1. What kind of vehicle did the Deacon build? What was his theory as to building a "shay"?2. How did he carry out his theory? Read the passages that answer this question. Make a list of the special parts of the chaise named.3. On what day did the Deacon complete his task? Is Holmes correct as to the dates of Braddock's defeat and the Lisbon earthquake?4. Explain lines 10-11, page 286; 8, 17, 27, page 289; 17, page 290.5. What happened finally to the "masterpiece"? Was the Deacon still living? How did the chaise happen to go to pieces? Was the Deacon's theory of building correct?6. Suggested readings: Holmes's "How the Old Horse Won the Bet"; Lowell's "The Courtin'."
1. What kind of vehicle did the Deacon build? What was his theory as to building a "shay"?
2. How did he carry out his theory? Read the passages that answer this question. Make a list of the special parts of the chaise named.
3. On what day did the Deacon complete his task? Is Holmes correct as to the dates of Braddock's defeat and the Lisbon earthquake?
4. Explain lines 10-11, page 286; 8, 17, 27, page 289; 17, page 290.
5. What happened finally to the "masterpiece"? Was the Deacon still living? How did the chaise happen to go to pieces? Was the Deacon's theory of building correct?
6. Suggested readings: Holmes's "How the Old Horse Won the Bet"; Lowell's "The Courtin'."
The time of this story is post-Revolutionary. Ichabod Crane, a lean, awkward schoolmaster, has been courting the village belle, Katrina Van Tassel, his rival being Brom Bones, a powerful fellow, noted for his pugnacity. He has frequently threatened Ichabod for aspiring to the charming Katrina. Here, Ichabod, at a late hour, is leaving the Van Tassel home after a "quilting frolic" where he took occasion to propose to Katrina. Judge of the young lady's answer!
The time of this story is post-Revolutionary. Ichabod Crane, a lean, awkward schoolmaster, has been courting the village belle, Katrina Van Tassel, his rival being Brom Bones, a powerful fellow, noted for his pugnacity. He has frequently threatened Ichabod for aspiring to the charming Katrina. Here, Ichabod, at a late hour, is leaving the Van Tassel home after a "quilting frolic" where he took occasion to propose to Katrina. Judge of the young lady's answer!
Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued histravel homewards, along the sides of the lofty hillswhich rise above Tarrytown. The hour was as dismal ashimself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its duskyand indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the5tall mast of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under theland. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hearthe barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore of theHudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give anidea of his great distance from this faithful companion of10man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of acock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off,from some farmhouse away among the hills. No signs oflife occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholychirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog15from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortablyand turning suddenly in his bed.
The night grew darker and darker, the stars seemed tosink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hidthem from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and20dismal. In the center of the road stood an enormous tuliptree, which towered like a giant above all the other treesof the neighborhood and formed a kind of landmark. Itwas connected with the tragical story of the unfortunateAndré, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and was5universally known by the name of Major André's Tree.The common people regarded it with a mixture of respectand superstition.
As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began towhistle. He thought his whistle was answered. It was10but a blast sweeping through the dry branches. As heapproached a little nearer, he thought he saw somethingwhite hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused andceased whistling; but on looking more narrowly, perceivedthat it was a place where the tree had been scathed by15lightning and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he hearda groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote againstthe saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough uponanother as they were swayed about by the breeze. Hepassed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him.20
About two hundred yards from the tree a small brookcrossed the road and ran into a marshy and thickly woodedglen, known by the name of Wiley's Swamp. A few roughlogs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream.To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this25identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured,and this has ever since been considered a haunted stream,and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has topass it alone after dark.
As he approached the stream his heart began to thump.30He summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave hishorse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted todash briskly across the bridge. But instead of startingforward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movementand ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fearsincreased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other sideand kicked lustily with the contrary foot. It was all in5vain. His steed started, it is true, but it was only toplunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket ofbrambles and alder bushes.
The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heelupon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed10forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand justby the bridge with a suddenness which had nearly sent hisrider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment aplashy tramp on the bank of the stream, by the side ofthe bridge, caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the15dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the murmuringbrook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, andtowering. It stirred not, but seemed gathering up in thegloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon thetraveler.20
The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his headwith terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was nowtoo late. Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, hedemanded, in stammering tones, "Who are you?" Hereceived no reply.25
He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice.Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sidesof the inflexible Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, brokeforth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just thenthe shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a30scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road.
Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form ofthe unknown might now, in some degree, be ascertained.He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions andmounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He madeno offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof onone side of the road. Ichabod, who had no relish for this5strange midnight companion, now quickened his steed inhopes of leaving him behind. The stranger quickenedhis horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up and fellinto a walk, thinking to lag behind. The other did thesame. His heart began to sink within him. He endeavored10to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove tothe roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave.
There was something in the moody and dogged silenceof this pertinacious companion that was mysterious andappalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On15mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of hisfellow traveler in relief against the sky, gigantic in heightand muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceivingthat he was headless! But his horror was still moreincreased on observing that the head which should have20rested on his shoulders was carried before him on thepommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation.He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder,hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion theslip. But the specter started full jump with him. Away25then they dashed, through thick and thin, stones flyingand sparks flashing at every bound.
An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopesthat the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflectionof a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that30he was not mistaken. "If I can but reach that bridge,"thought Ichabod, "I am safe." Just then he heard theblack steed panting and blowing close behind him; heeven fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsivekick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprangupon the bridge; he thundered over the resoundingplanks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod5cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish,according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Justthen he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the veryact of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored tododge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered10his cranium with a tremendous crash. He was tumbledheadlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed,and the goblin rider passed by like a whirlwind.
The next morning the old horse was found without hissaddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping15the grass at his master's gate, while near the bridge, onthe bank of a broad part of the brook where the waterran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunateIchabod, and close beside it—a shattered pumpkin!
—A Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
1. You should read the entire "Legend" (see Irving'sSketch Book) and enjoy the detailed incidents leading up to this climax. Of course Ichabod leaves Sleepy Hollow, never to return. What evidence is there that Brom Bones was the ghost?2. A ghost was supposed not to be able to cross running water. What evidence of this do you find in the story?3. Why was Ichabod "heavy-hearted and crestfallen"? Give two reasons.4. Pick out the elements of the first two paragraphs that make the situation appear lonely.5. Who was Major André? Why should Ichabod have especially feared the André tree?6. What is there in this selection that is humorous?
1. You should read the entire "Legend" (see Irving'sSketch Book) and enjoy the detailed incidents leading up to this climax. Of course Ichabod leaves Sleepy Hollow, never to return. What evidence is there that Brom Bones was the ghost?
2. A ghost was supposed not to be able to cross running water. What evidence of this do you find in the story?
3. Why was Ichabod "heavy-hearted and crestfallen"? Give two reasons.
4. Pick out the elements of the first two paragraphs that make the situation appear lonely.
5. Who was Major André? Why should Ichabod have especially feared the André tree?
6. What is there in this selection that is humorous?
"Another petition!" exclaimed the banker. "No, Inever sign them offhand—not any more. I used todo so—once to my sorrow and to the amusement of myfriends. Leave yours with me till day after to-morrow andI'll consider it. I have at least four more now on the waiting5list, ranging in subject from the Removal of a Soap Factoryto a Bridge Across the Pacific. Every business man ishounded week in and week out with petitions."
I reluctantly surrendered my long scroll with its formidablelist of signatures. "Buttheone that you once signed—what10of that?"
"Oh, that one? Well, there was a bright newsboy downon the square whose booth had been removed from a streetcorner because of a petition to the Police Commissioner.Of course everybody had signed the petition; for signing15petitions was considered the proper thing if certain namesheaded the list. It came to be a roster of the best familiesin town. This newsboy retaliated—in kind. He draftedand circulated a petition that was in due form. Everybody,including myself, signed it. Next day it was published in20full with the names of its signers, by all our city papers, andby night everybody in the state was laughing at us.
"The petition recited that a sundial in Central Park, thegift of a wealthy citizen, was weathering badly. It shouldbe protected. That sounded reasonable, so everybody25signed just below the name of everybody else. And whathad we petitioned for?A roof to cover that sundial!
"You'll get no hasty signatures to a petition in thiscity—we remember the sundial!"
IN TIME OF WARSoldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;Dream of battled fields no more,Days of danger, nights of waking. . . .Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,Dream of fighting fields no more;Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking,Morn of toil, nor night of waking.—Sir Walter Scott.
IN TIME OF WAR
Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;Dream of battled fields no more,Days of danger, nights of waking. . . .Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,Dream of fighting fields no more;Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking,Morn of toil, nor night of waking.—Sir Walter Scott.
A Modern Battle SceneA Modern Battle Scene
The armies of the world were contending on the battlefields of France in a death struggle, known in history as the World War. It was a mighty clash of ideas and ideals. Frazier Hunt, a war correspondent and journalist, selected the Little Rivers of France as a subject to carry his theme: that little things sometimes set apart great differences, and that littleness and greatness are not matters of physical size.
The armies of the world were contending on the battlefields of France in a death struggle, known in history as the World War. It was a mighty clash of ideas and ideals. Frazier Hunt, a war correspondent and journalist, selected the Little Rivers of France as a subject to carry his theme: that little things sometimes set apart great differences, and that littleness and greatness are not matters of physical size.
For miles along the hard white road that had helpedsave France a tiny river ran. But it was such a quietrace with life and time. It had no steep banks; only gentle,green, silent slopes that fell gracefully back from its edges.Here and there fragrant woods wandered almost to its5drowsy waters.
A cuckoo sounded its call, and far off its mate sentback the echo. On sun-splashed mornings the thrushcame, and in the moonlight the nightingale sang tothis little stream.10
It was a tiny river, and if in great America, only thecountryside that knew its winding ways could have toldits name. It was a brook for poets to dream by. Littleislands of willows, weeping for France, slept in its heart.One could almost whisper across it, and as a French schoolgirl15of fourteen wrote, "Birds could fly over it with onesweep of their wings. And on the two banks there weremillions of men, the one turned towards the other, eye toeye. But the distance which separated them was greaterthan the stars in the sky; it was the distance which separatesright from injustice."
It was a tiny river; it was the Yser.
Oxen drawing the cultivating plows that will help feedFrance and win the war almost splash into its shallow edges5as they turn the furrow. And on hot July days, the oldman who prods them with his pointed stick and the sturdywoman who handles the plow let them drink their fill ofits cooling waters—not plunging their noses deep likethirsty horses but gently drawing in the water with the lips,10after the manner of oxen.
It is a quiet stream that a child could ford without danger.It flows slowly and sweetly from the mother hills to theembracing sea. A few arched bridges leap from one lowbank to another. It has not cut deep into the land of15France but it has cut deep into the heart of France. It isone of the ribbons of victory and glory that France willalways wear across her breast. And it is a ribbon made redby the blood of the men of France who have died for France.
And yet we of America would call it a little stream, and20old men would fish all day in it from a shaded velvet point,and boys swimming would hunt some favorite Devil's Holewhere they might dive.
It is the Marne.
For four years now it has flowed peacefully on while25men have fought to scar its banks with trenches—burrowingthemselves into the earth as only the muskrat had donein the forgotten days of peace. Strong, unafraid men camefrom the ends of the world to die by its side. And it wouldhave gladly sung them a sweet, low lullaby, crooning a song30with which mothers on the shores of all the seven seas hadonce rocked them to sleep—only now the sound of heavyfiring, dull booms of the cannon, and the spit and nervousdrum of the machine gun, made its song as futile and indistinguishableas the whisper of a child in the roar of a mob.5
What a story its sweet waters had to tell to all the riversof the world when they met in the broad sea: a tale ofstrange men who fought and died that it might still be apart of France; a tale of deeds of glory and of valor andof sacrifice. And some of these men had come from faraway10America to this little river, this stream so tiny and somodest that it might have forever remained unknown andunsung.
It was the Somme.
After all, what does size matter—except the size of the15heart and of the soul?
The great Mississippi, the mystic Amazon, the majesticHudson, the wide Danube—all mighty in power and commerce!
The Yser, the Aisne, the Oise, the Somme, the Marne—little20streams of France; old brooks as precious as Thermopylæor Bunker Hill!
Tiny are they—and so was Bethlehem!
—Red Cross Magazine.
1. What three rivers are discussed? For what does each stand?2. Explain the French schoolgirl's letter. Which party, to her, represented justice?3. What great general is called the "Hero of the Marne"? Why?4. Why are Thermopylæ and Bunker Hill "previous"? Name some other "precious" places in the world.5. What lesson do you get from this selection?(Used by permission of theRed Cross Magazine.)
1. What three rivers are discussed? For what does each stand?
2. Explain the French schoolgirl's letter. Which party, to her, represented justice?
3. What great general is called the "Hero of the Marne"? Why?
4. Why are Thermopylæ and Bunker Hill "previous"? Name some other "precious" places in the world.
5. What lesson do you get from this selection?
(Used by permission of theRed Cross Magazine.)
Sir John Moore (1761-1809) was a British general. His last engagement was at the head of the British forces in Spain, fighting against Napoleon. Upon word that Napoleon with an army of 70,000 was marching against him, he decided to make for the coast with his 25,000 men. They were obliged to march for 250 miles over slippery mountain roads, and were forced into battle before they could embark. The French were repulsed with heavy losses, but Moore was fatally wounded. This fine poem describes his burial on that foreign shore.
Sir John Moore (1761-1809) was a British general. His last engagement was at the head of the British forces in Spain, fighting against Napoleon. Upon word that Napoleon with an army of 70,000 was marching against him, he decided to make for the coast with his 25,000 men. They were obliged to march for 250 miles over slippery mountain roads, and were forced into battle before they could embark. The French were repulsed with heavy losses, but Moore was fatally wounded. This fine poem describes his burial on that foreign shore.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;Not a soldier discharged his farewell shotO'er the grave where our hero we buried.We buried him darkly at dead of night,5The sods with our bayonets turning,By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,And the lantern dimly burning.No useless coffin inclosed his breast,Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;10But he lay like a warrior taking his restWith his martial cloak around him.Few and short were the prayers we said,And we spoke not a word of sorrow;But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,15And we bitterly thought of the morrow.We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bedAnd smoothed down his lonely pillow,That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head.And we far away on the billow.Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,5And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,In the grave where a Briton has laid him.But half of our heavy task was doneWhen the bell tolled the hour for retiring;10And we heard the distant and random gunThat the foe was sullenly firing.Slowly and sadly we laid him down,From the field of his fame fresh and gory;We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,15But we left him alone with his glory!
1. Give synonyms for: corse, ramparts, martial, upbraid, tolled, reck, gory, random.2. Describe this simple burial in your own words. What are the customary rites at a soldier's burial? Why did Sir John Moore not receive a military funeral?3. Compare this burial with the one described on page 329.4. Report briefly on Napoleon: who he was, what he did, and what finally became of him.5. Memorize the poem. Time yourself to see how quickly you can do this.
1. Give synonyms for: corse, ramparts, martial, upbraid, tolled, reck, gory, random.
2. Describe this simple burial in your own words. What are the customary rites at a soldier's burial? Why did Sir John Moore not receive a military funeral?
3. Compare this burial with the one described on page 329.
4. Report briefly on Napoleon: who he was, what he did, and what finally became of him.
5. Memorize the poem. Time yourself to see how quickly you can do this.
The Reverend William Emerson, grandfather of Ralph Waldo Emerson, was pastor of the Congregational Church at Concord. The battle of April 19, 1775, was fought near his residence. He was called the "patriot preacher" and died while serving in the Revolutionary army.
The Reverend William Emerson, grandfather of Ralph Waldo Emerson, was pastor of the Congregational Church at Concord. The battle of April 19, 1775, was fought near his residence. He was called the "patriot preacher" and died while serving in the Revolutionary army.
This morning between one and two o'clock we werealarmed by the ringing of the church bell, and uponexamination found that the troops, to the number of eighthundred, had stolen their march from Boston in boats andbarges from the bottom of the Common over to a point5in Cambridge near to Inman's farm, and were at Lexingtonmeetinghouse half an hour before sunrise, where they hadfired upon a body of our men, and as we afterward heard,had killed several. This intelligence was brought to us atfirst by Dr. Samuel Prescott, who narrowly escaped the10guard that were sent before on horses purposely to preventall posts and messengers from giving us timely information.He, by the help of a very fleet horse, crossing several wallsand fences, arrived at Concord at the time above mentioned,when several posts were immediately dispatched,15that, returning, confirmed the presence of the regulararmy at Lexington, and that they were on their way toConcord. Upon this a number of our minutemen belongingto this town and Acton and Lincoln, with several othersthat were in readiness, marched out to meet them.20
While the alarm company were preparing to meet themin the town, Captain Minot, who commanded them,thought it proper to take possession of the hill above themeetinghouse as the most advantageous situation. Nosooner had we gained it than we were met by the companythat were sent out to meet the troops, who informed us5they were just upon us and that we must retreat, as theirnumber was more than thribble to ours. We then retreatedfrom the hill near Liberty Pole and took a new postback of the town upon a rising eminence, where we formedinto two battalions and waited the arrival of the enemy.10Scarcely had we formed before we saw the British troopsat the distance of a quarter of a mile, glittering in arms,advancing toward us with the greatest celerity.
Some were for making a stand notwithstanding thesuperiority of their numbers, but others more prudent15thought best to retreat till our strength should be equalto the enemy by recruits from neighboring towns who werecontinually coming in to our assistance. Accordingly weretreated over the bridge; when the troops came into thetown, set fire to several carriages for the artillery, destroyed20sixty barrels of flour, rifled several houses, took possessionof the Town House, destroyed five hundred pounds ofball, set a guard of a hundred men at the North Bridge,and sent up a party to the house of Colonel Barrett, wherethey were in expectation of finding a quantity of warlike25stores; but these were happily secured just before theirarrival by transfer into the woods and other by-places.In the meantime, the guard set by the enemy to secure thepass at the North Bridge were alarmed by the approachof our people, who had retreated, as mentioned before,30and were now advancing with special orders not to fireupon the troops unless fired upon.
These orders were so punctually observed that we receivedthe fire of the enemy in three several and separatedischarges of their pieces before it was returned by ourcommanding officer. The firing then soon became generalfor several minutes, in which skirmish two were killed on5each side and several of the enemy wounded. It may herebe observed, by the way, that we were the more carefulto prevent beginning a rupture with the King's troops aswe were then uncertain what had happened at Lexingtonand knew not that they had begun the quarrel there by10first firing upon our party and killing eight men upon thespot. The British troops soon quitted their post at thebridge and retreated in great disorder and confusion to themain body, who were soon upon the march to meet them.For half an hour the enemy, by their marches and countermarches,15discovered great fickleness and inconstancy ofmind, sometimes advancing, sometimes returning to theirformer posts, till at length they quitted the town and retreatedby the way they came. In the meantime a party ofour men (one hundred and fifty) took the back way through20the great fields into the East Quarter and had placed themselvesto advantage, lying in ambush behind walls, fences,and buildings, ready to fire upon the enemy on their retreat.
—Journal.
1. This entry in Mr. Emerson's journal was made on the day of the Lexington-Concord battle. Give the date of it.2. What poem did the Reverend Mr. Emerson's grandson write about the battle of Concord? Bring it to class and read it.3. What famous ride is connected with this battle?4. Describe the fight. Was Mr. Emerson actually engaged in the battle? Give proof of your answer.
1. This entry in Mr. Emerson's journal was made on the day of the Lexington-Concord battle. Give the date of it.
2. What poem did the Reverend Mr. Emerson's grandson write about the battle of Concord? Bring it to class and read it.
3. What famous ride is connected with this battle?
4. Describe the fight. Was Mr. Emerson actually engaged in the battle? Give proof of your answer.
Robert Browning (1812-1889) is one of the great poets of England. The following incident of a simple French sailor performing a deed of heroism appealed to Browning's dramatic sense; hence this stirring ballad. The poem was written in 1871, when France was suffering defeat in the Franco-Prussian War. The proceeds from its sale (one hundred pounds) were contributed to French war sufferers.
Robert Browning (1812-1889) is one of the great poets of England. The following incident of a simple French sailor performing a deed of heroism appealed to Browning's dramatic sense; hence this stirring ballad. The poem was written in 1871, when France was suffering defeat in the Franco-Prussian War. The proceeds from its sale (one hundred pounds) were contributed to French war sufferers.
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundredninety-two,Did the English fight the French,—woe to France!And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks5pursue,Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the Rance,With the English fleet in view.'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in fullchase;10First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship,Damfreville;Close on him fled, great and small,Twenty-two good ships in all;And they signaled to the place—15"Help the winners of a race!Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick—or, quickerstill,Here's the English can and will!"Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt onboard."Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"laughed they."Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred5and scored,Shall theFormidablehere, with her twelve and eighty guns,Think to make the river mouth by the single narrow way,Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,And with flow at full beside?10Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide.Reach the mooring? Rather say,While rock stands or water runs,Not a ship will leave the bay!"Then was called a council straight.15Brief and bitter the debate:"Here's the English at our heels; would you have themtake in towAll that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow,For a prize to Plymouth Sound?20Better run the ships aground!"—(Ended Damfreville his speech)—"Not a minute more to wait!Let the captains all and eachShove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the25beach!France must undergo her fate."Give the word!" But no such wordWas ever spoke or heard;For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, amid all these—30A captain? A lieutenant? A mate—first, second, third?No such man of mark, and meetWith his betters to compete,But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for thefleet—5A poor coasting pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese.And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries HervéRiel."Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, orrogues?10Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings,tellOn my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell,'Twixt the offing here and Grève where the riverdisembogues?15Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying'sfor?Morn and eve, night and day,Have I piloted your bay,Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor.20Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse thanfifty Hogues!Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there'sa way!Only let me lead the line,25Have the biggest ship to steer;Get thisFormidableclear,Make the others follow mine,And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,Right to Solidor past Grève,30And there lay them safe and sound;And if one ship misbehave—Keel so much as grate the ground—Why, I've nothing but my life—here's my head!" criesHervé Riel.Not a minute more to wait."Steer us in, then, small and great!5Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried itschief."Captains, give the sailor place!He is admiral, in brief."Still the north wind, by God's grace!10See the noble fellow's faceAs the big ship, with a bound,Clears the entry like a hound,Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seasprofound!15See, safe through shoal and rock,How they follow in a flock,Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates theground,Not a spar that comes to grief!20The peril, see, is past,All are harbored to the last,And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"—sure as fate,Up the English come—too late!So the storm subsides to calm;25They see the green trees waveOn the heights o'erlooking Grève;Hearts that bled are stanched with balm."Just our rapture to enhance,Let the English rake the bay,30Gnash their teeth and glare askanceAs they cannonade away!'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!Out burst all with one accord,5"This is paradise for hell!Let France, let France's king,Thank the man that did the thing!"What a shout, and all one word,"Hervé Riel!"10As he stepped in front once more,Not a symptom of surpriseIn the frank blue Breton eyes,Just the same man as before.Then said Damfreville, "My friend,15I must speak out at the end,Though I find the speaking hard.Praise is deeper than the lips;You have saved the King his ships,You must name your own reward.20Faith, our sun was near eclipse!Demand whate'er you will,France remains your debtor still.Ask to heart's content and have!—or my name's notDamfreville."25Then a beam of fun outbrokeOn the bearded mouth that spoke,As the honest heart laughed throughThose frank eyes of Breton blue:"Since I needs must say my say,Since on board the duty's done—And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but arun?—Since 'tis ask and have, I may—5Since the others go ashore—?Come! A good whole holiday!Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"That he asked and that he got,—nothing more.Name and deed alike are lost:10Not a pillar nor a postIn his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;Not a head in white and blackOn a single fishing smack,In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack15All that France saved from the fight whence England borethe bell.Go to Paris: rank on rankSearch the heroes flung pell-mellOn the Louvre, face and flank!20You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Kiel.So, for better and for worse,Hervé Riel, accept my verse!In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once moreSave the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle25Aurore!
1. What about the man Hervé Riel do you admire most? Try to describe his character. Tell how he saved the fleet.2. Notes: Line 13, page 312, refers to the custom of painting or carving the head of a hero on the bow of a ship.—Lines 16-17, page 312. Formerly a bell was the prize given the victor in a race.
1. What about the man Hervé Riel do you admire most? Try to describe his character. Tell how he saved the fleet.
2. Notes: Line 13, page 312, refers to the custom of painting or carving the head of a hero on the bow of a ship.—Lines 16-17, page 312. Formerly a bell was the prize given the victor in a race.
This is a song of the Crimean War, a war between Russia on one side and Turkey, Great Britain, France, and Sardinia on the other. Guarding Sebastopol (the chief city of the Crimea) were several forts among which were the Redan and the Malakoff, mentioned herein. These, as well as the works of Balaklava, were held by the Russians. It was at Balaklava, you will recall, that the "Charge of the Light Brigade" was made, a charge made famous by Tennyson's poem.
This is a song of the Crimean War, a war between Russia on one side and Turkey, Great Britain, France, and Sardinia on the other. Guarding Sebastopol (the chief city of the Crimea) were several forts among which were the Redan and the Malakoff, mentioned herein. These, as well as the works of Balaklava, were held by the Russians. It was at Balaklava, you will recall, that the "Charge of the Light Brigade" was made, a charge made famous by Tennyson's poem.
"Give us a song!" the soldiers cried,The outer trenches guarding,When the heated guns of the camps alliedGrew weary of bombarding.The dark Redan, in silent scoff,5Lay grim and threatening under;And the tawny mound of the MalakoffNo longer belched its thunder.There was a pause. A guardsman said,"We storm the forts to-morrow:10Sing while we may; another dayWill bring enough of sorrow."They lay along the battery's side,Below the smoking cannon—Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde15And from the banks of Shannon.They sang of love and not of fame;Forgot was Britain's glory;Each heart recalled a different name,But all sangAnnie Laurie.Voice after voice caught up the song,5Until its tender passionRose like an anthem, rich and strong—Their battle-eve confession.Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,But as the song grew louder,10Something upon the soldier's cheekWashed off the stains of powder.Beyond the darkening ocean burnedThe bloody sunset's embers,While the Crimean valleys learned15How English love remembers.And once again a fire of hellRained on the Russian quarters,With scream of shot, and burst of shell,And bellowing of the mortars!20And Irish Nora's eyes are dimFor a singer dumb and gory;And English Mary mourns for himWho sang ofAnnie Laurie.Sleep, soldiers! Still in honored restYour truth and valor wearing;The bravest are the tenderest—The loving are the daring.
1. At what time of day did the singing take place? Why, do you suppose, did the British soldiers singAnnie Laurie?Repeat some of the lines of that song.2. What and where are the Severn, the Clyde, and the Shannon?3. Who was Florence Nightingale? How was she connected with the Crimean War?
1. At what time of day did the singing take place? Why, do you suppose, did the British soldiers singAnnie Laurie?Repeat some of the lines of that song.
2. What and where are the Severn, the Clyde, and the Shannon?
3. Who was Florence Nightingale? How was she connected with the Crimean War?