a a pleas oe tates ee Se eR ey Sar OES Sm Sees (Spee tele eres i SE eee eat Sree eaEY eae SS ge ee ee ees oe Bee eet ee peer ees See ste Ene ee Bi, eae erie ee tee pe eee aed SSeS ES EeeEe SS SSeoee : : : Betee sn 7 o eemenacee SE eee ee Zi 5 = eset Snnaae > =: Se eee pe S rs = : srsrsnereeress Sepetetaeeeees erie Escenas ae ae entree a = Serres eran terete retreat CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 024 177 A cottage girl trips by with side-long look, Steadying the little basket on her head, And where a plank bridges the narrow brook, She stops to see her fair form shadowed, Page 276 THE SIXTH READER BY LEWIS B. MONROE, DEAN OF BOSTON UNIVERSITY SCHOOL OF ORATORY. PHILADELPHIA COWPERTHWAIT & CO. Entered according to Act of Congress in the Year 1872, by LEWIS B. MONROE, in the rffice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. Westcott & Tomson. Snerman & Co., Stereotypers and Electrotypers, Philada. Printers, Philada. PREFAOE. HE preparation of a series of Readers has been con- templated by the compiler for more than twenty years. Experience in the school-room convinced him that there was room for improvement in this class of school- books. Twelve years devoted to reading as a specialty, in State Institutes, Normal Schools, and in the public schools of Boston and elsewhere, have given him opportunity to ascertain the actual needs of teachers and pupils; and the present volumes embody such ideas as have been found most fruitful in practical results. It is assumed at the outset that the primary purpose of a reading-book is to teach the art of reading. It is not intended to be a cyclopedia of facts, a book of history or of science, nor even a perfect compendium of literature. Its selections must be such as are adapted for school drill. And, as every good teacher knows, it is but a small pro- portion of scientific or even purely literary works which afford anything suitable for this purpose. There must be a certain vitality in the selections themselves to make them enjoyable and therefore profitable to the learner. But more, it must not be forgotten that the reading-book does for the student what no other school-book can do in so great a degree. It teaches him the art of written and oral expression; it furnishes him with models of style; it gives him gems of thought and sentiment as they have 6 PREFACE. crystallized in the most gifted minds; it holds up for his ad- miration and imitation examples of virtue, moral heroism, and self-sacrifice; it instills a love for the good, the pure, and the beautiful, in the natural and moral worlds,—and has thus more influence in forming his character than per- haps all other school-books united. Such, in the opinion of the compiler, is the province of the reading-book ; and the endeavor has here been made to prepare a series which should fulfill this high mission, and serve, in the hands of our noble army of teachers, not only as instruments of mental culture, but of moral elevation, to the young generation on whom the future hopes of our country and the cause of civilization depend. If students, having mastered this book, desire to make a further or more systematic study of English literature, such a compilation as Underwood’s Handbook will be found ex- cellent for that purpose. The writer would here express his obligations to Messrs. J. R. Osgood & Co. for permission to use extracts from their copyright editions of leading American authors; and . he acknowledges with gratitude the assistance he has re- ceived from many kind friends, particularly from J. T. Trowbridge, Esq., to whom he is especially indebted. L. B. M. Art. i. Il. IIT. IV. VI. VII. VIII. Ix. CONTENTS. PART I. PRACTICAL ELOCUTION. Page STANDARD DIRECTIONS: 2... 5 2 5 be wee ee we we we» 1 ESSENTIAL POINTS IN PRACTICE .. . « « 16 I. Pleasant Quality of Tone; II. ‘Astbbeisiaidans us. iultiness aud Power. SLIDES OR INFLECTIONS. ...... sa «2 @ 720 I. Falling Inflections; II. Rising fanlewihunas IIL. “pieie and Falling Infiections; ITV. Minor Rising Inflections; V. Minor Falling Inflections; VI. Circumfiex Infections; VII. Monotone. DIFFERENT QUALITIES OF VOICE . a ike I. Whispering; II. Half-whisper, or Aspirated Tone; III. Pure Tone; IV. Orotund; V. Aspirated Orctund. MOVEMENT, OR RATE OF UTTERANCE ... . ‘ I. Rapid Movement; II. Moderate; III. Slow; 1V. Very Slow. FORCE .. 1... ees . I. Gentle; II. Moderate ‘ores “Ur, “eons “Ty. — Lena, PITCH, OR MODULATION . . . we ee ee ee ee ee I. High Pitch; IL. Middle Pitch; IIIf. Low Pitch; 1V. Very Low. ITRANSETION: a)4o0 (at pho iy Jae Galle WE ay Ge Se ee a ey A IMITATIVE MODULATION . . 2. ee ee eee ee SPVTE wy Be a RG ae a hs I. Conversational; II. Light Narrative, III. Narrative and Descriptive; IV. Didactic; V. Public Address; VI. De- clamatory; VII. Emotional. z 32 40 7 VIII. IX. XI. XIII. XV. XVII. XXI. XXIII. XXV. XXVI. XXVIII. XXXII. XXXIV. XXXVI. XXXVIII. XL. XLII. XLIV. XLVI. XLVIITI. L. LII. LIV. LVI. LVIII. LX, CONTENTS. PART II. READING LESSONS. PROSE. Page Gop ALL IN ALL ..... « Convers Francis . 6h THE ELDER BROTHER, (Part First.) .. . . . 1...) 6b THE ELDER BROTHER. (PartSecond,.) ...... . 64 TREATMENT OF THE AMERICAN COLONIES ... Wi faite Be Lord Chatham .« THE HEROINE OF ARG ‘(Park Wleaes ate a canes wey THE HEROLNE OF NANCY. (PartSecoud.)..... . 7 HANDSOME IS V1H1AT HANDSOME DOES!s & 4 3% @ ee a 0G Whiner. . 8 THE GLORIES OF MORNING .. . Edward Everett . 89 Tire EVERYWHERE ... at te G. H. Lewes . . Ol THE CHEERFUL LOCKSMITH . . . Charles Dickens . 96 ZeNOBIA'Ss AMBITION. . 1... . William Ware . 105 “WitH BRAINS, SIR” .. ‘ J. Brown, M.D. . 110 THE BATTLE OF BUNKER Hic, (Part First.) . ‘ ‘ es is A. HH Everett. . M7 THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. (Part Second.). ....... A. H, Everett . . 120 ARRAIGNMENT OF CATILINE. . . Cicero. . . . « 12% TROUT-FISHING » «& & «& 4 8% 6 we & y « we & w i¢ “102 ONE OF MR. CROWFIELD’S Moons. Mrs. H. B. Stowe 140 THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. . . John Burroughs . 145 PATIENT CONTINUANCE IN WELL- DOING .... a Mrs. L. M. Child 150 THE UNKNOWN WRECK. .... Wash. Irving . . 152 SYMPATHY WITH THE GREEKS. . Henry Clay. . . 155 CHARACTER OF CHARLES THE FIRST . . BA al>, ra ae Lord Macaulay . 158 RUINS OF JAMESTOWN SETTLE- MENT ... i Cae fh Te Sa William Wirt . . 161 LEARNING BY HRA by Ge “se bad ae V. Lushington. . 165 THE LovE oF NATURE ..... Beattie. .... Ii TuE TRUE USE OF WEALTH . ‘ John Ruskin . . Vi4 SUPPOSED SPEECH OF JOHNADAMS Daniel Webster . 179 CROMWELL’S EXPULSION OF THE PARLIAMENT... iol es ae John Lingard. . 184 MICHAEL ANGELO, ARTIST AND ARTISAN... .. te eR Card. Wiseman. . 187 RALEIGH’S FIRST beneiwter WITH THC QUEEN. (Part First.) . . Walter Scott. . . 192 ART. LXI. LXIIl. LXV. LXVII. LXIX. LXX. LXXII. LXXIV. LXXVI. LXXVIII. LXXX. LXXXII. LXXXIVv. LXXXVI. LAAXVIIT. XC. X.CII. XCIV. XCVI. XCVIII. Cc. CII. CIV. CVI. CVIII. CIx. CXI. CXIII. CXYV. CXVII. CXIX. CXXI. CXXIIi. CXXV. CXXVIUII. CONTENTS, * RALEIGH’sS First INTERVIEW WITH THE QUEEN. (Part Second.) . AMONG THE ICEBERGS . BEAUTY OF THE UNIVERSE NATIONAL BANKRUPTCY THE LARK IN THE GOLD- Fumes, (Part First.) 2... 2 eee THE LARK IN THE GOLD-FIELDS. (Part Second.). . . . . SPs TAXATION OF THE COLONIES .. INVENTIVE GENIUS AND LABOR . AN ALPINE STREAM ...... BEAUTIFUL SIGHTS AT SEA .. TRACES OF OCEAN .. . «4 ENGLAND'S WAR WITH reawie AND AMERICA .. 1 1 eee HEARTY READING . . as < A RIDE IN THE ANDROSCOGGIN VALLEY: x95. 3 @ Be 8 THE PROBLEM OF CREATION. CHEERFULNESS ... Hose is ELIZABETH’S ANGER AT LEICES- TER'S MARRIAGE ... . APPEAL FOR STARVING IRELAND INDOLENCE ....+:+- ‘ VISIT TO A HIGHLAND SCHOOL SELF-IGNORANCE A PEBBLE... sao 8 BRITISH RULE IN inte ‘ TOUSSAINT’S LAST STRUGGLES FOR HAYIT. .. iy eS ak Tom BRown’s isn Visrt TO Ruesy. (Part First.) .... Tom Brown’s LAst VISIT TO Ruasy. (Part Second.). AWAIT THE ISSUE ....+.+-: = SCIENCE AND POETRY. ...: - YourHFUL FRIENDSHIP AND NAT- URAL SCENERY ... +++ > Wortu oF HUMAN NATURE. . THE MEMORY OF WASHINGTON . DESTRUCTION OF THE CARNATIC . AMONG THE SHOALS ... - é REVOLUTION OF THE UiivEEan Tue POWER OF POETRY IN BAT- TLE ¢@ eof es PAGE Walter Scott. . 197 Isaac I. Hayes 203 G.A. Sala... 27 Mirabeau . .. 2il Charles Reade . 214 Charles Reade . 217 Edmund Burke . 222 Elihu Burritt . . 227 Rev. H. McMillan, 234 James R. Lowell. 240 Hugh Miller . . 245 Chas. James Fox . 249 Sydney Smith . 253 T. Stary King . . 27 O. M. Mitchel . 262 J. H. Friswell. . 265 Walter Scott. . . 272 S.S. Prentiss . 278 J. H. Friswell . 283 J. Brown, M.D. . 287 John Caird . . 292 Leigh Hunt. . 295 Lord Erskine . 301 Wendell Phillips . 307 T. Hughes .. . 318 T. Hughes ... 816 T. Carlyle . . . 323- Dr. Lardner . . 329 John Wilson 339 O. Dewey. . . « 345 E. Everett . . . 350 Burke... . . 858 J. F. Cooper . . 306 Rev. H. McMillan. 361 I. W. Robertson . 870 10 Aur. CXXXI. CXXNITI. CXXXV. CXXXVII. CXXXIX. II. Vv. XIT. XVI. XVIII. XX. XXII. XXIV. XXVII. XXIX,. XXXI-. XXXIII. XXXV. XXXVII. XXXIX. XLI. XLII. XLV. XLIX. LI. LIII. LV. LVI. LXV. LXVIIL LXXI. LX XIII. LXXV. LXXVIL. LXXIX. LXXXI. LXXXIII. LXXXVII. CONTENTS. SPEECH ON THE AMERICAN WAR. HARD Work. : ADDRESS TO Paup Neen eae 3 DEDICATION OF GETTYSBURG CEM- ETERY.... syns earn SPEECH AND SILENCE ae POETRY. THE SPRING JOURNEY THE FINDING OF THE LYRE. THE THREE BLACK CROWS NAUHAUGHT, THE DEACON . . LOCHINVAR . ao pe) ee In A HUNDRED YEARS ..... THE LAUNCH OF THE SHIP . . THE Brook . THE RIcH MAN AND THE Pune MAn a 4 A GREYPORT LEGEND, “797 THE FORGING OF THE ANCHOR Goopy BLAKE AND HARRY GILL THE BATTLE OF NASEBY .... EVENING BELLS . ABoU BEN ADHEM . UNION AND LIBERTY .. MIDSUMMER. . . see FALL OF THE ee ‘Hinous ‘ THE SonG OF THE RAIN THE GLORY OF GoD IN Cierny BUGLE SonG.... oo JOAN OF ARC’S Raicewiatl TO Home THE LIGHTHOUSE THE RISING IN 1776 Tur BRIDAL OF MALAIIDE , THE GREAT BELL ROLAND . . EACH AND ALL . 2 Pm THE WitcH’s DAUGHTER... . THE OLD Clock ........ DEATH OF SAMSON THE MOUNTAIN WaNsenen's S Fea TURN 5 « » es ‘ CHARGE OF THE Lites Bieicieined, THE EVE OF WATERLOO ...,. Lord Chatham . Wm. E. Channing. Robert Hall. . . A, Lineoln. . . T. Carlyle ... Bishop Heber . . James R, Lowell . John Byrom .. . G. Whittier. . Sir Walter Scott. . Hf. W. Longfellow Alfred Tennyson, Ehemnitzer. . . fF, Bret Harte. . S. Ferguson Wordsworth . Lord Macaulay . Thomas Moore Leigh Hunt. . O. W. Holmes . . J. 7. Trowbridge. Joaquin Miller . Spectator . Moore. ... Tennyson ... Schiller re Thomas Moore T.B. Read. . Gerald Griffin . Theodore Tilton . R. W. Emerson . J. G. Whittier . HI, W. Longfellow. Milton . 1... Joaquin Miller . A. Tennyson . . Lord Byron, PAGr 374 378 380 382 385 151 159 168 173 178 182 186 208 212 220 225 229 238 243 246 250 ART. LXXXIX, XCI. XCV. XCVII. XCIX. CI. CIIl. CV. CVII. CX. CXIV. CXVL CXVIII. CXX, CXXII. CXXIV. CXXVI. CXXVII. CXXIX. CXXX. CXXXIV. CXXXVI. CXXXVIII. CONTENTS. THE HURRICANE. . ... wu. SUMMER MoRNING ....... THE TEAR OF REPENTANCE . . BE PATIENT. ... fie ‘ THE FACE AGAINST THE PANE. DISCIPLINE... 1... eee THE CHAMBERED NAUTILUS. . THE HigH TIDE wsloe S via WAITING BY THE GATE. LADY CLARE ‘ HERVE RIEL .... THE CLOUD... i Soe ee THE VILLAGE hie Moisians a SKATING .. . . SEPTEMBER DAYS < APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN. . . EXILE OF THE ACADIANS. (Part PUG GF 2. Fe5, RB A Ga Hey kk Se EXILE OF THE ACADIANS, (Part Second.) ... i aston Aa SONNET TO NIGHT .. - THE EAGLE ...... me THE FIXED STARS é THE TOUCHSTONE é ‘ Mont BLANC BEFORE SUNRISE . 11 Pace W.C. Bryant . . 264 Thomas Miller. 267 T. Moore. . . . 280 R.G. Trench . . 286 T. B. Aldrich . . 289 O. W. Holmes . . 300 Jean Ingelow . . 303 W.C. Bryant . . 31l Tennyson. . . . 820 Robert Browning. 335 P, B. Shelley . . 348 Goldsmith . . . 346 Wordsworth . . 352 George Arnold . 355 Lord Byron . . 360 H. W. Longfellow, 363 H. W. Longfellow. 366 Blanco White . . 372 Tennyson . . 373 Young. . . . 379 W. Allingham . 381 S&S. T. Coleridge . 383 DIALOGUES AND CONCERT-READINGS. VII. xX. XIV. XVII. RXX, XLVII. LIX. LXII. LXIV. LXXXV. XCIII. CXII. CXXXIL EPISODE FROM A NEW ENGLAND TRAGEDY . 2 a % PAUL REVERE'S RIDE THE KING OF GLORY . THE CHEERFUL LOCKSMITH Two VIEWS OF CHRISTMAS . THE QUAKER MARTYRS. CATILINE AND AURELIA THE SONG OF THE FORGE . HoTSPUR AND VERNON . “ THE TENT-SCENE BETWEEN BRU- TUS AND CASSIUS . are DIALOGUE BETWEEN HAMLET AND HoRATIO. . . ss 7 ScENE FROM KING Hewue IV, OTHELLO’S DEFENSE .-.... H.W. Longfellow. 72 HH. W. Longfellow. 79 King David. . . 90 Charles Dickens . 96 Charles Dickens . 128 A.W. Longfellow. 163 G. Croly . s « © 189 Shakspeare . . . 206 Shakspeare . . . 24 Shakspeare . . . 275 Shakspeare . . . 327 Shakspeare . . . 376 INDEX OF ALDRICH, T. B., 289. ALLINGHAM, W., 381. ARNOLD, GEORGE, 366. BEATTIE, 171. BROWN, JOHN, M.D., 110, 287. BROWNING. ROBERT, 335. BRYANT, W. C., 264, 311. BURKE, EDMUND, 222, 353 BURRITT, ELIHU, 227. BURROUGHS, JOHN, 145. BYROM, JOHN, 87. BYRON, LORD, 260, 360. CAIRD, JOHN, 292. CARLYLE, T., 325, 385. CHANNING, Rev. W. E., 378. CHATHAM, LORD, 70, 374, CHILD, MRS. L. M., 140. CICERO, 125. CLAY, HENRY, 155. COLERIDGE, 8. T., 383. COOPER, J. F., 356. CROLY, G., 189. DAVID, KING, 90. DEWEY, 0., 345. DICKENS, CHARLES, 96, 128. EMERSON, R. W., 225. ERSKINE, LORD, 301. EVERETT, A. H.. 117, 120. EVERETT, EDWARD, 89, 350 FERGUSON, S., 129. FOX, CHARLES JAMES, 249. FRANCIS, CONVERS, 61. FRISWELL, J. I., 265, 283. GOLDSMITH, 346. GRIFFIN, GERALD, 212. HALL, ROBERT, 386, HARTE, F. BRET, 126. HAYES, ISAAC TI., 203. HEBER, BISHOP, 62. HOLMES, 0. W., 154, 300. HUGHES, T,, 313, 316. HUNT, LEIGH, 151, 295, 370. INGELOW, JEAN, 303. IRVING, WASHINGTON, 152, KHEMNITZER, 123. KING, T. STARR, 257. 12 AUTHORS. LARDNER, Dr., 329. LEWES, G. H., 91. LINCOLN, ABRAHAM, 382. LINGARD, JOHN, 184. LONGFELLOW, H. W., 72, 79, 107, 168, 238, 363, 366. LOWELL, JAMES R., 69, 240. LUSHINGTON, VERNON, 165. MACAULAY, LORD, 143, 158. McMILLAN, Rev. H., 284, 361. MILLER, HUGH. 245. MILLER, JOAQUIN, 159, 246, MILLER, THOMAS, 267. MILTON, 243. MIRABBAU, 211. MITCHEL, 0, M., 262. MOORE, THOMAS, 149, 173, 186, 280. PHILLIPS, WENDELL, 307. PRENTISS, S. S., 278. PRESCOTT, W. H., 101. READ, T. B., 208. READE, CHARLES, 214, 217. ROBERTSON, Rev. F, W., 370. RUSKIN, JOHN, 174, SALA, G. A., 207. SCHILLER, 182. SCOTT, SIR WALTER, 99, 192, 197, 272. SHAKSPFARE, 206, 254, 276, 327, 376. SHELLEY, P. B., 343. SMITH, SYDNEY, 253. SPECTATOR, 168. STOWE. MRS. H. B., 140. TENNYSON, ALFRED, 113, 178, 251, 340, TILTON, THEODORE, 220. TRENCH, R. C., 286. TROWBRIDGE, J. T., 156. WARE, WILLIAM, 105. WEBSTER, DANIEL, 179. ‘| WHITE, BLANCO, 372. WHITITER. J. G., 85, 98, 229. WILSON, JOIIN, 339, WIRT, WILLIAY, 161. WISEMAN, CARDINAL, 187. WORDSWORTH, 136, 352. YOUNG, 379, “AU art must be preceded by a certain mechanical experiness GokTHE. PRACTICAL HLOCUTION. I. STANDARD DIRECTIONS. TAND ok SIT IN A GOOD Position. Body upright, chest ex- panded, shoulders thrown back, and head erect. 2. HoLD THE BOOK PROPERLY. Support the book in the left hand, with three fingers underneath,—the thumb and little finger extended above to keep the leaves down. Elbow free from the body, and forearm elevated at an angle of thirty to forty- five degrees. : 3. BREATHE BEFORE THE LUNGS ARE EMPTY OF AIR, and before necessity or fatigue forces the lungs to respire too great a volume at once. 4, KEEP THE EYE AND MIND IN ADVANCE OF THE TONGUE. That ~ is, look ahead on the page, and see and understand clearly what you are going to say, before you speak. 5. THINK THE THOUGHTS AND FEEL THE EMOTIONS. Unless this is done the reading will be as profitless to the reader as it is dry, mechanical, and meaningless to the hearer. 6. BE IN EARNEST. Always throw yourself into the spirit of what you read, and try to do your best. 7. MAKE YOURSELF HEARD, UNDERSTOOD, AND FELT. To do this, however, do not overstrain the voice nor pitch its tones too high. Be correct but not over-nice in the enunciation. Do not mistake theatrical bluster for expressive reading. is 16 THE SIXTH READER. 8. LISTEN TO OTHERS. Give strict attention while others are reading, and try particularly to see wherein they do well. You will thus gradually make their merits your own. 9, StruDY THE READING LESSON. Prepare your reading exercise as carefully as you would for a recitation in history or geography. It is a mistake to suppose that the productions of the great mas- ters of thought and expression can be read properly without such study. II. ESSENTIAL POINTS {N PRACTICE. I. Pleasant Quality of Tone. HE tone of voice in ordinary reading should be sweet, musical, and sprightly. Practice the following examples for the cultivation of such a tone. Read as a person naturally speaks when in a happy, buoyant state of mind. 1. Give us, O give us, the man who sings at his work! He will do more in the same time,—he will-do it bétter,—he will perse- vere lOnger. One is scarcely sensible of fatigue whilst he marches to mtsic. The very stdrs are said to make harmony as they re- volve in their spheres. Wondrous is the strength of chéerfulness, altogether past calculation its powers of endurance. Efforts, to be permanently useful, must be uniformly joyous, a spirit all stin- shine, graceful from very gladness, beautiful because bright. 2. What hé, my jovial mates! come on! well frolic it Like fairies frisking in the merry modnshine! 8. There is nothing like fin, is there? I haven’t any myself, but I do like it in Others. O, we néed it! We need all the counterweights we can mister to balance the sad relations of life. God has made sunny spots in the heart; why “should we excliide the light from them? conn wae 2 Hone ae ESSENTIAL POINTS IN PRACTICE. 17 4. Hamelin Town’s in Brinswick, By famous Hanover city: The river Wéser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pléasanter spot you never spied; But when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity. 5. Insects generally must lead a jovial life. Think what it must be to lodge in a lily. Imagine a palace of ivory and péarl, with pillars of silver and capitals of gdld, and exhaling such a perfume as never arose from human cénser. Fancy again the fun of tucking one’s self up for the night in the folds of a rose, rocked to sleep by the gentle sighs of summer dir, nothing to do when you awake but to wash yourself in a déw-drop, and fall to eating your bédclothes. 6. There’s a good time coming, boys, A good time coming: We may not live to sée the day, But earth shall glisten in the ray Of the good time coming. Cannon balls may Aid the truth, But thought’s a weapon stronger; We'll win our battle by its aid ;— Wait a little longer. II, Articulation. Having made sure of a pleasant quality of voice, the pupil may next give his attention to cutting out his words with neat- ness and precision. Open the mouth sufficiently, and put fe into the action of the jaw, tongue, and lips. Pupils who have a tendency to mumbling indistinctness—and it is a good exercise for all—should exaggerate the movement of the organs of artic- ulation, working the muscles of the mouth with extreme but elastic motions. The words may be practiced one at a time; 18 THE SIXTH READER. then in phrases; then in complete sentences,—slowly at first, afterwards with increasing rapidity. When perfection is attained there will be no excessive movements,—nothing to interfere with a becoming expression of the features. 1. Lovely art thou, O Péace! and lovely are thy children, and lovely are the prints of thy footsteps in the green valleys. 2. Steel clanging sounded on steél. Hélmets are cleft on high; blood bursts and smokes around. As the troubled noise of the Ocean when roll the waves on high; as the last peal of the thunder of héaven; such is the noise of battle. 3. Like leaves on trées the life of nian is found, Now green in yéuth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies, They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay; So flourish thése, when those have pass’d away. 4. To an American visiting Europe, the long voyage he has to make is an excellent preparative. From the moment you lose sight of the land you have left, all is vacancy until you step on the opposite shore, and are launched at once into the bustle and novelties of another world. 5. What wak’st thou, Spring?—Sweet voices in the wodds, And reed-like &échoes, that have long been mite; Thou bringest back, to fill the solitudes, The lark’s clear pipe, the ciickoo’s viewless flute, Whose tone seems breathing mournfulness or glée, Even as our héarts may be. 6. In looking forward to future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses, at é6nce. One moment comes laden with its own little burden, then flies, and is succeeded by an- other no heavier than the last: if 6ne could be sustained, so can andther, and another. ESSENTIAL POINTS IN PRACTICE. 19 III. Fullness and Power. Fullness and power of voice are required for many purposes of expressive reading, and are also indispensable when speaking in a large space or addressing persons at a distance. The tone of ordinary conversation lacks the requisite strength and dig- nity. The following examples are given for practice in a full free tone. Such exercises are very beneficial not only to the voice but to the health, as they bring into action most of, the mus- cles of the trunk and give a wholesome stimulus i the vital organs. Observe the following directions in the order named : 1. Take a good standing position. 2. Inhale a deep breath quietly and promptly through the nostrils. 38. Control the breath by a slight effort of the muscles of the waist and abdomen, some- what as in lifting. 4. Open the mouth and project the lips. 5. Fix the eye and the mind on some distant point, and aim the tone at that point. 6. Do not spend too much breath. 1. H6! strike the flag-staff deép, Sir Knight—hd! scatter flowers, fair maids: H6! gunners, fire a loud salite—h6! gallants, draw your blades. 2. Awake, Sir King, the gates unspar! Rise up, and ride both fast and far! The séa flows over bolt and bar! 8. Ye crags and peaks, I’m with you once again! I hold to you the hands you first behéld, ' To show they still are free. Methinks I hear A spirit in your echoes answer me, And bid your tenant welcome hdéme again! 4, O sacred forms, how préud you look! How high you lift your heads into the sky! How hige you are, how mighty, and how frae! Ye are the things that tower, that shine; whose smile Makes glid—whose frown is térrible; whose forms, Robed or unrobed, do all the impress wear Of awe divine. 20 THE SIXTH READER. 5. Again to the battle, Achaians! Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance; Our land—the first garden of Liberty’s tree— It hds been, and shall yét be, the land of the frée; For the cross of our faith is replanted, The pale, dying crescent is daunted, And we march that the footprints of Mahomet’s slaves May be washed out in blood from our forefathers’ graves. Their spirits are hovering 6’er us, And the sword shall to glory restore us. 6. It is this accursed American war that has led us, step by step, into all our present misfortunes and national disgraces. What was the cause of our wasting forty millions of money, and sixty thousand lives? The American war! What was it that produced the French rescript and a Frénch war? The American war! What was it that produced the Spanish manifesto and a Spanish war? The American war! What was it that armed forty-two thousand men in Ireland with the arguments carried on the points of forty thousand bayonets? The American war. For what are we about to incur an additional debt of twelve or fourteen millions? This accursed, cruel, diabolical American war ! III. SLIDES OR INFLECTIONS. N asking a direct question the voice glides from low to high, and in the answer it slides downward. Thus, one asks an- other at a distance what he wants,—“The ball?” “No! the knife.” The movement of the voice on the word “ball” is a rising slide or inflection; that upon ‘“‘no” and “knife” is falling. The more intense the question and reply, the further up and down would the voice run. In sad or plaintive utterance the slide becomes gemitonic or minor. In irony or in double-meaning the voice waves upwaril and downward on the same sound, producing the circumflex slide, named rising or falling, according as the voice moves up or down at its close. SLIDES OR INFLECTIONS. 21 In the expression of awe and sublimity the voice usually has a level movement from note to note, “like the repeated sounds of a deep-toned bell.” This intonation in speaking is termed the monotone. , Slides occur on the most important words, thus determining the sense; and they also serve to give the proper melody to a sentence. Words contrasted in meaning are contrasted in inflection. No two successive slides should be alike in pitch. I. Falling Inflections. 1. “To drms! to arms! to arms!” they cry; “Grasp the shield and draw the sword; Lead us to Philippi’s lord; Let us conquer him or die!” 2. If it be Arthur—H6! what, hd! Up spéar! out drrow! Bend the bow! * Forth, after Arthur, on the foe! 8. Who’s here so base that would be a béndman? If any, spéak; for him have I offénded. Who's here so rude that would notbea Roman? If any,spéak; for him have I offended. Who’s here so vile that will not love his cotntry? If any, spéak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply. 4, “Hénce! héme, you idle creatures, get you héme. You bldcks, you sténes, you worse than senseless things! Be gone! Run to your hoéuses, fall upon your knées, Pray to the gods to intermit the plague That needs must light on this ingratitude.” 5. Where are we? What city do we inhabit? Under what government do we tive? Hére, hére, Conscript Fathers, mixed and mingled with us all—in the center of this most grave and venerable ass¢mbly—are men sitting, quietly plotting against my life, against all your lives; the life of every virtuous senator and citizen. 22 THE SIXTH READER. II. Rising Inflections. 1. And do you now put on your best attire? And do you now cull out a héliday? And do you now strew fléwers in his way, That comes in triumph over Pompey’s blood? 2. Must I bidge? Must I observe y6u? Must I stand and crouch under your testy hamor? 8. Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem’st the 6rnament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting “I dare not” wait upon “TI would,” Like the poor cat i’ the adage? 4, Ashamed to toil, art thou? Ashamed of thy dingy wérk- shop and dusty libor-field; of thy hard hand, scarred with ser- vice more honorable than that of war; of thy soiled and weather- stained girments, on which mother Nature has embroidered, ’mid sun and rain, ’mid fire and steam, her own heraldic hénors? Ashamed of these tokens and titles, and envious of the flaunting robes of imbecile idleness and vanity ? III. Rising and Falling Inflections. 1. Can honor setalég? Nd. Oran frm? Nod. Or take away the grief of awéund? Nod. Honor hath no skill in sirgery, then? No. What is honor? A word. What is that word, honor? Air. Who hath it? He that died on Wednesday. Doth he féel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insénsible, then? Yés, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? Nd. Why? Detrac- tion will not siffer it. 2. What would contént you? Talent? No! Enterprise? No! Courage? NO! Reputation? Nd! Virtwe? Nod! The men whom you would select should possess, not dne, but All of these. 3. What is time ?—the shadow on the dial,—the striking of the celéck,—the running of the sind—dav and night.—summer and SLIDES OR INFLECTIONS 23 winter,—ménths, yéars, cénturies? These are but arbitrary and outward signs,—the measure of time, not time itself. Time is the life of the soul. If not this,—then tell me what is time? “Friends, I come not here to talk. Ye know too well The story of our thralldom. We are slaves! The bright sun rises to his course, and lights A race of slaves! He sets, and his last béam Falls on a slave.” 5. Prince Henry. What’s the matter? Falstaff. What’s the mAtter? Here be four of us have taken a thousand pownds this morning. Prince Henry. Where is it, Jack, where is it? Falstaff. Where is it? Taken from us, it is. 6. They tell us, sir, that we are weak,—unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be strodnger? Will it be the next wéek, or the next yéar? Will it be when we are totally disirmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inac- tion? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemy shall have bound us hand and foot ?_Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. IV. Minor Rising Inflections. 1. Give me three grains of cérn, mother, Only three grains of c6rn. 2. Oh! pardon me, thou bleeding piece of éarth, That I am meek and géntle with these—bitchers. 3. O my lord, Must I then léave you? must I needs forego So géod, so néble, and so trée a master? 24 THE SIXTH READER. V. Minor Falling Inflections. 1. O, sdve me, Hubert, sive me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce lodks of these bloody men. 2. O! I have lost you all! Parents and home and friénds. 3. The shepherd saunters last :—but why Comes with him, pace for pace, That éwe? and why, so piteously, Looks up the creature’s face? VI. Circumflex Inflections. 1. None dared withstand him to his face, But one sly maiden spake aside: “The little witch is évil-eyed! Her mother only killed a céw, Or witched a chtirn or dairy-pan ; But shé, forsooth, must charm a m4n!”. 2. What should I say to you? Should I not say, Hath a dog money? is it possible, A cur can lend three thousand ducats? 8. Do not tell me of laws; I am a savage! I value no laws. Talk of laws to the Englishman ; there are laws in his country, and yet you see he did not regard them, for they could never allow him to kill his fellow-subject in time of peace, because he asked him to pay a debt. The English cannot be so brital as ta make such things lawful. 4, Now, in building of chaises, I tell you what, There is always somewhere a wéakest spot; And that’s the reason, beyond a doubt, A chaise breaks down, but doesn’t wear dut. 5. He, I warrant: him, Believed in no other gods than those of the creed; Bowed to no idols—but his mdney-bags ; Swore no false 6aths—except at the ctistom-house. DIFFERENT QUALITIES OF VOICE. 25 VII. Monotone. 1. Holy! hély! hély! Lérd Géd of Sabaoth! 2. The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The sdlemn témples, the gréat globe itsélf— Yea, all which it inhérit, shall dissdlve, And, like this unsubstantial pageant, faded,— Leave not a rack behind. 3. There was silence, and I heard a voice saying, “Shall mortal min be more jist than Géd? Shall a min be more pire than his Maker?” 4. “Come to thy Géd in time,” Thus saith the ocean chime; “Stérm, whirlwind, billows past, Come to thy Géd at last.” LY: DIFFERENT QUALITIES OF VOICE. URE TONE is used in unimpassioned discourse; in the ex- pression of light and agreeable emotions; and in sadness or grief. Orotund is used to express whatever is grand, vast, or sublime. Aspirated quality expresses secrecy, fear, darkness, or moral impurity. The Whisper has expressive power similar to that of the aspi- rated tone. It is seldom employed in reading or speaking, but it may be practiced a few moments at a time,as a discipline of the organs of speech. I. Whispering. 1, All heaven and earth are still,_though not in sleep, But bréathless, as we grow when feeling most; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too déep. 2. I see the head of the enemy’s column rising over the height. Our only safety is in the screen of this hédge. Keep close td it; be silent; and stoop as you rtn. For the boats! Forward! 26 THE SIXTH READER. ®. All silent they went, for the time was approaching, The moon the blue zenith already was touching; No foot was abroad on the forest or hill, No sound but the lullaby sung by the rill. II. Half-whisper, or Aspirated Tone. 1. Only the old camp-raven croaks, And soldiers whisper: ‘“ Boys, be still! There’s some bad néws from Grainger’s folks.” 2. Hist! I see the stir of glimour far upon the twilight wold. Hist! I see the vision rising! List! and as I speak, behdld! 8. And once behind a rick of barley, Thus looking out did Harry stand; The moon was full and shining clearly, And crisp with frost the stubble land. —He hears a ndise—he’s all awdke— Again !—on tiptoe down the hill He softly créeps. 4. Macbeth. Didst thou not hear a néise? Lady Macbeth. I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry. Did not you spéak? Mach. When? Lady M. Now. Mach. As I descénded? Lady M. Ay. Macb. Hark! Who lies i’ the second chamber? _Lady M. Dénalbain. Enter Lady Macbeth, with a Taper. 5. Gentlewoman. Lo you, here she cOmes! This is her very guise; and, upon my life, fast asléep. Obsérve her; stand cldse. Physician. How came she by that light? Gent. Why it stood by her; she has light by her continually; ‘tis her command. Phy. You see her eyes are Open? Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. Phy. What is it she doesnéw? Léook, how she rubs her hands. Gent. I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour. DIFFERENT QUALITIES OF VOICE, 27 III. Pure Tone. \- 1. You bells in the steéple, ring, ring out your changes, How many soéver they ba, And let the brown méadow-lark’s note as he ringes Come over, come over to mé. 2. The splendor falls on castle walls, And snowy simmits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 3. The maxim that no people ought to be free till they are fit to use their freedom, is worthy of the fool in the old story, who resolved not to go into the water till he had learned to swim. If men are to wait for liberty till they become wise and good in slavery, they may indeed wait foréver. 4, Bléssings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan; With thy turned-up pantaldons, And thy merry whistled tines; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim’s jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy,— I was once a barefoot boy! 5. My h@art leaps tp when I behold A crngt 9 A rdinbow in the sky; lear So was it when my life begin; tase So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. 28 THE SIXTH READER. IV. Orotund. 1. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue dcean—réll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. 2. I would call upon all the true sons of New England to co- dperate with the laws of m4n and the justice of Héaven. 3. Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth! Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills, Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising stn, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises Géd. 4, The hills, Rock-ribbed and ancient as the stn,—the vales, Stretching in pensive quietness between ; The venerable woods—rivers that.move In majesty, and the complaining bréoks, That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old écean’s gray and melancholy waste,— Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man. V. Aspirated Orotund. 1. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds. 2. How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof, By its own weight made steadfast and immovable, Looking tranquillity! It strikes an awe And térror on my aching sight; the tombs And monumental caves of death look céld, And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. 3. I see the smoke of the furnaces where manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of those who by stealth and at midnight labor in this work of hall, foul and dark, as may becéme the artificers of such instruments of misery and torture. ° MOVEMENT, OR RATE OF UTTERANCE. 29 V. MOVEMENT, OR RATE OF UTTERAN CE. S the stately march of the solemn procession and the light trip of the joyous child are indicative of the states of mind which prompt them, so the movement which is proper in reading depends upon the emotion to be expressed. If the reader should ask himself what would be his manner of walking while under the influence of any particular emotion, it would be a safe guide to his rate of utterance. Animated and playful moods would manifest themselves in a light and buoyant step, sometimes trip- ping and bounding along. Hurry and precipitancy are indicated by ‘corresponding haste and impetuosity of movement. On the contrary, deep emotions of solemnity and awe can exist only with very slow movements. Dignity requires in its expres- sion not only slowness but regularity. Violent passion gives rise to irregular and impulsive speech. I. Rapid Movement. 1. So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung. 2. Under his spurning feet, the road, Like an arrowy Alpine river, flowed, And the landscape sped away behind, Like an ocean flying before the wind. 3. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Pointing tails and pricking whiskers, Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives— Followed the Piper for their lives. 4. And there was mounting in hot haste, The steed, the must’ring squadron, and the clatt’ring car Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war. 30 THE SIXTH READER. 5. Pull, pull in your ldssoes, and bridle to steéd, And spéed, if ever for life you would speed ; And ride for your lives, for your lives you must ride, For the plain is aflame, the prairie on fire, And feet of wild horses hard flying before I hear like a sta breaking high on the shore: ‘While the biffalo come like the surge of the sea, Driven far by the flame, driving fast on us three, As a hdrricane comes, crushing palms in his ire. II. Moderate. 1. Eloquence consists simply in feeling a truth yoursélf, and in making those who héar you feel it. 2. Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you 6ut of the crannies ;— Hold you here, root and All, in my hand, Little flower—but if I could understand What you dre, root and 4ll, and 4ll in all, I should know what God and man is. 8. A vain man’s motto is, ‘‘Win gold and wéar it;”’ a generous man’s, “ Win gold and share it;” a miser’s, “ Win gold and spare it;” a profligate’s, “Win gold and spénd it;” a broker’s, “Win gold and lénd it;” a gambler’s or a fool’s, “ Win gold and lose it;” but a wise man’s, “ Win gold and ase it.” 4. The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble soul its fear subdtes, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from. 5. To gild refined géld, to paint the lily; To throw perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of héaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excéss. MOVEMENT, OR RATE OF UTTERANCE. 31 III. Slow. 1. Lord, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. Before the méuntains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to ever- lasting, thou art God. 2. O ye loud waves! and O ye forests high! And O ye clouds that far above me soared! Thou rising stn! thou blue rejoicing sky! Yea, everything that is and will be free! Bear witness for me, wheresoe’er ye be, With what deep worship I have still adored The spirit of divinest liberty! 8. I would invoke those who fill the seats of jistice, and all who minister at her altar, that they execute the wholesome and necessary severity of the law. I invoke the ministers of our religion, that they proclaim its denunciation of these crimes, and add its solemn sanctions to the authority of htman laws. If the pulpit be silent, whenever or whérever there may be a sinner, bloody with this guilt, within the hearing of its véice, the pulpit is false to its trust. 4. Slow, slow! toll it low, As the séa-waves break and flow; With the same dull, slumberous motion As his ancient mother Ocean Rocked him on through storm and calm, From the iceberg to the palm: So his drowsy ears may deem That the sound which breaks his dream Is the ever-moaning tide Washing on his véssel’s side. IV. Very Slow. 1. O thou Etérnal One! whose presence bright All space doth éccupy, all motion guide; Unchanged through time’s all-devastating flight; Thou dnly God! There is no God beside. 32 THE SIXTH READER. 2. Wide as the world is His command, Vast as etérnity His love; Firm as a rock His truth shall stand, When rolling years shall cease to méve. 8. Here, then, is a support which will never fail; here is a foundation which can never be méved,—the everlasting Creator of countless worlds, “the high and lofty One that inhabiteth etér nity.” Whata sublime concéption! He inhabits etérnity, 6ccu- pies this inconceivable duration, pervades and fills throughdut this boundless dwélling. ¥iL. FORCE. HE degree of force or loudness required in reading depends upon the space to be filled by the reader’s voice or the dis- tance it must reach; upon the number of persons presumed to be addressed, and upon the emotion expressed. What is wanted in every-day use of the voice, in the school- room or elsewhere, is a clear tone and easy, natural utterance. The practice of loud and sustained tones is an excellent means of improving the voice, but is to be the exception, not the rule, in ordinary reading. Yet the softest tone must be elastic and full of life. To be natural it is not necessary to be dull. I. Gentle. 1. The day is déne, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a féather is wafted downward From an éagle in his flight. 2. “How sweetly,” said the trembling maid, Of her own gentle voice afraid— ~ So long had they in silence stood Looking upon that moonlit flood— “How sweetly does the moonbeam smile To-night upon yon leafy isle!” FORCE. 33 38. I delighted to loll over the quarter-railing, or climb to the main-top, of a calm day, and muse for hours togéther on the tranquil bosom of a summer’s sea; or to gaze upon the piles of golden clouds just peering above the horizon, fancy them some fairy realms, and people them with a creation of my éwn; or to watch the gentle undulating billows rolling their silver volumes, as if to die away on those happy shores. 4. How still the morning of the hallowed day! Mute is the voice of rural labor, hushed The ploughboy’s whistle, and the milkmaid’s song. The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath Of tedded grass, mingled with faded flowers, That yestermorn bloomed waving in the bréeze. Sounds the most faint attract the ear,—the hum Of early bée, the trickling of the déw, The distant bléating midway up the hill. Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud. 5. See how beneath the moonbeam’s smile Yon little billow heaves its breast, And foams and sparkles for a while, And murmuring then subsides to rést. Thus man, the sport of bliss and care, Rises on time’s eventful sea, And having swelled a moment there, Thus melts into etérnity. II. Moderate Force. 1. If we look to what the waters produce, shoals of the fry of fish frequent the margins of rivers, of likes, and of the sea itsélf. These are so happy that they know not what to dé with them- selves. Their Attitudes, their vivacity, their leaps éut of the water, their frolics in it, all conduce to show their excess of spir- its, and are simply the effécts of that excess. 2. People talk of liberty as if it meant the liberty of doing what a man likes. The only liberty that a man worthy the name of a man ought to ask for, is to have all restrictions, inward and out- ward, removed, to prevent his doing what he dughi. 3 34 THE SIXTH READER. 38. Once more: speak cléarly, if you speak at all; Carve every word before you let it fall; Don’t, like a lecturer or dramatic star, Try over hard to roll the British R; Do put your accents in the proper spot; Don’t—let me bég you—don’t say “How?” for “What?” And when you stick on conversation’s burs, Don’t strew the pathway with those dreadful ars. 4, Exert your talents and distinguish yourself, and don’t think of retiring from the world until the world will be sorry that you retire. I hate a fellow whom pride, or cowardice, or laziness, drives into a corner, and who does nothing when he is there but sit and growl. Let him come out as I do, and bark. “ 5. Do not look for wrong and évil— You will find them if you dé; * As you measure for your néighbor He will measure back to you. Look for gdodness, look for gladness, You will méet them all the while; If you bring a smiling visage To the glass, you méet a smile. III. Loud. 1. It is done! Clang of bell and roar of gin! Send the tidings up and down. How the bélfries rock and réel! How the great gins, peal on peal, Fling the joy from town to town! 2. The storm is out; the land is réused; Whiére is the coward who sits well housed? Fie on thee, boy, disguised in curls, Behind the stove, ’mong gluttons and girls. Forth in the van, Man by man! Swing the battle-sword who can! LITCH, OR MODULATION. 35 8. Ho, trumpets, sound a war-note! HO, lictors, clear the way! The knights will ride, in all their pride, Along the streets to-day. IV. Very Loud. 1. Up drawbridge, groom! What, warder, hd! Let the portcdllis fall! 2. Call the watch! call the watch! “HO! the starboard watch ahdy!” 3. Forward, the light brigide! Charge for the gins! 4. They strike! hurrah! the fort has surréndered! Shout! shout! my warrior boy, And wave your cap, and clap your hands for joy. Cheer answer cheér, and bear the cheer about. Ilurrah! hurrah! for the fiery fort is ours. “Victory! victory! victory!” Is the shout. Shout! for the fiery fort is éurs, and the field And the day are ours! VII. PITCH, OR MODULATION. HE proper modulation of the voice is one of the most im- portant elements of expression. In nothing is a reader’s good taste more manifest than in his adaptation of pitch and quality of tone to every different shade of thought and emotion. There can be no expressive reading without such variation. The most musical voice becomes monotonous when continued in one unvarying pitch. Nothing but an appreciation of the sentiment can be a correct guide to the application of these tones. But the broader distinc- tions may be indicated as follows: A high pitch is used in the expression of light and joyous 36 THE SIXTH READER. emotions; in pity, tenderness, and sorrow; and in acute pain, grief and fear. The middle pitch is that of ordinary conversation, and is re- quired in unemotional reading. The pitch becomes lower in proportion to the gravity or solem- nity of a passage. I, High Pitch. 1. The wind, one morning, sprang up from sleep, Saying, “Now for a frolic! now for a léap! Now for a madcap galloping chase! Tl make a commotion in évery place!” 2. Id, they cme, they come, Garlands for every shrine, Strike lyres to greet them hdme, Bring rdses, pour ye wine! Swell, swell the Dorian flite Through the blue triumphal sky, Let the cithron’s tone salute The sons of victory! 3. Oh! then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She comes, In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn by a team of little atomies Athwart men’s néses, as they lie asléep; Her wagon-spokes made of long spinner’s legs ; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces, of the smallest spider’s web; The collars, of the mdonshine’s watery beams: Her whip, of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film; Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat: Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, Made by the joiner Squirrel, or old Grtb, Time out o’ mind the fairies’ céachmakers. ry PITCH, OR MODULATION. 37 4. On, son of Cimon, bravely dn, and Aristides just! Your names have made the field your éwn, your foes are in the dist! 5. Hurrah for the séa! the all-glorious séa! Its might is so wondrous, its spirit so frée! And its billows beat time to each pulse of my soul, Which, impatient, like them, cannot yield to control. II. Middle Pitch. 1. A blind man would know that one was a gentleman and the other a clown by the tones of their voices. 2. A cobbler at Leyden, who used to attend the public dispu- tations held at the academy, was once asked if he understood Latin. ENO,” replied the mechanic, “but I know who is wrong in the argument.” “How?” inquired his friend. “Why, by seeing who is angry first.” 3. There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at its flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows, and in miseries: And we must take the current when it sérves, Or lose our véntures. 4. I should say sincérity, a deep, great, genuine sincérity, is the first characteristic of all men in any way herdic. Not the sincerity that calls itself sincere; ah! nd, that is a very poor matter indéed; a shallow, braggart, cOnscious sincerity; oftenest self-concéit mainly. The Great Man’s sincerity is of the kind he cannot spéak of, is not conscious of. : 5. Friend, if some actor murder Hamlet’s part, No line supplies the Histrio’s want of 4rt— Nay, the more beauty in the wérds prevail, The more it chafes you if the utterance fail. Shakspeare, ill-4cted, do you run to héar? And Burke, ill-sp6ken, would you stay to chéer? 38 THE SIXTH READER. 6. This is the forest priméval! The murmuring pines and the hemlock, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Driids of éld with voices sad and prophétic, Stand like hdrpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bodsoms. Loud from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. III. Low Pitch. 1. “Of old hast Thou laid the foundation of the éarth; and the héavens are the work of Thy hands. They shall pérish, but Thou shalt endtre; yea, all of them shall wax old like a gar- ment; as a vésture shalt Thou change them, and they shall be changed: but Thou art the sime; and Thy years shall have no énd.” 2. When all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view, I’m lost In wonder, love and praise. 3. The stars shall fade away, the sun himsélf Grow dim with age, and Nature sink in yéars; But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhitrt amidst the war of élements, The wreck of matter and the crush of worlds. 4. So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan, that moves To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon; but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dréams. LOW PITCH. 389 IV. Very Low. 1. Hear the tolling of the bélls— Tron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a gréan. 2. "Tis midnight’s holy hour, and silence now Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o’er The still and pulseless world. 8. Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o’er a slumbering world. Silence how déad! and darkness how profound! Nor eye nor listening éar an Object finds. Creation sléeps. "Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause,— An awful pause, prophetic of her énd. 4. Hish! the déad-march wails in the people’s ears, The dark crowd moves, and there are sobs and téars; The black earth yawns, the mortal disappéars! Ashes to ashes, dust to dist; He is gone who seemed so great. 5. Still night ;—and the old church bell hath tolled, With its swinging peal, the passing hour,— Dolorous now, as it tolled of old From the heart of its quarried tower; And it seems to say, As it dies away,— The brazen clang of the tremulous bell,— “Old—old, wéary and old ;— The héart grows 6ld; for the world is cdld,”— Solemnly sighs the far-spent knell. 40 THE SIXTH READER. VIII. TRANSITION. HE following exercises will be found useful in breaking up monotony of style, and in giving a ready command of the voice. The pupil should acquire facility in making the changes of intonation indicated at the margin. The exercise is not with- out use if practiced ‘merely mechanically; but the true way, in this case as in all others, is for the reader to throw himself in sympathy with the sentiment expressed, that he may spontane- ously give the requisite variety of vocal effect independently of the specific directions. 1. Soft. Soft is the strain when Zephyr gently blows, And the smooth stream in smoother ntmbers flows; Loud. But when loud surges lash the sounding shore, The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar, 2. Slow. When Ajax strives some rock’s vast weight to throw, The line, too, labors, and the words move sléw; Quick. Not sd, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Flies o’er the unbending corn and skims along the main. 3. Loud. The combat déepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry! Soft. Ah! few shall part where many méet! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier’s stpulcher. 4. Aspi- Lo, dim in the starlight their white ténts appear! rated. Ride sdftly! ride slowly! the onset is near! More slowly! more softly! the sentry may héar! Joud. Now fall on the foe like a tempest of flime! Strike déwn the false banner whose triumph were shime! Strike, strike for the true flag, for freedom and fame! _TRANSITION.- 41 5. Aspirated. Htsh! hark! did stealing stéps go by? I Pure tone. . Full tone. Gentle. Full tone. Aspirated. . Aspirated. Pure tone. Aspirated. Pure tone. . Aspirated. Pure tone. Soft. Loud. Slow and soft. Slightly aspirated. Came not faint whispers near? N6!—The wild wind hath many a sigh Amid the foliage sere. Her giant form O’er wrathful strge, through blackening storm, Majéstically calm, would gé, Mid the déep darkness, white as snow! But géntler now the small waves glide, Like playful lambs o’er a moéuntain’s side. So stately her béaring, so proud her array, The main she will traverse for ever and aye. Many ports will exilt at the gleam of her mast. Huish! hash! thou vain dreamer! this hour is her last! Hark! distant voices, that lightly Ripple the silence deep! NO; the swans that, circling nightly, Through the silver waters sweep. See I not, there, a white shimmer? Something with pale silken shrine? NO; it is the célumn’s glimmer, ’?Gainst the gloomy hedge of pine. Hark! below the gates unbdarring! Tramp of mén and quick commands! ‘OT is my lord come back from hinting,” And the Duchess claps her hands. Slow and tired came the hunters; Stopped in darkness in the court. “HO, this way, ye laggard hunters! To the hall! What sport, what spdrt. Slow they entered with their master ; In the hall they laid him down. On his coat were leaves and bléod-stains, On his brow an angry frown. 42 THE SIXTH READER. 9. Pure tone. O Freedom, thou art ndt, as poets dréam, 10. 11. Orotund. Loud. Moderate. Loud. Very Loud. Quick and Very Loud. Tone of A fair young girl, with light and delicate limbs, And wavy tresses, gushing from the cap With which the Roman master crowned his slave When he took off the gyves. A bearded man, Armed to the téeth, art thou; one mailéd hand Grasps the broad shiéld, and one the sword; thy brow, Glorious in beauty though it be, is scarred With tokens of old wars; thy massive limbs Are strong with struggling. Once more unto the bréach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English déad! In peace, there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,. Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage. On, on, you noblest English, Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof! Fathers, that, like so many Alexanders, Have, in these parts, from morn till éven fought, And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot; Follow your spirits, and, upon this charge, Cry,—HEAVEN FoR Harry! ENGLAND! AND Sr. GEORGE! The one with yawning made reply: Indifference. ‘What have we séen?—Not much have I! * Trees, meadows, mountains, groves, and streams, Animated tone. Blue sky and clouds, and sunny gleams.” The other, smiling, said the sdme; But with face transfigured and eye of flame: “Trees, meadows, mountains, groves, and stréams! Blue sky and cléuds, and sunny gléams!” TRANSITION, 43 12. Gradually How soft the music of those village bélls, softer. Falling at intervals upon the ear In cadence swéet! now dying all away, Gradually Now pealing loud again, and louder still, louder. Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on. 18. Gradually Ever, as on they bore, more loud, louder. And louder rang the pibroch proud. Gradually At first the sound, by distance tame, softer. Méllowed, along the waters came; And lingering long by cape and bay, Wailed every harsher note away ; Loud. When bursting bolder on the ear, The clans’ shrill gathering they could hear,— Those thrilling sounds that call the might Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight. it. Soft Oro- Father of Garth and héaven! I call thy name! tund. Round me the smoke and shout of battle roll;, My eyes are dazzled with the rustling flame; Father, sustain an untried soldier’s soul, Or life, or dedth, whatéver be the goal That crowns or closes round this struggling héur, Thou knowest, if ever from my spirit stole One déeper prayer, ’twas that no cloud might lower On my young fame!—O héar! God of eternal power ! Loud Oro- Now for the fight—now for the cdinnon peal— tund. Forward—through blood and toil and cloud and fire! Glorious the shout, the shock, the crash of stéel, The volley’s roll, the rdcket’s blasting spire; They shake—like broken waves their squares retire,— On them, hussars !—Now give them rein and héel; Think of the orphaned child, the murdered sire :— Earth cries for blood,—in thtnder on them wheel! This hour to Europe’s fate shall set the triumph- seal! 44 THE SIXTH READER. IX. IMITATIVE MODULATION. OTHING is more natural than to imitate, by the sound of the voice, the quality of the sound or noise which any external object makes, and to form its name accordingly. A certain bird is termed the cuckoo, from the sound which it emits. When one sort of wind is said to whistle, and another to roar ; when a serpent is said to hiss, a fly to buzz, and falling timber to crash ; when a stream is said to flow, and hail to rattle,—the anal- ogy between the word and the thing signified is plainly discern- ible.” But imitation is not confined to single words. The works of poetical and imaginative writers abound in passages which by their melody suggest their meaning. These passages must, from their very nature, receive the interpretation of the voice to convey their full force. The following examples are selected, upon which the pupil may practice in making the sound an echo eof the sense. 1. Tue Power or Worps. Words are instruments of misic; an ignorant man uses them for jargon; but when a master touches them they have unex- pected life and sdul. Some words sound out like drims; some breathe memories sweet as fldtes; some call like a clarionét ; some shout a charge like trumpets; some are sweet as children’s talk; others rich as a mother’s answering back. 2. A Drum. The double, double, double beat Of the thundering drum Cries, Hark! the foes come: Charge, charge! ’tis too late to retreat. 3. WAR AND PEACE. The brazen throat of war had céased to roar. All now was turned to jollity and game. 4. A GIANT. With sturdy steps came stalking on his sight A hideous giant, horrible and high. IMITATIVE MODULATION. 45 5. RUSHING OF THE TIDE. When the tide rushes from her rumbling caves, The rough rock roars; tumultuous boil the waves. 6. Hum or Insects. The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night’s yawning péal. ‘7. HarsH Sounbs. On a sudden open fly The infernal gates, and on their hinges grate Harsh thinder. 8. Harmonious Sounbs. Héaven opened wide Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound, On golden hinges turning. 9. MovEMENTS OF MONSTERS. Part huge of bulk, Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait, Tempest the dcean. 10. SuRGEs. As raging séas are wont to roar, When wintry storm his wrathful wreck does threat, The rolling billows beat the ragged shore. 11. FELLING TREES. Loud sounds the 4x, redoubling strokes on strdkes On all sides round the forest hurls her oaks Heéadlong. Deep echoing groan the thickets hewn, Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down. 12. Sounps HkArRD IN THE CouNTRY. Down the rough slope the ponderous wagon rings; Through rustling corn the hare astonished springs: Slow tolls the village clock the drowsy hour; The partridge bursts away on whirring wings. 46 THE SIXTH READER. 18, LaBorrous AND ImpeTuous MorIon. With many a weary step and many a groan Up the high hill he heaves a huge round sténe: The huge round stone, resulting with a bound, Thunders impetuous ddwn, and smokes along the ground. 14. LANGUAGE COMPARED TO AN ORGAN. O, how our organ can spéak with its many and wonderful voices |— " Play on the soft lute of léve, blow the loud trumpet of war, Sing with the high sesquidltro, or, drawing its full diapason, Shake all the dir with the grand storm of its pedals and stops. 15. BoIsTEROUS AND GENTLE SOUNDS. Two craggy rocks, projecting to the main, The roaring wind’s tempestuous rage restrain: Within, the waves in softer murmurs glide;. And ships secure without their halsers ride. 16. THe WitcHEs’ CALDRON. For a charm of powerful trouble Like a héll-broth boil and bubble, Double, double toil and trouble, Fire burn and caldron bubble. 17. Power oF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Now clear, pure, hard, bright, and one by one, like to hail- stones, Short words fall from his lips fast as the first of a shower,— Now in ‘twofold column, Spondee, Iamb, and Trochee, Unbroke, firm-set, advance, retreat, trampling along,— Now with a sprightlier springiness, bounding in triplicate syllables, Dance the elastic Dactylics in musical cadences on; Now, their voluminous coil intertangling like huge ana condas, Roll overwhelmingly onward the sesquipedalian words. STYLE. Al me STYLE. HE first and most natural use of the voice is in common conversation ; and the ability to read as a cultivated person talks is the foremost accomplishment of a reader. The test to be applied in reading the conversational style is this: Would a listener know whether you were reading or talking? The narrative and descriptive styles are next in regard to flu- ency, and should be read as a person would tell a story with the design to make it interesting to his auditors. The didactic style is more difficult, as there is constant danger of falling into dullness and monotony of manner. It must be read as if earnestly and sympathetically teaching truth to the hearers. The style of public address varies with the nature of the occa- sion which gives rise to it, from a familiar and colloquial manner to a more formal and dignified utterance. It must be free from all mannerisms; and if circumstances demand loudness of voice, it must not be at the sacrifice of a sweet and agreeable quality. The declamatory style is that of the orator on great public occasions. All the vocal effects are, so to speak, magnified. The tones are more full and powerful, the inflections more decisive, the manner more imposing than in ordinary utterance. Dramatic and emotional expression require all the varied re- sources of which the voice is capable ;—“ with this special observ- ance, that you o’erstep not the modesty of nature.” I, Conversational. if f 1. “A fine morning, Mr. Linkinwater,” said Nicholas, entering the office. “Ah!” replied Tim, “talk of the country, indéed! What do you think of this now for a day,—a London day,—éh ?”— “Tt’sa little clearer out of town,” said Nicholas. “Cléarer?” echoed Tim Linkinwater, “you shall see it from my bed-room window.” “You shall see it from mine,” replied Nicholas, with a smile. “Pdoh! pdoh!”.said Tim Linkinwater, “don’t tell me. Country! Nonsénse. What can you gét in the country but new-laid éggs and flowers? I can buy new-laid eggs in Leadenhall market any morning before bréakfast; and as to flowers, it’savorth a run up 48 THE SIXTH READER. stairs to smell my mignonétte, or to see the double wallflower in the back-attic window, at No. 6, in the court.” 2. “But hark! I hear him céming, And mother’s drawing the téa; His step is on the scraper, Run to the door and sée.” The outside latch was lifted, A draft blew in the room; They heard him calling, “ Méther,” And “Abner, fetch a brdom.” He stamped his feet in the entry, And brushed his homespun clothes. “Well, boys.” ‘“Good-évening, Reuben, What néws to-night?” “It sndws!” 8. “He has been very extravagant.”—“ Ah, sir, he has been very unfortunate, not extravagant.”—“ Unfortunate ! Ah, it’s the same thing. Little odds, I fancy. For my part, I wonder how folks can be unfortunate. J was never unfortunate. Nobody néed be unfortunate, if they look after the main chance. Jalways looked after the main chance.”—“ He has had a large family to maintain.”—“ Ah! married foolishly ; no offence to you, ma’ain. But when poor folks marry poor folks, what are they to look for? you know. Besides, he was so foolishly fond of assisting others. If a friend was sick, or in jail, ont came his purse, and then his creditors might go whistle. Now if he had married a woman with money, you know, why then. .. ” : 4. Bingo, why, Bingo! hey, héy—hére, sir, hére.... He’s gone and Off, but he'll be home before us; ‘Tis the most wayward cur e’er mumbled bone, Or dogged a master’s footstep. Bingo loves me Better than ever beggar loved his alms. II. Light Narrative. 1. When I was still a boy and mother’s pride, A bigger boy spoke up to me so kind-like, “Tf you. do like, I’ll treat you with a ride STYLE. 49 In this whéelbarrow.” So then I was blind-like To what he had a-working in his mind-like, And mounted for a passenger inside; And coming to a puddle, pretty wide, He tipped me in, a-grinning back behind-like. So when a man may come to me so thick-like, And shake my hand where once he passed me by, And tell me he would do me this or that, I can’t help thinking of the big boy’s trick-like, And then, for all I can but wag my hat And thank him, I do feel a little shy. 2. Thad a piece of rich, sweet ptdding on my fork, when Miss Louisa Friendly begged to trouble: me for part of a pigeon that stood near me. In my haste, scarce knowing what I did, I whipped the pudding into my mouth, hot as a burning cdal! It was impossible to conceal my agony; my eyes were starting froni their sockets! At last, in spite of shame and resolution, I was obliged to drop the cause of my torment on my plate. 3. The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter “ Little prig;” Bun replied, “You are doubtless very big, But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in togéther To make up a year, And a sphére; And I think it no disgrace, To occupy my place. If I’m not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry: Ill not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track! Talents differ; all is well and wisely pit; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nit.” 50 THE SIXTH READER. III. Narrative and Descriptive. 1. A friend called on Michael Angelo, who was finishing a statue; some time afterwards he called again; the sculptor was still at his work; his friend, looking at the figure, exclaimed, “You have been idle since I saw you last.” ‘“ By nd means,” replied the sculptor; “I have retouched this part and polished that; I have softened this féature and brought out this muscle; I have given more expression to this lip and more energy to this limb.” “Well, wéll,” said his friend, “but all these are trifles.” ‘It may be so,” replied Angelo, “but recollect that trifles make perféction, and that perfection is no trifle.” 2. At the conclusion of the American Revolution, Dr. Franklin, the English ambassador, and the French minister, Vergennes, dixing together at Versailles, a toast from each was célled for and agréed to. The British minister began with: “George IfI.—who, like the sun in his meridian, spreads a luster throughout and enlightens the world.” The French minister followed with: “The illustrious Louis XVI—who, like the moon, sheds his mild and benignant rays on and influences the globe.” Our American Franklin then gave: “George Washington, Com- mander of the American Army—who, like Joshua of old, com- manded the sun and moon to stand still, and they obéyed him.” 3. Patrick Henry, who gave the first impulse to the ball of the Revolution, introduced his celebrated resolution on the Stamp Act, in the Virginia House of Burgesses, in 1765. As he de- scanted on the tyranny of that obnoxious act, he exclaimed: “Cesar had his Britus; Charles the First his Cromwell; and George the Third”— “Treason!” cried the Speaker; “Tréason! -Tréason! Tréason!” re-echoed from every part of the house. It was one of those trying moments which are decisive of character; but Henry faltered not for an instant; and rising to a loftier atti- tude, and fixing on the Speaker an eye flashing with fire, contiv- ued,—“ may profit by these examples: if this be treason, make the mdst of it.” 4. We walked along the road and saw a white and hospitable- looking héuse. The door stood open, and a young mother sat and wept over her dying child. A small boy was standing by STYLE. 51 her side. The little one looked with cunning eyes at his mother, and opened the small hands in which he hid a little butterfly. he had caught and brought with him; and the butterfly waved over the little corpse. The mother looked at it and smiled. She un- derstood certainly the poetry of the incident. 5. Not even the magnificent harbor of Constantinople, in which security, depth, and expanse are combined, can rival the peerless, land-locked Bay of San Francisco. How shall we de- scribe it? You are sailing along the high coast of California, when suddenly a gap is seen, as if the rocks had been rent astin- der: you léave the open décean, and enter the strait. The moun- tains tower so high on either hand that it seems but a stone’s throw from your vessel to the shére, though, in reality, it is a. mile. Slowly advancing, an hour’s sail brings you to where the strait grows still narrower; and lo! before you, rising from the very middle of the waters, a steep rdck towers aloft like a giant warder of the strait. 6. I remember seeing, through Lord Rosse’s telescope, one of those nébule which have hitherto appeared like small masses of vapor floating about in space. I saw it composed of thousands upon thousands of brilliant stars; and the effect to the eye—to mine at least—was as if I had had my hand full of diamonds, and suddenly unclosing it and flinging them forth, they were dispersed as from a cénter, in a kind of partly irrégular, partly fanlike form. And I had a strange feeling of suspense and amazement while I looked, because they did not change their relative position, did not fall—though in the act to fall—but seemed fixed in the very attitude of being flung forth into space. It was most wondrous and beattiful to see. 7. “Having in my youth notions of severe piety,” says a cele- orated Persian writer, “I used to rise in the night to watch, pray, and read the Koran. One night, as I was engaged in these exer- cises, my father, a man of practical virtue, awoke while I was reading. ‘Behold,’ said I to him, ‘thy other children are lost in irreligious slimber, while I alone wake to praise God!’ ‘Son of my soul,’ he answered, ‘it is bétter to sleep than to wake to re- mark the faults of thy bréthren.’” THE SIXTH READER, IV. Didactic. 1. Generally speaking, an author’s style is a faithful copy of his mind. If you would write a ltcid style, let there first be light in your own mind; and if you would write a grand style, you ought to have a grand character. 2. The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake Our thirsty souls with rain ; The blow most dreaded falls to break From off our limbs a chain; -And wrongs of man to main but make The love of Gdd more plain. As through the shadowy lens of éven The eye looks farthest into heaven, On gleams of star and depths of blue The glaring siinshine never knéw. 8. A man’s true wealth hereafter is the good he does in this world to his féllow-man. When he dies, people will say, “‘ What property has he left behind him?” But the angels who examine him will ask, “ What good déeds hast thou sent before thee?” 4, The tastes of men may differ very considerably as to their object, and yet none of them be wrong. One man relishes péetry most; another takes pleasure in .othing but history. One pre- fers cOmedy; another, tragedy. One admires the simple; an- other, the drnamented style. The young are amused with gay and sprightly compositions; the elderly are more entertained with those of a graver cast. Some nations delight in bold pic- tures of manners and strong representations of pdssions; others incline to more correct and regular élegance both in description and séntiment. Though all differ, yet all pitch upon some one beauty which peculiarly suits their turn of mind,—and, therefore, no one has a title to condemn the rést. 5. How often do we sigh for opportunities of doing good, whilst we neglect the openings of Providence in little things which wou!d frequently lead to the accomplishment of most important dseful- ness! Dr. Johnson used to say, “He who waits to do a great deal of good at dnce, will never do any.” Good is done by de- grees. STYLE. 53 6. Be nédble! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping, but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine dwn. vs I have seen A curious child who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shéll; To which, in silence hushed, his very sdéul Listened inténtly; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for mtrmurings from within Were heard—sonorous cadences! whereby, To his belief, the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native séa. —KEven such a shell the universe itself Is to the ear of Faith. V. Public Address. 1. Canning, in a reply to one of Lord Brougham’s speeches, used the following illustration:—In Queen Anne’s reign there lived a very sage and able critic, named Dénnis, who, in his old age, was the prey of a strange fancy that he himsélf had written all the good things in all the good plays that were acted. Every good passage he met with in any author he insisted was his Own. “Tt is none of his,” Dennis would say; “nd, it’s mine!” He went one day to see a new tragedy. Nothing particularly good to his taste occurred till a scene in which a great storm was rep- resented. As soon as be heard the thunder rolling over head, he exclaimed, ‘“'That’s my thunder!” So it is with the honorable and learned géntleman; it’s all his thunder. It will henceforth be impossible to confer any boon, or make any innovation, but he will claim it as his thinder. 2. It is common for men to say that such and such things are perfectly right, very desirable,—but, unfortunately, they are not practicable. Ohn6. Those things which are not practicable are not desirable. There is nothing really beneficial that does not lie within the réach of an informed understanding and a well- directed pursiit. . There is nothing that God has judged good for us that He has not given us the means to accodmplish, both in the nftural and moral world. If we cry like children for the méon, like children we must cry On. 54 THE SIXTH READER. 3. I do not mean to be disrespectful; but the attempt of the Lords to stop the prégress of reform reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion. In the winter of 1824 there set in a great flood upon that town; the tide rose to an incredible height; the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Parting- ton, who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house, with mop and pattens, trundling the mop, squeezing out the sea- water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington’s spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unéqual. The Atlantic Ocean béat Mrs. Partington. She was éxcellent at a slop or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your éase; be quiet and stéady. You will béat Mrs. Par- tington. 4. “Poor Indians! Where are they now? Indeed, this is a truly afflicting consideration. The people here may say what they pléase; but, on the principles of eternal truth and justice, they have no right to this country. They say that they have bought it. Bought it! Yes. Of whdm? Of the poor trembling nadtives, who knew that refusal would be in vain, and who strove to make a merit of necessity by seeming to yield with grace what they knew they had not the power to retain.” 5. Whatéver your lot on earth, is it not better than you desérve? and amidst all your troubles, have not you much to be thankful for? There are sadder hearts than yotrs; go and comfort them, and that will comfort you. Are you ill and saffering? By your gentle patience be an example to those who are suffering tdo. It is the selfish manner in which we live, engrossed by our own troubles, which renders us unmindful of those of 6thers; we hurry through the streets, intent on some business of our own, heeding not the many little acts of kindness we could do for one another which would send us home with a light heart. 6. I do not acknéwledge, sir, the right of Plymouth to the whole rock. Nod, the rock underlies all América; it only crops out here. It has cropped out a great many times in our history. You may recognize it always. Old Pitnam stood upon it at STYLE. 55 Bunker Hill when he said to the Yankee boys, “Don’t fire till you see the whites of their éyes.” Ingraham had it for ballast when he put his little sloop between two Austrian frigates, and threatened to blow them out of the water if they did not respect the broad eagle of the United States. Jéfferson had it for a writing-desk when he drafted the Declaration of Indepéndence and the “Statute of Religious Liberty” for Virginia. VI. Declamatory. 1. Advance, then, ye future generations! We would hail you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places which wé now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence where we are pass- ing, and shall soon have passed, our own human duration. We bid you wélcome to this pleasant land of the fathers. We bid you wélcome to the healthful skies and the verdant fields of New England. We greet your accession to the great inheritance which wé have enjoyed. We welcome you to the blessings of good gévernment and religious liberty. We welcome you to the treasures of science and the delights of learning. We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of doméstic life, to the happiness of kindred, and parents, and chil- dren. We welcome you to the immeasurable blessings of rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, and the light of everlasting trith. 2. “The gentleman, sir, has misconceived the spirit and ténd- ency of Northern instititions. He is ignorant of Northern cha- racter. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach insurrection to the Northern l4borers! Who dre the Northern laborers? The history of your cotntry is théir history. The re- nown of your country is théir renown. The brightness of their doings is emblazoned on its every page. Where is Concord, and Léxington, and Princeton, and Trénton, and Saratoga, and Bun- ker Hill, but in the North? And what, sir, has shed an imper- ishable rendwn on the names of those hallowed spots but the blood, and the struggles, the high daring, ‘and patriotism, and sublime courage of Northern laborers? The whole North is an everlasting monument of the freedom, virtue, intelligence, and in- domitable indepéndence of Northern laborers? G9, sir, go preach insurrection to men like thése!” 56 THE SIXTH READER. 8. “Sir, in the most express térms I deny the cdmpetency of parliament to do this act. I warn you, do not dare to lay your hand on the constitution. I tell you that if, cireumstanced as ou are, you pass this act, it will be a nillity, and no man in Treland will be bound to obéy it. I make the assertion delib- erately. I repéat it, and call on any man who hears me to take down my words. You have not been elected for this ptrpose. You are appointed to make laws, not legislatures.” 4, “TI have returned, nét as the right honorable member has said, to raise another st6rm,—I have returned to protect that constitution, of which I was the pérent and fotnder, from the assassination of such men as the honorable géntleman and his unworthy associates. They are corript—they are seditious— and they, at this very mément, are in a conspiracy against their country! Here I stand for impeachment or trial! I dare accu- sation! I defy the honorable gentleman! I defy the gévern- ment! I defy their whole phalanx! Let them come forth! I tell the ministers I will neither give thém quarter, nor take it!” 5. The right honorable gentleman has called me “an unim- peached traitor.” I ask, why not traitor unqualified by any epi- tnet? I will tell him: it was because he dare not. It was ‘the act of a coward who raises his arm to strike, but has not courage to give the blow. I will not call him villain, because it would be unparliaméntary, and he is a privy coincillor. I will not call him fool, because he happens to be Chancellor of the Exchequer. But I say he is onc who has abused the privilege of Parliament and the freedom of debate to the uttering language, which, if spoken out of the House, I should answer only with a blow! I care not how high his situdtion, how low his character, how con- temptible his spgech; whether a privy councillor or a parasite, my answer would be a blow! 6. L wish for nothing but to breathe in this our island, in com- mon with my fellow-subjects, the air of liberty. I have no am- bition, unless it be to-break your chains and contemplate your glory. I never will be satisfied so long as the meanest cottager in Ireland has a link of the British chain clanking to his rags. He may be naked, he shall nét be in irons. And I do see the time at hand; the spirit is gone forth; the Declaration of Right STYLE. 57 is planted; and though great men should fall 6f, yet the cause shall live; and though he who utters this should die, yet the im- mortal fire shall outlast the humble organ who convéys- it, and the breath of liberty, like the word of the holy man, will not die with the prophet, but survive him. VII. Hmotional. 1. But here I stand and scéff you! here, I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face! Your consul’s mérciful:—for this all thinks. He dares not touch a hair of Catiline! 2. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me About my moneys and my Usances: Still I have borne it with a patient shrig; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. You call me mishelitver, cut-throat ddg, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine Own. Well, then, it now appears, you need my hélp: Go +d, then; you come to me, and you say— “Shylock, we would have moneys.” You say s0; You that did void your rheum upom my béard, And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cir Over your thréshold; méneys is your suit. What should I say to you? Should I not say— “Hath a dég money? Is it possible A ctr can lend three thousand diicats?” or Shall I bend low, and in a bondman’s key, With ‘bated breath and whispering humbleness, Say this— “Fair Sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; You sptrned me sich a day; another time You called me ddg; and for these céurtesies Tl lend you thus much méneys?” 3. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my gréatness! This is the state of man;—to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hépe, to-morrow bléssoms, And bears his blushing honors thick upon him: The third day comes a frést, a killing frést; 58 THE SIXTH READER. And—when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely This greatness is a ripening—nips his root, And then he falls as I do. 4. I could have bid you live, had life been to you the same weary and wasting burden that it is to mé,—that it is to every noble and generous mind. But you, wretch! you could creep through the world unaffected by its various disgraces, its ineffable miseries, its constantly accumulating masses of crime and s0or- row ;—you could live and enjoy yourself, while the noble-minded are betrayed,—while nameless and birthless villains tread on the neck of the brave and long-descended :—you could enjoy yourself like a butcher’s dog in the shambles, battening on garbage, while the slaughter of the brave went on around you! This enjoyment you shall not live to partake of: you shall die, base dog !—and that before yon cloud has passed over the stn! 5. Thou slave, thou wrétch, thou coward, Thou little valiant, great in villainy! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune’s champion, thou dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety! thou art pérjured too, And sooth’st up gréatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thander on my side? Been sworn my séldier! bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy stréngth? And dost thou now fall over to my fées? Thou wear a lion’s hide! doff it for shame, And hang a cAlf’s-skin on those recreant limbs. ‘But well to say, and so to mean,— That sweet accord ts seldom seen.” SiR THomas Wrarr. THE SIxTH READER. I—GOD ALL IN ALL. VERY moment of our lives, we breathe, stand, or move in the temple of the Most High; for the whole uni- verse is that temple. Wherever we go, the testimony to His power, the impress of His hand are there. 2. Ask of the bright worlds around us, as they roll in the everlasting harmony of their circles; and they shall tell you of Him, whose power launched them on their courses. 3. Ask of the mountains, that lift their heads among and above the clouds; and the bleak summit of one shall seem to call aloud to the snow-clad top of another, in proclaim- ing their testimony to the Agency which has laid their deep foundations. 4, Ask of ocean’s waters; and the roar of their boundless waves shall chant from shore to shore a hymn of ascription to that Being, who hath said, “ Hitherto shall ye come and no further.” 5. Ask of the rivers; and as they roll onward to the sea, do they not bear along their ceaseless tribute to the ever- working Energy, which struck open their fountains and poured them down through the valleys? 6. Ask of every region of the earth, from the burning equator to the icy pole, from the rock-bound coast to the plain covered with its luxuriant vegetation; and will you not find on them ail the record of the Creator’s presence? 7. Ask of the countless tribes of plants and animals; and shall they not testify to the action of the great Source of Life? 61 62 THE SIXTH READER. 8. Yes, from every portion, from every department of nature, comes the same voice: everywhere we hear Thy name, O God; everywhere we see Thy love. Creation, in all its depth and height, is the manifestation of Thy Spirit, and without Thee the world were dark and dead. 9. The universe is to us as the burning bush which the Hebrew leader saw: God is ever present in it, for it burns with His glory, and the ground on which we stand is always holy. CoNVERS FRANCIS. IlL—THE SPRING JOURNEY. I. GREEN was the corn,as I rode on my way, *" And bright were the dews,on the blossoms of May, And dark was the sycamore’s shade,to behold, And the oak’s tender leaf was of emerald and gold. Il. The thrush from his holly, the lark from his cloud, Their chorus of rapture sang jovial and loud: From the soft vernal sky to the soft grassy ground, There was beauty above me, beneath, and around. Iii. The mild southern breeze brought a shower from the hill; And yet, though it left me all dripping and chill, I felt a new pleasure as onward I sped, To gaze where the rainbow gleamed broad overhead. Iv. O such be Life’s journey, and such be our skill, To lose in its blessings the sense of its ill; Through sunshine and shower may our progress be even, And our tears add a charm to the prospect of Heaven! BisHor HEBER. THE ELDER BROTHER. 63 IllL—THE ELDER BROTHER. PART FIRST. GENTLEMAN of England had two sons; the elde of whom, eager for adventure, and woary of the re- straints of Home, obtained his father’s permission to go abroad. 2. Ten years later, a traveler, prematurely old, covered with rags and dust, stopped at an inn near the paternal estate. Nobody knew him; although, by his conversation, he appeared to have had some previous acquaintance with the neighborhood. Among other questions, he asked con- cerning the father of the two sons. 3. “O, he’s dead,” said the landlord ;—“ been dead these five years ;—poor old man !—dead and forgotten long ago!” 4. “And his sons?” said the traveler, after a pause ;—“I believe he had two.” 5. “Yes, he had. Thomas and James. Tom was the heir. But he was unsteady; had a roving disposition; gave his father no end of trouble ;—poor old man! poor old man!” And the landlord, shaking his head sorrowfully, drained a good tankard of his own ale, by way of solace to his mel- ancholy reflections. 6. The traveler passed a trembling hand over his own -pale brow and rough beard, and said again,— “But James, the second sane is—alive ?” 7. “You would think so,” said the landlord, smacking his lips. “Things have happened well for him. The old man dead; his brother dead too—” 8. “His brother dead?” said the-traveler with a start. 9. “Dead, or as good as dead. “He went off on his travels ten years ago, and has never been heard of since. So James has come into the estate,—and a brave estate it is; and a gay gentleman is James. What! going, sir?” 10. “I beg your pardon,” said the traveler rising. “ I— I have business with this James.” 64 THE SIXTH READER. 11. He proceeded at once to the house of the younger brother, whom he found just mounting his horse at the door of the paternal mansion. James, taking him for a common beggar, repulsed him rudely; when the traveler cried out, in deep agitation : 12. “James! my brother James! Don’t you know me? I am your long-lost brother Thomas!” 13. “Thomas! Zounds, Tom!” said James in utter as- tonishment. “Where in the name of wonder did you come from ?” 14. “The ship in which I sailed fell into the hands of pirates. I was sold as a slave in Algiers. I have but lately made my escape, and begged my way home. O James!” sobbed forth the wretched man, quite overcome by his emotions. 15. “Bless my heart! Is it possible!” said James, by this time recovering from his surprise, and beginning to think that for him to regain a brother was to lose an estate. “I heard you were dead. I have the best evidence that you are dead! I mean, that my brother Thomas is dead. I don’t know you, sir! You must be an impostor, sir !—Dick, send this beggar away !” 16. And without giving the amazed Thomas a chance to remonstrate or prove the truth of. his story, James leaped upon his horse and galloped off. 17. The elder brother, driven from the house to which he was himself the rightful heir,—penniless, and a stranger in his own country,—returned to the village, where he en- deavored in vain to enlist some old friends of his father in his behalf. His changed appearance justified them in re- fusing to recognize him; and his brother had now grown to be a man of influence whom they feared to offend. At last, however, he found an honest attorney to erect his story and undertake his cause. 18. “If I win it for you,” said he, “you shall give me a thousand pounds. If I fail, I shall expect nothing, as you will have nothing to give. And failure is very likely; for THE ELDER BROTHER. 65 your brother will be exceedingly liberal with your money, and it will be hard to find a judge, or jury, or witness, that he will not be able to bribe. But I will do what I can; and in the mean time I will advance you what money you need to live upon.” 19. Fully satisfied of Thomas’s integrity, and moved by his expressions of gratitude to make still greater exer- tions in his behalf, the attorney resolved to go up to Lon- don, and lay the case before Sir Matthew Hale, the Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench,—a man no less conspic- uous for his abilities than for his upright and impartial character. 20. Sir Matthew listened with patience to the story, and also to the attorney’s suspicions as to the means that would be used to deprive the elder brother of his right. “Go on with the regular process of the law,” said he; “and notify me when the trial is to take place.” 21. The attorney did so; but heard nothing from Sir Matthew in reply. The day of trial came; and the elder brother’s prospects looked dark in the extreme. That morn- ing a coach drove up to the house of a miller in the neigh- boring town. A gentleman alighted and went in. After saluting the miller, he told him he had a request to make, which was that he would exchange clothes with him, and allow his coachman to remain there with the carriage until! the following day. 22. The miller at first thought the stranger was joking; and on being convinced to the contrary, would fain have fetched his best suit; but no,—the stranger would have none but the dusty clothes he had on. The exchange was soon effected, and the stranger, transformed to a white- coated, honest-faced old miller, proceeded on foot to the village where the court was sitting. 66 THE SIXTH READER. IV—THE ELDER BROTHER. PART SECOND, HE yard of the court-hall was crowded with people waiting for the celebrated case to be called. Among them a sturdy miller—who must have come from a distance, since nobody knew him—was seen elbowing his way. The elder brother was there, looking pale and anxious. 2. “Well, my friend,” said the miller, accosting him, “how is your case likely to get on?” 3. “I don’t know,” replied Thomas ;—“ badly, I fear; since I have reason to suppose that both judge and jury are heavily bribed,—while I have to depend solely upon the justice of my cause.” 4. Finding a sympathetic listener, he went on to relate all the circumstances of his case in a simple and sincere manner, which carried conviction with it. 5. “Cheer up, my friend!” said the miller, grasping his hand. “I have had some experience in these cases, and perhaps I can help you a little. If you will follow my advice, it can do no harm, and it may be of use to you.” The elder brother willingly caught at anything that might give the least prospect of success. 6. “Well, then,” said the miller, “when the names of the jury are called over, object to one of them, no matter which. The judge will perhaps ask what your reasons are: then say, ‘I object to him by the rights of an Englishman, without giving my reasons why.’ Then if asked what per- son you would prefer in his place, you can look’ carelessly round and mention me. If J am empaneled, I think I may be of some use to you,—though I can’t promise.” 7. Something in the honest old fellow’s manner inspired confidence, and the elder brother gladly agreed to follow his directions. Soon the trial began. As the names of the jury were called, Thomas rose and objected to one of them. THE ELDER BROTHER. 67 8. “And pray,” said the judge, sternly, “why do you object to that gentleman as juryman?” 9. “T object to him, my lord, by the rights of an English- man, without giving my reasons why.” 10. “ And whom do you wish to have in his place?” 11. “An honest man, my lord, if I can get one!” cried Thomas, looking round. “Yon miller—I don’t know his name ;—I’d like him.” 12. “Very well,” says his lordship, “Ict the miller be sworn.” 13. Accordingly the miller was culled down from the gallery, and empaneled with the rest of the jury. He had not been long in the box, when he observed, going about among the jurymen, a bustling, obsequious little man, who presently came to him, and smilingly slipped five guineas into his hand, intimating that they were a present’ from the younger brotner. - 14. “ Yonder is a very polite man!” said the miller, to his next neighbor in the box. 15. “I may well say so,” said the delighted juryman, “since he has given me ten guineas to drink our friend James’s health.” And, on further inquiry, the miller dis- covered that each man had received double the sum pre- sented to himself. 16. He now turned his whole attention to the trial, which appeared to lean decidedly in favor of the younger brother; for while a few witnesses timidly testified to the plaintiff’s _ striking resemblance to the elder brother, others swore posi- tively that the elder brother was dead and butied. ‘17. When his lordship came to deliver his charge to the jury, he took no notice whatever of several palpable con- tradictions in the testimony of these false witnesses, but proceeded to expatiate upon the evidence as if it had been overwhelmingly in James’s favor. 18. When he had concluded, the usual question was put to the jury: were they all agreed? The foreman rose, with his ten guineas jingling in his pocket, and was about to 68 THE SIXTH READER. reply, supposing all to have been equally convinced with himself, by the same golden arguments; when the miller stepped forward, calling out,—‘“ No, my lord, we are not all agreed !” 19. “And pray,” said his lordship, frowning with con- tempt and impatience, “ what objections have you?” 20. “I have many objections, my lord! In the first place, all these gentlemen of the jury have received ten broad pieces of gold from the younger brother, while I have received but five!” 21. Having made this simple announcement, to the consternation of the court, and to the amusement of the spectators, the supposed seals proceeded to point out the contradictory evidence which had been adduced, in such a strain of eloquence that all enieaeut—eapactallsr the elder brother and the attorney—were filled with amazement. At length the judge, unable to contain himself, called out with vehemence,— Who are you ?—where do you come from ?— what is your name?” 22. To which the miller calmly replied: “I come from Westminster Hall—my name is Matthew Hale—I am Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench; and convinced as I am of your entire unfitness to hold so high a judicial position, from having observed your iniquitous and partial proceed- ings this day, I command you to come down from that tribunal which you have so disgraced. I will try this case myself.” 23. Sir Matthew then ascended the bench in his miller’s coat and wig; ordered a new jury to be empaneled; reéx- amined the witnesses, and drew out confessions of bribery from those who had sworn to the elder brother’s death. He then summed up the case anew, and it was unhesitatingly decided in the elder brother’s favor. THE FINDING OF THE LYRE. 69 V.—THE FINDING OF THE LYRE. I. HERE lay upon the ocean’s shore What once a tortoise served to cover. A year and more, with rush and roar, The surf had rolled it over, Had played with it, and flung it by, As wind and weather might decide it} Then tossed it high, where sand-drifts dry Cheap burial might provide it. IL. It rested there to bleach or tan, The rains had soaked, the suns had burned it; With many a ban the fisherman Had stumbled o’er and spurned it; And there the fisher-girl would stay, Conjecturing with her brother, How in their play the poor estray Might serve some use or other. IIL. So there it lay, through wet and dry, As empty as the last new sonnet, Till by and by came Mercury, And, having mused upon it, “Why here,” cried he, “the thing of things, In shape, material, and dimension! Give it but strings, and, lo, it sings, A wonderful invention!” IV. So said, so done; the chords: he strained, And, as his fingers o’er them hovered, The shell disdained a soul had gained, The lyre had been discovered. O empty. world that round us lies, Dead shell, of soul and thought forsaken, Brought we but eyes like Mercury’s, In thee what songs should waken! JAMES RussELL LOWELL. 70 THE SIXTH READER. VIL—TREATMENT OF THE AMERICAN COLONIES. Y LORDS—I rise with astonishment to see these papers brought to your table at so late a period of this business; papers, to tell us what? Why, what all the world knew helores that the Americans, irritated by repeated injuries, and stripped of their inborn rights and dearest privileges, have resisted, and entered into associations for the preservation of their common liberties. 2. Had the early situation of the people of Boston been attended to, things would not have come to this. But the infant complaints of Boston were literally treated like the capricious squalls of a child, who, it was said, did not know whether it was aggrieved or not. But full well I knew at that time that this child, if not redressed, would soon assume the courage and voice of aman. Full well I knew that the sons of ancestors, born under the same free con- stitution, and once breathing the same liberal air, as Eng- lishmen, would resist upon the same principles and on the same occasions. 3. What has government done? They have sent an armed force, consisting of seventeen thousand men, to dragoon the Bostonians into what is called their duty; and, so far from once turning their eyes to the impolicy and destructive consequence of this scheme, are constantly sending out more troops. And we are told, in the language of menace, that, if seventeen thousand men won’t do, fifty thousand shall. 4, It is true, my lords, with this force they may ravage the country, waste and destroy as they march; but in the progress of fifteen hundred miles can they occupy the places they have passed? ‘Will not a country which can produce three millions of people, wronged and insulted as they are, start up, like hydras, in every corner, and TREATMENT OF THE AMERICAN COLONIES. 71 gather fresh strength from fresh opposition? Nay, what dependence can you have upon the soldiery, the unhappy engines of your wrath? They are Englishmen, who must feel for the privileges of Englishmen. Do you think that these men can turn their arms against their breth- ren? Surely not.