What is glory`? What is fame`?The echo of a long-lost name`;A breath`, an idle hour's brief talk`;The shadow of an arrant naught`;A flower that blossoms for a day`,Dying next morrow';A stream that hurries on its way,Singing of sorrow';A fortune that to lose were gain`;A word of praise, perchance of blame`;The wreck of a time-bandied name`—Ay` this is glory`! this is fame`!
Ah! well do we all know the worth of intelligence, the power of knowledge, and the beauty and glory of wisdom. It iseducated manhoodthat wakes up the sleeping soil, covers the earth with good, that gathers in the golden harvest, that clothes the naked, that feeds the hungry. It is thecultivated mindthat applies the strength of the ox and the fleetness of the horse; that bridges the river, that turns to use the flying winds, that makes the lightning its swift messenger, that makes beautiful palaces of dull clay, that rouses the dead ore to active life, that covers the sea with ships, and the land with mighty engines of wealth. It is thedeveloped intellectthat flies through the upper air, that mingles with the stars, that follows the moon in her course, that overtakes the constellations in their orbits, that weighs the sun, that measures the distance to the polar star. It is theenlightened soulthat worships God.
MRS. OPIE.
1. There's not a leaf within the bower;There's not a bird upon the tree;There's not a dew-drop on the flower,But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee.2. Thy hand the varied leaf designed,And gave the bird its thrilling tone;Thy power the dewdrop's tints combined,Till like the diamond's blaze they shone.3. Yes, dewdrops, leaves, and buds, and allThe smallest, like the greatest things,—The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball,Alike proclaim Thee King of kings.4. But man alone to bounteous Heaven,Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise;To favored man alone 'tis givenTo join the angelic choir in praise!
MO NOT' O NOUS, dull; uniform.HAR POON', barbed spear.AG' I TA TED, disturbed.RE VER' BER ATES, rebounds; re-echoes.WRITHES, twists, or turns in agony.CON TOR' TIONS, twistings; writhings.VE LOC' I TY, swiftness.IG NITES', takes fire.FRIC' TION, rubbing together.COILS, winds into a ring.PRO JECT' ED, thrown out or forward.VO CIF' ER A TED, shouted.IN FU' RI A TED, enraged.UN RE LENT' ING, unfeeling.CON VUL' SIONS, violent spasms.REN COUN' TER, fight; conflict.
1. Let the reader suppose himself on the deck of a South-seaman, cruising in the North Pacific ocean. He may be musing over some past event, the ship may be sailing gently along over the smooth ocean, every thing around solemnly still, with the sun pouring its intense rays with dazzling brightness. Suddenly the monotonous quietude is broken by an animated voice from the masthead, exclaiming,"There he spouts!"
2. The captain starts on deck in an instant, and inquires"Where away?"but, perhaps, the next moment every one aloft and on deck, can perceive an enormous whale lying about a quarter of a mile from the ship, on the surface of the sea, having just come up to breathe,—his large "hump" projecting three feet out of the water. At the end of every ten seconds, the spout is seen rushing from the fore part of his enormous head, followed by the cry of every one on board, who join in the chorus of"There again!"keeping time with the duration of the spout.
3. But, while they have been looking, a few seconds have expired. They rush into the boats, which are directly lowered to receive them; and in two minutes from the time of first observing the whale, three or four boats are down, and are darting through the water with their utmost speed toward their intended victim, perhaps accompanied with a song from the headsman, who urges the quick and powerful plying of the oar, with the common whaling chant of
"Away, my boys, away, my boys, 'tis time for us to go."
4. But, while they are rushing along, the whale is breathing; they have yet, perhaps, some distance to pull before they can get a chance of striking him with the harpoon. His "spoutings are nearly out," he is about to descend, or he hears the boats approaching. The few sailors left on board, and who are anxiously watching the whale and the gradual approach of the boats, exclaim,"Ah, he is going down!"Yet he spouts again, but slowly, the water is seen agitated around him; the spectators on board with breathless anxiety think they perceive him rising in preparation for his descent."He will be lost!"they exclaim; for the boats are not yet near enough to strike him, and the men are still bending their oars in each boat with all their strength, to claim the honor of the first blow with the harpoon.
5. The bow-boat has the advantage of being the nearest to the whale; the others, for fear of disturbing the unconscious monster, are now ordered to drop astern. One more spout is seen slowly curling forth,—it is his last; but the boat shoots rapidly alongside of the gigantic creature."Peak your oars!"exclaims the mate, and directly they flourish in the air; the glistening harpoon is seen above the head of the harpooner. In an instant it is darted with unerring force and aim, and is buried deeply in the side of the huge animal. It is "socket up;" that is, it is buried in his flesh up to the socket which admits the handle or pole of the harpoon.
6. A cheer from those in the boats, and from the seamen on board, reverberates along the still deep at the same moment. The sea, which a moment before was unruffled, now becomes lashed into foam by the immense strength of the wounded whale, which, with its vast tail, strikes in all directions at his enemies. Now his enormous head rises high into the air, then his flukes are seen lashing everywhere, his huge body writhes in violent contortions from the agony the harpoon has inflicted. The water all around him is a mass of foam, and the sounds of the blows from his tail on the surface of the sea, can be heard for miles!
7."Stern all!"cries the headsman; but the whale suddenly disappears; he has "sounded;" the line is running through the groove at the head of the boat, with lightning-like velocity; it smokes; it ignites from the heat produced by the friction; but the headsman, cool and collected, pours water upon it as it passes. But an oar is now held up in their boat; it signifies that their line is rapidly running out; two hundred fathoms are nearly exhausted; up flies one of the other boats, and "bends on" another line, just in time to save that which was nearly lost.
8. But still the monster descends; he is seeking to rid himself of his enemies by descending deeply into the dark and unknown depths of the vast ocean. Two more lines are exhausted,—he issix hundred fathoms deep! "Stand ready to bend on!"cries the mate to the fourth boat; (for sometimes they take the whole four lines away with them,—eight hundred fathoms!!) but, it is not required, he is rising."Haul in the slack!"observes the headsman, while the boat-steerer coils it again carefully into the tubs as it is drawn up.
9. The whale is now seen approaching the surface; the gurgling and bubbling water which rises, proclaims that he is near; his nose starts from the sea; the rushing spout is projected high and suddenly, from his agitation. The slack of the line is now coiled in the tubs, and those in the fast boat, haul themselves gently toward the whale. The boat-steerer places the headsman close to the fin of the trembling animal, who immediately buries his long lance in the vitals of the leviathan, while, at the same moment, those in one of the other boats, dart another harpoon into his opposite side. Then,"Stern all!"is again vociferated, and the boats shoot rapidly away from the danger.
10. Mad with the agony which he endures from these fresh attacks, the infuriated "sea monster" rolls over and over, and coils an amazing length of line around him. He rears his enormous head, and, with wide-expanded jaws, snaps at every thing around him. He rushes at the boats with his head,—they are propelled before him with vast swiftness, and sometimes utterly destroyed.
11. He is lanced again,—and his pain appears more than he can bear. He throws himself, in his agony, completely out of his element; the boats are violently jerked, by which one of the lines is snapped asunder; at the same time the other boat is upset, and its crew are swimming for their lives. The whale is now free! he passes along the surface with remarkable swiftness, "going head out;" but the two boats that have not yet "fastened," and are fresh and free, now give chase.
12. The whale becomes exhausted from the blood which flows from his deep and dangerous wounds, and the two hundred fathoms of line belonging to the overturned boat, which he is dragging after him through the water, checks him in his course; his pursuers again overtake him, and another harpoon is darted and buried deeply in his flesh.
13. The fatal lance is, at length, given; the blood gushes from the nostrils of the unfortunate animal in a thick, black stream, which stains the clear blue water of the ocean to a considerable distance around the scene of the affray. The immense creature may now again endeavor to "sound," to escape from his unrelenting pursuers; but he is powerless. He soon rises to the surface, and passes slowly along until the death-pang seizes him, when his appearance is awful in the extreme.
14. Suffering from suffocation, or from the stoppage of some important organ, the whole strength of his enormous frame is set in motion, for a few seconds, when his convulsions throw him into a hundred different contortions of the most violent description, by which the sea is beaten into foam, and boats are sometimes crushed to atoms, with their crews.
15. But this violent action being soon over, the now unconscious animal passes rapidly along, describing in his rapid course the segment of a circle; this is his "flurry," which ends in his sudden dissolution. The mighty rencounter is finished. The gigantic animal rolls over on his side, and floats an inanimate mass on the surface of the crystal deep,—a victim to the tyranny and selfishness, as well as a wonderful proof of thegreat power of the mind of man.
QUESTIONS.—1. How are whales generally discovered? 2. Why do they come to the surface of the water? 3. How far do they sometimes descend in the ocean? 4. Describe the manner in which they are captured.
A'ER O NAUT, one who sails in the air.RE DOUB LED, repeated.MAG NIF I CENT, grand; splendid.EL' E VA TED, raised; excited.GON' DO LA, small boat.BE GIRT', surrounded.RO TA RY, turning; revolving.IN TEN' SI TY, extreme degree.A' ER OS TAT, air-balloon.IN TER MI NA BLE, boundless.VA' RI E GA TED, diversified; varied.VERG' ING, tending; inclining.OB LIQUE' LY, slantingly.RES PI RA' TION, act of breathing.ZE' NITH, point in the heavens directly over head.MAN' DI BLES, jaws.EU ROC' LY DON, tempestuous wind.
WILLIS GAYLORD CLARK.
1. My hour had now come, and I entered the car. With a singular taste, the band struck up, at this moment, the melting air of "Sweet Home." It almost overcame me. A thousand associations of youth, friends, of all that I must leave, rushed upon my mind. But I had no leisure for sentiment. A buzz ran through the assemblage; unnumbered hands were clapping, unnumbered hearts beating high; andIwas the cause. Every eye was upon me. There was pride in the thought.
2. "Let go!" was the word. The cheers redoubled; handkerchiefs waved from many a fair hand; bright faces beamed from every window, and on every side. One dash with my knife, and I rose aloft, a habitant of air. How magnificent was the sight which now burst upon me! How sublime were my sensations! I waved the flag of my country; the cheers of the multitude from a thousand housetops, reached me on the breeze; and a taste of the rarer atmosphere elevated my spirits into ecstasy.
3. The city, with a brilliant sunshine striking the spires and domes, now unfolded to view a sight incomparably beautiful. My gondola went easily upward, cleaving the depths of heaven like a vital thing. A diagram placed before you, on the table, could not permit you to trace more definitely than I now could, the streets, the highways, basins, wharves, and squares of the town. The hum of the city arose to my ear, as from a vast bee-hive; and I seemed the monarch-bee, directing the swarm.
4. I heard the rattling of carriages, the heartyyo-heavo-s!of sailors from the docks that, begirt with spars, hemmed the city round. I was a spectator of all, yet aloof, and alone. Increasing stillness attended my way; and, at last, the murmurs of earth came to my ear like the vast vibrations of a bell. My car tilted and trembled, as I rose. A swift wind sometimes gave the balloon a rotary motion, which made me deathly sick for a moment; but strong emotion conquered all my physical ailings.
5. My brain ached with the intensity of my rapture. Human sounds had fainted from my ear. I was in the abyss of heaven, andalonewith my God. I could tell my direction by the sun on my left; and, as his rays played on the aerostat, it seemed only a bright bubble, wavering in the sky, and I, a suspended mote, hung by chance to its train. Looking below me, the distant Sound and Long Island appeared to the east; the bay lay to the south, sprinkled with shipping; under me, the city, girded with bright rivers and sparry forests.
6. The free wind was on my cheek, and in my locks; afar, the ocean rolled its long, blue waves, checkered with masses of shadow, and gushes of ruby sunlight; to the north and west, the interminable land, variegated like a map, dotted with purple, and green, and silver, faded to the eye. The atmosphere which I now breathed, seemed to dilate my heart at every breath. I uttered some audible expressions. My voice was weaker than the faintest sound of a reed. There was no object near to make it reverb or echo.
7. My barometer now denoted an immense hight; and, as I looked upward and around, the concave above seemed like a mighty waste of purple air, verging to blackness. Below, it was lighter; but a long, lurid bar of cloud stretched along the west, temporarily excluding the sun. The shadows rushed afar into the void, and a solemn, Sabbath twilight reigned around. I was now startled by a fluttering in my gondola. It was my carrier-pigeon. I had forgotten him entirely. I attached a string to his neck, with a label, announcing my hight, then nearly four miles, and the state of the barometer.
8. As he sat on the side of the car, and turned his tender eyes upon me in mute supplication, every feather shivering with apprehension, I felt that it was a guilty act to push him into the waste beneath. But it was done; he attempted to rise, but I out-sped him; he then fell obliquely, fluttering and moaning, till I lost him in the haze. My greatest altitude had not yet been reached. I was now five miles fromterra firma. [Footnote: Solid earth.] I began to breathe with difficulty. The atmosphere was too rare for safe respiration.
9. I pulled my valve-cord to descend. It refused to obey my hand. For a moment I was horror-struck. What was to be done? If I ascended much higher, the balloon would explode. I threw over some tissue paper to test my progress. It is well known that this willrisevery swiftly. Itfell, as if blown downward by a wind from the zenith. I was going upward like an arrow. I attempted to pray, but my parched lips could not move. I seized the cord again, with desperate energy. Blessed Heaven! it moved.
10. I threw out more tissue. It rose to me like a wing of joy. I was descending. Though far from sunset, it was now dark about me, except a track of blood-red haze in the direction of the sun. I encountered a strong current of wind; mist was about me; it lay like dew upon my coat. At last, a thick bar of vapor being past, what a scene was disclosed! A storm was sweeping through the sky, nearly a mile beneath; and I looked down upon an ocean of rainbows, rolling in indescribable grandeur, to the music of the thunder-peal, as it moaned afar and near, on the coming and dying wind.
11. A frightened eagle had ascended through the tempest, and sailed for minutes by my side, looking at me with panting weariness, and quivering mandibles, but with a dilated eye, whose keen iris flashed unsubdued. Proud emblem of my country! As he fanned me with his heavy wing, and looked with a human intelligence at the car, my pulse bounded with exulting rapture. Like the genius of my native land, he had risen above every storm, unfettered and FREE.
12. But my transports were soon at an end. He attempted to light on the balloon, and my heart sunk; I feared his huge claws would tear the silk. I pulled my cord; he rose, as I sank, and the blast swept him from my view in a moment. A flock of wild-fowl, beat by the storm, were coursing below, on bewildered pinions; and, as I was nearing them, I knew I was descending. A breaking rift now admitted the sun. The rainbows tossed and gleamed; chains of fleecy rack, shining in prismatic rays of gold, and purple, and emerald, "beautiful exceedingly," spread on every hand.
13. Vast curtains of clouds pavilioned the immensity, brighter than celestial roses; masses of mist were lifted on high, like strips of living fire, more radiant than the sun himself, when his glorious noontide culminates from the equator. A kind of aërial Euroclydon now smote my car, and three of the cords parted, which tilted my gondola to the side, filling me with terror. I caught the broken cords in my hand, but could not tie them.
14. The storm below was now rapidly passing away, and beneath its waving outline, to the south-east, I saw the ocean. Ships were speeding on their course, and their bright sails melting into distance; a rainbow hung afar; and the rolling anthems of the Atlantic came like celestial hymnings to my ear. Presently all was clear below me. The fresh air played around. I had taken a noble circuit; and my last view was better than the first, I was far over the bay, "afloating sweetly to the west." The city, colored by the last blaze of day, brightened remotely to the view.
15. Below, ships were hastening to and fro through the Narrows, and the far country lay smiling like an Eden. Bright rivers ran like ribbons of gold and silver, till they were lost in the vast inland, stretching beyond the view; the gilded mountains were flinging their purple shadows over many a vale; bays were blushing to the farewell day-beams; and now I was passing over a green island. I sailed to the mainland; saw the tall, old trees waving to the evening breeze; heard the rural lowing of herds, and the welcome sound of human voices; and, finally, sweeping over forest-tops and embowered villages, at last, descended with the sun, among a kind-hearted, surprised, and hospitable community, in as pretty a town as one could desire to see, "safe and well."
QUESTIONS.—1. What demonstrations were made by the people as the aeronaut began to ascend? 2. How did the city and other objects appear to him? 3. What could he hear? 4. Describe the appearance of the ocean. 5. What did he do with his carrier-pigeon? 6. How high did he ascend? 7. Describe his descent. 8. What is said about the eagle that came near him? 9. Describe the appearance of the clouds beneath him.
BOUN' TY, charity; favor.FRU' GAL, prudent; economical.FLOUR' ISH ED, thrived; prospered.DIS CHARG' ED, performed.BREED' ING, education.EM BRAC' ED, accepted.MAIN TAIN' ED, supported.TRUDG' ED, traveled.BE GUIL' ED, amused.LE' GAL, lawful.TWAIN, two.BE WITCH' ING, charming.YOUNK' ER, lad; youngster.MED' I TA TIVE, thoughtful.PRO VOK' ED, (PRO,forward, forth; VOKED,called;) called forth; excited.IN CLUDE', (IN,in; CLUDE,shut;) shut in; inclose.IN SERT', (IN,in; SERT,join, set;) join, or set in; put in.
JOHN G. SAXE.
1. "Once on a time," as ancient tales declare,There lived a farmer in a quiet dellIn Massachusetts, but exactly where,Or when, is really more than I can tell,—Except that quite above the public bounty,He lived within his means and Bristol county.2. By patient labor and unceasing care,He earned, and so enjoyed, his daily bread;Contented always with his frugal fare,Ambition to be rich ne'er vexed his head;And thus unknown to envy, want, or wealth,He flourished long in comfort, peace, and health.3. The gentle partner of his humble lot,The joy and jewel of his wedded life,Discharged the duties of his peaceful cot,Like a true woman and a faithful wife;Her mind improved by thought and useful reading,Kind words and gentle manners showed her breeding.4. Grown old, at last, the farmer called his son,The youngest, (and the favorite I suppose,) And said,—"I long have thought, my darling John,'Tis time to bring my labors to a close;So now to toil I mean to bid adieu,And deed, my son, the homestead-farm to you."5. The boy embraced the boon with vast delight,And promised, while their precious lives remained,He'd till and tend the farm from morn till night,And see his parents handsomely maintained;God help him, he would never fail to love, norDo aught to grieve his gen'rous old gov'nor.6. The farmer said,—"Well, let us now proceed,(You know there's always danger in delay,)And get 'Squire Robinson to write the deed;Come,—where's my staff?—we'll soon be on the way."But John replied, with tender, filial care,"You're old and weak—I'll catch the Dapple Mare."7. The mare was saddled, and the old man got on,The boy on foot trudged cheerfully along,The while, to cheer his sire, the duteous sonBeguiled the weary way with talk and song.Arrived, at length, they found the 'Squire at home,And quickly told him wherefore they had come.8. The deed was writ in proper form of law,With many a "foresaid," "therefore," and "the same,"And made throughout without mistake or flaw,To show that John had now a legal claimTo all his father's land—conveyed, given, sold,Quit-claimed, et cetera,[Footnote 1]—to have and hold.9. Their business done, they left the lawyer's door,Happier, perhaps, than when they entered there;And started off as they had done before,—The son on foot, the father on the mare.But ere the twain a single mile had gone,A brilliant thought occurred to Master John.10. Alas for truth!—alas for filial duty!—Alas that Satan in the shape of pride,(His most bewitching form save that of beauty,)Whispered the lad—"My boy, you ought to ride!""Get off!" exclaimed the younker—"'t isn't fairThat you should always ride the Dapple Mare!"11. The son was lusty, and the sire was old,And so, with many an oath and many a frown,The hapless father did as he was told;The man got off the steed, the boy got on,And rode away as fast as she could trot,And left his sire to trudge it home on foot!12. That night, while seated round the kitchen fireThe household sat, cheerful as if no wordOr deed, provoked the injured father's ire,Or aught to make him sad had e'er occurred,—Thus spoke he to his son: "We quite forgot,I think, t'include that little turnip lot!"13. "I'm very sure, my son, it wouldn't hurt it,"Calmly observed the meditative sire,"To take the deed, my lad, and just insert it;"Here the old man inserts it—in the fire!Then cries aloud with most triumphant air,"Who now, my son, shall ride the Dapple Mare?"
[Footnote 1: And so forth.]
QUESTIONS.—1. What proposition did the father make to his son? 2. What did the son promise to do? 3. How did the son treat his father after he got the deed? 4. What did the old gentleman do?
HARD' I HOOD, bravery.MAIN TRUCK, small cap at the top of a flagstaff or masthead.A GHAST', horrified.GROUPS, clusters; crowds.PAL' LID, pale.LU' RID, dismal; gloomy.HUE, color.RIV' ET TED, firmly fixed.FOLD' ED, embraced; clasped.
GEORGE P. MORRIS.
1. Old Ironsides at anchor lay,(sl.) In the harbor of Mahon[1];A dead calm rested on the bay,—The waves to sleep had gone,—When little Jack,[2] the captain's son,With gallant hardihood,Climbed shroud and spar,—and then uponThe main-truck rose and stood!2. A shudder ran through every vein,—All eyes were turned on high!There stood the boy, with dizzy brain,Between the sea and sky!No hold had he above,—below,Alone he stood in air!At that far hight none dared to go,—No aid could reach him there.3. We gazed,—but not a man could speak;With horror all aghast,In groups, with pallid brow and cheek,We watched the quivering mast!The atmosphere grew thick and hot,And of a lurid hue,As, riveted unto the spot,Stood officers and crew.4. The father came on deck. He gasped,"O God, Thy will be done!"Then suddenly a rifle grasped,And aimed it at his son!"Jump far out, boy, into the wave!Jump, or I fire!" he said."That only chance your life can save:('') Jump! jump, boy!" He obeyed.5. He sank,—he rose,—he lived,—he moved,—He for the ship struck out!On board we hailed the lad belovedWith many a manly shout.His father drew, in silent joy,Those wet arms round his neck,Then folded to his heart the boy,And fainted on the deck!
[Footnote 1: MA HON', (Ma hone,) a sea-port town on the island of Minorca, in the Mediterranean Sea.]
[Footnote 2: A name commonly applied to a young sailor.]
QUESTIONS.—1. What did the captain's son do, on board the Ironsides? 2. Describe his situation. 3. What is said of the officers and crew? 4. What did the father say and do? 5. What did the boy do?
COM MIN' GLE, mix or unite.PE DES' TRI AN, traveler on foot.PROM' I NENT, important.TRAG' lC, fatal; mournful.NAR RATE', tell; relate.YORE, olden time.WI' LY, craft; cunning.RE LENT' LESS, hard-hearted; cruel.WIG' WAM, Indian hut or cabin.EM BARK' ED, went aboard.TWANG, quick, sharp sound.SPA' CIOUS, large; capacious.WA' RI LY, cautiously.MYS TE' RI OUS LY, strangely.OM' IN OUS, foreboding ill.IM PLA' CA BLE, relentless.UN TRACE' A BLE, (UN,not; TRACE,mark; ABLE,that can be;) that can not be marked, or traced; not found out.
L.M. STOWELL.
1. In the State of New York, where the dark, foaming waters of the Black River, after roaring and surging through many pleasant fields, beautiful groves, and dense woodlands, commingle with the clear, cold waters of Lake Ontario, the wandering pedestrian or the lone fisherman may see, resting upon a gravelly flat, the remains of anold Indian canoe, whose once beautiful proportions, now untraceable in its rottenness, bore a prominent part in the tragic event I am about to narrate.
2. Through these pleasant valleys, among the broken hills, and in the majestic forests, of yore, the wily Indian and his dusky mate, held undisputed possession; and many are the incidents, yet unwritten, of tragic and thrilling interest, that transpired around the red men's camp-fire, ere the white man disturbed their forest homes.
3. Si öus' ka, or the "Wild Flower," was the daughter of a powerful chief of the Onondagas, and the only being ever known to turn the relentless old chief from a savage purpose. Something of this influence was owing to her great beauty; but more to the gentleness of which that beauty was the emblem. Her downcast eye, her trembling lip, her quiet, submissive motion, all bespoke its language; and many were the young chieftains that sought to win her affections.
4. Among her admirers were two young chiefs of the Oneidas, with whom the Onondagas were on the most friendly terms. Si öus' ka's father, in order to cherish the friendly feeling of the two tribes, and, at the same time, strengthen his power, besought her to accept the more powerful chief, "Eagle Eye." He did not plead in vain; for she had long loved the young Oneida.
5. One bright sunny morning, in early spring, as the old chief was out hunting, the young Oneida crossed his path, upon which the old man advanced, and, laying his hand upon his shoulder, pointed to the dwelling of Si öus' ka. Not a word was spoken. The proud old man and the strong, young chief proceeded toward her wigwam, and entered together.
6. Si öus' ka was seated in one corner, engaged upon some fancy basket-work, and did not notice their approach until they had entered. The old chief looked upon her with an expression of love, which his stern countenance never wore except in her presence. "Siöus'ka," he said in a subdued tone, "Go to the wigwam of the Oneida, that your father's tribe may be strengthened, and many moons may shine upon their peace and prosperity."
7. There was mingled joy and modesty in the upward glance of the "Wild Flower" of the Onondagas, and, when the young chief saw the light of her mild eye suddenly and timidly vailed by its deeply-fringed lid, he knew that her love had lost none of its power. The marriage song was soon sung in the royal wigwam, in which the sweet voice of Siöus'ka was happily heard to mingle.
8. When the rejected chief of the Oneidas heard that the "Wild Flower" had mated with the "Eagle Eye," his wrath knew no bounds, and he secretly resolved upon revenge. Two years passed away, and, as yet, no good opportunity had arrived; for he dared not attack "Eagle Eye" in open conflict, for fear of his superior powers; and, assassin-like, he sought to give the blow unperceived.
9. At length, the spring came, and a number of the tribe prepared to visit Lake Ontario, on a fishing and hunting excursion. Among the number who went, were the "Eagle Eye," Siöus'ka, and their little boy. They were obliged to carry their light, birchen canoes from home, and these were packed with the necessary tackle, skins for beds, &c. The strong men of the party carried the canoes on their shoulders, and the women the smaller articles of furniture.
10. They had advanced across the country, until they reached the Black River, and, by carrying their canoes around falls and rapids, gently floated down the stream till they reached the great falls, about six miles from the Lake. Here they halted for the night, and encamped about half a mile above the falls.
11. The morning came; and, as the first beam of the rising sun pierced the forest shade, the party again embarked in their canoes for the mouth of the river, the gaudy canoe of Si ous' ka, which her father had given her, taking the lead. They had scarcely started from the shore, ere the sharp twang of a bow-string was heard from the shore, and an unerring arrow pierced the heart of "Eagle Eye." He fell over the side of the canoe, and was swept by the current over the great falls.
12. The party immediately started in pursuit of the coward murderer; but they sought in vain. His hiding-place was too sure,—he had taken refuge in a cave, the entrance of which was hid from observation by a thick clump of cedars. Here he remained till he was certain the company had departed. This cave is still there, and I have often been in its many chambers,—some of which are very spacious.
13. The fatal shaft was winged from the bow of the revenged Oneida chief. Having been apprised of the expedition, he had warily dogged the steps of the party, until a favorable opportunity presented itself, and then satisfied his secret longing for revenge upon the enemy, whom he did not dare to attack even-handed. The party sought him far and near; but, as no trace of any one could be found, they imagined, with superstitious fear, that the "Great Spirit" had thus summoned "Eagle Eye" to the "Spirit's Hunting Ground."
14. When they returned to their canoes, no traces of Si ous' ka and her child were to be found. They, too, had mysteriously disappeared, and the whole party, with ominous silence, hastened around the falls, and away from the fearful place. When Si ous' ka saw the fatal shaft pierce her companion, with, a fearful shriek she fell into the bottom of the canoe, hid herself in the furs, and immediately her reason forsook her.
15. When she recovered, she found that her canoe, urged on by the current, had floated into a large cave, and was firmly wedged in between two rocks; and her little boy, with his bow and arrow in his hand, was quietly sleeping by her side. Dislodging the canoe, she plied the oars, and was soon outside the cave.
16. On finding her people had left her, she sought the shore, and, fastening the canoe, proceeded below the falls, where she found the body of the ill-fated "Eagle Eye," where it had washed ashore. With superhuman strength, she bore the mangled body to a thick grove of cedars, and, with her own hands, dug a rude grave, and covered his remains with dried leaves and earth. That night she kept her lonely watch beside the grave of all that she held dear on earth, save her boy, intending to follow the party on the morrow.
17. The morning came, and the mid-day sun began to descend toward the western hills, ere she left the grave of the murdered chief. But, at length, she sorrowfully departed; and, on arriving where she moored the canoe the day before, what was her surprise to see the murderer of her husband, quietly sleeping upon the skins where last "Eagle Eye" had reposed, in the bow of the canoe.
18. From that moment Si öus' ka was changed. Her quiet, submissive air immediately gave place to fierce sternness, and the eye that had always beamed with the smile of love, shot forth flashes of bitter hate and passion, implacable as the most bloodthirsty of her tribe. Noiselessly throwing the oars from the boat, with a wild shriek, she quickly swung it around into the rapidly rolling current, and it was hurried toward the brink of that awful cataract, over which no living being had ever passed alive.
19. The young chief, awakened by that fearful, exulting cry of revenge, and seeing the peril of his situation, leaped from the bark that was hurrying him to sure destruction, and vainly sought to gain the shore. After struggling with the swift tide for a moment, in which he was carried nearer and nearer the awful brink, he turned, and, with a wild, unearthly yell, plunged over, and the boiling waters only responded to his death-wail, as he sunk to rise no more, and his spirit joined that of his victim in the "Spirit Land."
20. After the gentle "Wild Flower" had avenged the death of the "Eagle Eye," she returned to her father's wigwam, and spent the remainder of her life to the memory of her heart's first devotion. The canoe, all battered and broken, floated to the mouth of the river, bottom side up, where it was seen by one of the party while fishing, drawn to the shore, and left to decay. The party supposed that "Eagle Eye," Sious'ka, and her child, had all perished in some mysterious manner.
QUESTIONS.—1. Who was Sious'ka? 2. Who became her husband? 3. What effect had her marriage upon the rejected Oneida chief? 4. In what way did he seek revenge? 5. How did Sious'ka avenge the death of her husband?
EN TER TAIN' ED, had; harbored.PE CUL IAR' I TY, something special.CHA GRIN'ED, (sha grin'ed,) vexed.MOR' TI FI ED, hurt in feeling.OUT STRIP', go beyond; excel.RI' VAL RY, emulation.RE VERS' ES, troubles; difficulties.IN VIG' OR A TED, made strong.DES O LA' TION, waste; ruin.REF' UGE, shelter; protection.SYM' PA THIZ ED, (SYM,with; PATH,feeling; IZE,make, have; ED,did;) did have feeling with. See Note on the suffix IZE, p. 132 of the ANALYSIS.
[Headnote 1: SIS' ER A, captain of the army of the Canaanitish king, Jabin. He was utterly defeated by Barak. Fleeing on foot, he took refuge in the tent of Jael, wife of Heber. There, while asleep, Jael drove a nail through his temples, and so he died. His mother, finding he did not return from the battle, "looked out at a window, and cried through the lattice, Why is his chariot so long in coming?" Read 4th and 5th chapters of Judges.]
ALBERT BARNES.
1. Many of us who are advanced beyond the period of childhood, went out from home to embark on the stormy sea of life. Of the feelings of a father, and of his interest in our welfare, we have never entertained a doubt, and our home was dear because he was there; but there was a peculiarity in the feeling that it was the home of our mother. Whereshelived, there was a place that we felt washome. There wasone placewhere we would always be welcome,one placewhere we would be met with a smile,one placewhere we would be sure of a friend.
2. The world might be indifferent to us. We might be unsuccessful in our studies or our business. The new friends which we supposed we had made, might prove to be false. The honor which we thought we deserved, might be withheld from us. We might be chagrined and mortified by seeing a rival outstrip us, and bear away the prize which we sought. But therewasa place where no feelings of rivalry were found, and where those whom the world overlooked, would be sure of a friendly greeting. Whether pale and wan by study, care, or sickness, or flushed with health and flattering success, we weresurethat we should be welcome there.
3. Though the world was cold toward us, yet there wasonewho always rejoiced in our success, and always was affected in our reverses; and there was aplaceto which we might go back from the storm which began to pelt us, where we might rest, and become encouraged and invigorated for a new conflict. So have I seen a bird, in its first efforts to fly, leave its nest, and stretch its wings, and go forth to the wide world. But the wind blew it back, and the rain began to fall, and the darkness of night began to draw on, and there was no shelter abroad, and it sought its way back to its nest, to take shelter beneath its mother's wings, and to be refreshed for the struggles of a new day; but then it flew away to think of its nest and its mother no more.
4. But not thus did we leave our home when we bade adieu to it to go forth alone to the manly duties of life. Even amidst the storms that then beat upon us, and the disappointments that we met with, and the coldness of the world, we felt still that therewas onewho sympathized in our troubles, as well as rejoiced in our success, and that, whatever might be abroad, when we entered the door of her dwelling, we should be met with a smile. We expected that a mother, like the mother of Sisera[Headnote 1], as she "looked out at her window," waiting for the coming of her son laden with the spoils of victory, would look out forourcoming, and thatourreturn would renew her joy and ours in our earlier days.
5. It makes a sad desolation when, from such a place, a mother is taken away, and when, whatever may be the sorrows or the successes in life, she is to greet the returning son or daughter no more. The home of our childhood may be still lovely. The old family mansion—the green fields—the running stream—the moss-covered well—the trees—the lawn—the rose—the sweet-brier—may be there. Perchance, too, there may be an aged father, with venerable locks, sitting in his loneliness, with every thing to command respect and love; but she is not there. Her familiar voice is not heard. The mother has been borne forth to sleep by the side of her children who went before her, and the place is not what it was.
6. There may be those there whom we much love; butsheis not there. We may have formed new relations in life, tender and strong as they can be; we may have another home, dear to us as was the home of our childhood, where there is all in affection, kindness, and religion, to make us happy; butthathome is not what it was, and it willneverbe what it was again. It is a loosening of one of the cords which bound us to earth, designed to prepare us for our eternal flight from every thing dear here below, and to teach us that there isnoplace here, that is to be our permanent home.
QUESTIONS.—1. What renders home doubly endearing? 2. Where are we always welcome? 3. Who always rejoices in our successes, and is affected in our reverses? 4. Who was Sisera, and what account is given of him?