THE UNivERSify OF CALIFORNIA. .VIKT OK' i <* { r B I '..:-.-; ; TIIK LADIES' EEADEE DESIGNED FOR THE TJSE OF 'LADIES' SCHOOLS AND FAMILY HEADING CIRCLES: COMPRISING CHOICE SELECTIONS FROM STANDARD AUTHORS, IN PROSE AND POETRY; WITH THE ESSENTIAL RULES OF ELOCUTION, SIMPLIFIED AND ARRANGED FOR STRICTLY PRACTICAL USB. .JOHN W. S. HOWS, PROFESSOR OF ELOCUTION, AUTHOR OF "TUB I II II Mill I JJ IIJII I Illllllll " " I II I BHAK8PKA.REAN RKADKR," KTC., Kir. UNIVERSITY -NATURE withoin .< f small force, and DISCIPLINE without Nature more feeble: If exerci.M3 <>r tetu'ly l>o void of thsse, it availeth nothing." MILES COVKBDALE PHILADELPHIA: PUBLISHED BY E. H. BUTLER KI> 1C A TED PREFACE. A " LADIES' READER" adapted to the tastes of advanced and intel- ligent pupils is a want so generally acknowledged by Teachers, that the attempt to supply this need has been pressed upon me rather as ^necessity, than from any desire to increase the number of Elocutionary Text Books. "With the young, Elocution must be rendered an attractive study, or it is at best INEFFECTIVE in its results. Examples for practice must be varied "and interesting in their character, or they will not command the attention and sympathies of Pupils : and the selec- tions must afford illustrations of all the varieties and modifications of Elocutionary expression, or the work will be comparatively val- ueless, in the hands of the best Instructors of the Art. An excel- lence that shall be unmistakable in the literary and poetic charac- ter of the selections must be combined with an interest equally ied in the Pieces themselves. Attractiveness and instructiveness are the two essentials which I have endeavored to unite in the present work. A wide field of literature has been embraced in my choice of subjects. The most approved specimens of standard authors have been used, a large portion of which have never before been introduced into " School Readers" and these have been chosen and arranged with a due regard to the development of a purely natural and impressive method of delivery. I have also provided a rich and varied collec- tion of Poetic examples for practice in Modulation, and emotional expression. At the same time I have not neglected a phase of the Art which may be characterized as the " Colloquial style," 6 PBEFACE. and which, in view of its importance as a means of really and practically enlarging the enjoyments of the Family Circle, de- serves a more than generally admitted prominence. From these peculiar features of the work, I venture to anticipate its welcome reception in the Social Reading Circle, although its specific desti- nation is intended for a Text Book in our higher Ladies' Classes in Schools. I need scarcely add that I have carefully revised each Selection, so as to make the entire work perfectly unexceptionable in its tone; I have studiously avoided, also, any sectional or sectarian tendencies in my choice of selections. A brief compendium of Elocutionary Instruction is prefixed to tbe work, comprising all the really needful rules of the Art ; which, from its simplicity and di- rectness, will, I trust, be found acceptable and useful both to Teach- ers and Pupils. JNO. W. S. HOWS. 5 COTTAGE PLACE, NEW Yoinr, June 9, 1859. CONTENTS PART I. PAQH Introduction 15 Articulation 18 Inflection 24 Emphasis 32 Modulation 36 Pauses 37 PART II. EXAMPLES FOR READING AND RECITATION. ARTICLE. AUTIIOU. PAQK Female Education Jwlgf. Mory 39 Tho Wife Washington Irvimj 40 Monument Mountain William CuUen Bryant 4G The Blind Girl of Castel Cuillc Longfellow 49 Outlines of American History Jared Sparks 54 The Cry of the Children Elizabeth Barrett Browning 57 The Bells Edgar A. Poe. 60 Titania, Bottom and Fairies Shakspeare 63 The Ainslie Family Light and Shadows of Scottish Life Professor Wilson 67 Jephthah's Daughter N. P. Willis 73 The Nightingale and the Musician John Ford 75 Mount Vernon Anna Cora Ritchie 76 Una and the Lion Spenser ... 80 The Diver Schiller 81 istmas Carol Tho Cratchit Dinner Dickens 84 The Star and the Water Lily Oliver Wendell Holm-is 91 Chriatabel Coleridge 92 Tho Indian Woman's Lament Mrs. Hemans 93 lialf-Lengths from Life J/r*. Kirldand 95 The Regatta of Venice James Fenimore Cooper M Vlll CONTEXTS. ARTICLE. AUTHOR. PAGE L' Allegro Milton Ill The Passage of the Red Sea Bishop Heber, 114 Paradise and the Peri Moore 116 The Landing of the Mayflower Edward Everett 123 The Two Friends Wordsworth 126 Lady Clara Vere de Yere Tennyson 127 Hiawatha's Wooing Longfellow 129 Robert Burns Fitz-Greene Halleck 135 Richard Doubledick's Story Dickens 137 To a Skylark Shelley 150 Alice Ray. Sarah Jane Hale 152 Shakspeare Charles Sprague. . 154 Coriolanus and Volunmia Shakspeare 155 The Head of Meranon Horace Smith 160 The Dumb Waiter Frederick S. Cozzens 162 The Fate of Andre Alexander Hamilton ] 64 Horatius at the Bridge Macaulay 167 A Woman Never Vext Wittiam Rowley . 173 The Sense of Beauty Channing. 175 The Poet of the Future Alexander Smith 176 The Virginia Gentleman John P. Kennedy 178 The Dying Child Hans Christian Andersen 181 The Apollo Belvidere Henry Theodore^ Tackerman. . 182 A Vision of the Vatican Frances Anne Kemble 185 Hagar in the Wilderness N. P. Willis 185 "The Burnt Aigle" . . Mrs. S. C. Hall 188 The Battle of Life Anna C. Lynch 191 The Month of August William Howiti 193 The Virgin Martyr Massinger 196 My Mother's Bible George P. Morris 197 Description of a Dutch Village Donald G. Mitchell 198 Our Homes Bernard Barton 201 May Percival 202 Wyoming Campbell 203 Mr. Minns and his Cousin Dickens 204 Thank God for Summer Eliza Cook 213 The Snow Flake Hannah F. Gould 214 Imogen at the Cave Shakspeare '216 Invocation to Morning Thomson 218 The Valley of Mexico Wittiam H. Prescott 220 Christopher Columbus Joanna Baillie 221 Conversation Coivper 223 Sleighing Song James T. Fields 224 Sunrise Wordsworth 225 Puddleford and its People H. H. Eiley 234 The Famine, (from Hiawatha) Longfellow 231 St. Agnes Tennyson 234 The Aborigines of America Mrs. Sigourney 235 The Midnight Wind Motherwell 237 Tubal Cain Clias. Mackay 238 Pencil Sketches. (That Man) Miss Leslie 239 Dropping Leaves Mrs. Ann S. Stephen* 249 ONTBNTS. IX ARTICLE. AXJTHOB. PAGE The Evening Wind William Cullen Bryant 251 The Mariner's Hymn Mrs. Southey 252 Sentimental Music Fitz Greene JBaSecJt 253 The Elders Funeral Professor Wilson 254 Palestine Jno. G. Wliittier 260 The Sea Monarch Thomas Buchanan Read. 262 Indian Summer Charles Fenno Hoffman 263 Ancient Iiidian Village Margaret Fuller D'Ossoli. . . . 263 Hellvelljn '. Sir Walter Scott 265 The Raven Edgar A. Poe 266 The Brooklet William Gilmore Simms 270 Poetry and Nature Ralph Waldo Emerson 271 The Widow of Naiu N. P. Willis 273 Spring in Ravenna Leigh Hunt 274 To a Water Fowl William CullenBryant 275 The Falls of Niagara JohnHowison 276 Perdita and her Flowers Shakspeare 281 The Bridge of Sighs Hood 284 Clouds and Sunshine Frederick S. Cozzens 286 May Mora Song. Motherwell 288 A Ballad of Sir John Franklin Geo. H. Hoker. 289 The Land of our Forefathers Edward Everett 291 The Last Crusader Bulwer 292 Ballad from the German Herder 294 The Mourners Eliza Cook 297 Dedication of the Temple of the Sun William Ware 299 The May Queen Tennyson 304 The Skeleton in Armor Ijongfettow .' . . . 309 - of Greenwood Jno. W. S. Hows 313 Hymn to the Beautiful R. II. Stoddard. 316 Abbottsford and Molrost- Bayard Taylor 319 Alice Lee Miss Landon 320 The ( :-l Mrs. Norton 322 Mosses from an old Manse Hawthorne 323 Italy Byron 326 The Escape of Queen Mary from Loch- leven Castle Sir Walter Scott 328 There is a sweetness in woman's decay, Percival 334 Poets and Poesy Lamartine 336 True Woman Motherwell 338 The Bugle Song Tennyson 339 iwken.... Fitz- Greene Halleck 339 The Pride of Ancestrj Daniel Webster 340 The Raising of Jairus's Daughter Mrs. Anna Cora Ritchie 342 The Dying Improvisatore Mrs. Hemans 344 i- -terif tics of re Carlyk 34R Tli" Taming of the Shruw Shakspeare 348 Alexander Pope 353 William Cullen Bryant 355 The Song of the Shirt Hood 361 The Last Vendue Rev. Ralph Hoyt 363 The Storm Ship Washington Irving 365 1* X CONTENTS. ARTICLE. AUTHOR. PAOZ Description of the Chase James Sheridan Knowles 371 The Last Plague of Egypt Eev. A. Cleveland Coxe 373 Return of the Wept of Wish-ton-wish . . James Fenimore Cooper 374 The Autumn Leaf , John A. Hoivs 381 The Flowers of the Field John Kelle 381 Sabbath in New England Catherine M. Sedgwick 383 Bingen on the Ehine Mrs. Norton 385 The Delaware Water Gap Mrs. E. F. Ettet 38G Family Pictures Mr. Britain and his Spouse Dickens 388 Parrhasius N. P. Willis 392 Eome Byron 393 The Execution of Queen Mary Lamartine 394 Earth with her thousand voices praises God Longfellow 396 William Tell James Sheridan Knowles 398 A Thanksgiving Dinner Mrs. Ann S. Stephens 403 The Death of Leonidas Rev. George Croly 409 The Pilgrim s Vision. Oliver Wendell Holmes 411 The Hunter, (a Legend,) J. G. Whitlier 413 Love of the Beautiful John RusMn 414 The Merry Month of June James Russell Lowell 416 The Constancy of Nature Richard If. Dana 417 On Vulgarity and Affectation William Hazlilt 418 Sounds Elizabeth Barrett Browning. . . 41 9 The Country Clergyman Oliver Goldsmith 422 On the Being of a God Young 423 The Bible . . , . GrimU. . . . 424 INDEX OF AUTHORS. ATTTnOR. PAGB Andersen, Hans Christian 181 Baillie, Joanna 221 Barton, Bernard 201 Boker, Geo. H. 289 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett 57, 419 Bryant, William Cullen 40, 251, 275, 355 Bulwer, Sir Edward Lytton. 292 Byron, Lord 326, 393 Campbell, Thomas 203 Carlyle, Thomas 346 Channincr, W. E 175 Coleridge, S. T 92 Cook, Eliza. 213, 297 Cooper, James Fenimore 99, 374 Cowper, William 223 Coxe, Rev. A. Cleveland 373 Cozzens, Frederick 8 162, 286 Croly, Rev. George 409 Dana, Richard H 417 Dickens, Charles 84, 137, 204, 388 D'Ossoli, Margaret Fuller 263 Kllct, Mrs. E. V 386 Emerson, R. W 271 Everett, Edward 123, 291 Fields, James T 224 Ford, John 75 Goldsmith, Oliver 422 Gould, Hannah F 214 Grimke 424 Hale, Sarah Jane 152 ] lall, Mrs. S. G 188 Halleck, Fitz-Greene 135, 253, 339 Hamilton, Alexander 164 Hawthorne, Nathaniel 323 Xll INDEX OF AUTHOKS. AUTHOB. PACK Hazlitt, William 418 Heber, Bishop 114 Hemans, Mrs 93, 344 Herder, J. G- 294 Hoffman, Charles Fenno 263 Holmes, Oliver Wendell 91, 411 Hood, Thomas 284, 361 Howison, John 276 Howitt, Win 193 Hows, Jno. W. S 313 Hows, Jno. A 381 Hoyt, Eev. Ralph 363 Hunt, Leigh 274 Irving, Washington 40, 365 Keble, John 381 Kemble, Mrs. Frances Anne , 185 Kennedy, John P 178 Kirkland, Mrs 95 Knowles, James Sheridan 371, 398 Lamartine 336, 394 Landon, Miss 320 Leslie, Miss 239 Lowell, James Russell 416 Longfellow, H. W 49, 129, 231, 309, 396 Lynch, Anna C 191 Macaulay, T. Babington 167 Mackay, Charles 238 Massinger 196 Milton, John Ill Mitchell, D. G 198 Moore, Thomas 116 Morris, G. P 197 Motherwell, William 237, 288, 338 Norton, Mrs 322, 385 Percival, J. G 202, 334 Poe, Edgar A 60, 266 Pope, Alexander. 353 Prescott, William H 220 Read, Thomas Buchanan 262 Riley, H. H 224 Ritchie, Anna Cora 96, 342 Rowley, William 173 Ruskin, John 414 Schiller, Frederic 81 Scott, Sir Walter. 265, 328 Sedgwick, Catherine M 383 Shakspeare 63, 155, 216, 281, 348 Shelley, Percy Bysshe 150 Sigourney, Mrs 235 Simms, Wm. Gilmore 270 Smith, Alexander 176 Smith, Horace 160 INDEX OF AUTHORS. XU1 AUTHOR. PAOB Southey, Mrs 252 Sparks, Jared 54 Spenser, Edmund 80 Sprague, Charles 154 Stephens, Mrs. Ann S 249, 403 Stoddard, R. II 316 Story, Judge 39 Taylor, Bayard 319 Tennyson, Alfred 127, 234, 304, 339 Thomson, James 218 Tuckerman, Henry Theodore 182 Ware, William 299 Webster, Daniel 340 Whittier, J. G 260, 413 Willis, N. P 4 73, 185, 273, 392 Wilson, Professor 67, 254 Wordsworth, William 126, 225 Young, Rev. Edward 423 INTRODUCTION. THE PRINCIFUKS Oil' itl-LOCUTION". THAT the study and practice of ELOCUTION should form a branch in our systems of Education, is now generally conceded. The true method of conveying a knowledge of this art is, however, still open to jnncli discussion. cry large class of intelligent and educated persons adopt the radical opinions of Archbishop Whately, and, echoing his injunc- tions to students, say " Don't use any system of elocution: it will give you a, false style ; but read and speak naturally, as if you understood and felt what you are reading and speaking. NATURE and HABIT will show you While in direct opposition to this high authority we have elaborated treatises on the Art, from popular Teachers, which insist upon a perfect system of ARTIFICIAL training, by which the pupil is reduced to a mere mechanical automaton, acted upon only by arbi- trary and complicated Rules, and graduating every emotional ex- pression of the voice by a scale of MUSICAL NOTATION. Now, these ultra views of the Art I conceive to be equally remote from a true ption of the requirements necessary to form a natural, grace- ful, and impressive mode of delivery either in Reading or Speaking. In my long experience as a Professor of this Art, I have never found that NATURE, uneducated, untrained NATURE, ever made a naturally correct reader, or an impressive and eloquent speaker. At the same time I am free to confess that experience has confirmed me in the opinion that elaborated ARTIFICIAL rules are almost "worse than useless," for they fetter all the natural impulses of the Pupil,' and too frequently substitute mannerisms and affectations for a direct, earnest, natural method, of delivery. .And yet ELOCUTION has its rules, as essential and as necessary to be understood and 16 IXTKODUCTIOX. studied as are the rules which govern a thorough knowledge of the exact sciences. To simplify these rules, and to present only those which are abso- lutely requisite to form a strictly natural and finished reader and speaker, has been the aim and labor of my professional life. In the compendium I now proceed to offer are embodied the results of my practical experiences of the requirements of the Art presented in the most direct and brief form I could adopt. As this work is more especially designed for the use of " Ladies' Eeading Classes," a few suggestions of a general character may not inappropriately precede the Rules I have given for study and prac- tice. I assume that the only true basis of Instruction for this Art is, to lead the Pupil into that perception of the meaning and construction of language, that, in its delivery, a full appreciation of its sense shall be felt, and that, in this vocal expression, more especially in READING, the nearer we approach to the tones of the votee we em- ploy in speaking, the more agreeable will be our efforts to those who listen, and the nearer we shall approach to a purely natural style of Elocution an accomplishment than which, none can be more desirable for a young Lady to take home for the adornment and en- joyment of the social circle. This intellectual talking style in reading can be acquired by very youthful pupils, and it is with such I would imperatively recommend its practice. It is while the young organs are flexible, and the habits are fresh and untrammelled by conventionalisms, and before mannerisms are contracted and confirmed, that this all-important Elocutionary instruction can be most effectively carried out ; and the habit thus obtained will never be eradicated. I would also recommend this method as the only one to be used for adult practice. The perceptions are constantly quickened into action, and an acute, vivid appreciation of the beauties of language is acquired, that necessarily leads to the adoption of tones perfectly in accordance with the sense, and an appreciative and refined taste is cultivated, which will prefer taking NATURE as its Elocutionary model, rather than the AETIFIOIAL and ABBITBABY rules of systems. The human voice, however, requires to be trained ; the vocal or- gans can be improved and developed ; and aids are afforded in the essential rules of Elocution. Practice on the elementary sounds of letters, upon Elocutionary principles, will produce a rich, pure, and finished ARTICULATION. 1NT1IODUOTION. 17 A knowledge of the positive rules which govern INFLECTIONS, and practice on the same to enable the Pupil to inflect with ease ; the general knowledge of Rules governing EMPHATIC STRESS, and a practice on MODULATION in its varieties of level, emotional, and imi- tative tones, are all the necessary mechanical auxiliaries which Elocution as an Art affords to the Student. These essential rules I now present, condensed into the briefest and most practical form, the due practice of which in classes, ac- companied by the application of the principles to the daily READING from Examples I have furnished in this work, will, I trust, materially in the formation of an eminently natural and correct style of Reading. THE ESSENTIAL RULES OF ELOCUTION.* ELOCUTION has been divided into ABTICULATION and PEONUNCIATION, embracing distinctness, force, and freedom from Provincialisms. INFLECTION, having a regard to the slides, shifts, and pauses of the voice. MODULATION is the proper management of the tones of the voice, so as to produce grateful melody to the ear, in accordance with the sense. EMPHASIS marks the comparative importance of words in a sentence. AETICULATION. Correct articulation is the most important exercise of the voice and of the organs of speech. It consists in giving every letter in a syllable its due proportion of sound, according to the most approved standard of pronunciation, and in making a distinct syllabication of words. In just articulation the words are not to be hurried over, nor precipitated syllable over syllable, nor melted together into a mass of confusion ; they should be delivered full, pure, and, as it were, chiselled from the lips and thus only can words make their due impression upon hearers. For the benefit of youthful and untrained Pupils, I annex the fol- lowing Examples for Practice on Elementary Sounds of Letters and Syllables, on which depend the clear and distinct AETIOULATION of words. ELEMENTAEY VOWEL SOUNDS. A has eight sounds : / 1. as in game, debate. 2. " any, many, miscellany, herbage. 3. " care, dare, fare. 4. " liar, regular, inward. 5. " father, calm. * I claim no originality in the creation of any new system of Elocutionary Instruc- tion. I have only compiled and adapted Eules from acknowledged Musters of Uio Art, rejecting those which my experience has satisfied me are but extraneous and non- essential. ELEMENTARY VOWEL SOUNDS. 19 C. as in that, glass. 7. " all, law, salt. 8. " what, want, was. E has five sounds. 1. as in me, theme. 2. " pretty, been, England, faces, linen. 3. " bet, end, sell. 4. i% where, there, ere, e'er, ne'er. 5. " herd, merchant. I has four sounds. 1. as in chide, decide. -. u machine, caprice. ". " chin, wit, hill. 4. " bird, flirt, virtue. O has six sounds. 1. as in tone, droll. 2. " love, money, othei. '' do, more. 4. ' woman, wolf. 5. " cost, former, nor. 6. " not, robber. U has five sounds. 1. as in mule, pure. 2. " full, push. " dull, tub. 4. " busy, minute. 5. " bury. Y, when a vowel, has four sounds. 1. as in my, tyrant. 2. " fancy, envy. 3. " lyric, system. 4. " myrtle. W, as a vowel, has no independent sound ; in conjunction with another vowel it forms a diphthong as in blow, cow, howl, scowl. N. B. The Teacher will explain to the Pupil the variations in the sounds of the vowel whether alphabetical, short, or varying in the sound of the letter. When vowels appear in combination they are called diphthongs and triphthongs. A diphthong is the union of two vowels in one articulation, as on in sour. 20 ELEMENTARY CONSONANT SOUNDS. A triphthong is a union of three vowels in one articulation, as eau in beau. Diphthongs and Triphthongs are divided into proper and im- proper. Proper diphthongs and triphthongs blend their vowels, and form one sound ; as ou in sour, and eau in beau. Improper have only one of their vowels vocal, as ea in beat, eau in beauty. N. B. As the insertion of Tables for the varied diphthongal and triphthongal sounds would occupy more space than I can allot for them in this work, I beg to suggest that attention be paid to them in Orthography Lessons, and in Reading of words containing their varieties. ELEMENTARY CONSONANT SOUNDS. B as it sounds in rebel, robber, cub, babe, ball, bead, mob. It is silent after in, except in accumb, succumb, rhomb, and also before t in the same syllable as in lamb, bomb, thumb, debtor. F as heard in fancy, muffin. H as in hat, horse, hedge, hail. When silent, as in heir, herb, honest, hour, rhomb, rhetoric, ah, oh, humble, hostler, exhale, exhort, exhaust, exhilarate. J as in jelly, James, and its y sound in hallelujah, joy, jar, jilt. K as in keep, skirt, smirky, ink, or mute before n, as in knife, knew. L as in sorrel, billow, love, lull, lie, lad, all, weal. "When silent, as in could, calf, talk, balm, salve. M as in man, maim, mime, may, more, am, him, hum, deem, murmur. P as in pay, lip, puppy. "When silent, as in pneumatics, tempt, psalm, corps, raspberry, receipt. R as in rage, brimstone, hurra, rap, tar, hare, ire, ore, lure, bur, rare, rear, roared, rarely, drier, error, honor, terror, brier, prior, truer. V as in valve, vaunt, cave, leave, velvet, survive, vain, levity, relieve. W as in want, reward, woe, way, was, ware, wed, wine. When silent, as in answer, sword, wrap, wreck, wrong. Y as in ye, yes, young, yawn, yearly. Sh as in short, relish. Th as in thine, they, than, then, thee, bathe, beneath, them, clothe, think, with. ELEMENTARY CONSONANT BOUNDS. 21 "When silent, in asthma, isthmus, phthisic, Thomas, Thames, thyme. AV as in woe, way, was, ware, wed, wine. AVh as in which, what, whale, when. AVhen silent, in whole, who, whoop. D as in did, dawn, den, laid, mad, bed, dead, meddle, ruddy. AVhen taking a t sound in faced, stuffed, cracked, tripped, vexed, vouched, flashed, piqued. When silent, as in handsome, stadtholder, and Wednesday. G hard, as in gag, gave, gall, gull, bag, hag, log, rug, game, gone, glory, grandeur. Soft, as in gem, giant, ginger, Egypt, gyration, badge, edge. When silent, as in phlegm, gnash, malign, intaglio, seraglio. N as in nun, nine, nay, now, an, den, din, manner, number, bank, distinct, bronchial, banquet, anxiously. When silent, as in kiln, hymn. S as in sap, passing, use, Sabbath, set, smile, strifes, sugar, sure, Imps, dissolve, possess, disarm, discern, disdain, disease, dis- honor. j;uise, otherwise, sorry, curiosity, monstrosity, as, is, was, his, has, these, those, others, ribs, rugs, praises, riches, dies, tries, flies, reserve, reside, result, expulsion, transient, mansion, version, censure, pressure, ambrosial, vision, passion, usual, pleasure, erasure. When silent, as in aisle, corps, demesne, isle, island, puisne, int. T as in ten, met, written, patient, notation, fustian, question. AVhen silent, as in hasten, bustle, 6clat, hautboy, mortgage, chestnut. X as in exit, exercise, excellence, luxury, expense, excuse, extent, Xenophon, Xerxes, Xanthus, doxology, proximity, vexation, relaxa- tion, exhale, exhibit, exhort, exhaust. Z as in zone, maze, haze, azure, zest, zinc, glazier. Ch as in chin, chub, church, machine, chagrin, chaise, scheme, chorus, distich. AVhen silent, as in schism, yacht, drachm. N"g as in sing, song, sang, mingling, arrange, derange. O as in cart, cat, colt, cut, cur, college, cottage, cedar, cider, cymbal, mercy, ocean, social, special, species, spacious, discern, sacrifice, suffice. When silent, as in czar, czarina, indict, muscle, victuals. Gh as in laugh, cough, trough. Ph as in philosopher, caliph. Q as in banquet, conquer, coquet. 22 ELEMENTAltY CONSONANT SOUNDS. N". B. By continuous practice on the foregoing elementary sounds of letters, with reference to their importance in Elocutionary ex- pression that is, the development of the pure weal tone in their pronunciation Pupils would be insensibly led into a correct knowl- edge, and a finished execution of what have been designated Tonic and Subtonic Sounds, without being distracted by the elaborated rules and tables of examples, deemed essential by those who are advocates for complicated artificial rules. To further aid Pupils of matured capabilities, I annex a T#ble of Tonics, Subtonics, and Atonies, as arranged by Dr. Rush, and which are generally adopted by Professors of Elocution. But all the essential principles of Articulated Sounds may be evolved in the examples I have before given. The exercise on the following Tables may be found advantageous in developing and strengthening the vocal organs, if the practice is made to involve the prolonged sounds of the vowels and vocal consonants with a full expulsion of the chest tones, and with varied modulations of the voice. T( >NICS. Tonics are elementary sounds, which have a distinct and perfect tone proper to themselves, and capable of being held or prolonged by the voice indefinitely. They are A, E, I, O, U, as heard in ALL, ON, ARM, AT, ALE, THERE, END, EVE, ILL, OLD, Do, BULL, UEN, Us. The DIPHTHONGAL TONICS are AIL, ISLE, OUE, OIL, UNION. . SUBTONICS. Subtonics have tone or vocality, but are inferior to tonics iii ful- ness of power of sustainment. They are B as in bad. Y as in yet. D " dash. W " wild. G " gum. R " Rome. Y " vat. L " lull. Z " zeal. M " mum. J " judge, N " nun. Zsh " azure. Ng " England. Th " then. ELEMENTAKY CONSOXAXT SOUNDS, 23 ATOMCS. Atonies. Sounds without tones a mere impulsion of the breath without vocality. They are P as in pay. Jl as in hit. T " task. Wh ' when. lv - kill. R " ride. F - light. L " lily. M same. M " mind. C'h ki church. N " now. Sh " shame. Th " thing. Th " thin. The following Examples may be used as a further practice on prolonged rowel and vocal consonant sounds, fusing the sound of one word into the next following, to acquire the power of sustaining the in the u-e of suspensive tones: A in age, air, aim, fate. K in eel, eve, ear, fear. I in isle, ire, mind, bind. O in old, oar, do, our. U in use, nature, future, mature. B as in orb. N as in own. D " aid. R " war. L " all. V '? save. M " arm. Z " amaze. Practice on unaccented vowels, or attention to their correct ar- ticulation in Reading or Reciting, should be observed by careful Teachers and Pupils; as, for example, on the words be-lieve, be- fore, be-hind, be-gin, be-stride, be-stir, be-long, pre-fer, pre-fix, pre- clude, pro-mote, pro-claim, pro-trude, etc. As pronunciation belongs more exclusively to dictionaries, it is unnecessary to attempt giving any rules in this book. In the varie- ties of pronunciation on particular words which have crept into use, I do not pivsume to offer an opinion further than to state my own practice, wlneh is, where a choice has been left to the student by standard orthoi'-j)i>ts. I decide upon using the most euphonious of the \ari 24: INFLECTION. INFLECTION. INFLECTION is the bending or sliding of the voice either upward or downward. There are two inflections ; the one called the Up- ward, or rising Inflection; the other the Downward, or Falling Inflection. As connected with pauses, there is one inflection which denotes that the sense or meaning is suspended, and another which denotes that the sense is completed. " To be carnally minded' is deathV In elementary Elocutionary training it is essential that the ear should be practised on the different sounds of Inflections, and the voice should be trained to inflect with ease and facility : the follow- ing compilation of Tables will be found essential for these purposes. Let the following list of numbers be pronounced slowly, distinctly, and loud ; marking each inflection with precision. The acute accent (') denotes the rising Inflection. The grave accent ( v ) denotes the falling Inflection. TABLE OF INFLECTIONS. One', two', three', four', five', six', seven', eight', nine', ten', eleven", twelve\ N. B. Note that the number preceding the last is marked with a double rising inflection, to indicate that it precedes the final close of the list. The application of this Rule to sentences, and groups in sentences, will be noticed under the proper heads. One. / \ One, two. / // \ One, two, three. i l II \ One, two, three, four. / / i ii \ One, two, three, four, five. / / / / // \ One, two, three, four, five, six. INFLECTION. 25 / / / / / // \ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. / / ////// \ One f two, three, four, five, six, seven, .eight. / / i I l i i ii \ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. i / I I i i ii \ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. / / l I l l i I I II \ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven. / / / / / / / ill ll \ One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. EXAMPLES OF THE KISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS CONTRASTED. The Riainrj, followed ly the Falling Inflection. Does he talk rationally', or irrationally v ? Does he pronounce correctly', or incorrectly"? Does he mean honestly', or dishonestly"? Does she dance gracefully', or ungracefully"? Do they act cautiously', or incautiously"? The Falling, followed by the Rising. lie talked rationally^, not irrationally'. Ik- pronounces correctly \ not incorrectly'. He means honestly^, not dishonestly'. She dances gracefully \ not ungracefully'. They acted cautiously", not incautiously'. To enable the Pupil to slide without angularity or abruptness, a practice on the following exercise, from numbers one to ten, may be u.-'ed : or EXERCISES ON THE INFLECTIONS. Blessed' are the poor in spirit". Blessed' are the meek\ Blessed' are the peace-makers\ Let your light so shine before men', that they may see yoar good works', and glorify your Father" which is in heaven". 2 26 INFLECTION. And now abideth faith', hope", charity r ; these three: but the greatest of these' is charity \ "When all thy mercies', O my God', My rising soul surveys' Transported with the view', I'm lost In wonder', love", and praise\ Correct articulation', is the most important exercise of the voice', and of the organs of speech\ The sorrow for the dead', is the only sorrow' from which we re- fuse to be divorced^. Age', that lessens the enjoyment of life', increases our desire of living\ Christianity' bears all the marks of a divine original. It came down from heaven', and its purpose is to carry us up thither\ Year' steals upon us' after year\ Life' is never still for a mo- ment', but continually', though insensibly', sliding into a new form\ Infancy' rises up fast to childhood^ childhood' to youth* youth passes quickly into manhood', and the gray hair' and the fading look', are not long in admonishing us", that old age is near at hand\ / \ True gentleness teaches us to bear one another's burdens; to / / / \ rejoice with those who rejoice ; to weep with those who weep ; to please every one his neighbor for his good ; to be kind and tender- \ . / \ // hearted ; to be pitiful and courteous ; to support the weak, and to be patient toward all men. "When the Pupil has learned to inflect with ease, the following specific rules should be committed to memory, and the Examples affixed to the rules may be practised, until the application of the rules is thoroughly understood : GENEEAL ESSENTIAL EULES ON INFLECTION. Interrogation. When a question commences with a verb, it terminates with the rising inflection. When a question commences with an interrogative adverb or pronoun, it terminates with a falling inflection. INFLECTION. 27 EXAMPLES. Interrogations Governed by a Verb. I Did he say he would come ? Will he come? / Is he here ? Shall dust and ashes stand in the presence of that uncreated glory', before which principalities and powers bow down, tremble and adore'? Shall guilty and condemned creatures appear in the presence of Him, m whose sight the heavens are not clean, and who chargeth his angels with lolly'? Interrogations Governed ly Relative Pronouns. Who will come? Which of them will come ? What will he do? \ When will he come? Where will he go? How can he exalt his thoughts to any thing great' und noble', who only believes that after a short turn on the stage of this world', he IB to sink into oblivion", and to Idse his consciousness forever v ? If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave', By nature's la\v design'd', Why was an independent wish' E'er planted in my iniiuT? If not, why am I subject to His cruelty \ or scorn N ? Or, why hath man the will', and power" ! To make his fellows mourn V Who can look down upon the grave', even of an enemy', and not compunctious throb', that he should ever have warred with the poor handful of earth", that lies mouldering before him^? 28 INFLECTION. "Who can hold a fire in his hand', By thinking on the frosty Caucasus^ ? Or, wallow naked in December's snow', By mere remembrance of the summer's heat v ? EXCEPTIONS. Emphasis breaks through this rule. Note. See rule under the division of Emphasis. When a series of questions is long and terminates a paragraph, the last number may take the falling inflection, as Was the hope drunk Wherein you dress'd yourself' ? Hath it slept since'? And wakes it now, to look so green and pale, At what it did so freely'? From this time, Such I account thy love. Art thou afear'd To be the same in thine own act' and valor', As thou art in desire" ? Would'st thou have that' Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life', And live a coward in thine own esteem", Letting I dare not' wait upon I would 1 ', Like the poor cat i' the adage v ? When two or more questions in succession, the first beginning with a verb, are separated by the disjunctive particle or, the last question requires the falling, and the preceding ones the rising in- flection : Can honoris voice provoke the silent dust ? Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death ? Do the perfections of the Almighty lie dormant, or are they not rather in continual exercise? EXCLAMATIONS of joy. and surprise take the rising ;.f 'ear, anger, scorn, grief, and awe, the falling inflection. NEGATION is governed by the rising inflection, except when emphatic. AFFIRMATION invariably by the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. Affirmation. That is my book. INFLECTION. 29 Negation. It is not my book. I said good, not bad. NEGATIVE SENTENCES. Negative sentences, and negative members of sentences, when they do not conclude a paragraph, require the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. You are not left alone' to climb the arduous ascent God is with you ; who never suffers the spirit which rests on him to fail, nor the man who seeks his favor to seek it in vaiu\ I tax not you, ye elements, with unkindness v ; I never gave you kingdoms^ ; call'd you children' ; You owe me no subscription^ ; why, then, let fall Your horrible pleasure^ : here I stand your slave A poor\ infirm^, weak r \ and despised old man\ Virtue is of intrinsic value x and good desert" ; hot the creature of will', but necessary and immutable" ; not local", or temporary', but of equal extent' and antiquity with the divine mind"; not a mode of sensation", but everlasting truth" ; not dependent on power', but the guide of all power". "When a series of negative sentences concludes a paragraph, the last member of the series takes the falling inflection. EXAMPLE. In death', the poor man' lays down', at last', the burden of his wearisome life". No more shall he hear the insolent calls of the master', from whom he received his scanty wages\ No more shall he be raised from needful slumber on his bed of straw' nor be hur- ried away from his homely meal", to undergo the repeated labors of the day". A concession or admission takes the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. Painting', poetry', eloquence', and every other art, on which the genius of mankind has exercised itself, may be abused', and prove dangerous in the hands of bad men" ; but it were ridiculous to con- tend', that, on this account', they ought to be abolished". One' may bo a speaker', both of much reputation', and much in- 30 INFLECTION. fluence', in the calm', argumentative manner" ; to attain the pathetic' and the sublime of oratory', requires those strong sensibilities of mind', and that high power of expression', which are given to few\ A parenthesis should be read more quickly and in a lower tone of voice, than those parts of the sentence which precede and follow it. EXAMPLES. Know ye not brethren' for I speak to them that know the law' that the law' hath dominion over a man' as long as he liveth" ? If envious people were to ask themselves', whether they would exchange -their situations with the persons envied' (I mean their minds', passions', notions', as well as their persons', fortunes', and dignities',) I believe the self-love common to human nature', would, generally, make them prefer their own condition\ If there's a God above us' And that there is', all nature cries aloud', Through all her works" He must delight in virtue v ; And that which He' delights' in, must be happy\ But to my mind though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honored in the breach than in the observance. SERIES. A series is a number of particulars, immediately following one another, whether independent (1), or having one common refer- ence (2). EXAMPLES. (1) The wind and rain are over v ; Calm is the noon x of day : The clouds are divided^ in heaven ; Over the green hills flies the incon- stant sun' : Bed through the stony vale comes down the stream of the hill\ (2) The characteristics of chivalry were valor', humanity', cour- tesy', justice', and honor\ "When the. members of a series consist of several words, as in the former example, the series is called compound; when of single words, as in the latter, it is called simple. When a series begins a sentence, but does not end it, it is called a commencing series ; when it ends it, whether it begins it or not, it is called a concluding series. COMMENCING SERIES. Each particular of a commencing series takes the rising inflection INFLECTION. 81 with this special observance, that the last particular must have a greater degree of inflection, thereby intimating that the enumeration is finished. EXAMPLES. Beauty', strength', youth', and old age", lie undistinguished, in the same promiscuous heap of matter\ Hatred', malice', and anger", are passions unbecoming a disciple of Christ\ Regulation', proportion', order', and color", contribute to grandeur 1 as to beauty \ CONCLUDING SERIES. Each particular of a concluding series, except the last, takes the rising inflection. The particular preceding the last requires a greater degree of the rising inflection than the others, thereby intimating, that the next particular will close the enumeration. The last is pronounced with the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. They, through faith, subdued kingdoms', wrought righteousness' ; obtained promises', stopped the mouths of lions', quenched the vio- lence of fire', escaped the edge of the sword', out of weakness were made strong', waxed valiant in fight", and turned to flight the armies of the aliens'. Where'er he tarns', he meets a stranger's eye : His suppliants scorn him', and his followers fly r ; Now, drops at once the pride of awful state', The golden canopy', the glittering plate', The regal palace', the luxurious board', The liv'ried army", and the menial lord. Note. I have given a somewhat elaborated exposition of the Rules which govern ARTICULATION and INFLECTION. As these two impor- tant branches of Elocutionary Study are definite and positive on the divisions of EMPHASIS and MODULATION so much must be left to that higher, or more philosophical department of the art, which is drawn from a careful analysis of the meaning of language and the adapting of modulated sounds to the sense, that I shall confine myself to a few essential general rules, rather than follow out any system of elaborated Artificial Instruction. 32 EMPHASIS. EMPHASIS. EMPHASIS is that stronger, fuller sound of the voice by which, in reading or speaking, we distinguish the accented syllable of words on which we design to throw particular stress, in order to show how they affect the rest of the sentence. On the right management of Emphasis depend the whole life and spirit of delivery : false emphasis perverts the meaning of language, feeble emphasis is in-- effective, and emphasis overdone is repulsive to good taste. There are two kinds of emphasis : 1. Emphasis of sense governed by inflection proper to the sen- tence. 2. Emphasis offeree always made with the falling inflection. EXAMPLES IX EMPHASIS. Of Sense. Did you walk home to-day ? / Did you walk home to-day ? Did you walk home to-day? Did you walk home to-day ? Did you walk home to-day ? Of Force. you be so cruel? Could \ Could you be so cruel ? I Did not say so. EXAMPLE OF ACCUMULATED EMPHASIS. I tell you I will not do it ; nothing on earth shall persuade me. EMPHASIS. 33 Exclamations and interjections require impassioned, impressive emphasis. Every new incident in a narrative, each particular object in de- scription, and each new subject in passages, should he marked with distinctive emphatic stress. Corresponding and antithetical words should be emphatic: when contrasted or compared, the objects of greater importance should be given with stronger emphatic stress with t\iQ falling inflection the less important ones with the rising inflection. When greater force is desired in the delivery of a particular phrase, every word and even parts of compound words, are given with emphatic expression. A climax gradually ascends in expression to its close. EXAMPLE. It is pleasant to be virtuous and good, because that is to excel many others'; it is pleasant to grow better, because that is to excel ourselves'; it is pleasant to mortify and subdue our lusts, because that is victory'; it is pleasant to command our appetites' and pas- sions', and to keep them in due order', within the bounds of reason and religion", because that is empire\ See, what a grace was seated on this brow ! Hyperion's curls'; the front of Jove himself; An eye like Mars', to threaten and command'; A station like the herald Mercury", New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill\ A combination' and a form' indeed, Where every god' did seem to set his seal", To give the world assurance of a man\ An anti-climax should be read with decreasing energy, as you proceed ; until the last member, being strongly emphatic, takes a fall instead of a rise. EXAMPLE. What must the king do now v ? must he submit'? The king shall do it v : must he be depos'd'? The king shall be contented^: must he lose The name of king'? let it goM Til give my jewels for a set of beads^; My gorgeous palace' for a hermitage^; 2* 84: EMPHASIS. My gay apparel', for an almsman's gown x ; My figur'd goblets', for a dish of wood v ; My sceptre', for a painter's walking staff v ; My subjects', for a pair of carved saints\- And my large kingdom', for a little graved A little', little grave x an obscure grave\ Repetition requires high rising inflection, acquiring fresh intensity from the iteration, as :' Tell them I grieve not for my death Grieve ! Ours hath been a race of steel ; Steadfast and stern yea, fixed in faith, Though doom'd Power's scourge to feel. What motive, then, could have such influence in their bosom v ? "What motive'? That' which Nature, the common parent', plants in the bosom of man\ and which, though it may be less active in the Indian' than in the Englishman', is still congenial with' and makes part of his being\ Banish'd from Rome ? What's lanisli'd" but set free From daily contact of the things I loathe ? Circumflex, or wave, is a species of emphasis which combines the rising and falling inflection on the same word. It is used in the tones of mockery and irony, and to mark a peculiar or double meaning. EXAMPLES. Yes; they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion', avarice", and pride\ Queen. Hamlet, you have your father much offended. / \ Hamlet. Mother, you have my father much offended. / // Most courteous tyrants! Romans,! rare patterns of humanity ! / \ If you said so, then I said so. Monotone. When words are not varied by inflection, they are said to be pronounced in a Monotone. This is used when any thing awful or sublime is to be expressed. 35 EXAMPLE. O when he comes', Rons' d by the cry of wickedness extreme', To heaven ascending from some guilty land', Now, ripe for vengeance* 1 ; when he comes, arrayed In all the terrors of Almighty wrath', Fortli from his bosom plucks his lingering arm', And on the miscreants pours destruction down", Who can abide his coming^? Who can bear His whole displeasure^? JTigh on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus, and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous east, with richest hand, Showers on her kings barbaric, pearls and gold, Satan exalted sat ! 36 MODULATION. MODULATION. MODULATION is the giving to each tone of the voice its appro- priate character and expression so as to produce a grateful melody to the ear. According to the subject the time of modulation should be regu- lated. Narration proceeds equally; the pathetic slowly; instruc- tion, authoritatively ; determination, with vigor ; and passion with rapidity. The voice is defined as capable of assuming three keys, the low, the high and middle, or conversational key, and to acquire the power of ranging in these with varieties of degrees of loudness, softness, stress, continuity and rapidity I recommend the practice upon the elementary sounds of LETTEES and SYLLABLES, and the examples afforded under the head of INFLECTION. Instructions in these partic- u/ars can only be efficiently carried out, under a capable teacher. The following characteristics of varied modulation will be found useful to the student. EXAMPLES. ADOEATION, ADMIRATION, SOLEMNITY, SUBLIMITY, are governed by low, loud, slow tones. Mournfulness, Despondency by low, soft, tremulous tones. Fear, without guilt by low, soft, tremulous tones. Fear, with guilt very low, slow tones. Deep emotion low, quick and broken tones. Conversational voice is light, and of moderate time. Dignity loud and slow tones. Earnestness loud, middle tone. Revenge loud, aspirated. Courage high, loud and slow. In the practice of reading, these varieties of expressive modulation can be better understood, and the attention directed to a more natural management of the tones, than by taking isolated passages for practice. Exaggeration and artificial tones are too frequently acquired, where modulation is practised upon the latter method. Imitative modulation is a great power in the hands of a skilful speaker or reader. It marks the reader's appreciation of the sense and beauty of a passage. In poetic reading and recitation, this branch of elocutionary art is especially desirable to attain. MODULATION. 37 Immensity, Sublimity are expressed by a prolongation and swell of the voice. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll, Ten tLo&sand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Motion and sound, in all their modifications, are, in descriptive reading, more or less imitated. To glide, to drive, to swell, to flow, to skip, to whirl, to turn, to run, to rattle, etc., all partake of a peculiar modification of the voice, which expresses imitation. The sound must seem an echo to the sense. PAUSES. Pauses are of consequence to a correct rendering of sense. They are of two kinds, first emphatical pauses ; and next, such as mark distinctions of sense. An emphatical pause is made after something has been said of peculiar meaning, but the most frequent use of s is, to mark the divisions of sense, and to allow the speaker to draw breath. By practising the pupil on the method of suspend- ing the tone on elementary sounds of words, and then to gather the breath sufficiently to carry a long sentence to its final completion would entirely eradicate the vicious habit of dividing words having an intimate relation to each other, by which sense is destroyed, and the force of emphasis is entirely lost by divisions being made in the wrong place. CLOSING EEMAEKS. The foregoing compilation of elementary and strictly essential rules will assist in the formation of a correct, impressive and natural style of reading. Much, however, must depend upon the cultivation of an intellectual and sympathetic appreciation of the sense and beauty of language in all its varieties of sentiment, emotion and passion. It is in these all-important points of elocutionary instruc- tion, that the capable and intelligent Teacher is needed, to develop and quicken the perceptions of the pupil. With such teaching the result would be a much more natural style of reading and speaking than now obtains in schools or in society. HE UNIVERSITY r< * . THE LADIES' READER, EXAMPLES FOR PRACTICE IN READING AND RECITATION. FEMALE EDUCATIOX.-JPDGE STOEY. IF Christianity may be said to have given a permanent eleva- tion to woman, as an intellectual and moral being, it is as true, that the present age, above all others, has given play to her genius, and taught us to reverence its influence. It was the fashion of other times to treat the literary acquirements of the sex, as starched pedantry, or vain pretension; to stigmatize tin-in as inconsistent with those domestic affections and virtues, which constitute the charm of society. We had abundant homilies read upon their amiable weaknesses and sentimental delicacy, upon their timid gentleness and submissive depend- ence ; as if to taste the fruit of knowledge were a deadly sin, and ignorance were the sole guardian of innocence. Their whole lives were "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought;" and concealment of intellectual power was often resorted to, to escape the dangerous imputation of masculine strength. In the higher walks of life, the satirist was not without color for the suggestion, that it was "A youth of folly, an old ago of cards;" and that, elsewhere, "most women had no character at all," beyond that of purity and devotion to their families. Admi- rable as are these qualities, it seemed an abuse of the gifts of Providence, to deny to mothers the power of instructing their children, to wives the privilege of sharing the intellectual pur- suits of their husbands, to sisters and daughters the delight of ministering knowledge in the fireside circle, to youth and beauty the charm of refined sense, to age and infirmity the consolation of studies which elevate the soul, and gladden the listless hours of despondency. These things have in a great measure, passed away. Tho 40 THE LADIES' READER. prejudices which dishonored the sex, have yielded to the influ- ence of truth. By slow, but sure advances, education has ex- tended itself through all ranks of female society. There is no longer any dread, lest the culture of science should foster that masculine boldness, or restless independence, which alarms by its sallies or wounds by its inconsistencies. We have seen that here, as everywhere else, knowledge is favorable to human vir- tue and human happiness; that the refinement of literature adds lustre to the devotion of piety ; that true learning, like true taste, is modest and unostentatious ; that grace of manners receives a higher polish from the discipline of the schools ; that cultivated genius sheds a cheering light over domestic duties, and its very sparkles, like those of the diamond, attest at once its power and its purity. There is not a rank of female society, however high, which does not now pay homage to literature, or that would not blush, even at the suspicion of that ignorance, which, a half century ago, was neither uncommon nor discreditable. There is not a parent, whose pride may not glow at the thought, that his daughter's happiness is, in a great measure, within her own command, whether she keeps the cool, sequestered vale of life, or visits the busy walks of fashion. A new path is thus opened for female exertion, to alleviate the pressure of misfortune, without any supposed sacrifice of dignity, or modesty. Man no longer aspires to an exclusive dominion in authorship. He has rivals, or allies, in almost every department of knowledge ; and they are to be found among those, whose elegance of manners, and blamelessness of life, command his respect, as much as their talents excite hia admiration. THE WIPE. WASHINGTON IBVINQ. I HAVE often had occasion to remark the fortitude with which women sustain the most overwhelming reverses of for- tune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the ener- gies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation to their character, that at times it approaches to sublimity. Nothing can be more touching than to behold a soft and ten- THE LADIES' READER. 41 der female, who had been all weakness and dependence, and alive to every trivial roughness while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comforter and supporter of her husband under misfortune, and abiding with unshrinking firmness, the bitterest blast of adversity. As the vine which has long twined its graceful foliage about the oak, and been lifted by it in sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with its caress- ndrils ami bind up its shattered boughs; so is it beauti- fully ordered by Providence, that woman, who is the mere de- nt and ornament of man in his happier hours, should be iv and solace when smitten with sudden calamity; wind- ing her>clf int-> tin- rugged recesses of his nature, tenderly sup- porting the drooping head, and binding up the broken heart. These observations call to mind a little domestic story, of which I was once a witness. My intimate friend, Leslie, had married a beautiful and accomplished girl, who had been brought up in the mid-t of t'ashionaMe life. She had, it is true, no for- tune, but that of my friend was ample; and he delighted in the anticipation of indulging her in every elegant pursuit, and ad- ministering to those delicate tastes and fancies that spread a kind of witchery about the sex. "Her life," said he, "shall belike a fairy tale." It wa- th.- mi-fortune of my friend, however, to have em- d his propertv in large speculations; and he had not been married many months \\h"ii, by a succession of sudden disas- .', ej.t fr-'in him, and ho found himself reduced almost to penury. For a lime lie kept his situation to himself, and went about with a haggard countenance and a breaking lieart. His life was but a protracted agony; and what rendered it more insupportable, was the keeping up a smile in the pres- ence of his wit'e ; for he could not bring himself to overwhelm her with the news. She saw, however, with the quick eyes of affection, that all was not well with him. She marked his al- tered looks and stifled sighs, and was not to be deceived by his sickly and vapid attempts at cheerfulness. She tasked all her jitly powers and tender blandishments to win him back to happiness; but she only drove the arrow deeper into his soul, -aw cause to love her, the more torturing was the thought that he wa- BOOB to make her wretched. A little while, thought h", and the smile will vanish from the cheek the IKS' READER. 51 The pestilence that walks by night, Took the young bride's sight away. All at the father's stern command was changed; Their peace was gone, but not their love estranged. Wearied at home, ere long the lover fled ; Returned but three short days ago, The golden chain they round him throw, He is enticed, and onward led To marry Angela, and yet Is thinking ever of Margaret. Then suddenly a maiden cried, "Anna, Theresa, Mary, Kate ! Here comes the cripple Jane ! " And by a fountain's side A woman, bent and gray with years, Under the mulberry-trees appears, And all towards her run, as fleet As had they wings upon their feet. It is that Jane, the cripple Jane, Is a soothsayer, wary and kind. She telleth fortunes, and none complain ; She never deceives, she never errs. But for this once the village seer "\Venra a countenance severe, And from beneath her eyebrows thin and white Her two eyes flash like cannons bright Aimed at the bridegroom in waistcoat blue, AVho, like a statue, stands in view; Changing color, as well he might, "When the beldame wrinkled and gray Takes the young bride by the hand, with the tip of her reedy wand, Making the sign of the cross, doth say: ' Thoughtless Angela, beware 1 Lest, when thou weddest this false bridegroom, Thou diggest for thyself a tomb I " And she was silent; and the maidens fair from each eye escape a swollen tear ; But on a little streamlet silver-clear, What are two drops of turbid rain? . lened a moment, the bridal train Resumed the dance and song again ; The bridegroom only was pale with fear ; And down green alleys Of verdurous valleys, With merry sallies, They sang the refrain : "The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom. So fair a bride shall leave her home! Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay, So fair a bride shall pass to-day ! " 52 THE LADIES' HEADER. [Margaret, the Blind Girl, learns that Baptiste Is to be married to Angela ; grief- etricken at the intelligence, she determines to be present at the wedding.] Now rings the bell, nine times reverberating, And the white daybreak, stealing up the sky, Sees in two cottages two maidens waiting, How differently ! Queen of a day, by flatterers caressed, The one puts on her cross and crown, Decks with a huge bouquet her breast, And flaunting, fluttering up and down, Looks at herself and cannot rest. The other, blind, within her little room, Has neither crown nor flowers' perfume ; But in their stead for something gropes apart, That in a drawer's recess doth lie, And, 'neath her bodice of bright scarlet dye, Convulsive clasps it to her heart. The one, fantastic, light as air, 'Mid kisses ringing, And joyous singing, Forgets to say her morning prayer ! The other, with cold drops upon her brow, Joins her two hands, and kneels upon the floor, And whispers, as her brother opes the door, "0 God! forgive me now! " And then the orphan, young and blind, Conducted by her brother's hand, Towards the church, through paths unscanned, "With tranquil air, her way doth wind. Odors of laurel, making her faint and pale, Eound her at times exhale, And in the sky as yet no sunny ray, But brumal vapors gray. Near that castle, fair to see, Crowded with sculptures old, in every part, Marvels of nature and of art, And proud of its name of high degree, A little chapel, almost bare At the base of the rock, is builded there; All glorious that it lifts aloof, Above each jealous cottage roof, Its sacred summit, swept by autumn gales, And its blackened steeple high in air, Round which the osprey screams and sails. "Paul, lay thy noisy rattle by! " Thus Margaret said. " Where are we ? we ascend ! " THE LADIES' HEADER. " Yes; seest thou not our journey's end? Hearest not the osprey from the belfry cry? The hideous bird, that brings ill luck, we know 1 Dost thou remember when our father said, The night we watched beside his bed, 4 daughter, I am weak and low ; Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying!' And thou, and he, and I, all fell to crying? Then on the roof the osprey screamed aloud ; And here they brought our father in his shroud. There is his grave ; there stands the cross we set ; Why dost thou clasp me so, dear Margaret ? Come in 1 the bride will be here soon : Thou tremblest 1 my God ! thou art going to swoon 1 " She could no more, the blind girl, weak and weary I A voice seemed crying from that grave so dreary, "What wouldst thou do, my daughter? " and she started, And quick recoiled, aghast, faint-hearted ; But Paul, impatient, urges ever more Her steps towards the open door ; And when, beneath her feet, the unhappy maid Crushes the laurel near the house immortal, And with her head, as Paul talks on again, Touches the crown of filigrano Suspended from the low-arched portal, No more restrained, no more afraid, She walks, as for a feast arrayed, And in the ancient chapel's sombre night, They both are lost to sight. At length the bell. With booming sound, Sends forth, resounding round, Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell. It is broad day, with sunshine and with rain ; And yet the guests delay not long, For soon arrives the bridal train, And with it brings the village throng. In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay, For lo 1 Baptiste on this triumphant day, Mute as an idiot, sad as yester-morning, ^. Thinks only of the beldame's words of warning, ff And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis ; To be a bride is all I -The pretty lisper Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper, 41 How beautiful 1 how beautiful she is 1 " But she must calm that giddy head, For already the Mass is said ; At the holy table stands the priest; The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it; THE LADIES' READER. Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it. He must pronounce one word at least ! 'Tis spoken ; and sudden at the groomsman's side " 'Tis he ! " a well-known voice has cried. And while the wedding guests all hold their breath, Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see ! "Baptiste," she said, "since thou hast wished my death, As holy water be my blood for thee ! " And calmly in the air a knife suspended ! Doubtless her guardian angel near attended, For anguish did its work so well, That, ere the fatal stroke descended, Lifeless she fell! At eve, instead of bridal verse, The De Profundis filled the air; Decked with flowers a simple hearse To the church-yard forth they bear ; Village girls in robes of snow Follow, weeping as they go ; Nowhere was a smile that day, No, ah no ! for each one seemed to say : " The roads should mourn and be veiled in gloom, So fair a corpse shall leave its home ! Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away ! So fair a corpse shall pass to-day ! " AMERICAN HISTORY.-JARED SPARKS. IN many respects the history of North America differs from that of every other country, arid in this difference it possesses an interest peculiar to itself, especially for those whose lot has been cast here, and who look back with a generous pride to the deeds of ancestors, by whom a nation's existence has been created, and a nation's glory adorned. We shall speak of this history, as divided into two periods} the colonial and the revolutionary. When we talk of the history of our country, we are not to be understood as alluding to any particular book, or to the labors of any man, or number of men, in treating this subject. If we have a few compilations of merit, embracing detached portions and limited periods, there is yet wanting a work, the writer of which shall undertake the task of plodding his way through all the materials, printed and in manuscript, and digesting them into a united, continuous, lucid and philosophical whole, bear- THE LADIES' READER. 55 ing the shape, and containing the substance of genuine history. No tempting encouragement, it is true, has been held out to such an enterprise. The absorbing present, in the midst of our stirring politics and jarring party excitements, and bustling ac- tivity, has almost obliterated the past, or at least has left little leisure for pursuing the footsteps of the pilgrims, and the devi- ous fortunes of our ancestors. The public taste has run in other directions, and no man of genius and industry has been found so courageous in his resolves, or prodigal of his labor, as to his life in digging into mines for treasures which would cost him much and avail him little. But symptoms of a change are beginning to appear, which it may be hoped will ere long be realize- 1. And when the time shall come for illustrating this subject, it will be discovered that there arc rich stores of knowledge among the hi'ddcn and forgotten records of our colonial history; that the men of those days thought and acted, and suffered with a wisdom, a fortitude, and an endurance, which would add lustre : and that they have transmitted an inheritance as honorable; in the mode of its acquisition as it is dear to its present possessors. Notwithstanding the comparatively discon- nected incidents in the history of this period, and the separate communities and governments to which it extends, it has never- theless a unity and a consistency of parts, as well as copious- ness of events, which make it a theme for the most gifted his- torian, and a study for every one who would enlarge his knowl- and profit by high example. Tnlike any other people, who have attained the rank of a nation, we may In re trace our country's growth to the very ele- ments of its nriirin, and consult the testimonies of reality, in- of the blind oracles of fable, and the legends of a dubious tradition. Besides a love of adventure and an enthusiasm that surmounted every difficulty, the character of its founders was marked by a hardy enterprise and sturdiness of purpose, which carried them onward through perils and suffe rings, that would have appalled weaker minds and less resolute hearts. This is the first great feature of resemblance in all the early settlers, whet In -r they came to the north or to the south, and it merits notice from the influence it could not fail to exercise on their future acts and character, both domestic and political. The timid, the wavering, the feeble-minded, the sons of indolence and ease, were not among those who left the comforts of home, braved the tempests of the ocean, and sought danger on the 50 THE LADIES' EEADER. shores of an unknown and inhospitable world. Incited by va- rious motives they might have been ; by a fondness for adven- ture, curiosity, gain or a dread of oppression, yet none but the bold, energetic, determined, persevering, would yield to these motives or any other. Akin to these characteristics, and indeed a concomitant with them, was a spirit of freedom, and a restlessness under constraint. The New England settlers, we know, came away on this ground alone, goaded to a sense of their invaded rights by the thorns of religious intolerance. But whatever motives may have oper- ated, the prominent fact remains the same, and in this we may see throughout the colonies a uniform basis of that vigor of character and indomitable love of liberty which appeared ever afterward, in one guise or another, whenever occasions called them out. Hence it was, also, that the different colonies, although under dissimilar modes of government, some more and some less de- pendent on the crown, preserved a close resemblance in the spirit of their internal regulations, that spirit or those principles which entered deeply into the opinions of the people, and upon which their habits were formed. The instructive lesson of history, teaching by example, can nowhere be studied with more profit, or with better promise, than in the revolutionary period of America, and especially by us, who sit under the tree our fathers have planted, enjoy its shade, and are nourished by its fruits. But little is our merit or gain that we applaud their deeds, unless we emulate their virtues. Love of country was in them an absorbing principle, an undivided feeling ; not of a fragment, a section, but of the whole country. Union was the arch on which they raised the strong tower of a nation's independence. Let the arm be pal- sied that would loosen one stone in the basis of this fair struc- ture, or mar its beauty ; the tongue mute that would dishonor their names by calculating the value of that which they deemed without price. They have left us an example already inscribed in the world's memory ; an example portentous to the aims of tyranny in every land ; an example that will console in all ages the drooping as-' pirations of oppressed humanity. They have left us a written charter as a legacy, and as a guide to our course. But every day convinces us that a written charter may become powerless. Ignorance may misinterpret it; ambition may assail and faction destroy its vital parts, and aspiring knavery may at last sing its * THE LADIES' READER. 57 requiem on the tomb of departed liberty. It is the spirit which lives in this are our safety and our hope the spirit of our fathers and while this dwells deeply in our remembrance, and its flame is cherished, ever burning, ever pure, on the altar of our hearts ; while it incites us to think as they have thought, and do as they have done, the honor and praise will be ours, to have preserved unimpaired the rich inheritance, which they so nobly achieved. THE CRY OP THE CHILDREN ELIZABETH BAURETT BEOWNINO. Do ye hear the children weeping, my brothers! Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their ytfung heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing in the shadows, The young flowers are blowing from the west; But the young, young children, my brothers ! They are weeping bitterly I They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free. Do you question the young children in their sorrow, Why their tears are falling so ? The old man may weep for his to-morrow, Which is lost in long ago. The old tree is leafless in the forest, The old year is ending in the frost ; The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest, The old hope is hardest to be lost ! But the young, young children, my brothers, Do you ask them why they stand Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers, In our happy fatherland? They look up with their pale and sunken faces, And their looks are sad to see ; For the man's grief untimely draws and presses Down the cheeks of infancy. "Your old earth," they say, "is very dreary ; " "Our young feet," they say, "are vory weak I Few paces have we taken, yet are weary Our grave-rest is very far to seek 1 Ask the old why they weep, and not the children, For the outside earth is cold. And we young ones stand without, in our bewild'ring, And the graves are for the old." 3* 58 THE LADIES' READER. " True," say the young children, "it may happen That we die before our time ! Little Alice died last year, the grave is shapen Like a snow-ball in the rime. We looked into the pit prepared to take her, Was no room for any work in the close day ! From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her, Crying " Get up, little Alice, it is day ! " If you listen by that grave in sun and shower, "With your ear down, little Alice never cries ; Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her, For the new smile which has grown within her eyes. For merry go her moments, luli'd and still'd in The shroud, by the kirk chime ! It is good when it happens," say the children, " That we die before our time ! " Alas, the young children ! they are seeking Death in life, as best to have! They are binding up their hearts away from breaking, With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city, Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do ! Pluck your handfuls of the meadow cowslips pretty, Laugh aloud to feel your fingers let them through ! But the children say, " Are cowslips of the meadows Like the weeds anear the mine ? Leave us quiet in the dark of our coal shadows. From your pleasures fair and fine. "For oh I" say the children, "we are weary, And we cannot run or leap ; If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall on our face trying to go ; And underneath our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flowers would look as pale as snow ; For all day, we duag our burden tiring, Through the coal-dark underground, Or, all day we drive the wheels of iron In the factories round and round. "All day long the wheels are droning, turning, Their wind comes in our faces ! Till our hearts turn, and our heads with pulses burning, And the walls turn in their places ! Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling, Turns the long light that droopeth down the wall, Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling, Are all turning all the day, and we with all! All day long, the iron wheels are droning, And sometimes we could pray, ' ye wheels, (breaking off in a mad moaning,) Stop ! be silent for to-day ! ' " THE LADIES' READER. 59 Ay, be silent ! let them hear each other breathing, For a moment, mouth to mouth ; Let them touch each other's hands in a fresh wreathing, Of their tender human youth ; Let them feel that this cold metallic motion Is not all the life God giveth them to feel ; Let them prove their inward souls against the notion That they live in you, or under you. wheels ! Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward, As if fate in each were stark I And the cliildrens' souls, which God is calling sunward, Spin on blindly in the dark. Xow tell the weary children, my brothers ! That they look to Him and pray, For the bless'd One who blesseth all the others, To bless them another day. They answer "Who is God that He should hear us," While this rushing of the iron wheels is stirred? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us Pass unhearing at least, answer not a word ; And we hear not, (for the wheels in their resounding) Strangers speaking at the door. Is it likely God with angels singing round Him, Hears our weeping any more ? i Two words, indeed, of praying we remember; And at midnight's hour of harm, " Our Father I " looking upward in our chamber, We say softly for a charm. We say no other words except "Our Father!" And we think that, in some pause of angels' song, He may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather, An4 "old both in His right hand, which is strong. Our Father ! If Ho heard us, He world surely For they call Him good :mil mild Answer, smiling down the steep would very purely, "Come and rest with me, my child." "But no," say the children, weeping faster, "He is silent as a stone; And they tell us, of His image is the master Who commands us to work on." "Go to!" say the children; "up in Heaven, Dark, wheel-like turning clouds are all we find! Do not mock us! we are atheists in our grieving, We look to Him but tears have made us blind I" Do you hear children weeping and disproving, my brothers, what ye t< For God's possible is taught by His world's loving, And the children doubt of each I And well may the children weep before ye, They are weary ere they run ! 60 THE LADIES' READER. They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory Which is brighter than the sun! They know the grief of men, but not the wisdom, They sink in their despair, with hope at calm, Are slaves without liberty in Christdom, Are martyrs by the pang without the palm ! Are worn as if with age, yet unretrievingly No joy of memory keep, Are, orphans of the earthly love and heavenly, Let them weep, let them weep 1 They look up, with their pale and sunken faces, And their look is dread to see ; For you think you see their angels in their places, With eyes meant for Deity. "How long," they say, "how long, cruel nation! Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart? Trample down with mailed heel its palpitation, And tread onward to your throne amid the mart? Our blood splashes upward, our tyrants! And your purple shows your path," But the child's sob curseth deeper in the silence Than the strong man in his wrath! THE BELLS. -EDGAK A. POE. Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night ! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinabulation that so musically wells From the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. II. Hear the mellow wedding bells, Golden bells ! What a world of happiness their harmony foretells I Through the balmy air of night How they ring out their delight ! THE LADIES' READER. 81 From the molten-golden notes, And all in tune, "\Vliat a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats On the moon ! Oh, from out the sounding cells, "What a gush of euphony voluminously wells 1 How it swells ! How it dwells On the Future I how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells I in. Hear the loud alarum bells Bra/en bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright ! Too much horrified to speak, They can only shriek, shriek, Out of tune, In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire, In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire Leaping higher, higher, higher, "With a desperate desire, And a resolute endeavor Now now to sit or never, By the side of the pale-faced moon. Oh, the bells, bells, bells, What a tale their terror tells, Of Despair ! I low they clang, and clash and roar I What a horror they outpour On the bosom of the palpitating air I Yet the ear it fully knows, By the twanging, And the clanging, How the danger ebbs and flows; Yet the ear distinctly tells, In the jangling, And the wrangling, How the danger sinks and swells, By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells Of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, Bells, bells, bells In the clamor and the clangor of the bells I 62 THE LADIES' READER. IV. Hear the tolling of the bells- Iron bells! "What a world of solemn thought their monody compels I In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone ! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone They are neither man nor woman They are neither brute nor human They are Ghouls : And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls, A paean from the bells And his merry bosom swells With the paean of the bells I And he dances and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme. To the paean of the bells Of the bells: Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the throbbing of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells To the sobbing of the bells ; Keeping time, time, time, As he knells, knells, knells, In a happy Runic rhyme, To the rolling of the bells Of the bells, bells, bells To the tolling of the bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells- Bells, bells,- bells To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. THE LADIES' READER. TITANIA, EOTTOM AND FAIRIES SHAKSPEARB Enter TITAXIA and her train. Tit. Come, now a roundel, and a fairy song ; Then, for the third part of a minute, hence; Some, to kill cankers in the musk-rose buds ; Some , war with rear mice for their leathern wing?, To make my small elves 1 coats ; and some keep back The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits : Sing me now asleep ; Then to your offices, and let me rest. SONG. 1st Fai. You spotted snakes with double tongue, Thorny hedge-hogs, be not seen. Newts and blind worms, do no wrong ; Come not near our fairy queen. Chorus. Philomel with melody Sing in our sweet lullaby, Lulla, lulla, lullaby: lulla, lulla, lullaby; Never harm, nor spell, nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh ; So, good night, with lullaby. 2d Fai. Weaving spiders, come not here ; Hence you long-legged spinners, hence : Beetles black, approach not near ; Worm nor snail, do no offence. Chorus. Philomel with melody, &c. 1st Fai. Hence, away; now all is well; One, aloof, stand sentinel. [Exeunt FAIRIES. TITANIA sleeps. Enter OBEROX. Ober. What thou seest when thou dost awake [Squeezes the flower on Titan-id's eyelids Do it for thy true love take ; Love and languish for his sake : Be it ounce, or cat, or bear, Pard or boar with bristled hair, In thy eye that shall appear When thou wak'st, it is thy dear ; AVakc, when some evil thing is near. [Exit. Enter BOTTOM, tiny ing ; PI.TK having clapt on him an ass's head. SONG. Sol. The ousel-cock, so black of hue, With orange-tawny bill, The throstle with his note so true, The wren with little quill Tit. Wiat anyel wakes me from my flowery bed? [ Wakes. 64 THE LADIES 1 READER. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again ; Mine ear is much enamored of thy note ; So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape ; And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me, On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that, and yet ^) say the truth, reason and love keep little company together now-a-days. The more the pity that some honest neighbors will not make them friends. .N"ay, I can gleek upon occasion. Tit. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. Bot. Not so neither ; but if I had wit enough to get out of this wood, 1 have enough to serve mine own turn. Tit. Out of this wood do not desire to go : Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no. I am a spirit of no common rate ; The summer still doth tend upon my state, And I do love thee ; therefore go with me ; I'll give thee faries to attend on thee ; And they shall fetch thee jewels from the deep, And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep : And I will purge thy mortal grossness so, That thou shalt like an airy spirit go, Peas-blossom! Cobweb 1 Moth! and Mustard-seed! Enter four Fairies. 1st Fai. Ready. 2d Fai. And I. 3d Fai. And I. 4th Fai. Where shall we go? Tit. Be kind and courteous to this gentkman; Sop in his walks and gambol in his eyes- Feed him with apricots and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs and mulberries : The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night tapers crop their waxen thigJis, And light them at the fiery glow-worm 's eyes, To have my love to bed, and to arise : And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes ; Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 1st Fai. Hail, mortal ! 2d Fai. Hail ! 3d Fai. Hail! 4thFai. Hail! Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. I beseech your wor- ship's name. Cob. Cobweb. Bot. I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good Master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you. Your name, honest gen- tleman ? Peas. Peas-blossom. Bot. I pray you commend me to Mistress Squash, your mother, and to TL1K LADIES' READER, 65 Master Peascod, your father. Good Master Peas-blossom, I shall desire you of more acquaintance, too. Your name, I beseech you, sir ? . Mustard-seed. Bot Good Master Mustard-seed, I know your patience well. That same cowardly, giant-like ox-beef hath devoured many gentlemen of your house. I promise you your kindred hath made my eyes water ere now. 1 desire you more acquaintance, good Master Mustard-seed. OBEROS enters unseen. Tit. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed, While I thy amiable cheeks do coy And stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, And kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy. Sot. Where's Peas-blossom? Peas. Ready. Bot. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom. Where's Monsieur Cobweb ? Cob. Ready. Bot. Monsieur Cobweb, good Monsieur, get up your weapons in your hands, and kill me a red-hipped humble bee on the top of a thistle; and, good Monsieur, bring me the honey-bag. Do not fret yourself too much with, Uie action, monsieur ; and, good monsieur, have a care the honey-bag break not ; I would be loth to have you overflown with a honey-bag, signior. Whore's Monsieur Mustard-seed? Must. Ready. Bot. Give me your neif, Monsieur Mustard-seed. Pray you, leave your courtesy, good monsieur. Must. What's your will ? Bot. Nothing, good monsieur, but to help Cavaliero Cobweb to scratch. Tit. What, wilt thou hear some music, my sweet love? Bot. I have a reasouable ear in music: let us have the tongs and the bones. Tit. Or say, sweet love, what thou desirest to eat. Bot. Truly a peck of provender. I could munch your good dry oats. Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good ha}*, sweet hay, hath no fellow. Tit. I have a venturous fairy, that shall seek the squirrel's hoard, and fetch thee new nuts. Bot. I had rather have a handful or two of dried peas : but, I pray you, let none of your people stir me ; I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. Til Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in my arms. Fairies, begone, and be always away. So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle Gently entwist; the female ivy so Knrings the barky fingers of the elm, 0, how I love thee ! How I dote on thee ! [They sleep. OBERON advances. Enter PUCK. Ober. Welcome, good Robin. See'st thou this sweet sight? Her dotage now I do b<>u r in to pity: For meeting her of late behind the wood, Seeking sweet savors for this hateful fool, 5 66 Till-] LADIES 1 TRADER. I did upbraid her, and foil out with hoi : For she his hairy temples then had rounded "With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; And that same dew, which sometimes on the buds "Was wont to swell, like round and orient pearls, Stood now within the pretty flowret's eyes, Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. When I had, at my pleasure, taunted her, And she, in mild tones, begged my patience, I then did ask of her my changeling child; "Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent To bear him to my bower in fairy land. And now I have the boy, I will undo TJds hateful imperfection of her eyes. And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp From off the head of this Athenian swain ; That she awaking when the other do, May all to Athens back again repair, And think no more of this night's accidents, But as the fierce vexation of a dream. But first, I will release the fairy queen. Be as thou wert wont to be ; [Touching her eyes with an herl.~\ See as thou wert wont to see ; Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower Hath such force and blessed power. Now, my Titania ; wake you, my sweet queen. Tit. My Oberon ! what visions Rave I seen ! Methought I was enamored of an ass. Ober. There lies your love. Tit. How came these things to pass? 0, how mine eyes do loath his visage now ! Ober. Silence awhile. Robin, take oft' this head. Titania, music call ; and strike more dead Than common sleep, of all these five the sense. Tit. Music! ho! music! such as charmeth sleep. Puck. Now, when thou wakest, with thine own fool's eyes peep. Ober. Sound music ! [still music.'] Come, my queen, take hand with me, And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be. Now thou and I are new in amity, And will to-morrow midnight, solemnly Dance in Duke Theseus' house triumphantly, And bless it to all fair posterity ; There shall the pair of faithful lovers be Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark ; I do hear the morning lark. Ober. Then, my queen, in silence sad, Trip we after the night's shade. We the globe can compass soon, Swifter than the wandering moon. TTTK LA DIMS 1 JIKADKR. Tit. Come, my lord, and in our flight Tell me how it came this night, That I sleeping here was found "With these mortals on the ground. [Exeunt. [Horns sound within. T.KMITS AMi iWAHOWS OF SCOTTISH IJFK Till: AINSL1E FA3IILY.- PBOFESSOR WII.SOJT. <;ILI!KUT AINSI.II: was u poor ni.in, and he had been a poor 111:111 all the ilays of his life, which were not few, for his thin hair was now waxing irray. II.- had been born and bred on the small moorland farm which he now occupied ; and he hoped to die there, as his father and grandfather liad done before him, leaving a family just above the more hitter wants of this world. p, hard and unremitting, had been his lot in life; but al- though sometimes severely "tried, he had never repined; and through all the mist and gloom, and even the storms that had availed him, he had lived on from year to year in that calm and n'Mgned contentment, which unconsciously cheers the hearth-stone of the blameless poor. With his own hands he had ploughed, sowed, and reaped his often scanty harrest, assisted, as they grew up by three sons, who even in boyhood were happy to work along with their father in the fields. Out of doors or in, Gilbert Ainslie was never idle. Tin- >pade, tin- shears, the plough-shaft, the sickle, and the Hail, all c.-im-- readily to hands that grasped them well; and not a morsel of food was eaten under his roof, or a garment worn there that wa< not honestly, severely, nobly earned. Gil- bert Ain-1 -lave, but it was for them he loved with a sober and deep atle.'tioii. The thraldom under which he lived he thought herself herding her sheep in the green, silent pastures, and sitting wrapped in her plaid upon the sunny side of the mountain. She was too much exhausted there was too little life, too little breath in her heart, to frame a tune ; but some of her words seemed to be from favorite old songs ; and at 70 THE LADIES' HEADER, last her mother wept, and turned aside her face, when the child, whose blue eyes were shut, and her lips almost still, breathed out these lines of the beautiful twenty-third psalm. "The Lord's my Shepherd, I'll not want; He makes me down to lie In pastures green : he leadeth me The quiet waters by. 1 ' The child was now left with none but her mother by the bed- side, for it was said to be best so ; and Gilbert and his family sat down round the kitchen fire for awhile in silence. In about a quarter of an hour they began to rise calmly, and to go each to his allotted work. One of the daughters went forth with the pail to milk the cow, and another began to set out the table in the middle of the floor for supper, covering it with a white cloth. Gilbert viewed the usual household arrangements with a solemn and untroubled eye; and there was almost the faint light of a grateful smile on his cheek, as he said to the worthy surgeon, " You will partake of our fare after your day's travel and toil of humanity." In a short, silent half hour the potatoes and oat-cakes, butter and milk were on the board ; and Gilbert, lifting up his toil- hardened but manly hand, with a slow motion at which the room was as hushed as if it had been empty, closed his eyes in reverence, and asked a blessing. There was a little stool on which no one sat by the old man's side. It had been put there unwittingly, when the other seats were all placed in their usual order ; but the golden head that was wont to rise at that part of the table was now wanting. There was silence not a word was said their meal was before them God had been thanked, and they began to eat. While they were at their silent meal, a horseman came gal- loping to the door, and with a loud voice called out, that he had been sent express with a letter to Gilbert Ainslie, at the same time rudely, and with an oath demanding a dram for his trou- ble. The eldest son, a lad of eighteen, fiercely seized the bridle of his horse and turned his head away from the door. The rider, somewhat alarmed at the flushed face of the powerful stripling, threw down the 'letter and rode off. Gilbert took the letter from his son's hand, casting at the same time a half upbraiding look on his face, that was returning to its former color. " I feared," said the youth, with a tear in his eye, " I feared that the brute's voice and the trampling of THE I ADI MS' READER. 7l the horse's feet would have disturbed her." Gilbert held the letter hesitatingly in his hand, as if afraid, at that moment to read it; at length he said aloud to the surgeon, "You know that I am a poor man, ami debt, if justly incurred, and punctu- ally paid when due, is no dishonor." Both his hand and his voice shook slightly as he spoke; but he opened the letter from the lawyer, and read it in silence. this in. uncut his wife came from her child's bed-side, and looking an\iou>l\- at her husband, told him "not to mind about the money, that no man who knew him would arrest his goods or put him into prison. Though, dear me, it is cruel to be put thus, when ,,ur child is dying, and when, if s'o it be the Lord's will, she should have a decent burial, poor innocent, like tin-in that went brt'.nv her." ( iilKert continued reading the let- ter, with a l'a-c on which no emotion could be discovered ; and then folding it up, he gave ii to his wife, told her she might it if >he cho>c, and then put it into his desk in the room poor dear child. She took it from him without read- ing it, and cru-hed it into her bosom; for she turned her ear 1o\\urd her child, and thinking she heard it stir, ran out hastily hed-idc. Another hour of trial pa^t, and the child was still swimming for its lite. The very do^s knew there was grief in the house, and lay without stirring, as if hiding themselves, below the long table at tin- win. low. One sister sat with an unfinished gown on her knees, that she had been sewing for the dear child, and still continued at the hopeless worlc^she scarcely knew why, and often, often, putting up her hand to wipe away a tear. "What is that . .'" said the ,,\,\ mail to his eldest daughter. "What is that you arc laying .n the shelff She could scarcely reply that it wa> ;i ribbon and an ivory comb that she had bought for little Margaiv;, against the night of the dancing-school ball. And at theM- words the lather could not restrain a long, deep and bitter -jToan ; at which the boy nearest in age to his dying looked up, weeping, i u his face, and letting the tattered book of old ballads wliich he had been poring over, but not read- ing, fall out of his hands, he rose from his seat, and, going into his father's bosom, ki-^cd j,i m , and asked God to bless him, for the holy In-art of the boy was moved within him; and the old man,a< he embraced him, felt that in his innocence and simpli- city he was indeed a comfort. T. "The Lord giveth and the aketh away,' 1 said the old man; "blessed be the name of the Lord." 12 THE LADIES' READER. The outer door gently opened, and lie whose presence had in former years brought peace and resignation hither, when their hearts had been tried, even as they now were tried stood before them. On the night before the Sabbath, the minister of the parish never left his Manse, except as now, to visit the sick or dying bed. Scarcely could Gilbert reply to his first question about his child, when the surgeon came from the bed-room and said, " Margaret seems lifted up by God's hand above death and the grave : I think she will recover. She has fallen asleep, and when she wakes, I hope I believe that the danger will be past, and that your child will live." They were all prepared for death ; but now they were found unprepared for life. One wept that had till then locked up all her tears within her heart ; another gave a short palpitating shriek ; and the tender-hearted Isabel, who had nursed the child when it was a baby, fainted away. The youngest brother gave way to gladsome smiles, and calling out his dog Hector, who used to sport with him and his little sister on the moor, he told the tidings to the dumb, irrational creature, whose eyes it is certain sparkled with a sort of joy. The letter received by the rude horseman proved to be from an executor to the will of a distant relative, who had left Gil- bert Ainslie fifteen hundred pounds. "This sum," said Gil- bert, " is a large one to folks like us, and will do more, far more than put me fairly above the world at last. I believe that with it, I may buy this very farm on which my forefathers have toiled. May God, whose providence has sent this temporal blessing, send us also wisdom and prudence how to use it, and humble and grateful hearts to him for his goodness." There was silence, gladness and sorrow and but little sleep in Moss-side, between the rising and setting of the stars that were now out in thousands clear, bright and sparkling over the un- clouded sky. Those who had lain down for an hour or two in bed, could scarcely be said to have slept ; and when, about morning little Margaret awoke, an altered creature, pale, lan- guid, and -unable to turn herself on her lowly bed, but with meaning in her eyes, memory in her mind, affection in her heart, and coolness in all her veins, a happy group were watch- ing the first faint smile that broke over her features ; and never did one who stood there forget that Sabbath morning on which she seemed to look round upon them all with a gaze of fair and sweet bewilderment, like one half conscious of having been res- cued from the power of the grave. THE LADIES' READER. 73 JEPllTHAirs DAUGHTER.-**. P. WILLIS. She stood before her father's gorgeous tent, To listen for his coming. Her loose hair "Was resting on her shoulders, like a cloud Floating around a statue, and the wind, aying her light robe, revealed a shape Praxiteles might worship. She had clasp'd Her hands upon her bosom, and had raised Her beautiful, dark. Jewish eyes to heaven, Till the long lashes lay upon her brow. Her lip was slightly parted, like the cleft Of a pomegranate blossom ; and her neck, Just when' the cheek was melting to its curve "With the unearthly beauty sometimes there, "Was shad'-d. as if light had fallen oil', Its snr! 'polished. She was stilling Her light, quick breath, to hear; and the white rose Scarce moved upon her bosom, as it swell'd, Like nothing but a lovely wave of light, To meet tin- arching of her queenly neck. Her countenance was radiant with love. look'd like one to die for it a being "Who-c whole existence was the pouring out Of rich and deep atleetions. I have thought A brother's and a sister's love were much; I know a brother's is for I have been tor's idol and I know how full The heart may be of tenderness to her 1 But the affection of a delicate child For a fond father, gushing, as it does, With the sweet springs of life, and pouring on, Through all earth's chan-_ r cs. like a river's course, Chastened with reverence, and made more pure By the world's discipline of light and shade 'Tis deeper holier. The wind bore on The leaden tramp of thousands. Clarion notes Hang sharply on the ear at intervals ; And the low, mingled diu of mighty hosts Returning from the battle, pour'd from far, Like the deep murmur of a restless sea. They came, as earthly conquerors always come, "With blood and splendor, revelry and wo. The stately horse treads proudly he hath trod The brow of death, as well. The chariot wheels Of warriors roll magnificently on Their weight hath crushed the fallen. Man is there Majestic, lordly man with his sublime And elevated brow, and godlike frame ; OF THE UNiVERS! 1 74 THE LADIES 1 READER. Lifting his crest in triumph for his heel Hath trod the dying like a wine-press down The mighty Jephthah led his warriors on Through Mizpeh's streets. His helm was proudly set, And his stern lip curl'd slightly, as if praise Were for the hero's scorn. His step was firm, But free as India's leopard, and his mail Whose shekels none in Israel might bear, Was like a cedar's tassel on his frame. Hig crest was Judah's kingliest ; and the look Of his dark, lofty eye and bended brow, Might quell the lion. He led on ; but thoughts Seemed gathering round which troubled him. The veins Grew visible upon his swarthy brow, And his proud lip was press'd as if with pain. He trod less firmly ; and his restless eye Glanced forward frequently, as if some ill He dared not meet, were there. His home was near ; And men were thronging with that strange delight They have in human passions, to observe The struggle of his feelings with his pride. He gazed intensely forward. The tall firs Before his tent were motionless. The leaves Of the sweet aloe, and the clustering vines Which half concealed his threshold, met his eye, Unchanged and beautiful ; and one by one, The balsam, with its sweet-distilling stems, And the Circassian rose, and all the crowd Of silent and familiar things stole up, Like the recover'd passages of dreams. He strode on rapidly. A moment more, And he had reach'd his home ; when, lo.! there sprang One with a bounding footstep and a brow Of light to meet him. Oh how beautiful ! Her dark eye flashing like a sun-lit gem And her luxuriant hair! 'twas like the sweep Of a swift wing in visions. He stood still, As if the sight had withered him. She threw Her arms about his neck he heeded not. She call'd him "Father" but he answered not. She stood and gazed upon him. Was he wroth ? There was no anger in that blood-shot eye. Had sickness seized him ? She unclasp'd his helm, And laid her white hand gently on his brow, And the large veins felt stiff and hard, like cords'. The touch aroused him. He raised up his hands', And spoke the name of God in agomV She knew that he was stricken, then ; and rush'd Again into his arms ; and, with a flood Of tears she could not bridle, sobb'd a prayer That he would breathe his agony in words. He told her and a momentary flush TilK LA PI US 1 HEADER. Shot o'er her countenance ; and then the soul Of Jephthah's daughter waken'd ; and she stood Calmly and nobly up. ami said 'twas well And she would die. ***** The sun had well nigh set. The fire was on the altar ; and the priest Of the High God was there. A pallid man .inir out his trembling hands to Heaven, As if he would have prayed, but had no words And she who was to die, the calmest one In Nraol at that hour, stood up alone, And waited for th- sun to set. Her face AV.-i-; pule, but very beautiful her lip Had a more delicate outline, and the tint "Uiitenauce was like The majesty of angels. The sun set A ud she was dead but not by violence. 75 THE NH-HTI.MJAI.i: AM) THE MUSICIAN.-JonN FORD. ng from Italy to Greece, the tales "Which poets of an elder time have feign'd To glorify their Tempe, bred in me Desire of visiting that paradise. To Thessaly I came, and living private, "Without acquaintance of more sweet companions Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts, I day by day fp-krn; others follow. Herman and Jessie linger last. After a period of mute and moving reflection, they turn away and slowly approach the mansion that in simple, rural stateliness, stands upon a noble promontory, belted with woods, and half- girdled by the sparkling waters of the Potomac which flow in a semicircle around a portion of the mount. The water and woodland view from the portico is highly im- posing. But it was not the mere recognition of the pictu- and beautiful in nature that moved Herman and Jessie. Thev would have felt that they were on holy ground, had the landscape been devoid of natural charm. Here the feet of the first of heroes had trod here in boyhood he had sported with his beloved In-other Lawrence in those forests, those deep- wooded irlens, he had limited, when a stripling, by the side of old Lord Fairfax here he took his first lessons in the art of war to this home In- brought his bride by this old-fashioned, hos- pitablo-lo.iking fireside, he sat with that dear and faithful wife; heneath yonder alley of lofty trees he has often wandered by In-r sidi here he indulged the agricultural tastes in which he delighted here resigned his Cincinnatus vocation and bade to hi- eherished home at the summons of his country. his \\ite received the letter which told her that he had !.. n ;ip})ointed eomniander-in-chief of the army here, when tin- 'J"ii"iis >t niggle closed at the trumpet notes of victory when t!i<- Uritish had retired when, with tears coursing down his benignant, manly countenance, he had uttered a touching ell bestowed a paternal benediction on the American army, and resigned all public service here he returned, think- 78 THE LADIES' READER. ing to resume the rural pursuits that charmed him, and to end his days in peace ! Here are the trees the shrubbery ho planted with his own hands and noted in his diary; here are the columns of the portico round which he twined the coral honeysuckle ; the ivy he transplanted still clings to yonder gar- den wall ; these vistas he opened through yon pine groves to command far-off views ! Here the valiant Lafayette sojourned with him ; there hangs the key of the Bastilc which he pre- sented. Here flocked the illustrious men of all climes, and were received with warm, unpretending, almost rustic hospital- ity. Here the French Houdon modelled his statue, and the English Pine painted his portrait, and caused that jocose re- mark, " I am so hackneyed to the touches of the painters' pen- cil, that I am altogether at their beck, and sit like 'Patience on a monument !' " Then came another summons from the land he had saved, and he was chosen by unanimous voice its chief ruler. Thousands of men, women and children sent up acclamations, and called down blessings on his head, as he made his triumphal progress from Mount Vernon to New York, to take the presiden- tial oath. The roar of cannon rent the air. The streets through which he passed were illuminated and decked with flags and wreaths. Bonfires blazed on the hills. From ships and boats floated festive decorations. At Gray's Ferry, he passed under triumphal arches. On the bridge across the Assumpink, (the very bridge over which he had retreated in such blank despair before the army of Cornwallis on the eve of the battle of Prince- ton,) thirteen pillars, twined with laurel and evergreens, were reared by woman's hands. The foremost of the arches those columns supported, bore the inscription, " The Defender of the Mothers will be the Protector of the Daughters." Mothers, with their white-robed daughters, were assembled beneath the vernal arcade. Thirteen maidens scattered flowers beneath his feet as they sang an ode of gratulation. The people's hero ever after spoke of this tribute as the one that touched him most deeply. When his first presidential term expired, and his heart yearned for the peace of his domestic hearth, the entreaties of Jefferson, Randolph, and Hamilton, forced him to forget that home for the one he held in the hearts of patriots, and to allow his name to be used a second time. A second time he was unanimously elected to preside over his country's welfare. But, the period happily expired, he thankfully laid aside the- mantle THE LADIES' READER. 79 of state, the scepter of power, and, five days after the inaugura- tion of Adams, returned la-re to his Mount Vernon home. ^And here the good servant, whom his Lord, when he came, found :ing raid ivady, calmly yielded up his breath, exclaiming, "It is well I" and his ^irit. was waited to heaven by the bless- lanchised countrymen. h wore the events upon which Herman and Jessie con- 1 during the hours that glided away at Mount Vernon. Herman could not but wonder, ami not wholly without in- dignation, that while the earthly dwellings of so many men, red illustrious by their genius or their great deeds, were held saeivd in tin- old world, this home of America's peerless patriot, the most hallo wed ground of the new land, had not been Hiatched t'rom the rhanees of profanation and ruin, and set apart -hrine to which young and old might make pilgrimages, and be inspired with holy and patriotic emotions as they visited the scenes consecrated by the memory the virtues of the de- parted hero. "The day for that token of a nation's reverence must will come'' answered Jes-io confidently. "The land is young it >t had time, in its bustling struggle for existence, to claim If the tomb upon which the spirit of liberty sits enthroned. 1-iut Mount Yernon will not be desecrated. If governments are forgetful, there are too many grateful hearts in the breasts of American trnunn for Mount Yernon, the home of their father, to become a ruin. What did you tell me of the raising of the Hunker Hill Monument? When men shrank at the prospect of failure, did not woman press forward and finish what their brt I r .' And may not the efforts of the faithful and devoted women of the laud preserve, enshrine Mount Vernon. iJitli ;-:;!-;" .-aid Herman, "do you suppose they could accomplish such an Herculean task?" "Yea/ 1 n-plied .Jci<- \uth fervor, "that, or any good and holy work to which they devote their best energies. Let but a master-spirit (heaven-appointed) lead them and mark out the way one noble, self->acriiicing and wholly unselfish, patriotic woman, and thousands of hands and hearts will labor with her they will .share her laurels, but the work will truly be hers, and it will surely be accomplished." At this moment the sounding of a bell gave warning that the boat was about to return, and they reluctantly retraced their steps to the wharf. 80 Til!'] LADIES' P^ TINA AND THE Yet she, most faithful lady, all this while, Forsaken, woful, solitary maid, Far from all people's press, as in exile,. In wilderness and wasteful deserts stray'd, To seek her knight, who subtily betray'd Through that late vision which the enchanter wrought Had her abandon'd. She, of naught afraid, Through woods and wasteness wide him daily sought, Yet wished tidings none of him unto her brought. One day nigh weary of the irksome way, From her unhasty beast she did alight, And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay In secret shadow far from all men's sight : From her fair head her fillet she undight And laid her stole aside : her angel's face As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place ? Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace. It fortuned, out of the thickest wood A ramping lion rushed suddenty, Hunting full greedy after savage blood : Soon as the royal virgin he did spy, With gaping mouth at her ran greedily, To have at once devour'd her tender corse ; But to the prey when as he drew more nigh, His bloody rage assuaged with remorse, And with the sight amaz'd, forgot his furious force. Instead thereof he kissed her weary feet, And lick'd her lily hand with fawning tongue; As he her wronged innocence did weet. how can beauty master the most strong, And simple truth subdue avenging wrong! "Whose yielded pride and proud submission, Still dreading death when she had marked long Her heart 'gan melt in great compassion: And drizzling tears did shed for pure affection. " TJie lion, lord of every beast in field," Quoth she, " his princely puissance doth abate, And mighty proud to humble weak does yield, Forgetful of the hungry rage, which late Him pricked with pity of my sad estate But he my lion and my noble lord, How does he find in cruel heart to hate Her that him lov'd, and ever most ador'd As the god of my life? Why hath he me abhorr'd?" :M-:ADKR. 81 TI1H DIYKK.-SCIULI.KE. "Oh, whore is the knight or the squire so 'bold, io dive to the howling cbarybdis below ? I cast into the whirlpool a goblet of gold, And o'er it already the dark waters flow; Whoever to me may the goblet bring, Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king." He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep, Thar, rugired and hoary, hung over the verge Of th< i Cureless world of the deep, I'd into the maelstrom that maddened the surire. Mio diver so stout to go I ask ye again to the deep I And the knights, and the squires that gather'd around, Stood silent and ilx'd on the ocean their ryes; look'd on the dismal and savage profound. And the peril chill'd laek every thought of the prize. And thrice spoke the monarch "The cup to win. BT a wight who will venture in ?" And all as before heard in silence the king Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle, 'Mid tlie tremulous sijuires stept out from the ring, Unbuckling hi- I dolling his mantle; And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder". On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder. As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave One glance on the gulf of that merciless main; i'-vours the wave, Casts roaringly up the charybdis again ; ! of the far thunder-boom, fuamingly forth from the heart of the gloom. And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars, eummix'd and contending; And tib i:s wrath to the welkin up-soars, And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending. And it never will rest, nor from travail be free, -ea that is laboring the birth of a sea. And at last there lay open the desolate realm ! Tin-. that whiten'd the waste of the swell, Dark- nod a cleft in the midst of the whelm, The ]r heart of that fathomless hell. Round and round whirl'd the waves deep and deeper still driven, gorge thro' the mountainous main thunder-riven. 6 82 THE LADIES' HEADER. The youth gave his trust to his Maker ! Before That path through the riven abyss closed again Hark ! a .shriek from the crowd rang aloft from the shore, And, behold ! he is whiii'd in the grasp of the main ! And o'er him the breakers mysteriously roll'd, And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold. O'er the surface grim silence lay dark and profound, But the deep from below murmur'd hollow and fell ; And the crowd, as it shudder'd, lamented aloud " Gallant youth noble heart fare-thee-well, fare- thee- well !" And still ever deepening that wail as of woe, More hollow the gulf sent its howl from below. If thou should'st in those waters thy diadem fling, And cry, "Who may find it shall win it, and wear;" God's wot, though the prize were the crown of a king A crown at such hazard were valued too dear. For never did lips of the living reveal, What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal. many a ship, to that breast grappled fast, Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave ; Again, crash'd together, the keel and the mast, To be seen, toss'd aloft in the glee of the wave. Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer, Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer. And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars, As when fire is with water commix'd and contending ; An'd the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars, And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending. And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom, Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom. And, lo ! from the heart of that far-floating gloo'm, What gleams on the darkness so swanlike and white ? Lo ! an arm and a neck, glancing up from the tomb ! They battle the Man's with the Element's might. It is he it is he ! in his left hand behold, As a sign as a joy ! shines the goblet of gold ! And he breathed deep, and he breathed long, And he greeted the heavenly delight of the day. They gaze on each other they shout as they throng "He lives lo the ocean has rendered its prey ! And out of the grave where the Hell began, His valor has rescued the living man !" And he comes with the crowd in their clamor and glee, And the goblet his daring has won from the water, He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee ; And the king from her maidens has beckoned his daughter TIIK lADIKS' READER. And he bade her the wine to his cup-bearer bring, And thus spake the Diver "Long life to the king! "Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice, The air and the sky that to mortals are given ! May the horror below never more find a voice Nor Man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven ! Never more never more may he lift from the mirror, The Veil which is woven with NIGHT and with TERROR I " Quick-brightening like lightning it tore me along, Down, down, till the gush of a torrent at play, In the rocks of its wilderness caught me and strong As the wings of an eagle, it whirled me away. Vain, vain were my struggles the circle had won me, Round and round in its dance the wild element spun me. "And I call'd on my God, and my God heard my prayer, In the strength of my need, in the gasp of my breath And show'd me a crag that rose up from the lair, And I clung to it, trembling and baffled the death 1 And, safe in the perils around me, behold On the spikes of the coral the goblet of gold. " Below, at the foot of that precipice drear, Spread the gloomy, and purple, and pathless obscure ! A Silence of Horror that slept on the ear, That the eye more appall'd might the Horror endure ! Salamander snake dragon vast reptiles that dwell In the deep coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell. " Dark-crawl'd glided dark the unspeakable swarms, Like masses unshapen, made life hideously Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms Here the Hammer-fish darken'd the dark of the sea And with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion, Went the terrible Shark the Hyena of Ocean. "There I hung, and the awe gather'd icily o'er me, So far I'mm tin- <-;irth where man's help there was none I The One Human Tiling, with the Goblins before me Alone in a loneness so ghastly ALONE ! Fathom-deep from man's eye in the speechless profound, With the death of the Main and the Monsters around. : ought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now A hundred-limb'd creature caught sight of its prey, And darted God ! from the far-flaming bough Of the coral, I swept on the horrible way ; And it seized me, the wave with its wrath and^its roar, It seized me to save King, the danger is o'er I" On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvel'd quoth he "Bold Diver, the goblet I promised is thine, 83 84 THE LADIES' READER. And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee, Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine ; If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again, To say what lies hid in the innermost main ! " Then outspake the daughter in tender emotion, "Ah ! father, my father, what more can there rest ? Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean He has served thee as none would, thyself hast confest. If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire, Be your knights not, at least, put to shame by the squire ! " The king seized the goblet he swung it on high, And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide ; But bring back that goblet again to my eye, And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side, And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree, The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee." In his heart, as he listen'd, there leapt the wild joy And the hope and the love through his eyes spoke in fire, On that bloom, on that blush, gazed, delighted, the boy; The maiden she faints at the feet of her sire ! Here the guerdon divine, there the danger beneath ; He resolves ! To the strife with the life and the death ! They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell ; Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along ! Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell They come, the wild waters in tumult and throng. Rearing up to the cliff 1 roaring back as before, But no wave ever brought the lost youth to the shore. CHRISTMAS CAROL-BOB CRATCHIT'S DINNER. -DICKENS. BUT soon the steeples called good people all, to church and chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets in their best clothes, and with their gayest faces. And at the same time there emerged from scores of bye-streets, lanes, and nameless turnings, innumerable people, carrying their dinners to the bakers' shops. The sight of these poor revellers appeared to interest the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge be- side him in a baker's doorway, and taking off the covers as their bearers passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice when there were angry words between some dinner- TILK LADIES' READK R. 85 carriers who had jostled with each other, he shed a few drops <>t' water on them from it, and their good humor was restored directly. For they said, it was a shame to quarrel upon Christ- inas 1 )ay. And so it was! God love it, so it was ! N there a peculiar flavor in what you sprinkle from your torch .'" asked Scrooge. "There is. My own." " Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day?" asked Scrooge. To any kindly ^iven. To a poor one most." " Why i" a poor one most?" asked Scrooge. " Because it needs it most." M Scrooge, after a moment's thought, "I wonder you, of all the beings in the many worlds about us, should de- sin- to cramp th"sc peopl, 's opportunities of innocent enjoy- ment r - 1 I" cried the Spirit. " You would deprive them of their means of dining every th day, often the only day on which they can be said to iid Scrooge. " Wouldn't you ?" " ! I" cried the Spirit. "on seek to close these places on the Seventh Day?" said Scrooge. " And it comes to the same thing." "I seek!' exclaimed the Spirit. Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or, at lea*-!, in that of your family," said Scrooge. "There arc some upon this earth of yours," returned the Spirit, "who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, luitivd, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name; who and all our kith and kin, as if they had r lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on them- selves, not us." Scrooge promised that lie would; and they went on, invisible, as they had Keen before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a remarkable Duality <>f the (J host (which Scrooge had observed at the baker's), that, notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could accommodate himself to anyplace with ease; and that he stood beneath a low roof ,|iiiie as gracefully and like a supernatural crcatun-, possible he could have done, in any lofty hall. And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in show- ing oft' this power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, hearty nature, and his M-mpathy with all poor men, that led 86 THE LADIES' READER, him straight to Scrooge's clerk's ; for there he went, and took Scrooge with him, holding to his robe ; and on the threshold of the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratch- it's dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think of that ! Bob had but fifteen shillings a week himself; and yet the Ghost of Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house ! Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribands, which are cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence ; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribands ; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, re- joiced to find himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the fashionable parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their own ; and basking in the luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onions, these young Cratchits danced about the table, and exalted Mas- ter Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he (not proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew the fire, until the slow po- tatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid, to be let out and peeled. " What has ever got your precious father, then ?" said Mrs. Cratchit. " And your brother, Tiny Tim ; and Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day, by half an hour !" " Here's Martha, mother !" said a girl, appearing as she spoke. " Here's Martha, mother !" cried the two young Cratchits. " Hurrah ! There's such a goose, Martha !" "Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are !" said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet for her, with officious zeal. " We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the girl, " and had to clear away this morning, mother !" " Well ! Never mind, so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. " Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye !" " No, no ! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were every where at once. " Hide, Martha, hide !" So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with at least three feet of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging THE LADIKS' 11KADER. 87 down before him ; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed to look seasonable; and Tiny Titn upon his shoulder. Alas lor Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs supported by an iron t'nime ! " Why, whore's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round. "Not coming I" said Mrs. Cratchit. Not coming!" said l>ol>, with a sudden declension in his high spirits ; for he had boon Tim's blood horse all the way from cliiirel), and had eoim- home rampant. "Not coining upon Christina^ Day '." Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in a joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into hU arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him oft' into the wash-house, that he mi^-lit hear the pudding sinking in the copper! "And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had rallied JJob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to hi- heart's content. "Aa - 1 aa -'"Id," said Bob, **and better. Somehow he thoughtful sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that lie hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Cliri>tmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men i;<> was tiviiiulous \vhen he told them this, and trem- \\ln-n he >aid that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty. UN active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by liis brother and >i>ter to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob, turning up his ciifl's, as if, poor fellow, they were capable of be- iii'j; made more shabby compounded some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round, and put it on the hob to >immer; Master Peter and the two ubiqui- teliits \\eiit to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high procession. Such a hustle, ensued that you might have thought a goose the r :11 birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black MOM was a matter of course: and, in truth, it was some- thing very like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master 88 THE LADIES' READER. Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor ; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple-sauce ; Martha dusted the hot plates ; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner, at the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammea spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose be- fore their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast ; but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and evfen Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his knife, and feebly cried hurrah ! There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by the apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family ; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone on the dish), they hadn't ate it all at last ! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone too nervous to bear witnesses to take the pud- ding up, and bring it in. Suppose it should not be done enough ! Suppose it should break in turning out ! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the back-yard, and stolen it, while they were merry Avith the goose; a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors were supposed. Hallo ! A great deal of steam ! The pudding was out of the copper. A smell like a washing-day ! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating-house and a pastry cook's next door to oach other, with a laundress's next door to that ? That was the pudding. In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered : flushed, bat fouling proudly: with the pudding like a speckled cannon- hall, so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartcrn of ig- nited brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top. Oh, a wonderful pudding ! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that now the THE LADIES' RKADEU. 89 f her mind, she would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something 3 about it, but nobody said or thought it AMIS at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would have been flat heresy t do Mt Any Crate-hit would have blushed to hint at such a tlii: At la>t tin- dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth swept and the fire made up. The compound in the jug beii:'_ 'id con-idored perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a shovel-full of chestnuts on the fire. Thru all the Cratchit familv drew round the hearth, in what Bob Cratcliit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass ; two tumblers, and a custard-cup without a handle. These held the hot stuff from the jim 1 , however, as well as golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Hob proposed: " \ < hrUtmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!" \\ hi'-h all the familv re-eehued. "God ble-s us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all. lie >at very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Hob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wi>he! to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might .'n from him. 'Spirit," said Scrooge, with an interest that he never felt 11 me if Tiny Tim will live." " 1 lit seat, ' replied the <;host, "in the poor chim- ney c- la crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If tlie.-c shadow.-, remain unaltered by the future, the child will die." "No, n<', --rooge. "Oh no, kind Spirit! say he will red." It'the-e >hado\vs remain unaltered by the future, none other of my race," returned the (lln-st, "will find him here. What, lik" to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.' 1 Srp.oge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and wa> ovi ith penitence and grief. ".Man," said the < Jlmst, "if man you be in heart, not ada- mant, forbear that wieked cant until you have discovered what irpiofl IS, and when- it is. \Vill you 'mu's \\d-hees, huskings, and suchlike impor- . i flairs ; and " girl" hunting the most important and ardu- ous, and profitless of all. Yet it niu-t be owned that Mr. Larkins is a tolerable carpen- :id that he buys as many comforts for his family as most of his neighbors, the main difficulty seems to be that "help" :i purchasable. The very small portion of our dam- '.ho \\ill consent to enter anybody's doors for pay, makes base after them quite interesting from its uncertainty; and the damsels themselves, subject to a well known foible of their- <-ry coy from being over-courted. Such racing ami chasing, and begging and praying, to get a girl for a month ! They are often got for life with half the trouble. But urn. Jlavinir an esteem for Mrs. Larkins, and a sincere experi- OC THE LADIES' REAPER. mental pity for the forlorn condition of "no girl but father," I set out at once to try if female tact and perseverance might not prove effectual in ferreting out a " help," though mere in- dustry had not succeeded. For this purpose I made a list in my mind of those neighbors, in the first place, whose daugh- ters sometimes condescended to be girls; and, secondly, of the few who were enabled by good luck, good management, and good pay, to keep them. If I failed in my attempts upon one class, I hoped for some new lights from the other. When the object is of such importance, it is well to string one's bow double. In the first category stood Mrs. Lowndes, whose forlorn log- house had never known door or window ; a blanket supplying the place of the one, and the other being represented by a crev- ice between the logs. Lifting the sooty curtain with some timid- ity, I found the dame with a sort of reel before her, trying to wind some dirty, tangled yarn; and ever and anon kicking at a basket which hung suspended from the beam overhead by means of a strip of hickory bark. This basket contained a nest of rags and an indescribable baby ; and in the ashes on the rough hearth played several dingy objects, which I suppose had once been babies. " Is your daughter at home now, Mrs. Lowndes ?" " Well yes ! M'randy's to hum, but she's out now. Did you want her ?" "I came to see if she could go to Mrs. Larkins, who is very unwell, and sadly in want of help." " Miss Larkins ! why, do tell ! I want to know ! Is she sick agin ? and is her gal gone ? Why ! I want to know ! I thought she had Lo-i-sy Paddon ! Is Lo-i-sy gone ?" "I suppose so. You will let Miranda go to Mrs. Larkins, will you?" " Well, I donnow but I would let her go for a spell, just to 'commodate 'em. M'randy may go if she's a mind ter. She needn't live out unless she chooses. She's got a comfortable home, and no thanks to nobody. What wages do they jvivc T' " A dollar a week." " Eat at the table ?" "Oh! certainly." "Have Sundays?" " Why no I believe not the whole of Sunday the children you know " " Oh ho !" interrupted Mrs. Lowndes, with a most disdainful HIE LADIES' READER. 97 ;' the head, giving at the same time a vigorous impulse to the cradle, " if fiat's how it is, M'randy don't'stir a step ! She don't live nowhere if she can't come home Saturday night and ill Monday morning." 1 took my leave without farther parley, having often found this point the AIM fjna non in such negotiations, My next effort was at a pretty-looking cottage, whose over- hanging roof and neat outer arrangements, spoke of English ownership. The int.-rior by no means corresponded with the . beiiiLT even more bare thnn usual, and far from . The presiding power was a prodigious creature, who looked like a man in woman's clothes, and whose blazing face, ornamented here and there by great hair moles, spoke very in- telligently of the beer barrel, if of nothing more exciting. A daughter of this virago had <>nee lived in my family, and the inoth'T mcf me with an air of defiance, as if she thought I had come with an accusation. When I unfolded my errand, her ned ;i little, but she scornfully rejected the idea of her Lucy living with any more Yankees. '* You pretend to think everybody alike," said she, " but when it comes to the pint, you're a sight more uppish and saucy than the ra'al Duality at home; and I'll seethe whole Yankee race to " I made my c\it without waiting for the conclusion of this complimentary observation ; and the less reluctantly for having observed on the table the lower part of one of my silver tea- spoons, the top of which had been violently wrenched off. This spoon was a well-renienihi-ivd ],> during Lucy's administration, and I knew that Mr-. Larkins had none to spare. thus far among the arbiters of our destiny, I thought I would .-top at the house of a friend, and make some inhumes which mi-_rlit spare me farther rebuffs. On making my way by the garden gate to the little library where I usually -au Mix Stavner, I was surprised to find it silent and uninhab- The \\indo\vs were closed; a half-finished cap lay on the and a bunch of yesterday's wild-flowers upon the table. All spoke of doolation. The cradle not exactly an appropri- Ijunct of a library scene elsewhere, but quite so at the I--, and the little rocking-chair was nowhere^to n. 1 went on through parlor and hall, finding no sign of lite, save the breakfast -table still standing with crumbs un- disturbed. Where bells are not known ceremony is out of the ; so I penetrated even to th'e kitchen, where at length 98 THE LADIES' READER, T I caught sight of the fair face of my friend. She was bending over the bread-tray, and at the same time telling nursery-stories as fast as possible, by way of coaxing her little boy of four years old to rock the cradle which contained his baby sister. " What does this mean ?" " Oh ! nothing more than usual. My Polly took herself off yesterday without a moment's warning, saying she thought she had lived out about long enough; and poor Tom, our factotum, has the ague. Mr. Stayner has gone to some place sixteen miles off, where he was told he might hear of a girl, and I am sole representative of the family energies. But you've no idea what capital bread I can make. This looked rather discouraging for my quest ; but knowing that the main point of table-companionship was the source of most of Mrs. Stayner' s difficulties, I still hoped for Mrs. Larkins, who loved the closest intimacy with her "help," and always took them visiting with her. So I passed on for another effort at -Mrs. Randall's, whose three daughters had sometimes been known to lay aside their dignity long enough to obtain some much-coveted article of dress. Here the mop was in full play ; and Mrs. Randall, with her gown turned up, was splashing di- luted mud on the walls and furniture, in the received mode of those regions, where " stained-glass windows" are made without a patent. I did not venture in, but asked from the door with my best diplomacy, whether Mrs. Randall knew of a girl. " A gal ! no ; who wants a gal ?" "Mrs. Larkins." " She ! why don't she get up and do her own work?" " She is too feeble." " Law sakes ! too feeble ! she'd be able as anybody to thrash round, if her old man didn't spile her by waitin' on " We think Mrs. Larkin deserves small blame on this score. " But, Mrs. Randall, the poor woman is really ill and unable to do anything for her children. Couldn't you spare Rachel for a few days to help her ?" This was said in a most guarded and deprecatory tone, and with a manner carefully moulded between indifference and un- due solicitude. "My gals has got enough to do. They a' n't able to do their own work. Cur'line hasn't been worth the fust red cent for hard work ever since she went to school to A ." " Oh ! I did not expect to get Caroline. I understand she is going to get married." Tin-] LAD IKS' TifiADKR. 99 ' What ! toj>ill (oven ! She wouldn't let him walk where she walked last ear;" 1 saw I hal made a misstep. Kesolving to be more cautious, I left the selection to the lady herself, and only beg- iT'-'l tor one of tin- girls. l.ut my eloquence was wasted. Tlio Mi; heen celebrated for this species of amusement. Families were known and celebrated in her tra- ditions lor dexterous -kill with the oar, as they were known in Rome f"r fe.-iis of a far le useful and of a more barbarous na- It was usual to select from these races of watermen the most vigorous and skilful; and, after invoking the aid of patron- . and arousing their ]>ride and recollections by songs that ::it"d th" Tents of 1 heir ancestors, to start them for the goal with every incitement that pride and the love of victory could u. MO-: (/ Ht tisages were still observed. Assoonas the IJ;i.-.-iitaur was in its Mation, some thirty or forty gondo- brouixht torth, clad in their gayest habiliments and surrounded and supported by crowds of anxious friends and 100 THE LADIES' HEADER. relatives. The intended competitors were expected to sustain the long-established reputations of their several names, and they were admonished of the disgrace of defeat. They were cheered by the men, and stimulated by the smiles and tears of the other sex. The rewards were recalled to their minds; they were fortified by prayers to the saints; and then they were dis- missed amid the cries and the wishes of the multitude to seek their allotted places beneath the stern of the galley of state. The city of Venice is divided into two nearly equal parts by a channel much broader than that of the ordinary passages of the town. This dividing artery, from its superior size and depth, and its greater importance, is called the grand canal. Its course is not unlike that of an undulating line, which greatly increases its length. As it is much used by the larger boats of the bay being in fact a sort of secondary port and its width is so considerable, it has throughout the whole distance but one bridge the celebrated Rialto. The regatta was to be held on this canal, which offered the requisites of length and space, and which, as it was lined with most of the palaces of the principal senators, afforded all the facilities necessary for viewing the struggle. In passing from one end of this long course to the other, the men destined for the race were not permitted to make any ex- ertion. Their eyes roamed over the gorgeous hangings, which, as is still wont throughout Italy on all days of festa, floated from every window, and on groups of females in rich attire, brilliant with the peculiar charms of the famed Venetian beauty that clustered in the balconies. Those who were domestics rose and answered to the encouraging signals thrown from above, as they passed the palaces of their masters ; while those who were watermen of the public endeavored to gather hope among the sympathizing faces of the multitude. At length every formality had been duly observed, and the competitors assumed their places. The gondolas were much larger than those commonly used, and each was manned by three watermen in the center, directed by a fourth, who, stand- ing on the little deck in the stern, steered while he aided to impel the boat. There were light, low staffs in the bows, with flags that bore the distinguishing colors of several noble families of the republic, or which had such other simple devices as had been suggested by the fancies of those to whom they belonged. A few flourishes of the oars, resembling the preparatory move- ments which the muster of fence makes ere he begins to push THE LADIES' READER. 101 and parry, were given ; a whirling of the boats, like the pranc- ing of curbed ru'-rrs, succeeded ; and then at the report of a gun, tin.- whole darted away as if the gondolas were impelled by vo- lition. The start uas followed by a shout which passed swiftly the canal and an eager agitation of heads that went from balcony to balcony, till the sympathetic movement was commu- nicated to the -rave load under which the Bucentaur labored. For a few minutes the difference in force and skill was not bvi<>us. Kneh gondola glided along the element, appar- ently N\*ith thai th which a li^ht- winded swallow skims the lake, and with no visible advantage to any one of the ten. Then, as HK-IV art in him who steered, or greater powers of en- durance in thosr who n>\\ed,or some of the latent properties of the boat itself came into service, tin- cluster of little barks which had conn- oilTikr a closely united flock of birds taking flight to- gether in alarm, be-an to open till they formed a long and va- cillating line in tin- centre of the passage. The whole train shot beneath the bridge, so near each other as to render it still doubtful which was to conquer, and the exciting strife came more in view of the principal personages of the city. lint here those radical qualities, which insure success in ef- forts of this nature manifested themselves. The weaker began to yield, the train to lengthen, and hopes and fears to increase, until those in the front presented the exhilarating spectacle of success,, while those behind offered the still more noble sight of men struggling without hope. Gradually the distance between the boats increased, while that between them and the goal grew rapidly less, until three of those in advance came in, like glanc- rroWB, beneath the stern of the Bucentaur, with scarce a length between them. The pri/o was won, the conquerors were rewarded, ami the artillery gave forth the usual signals of re- joicing. Music answered to the roar of cannon and the peals of bells, while sympathy with success, that predominant and so often dangerous principle of our nature, drew shouts even from the disappointed. The clamor ceased, and a herald proclaimed aloud the com- mencement of a new and a different struggle. The last, and what might be termed the national race, had been limited, by an ancient usage, to the known and recognized gondoliers of Venice. The pri/.c had been awarded by the state, and the whole affair had somewhat of an official and political character. It was now announced, however, that a race was to be run in which the reward was open to all competitors, without question- 102 THE LADIES' READER. ing as to their origin, or as to their ordinary occupations. An oar of gold, to which was attached a chain of the same precious metal, exhibited as the boonc of the doge to him who showed most dexterity and strength in this new struggle ; while a simi- lar ornament of silver, was to be the portion of him who showed the second best dexterity and bottom. A mimic boat of less pre- cious metal was the third prize. The gondolas were to be the usual light vehicles of the canals, and as the object was to dis- play the peculiar skill of that city of islands, but one oarsman was allowed to each, on whom would necessarily fall th*e whole duty of guiding while he impelled his little bark. Any of those who had been engaged in the previous trial were admitted to this : and all desirous of taking part in the new struggle were commanded to come beneath the stern of the Bncentaur, within a prescribed number of minutes, that note might be had of their wishes. As notice of this arrangement had been previously given, the interval between the two races was not long. The first who came out of the crowd of boats which envi- roned the vacant place that had been left for the competitors, was a gondolier of the public landing, well known for his skill with the oar, and his song on the canal. "How art thou called, and in whose name dost thou put thy chance?" demanded the herald of this aquatic course. "All know me for Bartolomeo, one who lives between the Piazzetta and the Lido, and, like a loyal Venetian, I trust in San Teodoro." " Thou art well protected ; take thy place and await thy for- tune." The conscious waterman swept the water with a back stroke of hislblade, and the light gondola whirled away into the cen- tre of the vacant spot like a swan giving a sudden glance aside. " And who art thou !" demanded the official of the next that came. " Enrico, a gondolier of Fusina. I come to try my oars with the braggarts of the canals." " In whom is thy trust !" " Sant' Antonio di Padua." "Thou wilt need his aid, though we commend thy spirit. Enter and take place." "And who art thou?" he continued, to another, when the second had imitated the easy skill of the first. " I am called Gino of Calabria, a gondolier in private service." " What noble retaineth thee ?" " The illustrious and most excellent Don Camillo Monforte, T1IK LADIES' READER. 103 Duca and Lord of Sant' Agata in Napoli, and of right a senator in Yenice." Thou shouldst have come of Padua, friend, by thy knowl- edge of the laws ! Dost thou trust in him thou servest for the ry ?" There \\as u movement among the senators at the answer of (iino; and the half-terrified varlet thought he perceived frowns gathering on more than one brow. He looked around in quest of him whose greatness lie liad vaunted, as if he sought succor. 4t Wilt thou name thy support in this great trial of force?" re-limed the hi-rald. u My master," uttered the terrified Gino, "St. Januarius, and [ark." "Thou art well defended. Should the two latter fail thee, th"ii ma\vst surely count on the lir>t 1" lorte has an illustrious name, and he is welcome to our Venetian sport >," ol.-.-n ed the doge, slightly bending his head toward the young Calal-rian noble, who stood at no -ivat distance in a gondola of state, regarding the scene with a deej.ly-intere.-ted eoiiiitenancc. This cautious interruption of the pleasantries of the official was acknowledged by a low reve- . and the matter proceeded. "Take thy station, <;ino O f Calabria, and a happy fortune be thine." r-aiign from the dogi arrested his arm. " Question of him, as of wont," said the prince. "Now art thou named?" continued the reluctant official, who, like all of subordinate condition, had far more jealousy of the dignity of the sports he directed than his superior. " 1 am known as Antonio, a fisherman of the Lagunes." tlOU art old!" " Signore, none know it better than I. It is sixty summers -nnce 1 first threw net or line into the water." 104 THE LADIES' READER. "Nor art thou clad as befitteth one who comcth before the state of Venice in a regatta.'' " I am here in the best that 1 have. Let them who would do the nobles greater honor come in better." " Thy limbs are uncovered thy bosom bare thy sinews fee- ble go to ; thou art ill advised to interrupt the pleasures of the nobles by this levity." Again Antonio would have shrunk from the ten thousand eyes that shone upon him, when the calm voice of the doge once more came to his aid. "The struggle is open to all," said the sovereio*n; "still I would advise the poor and aged man to take counsel ; give him silver, for want urges him to this hopeless trial." " Thou hearest ; alms are offered thee ; but give place to those who are stronger and more seemly for the sport." " I will obey, as is the duty of one born and accustomed to poverty. They said the race was open to all, and I crave the pardon of the nobles, since I meant to do them no dishonor." "Justice in the palace, and justice on the canals," hastily ob- served the prince. " If he will continue, it is right. It is the pride of Saint Mark that his balances are held with an even hand." A murmur of applause succeeded the specious sentiment, for the powerful rarely affect the noble attribute of justice, however limited may be its exercise, withont their words finding an echo in the tongues of the selfish. "Thou hearest his highness, who is the voice of a mighty state, says thou mayest remain : though thou art still advised to withdraw." " I will then see what virtue is left in this naked arm," re- turned Antonio, casting a mournful glance, and one that was not entirely free from the latent vanity of man, at his meagre and threadbare attire. " The limb hath its scars, but the infi- dels may have spared enough for the little I ask." " In whom is thy faith ?" " Blessed St. Anthony, of the Miraculous Draught." " Take thy place ! Ha ! here comcth one unwilling to be known ! How now ! who appears with so false a face ?" " Call me, Mask." "So neat and just a leg and arm need not have hid their fel- low the countenance. Is it your highness's pleasure that one disguised should be entered for the sports ?" " Doubt it not. A mask is sacred in Venice. It is the glory T1IK LADIES' READER. 10 5 of our excellent and wise laws, that he who seeketh to dwell within the privacy of his own thoughts, and to keep aloof from curiosity by shadowing his features, rangeth our streets and canals, a- if he dwelt in the security of his own abode. Such arc the high privileges of liberty, and such it is to be a citizen of a onerous, a magnanimous, and a free state!" A thousand bowed in approbation of the sentiment, and a rumor pa i-d from mouth to mouth that a young noble was about to try his strength in the regatta, in compliment to some wayward beauty. - ;.-li 18 justice!" exclaimed the herald, in a loud voice, ad- miration apparently o\viv,>ming respect in the ardor of the mo- ment. " Happy i> In- tliat is born in Venice, and envied are the people in wli>se councils wisdom and mercy preside, like lovely and benignant sisters 1 On whom dost thou rely?" Mine o\\n arm." I la ! This is impious ! Xoiie so presuming may enter into privili-Mvd >port>." Tin- hurried exelamation of the herald was accompanied by jucli as denotes sudden and strong emotion in a multitude. " The children of the republic arc protected by an even hand," ob-erved the venerable prince. "It formeth our just pride, and 1 St. Mark forbid that aught resembling vain-glory should be uttered ! but it is truly our boast that we know no differ- ence between our subjects of the islands, or those of the Dalma- lian coast; between I'adua orCandia; Corfu or St. Giorgio. Still it is not permitted for any to refuse the intervention of the saints." Name thy patron, or quit the place," continued the observ- ant herald, an.-u. The >t ranker paused, as if lie looked into his mind, and then he an-\\eivd "San Giovanni of the wilderness/' "Thon namest one of bleed memory!" "I name him who mav have pity on me in this living de- "The tamper of tliv -"ill is best known to thyself, but this ml rank of patririans, yonder brilliant show of beauty, and that goodly multitude mav claim another name. Take thy place. 91 While the herald proceeded to take the names of three or four more applicants, all gondoliers in private service, a mur- 5* 106 THE LADIES' HEADER. mur ran through, the spectators, which proved how much their interest and curiosity had been awakened by the replies and appearance of the two last competitors. In the meantime, the young nobles who entertained those who came last, began to move among the throngs of boats with the intention of making such manifestations of their gallant desires and personal devo- tion as suited the customs and opinions of the age. The list was now proclaimed to be full, and the gondolas were towed off, as before, toward the starting point, leaving the place be- neath the stern of the Bucentaur vacant. The scene that fol- lowed consequently passed directly before the eyes of those grave men, who charged themselves with most of the private interests, as well as with the public concerns of Venice It has been said that the gondolas which were to contend in the race, had been towed toward the place of starting, in order that the men might enter on the struggle with undiminished vigor. In this precaution, even the humble and half-clad fish- erman had not been neglected, but his boat, like the others, was attached to the larger barges to which this duty had been as- signed. Still, as he passed along the canal, before the crowded balconies and groaning vessels which lined its sides, there arose that scornful and deriding laugh, which seems ever to grow more strong and bold as misfortune weighs most heavily on its subject. The old man was not unconscious of the remarks of which he was the subject ; and, as it is rare indeed that our sensibil- ities do not survive our better fortunes, even he was so far con- scious of a fall as not to be callous to contempt thus openly expressed. He looked wistfully on every side of him, and seemed to search in every eye he encountered some portion of the sympathy which his meek and humble feelings still craved. But even the men of his caste and profession threw jibes upon his ear; and though of all the competitors perhaps the one whose motives most hallowed his ambition, he was held to be the only proper subject of mirth. For the solution of this re- volting trait of human character, we are not to look to Venice and her institutions, since it is known that none are so arrogant on occasions as the ridden, and that the abject and insolent spir- its are usually tenants of the same bosom. The movement of the boats brought those of the masked waterman and the subject of these taunts side by side. "Thou art not the favorite in this strife," observed the former, when a fresh burst of jibes were showered on the head TI1K LAIUKS' READER. 107 of his unresisting associate. Thou hast not been sufficiently heedful of thy attire; for this is a town of luxury, and he who would meet applause mu-t appear on the canals in the guise of one le-s home upon l>y fortune." I know tin in ! I know them!" returned tne fisherman; 'they are all led away by their pride, and they think ill of one wh-> cannot share in their vanities. But, friend unknown, I have brought with me a face which, old though it be, and wrin- kled, and worn by the weather like the stones of the sea-shore, is uncovered to the eye and without shame." "There may be reasons which thou knowest not why I wear :i mask, lint if my face he hid, the limbs are hare, and thou no lack of sinews to make good that which I have undertaken. Thou shonldst have thought better of the matter ere thou pnttest thyself in the way of so much morti- tic.-ition. 1 Meat will not cause the people to treat thcc more tenderly." "If mv -inews are old and stiffened, Signor Mask, they are ;-e ml prize, if, by any manner of skill, I might aid thee in t hy efforts i for, I suppose, the metal of the third is as little to thy ta-te as it is to my own." " Nay, I count not on gold or silver." " Can the honor of such a struggle awaken the pride of one like tl The ,.ld man looked earnestly at his companion; but he ihook his h,..-id without answer. Fresh merriment, at his ex- l>ense, caused him to bend his face toward the scoffers; and he perceived they were just then pacing a numerous group of his fellows of the Lagunes, who seemed to feel that his unjustifiable ambition reflected, in some degree, on the honor of their whole body. ''How, now, old Antonio?" shouted the boldest of the band 108 THE LADIES' READER. " is it not enough that tliou hast won the honors of the net, but thou wouldst have a golden oar at thy neck?" " We shall yet see him of the senate !" cried a second. " He standeth in need of the horned bonnet for his naked head," continued a third. " We shall see the brave Admiral Antonio sailing in the Bucentaur with the nobles of the land !" Their sallies were succeeded by coarse laughter. Even the fair in the balconies were not uninfluenced by these constant jibes, and the apparent discrepancy between the condition and the means of so unusual a pretender to the honors of the re- gatta. The purpose of the old man wavered ; but he seemed goaded by some inward incentive that still enabled him to maintain his ground. His companion closely watched the va- rying expression of a countenance that was far too little trained in deception to conceal the feelings within ; and, as they ap- proached the place of starting, he again spoke. " Thou mayest yet withdraw," he said ; " why should one of thy years make the little time he has to stay bitter, by bearing the ridicule of his associates for the rest of his life ?" "St. Anthony did a greater wonder when he caused the fishes to come upon the waters to hear his preaching, and I will not show a cowardly heart at a moment when there is most need of resolution." The masked waterman crossed himself devoutly ; and relin- quishing all further design to persuade the other to abandon the fruitless contest, he gave all his thoughts to his own interest in the coming struggle. The narrowness of most of the canals of Venice, with the in- numerable angles and the constant passing, have given rise to a fashion of construction and of rowing that are so peculiar to that city and its immediate dependencies, as to require some ex- planation. The reader has doubtless already understood that a gondola is a long, narrow, and light boat, adapted to the uses of the place, and distinct from, the wherries of all other towns. The distance between the dwellings, on most of the canals, is so small, that the width of the latter does not admit of the use of oars on both sides at the same time. The necessity of con- stantly turning aside to give room for others, and the frequency of the bridges and the corners, have suggested the expediency of placing the face of the waterman in the direction in which the boat is steering, and of course of keeping him on his feet. As every gondola, when fully equipped, has its pavilion in the THE LADIES' READER. 109 centre, tin- height of the latter renders it necessary to place him who steers on such an elevation, as will enable him to overlook it. From these several causes, a one-oared boat in Venice is propelled l>y a gondolier who stands on a little angular deck in rii, formed like the low roof of a house; and the stroke of the oar is given by a push instead of a pull, as is common else- where. This habit of rowing erect, however, which is usually lour by a forward, instead of a backward, movement of the body is not untVef the water. All these difficulties united render skill in a gon- >f the mo.xt delieate branches of a waterman's art, as it i> dear that muscular strength alone, though of great aid, can avail but little in such a practice. The M-reat canal of Venice, following its windings, being more than a Iragui- in length, the distance in the present race was re- duced nearlv half by causing the boats to start from the llialto. At this point, then, the gondolas were all assembled, attended by those who were to pla<-e them. As the whole of the popu- , which before had been extended along the entire course of the water, was now crowded between the bridge and the liaur, the lon-j; and graceful avenue resembled a vista of human heads. It was an imposing sight to look along that bright, and living lane, and the hearts of each competitor beat liMi, as hope, .,r pride, or apprehension became the feeling of ;lie moment. * "Ciii,, of Calabria," cried the marshal who placed the gon- dolas, "thy station is on the right. Take it, and St. Januarius '1 thee !" HO THE LADIES' READER. The servitor of Don Carnillo assumed his oar, and the boat glided gracefully into its berth. "Thou comest next, Enrico of Fusina, Call stoutly on thy Paduan patron, and husband thy strength ; for none of the main have ever yet borne away a prize in Venice." He then summoned in succession those whose names have not been mentioned, and placed them, side by side, in the cen- tre of the canal. " Here is place for thee, Signore," continued the officer, in- clining his head to the unknown gondolier ; for he had imbibed the general impression that the face of some young patrician was concealed beneath the mask to humor the fancy of some capricious fair. "Chance hath given thee the extreme left." "Thou hast forgotten to call the fisherman," observed the masker, as he drove his own gondola into its station. "Does the hoary fool persist in exposing his vanity and his rags to the best of Venice ?" " I can take place in the rear," meekly observed Antonio. " There may be those in the line it doth not become one like me to crowd ; and a few strokes of the oar, more or less, can differ but little in so long a strife." "Thou hadst better push modesty to discretion, and remain." " If it be your pleasure, Signore, I would rather see what St. Anthony may do for an old fisherman, who has prayed to him, night and morning, these sixty years?" " It is thy right ; and as thou seemest content with it, keep the place thou hast in the rear. It is only occupying it a little earlier than thou wouldst otherwise. Now, recall the rules of the games, hardy gondoliers, and make thy last appeal to thy patrons. There is to be no crossing or other foul expedients ; naught except ready oars and nimble wrists. He who varies needlessly from his line until he leadeth, shall be recalled by name ; and whoever is guilty of any act to spoil the sports, or otherwise to offend the patricians, shall be both checked and punished. Be ready for the signal." The assistant, who was in a strongly manned boat, fell back a little, while runners, similarly equipped, went ahead to order the curious from the water. These preparations were scarcely made, when a signal floated on the nearest dome. It was re- peated on the canpanile, and a gun was fired at the arsenal. A deep but suppressed murmur arose in the throng, which was as quickly succeeded by suspense. Each gondolier had suffered the bows of his boat to incline Till-] LAWKS* READER. 11] slightly toward the loft shore of the canal, as the jockey is seen at tho starting-}Mt to turn his courser aside, in order to repress its ardor, or divert its attention. But the first long and broad sweep of the oar brought them all in a line again, and away they glided in a body. the \\r>[ few minutes there was no difference in speed, n<>r any Mgn by which tho instructed might detect the proba- ble evidence of defeat or success. The whole ton which formed the trout line skimmed the water with an etjiial velocity, beak t' beak, as if some M-eivt attraction held each in its place, while the humble, though equally light bark of the fisherman steadily :ts position in the rear. * -V.- * * * * [Antonio is allowed by " the .Mask" to take the lead in the race.] I.'AU.ttlKO-MtLTOX. Come, thou goddess fair and free, In heaven yclep,d Kuphrosyne. Haste thee. nymph, and bring with tlieo Jest, and youthful jollity, . and cranks, ami wanton wiles, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek ; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. and trip it, as y On the light fantastic a thy riiiht hand lead with the" The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; nor due, Mirth, admit mo of thy To live, with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures u- the lark begin his Might, And singing startle- the dull night, From i,; iwer in tin- Till the dappii-d dawn doth : Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the sweejbriar. or the vine, Or ti. While the cock, with lively din, Scattersthe rear of darkness tliin, 112 THE LADIES' READER. And to the stack, or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before : Oft listening how the hounds and horn, Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn. From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing .shrill. Sometimes walking, not unseen, By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate Where the great sun begins his state, Rob'd in flames, and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; "While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singing blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale, Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures. While the landscape round it measures; Russet lawns, and fallows grey. Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The laboring clouds do often rest i Meadows trim with daisies pied, - Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies. The cynosure of neighboring eyes. Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met, Are at their savory dinner set Of herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses ; And then in haste her bower she leaves, With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; Or, if the earlier season lead, To the tann'd haycock in the mead. Sometimes with secure delight The upland hamlets will invite, When the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth and many a maid, Dancing in the checker'd shade ; And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holyday, Till the livelong daylight fail ; Then to spicy nut-brown ale, With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets eat- THE L ADI hlS' KKADK1'. 113 She was pinched, and pull'd, she said; And ho, \>y friar's lantern led, Tolls how the drr.d^iiiir gol>let sweat n his cream bowl duly set. When in one night, ere glimpse of morn, His shadowy tlail hath threslfd the com, That ton day laborers could not end ; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length, the lire his hairy Strength; ; crop-full out of doors ho flings Kre the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep. Towvr'd -us then, And the busy hum of men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of IKWC high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, With mask, and antique pageantry; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to tlic well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakspeare, fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. ing cares, Lap me in soft Lydiau airs, Married to immortal verse; Such as the meeting KOU! may pierce, In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked .- 'iig drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning; The melting voice through mu/.es running, rntwi