<^ 
 
 A. P. Lan.Re 
 
S A N D E K S 
 
 UNION FOURTH READER: 
 
 EMBRACING A FULL EXPnSTTION- OF THE 
 
 PRINCIPLES OF RHETORICAL READING; 
 
 NUMEROUS EXERCISES FOR PRACTICE, 
 
 BOTH IX PROSE AND POETRY, VARIOUS IN STYLE, AND CAREFULLY ADAPTED 
 TO THE PURPOSES OF TEACHINa IN SCHOOLS OF EVERY GRADE. 
 
 By CHARLES W. SANDERS, A.M., 
 
 ATTfHOE OF "A SERIES OF SCHOOL READERS," "YOUNG LADIES' READER," "SPELLEK, 
 DBFINER, AND ANALYZER," "ELOCUTIONARY CHART," ETC. 
 
 NEW Y ORK: 
 IVISON, PHINNEY, BLAKEMAN & COMPANY, 
 
 Nos. 48 & 50 WALKER STREET. 
 
 CHICAGO : S. C. GRIGGS & CO., 39 & 41 LAKE ST. 
 
 1866. 
 
NEWLY ILLUSTRATED AND ENLARGED. 
 
 SANDERS' PRIMARY SPELTTSb -£ 
 
 SANDERS' PICTORIAL PRIMER. Bound (Green Covers) 
 
 SANDERS   NE W SPEL L ER, DE FINER, AND ANAL YZEB. 
 
 SANDERS' NEW FIRST READER 
 
 SANDERS' NEW SECOND READER 
 
 SANDERS' NEW THIRD READER. 
 
 SANDERS' NEW FOURTH READER 
 
 SANDERS' NEW FIFTH RE A DER. (Revised) 
 
 SANDERS' HIGH SCHOOL READER. 
 
 SANDERS' YOUNG LADIES' READER 
 
 SANDERS' SCHOOL SPEAKER 
 
 SANDERS' ANALYSIS OF ENGLISH WORDS. 
 
 SANDERS' ELOCUTIONARY CHART 
 
 SANDERS' PRIMARY HAND CARDS, Six in a Set 
 
 SANDERS' PRIMARY SCHOOL CHARTS Large Type, for Teaching 
 Primary Scliools in Concert 8 Nos. on 4 Cards 
 
 SA]!fDERS' Ux^IO^^ SERIES OF READERS. 
 
 JUST PUBLISHED. 
 
 SANDERS' UyiON SPELLER 
 
 SANDERS' UNION PRIMER. 
 
 SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER ONE 
 
 SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER TWO % 
 
 SANDERS' UNION RE A DER, NUMBER THREE 
 
 SANDERS' UNION READER, NUMBER FOUR 
 
 SANDERS ' UNION READER, NUMBER FIVE 
 
 SANDERS UNION SPEAKER 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1863, by 
 CHARLES W. SANDERS, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern 
 District of New York. 
 
 Electrotyped by Smith Je MoDouaxL, 82 & 84 Boekman St 
 
 I 
 
f'- 
 
 » ^ • J 
 
 PEEF ACE 
 
 This Fourth Reader is designed to pass the pupil from the 
 comparatively easy ground occupied by the Third to the more 
 diflScult course embraced in The Union Fifth Reader, which is 
 the highest in the series. It-is, therefore, carefully graded to this 
 intermediate position. 
 
 In one sense, however, it is the most important in the set ; 
 since the great mass of pupils, in our common schools, are drawn 
 away from scholastic pursuits long before the proper time for 
 entering upon any course of reading more advanced than that 
 which is here presented. This consideration has had its full 
 weight in the preparation of the following pages. 
 
 Every exercise will be found to bear the impress of that special 
 adaptation to the purposes of teaching, without which no book 
 of this kind can fully perform the office which it assumes. The 
 labor expended in this direction, though all unseen by the casual 
 observer, has been neither light nor brief. It can be duly appre- 
 ciated by none but the experienced teacher. 
 
 All words in the exercises, requiring explanation, have been 
 arranged, as regular lessons in spelling and definition. In these 
 definitions, however, it must be kept in mind, that no attempt 
 has been made to give all the meanings of which a word is sus- 
 ceptiple, but that only which it hears in the particular place in 
 the exercise where it is found. There is a special educational 
 advantage in thus leading the mind of the pupil definitely to fix 
 upon the precise import of a word, in some particular use or 
 application of it. 
 
 All proper names, occurring in the text, and at all likely to 
 embarrass the learner, have been explained in brief, comprehensive 
 notes. These notes involve many matters, Geographical, Bio- 
 
iy • ' -^ • ' • PREFACE. 
 
 grstpbical, arid ' Histori-cftT, wLicli are not a little interesting in 
 themselves, aside from the special purpose subserved by them in 
 the present connection. 
 
 All this has been done, and more, in order to secure that kind 
 of interest in the exercises which comes of reading what is clearly- 
 understood ; and because no perfect reading is possible, where 
 the reader himself fails to perceive the meaning of what he 
 reads. 
 
 In the selection and adaptation of the pieces, the highest aim 
 has been to make and to leave the best moral impression ; and 
 this, not by dull and formal teachings, but by the pleasanter, and, 
 therefore, more powerful, means of incidental and unexpected 
 suggestion. Admonition is then most likely to be heeded, when 
 it comes through the channel of events and circumstances. 
 
 The direct and ostensible aim of the book, however, has been 
 kept steadily in view ; which is to furnish the best possible exer- 
 cises for practice in Rhetorical reading. To this end, the great- 
 est variety of style and sentiment has been sought. There is 
 scarcely a tone or modulation, of which the human voice is 
 capable, that finds not here some piece adapted precisely to its 
 best expression. There is not an inflection, however delicate, 
 not an emphasis, however slight, however strong, that does not 
 here meet with something fitted well for its amplest illustration. 
 No tenderness of pathos, no earnestness of thought, no play of 
 wit, no burst of passion, is there, perhaps, of which the accom- 
 plished teacher of Elocution may not find the proper style of 
 expression in these pages, and, consequently, the best examples 
 for the illustration of his art. 
 
 The book, thus briefly described, is, therefore, given to the 
 public with the same confidence that has hitherto inspired the 
 author in similar efforts, and with the hope that it may reach 
 even a higher measure of usefulness, than that attained by any 
 of its predecessors, in the long line of works which he has pre- 
 pared for the use of schools. 
 
 New York, April, 1863. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PARTFIRST 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 '\ection I. — Articulation 13 
 
 Elementary Sounds of the Letters 14 
 
 Substitutes for the Vowel Elements 15 
 
 Substitutes for the Consonant Elements IG 
 
 Errors in Articulation. 16 
 
 Combinations op Consonants IT, 18 
 
 Examples to Illustrate Indistinct Articulation 19 
 
 Miscellaneous Examples 20 
 
 Section IL — Accent and Emphasis 21 
 
 Examples of Primary and Secondary Accent 21 
 
 Examples of Intensive Emphasis 22 
 
 Examples of Absolute Emphasis 23 
 
 Examples of Antithetic Emphasis 24 
 
 Action III. — Inflections 25 
 
 Monotone 26 
 
 RisiNa AND Falling Inflections. 27 
 
 Rules for the Use of Inflections 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33 
 
 The Circumflex 34 
 
 Section IV. — Modulation 35 
 
 Pitch of Voice 36 
 
 Quantity. 37 
 
 Rules for Quantity 38 
 
 Quality 39 
 
 Rules for Quality 40 
 
 Notation in Modulation 41 
 
 Examples for Exercise in Modulation 41, 42, 43, 44 
 
 Section V. — The Rhetorical Pause 45, 46 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 I.ESSON- PAGE 
 
 1. True Heroism Adapted. Osborne, 47 
 
 2. You AND I Charles Mackay, 61 
 
 3. Life's "Work 53 
 
 4. The Young Captives 54 
 
 5. My Mother's Last Kiss. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith, 58 
 
yi CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSOK PASB 
 
 6. The Dead Child's Ford Mrs. E. Odkes Bmiih, 60 
 
 •7. Lame and Lazy. — A Fable 64 
 
 8. Faithfulness IN Little Things Adapted. Eliza A. Chase, 66 
 
 9. The Ameeican Boy 70 
 
 10. The Sailor Boy's Song Tl 
 
 11. Chase of the Pet Fawn .Adapted. Miss Cooper, 73 
 
 12. Kindness 77 
 
 13. Careless Words 80 
 
 14. Webster and the Woodchuck Adapted. Boston Traveler, 81 
 
 15. Do IT Yourself 84 
 
 16. Better Late than Never 86 
 
 17. The Adopted Child Mrs. EeTnans, 88 
 
 18. The Old Eagle Tree Rev. John Todd, 90 
 
 19. The Light of Knowledge Elihu Burriit, 93 
 
 20. Night's Lessons L. H. Sigoumey, 95 
 
 21. Nature's Teachings Chambers' Journal, 98 
 
 22. Sowing and Harvesting Anon., 99 
 
 23. A Thrilling Incident Adapted. Anon., 101 
 
 24. The Truthful King 105 
 
 25. When Shall I Answer, No J. K McElligott, 107 
 
 26. To Master Robert and John Davis, 109 
 
 27. Whang, the Miller Goldsmith, 113 
 
 28. Chimney-Swallows Henry Ward Beecher, 115 
 
 29. The Doubting Heart Adelaide Procter, 119 
 
 30. The Comin'g of Winter T. B. Bead, 120 
 
 31. Child Tired of Play N. F. Willis, 122 
 
 32. The Rescue By a Ssa Captain, 124 
 
 33. Robert Bruce and the Scotch Woman 128 
 
 34. Robert Bruce and the Spideit. Bernard Barton, 131 
 
 35. Wealth and Fashion Miss Edgworth, 135 
 
 36. My First Jack-knife 138 
 
 37. The Pine-tree Shillings Nathaniel Hawthxyi-ne, 143 
 
 38. Hiawatha's Hunting Longfellow, 147 
 
 39. A Desperate Encounter with a VxsiTn^-R. .Book of Adventures, 150 
 
 40. The Power of Habit John B. Gough, 156 
 
 41. The Drunkard's Daughter 158 
 
 42. The Two Young Travelers Adapted. Merry's Museum, 161 
 
 43. Higher ! 165 
 
 44. Labor .' Caroline F. Orne, 166 
 
 45. The Ambitious Apprentice 169 
 
 46. So was Franklin Anon., 175 
 
 47. Now AND Then Jane Taylor^ 178 
 
CONTENTS. y^ 
 
 J-KSSOX PACK 
 
 48. An Ingenious Stratagem Days ofwashington, 181 
 
 49. Frances Slocum, the Young Captive B. J. Lossing, 185 
 
 50. The Rain-drops Delia Louise Colton, 190 
 
 51. Small Things F. Bennoch, 192 
 
 52. Murderer's Creek. James K. Paulding, 194 
 
 53. Napoleon's Army Crossing the Alps Adapted. Anon., 198 
 
 54. "Where there's a "Will there's a Way Miza Cook, 201 
 
 55. "I Can " 202 
 
 56. Now, To-day Adelaide A. Procter, 204 
 
 57. Capture of Major Andre 206 
 
 58. Benedict Arnold 209 
 
 59. Behind Time Freeman Hunt, 212 
 
 60. How Happy I'll Be 214 
 
 61. The Sword of Bunker Hill WiUiam R. Wallace, 216 
 
 62. Bible Legend of the Wissahikon Lippard, 218 
 
 63. Advice to the Young F. H. Chapin, 222 
 
 64. The Intrepid Youth 224 
 
 65. Our Country's Call William C. Bryant, 229 
 
 66. Mrs. Credulous and the Fortune-teller 232 
 
 6*7. Faith, Hope, and Charity. — An Allegory 236 
 
 68. Not to Myself Alone aS^. W. Partridge, 240 
 
 69. The World would be the Better for it 242 
 
 70. Select Proverbs of Solomon Bible, 244 
 
 71. Winter Beauty Henry Ward Beecher, 247 
 
 72. Frosted Trees 251 
 
 73. The Mountains of Life James G. Clark, 255 
 
 74. Imaginary Evils Eliza- Cook, 256 
 
 75. Sir Walter and the Lion A. Walchner, 257 
 
 76. Choice Extracts • 260 
 
 I. "What Eeally Benefits us, 260. II. God's Love, 261. III. Life- 
 Work, 261. IV. Humility, 261. V. Benefits of Adversity. 262. 
 YI. Our Mountain Homes, 262. VII. Make a Beginning, 262. 
 VIII. Influence, 263. IX. Pleasure in Acquiring Knowledge, 
 264. X. What is Fame? 264. XL Cultivated Intellect, 265. 
 XII. God's Works Attest His Greatness, 265. 
 
 77 . Capture of the Whale   266 
 
 78. Leaves from an Aeronaut Willis Gaylord Clark, 271 
 
 79. The Dapple Mare John G. Saxe, 276 
 
 80. A Leap for Life George P. Morris, 279 
 
 81. The Indian Bride's Revenge. Adapted. L. M. Stowell, 281 
 
 82. A Mother's Love Albert Barnes, 286 
 
 83. The Life-Book Home Journal, 289 
 
 84. Ode on Solitude Fope, 291 
 
ylll CONTENTS. 
 
 LESSON PAGB 
 
 85. Getting fa Right Start J. G. Holland, 293 
 
 86. The Presumption of Youth BolUn, 297 
 
 8t. Song op the American Eagle 300 
 
 88. The Army op Reform Sarah Jane Lippincoit, 302 
 
 89. Last Cruise of the Monitor Adapted. Grenvilh M. Weeks 305 
 
 90. Duties and Responsibilities op Women Gail Hamilton, 313 
 
 91. Scene prom William Tell J. Sheridan Snowies, 317 
 
 92. The Rich Man and the Poor Man Khemnitzer, 322 
 
 93. Grandeur op the Ocean Walter Colton, 324 
 
 94. A Burial at Sea " " 328 
 
 95. The Treasures op the Deep — Mrs. Hemans, 330 
 
 96. The Bridge op Sighs ; . Thomas Hood, 332 
 
 97. A Requiem 334 
 
 98. YisiT to Mount Yernon A. G. Ritchie, 335 
 
 99. La Fayette Charles Sprague, 339 
 
 100. The Mystic Weaver 342 
 
 101. Work Away Harpers' Magazine^ 347 
 
 102. Queen Isabella's Resolve Vinet, 350 
 
 103. Discovery op the New World .Lamartine, 354 
 
 104. The Return op Columbus Vinet, 360 
 
 105. Two Hundred Years Ago Grenville Mellen, 362 
 
 106. Press On Park B-jnjamin, 365 
 
 107. The Three Forms op 'Mature. ,. .From tJie French of Michelet, 367 
 
 108. The Whale and the Whaler.... " " " 369 
 
 109. RiENZi's Address to the Romans Miss Mitford, 372 
 
 110. Song op the Forge 375 
 
 111. Choice Extracts 378 
 
 I. Swiftness op Time, 378. II. The Ship of State, 379. III. The 
 Tkue Hero, 379. IV. Heart Essential to Genius, 379. V. Edu- 
 cation, 380. VI. Vanity of "Wealth, 380. VII. Consolation op 
 THE Gospel. 381. VIII. The Light op IIopf., 381. IX. Pamper- 
 ing the Body and Starving the Soul, 882. 
 
 112. We all do Fade as a Leap. Gail Hamilton, 383 
 
 113. Teachings op Nature Pollok, 385 
 
 114. Passing Under the Rod Mary S. B. Dana, 387 
 
 115. The Petulant Man Osborne, 389 
 
 116. The Brahmin and the Rogues Versified hy J. K McElligott, 394 
 
 117. Living Within our Means S. W. Partridge, 398 
 
 118. Grandeur op the Universe 0. M. Mitchel, 401 
 
 11.9. "Whom have I in Heaven but TREiif\..PameliaS. Vining, 404 
 
 120. The Memory of Washington Kossuth. 405 
 
 121. The Lost One's Lament 407 
 
EXPLANATION OF THE PAUSES. 
 
 The Period is the longest pause — a full stop. It marks the 
 end of a sentence, and shows the sense complete ; as, The sky- 
 is blue\ Pause the time of counting six, and let the voice fall. 
 
 ? 
 
 The Interrogation is used at the end of a question ; as, Is 
 the sky blue' ? If the question can be answered by yes or wo, 
 the voice rises; if not, it falls ; as, Where is your map^? Pause 
 the time of counting six. 
 
 I 
 
 The Exclamation denotes wonder, surprise, pain, or joy ; 
 as, 0' ! what a sweet rose^ ! Pause the time of counting one^ 
 after a single word, and let the voice rise ; but .after a complete 
 sentence, pause the time of counting six, and let the voice fall. 
 
 The Colon is a pause shorter than the Period ; as, The sky- 
 is clear^ : the sun shines. Pause the time of counting fouVj and 
 let the voice fall. 
 
 The Semicolon is a pause shorter than the Colon ; as,. The 
 rose is fair^ ; but it soon fades. Pause the time of counting twOj 
 and let the voice fall. Sometimes the voice should rise, as the 
 sense may require. 
 
 4 U 1* 
 
^ SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 J 
 
 The Comma is the shortest pause ; as, Jane goes to school', 
 and learns to read. Pause the time of counting one, and keep 
 the voice up. 
 
 The Dash denotes a sudden pause or change of subject; as, 
 I saw him — but what a sight ! When the dash is used after any 
 other pause, the time of that pause is doubled. 
 
 EXPLMATION OF OTHER MARKS. 
 
 The Apostrophe has the form of the comma. It denotes 
 the possessive case ; . as, John's book ; also, that one or mora 
 letters have been left out of a word ; as, lov'd for loved. 
 
 U " 
 
 The Quotation includes a passage that is taken from some 
 other author or speaker ; as, John said ; " See my kite." 
 
 ( ) 
 
 Tlie Parenthesis includes words not properly a part of the 
 main sentence ; as, I like these people (who would not ?) very 
 much. The words within the parenthesis should be read in a 
 lower tone of voice. 
 
 [ ] 
 
 The Brackets inclose words that serve to explain the pre- 
 ceding word or sentence; as, James [the truthful boy] went 
 home. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ^ j^ 
 
 A 
 
 The Caret shows where words are to be put in that have 
 been omitted by mistake ; as, Live ^ peace. 
 
 The Diaeresis is placed over the latter of two vowels, to 
 show that they belong to two distinct syllables ; as, aerial. 
 
 The Hyphen is used to connect compound words; as, 
 "Well-doing ; or the parts of a word separated at the end of a 
 line. 
 
 The Index points to something special or remarkable ; as, 
 Important News ! 
 
 5^ <^ <^ <J r\-n ^_^^___ 
 
 ' The Ellipsis shows that certain words or letters have been 
 purposely omitted ; as, K**g, k . . g, or k g, for king. 
 
 1" 
 
 The Paragraph denotes the beginning of a new subject. 
 It is chiefly used in the Bible; as, •[[ The same day came to 
 him, etc. 
 
 The Section is used to divide a book or chapter into parts ; 
 as, § 45. 
 
 t t 
 
 The Asterisk, the Obelisk, the Double Dagger, and 
 sometimes other marks,* refer to notes in the margin. 
 
 * Jor instance : tbe Sbction marl^ §, and tho Parallel, |. 
 
xii SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 APPLICATION OF THE MARKS USED m WRITmG. 
 
 LINB 
 
 1 My Young Friends', never tell a falsehood^ ; but al- 
 
 2 ways speak the truth^ ; this is pleasing to your Maker. 
 
 3 Do you read His holy word — the Bible'? O! remem- 
 
 4 ber, that He has there said : " He that speaketh lies, shall 
 
 5 not escape : he shall perish."* Remember, too, that the 
 
 6 All-seeing God knows all that we say or do. 
 
 7 *![ Tho' wisdom's voice is seldom heard in k g's 
 
 8 palaces, — there have been wise kings (e. g, Solomon,) who 
 
 9 were lovM and obey'd by their subjects.f 
 
 10 Here, \i. e. in the IT. S.,] we can not boast of our kings, 
 
 11 princes, lords, &c. ; yet we have had a President, who, 
 
 12 in true greatness, surpass'ed them all; viz., the great 
 
 13 WASHINGTON. i^" Washington feared and hon- 
 
 14 ored God. 
 
 15 § Section, J Double Dagger, and || Parallel, are also used 
 
 16 for reference to the margin. 
 
 * Proverbs six. 5 and 9. f 1 Kings. 
 
SANDERS' 
 
 UNION READER. 
 
 N U M BE^^FO U R. 
 
 PART FIEST. 
 ELOCUTION. 
 
 Elocution is the art of delivering written or extempo- 
 raneous composition with force, propriety, and ease. 
 
 It deals, therefore, with words, not only as individuals, but aa 
 members of a sentence, and parts of a connected discourse : 
 including every thing necessary to the just expression of the 
 sense. Accordingly, it demands, in a special manner, attention 
 to the following particulars; viz.. Articulation, Accent, 
 Emphasis, Inflection, Modulation, and Pauses. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 articulation. 
 
 Articulation is the art of uttering distinctly and 
 justly the letters and syllables constituting a word. 
 
 It deals, therefore, with the elements of words, just as elocu- 
 tion deals with the elements of sentences : the one securing the 
 true enunciation of each letter, or combination of letters, the 
 other giving to each word, or combination of words, such a 
 delivery as best expresses the meaning of the author. It is the 
 l^sis of all good reading, and should be ^refully practiced by 
 the learner. 
 
 (18) . 
 
\/u^nl 
 
 U}\ 
 
 SANDBftS' UNION SERIES, 
 
 ELEMENTARY SOUNDS OF THE LETTERS. 
 
 VOWEL SOUNDS. 
 
 SDB-TONICS. 
 
 
 TONICS. 
 
 
 Element. 
 
 Power. 
 
 Element. 
 
 
 Power. 
 
 21.— a* as in Gun. 
 22.— J ^' Jet. 
 
 1.— ^A 
 
 as in 
 
 ^pe. 
 
 23.— L ' 
 
 * Let. 
 
 2.— 'A 
 
 (( 
 
 Arm. 
 
 24.— M < 
 
 ' ilfan. 
 
 3.— »A 
 
 (( 
 
 ^11. 
 
 25.— N ' 
 
 ' Mt. 
 
 4.— *A 
 
 u 
 
 At. 
 
 26.— R ' 
 
 * i?un. 
 
 6.— 5A 
 
 ii 
 
 Care. 
 
 27.— V 
 
 ' Fent. 
 
 6.— -A 
 
 u 
 
 ^sk. 
 
 28.— W ' 
 
 * TTent. 
 
 7.— ^E 
 
 u 
 
 Fyq. 
 
 29.— Y « 
 
 ' Fes. 
 
 8.— «E 
 
 il 
 
 ^nd. 
 
 30.— iZ ' 
 
 ' Zeal. 
 
 9.— ^I 
 
 u 
 
 Ice. 
 
 31.— ^Z < 
 
 * A;2rure. 
 
 10.— ^I 
 11.— 10 
 12.— =^0 
 
 li 
 
 ii 
 
 A 
 
 Old. 
 Do. 
 
 32.— Na 
 33.— TH 
 
 
 13.— »0 
 
 u 
 
 Ox. 
 
 A-TONI( 
 
 3S. 
 
 14.— lU 
 
 (( 
 
 Use. 
 
 34.— F as 
 
 in i^it. 
 
 15.— ^U 
 
 a 
 
 ?7p. 
 
 35.— H ' 
 
 ' Bsit. 
 
 16.— »U 
 
 u 
 
 TuW. 
 
 36.— K * 
 
 ' ^id. 
 
 17.— 01 
 
 u 
 
 Oil 
 
 37.— P ' 
 
 ' Pit. 
 
 18.— OU 
 
 « 
 
 Out. 
 
 38.— S 
 39.— T 
 
 ' Sin. 
 * Top. 
 
 CONSONANT SOUNDS. 
 
 40.— CH 
 
 ' CAat. 
 
 SUB-TONICS. 
 
 
 41.— SH 
 
 ' /SAun. 
 
 19.— B 
 
 as in 
 
 Bait. 
 
 42.— TH ' 
 
 « ^Ain. 
 
 20.— D 
 
 n 
 
 Z)un. 
 
 43.— WHf 
 
 « FAen. 
 
 * Soft G is equivalent to J ; Soft C to S, and hard C and Q to K. X 
 is equivalent to K and S, as in box, or to G and Z, as in exalt. 
 
 f WH is pronounced as if the H preceded W, otherwise it would be 
 pronounced W-hen. R should be slightly trilled before a vowel. Fotf 
 further instructions, see Sanders and Merrill's Elementary and Elocu* 
 tiouary Chart 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 
 
 15 
 
 SUBSTITUTES FOR THE VOWEL ELEMENTS. 
 
 For liOng A. 
 
 For Flat A. 
 
 For Broad A. - 
 
 For Short A. 
 
 For Intermedi- J ea 
 ate A. \ e 
 
 For Long E. 
 
 For Short E. 
 
 For Long I. 
 
 n sail, 
 gawge. 
 lay. 
 great. 
 d«gn. 
 they. 
 
 daunt, 
 h^art. 
 gMard. 
 
 pawse. 
 
 lat^. 
 
 George. 
 
 groat. 
 
 horn. 
 
 sowght. 
 
 plaid, 
 guaranty. 
 
 hair, 
 bear, 
 where, 
 their. 
 
 "weak. 
 
 seize. 
 
 people. 
 
 key. 
 
 brief. 
 
 pique. 
 
 any. 
 
 said. 
 
 says. 
 
 dead. 
 
 heifer. 
 
 leopard. 
 
 friend. 
 
 guess. 
 
 bwry. 
 
 aisle. 
 
 sleight. 
 
 eye. 
 
 die. 
 
 choir. 
 
 guide. 
 
 buy. 
 
 try. 
 
 For Short I. - 
 
 For Long 0.   
 
 e as in English. 
 
 ee *' been. 
 
 " sieve. 
 
 ** women. 
 
 ** busy. 
 
 ** build. 
 
 " symbol. 
 
 " hautboy, 
 beau. 
 
 eo " yeoman. 
 
 ew *♦ set^. 
 
 oa " boat. 
 
 oe " hoe. 
 
 ou ** soul. 
 
 ow " flow. 
 
 
 
 u 
 
 ui 
 
 au 
 eau 
 
 For Long f 
 
 0. 1 
 
 Slender 
 
 For Short 
 
 {a " 
 ou " 
 ow ♦' 
 
 [eau ** 
 ! eu " 
 
 For Long U. ■{ 
 
 ew 
 ieu 
 
 lew 
 j ou 
 I Me 
 { ui 
 
 r« 
 
 For Short U. -! oe 
 \^ou 
 
 For Short 
 Slender 
 
 U. \ot 
 
 oy 
 
 shoe, 
 soup. 
 
 was. 
 
 hough. 
 
 knoz:;ledge. 
 
 beauty 
 
 feud. 
 
 detr. 
 
 adieu. 
 
 mew. 
 
 youv. 
 
 cue. 
 
 suit. 
 
 her. 
 
 sir. 
 
 does. 
 
 love. 
 
 young. 
 
 wolf, 
 would. 
 
 joy- 
 
 For the Diph- 
 thong 01. 
 
 For the Diph- 1 
 thong OU. i 
 
 There is no pure Triphthongal 
 sound in the language. Buoy is 
 equivalent to bwoy. U being a 
 •onoonant. 
 
16 
 
 SAWDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 SUBSTITUTES FOR THE CONSONANT ELEMENTS. 
 
 p (gh&s in l&ugh. 
 '\ph " sphere. 
 
 J. g " 
 
 ^em. 
 
 'c 
 ^ \ch " 
 ^■\gh - 
 
 U " 
 
 can. 
 chord, 
 hough, 
 quit. 
 
 S. c " 
 
 cent. 
 
 1;?A^A " 
 
 facet/. 
 phihiaic. 
 
 ^•{^* " 
 
 of. 
 Stephen 
 
 Y. t " 
 
 valiant. 
 
 
 f^ 
 
 
 suffice. 
 
 iZ. 
 
 s 
 
 
 wa*. 
 
 
 [x 
 
 
 Xerxea. 
 
 
 ' s 
 
 
 treasure. 
 
 ^z.. 
 
 z 
 
 
 azure. 
 
 si 
 
 
 fujseon. 
 
 
 zi 
 
 
 glazier. 
 
 NG. 
 
 n 
 
 
 cowch. 
 
 
 ' ce 
 
 
 ocfan. 
 
 
 ci 
 
 
 socz'al. 
 
 
 ch 
 
 
 cAaise. 
 
 SH.- 
 
 si 
 
 
 pension. 
 
 
 s 
 
 
 sure. 
 
 
 ss 
 
 
 issue. 
 
 
 ti 
 
 
 no^zbn. 
 
 CH. 
 
 ti 
 
 
 fus^mn. 
 
 B, D, G, H, L, M, N, P, and R, have no substitutes. 
 
 The most common faults in Articulation are 
 I. The suppression of a syllable ; as 
 
 cab'n 
 
 cap'n 
 
 barr'l 
 
 ev'ry 
 
 hist'ry 
 
 reg'lar 
 
 sev'ral 
 
 rhet'rio 
 
 for 
 
 u 
 u 
 u 
 u 
 <( 
 
 cab-m. 
 
 cap-torn. 
 
 bar-rd. 
 
 ev-e-ry. 
 
 liis-to-ry. 
 
 reg-2*-lar. 
 
 sev-er-al. 
 
 rhet-o-ric. 
 
 mem ry 
 
 jub'lee 
 
 trav'ler 
 
 fam'ly 
 
 ventilate 
 
 des'late 
 
 prob'ble 
 
 par-tic'lar 
 
 for 
 
 a 
 a 
 
 iC 
 
 u 
 a 
 n 
 
 mem-o-ry. 
 
 ju-b^-lee. 
 
 trav-el-er, 
 
 fam-i-Iy. 
 
 ven t^-late. 
 
 des-o-Iate. 
 
 prob-a-ble. 
 
 par-tic-i«-lar. 
 
 II. The 
 word; as, 
 
 read-in 
 
 swif-ly 
 
 com-mans 
 
 wam-er 
 
 um-ble 
 
 ap-py 
 
 con-sis 
 
 fa-t'l 
 
 omission of any sound properly belonging to a 
 
 for 
 
 u 
 
 a 
 n 
 a 
 II 
 a 
 
 read-in^. 
 
 swift-ly. 
 
 com-manc?s. 
 
 warm-er. 
 
 Aum-ble. 
 
 Aap-py. 
 
 con-sis^s. 
 
 fa-taL 
 
 pr'-tect 
 
 b'-low 
 
 p^r-vade 
 
 srink-in 
 
 th^if-ty 
 
 as-ter-is 
 
 fov-er-meut 
 'eb-u-ary 
 
 for 
 
 pro-tect. 
 
 be-low, 
 
 per-vade, 
 
 sArink-in^, 
 
 thrif-ty. 
 
 as-ter-is^. 
 
 gov-erw-ment. 
 
 Feb-ru-a-ry. 
 

 
 NUMBER 
 
 FOUR. 
 
 17 
 
 III. The 
 
 substitution of one sound for 
 
 another; as. 
 
 «f-ford 
 
 for 
 
 af-ford. 
 
 mod-ist 
 
 for mod-est. 
 
 wil-ler 
 
 (( 
 
 wil-lo2y. 
 
 i*p-prove 
 
 " ap-prove. 
 
 sock-it 
 
 ({ 
 
 sock-et. 
 
 W/'in-e-gar 
 
 " vin-e-gar. 
 
 fear-lwss 
 
 (( 
 
 fear-less. 
 
 sep-e-rate 
 
 '' sep-a-rate. 
 
 cul-tcr 
 
 ii 
 
 cult-wre. 
 
 tem-per-it 
 
 " tem-per-ate. 
 
 prod-ua; 
 
 cc 
 
 prod-uc/s. 
 
 croc-er-dile 
 
 " croc-o-dile. 
 
 judg-munt 
 
 n 
 
 judg-ment. 
 
 tzib-ac-Ci^r 
 
 " to-bac-co. 
 
 ehU-dnn 
 
 it 
 
 chil-dren. 
 
 com-prwm-ise " com-pro-mise 
 
 IV. Produce the sounds denoted hj the following com- 
 binations of consonants : — 
 
 Let the pupil first produce the sounds of the letters, and then 
 the word or words in which they occur. Be careful to give a 
 clear and distinct enunciation to every letter. 
 
 1. Bd, as in vob'd; hdst, -pvob'dst; bl, bhnd, a^ble; bid, hum' 
 
 bl'd; bldst, troubrdst; blst, tro\ibVst; biz, crumbles; br^ 
 6rand; bz, x'lbs. 
 
 2. Gh, as in church ; cht, fetched. 
 
 3. Dj, as in edge; djd, hedg'd ; dl, bri<^fe; did, riddl'd ; dlst, 
 
 hsLudl'st; dlz,hundles; dn,hiird'n; dr,droYe; dth,M<iidth; 
 dths, hresidths; dz, odds. 
 
 4. Fl, as in ^ame ; fld, r'lJVd ; flst, BixJVst ; jlz, r'xfles ; fr, /rom ; 
 
 fs, quaj^s, houghs; fst, laugh' st, quaff' st; ft, raft; fts, wafts; 
 ftst, graft' St. 
 
 6. Gd, as in hegg'd ; gdst, hra^gg'dsf ; gl, glide; gld, struggl'd; 
 
 gldst, ha^ggl'dst ; gist, stra-ugrst ; glz, mingles ; gr, groYe ; 
 gst, hegg'st; gz, ^gs. 
 
 G. Kl, as in uncle, a^nkle ; kid, tricJcrd; hldst, truckV dst; klst, 
 chucA:/'s^; klz, wrinkles; kn, blac^'w; knd, reck' n^d; 
 kndst, reck' n' dst ; knst, blac/i;'?i's^ ; knz, reck' 7is ; kr, crank ; 
 ks, checks; kt, act. 
 
 7. Lb, as in hulb ; Ibd, hulb'd; lbs, hulbs ; Ich, ^Ich; Iclit, 
 
 helch'd; Id, hold ; Idst, fold'st ; Idz, holds; If self; Ifs, 
 gulfs; Ij, bu^^e; Ik, elk; Iks, silks; Ikt, miWd; Ikts, 
 mulcts; Im, elm; Imd, whelm' d; Imz, fdms ; In, iall'n ; 
 B 
 
18 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Ip, help; Ips, scalps; Ipst, help'st; ?.<?, fa?se; 1st, cvJVsf; 
 It, melt; Ith, hesilth; Iths, stealths; Its, colts; Iv, de^re; 
 Ivd, shelved; Ivz, elves; Iz, \12dls. 
 
 8. Md, as in doowi'c?; mf, ir'vimph ; mp, hemp; mpt, tempt; 
 
 mpts, Sittempts; mst, entomb' st; mz, tombs. 
 
 9. Nch, as in hench; ncht, -pinch' d; nd, and; ndst, end'st; 
 
 ndz, ends; ng, smig ; ngd, hang'd; ngth, length; ngz, 
 songs; nj, range; njd,r3ing'd; nk,ink; nks, ranks; nkst, 
 thank' St; nstj winc'd; nt, sent ; nts, rents; ntst, went'st; 
 nz, runs. 
 
 10. PI, as in ^?ume; pld, r'vppl'd; plst, rippl'st; plz, apples; 
 7>r, prince; ps, sips; pst, rapp'st; pt, ripp'd. 
 
 11. Rb, as in lierZ>; rch, search; rcht, church' d; rbd, orb'd; 
 
 rbdst,harb'dst; rbst, disturb' st ; rbz, orbs ; rd,hard ; rdst, 
 heard' st; rdz, words ; rf, turf; rft, scarf d-y rg, hurg ; 
 rgz, hurgs ; rj, dir^e ; 7'Jd, urg'd; rk, ark; rks, arks; 
 rkst, work'st; rkt, dirk'd; rktst, emhark' dst ; rl, girl; 
 rid, world; rldst, hurld'st ; rlst, whirl' st ; rlz, hurls; rm,, 
 arm; rmd, arm'd; rmdst, harm' dst; rmst, arm'st; rmz, 
 charms; rn, turn; rnd, turn'd; rndst, earn' dst; mst, 
 learTi's^; rnz, urns; rp, carp; rps, harps; rpt,warp'd; 
 rs, Yerse} rsh, harsh; rst, &rst; rsts, hurs/s ; rt, dart; rth, 
 earth; rths, hirths; rts, mai-ts; rtst, dart'st; rv, curve; 
 rvd, nerv'd; rodst, euro' dst; rvst, swerv'st; rvz, nerves; 
 rz, errs. 
 
 12. Sh, as in ship; sht, hush'd; sk, scan, skip; s7cs, tusks; skst^ 
 frisk' st; skt, risk'd; si, slow; sld, nestl'd; slz, wrestles; 
 sm, smile; sn, snag; sp, sport; sps, lisps; spt, clasp' d; st, 
 stag; str, strike; sts, rests; sw, s«;ing. 
 
 13. Th, as in ^Mne, thin; thd, hreath'd; thr, three; thst, 
 hreath'st; thw, thwack; thz, writhes ; tl, title; tld, aettl'd ; 
 ildst, settl'dst; tlst, settVst; th, nettles; tr, ^runk; ts, fi/s; 
 tw, twirl. 
 
 14. Vd, as in curv'd; vdst, liv' dst ; vl, driv'l ; vld, grov'l'd ; 
 vldst, grov' I' dst; vlst, driv' Vst; vrij driv'n; vst, liy's^; 
 
 vz, lives. 
 
 15. Wh, as in when, where. 
 
 16. Zd, as in mus'd; zl, dazzle; zld, mnzzi'd; zldst, dazzl'dst; 
 zlst, dazzVst; zlz, muzzles; zm, spasm; zmz, chasms; zn^ 
 lis'n; znd, reas'n'd ; znz, pris'nz; zndst, impris'n'dst. 
 
K UMBER FOUR 
 
 19 
 
 V. Avoid blending the termination of one word with 
 the beginning of another, or suppressing the final letter 
 or letters of one word, when the next word commences 
 with a similar sound. 
 
 His small eyes 
 
 She keeps pies 
 
 His hour is up 
 
 Dry the widow's tears 
 
 Your eyes and ears 
 
 He had two small eggs 
 
 Bring some ice cream 
 
 Let all men praise Him 
 
 He was killed in war 
 
 Water, air, and earth 
 
 Come and see me once more 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 instead of His small lies. 
 She keeps spies. 
 His sour is sup. 
 Dry the widow steers. 
 Your rise sand dears. 
 He had two small legs. 
 Bring some mice scream. 
 Let tall men pray sim. 
 He was skilled in war. 
 Water rare rand dearth. 
 Come mand see me one smore. 
 
 ^OTE. — By an indistinct Articulation the sense of a passage 
 is often liable to be perverted. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Will he attempt to conceal hi* acts f 
 Will he attempt to conceal his sacks ? 
 
 2. The man hac? oars to row her over. 
 The man hac? door^ to row her rover. 
 
 8. Can there be an aim more lofty ? 
 Can there be a name more lofty ? 
 
 4. The judge* ought to arrest the culprits. 
 The judge* sought to arrest the culprits. 
 
 5. Hi* tre burned when she told him her age. 
 Hi* *ire burned when she told him her rage. 
 
 6. He wa* awed at the works of labor anc? art. 
 He wa* sawed at the works of labor an cfart. 
 
 7.. He wa* drained in the religion of his fathers. 
 He wa* sprained in the religion of his fathers. 
 
20 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. bravely o'er the boisterous iiWow*, 
 His ff&ll&nt ba,rk wa,s borne. 
 
 2. Can crskven co-w&rds expect to conquer the country ? 
 
 8. Click, click, goes the clock ; clack, clack, ffoes the mill. 
 
 4. Did you desire to hear his dark and doleful dreams f 
 
 5. " Firm-paced and slo-w, a horrid front they form^ 
 
 Still as the breeze ; but dreadful as the storm" 
 
 6. The flaming fire flashed fearfully in his face. 
 
 7. The glassy glaciers gleamed in globing Zigh<, 
 
 8. ^ow Aigh his honors heaved his haughty head! 
 
 9. He drevr long, legible lines along the lowely landscape. 
 
 10. Masses of immense magnitude move majestically through the vast 
 empire of the solar system. 
 
 11. Round the rough and rugged rocks the ragged rascal ran. 
 
 12. The stripling stranger strayed straight toward the struggling 
 stream. 
 
 13. ^Ae uttered a sharp, shrill shriek, and then shrunk from the shriveled 
 form that slumbered in the shroud. 
 
 14. For fear of o/ending the frightful fugitive, the vile vagabond 
 ventured to vilify the venerable veteran. 
 
 15. Amidst the mists, with angry boasts, 
 He thrusts his fists against the posts, 
 And still insists he sees the ghosts. 
 
 16. Peter Prangle, the prickly prangly pear picker, picked three 
 pecks of prickly prangly pears, from the prangly pear trees, on the 
 pleasant prairies. 
 
 17. Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, in sifting a sieve 
 full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles through the thick 
 of his thumb ; now, if Theophilus Thistle, the successful thistle sifter, 
 in sifting a sieve full of unsifted thistles, thrust three thousand thistles 
 through the thick of his thumb, see that thou, in sifting a sieve full 
 of unsifted thistles, thrust not three thousand thistles through the thick 
 of thy thumb. Success to the successful thistle sifter. 
 
 18. We travel sea and soil ; we pry, we prowl; 
 We progress, and we jtrog from pole to pole. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. £1 
 
 SECTION 11. 
 
 ACCENT AND EMPHASIS. 
 
 Accent and Emphasis both indicate some special stress 
 of voice. 
 
 Accent is that stress of voice by which one syllable of a word 
 is made more prominent than others; Emphasis is that stress 
 of voice by which one or more words of a sentence are distin- 
 guished above the rest. 
 
 ACCENT.   
 
 The accented syllable is sometimes designated thus : 
 (/); SiS, com-mand'-ment. 
 
 Note I. — Words of more than two syllables generally have 
 two or more of them accented. 
 
 The more forcible stress of voice, is called the Primary 
 Accent J and the less forcible, the Secondary Accent. 
 
 EXAMPLES OF PRIMARY AND SECONDARY ACCENT, 
 
 In the following examples the Primary Accent is designated 
 by double accentual marks, thus : 
 
 Ed^^-u-cate^, ed^-u-ca^^-tion, muV'-ti-ply\ muV-ti-pli-ca^^-tion^ sat'^-is- 
 fy^, sat^-is-fac^^-tion, com^-pre-hend^^, com'-pre-hen'^-sion, rec'-om-mend'% 
 Tec^-om-mend-a^^-tion, mo'^-ment-a^-ry, com-mu^ ^ -ni-cate^ , com^-pli-ment^^- 
 al, in-dem^-ni-fi-ca^^-tion, ex^-Um-po-ra^^-ne-ous, coun' -ter-rev^ -o-W ^ -tion- 
 a-ry. 
 
 Note II, — The change of accent on the same word often 
 changes its meaning. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 coF-league, a partner. col-league'', to unite with 
 
 con^-duct, behavior. con-duct^, to lead. 
 
 des^'-cant, a song, or tune. des-cant^, to comment. 
 
 ob^-ject, ultimate purpose. ob-ject'', to oppose. 
 
 in^-ter-dict, a prohibition. in-ter-dict^, to forbid. 
 
 o^-Tcr-throw, ruin; defeat. o-yer-throw'', to throw down. 
 
22 BAJVDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Note III. — Emphatic words are often printed in Italics. 
 When, however, different degrees of emphasis are to be denoted, 
 the higher degrees are designated by the use of Capitals, 
 LARGrEE. or smaller, according to the degree of intensity. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Our motto shall be, our country^ oub whole countet, and 
 NOTHING BUT OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 2. Thou Child of Joy I Shout round me : let me hear thy shouta^ 
 thou happy Shepherd Boy ! 
 
 3. Freedom calls you ! quick, be ready, 
 
 Think of what your sires have done ; 
 Onward, onward ! strong and steady, 
 
 Drive the tyrant to his den ; 
 On, and let the watchword be, 
 Country, HOME, and LIBERTY. 
 
 Note IV. — Emphasis, as before intimated, varies in degrees 
 of intensity, 
 
 examples of intensive emphasis. 
 
 1. He shook the fragment of his blade, 
 
 And shouted: "VICTORY!" 
 
 Charge, Chester, charge ! On, Stanley, on !'* 
 
 2. A month! 0, for a single week! I ask not for years' , though an 
 AOE were too little for the much I have to do. 
 
 3. Now for the fight ! now for the cannon peal ! 
 
 ONWARD ! through blood, and toil, and cloud, and fire I 
 Glorious — the shout, the shock, the crash of steel, 
 The volley's roll, the rocket's blazing spire I 
 
 4. Hear, Heavens ! and give ear, Earth I 
 
 Note V. — Emphasis sometimes changes the seat of accent 
 from its ordinary position. 
 
 examples. 
 
 There is a difference between ^o«^sibility and joroJ-'ability. 
 
 And behold, the angels of God a3''cending and rfe-'seending on it. 
 
 For this corruptible must put on m''corruption, and this mortal must 
 put on tm^mortality. 
 
 Does his conduct deserve op-'probation, or reja^robation ? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 23 
 
 Note YI. — There are two kinds of Emphasis : — Absolute 
 and Antithetic. Absolute Emphasis is used to designate the 
 important words of a sentence, without any direct reference to 
 other words. 
 
 EXAMPLES OF ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS. • 
 
 1. Oh, speak to passion's raging tide, 
 
 Speak and say: "peace, be still!" 
 
 2. The Union, it MUST and SHALL BE PRESERVED ! 
 
 8. Hush ! breathe it not aloud. 
 
 The wild winds must not hear it ! Yet, again, 
 I tell thee — we are free ! knowles. 
 
 4. When my country shall take her place among the nations of the 
 earth, then and not TILL then, let my epitaph be written, emmett. 
 
 5. If you are men, follow me ! Strike down yon guard, and gain the 
 mountain passes. 
 
 6. Oh ! shame on us, countrymen, sha»ie on us all, 
 
 If we cringe to so dastard a race. 
 
 7. This doctrine never was received ; it never can, by any POSSIBIL- 
 ITY, BE received ; and, if admitted at all, it must be by THE TOTA.L 
 SUBVERSION OF LIBERTY! 
 
 8. Are you Christians, and, by upholding duelists, will you deluge th« 
 land with blood, a,nd fill it with widows and orphans? beecher. 
 
 9. Liberty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 10. Treason ! cried the speaker ; treason, treason, TREASON, re- 
 echoed from every part of the house. 
 
 11. The war is inevitable, — and let it come ! I repeat it, Sir, — LET 
 IT COME I PATRICK henry. 
 
 12. Be we men. 
 And suffer such dishonor ? Men, and wash not 
 
 The stain away in blood ? miss mitford. 
 
 13. SACRED forms ! how proud you look ! 
 How high, you lift your heads into the sky ! 
 
 • How hiuje you are ! how mighty and how free! knowles 
 
 14. I shall know but one country. The ends / aim at, shall be " My 
 Country's, my God's, and Truth's." webstk*. 
 
24 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Note VII. — Antithetic Emphasis is that whicli is founded 
 on the contrast of one word or clause with another. 
 
 EXAMPLES OP ANTITHETIC EMPHASIS. 
 
 1. The faults of others should always remind us of our own. 
 
 2. He desired to protect his friend, not to injure him 
 S. But yesterday, the word of Caesar might 
 
 Have stood against the world; now lies he there, 
 
 And none so poor to do him reverence. shakspeare. 
 
 4. A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. bible, 
 
 5. We can do nothing against the truth ; but for the truth. bible. 
 
 6. He that is slow to anger, is better than the mighty ; and he that 
 ruleth his spirit, than he that taketh a city, bible. 
 
 Note YIII. — The following examples contain two or more 
 sets of Antitheses. 
 
 1. Just men are onlj free, the rest are slaves. 
 
 2. Beauty is like ih.Q flower of spring; virtue is like the start of heaven. 
 
 t. Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, 
 
 ' The eternal years of God are hers ; 
 But error, wounded, writhes in pain, 
 
 And dies amid her worshipers. brtant. 
 
 4. A false balance is abomination to the Lord; but a just weight is his 
 delight. bible. 
 
 5. A friend can not be known in prosperity ; and an enemy can not be 
 hidden in adversity. 
 
 6. It is my living sentiment, and, by the blessing of God, it shall be 
 my dying sentiment; independence now, and independence forevee. 
 
 WEBSTER. 
 
 7. We live deeds, not years, — in thoughts, not breaths^ — in feelings, not 
 in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most 
 lives, who thinks the most,-^feels the noblest, — acts the best. 
 
 8 You have done the mischief, and / bear the blame. 
 
 9. The wise man is happy when he gains his own approbation ; the 
 fool, when he gains that of others. 
 
 10. We must hold them as we hold the rest of mankind — enemies ia 
 war, — in peace, friend*. jeffersgn. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 25 
 
 Note IX. — The sense of a passage is varied by changing the 
 place of the emphasis 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Has Jamei seen his brother to-day ? No ; but Charles has. 
 
 2. Has James seen his brother to-day f No ; but he has heard from 
 Mm. 
 
 3. Has James seen his brother lo-day ? No ; but he saw yours. 
 
 4. Has James seen his brother to-day? No: but he has seen his 
 tister. 
 
 6. Has James seen his brother to-day 9 No ; but he saw him yes- 
 terday. 
 
 Bemark. — To determine the emphatic words of a sentence, 
 as well as the degree and kind of emphasis to be employed, the 
 reader must be governed wholly by the sentiment to be expressed. 
 The idea is sometimes entertained that emphasis consists merely 
 in loudness of tone. But it should be borne in mind, that the 
 most intense emphasis may often be effectively expressed, even 
 by a whisper. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 INFLECTIONS. 
 
 ^Inflections are turns or slides of the voice, made 
 in reading or speaking; as, Will you go to New 
 
 f^i 
 
 ^. 
 
 Ojt 
 
 ^ or to ^.^ 
 
 All the various sounds of the human voice may be compre- 
 hended under the general appellation of tones. The principal 
 modifications of these tones are the Monotone, the Rising 
 Injlection, the Falling iNrLECxiON, and th« Circumi'lex. 
 4U 2 
 
25 SAlSfDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 The Horizontal Line ( — ) denotes the Monotone. 
 The Kising Slide ( ^) denotes the Rising Inflection. 
 The Falling Slide ( \ ) denotes the Falling Inflection. 
 The Curve (^-^) denotes the Circumflex. 
 
 The Monotone is that sameness of sound, "v^hich arises 
 from repeating the several words or syllables of a passage 
 in one and the same general tone. 
 
 Remark. — The Monotone is employed with admirable effect 
 in the delivery of a passage that is solemn or sublime. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers: 
 irhence are thy beams, sun, thy everlasting light ? ossian. 
 
 2. 'Tis midnight's holy hour, and silence now 
 Is brooding, like a gentle spirit, o'er 
 
 The still and pulseless world. Hark ! on the winds 
 
 The bells' deep tones are swelling; 'tis the knell 
 
 Of the departed year. prentice. 
 
 3. God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount PiSran. 
 Selah. His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of Hia 
 praise. 
 
 4. Before Him went the pestilence, and burning coals went forth at 
 His feet. He stood and measured the earth: He beheld, and drove 
 asiinder the nations ; and the everlasting mountains were scattered, the 
 perpetual hills did bow : His ways are everlasting. bible. 
 
 5. The heavens declare the glory of God, and the iirmament showeth 
 His handy work. Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night 
 showeth knowledge. There is no speech nor language, where their 
 Toice is not heard. id. 
 
 6. How brief is life ! how passing brief I 
 
 How brief its joys and cares ! 
 It seems to be in league with time, 
 And leaves iis unawares. 
 
 7. The thunder rolls : be hushed the prostrate world, 
 
 While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. Thomson. 
 
WUMBER FOUR. 
 
 2T 
 
 Remark. — The inappropriate use of the monotone, — a fault 
 into which young people naturally fall, — is a very grave and 
 obstinate error. It is always tedious, and often even ridiculous. 
 It should be studiously avoided. 
 
 The Rising Inflection is an upward turn, or slide 
 of the voice, used in reading or speaking ; as, Are you 
 
 .^Q' 
 
 prepared to recite your ^ 
 
 The Falling Inflection is a downward turn, or slide 
 of the voice, used in reading or speaking ; as. What are 
 
 ^^ 
 
 you 
 
 V 
 
 In the falling inflection, the voice should not sink below the 
 general pitch; but in the rising inflection, it is raised above it. 
 
 The two inflections may be illustrated by the following 
 diagrams : 
 
 1. Did he act "^V^ 
 
 2. Did they go 
 
 vA,! 
 
 He acted 
 
 ^% 
 
 v*%... 
 
 They went 
 
 't^y. 
 
 iS\ 
 
 A«fc" 
 
 8. If the flight of Dry den is ^y^ Pope continues longer on the 
 
 %, 
 
 N: If the blaze of Dry den's fire js V " 
 
 iS^^t> 
 
 the heat of Pope's ia 
 
 more regular and 
 
28 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 4. [8 honor's lofty soul forever fled^ ? 
 
 Is virtue lost'' ? Is martial ardor dead'' ? : 
 
 Is there no heart where worth and valor dwell^ ? 
 No patriot Wallace^ ? No undaunted Tell'' ? 
 Ye8\ Freedom, yes^ ! thy sons, a noble band, 
 Around thy banner, firm, exulting stand\ 
 
 Bemark. — The same degree of inflection is not, at all times, 
 used, or indicated by the notation. The due degree to be 
 •employed, depends on the nature of what is to be expressed. 
 Por example j if a person, under great excitement, asks another: 
 
 Are you in ^ the degree of inflection 'would be much 
 
 greater, than if he playfully asks : Are you in ^"^ The 
 
 former inflection may be called intensive, the latter, common. 
 
 RULES FOR THE USE OF INFLECTIONS. 
 
 RULE I. 
 
 Direct questions, or those which may be answered by 
 l/es or no, usually take the rising inflection; but their 
 answers, generally, the falling. 
 
 , EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Will you meet me at the depot^ ? Yes^ ; or, I wiir. 
 
 2. Did you intend to visit Boston^ ? No^ ; or, I did not\ * 
 
 5. Can you explain this difficult sentence'' ? Yes^ ; I can. 
 4. Are they Trilling to remain at home'' ? They are^. 
 
 6. Is this a time for imbecility and inaction-' ? By no means\ 
 
 6. King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets'' ? I know that thou 
 t)elievesO. 
 
 7. Were the tribes of this country, when first discovered, making any 
 progress in arts and civilization^ ? By no means^ 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 29 
 
 8. To purchase heaven has gold the power^ ? 
 Can gold remove the mortal hour'' ? 
 
 In life, can love be bought with gold^ ? 
 Are friendship's pleasures to be sold'' ? 
 No^ ; all that's worth a wish, a thought, 
 Fair virtue gives unbribed, unbought. 
 
 9, What -would content you^? Talents^? No\ Enterprise^? No\ 
 Courage'? No\ Reputation'? No\ Virtue'? No\ The man 
 whom you would select, should possess not one, but all of these\ 
 
 Note I. — ^When tlie direct question becomes an appeal, and 
 the reply to it is anticipated, it takes the intense falling 
 inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. li" he not a bold and eloquent speaker^ ? 
 
 2. Caii" such inconsistent measures be adopted^ ? 
 8. Did^ you ever hear of such cruel barbarities^ ? 
 4. Is this reason^ ? Is it law^ ? Is it humanity^ ? 
 6. Was" not the gentleman's argument conclusive^ ? 
 
 RULE II. 
 
 Indirect questions, or those which can not be answered 
 by yes or no, usually take i\iQ falling inflection, and their 
 answers the same. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. How far did you travel yesterday^ ? Forty milesV 
 
 2. "Which of you brought this beautiful bouquet^ ? Julia\ 
 
 3. Where do you intend to spend the summer^ ? At Saratoga^. 
 
 4. When will Charles graduate at college^ ? Next year^. 
 
 5. What is one of the most delightful emotions of the heart^T 
 Gratitude^ 
 
 Note I. — ^When the indirect question is one asking a repe- 
 tition of what was not, at first, understood, it takes the rising 
 inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. When do you expect to return ? Next week. 
 When did you say' ? Next week. 
 
 2. Where did you say William had gone' ? To New York. 
 
80 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Note II. — Answers to questions, whether direct or indirecr, 
 when expressive of indifference, take the rising inflection, or 
 the circumflex. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Did you admire his discourse ? Not much^. 
 
 2. Which way shall we walk ? I am not particular-'. 
 
 3. Can Henry go with us ? If he chooses^. 
 
 4. What color do you prefer ? I have no particular choice''. 
 
 Note III. — In some instances, direct questions become in- 
 direct by a change of the inflection from the rising to the 
 falling. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Will you come to-morrow^ or next day' ? Yes. 
 
 2. Will you come to-morrow/ or next day^ ? I will come to-morrow. 
 
 Remark. — The first question asks if the person addressed 
 will come within the two days, and may be answered by yes or 
 no ; but the second asks on which of the two days he will come, 
 and it can not be thus answered. 
 
 RULE III. 
 
 When questions are connected by the conjunction or, 
 the first requires the rising^ and the second, the falling 
 inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Does he study for amusement^, or improvement^ ? 
 
 2. Was he esteemed for his wealth'', or for his wisdom^ ? 
 
 3. Sink'' or swim^, live^ or dic^, survive^ or perish^ I give my hand 
 and heart to this vote. webster. 
 
 4. Is it lawftil to do good on the Sabbath-days^, or to do evif ? to 
 save life^, or to kiir ? biblb? 
 
 5. Was it an act of moral courage'', or cowardice^ for Cato to fall on 
 his sword^ ?. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. g^ 
 
 KULE IV. 
 
 Antithetic terms or clauses usually take opposite in- 
 fections ; generally, the former has the rising ^ and the 
 latter the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. If you seek to make one rich, study not to increase his stores^; 
 but to diminish his desires^ 
 
 2. They have mouths^,— but they speak not^ : 
 Eyes have they'', — ^but they see not^ : 
 They have ears', — but they hear not^r 
 looses have they', — but they smell not^ : 
 They have hands',— but they handle noOr 
 
 Feet have they', — ^but they walk not\ biblb. 
 
 Note I. — ^When one of the antithetic clauses is a negative^ 
 and the other an affirmative^ generally the negative has the 
 rising, and the affirmative the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. I said an elder soldier\ not a better'. 
 
 2. His acts deserve punishment^ rather than commiseration^ 
 
 S. This is no time for a tribunal of justice', but for showing mercy^; 
 not for accusation', but for philanthropy'' ; not for trial', but for pardon'' ; 
 not for sentence and execution', but for compassion and kindness\ 
 
 RULE V. 
 
 The Pause of Suspension, denoting that the sense is 
 incomplete, usually has the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Although the fig-tree shall not blossom', neither shall fruit be in 
 the vine' ; the labor of the olive shall fail', and the fields shall yield no 
 meat' ; the flocks shall be cut off from the fold', and there shall be no 
 herd in the stalls' ; yet will I rejoice in the Lord\ I will joy in the 
 God of my salvation^ siblb. 
 
32 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Note I. — The ordinary direct address, not accompanied with 
 strong emphasisj takes the rising inflection, on the principle of 
 the pause of suspension. 
 
 SXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Men'', brethren'', and fathers-', hear ye my defense which I mak* 
 now unto you. biblb. 
 
 2. Ye living flowers'', that skirt the eternal frost'' ! 
 Ye wild goats'', sporting round the eagle's nest^l 
 Ye eagles'', playmates of the mountain storm-' I 
 Ye lightnings'', the dread arrows of the clouds'' ! 
 Ye signs^ and wonders'' of the elements-' ! 
 
 Utter forth God\ and fill the hills with praise^ I coLEBiDav 
 
 Note II. — In some instances of a pause of suspension, the 
 sense requires an intense falling inflection. 
 
 SXAUPLS. 
 
 1. The prodigal, if he dpes not become a paup&r^f will, at least, have 
 but little to bestow on others. 
 
 Kemark. — If the rising inflection is given on pauper^ the 
 sense would be perverted, and the passage made to mean, that, 
 in order to be abje to bestow on others, it is necessary that he 
 should become a pauper. 
 
 RULE VI. 
 
 Expressions of tenderness, as of grief, or kindness, 
 commonly incline the voice to the rising inflection, 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Mother'', — I leave thy dwelling^ ; 
 
 Oh ! shall it be forever'' ? 
 With grief my heart is swelling-'. 
 From thee-', — ^from thee^, — to sever''. 
 
 2. my son Absalom' ! my son', my son Absalom' ! Would God I 
 had died for thee', Absalom', my son', my son' ! biblb. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 33 
 
 RULE VII. 
 
 The Penultimate Pause, or the last but one, of a 
 passage, is usually preceded by the rising inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Diligence\ industry^ and proper improvement of time^, are mate- 
 rial duties of the young.^ 
 
 2. These through faith subdued kingdom8\ wrought righteousness^ 
 obtained promise8\ stopped the mouths of lions\ quenched the violence 
 of fire\ escaped the edge of the sword\ out of weakness were made 
 strong\ waxed valiant in fight'', turned to flight the armies of the 
 aliens\ 
 
 Remark. — The rising inflection is employed at the penulti- 
 mate pause in order to promote variety, since the voice generally 
 falls at the end of a sentence. 
 
 RULE VIII. 
 
 Expressions of strong emotion, as of anger or surprise, 
 and also the language of authority and reproach, are 
 expressed with the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. On TOu\ and on your children\ be the peril of the innocent 
 blood which shall be shed this day\ 
 
 2. What a piece of workmanship is man^ ! How noble in reason^ ! 
 How infinite in facueties^ ! 
 
 3. FOOLS^ ! and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets havo 
 written concerning me^ ! bible. 
 
 4. Hence\ home\ you idle creatures^^ get you home^, 
 
 You BLOCKS\ YOU STONES\ YOU WORSE THAN USELESS THINGSM 
 
 5. Avaunt^ ! and quit my sight^ ! let the earth hide thee^ ! Thy bones 
 are marrowless^ ; thou hast no speculation in thine eyes which thou dost 
 glare^ with. shakspeare. 
 
 6. Slave, do thy office^ ! Strike\ as I struck the foe^ ! 
 Strike\ as I would have struck the tyrants^ ! 
 
 Strike deep as my eiirse^ ! Sirike\ and but once^ ! id. 
 
 4 U 2* 
 
34 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 RULE IX. 
 
 An emphatic succession of particulars, and emphatic 
 repetition, require the falling inflection. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Bewari" what earth calls happiness ; beware^ 
 All joys but joys that never can expire\ 
 
 2. A great mind\ a great heart\ a great orator^, a great career , 
 have been consigned to history\ butler. 
 
 Remark. — The stress of voice on each successive particu- 
 lar, or repetition, should gradually be increased as the subject 
 advances. 
 
 The Circumflex is a union of the two inflections on 
 the same word, beginning either with the falling and 
 ending with the risingy or with the rising and ending 
 
 with the falling; as, If he goes to '^ ^^"^ I shall go to 
 
 The circumflex is mainly employed in the language of 
 irony, and in expressing ideas implying some condition, 
 either expressed or understood. 
 
 examples. 
 
 1. You, a beardless youth, pretend to teach a British general. 
 
 2. What! shear a wolf ? a prowling wolf ? 
 
 8. My father's trade ? ah, really, that's too bad ? 
 
 My father's trade ? Why, blockhead, are you mad ? 
 My father, sir, did never stoop so low, — 
 He was a gentleman, I'd have you know. 
 
 4. What ! confer a crown on the author of the public calamities ? 
 
 5. But you are very wise men, and deeply learned in the truth ; we 
 are weak, contemptible, mean persons. 
 
 6. They pretend they come to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, 
 and free us from error, 
 
 7. But yoiith, it seems, is not my only crime ; I have been accused 
 of acting a theatrical part. 
 
 8. And this man has become a gSd, and Cassias a wretched creature. 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 
 
 85 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 MODULATION. 
 
 Modulation implies those variations of the voice^ 
 heard in reading or speaking, which are prompted by 
 the feelings and emotions that the subject inspires. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 Full 
 Tone. 
 Middle 
 Tone. 
 
 EXPRESSIVE OP COURAGE AND CHIVALROUS EXCITBKENT. 
 
 f Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once mor*f 
 \ Or close the wall up with our English dead ! 
 f In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man. 
 
 Shoet 
 
 AND 
 
 Quick. 
 High 
 
 AND 
 
 Loud. 
 Quick, 
 
 AND 
 VERT 
 
 Loud. 
 
 As modest stillness and humility ; 
 But when the blast of war blows in our ears, 
 Then imitate the action of the tiger ; 
 Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
 Disguise fair nature with hard-favored rage. 
 
 ' On, ON, you noblest English, 
 Whose blood is fetched from fathers of war-proof I 
 Fathers^ that, like so many Alexanders, 
 Have, in these parts, from morn till even fought. 
 And sheathed their swords for lack of argument, 
 
 ' I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, 
 Straining upon the start. The game's afoot ; 
 Follow your spirits, and, upon this charge, 
 Cry — Heaven foe Harry! England! and St. George! 
 
 shakspeabh. 
 
 Remark. — To read the foregoing example in one dull, mo- 
 notonous tone of voice, without regard to the sentiment ex- 
 pressed, would render the passage extremely insipid and life- 
 less. But by a proper modulation of the voice, it infuses into 
 the mind of the reader or hearer the most animating and 
 exciting emotions. 
 
 The voice is modulated in three different ways. First, it is 
 varied in Pitch; that is, from high to low tones, and the 
 reverse. Secondly^ it is varied in Quantity, or in loudness or 
 volume of sound. Thirdly ^ it is varied in Quality, or in the 
 kind of sound expressed. 
 
36 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 PITCH OF VOICE. 
 
 Pitch op Voice has reference to its degree of ele- 
 vation. 
 
 Every person, in reading or speaking, assumes a certain 
 pitch, which may be either high or low^ according to circum- 
 stances, and which has a governing influence on the variations 
 of the voice, above and below it. This degree of elevation is 
 usually called the Key Note. 
 
 As an exercise in varying the voice in pitch, the practice of 
 tittering a sentence on the several degrees of elevation, as 
 represented in the following scale, will be found beneficiaL 
 First, utter the musical syllables, then the vowel sound, and 
 lastly, the proposed sentence, — ascending and descending. 
 
 8. — do — — e-in-me. — Virtue alone survirea. 
 
 7. si i in die. Virtue alone survives. 
 -6. — ^la — — o-in-do. — Virtue alone survives.^- — 
 
 5. sol in no. Virtue alone survives 
 -4. — fa — — a-in-at. — Virtue alone survives. — 
 
 3. mi ^ a in ate. Virtue alone survives. 
 
 -o-in-far. — Virtue alone survives.   
 
 a in oil. Virtue alone survives. 
 
 Although the voice is capable of as many variations in 
 speaking, as are marked on the musical scale, yet for all the 
 purposes of ordinary elocution, it will be sufficiently exact if we 
 make but three degrees of variation, viz., the Low^ the Middle, 
 and the High. 
 
 1. The Low Pitch is that which falls below the usual 
 speaking key, and is employed in expressing emotions of 
 sublimity J awe, and reverence. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Silence, how dead ! darkness, how profound ! 
 
 Nor eye, nor list'ning ear, an object finds ; 
 
 Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse 
 
 Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause, — 
 
 4:11 awful pause ! prophetic of her end. young. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. g7 
 
 2. The Middle Pitch is that usually employed in common 
 conversation, and in expressing unimpassioned thought and 
 moderate emotion. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. It -was early in a summer morning, when the air was cool, the 
 earth moist, the whole face of the creation fresh and gay, that I lately 
 walked in a beautiful flower garden, and, at once, regaled the senses 
 and indulged the fancy. hebvet. 
 
 2. "/Zoue to live" said a prattling boy, 
 
 As he gayly played with his new-bought toy, 
 And a merry laugh went echoing forth, 
 From a bosom filled with joyous mirth. 
 
 3. The High Pitch is thai; which rises above the usual 
 speaking key, and is used in expressing joyous and elevated 
 feelings. 
 
 , example. 
 
 'iligher, higher, ever higher, — 
 Let the watchword be "Aspire I" 
 
 Noble Christian youth ; 
 Whatsoe'er be God's behest, 
 Try to do that duty best, 
 
 In the strength of Truth. if. r. tuppek. 
 
 QUANTITY. 
 
 Quantity is two-fold ; — consisting in fullness or 
 VOLUME of sound, as soft or loud ; and in time, as slow 
 or quick. The former has reference to stress; the 
 latter, to movement. 
 
 The degrees of variation in quantity are numerous, varying 
 from a slight, soft whisper to a vehement shout. But for all 
 practical purposes, they may be considered as three, the same 
 as in pitch ; — the soft, the middle, and the loud. 
 
 For exercise in quantity, let the pupil read any sentence, as, 
 
 "Beauty is a fading flower," 
 
88 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 first in a slight, soft tone, and then repeat it, gradually in- 
 creasing in quantity to the full extent of the voice. Also, let 
 him read it first very slowly, and then repeat it gradually 
 increasing the movement. In doing this, he should be careful 
 not to vary the pitch. 
 
 In like manner, let him repeat any vowel sound, or all of 
 them, and also inversely. Thus : 
 
 000000 OOO 
 OOOOOOOOOoo 
 
 Remark. — Quantity is often mistaken for Pitch. But it 
 should be borne in mind that quantity has reference to loudness 
 or volume of sound, and pitch to the elevation or depression of a 
 tone. The difference may be distinguished by the slight and 
 heavy strokes on a bell : — both of which produce sounds alike 
 in pitch ; but they differ in quantity or loudness^ in proportion 
 as the strokes are light or heavy. 
 
 RULES FOR QUANTITY. 
 
 1. Soft, or Subdued Tones, are those which range from a 
 whisper to a complete vocality, and are used to express fear^ 
 caution J secrecy^ solemnity^ and all tender emotions. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. We watched her breathing through the night, 
 
 Her breathing soft and low, 
 As in her breast the wave of life 
 
 Kept heaving to and fro. hood. 
 
 2. Softly, peacefully, 
 
 Lay her to rest ; 
 Place the turf lightly, 
 
 On her young breast. d. e. goodman. 
 
 8. The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, 
 
 And sighed for pity as it answered, — " No." 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 39 
 
 2. A Middle Tone, or medium loudness of voice, is em- 
 ployed in reading narrative^ descriptive^ or didactic sentences. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 I lore my country's pine-clad hills, 
 Her thousand bright and gushing rills, 
 
 Her sunshine and her storms ; 
 Her rough and rugged rocks that rear ^ 
 
 Their hoary heads high in the air, 
 
 In wild fantastic forms. 
 
 3. A Loud Tone, or fullness and stress of voice is used in 
 expressing violent passions and vehement emotions. 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. Stand ! the ground^ s your ovm, my braves, — 
 Will ye give it up to ilaves ? 
 
 "Will ye look for greener graves f 
 
 Hope ye mercy still ? • 
 
 What's the mercy despots feel? 
 . Hear it in that battle-peal, — 
 Bead it on yon bristling steel, — . 
 
 Ask it — ge who will I piebpont. 
 
 2. ** Hold !" Tyranny cries ; but their resolute breath 
 Sends back the reply : *' Independence or death !" 
 
 QUALITY. 
 
 Quality has reference to the kind of sound uttered. 
 
 Two sounds may be alike in quantity and pitch, yet diflfer in 
 quality. The sounds produced on the clarinet and flute, may 
 agree in pitch and quantity, yet be unlike in quality. The 
 same is true in regard to the tones of the voice of two indi- 
 viduals. This difference is occasioned mainly by the different 
 positions of the vocal organs. 
 
 The qualities of voice mostly used in reading or speaking, 
 and which should receive the highest degree of culture, are the 
 Pure Tone, the Orotund, the Aspirated, and the Guttural. 
 
40 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 RULES FOR QUALITY. 
 
 1. The Pure Tone is a clear, smooth, sonorous flow of 
 sound, usually accompanied with the middle pitch of voice, 
 and is adapted to express emotions oijoy^ cheerfulness^ love, and 
 tranquillity. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Hail ! beauteous stranger of the wood, 
 
 Attendant on the spring, 
 Now heaven repairs thy vernal seat, 
 
 And woods thy welcome sing. 
 
 2. The Orotund is a full, deep, round, and pure tone of 
 voice, peculiarly adapted in expressing sublime and pathetic 
 emotions. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 It thunders ! Sons of dust, in reverence bow ! 
 Ancient of Days ! Thou speakest from above : 
 Almighty ! trembling, like a timid child, 
 I hear thy awful voice. Alarmed — afraid — 
 I see the flashes of thy lightning wild, 
 And in the very grave would hide my head. 
 
 3. The Aspirated Tone of voice is not a pure, vocal sound, 
 but rather a forcible breathing utterance, and is used to express 
 
 • amazement, fear, terror, anger, revenge, remorse, and fervent 
 emotions. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Oh, coward conscience, how dost thou aflFright me I 
 The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight ; 
 Cold, fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 
 4. The Guttural Quality is a deep, aspirated tone of^ 
 voice, used to express aversion, hatred^ loathing, and contempt. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 Tell me I hate the bowl ? " 
 
 Hate is a feeble word : 
 I loathe^ ABHOR, my very soul 
 
 With strong disgust is stirred, 
 Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell, 
 Of the dark beverage of hell. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 41 
 
 NOTATION IN MODULATION. 
 
 ( « ) high. ( p. ) soft. 
 
 (° °) high and loud. {pp.) very soft. 
 
 (o)low. (/)loud. 
 
 (o o) low and loud. (/. ) very loud. 
 
 (=) quick. (p^-) plaintive. 
 
 ( " ) short and quick. ( O increase. 
 
 (s^.) slow. (^) decrease. 
 
 EXAMPLES FOR EXERCISB IN MODULATIOlT. 
 
 {p.) Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, 
 
 And the smooth stream in smoother numbers flows ; 
 
 (/.) But when loud surges lash the sounding shore. 
 
 The hoarse rough verse should like the torrent roar. 
 
 {si.) When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, 
 The line, too, labors, and the words move slow ; 
 
 (— -) Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, 
 
 Flies o'er the unbending corn, and skims along the main, popm 
 
 ( -L) Go ring the bells and fire the guns. 
 
 And fling the starry banner out ; 
 {ff.) Shout •* Feeedom" till your lisping ones 
 
 Give back the cradle shout. whittibiu 
 
 {pi.) "And now, farewell ! *Tis hard to give thee up, 
 
 With death so like a gentle slumber on thee ! — 
 And thy dark sin ! — oh ! I could drink the cup. 
 If from this woe its bitterness had won thee. 
 May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home, 
 
 " My lost boy, Absalom I" wiLUg. 
 
 {si.) The sun hath set in folded clouds, — 
 
 Its twilight rays are gone, 
 (q) And, gathered in the shades of night. 
 
 The storm is rolling on. 
 {pi.) Alas ! how ill that bursting storm 
 
 ('^) The fainting spirit braves, 
 
 {p. ) When they, — the lovely and the lost, — 
 
 {pi.) Are gone to early graves ! 
 
4g SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 (°) On I onward still ! o'er the land he sweeps, 
 
 (<[) ^^^^ wreck, and ruin, and rush, and roar, 
 
 Nor stops to look back 
 
 On his dreary track, 
 (''^) But speeds to the spoils before. miss j. h. lewis. 
 
 From every battle-field of the revolution— from Lexington and Bunker 
 Hill — from Saratoga and Yorktown — from the fields of Eutaw — from the 
 cane-brakes that sheltered the men of Marion — the repeated, long- 
 prolonged echoes came up — (/.) " The Union : it must be preserved." 
 (<[) From every valley in our land — from every cabin, on the pleasant 
 mountain sides — from the ships at our wharves — from the tents of the 
 hunter in our westernmost prairies — from the living minds of the living 
 millions of American freemen — from the thickly coming glories of futu- 
 rity — the shout went up, like the sound of many waters, {ff.) **THE 
 UNION: IT MUST BE PRESERVED." Bancroft. 
 
 (;>.) Hark! 
 
 {9I.) Along the vales and mountains of the earth 
 (o) There is a deep, portentous murmuring, 
 
 (=) Like the swift rush of subterranean streams. 
 
 Or like the mingled sounds of earth and air. 
 
 When the fierce tempest, with sonorous wing. 
 
 Heaves his deep folds upon the rushing winds, 
 (<^^ And hurries onward, with his night of clouds. 
 
 Against the eternal mountains. 'Tis the voice 
 
 Of infant Freedom, — and her stirring call 
 
 Is heard and answered in a thousand tones 
 (<^) From every hill-top of her western home ; 
 
 And lo ! it breaks across old Ocean's flood, — 
 (°°) And "Freedom! Freedom!" is the answering shout 
 
 Of nations, starting from the spell of years, o. d. pbentioi. 
 
 C^'S The thunders hushed, — 
 
 The trembling lightning fled away in fear,— 
 
 (j3.) The foam-capt surges sunk to quiet rest, — 
 
 The raging winds grew still, — 
 
 (js»j3.) There was a calm. 
 
 (**/**/) "Quick! Man the boat!" (=:) Away they spring 
 
 The stranger ship to aid, 
 (/.) And loud their haling voices ring. 
 
 As rapid speed they made. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 43 
 
 {p.) Hush! lightly tread! still tranquilly she ^eeps; 
 
 I've watched, suspending e'en my breath, in fear 
 To break the heavenly spell, {pp-} Move silently. 
 
 Can it be ? 
 Matter immortal ? and shall spirit die ? 
 Above the nobler, shall less nobler rise ? 
 (<^) Shall man alone, for whom all else revives, 
 
 No resurrection know ? (°<C) Shall man alone, 
 
 Imperial man ! be sown in barren ground, 
 
 Less privileged than grain, on which he feeds ? youwo. 
 
 (=) Away ! away to the mountain's brow. 
 
 Where the trees are gently waving ; 
 
 (^) Away ! away to the vale below, 
 
 Where the streams are gently laving. 
 
 An hour passed on ; — the Turk awoke ; — 
 
 That bright dream was his last ; — 
 He woke — to hear his sentry's shriek, 
 (<'<*) '<To ARMS ! they come! (ff.) the Greek! the Gbexk!" 
 
 {pi.) He woke — to die, midst flame and smoke, 
 And shout, and groan, and saber-stroke, 
 And death-shots falling thick and fast 
 As lightnings from the mountain cloud ; 
 And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 
 Bozzaris cheer his band ; — 
 (°^) " Strike — till the last armed foe expires ! 
 
 Strike — for your altars and your fires I 
 Strike — for the green graves of your sires I 
 God, and your native land !" halleck. 
 
 He said, and on the rampart hights arrayed 
 His trusty warriors, few, but undismayed ; 
 [si.) Firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, 
 
 {pp.) Still as the breeze, (qq) but dreadful as the storm! 
 
 {Pq.) Low, murmuring sounds along their banners fly, 
 
 (jf.) Revenge, or death ! — the watchword and reply ; 
 
 (°°) Then pealed the notes, omnipotent to charm, 
 
 (/.) And the loud tocsin tolled their last alarm ! cahpbell. 
 
 0*'\ His speech was at first low-toned and slow. Sometimes his 
 ▼oice would deepen, (q^) like the sound of distant thunder; and anon, 
 (''') his flashes of wit and enthusiasm would light up the anxious faces 
 of his hearers, (<1) like the far-off lightning of a coming storm. 
 
44 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 (^) Receding now, the dying numbers ring 
 
 (p.) Fainter and fainter, down the rugged dell: 
 
 (jPP') -And now — 'tis silent all — enchantress, fare thee well. 
 
 (=) Oh, joy to the world ! the hour is come, 
 
 "When the nations to freedom awake, 
 When the royalists stand agape and dumb, 
 
 And monarchs with terror shake I 
 Over the walls of majesty, 
 
 ^* Upharsin" is writ in words of fire. 
 And the eyes of the bondmen, wherever they be, 
 Are lit with their wild desire. 
 (<^) Soon, soon shall the thrones that blot the world, 
 
 Like the Orleans, into the dust be hurl'd, 
 And the world roll on, like a hurricane's breath, 
 Till the farthest nation hears what it saith, — 
 if-) ''ARISE! ARISE! BE FREE r» t. b. biad 
 
 (^•) Tread softly— bow the head,— 
 
 In reverent silence bow, — 
 No passing bell doth toll, — 
 (pi.) Yet an immortal soul 
 
 Is passing now. mrs. southet. 
 
 ( °) Speak out, my friends ; would you exchange it for the demon's 
 DBiNK, (ff.) ALCOHOL? A shout, like the roar of a tempest, an- 
 swered, (°o) NO! 
 
 (^^) The combat deepens ! (/*.) On! te brave! 
 
 (=) Who rush to glory, (p.) or the grave ! 
 
 (#.) Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ! 
 
 And CHARGE with all thy Chivalry ! 
 (pi.) Ah! few shall part where many meet I 
 
 The snow shall be their winding sheet, 
 
 And every turf beneath their feet 
 (^•) Shall be a soldier's sepulcher I Campbell. 
 
 (si.) At length, o'er Columbus slow consciousness breaks, 
 
 (00) »»Land! land!" cry the sailors; (/.) "land! land!"— he 
 
 awakes^ — 
 (^^) He runs, — ^yes ! behold it I it blesseth his sight \ 
 The land I 0, dear spectacle ! transport I delight ! 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 45 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 THE RHETORICAL PAUSE. 
 
 Rhetorical Pauses are those which are frequently 
 required by the voice in reading and speaking, although 
 the construction of the passage admits of no grammatical 
 pause. 
 
 These pauses are as manifest to the ear, as those which are 
 made by the comma, semicolon, or other grammatical pauses, 
 though not commonly denoted in like manner by any visible 
 sign In the following examples they are denoted thus, ( \\ ). 
 
 EXAMPLES, 
 
 1. In slumbers of midnight II the sailor-boy lay, 
 
 His hammock swung loose || at the sport of the wind ; 
 But watch-worn and weary, |j his cares flew away, 
 And visions of happiness 1| danced o'er his mind. dimosd. 
 
 2. There is a land,]] of every land the pride. 
 Beloved of heaven || o'er all the world beside ; 
 Where brighter suns || dispense serener light, 
 And milder moons || imparaidise the night, 
 
 0, thou shalt find,|| howe'er thy footsteps roam. 
 
 That land thy country, || and that spot thy home f , > 
 
 Tbis pause is generally made before or after the utterance 
 of some important word or clause, on which it is especially 
 d<Miired to fix the attention. In such cases it is usually denoted 
 by the use of the dash ( — ). 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 
 1. God said— "iic< there be lightT 
 
 2. All dead and silent was the earth, « 
 
 In deepest night it lay ; 
 The Eternal spoke creation's word, 
 And called to being— Pay ! 
 
46 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 No definite rule can be given with reference to the length of 
 the rhetorical, or grammatical pause. The correct taste of the 
 reader or speaker must determine it. For the voice should 
 sometimes be suspended much longer at the same pause in one 
 situation than in another j as in the two following 
 
 EXAMPLES. 
 LONa PAUSE. 
 
 Pause a moment. I heard a footstep. Listen now. I heard it 
 again ; but it is going from us. It sounds fainter, — still fainter. 
 It is gone. 
 
 SHORT PAUSE. 
 
 John, be quick. Get some water. Throw the powder overboard. 
 "It can not be reached." Jump into the boat, then. Shove off. Ther« 
 goes the powder. Thank Heaven. We are safe. 
 
 REMARKS TO TEACHERS. 
 
 It is of the utmost importance, in order to secure an easy aud 
 elegant style in reading, to refer the pupil often to the more 
 important principles involved in a just elocution. To this end, 
 it will be found very advantageous, occasionally to review the 
 rules and directions given in the preceding pages, and thus 
 early accustom him to apply them in the subsequent reading 
 lessons. For a wider range of examples and illustrations, it is 
 only necessary to refer to the numerous and various exercises 
 which form the body of this book. They have been selected, 
 in many cases, with a special view to this object. 
 
PART SKGONH. 
 
 LESSON I. 
 
 HJ^R' i$M, bravery ; courage. ^ Res' ou ed, saved ; preserved. 
 
 Ma li" cious, ill-disposed; resentful ^ Di$ as' ter, calamity. 
 
 Am bi" tion, eager desire. < In olin' ed, disposed. 
 
 Sar CAS' tic, severe ; cutting. ( Sym' pa thy, fellow-feeling. 
 
 De rib' ion, ridicule. ( Ten' der ed, offered. 
 
 Con fer' red, bestowed. \ A pol' o gy, excuse. 
 
 TRUE HEROISM* 
 
 OSBOKNB. 
 
 1. I shall never forget a les8on which I received when 
 quite a young lad, while attending an Academy. Among 
 my schoolmates were Hartly and Vincent. They were both 
 older than myself, and Vincent was looked up to, as a sort of 
 leader in matters of opinion, and in directing our sports. 
 
 2. He was not, at heart, a malicious boy ; but he had a 
 foolish ambition of being thought witty and sarcastic ; and he 
 made himself feared by a habit of turning things into ridi- 
 cule. He seemed to be constantly looking out for some- 
 thing to occur, which he could turn into derision. 
 
 3. Hartly was a new scholar, and little was known of 
 him among the boys. One morning, as we were on our way 
 to school, he was seen driving a cow along the road toward 
 the pasture. A group of boys, among whom was Vincent, 
 met him as he was passing. 
 
 w 4. ''Now," said Vincent, '^et us have a little sport 
 with our country rustic." So saying, he exclaimed : "Halloo, 
 
48 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Jonathan !* what is the price of milk ? What do you feed 
 her on ? "What will you take for all the gold on her horns ? 
 Boys, if you want to see the latest Paris style, look at those 
 boots !" 
 
 5. Hartly waved his hand at us with a pleasant smile, 
 and, driving the cow to the field, took down the bars of a 
 rail-fence, saw her safely in the pasture, and then, putting 
 up the bars, came and entered the school with the rest of 
 us. After school, in the afternoon, he let out the cow, and 
 drove her away, none of us knew where. Every day. for 
 two or three weeks, he went through the same task. 
 
 6. The boys who attended the Academy, were nearly all 
 the sons of wealthy parents, and some of them were foolish 
 enough to look down, with a sort of disdain, upon a scholar 
 who had to drive a cow to pasture ; and the sneers and jeers 
 of Yincent were often repeated. 
 
 7. One day, he refused to sit next to Hartly in school, on 
 a pretense that he did not like the odor of the barn. Some- 
 times he would inquire of Hartly after the cow's health, pro- 
 nouncing the word " ke-ow,'' after the manner of some people. 
 
 8. Hartly bore all these silly attempts to wound his feel- 
 ings and annoy him, with the utmost good nature. He 
 never once returned an angry look or word. One time, 
 Vincent said: ''Hartly, I suppose your father intends to 
 make a milkman of you." 
 
 9. "Why not ?" said Hartly. " Oh, nothing," said Yin- 
 cent ; " only do not leave much water in the cans after 
 rinsing them — that's all!" The boys laughed, and Hartly, 
 not in the least mortified, replied : " Never fear ; if I 
 ever rise to be a milkman, I will give good measure and 
 good milk too." 
 
 10. A few days after this conversation, there was a pub^,, 
 
 * JL titie frequently applied to the Tankees by the English. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ^Q 
 
 lie exhibition, at which a number of ladies and gentlemen 
 from the city, was present. Prizes were awarded by the 
 Principal of the Academy, and Hartly and Vincent each re- 
 ceived one: for, in respect to scholarship, they were about equal. 
 
 11. After the prizes were distributed, the Principal re- 
 marked that there was one prize, consisting of a medal, 
 which was rarely awarded, not so much on account of its 
 great value, as because the instances are rare that merit it. 
 It is THE PkiZE FOR HEROISM. The last boy on whom it 
 was conferred, was Master Manners, who, three years ago, 
 rescued the blind girl from drowning. 
 
 12. The Principal then said, ^' With the permission of the 
 company, I will relate a short story. Not long since, some 
 boys were flying a kite in the street, just as a poor boy on 
 horseback rode by, on his way to mill. The horse took 
 fright, and threw the boy, injuring him so badly that he was 
 carried home, and confined for some weeks to his bed. 
 
 13. " None of the boys who had caused the disaster, fol- 
 lowed to learn the fate of the wounded boy. There was one, 
 however, who witnessed the accident from a distance, and 
 went to render what service he could. He soon learned that 
 the wounded boy was the grandson of a poor widow, whose 
 only support consisted in selling the milk of a fine cow, of 
 which she was the owner. 
 
 14. ^' Alas! what could she now do? She was old and 
 lame, and her grandson, on whom she depended to drive 
 the cow to pasture, was now sick and helpless. ' Never 
 mind, good woman,' said the boy, ' I can drive your cow.' 
 With thanks, the poor widow accepted his ofier. 
 
 15. " But the boy's kindness did not stop here. Money 
 was wanted to purchase medicine. ' I have money that my 
 mother sent me to buy a pair of boots,' said the boy ; ' but 
 I can do without them for the present.' 
 
 16. '' ' Oh, no !' said the old lady, ' I can not consent to 
 4U 3 
 
50 'SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 that ; but here is a pair of cowhide boots that I bought for 
 Henry, who can not wear them. If you will buy them, giv- 
 ing me what they cost, I can get along very well.' The boy 
 bought the boots, clumsy as they were, and has worn them 
 up to this time. 
 
 17. " When the other boys of the Academy saw this 
 scholar driving a cow to the pasture, he was assailed with 
 laughter and ridicule. His thick cowhide boots, in partic- 
 ular, were made matters of mirth. But he kept on cheer- 
 fully and bravely, day after day, driving the widow's cow to 
 the pasture, and wearing his thick boots, contented in the 
 thought that he was doing right^ not caring for all the jeers 
 and sneers that could be uttered. 
 
 18. " He never undertook to explain why he drove the 
 cow ; for he was not inclined to display his charitable mo- 
 tives, and besides, in heart, he had no sympathy with the 
 false pride that looks with ridicule on any useful employ- 
 ment. It was by mere accident that his course of conduct 
 and se^f-denial, was yesterday discovered by his teacher. 
 
 19. " And now, ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you. 
 Was there not true heroism in this boy's conduct' ? Nay, 
 Master Hartly, do not steal out of sight behind the black- 
 board ! You were not ashamed of ridicide — you must not 
 shun praise. Come forth^ come forth, Master Edward 
 James Hartly, and let us see your honest face !'^ 
 
 20. As Hartly, with blushing cheeks, made his appear- 
 ance, the whole company greeted him with a round of ap- 
 plause for his heroic conduct. The ladies stood upon 
 benches, and waved their handkerchiefs. The old men 
 clapped their hands, and wiped the moisture from the cor- 
 ners of their eyes. Those clumsy boots on Hartly's feet 
 seemed prouder ornaments, than a crown would have beeii«j^ 
 on his head. The medal was bestowed on him, amid the ap- 
 plause of the whole company. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 51 
 
 21. Vincent was heartily ashamed of his ill-natured 
 sneers, and, after the school was dismissed, he went, with 
 tears in his eyes, and tendered his hand to Hartly, making 
 a handsome apology for his past ill manners. " Think no 
 more about it," said Hartly ; "let us all go and have a ram- 
 ble in the woods, before we break up for vacation." The 
 boys, one and all, followed Vincent's example, .and then, 
 with shouts and huzzas, they all set forth into the woods — 
 a happy, cheerful group. 
 
 Questions. — 1. In what way didYincent try to make derision of Hartly? 
 2. How did Hartly receive it ? 3. For what did Hartly receive a prize from 
 his teacher ? 4. How did the spectators manifest their approbation of Hart- 
 ly's conduct ? 
 
 LESSON II. 
 
 A vert' ED, turned aside. > Plate, dishes of gold or silver ware. 
 
 Re pent' ant, contrite ; sorrowful. 
 Sin cere', honest ; true-hearted. 
 Se vere', harsh ; rigid. 
 Taunts, scoffs ; insults. 
 
 De $ert', forsake ; abandon. 
 Fail' ure, want of success. 
 Sid' ing, taking part. 
 Tyr' an NY, oppression ; cruelty. 
 
 YOU AND U 
 
 Charles Mack at. 
 
 1. Who would scorn his humble fellow 
 
 For the coat he wears ? 
 For the poverty he suffers ? 
 
 For his daily cares ? 
 Who would pass him in the foot-way 
 
 With averted eye ? 
 Would you^ brother' ? No\ — ^you would not. 
 
 If you would, — not /. 
 
 2. Who, when vice or crime repentant, 
 
 With a grief sincere, 
 Asked for pardon, would refuse it, 
 More than heaven severe ? 
 
52 SANDERS' UNION SEHIES. 
 
 Who, to erring woman's sorrow, 
 
 Would with taunts repl j ? 
 Would you^ brother' ? No\ — ^you would not. 
 
 If you would, — not /. 
 
 3. Would you say that Vice is Virtue 
 
 In a hall of state' ? 
 Or, that rogues are not dishonest 
 
 If they dine off plate'? 
 Who would say Success and Merit 
 
 Ne'er part company'? 
 Would 2/ow, brother' ? No\ — you 2^?ow/g? not. 
 
 If you would, — not /. 
 
 4. Who would give a cause his efforts 
 
 When the cause is strong ; 
 But desert it on its failure. 
 
 Whether right or wrong' ? 
 Ever siding with the upmost, 
 
 Letting downmost lie ? 
 Would you^ brother' ? No\ — ^you would not. 
 
 \iyou would, — not /. 
 
 5. Who would lend his arm to strengthen 
 
 Warfare with the right' ? 
 Who would give his pen to blacken 
 
 Freedom's page of light' ? 
 Who would lend his tongue to utter 
 
 Praise of tyranny'? 
 Would you^ brother'? No', — ^you would not. 
 
 If you would, — not /. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What rule for the rising and falling inflections, first verse ? 
 iSee page 28. 2. Repeat the rule. 3. What rule for the falling inflections, 
 fifth verse ? See page 29. 4. Repeat the rule. What is the meaning of 
 the suffix en, in the words strengthen, blacken f See Sanders and McElu- 
 gott's Analysis of English Words, p. 132, Ex. 174. 
 
NUMBER POUR. 53 
 
 LESSON III. 
 
 "W4B' FARE, conflict ; struggle. \ Ya' ri ed, changing ; different. 
 
 Clutch' e$, paws ; firm grasp. s "Wave$, moves to and fro. 
 
 Do min' ion, rule; sway. I Pro phet' ic, (j9^1ike/.) foretelling. 
 
 Pin' ion, wing ; as of a bird. ( De spi$e', scorn ; disdain. 
 
 Pre" cious, costly ; valuable. ( Goal, the mark that bounds a race. 
 
 Scoff' er, scomer. ( Beck' on, motion ; invite with the 
 
 [hand. 
 
 LIFERS WORK. 
 
 1. Life IS onward : use it 
 
 With a forward aim ; 
 Toil is heavenly : choose it, 
 
 And its warfare claim. 
 Look not to another 
 
 To perform your will ; 
 Let not your own brother 
 
 Keep your warm hand still. 
 
 2. Life is onward : never 
 
 Look upon the past ; 
 It would hold you ever 
 
 In its clutches fast. 
 Now is your dominion ; 
 
 Weave it as you please ; , 
 
 Bind not the soul's pinion 
 
 To a bed of ease. 
 
 3. Life is onward : try it, 
 
 Ere the day is lost ; 
 It hath virtue : buy it, 
 
 At whatever cost. 
 If the World should offer 
 
 Every precious gem, 
 Look not at the scoffer, 
 
 Change it not for them. 
 
54 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 4. Life is onicard : heed it, 
 
 In each varied dress ; 
 Your own act can speed it 
 
 On to happiness. 
 His bright pinion o'er you 
 
 Time waves not in vain, 
 If Hope chant before you 
 
 Her prophetic strain. 
 
 5. Life is onward : prize it. 
 
 In sunshine and in storm.; 
 Oh ! do not despise it 
 
 In its humblest form. 
 Hope and Joy together, 
 
 Standing at the goal, 
 Through life's darkest weather, 
 
 Beckon on the soul. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What do it and them refer to, third verse, last line? 2. 
 Repeat the word sunshine several times in quick succession. 
 
 LESSON IV. 
 
 Ac cus' TOM ED, used ; habituated. 5 Mon' arch, sovereign ; ruler. 
 
 Plan ta' tions, settlements. ^ Con ceal' ed, hid ; secreted. 
 
 Pro tec' tion, safety ; defense. s Re stor' ed, brought back. 
 
 Re proach' ful, reproving. < Yi' o lence, outrage ; wrong. 
 
 Cap' tur ed, taken prisoners. j Re buk' ed, reproved. 
 
 De cid' ed, concluded. \ League, compact; alliance. 
 
 Cor' NET, little crown. j Ter' ri ble, fearful ; dreadful. 
 
 Sa lut' ed, greeted. ) At tend' ant, waiter ; servant. 
 
 THE YOUNG CAPTIVES* 
 
 1. Many years ago, during the early settlements in New 
 England, the children were accustomed to gather large quan- 
 tities of nuts, which grew in great abundance in the forests 
 that surrounded their little plantations. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 55 
 
 2. In one of these nut-gatberings, a little boy and girl, 
 the one eight and the other four years of age, whose mother 
 was dead, became separated from their companions. On 
 their way home, they came across some wild grapes, and 
 were busily engaged in gathering them, till the last rays of 
 the setting sun were fading away. 
 
 3. Suddenly they were seized by two Indians. The boy 
 struggled violently, and his little sister cried to him for pro- 
 tection ; but in vain. The Indians soon bore them far beyond 
 the bounds of the settlement. Night was far advanced be- 
 fore they halted. Then they kindled a fire, and offered the 
 children some food. 
 
 4. The heart of the boy swelled high with grief and 
 anger, and he refused to eat. But the poor little girl took 
 some parched corn from the hand of the Indian who held her 
 on his knee. He smiled as he saw her eat the kernels, and 
 look up in his face with a wondering, yet reproachful eye. 
 Then they lay down to sleep in the dark forest, each with 
 an arm over his little captive. 
 
 5. Great was the alarm in the colony when these children 
 did not return. Every spot was searched, where it was 
 thought possible they might have lost their way. But when, 
 at length, their little basket was found, overturned in a tan- 
 gled thicket, they came to the conclusion tliat they must 
 have been captured by the Indians. 
 
 6. It was decided that before any warlike measures were 
 adopted, the father should go peacefully to the Indian king, 
 and demand his children. At the earliest dawn of morning, 
 he departed with his companions. They met a friendly 
 Indian pursuing the chase, who consented to be their guide. 
 
 7. They traveled through rude paths, until the day drew 
 near a close. Then, approaching a circle of native dwellings, 
 in the midst of which was a tent, they saw a man of lofty 
 form, with a coronet of feathers upon his brow, and sur- 
 
56 
 
 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 rounded by warriors. The guide saluted him as his mon- 
 arch, and the bereaved father, bowing down, thus addressed 
 him : 
 
 8. " King of the red men, thou seest a father in pursuit 
 of his lost children. He has heard that your people will not 
 harm the stranger in distress. So he trusts himself fear- 
 lessly among you. The king of our own native land, who 
 should have protected us, became our foe. We fled from 
 our dear homes — from the graves of our fathers. 
 
 9. " The ocean wave brought us to this New World. We 
 are a peaceful race, pure from the blood of all men. We 
 seek to take the hand of our red brethren. Of my own kin- 
 dred, none inhabit this wilderness, save two little buds, from 
 a broken, buried stem. 
 
 10. " Last night, sorrow entered into my soul, because I 
 found them not. Knowest thou, king, if thy people have 
 taken my children' ? Knowest thou where they have con- 
 cealed them' ? Cause them, I pray thee, to be restored 
 to my arms. So shall the Great Spirit bless thy own 
 tender plants, and lift up thy heart when it weigheth 
 heavily on thy bosom." 
 
 11. The Indian monarch, fixing on him a piercing glance, 
 said : *' Knowest thou me' ? Look in my eyes' ! Look' ! 
 Answer meM Are they the eyes of a stranger'?" The 
 bereaved father replied that he had no recollection of having 
 ever before seen his countenance. 
 
 12. " Thus it is with the white man. He is dim-eyed. 
 He looketh on the garments more than on the soul. Where 
 your plows turn up the earth, oft have I stood watching 
 your toil. There was no coronet on my brow. But I was 
 king. And you knew it not. 
 
 13. *' I looked upon your people. I saw neither pride 
 nor violence. I went an enemy ^ but returned a friend, I 
 said to my warriors, ' Do these men no harm. They do not 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 5^ 
 
 hate Indians.' Then our white-haired prophet of the Great 
 Spirit rebuked me. He bade me make no league with the 
 pale faces, lest angry words should be spoken of me, among 
 the shades of our buried kings. 
 
 14. " Yet, again, I went where thy brethren have reared 
 their dwellings. Yes; I entered thy house. And thou 
 knowest not this brow'? I could tell thine at midnight, if 
 but a single star trembled through the clouds. My ear 
 would know thy voice, though the storm was abroad with 
 all its thunders. 
 
 15. "I have said that I was king. Yet I came to thee 
 hungry, and thou gavest me bread. My head was wet with 
 the tempest. Thou badest me lie down on thy couch, and 
 thy son, for whom thou mournest, covered me. 
 
 16. '-I was sad in spirit, and thy little daughter, whom 
 thou seekest with tears, sat on my knee. She smiled when I 
 told her how the beaver buildeth his house in the forest. My 
 heart was comforted, for I saw that she did not hate Indians. 
 
 17. " Turn not on me such a terrible eye. I am no 
 stealer of babes. I have reproved the people who took thy 
 children. I have sheltered them for thee. Not a hair of 
 their head is hurt. Thinkest thou that the red man can for- 
 get kindness' ? They are sleeping in my tent Had I but 
 a single blanket, it should have been their bed. Take them, 
 and return unto thy people." 
 
 18. He waved his hand to an attendant, and, in a moment, 
 the two children were in the arms of their father. The 
 white men were kindly sheltered for that night, and, the next 
 day, they bore the children to their home, and the people 
 rejoiced at their safe return. 
 
 Questions. — 1. By whom were these children taken captive ? 2. "Who 
 went in search of them ? 3. What did he say to the king of the tribe ? 4. 
 What reply did the Indian monarch make ? 5. Were the children restored 
 to their father? 6. What is meant by New World, 9th paragraph? 7. 
 What by two litQa buda, fr9m a broken^ buried stem, same paragraph ? 
 4U 3* 
 
58 SANJOKKS' UNIOM S1SH1KB 
 
 LESSON V. . 
 
 Im' age, form ; likeness. ( Mas' teb t, rule ; sway. 
 
 E laps' ED, glided away. j Un der went', experienced. 
 
 Way' ward ness, perverseness. ! Af fec' tion, love ; attachment. 
 Bhud' der ing, chilling tremor. j Thresh' old, entrance. 
 
 Pas' sign ate, easily excited to anger. \ Anx i' e ty, care ; solicitude. 
 JIead' strong, stubborn ; obstinate, j Per pet' u al, continual. 
 
 MY MOTHER^S LAST KISS* 
 
 Mrs. E, Oakes Smith. 
 
 1. I was but five years old when my mother died ; but her 
 Image is as fresh in my mind, now that twenty years have 
 elapsed, as it was at the time of her death. I remember her, 
 as a pale, gentle being, with a sweet smile, and a voice soft 
 and cheerful when she praised me ; and when I had erred, 
 (for I was a wild, thoughtless child,) there was a mild and 
 tender earnestness in her reproofs, that always went to my 
 little heart. 
 
 2. Methinks I can now see her large, blue eyes moist 
 with sorrow, because of my childish waywardness, and hear 
 her repeat : " My child, how can you grieve me so ?" She 
 had, for a long time, been pale and feeble, and sometimes 
 there would come a bright spot on her cheek, which made 
 her look so lovely, I thought she must be well. But then 
 she spoke of dying, and pressed me to her bosom, and told 
 me to be good when she was gone, and to love my father, and 
 be kind to him ; for he would have no one else to love. 
 
 3. I recollect she was ill all day, and my little hobby- 
 horse and whip were laid aside, and I tried to be very quiet. 
 I did not see her for the whole day, and it seemed very long. 
 At night, they told me my mother was too sick to kiss me, 
 as she always had done before I went to bed, and I must go 
 without it. But I could not. I stole into the room, and, 
 
KUMBER FOUR. 59 
 
 placing my lips close to hers, whispered : '' Mother, dear 
 mother, won't jou kiss me ?" 
 
 4. Her lips were very cold, and when she put her hand 
 upon my cheek, and laid my head on her bosom, I felt a cold 
 shuddering pass all through me. My father carried me 
 from the room : but he could not speak. After they put nie 
 in bed, I lay a long while thinking ; I feared my mother 
 would, indeed, die ; for her cheek felt cold, as my little sis- 
 ter's did when she died, and they carried her little body 
 away where I never saw it again. But I soon fell asleep. 
 
 5. In the morning I rushed to my mother's room, with a 
 strange dread of evil to come upon me. It was just as I 
 feared. A white linen covered her straight, cold form. I 
 removed it from her face : her eyes were closed, and her 
 cheeks were hard and cold. But my mother's dear, dear 
 smile was there, or my heart would have broken. 
 
 6. In an instant, all the little faults, for which she had so 
 often reproved me, rushed upon my, mind. I longed to tell 
 her how good I would always be, if she would but stay with 
 me. I longed to tell her how, in all time to come, her 
 words would be a law to me. I would be all that she had 
 wished me to be. 
 
 7. I was a passionate, headstrong boy ; and never did this 
 frame of temper come upon me, but I seemed to see her mild, 
 tearful eyes full upon me, just as she used to look in life ; 
 and when I strove for the mastery over my passions, her 
 smile seemed to cheer -my heart, and I was happy. 
 
 8. My whole character underwent a change, even from 
 the moment of her death. Her spirit seemed to be always 
 with me, to aid the good and root out the evil that was in 
 me. I felt it would grieve her gentle spirit to see me err, 
 and I could not, would not, do so. 
 
 9. I was the child of her affection. I knew she had 
 
go SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 prayed and, wept over me ; and that even on the threshold of 
 the grave, her anxiety for my welfare had caused her spirit 
 to linger, that she might pray once more for me. I never 
 forgot my mother's last kiss. It was with me in sorrow; it 
 was with me in joy ; it was with me in moments of evil, like 
 a perpetual good. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What was the age of the person represented in this 
 piece ? 2. What, wl\en his mother died ? 3. What did he say of himself 
 when a child ? 4. Had he ever grieved his mother ? 5. What did he say 
 of his faults, after his mother's death ? 6. What did he desire to tell her ? 
 7. How ought you to treat your mother, in order to avoid the reproaches of 
 your own conscience ? 
 
 LESSON VI. 
 
 Sue pri$e', amazement. . J Loi' ter, linger ; tarry. 
 
 Per' ish ed, died. ) Stag' ger ed, reeled to and fro. 
 
 Stint' ed, small of size. { Ford' ed, waded. 
 
 Stern, severe ; harsh ; rigid. > Es cap' ed, fled from. 
 
 THE DEAD CHILD'S FORO. 
 
 Mrs. E. Oakis Smith. 
 
 1. " Dear mother, here's the very place 
 
 Where little John was found, 
 The water covering up his face, 
 
 His feet upon the ground.' 
 Now won't you tell me all about 
 
 The death of little John'? 
 And how the woman sent him out 
 
 Long after sun was down' ? 
 And tell me all about the wrong ^ 
 And that will make the story long," 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 2. I took the child upon mj knee, 
 
 Beside the lake so clear ; 
 Por there the tale of misery 
 
 Young Edward begged to hear. 
 He looked into mj very eyes, 
 
 With sad and earnest face. 
 And caught his breath with wild surprise, 
 
 And turned to mark the place 
 Where perished, years agone, the child 
 Alone, beneath the waters wild. 
 
 3. "A weakly orphan boy was John, 
 
 A barefoot, stinted child, 
 Whose work-day task was never done, 
 
 Who wept when others smiled. 
 Around his home the trees were high, 
 
 Down to the water's brink, 
 And almost hid the pleasant sky, 
 Where wild deer came to drink.'' 
 (") "And did they come, the pretty deer'? 
 And did they drink the water here' ?" 
 
 4. Cried Edward, with a wondering eye: 
 
 " Now, mother, tell to me. 
 Was John about as lar^e as I' ? '^ 
 
 Pray tell, how big was he'?" 
 " He was an older boy than t/oUj 
 
 And stouter every way ; 
 For, water from the well he drew, 
 
 And hard he worked all day. 
 But then poor John was sharp and thin. 
 With sun-burnt hair and sun-burnt skin. 
 
 61 
 
62 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. "^'His mother used to spin and weave; 
 
 From farm to farm she went ; 
 And, though it made her much to grieve, 
 
 She John to service sent. 
 He lived with one, a woman stern, 
 
 Of hard and cruel ways ; 
 And he must bring her wood to burn, 
 
 From forest and highways ; 
 And then, at night, on cold, hard bed, 
 He laid his little, aching head. 
 
 6. " The weary boy had toiled all day 
 
 With heavy spade and hoe ; 
 His mistress met him on the way, 
 
 And bade him quickly go 
 And bring her home some sticks of wood, 
 
 For she would bake and brew ; 
 When he returned, she'd give him food ; 
 
 For she had much to do. 
 And then she charged him not to stay, 
 Nor loiter long upon the way. 
 
 7. "He went; but scarce his toil-worn feet 
 Could crawl along the wood, 
 
 He was so spent with work and heat, 
 
 And faint for lack of food. 
 He bent his aching, little back 
 
 To bear the weight along. 
 And staggered then upon the track; 
 
 For John was never strong. 
 His eyesight, too, began to fail, 
 And he grew giddy, faint, and pale. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 8. " The load was small, quite small, 'tis true, 
 
 But John could bring no more ; 
 The woman in a rage it threw, — 
 
 She stamped upon the floor. 
 (/. ) * No supper you shall have to-night ; 
 
 So go along to bed, 
 You good-for-nothing, ugly fright, 
 
 You little stupid-head !' " 
 Said Edward : " / would never go ; 
 She wouldn't dare to serve me so!" 
 
 9. " The moon-beams fell upon the child 
 
 As, weeping, there he lay ; 
 And gusty winds were sweeping wild 
 
 Along the forest way. 
 When up rose John, at dead of night; 
 
 For he would see his mother ; 
 She loved her child, although he might 
 
 Be nothing to another. 
 That narrow creek he forded o'er, — 
 'Tis nearer than around the shore. 
 
 10. " But here the shore is rough, you see; 
 
 The bank is high and steep ; 
 And John, who climbed on hands and knee, 
 
 His footing could not keep. 
 He backward fell, all, all alone ; 
 
 Too weak was he to rise ; 
 (/>Z.) And no one heard his dying moan, 
 
 Or closed his dying eyes. 
 How still he slept ! And grief and pain 
 Could never come to him again. 
 
 63 
 
64 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 11. "A stranger, passing on his way, 
 
 Found him, as you have said ; 
 His feet were out upon the clay, 
 
 The water o'er his head. 
 And then his foot-prints showed the path 
 
 He took, adown the creek, 
 When he escaped the woman's wrath, 
 
 So hungry, faint, and weak. 
 And people now, as you have, heard. 
 Do call the place. The Dead Child's Ford." 
 
 Questions.— 1. Was John an orphan, or half orphan? 2. Wa; he 
 drowned at night, or in the daytime ? 3. By whom was he found ? 4. 
 "What is the place called where he was drowned ? 5. Give the rule for the 
 rising inflections, as marked in the 1st, 2d, and 4th verses. 6. Why are 
 there no quotation marks at the beginning of the 2d verse ? *J. Why are 
 half quotations used in the 3d and 8th verses ? 8. How should a part of 
 the 8th and 10th verses be read, according to the notation marks? See 
 page 41. 
 
 LESSOE VII. 
 
 Ex claim' ED, cried out. J Breach, violation. 
 
 De mand' ing, asking ; requiring. ^ Yis' ion, sight ; view. 
 
 A Miss', wrong ; improperly. $ De scrip' tion, account. 
 
 Ac cu$' ED, charged with. > Slug' card, lazy person. 
 
 IxAME AND JCAZY.— A fable.* 
 
 1. Two beggars. Lame and Lazy, were in want of bread. 
 One leaned on his crutch, the other reclined on his couch. 
 Lame called on Charity, and humbly asked for a cracker. 
 Instead of a cracker, he received a loaf. 
 
 2. Lazy, seeing the gift of Charity, exclaimed : " What' ! 
 
 * For an explanation of the term fabl e, see page 236 
 
NUMBER FOUR. (55 
 
 ask a cracker and receive a loaf ? Well, I will ask a loaf." 
 Lazy now applied to Charity, and called for a loaf of bread. 
 *' Your demanding a loaf," said Charity, " proves you a 
 haf-er. You are of that class and character who ask and 
 receive not ; because you ask amiss." 
 
 3. Lazy, who always found fault, and had rather whine 
 than work, complained of ill-treatment, and even accused 
 Cl^arity of a breach of an exceeding great and precious 
 promise : '' Ask, and ye shall receive." 
 
 4. Charity pointed him to a painting in her room, which 
 presented to his vision three personages. Faith, Hope, and 
 Charity. Charity appeared larger and fairer than her sis- 
 ters. He noticed that her right hand held a pot of honey, 
 which fed a bee disabled, having lost its wings. Her left 
 hand was armed with a whip to keep off the drones. 
 
 5. " I do not understand it," said Lazy. Charity re- 
 plied : "It means that Charity feeds the lame, and Jlo^s 
 the lazy." Lazy turned to go. " Stop," said Charity, 
 "instead of com, I will give you counsel. Do not go and 
 live on your poor mother; I will send you to a rich antP 
 
 6. '•'•Rich aunt' ?^^ echoed Lazy. "Where shall I find 
 her^ ?" " You will find a description of her," replied 
 Charity, "in Proverbs, sixth chapter, sixth, seventh, and 
 eighth verses, which read as follows : ^ Go to the ant, thou 
 sluggard ; consider her ways, and be wise ; which, having 
 no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in summer, 
 and gathereth her food in the harvest.' " 
 
 7. Moral. Instead of waiting and wishing for a rich 
 UNCLE to die, go and see how a rich ant lives. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "Where is the quotation in the 3d paragraph to be found? 
 Answer. John, 16th chapter, 24th verse. 2. Where, the quotation in the 
 6th paragraph ? 3. WTiy does it commence with a half quotation ? Answer. 
 Because it denotes a quotation within a quotation. 
 
(Jg SANDERS' UNION SERIES, 
 
 LESSON VIII. 
 
 BU-UGh' ty, proud ; disdainful. S De clin' ing, failing. 
 
 Par tic' u lar ly, especially. c Pre vent' ed, hindered. 
 
 Trans act', do ; perform. ; Ap pro ba' tion, approval 
 
 A bash' ed, confused. S Pre' cepts, instructions ; counsels. 
 
 Dis cov' ER, find out. i Ben e fac' tor, friend ; one th£ t 
 
 Ex am' ine {egz dm' in), look over ; ^ benefits. 
 
 inspect. S A mass' ed, gathered. 
 
 Rec' ti FY, correct ; make right. ( A dapt' ed, suited. 
 
 Reg' om pense, reward. ; Con fi den' tial, trusty ; trusted 
 
 De !)erve$', merits. ) In teg' ri ty, honesty. 
 
 FAITHFULNESS XM LITTLE THINGS. 
 
 Eliza. A. Chasb. 
 
 1. ''Is Mr. Harris in'?" inquired a plainly, but neatly 
 dressed boy, twelve or thirteen years of age, of a clerk, as 
 be stood by the counter of a large bookstore. 
 
 The clerk regarded the boy with a haughty look, and 
 answered : " Mr. Harris is in ; but he is engaged." 
 
 2. The boy looked at the clerk hesitatingly, and then 
 said : " If he is not particularly engaged, I would like to 
 see him." 
 
 " If you have any business to transact, /can attead to 
 it," replied the clerk. " Mr. Harris can not be troubled 
 with boys like you." 
 
 3. "What is this, Mr. Morley?" said a pleasant-look- 
 ing man, stepping up to the clerk; "what does the boy 
 want?" 
 
 " He insisted on seeing you, though I told him you were 
 engaged," returned the clerk, a little abashed by the manner 
 of bis employer. 
 
 4. " And what do you wish to see me about, my lad?^* 
 inquired Mr. Harris, kindly. 
 
 The boy raised his eyes, and, meeting the scornful glance 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 
 
 G7 
 
 of the clerk, said timidly : "I wish you to look at the bill 
 of some books which I bought here, about three months 
 since. There is a mistake in it, which I wish to correct." 
 
 5. "Ah, my boy, I see," replied Mr. Harris ; " you have 
 overpaid us, I suppose !" 
 
 '' No, sir," answered the boy. " On the contrary, I 
 purchased some books which are not charged in the bill, and 
 I have called to pay for them'." 
 
 6. Mr. Harris looked at the boy earnestly for a moment, 
 and then asked : " When did you discover this mistake ?" 
 
 *' Not until I reached home," replied the lad. ^'When 
 I paid for the books I was in a great hurry, fearing the boat 
 would leave before I could reach it, and I did not examine 
 the bill." 
 
 T^ "Why did you not return before, and rectify the mis- 
 take ?" asked the gentleman, in a tone slightly altered. 
 
 " Because, sir, I live some distance from the city, and 
 have not been able to return till now." 
 
 8. " My dear boy," said Mr. Harris, "you have given 
 me great pleasure. In a long life of mercantile business, I 
 have never met with an instance of this kind before. You 
 have acted nobly and deserve a recompense." 
 
 " I ask no recompense," returned the boy. " / have 
 done nothing bid my duty — a simple act of justice, and that 
 deserves no reward, but itself." 
 
 9. "May I ask who taught you such noble principles'?' 
 inquired Mr. Harris. 
 
 " My mother,' ' answered the boy, bursting into tears. 
 
 10. " Blessed is the child who has such a mother," said 
 Mr. Harris, " and blessed is the mother of such a child. Be 
 faithful to her teachings, my dear boy, and you will be the 
 staff of her declining years." 
 
 *' Alas, sir," said the boy, " my mother is dead ! It was 
 
53 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 her sickness and death which prevented me from coming 
 here before."^ 
 
 11. What is your name?'' inquired Mr. Harris. 
 *' Edward Delong." 
 
 " Have you a father living' ?" 
 
 *' No, sir. Mj father died when I was an infant." 
 
 12. '' Where do you reside ?" 
 
 '* In the town of Linwood, about fifty miles from this 
 city." 
 
 " Well, my boy, what are the books which were forgotten ?'' 
 *' Tacitus and a Latin Dictionary." 
 
 13. " Let me see the bill. Ha! signed by A. C. Mor- 
 ley. I will see to that. Here, Mr. Morley !" called Mr.' 
 Harris ; but the clerk was busily engaged in waiting on a 
 customer at the opposite side of the store, bowing, and 
 smiling in the most attentive manner. 
 
 14. '• Edward," continued Mr. Harris, '' I am not going 
 to reivard you for what you have done ; but I wish to man- 
 ifest my approbation of your conduct in such a manner, as 
 to make you remember the wise and excellent precepts of 
 your departed mother. Select from my store any ten books 
 you choose, which, in addition to the two you had before, 
 shall be a present to you ; and henceforth, as now, my boy, 
 remember and not ' despise the day of small things.' If 
 ever you need a friend, call on me, and I will assist you." 
 
 15. The grateful boy thanked his kind benefactor, and, 
 with tears in his eyes, bowed and left the store. 
 
 Edward Belong wished for knowledge, and, though the 
 scanty means left him by his mother, could hardly satisfy 
 his desire, by diligence and economy he had advanced far 
 beyond most boys of his age. By working nights and morn- 
 ings for a neighbor, he had amassed, what seemed to him, a 
 large sum of money, and this was expended in books. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. gg 
 
 16. Edward's home was now with a man who regarded 
 money as the chief end and aim of life, and severe and 
 constant physical labor as the only means of obtaining that 
 end. For two years Edward struggled with his hopeless 
 condition, toiling early and late to obtain a livelihood. 
 
 17. Edward now resolved to go to the city, to seek some 
 employment, better adapted to promote his education. He 
 entered the same store where he purchased the books, and 
 inquired for Mr. Harris. 
 
 " He is engaged." replied the polite clerk. " If you will 
 wait a moment, he will be at liberty." 
 
 18. " Did you wish to see me ?" asked Mr. Harris of the 
 boy, whose thoughts were so intense that he had not noticed 
 the approach of his friend. 
 
 "Mr. Harris!" exclaimed Edward, and it was all he could 
 say. For the remembrance of past favors bestowed on him 
 by his kind benefactor, so filled his heart with gratitude, 
 that further utterance was denied. 
 
 '' My noble Edward !" said the old gentleman. ^' And so 
 you needed a friend. Well, you shall have one." 
 
 19. Five years from that time, Edward Belong was the 
 confidential clerk of Mr. Harris, and, in three more, a part- 
 ner in the firm. The integrity of purpose, which first won 
 the regard of his benefactor, was his guide in after life. 
 Prosperity crowned his efibrts, and happiness blessed his 
 heart, — the never-failing result of faithfulness in little 
 things. 
 
 Questions.— -1. Why did Edward Belong wish to see Mr. Harris ? 2. 
 Had he overpaid for the books he purchased ? 3. What did he say when 
 Mr. Harris told him he deserved a recompense ? 4. What books were not 
 charged in the bill ? 5. In what way did Mr. Harris manifest his approval 
 of Edward's conduct? 6. How long after this, before he again called on 
 Mr. Harris? 7. Why could he not, at first, talk with Mr. Harris? 8. 
 What did Edward finally become ? 
 
70 SANDERS' UNIOS SERIES. 
 
 LESSON IX. 
 
 Grace' ful ly, beautifully. 5 Can' non ry, discharge of cannon. 
 
 Proud' lt, splendidly. j Ju' bi lee, season of public joy. 
 
 For' eign {for' en), distant. I Wit' ness ed, seen ; beheld. 
 
 Clime$, countries; regions. S Na' tive, birth-giving. 
 
 Sym' bol, sign; emblem. i Boon, gift; blessing. 
 
 Fear' ful, dreadful ; terrible. I Par' a dise, blissful abode. 
 
 THE AMERICAN BOY* 
 
 SON. 
 
 Father, look up, and see that flag I 
 
 How gracefully it flies ! 
 Those pretty stripes, they seem to be 
 
 A rainbow in the skies. 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 It is your country's flag, my boy, 
 And proudly drinks the light, 
 
 O'er ocean's wave, in foreign climes, 
 A symbol of our might. 
 
 SON. 
 Father, what fearful noise is that, 
 
 Now thundering in the clouds ? 
 Why do they wave their hats, 
 
 And rush along in crowds ? 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 It IS the voice of cannonry, 
 
 The glad shouts of the free ; 
 This is a day of memory, 
 
 'Tis FreedOxM's jubilee ! 
 
NUMBER FOUR. trn 
 
 SON. 
 
 I wish that /was now a man, 
 
 Id free my country too, 
 And cheer as loudly as the rest ; 
 
 But, father, whj don't you? 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 I'm getting old and weak ; but still 
 
 Mj heart is big with joy ; 
 I've witnessed many a day like this. 
 
 Shout you aloud, my boy ! 
 
 SON. 
 
 (°°) Hurrah, for Freedom's jubilee, 
 God bless our native land ! 
 And may / live to hold the boon 
 Of freedom in my hand. 
 
 FATHER. 
 
 Well done, my boy, grow up, and love 
 The land that gave you birth, — 
 
 A land where Freedom loves to dwell, — 
 A paradise on earth. 
 
 Questions.— 1. Of what is our flag a sTmbol? 2. What is meant by 
 Freedom's jubilee f 3. What is the use of the apostrophes in the words Id, 
 Tm, Tve, &o. 
 
 LESSON X. 
 
 BiL' Low$, waves; surges. | Sweep, pass or drive over. 
 
 De light', joy ; pleasure. Rife, filled ; abounding. 
 
 L»ooM, fate; end. Yoy' ^ge, passage : journey. 
 
 TwiNK' LE$, sparkles. An' CHOR ed, moored ; fixed. ^ 
 
 Glare, bright, dazzling light. Ha' ven, harbor. 
 
 Ex panse/, surface , extent. Peace' pul ly, quietly ; calmly. 
 
«72 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 THE SAILOR BOY'S SONG* 
 
 WEITTEN BY A GIBL THIRTEEN YEAK8 OF AGE. , 
 
 1. (") Ob ! the sea, the sea 
 Is the place for me, 
 
 With its billows blue and bright ; 
 I love its roar, 
 As it breaks on the shore, 
 
 And its danger to me is delight 
 
 2. Oh ! I love the wave. 
 And the sailor brave, 
 
 Who often meets his doom 
 
 On the ocean vast. 
 
 And sleeps his last 
 In a shell and coral tomb. 
 
 8. And, in the night, 
 The moon's soft light 
 
 Smiles sweetly on the foamy billow ; 
 And many a star, 
 As it twinkles afar, 
 
 Seems to rise from a watery pillow. 
 
 4. In the noontide glare. 
 
 Oh ! bright and fair 
 Is the wide expanse of ocean ; 
 %^» ^ In the morn's first light 
 
 'Tis a glorious sight, 
 So full of life and motion. 
 
 5. When the tempests sweep 
 The rolling deep. 
 
 ^ 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 73 
 
 And the angry billows swell, 
 
 I mind not the strife, 
 
 Which to me is rife 
 With thoughts that I can not tell. 
 
 6. When life's voyage is o'er, 
 
 And I sail no more 
 On the ocean's troubled breast. 
 
 Safe anchored above, 
 
 In the haven of love. 
 May the sailor boy peacefully rest ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What is meant by cored tomb, 2d yerse ? 2. "Whati by 
 watery pillow, third verse. 
 
 LESSON XI. 
 
 FOUN da' tion, commencement. J En deav' or ed, tried ; attempted. 
 
 Do MES' Ti CA TED, tamed. Anx' ious, very desirous. 
 
 Fa' vor ite, one specially favored, f In ter cept', (inter, heiween; cept, 
 Ca ress' ED, fondled ; petted. \ to take or seize ;) to stop on the way. 
 
 Gam' bol ing, skipping ; frolicking. \ Be tray' ed, showed ; disclosed. 
 Im' pulse, feeling of excitement. 1 Re strain' ed, held back ; checked. 
 Di lat' ed, distended. \ Cow' ed, depressed with fear. 
 
 Spec ta' tor$, observers ; lookers on. ) En grav' eb, cut ; inscribed. 
 In this lesson every pause is marked with its appropriate inflection. 
 
 CHASE OF THE PET FAWN* 
 
 Miss COOPBIU 
 
 1. Within twenty years from the foundation of our vil- 
 lage',* the deer had already become scarce', and', in a brief 
 period later', they had almost entirely fled from the country\ 
 One of the last of these beautiful creatures', a pretty little 
 
 ^ Cooperstown, New York. 
 4U 4 
 
/ 
 
 74 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 fawn', had been brought in from the woods', when it was 
 very young', and had been nursed and petted by a young 
 lady in the village', until it became completely domesticated\ 
 
 2. It was graceful', as those little creatures always are', 
 and so gentle and playful that it became a great favorite\ 
 Following the different members of the family about', it was 
 caressed and welcomed everywhere\ One morning', after 
 gamboling about as usual', until weary', it threw itself 
 down in the sunshine', at the feet of one of its friends', upon 
 the door-step of a store\ 
 
 3. There came along a countryman', who', for several 
 years', had been a hunter by pursuit', and who still kept 
 several hounds\ one of which came to the village with him', 
 on this occasion\ The dog', as it approached the place 
 -where the fawn lay', suddenly stopped^ ; the little animal 
 saw him', and darted to its feet\ 
 
 4. It had lived more than half its life among the vil- 
 lagers', and had apparently lost all fear of them^ ; but it 
 now seemed to know instinctively that an enemy was at hand\ 
 In an instant', its whole character and appearance seemed 
 changed^; all its past habits were forgotten^; every wild 
 impulse was awake^ ; its head erect', its nostrils dilated', its 
 eyes flashing\ 
 
 5. In another instant', before the spectators had thought 
 of the danger', and before its friends could secure it', the 
 fawn was leaping wildly through the street', and the hound 
 in full chase\ The by-standers were eager to save it^ ; sev- 
 eral persons instantly followed its track'; the friends who 
 had long fed and fondled it', were calling the name it had 
 hitherto known^ ; but', in vain\ 
 
 6. The hunter endeavored to call back his dog^ ; but', with 
 no better success\ In half a minute', the fawn had turned 
 the first corner', dashed onward toward the lake', and thrown 
 
NUMBER FOUR 
 
 75 
 
 itself into the water\ But', if, for a moment', the startled 
 creature believed itself safe in the lake', it was soon unde- 
 ceived^; for the hound followed in hot and eager chase', 
 while a dozen village dogs joined in the pursuit\ 
 
 7. A large crowd collected on the bank' — men', women', 
 and children', — anxious for the fate of the little animaP. 
 Some threw themselves into boats', hoping to intercept the 
 liound before he reached his prey\ But the splashing of 
 the oars', the voices of men and boys', and the barking of 
 the dogs', must have filled the beating heart of the poor 
 fawn with terror and anguish^ ; as if every creature on the 
 spot where it had once been caressed and fondled', had sud- 
 denly turned into a deadly foe\ 
 
 8. It was soon seen that the fawn was directing its course 
 across a bay', toward the nearest borders of the forest\ 
 Immediately the owner of the hound crossed the bridge', ran 
 at full speed in the same direction, hoping to stop his dog 
 as he landed\ On swam the fawn', as it had never swam 
 before^ ; its delicate head scarcely seen above the water', but 
 leaving a disturbed track which betrayed its course alike to 
 anxious friends and fierce enemies\ 
 
 9. As it approached the land', the interest became intense\ 
 The hunter was already on the same side of the lake', calling 
 loudly and angrily to his dog^ ; but the animal seemed to 
 have quite forgotten his master's voice in the pitiless pur- 
 suit\ The fawn touched the land^ ; in one leap', it had 
 crossed the narrow piece of beach', and', in another instant', 
 it would reach the cover of the woods\ 
 
 10. The hound followed true to the scent', aiming at the 
 same spot on the shore\ His master', anxious to meet him', 
 had run at full speed', and was now coming up at the same 
 critical moment\ Would the dog listen to his voice' ? Could 
 the hunter reach him in time to seize and control him' ? A 
 
76 SANDERS' UNION SERIES, 
 
 shout from the spectators proclaimed that the fawn had 
 passed out of sight into the forest\ At the same instant', 
 the hound', as he touched the land', felt the hunter s strong 
 arm clutching his neck\ 
 
 11. The worst was believed to be over^ ; the fawn was 
 leaping up the mountain-side', and its enemy restrained\ 
 The other dogs', seeing their leader cowed', were easily man- 
 aged\ A number of men and boys dispersed themselves 
 through the wood in search of the little creature^ ; but', with- 
 out success\ They all returned to the village', reporting 
 that the animal had not been seen by them\ Some persons 
 thought that', after its fright had passed over', it would 
 return of its own accord\ 
 
 12. It wore a pretty collar with its owner's name engraved 
 upon it', so that it could be easily known from any other 
 fawn', that might be straying about the woods\ Before many 
 hours had passed', a hunter presented himself before the 
 lady', whose pet the little creature had been', and showed a 
 collar with her name upon it\ He said that he was out 
 hunting in the morning', and saw a fawn in the distance\ 
 The little creature', instead of bounding away as he expected', 
 moved toward him\ He took aim', fired', and shot it to the 
 heart\ 
 
 13. When he found the collar about its neck', he was 
 very sorry he had killed it\ One would have thought that 
 that terrible chase would have made it afraid of man^ ; but 
 no^ ; it forgot the evil\ and remembered the kindness only" ; 
 and came to meet', as a friend', the hunter who shot it\ It 
 was long mourned by its best friend\ 
 
 Questions. — 1. Where did the lady reside who kept this pet fawn ? 2. 
 
 Is there a lake near that village ? 3. "What river rises in that lake ? 4. 
 
 Describe the chase of the pet fawn. 5. How came it to be shot ? 6. 
 "What did it forget, and what remember ? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 77 
 
 LESSON XII. 
 
 In' flu ence, moral power. j Tim' id, fearful ; timorous. 
 Droop' ed, bent over ; languished. Re strain' ed, held back. 
 Ting' ed, stained ; colored. At test', bear witness. 
 
 Del' I gate, soft ; tender. \ Sua' sion, act of persuading 
 Trib' ute, pay ; requital. Com pli' ance, submission. 
 
 Case' ment, window. > Pal' ed, inclosed. 
 
 Terch' ed, alighted. j De bas' ed, degraded. 
 
 Plaint' ive, sorrowful. j De' vi ate, wander ; stray. 
 
 Af fright' ed, alarmed. < Le' ni ent, mild ; merciful. 
 
 KINDNESS. 
 
 Kate Clarence. 
 
 1. Not man alone, but every thing in nature, owns its 
 influence. I knew a little flower that sprang up amidst the 
 weeds and brambles of a long-neglected garden ; but soon 
 drooped its slender stem, and its leaves grew tinged from 
 the waste around. 
 
 2. I took it to my home, supported its drooping stem, and 
 placed it where the warm sunshine and refreshing showers 
 cheered its little life. Again it raised its beautiful head, 
 and its delicate buds burst forth in gladness ; and when the 
 winds of autumn came, the dying flower gave up to me its 
 golden seeds — a thankful tribute for my love. 'Twas a 
 little thing, but kindness did the deed. 
 
 3. There came to my casement, one winter's morning, a 
 shivering, starving bird, and perched itself there, striving to 
 tell its tale of suffering ; but feeble were its plaintive notes, 
 and its glossy breast was ruflled in the blast. I raised the 
 ^vindow. Affrighted, the little wanderer spread its wings, 
 as if to soar away ; but, weak and faint, it sank fluttering in 
 my outstretched hands. I drew it in. Alarmed, it darted 
 round and round the room, and beat against the frosted 
 
78 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 pane. O Cruelty ! thou hast taught even the little birds 
 to doubt ! 
 
 4. When the little stranger grew less timid, I gave it 
 clear wat6r, and tempting food, and so, for many weeks, we 
 dwelt together ; but when came the first warm, sunny 
 day, I opened my doors, and it flew away, — away up^ 
 up into the dark-blue heavens, till it was lost to my 
 eager gaze. 
 
 5. But not an hour had passed, ere I heard the flutter of 
 its tiny wings, and saw, without, its little breast glittering 
 in the golden sunbeams. It had a joyous life. No wired 
 cage restrained its restless wing; but, free as the summer 
 cloud, would it come each day, and gladly would my de- 
 lighted soul drink in the silvery notes of its gladdening 
 melody. 
 
 6. And it is not birds and flowers alone, that, treated 
 with kindness, flourish so brightly 'neath its heaven-born 
 rays. Individuals , families^ natiotis^ attest its truth. 
 Legal suasion may frighten to compliance, but moral 
 suasion rules the will. 
 
 7. To the erring wanderer, in the by and forbidden paths 
 of sin, with a heart paled in darkness, and lost to every 
 better feeling of his nature, one little word, one little act of 
 kindness, however slight, will find a sunny resting-place in 
 that sinful shade, and prove a light to guide the wayward 
 one to holier and better deeds. The lion licked the hand 
 that drew the thorn from his wounded foot ; and Powhatan 
 stayed the descending club, when the burning lips of the 
 Indian girl pressed the prisoner's* pallid brow. 
 
 8. And it is ever thus. There beats not a heart, how- 
 ever debased by sin, or darkened by sorrow, that has not its 
 
 * Captain Smith. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. fj^g 
 
 noblest impulses aroused, in view of a generous and kindly 
 action. The Holy Father implanted His own pure prin- 
 ciples in the breast of every one^ and widely do we deviate 
 from their just dictates, when an unkind word, or an unkind 
 act, wounds a broken heart, or crushes a loving, gentle 
 nature. 
 
 9. ^^ Speak not harshly^ — much of care 
 Every human heart must bear ; 
 Enough of shadows rudely play 
 Around the very sunniest way ; 
 Enough of sorrows darkly lie 
 Vailed within the merriest eye. 
 By thy childhood's gushing tears, 
 By thy grief in after years, 
 By the anguish thou dost know, 
 Add not to another'' s woe, 
 
 10. " Speak not harshly^ — much of sin 
 Dwelleth every heart within ; 
 In its closely caverned cells, 
 Many a wayward passion dwells. 
 By the many hours misspent, 
 By the gifts to error lent, 
 By the wrongs thou didst not shun, 
 By the good thou hast not done, 
 With a lenient spirit scan 
 The weakness of thy brother man.'* 
 
 Questions.— 1. On what has kindness an influence ? 2. What influence 
 had it upon the little flower ? 3. What, upon the little bird ? 4. What is 
 said of cruelty? 5. What is said of legal and moral suasion? . 6. What is 
 said of the lion ? T. Of Powhatan ? 8. Why ought we not to speak 
 harshly ? 
 
80 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XIII. 
 
 Shaft, arrow ; here, careless word. \ Wring, writhe. 
 
 Mes' sen ger$, message-bearers. ) Un a ware$, unconsciously. 
 
 Pang, distress; anguish. Min'' GLE$', unites; mixes. 
 
 Spell$, charms ; enchantments. En dear' ing, kind ; afl'ectionata. 
 
 Seal' ed, closed up ; under seal. E clipse', darkness ; obscuration. 
 
 Sep' ul cher, {ch like k\ grave ; tomb. Cher' ish ed, fostered. 
 
 Sum' mon ed, called. En shrinked, sacredly preserved. 
 
 Ag' o NY, extreme sui^ermg. ( Ut' tee ed, expressed. 
 
 CARELESS WORDS* 
 
 1. Oh, never say a careless Word 
 
 Hath not the power to pain ; 
 The shaft may ope some hidden wound, 
 
 That closes not again ! 
 Weigh well those light- winged messengers ; 
 
 God marked your heedless Word, 
 And with it, too, the falling tear, 
 
 The heart-pang that it stirred. 
 
 2. Words! what are Words ? A simple Word 
 
 Hath spells to call the tears. 
 That long have lain a sealed fount, 
 
 Unclosed through mournful years. 
 Back from the unseen sepulcher, 
 
 A Word hath summoned forth 
 A form that hath its place no more 
 
 Among the things of Earth. 
 
 3. Words ! heed them well ; some whispered one 
 
 Hath yet a power to fling 
 
NUMBER FOUR. . g]^ 
 
 A shadow on the brow, the soul 
 
 In agonj to wring ; 
 A name, forbidden, or forgot, 
 
 That sometimes, unawares. 
 Murmurs upon our wak'ning lips, 
 
 And mingles in our prayers. 
 
 4. Oh, Words ! sweet Words ! A blessing comes 
 
 Softly from kindly lips ; 
 Tender, endearing tones, that break 
 
 The Spirit's drear eclipse. 
 Oh I are there not some cherished tones 
 
 In the deep heart enshrined, 
 Uttered but once — they passed — and left 
 
 A track of light behind' ? 
 
 Questions. — 1. What is said of careless words? 2. What, of swMi 
 ivords f 3. What is the use of the apostrophe in walc'ning, third verse 7 
 4. What is the meaning of the suffix less, in the words careless, heedless 7 
 See Sanders' New Speller, Definer, and Analyzer, page 143, Ex. 369. 
 
 LESSON XIV. 
 
 Teg' e ta ble$, plants. \ Prac' ti cal, pertaining to practice. 
 Dep RE da' TiON, robbery; plunder, j Dis tin" guish ed, celebrated. 
 
 Cap' tor ing, catching. | Ju' rist, one versed in law. 
 
 Tres' pass er, transgressor. \ Ap fect'ed, moved; impressed. 
 
 Ap peal' ed, referred. i Fur' nish ed, supplied. 
 
 Coun' sel, lawyer; advocate. j Yi' o la ted, broken; transgressed. 
 
 Ar' gu ment, plea; reason. \ De prive', rob; hinder. 
 
 Urg' ing, enforcing ; advocating. J Al lud' ed, referred ; adverted. 
 
 Mrs' CHIET ous, hurtful; injurious. \ Restore', give back. 
 4 U 4* 
 
32 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 WEBSTER ANO THE WOOOCHUCK* 
 
 Boston Tkaveleb. 
 
 1. Ebenezer Webster, the father of Daniel, was a farmer. 
 The vegetables in his garden had suffered considerably from 
 the depredations of a woodchuck, which had his hole or 
 habitation near the premises. Daniel, some ten or twelve 
 years old, and his older brother Ezekiel, had set a trap, and 
 finally succeeded in capturing the trespasser. 
 
 2. Ezekiel proposed to kill the animal, and end, at once, 
 all further trouble from him ; but Daniel looked with com- 
 passion upon his meek, dumb captive, and offered to let him 
 again go free. The boys could not agree, and each appealed 
 to their father to decide the case. 
 
 8. "Well, my boys," said the old gentleman, "/ will be 
 the judge. There is the prisoner, (pointing to the wood- 
 chuck,) and you shall be the counsel, and plead the csise for 
 and against his life and liberty." 
 
 4. Ezekiel opened the case with a strong argument, urg- 
 ing the mischievous nature of the criminal, the great harm 
 he had already done ; said that much time and labor had 
 been spent in his capture, and now, if he was suffered to live 
 and go again at large, he would renew his depredations, and 
 be cunning enough not to suffer himself to be caught again. 
 
 5. He urged, further, that his skin was of some value, 
 and that, to make the most of him they could, it would not 
 repay half the damage he had already done. His argument 
 was ready, practical, to the point, and of much greater length 
 than our limits will allow us to occupy in relating the story. 
 
 6. The father looked with pride upon his son, who became 
 a distinguished jurist in his manhood. " Now, Daniel, it is 
 your turn : I'll hear what you have to say." 
 
 7. It was his first case. Daniel saw that the plea of his 
 brother had sensibly affected his father, the judge, and as his 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 33 
 
 large, brilliant, black eyes looked upon the soft, timid, expres- 
 sion of the animal, and he saw it tremble with fear in its 
 narrow prison-house, his heart swelled with pitj, and he 
 urged, with eloquent words, that the captive might again go 
 free. 
 
 8. "God," he said, "had made the woodchuck ; he made 
 him to live, to enjoy the bright sunlight, the pure air, the 
 free fields and woods. God had not made him, or any thing, 
 in vain; the woodchuck had as much right to life as any 
 other living thing. 
 
 9. " He was not a destructive animal, as the wolf and the 
 fox were ; he simply ate a few common vegetables, of which 
 they had plenty, and could well spare a part ; he destroyed 
 nothing except the little food he needed to sustain his humble 
 life; and that little food was as sweet to him, and as 
 necessary to his existence, as was to them the food upon his 
 mother's table. 
 
 10. " God furnished their own food ; he gave them all they 
 possessed ; and would they not spare a little for the dumb 
 creature, that really had as much right to his small share of 
 God's bounty, as they themselves had to their portion' ? 
 
 11. " Yea, more, the animal had never violated the laws of 
 his nature or the laws of God, as man often did ; but strictly 
 followed the simple, harmless instincts he had received from 
 the hand of the Creator of all things. Created by God's 
 hand, he had a right — a right from God — to life, to food, to 
 liberty; and they had no right to deprive him of either." 
 
 12. He alluded to the mute, but earnest pleadings of the 
 animal for that life, as sweet, as dear to him, as their own 
 was to them, and the just judgment they might expect, if, in 
 selfish cruelty and cold heartlessness, they took the life they 
 could not restore again — the life that God alone had given. 
 
 13. During this appeal, the tears had started to the old 
 
84 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 man's ejes, and were fast running down his sun-burnt cheeks : 
 every feeling of a father's heart was stirred within him ; he 
 sa^r the future greatness of his son before his eyes ; he felt 
 that God had blessed him in his children, beyond the lot of 
 most men. 
 
 14. His pity and sympathy were awakened by the eloquent 
 words of compassion, and the strong appeal for mercy ; and, 
 forgetting the judge in the man and father, he sprang from 
 his chair, (while Daniel was in the midst of his argument, 
 without thinking he had already won his case,) and, turning 
 to his older son, dashing the tears from his eyes, exclaimf'd, 
 ^^ Ezekiel^ Ezekiel, you let that woodchuck go P^ 
 
 Questions. — 1. What did Ezekiel propcJBe to do with the woodchuck 
 after he was caught? 2. What argument did he offer for so doing? 
 3. What did Daniel wish to do with him? 4. What argument did he 
 offer 7 5. What was their father's decision ? 
 
 LESSON XV. 
 
 Solve, explain ; work out J Con'' scious, self-perceived ; felt. 
 
 Prob' lem, question for solution. Dem on stra' tion, formal proof 
 
 Com pell' ed, obliged. Ee clin'ing, leaning back. 
 
 In' do lent, idle ; lazy. | Pon' der$, weighs ; examines. 
 
 1 Proc' ess, operation. 
 
 DO IT YOURSELF* 
 
 1. Do not ask the teacher or some classmate to solve that 
 hard problem. Do it yourself. You might as well let 
 him eat your dinner as "do your sums" for you. It is in 
 studying as in eating ; he who does it, gets the benefit, and 
 not he who sees it done. In almost any school, the teacher 
 learns more than the best scholars, simply because he is 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 85 
 
 compelled to solve all the difficult problems, and answer all 
 the questions of the indolent pupils. 
 
 2. Do not ask jour teacher to parse that difficult word, 
 or assist you in the performance of any of your studies. 
 Do IT YOURSELF. Never mind, though they do look dark. 
 Do not ask even a hint from any one. Try again. Every 
 trial increases your ability, and you will finally succeed by 
 dint of the very wisdom and strength gained in the effi)rt, 
 even though, at first, the problem was beyond your skill. 
 It is the study ^ and not the answer^ that really rewards 
 your labor. 
 
 3. Look at that boy, who has just succeeded, after six 
 hours of hard study. How his large eye is lit up with a 
 proud joy, as he marches to his class ! He treads like a 
 conqueror ! And well he may. Last night his lamp 
 burned, and this morning he waked at dawn. Once or 
 twice he nearly gave it up. He had tried his last thought; 
 but a new thought strikes him, and he ponders the last pro- 
 cess. He tries once more^ and succeeds; and now mark 
 the air of conscious strength with which he pronounces bis 
 demonstration. 
 
 4. His poor, weak schoolmate, who gave up that same 
 problem, after his first trial, now looks up to him wath 
 something of a wonder, as a superior being. And he is 
 his superior. That problem lies there, a great gulf between 
 those boys who stood side by side yesterday. 
 
 5. The boy who did it for himself has taken a stride 
 upward, and what is better still, has gained strength to 
 take other and better ones. The boy who waited to see 
 others do it, has lost both strength and courage, and is 
 already looking for some good excuse to give up school and 
 study-forever. 
 
 6. Do IT YOURSELF. Eemember the counsel given to the 
 
gg SAllfDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 artist, who lay reclining upon his couch, and wondering what 
 the fates would work out for him. Directing his attention 
 to a block of unhewn marble, with a chisel lying by its 
 side, the sculptor in the vision is represented as thus address- 
 ing him : " Sir, 
 
 "There's the marble, there's the chisel, 
 ^^ Take it, work it to thy will ; 
 
 Thou alone must shape thy future. 
 Heaven send thee strength and skill !" 
 
 Questions. — 1. "Who is benefited in studying ? 2. What really rewards 
 the labor of study ? 3. What is said of the boy who succeeded, after six 
 hours of hard study ? 4. What, of the boy who gave up, after the first 
 trial ? 5. What counsel was given to the artist who wondered what the 
 fates would work out for him ? 
 
 How are the words to be read, which are printed in Italics and in cap- 
 itals ? See page 22, Note III. 
 
 LESSON XVI. 
 
 Slack' EN, relax; lessen. j Ut' tee most, very best 
 
 En deav' or, effort ; exertion. > Dae' ing, courage ; bravery. 
 
 Whole' some, useful ; salutary. \ De fect', fault ; deficiency. 
 Ex cel', surpass ; outdo. Re pin' ing, fretting ; complaining. 
 
 Out strip' PED, outrun; excelled. > Un a vail' ing, vain; useless. 
 
 Sue pass' ed, excelled. \ Cor rect', amend ; make right 
 
 Vic' TO EY, conquest; triumph. ] Max' IM, proverb; saying. 
 
 BETTER LATE THAN NEVER* 
 
 1. Life is a race^ where some succeed, 
 While others are beginning ; 
 'Tis luck, at times, at others, speed, 
 That gives an early winning. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 87 
 
 But, if you chance to fall behind, 
 
 Ne'er slacken your endeavor ; 
 Just keep this wholesome truth in mind : 
 
 ' Tis better late than never ! 
 
 2. If you can keep ahead, 'tis well; 
 
 But never trip your neighbor ; 
 'Tis noble when you can excel 
 
 By honest, patient labor. 
 But, if you are outstripped, at last, 
 
 Press on, as bold as ever ; 
 Remember, though you are surpassed, 
 
 ' Tis better late than never ! 
 
 Ne'er labor for an idle boast 
 
 Of victory o'er another ; 
 But, while you strive your uttermost, 
 
 Deal fairly with a brother. 
 Whate'er your station, do your best. 
 
 And hold your purpose ever ; 
 And, if you fail to beat the rest, 
 
 ' Tis better late than never ! 
 
 4. Choose well the path in which you run, — 
 
 Succeed by noble daring ; 
 Then, though the last, when once 'tis won, 
 
 Your crown is worth the wearing. 
 Then never fret, if left behind, 
 
 Nor slacken your endeavor ; 
 But ever keep this truth in mind : 
 
 ' Tis better late than never ! 
 
88 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. Yet, would you cure this sad defect, 
 
 Repining's unavailing ; 
 Begin, at once, and now correct 
 
 This very common failing. 
 This day resolve, — this very hour^ 
 
 Nor e'en a moment wait ; 
 Go, make this better maxim yours, — 
 
 ' Tis better never late ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. To what is life compared, first verse ? 2. What advice 
 is given «/ you chance to fall heJiind? 3. How ought you to treat your com- 
 petitors? 4. What is a very common failing ? 5. How may it bo cor- 
 rected ? 6. What is the use of the apostrophe in the word repining^s, fifth 
 verse ? 
 
 LESSON XVII. 
 
 Adopt' ED, taken as one's own. s Thyme, (<me,) fragrant plant. 
 Pil' lar ED, supported by pillars. | Vine' yard, plantation of grape- 
 Twi' LIGHT, faint light after sunset Dye, hue ; color. [vines, 
 
 and before sunrise. \ Spark' ling, emitting bubbles. 
 
 THE ADOPTED CHXlcD. 
 
 Mbs. Hehani. 
 LADY. 
 
 Why wouldst thou leave me, gentle child ? 
 Thy home on the mountains is bleak and wild, 
 A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall ; 
 Mine is a fair and a pillared hall. 
 Where many an image of marble gleams. 
 And the sunshine of picture forever streams. 
 
 BOY. 
 
 ^ Oh, green is the turf where my brothers play, 
 Through the long, bright hours of the summer-day ; 
 
NUMBER FOUR. gg 
 
 They find the red cup-moss where they climb, 
 And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme ; 
 And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know, 
 Lady, kind lady ! oh, let me go ! 
 
 LADY. 
 Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell ; 
 Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well,— 
 Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, 
 Harps which the wandering breezes tune. 
 And the silvery wood-note of many a bird. 
 Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard. . 
 
 BOY. 
 
 My mother sings, at the twilight's fall, 
 A song of the hills, far more sweet than all ; 
 She sings it under our own green tree, 
 To the babe half-slumbering on her knee ; 
 I dreamed, last night, of that music low, — • 
 Lady, kind lady ! oh, let me go ! 
 
 LADY. 
 
 {pt) Thy mother hath gone from her cares to rest ; 
 She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast ; 
 Thou wouldst meet her footstep, my boy, no more. 
 Nor hear her song at the cabin- door : 
 Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh. 
 And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye. 
 
 BOY. 
 
 Is my mother gone from her home away' ? — 
 But T know that my brothers are there at play ; 
 
90 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 I know they are gathering the fox-glove's bell, 
 
 Or the long fern leaves by the sparkling well ; 
 
 Or they launch their boats where the bright streams flow, 
 
 Lady, kind lady ! oh, let me go ! 
 
 LADY. 
 
 Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now, 
 They sport no more on the mountain's brow ; 
 They have left the fern by the spring's green side, 
 And the streams where the fairy barks were tried : 
 Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot, 
 For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot. 
 
 BOY. 
 
 Are they gone, all gone from the sunny hill' ? 
 But the bird and the blue fly rove o'er it still, 
 And the red deer bound in their gladness free, 
 And the heath is bent by the singing bee. 
 And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow, — 
 Lady, kind lady ! oh, let me go ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What kind of words are straw-roofed^ heath-fiower, wood' 
 note, &c. ? 2. "What is the use of the apostrophes in the words o'er, we'er, 
 iwilighfs, &c.? 
 
 LESSON XVIII. 
 
 Ap par' ent lt, evidently. 
 
 Cen' tu ry, h\mdred years. 
 
 Gi oan' tic, very large. 
 
 Spe' cie$, sort ; kind. 
 
 Di men' sion, size ; bulk. 
 
 Sub lime', grand ; magnificent, [ance. 
 
 Olam' or ous, noisy ; importunate. 
 
 In de CIS' ION, doubt ; irresolution. 
 
 Poi$' ED, balanced. 
 
 At' mos phere, surrounding air. 
 
 Tal' on$, claws. 
 
 Dis tri bu' tion, division. 
 
 Un mo lest' ed, free from disturb- Eo' sta sy, excessive joy ; transport. 
 DiS PERS' ED, separated ; scattered. \ Per' SB cur ed, harassed ; injured. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 91 
 
 THE OLD EAGLE TREE* 
 
 Kev. John Todd. 
 
 1. In a remote field stood a large tulip tree, apparently 
 of a century's growth, and one of the most gigantic of that 
 splendid species. It looked like the father of the surround- 
 ing forest. A single tree, of huge dimensions, standing all 
 alone, is a sublime object. 
 
 2. On the top of this tree, an old eagle, commonly called 
 the "Fishing Eagle," had built her nest every year, for 
 many years, and, unmolested, raised her young. What is 
 remarkable, as she procured her food from the ocean, this 
 tree stood full ten miles from the sea-shore. It had, long 
 been known as the "Old Eagle tree." 
 
 3. On a warm, sunny day, the workmen were hoeing corn 
 in an adjoining field. At a certain hour of the day, the old 
 eagle was known to set off for the sea-side, to gather food for 
 her young. As she this day returned with a large fish in 
 her claws, the workmen surrounded the tree, and, by yell- 
 ing, and hooting, and throwing stones, so scared the poor 
 bird that she dropped her fish, and they carried it off in 
 triumph. 
 
 4. The men soon dispersed ; but Joseph sat down under 
 a bush near by, to watch, and to bestow unavailing pity. 
 The bird soon returned to her nest without food. The 
 eaglets at once set up a cry for food, so shrill, so clear, and 
 so clamorous, that the boy was greatly moved. 
 
 5. The parent bird seemed to try to soothe them; but 
 their appetites were too keen, and it was all in vain. She 
 then perched herself on a limb near them, and looked down 
 into the nest with a look that seemed to say, " I know not 
 what to do next." 
 
 6. Her indecision was but momentary ; again she poised 
 herself, uttered one or two sharp notes, as if telling them to 
 
.92 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ''lie Still," balanced her body, spread her wings, and was 
 awaj again for the sea ! 
 
 7. Joseph was determined to see the result. His eye fol- 
 lowed her till she grew small, smaller, — a mere speck in the 
 sky, — and then disappeared. What boy has not thus 
 watched the flight of the bird of his country in this way ? 
 
 8. She was gone nearly two hours, about double her 
 usual time for a voyage, when she again returned, on a 
 slow, weary wing, flying uncommonly low, in order to have 
 a heavier atmosphere to sustain her, with another fish in her 
 talons. 
 
 9. On nearing the field, she made a circuit around it, to 
 see it her enemies were again there. Finding the coast 
 clear, she once more reached her tree, drooping, faint, and 
 wearv, and evidently nearly exhausted. Again the eaglets 
 set up their cry, which was soon hushed by the distribution 
 of a dinner, such as — save the cooking — a king might ad- 
 mire. 
 
 10. "Glorious bird!" cried the boy in Ecstasy, and 
 aloud; "what a spirit! Other birds can fly swifter, others 
 can sing more sweetly, others can scream more loudly ; but 
 what other bird, when persecuted and robbed — when weary 
 — when discouraged — when so far from sea, — would do it ! 
 
 11. " Glorious bird ! I will learn a lesson from thee 
 to-day. I will never forget hereafter, that when the spirit 
 is determined, it can do almost any thing. Others would 
 have drooped and hung the head, and mourned over the 
 cruelty of man, and sighed over the wants of the nestlings ; 
 but thoit^ by at once recovering the loss, hast forgotten all. 
 
 12. "I will learn of thee, noble bird! I will remember 
 this. I will set my mark high. I will try to do something, 
 and to he something in the world ; / will never yield to dis^ 
 couraoementsJ'^ 
 
r^UMBER FOUR. 93 
 
 Questions. — 1. How far was this Old Eagle tree from the ^ea-shore ? 2. 
 In what way did the workmen obtain the fish she brought for her young ? 
 3. What is said of the eaglets and the parent bird, when she returned to 
 the nest? 4. What did she then do? 5. What did Joseph say when 
 she returned with another fish ? 
 
 LESSON XIX. 
 
 Aug' tion, vendue ; public sale. I Re verse' (re, back or again , YERSE, 
 
 Home' less, (less, without or destitute turn), turn back, or exchange places. 
 
 o/,) without home. < Acquire', gam; obtain. 
 
 Pen' ni less, destitute of pennies. Il lus tra' tion, explanation. 
 
 Waste' less, without waste. | Sol' i ta by, single. 
 
 Un light' ED, (uN, not,) not lighted. Dis pel', drive away ; disperse. 
 
 Self' isn ness, devoted to one's self, j Be night' ed, unenlightened. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF KNOWLEDGE* 
 
 Slihu Bubkitt. 
 
 1. Knowledge can not be stolen from you. It can not 
 be bought or sold. You may be poor^ and the sheriff come 
 into your house, and sell your furniture at auction, or drive 
 away your cow, or take your lamb, and leave you homeless 
 and penniless ; but he can not lay the law's hand upon the 
 jewelry of your mind. This can not be taken for debt; 
 neither cas you ^ive it away, though you give enough of it 
 to fill a million minds. 
 
 2. I will tell you what such giving is like. Suppose, 
 now, that there were no sun nor stars in the heavens, nor 
 any thing that shone in the black brow of night ; and sup- 
 pose that a lighted lamp were put into your hand, which 
 should burn wasteless and clear amid all the tempests that 
 should brood upon this lower world. 
 
 3. Suppose, next, that there were a thousand millions of 
 
94 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 human beings on the earth with you, each holding in his 
 hand an unlighted lamp, filled with the same oil as yours, 
 and capable of giving as much light. Suppose these millions 
 should come, one bj one, to you, and light each his lamp by 
 yours, would they rob you of any light' ? Would less of it 
 shine on your own path' ? Would your lamp burn more 
 dimly for lighting a thousand millions' ? 
 
 4. Thus it is, young friends. In getting rich in the 
 things which perish with the using, men have often obeyed 
 to the letter that first commandment of selfishness: '■''Keep 
 what you can get ^ and get what you canV In filling your 
 minds with the wealth of knowledge, you must reverse this 
 rule, and obey this law : " Keep what you give^ and give 
 what you can.'''' 
 
 5. The fountain of knowledge is filled by its outlets^ not 
 by its inlets. You can learn nothing which you do not 
 teach ; you can acquire nothing of intellectual wealth, except 
 by giving. In the illustration of the lamps, which I have 
 given you, was not the light of tbe thousands of millions 
 which were lighted at yours, as much your light, as if it all 
 came from your solitary lamp'? Did you not dispel dark- 
 ness by giving away light' ? 
 
 6. Remember this parable, and, whenever you fall in with 
 an unlighted mind in your walk of life, drop a kind and 
 glowing thought upon it from yours, and set it a-burning in 
 the world with a light that shall shine in some dark place to 
 beam on the benighted. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What is said of knowledge? 2. What is the giving of 
 knowledge like ? 3. In getting rich, what precept have men obeyed ? 4. 
 What precept must be obeyed in getting knowledge ? 5. How is knowl- 
 edge best acquired ? 6. What is meant by the jewelry of the mind, first 
 paragraph ? 7. What, by intellectual wealth, fifth paragraph ? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 95 
 
 LESSON XX. 
 
 Ex tin" guish ED, put out. •> Host, great multitude. 
 
 Sol' emn, graye ; serious. Ex' tra, additional. 
 
 Gar' ri son, fortress furnished with Ores' cent, form of the new moon. 
 
 soldiers, for defense. j Hail' ed, saluted. 
 
 Sen' ti nel, soldier on guard. Ef ful' gence, splendor. 
 
 Car' a van, company of traveling Re' gen cy, rule ; government. 
 
 traders or pilgrims. [stars. Wan' ing, decreasing. 
 
 Con stel la' tion$, clusters of fixed Sup pli ca' tion, prayer ; petition. 
 Brill' iant, shining; sparkling. J Rapt' ure, great joy; transport. 
 
 ^ Pal' es tine includes that part of Turkey in Asia, lying on the eastern 
 borders of the Mediterranean Sea. 
 
 NIGHT'S LESSONS. 
 
 L. II. SiGOtTRNEY. 
 
 1. The lessons of our school are over. The lights in the 
 distant windows are extinguished, one after the other. The 
 village will soon be lost in slumber. When all the men 
 and the women are asleep, must we keep awake to learn 
 lessons' ? 
 
 2. In large cities, there may be heard, now and then, the 
 rushing wheel of the traveler. The watchmen pace their 
 round, and cry, ^^All is welV.^^ In the long, cold nights 
 of Norway, the watchmen who guard the capitol, pronounce, 
 in a solemn tone, " God bless our good city of Bergen !"' 
 
 3. In the garrison, or the endangered fortress, the armed 
 sentinel keeps watch, lest they should be surprised by the 
 foe. But in this peaceful village there is no need of either 
 sentinel or watchman. Why may we not go to sleep, instead 
 of learning Night's lessons? 
 
 4. My son, one of these you may learn in a moment. Did 
 you say that all will soon be sleeping'? No^ ! there is one 
 Eye that never slumbers. He who made all the people, 
 
96 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 keepeth watch above the everlasting hills. Commit yourself 
 tc His care. 
 
 5. Now, will you learn with me the second lesson of the 
 night' ? Lift your eyes to yon glorious canopy\ Seest thou 
 not there a sentinel, set by the Eternal, at the northern gate 
 of heaven', — the pole-star'? 
 
 6. The pole-starM Blessings are breathed upon it, by 
 the weary caravan, fearing the poisonous wind of the desert, 
 — by the red forest-children, seeking their home beyond the 
 far Western prairies, — and by the lonely mariner, upon the 
 pathless ocean. 
 
 7. The stars^ ! See them^ 1 The oil in their lamps 
 never burns out. These glorious constellations wheel their 
 mighty course unchanged, while "man dieth and wasteth 
 away, yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he?"^ 
 
 8. Yon brilliant orbs maintain their places, while count- 
 less generations pass away, and nations disappear and are 
 forgotten. Let us bow in humility before " Him who bring- 
 eth out their host by number, who calleth them all by 
 names, by the greatness of His might, for that He is strong 
 in power; not one faileth."f 
 
 9. Thirteen times in the year, Night, the teacher, gives 
 extra lessons. Will you be there to learn them ? First, 
 she hangs up a pale crescent in the west. The ancient 
 Jews hailed its infant beam, and answering fires of joy were 
 kindled on the hills of Palestine.' 
 
 10. Kext, she summons forjh a rounded orb, clad in full 
 effulgence, and commits to it the regency when the sun re- 
 tires. Lastly, a slender, waning crescent appears nightly, 
 like an aged man, ready to descend into the night of the 
 tomb. 
 
 * Job, 14th chap., 10th verse. f Isaiah, 40th chap., 26th verse. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. yj 
 
 11. ^' Soon, as the evening shades prevail, 
 The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
 And nightly to the listening earth, 
 Eepeats the story of her birth ; 
 While all the stars that round her burn, 
 And all the planets in their turn, 
 Confirm the tidings as they roll. 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole.'' 
 
 12. These are some of Night's lessons. Are you tired 
 of them' ? Or, will you learn one more^ ? Lift up your 
 heart to Him who has given you the past day, with thanks 
 for its blessings, — with penitence for its faults, — with sup- 
 plication for strength and wisdom for the time that is 
 to come. 
 
 13. " Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto 
 night showeth knowledge"'*' of God. Thus, meekly and 
 faithfully studying Night's lessons, may we find 
 
 "Even sorrow, touched by Heaven, grows brigjit 
 With more than rapture's ray, 
 As darkness shows us worlds of light. 
 We never saw by day." 
 
 Questions. — 1. Who watches over us when asleep ? 2. In what way is tho 
 pole-star useful to man ? 3. What is said of the stars ? 4. What extra 
 lessons is it that night gives, thirteen times a year? 5. Describe the first 
 appearance of tho moon. 6. How does it next appear ? 7. Where is Pal- 
 estine? 8. Where are the passages to be found, quoted in the 7th, 8th, 
 and 13th paragraphs ? 9. Do you know who is the author of the 11th 
 verse? Ans. Addison. 
 
 * Psalm 19th, 2d verse. 
 4U 6 
 
t 
 
 98 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XXI, 
 
 Hid' den, secret ; concealed. j Yearn' eth, longetb. 
 Quail, sink; droop. Chant, sing; carol. 
 
 Scorn' ing, disdaining. Port' al, entrance ; gate-way. 
 
 Greet' ing, salutation. Cheer' y, gay ; lively. 
 
 View' less, that can not be seen, i E ter' ni ty, endless duration. 
 
 NATURE^S TEACHINGS. 
 
 Chambeks' Jouekai- 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 1. Sun-light' ! tell the hidden meaning 
 Of the rajs thou lettest fall ; 
 Are they lessons writ in burning, 
 Like God's warning on the walF ? 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 Strive, man, to let a loving 
 Spirit cheer the sad and poor ; 
 So shall many a fair hope blossom, 
 Where none grew before ! 
 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 2. Stars' ! what is it ye would whisper, 
 With your pure and holy light ? 
 Looking down so calm and tender 
 •From the watch-tower of the night. 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 When thy soul would quail from scorning, 
 Keep a brave heart and a bold ; 
 As we always shine the brightest 
 When the nights are cold. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 99 
 
 EIRST VOICE. 
 
 3. Hast thou not a greeting for me, 
 Heaven's own happy minstrel-bird'? 
 Thou whose voice, like some sweet angel's, 
 Viewless, in the cloud is heard' ? 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 Though thy spirit yearneth sky-ward, 
 Oh, forget not human worth ! 
 I, who chant at heaven's portal, 
 Build my nest on earth. 
 
 rmsT VOICE. 
 
 4. Biver ! river' ! singing gnyly 
 From the hill-side all day long, 
 Teach my heart the merry music 
 Of thy cheery, rippling soiig. 
 
 SECOND VOICE. ' 
 
 Many winding ways I follow ; 
 Yet, at length, I reach the sea. 
 Man, remember that thy ocean 
 Is Eternity ! 
 
 QrESTiONS. — 1. "What is meant by God^s warning on the wall ? See the 
 5th chap, of Daniel. 2. What is meant by minstrel-bird? Ans. The lark. 
 
 LESSON XXII. 
 
 Glare, dazzling light. ( Re morse', painful regret. 
 
 Blithe' lt, gayly ; joyfully. ) Wane, decrease ; grow less. 
 
 Wrought, worked ; labored. i Fan' cie$, whims ; notions. 
 
 A NON.' is an abbreviation of anonymoics, which means without name; 
 nameless. See Sanders' Analysis, page 88, Exercise \08. 
 
100 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 SOWING AND HARVESTING* 
 
 Anox. 
 
 1. They are sowing their seed in the daylight fair, 
 They are sowing their seed in the noonday's glare, 
 They are sowing their seed in the soft twilight, 
 They are sowing their seed in the solemn night; 
 
 What shall their harvest be ? 
 
 2. They are sowing their seed of pleasant thought. 
 
 In the spring's green light they have blithely wrought; 
 They have brought their fancies from wood and dell. 
 Where the mosses creep, and the flower-buds swell ; 
 Rare shall the harvest be ! 
 
 3. They are sowing the seeds of word and deed. 
 Which the cold know not, nor the careless heed, — 
 Of the gentle word and the kindest deed. 
 
 That have blessed the heart in its sorest need ; 
 Sweet shall the harvest be ! 
 
 4. And some are sowing the seeds of pain. 
 Of late remorse, and in maddened brain ; 
 
 And the stars shall fall, and the sun shall wane, 
 Ere they root the weeds from the soil again ; 
 Da?^k will the harvest be ! 
 
 5. And some are standing with idle hand, 
 Yet they scatter seeds on their native land ; 
 And some are sowing the seeds of care, 
 Which their soil has borne, and still must bear; 
 
 Sad will the harvest be ! 
 
NUMBER FOUR. . ^^jj 
 
 6. They are sowing the seed of noble deed, ''*'*' 
 With a sleepless watch and an earnest heed ; 
 With a ceaseless hand o'er the earth they sow, 
 And the fields are whitening where'er they go ; 
 Rich will the harvest be ! 
 
 7. Sown in darkness, or sown in light, 
 Sown in weakness, or sown in might. 
 Sown in meekness, or sown in wrath, 
 In the broad work-field, or the shadowy path. 
 Sure will the harvest be ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. Who are meant by they in this lesson ? 2. What is said 
 of those who are sowing the seeds of word and deed ? 3. What, of those 
 who are sowing the seeds of care? 4. Repeat the last verse. 5. What 
 passage of Scripture teaches the same idea ? Ans. " Whatsoever a man 
 Boweth, that shall he also reap." — Gal , 6th chap., 7th verse. 
 
 LESSON XXIII. 
 
 For' ti fi ed, strengthened by works 
 
 of art for defense. 
 Sul' try, close ; oppressively hot. 
 Boat' swain, one who has charge 
 
 of a ship's boats, rigging, &c. 
 Tar$, sailors. 
 Moor' ed, anchored. 
 BuOY$, floats. [ing ships. 
 
 An' chor, iron instrument for hold- 
 Star' board, right side of a ship. 
 
 Fore' gas tle, short deck in the foro 
 
 Wake, track. [part of a ship. 
 
 Be reft', deprived. 
 
 Im' mi nent, impending. 
 
 PiERc' ED, went through. 
 
 Fore and aft, before and behind. 
 
 Sway' ed, swung; moved. 
 
 Oar' CASS, dead body. 
 
 Ex cite' ment, agitation. 
 
 Pha' $e$, forms; appearances. 
 
 * Sa ha' ra, is a Great Desert in Africa, lying south of the Barbarv States, 
 and extending from the Atlantic on the west to Egypt and Nul)ia on the 
 east. The winds that cotne from this desert, are hot, and suflfocatiug. 
 
102 SfNDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Anox. 
 
 1. Our noble ship lay at anchor in the Bay of Tangier, 
 a fortified town in the extreme northwest of Africa. The 
 daj had been extremely mild, with a gentle breeze sweep- 
 ing to the northward and westward ; but, toward the close 
 of the afternoon, the sea-breeze died away, and one of those 
 sultry, oven-like breathings came from the great, sun-burnt 
 Sahara. ^ 
 
 2. Half an hour before sundown, the captain gave the 
 cheering order for the boatswain to call the hands to "go in 
 swimming," and, in less than five minutes, the forms of our 
 tars were seen leaping from the arms of the lower yards, 
 into the water. One of the studding sails, with its corners 
 suspended from the main yard-arm and the swin^yin*:' boom 
 had been lowered into the water, and into this most of the 
 swimmers made their way. 
 
 3. Among those who seemed to be enjoying the sport most 
 heartily, were two of the boys, Timothy Wallace and Fred- 
 eric Fairbanks, the latter of whom was the son of our old 
 gunner, and, in a laughing mood, they started out from the 
 studding sail on a race. There was a loud ringing shout of 
 joy on their lips as they put ofi*, and they darted through 
 the water like fishes. The surfiice of the sea was smooth as 
 glass, though its bosom rose in long, heavy swells that set in 
 from the Atlantic. 
 
 4. The vessel was moored with a long sweep from both 
 cables, and one of the buoys of the anchor was far away on 
 the starboard quarter, where it rose and fell with the lazy 
 swells of the waves. Toward this buoy the two lads made 
 their way, young Fairbanks taking the lead ; but, when they 
 were within about twenty or thirty fathoms of the buoy, 
 Wallace shot ahead, and promised to win the race. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ' ' 1Q^ 
 
 5. The old gunner had watched the progi'es^ 'of iiis little 
 son with a great degree of pride, and when he saw him drop 
 behind, he leaped upon the quarter-deck, and wa§ just upon 
 the point of urging him on by a shout, when a cry was heard 
 that struck him with instant horror. 
 
 6. "J. shark! a shark P'' was sounded from the captain 
 of the forecastle, and, at the sound of these terrible words, 
 the men who were in the water, leaped and plunged toward 
 the ship. Right abeam, at the distance of three or four 
 cables' lengths, was seen the wake of a shark in the water, 
 where the back of the monster was visible. His course was 
 for the boys. 
 
 7. For a moment, the gunner stood like one bereft of 
 reason ; but, on the next, he shouted at the top of his voice, 
 for the boys to turn ; but they heard him not. Stoutly the 
 two swimmers strove for the goal, all unconscious of their 
 imminent danger. Their merry laugh still rang over the 
 waters, and, at length, they both touched the buoy together. 
 
 8. Oh, what agony filled the heart of the gunner ! A 
 boat had put off, but he knew that it could not reach the 
 boys in season, and every moment he expected to see the 
 monster sink from sight, — then he knew that all hope would 
 be gone. At this moment, a cry reached the ship, that 
 pierced every heart, — the boys had discovered their enemy ! 
 
 9. The cry started the old gunner to his senses, and 
 quicker than thought, he sprang from the quarter-deck. 
 The guns were all loaded and shotted, fore and aft, and none 
 knew their temper better than he. With steady hand, made 
 strong by sudden hope, the old gunner seized a priming-wire 
 and picked the cartridge of one of the quarter guns ; then 
 he took from his pocket a percussion cap, fixed it in its 
 place, and set back the hammer of the patent lock. 
 
 10. With a giant strength the old man swayed the breech 
 
104 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ' 'of ^t!ie lieav^j guti to its bearing, and then seizing tbe string 
 of the lock, he stood back and watched for the next swell 
 that would bring the shark in range. He had aimed the 
 piece some distance ahead of his mark ; but yet a little 
 moment would settle his hopes and fears. 
 
 11. Every breath was hushed, and every heart in that old 
 ship beat painfully. The boat was yet some distance fi-om 
 the boys, while the horrid sea-monster was fearfully near. 
 Suddenly the air was rent by the roar of the heavy gun, 
 and, as the old man knew his shot was gone, he sank back 
 upon the hatch, and covered his face with his hands, as if 
 afraid to see the result of his own efforts; for, if he had 
 failed, he knew that his boy was lost. 
 
 12. For a moment after the report of the gun had died 
 away upon the air, there was an unbroken silence; but, as 
 the dense smoke arose from the surface of the water, there 
 was, at first, a low murmur breaking from the lips of the 
 men,--that murmur grew louder and stronger, till it swelled 
 to a joyous, deafening shout. The old gunner sprang to his 
 feet, and gazed off on the water, and the first thing that met 
 his view, was the huge carcass of the shark, floating on his 
 back — a, mangled, lifeless mass. 
 
 13. In a few moments, the boat reached the daring swim- 
 mers, and, greatly frightened, they were brought o^ board. 
 The old man clasped his boy in his arms, and then, over- 
 come by the powerful excitement, he leaned upon a gun fop 
 support. I have seen men in all the phases of excitement 
 and suspense, but never have I seen three human beings 
 more overcome by thrilling emotions, that on that startling 
 moment when they first knew the effect of our gunner's shot. 
 Questions.—!. Where is the town of Tangier? 2. What order had been 
 given by the captain of the vessel? 3. Who seemed most to enjoy the 
 sport ? 4. What is said of the old gunner ? 5. What did he do ? G. What 
 effect did his shot produce? t. Describe the closing scene. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 105 
 
 LESSON XXIV. 
 
 DiS Gui$E', concealment. J Sal' a ry, wages ; allowance for 
 
 Wat' laid, beset by the way. j services. 
 
 Threat' en ed, declared the inten- In volv' ixg, entangling. 
 
 Incline', dispose. [tion. Be wil' der ed, puzzled ; perplexed. 
 
 Ruf'fian$, robbers; murderers. Log' ic, reasoning. 
 
 Dis trie' ute, divide ; apportion. Sage, wise man. 
 
 Treas' UR Y, place for keeping money.! Ful fill' ing, performing. 
 
 Alm$, gifts ; donations. B va' sign, departure from truth. 
 
 Mi' $ER ly, covetous; niggardly. ] Deceit', deception; fraud. 
 
 THE TRUTHFUL KING. 
 
 1. A CERTAIN Persian king, while traveling in disguise, 
 with but few attendants^ was waylaid by robbers, who 
 threatened to take not only his goods, but his life. 
 
 2. Feeling himself beyond the reach of human aid, he 
 inwardly made a vow, that if God would incline the hearts 
 of these ruffians to mercy, and restore him in safety to his 
 family and people, he would distribute all the money then 
 in his treasury, in alms to the needy of his realm. 
 
 3. The robbers, from some unknown cause, liberated him, 
 and he soon reached home in safety, having sustained no 
 injury, save the loss of the small purse of gold that he had 
 carried in his girdle.- 
 
 4. Desirous of keeping the vow he had made, he sum- 
 moned his officers, and commanded them to make immediate 
 distribution to the poor, of all that the treasury contained, 
 at the time of his return. 
 
 5. But his officers, more miserly than himself, and, fear- 
 ful that they might fall short in their salaries and pensions, 
 began to urge upon the monarch the folly of keeping this 
 rash vow, and the danger of thus involving himself and his 
 kingdom in difficulties. 
 
 4 U 6* 
 
1QQ SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 6. Finding he still remained firm, they took other grounds, 
 and plausibly argued that the troops and other officials 
 needed aid as well as the poor ; and, as by the words of his 
 vow, he had bound himself to distribute the contents of the 
 treasury to those who had claim to relief, the public servants 
 certainly came within the required limits. 
 
 7. Bewildered by their false logic, and sincerely desirous 
 of doing right, he appealed to a certain sage, who dwelt near 
 the royal palace, and determined to abide by his decision. 
 
 8. The sage, after hearing the case, only asked the follow- 
 ing, simple question : "Of whom were you thinking when 
 you made the vow, — the poor, or the public servants?" The 
 monarch replied, '' Of the poor." " Then," answered the 
 sage, "it is to the poor you are bound to distribute these 
 funds ; for you are not rea//y fulfilling your vow, unless 
 you do that which you intended to do when it was made." 
 The king was satisfied that this was the right decision, and 
 did as the sage advised. 
 
 9. Let the young bear in mind that God is a being of 
 truth, requiring truth in the inward heart ; and, if they 
 w^ould have His approval, and that of their own consciences, 
 they must avoid not only the outivard appearance of false- 
 hood, but the slightest evasion or deceit ; and when promises 
 have been made, fulfill not only the leHer, but the spirit of 
 that which they agreed to perform. 
 
 10. Beware of the first and slightest departure from truth, 
 of the least endeavor to deceive, and even of the desire to 
 have others believe what is not so. Let your motto be, 
 " The truth ^ the whole truths and nothing hut the truths 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What happened to a certain Persian king? 2. What 
 vow did he then make? 3. What objection did his officers make to this? 
 4. What did the king then do ? 5. What was the sage's decision ? 6. 
 What motto ought you to adopt ? "7. What rule for spelling the word travel- 
 ing with one li See Sanders & McElligott's Analysis, page 13, Rule 10. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 107 
 
 LESSON XXV. 
 
 Ent!c'e$, allures; leads astray. ^ Fore go', give up; renounce. 
 Pre' text, pretense ; false reason. } Mam' mon, god of wealth ; riches. 
 Pro fane', pollute ; defile. In dig' nant, with anger ; disdain- 
 
 Temp ta' tion, allurement. Lu' ore, - gain ; profit. [fully. 
 
 In' ly, within ; in the heart. Em pri$e', enterprise ; undertaking. 
 
 Db clare$, says ; asserts. Sure' ty, security. 
 
 Chafe, vex; provoke. , ver throw', subvert ; destroy. 
 
 Mal' ice, hatred ; malevolence. Con tempt', scorn ; disdain. 
 
 Av' A rice, excessive love of money.? Sor' cer ess, enchantress. 
 Ex pel', (ex, out; pel, to drive,) drive out; banish. 
 Re $ist', (re, again ; sist, to stand,) stand again ; hence, to withstand. 
 See Sanders and McElligott's Analysis, page 90, Ex. 113 ; also, page 
 110, Ex. 142. 
 
 WHEN SHALL I A IS S W E R N ? 
 
 J. N. McElligott. 
 
 1. When Falsehood fair entices thee 
 
 Against the truth to go, 
 No matter what the pretext be. 
 Be thy firm answer, — No ! 
 
 2. When Rashness would thy tongue profane 
 
 With language vile and low, 
 0, make the gross temptation vain, 
 By answering inly, — No ! 
 
 3. When Pride the silly wish declares. 
 
 That thou should'st fashion know, 
 And lifts thy head with empty airs, 
 Be wise, and answer, — No ! 
 
 4. When Envy would thy spirit chafe, 
 
 That others prosper so, 
 On calm contentment resting safe, 
 Expel her with a — No ! 
 
JOS 
 
 SANDERS' UNIOJSf SERIES. 
 
 6. Wben Malice foul, or deadly Hate, 
 Would turn thee on a foe, 
 And dark, revengeful thirst create, 
 In horror answer, — No ! 
 
 6. When sluggish Sleep, with folded arms, 
 
 Would make thee health forego, 
 (") Rise up at once, resist her charms ; 
 Act out the answer, — No ! 
 
 7. When Avarice would, with heartless speed, 
 
 Shut out the sight of woe, 
 And whisper joy from Mammon's greed, 
 Indignant answer, — No ! 
 
 8. When filthy Lucre lifts her hand, 
 
 Ungodly gains to show, 
 Though she should promise all the land. 
 Be thy prompt answer, — No I 
 
 9. When greedy Gain, or rash Emprise, 
 
 Would have thee surety go, 
 Keep Wisdom's words* before thine eyes. 
 And firmly answer, — No ! 
 
 10. When mad Ambition would seduce 
 
 The right to overthrow, 
 And turn the selfish passions loose, 
 In mercy answer, — No ! 
 
 11. When foul Contempt of Holy Writ 
 
 Would in thy bosom sow 
 The wish to be where scorners sit,f 
 Let Conscience answer, — No ! 
 
 * Prov., 11th Cliap., 15th. verso. f 1st Psalm, 1st verse. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 109 
 
 12. When Sin, indeed, whate'er her stjle, 
 Would have thee with her go, 
 Stay not to hear the Sorceress vile, 
 But leave her with a— No ! 
 
 LESSON XXVI. 
 
 Pe ru$e', read ; study. j Ru' by, precious stone. 
 
 Al lot' ted, assigned. Pup' pet, little image. 
 
 Me rid' I AN, noon ; mid-day. De ter' mine, decide ; find out. 
 
 Gen' u ine, true ; real. Er' mine, fine fur — (of the ermine.) 
 
 Art' ful, cunning ; crafty, [feited. Cap' tor, one who takes a prize. 
 
 Mim' ick ED, pretended ; counter- Scep' ter$, emblems of authority. 
 
 Pre $ide', have sway or rule. { Cha' ry, careful ; wary. 
 
 De mer' it, ill-desert ; defect. ^ Mys' tic, secret ; mysterious. 
 
 "We have seldom seen any thing so full of wit, truth, and practical wis- 
 dom, as this poem inscribed 
 
 TO MASTERS ROBERT AND JOHN. 
 
 Davis. 
 
 1. Take this book, mj boys, 
 
 Earnestly peruse it ; 
 Much of after lies 
 
 In the way ye use it: 
 Keep it neat and clean ; 
 
 For, remember, in it. 
 Every stain that's seen, 
 
 Marks a thoughtless minute. * 
 
 2. Life is like a book, 
 
 Time is like a printer, 
 Darting now his look 
 
 Where has gloomed no winter. 
 
IIQ SAlSfDERS' UHION SERIES, 
 
 Thus he'll look, and on, 
 Till each page allotted, 
 
 Robert, thee and John, 
 Printed be or blotted. 
 
 3. Youth's a sunny beam, 
 
 Dancing o'er a river, 
 With a flashing gleam, 
 
 Then away forever. 
 Use it while ye may. 
 
 Not in childish mourning,- 
 Not in childish play. 
 
 But in useful learning. 
 
 4. As your years attain 
 
 Life's meridian brightness, 
 Hourly seek and gain 
 
 Genuine politeness : 
 This lives not in forms. 
 
 As too many teach us,— 
 Not in open arms, 
 
 Not in silken speeches, 
 
 5. Not in haughty eye, 
 
 Not in artful dealing, 
 Not within the sigh 
 
 Of a mimicked feeling: 
 But its lights preside 
 
 Rich in nature's splendor, 
 Over honest pride. 
 
 Gentleness and candor. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. H-^ 
 
 6. Slight ye not the soul 
 
 For the frame's demerit ; 
 Oft a shattered bowl 
 
 Holds a mighty spirit: 
 Never search a breast 
 
 By thy ruby's glances; 
 Pomp's a puppet guest, 
 
 Danced by circumstances. 
 
 7. What is good and great, 
 
 Sense can soon determine; 
 Prize it though ye meet, 
 
 Or in rags or ermine. 
 Fortune's truly blind; 
 
 Fools may be her captors; 
 But the wealth of mind 
 
 Stands above their scepters. 
 
 8. Value not the lips 
 
 Swiftest kept in motion ; 
 Fleetly-sailing ships 
 
 Draw no depth of ocean : 
 Snatch the chary gleam. 
 
 From the cautious knowing; 
 For the deepest stream 
 
 Scarcely lisps 'tis flowing. 
 
 9. Cull from bad and good 
 
 Every seeming flower, 
 Store it up as food 
 
 For some hungry hour: 
 
112 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Press its every leaf, 
 
 And remember, Johnnj, 
 Even weeds the chief 
 
 May have drops of honej. 
 
 10. Pomp and power alone 
 
 Never make a blessing; 
 Seek not e'en a throne 
 
 By one wretch distressing. 
 Better toil a slave 
 
 For the blood-earned penny. 
 Than be rich, and have 
 
 A curse on every guinea. 
 
 11. Think, my gentle boys, 
 
 Every man a brother ! 
 Thafs where hojior lies, 
 
 Nay, but greatness rather: 
 One's the mystic whole, 
 
 Lordly flesh won't know it; 
 But the kingly soul. 
 
 Sees but vice below it. 
 
 12. Robert, thoughts like these. 
 
 Store you more than money ; 
 Read them not to please. 
 
 But to practice, Johnny. 
 Artless though their dress, 
 
 As an infant's dimple. 
 Truth is none the less 
 
 For being truly simple. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What did the writer tell Robert and John to do with tbi^ 
 book, given them ? 2. What use did he tell them to make of Youth ? 
 
 X 
 
NUMBER FOUR 
 
 113 
 
 LESSON XXVII. 
 
 Av A Ri" ciOUS, greedy after gain. 
 In' ti mate, close in friendship. 
 Ea' ger NESS, ardent desire. 
 Fru gal' I TY, wise economy. 
 Ac QUI si" tion$, gains. 
 Af' flu ence, great wealth. 
 Sue CEs' SION, regular order. 
 Moil' ing, drudging; laboring. 
 Dis CON tin' u ED, ceased. 
 
 As si du' i ty, untiring diligence. 
 Dis gust' ED, greatly dissatisfied. 
 In dulg' ED, gratified. 
 Mon' strous, very large. 
 Sue ceed' ing, following. 
 Mat' took, pick-ax. 
 Un der mine', dig under. 
 0' MEN, sign ; token. 
 Im ag' in ED, conceived. 
 
 WHAMG, THE MILLER* 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 1. Whang, the miller, was naturally avaricious ; nobody 
 loved money better than he, or more respected those that had 
 it. When people would talk of a rich man in company, 
 Whang would say, "/ know him very well: he and / have 
 been very long acquainted ; Jie and / are intimate." 
 
 2. But, if a poor man was mentioned, he had not the 
 least knowledge of the man ; he might be very well, for aught 
 he knew ; but he was not fond of making many acquaint- 
 ances, and loved to choose his company. 
 
 3. Whang, however, with all his eagerness for riches, was 
 poor. He had nothing but the profits of his mill to support 
 him ; but, though these were small, they were certain : while 
 it stood and went he was sure of eating ; and his frugality 
 was such, that he, every day, laid some money by ; which 
 he would, at intervals^ count and contemplate with much 
 satisfaction. 
 
 4. Yet still his acquisitions were not equal to his desires ; 
 he only found himself above want : whereas he desired to be 
 possessed of afflaence. One day, as he was indulging these 
 wishes, he was informed that a neighbor of his had found a 
 
114 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 pan of money under ground, having dreamed of it three 
 nights in succession. 
 
 5. These tidings were daggers to the heart of poor Whang. 
 "Here am I/' said he, "toiling and moiling from morning 
 to night for a few paltry farthings, while neighbor Thanks 
 only goes quietly to bed, and dreams himself into thousands' 
 before morning. Oh, that I could dream like him ! With 
 what pleasure would I dig round the pan ! How slily would 
 I carry it home ! Not even my wife should see me. And 
 then, oh the pleasure of thrusting one's hands into a heap of 
 gold up to the elbows !" 
 
 6. Such reflections only served to make the miller un- 
 happy. He discontinued his former assiduity ; he w^as quite 
 disgusted with small gains ; and Ids customers began to for- 
 sake him. Every day be repeated the wish, and every night 
 laid himself down in order to dream. ^Fortune, that was for 
 a long time unkind, at last, however, seemed to smile upon 
 his distress, and indulged him with the wished-for vision. 
 
 7. He dreamed that under a certain part of the foundation 
 of his mill, there was concealed a monstrous pan of gold and 
 diamonds, buried deep in the ground, and covered with a 
 large, flat stone. He concealed his good luck from every 
 person, as is usual in money-dreams, in order to have the 
 vision repeated the two succeeding nights, by which he 
 should be certain of ^ts truth. His wishes in this, also, were 
 answered; he still dreamed of the same pan of money, in 
 the very same place. 
 
 8. Now, therefore, it was past a doubt ; so, getting up 
 early the third morning, he repaired, alone, with a mattock 
 in his hand, to the mill, and began to undermine that part 
 of the wall to which the vision directed. The first omen of 
 success that he met with, was a broken ring ; digging still 
 deeper, he turned up a house-tile, quite new and entire. 
 
IVUMBER FOUR. ^15 
 
 9. At last, after much digging, he came to a broad, flat 
 stone ; but then it was so large, that it was beyond his 
 strength to remove it. "TOere," cried he in raptures to 
 himself, ^^ there it is! under this stone, there is room for a 
 very large pan of diamonds indeed. I must e'en go home 
 to my wife, and tell her the whole affair, and get her to assist 
 me in turning it up." Away, therefore, he goes, and ac- 
 quaints his wife with every circumstance of their good 
 fortune. 
 
 10. Her raptures, on this occasion, may easily be imagined ; 
 she flew round his neck, and embraced him in an agony of 
 joy. But these transports, however, did not allay their 
 eagerness to know the exact sum ; returning, together, to 
 the place where Whang had been digging, there they found — 
 not, indeed, the expected treasure — but the mill, their only 
 support, undermined and fallen ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. Upon what was Whang, the miller, dependent for sup- 
 port? 2. Why was he not satisfied ? 3. What did he say to himself, after 
 the information he had received from a neighbor ? 4. What eflfect had such 
 reflections upon him? 5. What did he dream three nights successively? 
 6. What did he do? 1. What was the result? 
 
 ^^'--^^^^^^'^^^^^ 
 
 LESSON XXVIII. 
 
 Po lite' NESS, good manners. \ Arch' i tects, {ch, like yfc,) builders. 
 
 Ei del' I TY, faithfulness, Sa li' va, spittle. [exude. 
 
 In cu ba' tion, act of hatching eggs. Se crete', discharge by the glands ; 
 Rec re a' tion, pastime ; amusement. Con" gre gate, collect together. 
 Db mure' ly, gravely; with affected Fledg' ed, furnished with feathers. 
 
 modesty. Do main', realm ; kingdom. 
 
 Ap pre CI a' tion, estimate. Ac com mo da' tion$, conveniences. 
 
 Lithe, nimble; flexible. | Mi' grate, remove; travel. 
 
 Ex' it, departure; going out. 1 Sphere, {ph like/) circuit of action. 
 
116 ' SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 CHIMMEY-SWALLOWS* 
 
 IIenky Waed Beecitee. 
 
 1. Every one knows, who lives in the country, what a 
 chimney-swallow is. They are among the birds that seem 
 to love the neighborhood of man. Many birds there are, 
 that nestle confidingly in the protection of their superiors, 
 and are seldom found nesting or breeding far from human 
 habitations. 
 
 2. The wren builds close to your door. Sparrows and 
 robins, if well treated, Avill make their nests right under 
 your window, in some favorite tree, and will teach you, if 
 you choose to go into the business, how to build birds' nests. 
 
 3. A great deal of politeness and fidelity may be learned. 
 The female bird is waited upon, fed, cheered with singing, 
 during her incubation, in a manner that might give lessons 
 to the household. Nay, w^hen she needs exercise and recre- 
 ation, her husband very demurely takes her place, and keeps 
 the eggs warm in the most gentlemanly way. 
 
 4. Barn-swallows have a very sensible appreciation of 
 the pleasures of an ample barn. A barn might not be found 
 quite the thing to live in, (although we have seen many a 
 place where we would take the barn sooner than the house,) 
 but it is one of the most charming places in a summer day 
 to lounge, read, or nap in. 
 
 5. And, as you lie on your back upon the sweet-scented 
 hay-mow, or upon clean straw thrown down on the great 
 floor, reading books of natui-al history, it is very pleasant to 
 see the flitting swallows glance in and out, or course about 
 under the roof, with motion so lithe and rapid as to seem 
 more like the glancing of shadows than the winging of 
 birds. Their mud-nests are clean, if they are made of 
 dirt ; and you would never dream, from their feathers, what 
 sort of a house they lived in. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. • H^ 
 
 6. But, it was of chimne?j- swallows lb at we begm to 
 write ; and they are just now roaring in the little, stubbed 
 chimney behind us, to remind us of our duty. Every even- 
 ing we hear them ; for a nest of young ones brings the 
 parents in with food, early and late, and every entrance or 
 exit is like a distant roll of thunder, or like those okl- 
 fashioned rumblings of high winds in the chimney, which 
 made us children think that all out-of-doors was coming 
 down the chimney in stormy nights. 
 
 7. These little architects build their simple nests upon 
 the sides of the chimney with sticks, which they are said to 
 break off from dead branches of trees, though they might 
 more easily pick them up already prepared. But they, 
 doubtless, have their own reasons for cutting their own 
 timber. Then these are glued to the wall by a saliva which 
 they secrete, so that they carry their mortar in their. mouths, 
 and use their bills for trowels. 
 
 8. When the young are ready to leave, the}^ climb up the 
 chimney to the top, by means of their sharp claws, aided by 
 their tail-feathers, which are short, stiff, and at the end 
 armed with sharp spines. Two broods are reared in a 
 season. From the few which congregate in any one neigh- 
 borhood, one would not suspect the great numbers which 
 assemble at the end of the season. Audubon estimated that 
 ni?ie thousand entered a large sycamore-tree, every night, 
 to roost, near Louisville, Kentucky. 
 
 9. Sometimes the little nest has been slighted in building, 
 or the weight proves too great, and down it comes into the 
 fire-place, to the great amusement of the children, who are 
 all a-fever to hold in their hands these clean, bright-eyed 
 little fellows. Who would suspect that they had ever been 
 bred in such a flue ? 
 
 10. And it was just this thought that set us to writ- 
 
113 SANDERS' UJilGN SERIES. 
 
 ing. Because a bird lives in a chimney, he need not be 
 smutty. There is many a fine feather that lives in a 
 chimney-corner. Nor are birds the only instances. Many 
 men are born in a garret, or in a cellar, who fly out of it, as 
 soon as fledged, as fine as any body. A lowly home has 
 reared many high natures. 
 
 11. On these bare sticks, I'ight against the bricks, in this 
 smoky flue, the eggs are laid, the brooding goes on, the 
 young are hatched, fed, grown. But then comes the day 
 when they spread the wing, and the whole heaven is theirs ! 
 From morning to night, they can not touch the bounds of 
 their liberty ! 
 
 12. And, in like manner, it is with the human soul that 
 has learned to know its liberty. Born in a body, pent up, 
 and cramped, it seems imprisoned in a mere smoky flue .for 
 passions. But, when once faith has taught the soul that it 
 has wings, then it begins to fly ; and flying, finds that all 
 God's domain is its liberty. 
 
 13. And, as the swallow that comes back to roost in its 
 hard hole at night, is quite content, so that the morning gives 
 it again all the bright heavens for its soaring-ground, so may 
 men, close-quartered and cramped in bodily accommodations, 
 be quite patient of their narrow bounds, for their thoughts 
 may fly out every day gloriously. 
 
 14. And as, in autumn, these children of the chimney 
 gather in flocks, and fly away to heavens without a winter, 
 so men shall find a day when they, too, shall migrate ; an(1, 
 rising into a higher sphere, without storm or winter, shall 
 remember the troubles of this mortal life, as birds in Florida 
 may be supposed to remember the northern chills, which 
 drove them forth to a fairer clime. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What birds seem to love the neighborhood of man? 
 2. In what respects may men be like birds ? 
 
NUMBER t'OUR. 119 
 
 LESSON XXIX. 
 
 The first part of each verse, or that portion read by the First Voice, should 
 be expressed in a slow and despondent tone of voice : the second part, or 
 that read by the Second Voice, should be expressed in a more sprightly and 
 cheerful manner. 
 
 THE DOUBTING HEART. 
 
 Adklaide a. Proctkk. 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 1. Where are the swallows fled ? 
 Frozen and dead, 
 Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy shore. 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 doubting heart ! 
 Far over purple seas, 
 The J wait, in sunnj ease, 
 The balmy, southern breeze. 
 To bring them to their northern homes once more. 
 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 2. Why must the flowers die ? 
 Poisoned they lie 
 In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 doubting heart ! 
 They only sleep below 
 The soft, white, ermine snow, 
 While winter winds shall blow. 
 To breathe and smile upon you soon again. 
 
X20 SANDERS' UNION SERIES 
 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 3. The sun has hid its rays 
 These many days ; 
 Will dreary hours never leave the earth ? 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 doubting heart ! 
 The stormy clouds on high 
 Vail the same sunny sky, 
 That soon, (for Spring is nigh,) 
 Shall wake the Summer into golden mirth. 
 
 FIRST VOICE. 
 
 4. Fair Hope is dead, and light 
 Is quenched in night. 
 What sound can break the silence of despair ? 
 
 SECOND VOICE. 
 
 doubting heart ! 
 The sky is overcast, 
 Yet stars shall rise at last, 
 Brighter for darkness past, 
 And angels' silver voices stir the air. 
 
 LESSON XXX. 
 
 Deck' ed, dressed ; arrayed. \ Crisp' er, more brittle. 
 
 Trail' ing, hanging down ; follow- Treas' ure$, wealth ; riches. 
 
 ing one after another. Mer' it, desert; goodness. 
 
 Un fail' ing, constant; continually. ? In her' it, occupy; possess. 
 
 Un pli' ant, stiff; unbending, \ Mor' sel, bit ; small piece. 
 
 De fi' ant, daring; bidding defiance. \ Wail' ing, loudly lamenting. 
 
 Ves' per, evening. \ Rail' ing, clamoring. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 121 
 
 THE COMING OF 
 
 1. Autumn's sighing, 
 Moaning, dying, 
 Clouds are fljing 
 
 On like steeds ; 
 While their shadows 
 O'er the meadows, 
 Walk like widows 
 
 Decked in weeds. 
 
 2. Red leaves trailing, 
 Fall unfailing. 
 Dropping, sailing, 
 
 From the wood, 
 That, unpliant. 
 Stands defiant, 
 Like a giant 
 
 Dropping blood. 
 
 3. Winds are swelling 
 Round our dwelling, 
 All day telling 
 
 Us their woe ; 
 And, at vesper, 
 Frosts grow" crisper, 
 As they whisper 
 
 Of the snow. 
 
 4. From th' unseen land. 
 Frozen inland, 
 Down from Greenland, 
 
 Winter glides, 
 4U 
 
 WINTER* 
 
 T. B. Head. 
 
 Shedding lightness 
 Like the brightness 
 When moon- whiteness 
 Fills the tides. 
 
 5. Now bright pleasure's 
 Sparkling measures 
 With rare treasures 
 
 Overflow ! 
 With this gladness 
 Comes what sadness I 
 Oh, what madness, 
 
 Oh, what woe! 
 
 6. Even merit 
 May inherit 
 Some bare garret. 
 
 Or the ground; 
 Or, a worse ill, 
 Beg a morsel 
 At some door-sill, 
 
 Like a hound . 
 
 T. Storms are trailing, 
 Winds are wailing, 
 Howling, railing, 
 
 At each door. 
 'Midst this trailing. 
 Howling, railing, 
 List the w^ailing 
 
 Of the poor ! 
 
122 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Questions.—!. What is the first sign of the coming of winter? 2. What, 
 the second ? 3. What, the third ? 4. What are some of the pleasures of 
 winter ? 5. What is said of the poor in winter? 6. What is the use of 
 the apostrophes in the words autumn's, o'er, pleasure's, 'midst, &c. ? 
 
 LESSON XXXI. 
 
 Live' long, whole ; entire. ) Wretch' ed ness, distress ; dcstitu^ 
 
 Eave$, edges of a roof. \ Of fense', fault ; crime. [tion. 
 
 E' YEN TIDE, evening. ? Pen' i tence, repentance ; contrition. 
 Striv' en, struggled ; contended. El' o quent ly, forcibly ; persua- 
 
 Re Liiiv' ED, mitigated ; alleviated. \ sively. 
 
 CHILD TIRED OF PLAY* 
 
 N. P. Willis. 
 
 1. Tired of play^ ! tired of play^ ! 
 
 What bast thou done this livelong day^ ? 
 
 The birds are silent', and so is the bee^ ; 
 
 The sun is creepirig up steeple and tree^ ; 
 
 The doves have flown to the sheltering eaves', 
 
 And the nests are dark with the drooping leaves' ; 
 
 Twilight gathers', and day is done\— *■ 
 
 How hast thou spent it^, — restless one'? 
 
 2. Playing' ? But what hast thou done beside, - 
 To tell thy mother at eventide' ? 
 
 What promise of morn is left unbroken' ? 
 What kind word to thy playmates spoken' ? 
 Whom hast thou pitied, and whom forgiven'? 
 How with thy faults has duty striven' ? 
 What hast thou learned by field and hill, 
 By greenwood path, and by singing rill' ? 
 
NUMBER FOUIl. 128 
 
 come an eve to a longer day', 
 That will find thee tired\ — but not of play' ! 
 And thou wilt lean, as thou leanest now, 
 With drooping limbs, and aching brow. 
 And wish the shadows would faster creep, 
 And long to go to thy quiet sleep. 
 Well were it then, if thine aching brow 
 Were as free from sin and shame as now ! 
 Well for tliee, if thy lip could tell 
 A tale like this, of a day spent well. 
 
 4. If thine open hand hath relieved distress', — 
 If thy pity hath sprung to wretchedness', — • 
 If thou hast forgiven the sore oifense', 
 And humbled thy heart with penitence', — 
 If Nature's voices have spoken to thee 
 With her holy meanings eloquently', —   
 If every creature hath won thy love'. 
 From the creeping worm to the brooding dove', — 
 If never^a sad, low-spoken word 
 Hath plead with thy human heart unheard', — 
 Theii"^ when the night steals on, as now. 
 It will bring relief to thine aching brow, 
 And, with joy and peace at the thought of rest, 
 Thou wilt sink to sleep on thy mother's breast. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What had the child been doing ? 2. What questions did 
 tho mother ask? 3. What did she tell the child would come? 4. What is 
 meant by eve to a longer daij, third verse ? 5. What, by quiet sleep, same 
 verse ? 6. What ought we to do m life, in order to have a joyful and peace- 
 ful death ? Y. What rule for the rising inflection on restless one, first verse ? 
 See page 32, Note I. 8. What rule for the falling inflection on playing, 
 second verse ? See page 29, Rule TI. 9. What rule for the rising inflec- 
 tions in the fourth verse ? Rule Y., page 31. 
 
124 SASDEHS' USIOK SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XXXII. 
 
 North-east' ER$, north-east winds, j Tort' ure, anguish of spirit, [cloned. 
 Ex H4UST' ED, {x like gz,) tired out. De $ert' ed, relinquished ; aban- 
 Yig' I LANT, watchful. Ra pib' I TY, speed ; swiftness. 
 
 De tect' ED, discovered. \ En vel' op ed, inclosed ; covered. 
 
 Lee' ward, pertaining to the part to- \ Gen' er a ted, produced. 
 
 ward which the wind blows. \ Leth' ar gy, drowsiness ; dullness. 
 
 Re ced'ing, retiring; passing away. ^ Res' cue, deliverance. 
 Brill' IAN CY, brightness; luster. In ev' i ta bly, surely; certain!}'-. 
 Till' er, bar used to turn the rudder. \ E spy' ing, seeing ; discovering. 
 
 Con' TACT, (con, together; tact, touch,) a touching together; close union. 
 / 
 
 THE RESCUE* 
 
 By a Sea Captain, 
 
 1 On a bright moonlight night, in the month of Feb- 
 ruary, 1831, wlien it was intensely cold, the little brig 
 ^vhich I commanded, lay quietly at her anchors, inside of 
 Sandy Hook. We had a hard time of it, beating about for 
 eleven days off this coast, with cutting north-easters blowing, 
 and snow and sleet falling for the most part of that time. 
 
 2. 'Forward, the vessel was thickly coated with ice, and 
 it was hard work to handle her ; as the rigging and sails 
 Avere stiff, and yielded only when the strength of the men 
 was exerted to the utmost. When we, at length, made the 
 port, all hands were worn down and exhausted. 
 
 3. "A bitter, cold night, Mr. Larkin," I said to my mate, 
 as I tarried for a short time upon deck. The worthy down- 
 easter buttoned his coat more tightly around him, and, look- 
 ing up to the moon, replied, "It's a whistler, captain ; and 
 nothing can live comfortably out of blankets to-night." 
 
 4. "The tide is running out swift and strong, and it will 
 be well to keep a sharp look-out for this floating ice, Mr. 
 Larkin," said I, as I turned to go below. ''Ay, ay, sir," 
 responded the faithful mate. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ;{ 25 
 
 5. About two hours afterward, I was aroused from a sound 
 sleep bj the vigilant officer. "Excuse me for disturbing 
 you, captain," said he, as he detected an expression of vexa- 
 tion in my face, "but I wish you would turn out, and come 
 on deck as soon as possible." 
 
 6. " What's the matter, Mr. Larkin," said I. " Why, sir, 
 I have been watching a large cake of ice, w^iich swept by at 
 a distance, a moment ago ; and I saw Something black upon 
 it, — something that I thought moved. The moon is under a 
 Cioud, and I could not see distinctly ; but I believe there is 
 a child floating out to the sea, this freezing night, on that 
 cake of ice." 
 
 7. We were on deck before either spoke another word. 
 The mate pointed out, with no little difiioulty, the cake of 
 ice floating ofi" to the leeward, with its white, glittering sur- 
 face broken by a black spot. " Get the glass, Mr. Larkin," 
 said I; "the moon will be out of that cloud in a moment, 
 and then we can see distinctly." 
 
 8. I kept my eye upon the receding mass of ice, while tlio 
 moon was slowly working her way through a heavy bank of 
 clouds. The mate stood by me w^ith the glass ; and w^hen the 
 full light fell upon the water, with a brilliancy only known 
 in our northern latitudes, I put the glass to my eye. One 
 glance was enough. 
 
 9. (") ^^ Forward^ there T"* I hailed at the top of my 
 voice ; and, with one bound, I reached the main hatch, and 
 began to clear away the little cutter, which was stowed in 
 the ship's yawl. Mr. Larkin had taken the glass to look 
 for himself " There are two children on that cake of 
 ice!''' he exclaimed, as he hastened to assist me in getting 
 out the boat. 
 
 10. The men answered my hail, and walked quickly aft. 
 In a short space of time, we launched the cutter, into which 
 
126 SANDERS* U^ION SERIES. 
 
 Mr. L:irkin and myself jumped, followed by the two men, 
 who took the oars. I rigged the tiller, and the mate sat 
 beside me in the stern sheets. 
 
 11. ^'Do you see that cake of ice, with something black 
 upon it, my lads ? Put me alongside of that, and I'll give 
 you a month's extra wages when you are paid off/' said I to 
 the men. 
 
 12. They bent to fheir oars, but their strokes were uneven 
 and feeble ; for they were worn out by the hard duty of the 
 preceding fortnight; and, though they did their best, the 
 boat made little more headway than the tide. It was a losing 
 chase, and Mr. Larkin, who was suffering torture as he saw 
 how little w^e gained, cried out, '' Pull^ lads! Ill double the 
 captain'' s prize : two months' extra pay : pull, lads ! pull 
 for life!' 
 
 13. A convulsive effort at the oars told how willing the 
 men were to obey ;^ but the strength of the strong man was 
 gone. One of the poor fellows washed us twice in i-ecover- 
 ing his oar, and then gave out ; and the other was nearly as 
 far gone. Mr. Larkin sprang forward and seized the de- 
 serted oar. "Lie down in the bottom of the boat," said he 
 to the man; and, captain, take the other oar ; we must row 
 for ourselves." 
 
 14. I took the second man's place. Larkin had stripped 
 off his coat, and, as he pulled the bow, I waited for the signal 
 stroke. It came gently, but firm ; and the next moment we 
 w^ere pulling a long, steady stroke ; gradually increasing in 
 rapidity, until the wood seemed to smoke in the row-locks. 
 We kept time, each by the long, deep breathing of the 
 other. 
 
 15. Such a pull! We bent forward until our faces almost 
 touched our knees ; and then throwino: all our streno^th into 
 the backward movement, drew on the oar until every inch 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 
 
 127 
 
 covered bj the sweep was gained. Thus we worked at the 
 oars for fifteen minutes; and it seemed to me as many hours. 
 The sweat rolled off in great drops, and I was enveloped in a 
 steam generated from mj own body. 
 
 16. '^Are we almost up to it, Mr. Larkin?" I gasped out. 
 ^'Almost, captain," said he; ''and don't give up! for the love 
 of our dear little ones at home; don^t give up^ captain!" 
 Tlie oars flashed as their blades turned up to the moonlight; 
 for the men who plied them were fathers, and had father's 
 hearts. 
 
 17. Suddenly Mr. Larkin ceased pulling ; and my heart, 
 for a moment, almost stopped its beating ; for the terrible 
 thought that he had given out, crossed my mind. But I was 
 re-assured by his voice, {p) "Gently, captain, gently: a 
 stroke or two more: there, that will do;" and the next 
 moment Mr. Larkin sprang upon the ice. I started up, and, 
 callino: to the men to make fast the boat to the ice, followed 
 him. 
 
 18. We ran to the dark spot in the center of the mass, 
 and found two little boys. The head of the smaller was 
 resting in the bosom of the larger ; and both were fast asleep. 
 The lethargy, which would have been fatal, but for the timely 
 rescue, had overcome them. 
 
 19. Mr. Larkin grasped one of the lads, cut off his shoes, 
 tore off his jacket, and then, loosening his own garments to 
 the skin, placed the cold child in contact with his own warm 
 body, carefully wrapping his overcoat around him. I did the 
 same with the other child; and we then returned to the 
 boat. 
 
 20. The children, as we learned when we had the delight 
 of restoring them to their parents, were playing on the cake 
 of ice, which had jammed into a bend of the river, about ten 
 miles above New York. A movement of the tide set the ice 
 
128 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 in motion, and the little fellows were borne away, that cold 
 night, and would have inevitably perished, but for Mr. 
 Larkin's espying them as they were sweeping out to sea. 
 
 21. ''How do you feel, Mr. Larkin?" I said to the mate, 
 the morning after this adventure. "A little stiff in the 
 arms, captain," the noble fellow replied, while the big teai-s 
 of grateful happiness gathered in his eyes, — " a little stiff in 
 the arms, captain, but very easy here," laying his hand on 
 the rough chest, in which beat a true and manly heart. 
 My quaint down-easter. He who lashes the seas into fury^ 
 and lets loose the tempest, will care for thee I The storms 
 may rage without, but in thy bosom peace and sunshine 
 abide always. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Describe the condition of the vessel as she laj at anchor 
 inside Sandy Hook. 2. What did the captain say to Mr. Larkin, as he 
 retired to rest ? 3. Why did Mr. Larkin wake up the captain ? 4. What 
 did they discover on a cake of ice, floating out to sea ? 5. Who went to 
 then- rescue ? 6. What did the captain say to the rowers of the boat ? 
 T. What did Mr. Larkin say to them ? 8. Did they finally succeed in res- 
 cuing the children ? 9. How came the two boys to be on that cake of ice ? 
 10. What did Mr. Larkin say, when the captain asked him how he felt ? 
 
 —^-^^^^^^m^^^ 
 
 LESSON XXXIIL 
 
 A dorn' ED, decorated ; embeUished. 5 Heath, place overgrown with 
 
 Spoil$, booty; prey. Liege, lord; sovereign, [shrubs. 
 
 Ant' ler$, branching horns. Loy' al, true ; faithful. 
 
 Sus pend' ed, hung ; attached. Fe' al ty, loyalty ; fidelity. 
 
 Dis tract' ed, disturbed ; disordered. Ma' tron, married woman. 
 
 Fu' ai tive, runaway ; wanderer. j Rec og niz' ed, knew ; recollected. 
 
 Beset', hemmed in; surrounded. j In vad' er$, persons, invading; 
 Tbai' tor$, betrayers. \ assailants. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ^OQ 
 
 ROBERT BRUCE AMD THE SCOTCH WOMAN* 
 
 Anox. 
 
 1. Many years ago, an old Scotch woman sat alone, spin- 
 ning by the kitchen fire, in her little cottage. The room 
 was adorned with the spoils of the chase, and many imple- 
 ments of war and hunting. There were spears, bows and 
 arrows, swords and shields, and, against the side of the room, 
 hung a pair of huge antlers, once reared on the lordly brow 
 of a " stag of ten,"* on which were suspended skins, plaids, 
 bonnets and one or two ponderous battle-axes. 
 
 2. The table, in the middle of the floor, was spread for sup- 
 per, and some oatmeal cakes were baking before the fire. But 
 the dame was not thinking of any of these things^ nor of 
 her two manly sons, who, in an adjoining room, were busily 
 preparing for the next day's sport. 
 
 3. She was thinkins^ of the distracted state of her native 
 land, and of the good king, Robert Bruce, a fugitive in his 
 own kingdom, beset, on every hand, by open enemies and 
 secret traitors. "Alas!" thought she, ''to-night I dwell 
 here in peace, while to-morrow may see me driven out into 
 the heath ; and even now our king is a wanderer, with no 
 shelter for his weary limbs." 
 
 4. A loud knock at the door broke in upon her musings. 
 She rose, trembling with fear, to unbar- the entrance, and 
 beheld a man closely mufiled in a cloak. " My good woman," 
 said he, " will you grant a poor traveler the shelter of your 
 roof to-night'?" 
 
 5. "Right willingly will I," said she ; "for the love of 
 one^ for whose sake all travelers are welcome here." 
 
 * That is, a stag ten jcars old. The age of the animal is known by the 
 number of prongs or tines, eaeh year one new prong being added. 
 4 IT 6* 
 
130 SANDERS' Ux^IOlV SERIES. 
 
 6. "For whose sake is it that jou make all wanderers 
 "VN'elcome ?'' asked the stranger 
 
 7. 'Tor the sake of our good king, Robert Bruce, who 
 though he is now hunted like a wild beast, with horn and 
 hound, I trust jet to see on the throne of Scotland !" 
 
 8. "Nay, then, mjr good woman, '^replied the man, "since 
 you love him so well, know that you see him now. / am 
 Robert Bruce." 
 
 9. '' Yoi/f—nre you ow.v king'?" she inquired, sinking 
 on her knees, and reverently kissing his hand; "where, then, 
 are your followers, and why are you thus alone?" 
 
 10. "I have no followers now," replied Bruce, "and am, 
 therefore, compelled to travel alone." 
 
 11. "Nay, my liege," exclaimed the loyal dame, "that 
 you shall do no longer ; for here are my two sons, whom I 
 give to you, and may tbey long live to serve and defend' 
 your majesty !" 
 
 12. The Scottish youths bent their knees, and took the 
 oath of fealty, and then, sitting beside the fire, the king 
 entered into conversation with his new retainers, while their 
 mother was busied in preparing the evening meal. 
 
 13. Suddenly, they were startled by the tramp of horses' 
 hoofs, and the voices of men. " ' Tis the English .'" shouted 
 the matron, ^^Jijht to the last^ my sons, and defend your 
 king V But, at this moment, the king recognized the voices 
 of lord James, of Douglas, and of Edward Bruce, and bade 
 them have no fear. / 
 
 14. Bruce was overjoyed at meeting with his brother, and 
 his faithful friend Douglas, who had with them a band of 
 one hundred and fifty men. He bade farewell to the brave 
 and loyal woman, and, taking with him her two sons, left the 
 place. 
 
 15. The two young Scots served Bruce well and faith- 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 131 
 
 fully, and were high officers in his service when, at the head 
 of a conquering army, he drove the English invaders from 
 the soil of Scotland, and rendered her again a free and 
 independent kingdom. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Describe the room in which the Scotch woman resided. 
 2. What is meant by a " stag of ten ?" 3. ^'ho did the stranger prove to 
 be ? 4. Who joined Bruce ? 5. What did Brijce and his men then do ? 
 
 LESSON XXXIY. 
 
 Pros per' i ty, success; good fortune. ^ Im mees' ed, inwrappod; sunk. 
 
 Dia' Ni FiE$, elevates; ennobles. Gos' sa mer y, like gossamer ; filmy. 
 
 Sus tain' ED, endured ; suffered. j Re coil'' ed, started back. 
 
 Ad vers' I TY, calamity ; misfortune. \ Foil' ed, frustrated ; defeated. 
 
 Un err' iNa, sure ; certain. Ro mange', fiction. 
 
 Forlorn', forsaken; wretched. \ Triv' i al, small; ti-ifling. 
 
 Can' PY, covering overhead. | Con fide', trust ; believe. 
 
 Devoid', destitute, [the eider-duck. Ad' verse, contrary; opposite 
 
 Ei DEE-DOWN, fine, soft feathers from ) Palm, token of victory. 
 
 ROBERT BRUCE AMD THE SPIDER. 
 
 Bernard Bartow. 
 
 1. Not in prosperity' s broad light, 
 
 Can reason justly scan 
 The sterling worth xohich, viewed aright, 
 
 Most dignifies the man. 
 Favored at once hj wind and tide, 
 The skillful pilot well may guide 
 
 The bark in safety on ; 
 Yet, when his harbor he has gained, 
 He who no conflict hath sustained, 
 
 No meed has fairly won. 
 
132 SANDERS' UNION SEIIIES. 
 
 2. But in adversity's dark hour 
 
 Of peril and of fear, 
 When clouds above the vessel lower, 
 
 With scarce one star to cheer ; 
 When winds are loud, and waves are high, 
 And ocean, to a timid eje, 
 
 Appears the seaman's grave ; 
 Amid the conflict, calm, unmoved, 
 Bj truth's unerring test is proved 
 
 The skillful and the brave. 
 
 8. For Scotland and her freedom's right 
 
 The Bruce his part had played ; 
 In five successive fields of fight 
 
 Been conquered and dismayed. 
 Once more, against the English host 
 His band he led, and 07ice m,ore lost 
 
 The meed for which he fought ; 
 And now, from battle faint and worn, 
 The homeless fugitive forlorn 
 
 A hut's lone shelter souorht. 
 
 o 
 
 4. And cheerless was that resting-place 
 
 For him who claimed a throne ; 
 His canopy, devoid of grace, — 
 
 The rude, rough beams alone ; 
 The heather couch his only bed. 
 Yet well I know had slumber fled 
 
 From couch of eider-down ; 
 Through darksome night to dawn of day, 
 Immersed in wakeful thought he lay, 
 
 Of Scotland and her crown. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ^c.^ 
 
 5. The sun rose brightly, and its gleam 
 
 Fell on that hapless bed, 
 And tinged with light each shapeless beam 
 
 Which roofed the lowly shed ; 
 When, looking up with wistful eye, 
 The Bruce beheld a spider try 
 
 His filmy thread to fling 
 From beam to beam of that rude cot ; 
 And well the insect's toilsome lot 
 
 Taught Scotland's future king. 
 
 6. Six times his gossamery thread 
 
 The wary spider threw : 
 In vain the filmy line was sped ; 
 
 For, powerless or untrue, 
 Each aim appeared and back recoiled 
 The patient insect, six times f oiled ^ 
 
 And yet unconquered still ; 
 And soon the Bruce, with eager eye, 
 Saw him prepare once more to try 
 
 His courage, strength, and skill. 
 
 7. One effort mo?^e, the seventh and last.- 
 
 The hero hailed the sign ! 
 And on the wished- for beam hung fast 
 
 The slender, silken line. 
 Slight as it was, his spirit caught 
 The more than omen ; for his thought 
 
 The lesson well could trace, 
 Which even '' he who runs may read," 
 That perseverance gains its meed, 
 
 And patience wins the lace. 
 
1:34 SANDERS' UJVIOJV SERIES. 
 
 8. Is it a tale of mere romance'? 
 
 Its moral is the same, — 
 A light and trivial circumstance' ? 
 
 Some thought, it still maj claim. 
 Art thou a father' ? teach thj son 
 Never to deem that all is do}ie, 
 
 While au^ht remains untried; 
 To hope, though every hope seems crossed, 
 And when his bark is tempest-tossed 
 
 StilJ calmly to confide. 
 
 9. Hast thou been long and often foiled 
 (<) By adverse wind and seas'? 
 
 And vainly struggled, vainly toiled, 
 
 For what some win with ease'? 
 Yet bear up heart, and hope, and will, 
 Nobly resolved to struggle still. 
 
 With patience persevere ; 
 Knowing, when darkest seems the night, 
 The dawn of morning's glorious light 
 Is swiftly drawing near. 
 
 10. Art thou a Christian ? shall the frown 
 
 Of fortune cause dismay'? 
 The Bruce but won an earthly crown 
 
 Wtich long hath passed away; 
 For thee a heavenly crown awaits, 
 For thee are ope'd the pearly gates, 
 
 Prepared the deathless palm : 
 But bear in mind that only those 
 Who persevere unto the close, 
 
 Can join in Yictorys psalm. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ]^g5 
 
 Questions. — 1. Will smooth seas andflivoring gales make a skillful mari- 
 ner ? 2. What will make skillful and brave men ? 3. In what respect is 
 adversity better than prosperity ? 4. What story illustrates this fact ? 5. 
 How many times did the spider try, before it succeeded ? 6. In how many 
 battles had Bruce been defeated ? 1. What important lesson is taught youth? 
 8. What encouragement is given to the Christian ? 
 
 ^9^m-s^' 
 
 LESSON XXXV. 
 
 Pat ri ot' ic, having love of country. ( 0' di ous, hatefal ; offensive. 
 
 Ob $er va' tion, remark; expression. Count'' ess, wife of a count or earl. 
 
 Pop' u lar, well received ; prevailing. \ Fag-end', the meaner part. 
 
 E qual' I TY, sameness of social posi- No bil' i ty, noble rank. 
 
 Aud' I ble, that may be heard, [tion. BuR lesque', {bur lesk^,) ridicule. 
 
 De ter' min ED, fully resolved. He red' i ta ry, coming by descent. 
 
 He$' I TATE, scruple. | Con' sti tutes, forms ; composes. 
 
 Bra' vo, well done. Aph' o ri$m$, precepts ; maxims. 
 
 Broil$, wrangles ; quarrels. Tem' po RA ry, continuing for a time. 
 
 Ee nown' ED, famed; celebrated. ) Beck, sign with the hand; nod. 
 
 ^ La va' ter, (John Gaspar,) a celebrated physiognomist, that is, one 'skilled 
 in the art of determining character by the external features, born in Zurich, 
 in 1741. 
 
 That part of this dialogue uttered by Caroline, should be read in a very 
 earnest and spirited style, — that uttered by Horace in a more grave, delib- 
 erate, and candid manner. 
 
 WEALTH AJiD FASHION* 
 
 Miss Edgwoetii. 
 
 CaroVme. What a pitj it is that we are born under a 
 Republican government I 
 
 Horace. Upon mj word, Caroline, that is a patriotic 
 observation for an American. 
 
 Caroline. Oh, I know that it is not a popular one ! We 
 must all join in the cry of liberty and equality, and bless 
 our stars that we have neither kings nor emperors to rule 
 
136 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 over us, and that our very first audible squeak was repub- 
 licanism. If we don't join in the shout, and hang our caps 
 on liberty -poles, we are considered monsters. For mj part, 
 I am tired of it, and am determined to say what I think. 
 I hate republicanism; I hate liberty and equality; and I 
 don't hesitate to declare that I ara for monarchy. You may 
 laugh, but I would say it at the stake. 
 
 Horace. Bravo, Caroline! You have almost run yourself 
 out of breath. You deserve to be prime minister to the king. 
 
 Caroline. You mistake ; I have no wish to mingle in 
 political broils, not even if I could be as renowned as Pitt 
 or Fox ; but I must say, I think our equality is odious. 
 What do you think ! To-day, the new chamber-maid put 
 her head into the door, and said, '' Caroline, your 
 marm wants you!" 
 
 Horace. Excellent ! I suppose if ours were a monarch- 
 ical government, she would have bent to the ground, or 
 saluted your little foot, before she spoke. 
 
 Caroline. No, Horace; you know there are no such 
 forms in this country. 
 
 Horace. May I ask your highness what you would like 
 to be? 
 
 Caroline. I would like to be a countess. 
 
 Horace. Oh, you are moderate in your ambition ! A 
 countess, now-a-days, is the fag-end of nobility. 
 
 Caroline. Oh! but it sounds so delightfully, — ^'The 
 young Countess Caroline P'' 
 
 Horace. If sound is all, you shall have that pleasure ; 
 we will call you the young countess. 
 
 Caroline. That would be mere burlesque, Horace, and 
 would make one ridiculous. 
 
 Horace. Nothing can be more inconsistent with us, than 
 aiming at titles. 
 
KUMBER FOUR. ' \<^^ 
 
 Caroline. For us^ I grant jou; but, if they were lie- 
 redltary^ if we had been born to them, if they came to us 
 through belted knights and high-born dames, then we might 
 be proud to wear them. I never shall cease to regret that 
 I was not born under a monarchy. 
 
 Horace. You seem to forget that all are not lords and 
 ladies in royal dominions. Suppose you should have drawn 
 your first breath among the lower classes^ — suppose it 
 should have been your lot to crouch and bend, or be trod- 
 den under foot by some titled personage, whom in your 
 heart you despised ; what then ? 
 
 Carolijie. You may easily suppose that I did not mean 
 to take those chances. ]S"o ; I meant to be born among the 
 higher ranks. 
 
 Horace. Your own reason must tell you, that all can not 
 be born among the higher ranks ; for then the loioer ones 
 would be wanting, which constitute the comparison. Now, 
 Caroline, is it not better to be born under a government 
 where there are no such ranks, and where the only nobility 
 is talent and virtue' ? 
 
 Caroline. Talent and virtue ! I think wsalth constitutes 
 our nobility, and the right of abusing each other, our liberty. 
 
 Horace. You are as fond of aphorisms as Lavater^ was. 
 
 Caroline. Let me ask you if our rich men, who ride in 
 their own carriages, who have fine houses, and who count by 
 millions, are not our great men ? 
 
 Horace. They have all the greatness that money can buy; 
 btit this is very limited. 
 
 Caroline. Well, in my opinion, money is power, 
 
 Horace. You mistake. Money may be temporary 
 power .^ but talent is power itself ; and, when united loith 
 virtue^ is godlike power, before which the mere man of 
 millions quails. 
 
138 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Caroline. Well, Horace, I really wish jou the possession 
 of talent, and principle, and wealth into the bargain. The 
 latter, jou think, will follow the two former, simplj at your 
 beck ; — you smile ; but / feel as determined in my way of 
 thinking, as you do in yours. 
 
 Questions.— 1. What is the subject of this dialogue? 2. What did Caro- 
 line regret? 3. What reply did Horace make? 4. What did Caroline wish 
 to be ? 5. What did Horace say constituted true nobility ? 
 
 LESSON XXXVI. 
 
 Re $erv' ixG, keeping ; retaining. \ Ju di" cious, wise ; prudent. 
 Ac cu' MU LA TED, collected. Vo ca' tion, business ; employment. 
 
 Ix DIG na' tion, angry feeling. Eu phon' ic, agreeable ; well-sound- 
 
 Rk sourc' e$, means ; funds. ing. [the same time. 
 
 Dis SKR ta' tion, discourse ; essay. Co tem' po ra rie$, those living at 
 Ex pan' sion, enlargement. Di gres' sion, departure from tlie 
 
 Depo$'ited, put; laid. Pre dig' tion$, prophecies, [subject. 
 
 Ex er' tion, {egz er shun^) effort. ( Im pell' ed, driven forward. 
 
 Ar is too' ra cy, (aristo, the best ; cracy, government,) government by 
 the best, or nobles. See Sanders' Analysis, page 200, Ex. 283. 
 
 1 Soo' RA te$, the most celebrated philosopher of antiquity, was born at 
 Athens, 470 years before Christ. The purity of his doctrines, and his inde- 
 pendence of character, rendered him popular with the most enlightened 
 Athenians, though they created him many enemies. He was falsely accused, 
 arraigned, and condemned to drink hemlock, the juice of a poisonous plant. 
 When the hour to- take the poison had come, the executioner handed him 
 the cup, with tears in liis eyes. Socrates received it with composure, drank 
 it with unaltered countenance, and, in a few moments, expired. 
 
 2 De mos' the ne$, a great Grecian orator, who, rather than fall into 
 the hands of his enemies, destroyed himself by taking poison. It is said 
 that, when a youth, he frequently declaimed on the sea-shore, while the 
 waves were roaring around him, in order to secure a large compass of voice, 
 and to accustom himself to the tumult of a popular assembly. 
 
 3 King Da' vid, the sweet singer and poet of Israel. For the interesting 
 account of his tnumph over Goliath, the giant champion of the Philistines, 
 see 1 Sam., chap. 17. 
 
3VUMBER FOUR. ]_g9 
 
 MY FIRST dfACK-KNIFE. 
 
 1. I REMEMBER it well ! Its hom handle, so smooth 
 and clear, glowing with the unmeaning, but magic word, 
 ^^ Bunkum f^ and the blade significantly inviting you to 
 the test, by the two monosyllables, " Try me." 
 
 2. I know not how it is, but I never could take half the 
 comfort in any thing which I have since possessed, that I 
 took in this jack-knife. I earned it myself ; and, therefore, 
 I had a feeling of independence ; it was bought with my oitm 
 money ^ — not teazed out of my uncle, or still kinder father, — 
 inoney that I had silently earned on the afternoons of those 
 days set apart for boys to amuse themselves. 
 
 3. Yes ! with a spirit of persevering industry and self- 
 denial, at which I now wonder, I went, every afternoon, 
 during '' berry-time," and picked the ripened fruit with 
 eagerness ; for my heart was in the task. I sold my ber- 
 ries, and, carefully reserving the proceeds, shortly accumu- 
 lated enough to purchase the treasure, for which I so eagerly 
 longed. 
 
 4. I went to one of. the village-stores, and requested the 
 clerk to show me his jack-knives ; but he, seeing that I was 
 only a boy, and thinking that I merely meant to amuse myself 
 in looking at the nicest, and wishing it w^as mine, told me 
 not to plague him, as he was otherwise engaged. 
 
 5. I turned with indignation ; but I felt the inward com- 
 fort of a man who has confidence in his own resources, and 
 knows he has the power in his own hands. I quietly jingled 
 the money in my pockets, and went to the opposite store. 
 I asked for jack-knives, and was shown a lot fresh from the 
 city, which were temptingly laid down before me, and left 
 for me to select one, while the trader went to another part 
 of his store to wait upon an older customer. I looked over 
 
140 sa:vders' union skhiks. 
 
 them; opened them, breathed upon the blades, and shut 
 them again. 
 
 6. One was too hard to open, another had no spring; 
 finally, after examining them with all the judgment which, 
 in my opinion, the extent of the investment required, I 
 selected one with a hole through the handle ; and, after a 
 dissertation with the owner upon jack-knives in general, and 
 this o}ie in particular,— upon hawk-bill, and dagger-blades, — 
 and handles, iron, bone, and buck-horn, — I succeeded in 
 closing a bargain, 
 
 7. I took the instrument I had purchased, and felt a sud- 
 den expansion of my boyish frame 1 It was my world ! I 
 deposited it in my pocket among other valuables, — twine, 
 marbles, slate-pencils, &c. I went home to my father; I 
 told him how long I had toiled for it, and how eagerly I 
 had spent time, which others had allotted to play, to possess 
 myself of my treasure. 
 
 8. My father gently chided me for not telling him of my 
 wants ; but 1 observed his glistening eye turn affectionately 
 to my mother and then to me, and I thought that his manly 
 form seemed to ^raighten up, and to look prouder than I 
 had ever before seen him. At any rate, he came to me, and, 
 patting my curly head, told me there was no object in life, 
 which was reasonably to be desired, that honesty, self- 
 denial, well-directed industry, and perseverance would not 
 place within my reach ; and if, through life, I carried the 
 spirit of independent exertion into practice, which I had dis- 
 played in the purchase of the jack-knife, I should become a 
 ^' great man^ 
 
 9. From that moment, I was a new being. I had discov- 
 ered that I could rely upon myself. I took my jack-knife, 
 and many a time, while cutting the walnut-saplings for my 
 bow, or the straight pine for my arrow, or carving my mimic 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 141 
 
 ship, did I muse upon these words of mj father, — so deeply 
 aj-e the kind expressions of a judicious parent engraven on 
 the heart and memory of boyhood. 
 
 10. My knife was my constant companion. It was my 
 carpenter, my ship-builder, and my toy-manufacturer. It 
 was out upon all orcasions, never amiss, and always '4iandy ;" 
 and, as I valued it, I never let it part from me. I own my 
 selfishness ; I would divide my apples among my pla^-mates, 
 my whole store of marbles was at their service, — they might 
 knock my bats, kick my foot-ball as they chose ; but I had 
 no partnership of enjoyments in my jack-knife. Its posses- 
 sion was connected in my mind with something so exclusive^ 
 that I could not permit another to take it for a moment. 
 Oh ! there is a wild and delicious luxury in one's boyish 
 anticipations and youthful day-dreams ! 
 
 11. If, however, the use of my jack-knife afibrded me 
 pleasure, the idea of its possession was no less a source of 
 enjoyment, I was, for the time being, a little prince among 
 my fellows, — a perfect monarch. Let no one exclaim against 
 aristocracy ; were we all perfectly equal to-day ^ there would 
 be an aristocracy to-morrow. Talent, judgment, skill, tict, 
 industry, perseverance, will place some on the top, Avhile the 
 contrary attributes will place others at the bottom of for- 
 tune's ever-revolving wheel ! 
 
 12. The plowman is an aristocrat, if he excels in his 
 vocation : he is an aristocrat, if he turns a better or a 
 straighter furrow than his neighbor. The poorest poet is an 
 aristocrat, if he writes more feelingly, in a purer language, 
 or with more euphonic jingle than his cotemporaries. The 
 fisherman is an aristocrat, if he wields his harpoon with 
 more skill, and hurls it with a deadlier energy than his 
 messmates, or lias even learned to fix his bait more allur- 
 ingly on his barbed hook. 
 
142 SANDERS' UNION SEUIES. 
 
 13. All have had, and still have their foibles ; all have 
 -some possession, upon which they pride themselves, and I 
 was proud of mj jack-knife ! Spirit of Socrates^ forgive 
 me I was there no pride in djing Hke a philosopher' ? Spirit 
 of Demosthenes', forgive me! was there no pride in your 
 addresses to the boundless and roaring ocean'? Spirit of 
 David' ! was there no pride in the deadly hurling of the 
 smooth^ pebble, which sank deep into the forehead of your 
 enemy' ? 
 
 14. But I must take my jack-knife and cut short this 
 digression. Let no man, say this or that occurrence " wiil 
 make no differ eiice fifty ijears hence ^'' — a common, but 
 dangerous phrase. I am noio a man of three-score years. 
 I can point my finger here to my ships, there to my ware- 
 house. My name is well known in two hemispheres. I 
 have drank deeply of intellectual pleasures, have served my 
 country in many important stations, have had my gains, and 
 made my losses. 
 
 15. I have seen many, who started with fairer prospects, 
 but with no compass, wrecked before me ; but I have been 
 impelled in my operations, no matter how extensive, by the 
 same spirit which conceived and executed the purchase of 
 the jack-knife. And I have found my reward in it ; and, 
 perhaps, in after years, there will be those who will say that 
 the predictions of my fither were fulfilled in their case ; 
 and that, from small heginnings^ by '• honesty, self- 
 denial, well-directed industry, and perseverance,'' they, 
 
 also, BECAME TRULY '' GREAT MEN.'' 
 
 QuESTioxs— 1. How did this boy obtain his first jack-knife ? 2. What 
 did his father say to him, when he told how he had earned it ? 3. What 
 use did he make of his knife? 4. What is said about aristocracy? 
 5. What is said of this boy when he came to be three-score years old ? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 143 
 
 LESSON XXXVII. 
 
 Coin' ei>, stamped. j At tir' ed, dressed ; arrayed. 
 
 Bar' TER, trade; exchange. \ Pi'ony, plant and beautiful flower. 
 
 Com mod' I TiE$, goods ; wares. \ Per' son a ble, handsome ; graceful. 
 
 Bull' ion, uncoined silver or gold, j Es pe" cial ly, mainly ; chiefly. 
 
 Bug' ca neer$, pirates ; free-booters. Cer' e mo ny, rite ; form, [or holds. 
 
 l.^l mense', very great ; enormous. ( Ee cep' ta cle, that which receives 
 
 Dain' TiE$, delicacies. Pon' der ors, heavy; bulky.' 
 
 Small-clothe$, breeches. 1 Ee $um' ing, taking again. 
 
 THE PINE-TREE SHILLINGS. 
 
 NaTIIANIKL n.VWTHORXK. 
 
 1. Captain John Hull was the mint-master of Massa- 
 chusetts, and coined all the money that was made there. 
 This was a new line of business ; for, in the earlier days of 
 the colony, the current coinage consisted of gold and silver 
 money of England, Portugal, and Spain. 
 
 2. These coins being scarce, the people were often forced 
 to barter their commodities, instead of selling them. For 
 instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he, perhaps, ex- 
 changed a bear-skin for it. If he wished for a barrel of 
 molasses, he might purchase it with a pile of pine-boards. 
 Musket-bullets were used instead of farthings. 
 
 3. The Indians had a sort of money, called wa?Jipum, 
 which was made of clam-shells ; and this strange sort of 
 specie was, likewise, taken in payment of debts, by the Eng- 
 lish settlers. Bank-bills had never been heard of. Thero 
 was not money enough of any kind, in many parts of the 
 country, to pay the salaries of the ministers ; so that they 
 sometimes had to take quintals of fish, bushels of corn, or 
 cords of wood, instead of silver or gold. 
 
 4. As the people grew more numerous, and their trade 
 one with another increased, the want of current money was 
 still more sensibly felt. To supply the demand, the general 
 
144 SANDERS' UNIOjV SERIES. 
 
 court passed a law for establishing a coinage of shiliinfys^ 
 sixpences, and threepences. Captain John Hull was ap- 
 pointed to manufacture this jmonej, and was to have one 
 shilling, out of every twenty, to pay him for the trouble of 
 making them. 
 
 5. Hereupon, all the old silver in the colony was handed 
 over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver cans, and 
 tankards, and silver-buckles, and broken spoons, and silver- 
 buttons of worn-out coats, and silver hilts of swords that 
 had figured at courts, — all such curious old articlesVere, 
 doubtless, thrown into the melting-pot together. But by 
 far the greater part of the silver consisted of bullion from 
 the mines of South America, which the English buccaneers, 
 (who were little better than pirates,) had taken from the 
 Spaniards, and brought to Massachusetts. 
 
 6. All this old and new silver being melted down and 
 coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid shil- 
 lings, sixpences, and threepences. Each had the date, 1652, 
 on the one side, and the figure of a j^i^^e-tree on the other. 
 Hence, they were called pine-tree shillings. And, for every 
 twenty shillings that he coined, you will remember, Captain 
 John Hull was entitled to put one shilling into his own 
 pocket. 
 
 7. The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mint- 
 master would have the best of the bargain. They offered 
 him a large sum of money, if he would but give up that 
 twentieth shilling, which he was continually dropping into 
 his own pocket. But Captain Hull declared himself per- 
 fectly satisfied with the shilling. And well he might be • 
 for, so diligently did he labor, that, in a few years, his 
 pockets, his money-bags, and his strong box, were overflow- 
 ing with pine-tree shillings. This was probably the case 
 ^hen he came into possession of Grandfather's chair; and, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 145 
 
 as he had worked so hard at the mint, it was certainly 
 proper that he should have a comfortable chair to rest him- 
 self in. 
 
 8. When the mint-master had grown very rich, a young 
 man, Samuel Sewell by name, fell in love with his only 
 daughter. His daughter, whom we will call Betsey, was a 
 fine, hearty damsel, by no means so slender as some young 
 ladies of our own days. As Samuel was a young man of good 
 character, industrious in his business, and a member of the 
 church, the mint-master very readily gave his consent. 
 
 9. " Yes ; you may take her," said he, in his rough way; 
 "and you'll find her a heavy burden enough!" On the 
 wedding-day, we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed 
 himself in a plum-colored coat, all the buttons of which 
 were made of pine-tree shillings. The buttons of his waist- 
 coat were sixpences ; and the knees of his small-clothes were 
 buttoned with silver threepences. 
 
 10. Thus attired, he sat with great dignity in Grand- 
 father's chair ; and, being a portly old gentleman, he com- 
 pletely filled it from elbow to elbow. On the opposite side 
 of the room, between her bridemaids, sat Miss Betsey, blush- 
 ing like a full-blown piony. 
 
 11. There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine 
 purple coat, and gold-lace waistcoat, with as much other 
 finery as the Puritan laws and customs would allow him to 
 put on. His hair was cropped close to his head, because 
 Governor Endicott had forbidden any man to wear it below 
 the ears. But he was a very personable young man ; and 
 so thought the bridemaids and Miss Betsey herself. 
 
 12. The mint-master, also, was pleased with his new son- 
 in-law; especially as he had courted Miss Betsey out of 
 pure love, and had said nothing at all about her portion. 
 So, when the marriage ceremony was over. Captain Hull 
 
 4U 7 
 
146 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 whispered a word to two of his men-servants, wlio imme- 
 diately went out, and soon returned, lugging in a large pair 
 of scales. Thej were such a pair as wholesale merchants 
 use for weighing bulky commorlities ; and quite a bulky 
 commodity was now to be weighed in them., 
 
 13. ''Daughter Betsey," said the mint-master, " get into 
 one side of these scales." Miss Betsey, or Mrs. Sewell, as 
 we must now call her, did as she was bid, like a dutiful 
 child, without any question of the why and wherefore. But 
 what her father could mean, unless to make her husband pay 
 for her by the pound, (in which case she would have been a 
 dear bargain,) she had not the least idea. 
 
 14. " And now," said honest John Hull to the servants, 
 *' bring that box hither." The box, to which the mint- 
 master pointed, was a huge, square, iron-bound, oaken 
 chest. The servants tugged with might and main ; but 
 could not lift this enormous receptacle, and were finally 
 obliged to drag it across the floor. 
 
 15. Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, un- 
 locked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. Behold ! il 
 was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shillings^ fresh 
 from the mint ; and Samuel Sewell began to think that his 
 father-in-law had got possession of all the money in the 
 Massachusetts' treasury. But it was only the mint-master's 
 honest share of the coinage. 
 
 16. Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, 
 heaped double handfuls of shillings into one side of the 
 scales, while Betsey remained in the other. Jingle, jingle, 
 went the shillings, as handful after handful was thrown in, 
 till, plump and ponderous as she was, they fairly weighed 
 the young lady from the floor. 
 
 ' 17. " There, son Samuel," said the honest mint- master, 
 resuming his seat in Grandfather's chair, "take these shil- 
 
NUMBEil FOUR. 147 
 
 lings for my daughter's portion. Use her kindly, and thank 
 
 Heaven for her. It is not every wife thafs worth her 
 
 weight in silver !'' 
 
 Questions.— 1. What was Captain John Hull's business ? 2. What por- 
 tion of the money coined, was he to receive? 3. How did he get silver to 
 coin ? 4. Describe the shillings he coined. 5. How did he become wealthy? 
 6. Describe his dress on his daughter's wedding-day. 1. What did he 
 say to his son-in-law, after weighing her with shillings ? 
 
 LESSON XXXVIII. 
 
 Lodg' e$, dens ; caves. j Frol' ic, fun ; play. [waded. 
 
 Mar' vel ous, wonderful. \ Ford, place where water can be 
 
 Tip' fed, pointed. Fleck' ed, spotted ; striped. 
 
 Herd, gather in herds. > Flut' ter ed, quivered. * 
 
 Fa' mous, noted ; remarkable i Pal' pi ta ted, beat ; throbbed. 
 
 Roe' buck, small species of deer. Wa' ry, watchful ; cautious. 
 
 Straight' way, immediately Fa' tal, deadly; mortal, [joiced. 
 
 E rect', upright. \ Ex ult' ed, {x like gz,) greatly re- 
 
 HIAWATHA'S- HUNTING. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 This lesson is taken from " The Song of Hiawatha," a poem, founded 
 upon traditions current among some tribes of North American Indians, 
 respectiog an imaginary being of more than mortal powers and gifts, named 
 Hiawatha. The scene of the poem is laid among the Ojibways, or Chip- 
 pewas, a tribe of Indians, occupants, from the period of our earliest history, 
 of the basin of Lake Superior. 
 
 1. Then the little Hiawatha 
 
 Learned of every bird its language, 
 Learned their names and all their secrets, 
 How they built their nests in summer, 
 Where they hid themselves in winter. 
 Talked with them where'er he met them. 
 Called them '' Hiawatha's chickens." 
 
148 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. Of all beasts he learned the language, 
 Learned their names and all their secrets, 
 How the beavers built their lodges, 
 Where the squirrels hid their acorns, 
 How the reindeer ran so swiftly, 
 
 Why the rabbit was so timid, 
 
 Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
 
 Called them "Hiawatha's brothers." 
 
 3. Then I a goo, the great boaster, 
 He, the marvelous story-teller. 
 He, the traveler and the talker, 
 Made a bow for Hiawatha ; 
 From a branch of ash he made it, 
 From an oak-bough made the arrows, 
 Tipped with flint, and winged with feathers, 
 And the cord he made of deer-skin. 
 
 4. Then he said to Hiawatha, 
 
 " Go, my son, into the forest, 
 Where the red deer herd together, 
 Kill for us a famous roebuck, 
 Kill for us a deer with antlers." 
 Forth into the forest straightway 
 All alone walked Hiawatha 
 Proudly with his bow and arrows* 
 
 5. And the birds sang round him, o'er him, 
 **Do not shoot us, Hiawatha." 
 
 Sang the robin, sang the bluebird, 
 *^Do not shoot us, Hiawatha." 
 Up the oak-tree, close beside him, 
 Sprang the squirrel, lightly leaping 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 149 
 
 In and out among the branches ; 
 Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree, 
 Laughed, and said between his laughing, 
 " Do not shoot me, Hiawatha." 
 
 6. And the rabbit from his pathway 
 Leaped aside, and, at a distance, 
 Sat erect upon his haunches, 
 Half in fear, and half in frolic, 
 Saying to the little hunter, 
 *'Do not shoot me, Hiawatha." 
 
 7. But he heeded not nor heard them. 
 
 For his thoughts were with the red deer ; 
 On their tracks his eyes were fastened, 
 Leading downward to the river. 
 To the ford across the river. 
 And as one in slumber walked he. 
 
 8. Hidden in the alder bushes. 
 There he waited till the deer came, 
 Till he saw two antlers lifted. 
 
 Saw two eyes look from the thicket, 
 Saw two nostrils point to windward. 
 And the deer came down the pathway, 
 Flecked with leafy light and shadow. 
 And his heart within him fluttered, 
 Trembled like the leaves above him, 
 Like the birch leaf palpitated, 
 As the deer came down the pathway. 
 
 9. Then, upon one knee uprising, 
 Hiawatha aimed an arrow ; 
 
150 
 
 SAKDERS' UA'ION SERIES. 
 
 Scarce a twig moved "sfrith his motion, 
 Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled, 
 But the warj roebuck started, 
 Stamped with all his hoofs together, 
 Listened with one foot uplifted. 
 Leaped as if to meet the arrow ; 
 Ah, the singing, fatal arrow. 
 Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him. 
 
 10. Dead he lay there in the forest. 
 By the ford across the river ; 
 Beat his timid heart no longer ; 
 But the heart of Hiawatha 
 Throbbed, and shouted, and exulted, 
 As he bore the red deer homeward. 
 
 LESSON XXXIX. 
 
 Trail, track; footprints. 
 
 In' di ca ted, pointed out ; shown. 
 
 Murk' y, dark; gloomy. 
 
 Flam' BEAU, {jiam' bo,) lighted torch. 
 
 Re flect' ing, throwing back. 
 
 Lu' RID LY, gloomily ; dismally. 
 
 Sus pect' ing, mistrusting. 
 
 As sail' ants, assaulters. 
 
 Eoh' 0, (e^ 0,) sound reverberated. 
 
 Re laps' ED, fell back •, returned. 
 
 En vel' op ED, inwrapped. 
 Suf' fo ca ted, smothered. 
 Brand' ish ing, flourishing ; waving. 
 Rig' id, stiff. [without tents. 
 
 Biv' OUAC, {Ml/ wok,) pass the night 
 Peer' ed, came in sight ; appeared. 
 De cliv' i ty, gradual descent. 
 Pro long' ed, lengthened ; con- 
 tinued. 
 Com' rade, companion ; associate. 
 
 A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER WITH A PANTHER^ 
 
 Boys Book of Advkntukes, 
 
 1. I HAD left the hunting party more than an hour, when 
 I came upon the track of my old friend Konwell, who was. 
 
NUMBKR FOUR 
 
 151 
 
 /ith his dogs, on the bloody trail of a panther. The animal 
 /Qust have had one of his legs broken ; this was indicated by 
 the marks on the soft ground, and it was plain that the 
 cracks were made by three feet instead of four, and accom- 
 panied by blood at every leap. 
 
 2. I determined to follow ; and, after a tramp of nearly 
 an hour, I overtook my friend at the entrance of a cavern, 
 where he stood waiting for me. The wounded animal had 
 taken refuge in this cave, leaving us to do whatever we 
 thought best. The poor beast doubtless supposed that 
 within this murky recess he was safe from pursuit ; but he 
 was mistaken. Konwell informed me that he had hidden a 
 bundle of pine splinters in a gulley, about half a mile dis- 
 tant, and that if I would keep guard over the mouth of the 
 cave, he would go and bring it. 
 
 3. I agreed to this measure ; and, with ready gun and 
 drawn knife, prepared for any attack that might be made. 
 I lay down at the entrance of the panther's cave. My 
 friend soon returned, bringing the pine, as he had promised. 
 His next movement was to kindle a large fire at the mouth 
 of the cave, at which we lighted our torches ; and, having 
 taken the flambeaus in our left hand, while we carried our 
 guns in the right, we cautiously entered the cave. I crept 
 on before ; but the space within soon became so high and 
 roomy, that we could stand upright, and keep close to each 
 other. 
 
 4. Bending toward the left, the cavity extended a consid- 
 erable distance within the hill. After we had advanced 
 about two hundred steps, we saw the glaring eyes of the 
 wounded beast, which gleamed forth like two fiery balls, 
 reflecting most luridly the light of our torches. Konwell 
 now took my flambeau and stepped behind me. I leveled 
 my gun in the direction of those flaming eyes, and fired. 
 
J_52 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 After the report, we heard a bustle ; but could not exactlj 
 make out what it meant. 
 
 5. I reloaded my gun, resumed my torch, and Konwell 
 now took his place in front. ' But, as those flaming eyes 
 were no longer to be seen, we felt obliged to go farther. 
 Our guns ready loaded, we believed ourselves to be prepared 
 for any thing. We proceeded carefully, as men are likely 
 to do when suspecting danger, when, instantly, the panther 
 started up from a hollow, in which he was lying, quite close 
 to our feet. 
 
 6. It was a fearful sight to look upon him as he stood 
 with ears laid back, his white teeth set together, as if in 
 intense anger, and those wide open eyes glowing and spark- 
 ling as they rested upon us, his assailants. I can never 
 forget his appearance. In a moment our guns were dis- 
 charged, and the cave returned the thundering echo. We 
 had both fired so precisely at the same moment, that neither 
 of us could believe the other had discharged his gun. 
 
 7. We were certain that our enemy had been struck, but 
 we knew not whether killed or only disabled. Quick as 
 thought, we dropped our guns and drew our knives from the 
 sheath. And haste was necessary; for the echo had not 
 relapsed into silence, before we felt the weight of the pan- 
 ther against us ; and we began cutting at him with our knives, 
 and, at the same moment, in consequence of our hurried 
 movements, our torches died out, and we were left, in utter 
 darkness. 
 
 8. Deafened by the noise and utterly bewildered, I turned 
 to fly from the now raging enemy, and only became perfectly 
 aware of what I was doing, when I found myself standing 
 beside Konwell outside the cave in the open air. I only 
 know now, that, enveloped in thick darkness, and almost 
 suffocated with the smoke of gunpowder, I groped about. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 3^53 
 
 not knowing what I wished or intended ; and that Konwell, 
 ^t last, drew me forcibly to the mouth of the cave. 
 
 9. There we stood, each one brandishing his hunting- 
 knife in his right hand, and holding the extinguished torch 
 in the left ; as we looked on each other, we scarcely knew 
 whether to laugh or to be frightened at the strange figures 
 we made. We were black with powder-smoke, covered with 
 sweat and blood, and our clothing torn to rags. 
 
 10. Konwell complained of a pain in his breast. I opened 
 the bosom of his shirt, and found two deep gashes made by 
 the panther's claws, extending from the left shoulder to the 
 pit of the stomach. I also received a few scratches, but our 
 stout hunting-shirts were torn to shreds. 
 
 11. Until this moment, neither of us had felt that we 
 were wounded ; and even now, before we began to think of 
 dressing those wounds, we made a large fire at the mouth of 
 the cavern, in order to prevent the panther from coming 
 forth. This done, we sat down beside the genial blaze to 
 wash and bind up our scratches, and consult on what plan it 
 was now best to proceed. 
 
 12. That the panther was still in the cave we were 
 certain ; but, whether living or dead, we did not know : at 
 all events, he was wounded ; for our hunting-knives were 
 covered with blood quite up to the hilt. But we had no 
 choice left ; we must return ; for our guns and Konwell' s 
 powder-flask, which the animal dragged off with him, still 
 lay within the cavern. We therefore plucked up new 
 courage ; and, having relighted our torches, we brandished 
 our knives, and prepared, though not without some heart 
 throbbings, once more to enter the panther's den. 
 
 13. With light and cautious steps, lest we might be as 
 unpleasantly surprised as we had been when we made our 
 hasty retreat, we advanced, holding our torches before >us, 
 
 4 U 1^ 
 
154 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 to the spot where we had dropped our guns, and without 
 meeting with any hinderance from our enemy. Once mor« 
 in possession of our trusty weapons, we reloaded them, and 
 stepped forward with lighter hearts, yet still with great 
 caution, when Konwell exclaimed, as he raised the flaming 
 pine high above his head, and pointed with it in a certain 
 direction, " See ! there he is /" 
 
 14. This was the first word that had been spoken since we 
 reentered the cavern. I looked in the indicated direction, 
 and there, indeed, lay the panther, stretched out at full 
 length, but no* longer dangerous. His eyes were set, his 
 limbs were rigid, — the last agony was over. We skinned 
 and cut him up as he lay. All three bullets had struck him, 
 and both knives penetrated his body; and it must have been 
 in the death-struggle that he leaped upon us. 
 
 15. When our work was ended, and we again came to the 
 open air, the sun was low in the horizon, and all haste was 
 necessary that we should set out on our forest-path without 
 further delay. Our wounds smarted not a little, and, 
 although we took time once more to wash them, they became 
 so stiff that our progress was both toilsome and tedious. 
 We soon became convinced that we should not succeed in 
 reaching our companions while daylight remained, and we 
 determined to bivouac for the night, at the foot of a rocky 
 declivity, which promised a good shelter from the cutting 
 wind. 
 
 16. To add to our discomfort, hunger began to make itself 
 painfully felt ; but this was soon overpowered by weariness, 
 and, having gathered up the dry pine branches, we kindled 
 up a good fire, and, without troubling ourselves to prepare 
 any thing for supper, we stretched ourselves on the grass 
 before it, and found the warmth most grateful. 
 
 17. Worn out by the toils of the day, in a few minutes 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 155 
 
 Konwell was fast asleep ; but, although much inclined to 
 follow his example, I was prevented by the restlessness of 
 my dog, which seemed to wish to warn me of the presence 
 of danger. The faithful animal, cringing closely to me, laid 
 his nose on my shoulder, raising his head from time to time, 
 and whiiied, as though he wished to communicate something, 
 and then, for a few moments, would remain quiet. Then, 
 suddenly, he would rise up as in the attitude of listening, 
 occasionally uttering a low growl. 
 
 18. Completely awakened by this strange behavior on the 
 part of my faithful dog, it seemed to me as if I heard a 
 slight rustling among the dry bushes, and, rising up to a 
 half-sitting posture, I looked toward the rock behind me, 
 and, to my great astonishment, became aware of a pair of 
 glaring eyes fastened upon me. As my head was between 
 the fire and those fearful eyes, I could plainly distinguish 
 the fiery balls as, reflected on by the red light, they peered 
 above the naked rocks. 
 
 19. It was a panther, and evidently, from the position in 
 which I saw it, was ready for a spring. Happily on this, as 
 on every other night, my trusty gun lay close beside me. I 
 seized it, and, half rising, so that the fire behind me afibrded 
 light for a steady aim, I leveled it exactly between the eyes. 
 I fired, the bullet sped on its deadly errand, and the crack 
 of the noble rifle, thundering against the steep rocks, re- 
 turned with loud and prolonged echo. 
 
 f 0. Konwell, to whom the report of a gun was ever the 
 sweetest music, now started up, as if roused by an electric 
 shock, and grasped his gun. The dog continued his barking, 
 smelling all around, and looking in my face as if to inquire 
 in what direction he should go. There was no rustling 
 movement on the rock, and the bullet must have taken 
 effect. 
 
156 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 21. Konwell shook his head as he inquired, " Why I had 
 shot?" Without answering, I began to reload mj gun: 
 this finished, I took up a blazing pine brand from the fire, 
 and proceeded to climb the steep wall of rock, that raised 
 itself like a barrier, about twenty steps distant from the 
 spot upon which we rested. Here I found an old ^panther, 
 the largest I had ever seen, lying dead — my well-directed 
 bullet had finished him. I flung the body over the rock, 
 and my old comrade dragged him to the fire. 
 
 22. The ball had struck him directly in the right eye, 
 passing through the brain. He was a fearful-looking animal, 
 with terrible teeth and claws, and the more to be dreaded, 
 as, when we cut him up, his stomach was found entirely 
 empty. I believed that hunger had driven him so close to 
 the fire ; but Konwell thought he had scented the fresh 
 venison we had with us. Be that as it may, there was little 
 doubt but that he would have made a leap, as soon as the 
 intervening fire had burned down ; to its friendly presence, 
 therefore, on this occasion, as a means of Providence, we 
 owed our lives. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What had Konwell driven into a den ? 2. "What prep- 
 aration did he make, before entering into the cavern ? 3. How far had tho 
 men proceeded before they saw the panther ? 4. Describe the appearance 
 of the panther, as they came near him after the first shot. 5. What did tho 
 panther do after the men both fired at him ? 6. Did they finally succeed in 
 killing the panther ? t. Describe the manner in which they killed another 
 panther. 
 
 LESSON XL. 
 
 Rap' id$, part of a river where the ^ A hot', sea term used in hailing a 
 
 current is swift. | Quaff, drink largely. [vesseL 
 
 Tur' bu lencb, violent agitation. Hoist, raise ; lift up. [g^aga 
 
 Helm, instrument for steering a ves- Blas phem' ing, uttering impious lan- 
 
 Ei cub' aiQN, tour ; ramble. [sel. \ Sheiek' ing, screaming ; crying out. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 257 
 
 THE POWER OF HABIT* 
 
 John. B. Gough. 
 
 1. I REMEMBER once riding from Buffalo to the Niagara 
 Falls. I said to a gentleman, " What river is that, sir?" 
 
 " That," said he, " is Niagara river." 
 
 2. "Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I; "bright, 
 and fair, and glassy. How far off are the rapids ?" 
 
 " Only a mile or two," was the reply. 
 
 3. "Is it possible that only a mile from us, we shall find 
 the water in the turbulence which it must show near the 
 Falls'?" 
 
 " You will find it so, sir." And so I found it ; and the 
 first sight of Niagara I shall never forget. 
 
 4. Now, launch your bark on that Niagara river ; it is 
 bright, smooth, beautiful, and glassy. There is a ripple at 
 the bow ; the silver wake you leave behind, adds to your 
 enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars, sails, and 
 helm in proper trim, and you set out on your pleasure 
 excursion. 
 
 5. Suddenly, some one cries out from the bank, ^'- Young 
 men J ahoy .'" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 ''''The rapids are below youV^ 
 
 6. " Ha ! ha ! we have heard of the rapids ; but we are 
 not such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, then we 
 shall up with the helm, and steer to the shore ; we will set 
 the mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to the land. 
 Then on, boys ; don't be alarmed, — there is no danger." 
 
 7. ^^ Young men^ ahoy there T'' 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " The rapids are below you .'" 
 
 8. "Ha! ha! we will laugh and quaff; all things 
 delight us. What care we for the future !' No man ever 
 
158 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 saw it. Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. We will 
 enjoy life while we ma-y, — will catch pleasure as it ilies. 
 This is enjoyment ; time enough to steer out of danger 
 ■when we are sailing swiftly with the current." 
 
 9. {ff) "YouNa MEN, ahoy!" 
 ^'What isit?" 
 
 "Beware ! beware! The rapids are below you!" 
 
 10. " Now you see the water foaming all around. See 
 how fast you pass that point ! Up with the helm I Now 
 turn! Pull hard! (=) Quick! quick! quick! pull for 
 your lives ! pull till the hlood starts from your nostrils, and 
 the veins stand like whip-cords upon your brow ! Set the 
 mast in the socket ! hoist the sail ! {si) Ah ! ah ! it is too 
 late ! Shrieking, howling, blaspheming ; over they go." 
 
 11. Thousands go over the rapids of intemperance every 
 year, through the power of habit^ crying all the while, 
 *' When I find out that it* is iiijuring we, I will give it up .'" 
 
 Questions. — 1. Where are the Niagara Falls ? 2. How does the water 
 appear just above tlie Falls ? 3. How does it appear farther up ? 4. What 
 reply are the young men represented as making, when first told the rapids 
 were below them ? 5. What, when told the second time ? 6. What must 
 they do, to escape destruction ? T. What is said of fhe power of habit ? 
 
 LESSON XLI. 
 
 Be sot' ted, stupefied. s Plight' ed, pledged. 
 
 Bur lesqu' ed, mocked ; derided, j For sworn', perjured. 
 
 De fi' ed, set at defiance. Stamp' ed, impressed ; fixed deeply. 
 
 Cher' ish ed, fostered ; encouraged. Blight, blasting disease. 
 
 Strew' ed, scattered ; spread. j A tone', make reparation. 
 
 Liv' id, discolored ; black and blue, j Pro claim' ed, openly declared. 
 
 Mir' ror ed, reflected, as in a glass. \ Loathe, detest ; abhor. 
 
 Re veal' ing$, disclosures. \ Bev' er age, drink. 
 
 *^ Temperate drinking. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 159 
 
 These verses should be read in a firm, half-indignant, yet imploring 
 tone of voice, — except the last verse, which should be expressed in a very 
 decide**! and impassioned manner. 
 
 THE DRUNKARO^S DAUGHTER** 
 
 1. Go, feel what I have felt, 
 
 Go, bear what I have borne ; 
 Sink 'neath a blow a father dealt. 
 
 And the cold, proud world's scorn; 
 Thus struggle on from year to year. 
 
 Thy sole relief, — the scalding tear. 
 
 2. Go, w^eep as I have wept, 
 
 O'er a loved father's fall, 
 See every cherished promise swept,— 
 
 Youth's sweetness turned to gall ; 
 Hope's faded flowers strewed all the way 
 That led me up to woman's day. 
 
 3. Go, kneel as I have knelt ; 
 
 Implore, beseech, and pray, 
 Strive the besotted heart to melt, 
 
 The downward course to stay j 
 Be cast with bitter curse aside, — 
 Thy prayers burlesqued, thy tears defied. 
 
 4. Go, stand where I have stood. 
 
 And see the strong man bow ; 
 With gnashing teeth, lips bathed in blood. 
 
 And cold and livid brow ; 
 Go, catch his wandering glance, and see 
 
 There mirrored, his soul's misery. 
 
 * These beautiful and touching verses were written by a young lady, in reply 
 to a friend who had called her a monomaniac on the subject of temperance 
 
160 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. Go, hear what I have heard, — 
 
 The sobs of sad despair, 
 As memory's feeling fount hath stirred. 
 
 And its revealings there 
 Have told him what he might have been, 
 Had he the drunkard's fate foreseen. 
 
 6. Go to my mother's side. 
 
 And her crushed spirit cheer ; 
 Thine own deep anguish hide, 
 
 Wipe from her cheek the tear ; 
 Mark her dimmed eye, — her furrowed brow, 
 The gray that streaks her dark hair now ; 
 Her toil-worn frame, her trembling limb. 
 And trace the ruin back to him 
 Whose plighted faith, in early youth. 
 Promised eternal love and truth ; 
 But who, forsworn, hath yielded up 
 That promise to the deadly cup. 
 And led her down from love and light, 
 From all that made her pathway bright, 
 And chained her there 'mid want and strife, 
 That lowly thing, — a drunkard's wife ! 
 And stamped on childhood's brow so mild. 
 That withering blight, a drunkard^ s child! 
 
 7. Gp, hear, and see, and feel, and know. 
 
 All that my soul liath felt and known. 
 Then look upon the wine- cup's glow; 
 
 See if its brightness can atone ; 
 Think if its flavor you will try. 
 If all proclaimed, '" Ti5 drink and dieP 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 161 
 
 8. Tell me I hate the bowl ; 
 Hate is a feeble word : 
 (/) I loathe^ ABHOR, — my very soul 
 With strojig disgust is stirred. 
 Whene'er I see, or hear, or tell, 
 
 Of the DARK BEVERAGE OF HELL !! 
 
 Questions. — 1. By whom was this poetry written ? 2. What circum- 
 stance induced her to write it ? 3. What is the meaning of monomaniac ? 
 Ans. One who is deranged in a single faculty of the mind, or with regard to 
 a particular subject, the other faculties being in regular exercise. 4. What 
 reasons does she assign for her hatred of alcoholic drink ? 5. What does 
 she say of her mother ? 6. With what tone of voice should the last verse 
 be read? See page 40, Rule 4. '7. Why are some words and sentences 
 printed in Italics and Capitals? See page 22, Note III. 
 
 — ^^->^9^^^^' 
 
 LESSON XLII. 
 
 Rec' om)$, accounts ; minutes. \ Mo rose', sour ; ill-humored. 
 
 Ad vent' ure$, doings ; strange oc- j Re volt' ing, disgusting ; abhorrent. 
 En cum' ber, load ; clog, [currences. Con tem' plate, consider ; think 
 Grat I Fi ca' TiON, indulgence. | Rel' ic, remains. [upon. 
 
 Scheme, plan ; progress. [eration. In ves' ti gate, examine ; look into. 
 De lib er a' TiON, thought; consid- Ac com' plish ed, eSected. 
 Lux u' Ri ous, pleasure-lovihg. Pic turesque,' (pikiyuresJc^,) grand] 
 
 Ex PE Di" tion, tour ; enterprise. i beautiful ; picture-like. 
 
 THE TWO YOUNG TRAVELERS. 
 
 Merry's Musettm. 
 
 1. Horace and Herman, two young men who were 
 friends, set out to travel in distant countries. Before they 
 departed, each had formed a pta7i of proceeding. Horace 
 determined to give himself up entirely to pleasure, — to go 
 wherever his humor might dictate, — and to keep no records 
 
152 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 of his adventures. In short, he resolved to erijoy himself 
 as much as possible, and, by no means, to encumber his 
 mind with cares, duties, or troubles of any kind. 
 
 2. Herman was as fond of amusement as Horace ; but the 
 mode he adopted for the gratification of his wishes, was 
 quite different. In the first place, he made out a scheme 
 of his travels : he procured maps, read books, and, after 
 mature deliberation, adopted a certain route, as most likely 
 to afibrd him pleasure as well as instruction. 
 
 3. In the formation of this plan, he spent several weeks ; 
 and, in this occupation, he found quite as much satisfaction 
 as he afterwards did in traveling. Thus he obtained one 
 great advantage over his idle and luxurious friend, who fool- 
 ishly thought that the essence of enjoyment lay in freedom 
 from thought, restraint, and toil. Even before they set out 
 on their journey, Herman had actually found nearly as 
 m^uch pleasure as Horace received in the whole course of his 
 expedition. 
 
 4. The two young men started together ; and, as there were 
 then no canals or railroads, they both set out on foot. They 
 had not proceeded far before they separated, — Horace taking 
 one road and Herman another. 
 
 5. After the lapse of three years, they both returned; 
 but what a diiGference between them-! Horace was morose 
 and dissatisfied ; he had seen a good deal of the world, but, 
 as he had traveled with no other design than to gratify 
 himself from hour to hour, he had soon exhausted the cup 
 of pleasure, and found nothing at the bottom but the bitter 
 dregs of discontent. f 
 
 6. He pursued pleasure, till, at last, he found the pursuit 
 to be distasteful and revolting. He grew tired even of 
 amusement. He indulged his tastes, humors, and passions, 
 until indulgence itself was disgusting. When he returned 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 1Q^ 
 
 to his friends, lie had laid up nothing in his memory, by the 
 relation of which he could amuse them ; he had kept no 
 record of things he had seen ; he brought back no store of 
 pleasing and useful recollections for himself, or others. 
 Such was the result of three years' travel for pleasure. 
 
 7. It was quite otherwise with Herman. Adhering to his 
 plans, he visited a great many places, and, each day, he 
 recorded in his journal what he had seen. Whenever he 
 met with an interesting object, he stopped to contemplate it. 
 If it was some aged relic, famous in history, he took pains to 
 investigate its story, and to write it down. If it w^as an 
 object of interest to the eye, he made a sketch of it in a 
 book which he kept for that purpose. 
 
 8. In this way, Herman accomplished three good objects. 
 In the first place, by taking pleasure in a moderate way, 
 and mixing with it a little toil and industry, he prevented 
 that cloying surfeit which, at last, sickened and disgusted 
 Horace. 
 
 9. In the second place, he greatly increased his enjoy- 
 ments by the plan he adopted. Merely executing a plan 
 is agreeable, and a source of great pleasure. It is natural 
 to derive happiness from following out a design, — from 
 seeing, hour by hour, day by day, how results come about, 
 in conformity to our intentions. 
 
 10. But this was not the o?ili/ advantage which Herman 
 received from his system. The very toil he bestowed ; the 
 investigations he made ; the pleasant thoughts and curious 
 knowledge that were unfolded to his mind ; the excitement 
 he found in his exertions ; the pleasure he took in drawing 
 picturesque scenes ; all constituted a rich harvest of pleasure, 
 which was wholly denied to Horace. 
 
 11. Thus it was that labor and industry, exerted in car- 
 rying out a plan, afforded the young traveler a vast deal of 
 
154 SANDERS* UNIOH SERIES. 
 
 gratification. The very things that Horace looked upon as 
 hateful, were, in fact, the sources of his friend's most per- 
 manent enjoyment. 
 
 12. In the third place, Herman had come back laden 
 "with rich stores of knowledge, observation, and experience. 
 Not only was his journal rich in tales, legends, scenes, inci- 
 dents, and historical records, but in putting these things 
 down on paper, his memory had been improved, and he had 
 acquired the habit of observing and remembering. His 
 mind was full of pleasant things, and nothing could be more 
 interesting than to hear him tell of his travels, and of what 
 he had seen. 
 
 13. While Horace was dull, silent, and sour, Herman 
 was full of conversation, life, and interest. The one was 
 happy', the other unhappy^ ; one was agreeable', the other 
 disagreeable^ ; one had exhausted the cup of pleasure', the 
 other seemed always to have the cup full and sparkling 
 before him\ It was agreed on all hands that Horace was a 
 disagreeable person, and everybody shunned him ; while 
 Herman was considered by all a most agreeable com- 
 panion, and everybody sought his society. 
 
 14. So much for the two travelers ; one^ a luxurious 
 lover of pleasure, who thought only of the passing moment, 
 and, in his folly, abused and threw away his powers of 
 enjoyment ; the other ^ a lover of pleasure also ; but who 
 pursued it moderately, with a wise regard to the future, and 
 careful attention, every day, to the rules of duty ; and who 
 thus secured his true happiness. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What plan had Horace determined to pursue while travel- 
 ing? 2. What was Herman's plan? 3. What is said of Horace, after hia 
 return ? 4. How was it with Herman ? 5. What is said of the two in con- 
 trast ? 6. What effect has the emphasis on the place of the accent in the 
 words unhappy, and disagreeable, 13th paragraph ? See page 22, note Y, 
 
MtfMBER FOUR. -^Q^ 
 
 LESSON XLIII. 
 
 Im' port, meaning. i Ex ul ta' tion, (x like gz^) triumph. 
 
 Geov' el ing, mean ; creeping. Ri' val$, competitors. 
 
 A chieve' MENT, performance. Dig' ni ty, elevation; majesty. 
 
 As PI ra' tiox, wish; ardent desire. | Or' a cle$, wise words or sentences. 
 
 San' guine, ardent ; hopeful. A' pex, hight ; summit. 
 
 Re' al iz ED, attained. | Ten' e ment, dweUing ; here means, 
 
 In spi Ra' tion, natural impulse. Ad mon' ish, warn. [the body. 
 
 State' li ness, dignity ; majesty. j Rapt' ur ous, joyous ; ecstatic. 
 
 Ad vent'urous, daring; enterprising. i An tic i pa' tion, foretaste. 
 
 Phi los' O phy, (philo, love ; sophy, wisdom^) love of wisdom ; reason 
 of things. See Sanders & McElligott's Analysis, page 236, Ex. 334. 
 
 HIGHER! 
 
 1. Higher ! It is a word of noble import. It lifts the 
 soul of man from low and groveling pursuits, to the achieve- 
 ment of great and noble deeds, and ever keeps the object of 
 its aspiration in view, till his most sanguine expectations are 
 fully realized. 
 
 2. Higher ! lisps the infant that clasps its parent's 
 knee, and makes its feeble effort to rise from the floor. It 
 is the first inspiration of childhood to burst the narrow con- 
 fines of the cradle, and to exercise those feeble, tottering 
 limbs, which are to walk forth in the stateliness of manhood. 
 
 3. Higher ! echoes the proud school-boj in his swing ; 
 or, as he climbs the tallest tree of the forest, that he may 
 look down upon his less adventurous comrades with a flush 
 of exultation, — and abroad over the fields, the meadows, and 
 his native village. 
 
 4. Higher ! earnestly breathes the student of philosophy 
 and nature. He has a host of rivals ; but he must excel 
 tl^em all. The midnight oil burns dim ; but he finds light 
 and knowledge in the lamps of heaven, and his soul is never 
 
^QQ SANDEiiS' UJSION SERIES. 
 
 weary, when the last of them is hid by the splendors of the 
 morning. 
 
 5. And Higher ! his voice thunders forth, when t^e 
 dignity of manhood has mantled his form, and the multitude 
 is listening with delight to his oracles, burning with elo- 
 quence, and ringing like true steel in the cause of Fi^eedom 
 and Right. And when time has changed his locks to silver, 
 — when the young and the old unite to do him honor, he 
 still breathes forth from his generous heart fond wishes for 
 their welfare. 
 
 6. Higher yet ! He has reached the apex of earthly 
 honor ; yet liis spirit burns as warm as in youth, though with 
 a steadier and purer light. And even now, while his frail 
 tenement begins to admonish him, that '' the time of his 
 departure is at hand," he looks forward, with rapturous 
 anticipation, to the never-fading glory, attainable only in 
 the presence of the Most High. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What is said of the word Higher, first paragraph ? 2. 
 When does the school-boy say Higher ? 3. What is said of the student ? 
 4. What, when he arrives at manhood ? 5. What, when he becomes old ? 
 6. Where is the passage within the quotation to be found ? Ans. 2 Timothy, 
 4th chapter, 6th verse. 
 
 LESSON XLIV. 
 
 In tens' er, more fervent. > Fu' ry, rage ; madness. 
 
 Stub' born, unyielding ; rugged. \ Rave, rage ; become furious. 
 
 Deem, think ; imagine. \ Hec' tic, habitual ; continuous. 
 Old' en, old ; ancient. Men' tal, intellectual. 
 
 Cling$, sticks ; adheres closely. \ Wield, sway ; exert. 
 
 Gal' lant, fine ; noble. \ Priv' i lege, right ; opportunity. 
 
 T4WN' ING, wide-opening. j Dow' er, gift ; portion. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. IQ'J 
 
 LABOR** 
 
 Cakoline F. Oenb. 
 
 1. Ho, ye who at the anvil toil, 
 
 And strike the sounding blow, 
 Where, from the burning iron's breast, 
 
 The sparks fly to and fro, 
 While answering to the hammer's ring, 
 
 And fire's intenser glow I — 
 Oh, while ye feel 'tis hard to toil 
 
 And sweat the long day through, 
 Eemember, it is harder still 
 
 To have no work to do ! 
 
 2. Ho, ye who till the stubborn soil. 
 
 Whose hard hands guide the plow. 
 Who bend beneath the summer sun. 
 
 With burning cheek and brow ! — 
 Ye deem the curse still clings to earth 
 
 From olden time till now ; 
 But, while ye feel 'tis hard to toil 
 
 And labor all day through, 
 Remember, it is harder still 
 
 jTb have no work to do ! 
 
 3. Ho, ye who plow the sea's blue field. 
 
 Who ride the restless wave, 
 Beneath whose gallant vessel's keel 
 
 There lies a yawning grave. 
 Around whose bark the wint'ry winds 
 
 Like fiends of fury rave ! — 
 
 * These lines were suggested by the simple incident of an industrious 
 ■wood-sawyer's reply to a man who told Kim that his was a hard work. 
 " Yes, it is hard, to be sure ; but it is harder to do 
 answer. 
 
168 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 Oh, while ye feel 'tis hard to toil 
 
 And labor long hours through, 
 Remember, it is harder still 
 
 To have no work to do ! 
 
 4. Ho, ye upon whose fevered cheeks 
 
 The hectic glow is bright, 
 Whose mental toil wears out the day^ 
 
 And half the weary night, 
 Who labor for the souls of men, 
 
 Champions of truth and right I — - 
 Although ye feel your toil is hard, 
 
 Even with this glorious view, 
 Eemember, it is harder still 
 
 To have no work to do I 
 
 5. Ho, all who labor, — all who strive I 
 
 Ye wield a lofty power ; 
 Do with your might, do with your strength. 
 
 Fill every golden hour ! 
 The glorious privilege to do 
 
 Is man's most noble dower. 
 Oh, to your birthright and yourselves 
 
 To your own souls be true ! 
 A weary, wretched life is theirs, 
 
 Who have no work to do ! 
 
 Questions.— 1. "What incident suggested these thoughts to the writer ? 
 2. Who toil at the anvil ? 3. Who till the stubborn soil ? 4. Who plow 
 the sea'g blae wave ? 5. Who toil mentally ? 6. Who labor for the souls 
 of men? 7. What is man's most noble dower? 8. What is said to all 
 these different laborers ? 9. What is the meaning of the suffix less in the 
 word restUss f See Sanders & McElligott's Analysis, page 140, Ex. ]^87. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ^^gg 
 
 LESSON XLV. 
 
 E Lio' IT, draw forth. [informed. ) Ob' sta cle, binderance ; impedi- 
 In tel' lii GENT, knowing ; well- Re volt' ed, shrunk back, [meut 
 Be frain', hold in, or keep back. PoR' ING, earnestly perusing. 
 
 Ig no ra' >ius, ignorant person. | Em' i nence, distinction. 
 Re tort', reply ; answer back. In for ma' tion, knowledge. 
 
 In del' I BLY, in a way not to be ef- II lit' er ate, ignorant; unlearned. 
 Mys'te rie$, profound secrets, [faced. Pro fes' sion, business ; employment. 
 Ab sorb' ed, engrossed ; occupied. Dis' oi plin ed, trained ; instructed. 
 MoR ti Ft ca' tion, deep disappoint- j Con tempt' u ous, scornful ; hatefuL 
 ment, i An tag' o nist, opponent ; adversary. 
 
 THE AMBITIOUS APPRENTICE* 
 
 1. '' How far is it from here to the sun?" asked Harmon 
 Lee of his father's apprentice, James Wallace, intending by 
 the question to elicit some reply that would exhibit the boy's 
 ignorance. 
 
 2. James Wallace, a boy of fourteen, turned his bright, 
 intelligent eyes upon the son of his employer, and replied, 
 '' I don't know, Harmon. How far is it ?" 
 
 3. There was something so honest and earnest in the tone 
 of the boy, that, much as Harmon had felt disposed, at first, 
 to sport with his ignorance, he could not refrain from giving 
 him a true answer. Still, his contempt for the ignorant 
 apprentice was not to be concealed, and he replied, " Ninety- 
 five millions of miles, you ignoramus !" James did not 
 retort ; but, repeating over in his mind the distance named, 
 fixed it indelibly upon his memory. 
 
 4. On the same evening, after he had finished his day's 
 work, he obtained a small text-book on astronomy, which 
 belonged to Harmon Lee, and went up into his garret with a 
 candle, and there, alone, attempted to dive into the mysteries 
 of that sublime science. As he read, the earnestness of his 
 
 4U I- 8 ' 
 
 r 
 
170 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 • 
 
 attention fixed nearly every fact upon his mind. So intent 
 was he, that he perceived not the flight of lime, until the 
 town-clock struck ten. 
 
 5. He lay down upon his hard bed, and gave full scope to 
 his thouo'hts. Hour after hour passed away, but he could 
 not sleep, so absorbed was he in reviewing the new and won- 
 derful things he had read. At last, wearied nature gave way, 
 and he fell into a slumber, filled with dreams of planets, 
 moons, comets, and fixed stars. 
 
 6. The next morning the apprentice boy resumed his place 
 at the work-bench with a new feeling ; and, with this feeling, 
 was mingled one of regret, that he could not go to school as 
 well as Harmon. 
 
 ^' But I can study at night," while he is asleep," he said to 
 himself 
 
 7. Just then Harmon Lee came into the shop, and, 
 approaching James, said, for the purpose of teasing him, 
 *'How big round is the earth, James?" 
 
 '' Twenty-jive thousand miles^^^ was the quick reply. 
 
 8. Harmon looked surprised, for a moment, and then 
 responded, with a sneer, — for he was not a kind-hearted boy, 
 but, on the contrary, very selfish, and disposed to injure 
 rather than do good, to others, — " Oh ! how wonderfully wise 
 you are all at once ! And no doubt you can tell how many 
 moons Jupiter has ? Come, let us hear." 
 
 9. " Jupiter has four moons," James answered, with some- 
 thing of exultation in his tone. 
 
 " And, no doubt, you can tell how many rings it has ?" 
 *' Jupiter has no rings. Saturn has rings, and Jupiter 
 belts," James replied, in a decisive tone. 
 
 10. For a moment or two Harmon was silent with sur- 
 prise and mortification, to think that his father's apprentice^ 
 whom he esteemed so far below him, should be possessed of 
 
KUMBER FOUR. 171 
 
 knowledge equal to his, and on the points in reference to 
 "which he had chosen to question him, — and that he should be 
 able to convict him of an error, into which he had purposely 
 fallen. 
 
 11. "I should like to know how long it is since you 
 became so wonderfully wise," said Harmon, wnth a sneer. 
 
 "Not very long," James replied calmly. "I have been 
 reading one of your books on astronomy." 
 
 12. "I should like to know what business you have to 
 touch one of my books ! You had better be minding your 
 work. " 
 
 " I did not neglect it, Harmon ; I read at nighty after I 
 was done with my work ; and I did not hurt your book." 
 
 *'I don't care if you didnH hurt it. You are not going 
 to have my books, I can tell you. So, you just let them 
 alone." 
 
 13. Poor James's heart sank within him at this unexpected 
 obstacle, so suddenly thrown in his way. He had no money 
 of his own to buy, and knew of no one from whom he could 
 borrow the book, that had become so necessary to his happi- 
 ness. " Do, Harmon," he said, " lend me the book; I wdll 
 take good care of it." 
 
 " No ; I will not. And don't you dare to touch it," was 
 the angry reply. 
 
 14. James Walkce knew well enough the selfish disposi- 
 tion of Harmon, to be convinced that there was now but little 
 hope of his having the use of his books, except by stealth ; 
 and from that his naturally open and honest principles 
 revolted. All day he thought earnestly of the means 
 whereby he should be able to obtain a book on astronomy, 
 to quench the ardent thirst he had created in his own mind. 
 
 15. He was learning the trade of a blind-maker. Having 
 been already an apprentice for two years, and. being Indus- 
 
172 SANDERS' UNIOIV SERIES. 
 
 trious and intelligent, he had acquired a readiness with tools, 
 and much skill in some parts of his trade. While sitting 
 alone, after he had finished his work for the day, it occurred 
 to him that he might, by working in the evening, earn some 
 money, and with it buy such books as he wanted. 
 
 16. By consent of his employer, he succeeded in getting 
 a small job, from one of his neighbors ; and, in a short time, 
 by working evenings, he obtained sufficient money to pur- 
 chase a book of his own, and had a half dollar left, with 
 which he bought a second-hand dictionary. Every night 
 found him poring over his books ; and, as soon as it was 
 light enough in the morning to see, he was up and reading. 
 During the day, his mind was pondering over the things he 
 had read, while his hands were diligently employed in the 
 labor assigned him. 
 
 17. It occurred, just at this time, that a number of benev- 
 olent individuals established, in the town where James lived, 
 one of those excellent institutions, an Apprentices' Library. 
 To this he apphed, and obtained the books he needed. And 
 thus, did this poor apprentice boy lay the foundation of 
 future eminence and usefulness. At the age of twenty-one, 
 he was master of his trade ; and, what was more, had laid 
 up a vast amount of general and scientific information. 
 
 18. Let us now turn to mark the progress of the young 
 student, Harmon Lee, in one of the best seminaries in his 
 native city, and afterwards at college. The idea that he was 
 to be a lawyer, soon took possession of his mind, and this 
 caused him to feel contempt for other boys, who were merely 
 designed for trades or store-keeping. 
 
 19. Like too many others, he had no love for learning. 
 To be a lawyer he thought would be much more honorable 
 than to be a mere mechanic ; and, for this reason almie, he 
 desired to be one. As for James Wallace, the poor illiterate 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 172 
 
 apprentice, he was most heartily despised, and never treated 
 by Harmon with the least degree of kind consideration. 
 
 20. At the age of eighteen, Harmon was sent away to one 
 of the eastern universities, and there remained until he was 
 twenty years of age, when he graduated, and came home 
 with the honorary title of Bachelor of Arts. On the very 
 day that James completed his term of apprenticeship, 
 Harmon was admitted to the bar. 
 
 21. From some cause, James determined he would make 
 law Jus profession. To the acquirement of a knowledge of 
 legal matters, therefore, he bent all the energies of a well 
 disciplined mind. Two years passed away in an untiring 
 devotion to the studies he had assigned himself, and he then 
 made application for admission to the bar. 
 
 22. Young Wallace passed his examinations with some 
 applause, and the first case on which he was employed, 
 chanced to be one of great difficulty, which required all his 
 skill ; the lawyer on the opposite side was Harmon Lee, 
 who entertained for his father's apprentice the utmost con- 
 tempt. 
 
 23. The cause came on. There was a profound silence 
 and a marked attention and interest, when the young stranger 
 arose in the court- room to open the case. A smile of con- 
 tempt curled the lip of Harmon Lee, but Wallace saw it not. 
 The prominent points of the case were presented in plain, 
 but concise language to the court ; and a few remarks bear- 
 ing upon its merits being made, the young lawyer took his 
 seat, and gave room for the defense. 
 
 24. Instantly Harmon Lee was on his feet, and began 
 referring to the points presented by his "very learned 
 brother," in a very flippant manner. There were those 
 present who marked the light that kindled in the eye of 
 Wallace, and the flash that passed over his countenance at 
 
17'4 SANDERS' UjVION SERIES, 
 
 the first contemptuous word and tone that were uttered by 
 his antagonist at the bar. These soon gave place to atten- 
 tention, and an air of conscious power. Nearly an hour had 
 passed when Harmon resumed his seat with a look of exulta- 
 tion, which was followed by a pitying and contemptuous 
 smile, as Wallace agam slowly rose. 
 
 25. Ten minutes, however, had not passed when that 
 smile had changed to a look 'of surprise, mortification, and 
 alarm. The young lawyer's first speech showed him to be a 
 man of calm, deep, systematic thought, — well skilled in points 
 of law and in authorities, — and, more than all, a lawyer of 
 practical and comprehensive views. When he sat down, no 
 important point in the case had been left untouched, and none 
 that had been touched, required further elucidation. 
 
 26. Lee followed briefly, in a vain attempt to torture his 
 languitge and break down his positions. But he felt that he 
 was contending with weapons whose edges were turned at 
 every blow. When he took his seat again, Wallace merely 
 remarked that he was prepared, without further argument, 
 to submit the case to the court. 
 
 27. The case was accordingly submitted, and a decision 
 unhesitatingly made in £ivor of the plaintiff, or Wallace's 
 client. From that hour James W^allace took his true position. 
 The despised apprentice became the able and profound 
 lawyer^ and was esteemed for real talent and real moral 
 worth, which, when combined, ever place their possessor in 
 his true position. Ten years from that day, Wallace was 
 elevated to the bench, while Lee, a second-rate lawyer, never 
 rose above that position. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What profession did James study, after he had learned 
 his trade? 2. Who was his opponent in the first cause he tried ? 3. Which 
 won tho case ? 4. What did James finally become ? 
 
SUMBER FOUR. I75 
 
 LESSON XLVI. 
 
 Taun-ting LY, insultingly. . Buf' fet ed, struggled against. 
 Dm' Ni Fi ED, uoble. Tiie4LL$, bondage. 
 
 Dis' PU TANTS, persons disputing. i Des ror' ic, tyrannical. 
 Re^ Lu' Tiox, decision. Op pres' sion, tyranny. 
 
 Im a6' in^ ED, fancied. [tion. \ Pen' u ry, poverty ; destitution. 
 
 Rb flec' tion, thought ; considera- | Peed e ces' sor$, those who ha\© 
 
 Su pe EI or' I TY, preeminence. ( gone before. 
 Sub or' di nate, one inferior in posi- Dis pen sa' tion$, dealings, 
 
 tion. i Cri te' ri on, standard ; measure. 
 
 *^B0 WAS FKANKLIK/' 
 
 Anoit. 
 
 1. " Oh, you're a ^prentice P^ said a little boy, the other 
 day, tauntingly, to his companion. Tiie boy addressed 
 turned proudly round, and, while the fire of injured pride, 
 and the look of pity were strangely blended in his counte- 
 nance, coolly answered, '' So was Fraaklbi .'" 
 
 2. This dignified reply struck me forcibly, and I turned 
 to mark the disputants more closely. The former, I per- 
 ceived by his dress, was of a higher class in society than his 
 humble, yet more dignified companion. The latter was a 
 sprightly, active lad, scarce twelve years old, and coarsely, 
 but neatly attired. But, young as he was, there was visible 
 in his countenance much of genius, manly dignity, and 
 determinate resolution ; while that of the former showed 
 only fostered pride, and the imagined superiority of riches. 
 
 3. That little fellow, thought we, gazing at our young 
 hero, displays already much of the man, though his calling 
 be a humble one ; and, though poverty extends to him her 
 dreary, cheerless reality, still he looks on the brightest side 
 of the scene, and already rises in anticipation from poverty 
 and wretchedness ! Once, '' so was Pranklin^^'' and the 
 world may one day witness in our little '• ^ prentice^ as great 
 
176 SANPERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 a philosopher as they have already seen in his noble pattern ! 
 And we passed on, buried in meditation. 
 
 4. The motto of our infantile philosopher contains much, — 
 too much to be forgotten, and should be engraven on the 
 minds of all. What can better cheer man in a humble call- 
 ing, than the reflection that the greatest and the best of 
 earth — the greatest statesmen, the brightest philosophers, 
 and the proudest warriors — have once graced the same pro^ 
 fession? 
 
 5. Look at Franklin ! He who 
 
 With the thunder talked, as friend to friend, 
 And wove his garland of the lightning's wing, 
 In sportive twist." 
 
 What was he ? A printer I once a subordinate in a prints 
 ing office ! Poverty stared him in the face ; but her blank, 
 hollow look, could nothing daunt him. He struggled against 
 a harder current than most are called to encounter ; but he 
 did not yield. He pressed manfully onward; bravely buf- 
 feted misfortune's billows, and gained the desired haven ! 
 
 6. Look at Cincinnatus ! At the call of his country he 
 laid aside the plow and seized the sword. But, wielding it 
 with entire success, when his country was no longer endan- 
 gered, and public afiairs needed not his longer stay, "he 
 beat his sword into a plowshare," and returned with honest 
 delight to his little farm. 
 
 7. Look at Washington ! What was his course of life ? 
 He was first a farmer ; next a Commander in chief of the 
 hosts of freedom, fighting for the liberation of his country 
 from the thralls of despotic oppression ; next, called to the 
 highest seat of government, by his ransomed brethren, a 
 President of the largest Republic on earthy and lastly, a 
 farmer again. 
 
KUMBER FOUR. l*j^ 
 
 8. What was the famous Ben Jonson ? He was first a 
 brick-layer, or mason ! What was he in after years ? 'Tis 
 needless to answer. 
 
 What was Burns ? An Ayrshire plowman ! What was 
 he in after life, in the estimation of his countrymen, and the 
 world ? Your library gives the answer ! 
 
 9. But shall we go on, and call up, in proud array, all the 
 mighty host of worthies that have lived and died, who were 
 cradled in ihe lap of penury, and received their first lessons 
 in the school of affliction' ? Nay^ ; we have cited instances 
 enough already, — ^yea, more than enough to prove the point 
 in question — namely, that there is no profession, however 
 low in the opinion of the world, but has been honored with 
 eartKs greatest and worthiest. 
 
 10. Young man I Does the iron hand of misfortune 
 press hard upon you, and disappointments well-nigh sink 
 your despairing soul' ? Have courage ! Mighty ones have 
 been your predecessors, and have withstood the current 
 of opposition that threatened to overwhelm their fragile 
 bark. 
 
 11. Do you despise your humble station, and repine that 
 Providence has not placed you in some nobler sphere' ? Mur- 
 mur not against the dispensations of an All- wise Creator ! 
 Bemember that wealth is no criterion of moral rectitude, or 
 intellectual worth, — that riches dishonestly gained, are a last- 
 ing curse, — that virtue and uprightness work out a rich re- 
 ward, — and that 
 
 " An honest man's the noblest work of God." 
 
 12. And when dark Disappointment comes, do not wither 
 at her stare ; but press forward, and the prize is yours ! It 
 was thus with Franklin, — it can be thus with you. He 
 stroTo for the prize, and he won it ! So may you ! 'Ti» 
 
 4 U 8* 
 
178 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 well worth contending for ; and success may attend you I and 
 the "stars" will be brighter, as the "stripes" wear deeper. 
 
 Questions — 1. What did the rich boy saj of the poor boy ? 2. What 
 reply did the poor boy make ? 3. What other examples are cited of eminent 
 men who were once poor ? 4. What is said of Cincinnatus ? 5. Of Wash- 
 ington ? 6. Of Ben Jonson ? 7. Of Burns ? 8. What do all these examples 
 prove ? 9. What encouragement is given to young men? 10. What are the 
 full forms of the words youWe, ^prentice 1 
 
 'm£^' 
 
 LESSON XLVII. 
 
 Mag' IC, power of enchantment. ) Yest' ure, garment. 
 
 Con ten' tion, strife ; controversy. Se date', calm ; quiet. 
 
 Tra m" tion, facts or events handed Fan tas' tic, fanciful ; visionary. 
 
 down from age to age. Ra' di ance, brightness ; luster. 
 
 Sub' tile, thin ; slight ; slender. In vec' tive, railing speech. 
 
 In vest' ED, clothed. [crest. I de' al, imaginary. 
 
 Crest' ed, adorned with a plume or Fa tigu' ing, wearisome ; toUsome. 
 Az' URE, light-blue ; sky-colored. \ As pir' ing, aiming ; seeking to rise. 
 
 Per spect' ive, (per, through; spect, to see; iye, having the <power,) 
 having the power to see through ; a view through. 
 
 Un Di vert' ED, (uN, not; Di, aside; verted, turned,) not turned aside; 
 unheeded. 
 
 NOW AMD THEN. 
 
 Jake Taylob. 
 
 1. In distant days, — of wild romance, 
 
 Of magic, mist, and fable, — 
 When stones could argue, trees advance,* 
 
 And brutes to talk were able, — 
 When shrubs and flowers were said to preach, 
 
 And manage all the parts of speech, — 
 
 „. . — . —     " 
 
 * The reference is to Orpheus, (or' fuse,) an ancient poet and musician of 
 ti*-etyce. The skUl of Orpheus on the lyre, was fabled to have been such as 
 to move the very trees and rocka, and to assemble the beasts around him as 
 he touched its chords. 
 
KUMBER FOUR. I^JQ 
 
 2. 'Twas the7ij no doubt, if 'twas at all, 
 
 (But doubts we need not mention,) 
 That T/ie7i and Now, two adverbs small, 
 
 Engaged in sharp contention ; 
 But how they made each other hear, 
 Tradition doth not make appear. 
 
 3. Then was a sprite of subtile frame, 
 
 With rainbow tints invested, — 
 On clouds of dazzling light she came, 
 
 And stars her foi-ehead crested ; 
 Her sparkhng eyes of azure hue. 
 Seemed borrowed from the distant blue. 
 
 4. Now rested on the solid earth, 
 
 And sober w^as her vesture ; 
 She seldom either grief or mirth 
 
 Expressed, by word or gesture ; 
 Composed, sedate, and firm she stood. 
 And looked industrious, calm, and good. 
 
 5. Theti sang a wild, fantastic song, 
 
 Light as the gale she flies on. 
 Still stretching, as she sailed along. 
 
 Toward the far horizon, 
 Where clouds of radiance, fringed with gold, 
 O'er hills of emerald beauty rolled. 
 
 6. Noiv rarely raised her sober eye 
 
 To view that golden distance ; 
 Nor let one idle minute fly 
 
 In hope of Theri's assistance; 
 But still with busy hands she stood, 
 Intent on doing present good. 
 
180 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 7. She ate the sweet, but homely fare, 
 
 That passing moments brought her j 
 While Theii^ expecting dainties rare, 
 
 Despised such bread and water ; 
 And waited for the fruits and flowers 
 Of future, still receding hours. 
 
 8. Now, venturing once to ask her why, 
 
 She answered with invective ; 
 And pointed, as she made reply, 
 
 Toward that long perspective 
 Of years to come, — in distant blue, 
 Wherein she meant to live and do. 
 
 9. "Alas!" says she, '■^ how hard you toU! 
 
 With undiverted sadness ; 
 Behold yon land of wine and oil ! 
 
 Those sunny hills of gladness ! 
 Those joys I wait, with eager brow," — 
 ^^And so you always will .'" said Now, 
 
 10. " That fairy land that looks so real, 
 
 Recedes as you pursue it ; 
 Thus, while you wait for times ideal, 
 
 / take my work and do it ; 
 Intent to form, when time is gone, 
 A pleasant past to look upon." 
 
 11. "Ah, well," said Then, "I envy not 
 
 Your dull, fatiguing labors, — 
 Aspiring to a brighter lot. 
 
 With thousands of my neighbors ; 
 Soon as I reach that golden hill," — 
 "But that J " says Now^ "you never willP^ 
 
'NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 181 
 
 12. "And e'en suppose you should," said she, 
 "(Though mortal ne'er attained it,) 
 Your nature you must change with me, 
 
 The moment you have gained it ; 
 Since hope fulfilled, (you must allow,) 
 Turns Now to Then, and Then to Now.''^ 
 
 Questions. — 1. What two words are represented as holding a contro- 
 versy? 2. Describe the appearance of each. 3, "When did Then pro- 
 pose to do something ? 4. How did Now act ? 5. What answer did Then 
 make, when Now asked her why she waited ? 6. What was Now^s reply ? 
 V. What did Now finally say to Then f 8. How should passages, within a 
 parenthesis, be read? See Sanders' Union Reader, Number Three, 
 page 20. 
 
 LESSON XLVIII. 
 
 In gen' ious, artful ; skillful. 
 Strat' a gem, trick ; artifice. 
 Ex ceed' ED, surpassed. 
 Sig' nal$, signs. 
 
 Am' i ca ble, friendly ; peaceable. 
 Ee pel', (re, hack; pel, to drive,) drive 
 Mu' TU AL, reciprocal. [back. 
 
 Ex traor' di na ry, uncommon. 
 In vet/ er ate, obstinate ; violent. 
 
 Ha rangue', declamatory speech. 
 En ter tain' ed, held ; had. 
 Sus pi" cion, mistrust. 
 En coun' ter ed, met face to face. 
 Ex' E cu ted, carried out. 
 Eor' mi da BLE, fearful ; dreadful. 
 Per fid' i ous, treacherous. 
 Pre cip' i tate ly, headlong. 
 
 In an' I MATE, 
 
 AN INGENIOUS 
 
 STRATAGEM* 
 
 Days op WASHiNofToN. 
 
 1. In the early part of the war, a sergeant and twelve 
 armed men undertook a journey through the wilderness, in 
 the State of New Hampshire. Their route was remote from 
 any settlement, and they were under the necessity of encamp- 
 ing over night in the woods. Nothing material happened 
 
482 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 the first day of their excursion ; but, early in the afternoon 
 of the second, they, from an eminence, discovered a body of 
 armed Indians advancing toward them, whose number rather 
 exceeded their own. 
 
 2. As soon as the whites were perceived by their red 
 brethren, the latter made signals, and the two parties ap- 
 proached each other in an amicable manner. The Indians 
 appeared to be much gratified with meeting the sergeant and 
 his men, whom, they observed, they considered as their pro- 
 tectors. Tiiey said they belonged to a tribe which had raised 
 the hatchet with zeal in the cause of liberty, and were de- 
 termined to do all in their power to repel the common 
 enemy. 
 
 8. They shook hands in friendship. When they had con- 
 versed with each other for some time, and exchanged mutual 
 good wishes, they, at length, separated, and each party trav- 
 eled in a different direction. After proceeding to the distance 
 of a mile or more, the sergeant, who was acquainted with all 
 the different tribes, and knew on which side of the contest 
 they were respectively ranked, halted his men, and addressed 
 them in the following words : 
 
 4. "My brave companions, we must use the utmost 
 caution, or this night may be our last. Should we not make 
 some extraordinary exertions to defend ourselves, to-morrow's 
 sun may find us sleeping, never to wake. You are sur- 
 prised, comrades, at my words, and your anxiety Will not be 
 lessened, when I inform you that we have just passed our 
 most inveterate foe^ who, under the mask of pretended 
 friendship, which you have witnessed, would lull us to security, 
 and, by such means, in the unguarded moments of our midnight 
 slumber, without resistance, seal our fate." 
 
 5. Tlie men with astonishment listened to this short 
 harangue ; and thoir surprise was greater, as not one of 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 183 
 
 them had entertained the suspicion but that thej" had just 
 encountered friends. They all immediately resolved to enter 
 into some scheme for their mutual preservation, and the 
 destruction of their enemies. By the proposal of their 
 leader, the following plan was adopted and executed. 
 
 6. The spot selected for their night's encampment, w^as 
 near a stream of water, which served to cover their rear. 
 They felled a large tree, before which, on the approach of 
 night, a brilliant fire was lighted. Each individual cut a 
 log of wood, about the size of his body, rolled it nicely in 
 his blanket, placed his hat upon one end, and laid it before 
 the fire, that the enemy might be deceived, and mistake it 
 for a man. 
 
 T. After they had thus fitted out logs, equal in number to 
 the sergeant's party, and had so artfully arranged them, that 
 they might be easily mistaken for so many soldiers, the men 
 with loaded muskets placed themselves behind the fallen tree, 
 by which time the shades of evening began to close around. 
 The fire was kept burning brilliantly until late in the even- 
 ing, when it was suffered to decline. 
 
 8. The critical time was now approaching, when an attack 
 might be expected from the Indians : but the sergeant's men 
 rested in their place of concealment with great anxiety, till 
 near midnight, without perceiving any movement of the 
 enemy. At length, a tall Indian was discovered, through 
 the glimmering of the fire, cautiously moving toward them, 
 making no noise, and apparently using every means in his 
 power to conceal himself from any one about the camp. 
 
 9. For a time, his actions showed him to be suspicious 
 that a guard might be stationed to watch any unusual ap- 
 pearance, who would give the alarm in case of danger ; but, 
 all appearing quiet, he ventured forward more boldly, rested 
 upon his toes, and was distinctly seen to move his finger as 
 
J34 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 he numbered each log of wood, or what he supposed to be 
 a human being quietly enjoying repose. 
 
 10. To satisfy himself more fully, as to the number, he 
 counted them over a second time, and cautiously retired. 
 He was succeeded by another Indian, who went through the 
 same movements, and retired in the same manner. Soon 
 after, the whole party, sixteen in number, were discovered 
 approaching, and greedily eying their supposed victims. 
 
 11. The feelings of the sergeant's men can be better 
 imagined than described, when they saw the base and cruel 
 purpose of their enemies, who were now so near that they 
 could scarcely be restrained from firing upon them. The 
 plan, however, of the sergeant, was to have his men remain 
 silent in their places of concealment, till the muskets of the 
 savages were discharged, that their own fire might be efiect- 
 ual, and opposition less formidable. 
 
 12. Their suspense was not of long duration. The Indians, 
 in a body, cautiously approached till within a short distance : 
 they then halted, took deliberate aim, discharged their piecea 
 upon inanimate logs, gave a dreadful war-whoop, and in- 
 stantly rushed forward, with tomahawk and scalping-knife 
 in hand, to dispatch the living, and obtain the scalps of the 
 
 13. As soon as they had collected in close order, more 
 effectually to execute their horrid intentions, the sergeant's 
 party discharged their pieces, not on logs of wood, but per- 
 fidious savages, — many of whom fell under the hot fire of the 
 little band, and the rest precipitately fled. But for this 
 ingenious scheme, it is probable that not one of these twelve 
 men would have escaped the tomahawk of the savages. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What did the sergeant say to his men, after parting with 
 the Indians? 2. What plan did the sergeant propose for their preservation ? 
 3. Did the plan suo«e©d? ^ Deacrihfi the closing scene. 
 
SUMBER FOUR. 185 
 
 LESSON XLIX. 
 
 Yen' er a ble, worthy of reverence. > De scrip' tion, representation. 
 
 In va' sign, irruption ; inroad. Ma ter' nal, motherly. 
 
 Ex cIt' ED, roused ; stirred up. Fil' ial, becoming a child. [ship. 
 
 Ire, wrath ; indignation. Con san guin' i ty, blood relation^ 
 
 Yenge' ance, retaliation. In tel' Li gence, news ; information. 
 
 Ee LiiAs' ED, set free ; liberated. I den' ti ty, sameness. 
 
 Tro' piiie$, memorials of victory. SuR viv' ed, remained alive. 
 
 13 E reft', deprived. As cer tain' ed, found out. 
 
 Yult' ure, rapacious bird. In ter' fret er, explainer. 
 
 Trav' ers ed, crossed over. i Lin' e a ments, features. 
 
 FRANCES SLOCUM, THE YOUNG CAPTIVE** 
 
 B. J. LOSSIKG. 
 
 1. I PASSED the evening with the venerable Joseph Slocum, 
 "whose family was among the sufferers, in Wyoming Valley. 
 He related to me all the particulars of the capture, and final 
 discovery of his sister Frances, and other incidents con- 
 nected with the sufferings of his family. 
 
 2. His father was a Quaker, and was distinguished for his 
 kindness to the Indians. He remained unharmed at the 
 time of the invasion, and, while the torch was applied to the 
 dwellings of others, his was left untouched. But his son 
 Giles was in the battle. This, doubtless, excited the ire of 
 the Indians, and they resolved on vengeance. 
 
 3. Late in the autumn, they were seen prowling about 
 the house, which was situated about one hundred rods from 
 
 * The great massacre at "Wyoming was, perhaps, the most bloody and 
 terrible chapter of the Revolution. A combined Indian and Tory force had 
 flung itself upon the peaceful valley, and murdered or made captive nearly all 
 its unoffending inhabitants ; its old and its young, — men, women, and chil- 
 dren alike, — were either indiscriminately butchered or made prisoners. 
 Among the prisoners taken on that occasion, was an infant child by the 
 name of Frances Slocum. The story is a very strange one ; we copy it from 
 Lossing's very excellent work, " The Field Book of the Revolution." 
 
186 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 the Wilkesbarre Fort. A neighbor, named Kingsley, had 
 been made prisoner, and his wife and two sons had a wel- 
 come homo in Mr. Slocum's family. One morning, the boys 
 were grinding a knife near the house, when a rifle-shot and 
 a shriek brought Mrs. Slocum to the door. An Indian was 
 scalping the eldest boy, a lad of fifteen, with the knife he 
 had been grinding. 
 
 4. The savage then went into the house, and caught up a 
 little son of Mrs. Slocum. "See!" exclaimed the fright- 
 ened mother, "he can do thee no good; he is lame^' The 
 Indian released the boy, took up her little daughter Frances, 
 aged five years, gently in his arms, and, seizing the younger 
 Kingsley, hastened to the mountains. 
 
 5. Two Indians who were with him, carried off a black 
 girl, about seventeen years of age. Mr. Slocum's daughter 
 caught up her brother Joseph, (my informant,) two and a 
 half years old, and fled in safety to the fort, where an alarm 
 was given ; but the savages were beyond successful pursuit. 
 
 6. About six weeks afterward, Mr. Slocum and his father- 
 in-law Ira Tripp, were shot and scalped by some Indians 
 while foddering cattle near the house. Again the savages 
 escaped with their horrid trophies. Mrs. Slocum, bereft of 
 father, husband, and child, and stripped of all possessions 
 but the house that sheltered her, could not leave the valley, 
 for nine helpless children were yet in her household. 
 
 7. She trusted in the God of Elijah ; and, if she was not 
 fed by the ravens, she was spared by the vultures. She 
 mourned not for the dead ; for they were at rest : but little 
 Frances, her lost darling, where was she? The lamp of | 
 hope kept on burning ; but years rolled by, and no tidings 
 of the little one came. 
 
 8. When peace returned, and friendly intercourse with 
 Canada was established, two of the little captive's brothers 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 287 
 
 started in search of her. Thej traversed the wilderness to 
 Niagara, offering rewards for her recovery ; but, all in vain. 
 Thej returned to Wyoming, convinced that the child was 
 dead. But the mother s heart was still the shrine of hope, 
 and she felt assured that Frances was not in the grave. 
 
 9. Her soul appeared to commune with that of her child, 
 and she often said, ''I know Frances is still living." At 
 length, the mother's heart was cheered : a woman, (for many 
 years had now passed, and Frances, if living, must have ar- 
 rived to womanhood,) was found among the Indians, answering 
 the description of the lost one. She only remembered being 
 carried away from the Susquehanna. 
 
 10. Mrs. Slocura took her home, and cherished her with 
 a mother's tenderness. Yet the mysterious link of sym- 
 pathy which binds the maternal spirit to its offspring, was 
 unfelt, and the bereaved mother was bereaved still. '' It 
 may be Frances, but it does not seem so ; yet the woman 
 shall ever be welcome," said Mrs. Slocum. The foundling, 
 also, felt no filial yearnings ; and, both becoming convinced 
 that no consanguinity existed, the orphan returned to her 
 Indian friends. 
 
 11. From time to time, the hope of the mother would be 
 revived, and journeys Avere made to distant Indian settle- 
 ments in search of the lost sister ; but, in vain. Tiie mother 
 went "down into the grave, mourning," and little Frances 
 was almost forgotten. Her brothers had become aged men, 
 and their grandchildren were playing upon the very spot, 
 whence she had been taken. 
 
 12. In the summer of 1837, fifty-nine years after her 
 capture, intelligence of Frances was received. Colonel 
 Ewing, an Indian agent and trader, in a letter from Logans- 
 port, Indiana, to the editor of the Lancaster Intelligencer , 
 gave such information, that all doubts respecting her identity 
 
188 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 were removed, and Joseph Slocum, with the sister who car- 
 ried him to the fort, and yet survived, immediately jour- 
 neyed to Ohio, where they were joined by their younger 
 brother Isaac. 
 
 13. They proceeded to Logansport, where they found Mr. 
 Evving, and ascertained that the woman spoken of by him, 
 lived about twelve miles from the village. She was imme- 
 diately sent for, and, toward evening the next day, she came 
 into the town, riding a spirited, young horse, accompanied by 
 her two daughters, and the husband of one of them, — all 
 dressed in full Indian costume. 
 
 14. An interpreter was procured, (for she could not speak 
 or understand English,) and she listened seriously to what 
 her brothers had to say. She answered but little, and, at 
 sunset, departed for her home, promising to return the next 
 morning. The brother and sister were quite sure that it 
 was indeed Frances, though in her face nothing but Indian 
 lineaments were seen, her color alone revealing her origin. 
 
 15. True to her appointment, she appeared the following 
 morning, accompanied as before. Mr. Joseph Slocum then 
 mentioned a mark of recognition, which, his mother had 
 said, was a sure test. While playing, one day, with a 
 hammer in a blacksmith's shop, Joseph, then a child two 
 and a half years old, gave Frances a blow upon the middle 
 finger of the left hand, which crushed the bone, and deprived 
 the finger of its nail. 
 
 16. This test .Mr. Slocum had withheld until others 
 should fail. When he mentioned it, the aged woman was 
 greatly agitated, and, while tears filled the furrows of lier 
 face, she held out the wounded finger. There was no longer 
 a doubt, and a scene of great interest ensued. Her aiOfec-. 
 tions for her kindred, that had slumbered half a century, 
 were aroused^ and she made earnest inquiries after her 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ;j^g9 
 
 father, mother, brothers, and sisters. Her full heart, — full 
 with the cherished secrets of her history, — was opened, and 
 the story of her life freely given. 
 
 17. She said the savages, who were Delawares, after 
 taking her to a rocky cave in the mountains, departed to the 
 Indian country. The first night was the unhappiest of her 
 life. She was kindly treated, — being carried tenderly in 
 their arms when she was weary. She was adopted in an 
 Indian family, and brought up as their daughter. For 
 years she lived a roving life, and loved it. She was taught 
 the use of the bow and arrow, and became expert in all the 
 employments of savage existence. 
 
 18. When she was grown to womanhood, both her Indian 
 parents died, and she soon afterward married a young chief 
 of the nation, and removed to the Ohio country. She was 
 treated with more respect than the Indian women generally; 
 and so happy was she in her domestic relations, that the 
 chance of being discovered, and compelled to return among 
 the whites, was the greatest evil that she feared ; for she had 
 been taught that they were the implacable enemies of the 
 Indians, whom she loved. 
 
 19. Her Jiusband died, and, her people having joined the 
 Miamies, she went with them, and married one of that tribe. 
 The last husband was also dead, and she had been a widow 
 many years. Children and grandchildren were around her, 
 and her life was passing pleasantly away. When she con- 
 cluded the narrative, she lifted her right hand in a solemn 
 manner, and said, '' All this is as true as that there is a 
 Great Spirit in the heavens I" She had entirely forgotten 
 her native language, and was a pagan. 
 
 20. On the day after the second interview, the brothers 
 and sisters, with the interpreter, rode out to her dwelling. 
 It was a well-built log house, in the midst of cultivation. 
 
190 SAIVDEHS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 A large herd of cattle and sixty horses were grazing in the 
 pasture. Everything betokened plenty and comfort ; for she 
 was wealthy, when her wants and her means were compared. 
 Her annuity from government, which she received as one of 
 the Miami tribe, had been saved, and she had about one 
 thousand dollars in specie. 
 
 21. Her white friends passed several days very agreeably 
 with her; and subsequently her brother Joseph, with his 
 daughter, the wife of the Hon. Mr. Bennet, of Wyoming, 
 made her another visit, and bade her a last farewell. She 
 died a few years ago, and was buried with considerable pomp ; 
 for she was regarded as a queen among her tribe. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Where is the "Wyoming Valley ? 2. Relate the incidents 
 connected with the capture of little Frances. 3. What eflforts were made 
 to find her? 4. How many years after her capture before she was found? 
 5. Where did they find her ? 6. By what test did Mr. Slocum prove that 
 she was his sister ? 7. What history did she relate of herself? 8. Describe 
 her home. 
 
 LESSON L. 
 
 Erixg' ING, bordering ; edging. j Cull' ing, selecting ; picking. 
 
 Ledge, layer ; ridge. Bou quets', (boo kds.) bunches of 
 
 Dai' $t, (literally day's eye,) a little j Sulk' y, morose. [flowers. 
 
 flower that opens only in the day- \ Both' er ing, perplexing. 
 Ri' OT ous, noisy ; reveling. [time. \ Un wont' ed, rare ; uncommon. 
 Bois' TER ous, tumultuous ; violent. ^ Te'di ous, tiresome ; wearisome. 
 
 THE RAIN-DROPS* 
 
 Delia Louise Coltow • 
 
 1. The silver rain, the golden rain. 
 
 The tripping, dancing, laughing rain ! 
 Stringing its pearls on the green leafs edge, 
 Fringing with gems the brown rock's ledge, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 Spinning a vail for the water- fall, 
 And building an amber-colored wall 
 Across the West where the sun-beams fall : 
 The gentle rain^ in the sliadj lane, 
 The pattering J peering, winnmg rain ! 
 
 2. The noisy rain^ the marching rain. 
 The rushing tread of the heavy lain ! 
 Pouring its rivers from out the blue, 
 Down on the grass where the daisies grew. 
 Darting in clouds of angrj drops 
 Across the hills and the green tree-tops, 
 And kissing, at last, in its giant glee. 
 The foaming lips of the great, green sea : 
 The fierce^ ivild rain, the riotous rain, 
 The boisterous, dashing, shouting rain ! 
 
 8. The still night rain, the solemn rain, 
 The soldier-step of the midnight rain ! 
 With its measured beat on the roof o'er head, 
 With its tidings sweet of the faithful -dead, 
 Whispers from loves who are laid asleep 
 Under the sod where the myrtles creep, 
 Culling bouquets from the sun -lit past, 
 Of flowers too sweet, too fair to last : 
 The faithful rain, the untiring rain, 
 The cooing, sobbing, xvceping rain! 
 
 4. The sulky i^ain, the spiteful rain, 
 
 The bothering, pilfering, thieving rain / 
 
 Creeping so lazily over the sky, 
 
 A leaden mask o'er a bright blue eye, 
 
 And shutting in, with its damp, strong hands, 
 
 The rosy faces in curls, and bands 
 
 191 
 
192 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Of girls who think, with unwonted frown, 
 Of the charming laces and things down-town, 
 That might as well for this tiresome rain, 
 Be m the rose land of Almahain : 
 The horrid rain, the tedious rain^ 
 The never-ending, dingy rain ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What is the meaning of the sufiBx ing, in such words as 
 tripping^ dancing, laughing, &c. ? See Sanders & McElligott's Analysis, 
 page 153, Ex. 206. 2. What is the use of the hyphen in such words as 
 mier-faU, amber-colored, &c. ? See Sanders' New Speller, page 165. 
 
 LESSON LI. 
 
 Lav' ish, liberal ; profuse. j Motes, very small particles. 
 
 Per' fume$, pleasant odors. | Yent' ure, dare ; have courage. 
 
 Har mo' ni ous, concordant. > Col' umn$, pillars. 
 
 Rapt' ure, extreme joyousness. \ Dome, arched roof; cupola. 
 
 GrERM$, seed-buds ; beginnings. j Ti' ny, very small. 
 
 Par' ti cle$, minute parts ; atoms. \ Es' sence, perfume. 
 
 ^^SMAIxlx THINGS*'^ 
 
 r. Benxocu. 
 
 1. "Who dares to scorn the meanest thing, 
 
 The humblest weed that grows. 
 While pleasure spreads its joyous wing 
 
 On every breeze that blows ? 
 The simplest flower that, hidden, blooms 
 
 The lowest on the ground. 
 Is lavish of its rare perfumes. 
 
 And scatters sweetness round. 
 
 2. The poorest friend upholds a part 
 Of life's harmonious plan ; 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 193 
 
 The weakest hand may have the art 
 
 To serve the strongest man. 
 The bird that highest, clearest sings, 
 
 To greet the morning's birth, 
 Falls down to drink, with folded wings, 
 
 Love's rapture on the earth. 
 
 8. From germs too small for mortal sight 
 
 Grow all things that are seen, 
 Their floating particles of light 
 
 Weave Nature's robe of green. 
 The motes that fill the sunny rays 
 
 Build ocean, earth, and sky, — 
 The wondrous orbs that round us blaze 
 
 Are motes to Deity ! 
 
 4. Life, love, devotion, closely twine, 
 
 Like tree, and flower, and fruit ; 
 They ripen by a power divine. 
 
 Though fed by leaf and root. 
 And he who would be truly great, 
 
 Must venture to be small ; 
 On airy columns rests the dome 
 
 That, shining, circles all. 
 
 5. Small duties grow to mighty deeds ; 
 
 Small words to thoughts of power; 
 Great forests spring from tiny seeds, 
 
 As moments make the hour. 
 And life, howe'er it lowly grows, 
 
 The essence to it given. 
 
 Like odor from the breathing rose, 
 
 Floats evermore to Heaven. 
 4 U 9 
 
194 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LII. 
 
 Ex tinct', extinguished. I Gray' i ty, seriousness. 
 
 Incor'pora ted, united. Delib'erate, take counsel 
 
 Tac' it, silent ; implied. Trea' $on, treachery ; disloyalty. 
 
 Sub sist' ed, existed. Ap pri$' ing, informing. 
 
 Hos PI TAL'' I TY, kind treatment. Be tray', expose. 
 
 Im por' tu NATE, urgent ; pressing. In vin' ci ble, unconquerable. 
 
 En croach' mbnt, intrusion. Wax' ed, became ; grew. 
 
 Ir' Ri TA ted, provoked ; exasperated. Be sought', entreated ; implored. 
 
 Mas' sa cre, (mow' sa her,) slaughter. \ Suf fice', (c like z) prove sufficient. 
 
 MURDERER'S CREEK** 
 
 James K. Paulding. 
 
 1. Little more than a century ago, the beautiful region, 
 watered by this stream, was possessed by a small tribe of 
 Indians, which has long since become extinct, or incorpo- 
 rated with some other savage nation of the West. Three or 
 four hundred yards from where the stream discharges itself 
 into the Hudson, a whjte family, of the name of Stacy, had 
 established itself in a log-house, by tacit permission of the 
 tribe, to whom Stacy had made himself useful by his skill in 
 a variety of little arts, highly estimated by the savages. 
 
 2. In particular, a friendship subsisted between him and 
 an old Indian, called Naoman, who often came to his house, 
 and partook of his hospitality. The Indians never forgive 
 injuries, nor forget benefits. The family consisted of Stacy, 
 his wife, and two children, a boy and a girl, tne former five, 
 the latter three years old. 
 
 3. One day, Naoman came to Stacy's log-hut, in his 
 absence, lighted his pipe, and sat down. He looked very 
 serious, sometimes sighed deeply, but said not a word. 
 Stacy's wife asked him what was the matter, — if he was sick. 
 
 * in Orange County, New York. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 195 
 
 He shook his head, sighed, but said nothing, and soon went 
 awaj. The next day, he came again and behaved in the 
 same manner. Stacy's wife began to think strange of this, 
 and related it to her husband, who advised her to urge the 
 old man to an explanation the next time he came. 
 
 4. Accordingly, when he repeated his visit the day after, 
 she was more importunate than usual. At last, the old 
 Indian said, "I am a red man, and the pale faces are our 
 enemies : why should I speak ?" — " But my husband and I 
 are your friends : you have eaten salt with us a thousand 
 times, and my children have sat on your knees as often. If 
 you have anything on your mind, tell it me." — "It will 
 cost me my life if it is known, and the white-faced women 
 are not good at keeping secrets," replied Naoman. 
 
 5. " Try me, and see." — ^' Will you swear by your Great 
 Spirit that you will tell none but your husband ?'' — '• I have 
 none else to tell." — " But will you swear ?" — " I do swear 
 by our Great Spirit, I will tell none but my husband." 
 '* Not if my tribe should kill you for not telling ?" — '' Not 
 if your tribe should kill me for not telling." 
 
 6. Naoman then proceeded to tell her that, owing to some 
 encroachments of the white people below the mountains, his 
 tribe had become irritated, and were resolved that night to 
 massacre all the white settlers within their reach ; that she 
 must send for her husband, inform him of the danger, and, 
 as secretly and speedily as possible, take their canoe and 
 paddle, with all haste, over the river to Fishkill for safety. 
 " Be quick, and do nothing that may excite suspicion," said 
 Naoman, as he departed. 
 
 7. The good wife sought her husband, who was down on 
 the river fishing, told him the story, and, as no time was to 
 be lost, they proceeded to their boat, which was unluckily 
 filled with water. It took some time to clear it out, and, 
 
J96 SANDERS' U]?>[I0^^ SERIES. 
 
 meanwhile, Stacy recollected his gun, which had been left 
 behind. He proceeded to the house, and returned with it. 
 All this took up considerable time, and precious time it 
 proved to this poor family. 
 
 8. The daily visits of old Naoman, and his more than 
 ordinary gravity, had excited suspicion in some of the tribe, 
 who had, accordingly, paid particular attention to the move- 
 ments of Stacy. One of the young Indians, who had been 
 kept on the watch, seeing the whole fimily about to take to 
 the boat, ran to the little Indian village, about a mile off, 
 and gave the alarm. Five Indians collected, ran down to 
 the river, where their canoes were moored, jumped in, and 
 paddled after Stacy, who, by this time, had got some distance 
 out into the stream. 
 
 9. They gained on him so fast, that twice he dropped his 
 paddle, and took up his gun. But his wife prevented his 
 shooting by telling him that, if he fired, and they were after- 
 wards overtaken, they would meet with no mercy from the 
 Indians. He accordingly refrained, and phed his paddle 
 till the sweat rolled in big drops down his forehead. All 
 would not do ; they were overtaken within a hundred yards 
 from the shore, and carried back with shouts of yelling 
 triumph. 
 
 10. When they got ashore, the Indians set fire to Stacy's 
 house, and dragged himself, his wdfe, and children, to their 
 village. Here the principal old men, and Naoman among 
 them, assembled to deliberate on the affair. The chief men 
 of the council stated that some of the tribe had, undoubtedly, 
 been guilty of treason, in apprising Stacy, the white man, 
 of the designs of the tribe, whereby they took the alarm, 
 and well-nigh escaped. 
 
 11. He proposed to examine the prisoners, to learn who 
 gave the information. The old men assented to this, and 
 
NUMBER lOUU. lO^ 
 
 Naoman among the rest. Stacy was first interrogated by 
 one of the old men, who spoke English and interpreted to 
 the others. Stacy refused to betray his informant. His 
 wife was then questioned ; while, at the same moment, two 
 Indians stood threatening the two children, with tomahawks, 
 in case she did not confess. 
 
 12. She attempted to evade the truth, by declaring she 
 Lad a dream the night before, which alarmed her, and that 
 she had persuaded her husband to fly. "The Great Spirit 
 never deigns to talk in dreams to a white face," said the old 
 Indian. " Woman, thou hast two tongues, and two faces. 
 Speak the truth, or thy children shall surely die." The 
 little boy and girl were then brought close to her, and the 
 two savages stood over them, ready to execute their bloody 
 orders. 
 
 13. ''Wilt thou name," said the old Indian, "the red 
 man who betrayed his tribe'? I will ask thee three times." 
 The mother answered not. "'Wilt thou name the traitor'? 
 This is the second time." The poor mother looked at her 
 husband, and then at her children, and stole a glance at 
 Naoman, who sat smoking his pipe with invincible gravity. 
 
 14. She wrung her hands, and wept ; but remained silent. 
 " Wilt thou name the traitor' ? 'Tis the third and last 
 time." The agony of the mother waxed more bitter ; again 
 she sought the eye of Naoman ; but it was cold and motion- 
 less. A pause of a moment awaited her reply, and the 
 tomahawks were raised over the heads of the children, who 
 bssought their mother not to let them be murdered. 
 
 15. " Stop !" cried Naoman. All eyes were turned upon 
 him. " Stop !" repeated he, in a tone of authority. " White 
 woman, thou hast kept thy word with me to the last moment. 
 I am the traitor. I have eaten of the salt, warmed myself 
 at the fire, shared the kindness, of these Christian white 
 
198 SANDERS' U.\IOJV SERIES. 
 
 people, and it was / that told them of their danger. I am a 
 withered, leafless, branchless trunk. Cat me down, if you 
 will: I am ready." 
 
 16. A yell of indignation sounded on all sides. Naoman 
 descended from the little bank where he sat, shrouded his 
 face with his mantle of skins, and submitted to his fate. He 
 fell dead at the feet of the white woman by a blow of the 
 tomahawk. 
 
 17. But the sacrifice of Naoman, and the firmness of the 
 Christian white woman, did not suffice to save the lives of 
 the other victims. They perished, — how, it is needless to 
 say ; and the memory of their fate has been preserved in 
 the name of the pleasant stream, on whose banks they lived 
 and died, which, to this day, is called Murderer's Creek. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Where is Murderer's Creek ? 2. "What is said of Naoman 
 and Stacy's family ? 3. Why did Xaoman, at first, refuse to tell Mrs. Stacy 
 cf her danger ? 4. Did Stacy's family make their escape ? 5. Where were 
 they taken ? 6. Did Mrs. Stacy tell who had informed her ? 1. What 
 measures did the Indians adopt, to make her tell ? 8. What did Naomau 
 
 f^T^m^^^ 
 
 LESSON LIII. 
 
 Per' il ous, hazardous ; dangerous. ) Av a lakche', snow-slip. 
 
 De file$', narrow passages. | Crouch' ed, cringed. 
 
 Prec' I PIC E$, steep descents. j Ad vance', forward ; proceed. 
 Sol' I tude, lonely places. Be numb' ed, deprived of feeling. 
 
 Am mu ni'' tion, military stores, as Ex ploits', heroic deeds. [clear, 
 
 powder, balls, &c. | Il lus' trates, explains; makes 
 
 Dra goon$', mounted soldiers. ( He ro' ic, brave ; fearless. [lute. 
 
 Sum' mix, top ; highest point. \ Un flinch' ing, determined ; reso« 
 
 Bay' NET, a short, pomted instrument of iron, or broad dagger, fitted to 
 the barrel of a gun. It is so called, because the first bayonets were mad© 
 at Bayonne, in Prance. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. j^gg 
 
 MAPOLEON^S ARMY CROSSING THE ALPS* 
 
 1. When Napoleon was carrying war into Italy, he 
 ordered one of bis officers, Marshal Macdonald, to cross the 
 Splugen with fifteen thousand soldiers, and join him on the 
 plains below. The Splugen is one of the four great roads 
 which cross the Alps from Switzerland to Italy. 
 
 2. When Macdonald received the order, it was about the 
 last of November, and the winter storms were raging among 
 the mountain passes. It was a perilous undertaking, yet he 
 must obey ; and the men began their terrible march through 
 narrow defiles and overhanging precipices, six thousand feet 
 up, up among the gloomy solitudes of the Alps. 
 
 3. The cannon were placed on sleds drawn by oxen, and 
 the ammunition was packed on mules. First came the guides, 
 sticking their long poles in the snow, in order to find the 
 path ; then came workmen to clear away the drifts ; then the 
 dragoons, mounted on their most powerful horses, to beat down 
 the track ; after which followed the main body of the army. 
 
 4. They encountered severe storms and piercing cold. 
 When half-way up the summit, a rumbling noise was heard 
 among the cliffs. The guides looked at each other in alarm ; 
 for they knew well what it meant. It grew louder and 
 louder. ^^An avalanche! an avalanche P^ they shrieked, 
 and the next moment a field of ice and snow came leaping 
 down the mountain, striking the line of march, and sweep- 
 ing thirty dragoons in a wild plunge below. The black forms 
 of the horses and their riders were seen for an instant strug- 
 gling for life, and then they disappeared forever. 
 
 5. The sight struck the soldiers with horror ; they crouched 
 and shivered in the blast. Their enemy was not now flesh 
 and blood, but wild winter storms ; swords and bayonets 
 could not defend them from the desolating avalanche. Flight 
 
200 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 or retreat was hopeless ; for all around lay the drifted snow, 
 like a vast winding-sheet. On they must go, or death was 
 certain, and the brave men struggled forward. 
 
 6. "Soldiers!" exclaimed their commander, "you are 
 called to Italy; your general needs you. Advance and 
 conquer, first the mountain and the snow, then the plains 
 and the enemy !" Blinded by the winds, benumbed with 
 the cold, and far beyond the reach of aid, Macdonald and 
 his men pressed on. Sometimes a whole company of sol- 
 diers were suddenly swept away by an avalanche. 
 
 7. On one occasion, a poor drummer, crawling out from 
 the mass of snow, which had torn him from his comrades, 
 began to beat his drum for relief. The muffled sound came 
 up from his gloomy resting-place, and was heard by his 
 brother soldiers ; but none could go to his rescue. For an 
 hour, he beat rapidly, then the strokes grew fainter, until 
 they were heard no more, and the poor drummer laid him- 
 self down to die. Two weeks were occupied in this perilous 
 march, and two hundred men perished in the undertaking. 
 
 8. This passage of the Splugen is one of the bravest 
 exploits in the history of Napoleon's generals, and illus- 
 trates the truth of the proverb, ^^ Where there is a will 
 there is a loay^ No one can read the heroic deeds of brave 
 men grappling with danger and death, without a feeling of 
 respect and admiration ; but heroic deeds are always the 
 fruit of toil and self-sacrifice. No one can accomplish 
 great things^ unless he aims at great things^ and pursues 
 that aim with unflinching courage and perseverance. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What orders had Napoleon given to Marshal Macdonald ? 
 2. What time of year was it ? 3. Describe the march of the army over 
 the Alps. 4. What disaster occurred to them ? 5. How did their com- 
 mander address the army ? 6. Describe the drummer boy's fate. *l. How 
 many men perished ? 8. What does this exploit of the army illustrate ? 
 9. What is said of heroic deeds? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. £01 
 
 LESSON LIY. 
 
 pROv' ERB$, sayings ; maxims. j Cope, strive ; contend. 
 
 Trac' ED, shown ; marked out. De fy' ing, daring ; outbraving. 
 
 Woo' ER$, suitors ; lovers. > Ghost, specter ; apparition. 
 
 Dense, close; thick. 
 Striv' ing, making efforts. 
 
 Re ly' ing, trusting ; depending. 
 "Win'ning, getting; gaining. 
 
 Con trol', restraint ; government. ) Bram' ble$, prickly shrubs. ' 
 WHERE THERE^S A WILL THERE'S A WAY* 
 
 Eliza. Cook. 
 
 1. We have faith in old proverbs full surely, 
 
 For wisdom has traced what they tell, 
 And truth may be drawn up as purely 
 
 From them, as it may from a " well." 
 Let us question the thinkers and doers, 
 
 And hear what they honestly say, 
 And you'll find they believe, like bol^ wooers, 
 
 In ^^ Where there s a will there's a WAY." 
 
 2. The hills have been high for man's mounting, 
 
 The woods have been dense for his ax, 
 The stars have been thick for his counting, 
 
 The sands have been wide for his tracks. 
 The sea has been deep for his diving, 
 
 The poles have been broad for his sway, 
 But bravely he's proved by his striving. 
 
 That ^^ Where there's a will there^s a WAY." 
 
 . Have ye vices that ask a destroyer. 
 
 Or passions that need your control' ? 
 
 Let Reason become your employer. 
 
 And your body be ruled by your soul. 
 4 U g* 
 
202 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Fight on, though je bleed at the trial, 
 Resist with all strength that ye may, 
 
 Ye may conquer Sin's host by denial, 
 
 For/' Where there's a will there's a WAY.'* 
 
 4. Have ye poverty's pinching to cope with' ? 
 
 Does suffering weigh down your might' ? 
 Only call up a spirit to hope with, 
 
 And dawn may come out of the night. 
 Oh ! much may be done by defying 
 
 The ghost of Despair and Dismay, 
 And much may be gained by relying 
 
 On ^^ Where there's a will there's a WAY." 
 
 5. Should ye see afar off that worth winning. 
 
 Set out on a journey with trust. 
 And ne'er heed though your path at beginning 
 
 Should be among brambles and dust. 
 Though it is by footsteps ye do it. 
 
 And hardships may hinder and stay, 
 Keep a heart and be sure ye go through it, 
 
 For, ^^ Where there's a will there's a way." 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What is the meaning of this proverb, " Where there's a 
 will there^s a way ?" 2. What instances can you mention in which its truth 
 has been realized ? 3. Do you apply this proverb in getting your lessons ? 
 
 LESSON LV. 
 
 Tal' i$ man, charm ; amulet. i Tense' ly, tightly. 
 
 Yan, front or head of an army. > Swerve$, deviates. 
 
 Pi' er y, ardent ; passionate. \ Daunt, frighten ; terrify. 
 
 Plume$, supplies with feathers. \ Ban' ish, expel ; drive away. 
 
 Tel' e graph, (tele, /or off; graph, writing or marlcing,) a machine to 
 convey news far ofif. See Sanders' New Speller, page 161, Ex. 419. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 203 
 
 **l CAN I" 
 
 1. "I can!" oh yes, — we know you can! 
 
 We read it in your eye ; 
 There is a mystic talisman 
 ^ Flashing all gloriously ! 
 Speak it out boldly, let it ring, 
 
 There is a volume there, 
 There's meaning in the eagle's wing; 
 
 Then soar, and do, and dare ! 
 
 2. '^I can!" climbs to the mountain top, 
 
 And plows the billowy main ; 
 He lifts the hammer in the shop, 
 
 And drives the saw and plane ; 
 He's fearless in the battle shock, 
 
 And always leads the van 
 Of young America's brave sons,^ 
 
 They never quailed nor ran. 
 
 8. " I CAN !" He is a fiery youth. 
 
 And WILL a brother twin, 
 And, arm in arm, in love and truth, 
 
 They'll either die or win. 
 Shoulder to shoulder, ever ready, 
 
 All firm and fearless still 
 These brothers labor,^ — true and steady,— 
 
 *' I CAN," and brave '' I will." 
 
 "I CAN," e'en on his pleasure trips, 
 Travels by telegraph ; 
 He plumes the snowy wing of ships, 
 And never works by half j 
 
204 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 His music is the humming loom, 
 
 And shuttles are his dancers, 
 Then clear the way, and quick give room 
 
 For the noble-souled '' I can," sirs ! 
 
 5. "I CAN I" Indeed, we know you can I 
 
 'Tis lithe in every limb. 
 To your blood 'tis a busy fan, 
 
 How can the flame burn dim ? 
 It tensely draws your sturdy nerves,— 
 
 No bow's without a string, 
 And when nor bow, nor bow-string swerves, 
 
 An arrow's on the wing. 
 
 6. '' There is a magic in the power 
 
 Of an unbending will, 
 That makes us stronger every hour, 
 
 For greater efforts still. 
 Then banish from you every can't, 
 
 And show yourself a man, 
 And nothing will your purpose daunt. 
 
 Led by the brave " I can !" 
 
 Questions. — 1. What does "/ can'' do? 2. Who is called hia twin 
 brother ? 3. What is said of an unbending will ? 
 
 LESSON LVI. 
 
 Cls' ED, invested. \ Weap' on$, instruments for defense, 
 
 Arm' or, defensive arms. | or offense. 
 
 Storm' ing, taking by assault. | Un wor' thy, undeserving. 
 
 Air' y, fanciful ; visionary. j Ee gret', sorrow for the past. 
 
 Por' tress, fort ; strong-hold. \ Phan' tom, specter ; ghosifolike. 
 
 Pb taci', hinder; keep back. \ Scarce' ly, hardly. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 205 
 
 KOW, TO-DAY* 
 
 Adelaide A. Pbootbb. 
 
 1. Arise^ ! for the day is passing, 
 
 And you lie dreaming on ; 
 Your brothers are cased in armor, 
 
 And forth to the fight are gone I 
 A place in the ranks awaits you ; 
 
 Each man has some part to play ; 
 The Past and the Future are nothing 
 
 In the face of stern To-day. 
 
 2. Arise from your dreams of the Future, — 
 
 Of gaining some hard-fought field, 
 Of storming some airy fortress. 
 
 Or bidding some giant yield ; 
 Your Future has deeds of glory, 
 
 Of honor, (God grant* it may!) 
 But your arm will never be stronger, 
 
 Or needed as now, — To-day. 
 
 3. Arise^ ! if the Past detain you, 
 
 Her sunshine and storms forget ; 
 No chains so unworthy to hold you 
 
 As those of a vain regret ; 
 Sad or bright, she is lifeless ever ; 
 
 Cast her phantom arms away. 
 Nor look back, save to learn the lesson 
 
 Of a nobler strife To-day. 
 
 4. Arisb^ ! for the day is passing ; 
 
 The sound that you scarcely hear, 
 Is the enemy marching to battle ! 
 (/) Rise" ! RiSB^ I for the foe is near I 
 
206 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Stay not to sharpen your weapons, 
 Or the hour will strike at last, 
 
 When, from dreams of a coming battle. 
 You may wake to find it past ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What reasons are assigned why we should arouse to 
 efifort now, to-day ? 2. What rule for the falling inflection on arise ? See 
 Rule VIII., page 33. 3. How, according to the notation mark, should the 
 last verse be read? 
 
 LESSON LVII. 
 
 Rev Lu' tion, change of govern- l In' ter view, meeting ; conference. 
 
 Fan' CI ED, thought; imagined, [ment. Sol' i ta ry, lonely; retired. 
 
 Un gen'er ous, mean; ignoble. j Con grat' u la ting, rejoicing with. 
 
 Ac knowl' edg ED, owned. Is' su ed, started up ; came forth. 
 
 Plot' ting, planning ; contriving. Sus pect' ing, mistrusting. 
 
 De sign', purpose ; intention. > De tect' ed, exposed ; foimd out. 
 
 Cor re spond' ence, intercourse by A' mi a ble, lovely ; agreeable. 
 
 Con' quest, victory. [letters. ! Fel' on, criminal. 
 
 Con' se quence, (con, with; sequence, a following,) a following witli, as 
 an effect, or result. 
 
 Im press' IVE, (iM, in; press, to bear upon; ive, tending to,) tendmg to 
 press in, or upon; producing an effect. 
 
 In volv' ed, (in, in ; volved, rolled,) rolled in ; enveloped. 
 
 THE CAPTURE OF MAJOR ANDRE* 
 
 1. One of the saddest events in the history of the Amer- 
 ican Revolution is the treason of Arnold, and, in conse- 
 quence of it, the death of Major Andre. Arnold was an 
 officer in the American army, who, though hrave, had a 
 proud and impatient spirit. 
 
 2. He fancied he had not all the honor and the pay due 
 £br his services, and, having plunged himself into debt by 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 207 
 
 his expensive style of living, these things soured his heart ; 
 and, as is the case with ungenerous minds, he never ac- 
 knowledged a fault, or forgave an injury. More than this, 
 he sought revenge against his countrymen by plotting 
 treason against his country. 
 
 3. Soon after forming this bad design, he opened a secret 
 correspondence with the English General, Henry Clinton, 
 and, at the same time, asked General Washington to give him 
 the command of West Point, an. important post on the 
 Hudson river. Washington let him have it, and this he 
 determined to betray into the hands of the enemy, provided 
 he could make out of it a good bargain for himself. 
 
 4. He wrote to General Clinton what he would do, and 
 asked to have a secret interview with some English officer, 
 in order to agree upon the terms. General Clinton was 
 delighted ; for he thought an army divided against itself, 
 must prove an easy conquest, and he asked Major Andre, a 
 gallant young officer, to meet Arnold, and settle the price 
 of his treason. 
 
 5. Andre did not wish to engage in such business ; but 
 he obeyed, and went up the Hudson in an English sloop-of- 
 war for this purpose. Arnold agreed to meet him at a cer- 
 tain spot, and when night came on, sent a little boat to bring 
 him ashore. He landed at the foot of a mountain called the 
 Long Clove, on the western side of the river, a few miles 
 from Haverstraw, where he found the traitor hid in a clump 
 of bushes. 
 
 6. Little did poor Andre foresee the fatal consequences of 
 this step. All that still star-light night they sat and talked ; 
 daylight came, and the business was not concluded. Arnold 
 dismissed the boatmen, and led his companion to a solitary 
 farm-house on the river's bank, where the papers were 
 finally drawn up, and hid in one of Andre's stockings. 
 
208 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Andre felt how exposed he was to danger in the enemy's 
 country, and heartily wished himself back to the sloop. 
 
 7. Forced now, however, to go by land, Arnold gave him 
 a pass to go through the American lines, and, at sunset, he 
 set off, on horseback, with a guide. They crossed^ the river 
 and, getting along on their dangerous journey with but few 
 alarms, the guide left the next morning, and Andre rode 
 briskly on, congratulating himself upon leaving all dangers 
 behind, for he was rapidly nearing the English lines, when 
 there was a loud shout, ^^ Stand! halt !" and three men* 
 issued from the woods, one seizing the bridle, and the others 
 presenting their guns. 
 
 8. Andre told them he had a pass to White Plains, on 
 urgent business from General Arnold, and begged them not 
 to detain him ; but the men, suspecting that all was not 
 right, began to search him, and, hauling off his boots, they 
 discovered his papers in his stockings. 
 
 9. Finding himself detected, he offered them any sum of 
 money, if they would let him go. "No;" answered the 
 sturdy men, '' not if you would give us ten thousand 
 guineas:" for, though poor, they were above selling their 
 country at any price. Andre was sent a prisoner to General 
 Washington's camp. Arnold, on learning the news of his 
 capture, immediately fled from West Point, and made his 
 escape to the English sloop. 
 
 10. According to the rules of war, poor Andre was sen- 
 tenced to the death of a spy. Great efforts were made to 
 save him. General Clinton offered a large sum to redeem 
 him. So young, so amiable, so gallant^ and to meet a felon's 
 doom ! but, in ten days he was hung. 
 
 11. Arnold lived ; but, with the thirty thousand dollars — 
 
 * Paulding, "Williains, and Yan "Wart. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 209 
 
 the price of his treachery — he lived a miserable man, de- 
 spised even by those who bought him. And one impressive 
 lesson which the story teaches, is, that the consequences of 
 guilt do not fall alone on the guilty man ; others are often 
 involved in distress, disgrace, and ruin. 
 
 Questions. — 1- What is one of the saddest events in the history of the 
 American Revolution ? 2. Who was Arnold ? 3. What reason is assigned 
 why he plotted treason against his country ? 4. What measures did he 
 adopt to do this? 5. With whom, and where did he make the agreement? 
 6. By whom was Andre detected? T. What became of Andre and Arnold? 
 
 LESSON LVIII. 
 
 Se our' ED, obtained. j So Lie' it ed, asked ; requested, 
 
 ■He$'' I TA TED, .paused. < Cos tume', mode of dress. 
 
 Mi$' ER A BLE, wretched. > Yig' or ous, stout ; strong. 
 
 Sup' pli ant, petitioner ; beggar. j Syn' o nym, a word meaning tha 
 
 Pe cul' lAR, singular; remarkable. ? same as some other. word. 
 
 In 010' A TiVE, showing ; intimating. 1 In' fa my, utter disgrace. 
 
 * Tal' ley rand, a distinguished French statesman, was born Feb. 13th. 
 1754 He died May 20th, 1838. 
 
 BENEDICT ARNOLD* 
 
 1. There was a day when Talleyrand^ arrived in Havre, 
 direct from Paris. It was the darkest hour of the French 
 Revolution. Pursued by the blood-hounds of the Reign of 
 Terror, stripped of every wreck of property or power, Tal- 
 leyrand secured a passage to America, in a ship about to 
 sail. He was a beggar and a wanderer in a strange land, to 
 earn his bread by daily labor. 
 
 2. *'l3 there an American staying at your house?" he 
 asked the landlord of the hotel. '" I am bound to cross the 
 water, and would like a letter to a person of influence in the 
 
210 SANDEIIS' U.VION SERIES. 
 
 New World." The landlord hesitated a moment, then re- 
 plied : " There is a gentleman up-stairs, either from Amer- 
 ica or Britain ; but whether an American or an Englishman, 
 I can not tell." 
 
 3. He pointed the way, and Talleyrand, who, in his life, 
 was Bishop, Prince, and Prime Minister, ascended the stairs. 
 A miserable suppliant, he stood before the stranger's door, 
 knocked, and entered. In the far corner of the dimly- 
 lighted room, sat a man of some fifty years, his arms folded, 
 and his head bowed on his breast. From a window directly 
 opposite, a faint light rested on his forehead. 
 
 4. His eyes looked from beneath the downcast brows, and 
 gazed on Talleyrand's face with a peculiar and searching 
 expression. His face was striking in outline, — the mouth 
 and chin indicative of an iron will. His form, vigorous, even 
 with the snows of fifty winters, was clad in a dSirk, but rich 
 and distinguished costume. 
 
 5. Talleyrand advanced, stated that he was a fugitive ; 
 and, under the impression that the gentleman before him 
 was an American, he solicited his kind and generous offices. 
 He related his history in eloquent French and broken 
 English. 
 
 6. " I am a wanderer, and an exile. I am forced to flee 
 to the New World, without a friend or home. You are an 
 American ! Give me, then, I beseech you, a letter of yours, 
 so that I may be able to earn my bread. I am willing to 
 toil in any manner ; the scenes of Paris have seized me with 
 such horror, that a life of labor would be a paradise to a 
 career of luxury in France. You will give me a letter to 
 one of your friends ? A gentleman like yourself has, 
 doubtless, many friends." 
 
 T. The strange gentleman rose. With a look that Tal- 
 leyrand never forgot, he retreated to the door of the next 
 
IVUMBER FOUR. £1 ]^ 
 
 chamber, — his eyes looking still from beneath his darkened 
 brow. He spoke as he retreated backward, — his voice was 
 full of meaning. "I am the only man born in the New 
 World, who can raise his hand to God and say, I have not 
 a friend, not one, in all America!" Talleyrand never for- 
 got the overwhelming sadness of that look which accom- 
 panied these words. 
 
 8. "Who are you?" he cried, as the strange man re- 
 treated to the next room : " your name ?" " My name," he 
 replied, with a smile that had more of mockery than joy in 
 its convulsive expression, — ''my name is Benedict Arnold!" 
 He was gone : Talleyrand sank into his chair, gasping the 
 words, ''Arnold, the Traitor !" 
 
 9. Thus, you see, he wandered over the earth another 
 Cain, with the wanderer's mark upon his brow. Even in 
 that secluded room, in that inn at Havre, his crimes found 
 him out, and forced him to tell his name : that name the 
 synonym of infamy. The last twenty years of his life are 
 covered with a cloud, from whose darkness but a few gleams 
 of light flash out upon the page of history. 
 
 10. The manner of his death is not exactly known; but 
 we can not doubt that he died utterly friendless, — that re- 
 morse pursued him to the grave, whispering " John Andre" 
 in his ear, — and that the memory of his course of infamy 
 gnawed like a canker at his heart, murmuring forever, 
 " True to your country, what might you have been, O 
 Arnold, the Traitor!'' 
 
 Questions.— 1. Who was Talleyrand ? 2. Why was he obliged to flee 
 from Paris? 3. Whom did he seek at Havre ? 4. Why did he wish to see 
 the stranger? 5. Describe the appearance of this stranger. 6. What did 
 he say to Talleyrand? T. Who did the stranger prove to be ? 8. What is 
 said of Arnold ? 9. Where is Havre ? 10. Where is Paris ? 11. What is 
 meant by New World ? 
 
212 SANDERS' UNION SERIES, 
 
 LESSON LIX. 
 
 Lo 00 mo' tive, steam-engine to pro- ( E nor' mous, immense / very large. 
 
 pel rail-cars. [contact. As' sets, amounts due. 
 
 Col lis' ion, (5 like zh,) shock ; violent ^ Re mit' tance, money remitted. 
 En gin eer', one who manages an [ Pre $erv' ed, secured ; saved. 
 
 engine. j Ma tu' ri ty, time of payment. 
 
 Pre cip' i ta ted, thrown headlong. Re prieve', respite. [debts. 
 
 Re-en force' ments, additional forces. In solv' ent, one unable to pay his 
 Ob' sti NATE, unyielding. [ Prov ca''tion, incitement to anger. 
 
 Corps, (kore,) body of troops. i IG no min' i ous, disgraceful 
 
 Bank' rupt cy, insolvency. J Sao RI no' ed, (c Uke z,) thrown away. 
 
 BEHIWO TIME> 
 
 Frkkman Hunt. 
 
 1. A RAILROAD train was rushing along at almost light- 
 ning speed. A curve was just ahead, beyond which was a 
 station, at which the cars usually passed each other. The 
 conductor was late, — so late that the period, during which 
 the down train was to wait, had nearly elapsed : but he 
 hoped yet to pass the curve safely. Suddenly, a locomotive 
 dashed into sight right ahead. In an instant, there was a 
 collision. A shriek, a shock, and fifty souls were in eter- 
 nity ; and all because an engineer had been behind time. 
 
 2. A great battle was going on. Column after column 
 had been precipitated for eight mortal hours on the enemy 
 posted along the ridge of a hill. The summer sun was sink- 
 ing to the west ; re-enforcements for the obstinate defenders 
 were already in sight ; it was necessary to carry the posi- 
 tion with one final charge, or every thing would be lost. A 
 powerful corps had been summoned from across the country, 
 and, if it came up in season, all would yet be right. The 
 great conqueror, confident in its arrival, formed his reserve 
 into an attacking column, and led them down the hill. The 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 213 
 
 "wbole world knows the result. Grouchy* failed to appear ; 
 the imperial guard was beaten back ; Waterloo was lost. 
 Napoleon died a prisoner at St. Helena, because one of his 
 marshals was behind time. 
 
 3. A leading firm in commercial circles had long strug- 
 gled against bankruptcy. As it had enormous assets in 
 California, it expected remittances by a certain day, and if 
 the sums promised arrived, its credit, its honor, and its 
 future prosperity would be preserved. But week after 
 week elapsed without bringing* the gold. At last, came the 
 fatal day on which the firm had bills maturing to enormous 
 amounts. The steamer was telegraphed at day-break ; but 
 it was found on inquiry that she brought no funds ; and the 
 house failed. The next arrival brought nearly half a million 
 to the insolvents, but it was too late ; they were ruined, be- 
 cause their agent, in remitting, had been behind time. 
 ) 4. A condemned man was led out for execution. He had 
 taken human life, but under circumstances of the greatest 
 provocation, and public sympathy was active in his behalf 
 Thousands had signed petitions for a Teprieve, a favorable 
 answer had been expected the night before, and, though it 
 had not come, even the sheriff felt confident that it would 
 yet arrive in season. Thus the morning passed without the 
 appearance of the messenger. The last moment was up. 
 The prisoner took his place on the drop, the cap was drawn 
 over his eyes, the bolt was drawn, and a lifeless body hung 
 ^suspended in the air. Just at that moment a horseman 
 came into sight, galloping down the hill, his steed covered 
 with foam. He carried a packet in his right hand, which he 
 waved to the crowd. He was the express rider with the 
 reprieve. But he had come too late. A comparatively 
 
 * Pronounced Groo' shee. 
 
214 SANDEllS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 innocent man had died an ignominious death, becnuse a 
 watch had been five minutes too slow, making its bearer 
 arrive behind time. 
 
 5. It is continually so in life. The best laid plans, the 
 most important affairs, the fortunes of individuals, the weal 
 of nations, honor, happiness, life itself, are daily sacrificed 
 because somebody is '' behind time." There are men who 
 always fail in whatever they undertake, simply because they 
 are '^behind time." Five minutes in a crisis are worth 
 years. It is but a little period, yet it has often saved a for- 
 tune, or redeemed a people. If there is one virtue that 
 should be cultivated more than another by him who would 
 succeed in life, it is punctuality ; if there is one error that 
 should be avoided, it is being behind time. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What sad results are mentioned, in consequence of being 
 behind time 7 2. What virtue should be cultivated, and what error avoided ? 
 3. What is the use of the diaeresis in the vi oxdi reenforcements'? See San- 
 ders' New Speller, page 165. 
 
 LESSON LX. 
 
 Twin' ed, interwoven. ^ Throb' bed, beat ; palpitated. 
 
 Gar' land, wreath of flowers. \ Co' zy, snug ; comfortable. 
 
 Mu$' ED, thought ; meditated, \ Ebb' ed, flowed back. 
 
 An tique', {an teekf,) ancient. \ Jour' net, travel. 
 
 Mold, shape ; form. > Long' ing, earnestlj desiring. 
 
 Kare, scarce ; seldom seen. < Tie, bond of affection. 
 
 Sooth' ed, calmed ; quieted. ? Riv' en, torn asunder. 
 
 '^HOW HAPPY Vhh BEI" 
 
 1. A LITTLE girl sat amid the flowers, 
 
 In the blush and bloom of childhood\ hours; 
 She twined the buds in a garland fair, 
 And bound them up in her shining hair ; 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 215 
 
 *' Ah, me 1" said she, " how happy Fll 6e, 
 When ten years more have gone over me, 
 And I am a maiden with youth's bright glow 
 Flushing my cheek, and lighting my brow !" 
 
 A maiden mused in a pleasant room. 
 Where the air was filled with a soft perfume ; 
 Vases were near of antique mold, 
 And beautiful pictures, rare and old ; 
 And she, amid all the beauty there. 
 Was by far the loveliest and most fair. 
 *'Ah, me!" said she, ^^ hoiv happy I'llbe^ 
 When my heart's own choice comes back to me, 
 When I proudly stand by my dear one's side, 
 With the thrilling joy of a youthful bride 1" 
 
 A mother bent o'er the cradle nest. 
 Where she soothed her babe to his smiling rest; 
 She watched the sleep of her cherub-boy. 
 And her spirit throbbed with exulting joy. 
 " Ah, me !" said she, " how happy III be, 
 When he reaches manhood, proud and free. 
 And the world bows down, in its rapture wild, 
 At the earnest words of my darling child. 
 
 An aged one sat by the cozy hearth, 
 Counting life's sands as they ebbed from earth j 
 Feeble and frail ; the race she run 
 Had borne her along to the setting sun. 
 " Ah, me !' said she, ' ' how happy Fll be, 
 When from time's long fever my soul is free. 
 When the world fades out with its weary strife, 
 And I soar away to a better life !" 
 
216 SA^iDERS' U:VICN SERIES. 
 
 6. 'Tis thus we journey from youth to age, 
 Longing to turn to another page, 
 Striving to hasten the years away, 
 . Lighting our hearts with the future's ray, 
 Hoping on earth till its visions fade, 
 Wishing and waiting, through sun and shade, 
 But turning, when earth's last tie is riven, 
 To the beautiful rest of a fadeless Heaven. 
 
 Questions. — 1. When did the Kttle girl think she would be happy ? 2. 
 What did she say when she became old ? 3. What are we constantly ex- 
 pecting from youth to age ? 4. What is the meaning of the suffix ing, in 
 Buch words as longing, striving, lighting, &c. ? See Sanders & McElugott's 
 Analysis, page 134, Ex. It 6. 
 
 LESSON LXI. 
 
 Vet' er an, old soldier. J Im mor' tal, imperishable. 
 
 Grasp' ed, seized hold of. \ Rag' ed, was furious. 
 
 An' oient, old. | Re main$', still exists. 
 
 Mur' MtTR ED, uttered in a low voice. ] Sire, father. 
 Light' en ed, (en, make ; ed, did,) did make light. 
 
 THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL* 
 
 William E. Wallaok. 
 
 1. He lay upon his dying bed, 
 (/?/) His eye was growing dim. 
 
 When, with a feeble voice, he called 
 
 His weeping son to him : 
 *^ Weep not, my boy," the veteran said, 
 
 *'I bow to Heaven's high will; 
 But quickly from yon antlers bring, 
 The sword of Bunker Hill." 
 
KUMBEU FOUR. 217 
 
 2. The sword was brought ; the soldier's eje 
 
 Lit with a sudden flame ; 
 And, as he grasped the ancient blade, 
 
 He murmured Warren's* name ; 
 Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold, 
 
 But what is richer still, 
 I leave you, mark me, mark me, now, 
 
 The sword of Bunker Hill. 
 
 3. " 'Twas on that dread, immortal day, 
 
 I dared the Briton's band, 
 A captain raised his blade on me, 
 
 I tore it from his hand ; 
 And while the glorious battle raged. 
 
 It lightened Freedom's will ; 
 For, boy, the God of Freedom blessed 
 
 The sword of Bunker Hill. 
 
 4. " Oh ! keep this sword," his accents broke, — 
 
 A smile, — and he was dead ; 
 But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade. 
 
 Upon that dying bed. 
 The son remains, the sword remains. 
 
 Its glory growing still. 
 And twenty millions bless the sire 
 
 And sword of Bunker Hill. 
 
 Questions.— 1. What request did the old veteran make of his son ? 2. 
 "What bequest did he make to him ? 3. How did he obtain that sword ? 
 4. What did he say to his son ? 5. Who was Warren ? 
 
 * General Warren, a brave and valuable officer, fell by a musket-ball, 
 while fighting the British at Bunker's Hill, June 17th, IT 75. 
 4 U 10 
 
218 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LXII. 
 
 Le' dEND, fictitious narrative. 
 Mor' tal, deadly. 
 Com' bat, battle ;" conflict. 
 Pri me' val, first ; primitive. 
 Mxjs' cu LAR, strong ; vigorous. 
 Ca dav' er ous, pale ; sickly. 
 Ref u gee', runaway ; fugitive. 
 QU4r' ter, mercy ; indulgence. 
 Pin' ion ed, confined ; shackled. 
 A BYSS', yawniag gulf. 
 
 Pro po$' al, offer ; proposition. 
 
 Im bo' $om ED, surrounded ; inclosed. 
 
 Di SHEv' EL ED, disordered. 
 
 Con fess' ed, owned; acknowledged. 
 
 Re lent' ing, pitying; corapassionato. 
 
 Ran' dom, venture. [lief. 
 
 Su PER STi" TiON, false religious be- 
 ^ A venge', take satisfaction for. 
 < Un con' sciotjs, unaware. 
 i Sub lim' i ty, grandeur. 
 
 THE BIBLE LEGEND OF THE WIS SA HT KON* 
 
 LlPPARI>. 
 
 1. It was here in the wilds of the Wissahi'kon, on the 
 day of battle, as the noonday sun came shining through the 
 thickly clustered leaves, that two men met in mortal combat. 
 They grappled in deadly conflict near a rock that rose, like 
 the huge wreck of some primeval world, at least one hun- 
 dred feet above the dark waters of the Wis sa hi'kon. 
 
 2. That man with the dark brow and the darker gray 
 eye, — ^with the . muscular form, clad in the blue hunting- 
 frock of the Revolution, — is a Continental, named Warner. 
 His brother was murdered at the massacre of Paoli. That 
 other man, with long black hair drooping along his cadav- 
 erous face, is clad in the half-military costume of a Tory 
 refugee. That is the murderer of Pao'li, named Dabney. 
 
 3. They had met there in the woods by accident ; and 
 now they fought, not with sword or rifle, but with long and 
 deadly hunting-knives, that flash in the light as they go 
 turning, and twining, and twisting over the green-sward. 
 At last, the Tory is down ! — down on the green-sward, with 
 the knee of the Continental upon his breast, — that up-raised 
 
NUMBER FOUR. ' 219 
 
 knife quivering in the light, — that dark-gray eye flashing 
 death into his face ! 
 
 4. "Quarter! I yiekl!*' gasped the Tory, as the knee 
 Tvas pressed upon his hreast. " Spare me ! — I yield !" 
 
 5. "My brother," said the patriot soldier, in a low tone 
 of deadly hate, — "iWy brother cried for quarter on the 
 night of Pao'li, and, even as he clung to your knees, you 
 struck that knife into his heart. Oh, I will give you the 
 quarter of Pao'li !" And his hand was raised for the blow, 
 and his teeth were clinched in deadly hate. He paused for 
 a moment, and then pinioned the Tory's arms, and, with 
 one rapid stride, dragged him to the verge of the rock, and 
 held him quivering over the abyss. 
 
 6. "Mercy!"' gasped the Tory, turning black and ashy 
 by turns, as that awful gulf yawned below. ^'' Mercy ! I 
 have a wife! a child! spare me.'" 
 
 7. Then the Continental, with his muscular strength 
 gathered for the effort, shook the murderer once miOre over 
 the abyss, and then hissed this bitter sneer between his 
 teeth, — "iliy brother had a ivife and tu'o children. The 
 morning after the night of Pa o'li, that wife was a widow, — 
 those children were orphans ! Would not you like to go 
 and beg your life of that widow and her children?" 
 
 8. The proposal, made by the Continental in the mere 
 mockery of hate, was taken in serious earnest by the horror- 
 stricken Tory. He begged to be taken to the widow and 
 her children, to have the pitiful privilege of begging his life. 
 After a moment's serious thought, the patriot soldier con- 
 sented. He bound the Tory's arms yet tighter, placed him 
 on the rock again, and then led him up the Avoods. A 
 quiet cottage, imbosomed among the trees, broke on their 
 eyes. 
 
 9. They entered that cottage. There, beside the desolate 
 
220 SANbEHS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 hearth-stone, sat the "widow and her children. She was a 
 matronly woman of about thirty years, with a face faded 
 by care, a deep, dark eye, and long, disheveled hair about 
 her shoulder. On one side was a dark-haired boy, of some 
 six years ; on the other, a little girl, one year younger, with 
 light hair and blue eyes. The Bible, an old, venerable vol- 
 ume, lay open on that mother's lap. 
 
 10. And then that pale-faced Tory flung himself on his 
 kneeSj confessed that he had butchered her husband on the 
 night of Pao'li, but begged his life at her hands ! ^^ Spare 
 me, for the sake of my wife — mij child T'' He had ex- 
 pected that his pitiful moan would touch the widow's heart; 
 but not one relenting gleam softened her pale face. 
 
 11. " The Lord shall judge between us !" she said in a 
 cold, icy tone, that froze the murderer's heart. " Look I 
 The Bible lies open before me. I will close that volume, 
 and then this boy shall open it, and place his finger at ran- 
 dom upon a line, and by that line you shall live or die !" 
 This was a strange proposal, made in full faith of a wild and 
 dark superstition of the olden time. For a moment, the 
 Tory, kneeling there, livid as ashes, was wrapt in thought. 
 Then, in a faltering voice, he signified his consent. 
 
 12. Raising her dark eyes to heaven, the mother prayed 
 the Great Father to direct the finger of her son. She closed 
 the book, and handed it to that boy, whose young cheek 
 reddened with loathing as he gazed upon his father's mur- 
 derer. He took the Bible, opened its holy pages at random, 
 and placed his fingers upon a verse. 
 
 13. Then there was a silence. That Continental soldier, 
 who had sworn to avenge his brother's death, stood there 
 with dilating eyes and parted lips. Then the culprit, kneel- 
 ing on the floor, with a face like discolored clay, felt his 
 heart leap to his throat. Then, in a clear, bold voice, the 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 221 
 
 widow read this line from the Old Testament. It was short, 
 yet terrible : " Tkat man shall die /" 
 
 14. Look! The brother springs forward to plunge a 
 knife into the murderer s heart ; but the Tory, pinioned as 
 he is, begs that one more trial may be made by the little 
 gill, — that child of five years, with golden hair and laughing 
 eyes. The widow consents. There is an awful pause. 
 With a smile in her eye, without knowing what she does, the 
 little girl opens the Bible. — she turns her laughing face 
 away, — she places her fingers upon the page. 
 
 15. That awful silence grows deeper. The deep-drawn 
 breath of the brother, and the broken gasps of the murderer, 
 alone disturb the stillness. The widow and dark-eyed boy 
 are breathless. That little girl, unconscious as she was, 
 caught a feeling of awe from the countenances around her, 
 and stood breathless, her face turned aside, and her tiny- 
 fingers resting on that line of life or death. At last, gather- 
 ing courage, the widow bent her eyes on the page, and read. 
 It was a line from the New Testament: ^'LovB your 
 EXExMiES." Ah ! that moment was sublime ! 
 
 16. Oh, awful Book of God ! in whose dread pages we 
 see Job talking face to face with Jehovah, or Jesus waiting 
 by Samaria's well, or wandering by the waves of dark Gal- 
 ilee ! Oh, awful Book ! shining to-night, as I speak, the 
 light of that widow's home, — the glory of the mechanic's 
 shop, — shining where the world comes n^t, to look on the 
 last night of the convict in his cellj lightening the way to 
 God, even over that dread gibbet ! 
 
 17. Oh, Book of terrible majesty and childlike love, — for 
 sublimity that crushes the soul into awe, — of beauty that 
 melts the heart with rapture ! you never shone more 
 strangely beautiful than there in the lonely cot of the Wis- 
 sahi'kon, where you saved the murderer's life. For, — need 
 
222 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 I tell you? — that murderer's life was saved. That widow 
 recognized the finger of God, and even the stern brother was 
 awed into silence. The murderer went his way. 
 
 18. Now look ye, how wonderful are the ways of Heaven! 
 That very night, as the widow sat by her lonely hearth, her 
 orphans by her side, — sat there with a crushed heart and 
 hot eye-balls, thinking of her husband, who, she supposed, 
 now lay moldering on the blood-drenched soil of Pa o'li, — 
 there was a tap at the door. She opened it, and that hus- 
 , band, living, though covered with wounds, was in her arms ! 
 He had fallen at Pao'li, but not in death. He ivas alive, — 
 his wife lay panting on his breast. That night there was a 
 prayer in that wood-embowered cot of the Wis sa hi'kon. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What two men are said to Lave engaged in deadly com- 
 bat? 2. Which gained the mastery? 3. What did the patriot soldier say 
 to the Tory, when he cried, Quarter ? 4. What, when the Tory told him 
 he had a wife and child ? 5. What proposal was made to him ? 6. How 
 was his fate to be decided ? T. Was his life spared ? 8. What proved the 
 justice of the decision ? 
 
 LESSON LXIII. 
 
 Yes' ti bule, porch, entrance. < II lu' min ate, enlighten. 
 
 Yi' BiiATE, move to and fro. Un dee stand' ing, intellect. 
 
 Im mor' tal$, undying creatures. \ Re al' i tie$, truths ; facts. 
 
 Mon' u ments, memorials. l As saults', violent attacks. 
 
 A chieve', accomplish. De $er' tion, abandonment. 
 
 Mu' TA BLE, changeable. < In ex haust' i ble, never-failing. 
 
 Im mor tal' I TY, deathless existence.? Char' ter, title ; deed. 
 
 ADVICE TO THE YOUNG. 
 
 E. II. Chapix. 
 
 1. YouNa Friends', in whatever pursuits you may en- 
 gage, you must not forget that the lawful objects of human 
 eiForts, are but means to higher results and nobler ends. 
 
NUMBER IFOUR. 223 
 
 Start not forward in life with the idea of becoming mere 
 seekers of pleasure, — sportive butterflies searching for gaudy 
 flowers. Consider and act with reference to the true ends 
 of existence. 
 
 2. This world is but the vestibule of an immortal life. 
 Every action of your life touches on some chord that will 
 vibrate in eternity. These thoughts and motives within you, 
 stir the pulses of a deathless spirit. Act not, then, as mere 
 creatures of this life', who, for a little while, are to walk the 
 valleys and the hills', to enjoy the sunshine and to breathe 
 the air', and then pass away and be no more' ; but act as 
 immortals', with an aim and a purpose worthy of your high 
 nature\ 
 
 3. Set before you, as the chief object to be' obtained, an 
 end that is superior to any on earth\ — a desirable end^^ A 
 PERFECT end\ Labor to accomplish a work which shall 
 survive unchanged and beautiful, when time shall have 
 withered the garland of youth\ when thrones of power and 
 monuments of art shall have crumbled into ashes^ ; and, 
 finally, aim to achieve something', which, when these our 
 mutable and perishing voices are hushed forever', shall live 
 amid the songs and triumphs of immortality . 
 
 4. Well will it be for you, if you have a guide within, 
 which will aid you in every issue\ which will arm you in 
 every temptation', and comfort you in every sorrow\ Con- 
 sult, then, that Volume whose precepts will never fail you. 
 Consult it with a deep aspiration after the true and good, 
 and it shall illuminate your understanding with divine 
 realities. 
 
 5. Open your soul, and it shall breathe into it a holy 
 influence, and fill all its wants. Bind it close to your 
 heart^ ; it will be a shield against all the assaults of evil. 
 Read it in the lonely hour of desertion^ : it will be the best 
 
224 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 of companions. Open it when the voyage of life is troubled^; 
 it is a sure chart. Study it in poverty^ ; it will unhoard to 
 you inexhaustible riches. Commune with it in sickness^ ; it 
 contains the medicine of the soul. Clasp it when dying\ 
 
 IT IS THE CHARTER OP IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What ought we not to forget? 2. How ought the world 
 to be regarded ? 3. How ought we to act and labor 7 4. What ought we 
 to consult ? 
 
 LESSON LXIV. 
 
 In TEEP' ID, brave; heroic. I Buf' feting, beating with the hands. 
 
 Be to' ken ED, showed ; indicated. > Ath let' ic, strong ; powerful. 
 
 E las' tic, springy ; agile. < Mi rac' u lous, wonderful. 
 
 At' ti tude, posture ; position. i Tre men' dous, terrible ; frightful. 
 
 Un' der growth, shrubbery. \ Des' pe rate, rash ; furious. 
 
 Con front', stand before. | In vol' tjn ta ry, spontaneous. 
 
 Ca tas' tro phe, disaster ; calamity. ) Cat' a ract, waterfall. 
 
 De ter' RED, hinsiiered; prevented. | Re sus'ci tate, revive; bring to lifo. 
 
 Hur' ri cane, violent tempest ) Char'ac ter iz ed, distinguished. 
 
 THE INTREPID YOUTH. 
 
 1. It was a calm, sunny day in the year 1750 ; the scene, 
 a piece of forest-land in the north of Virginia, near a noble 
 stream of water. Implements of surveying were lying about, 
 and several men reclining under the trees, betokened, by 
 their dress and appearance, that they composed a party en- 
 gaged in laying out the wild lands of the country. 
 
 2. These persons had apparently just finished their din- 
 ner. Apart from the group, walked a young man of a tall 
 and compact frame, and moved with the elastic tread of one 
 accustomed to constant exercise in the open air. Ilis coun- 
 
KUMBER FOUR. 225 
 
 tenance wore a look of decision and manliness not usually 
 found in one so young, for he was apparently little over 
 eighteen years of age. His hat had been cast off, as if for 
 comfort, and he had paused, with one foot advanced, in a 
 graceful and natural attitude. 
 
 3. Suddenly there was a shriek, then another, and several 
 in rapid succession. The voice was that of a woman, and 
 seemed to proceed from the other side of a dense thicket. 
 At the first scream, the youth turned his head in the direc- 
 tion of the sound; but when it was repeated, he pushed 
 aside the undergrowth which separated him from it, and, 
 quickening his footsteps, as the cries succeeded each other 
 in alarming rapidity, he soon dashed into an open space on 
 the banks of the stream, where stood a rude log-cabin. 
 
 4. As the young man broke from the undergrowth, he 
 saw his companions crowded together on the banks of the 
 river, while in the midst stood the woman, from whom pro- 
 ceeded the shrieks, held back by two of the men, but strug- 
 gling vigorously for freedom. It was but the work of a 
 moment for the young man to make his way through the 
 crowd and confront the female. The instant her eye fell on 
 him, she exclaimed, " Oh ! sir, you will do something for me. 
 Make them release me, — for the love of God ! My boy^ — 
 ony poor boy is drowning^ and they will not let me go P'' 
 "It would be madness; she will jump into the river," 
 said one, " and the rapids would dash her to pieces in a 
 moment !" 
 
 5. The youth had scarcely waited for these words, for he 
 recollected the child, a bold little boy of four years old, 
 whose beautiful blue eyes and flaxen ringlets made him a 
 favorite with all who knew him. He had been accustomed 
 to play in the little inclosure before the cabin, but the gate 
 having been left open, he had stolen incautiously out, reached 
 
 4 U 10* 
 
226 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 the edge of the bank, and was in the act of looking oyer, 
 when his mother saw him. 
 
 6. The shriek she uttered only hastened the catastrophe 
 she feared ; for the child, frightened at the crj of its mother, 
 lost its balance, and fell into the stream, which here went 
 foaming and roaring along amid innumerable rocks, constitu- 
 ting the most dangerous rapids known in that section of the 
 country. Scream now followed scream in rapid succession, 
 as the agonized mother rushed to the bank. 
 
 7. The party we left reclining in the shade within a few 
 steps of the accident, were immediately on the spot. Fortu- 
 nate it was that they were so near, else the mother would 
 have jumped in after her child, and both been- lost. Several 
 of the men approached the brink, and were on the point of 
 springing in after the child, when the sight of the sharp 
 rocks crowding the channel, the rush and whirl of the 
 waters, and the want of any knowledge where to look for 
 the boy, deterred them, and they gave up the enterprise. 
 
 8. Not so with the noble youth. His first work was to 
 throw off his coat ; next to spring to the edge of the bank. 
 Here he stood for a moment, running his eyes rapidly over 
 the scene below, taking with a glance the different currents 
 and the most dangerous of the rocks, in order to shape his 
 course when in the stream. He had scarcely formed his 
 conclusion, when he saw in the water a white object, which 
 he knew to be the boy's dress, and he plunged into the wild 
 and roaring rapids. 
 
 9. '' Thank God, he ivill save my child^^^ cried the 
 mother f**' Mere he is! — oh! my boy^ m,y darling boy^ 
 how cmdd I leave you!^^ Every one had rushed to the 
 brink of tke precipice, and was now following with eager 
 eyes the progress of the youth, as the current bore him on- 
 ■ward, like a feather in the embrace of the hurricane. Now 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 
 
 22T 
 
 it seemed as if he would be dashed against a jutting rock, 
 pver which the water flew in foam, and a whirlpool would 
 drag him in, from whose grasp escape would appear impos- 
 sible. 
 
 10. At times, the current bore him under, and he would 
 be lost to sight ; then, just as the spectators gave him up, he 
 would appear, though far from where he vanished, still buf- 
 feting amid the vortex. Oh, how that mother's straining 
 eyes followed him in his perilous career ! how her heart sunk 
 when he went under, — and with what a gush of joy when 
 she saw him emerge again from the waters, and, flinging the 
 waves aside with his athletic arms, struggle on in pursuit of 
 her boy ! 
 
 11. But it seemed as if his generous eflbrts were not to 
 avail ; for, though the current was bearing off the boy before 
 his eyes, scarcely ten feet distant, he could not, despite his 
 gigantic efforts, overtake the drowning child. On flew the 
 youth and child ; and it was miraculous how each escaped 
 being dashed in pieces against the rocks. Twice the boy 
 went out of sight, and a suppressed shriek escaped the 
 mother's lips ; but twice he reappeared, and then, with 
 hands wrung wildly together, and breathless anxiety, she 
 followed his progress, as his unresisting form was hurried 
 with the onward current. 
 
 12. The youth now appeared to redouble his exertions, for 
 they were approaching the most dangerous part of the river, 
 where the rapids, contracting between the narrow shores, 
 shot almost perpendicularly down a declivity of fifteen feet. 
 Ttie rush of the waters at this spot was tremendous, and no 
 one ventured to approach its vicinity, even in a canoe, lest 
 he should be dashed in pieces. What, then, would be 
 the youth's fate, unless he soon overtook the child? He 
 seemed fully sensible of the increasing peril, and noyf 
 
228 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 urged his way through the foaming current with a des- 
 perate strength. 
 
 13. Three times he was on the point of grasping the 
 child, when the waters whirled the prize from him. The 
 third eflfort was made just as they were entering within the 
 influence of the current above the fall ; and when it failed, 
 the mother's heart sunk within her, and she groaned, fully 
 expecting the youth to give up his task. But no^ ; he only 
 pressed forward the more eagerly ; and, as they breathlessly 
 watched amid the boiling waters, they saw the form of the 
 brave youth following close after that of the boy. 
 
 14. And now, like an arrow from the bow, pursuer and 
 pursued shot to the brink of the precipice. An instant they 
 hung there, distinctly visible amid the foaming waters. Every 
 brain grew dizzy at the sight. But a shout of involuntary 
 exultation burst from the spectators, when they saw the boy 
 held aloft by the right arm of the youth, — a shout that was 
 suddenly checked with horror, when they both vanished 
 into the abyss below ! 
 
 15. A moment elapsed before a word was spoken, or a 
 breath drawn. The mother ran forward, and then stood 
 gazing with fixed eyes at the foot of the cataract, as if her 
 all depended upon what the next moment should reveal. 
 Suddenly she gave the glad cry, (/.) " There they are ! 
 See! they are safe! — Great God, I thank thee!" And, 
 sure enough, there was the youth still unharmed, and still 
 buffeting the waters. He had just emerged from the boiling 
 vortex below the cataract. With one hand he held aloft the 
 child, and with the other he was making for the shore. 
 
 16. They, ran, they shouted, they scarcely knew what 
 they did, until they reached his side, just as he was strug- 
 gling to the bank. They drew him out almost exhausted. 
 The boy was senseless ; but hia mother declared that he still 
 
NUMBER Jb^OUR. 2ii) 
 
 lived, as she pressed him frantically to her bosom. The 
 youth could scarcely stand, so faint was he from his exertions. 
 
 17. Who can describe . the scene that followed, — the 
 mother's calmness while she strove to resuscitate her boy, 
 and her wild gratitude to his preserver, when the child was 
 out of danger, and sweetly sleeping in hei* arms ? Our pea 
 shrinks at the task. But her words, pronounced then, were 
 remembered afterwards by more than one w^ho heard them. 
 
 18. '''God will reward you,^ said she, " as / can not. He 
 "will do great things for you in return for this day's work, 
 and the blessings of thousands besides mine will attend you." 
 And so it was ; for, to the he?'o of that hour, were subse- 
 quently confided the destinies of a mighty nation. But, 
 throughout his long career, what tended to make him more 
 honored and respected beyond all men, was the self-sacri- 
 ficing spirit^ which, in the rescue of that mother's child, as 
 in the more august events of his life, characterized our 
 BELOVED Washington. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Describe the scene where this accident took place. 
 2. What did the woman say to the young man ? 3. Why would not the 
 men release the woman ? 4. What did the young man do ? 5. Did he 
 finally succeed in saving the child ? 6. What did the mother say to him ? 
 7. Who did this youth prove to be ? 
 
 LESSON LXV. 
 
 Ply, use ; employ. 5 Ser' ri ed, crowded ; compacted. 
 
 Brand, sword. | Btjl' wark, fort ; rampart. 
 
 Charg' er, war-horse. j Squad' ron$, bodies of troops. 
 
 Sway, rule ; government. | Bourn, limit ; boundary. 
 
 Gov' ERTS, secret places. \ Ham' let, small village. 
 
 Haunt, follow up ; frequent. > Strand, shore of the sea or lake. 
 Cleave, rive; split. [woods. | Marge, border; margin. 
 
 WQQD'-CRiTT, occupations in the \ Grim, stern; rigid. 
 
230 SANDERS' UNION SJERXES. 
 
 OUR COUNTRY'S CALL. 
 
 William C. Bstant. 
 
 1. Lay down the ax ; fling by the spade ; 
 
 Leave in its track the toiling plow ; 
 The rifle and the bayonet blade 
 
 For arms like yours were fitter now : 
 And let the hands that ply the pen 
 
 Quit the light task, and learn to wield 
 The horseman's crooked brand, and rein 
 
 The charger on the battle-field. 
 
 2. Our Country calls ; ("•) away ! away I 
 
 To where the blood-stream blots the green; 
 Strike to defend the gentlest sway 
 
 That Time in all its course has seen. 
 See, from a thousand coverts — see, 
 
 Spring the armed foes that haunt her track ; 
 They rush to smite her down, and we 
 
 Must beat the banded traitors back. 
 
 3. Ho ! sturdy as the oaks ye cleave, 
 
 And moved as soon to fear and flight, 
 Men of the glade and forest, leave 
 
 Your woodcraft for the field of fight ! 
 The arms that wield the ax must pour 
 
 An iron tempest on the foe ; 
 His serried ranks shall reel before 
 
 The arm that lays the panther low. 
 
 /' 
 
 4. And ye, who breast the mountain storm, 
 
 By grassy steep or highland lake, 
 Come, for the land ye love, to form 
 A bulwark that no foe can break. 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 
 
 231 
 
 Stand, like your own gray cliffs that mock 
 The whirlwind ; stand in her defense ^ 
 
 The blast as soon shall move the rock 
 As rushing squadrons bear ye thence. 
 
 5. And ye, whose homes are by her grand, 
 
 Swift rivers, rising far away, 
 Come from the depth of her green land, 
 
 As mighty in your march as they j 
 As terrible as when the rains 
 
 Have swelled them over bank and bourn, 
 With sudden floods to drown the plains, 
 
 And sweep along the woods uptorn. 
 
 6. And ye, who throng beside the deep, 
 
 Her ports and hamlets of the strand 
 In number like the waves that leap 
 
 On his long murmuring marge of sand. 
 Come, like the deep, when o'er his brim 
 
 He rises, all his floods to pour. 
 And flings the proudest barks that swim, 
 
 A helpless wreck against his shore. 
 
 7. Few, few were they whose swords of old 
 
 Won the fair land in which we dwell ,* 
 But we are many, — we who hold 
 The grim resolve to guard it well. 
 (/.) S'rike^for that broad and goodly land^ 
 Blow after blow^ till inen shall see 
 That Might and Right move hand in hand^ 
 And glorious must their triumph be. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What does the writer call on us to do ? 2. To whom 
 does he appeal ? 3. "Who are meant \>j few in the last verse ? 4. For 
 what are they to strike ? 
 
232 SASDEKS' USIOi'- SERIES. 
 
 LESSON LXVI. 
 
 Fu Tu' Ri TY, events to come. c Yaq' a bond, vagrant; worthless. 
 
 Con sult', counsel with. Im' pu dence, sauciness. 
 
 Pre ten' sion$, claims ; assumptions. Des' ti ny, fate ; final lot. 
 
 For' ti tude, patience ; endurance. \ De ceas' ed, dead. 
 
 Mod' el, pattern ; example. De priv' ed, robbed. 
 
 IIe$ ig na' tion, submissiveness. | In cur' red, brought on ; caused. 
 
 VER WHELM$', overcomes. Con sul ta' tion$, counselings. 
 In grat' I TUDE, unthankfulness. i Cal cd" la' tion$, reckonings. 
 
 Pre ter nat' u ral, (preter, beyond^) beyond what is natural ; mirac- 
 ulous. ( 
 
 In volv' ed, (in, in ; volved, rolled ;) rolled in ; enveloped. 
 
 Jn ter rupt', (inter, in, between ; rupt, to break ;) break in between ; 
 stop; hinder. 
 
 ^ Job, a patriarch, celebrated for his patience, constancy, and piety. 
 
 For note on DAvid, see page 138. 
 
 Note. — The dash at the end of a remark, denotes that the speaker i& 
 interrupted by the one with whom he is conversing. 
 
 MRS* CREDULOUS AND THE FORTUME-TELLER* 
 
 Mrs. Credulous. Are you the fortune-teller, sir, that 
 knows every thing'? 
 
 Fortune- Teller. I sometimes consult futurity, madam; 
 but I make no pretensions to any supernatural knowledge. 
 
 Mrs. C. Ay\ so you say ; but every body else says you 
 know eve?'i/ thing ; and I have come all the way from Boston 
 to consult you ; for you must know I have met with a dread- 
 ful loss, 
 
 P. T. We are liable to losses in this world\ madam'. 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes^ ; and I have had my share of them, though 
 
 1 shall be only fifty, come Thanksgiving. 
 
 F. T. You must have learned to bear misfortunes with 
 fortitude, by this time. 
 
 Mrs. 0. I don't know how that is, though my dear 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 233 
 
 husband, rest his soul, used to saj, "Mollj, you are as 
 patient as Job*, though you never had any children to lose, 
 as he had." 
 
 F. T. Job was a model of patience, madam, and few 
 could lose their all with so much resignation, 
 
 Mrs. C. Ah, sir', that is too true^ ; for even the small 
 loss / have suffered, overwhelms me ! 
 
 F. T. The loss of property, madam, comes home to the 
 bosom of the best of us. 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes, sir ; and when the thing lost can not ba rcr 
 placed, it is doubly distressing. When my poor, good man, 
 on our wedding day, gave me the ring, ^'Keep it, Molly," 
 said he, ''till you die, for my sake." And now, that I 
 should have lost it, after keeping it thirty years, and locking 
 it up so carefully all the time, as I did — 
 
 F. T. We can not be too careful in this world, madam ; 
 our best friends often deceive us. 
 
 Mrs. G. True, sir, true, — but who would have thought 
 that the child I took, as it were, out of the street, and brought 
 up as my own, could have been guilty of such ingratitude ? 
 She never would have touched what was not her own, if her 
 vagabond lover had not put her up to it. 
 
 F. T. Ah, madam, ingratitude is the basest of all crimes I 
 
 Mrs. G. Yes ; but to think that the impudent creature 
 should deny she took it, when I saw it in the possession of 
 that wretch myself. 
 
 F. T. Impudence, madam, usually accompanies crime, 
 But my time is precious, and the star that rules your des- 
 tiny will set, and your fate be involved in darkness, unless I 
 proceed to business immediately. The star informs me, 
 madam, that you are a widow. 
 
 Mrs. G, La ! sir, were you acquainted with my deceased 
 husband ? 
 
234 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 F. T. No, madam ; we do not receive our knowledge by 
 such means. Tb j name is Mary, and thj dwelling-place is 
 Boston. 
 
 Mrs. C. Some spirit must have told you this, for certain. 
 
 F. T. This is not all, madam. You were married at the 
 age of twenty years, and were the sole heir of your deceased 
 husband. 
 
 Mrs. C. I perceive, sir, you know every thing. 
 
 F. T. Madam, I can not help knowing what I do know; 
 I must therefore inform you that your adopted daughter, in 
 the dead of night — 
 
 Mrs. G. No, sir ; it was in the day-time. 
 
 F. T. Do not interrupt me, madam. In the dead of 
 night, your adopted daughter planned the robbery which 
 deprived you of your wedding-ring. 
 
 Mis. C. No earthly being could have told you this, for I 
 never let my right hand know that I possessed it, lest some 
 evil should happen to it. 
 
 F. T. Hear me, madam ; you have come all this distance 
 to consult the fates, and find your ring. 
 
 Mrs. C You have guessed my intention exactly, sir. 
 
 F. T. Guessed' ! madam'. I know this is your object ; 
 and I know, moreover, that your ungrateful daughter has 
 incurred your displeasure, by receiving the addresses of a 
 worthless man. 
 
 Mrs. C. Every word is gospel truth. 
 
 F. T. This man has persuaded your daughter — 
 
 Mrs. C. I knew he did, I told her so. But good sir, can 
 you tell me who has the ring? 
 
 F. T. This young man has it. 
 
 Mrs. C. But he denies it. 
 
 F. T. No matter, madam, he has it. 
 
 Mrs. C. But how shall I obtain it again ? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 235 
 
 F. T. The law points out the way, madam, — it is my 
 business to point out the rogue, — you must catch him. 
 
 Mrs. C. You are right, sir, — and if there is law to be 
 had, I will spend every cent I own, but I will have it. I 
 knew he was the robber, and I thank you for the informa- 
 tion. [ Going. ] 
 
 F. T. But thanks, madam, will not pay for all my 
 lightly vigils, consultations, and calculations. 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, right, sir ! I forgot to pay you. What am 
 [ indebted to you ? 
 
 F. T. Only five dollars, madam. 
 
 Mrs. C. [Handing him the money ^^^ There it is,'feir. 
 I would have paid twenty rather than not have found the 
 ring. 
 
 F. T. I never take but five, madam. Farewell, madam, 
 your friend is at the door with your chaise. 
 
 [He leaves the room.] 
 
 [Enter ^ Friend.] 
 
 Friend. Well, Mary, what does the fortune-teller say ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, he told me I was a widow, and lived in 
 Boston, and had an adopted daughter, — and, — 
 
 Friend. But you knew all this before, did you not ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Yes ; but how should he know it ? He told me, 
 too, that I had lost a ring, — 
 
 Friend. Did he tell you where to find it ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh yes ! he says that fellow has it, and I must 
 go to law and get it, if he will not give it up. What do you 
 think of that ? 
 
 Friend. It is precisely what any fool could have told you. 
 But how much did you pay for this precious information ? 
 
 Mrs. C. Only five dollars. 
 
 Friend. How much was the ring worth ? 
 
236 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ifr5. C. Why, two dollars, at least. 
 
 Friend. Then you have paid ten dollars for a chaise to 
 bring you here, five dollars for the information that you had 
 already, and all this to gain possession of a ring not worth 
 one quarter of the expense ! 
 
 Mrs. C. Oh, the rascal ! how he has cheated me ! I will 
 go to the world's end but I will be revenged. 
 
 Friend. You had better go home, and say nothing about 
 it ; for every effort to recover your money, will only expose 
 your folly. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What had Mrs. Credulous said, by which the fortune- 
 teller knew all the circumstances relative to the loss of her ring? 2. How 
 was she told she must get her ring ? 3. What did she pay the fortune- 
 teller ? 4. How much for the chaise ? 5. What was her ring worth ? 6. 
 Was she a bright dame ? 
 
 ^965^^36^^^^ 
 
 LESSON LXVII. 
 
 TTn" fal' ter ing, steady. s Con tent' ment, satisfaction. 
 
 Con fid' ing ly, trustingly. J Mea' ger, scanty. 
 
 Sooth' ing ly, tenderly ; calmly. Con' fi dence, faith ; reliance. 
 
 Al lur' ing, seductive ; flattering, j As suag' ed, relieved ; mitigated. 
 
 Ap pro' pri ate, proper ; peculiar. Fer' yen cy, heat ; ardent feeling. 
 
 Sub mis' sion, resignation. \ Ra di a' tion, luster. 
 
 In' va lid, sick or infirm person. i Fru i" tion, realization ; enjoyment. 
 
 1 Al' le go ry is a word of Greek origin. It is made up of two parts 
 all, other; and egory, discourse; the literal meaning of the compound 
 being, discourse about other things ; that is, things other than those ex- 
 pressed by the words, hterally interpreted. Allegory is, therefore, the gcn- 
 aral name for that class of compositions, as Fables, Apologues, Parables, and 
 Myths, in which there is a double representation, one literal and the other 
 figurative ; the literal being designed merely to give a more clear and im- 
 pressive view of that which is figurative. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 237 
 
 FAITH, HOPE, AND C H A R )( T Y *-An Allegory.^ 
 
 If 
 
 1. Many years ago, three beautiful sisters came into our 
 
 world to lighten the burdens of earth's toiling pilgrims, and 
 aid them in preparation for a higher state of existence. 
 Alike commissioned by the Great Father, they were sent on 
 errands of mercy, and were not to turn away from scenes of 
 darkness, sorrow, and suffering. 
 
 2. Faith had a firm, unfaltering step ; Hope, a beaming 
 eye, ever turned to the future ; and Love, a pitying glance, 
 and helping hand. They journeyed confidingly together; 
 and when they found a stricken being in danger of perishing 
 by the wayside, Faith soothingly whispered, ''My Father 
 doeth all things well;" Hope pointed to the cooling shade 
 just in advance ; and Love assisted him to rise, and aided 
 his feeble steps. 
 
 3. Groups of fair children played near the path where 
 they were traveling. Some of these did not understand the 
 tones of Faith ; but they all listened eagerly to the alluring 
 strains of Hope, who painted brighter scenes than those they 
 were enjoying, and flowers more fragrant than any they yet 
 had gathered. Love delighted to linger with the youthful 
 band, lessening their trials, and increasing their pleasures. 
 
 4. Her gentle touch arrested the little hand that was 
 lifted against a playmate, and her soothing voice calmed tho 
 angry passions which were swelling in the bosom. When a 
 child stumbled in the way, she tenderly raised it up again, 
 or when a thorn pierced the unwary finger, she kindly re- 
 moved it, and bound up the bleeding wound. 
 
 5. While the sisters were busy in their appropriate mis- 
 sion, a pale-cheeked lad mingled with the group of merry 
 children, though too weak to share their sports. Faith 
 stole to his side, and whispered ©f the great Parent above, 
 
238 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 •who afflicts in wisdom, and chastens in love. His eye bright- 
 ened while she spoke, and he looked upward with that trust 
 and submission which he had never before exercised. 
 
 6. Then Hope came, with visions of returning health, 
 when his frame would be strong and his heart buoyant. 
 But when Hope and Faith were gone, again his head 
 drooped, and the tear started. Then Love sat down by the 
 invalid, twining a garland of summer blossoms for his pale 
 brow, and singing sweet melodies which charmed his listen- 
 ing ear. The pain was all gone now ; smiles wreathed his 
 pallid lips, and the sick boy laughed as merrily as his more 
 robust companions. 
 
 7. The sisters, in their journeyings, entered the abode of 
 poverty. It was a humble dwelling, and yet it looked cheer- 
 ful, yea, even inviting, when the three graced it with their 
 presence. Faith shed a spirit of calm contentment and 
 heavenly trust in those lowly walls ; Hope whispered of the 
 better mansions prepared for the followers of the Lamb ; and 
 Love, not less exalted than her sisters, threw a charm over 
 the meager fare and scanty attire of the inmates. Faith 
 taught them to offer the daily prayer in trusting confidence ; 
 Hope pointed beyond this world to joys which eye hath not 
 seen, nor ear heard ; while Love lessened each burden, and 
 increased each simple pleasure. Faith, Hope, and Char- 
 ity ! ye, indeed, can make a paradise of the humblest 
 home! 
 
 8. There was a darkened chamber, with a wan form toss- 
 ing restlessly uifon the couch. Wealth was there ; but it 
 could not allay pain, or prolong life. Faith, noiseless as a 
 spirit form, glided to the sick one's side. " Though He slay 
 me, yet will I trust in Him," was her language, as she 
 pointed upward. Hope fain would have whispered of length 
 of days, but. she knew this could not be ; so she spoke of 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 239 
 
 life eternal, where there is no more pain. Then Love 
 smoothed the pillow, and bathed the fevered brow, pausing 
 not in her tender ministries through the night-watches. 
 When morning dawned, the spirit of the sick man passed 
 away, though not until Faith, and Hope, and Love had 
 assuaged the anguish of the parting pang. 
 
 9. Weeping mourners gathered around the dead. There 
 were tears, — for "tears well befit earth's partings;" there 
 was sorrow, — for what bitterness is like unto that of the 
 bereaved, when the grave opens to infold the heart's best 
 treasure? Yet Faith, and Hope, and Love were there, 
 assuaging those tears, and mitigating that sorrow. Faith, 
 even while her cheeks were wet, exclaimed, " The Lord 
 gave, and the Lord hath taken awaj ; blessed be the name 
 of the Lord." 
 
 10. Hope's language was, "Not lost, but gone before;" 
 and her eje, having lost none of its briglitness, saw with 
 prophetic vision a reiinion yet to come. Love tenderly 
 wiped away each gathering tear, and gave deeper fervency 
 to the trusting confidence of Faith, and the inspiring strains 
 of Hope. And when the sleeper was committed to the dust, 
 these gentle sisters lingered in the lonely house, and by the 
 darkened hearth. 
 
 11. Such are Faith, Hope, and Charity, — given by 
 God to lighten human sorrow, and bless the creatures He has 
 made. They have each a mission to fulfill, — difierent, it is 
 true, and yet they move in harmony. Faith enables us to 
 submit trustingly to daily trials, viewing a kind Father's 
 hand in each passing event. Hope, w^hen the sky is dark, 
 and the path thorny, points not only to fairer scenes below, 
 but to that brighter world where there is no night and no 
 sorrow. 
 
 12. Love lightens every burden, and reflects upon earth 
 
240 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 a faint radiation of heavenly blessedness, — for the Scriptures 
 assure us that "God is love: and every one that loveth is 
 born of God." The time will come when, the purposes of 
 the wise Creator being accomplished. Faith and Hope will 
 cease. Faith will be lost in sight, Hope in fruition ; but 
 Love will remain, binding the spirits of the redeemed in 
 blissful communion, and uniting them to God the Father, 
 and Christ the Elder Brother. 
 
 13. Faith, Hope, and Charity ! blessed spirits ! May 
 they be inmates of every heart ! May they assist each of 
 us in our peculiar trials, which none can know but our- 
 selves 1 They will come to us if we seek their presence ; 
 but they must be carefully nurtured. Let us cherish them 
 in our bosoms, and they will bless us constantly in our pil- 
 grimage below, and conduct us to the presence of our God. 
 
 ^~ LESSON LXVIII. 
 
 Trans poet' ed, highly delighted. | Churl, sour, surly man. 
 
 Threat' en ing, impending. ? Ee fresh', cool ; make fresh. 
 
 Cor' NAL, crown ; chaplet. \ Lan"guid, dull ; sluggish. 
 
 Myr'. I AD, innumerable. i Drouth' y, dry ; arid. 
 Lus' ciOUS, delicious. Sus tain', uphold ; support. 
 
 Lus' TY, strong ; vigorous. < Un grudg' ing, free-hearted ; liberal. 
 
 War' bling, singing ; caroling. \ ISTig' gard, miser ; stingy person. 
 
 ^^NOT TO MYSELF ALONE," 
 
 8. W. Pate 11 O.K. 
 
 1. *' Not to myself alone ^''^ 
 The little opening flower transported cries, 
 
 " Not to myself alone I bud and bloom; 
 
 With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume, 
 And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 The bee comes sipping, every eventide, 
 
 His dainty fill ; 
 The butterfly within my cup doth hide 
 
 From threatening ill." 
 
 2. " Not to myself alone,'' ^ 
 The circling star with honest pride doth boast, 
 " Not to myself alone I rise and set; 
 I write upon night's coronal of jet 
 His power and skill who formed our myriad host ; 
 A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate, 
 
 I gem the sky, 
 That man might ne'er forget, in every fate. 
 His home on high." 
 
 8. ^^ Not to myself alone, ^■ 
 The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring lium, 
 ^' Not to myself alone, from flower to flower, 
 I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower, 
 And to the hive at evening weary come; 
 For man, for man, the luscious food I pile 
 
 With busy care, 
 Content if he repay my ceaseless toil 
 With scanty share." 
 
 4. " Not to myself alone^ 
 The soaring bird with lusty pinion sings, 
 " Not to myself alone I raise my song ; 
 I cheer the drooping with my warbling tongue. 
 And bear the mourner on my viewless wings ; 
 I bid the hymnless churl my anthem learn. 
 
 And God adore ; 
 I call the worldling from his dross to turn. 
 And sing and soar." 
 11 
 
 241 
 
i^42 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. ^' Not to myself alone ^"^ 
 
 The streamlet whispers on its pebbly way, 
 " Not to myself alone I sparkling glide; 
 t I scatter health and life on every side, 
 
 And strew the fields with herb and floweret gay. 
 I sing unto the common, bleak and bare. 
 
 My gladsome tune ; 
 I sweeten and refresh the languid air 
 In drouthy June." 
 
 6. " Not to myself alone :"^ — 
 
 man, forget not thou, — earth's honored priest, 
 Its tongue, its soul, its life, its pulse, its heart, — 
 In earth's great chorus to sustain thy part ! 
 Chiefest of guests at Love's ungrudging feast, 
 Play not the niggard ; spurn thy native clod. 
 
 And self disown ; 
 Live to thy neighbor ; live unto thy God ; 
 Not to thyself alone ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What things are mentioned, that contribute to our com- 
 fort and happiness ? 2. How does the suffix less, afifect the meaning of tlie 
 words cease, view, hymn, &q. ? 3. What is the meaning of the suffixes Itt 
 and et, in the words streamlet and floweret ? See Sanders & McElligott's 
 Analysis, page 140, Ex. 185 and 187. 
 
 LESSON LXIX. 
 
 NuRs'iNG, nourishing; cherishing. 
 
 Ab hor', detest ; loathe. 
 
 PtE Li' ED, depended. 
 
 Era ter' nal, brotherly. 
 
 Su per' nal, heavenly. 
 
 Com bine', unite ; join together. 
 
 Re bears' al, recital ; repetition. 
 
 Big' OT ry, blind zeal; prejudice. 
 
 Sheathe, put in a sheath. 
 
 U Ni ver' sal, general. 
 
 Cus' TOM, practice; usage. 
 
 Tal' ent, natural ability. 
 
 Af fect' ing, making false show. 
 
 Is' late, separate; detach. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. • 943 
 
 THE WORLD WOULD BE THE BETTER FOR IT 
 
 1. If men cared less for wealth and fame, 
 And less for battle-fields and glory, — 
 If writ in human hearts a name 
 
 Seemed better than in song and story, — 
 If men instead of nursing pride, 
 
 Would learn to hate it and abhor it, — 
 If more relied 
 On love to guide, — 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
 2. If men dealt less in stocks and lands. 
 
 And more in bonds and deeds fraternal, — 
 If Love's work had more willing hands 
 To link this world to the supernal, — 
 If men stored up Love's oil and wine. 
 
 And on bruised, human hearts would pour it,- 
 If '"'' yours''' and ''''mine!'' 
 Would once combine, — 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
 3. If more w^ould act the play of Life, 
 And fewer spoil it in rehearsal, — 
 If Bigotry would sheathe its knife 
 
 Till Good become more universal, — 
 If Custom, gray with ages grown. 
 Had fewer blind men to adore it, — 
 If talent shone 
 In Truth alone, — 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
244 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 4. If men were wise in little things, 
 
 Affecting less in all their dealings, — 
 If hearts had fewer rusted strings 
 
 To isolate their kindly feelings, — 
 If men when Wrong beats down the Right, 
 Would strike together and restore it, — 
 If Right made Might 
 In every fight, — 
 The world would be the better for it. 
 
 LESSON LXX. 
 
 In reading these antithetic sentences, an excellent efifect may be pro- 
 duced by dividing the class equally into two parts, and letting one part read, 
 in concert, the line marked 1st Voice, and the other part, the line marked 
 2d Voice ; or, one pupil may read one line, and the next pupil the other, 
 alternately. 
 
 SELECT PROYEKBS OF SOLOMON* 
 
 1st Voice. A wise son maketh a glad father ; 
 
 2d Voice, hut a fooHsh son is the heaviness of his mother. 
 
 1 V, Treasures of wickedness profit nothing; 
 
 2 V. hut righteousness delivereth from death. 
 
 1 V. He becometh poor, that dealeth with a slack hand ; 
 
 2 F. but the hand of the diligent maketh rich. 
 
 1 V: Blessings are upon the head of the just ; 
 
 2 V. but violence covereth the mouth of the wicked. 
 
 1 F. The memory of the just is blessed ; 
 
 2 F. but the name of the wicked shall rot. 
 
 1 F. The wise in heart will receive commandment ; 
 
 2 F. but a prating fool shall fall. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 945 
 
 1 F". He tbat walketh uprightly, walketh surely ; 
 
 2 V. but he that perverteth his ways, shall be known. 
 
 1 V. Wise men lay up knowledge ; 
 
 2 V. but the mouth pf the wicked is near destruction. 
 
 1 V. He is in the way of life, that keepeth instruction ; 
 
 2 V. but he that refuseth reproof, erreth. 
 
 1 F. It is as sport to a fool to do mischief; 
 
 2 V. but a man of understanding hath wisdom. 
 
 1 V. The fear of the Lord prolongeth days ; 
 
 2 V, but the years of the wicked shall be shortened. 
 
 1 V. The hoj)e of the righteous shall be gladness ; 
 
 2 V. but the expectation of the wicked shall perish. 
 
 1 V, The righteous shall never be removed ; 
 
 2 V. but the wicked shall not inhabit the earth. 
 
 1 V. The mouth of the just bringeth forth wisdom ; 
 
 2 V. but the fro ward tongue shall be cut out. 
 
 1 F. A false balance is an abomination to the Lord ; 
 
 2 F. but a just weight is his delight. 
 
 1 F. Riches profit not in the day of wrath ; 
 
 2 F. but righteousness delivereth from death. 
 
 1 F. The righteousness of the perfect shall direct his way : 
 
 2 F. but the wicked shall fall by his own wickedness. 
 
 1 F. By the blessing of the upright the city is exalted ; 
 
 2 F. but it is overthrown by the mouth of the wicked. 
 
 1 F. Where no counsel is, the people fall ; 
 
 2 F. but in the multitude of counselors there is safety. 
 
 1 F. He that diligently seeketh good, procureth favor ; 
 
 2 F. but he that seeketh mischiei^ it shall come unto him. 
 
 1 V. The righteous man regardeth the life of his beast ; 
 
 2 F. but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel. 
 
246 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 1 V. The lip of truth shall be established forever; 
 
 2 V. but a lying tongue is but for a moment. 
 
 1 V. Lying lips are abomination to the Lord ; 
 
 2 F. but they that deal truly, are His delight. 
 
 1 F. The hand of the diligent shall bear rule ; 
 
 2 F. but the slothful shall be under tribute. 
 
 1 F. A wise son heareth his father's instruction ; 
 
 2 F. but a scorner heareth not rebuke. 
 
 1 F. He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life ; 
 
 2 F. but he that openeth wide his lips, shall have destruction. 
 
 1. F. A scorner seeketh wisdom, and findeth it not; 
 
 2. F. but knowledge is easy unto him that understandeth. 
 
 1 F. There is a way which seemeth right unto a man *, 
 
 2 F. but the end thereof are the ways of death. 
 
 1 F. A wise man feareth, and departeth from evil ; 
 
 2 F. but the fool rageth, and is confident. 
 
 1 F. The poor is hated even of his neighbor ; 
 
 2 F. but the rich hath many friends. 
 
 1 F. He that oppresseth the poor, reproacheth his Maker ; 
 
 2 F. but he that honoreth Him, hath mercy on the poor. 
 
 1 F. He that is slow to wrath, is of great understanding ; 
 
 2 F. but he that is hasty in spirit, exalteth folly. 
 
 1^ F. A soft answer turneth away wrath ; 
 2 F. but grievous words stir up anger: 
 
 1 F. He that walketh with wise men, shall be wise ; 
 
 2 F. but a companion of fools shall be destroyed. 
 
 1 F. Counsel in the heart of man is like deep water; 
 
 2 F. but a man of understanding will draw it out. 
 
 1 F. The wicked is driven away in his wickedness; 
 
 2 F. but the righteous hath hope in his death. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 247 
 
 LESSON LXXI. 
 
 IM PRES' SIGN, idea; notion. I Reg' is tl;r, record; note down. 
 
 At trac' tion$, allureraunts. j Sua' ges tive, giving signs. 
 
 Sa ti' e ty, excessive fuJlaess. I Dec la ra' tion, announcement. 
 
 Sat' ed, glutted ; satiated. ? Ex trem' i tie$, ends. 
 
 Pam' per ED, over-fed. \ Dra' per y, hangings ; decorations. 
 
 Sue' cu LENT, full of sap; juicj. I En chant' ment, charms; fascination. 
 Um bra' geous, shady. j Fret' ted, furnished with frets, or 
 
 Gor' geous, showy ; brilliant. \ ornamental raised work. 
 
 Drear' i ness, gloominess. ? Dec o ra' tion$, adornments. 
 
 * Ar' a besques, is a word, denoting ornaments after the Arabian man- 
 ner, often intricate and fantastic, from the intermingling of foliage, fruits, &C., 
 with other objects real or imaginary. 
 
 WINTER BEAUTY* 
 
 Henry Ward Beechek. 
 
 1. It is the impression of many, that only in summer, 
 including spring and autumn, of course, is the country 
 desirable as a residence. The country in summer, and the 
 city for the winter. It is true, that the winter gives attrac- 
 tions to the city, in endless meetings, lectures, concerts, and 
 indoor amusements ; but it is not true that the country loses 
 all interest when the leaves are shed and the grass is gone. 
 On the contrary, to one who has learned how to use his 
 senses and his sensibilities, there are attractions in the winter 
 of a peculiar kind, and pleasures which can be reaped only 
 then. 
 
 2. It appears to me, that winter comes in to relieve the 
 year of satiety. The mind grows sated with greenness. 
 After eight or nine months of luxuriant growths, the eye 
 grows accustomed to vegetation. To be sure, we never are 
 less pleased with the wide prospect; with forms of noble 
 trees, with towns and meadows, and with the whole aspect 
 of nature. But it is the pleasure of one pampered. We 
 lose the keen edge of hunger. The eye enjoys, without the 
 
248 SANDJEKS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 relish of newness. We expect to enjoy. Every thing loses 
 surprise. 
 
 3. Of course, the sky is blue, the grass succulent, the 
 fields green, the trees umbrageous, the clouds silent and 
 mysterious. They were so yesterday, they are so to-day, 
 they will be so to-morrow, next week, next month. In 
 short, the mind does not . cease to feel the charm of endless 
 growths : but needs variety, change of diet, less of perpetual 
 feasting, and something of the blessings of a fast. This 
 winter gives. It says to us : You have had too much. You 
 are luxurious and dainty. You need relief and change of 
 diet. 
 
 4. The cold blue of the sky, the cold gray of rocks, the 
 sober warmth of browns and russets, take the place of more 
 gorgeous colors. If, now, one will accept this change in the 
 tone of nature, after a- time a new and relishful pleasure 
 arises. The month formed by the last fortnight of Novem- 
 ber and the first two weeks of December, is, to me, the sad- 
 dest of the year. It most nearly produces the sense of 
 desolateness and dreariness of any portion of the year. 
 
 5. From the hour that the summer begins to shorten its 
 days, and register the increasing change along the horizon, 
 over which the sun sets, farther and farther toward the 
 south, we have a genial and gentle sadness. But sadness 
 belongs to all very deep joys. It is almost as needful to the 
 perfectness of joy, as shadows in landscapes are to the charm 
 of the picture. Then, too, comes the fading«out of flowers, 
 — each variety in its turn, saying, ' ' Farewell till next 
 summer." 
 
 6. Scarcely less suggestive of departing summer are the 
 new-comers, the late summer golden-rod, the asters, and all 
 autumnal flowers. Long experience teaches us' that these 
 are the latest blossoms that fall from the sun's lap, and next 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 249 
 
 to them is snow. By association we already see white in the 
 yellow and blue. Then, too, birds are thinking of other 
 things. No more nests, no more young, no more songs, — 
 except signal-notes and rallying-calls ; for they are evidently 
 warned, and go about their little remaining daily business, as 
 persons who expect every hour to depart to a distant land. 
 
 7. It is scarcely ever that we see the birds go. They are 
 here to-day, and gone to-morrow. They disappear without 
 observation. The fields are empty and silent. It s6ems as 
 if the winds had blown them away with the leaves. The 
 first sight of northern waterfowl, far up in the air, retreating 
 from Labrador and the short, Arctic summer, is always to us 
 like the declaration : ' ' Summer is gone ; winter is behind 
 us ; it will soon be upon you." At last come the late days 
 of November. All is gone, — frosts reap and glean more 
 sharply every night. 
 
 8. A few weeks bring earnest winter. Then begin to 
 dawn other delights. The bracing air, the clean snow-paths, 
 the sled and sleigh, the revelation of forms that all summer 
 were grass-hidden ; the sharp-outlined hills lying clear upon 
 the sky; the exquisite tracery of trees. — especially of all 
 such trees as that dendral child of God, the elm, whose 
 branches are carried out into an endless complexity of fine 
 lines of spray, and which stands up in winter, showing in its 
 whole anatomy, that all its summer shade was founded upon 
 the most substantial reality. 
 
 9. In winter, too, particularly in the latter periods of it, 
 the extremities of shrubs and branches begin to take on 
 ruddy hues, or purplish browns, and the eye knows that 
 these are the first faint blushes of coming summer. Now, 
 too, we find how beautiful are the mosses in the woods ; and 
 under them we find solitary green leaves, that have laughed 
 all winter because they had outwitted the frost. 
 
 11* 
 
250 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 10. Wherever flowing springs gush from sheltered spots 
 looking south, one will find manj green edges, young grass, 
 and some few tougher leaves. Now, too, in still days, the 
 crow sings heavily through the air, cawing with a pleasing 
 harshness. For dieting has performed its work. Your 
 appetite is eager. A little now pleases you more than 
 abundance did in August. Every tiny leaf is to you like a 
 cedar of Lebanon. 
 
 11. All these things are unknown to dwellers in cities. 
 It is nothing to them that a robin appeared for the first time 
 yesterday morning, or that a blue-bird sang over against the 
 house. Some new prima-donna^ exhausts their admiration. 
 They are yet studying laces, and do not care for the fringe 
 of swamps, for the first catkins of the willow. They are still 
 coveting the stores of precious stones at the jewelers, and do 
 not care for my ruby buds, and red dogwood, and scarlet 
 winter -berries, and ground pine, and partridge-berry leaves. 
 
 12. There is one sight of the country, at about this time 
 of the year — the first of March — that few have seen, or else 
 they have passed it by as if it were not worthy of record. 
 I mean the drapery of rocks in gorges, or along precipitous 
 sides of hills or mountains. The seams of rocks are the out- 
 lets of springs. The water, trickling through, is seized by 
 the frost, and held fast in white enchantment. Every day 
 adds to the length of the ice drapery ; and, as the surface is 
 overlaid by new issuings, it is furred and fretted with silver- 
 white chasings, the most exquisite. 
 
 13. Thus, one may find a succession, in a single gorge, of 
 extraordinary ice-curtains, and pendant draperies, of varying 
 lengths, of every fantastic form, of colors varying by thick- 
 ness, or by the tinge of earth or rock shining through them. 
 
 * The first female singer in an opera. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 251 
 
 In mj boyhood, I used to wander along these fairy halls, 
 imagining them to be now altars in long, white draperies ; 
 now,, grand cathedral pillars of white marble ; then, long 
 tapestries chased in white, with arabesques^ and crinkled 
 vines and leaves. 
 
 14. Sometimes they seemed like gigantic bridal decora- 
 tions, or like the robes of beings vast and high, hung in 
 their wardrobes while they slept. But, whatever fane}' 
 interpreted them, or whether they were looked upon with 
 two good, sober, literal eyes, they were, and still are, among 
 the most delightful of winter exhibitions, to those who are 
 wise enough to search out the hidden beauty of winter in 
 the country. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What are some of the attractions of winter in the city ? 
 2. What are some of the delights of winter in the country ? 3. What is said 
 of the drapery of rocks ? 4. What did the writer imagine them to be, in 
 boyhood? 
 
 LESSON LXXII. 
 
 Un sul' LI ET>, pure ; clear. "> In ter sect' ing, meeting and cross- 
 
 Phe nom' e NGN, appearance. j Pen' e tra ting, piercing. [ing. 
 
 Trans par' en cy, clearness. j E' ther, thin or refined air. 
 
 As ton' ish ing, amazing, [ing out. Con geal' ed, frozen. 
 
 Ram I Fi ca' tion, branch, or branch- ^ Burn' ish ing, brightening. 
 
 In de scrib' a bly, beyond descrip- 1 En gen' der ed, produced. 
 
 Ma jes' tic, grand. [tion. ^ Em' blem, symbol. 
 
 Oc ca' sign al, occurring at times, j Con tem pla' tign, meditation. 
 
 Im press' ive, powerful ; effective, 'i El e va' tign, loftiness. 
 
 FROSTED TREES. 
 
 1. "Ere yet the clouds let fall the treasured snow, 
 Or winds begun their hazy skies to blow, 
 At evening, a keen eastern breeze arose, 
 And the descending rain unsullied froze. 
 
252 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, 
 
 The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view 
 
 The face of Nature in a rich disguise, 
 
 And brightened every object to my eyes. 
 
 For every shrub, and every blade of grass, 
 
 And every pointed thorn, seemed wrought in glass." 
 
 2. Since Sunday, Feb. 1st, 1852, we have had presented 
 to our view, the beautiful phenomenon of Frosted Trees, 
 the most astonishing and brilliant that I ever remember to 
 have noticed. The previous storm and mist had thickly- 
 covered every exposed object, — the loftiest trees, the mi- 
 nutest blade, hill and dale, with the icy garment. This 
 transparency was most perfect, dejQning every form and 
 ramification into exact models of the entire body, branch, 
 or limb. 
 
 3. Dwellings and barns were incrusted by the chilling 
 vapor. It hung upon the manes of the cattle, and decorated, 
 wherever seen, the humble grass, which appeared bending, 
 like threads of crystal. The small bushes were indescrib- 
 ably beautiful, and seemed as if chiseled out of the whitest 
 marble. As far as the eye could extend, over brooks, 
 fields, and woods, the same striking and singular sight was 
 universal. 
 
 4. I could not remain contented in the house, and toward 
 sunset, hastened away, where the view might be free and 
 ^uninterrupted. Here, the scene, if possible, was more im- 
 pressive and interesting. There was scarcely a breath of 
 air, and the general silence was only interrupted by the 
 occasional flight of some winter bird, which alighting on a 
 limb, would shake down a thousand feathery showers, until 
 he seemed frightened at the unusual sound. The forest trees 
 made a truly majestic appearance, with their naked, giant 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 253 
 
 arms and mossy branches intersecting each other, and fast 
 bound by the frozen barriers. 
 
 5. I shall not attempt to describe the brilliancy of the un- 
 dergrowth and dwarf trees, upon whose limbs hung a delicate 
 frosting, like unwrought silver, nor the crimson glow of the 
 holly-berries through their transparent and icy covering, — 
 all, all was a dazzling and splendid winter array, 
 
 " That buries wide the works of man." 
 
 It brought to my mind some of the Eastern fairy tales, and 
 their gardens ornamented with shrubs and plants of spark- 
 ling crystals. 
 
 6. The exposed sides of the rocks and fences were com- 
 pletely iced over, not the smallest particle escaping the pen- 
 etrating and congealed ether. It was truly astonishing to 
 examine its thickness. On some twigs, not larger than a 
 wheat straw, the ice measured half an inch through. One 
 would scarcely imagine what an immense weight of the frozen 
 mass a tree will sustain, before it breaks under the unusual 
 load. Many branches were bent so low that I could reach 
 them with my hands ; and, shaking off their frosted barks, 
 they would instantly spring far above my reach. Every 
 now and then I was startled by the rattling noise of these 
 falling icicles from some neighboring tree or grove. 
 
 7. Just when the sun went down, there was not a single 
 cloud to be seen in the horizon, and his cold, bright, setting 
 rays brought out, on every hand, frozen gems, diamonds, 
 rubies, and sapphires, in every possible prismatic beauty, 
 wherever his departing beams fell. Presently the moon 
 bathed the whitened earth, and every congealed drop, in her 
 soft light, burnishing, with dazzling icy brilliancy, trees, 
 dwellings, and streams. I am an ardent lover of Nature 
 and her scenery, and have often, delighted, gazed upon the 
 
254 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Queen of Night; but never did I behold such a brilliant 
 moonlight night as this. 
 
 8. Who could help bringing to mind the sublimities of 
 Job and of David, — "The hoary frost of heaven, who hath 
 engendered it? The waters are hid, as with a stone, and the 
 face of the deep is frozen." — " By the breath of the Mighty 
 God, ice is produced, and the waters which were spread on 
 all sides, are held in chains." The Psalmist says, "He 
 giveth the snow, like wool, He scattereth the hoar-frost like 
 ashes. Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." — Well 
 may poets look to the falling sno^Pifc-flake for their images of 
 purity and innocence, ere it receives the stain of earth. I 
 know of no fitter emblem. 
 
 9. Such a winter's night ! and the skies ! the skies ! So 
 resplendent in brightness are the hosts of heaven at this 
 moment, that they should be contemplated by every lover 
 and student of the works of God. Their numbers who can 
 count, — their twinkling beauty who can describe, as onward 
 they roll in the deep blue of midnight ? In their contem- 
 plation are inspired " thoughts that wander through eternity," 
 with an elevation of feeling, as if we were separated from the 
 toils and tumults of earth, and exalted into a higher state of 
 being than that in which we toiled through the day! These 
 heavens tell us of a Wisdom and Power we can not search 
 or estimate. There we seem to stand more immediately in 
 the vailed presence of the Infinite Majesty, who "laid the 
 foundations of the earth, when the morning stars sang 
 together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy." 
 
 Questions. — 1. Describe the appearance of frosted trees. 2. What is 
 said of the appearance of shrubs, bushes, &c. ? 3. What, of the weight sus- 
 tained by a single tree ? 4. What was the appearance at sunset ? 5. What 
 passages of Scripture did the scene bring to mind ? 6. Of what is the snow- 
 flake an emblem? 1. What is said of the skies? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 265 
 
 LESSON LXXIII. 
 
 Splen' dor, brightness ; glory. ( LoNa' ed, earnestly desired. 
 
 E ter' nal ly, everlastingly. ? Re po$e', rest; quietude. 
 Way'-wea ry, tired ; fatigued. Ran' som ed, redeemed. 
 
 Gaze, eager look. < Pal' ace, mansion ; abode. 
 
 Ev' ER GREEN, always green. \ Un ceas' iNa ly, constantly. 
 
 THE MOUNTAINS OF LIFE* 
 
 James G. Clark. 
 
 1. There's a land far away, 'mid the stars, we are told, 
 
 Where they know not the sorrows of time, — 
 Where the pure waters wander through valleys of gold. 
 
 And life is a treasure suhlime ; 
 'Tis the land of our God, 'tis the home of the soul, 
 Where the ages of splendor eternally roll, — 
 Where the way-weary traveler reaches his goal, 
 
 On the evergreen Mountains of Life. 
 
 2. Our gaze can not soar to that beautiful land, 
 
 But our visions have told of its bliss ; 
 And our souls by the gale from its gardens are fanned, 
 
 When we faint in the desert of this ; 
 And we sometimes have longed for its holy repose. 
 When our spirits were torn with temptations and woes, 
 And we've drank from the tide of the river that flows 
 
 From the evergreen Mountains of Life. 
 
 3. Oh ! the stars never tread the blue heavens at night. 
 
 But we think where the ransomed have trod ; 
 And the day never smiles from his palace of light, 
 But we feel the bright smile of our God. 
 
256 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 We are traveling homeward, through changes and gloom, 
 To a kingdom where pleasures unceasingly bloom, 
 And our guide is the glory that shines through the tomb, 
 From the evergreen Mountains of Life. 
 
 Questions.—!. What is said of that land far away ? 2. How do we 
 know there is such a land ? 3. Of what do the stars remind us? 
 
 LESSON LXXIV. 
 
 Im ag' in a ry, not real. j In vi$' i ble, unseen. 
 
 An tic' I PATE, take beforehand. \ En chain', bind ; fasten. 
 
 Pre fer' red, chosen. | Fore bod' ing, dread of evil. 
 
 Oc cur' red, happened. i In yen' tion, contrivance. 
 
 Sus tain', support ; uphold. | Con fer' red, bestowed. 
 
 Permit', allow. \ Ap pre hen' sign, dread; fear. 
 
 IMAGINARY EVILS* 
 
 Eliza Cook. 
 
 1. Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow ; 
 
 Leave things of the future to fate ; 
 What's the use to anticipate sorrow ? 
 
 Life's troubles come never too late. 
 If to hope overmuch be an error, 
 
 'Tis one the wise have preferred; 
 And how often have hearts been in terror 
 
 Of evils that never occurred ! 
 
 2. Have faith, and thy faith shall sustain thee, 
 
 Permit not suspicion and care 
 With invisible bonds to enchain thee, 
 But bear what God gives thee to bear. 
 
 J 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 25T 
 
 By His Spirit supported and gladdened 
 
 Be ne'er by forebodings deterred ; 
 But think how oft hearts have been saddened 
 
 By fears of what never occurred 1 
 
 3. Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow ; 
 
 Short and dark as our life may appear, 
 We may make it still darker by sorrow, 
 
 Still shorter by folly and fear ; 
 Half cur troubles are half our invention, 
 
 And often from blessing conferred, 
 Have we sunk in the wild apprehension 
 
 Of evils that never occurred ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What is said of imaginary evils? 2. How may we be 
 supported under trials ? 3. What tends to shorten life ? 4. Whence pro- 
 ceed half our troubles ? 5. What rule for doublmg the r and d in such 
 words as occurred, saddened, &c. ? See Sanders' New Speller, page 168, 
 Rule IIo 
 
 LESSON LXXV. 
 
 Waste, desolate region. ( Ray, make bright ; adorn. 
 
 Pro ceed', come forth. \ Ex pand', swell ; dilate. . 
 
 Cha$m, gap ; opening. \ Fa' ther land, native land. 
 
 CoiL$, folds J convolutions. > Guer' don, reward ; recompense, 
 
 Man' I fest, plain; evident. \ Prop' per, offer; tender. 
 
 Pre $erv' er, protector. \ Pit' e ous, mournful ; sorrowful. 
 
 Al le' gi ance, duty ; loyalty. ^ Im pet' u ous ly, furiously. 
 
 At tract'j (at, to; tract, draw) draw to; allure. 
 
 In VEST', (in, to ; vest, clothe ;) clothe in or with ; inclose ; surround. 
 
 Pro test', (pro, lefore ; test, witness ;) witness before ; openly declare. 
 
 1 py' thon is the name of a large serpent, fabled to have been slain by 
 the god Apollo, 
 
258 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 SIR WALTER AND THE LION* 
 
 A. Walchner. 
 
 1. Sir Walter of Thurn, over the Syrian waste, 
 
 Rides awaj with a flowing rein ; 
 But he hears a groan that checks his haste, 
 As if death were in the strain. 
 
 He spurs his steed 
 
 "Whence the sounds proceed ; 
 And there, from a rocky chasm, arise 
 Fierce cries of pain, that assail the skies ; 
 
 And his horse uprears 
 
 In excess of fears, 
 As the glance of a lion attracts his eyes. 
 
 2. Fierce struggling there in the monster folds 
 
 Of a serpent that round him twines ; 
 Sir Walter a moment the scene beholds, 
 Then to save the beast inclines. 
 
 His good sword stout 
 
 From its sheath leaps out, 
 When down it falls on the Python's^ crest. 
 And cleaves the coils that the lion invest ; 
 
 And the noble beast, 
 
 From its thrall released. 
 Shows grateful joy most manifest. 
 
 8. He shakes his mane, and bends his form. 
 And licks his preserver's hand, 
 As if he yields allegiance warm 
 To his supreme command; 
 
 Like the faithful hound 
 To be constant found, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 259 
 
 And follow his steps forevermore ; 
 And thus he follows, on sea and shore, 
 
 In the battle's tide. 
 
 He stands bj his side, 
 Or with him rests when the strife is o'er. 
 
 4. In Palestine Sir Walter is known, — 
 
 Long years attest his fame ; 
 And many brave deeds he there hath done, 
 That ray with glory his name ; 
 
 But his heart doth expand 
 
 For the fatherland, 
 And he fain its pleasant scenes would see, 
 With his friendly lion for company ; 
 
 But with fearful breast, 
 
 The sailors protest. 
 As they glanced at the beast and his majesty. 
 
 5. Rich guerdon he proffers, and golden store ; 
 
 But though the prize were great. 
 The sailors hurry away from the shore 
 As if from the doom of fate. 
 
 The poor beast moans 
 
 In piteous tones, 
 Then darts impetuously o'er the sands, — 
 Then looks to the ship, and mournfully stands. 
 Then plunges into the gloomy wave, 
 The perils of the depths to brave. 
 Already he nears the flying bark, 
 Already his roar of grief they hark ; 
 But his strength is spent, and the sea is strong. 
 And he may not the fearful struggle prolong. 
 
260 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SEllXES. 
 
 His dying glances are fondly cast 
 
 Along the track where the loved one passed; 
 
 Then sinks to his grave 
 
 Beneath the wave, 
 And the night and the ocean behold him the last. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What did Sir Walter discover as he was riding over the 
 Syrian waste ? 2. What did he do ? 3. What did the lion do, after being 
 released ? 4. Did the sailors allow the lion to go on board the ship ? 5. 
 What did the lion then do ? 6. What became of him ? 
 
 LESSON LXXVI. 
 
 Yal' iant, strong ; courageous. 
 In cli na' tion, desire ; tendency. 
 Ee plen' ish ED, filled up. 
 Dis SEv' ER, part ; sunder. 
 Shiv' er, dash to pieces. 
 Ec stat''io, rapturous. 
 Con clu' sion, result. 
 Con cep' tion, thought ; idea. 
 
 Def' er ence, respect. 
 
 Phy$' 10 al, material 
 
 Ar' rant, mere ; vile. 
 
 Time'-ban di ED, time-lost. 
 
 De vel' op ED, brought out. 
 
 Con stel la' tion$, clusters of stars. 
 
 De sign' ed, planned. 
 
 Com bin' ed, united. 
 Un inter rupt' ed, (un, not; inter, in between; rupted, broken;) not 
 broken in between ; unbroken. 
 
 It is sometimes desirable to have each member of the class read a piece 
 compiete in itself. To answer this end, the following collection of brief, 
 though beautiful productions, have been brought together all under one 
 head. 
 
 CHOICE EXTRACTS. 
 
 WHAT EEALLT BENEFITS US. 
 
 It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us 
 rich. It is not what we eat, but what we digest, that makes 
 us strong. It is not what we read, but what we remember, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 261 
 
 that makes us learned. It is not what we intend, but what 
 we do, that makes us useful. It is not a few faint wishes, 
 but a life-long struggle, that makes us valiant. 
 
 II. 
 GOD'S LOYE 
 
 There's not a flower that decks the vale, 
 
 There's not a beam that lights the mountain, 
 There's not a shrub that scents the gale, 
 
 There's not a wind that stirs the fountain, 
 There's not a hue that paints the rose. 
 
 There's not a leaf around us lying. 
 But in its use or beauty shows 
 
 God's love to us, and love undying ! 
 
 III. 
 LIFE-WORK. 
 To acquire a thorough knowledge of our own hearts and 
 characters,, to restrain every irregular inclination, to subdue 
 every rebellious passion, to purify the motives of our con- 
 duct, to form ourselves to that temperance which no pleasure 
 can seduce, to that meekness which no provocation can ruffle, 
 to that patience which no affliction can overwhelm, and that 
 integrity which no interest can shake; this is the task 
 lohich is assigned to tis, — a task which can not be per- 
 formed without the utmost diligence and care. 
 
 IV. 
 
 HUMILITY. 
 
 The brightest stars are burning suns ; 
 The deepest water stillest runs ; 
 The laden bee the lowest flies ; 
 The richest mine the deepest lies ; 
 
262 SANDERS' UNION SERIJBS. 
 
 The stalk that's most replenished, 
 Doth bow the most its modest head. 
 Thus, deep Humility we find 
 The mark of every master-mind ; 
 The highest-gifted lowliest bends, 
 And merit meekest condescends. 
 And shuns the fame that fools adore, — 
 That puff that bids a feather soar. 
 
 V. 
 
 BENEFITS OF ADYEESITY. 
 
 A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner. Neither do 
 uninterrupted prosperity and success qualify man for useful- 
 ness or happiness. The storms of adversity, like the storms 
 of the ocean, rouse the faculties and excite the invention, 
 prudence, skill, and fortitude of the voyager. 
 
 VI. 
 
 OUR MOUNTAIN HOMES. 
 
 Mrs. S. R. A. Babnm. 
 
 Why turn we to our mountain, homes 
 
 With more than filial feeling ? 
 'Tis here that Freedom's altars rise, 
 
 And Freedom's sons are kneeling ' 
 Why sigh we not for softer climes ? 
 
 Why cling to that which bore us ? 
 ' Tis here we tread on Freedom's soil^ 
 
 With Freedom'' s sunshine o'er us I 
 
 VII. 
 
 MAKE A BEGINNINa. 
 
 If you do not begin, you will never come to the end. The 
 first weed pulled up in the garden, the first seed set in the 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 263 
 
 ground, the first dollar put in the savings-bank, and the first 
 mile traveled on a journey, are all important things ; they 
 make a beginning^ and thereby give a hope, a promise, a' 
 pledge, an assurance that you are in earnest in what you 
 have undertaken. How many a poor, idle, erring, hesi- 
 tating outcast is now creeping his way through the world, 
 who might have held up his head and prospered, if, instead 
 of putting ofi" his resolutions of amendment and industry, he 
 had only made a beginning ! 
 
 • VIII. 
 
 INFLUENCE. 
 
 George W, BiXiJGAT. 
 
 1. Drop follows drop, and swells 
 
 With rain the sweeping river; 
 Word follows word, and tells 
 A truth that lives forever. 
 
 2. Flake follows flake, like sprites 
 
 Whose wings the winds dissever ; 
 Thought follows thought, and lights 
 The realm of mind forever. 
 
 3. Beam follows beam to cheer, 
 
 The cloud a bolt to shiver ; 
 Throb follows throb, and fear 
 Gives place to joy forever. 
 
 4. The drop, the flake, the beam, 
 
 Teach us a lesson ever ; 
 The word, the thought, the dream, 
 Impress the soul forever. 
 
264 SANDERS' UNION SEKIiiS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 ' PLEASURE IN ACQUIRINa KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Cakoline F. Orne. 
 
 1. Note the ecstatic joj of the student, who has labored 
 long over a problem or proposition, but finally comes to a 
 logical conclusion ; who has struggled with the misty dark- 
 ness of his own mind, for a clear view of some difficult sub- 
 ject, until the clouds, one after another, have dispersed, and 
 he beholds, with his mental vision, in bright and glorious 
 light, the conception for which he labored. Think you he 
 would exchange his joys for the pleasures of sense' ? It is 
 of a higher and more ennobling character, and not to be bar- 
 tered for paltry wealth. 
 
 2. What dignity and self-respect invest the man of 
 thought ! His very looks bespeak of mind. He is ap- 
 proached with deference, as a being of higher order in the 
 scale of intelligence, — as one who has a right to command 
 and be obeyed. For what moves mind, but mind? A 
 strong intellect, coming in contact with one of less energy, 
 will as naturally move it, as superior physical strength will 
 overcome the weaker,. 
 
 WHAT IS FAME? 
 
 What is glory' ? What is fame'? 
 The echo of a long-lost name' ; 
 A breath', an idle hour's brief talk'; 
 The shadow of an arrant naught' ; 
 A flower that blossoms for a day^, 
 
 Dying next morrow' ; 
 A stream that hurries on its way. 
 
 Singing of sorrow' ; 
 
 Motherwell. 
 
MurkibER FOUR. 265 
 
 A fortune that to lose were gain^ ; 
 A word of praise perchance of blame^ ; 
 The wreck of a time-bandied name\ — 
 j4y\ this is glory"" I — this is fame" ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 CULTIVATED INTELLECT. 
 
 Ah ! well do we all know the worth of intelligence, the 
 power of knowledge, and the beauty and glory of wisdom. 
 It is educated manhood that wakes up the sleeping soil, 
 covers the earth with good, that gathers in the golden har- 
 vest, that clothes the naked, that feeds the hungry. It is 
 the cultivated mind that applies the strength of the ox and 
 the fleetness of the horse ; that bridges the river, that turns 
 to use the flying winds, that makes the lightning its swift 
 messenger, that makes beautiful palaces of dull clay, that 
 rouses the dead ore to active life, that covers the sea with 
 ships, and the land with mighty engines of wealth. It is 
 the developed intellect that flies through the upper air, that 
 mingles with the stars, that follows the moon in her course, 
 that overtakes the constellations in their orbits, that weighs 
 the sun, that measures the distance to the polar star. It is 
 the enlightened soul that worships God. 
 
 XII. 
 
 aOD'S WORKS ATTEST HIS GREATNESS. 
 
 Mks. Opib. 
 
 1. There's not a leaf within the bower ; 
 There's not a bird upon the tree ; 
 There's not a dew-drop on the flower ; 
 But bears the impress, Lord, of Thee. 
 
 4 U 
 
266 SANDERS' UIVION SERIES. 
 
 2. Thj hand the varied leaf designed, 
 
 And gave the bird its thrilling tone ; 
 Thy power the dewdrop's tints combined, 
 Till like the diamond's blaze thej shone. 
 
 8. Yes, dewdropSj leaves, and buds, and all 
 The smallest, like the greatest things, — 
 The sea's vast space, the earth's wide ball, 
 Alike proclaim Thee King of kings. 
 
 4. But man alone to bounteous Heaven, 
 
 Thanksgiving's conscious strains can raise ; 
 To favored man alone 'tis given 
 
 To join the angelic choir in praise 1 
 
 LESSON LXXVII. 
 
 Mo not' NOUS, dull ; uniform. ( Frig' tign, rubbing together. 
 Har poon', barbed spear. ] Coil$, winds into a ring. 
 
 Ag' I TA TED, disturbed. j Prg jegt' ed, thrown out or forward. 
 
 Re ver' BERATES, rebounds ; reechoes.j Vo cif'er a ted, shouted. 
 ■WRiTHE$, twists, or turns in agony, j In fu' ri a ted, enraged. 
 Con tor' tion$, twistings j writhings. j Un re lent' ing, unfeeling. 
 Ye log' I TY, swiftness. i Con vul' sion$, violent spasms. 
 
 Ig nites', takes fire. ] Ren coun' ter, fight ; conflict. 
 
 CAPTURE OF THE WHALE* 
 
 1. Let the reader suppose himself on the deck of a South- 
 seaman, cruising in the North Pacific ocean. He may be 
 musing over some past event, the ship may be sailing gently 
 along over the smooth ocean, every thing around solemnly 
 still, with the sun pouring its intense rays with dazzling 
 
NUMBER FOUR 267 
 
 brightness. Suddenly the monotonous quietude is broken 
 by an animated voice from the masthead, exclaiming, 
 " There he spouts /" 
 
 2. The captain starts on deck in an instant, and inquires 
 '' Whei^e aicay ?" but, perhaps, the next moment every one 
 aloft and on deck, can perceive an enormous whale lying 
 about a quarter of a mile from the ship, on the surface of 
 the sea, having just come up to breathe,— his large '^ Lump" 
 projecting three feet out of the water. At the end of every 
 ten seconds, the spout is seen rushing from the fore part of 
 his enormous head, followed by the cry of every one on 
 board, who join in the chorus of '■''There again T^ keeping 
 time with the duration of the spout. 
 
 3. But, while they have been looking, a few seconds have 
 expired. They rush into the boats, which are directly low- 
 ered to receive them ; and, in two minutes from the time of 
 first observing the whale, three or four boats are down, and 
 are darting through the water with their utmost speed 
 toward their intended victim, perhaps accompanied with a 
 song from the headsman, who urges the quick and powerful 
 plying of the oar, with the common whaling chant of 
 
 " Away, my boys, away, my boys, 'tis time for us to go." 
 
 4. But, while they are rushing along, the whale is breath- 
 ing; they have yet, perhaps, some distance to pull before 
 they can get a chance of striking him with the harpoon. 
 His " spoutings are nearly out," he is about to descend, or 
 he hears the boats approaching. The few sailors left on 
 board, and who are anxiously watching the whale and the 
 gradual approach of the boats, exclaim, " ^/t, he is going 
 dovm .'" Yet he spouts again, but slowly , the water is seen 
 agitated around him ; the spectators on board with breathless 
 anxiety think they perceive him rising m preparation for 
 
258 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 his descent. ^^He will be lostP'' they exclaim; for the boats 
 are not jet near enough to strike him, and the men are still 
 bending their oars in each boat with all their strength, to 
 claim the honor of the first blow with the harpoon. 
 
 5. The bow- boat has the advantage of being the nearest 
 to the whale ; the others, for fear of disturbing the uncon- 
 scious monster, are now ordered to drop astern. One more 
 spout is seen slowly curling forth, — it is his last; but the 
 boat shoots rapidly alongside of the gigantic creature. 
 ^^ Peak your oars P^ exclaims the mate, and directly they 
 flourish in the air ; the glistening harpoon is seen above the 
 head of the harpooner. In an instant it is darted with un- 
 erring force and aim, and is buried deeply in the side of the 
 huge animal. It is '^ socket up ]" that is, it is buried in his 
 flesh up to the socket which admits the handle or pole of the 
 harpoon. 
 
 6. A cheer from those in the boats, and from the seamen 
 on board, reverberates along the still deep at the same mo- 
 ment. The sea, which a moment before was unruffled, now 
 becomes lashed into foam by the immense strength of the 
 wounded whale, which, with his vast tail, strikes in all direc- 
 tions at his enemies. Now his enormous head rises high into 
 the air, then his flukes are seen lashing everywhere, his huge 
 body writhes in violent contortions from the agony the har- 
 poon has inflicted. The water all around him is a mass of 
 foam, and the sounds of the blows from his tail on the sur- 
 face of the sea, can be heard for miles ! 
 
 7. '^ Steim alir cries the headsman; but the whale sud- 
 denly disappears ; he has "sounded;" the line is running 
 through the groove at the head of the boat, with lightening- 
 like velocity ; it smokes ; it ignites from the heat produced 
 by the friction ; but the headsman, cool and collected, pours 
 water upon it as it passes. But an oar is now held up in 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 269 
 
 their boat ; it signifies that their line is rapidly running out ; 
 two hundred fathoms are nearly exhausted; up flies one of 
 the other boats, and " bends on" another line, just in time 
 to save that which was nearly lost. 
 
 8. But still the monster descends ; he is seeking to rid 
 himself of his enemies by descending deeply into the dark 
 and unknown depths of the vast ocean. Two more lines are 
 exhausted, — he is six hundred fathoms deep! ^^ Stand 
 ready to bend onP'' cries the mate to the fourth boat; (for 
 sometimes they take the whole four lines away with them, — 
 eight hundred fathoms I!) but, it is not required, he is 
 rising. " Haul ifi the slack T^ observes the headsman, 
 while the boat-steerer coils it again carefully into the tubs as 
 it is drawn up. 
 
 9. The whale is now seen approaching the surface ; the 
 gurgling and bubbling water which rises, proclaims that he 
 is near ; his nose starts from the sea ; the rushing spout is 
 projected high and suddenly, from his agitation. The slack 
 of the line is now coiled in the tubs, and those in the fast 
 boat, haul themselves gently toward the whale. The boat- 
 steerer places the headsman close to the fin of the trembling 
 animal, who immediately buries his long lance in the vitals 
 of the leviathan, while, at the same moment, those in one of 
 the other boats, dart another harpoon into his opposite side. 
 Then, '' Stern allP'' is again vociferated, and the boats shoot 
 rapidly away from the danger. 
 
 10. Mad with the agony which he endures from these 
 fresh attacks, the infuriated '' sea monster" rolls over and 
 over, and coils an amazing length of line around him. He 
 rears his enormous head, and, with wide-expanded jaws, 
 snaps at every thmg around him. He rushes at the boats 
 with his head, — they are propelled before him with vast 
 swiftness, and sometimes utterly destroyed. 
 
270 SANDERS' UNXON SERIES. 
 
 11. He is lanced again, — and his pain appears more 
 than he can bear. He throws himself, in his agony, com- 
 pletely out of his element ; the boats are violently jerked, 
 by which one of the lines is snapped asunder ; at the same 
 time the other boat is upset, and its crew are swimming for 
 their lives. The whale is now free ! he passes along the 
 surface with remarkable swiftness, ''going head out;" but 
 the two boats that have not yet '' fastened," and are fresh and 
 free, now give chase. 
 
 12. The whale becomes exhausted from the blood which 
 flows from his deep and dangerous wounds, and the two hun- 
 dred fathoms of line belonging to the overturned boat, which 
 he is dragging after him through the water, checks him in 
 his course; his pursuers again overtake him, and another 
 harpoon is darted and buried deeply in his flesh. 
 
 13. The fatal lance is, at length, given ; the blood gushes 
 from the nostrils of the unfortunate animal in a thick, black 
 stream, which stains the clear blue water of the ocean to a 
 considerable distance around the scene of the affray. The 
 immense creature may now again endeavor to "sound," to 
 escape from his unrelenting pursuers ; but he is powerless. 
 He soon rises to the surface, and passes slowly along until the 
 death-pang seizes him, when his appearance is awful in the 
 extreme. 
 
 14. Suffering from suffocation, or from the stoppage of 
 some important organ, the whoie strength of his enormous 
 frame is set in motion, for a few seconds, when his convulsions 
 throw him into a hundred different contortions of the most 
 violent description, by which the sea is beaten into foam, and 
 boats are sometimes crushed to atoms, with their crews. 
 
 15. But this violent action being soon over, the now un- 
 conscious animal passes rapidly along, describing in his rapid 
 course the segment of a circle; this is his ''flurry," which 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 271 
 
 ends in his sudden dissolution. The mighty rencounter is 
 finished. The gigantic animal rolls over on his side, and 
 floats an inanimate mass on the surface of the crystal deep, — 
 a victim to the tyranny and selfishness, as well as a wonder- 
 ful proof of the great "power of the mind of man. 
 
 Questions. — 1. How are whales generally discovered? 2. Why do they 
 come to the surface of the water ? 3. How far do they sometimes descen(i 
 in the ocean ? 4. Describe the manner in which they are captured. 
 
 LESSOU LXXVIII. 
 
 A' ER N^TJT, one who sails in the \ Iif ter' mi na ble, boundless. 
 
 Ee doub' led, repeated. [air. i Ya'ri e aA ted, diversified ; varied. 
 
 MAa nif' I CENT, grand ; splendid. \ Yerg' ing, tending ; inclining. 
 
 El' e va TED, raised ; excited- Ob lique' ly, slantingly. 
 
 Gon' do la, small boat. Res pi ra' tion, act of breathing. 
 
 Ee girt', surrounded. \ Ze' nith, point in the heavens di- 
 
 Ro' TA RY, turning ; revolving. | rectly over head. 
 
 In ten' si ty, extreme degree. \ Man' di ble$, jaws. 
 
 A' ER OS tat, air-balloon. \ Eu roc' ly don, tempestuous wind, 
 
 LEAVES FROM AN AERONAUT* 
 
 Willis G-aylokd Clakk. 
 
 1. My hour had now come, and I entered the car. With 
 a singular taste, the band struck up, at this moment, the 
 melting air of ''Sweet Honie." It almost overcame me. 
 A thousand associations of youth, friends, of all that I must 
 leave, rushed upon my mind. But I had no leisure for sen- 
 timent. A buzz ran through the assemblage ; unnumbered 
 hands were clapping, unnumbered hearts beating high ; and 
 / was the cause. Every eye was upon me. There was 
 pride in the thought. 
 
 2. ''Let go!" was the word. The cheers redoubled/ 
 
272 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 handkerchiefe waved from many a fair hand ; bright faces 
 beamed from every window, and on every side. One dash 
 with my knife, and I rose aloft, a habitant of air. How 
 magnificent was the sight which now burst upon me ! How 
 sublime were my sensations ! I waved the flag of my coun- 
 try ; the cheers of the multitude from a thousand housetops, 
 reached me on the breeze ; and a taste of the rarer atmosphere 
 elevated my spirits into ecstasy. 
 
 3. The city, with a brilliant sunshine striking the spires 
 and domes, now unfolded to view a sight incomparably beau- 
 tiful. My gondola went easily upward, cleaving the depths 
 of heaven like a vital thing. A diagram placed before you, 
 on the table, could not permit you to trace more definitely 
 than I now could, the streets, the highways, basins, wharves, 
 and squares of the town. The hum of the city arose to my 
 ear, as from a vast bee-hive ; and I seemed the monarch-bee, 
 directing the swarm. 
 
 4. I heard the rattling of carriages, the hearty yo-heavos! 
 of sailors from the docks that, begirt with spars, hemmed the 
 city round. I was a spectator of all, yet aloof, and alone. 
 Increasing stillness attended my way ; and, at last, the mur- 
 murs of earth came to my ear like the vast vibrations of a 
 bell. My car tilted and trembled, as I rose. A swift wind 
 sometimes gave the balloon a rotary motion, which made me 
 deathly sick for a moment; but strong emotion conquered 
 all my physical ailings. 
 
 5. My brain ached with the intensity of my rapture. 
 Human sounds had fainted from my ear. I was in the 
 abyss of heaven, and alone with my God. I could tell my 
 direction by the sun on my left ; and, as his rays played on 
 the aerostat, it seemed only a bright bubble, wavering in the 
 sky, and I, a suspended mote, hung by chance to its train. 
 Looking below me, the distant Sound and Long Island ap- 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 273 
 
 peared to the east ; the bay lay to the south, sprinkled with 
 shipping ; under me, the city, girded with bright rivers and 
 sparry forests. 
 
 6. The free wind was on my cheek, and in my locks ; 
 afar, the ocean rolled its long, blue waves, checkered with 
 masses of shadow, and gushes of ruby sunlight ; to the north 
 and west, the interminable land, variegated like a map, dot- 
 ted with purple, and green, and silver, faded to the eye. 
 The atmosphere which I now breathed, seemed to dilate my 
 heart at every breath. I uttered some audible expressions. 
 My voice was weaker than the faintest sound of a reed. 
 There was no object near to make it reverb or echo. 
 
 7. My barometer now denoted an immense hight; and, 
 as I looked upward and around, the concave above seemed 
 like a mighty waste of purple air, verging to blackness. 
 Below, it was lighter ; but a long, lurid bar of cloud 
 stretched along the west, temporarily excluding the sun. 
 The shadows rushed afar into the void, and a solemn, Sab- 
 bath twilight reigned around. I was now startled by a flut- 
 tering in my gondola. It was my carrier-pigeon. I had 
 forgotten him entirely. I attached a string to his neck, with 
 a label, announcing my hight, then nearly four miles, and 
 the state of the barometer. 
 
 8. As he sat on the side of the car, and turned his tender 
 eyes upon me in mute supplication, every feather shivering 
 with apprehension, I felt that it was a guilty act to push him 
 into the waste beneath. But it was done ; he attempted to 
 rise, but I out-sped him ; he then fell obliquely, fluttering 
 and moaning, till I lost him in the haze. My greatest alti- 
 tude had not yet been reached. I was now five miles from 
 terra Jirma.^ I began to breathe with difficulty. The 
 atmosphere was too rare for safe respiration. 
 
 __ * BoUd earth. 
 
 ^ ^ 12* 
 
274 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 9. I pulled mj valve-cord to descend. It refused to obey 
 my hand. For a moment I was horror-struck. What was 
 to be done ? If I ascended much higher, the balloon would 
 explode. I threw over some tissue paper to test my pro- 
 gress. It is well known thjit this will rise very swiftly. It 
 fell, as if blown downward by a wind from the zenith. I 
 was going upward like an arrow. I attempted to pray, but 
 my parched lips could Dot move. I seized the cord again, 
 vith desperate energy. Blessed Heaven ! it moved. 
 
 10. I threw out more tissue. It rose to me like a wing 
 of joy. I was descending. Though far from sunset, it was 
 now dark about me, except a track of. blood-red haze in the 
 direction of the sun. I encountered a strong current of 
 wind ; mist was, about me ; it lay like dew upon my coat. 
 At last, a thick bar of vapor being past, what a scene was 
 disclosed ! A storm was sweeping through the sky, nearly 
 a mile beneath ; and I looked down upon an ocean of rain- 
 bows, rolling in indescribable grandeur, to the music of the 
 thunder-peal, as it moaned afar and near, on the coming and 
 dying wind. 
 
 11. A frightened eagle had ascended through the tempest, 
 and sailed for minutes by my side, looking at me with pant- 
 ing weariness, and quivering mandibles, but with a dilated 
 eye, whose keen iris flashed unsubdued. Proud emblem of 
 my country ! As he fanned me with his heavy wing, and 
 looked with a human intelligence at the car, my pulse 
 i)Ounded with exulting rapture. Like the genius of my 
 native land, he had risen above every storm, unfettered and 
 
 FREE. 
 
 12. But my transports were soon at an end. He at- 
 tempted to light on the balloon, and my heart sunk ; I feared 
 his huge claws would tear the ^ silk. I pulled my cord ; he 
 roso, as I sank, and the blast swept him from my view in a 
 
 i 
 
KUMBER FOUR. 275 
 
 moment. A flock of wild-fowl, beat by the storm, were 
 coursing below, on bewildered pinions ; and. as I was near- 
 ing them, I knew I was descending. A breaking rift now 
 admitted the sun. The rainbows tossed and gleamed ; chains 
 of fleecy rack, shining in prismatic rays of gold, and purple, 
 and emerald, " beautiful exceedingly," spread on every hand. 
 
 13. Yast curtains of clouds pavilioned the immensity, 
 brighter than celestial roses ; masses of mist were lifted on 
 high, like strips of living fire, more radiant than the sun 
 himself, when his glorious noontide culminates from the 
 equator. A kind of aerial Euroclydon now smote my car, 
 and three of the cords parted, which tilted my gondola to 
 the side, filling me with terror. I caught the broken cords 
 in my hand, but could not tie them. 
 
 14. The storm below was now rapidly passing away, and 
 beneath its waving outline, to the south-east, I saw the ocean. 
 Ships were speeding on their course, and their bright sails 
 melting into distance ; a rainbow hung afar ; and the rolling 
 anthems of the Atlantic came like celestial hymnings to my 
 ear. Presently all was clear below me. The fresh air 
 played around. I had taken a noble circuit ; and my last 
 view was better than the first. I was far over the bay, 
 ^' afloating sweetly to the west." The city, colored by the 
 last blaze of day, brightened remotely to the view. 
 
 15. Below, ships were hastening to and fro through the 
 Narrows, and the far country lay smiling like an Eden. 
 Bright rivers ran like ribbons of gold and silver, till they 
 were lost in the vast inland, stretching beyond the view; the 
 gilded mountains were flinging their purple shadows over 
 many a vale ; bays were blushing to the farewell day-beams ; 
 and now I was passing over a green island. , I sailed to the 
 mainland ; saw the tall, old trees waving to the evening 
 breeze; heard the rural lowing of herds, and the welcome 
 
276 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 sound of human voices ; and, finally, sweeping over forest- 
 tops and embowered villages, at last, descended with the sun, 
 among a kind-hearted, surprised, and hospitable community, 
 in as pretty a town as one could desire to see, "safe and 
 well." 
 
 Questions. — 1. What demonstrations were made by the people as the 
 aeronaut began to ascend ? 2. How did the city and other objects appear 
 to him? 3. What could he hear? 4. Describe the appearance of the 
 ocean. 5. What did he do with his carrier-pigeon ? 6. How high did he 
 ascend ? 1. Describe his descent. 8. What is said about the eagle that 
 came near him ? 9. Describe the appearance of the clouds beneath him. 
 
 LESSON LXXIX. 
 
 Boun' tt, charity ; favor. 
 Pru' gal, prudent ; economical. 
 Flour' ish ed, thrived ; prospered. 
 Dis charg' ED, performed. 
 Breed' ing, education. 
 Em rrao' ED, accepted. 
 Main tain' ed, supported. 
 
 Trudg' ed, traveled. 
 Be guIl' ed, amused- 
 Le' gal, lawful. 
 Twain, two. 
 
 Be witch' ing, charming. 
 Younk' er, lad ; youngster. 
 Med' i ta tive, thoughtful. 
 
 Pro vok' ed, (pro, forward, forth ; voked, called ;) called forth ; excited. 
 
 In clude', (in, in ; clude, shut ;) shut in ; inclose. 
 
 In sert', (in, in; sert, join, set;) join, or set in; put in. 
 
 THE DAPPLE MARE* 
 
 John G. Saxh. 
 
 1. " Once on a time," as ancient tales declare, 
 There lived a farmer in a quiet dell 
 In Massachusetts, but exactly where. 
 
 Or when, is really more than I can tell, — 
 Except that quite above the public bounty, 
 He lived within his means and Bristol county. 
 
b 
 
 NUMBER FOUR. 277 
 
 2. By patient labor and unceasing care. 
 
 He earned, and so enjoyed, his daily bread ; 
 Contented always with his frugal fare, 
 
 Ambition to be rich ne'er vexed his head ; 
 And thus unknown to envy, want, or wealth, 
 He flourished long in comfort, peace, and health. 
 
 3. The gentle partner of his humble lot, 
 
 The joy and jewel of his wedded life, 
 Discharged the duties of his peaceful cot, 
 
 Like a true woman and a faithful wife ; 
 Her mind improved by thought and useful reading, 
 Kind words and gentle manners showed her breeding. 
 
 4. Grown old, at last, the farmer called his son, 
 
 The youngest, (and the favorite I suppose,) 
 And said, — " I long have thought, my darling John^ 
 
 'Tis time to bring my labors to a close ; 
 So now to toil I mean to bid adieu. 
 And deed, my son, the homestead-farm to you." 
 
 5. The boy embraced the boon with vast delight. 
 
 And promised, while their precious lives remained, 
 He'd till and tend the farm from morn till night, 
 
 And see his parents handsomely maintained ; 
 God help him, he would never fail to love, nor 
 Do aught to grieve his gen'rous old gov'nor. 
 
 6. The farmer said, — " Well, let us now proceed, 
 
 (You know there's always danger in delay,) 
 And get 'Squire Robinson to write the deed ; 
 
 Come, — Where's my staff? — we'll soon be on the way.* 
 But John replied, with tender, filial care, 
 *^ You're old and weak— I'll catch the Dapple Mare.^* 
 
278 SANDERS' UNION SEKIKS. 
 
 7. The mare was saddled, and the old man got on, 
 
 The boy on foot trudged cheerfully along, 
 The while, to cheer his sire, the duteous son 
 
 Beguiled the weary way with talk and song. 
 Arrived, at length, they found the 'Squire at home, 
 And quickly told him wherefore they had come. 
 
 8. The deed was writ in proper form of law, 
 
 With many a ' ' foresaid, " ^ ' therefore, ' ' and ^ ' the same, '* 
 And made throughout without mistake or flaw, 
 
 To show that John had now a legal claim 
 To all his father's land — conveyed, given, sold, 
 Quit-claimed, et cetera j* — to have and hold. 
 
 9. Their business done, they left the lawyer's door, 
 
 Happier, perhaps, than when they entered there; 
 And started off as they had done before, — 
 
 The son on foot, the father on the mare. 
 But ere the twain a single mile had gone, 
 A brilliant thought occurred to Master John. 
 
 IQ. Alas for truth ! — alas for filial duty ! — 
 
 Alas that Satan in the shape of pride, 
 (His most bewitching form save that of beauty, ) 
 
 Whispered the lad — '' My boy, you ought to ride 1" 
 *' Get off!" exclaimed the younker — " 't isn't fair 
 That you should always ride the Dapple Mare!" 
 
 11- The son was lusty, and the sire was old. 
 
 And so, with many an oath and many a frown, 
 The hapless father did as he was told ; 
 
 The man got off the steed, the boy got on. 
 And rode away as fast as she could trot, . 
 
 And left his sire to trudge it home on foot I 
 * And so forth. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 279 
 
 12. That night, while seated round the kitchen fire 
 
 The household sat, cheerful as if no word 
 Or deed, provoked the injured father's ire. 
 
 Or aught to make him sad had e'er occurred, — • 
 Thus spoke he to his son : " We quite forgot, 
 I think, t' include that little turnip lot !" 
 
 13. *'I'm very sure, my son, it wouldn't hurt it," 
 
 Calmly observed the meditative sire, 
 *' To take the deed, my lad, and just insert it ;" 
 
 Here the old man inserts it — m the fire ! 
 Then cries aloud with most triumphant air, 
 ^' Who now, my son, shall ride the Dapple Mare?" 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What proposition did the father make to his eon? 2. 
 What did the sou promise to do ? 3. How did the son treat his fkther 
 after he got the deed ? 4. What did the old gentleman do ? 
 
 LESSON LXXX. 
 
 Hard' i hood, bravery. < Pal' lid, pale. 
 
 Main' -TRUCK, small cap at the top Lu' rid, dismal; gloomy. 
 
 of a flagstaff or masthead. •> Hue, color. 
 
 A GHAST', horrified. \ Riv' et ed, firmly fixed. 
 
 Groups, clusters ; crowds. \ Fold' ed, embraced ; • clasped. 
 
 1 Ma Hon', {Ma hone,) a sea-port town on the island of Minorca, in the 
 Mediterranean Sea. 
 
 A LEAP FOR LIFE* 
 
 Gkorgk p. Mobbm, 
 
 1. Old Ironsides at anchor lay, 
 {sl.^ In the harbor of Mahon^ ; 
 
 A dead calm rested on the bay, — 
 The waves to sleep had gone, — 
 
280 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 When little Jack,=^ the captain's son, 
 
 With gallant hardihood, 
 Climbed shroud and spar, — and then upon 
 
 The main-truck rose and stood ! 
 
 2. A shudder ran through every vein, — 
 
 All eyes were turned on high ! 
 There stood the boy, with dizzy brain, 
 
 Between the sea and sky ! 
 No hold had he above, — below, 
 
 Alone he stood in air ! 
 At that far hight none dared to go, — 
 
 No aid could reach him there. 
 
 8. We gazed, — but not a man could speak 
 
 With horror all aghast 
 In groups, with pallid brow and cheek, 
 
 We watched the quivering mast ! 
 The atmosphere grew thick and hot, 
 
 And of a lurid hue. 
 As, riveted unto the spot, 
 
 Stood officers and crew. 
 
 4. The father came on deck. He gasped, 
 " God, Thy will be done !" 
 Then suddenly a rifle grasped, 
 And aimed it at his son ! 
 ** Jump far out, boy, into the wave ! 
 
 Jump, or I fire !" he said. 
 *' That only chance your life can save I 
 ('') Jump ! jump, boy !" He obeyed. 
 
 * A name oommonly applied to a young sailor. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 281 
 
 5. He sank, — ^he rose, — he lived, — he moved, — 
 
 He for the ship struck out ! 
 On board we hailed the lad beloved 
 
 With many a manly shout. 
 His father drew, in silent joy. 
 
 Those wet arms round his neck, 
 Then folded to his heart the boy, 
 
 And fainted on the deck ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What did the captain's son do, on board the Ironsides ? 
 2. Describe his situation. 3. What is said of the officers and crew ? 4. 
 What did the father say and do ? 6. What did the boy do ? 
 
 LESSON LXXXI. 
 
 Com min" gle, mix or unite. j Wia' wam, Indian hut or cabin. 
 
 Pe des' TBI AN, traveler on foot. j Em bark' ed, went aboard. 
 Prom' i nent, important. Twang, quick, sharp sound. 
 
 Trag' ic, fatal ; mournful. | Spa' ciouS, large ; capacious. 
 
 Nar rate', tell ; relate. | Wa' ri ly, cautiously. 
 
 - Yore, olden time. | Mys te' ri ous ly, strangely. 
 
 Wi' LY, craft ; cunning. Om' in ous, foreboding ill. 
 
 Re lent' less, hard-hearted ; cruel. 1 Im pla' ca ble, relentless. 
 
 Un trace' A BLE, (uN, not ; TRACE, mark; able, thai can be;) that can, 
 not be marked, or traced ; not found out. 
 
 THE INDIAN BRIDE'S REVENGE. 
 
 L. M. Stowell. 
 
 1. In the State of New York, where the dark, foaming 
 waters of the Black River, after roaring and surging through 
 many pleasant fields, beautiful groves, and dense woodlands, 
 commingle with the clear, cold waters of Lake Ontario, the 
 wandering pedestrian or the lone fisherman may see, resting 
 upon a gravelly flat, the remains of an old Indian canoe, 
 
282 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 whose once beautiful proportions, now untraceable in its rot- 
 tenness, bore a prominent part in the tragic event I am 
 about to narrate. 
 
 2. Through these pleasant valleys, among the broken 
 hills, and in her majestic forests, of yore, the wily Indian 
 and his dusky mate, held undisputed possession ; and many 
 are the incidents, yet unwritten, of tragic and thrilling 
 interest, that transpired around the red man's camp-fire, ere 
 the white man disturbed their forest homes. 
 
 3. Sious'ka, or the ''Wild Flower,'^ was the daughter 
 of a powerful chief of the Onondagas, and the only being 
 ever known to turn the relentless old chief from a savage 
 purpose. Something of this influence was owing to her 
 great beauty ; but 'more to the gentleness of which that 
 beauty was the emblem. Her downcast eye, her trembling 
 lip, her quiet, submissive motion, all bespoke its language ; 
 and many were the young chieftains that sought to win her 
 affections. 
 
 4. Among her admirers were two young chiefs of the 
 Oneidas, with whom the Onondagas were on the most friendly 
 terms. Si ous'ka's father, in order to cherish the friendly 
 feeling of the two tribes, and, at the same time, strengthen 
 his power, besought her to accept the more powerful chief, 
 '' Eagle Eye." He did not plead in vain; for she had long 
 loved the young Oneida. 
 
 5. One bright sunny morning, in early spring, as the 
 old chief was out hunting, the young Oneida crossed his 
 path, upon which the old man advanced, and, laying his hand 
 upon his shoulder, pointed to the dwelling of Si ous' ka. 
 Not a word was spoken. The proud old man and the strong, 
 young chief proceeded toward her wigwam^ and entered 
 together. 
 
 6. Si ous' ka was seated in one corner, engaged upon some 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 288 
 
 fancy basket-work, and did not notice their approach until 
 the J had entered. The old chief looked upon her with an 
 expression of love, which his stern countenance never wore 
 except in her presence. " Si ous'ka," he said in a subdued 
 tone, "Go to the wigwam of the Oneida, that jour father's 
 tribe may be strengthened, and many moons may shine upon 
 their peace and prosperity.^' 
 
 T. There was mingled joy and modesty in the upward 
 glance of the "Wild Flower" of the Onondagas, and, when 
 the young chief saw the light of her mild eye suddenly 
 and timidly vailed by its deeply-fringed lid, he knew^ that her 
 love had lost none of its power. The marriage song was 
 soon sung in the royal wigwam, in which the sweet voice of 
 Si ous'ka was happily heard to mingle. 
 
 8. When the rejected chief of the Oneidas heard that the 
 "Wild Flower" had mated with the "Eagle Eye," his 
 wrath knew no bounds, and he secretly resolved upon re- 
 venge. Two years passed away, and, as yet, no good oppor- 
 tunity had arrived; for he dared not attack " Eagle Eye" in 
 open conflict, for fear of his superior powers ; and, assassin- 
 like, he sought to give the blow unperceived. 
 
 9. At length, the spring came, and a number of the tribe 
 prepared to visit Lake Ontario, on a fishing and hunting ex- 
 cursion. Among the number who went, were the " Eagle 
 Eye," Sious'ka, and their little boy. They were obliged to 
 carry their light, birchen canoes from home, and these were 
 packed with the necessary tackle, skins for beds, &c. The 
 
 • strong men of the party carried the canoes on tlieir shoul- 
 ders, and the women the smaller articles of furniture. 
 
 10. They had advanced across the country, until they 
 reached the Black Eiver, and, by carrying their canoes 
 around falls and rapids, gently floated down the stream till 
 they reached the great falls, about six miles from the Lake. 
 
284 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Here they halted for the night, and encamped about half a 
 mile above the falls. 
 
 11. The morning came; and, as the first beam of the 
 rising sun pierced the forest shade, the party again em- 
 barked in their canoes for the mouth of the river, the gaudy 
 canoe of Si ous'ka, which her father had given her, taking 
 the lead. They had scarcely started from the shore, ere the 
 sharp twang of a bow-string was heard from the shore, and 
 an unerring arrow pierced the heart of '' Eagle Eye." He 
 fell over the side of the canoe, and was swept by the current 
 over the great falls. 
 
 12. The party immediately started in pursuit of the cow- 
 ard murderer ; but they sought in vain. His hiding-place 
 was too sure, — he had taken refuge in a cave, the entrance 
 of which was hid from observation by a thick clump of 
 cedars. Here he remained till he was certain the company 
 had departed. This cave is still there, and I have often been 
 in its many chambers, — some of which are very spacious. 
 
 13. The fatal shaft was winged from the bow of the re- 
 venged Oneida chief Having been apprised of the expedi- 
 tion, he had warily dogged the steps of the party, until a 
 favorable opportunity presented itself, and then satisfied his 
 secret longing for revenge upon the enemy, whom he did not 
 dare to attack even-handed. The party sought him far and 
 near ; but, as no trace of any one could be found, they im- 
 agined, with superstitious fear, that the " Great Spirit" had 
 thus summoned " Eagle Eye" to the " Spirit's Hunting 
 Ground." 
 
 14. When they returned to their canoes, no traces of Si ous'- 
 ka and her child were to be found. They, too, had mysteri- 
 ously disappeared, and the whole party, with ominous silence, 
 hastened around the falls, and away from the fearful place. 
 When Si ous'ka saw the fatal shaft pierce her companion, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. . 285 
 
 with a fearful shriek she fell into the bottom of the canoe, 
 hid herself in the furs, and immediately her reason forsook 
 her. 
 
 15. When she recovered, she found that her canoe, urged 
 on by the current, had floated into a large cave, and was 
 firmly wedged in between two rocks, and her little boy, with 
 his bow and arrow in his hand, was quietly sleeping by her 
 side. Dislodging the canoe, she plied the oars, and was soon 
 outside the cave. 
 
 16. On finding her people had left her, she sought the 
 shore, and, fastening the canoe, proceeded below the falls, 
 where she found the body of the ill-fated "Eagle Eye," 
 where it had washed ashore. With superhuman strength, 
 she bore the mangled body to a thick grove of cedars, and, 
 with her own hands, dug a rude grave, and covered his 
 remains with dried leaves and earth. That night she kept 
 her lonely watch beside the grave of all that she held dear 
 on earth, save her boy, intending to follow the party on the 
 morrow. 
 
 17. The morning came, and the mid-day sun began to 
 descend toward the western hills, ere she left the grave of 
 the murdered chief But, at length, she sorrowfully de- 
 parted ; and, on arriving where shemoored the canoe the day 
 before, what was her surprise to see the murderer of her 
 husband, quietly sleeping upon the skins where last " Eaglo 
 Eye" had reposed, in the bow of the canoe. 
 
 18. From that moment Si ous'ka was changed. Her 
 quiet, submissive air immediately gave place to fierce stern- 
 ness, and the eye that had always beamed with the smile of 
 love, shot forth flashes of bitter hate and passion, implacable 
 as the most bloodthirsty of her tribe. Noiselessly throwing 
 the oars from the boat, with a wild shriek, she quickly swung 
 it around into the rapidly rolling current, and it was hurried 
 
286 SAiyDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 toward the brink of that awful cataract, over which no living 
 being had ever passed alive. 
 
 19. The young chief, awakened by that fearful, exulting 
 cry of revenge, and seeing the peril of his situation, leaped 
 from the bark that was hurrying him to sure destruction, 
 and vainly sought to gain the shore. After struggling with 
 the swift tide for a moment, in which he was carried nearer 
 and nearer the awful brink, he turned, and, with a wild, 
 unearthly yell, plunged over, and the boiling waters only 
 responded to his death-wail, as he sunk to rise no more, and 
 his spirit joined that of his victim in the " Spirit Land." 
 
 20. After the gentle "Wild Flower" had avenged the 
 death of the '^ Eagle Eye," she returned to her father's wig- 
 wam, and spent the remainder of her life to the memory of 
 her heart's first devotion. The canoe, all battered and broken, 
 floated to the mouth of the river, bottom side up, where it 
 was seen by one of the party while fishing, drawn to the 
 shore, and left to decay. The party supposed that " Eagle 
 Eye," Sious'ka, and her child, had all perished in some 
 mysterious manner. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Who was Si ous'ka ? 2. "Who became her husband ? 3. 
 What efifect had her marriage upon the rejected Oneida chief? 4. In what 
 way did he seek revenge? 5. How did Sious'ka avenge the death of her 
 husband ? 
 
 LESSON LXXXII. 
 
 En ter tain' ed, had ; harbored. } Ri' val ry, emulation. 
 Pe cul iar' I TY, something special. Re vers' e$, troubles ; difficulties. 
 Cha grin' ed, {sha grin' ed,) vexed, i In vig' or a ted, made strong. 
 Mor' ti fi ed, hurt in feeling. I Des la' tion, waste ; ruin. 
 
 Out strip', go beyond ; excel. I Ref' uge, shelter ; protection. 
 
 Sym' pa thiz ed, (sym, with ; pate, feeling ; ize, make, have ; ed, did ;) 
 did havQ feeling with. Seo Note on the suffix ize, p. 132 of the Analysis. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 287 
 
 ^ Sis' e ra, captain of the army of the Canaanitish king, Jabin. He was 
 utterly defeated by Barak; Fleeing on foot, he took refuge in the tent of 
 Jael, wife of Heber. There, while asleep, Jael drove a nail through his 
 temples, and so he died. His mother, finding he did not return from the 
 battle, " looked out at a window, and cried through the lattice. Why is his 
 chariot so long in coming?" Bead 4th and 5th chapters of Judges. 
 
 A MOTHER^S IxOYE. 
 
 Albert Baenbb. 
 
 1. Many of us who are advanced beyond the period of 
 childhood, went out from home to embark on the stormy sea 
 of life. Of the feelings of a father, and of his interest in 
 our welfare, we have never entertained a doubt, and our home 
 was dear because he was there ; but there was a peculiarity 
 in the feeling that it was the home of our mother. Where 
 she lived, there was a place that we felt was home. There 
 was one place where we would always be welcome, one place 
 where we would be met with a smile, one place w^here we 
 would be sure of a friend. 
 
 2. The world might be indifferent to us. We might be 
 unsuccessful in our studies or our business. The new friends 
 which we supposed we had made, might prove to be false. 
 The honor which we thought we deserved, might be with- 
 held from us. We might be chagrined and mortified by see- 
 ing a rival outstrip us, and bear away the prize which we 
 sought. But there loas a place where no feelings of rivalry 
 were found, and where those whom the world overlooked, 
 would be sure of a friendly greeting. Whether pale and wan 
 by study, care, or sickness, or flushed with health and flat- 
 tering success, we were sure that we should be welcome 
 tliore. 
 
 3. Though the world was cold toward us, yet there was 
 one who always rejoiced in our success, and always was 
 affected in our reverses ; and there was a place to which we 
 
288 SANDERS* UNION SERI£S. 
 
 might go back from the storm which began to pelt us, where 
 we might rest, and become encouraged and invigorated for a 
 new conflict. So have I seen a bird, in its first efforts to 
 iiy, leave its nest, and stretch its wings, and go forth to the 
 wide world. But the wind blew it back, and the rain began 
 to fall, and the darkness of night began to draw on, and 
 there was no shelter abroad, and it sought its way back to 
 its nest, to take shelter beneath its mother's wings, and to 
 be refreshed for the struggles of a new day ; but then it flew 
 away to think of its nest and its mother no more. 
 
 4. But not thus did we leave our home when we bade adieu 
 to it to go forth alone to the manly duties of life. Even 
 amidst the storms that then beat upon us, and the disappoint- 
 ments that we met with, and the coldness of the world, we 
 felt still that there was one who sympathized in our troubles, 
 as well as rejoiced in our success, and that, whatever might 
 be abroad, when we entered the door of her dwelling, we 
 should be met with a smile. We expected that a mother, 
 like the mother of Sisera, as she ''looked out at her win- 
 dow," waiting for the coming of her son laden with the spoils 
 of victory, would look out for our coming, and that our 
 return would renew her joy and ours in our earlier days. 
 
 5. It makes a sad desolation when, from such a place, a 
 mother is taken away, and when, whatever may be the sor- 
 rows or the successes in life, she is to greet the returning son 
 or daughter no more. The home of our childhood may be 
 still lovely. The old family mansion — the green fields — the 
 running stream — the moss-covered well — the trees — the 
 lawn — the rose — the sweet-brier — may be there. Perchance, 
 too, there may be an aged father, with venerable locks, sit- 
 ting in his loneliness, with every thing to command respect 
 and love ; but she is not there. Her familiar voice is not 
 heard. The mother has been borne forth to sleep by the side 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 289 
 
 of her children who went before her, and the place is not 
 what it was. 
 
 6. There may be those there whom we much love ; but she 
 is not there. We may have formed new relations in life, 
 tender and strong as they can be ; we may have another 
 home, dear to us as was the home of our childhood, where 
 there is all in affection, kindness, and religion, to make us 
 happy ; but that home is not what it was, and it will never 
 be what it was again. It is a loosening of one of the cords 
 "which bound us to earth, designed to prepare us for our 
 eternal flight from every thing dear here below, and to teach 
 us that there is no place here, that is to be our permanent 
 home. 
 
 Questions. — 1, "What renders home doubly endearing? 2. Where ara 
 •we always -welcome? 3. Who always rejoices in our successes, and is 
 affected in our reverses ? 4. AVho was Sisera, and what account is given of 
 him? 
 
 LESSON LXXXIII. 
 
 Un spot' ted, pure ; unstained. j PuR su' ING, following. 
 
 F^l' ter, fail. I Stern' er, harsher ; more rigid. 
 
 Tra' cer t, traces ; impressions \ De fy', dare ; challenge. 
 
 Im' press, mark ; stamp. \ Who' so, any person "whatever. 
 
 Do min' ion, authority ; predominance.) To' ken, sign ; indication. 
 
 Bhrink, withdraw. J Broth' er hood, fraternity. 
 
 THE LIFE-BOOK* 
 
 Home Jottbval. 
 
 1. Write, mother, write, 
 
 A new, unspotted book of life before thee, 
 Thine is the hand to trace upon its pages 
 4U 13 
 
290 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 The first few characters, to live in glory, 
 
 Or live in shame, through long, unending ages ! 
 Write, mother, write ! 
 Thy hand, though woman's, must not faint nor falter; 
 
 The lot is on thee, — nerve thee then with care, — 
 A mother^ s tracery time may never alter ; 
 
 Be its first impress, then, the breath of prayer. 
 Write, mother, write ! 
 
 2. Write, father, write! 
 
 Take thee a pen plucked from an eagle's pinion, 
 
 And write immortal actions for thy son ; 
 Teach him that man forgets man's high dominion, 
 Creeping on earth, leaving great deeds undone ! 
 Write, father, write! 
 Leave on his life-book a fond father's blessing. 
 To shield him 'mid temptation, toil; and sin, 
 And he shall go to glory's field, possessing 
 Strength to contend, and confidence to tvin. 
 Write, father, write ! 
 
 8. Write, sister, write! 
 
 Nay, shrink not, for a sister's love is holy ! 
 
 Write words the angels whisper in thine ears,-*- 
 No bud of sweet a flection, howe'er lowly. 
 But planted here, will bloom in after years. 
 Write, sister, write! 
 Something to cheer him, his rough way pursuing, 
 
 For manhood's lot is sterner far than ours ; 
 He may not pause, — he must be up and doing, 
 Whilst thou sitt'st idly, dreaming among flowers. 
 Write, sister, write 1 
 
NUMBER FOUR.* 291 
 
 4. Write, brother, write! 
 
 Strike a bold blow upon those kindred pages, — 
 
 Write ; shoulder to shoulder, brother, we will go ; 
 Heart linked to heart, though wild the conflict rages, 
 
 We will defy the battle and the foe. 
 Write, brother, write ! 
 We who have trodden boyhood's path together, 
 
 Beneath the summer's sun and winter's sky, 
 What matter if life brings us some foul weather, 
 
 We may be stronger than adversity ! 
 Write, brother, write! 
 
 5. Fellow immortal, write I 
 
 One God reigns in the Heavens, — there is no other, — 
 
 And all mankind are brethren — thus 'tis spoken, — • 
 And whoso aids a sorrowing, struggling brother, 
 
 By kindly word, or deed, or friendly token, 
 Shall win the favor of our heavenly Father, 
 
 Who judges evil, and rewards the good. 
 And who hath linked the race of man together, 
 
 In one vast, universal brotherhood I 
 Fellow immortal, write ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What may the mother write in the Life-Book ? 2. What, 
 the father ? 3. What, the sister ? 4. What, the brother ? 5. What may- 
 all write 7 
 
 -*^$c:^^^^^^^-'^f--^--=- — 
 
 LESSON LXXXIV. 
 
 Ode, short poem. J Eec re a' tion, amusement. 
 
 Pa ter' nal, coming by inheritance. \ In' no cence, freedom from guilt. 
 
 At tire', clothing ; raiment. S Med i ta' tion, contemplation. 
 
 Un con cern' ED LT, without care. \ Un la ment' ed, unmourned. 
 
Pon. 
 
 292 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 ODE ON SOLITUOr* 
 
 "Written when the author was twelve years of age. 
 
 1. Happy the man whose wish and care 
 
 A few paternal acres bound, 
 
 CJontent to breathe his native air 
 
 In his own ground. 
 
 2. Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 
 
 Whose flocks supply him with attire ; 
 Whose trees in summer yield him shade, 
 In winter fire. 
 
 3. Blest who can unconcernedly find 
 
 Hours, days, and years glide soft away, 
 In health of body, peace of mind. 
 Quiet by day. 
 
 4. Sound sleep by night ; study and ease, 
 
 Together mixed ; sweet recreation ; 
 And innocence, which most doth please 
 With meditation. 
 
 5. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown ; 
 
 Thus unlamented let me die ; 
 Steal from the world, and not a stono 
 Tell where I lie. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Who, did the writer think, were happy? 2. How did 
 he wish to live and die? 3. Analyze th© word recreation, (re, hcLck; crea- 
 tion, aoi of bringing into life ;) act of bringing back to life ; a reviving. 
 
SUMUEA FOUlt. 293 
 
 LESSON LXXXV. 
 
 Ad mi ra' tion, esteem. j In trin' sic al ly, really ; truly. 
 
 Fra ter' nal, brotherly. j Ap pre' ciate, value ; esteem. 
 In sig nif' i cance, worthlessness. Br4WN, physical strength. 
 
 Crit'ical, perilous. \ Pin' na cle, summit; highest point. 
 
 Thor' odgh ly, completely ; fully. \ Sin' u ous, winding ; bending. 
 Coji PRE hend', understand. Le git' i mate, lawful. 
 
 Con vie' tion, strong belief. | Req' n $ite, necessary. 
 Com pe ti" tion, strife ; rivalry. Con ser va/ tion, act of keeping. 
 
 Em u la' tion, competition. ( De vel' op ment, training. 
 
 GETTING THE RIGHT START* 
 
 J. Gr. Holland. 
 
 1. The first great lesson a young man should learn, is, 
 that he kfioivs nothing; and that the earlier and more 
 thoroughly this lesson is learned, the better it will be for his 
 peace of mind, and his success in life. A young man bred 
 at home, and growing up in the light of parental admiration 
 and fraternal pride, can not readily understand how it is, 
 that every one else can be his equal in talent and acquisition. 
 If bred in the country, he seeks the life of the town, he 
 will very early obtain an idea of his insignificance. 
 
 2. This is a critical period in his history. The result of 
 his reasoning will decide his fate. If, at this time, he thor- 
 oughly comprehend, and in his soul admit and accept the 
 fact, that he knows nothing and is nothing ; if he bow to 
 the conviction that his mind and his person are but ciphers, 
 and that whatever he is to be, and is to wifi, must be 
 achieved by hard luork. there is abundant hope of him. 
 
 3. If, on the contrary, a huge self-conceit still hold pos- 
 session of him, and he straighten stiffly up to the assertion 
 of his old and valueless self, — or, if he sink discouraged 
 upon the threshold of a life of fierce competitions, and more 
 manly emulations, he might as well be a dead man. The 
 
294 SANDERS' UJVION SERIES. 
 
 ■world has no use for such a man, and he has only to retire 
 or be trodden upon. 
 
 4. When a young man has thoroughly comprehended the 
 fact that he knows 7iothing^ and that, intrinsically, he is of 
 but little value^ the next thing for him to learn is that the 
 world cares nothing for him, — that he is the subject of no 
 man's overwhelming admiration and esteem, — ^that he must 
 take care of himself. 
 
 5. If he be a stranger, he will find every man busy with 
 bis own affairs, and none to look after him. He will not be 
 noticed until he becomes noticeable, and he will not become 
 noticeable, until he does something to prove that he has an 
 absolute value in society. No letter of recommendation will 
 give him this, or ought to give him this. ]N"o family con- 
 nection will give him this, except among those few who 
 think more of blood than brains. 
 
 6. Society demands that a young man shall he somebody, 
 not only, but that Jie shall prove his right to the title ; and 
 it has a right to demand this. Society will not take this 
 matter upon trust, — at least, not for a long time ; for it has 
 been cheated too frequently. Society is not very particular 
 what a man does, so that it prove him to be a man : then it 
 will bow to him, and make room for him. 
 
 7. There is no surer sign of an unmanly and cowardly 
 spirit, than a vague desire for help, — a wish to depend, to 
 lean upon somebody, and enjoy the fruits of the industry of 
 others. There are multitudes of young men who indulge in 
 dreams of help from some quarter, coming in at a convenient 
 moment, to enable them to secure the success in life which 
 they covet. The vision haunts them of some benevolent old 
 gentleman, with a pocket full of money, a trunk full of 
 mortgages and stocks, and a mind remarkably appreciative 
 of merit and genius, who will, perhaps, give or lend them 
 
IVUMBER FOUR. 295 
 
 from ten to twenty thousand dollars, with which they -will 
 commence and go on swimmingly. 
 
 8. To me, one of the most disgusting sights in the world, 
 13 that of a young man with healthy blood, broad shoulders, 
 and a hundred and fifty pounds, more or less, of good bone 
 and muscle, standing with his hands in his pockets, longing 
 for help. I admit that there are positions in which the mo?fc, 
 independent spirit may accept of assistance, — may, in fact, 
 as a choice of evils, desire it ; but for a man who is able to 
 help himself, to desire the help of others in the accomplish- 
 ment of his plans of life, is positive proof that he has re- 
 ceived a most unfortunate training, or that there is a leaven 
 of meanness in his composition, that should make him shudder. 
 
 9. When, therefore, a young man has ascertained and fully 
 received the fact that he does not know any thing, that the 
 world does not care any thing about him, that what he wins 
 must be won by his own brain and brawn, and that while he 
 holds in his own hands the means of gaining his own liveli- 
 hood and the objects of his life, he can not receive assistance 
 without compromising his self-respect and selling his freedom, 
 he is in a fair position for beginning life. When a young 
 man becomes aware that only by his own efforts can he rise 
 into companionship and competition with the sharp, strong, 
 and well-drilled minds around him, he is ready for work, 
 and not before. 
 
 10. The next lesson is, that of patience^ thoroughness of 
 preparation, and contentment with the regular channels of 
 business effort and enterprise. This is, perhaps, one of the 
 most difl&cult to learn, of all the lessons of life. It is natu- 
 ral for the mind to reach out eagerly for immediate results. 
 
 11. As manhood dawns, and the young man catches in 
 its first light the pinnacles of realized dreams, the golden 
 domes of high possibilities, and the purpling hills of great 
 
296 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 delights, and then looks down upon the narrow, sinuous, 
 long, and dusty path by which others have reached them, he 
 is apt to be disgusted with the passage, and to seek for suc- 
 cess through broader channels, by quicker means. Begin- 
 ning at the very foot of the hill, and working slowly to the 
 top, seems a very discouraging process ; and precisely at this 
 point, have thousands of young men made shipwreck of 
 their lives. 
 
 12. Let this be understood, then, at starting ; that the 
 patient conquest of difficulties, which rise in the regular and 
 legitimate channels of business and enterprise, is not only 
 essential in securing the successes which you seek, but it is 
 essential to that preparation of your mind, requisite for the 
 enjoyment of your successes, and for retaining them "tvhen 
 gained. It is the general rule of Providence, the world 
 over, and in all time, that unearned success is a curse. It 
 is the rule of Providence, that the process of earning success, 
 shall be the preparation for its conservation and enjoyment. 
 
 13. So, day by day, and week by week , so, month after 
 month, and year after year, work on^ and in that process 
 gain strength and symmetry, and nerve and knowledge, that 
 when success, patiently and bravely worked for, shall come, 
 it may find you prepared to receive it and keep it. The 
 development which you will get in this brave and patient 
 labor, will prove itself, in the end, the most valuable of your 
 successes. It will help to make a man of you. It will 
 give you power and self-reliance. It will give you not only 
 self-respect^ but the respect of your fellows and tht 
 public. 
 
 QuEsnoNS. — 1. What is the first lesson a young man should learn? 2. 
 What IS the next lesson he should learn? 3. What does society demand of 
 a young man ? 4, What is a sure sign of an unmanly and cowardly spirit ? 
 5. When is a young man in a fair position for beginmng life ? 6. What is a 
 general rule of Providence ? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 297 
 
 LESSON LXXXVI. 
 
 Pee $ump' tion, arrogance. ^ Dis suade', turn away from. 
 
 Soph' ists, professed teachers of wis- j Ex cess' ive, overmuch. 
 Ac cost' ed, addressed. [dom. \ Es teem' ed, highly regarded. 
 
 Gen' ius, natural aptitude. > Re trench', lessen ; curtail, [less. 
 
 In duc' ed, prevailed upon. s Su per' flu ous, extravagant ; need- 
 
 Phi los' PHER^ lover of wisdom. I Un der tak' ing, engaging in. 
 tBAR' BA ROUS, foreign ; uncivilized, 'i In ca pac' i ty, inability. 
 
 ' The mis' to cle$, a celebrated Athenian statesman and military leader, 
 was born about 514 before Christ. 
 
 ' Ci' MON, an illustrious Athenian general and statesman, born about the 
 year 510, before Christ. He belonged to the aristocratic party of his time, 
 and contributed to the banishment of Themistocles, the leader of the oppo- 
 site party. He was also the political opponent of Pericles. 
 
 * Per' I cle$, an Athenian statesman, born about 495 before Christ. He 
 labored to make Athens the capital of all Greece, and the seat of art and 
 refinement. 
 
 * Pla' to, a celebrated Greek philosopher, born in Athens about the year 
 429 before Christ. He was a pupil of Socrates, for note on whom, see p. 138. 
 
 THE PRESUMPTION OF YOUTH. 
 
 EOLLIN. 
 
 1. The young people of Athens, amazed at the glory of 
 Themistocles/ of Cimon,'' of Pericles/ and full of a foolish 
 ambition, after having received some lessons from the soph- 
 ists, who promised to render them very great politicians, 
 believed themselves capable of every thing, and aspired to 
 fill the highest places. One of them, named Glaucon, took 
 it so strongly in head that he had a peculiar genius for 
 public affairs, although he was not yet twenty years of age, 
 that no person in his family, nor among his friends, had the 
 power to divert him from a notion so little befitting his ago 
 and capacity 
 
 2. Socrates, who liked him on account of Plato* his 
 brother, wa« the only one who succeeded in making him 
 
 4 U 18* 
 
298 SANDERS' U]SriON SERIES. 
 
 change his resolution. Meeting him one daj, he accosted 
 him with so dexterous a discourse, that he induced him to 
 listen. He had already gained much influence over him. 
 ''You have a desire to govern the republic T' said Socrates. 
 "True," replied Glaucon. "You can not have a finer 
 design," said the philosopher, "since, if you succeed in it^ 
 you will be in a state to serve your friends, to enlarge your 
 house, and to extend the limits of your native country. 
 
 3. "You will become known not only in Athens, but 
 through all Greece ; and it may be that your renown will 
 reach even to the barbarous nations, like that of Themisto- 
 cles. At last, you will gain the respect and admiration of 
 everybody." A beginning so flattering pleased the young 
 man exceedingly, and he very willmgly continued the con- 
 versation. "Since you desire to make yourself esteemed 
 and respected, it is clear that you think to render yourself 
 useful to the public." " Assuredly." " Tell me, then, I 
 beseech you, what is the first service that you intend to ren- 
 der the state ?" 
 
 4. As Glaucon appeared to be perplexed, and considered 
 what he ought to answer, — "Probably," replied Socrates, 
 "it will be to enrich the republic, that is to say, to increase 
 its revenues." "Exactly so." "And, undoubtedly, you 
 know in what the revenues of the state consist, and the ex- 
 tent to which they may be increased. You will not have 
 failed to make it a private study, to the end that if one 
 source should suddenly fail, you may be able to supply its 
 place immediately with another." "I assure you," answered 
 Glaucon, " that this is what I have never thought of." 
 
 5. " Tell me, at least, then, the necessary expenses of 
 maintaining the republic. You can not fail to know of 
 what importance it is to retrench those which are super- 
 fluous." "I confess to you that I am not more instructed 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 299 
 
 with regard to this article than the other." " Then it is 
 necessary to defer till another time the design that you liave 
 of enriching the republic ; for it is impossible for you to ben- 
 efit the state while you are ignorant of its revenues and 
 expenses." 
 
 6. "But," said Glaucon, "there is still another means 
 that you pass over in silence, — one can enrich a state by the 
 ruin of its enemies." "You are right," replied Socrates; 
 " but, in order to do that, you must be the more powerful; 
 otherwise you run the risk of losing that which you possess. 
 So, he who speaks of undertaking a war, ought to know the 
 power of both parties, to the end that if he finds his party 
 the stronger, he may boldly risk the adventure ; but, if he 
 find it the weaker, he should dissuade the people from under- 
 taking it. 
 
 7. " But, do you know what are the forces of our republic, 
 by sea and by land, and what are those of our enemies' ? have 
 you a statement of them in writing' ? You will do me the 
 pleasure to allow me a perusal of it." "I have none yet," 
 replied Glaucon. " I see, then," said Soc^tes, " that we 
 shall not make war so soon, if they intrust you with the 
 government; for there remain many things for you to know, 
 and many cares to take." 
 
 8. The sage mentioned many other articles, not less im- 
 portant, in which he found Glaucon equally inexperienced, 
 and he pointed out how ridiculous they render themselves, 
 who have the rashness to intermeddle with government, with- 
 out bringing any other preparation to the task than a great 
 degree of self-esteem and excessive ainbition. " Fear, my 
 dear Glaucon," said Socrates, " fear, lest a too ardent desire 
 for honors should blind you ; and cause you to take a part 
 that would cover you with shame, in bringing to light your 
 incapacity, and want of talent." 
 
800 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 9. The youth was wise enough to profit by the good advice 
 of his instructor, and took some time to gain private infor- 
 mation, before he ventured to appear in public. This lesson 
 is for all ages. 
 
 Questions. — 1. To what did the young people of Athens aspire ? 2. 
 "What did Glaucon beUeve he possessed? 3. "Who succeeded in making 
 him change his resolution ? 4. How did Socrates do this? 5. "What did 
 Socrates finally say to him? 
 
 LESSON LXXXVII. 
 
 Crest, topmost hight. 
 
 Tor' rents, rushing streams. 
 
 Type, symbol; token. 
 
 Ae' rie, {d' ry,) eagle's nest. 
 
 Yault'ed, arched. 
 
 Liq'uid, {lik'wid,) clear; flowing. 
 
 Bask, lie exposed to warmth. 
 
 Can' PY, covering. 
 
 Rev' el ry, noisy merriment. 
 
 Bide, stay; continue. 
 
 Yo Lup' TU ous, devoted to pleasura 
 Haunts, places of resort. 
 Ex piRE$', dies ; becomes extinct. 
 Smol' der ing, burning and smok- 
 ing without vent. 
 Her' it age, inheritance. 
 Quench' ed, extinguished. 
 Pen' NGN, flag ; banner. 
 "Wrench, wrest ; twist off. 
 Cra' ven, base ; cowardly. 
 
 SONG OF THE AMERICAN EAGLE* 
 
 1. I BUILD my nest on the mountain's crest, 
 
 Where the wild winds rock my eaglets to rest, — 
 Where the lightnings flash, and the thunders crash, 
 And the roaring torrents foam and dash ; 
 For my spirit free henceforth shall be 
 A type of the sons of Liberty. 
 
 2. Aloft I fly from my aerie high, 
 
 Through the vaulted dome of the azure aky ; 
 
NUMBER FOUR. gQl 
 
 On a sunbeam bright take my airy flight, 
 And float in a flood of liquid light ; 
 For I love to play in the noontide ray, 
 And bask in a blaze from the throne of day. 
 
 3. Away I spring with a tireless wing, 
 On a feathery cloud I poise and swing ; 
 
 I dart down the steep where the lightnings leap, 
 And the clear, blue canopy swiftly sweep ; 
 For, dear to me is the revelry 
 Of a free and fearless Liberty. 
 
 4. I love the land where the mountains stand. 
 Like the watch-towers high of a Patriot band ; 
 For I may not bide in my glory and pride. 
 Though the land be never so fair and wide, 
 Where Luxury reigns o'er voluptuous plains. 
 And fetters the free-born soul in chains. 
 
 5. Then give to me in my flights to see 
 The land of the pilgrims ever free I 
 
 And I never will rove from the haunts I love. 
 But watch, from my sentinel-track above. 
 Your banner free, o'er land and sea. 
 And exult in your glorious Liberty. 
 
 6. O, guard ye well the land where I dwell, 
 Lfest to future times the tale I tell, 
 When slow expires in smoldering fires 
 The goodly heritage of your sires, — 
 How Freedom's light rose clear and bright 
 O'er fair Columbia's beacon-hight. 
 
 Till ye quenched the fl^me in a starless night. 
 
302 SANDERS' UNIOrf SERIES. 
 
 7. Then will I tear from your pennon fair 
 The stars ye have set in triumph there ; 
 My olive-brancli on the blast I'll launch, 
 The fluttering stripes from the flagstaff wrench, 
 And away I'll flee ; for I scorn to see 
 A craven race in the land of the free ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. "Where does the eagle build its nest? 2. Describe its 
 flights. 3. Where does it love to dwell ? 4. Of what is the eagie a type ? 
 5. What warning does it give to the people of this country ? 6. What is 
 there peculiar in the construction of the firsts third, and mth lines of each 
 verse ? 
 
 LESSON LXXXVIII. 
 
 %.^' THEM, ode ; song. ( TJ' Ni verse, whole creation. 
 
 Daunt' less, bold ; fearless. \ Baf' fled, frustrated. 
 
 Wag ED, carried on. j Ty ran' nic, oppressive ; despotic. 
 
 Un 4w' ED, undismayed. \ Curb, check ; restrain. 
 
 Scroll, roll of paper ; document. I Sue geed' iNa, following. 
 
 Count' less, unnumbered. > Hurl' ed, thrown. 
 
 Roy' al, regal ; noble. > Peal' ed, resounded. 
 
 ^ Hel' les PONT, now the Dardanelles, a narrow strait between Asia and 
 Europe. 
 
 ' Xer' xes, {zerJcs' ees,} the celebrated king of Persia, during his famous 
 expedition into Glreece, caused two bridges to be thrown over the Helles- 
 pont; but the work was not strong enough to resist a violent storm which 
 broke it to pieces, soon after it was finished. This was about the year 480 
 before Christ. 
 
 THE ARMY OF REFORM* 
 
 Sakah Jaxe Lippincott. 
 
 1. Yes, ye are few, — and they were few ^ 
 Who, daring storm and sea, 
 Once raised upon old Plymouth rock 
 *' The anthem of the free." 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 3Q3 
 
 2. And they were few at Lexington, 
 
 To battle, or to die, — 
 That lightning-flash, that thunder-peal, 
 Told that the storm was nigh. 
 
 3. And they were few^ who dauntless stood, 
 ^ Upon old Bunker' shight, 
 
 And waged with Britain's strength and pride 
 The fierce, unequal fight. 
 
 4. And they were few, who, all unawed 
 
 Bj kingly " rights divine," 
 The Declaration, rebel scroll ;* 
 Untrembling dared to sign. 
 
 5. Yes, ye are few ; for one proud glance 
 
 Can take in all your band, 
 Aa now against a countless host, 
 Firm, true, and calm, ye stand. 
 
 6. Unmoved by Folly's idiot laugh. 
 
 Hate's curse, or Envy's frown, — 
 Wearing your rights as royal robes. 
 Your manhood as a crown, — 
 
 7. With eyes whose gaze, unvailed by mists. 
 
 Still rises, clearer, higher, — 
 With stainless hands, and lips that Truth 
 Hath touched with living fire, — 
 
 * The reference is to the Declaration of Independence, made July 4th, 
 
304 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 8. With one high hope, that ever shines 
 
 Before jou as a star, — 
 One prayer of faith, one fount of strength, 
 A glorious few ye are ! 
 
 9. Ye dare not fear, je can not fail, 
 
 Your destiny ye bind 
 To that sublime, eternal law * 
 
 That rules the march of mind. 
 
 10. See yon bold eagle toward the sun 
 
 Now rising free and strong, 
 And see yon mighty river roll 
 Its soundinor tide along ! 
 
 11. Ah ! yet near earth the eagle tires. 
 
 Lost in the sea, the river ; 
 But naught can stay the human mindj — 
 ' Tis upward, onward, ever ! 
 
 12. It yet shall tread the starlit paths, 
 
 By highest angels trod, 
 And pause but at the farthest world 
 In the universe of God. 
 
 13. 'Tis said that Persia's baffled king, 
 
 In mad, tyrannic pride, 
 Cast fetters on the Hellespont,' 
 To curb its swelling tide : 
 
 14. But freedom's own true spirit heaves 
 
 The bosom of the main; 
 It tossed those fetters to the skies, 
 And bounded on again ! 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 3Q5 
 
 15. The scorn of each succeeding age 
 
 On Xerxes' ' head was hurled, 
 And o'er that foolish deed has pealed 
 
 The long laugh of a world. ! 
 
 16. Thus, thus, defeat, and scorn, and shame, 
 
 Is his^ who strives to bind 
 The 7^estless, leaping ivaves of thought^ 
 The free tide of the mind. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Who raised the anthem of the free on Plymouth Rock ? 
 2. What is said of the few on Bunker's Hight ? 3, How many signed the 
 Declaration of Independence ? Ans. 56. 4. What is said of the eagle ? 5. 
 Of the human mind ? 6. Of Freedom ? T. Where is the Hellespont ? 
 
 LESSON LXXXIX. 
 
 Fresh' en ed, grew brisk or strong, j De vot' ed, doomed ; ill-fated. 
 
 Fit' ful ly, at intervals. Thwarts, seats placed across a boat 
 
 In di ca' tion, sign ; token. Guar' an ty, warrant. 
 
 En thu' $i a$m, strong feeling. In ev' i ta bly, certainly ; surely. 
 
 Ap pre hend' ing, fearing. Ac cu' mu la ted, collected ; heaped. 
 
 A ban' DON, give up; forsake. | Stan'chion, (stow' s/iww,) small post. 
 
 Haw' ser$, cables ; large ropes. \ Yi' ed, strove ; contended. 
 
 Vol UN teer' ed, offered willingly, j Dis'lo gated, out of joint; disjointed. 
 
 In'terval, intervening time. i Am'putated, cutoff. 
 
 THE LAST CRUISE OF THE MONITOR* 
 
 Gkeitvi^le M. Wei:j»%. 
 
 1. On the afternoon of December 29th, 1862, she put on 
 steam, and, in tow of the "Rhode Island," passed Fortress 
 Monroe, and out to sea. As we gradually passed out, the 
 wind freshened somewhat ; but the sun went down in glo- 
 rious clouds of purple and crimson, and the night was fair 
 
306 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 and calm above us, though, in the interior of our little ves- 
 sel, the air had already begun to lose its freshness. We suf- 
 fered more or less from its closeness through the night, and 
 woke in the morning to find it heavy with impurity, from 
 the breaths of some sixty persons, composing the officers and 
 crew. 
 
 2. Sunshine found us on deck, enjoying pure air^ and 
 watching the east. During the night we had passed Cap3 
 Henry, and now, at dawn, found ourselves on the ocean, — 
 the land only a blue line in the distance. A few more hours, 
 and that had vanished. No sails were visible; and the 
 Passaic, which we had noticed the evening before, was now 
 out of sight. The morning and afternoon passed quietly ; wo 
 spent most of our time on deck, on account of the confined 
 air below, and, being on a level with the sea, with the spray 
 dashing over us occasionally, amused ourselves with noting 
 its shifting hues and forms, from the deep green of the first 
 long roll, to the foam-crest and prismatic tints of the falling 
 wave. 
 
 3. As the afternoon advanced, the freshening wind, the 
 thickening clouds, and the increasing roll of the sea, gave 
 those most accustomed to ordinary ship-life, some new expe- 
 riences. Tiie little vessel plunged through the rising waves, 
 instead of riding them, and, as they increased in violence, lay, 
 as it were, under their Crests, which washed over her contin- 
 ually ; so that, even when we considered ourselves safe, the 
 appearance was that of a vessel sinking. 
 
 4. "I'd rather go to sea in a diving-bell !" said one, as 
 the waves dashed over the pilot-house, and the little craft 
 seemed buried in water. ''Give me an oyster-scow !" cried 
 another, — "any thing! only let it be wood, and something 
 that will float over, instead of 2mder the water !" Still 
 she plunged on; and about 6.30 p.m., we made Cape 
 
KrUMBER FOUR gQj 
 
 Hatteras ; in half an hour we had rounded the point. A 
 general hurrah went up, — "Hurrah for the first iron-clad 
 that ever rounded Cape Hatteras! Hurrah for the little 
 boat that is first in every thing !" 
 
 5. At half-past seven, a heavy shower fell, lasting about 
 twenty minutes. At this time the gale increased ; black, 
 heavy clouds covered the sky, through which the moon glit- 
 tered fitfully, allowing us to see in the dist;ince a long line 
 of white, plunging foam rushing toward us, — sure indication, 
 to a sailor's eye, of a stormy time. A gloom overhung 
 every thing ; the banks of cloud seemed to settle around us ; 
 the moan of the ocean grew louder and more fearful. Still 
 our little boat pushed doggedly on : victorious through all, 
 we thought that here, too, she would conquer, though the 
 beatincr waves sent shudders through her whole frame. 
 
 6. An hour passed ; the air below, which had all day 
 been increasing in closeness, was now almost stifling ; but our 
 men lost no courage. Some sang as they worked ; and the 
 cadence of their voices, mingling Avith the roar of waters, 
 sounded like a defiance to Ocean. Some stationed them- 
 selves on top of the turret, and a general enthusiasm filled 
 all breasts, as huge waves, twenty feet high, rose up on all 
 sides, hung suspended for a moment like jaws open to 
 devour, and then, breaking, gnashed over in foam from side 
 to side. 
 
 7. Those of us new to the sea, and not apprehending our 
 peril, hurrahed for the largest wave ; but the captain and 
 one or two others, old sailors, knowing its power, grew mo- 
 mentarily more and more anxious, feeling, with a dread 
 instinctive to the sailor, that, in case of extremity, no wreck 
 yet known to ocean, could be so hopeless as this. Solid iron 
 from keelson to turret-top, clinging to any thing for safety, 
 if the ' ' Monitor' ' should go down, would only insure a share 
 
308 SANDEKS' UKIOX SERIES. 
 
 in her fate. No mast, no spar, no floating thing, to meet 
 the outstretched hand in the last moment. 
 
 8. The sea gathered force from each attack. Thick and 
 fast came the blows on the iron mail of the " Monitor," and 
 still the brave little vessel held her own, until, at half-past 
 eight, the engineer, faithful to the end, reported a leak. The 
 pumps were instanily set in motion, and we watched their 
 progress with an intense interest. She had seemed to us 
 like an old-time knight, in armor, battling against fearful 
 odds, but still holding his ground. We who watched, when 
 the blow came which made the strong man reel and the life- 
 blood spout, felt our hearts faint within us ; then, again, 
 ground was gained, and the fight went on, the water lower- 
 ing somewhat under the laboring pumps. 
 
 9. From nine to ten it kept pace with them. From ten 
 to eleven the sea increased in violence, the waves now dash- 
 ing entirely over the turret, blinding the eyes, and causing 
 quick catchings of the breath, as they swept against us. At 
 ten the engineer had reported the leak a^ gaining on us ; at 
 half-past ten, with several pumps in constant motion, one of 
 which threw out three thousand gallons a minute, the water 
 was rising rapidly, and nearing the fires. When these were 
 reached, the vessel's doom was sealed ; for, with their ex- 
 tinction, the pumps must cease, and all hope of keeping the 
 
 "Monitor" above water more than an hour or two, expired. 
 
 10. Our knight had received his death-blow, and lay 
 struggling and helpless under the power of a stronger than 
 he. A consultation was held, and, not without a conflict of 
 feeling, it was decided that signals of distress should be made. 
 Ocean claimed our little vessel, and her trembling frame and 
 failing fire proved she would soon answer his call ; yet a 
 pang went through us, as we thought of the first iron-clad 
 lying alone at the bottom of this stormy sea, her guns 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 3Q9 
 
 silenced, herself a useless mass of metal. Each quiver of 
 her strong frame seemed to plead with us not to abandon her. 
 
 11. The work she had done, the work she ivas to do, rose 
 before us : might there not be a possibility of saving her yet? 
 Her time could not have come so soon. But we who de- 
 scended for a moment to the cabin, knew, by the rising 
 water through which we waded, that the end was near. 
 Small time was there for regrets. Rockets were thrown up, 
 and answered by the "Rhode Island," whose brave men 
 prepared at once to lower boats, though, in that wild sea, it 
 was almost madness. 
 
 12. The "Monitor" had been attached to the "Rhode 
 Island" by two hawsers, one of which had parted at about 
 seven p.m. The other remained firm ; but now it was 
 necessary it should be cut. How was that possible, when 
 every wave Avashed clean over the deck ? What man could 
 reach it alive ? "Who'll cut the hawser?" shouted Cap- 
 tain Bankhead. Acting-master Stodder volunteered, and 
 was followed by another. Holding by one hand to the ropes 
 at her side, they cut through, by many blows of the hatchet, 
 the immense rope which united the vessels. Stodder re- 
 turned in safety, but his brave companion was washed over, 
 and went down. 
 
 13. Meanwhile the boat launched from the " Rhode 
 Island," had started, manned by a crew of picked men. A 
 mere heroic impulse could not have accomplished this most 
 noble deed. For hours they had watched the raging sea. 
 Their captain and they knew the danger ; every man who 
 entered that boat, did it at the peril of his life ; and yet all 
 were ready. Are not such acts as these convincing proofs 
 of the divinity of human nature'? We watched her with 
 straining eyes ; for few thought she could live to reach us. 
 She neared ] we were sure of her, thank Heaven I 
 
310 SABTDJERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 14. In this interval, the cut hawser had become entangled 
 in the paddle-wheel of the " Rhode Island," and she drifted 
 down upon us ; we, not knowing this fact, supposed her 
 coming to our assistance; but a moment undeceived us. 
 The launch sent to our relief was now between us and her, 
 — too near for safety. The steamer bore swiftly down, stern 
 first, upon our starboard quarter. ^^Keep off ! keep offT 
 we cried, and then first saw she was helpless. 
 
 15. Even as we looked, the devoted boat was caught 
 between the steamer and the iron-clad, — a sharp sound of 
 crushing wood was heard, — thwarts, oars, and splinters flew 
 in air, — the boat's crew leaped to the "Monitor's "deck. 
 Death stared us in the face ; our iron prow must go through 
 the Rhode Island's side, — and then an end to all. One 
 awful moment we held our breath, — then the hawser was 
 cleared, — the steamer moved off, as it were, step by step, 
 first one, then another, till a ship's length lay between-us, 
 and then we breathed freely. 
 
 16. But the boat ! — had she gone to the bottom, carrying 
 brave souls with her' ? No^ ; there she lay, beating against 
 our iron sides ; but still, though bruised and broken, a life- 
 boat to us. There was no hasty scramble for life when it 
 was found she floated, — all held back. The men kept steady 
 on at their work of bailing, — only those leaving, and in the 
 order named, whom the captain bade save themselves. The^r 
 descended from the turret to the deck with mingled fear and 
 hope, for the waves tore from side to side, and the coolest 
 head and bravest heart could not guaranty safety. Some 
 were washed over as they left the turret, and, with a vain 
 clutch at the iron deck, a wild throwing up of the arms, 
 went down, their death-cry ringing in the ears of their com- 
 panions. 
 
 17. The boat sometimes held her place by the " Monitor's '' 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 311 
 
 Bide, then was dashed hopelessly out of reach, rising and 
 falling on the waves. A sailor would spring from the deck 
 to reach her, to be seen for a moment in mid-air, and then, 
 as she rose, fall into her. So she gradually filled up ; but 
 some poor souls who sought to reach her, failed, even as they 
 touched her receding sides, and went down. We had a little 
 messenger-boy, the special charge of one of our sailors, and 
 the pet of all ; he must inevitably have been lost, but for the 
 care of his adopted father, who, holding him firmly in his 
 arms, escaped, as by a miracle, being washed overboard, but 
 finally succeeded in placing him safely in the boat. 
 
 18. The last but one to make the desperate venture, was 
 the surgeon ; he leaped from the deck, at the very instant 
 when the boat was being swept away by the merciless sea. 
 Making one final effort, he threw his body forward as he 
 fell, striking across the boat's side so violently, it was thought 
 some of his ribs must be broken. " Haul the Doctor in f 
 shouted Lieutenant Greene, perhaps remembering how, a 
 little time back, he himself, almost gone down in the un- 
 known sea, had been "hauled in" by a quinine rope flung 
 him by the Doctor. Stout sailor-arms pulled him in ; one 
 more sprang to a place in her, and the boat, now full, pushed 
 off, — in a sinking condition, it is true, but still bearing hope 
 with her, for she loas vwod. 
 
 19. Over the waves we made little progress, though pull- 
 ing for life. The men stuffed their pea-jackets into the leaks, 
 and bailed incessantly. We neared the " Rhode Island ;" but 
 now a new peril appeared. Right down upon our center, 
 borne by the might of the rushing water, came the whale- 
 boat sent to rescue others from the iron-clad. We barely 
 floated ; if she struck us with her bows full on us, we must 
 go to the bottom. One sprang, and, as she neared, with out- 
 stretched arms, met and turned her course. She passed 
 
312 SA^^DERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 against us, and his hand, caught between the two boats, was 
 crushed, and the arm, wrenched from its socket, fell a help- 
 less weight against his side ; but life remained. We were 
 saved, and an arm was a small price to paj for life. 
 
 20. We reached the ''Rhode Island;" ropes were flung 
 Over her side, and caught with a death -grip. Some lost 
 their hold, were washed away, and again dragged in bj t'le 
 boat's crew. What chance had one whose right arm hung a 
 dead weight, when strong men with their two hands, went 
 down before him ? He caught at a rope, found it impossible 
 to save himself alone, and then for the first time said, — " I 
 am injured; can any one help me ?" Ensign Taylor, at the 
 risk of his own life, brought the rope around his should,er 
 in such a way that it could not slip, and he was drawn up 
 in safety, 
 
 21. In the mean time, the wliale-boat, which had nearly 
 caused our destruction, had reached the side of the " Mon- 
 itor;" and now the captain said, " It is madness to remain 
 here longer : let each man save himself." For a moment, he 
 descended to the cabin for a coat, and his faithful servant 
 followed to secure a jewel-box, containing the accumulated 
 treasure of years. A sad, sorry sight it- was ! In the heavy 
 air the lamps burned dimly, and the water, waist-deep, 
 splashed sullenly against the sides of the wardroom. One 
 lingering look, and he left the " Monitor's" cabin forever ! 
 
 22. Time was precious ; he hastened to the deck, w^here, 
 in the midst of a terrible sea, Lieutenant Greene nobly held 
 his post. He seized the rope from the whale-boat, wound it 
 about an iron stanchion, then around his wrists, and, by this 
 means, was drawn aboard the boat. Thus, one by one, watch- 
 ing their time between the waves, the men filled in, and, at 
 last, after making all effort for others, and none for them- 
 selves, Captain Bankliead and Lieutenant Greene took their 
 
ISrTTHBER FOUR. gjg 
 
 places in the boat. The gallant Brown pushed off, and soon 
 had his boat-load safe upon the " Khode Island's " deck. 
 
 23. Here the heartiest and most tender reception met us. 
 Our drenched clothing was replaced by warm and drj gar- 
 ments, and all on board vied with each other in acts of kind- 
 ness. The only one who had received any injury, Surgeon 
 Weeks,* w^as carefully attended to, the dislocated arm set, 
 and the crushed fingers amputated, by the gentlest and most 
 considerate of surgeons. Dr. Webber, of the " Rhode Island.'' 
 
 24. For an hour or more we watched, from the deck of 
 the steamer, the lonely lightupon th6"Monitor's''turrefs;a 
 hundred times we thought it gone forever, — a hundred times 
 it reappeared, till, at last, about two o'clock, Wednesday 
 morning, December 31st, it sank, and we saw it no more. 
 An actor in the scenes of that wild night, when the ^' Mon- 
 itor" went down, relates the story of her iast cruise. Her 
 work is now over. She lies a hundred fathoms deep under 
 the stormy waters off Cape Hatteras ; but she has made her- 
 self a name, which will not soon be forgotten by the Amer- 
 ican people. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "When and whero was the Monitor lost ? 2. "What signal 
 service had she rendered ? 3. Who was the writer of this account ? 
 
 LESSON XO. 
 
 Re spox si eil' i tie$, obligations 5 "Wan' ton ly, wastefully. 
 
 La' tent, secret ; hidden. \ Sheen, brightness. 
 
 In iq' ui ty, wickedness. \ Shim' mer, glitter ; gleam. 
 
 Ef feci' ite, powerful ; efficient < Re ver' sign, future possession. 
 
 Reg' ti tude, right. \ In sid' i ous, crafty ; deceitful 
 
 Pen' e TRA tive, entering; piercing. } A thw^vrt', across. 
 
 Mai/ ICE, ill-will; hatred. < Sus'tenange, food; support. 
 
 Ciiiv' al ry, heroism ; valor. ) Im po$' ed, laid on ; assigned. 
 
 * The writer of this account, 
 4U U 
 
314 SANDERS' UNION SETIIES. 
 
 DUTIES AND RESPONSIBIlcITIES OF WOMAN* 
 
 Gail Hamilton. 
 
 1. Oh, if this latent power could be aroused ! If woman 
 would shake off this slumber, and put on her strength, her 
 beautiful garments, how would she go forth conquering and 
 to conquer ! How would the mountains break forth into 
 singing, and the trees of the field clap their hands ! How 
 would our sin-stained earth arise and shine, her light being 
 come, and the glory of the Lord being risen upon her ! 
 
 2. One can not do the world's work ; but one can do ones 
 work. You may not be able to turn the world from in- 
 iquity ; but you can, at leasts keep the dust and rust from 
 gathering on your own soul. If you can not be directly and 
 actively engaged in fighting the battle, you can, at least,- 
 polish your armor and sharpen your weapons, to strike an 
 effective blow when the hour comes. You can stanch the 
 blood of him who has been wounded in the fray, — bear a 
 cup of cold water to the thirsty and fainting, — give help to 
 the conquered, and smiles to the victor. 
 
 3. You can gather from the past and the present stores of 
 wisdom, so that, when the future demands it, you may bring 
 forth from your treasures things new and old. Whatever of 
 bliss the " Divinity that shapes our ends" may see fit to 
 withhold from you, you are but very little lower than the 
 angels, so long as you have the 
 
 " Godlike power to do, — the godlike aim to know." 
 
 4. You can be forming habits of self-reliance, sound judg- 
 ment, perseverance, and endurance, which may, one day, 
 stand you in good stead. You can so train yourself to right 
 thinking and right acting, that uprightness shall be your 
 nature, truth your impulse. His head is seldom far wrong, 
 whose heart is always xight. We bow down to mental great- 
 
NUMBER FOUR. g;J^g 
 
 ness, intellectual strength, and they are divine gifts; but 
 moral rectitude is stronger than they. It is irresistible, — 
 always in the end triumphant. 
 
 5. There is in (/oodness a penetrative power that nothing 
 can withstand. Cunning and malice melt away before its 
 mild, open, steady glance. Not alone on the fields where 
 chivalry charges for laurels, with helmet and breastplate and 
 lance in rest, can the true knight exultingly exclaim, 
 
 "My strength is as the strength of ten, 
 Because my heart is pure ;" 
 
 but wherever man meets man, wherever there is a prize to 
 be won, a goal to be reached. Wealth, and rank, and beauty, 
 may form a brilliant setting to the diamond ; but they only 
 expose more nakedly the false glare of the paste. Only 
 when the king's daughter is all glbrious within, is it fitting 
 and proper that her clothing should be of wrought gold. 
 
 6. From the great and good of all ages rings out the same 
 monotone. The high-priest of Nature, the calm-eyed poet 
 who laid ms heart so close to hers, that they seemed to throb 
 in one pulsation, yet whose ear was always open to the ''still 
 Bad music of humanity," has given us the promise of his 
 life-long wisdom in these grand words : — 
 
 " True dignity abides with him alone 
 "Who, in the silent hour of inward thought 
 Can still suspect and still revere himself." 
 
 7. Through the din of twenty rolling centuries, pierces 
 the sharp, stern voice of the brave old Greek : ^'Let every 
 man, when he is about to do a wicked action, above all 
 things in the worlds stand in awe of himself, a?id dread 
 the witness within himV All greatness, and all glory, all 
 that earth haa to give, all that Heaven can proffer, lies within 
 
316 SAISTDERS' UNIOISr SERIES. 
 
 the reach of the lowliest as well as the highest ; for He who 
 spake as never man spake, has siid that the very " kingdom 
 of God is within you." 
 
 8. Born to such an inheritance, will you wantonly cast it 
 away' ? With such a goal in prospect, will you suffer your- 
 self to be turned aside by the sheen and shimmer of tinsel 
 fruit'? With earth in possession, and Heaven in. reversion, 
 will you go sorrowing and downcast, because here and then 
 a pearl or ruby fails you' ? Nay, rather forgetting those 
 things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those which 
 are before, press forward ! 
 
 9. Discontent and murmuring are insidious foes ; trample 
 them under your feet. Utter no complaint, whatever betide ; 
 for complaining is a sign of weakness. If your trouble can 
 be helped, help it ; if not, bear it. You can be whatever 
 you will to be. Therefore, form and accomplish worthy pur- 
 poses. 
 
 10. If you walk alone, let it be with no faltering tread. 
 Show to an incredulous world 
 
 " How grand may bo Life's might, 
 "Without Love's circling crown." 
 
 Or, if the golden thread of love shine athwart the dusky 
 warp of duty, if other hearts depend on yours for sustenance 
 and strength, give to them from your fullness no stinted 
 measure. Let the dew of your kindness fall on the evil and 
 the good, on the just and on the unjust. 
 
 11. Compass happiness, since happiness alone is victory. 
 On the fragments of your shattered plans, and hopes, and 
 love, — on the heaped-up ruins of your past, rear a stately 
 palace, whose top shall reach unto heaven, whose beauty 
 shall gladden the eyes of all beholders, whose doors shall 
 stand wide open to receive the way-worn and weary. Life is 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 817 
 
 a burden, but it is imposed by God. What you make of it, it 
 will be to you, whether a millstone about your neck, or a 
 diadem upon your brow. Take it up bravely ^ bear it on 
 joyfully^ lay it down ii^iumphantly. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What are some of the duties of women ? 2. What is 
 eaid of goodness ? 3. What was the adage of the old Greek ? 4. What is 
 said of discontent and murmuring ? 
 
 LESSON XOI. 
 
 Id' I OT, one devoid of reason. 
 
 Hor' ri ble, awful ; dreadful. 
 
 Woe' ful, afflicted. 
 
 Har' row, disturb ; harass. 
 
 Pre $erve'', safely keep. 
 
 Sooth, fact; truth. 
 
 Spoil' ed, stripped ; plundered. 
 
 Tearn' ing, longing. 
 
 In suf' fer a ble, intolerable. 
 
 Pas' time, amusement; diversion. 
 Can' ton, district; region. 
 Es pi' ed, saw ; discovered. 
 Mount ain eer', dweller on a mount- 
 Br4Wn' y, strong ; firm. [ain. 
 
 Fag' ots, bundles of sticks. 
 Aug ment', increase ; make larger. 
 Bea' con, signal-fire. 
 Be tide', happen ; befaU. 
 
 SCENE FROM WILLIAM TELL. 
 
 J. Shekidan Kno-wlbi. 
 
 Emma. I never knew a weary night before I 
 I have seen the sun a dozen times go down, 
 And still no William, — and the storm was on, 
 Yet have I laid me down in peace to sleep. 
 The mountain with the lightning all a-blaze, 
 And shaking with the thunder, — but to-night 
 Mine eyes refuse to close, {si) The old man rests : 
 Pain hath outworn itself, and turned to ease. 
 How deadly calm's the night! (") What's that? I'm grPwn 
 An idiot with my fears. I do not know, — 
 
318 SANDERS' UNION SERIES.   
 
 The avalanche ! Great Power that hurls it down, 
 Watch o'er my boj, and guide his little steps ! 
 What keeps him? 'tis but four hours' journey hence: 
 He'd rest ; then foar hours back again. What keeps him ? 
 Erni would sure be found by him, — he knows 
 The track, well as he knows the road to Altorf 1 
 
 Melchtal. Help ! {i7i his sleep.) 
 
 Emma. What's the matter ? Only the old man dreaming : 
 He thinks again they're pulling out his eyes. 
 I'm sick with terror ! Merciful powers ! what's this 
 That fills my heart with horrible alarm ? 
 And yet it can not see. 
 
 Melch. {waking.) Where am I? 
 
 Emma. Father' ! 
 
 Melch. My daughter, is it thou'? Thank Heaven, I^m 
 here ! Is't day yet' ? 
 
 Emma. No^ 
 
 Melch. Is't far on the night' ? 
 
 Emma. Me thinks, about the turn on 't. 
 
 Melch. Is the boy 
 Come back' ? 
 
 Emma. No\ father'. 
 
 Melch. Nor thy husband'? 
 
 Emma. No\ 
 
 Melch. A woeful wife and mother have I made thee ! 
 Would thou hadst never seen me. 
 
 Emma. Father' I 
 
 Melch. Child'! 
 
 Einma. Methinks I hear a step ! — I do I {knocki7ig.) A 
 knock ! 
 
 Melch. 'Tis William I 
 
 Emma. No; it is not William's knock. {Opens the 
 door.) I told you so. Your will ? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 219 
 
 Enter Stranger. 
 
 Stran. Seeing a light, 
 I e'en made bold to knock, to ask for shelter ; 
 For I have missed my way. 
 
 Emma. Whence come you\ friend' ? 
 
 Sti^an. From Altorf. 
 
 Emma. Altorf! Any news from thence'? 
 
 Stran. Ay^ ! News to harrow parents' hearts, and make 
 The barren bless themselves that they are childless ! 
 
 Emma. May Heaven preserve my boy ! 
 
 Melch. What say'st thy news ? 
 
 Stran. Art thou not Melchtal — he whose eyes, 'tis said, 
 The tyrant has torn out' ? 
 
 Melch. Yes\ friend', the same. 
 
 Stran. Is this thy cottage' ? 
 
 Melch. No' ; tis William Tell's. 
 
 Stran. 'Tis William Toll's — and that's his wife— Good- 
 
 Emma. (^Rushing between him, and the door.) [night. 
 Thou stirr'st not hence until thy news be told ! 
 
 Stran. My news ! In sooth 'tis nothing thou wouldst heed. 
 
 Emma. 'Tis something none should heed so well as I ! 
 
 Stran. I must be gone. 
 
 Emma. Thou seest a tigress, friend, 
 Spoiled of her mate and young, and yearning for them. 
 Don' t thwart her ! Come, thy news ! What fear' st thou, man ? 
 What more hath she to dread, who reads thy looks. 
 And knows the most has come ? Thy news ! Is't bondage' ? 
 
 Stran. It is. 
 
 Emma. Thank Heaven, it is not death I Of one— 
 Or two ? 
 
 Stran. Of two. 
 
 Emma. A father and a son, 
 Is't not ? 
 
320 SANDERS' UNION SEKIJES. 
 
 Straji. It is. 
 
 Emma. My husband and my son 
 Are in the tyrant's power ! There's worse than that I 
 What's that is news to» harrow parents' breasts, 
 The which the thought to only tell, 'twould seem, 
 Drives back the blood to thine ? — Thy news, I say I 
 Wouldst thou be merciful, this is not mercy ! 
 Wast thou the mark, friend, of the bowman's aim, 
 Wouldst thou not have the fatal arrow speed, 
 Rather than watch it hanging in the string ? 
 Thou'lt drive me mad ! Let fly at once ! 
 
 Melch. Thy news from Altorf, friend, whate'er it is ! 
 
 Slran. To save himself and child from certain death, 
 Tell is to hit an apple, to be placed 
 Upon the stripling's head. 
 
 Melch. My child ! my child ! 
 Speak to me ! Stranger, has thou killed her ? 
 
 Emma. No ! 
 No\ father'. I'm the wife of William Tell ; 
 Oh, but to be a man ! to bive an arm 
 To fit a heart swelling with the sense of wrong I 
 Unnatural — insufferable wrong ! 
 When makes the tyrant trial of his skill ? 
 
 jStran, To-morrow. 
 
 Emma. Spirit of the lake and hill, 
 Inspire thy daughter ! On the head of him 
 Who makes his pastime of a mother's pangs. 
 Launch down thy vengeance by a mother's hand. 
 Know'st the signal when the hills shall rise' ? ( To Melchtal.) 
 
 Melch. Are they to rise' ? 
 
 Emma. I see thou knowest naught. 
 
 Stran. Something's on foot ! 'Twas only yesterday, 
 That, traveling from our canton, I espied 
 
JfUMBER FOUR. 322 
 
 Slow toiling up a steep, a mountaineer 
 Of brawny limb, upon bis back a load 
 Of fagots bound. Curious to see what end 
 Was worthy of such labor, after him 
 I took the cliff ; and saw its loft j top 
 Keceive his load, which went but to augment 
 A pile of many another. 
 
 Emma. 'Tis by fire ! 
 Fire is the signal for the bills to rise ! {Rushes out.) 
 
 Melch. Went she not forth ? 
 
 Stran. She did, — she's here again, 
 And brings with her a lighted brand. 
 
 Melch. My child, 
 What dost thou with a lighted brand ? 
 
 {Re-enter Emma with a brands ) 
 
 Emma. Prepare 
 To give the signal for the hills to rise ! 
 
 Melch. Wliere are the fagots, child, for such a blaze ? 
 
 ^mma. I'll find the fagots, father. {^Exit.y 
 
 Melch. She's gone 
 Again I 
 
 Stran. She is, — I think iito he" chamber. 
 
 Emma. {Rushing i?i.) — Father, the pile is fired I 
 
 Melch. What pile, my child ? 
 
 Emma. The joists and rafters of our cottage^ father ! 
 
 Melch. Thou hast not fired thy cottage?— but thou hast; 
 Alas, I hear the crackling of the flames ! 
 
 Emma. Say'st thou, alas ! when I do say, thank Heaven, 
 Father, this blaze will set the land a-blaze 
 With fire that shall preserve, and not destroy it. 
 (/.) Blaze on I blaze on ! Oh, may'st thou be a beacon 
 To light its sons enslaved to liberty ! 
 4U U* 
 
g22 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 How fast it spreads ! A spirit's in the fire : 
 
 It knows the work it does. — {Goes to the door, and opens it.) 
 
 The land is free ! 
 Yonder' s another blaze ! Bejond that, shoots 
 Another up ! — Anon will everj hill 
 Redden with vengeance ! Father, come 1 Whate'er 
 Betides us, worse we're certain can't befall. 
 And better may ! Oh, be it liberty, — 
 Safe hearts and homes, husbands and children ! Come, — 
 It spreads apace, {ff.) Blaze on — blaze on — blaze on ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What rule for the rising inflection on father f See Note L, 
 page 32. 2. "What rule for the falling inflection on no ? See rule I., page 28. 
 
 LESSON XOII. 
 
 HON^ OR A BLE, noble ; illustrious J So' cial familiarc 
 
 In' TEL LECT, mind ; understanding. \ Con fd' sign, fuss ; tumult fence. 
 
 Score, account ; motive. i Con de soen' sign, lowliness ; defer- 
 
 Clev'er, skillful; expert. ) Com pre hen' sign, understanding. 
 
 ' Crce' sus, a very -wealthy king of ancient Lydia, in Asia Minor, was 
 bom about 591 before Christ 
 
 THE RICH MAM AND THE POOR MAN* 
 
 KnEMNlTZKB. 
 
 1. So goes the world^ ; — if wealthy, you may call 
 
 This — friend, that — brother^; — friends and brothers all 
 
 Though you are worthless, witless, — never mind it ; 
 You may have been a stable-boy, — what then? 
 'Tis wealth J my friends, makes honorable men. 
 
 You seek respect, no doubt, and you will find it. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 323 
 
 2. But, if you are poor', heaven help you^ ! though your sire 
 Had royal blood in him\ and though you 
 Possess the intellect of angels too, 
 'Tis all in vain^ ; — the world will ne'er inquire 
 On such a score^ : — why should it take the pains? 
 'TJs easier to weigh purses\ sure, than brains'c 
 
 8. I once saw a poor fellow, keen and clever, 
 Witty and wise^ ; he paid a man a visit, 
 And no one noticed him', and no one ever 
 Gave him a welcome\ ' ' Strange^ " cried I V ' whence is it^ ?" 
 
 He walked on this side', then on that\ 
 
 He tried to introduce a social chat"^ ; 
 Now here', now there\ in vain he tried^ ; 
 Some formally and freezingly replied. 
 And some said by their silence, — " Better stay at home." 
 
 4. A rich man burst the door, 
 
 As Croesus' rich ; — I'm sure 
 He could not pride himself upon his wit^ ; 
 And, as for wisdom, he had none of it^ ; 
 He had what's better\ — he had wealth. 
 
 What a confusion ! — all stand up erect, — 
 These crowd around to ask him of his health ; 
 
 These bow in honest duty and respect; 
 And these arrange a sofa or a chair, 
 And these conduct him there. 
 " Allow me, sir, the honor^ ;" — Then a bow 
 Down to the earth\ — Is^t possible to show 
 Meet gratitude for such kind condescension^ ? 
 
 5. The poor man hung his head. 
 And to himself he said, 
 
 *' This is indeed beyond my comprehension;" 
 
g24 SANDERS' UXIX)N SERIB 
 
 Then looking round, one friendly face he found, 
 And said, — " Pray tell me why is wealth preferred 
 "To wisdom?''— "That's a silly question, friend I" 
 Keplied the other, — '' have you never heard, 
 
 A man may lend his store 
 
 Of gold or silver ore, 
 But wisdom none can borrow, none can lend ?" 
 
 Questions. — 1. How do you account for the different inflections in the last 
 line of the second verse ? See page 31, Note I. 2. What rule for the falling 
 inflection on condescension 1 See page 29, Note I. 
 
 LESSON XOIII. 
 
 Ex HI Bl" TI0N$, displays. \ Re $erv' ed, kept. 
 
 Cm CUM scrib' ed, encompassed. ; En tranc' ed, enraptured, 
 
 Na' vie$, ships of war. [war. \ Prom' on to ry, headland. 
 
 Arm' a ments, forces equipped for ;' Re veal' ed, laid open. 
 
 Im ped' ed. hindered , obstructed. • Sym' bol, token ; sign. 
 
 Le vi' A THAN, hugo sea-monster. • Ad a man' tine, exceedingly hard. 
 
 Mag nif' i cence, grandeur. \ Ap per tain' ing, belonging. 
 
 Un a bat' ed, undimmished. i Trans form' ing, changing. 
 
 * Ac' Ti UM is the ancient name of a promontory of Albania, in Tujrkey 
 in Europ?, near which was fought (b. c. 29) the celebrated naval battle that 
 made Augustus Caesar master of the Roman world. 
 
 ' Sal' a mis, an island opposite Attica, in Greece, near which (b. c. 480) 
 occurred the famous naval engagement which resulted in the defeat of the 
 Persians. 
 
 * Nav a ri' no is a seaport town on the southwestern coast of Greece. 
 It was the scene of the memorable victory of the combined English, French, 
 and Russian fleets over those of the Turks and Egyptians, gained on the 
 20th of October, 1827. 
 
 4 Tra fal gar', a cape on the southwestern coast of Spain. It ls famous 
 for the great naval battle, fought in its vicinity, Oct 21st, 1805, between the 
 fleets of the French and Spanish on the one side, and the English, under Lord 
 'Nelson, on the other. The English were victorious, though Nelson waa 
 laoitall/ wounded. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. g25 
 
 GRANDEUR OF THE OCEAM* 
 
 Walter Colton. 
 
 1. The most fearful and impressive exhibitions of power 
 known to our globe, belong to the ocean. The volcano, with 
 its ascending flame and falling torrents of fire, and the earth- 
 quake, whose footstep is on the ruin of cities, are circum- 
 scribed in the desolating range of their visitations. But 
 the ocean, when it once rouses itself in its chainless strength, 
 shakes a thousand shores with its storm and thunder. 
 Navies of oak and iron are tossed in mockery from its crest, 
 and armaments, manned bj the strength and courage of 
 millions, perish among its bubbles. 
 
 2. The avalanche, shaken from its glittering steep, if it 
 rolls to the bosom of the earth, melts away, and is lost in 
 vapor ; but if it plunge into the embrace of the ocean, this 
 mountain mass of ice and hail is borne about for ages in 
 tumult and terror : it is the drifting monument of the ocean's 
 dead. The tempest on land is impeded by forests, and 
 broken by mountains ; but on the plain of the deep it rushes 
 unresisted ; and when its strength is at last spent, ten thou- 
 sand giant waves still roll its terrors onward. 
 
 0. The mountain lake and the meadow stream are inhab- 
 ited only by the timid prey of the angler ; but the ocean is 
 the home of the leviathan, — his ways are in the mighty 
 deep. The glittering pebble and the rainbow- tinted shell, 
 which the returning tide has left on the shore, and the 
 watery gem which the pearl-diver reaches at the peril of 
 his life, are all that man can filch from the treasures of the 
 sea. The groves of coral which wave over its pavements, 
 and the halls of amber which glow in its depths, are beyond 
 his approaches, save when he goes down there to seek, amid 
 their silent magnificence, his burial monument. 
 
 4. The islands, the continents, the shores of civilized and 
 
326 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 savage realms, the capitals of kings, are worn by time, 
 washed away bj the wave, consumed by the flame, or sunk 
 by the earthquake ; but the ocean still remains, and still rolls 
 on in the greatness of its unabated strength. Over the 
 majesty of its form and the marvel of its might, time and 
 disaster have no power. Such as creation's dawn beheld, 
 it rolleth now. 
 
 5. The vast clouds of vapor which roll up from its bosom, 
 float away to encircle the globe : on distant mountains and 
 deserts they pour out their watery treasures, whfcli gather 
 themselves again in streams and torrents, to return, with 
 exulting bounds, to their parent ocean. These are the mes- 
 sengers which proclaim in every land the exhaustless re- 
 sources of the sea ; but it is reserved for those who go down 
 in ships, and who do business in the great waters, to see the 
 works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep. 
 
 6. Let one go upon deck in the middle watch of a still 
 niojht, with nauorht above him but the silent and solemn 
 skies, and naught around and beneath him but an interminable 
 waste of waters, and with the conviction that there is but a 
 plank between him and eternity, a feeling of loneliness, soli- 
 tude, and desertion, mingled with a sentiment of reverence 
 for the vast, mysterious and unknown, will come upon him 
 with a power, all unknown before, and he might stand for 
 hours entranced in reverence and tears. 
 
 7. Man, also, has made the ocean the theater of his power. 
 The ship in which he rides that element, is one of the highest 
 triumphs of his skill. At first, this floating fabric was only 
 a frail bark, slowly urged by the laboring oar. The sail, at 
 length, arose and spread its wings to the wind. Still he had 
 no power to direct his course when the lofty promontory sunk 
 from sight, or the orbs above him were lost in clouds. But 
 the secret of the magnet is, at length, revealed to him, and 
 
KUMBER FOUR. 
 
 82T 
 
 his needle now settleS; with a fixedness which love has stolen 
 as the symbol of its constancy, to the polar star. 
 
 8. Now, however, he can dispense even with sail, and wind, 
 and flowing wave. He constructs and propels his vast 
 engines of flame and vapor, and^ through the solitude of the 
 sea, as over the solid land, goes thundering on his track. On 
 the ocean, too, thrones have been lost and won. On the fate 
 of Actium' was* suspended the empire of the world. In the 
 gulf of Salamis,'' the pride of Persia found a grave ; and the 
 crescent set forever in the waters of Navarino;' while, at 
 Trafalgar* and the Nile, nations held their breath, 
 
 As each gun, 
 From its adamantino lips, 
 Spread a death-shade round the ships 
 Like the hurricane's eclipse 
 
 Of the sun. 
 
 9. But, of all the wonders appertaining to the ocean, the 
 greatest, perhaps, is its transforming power on man. It 
 unravels and weaves anew the web of his moral and social 
 being. It invests him with feelings, associations, and habits, 
 to which he has been an entire stranger. It breaks up the 
 sealed fountain of his nature, and lifts his soul into features 
 prominent as the cliffs which beetle over its surge. 
 
 10. Once the adopted child of the ocean, he can never 
 bring back his entire sympathies to land. He will still 
 move in his dreams over that vast waste of waters, still 
 bound in exultation and triumph through its foaming bil- 
 lows. All the other realities of life will be comparatively 
 tame, and he will sigh for his tossing element, as the caged 
 eagle for the roar and arrowy light of his mountain cataract. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What is said of the volcano and earthquaka? 2. Of the 
 avalanche and tempest ? 3. Of the ocean ? 4. Of ships ? 5. "Wliere have 
 naval battles been fought ? 6. What influence has the ocean on man ? 
 
328 SANDEKS' UNIOH SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XOIV. 
 
 Re lax' ED, loosened. [tentions. j Un pre tend' ing, unostentatious. 
 As SI Du' I tie$, kind, constant at- ) Ha bil' i ments, vestments. 
 Con sign' ed, committed ; given over | Su per sti" tious, fall of scruples. 
 Ex te' ri or, outer appearance. | Reg' on cf le, make willing. 
 
 Un af fect' ed, sincere. \ Pen' e trates, sees through. 
 
 Per vade', (per, through; vade, go, or pass;) pass through; appear 
 throughout. 
 
 A BURIAL AT SEA. 
 
 Walter Coltox. 
 
 1. Death is a fearful thing, come in -what form it may, — 
 fearfuj, when the vital chords are so gradually relaxed, that 
 life passes away sweetly as music from the slumbering harp- 
 string, — fearful, when in his own quiet chamber, the depart- 
 ing one is summoned by those who sweetly follow him with 
 their prayers, when the assiduities of friendship and affection 
 can go no farther, and who discourse of heaven and future 
 blessedness, till the closing ear can no longer catch the tones 
 of the long-familiar voice, and who, lingering near, still feel 
 for the hushed pulse, and then trace in the placid slumber, 
 which pervades each, feature, a quiet emblem of the spirit 3 
 •serene repose. 
 
 2. What, then, must this dread event be to one, who meets 
 it comparatively alone, far away from the hearth of his 
 home, upon a troubled sea, between the narrow decks of a 
 restless ship, and at that dread hour of night, when even the 
 sympathies of the world seem suspended ! Such has been 
 the end of many who traverse the ocean ; and such was the 
 hurried end of him, whose remains wo have just consigned 
 to a watery grave. 
 
 3. He was a sailor ; but, beneath his rude exterior, he 
 carried a heart touched with refinement, pride, and great- 
 
NUMBER FOUR. g29 
 
 ness. There was something about him, which spoke of better 
 days and a higher destiny. By what errors or misfortunes 
 he was reduced to his humble condition, was a secret which 
 he would reveal to none. Silent, reserved, and thoughtful, 
 he stood a stranger among his free companions, and never 
 was his voice heard in the laughter or the jest. He has 
 undoubtedly left behind many who will long look for his 
 return, and bitterly weep when they are told they shall see 
 his face no more. 
 
 4. As the remains of the poor sailor were brought up on 
 deck, wound in that hammock which, through many a stormy 
 night, had swung to the wind, one could not but observe the 
 big tear that stole unconsciously doAvn the rough cheeks of his 
 hardy companions. When the funeral service was read to 
 that most affecting passage, "we commit this body to the 
 deep,^' and the plank was raised which precipitated to the 
 momentary eddy of the wave the quickly disappearing form, 
 a heavy sigh from those around, told that the strong heart 
 of the sailor can be touched with grief, and that a truly 
 unaffected sorrow may accompany virtue, in its most unpre- 
 tending form, to its ocean grave. Yet how soon is such a 
 scene forgotten ! 
 
 " As from the wing tho sky no scar retains, 
 Tho parted wave no furrow from the keel, 
 So dies in human hearts tho thought of death." 
 
 5. There is something peculiarly melancholy and impress- 
 I've in a burial at sea : there is here no coffin or hearse, 
 procession or tolling bell, — nothing that gradually prepares 
 IS f jr the final separation. The body is w^ound in the drapery 
 of its couch, much as if the deceased were only in a quiet 
 and temporary sleep. In these habiliments of seeming slum- 
 ber, it is dropped into the wave, the waters close over it, the 
 vessel passes quickly on, and not a solitary traco is left to 
 
33Q SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 tell where sunk from light and life, one that loved to look 
 at the sky and breathe this vital air. 
 
 6. There is nothing that, for one moment, can point to 
 the deep, un visited resting-place of the departed, — it is a 
 grave in the midst of the ocean, — in the midst of a vast, 
 untrodden solitude. Affection can not approach it, with its 
 tears; the dews of heaven can not reach it; and there is 
 around it no violet, or shrub, or murmuring stream. 
 
 7. It may be superstitious ; but no advantages of wealth, 
 or honor, or power, through life, would reconcile me at its 
 close to such a burial. I would rather share the coarse and 
 scanty provisions of the simplest cabin, and drop away un- 
 known and unhonored by the world, so that my final resting- 
 place be beneath some green tree, by the side of some living 
 stream, or in some familiar spot, where the few that loved 
 me in life, might visit me in death. 
 
 8. But, whether our grave be in the fragrant shade, or in 
 the fathomless ocean, among our kindred, or in the midst of 
 strangers, the day is coming when we shall all appear at one 
 universal bar, and receive from a righteous Judge the award 
 of our deeds. He that is wisest, penetrates the future the 
 deepest. 
 
 QuESTioxs.— 1. "What is said of death? 2. What, of death at sea? 3. 
 What renders a burial at sea pecuHarly melancholj and impressive ? 
 
 LESSON XOV. 
 
 Mys te' ri ous, secret ; mystical. ( Scorn' ftjl, disdainful 
 
 Un reck' ED, unheeded. \ De cay', ruin ; destruction. 
 
 Ar' go sie$, ships of great burden. I Boom' ing, roaring. 
 
 Wrath' ful, furious ; raging. ) Fes' tal, joyous ; merry. 
 
 Pal' a ce$, splendid mansions. : Re claim', claim again ; recover. 
 
NUMBEXi FOUR, 
 
 331 
 
 THE TREASURES OF THE DEEP* 
 
 Mns. IIemaks. 
 
 1. What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells ? 
 
 Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main ! 
 Pale, glistening pearls, and rainbow-colored shells, 
 
 Bright things which gleam unrecked of, and in vain! 
 Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy seal 
 We ask not such from thee. 
 
 2. Yet more, the depths have more ! what wealth untold, 
 
 Far down, and shining through their stillness lies ! 
 Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold, 
 
 Won from ten thousand royal argosies ! 
 Sweep o'er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main ! 
 Earth claims not these again. 
 
 3. Yet more, the depths have more ! thy waves have rolled 
 
 Above the cities of a world gone by ! 
 Sand hath filled up the palaces of old, 
 
 Sea-weed o'ergrown the halls of revelry. 
 Dash o'er them. Ocean ! in thy scornful play ! 
 Man yields them to decay. 
 
 4. Yet more, the billows and the depths have more I 
 
 High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast : 
 They hear not now the booming waters roar ; 
 
 The battle-thunders will not break their rest. 
 
 Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave ! 
 
 Give back the true and brave ! 
 
 5. Give back the lost and lovely, - — those for whom 
 
 The place was kept at board and hearth so long. 
 
332 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, 
 
 And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song! 
 Hold fast thy buried isles, tby towers o'erthrownj 
 But all is not thine own. 
 
 6. To thee the love of woman hath gone down ; 
 
 Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, 
 O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown, 
 
 Yet must thou hear a voice, — Restore the dead I 
 Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee I 
 Restore the dead^ thou Sea ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What are some of the treasures of the deep? 2. What 
 treasures has the sea won from trading vessels ? 3. Over what does the 
 sea roll ? 4. What does the writer call on the sea to restore ? 
 
 LESSON XOVI. 
 
 Un for' tu NATE, wretched person. | A maze' ment, astonishment. 
 
 Cer' e ments, grave-clothes. \ Dis' so lute, abandoned ; licentious. 
 
 ScRu' Ti NY, inquiry. \ Spur' red, pus^ied on ; impelled. 
 
 Mu' TI NY, resistance to rightful rule. <. Con' tu me ly, scorn ; insult. 
 
 Won' der ment, curiosity. ^ In hu man' i ty, cruel treatment. 
 
 Prov' I DENCE, care ; protection. ; In san' i ty, madness. 
 
 THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS* 
 
 Thomas IIood. 
 
 1. One more Unfortunate, j 3. Look at her garments 
 
 Weary of breath, > Clinging hke cerements ; 
 
 Rashly importunate, | While the wave constantly 
 
 Gone to her death I | Drips from her clothing; 
 
 ^ rr, , , , Take her up mstantly, 
 
 2. Take her up tenderly, ^   . i +t 
 
 ..._ , ^. •" Lovmg, not loathmg. 
 
 Lift her with care, 
 
 Fashioned so slenderly, [ 4. Touch her not scornfully; 
 
 Young, and so fakl ^ Think of her mournfully, 
 
NUMBER FOUK. 
 
 383 
 
 Gently and humanly ; 
 Not of the stains of her; 
 All that remains of her 
 
 Now, IS pure womanly. 
 
 o. Make no deep scrutiny 
 Into her mutiny, 
 
 Eash and undutiful ; 
 Past all dishonor. 
 Death has left on her 
 
 Only the beautiful. 
 
 C. Loop up her tresses 
 
 Escaped from the comb, — 
 Her fair auburn tresses ; 
 While wonderment guesses 
 
 Where Y/as her home ? 
 
 7 Who was her father^ ? 
 
 Who was her mother^? 
 Had she a sister' ? 
 
 Had she a brother' ? 
 Or, was there a dearer one 
 Still, and a nearer one 
 
 Yet, than all other'? 
 
 a Alas I for the rarity 
 Of Christian charity 
 
 Under the sun I 
 Oh ! it was pitiful I 
 Near a whole city full, 
 Home she had none. 
 
 ^i Sisterly, brotherly, 
 Fatlierly, motherly, 
 
 Feelings had changed: 
 Love, by harsh evidenoe. 
 Thrown from its eminence ; 
 Even God's providence 
 
 Seeming estranged. 
 
 10. Where the lamps quiver 
 So far in the river. 
 
 With many a light 
 From window and casement, 
 From garret to basement, 
 She stood with amazement, 
 
 Houseless by night. 
 
 11. The bleak winds of March 
 
 Made her tremble and shiver* 
 But not the dark arch. 
 
 Or the black flowing river ; 
 Mad from life's history. 
 Glad to death's mystery, 
 
 Swift to be hurled — 
 Anywhere, anywhere, 
 
 Out of the world! 
 
 12. In she plunged boldly, 
 No matter how coldly 
 
 The rough river ran — 
 Picture it — think of it. 
 Dissolute Man! 
 
 13. Take her up tenderly, 
 
 Lift her with care, 
 
 Fashioned so slenderly, 
 
 Young, and so fair 1 
 
 14. Perishing gloomily. 
 Spurred by contumely. 
 Cold inhumanity. 
 Burning insanity. 
 
 Into her rest. 
 Cross her hands humbly. 
 As if praying dumbly. 
 
 Over her breast ! 
 
 15. Owning her weakness. 
 
 Her evil behavior, 
 And leaving, with meekness. 
 Her sins to her Savior ! 
 
 *^ 
 
334 SANDERS' USION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON XOVII. 
 
 Be' qui em, hymn in honor of tlie ( Droop, languish ; fail. 
 Wed, joined ; united. [dead. | Af tec' tion, love. 
 
 Hence' FORTH, hereafter. \ Dim'med, dull; obscured. 
 
 A REQUIEM* 
 
 1. Breathe low, thou gentle wind, 
 {pi.) Breathe soft and low; 
 
 The beautiful lies dead ! 
 The joy of life is fled ! 
 And my lone heart is wed 
 Henceforth to woe I 
 
 2. That thou should'st droop and die 
 
 At early morn ! 
 While yet thy graceful dew 
 A joyous fragrance drew 
 From every flower that grew 
 
 Life's path along ! 
 
 8. The green earth mourns for thee, 
 Thou dearest one; 
 A plaintive tone is heard, 
 ' And flower and leaflet stirred, 
 And every fav'rite bird 
 Sings sad and lone. 
 
 4. Pale is thy brow, and dimmed 
 
 Thy sparkling eye ! 
 Affection's sweetest token 
 Is lost fore'er and broken I 
 The last kind word is spoken, — 
 
 Why did' St thou die? 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 335 
 
 5. Breathe low, thou gentle wind. 
 
 Breathe soft and low; 
 The beautiful lies dead ! 
 The jo J of life is fled ! 
 And my lone heart is wed 
 
 Henceforth to woe ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What rule for changing y into i in the word beautiful f 
 See Analysis, page 13, rule XL 2. Why are r and m doubled in the words 
 stirred, dimmed? See Rule IX. 3. What is the meaning of the suffix let, 
 in the word leaflet ? See page 140, Ex. 185. 
 
 LESSON XOVIII. 
 
 Lux u' EI ANT, rich ; plentiful. > Di' A ry, note-book ; journal. 
 
 Un OS TEN ta'tious, plain; not showy. So jouen' ed, resided for a while. 
 
 Rev er en' tial, deeply respectful. Ac cla ma' tion$, shouts. 
 
 Re cep' ta CLE, place of reception, i Tri umph' al, relating to victory. 
 
 Sem' I ciR CLE, half-circle. ^ Grat u la' tion, rejoicing. 
 
 Reg og ni" tion, act of knowing. | In aug u ra' tion, act of investing 
 
 Ag RI cul' tur al, relating to farming. | with office. 
 
 Ben e Die' tion, blessing. > En fran' ciii$ ed, freed ; liberated. 
 
 ^ Sar coph' a gus, (sarco, flesh; and phagus, that which eats or devours,) 
 IS made up of two Greek words, signifying together fl^sh-eaiing, and was 
 applied by the ancients to a species of stone, used for making coffins. Hence, 
 sarcophagus came to signify a stone-coffin. The form of the plural in Latin, 
 is sarcophagi. 
 
 ' Bas' tile, {bos' ieel,) an old state prison in Paris, built iu 1369, and de- 
 Btroyed by a mob in 1789. 
 
 VISIT TO MOUNT VERNON. 
 
 A. C. RiTcniE. 
 
 1. At this moment, we drew near the rude wharf at Mount 
 Vernon ; the boat stopped, and the crowd of passengers 
 landed, Bj a narrow pathway we ascended a majestic hill 
 
336 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 thickly draped with trees. The sun scarcely foifnd its way 
 through the luxuriant foliage. We mounted slowly, but had 
 only spent a few minutes in ascending, when we came sud- 
 denly upon a picturesque nook, where a cluster of unosten- 
 tatious, white marble shafts, shot from the greenly sodded 
 earth, inclosed by iron railings. Those unpretending monu- 
 ments mark the localities where repose the mortal remains 
 of Washington's kindred. 
 
 2. Jast beyond stands a square brick building. In the 
 center you see an iron gate. Here the crowd pauses in rev- 
 erential silence. Men lift their hats and women bow their 
 heads. You behold within, two sarcophagi. \ In those 
 moldering tombs lie the ashes of the great Washington and 
 his wife. Not a word is uttered as the crowd stand gazing 
 on this lowly receptacle of the dust of America's mighty 
 dead. 
 
 3. Are there any in that group who can say, "this was 
 our country's father'?" If there be, can they stand pilgrims 
 at that grave without Washington's examples, his counsels, 
 his words, heretofore, it may be half-forgotten, stealing back 
 into their minds, until the sense of reverence and gratitude 
 is deepened almost to awe' ? Do they not feel that Wash- 
 ington's spirit is abroad in the world, filling the souls of a 
 heaven-favored people with the love of freedom and of coun- 
 try, though his ashes are gathered here'? 
 
 4. Some one moves to pass on ; and, with that first step, 
 the spell is broken; others follow. Herman and Jessie 
 linger last. After a period of mute and moving reflection, 
 they turn away and slowy 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. 
 
NUMBER FOUR, 
 
 837 
 
 6. The water and woodland view from the portico is highly 
 imposing. But it was not the mere recognition of the pictur- 
 esque and beautiful in nature, that moved Herman and 
 Jessie. Thej 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, and here, in boyhood, he 
 had sported with his beloved brother Lawrence. 
 
 6. In those forests, those deep-wooded glens, he had hunted, 
 when a stripling, by the side of old Lord Fairfax ; here he 
 took his first lessons in the art of war ; to this home he 
 brought his bride; by this old-fashioned, hospitable-looking 
 fireside, he sat with that dear and faithful wife ; beneath 
 yonder alley of lofty trees he has often wandered by her side ; 
 here he indulged the agricultural tastes in which he de- 
 lighted ; here resigned his Cincinnatus vocation, and bade 
 adieu to his cherished home at the summons of his country. 
 
 7. Here his wife received the letter which told her that 
 he had been appointed Commander-in-chief of the army ; 
 here, when the glorious struggle closed at the trumpet notes 
 of victory — when the British had retired — when, wath tears 
 coursing down his benignant, manly countenance, he had 
 uttered a touching farewell — bestowed a paternal benediction 
 on the American army, and resigned all public service — 
 here he returned, thinking to resume the rural pursuits that 
 charmed him, and to end his days in peace ! 
 
 8. Here are the trees, the shrubbery he 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 garden w^all ; 
 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 Bastile' which he presented. 
 
 9. Here flocked the illustrious men of all climes, and 
 
 15 
 
338 SA^^DERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 were received with warm, unpretending, almost rustic hospi- 
 tality. Here the French Houdon modeled his statue, and 
 the English Pine painted his portrait, and caused that jocose 
 remark, ' ' I am so hackneyed to the touches of the painters' 
 pencil, that I am altogether at their beck, and sit like 
 ' Patience on a monument !' " 
 
 10. Then came another summons from the land he had 
 saved, and he was chosen by unanim.ous voice its chief ruler. 
 Thousands of men, women, and children, sent up acclama- 
 tions, and called down blessings on his head, as he made his 
 triumphal progress from Mount Vernon to New York, to 
 take the presidential 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 
 
 11. On the bridge across the Assumpink, at Trenton, 
 (the very bridge over which he had retreated in such blank 
 despair, before the army of Cornwallis, on the eve of the 
 battle of Princeton,) 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 vnll he the Protector of 
 the Daughters.''^ Mothers, with their white-robed daugh- 
 ters, 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. 
 
 12. 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 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 339 
 
 he was unanimously elected to preside over his country's 
 welfare. But, the period happily expired, he thankfully laid 
 aside the mantle of state, the scepter of power, and, five days 
 after the inauguration of Adams, returned here to his Mount 
 Vernon home. And here the good servant, whom his Lord, 
 when He came, found watching and ready, calmly yielded 
 up his breath, exclaiming, ''It is well !" and his spirit was 
 wafted to Heaven by the blessings of his enfranchised coun- 
 trymen. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "WTiero is Mount Yernon ? 2. "What is said of "Washing- 
 ton's tomb? 3. Mention some of the things which he did here? 4. What 
 demonstrations were made by the people, as he went to New York to take 
 the oath of office ? 5. Did he serve more than one term as President ? 
 
 LESSON XOIX. 
 
 Chiv' al ROUS, gallant ; heroic. ; Cru SADe', battle zealously. 
 
 Hal' low, consecrate ; keep sacred. ^ Ca reer' ed, moved rapidly. 
 
 Mer' ce na ry, mean ; venal. \ Phal' anx, compact body of men. 
 
 Ad ven' tur er, fortune-seeker. I Trans port' ixa, exulting. 
 
 Yan' quish ED, conquered. < Tro' phie$, memorials of victory. 
 
 Out' cast, exile ; castaway. Pa' geant, pompous ; showy. 
 
 Trap' ping$, ornaments ; equipments. - Min' ion, favorite. 
 
 LA FAYETTE. 
 
 Chaelks Spkagttt;. 
 
 1. While we bring our oiFerings for the mighty of our 
 07/m land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirits of 
 other shores, who shared with them the hour of weakness 
 and woe' ? Pile to the clouds the majestic column of glory^; 
 let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each spot 
 where the bones of year bold repose^ ; but forget not those 
 who, with your bold, went out to battle. 
 
340 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 2. Among those men of noble daring, there was 07 te^ a 
 young and gallant stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills 
 of his delightful France. The people whom he came to suc- 
 cor, were not his people ; he knew them only in the melan- 
 choly story of their wrongs. He was no mercenary adven- 
 turer, striving for the spoil of the vanquished ] the palace 
 acknowledged him for its lord, and the valley yielded him 
 its increase. He was no nameles3 man, staking life foi* 
 reputation; he ranked among nobles, and looked unawed 
 upon kings. 
 
 3. He was no friendless outcast, seeking for a grave to 
 hide a broken heart ; he was girdled by the companions of 
 his childhood ; his kinsmen were about him ; his wife was 
 before him. Yet from all these loved ones he turned away. 
 Like a lofty tree that shakes down its green glories, to bat- 
 tle with the winter storm, he flung aside the trappings of 
 place and pride, to crusade for Freedom, in Freedom's holy 
 land. He came^ ; but not in the day of successful rebellion' ; 
 not when the new-risen sun of Independence had burst the 
 cloud of time, and careered to its place in the heavens'. 
 
 4. He came when darkness curtained the hills, and the 
 tempest was abroad in its anger^ ; when the plow stood still 
 in the field of promise, and briers cumbered the garden of 
 beauty^ ; when fathers were dying, and mothers were weep- 
 ing over them^ ; when the wife was binding up the gashed 
 bosom of her husband, and the maiden was wiping the 
 death-damp from the brow of her lover\ He came when the 
 brave began to fear the power of man, and the pious to 
 doubt the favor of God. It was then that this one joined 
 the ranks of a revolted people. 
 
 5. Freedom's little phalanx bade him a grateful welcome. 
 With them he courted the battle's rage ; with theirs, his 
 arm was lifted ; with theirs, his blood was shed. Long and 
 
NUMBER FOUR. g4] 
 
 doubtful Tvas the conflict. At length, kind Heaven smiled 
 on the good cause, and the beaten invaders fled. The pro- 
 fane were driven from the temple of Liberty, and, at her 
 pure shrine, the pilgrim-warrior, with his adored com- 
 mander, knelt and worshiped. Leaving there his offering, 
 the incense of an uncorrupted spirit, he at length rose, and, 
 crowned with benedictions, turned his happy feet toward his 
 long-deserted home. 
 
 6. After nearly fifty years, that one has come again. Can 
 mortal tongue tell ? can mortal heart feel, the sublimity of 
 that coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it; and their 
 loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many 
 winds, rolls on, undying, to Freedom's farthest mountains. 
 A cono'refyated nation comes around him. Old men bless 
 him, and children reverence him. The lovely come out to 
 look upon him ; the learned deck their halls to greet him ; 
 the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage. 
 
 7. How his full heart labors ! He views the rusting 
 trophies of departed days ; he treads the high places where 
 his brethren molder ; he bends before the tomb of his 
 *' father;"^ his words are tears, — the speech of sad remem- 
 brance. But he looks round upon a ransomed land and a 
 joyous race ; he beholds the blessings these trophies se- 
 cured, for which these brethren died, for which that "father" 
 lived; and again his words are tears, — the eloquence of 
 gratitude and joy. 
 
 8. Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead 
 multitudes revive ; and of all the pageant splendors that ever 
 glittered to the sun, when looked his burning eye on a sight 
 like this ? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, 
 what cherished minion ever ruled an hour like this ? Many 
 
 * Washington. 
 
342 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 have struck the redeeming hlow for their own freedom ; but 
 who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the cause of 
 strangers ? 
 
 9. Others have lived in the love of their own people ; but 
 who, like this man, has drank his sweetest cup of welcome 
 with another? Matchless chief ! of glory's immortal tablets 
 there is one for him, for him alone ! Oblivion shall never 
 shroud its splendor ; the everlasting flame of Liberty shall 
 guard it, that the generations of men may repeat the name 
 recorded there, the beloved name of La Fayette. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Of what country was La Fayette a native ? 2. "What 
 was his position at home ? 3. In wiiat condition was this country when ho 
 came to join our army ? 4, How many years after, before he revisited this 
 country? 5. "What demonstrations were manifested by the people? 6. 
 What is said of his fame ? 
 
 LESSON 0. 
 
 Pro fu' sign, abundance ; variety, i Pa' ge$, boy-servants ; attendants. 
 
 Con ru' sion, intricacy ; indistinct ^. Spar' ring, boxing ; disputing. 
 
 movement. \ Pup' pets, dolls; small figures of 
 
 Com mo' tion, agitation ; shaking, j persons. 
 Ee $ult', effect. Pin' ish, completion. 
 
 Di min' ish, lessen. | G-lo' ri ous, grand ; splendid. 
 
 Mts' te ry, maze ; secrecy. c Re ject', refuse ; deny. [rowed. 
 
 His' to ry, plain matter of fact. \ Re flect' ed, turned back j bor- 
 
 THE MYSTIC WEAVER* 
 
 1. Weaver at his loom is sitting. 
 Throws his shuttle to and froj 
 Foot and treadle-, 
 Hand and pedal. 
 Upward, downward, 
 Hither^ thither, 
 
^ DUMBER FOUR. 343 
 
 How the weaver m*ikes them go ! 
 As the weaver wills they go. 
 Up and down the web is plying, 
 And across the woof is flying ; 
 
 What a rattling ! 
 
 What a battling ! 
 
 What a shuffling ! 
 
 What a scuffling ! 
 As the weaver makes his shuttle, 
 Hither, thither, scud and scuttle. 
 
 2. Threads in single, 
 
 Threads in double ; 
 How they mingle ! 
 What a trouble, 
 Every color ! 
 
 What profusion I 
 Every motion — 
 What confusion 1 
 While the web and woof are mingling, 
 Signal bells above are jingling, 
 Telling how each figure ranges. 
 Telling when the color changes, 
 As the weaver makes his shuttle, 
 Hither, thither, scud and scuttle. 
 
 3. Weaver at his loom is sitting. 
 Throws his shuttle to and fro ; 
 'Mid the noise and wild confusion, 
 Well the weaver seems to know, 
 As he makes his shuttle go, 
 What each motion, 
 And commotion, 
 
344 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 What each fusion, 
 
 And confusion, 
 In the grand result will show : 
 
 Weaving daily, 
 
 Singing gayly. 
 As he makes his busy shuttle, 
 Hither, thither, scud and scuttle. 
 
 4. Weaver at his loom is sitting, 
 
 Throws his shuttle to and fro ; 
 See you not how shape and order 
 From the wild confusion grow, 
 As he makes his shuttle go' ? 
 As the web and woof diminish, 
 Grows beyond the beauteous finish : 
 Tufted plaidings, 
 Shapes and shadings, 
 All the mystery 
 Now is history : 
 And we see the reason subtle, 
 Why the weaver makes his shuttle, 
 Hither, thither, scud and scuttle. 
 
 5. See the Mystic Weaver sitting, 
 
 High in Heaven — his loom below^ 
 Up and down the treadles go : 
 Takes for web the world's long ages. 
 Takes for woof its kings and sages, 
 Takes the nobles and their pages, 
 Takes all stations and all stages. 
 Thrones are bobbins in His shuttle \ 
 Armies make them scud and scuttle. 
 
KUMBER FOUR, 345 
 
 6. Web into the woof must flow, 
 Up and down the nations go, 
 As the Weaver vnlls they go. 
 
 Men are sparring, 
 
 Powers are jarring. 
 
 Upward, downward. 
 
 Hither, thither. 
 See how strange the nations go, 
 Just like puppets in a show. 
 Up and down the web is plying. 
 And across the woof is flying. 
 
 What a rattling ! 
 
 What a battling ! . 
 
 What a shuffling ! 
 
 What a scuffling ! 
 As the Weaver makes his shuttle, 
 Hither, thither, scud and scuttle. 
 
 Calmly see the Mystic Weaver, 
 Throw His shuttle to and fro ; 
 'Mid the noise and wild confusion, 
 Well the Weaver seems to know 
 
 What each motion 
 
 And commotion. 
 
 What each fusion 
 
 And confusion. 
 In the grand result will show, 
 
 As the nations, 
 
 Kings and stations. 
 
 Upward, downAvard, 
 
 Hither, thither. 
 As in mystic dances, go. 
 
g46 ^ SANDERS' UNION SJERIES, 
 
 8. In the Present all is mystery, 
 
 In the Past 'tis beauteous History. 
 O'er the mixing and the mingling, 
 HovY the signal bells are jingling! 
 See you not the Weaver leaving 
 Finished work behind in weaving'? 
 
 See you not the reason subtle, 
 As the web and woof diminish, 
 Changing into beauteous finish, 
 
 Why the Weaver makes His shuttle, 
 Hither, thither, scud and scuttle'? 
 
 9. Glorious wonder I What a weaving ! 
 To the dull beyond believing ! 
 
 Such no fabled ages know. 
 Only Faith can see the mystery 
 How, along the aisle of History 
 
 Where' the feet of sages go. 
 Loveliest to the purest eyes. 
 Grand the mystic tapet lies ! 
 Soft and smooth and even-spreading 
 As if made for angels' treading ; 
 Tufted circles touching ever. 
 Inwrought figures fading never ; 
 Every figure has its plaidings, 
 Brighter form and softer shadings j 
 Each illuminated, — what a riddle ! — . 
 From a Cross that gems the middle. 
 
 10. 'Tis a saying — some reject it, — 
 That its light is all reflected : 
 That the tapet' s hues are given 
 By a Sun that shines in Heaven ! 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 347 
 
 'Tis believed, by all believing 
 That great God Himself is weaving ! 
 Bringing out the world's dark mystery 
 In the light of Faith and History ; 
 And, as web and woof diminish, 
 Comes the grand and glorious finish : 
 When begin the golden ages, 
 Long foretold by seers and sages. 
 
 Questions. — 1. Describe the process of weaving. 2. "Who are weaving 
 the web of history ? • 
 
 LESSON CI. 
 
 Con found', perplex ; confuse. I Pi o neer$', persons that go before 
 
 "Woof, cloth , texture. J to prepare the way for others. 
 
 Ear' er, scarcer ; more excellent. ^ Scouts, spies. 
 
 pRAi' RiE$, extensive tracts of land, i Heart' en, encourage. 
 
 with few trees. | Scan' ned, closely examined. 
 
 Sav' age, wild ; uncultivated. j Cleav' ing, parting ; separating. 
 
 Sa van' na, open meadow or plain. \ Hol' i day, day of rest or joy. 
 
 WORK AWAY* 
 
 Harpees' Magazine. 
 
 1. Work away ! 
 
 For the Master's eye is on us, 
 Never off us, still upon us, 
 
 Night and day ! 
 
 Work away ! 
 Keep the busy fingers plying, 
 Keep the ceaseless shuttles flying. 
 See that never thread lie wrong ; 
 Let not clash or clatter round us, 
 Sound of whirring wheels, confound us ; 
 
g48 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Steady hand ! let woof be strong 
 And firm, that has to last so long ! 
 Work away ! 
 
 2. Keep upon the anvil ringing 
 Stroke of hammer ; on the gloom^ 
 Set 'twixt cradle and the tomb, 
 Showers of fiery sparkles flinging ; 
 Keep the mighty furnace glowing ; 
 
 * Keep the red ore hissing, flowing 
 Swift within the ready mold ; 
 See that each one than the old 
 Still be fitter, still be fairer 
 For the servant's use, and rarer 
 For the Master to behold : 
 Work away I 
 
 3. Work away ! 
 
 For the Leader's eye is on us, 
 Never off us, still upon us, 
 
 Night and day ! 
 Wide the trackless prairies round us, 
 Dark and unsunned woods surround ua. 
 Steep and savage mountains bound us ; 
 
 Far away 
 Smile the soft savannas green, 
 Kivers sweep and roll between : 
 
 Work away ! 
 
 Bring your axes, woodmen true j 
 
 Smite the forest till the blue 
 
 Of heaven's sunny eye looks through 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 349 
 
 Every wild and tangled glade ; 
 Jungled swamp and thicket shade 
 Give to day ! 
 
 5. O'er the torrents fling your bridges, 
 Pioneers ! Upon the ridges 
 
 Widen, smooth the rocky stair, — 
 They that follow far behind 
 Coming after us, will find 
 
 Surer, easier footing there ; 
 Heart to heart, and hand with hand, 
 From the dawn to dusk of day, 
 
 Work away ! 
 Scouts upon the mountain's peak, — 
 
 Ye that see the Promised Land, 
 Hearten us ! for ye can speak 
 
 Of the Country ye have scanned, 
 Far away ! 
 
 6. Work away ! 
 
 For the Father's eye is on us, 
 Never off us, still upon us, 
 
 Night and day ! 
 
 Work and Pray 1 
 Pray ! and Work will be completer ; 
 Work ! and Prayer will be the sweeter ; 
 Love ! and Prayer and Work the fleeter 
 
 Will ascend upon their way I 
 
 7. Fear not lest the busy finger 
 
 Weave a net the soul to stay ; 
 Give her wings, — she will not linger. 
 Soaring to the source of day ; 
 
^50 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Cleaving clouds that still divide us 
 
 From the azure depths of rest, 
 She will come again ! beside us, 
 
 With the sunshine on her breast, 
 Sit, and sing to us, while quickest 
 
 On their task the fingers move, 
 While the outward din wars thickest. 
 
 Songs that she hath learned above. 
 
 8. Live in Future as in Present ; 
 
 W^ork for both while yet the day   
 Is our own ! for lord and peasant. 
 
 Long and bright as summer's day, 
 Cometh, yet more sure, more pleasant, 
 Cometh soon our Holiday : 
 Work away ! 
 
 LESSON on. 
 
 Prop o si" tion, proposal. j Am bas'sa dor, messenger; deputy. 
 Ad he' sign, attraction. Nav' i ga tor$, voyagers ; seamen. 
 
 Absurd' I TY, folly; nonsense. j Spec u la' tion, theory; mental view. 
 
 Vis' ION A RY, fanciful; imaginary. | En' ter pri$e, attempt ; undertaking. 
 Discus' SIGN, debate; controversy. Fri vol'i ty, levity; triflingness. 
 
 The' ry, idea ; scheme of doctrine. 1 Pre $ent' i ment, previous notice. 
 
 An tip' DE$, (anti, opposite; podes, the feet;) having their feet opposite 
 to ours. 
 
 * Gen e$e', a native of Genoa,7—a famous fortified seaport city of 
 Northern Italy, in the Sardmian States. 
 
 ^ Lac tan' tius, one of the fathers of the Latin church, born about the 
 year a. d. 250. He was celebrated as a teacher of eloquence, and before his 
 conversion to Christianity, had so successfully studied and imitated the great 
 Koman orator that he received the appellation of the " Christian Cicero." 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 35^ 
 
 QUEEN ISABELLA'S RESOLVE* 
 
 FEOM YINET. 
 QUEEIT ISABELLA OF SPAIX, DON GOMEZ, AND COLUMBUS. 
 
 Isabella. And so, Don Gomez, it is your conclusion that 
 we ought to dismiss the proposition of this worthy Genoese/ 
 
 Don Gomez. His scheme, your majesty, seems to me 
 fanciful in the extreme ; but I am a plain matter-of-fact 
 man, and do not see visions and dreams, like some. 
 
 Isa. And yet Columbus has given us cogent reasons for 
 believing that it is practicable to reach the eastern coast of 
 India by sailing in a westerly direction. 
 
 Don G. Admitting that his theory is correct, namely, 
 that the earth is a sphere, how would it be possible for him 
 to return, if he once descended that sphere in the direction 
 he proposes^ ? Would not the coming back be all up-hilF ? 
 Could a ship accomplish it with even the most favorable 
 wmd' ? 
 
 Columhus. Will your majesty allow me to suggest that, 
 if the earth is a sphere, the same laws of adhesion and 
 motion must operate at every point on its surface ; and the 
 objection of Don Gomez would be quite as valid against our 
 being able to return from crossing the Strait of Gibraltar. 
 
 Don G. This gentleman, then, would have us believe the 
 monstrous absurdity, that there are people on the earth who 
 are our antipodes, — who walk with their heads down, like 
 flies on the ceiling. 
 
 Col. But, your majesty, if there is a law of attraction 
 which makes matter gravitate to the earth, and prevents its 
 flying off into space, may not this law operate at every 
 point on the round earth's surface' ? 
 
 Isa. Truly, it so seems to me; and I perceive nothing 
 absurd in the notion that this earth is a globe floating or 
 revolving in space. 
 
352 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Don G. May it please your majesty, the ladies are priv- 
 ileged to give credence to many wild tales which we pkin 
 matter-of-fact men can not admit. Every step I take, con- 
 futes this visionary idea of the earth's rotundity. Would 
 not the blood run into my head, if I were standing upside 
 down! Were I not fearful of offending your majesty, I 
 would quote what the great Lactantius^ says. 
 
 Isa. We are not vain of our science, Don Gromez ; so let 
 us have the quotation. 
 
 Do?i G. "Is there any one so foolish," he asks, "as to 
 believe that there are antipodes with their feet opposite to 
 ours, — that there is a part of the world in which all things 
 are topsy-turvy, where the trees grow with their branches 
 downward, and where it rains, hails, and snows, upward' ?'' 
 
 Col. I have already answered this objection. If there 
 are people on the earth who are our antipodes, it should be 
 remembered that we are theirs also. 
 
 Don G. Really, that is the very point wherein we matter- 
 of-fact men abide by the assurance of our own senses. We 
 know that we are not walking with our heads downward. 
 
 Isa. To cut short the discussion, you think that the enter- 
 prise which the Genoese proposes, is one unworthy of our 
 serious consideration ; and that his theory of an unknown 
 shore to the westward of us is a fallacy. 
 
 Don G, As a plain matter-of-fact man, I must confess 
 that I so regard it. Has your majesty ever seen an ambas- 
 sador from this unknown coast ? 
 
 Isa. Don Gomez, do you believe in the existence of n 
 world of spirits? Have you ever seen an ambassador from 
 that unknown world ? 
 
 Do?i G. Certainly not. Ey faith we look forward to it. 
 
 Isa. Even so by faith does the Genoese look forward, far 
 over misty ocean, to an undiscovered shore. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 053 
 
 Col. Your majesty is right ; but let it be added that I 
 have reasons, oh ! most potent and resistless reasons, for the 
 faith that is in me : the testimony of many navigators 
 who have picked up articles that must have drifted from 
 this distant coast : the nature of things, admitting that the 
 earth is round : the reports current among the people of one 
 of the northern nations, that many years ago their mariners 
 had sailed many leagues westward till they reached a shore 
 where the grape grew abundantly ; these and other consid- 
 erations have made it the fixed persuasion of my mind, that 
 there is a great discovery reserved for the man who will sail 
 patiently westward, trusting in God's good providence, and 
 turning not back till he has achieved his purpose. 
 
 Don G. Then truly we should never hear of him again. 
 Speculation ! mere speculation, your majesty ! When this 
 gentleman can bring forward some solid facts that will induce 
 us plain matter-of-fact men to risk money in forwarding his 
 enterprise, it will then be time enough for royalty to give it 
 heed. Why, your majesty, the very boys in the streets 
 point at their foreheads as he passes along. 
 
 Isa. And so you bring forward the frivolity of boys jeer- 
 ing at what they do not comprehend, as an argument why 
 Isabella should not give heed to this great and glorious 
 scheme? Ay, sir, though it should fail, still, it has been 
 urged in language so intelligent and convincing, by this 
 grave and earnest man, whom you think to undervalue by 
 calling him an adventurer, that I am resolved to test the 
 '' absurdity," as you style it, and that forthwith. 
 
 Don G. Your majesty will excuse me if I remark, that 
 I have from your royal consort himself the assurance that 
 the finances are so exhausted by the late wars, that he can 
 not consent to advance the necessary funds for fitting out an 
 expedition of the kind proposed. 
 
 Isa. Be mine, then, the privilege ! I have jewels, by 
 
354 SA^^DERS' UNION SERIES* 
 
 the pledging of which I can raise the amount required ; and 
 I have resolved that they shall be pledged to this enterprise, 
 without any more delay. 
 
 Col. Your majesty shall not repent your heroic resolve. 
 I will return, your majesty ; be sure I will return, and lay 
 at your feet such a jewel as never queen wore yet, an im- 
 perishable fame, — a fame that shall couple with your mem- 
 ory the benedictions of millions yet unborn, in climes yefc 
 unknown to civilized man. There is an uplifting presenti- 
 ment in my mind, a conviction that your majesty will live 
 to bless the hour you came to this decision. 
 
 Don G. A presentiment ? A plain matter-of-fact man, 
 like myself, must take leave of your majesty, if his practical 
 common -sense is to be met and superseded by presentiments ! 
 An ounce of fact, your majesty, is worth a ton of presenti- 
 ment. 
 
 Isa. That depends altogether upon the source of the pre- 
 sentiment, Don Gomez. If it come from the Fountain of 
 all truth, shall it not be good ? 
 
 Don G, I humbly take my leave of your majesty. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What reasons did Don Gomez advance in proof that the 
 earth is not a sphere? 2. What argument did Columbus present in proof 
 that it was? 3. What did Queen Isabella resolve to do ? 
 
 LESSON GUI. 
 
 Con firm' ing, corroborating. > He$ i ta' tion, doubt. 
 
 As sur' AN CE$, assertions. \ Enjoin'ing, commanding; ordering. 
 
 Mu Ti neer', one who resists orders, i Am phi the' a ter, circular theater. 
 
 In fkr' red, concluded. Con trast' ed, set in opposition. 
 
 Cray' ED, begged. De mean' or, behavior. 
 
 As so' CIA ting, joining; connecting. De fault', defect; absence. 
 
 Ex pec ta' tion, hope ; a looking for. In sig' nia, marks ; signs. 
 
 Ver' i fi ED, made true ; realized. I In i" tial$, first letters. 
 
 Phos PHO res' cence, faint light. J Dev as ta'tion, a laying waste. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 35/3 
 
 DISCOVERY OF THE NEW WORlcD. 
 
 Lamartine. 
 
 1. At sunrise, on the second day, some rushes recently 
 torn up, were seen near the vessels. A plank, .evidently 
 hewn by an ax, a stick skillfully carved by some cutting 
 instrument, a bough of hawthorn in blossom, — and lastly, a 
 bird s nest built on a branch which the wind had broken, and 
 full of eggs, on which the parent bird was sitting amid the 
 gently-rolling waves, — were seen floating past on the w^aters. 
 The sailors brouorht on board these livino; and inanimate wit- 
 nesses of their approach to land. They were a voice from 
 the shore, confirming the assurances of Columbus Before 
 the land actually appeared in sight, its neighborhood was 
 inferred from these marks of life. 
 
 2. The mutineers fell on their knees before the Admiral, 
 whom they had insulted but the day before, craved pardon 
 for their mistrust, and struck up a hymn of thanksgivmg to 
 God for associating them with this triumph. Night fell on 
 these songs welcoming a new w^orld. The Admiral gave 
 orders that the sails should be close-reefed, and the lead 
 kept going ; and that they should sail slowly, being afraid 
 of breakers and shoals, and feeling certain that the first 
 gleam of daybreak would discover land under their bows. 
 
 3. On the last anxious night none slept. Impatient ex- 
 pectation had removed all heaviness from their eyes; the 
 pilots and the seamen, clinging about the masts, yards, and 
 shrouds, each tried to keep the best place and the closest 
 watch to get the earliest sight of the new hemisphere. The 
 Admiral had offered a reward to the first who should cry 
 JLand^ provided his announcement was verified by its actual 
 discovery. 
 
 4. Providence, -however, reserved to Columbus himself 
 this first glimpse, which he had purchased at the expense of 
 
356 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 twenty years of his life, and of untiring perseverance. 
 While walking the quarter-deck alone, at midnight, and 
 sweeping the dark horizon with his keen eye, a gleam of fire 
 passed and disappeared, and again showed itself on the level 
 of the waves. Fearful of being deceived by the phospho- 
 rescence of the sea, he quietly called a Spanish gentleman of 
 Isabella's court, in whom he had more confidence than in the 
 pilots, pointed out the direction in which he had seen the 
 light, and asked him whether he could discern any thing 
 there. 
 
 5. He replied that he did, indeed, see a flickering light 
 in that quarter. To make the fact still more sure, Colum- 
 bus called another in whom he had confidence to look in the 
 same direction. He said he had no hesitation in pronounc- 
 ing that there was a light on the horizon. But the blaze 
 was hardly seen before it again disappeared in the ocean, to 
 show itself anew the next moment. Whether it was the light 
 of a fire on a low shore, alternately appearing and disap- 
 pearing beyond the broken horizon, or whether it was the 
 floating beacon of a fisherman's boat now rising on the waves, 
 and now sinking in the trough of the sea, they could not 
 determine. 
 
 6. Thus both land and safety appeared together in the 
 shape of fire to Columbus and his two friends, on the night 
 between the 11th and 12th of October, 1492. The Admiral, 
 enjoining silence, kept his observation to himself, for fear of 
 again raising false hopes, and giving a bitter disappoinment 
 to his ships' companies. He lost sight of the light, and re- 
 mained on deck until two in the morning, — praying, hoping, 
 and despairing alone, awaiting the triumph or the return on 
 which the morrow was to decide. 
 
 7. He was seized with that anguish which precedes the 
 great discoveries of truth, when, suddenly, a cannon-shot, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. £57 
 
 sounding over tlie sea, a few hundred yards in advance of 
 him, burst upon his ear the announcement of a new-horn 
 ivorldj which made him tremble and fall upon his knees. It 
 was the signal of land in sight ! made by firing a shot, as 
 had been arranged with the Pinta^ which was sailing in 
 advance of the squadron, to guide their course and take 
 soundings. 
 
 8. At this signal a general shout oi '-'- Land ho P^ arose 
 from all the yards and riggings of the ships. The sails were 
 furled, and daybreak was anxiously awaited. The mystery 
 of the ocean had breathed its first whisper in the bosom of 
 night. Daybreak would clear it up openly to every eye. 
 Delicious and unknown perfumes reached the vessels from 
 the outline of the shore, w^ith the roar of the waves upon the 
 reefs and the soft land breeze. 
 
 9. The fire seen by Columbus indicated the presence of 
 man, and of the first element of civilization. Never did the 
 night appear so long in clearing away from the horizon ; for 
 this horizon was to Columbus and his companions a second 
 creation of God. The dawn, as it spread over the sky, 
 gradually raised the shores of an island from the waves. Its 
 distant extremities were lost in the morning mist. It as- 
 cended gradually, like an amphitheater, from tlie low beach 
 to the summit of the hills, whose dark-green covering con- 
 trasted strongly with the blue heavens. 
 
 10. Within a few paces from where the foam of the waves 
 breaks on the yellow sand, forests of tall and unknown trees 
 stretched away, one above another, over the successive ter- 
 races of the island. Green valleys and bright clefts in the 
 hollows, afibrded a half glimpse into these mysterious wilds. 
 Here and there could be discovered a few scattered huts, 
 which, with their outlines and roofs of dry loaves, looked 
 like bee-hives, and thin columns of blue smoke rose- above 
 
558 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 the tops of the trees. Half-naked groups of men, women, 
 and children, more astonished than frightened, appeared 
 among the thickets near the shore, advancing timidly, and 
 tlien drawing back, exhibiting, by their gestures and de- 
 meanor, as much fear as curiosity and wonder, at the sight 
 of these strange vessels, which the previous night had 
 brought to their shores. 
 
 11. Columbus, after gazing in silence on this foremost 
 shore of the land so often determined by his calculations, 
 and so magnificently colored by his imagination, found it to 
 exceed even his own expectations. He burned with impa- 
 tience to be the first European to set foot on the sand, and 
 to plant the flag of Spain, — the standard of the conquest of 
 God and of his sovereigns, effected by bis genius. But he 
 restrained the eagerness of himself and of bis crew to land, 
 being desirous of giving to the act of taking possession of a 
 new world, a solemnity worthy of the greatest deed, perhaps, 
 ever accomplished by a seaman ; and, m default of men, to 
 call God and His angels, sea, earth, and sky, as witnesses 
 of his conquest of an unknown hemisphere. 
 
 12. He put on all the insignia of his dignities as Admiral 
 of the Ocean, and the Viceroy of these future realms ; he 
 wrapped himself in his purple cloak, and, taking in his hand 
 an embroidered flag, in which the initials of Ferdinand and 
 Isabella were interlaced, like their two kingdoms, and, sur- 
 mounted by a crown, he entered his boat, and pulled toward 
 the shore, followed by the boats of his two lieutenants. 
 
 13. On landing, he fell on his knees, to acknowledge, by 
 this act of humility and worship, the goodness and greatness 
 of God in this new sphere of his works. He kissed the 
 ground, and, with his face on the earth, he wept tears of 
 double import, as they fell on the dust of this hemisphere, 
 now, for the first time, visited by Europeans, — tears of joy 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 359 
 
 for the overflowing of a proud spirit, grnteful and pious, — 
 tears of sadness for this virgin soil, seeming to foreshadow 
 the calamities, and devastation, with fire and sword, and 
 blood and destruction, which the strangers were to bring 
 with their pride, their knowledge, and their power. 
 
 14. It was the man that shed these tears ; but it was the 
 earth that was destined to weep. As Columbus raised his 
 forehead from the dust, with a Latin prayer, which his com- 
 panions have handed down to us, he thus addressed the Sov- 
 ereign Ruler of the world: (.9/.) "Almighty and eternal 
 God, who, by the energy of Thy creative word, hast made 
 the firmament, the earth, and sea, blessed and glorified be 
 Thy name in all places ! May Thy majesty and dominion be 
 exalted forever and ever, as Thou hast permitted Thy holy 
 name to be made known and spread by the most humble of 
 Thy servants, in this hitherto unknow^n portion of Thy em- 
 pire." 
 
 15. He then gave to this land the name of San Salvador. 
 His lieutenants, his pilots, and his seamen, full of gladness, 
 and impressed with a superstitious respect for him whose 
 glance had pierced beyond the visible horizon, and whom 
 they had offended by their unbelief, — overcome by the evi- 
 dence of their eyes, and by that mental superiority which 
 overawes the minds of men, — fell at the feet of the Admiral, 
 kissed his hands and his clothes, and recognized, for a mo- 
 ment, the power and the almost divine nature of genius ; yes- 
 terday the victims of his obstinacy, — 7iow the companions of 
 his success, and sharers in the glory which they had mocked. 
 Such is humanity, — persecuting discoverers, yet reaping the 
 fruits of their inventions. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What evidences had Columbus that land was near ? 2. 
 What did the mutineers do ? 3. In what month and year was the neun 
 world discovered? 4. "What is said of the natives? 5. What, of Colmn 
 bus, as he landed ? 
 
360 SASDERS' USION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON CIV. 
 
 Fee' ment, heat ; glow. < Pre pos' ter ous, absurd ; ridiculous. 
 
 En thu' $i a$m, excitement. j Yaunt' ed, boasted. 
 Pro dig' ious, very great. De lu' sion, deception. 
 
 Spec' i men$, samples. < Cred' u lous, apt to believe. 
 
 Leagu'ed, joined; banded. j Un re li' a ble, untrustworthy. 
 
 Persuad'ed, convinced ] Sus pi" CION, doubt; mistrust. 
 
 THE RETURN OF COLUMBUS. 
 
 DON GOMEZ AND HIS SECRETARY. 
 
 Don Gomez. What ! what is this jou tell me ? Co- 
 lumbus returned ? A new w^orld discovered ? Impossible ! 
 
 Secretary. It is even so, sir. A courier arrived at the 
 palace but an hour since with the intelligence. Columbus 
 was driven bj stress of weather to anchor in the Tagus. All 
 Portugal is in a ferment of enthusiasm, and all Spain will 
 be equally excited soon. The sensation is prodigious ! 
 
 Don G. Oh, it is a trick ! It must be a trick ! 
 
 Sec. But he has brought home the proofs of his visit, — 
 gold and precious stones, strange plants and animals ; and, 
 above all, specimens of a new race of men, copper-colored, 
 with straight hair. 
 
 Don G. Still I say, a trick ! He has been coasting along 
 the African shore, and there collected a few curiosities, which 
 he is passing off for proofs of his pretended discovery. 
 
 Sec. It is a little singular that all his men should be 
 leagued with him in keeping up so unprofitable a falsehood. 
 
 Don. G. But 'tis against reason, against common sense, 
 that such a discovery should be made. 
 
 Sec. King John of Portugal has received him with royal 
 magnificence, has listened to his accounts, and is persuaded 
 that they are true. 
 
]VU?J3ER rOUR 
 
 861 
 
 Don G. We shall see, we shall see. Look jou, sir, a 
 plain matter-of-fact man, such as I, is not to be taken in bj 
 any such preposterous storj ! This vaunted discovery will 
 turn out no discovery at all. 
 
 Sec. The king and queen have given orders for prep- 
 arations on the most magnificent scale for the reception of 
 Columbus. 
 
 Don. G. What delusion ! Her majesty is so credulous ! 
 A practical, common-sense man, like myself, can find no 
 points of sympathy in her nature. 
 
 Sec. The Indians on board the returned vessels, are sala 
 to be unlike any known race of men. 
 
 Don G. Very unreliable all that ! I take the common- 
 sense view of the thing. I am a matter-of-fact man , and 
 do you remember what I say, it will all turn out a trick I 
 The crews may have been deceived. Columbus may have 
 steered a southerly course, instead of a westerly. Any 
 thing is probable,, rather than that a coast to the westward 
 of us has been discovered. 
 
 Sec. I saw the courier, who told me he had conversed 
 with all the sailors ; and they laughed at the suspicion that 
 there could be any mistake about the discovery, or that any 
 other than a westerly course had been steered. 
 
 Doti G. Still I say, a trick ! An unknown coast reached 
 by steering west? Impossible ! The earth a globe, and 
 men standing with their heads down in space ? Folly ! An 
 iojnorant Sailor from Genoa in the ri^ht, and all our learned 
 doctors and philosophers in the wrong ? Nonsense ! I'm 
 a matter-of-fact man, sir. I will believe what I can see, and 
 handle, and understand. But as for believing in the antip- 
 odes, or that the earth is round, or that Columbus has dis- 
 covered land to the west, Ring the bell, sir, call my 
 
 carriage ; I will go to the palace and undeceive the king. 
 4U 16 
 
3Q2 SAMDERS' UJSIOM SERIES. 
 
 LESSON OV. 
 
 Har' bin ger, forerunner ; precursor. J De cree$' edicts ; laws. 
 
 Un pil'lar ED, unsupported b J pillars. I Hal' low ed, sacred; consecrated, 
 
 Cn yield' ing, stubborn. \ Mold' er ing, decaying. 
 
 TWO HUMORED YEARS AGO* 
 
 Gkenvillb Meulibt. 
 
 1. Wake your harp's music ! — louder, — higher, 
 
 And pour your strains along ; 
 And smite again each quivering wire, 
 
 In all the pride of song ! 
 (y.) Shout like those godlike men of old, 
 
 Who, daring storm and foe, 
 On this blessed soil their anthem rolled, 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 
 
 2. From native shores by tempests driven, 
 
 They sought a purer sky ; 
 And found, beneath a milder heaven. 
 
 The home of Liberty ! 
 An altar rose, — and prayers, — a ray 
 ^ Broke on their night of woe, — 
 
 The harbinger of Freedom's day, 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 
 
 8. They clung around that symbol too. 
 
 Their refuge and their all ; 
 And swore, while skies and waves were blue, 
 
 That altar should not fall ! 
 They stood upon the red man's sod, 
 
 'Neath heaven's unpillared bow, 
 With home, — a country, and a God, — 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO I 
 
NUMBER rOUR. gg^ 
 
 4. Oh ! 'twas a hard, unyielding fate 
 That drove them to the seas ; 
 
 And Persecution strove with Hate, 
 To darken her decrees : 
 
 But safe, above each coral grave, 
 Each booming ship did go, — 
 
 A God was on the western wave, — 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO I 
 
 They knelt them on the desert sand, 
 
 By waters cold and rude, 
 Alone upon the dreary strand 
 
 Of oceaned solitude ! 
 They looked upon the high, blue air, 
 
 And felt their spirits glow, 
 Resolved to live or perish there, — 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 
 
 6. The warrior's red right arm was bared. 
 His eyes flashed deep and wild : 
 
 Was there a foreign footstep dared 
 JTo seek his home and child' ? 
 
 The dark chiefs yelled alarm, and swor» 
 The white man's blood should flow, 
 
 And his hewn bones should bleach their shore. 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO I 
 
 7. But lo ! the warrior's eye grew dim, — 
 His arm was left alone ; 
 The still, black wilds which sheltered him, 
 No longer were his own ! 
 
354 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Time fled, — and on the hallowed ground 
 
 His highest pine lies low, — 
 And cities swell where forests frowned, 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 
 
 8. Oh I stay not to recount the tale, — 
 
 'T was bloody, and 'tis past; 
 The firmest cheek might well grow pale, 
 
 To hear it to the last. 
 The God of Heaven who prospers us, 
 
 Could bid a nation grow. 
 And shield us from the red man's curse, — 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO I 
 
 9. Come, then, — great shades of glorious men, 
 
 From your still glorious grave I 
 Look on your own proud land again, 
 
 bravest of the brave ! 
 We call you from each moldering tomb. 
 
 And each blue wave below. 
 To bless the world ye snatched from doom, — 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 
 
 10. Then to your harps !— yet louder,— higher 
 And pour your strains along ; 
 And smite again each quivering wire, 
 In all the pride of song ! 
 (/.) Shout for those godlike men of old, 
 Who, daring storm and foe, 
 On this blessed soil their anthem rolled, 
 
 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO ! 
 
 Questions.—!. "Who are meant by godlike, men of old f 2. Why did 
 they flee to this country ? 3. Who warred against them ? 
 
JSiUHBiSR FOOR. 355 
 
 ' LESSON OVI. 
 
 Sb rene' ly, calmly ; quietly. { Mail, defensive armor. 
 
 Surmount', rise above; overcome. ) Exalt', lift up. 
 Tramp, tread, or travel. \ Frail' ty, weakness. 
 
 Eb' on, black, as ebony. J Blight' ed, blasted. 
 
 Guard' i an, defender ; protector. | Re nown', fame ; celebrity. 
 Ciiiv' al rig, brave ; heroic. ] Stead' fast, firm ; resolute. 
 
 In ter vene', (inter, between . vene, to come ;) come between ; interpose. 
 
 Succeed', sue, after; ceed, to come ;) come after; follow. 
 
 PRESS OM* 
 
 Paek Benjamih, 
 
 1. Press on ! there's no such word as fail ! 
 
 Press nobly on ! the goal is near, — 
 Ascend the mountain ! breast the gale ! . 
 
 Look upward, onward, — never fear ! 
 Why shouldst thou faint ? Heaven smiles above, 
 
 Though storms and vapor intervene ; 
 That Sun shines on, whose name is Love, 
 
 Serenely o'er Life's shadowed scene. 
 
 2. Press on ! surmount the rocky steeps, 
 
 Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch : 
 He fails alone who feebly creeps ; 
 
 He wins, who dares the hero's march. 
 Be thou a hero 1 let thy might 
 
 Tramp on eternal snows its way, ^ 
 
 And, through the ebon walls of night, 
 
 Hew down a passage unto day. 
 
 3. Press on ! if once and twice thy feet 
 
 Slip back and stumble, harder try ,- 
 From him who never dreads to meet 
 Danger and death, they're sure to fly. 
 
gQQ SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 To coward ranks the bullet speeds ; 
 
 While on their breasts who never quail, 
 Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, • 
 
 Bright courage, like a coat of mail. 
 
 4. Press on ! if Fortune play thee false 
 
 To-day, to-morrow she'll be true ; 
 Whom now she sinks she now exalts, 
 
 Taking old gifts and granting new. 
 The wisdom of the present hour 
 
 Makes up her follies past and gone : 
 To weakness strength succeeds, and power 
 
 From frailty springs ; — press on ! press Olf ! 
 
 5. Press on ! what though upon the ground 
 
 Thy love has been poured out like rain? 
 That happiness is always found 
 
 The sweetest, which is born of pain. 
 Oft 'mid the forest's deepest glooms, 
 
 A bird sings from some blighted tree, 
 And, in the dreariest desert, blooms 
 
 A never-dying rose for thee. 
 
 6. Therefore, press on ! and reach the goal, 
 
 And gain the prize^ and wear the crown : 
 Faint not ! for, to the steadfast soul. 
 
 Come wealth, and lienor, and renown. 
 To thine own self be true, and keep 
 
 Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil ; 
 Press oni and thou shalt surely reap 
 
 A heavenly harvest for thy toil ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. What encouragement is given to those who press on? 
 2. Whq fails, and who wins ? 3. "What is said of those who never dread to 
 meet danger and death ? 4. How are they rewarded, who press on ? 
 
HUMBER FOUR. 267 
 
 LESSON OVII. 
 
 Expand', develop; enlarge. ) Oeles'tial, heavenh'. 
 
 El' e vate, raise ; digniiy. j Dis' Si pates, scatters, or confuses. 
 
 Va' ri a ble, changeable. In fin' i ty, boundlessness. 
 
 Phan ta$ ma go'ri a, magic lantern; \ Gym nas' tic, athletic exercise. 
 
 illusive representations. < pac' i ty, state of being opaque 
 
 Un' du la ting, waving ; irregular. < or dark. 
 
 Mo bil' i ty, movableness ; readi- Pa thet' ic, feeling ; tender. 
 
 ness to move. \ In dom' i ta ble, unconquerable. 
 
 Doc'lLE, teachable; obedient. / Co-op' ER ate, work with ; join with. 
 
 ' Mount Per' du, one of the high summits of the Pyrenees mountains, in 
 Spain. The name signifies "Lost Mountain;" in allusion, probably, to its 
 peak bemg lost in the clouds. 
 
 THE THREE FORMS OF MATURE* 
 
 From the Frekcii op Michelet. 
 
 1. There are three forms of Nature, which especially 
 expand and elevate our souls, release her from her heavy clay 
 and earthly limits, and send her, exulting, to sail amidst the 
 wonders and mysteries of the Infinite. First, there is the 
 variable Ocea?i of. Air with its glorious banquet of light, 
 its vapors, its twilight, and its shifting phantasmagoria of 
 capricious creatures, coming into existence only to depart 
 the next instant. 
 
 2. Second, there is the fixed Ocean of the Earth, its 
 undulating and vast waves, as we see them from the tops of 
 "earth o'er gazing mountains," the elevations which testify 
 its antique mobility, and the sublimity of its mightier mount- 
 ains, clad in eternal snows. Third, there is the Ocean of 
 Waters, less mobile than air, less fixed than earth, but 
 docile in its movements, to the celestial l^)die3. 
 
 3. These three things form the gamut by which the In- 
 finite speaks to our souls. Nevertheless, let us point out 
 some rery notable difterences. The Air-ocean is so mobile 
 
3(58 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 that we can scarcely examine it. It deceives ; it decoys ; it 
 diverts ; it dissipates, and breaks up our chain of thought. 
 
 4. For an instant, it is an immense hope, the day of an 
 infinity ; anon, it is not so ; all flies from before us, and our 
 hearts are grieved, agitated, and filled with doubt. Why 
 have I been permitted to see for a moment that immense 
 flood of light ? The memory of that brief gleaming must 
 ever abide with me, and that memory makes all things here 
 on earth look dark. , 
 
 5. The fixed Ocean of the mountains is not thus tran- 
 sient or fugitive ; on the contrary, it stops us at every step, 
 and imposes upon us the necessity of a very hard, though 
 wholesome gymnastic. Contemplation here has to be bought 
 at the price of the most violent action. Nevertheless, the 
 opacity of the earth, like the transparency of the air, fre- 
 quently deceives and bewilders us. Who can forget that, 
 for ten years, Ramon, in vain, sought to reach Mount Perdu\ 
 though often within sight of it ? 
 
 6. Great, very great, is the difference between the two 
 elements ; the earth is mute and the ocean speaks. The 
 ocean is a voice. It speaks to the distant stars ; it answers 
 to their movements in its deep and solemn language. It 
 speaks to the earth on the shores, replying to the echoes 
 that reply again ; by turns wailing, soothing, threatening, 
 its deepest roar is presently succeeded by a sad, pathetic sigh. 
 
 7. And it especially addresses itself to man. It has 
 creation's living eloquence. It is Life speaking to Life! 
 The millions, the countless myriads of beings to which it 
 gives birth, are its words. All these, mingled together, 
 make the unity, i^ great and solemn voice of the ocean. 
 And *'what are those wild waves saying?" They are tell- 
 ing of Life^ — of Immortality. 
 
 8. An indomitable strength is at the bottom of Nature, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. gg9 
 
 how much more so at Nature's summit, the Soul ! And it 
 speaks of partnership, of union. Let us accept the swift 
 exchange which, in the individual, exists between the diverse 
 elements; let us accept the superior Law which unites the 
 living members of the same body — Humanity; and, still 
 more, let us accept and respect the supreme Law which 
 makes us cooperate with the great Soul, associated as we 
 are — in proportion with our powers — with the loving har- 
 mony of the world — copartners in the life of God. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What are three great forms of Nature ? 2. What is said 
 of the Air-ocean ? 3. How does the Ocean address itself to man ? 
 
 ^^^^^.£^^6^^^-^ 
 
 LESSON OVIII. 
 
 Mo nop' LIZ ED, engrossed. I Ec cen trio' i ty, peculiarity ; odd- 
 
 Cel'e BRA TED, praised ; talked of. / Wa' Ri ness, cautiousness. [ity. 
 Po' TENT LY, powerfully. i Ed' i ble, eatable. 
 
 Mar' I TIME, pertaining to sea. j E man' ci pa ted, freed ; liberated. 
 
 Sa Gac' I TY, acuteness. | In ter me' di ate, lying between. 
 
 In tre pid' I TY, daring valor. j Dev' as ta ting, laying waste. 
 
 San' guine, bloody ; cruel. \ Doub' le, sail around. 
 
 ^ Basques, {basks.) an ancient and peculiar people, living on the slopes 
 of the Pyrenees Mountains. 
 
 2 Bre' ton, a native of Brittany, an ancient province in France. 
 
 ^ Nor' man, that is, Northman, a name given to the ancient inhabitants 
 of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden, and, afterward to their descendants 
 who settled in the north of France. 
 
 THE WHALE AND THE WHALER* 
 
 Feom the French of Michelet. 
 
 1. Who opened up to men the great distant navigation ? 
 
 Who revealed the ocean, and marked out its zones and its 
 
 liquid highways ? Who discovered the secrets of the globe ? 
 
 The Whale and the Whaler I And all this before Colum- 
 
 4U 16* 
 
370 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 bus and the famous gold-seekers, who have monopolized all 
 the glory, found again, with much outcry about their dis- 
 covery, what had so long before been discovered by the 
 whalers. 
 
 2. That crossing of the ocean, which was so boastfully 
 celebrated in the fifteenth century, had often been made, not 
 only by the narrow passage between Iceland and Greenland, 
 but, also, by the open sea ; for the Basques' went to New- 
 foundland. The smallest danger was the mere voyage ; for 
 these men, who went to the very end of the then known world, 
 to challenge the whale to single combat, to steer right away 
 into the Northern Sea, to attack the mighty monster, amid 
 darkness and storms, with the dense fog all around, and the 
 foaming waves below, — those who could do this, were not the 
 men to shrink from the ordinary dangers of the voyage. 
 
 8. Noble warfare ! Great school of courage ! That fish- 
 ery was not then^ as it is now^ an easy war to wage, made 
 from a distance, and with a potently murderous machine. 
 No ; the fisher then struck with his own strong hand, im- 
 pelled and guided by his own fearless heart, and he risked 
 life to take life. The men of that day killed but few 
 whales ; but they gained infinitely in maritime ability, in 
 patience, in sagacity, and in intrepidity. They brought 
 back less of oil ; but more^ far more of glory. 
 
 4. Every nation has its own peculiar genius. We recog- 
 nize each by its own style of procedure. There are a hun- 
 dred forms of courage, and these graduated varieties formed, 
 as it were, another heroic game. At the North, the Scan- 
 dinavian, the rude race from Norway to Flanders, had their 
 sanguine fury. At the South, the wild burst, the gay daring, 
 the clear-headed excitement, that impelled, at once, and guided 
 them over the world. In the center, the silent and patient 
 firmness of the Breton', who yet, in the hour of danger, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 37I 
 
 could display a quite sublime eccentricity. And, lastly, the 
 Norman^ wariness, considerately courageous ; daring all, but 
 daring all for success. Such was the beauty of man, in that 
 sovereign manifestation of human courage. 
 
 5. We owe a vast deal to the whale. But for it, the fish- 
 ers would still have hugged the shore; for, almost every 
 edible fish seeks the shore and the river. It was the whale 
 that emancipated them, and led them afar. It led them on- 
 ward, and onward still, until they found it, after having 
 almost unconsciously passed from one world to the other, 
 Greenland did not seduce them; it was not the land that 
 they sought ; but the sea^ and the tracks of the whale. 
 
 6. The ocean at large is its home, and especially the 
 broad and open sea. Each species has its especial prefer- 
 ence for this or that latitude, — for a certain zone of water, 
 more or less cold. And it was that preference which 
 traced out the great divisions of the Atlantic. The tribe of 
 inferior whales, that have a dorsal fin, are to be found in the 
 warmest and in the coldest seas, — under the line and in the 
 polar seas. 
 
 7. In the great intermediate region, the fierce Cachalot 
 inclines toward the south, devastating the warm waters. On 
 the contrary, the Free Whale fears the warm waters, — we 
 should rather say, that they did, formerly, fear them, — they 
 have become so scarce. They are never found in the warm 
 southern current ; it is that fact that led to the current 
 being noticed, and thence to the discovery of the tnie course 
 from America to Europe. From Europe to America, the 
 trade winds will serve us. 
 
 8. If the Free Whale has a perfect horror of the warm 
 waters, and can not pass the equator, it is clear that he can 
 not double the southern end of America. How happens it, 
 then, that when he is wounded on one side of America, in 
 
372 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 the Atlantic, he is sometimes found on the other side of 
 America, and in the Pacific ? It proves that there is a 
 north-western passage. Another discovery which we owe 
 to the whale, and one which throws a broad light alike on 
 the form of the globe, and the geography of the seas ! 
 
 9. By degrees, the whale has led us eyerywhere. Kare 
 as he is at present, he has led us to both poles, from the 
 uttermost recesses of the Pacific to Behring's Strait, and the 
 infinite wastes of the Antarctic waters. There is even an 
 enormous region that no vessel, whether war ship or mer- 
 chantman, ever traverses, at a few degrees beyond the south- 
 ern points of America and Africa. No one visits that 
 region but the whaler. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What has been done by the -whaler? 2. By whom had 
 Newfoundland been discovered ? 3. "What is said of the courage of the 
 whaler ? 4. "What proof is given that there is a north-western passage, by 
 water, from the Atlantic to the Pacific ? 
 
 -*^5e5SP;^Pg* 
 
 LESSON OIX. 
 
 ThrA-Ll' DOM, bondage ; slavery. j Ruf' fian, robber ; cut-throat. 
 
 Ig no' ble, mean ; degraded. \ Serv' ile, slavish ; cringing. 
 
 Horde, clan ; tribe. i Iam! ner$, painters. 
 
 Feud' al, pertaining to military tenure.! Dis ci' ple, learner ; follower. 
 
 Des' pots, tyrants. Corse, corpse ; dead body. 
 
 Pal' try, mean ; contemptible. | Br4WL, wrangle ; contention. 
 
 Rap' ine, {rap in ;) plunder ; violence. \ Dis tain' ed, sullied ; stained. 
 
 For sooth', in truth ; m fact. j Ecu' o ed, resounded. 
 
 ^ Ri en' zi, the last of the Roman Tribunes, was born in Rome about the 
 year 1310. He was assassinated Oct. 8th, 1354. He was a person of ex- 
 traordinary eloquence. In his day, Rome was a prey to a contending faction 
 of noDles. This kept the city In constant turmoil, and subjected the people 
 to continual abuse and tyranny. It was the endeavor of Riena to arouse 
 them to a resolution to be free. 
 
NUMBER FOUR 
 
 873 
 
 RIENZrs^ ADDRESS TO THE ROMANS. 
 
 Miss Mixfokd. 
 
 1. Friends! 
 
 I come not here to talk. You know too well 
 The story of our thralldom. We are slaves ! 
 The bright sun rises to his course, and lights 
 A race of slaves ! He sets, and his last beam 
 Falls on a slave : not such as, swept along 
 By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads 
 To crimson glory and undying fame ; 
 But base, ignoble slaves ! slaves to a horde 
 Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords, 
 Rich in some dozen paltry villages ; 
 Strong in some hundred spearmen; only great. 
 In that strange spell, — a name. 
 
 2. Each hour, dark fraud. 
 Or open rapine, or protected murder. 
 
 Cry out against them. But this very day. 
 An honest man, my neighbor, — there he stands, 
 Was struck, .struck like a dog, by one who wore 
 The badge of Ursini ; because, forsooth, 
 He tossed not high his ready cap in air, 
 Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts, 
 At sight of that great ruffian ! 
 
 3. (/.) Be we men, 
 
   And suffer such dishonor' ? MEN, and wash not 
 
 The stain away in blood' ^ Such shames are common. 
 
 I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to ye, 
 
 I had a brother once, a gracious boy, 
 
 Full of gentleness, of calmest hope. 
 
 Of sweet and quiet joy ; there was the look 
 
374 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Of heaven upon his face, which limners give 
 To the beloved disciple ! 
 
 4. How I loved 
 That gracious boj ! Younger bj fifteen years, 
 Brother at once, and son ! He left my side, 
 A summer bloom on his fair cheek, — a smile 
 Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour, 
 That pretty, harmless boy was slain! (p.) I saw 
 The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried 
 
 For vengeance ! {ff.) Rouse ye, Romans! — rouse ye, slaves! 
 Have ye brave sons ? Look in the next fierce brawl 
 To see them die ! Have ye fair daughters ? Look 
 To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, 
 Dishonored ; and, if ye dare call for justice, 
 Be answered by the lash ! 
 
 5. Yet this is Eome, 
 That sat on her seven hills, and, from her throne 
 Of beauty, ruled the world ! Yet we are Romans ! 
 Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman, 
 
 Was greater than a king ! And once again, — 
 Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
 Of either Brutus ! Once again I swear, 
 The eternal city shall be free ! 
 
 Questions. — 1. In what condition did the writer say the Roman people 
 were ? 2. What wrongs are complained of? 3. What special caaes are 
 mentioned? 4. What are the people exhorted to do? 5. What is the 
 meaning of the sufi&x dom, in the -R^grd ihralldom ? See Analysis, page 
 142, Ex. 189. 6. What is the meaning of the suffix less, in the word harm- 
 less? See page 140, Ex. 18*7. 1. How, according to the notation mark, 
 should the first part of the third verse be read? 8. What rule for the rising 
 inflections, third verse ? See page 28, Rule I. 
 
NUMBER FOUK. 875 
 
 LESSON OX. 
 
 Mul' ti ply, increase ; continue. j Po' tent, powerful. 
 
 Col' tee, part of the plow that cuts \ Road' stead, place where ships 
 
 Ge' ni al, productive. [the sod. '> may anchor. 
 
 Be nig' nant, kind ; bounteous. < Re li' ant, trusting ; depending. 
 
 Saun' ter ing, loitering. | Pes ti len' tial, infectious; noxious. 
 
 "Wood' bine, honeysuckle. Per pet' u al, continual. 
 
 Re splen' DENT, spleudid; beautiful, i fciEii' ile, barren. 
 
 1 Le on' I das, the celebrated Spartan leader who, with three hundred 
 men, perished in the effort to resist the Persian hosts, at the mountain pass 
 of Thermopylse (b. c, 480.) 
 
 ' Mar$' ton, that is, Marston Moor, a place in Yorkshire, England, mem- 
 orable for the defeat of Charles I., (in 1644,) by the forces of Cromwell and 
 others. 
 
 ^ Ban' nock burn, a village in Stirlingshire, Scotland, famous for the 
 battle between the patriots, under Robert Bruce, and the English invading 
 army, under Edward II., fought, June 25, 1314. 
 
 * Ar ma' da, a great naval armament sent by Philip II. of Spain, in 
 1588, for the conquest of England. It failed utterly, however, of its object, 
 having been scattered and disabled by violent storms. 
 
 SOHG OF THE FORGE. 
 
 1. CLAN^a ! clang ! the massive anvils ring, — 
 Clang ! clang ! a hundred hammers swing, 
 Like the thunder-rattle of a tropic sky, 
 The mighty blows still multiply : 
 
 Clang ! clang ! 
 Say, brothers of the dusky brow, 
 What are your strong arms forging now ? 
 
 2. Clang ! clang ! — we forge the colter now — 
 The colter of the kindly plow ; 
 Benignant Father, bless our toil ; 
 
 May its broad furrow still unbind 
 To genial rains, to sun and wind, 
 The most productive soil ! 
 
376 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 3. Clang ! clang ! — our colter's course shall be 
 On many a sweet and sunny lea, 
 
 By many a streamlet's silver tide, 
 Amidst the song of morning birds, 
 Amidst the low of sauntering herds. 
 Amidst soft breezes which do stray 
 Through woodbine-hedges and sweet May, 
 
 Along the green hill's side. 
 
 4. When regal Autumn's bounteous hand, 
 With wide-spread glory clothes the land, — 
 When, to the valleys, from the brow 
 
 Of each resplendent slope, is rolled 
 A ruddy sea of living gold. 
 We bless, — we bless the plow. 
 
 5. Clang ! clang ! — again, my mates, what glows 
 Beneath the hammer's potent blows ? 
 
 Clink ! clank ! — we forge the giant chain, 
 Which bears the gallant vessel's strain, 
 'Midst stormy winds and adverse tides ; 
 Secured by this, the good ship braves 
 The rocky roadstead and the waves 
 Which thunder on her sides. 
 
 6. Anxious no more, the merchant sees 
 The mist drive dark before the breeze.^ 
 The storm-cloud on the hill ; 
 
 Calmly he rests, though, far away 
 In boisterous climes, his vessel lay 
 Reliant on our skill. 
 
 7. Say, on what sands these links shall sleep, 
 Fathoms bsneath the solemn deep^ ? 
 
NUMB EH FOUil. ^^^ 
 
 By Afric's pestilential shore', — 
 By many an iceberg, lone and hoar', — 
 By many a palmy western isle. 
 Basking in spring's perpetual smile', — 
 By stormy Labrador' ? 
 
 8. Say, shall they feel the vessel reel, 
 When, to the battery's deadly peal. 
 The crashing broadside makes reply'? 
 
 Or else, as at the glorious Nile, 
 Hold grappling ships, that strive the while, 
 For death or victory' ? 
 
 9. Hurrah ! — cling ! clang ! — once more, what glows, 
 
 Dark brothers of the forge, beneath 
 The iron tempest of your blows 
 The furnace's fiery breath ? 
 
 10. Clang! clang! — a burning torrent, clear 
 
 And brilliant, of bright sparks is poured 
 Around and up in the dusky air. 
 As our hammers forge the sword. 
 
 11. The sword ! — a name of dread ; yet when 
 Upon the freeman's thigh 'tis bound. 
 
 While for his altar and his hearth, — 
 While for the land that gave him birth, 
 The war-drums roll, the trumpets sound, 
 How sacred is it then ! 
 
 12. Whenever for the truth and right 
 It flashes in the van of fight, 
 Whether in some wild mountain pass 
 As that where fell Leonidas;' 
 
378 SANDERS* UNION SERIES. 
 
 Or on some sterile plain and stern, 
 A Marston" or a Bannockburn;^ 
 Or, mid fierce crags and bursting rills. 
 The Switzer's Alps, gray Tyrol's hills, — 
 Or, as when sunk the Armada's* pride. 
 It gleams above the stormy tide, — 
 Still, still, whene'er the battle word 
 Is Liberty, when men do stand 
 For justice and their native land, 
 
 Then Heaven bless the sword ! . 
 
 > 
 
 Questions. — 1. What things are mentioned as being forged ? 2. "What 
 is said of the colter? 3. What, of the iron cable? 4. What, of the sword? 
 
 LESSON OXI. 
 
 Ben e fac' tion, gift ; favor. j Con so la' tion, comfort. 
 
 E late', flushed with success. < Av' e nue, way ; entrance. 
 
 In her' ent, natural. > A troC i tie$, enormities. 
 
 Per fec' tion, excellence. \ Mock' er y, derision ; ridicule. 
 
 Vig' il$, watchfulness. | Fac' ul tie$, powers of the mind. 
 
 Un brib' ED, not influenced bj gifts. ! Ca pac' i tie$, abilities 
 
 CHOICE EXTRACTS* 
 I. 
 
 SWIFTNESS OF TIME. 
 
 Idlkb. 
 
 Let him that desires to see others happy, make haste to 
 give while his gift can be enjoyed, and remember that every   
 moment of delay takes away something from the value of his 
 benefaction. And let him who proposes his own happiness, 
 reflect, that while he forms his purpose, the day rolls on, 
 and " the night cometh when no man can work." 
 
NUMBER FOUR. g'jrg 
 
 II. 
 
 THE SHIP OF STATE. 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 Thou, too, sail on, Ship of State ! 
 Sail on, Union, strong and great ! 
 Humanity, with all its fears, 
 With all the hopes of future years. 
 Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
 We know what Master laid thy keel, 
 What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, 
 Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 
 What anvils rang, what hammers beat, 
 In what a forge, and what a heat. 
 Were shaped the anchors of thy hope. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE TRUE HEKO. 
 
 Horace Busiinkll. 
 
 The true hero is the great, wise man of duty, — he whose 
 soul is armed by truth and suppo4-ted by the smile of God, — 
 he who meets life's perils with a cautious but tranquil 
 spirit, gathers strength by facing its storms, and dies, if he 
 is called to die, as a Christian victor at the post of duty. 
 And, if we must have heroes, and wars wherein to make 
 them, there is none so brilliant as a war with wrong, — no 
 hero so fit to to be sung as he who hath gained the bloodless 
 victory of truth and mercy. 
 
 IV. 
 
 HEART ESSENTIAL TO GENIUS. 
 
 W. Gr. SIMMS. 
 
 We are not always equal to our fate. 
 
 Nor true to our conditions. Doubt and fear 
 Beset the bravest, in their high career. 
 
 At moments when the soul, no more elate 
 
g30 SA^'DERS' UKION SERIES. 
 
 With expectation, sinks beneath the time. 
 
 The masters have their weakness. " I would climb," 
 
 Said Raleigh, gazing on the highest hill, — 
 "But that I tremble with the fear to fall.'' 
 
 Apt was the answer of the high-souled queen : 
 "If thy heart fail thee, never climb at all !" 
 The heart ! if that be sound, confirms the rest, 
 
 Crowns genius with his lion will and mien, 
 And, from the conscious virtue in the breast, 
 To trembling nature gives both strength and will. 
 
 EDUCATION. 
 
 Addison. 
 
 I consider a human soul without education, like marble in 
 the quarry, which shows none of its inherent beauties until 
 the skill of the polisher fetches out the colors, makes the 
 surface shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot, 
 and vein that runs through the body of it. Education, after 
 the same manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws 
 out every latent virtue and perfection, which, without such 
 helps, are never able to make their appearance. 
 
 VI. 
 
 THE VANITY OF WEALTH. 
 
 Db. JoHirsoK. 
 
 No more thus brooding o'er yon heap. 
 
 With av'rice painful vigils keep • 
 
 Still unenjoyed the present store. 
 
 Still endless sighs are breathed for more. 
 
 Oh ! quit the shadow, catch the prize. 
 
 Which not all India's treasure buys ! 
 
 To purchase Heaven has gold the power' ? 
 
DUMBER FOUR. gg-j^ 
 
 Can gold remove the mortal hour' ? 
 In life, can love be bought with gold' ? 
 Are friendships pleasures to be sold' ? 
 No^ ; all that's worth a wish — a thought, 
 Fair Virtue gives unbribed, un bought. 
 Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind ; 
 Let nobler views engage thy mind. 
 
 VII. 
 
 CONSOLATION OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 A. Alkxandee, 
 
 Oh, precious gospel ! Will any merciless hand endeavor 
 to tear away from our hearts, this last, this sweetest conso- 
 lation' ? Would you darken the only avenue through which 
 one ray of hope can enter' ? Would you tear from the aged 
 and infirm poor the only prop on which their souls can repose 
 in peace' ? Would you deprive the dying of their only 
 source of consolation' ? Would you rob the world of its 
 richest treasure' ? Would you let loose the flood-gates of 
 every vice, and bring back upon the earth the horrors of 
 superstition, or the atrocities of atheism' ? Then endeavor 
 to subvert the gospeP ; throw around you the firebrands of 
 infidelity^ ; laugh at religion, and make a mockery of futu- 
 rity^ ; but be assured that for all these things, God will bring 
 you into judgment \ 
 
 Vlll. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF HOPE. 
 
 O. W. B. Pbabodt. 
 
 1. Oh, who that has gazed, in the stillness of even, 
 On the fast-fading hues of the west. 
 Has seen not afar, in the bosom of heaven, 
 Some bright little mansion of rest, 
 
382 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And mourned that the path to a region so fair 
 
 Should be shrouded with sadness and fears ; — 
 That the night ^vinds of sorrow, misfortune, and care, 
 Should sweep from the deep-rolling waves of despair, 
 To darken this cold world of tears ? 
 
 2. And who that has gazed, has not longed for an hour, 
 
 When misfortune forever shall cease ; 
 And Hope, like the rainbow, unfold, through the shower, 
 
 Her bright- written promise of peace ? 
 And, oh ! if that rainbow of promise may shine 
 
 On the last scene of life's winter j gloom, 
 May its light in the moment of parting be mine ; 
 I ask but one ray from a source so divine, 
 
 To brighten the vale of the tomb. 
 
 IX. 
 
 r 
 PAMPERING THE BODY AND STARVINQ THE SOUL. 
 
 Edward Evkrett. 
 
 1. What'' ! feed a child's body, and let his soul hunger' ? 
 pamper his limbs, and starve his faculties'? Plant the earth, 
 cover a thousand hills with your droves of cattle, pursue the 
 fish to their hiding-places in the sea, and spread out your 
 wheat-fields across the plain, in order to supply the wants 
 of that body which will soon be as cold and as senseless as 
 the poorest clod, and let the pure spiritual essence within 
 you, with all its glorious capacities for improvement, languish 
 and pine' ? 
 
 2. What^ ! build factories, turn in rivers upon the water- 
 wheels, unchain the imprisoned spirits of steam, to weave a 
 garment tor the body, and let the soul remain unadorned 
 and naked' ? What^ ! send out your vessels to the furthest 
 ocean, and make battle with the monsters of the deep, in 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 333 
 
 order to obtain the means of ligliting up your dwellings and 
 workshops, and prolonging the hours of labor for the meat 
 that perisheth, and permit that vital spark, which God has 
 kindled, which He has intrusted to our care, to be fanned 
 into a bright and heavenly flame, — permit it, I say, to lan- 
 guish and go out' ? 
 
 3. What considerate man can enter a school, and not re- 
 flect, with awe, that it is a seminary where immortal minds 
 are training for eternity' ? What parent but is, at times, 
 weighed down with the thought, that tliei^e must be laid the 
 foundations of a building which Avill stand, when not merely 
 temple and palace, but the perpetual hills and adamantine 
 rocks on w^hich they rest, have melted away^ ! — that a light 
 may there be kindled which will shine, not merely when 
 every artificial beam is extinguished, but wlien the affrighted 
 sun has fled away from the heavens^ ? 
 
 LESSOr OXII. 
 
 Fruit' age, collection of fruits. ^ Ban' isn ed, driven out ; expelled. 
 
 "Wax' e$, grows ; increases. \ Re new' ed, made new again. 
 
 Ju' Bi LANT, joyous. \ Ma tur' ing, ripening. 
 
 Tinge, imbue. < Tint' age, produce of the vine. 
 
 Glo' ri fi ed, exalted to glory. \ Dis loy' al ty, unfaithfulness. 
 
 Un wa' ry, incautious. \ Be queath' ed, left by mheritance. 
 
 Fam' ish ed, afflicteid with hunger. < Con bid' er ate, thoughtful. 
 
 Ee viv' I FY, (re, again; viv, live; ify, to make;) to make alive again; 
 to bring to life ; renew. 
 
 WE ALL DO FADE AS A LEAF. 
 
 Gail IIamiltoit. 
 
 1. " We all do fade as a leaf^ Change is the essence of 
 life, "Passing away," is written on all things; and 'passing 
 away is passing en from strength to strength, from glory to 
 
g34 SANDERS' UNION SERIES, 
 
 glorj. Spring has its growth, summer its fruitage, and 
 autumn its festive in-gathering. The spring of eager prep- 
 aration waxes into the summer of noble work ; mellowing in 
 its turn into the serene autumn, the golden-brown haze of 
 October, when the soul may robe itself in jubilant drapery, 
 awaiting the welcome command, "Come up higher," where 
 mortality shall be swallowed up in life. 
 
 2. Whyj then, should autumn tinge our thoughts with 
 sadness. We fade as the leaf, and the leaf fades only to 
 revivify. Though it fall, it shall rise again. Does the bud 
 fear to become a blossom, or the blossom shudder as it swells 
 into fruit ; and shall the redeemed weep that they must 
 become glorified' ? Strange mconsistency^ ! We faint with 
 the burden and the heat of the day. We bow down under 
 the crosses that are laid upon our shoulders. We are 
 bruised and torn by the snares and pitfalls which beset our 
 way, and into which our unwary feet often fall. 
 
 3. We are famished, and foot-sore, and travel-stained, 
 from our long journey, and yet we are saddened by tokens 
 that we shall pass away from all these, — away from sin and 
 sorrow, from temptation and fall, from disappointment, and 
 weary waiting, and a fearful looking-for of evil, to purity 
 and holiness, and the full fruition of every hope, — bliss 
 which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor heart conceived, 
 — to a world whence all that made this dreary is forever 
 banished, and where all that made this delightful is forever 
 renewed and increased, ^ — a world where the activities and 
 energies of the soul shall have full scope, and love and 
 recognition wait upon its steps forever. 
 
 4. Let him alone fear, who does not fade as the leaf, — 
 him whose sources are not in God, and who does not draw 
 his life thence, — him whose spring is gathering no strength, 
 "whose summer is maturinoj no frtrit, and whose autumn shall 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 3g5 
 
 have no vintage. Is not this the real sorrow of us all ? not 
 a dread of change, but a secret consciousness of wasted 
 power, — of disloyalty to God, as the supreme object of our 
 love and service. 
 
 5. Yet even here the fading leaf brings hope. Our future 
 is always before us. The past is fixed. No tears can wash 
 away its facts. Let us waste no vain regrets upon it ; but, 
 from the wisdom which its very mistakes and sins have 
 bequeathed us, start afresh on the race. Though yester- 
 day we were weak, and selfish, and indolent, let us to-day — 
 at this moment — begin to be strong, and brave, and helpful, 
 and just, and generous, and considerate, and tender, and 
 truthful, and pure, and patient, and forgiving. "Now" is 
 a glorious word. "Henceforth" is always within our 
 grasp. 
 
 Questions. — 1. To what are we compared ? 2. What is said of change ? 
 3. "What change takes place in the leaf? 4. What, in man ? 5. Who have 
 reason to fear ? 6. What is said of the past and the future ? 
 
 LESSON OXIII. 
 
 Un heed' ED, not regarded. C At tuk' ed, put in tunc. 
 
 Ex P0$' ED, unprotected. j Es sen' tial, real ; true. 
 
 Ex hort' ED, urged ; persuaded. \ An noting' ed, proclaimed. 
 
 TEACHINGS OF MATURE. 
 
 PoLLoa. 
 
 1. The seasons came and went, and went and came, 
 To teach men gratitude ; and, as they passed, 
 Gave warning of the lapse of time, that else 
 Had stolen unheeded by : the gentle flowers 
 Retired, and, stooping o'er the wilderness, 
 Talked of humility, and peace, and love. 
 4U 17 
 
386 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 The dews came down unseen at evening tide, 
 
 And silently their bounties shed, to teach ^ 
 
 Mankind unostentatious charitj. 
 
 2. With arm in arm the forest rose on high, 
 And lesson gave of brotherly regard ; 
 And, on the rugged mountain brow exposed, 
 Bearing the blast alone, the ancient oak 
 Stood, lifting high his mighty arm, and still 
 To courage in distress exhorted loud. 
 
 The flocks, the herds, the birds, the streams, the breeze, 
 Attuned the heart to melody and love. 
 
 3. Mercy stood in the cloud, with eye that wept 
 Essential love ; and, from her glorious brow, 
 Bending to kiss the earth in token of peace, 
 With her own lips, her gracious lips, which God 
 Of sweetest accent made, she whispered still, 
 She whispered to Eevenge, Forgive ! forgive ! 
 
 4. The Sun, rejoicing round the earth, announced 
 Daily the wisdom, power, and love of God. 
 The Moon awoke, and, from her maiden face 
 Shedding her cloudy locks, looked meekly forth, 
 And, with her virgin stars, walked in the heavens,— 
 Walked nightly there, conversing as she walked 
 
 Of purity, and holiness, and God. 
 
 5. In dreams and visions, sleep instructed much. 
 Day uttered speech to day, and night to night 
 Taught knowledge : silence had a tongue : the grave, 
 The darkness, and the lonely waste, had each 
 
 A tongue, that ever said, Man ! think of God I 
 Think of thyself ! think of eternity ! 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 337 
 
 6. Fear God, the thunders said ; Fear God, the waves ; 
 Fear God, the lightning of the storm replied ; 
 F^ar God, deep loudly answered back to deep. 
 And, in the temples of the Holy One, 
 Messiah's messengers, the faithful few, 
 Faithful 'mong many false, the Bible opened, 
 And cried : Eepent ! repent, ye Sons of Men ! 
 Believe, be saved. 
 
 Questions. — 1. What do the seasons teach? 2. What, the trees? 3. 
 What, the sun and moon ? 4. What, Messiah's messengers? 
 
 LESSON OXIV. 
 
 Be deck' ED, adorned. \ Sev' er ed, rent ; sundered. 
 
 An ray', dress ; attire. j En cir' cled, inclosed ; surrounded. 
 
 Man' tled, spread ; rushed. < Sa' ble$, mourning clothes. 
 De vo' tion, attachment. Gift' ed, talented. 
 
 Idol'atrous, excessive. 5 Found' ed, established. 
 
 Al lure', (al, to ; lure, draw ;) draw to ; entice. ^ 
 
 PASSI]«G UNDER THE ROD.* 
 
 Mary S. B. Dana. 
 
 1. I SAW the young bride, in her beauty and pride, 
 Bedecked in her snowy array ; 
 And the bright flush of joy mantled high on her cheek, 
 And the future looked blooming and gay : 
 
 * These lines are founded on the following passage of Jewish history : — 
 " It was the custom of tlie Jews to select the tenth of their sheep after this 
 manner : The lambs were separated from their dams, and inclosed in a sheep- 
 cot, with only one narrow way out ; the lambs hastened to join the dams, 
 and a man, placed at the entrance, with a rod dipped in ocher, touched every 
 tenth lamb, and so marked it with his rod, saying, ' Let this be holt.' 
 Hence, God says by his prophet, ^ I will c<Jtuse you to pass under ihs rod.^ '* 
 
388 
 
 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And with a woman's devotion she laid her fond heart 
 
 At the shrine of idolatrous love ; 
 And she anchored her hopes to this perishing earth, 
 
 By the chain which her tenderness wove. 
 But I saw, when those heartstrings were bleeding and torn, 
 
 And the chain had been severed in two. 
 She had changed her white robes for the sables of grief, 
 
 And her bloom for the paleness of woe ! 
 But the Healer was there, pouring balm on her heart, 
 
 And wiping the tears from her eyes ; 
 And He strengthened the chain He had broken in twain. 
 
 And fastened it firm to the skies ! 
 There had whispered a voice, — 'twas the voice of her God : 
 "I love thee — I love thee — pass under the rodP^ 
 
 2. 1 saw the young mother in tenderness bend 
 
 O'er the couch of her slumbering boy ; 
 And she kissed the soft lips as they murmured her name, 
 
 While the dreamer lay smiling in joy. 
 .Oh, sweet as the rose-bud encircled with dew. 
 
 When its fragrance is flung on the air, 
 So fresh and so bright to that mother he seemed, 
 
 As he lay in his innocence there. 
 But I saw when she gazed on the same lovely form, 
 
 Pale as marble, and silent, and cold, 
 But paler and colder her beautiful boy, 
 
 And the tale of her sorrow was told ! 
 But the Healer was there, who had stricken her heart, 
 
 And taken her treasure away ; 
 To allure her to heaven, He has placed it on high, 
 
 And the mourner will sweetly obey. 
 There had whispered a voice, — 'twas the voice of her God : 
 **I love thee — I love thee — vass under the rodP^ 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 3§9 
 
 3. 1 saw, too, a father and mother who leaned 
 
 On the arms of a dear gifted son ; 
 And the star in the future grew bright to their gaze, 
 
 As they saw the proud place he had won ; 
 And the fast coming evening of life promised fair, 
 
 And its pathway grew smooth to their feet, 
 And the starlight of love glimmered bright at the 2nd, 
 
 And the whispers of fancy were sweet. 
 And I saw them again, bending low o'er the grave. 
 
 Where their hearts^ dearest hope had been laid ; 
 And the star had gone down in the darkness of night. 
 
 And the joy from their bosoms had fled. 
 But the Healer was there, and His arms were around, 
 
 And He led them with tenderest care ; 
 And He showed them a star in the bright upper world, 
 
 'Twas their star shining brilliantly there ! 
 They had each heard a voice, — 'twas the voice of their God : 
 "I love thee — I love thee — pass under the rodV^ 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What custom is allude 1 to, in the passage "-I will cause 
 you to pass under the rod ?" See note. 2. Where is that passage found in 
 the Scriptures ? Ans. Ezekiel, 20th chap. 37th verse. 3. What instances are 
 mentioned of individuals ^^ passing under the rodV 
 
 • LESSON OXV. 
 
 Pet' u lant, cross ; fretful. ( Ap pel la' tion, name ; title. 
 Ca lam' I ty, misfortune. Ye' he ment, violent ; furious. 
 
 Sa tir' ic al, keenly severe ; cutting. Yo cif er a' tion$, loud outcries. 
 
 Nui' saxce, annoyance. i Men' a ce$, threats. 
 
 Just' i fy, give a right to. | Cen' sur ed, blamed. 
 Stu pid' I ty, extreme dullness. Yin di ca' tion, justification. 
 
 Cul' pa ble, blamable ; censurable, j LoN gev' i ty, length of life. 
 
 Ie EI TA bil' I TY, excitableness. < Con tempt' i ble, despicable. 
 
390 SANDERS' UNION SERIJejS. 
 
 THE PETULAKT MAN. 
 
 OSBORNB. 
 
 Mr. Grim — Michael — Cousin Mary. 
 
 Cousin Mary More breezes ? What terrible thing has 
 happened now. Cousin Grim ? What's the matter ? 
 
 Grim. Matter enough, I should think ! I sent this stu- 
 pid fellow to bring me a pair of boots from the closet ; and 
 he has wrought me two rights, instead of a right and left. 
 
 Cousin. What a serious calamity ! But, perhaps, he 
 thought it was but right to leave the le/L 
 
 G?Hm. None of your jokes, if you please. This is noth- 
 ing to laugh at. 
 
 Cousin. So it would seem, from the expression on your 
 face, — rather something to storm at, roar at, and fall into a 
 frenzy about. 
 
 Michael. That's right. Miss; give him a piece of your 
 mind ! He's the crossest little man I have met with in the 
 new country. You might scrape old Ireland with a fine- 
 tooth comb, and not find such another. 
 
 Grim. How dare you talk to me in that style ? I'll dis- 
 charge you this very day ! 
 
 Michael. I'm thinking of discharging you, if you don't 
 take better care of that sweet temper of yours. 
 
 Grim. Leave the room, sir ! 
 
 Michael. That I will, in search of better company, saving 
 the lady's presence. [Exit. 
 
 Grim. There, cousin ! there is a specimen of my provoca- 
 tions ! Can you wonder at my losing my temper ? 
 
 Cousin. Cousin Grim, that would be the most fortunate 
 thing that could befall you. 
 
 Grim. What do you mean ? 
 
 Cousin. I mean, if you could only lose that temper of 
 yours, it would be a blessed thing for you ; though I should 
 pity the poor fellow who found it. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 
 
 391 
 
 Grim. You are growing satirical in your old age, Cousin 
 Mary. 
 
 Cousin. Cousin Grim, hear the plain truth : your ill 
 temper makes you a nuisance to yourself and every body 
 about you. 
 
 Grim. Really, Miss Mary Somerville, you are getting to 
 be complimentary ! 
 
 Cousin. No ; I am getting to be candid. I have passed 
 a week in your house, on your invitation. I leave you this 
 afternoon ; but, before I go, I mean to speak my mind. 
 
 Grim. It seems to me that you have spoken it rather 
 freely already. 
 
 Cousin. What was there, in the circumstance of poor 
 Michael's bringing you the wrong boots, to justify your fly- 
 ing into a rage, and bellowing as if your life had teen 
 threatened ? 
 
 Grim. That fellow is perpetually making just such pro- 
 voking blunders ! 
 
 Cousin. And do you never make provoking blunders' ? 
 Didn't you send me five pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote 
 for Souchong' ? Didn't you send a carriage for me to the 
 cars, half an hour too late, so that I had to hire one myself, 
 after great trouble' ? And did I roar at you, when we met, 
 because you had done these things' ? 
 
 Grim. On the contrary, this is the first time you have 
 alluded to them. I am sorry they should have happened. 
 But surely you should make a distinction between any such 
 little oversight of mine, and the stupidity of a servant, hired 
 to attend to your orders. 
 
 Cousin. I do not admit that there should be a distinction. 
 You are both human ; only, as you have had the better edu- 
 cation, and the greater advantages, stupidity or neglect on 
 your part, is much the more culpable. 
 
592 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Grim. Thank you ! Go on. 
 
 Cousin. I mean to; so don't be impatient. If an un- 
 cooked potato, or a burnt mutton-chop, happens to fall to 
 your lot at the dinner-table, what a tempest follows ! One 
 would think you had been wronged, insulted, trampled on, 
 driven to despair. Your face is like a thunder-cloud, all the 
 rest of the meal. Your poor wife endeavors to hide her 
 tea^js. Your children feel timid and miserable. Your guest 
 feels as if she would like to see you held under the nose of 
 the pump, and thoroughly ducked. 
 
 Grim. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, 
 and the driver has put on your baggage. 
 
 Cousin. I have hired that carriage by the hour, and so am 
 in no hurry. Your excuse for your irritability will be, I 
 suppose, that it is constitutional^ and not to be controlled. 
 A selfish, paltry, miserable excuse ! I have turned down a 
 leaf in Dr. Johnson's works, and will read what he says in 
 regard to tempers like yours. 
 
 Grim. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson I Cousin, I 
 can not endure it ! Dr. Johnson is a bore ! 
 
 Cousin. Oh, yes ! to evil-doers^ — but to none else. Hear 
 him : '' There is in the world a class of mortals known, and 
 contentedly known, by the appellation of passiotiate men, 
 who imagine themselves entitled, by this distinction, to be 
 provoked on every slight occasion, and to vent their rage in 
 vehement and fierce vociferations, in furious menaces, and 
 licentious reproaches." 
 
 Grim. That will do. 
 
 Cousin. ''Men of this kind," he tells us, "are often 
 pitied rather than censured, and are not treated with the 
 severity which their neglect of the ease of all about them, 
 might justly provoke." But he adds : '' It is surely not to be 
 observed without indignation, that men maybe found of minds 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 393 
 
 mean enough to be satisfied -with this treatment ; wretches 
 "who are proud to obtain the privilege of madmen, and " 
 
 Grim. I will hear no more ! Have done ! 
 
 Cousin. So the shaft went home ! I am not sorry. 
 
 Grim. No one but a meddlesome old maid would thinly 
 of insulting a man in his own house. 
 
 Cousin. So, when at a loss for a vindication, you reproach 
 me with being an old maid ! Cousin, it does not distress me, 
 either to be an old maid, or to be called one. I must, how- 
 ever, remark, that the manhood that can charge against a 
 woman her single state, either as a matter of ridicule or re- 
 proach, is not quite up to my standard. 
 
 Grim. Cousin Mary, I ask your pardon ! But am I, in- 
 deed, the petulant, disagreeable fellow, you would make me 
 out? 
 
 Cousin. My dear Caspar, you are generous enough in 
 large things ; but, oh ! consider that trifles make up a 
 good portion of the sum of life ; and so "a small unkind^ 
 ness is a great offense.^^ "Why not be cheerful, sunny, 
 genial^ in little things ? Why not look on the bright side ? 
 Why not present an unruffled front to petty annoyances ? 
 Why not labor, — ay, labor, — to have those around you 
 happy and contented, by reflecting from yourself such a 
 frame of mind upon them ? 
 
 Life is short, at the best ; why not make it cheerful ? Do 
 you know that longevity is promoted by a tranquil, happy 
 habit of thought and temper' ? Do you know that cheerful- 
 ness, like mercy, is twice blessed; blessing "him that gives, 
 and him that takes' ?" Do you know that good manners, as 
 well as good sense, demand that we should look at objects 
 on their bright side' ? Do you know that it is contemptible 
 selfishness in you to shed gloom and sorrow over a whole 
 family by your moroseness and ill-humor' ? 
 4U 17* 
 
394 SANDERS' UI^ION SERIES. 
 
 Grim. Cousin Mary, the patience with which I have lis- 
 tened to your cutting remarks, will prove to jou, I hope, that, 
 notwithstanding mj angry retorts, I am convinced there is 
 much truth in what you have said of me. I have a favor to 
 ask. Send away your carriage; stay a week longer, — a 
 month, — a year, if you will. Hold the lash over this ugly 
 temper of mine, — and I give you my word that I will set 
 about the cure of it in earnest. 
 
 Cousin. You should have begun earlier, — in youth, when 
 the temper is pliable, and strong impressions can work great 
 changes. But we will not despair. I will tarry with you a 
 while, just to see if you are serious in your wish for a refor- 
 mation, and to help you bring it about. 
 
 Grim. Thank you. We hear of reformed drunkards, and 
 reformed thieves ; and whtj may not a petulant temper he 
 reformed^ by a system of total abstinence from all harsh, un- 
 kind moods and expressions ? Come, we will try. 
 
 Questions.—!. At what was Mr. Grim offended ? 2. What did Cousin 
 Mary say would be fortunate for him ? 3. What blunder had Mr. Grim 
 made? 4. How did he often behave at the table? 5. What does Dr. 
 Johnson say of such men? 6. What did Cousin Mary finally say to him? 
 •7. Of what was he convinced ? 8. What did he resolve to do ? 
 
 LESSON OXVI. 
 
 Bag' ri tice, religious offering, j Wa' ver ed, hesitated. 
 Straight, Immediately. Im par' tial, jujt ; free from bias. 
 
 Scur' vy, low ; mean. Re fer', leave to another. 
 
 Scru'ple, hesitate. Par' don, forgive. 
 
 Endure', suffer; tolerate. Ghee, kind of butter used in India. 
 
 Im pure', filthy ; unclean. \ Dis trust' ing, suspecting, 
 
 Ut'terly, entirely; completely. \ Pal'pable, obvious; Evident. 
 
 Blbm'ish, defect; deformity. 1 L^ud'ing, praising. 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 395 
 
 THE BRAHMIN AND THE ROGUES.* 
 
 AN EASTERN FABLE. 
 
 Versified by J. N. MoEujaoTT. 
 
 1. A Brahmin went out, the legends say, 
 To buy him a sheep a certain day ; 
 For he had solemnly vowed to slay, 
 
 In sacrifice, a sheep that day. 
 
 And wanted a sheep his vow to pay. 
 
 Three neighboring rogues 
 
 (The cunning dogs !) 
 
 Finding this out, , 
 
 Went straight about 
 (Moved, I ween, by the very Old Nick,) 
 To play the Brahmin a scurvy trick. 
 
 2. So one of them met him with the cry : — 
 
 " Brahmin ! Brahmin ! won't you buy 
 A beautiful sheep ? for here have I 
 A beautiful sheep for sacrifice. 
 As ever was seen by mortal eyes." 
 
 8. ''Where is your sheep?" replied the Brahmin; 
 Bring him out here, and let me examine." 
 
 With that the wag 
 
 Opened a bag. 
 
 And out he drew 
 
 To public view 
 An ugly, dirty, horrible dog ! 
 Blind as a bat, and lame as a frog 
 
 * The fable, here thrown into verse, is related in English prose by Macau- 
 lay, who tiays : — " Thus, or yearly thus, if we remember rightly, runs tl^Q 
 Btory of the Sanscrit ^sop." 
 
g96 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 With a broken leg, climbing a log, 
 Or limping slowly over a bog. 
 
 4. "Wretch I" said the Bralftnin indignant, "who 
 Shamelessly utterest things untrue. 
 
 And dost without a scruple endure 
 To handle creatures the most impure. 
 How darest thou call that cur a sheep^ ? 
 Do you think, foul knave, that I'm asleep'?" 
 
 5. " Cur' P'' said the fellow with steady tone; 
 A sheep it is, and a sheep alone ; 
 
 A sheep (see here, what a splendid fleece !) 
 With flesh the sweetest, and fat as grease ; 
 
 And such a prize 
 
 For sacrifice. 
 As neither gods nor men can despise, 
 Unless they both have dust in their eyes I" 
 " Sir," said the Brahmin, surprised to find 
 A person so utterly out of his mind, 
 'Tis certain that you or / am blind. 
 
 6. Then stepping up. 
 Patting the pup, 
 
 Rogue the second, as if amazed. 
 While on the dog he steadily gazed. 
 Exclaims aloud : — " The gods be praised ! 
 Since I've no need to market to go 
 To buy me a sheep ; for here's one so 
 From spot and blemish perfectly free, 
 That better could not possibly be. 
 
 IsrCt it nice^ ? 
 
 What's your price' ?" 
 
DUMBER FOUR. 
 
 7. The Brahmin, seeing this singular thing, 
 Wavered in mind, like one in a swing ; 
 Yet answered the stranger, firmly, — " Sir, 
 This isn't a sheep, but only a cur." 
 ^^CurT^ with disdain, the new-comer said; 
 "Why, man, you're surely out of your head !" 
 
 8. As this occurred, 
 Came rogue the third, 
 
 To whom, as being a witness new, 
 
 And likely to take impartial view, 
 
 Brahmin proposed at once to refer, 
 
 Whether the creature was sheep or cur. 
 
 All being agreed, the eager priest 
 
 Said : — " Stranger, what do you call this beast ? 
 
 *'A sheep ^ to be sure !" the knave replied; 
 
 " As fine a sheep as ever you spied." 
 
 9. "Well," said the Brahmin, " the gods this day 
 Have surely taken my senses away !" 
 
 Then begging the rogue 
 
 That carried the dog. 
 To pardon him for doubting his word, 
   He, with a readiness most absurd. 
 Purchased the creature with rice and ghee. 
 Which went, of course, to the worthless three. 
 And which they shared with wonderful glee. 
 
 10. Thus taken in, 
 
 The poor Brahmin 
 Offered it up. 
 The filthy pup. 
 
 897 
 
398 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 Which so offended the gods, that they 
 Sent sore disease his folly to pay : 
 Thinking it right the man to chastise 
 For so distrusting his natural eyes, 
 And being led by palpable liea 
 To offer a dog as a sacrifice. • 
 
 * MORAL. 
 
 Look out for the arts of the puffing tribe, — 
 
 People that praise for the sake of a bribe; 
 
 Lavishly lauding a book or a pill, 
 
 Or any thing else the pocket to fill ; 
 
 Singing Simplicity fast asleep, 
 
 And making her dream a dog's a sheep. 
 
 Questions. — 1. "What trick did the three rogues play off on the Brahmin ? 
 2. In what way did they do this ? 3. What moral is taught in this fable ? 
 
 LESSON OXVII. 
 
 E LAS tic' I TY, returning vigor. j Im per' ti iraiNCE, that which is not 
 
 Mm' I PiE$, lessens ; makes small \ pertinent. 
 
 Deg ra da' tion, abasement. j Sus pi" cious, distrustful 
 
 Es TRANa' E$, alienates. [alms. | E con' my, frugality. . , 
 
 Un 4LM$' ED, not having received \ Tran' quil, calm ; undisturbed. 
 
 Ha bit' u al, accustomed, [pense. \ Be numb' ing, dull ; stunefying. 
 
 Ex trav' a gance, superfluous ex- \ Im prov' i dence, wastefulness. 
 
 LIVING WITHIN OUR MEANS. 
 
 S. W. Paetbidok. 
 
 1. Oh, beware of debt ! 
 
 It crushes out the manhood of a man, 
 Robs his bright eje of boldness, cheats his limbs 
 Of elasticity, unnerves his hand, 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 399 
 
 Beclouds his judgment, dulls his intellect, 
 Perils his uprightness, and stains his name, 
 And minifies him to his fellow-men ; 
 Yea, far worse degradation, to himself. 
 
 2. Who hath the hurried step, the anxious eye. 
 Avoids the public haunt and open street. 
 And anxious waits for evening? Restlessly 
 Tosses upon his bed, and dreads the approach 
 
 Of the tell-tale morning sunlight? Who, unmanned, 
 Starts at the sudden knock, and shrinks with dread 
 E'en at his own shadow ; shuns with care 
 The stranger's look, skulks from his fellow's glance, 
 And sees in every man a creditor ? 
 
 3. The debtor ; — he is only half a man ; 
 
 He saddens and estranges his chief friends. 
 Burdens his dearest relatives ; he hears 
 In vain the stranger^ tale, the widow's prayer, 
 And sends away the orphan all unalmsed. 
 None dare to place him in a post of trust, 
 And business men regard him with a shrug. 
 
 4. "Owe no man aught." Stand in the world erect, 
 And lean alone upon thyself and God. 
 
 The habitual borrower will be ever found 
 Wicked, or weak, or both. Sweat, study, stint, 
 Yea, rather any thing than meanly owe. 
 Let thine own honest hands feed thee and thine, 
 And, if not thy friend's purse, at least, respect 
 Thine own sweet independence. 
 
 5. Have fewest wants : the book, however good, 
 
 * Thou shouldst not purchase, let it go unbought ; 
 
400 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 And fashion's vests by thee be all unworn. 
 
 Soon luxuries become necessities, 
 
 But self-denying thrift more joy affords 
 
 Than all the pleasures of extravagance. 
 
 A cottage, free from clamorous creditors, 
 
 Is better than a mansion dunned ; a coat, 
 
 However darned, if paid for, hath an ease, 
 
 And a respectability beside : 
 
 Gay, ill-afforded vests can never boast. 
 
 6. However cheap, 
 
 Whate'er thou want'st not, buy not. That is dear, 
 
 A mere extravagant impertinence, 
 
 For "which thou hast no need. Feel first the want 
 
 Ere it be satisfied : bargains full oft 
 
 Are money- wasting things, that prudent men 
 
 Will keep afar from with suspicious eye ; 
 
 Perchance to any but of little use. 
 
 And to themselves, most likely, none at all. 
 
 7. The habit of economy once formed, 
 'Tis easy to attain to prosperous things. 
 
 Thou then shalt lend, not borrow : shalt not want 
 A helping trifle when thy friend hath need. 
 Or means to seize an opportunity, — 
 Seed-coin, to ensure a harvest. Thou shalt then 
 Want not an alms for pinching poverty ; 
 And, though a sudden sickness dam the stream, 
 And cut off thy supplies, thou shalt lie down 
 And view thy morrows with a tranquil eye; 
 Even benumbing age shall scare thee not, 
 But find thee unindebted, and secure 
 From all the penury and wretchedness 
 That dog the footsteps of improvidencQ. 
 
SiuMber four. 4Q2 
 
 LESSON OXVIII. 
 
 Oil nip' TENT, all-powerful, j Om nis' cience, knowledge of all 
 
 In ter'mi na ble, endless. things. 
 
 Milk' y-Wat, galaxy ; luminous cir- 1 Per tub ba'' tion$, irregularities of 
 
 As' tbal, starry, [cle in the heavens. Ab' SO lute, entire. [motion^ 
 
 In fin' I tube, unlimited extent. Pre cis' ion, exactness. 
 
 Im pet' u ous, rushing. \ Ad just' ments, arrangements. 
 
 Astron'omer, one skilled in the | Ret'inue, company. 
 
 science of the stars. | Sat' el lites, small planets revolv 
 
 Ap prox' I mate LY, nearly. ^ ing round others. 
 
 GRAMDEUR OF THE UNIVERSE* 
 
 O. M. MlTCHEL. 
 
 1. If jou would know the glo)y of the Omnipotent Ruler 
 of the universe, examine the interminable range of suns and 
 systems which crowd the Milky-Way. Multiply the hun- 
 dred millions of stars which belong to our own "island 
 universe" by the thousands of these astral systems that exist 
 in space, within the range of human vision, and then you 
 may form some idea of the hifinitiide of His kingdom ; for 
 lo ! these are but a part of His ways. 
 
 2. Examine the scale on which the .universe is built. 
 Comprehend, if you can, the vast dimensions of our sun. 
 Stretch outward through his system, from planet to planet, 
 and circumscribe the whole within the immense circumfer- 
 ence of Neptune's orbit. This is but a single unit out of 
 the myriads of similar systems. 
 
 3. Take the wings of light, and flash with impetuous 
 speed, day and night, and month, and year, till youth shall 
 wear away, and middle age is gone, and the extremest limit 
 of human life has been attained ; — count every pulse, and, 
 at each, speed on your way a hundred thousand miles; and 
 when a hundred years have rolled by, look out, and behold ! 
 the thronging millions of blazing suns are still around you. 
 
402 SANDifiliS' Ui\10i\[ SERIES. 
 
 each separated from the other by such a distance, that, in 
 this journey of a century, you have only left half a score 
 behind you. 
 
 4. Would you gather some idea of the eternity past of 
 God's existence, — go to the astronomer, and bid him lead you 
 in one of his walks through space ; and, as he sweeps out- 
 ward from object to object, from universe to universe, 
 remember that the light from those filmy stains on the deep 
 pure blue of heaven, now falling on your eye, has been 
 traversing space for a million of years. 
 
 5. Would you gather some knowledge of the omnipotence 
 of God, — weigh the earth on which we dwell, then count 
 the millions of its inhabitants that have come and gone for 
 the last six thousand years. Unite their strength into one 
 arm, and test its power in an effort to move this earth. It 
 could not stir it a single foot in a thousand years ; and yet 
 under the omnipotent hand of God, not a minute passes that 
 it does not fly more than a thousand miles. 
 
 6. But this is a mere atom, — the most insignificant point 
 among his innumerable worlds. At his bidding, every planet, 
 and satellite, and comet, and the sun himself, fly onward in 
 their appointed courses. His single arm guides the millions 
 of sweeping suns, and around His throne circles the great 
 .constellation of unnumbered universes. 
 
 7. Would you comprehend the idea of the omniscience 
 of God, — remember that the highest pinnacle of knowledge 
 reached by the whole human race, by the combined efforts 
 of its brightest intellects, has enabled the astronomer to 
 compute approximately the perturbations of the planetary 
 worlds. He has predicted roughly the return of half a 
 score of comets. But God has computed the mutual per- 
 turbations of millions of suns, and planets, and comets, and 
 worlds, without number, through the ages that are passed, 
 
NUMBJEXi Jb'UUAU 4Q3 
 
 and throughout the ages which are yet to come, not approxi- 
 mately, but with perfect and absolute precision. 
 
 8. The universe is in motion, — system rising above sys- 
 tem, cluster above cluster, nebula above nebula, — all majes- 
 tically sweeping around under the providence of God, who 
 alone knows the end from the beginning, and before whose 
 glory and power all intelligent beings, whether in heaven or 
 on earth, should bow with humility and awe. 
 
 9. Would you gain some idea of the luisdom of God, — 
 look to the admirable adjustments of the magnificent reti- 
 nue of planets and satellites which sweep around the sun. 
 Every globe has been weighed and poised, every orbit has 
 been measured and bent to its beautiful form. 
 
 10. All is changing, but the laws fixed by the wisdom of 
 God, though they permit the rocking to and fro of the sys- 
 tem, never introduce disorder, or lead to destruction. All 
 is perfect and harmonious, and the music of the spheres that 
 burn and roll around our sun, is echoed by that of ten mil- 
 lions of moving worlds, that sing and shine around the bright 
 suns that reign above. 
 
 11. If, overwhelmed with the grandeur and majesty of 
 the universe of God, we are led to exclaim with the Hebrew 
 poet-king, — " When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy 
 fingers, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained, 
 what is man, that Thou art mindful of him ? and the son of 
 man, that Thou visitest him ?" — If, fearful that the eye of 
 God may overlook us in the immensity of His kingdom, we 
 have only to call to mind that other passage, " Yet Thou hast 
 made him but a little lower than the angels, and hast 
 crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him to 
 have dominion over all the works of Thy hand ; Thou hast 
 put all things under his fpet." Such are the teachings of 
 the word, and such are the lessons of the works of God. 
 
404 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 LESSON OXIX. 
 
 ^^WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN BUT THEE?" 
 
 Miss Pamelia S. Yining. 
 
 1. 'TwERE naught to me, yon glorious arch of night, 
 
 Decked with the gorgeous blazonry of heaven, 
 If, to my faith, amid its splendors bright, 
 
 No vision of the Eternal One were given ; 
 I could but view a dreary, soulless waste, — 
 
 A vast expanse of solitude unknown. 
 More cheerless for the splendors o'er it cast, — 
 
 For all its grandeur more intensely lone. 
 
 2. 'Twere naught to me, this ever-changeful scene 
 
 Of earthly beauty, sunshine, and delight, — 
 The wood's deep shadows and the valley's green, — 
 
 Morn's tender glow, and sunset's splendors bright ; 
 Naught, if my Father spoke not from the sky. 
 
 The cloud, the flower, the landscape, and the leaf; 
 My soul would pine 'mid earth's vain pageantry. 
 
 And droop in Jiopeless orphanage and grief 
 
 8. 'Twere naught to me, the ocean's vast expanse, 
 
 If His perfections were not mirrored there ; 
 Hopeless across the unmeasured waste I'd glance. 
 
 And clasp my hands in anguish, not in prayer. 
 Naught Nature's -^.nthem, ever swelling up 
 
 From Nature's myriad voices ; for the hymn 
 Breathes not of love, or gratitude, or hope. 
 
 Robbed of the tones that tell my soul of Him. 
 
 4. This wondrotis universe how less than naught 
 Without my God ! how desolate and drear ! 
 A mock'ry, earth with her vain splendors fraught I 
 A gilded pageant, every rolling sphere I 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 405 
 
 The noonday sun with all his glories crowned, 
 A sickly meteor glimmers faint and pale ! 
 
 And all earth's melodies, their sweetness drowned, 
 Are but the utterance of a funeral wail. 
 
 LESSON OXX. 
 
 THE MEMORY OF WASHINGTON* 
 
 Kossuth. 
 
 Mr. President : I consider it a particular favor of Provi- 
 dence that I am permitted to partake, on the present solemn 
 occasion, in paying the tribute of honor and gratitude to the 
 memory of your immortal Washington. 
 
 2. An architect having raised a proud and noble building 
 to the service of the Almighty, his admirers desired to erect 
 a monument to his memory. How was it done ? His name 
 was inscribed upon the wall, with these additional words : 
 "You seek his monument — look around," 
 
 3. Let him who looks for a monument of Washington look 
 around the United States. The whole country is a monu- 
 ment to him. Your freedom, your independence, your national 
 power, your prosperity, and your prodigious growth, is a 
 monument to Washington. 
 
 4. There is no room left for panegyric, none especially to a 
 stranger whom you had full reason to charge with arrogance, 
 were he able to believe that his feeble voice could claim to be 
 noticed in the mighty harmony of a nation's praise. Let me, 
 therefore, instead of such an arrogant attempt, pray that 
 that God, to whose providential intentions Washington was a 
 glorious instrument, may impart to the people of the United 
 States the same wisdom for the conservation of the present 
 prosperity of the land and for its future security, which he 
 gave to Washington for the foundation of it. 
 
N 
 
 406 SANDERS' UNION SERIES. 
 
 5. I yield to nobody in the world in reverence and respect 
 to the immortal memory of Washington. His life and his 
 principles were the guiding star of my life ; to that star I 
 looked up for inspiration and advice, during the vicissitudes 
 of my stormy life. Hence I drew that devotion to my coun- 
 try and to the cause of national freedom, which you, gentle- 
 men, and millions of your fellow-citizens, and your national 
 government, are so kind as to honor by unexampled distinction. 
 
 6. Sir, I have studied the history of your immortal Wash- 
 ington, and have, from my early youth, considered his prin- 
 ciples as a living source of instruction to statesmen and to 
 patriots. 
 
 When, in that very year in which Washington issued his 
 Farewell Address, M. Adet, the French Minister, presented 
 to him the flag of the French Republic, Washington, as Pres- 
 ident of the United States, answered officially, with these 
 memorable words : 
 
 '' Born in a land of liberty, having early learned its value, 
 having engaged in a perilous conflict to defend it, having 
 devoted the best years of my life to secure its permanent 
 establishment in my country, my anxious recollections, my 
 sympathetic feelings, and my best wishes, are irresistibly 
 attracted, whensoever in any country I see an oppressed 
 nation unfurl the banner of freedom." 
 
 7. Thus spoke Washington. Have I not then full reason 
 to say, that if he were alive his generous sympathy would be 
 
 . with me, and the sympathy of a Washington never was, and 
 never would be, a barren word. Washington, who raised 
 the word '' honesty " as a rule of policy, never %vould have 
 professed a sentiment which his wisdom as a statesman would 
 not have approved. 
 
 8. Sir ! here let me end. I consider it already as an im- 
 mense benefit that your generous attention connected the 
 
NUMBER FOUR. 40*^- 
 
 cause of Hungary with the celebration of the memory of 
 Washington. 
 
 9. Spirit of the departed ! smile down from heaven upon 
 this appreciation of m j country's cause; watch over those 
 principles which thou hast taken for the guiding star of thy 
 noble life, and the time will yet come when not only thine 
 own country, but liberated Europe, also, will be a living 
 monument to thy immortal name. 
 
 LESSON OXXI. 
 
 THE LOST ONE'S LAMENT* 
 
 1. Oh ! the snow, the beautiful snow, 
 Filling the sky and earth below ; 
 Over the housetops, over the street, 
 Over the heads of the people you meet, 
 
 Dancing, 
 
 Flirting, 
 
 Skimming along ! 
 Beautiful snow ! it can do no wrong. 
 Flying to kiss a fair lady's cheek, 
 Clinging to lips in a frolicsome freak. 
 Beautiful snow from the Heaven above. 
 Pure as an angel, gentle as love ! 
 
 2. Oh ! the snow, the beautiful snow, 
 
 How the flakes gather and laugh as they go ! 
 Whirling about in its maddening fun, 
 It plays in its glee with every one ; 
 Chasing, 
 
 Laughing, 
 
 Hurrying by, 
 
408 SANDERS' UNION SERIJa^^. 
 
 It lights on the face and it sparkles the eye ! 
 And even the dogs, with a bark and a bound, 
 Snap at the crystals that eddy around. 
 The town is alive, and its heart in a glow 
 To welcome the coming of beautiful snow. 
 
 3. How wild the crowd goes swaying along, 
 Hailing each otlier with humor and song 1 
 How the gay sledges, like meteors, flash by, 
 Bright for the moment, then lost to the eye ! 
 
 Ringing, 
 
 Swinging, 
 
 Dashing they go 
 Over the crust of the beautiful snow ; 
 Snow so pure when it falls from the sky, 
 To be trampled in mud by the crowd rushing by. 
 To be trampled and tracked by thousands of feet. 
 Till it blends with the filth in the horrible street. 
 
 4. How strange it should be that this beautiful snow. 
 Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go ! 
 
 How strange it should be, when the night comes again, 
 If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain ! 
 Fainting, 
 
 Freezing, 
 
 Dying alone, 
 Too wicked for prayer, too weak for a moan 
 To be heard in the crazy town, 
 Gone mad i\\ the joy of the snow coming down ; 
 To lie and so die, in my terrible woe, 
 With a bed and a shroud of the beautiful snow I 
 
^ ^^ y/s ^a^"] 
 
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 LIBRARY 
 
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