Chapter IX: Section V: The Rhetorical Pause (3)

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?

* * * * *

LESSON XXVIII.

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.

CHIMNEY-SWALLOWS.

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?

* * * * *

LESSON XXIX.

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.

FIRST VOICE.

1. Where are the swallows fled?
Frozen and dead,
Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy shore.

SECOND VOICE.

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.

FIRST VOICE.

2. Why must the flowers die?
Poisoned they lie
In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.

SECOND VOICE.

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.

FIRST VOICE.

3. The sun has hid its rays
These many days;
Will dreary hours never leave the earth?

SECOND VOICE.

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.

FIRST VOICE.

4. Fair Hope is dead, and light
Is quenched in night.
What sound can break the silence of despair?

SECOND VOICE.

O doubting heart!
The sky is overcast,
Yet stars shall rise at last,
Brighter for darkness past,
And angels' silver voices stir the air.

* * * * *

LESSON XXX.

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.

T.B. READ.

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.?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXI.

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.

CHILD TIRED OF PLAY.

N.P. WILLIS.

1. Tired of play`! tired of play`!
What hast thou done this livelong day`?
The birds are silent', and so is the bee`;
The sun is creeping up steeple and tree`;
The doves have flown to the sheltering eaves',
And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves';
Twilight gathers', and day is done`,--
How hast them spent it`,--restless one'?

2. Playing`? But what hast thou done beside,
To tell thy mother at eventide`?
What promise of morn is left unbroken`?
What kind word to thy playmates spoken`?
Whom hast thou pitied, and whom forgiven`?
How with thy faults has duty striven`?
What hast thou learned by field and hill,
By greenwood path, and by singing rill`?

3. There will come an eve to a longer day',
That will find thee tired`,--but not of play'!
And thou wilt lean, as thou leanest now,
With drooping limbs, and aching brow,
And wish the shadows would faster creep,
And long to go to thy quiet sleep.
_Well_ were it then, if thine aching brow
Were as free from sin and shame as now!
_Well_ for thee, if thy lip could tell
A tale like this, of _a day spent well_.

4. If thine open hand hath relieved distress',--
If thy pity hath sprung to wretchedness',--
If thou hast forgiven the sore offense',
And humbled thy heart with penitence',--
If Nature's voices have spoken to thee
With her holy meanings eloquently',--
If every creature hath won thy love',
From the creeping worm to the brooding dove',--
If never a sad, low-spoken word
Hath pled with thy human heart unheard',--
_Then_`, when the night steals on, as now,
It will bring relief to thine aching brow,
And, with joy and peace at the thought of rest,
Thou wilt sink to sleep on thy mother's breast.

QUESTIONS.--1. What had the child been doing? 2. What questions did the mother ask? 3. What did she tell the child would come? 4. What is meant by _eve to a longer day_, third verse? 5. What, by _quiet sleep_, same verse? 6. What ought we to do in life, in order to have a joyful and peaceful death? 7. What rule for the rising inflection on _restless one_, first verse? See page 32, Note I. 8. What rule for the falling inflection on _playing_, second verse? See page 29, Rule II. 9. What rule for the rising inflections in the fourth verse? Rule V., page 31.

* * * * *

LESSON XXXII.

NORTH-EAST' ERS, north-east winds.
EX HAUST' ED, (_x_ like _gz_,) tired out.
VIG' I LANT, watchful.
DE TECT' ED, discovered.
LEE' WARD, pertaining to the part toward which the wind blows.
RE CED' ING, retiring; passing away.
BRILL' IAN CY, brightness; luster.
TILL' ER, bar used to turn the rudder.
TORT' URE, anguish of spirit.
DE SERT' ED, relinquished; abandoned.
RA PID' I TY, speed; swiftness.
EN VEL' OP ED, inclosed; covered.
GEN' ER A TED, produced.
LETH' AR GY, drowsiness; dullness.
RES' CUE, deliverance.
IN EV' I TA BLY, surely; certainly.
ES PY' ING, seeing; discovering.
CON' TACT, (CON, _together_; TAC, _touch_,) a touching together;
close union.

THE RESCUE.

BY A SEA CAPTAIN.

1. On a bright moonlight night, in the month of February, 1831, when it was intensely cold, the little brig which I commanded, lay quietly at her anchors, inside of Sandy Hook. We had had a hard time, beating about for eleven days off this coast, with cutting north-easters blowing, and snow and sleet falling for the most part of that time.

2. Forward, the vessel was thickly coated with ice, and it was hard work to handle her; as the rigging and sails were stiff, and yielded only when the strength of the men was exerted to the utmost. When we, at length, made the port, all hands were worn down and exhausted.

3. "A bitter cold night, Mr. Larkin," I said to my mate, as I tarried for a short time upon deck. The worthy down-easter buttoned his coat more tightly around him, and, looking up to the moon, replied, "It's a whistler, captain; and nothing can live comfortably out of blankets to-night."

4. "The tide is running out swift and strong, and it will be well to keep a sharp look-out for this floating ice, Mr. Larkin," said I, as I turned to go below. "Ay, ay, sir," responded the faithful mate.

5. About two hours afterward, I was aroused from a sound sleep by the vigilant officer. "Excuse me for disturbing you, captain," said he, as he detected an expression of vexation in my face, "but I wish you would turn out, and come on deck as soon as possible."

6. "What's the matter, Mr. Larkin," said I. "Why, sir, I have been watching a large cake of ice, which swept by at a distance, a moment ago; and I saw something black upon it, something that I thought moved. The moon is under a cloud, and I could not see distinctly; but I believe there is a child floating out to the sea, this freezing night, on that cake of ice."

7. We were on deck before either spoke another word. The mate pointed out, with no little difficulty, the cake of ice floating off to the leeward, with its white, glittering surface broken by a black spot. "Get the glass, Mr. Larkin," said I; "the moon will be out of that cloud in a moment, and then we can see distinctly."

8. I kept my eye upon the receding mass of ice, while the moon was slowly working her way through a heavy bank of clouds. The mate stood by me with the glass; and when the full light fell upon the water with a brilliancy only known in our northern latitudes, I put the glass to my eye. One glance was enough.

9. (_''_)"_Forward, there!_" I hailed at the top of my voice; and, with one bound, I reached the main hatch, and began to clear away the little cutter, which was stowed in the ship's yawl. Mr. Larkin had taken the glass to look for himself, "_There are two children on that cake of ice!_" he exclaimed, as he hastened to assist me in getting out the boat.

10. The men answered my hail, and walked quickly aft. In a short space of time, we launched the cutter, into which Mr. Larkin and myself jumped, followed by the two men, who took the oars. I rigged the tiller, and the mate sat beside me in the stern sheets.

11. "Do you see that cake of ice with something black upon it, my lads? Put me alongside of that, and I'll give you a month's extra wages when you are paid off," said I to the men.

12. They bent to their oars, but their strokes were uneven and feeble; for they were worn out by the hard duty of the preceding fortnight; and, though they did their best, the boat made little more headway than the tide. It was a losing chase, and Mr. Larkin, who was suffering torture as he saw how little we gained, cried out, "_Pull, lads! I'll double the captain's prize: two months' extra pay: pull, lads! pull for life!_"

13. A convulsive effort at the oars told how willing the men were to obey; but the strength of the strong man was gone. One of the poor fellows washed us twice in recovering his oar, and then gave out; and the other was nearly as far gone. Mr. Larkin sprang forward and seized the deserted oar. "Lie down in the bottom of the boat," said he to the man; "and, captain, take the other oar; we must row for ourselves."

14. I took the second man's place. Larkin had stripped off his coat, and, as he pulled the bow, I waited for the signal stroke. It came gently, but firm; and the next moment we were pulling a long, steady stroke; gradually increasing in rapidity, until the wood seemed to smoke in the row-locks. We kept time, each by the long, deep breathing of the other.

15. Such a pull! We bent forward until our faces almost touched our knees; and then throwing all our strength into the backward movement, drew on the oar until every inch covered by the sweep was gained. Thus we worked at the oars for fifteen minutes; and it seemed to me as many hours. The sweat rolled off in great drops, and I was enveloped in a steam generated from my own body.

16. "Are we almost up to it, Mr. Larkin?" I gasped out. "Almost, captain," said he: "and _don't give up!_ for the love of our dear little ones at home: _don't give up_, captain!" The oars flashed as their blades turned up to the moonlight, for the men who plied them were fathers, and had fathers' hearts.

17. Suddenly Mr. Larkin ceased pulling; and my heart, for a moment, almost stopped its beating; for the terrible thought that he had given out, crossed my mind. But I was re-assured by his voice, (_p_) "Gently, captain, gently: a stroke or two more: there, that will do;" and the next moment Mr. Larkin sprang upon the ice. I started up, and, calling to the men to make fast the boat to the ice, followed him.

18. We ran to the dark spot in the center of the mass, and found two little boys. The head of the smaller was resting in the bosom of the larger; and both were fast asleep. The lethargy, which would have been fatal but for the timely rescue, had overcome them.

19. Mr. Larkin grasped one of the lads, cut off his shoes, tore off his jacket, and then, loosening his own garments to the skin, placed the cold child in contact with his own warm body, carefully wrapping his overcoat around him. I did the same with the other child, and we then returned to the boat.

20. The children, as we learned when we had the delight of restoring them to their parents, were playing on the cake of ice, which had jammed into a bend of the river, about ten miles above New York. A movement of the tide set the ice in motion, and the little fellows were borne away, that cold night, and would have inevitably perished, but for Mr. Larkin's espying them as they were sweeping out to sea.

21. "How do you feel, Mr. Larkin?" I said to the mate, the morning after this adventure. "A little stiff in the arms, captain," the noble fellow replied, while the big tears of grateful happiness gathered in his eyes,--"a little stiff in the arms, captain, but very easy here," laying his hand on the rough chest in which beat a true and manly heart. My quaint down-easter, He who lashes the seas into fury, and lets loose the tempest, will care for thee! The storms may rage without, but in _thy_ bosom peace and sunshine abide always.

QUESTIONS.--1. Describe the condition of the vessel as she lay at anchor inside Sandy Hook. 2. What did the captain say to Mr. Larkin, as he retired to rest? 3. Why did Mr. Larkin wake up the captain? 4. What did they discover on a cake of ice, floating out to sea? 5. Who went to their rescue? 6. What did the captain say to the rowers of the boat? 7. What did Mr. Larkin say to them? 8. Did they finally succeed in rescuing the children? 9. How came the two boys to be on that cake of ice? 10. What did Mr. Larkin say, when the captain asked him how he felt?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXIII.

A DORN' ED, decorated; embellished.
SPOILS, booty; prey.
ANT' LERS, branching horns.
SUS PEND' ED, hung; atatched.
DIS TRACT' ED, disturbed; disordered.
FU' GI TIVE, runaway; wanderer.
BE SET', hemmed in; surrounded.
TRAI' TORS, betrayers.
HEATH, place overgrown with shrubs.
LIEGE, lord; sovereign.
LOY' AL, true; faithful.
FE' AL TY, loyalty; fidelity.
MA' TRON, married woman.
REC OG NIZ' ED, knew; recollected.
IN VAD' ERS, persons invading.

ROBERT BRUCE AND THE SCOTCH WOMAN.

ANON.

1. Many years ago, an old Scotch woman sat alone, spinning by the kitchen fire, in her little cottage. The room was adorned with the spoils of the chase, and many implements of war and hunting. There were spears, bows and arrows, swords, and shields; and, against the side of the room, hung a pair of huge antlers, once reared on the lordly brow of a "stag of ten," [Footnote: That is, a stag ten years old. The age of the animal is known by the number of prongs or tines, each year one new prong being added.] on which were suspended skins, plaids, bonnets, and one or two ponderous battle-axes.

2. The table, in the middle of the floor, was spread for supper, and some oatmeal cakes were baking before the fire. But the dame was not thinking of any of _these things_, nor of her two manly sons, who, in an adjoining room, were busily preparing for the next day's sport.

3. She was thinking of the distracted state of her native land, and of the good king, Robert Bruce, a fugitive in his own kingdom, beset, on every hand, by open enemies and secret traitors. "Alas!" thought she, "to-night I dwell here in peace, while to-morrow may see me driven out into the heath; and even now our king is a wanderer, with no shelter for his weary limbs."

4. A loud knock at the door broke in upon her musings. She rose, trembling with fear, to unbar the entrance, and beheld a man closely muffled in a cloak. "My good woman," said he, "will you grant a poor traveler the shelter of your roof to-night'?"

5. "Right willingly will I," said she; "for the love of _one_, for whose sake all travelers are welcome here." 6. "For whose sake is it that you make all wanderers welcome?" asked the stranger.

7. "For the sake of our good king, Robert Bruce, who, though he is now hunted like a wild beast, with horn and hound, I trust yet to see on the throne of Scotland!"

8. "Nay, then, my good woman," replied the man, "since you love him so well, know that you see him now _I_ am Robert Bruce."

9. "_You'!_--are _you_ our king'?" she inquired, sinking on her knees, and reverently kissing his hand; "where, then, are your followers, and why are you thus alone?"

10. "I have no followers now," replied Bruce, "and am, therefore, compelled to travel alone."

11. "Nay, my liege," exclaimed the loyal dame, "that you shall do no longer; for here are my two sons, whom I give to you, and may they long live to serve and defend your majesty!"

12. The Scottish youths bent their knees, and took the oath of fealty; and then, sitting beside the fire, the king entered into conversation with his new retainers, while their mother was busied in preparing the evening meal.

13. Suddenly, they were startled by the tramp of horses' hoofs, and the voices of men. "'_Tis the English!_" shouted the matron, "_fight to the last, my sons, and defend your king!_" But, at this moment, the king recognized the voices of Lord James, of Douglas, and of Edward Bruce, and bade them have no fear.

14. Bruce was overjoyed at meeting with his brother, and his faithful friend Douglas, who had with them a band of one hundred and fifty men. He bade farewell to the brave and loyal woman, and, taking with him her two sons, left the place.

15. The two young Scots served Bruce well and faithfully, and were high officers in his service when, at the head of a conquering army, he drove the English invaders from the soil of Scotland, and rendered her again a _free and independent kingdom_.

QUESTIONS.--1. Describe the room in which the Scotch woman resided. 2, What is meant by a "_stag of ten?_" 3. Who did the stranger prove to be? 4. Who joined Bruce? 5. What did Bruce and his men then do?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXIV.

PROS PER' ITY, success; good fortune.
DIG' NI FIES, elevates; ennobles.
SUS TAIN' ED, endured; suffered.
AD VERS' I TY, calamity; misfortune.
UN ERR' ING, sure; certain.
FOR LORN', forsaken; wretched.
CAN' O PY, covering overhead.
EI DER DOWN, fine, soft feathers from the eider-duck.
DE VOID', destitute.
IM MERS' ED, inwrapped; sunk.
GOS' SA MER Y, like gossamer; filmy.
RE COIL' ED, started back.
FOIL' ED, frustrated; defeated.
RO MANCE', fiction.
TRIV' I AL, small; trifling.
CON FIDE', trust; believe.
AD' VERSE, contrary; opposite.
PALM, token of victory.

ROBERT BRUCE AND THE SPIDER.

BERNARD BARTON.

1. Not in _prosperity's broad light_,
Can reason justly scan
The _sterling worth which_, viewed aright,
_Most dignifies the man_.
Favored at once by wind and tide,
The skillful pilot well may guide
The bark in safety on;
Yet, when his harbor he has gained,
He who no conflict hath sustained,
No meed has fairly won.

2. But in _adversity's dark hour_
_Of peril and of fear,_
When clouds above the vessel lower,
With scarce one star to cheer;
When winds are loud, and waves are high,
And ocean, to a timid eye,
Appears the seaman's grave;
Amid the conflict, calm, unmoved,
By truth's unerring test is proved
_The skillful and the brave._

3. For Scotland and her freedom's right
The Bruce his part had played;
_In five successive fields of fight_
_Been conquered and dismayed._
_Once more, against the English host_
_His band he led, and once more lost_
_The meed for which he fought;_
And now, from battle faint and worn,
The homeless fugitive forlorn
A hut's lone shelter sought.

4. And cheerless was that resting-place
For him who claimed a throne;
His canopy, devoid of grace,--
The rude, rough beams alone;
The heather couch his only bed,
Yet well I know had slumber fled
From couch of eider down;
Through darksome night to dawn of day,
Immersed in wakeful thought he lay,
Of Scotland and her crown.

5. The sun rose brightly, and its gleam
Fell on that hapless bed,
And tinged with light each shapeless beam
Which roofed the lowly shed;
When, looking up with wistful eye,
The Bruce beheld a spider try
His filmy thread to fling
From beam to beam of that rude cot;
And well the insect's toilsome lot
Taught Scotland's future king.

6. Six times his gossamery thread
The wary spider threw:
In vain the filmy line was sped;
For, powerless or untrue,
Each aim appeared and back recoiled
The patient insect, _six times foiled_,
And yet unconquered still;
And soon the Bruce, with eager eye,
Saw him prepare once more to try
His courage, strength, and skill.

7. _One effort more, the seventh and last_,--
The hero hailed the sign!
And on the wished-for beam hung fast
The slender, silken line.
Slight as it was, his spirit caught
The more than omen; for his thought
The lesson well could trace,
Which even "he who runs may read,"
That _perseverance gains its meed_,
And _patience wins the race_.

8. Is it a tale of mere romance'?
Its moral is the same,--
A light and trivial circumstance'?
Some thought, it still may claim.
Art thou a father'? teach thy son
Never to deem that _all is done_,
While _aught remains untried_;
To hope, though every hope seems crossed,
And when his bark is tempest-tossed
Still calmly to confide.

9. Hast thou been long and often foiled
(<) By adverse wind and seas'?
And vainly struggled, vainly toiled,
For what some win with ease'?
Yet bear up heart, and hope, and will,
Nobly resolved to struggle still,
With patience persevere;
Knowing, when darkest seems the night,
The dawn of morning's glorious light
Is swiftly drawing near.

10. Art thou a Christian? shall the frown
Of fortune cause dismay'?
The Bruce but won an _earthly crown_,
Which long hath passed away;
For thee a _heavenly crown_ awaits;
For thee are oped the pearly gates,--
Prepared the deathless palm:
But bear in mind that _only those_
_Who persevere unto the close,_
_Can join in Victory's psalm_.

QUESTIONS.--1. Will smooth seas and favoring gales make a skillful mariner? 2. What will make skillful and brave men? 3. In what respect is adversity better than prosperity? 4. What story illustrates this fact? 5. How many times did the spider try, before it succeeded? 6. In how many battles had Bruce been defeated? 7. What important lesson is taught youth? 8. What encouragement is given to the Christian?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXV.

PA' TRI OT' IC, having love of country.
OB SER VA' TION, remark, expression.
POP' U LAR, well received; prevailing.
E QUAL' I TY, sameness of social position.
AUD' I BLE, that may be heard.
DE TER' MIN ED, fully resolved.
HES' I TATE, scruple.
BRA' VO, well done.
BROILS, wrangles; quarrels.
RENOWN' ED, famed; celebrated.
O' DI OUS, hateful; offensive.
COUNT' ESS, wife of a count or earl.
FAG-END', the meaner part.
NO BIL' I TY, noble rank.
BUR LESQUE', (_burlesk',_) ridicule.
HE RED' I TA RY, coming by descent.
CON' STI TUTES, forms; composes.
APH' O RISMS, precepts; maxims.
TEM' PO RA RY, continuing for a time.
BECK, sign with the hand; nod.

[Headnote 1: LA VA' TER, (John Gaspar,) a celebrated physiognomist, that is, one skilled in the art of determining character by the external features, born in Zurich, in 1741.]

That part of this dialogue uttered by Caroline, should be read in a very earnest and spirited style,--that uttered by Horace in a more grave, deliberate, and candid manner.

WEALTH AND FASHION.

_Caroline_. What a pity it is that we are born under a Republican government!

_Horace_. Upon my word, Caroline, that is a patriotic observation for an American.

_Caroline_. Oh, I know that it is not a _popular_ one! We must all join in the cry of liberty and equality, and bless our stars that we have neither kings nor emperors to rule over us, and that our very first audible squeak was republicanism. If we don't join in the shout, and hang our caps on liberty-poles, we are considered monsters. For my part, I am _tired_ of it, and am determined to _say what I think_. I _hate_ republicanism; I hate liberty and equality; and I don't hesitate to _declare_ that I am for monarchy. You may laugh, but I would say it at the stake.

_Horace_. Bravo, Caroline! You have almost run yourself out of breath. You deserve to be prime minister to the king.

_Caroline_. You mistake; I have no wish to mingle in political broils, not even if I could be as renowned as Pitt or Fox; but I must say, I think our equality is _odious_. What do you think! To-day, the new chamber-maid put her head into the door, and said, "Caroline, your marm wants you!"

_Horace_. _Excellent!_ I suppose if ours were a _monarchical_ government, she would have bent to the ground, or saluted your little foot, before she spoke.

_Caroline_. No, Horace; you _know_ there are no such forms in this country.

_Horace_. May I ask your highness what you _would_ like to be?

_Caroline_. I should like to be a countess.

_Horace_. Oh, you are moderate in your ambition! A countess, now-a-days, is the fag-end of nobility.

_Caroline_. Oh! but it sounds so delightfully,--_"The young Countess Caroline!"_

_Horace_. If _sound_ is all, you shall have that pleasure; we will call you _the young countess_.

_Caroline_. That would be mere burlesque, Horace, and would make one ridiculous.

_Horace_. Nothing can be more inconsistent in us, than aiming at titles.

_Caroline_. For _us_, I grant you; but, if they were _hereditary,_ if we had been born to them, if they came to us through belted knights and high-born dames, _then_ we might be proud to wear them. I never shall cease to regret that I was not born under a monarchy.

_Horace_. You seem to forget that all are not lords and ladies in _royal_ dominions. Suppose you should have drawn your first breath among the _lower classes_,--suppose it should have been your lot to crouch and bend, or be trodden under foot by some titled personage, whom in your heart you despised; what then?

_Caroline_. You may easily suppose that I did not mean to take _those_ chances. No; I meant to be born among the _higher_ ranks.

_Horace_. Your own reason must tell you, that _all_ can not be born among the _higher ranks_; for then the _lower ones_ would be wanting, which constitute the comparison. Now, Caroline, is it not better to be born under a government where there are no such ranks, and where _the only nobility is talent and virtue'?_

_Caroline_. Talent and virtue! I think _wealth_ constitutes our nobility, and the right of abusing each other, our liberty.

_Horace_. You are as fond of aphorisms as Lavater[Headnote 1] was.

_Caroline_. Let me ask you if our rich men, who ride in their own carriages, who have fine houses, and who count by millions, are not our _great_ men?

_Horace_. They have all the greatness that _money_ can buy; but this is very limited.

_Caroline_. Well, in _my_ opinion, _money is power_.

_Horace_. You mistake. Money may be _temporary power_, but _talent_ is _power itself_; and, _when united with virtue, is godlike power_, before which the mere man of millions quails.

_Caroline_. Well, Horace, I really wish you the possession of _talent_, and _principle_, and _wealth_ into the bargain. The latter, you think, will follow the two former, simply at your beck;--you smile; but _I_ feel as determined in _my_ way of thinking, as _you_ do in _yours_.

QUESTIONS.--1. What is the subject of this dialogue? 2. What did Caroline regret? 3. What reply did Horace make? 4. What did Caroline wish to be? 5. What did Horace say constituted true nobility?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXVI.

RE SERV'ING, keeping; retaining.
AC CU' MU LA TED, collected.
IN DIG NA' TION, angry feeling.
RE SOURC' ES, means; funds.
DIS SER TA' TION, discourse; essay.
EX PAN' SION, enlargement.
DE POS' IT ED, put; laid.
EX ER' TION (_egs er shun_,) effort.
JU DI' CIOUS, wise, prudent.
VO CA' TION, business; employment.
EU PHON' IC, agreeable; well-sounding.
CO TEM' PO RA RIES, those living at the same time.
DI GRES' SION, departure from the subject.
PRE DIC' TIONS, prophecies.
IM PELL' ED, driven forward.

AR IS TOC' RA CY, (ARISTO, _the best_; CRACY, _government_,)
government by the best, or nobles. See SANDERS' ANALYSIS,
page 200, Ex. 283.

[Headnote 1: SOC' RA TES, the most celebrated philosopher of antiquity, was born at Athens, 470 years before Christ. The purity of his doctrines, and his independence of character, rendered him popular with the most enlightened Athenians, though they created him many enemies. He was _falsely accused_, arraigned, and condemned to drink _hemlock_, the juice of a poisonous plant. When the hour to take the poison had come, the executioner handed him the cup, with tears in his eyes. Socrates received it with composure, drank it with unaltered countenance, and, in a few moments, expired.]

[Headnote 2: DE MOS' THE NES, a great Grecian orator, who, rather than fall into the hands of his enemies, destroyed himself by taking poison. It is said that, when a youth, he frequently declaimed on the sea-shore, while the waves were roaring around him, in order to secure a large compass of voice, and to accustom himself to the tumult of a popular assembly.]

[Headnote 3: KING DA' VID, the sweet singer and poet of Israel. For the interesting account of his triumph over Goliath, the great champion of the Philistines, see I Sam., chap. 17.]

MY FIRST JACK-KNIFE.

1. I remember it well! Its horn handle, so smooth and clear, glowing with the unmeaning, but magic word, "_Bunkum;_" and the blade significantly inviting you to the test, by the two monosyllables, "_Try me_."

2. I know not how it is, but I never could take half the comfort in any thing which I have since possessed, that I took in this _jack-knife_. I earned it myself; and, therefore, I had a feeling of independence; it was bought with my _own money_,--not teazed out of my uncle, or still kinder father,--_money_ that I had silently earned on the afternoons of those days set apart for boys to amuse themselves.

3. Yes! with a spirit of persevering industry and self-denial, at which I now wonder, I went, every afternoon, during "berry-time," and picked the ripened fruit with eagerness; for my heart was in the task. I sold my berries, and, carefully reserving the proceeds, shortly accumulated enough to purchase the treasure, for which I so eagerly longed.

4. I went to one of the village-stores, and requested the clerk to show me his jack-knives; but he, seeing that I was only a boy, and thinking that I merely meant to amuse myself in looking at the nicest, and wishing it was mine, told me not to plague him, as he was otherwise engaged.

5. I turned with indignation; but I felt the inward comfort of a man who has _confidence_ in his own resources, and knows he has the power in his own hands. I quietly jingled the money in my pockets, and went to the opposite store. I asked for jack-knives, and was shown a lot fresh from the city, which were temptingly laid down before me, and left for me to select one, while the trader went to another part of his store to wait upon an older customer. I looked over them, opened them, breathed upon the blades, and shut them again.

6. One was too hard to open, another had no spring; finally, after examining them with all the judgment which, in my opinion, the extent of the investment required, I selected one with a hole through the handle; and, after a dissertation with the owner upon jack-knives in general, and _this one_ in particular,--upon hawk-bill, and dagger-blades,--and handles, iron, bone, and buck-horn,--I succeeded in closing a bargain.

7. I took the instrument I had purchased, and felt a sudden expansion of my boyish frame! It was my world! I deposited it in my pocket among other valuables,--twine, marbles, slate-pencils, &c. I went home to my father; I told him how long I had toiled for it, and how eagerly I had spent time, which others had allotted to play, to possess myself of my treasure.

8. My father gently chided me for not telling him of my wants; but I observed his glistening eye turn affectionately to my mother and then to me, and I thought that his manly form seemed to straighten up and to look prouder than I had ever before seen him. At any rate, he came to me, and, patting my curly head, told me there was no object in life, which was reasonably to be desired, that _honesty, self-denial, well-directed industry_, and _perseverance_ would not place within my reach; and if, through life, I carried the spirit of independent exertion into practice, which I had displayed in the purchase of the jack-knife, I should become a "_great man_."

9. From that moment, I was a new being. I had discovered that I could _rely upon myself_. I took my jack-knife, and many a time, while cutting the walnut-saplings for my bow, or the straight pine for my arrow, or carving my mimic ship, did I muse upon these words of my father,--so deeply are the kind expressions of a judicious parent engraven on the heart and memory of boyhood.

10. My knife was my constant companion. It was my carpenter, my ship-builder, and my toy-manufacturer. It was out upon all occasions, never amiss, and always "handy;" and, as I valued it, I never let it part from me. I own my selfishness; I would divide my apples among my playmates, my whole store of marbles was at their service,--they might knock my bats, kick my foot-ball as they chose; but I had no partnership of enjoyments in my jack-knife. Its possession was connected in my mind with something so _exclusive_, that I could not permit another to take it for a moment. Oh! there is a wild and delicious luxury in one's boyish anticipations and youthful day-dreams!

11. If, however, the _use_ of my jack-knife afforded me pleasure, the idea of its possession was no less a source of enjoyment. I was, for the time being, a little prince among my fellows,--a perfect monarch. Let no one exclaim against aristocracy; were we all perfectly _equal to-day_, there would be an _aristocracy to-morrow_. Talent, judgment, skill, tact, industry, perseverance, will place some on the top, while the contrary attributes will place others at the bottom of fortune's ever-revolving wheel!

12. The plowman is an aristocrat, if he excels in his vocation: he is an aristocrat, if he turns a better or a straighter furrow than his neighbor. The poorest poet is an aristocrat, if he writes more feelingly, in a purer language, or with more euphonic jingle than his cotemporaries. The fisherman is an aristocrat, if he wields his harpoon with more skill, and hurls it with a deadlier energy than his messmates, or has even learned to fix his bait more alluringly on his barbed hook.

13. All _have_ had, and _still_ have their foibles; all have some possession, upon which they pride themselves, and I was proud of my jack-knife! Spirit of Socrates, [Headnote 1] forgive me! was there no pride in dying like a philosopher'? Spirit of Demosthenes, [Headnote 2] forgive me! was there no pride in your addresses to the boundless and roaring ocean'? Spirit of David! [Headnote 3] was there no pride in the deadly hurling of the smooth pebble, which sank deep into the forehead of your enemy'?

14. But I must take my jack-knife and _cut short_ this digression. Let no man say _this_ or _that_ occurrence "will make _no difference fifty years hence_,"--a common, but dangerous phrase. I am _now_ a man of three-score years. I can point my finger _here_ to my ships, _there_ to my warehouse. My name is well known in two hemispheres. I have drank deeply of intellectual pleasures, have served my country in many important stations, have had my gains and my losses.

15. I have seen many, who started with fairer prospects, but with no compass, wrecked before me; but I have been impelled in my operations, no matter how extensive, by the _same spirit_ which conceived and executed the purchase of the jack-knife. And I have found my reward in it; and, perhaps, in after years, there will be those who will say that the predictions of my father were fulfilled in their case; and that, from _small beginnings_, by "_honesty, self-denial, well-directed industry_, and _perseverance_," they also, BECAME TRULY "GREAT MEN."

QUESTIONS.--1. How did this boy obtain his first jack-knife? 2. What did his father say to him, when he told how he had earned it? 3. What use did he make of his knife? 4. What is said about _aristocracy_? 5. What is said of this boy when he came to be three-score years old?

* * * * *

LESSON XXXVII.

COIN' ED, stamped.
BAR' TER, trade; exchange.
COM MOD' I TIES, goods; wares.
BULL'ION, uncoined silver or gold.
BUC' CA NEERS, pirates; freebooters.
IM MENSE', very great; enormous.
DAIN' TIES, delicacies.
SMALL-CLOTHES, breeches.
AT TIR' ED, dressed; arrayed.
PE' ONY, plant and beautiful flower.
PER' SON A BLE, handsome; graceful.
ES PE' CIAL LY, mainly; chiefly.
RE CEP' TA CLE, that which receives or holds.
PON' DER OUS, heavy; bulky.
RE SUM' ING, taking again.

THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS.

1. Captain John Hull was the mint-master of Massachusetts, and coined all the money that was made there. This was a new line of business; for, in the earlier days of the colony, the current coinage consisted of gold and silver money of England, Portugal, and Spain.

2. These coins being scarce, the people were often forced to barter their commodities, instead of selling them. For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he, perhaps, exchanged a bear-skin for it. If he wished for a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with a pile of pine-boards. Musket-bullets were used instead of farthings.

3. The Indians had a sort of money, called _wampum_, which was made of clam-shells; and this strange sort of specie was, likewise, taken in payment of debts, by the English settlers. Bank-bills had never been heard of. There was not money enough of any kind, in many parts of the country, to pay the salaries of the ministers; so that they sometimes had to take quintals of fish, bushels of corn, or cords of wood, instead of silver or gold.

4. As the people grew more numerous, and their trade one with another increased, the want of current money was still more sensibly felt. To supply the demand, the general court passed a law for establishing a coinage of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Captain John Hull was appointed to manufacture this money, and was to have _one shilling_, out of every twenty, to pay him for the trouble of making them.

5. Hereupon, all the old silver in the colony was handed over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver cans, and tankards, and silver-buckles, and broken spoons, and silver-buttons of worn-out coats, and silver hilts of swords that had figured at courts,--all such curious old articles were, doubtless, thrown into the melting-pot together. But by far the greater part of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines of South America, which the English buccaneers, (who were little better than pirates,) had taken from the Spaniards, and brought to Massachusetts.

6. All this old and new silver being melted down and coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Each had the date, 1652, on the one side, and the figure of a _pine-tree_ on the other. Hence, they were called _pine-tree shillings_. And, for every _twenty shillings_ that he coined, you will remember, Captain John Hull was entitled to put _one shilling_ into his own pocket.

7. The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mint-master would have the best of the bargain. They offered him a large sum of money, if he would but give up that _twentieth shilling_, which he was continually dropping into his own pocket. But Captain Hull declared himself perfectly satisfied with the shilling. And well he might be; for, so diligently did he labor, that, in a few years, his pockets, his money-bags, and his strong box, were overflowing with pine-tree shillings. This was probably the case when he came into possession of Grandfather's chair; and, as he had worked so hard at the mint, it was certainly proper that he should have a comfortable chair to rest himself in.

8. When the mint-master had grown very rich, a young man, Samuel Sewell by name, fell in love with his only daughter. His daughter, whom we will call Betsey, was a fine, hearty damsel, by no means so slender as some young ladies of our own days. As Samuel was a young man of good character, industrious in his business, and a member of the church, the mint-master very readily gave his consent.

9. "Yes; you may take her," said he, in his rough way; "and you'll find her a heavy burden enough!" On the wedding-day, we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed himself in a plum-colored coat, all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree shillings. The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences; and the knees of his small-clothes were buttoned with silver threepences.

10. Thus attired, he sat with great dignity in Grandfather's chair; and, being a portly old gentleman, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. On the opposite side of the room, between her bridemaids, sat Miss Betsey, blushing like a full-blown peony.

11. There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine purple coat, and gold-lace waistcoat, with as much other finery as the Puritan laws and customs would allow him to put on. His hair was cropped close to his head, because Governor Endicott had forbidden any man to wear it below the ears. But he was a very personable young man; and so thought the bridemaids and Miss Betsey herself.