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diff --git a/old/51707-0.txt b/old/51707-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index aed859e..0000000 --- a/old/51707-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9387 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Third Reader, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Third Reader - The Ontario Readers - -Author: Various - -Release Date: April 9, 2016 [EBook #51707] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIRD READER *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - The Ontario Readers. - - THIRD READER. - - AUTHORIZED FOR USE IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS - OF ONTARIO BY THE MINISTER OF - EDUCATION. - - TORONTO: - THE W. J. GAGE COMPANY (LIMITED). - - Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the - Office of the Minister of Agriculture by the Minister of - Education for Ontario, in the year of our Lord one thousand - eight hundred and eighty-five. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -The plan of the Third Reader is the same as that of the Second, with -the exception that a few historical lessons have been introduced, and -two lessons which may serve as an introduction to Physical Science. -The botanical lessons supplement those given in the Second Reader. -These, and the lessons on Canadian trees, and all lessons relating to -things in nature, should be made the subjects of conversation between -the teacher and his class, and should form a basis for scientific -instruction. The pupils should be led to study nature directly. To this -end they should be required to obtain (wherever possible) the natural -objects which are described in the lessons, and to examine them, and to -form opinions for themselves concerning them. - -Similarly, every lesson should form the subject of conversation--before -reading, during the progress of the reading, and after reading:--the -teacher eliciting from his pupils clear statements of their knowledge -of it, correcting any wrong notions they may have of it, throwing -them back upon their own experience or reading, and leading them to -observe, compare, and judge, and to state in words the results of their -observations, comparisons, and judgments. Some of these statements -should be written on the blackboard, and then be made the subject -of critical conversation; others might be written by the pupils at -their desks, and afterwards be reviewed in class. In this incidental -teaching, it should be the teacher’s aim to develop the previous -imperfect knowledge of the pupils concerning a lesson into a full and -complete knowledge. This can best be effected by judicious questioning -and conversation. - -The illustrations of the lessons, as in the Second Reader, are intended -to aid the pupils in obtaining real conceptions of the ideas involved -in the lessons. Children vary greatly in capacity for imagination. It -is essential, however, to the proper understanding of a lesson, and -hence to the proper reading of it, that a child be able to imagine the -persons, actions, objects, described in it. The illustrations will -aid in developing this power of imagination, and the teacher by his -questions and appropriate criticisms, and by a judicious use of his own -greater knowledge and experience, will aid still more in developing it. - -In the poetry great care has been taken to select not only such pieces -as children can easily comprehend, but also such as are in themselves -good literature. Many old favorites have been retained, their worth as -reading lessons having been proved with generations of school children. -In the reading of poetry the teacher must constantly assure himself -that the pupils clearly understand what they read. Children have a -natural ear for rhythm, and a fondness for rhyme. Hence they easily -learn to read verse being insensibly charmed by its melody. But they -cannot, with equal facility, comprehend the poetical meanings, the -terse expressions, and the inverted constructions, with which verse -abounds. Much more time, therefore, should be spent by the teacher, -in poetry than in prose, in eliciting from his pupils the meanings -of words, phrases, and sentences. He should not rest satisfied until -the pupils can substitute for every more important word, phrase, and -sentence of a poem, an equivalent of their own finding. He must be -certain too that they understand the substitutions which they offer. -Conversation and questioning will here, as elsewhere in school work, -help him in effecting his purpose. - -The exercises which are put at the end of some of the lessons are -intended merely as examples of exercises which the teacher can -himself prepare for all the lessons. Methods of using these have been -described in the Preface to the Second Reader. In the Word Exercises, -many of the words have been re-spelled phonetically to indicate -their pronunciation. This too is merely an example of what may be -done with all words. Pupils should be taught to pick out the silent -letters in words, and to indicate the true phonetic equivalents of -the “orthographical expedients,” as they are called, by which vowel -sounds are often indicated. For example, in _neighbour_, _g_, _h_, and -either _o_ or _u_ are silent, and _ei_ does duty for _ā_; so that the -pronunciation of the word may be indicated by _nā’bor_ or _nā’bur_. -It will be a useful exercise for the pupils sometimes to write out in -this way, on the blackboard, the phonetic spelling of the irregularly -spelled words which occur in their lessons, alongside of their common -spelling. Practice will soon give facility in doing this. It is -believed that by such practice the orthography of irregularly spelled -words will be more easily remembered, and accuracy of pronunciation -more readily gained. - -To aid in securing accuracy of pronunciation, a short chapter on -Orthoëpy has been prefixed to the reading lessons. The statements -in it are to form a basis for lessons to be given by the teacher to -the pupils in conversation. Orthoëpy is acquired only by constant -attention to utterance. Carefulness in enunciation must first become -a habit. The correct pronunciation of individual words will then be -gained by the imitation of those who speak correctly, or reference -to a dictionary. It is true that in the pronunciation of many words, -authorities differ widely; hence dogmatism in pronunciation is to be -avoided. Notwithstanding this, no one can hope to become a correct -speaker without the careful study of a dictionary. The teacher should -see that the system of sound-marking adopted by the dictionary in use -in his school, is understood by his pupils, so that they may consult it -intelligently. - - - - -CONTENTS. - -(_The Titles of the Selections in Poetry are printed in Italics._) - - - NUMBER. TITLE. AUTHOR. PAGE. - - I. THE WHITE SHIP (_Illustrated_) Dickens 11 - II. _Casabianca_ Hemans, Mrs. 16 - III. THE GIRAFFE OR CAMELOPARD (_Illus._) _Barnes’ IV._ 18 - IV. _The Mountain and the Squirrel_ Emerson 20 - V. _The Pet Lamb_ (_Illustrated_) Wordsworth 21 - VI. THE CAMEL (_Illustrated_) 24 - VII. _Lucy Gray_ (_Illustrated_) Wordsworth 27 - VIII. THE EMPEROR AND THE MAJOR (_Illus._) _Butler’s IV._ 30 - IX. _Farmer John_ Trowbridge 33 - X. THE POOR LITTLE MATCH GIRL Andersen 36 - XI. _The Sands O’ Dee_ (_Illustrated_) Kingsley 38 - XII. THE RHINOCEROS (_Illustrated_) _Barnes’ IV._ 40 - XIII. _The Old Arm-Chair_ (_Illustrated_) Cook, Eliza 44 - XIV. _Abou Ben Adhem and the Angel_ Hunt 45 - XV. PRINCE ARTHUR Dickens 46 - XVI. _A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea_ Cunningham 51 - XVII. _We are Seven_ (_Illustrated_) Wordsworth 52 - XVIII. THE HIPPOPOTAMUS (_Illustrated_) _Battersea III._ 55 - XIX. _A Bright Boy_ Blackie 58 - XX. _After Blenheim_ (_Illustrated_) Southey 60 - XXI. THE BLACK DOUGLAS (_Illustrated_) _Battersea IV._ 63 - XXII. _Bruce and the Spider_ (_Illustrated_) Cook, Eliza 68 - XXIII. THE FARMER AND THE FOX Froude 71 - XXIV. _A Canadian Boat Song_ Moore 73 - XXV. _The Wreck of the Hesperus_ Longfellow 74 - XXVI. HOLLAND (_Illustrated_) Dodge, Mrs. 78 - XXVII. _Evening Hymn_ Keble 81 - XXVIII. _Psalm XXIII._ 82 - XXIX. THE HEROIC SERF (_Illustrated_) Champneys 82 - XXX. _There’s a Good Time Coming_ Mackay 86 - XXXI. _John Brown_ Mackay 88 - XXXII. THE OTTER (_Illustrated_) _Butler’s IV._ 90 - XXXIII. _The Ivy Green_ (_Illustrated_) Dickens 93 - XXXIV. _The Sea_ Procter 94 - XXXV. _Ho! Breakers on the Weather Bow_ Swain 96 - XXXVI. A CHILD’S DREAM OF A STAR Dickens 97 - XXXVII. _Hannah Binding Shoes_ (_Illustrated_) Larcom, Lucy 101 - XXXVIII. _Jack in the Pulpit_ (_Illustrated_) Whittier 103 - XXXIX. THE BEAVER (_Illustrated_) _Barnes’ III._ 106 - XL. _The Angel’s Whisper_ Lover 109 - XLI. _The Rapid_ Sangster 110 - XLII. A NARROW ESCAPE (_Illustrated_) _Ill. English IV._ 111 - XLIII. _The Fairies of Caldon-Low_ (_Illus._) Howitt, Mrs. 115 - XLIV. VOLCANOES (_Illustrated_) _Barnes’ IV._ 119 - XLV. _A Small Catechism_ McGee 122 - XLVI. CURIOUS BIRDS’ NESTS (_Illustrated_) _Butler’s IV._ 123 - XLVII. _Lord Ullin’s Daughter_ (_Illustrated_) Campbell 127 - XLVIII. _To An Early Primrose_ White 129 - XLIX. THE WHISTLE Franklin 130 - L. _Bugle Song_ (_Illustrated_) Tennyson 132 - LI. _The Inchcape Rock_ (_Illustrated_) Southey 133 - LII. THE FLAX Andersen 136 - LIII. _The French at Ratisbon_ (_Illustrated_) Browning 141 - LIV. EGYPT AND ITS RUINS (_Illustrated_) 143 - LV. _To My Mother_ White 148 - LVI. _Zlobane_ Gustafson, Mrs. 149 - LVII. THE RUBY-THROATED HUMMING-BIRD Audubon 152 - LVIII. _Trust in God and Do the Right_ Macleod 155 - LIX. _Somebody’s Darling_ Lacoste, Marie 156 - LX. _Song from “The Princess”_ Tennyson 157 - LXI. ANTS AND THEIR SLAVES Michelet 158 - LXII. _The Gray Swan_ (_Illustrated_) Cary, Alice 162 - LXIII. THE CAPTURE OF A WHALE Cooper 165 - LXIV. _The Village Blacksmith_ (_Illustrated_) Longfellow 171 - LXV. THE MONSTER OF THE NILE Baker 173 - LXVI. _Prayer_ Montgomery 177 - LXVII. THE THERMOMETER _Ill. English IV._ 179 - LXVIII. GOLDEN DEEDS 182 - LXIX. _By Cool Siloam’s Shady Rill_ Heber 187 - LXX. AGE OF TREES (_Illustrated_) _Butler’s IV._ 188 - LXXI. _Rock Me to Sleep_ Allen, Mrs. 192 - LXXII. HEAT:--CONDUCTION AND RADIATION _Ill. English IV._ 194 - LXXIII. _When All Thy Mercies, O my God_ Addison 200 - LXXIV. CANADIAN TREES - (_First Reading--Illustrated_) Brown 202 - LXXV. _Bingen on the Rhine_ Norton, Hon. Mrs. 207 - LXXVI. CANADIAN TREES (_Second Reading_) Brown 210 - LXXVII. _Burial of Sir John Moore_ Wolfe 214 - LXXVIII. THE GOLDEN TOUCH - (_First Reading--Illustrated_) Hawthorne 216 - LXXIX. _The Road to the Trenches_ - (_Illustrated_) Lushington 221 - LXXX. THE ROOT Figuier 223 - LXXXI. _The Waterfowl_ (_Illustrated_) Bryant 227 - LXXXII. SHAPES OF LEAVES - (_First Reading--Illustrated_) Frankenstein 229 - LXXXIII. _The Brook_ (_Illustrated_) Tennyson 233 - LXXXIV. SHAPES OF LEAVES - (_Second Reading--Illustrated_) Frankenstein 235 - LXXXV. _The Burial of Moses_ Alexander, Mrs. 240 - LXXXVI. THE GOLDEN TOUCH (_Second Reading_) Hawthorne 243 - LXXXVII. _The May Queen_ - (_First Reading--Illustrated_) Tennyson 250 - LXXXVIII. THE FLOWER 252 - LXXXIX. _The May Queen_ (_Second Reading_) Tennyson 255 - XC. THE FRUIT (_Illustrated_) Frankenstein 257 - XCI. _The May Queen_ - (_Third Reading--Illustrated_) Tennyson 261 - XCII. THE GOLDEN TOUCH - (_Third Reading--Illustrated_) Hawthorne 264 - XCIII. _John Gilpin_ (_Illustrated_) Cowper 272 - - - - -INDEX OF AUTHORS. - - - NAME. PAGE. - - Addison, Joseph 200 - Alexander, Cecil Frances 240 - Allen, Elizabeth Akers 192 - Andersen, Hans Christian 36, 136 - Audubon, John James 152 - - Baker, Sir Samuel White 173 - Blackie, John Stuart 58 - Brown, James 202, 210 - Browning, Robert 141 - Bryant, William Cullen 227 - - Campbell, Thomas 127 - Cary, Alice 162 - Cook, Eliza 44, 68 - Cooper, James Fenimore 165 - Cowper, William 272 - Cunningham, Allan 51 - - Dickens, Charles 11, 46, 93, 97 - Dodge, Mary Mapes 78 - - Emerson, Ralph Waldo 20 - - Figuier, Louis 223 - Frankenstein, Gustavus 229, 235, 257 - Franklin, Benjamin 130 - Froude, James Anthony 71 - - Gustafson, Zadel Barnes 149 - - Hawthorne, Nathaniel 216, 243, 264 - Heber, Reginald 187 - Hemans, Felicia Dorothea 16 - Howitt, Mary 115 - Hunt, Leigh 45 - - Keble, John 81 - Kingsley, Charles 38 - - Lacoste, Marie 156 - Larcom, Lucy 101 - Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 74, 171 - Lover, Samuel 109 - Lushington, Henry 221 - - Mackay, Charles 86, 88 - Macleod, Norman 155 - Michelet, Jules 158 - Montgomery, James 177 - Moore, Thomas 73 - McGee, Thomas D’Arcy 122 - - Norton, Hon. Caroline Elizabeth Sarah 207 - - Procter, Bryan Waller (_Barry Cornwall_) 94 - - Sangster, Charles 110 - Southey, Robert 60, 133 - Swain, Charles 96 - - Tennyson, Alfred (Lord Tennyson) 132, 157, 233, 250, 255, 261 - Trowbridge, John Townsend 33 - - White, Henry Kirke 129, 148 - Whittier, John Greenleaf 103 - Wolfe, Charles 214 - Wordsworth, William 21, 27, 52 - - - - -ORTHOËPY. - - -1. =Orthoëpy= or =Correct Pronunciation=, is the utterance of words -with their right sounds and accents, as sanctioned by the best usage. -It depends principally upon =Articulation=, =Syllabication=, and -=Accentuation=. - -2. =Articulation= is the distinct utterance of the elementary vowel and -consonant sounds of the language, whether separate, or combined into -syllables and words. In pronouncing a word its elementary sounds should -be correctly articulated. - -3. The more =common faults in articulation= are:-- - - (1) _Omitting a vowel sound, or substituting one vowel sound - for another, in an unaccented syllable._ Of all faults in - pronunciation probably this is the commonest. As a rule - it results from carelessness in utterance. Examples of it - are:--pronouncing--arithmetic, _’rithmetic_; library, _līb’ry_; - literature, _lit’rature_; geography, _j’ography_; barrel, - _barr’l_; below, _b’low_; family, _fam’ly_; violent, _vi’lent_; - history, _hist’ry_; memory, _mem’ry_; regular, _reg’lar_; - usual, _ūzh’al_; alwāys, _alwŭz_; afford, _ŭfford_; abundant, - _abundŭnt_; eatable, _eatŭble_; America, _Ameriky_; childrĕn, - _childrin_; modĕst, _modŭst_; commandment, _commandmŭnt_; - judgment, _judgmŭnt_; moment, _momŭnt_; kindness, _kindniss_; - gospĕl, _gospil_; pockĕt, _pockit_; ēmotion, _immotion_; - charĭty, _charŭty_; opposĭte, _oppozŭt_; potatō, _pŭtatĕh_; - patriŏt, _patriŭt_; ōbedience, _ŭbediĕnce_; accūrāte, - _ak’er-ĭt_; particūlar, _partikĭlĕr_. - - (2) _Substituting one vowel sound for another in an accented - syllable or a one-syllabled word._ This fault may result, not - from carelessness, but from want of knowledge, for the correct - pronunciation of the vowel sounds of words must be learned from - some correct speaker, or from a dictionary. Examples of this - fault are:--pronouncing--āte, _ĕt_; cătch, _kĕtch_; săt, _sŏt_; - găther, _gĕther_; băde, _bāde_; was, _wŭz_; father, _făther_ or - _fawther_; says (_sĕz_), _sāz_; get, _git_; kettle, _kĭttle_; - deaf (dĕf), _deef_; creek, _crick_; rinse, _rĕnse_; bŏnnet, - _bŭnnet_; bosom, _bŭzum_; frŏm, _frum_; just, _jĕst_; shut, - _shĕt_; new (nū), _noo_; dūty, _dooty_; redūce, _redooce_; - because, _bekŭz_; saucy, _sāssy_; point, _pīnt_; instead, - _instĭd_; route, (rōōt), _rout_. - - (3) _Omitting a consonant sound, or substituting one consonant - sound for another_; as in pronouncing--yeast, _’east_; - February, _Feb’uary_; and, _an’_; old, _ōl’_; acts, _ac’s_; - slept, _slep’_; depths, _dep’s_; fields, _fiel’s_; winds, - _win’s_; breadths, _bre’ths_; twelfth, _twel’th_ or _twelf’_; - asked (askt), _as’t_; mostly, _mōs’ly_; swiftly, _swif’ly_; - government, _gover’ment_; Arctic, _Ar’tic_; products, - _produc’s_; consists, _consis’_; commands, _comman’s_; - morning, _mornin_; strength, _strenth_; length, _lenth_; - shrink, _srink_; shrill, _srill_; height, _hīth_; Asia - (A’she-a), _A’zhe-a_; chimney, _chimbly_; covetous (cŭv’ĕt-ŭs), - _cŭv’e-chŭs_; fortūne, _forchin_. - - (4) _Introducing in the pronunciation of a word a sound that - does not belong to it_; as in pronouncing--drown, _drownd_; - drowned, _drownded_; often (of’n), _of´ten_; epistle, - (e-pis´l), _e-pis´tel_; elm, _el´um_; film, _fil´um_; height, - _hīt’th_; grievous, _grēv´i-us_; mischievous (mis´chĭv-us), - _mis-chēv´i-us_; column, _col´yum_; once (wŭns), _wŭnst_; - across, _acrost_. - - (5) _Misusing the sound of_ r; as in pronouncing--Maria, - _Mariar_; idea, _idear_; widow, _widder_; meadow, _medder_; - farm, _far-r-m_; warm, _war-r-m_; war, _wa’_; door, _do-ah_; - garden, _gä’den_; card, _cä’d_; warm, _wä’m_; forth, _fo’th_; - hundred, _hunderd_; children, _childern_. - - (6) _Misusing the aspirate_ (h); as in pronouncing--happy, - _’appy_; apples, _happles_; whence, _wence_; which, _wich_; - what, _wot_; whirl, _wirl_. - -4. =Syllabication= (in Orthoëpy) is the correct formation of syllables -in pronouncing words. A syllable is a sound, or a combination of -sounds, uttered by a single impulse of the voice, and constituting -a word or a part of a word. A word has as many syllables as it has -separate vowel sounds. When words are uttered so that their vowel -sounds are clearly and correctly articulated, they will be properly -syllabified. - -5. =Accentuation= is the correct placing of accent in uttering -words. =Accent= is a superior stress or force of voice upon -certain syllables of words which distinguishes them from the other -syllables. In uttering a word of more than one syllable, one of -the syllables receives a greater stress in pronunciation than the -others, and is said to be _accented_, or to _have the accent_. Some -words have more than one syllable accented, as _con´fla-gra´´tion_, -_in-com´pre-hen´si-bil´´ity_; but one syllable is always more strongly -accented than the others, and is said to have the _main_ or _primary -accent_. Accentuation, like the other elements of orthoëpy, is fixed by -usage; that is, by the practice of those who are recognized as correct -speakers. - -6. In the pronunciation of a word care should be taken to give to -the vowels their proper sounds, to place the accent upon the right -syllable, and to sound the consonants distinctly. The tendency to -drop consonant sounds, and to pronounce indistinctly or incorrectly -the vowel sounds of unaccented syllables, should be carefully guarded -against. The distinction between syllables should be carefully made, -and especially, the distinction between separate words. Carelessness in -this respect may make the meanings of sentences uncertain. For example: - -_He saw two beggars steal_, may sound as, _He sought to beg or steal_; - -_He had two small eggs_, may sound as, _He had two small legs_; and - -_Can there be an aim more lofty?_ as, _Can there be a name more lofty?_ - -This blending of the sounds of words is prevented, partly by distinctly -uttering the sounds of their initial letters, but chiefly by distinctly -uttering and slightly dwelling upon the sounds of their final letters. - - - - -_THIRD READER._ - - - - -I.--THE WHITE SHIP. - -CHARLES DICKENS. - - -King Henry I. went over to Normandy with his son Prince William and a -great retinue, to have the prince acknowledged as his successor, and -to contract a marriage between him and the daughter of the Count of -Anjou. Both these things were triumphantly done, with great show and -rejoicing; and on the 25th of November, in the year 1120, the whole -retinue prepared to embark, for the voyage home. - -On that day, there came to the king, Fitz-Stephen, a sea-captain, and -said, “My liege, my father served your father all his life, upon the -sea. He steered the ship with the golden boy upon the prow, in which -your father sailed to conquer England. I have a fair vessel in the -harbor here, called The White Ship, manned by fifty sailors of renown. -I pray you, Sire, to let your servant have the honor of steering you in -The White Ship to England.” - -“I am sorry, friend,” replied the king, “that my ship is already -chosen, and that I cannot, therefore, sail with the son of the man who -served my father. But the prince and his company shall go along with -you in the fair White Ship, manned by the fifty sailors of renown.” An -hour or two afterward, the king set sail in the vessel he had chosen, -accompanied by other vessels, and, sailing all night with a fair and -gentle wind, arrived upon the coast of England in the morning. While it -was yet night, the people in some of these ships heard a faint, wild -cry come over the sea, and wondered what it was. - -[Illustration] - -Now, the prince was a dissolute young man of eighteen, who bore no -love to the English, and who had declared that when he came to the -throne he would yoke them to the plough like oxen. He went aboard The -White Ship with one hundred and forty youthful nobles like himself, -among whom were eighteen noble ladies of the highest rank. All this gay -company, with their servants and the fifty sailors, made three hundred -souls aboard the fair White Ship. - -“Give three casks of wine, Fitz-Stephen,” said the prince, “to the -fifty sailors of renown. My father the king has sailed out of the -harbor. What time is there to make merry here, and yet reach England -with the rest?” - -“Prince,” said Fitz-Stephen, “before morning my fifty and The White -Ship shall overtake the swiftest vessel in attendance on your father -the king if we sail at midnight.” Then the prince commanded to make -merry; and the sailors drank out the three casks of wine, and the -prince and all the noble company danced in the moonlight on the deck of -The White Ship. - -When, at last, she shot out of the harbor, there was not a sober seaman -on board. But the sails were all set and the oars all going merrily. -Fitz-Stephen had the helm. The gay young nobles and the beautiful -ladies, wrapped in mantles of various bright colors to protect them -from the cold, talked, laughed, and sang. The prince encouraged the -fifty sailors to row yet harder, for the honor of The White Ship. - -Crash! A terrific cry broke from three hundred hearts. It was the cry -the people in the distant vessels of the king heard faintly on the -water. The White Ship had struck upon a rock,--was filling,--going -down! Fitz-Stephen hurried the prince into a boat with some few -nobles. “Push off,” he whispered, “and row to the land. It is not far, -and the sea is smooth. The rest of us must die.” But as they rowed fast -away from the sinking ship, the prince heard the voice of his sister -calling for help. He never in his life had been so good as he was then. -He cried in agony, “Row back at any risk! I cannot bear to leave her!” - -They rowed back. As the prince held out his arm to catch his sister, -such numbers leaped into the boat that it was overset. And in the same -instant The White Ship went down. Only two men floated. They both clung -to the mainyard of the ship, which had broken from the mast and now -supported them. One asked the other who he was. He replied, “I am a -nobleman,--Godfrey by name, son of Gilbert. And you?”--“I am a poor -butcher of Rouen,” was the answer. Then they said together, “Lord be -merciful to us both!” and tried to encourage each other as they drifted -in the cold, benumbing sea on that unfortunate November night. - -By and by another man came swimming toward them, whom they knew, when -he pushed aside his long wet hair, to be Fitz-Stephen. “Where is the -prince?” said he. “Gone, gone!” the two cried together. “Neither he, -nor his brother, nor his sister, nor the king’s niece, nor her brother, -nor any one of all the brave three hundred, noble or commoner, except -us three, has risen above the water!” Fitz-Stephen, with a ghastly -face, cried, “Woe! woe to me!” and sank to the bottom. - -The other two clung to the yard for some hours. At length the young -noble said faintly, “I am exhausted, and chilled with the cold, and can -hold no longer. Farewell, good friend! God preserve you!” So he dropped -and sank; and, of all the brilliant crowd, the poor butcher of Rouen -alone was saved. In the morning some fishermen saw him floating in his -sheep-skin coat, and got him into their boat,--the sole relator of the -dismal tale. - -For three days no one dared to carry the intelligence to the king. At -length they sent into his presence a little boy, who, weeping bitterly -and falling at his feet, told him that The White Ship was lost with all -on board. The king fell to the ground like a dead man, and never, never -afterward was seen to smile. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - liege (_lēj_) - niece (_nēs_) - Gil´bert - en-cour´age (_en-kur´-aj_) - helm - con´quer (_kŏng´ker_) - An-jou (_an´joo_) - float´ed - ex-haust´ed (_egz-awst´ed_) - butch´er - God´frey - Rou-en (_roo´en_) - man´tles - dis´so-lūte - tri-umph´ant (_tri-umf´ant_) - whis´per - com´mon-er - ag´o-ny - wrapped - No-vem´ber - com-mand´ed - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Great retinue.--2. _Contract_ a marriage.--3. Sailors - of renown.--4. _Fair_ wind.--5. To make merry.--6. Sails - were set.--7. Oars _going merrily_.--8. Terrific cry.--9. - _Encourage_ each other.--10. _Benumbing_ sea.--11. _Ghastly_ - face.--12. Brilliant crowd.--13. Sole relator of the dismal - tale.--14. Carry the intelligence. - - * * * * * - - _Howe’er it be, it seems to me_ - _’Tis only noble to be good._ - - --_Tennyson._ - - - - -II.--CASABIANCA. - -MRS. HEMANS. - - -Casabianca, a boy about thirteen years old, son of the Admiral of the -French fleet, remained at his post, in the Battle of the Nile, after -his ship, the “Orient,” had caught fire, and after all the guns had -been abandoned. He perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the -flames reached the powder magazine. - - The boy stood on the burning deck, - Whence all but he had fled; - The flame, that lit the battle’s wreck, - Shone round him o’er the dead. - - Yet beautiful and bright he stood, - As born to rule the storm; - A creature of heroic blood, - A proud, though childlike, form. - - The flames rolled on,--he would not go - Without his father’s word; - That father, faint in death below, - His voice no longer heard. - - He called aloud:--“Say, Father, say - If yet my task is done!” - He knew not that the chieftain lay - Unconscious of his son. - - “Speak, Father!” once again he cried, - “If I may yet be gone!” - And but the booming shots replied, - And fast the flames rolled on. - - Upon his brow he felt their breath, - And in his waving hair, - And looked from that lone post of death - In still, yet brave, despair; - - And shouted but once more aloud, - “My Father! must I stay?” - While o’er him fast, through sail and shroud, - The wreathing fires made way. - - They wrapped the ship in splendor wild, - They caught the flag on high, - And streamed above the gallant child - Like banners in the sky. - - There came a burst of thunder sound-- - The boy--oh! where was he? - Ask of the winds that far around - With fragments strewed the sea!-- - - With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, - That well had borne their part!-- - But the noblest thing that perished there - Was that young faithful heart. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Battle’s _wreck_.--2. To rule the storm.--3. A creature of - heroic blood.--4. Lay _unconscious_ of his son.--5. _Booming_ - shots.--6. _Lone post_ of death.--7. Brave despair.--8. - _Wreathing_ fires.--9. Wrapped in wild splendor.--10. Gallant - child.--11. Streamed like banners.--12. Fair pennon.--13. - _Noblest_ thing.--14. Faithful heart. - - - - -III.--THE GIRAFFE OR CAMELOPARD. - - -There are few sights more pleasing than a herd of tall, graceful -giraffes. With their heads reaching a height of from twelve to eighteen -feet, they move about in small herds on the open plains of Africa, -eating the tender twigs and leaves of the mimosa and other trees. - -[Illustration] - -The legs of a large giraffe are about nine feet long and its neck -nearly six feet; while its body measures only seven feet in length and -slopes rapidly from the neck to the tail. The graceful appearance of -the giraffe is increased by the beauty of its skin, which is orange red -in color, and mottled with dark spots. Its long tail has at the end a -tuft of thick hair, which serves the purpose of keeping off the flies -and stinging insects, so plentiful in the hot climate of Africa. - -Its tongue is very wonderful. It is from thirteen to seventeen inches -in length, is slender and pointed, and is capable of being moved in so -many ways, that it is almost as useful to the giraffe as the trunk is -to the elephant. - -The horns of the giraffe are very short and covered with skin. At -the ends there are tufts of short hair. The animal has divided hoofs -somewhat resembling those of the ox. - -The head of the giraffe is small, and its eyes large and mild looking. -These eyes are set in such a way that the animal can see a great deal -of what is behind it, without turning its head. In addition to its -wonderful power of sight, the giraffe can scent danger from a great -distance; so that there is no animal more difficult of approach. - -Strange to relate, the giraffe has no voice. In London, some years ago, -two giraffes were burned to death in their stables, when the slightest -sound would have given notice of their danger, and have saved their -lives. - -The giraffe is naturally both gentle and timid, and he will always try -to avoid danger by flight. It is when running that he exposes his only -ungraceful point. He runs swiftly, but since he moves his fore and -hind legs on each side at the same time, the movement gives him a very -awkward gait. But though timid, he will, when overtaken, turn even upon -the lion or panther, and defend himself successfully by powerful kicks -with his strong legs. - -The natives of Africa capture the giraffe in pitfalls, which are deep -holes covered over with branches of trees and dirt. When captured, the -giraffe can be tamed, and during its captivity it gives scarcely any -trouble. - -Fifty years ago, but little was known about the giraffe in America or -Europe. Now it is to be found in menageries and the public gardens -of large cities. The giraffe thrives in captivity and seems to be -well satisfied with a diet of corn and hay. It is a source of great -satisfaction to those who admire this beautiful animal, that there is -nothing to prevent it from living in a climate so different from that -of its African home. - - - - -IV.--THE MOUNTAIN AND THE SQUIRREL. - -R. W. EMERSON. - - - The mountain and the squirrel - Had a quarrel, - And the former called the latter “Little Prig.” - Bun replied: - “You are doubtless very big, - But all sorts of things and weather - Must be taken in together - To make up a year, - And a sphere: - And I think it no disgrace - To occupy my place. - If I am not so large as you, - You are not so small as I, - And not half so spry: - I’ll not deny you make - A very pretty squirrel track. - Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; - If _I_ cannot carry forests on my back, - Neither can _you_ crack a nut.” - - - - -V.--THE PET LAMB. - -WORDSWORTH. - - -[Illustration] - - The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink; - I heard a voice; it said, “Drink, pretty creature, drink!” - And, looking o’er the hedge, before me I espied - A snow-white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side. - - No other sheep were near, the lamb was all alone, - And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone; - With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel, - While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal. - - The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took, - Seemed to feast with head and ears, and his tail with pleasure shook. - “Drink, pretty creature, drink,” she said in such a tone - That I almost received her heart into my own. - - ’Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare! - I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair. - Now with her empty can the maiden turned away; - But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay. - - Towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place - I unobserved could see the workings of her face: - If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring, - Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing:-- - - “What ails thee, young one? What? Why pull so at thy cord? - Is it not well with thee? Well both for bed and board? - Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be; - Rest, little young one, rest; what is’t that aileth thee? - - “What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart? - Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art. - This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers; - And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears! - - “If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain, - This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain; - For rain and mountain storms, the like thou need’st not fear-- - The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here. - - “Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day - When my father found thee first in places far away; - Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none, - And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone. - - “He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home: - A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam? - A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean - Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could have been. - - “Thou know’st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can - Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran; - And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, - I bring thee draughts of milk,--warm milk it is, and new. - - “Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now; - Then I’ll yoke thee to my cart, like a pony in the plough: - My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold, - Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold. - - “It will not, will not rest!--Poor creature, can it be - That ’tis thy mother’s heart which is working so in thee? - Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear, - And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear. - - “Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair! - I’ve heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there; - The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play, - When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey. - - “Here thou need’st not dread the raven in the sky; - Night and day thou art safe,--our cottage is hard by. - Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain? - Sleep,--and at break of day I will come to thee again!” - - As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet, - This song unto myself did I oftentimes repeat; - And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line, - That but half of it was hers, and one-half of it was _mine_. - - Again, and once again, did I repeat the song; - “Nay,” said I, “more than half to the _damsel_ must belong; - For she looked with such a look, and she spake with such a tone, - That I almost received her heart into my own.” - - -_Word Exercise._ - - bal´lad - cov´ert (_kŭv´ert_) - draught (_draft_) - Bar´ba-ra - wool´len - Lew´-thwaite - - - - -VI.--THE CAMEL. - - -In Asia and in Africa there are vast plains of sand, upon which no -grass grows, and through which no river runs. These plains are as -smooth as the ocean unmoved by waves. As far as the eye can reach, -nothing is to be seen but sand. In the middle of the day when the sun -is hottest, the sand dazzles the eyes of the traveller, as if there -were a sun beneath the sand as well as one above. - -Here and there, but many miles apart, are green spots consisting of -bushes, trees, and grass, growing around a small pool or spring of -water. These green spots are called oases. Here the tired traveller can -find food and shade, and can sleep awhile, sheltered from the blazing -sun. - -How do you think the traveller crosses these burning plains? Not in -carriages, nor on horseback, nor in railroad trains, but on the backs -of tall, long-necked, humpbacked camels. - -Even if you have seen camels alive, or pictures of them, you will still -be glad to learn more about these very useful animals. - -The camel lives on grass, and the dry short herbage, which is found on -the edges of the desert. While travelling in the desert, it is fed upon -dates and barley. It is able to eat a great deal of food at a time and -to drink enough water to last some days. By this means, it can go for -a long time without food, and travel long distances without stopping -to eat or drink. The camel has a curious lump of fat on the top of its -back called a “hump.” One kind of camel has two humps. One purpose of -these humps, is to supply the camel with strength, when it has neither -food nor water, and would otherwise die from want. - -The foot of the camel is a wonderful thing. It is broad, and has a soft -pad at the bottom, which keeps it from sinking in the yielding sand, -when the camel crosses the arid deserts. - -[Illustration] - -The camel with two humps on its back is much larger and stronger than -the camel with one hump. The one-humped camel is known as the Arabian -camel or dromedary. Asia is the home of the camel, but numbers of them -are used in Africa and other parts of the world. The camel is trained -to kneel down to receive its load, and to let its master get on its -back. The camel can smell water at a great distance. When its rider -is nearly dead from thirst, and water is near, he can tell it by the -greater speed at which the camel begins to travel. - -The camel is often called the “ship of the desert.” As the desert is -like a sea, and the green spots upon it like islands, so is the camel -like a ship, that can carry the traveller from one point to another, -quickly and safely. But even with his faithful camel, the traveller -does not care to cross the desert alone. The difficulties of keeping in -the right track, and the fear of wild Arabs, make it much safer for a -number of travellers to cross the desert together. - -Travellers take with them camel-drivers and men who know the way, to -look after the beasts when they stop for the night. These men light -the fires, cook the food, and fill the large skin-bottles with water -when they come to a spring. The travellers, camels, and camel-drivers, -together, form what is called a caravan. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - ar´id - daz´zles - isl´and (_ī´land_) - dĕs´ert (_dĕz-_) - oases (_ō´a-sēz_) - car´riage (_kăr´rij_) - dif´fi-cult - herb´age - A-ra´bi-an - car´a-van (or, _car-a-van´_) - pict´ure (_pĭkt´yür_) - shel´tered - dromedary (_drŭm´e-da-re_) - trav´el-ler - - - - -VII.--LUCY GRAY. - -WORDSWORTH. - - -[Illustration] - - Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray; - And, when I crossed the wild, - I chanced to see at break of day - The solitary child. - - No mate, no comrade Lucy knew; - She dwelt on a wide moor,-- - The sweetest thing that ever grew - Beside a human door! - - You yet may spy the fawn at play, - The hare upon the green; - But the sweet face of Lucy Gray - Will never more be seen. - - “To-night will be a stormy night-- - You to the town must go; - And take a lantern, child, to light - Your mother through the snow.” - - “That, father, will I gladly do; - ’Tis scarcely afternoon,-- - The minster-clock has just struck two, - And yonder is the moon.” - - At this the father raised his hook - And snapped a fagot-band; - He plied his work;--and Lucy took - The lantern in her hand. - - Not blither is the mountain roe: - With many a wanton stroke - Her feet disperse the powdery snow, - That rises up like smoke. - - The storm came on before its time; - She wandered up and down; - And many a hill did Lucy climb, - But never reached the town. - - The wretched parents, all that night, - Went shouting far and wide; - But there was neither sound nor sight - To serve them for a guide. - - At daybreak on a hill they stood - That overlooked the moor; - And thence they saw the bridge of wood - A furlong from their door. - - They wept, and, turning homeward, cried, - “In heaven we all shall meet!” - When in the snow the mother spied - The print of Lucy’s feet. - - Then downward from the steep hill’s edge - They tracked the footmarks small; - And through the broken hawthorn hedge, - And by the long stone wall; - - And then an open field they crossed; - The marks were still the same; - They tracked them on, nor ever lost, - And to the bridge they came. - - They followed from the snowy bank - Those footmarks, one by one, - Into the middle of the plank; - And further there were none! - - Yet some maintain that to this day - She is a living child; - That you may see sweet Lucy Gray - Upon the lonesome wild. - - O’er rough and smooth she trips along, - And never looks behind; - And sings a solitary song - That whistles in the wind. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Crossed the wild.--2. _Solitary_ child.--3. Sweetest - thing.--4. _Minster_ clock.--5. Snapped a fagot-band.--6. - _Plied_ his work.--7. Not blither is the mountain roe.--8. - Wanton stroke.--9. _Disperse the powdery_ snow.--10. _Wretched_ - parents.--11. Sound nor sight.--12. Spied the print.--13. - Tracked them on.--14. Lonesome wild.--15. _Trips_ along.--16. - _Solitary_ song. - - - - -VIII.--THE EMPEROR AND THE MAJOR. - - -The Emperor Alexander, while travelling in Western Russia, came one day -to a small town of which he knew very little; so, when he found that he -must change horses, he thought that he would look around and see what -the town was like. - -[Illustration] - -Alone, habited in a plain military coat, without any mark of his high -rank, he wandered through the place until he came to the end of the -road that he had been following. There he paused, not knowing which way -to turn; for two paths were before him,--one to the right and one to -the left. - -Alexander saw a man standing at the door of a house; and, going up to -him, the Emperor said, “My friend, can you tell me which of these two -roads I must take to get to Kalouga?” The man, who was in full military -dress, was smoking a pipe with an air of dignity almost ridiculous. -Astonished that so plain-looking a traveller should dare to speak to -him with familiarity, the smoker answered shortly, “To the right.” - -“Pardon!” said the Emperor. “Another word, if you please.”--“What?” -was the haughty reply.--“Permit me to ask you a question,” -continued the Emperor. “What is your grade in the army?”--“Guess.” -And the pipe blazed away furiously.--“Lieutenant?” said the -amused Alexander.--“Up!” came proudly from the smoker’s -lips.--“Captain?”--“Higher.”--“Major?”--“At last!” was the lofty -response. The Emperor bowed low in the presence of such greatness. - -“Now, in my turn,” said the major, with the grand air -that he thought fit to assume in addressing a humble -inferior, “what are you, if you please?”--“Guess,” answered -Alexander.--“Lieutenant?”--“Up!”--“Captain?”--“Higher.”--“Major?”--“Go -on.”--“Colonel?”--“Again.” - -The smoker took his pipe from his mouth: “Your Excellency is, then, -General?” The grand air was fast disappearing.--“You are coming near -it.”--The major put his hand to his cap: “Then your Highness is -Field-Marshal?” - -By this time the grand air had taken flight, and the officer, so -pompous a moment before, looked as if the steady gaze and the -quiet voice of the traveller had reduced him to the last stage of -fear.--“Once more, my good major,” said Alexander.--“His Imperial -Majesty?” exclaimed the man, in surprise and terror, letting his -pipe drop from his trembling fingers.--“His very self,” answered the -Emperor; and he smiled at the wonderful change in the major’s face and -manner. - -“Ah, Sire, pardon me!” cried the officer, falling on his -knees,--“pardon me!”--“And what is there to pardon?” said Alexander, -with real, simple dignity. “My friend, you have done me no harm. I -asked you which road I should take, and you told me. Thanks!” - -But the major never forgot the lesson. If, in later years, he was -tempted to be rude or haughty to his so-called inferiors, there rose -at once in his mind a picture of a well-remembered scene, in which -his pride of power had brought such shame upon him. Two soldiers in a -quiet country-town made but an every-day picture, after all; but what -a difference there had been between the pompous manner of the petty -officer and the natural, courteous dignity of the Emperor of all the -Russias! - - -_Word Exercise._ - - haughty (_haw´te_) - Maj´es-ty - Colonel (_kur´nel_) - Lieu-ten´ant (_lĕu-ten´ant_) - Ka-lou´ga (_kă-loo´gă_) - Em´per-or - Im-pe´ri-al - Ex´cel-len-cy - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. _Habited in a plain military_ coat.--2. Air of dignity.--3. - Speak with _familiarity_.--4. Answered shortly.--5. Haughty - reply.--6. Lofty response.--7. Steady gaze.--8. Exclaimed in - surprise.--9. Simple dignity.--10. Pompous manner.--11. Petty - officer.--12. Natural dignity. - - - - -IX.--FARMER JOHN. - -J. T. TROWBRIDGE. - - - Home from his journey, Farmer John - Arrived this morning safe and sound; - His black coat off, and his old clothes on, - “Now I’m myself,” said Farmer John; - And he thinks, “I’ll look around.” - Up leaps the dog: “Get down, you pup! - Are you so glad you would eat me up?” - The old cow lows at the gate to greet him; - The horses prick up their ears to meet him. - “Well, well, old Bay! - Ha, ha, old Gray! - Do you get good feed when I’m away? - - “You haven’t a rib,” says Farmer John; - “The cattle are looking round and sleek; - The colt is going to be a roan, - And a beauty, too; how he has grown! - We’ll wean the calf in a week.” - Says Farmer John, “When I’ve been off, - To call you again about the trough, - And water you and pet you while you drink, - Is a greater comfort than you can think!” - And he pats old Bay - And he slaps old Gray; - “Ah! this is the comfort of going away. - - “For after all,” says Farmer John, - “The best of a journey is getting home: - I’ve seen great sights, but I would not give - This spot, and the peaceful life I live, - For all their Paris and Rome; - These hills for the city’s stifled air, - And big hotels and bustle and glare;-- - Land all houses and roads all stones, - That deafen your ears and batter your bones! - Would you, old Bay? - Would you, old Gray? - That’s what one gets by going away. - - “There Money is king,” says Farmer John, - “And Fashion is queen; and it’s very queer - To see how sometimes, while the man - Is raking and scraping all he can, - The wife spends, every year, - Enough, you would think, for a score of wives, - To keep them in luxury all their lives! - The town is a perfect Babylon - To a quiet chap,” says Farmer John. - “You see, old Bay, - You see, old Gray, - I’m wiser than when I went away. - - “I’ve found out this,” says Farmer John, - “That happiness is not bought and sold, - And clutched in a life of waste and hurry, - In nights of pleasure and days of worry, - And wealth isn’t all in gold, - Mortgage and stocks, and ten per cent., - But in simple ways and sweet content, - Few wants, pure hopes, and noble ends, - Some land to till, and a few good friends, - Like you, old Bay, - And you, old Gray,-- - That’s what I’ve learned by going away.” - - And a happy man is Farmer John,-- - O a rich and happy man is he! - He sees the peas and pumpkins growing, - The corn in tassel, the buckwheat blowing, - And fruit on vine and tree; - The large kind oxen look their thanks, - As he rubs their foreheads and strokes their flanks; - The doves light round him, and strut and coo; - Says Farmer John, “I’ll take you, too,-- - And you, old Bay, - And you, old Gray, - Next time I travel so far away.” - - -_Word Exercise._ - - trough (_trawf_) - luxury (_lŭk´shu-re_) - mortgage (_mor´gaj_) - foreheads (_fŏr´eds_) - clutched - jour´ney (_jŭr-_) - Bab´y-lon - hăp´pi-nĕss - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Arrived safe and sound.--2. Stifled air.--3. Bustle and - glare.--4. Money is king.--5. Fashion is queen.--6. Raking - and scraping.--7. Days of _worry_.--8. Simple ways.--9. Sweet - content.--10. Sees the corn _in tassel_.--11. Buckwheat - _blowing_.--12. Look their thanks.--13. The doves _light_ round - him. - - * * * * * - - _There is nothing so kingly as kindness,_ - _And nothing so royal as truth._ - - --_Alice Cary._ - - - - -X.--THE POOR LITTLE MATCH GIRL. - -HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. - - -It was New Year’s Eve, and a cold, snowy evening. On this night, a poor -little girl walked along the street with naked feet, benumbed with -cold, and carrying in her hand a bundle of matches, which she had been -trying all day to sell, but in vain; no one had given her a single -penny. The snow fell fast upon her pretty yellow hair and her bare -neck; but she did not mind that. She looked wistfully at the bright -lights which shone from every window as she passed along; she could -smell the nice roast goose, and she longed to taste it: it was New -Year’s Eve! - -Wearied and faint she laid herself down in a corner of the street, and -drew her little legs under her to keep herself warm. She could not go -home, for her father would scold her for not having sold any matches; -and, even if she were there, she would still be cold, for the house was -but poorly protected, and the wind whistled through many a chink in the -roof and walls. She thought she would try and warm her cold fingers by -lighting one of the matches; she drew one out, struck it against the -wall, and immediately a bright, clear flame streamed from it, like a -little candle. - -The little girl looked at the flame, and she saw before her a beautiful -brass stove with a nice warm fire in it! She stretched out her feet to -warm them,--when, lo, the match went out; in a moment the stove and -fire vanished; she sat again in the cold night, with the burnt match in -her hand. - -She struck another; the flame blazed on the opposite wall, and she -saw through it into a room where a table was laid out with handsome -dishes,--roast goose, and other nice things were there,--and, what was -still more extraordinary, she saw the goose jump from the dish, knife, -and fork, and all, and come running towards her. But again the match -went out; and nothing but the dark wall and the cold street were to be -seen. - -The little girl drew another match; and, as soon as it struck a light, -she saw a most beautiful Christmas tree, much larger and more splendid -than any she had ever seen before. A vast number of lighted candles -hung among the branches; and a multitude of pretty variegated pictures, -like those in the shops, met her eyes. The girl lifted up her little -hands in rapture at the sight; but again the match fell; and in the -same moment one of the blazing candles shot through the sky, like a -falling star, and fell at her feet. “Now some one dies,” cried she; for -she had been told by her good old grandmother, that when a star falls, -a soul returns to God. - -Again she struck; and, behold, a bright light shone round about her, -and in the midst of it stood her kind grandmother, looking calmly and -smilingly upon her. - -“Dear grandmother,” said she, “take me, oh take me! You will be gone -from me when the match goes out, like the bright stove, the nice -supper, and the Christmas tree;” and saying this, she struck all the -rest of the matches at once, which made a light round her almost like -day. And now the good grandmother smiled still more sweetly upon her; -she lifted her up in her arms, and they soared together, far, far -away; where there was no longer any cold, or hunger, or pain,--they -were in Paradise! - -But the poor little match-girl was still in the corner of the street, -in the cold New Year’s morning. She was frozen to death, and a bundle -of burnt matches lay beside her. People said, “She has been trying to -warm herself, poor thing!” But ah, they knew not what glorious things -she had seen; they knew not into what joys she had entered--nor how -happy she was on this festival of the New Year! - - -_Word Exercise._ - - calmly (_kām-le_) - fes´ti-val - vanished (_van´isht_) - vā´ri-e-gāt-ed - Par´a-dise - grand´mother - op´po-site (_op´po-zĭt_) - handsome (_han´sum_) - Christmas (_krĭs´mas_) - extraordinary (_eks-tror´dĭ-na-re_) - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. _Benumbed_ with cold.--2. She _did not mind_ that.--3. - Looked _wistfully_.--4. Wearied and faint.--5. Poorly - protected.--6. A _clear_ flame _streamed_ from it.--7. A table - _was laid out_.--8. _In rapture_ at the sight.--9. _Soared_ far - away.--10. _Glorious_ things. - - - - -XI.--THE SANDS O’ DEE. - -CHARLES KINGSLEY. - - - “O Mary, go and call the cattle home, - And call the cattle home, - And call the cattle home, - Across the sands o’ Dee.” - The western wind was wild and dank with foam, - And all alone went she. - - The creeping tide came up along the sand, - And o’er and o’er the sand, - And round and round the sand, - As far as eye could see; - The blinding mist came down and hid the land-- - And never home came she. - - “Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair-- - A tress o’ golden hair, - O’ drowned maiden’s hair, - Above the nets at sea? - Was never salmon yet that shone so fair, - Among the stakes on Dee.” - - They rowed her in across the rolling foam, - The cruel, crawling foam, - The cruel, hungry foam, - To her grave beside the sea; - But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home, - Across the sands o’ Dee. - -[Illustration] - - - - -XII.--THE RHINOCEROS. - - -Next to the mighty elephant, the rhinoceros is the largest and -strongest of animals. There are several species of the rhinoceros, some -of which are found in Asia, and others in different parts of Africa. - -In the latter country there are four varieties,--the black rhinoceros, -having a single horn; a black species, having two horns; the -long-horned white rhinoceros; and the common white species, which has a -short, stubby horn. - -The largest of the African species is the long-horned, white, or -square-nosed rhinoceros. When full grown, it sometimes measures -eighteen feet in length, and about as many feet around the body. Its -horn frequently grows to the length of thirty inches. - -The black rhinoceros, although much smaller than the white, and seldom -having a horn over eighteen inches long, is far more ferocious than the -white species, and possesses a wonderful degree of strength. - -The form of the rhinoceros is clumsy, and its appearance dull and -heavy. The limbs are thick and powerful, and each foot has three toes, -which are covered with broad, hoof-like nails. The tail is small; -the head very long and large. Taken altogether, there are few--if -any--animals that compare with the rhinoceros in ugliness. The eyes are -set in such a manner that the animal can not see anything exactly in -front of it; but the senses of hearing and smelling are so keen that -sight is not required to detect an enemy, whether it be man or beast. -The skin of the African rhinoceros is smooth, and has only a few -scattering hairs here and there. It is, however, very thick and tough, -and can resist the force of a rifle-ball except when it is fired from a -very short distance. - -The largest known species of the rhinoceros is found in Asia. It lives -chiefly in the marshy jungles, and on the banks of lakes and rivers, -in India. Some of this species are over five feet in height, and have -horns three feet in length and eighteen inches around the base. Unlike -that of the African rhinoceros, the skin of the Asiatic species is not -smooth, but lies in thick folds upon the body, forming flaps which can -be lifted with the hand. - -The food of the rhinoceros consists of roots, and the young branches -and leaves of trees and shrubs. It ploughs up the roots with the aid -of its horn, and gathers the branches and leaves with its upper lip, -which is long and pointed, and with it rolls its food together before -placing it in its mouth. The flesh of the rhinoceros is good to eat; -and its strong, thick skin is made by the natives into shields, whips, -and other articles. - -Though clumsy, and apparently very stupid, the rhinoceros is a very -active animal when attacked or otherwise alarmed. It is very fierce -and savage,--so much so, that the natives dread it more than they do -the lion. In hunting the rhinoceros, it is dangerous for a man to fire -at one, unless he is mounted upon a swift horse, and can easily reach -some place of safety. When attacking an enemy, the rhinoceros lowers -its head and rushes forward like an angry bull. Though it may not see -the object of its attack, its sense of smell is so acute that it knows -when the enemy is reached. Then begins a furious tossing of the head, -and if its powerful horn strikes the foe, a terrible wound is the -result. When wounded itself, the rhinoceros loses all sense of fear, -and charges again and again, with such desperate fury, that the enemy -is almost always overcome. - -[Illustration] - -A famous traveller in South Africa relates the following incident that -happened during one of his hunting excursions: - -“Having proceeded about two miles, I came upon a black rhinoceros, -feeding within fifty yards of me. I fired from my saddle, and sent a -bullet in behind his shoulder, upon which he rushed forward, blowing -like a grampus, and then stood looking about him. Presently he started -off, and I followed. I expected that he would come to bay, but it seems -a rhinoceros never does that,--a fact I did not know at that time. -Suddenly he fell flat upon the ground; but soon recovering his feet, he -resumed his course as if nothing had happened. - -“I spurred on my horse, dashed ahead, and rode right in his path. Upon -this, the hideous monster charged me in the most resolute manner, -blowing loudly through his nostrils. Although I quickly turned about, -he followed me at such a furious pace for several hundred yards, with -his horrid, horny snout within a few yards of my horse’s tail, that -I thought my destruction was certain. The animal, however, suddenly -turned and ran in another direction. I had now become so excited with -the incident, that I determined to give him one more shot any way. -Nerving my horse again, I made another dash after the rhinoceros, -and coming up pretty close to him, I again fired, though with little -effect, the ball striking some thick portion of the skin and doing no -harm. Not caring to run the chance of the huge brute again charging me, -and believing that my rifle-ball was not powerful enough to kill him, -I determined to give up the pursuit, and accordingly let him run off -while I returned to the camp.” - - - - -XIII.--THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. - -ELIZA COOK. - - - I love it, I love it, and who shall dare - To chide me for loving that old arm-chair? - I’ve treasured it long as a sainted prize, - I’ve bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs; - ’Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart; - Not a tie will break, not a link will start. - Would you learn the spell?--a mother sat there, - And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair. - - In childhood’s hour I lingered near - The hallowed seat with listening ear; - And gentle words that mother would give, - To fit me to die and teach me to live. - She told me shame would never betide, - With truth for my creed and God for my guide; - She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer, - As I knelt beside that old arm-chair. - - I sat and watched her many a day, - When her eyes grew dim, and her locks were gray; - And I almost worshipped her when she smiled - And turned from her Bible to bless her child. - Years rolled on, but the last one sped-- - My idol was shattered, my earth-star fled; - I learned how much the heart can bear, - When I saw her die in that old arm-chair. - - ’Tis past! ’tis past! but I gaze on it now - With quivering breath and throbbing brow: - ’Twas there she nursed me, ’twas there she died; - And memory flows with lava tide. - Say it is folly, and deem me weak, - While the scalding drops start down my cheek; - But I love it, I love it, and cannot tear - My soul from a mother’s old arm-chair. - - - - -XIV.--ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. - -LEIGH HUNT. - - - Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) - Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, - And saw, within the moonlight in his room, - Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, - An angel, writing in a book of gold:-- - Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, - And to the presence in the room he said, - “What writest thou?”--The vision raised its head, - And, with a look made of all sweet accord, - Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.” - “And is mine one?” said Abou. “Nay, not so,” - Replied the Angel. Abou spake more low, - But cheerily still; and said, “I pray thee, then, - Write me as one that loves his fellow-men.” - - The angel wrote and vanished. The next night - It came again with a great wakening light, - And showed the names whom love of God had blest, - And lo! Ben Adhem’s name led all the rest. - - - - -XV.--PRINCE ARTHUR. - -DICKENS. - - -At two-and-thirty years of age, in the year 1199, John became king of -England. His pretty little nephew, Arthur, had the best claim to the -throne; but John seized the treasure, and made fine promises to the -nobility, and got himself crowned at Westminster within a few weeks -after his brother Richard’s death. I doubt whether the crown could -possibly have been put upon the head of a meaner coward, or a more -detestable villain, if the country had been searched from end to end to -find him out. - -The French king, Philip, refused to acknowledge the right of John to -his new dignity, and declared in favor of Arthur. You must not suppose -that he had any generosity of feeling for the fatherless boy; it merely -suited his ambitious schemes to oppose the king of England. So John and -the French king went to war about Arthur. - -He was a handsome boy, at that time only twelve years old. He was -not born when his father, Geoffrey, had his brains trampled out at -the tournament; and, besides the misfortune of never having known a -father’s guidance and protection, he had the additional misfortune to -have a foolish mother (Constance by name), lately married to her third -husband. She took Arthur, upon John’s accession, to the French king, -who pretended to be very much his friend, and made him a knight, and -promised him his daughter in marriage; but who cared so little about -him in reality, that, finding it his interest to make peace with King -John for a time, he did so without the least consideration for the poor -little prince, and heartlessly sacrificed all his interests. - -Young Arthur, for two years afterwards, lived quietly, and in the -course of that time his mother died. But the French king, then finding -it his interest to quarrel with King John again, made Arthur his -pretence, and invited the orphan boy to court. “You know your rights, -prince,” said the French king, “and you would like to be a king. Is -it not so?” “Truly,” said Prince Arthur, “I should greatly like to be -a king!” “Then,” said Philip, “you shall have two hundred gentlemen -who are knights of mine, and with them you shall go to win back the -provinces belonging to you, of which your uncle, the usurping king of -England, has taken possession. I myself, meanwhile, will head a force -against him in Normandy.” - -Prince Arthur went to attack the town of Mirebeau, because his -grandmother, Eleanor, was living there, and because his knights said, -“Prince, if you can take her prisoner, you will be able to bring the -king your uncle to terms!” But she was not to be easily taken. She was -old enough by this time--eighty; but she was as full of stratagem as -she was full of years and wickedness. Receiving intelligence of young -Arthur’s approach, she shut herself up in a high tower, and encouraged -her soldiers to defend it like men. Prince Arthur with his little army -besieged the high tower. King John, hearing how matters stood, came up -to the rescue with his army. So here was a strange family party! The -boy-prince besieging his grandmother, and his uncle besieging him! - -This position of affairs did not last long. One summer night, King -John, by treachery, got his men into the town, surprised Prince -Arthur’s force, took two hundred of his knights, and seized the prince -himself in his bed. The knights were put in heavy irons, and driven -away in open carts, drawn by bullocks, to various dungeons, where they -were most inhumanly treated, and where some of them were starved to -death. Prince Arthur was sent to the Castle of Falaise. - -One day, while he was in prison at that castle, mournfully thinking it -strange that one so young should be in so much trouble, and looking -out of the small window in the deep, dark wall, at the summer sky and -the birds, the door was softly opened, and he saw his uncle, the king, -standing in the shadow of the archway, looking very grim. - -“Arthur,” said the king, with his wicked eyes more on the stone -floor than on his nephew, “will you not trust to the gentleness, the -friendship, and the truthfulness of your loving uncle?” “I will tell -my loving uncle that,” replied the boy, “when he does me right. Let -him restore to me my kingdom of England, and then come to me and ask -the question.” The king looked at him and went out. “Keep that boy a -close prisoner,” said he to the warden of the castle. Then the king -took secret counsel with the worst of his nobles, how the prince was to -be got rid of. Some said, “Put out his eyes and keep him in prison, as -Robert of Normandy was kept.” Others said, “Have him stabbed.” Others, -“Have him poisoned.” - -King John feeling that in any case, whatever was done afterwards, it -would be a satisfaction to his mind to have those handsome eyes burnt -out, that had looked at him so proudly, while his own royal eyes were -blinking at the stone floor, sent certain ruffians to Falaise to blind -the boy with red-hot irons. But Arthur so pathetically entreated them, -and shed such piteous tears, and so appealed to Hubert de Bourg (or -Burgh), the warden of the castle, who had a love for him, and was a -merciful, tender man, that Hubert could not bear it. To his eternal -honor, he prevented the torture from being performed; and, at his own -risk sent the savages away. - -The chafed and disappointed king bethought himself of the stabbing -suggestion next; and, with his shuffling manner and his cruel face, -proposed it to one William de Bray. “I am a gentleman, and not an -executioner,” said William de Bray, and left the presence with disdain. -But it was not difficult for a king to hire a murderer in those days. -King John found one for his money, and sent him down to the castle of -Falaise. “On what errand dost thou come?” said Hubert to this fellow. -“To despatch young Arthur,” he returned. “Go back to him who sent -thee,” answered Hubert, “and say that I will do it!” - -King John, very well knowing that Hubert would never do it, but that he -evasively sent this reply to save the prince or gain time, despatched -messengers to convey the young prisoner to the castle of Rouen. Arthur -was soon forced from the kind Hubert--of whom he had never stood in -greater need than then--carried away by night, and lodged in his new -prison; where, through his grated window, he could hear the deep waters -of the river Seine rippling against the stone wall below. - -One dark night, as he lay sleeping, dreaming, perhaps, of rescue by -those unfortunate gentlemen who were obscurely suffering and dying in -his cause, he was roused, and bidden by his jailor to come down the -staircase to the foot of the tower. He hurriedly dressed himself, and -obeyed. When they came to the bottom of the winding-stairs, the jailor -trod upon his torch, and put it out. Then Arthur, in the darkness, was -hurriedly drawn into a solitary boat; and in that boat he found his -uncle and one other man. - -He knelt to them, and prayed them not to murder him. Deaf to his -entreaties, they stabbed him, and sank his body in the river with heavy -stones. When the spring morning broke, the tower-door was closed, the -boat was gone, the river sparkled on its way, and never more was any -trace of the poor boy beheld by mortal eyes. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - Seine (_sān_) - Fă-lāise´ (_lāz_) - ruffians (_rŭf´yans_) - accession (_ak-sesh´un_) - Geoffrey (_jĕf´re_) - besieged (_be-sējd_) - dungeons (_dŭn´juns_) - tour´na-ment (_toor-_ or _tur-_) - Mirebeau (_meer´bō_) - usurping (_yū-zurp´ing_) - treachery (_trĕch´er-e_) - acknowledge (_ak-nŏl´ej_) - Nor´man-dy - mĕs´sen-gers - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Detestable villain.--2. _Declared in favor_ of Arthur.--3. - Ambitious schemes.--4. Heartlessly sacrificed his - interests.--5. Full of _stratagem_.--6. Inhumanly treated.--7. - Took _secret counsel_.--8. Arthur _pathetically entreated_.--9. - The _chafed_ and _disappointed_ king.--10. _To despatch_ - Arthur.--11. _Evasively_ sent this _reply_.--12. He prayed - them.--13. Solitary boat. - - - - -XVI.--A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. - -ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. - - - A wet sheet and a flowing sea, - A wind that follows fast, - And fills the white, and rustling sail, - And bends the gallant mast; - And bends the gallant mast, my boys, - While, like the eagle free, - Away the good ship flies, and leaves - Old England on the lee! - - “O for a soft and gentle wind!” - I heard a fair one cry; - But give to me the snoring breeze - And white waves heaving high; - And white waves heaving high, my boys, - The good ship tight and free,-- - The world of waters is our home, - And merry men are we. - - There’s tempest in yon hornèd moon, - And lightning in yon cloud; - And hark the music, mariners, - The wind is piping loud! - The wind is piping loud, my boys, - The lightning flashes free,-- - While the hollow oak our palace is, - Our heritage the sea. - - * * * * * - - _An idler is a watch that wants both hands,_ - _As useless if it goes as if it stands._ - - --_Cowper._ - - - - -XVII.--WE ARE SEVEN. - -WORDSWORTH. - - -[Illustration] - - A simple child, - That lightly draws its breath, - And feels its life in every limb, - What should it know of death? - - I met a little cottage girl: - She was eight years old, she said; - Her hair was thick with many a curl - That clustered round her head. - - She had a rustic, woodland air, - And she was wildly clad; - Her eyes were fair, and very fair: - Her beauty made me glad. - - “Sisters and brothers, little maid, - flow many may you be?” - “How many? Seven in all,” she said, - And wondering, looked at me. - - “And where are they? I pray you tell.” - She answered, “Seven are we; - And two of us at Conway dwell, - And two are gone to sea. - - “Two of us in the churchyard lie, - My sister and my brother; - And in the churchyard cottage, I - Dwell near them with my mother.” - - “You say that two at Conway dwell, - And two are gone to sea, - Yet you are seven!--I pray you tell, - Sweet maid, how this may be.” - - Then did the little maid reply, - “Seven boys and girls are we; - Two of us in the churchyard lie, - Beneath the churchyard tree.” - - “You run about, my little maid, - Your limbs they are alive; - If two are in the churchyard laid, - Then you are only five.” - - “Their graves are green, they may be seen,” - The little maid replied, - “Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door, - And they are side by side. - - “My stockings there I often knit, - My kerchief there I hem; - And there upon the ground I sit-- - I sit and sing to them. - - “And often after sunset, sir, - When it is light and fair, - I take my little porringer, - And eat my supper there. - - “The first that died was little Jane; - In bed she moaning lay, - Till God released her of her pain; - And then she went away. - - “So in the churchyard she was laid; - And, when the grass was dry, - Together round her grave we played, - My brother John and I. - - “And when the ground was white with snow, - And I could run and slide, - My brother John was forced to go, - And he lies by her side.” - - “How many are you, then,” said I, - “If they two are in heaven?” - The little maiden did reply, - “O master! we are seven.” - - “But they are dead; those two are dead! - Their spirits are in heaven!” - ’Twas throwing words away; for still - The little maid would have her will, - And said, “Nay, we are seven.” - - - - -XVIII.--THE HIPPOPOTAMUS. - - -[Illustration] - -Of all the ugly-looking animals the hippopotamus is certainly one of -the ugliest. Its name means the river-horse, and was given it because -it is generally found either in rivers or their neighborhood, but the -hippopotamus is nothing like a horse, either in its form or its habits. - -Though it rarely exceeds five feet in height, it is of vast bulk, and, -when full grown, will weigh, it is said, as much as four or five oxen. -The head is of enormous size, and provided with a mouth of alarming -width. The skin, which is of a dark color and thinly covered with short -white hairs, is, in places, nearly two inches thick. The feet are large -and divided into four parts, each of which is protected by a hoof. - -The hippopotamus lives entirely upon vegetable food, of which it eats -vast quantities, as much as six bushels of grass having been found -in its stomach. But it is not so much the amount of food which it -consumes, as what it destroys, that makes the African dread its visits -to the standing crops. Its body is so huge and its legs are so short -that it tramples down far more than it eats. It is provided with a -tremendous array of teeth, some of which weigh from five to eight -pounds. With these it cuts down the grass and shrubs on which it lives -as if they were mown with a scythe. - -The hippopotamus, in spite of its awkward form, is an excellent swimmer -and diver, and can remain under water for as much as ten minutes. -During the first few months of its life the young hippopotamus is -carried upon its mother’s neck. When born it is not much larger than a -terrier dog. - -The hippopotamus is caught in various ways. Sometimes several pitfalls, -having sharp stakes at the bottom, are dug across the path which it -pursues. In the darkness of the night it falls into one of these, and -is impaled on the stakes. This is a very cruel mode of capture, and -it is to be hoped that the natives who employ it, soon put the poor -animal out of its misery. It is not easy to shoot it fatally, for, -once it is alarmed, it does not readily show itself. It just pushes up -its nostrils above the water to take in air, often selecting for this -purpose some spot where the reeds conceal its movements, and then sinks -again. Sometimes the hippopotamus is harpooned like a whale. As soon -as it is struck with the harpoon the hunters fasten the line round a -neighboring tree, and so hold their prey tight until it is despatched. -Or, if there is no time for them to get to land, they throw the line, -with a buoy attached to it, into the water. The hippopotamus is then -pursued in canoes, and every time it rises to the surface it is pierced -with javelins, until, at length, it dies from loss of blood. This is -dangerous sport, for it sometimes turns upon the hunters and crushes -in or capsizes their canoes. Once a hippopotamus, whose calf had -been speared on the previous day, attacked a boat in which was Dr. -Livingstone. She struck it with such violence that the forepart was -lifted clean out of the water, one of the negro boatmen was thrown into -the river, and the whole crew were forced to jump ashore. - -Between the skin and the flesh is a layer of fat, which is considered -a great delicacy. The flesh also is very good eating. The hide is made -into shields, whips, and walking-sticks. The teeth yield a beautiful -white ivory, which is much valued on account of its never losing color. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - buoy (_bwoi_) - pit´falls - javelins (_jăv´lĭns_) - e-nor´mous - ter´ri-er - har-pooned´ - scythe - pierced - nŏs´trils - neighborhood (_nā´bur-_) - i´vo-ry - mĭs´er-y - hĭp-po-pot´a-mus - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Either in its _form_ or its _habits_.--2. Rarely - exceeds.--3. Vast bulk.--4. Alarming width.--5. Lives entirely - upon vegetable food.--6. Food which it _consumes_.--7. - Tremendous array.--8. Awkward form.--9. _Impaled_ on - the stakes.--10. Cruel mode of capture.--11. Shoot it - _fatally_.--12. The reeds _conceal its movements_.--13. The - hunters fasten the line.--14. Dangerous sport.--15. _Capsizes_ - their canoes.--16. Lifted _clean_ out of the water.--17. - Considered a delicacy. - - - - -XIX.--A BRIGHT BOY. - -PROF. J. S. BLACKIE. - - - Bill is a bright boy; - Do you know Bill? - Marching cheerily - Up and down hill; - Bill is a bright boy - At books and at play, - A right and a tight boy, - All the boys say. - - His face is like roses - In flush of the June; - His eyes like the welkin, - When cloudless the noon; - His step is like fountains - That bicker with glee, - Beneath the green mountains, - Down to the sea. - - When Bill plays at cricket, - No ball on the green - Is shot from the wicket - So sharp and so clean; - He stands at his station - As strong as a king - When he lifts up a nation - On Victory’s wing. - - When bent upon study, - He girds to his books; - No frown ever ploughs - The smooth pride of his looks; - I came, and I saw, - And I conquered at will: - This be the law - For great Cæsar and Bill. - - Like Thor with the hammer - Of power in his hand, - He rides through the grammar - Triumphant and grand; - O’er bastions and brambles - Which pedants up-pile, - He leaps and he ambles - Along with a smile. - - As mild as a maiden, - Where mildness belongs,-- - He’s hot as Achilles, - When goaded by wrongs; - He flirts with a danger, - He sports with an ill, - To fear, such a stranger - Is brave-hearted Bill! - - For Bill is a bright boy-- - Who is like Bill? - Oft have I marched with him - Up and down hill. - When I hear his voice calling, - I follow him still, - And, standing or falling, - I conquer with Bill! - - * * * * * - - _Do good by stealth and blush to find it fame._ - - --_Pope._ - - - - -XX.--AFTER BLENHEIM. - -ROBERT SOUTHEY. - - -[Illustration] - - It was a summer evening, - Old Kaspar’s work was done, - And he before his cottage door - Was sitting in the sun, - And by him sported on the green - His little grandchild Wilhelmine. - - She saw her brother Peterkin - Roll something large and round, - Which he beside the rivulet - In playing there had found; - He came to ask what he had found, - That was so large, and smooth, and round. - - Old Kaspar took it from the boy, - Who stood expectant by; - And then the old man shook his head, - And with a natural sigh: - “’Tis some poor fellow’s skull,” said he, - “Who fell in the great victory. - - “I find them in the garden, - For there’s many here about; - And often when I go to plough, - The ploughshare turns them out! - For many thousand men,” said he, - “Were slain in that great victory.” - - “Now tell us what ’twas all about,” - Young Peterkin, he cries; - And little Wilhelmine looks up, - With wonder-waiting eyes; - “Now tell us all about the war, - And what they fought each other for.” - - “It was the English,” Kaspar cried, - “Who put the French to rout; - But what they fought each other for, - I could not well make out; - But everybody said,” quoth he, - “That ’twas a famous victory. - - “My father lived at Blenheim then, - Yon little stream hard by; - They burnt his dwelling to the ground, - And he was forced to fly; - So with his wife and child he fled, - Nor had he where to rest his head. - - “With fire and sword the country round - Was wasted far and wide, - And many a childing mother then - And new-born baby died; - But things like that, you know, must be - At every famous victory. - - “They say it was a shocking sight - After the field was won; - For many thousand bodies here - Lay rotting in the sun; - But things like that, you know, must be - After a famous victory. - - “Great praise the Duke of Marlbro’ won, - And our good Prince Eugene.” - “Why, ’twas a very wicked thing!” - Said little Wilhelmine. - “Nay--nay--my little girl,” quoth he - “It was a famous victory. - - “And everybody praised the Duke - Who this great fight did win.” - “But what good came of it at last?” - Quoth little Peterkin. - “Why, that I cannot tell,” said he, - “But ’twas a famous victory.” - - -_Word Exercise._ - - fa´mous - vĭc´to-ry - Kas´par - quōth (or _kwŭth_) - shock´ing - nat´u-ral (_-yu_) - Eu-gēne´ - Wil´hel-mine (_mēn_) - Pe´ter-kin - rĭv´u-let - plough´share - Blĕn´heĭm - ex-pĕct´ant - - - - -XXI.--THE BLACK DOUGLAS. - - -[Illustration] - -King Edward I. of England, commonly known as “Longshanks,” nearly -conquered Scotland. It was from no lack of spirit or energy that he did -not quite complete his troublesome task, but he died a little too soon. -On his death-bed he called his pretty, spiritless son to him, and made -him promise to carry on the war; he then ordered that his bones should -be wrapped up in a bull’s hide, and carried at the head of the army in -future campaigns against the Scots. Edward II. soon forgot his promise -to his father, and spent his time in dissipation among his favorites, -and allowed the resolute Scots to recover Scotland. - -Good James, Lord Douglas, was a very wise man in his day. He may -not have had long shanks, but he had a very long head, as you shall -presently see. He was one of the hardest foes with which the two -Edwards had to contend, and his long head proved quite too powerful for -the second Edward, who, in his single campaign against the Scots, lost -at Bannockburn nearly all that his father had gained. - -The tall Scottish castle of Roxburgh stood near the border, lifting its -grim turrets above the Teviot and the Tweed. When the Black Douglas, -as Lord James was called, had recovered castle after castle from -the English, he desired to gain this stronghold, and determined to -accomplish his wish. But he knew it could be taken only by surprise, -and a very wily affair it must be. He had outwitted the English so many -times that they were sharply on the look out for him. - -How could it be done? - -’Tis an old Yule-log story, and you shall be told. - -Near the castle was a gloomy old forest, called Jedburgh. Here, just -as the first days of spring began to kindle in the sunrise and the -sunsets, and warm the frosty hills, Black Douglas concealed sixty -picked men. - -It was Shrove-tide, and Fasten’s Eve, immediately before the great -Church fast of Lent, was to be celebrated with song and harp and a -great blaze of light, and free offerings of wine in the great hall -of the castle. The garrison was to have leave for merry-making and -indulging in drunken wassail. - -The sun had gone down in the red sky, and the long, deep shadow -began to fall on Jedburgh woods, the river, the hills, and valleys. -An officer’s wife had retired from the great hall, where all was -preparation for the merry-making, to the high battlements of the -castle, in order to quiet her little child and put it to rest. The -sentinel, from time to time, paced near her. She began to sing:-- - - “Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye! - Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye; - The Black Douglas shall not get ye!” - -She saw some strange objects moving across the level ground in the -distance. They greatly puzzled her. They did not travel quite like -animals, but they seemed to have four legs. - -“What are those queer-looking things yonder?” she asked of the sentinel -as he drew near. - -“They are Farmer Asher’s cattle,” said the soldier, straining his eyes -to discern the outlines of the long figures in the shadows. “The good -man is making merry to-night, and has forgotten to bring in his oxen; -lucky ’twill be if they do not fall a prey to the Black Douglas.” - -So sure was he that the objects were cattle, that he ceased to watch -them longer. - -The woman’s eye, however, followed the queer-looking cattle for some -time, until they seemed to disappear under the outer works of the -castle. Then feeling quite at ease, she thought she would sing again. -Spring was in the evening air; and, perhaps, it was the joyousness of -spring which made her sing. - -Now, the name of the Black Douglas had become so terrible to the -English that it was used to frighten the children, who, when they -misbehaved, were told that the Black Douglas would get them. The little -ditty I have quoted must have been very quieting to good children in -those alarming times. - -So the good woman sang cheerily:-- - - “Hush ye, hush ye, little pet ye! - Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye: - The Black Douglas shall not get ye!” - -“Do not be so sure of that,” said a husky voice close beside her, and -a mail-gloved hand fell solidly upon her shoulder. She was dreadfully -frightened, for she knew from the appearance of the man he must be the -Black Douglas. - -The Scots came leaping over the walls. The garrison was merry making -below, and, almost before the disarmed revellers had any warning, the -Black Douglas was in the midst of them. The old stronghold was taken, -and many of the garrison were put to the sword; but the Black Douglas -spared the woman and the child, who probably never afterwards felt -quite so sure about the little ditty:-- - - “Hush ye, hush ye, do not fret ye: - The Black Douglas shall not get ye!” - -Douglas had caused his picked men to approach the castle by walking on -their hands and knees, with long black cloaks thrown over their bodies, -and their ladders and weapons concealed under their cloaks. The men -thus presented very nearly the appearance of a herd of cattle in the -deep shadows, and completely deceived the sentinel, who was probably -thinking more of the music and dancing below, than of the watchful -enemy who had been haunting the gloomy woods of Jedburgh. - -The Black Douglas, or “Good James, Lord Douglas,” as he was called by -the Scots, fought, as you will afterwards read, with King Robert Bruce -at Bannockburn. One lovely June day, in the far-gone year of 1329, King -Robert lay dying. He called Douglas to his bedside, and told him that -it had been one of the dearest wishes of his heart to go to the Holy -Land, and recover Jerusalem from the Infidels; but since he could not -go, he wished him to embalm his heart after his death, and carry it to -the Holy City, and deposit it in the Holy Sepulchre. - -Douglas had the heart of Bruce embalmed and enclosed in a silver case, -and wore it on a silver chain about his neck. He set out for Jerusalem, -but resolved first to visit Spain and engage in the war waged against -the Moorish king of Granada. He fell in Andalusia, in battle. Just -before his death he threw the silver casket into the thickest of the -fight, exclaiming, “Heart of Bruce, I follow thee or die!” - -His dead body was found beside the casket, and the heart of Bruce was -brought back to Scotland and deposited in the ivy-clad Abbey of Melrose. - -Douglas was a real hero, and few things more engaging than his exploits -were ever told under the holly and mistletoe, or in the warm Christmas -light of the old Scottish Yule-logs. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - Te´vi-ot - rĕv´el-lers - weapons (_wĕp´pns_) - Jedburgh (_jĕd´bŭr-rŭh_) - wassail (_wŏs´sil_) - Andalusia (_an-da-lu´she-a_) - haunting (_hänt´ing_) - Roxburgh (_rŏx´bŭr-rŭh_) - Doŭg´las - Sepulchre (sĕpul-ker) - Mel-rōse´ - găr´ri-son (_-sn_) - dĭs-si-pa´tion - Gra-nä´dä - Je-rū´sa-lĕm - Ban´nock-burn - - - - -XXII.--BRUCE AND THE SPIDER. - -ELIZA COOK. - - -[Illustration] - - King Bruce of Scotland flung himself down in a lonely mood to think; - ’Tis true he was monarch, and wore a crown, but his heart was beginning - to sink, - For he had been trying to do a great deed to make his people glad, - He had tried and tried, but couldn’t succeed, and so he became quite sad. - - He flung himself down in low despair, as grieved as man could be; - And after a while as he pondered there, “I’ll give it all up,” said he. - Now just at the moment a spider dropped, with its silken cobweb clew, - And the king in the midst of his thinking stopped to see what the spider - would do. - - ’Twas a long way up to the ceiling dome, and it hung by a rope so fine, - That how it would get to its cobweb home, King Bruce could not divine. - It soon began to cling and crawl straight up with strong endeavor, - But down it came, with a slipping sprawl, as near to the ground as ever. - - Up, up it ran, not a second it stayed, to utter the least complaint, - Till it fell still lower, and there it lay, a little dizzy, and faint. - Its head grew steady--again it went, and travelled a half yard higher, - ’Twas a delicate thread it had to tread, and a road where its feet would - tire. - - Again it fell and swung below, but again it quickly mounted, - Till up and down, now fast, now slow, nine brave attempts were counted. - “Sure,” cried the king, “that foolish thing will strive no more to climb, - When it toils so hard to reach and cling, and tumbles every time.” - - But up the insect went once more, ah me, ’tis an anxious minute, - He’s only a foot from his cobweb door, oh, say will he lose or win it? - Steadily, steadily, inch by inch, higher and higher he got, - And a bold little run at the very last pinch, put him into his native - spot. - - “Bravo, bravo!” the king cried out, “all honor to those who try; - The spider up there defied despair, he conquered, and why shouldn’t I?” - And Bruce of Scotland braced his mind, and gossips tell the tale, - That he tried once more as he tried before, and that time he did not - fail. - - Pay goodly heed, all you who read, and beware of saying. “I can’t,” - ’Tis a cowardly word, and apt to lead to Idleness, Folly, and Want. - Whenever you find your heart despair of doing some goodly thing, - Con over this strain, try bravely again, and remember the Spider and - King. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - ceil´ing (_sēl´ing_) - gŏs´sips - idleness (_ī´dl-nĕs_) - travelled (_trăv´eld_) - grieved (_grēvd_) - anx´ious (_angk´shus_) - mon´arch (_mon´ark_) - endeavor (_en-dĕv´or_) - pŏn´dered - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Lonely mood.--2. His heart was beginning to sink.--3. Low - despair.--4. Silken clew.--5. Ceiling dome.--6. Bruce could not - _divine_.--7. Strong endeavor.--8. Slipping sprawl.--9. Bruce - _braced his mind_.--10. Con over this strain. - - - - -XXIII.--THE FARMER AND THE FOX. - -J. A. FROUDE. - - -A Farmer, whose poultry-yard had suffered severely from the foxes, -succeeded at last in catching one in a trap. - -“Ah, you rascal!” said he, as he saw him struggling, “I’ll teach you -to steal my fat geese. You shall hang on the tree yonder, and your -brothers shall see what comes of thieving.” - -The Farmer was twisting a halter to do what he had threatened, when the -Fox, whose tongue had helped him in hard pinches before, thought there -could be no harm in trying if it might not do him one more good turn. - -“You will hang me,” he said, “to frighten my brother foxes. On the word -of a fox they won’t care a rabbit-skin for it; they’ll come and look at -me, but you may depend upon it, they will dine at your expense before -they go home again!” - -“Then I shall hang you for yourself, as a rogue and a rascal,” said the -Farmer. - -“I am only what Nature, or whatever you call the thing, chose to make -me,” the Fox answered; “I didn’t make myself.” - -“You stole my geese,” said the man. - -“Why did Nature make me like geese, then?” said the Fox. “Live and let -live; give me my share and I won’t touch yours; but you keep them all -to yourself.” - -“I don’t understand your fine talk,” answered the Farmer; “but I know -that you are a thief, and that you deserve to be hanged.” - -His head is too thick to let me catch him so, thought the Fox; I -wonder if his heart is any softer. “You are taking away the life of a -fellow-creature,” he said; “that’s a responsibility,--it is a curious -thing that life, and who knows what comes after it? You say I am a -rogue; I say I am not; but at any rate I ought not to be hanged, for if -I am not, I don’t deserve it; and if I am, you should give me time to -repent.” I have him now, thought the Fox; let him get out if he can. - -“Why, what would you have me do with you?” said the man. - -“My notion is, that you should let me go, and give me a lamb, or a -goose or two, every month, and then I could live without stealing; but -perhaps you know better than I, and I am a rogue; my education may have -been neglected; you should shut me up, and take care of me, and teach -me. Who knows but in the end I may turn into a dog?” - -“Very pretty,” said the Farmer; “we have dogs enough, and more, too, -than we can take care of, without you. No, no, Master Fox; I have -caught you, and you shall swing, whatever is the logic of it. There -will be one rogue less in the world, any how.” - -“It is mere hate and unchristian vengeance,” said the Fox. - -“No, friend,” the Farmer answered, “I don’t hate you, and I don’t want -to revenge myself on you; but you and I can’t get on together, and I -think I am of more importance than you. If nettles and thistles grow in -my cabbage-garden, I don’t try and persuade them to grow into cabbages. -I just dig them up. I don’t hate them; but I feel somehow that they -mustn’t hinder me with my cabbage, and that I must put them away; and -so, my poor friend, I am sorry for you, but I am afraid you must swing.” - - - - -XXIV.--A CANADIAN BOAT SONG. - -THOMAS MOORE. - - -[Written on the river Ottawa in the summer of 1804.] - - Faintly as tolls the evening chime, - Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time; - Soon as the woods on the shore look dim, - We’ll sing at St. Anne’s our parting hymn. - Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, - The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past. - - Why should we yet our sail unfurl? - There is not a breath the blue wave to curl; - But when the wind blows off the shore, - O sweetly we’ll rest our weary oar. - Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, - The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past. - - Utaw’a’s tide! this trembling moon - Shall see us float over thy surges soon. - Saint of this green isle! hear our prayers; - O grant us cool heavens, and favoring airs. - Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, - The Rapids are near, and the daylight’s past. - - - - -XXV.--THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. - -LONGFELLOW. - - - It was the schooner Hesperus, - That sailed the wintry sea; - And the skipper had taken his little daughter, - To bear him company. - - Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax, - Her cheeks like the dawn of day, - And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds, - That ope in the month of May. - - The skipper he stood beside the helm, - His pipe was in his mouth, - And he watched how the veering flaw did blow - The smoke now west, now south. - - Then up and spake an old sailor, - Had sailed the Spanish Main, - “I pray thee put into yonder port. - For I fear a hurricane. - - “Last night the moon had a golden ring, - And to-night no moon we see!” - The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe, - And a scornful laugh laughed he. - - Colder and louder blew the wind, - A gale from the north-east; - The snow fell hissing in the brine, - And the billows frothed like yeast. - - Down came the storm, and smote amain - The vessel in its strength; - She shuddered and paused, like a frighted steed, - Then leaped her cable’s length. - - “Come hither! come hither! my little daughter, - And do not tremble so; - For I can weather the roughest gale, - That ever wind did blow.” - - He wrapped her warm in his seaman’s coat, - Against the stinging blast; - He cut a rope from a broken spar, - And bound her to the mast. - - “O father! I hear the church bells ring, - O say, what may it be?” - “’Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast!”-- - And he steered for the open sea. - - “O father! I hear the sound of guns, - O say what may it be?” - “Some ship in distress, that cannot live - In such an angry sea!” - - “O father! I see a gleaming light, - O say, what may it be?” - But the father answered never a word,-- - A frozen corpse was he. - - Lashed to the helm, all stiff and stark, - With his face turned to the skies, - The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow - On his fixed and glassy eyes. - - Then the maiden clasped her hands and prayed - That savèd she might be; - And she thought of Him who stilled the wave - On the Lake of Galilee. - - And fast through the midnight dark and drear, - Through the whistling sleet and snow, - Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept - Towards the reef of Norman’s Woe. - - And ever the fitful gusts between - A sound came from the land; - It was the sound of the trampling surf, - On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. - - The breakers were right beneath her bows,-- - She drifted a dreary wreck, - And the whooping billow swept the crew - Like icicles from her deck. - - She struck where the white and fleecy waves - Looked soft as carded wool, - But the cruel rocks, they gored her side - Like the horns of an angry bull. - - Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, - With the masts went by the board; - Like a vessel of glass she stove and sank-- - Ho! Ho! the breakers roared! - - At daybreak on the bleak sea-beach, - A fisherman stood aghast, - To see the form of a maiden fair - Lashed close to a drifting mast. - - The salt sea was frozen on her breast, - The salt tears in her eyes; - And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed, - On the billows fall and rise. - - Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, - In the midnight and the snow; - Oh! save us all from a death like this, - On the reef of Norman’s Woe! - - -_Word Exercise._ - - yeast (_yēst_) - aghast (_a-gast´_) - icicles (_ī´sik-kls_) - whistling (_hwis´ling_) - gored - steered - skip´per - fright´ed - wreck - frothed - Span´ish - haw´thorn - a-main´ - sheeted - schoon´er - whoop´ing - lăn´tern - Găl´i-lēe - Hĕs´pe-rŭs - hŭr´ri-cāne - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. _To bear_ him company.--2. _Fairy_ flax.--3. Veering - flaw.--4. Spanish Main.--5. The moon had a _golden ring_.--6. - _Scornful_ laugh.--7. I can weather the roughest gale.--8. - _Stinging_ blast.--9. Rock-bound coast.--10. In distress.--11. - _Gleaming_ light.--12. Stiff and stark.--13. Norman’s Woe.--14. - Fitful gusts.--15. By the board.--16. Whooping billow. - - * * * * * - - _The blue skies smile, and flowers bloom on,_ - _And rivers still keep flowing,_ - _The dear God still his rain and sun_ - _On good and ill bestowing._ - _His pine trees whisper, “Trust and wait!”_ - _His flowers are prophesying_ - _That all we dread of change or fate_ - _His love is underlying._ - - --_J. G. Whittier._ - - - - -XXVI.--HOLLAND. - -MARY MAPES DODGE. - - -Dutch cities seem, at first sight, to be a bewildering jumble of -houses, bridges, churches, and ships, sprouting into masts, steeples, -and trees. In some cities boats are hitched, like horses, to their -owners’ door-posts, and receive their freight from the upper windows. - -Mothers scream to their children not to swing on the garden gate for -fear they may be drowned. Water roads are more frequent in Holland than -common roads and railroads; water fences, in the form of lazy green -ditches, enclose pleasure-ground, farm, and garden. - -Sometimes fine green hedges are seen; but wooden fences, such as we -have, are rarely met with in Holland. As for stone fences, a Hollander -would lift his hands with astonishment at the very idea. There is no -stone there, excepting those great, masses of rock that have been -brought from other lands, to strengthen and protect the coast. All the -small stones or pebbles, if there ever were any, seem to be imprisoned -in pavements or quite melted away. Boys, with strong, quick arms, may -grow from aprons to full beards, without ever finding one to start the -water-rings, or set the rabbits flying. - -The water-roads are nothing less than canals crossing the country in -every direction. These are of all sizes, from the great North Holland -Ship Canal, which is the wonder of the world, to those which a boy can -leap. Water-omnibuses constantly ply up and down these roads for the -conveyance of passengers; and water-drays are used for carrying fuel -and merchandise. - -[Illustration] - -Instead of green country lanes, green canals stretch from field to -barn, and from barn to garden; and the farms are merely great lakes -pumped dry. Some of the busiest streets are water, while many of the -country roads are paved with brick. The city boats, with their rounded -sterns, gilded bows, and gayly-painted sides, are unlike any others -under the sun; a Dutch waggon, with its funny little crooked pole, is a -perfect mystery of mysteries. - -One thing is clear, you may think that the inhabitants need never be -thirsty. But no, Odd-land is true to itself still. With the sea pushing -to get in, and the lakes struggling to get out, and the overflowing -canals, rivers, and ditches, in many districts there is no water that -is fit to swallow. Our poor Hollanders must go dry, or send far inland -for that precious fluid, older than Adam, yet young as the morning dew. -Sometimes, indeed, the inhabitants can swallow a shower, when they are -provided with any means of catching it; but generally they are like the -sailors told of in a famous poem, who saw - - “Water, water, everywhere, - Nor any drop to drink!” - -Great flapping windmills all over the country make it look as if flocks -of huge sea-birds were just settling upon it. Everywhere one sees the -funniest trees, bobbed into all sorts of odd shapes, with their trunks -painted a dazzling white, yellow, or red. - -Horses are often yoked three abreast. Men, women and children go -clattering about in wooden shoes with loose heels. - -Husbands and wives lovingly harness themselves side by side on the bank -of the canal and drag their produce to market. - - - - -XXVII.--EVENING HYMN. - -JOHN KEBLE. - - - Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, - It is not night if Thou be near; - Oh! may no earth-born cloud arise - To hide Thee from Thy servant’s eyes! - - When the soft dews of kindly sleep - My wearied eyelids gently steep, - Be my last thought, how sweet to rest - For ever on my Saviour’s breast! - - Abide with me from morn till eve, - For without Thee I cannot live! - Abide with me when night is nigh, - For without Thee I dare not die! - - If some poor wandering child of Thine - Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine,-- - Now, Lord, the gracious work begin; - Let him no more lie down in sin! - - Watch by the sick, enrich the poor - With blessings from Thy boundless store! - Be every mourner’s sleep to-night - Like infant’s slumbers, pure and light! - - Come near and bless us when we wake, - Ere through the world our way we take: - Till, in the ocean of Thy love, - We lose ourselves in Heaven above! - - - - -XXVIII.--PSALM XXIII. - - - The Lord is my shepherd; - I shall not want. - He maketh me to lie down - In green pastures: - He leadeth me beside the still waters. - He restoreth my soul: - He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness - For his name’s sake. - - Yea, though I walk through the valley - Of the shadow of death, - I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; - Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. - Thou preparest a table before me - In the presence of mine enemies: - Thou anointest my head with oil; - My cup runneth over. - Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me - All the days of my life: - And I will dwell in the house of the Lord - For ever. - - - - -XXIX.--THE HEROIC SERF. - - -In the dark forests of Russia, where the snow lies on the ground for -eight months in the year, wolves roam about in countless troops; and -it is a fearful thing for the traveller, especially if night overtakes -him, to hear their famished howlings as they approach nearer and nearer -to him. - -A Russian nobleman, with his wife and a young daughter, was travelling -in a sleigh over a bleak plain. About nightfall they reached an inn, -and the nobleman called for a relay of horses to go on. The innkeeper -begged him not to proceed. “There is danger ahead,” said he: “the -wolves are out.” The traveller thought the object of the man was to -keep him as a guest for the night, and, saying it was too early in the -season for wolves, ordered the horses to be put to. In spite of the -repeated warnings of the landlord, the party proceeded on their way. - -The driver was a serf who had been born on the nobleman’s estate, and -who loved his master as he loved his life. The sleigh sped swiftly over -the hard snow, and there seemed no signs of danger. The moon began to -shed her light, so that the road seemed like polished silver. - -Suddenly the little girl said to her father, “What is that strange, -dull sound I heard just now?” Her father replied, “Nothing but the wind -sighing through the trees.” - -The child shut her eyes, and kept still for a while; but in a few -minutes, with a face pale with fear, she turned to her father, and -said, “Surely that is not the wind: I hear it again; do you not hear it -too? Listen!” The nobleman listened, and far, far away in the distance -behind him, but distinct enough in the clear, frosty air, he heard a -sound of which he knew the meaning, though those who were with him did -not. - -Whispering to the serf, he said, “They are after us. Get ready your -musket and pistols; I will do the same. We may yet escape. Drive on! -drive on!” - -The man drove wildly on; but nearer, ever nearer, came the mournful -howling which the child had first heard. It was perfectly clear to -the nobleman that a pack of wolves had got scent, and was in pursuit -of them. Meanwhile he tried to calm the anxious fears of his wife and -child. - -At last the baying of the wolves was distinctly heard, and he said to -his servant, “When they come up with us, single you out the leader, and -fire. I will single out the next; and, as soon as one falls, the rest -will stop to devour him. _That_ will be some delay, at least.” - -By this time they could see the pack fast approaching, with their long, -measured tread. A large dog-wolf was the leader. The nobleman and the -serf singled out two, and these fell. The pack immediately turned on -their fallen comrades, and soon tore them to pieces. The taste of blood -only made the others advance with more fury, and they were soon again -baying at the sleigh. Again the nobleman and his servant fired. Two -other wolves fell, and were instantly devoured. But the next post-house -was still far distant. - -The nobleman then cried to the post-boy, “Let one of the horses loose, -that we may gain a little more time.” This was done, and the horse was -left on the road. In a few minutes they heard the loud shrieks of the -poor animal as the wolves tore him down. The remaining horses were -urged to their utmost speed, but again the pack was in full pursuit. -Another horse was cut loose, and he soon shared the fate of his fellow. - -At length the servant said to his master, “I have served you since I -was a child, and I love you as I love my own life. It is clear to me -that we can not all reach the post-house alive. I am quite prepared, -and I ask you to let me die for you.” - -“No, no!” cried the master, “we will live together or die together. You -must not, must not!” - -But the servant had made up his mind; he was fully resolved. “I shall -leave my wife and children to you; you will be a father to them: you -have been a father to me. When the wolves next reach us, I will jump -down, and do my best to delay their progress.” - -[Illustration] - -The sleigh glides on as fast as the two remaining horses can drag it. -The wolves are close on their track, and almost up with them. But -what sound now rings out sharp and loud? It is the discharge of the -servant’s pistol. At the same instant he leaps from his seat, and falls -a prey to the wolves! But meanwhile the post-house is reached, and the -family is safe. - -On the spot where the wolves had pulled to pieces the devoted servant, -there now stands a large wooden cross, erected by the nobleman. It -bears this inscription: “_Greater love hath no man than this, that a -man lay down his life for his friends._” - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Heroic serf.--2. Famished howlings.--3. Bleak plain.--4. _A - relay_ of horses.--5. _Ordered_ the horses _to be put to_.--6. - Repeated warnings.--7. The moon began _to shed_ her light.--8. - _Pack_ of wolves.--9. Had got scent of them.--10. To calm the - anxious fears.--11. _Baying_ at the sleigh.--12. Instantly - devoured.--13. Fully resolved.--14. To delay their progress. - - - - -XXX.--THERE’S A GOOD TIME COMING. - -CHARLES MACKAY. - - - There’s a good time coming, boys, - A good time coming: - We may not live to see the day, - But earth shall glisten in the ray - Of the good time coming. - Cannon-balls may aid the truth, - But thought’s a weapon stronger; - We’ll win our battle by its aid;-- - Wait a little longer. - - There’s a good time coming, boys, - A good time coming: - The pen shall supersede the sword, - And Right, not Might, shall be the lord - In the good time coming. - Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind, - And be acknowledged stronger; - The proper impulse has been given;-- - Wait a little longer. - - There’s a good time coming, boys, - A good time coming:-- - War in all men’s eyes shall be - A monster of iniquity - In the good time coming; - Nations shall not quarrel then, - To prove which is the stronger; - Nor slaughter men for glory’s sake;-- - Wait a little longer. - - There’s a good time coming, boys, - A good time coming: - Hateful rivalries of creed - Shall not make their martyrs bleed - In the good time coming. - Religion shall be shorn of pride, - And flourish all the stronger; - And Charity shall trim her lamp;-- - Wait a little longer. - - There’s a good time coming, boys, - A good time coming: - Let us aid it all we can, - Every woman, every man, - The good time coming. - Smallest helps, if rightly given, - Make the impulse stronger; - ’Twill be strong enough one day;-- - Wait a little longer. - - - - -XXXI.--JOHN BROWN; OR, A PLAIN MAN’S PHILOSOPHY. - -CHARLES MACKAY. - - - I’ve a guinea I can spend, - I’ve a wife and a friend, - And a troop of little children at my knee, John Brown; - I’ve a cottage of my own, - With the ivy overgrown, - And a garden with a view of the sea, John Brown; - I can sit at my door, - By my shady sycamore, - Large of heart, though of very small estate, John Brown; - So of water drain a glass, - In my arbor as you pass, - And I’ll tell you what I love, and what I hate, John Brown. - - I love the song of birds, - And the children’s early words, - And a loving woman’s voice, low and sweet, John Brown; - And I hate a false pretence, - And the want of common sense, - And arrogance, and fawning, and deceit, John Brown. - I love the meadow flowers, - And the briar in the bowers, - And I love an open face without guile, John Brown; - And I hate a selfish knave, - And a proud, contented slave, - And a lout who’d rather borrow than he’d toil, John Brown. - - I love a simple song, - That awakes emotions strong, - And the word of hope which raises him who faints, John Brown; - And I hate the constant whine - Of the foolish who repine, - And turn their good to evil by complaints, John Brown; - But ever when I hate,-- - If I seek my garden gate, - And survey the world around me and above, John Brown,-- - The hatred flies my mind, - And I sigh for human kind, - And excuse the faults of those I cannot love, John Brown. - - So if you like my ways, - And the comfort of my days, - I can tell you how I live so unvexed, John Brown; - I never scorn my health, - Nor sell my soul for wealth, - Nor destroy one day the pleasure of the next, John Brown; - I’ve parted with my pride, - And I take the sunny side, - For I’ve found it worse than folly to be sad, John Brown; - I keep a conscience clear, - I’ve a hundred pounds a year, - And I manage to exist and to be glad, John Brown. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Large of heart.--2. Small estate.--3. _Drain_ a glass.--4. - Children’s _early words_.--5. False pretence.--6. Common - sense.--7.--Open face without guile.--8. Selfish knave.--9. - Contented slave.--10. Simple song.--11. Awakes emotions - strong.--12. Constant whine.--13. _Survey_ the world.--14. - Excuse the faults.--15. _Scorn_ my health.--16. Sell my soul - for wealth.--17. Sunny side.--18. Conscience _clear_.--19. - Manage to exist. - - - - -XXXII.--THE OTTER. - - -[Illustration] - -The otter resembles land animals in shape, hair, and general -conformation, and the aquatic tribes in its manner of living and in its -webbed toes, which assist it in swimming. It swims even faster than it -runs, and can overtake fishes in their own element. - -It is found in all parts of the world,--on tropical islands, in -America, and on the bleak coasts of Alaska and Siberia. It is one of -the great weasel family, as active and cunning in the water, as its -land relations are in the field, or in the farm-yard. - -The fish-otter--which is found around lakes and rivers in Canada, in -the United States, in South America, and in wild parts of Europe--is -a famous fisher. Its home is in the water, but it can travel over the -land with wonderful swiftness, although its paws are webbed. - -It is very fond of sliding down hill. On the slopes by ponds and -rivers, it enjoys itself in a very odd fashion. It lies with its -fore-feet bent backward, and pushes itself forward with its hind-feet, -going down the snowy or muddy slope with as much pleasure as if it were -a schoolboy “coasting.” A number of fish-otters thus amusing themselves -must present a very ludicrous sight. - -These furry little quadrupeds can stay a long time under water, -swimming swiftly and without noise; so that the fish they follow seldom -escape them. If the prey is small, the otters do not trouble themselves -to go far with it, but bite off the most delicate morsels and throw the -rest away. When they catch a large fish, however, they drag it ashore -and feed upon it at their leisure. When fish are not plentiful enough, -the otters, grown bold from necessity, will attack ducks or any other -waterfowl within reach. They are so strong, and bite so fiercely, that -the animals they pursue may well regard them with terror. - -Their habitations are really safe hiding-places. They burrow under the -ground, and make the entrance of their “nest” under water; so that no -land-enemies can pursue them: certainly, no water-foe can follow them -into the hollow made by them in the bank. This proves that the crafty -nature of the weasel is not wanting in the otter. - -They dig upward four or five feet, or even more; and at the end of -the tunnel they make a little room, which they line with moss and -grass, for the comfort of the baby-otters. This underground room has no -need of windows; but it does need ventilation, and a minute air-hole, -leading, like a chimney, to the surface of the earth, is an important -part of otter house-building. - -When taken young, otters can be tamed and taught to catch fish for -their masters, being trained to hunt as dogs are trained for the chase. -“I have seen one,” says Goldsmith, “go to a gentleman’s pond at the -word of command, drive up the fish into a corner, and, having seized -upon the largest, bring it off in its mouth to its master.” - -Otters differ very much in size and color. Fish-otters are from two -to three feet long, and sea-otters--the largest of the family--are -somewhat longer. These sea-otters are very much prized for their -soft, glossy, black fur. Some of the species, however are white, with -a yellow tinge; others are dark-brown, with yellow spots under the -throat. No doubt all of you have seen caps, and gloves, and other -coverings made of the soft, warm fur of the otter. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - weasel (_wē´zl_) - leisure (_lē´zhur_) - trŏp’i-cal - resembles (_re-zĕm´bls_) - Sī-bē-ri-a - rē´al-ly - burrow (_bŭr´rō_) - A-mĕr´i-ca - par-tĭc´-ū-lar - A-las´ka - lū´di-croŭs - vĕn-ti-lā´tion - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. General conformation.--2. Aquatic tribes.--3. Bleak - coast.--4. _Wild_ parts.--5. Odd fashion.--6. Ludicrous - sight.--7. Furry quadrupeds.--8. Delicate morsels.--9. Crafty - nature.--10. Minute air-hole.--11. Differ in size.--12. Much - prized. - - - - -XXXIII.--THE IVY GREEN. - -CHARLES DICKENS. - - -[Illustration] - - Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy Green, - That creepeth o’er ruins old! - Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, - In his cell so lone and cold. - The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed, - To pleasure his dainty whim; - And the mouldering dust that years have made - Is a merry meal for him. - Creeping where no life is seen, - A rare old plant is the Ivy Green. - - Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, - And a staunch old heart has he; - How closely he twineth, how tight he clings - To his friend, the huge Oak-tree! - And slyly he traileth along the ground, - And his leaves he gently waves, - As he joyously hugs and crawleth around - The rich mould of dead men’s graves. - Creeping where grim death has been, - A rare old plant is the Ivy Green. - - Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed, - And nations have scattered been, - But the stout old Ivy shall never fade - From its hale and hearty green. - The brave old plant, in its lonely days, - Shall fatten upon the past, - For the stateliest building man can raise - Is the Ivy’s food at last. - Creeping on, where time has been, - A rare old plant is the Ivy Green. - - - - -XXXIV.--THE SEA. - -BRYAN WALLER PROCTER. - - - The Sea! the Sea! the open Sea! - The blue, the fresh, the ever free! - Without a mark, without a bound, - It runneth the earth’s wide regions round; - It plays with the clouds; it mocks the skies; - Or like a cradled creature lies. - - I’m on the Sea! I’m on the Sea! - I am where I would ever be, - With the blue above, and the blue below, - And silence whereso’er I go: - If a storm should come, and awake the deep, - What matter? I shall ride and sleep. - - I love, oh how I love, to ride - On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide, - When every mad wave drowns the moon, - Or whistles aloft its tempest tune, - And tells how goeth the world below, - And why the south-west blasts do blow! - - I never was on the dull, tame shore, - But I loved the great Sea more and more, - And backward flew to her billowy breast, - Like a bird that seeketh its mother’s nest: - And a mother she was and is to me; - For I was born on the open Sea! - - The waves were white, and red the morn, - In the noisy hour when I was born; - And the whale it whistled, the porpoise rolled, - And the dolphins bared their backs of gold; - And never was heard such an outcry wild - As welcomed to life the Ocean-child. - - I’ve lived since then, in calm and strife, - Full fifty summers a sailor’s life, - With wealth to spend, and power to range, - But never have sought, nor sighed for change; - And Death, whenever he comes to me, - Shall come on the wild unbounded sea! - - -_Word Exercise._ - - sighed - porpoise´(_por´pŭs_) - bil´low-y - dol´phins (_-fins_) - cradled - foam´ing - tem´pest - creature - burst´ing - un-bound´ed - - - - -XXXV.--HO! BREAKERS ON THE WEATHER BOW. - -SWAIN. - - - Ho! breakers on the weather bow, - And hissing white the sea; - Go, loose the topsail, mariner, - And set the helm a-lee; - And set the helm a-lee, my boys, - And shift her while ye may; - Or not a living soul on board - Will view the light of day! - - Aloft the seaman daringly - Shook out the rattling sail; - The danger fled--she leapt a-head - Like wild stag through the gale; - Like wild stag through the gale, my boys, - All panting as in fear, - And trembling as her spirit knew - Destruction in the rear! - - Now slacken speed--take wary heed-- - All hands haul home the sheet; - To Him who saves, amidst the waves, - Let each their prayer repeat; - Let each their prayer repeat, my boys, - For but a moment’s gain - Lay ’tween our breath and instant death, - Within that howling main. - - - - -XXXVI.--A CHILD’S DREAM OF A STAR. - -CHARLES DICKENS. - - -There was once a child, and he strolled about a good deal, and thought -of a number of things. He had a sister, who was a child too, and -his constant companion. These two used to wonder all day long. They -wondered at the beauty of the flowers; they wondered at the height and -blueness of the sky; they wondered at the goodness and the power of -God, who made the lovely world. - -They used to say to one another sometimes, “Supposing all the children -upon earth were to die, would the flowers, and the water, and the sky -be sorry?” They believed they would be sorry. “For,” said they, “the -buds are the children of the flowers, and the little playful streams -that gambol down the hillsides are the children of the water; and the -smallest bright specks, playing at hide-and-seek in the sky all night, -must surely be the children of the stars; and they would all be grieved -to see their playmates, the children of men, no more.” - -There was one clear-shining star that used to come out in the sky -before the rest, near the church spire, above the graves. It was larger -and more beautiful, they thought, than all the others, and every night -they watched for it, standing hand in hand at a window. Whoever saw -it first cried out, “I see the star!” And often they cried out both -together, knowing so well when it would rise, and where. So they grew -to be such friends with it, that, before lying down on their beds, they -always looked out once again, to bid it good-night; and when they were -turning round to sleep they used to say, “God bless the star!” - -But while she was still very young--oh, very, very young!--the sister -drooped, and came to be so weak, that she could no longer stand at the -window at night; and then the child looked sadly out by himself, and -when he saw the star, turned round and said to the patient, pale face -on the bed, “I see the star!” and then a smile would come upon the -face, and a little, weak voice used to say, “God bless my brother and -the star!” - -And so the time came, all too soon! when the child looked out alone, -and when there was no face on the bed; and when there was a little -grave among the graves, not there before; and when the star made long -rays down towards him, as he saw it through his tears. - -Now, these rays were so bright, and they seemed to make such a shining -way from earth to heaven, that when the child went to his solitary bed, -he dreamed about the star; and dreamed that, lying where he was, he saw -a train of people taken up that sparkling road by angels. And the star, -opening, showed him a great world of light, where many more such angels -waited to receive him. - -All these angels, who were waiting, turned their beaming eyes upon the -people who were carried up into the star; and some came out from the -long rows in which they stood, and fell upon the people’s necks, and -kissed them tenderly, and went away with them down avenues of light, -and were so happy in their company, that, lying in his bed, he wept for -joy. - -But there were many angels who did not go with them, and among them -one he knew. The patient face that once had lain upon the bed was -glorified and radiant, but his heart found out his sister among all the -host. His sister’s angel lingered near the entrance of the star, and -said to the leader among those who had brought the people thither, “Is -my brother come?” And he said, “No.” She was turning hopefully away, -when the child stretched out his arms, and cried, “O sister, I am here! -Take me!” And then she turned her beaming eyes upon him, and it was -night; and the star was shining into the room, making long rays down -towards him, as he saw it through his tears. From that hour forth, the -child looked out upon the star as on the Home he was to go to when his -time should come; and he thought that he did not belong to the earth -alone, but to the star too, because of his sister’s angel gone before. -There was a baby born to be a brother to the child; and while he was so -little that he never yet had spoken a word, he stretched his tiny form -out on the bed, and died. - -Again the child dreamed of the opened star, and of the company of -angels, and the train of people, and the rows of angels, with their -beaming eyes all turned upon those people’s faces. Said his sister’s -angel to the leader, “Is my brother come?” And he said, “Not that one, -but another.” As the child beheld his brother’s angel in her arms, he -cried, “O sister, I am here! Take me!” And she turned and smiled upon -him, and the star was shining. - -He grew to be a young man, and was busy at his books, when an old -servant came to him, and said, “Thy mother is no more. I bring her -blessing on her darling son!” Again at night he saw the star, and all -the former company. Said his sister’s angel to the leader, “Is my -brother come?” And he said, “Thy mother!” A mighty cry of joy went -forth through all the star, because the mother was reunited to her two -children. And he stretched out his arms, and cried, “O mother, sister, -and brother, I am here! Take me!” And they answered him, “Not yet,” and -the star was shining. - -He grew to be a man, whose hair was turning gray, and he was sitting in -his chair by the fireside, heavy with grief, and with his face bedewed -with tears, when the star opened once again. Said his sister’s angel -to the leader, “Is my brother come?” And he said, “Nay, but his maiden -daughter.” And the man who had been the child saw his daughter, newly -lost to him, a celestial creature among those three, and he said, -“My daughter’s head is on my sister’s bosom, and her arm is round my -mother’s neck, and at her feet there is the baby of old time, and I can -bear the parting from her--God be praised!” And the star was shining. - -Thus the child came to be an old man, and his face was wrinkled, and -his steps were slow, and his back was bent. And one night, as he lay -upon his bed, his children standing around, he cried, as he had cried -so long ago, “I see the star!” They whispered to one another, “He is -dying.” And he said, “I am. My age is falling from me like a garment, -and I move towards the star as a child. And, O my Father, now I thank -Thee that it has so often opened, to receive those dear ones who await -me!” And the star was shining; and it shines upon his grave. - - - - -XXXVII.--HANNAH BINDING SHOES. - -LUCY LARCOM. - - -[Illustration] - - Poor lone Hannah, - Sitting at the window binding shoes. - Faded, wrinkled, - Sitting, stitching, in a mournful muse. - Bright-eyed beauty once was she, - When the bloom was on the tree; - Spring and winter, - Hannah’s at the window binding shoes. - - Not a neighbor - Passing, nod or answer will refuse - To her whisper, - “Is there from the fishers any news?” - Oh, her heart’s adrift with one - On an endless voyage gone! - Night and morning, - Hannah’s at the window binding shoes. - - Fair young Hannah, - Ben, the sunburnt fisher, gayly woos; - Hale and clever, - For a willing heart and hand he sues. - May-day skies are all aglow, - And the waves are laughing so! - For her wedding - Hannah leaves her window and her shoes. - - May is passing; - Mid the apple-boughs a pigeon coos. - Hannah shudders, - For the mild south-wester mischief brews. - Round the rocks of Marblehead, - Outward bound a schooner sped; - Silent, lonesome, - Hannah’s at the window binding shoes. - - ’Tis November; - Now no tear her wasted cheek bedews. - From Newfoundland - Not a sail returning will she lose, - Whispering hoarsely: “Fishermen, - Have you--have you heard of Ben?” - Old with watching, - Hannah’s at the window binding shoes. - - Twenty winters - Bleach and tear the ragged shore she views. - Twenty seasons! - Never one has brought her any news. - Still her dim eyes silently - Chase the white sails o’er the sea: - Hopeless, faithful, - Hannah’s at the window binding shoes. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - gay´ly - wrinkled (_rĭngk´kld_) - mischief (_mĭs´chif_) - hoarsely (_hōrs´ly_) - boughs - voy´age - stitch´ing - No-vem´ber - whispering (_hwĭs´per-ing_) - shŭd´ders - lone´some - Newfoundland - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. In a _mournful muse_.--2. Her heart’s _adrift_.--3. Hale - and clever.--4. Skies _aglow_.--5. No tear her _wasted_ cheek - _bedews_.--6. _Old with_ watching.--7. Bleach the _ragged_ - shore.--8. Silently chase.--9. Twenty _seasons_.--10. - _Hopeless_ Hannah. - - - - -XXXVIII.--JACK IN THE PULPIT. - -JOHN G. WHITTIER. - - -[Illustration] - - Jack in the Pulpit - Preaches to-day, - Squirrel and song-sparrow, - High on their perch, - Hear the sweet lily-bells - Ringing to church. - - Come, hear what his reverence - Rises to say, - In his low, painted pulpit, - This calm Sabbath-day. - Fair is the canopy - Over him seen, - Pencilled by Nature’s hand - Black, brown, and green. - Green is his surplice, - Green are his bands; - In his queer little pulpit - The little priest stands. - - In black and gold velvet, - So gorgeous to see, - Comes with his bass voice - The chorister bee. - Green fingers playing - Unseen on wind-lyres,-- - Low singing bird-voices,-- - These are his choirs. - The violets are deacons; - I know by their sign - That the cups which they carry - Are purple with wine. - And the columbines bravely - As sentinels stand - On the look-out, with all their - Red trumpets in hand. - - Meek-faced anemones - Drooping and sad; - Great yellow violets - Smiling out glad; - Buttercups’ faces - Beaming and bright; - Clovers, with bonnets-- - Some red and some white; - Daisies, their white fingers - Half-clasped in prayer; - Dandelions proud of - The gold of their hair; - Innocents, children - Guileless and frail, - Meek little faces - Upturned and pale; - Wild-wood geraniums, - All in their best, - Languidly leaning - In purple gauze dressed;-- - All are assembled - This sweet Sabbath day - To hear what the priest in his pulpit will say. - - Look! white Indian pipes - On the green mosses lie! - Who has been smoking - Profanely so nigh? - Rebuked by the preacher - The mischief is stopped, - And the sinners, in haste, - Have their little pipes dropped. - Let the wind, with the fragrance - Of fern and black-birch, - Blow the smell of the smoking - Clean out of the church! - - So much for the preacher: - The sermon comes next;-- - Shall we tell how he preached it, - And what was his text? - Alas! like too many - Grown-up folk who play - At worship in churches - Man-builded to-day-- - We heard not the preacher - Expound or discuss; - But we looked at the people - And they looked at us; - We saw all their dresses, - Their colors and shapes, - The trim of their bonnets, - The cut of their capes; - We heard the wind-organ, - The bee and the bird, - But of Jack in the Pulpit we heard not a word! - - - - -XXXIX.--THE BEAVER. - - -There are few animals that can teach us more useful lessons than the -beaver. - -[Illustration] - -They are very timid animals. If we went to places where they are -common, it would be very difficult to find them and see what they do. - -The beaver is between two and three feet long, and one foot high, and -is covered with brown hair. Its eyes are very small and far apart; its -ears also are small and its nose blunt. It has very strong, sharp -teeth, and a long tail shaped somewhat like the blade of an oar. This -tail has no hair or fur on it, but is covered with little scales like -those of a fish. The hind feet of the beaver have a thin skin between -the toes. This shows that the beaver is fitted for swimming. During the -summer these animals live in holes near the banks of rivers. They are -very social animals. They never live alone. They usually go in parties, -and build a little “beaver town.” They have some means of making known -their wants to each other. They know they will be safer in water than -on land, so they try to find a pond where they can build their town. If -they can not do this, they will choose a running stream with some trees -on the banks. - -The first thing they do, is to make a dam, right across the stream. -They have neither saws nor hatchets with which to cut down the trees; -but they use their sharp, strong teeth, and gnaw and gnaw away, until -they bring down tree after tree. These little wood-cutters know very -well how to do this; otherwise the trees might fall and kill them. When -they have gnawed nearly through the trunk, away they run to see if the -tree is beginning to bend. If it is still straight, they set to work -again; but the moment they hear it crack, off they run to keep out of -danger. - -When the tree is down, they gnaw off all the branches in the same way, -and then cut the trunk into short pieces, and roll them down to the -water’s edge. Then they go to work at another tree, and still another, -until they have cut down all they want. These logs of wood, kept in -their places by mud and stones, make a dam, and this dam stops the -water and causes it to rise around their houses and cover the openings -which are at the bottom, and helps to keep them safe from danger. - -Then the houses are built of mud, stones, sticks, and small branches -twined in and out to keep them fast. These houses are several feet high -and are very thick. There are two rooms in them, one at the bottom, -under water, which they use for a store-room, and the other, at the -top, above the water, for a living-room. The floor of this room is -covered with soft moss. - -But these wise beavers know that they must have a store of food for the -winter, as well as a snug little house to live in. They gather logs of -wood and branches, and put them away in their store-room. The bark of -these logs and some water plants supply them with food. When they are -“at home” during the winter months in their “beaver town,” they always -have a sentinel to keep watch, and if any one comes near, he gives the -alarm by striking the water with his broad, flat tail. - -There are no idle beavers. They not only work hard, but with great -skill and care. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Useful lessons.--2. Where they are _common_.--3. The - _blade_ of an oar.--4. _Social_ animals.--5. Usually go in - parties.--6. _Right_ across the stream.--7. If it is still - straight.--8. _Stops_ the water.--9. _Twined_ in and out.--10. - For a living-room.--11. A _store_ of food.--12. He gives the - alarm.--13. _Supply_ them with food.--14. They have a _sentinel - to keep watch_.--15. Work with great skill and care. - - - - -XL.--THE ANGEL’S WHISPER. - -SAMUEL LOVER. - - -A superstition of great beauty prevails in Ireland, that when a child -smiles in its sleep it is ‘talking with angels.’--LOVER. - - A baby was sleeping, - Its mother was weeping, - For her husband was far on the wild raging sea; - And the tempest was swelling - Round the fisherman’s dwelling, - And she cried, “Dermot, darling, oh come back to me!” - - Her beads while she numbered, - The baby still slumbered, - And smiled in her face as she bended her knee: - “Oh, blessed be that warning, - My child, thy sleep adorning, - For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. - - “And while they are keeping - Bright watch o’er thy sleeping, - Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me! - And say thou would’st rather - They’d watch o’er thy father!-- - For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.” - - The dawn of the morning - Saw Dermot returning, - And the wife wept with joy her babe’s father to see; - And closely caressing - Her child, with a blessing, - Said, “I knew that the angels were whispering with thee.” - - - - -XLI.--THE RAPID. - -CHARLES SANGSTER. - - - All peacefully gliding, the waters dividing, - The indolent batteau moved slowly along; - The rowers, light-hearted, from sorrow long parted, - Beguiled the dull moments with laughter and song: - “Hurrah for the Rapid! that merrily, merrily - Gambols and leaps on its tortuous way; - Soon, we will enter it, cheerily, cheerily, - Pleased with its freshness, and wet with its spray.” - - More swiftly careering, the wild Rapid nearing, - They dash down the stream like a terrified steed; - The surges delight them, no terrors affright them, - Their voices keep pace with their quickening speed: - “Hurrah for the Rapid! that merrily, merrily - Shivers its arrows against us in play; - Now we have entered it, cheerily, cheerily, - Our spirits as light as its feathery spray.” - - Fast downward they’re dashing, each fearless eye flashing, - Though danger awaits them on every side; - Yon rock--see it frowning! they strike--they are drowning! - But downward they speed with the merciless tide. - No voice cheers the Rapid, that angrily, angrily - Shivers their bark in its maddening play; - Gaily they entered it--heedlessly, recklessly, - Mingling their lives with its treacherous spray! - - - - -XLII.--A NARROW ESCAPE. - - -In 1843, Livingstone, the celebrated traveller, settled as a missionary -in Mabtosa, a beautiful valley in South Africa. Here he met with an -adventure which nearly terminated his earthly career. - -The natives of Mabtosa had long been troubled by lions, which invaded -their cattle-pens by night, and even attacked the herds during the day. -These poor people, being very ignorant and superstitious, thought that -the inroads of the lions were caused by witchcraft. It was perhaps for -this reason that all their attempts to drive away the animals were -feeble and faint-hearted, and therefore unsuccessful. - -It is well known that a troop of lions will not remain long in any -district where one of their number has been killed. So the next time -the herds of Mabtosa were attacked, Livingstone went out with the -natives to encourage them to destroy one of the marauders, and thus -free themselves from the whole troop. They found the lions on a small -hill covered with wood. The hunters placed themselves in a circle round -the hill, and began to ascend, coming gradually closer to each other as -they approached the summit. - -Livingstone remained, along with a native teacher, on the plain below, -to watch the manœuvres of the party. His companion, seeing one of the -lions sitting on a piece of rock within the circle of hunters, took aim -and fired; but the ball only struck the stones at the animal’s feet. -With a roar of rage the fierce brute bounded away, broke through the -ring, and escaped unhurt, the natives not having the courage to stand -close and spear him as he passed. - -The band again closed in and resumed their march. There were still two -lions in the wood, and it was hoped that fortune would favor a second -attempt to destroy one of them. But suddenly a terrific roar echoed -from the hill, and the timid hunters quaked with fear. First one of -the lions, and then the other, with streaming manes and glaring eyes, -rushed down through the wavering ranks, and bounded away, free to -continue their devastations. - -As the party were returning home, bewailing their want of success, -Livingstone observed one of the lions about thirty yards in front, -sitting on a rock behind a bush. Raising his gun, he took steady aim, -and discharged both barrels into the thicket. “He is shot! He is shot!” -was the joyful cry; and some of the men were about to rush in and -despatch the wounded beast with their spears. But Livingstone, seeing -the lion’s tail erected in anger, warned them to keep back until he -had fired a second time. He was just in the act of reloading, when, -hearing a shout of terror, he looked round and saw the lion preparing -to spring. It was too late to retreat. With a savage growl the frenzied -animal seized him by the shoulder, and shook him as a terrier shakes -a rat. The shock caused a momentary anguish, followed by a sort of -drowsiness, in which he had no sense of pain nor feeling of terror, -though he knew all that was happening. - -[Illustration] - -The lion’s paw was resting on the back of his head, and as he turned -round to relieve himself of the pressure, he saw the creature’s fiery -eyes directed to the native teacher, who, at a distance of ten or -fifteen yards, was making ready to shoot. The gun missed fire in both -barrels; and the lion sprang at his new assailant, and bit him in the -thigh. Another man also, who was standing near, was severely bitten in -the shoulder; but at this moment the bullets took effect, and the huge -beast fell back dead. - -All this occurred in a few seconds: the death-blow had been inflicted -before the animal sprang upon his assailants. Livingstone’s arm was -wounded in eleven places, and the bone crushed into splinters; and the -injuries might have proved fatal but for his tartan jacket, which wiped -the poison from the lion’s teeth before they entered the flesh. - -It was long ere the wounds healed, and all through life the intrepid -missionary bore the marks of this dreadful encounter. Thirty years -afterwards, when his noble and useful career had ended among the swamps -of Central Africa, and his remains were taken to England to be interred -in Westminster Abbey, the crushed and mangled arm was one of the marks -which enabled his sorrowing friends in that country to identify the -body as that of David Livingstone. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - resumed (_re-zūmd´_) - West´ min-ster - in-trep´id - ī-dĕn´tĭ-fy - dĕv-as-tā´tions - marauders (_ma-raw´ders_) - as-sail´ants - ĭg´no-rant - sū-per-stĭ´tious (_-stish´us_) - be-wail´ing - Mab-tō´sa - drow´si-ness - ad-vent´ure - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Settled as a missionary.--2. Terminated his earthly - career.--3. Attacked the herds.--4. Feeble and - faint-hearted.--5. To watch the manœuvres.--6. _A terrific roar - echoed_ from the hill.--7. _Quaked_ with fear.--8. Streaming - manes.--9. Wavering ranks.--10. Bewailing their want of - success.--11. Steady aim.--12. _Discharged_ both barrels.--13. - A shout of terror.--14. Momentary anguish.--15. Dreadful - encounter. - - - - -XLIII.--THE FAIRIES OF CALDON-LOW. _A MIDSUMMER LEGEND._ - -MARY HOWITT. - - -[Illustration] - - “And where have you been, my Mary. - And where have you been from me?” - “I’ve been to the top of the Caldon-Low, - The Midsummer night to see!” - - “And what did you see, my Mary, - All up on the Caldon-Low?” - “I saw the blithe sunshine come down, - And I saw the merry winds blow.” - - “And what did you hear, my Mary, - All up on the Caldon Hill?” - “I heard the drops of the water made, - And the green corn ears to fill.” - - “Oh, tell me all, my Mary-- - All, all that ever you know; - For you must have seen the fairies, - Last night on the Caldon-Low.” - - “Then take me on your knee, mother, - And listen, mother of mine: - A hundred fairies danced last night, - And the harpers they were nine. - - “And merry was the glee of the harp-strings, - And their dancing feet so small; - But, oh, the sound of their talking - Was merrier far than all!” - - “And what were the words, my Mary, - That you did hear them say?” - “I’ll tell you all, my mother-- - But let me have my way! - - “And some they played with the water, - And rolled it down the hill; - ‘And this’ they said, ‘shall speedily turn - The poor old miller’s mill; - - “‘For there has been no water - Ever since the first of May; - And a busy man shall the miller be - By the dawning of the day! - - “‘Oh, the miller, how he will laugh, - When he sees the mill-dam rise! - The jolly old miller, how he will laugh, - Till the tears fill both his eyes!’ - - “And some they seized the little winds, - That sounded over the hill, - And each put a horn into his mouth, - And blew so sharp and shrill:-- - - “‘And there,’ said they, ‘the merry winds go, - Away from every horn; - And those shall clear the mildew dank - From the blind old widow’s corn: - - “‘Oh, the poor, blind old widow-- - Though she has been blind so long, - She’ll be merry enough when the mildew’s gone, - And the corn stands stiff and strong!’ - - “And some they brought the brown lintseed, - And flung it down from the Low-- - ‘And this,’ said they, ‘by the sunrise, - In the weaver’s croft shall grow! - - “‘Oh, the poor, lame weaver, - How he will laugh outright, - When he sees his dwindling flax-field - All full of flowers by night!’ - - “And then upspoke a brownie, - With a long beard on his chin-- - ‘I have spun up all the tow,’ said he, - ‘And I want some more to spin. - - “‘I’ve spun a piece of hempen cloth, - And I want to spin another-- - A little sheet for Mary’s bed, - And an apron for her mother!’ - - “And with that I could not help but laugh, - And I laughed out loud and free; - And then on the top of the Caldon-Low - There was no one left but me. - - “And all, on the top of the Caldon-Low, - The mists were cold and gray, - And nothing I saw but the mossy stones - That round about me lay. - - “But, as I came down from the hill-top, - I heard, afar below, - How busy the jolly miller was, - And how merry the wheel did go! - - “And I peeped into the widow’s field; - And sure enough were seen - The yellow ears of the mildewed corn - All standing stiff and green. - - “And down by the weaver’s croft I stole, - To see if the flax were high; - But I saw the weaver at his gate - With the good news in his eye! - - “Now, this is all I heard, mother, - And all that I did see; - So, prithee, make my bed, mother, - For I’m tired as I can be!” - - - - -XLIV.--VOLCANOES. - - -[Illustration] - -In various parts of the earth, there are mountains that send out from -their highest peaks, smoke, ashes, and fire. Mountains of this class -are called volcanoes, and they present a striking contrast to other -mountains, on account of their conical form and the character of the -rocks of which they are composed. All volcanoes have at their summits -what are called craters. These are large, hollow, circular openings, -from which the smoke and fire escape. - -Nearly all volcanoes emit smoke constantly. This smoke proceeds from -fires that are burning far down in the depths of the earth. Sometimes -these fires burst forth from the crater of the volcano with tremendous -force. The smoke becomes thick and black, and lurid flames shoot up to -a height of hundreds of feet, making a scene of amazing grandeur. With -the flames there are thrown out stones, ashes, and streams of melted -rock called lava. This lava flows down the sides of the mountain, and, -being red hot, destroys everything with which it comes in contact. At -such times, a volcano is said to be in eruption. Such is the force of -some of these eruptions, that large rocks have been hurled to great -distances from the crater, and towns and cities have been buried under -a vast covering of ashes and lava. - -The quantity of lava and ashes which sometimes escapes from volcanoes -during an eruption, is almost beyond comprehension. In 1772, a volcano -in the island of Java, threw out ashes and cinders that covered the -ground fifty feet deep, for a distance of seven miles all around the -mountain. This eruption destroyed nearly forty towns and villages. In -1783, a volcano in Iceland sent out two streams of lava; one forty -miles long and seven miles wide, and the other fifty miles long and -fifteen miles wide. These streams were from one hundred to six hundred -feet deep. - -Near the city of Naples, in Italy, is situated the volcano Mt. -Vesuvius. This fiery monster has probably caused more destruction than -any other volcano known. In the year 79, A.D., it suddenly burst forth -in a violent eruption, that resulted in one of the most appalling -disasters that ever happened. Such immense quantities of ashes, -stones, and lava were poured forth from its crater, that within twenty -hours, two large cities were completely destroyed. These cities were -Herculaneum and Pompeii. - -At this eruption of Vesuvius, the stream of lava flowed directly -through and over the city of Herculaneum into the sea. The quantity was -so great that, as it cooled and became hardened, it gradually filled up -all the streets and ran over the tops of the houses. While the lava was -thus turning the city into a mass of solid stone, the inhabitants were -fleeing from it along the shore toward Naples, and in boats on the sea. -At the same time, too, the wind carried the ashes and cinders in such -a direction as to deluge the city of Pompeii. Slowly and steadily the -immense volume of ashes and small stones, blocked up the streets and -settled on the roofs of the houses. The light of the flames that burst -out from the awful crater, aided the people in their escape; but many -who for some reason could not get away, perished. - -Pompeii was so completely covered that nothing could be seen of it. -Thus it remained, buried under the ground, until the year 1748, when -it was discovered by accident. Since that time much of the city has -been uncovered, and now one can walk along the streets, look into the -houses, and form some idea how the people lived there eighteen hundred -years ago. - - - - -XLV.--A SMALL CATECHISM. - -THOMAS D’ARCY MCGEE. - - - Why are children’s eyes so bright? - Tell me why! - ’Tis because the infinite - Which they’ve left, is still in sight, - And they know no earthly blight,-- - Therefore ’tis their eyes are bright. - - Why do children laugh so gay? - Tell me why! - ’Tis because their hearts have play - In their bosoms, every day, - Free from sin and sorrow’s sway,-- - Therefore ’tis they laugh so gay. - - Why do children speak so free? - Tell me why! - ’Tis because from fallacy, - Cant, and seeming, they are free; - Hearts, not lips, their organs be,-- - Therefore ’tis they speak so free. - - Why do children love so true? - Tell me why! - ’Tis because they cleave unto - A familiar, favorite few, - Without art or self in view,-- - Therefore children love so true. - - - - -XLVI.--CURIOUS BIRDS’ NESTS. - - -Among the most curious nests are those made by the birds called -weavers. These feathered workmen serve no apprenticeship: their trade -comes to them by nature; and how well they work at it! But then you -must admit that Nature is a skilful teacher and birds are apt scholars. - -The Baltimore oriole is a weaver, and it makes its nest out of bark, -fine grass, moss, and wool, strengthening it, when circumstances -permit, with pieces of string or horsehair. This nest, pouch-shaped, -and open at the top, is fastened to the branch of a tree, and is -sometimes interwoven with the twigs of a waving bough. The threads of -grass and long fibres of moss, are woven together, in and out, as if by -machinery; and it seems hard to believe that the little birds can do -such work without help. - -The long, slender boughs of the willow are the favorite resort of the -oriole; and here, in the midst of a storm, the bird may sit in its -swinging nest, fearing no danger. What is there to dread? The trees -rock in the wind, but the oriole’s habitation is strong and well -secured. Unless the branch from which the nest hangs be torn from the -tree, the nest will endure the tempest and prove a safe shelter for the -blithe little bird. - -Many weaver-birds in Asia and Africa hang their nests from the ends of -twigs and branches overhanging the water. This is to keep away monkeys -and snakes, which abound in hot countries and are the greatest enemies -birds have. The wise little weaver knows that the cunning monkey will -not trust his precious life to a frail branch that may break, and drop -him into the water; yet the same frail branch is strong enough for the -bird and its nest. In this case, the monkey is obliged to admit that -the bird’s wisdom is more than a match for his. - -[Illustration] - -A very curious custom exists among a class of birds found in Africa, -called “the social weavers.” They begin their work in companies, and -build immense canopies, like umbrellas, in the tops of trees. These -grassy structures are so closely woven that the rain cannot penetrate -them. Under this shelter the birds build their nests, but no longer -in company; the nest for each pair must be made by the pair without -assistance from their neighbors. - -The tailor-bird of India makes a still more curious nest than that -of the weavers: it actually sews, using its long, slender bill as a -needle. Birds that fly, birds that run, birds that swim, and birds that -sing are by no means rare; but birds that sew seem like the wonderful -birds in the fairy-tales. - -Yet they really exist, and make their odd nests with great care and -skill. They pick out a leaf large enough for their nest, and pierce -rows of holes along the edges with their sharp bill; then, with the -fibres of a plant or long threads of grass, they sew the leaf up into -a bag. Sometimes it is necessary to sew two leaves together, that the -space within may be large enough. - -This kind of sewing resembles shoemakers’ or saddlers’ work; but, the -leaf being like fine cloth and not like leather, perhaps the name -“tailor-bird” is the most appropriate for the little worker. The -bag is lined with soft, downy material, and in this the tiny eggs -are laid--tiny indeed, for the tailor-bird is no larger than the -humming-bird. The weight of the little creature does not even draw down -the nest, and the leaf in which the eggs or young birds are hidden -looks like the other leaves on the trees; so that there is nothing to -attract the attention of the forest robbers. - -Another bird, called the Indian sparrow, makes her nest of grass, woven -like cloth and shaped like a bottle. The neck of the bottle hangs -downward, and the bird enters from below. This structure, swinging -from a high tree, over a river, is safe from the visits of mischievous -animals. - -If all the stories about this Indian sparrow are true, the inside -of its nest is strangely adorned. Fire-flies are brought in by the -bird and stuck to the walls with clay; whether they are placed there -to light up the little home, or to dazzle the bats that infest the -neighborhood, no one seems to know. Perhaps the truth is that the -fire-flies are in the nest in imagination only. However that may be, -the Indian sparrow is a clever workman. - -Can you wonder that birds and their nests have always been a source of -delight to the thoughtful enquirer? - - “Mark it well--within, without. - No tool had he that wrought, no knife to cut, - No nail to fix, no bodkin to insert, - No glue to join: his little beak was all. - And yet how neatly finished! What nice hand, - With every implement and means of art, - And twenty years’ apprenticeship to boot. - Could make me such another?” - - -_Word Exercise._ - - o´ri-ōle - căn´o-pies - fā´vor-ĭte - as-sĭst´ance - monkey (_mŭng´ke_) - en-quīr´er - apprentice (_ap-prĕn´tis_) - mischievous (_mĭs´che-vŭs_) - machinery (_ma-shēn´er-e_) - Baltimore (_bawl´ti-more_) - nĕç´es-sa-ry - ap-prō´pri-āte - um-brĕl´las - im´ple-mĕnt - cir´cum-stance - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Apt scholars.--2. Endure the tempest.--3. Obliged to - admit.--4. A curious custom exists.--5. Downy material.--6. - Attract the attention.--7. Strangely adorned.--8. Infest the - neighborhood.--9. Clever workman.--10. Source of delight.--11. - Thoughtful enquirer.--12. Mark it well.--13. Neatly - finished.--14. With apprenticeship to boot. - - - - -XLVII.--LORD ULLIN’S DAUGHTER. - -CAMPBELL. - - -[Illustration] - - A chieftain, to the Highlands bound, - Cries, “Boatman, do not tarry! - And I’ll give thee a silver pound, - To row us o’er the ferry.” - - “Now, who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, - This dark and stormy water?” - “Oh! I’m the chief of Ulva’s Isle, - And this Lord Ullin’s daughter. - - “And fast before her father’s men - Three days we’ve fled together, - For should he find us in the glen, - My blood would stain the heather. - - “His horsemen hard behind us ride; - Should they our steps discover, - Then who would cheer my bonny bride, - When they have slain her lover?” - - Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, - “I’ll go, my chief--I’m ready: - It is not for your silver bright, - But for your winsome lady: - - “And, by my word! the bonny bird - In danger shall not tarry; - So, though the waves are raging white, - I’ll row you o’er the ferry.” - - By this the storm grew loud apace, - The water-wraith was shrieking; - And, in the scowl of heaven, each face - Grew dark as they were speaking. - - But still, as wilder blew the wind, - And as the night grew drearer, - Adown the glen rode armèd men, - Their trampling sounded nearer. - - “O haste thee, haste!” the lady cries, - “Though tempests round us gather, - I’ll meet the raging of the skies, - But not an angry father.” - - The boat has left a stormy land, - A stormy sea before her-- - When, oh! too strong for human hand, - The tempest gathered o’er her. - - And still they rowed amidst the roar - Of waters fast prevailing; - Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore-- - His wrath was changed to wailing. - - For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, - His child he did discover: - One lovely arm she stretched for aid, - And one was round her lover. - - “Come back! come back!” he cried, in grief, - “Across this stormy water; - And I’ll forgive your Highland chief, - My daughter!--Oh! my daughter!” - - ’Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore, - Return or aid preventing: - The waters wild went o’er his child-- - And he was left lamenting. - - - - -XLVIII.--TO AN EARLY PRIMROSE. - -HENRY KIRKE WHITE. - - - Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire! - Whose modest form, so delicately fine, - Was nursed in whirling storms, - And cradled in the winds: - - Thee, when young Spring first questioned Winter’s sway, - And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, - Thee on this bank he threw - To mark his victory. - - In this low vale, the promise of the year, - Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, - Unnoticed and alone, - Thy tender elegance. - - So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms - Of chill adversity; in some lone walk - Of life she rears her head, - Obscure and unobserved; - - While every bleaching breeze that on her blows - Chastens her spotless purity of breast, - And hardens her to bear - Serene the ills of life. - - - - -XLIX.--THE WHISTLE. - -BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. - - -When I was a child, seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled -my pockets with coppers. I went directly toward a shop where they sold -toys for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a whistle that -I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him -all my money for it. - -I then returned home, and went whistling all over the house, much -pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, -and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me -I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. - -This put me in mind of what good things I might have bought with the -rest of the money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly that I -cried with vexation. - -This, however, was afterward of use to me, the impression continuing -on my mind; so that often, when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary -thing, I said to myself, “Don’t give too much for the whistle;” and so -I saved my money. - -As I grew up, went into the world, and observed the actions of men, -I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for their -whistles. - -When I saw any one too ambitious of the favor of the great, wasting -his time in attendance on public dinners, sacrificing his repose, his -liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to retain it, I said to -myself, “This man gives too much for his whistle.” - -When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in -politics, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect, -“He pays, indeed,” said I, “too much for his whistle.” - -If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, -all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his -fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of -accumulating wealth, “Poor man,” said I, “you do indeed pay too much -for your whistle.” - -When I met a man of pleasure, sacrificing the improvement of his mind, -or of his fortune, to mere bodily comfort, “Mistaken man,” said I, “you -are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure: you give too much -for your whistle.” - -If I saw one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine horses, all -above his fortune, for which he contracted debts, and ended his career -in prison, “Alas!” said I, “he has paid dear, very dear, for his -whistle.” - -In short, I believed that a great part of the miseries of mankind were -brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of -things, and by their giving too much for their whistles. - - - - -L.--BUGLE SONG. - -TENNYSON. - - - 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, clearer, 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 on yon rich sky; - They faint on hill, or field, or river: - Our echoes roll from soul to soul, - And grow forever and forever. - Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying, - And answer, echoes, answer,--dying, dying, dying. - - - - -LI.--THE INCHCAPE ROCK. - -ROBERT SOUTHEY. - - -[Illustration] - - No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, - The ship was as still as she could be; - Her sails from heaven received no motion, - Her keel was steady in the ocean. - - Without either sign or sound of their shock, - The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; - So little they rose, so little they fell, - They did not move the Inchcape Bell. - - The pious Abbot of Aberbrothock - Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; - On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, - And over the waves its warning rung. - - When the Rock was hid by the surge’s swell, - The mariners heard the warning bell; - And then they knew the perilous Rock, - And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothock. - - The sun in heaven was shining gay; - All things were joyful on that day; - The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled round, - And there was joyance in their sound. - - The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen, - A darker speck on the ocean green; - Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck, - And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. - - He felt the cheering power of spring; - It made him whistle, it made him sing: - His heart was mirthful to excess, - But the Rover’s mirth was wickedness. - - His eye was on the Inchcape float; - Quoth he: “My men, put out the boat, - And row me to the Inchcape Rock, - And I’ll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothock.” - - The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, - And to the Inchcape Rock they go; - Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, - And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float. - - Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound, - The bubbles rose and burst around; - Quoth Sir Ralph: “The next who comes to the Rock - Won’t bless the Abbot of Aberbrothock.” - - Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away; - He scoured the seas for many a day; - And now, grown rich with plundered store, - He steers his course for Scotland’s shore. - - So thick a haze o’erspreads the sky - They cannot see the sun on high; - The wind hath blown a gale all day, - At evening it hath died away. - - On the deck the Rover takes his stand; - So dark it is, they see no land. - Quoth Sir Ralph, “It will be lighter soon, - For there is the dawn of the rising moon.” - - “Canst hear,” said one, “the breakers roar? - For methinks we should be near the shore.” - “Now where we are I cannot tell, - But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell.” - - They hear no sound; the swell is strong; - Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along, - Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock; - Cried they: “It is the Inchcape Rock!” - - Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair, - He cursed himself in his despair: - The waves rush in on every side; - The ship is sinking beneath the tide. - - But, even in his dying fear, - One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,-- - A sound as if, with the Inchcape Bell, - The fiends below were ringing his knell. - - - - -LII.--THE FLAX. - -HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. - - -The flax was in full bloom; it had pretty little blue flowers as -delicate as the wings of a moth, or even more so. The sun shone, and -the showers watered it; and this was just as good for the flax as it is -for little children to be washed and then kissed by their mother. They -look much prettier for it, and so did the flax. - -“People say that I look exceedingly well,” said the flax, “and that I -am so fine and long, that I shall make a beautiful piece of linen. How -fortunate I am! it makes me so happy; it is such a pleasant thing to -know that something can be made of me. How the sunshine cheers me, and -how sweet and refreshing is the rain! my happiness overpowers me; no -one in the world can feel happier than I do.” - -One day some people came, who took hold of the flax and pulled it up -by the roots; this was painful. Then it was laid in water as if they -intended to drown it; and, after that, placed near a fire as if it were -to be roasted; all this was very shocking. - -“We cannot expect to be happy always,” said the flax; “by experiencing -evil as well as good we become wise.” And certainly there was plenty of -evil in store for the flax. It was steeped, and roasted, and broken, -and combed; indeed, it scarcely knew what was done to it. - -At last it was put on the spinning-wheel. “Whirr, whirr,” went the -wheel so quickly that the flax could not collect its thoughts. - -“Well, I have been very happy,” he thought in the midst of his pain, -“and must be contented with the past;” and contented he remained till -he was put on the loom, and became a beautiful piece of white linen. -All the flax, even to the last stalk, was used in making this one -piece. “How wonderful it is that, after all I have suffered, I am made -something of at last; I am the luckiest person in the world--so strong -and fine; and how white, and what a length! This is something different -from being a mere plant and bearing flowers. Then I had no attention, -nor any water unless it rained. Now I am watched and taken care of. -Every morning the maid turns me over, and I have a shower-bath from the -watering-pot every evening. Yes, and the clergyman’s wife noticed me, -and said I was the best piece of linen in the whole parish. I cannot be -happier than I am now.” - -After some time, the linen was taken into the house, placed under the -scissors, and cut and torn into pieces, and then pricked with needles. -This certainly was not pleasant; but at last it was made into garments. - -“See, now, then,” said the flax, “I have become something of -importance. This was my destiny; it is quite a blessing. Now I shall be -of some use in the world, as every one ought to be; it is the only way -to be happy.” - -Years passed away; and at last the linen was so worn it could scarcely -hold together. - -“It must end very soon,” said the pieces to each other. “We would -gladly have held together a little longer, but it is useless to expect -impossibilities.” - -And at length they fell into rags and tatters, and thought it was all -over with them, for they were torn to shreds, and steeped in water, and -made into a pulp, and dried, and they knew not what besides, till all -at once they found themselves beautiful white paper. - -“Well, now, this is a surprise; a glorious surprise too,” said the -paper. “I am now finer than ever, and I shall be written upon, and who -can tell what fine things I may have written upon me? This is wonderful -luck!” - -And sure enough, the most beautiful stories and poetry were written -upon it, and only once was there a blot, which was very fortunate. - -Then people heard the stories and poetry read, and it made them wiser -and better; for all that was written had a good and sensible meaning, -and a great blessing was contained in the words on the paper. - -“I never imagined anything like this,” said the paper, “when I was -only a little blue flower, growing in the fields. How could I fancy -that I should ever be the means of bringing knowledge and joy to men? I -cannot understand it myself, and yet it is really so. Heaven knows that -I have done nothing myself, but what I was obliged to do with my weak -powers for my own preservation; and yet I have been promoted from one -joy and honor to another. Each time I think that the song is ended; and -then something higher and better begins for me. I suppose now I shall -be sent on my travels about the world, so that people may read me. It -cannot be otherwise; indeed it is more than probable; for I have more -splendid thoughts written upon me than I had pretty flowers in olden -times. I am happier than ever.” - -But the paper did not go on its travels. It was sent to the printer, -and all the words written upon it were set up in type, to make a book, -or rather hundreds of books; for so many more persons could derive -pleasure and profit from a printed book than from the written paper; -and if the paper had been sent about the world, it would have been worn -out before it had got half through its journey. - -“This is certainly the wisest plan,” said the written paper; “I really -did not think of that. I shall remain at home and be held in honor, -like some old grandfather, as I really am to all these new books. They -will do some good. I could not have wandered about as they do. Yet he -who wrote all this has looked at me as every word flowed from his pen -upon my surface. I am the most honored of all.” - -Then the paper was tied in a bundle with other papers, and thrown into -a tub that stood in the washhouse. - -“After work, it is well to rest,” said the paper, “and a very good -opportunity this is to collect one’s thoughts. Now I am able, for the -first time, to think of my real condition; and to know one’s self is -true progress. What will be done with me now I wonder? No doubt I shall -still go forward.” - -Now it happened one day that all the paper in the tub was taken out, -and laid on the hearth to be burnt. People said it could not be sold -at the shop, to wrap up butter and sugar, because it had been written -upon. The children in the house stood round the stove; for they -wanted to see the paper burn, because it flamed up so prettily, and -afterwards, among the ashes, so many red sparks could be seen running -one after the other, here and there, as quick as the wind. They called -it “seeing the children come out of school,” and the last spark was -the schoolmaster. They often thought the last spark had come; and one -would cry, “There goes the schoolmaster;” but the next moment another -spark would appear, shining so beautifully. How they would like to know -where the sparks all went to! Perhaps we shall find out some day, but -we don’t know now. - -The whole bundle of paper had been placed on the fire, and was soon -alight. “Ugh!” cried the paper, as it burst into a bright flame; “ugh!” -It was certainly not very pleasant to be burning; but when the whole -was wrapped in flames, the flames mounted up into the air, higher -than the flax had ever been able to raise its little blue flower; and -they glistened as the white linen never could have glistened. All the -written letters became quite red in a moment, and all the words and -thoughts turned into fire. - -“Now I am mounting straight up to the sun,” said a voice in the flames; -and it was as if a thousand voices echoed the words; and the flames -darted up through the chimney, and went out at the top. Then a number -of tiny beings, as many in number as the flowers on the flax had been, -and invisible to mortal eyes, floated above them. They were even -lighter and more delicate than the flowers from which they were born; -and as the flames were extinguished, and nothing remained of the paper -but black ashes, these little things danced upon it; and whenever they -touched it, bright red sparks appeared. - - - - -LIII.--THE FRENCH AT RATISBON. - -ROBERT BROWNING. - - -[Illustration] - - You know, we French stormed Ratisbon; - A mile or so away, - On a little mound, Napoleon - Stood on our storming day; - With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, - Legs wide, arms locked behind, - As if to balance the prone brow - Oppressive with its mind. - - Just as perhaps he mused, “My plans - That soar, to earth may fall, - Let once my army-leader, Lannes, - Waver at yonder wall,”-- - Out ’twixt the battery-smokes there flew - A rider, bound on bound - Full galloping; nor bridle drew - Until he reached the mound. - - Then off there flung in smiling joy, - And held himself erect - By just his horse’s mane, a boy: - You 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. - - “Well,” cried he, “Emperor, by God’s grace - We’ve got you Ratisbon! - The Marshal’s in the market-place, - And you’ll be there anon - To see your flag-bird flap his vans - Where I, to heart’s desire, - Perched him!” The chief’s eye flashed; his plans - Soared up again like fire. - - The chief’s eye flashed; but presently - Softened itself, as sheathes - A film the mother-eagle’s eye - When her bruised eaglet breathes: - “You’re wounded!” “Nay,” his soldier’s pride - Touched to the quick, he said: - “I’m killed, Sire!” And, his chief beside, - Smiling, the boy fell dead. - - - - -LIV.--EGYPT AND ITS RUINS. - - -[Illustration] - -Egypt embraces that part of Africa occupied by the valley of the River -Nile. For many centuries, it was a thickly populated country, and at -one time possessed great influence and wealth, and had reached an -advanced state of civilization. - -The history of Egypt extends through a period of about six thousand -years. During this time great cities were built, which flourished -for hundreds of years. Owing to wars and changes of government, many -of these cities were destroyed, and nothing of them now remains but -massive and extensive ruins. Pyramids were built, obelisks erected, -canals projected, and many other vast enterprises were carried out. -Remains of these are to be seen to-day, some in ruins, some fairly -preserved, and, altogether, they give the present generation an idea of -the wealth and power of the different dynasties under which they were -built. - -Not far from Cairo, which is now the principal city of Egypt, stand -the famous pyramids. These are of such immense proportions, that from -a distance their tops seem to reach the clouds. They are constructed -of great blocks of stone. Some of these are of great size, and how the -builders put them into their places, is a question we cannot answer. - -It is supposed that the construction of the largest pyramid required -the labor of thousands of men, for more than twenty years. It is four -hundred and sixty-one feet high, seven hundred and forty-six feet long -at the base, and covers more than twelve acres of ground. - -Sixty-seven of these pyramids in all have been discovered and explored. -They are the tombs in which the kings of ancient Egypt and their -families were buried. To contain their coffins, which were made of -stone, many chambers were constructed in the interior of the pyramids. -It has been calculated that one of the principal pyramids could -contain three thousand seven hundred rooms of large size. - -The bodies of those who were buried in the pyramids were preserved -from decay by a secret process, which we call embalming, and which -was known only to the priests. After the bodies were embalmed, they -were wrapped in bands of fine linen, and on the inside of these was -spread a peculiar kind of gum. Sometimes as many as a thousand yards -of these bands were wrapped around a single body. After the bandaged -body was thus prepared, a soft substance was placed around it. When -this covering hardened, it kept the body in a state of complete -preservation. These coverings are now called mummy-cases, and the -bodies they enclose are called mummies. The bodies were finally placed -in huge stone coffins, many of which were covered with curious carvings. - -Some mummies have been found, that are said to be over three thousand -years old. But, notwithstanding this great age, when the wrappings are -removed from them, many of the bodies have been so well preserved, -that the features present the appearance which they had in life. Large -numbers of mummies have been carried off to other countries and placed -on exhibition in museums. - -The ancient Egyptians erected many obelisks in various parts of their -country. These were monuments made from single pieces of hard stone, -and in some cases they reached a height of more than a hundred feet. -They were placed before gateways leading to the principal temples and -palaces, and were covered with curious carvings, which represented the -language of the people at that time. Their written language was not -composed of letters and words like our own; but they used pictures of -animals, including birds, and also pictures of human figures, and other -devices of a similar nature, to express their thoughts and ideas. These -pictures are now called hieroglyphics. - -Until the year 1799, scholars of modern nations were unable to read -this strange language. In that year, however, a stone tablet was -discovered by a French engineer, containing an inscription written in -three different characters:--namely: first, in the hieroglyphics spoken -of above; second, in a running hand also used by the Egyptians; and -third, in the well known letters of the Greek alphabet. - -By comparing the words of these inscriptions with many others, the -proper method of interpreting this peculiar language was ascertained. -It was then learned that the inscriptions on these obelisks were the -records of memorable events, and of the heroic deeds of ancient kings -and heroes. - -Many of the obelisks have been taken from their positions in Egypt and -transported with great labor to other countries. Nearly two thousand -years ago, the Roman Emperors began to carry them to Rome, where they -were set up in the public squares. Altogether, nearly fifty of these -remarkable monuments were taken away and set up in that city. They were -then, and are still, regarded as evidences of the wonderful ingenuity -and skill of the ancients who first made them. - -In late years, obelisks have been taken to Paris and London, and more -recently one has been brought to America, and set up in Central Park -in New York City. This one belongs to the largest class, being nearly -seventy feet high and about eight feet square at the base. - -In their large cities, the Egyptians built massive temples which were -dedicated to religious ceremonies. Some of them, although now in ruins, -are considered to be among the most remarkable productions of the -ancients. Tourists who nowadays sail up the River Nile and visit the -site of the city of Thebes, the ancient capital of Egypt, are struck -with amazement at the vast ruins surrounding them. - -On the eastern side of the Nile lies what is left of the temple of -Karnak. Imagine a long line of courts, gateways, and halls; with here -and there an obelisk rising above the ruins, and shutting off the view -of the forest of columns! The temple is approached on every side by -avenues and gateways of colossal grandeur. It originally covered an -area of two hundred and seventy acres, enclosed within a wall of brick, -parts of which are still visible, while the rest lie crumbled and -broken. - -It is difficult to realize the grand appearance of the thirty rows of -stone columns standing within the wall. Some of those that are still -perfect, are capped with enormous monolith capitals, and it is said -that on one of them a hundred men could stand without crowding. - -The hall itself is four hundred and twenty-two feet long by one hundred -and sixty-five feet broad. The stones of the ceiling are supported by -one hundred and thirty-four columns. The largest measures ten feet in -diameter, and more than seventy-two feet in height. They are covered -with carvings and paintings whose colors are still bright, even after a -lapse of forty centuries. - -Gazing on what he sees around him, the traveller becomes lost in the -effort to form some idea of the grandeur and vastness of the original. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - Cairo (_kī´ro_) - ob´e-lisk - căp´i-tals - cen´tu-ries - co-lŏs´sal - re-lĭg´ious (_re-lĭj´us_) - pro-pōr´tions - E´gypt - mŏn´o-lĭth - cĕr´e-mo-nies - he-rō´ic - ĕn-gi-neer (_ĕn-ji-neer´_) - dy´nas-ties (or _dyn´as-ties_) - mĕm´o-ra-ble - ăv´e-nūes - prĕs-er-vā´tion (_z_) - pyr´a-mĭd - ex-plōred´ - dĕd´i-cāt-ed - hī-e-ro-glyph´ics - - - - -LV.--TO MY MOTHER. - -HENRY KIRKE WHITE. - - - And canst thou, mother, for a moment think - That we, thy children, when old age shall shed - Its blanching honors on thy weary head, - Could from our best of duties ever shrink? - Sooner the sun from his bright sphere shall sink, - Than we ungrateful leave thee in that day - To pine in solitude thy life away; - Or shun thee tottering on the grave’s cold brink. - Banish the thought!--where’er our steps may roam, - O’er smiling plains, or wastes without a tree, - Still will fond memory point our hearts to thee, - And paint the pleasures of thy peaceful home; - While duty bids us all thy griefs assuage, - And smooth the pillow of thy sinking age. - - - - -LVI.--ZLOBANE. - -MRS. GUSTAFSON. - - -Zlobane is the name of the mountain which was taken by storm from the -Zulus by the British forces on the morning of the 28th of March, 1879. -On the top of this mountain the victorious English troops, who had -unsaddled their horses and cast themselves down to rest, were surprised -and surrounded by the Zulus. Of the British corps only one captain and -six men escaped. The young hero of the ballad was the son of Colonel -Weatherly. - - As swayeth in the summer wind - The close and stalwart grain, - So moved the serried Zulu shields - That day on wild Zlobane; - - The white shield of the husband, - Who hath twice need of life, - The black shield of the young chief, - Who hath not yet a wife. - - Unrecking harm, the British lay, - Secure as if they slept, - While close on front and either flank - The live, black crescent crept. - - Then burst their wild and frightful cry - Upon the British ears, - With whirr of bullets, glare of shields, - And flash of Zulu spears. - - Uprose the British; in the shock - Reeled but an instant; then, - Shoulder to shoulder, faced the foe, - And met their doom like men. - - But one was there whose heart was torn, - In a more awful strife; - He had the soldier’s steady nerve, - And calm disdain of life; - - Yet now, half turning from the fray, - Knee smiting against knee, - He scanned the hills, if yet were left - An open way to flee. - - Not for himself. His little son, - Scarce thirteen summers born, - With hair that shone upon his brows - Like tassels of the corn, - - And lips yet curled in that sweet pout - Shaped by the mother’s breast, - Stood by his side, and silently - To his brave father pressed. - - The horse stood nigh; the father kissed, - And tossed the boy astride. - “Farewell!” he cried, “and for thy life, - That way, my darling, ride!” - - Scarce touched the saddle ere the boy - Leaped lightly to the ground, - And smote the horse upon its flank, - That with a quivering bound - - It sprang and galloped for the hills, - With one sonorous neigh; - The fire flashed where its spurning feet - Clanged o’er the stony way. - - “Father, I’ll die with you!” The sire - As this he saw and heard, - Turned, and stood breathless in the joy - And pang that knows no word. - - Once, each, as do long knitted friends, - Upon the other smiled, - And then--he had but time to give - A weapon to the child - - Ere, leaping o’er the British dead, - The supple Zulus drew - The cruel assegais, and first - The younger hero slew. - - Still grew the father’s heart, his eye - Bright with unflickering flame: - Five Zulus bit the dust in death - By his unblenching aim. - - Then, covered with uncounted wounds, - He sank beside his child, - And they who found them say, in death - Each on the other smiled. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. _Stalwart_ grain.--2. _Serried_ shields.--3. Unrecking - harm.--4. The black crescent crept.--5. _Whirr_ of bullets.--6. - Reeled but an instant.--7. Met their _doom like men_.--8. Awful - strife.--9. _Calm disdain_ of life.--10. Shone like tassels - of the corn.--11. Sweet pout.--12. Quivering bound.--13. - _Spurning_ feet.--14. Unflickering flame.--15. _Unblenching_ - aim. - - - - -LVII.--THE RUBY-THROATED HUMMING-BIRD. - -AUDUBON. - - -The most common, as well as the most beautiful, species of -humming-birds, is the ruby-throat, a name given to it on account of the -delicate metallic feathers, which glow with ruby lustre on its throat, -gleaming in the sunshine like gems of living fire. From the tip of the -bill to that of the tail, it measures about three and a half inches. -The upper part of the neck, the back, and the wing-coverts, are of a -resplendent and varied green and gold. The breast and lower parts are -white, the wings purplish brown, and the tail partly of the same color, -with the two middle tail-feathers of vivid green. - -In the warm climate of the Southern States, the beautiful little -ruby-throat is found throughout the winter; and as the summer draws -on, the heat in the Northern States and Canada suiting its delicate -constitution, it migrates in large numbers, appearing in Canada towards -the end of June. The long flights of these tiny creatures are performed -at night, it is supposed, as they are found feeding leisurely at all -times of the day. When passing through the air they move at a rapid -rate, in long undulations, now rising for some distance at an angle of -about forty degrees, then falling in a curve. - -Small as they are, from their rapid flight and meteor-like movements, -they do not fear the largest birds of prey; for even should the lordly -eagle venture into their domains, the tiny creature will attack him -without fear; and one has been seen perched on the head of an eagle, -at which it was pecking away furiously, scattering the feathers of -the huge bird, who flew screaming through the air with alarm, to rid -himself of his tiny assailant. - -Brave and high-spirited as is the little bird, it is easily tamed; and -Mr. Webber, the naturalist, succeeded in securing several specimens. -The first he caught did not flutter, or make the least attempt to -escape, but remained quietly in his hand; and he saw, when he opened -it, the minute creature lying on his palm, perfectly motionless, -feigning most skilfully to be dead. As he watched it with breathless -curiosity, he saw it slowly open its bright little eyes to see whether -the way was clear, and then close them slowly as it caught his glance -upon it. When a mixture of sugar, water, and honey, was brought, and a -drop placed on its bill, it came very suddenly to life, and in a moment -was on its legs, drinking with eager gusto of the refreshing draught -from a silver teaspoon. - -The nest of the ruby-throat is of a most delicate nature, the external -parts being formed of bits of a little grey lichen, found on the -branches of trees, glued together by the saliva of the bird. Bits of -lichen are also neatly arranged round the whole of the nest, and to -some distance from the spot where the nest is attached to the tree. -The interior is formed of a cottony substance, and is lined with silky -fibres obtained from various plants. - -The difficulty of finding the little nests of the humming-birds is -increased by a curious habit possessed by some of the species. When -they leave or approach their home, they do so as if conscious that -by the bright gleam of their plumage they may give an indication of -the place of their nest. Rising perpendicularly until they are out of -sight, and then flying to the point under which their nest is placed, -they drop down upon it as perpendicularly as they ascended. - -The eggs are only two in number, and although somewhat larger than -might be imagined from the size of the bird, are very small indeed. -They are of a delicate, slightly pink, semi-transparent, white color, -and have been well compared to pearls. - -Could you cast a momentary glance on the nest of a humming-bird, and -see, as I have seen, the newly hatched pair of young, not much larger -than humble-bees, naked, blind, and so feeble as scarcely to be able to -raise their little bills to receive food from their parents, and could -you see those parents full of anxiety and fear, passing and repassing -within a few inches of your face, alighting on a twig not more than -a yard from you, and waiting the result of your unwelcome visit in a -state of despair--you could not fail to be interested in such a display -of parental affection. Then how pleasing it is, on leaving the spot, to -see the returning joy of the parents, when, after examining the nest, -they find their nurslings untouched! - - -_Word Exercise._ - - meteor (_mē´te-ur_) - draught (_draft_) - feigning (_fān´ing_) - lichen (_lī´ken_, or _lĭch´en_) - coverts (_kŭv´erts_) - mī´grates - specimen (_spĕs´e-mĕn_) - in´ter-est-ed - as-sail´ant - do-mains´ - un-du-lā´tion - dĕl´i-cate - re-splĕn´dent - - - - -LVIII.--TRUST IN GOD AND DO THE RIGHT. - -NORMAN MACLEOD. - - - Courage, brother! do not stumble; - Though thy path be dark as night, - There’s a star to guide the humble: - Trust in God, and do the right. - - Though the road be long and dreary, - And the goal be out of sight, - Foot it bravely, strong or weary: - Trust in God, and do the right. - - Perish, policy and cunning, - Perish, all that fears the light: - Whether losing, whether winning, - Trust in God, and do the right. - - Fly all forms of guilty passion; - Fiends can look like angels bright; - Heed no custom, school, or fashion: - Trust in God, and do the right. - - Some will hate thee, some will love thee, - Some will flatter, some will slight; - Cease from Man, and look above thee: - Trust in God, and do the right. - - Simple rule and surest guiding, - Inward peace and shining light; - Star upon our path abiding: - Trust in God, and do the right. - - - - -LIX.--SOMEBODY’S DARLING. - -MARIE LACOSTE. - - - Into a ward of the whitewashed walls, - Where the dead and dying lay, - Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, - Somebody’s darling was borne one day-- - Somebody’s darling, so young and so brave, - Wearing yet on his pale, sweet face, - Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave, - The lingering light of his boyhood’s grace. - - Matted and damp are the curls of gold, - Kissing the snow of that fair young brow; - Pale are the lips of delicate mould-- - Somebody’s darling is dying now. - Back from his beautiful, blue-veined brow - Brush all the wandering waves of gold, - Cross his hands on his bosom now, - Somebody’s darling is still and cold. - - Kiss him once for somebody’s sake, - Murmur a prayer soft and low; - One bright curl from its fair mates take,-- - They were somebody’s pride you know. - Somebody’s hand had rested there,-- - Was it a mother’s, soft and white? - And have the lips of a sister fair - Been baptized in those waves of light? - - God knows best; he has somebody’s love; - Somebody’s heart enshrined him there; - Somebody wafted his name above, - Night and morn, on the wings of prayer. - Somebody wept when he marched away, - Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; - Somebody’s kiss on his forehead lay, - Somebody clung to his parting hand. - - Somebody’s waiting and watching for him, - Yearning to hold him again to the heart; - And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, - And the smiling, childlike lips apart. - Tenderly bury the fair young dead, - Pausing to drop on his grave a tear; - Carve on the wooden slab at his head,-- - “_Somebody’s darling slumbers here._” - - - - -LX.--SONG FROM “THE PRINCESS.” - -TENNYSON. - - - Home they brought her warrior dead:-- - She nor swooned nor uttered cry: - All her maidens, watching, said, - “She must weep, or she will die.” - - Then they praised him, soft and low, - Called him worthy to be loved, - Truest friend and noblest foe;-- - Yet she neither spoke nor moved. - - Stole a maiden from her place, - Lightly to the warrior stept, - Took the face-cloth from the face;-- - Yet she neither moved nor wept. - - Rose a nurse of ninety years, - Set his child upon her knee;-- - Like summer tempest came her tears-- - “Sweet my child, I live for thee.” - - - - -LXI.--ANTS AND THEIR SLAVES. - -MICHELET. - - -Peter Huber, the son of the celebrated observer of the manners and -habits of bees, walking one day in a field near Geneva, saw on the -ground a strong detachment of reddish-colored ants on the march, and -bethought himself of following them. On the flanks of the column, as -if to dress its ranks, a few sped to and fro in eager haste. After -marching for about a quarter of an hour, they halted before an ant-hill -belonging to some small black ants, and a desperate struggle took place -at its gates. - -A small number of blacks offered a brave resistance; but the great -majority of the people thus assailed fled through the gates remotest -from the scene of combat, carrying away their young. It was just -these which were the cause of the strife, what the blacks most feared -being the theft of their offspring. And soon the assailants, who had -succeeded in penetrating into the city, might be seen emerging from it, -loaded with the young black progeny. - -The red ants, encumbered with their living booty, left the unfortunate -city in the desolation of its great loss, and resumed the road to their -own habitation, whither their astonished and almost breathless observer -followed them. But how was his astonishment augmented when, at the -threshold of the red ants’ community, a small population of black ants -came forward to receive the plunder, welcoming with visible joy these -children of their own race, which would perpetuate it in the foreign -lands! - -This, then, is a mixed city, where the strong warrior-ants live on a -perfectly good understanding with the little blacks. But what of the -latter? Huber speedily discovered that, in fact, they do everything. -They alone build; they alone bring up the young red ants and the -captives of their own species; they alone administer the affairs of -the community, provide its supplies of food, and wait upon and feed -their red masters, who, like great infant giants, indolently allow -their little attendants to feed them at the mouth. No other occupations -are theirs but war, theft, and kidnapping. No other movements in the -intervals than to wander about lazily, and bask in the sunshine at the -doors of their barracks. - -Huber made an experiment. He was desirous of observing what would -be the result if the great red ants found themselves without -servants,--whether they would know how to supply their own wants. -He put a few into a glass case, and put some honey for them in a -corner, so that they had nothing to do but to take it. Miserable the -degradation, cruel the punishment with which slavery afflicts the -enslavers! They did not touch it; they seemed to know nothing; they had -become so grossly ignorant that they could no longer feed themselves. -Some of them died from starvation, with food before them! - -Huber, to complete the experiment, then introduced into the case one -black ant. The presence of this sagacious slave changed the face of -things, and re-established life and order. He went straight to the -honey, and fed the great dying simpletons. - -The little blacks in many things carry a moral authority whose signs -are very visible. They do not, for example, permit the great red ants -to go out alone on useless expeditions, but compel them to return -into the city. Nor are they even at liberty to go out in a body, if -their wise little slaves do not think the weather favorable, if they -fear a storm, or if the day is far advanced. When an excursion proves -unsuccessful, and they return without children, the little blacks are -stationed at the gates of the city to forbid their ingress, and send -them back to the combat; nay more, you may see them take the cowards by -the collar, and force them to retrace their route. - -These are astounding facts; but they were seen, as here described, by -our illustrious observer. Not being able to trust his eyes, he summoned -one of the greatest naturalists of Sweden, Jurine, to his side, to -make new investigations, and decide whether he had been deceived. -This witness, and others who afterwards pursued the same course of -experiments, found that his discoveries were entirely accurate. -Yet after all these weighty testimonies, I still doubted. But on a -certain occasion I saw it--with my own eyes saw it--in the park of -Fontainebleau. I was accompanied by an illustrious philosopher, an -excellent observer, and he too saw exactly what I saw. - -It was half-past four in the afternoon of a very warm day. From a pile -of stones emerged a column of from four to five hundred red or reddish -ants. They marched rapidly towards a piece of turf, kept in order by -their sergeants or “pivot-men,” whom we saw on the flanks, and who -would not permit any one to straggle. (This is a circumstance known to -everyone who has seen a file of ants on the march.) - -Suddenly the mass seemed to sink and disappear. There was no sign -of ant-hills in the turf; but after a while we detected an almost -imperceptible orifice, through which we saw them vanish in less time -than it takes me to write these words. We asked ourselves if it was an -entrance to their domicile; if they had re-entered their city. In a -minute at the utmost they gave us a reply, and showed us our mistake. -They issued in a throng, each carrying a captive in its mandibles. - -From the short time they had taken, it was evident that they had a -previous knowledge of the locality, the place where the eggs were -deposited, the time when they were to assemble, and the degree of -resistance they had to expect. Perhaps it was not their first journey. -The little blacks on whom the red ants made this raid sallied out in -considerable numbers; and I truly pitied them. They did not attempt -to fight. They seemed frightened and stunned. They endeavored only to -delay the red ants by clinging to them. A red ant was thus stopped; -but another red one, who was free, relieved him of his burden, and -thereupon the black ant relaxed his grasp. - -It was, in fact, a pitiful sight. The blacks offered no serious -resistance. The five hundred ants succeeded in carrying off nearly -three hundred children. At two or three feet from the hole, the blacks -ceased to pursue them, and resigned themselves to their fate. All this -did not occupy ten minutes between the departure and the return. The -two parties were very unequal. It was very probably an outrage often -repeated--a tyranny of the great, who levied a tribute of children from -their poor little neighbors. - - - - -LXII.--THE GRAY SWAN. - -ALICE CARY. - - -[Illustration] - - “Oh! tell me, sailor, tell me true, - Is my little lad, my Elihu, - A-sailing with your ship?” - The sailor’s eyes were dim with dew,-- - “Your little lad, your Elihu?” - He said with trembling lip,-- - “What little lad? What ship?” - - “What little lad? as if there could be - Another such a one as he! - What little lad, do you say? - Why, Elihu, that took to sea - The moment I put him off my knee! - It was just the other day - The Gray Swan sailed away!” - - “The other day?” The sailor’s eyes - Stood open with a great surprise:-- - “The other day?--The Swan?” - His heart began in his throat to rise. - “Ay, ay, sir! here in the cupboard lies - The jacket he had on!” - “And so your lad is gone?” - - “Gone with the Swan!”--“And did she stand - With her anchor clutching hold of the sand, - For a month and never stir?” - “Why, to be sure! I’ve seen from the land - Like a lover kissing his lady’s hand, - The wild sea kissing her,-- - A sight to remember, sir!” - - “But, my good mother, do you know - All this was twenty years ago? - I stood on the Gray Swan’s deck, - And to that lad I saw you throw - (Taking it off, as it might be, so) - The kerchief from your neck,”-- - “Ay, and he’ll bring it back!” - - “And did the little lawless lad, - That has made you sick, and made you sad, - Sail with the Gray Swan’s crew?” - “Lawless! The man is going mad! - The best boy mother ever had:-- - Be sure he sailed with the crew! - What would you have him do?” - - “And he has never written line, - Nor sent you word, nor made you sign, - To say he was alive?” - “Hold! if ’twas wrong, the wrong is mine; - Besides, he may be in the brine; - And could he write from the grave? - Tut, man! What would you have?” - - “Gone twenty years,--a long, long cruise, - ’Twas wicked thus your love to abuse! - But if the lad still live, - And come back home, think you, you can - Forgive him?”--“Miserable man! - You’re mad as the sea; you rave,-- - What have I to forgive?” - - The sailor twitched his shirt of blue; - And from within his bosom drew - The kerchief. She was wild. - “Oh God, my Father! is it true? - My little lad, my Elihu! - And is it--is it--is it you? - My blessed boy, my child, - My dead, my living child!” - - * * * * * - - _My heart leaps up when I behold_ - _A rainbow in the sky:_ - _So was it when my life began;_ - _So is it now I am a man;_ - _So be it when I shall grow old,_ - _Or let me die!_ - _The child is father of the man;_ - _And I could wish my days to be_ - _Bound each to each by natural piety._ - - --_Wordsworth._ - - - - -LXIII.--THE CAPTURE OF A WHALE. - -COOPER. - - -“Tom,” cried Barnstable, starting, “there is the blow of a whale!” - -“Ay, ay, sir!” returned the cockswain with undisturbed composure: “here -is his spout, not half a mile to seaward. The easterly gale has driven -the creature to leeward; and he begins to find himself in shoal water. -He’s been sleeping while he should have been working to windward.” - -“The fellow takes it coolly, too. He’s in no hurry to get an offing.” - -“I rather conclude, sir,” said the cockswain, rolling over his tobacco -in his mouth very composedly, while his little sunken eyes began -to twinkle with pleasure at the sight, “the gentleman has lost his -reckoning, and doesn’t know which way to head to take himself back into -blue water.” - -“’Tis a fin-back!” exclaimed the lieutenant. “He will soon make -headway, and be off.” - -“No, sir, ’tis a right whale,” answered Tom; “I saw his spout. He threw -up a pair of as pretty rainbows as one could wish to see. He’s a real -oil-butt, that fellow!” - -Barnstable laughed, and exclaimed in joyous tones,--“Give strong -way, my hearties! There seems nothing better to be done; let us have -a stroke of a harpoon at that impudent rascal.” The men shouted -spontaneously; and the old cockswain suffered his solemn visage to -relax into a small laugh, while the whale-boat sprang forward like a -courser for the goal. - -During the few minutes they were pulling toward their game, Long Tom -arose from his crouching attitude in the stern-sheets, and transferred -his huge frame to the bows of the boat, where he made such preparations -to strike the whale as the occasion required. The tub, containing -about half a whale line, was placed at the feet of Barnstable, who had -been preparing an oar to steer with in place of the rudder which was -unshipped, in order that, if necessary, the boat might be whirled round -when not advancing. - -Their approach was utterly unnoticed by the monster of the deep, who -continued to amuse himself with throwing the water in two circular -spouts high into the air; occasionally flourishing the broad flukes -of his tail with graceful but terrific force until the hardy seamen -were within a few hundred feet of him, when he suddenly cast his head -downward, and without apparent effort, reared his immense body for -many feet above the water, waving his tail violently, and producing a -whizzing noise that sounded like the rushing of winds. - -The cockswain stood erect, poising his harpoon, ready for the blow; -but, when he beheld the creature assuming this formidable attitude, he -waved his hand to his commander, who instantly signed to his men to -cease rowing. In this situation the sportsman rested a few minutes; -while the whale struck several blows on the water in rapid succession, -the noise of which re-echoed along the cliffs like the hollow reports -of so many cannon. After this wanton exhibition of his terrible -strength, the monster sank again into his native element and slowly -disappeared. - -“Which way did he head, Tom?” cried Barnstable, the moment the whale -was out of sight. - -“Pretty much up and down, sir,” returned the cockswain, his eye -brightening with the excitement of the sport. “He’ll soon run his nose -against the bottom if he stands long on that course, and will be glad -to get another snuff of pure air. Send her a few fathoms to starboard, -sir, and I promise we shall not be out of his track.” - -The conjecture of the experienced old seaman proved true; for in a few -minutes the water broke near them, and another spout was cast into -the air, when the huge animal rushed for half his length in the same -direction, and fell on the sea with a turbulence and foam equal to that -which is produced by the launching of a vessel for the first time into -its proper element. After this evolution, the whale rolled heavily, and -seemed to rest from further efforts. - -His slightest movements were closely watched by Barnstable and his -cockswain; and when he was in a state of comparative rest, the former -gave the signal to his crew to ply their oars once more. A few long -and vigorous strokes sent the boat directly up to the broadside of the -whale, with its bows pointing towards one of the fins, which was at -times, as the animal yielded sluggishly to the action of the waves, -exposed to view. The cockswain poised his harpoon with much precision, -and then darted it from him with a violence that buried the iron in the -body of their foe. The instant the blow was made, Long Tom shouted with -singular earnestness:-- - -“Starn, all!” - -“Stern, all!” echoed Barnstable; when the obedient seamen, by united -efforts, forced the boat in a backward direction, beyond the reach of -any blow from their formidable antagonist. The alarmed animal, however, -meditated no such resistance. Ignorant of his own power, and of the -insignificance of his enemies, he sought refuge in flight. One moment -of stupid surprise succeeded the entrance of the iron; then casting -his huge tail into the air with a violence that threw the sea around -him into increased commotion, he disappeared with the quickness of -lightning amid a cloud of foam. - -“Snub him!” shouted Barnstable. “Hold on, Tom! he rises already.” - -“Ay, ay, sir!” replied the composed cockswain, seizing the line, -which was running out of the boat with a velocity that rendered such -a manœuvre rather hazardous, and causing it to yield more gradually -round the large loggerhead that was placed in the bows of the boat for -that purpose. Presently the line stretched forward; and, rising to the -surface with tremulous vibrations, it indicated the direction in which -the animal might be expected to reappear. Barnstable had cast the bows -of the boat towards that point before the terrified and wounded victim -rose to the surface. His time was, however, no longer wasted in his -sports, but as he ploughed his way along the surface he forced the -waters aside with prodigious energy. The boat was dragged violently in -his wake, and it cut through the billows with a terrific rapidity, that -at moments appeared to bury it in the ocean. - -When Long Tom beheld his victim throwing his spouts on high again, -he pointed with exultation to the jetting fluid, which was streaked -with the deep red of blood, and cried,--“Ay, I’ve touched the fellow’s -life! It must be more than two foot of blubber that stops my iron from -reaching the life of any whale that ever sculled the ocean.” - -“I believe you have saved yourself the trouble of using the bayonet -you have rigged for a lance,” said his commander, who entered into the -sport with all the ardor of one whose youth had been chiefly passed in -such pursuits. “Feel your line, Master Coffin: can we haul alongside of -our enemy? I like not the course he is steering, as he tows us from the -schooner.” - -“’Tis the creatur’s way, sir,” said the cockswain. “You know they need -the air in their nostrils when they run, the same as a man. But lay -hold, boys, and let us haul up to him.” - -The seamen now seized their whale-line, and slowly drew their boat -to within a few feet of the tail of the fish, whose progress became -sensibly less rapid as he grew weak with the loss of blood. In a few -minutes he stopped running, and appeared to roll uneasily on the water, -as if suffering the agony of death. - -“Shall we pull in and finish him, Tom?” cried Barnstable. “A few sets -from your bayonet would do it.” - -The cockswain stood examining his game with cool discretion, and -replied to this interrogatory,-- - -“No, sir! no! He’s going into his flurry; there’s no occasion for using -a soldier’s weapon in taking a whale. Starn off, sir! starn off! the -creatur’s in his flurry.” - -The warning of the prudent cockswain was promptly obeyed; and the -boat cautiously drew off to a distance, leaving to the animal a clear -space while under its dying agonies. From a state of perfect rest, the -terrible monster threw its tail on high as when in sport; but its blows -were trebled in rapidity and violence, till all was hid from view by a -pyramid of foam that was deeply dyed with blood. The roarings of the -fish were like the bellowings of a herd of bulls, and it seemed as if a -thousand monsters were engaged in deadly combat behind the bloody mist -that obstructed the view. - -Gradually these efforts subsided; and, when the discolored water again -settled down to the long and regular swell of the ocean, the fish was -seen exhausted, and yielding passively to its fate. As life departed, -the enormous black mass rolled to one side; and when the white and -glistening skin of the belly became apparent, the seamen well knew that -their victory was achieved. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - flukes - whiz´zing - un-shipped´ (_-shipt´_) - ma-nœu´vre (_mă-noo´ver or -nū-_) - ras´cal - ap-pār´ent - pois´ing (_poiz-_) - cock´swain (or _kŏk´sn_) - launch´ing (_länch-_) - ĕv-o-lū´tion - im´pu-dĕnt - tur´bu-lence - con-jĕct´ure - for´mi-da-ble - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. To get an offing.--2. Has lost his reckoning.--3. _Right_ - whale.--4. Shouted _spontaneously_.--5. Solemn visage.--6. - Crouching attitude.--7. Huge frame.--8. Utterly unnoticed.--9. - Terrific force.--10. _Wanton exhibition_ of his strength.--11. - Singular earnestness.--12. Formidable antagonist.--13. - Tremulous vibrations.--14. Promptly obeyed. - - - - -LXIV.--THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. - -LONGFELLOW. - - -[Illustration] - - Under a spreading chestnut tree - The village smithy stands; - The smith, a mighty man is he, - With large and sinewy hands; - And the muscles of his brawny arms - Are strong as iron bands. - - His hair is crisp, and black, and long, - His face is like the tan; - His brow is wet with honest sweat, - He earns whate’er he can, - And looks the whole world in the face, - For he owes not any man. - - Week in, week out, from morn till night, - You can hear his bellows blow; - You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, - With measured beat and slow, - Like a sexton ringing the village bell, - When the evening sun is low. - - And children coming home from school - Look in at the open door; - They love to see the flaming forge, - And hear the bellows roar, - And catch the burning sparks that fly - Like chaff from a threshing floor. - - He goes on Sunday to the church, - And sits among his boys; - He hears the parson pray and preach, - He hears his daughter’s voice, - Singing in the village choir, - And it makes his heart rejoice. - - It sounds to him like her mother’s voice, - Singing in Paradise! - He needs must think of her once more, - How in the grave she lies; - And with his hard, rough hand he wipes - A tear out of his eyes. - - Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing, - Onward, through life he goes; - Each morning sees some task begin, - Each evening sees it close; - Something attempted, something done, - Has earned a night’s repose. - - Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, - For the lesson thou hast taught! - Thus, at the flaming forge of life - Our fortunes must be wrought; - Thus, on its sounding anvil, shaped - Each burning deed and thought! - - -_Word Exercise._ - - crisp - choir (_kwīr_) - par´son - bĕl´lows (_bĕl´lus_) - honest (_on´est_) - smĭth´y - earned (_ernd_) - sin´ew-y - re-joic´ing (_-jois-_) - toil´ing - mŭs´cles (_mŭs´sls_) - brawn´y - sex´ton - Par´a-dise - - - - -LXV.--THE MONSTER OF THE NILE. - -SIR SAMUEL BAKER. - - -Few creatures are so sly and wary as the crocodile. I watch them -continually as they attack the dense flocks of small birds that throng -the bushes at the water’s edge. These birds are perfectly aware of the -danger, and they fly from the attack, if possible. The crocodile then -quietly and innocently lies upon the surface, as though it had appeared -quite by an accident. It thus attracts the attention of the birds, -and it slowly sails away to a considerable distance, exposed to their -view. The birds, thus beguiled by the deceiver, believe that the danger -is removed, and they again flock to the bush, and once more dip their -thirsty beaks in the stream. - -Thus absorbed in slaking their thirst, they do not observe that their -enemy is no longer on the surface. A sudden splash, followed by a huge -pair of jaws, beneath the bush, which engulf some dozens of victims, -is the signal unexpectedly given of the crocodile’s return--he having -slily dived, and hastened under cover of water to his victims. I have -seen the crocodile repeat this manœuvre constantly: they deceive by a -feigned retreat, and then attack from below. - -In like manner the crocodile perceives, while it is floating on the -surface in mid-stream, or from the opposite side of the river, a woman -filling her girba, or an animal drinking. Sinking immediately, it swims -perhaps a hundred yards nearer, and again appearing for an instant -upon the surface, it assures itself of the position of its prey by a -steady look. Once more it sinks, and reaches the exact spot above which -the person or animal may be. Seeing distinctly through the water, it -generally makes its fatal rush from beneath,--sometimes seizing with -its jaws, and at other times striking the object into the water with -its tail, after which it seizes it, and carries it off. - -The crocodile does not attempt to swallow a large prey at once, but -generally carries it away, and keeps it for a considerable time in its -jaws in some deep hole beneath a rock or the root of a tree, where it -eats it at leisure. The tongue of the crocodile is so unlike that of -any other creature that it can hardly be called by the same name. No -portion of it is detached from the flesh of the lower jaw; it is like -a thickened membrane extending from the gullet to about half-way along -the length of jaw. - -I was one day returning from head-quarters to my station--a distance of -a mile and a half along the river’s bank--when I noticed the large head -of a crocodile about thirty yards from the shore. I knew every inch of -the river, and I was satisfied that the water was shallow. A solitary -piece of waving rush, that grew upon the bank exactly opposite the -crocodile, marked its position. So, stooping down, I retreated inland -from the bank, and then running forward, I crept gently towards the -rush. - -Stooping as low as possible, I advanced till very near the bank (upon -which grew tufts of grass), when, by slowly raising my head, I could -observe the head of the crocodile in the same position, not more than -twenty-six or twenty-eight yards from me. At that distance my rifle -could hit a half-crown; I therefore made sure of bagging. The bank -was about four feet above the water; thus the angle was favorable, -and I aimed just behind the eye. Almost as I touched the trigger, the -crocodile gave a convulsive start, and turning slowly on its back, it -stretched its four legs above the surface, straining every muscle. It -then remained motionless in water about two feet deep. - -My horse was always furnished with a long halter or tethering-rope. So -I ordered two men to jump into the river and secure the crocodile by -a rope fastened round the body behind the fore-legs. This was quickly -accomplished, and the men remained knee-deep, hauling upon the rope -to prevent the stream from carrying away the body. In the meantime -an attendant had mounted my horse and galloped off to the camp for -assistance. - -Crocodiles are very tenacious of life; and although they may be shot -through the brain, and be actually dead for all practical purposes, -they will remain motionless at first; but they will begin instinctively -to move the limbs and tail a few minutes after receiving the shot. -If lying upon a sand-bank, or in deep water, they would generally -disappear unless secured by a rope, as the spasmodic movements of the -limbs and tail would act upon the water, and the body would be carried -away. - -The crocodile, which had appeared stone dead, now began to move its -tail, and my two men who were holding on to the rope cried out that it -was still alive. It was in vain that I assured the frightened fellows -that it was dead. I was on the bank, and they were in the water within -a few feet of the crocodile, which made some difference in our ideas of -its vivacity. Presently the creature really began to struggle, and the -united efforts of the men could hardly restrain it from getting into -deeper water. - -The monster now began to yawn, which so terrified the men that they -would have dropped the rope and fled had they not been afraid of the -consequences, as I was addressing them rather forcibly from the bank. -I put another shot through the shoulder of the struggling monster, -which appeared to act as a narcotic until the arrival of the soldiers -with ropes. No sooner was the crocodile well secured than it began to -struggle violently. But a great number of men hauled upon the rope; and -when it was safely landed, I gave it a blow with a sharp ax on the back -of the neck, which killed it by dividing the spine. - -It was now dragged along the turf until we reached the camp, where -it was carefully measured with a tape, and showed an exact length -of twelve feet three inches from snout to end of tail. The stomach -contained about five pounds’ weight of pebbles, as though it had fed -upon flesh resting upon a gravel bank, and had swallowed the pebbles -that had adhered. Mixed with the pebbles was a greenish slimy matter -that appeared woolly. - -In the midst of this were three undeniable witnesses that convicted the -crocodile of wilful murder. A necklace and two armlets, such as are -worn by the negro girls, were taken from the stomach! This was an old -malefactor that was a good riddance. - -I have frequently seen crocodiles upwards of eighteen feet in length, -and there can be little doubt that they sometimes exceed twenty; but a -very small creature of this species may carry away a man while swimming. - - - - -LXVI.--PRAYER. - -JAMES MONTGOMERY. - - - Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire, - Uttered, or unexpressed; - The motion of a hidden fire - That trembles in the breast. - - Prayer is the burthen of a sigh, - The falling of a tear, - The upward glancing of the eye, - When none but God is near. - - Prayer is the simplest form of speech - That infant lips can try; - Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach - The Majesty on high. - - Prayer is the contrite sinner’s voice - Returning from his ways, - While angels in their songs rejoice, - And cry, Behold, he prays! - - Prayer is the Christian’s vital breath, - The Christian’s native air; - His watchword at the gates of death; - He enters Heaven with prayer. - - The saints, in prayer, appear as one, - In word, and deed, and mind; - While with the Father and the Son - Sweet fellowship they find. - - Nor prayer is made by man alone: - The Holy Spirit pleads; - And Jesus, on the eternal Throne, - For mourners intercedes. - - O Thou, by whom we come to God! - The Life, the Truth, the Way! - The path of prayer Thyself hast trod: - Lord! teach us how to pray! - - * * * * * - -_Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that -fear Him.--Psalm CIII._ - - - - -LXVII.--THE THERMOMETER. - - -All substances produce in us, when we touch them, the sensation of -heat or of cold. The degree of heat of any substance is called its -temperature; and the temperature varies from time to time, according -to circumstances. Boiling water, for example, contains so much heat -that it scalds the skin; but, when removed from the fire, the water -gradually becomes less and less warm, until at last it contains so -little heat that it cools the hand instead of scalding it. - -Our feelings do not always give us true information about the -temperature of the bodies by which we are surrounded. A person comes -into a warm room from the open air on a cold day, and exclaims, “How -warm it is here!” Another person enters the same room from one still -warmer, and cries, “How cold it is here!” The first person gains heat, -and therefore calls the room warm; the second loses heat, and calls it -cold; while, in reality, the air of the room, all the while, is at the -same degree of temperature. - -A nurse prepares water for a child’s bath, and measures the heat by -the feeling of her hand; but she learns from the quick and sudden cry -of the child, when placed in the bath, that what seemed warm to her is -cold to the child. - -These examples show that our sensations are not always a true test of -temperature; and thus, if we wish to measure heat and cold accurately, -we must have some instrument made for the purpose. Such an instrument -we have: it is called a thermometer, a word which means heat-measurer. - -It was long ago noticed that bodies expand, or swell out, when they are -heated; and that they contract, or shrink into less bulk, when they are -cooled. This observation led to the construction of the thermometer; -for to measure the expansion or contraction of a substance is the same -as to measure the quantity of heat that has produced this effect. - -The thermometer consists of a small glass tube of very fine bore and -ending in a hollow bulb. The bulb is entirely filled with a fluid -metal, called mercury, or quicksilver, which rises or falls in the tube -according as it is heated or cooled. The space in the tube above the -mercury is empty: it does not even contain air; for in preparing the -instrument, sufficient heat is applied to the bulb to make the fluid, -by expansion, fill the whole tube, which is then closely sealed at the -upper end by melting the glass: the mercury sinks as it cools, and -leaves the space empty. - -The tube is fastened to a metal or wooden plate, marked so as to -measure the expansion of the mercury. This is called the scale, and the -divisions upon it are called degrees. The degrees are counted upwards -from the bottom, and are expressed by placing a small circle over the -number. There are three different scales in use; that commonly used -in this country is called Fahrenheit’s scale, from the name of the -inventor. - -When the tube of the thermometer is immersed in melting ice or freezing -water, the upper surface of the mercury stands always at the same -point, which is called the _freezing point of water_. On Fahrenheit’s -thermometer this point is marked 32°. Again, when the bulb is held in -the steam of boiling water, the mercury rises to a fixed point, which -is called the _boiling point of water_, and is marked 212°. All bodies -that are as hot as boiling water, raise the mercury to 212°; and all -bodies that are as cold as freezing water, make the mercury shrink -to 32°. The space between these two points is divided into 180 equal -parts, each being called a degree. Similar equal divisions are carried -below the point marked 32°, till 0° is reached, and this last point is -called _zero_. - -The tube of the thermometer may contain some other fluid than mercury; -but, as this metal is in every respect well fitted for the purpose, it -is most generally used in construction of the instrument. - -The thermometer is one of the most useful inventions of science. It -enables travellers to compare the climates of different countries, -and to give us, who stay at home, a distinct idea of them. It is also -necessary in the arts: it enables workmen to apply the exact amount of -heat required in delicate operations, where a little excess might spoil -the whole work. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - scald´ing (_skawld-´_) - Mer´cu-ry - in-vĕnt´or - dĕl´i-cate - im-mersed (_im-merst´_) - sen-sā´tions - sur-round´ed - fast´ened (_fas´snd_) - in´stru-ment - con-trac´tion - ex-păn´sion (_eks-păn´shun_) - op-er-a´tions - Fah´ren-heīt - ther-mom´e-ter - tem´per-a-tūre - con-struc´tion - - - - -LXVIII.--GOLDEN DEEDS. - - -What is a golden deed? It is something which we do for the good of -others when we think more of them than we do of ourselves. And it is -called _golden_, because the rarest and most precious things in all the -world are the acts of unselfish men. - -Let me tell you the story of a golden deed that was performed by -Sir Philip Sidney. This brave English knight was fighting in the -Netherlands, to help the Dutch in their struggle for liberty against -the tyrant, Philip of Spain. In a fierce battle he was struck by a -musket ball, which broke his thigh-bone. Thirsty and faint from loss of -blood, he called for water. - -He had just raised the cup to his lips, when his eye fell on a poor, -dying soldier, who was looking longingly at the cool drink. Without so -much as tasting it, Sidney handed the cup to the poor fellow with these -words: “_Thy necessity is greater than mine._” - -Here is the story of another golden deed. A little boy, named Peter, -who lived in Holland a long time ago, was once on his way home late in -the evening, when he became alarmed at hearing water trickling through -a sluice or gate in one of the many dikes which are so necessary for -the safety of that country; for you must know that Holland is so flat -and low that it is in constant danger of finding itself under water. - -He stopped and thought of what would happen if the hole were not -closed. He had often heard his father tell of the sad disasters which -had come from such small beginnings as this--how, in a few hours, the -little aperture gradually enlarged until the whole defence was washed -away, and the rolling, dashing, angry sea rushed in, and swept on to -the next village, destroying life and property. Should he run home and -alarm the villagers, it would be dark before they could arrive; and -the hole, even then, might become so large as to defy all attempts to -close. What could he do to prevent such a terrible ruin--he, only a -little boy? He sat down on the bank of the canal, stopped the opening -with his hand, and patiently awaited the passing of a villager. But no -one came. Hour after hour rolled by, yet there sat the heroic boy, in -cold and darkness, shivering, wet, and tired, but stoutly pressing his -hand against the water that was trying to pass the dangerous breach. -The remainder of the story is thus told by an American poet, Miss Phœbe -Cary:-- - - He thinks of his brother and sister - Asleep in their safe, warm bed; - He thinks of his father and mother, - Of himself as dying--and dead; - And of how, when the night is over, - They must come and find him at last: - But he never thinks he can leave the place - Where duty holds him fast. - - The good dame in the cottage - Is up and astir with the light, - For the thought of her little Peter - Has been with her all the night. - And now she watches the pathway, - As yester eve she had done; - But what does she see so strange and black - Against the rising sun? - Her neighbors bearing between them - Something straight to her door; - Her child is coming home, but not - As he ever came before! - - “He is dead!” she cries; “my darling!” - And the startled father hears, - And comes and looks the way she looks, - And fears the thing she fears: - Till a glad shout from the bearers - Thrills the stricken man and wife-- - “Give thanks, for your son has saved our land, - And God has saved his life!” - So there in the morning sunshine - They knelt about the boy, - And every head was bared and bent, - In tearful, reverent joy. - - ’Tis many a year since then; but still, - When the sea roars like a flood, - Their boys are taught what a boy can do, - Who is brave, and true, and good; - For every man in that country - Takes his son by the hand, - And tells him of little Peter, - Whose courage saved the land. - They have many a valiant hero, - Remembered through the years, - But never one whose name so oft - Is named with loving tears. - And his deed shall be sung by the cradle, - And told to the child on the knee, - As long as the dikes of Holland - Divide the land from the sea. - -Now let us hear of a golden deed done more than two thousand years -ago--a deed that has made the names of Damon and Pythias famous for -ever. - -In Syracuse there was so hard a ruler that the people made a plot -to drive him out of the city. The plot was discovered, and the king -commanded that the leaders should be put to death. One of these, named -Damon, lived at some distance from Syracuse. He asked that before he -was put to death, he might be allowed to go home to say good-bye to his -family, promising that he would then come back to die, at the appointed -time. - -The king did not believe that he would keep his word, and said, “I will -not let you go unless you find some friend who will come and stay in -your place. Then, if you are not back on the day set for execution, -I shall put your friend to death in your stead.” The king thought to -himself, “Surely no one will ever take the place of a man condemned to -death.” - -Now, Damon had a very dear friend named Pythias, who at once came -forward and offered to stay in prison while Damon was allowed to go -away. The king was very much surprised, but he had given his word; -Damon was therefore permitted to leave for home, while Pythias was shut -up in prison. - -Many days passed,--the time for the execution was close at hand, and -Damon had not come back. The king, curious to see how Pythias would -behave, now that death seemed so near, went to the prison. “Your friend -will never return,” he said to Pythias. - -“You are wrong,” was the answer. “Damon will be here if he can possibly -come. But he has to travel by sea, and the winds have been blowing the -wrong way for several days. However, it is much better that I should -die than he. I have no wife and no children, and I love my friend so -well that it would be easier to die for him than to live without him. -So I am hoping and praying that he may be delayed until my head has -fallen.” - -The king went away more puzzled than ever. The fatal day arrived. Still -Damon had not come, and Pythias was brought forward and mounted the -scaffold. “My prayers are heard,” he cried. “I shall be permitted to -die for my friend. But mark my words. Damon is faithful and true; you -will yet have reason to know that he has done his utmost to be here.” - -Just at this moment a man came galloping up at full speed, on a horse -covered with foam! It was Damon. In an instant he was on the scaffold, -and had Pythias in his arms. “My beloved friend,” he cried, “the gods -be praised that you are safe. What agony have I suffered in the fear -that my delay was putting your life in danger!” - -There was no joy in the face of Pythias, for he did not care to live if -his friend must die. But the king had heard all. At last he was forced -to believe in the unselfish friendship of these two. His hard heart -melted at the sight, and he set them both free, asking only that they -would be his friends also. - - - - -LXIX.--BY COOL SILOAM’S SHADY RILL. - -REGINALD HEBER. - - - By cool Siloam’s shady rill - How sweet the lily grows! - How sweet the breath beneath the hill - Of Sharon’s dewy rose! - Lo! such the child whose early feet - The paths of peace have trod, - Whose secret heart with influence sweet - Is upward drawn to God! - - By cool Siloam’s shady rill - The lily must decay; - The rose that blooms beneath the hill - Must shortly fade away. - And soon, too soon, the wintry hour - Of man’s maturer age - Will shake the soul with sorrow’s power, - And stormy passion’s rage! - - O thou, whose infant feet were found - Within thy Father’s shrine! - Whose years with changeless virtue crowned - Were all alike divine! - Dependent on thy bounteous breath, - We seek thy grace alone, - In childhood, manhood, age, and death, - To keep us still thy own! - - * * * * * - -_Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright: for the end of that man -is peace.--Psalm XXXVII._ - - - - -LXX.--AGE OF TREES. - - -Man counts his life by years; the oak by centuries. At one hundred -years of age, the tree is but a sapling; at five hundred, it is mature -and strong; at six hundred, the gigantic king of the greenwood begins -to feel the touch of Time; but the decline is as slow as the growth -was, and the sturdy old tree rears its proud head and reckons centuries -of old age just as it reckoned centuries of youth. - -It has been said that the patriarch of the forest laughs at history. Is -it not true? Perhaps when the balmy zephyrs stir the trees, the leaves -whisper strange stories to one another. The oaks, and the pines, and -their brethren of the wood, have seen so many suns rise and set, so -many seasons come and go, and so many generations pass into silence, -that we may well wonder what the “story of the trees” would be to us, -if they had tongues to tell it, or we ears fine enough to understand. - -“The king of white oak trees,” says a letter-writer in the year 1883, -“has been chopped down and taken to the saw-mill. It was five hundred -and twenty-five years old, and made six twelve-foot logs, the first one -being six feet in diameter and weighing seven tons.” What a giant that -oak-tree must have been, and what changes in this land of ours it must -have witnessed! It looked upon the forest when the red man ruled there -alone; it was more than a century old when Columbus landed in the New -World; and to that good age it added nearly four centuries before the -ax of the woodman laid it low. - -Yet, venerable as this “king of white oak trees” was, it was but -an infant, compared with other monarchs of the Western solitudes. -One California pine, cut down about 1855, was, according to very -good authority, eleven hundred and twenty years old; and many of its -neighbors in its native grove are no less ancient than it was. Who -shall presume, then, to fix the age of the hoary trees that still rear -their stalwart frames in the unexplored depths of American wildernesses. - -[Illustration] - -In England there are still in existence many trees that serve to link -the far-off past with the living present. Some of them were witnesses -of the fierce struggles between Norman and Saxon when William the -Conqueror planted his standard--“the three bannered lions of Normandy -old”--upon English soil. Then there is the King’s Oak, at Windsor, -which, tradition informs us, was a great favorite with William, when -that bold Norman first enclosed the forest for a royal hunting-ground. - -The Conqueror loved to sit in the shade of the lofty, spreading -tree, and muse--upon what? Who knows what fancies filled his brain, -what feelings stirred his proud spirit, what memories, what regrets, -thrilled his heart, as he sat there in the solitude? Over eight hundred -years have rolled away since the Norman usurper fought the sturdy -Saxon, and, for conqueror as for conquered, life, and its ambitions, -and its pangs, ended long ago; but the mighty oak, whose greenness and -beauty were a delight to the Conqueror, still stands in Windsor Forest. -Eight centuries ago its royal master saw it a “goodly tree.” How old is -it now? - -Older even than this, are the oaks near Croydon, nine miles south of -London. If the botanist may judge by the usual evidences of age, these -trees saw the glitter of the Roman spears as the legions of the Empire -wound their way through the forest-paths or in the green open spaces in -the woodland. Now, the Roman legions left Britain fourteen centuries -ago, having been summoned home to Rome because the Empire was in -danger,--in fact, was hastening to its fall. How wonderful, if fourteen -centuries have spared these oaks at Croydon! - -There is a famous yew that must not go without notice in our record of -ancient trees. This venerable tree stands in its native field, ever -green and enduring, as if the years had forgotten it. Yet it was two -centuries old when, in the adjacent meadow, King John signed Magna -Charta. If we bear in mind that in 1215, the stout English barons -compelled their wicked king to sign the Great Charter, protecting the -rights of his subjects, we may conclude that this patriarch-yew is at -least eight hundred and fifty years old. - -The Parliament Oak--so called because it is said that Edward I., who -ruled England from 1272 to 1307, once held a Parliament under its -branches--is believed to be fifteen hundred years old. If Fine-Ear, of -the fairy-tale, could come and translate for us the whispers of these -ancient English trees, and tell us ever so little of what the stately -monarchs of the wood have seen, what new histories might be written, -what old chronicles reversed! - -On the mountains of Lebanon, a few of the cedars, famous in sacred -and in profane history, yet remain. One of these relics of the past -has been estimated to be three thousand five hundred years old. The -patriarchs of the English forests cannot, then, so far as age is -considered, claim equal rank with the “cedars of Lebanon.” But the -baobab, or “monkey-bread,” of Senegal, must take the first rank among -long-lived trees. Even the “goodly trees” of Lebanon must, if ordinary -proofs can be trusted, yield the palm to their African rival. - -An eminent French botanist of the eighteenth century, whose discoveries -in natural history are of great interest to the world of science, lived -some years in Senegal, and had ample opportunity to observe and study -the wonderful baobab. He saw several trees of this species growing, -and from the most careful calculations, he formed his opinion as to the -age of some of these African wonders. One baobab, which even in its -decay measured one hundred and nine feet in circumference, he believed -to be more than five thousand years old. Truly, the patriarchs of the -forest laugh at history. - - - - -LXXI.--ROCK ME TO SLEEP. - -ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN. - - - Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight, - Make me a child again, just for to-night; - Mother, come back from the echoless shore; - Take me again to your heart as of yore; - Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care, - Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; - Over my slumbers your loving watch keep-- - Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep. - - Backward, flow backward, O tide of the years! - I am so weary of toil and of tears-- - Toil without recompense--tears all in vain-- - Take them and give me my childhood again! - I have grown weary of dust and decay-- - Weary of flinging my soul-wealth away; - Weary of sowing for others to reap-- - Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep. - - Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue, - Mother, O mother, my heart calls for you. - Many a summer the grass has grown green, - Blossomed and faded, our faces between; - Yet with strong yearning and passionate pain - Long I to-night for your presence again. - Come from the silence, so long and so deep-- - Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep. - - Over my heart, in the days that are flown, - No love like mother-love ever has shone; - No other worship abides and endures-- - Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours; - None like a mother can charm away pain - From the sick soul and the world-weary brain. - Slumber’s soft calms o’er my heavy lids creep-- - Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep. - - Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold, - Fall on your shoulders, again, as of old; - Let it drop over my forehead to-night, - Shading my faint eyes away from the light; - For with its sunny-edged shadows once more - Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore; - Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep;-- - Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep. - - Mother, dear mother, the years have been long - Since I last listened your lullaby song; - Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem - Womanhood’s years have been only a dream. - Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace, - With your light lashes just sweeping my face, - Never hereafter to wake or to weep-- - Rock me to sleep, mother--rock me to sleep. - - - - -LXXII.--HEAT:--CONDUCTION AND RADIATION. - - -In a former lesson you read a description of the thermometer, a useful -instrument which enables us to estimate the temperature, or sensible -heat, of substances. - -All bodies, even the coldest, contain heat; and they have also a -tendency to part with their heat to colder substances around them, -until all have the same temperature. Thus, when you lay your hand on a -block of iron or marble, heat leaves your hand to enter the less warm -material and raise its temperature; and it is this abstraction of heat -that produces in you the sensation of cold. - -There is, then, a constant communication or transmission of heat from -one body to another. This communication is effected chiefly in two -ways--by _conduction_ and by _radiation_. In conduction, the bodies are -in contact; in radiation, they are at some distance apart. - -If you push one end of a cold poker into the fire, that end will soon -become warm, and the heat will be propagated from particle to particle -through the poker, until the end most distant from the fire becomes too -hot to be touched without injury. This mode of transmission is called -conduction. Different substances possess this power in very different -degrees. Thus, if instead of a poker you thrust into the fire a bar -of wood of equal length and thickness, you will find that, even when -the inserted end is in flames, the other remains comparatively cold, -and may be handled with impunity. Hence we say that iron is a _good_ -conductor, and wood a _bad_ conductor of heat. - -The conducting power of bodies depends in a great measure on the -closeness of their particles--dense, solid substances being much -better conductors than those which are light and porous. The metals -are the best conductors, but they differ very much among themselves. -The best is silver; the others stand in this respect in the following -order--copper, gold, brass, tin, iron, steel, lead. - -You will now understand why metals feel cold to the touch: it is -because, being good conductors, they carry the heat rapidly away from -that part of our body with which they are in contact. - -Among the bad conductors of heat are fur, wool, cotton, silk, and -linen; straw, paper, feathers, wood, earth, snow, water, and air; and -loose bodies, such as sawdust and shavings, which contain a large -amount of air in the spaces between their particles. - -Our clothing, as you know, is made of wool, cotton, or linen. Can you -tell why such materials are selected for the purpose? It is not, as -many ignorant people suppose, because they are best adapted to _impart_ -warmth. The true reason is that, being bad conductors, they prevent the -cold air and other objects around us from robbing us of the heat which -is produced within our bodies. - -When once you understand what is meant by conduction of heat, and -can distinguish between substances which are good conductors and -those which are not, you will be able to give a reason for many facts -that must appear strange to every one who does not possess such -information. A little reflection, for instance, will enable you to -explain why a linen garment feels colder to the skin than one made of -cotton or wool; why a silver spoon becomes hot when the bowl is left -for a few minutes in a cup of hot liquid; why a metal tea-pot or kettle -is commonly furnished with a handle of wood or ivory; why ice may be -preserved by being wrapped in flannel or covered with sawdust; why a -pump, in frosty weather, should be encased in straw or matting; and why -the farmer welcomes the snow, and regards it as a protection to his -crops. - -Every warm body has the power of sending out rays of heat, as a -luminous body gives out rays of light. This mode of communicating heat -is called _radiation_, and it serves, as we shall see, a very important -purpose in the economy of nature. - -When you stand before a fire, heat-rays stream forth from the burning -fuel, and create in you the sensation of warmth. In this case, the heat -of the fire is communicated to you, not by conduction, but by radiation. - -Everything in nature is constantly radiating heat from its surface. If -a body be surrounded by objects hotter than itself, it becomes heated -by radiation; if it be exposed to the influence of objects colder than -itself, it becomes cooled by radiation; and if the objects around it -are neither hotter nor colder than itself, its temperature remains -unaltered. - -But though all bodies radiate heat, they have not all the same -radiating power. Some substances possess this power in a far greater -degree than others. The metals, though they are the best conductors, -are the worst radiators. This is particularly the case when they are -polished. Dull, dark substances, and especially those which have a -rough or scratched surface, are good radiators; light-colored and -smooth substances, on the other hand, are bad radiators; and this -explains why, as every good housewife knows, a polished metal tea-pot -keeps tea warmer than a black earthen one--it does not part with its -heat so readily. - -Bodies which radiate freely have the power in an equal degree of -_absorbing_ heat; that is, they are as ready to take it in, as they -are to throw it out again. Dark substances, therefore, must be good -absorbers, as they are good radiators of heat. A very simple experiment -will illustrate this fact very clearly. If you spread upon snow, in a -place exposed to the sunbeams, two pieces of cloth of the same texture, -one black and the other white, you will find, after some time, that -under the black cloth the snow has been melted, but under the white -cloth it remains as it was at first. The black material has been heated -quickly and intensely; the white has not been heated at all: the former -has _absorbed_ the sun’s rays; the latter has _reflected_ them. - -The laws of absorption and radiation enable us to explain many curious -facts. Thus, dark-colored clothes are cold in the shade, because they -are then radiating heat from our bodies; but they are warm in the -sunshine, because they are then absorbing the heat that falls upon them -from the sun. On the other hand, light colored clothes are warm in the -shade, and cool in the sunshine. Again, a dish-cover or metal tea-pot -is kept as brightly polished as possible, in order to prevent the -escape of the heat by radiation; a black earthenware tea-pot, on the -contrary, has a dull and dark surface, so that it may be placed on the -hob and absorb the heat. So, too, if a kettle is to heat quickly, the -bottom and sides should be covered with soot, to absorb the heat; while -the upper part should be bright, to prevent radiation. - -It is radiation, also, that accounts for the deposition of dew. It is -a common error to suppose that dew falls in the same manner as rain or -mist, only in much finer particles. Dew, in fact, does not fall, but is -formed on the surface of bodies by the condensation of the moisture of -the atmosphere. - -The air around us contains at all times a quantity of moisture in the -form of vapor. Now this vapor has been formed from water by the action -of heat; and it may again be turned into water by being brought in -contact with objects that are cold. And this is just what takes place -in the formation of dew. When the sun has set, the trees and grass and -other objects on the earth’s surface immediately begin to radiate the -heat which they have absorbed from its beams during the day. The best -radiators, of course, become cool most rapidly, and quickly condense -the vapor that floats in the air around them; and in the morning we -find those objects which radiate freely, such as blades of grass, -leaves of plants, and floating cobwebs, covered with this condensed -vapor in the form of glittering dewdrops. - -Clouds, in a great measure, prevent radiation, and hence the dew will -be most plentiful on a clear and cloudless night. If the radiation -continues till the temperature of the ground is very low, the dew -freezes as it is deposited and forms _hoar-frost_. - -You may see a smooth road or gravel walk quite dry in the morning, -while the grass or box by its side is thickly coated with moisture. Why -is this? It is simply because the road or walk is a bad radiator and -cools slowly, while the grass and box, being good radiators, become -rapidly cold and condense the vapor of the passing air into dew. - -Thus by a wise arrangement, the cultivated fields receive an abundance -of precious moisture, while not a drop is wasted on the bare rock, or -the sterile sands of the desert. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - ster´ĭle - precious (_prĕsh´us_) - ĭg´no-rant - rā-di-ā´tion - pō´rous - il-lŭs´trāte - ăt´mos-phēre (_ăt´mos-fēr_) - text´ure (_tekst´yure_) - par´ti-cle - sen-sā´tion - se-lĕct´ed - dep-o-sĭ´tion (_-zĭsh´un_) - trăns-mis´sion (_trăns-mish´un_) - e-cŏn´o-my - lū´mi-noŭs - ab-sorb´ing - in´flu-ence - cŏn-dŭc´tion - ar-rānge´ment - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Have a _tendency to part_ with their heat.--2. Constant - communication.--3. Heat will be _propagated_.--4. May be - _handled_ with _impunity_.--5. Adapted to impart warmth.--6. - Regards it as a protection.--7. Exposed to the influence.--8. - Remains unaltered.--9. A simple experiment.--10. Heated - _intensely_.--11. Immediately begin to radiate.--12. Thickly - coated with moisture.--13. Wise arrangement.--14. Cultivated - fields.--15. Precious moisture.--16. _Wasted_ on the _bare_ - rock. - - - - -LXXIII.--WHEN ALL THY MERCIES, O MY GOD. - -JOSEPH ADDISON. - - - When all Thy mercies, O my God, - My rising soul surveys, - Transported with the view, I’m lost - In wonder, love, and praise. - - O how shall words with equal warmth - The gratitude declare, - That glows within my ravished heart! - But Thou canst read it there. - - Thy Providence my life sustained, - And all my wants redressed, - When in the silent womb I lay, - And hung upon the breast. - - To all my weak complaints and cries, - Thy mercy lent an ear, - Ere yet my feeble thoughts had learnt - To form themselves in prayer. - - Unnumbered comforts to my soul - Thy tender care bestowed, - Before my infant heart conceived - From whence these comforts flowed. - - When in the slippery paths of youth, - With heedless steps I ran, - Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe, - And led me up to man. - - Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, - It gently cleared my way; - And through the pleasing snares of vice, - More to be feared than they. - - When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou - With health renewed my face; - And when in sins and sorrows sunk, - Revived my soul with grace. - - Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss - Has made my cup run o’er; - And in a kind and faithful friend - Has doubled all my store. - - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts - My daily thanks employ; - Nor is the least a cheerful heart, - That tastes those gifts with joy. - - Through every period of my life - Thy goodness I’ll pursue; - And after death, in distant worlds, - The glorious theme renew. - - When nature fails, and day and night - Divide thy works no more, - My ever-grateful heart, O Lord, - Thy mercy shall adore. - - Through all eternity, to Thee - A joyful song I’ll raise: - But O! eternity’s too short - To utter all thy praise! - - - - -LXXIV.--CANADIAN TREES. - -JAMES BROWN, LL.D. - - -_FIRST READING.--SOFT WOODS._ - -The principal evergreen, or cone-bearing trees, natives of Canada, are -_Pines_, _Firs_, and _Thujas_. - -As every one cannot distinguish a Pine from a Fir, this lesson is -illustrated with drawings, showing the peculiar character of each, so -that any boy or girl may be able, when looking at a cone-bearing tree, -to decide whether it is a Pine or a Fir. - -Fig. 1 represents a small piece of the twig of a White Pine. On -examination it will be seen that the leaves are needle-shaped, and -spring from the young shoot in little tufts of fives, all issuing -from one point. This arrangement and form of the leaf are peculiar to -Pines, and should be kept in mind when examining a tree, in order to -know whether it is a Pine or a Fir. Every Pine tree, however, has not -_five_ leaves issuing from one point; some have only two, and there are -others, again, that have three. - -[Illustration: FIG. 1.] - -Fig. 2 represents a twig of the Hemlock Spruce Fir, a tree well-known -to nearly every young person in Canada. Looking at this illustration, -we at once observe that the leaves are distributed _singly_ on the -young shoot, and stand out in two rows. In the case of a few species -of Fir, however, the leaves are not thus arranged, but are scattered -all round the twigs, being stiff and pointed, as shown in Fig. 3, which -represents a twig of the common Black Spruce Fir. In all cases, Firs -have their leaves springing _singly_ from the twigs, an arrangement by -which any child can distinguish them from Pines. - -[Illustration: FIG. 2.] - -Of all our native trees, Pines are considered the most valuable, as -their timber can be used for almost every purpose for which wood is -required, especially for house-building, ship-building, fencing, and -railway construction. The two principal species are the White and the -Red Pine. - -[Illustration: FIG. 3.] - -The White Pine is one of the grandest trees of our Canadian forests. -It grows to very large proportions on dry, gravelly lands, where it is -not crowded by other trees. We often find individual pine trees rising -to the height of 200 feet, with stems from four to six feet in diameter -near the ground; but in general they may be said to reach 150 feet, -with a diameter of about three feet. In the earlier settled parts of -the country, the best and largest trees of this species were cut down -long ago; but thousands of fine specimens are still to be met with in -the backwoods. - -The Red Pine does not grow to so large a size as the White, nor is -it found so plentifully in our forests. It is to be met with only on -dry, gravelly knolls, and in rocky parts of the country, generally in -patches of small extent, and seldom among other trees. Its timber is of -the best description, and is much sought after by lumbermen. Owing to -this cause it is now comparatively scarce. All Pines are reared from -seeds, which may be found ripe in their cones in the month of November. - -Although our Fir trees are, generally speaking, not so important as -our Pines, still, there are two or three of them well worthy of being -brought under notice here, particularly the Douglas Fir, the Hemlock -Spruce Fir, the common Black Spruce Fir, and the Balsam Fir. - -The Douglas Fir is not found in the woods east of the Rocky Mountains, -but it grows in the immense forests of British Columbia to heights -varying from 150 to 250 feet, with trunks from three to ten feet in -diameter. A peculiar feature of this Fir is, that the bark on old trees -is found from ten to fourteen inches thick. Where full grown, this -grand Fir usually stands apart from other trees, and forms a majestic -object in the landscape, being clothed with horizontal branches from -the base to the top. The timber is exceedingly durable, and in its -native province is much used for general purposes. It is also exported -for ship-masts, the tall, clean stems making the best of material for -this purpose. - -The Hemlock Spruce Fir, most young people of Canada are acquainted -with, as it is widely distributed, and found in many bushes of the -country. In open situations, and on cool-bottomed lands, the Hemlock -is a noble tree; while young it is very graceful in form, and when -approaching maturity its horizontal limbs give it the appearance of the -Cedar of Lebanon. Its timber, however, is not esteemed so highly as -that of the Pine, being of a loose and open character. But, although -this is the case, it is largely used for rough boarding purposes, as -in building barns, and in making side-walks. The bark of this tree is -valuable for tanning leather. - -The Black Spruce Fir, or _Gum Spruce_, as it is often called, is very -common on most flat and cool-bottomed lands in Canada, and also on the -banks of lakes and rivers. It is a tall and beautifully formed tree, -having a dark brown bark, and very dark green leaves. It is from these -characteristics that it derives its name. It grows to a height varying -from 70 to 100 feet, but the stems seldom attain diameters over two -feet at the bottom. The timber, though light, is very tough and strong. - -The Balsam is one of the handsomest members of this family. -Commercially it is not of much value, but as an ornamental tree it is -unsurpassed--its regular conical form, closely set branches, and deep -green leaves, rendering it a conspicuous object in any landscape. The -Balsam seldom exceeds forty or fifty feet in height. - -Although the Firs, like the Pines, are reared from seeds which ripen -in October and November, they may be grown from cuttings of the young -wood, as rare kinds sometimes are when their seeds cannot be had. - -The Thuja, or _Arbor vitæ_, as it is generally called, is a very -useful class of Canadian trees. It grows to a large size, and is found -chiefly on the Pacific slope. There is only one species which is a -native of Ontario, and to it alone we shall here refer. It is known -to most people in Ontario under the name of the _White Cedar_. How it -came to be called a _Cedar_ we do not know; but its true name is the -_Arbor vitæ_. This species is too familiar to the people of the eastern -provinces of Canada to require any lengthened description, as many -farmers have it growing in the swampy parts of their bushes, and find -it useful for various purposes, especially as rails for fencing. - -The leaves of this tree are so small, that to a casual observer, they -scarcely appear to be leaves. If they are closely looked at, however, -it will be seen that they are in opposite pairs, and lie flat and -pressed on the twigs, each pair overlapping the other like the shingles -on a house-top. When they are roughly handled, they give out a strong -aromatic smell. The tree, although it grows to large dimensions--some -times to eighty or ninety feet in height, with stems from two to three -feet in diameter--cannot be considered an ornamental one, as its -branches are too loose and open, and its leaves too small, to give it a -clothed look. Its timber, however, is of the most valuable description, -being very durable, and in this respect it is not surpassed by any -other tree. Much of it is used for railway ties. The Thujas are all -grown from seeds, but like the Firs, they may be reared from cuttings. - - - - -LXXV.--BINGEN ON THE RHINE. - -HON. MRS. NORTON. - - - A soldier of the Legion, lay dying in Algiers; - There was lack of woman’s nursing, there was dearth of woman’s tears; - But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebbed away, - And bent with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. - The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade’s hand, - And he said: “I never more shall see my own, my native land; - Take a message, and a token, to some distant friends of mine, - For I was born at Bingen,--at Bingen on the Rhine. - - “Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around, - To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, - That we fought the battle bravely; and when the day was done, - Full many a corpse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun. - And ’mid the dead and dying were some grown old in wars-- - The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars; - But some were young, and suddenly beheld life’s morn decline; - And one had come from Bingen,--fair Bingen on the Rhine. - - “Tell my mother, that her other sons shall comfort her old age; - And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage; - For my father was a soldier, and, even as a child, - My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild; - And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, - I let them take whate’er they would, but kept my father’s sword; - And with boyish love I hung it, where the bright light used to shine, - On the cottage wall at Bingen,--calm Bingen on the Rhine! - - “Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head, - When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gallant tread; - But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye, - For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die. - And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name, - To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame; - And to hang the old sword in its place (my father’s sword and mine), - For the honor of old Bingen,--dear Bingen on the Rhine! - - “There’s another--not a sister;--in the happy days gone by, - You’d have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye; - Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle scorning,-- - O friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning! - Tell her the last night of my life,--for ere this moon be risen, - My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison-- - I dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sunlight shine - On the vine-clad hills of Bingen,--fair Bingen on the Rhine! - - “I saw the blue Rhine sweep along; I heard, or seemed to hear, - The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear; - And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, - That echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still; - And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk, - Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remembered walk; - And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine,-- - But we’ll meet no more at Bingen,--loved Bingen on the Rhine!” - - His voice grew faint and hoarser; his grasp was childish weak; - His eyes put on a dying look; he sighed, and ceased to speak. - His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled,-- - The soldier of the Legion, in a foreign land--was dead! - And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down - On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strewn; - Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene, her pale light seemed to shine, - As it shone on distant Bingen,--fair Bingen on the Rhine! - - -_Word Exercise._ - - aye (_ā_) - strewn (_strōne_) - vĭne´yard (_vĭn-_) - Le´gion (_lee´jun_) - Rhine (_rīn_) - dearth (_derth_) - Al-giers´ (_-jeers´_) - co-quĕt´ry (_-kĕt´-_) (or _ko´kĕt-ry_) - Bing´en - Ger´man - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1.--A soldier of the _Legion_.--2. Pitying glances.--3. Take a - _token_.--4. Ghastly pale.--5. Beheld life’s morn decline.--6. - Aye a truant bird.--7. To divide his scanty hoard.--8. Gallant - tread.--9. A path beloved of yore.--10. _Soft_ moon. - - - - -LXXVI.--CANADIAN TREES. - -JAMES BROWN, LL.D. - - -_SECOND READING.--HARD WOODS._ - -Let us now briefly describe the principal varieties of our Canadian -trees which lose their leaves every autumn, and are therefore called -_Deciduous Trees_; and first we shall begin with the Oak. There are at -least thirty different species of Oaks found in our Canadian forests, -all growing to a size that makes them valuable as timber. Most of them -form noble specimens of ornamental trees, when they stand out free, and -separate from each other. The White Oak, when so found, is one of the -grandest objects in the vegetable kingdom. The seeds of the Oak, which -are called acorns, are found ripe on the trees in October and November. - -There are about ten different species of Maples found in our woods, all -beautiful and ornamental trees. The Sugar Maple is a tree of especial -beauty, and in the autumn months is remarkable for the brilliant color -of its leaves. The seeds of the Maple are what is called _winged_. They -may be found lying under the old trees in autumn. - -The Ash is another valuable Canadian tree; and of this genus about -twenty species are found in our forests. All are more or less valuable, -both for their timber and for their ornamental qualities. Several of -the species, especially those called the _White_ and the _Black_ Ash, -are found upwards of 100 feet in height, with diameters, close to -the ground, of three to four feet through. The timber is much prized -for its toughness and strength, and is used in the manufacture of -implements, barrel hoops, and the wood-work of machinery. The Ash is -always found on deep land, having a rather damp and cool bottom. The -seeds are ripe in November, and may then be gathered from the trees. - -Of the Beech, there is only one species found in Canada, but here and -there varieties of it are to be met with, caused by difference of soil -and aspect. It grows to a large size, when not closely surrounded by -other trees. Its timber is held in high esteem; but as it does not -last long when exposed to the weather, it should therefore be used for -indoor purposes only. The Beech is not a long-lived tree, as it becomes -matured within 150 years. It succeeds best on dry, gravelly soils. The -seeds are called _nuts_, and are ripe in October, as every country -schoolboy knows. - -The Sweet Chestnut is another of our timber trees deserving of notice. -There is only one species of it to be found in Canada, and it is in -all respects the same as the European Sweet Chestnut. It is a majestic -tree, where found standing alone, and its timber is of a very durable -nature, much sought after for many purposes, especially for posts and -fence-rails. This tree grows best on deep, dry, and strong land, where -it often reaches a height of 100 feet, with a proportionate trunk. The -seeds are called _nuts_, and may be used as food. - -The Hornbeam (or _Ironwood_, as it is generally called in Canada,) -is a tree of moderate size, and is plentiful on the dry parts of our -forest-land. It has much the same appearance as the Beech, but it is -easily distinguished from that tree by the curled edges of its leaves, -and by its darker and rougher bark. The timber is very hard, of a -close and compact texture, and is much used for farm purposes, where -strength is required. The seeds of this tree are called _nuts_, and -each is enclosed in a peculiar leafy substance, called by botanists a -_perianth_. - -The Walnut is found plentifully in most bushes in the southern parts of -Ontario. It includes nine or ten species, all growing to considerable -size, and forming very handsome trees, as for example, the _Black -Walnut_, _Butternut_, _Pecan Nut_, _Hickory_, _Bitter Nut_, and _Hog -Nut_: each having beautiful foliage. The Hickory is especially known -for the toughness and other valuable qualities of its timber; and every -boy is familiar with the delicious nuts which this tree produces. All -these trees grow best on a deep, rich soil. - -The Plane is another member of our Canadian forests deserving of -notice, and is a tree of peculiar beauty. Its wide-spreading branches, -clothed with large leaves, make it well adapted for shelter or -shade. In Canada it is best known by the name of _Cotton-wood_, or -_Button-wood_, and is also familiar as the _Sycamore_. The British name -for it is the Plane Tree. It is found on deep, loamy lands, by the -sides of our rivers and lakes, forming a tall, massive-headed tree, -often upwards of 130 feet in height, with a trunk of from three to five -feet in diameter. The timber is not held in high estimation, though -sometimes used for furniture-making, and for some parts of the inner -work of house-building. The tree can be grown from cuttings of the -young wood. - -The Elm in our woods is a stately tree, and often rises to the height -of 140 feet, with a stem of six feet in diameter. There are several -species of Elm, but the most important is the _White_, which, on -deep and cool-bottomed land, attains the dimensions stated. Where -individuals of this species stand alone, with all their limbs fully -developed, they form grand and imposing objects. The timber of the -various species is used in house-building and in the manufacture of -agricultural implements. The seeds ripen in the early part of summer -when they may be gathered and sown at once. - -Of the Birch there are several species found in our woods, but the -_Tall Birch_ and the _Paper Birch_ are the most important and best -known. Both species are of graceful habit and foliage. The _Paper -Birch_ is particularly remarkable on account of its cream-colored, -paper-like bark. Both kinds attain large dimensions in favorable soil, -being often found from 90 to 100 feet high, with stems of two or three -feet in diameter. It is from the bark of the Paper Birch that the -Indians construct their canoes; hence it is often called the _Canoe -Birch_. The timber of this tree enters largely into the manufacture of -furniture, and for this purpose it is exported to Europe. The seeds are -contained in _catkins_, which hang from the points of the branches, and -ripen in October. - -The Tulip may be easily known by its leaves, which are quite unlike -those of almost any other tree, and much resemble a riding saddle. It -grows to a large size, and is highly ornamental; its luxuriant foliage, -together with its numerous greenish-yellow, tulip-shaped flowers, -giving it a fine appearance. The timber is soft, and of no especial -value. There is only one species. - -Of the Lime we have four different species in our woods, namely: -the _Broad-leaved_, the _Downy-leaved_, the _Thin-leaved_, and the -_Variable-leaved_. This tree is more generally known to Canadians -by the name of _Basswood_. All the species are graceful trees, with -sweet-smelling flowers. Many of them grow to a large size on rich, -deep lands, often attaining the height of 120 feet, with stems ranging -from three to five feet in diameter. The timber is white and soft, -when newly cut up, but, as it becomes seasoned, it acquires firmness -of texture, and when kept dry, lasts well in house-building. It -is employed by shoemakers and saddlers for cutting-boards, and is -well-suited for carving purposes. - - - - -LXXVII.--BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. - -CHARLES WOLFE. - - - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, - As his corpse to the rampart we hurried; - Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot - O’er the grave where our hero we buried. - - We buried him darkly at dead of night, - The sods with our bayonets turning; - By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light, - And the lantern dimly burning. - - No useless coffin enclosed his breast, - Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; - But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, - With his martial cloak around him. - - Few and short were the prayers we said, - And we spoke not a word of sorrow; - But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, - And we bitterly thought of the morrow. - - We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed, - And smoothed down his lonely pillow, - That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head, - And we far away on the billow! - - Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone, - And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him,-- - But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on - In the grave where a Briton has laid him. - - But half of our heavy task was done - When the clock struck the hour for retiring; - And we heard the distant and random gun - That the foe was sullenly firing. - - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, - From the field of his fame fresh and gory; - We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, - But we left him alone with his glory. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. We buried him _darkly_.--2. At dead of night.--3. Misty - light.--4. _Useless_ coffin.--5. _Martial_ cloak.--6. - _Bitterly_ thought.--7. _Lightly_ they’ll talk.--8. Little - he’ll _reck_.--9. _Random_ gun.--10. _Sullenly_ firing.--11. - Field of his fame. - - - - -LXXVIII.--THE GOLDEN TOUCH. - -NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. - - -_FIRST READING._ - -[Illustration] - -Once upon a time, there lived a very rich man, and a king besides, -whose name was Midas; and he had a little daughter, whom nobody but -myself ever heard of, and whose name I either never knew, or have -entirely forgotten. So, because I love odd names for little girls, I -choose to call her Marygold. - -This King Midas was fonder of gold than of any thing else in the -world. He valued his royal crown chiefly because it was composed of -that precious metal. If he loved any thing better, or half so well, -it was the one little maiden who played so merrily around her father’s -footstool. But the more Midas loved his daughter, the more did he -desire and seek for wealth. He thought, foolish man! that the best -thing he could possibly do for this dear child would be to bequeath her -the largest pile of glistening coin, that had ever been heaped together -since the world was made. - -Thus he gave all his thoughts and all his time to this one purpose. -If ever he happened to gaze for an instant at the gold-tinted clouds -of sunset, he wished that they were real gold, and that they could be -squeezed safely into his strong box. When little Marygold ran to meet -him, with a bunch of buttercups and dandelions, he used to say, “Pooh, -pooh, child! If these flowers were as golden as they look, they would -be worth the plucking!” - -At length (as people always grow more and more foolish, unless they -take care to grow wiser and wiser) Midas had got to be so exceedingly -unreasonable, that he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object -that was not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to pass a large -portion of every day in a dark and dreary apartment, under ground, at -the basement of his palace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To -this dismal hole--for it was little better than a dungeon--Midas betook -himself, whenever he wanted to be particularly happy. - -Here, after carefully locking the door, he would take a bag of gold -coin, or a gold cup as big as a washbowl, or a heavy golden bar, or -a peck-measure of gold-dust, and bring them from the obscure corners -of the room into the one bright and narrow sunbeam that fell from the -dungeon-like window. He valued the sunbeam for no other reason but -that his treasure would not shine without its help. - -And then would he reckon over the coins in the bag; toss up the bar, -and catch it as it came down; sift the gold-dust through his fingers; -look at the funny image of his own face, as reflected in the burnished -circumference of the cup; and whisper to himself, “O Midas, rich King -Midas, what a happy man art thou!” - -Midas was enjoying himself in his treasure-room, one day, as usual, -when he perceived a shadow fall over the heaps of gold; and, looking -up, he beheld the figure of a stranger, standing in the bright and -narrow sunbeam! It was a young man, with a cheerful and ruddy face. - -Whether it was that the imagination of King Midas threw a yellow tinge -over every thing, or whatever the cause might be, he could not help -fancying that the smile with which the stranger regarded him had a kind -of golden brightness in it. Certainly, there was now a brighter gleam -upon all the piled-up treasures than before. Even the remotest corners -had their share of it, and were lighted up, when the stranger smiled, -as with tips of flame and sparkles of fire. - -As Midas knew that he had carefully turned the key in the lock, and -that no mortal strength could possibly break into his treasure-room, -he, of course, concluded that his visitor must be something more than -mortal. - -Midas had met such beings before now, and was not sorry to meet one -of them again. The stranger’s aspect, indeed, was so good-humored and -kindly, if not beneficent, that it would have been unreasonable to -suspect him of intending any mischief. It was far more probable that -he came to do Midas a favor. And what could that favor be, unless to -multiply his heaps of treasure? - -The stranger gazed about the room; and, when his lustrous smile had -glistened upon all the golden objects that were there, he turned again -to Midas. - -“You are a wealthy man, friend Midas!” he observed. “I doubt whether -any other four walls on earth contain so much gold as you have -contrived to pile up in this room.” - -“I have done pretty well,--pretty well,” answered Midas, in a -discontented tone. “But, after all, it is but a trifle, when you -consider that it has taken me my whole lifetime to get it together. If -one could live a thousand years, he might have time to grow rich!” - -“What!” exclaimed the stranger. “Then you are not satisfied?” - -Midas shook his head. - -“And pray, what would satisfy you?” asked the stranger. “Merely for the -curiosity of the thing, I should be glad to know.” - -Midas paused and meditated. He felt sure that this stranger, with -such a golden lustre in his good-humored smile, had come hither with -both the power and the purpose of gratifying his utmost wishes. Now, -therefore, was the fortunate moment, when he had but to speak, and -obtain whatever possible, or seemingly impossible thing, it might come -into his head to ask. So he thought and thought, and thought, and -heaped up one golden mountain upon another, in his imagination, without -being able to imagine them big enough. - -At last a bright idea occurred to King Midas. - -Raising his head, he looked the lustrous stranger in the face. - -“Well, Midas,” observed his visitor, “I see that you have at length hit -upon something that will satisfy you. Tell me your wish.” - -“It is only this,” replied Midas. “I am weary of collecting my -treasures with so much trouble, and beholding the heap so diminutive, -after I have done my best. I wish every thing that I touch to be -changed to gold!” - -The stranger’s smile grew so bright and radiant, that it seemed to fill -the room like an outburst of the sun, gleaming into a shadowy dell, -where the yellow autumnal leaves--for so looked the lumps and particles -of gold--lie strewn in the glow of light. - -“The Golden Touch!” exclaimed he. “You certainly deserve credit, friend -Midas, for striking out so brilliant a fancy. But are you quite sure -that this will satisfy you?” - -“How could it fail?” said Midas. - -“And will you never regret the possession of it?” - -“What could induce me?” asked Midas. “I ask nothing else, to render me -perfectly happy.” - -“Be it as you wish, then,” replied the stranger, waving his hand in -token of farewell. “To-morrow, at sunrise, you will find yourself -gifted with the Golden Touch.” - -The figure of the stranger then became exceedingly bright, and Midas -involuntarily closed his eyes. On opening them again, he beheld only -one yellow sunbeam in the room, and, all around him, the glistening of -the precious metal which he had spent his life in hoarding up. - - - - -LXXIX.--THE ROAD TO THE TRENCHES. - -LUSHINGTON. - - -[Illustration] - - “Leave me, comrades, here I drop,-- - No, sir, take them on, - All are wanted, none should stop, - Duty must be done; - Those whose guard you take will find me - As they pass below.” - So the soldier spoke, and staggering, - Fell amid the snow; - And ever on the dreary heights, - Down came the snow. - - “Men, it must be as he asks; - Duty must be done; - Far too few for half our tasks, - We can spare not one. - Wrap him in this; I need it less; - Fear not, they shall know; - Mark the place, yon stunted larch,-- - Forward,”--on they go; - And silent on their silent march, - Down sank the snow. - - O’er his features as he lies, - Calms the wrench of pain: - Close faint eyes, pass cruel skies, - Freezing mountain plain; - With far, soft sound, the stillness teems, - Church bells--voices low, - Passing into English dreams - There amid the snow; - And darkening, thickening o’er the heights, - Down fell the snow. - - Looking, looking for the mark, - Down the others came, - Struggling through the snowdrifts stark, - Calling out his name; - “Here,--or there; the drifts are deep; - Have we passed him?”--No! - Look, a little growing heap, - Snow above the snow; - Where heavy on his heavy sleep, - Down fell the snow. - - Strong hands raised him, voices strong - Spoke within his ears; - Ah! his dreams had softer tongue, - Neither now he hears. - One more gone for England’s sake, - Where so many go, - Lying down without complaint, - Dying in the snow; - Starving, striving for her sake, - Dying in the snow. - - Simply done his soldier’s part, - Through long months of woe; - All endured with soldier heart, - Battle, famine, snow. - Noble, nameless, English heart, - Snow cold, in snow! - - - - -LXXX.--THE ROOT. - -FIGUIER. - - -Commit a seed to the earth; plant, for example, a Lima bean, at the -depth of two inches in moist vegetable soil. The seed will not be -slow to germinate; first swelling, and then bursting its outer skin, -a vegetable in miniature will, after a time, slowly reveal itself -to the observer. In the meantime two very distinct parts make their -appearance; one, yellowish in color, already throwing out slender -fibrous shoots, sinks farther into the soil,--this is the _radicle_, or -root; the other of a pale greenish color, takes the opposite direction, -ascends to the surface, and rises above the ground,--this is the stem. - -This root and stem are the essential organs of vegetation, without -which, when we have excepted certain vegetables of an inferior order, -plants adorned with leaves and flowers cannot exist. How vast the -difference between the verdant top of a tree, which rises graceful -and elegant into mid-air,--not to speak of the flower it bears--and -the coarse, tangled mass of its roots and rootlets, without harmony, -without symmetry! These organs, so little favored in their appearance, -have, however, very important functions in the order of vegetable -action. - -The chief offices of the root are two: in the first place, it attaches -the plant to the soil, holds it in its place, and prevents it from -being overwhelmed by the elements. In the second, it feeds the plant by -absorbing from the earth the sap necessary to its growth. How is this -done? - -The root branches again and again as it grows, throwing out numerous -smaller branches. These hollow, thread-like rootlets suck up, from the -soil, the water and other things, which are to go, through the stem or -trunk and the branches, to all the leaves. Here these are made into the -perfect sap, which, being distributed, causes the plant to grow, to -blossom, and to bear fruit. - -The manner in which roots succeed in overcoming obstacles, has always -been a subject of surprise to the observer. The roots of trees and -shrubs, when cramped or hindered in their progress, have been observed -to exhibit considerable mechanical force, throwing down walls or -splitting rocks; in other cases, clinging together in bunches, or -spreading out their fibres over a prodigious space, in order to follow -the course of a rivulet with its friendly moisture. - -A celebrated botanist of the last century relates that, wishing to -preserve a field of rich soil from the roots of a row of elms, which -would soon have exhausted it, he had a ditch dug between the field -and the trees in order to cut the roots off from it. But he saw with -surprise that those roots, which had not been severed in the operation, -had made their way down the slope so as to avoid meeting the light, had -passed under the ditch, and were again spreading themselves over the -field. - -There are some roots which are developed along the stem itself. -These supplementary organs come as helps to the roots properly so -called, and replace them when by any cause they have been destroyed. -In the primrose, for example, both the principal and the secondary -roots springing from it, perish after some years of growth, but the -supplementary roots, springing from the lower part of the stalk, -prevent the plant from dying. - -In the tropical forests of America and Asia, the vanilla, whose fruit -is so sought after for its sweet aroma, twines its slender stem round -the neighboring trees, forming an elegant, flexible, and aerial -garland, an ornament in these vast solitudes, at once grateful and -pleasing. The underground roots of the vanilla would not be sufficient -for the nutriment of the plant, and the rising of the nourishing sap -would take place too slowly. But Nature makes up for this inconvenience -by the air roots which the plant throws out at intervals along its -stem. Living in the warm and humid atmosphere of tropical forests, -the stronger shoots soon reach the ground and root themselves in the -soil. Others float freely in the atmosphere, inhaling the moisture and -conveying it to the parent stem. - -A grand tree--the banyan, or the pagoda fig-tree--adorns the landscape -of India, and presents the most remarkable development of aerial -roots. When the parent stem has attained the height of some fifty -or sixty feet, it throws out side branches in every direction, and -each branch in its turn throws out supplementary roots, which descend -perpendicularly in long slender shoots till they reach the ground. -When they have rooted themselves in the soil, they increase rapidly in -diameter, and soon form around the parent stem thousands of columns, -each throwing out new lateral branches and new roots. - - “The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow - About the mother tree, a pillared shade.” - -The natives love to build their temples in the intervals left between -these roots of the wild fig-tree. A famous banyan tree on the Nerbuddah -is said by Professor Forbes to have three hundred large and three -thousand smaller aerial roots; it is capable of sheltering thousands of -men, and thus forms one of the marvels of the vegetable world; it is, -in short, a forest within a forest. - -Roots constantly endeavor to bury themselves in the earth. They seem to -shun the light of day; and this tendency is to be seen from the very -first moment when the root shows itself in the seed. The tendency is so -decided, and appears so inherent in the life of all vegetables, that -if we reverse a germinating seed, placing it with the root upwards, -the root and the stem will twist round of themselves,--the stem will -stretch upward, and the root will bury itself in the ground. - - - - -LXXXI.--THE WATER FOWL. - -BRYANT. - - -[Illustration] - - Whither, midst falling dew, - While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, - Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue - Thy solitary way? - - Vainly the fowler’s eye - Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, - As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, - Thy figure floats along. - - Seek’st thou the plashy brink - Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, - Or where the rocking billows rise and sink - On the chafed ocean side? - - There is a Power whose care - Teaches thy way along that pathless coast,-- - The desert and illimitable air,-- - Lone wandering, but not lost. - - All day thy wings have fanned, - At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere; - Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, - Though the dark night is near. - - And soon that toil shall end; - Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, - And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend - Soon o’er thy sheltered nest. - - Thou’rt gone; the abyss of heaven - Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart - Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, - And shall not soon depart: - - He, who from zone to zone, - Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, - In the long way that I must tread alone, - Will lead my steps aright. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. _Glow_ the heavens.--2. The last steps of day.--3. Rosy - depths.--4. Pursue thy solitary way.--5. Might _mark_ thy - _distant flight_.--6. Darkly painted.--7. Plashy brink.--8. - _Marge_ of river.--9. Rocking billows.--10. _Chafed_ - side.--11. Pathless coast.--12. The _desert_ and _illimitable_ - air.--13. Lone wandering.--14. Thy wings have _fanned the - atmosphere_.--15. _Welcome_ land.--16. _Sheltered_ nest.--17. - The _abyss_ of heaven.--18. _Boundless_ sky.--19. Certain - flight. - - - - -LXXXII.--SHAPES OF LEAVES. - -GUSTAVUS FRANKENSTEIN. - - -_FIRST READING._ - -By far the greater number of plants have leaves of an oval shape, and -we have only to go through our forests and gardens to see them on every -hand. Exceedingly varied are they indeed, from very narrow to very -broad oval, some with toothed, some with smooth edges, and some even -deeply notched; and yet to such an extent does this tendency toward a -rounded form prevail, that there seems scarcely a plant in whose leaves -a trace of the oval may not be found. - -The apple tree gives us a good specimen of an oval leaf; and an immense -number of plants have leaves resembling it in shape. In many plants, -the leaves are almost the very counterpart of those of the apple-tree; -in some, they are narrower, and in others, still narrower, till we come -to very slender blades like those of the grasses; and then, beyond -still, to the needle-like leaves of the pines. On the other hand, -plants are to be found with leaves broader than the apple-leaf; and so -on, rounder and rounder, until we come to such plants as the nasturtium -and the water-lily, whose leaves are almost as round as circles. - -[Illustration: LEAF OF APPLE.] - -There are certainly to be met with most remarkable departures from -the oval shape, and we need but refer to such leaves as those of the -buckwheat, to find that roundness seems to be entirely absent. - -[Illustration: BUCKWHEAT LEAF.] - -This style of leaf, of which there are many variations, is apparently -built on the model of the heart-shaped leaf, of which the morning-glory -affords a familiar example. It will be noted, however, that instead of -the curvilinear flow of outline, in which a tendency to oval roundness -is plainly visible, the hastate leaf of the buckwheat is angular -throughout. - -[Illustration: MORNING-GLORY LEAF.] - -Another marked characteristic of most leaves is, that they terminate -in a point, either sharp to extreme slenderness, or blunt to broad -roundness; for even in a circular leaf there is one point which is its -extremity, and to which the margin from either side approaches by a -convexity. To this pointedness of leaves the exceptions are exceedingly -rare. A plant found in some parts of our own country--the magnificent -tulip-tree--presents, perhaps, the most extraordinary of all. - -[Illustration: LEAF OF TULIP-TREE.] - -Now this leaf comes out of a bud-case which is actually oval. The young -leaf is folded double inside of its bud-case; and, besides, its small -stalk is bent over so as to bring the little leaf to hold its end -downwards. We can see this curious arrangement very well, just after -the bud has opened, and the young leaf has come out. However, it soon -straightens up, holds its little head aloft, and looks like a pretty -little flag. After this it spreads apart into the full leaf, and stands -up like a banner. If the bud be held up to the light, the young leaf -can be seen nicely folded up inside, with its head snugly bent down. -There is nothing prettier, or more curious, to be seen in the woods, -than the young buds of the tulip-trees, when they are about to open, or -after they have unfurled their little flags; and all summer long, even -from earliest spring, the tulip-trees are continually unfolding their -buds. - -[Illustration: OPENING LEAF-BUD OF TULIP-TREE.] - -[Illustration: EARLY LEAF-BUD OF TULIP-TREE.] - -There are leaves broader above than below, and some, instead of ending -in a point, have a notch or indentation of some sort. Oak-trees give -us many fine and varied samples of notched and lobed leaves. And yet -the leaf of the chestnut-oak is not at all notched, being simply ovate, -pointed, and toothed. The leaves of the bur and the pin oaks, on the -contrary, are lobed and notched, and are therefore characteristic -oak-leaves, while those of the chestnut-oak are not so, because almost -all oaks have leaves more or less scalloped or deeply indented. - -Great as is the variety in the shapes of oak leaves, any one of them -would almost surely be at once recognized as belonging to an oak-tree -by its peculiar scallopings. But suppose a person had never seen or -heard of a chestnut-oak leaf, would he be likely to recognize such a -leaf simply by its outline? There is still another oak with simple -leaves; and they are not even toothed, but entirely smooth all around -the edge. Looking at that tree, which is called the willow-oak, -scarcely anyone would suppose it to be an oak unless he could see its -flowers or its fruit, the acorns. - -[Illustration: CHESTNUT-OAK LEAF.] - -[Illustration: BUR-OAK LEAF.] - -[Illustration: PIN-OAK LEAF.] - -This fact brings us to consider a very important point in the study of -a plant. It is not the leaf which tells us what kind of plant it is: -it is the flower and the fruit. Whatever be the shape of the leaf, if -the plant bears acorns it is an oak. If a tree has cherries and cherry -blossoms, it is a cherry. - -It is true that, in many families of plants, leaves, by their shape -alone, announce at once the kind of plant to which they belong; at the -same time there is a large number of plants that cannot be known by -their leaves, but only by their flowers and fruits. It is by flowers -and fruits that plants are classified; and the more nearly alike these -are in two plants, the more closely are those plants related. The -flower and the fruit proclaim the nature of the plant. “A tree is -known by its fruit.” - - - - -LXXXIII.--THE BROOK. - -TENNYSON. - - -[Illustration] - - I come from haunts of coots and hern, - I make a sudden sally, - And sparkle out among the fern, - To bicker down a valley. - - By thirty hills I hurry down, - Or slip between the ridges, - By twenty thorps, a little town, - And half a hundred bridges. - - Till last by Phillip’s farm I flow - To join the brimming river, - For men may come and men may go, - But I go on for ever. - - I chatter over stony ways, - In little sharps and trebles, - I bubble into eddying bays, - I babble on the pebbles. - - With many a curve my banks I fret - By many a field and fallow, - And many a fairy foreland set - With willow-weed and mallow. - - I chatter, chatter, as I flow - To join the brimming river, - For men may come and men may go, - But I go on for ever. - - I wind about, and in and out, - With here a blossom sailing, - And here and there a lusty trout, - And here and there a grayling, - - And here and there a foamy flake - Upon me, as I travel, - With many a silvery waterbreak - Above the golden gravel. - - And draw them all along, and flow - To join the brimming river, - For men may come and men may go, - But I go on for ever. - - I steal by lawns and grassy plots, - I slide by hazel covers; - I move the sweet forget-me-nots - That grow for happy lovers. - - I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, - Among my skimming swallows; - I make the netted sunbeam dance - Against my sandy shallows. - - I murmur under moon and stars - In brambly wildernesses; - I linger by my shingly bars; - I loiter round my cresses; - - And out again I curve and flow - To join the brimming river, - For men may come, and men may go, - But I go on for ever. - - - - -LXXXIV.--SHAPES OF LEAVES. - -GUSTAVUS FRANKENSTEIN. - - -_SECOND READING._ - -Although the flower and its fruit tell us what the plant is, and leaves -do not with any certainty, there is yet a strong similarity, as well -in texture as in shape, in the leaves of most of the plants comprised -within any one family. Especially in texture is this marked similarity -observable; and, perhaps, in most cases the peculiar structure of the -leaf, aside from its shape, is indicative of the order to which the -plant belongs. The leaves of the grasses are very much alike; so are -the leaves of the sedges;--and though it is true, also, that in some -instances a sedge-leaf might be mistaken for a grass-leaf, it must be -remembered that the sedge family and the grass family have some points -of similarity. - -Again, if we should come upon a plant belonging to the common potato -or nightshade family, we should be almost sure to recognize the -family resemblance at the very first glance, provided we were already -familiar with a number of plants included in that order. Yet the -leaves of the nightshade family vary considerably in shape, and it is -therefore decisively the texture and peculiar appearance of the leaves, -that announce the kinship of the plant. And thus we are led back to -the consideration of the willow-oak and chestnut-oak leaves, which, -entirely unlike the typical oak-leaf in shape, are yet very much like -all other oak leaves in texture and other essential structure. - -[Illustration: LEAF OF THE ROSE.] - -Still more widely divided than oak leaves, are such as are called -pinnate, in which the separated parts are actually distinct leaflets, -some even provided with stalks. Such compound leaves may be seen -in almost every garden by looking at a rose-bush. In the cut, we -see what appears to be five distinct leaves attached to one twig; -but the fact is that they are only leaflets, and, together with the -stalk which bears them all, constitute but one complete leaf. Each of -these leaflets has a short stalk, connecting it with the main stem, -which passes between the pairs, and has an odd leaflet at the end. A -rose-bush may have leaves of seven or nine leaflets. - -Among our forest trees, hickory, walnut, butternut, locust, and ash -have pinnate leaves; and on the honey-locust not only are the leaves -pinnate, but on the same tree, may also be found leaves doubly pinnate, -and even tripinnate. Compound leaves may be seen also in the pea-vine, -which is simply pinnate; but here the place of the absent terminal -leaflet is supplied by a tendril. - -But if we examine a bean-plant, we do find an odd leaf, together with a -pair of leaflets; that is, each leaf is composed of three leaflets. The -many varieties of bean-plants are all thus three-leaved. Besides, the -woods are full of three-leaved plants, belonging to other kinds of the -bean or pulse order of plants. In addition to these and some others, we -must not overlook a most extraordinary three-leaved plant, plentiful in -almost every forest, and on almost every stone-fence in the country; -only too well known by persons who have been poisoned by it, and yet -not so well known by most people as it ought to be, for it is often -confounded with a plant having digitate leaves. - -[Illustration: LEAF OF POISON-VINE.] - -[Illustration: LEAF OF VIRGINIA CREEPER.] - -Here, side by side, the forms of the two leaves can be compared. On the -right is the digitate leaf of the beautiful Virginia creeper, entirely -harmless; on the left is the pinnate leaf of the poison-vine. The -innocent plant is _five_-leaved; the noxious plant is _three_-leaved. -But we should also notice particularly that the arrangement of the -leaflets is quite different in the two plants. In the poison-vine, we -see a pair of leaflets and a terminal odd one; whereas in the Virginia -creeper, there is no pairing of leaflets whatever, but the five parts -radiate from a centre. All the leaflets come out together from one -point at the tip of the leaf-stalk. - -Plants there are with digitate leaves, having three, five, seven, nine, -or more leaflets. Clover has digitate leaves of three leaflets, while -the leaves of the buck-eye and horse-chestnut have five, seven, and -nine leaflets. The pretty little wood-sorrel plant of small yellow -flowers, has three most beautiful, inverted, heart-shaped leaflets, -radiating from the tip of the little leaf-stalk. - -[Illustration: LEAFLET OF WOOD-SORREL.] - -In leaves like those of the maple we see the main veins radiating from -a point at the top of the stalk. Such leaves are therefore much like -the digitate kind, only they are not completely divided into separate -leaflets. - -[Illustration: MAPLE LEAF.] - -Sassafras leaves offer forms something different. On the same tree -may be seen oval, two-lobed, and three-lobed leaves. Thus on one and -the same plant, we see leaves strikingly different in form; yet the -texture, the color, and the veining are exactly after the same pattern -in them all, so that a sassafras leaf, whether oval or cleft, can at -once be easily known. - -Recalling to mind the leaf of the apple, buckwheat, morning-glory, -oak, rose, Virginia creeper, maple, and sassafras, we have pretty good -models after which nearly all leaves are built, approximating to one or -other of these, with certain variations peculiar to the species. - -Another important matter regarding the leaves of plants, is their -relative position on the stems. There are two principal and very -marked arrangements of leaves. Leaves are either opposite one another -on the stem, or they are alternate or not opposite. There are whole -orders of plants with none but opposite leaves, as the mint family. In -other orders, the leaves of every plant are alternate. And again, in -some orders, and even on the same plants, are found both opposite and -alternate leaves, as in the composite or sunflower family; and a single -wild sunflower plant itself has opposite leaves below, and alternate -leaves above. - -Of our forest trees, there are very few species with opposite leaves. -If you see that the branches and leaves of a tree do not stand one -opposite another on the stem, you can at once be sure that it is not an -ash, a maple, or a buck-eye, because all these trees do have opposite -leaves. On the other hand, there are many trees having alternate -branches and leaves, such as the oak, chestnut, elm, hickory, walnut, -butternut, tulip-tree, alder, beech, birch, poplar, willow, mulberry, -linden, locust, and others. - - - - -LXXXV.--THE BURIAL OF MOSES - -MRS. CECIL FRANCES ALEXANDER. - - - By Nebo’s lonely mountain, - On this side Jordan’s wave, - In a vale in the land of Moab, - There lies a lonely grave. - And no man knows that sepulchre, - And no man saw it e’er; - For the angels of God upturned the sod, - And laid the dead man there. - - That was the grandest funeral - That ever passed on earth; - But no man heard the trampling, - Or saw the train go forth;-- - Noiselessly as the daylight - Comes when the night is done, - And the crimson streak on ocean’s cheek - Grows into the great sun; - - Noiselessly as the spring-time - Her crown of verdure weaves, - And all the trees on all the hills - Open their thousand leaves: - So, without sound of music, - Or voice of them that wept, - Silently down from the mountain’s crown - The great procession swept. - - Perchance the bald old eagle, - On gray Beth-peor’s height, - Out of his lonely eyrie - Looked on the wondrous sight; - Perchance the lion stalking, - Still shuns that hallowed spot; - For beast and bird have seen and heard - That which man knoweth not. - - But when the warrior dieth, - His comrades in the war, - With arms reversed and muffled drum, - Follow his funeral car; - They show the banners taken, - They tell his battles won, - And after him lead his masterless steed, - While peals the minute gun. - - Amid the noblest of the land, - We lay the sage to rest, - And give the bard an honored place, - With costly marble dressed, - In the great minster transept, - Where lights like glories fall, - And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings - Along the emblazoned wall. - - This was the bravest warrior - That ever buckled sword; - This the most gifted poet - That ever breathed a word; - And never earth’s philosopher - Traced, with his golden pen, - On the deathless page, truths half so sage, - As he wrote down for men. - - And had he not high honor,-- - The hill-side for his pall; - To lie in state, while angels wait, - With stars for tapers tall; - And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, - Over his bier to wave; - And God’s own hand, in that lonely land, - To lay him in the grave;-- - - In that strange grave, without a name, - Whence his uncoffined clay - Shall break again--O wondrous thought!-- - Before the Judgment-day, - And stand with glory wrapped around - On the hills he never trod, - And speak of the strife that won our life, - With the Incarnate Son of God? - - O lonely grave in Moab’s land! - O dark Beth-peor’s hill! - Speak to these curious hearts of ours, - And teach them to be still. - God hath His mysteries of grace,-- - Ways that we cannot tell; - He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep, - Of him He loved so well! - - - - -LXXXVI.--THE GOLDEN TOUCH. - -NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. - - -_SECOND READING._ - -Whether Midas slept as usual that night, the story does not say. But -when the earliest sunbeam shone through the window, and gilded the -ceiling over his head, it seemed to him that this bright yellow sunbeam -was reflected in rather a singular way on the white covering of the -bed. Looking more closely, what was his astonishment and delight, when -he found that this linen fabric had been transmuted to what seemed a -woven texture of the purest and brightest gold! The Golden Touch had -come to him with the first sunbeam! - -Midas started up, in a kind of joyful frenzy, and ran about the room, -grasping at every thing that happened to be in his way. He seized one -of the bedposts, and it became immediately a fluted golden pillar. -He pulled aside a window-curtain in order to admit a clear spectacle -of the wonders which he was performing, and the tassel grew heavy in -his hand,--a mass of gold. He took up a book from the table; at his -first touch, it assumed the appearance of such a splendidly bound and -gilt-edged volume as one often meets with now-a-days; but on running -his fingers through the leaves, behold! it was a bundle of thin golden -plates, in which all the wisdom of the book had grown illegible. - -He hurriedly put on his clothes, and was enraptured to see himself -in a magnificent suit of gold cloth, which retained its flexibility -and softness, although it burdened him a little with its weight. He -drew out his handkerchief, which little Marygold had hemmed for him; -that was likewise gold, with the dear child’s neat and pretty stitches -running all along the border, in gold thread! - -Somehow or other, this last transformation did not quite please King -Midas. He would rather that his little daughter’s handiwork should have -remained just the same as when she climbed his knee and put it into his -hand. - -But it was not worth while to vex himself about a trifle. Midas took -his spectacles from his pocket, and put them on his nose, in order -that he might see more distinctly what he was about. In those days, -spectacles for common people had not been invented, but were already -worn by kings; else, how could Midas have had any? To his great -perplexity, however, excellent as the glasses were, he discovered that -he could not possibly see through them. But this was the most natural -thing in the world; for, on taking them off, the transparent crystals -turned out to be plates of yellow metal, and, of course, were worthless -as spectacles, though valuable as gold. It struck Midas as rather -inconvenient, that, with all his wealth, he could never again be rich -enough to own a pair of serviceable spectacles. - -“It is no great matter, nevertheless,” said he to himself, Very -philosophically. “We can not expect any great good, without its being -accompanied with some small inconvenience. The Golden Touch is worth -the sacrifice of a pair of spectacles at least, if not of one’s very -eyesight. My own eyes will serve for ordinary purposes, and little -Marygold will soon be old enough to read to me.” Wise King Midas was so -exalted by his good fortune, that the palace seemed not sufficiently -spacious to contain him. He therefore went down stairs, and smiled -on observing that the balustrade of the staircase became a bar of -burnished gold, as his hand passed over it, in his descent. He lifted -the door-latch (it was brass only a moment ago, but golden when his -fingers quitted it), and emerged into the garden. Here, as it happened, -he found a great number of beautiful roses in full bloom, and others -in all the stages of lovely bud and blossom. Very delicious was their -fragrance in the morning breeze. Their delicate blush was one of the -fairest sights in the world; so gentle, so modest, and so full of sweet -soothing, did these roses seem to be. - -But Midas knew a way to make them far more precious, according to his -way of thinking, than roses had ever been before. So he took great -pains in going from bush to bush, and exercised his magic touch most -untiringly; until every individual flower and bud, and even the worms -at the heart of some of them, were changed to gold. By the time this -good work was completed, King Midas was summoned to breakfast; and as -the morning air had given him an excellent appetite, he made haste back -to the palace. - -What was usually a king’s breakfast in the days of Midas, I really -do not know, and can not stop now to investigate. To the best of my -knowledge, however, on this particular morning, the breakfast consisted -of hot cakes, some nice little brook trout, roasted potatoes, fresh -boiled eggs, and coffee for King Midas himself, and a bowl of bread and -milk for his daughter Marygold. - -Little Marygold had not yet made her appearance. Her father ordered her -to be called, and seating himself at table, awaited the child’s coming, -in order to begin his own breakfast. To do Midas justice, he really -loved his daughter, and loved her so much the more this morning, on -account of the good fortune which had befallen him. It was not a great -while before he heard her coming along the passage, crying bitterly. -This circumstance surprised him, because Marygold was one of the most -cheerful little people whom you would see in a summer’s day, and hardly -shed a tear in a twelvemonth. - -When Midas heard her sobs, he determined to put little Marygold into -better spirits by an agreeable surprise; so, leaning across the table, -he touched his daughter’s bowl (which was a china one, with pretty -figures all around it), and changed it into gleaming gold. - -Meanwhile, Marygold slowly and sadly opened the door, and showed -herself with her apron at her eyes, still sobbing as if her heart would -break. - -“How now, my little lady!” cried Midas. “Pray, what is the matter with -you, this bright morning?” - -Marygold, without taking the apron from her eyes, held out her hand, -in which was one of the roses which Midas had so recently changed into -gold. - -“Beautiful!” exclaimed her father. “And what is there in this -magnificent golden rose to make you cry?” - -“Ah, dear father!” answered the child, between her sobs, “it is not -beautiful, but the ugliest flower that ever grew! As soon as I was -dressed, I ran into the garden to gather some roses for you; because -I know you like them, and like them the better when gathered by your -little daughter. But oh, dear, dear me! What do you think has happened? -Such a sad thing! All the beautiful roses, that smelled so sweetly, and -had so many lovely blushes, are blighted and spoilt! They are grown -quite yellowy as you see this one, and have no longer any fragrance! -What can have been the matter with them?” - -“Pooh, my dear little girl,--pray don’t cry about it!” said Midas, who -was ashamed to confess that he himself had wrought the change which so -greatly afflicted her. “Sit down, and eat your bread and milk. You will -find it easy enough to exchange a golden rose like that (which will -last hundreds of years), for an ordinary one which would wither in a -day.” - -“I don’t care for such roses as this!” cried Marygold, tossing it -contemptuously away. “It has no smell, and the hard petals prick my -nose!” - -The child now sat down to table, but was so occupied with her grief for -the blighted roses that she did not even notice the wonderful change -in her china bowl. Perhaps this was all the better; for Marygold was -accustomed to take pleasure in looking at the queer figures and strange -trees and houses that were painted on the outside of the bowl; and -those ornaments were now entirely lost in the yellow hue of the metal. - -Midas, meanwhile, had poured out a cup of coffee; and, as a matter of -course, the coffee-pot, whatever metal it may have been when he took -it up, was gold when he set it down. He thought to himself that it -was rather an extravagant style of splendor, in a king of his simple -habits, to breakfast off a service of gold, and began to be puzzled -with the difficulty of keeping his treasures safe. The cupboard and the -kitchen would no longer be a secure place of deposit for articles so -valuable as golden bowls and golden coffee-pots. - -Amid these thoughts, he lifted a spoonful of coffee to his lips, and, -sipping it, was astonished to perceive that, the instant his lips -touched the liquid, it became molten gold, and, the next moment, -hardened into a lump! - -“Ha!” exclaimed Midas, rather aghast. - -“What is the matter, father?” asked little Marygold, gazing at him, -with the tears still standing in her eyes. - -“Nothing, child, nothing!” said Midas. “Take your milk before it gets -quite cold.” - -He took one of the nice little trouts on his plate, and touched its -tail with his finger. To his horror, it was immediately changed from -a brook-trout into a gold fish, and looked as if it had been very -cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the world. Its little bones -were now golden wires; its fins and tail were thin plates of gold; and -there were the marks of the fork in it, and all the delicate, frothy -appearance of a nicely fried fish, exactly imitated in metal. - -“I don’t quite see,” thought he to himself, “how I am to get any -breakfast!” - -He took one of the smoking-hot cakes, and had scarcely broken it, when, -to his cruel mortification, though a moment before, it had been of the -whitest wheat, it assumed the yellow hue of Indian meal. Its solidity -and increased weight made him too bitterly sensible that it was gold. -Almost in despair, he helped himself to a boiled egg, which immediately -underwent a change similar to that of the trout and the cake. - -“Well, this is terrible!” thought he, leaning back in his chair, and -looking quite enviously at little Marygold, who was now eating her -bread and milk with great satisfaction. “Such a costly breakfast before -me, and nothing that can be eaten!” - -Hoping that, by dint of great dispatch, he might avoid what he now -felt to be a considerable inconvenience, King Midas next snatched a -hot potato, and attempted to cram it into his mouth, and swallow it -in a hurry. But the Golden Touch was too nimble for him. He found his -mouth full, not of mealy potato, but of solid metal, which so burnt his -tongue that he roared aloud, and, jumping up from the table, began to -dance and stamp about the room, both with pain and affright. - -“Father, dear father!” cried little Marygold, who was a very -affectionate child, “pray what is the matter? Have you burnt your -mouth?” - -“Ah, dear child,” groaned Midas, dolefully, “I don’t know what is to -become of your poor father!” - - * * * * * - - _Oh, many a shaft at random sent,_ - _Finds mark, the archer little meant!_ - _And many a word at random spoken,_ - _May soothe, or wound, a heart that’s broken._ - - --_Sir Walter Scott._ - - - - -LXXXVII.--THE MAY QUEEN. - -TENNYSON. - - -_FIRST READING._ - -[Illustration] - - You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; - To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; - Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest, merriest day; - For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - There’s many a black black eye, they say, but none so bright as mine; - There’s Margaret and Mary, there’s Kate and Caroline: - But none so fair as little Alice in all the land they say, - So I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake, - If you do not call me loud when the day begins to break: - But I must gather knots of flowers, and buds and garlands gay, - For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - As I came up the valley whom think ye should I see, - But Robin leaning on the bridge beneath the hazel-tree? - He thought of that sharp look, mother, I gave him yesterday,-- - But I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - He thought I was a ghost, mother, for I was all in white, - And I ran by him without speaking, like a flash of light. - They call me cruel-hearted, but I care not what they say, - For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - They say he’s dying all for love, but that can never be: - They say his heart is breaking, mother--what is that to me? - There’s many a bolder lad ’ill woo me any summer day, - And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - Little Effie shall go with me to-morrow to the green, - And you’ll be there, too, mother, to see me made the Queen: - For the shepherd lads on every side ’ill come from far away, - And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - The honeysuckle round the porch has wov’n its wavy bowers, - And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers; - And the wild marsh-marigold shines like fire in swamps and hollows - gray, - And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - The night-winds come and go, mother, upon the meadow-grass, - And the happy stars above them seem to brighten as they pass; - There will not be a drop of rain the whole of the livelong day, - And I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - All the valley, mother, ’ill be fresh and green and still, - And the cowslip and the crowfoot are over all the hill, - And the rivulet in the flowery dale ’ill merrily glance and play, - For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear, - To-morrow ’ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year: - To-morrow ’ill be of all the year the maddest, merriest day, - For I’m to be Queen o’ the May, mother, I’m to be Queen o’ the May. - - - - -LXXXVIII.--THE FLOWER. - - -Why comes the flower upon the plant? That fruit may come. And why the -fruit? That it may hold, protect, and cherish the seed. And why the -seed? That the plant may have offspring--that other plants may grow -up and be as near like itself as one living thing can well be like -another. - -The flower is the beginning of the seed, the first step toward -reproduction, and the fruit is the flower completed. If it does throw -aside its floral ornaments,--its petals or other adorning or useful -parts of its blooming period,--it still retains the maturing seed and -ends in the ripened fruit. - -Look inside of almost any flower and you will see embosomed in its -petals the thread-like organs called stamens with little yellow knobs -at their ends. Shake them; if they are ripe, they will give up the fine -dust or pollen, so light that the breeze will blow it away. - -Some flowers have few stamens, some have many, and of the latter the -apple and cherry blossoms afford examples. Most of the different -grasses have three stamens to each of their little flowers. For -example, a head of timothy-grass has a long thick bunch of flowers, -crowded together at the top of the slender stem. Early in the summer, -about June, you may see the little stamens peeping out all around, -three of them together, and their little golden knobs dangling in the -breeze. Some plants have only two stamens on a flower, and there is -a water plant, called the mare’s-tail, with only one stamen. A few -flowers, indeed, are wholly destitute of this organ. - -Besides the stamens, there are also in most flowers, other threads, -stems, or knobs, somewhat like the stamens, but generally of a -different color. These pistils, as they are called, have their place in -the centre of the flower, whilst the stamens stand around them. Unlike -the stamens, the pistils have no pollen; but it is on the latter that -the pollen must fall, in order that the plant may bear seed. It is in -the bottom of the pistils, that the seeds grow, but there will be no -seed, unless the dust or pollen from the stamens, falls on the pistils. - -Most plants bear flowers that have both stamens and pistils. Such -flowers are called _perfect_ flowers. But there are also plants that -have two kinds of flowers, in some of which are stamens only, and -in the others pistils only. Again, there are plants, some of which -have flowers with stamens only, and others of which have flowers with -pistils only. The willow-trees are such plants. - -Of the five senses, flowers address themselves most feelingly to two. -In delighting the sense of smell they stand pre-eminent--almost alone. -Does true fragrance ever come from anything but a plant? and are not -flowers especially the generous dispensers of grateful odors? And to -the eye what wealth of beauty do they unfold! - -We need think of no more than the lily, the pink, and the rose. Was -_anything_ ever arrayed like one of these? When we look upon them they -fill the heart with joy. We smell of them, and exclaim that their -fragrance exceeds even their beauty. Again we look upon them, and now -we aver that their beauty surpasses their perfume. - - -_Word Exercise._ - - pĕt´als - slĕn´der - cher´ish - dangling (_dang´gling_) - pŏl´len - re-tains´ - ar-rayed´ - pĭs´tils - stā´mens - blos´soms - ma-tūr´ing - per´fume - ad-drĕss´ - a-dorn´ing - frā´grance - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Floral ornaments.--2. Blooming period.--3. Afford - examples.--4. Golden knobs.--5. Wholly destitute.--6. _Perfect_ - flowers.--7. They stand pre-eminent.--8. True fragrance.--9. - Generous dispensers.--10. Grateful odors. - - - - -LXXXIX.--THE MAY QUEEN.--NEW YEAR’S EVE. - -TENNYSON. - - -_SECOND READING._ - - If you’re waking, call me early, call me early, mother dear, - For I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year. - It is the last New-year that I shall ever see, - Then you may lay me low i’ the mould and think no more of me. - - To-night I saw the sun set: he set and left behind - The good old year, the dear old time, and all my peace of mind; - And the New-year’s coming up, mother, but I shall never see - The blossom on the blackthorn, the leaf upon the tree. - - Last May we made a crown of flowers: we had a merry day; - Beneath the hawthorn on the green they made me Queen of May; - And we danced about the May-pole and in the hazel copse, - Till Charles’s Wain came out above the tall white chimney-tops. - - There’s not a flower on all the hills: the frost is on the pane: - I only wish to live till the snow-drops come again: - I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high: - I long to see a flower so before the day I die. - - The building rook ’ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree, - And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, - And the swallow ’ill come back again with summer o’er the wave, - But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave. - - Upon the chancel-casement, and upon that grave of mine, - In the early early morning the summer sun ’ill shine, - Before the red cock crows from the farm upon the hill, - When you are warm asleep, mother, and all the world is still. - - When the flowers come again, mother, beneath the waning light - You’ll never see me more in the long gray fields at night; - When from the dry dark wold the summer airs blow cool - On the oat-grass and the sword-grass, and the bulrush in the pool. - - You’ll bury me, my mother, just beneath the hawthorn shade, - And you’ll come sometimes and see me where I am lowly laid. - I shall not forget you, mother, I shall hear you when you pass, - With your feet above my head in the long and pleasant grass. - - I have been wild and wayward, but you’ll forgive me now; - You’ll kiss me, my own mother, and forgive me ere I go; - Nay, nay, you must not weep, nor let your grief be wild, - You should not fret for me, mother, you have another child. - - If I can I’ll come again, mother, from out my resting-place; - Tho’ you’ll not see me, mother, I shall look upon your face; - Tho’ I cannot speak a word, I shall hearken what you say, - And be often, often with you when you think I’m far away. - - Good-night, good-night, when I have said good-night forevermore, - And you see me carried out from the threshold of the door, - Don’t let Effie come to see me till my grave be growing green: - She’ll be a better child to you than ever I have been. - - She’ll find my garden-tools upon the granary floor: - Let her take ’em: they are hers: I shall never garden more: - But tell her, when I’m gone, to train the rose-bush that I set - About the parlor-window and the box of mignonette. - - Good-night, sweet mother: call me before the day is born. - All night I lie awake, but I fall asleep at morn; - But I would see the sun rise upon the glad New-year, - So, if you’re waking, call me, call me early, mother dear. - - - - -XC.--THE FRUIT. - -GUSTAVUS FRANKENSTEIN. - - -It is not alone the delicious grape, the grateful apple, the luscious -pear, the clustered cherries, the tart currants, the golden orange, -the sweet blackberries, the refreshing melon, the blooming peach, the -purple plum, the sun-fed strawberries, or whatever other products of -the plants we may deem good to eat, that are entitled to the name of -fruit. The very mention, the very thought of fruit, brings to our minds -an ever-welcome idea of something not only wholesome and pleasing to -the taste, but at the same time beautiful; for all fertile flowers, on -whatever plant they may grow, merge eventually into fruit. That fruit -may not be edible; it may be bitter, it may be sour, it may be as dry -as a chip, or it may even be poisonous,--still it is fruit. It is fruit -to the plant, if not to us. - -The seed, we may say, is the infant offspring of the plant, by means of -which, in the course of nature, it perpetuates its kind. The flower is -the first step in the formation of the fruit. The plant opens to the -sunshine a charming expression of form and color in the budding flower. -Nursing in its bosom the growing germ, the flower usually sheds its gay -attire, throws off its petals, its ribbons, and its tassels, and in a -sober, motherly way devotes itself to the one great task of cherishing, -perfecting, and guarding the seed. - -In fact, the flower, which at first seemed but a transport of joy, -now shorn of its bridal ornaments, has become the substantial fruit. -That fruit is the guardian of the seed, within which sleeps the infant -plant; and according to the needs of that seed will the fruit be -fashioned. Are the seeds to be carried far and wide?--ten to one the -fruit is furnished with a plume, a sail, or a wing, by which to be -wafted through the air, or with hooks to cling to passing animals, or -with some other contrivance to effect conveyance. - -Or, if the seed inside be provided with a sail, the fruit will open and -let the little seed go forth and seek its fortune by itself. Endless -are the expedients by which the seed and the fruit seek to perpetuate -the kind of plant from which they spring. - -We may look at the well-known fruit-head of the dandelion, which is the -prettiest little airy-like silken ball that can be imagined. Doubtless, -it has not occurred to everybody, what this beautiful sphere, so common -in the meadows and by the road-sides, really is. Previous to this -sphere, and in the place of it, was the flower, the well-known yellow -dandelion, which belongs to the composite family. - -[Illustration: DANDELION HEAD.] - -The dandelion is not really _one_ flower, but a circled group of many -small flowers or florets. These are surrounded by an outer circle of -green leaflets, which bend down when the florets have changed into -fruits, allowing them to radiate in every direction from the core in -the centre. The whole ball is made up of many small fruits, each of -which is a single seed enclosed in a thin cover, surmounted by an -elevated circled plume. - -Blow on this lovely little sphere, and away will fly the little -tufted fruits, some one way and some another. If there is any breeze -stirring, there is no knowing how far they will go. It is not strange, -then, that dandelions spring up almost everywhere. See what a vast -number of fruits must go sailing about, all over the country, on a dry -midsummer’s day. It is true, not half of them grow up into plants to -make more dandelions, but a great many of them do. - -In the same way, the beautiful asters of our woods, with their flowers -of yellow or purplish disks, and lovely rays of white or purple, as -large as roses, let their little fruits fly away from their heads as -soon as ripe and dry. - -There are about as many different kinds of fruits as there are of -flowers. The plants of the bean family, for instance, have fruits like -the bean pods. These pods, when ripe and dry, split open at the two -edges, and then the beans or seeds drop out. Do you know the pods of -the honey-locust trees,--large, broad, thin, and sweet? Clover too -belongs to the bean family. You can find the tiny pods in the dry heads -of clover, if you will pick out the little withered flowers and open -them. - -Some fruits have a kind of wings. Such are the fruits of our beautiful -maple tree; and very pretty are these maple keys, as they are called, -when they hang in clusters from the branches, and dangle among the -leaves. At the end, where they are joined, there is in each key a -thick, hard, round swelling, in which is the seed. When the fruit -is ripe and dry it falls off, and we may often see the pair of keys -flying away together. As they are light, they go whirling in the wind, -sometimes to a great distance. The fruit of the ash-tree looks like -that of the maple, and also hangs in bunches; but each fruit is a -single key. - -These are but a few of the many kinds of fruits to be found on plants, -each in itself a curiosity and a beauty; and how much we fairly owe -to them is scarcely ever in our thoughts. If we consider but wheat -alone, how valuable to us is its little fruit, the simple grain; to say -nothing of the fruits of other grasses, such as rice, rye, oats, and -the large and generous ears of Indian-corn. - -Nor must the cotton-plant be forgotten, whose fruit does not indeed -feed, but clothes our bodies, enters into countless uses in every -household, is indispensable on every craft that sails the sea, and -inseparable from so many industries on land and water. The fruit of -the cotton-plant is a pod, which, bursting open, reveals a mass of -white woolly fibres, enveloping and clinging to the seeds. This is the -beautiful and useful cotton. - - -_Phrase Exercise._ - - 1. Merge eventually.--2. Perpetuates its kind.--3. Charming - expression.--4. Usually sheds its gay attire.--5. Shorn of its - bridal ornaments.--6. Contrivance to effect conveyance.--7. - Surrounded by an elevated circled plume.--8. _Indispensable_ on - every _craft_.--9. _Inseparable_ from so many _industries_. - - - - -XCI.--THE MAY QUEEN.--CONCLUSION. - -TENNYSON. - - -_THIRD READING._ - -[Illustration] - - I thought to pass away before, and yet alive I am; - And in the fields all round I hear the bleating of the lamb. - How sadly, I remember, rose the morning of the year! - To die before the snowdrop came, and now the violet’s here. - - O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies, - And sweeter is the young lamb’s voice to me that cannot rise, - And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, - And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go. - - It seemed so hard at first, mother, to leave the blessed sun, - And now it seems as hard to stay, and yet His will be done! - But still I think it can’t be long before I find release; - And that good man, the clergyman, has told me words of peace. - - O blessings on his kindly voice and on his silver hair! - And blessings on his whole life long, until he meet me there! - O blessings on his kindly heart and on his silver head! - A thousand times I blessed him, as he knelt beside my bed. - - He taught me all the mercy, for he showed me all the sin. - Now, tho’ my lamp was lighted late, there’s One will let me in: - Nor would I now be well, mother, again, if that could be, - For my desire is but to pass to Him that died for me. - - I did not hear the dog howl, mother, or the death-watch beat, - There came a sweeter token when the night and morning meet: - But sit beside my bed, mother, and put your hand in mine, - And Effie on the other side, and I will tell the sign. - - All in the wild March morning I heard the angels call; - It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all; - The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, - And in the wild March morning I heard them call my soul. - - For lying broad awake I thought of you and Effie dear; - I saw you sitting in the house, and I no longer here; - With all my strength I prayed for both, and so I felt resigned, - And up the valley came a swell of music on the wind. - - I thought that it was fancy, and I listened in my bed, - And then did something speak to me--I know not what was said; - For great delight and shuddering took hold of all my mind, - And up the valley came again the music on the wind. - - But you were sleeping; and I said, “It’s not for them: it’s mine.” - And if it comes three times, I thought, I take it for a sign. - And once again it came, and close beside the window-bars, - Then seemed to go right up to Heaven and die among the stars. - - So now I think my time is near. I trust it is. I know - The blessed music went that way my soul will have to go. - And for myself, indeed, I care not if I go to-day. - But Effie, you must comfort _her_ when I am past away. - - And say to Robin a kind word, and tell him not to fret; - There’s many worthier than I, would make him happy yet. - If I had lived--I cannot tell--I might have been his wife; - But all these things have ceased to be, with my desire of life. - - O look! the sun begins to rise, the heavens are in a glow; - He shines upon a hundred fields, and all of them I know. - And there I move no longer now, and there his light may shine-- - Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine. - - O sweet and strange it seems to me, that ere this day is done - The voice, that now is speaking, may be beyond the sun-- - For ever and for ever with those just souls and true-- - And what is life, that we should moan? why make we such ado? - - For ever and forever, all in a blessed home-- - And there to wait a little while till you and Effie come-- - To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your breast-- - And the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. - - - - -XCII.--THE GOLDEN TOUCH. - -NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. - - -_THIRD READING._ - -And, truly, did you ever hear of such a pitiable case, in all your -lives? Here was literally the richest breakfast that could be set -before a king, and its very richness made it absolutely good for -nothing. The poorest laborer, sitting down to his crust of bread and -cup of water, was far better off than King Midas, whose delicate food -was really worth its weight in gold. - -And what was to be done? Already, at breakfast, Midas was excessively -hungry. Would he be less so by dinner-time? And how ravenous would be -his appetite for supper, which must undoubtedly consist of the same -sort of indigestible dishes as those now before him! How many days, -think you, would he survive a continuance of this rich fare? - -These reflections so troubled wise King Midas, that he began to doubt -whether, after all, riches are the one desirable thing in the world, -or even the most desirable. But this was only a passing thought. So -fascinated was Midas with the glitter of the yellow metal, that he -would still have refused to give up the Golden Touch for so paltry a -consideration as a breakfast. Just imagine what a price for one meal’s -victuals! It would have been the same as paying millions and millions -of money for some fried trout, an egg, a potato, a hot cake, and a cup -of coffee! - -“It would be much too dear,” thought Midas. - -Nevertheless, so great was his hunger, and the perplexity of his -situation, that he again groaned aloud, and very grievously too. Our -pretty Marygold could endure it no longer. She sat a moment gazing at -her father, and trying, with all the might of her little wits, to find -out what was the matter with him. Then, with a sweet and sorrowful -impulse to comfort him, she started from her chair, and, running to -Midas, threw her arms affectionately about his knees. He bent down -and kissed her. He felt that his little daughter’s love was worth a -thousand times more than he had gained by the Golden Touch. - -“My precious, precious Marygold!” cried he. - -But Marygold made no answer. - -Alas, what had he done? How fatal was the gift which the stranger had -bestowed! The moment the lips of Midas touched Marygold’s forehead, a -change had taken place. Her sweet, rosy face, so full of affection as -it had been, assumed a glittering yellow color, with yellow tear-drops -congealing on her cheeks. Her beautiful brown ringlets took the same -tint. Her soft and tender little form grew hard and inflexible within -her father’s encircling arms. O terrible misfortune! The victim of his -insatiable desire for wealth, little Marygold was a human child no -longer, but a golden statue! - -Yes, there she was, with the questioning look of love, grief, and pity, -hardened into her face. It was the prettiest and most woful sight that -ever mortal saw. All the features and tokens of Marygold were there; -even the beloved little dimple remained in her golden chin. But, the -more perfect was the resemblance, the greater was the father’s agony -at beholding this golden image, which was all that was left him of a -daughter. - -It had been a favorite phrase of Midas, whenever he felt particularly -fond of the child, to say that she was worth her weight in gold. And -now the phrase had become literally true. And, now, at last, when it -was too late, he felt how infinitely a warm and tender heart, that -loved him, exceeded in value all the wealth that could be piled up -betwixt the earth and sky! - -It would be too sad a story, if I were to tell you how Midas, in the -fulness of all his gratified desires, began to wring his hands and -bemoan himself; and how he could neither bear to look at Marygold, -nor yet to look away from her. Except when his eyes were fixed on the -image, he could not possibly believe that she was changed to gold. But, -stealing another glance, there was the precious little figure, with a -yellow tear-drop on its yellow cheek, and a look so piteous and tender, -that it seemed as if that very expression must needs soften the gold, -and make it flesh again. This, however, could not be. So Midas had only -to wring his hands, and to wish that he were the poorest man in the -wide world, if the loss of all his wealth might bring back the faintest -rose-color to his dear child’s face. - -While he was in this tumult of despair, he suddenly beheld a stranger, -standing near the door. Midas bent down his head, without speaking; for -he recognized the same figure which had appeared to him the day before -in the treasure-room, and had bestowed on him this disastrous power -of the Golden Touch. The stranger’s countenance still wore a smile, -which seemed to shed a yellow lustre all about the room, and gleamed -on little Marygold’s image, and on the other objects that had been -transmuted by the touch of Midas. - -“Well, friend Midas,” said the stranger, “pray, how do you succeed with -the Golden Touch?” - -Midas shook his head. - -“I am very miserable,” said he. - -“Very miserable! indeed!” exclaimed the stranger, “and how happens -that? Have I not faithfully kept my promise with you? Have you not -every thing that your heart desired?” - -“Gold is not every thing,” answered Midas. “And I have lost all that my -heart really cared for.” - -“Ah! So you have made a discovery, since yesterday?” observed the -stranger. “Let us see, then. Which of these two things do you think is -really worth the most,--the gift of the Golden Touch, or one cup of -clear cold water?” - -“O blessed water!” exclaimed Midas. “It will never moisten my parched -throat again!” - -“The Golden Touch,” continued the stranger, “or a crust of bread?” - -“A piece of bread,” answered Midas, “is worth all the gold on earth!” - -“The Golden Touch,” asked the stranger, “or your own little Marygold, -warm, soft, and loving, as she was an hour ago?” - -“O my child, my dear child!” cried poor King Midas, wringing his -hands. “I would not have given that one small dimple in her chin for -the power of changing this whole big earth into a solid lump of gold!” - -“You are wiser than you were, King Midas!” said the stranger, looking -seriously at him. “Your own heart, I perceive, has not been entirely -changed from flesh to gold. Were it so, your case would indeed be -desperate. But you appear to be still capable of understanding that -the commonest things, such as lie within everybody’s grasp, are more -valuable than the riches which so many mortals sigh and struggle after. -Tell me, now, do you sincerely desire to rid yourself of this Golden -Touch?” - -“It is hateful to me!” replied Midas. - -A fly settled on his nose, but immediately fell to the floor; for it, -too, had become gold. Midas shuddered. - -“Go, then,” said the stranger, “and plunge into the river that glides -past the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a vase of the same -water, and sprinkle it over any object that you may desire to change -back again from gold into its former substance. If you do this in -earnestness and sincerity, it may possibly repair the mischief which -your avarice has occasioned.” - -King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head, the lustrous -stranger had vanished. - -You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching up a -great earthen pitcher (but, alas me! it was no longer earthen after -he touched it), and in hastening to the river-side. As he ran along, -and forced his way through the shrubbery, it was positively marvellous -to see how the foliage turned yellow behind him, as if the autumn had -been there, and nowhere else. On reaching the river’s brink, he plunged -headlong in, without waiting so much as to pull off his shoes. - -“Poof! poof! poof!” gasped King Midas, as his head emerged out of -the water. “Well; this is really a refreshing bath, and I think it -must have quite washed away the Golden Touch. And now for filling my -pitcher!” - -As he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened his very heart -to see it change from gold into the same good, honest, earthen vessel -which it had been before he touched it. He was conscious, also, of a -change within himself. A cold, hard, and heavy weight seemed to have -gone out of his bosom. No doubt his heart had been gradually losing its -human substance, and been changing into insensible metal, but had now -been softened back again into flesh. Perceiving a violet, that grew -on the bank of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and was -overjoyed to find that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, -instead of undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of the Golden Touch -had, therefore, really been removed from him. - -King Midas hastened back to the palace; and, I suppose, the servants -knew not what to make of it when they saw their royal master so -carefully bringing home an earthen pitcher of water. But that water, -which was to undo all the mischief that his folly had wrought, was more -precious to Midas than an ocean of molten gold could have been. The -first thing he did, as you need hardly be told, was to sprinkle it by -handfuls over the golden figure of little Marygold. - -No sooner did it fall on her than you would have laughed to see how the -rosy color came back to the dear child’s cheek!--and how astonished she -was to find herself dripping wet, and her father still throwing more -water over her! - -“Pray do not, dear father!” cried she. “See how you have wet my nice -frock, which I put on only this morning!” - -[Illustration] - -For Marygold did not know that she had been a little golden statue; nor -could she remember any thing that had happened since the moment when -she ran with outstretched arms to comfort poor King Midas. - -Her father did not think it necessary to tell his beloved child how -very foolish he had been, but contented himself with showing how much -wiser he had now grown. For this purpose, he led little Marygold into -the garden, where he sprinkled all the remainder of the water over the -rose-bushes, and with such good effect that above five thousand roses -recovered their beautiful bloom. There were two circumstances, however, -which, as long as he lived, used to remind King Midas of the Golden -Touch. One was, that the sands of the river in which he had bathed, -sparkled like gold; the other, that little Marygold’s hair had now a -golden tinge, which he had never observed in it before she had been -changed by the effect of his kiss. This change of hue was really an -improvement, and made Marygold’s hair richer than in her babyhood. - -When King Midas had grown quite an old man, and used to take Marygold’s -children on his knee, he was fond of telling them this marvellous -story, pretty much as I have told it to you. And then would he stroke -their glossy ringlets, and tell them that their hair, likewise, had a -rich shade of gold, which they had inherited from their mother. - -“And, to tell you the truth, my precious little folks,” said King -Midas, “ever since that morning, I have hated the very sight of all -other gold, save this!” - - * * * * * - - _Life! we’ve been long together_ - _Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;_ - _’Tis hard to part when friends are dear,--_ - _Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;_ - _Then steal away, give little warning,_ - _Choose thine own time;_ - _Say not Good Night, but in some brighter clime_ - _Bid me Good Morning._ - - --_Anna Letitia Barbauld._ - - - - -XCIII.--JOHN GILPIN. - -_Showing how he went farther than he intended, and came safe home -again._ - -WILLIAM COWPER. - - -[Illustration] - - John Gilpin was a citizen - Of credit and renown, - A train-band captain eke was he - Of famous London town. - - John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear, - “Though wedded we have been - These thrice ten tedious years, yet we - No holiday have seen. - - “To-morrow is our wedding day, - And we will then repair - Unto the Bell at Edmonton, - All in a chaise and pair. - - “My sister and my sister’s child, - Myself and children three, - Will fill the chaise; so you must ride - On horseback after we.” - - He soon replied, “I do admire - Of womankind but one; - And you are she, my dearest dear, - Therefore it shall be done. - - “I am a linen-draper bold, - As all the world doth know, - And my good friend the calender - Will lend his horse to go.” - - Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, “That’s well said; - And for that wine is dear. - We will be furnished with our own, - Which is both bright and clear.” - - John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; - O’erjoyed was he to find, - That though on pleasure she was bent, - She had a frugal mind. - - The morning came, the chaise was brought, - But yet was not allowed - To drive up to the door, lest all - Should say that she was proud. - - So three doors off the chaise was stayed, - Where they did all get in,-- - Six precious souls, and all agog - To dash through thick and thin. - - Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, - Were never folks so glad! - The stones did rattle underneath, - As if Cheapside were mad. - - John Gilpin at his horse’s side, - Seized fast the flowing mane, - And up he got, in haste to ride, - But soon came down again:-- - - For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, - His journey to begin, - When, turning round his head, he saw - Three customers come in. - - So down he came; for loss of time, - Although it grieved him sore, - Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, - Would trouble him much more. - - ’Twas long before the customers - Were suited to their mind, - When Betty, screaming, came down stairs, - “The wine is left behind!” - - “Good-lack!” quoth he, “yet bring it me, - My leathern belt likewise, - In which I bear my trusty sword, - When I do exercise.” - - Now, Mrs. Gilpin (careful soul!) - Had two stone bottles found, - To hold the liquor that she loved, - And keep it safe and sound. - - Each bottle had a curling ear, - Through which the belt he drew, - And hung a bottle on each side, - To make his balance true. - - Then over all, that he might be - Equipped from top to toe, - His long red cloak, well-brushed and neat, - He manfully did throw. - - Now see him mounted once again - Upon his nimble steed, - Full slowly pacing o’er the stones, - With caution and good heed. - - But finding soon a smoother road - Beneath his well-shod feet, - The snorting beast began to trot, - Which galled him in his seat. - - So,“Fair and softly!” John he cried, - But John he cried in vain; - That trot became a gallop soon, - In spite of curb and rein. - - So, stooping down, as needs he must - Who cannot sit upright, - He grasped the mane with both his hands, - And eke with all his might. - - His horse, who never in that sort - Had handled been before, - What thing upon his back had got - Did wonder more and more. - - Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; - Away went hat and wig; - He little dreamt, when he set out, - Of running such a rig. - - The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, - Like streamer long and gay - Till, loop and button failing both, - At last it flew away. - - Then might all people well discern - The bottles he had slung,-- - A bottle swinging at each side, - As hath been said or sung. - - The dogs did bark, the children screamed, - Up flew the windows all; - And every soul cried out, “Well done!” - As loud as he could bawl. - - Away went Gilpin--who but he? - His fame soon spread around: - “He carries weight! he rides a race! - ’Tis for a thousand pound!” - - And still, as fast as he drew near, - ’Twas wonderful to view, - How in a trice the turnpike-men - Their gates wide open threw. - - And now, as he went bowing down - His reeking head full low, - The bottles twain behind his back - Were shattered at a blow. - - Down ran the wine into the road, - Most piteous to be seen, - Which made his horse’s flanks to smoke - As they had basted been. - - But still he seemed to carry weight, - With leathern girdle braced; - For all might see the bottle-necks - Still dangling at his waist. - - Thus all through merry Islington - These gambols did he play, - Until he came unto the Wash - Of Edmonton so gay; - - And there he threw the Wash about - On both sides of the way, - Just like unto a trundling mop, - Or a wild goose at play. - - At Edmonton, his loving wife - From the balcony espied - Her tender husband, wondering much - To see how he did ride. - - “Stop, stop, John Gilpin:--Here’s the house!” - They all at once did cry; - “The dinner waits, and we are tired.” - Said Gilpin,--“So am I!” - - But yet his horse was not a whit - Inclined to tarry there! - For why?--his owner had a house - Full ten miles off, at Ware. - - So like an arrow swift he flew, - Shot by an archer strong; - So did he fly--which brings me to - The middle of my song. - - Away went Gilpin, out of breath, - And sore against his will, - Till at his friend the calender’s - His horse at last stood still. - - The calender, amazed to see - His neighbor in such trim, - Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, - And thus accosted him: - - “What news? what news? your tidings tell; - Tell me you must and shall; - Say, why bareheaded you are come, - Or why you come at all!” - - Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, - And loved a timely joke; - And thus unto the calender - In merry guise he spoke: - - “I came because your horse would come: - And, if I well forebode, - My hat and wig will soon be here,-- - They are upon the road.” - - The calender, right glad to find - His friend in merry pin, - Returned him not a single word, - But to the house went in; - - Whence straight he came with hat and wig, - A wig that flowed behind, - A hat not much the worse for wear, - Each comely in its kind. - - He held them up, and in his turn, - Thus showed his ready wit: - “My head is twice as big as yours. - They therefore needs must fit. - - “But let me scrape the dirt away, - That hangs upon your face; - And stop and eat, for well you may - Be in a hungry case.” - - Said John, “It is my wedding-day, - And all the world would stare, - If wife should dine at Edmonton, - And I should dine at Ware.” - - So, turning to his horse, he said-- - “I am in haste to dine: - ’Twas for your pleasure you came here, - You shall go back for mine.” - - Ah! luckless speech, and bootless boast, - For which he paid full dear; - For, while he spake, a braying ass - Did sing most loud and clear; - - Whereat his horse did snort, as he - Had heard a lion roar, - And galloped off with all his might, - As he had done before. - - Away went Gilpin, and away - Went Gilpin’s hat and wig; - He lost them sooner than at first; - For why?--they were too big. - - Now, mistress Gilpin, when she saw - Her husband posting down - Into the country--far away, - She pulled out half-a-crown; - - And thus unto the youth, she said, - That drove them to the Bell, - “This shall be yours, when you bring back, - My husband, safe and well.” - - The youth did ride, and soon did meet - John coming back amain; - Whom in a trice he tried to stop, - By catching at his rein; - - But, not performing what he meant, - And gladly would have done, - The frighted steed he frighted more, - And made him faster run. - - Away went Gilpin, and away - Went postboy at his heels,-- - The postboy’s horse right glad to miss - The lumbering of the wheels. - - Six gentlemen upon the road, - Thus seeing Gilpin fly, - With postboy scampering in the rear, - They raised the hue and cry: - - “Stop, thief! stop, thief!--a highwayman!” - Not one of them was mute; - And all and each that passed that way - Did join in the pursuit. - - And now the turnpike-gates again - Flew open in short space; - The toll-men thinking as before, - That Gilpin rode a race. - - And so he did, and won it too, - For he got first to town; - Nor stopped till where he had got up - He did again get down. - - Now let us sing, long live the king, - And Gilpin, long live he; - And when he next doth ride abroad, - May I be there to see! - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Third Reader, by Various - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THIRD READER *** - -***** This file should be named 51707-0.txt or 51707-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/7/0/51707/ - -Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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