LONGFELLOH DICKENS 4DDIS0N PHILUPS WHITT1ER HOLMES Memory Gems LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. T JHVH i|op t ioj^rig^t Iftu ShelfJB.-5~- UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Standard Selections ELOCUTIONARY DRILL AND MEMORY WORK IN GRAMMAR AND HIGH SCHOOLS COMPILED BY JOHN D. BILLINGS Principal of Webster School, CAMBRiDGErORT, Mass. SSHBS^ , CHICAGO THE INTERSTATE PUBLISHING COMPANY Boston : 30 Franklin Street Copyright, 1886, by The Interstate Publishing Company. Electrotyped by J. S. Ciishing &= Co., Boston. PREFACE. The aim of this collection is to furnish advanced classes in Grammar Schools with a limited supply of material suit- able for elocutionary drill and memory work in connection with the Supplementary Reading now in general use. It will be found equally valuable in High Schools, for the same pur- poses. Only those selections have been chosen whose merit ranks them by common consent among the classics in English literature. To them have been added a few pages of choice extracts from standard authors for use as memory gems. The judgment of the compiler has been largely aided by that of several fellow- teachers, to whom he here expresses his thanks, as well as to Houghton, Mifflin & Co., The J. B. Lippin- cott Company, and Lee and Shepard, for copyright privileges. Cam Bridgeport, Mass., Oct. 15, 1886. CONTENTS. SELECTION PAGE 1 . A Psalm of Life H. W. Longfellow .... 9 2. Scrooge and Marley Charles Dickens .... 10 3. Glories of the Heavens .... Joseph Addison 13 4. House-Cleaning in Olden Times . Francis Hopkinson ... 14 5. Warren's Address before the Battle of Bunker Hill John Pierpont 17 6. The Burial of Moses Mrs. Cecil F. Alexander . 18 7. Lincoln's Dedicatory Speech at Gettysburg 21 8. The Patriot's Elysium James Montgomery ... 22 9. Sir Anthony Absolute and Captain Absolute Richard Brinsley Sheridan 24 10. The Life-Boat 28 1 1 . Tact and Talent 30 12. Old Ironsides Oliver Wendell Holmes . . 32 13. Inestimable Value of the Federal Union Daniel Webster . . , . 33 14. Address to the Mummy .... Horace Smith 36 15. Description of the Sunrise . . . Edward Everett . . . . 39 16. Extract from Elegy written in a Country Church-Yard .... Thomas Gray 41 17. Sheridan's Ride Thomas Buchanan Read . .42 18. Rules for Reading Ralph Waldo Emerson . . 45 19. The Will and the Way .... John G. Saxe 46 20. Catiline's Defiance 47 21. The American Flag Joseph R. Drake .... 48 22. The American War William Pitt 51 23. The Heritage James Russell Lowell . . . 54 24. South Carolina and Massachusetts Da?iiel Webster .... 56 25. Polish War-Song James G. Percival ... 59 6 CONTENTS. SELECTION PAGE 26. The Sleigh-Ride; or, Two Ways of Telling a Story H. K. Oliver 60 27. The Winged W T orshipers .... Charles Sprague .... 65 28. Thoughts on Politeness .... George S. Hillard .... 67 29. The Coral Grove James G. Percival ... 69 30. The Discontented Pendulum . . Jane Taylor 70 31. Independence Bell 73 32. Hallowed Ground ...... Thomas Campbell .... 76 ^. Of Studies Francis Bacon 79 34. Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers . Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans . 81 35. Extract from Emmet's Speech . . 83 36. Charge of the Light Brigade . . Alfred Tennyson .... 85 37. " Matches and Over-Matches " . . Daniel Webster .... 87 38. Extract from Snow-Bound . . . John G. Whitiier .... 89 39. After Marriage Richard Brinsley Sheridan 91 40. The Soldier's Dirge Theodore CHara . . . . 95 41. Speech of Patrick Henry 97 42. New England's Dead Isaac McLellan .... 99 43. O'Connell as an Orator .... Wendell Phillips . . . .101 44. John Maynard 104 45. Last Inaugural of Lincoln 107 46. Marco Bozzaris Fitz- Greene Halleck . . .110 47. The Moneyed Man . . . . . New Monthly Magazine . .113 48. New England James G. Percival . . .116 49. Tom Brown's Visit to Dr. Arnold's Tomb Thomas Hughes . . . .118 Memory Gems * 121 STANDARD SELECTIONS. Standard Selections. I. — A PSALM OF LIFE. H. W. Longfellow; i 807-1 882. 1. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. 2. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; "Dust thou art, to dust retumest," Was not spoken of the soul. 3. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. 4. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. IO STANDARD SELECTIONS. 5. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! 6. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ; Let the dead Past bury its dead : Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead. 7. Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; — 8. Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. 9. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait. II.— SCROOGE AND MARLEY. Charles Dickens; 1812-1870. I. Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial SCROOGE AND MARLEY. II was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the under- taker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it ; and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail. 2. Mind ! I don't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile ; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it ; or the country's done for. You will therefore per- mit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail. 3. Scrooge knew he was dead ? Of course he did. How could it be otherwise ? Scrooge and Marley were partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dread- fully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excel- lent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and solemnized it with an undoubted bargain. 4. Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse door: " Scrooge and Marley." The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people, new to the "business, called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Mar- ley ; but he answered to both names ; it was all the same to him. 12 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 5. Oh ! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- stone, Scrooge ! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scrap- ing, clutching, covetous old sinner ! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out gen- erous fire ; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait ; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue ; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always about with him ; he iced his office in the dog-days ; and did n't thaw it one degree at Christmas. 6. External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No warmth could warm, nor wintry weather chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he ; no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose ; no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather did n't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over him, in only one respect. They often "came down" handsomely, and Scrooge never did. 7. Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, " My dear Scrooge, how are you ? when will you come to see me?" No beggars im- plored him to bestow a trifle ; no children asked him what it was o'clock ; no woman or man ever once, in all his life, inquired the way to such and such a place, of Scrooge. Even the blind-men's dogs appeared to know him ; and when they saw him coming on, would tug GLORIES OF THE HEAVENS. 1 3 their owners into doorways, and up courts ; and then would wag their tails, as though they said, " No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master ! " 8. But what did Scrooge care ? It was the very thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones called "nuts " to Scrooge. Ml. — GLORIES OF THE HEAVENS. 1 Joseph Addison; 1672-1719. 1. The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. Th' unwearied sun, from clay to day, Does his Creator's power display, And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand. 2. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth ; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, 1 Hymn from part of the Nineteenth Psalm. 14 STANDARD SELECTIONS. Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. 3. What though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? What though nor real voice, nor sound, Amidst their radiant orbs be found ? In reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever singing, as they shine, " The hand that made us is divine." o^c IV.— HOUSE-CLEANING IN OLDEN TIMES. Francis Hopkinson; 1737-1791. I. The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The walls are stripped of their furniture — paintings, prints, and looking-glasses lie huddled in heaps about the floors ; the curtains are torn from their testers, the beds crammed into windows ; chairs and tables, bedsteads and cradles crowd the yard ; and the garden-fence bends beneath the weight of carpets, blankets, cloth cloaks, old coats, and ragged breeches. Here may be seen the lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused mass for the foreground of the picture ; gridirons and frying-pans, rusty shovels and broken tongs, joint-stools and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed chairs. There, a closet has disgorged its bowels — riveted HOUSE-CLEANING IN OLDEN TIMES. 1 5 plates and dishes, halves of China bowls, cracked tum- blers, broken wine-glasses, phials of forgotten physic, papers of unknown powders, seeds, and dried herbs, tops of teapots, and stoppers of departed decanters — from the rag-hole in the garret to the rat-hole in the cellar, no place escapes unrummaged. 2. This ceremony completed, and the house thor- oughly evacuated, the next operation is to smear the walls and ceilings with brushes, dipped into a solution of lime called whitewash ; to pour buckets of water over every floor ; and scratch all the partitions and wainscots with hard brushes, charged with soft soap and stone-cutter's sand. 3. The windows by no means escape the general deluge. A servant scrambles out upon the pent-house, at the risk of her neck, and with a mug in her hand, and a bucket within reach, dashes innumerable gallons of water against the glass panes, to the great annoy- ance of passengers in the street. 4. I have been told that an action at law was once brought against one of these water-nymphs, by a person who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by this operation ; but after long argument it was determined that no dam- ages could be awarded, inasmuch as the defendant was in the exercise of a legal right, and not answerable for the consequences. And so the poor gentleman was doubly non-suited, for he lost both his suit of clothes and his suit at law. 5.. These smearings and scratchings, these washings and dashings, being duly performed, the next ceremo- l6 STANDARD SELECTIONS. nial is to cleanse and replace the distracted furniture. You may have seen a house-raising or a ship-launch — recollect, if you can, the hurry, bustle, confusion, and noise of such a scene, and you will have some idea of this cleansing match. The misfortune is, that the sole object is to make things clean. It matters not how many useful, ornamental, or valuable articles suffer mutilation or death under the operation. A mahogany chair and a carved frame undergo the same discipline ; they are to be made clean at all events ; but their pres- ervation is not worthy of attention. 6. For instance: a fine large engraving is laid flat upon the floor; a number of smaller prints are piled upon it, until the superincumbent weight cracks the lower glass — but this is of no importance. A valuable picture is placed leaning against the sharp corner of a table ; others are made to lean against that, till the pressure of the whole forces the corner of the table through the canvas of the first. The frame and glass of a fine print are to be cleaned ; the spirit and oil used on this occasion are suffered to leak through and de- face the engraving — no matter! If the glass is clean and the frame shines, it is sufficient — the rest is not worthy of consideration. An able arithmetician has made a calculation, founded on long experience, and proved that the losses and destruction incident to two whitewashings are equal to one removal, and three re- movals equal to one fire. 7. This cleansing frolic over, matters begin to resume their pristine appearance ; the storm abates, and all WARRENS ADDRESS. 1 7 would be well again, but it is impossible that so great a convulsion in so small a community should pass over without producing some consequences. For two or three weeks after the operation, the family are usually afflicted with sore eyes, sore throats, or severe colds, occasioned by exhalations from wet floors and damp walls. . . . V. — WARREN'S ADDRESS BEFORE THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. John Pierpont; 1785-1866. 1. Stand ! the ground 's your own, my braves ! Will ye give it up to slaves ? Will ye hope for greener graves ? Hope ye mercy still ? What's the mercy despots feel ! Hear it in that battle peal ! Read it on yon bristling steel ! Ask it — ye who will. 2. Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? Will ye to your Jwmes retire ? Look behind you ! they 're afire ! And, before you, see Who have done it ! — From the vale On they come ! — and will ye quail ? Leaden rain and iron hail Let their welcome be ! I 8 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 3. In the God of battles trust ! Die we may — and die we must ; But, oh, where can dust to dust Be consigned so well, As where heaven its dews shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed, And the rocks shall raise their head Of his deeds to tell ? VI. — THE BURIAL OF MOSES. Mrs. Cecil F. Alexander; 1830- ["And He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulcher unto this day." — Deut. xxxiv. 6.] 1. By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab, There Hes a lonely grave. And no man dug that sepulcher, And no man saw it e'er ; For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there. 2. That was the grandest funeral That ever passed on earth ; But no man heard the trampling, Or saw the train go forth. THE BURIAL OF MOSES. 19 Noiselessly as the daylight Comes when the night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun, — 3. Noiselessly as the spring time Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves, — So, without sound of musk Or voice of them that wept, Silently down from the mountain crown The great procession swept. 4. Perchance the bald old eagle, On gray Beth-peor's height, Out of his rocky eyrie Looked on the wondrous sight. Perchance, the lion, stalking, Still shuns that hallowed spot, For beast and bird have seen and heard That which man knoweth not. 5. But when the warrior dieth, His comrades in the war, With arms reversed and muffled drum, Follow the funeral car. They show the banners taken, They tell his battles won, And after him lead his masterless steed, While peals the minute-gun. 20 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 6. Amid the noblest of the land Men lay the sage to rest A And give the bard an honored place, With costly marble dressed, In the great minster transept, Where lights like glories fall, And the choir sings, and the organ rings Along the emblazoned wall. 7. This was the bravest warrior That ever buckled sword ; This the most gifted poet That ever breathed a word ; And never earth's philosopher Traced, with his golden pen, On the deathless page, truths half so sage As he wrote down for men. 8. And had he not high honor — The hillside for his pall, To lie in state while angels wait With stars for tapers tall ; And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, Over his bier to wave ; And God's own hand, in that lonely land, To lay him in the grave ? 9. In that strange grave, without a name, Whence his uncoffined clay Shall break again — O wondrous thought ! — Before the judgment day, ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 21 And stand, with glory wrapped around, On the hills he never trod, And speak of the strife that won our life, With the incarnate Son of God. 10. O lonely tomb in Moab's land ! O dark Beth-peor's hill ! Speak to these curious hearts of ours, And teach them to be still. God hath his mysteries of grace, — Ways that we cannot tell ; He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep Of him he loved so well. oX*o VII. — ABRAHAM LINCOLN; 1809-1865. Speech at the Dedication of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg, Nov. 19, 1863. 1. Fourscore and seven years as;o our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, con- ceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or anv nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.; 2. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we can- 22 STANDARD SELECTIONS. not consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devo- tion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion ; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain ; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that governments of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth. VIII. — THE PATRIOT'S ELYSIUM. James Montgomery; 1771-1854. 1. There is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns dispense serener light, And milder moons imparadise the night ; A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth. 2. The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, THE PATRIOT'S ELYSIUM. 23 Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; In every clime, the magnet of his soul, Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride ; While, in his softened looks, benignly blend The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. 3. Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life ; In the clear heaven of her delighted eye, An angel-guard of Loves and Graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. "Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?" Art thou a man ? — a patriot ? — look around ! Oh ! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home. Be earnest, then, in thought and deed, Nor fear approaching night ; Calm comes with evening light, — And hope, and peace — thy duty heed To-day. 24 STANDARD SELECTIONS. IX. — SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE AND CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. Richard Brinsley Sheridan; 1751-1816. Capt. A. Sir Anthony, I am delighted to see you here, and looking so well ! Your sudden arrival at Bath made me apprehensive for your health. Sir A, Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, you are recruiting here, hey ? Capt. A. Yes, sir, I am on duty. Sir A. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did not expect it ; for I was going to write to you on a little matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not be with you long. Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more strong and hearty ; and I pray fervently that you may continue so. Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been considering that I am so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague you a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the income of your commission, and what I have hitherto allo\yed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your spirit. Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have my boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. SIR ANTHONY AND CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. 2$ Capt. A. Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Yet, sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army ? Sir A. Oh ! that shall be as your wife chooses. Capt. A. My wife, sir ! Sir A. Ay, ay, settle that between you ; settle that between you. Capt. A. A wife, sir, did you say ? Sir A. Ay, a wife: why, did I not mention her be- fore ? Capt. A. Not a word of her, sir. Sir A. Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of is by a marriage ; the fortune is saddled with a wife ; but I suppose that makes no difference ? Capt. A. Sir, sir, you amaze me ! Sir A. What 's the matter with the fool ? — just now you were all gratitude and duty. Capt. A. I was, sir ; you talked to me of indepen- dence and a fortune, but not one word of a wife. Sir A. Why, what difference does that make? Sir, if you have the estate, you must take it with the live stock on it, as it stands. Capt. A. Pray, sir, who is the lady? Sir A. What's that to you, sir? Come, give me your promise to love, and to marry her directly. Capt. A. Sure, sir, that's not very reasonable, to summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of! Sir A. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you to object to a lady you know nothing of, — Capt. A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once for all, that in this point I cannot obey you. 26 STANDARD SELECTIONS. Sir A, Hark ye, Jack ; I have heard you for some time with patience, — I have been cool, — quite cool : but take care ; you know I am compliance itself, when I am not thwarted; no one more easily led, when I have my own way ; but don't put me in a frenzy. Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it ; in this I cannot obey you. Sir A. Now, hang me, if ever I call you Jack again, while I live ! Capt, A. Nay, sir, but hear me. Sir A. Sir, I won't hear a word, not a word ! not one word ! So give me your promise by a nod, and I '11 tell you what, Jack, — I mean, you dog, if you don't by Capt, A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some mass of ugliness ; to Sir A. Zounds ! sirrah! the lady shall be as ugly as I choose : she shall have a hump on each shoulder; she shall be as crooked as the crescent ; her one eye shall roil like the bull's in Cox's museum ; she shall have a skin like a mummy, and the beard of a Jew. She shall be all this, sirrah ! Yes, I '11 make you ogle her all day, and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty. Capt, A. This is reason and moderation, indeed ! Sir A, None of your sneering, puppy! no grinning, jackanapes ! Capt, A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humor for mirth in my life. Sir A. Tis false, sir; I know you are laughing in your sleeve ; I know you '11 grin when I am gone, sir- rah ! SIR ANTHONY AND CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. 2J Capt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. Sir A. None of your passion, sir; none of your vio- lence, if you please ; it won't do with me, I promise you. Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I was never cooler in my life. Sir A. Tis a confounded lie! I know you are in a passion in your heart ; I know you are a hypocritical young dog ; but it won't do. Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my word, — Sir A. So you will fly out ! Can't you be cool, like me ? What good can passion do ? Passion is of no service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! There, you sneer again ! Don't provoke me ! But you rely upon the mildness of my temper, you do, you dog ! You play upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet take care ; the patience of a saint may be overcome at last ! But mark ! I give you six hours and a half to consider of this ; if you then agree, without any con- dition, to do everything on earth that I choose, why, confound you ! I may in time forgive you. If not, don't enter the same hemisphere with me ! don't dare to breathe the same air, or use the same light with me ; but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own : I '11 strip you of your commission : I '11 lodge a five-and-three-pence in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the in- terest. I '11 disown you ; I '11 disinherit you ; and hang me if ever I call you Jack again ! [Exit. Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father, I kiss your hands. 28 STANDARD SELECTIONS. X.— THE LIFE-BOAT. FIRST VOICE. i. Quick ! man the life-boat ! See yon bark That drives before the blast ! There 's a rock ahead, the fog is dark, And the storm comes thick and fast. Can human power, in such an hour, Avert the doom that 's o'er her ? Her mainmast is gone, but she still drives on To the fatal reef before her. ALL. The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! SECOND VOICE. 2. Quick ! man the life-boat ! Hark ! the gun Booms through the vapory air ; And see ! the signal flags are on, That speak the ship's despair. That forked flash, that pealing crash, Seemed from the wave to sweep her ; She's on the rock, with a terrible shock — And the wail comes louder and deeper. ALL. The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! THE LIFE-BOAT. 29 THIRD VOICE. 3. Quick ! man the life-boat ! See the crew- Gaze on their watery grave ; Already some, a gallant few, Are battling with the wave ; And one there stands and wrings his hands, As thoughts of home come o'er him ! For his wife and child, through the tempest wild, He sees on the heights before him. ALL. The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! FOURTH VOICE. 4. Speed ! speed the life-boat ! Off she goes ! And, as they pull the oar, From shore and ship a cheer arose That startled ship and shore. Life-saving ark, yon fated bark Has human lives within her ; And dearer than gold is the wealth untold Thou'lt save if thou canst win her. ALL. On, life-boat ! Speed thee, life-boat ! FIFTH VOICE. 5. Hurrah ! the life-boat dashes on, Though darkly the reef may frown ; 30 STANDARD SELECTIONS. The rock is there — the ship is gone Full twenty fathoms down. But, cheered by hope, the seamen cope With the billows single-handed ; — They are all in the boat ! — hurrah ! they're afloat ! — And now they are safely landed, By the life-boat ! FIRST VOICE. Cheer the life-boat ! ALL. Hurrah ! hurrah for the life-boat ! m XI.— TACT AND TALENT. London Atlas. i. Talent is something, but tact is everything. Talent is serious, sober, grave, and respectable ; tact is all that, and more too. It is not a sixth sense, but it is the life of all the five. It is the open eye, the quick ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the lively touch ; it is the interpreter of all riddles, the sur- mounter of all difficulties, the remover of all obstacles. It is useful in all places, and at all times ; it is useful in solitude, for it shows a man into the world ; it is useful in society, for it shows him his way through the world. 2. Talent is power, tact is skill ; talent is weight, TACT AND TALENT. 3 1 tact is momentum ; talent knows what to do, tact knows how to do it ; talent makes a man respectable, tact will make him respected ; talent is wealth, tact is ready money. For all the practical purposes, tact carries it against talent ten to one. 3. Take them to the theatre, and put them against each other on the stage, and talent shall produce you a tragedy that shall scarcely live long enough to be con- demned, while tact keeps the house in a roar, night after night, with its successful farces. There is no want of dramatic talent, there is no want of dramatic tact ; but they are seldom together : so we have successful pieces which are not respectable, and respectable pieces which are not successful. 4. Take them to the bar, and let them shake their learned curls at each other in legal rivalry ; talent sees its way clearly, but tact is first at its journey's end. Talent has many a compliment from the bench, but tact touches fees. Talent makes the world wonder that it gets on no faster ; tact arouses astonishment that it gets on so fast. And the secret is, that it has no weight to carry ; it makes no false steps ; it hits the right nail on the head ; it loses no time ; it takes all hints ; and by keeping its eye on the weather-cock, is ready to take advantage of every wind that blows. 5. Take them into the church : talent has always something worth hearing, tact is sure of abundance of hearers ; talent may obtain a living, tact will make one ; talent gets a good name, tact a great one ; talent con- vinces, tact converts ; talent is an honor to the profes- sion, tact gains honor from the profession. 32 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 6. Take them to court : talent feels its weight, tact finds its way ; talent commands, tact is obeyed ; talent is honored by approbation, and tact is blessed by prefer- ment. Place them in the senate : talent has the ear of the house, but tact wins its heart, and has its votes ; talent is fit for employment, but tact is fitted for it. It has a knack of slipping into place with a sweet silence and glibness of movement, as a billiard-ball insinuates itself into the pocket. 7. It seems to know everything without learning any- thing. It has served an extemporary apprenticeship ; it wants no drilling ; it never ranks in the awkward squad ; it has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. It puts on no look of wondrous wisdom, it has no air of profundity, but plays with the details of place as dexter- ously as a well-taught hand flourishes over the keys of the piano-forte. It has all the air of common-place, and all the force and power of genius. XII. — OLD IRONSIDES. Oliver Wendell Holmes; 1809- [The following spirited lines were called forth by a rumor that the frigate Constitution was about to be broken up as unfit for service.] I. Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky ; INESTIMABLE VALUE OF THE FEDERAL UNION. 33 Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar ; The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. 2. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, And waves were white below, No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee ; The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea. 3. O, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave ; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave. Nail to the mast her holy flag ; Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms — The lightning and the gale ! o>^o XIII. — INESTIMABLE VALUE OF THE FEDERAL UNION. Daniel Webster; 1782-1852. From the " Reply to Hayne, in the U. S. Senate." I. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole 34 STANDARD SELECTIONS. country, and the preservation of our Federal Union. It is to that Union we owe our safety at home and our consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That Union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues in the severe school of adversity. 2. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under its benign influences these great interests immediately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with new- ness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings ; and although our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our population spread farther and farther, they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social, personal happiness. 3. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the Union to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of pre- serving liberty when the bonds that unite us together shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe coun- sellor in the affairs of this government whose thoughts should be mainly bent on considering, not how the Union should be best preserved, but how tolerable might be the condition of the people when it shall INESTIMABLE VALUE OF THE FEDERAL UNION. 35 be broken up and destroyed. While the Union lasts we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects spread out before us, for us and our children. Beyond that I do not seek to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my day at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant that on my vision never may be opened what lies behind. 4. When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glo- rious Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, belliger- ent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of the republic, now known and honored throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nor a single star obscured, — bearing for its motto no such miserable interrogatory as, What is all this worth ? nor those other words of delusion and folly, Liberty first, and Union afterwards; but everywhere, spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sentiment, dear to every American heart — Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and insepa- ra ^ e ' The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight ; Bat they, while their companions slept, Were toiling upward in the night. 2,6 STANDARD SELECTIONS. . XIV. — ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN BELZONI'S EXHIBITION, LONDON. Horace Smith; 1779-1849. 1. And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) In Thebes's 1 streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium 2 was in all its glory, And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 2. Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted dummy ; Thou hast a tongue — come, let us hear its tune ; Thou 'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy, Revisiting the glimpses of the moon ; Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features. 3. Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect — To whom should we assign the Sphinx's 3 fame? Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect Of either Pyramid that bears his name? 4 1 Thebes was a celebrated city of Upper Egypt, of which extensive ruins still remain. 2 The Memnonium was a building combining the properties of a palace and a temple, the ruins of which are remarkable for symmetry of archi- tecture and elegance of sculpture. 3 The great Sphinx, at the Pyramids, is hewn out of a rock, in the form of a lion with a human head, and is one hundred and forty-three feet in length, and sixty-two feet in height in front. 4 The Pyramids are well-known structures near Cairo. According to Herodotus, the great Pyramid, so called, was built by Cheops (pronounced ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY. 37 Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? 1 Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 4. Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade ; Then say what secret melody was hidden In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played. 2 Perhaps thou wert a priest ; if so, my struggles Are vain ; Egyptian priest ne'er owned his juggles. 5. Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass ; Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat ; Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass ; Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, A torch at the great temple's dedication. 6. I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled ; For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled : — Antiquity appears to have begun Long after thy primeval race was run. Ke'ops). He was succeeded by his brother Cephren (pronounced Se'fren), or Cephrenes (pronounced Se-fre'nez), who, according to the same histo- rian, built another of the Pyramids. 1 Pompey's Pillar is a column almost a hundred feet high, near Alex- andria. It is now generally admitted by the learned to have had no con- nection with the Roman general whose name it bears. 2 This was a statue at Thebes, said to utter at sunrise a sound like the twanging of a harpstring or of a metallic wire. 38 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 7. Since first thy form was in this box extended, We have, above ground, seen some strange muta- tions ; The Roman empire has begun and ended ; New worlds have risen — we have lost old nations, And countless kings have into dust been humbled, While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 8. Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 1 O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 2 And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? 9. If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, The nature of thy private life unfold : — A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast, And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled. Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that face ? What were thy name and station, age and race ? 10. Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead! Imperishable type of evanescence! Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, ' And standest undecayed within our presence, 1 Egypt was conquered 525 B.C., by Cambyses, the second king of Persia. 2 These are the names of Egyptian deities. DESCRIPTION OF THE SUNRISE. 39 Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning. 1 1, Why should this worthless tegument endure, If its undying guest be lost forever? O, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure In living virtue; that when both must sever, Although corruption may our frame consume, The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. XV. — DESCRIPTION OF THE SUNRISE. Edward Everett; 1794-1S65. I. I had occasion, a few weeks since, to take the early train from Providence to Boston, and for this pur- pose rose at two o'clock in the morning. Everything around was wrapt in darkness and hushed in silence, broken only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly clank and rush of the train. It was a mild, serene, mid- summer's night, — the sky was without a cloud, — the winds were whist. The moon, then in the last quarter, had just risen, and the stars shone with a spectral lustre but little affected by her presence. Jupiter, two hours high, was the herald of the day ; the Pleiades, just above the horizon, shed their sweet influence in the east ; Lyra sparkled near the zenith ; Andromeda veiled her newly-discovered glories from the naked eye, in the south ; the steady pointers, far beneath the pole, looked 40 STANDARD SELECTIONS. meekly up from the depths of the north, to their sov- ereign. 2. Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the train. As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight became more perceptible ; the intense blue of the sky- began to soften ; the smaller stars, like little children, went first to rest ; the sister beams of the Pleiades soon melted together ; but the bright constellations of the west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the won- drous transfiguration went on. Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens ; the glories of night dissolved into the glories of the dawn. 3. The blue sky now turned more softly gray ; the great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes ; the east began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed along the sky ; the w r hole celestial concave was filled with the inflowing tides of the morning light, which came pouring down from above in one great ocean of radiance ; till at length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon, and turned the dewy tear-drops of flower and leaf into rubies and diamonds. In a few seconds, the everlasting gates of the morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, began his state. Count that day lost whose low-descending sun Views from thy hand no worthy action done. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. 41 XVI. — EXTRACT FROM ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. Thomas Gray; 1716-1771. 1. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ; The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 2. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 3. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. 4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap, Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 42 STANDARD SELECTIONS. No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees, the envied kiss to share. 7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team afield ! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! 8. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the poor. 9. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave. XVII. — SHERIDAN'S RIDE. Thomas Buchanan Read; 1822- 1. Up from the South at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away. SHERIDAN S RIDE. 43 2. And wider still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon's bar, And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, Making the blood of the listener cold As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, And Sheridan tw r enty miles away. 3. But there is a road from Winchester town, A good, broad highway leading down ; And there, through the flush of the morning light, A steed, as black as the steeds of night, Was seen to pass as with eagle flight. As if he knew the terrible need, He stretched away with his utmost speed ; Hill rose and fell ; but his heart was gay, With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 4. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south, The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth, Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster; The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls ; Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away. 5. Under his spurning feet, the road, Like an arrowy Alpine river, flowed, 44 STANDARD SELECTIONS. And the landscape sped away behind, Like an ocean flying before the wind ; And the steed, with his wild eyes full of fire, Swept on to the goal of his heart's desire : He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away. 6. The first that the general saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. What was done — what to do — a glance told him both ; Then striking his spurs, with a muttered oath, He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas. The sight of the master compelled them to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril's play, He seemed to the whole great army to say, " I have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester down to save the day ! " 7. Hurrah ! hurrah for Sheridan ! Hurrah ! hurrah for horse and man ! And when their statues are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky, The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, There, with the glorious general's name, Be it said, in letters bold and bright : " Here is the steed that saved the day By carrying Sheridan into the fight, From Winchester — twenty miles away ! " RULES FOR READING. 45 XVIII. — RULES FOR READING. Ralph Waldo Emerson ; 1 803-1 882. 1. Be sure, then, to read no mean books. Shun the spawn of the press on the gossip of the hour. Do not read what you shall learn without asking in the street and the train. Dr. Johnson said "he always went into stately shops " ; and good travelers stop at the best hotels, for though they cost more, they do not cost much more, and there is the good company and the best information. In like manner, the scholar knows that the famed books contain, first and last, the best thoughts and facts. Now and then, by rarest luck, in some foolish grub street is the gem we want. But in the best circles is the best information. If you should transfer the amount of your reading day by day from the newspaper to the standard authors, — but who dare speak of such a thing ? 2. The three practical rules, then, which I have to offer are : ist. Never read any book that is not a year old. 2d. Never read any but famed books. 3d. Never read any but what you like ; or, in Shakespeare's phrase, — " No profit goes where is no pleasure ta'en : In brief, sir, study what you most affect. "' Montaigne says, " Books are a languid pleasure " ; but I find certain books vital and spermatic, not leaving the reader what he was ; he shuts the book a richer man. I would never willingly read any others than such. 46 STANDARD SELECTIONS. XIX. — THE WILL AND THE WAY. John G. Saxe; 1816- 1. It was a noble Roman, In Rome's imperial day, Who heard a coward croaker, Before the battle, say : " They 're safe in such a fortress ; There is no way to shake it — " " On ! on ! " exclaimed the hero, " I '11 find a way, or make it ! " 2. Is fame your aspiration ? Her path is steep and high ; In vain he seeks the temple, Content to gaze and sigh ! The shining throne is waiting, But he alone can take it Who says, with Roman firmness, " I '11 find a way, or make it." 3. Is learning your ambition ? There is no royal road ; Alike the peer and peasant Must climb to her abode. Who feels the thirst for knowledge, In Helicon may slake it, If he has still the Roman will To " find a way, or make it ! " CATILINE S DEFIANCE. 47 4. Are riches worth the getting ? They must be bravely sought ; With wishing and with fretting The boon can not be bought. To all the prize is open, But only he can take it Who says, with Roman courage, " I '11 find a way, or make it ! " XX. — CATILINE'S DEFIANCE. Croly's Catiline. 1. "Banished from Rome!" — What's banished, but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe ? " Tried and convicted traitor ! " — Who says this ? Who '11 prove it, at his peril, on my head ? " Banished ! " — I thank you for 't. It breaks my chain ! I held some slack allegiance till this hour ; But now my sword 's my own. Smile on, my lords; I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, I have within my heart's hot cell shut up, To leave you in your lazy dignities. 2. But here I stand and scoff you ; here I fling Hatred and full defiance in your face. 48 STANDARD SELECTIONS. Your consul 's merciful. For this all thanks. He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. " Traitor ! " I go — but I return. This — trial ! Here I devote your senate ! I 've had wrongs, To stir a fever in the blood of age, Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. 3. This day 's the birth of sorrows ! — This hour's work Will breed proscriptions. Look to your hearths, my lords, For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and crimes ; — Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; . Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. XX!. — THE AMERICAN FLAG. Joseph Rodman Drake; 1795-1820. I. When Freedom, from her mountain height, Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there ; THE AMERICAN FLAG. She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial w; With streakings of the morning light ; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land. 2. Majestic monarch of the cloud, — Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, And see the lightning lances driven, When strive the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — Child of the sun ! to thee 'tis given To guard the banner of the free, To hover in th uir smoke, To ward away the battle stroke, And bid it* Mendings shine afar, Like rainbows on the cloud of war, — The harbingers of victory ! 3. Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high, When speaks the signal trumpet tone, And the long line comes gleaming on. Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn, To where thy sky-born glories burn ; 5<0 STANDARD SELECTIONS. And, as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance ; And when the cannon-mouthings loud Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud, And gory sabres rise and fall Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, Then shall thy meteor glances glow, And cowering foes shall sink beneath Each gallant arm that strikes below That lovely messenger of death. 4. Flag of the seas ! on ocean wave Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave ; When death, careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, And frighted waves rush wildly back Before the broadside's reeling rack, Each dying wanderer of the sea Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendors fly In triumph o'er his closing eye. 5. Flag of the free heart's hope and home, — By angel hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven. Forever float that standard sheet ! Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! THE AMERICAN WAR. 5 1 XXII.— THE AMERICAN WAR. William Pitt, Earl of Chatham; 1708-1778. 1. I can not, my lords, I will not, join in congratula- tion on misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery can not save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, if possible, dispel the allusion and the darkness which envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. 2. Can ministers still presume to expect support in their infatuation? Can- Parliament be so dead to its dignity and duty, as to give their support to measures thus obtruded and forced upon them ? Measures, my lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt ! But yesterday, and England might have stood against the world ; now, none so poor as to do her reverence. 3. The people whom we at first despised as rebels, but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted against us ; supplied with every military store, their interest consulted and their ambassadors entertained by our inveterate enemy ! — and ministers do not, and dare not, interpose with dignity or effect. The desperate state of our army abroad is in part known. No man more highly esteems and honors the English troops 52 STANDARD SELECTIONS. than I do ; I know their virtues and their valor ; I know they can achieve anything but impossibilities ; and I know that the conquest of English America is an im- possibility. 4. You can not, my lords, you can not conquer Amer- ica. What is your present situation there ? We do not know the worst ; but we know that in three cam- paigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, and extend your traffic to the shambles of every despot ; your attempts will be forever vain and impotent — doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which you rely ; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your adversaries, to overrun them with the mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — never, never, never ! 5. But, my lords, who is the man that, in addition to the disgrace and mischiefs of the war, ha*s dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage? — to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitants of the woods ? — to delegate to the merciless Indian the defense of disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous war against our brethren ? My lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. 6. But, my lords, this barbarous measure has been defended, not only on the principles of policy and neces- THE AMERICAN WAR. 53 sity, but also on those of morality ; "for it is perfectly allowable," says Lord Suffolk, "to use all the means which God and Nature have put into our hands ! " I am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles confessed; to hear them avowed in this House, or in this country ! 7. My lords, I did not intend to encroach so much upon your attention, but I can not repress my indigna- tion. I feel myself impelled to speak. My lords, we are called upon as members of this House, as men, as Christian men, to protest against such horrible barbarity. "That God and Nature have put into our hands!" What ideas of God and Nature that noble lord may entertain, I know not ; but I know that such detest- able principles are equally abhorrent to religion and humanity. 8. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and Nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife ! — to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devour- ing, drinking the blood of his mangled victims ! Such notions shock every precept of morality, every feeling of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abom- inable principles, and this more abominable avowal of them, demand the most decisive indignation. 9. I call upon that right reverend, and this most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to support the justice of their country. I call upon the bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn ; — upon the judges to interpose the purity of their ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the 54 STANDARD SELECTIONS. honor of your lordships to reverence the dignity of your ancestors, and maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and humanity of my country to vindicate the national character. XXIII. — THE HERITAGE. James Russell Lowell; 1815- 1. The rich man's son inherits lands, And piles of brick and stone and gold ; And he inherits soft, white hands, And tender flesh that fears the cold, Nor dares to wear a garment old ; — A heritage, it seems to me, One would not care to hold in fee. 2. The rich man's son inherits cares ; The bank may break, the factory burn ; Some breath may burst his bubble shares ; And soft, white hands would hardly earn A living that would suit his turn ; — A heritage, it seems to me, One would not care to hold in fee. 3. The rich man's son inherits wants ; His stomach craves for dainty fare ; With sated heart he hears the pants Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare, And wearies in his easy-chair ; — ■ A heritage, it seems to me, One would not care to hold in fee. THE HERITAGE. 55 4. What does the poor man's son inherit ? Stout muscles and a sinewy heart ; A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art ; — A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. 5. What does the poor man's son inherit ? Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things ; A rank adjudged by toil-worn merit ; Content that from employment springs ; A heart that in his labor sings ; — A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. 6. What does the poor man's son inherit ? A patience learned by being poor ; Courage, if sorrow comes, to bear it ; A fellow-feeling that is sure To make the outcast bless his door; — A heritage, it seems to me, A king might wish to hold in fee. 7. O rich man's son ! there is a toil That with all other level stands ; Large charity doth never soil, But only whitens, soft, white hands ; That is the best crop from the lands ; — A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being rich to hold in fee. 56 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 8. O poor man's son, scorn not thy state ! There is worse weariness than thine, In merely being rich and great ; Work only makes the soul to shine, And makes rest fragrant and benign ; • A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being poor to hold in fee. 9. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod, Are equal in the earth at last ; Both children of the same dear God ; Prove title to your heirship vast, By record of a well-filled past ; — ■ A heritage, it seems to me, Well worth a life to hold in fee. XXIV. — SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. From Webster's " Reply to Hayne." I. The eulogium pronounced by the honorable gen- tleman on the character of the state of South Carolina, for her Revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member goes before me in regard for what- ever of distinguished talent or distinguished character South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor, I partake in the pride, of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all — the Laurenses, the SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. 57 Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions — Americans all, whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits. 2. In their day and generation, they served and hon- ored the country, and the whole country ; and their renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him whose honored name the gentleman himself bears — does he esteem me less capable of gratitude for bis patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in his power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright as to produce envy in my bosom ? Xo, sir ; increased grati- fication and delight, rather. I thank God, that, if I am gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that other spirit, which would drag angels clown. 3. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit , because it happens to spring up beyond the little limits of my own state or neighborhood ; when I refuse, for any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere de- votion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an uncom- mon endowment of Heaven — if I see extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the South, and if, moved by local prejudice or gangrened by state jeal- ousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his 58 STANDARD SELECTIONS. just character and just fame — may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth ! 4. Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections, let me indulge in refreshing remembrances of the past ; let me remind you that, in early times, no states cherished greater harmony, both of principle and feeling, than Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God that harmony might again return ! Shoulder to shoul- der they went through the Revolution, hand in hand they stood round the administration of Washington, and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust, are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that same great arm never scattered. 5. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts ; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for Independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every state, from New England to Georgia ; and there they will lie forever. 6. And, sir, where American Liberty raised its first voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it ; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk POLISH WAR-SONG. 59 at and tear it ; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed in separa- ting it from that Union by which alone its existence is made sure, — it will stand, in the end, by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was rocked ; it will stretch forth its arm, with whatever of vigor it may still retain, over the friends who gather round it ; and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of its origin. XXV.— POLISH WAR-SONG. James G. Percival; 1795-1856. 1. Freedom calls you ! Quick, be ready ! Rouse ye in the name of God ! Onward, onward ! strong and steady, — Dash to earth the oppressor's rod. Freedom calls ! ye brave, Rise, and spurn the name of slave ! 2. Grasp the sword ! — its edge is keen ; — Seize the gun ! — its ball is true : Sweep your land from tyrant clean, — Haste, and scour it through and through ! Onward, onward ! Freedom cries, Rush to arms, — the tyrant flies ! 30 By the souls of patriots gone, Wake, — arise, — your fetters break ! 60 STANDARD SELECTIONS. Kosciusko bids you on, — Sobieski cries, Awake ! Rise, and front the despot czar ! Rise, and dare the unequal war ! 4. Freedom calls you ! Quick, be ready ! Think of what your sires have been ! Onward, onward ! strong and steady, — Drive the tyrant to his den. On, and let the watchwords be — . Country, home, and liberty ! o'^c XXVI.— THE SLEIGH-RIDE; OR, TWO WAYS OF TELLING A STORY. H. K. Oliver; 1800-1885. I. In one of the most populous cities of New Eng- land, a few years since, a party of lads, all members of the same school, got up a grand sleigh-ride. There were about twenty-five or thirty boys engaged in the frolic. The sleigh was a very large and splendid estab- lishment, drawn by six gray horses. The afternoon was as beautiful as anybody could desire, and the merry group enjoyed themselves in the highest degree. It was a common custom of the school to which they belonged, and on previous occasions their teacher had accompanied them. Some engagement upon important business, however, occupying him, he was not at this time with them. It is quite likely had it been other- THE SLEIGH-RIDE. 6 1 wise, that the restraining influence of his presence would have prevented the scene which is the main feature of the present story. 2. On the day following the ride, as he entered the schoolroom, he found his pupils grouped about the stove, and in high merriment, as they chatted about the fun and frolic of their excursion. He stopped a while and listened ; and in answer to some inquiries which he made about the matter, one of the lads — a fine, frank, and manly boy, whose heart was in the right place, though his love of sport sometimes led him astray — volunteered to give a narrative of their trip and its various incidents. 3. As he drew near the end of his story, he ex- claimed, " Oh, sir! there was one little circumstance which I had almost forgotten to tell you. Toward the latter part of the afternoon, as we were returning home, we saw, at some distance ahead of us, a queer-looking affair in the road. We could not exactly make out what it was. It seemed to be a sort of half-and-half mon- strosity. As we approached it, it proved to be a rusty old sleigh, fastened behind a covered wagon, proceeding at a very slow rate, and taking up the whole road. 4. " Finding that the owner was not disposed to turn out, we determined upon a volley of snowballs and a good hurrah. These we gave with a relish, and they produced the right effect, and a little more, for the crazy machine turned out into the deep snow, by the side of the road, and the skinny old pony started on a full trot. As we passed, some one who had the whip 62 STANDARD SELECTIONS. gave the old jilt of a horse a good crack, which made him run faster than he ever did before, I '11 warrant. And so, with another volley of snowballs pitched into the front of the wagon, and three times three cheers, we rushed by. 5. "With that, an old fellow in the wagon, who was buried up under an old hat and beneath a rusty cloak, and who had dropped the reins, bawled out, ' Why do you frighten my horse?' 'Why don't you turn out, then ? ' says the driver. So we gave him three rousing cheers more ; his horse was frightened again, and ran up against a loaded team, and, I believe, almost cap- sized the old creature — and so we left him. ,, 6. "Well, boys," replied the instructor, "that is quite an incident. But take your seats, and after our morn- ing service is ended, I will take my turn and tell you a story, and all about a sleigh-ride, too/' Having finished the reading of a chapter in the Bible, and after all had joined in the Lord's prayer, he com- menced as follows : — 7. "Yesterday afternoon, a very venerable and re- spectable old man, and a clergyman by profession, was on his way from Boston to Salem, to pass the residue of the winter at the house of his son. That he might be prepared for journeying, as he proposed to do in the spring, he took with him his light wagon, and, for the winter, his sleigh, which he fastened behind the wagon. He was, just as I have told you, very old and infirm ; his temples were covered with thinned locks, which the frosts of eighty years had whitened ; his sight and THE SLEIGH-RIDE. 63 hearing, too, were somewhat blunted by age, as yours will be should you live to be as old. He was proceed- ing very slowly and quietly, for his horse was old and feeble, like his owner. His thoughts reverted to the scenes of his youth, when he had periled his life in fighting for the liberties of his country ; to the scenes of his manhood, when he had preached the Gospel of his divine Master to the heathen of the remote wilder- ness ; and to the scenes of riper years, when the hard hand of penury had been laid heavily upon him. 8. "While thus occupied, almost forgetting himself in the multitude of his thoughts, he was suddenly dis- turbed, and even terrified, by loud hurrahs from behind, and by a furious pelting and clattering of balls of snow and ice upon the top of his wagon. In his trepidation he dropped his reins ; and, as his aged and feeble hands were quite benumbed with cold, he found it impossible to gather them up, and his horse began to run away. 9. " In the midst of the old man's trouble there rushed by him, with loud shouts, a large party of boys, in a sleigh drawn by six horses. ' Turn out, turn out, old fellow ! ' — ' Give us the road, old boy ! ' — < What '11 you take for your pony, old daddy ? ' — 'Go it, frozen nose ! ' — ' What 's the price of oats ? ' were the various cries that met his ear. " ' Pray do not frighten my horse,' exclaimed the infirm driver. " ' Turn out, then ! turn out ! ' was the answer, which was followed by repeated cracks and blows from the long whip of the ' grand sleigh,' with showers of snow- 64 STANDARD SELECTIONS. balls, and three tremendous huzzas from the boys who were in it. 10. " The terror of the old man and his horse was increased, and the latter ran away with him, to the imminent danger of his life. He contrived, however,. after some exertion, to secure his reins, which had been out of his hands during the whole of the affray, and to stop his horse just in season to prevent his being dashed against a loaded team. 11. "As he approached Salem, he overtook a young man who was walking toward the same place, and whom he invited to ride. The young man alluded to the ' grand sleigh ' which had just passed, which induced the old gentleman to inquire if he knew who the boys were. He replied that he did — that they all belonged to one school, and were a set of wild fellows. " ' Aha ! ' exclaimed the former, with a hearty laugh (for his constant good nature had not been disturbed), ' do they, indeed ! Why, their master is very well known to me. I am now going to his house, and I rather think I shall give him the benefit of this whole story.' 12. "A short distance brought him to his journey's end, — the house of his son. His old horse was com- fortably housed and fed, and he himself abundantly provided for. " That son, boys, is your instructor ; and that aged and infirm old man, that ' old fellow ' and * old boy ' (who did not turn out for you, but who would have gladly given you the whole road had he heard your THE WINGED WORSHIPERS. 65 approach), that ' old boy' and ' old daddy 1 and 'old frozen nose ' was your master's father ! " 13. It is not easy to describe, nor to imagine, the effect produced by this new translation of the boy's own narrative. Some buried their heads behind their desks ; some cried ; some looked askant at each other ; and many hastened down to the desk of the teacher with apologies, regrets, and acknowledgments without end. All were freely pardoned, but were cautioned that they should be more civil for the future to inof- fensive travelers, and more respectful to the aged and infirm. •& &: •& ^& ■SJf' ^Gr •$£■ -^ 14. Years have passed by. The lads are men, though some have found an early grave : the " manly boy" is "in the deep bosom of the ocean buried." They who survive, should this story meet their eye, will easily recall its scenes, and throw their memories back to the " Schoolhouse in Federal Street," and to their old friend and well-wisher, the teacher. »O^Oo XXVII. — THE WINGED WORSHIPERS. Charles Sprague; 1791-1874. I. Gay, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven ? Ye have no need of prayer, Ye have no sins to be forgiven. 66 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 2. Why perch ye here, Where mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend ? 3. Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep ; Penance is not for you, Blessed wanderers of the upper deep. 4. To you 'tis given To wake sweet nature's untaught lays ; Beneath the arch of heaven To chirp away a life of praise. 5. Then spread each wing Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands, And join the choirs that sing In yon blue dome not reared with hands. 6. Or, if ye stay, To note the consecrated hour, Teach me the airy way, And let me try your envied power. 7. Above the crowd On upward wings could I but fly, I 'd bathe in yon bright cloud, And seek the stars that gem the sky. 8. 'Twere heaven indeed Through fields of trackless light to soar, On nature's charms to feed, And nature's own great God adore. THOUGHTS ON POLITENESS. 6j XXVIII.— THOUGHTS ON POLITENESS. George S. Hillard; 1808-1879. 1. Of the gentlemen, young and old, whiskered and un whiskered, that may be seen in Washington Street any sunshiny day, there is not one who does not think himself a polite man, and who would not very much resent any insinuation to the contrary. Their opinion is grounded on reasons something like the following. When they go to a party, they make a low bow to the mistress of the house, and then look round after some- body that is young and pretty to make themselves agreeable to. 2. At a ball they will do their utmost to entertain their partner, unless the fates have given them to some one who is ugly and awkward ; and they will listen to her remarks with their most bland expression. If they are invited to a dinner party, they go in their best coats, praise their entertainer's wine, and tell the lady they hope her children are all well. If they tread on the toes of a well-dressed person, they will beg his pardon. They never spit on a carpet ; and in walking with a lady, they always give her the inside; and, if the prac- tice be allowable, they offer her their arm. 3. So far, very good ; but I must always see a man in certain situations before I decide whether he be polite or not. I should like to see how he would act if placed at dinner between an ancient maiden lady and a coun- try clergyman with a small salary and a rusty coat, and 68 STANDARD SELECTIONS. with some distinguished person opposite to him. I want to see him on a hot and dusty day, sitting on the back seat of a stage-coach, when the driver takes in some poor lone woman, with maybe a child in her arms, and tells the gentleman that one of them must ride outside and make room for her. 4. I want to be near him when his washerwoman makes some very good excuse to him for not bringing home his clothes at the usual time, or not doing up an article in exactly the style he wished. I want to hear the tone and emphasis with which he gives orders to servants in steamboats and taverns. I mark his con- duct when he is walking with an umbrella on a rainy day, and overtakes an old man, or an invalid, or a decent- looking woman, who are exposed, without protection, to the violence of the storm. If he be in company with those whom he thinks his inferiors, I listen to hear if his conversation be entirely about himself. If some of the number be very distinguished, and some quite un- known, I observe whether he acts as if he were utterly unconscious of the presence of these last. 5. These are a few, and but a few, of the tests by which I try a man ; and I am sorry to say there are very few who can stand them all. There is many a one who passes in the world for a well-bred man, be- cause he knows when to bow and smile, that is down in my tablets for a selfish, vulgar, impolite monster, that loves the parings of his own nails better than his neighbor's whole body. Pat any man in a situation where he is called upon to make a sacrifice of his own THE CORAL GROVE. 6q comfort and ease without any equivalent in return, and you wiii iearn the difference between true politeness, that sterling ore of the heart, and the counterfeit imi- tation of it, which passes current in drawing-rooms. XXIX. — THE CORAL GROVE. James G. Percival; 1795-1856. • Deep in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove ; Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with the falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks, the sea-plants lift Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow. The water is calm and still below, For the winds and waves are absent there, And the sands are bright as the stars that glow In the motionless fields of upper air. There, with its waving blade of green, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter. There, with a light and easy motion, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea, yO STANDARD SELECTIONS. And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean Are bending like corn on the upland lea ; And life, in rare and beautiful forms, Is sporting amid those bowers of stone. XXX. — THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. m Jane Taylor; 1783-1824. 1. An old clock, that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchen without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. 2. Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) changed countenance with alarm ; the hands made an ineffectual effort to continue their course ; the wheels remained motionless with surprise ; the weights hung speechless ; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation ; when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice, protested their innocence. 3. But now a faint tick was heard below, from the pendulum, who thus spoke : — " I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present stoppage, and am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged that it was on the point of striking. THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. Jl " Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial-plate, holding up its hands. 4. " Very good," replied the pendulum; "it is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every- body knows, set yourself up above me, — it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness ; you, who have had nothing to do all the days of your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes en in the kitchen. Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and wag backwards and forwards, year after year, as I do." 5. "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window in your house on purpose for you to look through ? " "For all that," resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark here ; and although there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out. Besides, I am really weary of my way of life ; and if you please, I '11 tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. This morning I happened to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course only of the next twenty-four hours ; perhaps some of you above there can give me the exact sum." 6. The minute-hand, being quick at figures, instantly replied, "eighty-six thousand four hundred times." " Exactly so," replied the pendulum. " Well, I appeal to you all if the thought of this was not enough to fatigue one. And when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect : so, /2 STANDARD SELECTIONS. after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I '11 stop." 7. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue ; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied : — " Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that so useful and industrious a person as you are should have been overcome by this sudden suggestion. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time. So have we all, and are likely to do. Would you, now, do me the favor to give about half-a-dozen strokes, to illus- trate my argument ? " 8. The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its usual pace. "Now," resumed the dial, "may I be allowed to inquire if that exertion was at all fatiguing or disagreeable to you ? " "Not in the least," replied the pendulum; "it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions." "Very good," replied the dial; "but recollect that although you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but one ; and that, however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in." "That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the pendulum. "Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, "we shall all immediately return to our duty ; for the maids will lie in bed till noon if we stand idling thus." 9. Upon this, the weights, who had never been ac- cused of light conduct, used all their influence in urg- INDEPENDENCE BELL. 73 ing him to proceed ; when, as with one consent, the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to wag, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever ; and a beam of the rising sun that streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shining full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up as if nothing had been the matter. When the farmer came down to breakfast that morn- ing, upon looking at the clock he declared that his watch had gained half an hour in the night. XXXI. - INDEPENDENCE BELL — JULY 4, 1776. " When it was certain that the ' Declaration ' would be adopted and con- firmed by the signatures of the delegates in Congress, it was determined to announce the event by ringing the old State House bell, which bore the inscription, ' Proclaim liberty throughout the land, to all the inhabitants thereof! ' and the old bellman posted his little boy at the door of the hall to await the instruction of the doorkeeper when to ring. At the word, the little patriot scion rushed out, and flinging up his hands, shouted, ' Ring ! Ring!! RING! ! ! '" I. There was tumult in the city, In the quaint old Quaker town, And the streets were rife with people Pacing restless up and down ; People gathering at corners, Where they whispered each to each, And the sweat stood on their temples, With the earnestness of speech. 74 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 2. As the bleak Atlantic currents Lash the wild Newfoundland shore, So they beat against the State House, So they surged against the door ; And the mingling of their voices Made a harmony profound, Till the quiet street of chestnuts Was all turbulent with sound. 3. " Will they do it ? " " Dare they do it ? " " Who is speaking ? " " What's the news ? " " What of Adams ? " " What of Sherman ? " " O, God grant they won't refuse ! " " Make some way, there ! " " Let me nearer ! " " I am stifling ! " " Stifle, then ; When a nation's life's at hazard, We 've no time to think of men ! " 4. So they beat against the portal — Man and woman, maid and child ; And the July sun in heaven On the scene looked down and smiled ; The same sun that saw the Spartan Shed his patriot blood in vain, Now beheld the soul of freedom All unconquered rise again. 5. Far aloft in that high steeple Sat the bellman, old and gray ; He was weary of the tyrant And his iron-sceptred sway ; INDEPENDENCE BELL. 75 So he sat with one hand ready On the clapper of the bell, When his eye should catch the signal, Very happy news to tell. 6. See ! see ! the dense crowd quivers Throughout all its lengthened line, As the boy beside the portal Hastens forth to give the sign ! With his little hands uplifted, Breezes dallying with his hair, Hark ! with deep, clear intonation, Breaks his young voice on the air. 7. Hushed the people's swelling murmur, — List the boy's strong joyous cry ! "Ring ! " he shouts aloud ; " Ring ! Grandpa ! Ring ! O, Ring for LIBERTY ! " Quickly, at the given signal, The old bellman lifts his hand, Forth he sends the good news, making Iron music through the land. 8. How they shouted ! What rejoicing ! How the old bell shook the air, Till the clang of freedom ruffled The calm, gliding Delaware ! How the bonfires and the torches Lighted up the night's repose, And from flames, like fabled Phoenix, Fair Liberty arose ! y6 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 9. That old State-House bell is silent, Hushed is now its clamorous tongue ; But the spirit it awakened Still is living, — ever young. And when we greet the smiling sunlight On the Fourth of each July, We will ne'er forget the bellman Who, betwixt the earth and sky, Rung out Our Independence ! Which, please God, shall never die ! XXXII.— HALLOWED GROUND. Thomas Campbell; 1 777-1 844. 1. What 's hallowed ground ? Has earth a clod Its Maker meant not should be trod By man, the image of his God, Erect and free, Unscourged by Superstition's rod To bow the knee ? 2. That 's hallowed ground — where, mourned and missed, The lips repose our love has kissed : — But where 's their memory's mansion ? Is 't Yon churchyard's bowers ? No ! in ourselves their souls exist, A part of ours. HALLOWED GROUND. JJ 3. A kiss can consecrate the ground Where mated hearts are mutual bound ; The spot where love's first links were wound, That ne'er are riven, Is hallowed down to earth's profound, And up to heaven ! 4. For time makes all but true love old ; The burning thoughts that then were told Run molten still in memory's mold ; And will not cool, Until the heart itself be cold In Lethe's pool. 5. What hallows ground where heroes sleep? 'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap ! In dews that heavens far distant weep Their turf may bloom ; Or Genii twine beneath the deep Their coral tomb. 6. But strew his ashes to the wind Whose sword or voice has served mankind, And is he dead, whose glorious mind Lifts thine on high ? To live in hearts we leave behind Is not to die. 7. Is 't death to fall for Freedom's right ? He 's dead alone that lacks her lis;ht ! 78 STANDARD SELECTIONS. And murder sullies in Heaven's sight The sword he draws : — What can alone ennoble fight ? A noble cause ! 8. Give that ! and welcome War to brace Her drums ! and rend Heaven's reeking space ! The colors planted face to face, The charging cheer, Though Death's pale horse lead on the chase, Shall still be dear. 9. And place our trophies where men kneel To Heaven ! — but Heaven rebukes mv zeal ! The cause of Truth and human weal, O God above ! Transfer it from the sword's appeal To Peace and Love. 10. What's hallowed ground ? 'Tis what gives birth To sacred thoughts in souls of worth ! — Peace ! Independence ! Truth ! go forth Earth's compass round ; And your high priesthood shall make earth All hallowed ground. Fail! — fail? In the lexicon of youth, which Fate reserves For a bright manhood, there 's no such word As — fail. OF STUDIES. 79 XXXIII. — OF STUDIES. Francis Bacon; i 561-1626. 1. Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring ; for ornament, is in discourse ; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business : for expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of par- ticulars, one by one ; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshaling of affairs come best from those that are learned. 2. To spend too much time in studies, is sloth ; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation ; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a scholar : they perfect nature, and are perfected by ex- perience ; for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need pruning by study ; and studies themselves do give forth directions too much at large, except they be bounded in by experience. 3. Crafty men contemn studies, simple 1 men admire them, and wise men use them ; for they teach not their own use ; but that is a wisdom without them and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider.' 4. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swal- lowed, and some few to be chewed and digested ; that 1 Simple, in old language, often means ignorant ox foolish. 80 STANDARD SELECTIONS. is, some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; * and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but that would 2 be only in the less impor- tant arguments, and the meaner sort of books ; else dis- tilled books are, like common distilled waters, flashy things. 5. Reading maketh a full man, conference 3 a ready man, and writing an exact man ; and therefore, if a man write little, he had need have a great memory ; if he confer little, he had need have a present wit ; 4 and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. 6. Histories make men wise ; poets, witty ; the math- ematics, subtile ; natural philosophy, deep ; moral, grave ; logic and rhetoric, able to contend : Abeunt studia in mores : h nay, there is no stand or impediment in the wit, but may be wrought out by fit studies : like as dis- eases of the body may have appropriate exercises. 7. So, if a man 's wit be wandering, let him study the mathematics ; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again : if his wit be 1 Curiously in the sense of attentively or inquisitively. 2 In Bacon's time, the auxiliaries could, should, and would were often used indiscriminately. Here we should use should, 3 Conference for conversation. So, a little further on, confer for con- verse. 4 In our old writers, wit is very often put for mind, judgment, under- standing. Here, and throughout this piece, it is mind, 6 " Studies pass up into manners and habits." LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 8l not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the schoolmen ; for they are Cymiui sectores : 1 if he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers' cases : so every defect of the mind may have a special receipt. XXXIV. — LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. Felicia Dorothea Hemaxs; 1794-1835. 1. The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; 2. And the heavy night hung dark, The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. 3. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. 4. Not as the flying come, In silence, and in fear ; — 1 "Splitters of cummin," or, as we now say, "hair-splitters." "The schoolmen" are the scholars of the Middle Ages, who spent their force very much in drawing nice and frivolous distinctions; or in splitting hairs. 82 STANDARD SELECTIONS. They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. 5. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea ; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free ! 6. The ocean-eagle soared, From his nest by the white wave's foam ; And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — This was their welcome home. 7. There were men with hoary hair Amidst that pilgrim band : Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land ? 8. There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow, serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. 9. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? — They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 10. Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod : They have left unstained what there they found, Freedom to worship God. EXTRACT FROM EMMET'S SPEECH. 83 XXXV. — EXTRACT FROM EMMET'S SPEECH; 1780-1803. 1. My Lords : What have I to say, why sentence of death should not be pronounced on me, according to law ? I have nothing to say that can alter your prede- termination, or that it would become me to say, with any view to the mitigation of that sentence which you are here to pronounce, and which I must abide. But I have much to say which interests me more than that life which you have labored to destroy. I have much to say, why my reputation should be rescued from the load of false accusation and calumny which has been heaped upon it. 2. Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged guilty by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur. But the sentence of the law which delivers my body to the executioner, will, through the ministry of that law, labor in its own vindication to consign my character to ob- loquy, for there must be guilt somewhere ; whether in the sentence of the court or in the catastrophe, posterity must determine. 3. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port ; when my shade shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes who have shed their blood on the scaffold and in the field in defense of their country and virtue, — this is my hope : I wish that my memory and name may animate these who survive me, while I look 84 STANDARD SELECTIONS. down with complacency on the destruction of that per- fidious government which upholds its domination by blasphemy of the Most High. 4. My lord, shall a dying man be denied the legal privilege of exculpating himself, in the eyes of the com- munity, from an undeserved reproach thrown upon him during his trial, by charging him with ambition, and at- tempting to cast away, for a paltry consideration, the liberties of his country ? Why, then, insult me ? or, rather, why insult justice, in demanding of me why sen- tence of death should not be pronounced ? 5. I am charged with being an emissary of France! An emissary of France ! And for what end ? It is al- leged that I wished to sell the independence of my country! And for what end? Was this the object of my ambition ? and is this the mode by which a tribunal of justice reconciles contradictions ? No, I am no em- issary ; and my ambition was to hold a place among the deliverers of my country ; not in power, nor in profit, but in the glory of the achievement ! 6. I have but one request to ask at my departure from this world ; — it is the charity of its silence. Let no man write my epitaph ; for, as no one who knows my motives dares now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country shall take her place among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be written ! THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 85 XXXVI. — THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. Alfred Tennyson; 1809-. 1. Half a league — half a league — Half a league onward, — All in the valley of Death Rode the Six Hundred ! " Forward, the Light Brigade ! I Charge for the guns ! " he said. Into the valley of Death Rode the Six Hundred ! 2. " Forward, the Light Brigade ! " Was there a man dismayed ? Not though the soldier knew Some one had blundered. Theirs not to make reply ; Theirs not to reason why ; Theirs but to do and die ! Into the valley of Death Rode the Six Hundred ! 3. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them, Volleyed and thundered ; Stormed at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode, and well ; Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the Six Hundred ! 85 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 4. Flashed all their sabers bare, Flashed as they turned in air, Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wondered : Plunged in the battery-smoke, Right through the line they broke ; Cossack and Russian Reeled from the saber-stroke, Shattered and sundered. Then they rode back, but not — Not the Six Hundred ! 5. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them, Volleyed and thundered ; Stormed at with shot and shell, While horse and hero fell, They that had fought so well Came through the jaws of Death, Back from the mouth of Hell, All that was left of them, — Left of Six Hundred ! 6. When can their glory fade ? Oh, the wild charge they made ! All the world wondered. Honor the charge they made ! Honor the Light Brigade — Noble Six Hundred ! " MATCHES AND OVERMATCHES." 8j XXXVII.— '■ MATCHES AND OVERMATCHES." Extract from Webster's Reply to Hayxe. 1. The gentleman inquires why he was made the object of such a reply. Why was he singled out? If an attack has been made on the East, he, he assures us, did not begin it : it was made by the gentleman from Missouri. Sir, I answered the gentleman's speech because I happened to hear it ; and, because, also, I chose to give an answer to that speech which, if un- answered, I thought most likely to produce injurious impressions. I did not stop to inquire who was the original drawer of the bill. I found a responsible indorser before me, and it was my purpose to hold him liable, and to bring him to his just responsibility, with- out delay. But, sir, this interrogatory of the honorable member was only introductory to another. He pro- ceeded to ask me whether I had turned upon him, in this debate, from the consciousness that I should find an overmatch, if I ventured on a contest with his friend from Missouri. 2. If, sir, the honorable member, modes tice gratia, had chosen thus to defer to his friend, and to pay him a compliment, without intentional disparagement to others, it w r ould have been quite according to the friendly courtesies of debate, ana not at all ungrateful to my own feelings. I am not one of those, sir, who esteem any tribute of regard, whether light or occa sional, or more serious and deliberate, which may be 88 STANDARD SELECTIONS. bestowed on others, as so much unjustly withholden from themselves. But the tone and manner of the gentleman's question forbid me thus to interpret it. I am not at liberty to consider it as nothing more than a civility to his friend. It had an air of taunt and disparagement, something of the loftiness of asserted superiority, which does not allow me to pass it over without notice. It was put as a question for me to answer, and so put as if it were difficult for me to answer, whether I deemed the member from Missouri an overmatch for myself in debate here. It seems to me, sir, that this is extraordinary language, and an extraordinary tone, for the discussions of this body. 3. Matches and overmatches! Those terms are'more applicable elsewhere than here, and fitter for other assemblies than this. Sir, the gentleman seems to forget where and what we are. This is a senate, a senate of equals, of men of individual honor and per- sonal character, and of absolute independence. We know no masters, we acknowledge no dictators. This is a hall for mutual consultation and discussion ; not an arena for the exhibition of champions. I offer myself, sir, as a match for no man ; I throw the chal- lenge of debate at no man's feet. But then, sir, since the honorable member has put the question in a man- ner that calls for an answer, I will give him an answer ; and I tell him that, holding myself to be the humblest of the members here, I yet know nothing in the arm of his friend from Missouri, either alone or when aided by his friend from South Carolina, that need deter even SNOW-BOUND. 89 me from espousing whatever opinions I may choose to espouse, from debating whenever I choose to debate, or from speaking whatever I may see fit to say, on the floor of the Senate. XXXVIII. — SNOW-BOUND. John G. Whittier; 1807-. 1. The moon above the eastern wood Shone at its full ; the hill-range stood Transfigured on the silver flood, Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, Dead white, save where some sharp ravine Took shadow, or the "sombre green Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black Against the whiteness at their back. For such a world and such a night Most fitting that unwarming light, Which only seemed where'er it fell To make the coldness visible. 2. Shut in from all the world without, We sat the clean-winged hearth about, Content to let the cold wind roar In baffled rage at pane and door, While the red logs before us beat The frost-line back with tropic heat ; 90 STANDARD SELECTIONS. And ever, when a louder blast Shook beam and rafter as it passed, The merrier up its roaring draught The great throat of the chimney laughed. 3. The house-dog on his paws outspread Laid to the fire his drowsy head, The cat's dark silhouette on the wall A couchant tiger's seemed to fall ; And, for the winter fireside meet, Between the andirons' straddling feet, The mug of cider simmered slow, The apples sputtered in a row, And, close at hand, the basket stood With nuts from brown October's wood. 4. What matter how the night behaved ? What matter how the north-wind raved ? Blow high, blow low, not all its snow Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. Were I so tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean in my span, I must be measured by my soul ; The mind 's the standard of the man. AFTER MARRIAGE. 91 XXXIX. — AFTER MARRIAGE. Richard Brinsley Sheridan; 1751-1816. LADY TEAZLE AND SIR PETER. Sir Peter. 4 Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I '11 not bear it ! Lady Teazle. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it or not, as you please ; but I ought to have my own way in everything ; and what 's more, I will, too. What ! though I was educated in the country, I know very well that women of fashion in London are accountable to nobody after they are married. Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well — so a husband is to have no influence, no authority ? Lady T. Authority ! No, to be sure : — if you wanted authority over me, you should have adopted me, and not married me ; I am sure you were old enough. Sir P. Old enough ! — ay — there it is. Well, well, Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by your temper, I '11 not be ruined by you extravagance. Lady T. My extravagance ! I 'm sure I 'm not more extravagant than a woman ought to be. Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw T away no more sums on such unmeaning luxury. Indeed ! to spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pan- theon 1 into a greenhouse. 1 Panthe' on. A temple dedicated to all the gods. The Pantheon, at Rome, now comparatively in ruins, is one of ihe most splendid remains of the ancients. 92 STANDARD SELECTIONS. Lady T. Why, Sir Peter ! am I to blame because flowers are dear in cold weather ? You should find fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, I 'm sure, I wish it were spring all the year round, and that roses grew under our feet ! Sir P. Zounds ! madam — if you had been born to this, I should n't wonder at your talking thus ; but you forget what your situation was when I married you. Lady T. No, no, I do n't ; 't was a very disagreeable one, or I should never have married you. Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat a humbler style — the daughter of a plain country squire. Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first, sitting at your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits in worsted of your own working. Lady T. O, yes ! I remember it very well, and a curious life I led, — my daily occupation, to inspect the dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap- dog. Sir P. Yes, yes, ma'am, 't was so, indeed. Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amuse- ments ; — to draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not materials to make up ; to play Pope Joan with the curate ; to read a novel to my aunt ; or to be stuck down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after a fox-chase. Sir P. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, AFTER MARRIAGE. 93 madam, these were the recreations I took you from ; but now you must have your coach — vis-a-vis — and three powdered footmen before your chair ; and, in the summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were* content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked coach-horse. Lady T. No — I never did that : I deny the butler and the coach-horse. Sir P. This, madam, was your situation ; and what have I done for you ? I have made you a woman of fashion, of fortune, of rank ; in short, I have made you my wife. Lady T. Well, then ; and there is but one thing more you can make me, to add to the obligation, and that is — Sir P. My widow, I suppose. Lady T. Hem ! hem ! Sir P. I thank you, madam ; but do n't flatter your- self ; for though your ill conduct may disturb my peace of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you : however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint. Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make your- self so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little elegant expense ? Sir P. Indeed, madam, had you any of these little elegant expenses when you married me ? Lady T. Why, Sir Peter ! would you have me be out of the fashion ? Sir P. The fashion, indeed ! What had you to do with the fashion before you married me ? 94 STANDARD SELECTIONS. Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like to have your wife thought a woman of taste. Sir P. Ay, there again — taste. Zounds ! madam, you had no taste when you married me ! Lady T. That's very true indeed, Sir Peter; and af- ter having married you, I should never pretend to taste again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have fin- ished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my en- gagement at Lady Sneerwell's. Sir P. Ay, there's another precious circumstance — a chaxTning set of acquaintance you have made there. Lady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation. Sir P. Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a vengeance ; for they don't choose anybody should have a character but themselves ! — Such a crew ! Ah ! many a wretch has ridden on a hurdle who has done less mis- chief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scan- dal, and clippers of reputation. Lady T. What ! would you restrain the freedom of speech ? Sir P. Ah ! they have made you just as bad as any one of the society. Lady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tol- erable grace. Sir P. Grace, indeed ! Lady T. But I vow I bear no malice against the peo- ple I abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 't is out of pure good-humor ; and I take it for granted they deal THE SOLDIER S DIRGE. 95 exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's too. Sir P. Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my own character. Lady T. Then indeed you must make haste after me, or you'll be too late. So, good by to you. [Exit Lady Teazle. Sir P. So — I have gained much by my intended ex- postulation : yet, with what a charming air she contra- dicts everything I say, and how pleasingly she shows her contempt for my authority ! Well, though I can 't make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrel- ing with her ; and I think she never appears to such advantage as when she is doing everything in her power to plague me. [Exit. XL — THE SOLDIER'S DIRGE. Theodore O'Hara; 1820-1867. I. The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo ; No more on life's parade shall meet That brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping-ground Their silent tents are spread ; And glory guards with solemn round The bivouac of the dead. 96 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 2. No rumor of the foe's advance Now swells upon the wind ; No troubled thoughts, at midnight haunts, Of loved ones left behind ; No vision of the morrow's strife The warrior's dream alarms ; No braying horn, nor screaming fife, At dawn shall call to arms. 3. Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead, Dear as the blood ye gave ; No impious footstep here shall tread The herbage of your grave. Nor shall your glory be forgot, While Fame her record keeps, Or Honor points the hallowed spot Where valor proudly sleeps. 4. Yon faithful herald's blazoned stone With mournful pride shall tell, When many a vanished age hath flown, The story how ye fell. Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's flight, Nor time's remorseless doom, Shall mar one ray of glory's light That gilds your deathless tomb. SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY. 97 XLL— SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY; 1736-1799. 1. Mr. President : It is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous strug- gle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, hear not the things which so nearly concern their tem- poral salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know the worst, and to provide for it. 2. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what has been the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the house. Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received ? Trust it not, sir, it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. As 1 ; yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with those warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation ? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that force must be called in to win back our love ? Let us 98 STANDARD SELECTIONS. not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war, and subjugation — the last arguments to which kings resort. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest is obtained, we must fight ; I repeat it, sir, we must fight. An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts, is ,all that is left us. 3. They tell us, sir, that we are weak, unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next year ? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot ? 4. Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God, who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is NEW ENGLAND S DEAD. 99 not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submis- sion and slavery. Our chains are forged. Their clank- ing may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come ! 5. It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, peace ; but there is no peace. The war is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why stand we here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? What would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! I know not what course others may take, but, as for me, give me liberty or give me death ! XLIL — NEW ENGLAND'S DEAD. Isaac McLellan; i8io-. I. New England's dead ! New England's dead ! On every hill they lie ; On every field of strife made red By bloody victory. Each valley, where the battle poured Its red and awful tide, IOO STANDARD SELECTIONS. Beheld the brave New England sword With slaughter deeply dyed. Their bones are on the northern hill, And on the southern plain, By brook and river, lake and rill, And by the roaring main. 2. The land is holy where they fought, And holy where they fell ; For by their blood that land was bought, The land they loved so well. Then glory to that valiant band, The honored saviors of the land ! Oh ! few and weak their numbers were, — A handful of brave men ; But to their God they gave their prayer, And rushed to battle then. The God of battles heard their cry, And sent to them the victory. 3. They left the plowshare in the mold, Their flocks and herds without a fold, The sickle in the unshorn grain, The corn half garnered, on the plain, And mustered, in their simple dress, For wrongs to seek a stern redress, To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe, To perish, or o'ercome their foe. 4. And where are ye, O fearless men ? O, where are ye to-day ? O COXXELL AS AX ORATOR. IOI I call : — the hills reply again That ye have passed away ; That on old Bunker's lonely height, In Trenton, and in Monmouth ground, The grass grows green, the harvest bright, Above each soldier's mound. The bugle's wild and warlike blast Shall muster them no more ; An army now might thunder past, And they not heed its roan. The starry flag, 'neath which they fought In many a bloody day, From their old graves shall rouse them not, For they have passed away. o>«4 pages of Mr. Gilman's best work for £1.00, with numerous illustrations, docu- ments, etc. The pages have a romantic halo without doing violence to historic accuracy, and there has been a judicious sitting of unimportant facts while retaining enough of detail to give it vivacity. The author has peculiar facility m introducing the student and reader to the habits, customs, and every-day life of the people in every important period of our history." — Journal of Education. " The author has paid less attention to scenes of battle and suffering, and given prominence to the more important social phenomena which mark the growth of the people in the arts of civilization and enlightenment. The rise of slavery, its effect upon Southern life and manners, and its final abolition ; the Webster- Ashburton treaty, the purchase of Louisiana, the policies of the government concerning internal improvements, the questions connected with the admission of Missouri, Texas, and Kansas, the settlement of the Western territories, and the effects of the late civil war; these and other prominent topics are treated in a masterly style, and in the treatment of them the author has evinced a just appreciation of what constitutes the real history of the American people. Another pleasing feature of the work is the prominence given to our eminent men. The writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, the State papers of Alexander Hamilton, "and the poems of H. W. Longfellow have shed lustre upon American literature, and achieved for it a recognition among the scholars of the world. , Another feature of this work, and one which commends it to all Americans, Korth and South, is the absence of sectional feeling, and the patriotic sentiments it breathes in favor of our common country. This work should be in every family and school library. " — Herald of Education. " It is not after the old stereotype plan. The old conventional stories. are not told in the old conventional style. It is full of interesting and valuable matter. Incidents, often fresh and new, anecdotes, biographical sketches, and foot-notes add freshness to the pages." — Education. " The work under consideration has many features which highly com- mend it. The language used could not be better — in fact, it is more like reading a letter from a friend than it is like reading a history. The typo- graphy is perfect, and the illustrations have a freshness about them that is indeed pleasing. These features, combined with the passages devoted to the manners and customs of the past ; extracts from papers, letters, and diaries, put the reader on a familiar footing with the people de- scribed, and place the book far above the average — among the best of its kind." — Carolina Teacher. "Excellent." — Frederick W. Farrar, Canon of Westminster, London, England. " It is my ideal History. It is not a batch of dry historical facts, and yet facts are clearly expressed, but a pleasing story. It is simply superb." — L. Tornlin, Supt. of Schools, Parsons, Kans. From Dr. Henry Goodwin, Bishop of Carlisle, England. Rose Castle, Carlisle, July 3, 1886. "The Bishop of Carlisle acknowledges with much gratitude the re- ceipt of the ' History of the American People ' kindly sent to him by the Interstate Publishing Company. It seems to be just the book for which the Bishop Avas inquiring when lately enjoying a trip (only too short) in the United States." It not infrequently happens that a book written for other purposes is found to have an especial appropriateness for use in the class-room as a text-book. This seems to be the case with Mr. Gilman's History, and it has already found its way into some of the best of American Schools and Col- leges. The reason is found in the fact that it is intensely American ; that the chapters are written in an entertaining style that does not usually characterize text-books; that great prominence is given to the philosophy of our history ; and that it contains an appendix in which the student has laid before him the exact text of documents illustrating our Constitutional history which are not easy to find elsewhere. It will be noticed that there is a singular unanimity of opinion expressed in the above extracts. If any school is in need of such a book, it will be wise to examine this. A sample copy for examination will be mailed to any address on receipt of one dollar. The Interstate Publishing Company, 30 Franklin St., Boston. 183, 185, 187 Wabash Ave., Chicago. "AN ADMIRABLE BOOK.'* The Travelling Law School and Famous Trials. [FIRST LESSONS IN GOVERNMENT AND LAW.] By BENJAMIN VAUGHAN ABBOTT, LLD. INTRODUCTION PRICE 60 GENTS. The author has packed into the two hundred and twenty-eight pages of this volume about as much practical and important in- formation as they can well hold. Although it is put in form espe- cially for the instruction and information of young readers, there is no person outside the legal profession who may not learn from it something he did not know before, touching the laws of the country in themselves, as well as concerning his own rights and privileges under them. In the opening paper the author treats upon the nature of governments — national, state, and local — and shows why they are all necessary. He further describes the manner in which laws are made and administered. The plan of the book presupposes a party of young law students travelling from Boston to Washington, stopping on the way at Philadelphia and New York. They are under the guidance of a teacher, who loses no opportunity of impressing upon them lessons in their profession during their journey. For instance, he explains to them the legal rights of a passenger over a railroad, and supposes certain contingencies where questions of right would come up be- tween travellers and the corporation. An important paper is de- voted to " Bargains and Business," and another to "Money and Banks." A second part of the volume is devoted to an account of some famous trials in this country and Europe. From the Literary World. "The author's object is to give a series of first lessons on forms of government and principles of law. This is done by means of a very slight framework of imagination, a large amount of anecdote and illus- tration, a singularly lucid explanatory style, and a fullness of knowledge that ' backs '"the narrative with manifest strength. The Travelling Law School is a fictitious body, taken about from place to place ; all the ob- jects and experiences encountered on the journey being examined in their legal aspects and relations, and their functions as such pointed out. Things that one can own are discriminated from things that are common property ; Boston, New York, and Washington are differentiated in their civil and political bearings ; the laws of the streets and the railroads, of money and the banks, of wills, evidence, fraud, and so forth and so on, are expounded by means of ' famous trials,' and otherwise in an ingenious, always entertaining, and thoroughly instructive manner. We do not see why a course of instruction along the line of such topics as these would not be a wise feature in many schools of the higher grade, for which Mr. Abbott's book would be an admirable text-book. The study of such a book would be in the nature of a recreation, so full is it of matters of living interest, while of its practical value there could be only one opinion. Structurally it is in two parts, the second of which, entitled 'Famous Trials,' is separately paged." From the N. Y. Daily Sun. " The book is ostensibly written for boys, but it may be heartily com- mended to adult readers of both sexes. It is surprising how much sound law the author manages to insinuate in the guise of interesting incidents and pleasing anecdotes. Even they who are sickened by the scent of sheepskin and law calf, and who would as soon think of entering on a coarse of Calvinistic theology as on a study of jurisprudence, will imbibe through the author's cheerful narrative a good many useful notions of their legal rights and duties, just as children are persuaded to swallow an aperient in the shape of prunes or rigs. "In ' The Travelling Law School,' as the name implies, the reader is invited to accompany a party of young students in a tour through several of the Atlantic States, the incidents of the journey suggesting succinct accounts of the main features of federal, state, and municipal law. A much larger sum of information can be thus informally conveyed in about a hundred pages than would at first sight be deemed possible ; and notwithstanding the suspicion with which lawyers are apt to regard the transmission of knowledge through such a pleasant medium, we are able to vouch in this instance for its accuracy. We have been particu- larly struck by the light which the author manages to throw, in a quick, unaffected way, on the characteristic features of the American Constitu- tion. This hedoes by illustrations drawn from the organic laws of other countries possessing parliamentary institutions, and his references, on the whole, are singularly exact, though he might perhaps have laid more stress on the centralizing tendencies which survive in the executive branch of the French republican government. " The plan followed in ' Famous Trials ' is to take a given topic, like forgery, confessions, mistaken identity or circumstantial evidence, and to illustrate the points best worth remembering by some actual and int^JcSt- ing case in which they were strikingly brought out." The Interstate Publishing Company, 30 Franklin St., Boston. 183, 185, 187 Wabash Ave., Chicago. THE NATURAL ARITHMETIC. By Zalmon Richards, A. M. PRINCIPAL OF THE ECLECTIC SEMINARY, WASHINGTON, D. C. In offering The Natural Arithmetic for use in schools, all that is asked for it is a careful and unbiased examination by those competent to pass judgment on an arithmetical text-book. It is simple ; thorough, and practical. It is brief and inexpensive. It has been prepared to meet the pressing demands of the times. It is based upon a few well-known facts, not usually recognized by other authors. ist, That the essential principles of arithmetic are few ; that there are only four kinds of numbers in common use ; viz : first, units of whole num- bers, or integers ; second, units of tenths, or decimals ; third, units of. vary- ing names, or common fractious ; and, fourth, units of different names ex- pressed in combination, or denominate numbers. 2d, That there are only four ways or methods of using each of these four kinds of numbers : First, the adding of all kinds of numbers ; second, the subtracting of all kinds of numbers ; third, the multiplying of all kinds of numbers; fourth, the dividing of all kinds of numbers. This makes up all there is of pure arithmetic ; and, therefore, the mas- tery of arithmetic requires, first, the ability to read understanding^ all these kinds of numbers ; second, the ability to add them ; third, the ability to sub- tract them; fourth, the ability to multiply them; fifth, to divide them; and, sixth, to apply them to the various demands of life. But to become accurate and rapid in the operations of arithmetic, every pupil must be taught always to bear in mind (a) the real meaning of the numbers to be used; (b) that all numbers to be compared with each otner must have the same denominate value and the same name. Under these conditions they can be used as simple, whole numbers ; and by the observance of them The Natural Arithmetic will simplify and shorten the study of all kinds of fractions, and will remc /e more than half the difficulties in applying the principles of percentage. Every essential principle of arithmetic, from the idea of imity to mensuration of all common surfaces and solids, is embraced in about 130 pages. There are also sufficient illustrations for any ordinary pupil under the instructions of properly qualified teachers. Every teacher can readily under- stand and master the principles and methods, and will soon become de- lighted with the book. The results of using the book will be seen as follows : — 1. The subject of arithmetic will be mastered in one-half the time usually allotted to the study of it. 2. The pupils will acquire a clearer idea of arithmetic, and a greater facility in applying its principles, than is usual. 3. When the pupils have mastered the work, they will feel confident that they unders..«,nd the essential principles of arithmetic. 4. Xot only will much time be saved in using this book, but three-fourths of the usual expense for books on this subject will be avoided. 5. Any ordinary person of mature mind can master the subject of arith- metic, by using this book, without the aid of a teacher. 6. Teachers who will use this book carefully will find the work of teach- ing arithmetic much easier and pleasanter than when using other works. A FEW TESTIMONIALS. " This book is a ' Multum in Parvo; ' but contains every essential arithmetical principle nec- essary for our youth to learn; clearly demonstrated in 122 pages." — N. Y. School Journal. "If the man who causes two blades of grass to grow where but one grew before is a ben- efactor to his race, he who simplifies and shortens the road to knowledge is not less so. And this is what our townsman's little work does. While it is prepared especially for elementary schools, it really seems to contain and explain about all the arithmetical principles absolutely necessary in carrying on the common pursuits of life, and if it receives the recognition its merits deserve, it will speedily take its place among the standard text-books of the country." — Washington Evening Star. "It might well have for its legend ' multnm in parvo.' You have succeeded in clearly presenting all the essential principles of arithmetic, and their applications, within the compass of one small and inexpensive book. Your long experience in the school-room has enabled you to make many practical suggestions which will be very valuable to teachers. I am glad to see one text-book on arithmetic that contains no useless or worse than useless matter, and this feature of yours will commend it to a wide field of usefulness." — J. Or mono 7 Wilson t Washington , D. C " I have looked through The Natural Arithmetic, and am prepared to commend its gen- eral plan. I have long been opposed to the excessive amount of time consumed in public schools in the study of arithmetic, and I welcome every effort to abridge that time. I believe this little book of 122 pages contains all the arithmetic that the ordinary common school-boy needs to learn ; and that in the hands of expert and earnest teachers it will be found practicable and useful." — Hon. John M. Gregory, late U. S. Civil Service Com'r. *' Richards' Natural Arithmetic promises well. As soon as I have a class to which it is adapted I will give it a trial. The trial of the class-room is the only satisfactory test of a school-book. I have known Mr. Richards favorably by reputation for many years, and have confidence in his ability to make a good text-book." — H.A. Pratt, Principal of Pratt 's English and Classical School, Shelbume Falls, Mass. " The plan of the book is much the same as I have used in the Normal School for several years, and has in it all that is essential for the practical arithmetician. I am glad to see this attempt at organizing the subject. It augurs well for the future of arithmetic teaching." — AT. Neivby, Professor of Maiiiemaiics, Indiana State Normal School. INTRODUCTION PRICE, 32 CENTS. A teacher's edition has been prepared, containing an Appendix, with numerous examples for practice, and more detailed explanations of methods. Price of Teacher's Edition, 50 cents. The Interstate Publishing Company, 30 Franklin St., Boston. 183, 185, 187 Wabash Ave., Chicago. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 022 204 584 8