FRIENDSHIP AMONG NATIONS[15] + +Let us suppose that four centuries ago some far-seeing prophet dared to +predict to the duchies composing the kingdom of France that the day +would come when they would no longer make war upon each other. Let us +suppose him saying:-- + +"You will have many disputes to settle, interests to contend for, +difficulties to resolve; but do you know what you will select instead of +armed men, instead of cavalry, and infantry, of cannon, lances, pikes, +and swords? + +"You will select, instead of all this destructive array, a small box of +wood, which you will term a ballot-box, and from what shall issue--what? +An assembly--an assembly in which you shall all live; an assembly which +shall be, as it were, the soul of all; a supreme and popular council, +which shall decide, judge, resolve everything; which shall say to each, +'Here terminates your right, there commences your duty: lay down your +arms!' + +"And in that day you will all have one common thought, common interests, +a common destiny; you will embrace each other, and recognize each other +as children of the same blood and of the same race; that day you shall +no longer be hostile tribes--you will be a people; you will be no longer +merely Burgundy, Normandy, Brittany, Provence--you will be France! +You will no longer make appeals to war; you will do so to civilization." + +If, at that period I speak of, some one had uttered these words, all men +would have cried out: "What a dreamer! what a dream! How little this +pretended prophet is acquainted with the human heart!" Yet time has gone +on and on, and we find that this dream has been realized. + +Well, then, at this moment we who are assembled here say to France, to +England, to Spain, to Italy, to Russia: "A day will come, when from your +hands also the arms they have grasped shall fall. A day will come, when +war shall appear as impossible, and will be as impossible, between Paris +and London, between St. Petersburg and Berlin, as it is now between +Rouen and Amiens, between Boston and Philadelphia. + +"A day will come, when you, France; you, Russia; you, Italy; you, +England; you, Germany; all of you nations of the continent, shall, +without losing your distinctive qualities and your glorious +individuality, be blended into a superior unity, and shall constitute an +European fraternity, just as Normandy, Brittany, Burgundy, Lorraine, +have been blended into France. A day will come when the only battle +field shall be the market open to commerce, and the mind open to new +ideas. A day will come when bullets and shells shall be replaced by +votes, by the universal suffrage of nations, by the arbitration of a +great sovereign senate. + +Nor is it necessary for four hundred years to pass away for that day to +come. We live in a period in which a year often suffices to do the work +of a century. + +Suppose that the people of Europe, instead of mistrusting each other, +entertaining jealousy of each other, hating each other, become fast +friends; suppose they say that before they are French or English or +German they are men, and that if nations form countries, human kind +forms a family. Suppose that the enormous sums spent in maintaining +armies should be spent in acts of mutual confidence. Suppose that the +millions that are lavished on hatred, were bestowed on love, given to +peace instead of war, given to labor, to intelligence, to industry, to +commerce, to navigation, to agriculture, to science, to art. + +If this enormous sum were expended in this manner, know you what would +happen? The face of the world would be changed. Isthmuses would be cut +through. Railroads would cover the continents; the merchant navy of the +globe would be increased a hundredfold. There would be nowhere barren +plains nor moors nor marshes. Cities would be found where now there are +only deserts. Asia would be rescued to civilization; Africa would be +rescued to man; abundance would gush forth on every side, from every +vein of the earth at the touch of man, like the living stream from the +rock beneath the rod of Moses. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 15: By Victor Hugo, a celebrated French writer (1802-1885).] + + +III. SOLDIER, REST[16] + + Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, + Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; + Dream of battled fields no more, + Days of danger, nights of waking. + In our isle's enchanted hall, + Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, + Fairy strains of music fall, + Every sense in slumber dewing. + Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, + Dream of fighting fields no more; + Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, + Morn of toil nor night of waking. + + No rude sound shall reach thine ear, + Armor's clang, or war steed champing, + Trump nor pibroch summon here + Mustering clan or squadron tramping. + Yet the lark's shrill fife may come + At the daybreak from the fallow, + And the bittern sound his drum, + Booming from the sedgy shallow. + Ruder sounds shall none be near, + Guards nor warders challenge here, + Here's no war steed's neigh and champing, + Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 16: By Sir Walter Scott, a Scottish novelist and poet +(1771-1832).] + + +IV. THE SOLDIER'S DREAM[17] + + Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lowered, + And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; + And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered, + The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. + + When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, + By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain; + At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, + And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. + + Methought from the battle field's dreadful array, + Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track; + 'Twas autumn, and sunshine arose on the way + To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. + + I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft + In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; + I heard my own mountain goats bleating aloft, + And knew the sweet strain that the corn reapers sung. + + Then pledged we the wine cup, and fondly I swore + From my home and my weeping friends never to part; + My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, + And my wife sobbed aloud in her fullness of heart. + + "Stay, stay with us--rest, thou art weary and worn;" + And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay; + But sorrow returned with the dawning of morn, + And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 17: By Thomas Campbell, a Scottish poet (1777-1844).] + + +V. HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE[18] + + 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 mold, + 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 Honor comes, a pilgrim gray, + To bless the turf that wraps their clay, + And Freedom shall awhile repair + To dwell a weeping hermit there. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 18: By William Collins, an English poet (1721-1759).] + + EXPRESSION: Which one of these three poems requires to be read with + most spirit and enthusiasm? Which is the most pathetic? Which is + the most musical? Which calls up the most pleasing mental pictures? + + Talk with your teacher about the three authors of these poems, and + learn all you can about their lives and writings. + + + + +EARLY TIMES IN NEW YORK.[19] + + +In those good old days of simplicity and sunshine, a passion for +cleanliness was the leading principle in domestic economy, and the +universal test of an able housewife. + +The front door was never opened, except for marriages, funerals, New +Year's Day, the festival of St. Nicholas, or some such great occasion. +It was ornamented with a gorgeous brass knocker, which was curiously +wrought,--sometimes in the device of a dog, and sometimes in that of a +lion's head,--and daily burnished with such religious zeal that it was +often worn out by the very precautions taken for its preservation. + +The whole house was constantly in a state of inundation, under the +discipline of mops and brooms and scrubbing brushes; and the good +housewives of those days were a kind of amphibious animal, delighting +exceedingly to be dabbling in water,--insomuch that an historian of the +day gravely tells us that many of his townswomen grew to have webbed +fingers, "like unto ducks." + +The grand parlor was the _sanctum sanctorum_, where the passion for +cleaning was indulged without control. No one was permitted to enter +this sacred apartment, except the mistress and her confidential maid, +who visited it once a week for the purpose of giving it a thorough +cleaning. On these occasions they always took the precaution of leaving +their shoes at the door, and entering devoutly in their stocking feet. + +After scrubbing the floor, sprinkling it with fine white sand,--which +was curiously stroked with a broom into angles and curves and +rhomboids,--after washing the windows, rubbing and polishing the +furniture, and putting a new branch of evergreens in the fireplace, the +windows were again closed to keep out the flies, and the room was kept +carefully locked, until the revolution of time brought round the weekly +cleaning day. + +As to the family, they always entered in at the gate, and generally +lived in the kitchen. To have seen a numerous household assembled round +the fire, one would have imagined that he was transported to those happy +days of primeval simplicity which float before our imaginations like +golden visions. + +The fireplaces were of a truly patriarchal magnitude, where the whole +family, old and young, master and servant, black and white,--nay, even +the very cat and dog,--enjoyed a community of privilege, and had each a +right to a corner. Here the old burgher would sit in perfect silence, +puffing his pipe, looking in the fire with half-shut eyes, and thinking +of nothing, for hours together; the good wife, on the opposite side, +would employ herself diligently in spinning yarn or knitting stockings. + +The young folks would crowd around the hearth, listening with breathless +attention to some old crone of a negro, who was the oracle of the +family, and who, perched like a raven in a corner of the chimney, would +croak forth, for a long winter afternoon, a string of incredible stories +about New England witches, grisly ghosts, and bloody encounters among +Indians. + +In those happy days, fashionable parties were generally confined to the +higher classes, or _noblesse_; that is to say, such as kept their own +cows, and drove their own wagons. The company usually assembled at three +o'clock, and went away about six, unless it was in winter time, when the +fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might reach +home before dark. + +The tea table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with +slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming in +gravy. The company seated round the genial board, evinced their +dexterity in launching their forks at the fattest pieces in this mighty +dish,--in much the same manner that sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, or +our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. + +Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple pies, or saucers full +of preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to boast an +enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat and called +doughnuts or _olykoeks_, a delicious kind of cake, at present little +known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families. + +The tea was served out of a majestic Delft teapot, ornamented with +paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending +pigs,--with boats sailing in the air, and houses built in the clouds, +and sundry other ingenious Dutch fancies. The beaux distinguished +themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot from a huge +copper teakettle. To sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid +beside each cup, and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with +great decorum; until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and +economic old lady, which was to suspend, by a string from the ceiling, a +large lump directly over the tea table, so that it could be swung from +mouth to mouth. + +At these primitive tea parties, the utmost propriety and dignity +prevailed,--no flirting nor coquetting; no romping of young ladies; no +self-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in +their pockets, nor amusing conceits and monkey divertisements of smart +young gentlemen, with no brains at all. + +On the contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in their +rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woolen stockings; nor ever +opened their lips, excepting to say "_Yah, Mynheer_," or "_Yah, yah, +Vrouw_," to any question that was asked them; behaving in all things +like decent, well-educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them +tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the blue +and white tiles with which the fireplaces were decorated; wherein sundry +passages of Scripture were piously portrayed. Tobit and his dog figured +to great advantage; Haman swung conspicuously on his gibbet; and Jonah +appeared most manfully leaping from the whale's mouth, like Harlequin +through a barrel of fire. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 19: From Diedrich Knickerbocker's, "History of New York," by +Washington Irving.] + + NOTES: More than two hundred and fifty years have passed since the + "good old days" described in this selection. New York in 1660 was a + small place. It was called New Amsterdam, and its inhabitants were + chiefly Dutch people from Holland. Knickerbocker's "History of New + York" gives a delightfully humorous account of those early times. + + The festival of St. Nicholas occurs on December 6, and with the + Dutch colonists was equivalent to our Christmas. + + WORD STUDY: _sanctum sanctorum_, a Latin expression meaning "holy + of holies," a most sacred place. + + _noblesse_, persons of high rank. + + _olykoeks_ (_[)o]l' y cooks_), doughnuts, or crullers. + + _Mynheer_ (_m[=i]n h[=a]r'_), sir, Mr. + + _Vrouw_ (_vrou_), madam, lady. + + _Tobit_, a pious man of ancient times whose story is related in + "The Book of Tobit." + + _Haman_ (_ha' man_), the prime minister of the king of Babylon, who + was hanged on a gibbet which he had prepared for another. See "The + Book of Esther." + + _Har' le quin_, a clown well known in Italian comedy. + + Look in the dictionary for: _gorgeous_, _rhomboids_, _primeval_, + _patriarchal_, _burgher_, _crone_, _porpoises_, _beverage_, + _divertisements_. + + + + +A WINTER EVENING IN OLD NEW ENGLAND + + + Shut in from all the world without, + We sat the clean-winged hearth about, + Content to let the north wind roar + In baffled rage at pane and door, + While the red logs before us beat + The frost line back with tropic heat; + And ever, when a louder blast + Shook beam and rafter as it passed, + The merrier up its roaring draft + The great throat of the chimney laughed. + + The house dog on his paws outspread + Laid to the fire his drowsy head, + The cat's dark silhouette on the wall + A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; + And, for the winter fireside meet, + Between the andirons' straddling feet + The mug of cider simmered slow, + And apples sputtered in a row. + And, close at hand, the basket stood + With nuts from brown October's woods. + + What matter how the night behaved? + What matter how the north wind raved? + Blow high, blow low, not all its snow + Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. + +[Illustration: A Winter Evening in Old New England.] + + + + +THE OLD-FASHIONED THANKSGIVING[20] + + +I do not know but it is that old New England holiday of Thanksgiving +which, for one of New England birth, has most of home associations tied +up with it, and most of gleeful memories. I know that they are very +present ones. + +We all knew when it was coming; we all loved turkey--not Turkey on the +map, for which we cared very little after we had once bounded it--by the +Black Sea on the east, and by something else on the other sides--but +basted turkey, brown turkey, stuffed turkey. Here was richness! + +We had scored off the days until we were sure, to a recitation mark, +when it was due--well into the end of November, when winds would be +blowing from the northwest, with great piles of dry leaves all down the +sides of the street and in the angles of pasture walls. + +I cannot for my life conceive why any one should upset the old order of +things by marking it down a fortnight earlier. A man in the country +wants his crops well in and housed before he is ready to gush out with a +round, outspoken Thanksgiving; but everybody knows, who knows anything +about it, that the purple tops and the cow-horn turnips are, nine times +in ten, left out till the latter days of November, and husking not half +over. + +We all knew, as I said, when it was coming. We had a stock of empty +flour barrels on Town-hill stuffed with leaves, and a big pole set in +the ground, and a battered tar barrel, with its bung chopped out, to put +on top of the pole. It was all to beat the last year's bonfire--and it +did. The country wagoners had made their little stoppages at the back +door. We knew what was to come of that. And if the old cook--a monstrous +fine woman, who weighed two hundred if she weighed a pound--was brusque +and wouldn't have us "round," we knew what was to come of that, too. +Such pies as hers demanded thoughtful consideration: not very large, and +baked in scalloped tins, and with such a relishy flavor to them, as on +my honor, I do not recognize in any pies of this generation.... + +The sermon on that Thanksgiving (and we all heard it) was long. We boys +were prepared for that too. But we couldn't treat a Thanksgiving sermon +as we would an ordinary one; we couldn't doze--there was too much ahead. +It seemed to me that the preacher made rather a merit of holding us in +check--with that basted turkey in waiting. At last, though, it came to +an end; and I believe Dick and I both joined in the doxology. + +All that followed is to me now a cloud of misty and joyful expectation, +until we took our places--a score or more of cousins and kinsfolk; and +the turkey, and celery, and cranberries, and what nots, were all in +place. + +Did Dick whisper to me as we went in, "Get next to me, old fellow"? + +I cannot say; I have a half recollection that he did. But bless me! what +did anybody care for what Dick said? + +And the old gentleman who bowed his head and said grace--there is no +forgetting him. And the little golden-haired one who sat at his +left--his pet, his idol--who lisped the thanksgiving after him, shall I +forget her, and the games of forfeit afterwards at evening that brought +her curls near to me? + +These fifty years she has been gone from sight, and is dust. What an +awful tide of Thanksgivings has drifted by since she bowed her golden +locks, and clasped her hand, and murmured, "Our Father, we thank thee +for this, and for all thy bounties!" + +Who else? Well, troops of cousins--good, bad, and indifferent. No man is +accountable for his cousins, I think; or if he is, the law should be +changed. If a man can't speak honestly of cousinhood, to the third or +fourth degree, what _can_ he speak honestly of? Didn't I see little Floy +(who wore pea-green silk) make a saucy grimace when I made a false cut +at that rolypoly turkey drumstick and landed it on the tablecloth? + +There was that scamp Tom, too, who loosened his waistcoat before he went +into dinner. I saw him do it. Didn't he make faces at me, till he caught +a warning from Aunt Polly's uplifted finger? + +[Illustration: A Thanksgiving Reunion.] + +How should I forget that good, kindly Aunt Polly--very severe in her +turban, and with her meeting-house face upon her, but full of a great +wealth of bonbons and dried fruits on Saturday afternoons, in I know not +what capacious pockets; ample, too, in her jokes and in her laugh; +making that day a great maelstrom of mirth around her? + +H---- sells hides now, and is as rich as Croesus, whatever that may +mean; but does he remember his venturesome foray for a little bit of +crisp roast pig that lay temptingly on the edge of the dish that day? + +There was Sarah, too,--turned of seventeen, education complete, looking +down on us all--terribly learned (I know for a fact that she kept Mrs. +Hemans in her pocket); terribly self-asserting, too. If she had not +married happily, and not had a little brood about her in after years +(which she did), I think she would have made one of the most terrible +Sorosians of our time. At least that is the way I think of it now, +looking back across the basted turkey (which she ate without gravy) and +across the range of eager Thanksgiving faces. + +There was Uncle Ned--no forgetting him--who had a way of patting a boy +on the head so that the patting reached clear through to the boy's +heart, and made him sure of a blessing hovering over. That was the +patting I liked. _That's_ the sort of uncle to come to a Thanksgiving +dinner--the sort that eat double filberts with you, and pay up next day +by noon with a pocketknife or a riding whip. Hurrah for Uncle Ned! + +And Aunt Eliza--is there any keeping her out of mind? I never liked the +name much; but the face and the kindliness which was always ready to +cover, as well as she might, what wrong we did, and to make clear what +good we did, make me enrol her now--where she belongs evermore--among +the saints. So quiet, so gentle, so winning, making conquest of all of +us, because she never sought it; full of dignity, yet never asserting +it; queening it over all by downright kindliness of heart. What a wife +she would have made! Heigho! how we loved her, and made our boyish love +of her--a Thanksgiving! + +Were there oranges? I think there were, with green spots on the +peel--lately arrived from Florida. Tom boasted that he ate four. I dare +say he told the truth--he looked peaked, and was a great deal the worse +for the dinner next day, I remember. + +Was there punch, or any strong liquors? No; so far as my recollection +now goes, there was none. + +Champagne? + +I have a faint remembrance of a loud pop or two which set some cousinly +curls over opposite me into a nervous shake. Yet I would not like to +speak positively. Good bottled cider or pop beer may possibly account +for all the special phenomena I call to mind. + +Was there coffee, and were there olives? Not to the best of my +recollection; or, if present, I lose them in the glamour of mince pies +and Marlborough puddings. + +How we ever sidled away from that board when that feast was done I have +no clear conception. I am firm in the belief that thanksgiving was said +at the end, as at the beginning. I have a faint recollection of a gray +head passing out at the door, and of a fleece of golden curls beside +him, against which I jostle--not unkindly. + +Dark? + +Yes; I think the sun had gone down about the time when the mince pies +had faded. + +Did Dick and Tom and the rest of us come sauntering in afterwards when +the rooms were empty, foraging for any little tidbits of the feast that +might be left, the tables showing only wreck under the dim light of a +solitary candle? + +How we found our way with the weight of that stupendous dinner by us to +the heights of Town-hill it is hard to tell. But we did, and when our +barrel pile was fairly ablaze, we danced like young satyrs round the +flame, shouting at our very loudest when the fire caught the tar barrel +at the top, and the yellow pile of blaze threw its lurid glare over hill +and houses and town. + +Afterwards I have recollection of an hour or more in a snug square +parlor, which is given over to us youngsters and our games, dimly +lighted, as was most fitting; but a fire upon the hearth flung out a red +glory on the floor and on the walls. + +Was it a high old time, or did we only pretend that it was? + +Didn't I know little Floy in that pea-green silk, with my hands clasped +round her waist and my eyes blinded--ever so fast? Didn't I give Dick an +awful pinch in the leg, when I lay _perdu_ under the sofa in another one +of those tremendous games? Didn't the door that led into the hall show a +little open gap from time to time--old faces peering in, looking very +kindly in the red firelight flaring on them? And didn't those we loved +best look oftenest? Don't they always? + +Well, well--we were fagged at last: little Floy in a snooze before we +knew it; Dick, pretending not to be sleepy, but gaping in a prodigious +way. But the romps and the fatigue made sleep very grateful when it came +at last: yet the sleep was very broken; the turkey and the nuts had +their rights, and bred stupendous Thanksgiving dreams. What gorgeous +dreams they were, to be sure! + +I seem to dream them again to-day. + +Once again I see the old, revered gray head bowing in utter +thankfulness, with the hands clasped. + +Once again, over the awful tide of intervening years--so full, and yet +so short--I seem to see the shimmer of _her_ golden hair--an aureole of +light blazing on the borders of boyhood: "_For this, and all thy +bounties, our Father, we thank thee._" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 20: From "Bound Together," by Donald G. Mitchell, published by +Charles Scribner's Sons.] + + + + +A THANKSGIVING[21] + + + Lord, thou hast given me a cell + Wherein to dwell-- + A little house, whose humble roof + Is weatherproof-- + Under the spans of which I lie + Both soft and dry, + Where thou, my chamber for to ward, + Hast set a guard + Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep + Me while I sleep. + + Low is my porch as is my fate-- + Both void of state-- + And yet the threshold of my door + Is worn by the poor + Who hither come, and freely get + Good words or meat. + + Like as my parlor, so my hall + And kitchen's small. + A little buttery, and therein + A little bin. + Which keeps my little loaf of bread + Unchipt, unfled. + + Some brittle sticks of thorn or brier + Make me a fire + Close by whose living coal I sit, + And glow like it. + Lord, I confess too, when I dine, + The pulse is thine, + And all those other bits that be + There placed by thee. + + 'Tis thou that crown'st my glittering hearth + With guiltless mirth, + And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink, + Spiced to the brink. + Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand + That soils my land, + And giv'st me for my bushel sown + Twice ten for one. + + All these and better thou dost send + Me to this end,-- + That I should render for my part, + A thankful heart; + Which, fired with incense, I resign + As wholly thine-- + But the acceptance, that must be, + My God, by thee. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 21: By Robert Herrick, an English poet (1591-1674).] + + + + +FIRST DAYS AT WAKEFIELD[22] + + + _A proof that even the humblest fortune may grant happiness, which + depends not on circumstances but constitution._ + +The place of our retreat was in a little neighborhood consisting of +farmers, who tilled their own grounds, and were equal strangers to +opulence and poverty. As they had almost all the conveniences of life +within themselves, they seldom visited towns or cities in search of +superfluity. Remote from the polite, they still retained the primeval +simplicity of manners; and frugal by habit, they scarcely knew that +temperance was a virtue. + +They wrought with cheerfulness on days of labor; but observed festivals +as intervals of idleness and pleasure. They kept up the Christmas carol, +sent true love knots on Valentine morning, ate pancakes on Shrovetide, +showed their wit on the first of April, and religiously cracked nuts on +Michaelmas Eve. + +Being apprised of our approach, the whole neighborhood came out to meet +their minister, dressed in their finest clothes, and preceded by a pipe +and tabor. A feast also was provided for our reception, at which we sat +cheerfully down; and what the conversation wanted in wit was made up in +laughter. + +Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a slopping bill, +sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river +before; on one side a meadow, on the other a green. My farm consisted of +about twenty acres of excellent land, having given a hundred pounds for +my predecessor's goodwill. Nothing could exceed the neatness of my +little inclosures, the elms and hedgerows appearing with inexpressible +beauty. + +My house consisted of but one story, and was covered with thatch, which +gave it an air of great snugness; the walls on the inside were nicely +whitewashed, and my daughters undertook to adorn them with pictures of +their own designing. Though the same room served us for parlor and +kitchen, that only made it the warmer. Besides, as it was kept with the +utmost neatness, the dishes, plates, and coppers being well scoured, and +all disposed in bright rows on the shelves, the eye was agreeably +relieved, and did not want richer furniture. There were three other +apartments,--one for my wife and me, another for our two daughters, and +the third, with two beds, for the rest of the children. + +The little republic to which I gave laws was regulated in the following +manner: by sunrise we all assembled in our common apartment, the fire +being previously kindled by the servant. After we had saluted each other +with proper ceremony--for I always thought fit to keep up some +mechanical forms of good breeding, without which freedom ever destroys +friendship--we all bent in gratitude to that Being who gave us another +day. + +This duty being performed, my son and I went to pursue our usual +industry abroad, while my wife and daughters employed themselves in +providing breakfast, which was always ready at a certain time. I allowed +half an hour for this meal and an hour for dinner, which time was taken +up in innocent mirth between my wife and daughters, and in philosophical +arguments between my son and me. + +As we rose with the sun, so we never pursued our labors after it was +gone down, but returned home to the expecting family, where smiling +looks, a neat hearth, and pleasant fire were prepared for our reception. +Nor were we without guests: sometimes Farmer Flamborough, our talkative +neighbor, and often the blind piper would pay us a visit, and taste our +gooseberry wine, for the making of which we had lost neither the receipt +nor the reputation. + +The night was concluded in the manner we began the morning, my youngest +boys being appointed to read the lessons of the day, and he that read +loudest, distinctest and best was to have a halfpenny on Sunday to put +in the poor's box. + +When Sunday came it was indeed a day of finery, which all my sumptuary +edicts could not restrain. How well soever I fancied my lectures against +pride had conquered the vanity of my daughters, yet I still found them +secretly attached to all their former finery; they still loved laces, +ribbons, bugles, and catgut; my wife herself retained a passion for her +crimson paduasoy, because I formerly happened to say it became her. + +[Illustration: The First Sunday at Wakefield.] + +The first Sunday in particular their behavior served to mortify me; I +had desired my girls the preceding night to be dressed early the next +day; for I always loved to be at church a good while before the rest of +the congregation. They punctually obeyed my directions; but when we were +to assemble in the morning at breakfast, down came my wife and daughters +dressed out all in their former splendor; their hair plastered up with +pomatum, their faces patched to taste, their trains bundled up in a heap +behind, and rustling at every motion. + +I could not help smiling at their vanity, particularly that of my wife, +from whom I expected more discretion. In this exigence, therefore, my +only resource was to order my son, with an important air, to call our +coach. The girls were amazed at the command; but I repeated it with more +solemnity than before. + +"Surely, my dear, you jest," cried my wife; "we can walk it perfectly +well; we want no coach to carry us now." + +"You mistake, child," returned I, "we do want a coach; for if we walk to +church in this trim, the very children in the parish will hoot after +us." + +"Indeed," replied my wife, "I always imagined that my Charles was fond +of seeing his children neat and handsome about him." + +"You may be as neat as you please," interrupted I, "and I shall love you +the better for it; but all this is not neatness, but frippery. These +rufflings and pinkings and patchings will only make us hated by all the +wives of all our neighbors. No, my children," continued I, more gravely, +"those gowns may be altered into something of a plainer cut; for finery +is very unbecoming in us, who want the means of decency. I do not know +whether such flouncing and shredding is becoming even in the rich, if we +consider, upon a moderate calculation, that the nakedness of the +indigent world may be clothed from the trimmings of the vain." + +This remonstrance had the proper effect; they went with great composure, +that very instant, to change their dress; and the next day I had the +satisfaction of finding my daughters, at their own request, employed in +cutting up their trains into Sunday waistcoats for Dick and Bill, the +two little ones; and what was still more satisfactory, the gowns seemed +improved by this curtailing. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 22: From "The Vicar of Wakefield," by Oliver Goldsmith, a +celebrated English author (1728-1774).] + + EXPRESSION: In this selection and the two which follow we have + three other specimens of English prose fiction. You will observe + that they are very different in style, as well as in subject, from + the three specimens at the beginning of this book. Compare them + with one another. Reread the selections from Dickens, Thackeray, + and George Eliot, and compare them with these. Which do you like + best? Why? + + + + +DOUBTING CASTLE[23] + + +I. THE PILGRIMS LOSE THEIR WAY + +Now I beheld in my dream that Christian and Hopeful had not journeyed +far until they came where the river and the way parted, at which they +were not a little sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now the +way from the river was rough, and their feet tender by reason of their +travel; so the souls of the pilgrims were much discouraged because of +the way. Wherefore, still as they went on, they wished for a better way. + +Now, a little before them, there was in the left hand of the road a +meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that meadow is called +By-path Meadow. Then said Christian to his fellow, "If this meadow lieth +along by our wayside, let us go over into it." Then he went to the stile +to see, and behold a path lay along by the way on the other side of the +fence. + +"'Tis according to my wish," said Christian; "here is the easiest going; +come, good Hopeful, and let us go over." + +"But how if this path should lead us out of the way?" + +"_That_ is not likely," said the other. "Look, doth it not go along by +the wayside?" + +So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after him over the +stile. When they were gone over, and were got into the path, they found +it very easy for their feet; and withal they, looking before them, +espied a man walking as they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence: so +they called after him, and asked him whither that way led. + +He said, "To the Celestial Gate." + +"Look," said Christian, "did not I tell you so?--by this you may see we +are right." + +So they followed, and he went before them. But, behold, the night came +on, and it grew very dark; so that they who were behind lost sight of +them that went before. He, therefore, that went before--Vain-Confidence +by name--not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep pit, and was +dashed in pieces with his fall. + +Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall; so they called to know the +matter. But there was none to answer, only they heard a groan. + +Then said Hopeful, "Where are we now?" + +Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had led him out of +the way; and now it began to rain and thunder and lightning in a most +dreadful manner, and the water rose amain, by reason of which the way of +going back was very dangerous. + +Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark and the flood so +high, that in their going back they had like to have been drowned nine +or ten times. Neither could they, with all the skill they had, get back +again to the stile that night. Wherefore, at last lighting under a +little shelter, they sat down there until daybreak. But, being weary, +they fell asleep. + +[Illustration: In the Giant's Dungeon.] + + +II. IN THE GIANT'S DUNGEON + +Now there was, not far from the place where they lay, a castle, called +Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was Giant Despair; and it was in his +grounds they now were sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up in the morning +early, and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian and +Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and surly voice, he bid +them awake, and asked them whence they were, and what they did in his +grounds. + +They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had lost their way. + +Then said the giant, "You have this night trespassed on me, by trampling +in and lying on my grounds, and therefore you must go along with me." + +So they were forced to go, because he was stronger than they. They also +had but little to say, for they knew themselves in a fault. The giant, +therefore, drove them before him, and put them into his castle, in a +very dark dungeon. + +Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday night, without +one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or light, or any to ask how they +did: they were, therefore, here in evil case, and were far from friends +and acquaintance. + +Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence. So, when he +was gone to bed, he told his wife that he had taken a couple of +prisoners, and had cast them into his dungeon for trespassing on his +grounds. Then he asked her also what he had best do to them. So she +asked him what they were, whence they came, and whither they were bound; +and he told her. Then she counseled him, that when he arose in the +morning he should beat them without mercy. + +So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crabtree cudgel, and goes +into the dungeon to them, and there first falls to rating of them as if +they were dogs, although they never gave him an unpleasant word. Then he +fell upon them, and beat them fearfully, in such sort that they were not +able to help themselves, or to turn them upon the floor. This done he +withdraws, and leaves them there to condole their misery, and to mourn +under their distress. So all that day they spent their time in nothing +but sighs and bitter lamentations. + +The next night she, talking with her husband further about them, and +understanding that they were yet alive, did advise him to counsel them +to make away with themselves. So, when morning was come, he goes to them +in a surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very sore with +the stripes that he had given them the day before, he told them that, +since they were never like to come out of that place, their only way +would be forthwith to make an end of themselves, either with knife, +halter, or poison: "for why," he said, "should you choose to live, +seeing it is attended with so much bitterness?" + +But they desired him to let them go. With that he looked ugly upon them, +and, rushing to them, had doubtless made an end of them himself, but +that he fell into one of his fits, and lost for a time the use of his +hands. Wherefore he withdrew, and left them, as before, to consider what +to do. + +Then did the prisoners consult between themselves, whether it was best +to take his counsel or no. But they soon resolved to reject it; for it +would be very wicked to kill themselves; and, besides, something might +soon happen to enable them to make their escape. + +Well, towards evening the giant goes down to the dungeon again, to see +if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but when he came there, he found +them alive. I say, he found them alive; at which he fell into a grievous +rage, and told them that, seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it +should be worse with them than if they had never been born. + +At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian fell into a +swoon; but, coming a little to himself again, they renewed their +discourse about the giant's counsel, and whether yet they had best take +it or no. Now Christian again seemed for doing it, but Hopeful reminded +him of the hardships and terrors he had already gone through, and said +that they ought to bear up with patience as well as they could, and +steadily reject the giant's wicked counsel. + +Now, night being come again, and the giant and his wife being in bed, +she asked him concerning the prisoners, and if they had taken his +counsel. To this he replied, "They are sturdy rogues, they choose rather +to bear all hardships than to make away themselves." + +Then said she, "Take them into the castle yard to-morrow, and show them +the bones and skulls of those that thou hast already dispatched, and +make them believe, thou wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done +their fellows before them." + +So when morning has come, the giant goes to them again, and takes them +into the castle yard, and shows them as his wife had bidden him. +"These," said he, "were pilgrims, as you are, once, and they trespassed +on my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in +pieces; and so within ten days I will do to you. Get you down to your +den again." + +And with that he beat them all the way thither. + +Now, when night was come, Mrs. Diffidence and her husband began to renew +their discourse of their prisoners. The old giant wondered that he could +neither by his blows nor by his counsel bring them to an end. + +And with that his wife replied, "I fear," said she, "that they live in +hopes that some will come to relieve them, or that they have picklocks +about them, by the means of which they hope to escape." + +"And sayest thou so, my dear?" said the giant; "I will therefore search +them in the morning." + +Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray, and continued in +prayer till almost break of day. + +Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one half amazed, +brake out into a passionate speech: "What a fool am I, thus to lie in a +dungeon! I have a key in my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am +persuaded, open any lock in Doubting Castle." + +Then said Hopeful, "That's good news, good brother; pluck it out of thy +bosom and try." + +Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the +dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the key, gave back, and the door +flew open with ease, and Christian and Hopeful both came out. + +After that, he went to the iron gate, for that must be opened too, but +that lock went desperately hard; yet the key did open it. Then they +thrust open the gate to make their escape with speed; but that gate, as +it opened, made such a creaking, that it waked Giant Despair, who, +hastily rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his +fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then +they went on, and came to the King's highway, again, and so were safe. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 23: From "The Pilgrim's Progress," by John Bunyan, a famous +English preacher and writer (1628-1688).] + + EXPRESSION: What peculiarities do you observe in Bunyan's style of + writing? Select the three most striking passages in this story, and + read them with spirit and correct expression. + + + + +SHOOTING WITH THE LONGBOW[24] + + +Proclamation was made that Prince John, suddenly called by high and +peremptory public duties, held himself obliged to discontinue the +entertainments of to-morrow's festival: nevertheless, that, unwilling so +many good yeomen should depart without a trial of skill, he was pleased +to appoint them, before leaving the ground, presently to execute the +competition of archery intended for the morrow. To the best archer a +prize was to be awarded, being a bugle-horn, mounted with silver, and a +silken baldric richly ornamented with a medallion of St. Hubert, the +patron of sylvan sport. + +More than thirty yeomen at first presented themselves as competitors, +several of whom were rangers and underkeepers in the royal forests of +Needwood and Charnwood. When, however, the archers understood with whom +they were to be matched, upwards of twenty withdrew themselves from the +contest, unwilling to encounter the dishonor of almost certain defeat. + +The diminished list of competitors for sylvan fame still amounted to +eight. Prince John stepped from his royal seat to view more nearly the +persons of these chosen yeomen, several of whom wore the royal livery. +Having satisfied his curiosity by this investigation, he looked for the +object of his resentment, whom he observed standing on the same spot, +and with the same composed countenance which he had exhibited upon the +preceding day. + +"Fellow," said Prince John, "I guessed by thy insolent babble thou wert +no true lover of the longbow, and I see thou darest not adventure thy +skill among such merry men as stand yonder." + +"Under favor, sir," replied the yeoman, "I have another reason for +refraining to shoot, besides the fearing discomfiture and disgrace." + +"And what is thy other reason?" said Prince John, who, for some cause +which perhaps he could not himself have explained, felt a painful +curiosity respecting this individual. + +"Because," replied the woodsman, "I know not if these yeomen and I are +used to shoot at the same marks; and because, moreover, I know not how +your grace might relish the winning of a third prize by one who has +unwittingly fallen under your displeasure." + +Prince John colored as he put the question, "What is thy name, yeoman?" + +"Locksley," answered the yeoman. + +"Then, Locksley," said Prince John, "thou shalt shoot in thy turn, when +these yeomen have displayed their skill. If thou carriest the prize, I +will add to it twenty nobles; but if thou losest it, thou shalt be +stripped of thy Lincoln green, and scourged out of the lists with +bowstrings, for a wordy and insolent braggart." + +"And how if I refuse to shoot on such a wager?" said the yeoman. "Your +grace's power, supported, as it is, by so many men at arms, may indeed +easily strip and scourge me, but cannot compel me to bend or to draw my +bow." + +"If thou refusest my fair proffer," said the prince, "the provost of the +lists shall cut thy bowstring, break thy bow and arrows, and expel thee +from the presence as a faint-hearted craven." + +"This is no fair chance you put on me, proud prince," said the yeoman, +"to compel me to peril myself against the best archers of Leicester and +Staffordshire, under the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me. +Nevertheless, I will obey your pleasure." + +"Look to him close, men at arms," said Prince John, "his heart is +sinking; I am jealous lest he attempt to escape the trial. And do you, +good fellows, shoot boldly round; a buck and a butt of wine are ready +for your refreshment in yonder tent, when the prize is won." + +A target was placed at the upper end of the southern avenue which led to +the lists. The contending archers took their station in turn, at the +bottom of the southern access; the distance between that station and the +mark allowing full distance for what was called a "shot at rovers." The +archers, having previously determined by lot their order of precedence, +were to shoot each three shafts in succession. The sports were regulated +by an officer of inferior rank, termed the provost of the games; for the +high rank of the marshals of the lists would have been held degraded had +they condescended to superintend the sports of the yeomanry. + +One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts +yeomanlike and bravely. Of twenty-four arrows shot in succession, ten +were fixed in the target, and the others ranged so near it that, +considering the distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery. + +Of the ten shafts which hit the target, two within the inner ring were +shot by Hubert, a forester, who was accordingly pronounced victorious. + +"Now, Locksley," said Prince John to the bold yeoman, with a bitter +smile, "wilt thou try conclusions with Hubert, or wilt thou yield up +bow, baldric, and quiver to the provost of the sports?" + +"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 longbow at Hastings, and I trust not to dishonor his memory." + +The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size +placed in its room. Hubert, who, as victor in the first trial of skill, +had the right to shoot first, 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 center of grasping place was nigh level with his face, he drew +the bowstring to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air, and +lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the +center. + +"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 instant that the shaft left the bowstring, +yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which +marked the center 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!" + +Hubert had but one set of speech for all occasions. "An your highness +were to hang me," he said, "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, not neglecting the caution +which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary +allowance for a very light breath of wind which had just arisen, and +shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very center of the +target. + +"A Hubert! a Hubert!" shouted the populace, more interested in a known +person than in a stranger. "In the clout!--in the clout! A Hubert +forever!" + +"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. +The people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful +dexterity, that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their +usual clamor. + +"This must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood," whispered the +yeomen to each other; "such archery was never seen since a bow was first +bent in Britain!" + +"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 to 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." + +Prince John made a signal that some attendants should follow him, in +case of his escape; but the cry of "Shame! shame!" which burst from the +multitude induced him to alter his ungenerous purpose. + +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 with great composure, observing, at the same time, +that to ask a good woodsman to shoot at a target so broad as had +hitherto been used was to put shame upon his skill. + +"For my own part," said he, "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 might hit yonder target with a headless +shaft; but," he added, walking deliberately to the other end of the +lists and sticking the willow wand upright in the ground, "he that hits +that rod at fivescore yards, I call him an archer fit to bear both bow +and quiver before a king, and it were the stout King Richard himself!" + +"My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings, +and never shot at such a mark in his life; 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 the edge of our parson's whittle, or at a wheat +straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can +hardly see." + +"Cowardly dog!" exclaimed 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. However it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of +superior skill." + +"'A man can but do his best!' as Hubert says," answered Locksley. + +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 bodyguard, 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. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 24: From "Ivanhoe," by Sir Walter Scott.] + + EXPRESSION: Compare this selection with the two which precede it. + "Pilgrim's Progress," "The Vicar of Wakefield," and "Ivanhoe" rank + high among the world's most famous books. Notice how long ago each + was written. Talk with your teacher about Bunyan, Goldsmith, and + Scott--their lives and their writings. + + + + +A CHRISTMAS HYMN[25] + + + 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. + +[Illustration] + + '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? + +[Illustration] + + 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 paused--for naught + Told what was going on within; + How keen the stars, his only thought,-- + The air how cold and calm and thin, + In the solemn midnight, + Centuries ago! + + Oh, 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 forever! + To that still moment none would heed + Man's doom was linked no more to sever, + In the solemn midnight, + Centuries ago. + +[Illustration] + + 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, newborn, + The peaceful Prince of earth and heaven, + In the solemn midnight, + Centuries ago. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 25: By Alfred Domett, (d[)o]m'et), an English writer +(1811-1887).] + + + + +CHRISTMAS EVE AT FEZZIWIG'S[26] + + +Old Fezziwig in his warehouse laid down his pen, and looked up at the +clock which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted +his waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ of +benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial +voice:-- + +"Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!" + +Ebenezer came briskly in, followed by his fellow-'prentice. + +"Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work to-night. Christmas Eve, +Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up," cried old +Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack +Robinson." + +You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it! They charged into +the street with the shutters--one, two, three--had 'em in their +places--four, five, six--barred 'em and pinned 'em--seven, eight, +nine--and came back before you could have got to twelve, panting like +race horses. + +"Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from his desk, with +wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room +here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup, Ebenezer!" + +Clear away? There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or +couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in +a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from +public life forevermore. The floor was swept and watered, the lamps were +trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug +and warm, and dry and bright, as any ballroom you would desire to see +upon a winter's night. + +In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the lofty desk, and +made an orchestra of it. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial +smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came +the six young followers, whose hearts they broke. In came all the young +men and young women employed in the business. In came the housemaid, +with her cousin the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's +particular friend the milkman. In came the boy from over the way, who +was suspected of not having enough to eat from his master. In they all +came, one after another--some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some +awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling. In they all came, anyhow and +everyhow. + +Away they all went, twenty couples at once; down the middle and up +again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old +top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting +off again as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a +bottom one to help them! + +When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to +stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" Then there were more dances, and +there were forfeits, and more dances; and there was cake, and there was +a great piece of cold roast, and there was a great piece of cold boiled, +and there were mince pies and other delicacies. But the great effect of +the evening came after the roast and the boiled, when the fiddler, +artful dog, struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Mr. Fezziwig +stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good +stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of +partners; people who were not to be trifled with--people who _would_ +dance, and had no notion of walking. + +But if they had been twice as many--aye, four times--old Mr. Fezziwig +would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to +_her_, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. If +that's not high praise, tell me higher and I'll use it.... And when Mr. +Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance--advance and +retire, both hands to your partner, bow and curtsy, thread the needle, +and back to your place--Fezziwig "cut" so deftly that he appeared to +wink with his legs, and came upon his feet again without a stagger. + +[Illustration: Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's.] + +When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. +Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and +shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, +wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the +two apprentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices +died away and the lads were left to their beds--which were under a +counter in the back shop. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 26: From "A Christmas Carol," by Charles Dickens.] + + + + +THE CHRISTMAS HOLLY[27] + + + The holly! the holly! oh, twine it with bay-- + Come give the holly a song; + For it helps to drive stern winter away, + With his garment so somber and long; + It peeps through the trees with its berries of red, + And its leaves of burnished green, + When the flowers and fruits have long been dead, + And not even the daisy is seen. + Then sing to the holly, the Christmas holly, + That hangs over peasant and king; + While we laugh and carouse 'neath its glittering boughs, + To the Christmas holly we'll sing. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 27: By Eliza Cook, an English poet (1818-1889).] + + EXPRESSION: Imagine that you see Mr. Fezziwig with his apprentices + preparing for the Christmas festivities. What is your opinion of + him? Now read the story, paragraph by paragraph, trying to make it + as interesting to your hearers as a real visit to Fezziwig + warehouse would have been. + + + + +THE NEW YEAR'S DINNER PARTY[28] + + +The Old Year being dead, the New Year came of age, which he does by +Calendar Law as soon as the breath is out of the old gentleman's body. +Nothing would serve the youth but he must give a dinner upon the +occasion, to which all the Days of the Year were invited. + +The Festivals, whom he appointed as his stewards, were mightily taken +with the notion. They had been engaged time out of mind, they said, in +providing mirth and cheer for mortals below; and it was time that they +should have a taste of their bounty. + +All the Days came to dinner. Covers were provided for three hundred and +sixty-five guests at the principal table; with an occasional knife and +fork at the sideboard for the Twenty-ninth of February. + +I should have told you that cards of invitation had been sent out. The +carriers were the Hours--twelve as merry little whirligig footpages as +you should desire to see. They went all round, and found out the persons +invited well enough, with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, +and a few such Movables, who had lately shifted their quarters. + +Well, they were all met at last, four Days, five Days, all sorts of +Days, and a rare din they made of it. There was nothing but "Hail! +fellow Day!" "Well met, brother Day! sister Day!" only Lady Day kept a +little on the aloof and seemed somewhat scornful. Yet some said that +Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came in a silk suit, white and gold, +like a queen on a frost-cake, all royal and glittering. + +The rest came, some in green, some in white--but Lent and his family +were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days came in dripping, and Sunshiny +Days helped them to change their stockings. Wedding Day was there in his +marriage finery. Pay Day came late, as he always does. Doomsday sent +word he might be expected. + +April Fool (as my lord's jester) took upon himself to marshal the +guests. And wild work he made of it; good Days, bad Days, all were +shuffled together. He had stuck the Twenty-first of June next to the +Twenty-second of December, and the former looked like a Maypole by the +side of a marrow bone. Ash Wednesday got wedged in betwixt Christmas and +Lord Mayor's Day. + +At another part of the table, Shrove Tuesday was helping the Second of +September to some broth, which courtesy the latter returned with the +delicate thigh of a pheasant. The Last of Lent was springing upon +Shrovetide's pancakes; April Fool, seeing this, told him that he did +well, for pancakes were proper to a good fry-day. + +May Day, with that sweetness which is her own, made a neat speech +proposing the health of the founder. This being done, the lordly New +Year from the upper end of the table, in a cordial but somewhat lofty +tone, returned thanks. + +They next fell to quibbles and conundrums. The question being proposed, +who had the greatest number of followers--the Quarter Days said there +could be no question as to that; for they had all the creditors in the +world dogging their heels. But April Fool gave it in favor of the Forty +Days before Easter; because the debtors in all cases outnumbered the +creditors, and they kept Lent all the year. + +At last, dinner being ended, the Days called for their cloaks, and great +coats, and took their leaves. Lord Mayor's Day went off in a Mist as +usual; Shortest Day in a deep black Fog, which wrapped the little +gentleman all round like a hedgehog. + +Two Vigils, or watchmen, saw Christmas Day safe home. Another Vigil--a +stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve of St. Christopher--escorted Ash +Wednesday. + +Longest Day set off westward in beautiful crimson and gold--the rest, +some in one fashion, some in another, took their departure. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 28: By Charles Lamb, an English essayist and humorist +(1775-1834).] + + EXPRESSION: What holidays are named in this selection? What + holidays do you know about that were not present at this dinner? + Refer to the dictionary and learn about all the days here + mentioned. Select the humorous passages in this story, and tell why + you think they are humorous. + + + + +THE TOWN PUMP[29] + + +[SCENE.--_The corner of two principal streets. The Town Pump talking +through its nose._] + +Noon, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too, by those +hot sunbeams which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head, and almost make +the water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public +characters have a tough time of it! And among all the town officers, +chosen at the annual meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single +year, the burden of such manifold duties as are imposed in perpetuity, +upon the Town Pump? + +The title of town treasurer is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best +treasure the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to make me their +chairman since I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to +him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire department, and one of +the physicians of the board of health. As a keeper of the peace all +water drinkers confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the +duties of the town clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they am +pasted on my front. + +To speak within bounds, I am chief person of the municipality, and +exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern to my brother officers by the +cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my +business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or +winter, nobody seeks me in vain; for, all day long I am seen at the +busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich +and poor alike; and at night I hold a lantern over my head, to show +where I am, and to keep people out of the gutters. + +At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for +whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram seller +on the public square, on a muster day, I cry aloud to all and sundry, in +my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice, "Here it is, +gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, walk +up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale +of father Adam! better than cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong beer, or +wine of any price; here it is by the hogshead or the single glass, and +not a cent to pay. Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves!" + +It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they +come. A hot day, gentlemen. Quaff and away again, so as to keep +yourselves in a nice, cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another +cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as +it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of +miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and +stopped at the running brooks and well curbs. Otherwise, betwixt heat +without and fire within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or +melted down to nothing at all--in the fashion of a jellyfish. + +Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench +the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup +of mine. Welcome, most rubicund sir! You and I have been strangers +hitherto; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a +closer intimacy till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent. + +Mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet, +and is converted quite into steam in the miniature Tophet, which you +mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an honest +toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any other kind of dramshop, +spend the price of your children's food for a swig half so delicious? +Now, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavor of cold +water. Good-by; and whenever you are thirsty, recollect that I keep a +constant supply at the old stand. + +Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are just let loose from school, and +come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain +taps of the ferule, and other schoolboy troubles, in a draft from the +Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life; take it, and +may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than +now. + +[Illustration: The Town Pump.] + +There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your place to this +elderly gentleman, who treads so tenderly over the paving stones that I +suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! he limps by without so much +as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers were meant only for people +who have no wine cellars. + +Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope! Go, draw the cork, tip the +decanter; but when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be no +affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillation of the gout, +it is all one to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue +lolling out, does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind legs +and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away +again! Jowler, did your worship ever have the gout? + +Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my stream of eloquence, and +spout forth a stream of water, to replenish the trough for this teamster +and his two yoke of oxen, who have come all the way from Staunton, or +somewhere along that way. No part of my business gives me more pleasure +than the watering of cattle. Look! how rapidly they lower the watermark +on the sides of the trough, till their capacious stomachs are moistened +with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afford time to breathe, with +sighs of calm enjoyment! Now they roll their quiet eyes around the brim +of their monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper. + +I hold myself the grand reformer of the age. From the Town Pump, as from +other sources of water supply, must flow the stream that will cleanse +our earth of a vast portion of the crime and anguish which have gushed +from the fiery fountains of the still. In this mighty enterprise, the +cow shall be my great confederate. Milk and water! + +Ahem! Dry work this speechifying, especially to all unpracticed orators. +I never conceived, till now, what toil the temperance lecturers undergo +for my sake. Do, some kind Christian, pump a stroke or two, just to wet +my whistle. Thank you, sir. But to proceed. + +The Town Pump and the Cow! Such is the glorious partnership that shall +finally monopolize the whole business of quenching thirst. Blessed +consummation! Then Poverty shall pass away from the land, finding no +hovel so wretched where her squalid form may shelter itself. Then +Disease, for lack of other victims, shall gnaw his own heart and die. +Then Sin, if she do not die, shall lose half her strength. + +Then there will be no war of households. The husband and the wife, +drinking deep of peaceful joy, a calm bliss of temperate affections, +shall pass hand in hand through life, and lie down, not reluctantly, at +its protracted close. To them the past will be no turmoil of mad dreams, +nor the future an eternity of such moments as follow the delirium of a +drunkard. Their dead faces shall express what their spirits were, and +are to be, by a lingering smile of memory and hope. + +Drink, then, and be refreshed! The water is as pure and cold as when it +slaked the thirst of the red hunter, and flowed beneath the aged bough, +though now this gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hot +stones, where no shadow falls but from the brick buildings. But still is +this fountain the source of health, peace, and happiness, and I behold, +with certainty and joy, the approach of the period when the virtues of +cold water, too little valued since our father's days, will be fully +appreciated and recognized by all. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 29: By Nathaniel Hawthorne, an American writer of romances and +short stories (1804-1864).] + + EXPRESSION: Read this selection again and again until you + understand it clearly and appreciate its rare charm. Study each + paragraph separately, observing how the topic of each is developed. + Select the expressions which are the most pleasing to you. Tell why + each pleases. + + Did you ever see a town pump? In the cities and larger towns, what + has taken its place? Can we imagine a hydrant or a water faucet + talking as this town pump did? If Hawthorne were writing to-day, + would he represent the town pump as the "chief person of the + municipality"? Discuss this question fully. + + Talk with your teacher about the life and works of the author of + this selection. If you have access to any of his books, bring them + to the class and read selections from them. Compare the style of + this story with that of the selection from Dickens, page 22; or + from Thackeray, page 27; or from Goldsmith, page 94. + + WORD STUDY: Refer to the dictionary for the pronunciation and + meaning of: _perpetuity_, _constable_, _municipality_, _cognac_, + _quaff_, _rubicund_, _Tophet_, _decanter_, _titillation_, + _capacious_. + + + + +COME UP FROM THE FIELDS, FATHER[30] + + + Come up from the fields, father; here's a letter from our Pete, + And come to the front door, mother; here's a letter from thy dear son. + Lo, 'tis autumn; + Lo, where the fields, deeper green, yellower and redder, + Cool and sweeten Ohio's villages, with leaves fluttering in the moderate + wind; + + Where apples ripe in the orchards hang, and grapes on the trellised + vines, + (Smell you the smell of the grapes on the vines? + Smell you the buckwheat, where the bees were lately buzzing?) + Above all, lo! the sky so calm, so transparent after the rain, and with + wondrous clouds; + Below, too, all calm, all vital and beautiful,--and the farm prospers + well. + + Down in the fields all prospers well; + But now from the fields come, father,--come at the daughter's call; + And come to the entry, mother,--to the front door come, right away. + Fast as she can she hurries,--something ominous,--her steps trembling; + She does not tarry to smooth her white hair, nor adjust her cap. + + Open the envelope quickly; + Oh, this is not our son's writing, yet his name is signed! + Oh, a strange hand writes for our dear son--O stricken mother's soul! + All swims before her eyes,--flashes with black,--she catches the main + words only; + Sentences broken,--_gunshot wound in the breast_--_cavalry skirmish, + taken to hospital, + At present low, but will soon be better._ + + Ah! now the single figure to me + Amid all teeming and wealthy Ohio, with all its cities and farms, + Sickly white in the face and dull in the head, very faint, + By the jamb of a door leans. + + _Grieve not so, dear mother_ (the just grown daughter speaks through her + sobs; + The little sisters huddle around, speechless and dismayed). + _See, dearest mother, the letter says Pete will soon be better._ + Alas, poor boy! he will never be better (nor, maybe, needs to be better, + that brave and simple soul). + While they stand at home at the door he is dead already, + The only son is dead. + +[Illustration: "Come up from the fields, father."] + + But the mother needs to be better; + She, with thin form, presently dressed in black; + By day her meals untouched,--then at night fitfully sleeping, often + waking, + In the midnight waking, weeping, longing with one deep longing, + Oh, that she might withdraw unnoticed, silent from life, escape and + withdraw, + To follow, to seek, to be with her dear dead son! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 30: By Walt Whitman, an American poet (1819-1892).] + + EXPRESSION: This poem is descriptive of an incident which occurred + during the Civil War. There were many such incidents, both in the + North and in the South. Read the selection silently to understand + its full meaning. Who are the persons pictured to your imagination + after reading it? Describe the place and the time. + + Now read the poem aloud, giving full expression to its pathetic + meaning. Select the most striking descriptive passage and read it. + Select the stanza which seems to you the most touching, and read + it. + + Study now the peculiarities of the poem. Do the lines rime? Are + they of similar length? What can you say about the meter? + + Compare this poem with the two gems from Browning, pages 38 and 41. + Compare it with the selection from Longfellow, page 54; with that + from Lanier, page 66. How does it differ from any or all of these? + What is poetry? Name three great American poets; three great + English poets. + + + + +THE ADDRESS AT GETTYSBURG[31] + + +Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this +continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the +proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a +great civil war, testing whether that nation--or any nation so conceived +and so dedicated--can long endure. + +We are met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicate +a portion of that field as the final resting place for those who here +gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting +and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot +dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow, this ground. The brave +men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above +our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long +remember what we say here; but it can never forget what they did here. + +It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished +work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is +rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before +us;--that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that +cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion;--that we +here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that +this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that +government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not +perish from the earth. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 31: By Abraham Lincoln, at the dedication of the National +Cemetery, 1863.] + + + + +ODE TO THE CONFEDERATE DEAD[32] + + + Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, + Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause; + Though yet no marble column craves + The pilgrim here to pause. + + In seeds of laurel in the earth + The blossom of your fame is blown, + And somewhere, waiting for its birth, + The shaft is in the stone. + + Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years + Which keep in trust your storied tombs, + Behold! Your sisters bring their tears + And these memorial blooms. + + Small tribute! but your shades will smile + More proudly on these wreathes to-day, + Than when some cannon-molded pile + Shall overlook this bay. + + Stoop, angels, hither from the skies! + There is no holier spot of ground + Than where defeated valor lies, + By mourning beauty crowned. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 32: By Henry Timrod, an American poet (1829-1867).] + + + + +THE CHARIOT RACE[33] + + +Orestes? He is dead. I will tell all as it happened. + +He journeyed forth to attend the great games which Hellas counts her +pride, to join the Delphic contests. There he heard the herald's voice, +with loud and clear command, proclaim, as coming first, the chariot +race, and so he entered, radiant, every eye admiring as he passed. And +in the race he equaled all the promise of his form in those his rounds, +and so with noblest prize of conquest left the ground. + +Summing up in fewest words what many scarce could tell, I know of none +in strength and act like him. And having won the prize in all the +fivefold forms of race which the umpires had proclaimed, he then was +hailed, proclaimed an Argive, and his name Orestes, the son of mighty +Agamemnon, who once led Hellas's glorious host. + +So far, well. But when a god will injure, none can escape, strong though +he be. For lo! another day, when, as the sun was rising, came the race +swift-footed of the chariot and the horse, he entered the contest with +many charioteers. One was an Achaean, one was from Sparta, two were from +Libya with four-horsed chariots, and Orestes with swift Thessalian mares +came as the fifth. A sixth, with bright bay colts, came from AEtolia; the +seventh was born in far Magnesia; the eighth was an AEnian with white +horses; the ninth was from Athens, the city built by the gods; the tenth +and last was a Boeotian. + +[Illustration: The Chariot Race.] + +And so they stood, their cars in order as the umpires had decided by +lot. Then, with sound of brazen trumpet, they started. + +All cheering their steeds at the same moment, they shook the reins, and +at once the course was filled with the clash and din of rattling +chariots, and the dust rose high. All were now commingled, each striving +to pass the hubs of his neighbors' wheels. Hard and hot were the horses' +breathings, and their backs and the chariot wheels were white with foam. + +Each charioteer, when he came to the place where the last stone marks +the course's goal, turned the corner sharply, letting go the right-hand +trace horse and pulling the nearer in. And so, at first, the chariots +kept their course; but, at length, the AEnian's unbroken colts, just as +they finished their sixth or seventh round, turned headlong back and +dashed at full speed against the chariot wheels of those who were +following. Then with tremendous uproar, each crashed on the other, they +fell overturned, and Crissa's broad plain was filled with wreck of +chariots. + +The man from Athens, skilled and wise as a charioteer, saw the mischief +in time, turned his steeds aside, and escaped the whirling, raging surge +of man and horse. Last of all, Orestes came, holding his horses in +check, and waiting for the end. But when he saw the Athenian, his only +rival left, he urged his colts forward, shaking the reins and speeding +onward. And now the twain continued the race, their steeds sometimes +head to head, sometimes one gaining ground, sometimes the other; and so +all the other rounds were passed in safety. + +Upright in his chariot still stood the ill-starred hero. Then, just as +his team was turning, he let loose the left rein unawares, and struck +the farthest pillar, breaking the spokes right at his axles' center. +Slipping out of his chariot, he was dragged along, with reins +dissevered. His frightened colts tore headlong through the midst of the +field; and the people, seeing him in his desperate plight, bewailed him +greatly--so young, so noble, so unfortunate, now hurled upon the ground, +helpless, lifeless. + +The charioteers, scarcely able to restrain the rushing steeds, freed the +poor broken body--so mangled that not one of all his friends would have +known whose it was. They built a pyre and burned it; and now they bear +hither, in a poor urn of bronze, the sad ashes of that mighty form--that +so Orestes may have his tomb in his fatherland. + +Such is my tale, full sad to hear; but to me who saw this accident, +nothing can ever be more sorrowful. + +[Illustration] + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 33: Translated from the "Electra" of Sophocles, written about +450 years before Christ. The narrative is supposed to have been related +by the friend and attendant of the hero, Orestes.] + + + + +THE COLISEUM AT MIDNIGHT[34] + + +I crossed the Forum to the foot of the Palatine, and, ascending the Via +Sacra, passed beneath the Arch of Titus. From this point I saw below me +the gigantic outline of the Coliseum, like a cloud resting upon the +earth. + +As I descended the hillside, it grew more broad and high,--more definite +in its form, and yet more grand in its dimensions,--till, from the vale +in which it stands encompassed by three of the Seven Hills of Rome, the +majestic ruin in all its solitary grandeur "swelled vast to heaven." + +A single sentinel was pacing to and fro beneath the arched gateway which +leads to the interior, and his measured footsteps were the only sound +that broke the breathless silence of night. + +What a contrast with the scene which that same midnight hour presented, +when in Domitian's time the eager populace began to gather at the gates, +impatient for the morning sports! Nor was the contrast within less +striking. Silence, and the quiet moonbeams, and the broad, deep shadow +of the ruined wall! + +Where now were the senators of Rome, her matrons, and her virgins? Where +was the ferocious populace that rent the air with shouts, when, in the +hundred holidays that marked the dedication of this imperial slaughter +house, five thousand wild beasts from the Libyan deserts and the forests +of Anatolia made the arena sick with blood? + +Where were the Christian martyrs that died with prayers upon their lips, +amid the jeers and imprecations of their fellow men? Where were the +barbarian gladiators, brought forth to the festival of blood, and +"butchered to make a Roman holiday"? + +The awful silence answered, "They are mine!" The dust beneath me +answered, "They are mine!" + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 34: From "Outre Mer," by Henry W. Longfellow.] + + EXPRESSION: Learn all you can about the Coliseum. When was it + built? by whom? For what was it used? + + WORD STUDY: _Forum_, _Palatine_, _Via Sacra_, _Titus_, _Domitian_, + _Libyan_, _Anatolia_. + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE[35] + + + Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, + That was built in such a logical way + It ran a hundred years to a day, + And then, of a sudden, it--ah, but stay, + I'll tell you what happened, without delay, + Scaring the parson into fits, + Frightening people out of their wits,-- + Have you ever heard of that, I say? + + Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. + _Georgius Secundus_ was then alive,-- + Snuffy old drone from the German hive. + That was the year when Lisbon town + Saw the earth open and gulp her down, + And Braddock's army was done so brown, + Left without a scalp to its crown. + It was on the terrible Earthquake day + That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay. + + Now in building of chaises, I tell you what, + There is always _somewhere_ a weakest spot,-- + In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill, + In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill, + In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace,--lurking still, + Find it somewhere, you must and will,-- + Above or below, or within or without,-- + And that's the reason, beyond a doubt, + A chaise _breaks down_, but doesn't _wear out_. + + But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do, + With an "I dew vum," or an "I tell _yeou_,") + He would build one shay to beat the taown + 'n' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun'; + It should be so built that it _couldn'_ break daown: + "Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain + Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain; + 'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, + Is only jest + T' make that place uz strong uz the rest." + +[Illustration: The Deacon's Masterpiece.] + + So the Deacon inquired of the village folk + Where he could find the strongest oak, + That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke, + That was for spokes and floor and sills; + He sent for lancewood to make the thills; + The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees; + The panels of white wood, that cuts like cheese, + But lasts like iron for things like these; + The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum," + Last of its timber,--they couldn't sell 'em, + Never an ax had seen their chips, + And the wedges flew from between their lips, + Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips; + Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw, + Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin, too, + Steel of the finest, bright and blue; + Thoroughbrace bison skin, thick and wide; + Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide + Found in the pit when the tanner died. + That was the way he "put her through."-- + "There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew." + + Do! I tell you, I rather guess + She was a wonder, and nothing less! + Colts grew horses, beards turned gray, + Deacon and deaconess dropped away, + Children and grandchildren--where were they? + But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay + As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake day! + + EIGHTEEN HUNDRED,--it came and found + The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound, + Eighteen hundred increased by ten,-- + "Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then. + Eighteen hundred and twenty came,-- + Running as usual; much the same. + Thirty and forty at last arrive, + And then come fifty and FIFTY-FIVE. + + Little of all we value here + Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year + Without both feeling and looking queer. + In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, + So far as I know, but a tree and truth. + (This is a moral that runs at large; + Take it,--You're welcome.--No extra charge.) + + FIRST OF NOVEMBER,--the Earthquake day.-- + There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay, + A general flavor of mild decay, + But nothing local, as one may say. + There couldn't be,--for the Deacon's art + Had made it so like in every part + That there wasn't a chance for one to start, + For the wheels were just as strong as the thills, + And the floor was just as strong as the sills, + And the panels just as strong as the floor, + And the whippletree neither less nor more, + And the back crossbar as strong as the fore, + And spring and axle and hub _encore_. + And yet, as a _whole_, it is past a doubt + In another hour it will be _worn out_! + +[Illustration] + + First of November, Fifty-five! + This morning the parson takes a drive. + Now, small boys, get out of the way! + Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay, + Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay. + "Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they. + The parson was working his Sunday's text,-- + Had got to _fifthly_, and stopped perplexed + At what the--Moses--was coming next. + All at once the horse stood still, + Close by the meet'n'house on the hill. + --First a shiver, and then a thrill, + Then something decidedly like a spill,-- + And the parson was sitting upon a rock, + At half-past nine by the meet'n'house clock,-- + Just the hour of the earthquake shock! + --What do you think the parson found, + When he got up and stared around? + The poor old chaise in a heap or mound, + As if it had been to the mill and ground. + You see, of course, if you're not a dunce, + How it went to pieces all at once,-- + All at once, and nothing first,-- + Just as bubbles do when they burst. + + End of the wonderful one-hoss shay. + Logic is logic. That's all I say. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 35: From "The Autocrat or the Breakfast Table," by Oliver +Wendell Holmes, a noted American author and physician (1809--1894).] + + EXPRESSION: Read the selection silently to appreciate its humor. + Now read it aloud with careful attention to naturalness of + expression. Study the historical allusions--"Georgius Secundus," + "Lisbon town," "Braddock's army," "the Earthquake day," etc. + + Read again the passages in which dialect expressions occur. Try to + speak these passages as the author intended them to be spoken. + + Select the passages which appeal most strongly to your sense of + humor. Read them in such manner as to make their humorous quality + thoroughly appreciable to those who listen to you. + + Now study the selection as a poem, comparing it with several + typical poems which you have already studied. Remembering your + definition of poetry (page 138), what is the real poetical value of + this delightful composition? Is it a true poem? Find some other + poems written by Dr. Holmes. Bring them to the class and read them + aloud. + + Talk with your teacher about the life of Dr. Holmes and about his + prose and poetical works. As a poet, how does he compare with + Longfellow? with Whittier? with Walt Whitman? with Browning? + + + + +DOGS AND CATS[36] + + +Most people agree that the dog has intelligence, a heart, and possibly a +soul; on the other hand, they declare that the cat is a traitor, a +deceiver, an ingrate, a thief. How many persons have I heard say: "Oh, I +can't bear a cat! The cat has no love for its master; it cares only for +the house. I had one once, for I was living in the country, where there +were mice. One day the cook left on the kitchen table a chicken she had +just prepared for cooking; in came the cat, and carried it off, and we +never saw a morsel of it. Oh, I hate cats; I will never have one." + +True, the cat is unpopular. Her reputation is bad, and she makes no +effort to improve the general opinion which people have of her. She +cares as little about your opinion as does the Sultan of Turkey. +And--must I confess--this is the very reason I love her. + +In this world, no one can long be indifferent to things, whether trivial +or serious--if, indeed, anything is serious. Hence, every person must, +sooner or later, declare himself on the subjects of dogs and cats. + +Well, then! I love cats. + +Ah, how many times people have said to me, "What! do you love cats?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well, don't you love dogs better?" + +"No, I prefer cats every time." + +"Oh, that's very queer!" + +The truth is, I would rather have neither cat nor dog. But when I am +obliged to live with one of these beings, I always choose the cat. I +will tell you why. + +The cat seems to me to have the manners most necessary to good society. +In her early youth she has all the graces, all the gentleness, all the +unexpectedness that the most artistic imagination could desire. She is +smart; she never loses herself. She is prudent, going everywhere, +looking into everything, breaking nothing. + +The cat steals fresh mutton just as the dog steals it, but, unlike the +dog, she takes no delight in carrion. She is fastidiously clean--and in +this respect, she might well be imitated by many of her detractors. She +washes her face, and in so doing foretells the weather into the bargain. +You may please yourself by putting a ribbon around her neck, but never a +collar; she cannot be enslaved. + +In short, the cat is a dignified, proud, disdainful animal. She defies +advances and tolerates no insults. She abandons the house in which she +is not treated according to her merits. She is, in both origin and +character, a true aristocrat, while the dog is and always will be, a +mere vulgar parvenu. + +The only serious argument that can be urged against the cat is that she +destroys the birds, not caring whether they are sparrows or +nightingales. If the dog does less, it is because of his stupidity and +clumsiness, not because he is above such business. He also runs after +the birds; but his foolish barking warns them of his coming, and as they +fly away he can only watch them with open mouth and drooping tail. + +The dog submits himself to the slavery of the collar in order to be +taught the art of circumventing rabbits and pigeons--and this not for +his own profit, but for the pleasure of his master, the hunter. Foolish, +foolish fellow! An animal himself, he delights in persecuting other +animals at the command of the man who beats him. + +But the cat, when she catches a bird, has a good excuse for her +cruelty--she catches it only to eat it herself. Shall she be slandered +for such an act? Before condemning her, men may well think of their own +shortcomings. They will find among themselves, as well as in the race of +cats, many individuals who have claws and often use them for the +destruction of those who are gifted with wings. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 36: Translated from Alexandre Dumas, a noted French novelist +(1802-1870).] + + EXPRESSION: In what does the humor of this selection consist? Read + aloud and with expression the passages which appeal to you as the + most enjoyable. Do you agree with all the statements made by the + author? Read these with which you disagree, and then give reasons + for your disagreement. + + + + +THE OWL CRITIC[37] + + + "Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop; + The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; + The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading + The _Daily_, the _Herald_, the _Post_, little heeding + The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; + Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion; + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Don't you see, Mister Brown," + Cried the youth, with a frown, + "How wrong the whole thing is, + How preposterous each wing is, + How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is-- + In short, the whole owl, what an ignorant wreck 'tis? + I make no apology; + I've learned owl-eology, + I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections, + And cannot be blinded to any deflections + Arising from unskillful fingers that fail + To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. + Mister Brown! Mister Brown! + Do take that bird down, + Or you'll soon be the laughingstock all over town!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + +[Illustration: The Owl Critic.] + + "I've _studied_ owls, + And other night fowls, + And I tell you + What I know to be true: + An owl cannot roost + With his limbs so unloosed; + No owl in this world + Ever had his claws curled, + Ever had his legs slanted, + Ever had his bill canted, + Ever had his neck screwed + Into that attitude. + He can't _do_ it, because + 'Tis against all bird laws. + Anatomy teaches, + Ornithology preaches, + An owl has a toe + That _can't_ turn out so! + I've made the white owl my study for years, + And to see such a job almost moves me to tears! + Mister Brown, I'm amazed + You should be so gone crazed + As to put up a bird + In that posture absurd! + To _look_ at that owl really brings on a dizziness; + The man who stuffed _him_ don't half know his business!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "Examine those eyes. + I'm filled with surprise + Taxidermists should pass + Off on you such poor glass; + So unnatural they seem + They'd make Audubon scream, + And John Burroughs laugh + To encounter such chaff. + Do take that bird down: + Have him stuffed again, Brown!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + + "With some sawdust and bark + I could stuff in the dark + An owl better than that. + I could make an old hat + Look more like an owl than that horrid fowl + Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. + In fact, about _him_ there's not one natural feather." + Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, + The owl, very gravely, got down from his perch, + Walked round, and regarded his fault-finding critic + (Who thought he was stuffed) with a glance analytic, + And then fairly hooted, as if he should say, + "Your learning's at fault _this_ time, anyway; + Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. + I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!" + And the barber kept on shaving. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 37: By James T. Fields, an American publisher and author +(1817-1881).] + + + + +MRS. CAUDLE'S UMBRELLA LECTURE[38] + + +Bah! That's the third umbrella gone since Christmas. What were you to +do? Why, let him go home in the rain, to be sure. I'm very certain there +was nothing about him that could spoil. Take cold? Indeed! He doesn't +look like one of the sort to take cold. Besides, he'd better have taken +cold than taken our umbrella. Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, +DO YOU HEAR THE RAIN? + +Pooh! don't think me a fool, Mr. Caudle. Don't insult me. He return the +umbrella? Anybody would think you were born yesterday. As if anybody +ever did return an umbrella! + +I should like to know how the children are to go to school to-morrow. +They shan't go through such weather, I'm determined. No! they shall stay +at home and never learn anything--the blessed creatures--sooner than go +and get wet. And when they grow up, I wonder whom they'll have to thank +for knowing nothing--who, indeed, but their father? + +But I know why you lent the umbrella. Oh, yes! I know very well. I was +going out to tea at dear mother's to-morrow--you knew that--and you did +it on purpose. Don't tell me; you hate to have me to go there, and take +every mean advantage to hinder me. But don't you think it, Mr. Caudle. +No, sir; if it comes down in bucketfuls I'll go all the more. + +No! and I won't have a cab! Where do you think the money's to come from? +You've got nice, high notions at that club of yours. A cab, indeed! Cost +me sixteen pence at least--sixteen pence?--two-and-eight-pence, for +there's back again! Cabs, indeed! I should like to know who is to pay +for them! I can't pay for them, and I'm sure you can't if you go on as +you do; throwing away your property and beggaring your children, buying +umbrellas. + +Do you hear the rain, Mr. Caudle? I say, DO YOU HEAR IT? But I don't +care--I'll go to mother's to-morrow, I will; and what's more, I'll walk +every step of the way; and you know that will give me my death. Don't +call me a foolish woman; it's you that's the foolish man. You know I +can't wear clogs; and with no umbrella, the wet's sure to give me a +cold--it always does. But what do you care for that? Nothing at all. I +may be laid up for what you care, as I dare say I shall--and a pretty +doctor's bill there'll be. I hope there will! It will teach you to lend +your umbrella again. I shouldn't wonder if I caught my death; and that's +what you lent your umbrella for. Of course! + +Nice clothes I shall get, too, traipsing through weather like this. My +gown and bonnet will be spoiled quite. Needn't I wear them, then? +Indeed, Mr. Caudle, I shall wear them. No, sir; I'm not going out a +dowdy to please you or anybody else. Gracious knows, it isn't often I +step over the threshold; indeed, I might as well be a slave at +once--better, I should say. But when I go out, Mr. Caudle, I choose to +go as a lady. + +Ugh! I look forward with dread for to-morrow. How I'm to go to mother's +I'm sure I can't tell. But, if I die, I'll go. No, sir; I won't _borrow_ +an umbrella. + +No; and you shan't _buy_ one. Mr. Caudle, if you bring home another +umbrella, I'll throw it into the street. Ha! it was only last week I had +a new nozzle put to that umbrella. I'm sure if I'd known as much as I do +now, it might have gone without one, for all of me. + +The children, too, dear things, they'll be sopping wet; for they shan't +stay at home; they shan't lose their learning; it's all their father +will leave them, I'm sure. But they shall go to school. Don't tell me I +said they shouldn't; you are so aggravating, Caudle, you'd spoil the +temper of an angel; they shall go to school; mark that! And if they get +their deaths of cold, it's not my fault. I didn't lend the umbrella. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 38: By Douglas William Jerrold, an English humorous writer +(1803-1857).] + + NOTE: Which of the various specimens of humor here presented do you + enjoy most? Give reasons. + + + + +THE DARK DAY IN CONNECTICUT[39] + + + 'Twas on a Mayday of the far old year, + Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell + Over the bloom and sweet life of the spring, + Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon, + A horror of great darkness, like the night + In day of which the Norland sagas tell,-- + The Twilight of the Gods.... + Birds ceased to sing, and all the barnyard fowls + Roosted; the cattle at the pasture bars + Lowed, and looked homeward; bats on leathern wings + Flitted abroad; the sounds of labor died; + Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp + To hear the doom blast of the trumpet shatter + The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ + Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked + A loving guest at Bethany, but stern + As Justice and inexorable Law. + Meanwhile in the old statehouse, dim as ghosts, + Sat the lawgivers of Connecticut, + Trembling beneath their legislative robes. + "It is the Lord's Great Day! Let us adjourn," + Some said; and then as if with one accord + All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport. + +[Illustration: The Dark Day In Connecticut.] + + He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice + The intolerable hush. "This well may be + The Day of Judgment which the world awaits; + But be it so or not, I only know + My present duty, and my Lord's command + To occupy till he come. So at the post + Where he hath set me in his providence, + I choose, for one, to meet him face to face,-- + No faithless servant frightened from my task, + But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls; + And therefore, with all reverence, I would say, + Let God do his work, we will see to ours.-- + Bring in the candles!" And they brought them in. + Then, by the flaring lights the Speaker read, + Albeit with husky voice and shaking hands, + An act to amend an act to regulate + The shad and alewive fisheries. Whereupon + Wisely and well spake Abraham Davenport, + Straight to the question, with no figures of speech + Save the ten Arab signs, yet not without + The shrewd, dry humor natural to the man-- + His awestruck colleagues listening all the while, + Between the pauses of his argument, + To hear the thunder of the wrath of God + Break from the hollow trumpet of the cloud. + And there he stands in memory to this day, + Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen + Against the background of unnatural dark, + A witness to the ages as they pass, + That simple duty hath no place for fear. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 39: From "Abraham Davenport," by John Greenleaf Whittier.] + + + + +TWO INTERESTING LETTERS + + +I. COLUMBUS TO THE LORD TREASURER OF SPAIN + + BARCELONA, 1493. + + TO LORD RAPHAEL SANCHEZ:-- + +Knowing that it will afford you pleasure to learn that I have brought my +undertaking to a successful termination, I have decided upon writing you +this letter to acquaint you with all the events which have occurred in +my voyage, and the discoveries which have resulted from it. + +[Illustration] + +Thirty-three days after my departure from Cadiz I reached the Indian +sea, where I discovered many islands, thickly peopled, of which I took +possession without resistance in the name of our most illustrious +monarchs, by public proclamation and with unfurled banners. To the first +of these islands, which is called by the Indians Guanahani, I gave the +name of the blessed Saviour, relying upon whose protection I had reached +this as well as the other islands. + +As soon as we arrived at that, which as I have said was named Juana, I +proceeded along its coast a short distance westward, and found it to be +so large and apparently without termination, that I could not suppose it +to be an island, but the continental province of Cathay. + +In the meantime I had learned from some Indians whom I had seized, that +the country was certainly an island; and therefore I sailed toward the +east, coasting to the distance of three hundred and twenty-two miles, +which brought us to the extremity of it; from this point I saw lying +eastwards another island, fifty-four miles distant from Juana, to which +I gave the name Espanola. + +All these islands are very beautiful, and distinguished by a diversity +of scenery; they are filled with a great variety of trees of immense +height, and which I believe to retain their foliage in all seasons; for +when I saw them they were as verdant and luxurious as they usually are +in Spain in the month of May,--some of them were blossoming, some +bearing fruit, and all flourishing in the greatest perfection, according +to their respective stages of growth, and the nature and quality of +each; yet the islands are not so thickly wooded as to be impassable. The +nightingale and various birds were singing in countless numbers, and +that in November, the month in which I arrived there. + +The inhabitants are very simple and honest, and exceedingly liberal with +all they have; none of them refusing anything he may possess when he is +asked for it, but on the contrary inviting us to ask them. They exhibit +great love toward all others in preference to themselves: they also give +objects of great value for trifles, and content themselves with very +little or nothing in return. + +I, however, forbade that these trifles and articles of no value (such as +pieces of dishes, plates, and glass, keys, and leather straps) should be +given to them, although, if they could obtain them, they imagined +themselves to be possessed of the most beautiful trinkets in the world. + +It even happened that a sailor received for a leather strap as much gold +as was worth three golden nobles, and for things of more trifling value +offered by our men, the Indian would give whatever the seller required. + +On my arrival I had taken some Indians by force from the first island +that I came to, in order that they might learn our language. These men +are still traveling with me, and although they have been with us now a +long time, they continue to entertain the idea that I have descended +from heaven; and on our arrival at any new place they published this, +crying out immediately with a loud voice to the other Indians, "Come, +come and look upon beings of a celestial race": upon which both men and +women, children and adults, young men and old, when they got rid of the +fear they at first entertained, would come out in throngs, crowding the +roads to see us, some bringing food, others drink, with astonishing +affection and kindness. + +Although all I have related may appear to be wonderful and unheard of, +yet the results of my voyage would have been more astonishing if I had +had at my disposal such ships as I required. But these great and +marvelous results are not to be attributed to any merit of mine, but to +the holy Christian faith, and to the piety and religion of our +Sovereigns; for that which the unaided intellect of man could not +compass, the spirit of God has granted to human exertions, for God is +wont to hear the prayers of his servants who love his precepts even to +the performance of apparent impossibilities. + +Thus it has happened to me in the present instance, who have +accomplished a task to which the powers of mortal men had never hitherto +attained; for if there have been those who have anywhere written or +spoken of these islands, they have done so with doubts and conjectures, +and no one has ever asserted that he has seen them, on which account +their writings have been looked upon as little else than fables. + +Therefore let the king and queen, our princes and their most happy +kingdoms, and all the other provinces of Christendom, render thanks to +our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who has granted us so great a victory +and such prosperity. + + CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. + + EXPRESSION: In connection with this letter, read again the story of + the discovery as narrated by Washington Irving, page 43. In what + respect do the two accounts differ? + + +II. GOVERNOR WINSLOW TO A FRIEND IN ENGLAND + + DEAR FRIEND,-- + +Although I received no letter from you by this ship, yet forasmuch as I +know you expect the performance of my promise, which was to write to you +truly and faithfully of all things, I have therefore, at this time, sent +unto you accordingly, referring you for further satisfaction to our more +large relations. + +[Illustration] + +You shall understand that in this little time that a few of us have been +here, we have built seven dwelling houses and four for the use of the +plantation, and have made preparation for divers others. + +We set the last spring some twenty acres of Indian corn, and sowed some +six acres of barley and pease; and according to the manner of the +Indians, we manured our ground with herrings, or rather shads, which we +have in great abundance, and take with great ease at our doors. + +Our corn did prove well; and God be praised, we had a good increase of +Indian corn, and our barley indifferent good, but our pease not worth +the gathering, for we feared they were too late sown. They came up very +well, and blossomed; but the sun parched them in the blossom. + +Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that +so we might, after a special manner, rejoice together after we had +gathered the fruit of our labors. They four, in one day, killed as much +fowl as with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At +which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of +the Indians coming among us, and among the rest their greatest king, +Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and +feasted; and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to +the plantation, and bestowed upon our governor, and upon the captain and +others. And although it be not always so plentiful as it was at this +time with us, yet by the goodness of God we are so far from want, that +we often wish you partakers of our plenty.... + +We have often found the Indians very faithful in their covenant of peace +with us, very loving, and ready to pleasure us. We often go to them, and +they come to us.... Yea, it hath pleased God so to possess the Indians +with a fear of us and love to us, that not only the greatest king +amongst them, called Massasoit, but also all the princes and peoples +round about us, have either made suit to us, or been glad of any +occasion to make peace with us; so that seven of them at once have sent +their messengers to us to that end.... They are a people without any +religion or knowledge of any God, yet very trusty, quick of +apprehension, ripe-witted, just.... + +Now, because I expect you coming unto us, with other of our friends, I +thought good to advertise you of a few things needful. Be careful to +have a very good bread room to put your biscuits in. Let not your meat +be dry-salted; none can better do it than the sailors. Let your meal be +so hard trod in your cask that you shall need an adz or hatchet to work +it out with. Trust not too much on us for corn at this time, for we +shall have little enough till harvest. + +Build your cabins as open as you can, and bring good store of clothes +and bedding with you. Bring every man a musket or fowling piece. Let +your piece be long in the barrel, and fear not the weight of it, for +most of our shooting is from stands. + +I forbear further to write for the present, hoping to see you by the +next return. So I take my leave, commending you to the Lord for a safe +conduct unto us, resting in him, + + Your loving friend, + EDWARD WINSLOW. + + _Plymouth in New England, + this 11th of December, 1621._ + + + + +POEMS OF HOME AND COUNTRY + + +I. "THIS IS MY OWN, MY NATIVE LAND"[40] + + 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 concentered all in self, + Living, shall forfeit fair renown, + And, doubly dying, shall go down + To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, + Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. + + O Caledonia! stern and wild, + Meet nurse for a poetic child! + Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, + Land of the mountain and the flood, + Land of my sires! what mortal hand + Can e'er untie the filial band, + That knits me to thy rugged strand? + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 40: From the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," by Sir Walter Scott.] + + +II. THE GREEN LITTLE SHAMROCK OF IRELAND[41] + + There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle, + 'Twas St. Patrick himself, sure, that set it; + And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile, + And with dew from his eye often wet it. + It thrives through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland, + And its name is the dear little shamrock of Ireland-- + The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, + The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland. + + This dear little plant still grows in our land, + Fresh and fair as the daughters of Erin, + Whose smiles can bewitch, whose eyes can command, + In what climate they chance to appear in; + For they shine through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland, + Just like their own dear little shamrock of Ireland-- + The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, + The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland. + + This dear little plant that springs from our soil, + When its three little leaves are extended, + Betokens that each for the other should toil, + And ourselves by ourselves be befriended,-- + And still through the bog, through the brake, through the mireland, + From one root should branch like the shamrock of Ireland-- + The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, + The sweet little, green little shamrock of Ireland! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 41: By Andrew Cherry, an Irish poet (1762-1812).] + + +III. MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS[42] + + My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; + My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, + Chasing the wild deer and following the roe-- + My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. + + Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North, + The birthplace of valor, the country of worth; + Wherever I wander, wherever I rove, + The hills of the Highlands forever I love. + + Farewell to the mountains high covered with snow; + Farewell to the straths and green valleys below; + Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods; + Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods. + + My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; + My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer, + Chasing the wild deer and following the roe-- + My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 42: By Robert Burns, a famous Scottish poet (1759-1796).] + + +IV. THE FATHERLAND[43] + + Where is the true man's fatherland? + Is it where he by chance is born? + Doth not the yearning spirit scorn + In such scant borders to be spanned? + Oh, yes! his fatherland must be + As the blue heaven wide and free! + + Is it alone where freedom is, + Where God is God, and man is man? + Doth he not claim a broader span + For the soul's love of home than this? + Oh, yes! his fatherland must be + As the blue heaven wide and free! + + Where'er a human heart doth wear + Joy's myrtle wreath or sorrow's gyves, + Where'er a human spirit strives + After a life more true and fair, + There is the true man's birthplace grand, + His is a world-wide fatherland! + + Where'er a single slave doth pine, + Where'er one man may help another,-- + Thank God for such a birthright, brother,-- + That spot of earth is thine and mine! + There is the true man's birthplace grand, + His is a world-wide fatherland! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 43: By James Russell Lowell.] + + +V. HOME[44] + + But where to find that happiest spot below, + Who can direct when all pretend to know? + The shuddering tenant of the frigid zone + Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own-- + Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, + And his long nights of revelry and ease; + The naked negro, panting at the line, + Boasts of his golden sands and palmy wine, + Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, + And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. + Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, + His first, best country, ever is at home. + And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, + And estimate the blessings which they share, + Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find + An equal portion dealt to all mankind; + As different good, by art or nature given, + To different nations makes their blessing even. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 44: By Oliver Goldsmith.] + + EXPRESSION: Read all of these poems silently with a view towards + sympathizing with the feelings which they express. Now read each + one separately, and compare them, one with another. What is the + leading sentiment inculcated by each? Which poem appeals the most + strongly to your own emotions? + + WORD STUDY: _Caledonia_, _shamrock_, _brake_, _Erin_, _gyves_, + _yearning_, _frigid_, _tepid_, _patriot_. + + + + +THE AGE OF COAL[45] + + +Come with me, in fancy, back to those early ages of the world, +thousands, yes millions, of years ago. Stand with me on some low ancient +hill, which overlooks the flat and swampy lands that are to become the +American continent. + +Few heights are yet in sight. The future Rocky Mountains lie still +beneath the surface of the sea. The Alleghanies are not yet heaved up +above the level surface of the ground, for over them are spread the +boggy lands and thick forests of future coal fields. The Mississippi +River is not yet in existence, or if in existence, is but an unimportant +little stream. + +Below us, as we stand, we can see a broad and sluggish body of water, in +places widening into shallow lakes. On either side of this stream, vast +forests extend in every direction as far as the horizon, bounded on one +side by the distant ocean, clothing each hilly rise, and sending islets +of matted trees and shrubs floating down the waters. + +Strange forests these are to us. No oaks, no elms, no beeches, no +birches, no palms, nor many colored wild flowers are there. The +deciduous plants so common in our modern forests are nowhere found; but +enormous club mosses are seen, as well as splendid pines and an +abundance of ancient trees with waving, frondlike leaves. Here also are +graceful tree ferns and countless ferns of lower growth filling up all +gaps. + +[Illustration] + +No wild quadrupeds are yet in existence, and the silent forests are +enlivened only by the stirring of the breeze among the trees or the +occasional hum of monstrous insects. But upon the margin of yonder +stream a huge four-footed creature creeps slowly along. He looks much +like a gigantic salamander, and his broad, soft feet make deep +impressions in the yielding mud. + +No sunshine but only a gleam of light can creep through the misty +atmosphere. The earth seems clothed in a garment of clouds, and the air +is positively reeking with damp warmth, like the air of a hothouse. This +explains the luxuriant growth of foliage. + +Could we thus stand upon the hilltops and keep watch through the long +coal building ages, we should see generation after generation of forest +trees and underwoods living, withering, dying, falling to earth. Slowly +a layer of dead and decaying vegetation thus collects, over which the +forest flourishes still--tree for tree, and shrub for shrub, springing +up in the place of each one that dies. + +Then, after a very long time, through the working of mighty underground +forces, the broad lands sink a little way--perhaps only a few feet--and +the ocean tide rushes in, overwhelming the forests, trees and plants and +living creatures, in one dire desolation.--No, not dire, for the ruin is +not objectless or needless. It is all a part of the wonderful +preparation for the life of man on earth. + +Under the waves lie the overwhelmed forests--prostrate trunks and broken +stumps in countless numbers overspreading the gathered vegetable remains +of centuries before. Upon these the sea builds a protective covering of +sand or mud, more or less thick. Here sea creatures come to live, fishes +swim hungrily to and fro, and shellfishes die in the mud which, by and +by, is to become firm rock with stony animal remains embedded in it. + +After a while the land rises again to its former position. There are +bare, sandy flats as before, but they do not remain bare. Lichens and +hardier plants find a home. The light spores of the ancient forest trees +take root and grow, and luxuriant forests, like those of old, spring +again into being. Upon river and lake bottoms, and over the low damp +lands, rich layers of decaying vegetation again collect. Then once more +the land sinks and the ocean tide pours in; and another sandy or muddy +stratum is built up on the overflowed lands. Thus the second layer of +forest growth is buried like the first, and both lie quietly through the +long ages following, hidden from sight, slowly changing in their +substance from wood to shining coal. + + * * * * * + +Thus time after time, the land rose and sank, rose and sank, again and +again. Not the whole continent is believed to have risen or sunk at the +same time; but here at one period, there at another period, the +movements probably went on. + +The greater part of the vegetable mass decayed slowly; but when the +final ruin of the forest came, whole trunks were snapped off close to +the roots and flung down. These are now found in numbers on the tops of +the coal layers, the barks being flattened and changed to shining black +coal. + +How wonderful the tale of those ancient days told to us by these buried +forests! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 45: By Agnes Giberne, an English writer on scientific +subjects.] + + + + +SOMETHING ABOUT THE MOON[46] + + +I am going to say a few words about the moon; but there are many matters +relating to her of great interest which I must leave untouched, for the +simple reason that there is not room to speak of them in a single paper. + +Thus the moon's changes of shape from the horned moon to the half, and +thence to the full moon, with the following changes from full to half, +and so to the horned form again, are well worth studying; but I should +want all the space I am going to occupy, merely to explain properly +those changes alone. + +So a study of the way in which the moon rules the tides would, I am +sure, interest every thoughtful reader; but there is not room for it +here. + +Let us now turn to consider the moon; not as the light which makes our +nights beautiful, nor as the body which governs the mighty ocean in its +tidal sway, but as another world,--the companion planet of the earth. + +It has always been a matter not only of the deepest curiosity, but of +the greatest scientific import, whether other planets, and particularly +our own satellite, are inhabited or exhibit any traces whatever of +animal or vegetable life. + +One or two astronomers have claimed the discovery of vegetation on the +moon's surface by reason of the periodic appearance of a greenish tint; +but as the power of the telescope can bring the moon to within only +about a hundred and twenty miles of us, these alleged appearances cannot +be satisfactorily verified. + +The moon is a globe, two thousand one hundred and sixty-five miles in +diameter; very much less, therefore, than our earth, which has a +diameter of about seven thousand nine hundred and twenty miles. + +Thus the moon's surface is less than one thirteenth of the earth's. +Instead of two hundred millions of square miles as the earth has, the +moon has only about fourteen millions of square miles, or about the same +surface as North and South America together, without the great American +Islands of the Arctic regions. + +The volume of the earth exceeds that of the moon more than forty-nine +times. But the moon's substance is somewhat lighter. Thus the mass, or +quantity of matter in the moon, instead of being a forty-ninth part of +the earth's, is about an eighty-first part. + +This small companion world travels like our own earth around the sun, at +a distance of ninety-three millions of miles. The path of the moon +around the sun is, in fact, so nearly the same as that of the earth that +it would be almost impossible to distinguish one from the other, if they +were both drawn on a sheet of paper a foot or so in diameter. + +You may perhaps be surprised to find me thus saying that the moon +travels round the sun, when you have been accustomed to hear that the +moon travels round the earth. In reality, however, it is round the sun +the moon travels, though certainly the moon and the earth circle around +each other. + +The distance of the moon from the earth is not always the same; but the +average, or mean distance, amounts to about two hundred and thirty-eight +thousand eight hundred and twenty-eight miles. This is the distance +between the centers of the two globes. With this distance separating +them, the companion worlds--the earth and the moon--circle round each +other, as they both travel round the central sun. + +But now you will be curious to learn whether our companion planet, the +moon, really presents the appearance of a world, when studied with a +powerful telescope. + +If we judged the moon in this way, we should say that she is not only +not inhabited by living creatures, but that she could not possibly be +inhabited. What is it that makes our earth a fit abode for us who live +upon it? Her surface is divided into land and water. We live on the +land; but without the water we should perish. + +Were there no water, there would be no clouds, no rain, no snow, no +rivers, brooks, or other streams. Without these, there could be no +vegetable life; and without vegetable life, there could be no animal +life, even if animals themselves could live without water. + +Yet again, the earth's globe is enwrapped in an atmosphere,--the air we +breathe. Without this air, neither animals nor vegetables could live. I +might go further and show other features of the earth, which we are at +present justified in regarding as essential to the mere existence, and +still more to the comfort, of creatures living upon the earth. + +Now, before the telescope was invented, many astronomers believed that +there was water on the moon, and probably air also. But as soon as +Galileo examined the moon with his largest telescope (and a very weak +telescope it was), he found that whatever the dark parts of the moon may +be, they certainly are not seas. + +More and more powerful telescopes have since been turned on the moon. It +has been shown that there are not only no seas, but no rivers, pools, +lakes, or other water surfaces. No clouds are ever seen to gather over +any part of the moon's surface. In fact, nothing has ever yet been seen +on the moon which suggests in the slightest degree the existence of +water on her surface, or even that water could at present possibly +exist; and, of course, without water it is safe to infer there could be +neither vegetable nor animal existence. + +It would seem, then, that apart from the absence of air on the moon, +there is such an entire absence of water that no creatures now living on +the earth could possibly exist upon the moon. Certainly man could not +exist there, nor could animals belonging to any except the lowest orders +of animal life. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 46: By Richard A. Proctor, a noted English astronomer +(1837-1888).] + + + + +THE COMING OF THE BIRDS[47] + + + I know the trusty almanac + Of the punctual coming-back, + On their due days, of the birds. + I marked them yestermorn, + A flock of finches darting + Beneath the crystal arch, + Piping, as they flew, a march,-- + Belike the one they used in parting + Last year from yon oak or larch; + Dusky sparrows in a crowd, + Diving, darting northward free, + Suddenly betook them all, + Every one to his hole in the wall, + Or to his niche in the apple tree. + + I greet with joy the choral trains + Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes. + Best gems of Nature's cabinet, + With dews of tropic morning wet, + Beloved of children, bards and Spring, + O birds, your perfect virtues bring, + Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight, + Your manners for the heart's delight; + Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof, + Here weave your chamber weather-proof, + Forgive our harms, and condescend + To man, as to a lubber friend, + And, generous, teach his awkward race + Courage and probity and grace! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 47: By Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American poet and philosopher +(1803-1882).] + + + + +THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS[48] + + +The coming and going of the birds is more or less a mystery and a +surprise. We go out in the morning, and no thrush or finch is to be +heard; we go out again, and every tree and grove is musical; yet again, +and all is silent. Who saw them come? Who saw them depart? + +This pert little winter wren, for instance, darting in and out the +fence, diving under the rubbish here and coming up yards away,--how does +he manage with those little circular wings to compass degrees and zones, +and arrive always in the nick of time? Last August I saw him in the +remotest wilds of the Adirondacks, impatient and inquisitive as usual; a +few weeks later, on the Potomac, I was greeted by the same hardy little +busybody. Does he travel by easy stages from bush to bush and from wood +to wood? or has that compact little body force and courage to brave the +night and the upper air, and so achieve leagues at one pull? + +And yonder bluebird, with the earth tinge on his breast and the sky +tinge on his back,--did he come down out of heaven on that bright March +morning when he told us so softly and plaintively that spring had come? +Indeed, there is nothing in the return of the birds more curious and +suggestive than in the first appearance, or rumors of the appearance, of +this little bluecoat. + +The bird at first seems a mere wandering voice in the air; one hears its +call or carol on some bright March morning, but is uncertain of its +source or direction; it falls like a drop of rain when no cloud is +visible; one looks and listens, but to no purpose. The weather changes, +perhaps a cold snap with snow comes on, and it may be a week before I +hear the note again, and this time or the next perchance see the bird +sitting on a stake in the fence, lifting his wing as he calls cheerily +to his mate. Its notes now become daily more frequent; the birds +multiply, and, flitting from point to point, call and warble more +confidently and gleefully. + +Not long after the bluebird comes the robin, sometimes in March, but in +most of the Northern states April is the month of the robin. In large +numbers they scour the field and groves. You hear their piping in the +meadow, in the pasture, on the hillside. Walk in the woods, and the dry +leaves rustle with the whir of their wings, the air is vocal with their +cheery call. In excess of joy and vivacity, they run, leap, scream, +chase each other through the air, diving and sweeping among the trees +with perilous rapidity. + +In that free, fascinating, half work and half play pursuit,--sugar +making,--a pursuit which still lingers in many parts of New York, as in +New England, the robin is one's constant companion. When the day is +sunny and the ground bare, you meet him at all points and hear him at +all hours. At sunset, on the tops of the tall maples, with look +heavenward, and in a spirit of utter abandonment, he carols his simple +strain. And sitting thus amid the stark, silent trees, above the wet, +cold earth, with the chill of winter in the air, there is no fitter or +sweeter songster in the whole round year. It is in keeping with the +scene and the occasion. How round and genuine the notes are, and how +eagerly our ears drink them in! The first utterance, and the spell of +winter is thoroughly broken, and the remembrance of it afar off. + +Another April bird, which makes her appearance sometimes earlier and +sometimes later than Robin, and whose memory I fondly cherish, is the +Phoebe bird, the pioneer of the fly catchers. In the inland fanning +districts, I used to notice her, on some bright morning about Easter +Day, proclaiming her arrival with much variety of motion and attitude, +from the peak of the barn or hay shed. As yet, you may have heard only +the plaintive, homesick note of the bluebird, or the faint trill of the +song sparrow; and Phoebe's clear, vivacious assurance of her veritable +bodily presence among us again is welcomed by all ears. At agreeable +intervals in her lay she describes a circle, or an ellipse in the air, +ostensibly prospecting for insects, but really, I suspect, as an +artistic flourish, thrown in to make up in some way for the deficiency +of her musical performance. + +Another April comer, who arrives shortly after robin redbreast, with +whom he associates both at this season and in the autumn, is the +golden-winged woodpecker, _alias_ "high-hole," _alias_ "flicker," +_alias_ "yarup." He is an old favorite of my boyhood, and his note to me +means very much. He announces his arrival by a long, loud call, repeated +from the dry branch of some tree, or a stake in the fence,--a thoroughly +melodious April sound. I think how Solomon finished that beautiful +climax on spring, "And the voice of the turtle is heard in the land," +and see that a description of spring in this farming country, to be +equally characteristic, should culminate in like manner, "And the call +of the high-hole comes up from the wood." + +The song sparrow, that universal favorite and firstling of the spring, +comes before April, and its simple strain gladdens all hearts. + +May is the month of the swallows and the orioles. There are many other +distinguished arrivals, indeed, nine tenths of the birds are here by the +last week in May, yet the swallows and orioles are the most conspicuous. +The bright plumage of the latter seems really like an arrival from the +tropics. I see them flash through the blossoming trees, and all the +forenoon hear their incessant warbling and wooing. The swallows dive and +chatter about the barn, or squeak and build beneath the eaves; the +partridge drums in the fresh sprouting woods; the long, tender note of +the meadow lark comes up from the meadow; and at sunset, from every +marsh and pond come the ten thousand voices of the hylas. May is the +transition month, and exists to connect April and June, the root with +the flower. + +With June the cup is full, our hearts are satisfied, there is no more to +be desired. The perfection of the season, among other things, has +brought the perfection of the song and plumage of the birds. The master +artists are all here, and the expectations excited by the robin and the +song sparrow are fully justified. The thrushes have all come; and I sit +down upon the first rock, with hands full of the pink azalea, to listen. +In the meadows the bobolink is in all his glory; in the high pastures +the field sparrow sings his breezy vesper hymn; and the woods are +unfolding to the music of the thrushes. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 48: By John Burroughs.] + + EXPRESSION: Read again the four descriptive selections beginning on + page 179. Observe the wide difference in style of composition. Of + the three prose extracts, which is the most interesting to you? + Give reasons why this is so. Which passages require the most + animation in reading? Read these passages so that those who are + listening to you may fully appreciate their meaning. + + + + +THE POET AND THE BIRD + + +I. THE SONG OF THE LARK + +On a pleasant evening in late summer the poet Percy Bysshe Shelley and +his wife, Mary Shelley, were walking near the city of Leghorn in Italy. +The sky was cloudless, the air was soft and balmy, and the earth seemed +hushed into a restful stillness. The green lane along which they were +walking was bordered by myrtle hedges, where crickets were softly +chirping and fireflies were already beginning to light their lamps. From +the fields beyond the hedges the grateful smell of new-mown hay was +wafted, while in the hazy distance the church towers of the city glowed +yellow in the last rays of the sun, and the gray-green sea rippled +softly in the fading light of day. + +Suddenly, from somewhere above them, a burst of music fell upon their +ears. It receded upward, but swelled into an ecstatic harmony, with +fluttering intervals and melodious swervings such as no musician's art +can imitate. + +"What is that?" asked the poet, as the song seemed to die away in the +blue vault of heaven. + +"It is a skylark," answered his wife. + +"Nay," said the poet, his face all aglow with the joy of the moment; "no +mere bird ever poured forth such strains of music as that. I think, +rather, that it is some blithe spirit embodied as a bird." + +"Let us imagine that it is so," said Mary. "But, hearken. It is singing +again, and soaring as it sings." + +"Yes, and I can see it, too, like a flake of gold against the pale +purple of the sky. It is so high that it soars in the bright rays of the +sun, while we below are in the twilight shade. And now it is descending +again, and the air is filled with its song. Hark to the rain of melody +which it showers down upon us." + +They listened enraptured, while the bird poured forth its flood of song. +When at length it ceased, and the two walked home in the deepening +twilight, the poet said:-- + +"We shall never know just what it was that sang so gloriously. But, +Mary, what do you think is most like it?" + +"A poet," she answered. "There is nothing so like it as a poet wrapt in +his own sweet thoughts and singing till the world is made to sing with +him for very joy." + +"And I," said he, "would compare it to a beautiful maiden singing for +love in some high palace tower, while all who hear her are bewitched by +the enchanting melody." + +"And I," said she, "would compare it to a red, red rose sitting among +its green leaves and giving its sweet perfumes to the summer breezes." + +"You speak well, Mary," said he; "but let me make one other comparison. +Is it not like a glowworm lying unseen amid the grass and flowers, and +all through the night casting a mellow radiance over them and filling +them with divine beauty?" + +[Illustration: The Song of the Lark.] + +"I do not like the comparison so well," was the answer. "Yet, after all, +there is nothing so like it as a poet--as yourself, for instance." + +"No poet ever had its skill, because no poet was ever so free from +care," said Shelley, sadly. "It is like an unbodied joy floating +unrestrained whithersoever it will. Ah, Mary, if I had but half the +gladness that this bird or spirit must know, I would write such poetry +as would bewitch the world, and all men would listen, entranced, to my +song." + +That night the poet could not sleep for thinking of the skylark's song. +The next day he sat alone in his study, putting into harmonious words +the thoughts that filled his mind. In the evening he read to Mary a new +poem, entitled "To a Skylark." It was full of the melody inspired by the +song of the bird. Its very meter suggested the joyous flight, the +fluttering pauses, the melodious swervings, the heavenward ascent of the +bird. No poem has ever been written that is fuller of beautiful images +and sweet and joyous harmonies. + +Have you ever listened to the song of a bird and tried to attune your +own thoughts to its unrestrained and untaught melodies? There are no +true skylarks in America, and therefore you may never be able to repeat +the experience of the poet or fully to appreciate the "harmonious +madness" of his matchless poem; for no other bird is so literally the +embodiment of song as the European skylark. + + * * * * * + +But now let us read Shelley's inimitable poem. + + +II. TO A SKYLARK + + Hail to thee, blithe spirit! + Bird thou never wert, + That from heaven, or near it, + Pourest thy full heart + In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. + + Higher still and higher + From the earth thou springest + Like a cloud of fire; + The blue deep thou wingest, + And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. + + In the golden lightning + Of the sunken sun, + O'er which clouds are bright'ning, + Thou dost float and run, + Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. + + The pale purple even + Melts around thy flight; + Like a star of heaven, + In the broad daylight + Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight. + + Keen as are the arrows + Of that silver sphere, + Whose intense lamp narrows + In the white dawn clear, + Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. + + All the earth and air + With thy voice is loud, + As, when night is bare, + From one lonely cloud + The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. + + What thou art we know not; + What is most like thee? + From rainbow clouds there flow not + Drops so bright to see, + As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. + + Like a poet hidden + In the light of thought, + Singing hymns unbidden, + Till the world is wrought + To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not; + + Like a highborn maiden + In a palace tower, + Soothing her love-laden + Soul in secret hour + With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower; + + Like a glowworm golden + In a dell of dew, + Scattering unbeholden + Its aerial hue + Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from the view; + + Like a rose embowered + In its own green leaves, + By warm winds deflowered, + Till the scent it gives + Make faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged thieves. + + Sound of vernal showers + On the twinkling grass, + Rain-awakened flowers, + All that ever was + Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass. + + Teach us, sprite or bird, + What sweet thoughts are thine: + I have never heard + Praise of love or wine + That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. + + Chorus Hymeneal, + Or triumphal chaunt, + Matched with thine would be all + But an empty vaunt, + A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. + + What objects are the fountains + Of thy happy strain? + What fields, or waves, or mountains? + What shapes of sky or plain? + What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain? + + With thy clear keen joyance + Languor cannot be: + Shadow of annoyance + Never came near thee: + Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. + + Waking or asleep, + Thou of death must deem + Things more true and deep + Than we mortals dream, + Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? + + We look before and after, + And pine for what is not; + Our sincerest laughter + With some pain is fraught: + Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. + + Yet if we could scorn + Hate, and pride, and fear; + If we were things born + Not to shed a tear, + I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. + + Better than all measures + Of delightful sound, + Better than all treasures + That in books are found, + Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! + + Teach me half the gladness + That thy brain must know, + Such harmonious madness + From thy lips would flow, + The world should listen then, as I am listening now. + + + + +HARK, HARK! THE LARK[49] + + + Hark, hark! The lark at Heaven's gate sings, + And Phoebus 'gins arise, + His steeds to water at those springs + On chaliced flowers that lies; + And winking Mary-buds begin + To ope their golden eyes; + With everything that pretty is, + My lady sweet, arise; + Arise, arise! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 49: From "Cymbeline," by William Shakespeare.] + + EXPRESSION: Read Shelley's poem with care, trying to understand and + interpret the poet's enthusiasm as he watched the flight of the + lark. Point out the five passages in the poem which seem the most + striking or the most beautiful. Memorize Shakespeare's song and + repeat it in a pleasing manner. Point out any peculiarities you may + notice. + + + + +ECHOES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION + + +I. PATRICK HENRY'S FAMOUS SPEECH[50] + +Mr. President, it is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of +hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to +the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the +part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? +Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, +and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their +temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, +I am willing to know the whole truth, to know the worst, and to provide +for it. + +I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that lamp is the +lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the +past. And, judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in +the conduct of the British ministry, for the last ten years, to justify +those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves +and the house? + +Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately +received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer +not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this +gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike +preparations which cover our waters, and darken our land. + +Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? +Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be +called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These +are the implements of war and subjugation,--the last arguments to which +kings resort. + +I ask, sir, what means this martial array, if its purpose be not to +force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive +for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world, to +call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has +none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are +sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British +ministry have been so long forging. + +And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have +been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer +upon the subject? Nothing. We have held the subject up in every light of +which it is capable, but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to +entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find, which have +not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive +ourselves longer. + +Sir, we have done everything that could be done to avert the storm which +is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated, we have +supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and have +implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the +ministry and Parliament. + +Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances have produced +additional violence and insult, our supplications have been disregarded, +and we have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne. In +vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and +reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. + +If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate these +inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we +mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so +long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until +the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained,--we must fight. I +repeat it, sir, we must fight. An appeal to arms, and to the God of +hosts, is all that is left us. + +They tell us, sir, that we are weak,--unable to cope with so formidable +an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, +or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a +British guard shall be stationed in every house? + +Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire +the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and +hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound +us hand and foot? + +Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the +God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed +in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we +possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against +us. + +Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God +who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up +friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the +strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, +sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now +too late to retire from the contest. + +There is no retreat, but in submission and slavery. Our chains are +forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is +inevitable; and let it come!--I repeat it, sir, let it come. It is vain, +sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace! but there +is no peace. The war is actually begun. + +The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the +clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why +stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they +have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the +price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what +course others may take; but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me +death! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 50: Before the Virginia Convention, March 25, 1775.] + + +II. MARION'S MEN[51] + + We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, + His friends and merry men are we, + And when the troop of Tarleton rides, + We burrow in the cypress tree. + + The turfy hummock is our bed, + Our home is in the red deer's den, + Our roof, the treetop overhead, + For we are wild and hunted men. + + We fly by day and shun its light, + But, prompt to strike the sudden blow, + We mount and start with early night, + And through the forest track our foe. + + And soon he hears our chargers leap, + The flashing saber blinds his eyes, + And, ere he drives away his sleep + And rushes from his camp, he dies. + + Free bridle bit, good gallant steed, + That will not ask a kind caress, + To swim the Santee at our need, + When on his heels the foemen press,-- + + The true heart and the ready hand, + The spirit stubborn to be free, + The trusted bore, the smiting brand,-- + And we are Marion's men, you see. + +[Illustration: Marion's Men.] + + Now light the fire and cook the meal, + The last perhaps that we shall taste; + I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal, + And that's a sign we move in haste. + + He whistles to the scouts, and hark! + You hear his order calm and low, + Come, wave your torch across the dark, + And let us see the boys that go. + + Now pile the brush and roll the log-- + Hard pillow, but a soldier's head + That's half the time in brake and bog + Must never think of softer bed. + + The owl is hooting to the night, + The cooter crawling o'er the bank, + And in that pond the flashing light + Tells where the alligator sank. + + * * * * * + + What! 'tis the signal! start so soon? + And through the Santee swamps so deep, + Without the aid of friendly moon, + And we, Heaven help us! half asleep? + + But courage, comrades! Marion leads, + The Swamp Fox takes us out to-night; + So clear your swords and spur your steeds, + There's goodly chance, I think, of fight. + + We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, + We leave the swamp and cypress tree, + Our spurs are in our coursers' sides, + And ready for the strife are we. + + The Tory's camp is now in sight, + And there he cowers within his den; + He hears our shouts, he dreads the fight, + He fears, and flies from Marion's men. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 51: By William Gilmore Simms, an American author (1806-1870).] + + +III. IN MEMORY OF GEORGE WASHINGTON[52] + +How, my fellow-citizens, shall I single to your grateful hearts his +preeminent worth? Where shall I begin in opening to your view a +character throughout sublime? Shall I speak of his warlike achievements, +all springing from obedience to his country's will--all directed to his +country's good? + +Will you go with me to the banks of the Monongahela, to see our youthful +Washington supporting, in the dismal hour of Indian victory, the +ill-fated Braddock and saving, by his judgment and his valor, the +remains of a defeated army, pressed by the conquering savage foe? Or +when, oppressed America nobly resolving to risk her all in defense of +her violated right, he was elevated by the unanimous vote of Congress to +the command of her armies? + +Will you follow him to the high grounds of Boston, where to an +undisciplined, courageous, and virtuous yeomanry his presence gave the +stability of system and infused the invincibility of love of country? Or +shall I carry you to the painful scenes of Long Island, York Island, and +New Jersey, when, combating superior and gallant armies, aided by +powerful fleets and led by chiefs high in the roll of fame, he stood the +bulwark of our safety, undismayed by disasters, unchanged by change of +fortune? + +Or will you view him in the precarious fields of Trenton, where deep +gloom, unnerving every arm, reigned triumphant through our thinned, +worn-down, unaided ranks, to himself unknown? Dreadful was the night. It +was about this time of winter; the storm raged; the Delaware, rolling +furiously with floating ice, forbade the approach of man. + +Washington, self-collected, viewed the tremendous scene. His country +called; unappalled by surrounding dangers, he passed to the hostile +shore; he fought, he conquered. The morning sun cheered the American +world. Our country rose on the event, and her dauntless chief, pursuing +his blow, completed in the lawns of Princeton what his vast soul had +conceived on the shores of the Delaware. + +Thence to the strong grounds of Morristown he led his small but gallant +band; and through an eventful winter, by the high effort of his genius, +whose matchless force was measurable only by the growth of difficulties, +he held in check formidable hostile legions, conducted by a chief +experienced in the arts of war, and famed for his valor on the ever +memorable Heights of Abraham, where fell Wolfe, Montcalm, and since our +much-lamented Montgomery, all covered with glory. In this fortunate +interval, produced by his masterly conduct, our fathers, ourselves, +animated by his resistless example, rallied around our country's +standard, and continued to follow her beloved chief through the various +and trying scenes to which the destinies of our union led. + +Who is there that has forgotten the vales of Brandywine, the fields of +Germantown, or the plains of Monmouth? Everywhere present, wants of +every kind obstructing, numerous and valiant armies encountering, +himself a host, he assuaged our sufferings, limited our privations, and +upheld our tottering Republic. Shall I display to you the spread of the +fire of his soul, by rehearsing the praises of the hero of Saratoga and +his much-loved compeer of the Carolinas? No; our Washington wears not +borrowed glory. To Gates, to Greene, he gave without reserve the +applause due to their eminent merit; and long may the chiefs of Saratoga +and of Eutaw receive the grateful respect of a grateful people. + +Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and light to his most distant +satellites; and combining the physical and moral force of all within his +sphere, with irresistible weight, he took his course, commiserating +folly, disdaining vice, dismaying treason, and invigorating despondency; +until the auspicious hour arrived when united with the intrepid forces +of a potent and magnanimous ally, he brought to submission the since +conqueror of India; thus finishing his long career of military glory +with a luster corresponding to his great name, and in this, his last act +of war, affixing the seal of fate to our nation's birth.... + +First in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen, +he was second to none in the humble and endearing scenes of private +life. Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere, uniform, dignified, +and commanding, his example was edifying to all around him, as were the +effects of that example lasting. + +To his equals he was condescending; to his inferiors, kind; and to the +dear object of his affections, exemplarily tender. Correct throughout, +vice shuddered in his presence, and virtue always felt his fostering +hand; the purity of his private character gave effulgence to his public +virtues. His last scene comported with the whole tenor of his life. +Although in extreme pain, not a sigh, not a groan, escaped him; and with +undisturbed serenity he closed his well-spent life. Such was the man +America has lost! Such was the man for whom our nation mourns! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 52: By Henry Lee of Virginia. Extract from an oration +delivered in the House of Representatives, 1799.] + + + + +THREE GREAT AMERICAN POEMS + + +I + +One day when Dr. Peter Bryant of Cummington, Massachusetts, was looking +through his writing desk, he found a small package of papers on which +some verses were written. He recognized the neat, legible handwriting as +that of his son, and he paused to open the papers and read. Presently, +he called aloud to his wife, "Here, Sallie, just listen to this poem +which Cullen has written!" + +He began to read, and as he read, the proud mother listened with tears +in her eyes. "Isn't that grand?" she cried. "I've always told you that +Cullen would be a poet. And now just think what a pity it is that he +must give up going to Yale College and settle down to the study of law!" + +"Yes, wife," responded Dr. Bryant, "it is to be regretted. But people +with small means cannot always educate their children as they wish. A +lawyer is a better breadwinner than most poets are, and I am satisfied +that our boy will be a successful lawyer." + +"Of course he will," said Mrs. Bryant; "he will succeed at anything he +may undertake. But that poem--why, Wordsworth never wrote anything half +so grand or beautiful. What is the title?" + +"Thanatopsis." + +"Thanatopsis? I wonder what it means." + +"It is from two Greek words, and means 'A View of Death.' I have half a +notion to take the poem to Boston with me next winter. I want to show it +to my friend Mr. Philips." + +"Oh, do; and take some of Cullen's other poems with it. Perhaps he might +think some of them good enough to publish." + +Dr. Peter Bryant was at that time a member of the senate in the +Massachusetts general assembly. When the time came for the meeting of +the assembly he went up to Boston, and he did not forget to take several +of his son's poems with him. The _North American Review_ was a great +magazine in those days, and Dr. Bryant was well acquainted with Mr. +Philips, one of its editors. He called at the office of the _Review_, +and not finding Mr. Philips, he left the package of manuscript with his +name written upon it. + +When Mr. Philips returned he found the package, and after reading the +poems concluded that Dr. Bryant had written "Thanatopsis," and that the +others were probably by his son Cullen. + +"It is a remarkable poem--a remarkable poem," he said, as he showed it +to his two fellow-editors. "We have never published anything better in +the _Review_," he said, and he began to read it to them. + +When he had finished, one of them, Richard Henry Dana, who was himself a +poet, said doubtingly: + +"Mr. Philips, you have been imposed upon. There is no person in America +who can write a poem like that." + +"Ah, but I know the man who wrote it," answered Mr. Philips. "He is in +the state senate, and he isn't a man who would impose upon any person." + +"Well, I must have a look at the man who can write such lines as those," +said Mr. Dana. + +He went to the statehouse, and to the senate chamber, and asked to see +Senator Bryant. A tall, gray-bearded man was pointed out to him. Mr. +Dana looked at him for a few minutes and then said to himself, "He has a +fine head; but he is not the man who could write 'Thanatopsis'" So +without speaking to him he returned to his office. + +Mr. Philips, still full of enthusiasm, soon had an interview with Dr. +Bryant, and learned the truth in regard to the authorship of the poem. +It was printed in the next issue of the _North American Review_. It was +the first great poem ever produced in America; it was the work of a +young man not eighteen years of age, and it is without doubt the +greatest poem ever written by one so young. But let us read it. + + +THANATOPSIS + + To him who in the love of Nature holds + Communion with her visible forms, she speaks + A various language; for his gayer hours + She has a voice of gladness, and a smile + And eloquence of beauty, and she glides + Into his darker musings with a mild + And healing sympathy, that steals away + Their sharpness ere he is aware. When thoughts + Of the last bitter hour come like a blight + Over thy spirit, and sad images + Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, + And breathless darkness, and the narrow house, + Make thee to shudder, and grow sick at heart, + Go forth, under the open sky, and list + To Nature's teachings, while from all around-- + Earth and her waters, and the depths of air-- + Comes a still voice: + + Yet a few days, and thee + The all-beholding sun shall see no more + In all his course; nor yet in the cold ground, + Where thy pale form was laid, with many tears, + Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall exist + Thy image. Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim + Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again; + And, lost each human trace, surrendering up + Thine individual being, shalt thou go + To mix forever with the elements, + To be a brother to the insensible rock + And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain + Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak + Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold. + + Yet not to thine eternal resting place + Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish + Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down + With patriarchs of the infant world--with kings, + The powerful of the earth--the wise, the good, + Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, + All in one mighty sepulcher. The hills + Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun--the vales + Stretching in pensive quietness between-- + The venerable woods--rivers that move + In majesty, and the complaining brooks + That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, + Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste-- + Are but the solemn decorations all + Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun, + The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, + Are shining on the sad abodes of death, + Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread + The globe are but a handful to the tribes + That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings + Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, + Or lose thyself in the continuous woods + Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound + Save his own dashings,--yet the dead are there; + And millions in those solitudes, since first + The flight of years began, have laid them down + In their last sleep,--the dead reign there alone. + So shalt thou rest, and what if thou withdraw + In silence from the living, and no friend + Take note of thy departure? All that breathe + Will share thy destiny. The gay will laugh + When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care + Plod on, and each one as before will chase + His favorite phantom; yet all these shall leave + Their mirth and their employments and shall come + And make their bed with thee. As the long train + Of ages glides away, the sons of men, + The youth in life's fresh spring, and he who goes + In the full strength of years, matron and maid, + The speechless babe, and the gray-headed man, + Shall one by one be gathered to thy side + By those who in their turn shall follow them. + + So live, that when thy summons comes to join + The innumerable caravan that moves + To the pale realms of shade, 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. + + EXPRESSION: Observe that this poem is written in blank verse. In + what respects does it differ from other forms of verse? Read it + with great care, observing the marks of punctuation and giving to + each passage the proper inflections and emphasis. Compare it with + some other poems you have read. + + +II + +One Sunday evening, in the summer of 1848, Edgar Allan Poe was visiting +at the house of a friend in New York city. The day was warm, and the +windows of the conservatory where he was sitting were thrown wide open +to admit the breeze. Mr. Poe was very despondent because of many sorrows +and disappointments, and he was plainly annoyed by the sound of some +near-by church bells pealing the hour of worship. + +"I have made an agreement with a publisher to write a poem for him," he +said, "but I have no inspiration for such a task. What shall I do?" + +His friend Mrs. Shew gave him an encouraging reply, and invited him to +drink tea with her. Then she placed paper and ink before him and +suggested that, if he would try to write, the required inspiration would +come. + +"No," he answered; "I so dislike the noise of bells to-night, I cannot +write. I have no subject--I am exhausted." + +Mrs. Shew then wrote at the top of the sheet of paper, _The Bells, by E. +A. Poe_, and added a single line as a beginning: + + "The bells, the little silver bells." + +The poet accepted the suggestion, and after some effort finished the +first stanza. Then Mrs. Shew wrote another line: + + "The heavy iron bells." + +This idea was also elaborated by Mr. Poe, who copied off the two stanzas +and entitled them _The Bells, by Mrs. M. L. Shew_. He went home, +pondering deeply upon the subject; the required inspiration was not long +lacking; and in a few days the completed poem was ready to be submitted +to the publisher. + + +THE BELLS + + Hear the sledges with the bells-- + Silver bells! + What a world of merriment their melody foretells! + How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, + In the icy air of night! + While the stars that oversprinkle + All the heavens seem to twinkle + With a crystalline delight, + Keeping time, time, time, + In a sort of Runic rime, + To the tintinnabulation that so musically swells + From the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells-- + From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. + + Hear the mellow wedding bells-- + Golden bells! + What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! + Through the balmy air of night + How they ring out their delight! + From the molten-golden notes, + And all in tune, + What a liquid ditty floats + To the turtledove that listens while she gloats + On the moon! + + Oh, from out the sounding cells, + What a gush of euphony voluminously wells! + How it swells! + How it dwells + On the Future! how it tells + Of the rapture that impels + To the swinging and the ringing + Of the bells, bells, bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells-- + To the riming and the chiming of the bells! + + Hear the loud alarum bells-- + Brazen bells! + What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells! + In the startled ear of night + How they scream out their affright! + Too much horrified to speak, + They can only shriek, shriek, + Out of tune, + In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, + In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire + Leaping higher, higher, higher, + With a desperate desire + And a resolute endeavor + Now--now to sit or never, + By the side of the pale-faced moon. + Oh, the bells, bells, bells, + What a tale their terror tells + Of despair! + How they clang and crash and roar! + What a horror they outpour + On the bosom of the palpitating air! + Yet the ear it fully knows, + By the twanging + And the clanging, + How the danger ebbs and flows; + Yet the ear distinctly tells, + In the jangling + And the wrangling, + How the danger sinks and swells, + By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, + Of the bells, + Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells! + In the clamor and the clangor of the bells. + + Hear the tolling of the bells-- + Iron bells! + What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! + In the silence of the night, + How we shiver with affright + At the melancholy menace of their tone! + For every sound that floats + From the rust within their throats + Is a groan. + And the people--ah, the people-- + They that dwell up in the steeple, + All alone, + And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, + In that muffled monotone, + Feel a glory in so rolling + On the human heart a stone: + They are neither man nor woman; + They are neither brute nor human; + They are ghouls: + And their king it is who tolls; + And he rolls, rolls, rolls, + Rolls + A paean from the bells! + And his merry bosom swells + With the paean of the bells, + And he dances and he yells, + Keeping time, time, time, + In a sort of Runic rime, + To the paean of the bells-- + Of the bells: + Keeping time, time, time, + In a sort of Runic rime, + To the throbbing of the bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells-- + To the sobbing of the bells; + Keeping time, time, time, + As he knells, knells, knells, + In a happy Runic rime, + To the rolling of the bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells,-- + To the tolling of the bells-- + Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, + Bells, bells, bells-- + To the moaning and the groaning of the bells! + + +III + +In the early part of the nineteenth century Fitz-Greene Halleck was +regarded as one of the greatest of American poets. He is now, however, +remembered chiefly as the author of a single poem, "Marco Bozzaris," +published in 1827. This poem has been described, perhaps justly, as "the +best martial lyric in the English language." + +It was written at a time when the people of Greece were fighting for +their independence; and it celebrates the heroism of the young Greek +patriot, Marco Bozzaris, who was killed while leading a desperate but +successful night attack upon the Turks, August 20, 1823. As here +presented, it is slightly abridged. + + +MARCO BOZZARIS + + At midnight, in his guarded tent, + The Turk was dreaming of the hour + When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, + Should tremble at his power: + In dreams, through camp and court, he bore + The trophies of a conqueror; + In dreams his song of triumph heard; + Then wore his monarch's signet ring: + Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king; + As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, + As Eden's garden bird. + + At midnight, in the forest shades, + Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, + True as the steel of their tried blades, + Heroes in heart and hand. + There had the Persian's thousands stood, + There had the glad earth drunk their blood + On old Plataea's day; + And now there breathed that haunted air + The sons of sires who conquered there, + With arm to strike and soul to dare, + As quick, as far as they. + + An hour passed on--the Turk awoke; + That bright dream was his last; + He woke--to hear his sentries shriek, + "To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!" + He woke--to die midst flame, and smoke, + And shout, and groan, and saber stroke, + And death shots falling thick and fast + As lightnings from the mountain cloud; + And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, + Bozzaris cheer his band: + "Strike--till the last armed foe expires; + Strike--for your altars and your fires; + Strike--for the green graves of your sires; + God--and your native land!" + + They fought--like brave men, long and well; + They piled that ground with Moslem slain, + They conquered--but Bozzaris fell, + Bleeding at every vein. + His few surviving comrades saw + His smile when rang their proud hurrah, + And the red field was won; + Then saw in death his eyelids close + Calmly, as to a night's repose, + Like flowers at set of sun. + + * * * * * + + Bozzaris! with the storied brave + Greece nurtured in her glory's time, + Rest thee--there is no prouder grave, + Even in her own proud clime. + She wore no funeral weeds for thee, + Nor bade the dark hearse wave its plume + Like torn branch from death's leafless tree + In sorrow's pomp and pageantry, + The heartless luxury of the tomb; + But she remembers thee as one + Long-loved and for a season gone. + For thee her poet's lyre is wreathed, + Her marble wrought, her music breathed; + For thee she rings the birthday bells; + Of thee her babes' first lisping tells; + For thine her evening prayer is said + At palace couch and cottage-bed.... + And she, the mother of thy boys, + Though in her eye and faded cheek + Is read the grief she will not speak, + The memory of her buried joys, + And even she who gave thee birth, + Will, by their pilgrim-circled hearth, + Talk of thy doom without a sigh; + For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's: + One of the few, the immortal names, + That were not born to die. + + EXPRESSION: Talk with your teacher about these three poems, and the + proper manner of reading each. Learn all that you can about their + authors. + + + + +THE INDIAN[53] + + +Think of the country for which the Indians fought! Who can blame them? +As Philip looked down from his seat on Mount Hope and beheld the lovely +scene which spread beneath at a summer sunset,--the distant hilltops +blazing with gold, the slanting beams streaming across the waters, the +broad plains, the island groups, the majestic forests,--could he be +blamed, if his heart burned within him, as he beheld it all passing, by +no tardy process, from beneath his control, into the hands of the +stranger? + +As the river chieftains--the lords of the waterfalls and the +mountains--ranged this lovely valley, can it be wondered at, if they +beheld with bitterness the forest disappearing beneath the settler's +ax--the fishing places disturbed by his sawmills? + +Can we not imagine the feelings, with which some strong-minded savage +chief, who should have ascended the summit of the Sugarloaf Mountain, in +company with a friendly settler, contemplating the progress already made +by the white man and marking the gigantic strides with which he was +advancing into the wilderness, should fold his arms, and say:-- + +"White man, there is an eternal war between me and thee. I quit not the +land of my fathers, but with my life. In those woods where I bent my +youthful bow, I will still hunt the deer; over yonder waters I will +still glide unrestrained in my bark canoe; by those dashing waterfalls I +will still lay up my winter's store of food; on these fertile meadows I +will still plant my corn. + +"Stranger! the land is mine. I understand not these paper rights. I gave +not my consent, when, as thou sayest, these broad regions were +purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. They could sell what was +theirs; they could sell no more. How could my father sell that which the +Great Spirit sent me into the world to live upon? He knew not what he +did. + +"The stranger came, a timid suppliant; he asked to lie down on the red +man's bearskin, and warm himself at the red man's fire, and have a +little piece of land to raise corn for his women and children. Now he is +become strong and mighty and bold, and spreads out his parchment over +the whole, and says, 'It is mine!' + +"Stranger, there is no room for us both. The Great Spirit has not made +us to live together. There is poison in the white man's cup; the white +man's dog barks at the red man's heels. + +"If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I fly? Shall I +go to the south, and dwell among the graves of the Pequots? Shall I +wander to the west? The fierce Mohawk--the man-eater--is my foe. Shall +I fly to the east? The great water is before me. No, stranger! Here have +I lived, and here will I die; and if here thou abidest, there is eternal +war between me and thee. + +"Thou hast taught me thy arts of destruction; for that alone I thank +thee. And now take heed to thy steps--the red man is thy foe. + +"When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle past thee. When +thou liest down by night, my knife shall be at thy throat. The noonday +sun shall not discover thy enemy; and the darkness of midnight shall not +protect thy rest. Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood. +Thou shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will strew it with ashes. Thou +shalt go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after with the +scalping knife. Thou shalt build, and I will burn--till the white man or +the Indian perish from the land." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 53: By Edward Everett, an American statesman and orator +(1794-1865).] + + EXPRESSION: This selection and also the selections on pages 202, + 209, and 231 are fine examples of American oratory, such as was + practiced by the statesmen and public speakers of the earlier years + of our republic. Learn all that you can about Patrick Henry, Daniel + Webster, Edward Everett, Theodore Parker, and other eminent + orators. Before attempting to read this selection aloud, read it + silently and try to understand every statement or allusion + contained in it. Call to mind all that you have learned in your + histories or elsewhere concerning the Indians and their treatment + by the American colonists. Now read with energy and feeling each + paragraph of this extract from Mr. Everett's oration. Try to make + your hearers understand and appreciate the feelings which are + expressed. + + + + +NATIONAL RETRIBUTION[54] + + +Do you know how empires find their end? + +Yes. The great states eat up the little. As with fish, so with nations. + +Come with me! Let us bring up the awful shadows of empires buried long +ago, and learn a lesson from the tomb. + +Come, old Assyria, with the Ninevitish dove upon thy emerald crown! What +laid thee low? + +Assyria answers: "I fell by my own injustice. Thereby Nineveh and +Babylon came with me to the ground." + +O queenly Persia, flame of the nations! Wherefore art thou so fallen? +thou who trod the people under thee, bridged the Hellespont with ships, +and poured thy temple-wasting millions on the western world? + +Persia answers: "Because I trod the people under me, because I bridged +the Hellespont with ships, and poured my temple-wasting millions on the +western world, I fell by my own misdeeds!" + +And thou, muselike Grecian queen, fairest of all thy classic sisterhood +of states, enchanting yet the world with thy sweet witchery, speaking in +art, and most seductive in song, why liest thou there with thy beauteous +yet dishonored brow reposing on thy broken harp? + +Greece answers: "I loved the loveliness of flesh, embalmed in Parian +stone. I loved the loveliness of thought, and treasured that more than +Parian speech. But the beauty of justice, the loveliness of love, I trod +down to earth. Lo! therefore have I become as those barbarian states, +and one of them." + +O manly, majestic Rome, with thy sevenfold mural crown all broken at thy +feet, why art thou here? 'Twas not injustice brought thee low, for thy +great Book of Law is prefaced with these words, "Justice is the +unchanging, everlasting will to give each man his right." It was not the +saint's ideal. It was the hypocrite's pretense. + +And Rome says: "I made iniquity my law! I trod the nations under me! +Their wealth gilded my palaces, where now thou mayst see the fox and +hear the owl. Wicked men were my cabinet counselors. The flatterer +breathed his poison in my ear. Millions of bondmen wet the soil with +tears and blood! Do you not hear it crying yet to God? Lo here have I my +recompense, tormented with such downfalls as you see. + +"Go back and tell the newborn child who sitteth on the Alleghanies, +laying his either hand upon a tributary sea,--tell him there are rights +which States must keep, or they shall suffer punishment. Tell him there +is a God who hurls to earth the loftiest realm that breaks his just, +eternal law. Warn the young empire, that he come not down, dim and +dishonored, to my shameful tomb. Tell him that Justice is the +unchanging, everlasting will, to give each man his right. I knew this +law. I broke it. Bid him keep it, and be forever safe." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 54: By Theodore Parker, an eminent American clergyman and +author (1810-1860).] + + + + +WHO ARE BLESSED[55] + + +And seeing the multitudes, he went up into a mountain: and when he was +set, his disciples came unto him. + +And he opened his mouth, and taught them, saying: + +Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. + +Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. + +Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. + +Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for +they shall be filled. + +Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. + +Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. + +Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of +God. + +Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness' sake: for +theirs is the kingdom of heaven. + +Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall +say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. + +Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for +so persecuted they the prophets which were before you. + +Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savor, +wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to +be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men. + +Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be +hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a +candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let +your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and +glorify your Father which is in heaven.... + +Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for +a tooth: but I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever +shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if +any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have +thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with +him twain. Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow +of thee turn not thou away. + +Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and +hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that +curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which +despitefully use you, and persecute you; that ye may be the children of +your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the +evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 55: From the Gospel of Matthew.] + + + + +LITTLE GEMS FROM THE OLDER POETS + + +I. THE NOBLE NATURE[56] + + It is not growing like a tree + In bulk doth make man better be; + Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, + To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sear. + A lily of a day + Is fairer far in May, + Although it fall and die that night,-- + It was the plant and flower of light. + In small proportions we just beauties see; + And in short measures life may perfect be. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 56: By Ben Jonson (1573-1637).] + + +II. A CONTENTED MIND[57] + + I weigh not fortune's frown or smile; + I joy not much in earthly joys; + I seek not state, I seek not style; + I am not fond of fancy's toys; + I rest so pleased with what I have, + I wish no more, no more I crave. + + I quake not at the thunder's crack; + I tremble not at noise of war; + I swound not at the news of wrack; + I shrink not at a blazing star; + I fear not loss, I hope not gain, + I envy none, I none disdain. + + I feign not friendship, where I hate; + I fawn not on the great in show; + I prize, I praise a mean estate-- + Neither too lofty nor too low; + This, this is all my choice, my cheer-- + A mind content, a conscience clear. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 57: By Joshua Sylvester (1563-1618).] + + +III. A HAPPY LIFE[58] + + How happy is he born and taught + That serveth not another's will; + Whose armor is his honest thought, + And simple truth his utmost skill; + + Whose passions not his masters are, + Whose soul is still prepared for death, + Not tied unto the world with care + Of public fame, or private breath; + + Who envies none that chance doth raise, + Nor vice; who never understood + How deepest wounds are given by praise; + Nor rules of state, but rules of good. + + This man is freed from servile bands + Of hope to rise or fear to fall; + Lord of himself, though not of lands, + And having nothing, yet hath all. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 58: By Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1639).] + + +IV. SOLITUDE[59] + + Happy the man, whose wish and care + A few paternal acres bound, + Content to breathe his native air + In his own ground. + + Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, + Whose flocks supply him with attire; + Whose trees in summer yield him shade, + In winter, fire. + + Blest, who can unconcern'dly find + Hours, days, and years slide soft away + In health of body, peace of mind, + Quiet by day, + + Sound sleep by night; study and ease + Together mixt, sweet recreation, + And innocence, which most does please + With meditation. + + Thus let me live, unseen, unknown; + Thus unlamented let me die; + Steal from the world, and not a stone + Tell where I lie. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 59: By Alexander Pope (1688-1744).] + + +V. A WISH[60] + + Mine be a cot beside the hill; + A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear; + A willowy brook that turns a mill + With many a fall shall linger near. + + The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch + Shall twitter from her clay-built nest; + Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, + And share my meal, a welcome guest. + + Around my ivied porch shall spring + Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew; + And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing + In russet gown and apron blue. + + The village church among the trees, + Where first our marriage vows were given, + With merry peals shall swell the breeze + And point with taper spire to Heaven. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 60: By Samuel Rogers (1763-1855).] + + + EXPRESSION: Which of these poems do you like best? Give reasons for + your preference. What sentiment is emphasized by all of them? What + other pleasant ideas of life are expressed? What mental pictures + are called up by reading the fourth poem? the fifth? What traits of + character are alluded to in the first poem? the second? Now read + each poem aloud, giving to each line and each stanza the thought + which was in the author's mind when he wrote it. + + + + +HOW KING ARTHUR GOT HIS NAME[61] + + +One day at sunset, Snowbird, the young son of a king, came over the brow +of a hill that stepped forward from a dark company of mountains and +leaned over the shoreless sea which fills the West and drowns the North. +All day he had been wandering alone, his mind heavy with wonder over +many things. He had heard strange tales of late, tales about his heroic +father and the royal clan, and how they were not like other men, but +half divine. He had heard, too, of his own destiny,--that he also was to +be a great king. What was Destiny, he wondered.... + +Then, as he wondered, he turned over and over in his mind all the names +he could think of that he might choose for his own; for the time was +come for him to put away the name of his childhood and to take on that +by which he should be known among men. + +He came over the brow of the hill, and out of the way of the mountain +wind, and, being tired, lay down among the heather and stared across the +gray wilderness of the sea. The sun set, and the invisible throwers of +the nets trailed darkness across the waves and up the wild shores and +over the faces of the cliffs. Stars climbed out of shadowy abysses, and +the great chariots of the constellations rode from the West to the East +and from the North to the South. + +His eyes closed, ... but when he opened them again, he saw a great and +kingly figure standing beside him. So great in stature, so splendid in +kingly beauty, was the mysterious one who had so silently joined him, +that he thought this must be one of the gods. + +"Do you know me, my son?" said the kingly stranger. + +The boy looked at him in awe and wonder, but unrecognizingly. + +"Do you not know me, my son?" he heard again ... "for I am your father, +Pendragon. But my home is yonder, and that is why I have come to you as +a vision in a dream ..." and, as he spoke, he pointed to the +constellation of the _Arth_, or Bear, which nightly prowls through the +vast abysses of the polar sky. + +When the boy turned his gaze from the great constellation which hung in +the dark wilderness overhead, he saw that he was alone again. While he +yet wondered in great awe at what he had seen and heard, he felt himself +float like a mist and become like a cloud, rise beyond the brows of the +hills, and ascend the invisible stairways of the sky.... + +It seemed to him thereafter that a swoon came over him, in which he +passed beyond the far-off blazing fires of strange stars. At last, +suddenly, he stood on the verge of _Arth_, _Arth Uthyr_, the Great Bear. +There he saw, with the vision of immortal, not of mortal, eyes, a +company of most noble and majestic figures seated at what he thought a +circular abyss, but which had the semblance of a vast table. Each of +these seven great knights or lordly kings had a star upon his forehead, +and these were stars of the mighty constellation of the Bear which the +boy had seen night after night from his home among the mountains by the +sea. + +It was with a burning throb at his heart that he recognized in the King +of all these kings no other than himself. + +While he looked, in amazement so great that he could hear the pulse of +his heart, as in the silence of a wood one hears the tapping of a +woodpecker, he saw this mighty phantom self rise till he stood towering +over all there, and heard a voice as though an ocean rose and fell +through the eternal silences. + +"Comrades in God," it said, "the time is come when that which is great +shall become small." + +And when the voice was ended, the mighty figure faded in the blue +darkness, and only a great star shone where the uplifted dragon helm had +brushed the roof of heaven. One by one the white lords of the sky +followed in his mysterious way, till once more were to be seen only the +stars of the Bear. + +The boy dreamed that he fell as a falling meteor, and that he floated +over land and sea as a cloud, and then that he sank as mist upon the +hills of his own land. + +A noise of wind stirred in his ears. He rose stumblingly, and stood, +staring around him. He glanced upward and saw the stars of the Great +Bear in their slow march round the Pole.... Then he remembered. + +He went slowly down the hill, his mind heavy with thought. When he was +come to his own place, lo! all the fierce chivalry of the land came out +to meet him; for the archdruid had foretold that the great King to be +had received his mystic initiation among the holy silences of the hills. + +"I am no more Snowbird, the child," the boy said, looking at them +fearless and as though already King. "Henceforth I am Arth-Urthyr,[62] +for my place is in the Great Bear which we see yonder in the north." + +So all there acclaimed him as Arthur, the wondrous one of the stars, the +Great Bear. + +"I am old," said his father, "and soon you shall be King, Arthur, my +son. So ask now a great boon of me and it shall be granted to you." + +Then Arthur remembered his dream. + +"Father and King," he said, "when I am King after you, I shall make a +new order of knights, who shall be pure as the Immortal Ones, and be +tender as women, and simple as little children. But first I ask of you +seven flawless knights to be of my chosen company. To-morrow let the +wood wrights make for me a round table, such as that where we eat our +roasted meats, but round and of a size whereat I and my chosen knights +may sit at ease." + +The king listened, and all there. + +"So be it," said the king. + +Then Arthur chose the seven flawless knights, and called them to him. +"Ye are now Children of the Great Bear," he said, "and comrades and +liegemen to me, Arthur, who shall be King of the West. + +"And ye shall be known as the Knights of the Round Table. But no man +shall make a mock of that name and live: and in the end that name shall +be so great in the mouths and minds of men that they shall consider no +glory of the world to be so great as to be the youngest and frailest of +that knighthood." + +And that is how Arthur, who three years later became King of the West, +read the rune of the stars that are called the Great Bear, and took +their name upon him, and from the strongest and purest and noblest of +the land made Knighthood, such as the world had not seen, such as the +world since has not seen. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 61: A Gaelic legend, by Fiona Macleod.] + +[Footnote 62: Pronounced _Arth-Ur_. In the ancient British language, +_Arth_ means Bear, and _Urthyr_, great, wondrous.] + + EXPRESSION: Read this selection very carefully to get at the true + meaning of each sentence and each thought. What peculiarities do + you notice in the style of the language employed? Talk about King + Arthur, and tell what you have learned elsewhere about him and his + knights of the Round Table. In what respects does this legend + differ from some other accounts of his boyhood? Now reread the + selection, picturing in your mind the peculiarities of place and + time. + + + + +ANTONY'S ORATION OVER CAESAR'S DEAD BODY[63] + + + _Antony._ Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears: + I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. + The evil that men do lives after them; + The good is oft interred with their bones; + So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutus + Hath told you Caesar was ambitious: + If it were so, it was a grievous fault, + And grievously hath Caesar answered it. + Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest-- + For Brutus is an honorable man; + So are they all, all honorable men-- + Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. + He was my friend, faithful and just to me; + But Brutus says he was ambitious, + And Brutus is an honorable man. + He hath brought many captives home to Rome, + Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; + Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? + When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept; + Ambition should be made of sterner stuff. + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, + And Brutus is an honorable man. + You all did see, that on the Lupercal, + I thrice presented him a kingly crown, + Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? + Yet Brutus says he was ambitious, + And, sure, he is an honorable man. + I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, + But here I am to speak what I do know. + You all did love him once, not without cause; + What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him? + O judgment! thou art fled to brutish beasts, + And men have lost their reason.--Bear with me; + My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, + And I must pause till it come back to me. + + But yesterday the word of Caesar might + Have stood against the world; now lies he there, + And none so poor to do him reverence. + O masters! If I were disposed to stir + Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, + I should do Brutus wrong and Cassius wrong, + Who, you all know, are honorable men. + I will not do them wrong; I rather choose + To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, + Than I will wrong such honorable men. + + But here's a parchment with the seal of Caesar, + I found it in his closet; 'tis his will. + Let but the commons hear this testament,-- + Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,-- + And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds, + And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; + Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, + And, dying, mention it within their wills, + Bequeathing it as a rich legacy + Unto their issue. + + _Citizen._ We'll hear the will: read it, Mark Antony. + + _All._ The will, the will! we will hear Caesar's will. + + _Ant._ Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; + It is not meet you know how Caesar loved you. + You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; + And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, + It will inflame you, it will make you mad. + 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; + For, if you should, oh, what would come of it! + + _Cit._ Read the will! we'll hear it, Antony! + You shall read the will! Caesar's will! + + _Ant._ Will you be patient? Will you stay awhile? + I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. + I fear I wrong the honorable men + Whose daggers have stabbed Caesar. I do fear it. + + _Cit._ They were traitors! honorable men! + + _All._ The will! the testament! + + _Ant._ You will compel me, then, to read the will? + Then make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, + And let me show you him that made the will. + Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? + + _All._ Come down. + + _2 Citizen._ Descend. You shall have leave. + +[Illustration: "You all do know this mantle."] + +(_Antony comes down from the pulpit._) + + _Ant._ If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. + You all do know this mantle; I remember + The first time ever Caesar put it on. + 'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent, + That day he overcame the Nervii. + Look! in this place, ran Cassius's dagger through; + See what a rent the envious Casca made; + Through this, the well-beloved Brutus stabbed; + And, as he plucked his cursed steel away, + Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it, + As rushing out of doors, to be resolved + If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no; + For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel.-- + Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him!-- + + This was the most unkindest cut of all; + For, when the noble Caesar saw him stab, + Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms, + Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart; + And, in his mantle muffling up his face, + Even at the base of Pompey's statua, + Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. + + Oh, what a fall was there, my countrymen! + Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, + Whilst bloody treason flourished over us. + Oh, now you weep, and I perceive you feel + The dint of pity; these are gracious drops. + Kind souls, What! weep you when you but behold + Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you here, + Here is himself, marred, as you see, with traitors. + + Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up + To such a sudden flood of mutiny. + They that have done this deed are honorable. + What private griefs they have, alas! I know not, + That made them do it; they are wise and honorable, + And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. + + I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts. + I am no orator, as Brutus is, + But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, + That love my friend; and that they know full well + That gave me public leave to speak of him. + For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, + Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, + To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; + I tell you that which you yourselves do know; + Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, + And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, + And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony + Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue + In every wound of Caesar that should move + The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 63: From "Julius Caesar" by William Shakespeare (1564-1616).] + + + + +SELECTIONS TO BE MEMORIZED + + +I. THE PRAYER PERFECT[64] + + Dear Lord! kind Lord! + Gracious Lord! I pray + Thou wilt look on all I love, + Tenderly to-day! + Weed their hearts of weariness; + Scatter every care + Down a wake of angel-wings, + Winnowing the air. + + Bring unto the sorrowing + All release from pain; + Let the lips of laughter + Overflow again; + And with all the needy + Oh, divide, I pray, + This vast treasure of content + That is mine to-day! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 64: From "Rhymes of Childhood," by James Whitcomb Riley, +copyright, 1890. Used by special permission of the publishers, The +Bobbs-Merrill Company.] + + +II. BE JUST AND FEAR NOT[65] + + Be just and fear not; + Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, + Thy God's, and truth's. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 65: By William Shakespeare.] + + +III. IF I CAN LIVE[66] + + If I can live + To make some pale face brighter and to give + A second luster to some tear-dimmed eye, + Or e'en impart + One throb of comfort to an aching heart, + Or cheer some wayworn soul in passing by; + If I can lend + A strong hand to the falling, or defend + The right against one single envious strain, + My life, though bare, + Perhaps, of much that seemeth dear and fair + To us of earth, will not have been in vain. + The purest joy, + Most near to heaven, far from earth's alloy, + Is bidding cloud give way to sun and shine; + And 'twill be well + If on that day of days the angels tell + Of me, "She did her best for one of Thine." + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 66: Author unknown.] + + +IV. THE BUGLE SONG[67] + + The splendor falls on castle walls + And snowy summits old in story: + The long light shakes across the lakes, + And the wild cataract leaps in glory. + Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, + Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. + + O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, + And thinner, dearer, farther going! + O sweet and far from cliff and scar + The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! + Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: + Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. + + O love, they die in yon rich sky, + They faint on hill or field or river; + Our echoes roll from soul to soul, + And grow for ever and for ever. + Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, + And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 67: By Alfred Tennyson.] + + +V. THE NINETIETH PSALM + +Lord, thou hast been our dwelling place in all generations. + +Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the +earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God. + +Thou turns man to destruction; and sayest, Return, ye children of men. + +For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, +and as a watch in the night. + +Thou carried them away as with a flood; they are as a sleep: in the +morning they are like grass which groweth up. + +In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up; in the evening it is cut +down, and withereth. + +For we are consumed by thine anger, and by thy wrath are we troubled. + +Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light +of thy countenance. + +For all our days are passed away in thy wrath; we spend our years as a +tale that is told. + +The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of +strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labor and +sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. + +Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, so is +thy wrath. + +So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto +wisdom.... + +Oh, satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all +our days.... + +Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their +children. + + +VI. RECESSIONAL[68] + + 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, + A humble and a contrite heart. + 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. + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote 68: By Rudyard Kipling.] + + + + +PROPER NAMES + + + Ad i ron'dacks + + AE t[=o]'li a + + Ag a mem'non + + A lon'zo + + A m[=e]'li a + + An a t[=o]'li a + + An'to ny + + A pol'lo + + Ar'g[=i]ve + + Ar'thur + + Assisi ([:a]s s[=e] z[=e]) + + As s[)y]r'i a + + Bar'ba ra + + Ba v[=a]'ri a + + Ber'lin + + Bevagno (ba v[=a]n'yo) + + Boetia (be [=o]'sh[)i] a) + + Bo'na parte + + Bozzaris (bo z[)a]r'is) + + Brit'ta ny + + Bru'tus + + Bun'yan + + Bur'gun dy + + Bysshe (b[)i]sh) + + Ca'diz + + Cal e do'ni a + + Ca thay' + + Cau'dle + + Charn'wood + + Chat ta hoo'chee + + Chi[+s]'_w_ick + + Col i s[=e]'um + + Cop'per field + + C[=o]v'er ley + + Cr[=e]a'kle + + Cris'sa + + D[=a]'na + + D[)a]n'ube + + D[=a]v'en port + + Delft + + Domitian (do m[)i]sh'i an) + + Eb en [=e]'zer + + Espanola ([)e]s pan y[=o]'la) + + Eu'taw + + Fer nan'do + + F[)e]z'z[)i] wig + + Fran'cis + + Gal i l[=e]'o + + Get'tys burg + + Gib'son + + Gu[:a] n[:a] h[)a]'n[:i] + + Hab'er sham + + H[=a]'man + + H[:a]m'elin + + Har'le quin + + H[)e]l'las + + Hel'les pont + + Hu'bert + + Ja m[=a]_i_'ca + + Je m[=i]'ma + + John'son + + Juana (hw[:a]'na) + + Knick'erbock er + + La n_i_[=e]r' + + Lannes (l[:a]n) + + Leg'horn + + Locks'ley + + Lor raine' + + Mag ne'si a + + M[)a]r'i on + + Mas'sa soit + + M[)i]c_h_'ael mas + + Mon'mouth + + Mont calm' + + Mon te bel'lo + + Mont g[:o]m'er y + + Na p[=o]'le on + + Need'wood + + Nic_h_'o las + + Nin'e veh + + Or'e gon + + O res't[=e]s + + Pal'las + + Phoe'bus + + Pinzon (p[=e]n th[=o]n') + + Pla tae'a + + Po to'mac + + Pro vence' (-v[)a]ns) + + R[)a]ph'a el + + R[)a]t'is bon + + Rieti (r[=e] [)e]'t[=e]) + + Rog'er + + Rouen (r[=o][=o] [:a]n') + + Sa'lem + + San'c_h_ez + + San Sal va dor' + + San tee' + + Sar a to'ga + + Sed'ley + + Shel'ley + + Spoun'cer + + T[=o]'bit + + T[=o]'phet + + Tul'l[)i] ver + + T[=y]re + + Um'br[)i] a + + V[)a]l'en t[=i]ne + + Wake' field + + Y[+s]'a bel + + + + +LIST OF AUTHORS + +(Place of birth in parentheses. Title of one noted book in italics. +Title of most famous poem in quotation marks.) + + +_Browning, Robert._ English poet. _The Ring and the Book._ (Born near +London.) Lived in Italy. 1812-1889. + +_Bryant, William Cullen._ American poet and journalist. "Thanatopsis." +(Massachusetts.) New York. 1794-1878. + +_Buckley, Arabella B._ (_Mrs. Fisher_). English writer on popular +science. (Brighton, England.) 1840----. + +_Bunyan, John._ English preacher and writer. _Pilgrim's Progress._ +(Bedford.) London. 1628-1688. + +_Burns, Robert._ Scottish poet. "Tam O'Shanter." (Alloway.) Dumfries. +1759-1796. + +_Campbell, Thomas._ Scottish poet. "Hohenlinden." (Glasgow.) 1777-1844. + +_Canton, William._ English journalist and writer. 1845----. + +_Carnegie (k[:a]r n[)e]g'[)i]), Andrew._ American manufacturer and +philanthropist. (Scotland.) New York. 1837----. + +_Cherry, Andrew._ Irish poet and dramatist. _All for Fame._ (Ireland.) +1762-1812. + +_Collins, William._ English poet. (Chichester.) 1721-1759. + +_Columbus, Christopher._ The discoverer of America. (Genoa, Italy.) +Spain. 1446(?)-1506. + +_Cook, Eliza._ English poet. "The Old Arm-Chair." 1818-1889. + +_Dickens, Charles._ English novelist. _David Copperfield._ (Portsmouth.) +London. 1812-1870. + +_Domett (d[)o]m'et), Alfred._ English poet and statesman. "Christmas +Hymn." 1811-1887. + +_Dumas (d[:u] m[:a]'), Alexandre._ French novelist and dramatist. _The +Count of Monte Cristo._ 1802-1870. + +_Eliot, George (Mrs. Mary Ann Evans Cross)._ English novelist. _The Mill +on the Floss._ 1819-1880. + +_Emerson, Ralph Waldo._ American philosopher and poet. _Essays._ +(Boston.) 1803-1882. + +_Everett, Edward._ American statesman and orator. _Orations and +Speeches._ (Massachusetts.) 1794-1865. + +_Fields, James T._ American publisher and author. (New Hampshire.) +Massachusetts. 1817-1881. + +_Giberne, Agnes._ English writer on scientific subjects. + +_Goldsmith, Oliver._ English poet and novelist. _Vicar of Wakefield._ +(Ireland.) 1728-1774. + +_Halleck, Fitz-Greene._ American poet. "Marco Bozzaris." (Connecticut.) +1790-1867. + +_Hawthorne, Nathaniel._ American novelist. _The Wonder Book._ +(Massachusetts.) 1804-1864. + +_Henry, Patrick._ American patriot. (Virginia.) 1736-1799. + +_Herrick, Robert._ English poet. 1591-1674. + +_Holmes, Oliver Wendell._ American author. _Autocrat of the Breakfast +Table._ (Massachusetts.) 1809-1894. + +_Hugo, Victor._ French novelist and poet. 1802-1885. + +_Hunt, Leigh (James Henry Leigh Hunt)._ English essayist and poet. "Abou +ben Adhem." 1784-1859. + +_Irving, Washington._ American prose writer. _The Sketch Book._ (New +York.) 1783-1859. + +_Jerrold, Douglas William._ English humorist. _Mrs. Caudle's Curtain +Lectures._ (London.) 1803-1857. + +_Jonson, Ben._ English dramatist. 1573-1637. + +_Kipling, Rudyard._ English writer. _The Jungle Book._ (Bombay, India.) +England. 1865----. + +_Lamb, Charles._ English essayist. (London.) 1775-1834. + +_Lanier, Sidney._ American musician and author. _Poems._ (Georgia.) +Maryland. 1842-1881. + +_Lee, Henry._ American general, father of Robert E. Lee. (Virginia.) +1756-1818. + +_Lincoln, Abraham._ Sixteenth president of the United States. +(Kentucky.) Illinois. 1809-1865. + +_Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth._ American poet. _Poems._ (Maine.) +Massachusetts. 1807-1882. + +_Lowell, James Russell._ American poet and essayist. (Massachusetts.) +1819-1891. + +_Macleod, Fiona (True name William Sharp)._ Scottish poet and +story-writer. 1856-1905. + +_Mitchell, Donald G._ American essayist. _Reveries of a Bachelor._ +(Connecticut.) 1822-1908. + +_Parker, Theodore._ American clergyman and author. (Massachusetts.) +1810-1860. + +_Poe, Edgar Allan._ American poet and story-writer. "The Raven." +(Massachusetts.) Virginia. 1809-1849. + +_Pope, Alexander._ English poet. (London.) 1688-1744. + +_Proctor, Richard A._ English astronomer. 1837-1888. + +_Riley, James Whitcomb._ American poet. (Indiana.) 1852----. + +_Rogers, Samuel._ English poet. (London.) 1763-1855. + +_Ryan, Abram J._ American clergyman and poet. (Virginia.) Georgia; +Kentucky. 1839-1886. + +_Scott, Sir Walter._ Scottish poet and novelist. _Ivanhoe._ (Edinburgh.) +1771-1832. + +_Shakespeare, William._ The greatest of English dramatists. +(Stratford-on-Avon.) 1564-1616. + +_Sharp, William._ See Macleod, Fiona. + +_Shelley, Percy Bysshe (b[)i]sh)._ English poet. _Poems._ 1792-1822. + +_Simms, William Gilmore._ American novelist and poet. (South Carolina.) +1806-1870. + +_Sophocles (s[)o]f'o kl[=e]z)._ Greek tragic poet. 495-406 B.C. + +_Sylvester, Joshua._ English poet. 1563-1618. + +_Tennyson, Alfred._ English poet. _In Memoriam._ (Lincolnshire.) +1809-1892. + +_Thackeray, William Makepeace._ English novelist and critic. (Calcutta, +India.) London. 1811-1863. + +_Timrod, Henry._ American poet. (South Carolina.) 1829-1867. + +_Whitman, Walt._ American poet. _Leaves of Grass._ (New York.) +Washington, D.C.; New Jersey. 1819-1892. + +_Whittier, John Greenleaf._ American poet. _Poems._ (Massachusetts.) +1807-1892. + +_Winslow, Edward._ Governor of Plymouth colony. (Worcestershire, Eng.) +Plymouth, Massachusetts. 1595-1655. + +_Wotton, Sir Henry._ English poet. 1568-1639. + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Eighth Reader, by James Baldwin and Ida C. 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