* * * * *
EX CLAIM' ED, cried out. DE MAND' ING, asking; requiring. A MISS', wrong; improperly. AC CUS' ED, charged with. BREACH, violation. VIS' ION, sight; view. DE SCRIP' TION, account. SLUG' GARD, lazy person.
LAME AND LAZY,—A FABLE.
[Footnote: For an explanation of the term fable, see page 236.]
1. Two beggars, LAME and LAZY, were in want of bread. One leaned on his crutch, the other reclined on his couch. Lame called on Charity, and humbly asked for a cracker. Instead of a cracker, he received a loaf.
2. Lazy, seeing the gift of Charity, exclaimed: "What'! ask a cracker and receive a loaf'? Well, I will ask a loaf." Lazy now applied to Charity, and called for a loaf of bread. "Your demanding a loaf," said Charity, "proves you a loaf-er. You are of that class and character who ask and receive not; because you ask amiss."
3. Lazy, who always found fault, and had rather whine than work, complained of ill-treatment, and even accused Charity of a breach of an exceeding great and precious promise: "Ask, and ye shall receive."
4. Charity pointed him to a painting in her room, which presented to his vision three personages, Faith, Hope and Charity. Charity appeared larger and fairer than her sisters. He noticed that her right hand held a pot of honey, which fed a bee disabled, having lost its wings. Her left hand was armed with a whip to keep off the drones.
5. "I do not understand it," said Lazy. Charity replied: "It means that Charity feeds the lame, and flogs the lazy." Lazy turned to go. "Stop," said Charity, "instead of coin, I will give you counsel. Do not go and live on your poor mother; I will send you to a rich ant."
6. "Rich aunt'?" echoed Lazy. "Where shall I find her'?" "You will find a description of her," replied Charity, "in Proverbs, sixth chapter, sixth, seventh, and eighth verses, which read as follows: 'Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise; which, having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provided her meat in summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.'"
7. MORAL. Instead of waiting and wishing for a rich UNCLE to die, go and see how a rich ANT lives.
QUESTIONS.—1. Where is the quotation in the 3d paragraph to be found? Answer. John, 16th chapter, 24th verse. 2. Where, the quotation in the sixth paragraph? 3. Why does it commence with a half quotation? Answer. Because it denotes a quotation within a quotation.
* * * * *
HAUGH'TY, proud; disdainful. PAR TIC' U LAR LY, especially. TRANS ACT', do; perform. A BASH' ED, confused. DIS COV' ER, find out. EX AM' INE (egz am' in), look over; inspect. REC' TI FY, correct; make right. REC' OM PENSE, reward. DE SERVES', merits. DE CLIN' ING, failing. PRE VENT' ED, hindered. AP PRO BA' TION, approval. PRE'CEPTS, instructions; counsels. BEN E FAC' TOR, friend; one that benefits. A MASS' ED, gathered. A DAPT' ED, suited. CON FI DEN' TIAL, trusty; trusted. IN TEG' RI TY, honesty.
FAITHFULNESS IN LITTLE THINGS.
ELIZA A. CHASE.
1. "Is Mr. Harris in'?" inquired a plainly, but neatly dressed boy, twelve or thirteen years of age, of a clerk, as he stood by the counter of a large bookstore.
The clerk regarded the boy with a haughty look, and answered: "Mr. Harris is in; but he is engaged."
2. The boy looked at the clerk hesitatingly, and then said: "If he is not particularly engaged, I would like to see him."
"If you have any business to transact, I can attend to it," replied the clerk. "Mr. Harris can not be troubled with boys like you."
3. "What is this, Mr. Morley?" said a pleasant-looking man, stepping up to the clerk; "what does the boy want?"
"He insisted on seeing you, though I told him you were engaged," returned the clerk, a little abashed by the manner of his employer.
4. "And what do you wish to see me about, my lad?" inquired Mr. Harris, kindly.
The boy raised his eyes, and, meeting the scornful glance of the clerk, said timidly: "I wish you to look at the bill of some books which I bought here, about three months since. There is a mistake in it, which I wish to correct."
5. "Ah, my boy, I see," replied Mr. Harris; "you have overpaid us, I suppose!"
"No, sir," answered the boy. "On the contrary, I purchased some books which are not charged in the bill, and I have called to pay for them."
6. Mr. Harris looked at the boy earnestly for a moment, and then asked: "When did you discover this mistake?"
"Not until I reached home," replied the lad. "When I paid for the books I was in a great hurry, fearing the boat would leave before I could reach it, and I did not examine the bill."
7. "Why did you not return before, and rectify the mistake?" asked the gentleman, in a tone slightly altered.
"Because, sir, I live some distance from the city, and have not been able to return till now."
8. "My dear boy," said Mr. Harris, "you have given me great pleasure. In a long life of mercantile business, I have never met with an instance of this kind before. You have acted nobly and deserve a recompense."
"I ask no recompense," returned the boy. "I have done nothing but my duty—a simple act of justice, and that deserves no reward, but itself."
9. "May I ask who taught you such noble principles'?" inquired Mr. Harris.
"My mother'," answered the boy, bursting into tears.
10. "Blessed is the child who has such a mother," said Mr. Harris, "and blessed is the mother of such a child. Be faithful to her teachings, my dear boy, and you will be the staff of her declining years."
"Alas, sir," said the boy, "my mother is dead! It was her sickness and death which prevented me from coming here before."
11. "What is your name?" inquired Mr. Harris.
"Have you a father living'?"
"No, sir. My father died when I was an infant."
12. "Where do you reside?"
"In the town of Linwood, about fifty miles from this city."
"Well, my boy, what are the books which were forgotten?"
"Tacitus and a Latin Dictionary."
13. "Let me see the bill. Ha! signed by A. C. Morley. I will see to that. Here, Mr. Morley!" called Mr. Harris; but the clerk was busily engaged in waiting on a customer at the opposite side of the store, bowing and smiling in the most attentive manner.
14. "Edward," continued Mr. Harris, "I am not going to reward you for what you have done; but I wish to manifest my approbation of your conduct in such a manner, as to make you remember the wise and excellent precepts of your departed mother. Select from my store any ten books you choose, which, in addition to the two you had before, shall be a present to you; and henceforth, as now, my boy, remember and not 'despise the day of small things.' If ever you need a friend, call on me, and I will assist you."
15. The grateful boy thanked his kind benefactor, and, with tears in his eyes, bowed and left the store.
Edward Delong wished for knowledge, and, though the scanty means left him by his mother, could hardly satisfy his desire, by diligence and economy he had advanced far beyond most boys of his age. By working nights and mornings for a neighbor, he had amassed, what seemed to him, a large sum of money, and this was expended in books.
16. Edward's home was now with a man who regarded money as the chief end and aim of life, and severe and constant physical labor as the only means of obtaining that end. For two years Edward struggled with his hopeless condition, toiling early and late to obtain a livelihood.
17. Edward now resolved to go to the city, to seek some employment, better adapted to promote his education. He entered the same store where he purchased the books, and inquired for Mr. Harris.
"He is engaged," replied the polite clerk. "If you will wait a moment, he will be at liberty."
18. "Did you wish to see me?" asked Mr. Harris of the boy, whose thoughts were so intense that he had not noticed the approach of his friend.
"Mr. Harris!" exclaimed Edward, and it was all he could say. For the remembrance of past favors bestowed on him by his kind benefactor, so filled his heart with gratitude, that further utterance was denied.
"My noble Edward!" said the old gentleman. "And so you needed a friend. Well, you shall have one."
19. Five years from that time, Edward Delong was the confidential clerk of Mr. Harris, and, in three more, a partner in the firm. The integrity of purpose, which first won the regard of his benefactor, was his guide in after life. Prosperity crowned his efforts, and happiness blessed his heart,—the never-failing result of faithfulness in little things.
QUESTIONS.—1. Why did Edward Delong wish to see Mr. Harris? 2. Had he overpaid for the books he purchased? 3. What did he say when Mr. Harris told him he deserved a recompense? 4. What books were not charged in the bill? 5. In what way did Mr. Harris manifest his approval of Edward's conduct? 6. How long after this, before he again called on Mr. Harris? 7. Why could he not, at first, talk with Mr. Harris? 8. What did Edward finally become?
* * * * *
GRACE' FUL LY, beautifully. PROUD' LY, splendidly. FOR' EIGN (for' en), distant. CLIMES, countries; regions. SYM' BOL, sign; emblem. FEAR' FUL, dreadful; terrible. CAN' NON RY, discharge of cannon. JU' BI LEE, season of public joy. WIT' NESS ED, seen; beheld. NA' TIVE, birth-giving. BOON, gift; blessing. PAR' A DISE, blissful abode.
THE AMERICAN BOY.
Father, look up, and see that flag! How gracefully it flies! Those pretty stripes, they seem to be A rainbow in the skies.
It is your country's flag, my boy, And proudly drinks the light, O'er ocean's wave, in foreign climes, A symbol of our might.
Father, what fearful noise is that, Now thundering in the clouds? Why do they, cheering, wave their hat, And rush along in crowds?
It is the voice of cannonry, The glad shouts of the free; This is a day of memory, 'Tis FREEDOM'S JUBILEE!
I wish that I was now a man, I'd free my country too, And cheer as loudly as the rest; But, father, why don't you?
I'm getting old and weak; but still My heart is big with joy; I've witnessed many a day like this, Shout you aloud, my boy!
(oo) HURRAH, FOR FREEDOM'S JUBILEE, God bless our native land! And may I live to hold the boon Of freedom in my hand.
Well done, my boy, grow up, and love The land that gave you birth,— A land where Freedom loves to dwell,— A paradise on earth.
QUESTIONS.—1. Of what is our flag a symbol? 2. What is meant by Freedom's jubilee? 3. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words I'd, I'm, I've, &c.
* * * * *
BIL' LOWS, waves; surges. DE LIGHT', joy; pleasure. DOOM, fate; end. TWINK' LES, sparkles. GLARE, bright, dazzling light. EX PANSE', surface; extent. SWEEP, pass or drive over. RIFE, filled; abounding. VOY' AGE, passage; journey. AN' CHOR ED, moored; fixed. HA' VEN, harbor. PEACE' FUL LY, quietly; calmly.
THE SAILOR BOY'S SONG.
WRITTEN BY A GIRL THIRTEEN YEARS OF AGE.
1. ('') Oh! the sea, the sea Is the place for me, With its billows blue and bright; I love its roar, As it breaks on the shore, And its danger to me is delight.
2. Oh! I love the wave, And the sailor brave, Who often meets his doom On the ocean vast, And sleeps his last In a shell and coral tomb.
3. And, in the night, The moon's soft light Smiles sweetly on the foamy billow: And many a star, As it twinkles afar, Seems to rise from a watery pillow.
4. In the noontide glare, Oh! bright and fair Is the wide expanse of ocean; In the morn's first light 'Tis a glorious sight, So full of life and motion.
5. When the tempests sweep The rolling deep, And the angry billows swell, I mind not the strife, Which to me is rife With thoughts that I can not tell.
6. When life's voyage is o'er, And I sail no more On the ocean's troubled breast, Safe anchored above, In the haven of love, May the sailor boy peacefully rest.
QUESTIONS.—1. What is meant by coral tomb, 2d verse? 2. What, by watery pillow, third verse.
* * * * *
FOUN DA' TION, commencement. DO MES' TI CA TED, tamed. FA' VOR ITE, one specially favored. CA RESS' ED, fondled; petted. GAM' BOL ING, skipping; frolicking. IM' PULSE, feeling of excitement. DI LAT' ED, distended. SPEC TA' TORS, observers; lookers on. EN DEAV' OR ED, tried; attempted. ANX' IOUS, very desirous. IN TER CEPT', (INTER, between; CEPT, to take or seize;) to stop on the way. BE TRAY' ED, showed; disclosed. RE STRAIN' ED, held back; checked. COW' ED, depressed with fear. EN GRAV' ED, cut; inscribed.
In this lesson every pause is marked with its appropriate inflection.
CHASE OF THE PET FAWN.
1. Within twenty years from the foundation of our village', [Footnote: Cooperstown, New York.] the deer had already become scarce', and', in a brief period later', they had almost entirely fled from the country'. One of the last of these beautiful creatures, a pretty little fawn, had been brought in from the woods, when it was very young, and had been nursed and petted by a young lady in the village, until it became completely domesticated.
2. It was graceful, as those little creatures always are, and so gentle and playful that it became a great favorite. Following the different members of the family about, it was caressed and welcomed everywhere. One morning, after gamboling about as usual, until weary, it threw itself down in the sunshine, at the feet of one of its friends, upon the door-step of a store.
3. There came along a countryman, who, for several years, had been a hunter by pursuit, and who still kept several hounds, one of which came to the village with him, on this occasion. The dog, as it approached the place where the fawn lay, suddenly stopped; the little animal saw him, and darted to its feet.
4. It had lived more than half its life among the villagers, and had apparently lost all fear of them; but it now seemed to know instinctively that an enemy was at hand. In an instant, its whole character and appearance seemed changed; all its past habits were forgotten; every wild impulse was awake; its head erect, its nostrils dilated, its eyes flashing.
5. In another instant, before the spectators had thought of the danger, and before its friends could secure it, the fawn was leaping wildly through the street, and the hound in full chase. The by-standers were eager to save it; several persons instantly followed its track; the friends who had long fed and fondled it, were calling the name it had hitherto known; but, in vain.
6. The hunter endeavored to call back his dog; but, with no better success. In half a minute, the fawn had turned the first corner, dashed onward toward the lake, and thrown itself into the water. But, if, for a moment, the startled creature believed itself safe in the lake, it was soon undeceived; for the hound followed in hot and eager chase, while a dozen village dogs joined in the pursuit.
7. A large crowd collected on the bank—men, women, and children,—anxious for the fate of the little animal. Some threw themselves into boats, hoping to intercept the hound before he reached his prey. But the splashing of the oars, the voices of men and boys, and the barking of the dogs, must have filled the beating heart of the poor fawn with terror and anguish; as if every creature on the spot where it had once been caressed and fondled, had suddenly turned into a deadly foe.
8. It was soon seen that the fawn was directing its course across a bay, toward the nearest borders of the forest. Immediately the owner of the hound crossed the bridge, ran at full speed in the same direction, hoping to stop his dog as he landed. On swam the fawn, as it had never swam before; its delicate head scarcely seen above the water, but leaving a disturbed track which betrayed its course alike to anxious friends and fierce enemies.
9. As it approached the land, the interest became intense. The hunter was already on the same side of the lake, calling loudly and angrily to his dog; but the animal seemed to have quite forgotten his master's voice in the pitiless pursuit. The fawn touched the land; in one leap, it had crossed the narrow piece of beach, and, in another instant, it would reach the cover of the woods.
10. The hound followed true to the scent, aiming at the same spot on the shore. His master, anxious to meet him, had run at full speed, and was now coming up at the same critical moment. Would the dog listen to his voice? Could the hunter reach him in time to seize and control him? A shout from the spectators proclaimed that the fawn had passed out of sight into the forest. At the same instant, the hound, as he touched the land, felt the hunter's strong arm clutching his neck.
11. The worst was believed to be over; the fawn was leaping up the mountain-side, and its enemy restrained. The other dogs, seeing their leader cowed, were easily managed. A number of men and boys dispersed themselves through the wood in search of the little creature; but, without success. They all returned to the village, reporting that the animal had not been seen by them. Some persons thought that, after its fright had passed over, it would return of its own accord.
12. It wore a pretty collar with its owner's name engraved upon it, so that it could be easily known from any other fawn, that might be straying about the woods. Before many hours had passed, a hunter presented himself before the lady, whose pet the little creature had been, and showed a collar with her name upon it. He said that he was out hunting in the morning, and saw a fawn in the distance. The little creature, instead of bounding away as he expected, moved toward him. He took aim, fired, and shot it to the heart.
13. When he found the collar about its neck, he was very sorry he had killed it. One would have thought that that terrible chase would have made it afraid of man; but no; it forgot the evil, and remembered the kindness only; and came to meet, as a friend, the hunter who shot it. It was long mourned by its best friend.
QUESTIONS.—1. Where did the lady reside who kept this pet fawn? 2. Is there a lake near that village? 3. What river rises in that lake? 4. Describe the chase of the pet fawn. 5. How came it to be shot? 6. What did it forget, and what remember?
* * * * *
IN' FLU ENCE, moral power. DROOP' ED. bent over; languished. TING' ED, stained; colored. DEL' I CATE, soft; tender. TRIB' UTE, pay; requital. CASE' MENT, window. PERCH' ED, alighted. PLAINT' IVE, sorrowful. AF FRIGHT' ED, alarmed. TIM' ID, fearful; timorous. RE STRAIN' ED, held back. AT TEST', bear witness. SUA' SION, act of persuading. COM PLI' ANCE, submission. PAL' ED, inclosed. DE BAS' ED, degraded. DE' VI ATE, wander; stray. LE' NI ENT, mild; merciful.
1. Not man alone, but every thing in nature, owns its influence. I knew a little flower that sprang up amidst the weeds and brambles of a long-neglected garden; but soon drooped its slender stem, and its leaves grew tinged from the waste around.
2. I took it to my home, supported its drooping stem, and placed it where the warm sunshine and refreshing showers cheered its little life. Again it raised its beautiful head, and its delicate buds burst forth in gladness; and when the winds of autumn came, the dying flower gave up to me its golden seeds—a thankful tribute for my love. 'Twas a little thing, but kindness did the deed.
3. There came to my casement, one winter's morning, a shivering, starving bird, and perched itself there, striving to tell its tale of suffering; but feeble were its plaintive notes, and its glossy breast was ruffled in the blast. I raised the window. Affrighted, the little wanderer spread its wings, as if to soar away; but, weak and faint, it sank fluttering in my outstretched hands. I drew it in. Alarmed, it darted round and round the room, and beat against the frosted pane. O Cruelty! thou hast taught even the little birds to doubt!
4. When the little stranger grew less timid, I gave it clear water, and tempting food, and so, for many weeks, we dwelt together; but when came the first warm, sunny day, I opened my doors, and it flew away,—away up, up into the dark-blue heavens, till it was lost to my eager gaze.
5. But not an hour had passed, ere I heard the flutter of its tiny wings, and saw, without, its little breast glittering in the golden sunbeams. It had a joyous life. No wired cage restrained its restless wing; but, free as the summer cloud, would it come each day, and gladly would my delighted soul drink in the silvery notes of its gladdening melody.
6. And it is not birds and flowers alone, that, treated with kindness flourish so brightly 'neath its heaven-born rays. Individuals, families, nations, attest its truth. Legal suasion may frighten to compliance, but moral suasion rules the will.
7. To the erring wanderer, in the by and forbidden paths of sin, with a heart paled in darkness, and lost to every better feeling of his nature, one little word, one little act of kindness, however slight, will find a sunny resting-place in that sinful shade, and prove a light to guide the wayward one to holier and better deeds. The lion licked the hand that drew the thorn from his wounded foot; and Powhatan stayed the descending club, when the burning lips of the Indian girl pressed the prisoner's [Footnote: Captain Smith] pallid brow.
8. And it is ever thus. There beats not a heart, however debased by sin, or darkened by sorrow, that has not its noblest impulses aroused, in view of a generous and kindly action. The Holy Father implanted His own pure principles in the breast of every one, and widely do we deviate from their just dictates, when an unkind word, or an unkind act, wounds a broken heart, or crushes a loving, gentle nature.
9. "Speak not harshly,—much of care Every human heart must bear; Enough of shadows rudely play Around the very sunniest way; Enough of sorrows darkly lie Vailed within the merriest eye. By thy childhood's gushing tears, By thy grief in after years, By the anguish thou dost know, Add not to another's woe.
10. "Speak not harshly,—much of sin Dwelleth every heart within; In its closely caverned cells, Many a wayward passion dwells. By the many hours misspent, By the gifts to error lent, By the wrongs thou didst not shun, By the good thou hast not done, With a lenient spirit scan The weakness of thy brother man."
QUESTIONS.—1. On what has kindness an influence? 2. What influence had it upon the little flower? 3. What, upon the little bird? 4. What is said of cruelty? 5. What is said of legal and moral suasion? 6. What is said of the lion? 7. Of Powhatan? 8. Why ought we not to speak harshly?
* * * * *
SHAFT, arrow; here, careless word. MES' SEN GERS, message-bearers. PANG, distress; anguish. SPELLS, charms; enchantments. SEAL' ED, closed up; under seal. SEP' UL CHER, (ch like k), grave; tomb. SUM' MON ED, called. AG' O NY, extreme suffering. WRING, writhe. UN A WARES, unconsciously. MIN' GLES, unites; mixes. EN DEAR' ING, kind; affectionate. E CLIPSE', darkness; obscuration. CHER' ISH ED, fostered. EN SHRIN' ED, sacredly preserved. UT' TER ED, expressed.
1. Oh, never say a careless Word Hath not the power to pain; The shaft may ope some hidden wound, That closes not again! Weigh well those light-winged messengers; God marked your heedless Word, And with it, too, the falling tear, The heart-pang that it stirred.
2. Words! what are Words? A simple Word Hath spells to call the tears, That long have lain a sealed fount, Unclosed through mournful years. Back from the unseen sepulcher, A Word hath summoned forth A form that hath its place no more Among the things of Earth,
3. Words! heed them well; some whispered one Hath yet a power to fling A shadow on the brow, the soul In agony to wring; A name, forbidden, or forgot, That sometimes, unawares, Murmurs upon our wak'ning lips, And mingles in our prayers.
4. Oh, Words! sweet Words! A blessing comes Softly from kindly lips; Tender, endearing tones, that break The Spirit's drear eclipse. Oh! are there not some cherished tones In the deep heart enshrined? Uttered but once—they passed—and left A track of light behind.
QUESTIONS.—1. What is said of careless words? 2. What, of sweet words? 3. What is the use of the apostrophe in wak'ning, third verse? 4. What is the meaning of the suffix less, in the words careless, heedless? See SANDERS' NEW SPELLER, DEFINER, AND ANALYZER, page 143, Ex. 369.
* * * * *
VEG' E TA BLES, plants. DEP RE DA' TION, robbery; plunder. CAP TUR' ING, catching. TRES' PASS ER, transgressor. AP PEAL' ED, referred. COUN' SEL, lawyer; advocate. AR' GU MENT, plea; reason. URG' ING, enforcing; advocating. MIS' CHIEV OUS, hurtful; injurious. PRAC' TI CAL, pertaining to practice. DIS TIN' GUISH ED, celebrated. JU' RIST, one versed in law. AF FECT' ED, moved; impressed. FUR' NISH ED, supplied. VI' O LA TED, broken; transgressed. DE PRIVE', rob; hinder. AL LUD' ED, referred; adverted. RE STORE', give back.
WEBSTER AND THE WOODCHUCK.
1. Ebenezer Webster, the father of Daniel, was a farmer. The vegetables in his garden had suffered considerably from the depredations of a woodchuck, which had his hole or habitation near the premises. Daniel, some ten or twelve years old, and his older brother Ezekiel, had set a trap, and finally succeeded in capturing the trespasser.
2. Ezekiel proposed to kill the animal, and end, at once, all further trouble from him; but Daniel looked with compassion upon his meek, dumb captive, and offered to let him again go free. The boys could not agree, and they appealed to their father to decide the case.
3. "Well, my boys," said the old gentleman, "I will be the judge. There is the prisoner, (pointing to the wood-chuck,) and you shall be the counsel, and plead the case for and against his life and liberty."
4. Ezekiel opened the case with a strong argument, urging the mischievous nature of the criminal, the great harm he had already done; said that much time and labor had been spent in his capture, and now, if he were suffered to live and go again at large, he would renew his depredations, and be cunning enough not to suffer himself to be caught again.
5. He urged, further, that his skin was of some value, and that, to make the most of him they could, it would not repay half the damage he had already done. His argument was ready, practical, to the point, and of much greater length than our limits will allow us to occupy in relating the story.
6. The father looked with pride upon his son, who became a distinguished jurist in his manhood. "Now, Daniel, it is your turn: I'll hear what you have to say."
7. It was his first case. Daniel saw that the plea of his brother had sensibly affected his father, the judge; and as his large, brilliant, black eyes looked upon the soft, timid, expression of the animal, and he saw it tremble with fear in its narrow prison-house, his heart swelled with pity, and he urged, with eloquent words, that the captive might again go free.
8. "God," he said, "had made the woodchuck; he made him to live, to enjoy the bright sunlight, the pure air, the free fields and woods. God had not made him, or any thing, in vain; the woodchuck had as much right to life as any other living thing."
9. "He was not a destructive animal, as the wolf and the fox were; he simply ate a few common vegetables, of which they had plenty, and could well spare a part; he destroyed nothing except the little food he needed to sustain his humble life; and that little food was as sweet to him, and as necessary to his existence, as was to them the food upon their mother's table."
10. "God furnished to them food; he gave them all they possessed; and would they not spare a little for the dumb creature, that really had as much right to his small share of God's bounty, as they themselves had to their portion?"
11. "Yea, more, the animal had never violated the laws of his nature or the laws of God, as man often did; but strictly followed the simple, harmless instincts he had received from the hand of the Creator of all things. Created by God's hand, he had a right—a right from God—to life, to food, to liberty; and they had no right to deprive him of either."
12. He alluded to the mute, but earnest pleadings of the animal for that life, as sweet, as dear to him, as their own was to them, and the just judgment they might expect, if, in selfish cruelty and cold heartlessness, they took the life they could not restore—the life that God alone had given.
13. During this appeal, the tears had started to the old man's eyes, and were fast running down his sun-burnt cheeks; every feeling of a father's heart was stirred within him; he saw the future greatness of his son before his eyes, he felt that God had blessed him in his children, beyond the lot of most men.
14. His pity and sympathy were awakened by the eloquent words of compassion, and the strong appeal for mercy; and, forgetting the judge in the man and father, he sprang from his chair, (while Daniel was in the midst of his argument, without thinking he had already won his case,) and, turning to his older son, dashing the tears from his eyes, exclaimed, "Ezekiel, Ezekiel, you let that woodchuck go!"
QUESTIONS.—1. What did Ezekiel propose to do with the woodchuck after he was caught? 2. What argument did he offer for so doing? 3. What did Daniel wish to do with him? 4. What argument did he offer? 4. What was their father's decision?
* * * * *
SOLVE, explain; work out. PROB' LEM, question for solution. COM PELL' ED, obliged. IN' DO LENT, idle; lazy. DINT, force; means. CON' SCIOUS, self-perceived; felt. DEM ON STRA' TION, formal proof. RE CLIN' ING, leaning back. PON' DERS, weighs; examines. PROC' ESS, operation.
DO IT YOURSELF.
1. Do not ask the teacher or some classmate to solve that hard problem. DO IT YOURSELF. You might as well let him eat your dinner as "do your sums" for you. It is in studying as in eating; he who does it, gets the benefit, and not he who sees it done. In almost any school, the teacher learns more than the best scholars, simply because he is compelled to solve all the difficult problems, and answer all the questions of the indolent pupils.
2. Do not ask your teacher to parse that difficult word, or assist you in the performance of any of your studies. DO IT YOURSELF. Never mind, though they do look dark. Do not ask even a hint from any one. TRY AGAIN. Every trial increases your ability, and you will finally succeed by dint of the very wisdom and strength gained in the effort, even though, at first, the problem was beyond your skill. It is the study, and not the answer, that really rewards your labor.
3. Look at that boy, who has just succeeded after six hours of hard study. How his large eye is lit up with a proud joy, as he marches to his class! He treads like a conqueror! And well he may. Last night his lamp burned, and this morning he waked at dawn. Once or twice he nearly gave it up. He had tried his last thought; but a new thought strikes him, and he ponders the last process. He tries once more, and succeeds; and now mark the air of conscious strength with which he pronounces his demonstration.
4. His poor, weak schoolmate, who gave up that same problem, after his first trial, now looks up to him with something of a wonder, as a superior being. And he is his superior. That problem lies there, a great gulf between those boys who stood side by side yesterday.
5. The boy who did it for himself, has taken a stride upward, and what is better still, has gained strength to take other and better ones. The boy who waited to see others do it, has lost both strength and courage, and is already looking for some good excuse to give up school and study forever.
6. DO IT YOURSELF. Remember the counsel given to the artist, who lay reclining upon his couch, and wondering what the fates would work out for him. Directing his attention to a block of unhewn marble, with a chisel lying by its side, the sculptor in the vision is represented as thus addressing him: "Sir,
"There's the marble, there's the chisel, Take it, work it to thy will; Thou alone must shape thy future, Heaven send thee strength and skill!"
QUESTIONS.—1. Who is benefited in studying? 2. What really rewards the labor of study? 3. What is said of the boy who succeeded after six hours of hard study? 4. What, of the boy who gave up, after the first trial? 5. What counsel was given to the artist who wondered what the fates would work out for him?
How are the words to be read, which are printed in Italics and in capitals? See page 22, Note III.
* * * * *
SLACK' EN, relax; lessen. EN DEAV' OR, effort; exertion. WHOLE' SOME, useful; salutary. EX CEL', surpass; outdo. OUT STRIP' PED, outrun; excelled. SUR PASS' ED, excelled. VIC' TO RY, conquest; triumph. UT' TER MOST, very best. DAR' ING, courage; bravery. DE FECT', fault; deficiency. REPIN'ING, fretting; complaining. UN A VAIL' ING, vain; useless. COR RECT', amend; make right. MAX' IM, proverb; saying.
BETTER LATE THAN NEVER.
1. Life is a race, where some succeed, While others are beginning; 'Tis luck, at times, at others, speed, That gives an early winning. But, if you chance to fall behind, Ne'er slacken your endeavor; Just keep this wholesome truth in mind: 'Tis better late than never!
2. If you can keep ahead, 'tis well; But never trip your neighbor; 'Tis noble when you can excel By honest, patient labor. But, if you are outstripped, at last, Press on, as bold as ever; Remember, though you are surpassed, 'Tis better late than never!
3. Ne'er labor for an idle boast Of victory o'er another; But, while you strive your uttermost, Deal fairly with a brother. Whate'er your station, do your best, And, hold your purpose ever; And, if you fail to beat the rest, 'Tis better late than never!
4. Choose well the path in which you run,— Succeed by noble daring; Then, though the last, when once 'tis won, Your crown is worth the wearing. Then never fret, if left behind, Nor slacken your endeavor; But ever keep this truth in mind: 'Tis better late than never!
5. Yet, would you cure this sad defect, Repining's unavailing; Begin, at once, and now correct This very common failing. This day resolve,—this very hour, Nor e'en a moment wait; Go, make this better maxim yours,— 'Tis better never late!
QUESTIONS.—1. To what is life compared, first verse? 2. What advice is given if you chance to fall behind? 3. How ought you to treat your competitors? 4. What is a very common failing? 5. How may it be corrected? 6. What is the use of the apostrophe in the word repining's, fifth verse?
* * * * *
A DOPT' ED, taken as one's own. PIL' LAR ED, supported by pillars. TWI' LIGHT, faint light after sunset and before sunrise. THYME, (time,) fragrant plant. VINE' YARD, plantation of grapevines. DYE, hue; color. SPARK' LING, emitting bubbles.
THE ADOPTED CHILD.
LADY. Why wouldst thou leave me, O gentle child? Thy home on the mountains is bleak and wild, A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall; Mine is a fair and a pillared hall, Where many an image of marble gleams, And the sunshine of picture forever streams.
BOY. Oh, green is the turf where my brothers play, Through the long, bright hours of the summer-day; They find the red cup-moss where they climb, And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme; And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know, Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!
LADY. Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell; Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well,— Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, Harps which the wandering breezes tune, And the silvery wood-note of many a bird Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard.
BOY. My mother sings, at the twilight's fall, A song of the hills, far more sweet than all; She sings it under our own green tree, To the babe half-slumbering on her knee; I dreamed, last night, of that music low,— Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!
LADY. (pl.) Thy mother hath gone from her cares to rest; She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast; Thou wouldst meet her footstep, my boy, no more, Nor hear her song at the cabin-door: Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh, And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye.
BOY. Is my mother gone from her home away?— But I know that my brothers are there at play, I know they are gathering the fox-glove's bell, Or the long fern leaves by the sparkling well; Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow, Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!
LADY. Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, They sport no more on the mountain's brow; They have left the fern by the spring's green side, And the streams where the fairy barks were tried: Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot.
BOY. Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill? But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still, And the red deer bound in their gladness free, And the heath is bent by the singing bee, And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow,— Lady, kind lady! oh, let me go!
QUESTIONS.—1. What kind of words are straw-roofed, heath-flower, wood-note, &c.? 2. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words o'er, ne'er, twilight's, &c.?
* * * * *
AP PAR' ENT LY, evidently. CEN' TU RY, hundred years. GI GAN' TIC, very large. SPE' CIES, sort; kind. DI MEN' SION, size; bulk. SUB LIME', grand; magnificent. UN MO LEST' ED, free from disturbance. DIS PERS' ED, separated; scattered. CLAM' OR OUS, noisy; importunate. IN DE CIS' ION, doubt; irresolution. POIS' ED, balanced. AT' MOS PHERE, surrounding air. TAL' ONS, claws. DIS TRI BU' TION, division. EC' STA SY, excessive joy; transport. PER' SE CUT ED, harassed; injured.
THE OLD EAGLE TREE.
REV. JOHN TODD.
1. In a remote field stood a large tulip tree, apparently of a century's growth, and one of the most gigantic of that splendid species. It looked like the father of the surrounding forest. A single tree, of huge dimensions, standing all alone, is a sublime object.
2. On the top of this tree, an old eagle, commonly called the "Fishing Eagle," had built her nest every year, for many years, and, unmolested, raised her young. What is remarkable, as she procured her food from the ocean, this tree stood full ten miles from the sea-shore. It had long been known as the "Old Eagle tree."
3. On a warm, sunny day, the workmen were hoeing corn in an adjoining field. At a certain hour of the day, the old eagle was known to set off for the sea-side, to gather food for her young. As she this day returned with a large fish in her claws, the workmen surrounded the tree, and, by yelling, and hooting, and throwing stones, so scared the poor bird that she dropped her fish, and they carried it off in triumph.
4. The men soon dispersed; but Joseph sat down under a bush near by, to watch, and to bestow unavailing pity. The bird soon returned to her nest without food. The eaglets at once set up a cry for food, so shrill, so clear, and so clamorous, that the boy was greatly moved.
5. The parent bird seemed to try to soothe them; but their appetites were too keen, and it was all in vain. She then perched herself on a limb near them, and looked down into the nest with a look that seemed to say, "I know not what to do next."
6. Her indecision was but momentary; again she poised herself, uttered one or two sharp notes, as if telling them to "lie still," balanced her body, spread her wings, and was away again for the sea!
7. Joseph was determined to see the result. His eyes followed her till she grew small, smaller,—a mere speck in the sky,—and then disappeared. What boy has not often watched the flight of the bird of his country in this way?
8. She was gone nearly two hours, about double her usual time for a voyage, when she again returned, on a slow, weary wing, flying uncommonly low, in order to have a heavier atmosphere to sustain her, with another fish in her talons.
9. On nearing the field, she made a circuit around it, to see if her enemies were again there. Finding the coast clear, she once more reached her tree, drooping, faint, and weary, and evidently nearly exhausted. Again the eaglets set up their cry, which was soon hushed by the distribution of a dinner, such as—save the cooking—a king might admire.
10. "GLORIOUS BIRD!" cried the boy in ecstacy, and aloud; "what a spirit! Other birds can fly swifter, others can sing more sweetly, others can scream more loudly; but what other bird, when persecuted and robbed—when weary—when discouraged—when so far from sea,—would have done this!
11. "GLORIOUS BIRD! I will learn a lesson from thee to-day. I will never forget hereafter, that when the spirit is determined, it can do almost anything. Others would have drooped and hung the head, and mourned over the cruelty of man, and sighed over the wants of the nestlings; but thou, by at once recovering the loss, hast forgotten all.
12. "I will learn of thee, noble bird! I will remember this. I will set my mark high. I will try to do something, and to be something in the world; I will never yield to discouragements."
QUESTIONS.—1. How far was this Old Eagle tree from the seashore? 2. In what way did the workmen obtain the fish she brought for her young? 3. What is said of the eaglets and the parent bird, when she returned to the nest? 4. What did she then do? 5. What did Joseph say when she returned with another fish?
* * * * *
AUC' TION, vendue; public sale. HOME' LESS, (LESS, without or destitute of,) without home. PEN' NI LESS, destitute of pennies. WASTE' LESS, without waste. UN LIGHT' ED, (UN, not,) not lighted. SELF' ISH NESS, devoted to one's self. RE VERSE' (RE, back or again; VERSE, turn), turn back, or exchange places. AC QUIRE', gain; obtain. IL LUS TRA' TION, explanation. SOL' I TA RY, single. DIS PEL', drive away; disperse. BE NIGHT' ED, unenlightened.
THE LIGHT OF KNOWLEDGE.
1. Knowledge can not be stolen from you. It can not be bought or sold. You may be poor, and the sheriff come into your house, and sell your furniture at auction, or drive away your cow, or take your lamb, and leave you homeless and penniless; but he can not lay the law's hand upon the jewelry of your mind. This can not be taken for debt; neither can you give it away, though you give enough of it to fill a million minds.
2. I will tell you what such giving is like. Suppose, now, that there were no sun nor stars in the heavens, nor any thing that shone in the black brow of night; and suppose that a lighted lamp were put into your hand, which should burn wasteless and clear amid all the tempests that should brood upon this lower world.
3. Suppose next, that there were a thousand millions of human beings on the earth with you, each holding in his hand an unlighted lamp, filled with the same oil as yours, and capable of giving as much light. Suppose these millions should come, one by one, to you, and light each his lamp by yours, would they rob you of any light? Would less of it shine on your own path? Would your lamp burn more dimly for lighting a thousand millions?
4. Thus it is, young friends. In getting rich in the things which perish with the using, men have often obeyed to the letter that first commandment of selfishness: "Keep what you can get, and get what you can." In filling your minds with the wealth of knowledge, you must reverse this rule, and obey this law: "Keep what you give, and give what you can."
5. The fountain of knowledge is filled by its outlets, not by its inlets. You can learn nothing which you do not teach; you can acquire nothing of intellectual wealth, except by giving. In the illustration of the lamps, which I have given you, was not the light of the thousands of millions which were lighted at yours, as much your light, as if it all came from your solitary lamp? Did you not dispel darkness by giving away light?
6. Remember this parable, and, whenever you fall in with an unlighted mind in your walk of life, drop a kind and glowing thought upon it from yours, and set it a-burning in the world with a light that shall shine in some dark place to beam on the benighted.
QUESTIONS.—1. What is said of knowledge? 2. What is the giving of knowledge like? 3. In getting rich, what precept have men obeyed? 4. What precept must be obeyed in getting knowledge? 5. How is knowledge best acquired? 6. What is meant by the jewelry of the mind, first paragraph? 7. What, by intellectual wealth, fifth paragraph?
* * * * *
EX TIN' GUISH ED, put out. SOL' EMN, grave; serious. GAR' RI SON, fortress furnished with soldiers, for defense. SEN' TI NEL, soldier on guard. CAR A VAN, company of traveling traders or pilgrims. CON STEL LA' TIONS, clusters of fixed stars. BRILL' IANT, shining; sparkling. HOST, great multitude. EX' TRA, additional. CRES' CENT, form of the new moon. HAIL' ED, saluted. EF FUL' GENCE, splendor. RE' GEN CY, rule; government. WAN' ING, decreasing. SUP PLI CA TION, prayer; petition. RAPT' URE, great joy; transport.
[Headnote 1: PAL' ES TINE includes that part of Turkey in Asia, lying on the eastern borders of the Mediterranean Sea.]
1. The lessons of our school are over. The lights in the distant windows are extinguished, one after the other. The village will soon be lost in slumber. When all the men and the women are asleep, must we keep awake to learn lessons?
2. In large cities, there may be heard, now and then, the rushing wheel of the traveler. The watchmen pace their round, and cry, "All is well." In the long, cold nights of Norway, the watchmen who guard the capitol, pronounce, in a solemn tone, "God bless our good city of Bergen!"
3. In the garrison, or the endangered fortress, the armed sentinel keeps watch, lest they should be surprised by the foe. But in this peaceful village there is no need of either sentinel or watchman. Why may we not go to sleep, instead of learning Night's lessons?
4. My son, one of these you may learn in a moment. Did you say that all will soon be sleeping? No! there is one Eye that never slumbers. He who made all the people, keepeth watch above the everlasting hills. Commit yourself to His care.
5. Now, will you learn with me the second lesson of the night? Lift your eyes to yon glorious canopy. Seest thou not there a sentinel, set by the Eternal, at the northern gate of heaven,—the pole-star?
6. The pole-star! Blessings are breathed upon it, by the weary caravan, fearing the poisonous wind of the desert,—by the red forest-children, seeking their home beyond the far Western prairies,—and by the lonely mariner, upon the pathless ocean.
7. The stars! See them! The oil in their lamps never burns out. These glorious constellations wheel their mighty course unchanged, while "man dieth and wasteth away, yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?" [Footnote: Job, 14th chap., 10th verse.]
8. Yon brilliant orbs maintain their places, while countless generations pass away, and nations disappear and are forgotten. Let us bow in humility before "Him who bringeth out their host by number, who calleth them all by names, by the greatness of His might, for that He is strong in power; not one faileth." [Footnote: Isaiah. 40th chap., 26th verse.]
9. Thirteen times in the year, Night, the teacher, gives extra lessons. Will you be there to learn them? First, she hangs up a pale crescent in the west. The ancient Jews hailed its infant beam, and answering fires of joy were kindled on the hills of Palestine.[Headnote 1]
10. Next, she summons forth a rounded orb, clad in full effulgence, and commits to it the regency when the sun retires. Lastly, a slender, waning crescent appears nightly, like an aged man, ready to descend into the night of the tomb.
11. "Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth, Repeats the story of her birth; While all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole."
12. These are some of Night's lessons. Are you tired of them? Or, will you learn one more? Lift up your heart to Him who has given you the past day, with thanks for its blessings,—with penitence for its faults,—with supplication for strength and wisdom for the time that is to come.
13. "Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge" [Footnote: Psalm 19th, 2nd verse.] of God. Thus, meekly and faithfully studying Night's lessons, may we find
"Even sorrow, touched by Heaven, grows bright With more than rapture's ray, As darkness shows us worlds of light, We never saw by day."
QUESTIONS.—1. Who watches over us when asleep? 2. In what way is the pole-star useful to man? 3. What is said of the stars? 4. What extra lessons is it that night gives thirteen times a year? 5. Describe the first appearance of the moon. 6. How does it next appear? 7. Where is Palestine? 8. Where are the passages to be found, quoted in the 7th, 8th, and 13th paragraphs? 9. Do you know who is the author of the 11th verse? Ans. Addison.
* * * * *
HID' DEN, secret; concealed. QUAIL, sink; droop. SCORN' ING, disdaining. GREET' ING, salutation. VIEW' LESS, not to be seen. YEARN' ETH, longeth. CHANT, sing; carol. PORT' AL, entrance; gate-way. CHEER' Y, gay; lively. E TER' NI TY, endless duration.
1. Sunlight! tell the hidden meaning Of the rays thou lettest fall; Are they lessons writ in burning, Like God's warning on the wall?
Strive, O man, to let a loving Spirit cheer the sad and poor; So shall many a fair hope blossom, Where none grew before!
2. Stars! what is it ye would whisper, With your pure and holy light? Looking down so calm and tender From the watch-tower of the night.
When thy soul would quail from scorning, Keep a brave heart and a bold; As we always shine the brightest When the nights are cold.
3. Hast thou not a greeting for me, Heaven's own happy minstrel-bird'? Thou whose voice, like some sweet angel's, Viewless, in the cloud is heard'?
Though thy spirit yearneth sky-ward, Oh, forget not human worth! I, who chant at heaven's portal, Build my nest on earth.
4. River! river'! singing gayly From the hill-side all day long, Teach my heart the merry music Of thy cheery, rippling song.
Many winding ways I follow; Yet, at length, I reach the sea. Man, remember that thy ocean Is ETERNITY!
QUESTIONS.—1. What is meant by God's warning on the wall? See the 5th chap. of Daniel. 2. What is meant by minstrel-bird? Ans. The lark.
* * * * *
GLARE, dazzling light. BLITHE' LY, gayly; joyfully. WROUGHT, worked; labored. RE MORSE', painful regret. WANE, decrease; grow less. FAN' CIES, whims; notions.
A NON.' is an abbreviation of anonymous, which means without name; nameless. See SANDERS' ANALYSIS, page 88, Exercise 108.
SOWING AND HARVESTING.
1. They are sowing their seed in the daylight fair, They are sowing their seed in the noonday's glare, They are sowing their seed in the soft twilight, They are sowing their seed in the solemn night; What shall their harvest be?
2. They are sowing their seed of pleasant thought, In the spring's green light they have blithely wrought; They have brought their fancies from wood and dell, Where the mosses creep, and the flower-buds swell; Rare shall the harvest be!
3. They are sowing the seeds of word and deed, Which the cold know not, nor the careless heed,— Of the gentle word and the kindest deed, That have blessed the heart in its sorest need; Sweet shall the harvest be!
4. And some are sowing the seeds of pain, Of late remorse, and in maddened brain; And the stars shall fall, and the sun shall wane, Ere they root the weeds from the soil again; Dark will the harvest be!
5. And some are standing with idle hand, Yet they scatter seeds on their native land; And some are sowing the seeds of care, Which their soil has borne, and still must bear; Sad will the harvest be!
6. They are sowing the seed of noble deed, With a sleepless watch and an earnest heed; With a ceaseless hand o'er the earth they sow, And the fields are whitening where'er they go; Rich will the harvest be!
7. Sown in darkness, or sown in light, Sown in weakness, or sown in might, Sown in meekness, or sown in wrath, In the broad work-field, or the shadowy path, SURE will the harvest be!
QUESTIONS.—1. Who are meant by they in this lesson? 2. What is said of those who are sowing the seeds of word and deed? 3. What, of those who are sowing the seeds of care? 4. Repeat the last verse. 5. What passage of Scripture teaches the same idea? Ans. "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap."—Gal., 6th chap., 7th verse.
* * * * *
FOR' TI FI ED, strengthened by works of art for defense. SUL' TRY, close; oppressively hot. BOAT' SWAIN, one who has charge of a ship's boats, rigging, &c. TARS, sailors. MOOR' ED, anchored. BUOYS, floats. AN' CHOR, iron instrument for holding ships. STAR' BOARD, right side of a ship. FORE' CAS TLE, short deck in the fore part of a ship. WAKE, track. BE REFT', deprived. IM' MI NENT, impending. PIERC' ED, went through. FORE AND AFT, before and behind. SWAY' ED, swung; moved. CAR' CASS, dead body. EX CITE' MENT, agitation. PHA' SES, forms; appearances.
[Headnote 1: SA HA' RA, is a Great Desert in Africa, lying south of the Barbary States, and extending from the Atlantic on the west to Egypt and Nubia on the east. The winds that come from this desert, are hot and suffocating.]
A THRILLING INCIDENT.
1. Our noble ship lay at anchor in the Bay of Tangier, a fortified town in the extreme northwest of Africa. The day had been extremely mild, with a gentle breeze sweeping to the northward and westward; but, toward the close of the afternoon, the sea-breeze died away, and one of those sultry, oven-like breathings came from the great, sun-burnt Sahara [Headnote 1].
2. Half an hour before sundown, the captain gave the cheering order for the boatswain to call the hands to "go in swimming;" and, in less than five minutes, the forms of our tars were seen leaping from the arms of the lower yards, into the water. One of the studding sails, with its corners suspended from the main yard-arm and the swinging boom, had been lowered into the water, and into this most of the swimmers made their way.
3. Among those who seemed to be enjoying the sport most heartily, were two of the boys, Timothy Wallace and Frederic Fairbanks, the latter of whom was the son of our old gunner; and, in a laughing mood, they started out from the studding sail on a race. There was a loud ringing shout of joy on their lips as they put off, and they darted through the water like fishes. The surface of the sea was smooth as glass, though its bosom rose in long, heavy swells that set in from the Atlantic.
4. The vessel was moored with a long sweep from both cables, and one of the buoys of the anchor was far away on the starboard quarter, where it rose and fell with the lazy swells of the waves. Toward this buoy the two lads made their way, young Fairbanks taking the lead; but, when they were within about twenty or thirty fathoms of the buoy, Wallace shot ahead and promised to win the race.
5. The old gunner had watched the progress of his little son with a great degree of pride; and when he saw him drop behind, he leaped upon the quarter-deck, and was just upon the point of urging him on by a shout, when a cry was heard that struck him with instant horror.
6. "A shark! a shark!" was sounded from the captain of the forecastle; and, at the sound of these terrible words, the men who were in the water, leaped and plunged toward the ship. Right abeam, at the distance of three or four cables' lengths, was seen the wake of a shark in the water, where the back of the monster was visible. His course was for the boys.
7. For a moment, the gunner stood like one bereft of reason; but, on the next, he shouted at the top of his voice, for the boys to turn; but they heard him not. Stoutly the two swimmers strove for the goal, all unconscious of their imminent danger. Their merry laugh still rang over the waters, and, at length, they both touched the buoy together.
8. Oh, what agony filled the heart of the gunner! A boat had put off, but he knew that it could not reach the boys in season, and every moment he expected to see the monster sink from sight,—then he knew that all hope would be gone. At this moment, a cry reached the ship, that pierced every heart,—the boys had discovered their enemy.
9. The cry started the old gunner to his senses, and quicker than thought, he sprang from the quarter-deck. The guns were all loaded and shotted, fore and aft, and none knew their temper better than he. With steady hand, made strong by sudden hope, the old gunner seized a priming-wire and picked the cartridge of one of the quarter guns; then he took from his pocket a percussion cap, fixed it in its place, and set back the hammer of the patent lock.
10. With a giant strength the old man swayed the breech of the heavy gun to its bearing, and then seizing the string of the lock, he stood back and watched for the next swell that would bring the shark in range. He had aimed the piece some distance ahead of his mark; but yet a little moment would settle his hopes and fears.
11. Every breath was hushed, and every heart in that old ship beat painfully. The boat was yet some distance from the boys, while the horrid sea-monster was fearfully near. Suddenly the air was rent by the roar of the heavy gun; and, as the old man knew his shot was gone, he sank back upon the hatch, and covered his face with his hands, as if afraid to see the result of his own efforts; for, if he had failed, he knew that his boy was lost.
12. For a moment after the report of the gun had died away upon the air, there was an unbroken silence; but, as the dense smoke arose from the surface of the water, there was, at first, a low murmur breaking from the lips of the men,—that murmur grew louder and stronger, till it swelled to a joyous, deafening shout. The old gunner sprang to his feet, and gazed off on the water, and the first thing that met his view, was the huge carcass of the shark, floating on his back—a mangled, lifeless mass.
13. In a few moments, the boats reached the daring swimmers, and, greatly frightened, they were brought on board. The old man clasped his boy in his arms, and then, overcome by the powerful excitement, he leaned upon a gun for support. I have seen men in all the phases of excitement and suspense, but never have I seen three human beings more overcome by thrilling emotions, than on that startling moment when they first knew the effect of our gunner's shot.
QUESTIONS.—1. Where is the town of Tangier? 2. What order had been given by the captain of the vessel? 3. Who seemed most to enjoy the sport? 4. What is said of the old gunner? 5. What did he do? 6. What effect did his shot produce? 7. Describe the closing scene.
* * * * *
DIS GUISE', concealment. WAY' LAID, beset by the way. THREAT' EN ED, declared the intention. IN CLINE, dispose. RUF' FIANS, robbers; murderers. DIS TRIB'UTE, divide; apportion. TREAS' UR Y, place for keeping money. ALMS, gifts; donations. MI' SER LY, covetous; niggardly. SAL' A RY, wages; allowance for services. IN VOLV' ING, entangling. BE WIL' DER ED, puzzled; perplexed. LOG' IC, reasoning. SAGE, wise man. FUL FILL' ING, performing. E VA' SION, departure from truth. DE CEIT', deception; fraud.
THE TRUTHFUL KING.
1. A certain Persian king, while traveling in disguise, with but few attendants, was waylaid by robbers, who threatened to take not only his goods, but his life.
2. Feeling himself beyond the reach of human aid, he inwardly made a vow, that if God would incline the hearts of these ruffians to mercy, and restore him in safety to his family and people, he would distribute all the money then in his treasury, in alms to the needy of his realm.
3. The robbers, from some unknown cause, liberated him, and he soon reached home in safety, having sustained no injury, save the loss of the small purse of gold that he had carried in his girdle.
4. Desirous of keeping the vow he had made, he summoned his officers, and commanded them to make immediate distribution to the poor, of all that the treasury contained, at the time of his return.
5. But his officers, more miserly than himself, and, fearful that they might fall short in their salaries and pensions, began to urge upon the monarch the folly of keeping this rash vow, and the danger of thus involving himself and his kingdom in difficulties.
6. Finding he still remained firm, they took other grounds, and plausibly argued that the troops and other officials needed aid as well as the poor; and, as by the words of his vow, he had bound himself to distribute the contents of the treasury to those who had claim to relief, the public servants certainly came within the required limits.
7. Bewildered by their false logic, and sincerely desirous of doing right, he appealed to a certain sage who dwelt near the royal palace, and determined to abide by his decision.
8. The sage, after hearing the case, only asked the following simple question: "Of whom were you thinking when you made the vow,—the poor, or the public servants?" The monarch replied, "Of the poor." "Then," answered the sage, "it is to the poor you are bound to distribute these funds; for you are not really fulfilling your vow, unless you do that which you intended to do when it was made." The king was satisfied that this was the right decision, and did as the sage advised.
9. Let the young bear in mind that God is a being of truth, requiring truth in the inward heart; and, if they would have His approval, and that of their own consciences, they must avoid not only the outward appearance of falsehood, but the slightest evasion or deceit; and when promises have been made, fulfill not only the letter, but the spirit of that which they agreed to perform.
10. Beware of the first and slightest departure from truth, of the least endeavor to deceive, and even of the desire to have others believe what is not so. Let your motto be, "The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
QUESTIONS.—1. What happened to a certain Persian king? 2. What vow did he then make? 3. What objection did his officers make to this? 4. What did the king then do? 5. What was the sage's decision? 6. What motto ought you to adopt? 7. What rule for spelling the word traveling with one l? See SANDERS & McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS, page 13, Rule 10.
* * * * *
EN TIC' ES, allures; leads astray. PRE TEXT, pretense; false reason. PRO FANE, pollute; defile, TEMP TA' TION, allurement. IN' LY, within; in the heart. DE CLARES, says; asserts. CHAFE, vex; provoke. MAL' ICE, hatred; malevolence. AV' A RICE, excessive love of money. FORE GO', give up; renounce. MAM' MON, god of wealth; riches. IN DIG' NANT, with anger; disdainfully. LU' CRE, gain; profit. EM PRISE', enterprise; undertaking. SURE' TY, security. O VER THROW', subvert; destroy. CON TEMPT', scorn; disdain. SOR' CER ESS, enchantress. EX PEL', (EX, out; PEL, to drive) drive out; banish. RE SIST', (RE, again; SIST, to stand,) stand again; hence, to withstand.
See SANDERS and McELLIGOTT'S ANALYSIS, page 90, Ex. 113; also, page 110, Ex. 142.
WHEN SHALL I ANSWER NO?
1. When FALSEHOOD fair entices thee Against the truth to go, No matter what the pretext be, Be thy firm answer,—No!
2. When RASHNESS would thy tongue profane With language vile and low, O, make the gross temptation vain, By answering inly,—No!
3. When PRIDE the silly wish declares, That thou should'st fashion know, And lifts thy head with empty airs, Be wise, and answer,—No!
4. When ENVY would thy spirit chafe, That others prosper so, On calm contentment resting safe, Expel her with a—No!
5. When MALICE foul, or deadly HATE, Would turn thee on a foe, And dark, revengeful thirst create, In horror answer,—No!
6. When sluggish SLEEP, with folded arms, Would make thee health forego, ('')Rise up at once, resist her charms; Act out the answer,—No!
7. When AVARICE would, with heartless speed, Shout out the sight of woe, And whisper joy from Mammon's greed, Indignant answer,—No!
8. When filthy LUCRE lifts her hand, Ungodly gains to show, Though she should promise all the land, Be thy prompt answer,—No!
9. When greedy GAIN, or rash EMPRISE, Would have thee surety go, Keep Wisdom's words [Footnote 1] before thine eyes, And firmly answer,—No!
10. When mad AMBITION would seduce, The right to overthrow, And turn the selfish passions loose, In mercy answer,—No!
11. When foul CONTEMPT of Holy Writ Would in thy bosom sow The wish to be where scorners sit,[Footnote 2] Let Conscience answer,—No!
12. When SIN, indeed, whate'er her style, Would have thee with her go; Stay not to hear the Sorceress vile, But leave her with a—No!
[Footnote 1: Prov., 11th Chap., 15th verse.] [Footnote 2: 1st Psalm, 1st verse.]
* * * * *
PE RUSE', read; study. AL LOT' TED, assigned. ME RID' I AN, noon; mid-day. GEN' U INE, true; real. ART' FUL, cunning; crafty. MIM' ICK ED, pretended; counterfeited. PRE SIDE', have sway or rule. DE MER' IT, ill-desert; defect. RU' BY, precious stone. PUP' PET, little image. DE TER' MINE, decide; find out. ER' MINE, fine fur—(of the ermine.) CAP' TOR, one who takes a prize. SCEP' TERS, emblems of authority. CHA' RY, careful; wary. MYS' TIC, secret; mysterious.
We have seldom seen any thing so full of wit, truth, and practical wisdom, as this poem inscribed.
TO MASTERS ROBERT AND JOHN.
1. Take this book, my boys, Earnestly peruse it; Much of after lies In the way ye use it: Keep it neat and clean; For, remember, in it, Every stain that's seen, Marks a thoughtless minute.
2. Life is like a book, Time is like a printer, Darting now his look Where has gloomed no winter. Thus he'll look, and on, Till each page allotted, Robert, thee and John, Printed be or blotted.
3. Youth's a sunny beam, Dancing o'er a river, With a flashing gleam, Then away forever. Use it while ye may, Not in childish mourning,— Not in childish play, But in useful learning.
4. As your years attain Life's meridian brightness, Hourly seek and gain Genuine politeness: This lives not in forms, As too many teach us,— Not in open arms, Not in silken speeches,
5. Not in haughty eye, Not in artful dealing, Not within the sigh Of a mimicked feeling: But its lights preside Rich in nature's splendor, Over honest pride, Gentleness and candor.
6. Slight ye not the soul For the frame's demerit; Oft a shattered bowl Holds a mighty spirit: Never search a breast By thy ruby's glances; Pomp's a puppet guest, Danced by circumstances.
7. What is good and great, Sense can soon determine; Prize it though ye meet, Or in rags or ermine. Fortune's truly blind; Fools may be her captors; But the wealth of mind Stands above their scepters.
8. Value not the lips Swiftest kept in motion, Fleetly-sailing ships Draw no depth of ocean: Snatch the chary gleam, From the cautious knowing For the deepest stream Scarcely lisps 'tis flowing.
9. Cull from bad and good Every seeming flower, Store it up as food For some hungry hour: Press its every leaf, And remember, Johnny, Even weeds the chief May have drops of honey.
10. Pomp and power alone Never make a blessing; Seek not e'en a throne By one wretch distressing. Better toil a slave For the blood-earned penny, Than be rich, and have A curse on every guinea.
11. Think, my gentle boys, Every man a brother! That's where honor lies, Nay, but greatness rather: One's the mystic whole, Lordly flesh won't know it; But the kingly soul, Sees but vice below it.
12. Robert, thoughts like these, Store you more than money; Read them not to please, But to practice, Johnny. Artless though their dress, As an infant's dimple, Truth is none the less For being truly simple.
QUESTIONS.—1. What did the writer tell Robert and John to do with the book, given them? 2. What use did he tell them to make of Youth?
* * * * *
AV A RI'' CIOUS, greedy after gain. IN' TI MATE, close in friendship. EA' GER NESS, ardent desire. FRU GAL' I TY, wise economy. AC QUI SI'' TIONS, gains. AF' FLU ENCE, great wealth. SUC' CES SION, regular order. MOIL' ING, drudging; laboring. DIS CON TIN' U ED, ceased. AS SI DU' I TY, untiring diligence. DIS GUST' ED, greatly dissatisfied. IN DULG' ED, gratified. MON' STROUS, very large. SUC CEED' ING, following. MAT' TOCK, pick-ax. UN DER MINE', dig under. O' MEN, sign; token. IM AG' IN ED, conceived.
WHANG, THE MILLER.
1. Whang, the miller, was naturally avaricious; nobody loved money better than he, or more respected those that had it. When people would talk of a rich man in company, Whang would say, "I know him very well, he and I have been very long acquainted; he and I are intimate."
2. But, if a poor man was mentioned, he had not the least knowledge of the man; he might be very well, for aught he knew; but he was not fond of making many acquaintances, and loved to choose his company.
3. Whang, however, with all his eagerness for riches, was poor. He had nothing but the profits of his mill to support him; but, though these were small, they were certain: while it stood and went, he was sure of eating; and his frugality was such, that he, every day, laid some money by; which he would, at intervals, count and contemplate with much satisfaction.
4. Yet still his acquisitions were not equal to his desires; he only found himself above want; whereas he desired to be possessed of affluence. One day, as he was indulging these wishes, he was informed that a neighbor of his had found a pan of money under ground, having dreamed of it three nights in succession.
5. These tidings were daggers to the heart of poor Whang. "Here am I," said he, "toiling and moiling from morning till night for a few paltry farthings, while neighbor Thanks only goes quietly to bed, and dreams himself into thousands before morning. Oh, that I could dream like him! With what pleasure would I dig round the pan! How slyly would I carry it home! Not even my wife should see me! And then, oh the pleasure of thrusting one's hands into a heap of gold up to the elbows!"
6. Such reflections only served to make the miller unhappy. He discontinued his former assiduity; he was quite disgusted with small gains; and his customers began to forsake him. Every day he repeated the wish, and every night laid himself down in order to dream. Fortune, that was for a long time unkind, at last, however, seemed to smile upon his distress, and indulged him with the wished-for vision.
7. He dreamed that under a certain part of the foundation of his mill, there was concealed a monstrous pan of gold and diamonds, buried deep in the ground, and covered with a large flat stone. He concealed his good luck from every person, as is usual in money-dreams, in order to have the vision repeated the two succeeding nights, by which he should be certain of its truth. His wishes in this, also, were answered; he still dreamed of the same pan of money, in the very same place.
8. Now, therefore, it was past a doubt; so, getting up early the third morning, he repaired, alone, with a mattock in his hand, to the mill, and began to undermine that part of the wall to which the vision directed. The first omen of success that he met with, was a broken ring; digging still deeper, he turned up a house-tile, quite new and entire.
9. At last, after much digging, he came to a broad flat stone; but then it was so large, that it was beyond his strength to remove it. "There," cried he in raptures to himself, "there it is! under this stone, there is room for a very large pan of diamonds indeed. I must e'en go home to my wife, and tell her the whole affair, and get her to assist me in turning it up." Away, therefore, he goes, and acquaints his wife with every circumstance of their good fortune.
10. Her raptures, on this occasion, may easily be imagined; she flew round his neck, and embraced him in an agony of joy. But these transports, however, did not allay their eagerness to know the exact sum; returning, together, to the place where Whang had been digging, there they found—not, indeed, the expected treasure—but the mill, their only support, undermined and fallen!
QUESTIONS.—1. Upon what was Whang, the miller, dependent for support? 2. Why was he not satisfied? 3. What did he say to himself, after the information he had received from a neighbor? 4. What effect had such reflections upon him? 5. What did he dream three nights successively? 6. What did he do? 7. What was the result?
* * * * *
PO LITE' NESS, good manners. FI DEL' I TY, faithfulness. IN CU BA' TION, act of hatching eggs. REC RE A' TION, pastime; amusement. DE MURE' LY, gravely; with affected modesty. AP PRE CI A' TION, estimate. LITHE, nimble; flexible. EX' IT, departure; going out. ARCH' I TECTS, (ch, like k,) builders. SA LI' VA, spittle. SE CRETE', to deposit; produce. CON'' GRE GATE, collect together. FLEDG' ED, furnished with feathers. DO MAIN', realm; kingdom. AC COM MO DA' TIONS, conveniences. MI' GRATE, remove; travel. SPHERE, (ph like f,) circuit of action.
HENRY WARD BEECHER.
1. Every one knows, who lives in the country, what a chimney-swallow is. They are among the birds that seem to love the neighborhood of man. Many birds there are, that nestle confidingly in the protection of their superiors, and are seldom found nesting or breeding far from human habitations.
2. The wren builds close to your door. Sparrows and robins, if well treated, will make their nests right under your window, in some favorite tree, and will teach you, if you choose to go into the business, how to build birds' nests.
3. A great deal of politeness and fidelity may be learned. The female bird is waited upon, fed, cheered with singing, during her incubation, in a manner that might give lessons to the household. Nay, when she needs exercise and recreation, her husband very demurely takes her place, and keeps the eggs warm in the most gentlemanly way.
4. Barn-swallows have a very sensible appreciation of the pleasures of an ample barn. A barn might not be found quite the thing to live in, (although we have seen many a place where we would take the barn sooner than the house,) but it is one of the most charming places in a summer-day to lounge, read, or nap in.
5. And, as you lie on your back upon the sweet-scented hay-mow, or upon clean straw thrown down on the great floor, reading books of natural history, it is very pleasant to see the flitting swallows glance in and out, or course about under the roof, with motion so lithe and rapid as to seem more like the glancing of shadows than the winging of birds. Their mud-nests are clean, if they are made of dirt; and you would never dream, from their feathers, what sort of a house they lived in.
6. But, it was of chimney-swallows that we began to write; and they are just now roaring in the little, stubbed chimney behind us, to remind us of our duty. Every evening we hear them; for a nest of young ones brings the parents in with food, early and late, and every entrance or exit is like a distant roll of thunder, or like those old-fashioned rumblings of high winds in the chimney, which made us children think that all out-of-doors was coming down the chimney in stormy nights.
7. These little architects build their simple nests upon the sides of the chimney with sticks, which they are said to break off from dead branches of trees, though they might more easily pick them up already prepared. But they, doubtless, have their own reasons for cutting their own timber. Then these are glued to the wall by a saliva which they secrete, so that they carry their mortar in their mouths, and use their bills for trowels.
8. When the young are ready to leave, they climb up the chimney to the top, by means of their sharp claws, aided by their tail-feathers, which are short, stiff, and at the end armed with sharp spines. Two broods are reared in a season. From the few which congregate in any one neighborhood, one would not suspect the great numbers which assemble at the end of the season. Audubon estimated that nine thousand entered a large sycamore-tree, every night, to roost, near Louisville, Kentucky.
9. Sometimes the little nest has been slighted in building, or the weight proves too great, and down it comes into the fire-place, to the great amusement of the children, who are all a-fever to hold in their hands these clean, bright-eyed little fellows. Who would suspect that they had ever been bred in such a flue?
10. And it was just this thought that set us to writing. Because a bird lives in a chimney, he need not be smutty. There is many a fine feather that lives in a chimney-corner. Nor are birds the only instances. Many men are born in a garret, or in a cellar, who fly out of it, as soon as fledged, as fine as any body. A lowly home has reared many high natures.
11. On these bare sticks, right against the bricks, in this smoky flue, the eggs are laid, the brooding goes on, the young are hatched, fed, grown. But then comes the day when they spread the wing, and the whole heaven is theirs! From morning to night, they can not touch the bounds of their liberty!
12. And, in like manner, it is with the human soul that has learned to know its liberty. Born in a body, pent up, and cramped, it seems imprisoned in a mere smoky flue for passions. But, when once faith has taught the soul that it has wings, then it begins to fly; and flying, finds that all God's domain is its liberty.
13. And, as the swallow that comes back to roost in its hard hole at night, is quite content, so that the morning gives it again all the bright heavens for its soaring-ground, so may men, close quartered and cramped in bodily accommodations, be quite patient of their narrow bounds, for their thoughts may fly out every day gloriously.
14. And as, in autumn, these children of the chimney gather in flocks, and fly away to heavens without a winter, so men shall find a day when they, too, shall migrate; and, rising into a higher sphere, without storm or winter, shall remember the troubles of this mortal life, as birds in Florida may be supposed to remember the northern chills, which drove them forth to a fairer clime.
QUESTIONS.—1. What birds seem to love the neighborhood of man? 2. In what respects may men be like birds?
* * * * *
The first part of each verse, or that portion read by the First Voice, should be expressed in a slow and despondent tone of voice: the second part, or that read by the Second Voice, should be expressed in a more sprightly and cheerful manner.
THE DOUBTING HEART.
ADELAIDE A. PROCTER.
1. Where are the swallows fled? Frozen and dead, Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy shore.
O doubting heart! Far over purple seas, They wait, in sunny ease, The balmy southern breeze, To bring them to their northern homes once more.
2. Why must the flowers die? Poisoned they lie In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.
O doubting heart! They only sleep below The soft, white ermine snow, While winter winds shall blow, To breathe and smile upon you soon again.
3. The sun has hid its rays These many days; Will dreary hours never leave the earth?
O doubting heart! The stormy clouds on high Vail the same sunny sky, That soon, (for Spring is nigh,) Shall wake the Summer into golden mirth.
4. Fair Hope is dead, and light Is quenched in night. What sound can break the silence of despair?
O doubting heart! The sky is overcast, Yet stars shall rise at last, Brighter for darkness past, And angels' silver voices stir the air.
* * * * *
DECK'ED, dressed; arrayed. TRAIL'ING, hanging down; following one after another. UN FAIL'ING, constant; continually. UN PLI'ANT, stiff; unbending. DE FI'ANT, daring; bidding defiance. VES'PER, evening. CRISP'ER, more brittle. TREAS'URES, wealth; riches. MER'IT, desert; goodness. IN HER'IT, occupy; possess. MOR'SEL, bit; small piece. WAIL'ING, loudly lamenting. RAIL'ING, clamoring.
THE COMING OF WINTER.
1. Autumn's sighing, Moaning, dying, Clouds are flying On like steeds; While their shadows O'er the meadows. Walk like widows Decked in weeds.
2. Red leaves trailing, Fall unfailing, Dropping, sailing, From the wood, That, unpliant, Stands defiant, Like a giant Dropping blood.
3. Winds are swelling Round our dwelling, All day telling Us their woe; And, at vesper, Frosts grow crisper, As they whisper Of the snow.
4. From th' unseen land, Frozen inland, Down from Greenland, Winter glides, Shedding lightness Like the brightness When moon-whiteness Fills the tides.
5. Now bright Pleasure's Sparkling measures With rare treasures Overflow! With this gladness Comes what sadness! Oh, what madness, Oh, what woe!
6. Even merit May inherit Some bare garret, Or the ground; Or, a worse ill, Beg a morsel At some door-sill, Like a hound.
7. Storms are trailing, Winds are wailing, Howling, railing, At each door. 'Midst this trailing Howling, railing, List the wailing Of the poor!
QUESTIONS.—1. What is the first sign of the coming of winter? 2. What, the second? 3. What, the third? 4. What are some of the pleasures of winter? 5. What is said of the poor in winter? 6. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words autumn's, o'er, pleasure's, 'midst, &c.?
* * * * *
LIVE' LONG, whole; entire. EAVES, edges of a roof. E' VEN TIDE, evening. STRIV' EN, struggled; contended. RE LIEV' ED, mitigated; alleviated. WRETCH' ED NESS, distress; destitution. OF FENSE', fault; crime. PEN' I TENCE, repentance; contrition. EL' O QUENT LY, forcibly; persuasively.