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 lieIn the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain.SECOND VOICE.O doubting heart!They only sleep belowThe 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 raysThese many days;Will dreary hours never leave the earth?SECOND VOICE.O doubting heart!The stormy clouds on highVail 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 lightIs 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.
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.
T.B. READ.
1. Autumn's sighing,Moaning, dying,Clouds are flyingOn like steeds;While their shadowsO'er the meadows.Walk like widowsDecked in weeds.2. Red leaves trailing,Fall unfailing,Dropping, sailing,From the wood,That, unpliant,Stands defiant,Like a giantDropping blood.3. Winds are swellingRound our dwelling,All day tellingUs their woe;And, at vesper,Frosts grow crisper,As they whisperOf the snow.4. From th' unseen land,Frozen inland,Down from Greenland,Winter glides,Shedding lightnessLike the brightnessWhen moon-whitenessFills the tides.5. Now bright Pleasure'sSparkling measuresWith rare treasuresOverflow!With this gladnessComes what sadness!Oh, what madness,Oh, what woe!6. Even meritMay inheritSome bare garret,Or the ground;Or, a worse ill,Beg a morselAt some door-sill,Like a hound.7. Storms are trailing,Winds are wailing,Howling, railing,At each door.'Midst this trailingHowling, railing,List the wailingOf 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 wordsautumn'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.
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.Wellwere it then, if thine aching browWere as free from sin and shame as now!Wellfor thee, if thy lip could tellA tale like this, ofa 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 theeWith 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 wordHath 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 byeve to a longer day, third verse? 5. What, byquiet 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 onrestless one, first verse? See page 32, Note I. 8. What rule for the falling inflection onplaying, second verse? See page 29, Rule II. 9. What rule for the rising inflections in the fourth verse? Rule V., page 31.
NORTH-EAST' ERS, north-east winds.EX HAUST' ED, (xlikegz,) 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.
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: "anddon'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 inthybosom 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?
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.
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 ofthese 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 ofone, 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 nowIam Robert Bruce."
9. "You'!—areyouour 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 afree 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?
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.
BERNARD BARTON.
1. Not inprosperity's broad light,Can reason justly scanThesterling worth which, viewed aright,Most dignifies the man.Favored at once by wind and tide,The skillful pilot well may guideThe bark in safety on;Yet, when his harbor he has gained,He who no conflict hath sustained,No meed has fairly won.2. But inadversity's dark hourOf 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 provedThe skillful and the brave.3. For Scotland and her freedom's rightThe Bruce his part had played;In five successive fields of fightBeen conquered and dismayed.Once more, against the English hostHis band he led, and once more lostThe meed for which he fought;And now, from battle faint and worn,The homeless fugitive forlornA hut's lone shelter sought.4. And cheerless was that resting-placeFor 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 fledFrom 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 gleamFell on that hapless bed,And tinged with light each shapeless beamWhich roofed the lowly shed;When, looking up with wistful eye,The Bruce beheld a spider tryHis filmy thread to flingFrom beam to beam of that rude cot;And well the insect's toilsome lotTaught Scotland's future king.6. Six times his gossamery threadThe wary spider threw:In vain the filmy line was sped;For, powerless or untrue,Each aim appeared and back recoiledThe patient insect,six times foiled,And yet unconquered still;And soon the Bruce, with eager eye,Saw him prepare once more to tryHis courage, strength, and skill.7.One effort more, the seventh and last,—The hero hailed the sign!And on the wished-for beam hung fastThe slender, silken line.Slight as it was, his spirit caughtThe more than omen; for his thoughtThe lesson well could trace,Which even "he who runs may read,"Thatperseverance gains its meed,Andpatience 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 sonNever to deem thatall is done,Whileaught remains untried;To hope, though every hope seems crossed,And when his bark is tempest-tossedStill 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 lightIs swiftly drawing near.10. Art thou a Christian? shall the frownOf fortune cause dismay'?The Bruce but won anearthly crown,Which long hath passed away;For thee aheavenly crownawaits;For thee are oped the pearly gates,—Prepared the deathless palm:But bear in mind thatonly thoseWho 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?
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.
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 apopularone! 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 amtiredof it, and am determined tosay what I think. Ihaterepublicanism; I hate liberty and equality; and I don't hesitate todeclarethat 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 isodious. 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 amonarchicalgovernment, she would have bent to the ground, or saluted your little foot, before she spoke.
Caroline. No, Horace; youknowthere are no such forms in this country.
Horace. May I ask your highness what youwouldlike 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. Ifsoundis all, you shall have that pleasure; we will call youthe 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. Forus, I grant you; but, if they werehereditary,if we had been born to them, if they came to us through belted knights and high-born dames,thenwe 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 inroyaldominions. Suppose you should have drawn your first breath among thelower 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 takethosechances. No; I meant to be born among thehigherranks.
Horace. Your own reason must tell you, thatallcan not be born among thehigher ranks; for then thelower oneswould 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 wherethe only nobility is talent and virtue'?
Caroline. Talent and virtue! I thinkwealthconstitutes 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 ourgreatmen?
Horace. They have all the greatness thatmoneycan buy; but this is very limited.
Caroline. Well, inmyopinion,money is power.
Horace. You mistake. Money may betemporary power, buttalentispower 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 oftalent, andprinciple, andwealthinto the bargain. The latter, you think, will follow the two former, simply at your beck;—you smile; butIfeel as determined inmyway of thinking, asyoudo inyours.
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?
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 wasfalsely accused, arraigned, and condemned to drinkhemlock, 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.]
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 thisjack-knife. I earned it myself; and, therefore, I had a feeling of independence; it was bought with myown money,—not teazed out of my uncle, or still kinder father,—moneythat 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 hasconfidencein 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, andthis onein 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, thathonesty, self-denial, well-directed industry, andperseverancewould 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 couldrely 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 soexclusive, 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, theuseof 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 perfectlyequal to-day, there would be anaristocracy 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. Allhavehad, andstillhave 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 andcut shortthis digression. Let no man saythisorthatoccurrence "will makeno difference fifty years hence,"—a common, but dangerous phrase. I amnowa man of three-score years. I can point my fingerhereto my ships,thereto 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 thesame spiritwhich 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, fromsmall beginnings, by "honesty, self-denial, well-directed industry, andperseverance," 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 aboutaristocracy? 5. What is said of this boy when he came to be three-score years old?