' LIBRARY OF THE ' UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 428.6 Ml 7m 18572 V. 5 The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2017 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Alternates https://archive.org/details/mcguffeysnewfour05mcgu THE BEST AED CHEAPEST SCHOOL BOOKS, THE ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SERIES • E M B R A O E S , McGUFFEY’S PRIMARY’ SCIIOOL CHARTS, McGUFFEY’S ECLECTIG%FELLER, . . . McGUFFEY’S NEW ECLECTIC READERS, RAY’S SERIES OF ARITHMETICS, ... 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McGDFFEY’S new first eclectic READER; containing the alphabet and lessons, simple and easy, for little learners. McGUFFEY’S NEW SECOND ECLEC^^EADER ; easy lessons in reading and spelling, for young p^ils. McGUFFEY’S NEW THIRD ECLECTIC READER; interesting and instructive primary lessons, for young pupils. McGTJFFEY’S NEW FOURTH ECLECTIC READER; chaste and in- structive lessons in prose and poetry, for the young. McGUFFEY’S NEW FIFTH ECLECTIC READER; choice extracts in prose and verse, for middle classes. McGUFFEY’S NEW SIXTH ECLECTIC READER; a rhetorical read- ing book, for the more advanced classes. Auxiliary Books — Just Published. McGUFFEY’S NEW HIGH SCHOOL READER ; copious classic exer- cises, for the highest classes in schools and academies McGUFFEY’S NEW ECLECTIC SPEAKER; comprising three hun- dred exercises for reading or declamatioif This book may be used as a reader or speaker ; the selections being peculiarly adapted to the. double purpose of declamation and reading in High Schools. McGUFFEY’S NEW JUVENILE SPEAKER, for Common Schools: choice and animating exercises in speaking or reading, designed for young pupils. PUBLISHED BY W. B. SMITH & CO., CINCINNATI: CLARK, AUSTIN, MAYNARD k CO.,— NEW YORK: J. B. LIPPINCOTT i CO.,— PHILADELPHIA. ECLECTIC EDUCATIONAL SEEIES. McGUFFET’S NEW FIFTH ECLECTIC READER: SELECTED AND OKIGINAL EX.EKCISES FOR SCHOOLS. By WM. H. M'^GUFFEY, LL.D. STEREOTYPE EDITION. PUBLISHEES: CINCINNATI, WINTIIROP B. SMITH & CO NEW YOEK, CLAEK, AUSTIN, MAYNAKD & CO. PUBLISHERS’ NOTICE. The widely extended approval and patronage bestowed upon the Eclectic Educational Series for several years past, have given to them a constantly increasing demand. Their sale is NOT EQUALED by any other similar School Boohs in the United States. Such approval renders it the duty and privilege of the Pub lishers to sustain and increase their usefulness by such improve- ments as are demanded by judicious educational progress. With that view, McGUFFEY’S ECLECTIC READERS Have been entirely remodeled. Such lessons as discriminating practical teachers had found the least interesting have been re- moved, and others, with large additions — especially of primary matter — have been introduced into the series. A careful attention to progression, by which the learner is led forward, step by step, by an easy gradation — a pure moral and religious sentiment inculcated in interesting and instructive les- sons — a neat typography and handsome style of publication, ren- der them the best class-books for reading in the English language; and, at their very low prices, the cheapest. g®** To secure accuracy in those who order books, these volumes (six in number), are entitled McGuffey^s New Eclectic Readers, That they may not be confounded with the former editions, which are still continued in publication. Entered according to act of Congress, in the year Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-Seven, by W. B. Smith, in the Clerk^s office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of Ohio. Many of the Lessons in this volume are copyright property, and their use by others not permitted. Stereotyped by C. F. O’ Driscoll & Co. PREFACE. Al’Ui -- X This, the fifth in the series of the remodeled Eclectic Eeaders, differs from the preceding volumes, chiefly, in its grade. The les- sons are more difficult, the list of errors in articulation and pro- nunciation are more extensive, and the questions, more copious and varied. A considerable amount of new matter, derived from the best sources of English literature, has been added. The introductory article on Reading is commended to the notice of the teacher, as containing important instruction upon that subject, with copious illustrations and exercises. Miscellaneous exercises in articulation are also interspersed between the lessons. The Spelling and Defining Exercises, placed at the head of the lessons, are copious, and at the same time, select. In addition to these, words are also marked in the lessons to be spelled and de- fined by the pupil. The grammatical questions are particularly commended to the attention of the teacher, as a valuable feature. Few are aware, until a trial, how closely reading and grammatical analysis may be profitably united. The Reading Lessons have been very carefully selected. It has been the great object^of the compiler to present the best specimens of style, to insure interest in the subjects, to impart valuable in- formatipn, and, especially, to exert a decided and healthy moral and religious influence. As very little material is found in a form appropriate to practice as reading lessons, the matter has here been extensively remodeled and rearranged, so as to adapt it to its place in this volume. On this account, the lessons are credited in the contents as being from the authors named. CONTENTS Directions for Keadino. 9 to 36 LESSONS IN PROSE. I, ESSON. FACE. 1. The Forest Trees. — Fable 37 3. The Poor Widow 40 5. The Orphan 46 7. Little Victories From Martineau. . 63 9. An End of All Perfection From Sigourney. . 59 II. Do Not Meddle 65 12. The Chicken Cock and the Fox 57 14. The Righteous Never Forsaken 72 15. Select Paragraphs , 75 17. The Generous Russian Peasant 80 18. Touch Not — Taste Not — Handle Not . . From Dr. Beecher. 53 20. Man and the Inferior Animals 88 21. Value of Time and Knowledge 91 23. Scene at the Sandwich Islands 96 24. The Maniac 101 26. Respect for the Sabbath Rewarded 105 27. The Goodness of God The Bible. . . . 108 29. Contrasted Soliloquies From Jane Taylor. 112 31. The Just Judge 118 32. Control Your Temper From Todd. . . . 123 34. Death of Absalom The Bible. . . . 127 36. A Morning Ramble . From Paulding. . 134 38. The Alhambra by Moonlight .... From Irving. . . 141 40. On Elocution and Reading 145 41. No Excellence without Labor .... From Wirt. . . 148 42. Necessity of Education From Dr. Beecher. 750 44. The Intemperate Husband From Sigourney. . 155 45, The Intemperate Husband. — Continued 158 CONTENTS 7 LKSSON. PAO®, 47. Ill-Nature Rewarded 49. The Wife From Irving. . 61. Decisive Integrity From Wirt. . . 53. The Steamboat Trial From Abbot. , . 55. Lucy Forrester 57. The Venomous Worm 68. The Town Pump From. Hawthorne. 60. Effects of Gambling From Flint. . . 62. Criminality of Dueling . . .v. . . From Nott. . . . 63. Tit for Tat From Edgeworth. . 64. Conflagration of an Amphitheater 66. Charles II. and ¥7illiam Penn . 67. Horrors of War 69. Love of Applause From Hawes. 71. A. Picture of Human Life Froin Johnson. 73. Puritan Fathers 74. American Orator 77. Europe and America From Webster 80. The Scriptures and the Savior .... From Rosseau 81. The Blind Preacher From Wirt. 83. The Bible From Grimke. 84. On Letter Writing 87. Rebellion in State Prison 88. Religion, the Only Basis of Society 90. The Boblink From Irving. . . 92. The Wild liorse From Irving. . , 94. Matilda From GDldsmith. . 95. Speech of Logan From Jefferson. 97. Martyn and Byron From Miss Beecher. 162 169 174 178 184 192 194 204 2^1 214 217 225 228 234 240 249 253 271 280 283 288 290 300 306 310 315 322 324 329 LESSONS IN POETRY. UCSSON. PACK. 2. The Oak Tree 88 4. Tired of Play 45 6. The Grandfather 51 8. My Mother 58 10. The Spider and the Fly 63 1 3, The Barber 71 8 CONTENTS t^SON. PAGR. 16. The Dying Boy 78 19. The Festal Board 80 22.. Consolation of Religion From PercivaL, . 95 25 He never smiled again 103 28 Nature and Revelation The Bible. . . . 110 80 The Pebble and the Acorn From Miss Gould. 116 83. The Child’s Inquiry 126 35, Absalom From Willis. . . 131 87. April Day 139 89. The Death of the Flowers From Bryant. . . 143 43. True Wisdom The Bible. . . . 153 46. The Better Land ^ . . From Ilemans. , . 161 48. It snows From 3Irs, Hale. . 167 50. Ginevra From Rogers. . . 171 62. Procrastination From Young. . . 176 64. A Dirge . 182 66. A Hebrew Tale From Sigourney. . 189 59. Shylock From Shakspeare. 198 61. The Miser From Pollok. . . 209 65. Prince Arthur . From Shakspeare, 220 68. Battle of Waterloo From Byron. . . 231 70. Midnight Musings From Young. . . 237 72. God’s First Temples From Bryant. . 244 75. William Tell 257 76. William Tell. — Continued 266 78. Make Way for Liberty From Montgomery. 275 79. The American Eagle From Neal. . . . 278 82. The Gods of the Heathen The Bible. . . . 286 85. Lochiel’s Warning From Campbell. .. 295 86. Apostrophe to the Ocean From Byron. . . 298 89. The Three Sons 308 91. Winged Worshipers 314 93. Soldier on the Rhine From Mrs. Norton. 320 96. Parrhasius From Willis. . . 326 98. Byron From Pollok. . . 832 99. Immortality of the Soul From Addison. . 334 100 Death and Life ... * 830 DIEECTIONS FOE EEADING. I. PRELIMINARY REMARKS. The great object to be accomplished in reading as a rhetorical exercise is, to convey to the hearer, fully and clearly, the ideas and feelings of the writer. In order to do this, it is necessary that the feelings of the author whose language is read, should be infused into the breast of the reader, and then alone can they be properly and fully expressed. In accordance with this view, a preliminary rule of im- portance is the following. Rule I. — Before attempting to read a lesson, the learner should make himself fully acquainted with the subject as treated of in that lesson, and endeavor to make his own, the feelings and sentiments of the writer. Remark. — To accomplish the purpose indicated in the rule, every lesson should be well studied beforehand, and no scholar should be permitted to attempt to read any thing, which he can not easily understand. When he has thus identified him- self with the author, he has the substance of all rules in his own breast. It is by going to nature that we find rules. The child or the savage orator, never mistakes in inflection, or emphasis, or modulation. The best speakers and readers are those who follow the impulse of nature as felt in their own hearts, or most closely imitate it as observed in others. Questions. — What is the chief design of readipg ? In order to do this, what is first necessary? Repeat the ri^. For the purpose of being able to observe this, what must be done? From whence are all rules derived? 9 10 ARTICULATION. II. ARTICULATION. The subject first in order and in importance, requiring attention, is articulation. TLe object to be accomplished, under this head, may be expressed by the following general Direction. — Give to each letter (except silent letters), to each syllable, and to each word its full, distinct, and appropriate utterance. For the purpose of avoiding the more common errors under this head, observe the following Rules. Rule II. — Avoid the omission of unaccented vowels. EXAMPLES. INCORRECT. CORRECT. INCORRECT. CORRECT. SepTate for sep-(X-rate. EvMent for ev-Ldent. met-ricT >> met-ric-al. memh-y „ mem-o-ry. ^pear >5 ap-pear. ^pin-ion ,, o-pin-ion. com-pTeut >> com-pe-tent. pr’pose ,, pro-pose. precede pre-cede. grandar ,, gran-i^-lar. ^special es-pec-ial. par-tic-1 ar „ par-tic-w-lar. Rule III. — Avoid sounding incorrectly the unaccented vowels. EXAMPLES. INCORRECT. CORRECT. Sep-er-ate for sep-a-rate. met>ric-?/l ,, met-ric- aZ. wp-pear ap-pear. coni-per-tent ,, com-pe-tent. dwm-mand „ de-mand. ob-stwr-nate „ ob-sti-nate. INCORRECT. CORRECT. Mem-er-ry for mem-o-ry. wp-pin-ion ,, o-pin-ion. prwp-ose „ pro-pose, gran-ny-lar ,, gran-u-lar. par-tic-e-lar „ par-tic-w-lar. ev-or-dent ,, ev-i-dent. Remark. — In correcting errors of this kind in words of more than one syllable, it is very important to avoid a fault which is the natural consequence of an effort to articulate cor- rectly. Thus, in endeavoring to sound correctly the a in met' -ric-aly the pupil is very apt to say met-ric-al! y accenting Questions. — What subject is first in importance to the reader? Repeat the general direction. Repeat Rule II. Give some examples in which the vowel is left out. Repeat Rule III. Give some examples in which the unaccented vowel is improperly sounded. ARTICULATION. 11 the last syllable instead of the first. In correcting the sound of the first o in pro-pose , he will perhaps pronounce it pro'-pose. This change of the accent, and all undue stress upon the unaccented syllable should be carefully avoided. Rule IV. — Utter distinctly the terminating consonant. EXAMPLES. INCORRECT. CORRECT. INCORRECT. CORRECT. An' for and. Mos' for mos 5 '^^e. ban’ band. near-es' ,, near-es7. moun' „ mound. wep' ,, wep7. mor-nin' ,, morn-in^. ob-jec' „ ob-jec7. dess' „ desT:. sub-jec' „ sub-jec7. Remark 1.- —This omission is still more likely to < occur when several consonants come together. EXAMPLES. INCOKEECT. CORRECT. Thrus’ for thrus^5. beace „ beas^5. thinks' ,, thinkvS^. weps' „ wep^s^. INCORRECT. CORRECT. . Harms' for harm's^, wrongs' ,, wrong'st. twinkles' ,, twinkPdsif. black'ns „ black'nV/s^, Remark 2. — In all cases of this kind, these sounds are omitted, in the first instance, merely because they are difficult, and require care and attention for their utterance, although, after a while it becomes a habit. The only remedy is to de- vote that care and attention which ma}^ be necessary. There is no other difiiculty, unless there should be a defect in the organs of speech, which does not often happen. Rule V. — Avoid blending syllables which belong to different words. EXAMPLES. INCORRECT. CORRECT. He ga-zdupon. He gazed upon. Here res i^^is 5 ed. Here rests 7iis 7iead. Questions. — In correcting these errors, what fault is it necessary to guard against? What is Rule IV? Give examples. When is the omission still more likely to take place? Give examples. What is the cause of this defect? What is the remedy? Is there often any defect in the organs of speech ? What is Rule V ? Illustrate it by an example. 12 ARTICULATION. INCORRECT. CORRECT WhaWis 5is 5?iame? For ran7^in5/antush. Ther ris 5a calm. Wha^ i5 7^is name ? For an instant Aush The?'e i5 a calm. For tho 5^7ia 7z5eep. God 5glorou 5image. For tliosfi n?eep. God'5 ^loriou5 image. EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION. This Exercise and similar ones will afford valuable aid in training the organs to a distinct articulation. Every vice figh^5 again^^ natu?'e. Folly is never plea5C(7 Avith 7^5elf. Pride, not nature, crares muc7i. The li^^Ze tviUlQr tittQVQd at the tempest. Titu.? ^a/t;e5 the pei^uZent ou^-ca5/5. The covetous p^rtiiQr is deei^i^ute of fortune No one of you knoAA"5 w7iere the sIioq pinc7^e5. What can not be curef7 mu5^ be endnrQd. You can not c?dcli old birc75 with c7iaff. Never 5j9ort Avi77i the opinio?i5 of otliors. Tho Yi^inmgs fi 2 ishod, ike thunders roared. Pis hayid in mine was fondly claspod. They cuZ/ivated shrubs tind pZants. He selecZed his texZ5 wiZ7^ great care. His lip5 grovf restless^ and hi.? 6*?nile is curZe^Z 7ialf into scorn. 'Wisdom’s Avays are Avay.? of pleasantness^. Oh ! breeze that AvafZsZ me on my way. PAou boa5Z^5Z of AvAat ^Aould be thy sAame.. ^ Li/e^s fiZ/hl fever over, he rests well. CansZ thou fill his eZt'in Avith bar^e^Z iro?25? Prom star to star the living lighZnin^e^a^A. ^ And ^Zitteri?i^ cro^Y7ls of prostrate seraj97iim. TJiat momiing^ thou that slumberd’st not before. Habitual oyiIs chajige not on a sud6Ze7i. Thou AvafZ^cZ^st the rickety skiffs over the cliffs. Thou reef^PsZ the haggled shi^wreeked sails. The hone^Z ^AepherPi* catar?di. The hei7’e55 in her di^AabiZZe is Aumorou5. The Arave cAevalier behare^ like a conservative. ^ The luscious notion of cAampagne and precious su^ar. Question. — What kind of exercises are adapted for improvement in articulation? INFLEC TIONS. 13 Hemark 1. — Very fall exercises and directions for practice in articulation, may be found in the New Eclectic Third and Fourth Eeadors of this series, to which it is sup- posed the reader has already paid some attention. In every reading lesson, this subject should receive its appropriate •attention. Between the lessons in this book, also, are ex- amples^ constituting a series of exercises upon difficult combi- nations and upon vowel sounds, which, it is believed, will be found of great utility, and to which the learner is directed for practice. * Hemark 2. — -The teacher will recollect that, in correcting a fault, there is always danger of erring in the opposite ex- treme. Now, properly speaking, there is.no danger of learning to articulate too distinctly^ but there is danger of contracting a habit of drawling^ and of pronouncing unimportant words with too much prominence. This should be carefully guarded against. It is a childish fault, but is not always confined to children. III. INFLECTIONS. Inflections are slides of the voice upward or down ward. Of these there are two : the rising inflection and falling inflection. The rising inflection is that in which the voice slides upward^ and is marked thus (^); as, Didyouwalk^? (Did you The falling inflection is that in which the voice slides downward^ and is marked thus ( ; as, I did not walk^ . (I did not Both inflections are exhibited in the following question ; Did you walk^ or ride^ ? ^ or Questions. — What error, must be guarded against? What are in- flections? How does the voice slide in the rising inflection? Howi in the falling? 14 INFLECTIONS. In the following examples, the first member has the rising y and the second member the falling inflection. EXAMPLES* Is he sick^, or is he well^ ? Is he youngs, or is he old^ ? Is he rich^, or is he poor^ ? Did you say valor^, or value^ ? Did you say statute^, or statue^ ? Did he act properly^, or improperly^ ? In the following examples, the inflections are used in a con- trary order, the first member terminating with the falling y and the second with the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. He is welD, not sick^. He is youngs, not old^. lie is rich^, not poor^. I said value^, not valor I said statue^, not statute^. lie acted properly^, not improperly^. FALLING INFLECTIONS, Rule VI.— The falling inflection is generally proper, wherever the sense is complete. EXAMPLES. Truth is more wonderful than fiction^. Men generally die as they live^. By indi^ry we obtain wealth^. Questions. — Explain the different inflections in the questions, com- mencing with, “Is he sick^, oris he welD?’’ Explain them in the answers to those questions. What is the first rule for the use of the falling inflection? Give the examples. * These questions and similar ones, with their answers, should be repeatedly pronounced with their proper inflections, until the distinc- tion between the rising and falling inflection is well understood and easily made by the learner. He will be assisted in this, by emphasiz- ing strongly the word which receives the inflection: thus. Did you RiDE^ or did you walk'? INFLECTIONS. 15 Remark. — Parts of a sentence often make complete sense in themselves, and in this case, unless qualified or restrained by the succeeding clause, or unless the contrary is indicated by some other principle, the falling infiection takes place, according to the rule. EXAMPLES. Truth is wonderful^, even more so than fiction^. Men generally die as they live^, and by their actions we must judge of their character^. By industry we obtain wealth^, and persevering exertion will sel- dom be unrewarded^. Exception . — When a sentence concludes with a negative clause, or with a contrast or comparison, (called also antithesis), the first member of which requires the falling inflection, it must close with the rising inflection. (See Rule XI, and §2, Note.) EXAMPLES. No one desires to be thought a fooP. I come to bury^ Caesar, not to praise^ him. If we care not for others^, we ought at least to respect ourselves^. He lives in England^, not in France^. Remark. — In bearing testimony to the general character of a man we say. He is too honorable^ to be guilty of a vile^ act. But if he is accused of some act of baseness, a contrast is at once instituted between his character and the specified act, and we change the inflections, and say, ■ He is too honor ahle^ to be guilty of such^ an act. A man may say, in general terms, I am too busy^ for projects^. But if he is urged to embark in some particular enterprise, lie will change the inflections, and say, I am too for projects^. Questions. — Where, besides at the close of a sentence, may the sense be complete? What inflection must be used in this case? Give an example. What is antithesis? What is the substance of the remark ? Explain the examples. 16 INFLECTIONS. In such cases, as the falling inflection is required in the former part, by the principle of contrast and emphasis, (as will hereafter be more fully explained), the sentence necessarily closes with the rising inflection. Sometimes also, emphasis alone seems to require the rising inflection on the concluding word. See exception to Kule VII. STRONG EMPHASIS. Rule VII. — Language which demands strong emphasis generally requires the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. §1. Command or urgent en^eaty; as, Begone^, Rim^ to your houses, fall^ upon your knees, Pray^ to the Gods to intermit the plagues. Answer^ me, to what I ask you. Oh, save^ me, Hubert^, save^ me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. §2. Exclamation, especially when indicating strong emotion ; as. Oh, ye Gods^I ye Gods*^! must I endure ail this? Hark^! Hark^l the horrid sound Hath raised up his head. A present deity^! they shout around, A present deity^! the vaulted roofs rebound. For interrogatory exclamation, see Rule X, Remark. SERIES OF WORDS OR MEMBERS. §3. A series of words or members^ w^hether in the beginning or middle of a sentence, if it does not conclude the sentence, is called a commencing series^ and requires the falling inflection at each wmrd or member except the last^ which must have the rising inflection. Questions. — Repeat Rule VH. What is the first particular under this rule ? Give an example. What is the second particular ? Give an example. What is the third head under this rule ? What is a commencing series ? INFLECTIONS. 17 EXAMPLES OF COMMENCING SERIES. V/ine*^, beauty^, music^, pomp^, are poor expedients to heave off the load of an hour from the heir of eternity‘s. Absalom^s beauty^, Jonathan’s love'^, David’s valor^, Solomon’s wisdom^, the patience of Job^, the prudence of Augustus^, the elo- quence of Cicero^, and the intelligence of alP, though faintly amiable in the creature, are found in immense perfection in the Creator^. I conjure you by that which you profess, (Howe’er you came to know it), answer me ; Though you untie the winds and let them fight Against the churches'^; though the yeasty waves Confound and swallow navigation^ up ; Though bladed corn be lodged, and trees blown down'^; Though castles topple on their warder’s heads^; Though palaces and pyramids do slope Their heads to their foundations^; though the treasures Of nature’s germens tumble altogether^. Even till destruction sicken^; answer me ^ To what I ask^ you. §4. A series of Avords or members Avliich concludes a sentence, is called a concluding series^ and must have the falling inflection at each member, except the last but one, which must have the rising inflection. EXAMPLES OF CONCLUDING SERIES. They passed o’er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp ; ^Rocks^j^aves^, lakes^, fens^, bogs^, dens^, and shades of doath^. They, through iaith, subdue? kingdoms^, wrought righteous- ness^, obtained promises^, stopped the mouths of lions^, quenched the violence of fire^, escaped the edge of the sword^, out of wctak- ness were made strong^, waxed valiant in fight^, turned to flight the armies of aliens^. Remark. — When the emphasis on these words or members is not marked, they take the rising inflection, according to Rule IX. EXAMPLES. They are the offspring of restlessness^, vanity^, and idleness*^. Love^, hope^, and joy^ took possession of his breast. Questions. — AVhat is a concluding series ? Give examples, the remark, and give examples. 5th R. ^^2 18 INFLEC TIONS. §5. When words, which naturally take the rising in- flection, become emphatic by repetition or any other cause, they often take the falling inflection. Exception to the Rule . — While the tendency of emphasis is decidedly to the use of the falling inflection^ sometimes a word to which the falling inflection naturally belongs, changes this, when it is emphatic, for the rising inflection. EXAMPLES. Three thousand ducats^; His a good round sum^. It is useless to point out the beauties of nature to one who is blind . Here sum and hlind, according to Rule VI, would take the falling inflection, but as they are emphatic, and the object of emphasis is to draw attention to the word emphasized, this is here accomplished in part by giving an unusual inflection. Some speakers would give these words the circumflex, but it would be the rising circumflex, so that the sound would still terminate with the rising inflection. Rule VIII. — Questions which can not be answered by yes or no^ together with their answers, generally require the falling inflection. EXAMPLES. Where has he gone^? What has he done^? Who did this^? When did he go^? Ans. To New York^. Ans. Nothing*^. Ans. I know not^. Ans. Yesterday^. Remark. — If these questions are repeated, the inflection is changed, according to the principle stated under the Exception to Rule VII. Where did you say he had gone^? What has he done^? When did he go''? Who did it^? RISING INFLECTION. Rule IX. — Where a pause is rendered proper by the Questions. — What is the fifth head under this rule ? Repeat the "Option. Give the examples. AVhat is supposed to be tbe reason of ception? Repeat Rule VIII. If these questions are repeated, iflection ia used. Repeat Rule IX. INFLECTIONS. 19 meaning, and the sense is incomplete, the rising inflection is generally required. EXAMPLES. To endure slander and abuse with meekness^, requires no ordi* narj degree of self-command'^. Night coming on^, both armies retired from the field of battle'^. As a dog returneth to his vomit^, so a fool returneth to his folly^. Eemark. — The person or object addressed, comes under this head. EXAMPLES. Fathers^! we once again are met in council. My lords^! and gentlemen^ 1 we have arrived at an awful crisis. Age^! thou art shamed. Rome^! thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! Exception. — Where a word, which, according to this rule, requires the rising inflection, becomes emphatic, it generally must have the falling inflection, according to Rule VII. EXAMPLES. When we aim at a high standard, if we do not attain'^ it, we shall secure a high degree of excellence. Those who mingle with the vicious, if they do not become de- praved'^f will lose all delicacy of feeling. So also, when a child addresses his father, he first says. Fath- er^ ! but if he repeats it emphatically, he changes the inflec- tion, and says. Father^! Father^! Remark. — The principle of this rule will be found to apply especially to the last pause before the close of a sentence, as that is generally the most interesting point of suspension. See examples under Rule VII, §3. Harmony of sound, also, seems to require the rising inflection at this place, even when other reasons would indicate the contrary. Rule X. — Questions which may be answered by yes or n(9, generally require the rising^ and their answers the falling inflection. Questions. — Of what rule is this the converse or opposite ? Give some of the examples under this rule. What inflection has the person addiessed? Give examples. Give the exception to Rule IX, and examples. To what does the principle of this rule especially apply ? Repeat the exception. Repeat Rule X. 20 INFLECTIONS. EXAMPLES. Has he arrived^? Yes^. Will he return^? No^. Does the law condemn him^? It does nof^. Exception. — If these questions are repeated emphatically, Ihey take the falling inflection, according to rule YII. EXAMPLES. Has he arrived^ ? Will he return'^ ? Does the law condemn him'^ ? Remark. — 'When a word or sentence is repeated as a kind of interrogatory exclamation, the rising inflection is used, ac- cording to the principles of this rule. EXAMPLES. You ask, who would venture^ in such a cause? Who would venture^ ? Rather say, who would not^ venture all things for such an object? He is called the friend^ of virtue. The friend^! ay! the en- thusiastic lover^, the devoted protector^, rather. So, also, when one receives unexpected information, he ex- claims, Ah^l indeed^! Remark. — In the above examples, the words ^^venture,'" friend,^’ ah,^^ &c., may be considered as interrogatory ex- clamations, because, if the sense were carried out, it would be in the form of question; as, ‘^Do you ask who would ven- ture^f' ‘^Do you say that he is the/rie?icZ^ of virtue ^^Is it possible^ and thus, they would receive the rising inflection according to this rule. RISING AND FALLING INFLECTIONS. Rule XI. — The different members of a sentence expressing comparison, or contrast, or negation and affirmation, or where the parts are united by or used disjunctively, require different inflections; generally the rimng inflection in the first member, and the flailing in- Questions. — Give examples under Rule X. Repeat the remark, and explain the examples. What is the Rule XI? What is the first head under this rule ? Give an example. INFLECTIONS. 21 flection in the second member. This order is, however, sometimes inverted. §1. Comparison and contrast. This is also called antithesis. EXAMPLES. ^ By all things approving ourselves the ministers of God ; by hon- or^, and dishonor^; by evil^ report, and good^ report; as deceivers and yet true'"; as unknown^, and yet well^ known; as dyings, and behold we live^ ; as chastened^, and not killed^; as sorrow- ful^, yet always rejoicing ; as poor^, yet making many rich^; as having nothing^, and yet possessing alb things. Europe was one great battle-field, where the weak struggled for freedom^, and the strong for dominion^. The king was without power and the nobles, without principle'". They were tyrants at home^, and robbers abroad^. §2. Negation and affirmation. EXAMPLES. He desired not to injure^ his friend, but to protect him. We desire not your moneys, but yourselves^. I did not say a better^ soldier, but an elder^. If the affirmative clause comes first, the order of the inflec- tions is inverted. EXAMPLES. He desired to protect^ his friend, not to injure^ him. We desire yourselves'-, not your moneys. I said an elder^ soldier, not a better^. The affirmative clause is sometimes understood. EXAMPLES. We desire not your moneys. I did not say a better^ soldier. The region beyond the grave, is not a solitary'^ land. In most negative sentences standing alone, the corresponding affirmative is understood ; hence the following Remark. — Negative sentences, whether alone or connected with an affirmative clause, generally end with the rising inflection. Questions. — What is the second head? Give examples. If the affirmative clause comes first, in what order are the inflections used ? Give examples. Is either ole-use ever omitted ? Repeat the remark. 22 INFLECTIONS. If such sentences are repeated emphatically, they take the falling inflection, according to Rule VI. EXAMPLES. We do not^ desire your money. I did not^ say a better soldier. §8. Or used disjunctively. Did he behave properly^, or improperly^? Are they living^, or dead'"? Is he rich^, or poor^? Does God, having made his creatures, take no further^ care of them, or does he preserve, and guide them^? Remark. — Where or is used conjunctively this rule does not apply ; as, Will the lavr of kindness^ or of justice^ justify such conduct^? CIRCUMFLEX, f The circumflex is a union of the rising and falling in- flections upon the same sound. Properly speaking, there are two of these, the one called the rismg circumflex, in which the voice slides down and then up ; and the other, the falling circumflex, in which the voice slides upward and then downward on the same vowel. They may both be denoted by the same mark; thus (^). The circum- flex is used chiefly to indicate . the emphasis of irony, or of contrast, or of hypothesis. EXAMPLES. 1, Queen, Hamlet, you have your father much offended. Hamlet, Madam, you have my father much offended. 2. They offer us their protect tion. Yes^, sflch protection, as vflltures give to lambs, cbvering and devouring them. Questions. — If sentences requiring the rising inflection are re- peated emphatically, what inflections are used ? What is the third head under this rule? Give examples. Repeat the remark. What in- flections are united to form the circumflex? Explain the two kinds of circumflex. What does the circumflex indicate? Give an example in which it is used to indicate the emphasis of contrast, and explain it. Explain the one in which the emphasis of irony is illustrated. INFLECTIONS. 23 3. I knew when seven justices could not make up a quarrel; but when the parties met themselves, one of them thought but of an if; as, if you said so, then I said s6 ; Oh ho 1 did you say so ? So they shook hands and were sworn brothers. Eemarks. — In the fr&t example the emphasis is that of contrast. The queen had poisoned her husband, of which she incorrectly supposed her son ignorant, and she blames him for treating his father-in-law with disrespect. In his reply, Ham- let contrasts her deep crime with his own slight offense, and the circumflex upon you^ becomes proper. In the second example the emphasis is ironical. The Span- iards pretended, that they would protect the Peruvians, if they would submit to them, whereas, it was evident, that they merely desired to plunder and destroy them. Thus their pro- tection is ironically called sHch protection as viUtures give to Idmhs, &c. In the third example, the word ^‘so’^ is used hypothetically, that is, it implies a condition or supposition. It will be observed that the rising circumflex is used in the first ^^so,^' and the falling, in the second, because the first ^^so” must end with the rising inflection, and the second, with the falling in- flection, according to previous rules. MONOTONE. When no word in a sentence receives an inflection, it is said to be read in a monotone ; that is, in nearly the same tone throughout. This uniformity of tone is occa- sionally adopted, and is fitted to express solemnity or sublimity of idea, and sometimes intensity of feeling. It is used, also, when the whole sentence or phrase is em- phatic. In books of elocution, when it is marked at all, it is generally marked thus ( — ), as in the fourth line following. EXAMPLES. Hence! loathed Melancholy!.^ Where brd(^ing darkness spreads her jeabus wings, Questions. — Give the last example and explain it. When is a sen- tence said to be read in a monotone? When is a monotone appro- priate ? 24 ACCENT. And the night raven sings; There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In deep Cimmerian darkness ever dwell. IV. ACCENT. In every word which contains more than one syllable, one of the syllables is pronounced with a somev/hat greater stress of voice, than the others. This syllable is said to be accented. The accented syllable is distin- guished by this mark (^), the same which is used in inflections. EXAMPLES. Love^-ly, re-turn^, Con ^-stant, re-main^, Mem^-ber, a-bide^, Win^-dow, a-tone^, Ban^-ner, a-lone^, re-mem ^-ber, a-sun ^-der, a-ban ^-don, rec-ol-lect^, re-em-bark^. Kemauk. — In most cases, custom is the only guide for placing the accent on one syllable rather than another. Some- times, however, the same word is differently accented, in order to mark its different meanings. EXAMPLES. Cb/i^-jure, to practice enchantments. Con-^wre^, to entreat. (?aZ^-lant, brave. Gal-ZaAi^^, a gay fellow. Ati^-gust, a month. A\x-giist^y grand. Remark. — A number of words, also, have their accent on one syllable when verbs or adjectives, and on another, when nouns. EXAMPLES. Buh ^-j ec t, th e n 0 un ; Pre.9^-ent, „ Cb/A^-duct, „ 06-^ject, to sub-ybc^^, the verb, to pre-5e?i^^, ,, to QO\i-duct^, ,, to oh-ject', ,, Questions. — Which line in the example is to be read in this way? Why? When is a syllable said to be accented? Give an example, flow is the accented syllable marked? What is generally the guide for placing the accent? When is the same word differently accented? an example under each head. EMPHASIS. 25 V. EMPHASIS. A WORD is said to be emphasized^ when it is uttered with a greater stress of voice, than the other words with which it is connected. Remark 1. — The object of emphasis is, to attract particular attention to the word upon which it is placed, indicating, that the idea to be conveyed, depends very much upon that word. This object, as just stated, is generally accomplished by in- creasing the force of utterance, but sometimes, also, by a change in the inflection, the use of the monotone, or by utter- ing the words in a very low tone. Emphatic words are often denoted by italics^ and a still stronger emphasis by small CAPITALS or LARGE CAPITALS, according to the degree of emphasis desired. Remark 2. — Emphasis constitutes the most important fea- ture in reading and speaking, and, properly applied, gives life' and character to language. Accent, inflection, and, indeed, every thing yields to emphasis. ’ * Remark 3. — In the following examples, it will be seen that accent is governed by it. EXAMPLES. What is done, can not be imdone. There is a difference between giving andybrgiving. He that c?escended is the same that ascended. Some appear to make very little difference between d^ecency and indecency, morality and immorality, I’eligion and iVreligion. Remark 4. — There is no better illustration of the nature and importance of emphasis, than the following examples. It will be observed that the meaning and proper answer of the question vary with each change of the emphasis. Questions. — When is a word emphasized? Upon what part of the word is the increased stress placed? What is the object of emphasis? In what other way, than the one just mentioned, can this be accom- plished? How are emphatic words marked? What is said of the importance of emphasis? Wlint other things yield to emphasis? ^ .5th R — .3 26 EMPHASIS. * EXAMPLES. QUESTIONS. ANSWERS. Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, my brother went. Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I rode. Did you walk into the city yesterday ? No, I went into the country^ Did you walk into the city yesterday? No, I went the day before. ABSOLUTE EMPHASIS. Sometimes a word is emphasized simply to indicate the importance of the idea. This is called absolute emphasis. EXAMPLES. To arms ! they come 1 the Greek ! the Greek ! Strike — till the last armed foe expires, Strike — for your altars and your fire^ Strike — for the green graves of your sij^es, God — and your native land. Woe unto you Pharisee^! Hypocrites! Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away. Kemark. — I n instances like the last, it is sometimes called the emphasis.oi specification. EELATIVE EMPHASIS. 'h Words are often emphasized, in order to exhibit the idea they express, as compared or contrasted with some other idea. This is called relative emphasis. examples. It is much better to be injured, than to injure. They fight for plunder, we, for our country. A friend can not be known in prosperity : an enemy can not be hidden in adversity. They follow an adventurer whom they fear ; we serve a monarch whom we love. Questions. — Give some examples in which accent yields to it. What is absolute emphasis? Give examples. What is meant by reZa- tive emphasis ? Give the examples, and show the words contrasted. Give the examples, in which the emphasis is carried through several sets of contrasted words, and point out which words are opposed to each other. (See last two examples on this page.) EMPHASIS. :i7 Eemark. — In many instances, one part only of the antithesis is expressed, the corresponding idea being understood ; as, A friendly eye would never see such faults. Here the unfriendly eye is understood. King Henry exclaims, while vainly endeavoring to compose himself to rest, How many thousands of my subjects are at this hour asleep. Here the emphatic words thousands, subjects, and asleep are contrasted in idea with their opposites, and if the contrasted ideas were expressed, it might be in this way : While I alone, their sovereign, am doomed to wakefulness. EMPHATIC PHRASE. Sometimes several words in succession are emphasized. EXAMPLES. Shall I, the conqueror of Spain and Gaul, and not only of the Alpine nations, but of the Alps themselves — shall I compare my self with this half — year — captain ? Shall we try argument ? Sir, we have been trying that for the LAST TEN YEARS. And if thou said’st, I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here. Lowland or Highland, far or near. Lord Angus — thou — hast — LIED ! EMPHATIC PAUSE. An emphatic expression of sentence often requires a pause, where the grammatical construction authorizes none. This is sometimes called the rhetorical pause. Such pauses occur, chiefly, before or after an emphatic word or phrase, and sometimes both before and after it. Questions. — Is the idea corresponding to the emphatic word ever left out? Explain the last two examples under this head, and show what is the idea opposed to friendly, in the one, and what are opposed to thousands, subjects, and asleep, in the other. What is meant by the emphatic phrase ? Give the examples. What do you understand by the emphatic pause 9 Where does it occur? 28 MODULATION. EXAMPLES. E-ise — fellow men ! our country — yet remains ! By that dread name we wave the sword on high, And swear ybr her — to live — with her — to die. But most — by numbers judge the poePs song; And smooth or rough, with them is — right or wrong. He said ; then full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo ! — H was white. VI. MODULATION. Modulation includes the variations of the voice. These may be classed under the heads of Pitch, Compass, Quantity, and Quality. "" PITCH AND COMPASS. . If any one will notice closely a sentence as uttered in pri- vate conversation, he will observe that very few successive words are pronounced in exactly the same tone. At the same time, however, there is a certain pitch or hey^ which seems, on the whole, to prevail. This key note or governing note, as it may be called, is that upon which the voice most frequently dwells, to which it usually returns when wearied, and upon which a sentence # generally commences and very frequently ends, while, at the same time, there is a considerable play of the voice above and below it. This note may be high or low. It varies in different indi- viduals, and at different times in the same individual, being governed by the nature of the subject and the emotions of the speaker. The range of the voice above and below this note, is called its COMPASS. When the speaker is animated, this range is great; but upon abstract subjects, or with a dull speaker, it is small. If, in reading or speaking, too high a note be chosen, Questions. — Give examples. What is modulation? What is meant by the key note? Is this the same at all times and in all individ- uals? What circumstances cause it to differ? What is meant by compass of voice? Under what circumstances is tliis range great? MODULATION. 29 the luugs will soou become wearied; if too low a pitch be selected, there is danger of indistinctness of utterance; and in either case there is less room for compass or variety of tone, than if one be taken between the two extremes. To secure the proper pitch and the greatest compass, observe the following rule. Rule XII. — The reader or speaker should choose that pitch, in wdiich he can feel himself most at ease, and above and below’ which he may have most room for variation. Remark 1. — Having chosen the proper key note, he should beware of confining himself to it. This constitutes monotony^ one of the greatest faults in elocution. One very important instrument for giving expression and life to thought is thus lost, and the hearer soon becomes wearied and disgusted. Remark 2. — There is another fault of nearly equal mag- nitude, and of very frequent occurrence. This consists in varying the tones without reference to the sense, A sentence is commenced with vehemence and in a high tone, and the voice gradually sinks, until the breath being spent, it dies away in a whisper. Remark 3. — The habit of sing-sony, so common in reading poetry, as it is a variation of tone without reference to the sense, is a species of the fault above mentioned. Remark 4. — If the reader or speaker is guided by the sense j and if he gives that emphasis^ infiection^ and expression^ required by the meaning, these faults will speedily disappear. Remark 5. — To improve the voice in these respects, prac- tice is necessary. Commence, for example, with the lowest pitch the voice can comfortably sound, and repeat whole para- graphs and pages upon that key. Then rise one note higher, and practice on that, then another, and so on, until the Questions. — When is it small? If too high a key note be selected, what is the consequence ? If the note be too low, what danger is there? What is the rule on this subject? What is monotony? What are the evils arising from this fault? What other faults of tone are mentioned ? AVhat manner of reading poetry is mentioned ? How are these faults to be corrected ? 30 MODULATION. liigliest pitch of the voice is reached. This is illustrated in the following example. Sound the lowest musical note and pronounce the sentence on the same, then the next, and so on. :: 8. — do — 9 — Man wants hut little here below. 7. si ^ Man wants but little here below. 6. — la — ^ — Man wants but little here below. 5. sol # Man wants but little here below. 4. -fa — 0 — Man wants but little here below. 3. mi Man wants but little here below. 2. — re — 0 — Man wants but little here below. 1. do 0 Man wants but little here below. QUANTITY AND QUALITY^ The tones of the voice should vary, also, in quantity^ or degree of loudness^ and in quality^ or expression^ ac- cording to the nature of the subject. Eemark. — We notice a difference between the soft, in sinuating tones of persuasion; the full, strong voice of com- mand and decision; the harsh, irregular, and sometimes grating explosion of the sounds of passion; the plaintive notes of sorrow and pity; and the equable and unimpassioned flow of words in argumentative style. The following direction, upon this point, is worthy of attention. Rule XIII. — The tones of the voice should always correspond, both in quantity and quality^ with the nature of the subject. EXAMPLES. ^“Come back! come back!^^ he cried, in grief, “ Across this stormy w^er, And Fll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter! oh, my daughter !^^ Passion and Grief, Plaintive, ' I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: - And that which should accompany old age, As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have. Questions. — ^Wliat is said with regard to varying the tones in quantity and quality? What difference do we notice in tones? Repeat Rule XIII. MODULATION. 31 1 A very great portion of this globe is covered with water, which is called sea, and is very distinct from rivers and lakes. Burned Marmion^s swarthy cheek like fire, And shook his very frame for ire. And — “ This to me?^^ he said ; “And Twere not for thy hoary beard. Such hand as Marmion^s had not spared To cleave the Douglas^ head ! “Even in thy pitch of pride. Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near, I tell thee thou h’t defied 1 And if thou said^st I am not peer To any lord in Scotland here. Lowland or Highland, far or near, ^ Lord Angus, thou hast lied Remark 1. — In our attempt to imitate nature, it is impor- tant to avoid affectation^ for to this fault even perfect monotony is preferable. Remark 2. — The strength of the voice may be increased by practicing with different degrees of loudness^ from a whisper to full rotundity, taking care to keep the voice on the same key. The same note in music may be sounded loud or soft. So also a sentence may be pronounced on the same pitch with different degrees of loudness. Having practiced with different degrees of loudness on one key, make the same experiment on another, and then on another, and so on. This will also give the learner practice in compass. Let the pupil sound the vowels, increasing from soft to loud, and then decreasing from loud to soft, as follows : ooooOOOOOOO OOOOO-Oooooo Questions. — What must be guarded against in attempts to imitate nature? How may the voice be improved in strength? How may the same note be sounded in music? How may this be applied to reading a sentence? Fierce Anger. Loud and Explosive. 32 POETIC PAUSES. VII. POETIC PAUSES. In poetry, we have, in addition to other pauses, poetic PAUSES. The object of these is simply to promote the melody. At the end of each line, a slight pause is generally proper, whatever be the grammatical construction or the sense. The purpose of this is,, to make prominent the melody of the measure, and, in rhyme, to allow the ear to appreciate the harmony of the similar sounds. There is, also, another important pause, somewhere near the middle of each line, which is called the cesura or cesural pause. In the following lines it is marked thus-—* EXAMPLES. There are hours long departed — which memory brings, Like blossoms of Eden — to twine round the heart, And as time rush^ by — on the might of his wings, They may darken awhile — but they never depart. Remark. — The cesural pause should never be so placed as to injure the sense. The following lines, if melody alone were consulted, would be read thus, With fruitless la — bor Clara bound, And strove to stanch — the gushing wound ; The Monk with un — availing cares, Exhausted all — the church’s prayers. This manner of reading, however, it will be readily per- ceived, would very much interfere with the proper expression of the idea. This is to be corrected, by making the cesural pause yield to the sense. The melody is not injured by this, as much as might be supposed. The above lines should be read thus. With fruitless labor — Clara bound. And strove to stanch— the gushing wound ; Questions. — What pause is peculiar to poetry ? What is the object of this pause? Where is a sZzyA^ pause generally proper? What is its object? What other pause in poetry is used? What is it called? Point it out in the examples. What caution is given with regard to its use ? EXERCISES. S3 The Monk — with unavailing cares, Exhausted — all the churches prayers. Sometimes, where the sense requires it, two cesural pauses may be made instead of one. EXAMPLES. Soldier, rest I — thy warfare o^er. Sleep the sleep — that knows not breaking ; Dream — of battle fields — no more. Days of danger — nights of waking. “ Ah, wretch !^’ — in wild anguish — he cried, “ From country — and liberty — torn ! Ah, Maratan ! — would thou hadst died. Ere o^er the salt waves thou wert borne.^^ In lines like the following, three cesural pauses are proper. The first and last are slight, and are sometimes called demi-cesuras. Our bugles-sang truce — for the night cloud-had lowered, And the sentinel stars — set their watch-in the sky; And thousands-had sunk — on the ground-overpowered ; The weary-to sleep — and the wounded-to die. Questions. — Explain this by the example given in the lines “With fruitless labor,” &c. When may there be two cesural pauses? When there are three, what are the first and last called? EXEECISES.^ -- I. DEATH OF FRANKLIN. ( To he read in a solemn tone.) Franklin is dead. The genius who freed America'", and poured a copious stream of knowladg© throughout Europe'", is returned unto tlie bosom of the Divini^. The sage to whom two worlds"' lay claim, the man for whom science^ and politics^ are disputing, indisputably enjoyed an elevated rank in human nature. The cabinets of princes have been long in the habit of notifying the death of those who were great"", only in their funeral orations^. Long hath the etiquette of courts'", pro/3laimed the mourning of hypocrisif. Nations' should wear mourning for none but their benefactors'^ . The representatives' of nations should recommend to public homage^, only those who have been the heroes of humanity'^. 34 EXERCISES. 11. BONAPARTE He knew no motive'^ but interes^'^; acknowledged no criterion but success'^; he worshiped no God^^ but ainbitioti^, and with an eastern devotion^ he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry^. Subsid- iary to this, there was no creed'" that he did not profess^, there was no opinion^ that he did not promulgate'^ : in the hope of a dynasty'" he upheld the crescent^; for the sake of a divorce^, he bowed before the cross^; the orphan of St, Louis he became the adopted child oi i\\Q republic'^ ; and with a parricidal ingratitude^, on the ruins both of the throne and the tribune^, he reared the throne of his despotism'^ . At his touch crowns'" crumbled^ ; beggars^ reigned'^; systems'" vanished^ ; the wildest theories'" took the color of his whim'^ ; and all that was venerable'^, and all that was noveV^ changed places with the rapidity of a dramo>. Nature had no obstacle'" that he did not surmount^ ; space no opposition^ he did not spurn'^ ; and whether amid Alpine rocks'^, — Arabian sands^, — or Polar snows'"^ — he seemed proof'^ against peril^, and empowered with ubiquity'^, HAMLET ON SEEING THE SKULL OF YORICK. Alas! poor Yorick ! I knew him well^, Horatio^; a fellow of infinite jest^, of most excellent fancy^. He hath borne me on his back^, a thousand times'^ ; and noiv'", how abhorred in my imag- ination is this skull^ 1 My gorge rises'^ at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed, I know not how oft^. Where are your gibes^, now? your gamho^ ? your songs'^? your flashes of merria,^ ment^^ that were wont to set the table in a ros^ ? Not one^j now, to mock your grinning^? quite chopfallen^f Now get you to my lady^s chambej::>, and tell her^, if she paint an inch thick'^, yet to this favor^ will she come at last^. IV. DESCRIPTION OF A BATTLE. . Yet still Lord Marmion^s falcon flew^ With wavering flight^, while fiercer grew Around, the battln yell. The border slogan rent the sky^^, A Home'^ ! a Gordon'^ ! was the cry^ ; Loud^ were the clanging blowa^ ; Advanced^, — forced back^, — now low^, — now high^ The pennon- sunk^ — and rose^; As bends the bark^s mast in the gale^. When rent are rigging^, shrouds^, and saiP, It wavered ^mid the foes': . EXERCISES. 35 The war, that for a space did faiP, Now trebly thundering swelled the gale^; And — Stanlet/'^! was the cry; A light on Marmion^s visage spread^, And fired his glazing eye^: — With dying hand^, above his head^, He shook the fragment of his blade^, And shouted^, — “ Victory^! Charge'^, Chester^, charge'll Stanley^, on' / — Were the last words of Marmion. V. LORD ULLIN’S DAUGHTER. Let the pupil be guided in this by his own judgment, in inflec- tion ani emphasis. A chieftain to the Highlands bound, Cries, “ Boatman, do not tarry ! And I HI give thee a silver pound. To row us o'er the ferry." Now, who be ye would cross Loch-Gyle, This dark and stormy water?" “ Oh ! I 'm the chief of Ulva's isle. And this. Lord Ullin's daughter. “ And fast before her father's men Three days we 've fled together. For should he find us in the glen. My blood would stain the heather. “His horsemen hard behind us ride : Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride, When they have slain her lover ?" Out spoke the hardy. Highland wight, “ I '11 go, my chief — I 'm ready : It is not for your silver bright. But for your winsome lady : - “ And, by my word ! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry ; So, though the waves are raging white, I '11 row you o'er the ferry." EXERCISES. By this, the storm grew loud apace, The water wraith was shrieking ; And, in the scowl of heaven, each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still, as wilder grew the wind And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode arrn-ed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. haste thee, haste the lady cries, “ Though tempests round us gather; I ^11 meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father/^ The boat has left the stormy land, A stormy sea before her ; When, oh ! too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o^er her. And still they rowed, amid the roar Of waters fast prevailing ; Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore. His wrath was changed to wailing. For sore dismayed through storm and shade, His child he did discover ; One lovely hand she stretched for aid, And one was round her lover. Come back! come backP^ he cried, in grief, “ Across this stormy water : And I ^11 forgive your Highland chief. My daughter ! oh, my daughter ^T was vain : the loud waves lashed the shore, Return or aid preventing : The waters wild, went o^er his child, And he was left lamenting. NEW FIFTH HEADER LESSON I. I WORDS TO BE SPELLED AND DEFINED. 1. Qual-i-fi-ca^-tions; n. traits. 2. State^-li-est; adj. most dig- nified and lofty. 4. Grace^-ful; adj. elegant. 5. Ver^-dure; n. greenness. 7. In-sure^; v. to make sure. THE FOREST TREES.— A Fable. O* Words marked thus (‘^) in the body of the lessons should be spelled and defined in addition to those whose definitions are given. See +various and +conversation in the first paragraph. Pronounce correctly the following words found in this lesson. Do not say for-es for for-es^ ; varoiis, for va-ri-ous ; sevWal for Bev-e?'-al ; talles for tall-es^ ; friens for frientZs ; stateliess for state-li-esi? ; selected for 5e-lected. 1. In a fine forest of trees of ‘‘'various kinds, there were several which '%ere holding a ‘‘‘conversation upon their ‘‘‘particular beauty, use, size, strength, and other qualifications. Some ‘‘‘boasted of one thing, some of another. 2. One of the tallest and finest trees said proudly, ‘‘Which of you, my friends, is so tall and straight as I am? I am the stateliest tree in the forest.” 3. Another one said, “Which of you is so strong as 1 am? I have stood in the storm for years, and no beast has been able to bend or break me down. I am the strongest tree in the forest.” 4. A third said, “Which of you is so graceful as 1 am? My branches all wave in the breeze in the most ■‘‘elegant manner. I am the most graceful tree in the forest.” 37 38 NEW FIFTH READER. 5. Another said, ^^You may all boast of your size, strength, and '’’elegance, hut when winter has stripped you of your verdure, how naked and '’’desolate you ap- pear, while I am clothed in ’’’everlasting green. I am the only tree worth looking at. I am the brightest and most '^unfading tree in the forest.” 6. While these '’’vain trees were thus talking, each trying to appear better than the others, the owner of the forest came with his wood-cutter, to mark some trees which he meant to have cut down^. The tall, the strong, the graceful, and the evergreen tree, were all ’’’selected^, and in another hour were laid low by the ax, and cut up for use^. MORAL. 7. Thus you see how foolish it is to be proud of any qualifications we possess, as like these ’’’boastful trees, we have not power to insure their '’’continuance^. Questions. — Relate this fable. What is its moral? Where are falling inflections marked in this lesson? Where, rising inflections ? LESSON IIX . WORDS TO BE SPELLED AND DEFINED. 3. Sap^-ling ; n. a small tree. I 3. Rift^-ed ; adj. burst open. 3. Grap^-pled; contended with. | 4. Gust^-y; adj. stormy. THE OAK TREE. Pronounce correctly. Do not say monuch for mon-arch ; fora for for-es^ ; acun for a-corn ; fuss for fir&t ; frm-iss for firm-es^ ; tem-pis for tem-p€s^5. 1. Sing for the oak tree. The '’’monarch of the wood ; Sing for the oak tree. That groweth green and good ; That groweth broad and branching Within +he ’’’forest shade ; That groweth now, and yet shall grow, When we are lowly laid. ECLECTIC SERIES. 39 2. The oak tree was an ’^'acorn once, And fell upon the earth ; And sun and showers nourished it, And gave the oak tree birth. The little ^sprouting oak tree ! Two leaves it had at first. The sun and showers had nourished it, Then out the branches burst. 3. The little sapling oak tree ! Its root was like a thread. Till the kindly earth had nourished it; Then out it freely spread : On this side and on that side It grappled with the ground ; And in the “^ancient, rifted rock. Its firmest footing found. 4. The winds came, and the rain fell ; The gusty tempest blew ; All, all were friends to the oak tree, And stronger yet it grew. The boy that saw the acorn fall^. He feeble grew and gray^; But the oak was still a thriving tree^, And strengthened every day^. Questions. — From what does an oak tree grow ? How is it nour- ished ? What is said of its age in the last verse ? Where is the rising inflection marked in this lesson ? What is the rule for its use there ? Where is the falling inflection marked ? What rule ? EXERCISE I.—ARTICULATION. To Teachers. — Each difficult word should he uttered clearly, firs» by its elements, and then by their combination, omitting silent let ters : as, d-e-th^ deaths crime. Then read carefully and distinctly Eibs, death, cry, crime, orb’d, act, acts. The ribs of death. Can you cry, crackers, crime, cruelty, crutches ? The orb^d moon. It was the worst act of all acts. It is a mixed government. The idle spindle. Long droves of cattle. Their deeds show their feelings. The length, and breadth, and depth of the thing. It was highly and holily done. 40 NEW FIFTH READER, LESSON III. 3 1. Re-source^; n. means of sup- piy- 3. Bwin^-dled ; v, became less. 4. Es-pied^; V. saw. 5. Fal^-ter-ing ; hesitating. 9. Bonds^-man ; n. one bound for another. 12. Vi-BRA^-TiONS ; n. moving to ' and fro. 13. Huskey ; adj. dry, rough. 18. In-au^-di-ble ; adj. that can not be heard. ^ 19. Im^-ple-ments ; n. tools. 19. In^-va-ltd ; n. a sick person. 22^^ CoN-so^-LiNG-LY ; adv. com- fortingly. 22. Un-wont^-ed ; unusual. 23. Pre-scrip^-tion ; n. direction for medicines. 34. Ob-li-ga^-tion ; n. promise THE POOR WIDOW. Pronounce correctly. Do not say chile for chilcZ; wipin for wi-pin^; fellei' for fel-lot^?; fuss for firs^; kinely for kin(i-ly ; ?aym for lay-in^ ; Aan for hancZ; dolluz ^ov dio\-\ars, 1. must be, my child,” said the poor widow, wiping away the tears which slowly ^trickled down her wasted cheeks. “ There is no other resource. I am too sick to work, and you can not surely see me and your little brother starve.” 2. The boy, a noble looking little fellow of about ten years, started up, and after throwing his arms around his mother’s neck, left the house without a word. He did not hear the groan of ^anguish that was uttered by his parent, as the door closed behind him; and it was well that he did not,‘for his little heart was ready to burst without it. 3. It was a by walked to and fro one person and then at another, as they passed him ; but ^ no one seemed to look kindly on him, and the longer he waited, the faster his courage dwindled away. The tears were running fast down his cheeks, but nobody seemed to care ; for although clean, Henry looked poor and ^miserable, and it is common for the poor and mis- erable to cry. -street in Philadelphia, and on the sidewalk, he lookec^^ftrst ^ ECLECTIC SERIES. 41 4. Kvory body seemed in a hurry, and the poor bo}^ was quite in ‘♦'despair, when at last he espied a gentle- man who seemed to be very '♦'leisurely taking a morning walk. He was dressed in black, wore a three-cornered hat, and had a j^leasant '♦'countenance. When Henry looked at him, he felt all his fears '♦'vanish at once, and instantly approached him. 5. His tears had been flowing so long, that his eyes were quite red and swollen, and his voice trembled; but that was with weakness, for he had not eaten for twenty-four hours. As Henry, with a low faltering voice, begged for a little ‘♦'charity, the gentleman stopped; and his kind heart melted with '♦'compassion, as he looked into the fair countenance of the poor boy, and saw the deep '♦'blush which spread over his face, and listened to the modest, humble tones, which '♦'accompa- nied his '♦'petition. 6. “You do not look like a boy who has been '♦'accus- tomed to beg his bread,” said he, laying his hand kindly on the boy’s shoulder; “what has driven you to this step?” 7. “Indeed,” answered Henry, his tears beginning to flow afresh, “indeed, I was not born in this condition. But the misfortunes of my father, and the sickness of my mother, have driven me to this step.” 8. “Who is your father?” inquired the gentleman, still more '♦'interested. 9. “My father was a rich merchant of this city; but he became bondsman for a friend, who soon after '♦'failed, and he was entirely ruined. He could not live long after this loss, and in one month died of '♦'grief; and his death was more dreadful than any of our troubles. My mother, my little brother, and myself, soon sunk into the lowest depths of poverty. 10. “My mother has, until now, '♦'managed to support herself and my little brother by her labor, and I have earned what I could, by shoveling snow and other work that I could And to do. But, night before last, she was taken very sick, and has since become so much worse, 42 NEW FIFTH READER. that I fear she will die. I can not think of any way to help her. 11. “I have had no work for several weeks. I have not had the courage to go to any of my mother’s old ■’’acquaintances, and tell them that she has come to need charity. I thought you looked like a stranger, sir, and something in your face overcame my shame, and gave me courage to speak to you. Oh, sir, do pity my pool mother.” 12. The tears, and the simple, moving language of the poor boy, touched a chord in the breast of the stranger, which was accustomed to frequent vibrations. 13. “Where does your mother live, my boy?” said he in a husky voice: “is it far from here?” 14. “She lives in the last house on this street, sir,” replied Henry. “You can see it from here in the third block, and on the left hand side.” 15. “Have you sent for a ‘’’physician ?” 16. “Ho, sir,” said the boy, “I had no money, to pay either for a physician or for ’’’medicine.” 17. “Here,” said the stranger, drawing some pieces of money from his pocket — “here are three dollars; take them and run immediately for a physician.” 18. Henry’s eyes flashed with ’’’gratitude; he received the money with a ’’’stammering and almost inaudible voice; but with a look of the warmest gratitude he van- ished. '19. The ’’’benevolent stranger instantly sought the dwelling of the sick widow. He entered a little room, in which he could see nothing but a few implements of female labor, a miserable table, an old ’’’bureau, and a little bed which stood in one corner, on which the inva- lid lay. She appeared weak, and almost ’’’exhausted; and on the bed, at her feet, sat a little boy, crying as if his heart would break. 20. Deeply moved at this sight, the stranger drew near the bedside of the invalid, and, ’’’feigning to be a physieian, inquired into the nature of her ’’’disease. The symptoms were explained in a few words, when the ECLECTIC SERIES. 43 widow, with a deep sigh, added, “ Oh, my sickness has a dee 2 )er cause, and one which is beyond the art of the physician to cure. 21. “I am a mother, a wretched mother. I see my children sinking daily deeper and deeper in want, whieh I have no means of relieving. My sickness is of the heart, and nothing but death can rid my sorrows. But even death is dreadful to me, for it awakens the thought of the misery into which my children would be plunged if ” 22. Here '^emotion checked her ■^'utterance, and the tears flowed ^unrestrained dov/n her cheeks. But the pretended physician spoke so consolingly to her, and ■^manifested so warm a '^sympathy for her condition, that the heart of the poor woman '^'throbbed with a pleasure that was unwonted. 23. “Do not despair,” said the stranger, “think only of recovery, and of preserving a life that is so precious to your children. Can -4 write a prescription here?” 24. The poor widow took a little prayer book from the hands of the child who sat with her on the bed, and, tearing out a blank leaf, “ I have no other,” said she, “ but perhaps this will do.” 25. The stranger took a pencil from his pocket, and wrote a few lines uj)on the paper. 26. “This prescription,” said he, “you will find of great service to you. If it is necessary, I .will write yon a second. I have great hopes of your recovery.” 27. He laid the paper on the table, and departed. Scarcely was he gone, when the elder son returned. 28. “ Cheer up, dear mother,” said he, “going up and ■’'affectionately kissing her. “ See what a kind, benevo- lent stranger has given us. It will make us rich for several days. It has ’’'enabled us to have a physician, and he wiW be here in a moment. ’’'Compose yourself, now, dear mother, and take courage.” 29. “Come nearer, my son,” answered the mother, looking with pride and affection on her child. “ Como nearer, that I may bless you. God never forsakes the 44 N E W FI F T ii READER. innocent, and the good. Oh, may He watch over you in ail your paths! A physician has just been here. He was a stranger, but he spoke to me witli a kindness that was +balni to my heart. He left that prescription on the table. See if you can read it.” 30. Henry glanced at the paper and started back. He took it up, and as he read it through again and again, a " cry of wonder and astonishment escaped him. 31. “What is it^, my son^?” exclaimed the poor widow, trembling with an ’^apprehension — of she knew not — what. 32. “ Ah, read, dear mother ! God has heard us.” 33. The mother took the paper froni the hand of her son, but no sooner had she fixed her eyes upon it, than she exclaimed, “ It is Washington 1” and fell back faint- ing on her pillow. 34. The writing was an obligation from Washington^ — for it was indeed he^ — ^by which the widow was to receive the sum of one hundred dollars from his own private *^property, to be doubled in case of necessity. 35. Meanwhile, the expected physician made his ap- pearance, and soon awoke the mother from her fainting fit. The joyful "^surprise, together wfith a good nurse, with which the physician supplied her, and a plenty of ^ wholesome food^, soon restored her to perfect health^. 36. The Hnfluence of Washington, who visited them more than once, provided for the widow friends, who furnished her with constant employment ; and her sons, when they arrived at the proper age, were placed in Hespectable situations, where they were able to support themselves, and *^render the remainder of their mother’s life comfortable and happy. 37. Let the children who read this story, remember, when they think of the great and good Washington, that he was not above entering the dwelling of poverty, and carrying joy and gladness to the hearts of its ‘^inmates. Questions. — What did the hoy attempt to do? What success did he have? What did the man, whom he met, say and do? Whom did it prove to he? What should his example teach us? ECLECTIC SERIES. 45 EXERCISE II.— ARTICULATION. O’ Let the teacher select the difficult words foi the pupil to spell by their elements. Articulate distinctly the difficult sounds. Earth that en- iomb’st all my heart holds dear. Mis attempts were /a^7/^less. Hold off your hands, gentlemen. The sounds of horses^ hoofs were heard. What wanfst thou here? It was wrenched by the hand of violence. Their singed tops, though bare, vnll stand. The strength of his nostrils is terrible. A gentle current rippled by. He barb’d the dart. How do you like hey'bs in your broth f LESSON IV. y 1. Tem^-ple; n. a church. 2. Shel^-ter-ing ; v. protecting. 2. Rest^-less ; adj. not quiet. 3. E-ven-tide^; n. evening. 4. Striv^-en; v. contended against. 5. Dis-tress^; n. misery. 6. Pen^-i-tence; n. sorrow, [wings. 6. Brood^-ing ; v. covering with TIRED OF PLAY. Pronounce correctly the following words in this lesson. Do not say creep-in for creep-ing ; shelter-in for shelter-ing ; brood-m for brood-ing ; sing-in for sing-ing ; res-less for rest-less ; fauls for faults ; coulds for couldst; cre-tur for creat-ure {pr. cr6af-yur). 1. Tired of play! tired of play! What hast thou done this Hive-long day^? The birds are silent, and so is the bee; The sun is creeping up temple and tree ; 2. 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^? 3. Playing^? But what hash thou done beside, To tell thy mother at eventide^? What promise of morn is left unbroken ? What kind word to thy ’^play-mate spoken^ ? 46 NEW FIFTH READER. 4. Whom hast thou pitied and whom forgiven? How with thy faults has duty striven? What hast thou learned by field and hill? By "^green-wood path, and singing rill^ ? 5. Well for thee if thou couldst tell A tale like this of a day spent well, If thy kind hand has aided distress, And thou pity hast felt for "‘'wretchedness^; 6. If thou hast forgiven a brother’s "‘"offense, And grieved for thine own with penitence ; If every creature has won thy love, From the creeping worm to the brooding dove. Then with joy and peace on the bed of rest Thou wilt sleep as on thy mother’s breast^. Questions. — What is meant by the expression, “The sun is creep- ing up temple and tree”? How had the day been spent? How ought our days to be spent that we may feel peace and happiness at their close? What inflection should “playing” receive in the 3d stanza ? Why ? LESSON^Vcf" 2. CoN^'-scious-NESs; n. feeling knowledge. 2. Ve^-hi-cle; n. a carriage. 7. Plaid; n. a kind of cloak. 10. Ap-peals' ; n. call for aid. 10. Hu-man^-i-ty; n. kindness. 11. In^-ci-dent; n. occurrence. 13. In-di-ca^-ted ; v. showed. THE ORPHAN. Pronounce correctly the following words in this lesson. Do not say coach-mun for coach-man ; im-pleas-unt for un-pleas-ant ; silunced for si-knced; henevolunt for be-nev-o-knt; intemp^runce for in-tem-pe-rance ; ignorunce for ig-no-rance ; recullect for rec- ol-lect ; supprised for sur-prised ; drounded for drowned. 1. On a dark, cold night, in the middle of November,/ as Mr. Lawrence was traveling iu a stage coach from London to Morwich, he was roused from a sound sleep, ECLECTIC SERIES. 47 at the end of the stage, by the coaclfman’s opening the door of the carriage, and begging leave to look for a parcel which was in the box under Mr. Lawrence’s seat. 2. The opening of the door admitted a violent gust of wind and rain, which was very unpleasant to the feel- ing of the sleeping ^passengers, and roused them to a consciousness of the ***situation of those who were on the outside of the vehicle. 3. hope, coachman, you have a good thick coat on, to guard you against the cold and wet,” said Mr. Law- rence. have a very good one, sir,” replied the man, “but I have lent it to a poor little girl we have on the top ; for my heart bled for her^ poor thing, she had so little clothing to keep her warm.” 4. “A child exposed on the outside of the coach, on such a night as this!” exclaimed Mr. Lawrence. “lam sure it would be very wrong in us to let her stay there. Do let us have her in ^immediately. It is quite ‘^'shock- ing to think of her being in such a situation.” 5. “ Oh, no,” cried a gentleman opposite, “we can do nothing with her. It is quite out of the question. The coach is already full, and she will be so wet, that we might as well be on the outside ourselves, as sit near her. Beside, she is a poor child, in charge of the master of a workhouse, and one does not know what she may have about her.” 6. “Why, as to that, sir,” replied the coachman, “I be- lieve she is as clean as any child needs to be, though she is rather tdelicate looking, poor thing! But she is a fine little creature, and deserves better fare than she is likely to get where she is going.” 7. “Let her come in, at any rate,” said Mr. Lawrence, “for poor or rich, she is equally '^sensible to cold, and no' one, I am sure, who has a child of his own, can bear the' idea of her being so exposed. And as to her being wet, I will wrap her in my plaid, and take her on my knee, so that no one can feel any '^'inconvenience from it.” 8. This silenced the gentleman’s '^objections; and the rest of the company agreeing to it, the coachman was 48 NEW FIFTH READER. desired to bring the child in, which he gladly did, and the dry plaid being rolled about her, Mr. Lawrence took her upon his knee, and j)utting his arm around her, clasped her with ‘^benevolence and self-satisfaction to his breast. “I am afraid you are very cold, my poor little girl,” said he. 9. was very cold, indeed, till the coachman was so good to me as to let me have his coat,” replied she, in a very sweet and cheerful voice; “but you have made me warmer still,” she added, and as she spoke, she laid her head against the breast of her benevolent friend, and was asleep in a few minutes. 10. “The coachman showed a great deal of '^'concern for her,” said one of the passenger^ “I could hardly have expected so much feeling in the driver of a stago. coach.” “I believe there is much more hum^ity among the lower classes of people, than is generally supposed,” said Mr. Lawrence, “for we seldom meet with one who is deaf to the appeals of childli^d or *^helples^iess.” 11. His companion was too sleepy to dispute the point, and the whole party soon sunk into the same state of torpor, from which this little incident had roused them, and from which they were only '^occasion- ally disturbed by the changing of horses, or the coach- man’s ■^‘application for their ‘^'usual fee, till the full dawn of day induced them to shake off their ‘^drowsiness. 12. When Mr. Lawrence awoke, he found that his little companion was still in a deep sleep, and he thought, with satisfaction, of the sound rest he had pro- cured for her, with only a very little '^inconvenience to himself. He was glad, too, that he had interested him- self for her before he saw her; for had he seen the ■^'prepossessing face which he then beheld, he might have suspected that his ‘^'interference had been prompted by her beauty as much as by her distress. 13. She was of a fair complexion and regular features ; but Mri Lawrence was particularly interested in her sensible and expressive countenance, which indicated extreme sweetiiess of disposition. “What a pity,” ECLECTIC SERIES. 49 thought he, as he looked at her, ‘^that so promising a little creature should be confined to the ^charity of a poor house, and there reared in vice and ignorance ! ” 14. As these thoughts passed across his mind, the little girl awoke, and looked around her, as if at a loss to know where she was ; but, at the next moment, seeming to '^'recollect herself, and looking in Mr. Lawrence’s face, she returned his kindness by a smile of satisfaction. “Have you had a good sleep, my dear?” asked he, kindly. “Yes, sir, I have been sleeping very soundly, and I thought I was at home.” 15. “Where is your home?” asked Mr. Lawrence. “I call where my Aunt Mary used to live my home.” “And where did your Aunt Mary live?” “I do not know what they called the place, but it was at the end of a long lane, and there was a pretty garden before the house. It was such a nice place ; I am sure you would like it if you saw it.” 16. “ Do you know the name of the place ? ” “ Ho, sir, I do not know what they call it ; only that it was Aunt Mary’s house, and it was near the large town they call Essex, where my father lived, and where there were a great many ships, and a large river.” 17. Surprised at the easy and correct manner in which this little girl, who bore marks of nothing but the great- est poverty, expressed herself, Mr. Lawrence’s "^curiosity was greatly excited, and feeling much interested respect- ing her, he asked her name. 18. “ My Aunt Mary used to call me Fanny Edwards,” replied she, “ but my new mother told me I must say my name is Peggy Short, but I do not like that name.” 19. “ Why did she tell you to call yourself by that name?” asked Mr. Lawrence. “I can not tell you, sir, for she used to call me Fanny herself till she took me to the large town that we came to yesterday; and then she called me Peggy, and said I must call myself so.” 20. “ Where is your Aunt Mary now ? And your new mother, as you call her, where is she gone? ” 21. “My Aunt Mary went away a long time since. .5th *R.— .5 50 NEW FIFTH READ-EK. She said she was forced to go to a lady who was ill, that had been very kind to her ; but she would come back to me soon, and then I should live with her again, and that I must love her till she came back, and I have loved her all this time very dearly, but she has never come again.” As the child said this, her little heart swelled, and her eyes filled with tears. 22. Where did you go when she left you ? ” ‘^inquired Mr. Lawrence. “I went to live with my father; for I had a new mother, my Aunt Mary said, who would take care of me. But my father went away in a ship, and my new mother said he was drowned in the sea, and would never come back again ; and then she was not very kind to me ; not so very kind as my Aunt Mary used to be ; for my Aunt Mary never beat me, but used to take me upon her knee, and tell me pretty stories, and teach me the way to read them myself, that 1 might learn to be a useful woman ; and used to kiss me, and say she loved me very dearly when I was a good girl.” 23. “And I hope you were always a good girl,” said Mr. Lawrence, patting her cheek. “No, sir,” said she, “ I was not always good, for once I told a story, and my Aunt Mary did not love me for a great many days, and I was very unhappy.” “ That was indeed bad, but you will never tell another story, I trust.” 24. “I hope not,” said the child '^'modestly ; and Mr. Lawrence, '^desirous of knowing something more of her history, asked her again what had become of her mother. “ I do not know what has become of her, but I am afraid she has lost herself, foi* when we got to the large town, she told me to sit down upon a door step, until she came back to me. I sat a very long time, till it was quite dark, and I was very cold and hungry, and she never came to me, and I could not help crying. The lady that lived in the house heard me, asked me what was the matter; and when I told her, she took me into the kitchen, and gave me something to eat, and was very kind to me.” 25. At this simple ‘^narrative, the passengers were all ECLECTIC SERIES. 51 much affected. Even the gentleman who had first '‘’op- posed her coming into the coach, rubbed his hand across his eyes and said, “Poor thing, poor thing,” wliile Mr. Lam’ence pressed her more closely toward him, and rejoiced that Providence had thrown in his way, this sweet little girl, whom he resolved to adopt and add to his own hapjly family. Questions. — What were the circumstances which led Mr. Lawrence to become interested with the orphan ? Relate her story as she told it to him. What did he do for her? EXERCISE III. They reefed the topsails. No dangers fright him. He quenched a flame. She laughs at him. A frame of adamant. She begged pardon. Thou look^st from thy throne in the clouds, and laugh^st at the storm. The glowworm lights her lamp. The table groans beneath its burden. All clothed in rags an infant lay. LESSON 1. Hale; adj. healthy, robust. | 3. Man^-tle-tree ; n. shelf over 8. Plod''-ded ; v. went slowly. | a fire place. THE GRANDFATHER. Pronounce the following words in this lesson correctly. Ho not say for smo-kin^; clearin for clear-in^ ; ketchin for catch-mg ; iurnin ior ixLYn-mg ; for spin-nin^. 1. The fa^er sat in his ea^ chair Smoking his pipe of clay. While his hale old wife with busy care, Was clearing the dinner away ; A sweet little girl with fine blue eyes. On her gra^father’s knee, was catching flies, 2. The old man laid his hand on her head. With a tear on his wrinkled face. He thought how often her mother dead, Had sat in the self same place ; JNJ^W FIFTH READER. As the tear stole down from his half shut, eye, “ Don’t smoke !” said the child, “ how it makes you cry I’* 3. The house dog lay, stretched out on the floor. Where the shade, aftern/'ons,, used to steal; The busy old wife by the v^pen door Was turning the spinning wheel. And the old brass clock on t?je mantletree. Had plodded along to almost three. 4. Still the farmer sat in his easy chair. While close to his heaving breast. The moistened brow and the cheek so fair Of his sweet grandchild were pressed ; His head bent down, on her soft hair lay; Fast asleep were they both on that summer day. Questions. — Tell the story of the farmer and his sweet grandcliild as related in the above verses. What noun in the last line ? What pronoun ? What verb ? What adjectives ? What adverb ? What preposition ? To Teachers. — The grammatical questions introduced at the close of the reading lessons, will be found to add interest and value to the exercise of reading. They should by no means be neglected, but may be varied or increased at the discretion of the teacher. EXERCISE IV. It was a species of calx, wliicli he showed me. The word filcli is of doubtful derivation. If thou falVst, thou falVst a blessed martyr. Health is indispensable to the soldier. Those who lie entomb’d in the cemetery. The attempt and not the deed, confounds us. But truth, and liberty, and virtue, would fall with him. The song began from Jove. Do you meanpZam ov playing f I quench thee, thou flaming ^r^brand. A frame of adamant, and strength of Hercules, The hills, and halls, and hulls. The ranges, and changes, and hinges, and fringes Spasms, and prisms, and chasms, and phasms. ECLECTIC SERIES. 53 LESSON VII./ 2. Dis-cov^-ered ; v. found out. 2. TTn^-y ; adj. very small. 3, CoM-PO^-SER ; n. an author. 3. Or^-ches-tra; n. a body of musicians. 3. CoM-PO-si^-TiONS; n. musical ^ pieces. 6 . Rap^-tures ; n. extreme de- ^ light. V 8. Chat^-ting ; v. talking famil- iarly. 10. De-ject^-ed ; v. discouraged, ^ low-spirited. 10. Strewn ; v. scattered. (TT It will be recollected, that those definitions only arQ given, which are appropriate in the connection in which the word is used. LITTLE VICTORIES. Remark. — In conversational pieces like the following, the manner of each speaker should be imitated, as in a dialogue. Articulate the letter cZ. Do not say row?! for rouncZ; founiov founc^; for mine?; mile iov m.i\d ; Aw ?i-rec?5 for hun-eZreds ; han for hanc? ; tole for tole? ; an for anc? ; fon for foneZ ; a^sJiame for a-sham'eZ. Articulate the L Do not say loss for losZ; hnrs for burs?* ywi-s for jus?; ^rea?-e5 for great-es?; ?owc?-e5 for loud-es?. 1. “ Oh, mother, now that I have lost my limb, I can never be a soldier or a sailor; I can never go round the world!” And Hugh burst into tears, now more really '^afflicted than he had ever been yet. His mother sat on the bed beside him, and wiped away his tears as they flowed, while he told her, as well as his sobs would let him, how long and how much ho had reckoned on going round the world, and how little he cared for any thing else in future; and now this was the very thing he should never be able to do ! 2. He had practiced climbing ever since he could remember, and now this was of no use ; he had '*'prac- ticed marching, and now he should never march again. When he had finished his comj)laint, there was a pause, and his mother said, “ Hugh, you have heard of Huber.” 54 NEW FIFTH READER. “ The man who found out so much about bees?” said Hugh. “ Bees and ants. When Huber had discovered more than had ever been known about these, and when he was sure that he could learn still more, and was more and more anxious to peep into their tiny homes, and curious ways, he became blind.” , 3. Hugh sighed, and his mother went on. “ Did you ever hear of Beethoven ? He was one of the greatest '‘'musical composers that ever lived. His great, his sole delight, was in music. It was the passion of his life. When all his time and all his mind were given to music, he suddenly became deaf, perfectly deaf ; so that he never more heard one single note from the loudest orchestra. While crowds were moved and de- lighted with his compositions, it was ail silence to him.” Hugh said nothing. 4. ‘^Now do you think,” asked his mother — and Hugh saw that a mild and gentle smile '‘'beamed from her countenance — “do you think that these people were without a heavenly Parent?” “Oh no! but were they patient?” asked Hugh. “Yes, in their different ways and '‘'degrees. Would you suppose, that they were hardly treated ? Or would you not rather suppose, that their Father gave them something better to do, than they had planned for them- selves?” 5. “He must know best, of course; but it does seem rery hard, that that very thing should happen to them. Huber would not have so much minded being deaf, per- haps; or that musical man being blind.” “No doubt their hearts often swelled within them, at their '‘'disappointments ; but I fully believe that they very soon found God’s will to be wiser than their wishes. They found, if they bore their trial well, that there was Vvmrk for their hearts to do, far nobler than ,any the head could do through the eye, or the ear. And they soon felt a new and delicious pleasure, which none but the bitterly disappointed can feel.’^ “What is that?” ECLECTIC SERIES. 55 6. “The pleasure of rousing the soul to bear pain, and of agreeing with God silently, when nobody knows what is in the breast. There is no pleasure like that of ^exer- cising one’s soul in bearing, pain, and of finding one’s heart glow with the hope that one is pleasing God.” “Shall I feel that pleasure?” “Often and often, I have no doubt: every time you can willingly give up your wish to be a soldier, or a sailor, or any thing else you have set your mind upon, you will feel that pleasure. But I do not expect it of you yet. I dare say, it was long a bitter thing to Beet- hoven to see hundreds of people in raptures with his music, when he could not hear a note of it.” ' 7. “But did he ever smile again?” asked Hugh. “If he did, he was happier than all the fine music in the world could have made him,” replied his mother. “I wonder, oh, I wonder if I shall ever feel so!” “We will pray to God that you may. Shall we ask him now?” Hugh clasped his hands. His mother kneeled beside the bed, and, in a very few words, prayed that Hugh might be able to bear his ‘‘'misfortune well, and that his friends might give him such help and comfort as God should approve. - — ' 8. Hugh found himself subject to very painful feelings sometimes, such as no one quite understood, and such as he feared no one was able to pity as they deserved. On one ■‘‘occasion, when he had been quite merry for a while, and^iis mother and sister Agnes were chatting, they thought they heard a sob from the sofa. They spoke to Hugh, and found that Ije was indeed crying bitterly. “What is it, my dear,” said his mother. “Agnes, have we said any thing that could hurt his feelings?” “Ho, no,” sobbed Hugh. “I will tell you presently.” 9. And presently he told them, that he was so busy listening to what they said, that he forgot every thing else, when he felt as if something got between two of his toes ; ‘‘‘unconsciously he put down his hand, as if hia foot was there! Nothing could be plainer than the feel- ing in his toes ; and, then, when he put out his hand, 5G NEW FIFTH READEU. j.iid found nothing, it was so terrible! it startled him so It was a comfort to find that his mother knew about this. She came, and kneeled by his sofa, and told him that many persons who had lost a limb, considered this tlie most painful thing they had to bear, for some time; but that, though the feeling would return occasionally through life, it would cease to be painful. 10. Hugh was very much dejected, and when he thought of the months and years, to the end of his life, and that he should never run and play, and never be like other people, he almost wished that he was dead. Agnes thought that he must be '^miserable indeed, if he could venture to say this to his mother. She glanced at her mother’s face, but there was no "^displeasure there. On the contrary, she said this feeling was very natural. She had felt it herself, under smaller misfortunes than Hugh’s; but she had found, though the prospect appears all strewn with troubles, that they come singly, and are not so hard to bear, after all. 11. She told Hugh, that when she was a little girl, she was very lazy, fond of her bed, and not at all fond of dressing or washing. “ Why, mother 1 you? ” exclairued Hugh. “Yes; that was the sort of little girl I was. Well, i was in "‘‘despair, one day, at the thought that I should have to wash and clean my teeth, and brush my hair, and put on every article of dress, every morning as long as 1 lived.” “ Did you tell any body ? ” asked Hugh. 12. “ Ho ; I was ashamed to do that ; but I remember 1 cried. You see how it Dims out. When Ave have be- come "‘"accustomed to any thing, Ave do it without CA^er thinking of the trouble, and, as the old fable tells us, the clock, that has to tick so many millions of times, has exactly the same number of seconds to do it in. So Avdll you find, that you can move about on each "‘"separate occasion, as you wish, and practice Avill enable you to do it without any trouble or thought.” “ But this is not all, nor half A^hat I mean,” said Hugh ECLECTIC SEUIES. 57 13. “ IS'o, my dear, nor half what you will have to bear. You resolved to bear it all '’‘patiently, I remember. But what is it you dread the most? ” “ Oh ! all manner of things. I can never do like other people.” “Some things,” replied his mother. “You can never play cricket, as every Crofton boy would like to do. You can never dance at your sister’s Christmas parties.” 14. “Oh! mamma!” cried Agnes, with tears in her eyes, and with the thought in her mind, that it was cruel to talk so. “Go on! Go on!” cried Hugh, brightening. “You know what I feel, mother; and you don’t keep telling me, as others do, and even sister Agnes, sometimes, that it will not '’'signify much, and that I shall not care, and all that ; making out that it is no misfortune, hardly, when I know what it is, and they do n’t. How then, go on, mother ! What else ? ” 15. “ There will be little checks and '’'mortifications ■’'continually, when you see little boys leaping over this, and climbing that, and playing at the other, while you must stand out, and can only look on. And some people will pity you, in a way you will not like : and some may even laugh at you.” “ Oh mamma ! ” exclaimed Agnes. “ Well, and what else? ” said Hugh. 16. “ Sooner or later, you will have to follow some way of life determined by this '’'accident, instead of one that you would have liked better.” “ VYell, what else?” “ I must ask you, now. I can think of nothing more ; and I hope there is not much else; for, indeed, I think here is quite enough for a boy, or any one else, to bear.” “ I will bear it, though ; you will see.” 17. “ You will find great helps. These misfortunes, of themselves strengthen one’s mind. They have some '’'advantages, too. You will be a better scholar for your lameness, I have no doubt. You will read more books, and have a mind richer in thoughts. You will be more 58 NEW FIFTH READER. beloved by us all, and you yourself will love G-od more for having given you something to bear for his sake. God himself will help you to bear your trials. You will conquer your troubles one by one, and by a ■‘‘succession of LITTLE ■‘‘VICTORIES, will, at last, completely triumph over all.” Questions. — What was the matter with Hugh ? What plan for the future did this misfortune interfere with ? Whom did his mother mention as having been similarly situated ? How was Huber disap- pointed ? How was Beethoven disappointed ? From whom come our disappointments ? Are they intended for our good ? How should we feel under them? How did Hugh’s mother comfort him? What did Hugh determine to do? In what way did his mother think that his misfortune would be an advantage to him ? In the last sentence, which words are in the objective case? What two verbs are in the future tense ? Which are the pronouns ? Which are the prepositions? In the 14th paragraph, what interjection is there? Point out three nouns in this paragraph. What does the word noun mean? See Pinneo’s Primary Grammar, page 9, Art. 2. EXERCISE V. The bricks were thoroughly^ dried. Crack’d^ crinkUd crayon. They drank of the purling brook. Grand crags arose towering on every side. LESSON VIII./ 1. Grieved ; v. given pain to. 1. Gusii^'-ing; adj. rushing forth. 1. Re-lie VED^; v. freed from pain. 2. Spright^-ly; adj. lively. 2. De-cayed^; v. faded. 3. Be-tide^; V. may happen ta MY MOTHER. Pronounce the following words in this lesson correctly. Do not say strayin for stray-inp'; prayhi for nray-in^; gushin for gush- ing; whisperin ^ov whis-per-in^; leanin for lean-in^; meanin for mean-in^; sickniss for sick-ness. 1 . Often into folly f straying. Oh, my mother ! how I’ve grieved her I Oft I’ve heard her for me praying, Till the gushing tears relieved her. ECLECTIC SERIES. 69 And she gently rose and smiled, Whispering, “God will keep my child.’' 2. She was youthful then, and sprightly, ^ndly on mj father leaning. Sweet she spoke, her eyes shone "^brightly, And her words were full of meaning; Now, an Autumn leaf decayed, I, perhaps, have made it "^fade. 3. But, whatever ills betide thee'^. Mother^, in them all I share^ ; In thy sickness watch beside thee. And beside thee kneel in prayer. Best of mothers^! on my breast Lean thy head, and sink to rest. Questions. — What does the writer say of his mother? What would he do to repay her ? LESSON IX. 9 1. In^'-tri-ca-cy; n. the state of being entangled. 2. Ap-pre-iien^-sion; n. the power of thinking and understand- ing. 3. Va^-oant-ly; adv. without thinking of or noticing. 5. As^-pen; a species of poplar, whose leaves are always in * motion. [appearance. 9. State^-li-ness; n. majestic 9. Domes; n. buildings, houses. 10. Rev^-el-ry; n. noisy, gayety, and festivity. AN END OF ALL PERFECTION. Remark. — Be careful to articulate such little words as the, of, a, in, from, at, hy, and, to, with, as, for, very distinctly; and yet not dwell on them so long as on other more important words. Articulate distinctly and pronounce correctly. Do not say for and; for of; lifs for lifts; dif^cult-y for dif-ft’-cul-ty ; liass for hasG’ heau-ti-f^l for beau-ti-ftd ; joy-f’ly,foY joy-ftd-ly; va-r^a-hle for va-ri-a-ble ; Jiels for fields ; com-jplaince for com- plaints ; en for end ; duss for dust. 1. I HAVE seen man in the glory of his days, and the pride of his strength. He was built like the tall cedar GO. NEW FIFTH READER. that lifts its head above the forest trees^ ; like the strong oak that strikes its root deeply into the earth^. He feared no danger^; he felt no siekness^; he wondered that any should groan or sigh at pain^. His mind was vigorous, like his body^", he was '^perplexed at no intri- cacy; he was daunted at no difficulty^; into hidden things he searched^; and what was crooked he made straight^. 2. He went forth fearlessly upon the face of the mighty deep; he '’'sul^^eyed the nations of the earth; he measured the distances of the stars, a^id called them by their names; he gloried in the extent of his know ledge, in the vigor of his understanding, and strove to search even into what the Almighty had concealed. And when I looked on him, I said, “What a piece of worji is man^ ! how noble in reason^ ! how infinite in Hac^lties^ ! in form and moving how express and admi rabie^ ! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a God 1’^ 3. I returned; his look was no more lofty, nor his step proud; his broken frame was like some ruined tower; his hairs were white and scattered; and his eye gazed vacantly upon what was passing around him. The "^vi^r of his intellect was wasted, and of all that he had gained by study, nothing remained. He feared when there was no danger, and when there was no sor- row he wept. His memory was decayed and treacher- ous, and showed him only broken images of the glory that was departed. 4. His house to him was like a strange land, and his friends were counted as his enemies; and he thought himself strong and healthful, while his foot tottered on the ■^vei'ge of the grave. He said of his son, “He is my brother^ ;” of his daughter^, “I know her not^;” and he inquired what was his own name. And one who supported his last steps, and ministered to his many wants, said to me, as I looked on the melancholy scene, “Let thine heart receive instruction, for thou hast seen an end of all earthly perfection.” 5. I have seen a beautiful female treading the first ECLECTIC SERIES. 61 stages of youth, and entering joyfully info the pleasures of life. The glance of her eye was ‘‘ vaRahle and sweet, and on her cheek trembled something like the first blush of the morning ; her lips mioved, and there was har- mony ; and when she '*'5 oaxed in the dance, her light form, like the aspen, seemed to move with every breeze. 1 returned, but she was not in the dance; I sought her in the gay circle of her companions, but found her not. 6. Her eye sparkled not there; the music of her voice was silent ; she rejoiced on earth no more. I saw a train, sable and slow-paced, who bore sadly to an open grave what once was animated and beautiful. They paused as they approached, and a voice broke the awful silence: ‘^Mingle ashes with ashes, and dust with its original dust. To the earth whence it was taken, +coii-' sign we the body oFour sister.” They covered her with the damp soil and the clods of the valley; and the worms crowded into her silent abode. Yet one sad mourner 'tlin^red to cast himself upon the grave ; and as he wept, he said, “ There is no beauty, nor grace, nor loveliness, that continueth in man ; for this is the end of all his glory and perfection.” 7. I have seen an infant with a fair brow, and a frame like polished "^iv^ly. Its limbs were pliant in its sports ; it rejoiced, and again it wept ; but whether its glowing cheek dimpled with smiles, or its blue eye was brilliant with tears, still I said to my heart, “ It is beau- tiful.” It was like the first pure blossom, which some cherished plant had shot forth, whose cup is filled with a dewdrop, and whose head reclines upon its parent stem. 8. I again saw this child, when the lamp of reason first dawned in its mind. Its soul was gentle and peace- ful; its eye sparkled with joy, as it looked round on this good and pleasant world. It ran swiftly in the ways of knowledge ; it bowed its ear to instruction ; it stood like a lamb before lits teachers. It was not proud, nor envious, nor '’'stubborn ; and it had never heard of the vices and '^va^iftfes of the world. And when I looked 62 NEW FIFTH READER. upon it, I remembered that our Savior had said, Ex* cept ye become as little children, ye can not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” 9. But the scene was changed, and I saw a man whom the world called honorable, and many waited for his smile. They pointed out the fields that were his, and talked of the silver and gold that he had gathe]Q^d ; the}^ admired the stateliness of his domes, and **'exl!o11ed the honor of his family. And his heart answered secret- ly, “By my wisdom have I gotten all this;” so he re- turned no thanks to God, neither did he fear nor serve him. 10. And as I passed along, I heard the complaints of the laborers who had reaped down his fields, and the cries of the poor, whose covering he had taken away; but the sound of feasting and revelry was in his apart- ments, and the unfed beggar came tottering from his door. , But he considered not, that the cries of the '**oppr^fesed were continually entering into the ears of the Most High.^And when I knew that this man was once the *^teacnable child, that I had loved, the beautiful infant that I had gazed upon with delight, I said in my bitterness, “I have seen an end of all perfection;” and I laid my mouth in the dust. Questions. — Describe the man spoken of in his glory. What change took place ? What becomes of beauty as time passes? What becomes of the docility and loveliness of childhood? What does all this teach us? Where shall we find unchangeable perfection? Explain the inflections marked, and, also, those of the 6th, 7th, and 8th paragraphs. EXERCISE VI. We constructed an arc, and began jproUem, The surf heat heavily. Arm! warriors, arm! Return to thy dwelling, all lonely return. Weave the warp, and weave the woof Send me Smithes Thucydides. Thou tear* st my heart asunder. I give my hand and heart too to this vote. The Teacher is reminded that the pupil should not neglect, before reading the sentences, to spell each difficult word by its elemcnU, uttering two or more consonants which come together as a single Bound. ECLECTIC SERIES. G3 LESSON X./^ 6- Sub^-tile; adj. tliin, delicate. 5. Crest; n. a tuft or ornament worn on the head. 6. Wi^ly; adj. cunning, sly. 7. Coun^-sel-or; n. one who gives advice. THE SPIDER AND THE FLY.— A Fable. Pronounce correctly. Do not piit-ti-est (pro. prit-ti-est) for pret-ti-est; creature nor critter, (pro. creat-yure) for creat-ure; ful-lisli for fool-ish ; ferss-ly for fierce-ly. 1. Will you walk into my '^parlor said a spider to a fly, ’T is tlie prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy. The way into my parlor is up a winding stair, And I have many pretty things to show when you are there. ‘‘ Oh no^, no'",^^ said the little fly, to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.^’ 2. Fm sure you must be weary^ with ■‘‘soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed said the spider to the fly, There are pretty curtains drawn around^, the sheets are fine and thin^, And if you like to rest awhile^, I HI snugly tuck you in^.” Oh no^, no^/' said the little fly, for I Ve often heard it said, They never ^ never wcilce again, who sleep upon your bed.’^ 3. Said the cunning spider to the fly, “ Dear friend^, what shall I do^, To prove the warm ‘‘‘affection F ve always felt for you ? I have within my pantry, good store of all that ^s nice ; I’m sure you’re very welcome; will you please to take a slice''?” “Oh no'", no^!” said the little fly^, “kind sir^, that can not be^; I ’ve lieard^ what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to see^V 4. “Sweet creature !” said the spider, “you’re witty and you’re wise^. How handsome are your ‘‘‘gauzy wings^, how ‘‘‘brilliant are your eyes^ I G4 JSTEW FIFTH READER. I have a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf, If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself." I thank^ you, gentle sir^," she said, “ for what you 're pleased to say. And bidding you good morning now^^ I'll call another day." 5. The spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly fly would soon be back again : So he wove a subtile web, in a little corner, sly, And set his table ready to dine upon the fly. Then he went out to his door again, and "^merrily did sing. Come hither*^, hither^, pretty fly^, with the pearl and silver wing : Your robes are green and purple; there's a crest upon your head ; Your eyes are like the ^diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead." 6. Alas, alas ! how very soon this silly little fly. Hearing his wily "^flattering words, came slowly flitting by. With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew. Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue; Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing ! At last, Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast^. 7. He dragged her up his winding stair, into his '^'dismal den^ Within his little parlor ; but she ne’er came out again ! And now, my dear young friends^, who may this story read. To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you, ne'er give heed ; Unto an evil counselor, close heart, and ear, and eye, And take a lesson from the tale of the Spider and the Fly. Questions. — Relate the conversation between the spider and the fly. What motive did the cunning spider finally appeal to, which induced the fly to visit it? What became of the fly? Why is the rising inflection used at “sir” in the 4th stanza? Why at “fly” in the 6th? Why at “friends” in the 7th? What are the nouns in the last line? The verb? The adjectives or articles? See Pinneo’s Primary Grammar, pp. 19 and 20. ECLECTIC SERIES. 65 EXERCISE VII. My Uncle Toby was racked with pain. Rocked loith whirlwinds Victory will weaken the enemy. Think^st thou so meanly of me? On the River Elbe, We saw the Elk. And he cried hold, hold, hold! The wolf whose howls his watch. FalFn, falVn, falVn, falVn, falVn from his high estate. There was 7io help for it. He watclVd and wept, he felt and prayed for ail. It was a wilfidly false account. LESSON XI.// 2. Im-pos^-tor; n. one who de- ceives. 2. Lan^-guished; v. suffered. 3. A-ver^-sion; n. dislike. 9. Con-ster-na^-tion; n. terror. 12. Ar-ti-fV-cial; adj, not genu- ine. 22. E-lec^-tric-al; adj. contain- ing electricity. [will. 24. Leg^-a-cy ; n. something left by DO NOT MEDDLE. Pronounce the words in this lesson correctly. Do not say benev'lunce for be-nev-o-lence ; assistiince for as-sist-ance ; impos- ter for impos-tor; pearunce for ap-pear-ance; Vlong for be-long; JiasVly for has-t/-ly; cuncealed for con-cealed; imperdunce for im-pw-dence. 1. About twenty years ago, there lived a '’‘singular gentleman in the old Hall among the Elm Trees. He was about three score years of age, very rich, and some- what odd in many of his habits, but for '’generosity and ■^benevolence he had no equal. 2. Ho poor ■’'cottager stood in need of comforts which he was not ready to supply ; no sick man or woman languished for want of his '’'assistance ; and not even a beggar, unless a known impostor, went empty handed from the Hall. The sick he ’’’soothed, the hungry fed, Bade care and sorrow fly. And loved to raise the downcast head Of friendless poverty. 3. Now it happened that the old gentleman wanted 0 l>oy to wait upon him at table, and to attend him in rvfh R.—n G6 NEW FIFTH READER. dilferent tv ays, for he was very fond of young people. But mucli as he liked the '^'society of the young, he had a great aversion to that '♦'curiosity in which many young people are apt to indulge. He used to say, ‘‘The boy who will peep into a drawer, will be tempted to take something out of it; and he who will steal a penny in his youth will steal a pound in his manhood.” 4. Ho sooner was it known that the old gentleman was in want of a boy, than twenty '♦'applications were made for the situation; but he determined not to engage any one, until he had in some way '♦'ascertained that he did not possess a curious, prying '♦'disposition. 5. On Monday morning, seven lads, dressed in their Sunday clothes, with bright and happy faces, made their appearance at the Hall, each of them desiring to obtain the situation. How the old gentleman, being of a singular disposition, had prepared a room in such a way, that he might easily know if any of the young people who applied, were given to meddle '♦’unnecessarily with things around them, or to peep into cupboards and drawers. He took care that the lads who were then at Elm Tree Hall, should be shown into this room one after another. 6. And first, Charles Brown was sent into the room, and told that he would have to wait a little. So Charles sat down on a chair near the door. Eor some time he was very quiet and looked about him ; but there seemed to be so many curious things in the room, that at last, he got up to peep at them. 7. On the table was placed a dish cover, and Charles wanted sadly to know what was under it, but he felt afraid of lifting it up. Bad habits are strong things; and as Charles v^as of a curious disposition, he could not withstand the '♦'temptation of taking one peep. So he lifted up the cover. 8. This turned out to be a sad '♦'affair ; for under the dish cover was a heap of very light feathers; part of the feathers, drawn up by a '♦'current of air, fiew about the room, and Charles, in his fright, putting down the cover hastily, puffed the rest of them off the table. ECLECTIC SERIES. 67 9. What was to be done? Charles began to pick up the feathers one by one; but the old gentleman, who was in an '‘'adjoining room, hearing a '‘‘scuffle, and guess- ing the cause of it, entered the room, to the consterna- tion of Charles Brown, who was very soon dismissed, as a boy who had not '‘'principle enough to resist even a slight temptation. 10. When the room was once more arranged, Henry Wilkins was placed there, until such time as he should be sent for. No sooner was he left to himself, than his attention was attracted by a plate of fine, ripe cherries. Now Henry was uneommonly fond of cherries, and he thought it would be impossible to miss one cherry among so many. He looked and longed, and longed and looked, for some time, and just as he had got off his seat to take one, he heard, as he thought, a foot coming to the door; but no, it was a false alarm. 11. Taking fresh courage, he went '‘'cautiously and took a very fine cherry, for he was determined to take but one, and put it into his mouth. It was excellent; and then he persuaded himself that he ran no risk in taking another; this he did, and hastily popped it into his mouth. 12. Now, the old gentleman had j)laced a few artificial cherries at the top of the others, filled with '‘'cayenne pepper; one of these Henry had unfortunately taken, and it made his mouth smart and burn most intolerably. The old gentleman heard him coughing, and knew very well what was the matter. The boy that would take what did not belong to him, if no more than a cherry, was not the boy for him. Henry Wilkins was sent about his business without delay, with his mouth almost as hot, as if he had put a burning coal into it. 13. Bufus Wilson was next introduced into the room, and left to himself; but he had not been there ten min- utes, before he began to move from one place to another. He was of a bold resolute temper, but not overburdened with principle, for if he could have opened every cup- board, closet, and drawer in the house, without being found out, ho would have done it directly. 68 JSTEW FIFTH KEADFK. 14. Having looked around the room, iie noticed a drawer to the table, and made up his mind to peep there- in. But no sooner did he lay hold of the drawer knob, than he set a large bell ringing, which was concealed under the table. The old gentleman immediately an- swered the summons, and entered the room. 15. Rufus was so startled by the sudden ringing of the bell, that all his impudence could not support him. He looked as though any one might knock him down with a feather. The old gentleman asked him if he had rung the bell because he wanted any thing. Rufus was much confused, and stammered, and tried to excuse himself, but all to no purpose, for it did not prevent him from being ordered olf the premises. 16. George Jones was then shown into the room by an old steward ; and being of a cautious disposition, he touched nothing, but only looked at the things about him. At last he saw that a closet door was a little open, and thinking it would be impossible, for any one to know that he had opened it a little more, he very cautiously opened it an inch farther, looking dowm at the bottom of ‘die door, that it might not catch against any thing, and make a noise. 17. How had he looked at the top instead of the bot- tom, it might have been better for him, for to the top of the door was fastened a plug which filled up the hole of a small barrel of shot. He ventured to open the door another inch, and then another, till the plug being pulled out of the barrel, the leaden shot began to pour out at a strange rate ; at the bottom of the closet was placed a tin pan, and the shot falling upon this pan made such a clatter, that George was frightened half out of his senses. 18. The old gentleman soon came into the room to in- quire what was the matter, and there he found George nearly as pale as a sheet. George was soon dismissed. 19. It now came the turn of Albert Jenkins to be put into the room. The other boys had been sent to their homes by different ways, and no, one knew what the ex- perience of the other had been in the room of trial. ECLECTIC SERIES. G9 20. On tho table stood a small round box, with a screw top to it, and Albert thinking it contained somethin" curious, could not be easy without unscrewing the top’ but no sooner did he do this, than out bounced an arti- ficial snake, full a yard long, and fell upon his arm. He started back, and uttered a scream, which brought tho old gentleman to his elbow. There stood Albert, with the bottom of the box in one hand, the top in the other and the snake on the floor. ^ . 21, “Come, come, said the old gentleman, o'ne snake is quite enough to have in the house at a time; therefore the sooner you are gone the better.” With that he dis- missed him, without waiting a moment for his reply. 22. William Smith next entered the room, and being left alone, soon began to amuse himself in looking at the curiosities around him. William was not only curious and prying, but dishonest too, and observing that the key was left in the drawer of a book case, he stepped on tiptoe in that direction. The key had a wire fastened to It, which communicated with an electrical machine, and William received such a shock as he was not likely to forget. Ho sooner did he sufficiently recover himself to walk, than he was told to leave the house, and let other people lock and unlock their own drawers. 23. The other boy was Harry Gordon, and though ho was left m the room full twenty minutes, he never during that time, stirred from his chair. Harry had eyes in his head as well as^ the others, but he had more integrity in his heart; neither the dish cover, the cherries the drawer knob, the closet door, the round box, nor the key, tempted him^ to rise from his seat; and the conse- quence was, that, in half an hour after, he was engaged in the service of the old gentleman at Elm Tree Hall. 24. Harry Gordon followed his good old master to his grave^, and received a large legacy for his upright con- duct^ in his service'. Head this, ye busy, meddling peeping, pilfering young people^, and imitate the ex- ample of Harry Gorc^^n^. QnEftTiONH — Explain the inflections in the last paragraph. 70 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON XII It 2. Po-LiTE^-NESS; n. good breeding. I 6. Pack ; n. a collection. 2. Perch; n. a place to roost. I 8. Curs; n, a name for dogs. THE CHICKEN COCK AND THE FOX. Pronounce correctly the following words in this lesson. Do not say politeness for po-lite-ness ; setting for szt-ting ; wenever for wAen-ev-er; ear-nes-hj for ear-nesMy; Jioiins for bounces. 1. A YOUNG chicken-cock, that was sitting upon the branch of a tree, crowed so loud, that a fox which chanced to he passing by, heard him. So he went np to him and said, “How do you do, my dear friend? I have not seen you for an age.” 2. “Thank you for your politeness, sir,” said the cock. “I am as well as usual.” “I am delighted to hear it,” said the fox. “Pray come down from that high perch, so that I may see you closer, and admire your beautiful feathers.” 3. “Ho, I am much obliged to you,” said the cock; “that will not do, for I have heard my old father say, that a fox is very fond of the flesh of a cock, and will eat him whenever he gets a chance. So, if you please, I will stay where I am.” 4. “Pshaw, "Upshaw, child,” said the sly thief; “give me leave to tell you that your sire is an old fool, and does not speak a word of truth, for I know that all the beasts and birds are now at "^peace ; therefore you need not mind that, but fly down and see me.” 5. “Is this all true?” said the cock. “I am very glad to hear it, I am sure.” And saying this, he "^stretched out hi& neck as far as he could, as if he saw something a great way off. 6. “What do you see, my dear friend, that you look out so ■’'earnestly?” said the fpx; Oh nothing at all,” said the cock, “only a pack of hj^nds, that seem to bo ECLECTIC SERIES. 71 running a race. It is a fine sight. Look, look, they are coming this way.” 7. “Dear me,” said the fox; “coming this way? Then it is high time to be gone.” “Gone!” said the cock; “why should you go? What danger can there bo to a fox in meeting hounds in time of peace?” 8. “Yes,” cried the fox, “all you say is true; but it is ten to one that these vile curs have not yet heard of the peace ; therefore I must run as fast as I can to get out of the way?” MORAL. 9. This story shows us, that when a known 'tenemy wishes to seem a friend, there is most cause for us to keep out of his reach ; and also that '^shame is likely to follow ■^■falsehood. Questions. — Relate the conversation between the chicken, and the fox. To what did the cock direct the fox’s attention, and what did the fox say and do? What is the moral of this fable? LESSON XIII. /7 2. In-ex-haust^-i-ble ; adj . un- failing. 2. Budg^-et ; n . bag, a little sack. 3. Fleet ; n . a number of ships. 3. Im-pose ; V. to deceive. 4. Chat; n . small talk. THE BARBER. Pronounce correctly. Do not say stans for stands ; villij for vil-lage ; venter for vent-wre ; yit for yet ; loUe for w^ile. 1. There stands a shrewd barber, with razor and pan Both talking and shaving as fast as he can ; No man in the ‘‘'village has got more to say. Of weather and wind, and the news of the day. 2. No sooner has gentleman taken his seat. Well covered with ‘‘‘napkin, spread over him neat, Than barber begi^^i^ot a moment to lose) With his most i ^ihtible budget of news. 72 NEW FIFTH READER. 3. “A very fine day, sir ; but yet, if I’m right. We shall "^certainly have some rain before night. And so, sir, they say the French fleet is at sea; For my part they can not impose upon me. 4. “If ever they venture at England to call. Why, I do n’t know nothing about it, that ’s all. Come Bob! is the gentleman’s wig nearly done? Why, I could do twenty, while you ’re doing one ; y ou are talking too fast to know what you are at ; I hate to see people so full of their chat! 5. “ ’T is those who say little that do their work best, No, no, sir, the fleet has not got out of Brest.” “Very well, Mr. Barber, what have I to pay?” “Only sixpence, sir; thank you, sir; wish you good day!” Questions. — What was the barber himself famous for, and for what did he reprove his workman ? LESSON XIV./^ 1. Fag^-ots; n. bundles of sticks used for fuel. 1. Prat^-tle; w. trifling talk. 1. Dis^-si-pate ; v. to scatter, to disperse. 2. Pu^-NY ; adj. small and weak. 4. PiL^-GRiM-AGE ; n. the journey of human life. 7. CoM-PLi-cA^-TiON ; n. the act of mingling together several things. 7. Sym^-pa-thies ; n. compassion. 9. Gushed ; v. flowed copiously. 9. Man^-na ; n, food miraculously provided by God for the Is- raelites. THE RIGHTEOUS, NEVER FORSAKEN. Remark. — As each one reads, let each scholar in the class mention every syllable that is pronounced wrong, and correct it. Utter the final g distinctly in the following words in this lesson : blazing, endeavoring, listening, wasting, surrounding, gathering, driving, neighboring, herring, swellings, tidings, ministering, de- fending, frowning, barking, continuing, giving, darling, springing. 1. It Saturday night, and tj^e widow of the Pine Cottage eat by her blazing fagots, with her five tattered ECLECTIC SERIES. 73 children at her side, endeavoring by listening to the ■^artlessness of their jDrattlc, to dissipate the hea^^^y gloom that pressed upon her mind. For a year, her own feeble hand had provided for her helpless family, for she had no supporter: she thought of no friend in all the wide, ■‘‘unfriendly world around. 2. But that "^mysterious Providence, the wisdom of whose ways is above human comprehension, had visited her with wasting sickness, and her little means had become ^exhausted. It was now, too, midwinter, and the snow lay heavy and deep through all the surround- ing forests, while storms still seemed gathering in the heavens, and the driving wind roared amid the neigh- boring pines, and rocked her puny mansion. 3. The last herring smoked upon the coals before her; it was the only article of food she possessed, and no wonder her forlorn, '^desolate state brought up in her lone bosom all the ‘‘‘anxieties of a mother, when she looked upon her children: and no wonder, forlorn as she was, if she suffered the heart swellings of despair to rise, even though sbe knew that He, whose promise is to the widow and to the orphan, can not forget his word. 4. ‘‘‘Providence had, many years before, taken from her her eldest son, who went from his forest home to try his fortune on the high seas, since which she had heard no tidings of liim; and, in her latter time, had, by the hand of death, deprived her of the companion and staff of her earthly pilgrimage, in the person of her husband. Yet to this hour she -had upborne; she had not only been able to provide for her little flock, but had never lost an ‘‘‘opportunity of ‘‘‘m ini storing to the wants of the miserable and destitute. 5. The ^^indolent may well bear with poverty, while the ability to gain sustenance remains. The individual who has but his own wants to supply, may suffer with fortitude the winter of want; his affections are nc^ wounded, his heart not wrung. The most desolate in ■‘‘populous cities may hope, for charity has not quite closed her hand and heart, and shut her eyes on misery. R.— 7 74 NEW FIFTH READER. 6. But the ■^'industrious mother of helpless and de- pen ding ‘■children, far from the reach of human charity, has none of these to '^'console her. And such a one was the widow of the Pine Cottage ; but as she bent over the fire, and took up the last scanty '^'remnant of food, lo spread before her children, her spirits seemed to brighten up, as by some sudden and mysterious impulse, and Cowper’s beautiful lines came uncalled across her mind : Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning Providence He hides a smiling face. 7. The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, when a gentle rap at the door, and loud barking of a dog, attracted the attention of the family. The children flew to open it, and a weary traveler, in tattered garments, and "^apparently indifferent health, entered and begged a lodging, and a mouthful of food. Said he, “It is now twenty-four hours since I tasted bread.” The widow’s heart bled anew as under a fresh complica- tion of distresses; for her sympathies lingered not around her fireside. She hesitated not even now; rest and a share of all she had she proffered to the stranger “We shall not be forsaken,” said she, “or suffer deeper for an act of charity.” 8. The traveler drew near the board, but when ho saw the scanty fare, he raised his eyes toward heaven with astonishment: “And is this all your store?” said he, “and a share of this do you offer to one you know not? then never saw I charity before! but madam,” said lie, continuing, “do you not wrong your children by giving a part of your last mouthful to a stranger?” 9. “Ah,” said the poor widow, and the teardrops gushed into her eyes as she said it, “I have a hoy^ a darling 5on, somewhere on the face of the wide world, unless heaven has taken him away, and I only act toward you, as I would that others should act toward him. God, who sent manna from heaven, can provide ECLECTIC SERIES. 75 for iis as lie did for Israel; and how should I this night offend him, if niy son should be a '‘'wanderer, '‘‘destitute as you, and he should have provided for him a home, even poor as this, "were I to turn you unrelieved away.” 10. The widow ended, and the stranger springing from his seat, clasped her in his arms: “God indeed has provided your son a home, and has given him wealth to reward the goodness of his '‘'benefactress : my mother ! oh my mother! ” It was her long lost son, returned to her bosom from the Indies. He had chosen that '‘'dis- guise that he might the more completely surprise his family ; and never was surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup of joy. 11. That humble '‘'residence in the forest was ex- changed for one comfortable, and indeed beautiful, in the valley; and the widow lived long with her dutiful son, in the enjoyment of worldly plenty, and in the delightful employments of virtue : and, at this day, the ass --by is pointed to the willow that spreads its branches above her grave. Questions. — Relate the history of the widow and her son. Can evil ever come from being benevolent? Are there many in this world really so poor as not to be able to do something for others? LESSON XV. rr 1. Mar^-vel-ous ; adj, wonderful. 2. Or-dained^; v. appointed, es- tablished. 2. Do-minMon; w. supreme power. 5. Ha^-ven ; n. a harbor, a place where ships can lie in safety. SELECT PARAQRAPHS^ Remark. — Be careful to read the last words of every sentence in as full and loud a tone as the first part. Articulate distinctly the Ji in the following words in this les- son: his, holy, heart, hath, heaven, heartily, holiness, haven, head, house. 1. O GIVE thunks unto the Lord; call upon his name; make known his deeds among the people. Sing 76 NEW FIFTH READER. unto him; sing psalms unto him; talk ye of all his wondrous works. Glory ye in his holy name; let the heart of them rejoice that seek the Lord. Eemember his marvelous works that he hath done ; his ^wonders, and the ‘‘‘judgments of his mouth. 2. O Lord, our Lord, how ‘‘‘excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens. 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? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honor. Thou madest him to have dominion over the work of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet. O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth ! 3. will say of the Lord, he is my refuge and my fortress, my God; in him will 1 trust.” — “Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I ‘‘‘deliver him : I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him ; I will be with him in trouble ; I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him, and show him my ‘‘‘salvation.” 4. O come, let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily rejoice in the strength of our salvation. Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving, and show our- selves glad in him with psalms. For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods. O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness ; let the whole earth stand in awe of him. For he cometh, for he cometh, to judge the earth; and with righteousness to judge the world, and the people with his truth. 5. O that men would praise the Lord for his good- ness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men ! They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he command- eth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the ECLECTIC SERIES. 77 waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven; they go down again to the depths; their soul is melted because of trouble; they reel to and fro, and '^stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit’s end. Then they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their ‘^distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they are quiet ; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven. O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works to the children of men ! 6. The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. Ho maketh me to lie down in green pastures : he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the ■^shadow of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they ‘^comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou anointest my head with oil; my cup run- neth over. Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life ; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Questions. — What does God promise to one who makes Him his refuge? What is meant by “setting him on high?’’ Is the promise of “satisfying" him with long life,” fulfilled in this world? Who are described in the 5th paragraph? Which are the nouns in the last sentence? The verbs? The pro- nouns? The adjectives? What is “the”? See Pinneo’s Primary Grammar, page 19. EXERCISE VIII. We ^ 0 . 1 ^ large, dead JisTi fioating. And he slew him. Every man^s house is his castle. This meteorous vapor is called, “ Will o^the wispJ^ I thrust three thousand thistles through the thich of my thumb. Braid broad braids, my brave babes. We never swerved, but lost our swivel gun. Crazy Craycroft caught a crate of crinckled crabs. Where is the crate of crinclded crabs that crazy Craycroft caught? 78 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON XVI. 1. Fa-mil^-iar; adj. well ac- quainted with. 1. Gar^-ner; V. to lay up in store. 2. Sum^-moxed; v. called to- gether. 2. Be-quest^; n. something left ^ by will. 2. SuF-ro-cA^-TiON ; n. choking, stifling of the breath. 4. Va-'-cant; adj. empty. 6. Ver^-dant; ac??. green, fresh. 9. Freight-'-ed ; v. loaded. 9. Sa^-vor-y ; adj. pleasing to the smell. 9. Dis^-cord ; n. grating sounds. THE DYING BOY. Pronounce correctly. Do not say cliileliood for chiy-hood; infan for in-fan^ ; heqiies for be-ques^. 1. It must be sweet, in childhood, to give back The spirit to its Maker ; ere the heart Has grown familiar with the paths of sin. And sown, to garner up its bitter fruits. I knew a boy whose infant feet had trod Upon the ^blossoms of some seven springs. And when the eighth came round, and called him out To revel in its light, he turned away, And sought his chamber, to lie down and die. 2. ’Twas night; he summoned his accustomed friends. And on this wise “^bestowed his last bequest. ‘^Mother, I ’m dying now! There ’s a deep suffocation in my breast. As if some heavy hand my bosom pressed : And on my brow, I feel the cold sweat stand; My lips grow dry and '^tremulous, and my breath Comes feebly on. Oh 1 tell me, is this death ! 3. “Mother, your hand. Here, lay it on my wrist. And place the other thus beneath my head. And say, sweet mother, say, when I am dead, ECLECTIC SERIES. 79 Shall I be missed? Never beside your knee, Shall I kneel down again at night to pray; Nor with the morning wake, and sing the lay You taught me? i ^‘Oh, at the time of prayer. When you look round, and see a vacant seat. You will not wait then for my coming feet ; You ’ll miss me there. Father, I am going home ! To the good home you spoke of, that blest land, Where it is one bright summer always, and Storms do never come. 5. “I must be happy then From pain and death you say I shall be free, That sickness never enters there, and we Shall meet again. Brother, the little spot I used to call my garden, where long hours We Ve stayed to watch the budding things and howers, Forget it not 1 6. “Plant there some box or pine. Something that lives in winter, and will be A verdant offering to my '^'memory. And call it mine! 7 “ Sister, my young rose tree. That all the spring has been my pleasant care. Just putting forth its leaves so green and fair, I give to thee ; And when its roses bloom, 1 shall be far away, my short life done; But wall you not bestow a single one Upon my tomb? 8 “Now, mother, sing the tune You sang last night. I ’m weary, and must sleep, Who was it called my name? Nay, do not weep. You ’ll all come soon?” 80 NEW FIFTH READER. 9. Morning spread over earth her rosy wings, And that meek '^'sufferer, cold and ivory pale, Lay on his ***couch asleep. The gentle air Came through the open window, freighted with The savory odors of the early spring ; He breathed it not ; the laugh of passers-by Jarred like a discord in some mournful tune. But wakened not his slumber. He was dead. Questions. — What is the subject of this piece? What is said of childhood? What did the little boy exclaim as he addressed liis mother? What did he say to his father? What, to his brother? What, to his sister ? What was his last request of his mother ? What reason did he give, why they should not weep ? What is it that will enable us to triumph over death ? LESSON XVII. /7 1. An^-nals; n. a species of his- tory, 1. El^-o-quence; w. the power of speaking well. 4. Can^-o-py ; n. a covering over head. 6. As-si-du^'-i-ty; n. close appli- cation, diligence. 5. Gr AN^-A-RiES ; ?>?^orn-house8. 6. Pro-pens^-i-ties ; n. bent of mind, inclination. 7. Lav-'-ish; adj. profuse, waste- ful. ' 10. Su-PER-FLu^-i-TiES ; n. some- thing beyond what is wanted. 10. Suc^-cor; n. help, aid. THE GENEROUS RUSSIAN PEASANT. Remark. — If you meet with difficult words or foreign names, do not hasten over them, but read them distinctly. Articulate clearly. Do not say ceVdrate for cel-e-brate; jlat-Vry for flat-ter-y; missies for mis-er-ies; pon-dWin for pon-dcr-inp'; genWal for gen-er-al; c^lamHy for ca-lam-i-ty ; granaries for gran-a-ries. 1. Let Yirgil sing the praises of Augustus, genius celebrate merit, and '^flattery extol the talents of the great. The short and simple “annals of the poor” en- gross my pen ; and while I record the history of Flor Silin’s virtues, though I speak of a poor peasant, 1 sliall ECLECTIC SERIES. 81 describe a noble man. 1 ask no eloquence to assist me in the task; modest worth rejects the aid of ‘^ornament to set it off. 2. It is impossible, even at this distant period, to- re- flect, without horror, on the miseries of that year, known in Lower Wolga by the name of the famine year'' I remember the summer, whose scorching heats had dried up all the fields, and the drought had no relief but from the tears of the ruined farmer. 3. I remember the cold, comfortless autumn, and the despairing trusties, crowding round their empty farms with folded arms, and sorrowful countenances, tponder- ing on their misery, instead of rejoicing, as usual, at the golden harvest. I remember the winter which suc- ceeded, and I reflect, with tagony, on the miseries it brought with it. Whole families left their homes, to become beggars on the highway. 4. At night, the canojiy of heaven served them as their only shelter from the piercing winds and bitter frost. To describe these scenes, would be to harm the feelings of my readers ; therefore to my tale. In those days I lived on an estate not far from vSimbirsk ; and though but a child, I have not forgotten the impression made on my mind by the general +calamity. 5. In a village adjoining, lived Llor Silin, a poor, laboring peasant : a man remarkable for his assiduity, and the skill and judgment with which he cultivated his lands. He was blessed with “^abundant crops; and his means being larger than his wants, his granaries, even at this time, were full of corn. The dry year coming on, had beggared all the village, except himself. Here was an opportunity to grow rich. Mark how Flor Silin acted. Having called the poorest of his neighbors about him, he addressed them in the following man- ner. G. “My friends, you want corn for your subsistence. God has blessed me with abundance. Assist in thrashing out a quantity, and each of you take what he wants for his family.” The peasants were amazed at this uncx- 82 NEW FIFTH READER. ampled generosity ; for sordid pro]3ensities exist in the village, as well as in the *^'poj)ulous city. 7. The fame of Flor Silin’s benevolence having reached other villages, the famished inhabitants pre- sented themselves before him, and begged for corn. This good creature received them as brothers ; and, while his store remained, afforded all relief. At length, his wife, seeing no end to the '^'generosity of his noble spirit, reminded him how necessary it would be to think of their own wants, and hold his lavish hand, before it was too late. “It is written in the Scripture,” said he, “Give, and it shall be given unto you.” 8. The following year. Providence listened to the prayers of the poor, and the harvest was abundant. The peasants who had been saved from starving by Flor Silin, now gathered around him. 9. “Behold,” said they, “the corn you lent us. You saved our wives and children. We should have been ■^famished but for you; may God reward you; he only can; all we have to give, is our corn and grateful thanks.” “I want no corn at present, my good neigh- bors,” said he; “my harvest has exceeded all my expect- ations ; for the rest, thank Heaven : I have been but an humble '^'instrument.” 10. They urged him in vain. “Ho,” said he, “1 shall not accept your corn. If you have superfluities, share them among your poor neighbors, who, being unable to sow their fields last autumn, are still in want ; let us assist them, my dear friends; the Almighty will bless us for it.” “Yes,” replied the grateful '^peasants, “our poor neighbors shall have this corn. They shall know it is to you that they owe this timely succor, and join to teach their children the debt of gratitude, due to your '^benevolent heart.” Silin raised his tearful eyes to heaven. An angel might have envied him his feelings. Questions. — What was the famine spoken of in this lesson occa- sioned by? Who was Flor Silin, and what did he do for his poor neighbors? What did he say when a reward was ottered him? What should we learn by this example? ECLECTIC SEKIES. 83 LESSON XVIII. 1 . CoN-TEN^-TiONs; u, angry con- tests, quarrels. 2 De-mo^-ni-ac; n. one possessed by a devil. 4. Gen-er-a^-tion; n. a race, the people of the same period. 4. De-bauch^ed; adj. corrupted in morals. 5. Ten^-e-ments; n. houses. D. In-her^-it-ance ; n, an estate received from parents. 6. Des-o-la^-tion ; n. ruin, de- struction. 8. /Con-so-la^-tion; n. comfort. 8. Phi-lan^-thro-pist; n. one •who loves his fellow-men. 11. Ben-e-dic^-tion ; n. blessing. 12. Pen-i-ten^-tia-ry ; n. a house where criminals are confined to labor. 12. De-gen^-er-a-cy; n. the state of growing worse. TOUCH NOT— TASTE NOT— HANDLE NOT. Remark. — W hen there are poetical quotations in prose pieces, they should be read as if they were part of the same line, unless the sense requires a pause. Pronounce correctly. Do not say com-par-er-tive-lyy for com par-a-tive-ly ; fre-hwunt, for fre-quent; tem-per-it-ly^ for tem-per- ateAy\ scurce.dy, for scarce-ly; iit-ier-uncej for ut-ter-ance. 1. “Wine is a mocker, and strong drink is raging. Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath conten- tions? who hath babbling? who hath wounds without a cause? who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine.” 2. How often do men meet in good humor, then drink to excess, talk nonsense, fancy themselves insulted, take fire within, frave, threaten, and then come to blows? A long time ago, Seneca spoke of those who “let in a thief at the mouth to steal away the brains. ” In such a case, tlie stupidity of a brute is often united with the fury of a demoniac. Hay, the man among the tombs was 'tcom- paratively harmless,* he only injured himself. But how often does the drunken revel end in the cry of murder I 3. How often does the hand of the intoxicated man, lifted against his dearest friend, perhaps the wife of his bosom, 84 NEW FIFTH READER. In one rash hour, Perform a deed that haunts him to the grave 4. Could 1 call around me, in one vast assembly, the }'Oung men of this nation, I would say : Hopes of my country, blessed be ye of the Lord, now in the dew of your youth. But look well to your footsteps ; for 4vi* l^ers, and scorj^ions, and adders surround your way. Look at the generation who have just 4preceded you. The morning of their life was cloudless, and it dawned as brightly as your own. But behold, now, the smit- ten, enfeebled, inflamed, debauched, idle, poor, irreli- gious, and -tvicious, with halting step, dragging onward to meet an early grave. 5. Their bright prospects are clouded, and their sun is set, never to rise. Ho house of their own receives them, while from poorer to poorer tenements they de- scend, as improvidence dries up their resources. And, now, who are those that wait on their footsteps, with muffled faces and -tsable garments? That is a father, and that is a mother, whose gray hairs are coming with sorrow to the grave. That is a sister, weeping over evils which she can not arrest; and there is the broken- hearted wife; and these are the children — helpless in- nocents ! — for whom their father has provided no inheritance, save one of dishonor, and nakedness, and woe! 6. And is this^ beloved youth, the history of your course? In this scene of desolation, do you see the image of your future selves? Is this the poverty, and tlie disease, which, as an armed man, shall take hold on youl and are your relatives and friends to succeed those who now move on, in this mournful ^procession, weeping as they go? 7. Yes, bright as your morning now opens, and high as your hopes beat, this is your noon and your night, unless you shun those habits of intemperance which have thus early made theirs a day of clouds and of thick darkness. If you frequent places of evening re- sort for ^social drinking; if you set out with drinking, i^JCLECTIC SERIES. 85 daily, a little, prudently, i temperately ; it is yourselves^ which, as in a glass, you behold. 8. “One of the greatest consolations afforded to my mind by the success of the temperance cause, is the re- flection that my child will not be a drunkard.” Such ^ was the language of a distinguished philanthropist, as he held a listening assembly chained by the voice of his ■^eloquence. 9. Tc 'his remark the heart of every parent f assents ; for that the progress of the temperance cause will be so great, at the period when the child, which is now an infant, shall come upon the theater of life, as to render all use of ardent spirit, as a drink, ^disreputable, can scarcely be questioned. 10. If any father or mother could lift the vail of futu- rity, and read on the page of coming years, that the son now so loved, so idolized, perhaps, would become a bloated, polluted, and polluting creature, reeling under the *^‘influence of ardent spirit, the remainder of life would be wretched. To such a parent, this world would, indeed, be a vale of tears; and the silence and ^solitude of the tomb, would be welcomed as the place where tlie weary might be at rest. 11. The temperance ireform does in fact lift the vail of years, and disclose to the parents of the present gener- ation, their children and children’s children freed from all the woes and curses of drunkenness, the smile of gratitude upon their countenance, and the language of benediction upon their lips. 12. “My child will not be a drunkard!” Cheering thought! How it swells the heart with emotions too big for utterance! What an -^animating prospect does it open to the mind! Alms-houses, and jails, and penitentiaries and State-prisons will then stand only as so many mon- uments of the vices of an age gone by; and the evils consequent upon the use of ardent spirits shall exist only upon the historian’s page, as so many -^records of for- mer degeneracy and the errors of mankind. QtrirsTTONs. — Wbn,t is a certain security against intemperance? 86 N K W F I F TII READER. LESSON XIX. 1. Fes''-tal; mirthful, joyous. 1. Gar^-land-ed ; v. adorned with wreaths of flowers. 3 De-vo^-ted; adj. solemnly set apart. 4. Ei^rHANCE^; V. increase. 6. Sun^-dered; v, separated. 7. Ma^-ni-ac; a. raving with mad- ness. ». Glim^-mer-ings; n. faint view. 8. Ro^'-se-ate; adj. blooming, rosy. 11. Fel^-on; n. a public criminal. 12. En-ti^-cing; «f//. attracting to evil. 12. Spurned; v. rejected with disdain. 13. Lure; v. to attract, to entice. 14. En-ciiant^-ed ; a. affected with enchantment, bewitched. THE FESTAL BOARD. Articulate distinctly the r in the following words found in thi? .esson: bright, there, coral, garlanded, hair, for, ring, silvery, pure, art, friendship, are, round, rises, merriest. 1. Come to the festal board to-night, For bright-eyed beauty will be there, Her +coral lips in nectar steeped. And garlanded her hair. 2. Come to the festal board to-night. For there the joyous laugh of youth Will ring those *^silvery peals, which speak Of bosoms pure and stainless truth. B. Come to the festal board to-night, For friendship, there, with stronger chain, Devoted hearts already bound For good or ill, will bind again. I went. 4. Nature and art their stores '^outpoured ; Joy beamed in every kindling glance; Love, friendship, youth, and beauty, smiled ; What could that evening’s bliss enhance? We parted. 5 And years have flown; but where are now The guests, who round that table met? ECLECTIC SERIES. 87 Kises their sun as gloriously As on the '^banquet’s eve it set? C. How holds the chain which friendship wove? It broke; and, soon, the hearts it bound Were Avidely sundered; and for peace. Envy, and "^strife, and blood, were found 7. The merriest laugh which then Avas heard Has changed its tones to maniac screams^ xls half-quenched memory kindles up Glimmerings of guilt in ^feverish dreams. 8. And Avhere is she, whose diamond eyes Golconda’s ^mrest gems outshone? Whose roseate lips of Eden breathed? Say, where is she, the '^'beauteous one? 9. Beneath yon AvilloAv’s drooping shade. With eyes noAV dim, and lijDS all pale, She sleeps in peace. Bead on her urn, “A hroken hearth This tells her tale. 10. And AAdiere is he, that toAAmr of strength. Whose fate with hers, for life was joined ? How beats liis heart, once honor’s throne? Hoav high has '’'soared his daring mind? 11. Go to the dungeon’s gloom to-night: His Avasted form, his aching head. And all that noAV remains of him^ Lies, '’’shuddering, on a felon’s bed. 12. Ask you of all these Avoes the cause? The festal board, the enticing bowl, More often came, and reason fled. And maddened passions spurned '’’control. 13 Learn Avisdom, then. The frequent feast Avoid; for there, with stealthy tread Temptation walks, to lure you on. Till death, at last, the banquet spread. 88 NEW FIFTH READER. 14. And shun, oh, shim, the enchanted mjyl Though, now, its '’'draught like joy appears. Ere long it will he fanned by sighs. And sadly mixed with blood and tears. Questions. — What is the subject of this piece? What is meant by the “Festal Board? What dangers lurk around it? EXERCISE IX. The range of the valleys is his. He was the first embassador sent Swords and pens are both employed. I do not flinch from argument. He never winced, for it hurt him not. Do not singe your gown. Pluck’d from its native tree. Nipt in the bud. Thoi: found’ st me poor, and keep’st me so. LESSON XX. IS' 2. Dis-tinc''-tion ; n, a point of dilference. 2. W"ig''-wam; n. an Indian hut. 3. Bur^-rows; n. holes in the earth where animals lodge. 4. Drs-cus^-siON ; n. arguing a point. 4. Com-mu^-ni-ty; n. a society, or collection of individuals. 4. Arch^-i-tects; n. those who understand building. 6. Me-dtc-'-tn-al ; adj. heal- ing. 8. Rec^-ti-fi-ed ; v. corrected. MAN AND THE INFERIOR ANIMALS. Remark. — Recollect, always, that you have it in your power to become a good reader, by attention, study, and practice. Articulate distinctly. Do not say diff’rence, for dif-fer-ence ; in-struc, for in-struci5; pro-vi-d’n, for pro-vid-m^; ir-reg’lar, for' ir-reg- 2 t-lar ; fac’l-ty, for fac-wl-ty. 1. The chief ’’'difference between man and the other animals consists in this, that the former has reason, whereas the latter have only instinct; but, in order to Linderstand what we mean by the terms reason and in- stinct, it will be ■’'necessary to mention three things, in which the difference very ’’'distinctly^ appears. * 2. Let us, to bring the parties as nearly on a level as possible, consider man in a sayage state, wholly ECLECTIC SERIES. 89 ■*'occui)ied, like the beasts of the field, in providing for the wants of his animal nature; and here, the first dis- tinction that appears between them is, the use of imple- merits. When the savage ’’'provides himself with a hut, or a wigwam, for shelter, or that he may store up his provisions, he does no more than is done by the rabbit, the beaver, the bee, and birds of every species. 3. But the man can not make any ’’’progress in this work without tools ; he must provide himself with an ax, even before he can cut down a tree for its timber ; whereas these animals form their burrows, their cells, or their nests, with no other tools than those with which nature has provided them. In ’’’cultivating the ground, also, man can do nothing without a spade or a plow ; nor can he reap what he has sown, till he has shaped an ’’’implement with which to cut down his harvest. But the inferior animals provide for themselves and their young without any of these things. 4. Now for the second distinction. Man, in all his ’’’operations, makes mistakes; animals make none. Did you ever hear of such a thing as a bird sitting on a twig, lamenting over her half-finished nest, and puzzling her little head to know how to complete it ? Or did you ever see the cells of a bee-hive in clumsy, irregular shapes, or observe any thing like a discussion in the little com- munity, as if there was a difference of opinion among the architects? 5. The lower animals are even better ’’’physicians than we are; for when they are ill, they will, many of them, seek out some particular herb which they do not use as food, and which possesses a medicinal quality exactly suited to the complaint; whereas, the whole college of physicians will dispute for a ’’’century about the virtues of a single drug. 6. Man undertakes nothing in which he is not more or less puzzled ; and must try numberless ’’’experiments, before he can bring his undertakings to any thing like perfection; even the simplest operations of ’’’domestic life are not well performed without some ■’’ex})erience; 90 NEW FIFTH READER. and the term of man’s life is half wasted before he has done with his mistakes and begins to profit by his lessons. 7. The third distinction is, that animals make no '^im 2 ')rovements ; while the knowledge, and skill, and the success of man are perpetually on the increase. Ani- mals, in all their operations, follow the first impulse of nature, or that instinct which God has implanted in them. In all they do undertake, therefore, their works are more perfect and regular than those of man. 8. But man, having been endowed with the '^faculty of thinking or reasoning about what he does, is enabled, by patience and industry, to correct the mistakes into which he at first falls, and to go on constantly improv- ing. A bird’s nest is, indeed, a perfect '♦'structure; yet’ the nest of a swallow of the nineteenth century, is not at all more '♦’commodious or elegant, than those that were built amid the rafters of I^oah’s ark. But if we compare the wigwam of the savage with the temples and '♦’palaces of ancient Greece and Eome, we then shall see to what man’s mistakes, rectified and improved upon, conduct him. 9. When the vast sun shall vail his golden light Deep in the gloom of everlasting night; When wild, destructive, flames shall wrap the skies When ruin triumphs, and when nature dies ; Man shall alone the wreck of worlds survive; ’Mid falling spheres, immortal man shall live. Questions. — ^What is the subject of this lesson? What three things form the distinction between man and animals ? What is instinct ? What is the difference between instinct and reason ? Is man an animal ? Is man superior to all other animals ? In what does the superiority consist ? What does this enable man to do ? What is the first verb in the last sentence ? In what mode, tense, number, and person is it? What is the first pronoun? What is the first noun? In what number and case is it? How is it parsed? (See Pinneo’s Analytical Grammar, page 187, Rule VIII). ECLECTIC SERIES. 91 ' LESSON XXI. i Un-oc'^-cu-pied ; adj. not em- ployed or taken up. [failing. 4. In-ex-iiaust^-i-ble ; adj. un- 5. CoN-siD-ER-A^-TiON ; Ti. serious thought, reflection. 0. Pre-serv^-a-tive; w. that which keeps from injury. G. Re-spons-i-bil^-i~ty ; n. the state of being liable to answer or account for. 7. CuL-Ti-VA^-TiON ; n. improve- ment by study. 8. CoN^-GRESS ; n. the legislature of the United States. 8. Matii-e-ma-ti^-cians ; n. those versed in mathematics. 9. Scep^-ter; n. the emblem of kingly power. 12. E-lec^-tion ; n. a choosing. 15. Pro-gres^-sion ; n. a moving forward. 15. Ap-prox-i-ma^-tion ; n. a near approach. 15. In-duce^-ment ; n. motive. VALUE OF TIME AND KNOWLEDGE. Pronounce correctly. Do not say vdl-ew for val-?^e ; prod-i-gul for prod-i-gal ; oc-ky-py-ing for oc-cw-py-ihg ; geth-er for gath-er ; as-tron-i-muz for as-tron-o-mers. Sound the unaccented a properly in words like attention, pleasant^ importance, mental, capable, &c. 1. Let me call your attention to the ^importance of improving your time. The infinite value of time is not ‘^'realized. It is the most precious thing in all the world; “the only thing of which it is a virtue to be covetous, and yet the only thing of which all men are ^prodigal.” 2. In the first place, then, reading is a most interest- ing and pleasant method of '^occujiying your leisure hours. All young people have, or may have, time enough to read. The difficulty is, they are not careful to improve it. 3. Their hours of ‘’‘leisure are either idled away, or talked away, or spent fin some other way equally vain and useless; and then they complain, that they have no time for the cultivation of their minds and hearts. 4. Time is so ‘’‘precious, that there is never but one moment in the world at once, and that is always taken away, before another is given. Only take care to gather up the ‘’‘fragments of time, and you will never want 92 NEW FIFTH READER. leisure for the reading of useful books. And in whal way can you spend your unoccupied hours more pleas- antly, than in holding *^converse with the wise and the good, through the '^medium of their writings? To a mind not altogether devoid of '^curiosity, books form an inexhaustible source of enjoyment. 5. It is a consideration of no small weight, that read- ing furnishes material for interesting and useful conver- sation. Those who are ignorant of books, must of course have their thoughts confined to very narrow limits. What occurs in their immediate neighborhood, the state of the market, the idle report, the tale of scandal, the foolish story, these make up the circle of their knowl- edge, and furnish the topics of their conversation. They have nothing to say of importance, because they know nothing of importance. 6. A taste for useful reading is an ‘^effectual preserv- ative from vice. Next to the fear of God, implanted in the heart, nothing is a better safeguard to character, than the love of good books. They are the handmaids of virtue and religion. They quicken our sense of duty, unfold our responsibilities, strengthen our ^principles, confirm our habits, inspire in us the love of what is right and useful, and teach us to look with disgust upon what is low, and groveling, and ^vicious. 7. The high value of '^mental cultivation, is another weighty motive for giving attendance to reading. What is it that mainly distinguishes a man from a brute? Knowledge. What makes the vast difference there is, between savage and civilized nations? Knowledge. What forms the '^principal difference between men, as they appear in the same society? Knowledge. 8. What raised Franklin from the humble station of a printer’s boy, to the first honors of his country? Knowledge. What took Sherman from his shoemaker’s bench, gave him a seat in Congress, and there made his voice to be heard among the wisest and best of his com- peers? Knowledge. What raised vSimpson from 11ic weaver’s ‘♦'loom, to a place among tlio first of inatheimiti-' ECLECTIC SERIES. 93 cians; and llerschcl, from being a poor lifer’s boy in the army, to a station among the first of astronomers? Knowledge. 9. Knowledge is jDOwer. It is the philosopher’s stone, the true secret, that turns every thing it touches into gold. It is the scepter, that gives us our '^'dominion over nature; the key, that unlocks the storehouse of creation, and opens to us the treasures of the "^universe. 10. The circumstances in' which you are placed, as the members of a free and '^'intelligent '^community, demand of you a careful improvement of the means of knowledge you enjoy. You live in an age of great mental excite- ment. The public mind is awake, and society in general is fast rising in the scale of improvement. At the same time, the means of knowledge are most '^'abundant. 11. The road to wealth, to honor, to 'tusefulness, and happiness is open to all, and all who will, may enter upon it with the almost certain '^prospect of success. In this free community, there are no '^privileged orders Every man finds his level. If he has talents, he will be known and estiniated, and rise in the respect and '^con- fidence of society. 12. Added to this, every man is here a freeman. He has a voice in the election of rulers, in making and exe- cuting the laws, and 'may be called to fill importaixl places of honor and trust, in the community of which he is a member. What then is the duty of persons in these '^circumstances? Are they not called to cultivate their minds, to improve their talents, and to acquire the knowledge which is necessary to '‘'enable them to act with honor and usefulness, the part '‘'assigned them on the stage of life? 13. A diligent use of the means of knowledge, accords well with your nature as rational and immortal beings. God has given you minds which are capable of '‘'indefi- nite improvement; he has placed you in circumstances ^peculiarly favorable for making such improvement; and, to inspire you with diligence in mounting up the Khining course before you, he points you to the ])ros])e{;1 of an endless ■‘'oxisteiice beyond the grave. 94 NEW FIFTH READER. 14. If you, wlio possess these powers, were destined, after spending a few days on earth, to fall into non- existence; if there were nothing in you which death can not destroy, nor the grave cover, there would indeed be but little inducement to cultivate your minds. “For who would take pains to trim a taper which shines but for a moment, and can never be lighted again?” 15. But if you have minds which are capable of end- less progression in knowledge, of endless approximation to the supreme intelligence; if, in the midst of '^unre- mitting success, objects of new interest will be forever opening before you; oh, what prospects are presented to the view of man ! what strong inducements to '**culti- vate his mind and heart, and to enter upon that course of improvement here, which is to run on, brightening in glory and in bliss, ages without end ! Questions. — What is the subject of this lesson? What is plea- sant method of occupying our leisure hours ? For what does reading furnish materials ? From what does it preserve us ? If a man has knowledge, what may he hope for ? What peculiar reasons are there why American children should cultivate their minds ? In the last sentence, what interjection is there? What is an inter- jection? What does the word mean? Will you name four interjec- tions? Why are they so called? See Pinneo’s Analytical Gram- mar, page 20, Art. 55. In Grammatical Questions reference will hereafter be made to Pinneo’s Analytical Grammar. Such questions will be found very profitable and interesting to the pupil. They will be to some de- gree of an analytical character, as this not only increases the interest of the study, but gives a more comprehensive and philosophical view of the structure of sentences. EXERCISE X. Many arks were seen. They harked and liowVd. The cidprit was liurVd from the rock. Words, words, words, my lord. Are the goods wharf df It was strongly iirg^d upon him. Remark^ d*st thou that? lie snarls, but darei* not bite. Arin^d, say ye? Yes, arm^d, my lord ECLECTIC SERIES. 95 LESSON XXII. w 1 Skep^-tics; n. persons who doubt or disbelieve religious truth. 2 De-base^-ment ; n. the being sunk or degraded. 2. Un-per-vert^-ed ; adj, not turned to a wrong use. 2. AVrithe; v. to be in torture. 3. Un-sul^-li-ed; adj. not stain- ed. 3. Wells; v. issues forth as water does from the ground. 3. Lave; v. wash, bathe. 3. Dis-solv^-ing; adj. melting. CONSOLATION OF RELIGION TO THE POOR. Remark. — This lesson requires great care, and must be read in a natural, but solemn manner. Pronounce correctly. Do not saj wid-der for wid-oz^; voUum for vol-ztme ; jpal-it for pal-ate ; pil-ler for pil-lozr. 1. There is a mourner, and her heart is broken; She is a widow; she is old and poor; Her only hope is in the sacred token Of +peaceful happiness Avhen life is o’er; ' She asks not wealth nor pleasure, begs no more Than Heaven’s '^delightful volume, and the sight Of her Kedeemer. Skeptics! would you pour Your blasting -i-yials on her head, and blight Sharon’s sweet rose, that blooms and charms her being’s night? 2. She lives in her ‘^'affections ; foP the grave Has closed upon her husband, children; all Her hopes are with the arms she trusts Avill save Her ^treasured jewels; though her views are small, Though she has never mounted high to fall And writhe in her debasement, yet the spring Of her meek, tender feelings, can not pall Upon her unperverted ‘‘‘palate, but will bring A joy without regret, a bliss that has no sting. j 3. Even as a fountain, whose unsullied wave 1 Wells in the pathless valley, flowing o’er I With silent waters, kissing, as they lave 96 NEW FIFTH READER. The pebbles with light trippling, and the shore Of tmatted grass and flowers ; so softly pour The breathings of her bosom, when she prays, Low-bowed, before her Maker ; then, no more She muses on the griefs of former days: Her full heart melts and flows in Heaven’s dissolving rays. 4. And faith can see a new world, and the eyes Of saints look pity on her. Death will come: A few short moments over, and the '*'prize Of peace eternal waits her, and the tomb Decomes her fondest pillow : all its gloom Is scattered. What a meeting there will be To her and all she loved while here ! and the bloom Of new life from those cheeks shall never flee. There is the health which lasts through all -^-eternity. Questions. — Should there he a pause at the end of every line in poetry? Should the voice rise or fall at the word “night,’^ at the end of the first stanza? LESSON XXIII. 4. Glen; n. a valley. 7. A^-re-a; n. any open surface, or space. 8. Ap-pend^-a-ges; n, things ad- ded to a greater or principal thing. SCENE AT THE SANDWICH ISLANDS. Remark.— L et all the pupils notice, as each member of the class reads, where a proper pause is not made at the commas and other points. Articulate distinctly. Do not say gath-er-in for gath-er-in// , for ir-reg-M-lar; difculty iov naVZ for na-val ; in-fer’or for in-fe-n-or ; primHive for prim-t-tive ; tn- vis’ble for in-vi-si-ble ; u-ni-vers’ly for u-ni-vers-al-ly. 1. At an early hour of the morning, even before we had taken our breakfast on board the ship, a single 1. Ka-vine'; n. (pro. ra-veew ) a long deep hollow in the earth, worn by a stream of water. 2. Quar^-ter-deck; n. that part of a ship’s deck which lies toward the stern. ECLECTIC SERIES. 97 ^islander here or there, or a group of three or four, wrapped in their largo mantles of various hues might bo seen winding their way among the groves fringing the bay on the east, or descending from the hills and ravine on the north, toward the chapel; and by degrees their numbers increased, till, in a short time, every path along the beach, and over the uplands, presented an almost t uninterrupted procession of both sexes and of every age, all pressing to the house of God. 2. So few '^canoes were round the ship yesterday, and the landing place had been so little Hhronged, as our boats passed to and fro, that one might have thought the '^district but thinly inhabited ; but now, such multi- tudes were seen gathering from various tdirections, that the exclamation, “ What crowds of people I What crowds of people W was heard from the quarter-deck to the fore- castle. 3. Even to myself it was a sight of surprise ; surprise not at the magnitude of the population, but that the ob- ject for which they were evidently ^assembling, should bring together so great a multitude. And as my thoughts •rre-echoed the words, “What crowds of people!” '^re- membrances and -i-aftections of deep power came over me; and the silent '*'musings of my own heart were, “What a change! What a happy change!” 4. When at this very place, only four years ago, the . known wishes and example of chiefs of high authority, the daily ‘^'persuasion of teachers, added to motives of ■^curiosity and novelty, could scarcely induce a hundred of the ■^‘inhabitants, to give an irregular, careless, and ‘^impatient ‘^'attendance on the services of the sanctuary. But now, “ Like mountain ‘^torrents pouring to the main, From every glen a living stream came forth ; From every hill, in crowds, they hastened down. To worship Him, who deigns, in humblest fane, On wildest shore, to meet th’ upright in heart.” 5. The scene, as looked on from our ship in the still- ness of a brightly-bonTning Rabbath morning, was well ruL R ,— 0 98 NEW FIFTH READER. +ca]culatcd, with its +associations, to prepare the mmd for strong +iinprossions on a nearer view, when the tcon- clusion of our own public worship should allow us to go on shore. Mr. Goodrich had +apprised us, that ho had found it expedient to hold both the services of the Sab ■ bath in the forepart of the day, that all might have tho benefit of two sermons, and still reach their abodes be- fore +nightfall. For, “Numbers dwelt '’'remote, And first must "ttraverse many a weary mile, To reach the altar of the God they love.” 6. And it was arranged, that, on this occasion, the se- cond service should be -^postponed till the officers should be at liberty to leave the ship. It was near twelve o’clock when we went on shore j the captain and first lieutenant, the purser, surgeon, several of tho '•'midshipmen, and myself. Though the services had commenced when we landed, large numbers were seen circling the doors with- out; but, as wo afterward found, only from the -timprac- ticability of obtaining places within. 7. The house is an immense '•'structure, capable of con- taining many thousands, every part of which was filled, except a small area in front of the pulpit, w’here seats were reserved for us, and to which we made our way, in slow and tedious 'tprocession, from the difficulty of find- ing a spot to place even our footsteps, without treading on limbs of the people, seated on their feet, as closely, almost, as they could be stowed. 8. As we entered, Mr. Goodrich paused in his sermon, till we should be seated. I '•'ascended the pulpit beside him, from which I had a full view of fhe ■^congregation. The' suspense of attention in the people was only '•'mo- mentary, notwithstanding the entire novelty to them of the laced coats, and other appendages of naval uniform. I can scarce describe the emotions experienced in glanc- ing an eye over the immense niimber, seated so thickly on%he matted floor as to seem, -^literally, one mass of heads, covering an area of more than nine thousand square feet. The sight was most striking, and soon be- ECLKCTIC SERIES. 99 came, not only to myself, but to some of my fellow-offi- cers, deeply affecting. 9. I have listened, with delightful attention, to some of the highest +eloquence, the pulpits of America and England, of the present day, can boast. I have scon tears of +convietion and +penitence flow freely, under the sterner truths of the word of God; but it was left for one at Hilo, the most +obscure corner of these distant islands, to excite the liveliest emotions ev^er experienced, and leave the deepest impressions of the extent and ^unsearchable riches of the gospel, which I have ever known. 10. It seemed, even while I gazed, that the majesty of that Power might be seen rising and +erecting to itself a throne, permanent as glorious, in the hearts of these but late utterly benighted and deeply polluted people. And when I compared them, as they had once been known to me, and as they now appeared, the change seemed the effect of a tmandate scarcely less mighty in its power, or speedy in its result, than that exhibited, when it was said, ^‘■Let there he light, and there was light!” 11. The depth of the impression arose from the +irrc- sistible +conviction that the Spirit op God was there. It could have been nothing else. With the exception of the inferior chiefs, having charge of the district, and their dependents, of two or three native members of the church, and of the mission family, scarcely one of the whole multitude was in other than the native dress, the simple garments of their +primitive state. 12. In this respect and in the +attitude of sitting, the assembly was purely pagan. But the breathless silence, the eager attention, the half-suppressed sigh, the tear, the various feeling, sad, peaceful, joyous, ■‘'discoverable in the faces of many; all spoke the presence of an invisi- ble but ■‘"omnipotent Power, the Power which alone can melt and rerew the heart of man, even as it alone first bi’ought it into existence. 13. It was, in a word, a heathen congregation laying hold on the hopes of eternity; a heathen congregation. 100 NEW FIFTH READER. fully sensible of the '^degradation of their original state: texiilting in the first beams of truth, and in the no un- certain "^dawning of the Sun of Righteousness; thirsting after knowledge, even while they sweetly drank the waters of life; and, under the inspiring infiuence, by every look, expressing the heartfelt truth — “Beautiful on the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings; that bringeth good tidings of good, that '*'pub- lisheth salvation!” 14. The simple appearance and yet Christian '’'deport- men t of that obscure '’'congregation, whom I had once known, and at no remote period, only as a set of rude, licentious, and wild pagans, did more to rivet the con- viction of the divine origin of the Bible, and of the holy influences by which it is accompanied to the hearts of men, than all the '’'arguments, and '’'apologies, and de- fenses of Christianity I ever read. 15. An entire moral '’'reformation had taken place. Instruction of every kind is eagerly and '’'universally sought, and from many a humble dwelling, now “Is daily heard The voice of prayer and praise to Jacob’s God: And many a heart in secret heaves a sigh. To Him who hears, well pleased, the sigh contrite.” •QuESTiONS.^Where are the Sandwich Islands? For what object were the persons assembled as described in this lesson? What change has taken place in the character of the population ? To what is this change to be attributed ? Describe their appearance as seated in the church. What is said of their deportment?. What conviction is all this calculated to produce? Which are the adjectives in the 14th paragraph? Compare each of them that will admit it? What does the word adjective mean? Why eo called? See Pinneo’s Analytical Grammar. EXERCISE XI. D-ay, a~ge, \-aw, awe-di, f-a-ther, a-rm, ih-ee, ee-1, oo-ze, th-y, i-slc, th-oii. We have c-rrM and str-ay’-d from thy w-ay-s like 1-o-st sh-ee-p Sp-a-re thou those, Oh G-o-d, who confess their f-a7/-lts. ECLECTIC SERIES. 101 LESSON XXIV.2// 1 . 1 . 4. 4 . Ex-te'-bi-or 11 . outward ap- pearance. De-pict^-ei) ; V . painted, repre- sented. Rev '-e-nues ; n. annual income from taxes, public rents, &c., belonging to the public. As-sid^-u-ous; adj. very care- ful and attentive. 4. Fi-nance^; n. income of the king or state. D ef^-i-cit ; n. deficiency, want. 6. De-fault^-er ; n. one who fails to account for public money entrusted to his care. 9. Ex-per-i-ment^-al; adj. deriv- ed from experience. 9. Ix-juNC^-TiON ; n. a command THE MANIAC. A Pronounce correctly the following words found in this lesson. Do not say fig-ger for fig-t^re; sor-rer for sor-ro?«j; mel-un~clinl~y for mel-an-chol-y ; -nance for fi-nance^; de-fif-cii for deP-i-cit; mis-cal-ky-la-tion for mis-cal-cu-lation. 1. A GENTLEMAN who had traveled in Europe, relates that he one day visited tljc hospital of Berlin, where he saw a man whose exterior was very striking. His figure, tall and ‘^commanding, was bending with age, but more vrith sorrov/; the few scattered hairs which remained on his temples were white, almost as the driven snow, and the deepest ‘‘'melancholy was depicted in nis countenance. 2. On inquiring who he was, and what brought him there, he started, as if from sleep, and after looking around him, began with slow and measured steps to stride the hall, repeating in a loVv but ‘‘‘audible voice, ‘‘Once one is two; once one is two.” .3. Now and then he would stop and remain with his arms folded on his breast as if in +contem 2 )lation, for some minutes; then again resuming his walk, he con- tinued to repeat, “Once one is two^; once one is two^.” His stoiy, as our traveler understood it, was as follows. 4. Conrad Lange, collector of the revenues of the city of Berlin, had long been known as a man whom nothing could divert from the paths of honesty. ‘‘‘Scrupulously exact in all his dealings, and assiduous in the discharge 102 NEW FIFTH READER. of all his duties, he had acquired the good will and esteem of all who knew him, and the confidence of tho minister of finance, whose duty it is to inspect the accounts of all officers connected with the revenue. 5. On casting up his accounts at the close of a par- ticular year^, lie found a deficit^ of ten thousand '•'ducats''. Alarmed at this discovery^, he went to the minister, presented his accounts, and informed him that he did not know how it had arisen, and that he had been robbed by some person bent on his ruin^. G. The minister received his accounts, but thinking it a duty to secure a person who might probably be a defiiulter, he caused him to be arrested, and put his accounts into the hands of one of his secretaries for ■•'inspection, who returned them the day after with the information that tlie '•'deficiency arose from a '•'miscalcu- lation; that in multiplying, Mr. Lange had said, once one is two, instead of, once one is one. 7. The poor man was immediately released from ■•■confinement, his accounts returned, and the mistake pointed out. During his imprisonment, which lasted two days, he had neither eaten, drank, nor taken any repose; and when he appeared, his countenance was as pale as death. On receiving his accounts, he was a long time silent; then suddenly awaking as if from a +trance, he repeated, “once one is two.” 8. He appeared to be entirely insensible of his situa- tion; would neither eat nor drink, unless '•'solicited; and took notice of nothing that passed around him. While rejieating his accustomed phrase, if any one corrected him by saying, “once one is one;'' his attention was ■•arrested for a moment, and he said, “ah, right, once one is one;” and then resuming his walk, he continued to repeat, “once one is two.” He died shortly after the traveler left Berlin. 9. This affecting story, whether true^ or untrue^, ■•'obviously abounds with lessons of instruction^. Alas^I how easily is the human mind thrown off its balance^; especially when it is stayed on this world only — and has ECLECTIC SERIES. KVi no experimental knowledge of the meaning of the in- junction of Scripture, to cast all our cares upon Him' who careth for us, and who heareth even the young ravens wh en they cry. Questions. — Relate the story of Conrad Lange. What does it teach ys? Give the rules for the inflections marked in the 3d and 9th para- graphs. What part of speech is the last word in the lesson? EXERCISE XII. Prolong the sounds of the vowels that are italicized. W-a-r, o-r-b, p-w-re, d-ot4?-n, ai-d, h-ow, s-a-ve. Th-c-se are thy gl-o-ri-ous works, p-a-rent of g-oo-d. F-ai-rest of st-a-rs ! L-a-st in the tr-ai-n of n-i-ght. H-o-ly, h-o-ly, h-o-ly, a-rt th-ow, Oh L-o-rd! H-ai-l, h-o-ly 1-i-ght. We pr-ai-se tli-ce, Oh L-o-rd G-o-d. LESSON \XY.ZJ Hom^'-age; n. reverence and service paid by a subject to his king. Bar^-on ; n. a lord, a nobleman. Duch'-y; n. the territory of a duke. 1. Bark; n. a vessel, a small ship. 2. Reck^-less; adj. thoughtless. 3. Fes^-tal; adj. pertaining to a feast, gay. 3. Tourn^-ey; n. (pro. turn'-y) a kind of sport in which per- sons tried their courage and skill in fighting with the lance and sword. 3. Mtn^-strel; n. one who sings, and plays on an instrument. HE NEVER SMILED AGAIN. Pronounce correctly. Do not say Eiig-lund for Eng-land, (pro. Ing-land); re-cog^-niz'd for rec^-og-nized; hull for whole ; hcerd for heard; for glo-ri-ous ; for min-strel ; toorn-y for tourn-ey, (pro. turn-y.) Henry I, king of England, who commenced his reign A. D. 1100, had a son called William, a brave and noble- minded youth, who had arrived at his eighteenth year. The king loved him most tenderly, and took care to have him '♦'recognized as his successor by the states of i04 NEV{ FIFTH READER. England, and carried him over to Normandy, in the north of Franco, to receive the homage of the barons of that duchy. On the prince’s return, the vessel in which he ■’'embarked was ‘’'wrecked. He was placed in a boat and might have escaped, had he not been called back by the cries of his sister. He '’'prevailed on the sailors to i’ow back and take her in; but no sooner had the boat approached the Avreck, than numbers who had been left, jumped into it, and the Avhole were drowned. King Henry, when he heard of the death of his son, fainted away, and from tliat moment, he never smiled again 1' The bark that held the prince went down, The sweeping waA^es rolled on^; And Avhat Avas England’s glorious crown To him that Avept a son? He liA"ed^~for life may long be borne Ere sorroAV breaks its chain^; Still comes not death to those Avho mourn ; He never smiled again ! 2. There stood proud forms before his throne, The ■’'stately and the braA^e; But Avhich could fill the place of one? That one beneath the Avave. Before^ him, passed the 3 "oung and fair In pleasure’s reckless ‘’'train^; But seas dashed o’er his son’s bright hair; He never smiled again ! 3. He sat Avhere festal boAvls Avent round'", He heard the minstrek sing; He saAA^ the tourney’s victor croAvned Amid the mighty ring^; A ■’'murmur of the '’'restless deep Mingled with CA^ery strain, A A'oice of Avinds that would not sleep: He neA'cr smiled again ! 4. Hearts, in that time, closed o’er the ■’'trace Of IvoAA^s once fondly poured*"; eclp:ctic sekip:s. 105 And '^'strcnigers took tbo kinsman's^ place, At many a \joyous board^, Graves^, wliieli true love had bathed with tears, Were left to heaven’s bright rain^; Fresh hopes were born for other years; Be never smiled again ! Questions. — llelate the event upon v^hicli this poem is founded. How long since did it happen? Where is Normandy? Explain the meaning of the third stanza. How should the fourth line of the second stanza be read? For whom does “he” stand, in the last line of each stanza? Give the rule for each inflection marked. EXERCISE XIII. Prolong the sounds of the vowels that are italicized. A'-rr, a-11, !’’ Were the swelling words of a tiny stone; “ISTor time nor seasons can alter me; I am "tabiding, while ages flee. , The ^pelting hail and the *^driveling rain Have tried to soften me, long, in vain ; And the tender dew has sought to melt Or touch my heart ; but it was not felt^. 2. ‘‘There’s none that can tell about my birth, For I ’m as old as the big, round earth. The children of men arise, and pass Out of the world like blades of grass; And many a foot on me has trod^, That’s gone from sight, and under the ^sod^I I am a Pebble^! but who art thou'^, ' Rattling along from the restless bougli?” ECLECTIC SERIES. . i lie Acorn was shocked at this rude salute, And lay for a moment, abashed and mute'; bhe never before had been so ne.ii- his gravelly hall, the mundane +sphere'- And she felt, for a time, at a loss to know’ diow to answer a thing so coarse and low. 117 4. But to give reproof of a nobler sort lhan the angry look- or keen retort-; uQ- a gentle tone: bince It has happened that I am thrown From the lighter element, where I grew Down to another, so hard and new, And beside a +personage so +august-, Abased, I will cover my head in dust', And quickly retire from the sight of one Whom time' nor season', nor storm', nor sun' 01 the gentle dew', nor the grinding heel- Das ever subdued, or made to feel'i” ’ And soon, in the earth, she sunk away From the comfortless spot where the Pebble lay. Dill It was not long ere the soil was broke .by the peering head of an infant oak'; 'I branches spread, llic lebble looked up, and wondering said: A modest Acorn''! never to tell What was enclosed in its simple shell' f ihat the pride of the forest was folded up in the narrow space of its little cup'i And meekly to sink in the -^darksome earth. Which proves that nothing could hide its worth! 6 And on! how many will tread on mo ^ come and admire the beautiful tree ’ Whose head is +towering toward the sky Above such a worthless thing as I't Useless and vain, a cumberer here I have been idling from year to year. But never from this, shall a vaunting word roin the humble Pebble again bo heard. FIFTH READER. Till something, without me or. within, ^ Shull show the purpose for which I have been. The Pebble its vow could not forget. And it lies there wrapped in silence yet. QvrsrioNS.-What was the boast? didTt SLlstheiaorat ot this “at words in the fourth paragraph form (u time— heel.’ ’ ) G ive the reasons for the other inflections m LESSON XXXI.' 1 . At-test^; iJ. to bear Tvitness to. 3. Ac ^-TioN ; n. a claim made be- fore a court. 3. As-si^-zes; n. a court of justice. 6. RlaintMff; ?2. the person who commences a suit at court. 7. Rre-ca^-ri-oxjs; aij. uncertain. 7. .TtZ-ry-man; n. one Avho serves ' on a jury, and whose business it is to hear the evidence and decide which party is rig^t in any given case. 7 . Ex-cept^; V. to object. 10. Dex^-trous; ct. skillful, artful. 10. Ad-du^ced; V . brought for- ward in argument. 11. Plead^-er; n. one that argues in a court of justice, [on oath. 11. De-po^sed; V . gave evidence 11. Ver^-dict; n. the decision of a jury concerning the matter referred to them, [of a jury. 12. Fore^-man; n. the chief man 14 Dem-on-stra^-tion; n. certain proof. 15. Sopii^-ist-ry; n. false reason- THE JUST JUDGE. Ihp followinG^ words in this lesson. Do nol e-Wn). 1 A GENTLEMAN xvlio possessed an ECLECTIC SERIES. 119 brother was dead, and ^bribed false witnesses to attest the truth of it. 2. In the course of time, the elder brother returned; but came home in '^destitute circumstances. His younger brother repulsed him with scorn, and told him that he was an '^'impostor and a cheat. He asserted that his real brother was dead long ago; and he could bring witnesses to prove it. The poor fellow, having neither money nor friends, was in a sad situation. He went round the parish making complaints, and, at last, to a lawyer, who, when he had heard the j^oor man’s story, replied, You have nothing to give me. If I undertake your cause and lose^ it, it will bring me into '•''disgrace, as all the wealth and '^'evidence are on your brother’s side. 3. ^‘However, I will undertake it on this condition; you shall enter into an '^obligation to pay me one thou- sand guineas, if I gain the estate for you. If I lose^ it, I know the consequences^; and I venture with my eyes open^.” Accordingly, he entered an action against the younger brother, which was to be tried at the next gen- eral assizes at Chelmsford, in Essex. 4. The lawyer, having engaged in the cause of the young man, and being '^'stimulated by the jirospect of a thousand guineas, set his wits to work to contrive the best method to gain his end. At last, ho hit upon this happy thought, that ho would consult the first judge of his age. Lord Chief Justice Hale. Accordingly, he has- tened up to London, and laid open the cause, and all its circumstances. The judge who was a great lover of justice^, heard the case attentively, and j^romised him all the assistance in his power^. 5. The lawyer having taken leave, the judge con- trived matters so as to finish all his business at the King’s Bench, before the assizes began at Chelmsford. When within a short distance of the place, he dismissed his man and horses, and sought a single house. He found one occupied by a miller. After some conversa- tion, and making himself qufte agreeable, he proposed to the miller to change clothes'^ with him. As the judge 120 NEW FIFTH READER. had a very good^ Buit on, the man had no reason to object. 6. Accordingly, the Judge shifted from top to toe, and put on a complete suit of the miller’s best. Armed with a miller’s hat, and shoes, and stick, he walked to Chelmsford, and ^procured good lodgings, suitable for the assizes, that should come on next day. When the trials came on, he walked like an ignorant country fellow, backward and forward along the county hall. He observed narrowly what passed around^ him; and when the court began to filP, he found out the poor fellow who was the plaintiffs. 7. As soon as he came into the hall, the miller drew up to him. “Honest friend^,” said he, “how is your cause like to go^ to-day?” “Why, my cause is in a very precarious situation, and, if I lose it, I am ruined for life.” “Well, honest friend^,” replied the miller, “will you take my advice^? I will let you into a secret^, which perhaps you do not know"^ ; every Englishman has the right and privilege to except against any one jury- man out of the whole twelve; now do you insist uj)on your "^privilege, without giving a reason, and, if possible, get me chosen in his room, and I will do you all the service in my power.” 8. Accordingly, when the clerk had called over the names of the jurymen, the plaintiff excepted to one of them. The judge on the bench was highly offended at this liberty. “What do you mean,” said he, “by ex- cepting against that gentleman?” “I mean, my lord, to assert my privilege as an Englishman, without giving a reason why.” 9. The judge, who had been highly bribed, in order to conceal it by a show of candor, aSbid having a '’‘confidence in the '’’superiority of his party, said, “Well, sir^, as you claim your privilege in one^ instance, I will granp it. Whom would you wish to have in the room of that man excepted?” After a short time, taken in '’‘conside- ration, “ My lord, says he, “ I wish to have an honest man chosen in;” and looking round the court — “my ECLECTIC SERIES. 121 lord^, tliere is that miller'^ in the court; wo will have if you please.” Accordingly, the miller was chosen in. 10. As soon as the clerk of the court had given them all their oaths, a dextrous little fellow came into the apartment, and slipped ten golden guineas into the hands of eleven jurymen, and gave the miller but five. ITc observed that they were all brib'ed as well as him- self, and said to his next neighbor, in a soft whisper, “How much have you^ got?” “Ten pieces^,” said he. But he concealed what he had got himself. The cause was opened by the plaintiff’s counsel; and all the scraps of evidence they could pick up were adduced in his favor. 11. The younger brother was provided with a great number of witnesses and pleaders, all plentifully bribed, as well as the judge. The witnesses deposed, that they were in the self-same country when the brother died, and saw him buried. The counselors pleaded upon this '^'accumulated '^evidence; and every thing went with a full tide in favor of the younger brother. The judge summed up the evidence with great gravity and delibe- ration; “and now, gentlemen of the jury ^,” said he, “ lay your heads together, and bring in your verdict as you shall deem most just.” 12. They waited but for a few minutes, before they determined in favor of the younger brother. The judge said, “Gentlemen^, are you agreed? and who shall speak^ for you?” “We are all agreed, my lord^,” replied one, “ and our foreman^ shall speak for us.” “Hold'', my lord^,” replied the miller; we are all agreed.” “Why^?” said the judge, in a very surly manner, “what’s the matter with you^f Whac rea- rms have yoU^ for disagreeing ? ” 13. “I have several reasons, my lord,” replied the miller : “ the first is, they have given to all these gentle- men of the jury ten^ broad pieces of gold, and to me but five'^; which, you know, is not fair. Besides, I have manv objections to make to the false reasonings of the 5th R.— 1 1 122 NEW FIFTH READER. pleaders, and the ‘^'contradictory evidence of the wit- nesses.” Upon this, the miller began a discourse, which discovered such a vast penetration of judgment, such ■^'extensive knowledge of law, and was expressed with such manly and energetic eloquence, that it astonished tlie judge and the whole court. 14. As he was going on with his powerful demonstra tions, the judge, in great surprise, stopped him. Where did you come from, and who are you? ” “ I came from Westminster Hall,” replied the miller; ^^my name is Matthew Hale; I am Lord Chief Justice of the King’s Bench. I have observed the "^iniquity of your proceed- ings this day ; therefore, come down from a seat which you are not worthy to hold. You are one of the cor- rupt parties in this iniquitous business. I will come up this moment and try the cause all over again.” 15. Accordingly, Sir Matthew went up, with his mil- ler’s dress and hat on, began the trial from its very commencement, and searched every circumstance of truth jind falsehood. He evinced the elder brother’s title to the estate, from the contradictory evidence of the witnesses, and the false reasoning of* the pleaders; ■**unraveled all the sophistry to the very bottom, and gained a complete victory in favor of truth and justice. Questions. — What were the circumstances, under which the younger brother took possession of his father’s estate? How did he treat his elder brother upon his return ? What did the elder brothei do? What plan did Chief Justice Hale pursue? What influenced him to take all this trouble ? EXERCISE XYI. In the following words, sound the last consonant distinctly. (After such exercises as this, it will be necessary to guard against a drawling style of reading.) Or-6, ai-d, fa-^, Geov-gCy SL-Uy ai-w, ow-w, li-p, wa-r, hi-55, ha-t gi-VBy (i-dd, so-ng, brea-^A, tru-if/z, pu-s/i, bir-c7^. Mo-6, la-d, ru-/, ha-g, cn-ge, ta-c/i:, fi-ZZ, ri-m, si-?i, ho^, fa-r, pa-C6 hi-Z, hsi-vCy ha-5, pa-wp', ba-wT:, soo-they pi-Zi^, wi-.9^, ri-c^. ECLECTIC SERIES. 123 LESSON xxxnj<£. 1 3 Con-trol'; V. subdue, restrain, govern. Cult^-ure; n. cultivation, im- provement by effort. Def^-er-ence ; n. regard, re- spect. 6. Su-per-an^-nu-a-ted j adj, im- "'""^paired by old age and in- firmity. 7. Rep''-ri-mand ; v, to reprove for a fault. [gained. 8. A-chiev^-ed ; p. (pro. a-cheev^d^) CONTROL YOUR TEMPER. Pronounce correctly and articulate distinctly. Do not say nat-ter-rul-ly nor nafr’l-ly for nat-w-ral-ly ; cul-ter nor cult-tshur for cul-twre (pro. cult-yur) ; spe-cial-lij for es-pecial-ly ; de-roAig'd for de-ranged ; def-runce for def-er-cnce ; gov-uns for gov-erns ; winder-hline for win-doz^-blinc^ ; u-sliul for u-sw-al. 1. No ONE has a temper naturally so good, that it does not need attention and cultivation, and no one has a temper so had, but that, by proper culture, it may become pleasant. One of the best disciplined tempers ever seen, was that of a gentleman who was naturally quick, irritable, rash, and violent ; but, by having the care of the sick, and especially of ’’'deranged people, he so completely mastered himself, that he was never known to be thrown off his guard. 2. The difference in the happiness which is received or bestowed by the man who governs his temper, and that by the man who does not, is immense. There is no misery so constant, so distressing, and so '’'intolerable to others, as that of having a disposition, which is your master, and which is continually fretting itself. There are corners enough, at every turn in life, against which we may run, and at which we may break out in ’’’impa- tience, if we choose. 3. Look at Eoger Sherman^, who rose, from a humble occupation, to a seat in the fii’st Congress of the United States, and whose judgment was received with great def- erence by that body of distinguished men. He made 124 NEW FIFTH READER. himself master of his temper, and ^cultivated it as a great h.usiness in life. There are one or two instances which %how this part of his character in a light that is beautiful. 4. One day, after having received his highest honors, he was sitting and reading in his parlor. A '^roguish student, in a room close by, held a looking-glass in such a position, as to pour the reflected rays of the sun di- rectly in Mr. Sherman’s face. He moved his chair, and the thing was repeated. A third time the chair was moved, but the looking-glass still '^reflected the sun in his eyes. He laid aside his book, went to the window, and many witnesses of the Hmpudence expected to hear the ungen tlemanly student severely reprimanded. He raised the window gently, and then — shut the window- blind ! 5. I can not forbear '^adducing another instance of the power he had ^acquired over himself. He was naturally possessed of strong passions ; but over these he at length obtained an extraordinary control. He became ^habitu- allj'calm, "^sedate, and self-possessed. Mr. Sherman was one of those men who are not ashamed to '^'maintain the forms of religion in their families. One morning, ho called them all together, as usual, to lead them in prayer to God^ ; the “old family Bible” was brought out, and laid on the table. 6. Mr. Sherman took his seat, and placed beside him one of his children, a child of his old age'‘; the rest of the family were seated around the room; several of these were now grown up. Beside these, some of the tutors of the college were boarders in the family, and were present at the time alluded to. His aged and su- perannuated mother occupied a corner of the room, op- posite the place where the '‘‘distinguished judge^ sat. 7. At length, he opened the Bible, and began to read. The child who was seated beside him, made some little ^disturbance, upon which Mr. Sherman paused, and told it to be still. Again he proceeded^ ; but again he paused, to reprimand the little offender^, whose playful disposi- ECLECTIC SERIES. 125 tion would scarcely permit it to be stilb. And this time, he gently tapped its ear. The blow, if blow it might be called, caught the attention of his aged mother, who now, with some effort, rose from the seat, and tottered across the room. At length, she reached the chair of Mr. Sherman, and, in a moment, most unexpectedly tc him, she gave him a blow on the ear with all the force she could ^summon. “ There^,” said she, “you strike your^ child, and I will strike mine'^y 8. For a moment, the blood was seen mounting to the face of Mr. Sherman ; but it was only"^ for a moment, when all was calm and mild as usual. He paused^ ; he raised his spectacles^ ; he cast his eye upon his mother^; again it fell upon the book^ from which he had been reading^. Not a word escaped him ; but again he calmly pursued the service, and soon after, sought, in prayer, an "^ability to set an ‘^example before his household, which should be worthy of their '^imitation. Such a victory was worth more, than the proudest one ever achieved on the field of battle. Questions. — Has any one a temper so bad that it can not be gov- erned and made pleasant ? How can this be done ? To whom does a bad temper give most pain ? Is it a duty to control it ? Repeat the two anecdotes related of Judge Sherman. Give the rules for the inflections marked in this lesson. EXERCISE XVII. When similar sounds come at the end of one word and the begin- ning of the next word, they must not be blended into one sound. Malice seeks to destroy. The breejse sighs softly. The ice slowly melts. The hosts still stand. The lane? descends. His dea?A ?Arilled the nation. Li^e y*lies swiftly. With sad dismay he saw his dreaded destiny. His blanA; countenance revealed all. Grie/* fills his heart. The ji6 6oom was carried away. The ha^ ^oaned drearily. 12G NEW FIFTH READEli. LESSON XXXIIlf; 1. Sphere; n, the expanse in which the heavenly bodies appear. 2. Moan; n. grief expressed in words or cries. 2. Crys^-tal; adj. clear, transpa- « rent. 3. Ca-reer^-ingj V, moving ra- pidlj . 3. SwERVfis; V , deviates from, varitfi from. 4. Nest^-ling; n. a young bird in the nest. [feathers. 4. UN-plumes^; v. strips of his THE CHILD'S INQUIRY. Articulate each letter. Do not chile for chM; cWeer4n* fur ca-reer-in^ ; re-ly-in^ for re-ly-in^ ; de~fy4n^ for de-fy-in g ; sweet-es for sweet~est; waf for waff. 1. What is that, mother^? The lark^, my child The morn has just looked out, and smiled, When he starts from his humble ’’’grassy nest. And is up and away with the dew on his breast, And a hymn in his heart, to yon pure bright sphere To ’’’warble it out in his Maker’s ear. Ever, my child^, be thy morn’s first lays. Tuned, like the lark’s, to thy Maker’s praise. 2. What is that^^ mother^? The dove^, my son. And that low, sweet voice, like a widow’s moan. Is flowing out from her gentle breast, ■’’Constant and pure by that lonely nest, As the wave is poured from some crystal '^urn, For her distant dear one’s quick return. Ever, my son^, be thou like the dove ; In ’’’friendship as faithful, as constant in love. 3 What is mother^? The eagle^, my boy. Proudly careering in his course of joy; Firm, in his own mountain ’’’vigor ’’’relying^ , ECLECTIC SERIES. 127 Breasting the dark storm^; the red bolt*^ ’‘'defying ; His wing on the Avind, and his eye on the sun, He swerves not a hair., but bears onward, right on^ Boy, may the eagle’s flight ever be thine ; Onward and upAvard, and true to the line ” 4 What is that^^ mother^? The SAvan, my love. He is ■‘’floating doAvn from his native grove ; Ho loved one, noAV, no nestling nigh; He is floating doAvn by himself, to die. Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings. Yet his sweetest song is the last he sings. Live so, my love, that Avhen death shall come, ■‘’SAvan-like and sweet it may waft thee home. Questions. — "What lesson is drawn from the lark ? What from the dove? The eagle? The swan? What beautiful figure in verse 2d? Which are the verbs in the last paragraph ? Give the present tense, first person plural, indicative mode, of each. Parse “swan” in the same paragraph. LESSON XXXIV. 2. Suc^'-cor; V. help, assist. 6. Shek''-el; n. a Jewish coin, worth fifty to sixty cents. 7. Com"'- PASSED ; v, surrounded. 8. Pale ; n. a low place between hills. DEATH OF ABSALOM. Remark. — The last words of every sentence should be read in such manner as the sense requires, especially avoiding a sudden fall of the voice. Articulate distinctly. Do not say Ah-s^lom for Ab-sa-lom ; tap^ns for cap-to’ns ; 7mn-durds for hun-dreds ; saw^ss for saw- €S t ; ihruss for thrush. 1. David numbered the people that were with him, and set captains of thousands and captains of hun- dreds over them. And David sent forth a third part of the people under the hand of Joab, and a third part 128 NEW FIFTH READER. under tlie band of Abishai, the son of Zeruiah, Joab’s brother, and a third part under tlie hand of Ittai, the Gittite. 2. And the king said unto the people, I will surely go forth with you myself also. But the people answered, tliou shalt not go forth; for if we flee away, they will not care for us; neither if half of us die, will they care for us; but now thou art worth ten thousand of us; therefore now it is better that thou succor us out of the city. And the king said unto them, What seemeth you best, I will do. 3. And the king stood by the gate -side, and all the people came out by hundreds and by thousands. And the king commanded Joab, and Abishai, and Ittai, say- ing, Deal gently for my sake with the young man, even with Absalom. And all the people heard when the king gave all the cajhains charge '^concerning Absalom. 4. So the people went out into the field against Israel ; and the battle was in the wood of 'tEphraim ; where the people of Israel were slain before the servants of David, and there was there a great ^slaughter that day of twenty thousand men. For the battle was there scat- tered over the face of all the country: and the wood devoured more people that day than the sword devoured. 5. And Absalom met the servants of David. And Ab- salom rode upon a mule, and the mule went under the thick boughs of a great oak, and his head caught hold of the oak, and he was taken up between the heaven and the earth ; and the mule that was under him went away. 6. And a certain man saw it, and told Joab, and said, Behold, I saw Absalom hanged in an oak. And Joab said unto the man that told him, And behold, thou sawest him, and why didst thou not smite him there to the ground? and I would have given thee ten shekels of silver and a ‘^girdle. And the man said unto Joab, Though I should receive a thousand shekels of silver in my hand, yet would I not put forth my hand against the king’s son: for, in our hearing, the king charged thee, and Abishai, and Ittai, saying. Beware that none ECLECTIC SERIES. 129 touch the young man Absalom. Otherwise, 1 should have hvrought falsehood against mine own life; for there is no matter hid from the king, and thou thyself wouldst have set thyself against me. 7. Then said Joab, I may not tarry thus with thee. And he took three darts in his hand, and thrust them through the heart of Absalom, while he was yet alive in the midst of the oak. And ten young men that bare Joab’s armor, compassed about and smote Absalom, and slew him. And Joab blew the trumpet, and the people returned from pursuing after Israel; for Joab held back the people. 8. And they took Absalom, and cast him into a great pit in the wood, and laid a very great heap of stones upon him; and all Israel fled, every one to his tent. How Absalom, in his lifetime, had taken and +r eared up for himself a pillar, which is in the king’s dale ; for he said, I have no son to keep my name in ‘^remembrance; and he called the pillar after his own name; and it is called unto this day, Absalom’s Place. 9. Then said Ahimaaz the son of Zadok, Let me now run, and bear the king ‘^'tidings, how that the Lord hath avenged him of his "^enemies. And Joab said unto him. Thou shalt not bear tidings this day, but thou shalt bear tidings another day: but this day thou shalt bear no tidings, because the king’s son is dead. Then said Joab to Cushi, Go, tell the king what thou hast seen. And Cushi bowed himself unto Joab, and ran. 10. Then said Ahimaaz the son of Zadok yet again to Joab, But howsoever, let me, I pray thee, also run after Cushi. And Joab said. Wherefore wilt thou run, my son, seeing that thou hast no "^tidings ready? But how- soever, said he, let me run. And he said unto him, run. Then Ahimaaz ran by the way of the plain, and overrun Cushi. 11. And David sat between the two gates; and the watchman went up to the roof over the gate unto the wall, and lifted up his eyes, and looked, and behold, a man running alone. And the ‘‘‘watchman cried, and 130 NEW FIFTH READER. told the king. And the king said, If he be aloi.e, there is tidings in his mouth. And he came apace, and drew near. 12. And the watchman saw another man running, and the watchman called unto the porter, and said. Behold, another man running alone. And the king said. He also bringeth tidings. And the watchman said, +Me- thinketh the running of the foremost is like the running of Ahimaaz the son of Zadok. And the king said. He is a good man, and cometh with good tidings. 13. And Ahimaaz called, and said unto the king. All is well. And he fell down to the earth upon his face before the king, and said. Blessed be the Lord thy God, which hath delivered up the men that lifted up their hand against my lord the king. And the king said, Is the young man Absalom safe? And Ahimaaz answered. When Joab sent the king’s servant, and me thy servant, I saw a great ^tumult, but I knew not what it was. And the king said unto him, Turn aside and stand here. And he turned aside, and stood still. 14. And behold, Cushi came ; and Cushi said, Tidings my lord the king; for the Lord hath '^'avenged thee this day of all them that rose up against thee. And the king said unto Cushi, Is the young man Absalom safe ? And Cushi answered. The enemies of my lord the king, and all that rise against thee to do thee hurt, be as that young man is. 15. And the king was much moved^, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept ; and as he went, thus he said. Oh my son Absalom^! my son^, my son Ab- salom^! would to God I had died for thee^. Oh Absalom^, my son, my son''! Questions. — Why did not David himself go forth to the battle? What charge did David give to the three officers respecting Absalom ? What was the result of the battle ? What was the fate of Absalom ? What was the effect of the news of Absalom’s death upon king David? Explain the inflections in the last two lines. (Persons addressed and emphatic repetition). ECLECTIC SERIES. 131 LESSON XXXV 6. Court^-jj-sy; 7i. (pro. kurt^-e-sy) civility, politeness. 4. Trem^-u-lous ; ac?;. trembling. \ Es-trang^I^d; ac?/. alienated in — ' affection. 4 CoN-TROLLED^j V. restrained. 6 Stm^-me-try; n. a due propor- tion of the several parts of a body to each other. 5. Swayed; v. leaned, moved back and forth. 6. Trail^-ing; n. dragging on 4iie ground. 6. Re-vers^ed; v, turned side for side, or end for end. 9. Sack^-cloth; n. a coarse cloth. 12. Mant^-ling; ac?;. covering with crimson. ABSALOM. Remark. — In reading, be careful not to join the final consonant of one word to the vowel of the next word, in the following way, viz : They gathered roun dim on the fresh green bank. And spoke their kindly words ; an das the sun * 'Rose upineaven^ &c. Be careful to avoid this fault, by articulating distinctly such words in the above, as round him/^ “ and as, up in heaven, and the following and similar words in the lesson, viz : Do not say hare dis for bared his ; how dis for bow^d his ; wor dsof for words of ; an dis voi swen tup for and his voice went up. 1 . King David’s limbs were weary. He had fled From far Jerusalem ; and now he stood, With his faint people, for a little rest Upon the shores of Jordan. The light wind Of morn was stirring, and he hared his brow To its refreshing breath ; for he had worn The '^mourner’s covering, and he had not felt That he could see his people until now. 2. They gathered round him on the fresh green bank And spoke their kindly words ; and, as the sun Eose up in heaven, he knelt among them there, And bowed his head upon his hands to pray. 3 Oh! when the heart is full, when bitter thoughts Come crowding thickly up for ‘^utterance, And the poor common words of courtesy 132 NEW FIFTH READER. Are such a very ■*'mockery^, how much The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer I 4. He prayed for Israel^; and his voice went up^ Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those Whose love had been his shield^; and his deep tones Grew tremulous^. But, oh ! for Absalom^ For his estranged^ "^misguided Absalom^ The proud, bright being, who had burst away, In all his princely beauty, to defy The heart that cherished him, for him he poured. In agony that would not be controlled. Strong supplication, and forgave him there. Before his God, for his deep sinfulness. 5 The pall was settled. ^ He who slept beneath Was straightened for the grave ; and, as the folds Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed The matchless symmetry of Absalom. His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls Were floating round the '^tassels as they swayed To the admitted air, as glossy now. As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing The snowy fingers of Judea’s girls. 6. His helm was at his feet : his banner^, soiled With trailing through Jerusalem^, was laid, Eeversed^, beside him^, and the jeweled hilt^. Whose '^'diamonds lit the passage of his blade, Bested, like mockery^, on his covered brow. 7. The soldiers of the king trod to and fro. Clad in the garb of battle ; and their chief. The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier. And gazed upon the dark pall ^steadfastly. As if he feared the slumber er might stir. 8. A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade As if a trumpet rang ; but the bent form Of David entered, and he gave command. In a low tone to his few followers. Who left him with his dead. KCLECTIC SERIES. 133 9. The king stood still Till the last '•'echo died; then, throwing off The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back The +i)all from the still features of his child. He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth In the resistless elo(][uence of woe i lb “Alas ! my noble boy, that thou shouldst die ! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair ! That death should settle in thy gloi’ious eye. And leave his stillness in this '•'clustering hair I How could he mark thee for the silent tomb. My proud boy, Absalom ! 11. “Cold is thy brow, my son, and I am chill. As to my bosom I have tried to press thee. How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, A ^ harpstring, ^yearning to caress thee. And hear thy sweet father" from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom ! 12. “The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush Of music, and the voices of the young: And life will pass me in its mantling btush. And the dark -^tresses to the soft winds flung. But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt°como To meet me, Absalom ! 13. “And, oh! when I am stricken, and my heart. Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken. How will its love for thee, as I depart. Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token I t weio so sweet, amid death’s gathering gloom, To see thee, Absalom! H. “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 woo its '•'bitterness had won thee May God have called thee, like a -^wanderer, home. My erring Absalom ! ’’ 134 NEW FIFTH READER. 15. He covered up his face, and bowed himself A moment on his child : then, giving him A look of melting tenderness, he clasped His hand ^convulsively, as if in prayer. And, as a strength were given him of God, He rose up ^calmly, and '^composed the pall Firmly and decently, and left him there. As if his rest had been a breathing sleep. EXERCISE XVIII. Thou waft^st the ships. Thou acknowledgest thy crimes. Thou lisfnest to my tale. It exists somewhere. Thou knewest that I was a hard man. Thou wrongest wrongfully. LESSON XXXVI, 1. Can-'-o-py; n. a covering over the head. 2. De^-vi-ous; adj. out of the com- mon way or track. 2. Ob-liv^-ion; n. forgetfulness. 2. Ru^-mi-nate; v. to meditate, to think. [fleet. 2. Pon^-deb; V. to consider, to re- 4. Me-an^-der-ings; n. windings. 5. Tur-moil''; n. a great stir, trou- ble. 5. In-scru^-ta-ble; adj. that can not be discovered. 8. Peer^-ing; V. peeping, looking about narrowly. 17. Im-pale^; V. to fix on a sharp instrument. 24. A^-e-rie; n. (pro. or e^-ry) the nest of birds of prey. 24. CoM-PLA^'-CEN-CY ; n. satisfac- tion. A MORNING RAMBLE. Utter distinctly all the consonants in the following words found in this lesson: frequently, rambling, recline, listlessly, rippling, branches, abstracted, middle, inscrutable, croaking, cruel, relapsM, traps, commingled, grudges, scratch, indispensable, privileges, giggle, crack, rattlesnake, inaccessible, composedly. 1. I FREQUENTLY spcud R momiug in the country, 'trambling alone in the melancholy woods; sometimes resting myself against the bark of a time-worn tree; sometimes lingering on the woody hights looking far 13b BCLECTIC SERIES. over the surrounding world. At other times, I recline listlessly by the side of some clear brook, over whose ripp iiij, way the branches meet, and form nature’s choicest canopy. 2. Here I indulge my memory and imagination in a thousand devious wanderings. I recall the distant shadows of departed time that have, by degrees, faded almost into oblivion, and send my mind on errands to tne tuture. At times, I become so completely abstracted rom the scenes around, as to forget where I am, and to lose almost the consciousness of being. I ruminate 1 ponder, and I dream. ’ 3. On one of these occasions, about the middle of the month of August, when the +dog-star rages, and all nature sinks into a sort of luxurious repose, I had become somewhat tired with a ramble longer than usual, and laid myself listlessly along the margin of a little that stole its winding way among the deep obscurities of the wood, +diffusing coolness, and inviting to repose. 4. Through the arched canopy of Holiage that over- ung the little stream, I could see it coursing its wav on each hand among the rocks, glittering as if by moon- light, and disappearing after a thousand meanderings. It m impossible— at least with me it is impossible— to resist the influence of such a scene. Eeflecting beings 1 'e ourselves, sink into a sort of melancholy +reverio under the influence of the hallowed quiet that reigns all around. ^ 5. As I thus lay, in ^languid listlessness along the stream, as quiet as the leaves that breathed not a whis- per above nie, I gradually sunk into almost +uncon- sciousness of all the world and all it holds. The little birds sported about, careless of my presence, and the insects pursued that incessant turmoil, which seems never to cease, lintil winter lays his icy fetters on all nature, and drives them into their inscrutable hiding- places. ^ 6. There is a +lapse in the recollection of the current 136 NEW FIFTH READER. of my thoughts at that moment, a short period of forget- fulness, from which I was roused by a hoarse, croaking voice, exclaiming, “Cruel, savage monster, what does he here?” I looked all around, and could see only a hawk seated on the limb of a dry tree, eyeing me, as I fan* cied, with a peculiar expression of hostility. 7. In a few minutes, I again relapsed into a profound reverie, from which I was awakened once more by a small squeaking whisper, “I dare say the blood-thirsty villain has been setting traps for us.” I looked again, and at first sight, could see nothing from which I sup- posed the voice might proceed, but, at the same time, imagined that I distinguished a sort of confused whisper. In which many little voices seemed ^commingled. 8. My curiosity was awakened, and peering about . quietly, I found it proceeded from a collection of animals, birds, and insects, gathered together for some unaccountable purpose. They seemed very much ex- cited, and withal, in a great passion about something, all talking at once. Listening "^attentively, 1 could distin- guish one from the other. 9. “Let us tpounce upon the tyrant, and kill him in his sleep,” cried a bald eagle: “for he grudges me a miserable little lamb now and then, though I do not require one above once a week. See ! where he wounded me in the wing, so that I can hardly get an honest living, by prey.” 10. “Let me scratch his eyes out,” screamed a hawk, “for he will not allow me peaceably to carry off a chicken from his barnyard, though I am dying of hun- ger, and come in open day to claim my natural, indis- pensable right.” 11. “Ay, ay,” barked the fox, “he interferes in tiio same base manner with my privileges, though I visit his hen roost in the night, that I may not disturb him.” 12. “Agreed,” hissed a rattlesnake, “for he won’t let me bite him, though he knows it is my nature, and kills me according to Scripture.” And thereupon, he rattled his tail, curled himself in ^spiral volumes, and ECLECTIC SERIES. 137 darted his tongue at mo in the most fearful and tlireat- ening manner. -^gi'ced, said a great fat spider, which sat in his net, surrounded by the dead bodies of half a dozen insects, “agreed, for the bloody-minded +savage takes delight in destroying the fruits of my honest labors, on all occasions.” 14. “By all means,” buzzed a great blue-bottle fly “for he will not let me tickle his nose, of a hot summer day, though he must see with half an eye, that it gives me infinite satisfaction.” ° 15. “Kill him,” cried a little ant, that ran' foaming and fretting about at a furious rate, “kill him without mercy, for he don’t mind treading me into a million of atoms, a bit more than you do killing a fly,” addressing the spider. “The less you say about that, the better ” whispered the spider. ’ 16. “Odds fish!” exclaimed a beautiful trout, that I should like very much to have caught, popping his head out of the brook, “Odds fish! kill the monster by all means; hook him, I say, for he +entices me with worms and devours me to gratify his +insatiable appetite.” 17. “To be sure,” said a worm, “kill him as he sleeps and I’ll eat him afterward; for though I am acknowl- edged on all hands to be his brother, he impales me alive on a hook, only for^his '•'amusement.” 18. “I consent,” cooed the dove, “for he has deprived me of my mate, and made me a '•'disconsolate widow.” Upon which, she began to mourn so piteously, that the whole assembly -^sympathized-in her forlorn condition. 19. “He has committed a million of murders,” cried the spider. “He drowns all my kittens,” mewed the eat. “He tramples upon me without mercy,” whispered the toad, “only because I’m no beauty.” “He is a treacherous, cunning villain,” barked the fox. “ He has no more mercy than a wolf,” screamed the hawk. “Ho is a bloody tyrant,” croaked the eagle. “He is the com- mon enemy of all nature, and deserves a hundred and fifty thousand deaths,” exclaimed they all in one voice. 5th R. — 12 138 new fifth header. 20. I began to be heartily ashamed of myself, and was casting about how I might slip away from hearing these pleasant +reproaches; but curiosity and listlessness to- gether kept me quiet, while they continued to +discus8 the best mode of destroying the tyrant. There was, as is usual in such cases, great +diversity of opinion. 21. “I ’ll bury my talons in his brain,” said the eagle. “ I ’ll tear his eyes out,” screamed the hawk. “ I ’ll whip him to death with my tail,” barked the fox. “I ’ll sting him home,” hissed the rattlesnake. “I’ll poison him,” said the spider. “ I’ll fly-blow him,” buzzed the fly. “ I’ll drown him, if he’ll only come into my brook, so I will,” quoth the trout. 22. “ I will drag him into my hole, and do his business there, I warrant,” said the ant ; and thereupon there was a giggle among the whole set. “And 111 111 said the worm. “ What will you do, you poor Satan ?” exclaimed the rest in a titter. “ What will I do ? Why I’ll eat him after he’s dead,” replied sir worm ; and then he strutted about, until he +unwarily came so near that he slipped into the brook, and was snapped up in a moment by the trout. 23. The example was ^contagious. “ Oh, ho! you are for that sport,” mewed the cat, and clawed the trout be- fore he could get his head under water. “ Tit for tat,” barked Eeynard, and snatching pussy in his teeth, was off like a shot. “ Since ’t is the fashion,” said the spider, <= I ’ll have a crack at that same blue-bottle,” and there- upon he nabbed the poor fly in a twinkling. “ By your leave, ’’said the toad, and snapped up the spider in less than no time. “ You ugly thief of the world,” hissed the rattlesnake in great wrath, and +indignantly laying hold of the toad, managed to swallow him about half way, where he lay in all his glory. 24. “ What a nice morsel for my poor fatherless ones,” cooed the dove, and pecking at the ant, was just flying away with it in quite a +sentimental style, when the hawk, seeing this, screamed out, “ what a pretty plump dove for a dinner I Providence has ‘•'ordained that I ECLECTIC SERIES. 139 Should eat her,” He was carrying her off, when the eagle darted upon him, and soaring to his aerie on the summit of an inaccessible rock, composedly made a meal of both hawk and dove. Then picking his teeth with his claws, he exclaimed with great complacency, “What a glorious thing it is to be king of birds !” 25.* “Humph,” exclaimed I, rubbing my eyes, for it seemed I had been half sleep, “humph, a man is not so much worse than his neighbors, after all,” and shaking off the spell that was over me, bent my steps homeward, ■‘‘wondering why it was, that it seemed as if all living things were created for the sole purpose of ‘‘‘preying on each other. Questions. — By what authority does man hold dominion over ani- mals ? Does this include the right to torture them, or to kill them unnecessarily ? Under what circumstances is it right to kill them ? On what account are the animals, in thi,® fable, supposed to be in- censed at man ? LESSON xxxvi;. 1. Gar^'-nered; adj. laid up, treasured. 3. Studs ; n. knobs, buds. 3. Cleav^-ing ; adj. dividing. 4. Rife; ac?/. fuM, abounding. 4. Dim^ples; * n. small depres- sions. 4. Am^-ber ; adj. yellow. APRIL DAY. Remark. — When reading poetry that rhymes, there should be a very slight pause after the words that are similar in sound, though the sense may not require it, as in the following example, where a slight pause may be made after the word rest^ which would not b#* made, if it were prose instead of poetry. Sweet it is, at eve to rest On the flowery meadow^s breast. Pronounce correctly. Do not say na4er for na-twre ; crea-tshurt for creat-wre ; ho for bough, (pro. bou) ; con-tin-ij-ous for con-tin- M-ous ; frag~i'ance for fra-grance. 1. All day, the low-hung clouds have dropped Their garnered fullness down ; 140 NEW FIFTH READER. All day, that soft, gray mist hath wrapt Hill, valley, grove, and town. There has not been a sound to-day. To break the calm of nature ; NTor motion, I might almost say. Of life or living creature ; Of waving +bough, or *^warbling bird. Or cattle faintly ^lowing ; I could have half believed I heard The leaves and blossoms growing. 2 I stood to hear — I love it well — The rain’s ’^continuous sound; Small drops, but thick and fast they fell, Down straight into the ground. For leafy thickness is not yet Earth’s naked breast to ’^’screen. Though every dripping branch is set With shoots of tender green. 3. Sure, since I looked, at early morn, Those ‘^honey-suckle buds Have swelled to double growth ; that thorn Hath put forth larger studs. That lilac’s cleaving '^'cones have burst. The milk-white flowers ’^revealing ; Even now upon my senses first, Methinks their sweets are stealing. 4 , The very earth, the steamy air. Are all with '^fragrance rife ! And grace and beauty every where Are bursting into life. Down, down they come, those ’‘'fruitful stores, Those earth -rejoicing drops ! A ‘‘'momentary '‘'deluge pours. Then thins, decreases, stops. And ere the dimples on the stream Have circled out of sight. ECLECTIC SERIES. 141 Lo I from the west, tx parting '^gleain Ereaks forth of amber light. Questions. — What season is described in this lesson ? What is said concerning the rain ? What, concerning the appearance of the earth’s surface? What is said of the trees and shrubs? What, of the light? At what pauses in this lesson is the rising inflection proper? V^'here, the falling inflection ? In the fourth stanza, which are the adjectives ? What does “rife” qualify? Parse “ stores ” and “ drops.” Which are the adverbs in the same stanza ? Which are the verbs ? Which of them are in the indicative mood? Which are in the present tense? Which, in a past tense? What interjection is there in this stanza? Why is the inter- jection so called ? See Pinneo’s Analytical Grammar, page 20, Art. 65. LESSON XXXVIll. 1. Tem^-pered; adj. softened. 3. E-the^-re-al ; adj. heavenly, • formed of ether. 3. Se-ren^-i-ty ; n. calmness, qui- etness. 3. Buot^-an-cy; n. (pro. hwoy-an- cy) lightness. 3. En-chant^-ment n. the use of spells or charms. 3. CoL-ON-NADES^ ; 71. TOWS of Col- umns. 3. Ra^-di-ance ; n. brightness. 4. Pa-vil^-ion; n. a tent, here a kind of tower on the top of the castle. 4. Par^-a-pe*t ; n. a wall or eleva- tion raised to keep off shot. 5. Cast^- A-NET ; n. an instrument of music made of hollowed ivory shells. 5. Cav-a-lier'' ; n. a gay military man, a knight. 6. Rev^-er-ie ; n. a loose, irregu- lar train of thought. THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. The palace or castle called the Alhambra, consists of the remains of a very extensive and ancient pile of buildings in Spain, erected by the Moors when they were rulers of the country. Articulate distinctly. . Do not say pro-duce for pro-ducec?; wich for wAich ; weri for w7ien ; per-fec-ly for per-fecHy ; wite-ness for w/.ite-ness ; sounds for Bounces ; paVces for pal-a-ces. 1. I HAVE given a picture of my '’’apartment on my first taking possession of it : a few evenings have produced a thorough change in the scene and in my feelings. The moon, which then was invisible, has gradually gained upon the nights, and now rolls in full 142 NEW FIFTH READER. ‘♦‘splendor above the towers, pouring a flood of tempered light into every court and hall. The garden beneath my window, is gently lighted up; the orange and citron trees are tipped with silver; the fountain sparkles in the moonbeams; and even the blush of the rose is faintly visible. 2. I have sat for hours at my window, ‘♦‘inhaling the sweetness of the garden, and musing on the '♦‘checkered features of those, whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant ‘♦‘memorials around. Sometimes, I have issued forth at midnight, when every thing was quiet, and have wandered over the whole building. Who can do justice to a moonlight night in such a climate, and in such a place? 3. The ‘♦‘temperature of an Andalusian midnight in summer, is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up into a purer atmosphere; there is a serenity of soul, a .buoy- ancy of spirits, an elasticity of frame, that render mere existence enjoyment. The effect of moonlight, too, on the Alhambra, has something like enchantment. Every rent and chasm of time, every ‘♦‘moldering tint and weather stain, disappears ; the marble resumes its ori- ginal whiteness; the long colonnades brighten in the moonbeams; the halls are illuminated with a softened radiance, until the whole ^edifice reminds one of the ■♦‘enchanted palace of an Arabian tale. 4. At such a time, I have ascended to the little pavil- ion, called the queen’s toilet, to enjoy its varied and extensive prospect. To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra ]!!^evada would gleam, like silver clouds, against the darker firmament, and all the outlines of the mountain would be softened, yet delicately defined. My delight, however, would be to lean over the parapet of Tecador, and gaze down upon Grenada, spread out like a raap below me; all buried in deep repose, and its white palaces and convents sleeping, as it were, in the moon- shine. 5. Sometimes, I would hear the faint sounds of casta- nets from some party of dancers lingering in the Ala ECLECTIC SERIES. 143 nieda; at other times, I have heard the •'dubioas notes of a guitar, and the notes of a single voice rising from some ^solitary street, and have pictured to myself some youthful cavalier, +serenading his lady’s window; a gal- lant ^custom of former days, but now sadly on the de- (dine, except in the '^remote towns and villages of Spain. 6. Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an hour loitering about the courts and balconies of the castle, enjoying that mixture of reverie and ^sensation which steal away existence in a southern climate, and it has been almost morning before I have retired to my bed, and been ^lulled to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. Questions. — ^IVliat and where is the Alhambra? Describe the effect of moonlight upon its appearance. Where are the mountains which are called Sierra Nevada? Where is Andalusia? What is the national instrument of the Spaniards ? LESSON XXXIX. 1. Wail'-ing; adj. lamenting, mourning. 1. Sear; adj, dry, withered. 3. Glade; n. an open place in the forest. 3. Glen ; n. a valley, a dale. THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. Pronounce correctly. Do not say mehun-chid-y for mel-an-choly ; mead^ers for mead-ot(?s; hol-luz for hol-loz4;5; heau-che-ous for beau-i^e-ous; up-lund for up-land; youth-f^l for youth-fwl; cole for cold; mois for mois^; frien for friend; Jlow-uz for flow-er^. 1. The ‘*’melai/choly days are come. The saddest of the year. Of wailing winds, and naked woods, And '’’meadows, brown and sear. Heaped in the hollows of the grove. The ^thered leaves lie dead; They rustle to the '’’eddying gust. And to the rabbit’s tread. The robin and the wren have flown, 144 NEW FIFTH READER. And from the shrub the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow Through all the gloomy day. 2. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, That lately sprang and stood In brighter light apd softer airs, A +beatiteou8 ^siSterhood? Alas! they all are in their graves j The gentle race of flowers. Are lying in their lowly beds, With the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie. But the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth The lovely ones again, 3. The wall-flower and the violet. They perished long ago. And the brier -rose and the ^orchis died Amid the summer's glow; But on the hill, the golden rod. And the aster in the wood. And the yellow sun-flower by the brooK In autumn beauty stood. Till fell the frost from the clear, cold heaven. As falls the plague on men. And the brightness of their smile was gone From ^upland, glade, and glen. 4. And nou\ when comes the calm, mild day. As still such days will come. To call the squirrel and the bee From out their winter home; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard. Though all the trees are still. And Hwinkle in the '^'smdiy light The waters of the *^1411, The south wind '^seafches for the flowers Whose '^'fragrance late he bore. And sighs to find them in the wood And by the stream no more. ECLECTIC SERIES. 145 5. And then I think of one, who in Her youthful beauty died, Ihe fair, myek ■*'l)Ms^5oni that grew up And ■^fidc’d by my side; In the cold, moist earth Vv^e laid her, When tlie forest cast the leaf, And we wept that one so lovely Should haje a life so ^brief: Yet not -^unmeet it was that one, Like that young friend of ours. So gentle ayd so -^beautiful. Should -^perish with the flowers. Questions.— What season of the year is described? What is said ^oods, and meadows? What animals are spoken of? What flowers? To what does the last stanza refer? LESSON O 1 . 8 . Req''-ui-site ; n, (pro. reh'-we-^ zit) that which is necessary. ’' tou-PER-iN-DU^ CED ; brought in as an addition. Ac-qut-si^-tions ; n. qualities obtained. Ay Per-wert^-ed I V, turned from right to wrong. 4. In-vtn^-ci-ble: adj. not to be overcome. 8. Crit^-i-cism ; n. the art of judging with propriety. » It must be borne in mind by the pupil, that in a large class of words of this description, the last two syllables are pronounced as one syllable. ON ELOCUTION AND READINCx. _ Pronounce correctly. Do not say el-er-quvnce for el-o-qucnce ; tn-val-ew-ble for in-val-w-a-ble; al-li-toods nor ai-ti-tshudes for at^ ti -finlcs ; or-ii-oiz for or-a-tors ; in-tel-lcct-ew-al for in-tel-lect-M-al : ani-tin-ew-al for con-tin-i^-al. Articulate each letter in the following words found in this lesson; Do not say mtis for mus<; leace for leasf; fanlce for faulfs; for sep-a-ra-ted ; chile for child ; presence for pre-senf.?; nex for ncKl; Ji-7ies tor &-nest ; per-fec for per-feef. 1. The business of training our youth in +el and heart^ of the nation, they can not be ; and the question to be decided is, can the nation, or the vast balance power of it, be so imbued with intelligence and virtue as to bring out, in laws and their administra- tion, a perpetual self-preserving energy. We know that the work is a vast one, and of great difficulty ; and yet we believe it can be done. 5. I am aware that our ablest patriots are looking out on the deep, vexed with storms, with great forebodings and failings of heart, for fear of the things that are com- ing upon us ; and I perceive a spirit of ^impatience ris- ing, and distrust in respect to the perpetuity of our republic ; and I am sure that these fears are well found- ed, and am glad that they exist. It is the star of hope m our dark +horfzon. Fear is what we need, as the shi]) needs wind on a rocking sea, after a storm, to prevent foundering. But when our fear and our efforts shall tcorrespond with our danger, the danger is past. 6. For it is not the impossibility of seif-preservation which threatens^ us ; nor is it the unwillingness of the nation to pay the price of the preservation' as she has NEW FIFTH KEADEK. 152 paid the price of tho purchase'^- of our liberties, li is in- attention aud inconsideration^ protracted till the crisis is past, and the things which belong to our peace are hid from our eyes. And blessed be God, that the tokens of a national waking up, the harbinger of God’s mercy, are multiplying upon us ! 7. We did not, in the darkest hour, believe that God had brought our fathers to this goodly land to lay the foundation of religious liberty, and wrought such won- ders in their preservation, and raised their descendants to such hights of civil and relmious liberty, only to re- verse the analogy of his +p)r6^dence, and abandon his work. 8. And though there now be clouds, and the sea roaring, and men’s hearts failing, we’ believe there is light behind the cloud, and that the imminence of our danger is intended, under the gui4a^nce of Heaven, to call forth and apply a holy, ^fraternal fellowship be- tween the East and the West, which shall secure our preservation, and make the '^'prosperity of our nation durable as time, and as abundant as the waves of the sea. 9. I would add, as a motiv^^ immediate action, that, if we do fail in our great '^experiment of self-government, our destruction will be as signal as the birthright aban- doned, the mercies abused, and the '^provocation offered to beneficent Heaven. The descent of desolation will correspond with the past elevation. 10. Ho punishments of Heaven are so severe as those for mercies abused^; and no instrumentality employed in their infliction is so dreadful as the wrath of man^. No spasms are like the spasms of expiring liberty, and no twailing such as her convulsions extort. 11. It took Rome three hundred years to die^; and our death, if we perish, will be as much more terrific, as our intelligence and free institutions have given us more bone,^sinew, and vitality. May God hide from me tlie day when the dying agonies of my country shall begin^! Oh, thou beloved land^, bound together by the ties of ECLECTIC SERIES. 153 brotlierhoocP, and common interest^, aad perils^! live forever — one and undivided^! Questions. — Wliy is education so necessary in this country? Can the nation continue free, without the influence of education and religion? Why should we regard the prospects of this nation with fear? What can be the advantage of a spirit of fear? Why maj we trust that God will not abandon our nation to ruin ? What wil^ insure her destruction? What is' said of the greatness of such a destruction? What are the most dreadful punishments that heaven can inflict upon a nation? How would our destruction compare with that of Rome? Give the reasons for the inflections marked in the 2d paragraph. (The principle of negative sentences prevails in this sentence.) In what mode, tense, number, and person, is “must educate,” in the first sentence ? In the 3d paragragh, for what noun does the pronoun “Aer” stand? Parse the last word in the lesson. LESSON XLIU.^J 2. 0^-NYx; n. a gem partly transparent. 2. Sap'-phire; n. (pro. sa/^-fer), a precious stone, blue, red, violet, &c. 2. Crys^-tal; n. a regular solid of any mineral. 2. Cor^-al; n. a kind of animal and its shell. [lowish color. 2. To^-paz; 71. a gem of a yel- 5. Ad-just^-ed; v. settled, re- duced to a right standard. 5. Pre-scri^bei); v. laid down as rules. TRUE WISDOM. Pronounce correctly. Do not say pur-chis^d for pur-chasM; for jew-els ; for cor-al ; dis-triic-tion for de-struc-tioru 1. Where shall ^'wisefom be foiind^? ,, And where is the place of '^understanding'"? Man knoweth not the price thereof; Nor can it be found in the land of the living. 2. The deep saith^, It is not with me^; And the sea saith^, It is not with me'^. It can not be gotten for gold, Nor shall silver be weighed out as the price thereof. It can not be ^purchased with the gold of Ophir, L54 NEW FIFTH KEADER. With the precious onyx, or the sapphire. Gold and crystal are not do be compared with it; Nor can it be purchased with jewels of fine gold. No mention shall be made of coral, or of pearls, For wisdom is more precious than rubies. The topaz of Ethiopia can not equal it ; Nor can it be purchased with the purest gold. 3. Whence, then, cometh'^ wisdom? ^ And where is"' the place of ‘‘'undeimanding ? Since it is hidden from the eyes of all the living, And kept close from the fowls of the air? 4. ■’'Destruction and Death say. We have heard of its fame with our ears. God only knoweth the way to it ; He only knoweth its dwelling-place. For he seeth to the ends of the earth. And ■’'suTveyeth all things under the whole heaven. 5. When he gave the winds their weight^, And adjusted the waters by measure^; When he prescribed laws to the rain^^ And a path to the ■’■glittS(ung '’'thunderbolt^; Then did he see it, and make it known^: He ■’'established it, and ■’'sea^ 7 1. Ail^'-ment; n. disease. X. Ten''-dered; V. offered. ,2. Stren^-u-ous-ly; adv. strongly. 3. Ve^-he-mence; n. violence. 3. Men''- ACE ; n. threat. 4. Mo-rose^-lt; adv. peevishly. 6. A-vid''-i-ty ; n. eagerness. 6. Al-tbr-ca-'-tion; n. dispute. 8. Oc''-u-lar; adj. by the eye. 8. Nui^-sance; n. something of- fensive. 9. Cha-grin''; n. vexation. 9. PoRT-MAN^-TEAu; 71. a valisc. 9. E-ma''-cta-ted ; adj. wasted. 10. Sa-tir^-i-cal; adj. bitter in language. ILL-NATURE REWARDED. Pronounce correctly. Do not say bridliuz for broth-6r5 / fort- nitly for fort-w-nate-ly ; uppearunce for «p-pear-ance ; deVkii for del-z-cate ; ohvously for ob-vz-ous-ly ; tremendu-ous for tre-men-doiis. 1. Two gentlemen, brothers, called at the oflS(?l^to take seats for the following morning, in the Kilkenny coach ; there were fortunately two inside places ’’'vacant. The elder brother was, from his appearance, ’’ obviously suffering under some ’’'oppressive ailment, and the other, ECLECTIC SERIES. 163 in ratlicr a delicate state of health. Between the two there happened to be not more cash than was sufficient to pay for one passenger; the second brother said he would bring the fare with him in the morning and went away. In a short time after, another person came into the office, asked for a seat in the coach, tendered his money, '•'insisted on the strict rules being observed, and was booked accordingly. 2. The next morning, an hour before day, the broth- ers arrived. The '•'invalid got in, and the other, putting down his fare was told that the place was filled by one who had paid his money, and who threatened that, if refused his place, he would hire a chaise for the whole journey to Dublin, at the expense of the coach Lpropri- etors. The young man looked into the coach, and find- ing all seats occupied, begged, and was strenuously supported by his brother, to be admitted, even for a stage or two, as he was not in good health, and the rain poured down in a tremendous '•'deluge. 3. The rest of the coach company seemed to yield, but the stiff gentleman was contrary, as will sometimes happen, and with his former menace silenced the agent, (who was leaning to the side of mercy), and insisted with increased vehemence, that the rules of the office should be observed. 4. The strict person was owner of a great flour-mill; ho was anything but a '^jolly miller, but adhered lite- rally and morosely to the principle of “ caring for no- body,” not because “nobody cared for him,” but because it was the habit of his life to make every liberal thought and kind intention, which accidentally arose in his mind, like worldly charity, to begin at home, and center in himself. 5. He was wrapped up in his milling '•'operations, and eyed his bags of flour with the same avidity as a miser would those of his gold. He was that sort of self- ish and self-sufficient person, that would not take any moderate boot between the prime minister and himself, and thought the '•'machinery of the state of little impor- 164 NEW FIFTH READER. canoe, compared with that of his own mill. He ordered the coachman to get forward, with some further menace if he did not. 6. The young man, after a little altercation, took his seat beside the guard, and the coachman drove off. It was still dark; the rain was intense, the voices ceased, and the invalid, if a gentle snore was any *^indication, had fallen asleep. 7. As the coach was passing through Fox and Geese Common, a barking cur assailed the horses, and was apparently H*esponded to by a low growl from the ■^interior of the '^vehicle. “ Is there a dog in the coach ? ” asked the miller, for it was yet pitch dark. Those who were awake said they could not tell : the invalid breathed hard and snored ; in a few minutes the growl was heard again, advancing to a sharper snarl. Have you got a dog in the coach?” asked the miller: “it is contrary to all rule; the agent is at fault, and shall be fined; it shall be looked to when the coach stops.” 8. A renewed snarl and a few chopping barks from the opposite seat where the invalid was placed, made the miller certain that the dog belonged to him, and lay behind his legs. Not wishing, however, to put out his hand, or even his foot, to make the trial, he waited for daylight '^impatiently, and one or two succeeding growls from the same quarter confirmed him in this *^surmise. At length a tedious dawn gave way to the slowly in- creasing light of a gloomy morning. The miller had his eye fixed upon the spot, and as objects became less '^en- veloped in shade, he chuckled at having ocular proof of the nuisance which he determined to complain of ard get rid of at the next stage. 9. There lay the dog, as he conceived, behind his master’s legs. But what was his disappointment and chagrin, when through the breaking clouds, a strong gleam of light fell not upon — the dog of his *<*1 magi nation — but on a small portmanteau belonging to the invalid, who at the sudden burst of light which had surprised and disappointed the miller, opened his e^^es, keen, ECLECTIC SERIES. 165 sharp, and ■’'penetrating, but sunk deep in a 2 )ale and emaciated countenance. 10. “You have been asleep,” said the miller. “Have I?” was the repl}^. “Have you a dog in the coach?” “No.” “Hid you not hear any growling or snarling in the coach?” “I did at setting off.'' “From what quarter did you hear it?” “From yourself, growling about strict rules.” “You are satirical, but we have heard a dog in the coach, and it shall not remain; you were asleep.” “So you say.” “You snored in your sleep.” “May be so.” “Do you ever growl, or snarl, or bark in your sleep?” “It is not improbable; I have not been very well; but Doctor Middleton tells me I am cured.” 11. “Do you say Middleton? that’s the mad doctor.” “He’s a very good doctor, and I’ll thank him the longest day I live.” The miller in some little alarm, asked in a milder tone, “Were you in the house?” “I was, for three months, and he '’'performed a great cure for me.” “May I ask,” said the now '’'subdued miller, “what was the nature of your '’'malady?” “Why, if you must know,” replied the invalid, “it was neither, more nor less than the bite of a mad dog.” 12. “Save us,” said the miller; “and did the doctor cifcct a perfect cure?” “He did, and sent me out yes- terday, to return to my native air, saying that the trifling ’’'symptom of snarling like a dog, which, perhaps may have '’’annoyed you in my sleep, will gradually wear away, and does not signify, as I have done no mischief for the last month, and he was sure that going back to my family would quiet my mind and set all right.” ^ 13. The miller s countenance now '’'exhibited a strong ^expression of terror ; he looked '’' wistfully out of the window, and lamented the teeming rain which pre- vented him from enjoying a seat outside. At this moment, the invalid was affected by a ’’'tremendous fit of snarling and barking, resembling so perfectly the canine expression of the most furious '’'irritation, that the miller under the strongest expression of alarm, was about to 166 NEW FIFTH READER. get out of the coach, when the invalid, seizing him by his coat, grinned at him, and exhibited a set of deformed teeth, barking ^vehemently for some minutes, and then subsiding into a perfect calm, entreated the terrified miller not to bo in the least alarmed, that it was all over, and that he might depend on there being no danger whatever. 14. Ey this time the coach had arrived at Elack Church. The rain was rather heavier and more ‘^perpen- dicular in its ■^desceftt. During the change of horses, the feverish miller called for a glass of spring water, which, when presented to him at the carriage window, was instantly dashed to pieces by the sufPerer, Who recommenced the most terrific barkings and snarlings, accompanied by grinnings and "^gestures trhe most frightful, through all of which he roared to the miller to be under no alarm, that it would not signify, that Doctor Middleton had told him so, that he had bitten no one for six weeks, and that he would be quiet again in a few minutes. 15. But the trembling miller, determined not to trust him, Dr. Middleton, or the nature of his "^disorder, jumped out of the coach, called for a chaise, and posted on alone. As he drove ofP, the invalid putting his head out of the window, invited his brother into the vacant seat, which he enjoyed for the remainder of a ‘^'drench- ing day, to the mirth of the passengers, (previously made acquainted with the trick), and to the still further ■’‘annoyance of the miller, whom they passed on the road, and who was saluted by both brothers with a familiar nod of '’‘humorous sarcasm, and an exclamation from both: “You should observe strict rules.” Questions. — Relate the occurrence here described. What is the subject of the last sentence, “You should observe strict rules ? ” What is the attribute EXERCISE XXI. The leaves swell and spread in all directions. No sprawling nor drawling. Scruples of delicacy caused him to shrink. The death shroud fell upon the shrine of his idolatry. ECLECTIC SEIUES. 167 LESSON XLVIII. 1. Trow; v. suppose, think. 1. Trap'-pings; n. ornaments. 2. Im^-be-cile; n. (pro. a sick person. 3. In-ter-ve^ned ; v. situated be- tween. 4. Tint^-ings; n. colorings. 5. Sti^-fled; v. suppressed. IT SNOWS. Hemark; — Avoid reading in a faint and low tone. This is a very common fault and should be carefully guarded against. Pronounce correctly. Do not say iron for trow (pro. tro); geth-uz for gath-ers; to~ward^ for to ward; im-heerd for un- heard (pro. un-herd). 1. ‘‘It snows!” cries the School-boy, “ Hurrah 1” and his shout Is ringing through parlor and hall, While swift as the wing of a swallow, he’s out. And his playmates have answered his call ; It makes the heart leap but to witness their joy. Proud wealth has no pleasures, I trow. Like the ^rapture that throbs in the pulse of the boy, As he gathers his "^treasures of snow ; Then lay not the trappings of gold on thine heirs, While health, and the riches of nature, are theirs. 2. “It snows!” sighs the Imbecile, “Ah!” and his breath Comes heavy, as '•'clogged with a weight ; While, from the pale '•'aspect of nature in death. He turns to the blaze of his grate ; And nearer and nearer, his soft-cushioned chair Is wheeled toward t^ life-giving flame ; He dreads a chill puff of the snow-burdened air. Lest it wither his '•'delicate frame ; Oh ! small is the pleasure '•'existence can give. When the fear we shall die only proves that we live I 3. “ItsnowS!” cries the Traveler, “Ho!” and tho word Has quickened his steed’s '•'lagging pace ; 168 NEV/ FIFTH READER. The wind rushea by, but its howl is unbeard, Unfelt the sharp drift in his face; For bright through the tempest his own liome appeared, Ay, though leagues intervened, he can see: There’s the clear, glowing hearth, and the table prepared, And his wife with her babes at her knee; Blest thought! how it lightens the grief-laden hour, That those we love dearest are safe from its power! 4. “It snows!” cries the Belle, “Dear, how lucky !” and turned From her mirror to watch the flakes fall. Like the first rose of summer, her ‘^’dimpled cheek burns. While musing on sleigh-ride and ball : There are visions of conquests, of ^splendor, and mirth, Floating over each drear winter’s day ; But the tintings of Hope, on this storm-beaten earth. Will melt like the snowflakes awaj" : Turn, turn thee to Heaven, fair maiden, for bliss ; That world has a pure Hount ne’er opened in this. 5. “It snows!” cries the WidoWj “Oh, God!” and her sighs Have stifled the voice of her prayer; Its burden ye ’ll read in her tear-swollen eyes. On her cheek sunk with fasting and care. ’T is night, and her fatherless ask her for bread. But “He gives the young ravens their food,” And she trusts, till her dark hearth adds '^horror to dread, And she lays on her last chip of wood. Poor ■^sufferer ! that sorrow thy God only knows ; ’ TJs a most bitter lot to be poor, when it snows! Questions. — Why does the school-boy rejoice when it snows? What feelings are excited in the sick man by the snow storm? What effect does it have upon the traveler, and what does he think about? Why does the belle congratulate herself, and of what are her dreams ? What are the poor widow’s troubles in a time like this? KCLEOTIC SERIES. 1C)9 LESSON XLIX. 1 l)is-As'-TERS ; n. unfortunate events. N. 1. In-tre-pid^-it-y ; 7^. courag^. 2 Teiy^-i-al ; adj. trifling, small 8. Rift^-ed ; V. split open. 8. Ten^-drils ; n. the claspers of a vine. 3. Sol^-ace; n. comfort in grief. 3. Re-cEs^-ses; n. retirement, se- cresy. 4. En-thu^-si-asm ; n, warmth of feeling. 5. Re-trieve^; v. to repair, to restore to a good state. THE WIFE. Pronounce correctly. Do not say for4i4chude for for-tit-ude ; for4en nor for4sliune for fort-wne ; Prov-i-dunce for Prov-i-dence ; con-grat4y4a4ing for con-grat-w-la-ting ; sit-oo-a4ion nor sit-shu-a- tlon for sit-if-a-tion ; stim~my-la~ted nor stim-er4a4ed nor stim- ew4a-ted for stim-w-la-ted (pro. stim-yu-la-ted). 1. I HAVE often had occasion to remark the tfortitnde with which women sustain the most ^overwhelming re- verses of fortune. Those disasters which break down the spirit of a man, and prostrate him in the dust, seem to call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and give such intrepidity and elevation to their character, that, at times, it approaches to sublimity. 2. Nothing can be more touching, than to behold a soft and tender female, who had been all weakness and ^dependence, and alive to every trivial *^roughness, while treading the prosperous paths of life, suddenly rising in mental force to be the comforter and supporter of her husband under misfortune, and abiding, with unshrink- ing firmness, the most bitter blasts of "^adversity. 3. As the vine, which has long twined its graceful ^foliage about the oak, and been lifted by it into sun- shine, will, when the hardy plant is rifted by the +thun- derbolt, cling around it with its caressing tendrils, and bind up its +sha.ttered boughs ; so it is beautifully or- dered by Providence, that woman, who is the mere dependent and ornament of man in his happier hours, should be his stay and solace, when smitten with sudden 5th R.— 15 170 NETT FIFTH PwEADEK calamity^ ; winding herself into the '^'rugged recesses of his nature^, tenderly supporting the drooping head^, and binding up the broken heart^. 4. I was once congratulating a friend, who had around him a blooming family, knit together in the strongest ■‘'affection. I can wish you no better lot,” said he, with enthusiasm^, “ than to have a wife and children. If you are prosperous, there they are to share'^ your pros- perity ; if otherwise^, there they are to comfort^ you.” 5. And, indeed, I have observed, that a married' man, falling into misfortune, is more apt to retrieve his situa- tion in the world than a single'^ one ) partly, because he is more '‘'stimulated to exertion by the '‘'necessities of the helpless and beloved beings who depend upon him for ^subsistence^ ; but chiefly, because his spirits are soothed and relieved by domestic '‘'endearments, and his self- respect kept alive by finding, that, though all abroad is darkness and humiliation, yet there is still a little world of love at home, of which he is the tmonarch^. 'Whereas, a single man is apt to run to waste and self-neglect, to fancy himself lonely and abandoned, and his heart to fall to ruin, like some deserted '‘‘mansion, for want of an inhabitant. Questions. — To what natural object is female fortitude beautifully compared ? hy should a man have a Tamily ? What is apt to be the case with the single man, as to character and comfort? Give rules for the inflections. To Teachers. — The words marked thus for spelling and defi- nition, should by no means be passed over by the teacher. The pupil should be required to spell and define them, giving them that definition which is appropriate in the connection in which they are used. EXERCISE XXII. We traveVd through extensive tracts of territonj. The transi- tion was extreme and sudden. Proofs of the crime of an irrefraga- ble nature produced. The tragic nature of the scene seemed rather attractive than repulsive. KCLECTIC SICRIES. 171 LESSON L.J I Ter'-race,* n. a raised bank of earth. 8. Broid^-ered; v , adorned with figures of needle work. 3. Em-'-e-rald; n. a gem of pure lively grefen color (used here as an adjective). 3. Al^-a-bas-ter; n. a soft, white marble. 3. Cor'-o-net; n. a little crown. 5. DtT-cAL ; adj. pertaining to a duke. 6. Heir''-loom ; n. any article which by law descends to the heir with the real estate. 7. De-co^-rum; n, propriety of behavior. 7. Lus''-ter; n. brightness. 8. Pan^-ic; n. sudden alarm. 10. Quest; n. search. 11. Leg^-a-cy; n. what is left by will. 12. Am^-bush; n. a concealed' place. GINEVRA. Pronounce correctly. Reg-gi-o, pro. red-je-o; fount-ains, pro. fount-ins. Do not say sta-clioos for stat-ites ; sets for sits ; for-ud for io^-ward; in-ner-sunt for in-no-cent; haunt for haunt, (pro. haunt); mel-er-dy for mel-o-dy; dn-cient for an-cient; i-ver-ry fcr i-vo-ry ; fast-en-ed, pro. fas^rdd. 1. If ever you should come to Modena, Stop at a palace near the Eeggio gate, Dwelt in of old by one of the Donati. Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace. And rich in ^fountains, '‘'statues, '‘'cypresses. Will long detain^ you; hut, before you go^. Enter the house^ — forget it not, I pray^ you ; And look awhile upon a picture there. 2. 'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth. The last of that '‘'illustrious family ; Done by Zampieri; but by whom I care not. He, who observes it, ere he passes on Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again, That ho may call it up when far away. 3 She sits, inclining forward as to speak, Her lips half open, and her finger up. 172 NEW FIFTH READER. As though she said^, Beware^!” her vest of gold, Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot; An emerald stone in every golden clasps ; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, ^ A coronet of pearls^. 4. But then her face. So lovely^, yet so arch^, so full of mirth. The overflowings of an innocent heart; It '^'haunts^me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild '^'melody ! 5. Alone it hangs Over a ‘^'moldering heirloom; its companion. An oaken chest, half eaten by the worm. But richly carved by Antony of Trent, With scripture stories from the life of Christ; A chest that came from Yenice, and had held The ducal robes of some old ^ancestors — That by the way, it may be true^ or false^ — But do n’t forget the picture ; and you will not. When you have heard the tale they told me there. C She was an only child, her name Ginevra, The joy, the pride of an indulgent father; And in her fifteenth year became a bride. Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria, Her playmate from her birth, and her first love. 7. Just as she looks there, in her '^bridal dress, She was all gentleness, all gayety. Her pranks the favorite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day, the hour ; How, frowning, smiling for the hundredth time. The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum ; And, in the luster of her youth, she gave Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco^. 8. Great was the joy^; but at the nuptial feast. When all sat down, the bride herself was wanting; Nor she to be found! Her farther cried, KOLECTIC SERIES. 17 “’T is but to make a trial of our love!” And filled his glass to all ; but his hand shook, And soon from guest to guest the panic spread. 9 ’T was but that instant she had left Frances'co, Laughing and looking back and flying still, Her ivory, tooth '•'imprinted on his finger. But now, alas ! she was not to be found ; Hor from that hour could any thing be guessed, But that she was not 1 to Weary of his life, Francesco flew to Yenice, and '•'embarking, Flung it away in battle with the Turk. Donati lived^; and long might you have seen An old man wandering as in quest of something. Something he could not find, he knew not what. When he was gone, the house remained awhile Silent and tenantless ; then went to strangers. 11. Full fifty years were past, and all forgotten. When on an idle day, a day of search ’Mid the old '•'lumber in the gallery. That moldering chest was noticed; and ’twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, “Why not remove'^ it from its lurking place?” ’Twas done as soon as said; but on the way It bursY, it felF; and lo! a '^skeleton>^ With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone, A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold. All else had perished, save a wedding ring. And a small seal, her mother’s legacy, ■•'Engraven with a name, the name of both ; “Ginevra.” 12 — There then had she found a grave: Within that chest had she concealed herself. Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; When a '•'springlock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever 1 Questions. — Where is Modena? Relate this story. J74 «13W FIFTH READER. LESSON LI. ,/ 2. A-lac'-ri-ty; cheerful readi- ness. 2. E-las^-tic; adj. rebounding, springing back. 4. Vi-cis'-si-tude; n. change, rev- olution. 6. ScRU^-PU-LOUs; adj. careful, nicely doubtful. 5. In-teg^-ri-ty ; n. honesty of purpose. 7. Mea^-ger; adj. small, scanty. 7. Streami-let; n. a little stream, a brook. 7. Im-ped^-i-ment; n. hinderance. 7. IIav''-oc; n. wide destruction. 7. Ca-reer^; n. course. DECISIVE INTEGRITY. Give the r its rolling sound in the following words in this lesson: strongest, approbation, secret, afraid, alacrity, brilliant, right, free, erect, heroic, phrase, pride, constrain, private, scrupu- lous, integrity, drives, morality, greatness, streamlets, presents, torrent, purity. 1. The man who is so conscious of the rectitude of his intentions, as to be willing to open his bosom to the inspection of the world, is in possession of one of the strongest pillars of a decided character. The course of such a man will be firm and steady, because he has nothing to fear from the world, and is sure of the ■•'approbation and support of heaven. While he, who is conscious of secret and dark designs, which, if known, would blast him, is perpetually shrinking and dodging from public observation, and is afraid of all around, and much more of all above him. 2. Such a man may, indeed, pursue his iniquitous plans steadily; he may waste himself to a skeleton in the guilty pursuit; but it is impossible that he can pursue them with the same health-inspiring tconfidence and exulting alacrity with him who feels, at every step, that he is in the pursuit of honest ends, by honest means. The clear, unclouded brow, the open countenance, the brilliant eye, which can look an honest man steadfastly, yet '•'courteously, in the face, the healthfully beating heart, aud the firm, elastic step, belong to him whoso KCLECTIC SEKIES. 175 4 bosom is free from guile^ and who knows that all his \ purposes are pure and right, v-x 3. Why should such a man falter in his course? He may he tslandered; he may bo deserted by the world; out ho has that within which will keep him erect, and enable him to move onward in his course, with his eyes fixed on heaven, which he knows will not desert him. 4. Let your first step, then, in that -^discipline which is to give you decision of character, be the heroic deter- mination to be honest men, and to preserve this charac- ter through every vicissitude of fortune, and in every relation which connects you with society. I do not use this phrase, “honest men,” in the narrow sense merely of meeting your "^pecuniary engagements, and paying your debts; for this the common pride of gentlemen will constrain you to do. 5. I use it in its larger sense of -^discharging all your ^ duties, both public and private, both open and secret, with the most scrupulous, -^heaven-attesting integrity; in that sense, further, which drives from the bosom all little, dark, crooked, sordid, debasing "^-considerations of self, and substitutes in their place a bolder, loftier, and nobler spirit; one that will dispose you to consider your- selves as born, not so much for yourselves, as for your country and your fellow-creatures, and which will lead you to act, on every occasion, sincerely, justly, gener- ously, -^magnanimously. 6. There is a morality on a larger scale, perfectly consistent with a just attention to your own affairs, which it would be the hight of folly to neglect: a gener- ous expansion, a proud elevation and conscious greatness of character, which is the best preparation for a decided course, in every situation into which you can be thrown ; and it is to this high and noble tone of character that I would have you to '♦'aspire. 7. I would not have you resemble those weak and meager streamlets, which lose their '♦"direction at every petty impediment which presents itself, and stop, and turn back, and creep around, and search out every little 176 NEW FIFTH READER. ^■uliannel tlirougli which they may wind their feeble and sickly course. Nor yet would I have you resemble the headlong torrent that carries havoc in its mad career. 8. Eut I would have you like the ocean, that noblest emblem of ‘’'majestic decision, which, in the calmest hour, still heaves its resistless might of waters to the i^hore, filling the heavens, day and night, with the echoes of its sublime declaration of independence, and tossing and sporting on its bed, with an ’’'imperial ■’'consciousness of strength that laughs at ‘’'opposition. It is this depth, and weight, and power, and purity of character, that I would have you to resemble; and 1 would have you, like the waters of the ocean, to become the purer by your own action. Questions. — What is said of the man who is conscious of the recti tude of his intentions? What of the man of the opposite description? What is the first step in gaining decision of character? What would the author not have you resemble? What would he have you like? LESSON LII . 1. Prec''-e-dent; n. something that serves for an example. 2. Pro-cras-ti-na^-tion; n, de- / lay. 8. Palm; ti. victory. 4. Driv^-el ; V. to be foolish. 4. Re-ver^'-sion ; n, right to fu- ^ ture possession. 4. Vails ; n. money given to ser- vants. here means that which may be spent for plea- sure. This word is obsolete^ that iSj it is not now used.) 5. Dil^-a-tory; adj. slow, delay- ^ ing. 6. Chides; v. reproves. PROCRASTINATION. s Articulate distinctly. Do not say jprec'dent for prec-e-dont; pro-crasfna-tion for pro-cras-ti-na-tion ; e4er-n^l for e-ter-nal ; mi- racoons for mi-rac-w-lous ; extent for ex-cel-lent ‘s^pec^s for sus- pects ; in-f^mous for in-fa-mous. 1. Ee wise to day. ’Tis madness to ’’‘defer: Next day the ’’’fatal precedent will plead ; Thus on, till wisdom is pushed out of life. ECLECTIC SERIES. 177 2. Procrastination is tlio thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment, leaves The vast ’’’concerns of an ’’’eternal scene. If not so frequent, would not this be strange ? That ’t is so frequent, this is stranger still. 3. Of man’s ’’’miraculous mistakes, this hears The palm, that all men are about to live, Forever on the ’’’brink of being born. 4. All pay themselves the ’’’compliment to think They one day shall not drivel ; and their pride On this reversion takes up ready praise. At least their own: their future selves ’’’applaud; How excellent that life they ne’er will lead ! Time lodged in their own hands is folly’s vails ; That lodged in fate’s, to wisdom they ’’’consign : The thing they can’t but purpose, they ’’’postpone, 5. ’Tis not in folly not to scorn a fool; And scarce in human wisdom to do more. All promise is poor dilatory man. And that through dVery stage: when young indeed, In full content, we sometimes nobly rest Unanxious for ourselves: and only wish. As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. 6. At thirty, man ’’’suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and ’’’reforms his plan ; At fifty, chides his ’’’infamous delay. Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the ’’’magnanimity of thought Eesolves ; and ’’’re-resolves ; then dies the same. Questions — Name some of the evils of procrastination? What, of all things, are men most apt to defer ? EXERCISE XXIII. Pnceless was the offering. The wound was thoroughly proVd. Principle may not he profitable. The hooks are printed. Spring flings her rosy mantle o^er the plains. The rowers ply their weary oars. 178 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON LIII.: 2 Pro-pel^; v. to push forward. 3. En-gin-eer^; 7i. one who mana- ges engines. 3. Steam^-gauge ; n. something which measures the force of the steam. 3. ScRU^-Ti-Ni-zEs; V. examines closely. 4. PoN^-DER-ous; adj. very heavy. 4. Pis^-ton; n. a short cylinder used in pumps and engines. 6. CoM^-PLi-cA-TED ; iidj. intricate. 5. n. the smaller particulars. 6. Fric^-tion; n. rubbing. 10. Mo-ment^-um; n. the quantity of motion. 11. Sym^-dgl; 71. type or emblem. 11. Res-er-voir^; n. (pro. rez-er- vwor^) a place where any thing is kept in store. 13. Sus-cep-ti-bil^-i-ties; n. ca- pacity for receiving impres- sions. THE STEAMBOAT TRIAL. Remark. — Do not let the voice grow weaker at the last words of a sentence. Pronounce correctly. Do not say ac-ieio-al for act-w-al ; neer for en-gin-eer ; hi4er for boil-er ; fas^nings for fas^-en-ings ; mom-munce for move-ments ; in-gine for en-gine (pro. en-gin); jint for joint; He for oil; fur-mss for fur-nace; gov-uns for gov-07ms. ^ 1. The Bible everywhere ^conveys the idea that this life is not our home, but a state of ‘’’probation, that is, of trial and ’^discipline., which is intended to prepare us for another. In order that all, even the youngest of my readers, may understand what is meant by this, I shall tillustrate it by some familiar examples, drawn from the actual business of life. 2. When a large steamboat is built, with the inten- tion of having her employed upon the waters of a great river, she must be proved before put to service. Before trial, it is somewhat doubtful whether she will succeed. In the first place, it is not absolutely certain whether her ■’‘machinery will work at all. There may be some flaw in the iron, or an imperfection in some part of the ^workmanship, which will prevent the motion of her wheels. Or, if this is not the case, the power of the ma- ELECTIC SERIES. 179 chineiy may not bo sufficient to propel her through the water with such force as to overcome the current; or she may, when brought to encounter the rapids at some narrow passage in the stream, not be able to force her way against their resistance. 3. The engineer, therefore, resolves to try her in all these respects, that her '^'security and her power may be properly proved^ before she is ‘^'intrusted with her valu- able cargo of human lives. He cautiously builds a fire under her boiler: he watches with eager interest the rising of the steam-gauge, and scrutinizes every part of the machinery, as it gradually comes under the control of the tremendous power, which he is '^’apprehensively applying. 4. With what interest does he observe the first stroke of the ponderous j)iston ! and when, at length, the fas- tenings of the boat are let go, and the motion is '^com- municated to the wheels, and the mighty mass slowly moves away from the wharf, how deep and eager an interest does he feel in all her movements, and in every indication he can discover of her future success I 5. The engine, however, works imperfectly, as every one must on its first trial; and the object in this '‘’experi- ment is not to gratify idle curiosity, by seeing that she' will move, but to discover and remedy every little im- perfection, and to remove every obstacle which pre- vents more entire success. For this purf)Ose, you will see our engineer examining, most minutely and most attentively, every part of her complicated machinery. The crowd on the wharf may bo simply gazing on her majestic progress as she moves off from the shore, but the engineer is within, looking with faithful '‘’examina- tion into all the minutiae of the motion. G. He scrutinizes the action of every lever and the friction of every joint; here, he oils a bearing, there, ho tightens a nut: one part of the machinery has too much play, and ho confines it; another, too much friction, and ho loosens it; now, he stops the engine, now, reverses her motion, and again, sends the boat forward in h^- 180 NEW FIFTH READER. course. He discovers, perhaps, some great improve- ment of which she is ‘‘'susceptihle, and when he returns to the wharf and has extinguished her fire, he orders from the machine-shop the necessary alteration. 7. The next day he puts his boat to the trial again, and she glides over the water more smoothly and swiftly than before. The jar which he had noticed is gone, and the friction reduced; the beams play more smoothly, and the *^alteration which he has made produces a more eguable motion in the '^shaft, or gives greater effect to the stroke of the paddles upon the water. 8. When at length her motion is such as to satisfy him upon the smooth surface of the river, he turns her course, we will imagine, toward the rapids, to see how she will sustain a greater trial. As he increases her steam, to give her power to overcome the new force ^ with which she has to contend, he watches, with eager interest, her boiler, inspects the gauge and safety- valves, and, from her movements under the increased pressure of her steam, he receives suggestions for fur- ther improvements, or for '^'precautions which will insure greater safety. 9. These he executes, and thus he perhaps goes on for many days, or even weeks, trying and examining, for the purpose of improvement, every working of that mighty power, to which he knows hundreds of lives are soon to be intrusted. This now is probation ; trial for the sake of improvement. And what are its '^results? Why, after this course has been thoroughly and faith fully pursued, this floating palace receives upon her broad deck, and in her carpeted and curtained cabin, her four or five hundred passengers, who pour along in one long procession of happy groups, over the bridge of planks; father and son, mother and children, young husband and wife, all with '‘‘implicit confidence trusting themselves and their dearest interests to her power. 10. See her as she sails away ! How beautiful and yet how powerful are all her motions ! That beam glides up and down gently and smoothly in its '‘’grooves, and ECLECTIC SERIES. 181 yet gentle as it seems, hundreds of horses could not hold it still ; there is no apparent violence, hut every move- ment is with irresistible power. How graceful is her form and yet. how mighty is the momentum with which she presses on her way ! 11. Loaded with life, and herself the very symbol of life and power, she seems something '’'ethereal, unreal, which, ere we look again, will have vanished away. And though she has within her bosom a furnace glowing with furious fires, and a reservoir of death, the elements of most dreadful ruin and conflagration, of destruction the most complete, and agony the most '’'unutterable ; and though her strength is equal to the united energy of two thousand men, she restrains it all. 12. She was '’'constructed by genius, and has been tried and improved by fidelity and skill ; and one man gov- erns and controls her, stops her and sets her in motion, turns her this way and that, as easily and certainly as the child guides the gentle lamb. She walks over the one hundred and sixty miles of her route, without rest and without '’'fatigue ; and the passengers, who have slept in safety in their berths, with destruction by water without, and by fire within, defended only by a plank from the one, and by a sheet of copper from the other, land, at the appointed time in safety. 13. My reader, you have within you susceptibilities and powers, of which you have little present conception ; energies, which are hereafter to operate in producing fullness of enjoyment or horrors of suffering, of which you now can form scarcely a conjecture. You are now on triaL God wishes you to prepare yourself foT safe and happy action. He wishes you to look within, to ex- amine the complieated movements of your hearts, to detect what is wrong, to '’'modify what needs change, and to '’'rectify every irregular motion. 14. You go out to try your moral powers upon the stream of active life, and then return to retirement, to improve what is right, and '’'remedy what is wrong. Renewed opportunities of moral practice are given you, 182 NEAY FIFTH READER. that you may go on from strength to strengtn, until every j^art of that complicated moral machinery, of which the human heart consists, will work as it ought to work, and is prepared to ^accomplish the mighty pur- poses for which your powers are designed. You are on trial j on probation now. You will enter upon active ser vice in another world. Questions. — How does the Bible consideij this life ? ^ AVhat is a state of probation? AVhat is meant by proving a steamboat? What is the use of doing this ? Is there any resemblance between man and a steamboat ? EXERCISE XXIY. Thou sJied^st a sunshine on his head. The brown forests. Hop*st thou for gifts like these ? Or ever thou liad^st formed the ear^ii. I have received pmen/5. LESSON LIV. 1. Vas^'-sal; n, a servant, a sub- ject. 1. Scep^-ter; n. a kind of staff borne by kings as a sign of royalty. 2. Throng; n. a crowd, a great multitude. 8. Her^-ald-ed ; v. introduced as if by a herald. 8. Rue ; v. to regret deeply. 4. Ran^-somed; adj. rescued fr(?m death or captivity by paying an equivalent. 5. Gor^-geous ; adj. showy, splen- did. 5. Mar^-tyr ; n. one who suffers death in defense of what he believes to be truth. A DIRGE. Remark. — Observe the poetic pauses in the following lines, viz.: one at the end, and one near the middle of each line. Articulate distinctly. Do not say duss for dus^ ; guss for jus/ ; ole for old; bole for bold ; russ for rus/ ; truss for trus/. 1. ^‘Earth to earth, and dust to dust!’' Here the evil and the just. Here the youthful and the old, Here the fearful and t.ho bold, ECLECTIC SERIES. Here the '^ matron and the maid, In one silent bed are laid ; Here the vassal and the king Side by side, lie withering : Here the sword and scepter rust : “ Barth to earth, and dust to dust ! 2 Age on age shall roll along. O’er this palC and mighty throng; Those that wept them, those that wce}. All shall with these sleepers sleep : Brothers, sisters of the worm. Summer’s sun or winter’s storm. Song of peace or battle’s roar. ISTe’er shall break their slumbers more Death shall keep his '’'sullen trust : “ Earth to earth, and dust to dust I ” 3. But a day is coming fast. Earth, thy mightiest and thy last ! It shall come in fear and wonder. Heralded by trump and thunder : It shall come in strife and toil ; It shall come in blood and spoil ; It shall come in fempires’ groans, Burning temples, ’’'trampled thrones : Then, ’’’ambition, rue thy lust ! “ Earth to earth, and dust to dust ! ” 4 Then shall come the ’’'judgment sign ; In the east, the King shall shine ; Flashing from heaven’s golden gate, Thousands, thousands round his stale. Spirits with the crown and j)l^nie ; Tremble, then, thou solemn tomb ; Heaven shall open on our sight ; Earth be turned to living light,” ■’Kingdom of the ransomed just I “Earth to earth, and dust to dust I” 184 NEW FIFTH READER. 5. Then thy mount, Jerusalem, .Shall he gorgeous as a gem : Then shall in the desert rise Fruits of more than ‘^'Paradise, Earth by angel feet be trod. One great garden of her God ! Till are dried the martyr’s tears Through a thousand '^'glorious years: INow in hope of him we trust: Earth to earth, and dust to dust !” LESSON LY.rr 1 ; n, an imaginary spirit. 1 Braes ; n. low woods. 4 Din; n. noise. 4. Ri^-ot-ing; v, romping. 5. Trav^-ers-ing ; v. wandering. 6. Su-per-nat^-u-ral ; a more than human. 6. Re-verb^-er-a-ting ; v. sound- ing. 9. E-jac^-u-la-ted ; v. exclaimed. 15. Bon-'-ny; adj. beautiful. LUCY FORRESTER. 1. Lucy was only six years old, but bold as a fairy , she had gone by herself a thousand times about the braes, and often upon errands to houses two or three miles distant. What had her j)arents to fear ? The foot- paths were all firm, and led to no places of danger, nor are infants themselves '^incautious when alone in their pastimes. Lucy went singing into the low woods, and singing she re-appeared on the open hillside. With her small white hand on the rail, she glided along the wooden bridge, or, tripped from stone to stone across the shallow streamlet. 2. The creature would be away for hours, and no fear be felt on her account by any one at home ; whether she had gone, with her basket under her arm, to borrow some article of '^'household use from a neighbor, op merely for her own '^'solitary delight, had wandered off ECLECTIC SERIES. J85 to the braes to play among the flowers, coming back la- den with ■‘‘wreaths and garlands. 3. The happy child had been invited*to pass a whole day, from morning to night, at Lady side (a farm-house about two miles off), with her playmates, the Maynes; ind she left home about an hour after sunrise. 4. During her absence, the house was silent but happy7 and, the evening being now far advanced, Lucy was expected home every minute, and Michael, Agnes, and Isabel, her father, mother, and aunt, went to meet her on the way. They walked on and on, wondering a little, but in no degree ‘‘'alarmed, till they reached Lady- side, and heard the cheerful din of the children within, still rioting at the close of the holiday. Jacob May no came to the door, but, on their kindly asking why Lucy had not been sent home before daylight was over, he looked painfully surprised, and said that she had not been at Ladyside. 5. Within two hours, a hundred people were ‘‘‘travers- ing the hills in all directions, even to a distance which it seemed most unlikely that poor Lucy could have reached. The shepherds and their dogs, all the night through, searched every ‘‘‘nook, every stony and rocky place, every piece of taller heather, every ‘‘‘crevice that could conceal any thing alive or dead, but no Lucy was there. 6. Her mother, who, for a' while, seemed ‘‘‘inspired with supernatural strength, had joined in the search, and, with a quaking heart, looked into every brake, or stopped and listened to every shout and halloo reverber- ating among the hills, intent to seize upon some tone of ■‘‘recognition or discovery. But the moon sank; and then the^stars, whose increased brightness had, for a short time, supplied her place, all faded away ; and then came the gray dawn of the morning, and then the clear brightness of the day, and still Michael and Agnes were<> childless. 7. “ She has sunk into S 4 )me mossy or miry place,” said Michael to a man near him, into whose face he could 5th R.-lfi _ 18G JSEW FIFTH READER. not look, “ a cruel, cruel death to one like her I The earth on which my child walked has closed over her, and we shall neVer see her more ! ” 8. At last a man who had left the search, and gone in a direction toward the high-road, came running, with something in his arms toward the j^lace where Michael and others were standing beside Agnes, who lay, ^apparently exhausted almost to dying, on the sward. He approached '^'hesitatingly ; and Michael saw that he carried Lucy’s bonnet, clothes and plaid. 9. It was impossible not to see some spots of blood upon the '^frill that the child had worn around her neck. “ Murdered ! murdered ! ” was the one word, whispered or ejaculated all around ; but Agnes heard it not : for, worn out by that long night of hope and despair, she had fallen asleep, and was perhaps seeking her lost Lucy in her dreams, 10. Isabel took the clothes, and narrowly '^inspecting them with eye and hand, said, with a '^fervent voice, that was heard even in Michael’s desjpair, “ Ho, Lucy is yet among the living. There are no marks of violence on the garments of the innocent, no murderer’s hand has been here. These blood-spots have been put there to deceive. Beside, would not the murderer have carrigd off these things? For what else would he have mur- dered her ? But, oh ! foolish '^despair ! What speak 1 of? For wicked as the world is — ay! desperately wicked — there is not, on all the surface of the wide earth, a hand that would murder our child I Is it not plain as the sun in the heaven, that Lucy has been stolen by some wretched gipsy beggar.” — 11. The crowd quietly '^dispersed, and horse and foot began to scour the country. Some took the high-roads, others all the by-paths, and many the trackless hills. How that they were in some measure '^'relieved from the horrible belief that the child was dead, the worst other calamity seemed nothing, for hope brought her back to their arms. 12. Agnes had been able to walk home to Bracken- Braes, and Michael and Isabel sart by her bedside. Al! ECLECTIC SERIES. 187 r l)er strength was gone, and she lay at the mercy of the rustle of a leaf, or a shadow across the window. Thus hour after hour passed, till it was again twilight. “ I hear footsteps coming up the brae,” said Agnes, who had for some time appeared to be slumbering; and in a few moments, the voice of Jacob Mayne was heard at the outer-door. 13. JTacob wore a solemn expression of countenance; and he seemed, from his looks, to bring no comfort. Michael stood up between him and his wife, and looked into his heart. Some thing there seemed to be in his face that was not ^miserable. ‘^If he has heard nothing of my child,” thought Michael, “this man must care little for his own fireside.” “ Oh, speak, speak,” said Agnes; “yet why need you speak? All this has been but a vain belief, and Lucy is in heaven.” 14. “ Some thing like a *^trace of her has been discov- ered ; a woman, with a child, that did not look like a child of hers., was last night at Clovenford, and left it at the dawning.” “ Do you hear that, my beloved Agnes?” said Isabel; “she will have Hramped away with Lucy up into Ettrick or Yarrow; but hundreds of eyes will have been upon her; for these are quiet, but not solitary glens; and the hunt will be over long before she has crossed down upon Hawick. I knew that country in my young days. What say you, Mr. Mayne ? There is the light of hope in your face.” “There is no reason to doubt, ma’am, that it was Lucy. Every body is sure of it. If it was my own Eachel, I should have no fear as to seeing her this blessed night.” 15. Jacob Mayne now took a chair, and sat down, with even a smile upon his countenance. “ I may tell you now, that Watty Oliver knows it was your child, for he saw her Himping along after the gipsy at Galla- Brigg; but having no ^suspicion, he did not take a second look at her — ^but one look is ^sufficient — and he swears it was bonny Lucy Forrester.” " 16. Aunt Isabel, by this time, had bread and cheese, and a bottle of her own elder-flower wine, on the table. 188 NEAY FIFTH READER. “You have been a long and hard journey, where ever you have been, Mr. Mayne; take some refreshment;” and Michael asked a blessing. 17. Jacob saw that he might now venture to '^reveal the whole truth. “JSTo, no, Mrs. Irving, I am over happy to eat or to drink. You are all prepared for the blessing that awaits you. Your child is not far off; and I myself, for it is I myself that found her, will bring her by the hand, and restore her to her parents.” 18. Agnes had raised herself up in her bed at these words, but she sank gently back on her pillow ; aunt Isabel was rooted to her chair ; and Michael, as he rose up, felt as if the ground w^ere sinking under his feet. There was a dead silence all around the house for a short space, and then the sound of many voices, which - again by degrees '^’subsided. The eyes of all then looked, and jmt feared to look toward the door. 19. Jacob May ne was not so good as his word, for he did not bring Lucy by the hand to *^restore her to her parents; but dressed again in her own bonnet and gown, and her own plaid, in rushed their own child by herself, with tears and sobs of joy, and her father laid her within her mother’s bosom. Question. — Relate the story of little Lucy Forrester, and the man- ner in which she was found. What are the nouns in the last paragraph ? The adjectives ? The verbs ? The adverbs ? Prepositions ? Conjunctions ? EXERCISE XXV. Canst thou fill his sJcin with barbed irons f Thou sliiiiiber^ d\st not in vain. Thou Icddst thy waves at rest ArouncZ him fall dread powers, dominions, hosts, and Wngly thrones. AVhen Ajax strives some rocTds vast weight to throw. He was distinguished for his conscientiousness. His lips grow restless and his smile is curled into scorn. His limhs were strengthened by exercise. The Teacher is reminded that the words in italics in the Exercises in Articulation should be spelled by their elements, two or more conso- nants- coming together being uttered as one; and that the word should then be distinctly and forcibly pronounced. ECLECTIC SERIES. LESSON LVI. r 1. XiNQB ; n. a slight degree of color. 1 Kab'-bi; n. a title given to learned men among the Jews. 4. Re-past^; n. a meal. 4. Or'-i-sons; n. prayers. 4 Pon-tifM-cal ; adj. belonging to the high priest. 4. Cym^-bal; n. an instrument of music. 4. Psal'-ter-y; n. an instrument of music. 4. Hal-le-lu'-jahs; n. [^vo.hal- le-lu-yahs) praises to God. 5. In^-cense ; n. the odor of spi- ces burnt in religious worship. 6. Re-luct^-ant ; adj. unwilling. 5. Sap^-phire; n. a precious stone of a blue color ; here put for the color. 6. Lus^-ter ; n. splendor, bright- ness. 8. Spous^'-al; adj. relating to marriage. 10. CiiAS^-TENED ; adj. (pro. chas- n'd) afflicted for correction. 10. Hom^'-age; 71. reverential wor- ship. A' HEBREW TALE. Remaek.— Be careful not to allow the voice- to grow weaker and weaker, as you approach the end of each sentence. Pronounce correctly. Do not say source for scarce ; frag-rani for fra-grant; o-ri'-soKS for or'-i-sons ; hal-le-lu-jahs, pro. hair le-lu-yahs ; beau-che-ons for beau-ie-ous ; hal-lerd for hal-/(w-ed ; (r-he-junce foi o-be-cZi-ence. 1. '•'TwiiiiGHT was deepening with a tinge of eve, As toA^rd his home in Israel’s +sho‘Ttered vales A +stately Eabbi drew. His camels spied Afar the palm^rees’ lofty heads, that '•'decked The dear, do-^iiestic ■••fountain, and in speed Pressed with broad foot, the smooth and doAvy glade. 2 The holy man his peaceful threshold passed With hasting step. The evening meal was spread. And she, Avho from life’s morn his heart had shared, Breathed her fond Avelcome. Bowing o’er the board, The blessing of his father’s God he sought ; Enler of <^rth and sea. Then raising high The ■•'sparltling wine cup, “ call my sons,” ho bade, ^ “ And lot mo liloss them ore their hour of rest.” / NEW FIFTH EEADER. 3. The observant mother spake with gentle voice bomewhat of soft excuse, that they were wont’ lo linger long amid the Proi)het’s school, Learning the holy law their father loved. 4 —His sweet repast with sweet +discburse was blent W journeying and return. » Would thou hadst seen With me, the golden morning bring to light Xon mountain summits, whose blue waving line Scarce meets thine eye, where chirp of joyous birds. A breath of fragrant herbs and spicy gales. And sigh of waving boughs, stirred in the soul Warm orisons. Yet most I wished thee near Amid the temple’s pomp, when the high priest. Clad in his robe pontifical, '*'in'^oked The God of Abraham, while on the lute and harp Cymbal, and trump, and psalt’ry, and glad breath Of tuneful Levite, and the mighty shout Of all our people, like the swelling sea,' Loud hallelujahs burst. When next I seek Blest Zion s glorious hill, our beauteous boys l^fust bear me company. Their early prayers Will rise as incense. Thy reluctant love Ho longer must withhold them the new +tc>if' Will give them sweeter sleep, and touch their cheek With brighter crimson. ’Mid their raven curls My hand I ’ll lay, and dedicate them there, Even in those courts, to Israel’s God ; Two spotless lambs, well pleasing in his sight. But yet, methinks, thou ’rt paler grown, my love ? And the pure sapphire of thine eyes looks dim. As though ’twere washed with tears.” Paintly she smiled, “ One doubt, my lord, I fain would have thee solve. Gems of rich luster and of countless cost Were to my keeping trusted. How, alas ! They are demanded. Must they be restored ? Or may I not a little longer gaze Upon their dazzling +hues ? ECLECTIC SERIES. 191 7 . His eyes grew stern, And on his lip there lurked a sudden curl Of indignation. Doth my wife propose Such doubt ? as if a master might not claim His own ag^in?” “Hay, Eabbi, come, behold These '‘'priceless jewels ere I yield them back.” 8. So to their sj)ousal chamber, with soft hand Her lord she led. There, on a snow white couch Lay his two sons, pale^ pale^ and motionless^ Like faij twin lilies, which some '^'gr^zing kid In twahl^nness had cropped. “ My sons ! my sons ! Light of my eyes ! ” the astonished father cried ; “ My teachers in the law ! whose '•'guileless hearts And prompt obedience warned me oft to be More perfect with my God ! ” 9. To earth he fell, Like Lebanon’s rent cedar ; while his breast Heaved with such groans as when the laboring soul Breaks from its clay companion’s close embrace. The mourning mother turned away and wept, Till the first storm of '•'paferfonate grief was still. Then, pressing to his ear her faded lip, • She sighed in tone of tremulous tenderness, “ Thou didst instruct me, Eabbi, how to yield The summoned jewels. See ! the Lord doth give, The Lord hath taken away.” 10. “ Yea !” said the sire, “ And blessed be his name. Even for thy sake^ Thrice blessed be Jehovah.” Long he pressed On those cold, beautiful browns his '•'quivi^ring lip, When from his eye the burning anguish rolled ; Th^n kneeling low, those chastened spirits poured Their mighty homage forth to God. Questions. — What is a Rabbi ? Relate this story. What is the best Eupport in time of trouble and affliction? 192 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON LVII.^/ 1. Rep^-tiles (pro. rep^~tils)] n. animals that creep, as worms, snakes, &c. 1. Re-coil''; V. start back, shrink from. 2. Coiled; v, gathered into a circular form. 2. Coy''-a; n. a kind of serpent. 3. In-fest^'-ed ; v. troubled, an- noyed. 4. Ob-structs''; v. hinders, stops. 5. Rank^'-le; V. to rage, to become violent. 5. Spell; n. a charm. 7. Still; n. a vessel used iu dis- tilling or making liquors. THE VENOMOUS WORM. Pronounce correctly. Do not say rep4iles for rep-tiles (pro. rep^-tils); pi-son for poi-son; un-for-ier-nit for un-fort-^-nate; an4~muls for an-i-mals ; dis-iruc-iion for de-struc-tion ; symp-tims for symp-toms ; in-san-er-ty for in-san-i-ty. Outvenoms all the worms of Nile.'^ 1. Who has not heard of the rattlesnake or ^copper head? An unexpected sight of either of these reptiles will make even the lords of creation recoil; but there is a species of worm, found in various parts of this State, which conveys a poison of a nature so deadly, that, com- pared with it, even the +venom of the rattlesnake is harmless. To guard our readers against this foe of human kind, is the object of this lesson. 2. This worm varies much in size. It is frequently an inch in ^diameter, but, as it is rarely seen, except when coiled, its length can hardly be ^conjectured. It is of a dull lead color, and generally lives near a spring or small stream of water, and bites the unfortunate people, who are in the hahit of going there to drink. The brute creation it never molests. They avoid it with the same instinct, that teaches the animals of Peru to shun the deadly coya. 3. Several of these reptiles have long infested our set- tlements, to the ^misery and destruction of many of our fellow-citizens. I have, therefore, had frequent opportu- nities of being the melancholy spectator of the effects ECLECTIC SERIES. 193 produced by the subtile poison wliicli this worm ■’in- fuses. 4. The ■’■symptoms of its bile are terrible. The eyes of the patient become red and fiery, his tongue swells to an immoderate size, and obstructs his '’'utterance; and ■’’delirium of the most horrid character, quickly follows. Sometimes, in his madness, he attempts the destruction of his nearest friends. 5. If the sufferer has a family, his weeping wife and helpless infants are not unfrequently the objects of his frantic fury. In a word, he ’’'exhibits, to the life, all the detestable passions that rankle in the bosom of a savage; and such is the spell in which his senses are locked, that, no sooner has the '’'unhappy patient recovered from the ■’■paroxysm of insanity, occasioned b}^ the bite, than he seeks out the destroyer^ for the sole purpose of being bitten again, ^ 6. I have seen a good old father, his locks as white as snow, his step slow and trembling, beg in vain of his only son to quit the ’’’lurking place of the worm. My heart bled when he turned away; for I knew the fond ■hope, that his son would be the staff of his ’’’declining years,” had supported him through many a sorrow. 7. Youths of America, would you know the name of this reptile? It is called the Worm of the Still. Questions. — What is manufactured at the ‘‘still” here spoken of? Why is intemperance worse than the bite of the most venomous serpent? What is the coy a? What part of a still is called the “worm?” Why is it so called? In the last paragraph parse “youths.” See Analytical Grammar, Rule V. EXERCISE XXVI. They grappl’d and fell. The grizzly bear is ferocious. They p'umbl’d at their crippled condition. Each crevice and cranny -was filled with frost. Alt^r^ and shrines incredibly increase, llerds- men protect herds in the forests. Scenes of pleasure soon pall upon the senses. The trees fell thundering^ and crackling^ and crashing The Franks fed /rawtically. R.--17 194 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON I. A'SLOpi/; adv. obliquely, in a slanting manner. % Pau^-peu; n, a poor person, one supported by the public, [ing. 2 Pno-MUL^-GA-TiNG ; V. publish- 3. Mu-nic-i-pal^-i-ty ; w. a divis- ion of country or of a city. 4. Gob^-let ; n. a kind of drinking vessel. 4. CoGN^-iAC ; n. (pro. hone^-yah) the best kind of brandy. LVIlI.i 4. Hol^-lands; n. a kind of gin 4. Ja-mai^-ca; n. a kind of rum. 6. Po-TA^-TiONs; n. draughts. 6. Ku^-bi-cund; adj. inclined to redness. 10. Tit-il-l A^-T iON ; n, the state of being tickled. 14. Mo-nop^-o-lize; v. to obtain the whole. 14. Con-sum-ma^-tion; n. comple- tion, perfection of a work. THE TOWN PUMP. Remark. — It will be a good exercise for the pupil to stand at a distance from the teacher, and then try to read so loud and distinctly that the teacher may hear with perfect ease each syllable that pronounced. Pronounce correctly. Do not sa.y troth for trough (pro. trauf); per-pe4eiv~iy for per-pe-tw-i-ty ; pat4un for pat-tern; of-fi-sm for of-fi-cers; for lan-tern ; for thiVs-ty, {Scene . — The corner of two principal streets. — The Town Pump talking through its nose.) 1. Noon, by the north clock^! Noon, by the east^ ! High noon, too, by those hot sunbeams which falP, scarcely aslope^, upon my head, and almost make the Water bubble and smoke in the trough under my nose^. Truly^, we public characters have a tough time^ of it! And among all the town officers, chosen at the yearlj^ meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single year, the burden of such '^manifold duties as are imposed, ir ^perpetuity, upon the Town Pump. 2. The title of town treasurer is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best treasure the town has. The '*'over- seers of the poor ought to make me their chairman, sinc^ I provide '^bountifully for the pauper, without expense tc him that paj^s taxes. I am at the head of the fire depart nient, and one of the physicians of the board of health ECLECTIC SERIES. 195 Asa keeper of the peace, all water-drinkers confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the duties of the town clerk, by promulgating public notices, when they are pasted on my front. 3. To speak within bounds, I am chief person of the municipality, and f exhibit, moreover, an '^'admirable pattern to my brother officers, by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and '^'impartial "^discharge of my business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain ; for all day long I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms to rich and poor alike; and at night I hold a lantern over my head, to show where I am, and to keep 2 )eoj)le out of the gutters. 4. At this sultry noontide, I am cupbearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram-seller on the public square, on a Lnuster day, I cry aloud to all and sundry, in my plainest accents, and at the very tiptop of my voice. Here it is^, gentlemen^! Here is the good liq- uor^! "Walk up^, walk up^, gentlemen^, walk up^, walk u}^^! Here is the superior stuffs ! Here is the unadul- terated ale of father Adam^! better than Cogniac^, Hol- lands^, Jamaica^, strong beer^, or wfine of any^ price ; here it is, by the hogshead, or the single glass, and not a cent to pay ! Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves ! 5. It were a pity, if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen. +Quaff and away again, so as to keej) yourselves in a nice, cool sweat. You, m}^ friend, will need another cupful to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have trudged half a score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and stopped at the running brooks and wellcurbs. Otherwise, betv/ixt heat without and fire within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all, in the fashion of a ^jelUffish. 196 NFAV FIFTH READER. G. Drink, and make room for that other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night’s potations, which he drained from no cup of mine. Wel- come, most rubicund sir ! You and I have been stran- gers hitherto; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer '^'intimacy, till the fumes of your breath be a little less ‘‘'potent. 7. Mercy on you, man! ,The water absolutely hisses down your red-hot *^gullet, and is converted quite into steam in the ‘‘‘miniature bTopliet, which you mistake for a stomach. Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any other kind of dramshop, spend the price of your chil- dren’s food for a swig half so delicious? I7ow, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavor of cold water. Good-by ; and whenever you are thirsty, recol- lect that I keep a constant supply, at the old stand. 8. Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are just let loose from school, and come hither to scrub your bloom- ing face, and drown the memory of certain taps of the ferule, and other school -boy troubles, in a ‘‘‘draught from the Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life; take it, and may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now. 9. There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your place to this elderly gentleman, who treads so ten- derly over the paving-stones, that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! he limps by, without so much as thanking me, as if my ‘‘‘hospitable offers were meant only for people who have no wine-cellars. 10. Well, well, sir, no harm done, I hope! Go, draw the cork, tip the ‘‘‘decanter ; but when your great toe shall set you a roaring, it will be no affair of mine. Jf gen U emeu love the pleasant titillation of the gout, it is all one to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue ‘‘‘lolling out, does not scorn my ‘‘‘hospitality, blit stands on his hind legs, and laps eagerly out of the trough. See, how lightly he ‘‘‘capers away again! .Tow- le r. (lid your worship ever have the gout? ECLECTIC SERIES. 19 / 11. Your pardon^, good people^! I must interrupt my stream of teloquence, and spout forth a stream of water, to '‘■replenish the trough for this teamster and his two yoke of oxen, who have come all +])e way from Staunton, or somewhere along that way ISTo part of my business gives me more pleasure than the watering of cattle. Look^! how rapidly they lower the water* mark on the sides of the trough, till their '‘'capacious stomachs are moistened with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afPord time to breathe, with sighs of calm enjoyment. Now they roll their quiet eyes around the brim of their monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper. 12. I hold myself the grand '‘'reformer of the age. From my spout, and such spouts as mine, must flow the stream that sliail cleanse our earth of a vast portion of its crime and anguish, which has gushed from the fieiy fountains of the still. In this mighty '‘'enterprise, the cow shall be my great confederate. Milk and water ! 13. Ahem ! Dry work, this ‘‘'speechifying, especially to all unpracticed orators. I never conceived, till now, what toil the temperance lecturers undergo for my sake. Do, some kind Christian, pump a stroke or two, just to wet my whistle. Thank y^ou, sir. But to proeeed. 14. The Town Pump and the Cow! Such is the glori- ous partnership, that shall finally monopolize the whole business of quenching thirst. Blessed consummation I Then, Poverty shall pass away from the land, finding no hovel so wretched, where her squallid form may shelter itself Then, Disease, for lack of other victims, shall gnaw his own heart and die. Then, Sin, if she do not die, shall lose half her strength. 15. Then, there will be no war of households. The husband and the wife, drinking deep of peaceful joy, a calm bliss of temperate affections, shall pass hand in hand through life, and lie down, not reluctantly, at its protracted close. To them, the past will be no tur- moil of mad dreams, nor the future an eternity of such moments as follow the delirium of the drunkard. Their 198 NEW FIFTH READER. dead faces shall express what their spirits were, and are to he, by a lingering smile of memory and hope. 16. Drink, then, and be refreshed! The water is as pure and cold as when it slaked the thirst of the red hunter, and flowed beneath the aged bough, though now this gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hoi stones, where no shadow falls, but from the brick build ings. But, still is this '‘'fountain the source of health, peace, and happiness, a^d I behold with certainty and joy, the approach of the period, when the virtues of cold water, too little valued since our father’s days, will be fully '‘'appreciated and '‘'recognized by all. Questions. — Describe the various characters who are supposed to approach the pump for a drink, and the pump’s remarks to them. LESSON LIX.X/ Ex-act^; v. to compel to pay. For^-feit; n. that to which the right is lost by breach of con- tract. (vAR^-ri-on; adj. putrid. Duc^-at ; n, a piece of money worth from one to two dollars. Hu^-mor; n. disposition, fancy. Baned ; V. poisoned. Gap^-ing; adj. open mouthed. Strain^-ed ; V. forced. Ex-po-si-'-tion ; n. explanation. Nom^-i-na-ted; v. named. Pen^-al-ty; n. the suffering or loss to which one is subjected by not fulfilling certain con- ditions. CoN^-Fis-cATE ; adj. taken away . and devoted to the public use. Al^-ien, (pro. aW-yen ) ; n. one who is not entitled to the privilege of a citizen. Cof^-fer; n. treasury. Ten^-or; n. meaning. SHYLOCK, OR THE POUND OF FLESH. Remark. — Let the pupil stand at a distance from the teacher, and try to read so loud and distinctly, that the teacher may hear each syllable. Articulate distinctly. Do not say perdlt-y for pen-al-ty, {{uaViy for qual-i-ty ; jper-jWy for per-j?^-ry ; law-f^ly for law-fwZ ly ; €x-p^si4ion for ex-po-si-tion ; prin-c^p^l for prin-cz-pal ; in- direct for in'dz-rect. Judge. What 1 is Antonio here? Antonio. Eeady, so please your grace. ECLECTIC SERIES. 199 Ju. 1 tim sorry for tliee; thou art come to answer A stony '^'adversary, an inhuman wretch, ■^'Incapable of pity. Ani I am armed to suffer. . {Enter Shylock.) p ^h. Dost thou now exact the penalty, Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh? ^ Shy By our holy Sabbath, I have sworn, To have the due and forfeit of my bond. / Ju. This is no ansAver, thou unfeeling man. To excuse the '^'current of thy cruelty, i Shy I am not bound to please thee with my answer. You’ll ask me why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive Three thousand ducats. I ’ll not answer that: But say it is my humor. Is it answered ? What if my house be troubled with a rat. And I be pleased to give ten thousand ducats To have it baned? What, are you answered yel? Some men there are, love not a gaping pig; Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat; As there is no firm reason to be '‘'rendered. Why one can not abide a gaping pig; Another, a harmless, '^necessary cat; So can I give no reason, and I will not. More than a lodged hate, and a certain loathing I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Ju. Do all men kill the things they do not love? Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? : t Ant. For thy three thousand ducats, here are six. Shy If every ducat in six thousand ducats Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, I would not draw them; I would have my bond. Ju. How shalt thou hope for mercy, '^rendering none? Shy. The pound of flesh which I demand of him, Is dearly bought; is mine; and I will have it: If you deny me, fy upon 3" our law ! 200 NEW FIFTH READER. 1 stand for ^judgment; answer; shall I have it? ^ . Ju. Antonio, do you confess the bond? I ; A7it. I do. f ^^Ju. Then must the Jew be merciful. Shy, On what ‘'compulsion 7nust I? tell me that. Ju. The quality of mercy is not '‘'strained ; It droppeth as the gentle rain from .heaven Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. Shy. My deeds upon my head ! I '‘'crave the law. The penalty and forfeit of my bond. Ju. Is he not able to discharge the money ? Ant. Yes, here I tender it to him in the court ; Yea, twice and thrice the sum. Shy. I ’ll have my bond, I will not take thy oder. • Ju. There is no power in Venice Can alter a '‘'decree '‘'established. £ Oh wise, wise Judge, how do I honor thee ! Ju. I pray you let me look u]Don the bond. {Gives it to the Judged Shy. Here ’t is, most '‘'reverend doctor,* here it is. Ju. Shylock, there’s thrice thy money otfered thee. Shy. An oath, an oath, I have in Heaven : Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice. Ju. Why, this bond is forfeit : And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut olf Nearest the merchant’s heart ; be merciful ; Take thrice the money ; bid me tear the bond. Shy. When it is paid according to the tenor. You know the law, your '‘'exposition Hath been most sound. There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me : I stand here on my bond. ^ This word here means a learned man. ECLECTIC SERIES. 201 \ jAnt. f Ju. ^^Shy. . Ju, Shy. Ju, Ju. ■ A Ju, u^Shy. Ju, * ^ut, (jShy. f Ju, ' i Most heartily do I beseech the court To give the judgment. Why, then, thus it is. You must prepare p^our bosom^for his k^^ife. Oh noble Judge ! ' ••'iCr For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty. Which here appeareth due unto the bond. ’T is very true : Oh wise and upright Judge ! Therefore, lay bare your bosom. (To Antonio.) Ay, his breast : So says the bond ; does it not, noble Judge ? Nearest his heart, those are the very words. It is so. Are there balance here, to weigh The flesh ? I have them ready. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge. To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. Is it so nominated in the bond ? It is not so expressed; but what of that? ’T were good you do so much in charity. I can not find it ; ’t is not in the bond. Come, merchant, have you any thing to say ? But little ; I am armed and well prepared. Shylock ! A pound of that same merchant’s flesh is thine ! The court awards it, and the law doth give it. Most rightful Judge ! And you must cut the flesh from off his breast ; The law allows it, and the court awards it. Most learned Judge I A sentence : come, prepare. Tarry a little ; there is something else. This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; The words expressly are, a pound of flesh : But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 202 NEW FIFTH READER. Are, by the law of Yenice, confiscate Unto the State of Yenice. Shy, Is that the law ? lu. Thyself shalt see the act ; For, as thou urgest justice, be '^'assured Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. Shy. 1 take his offer, then ] pay the bond thrico. And let the Christian go. Ju. The Jew shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste ! He shall have nothing but the penalty. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. Shed thou not blood ; nor cut thou less nor more. Than just one pound ; be it but so much As makes it light or heavy, in the substance. Or the division of the twentieth part Of one poor "^scruple ; nay, if the scale do turn But in the '^'estimation of a hair. Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy '♦'forfeiture. , Shy. Give me my '♦'principal, and let me go. Ju. Thou hast refused it in the open court ; Thou shalt have merely justice, and the bona. Shy. Shall I not barely have my '♦'principal ? Ju. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture. To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. Shy. Why, then, the devil give him good of it! I’ll stay no longer question. Ju. Tarry, Jew: The law hath yet another hold on you. It is enacted in the laws of Yenice, If it be proved against an alien. That by direct or indirect '♦'attempts. He seeks the life of any citizen. The party ’gainst the which he doth "^contrive, Shall seize one half his goods ; and the other naif Comes to the privy coffer of the State, And the offender’s life lies in the mercy Of the court only. I!:0LECT1C SEKIEIS. 203 C Take'iny life, then, and all, and pardon not that. Yon take my house, when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house ; you take my life. When you do take the means by which I live. , ^ Ju, The court in mercy spares thy life, Eut the forfeiture of thy estate. Comes not within our power to '^remedy; The law is strict in its demands of justice. Are you +contented, Jew? What dost thou say? Shy, I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; I am not well ; Oh give me leave to go Where I may die in peace : Since what I hold dearer than my life. Is taken from me. ^ Ju, The court has mercy on your life ; Go, repent, and live. And with a softer heart, remember mercy too. Questions. — Why did Shylock choose tiie pound of flesh rather than the payment of his debt? What does he mean by saying “ray deeds upon my head ?” In whose favor does the judge decide ? How does he eventually relieve Antonio from his danger? How is Shylock punished ? Was his punishment just ? Why ? In the last three lines, which are the verbs ? Which of them is in the indicative mode ? Which are in the imperative mode ? What does the word mean ? Why is this mode so called? What does the word imperative mean? See Pinneo’s Analytical Grammar, page 68, Art. 163. EXERCISE XXVII. When similar sounds come at the end of one word, and at the be- ginning of the next, they must not be blended. He sink5 sorrowing to the tomb. Man loves society. Time flies swiftly. The birds sing. Man never dies. The hear^ ifurns awfiy. The lip pants. The di/n mournful ligh^ ^ries vainly to enter. The quicA* creaA; comes grating. Gwq vantage ground. 204 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON LX. ■ 1. 1m-per-cept^-i-ble; adj. not to be perceived. 1 . In-cip^-i-ent ; adj. commencing, beginning. 2. Dex-ter^-i-ty ; n. expertness, skill. 3. Pro-pen^-si-ties ; n. bent of mind, inclination. 4. Fas-cin-a^-tion; n. a powerful influence on the aflections. 4. StiiP-U'LUS ; n. something which excites. 7. Can^-ons ; n. rules. 8. Cal^-lous; adj. insensible, un- feeling. 9. Ban^-died ; v. tossed about. 10. Bac-cha-na^-lian ; adj. revel ing in intemperance. 11. Phys^-ic-al; adj. material, ex ternal. 12. BP-a-lect; n. a particulai form of speech. 12. Re-cept^-a-cles ; n. places where any thing is received. 13. Glad '-I-A-TOR ; n. a prize- fighter. 13. A-re^-na ; n. an open space. 14. Ru^-mI'NA-ting; v. meditating. 15. Ret-ri-bu''-tion ; n. recom- pense. EFFECTS OF GAMBLING. Remark. — Be careful to observe the commas and other points, making an appropriate pause at each one of them. 1. The love of gambling steals, perhaps, more often than any other sin, with an imperceptible influence on its victim. Its first ’^pr^text is '^'inconsiderable, and falsely termed innocent play, with no more than the gentle ■^'excitement necessary to amusement. This plea, once indulged, is but too often “as the letting out of water.” The interest imperceptibly grows. Pride of superior skill, opportunity, avarice, and all the "^o^r- whelming passions of depraved nature, ally themselves with the incipient and growing fondness. Dam and dike are swept away. The victim struggles in vain, and is borne down by the '^uncontrolled current. 2. Thousands have given scope to the '^'latent guilty avarice, unconscious of the guest they harbored in their bosoms. Thousands have exulted over the avails of gambling, without comprehending the baseness of using the money of another, won without honest industry, 205 ECLECTIC SERIES. obtaiued without an +equivalen^; and perhaps from tlie tsimjilicity, rashness, and '^inexperience of youth. Miih ti tildes have commenced gambling, thinking only to win a small sum, and prove their superior skill and dexterity, fend there pause. 3. But it is the teaching of all time, it i^ ,the expe- lience of human nature, that effectual '^'resistance to powerful propMsities, if made at all, is usually made before the '^'coiifmission of the first sin. My dear reader ! let me imf)lore you, by the mercies of God and the worth of your soul, to '^con^*^plate this enormous evil only from a distance. Stand firmh^ against the first tempta- tion, under vrhatsoever '^spdcioiis forms it may assail you. “Touch not.” “Handle not.” “Enter not into temptation.” 4. It is the '^'m^lncholy and well known character of this sin, that, where once an appetite for it has gained possession of the breast, the common motives, the gentle excitements, and the ordinary '^'inducements to business or amusement, are no longer felt. It incorporates itself with the whole body of thought, and fills with its fascin- ation all the desires of the heart. ISTothing can, hence- forward arouse the spell-bound victim to a '’'plc/a’^urable '^con/cISusness of existence, but the destructive stimulus of gambling. — 5. Another '^appalling view of gambling is, that it is the prolific stem^ the fruitful parent^ of all other vices. Blas- phemy, falsehood, cheating, drunkenness, quarreling, and mui’der, are all naturally connected with gambling; and what has been said, with so much power and truth, of another sin, may, with equal emphasis and triifh, be asserted of this : “ Allow yourself to become a '♦'confirmed gambler; and detestable as this practice is, it will soon be only one among many gross ^sins of which you will be guilty.” Giving yourself up to the indulgence of another sinful course, might prove your ruin; but then you might perish only under the guilt of the '♦'indulgence of a single gross sin. ~ n. But, should you become a gambler, you will, in all 2()G NEW FIFTH READER. probability, descend to destruction with the added in- famy of having been the slave of all kinds of iniquity, and “led captive by Satan at his will.” Gambling seizes hold of all the passions, allies itself with all the appetites, and compels every propensity to pay '‘'tribute. The subject, how(^ver plausible in his,.external deportment, becomes '‘'a^ai4cious, greedy, ‘‘‘iilgatiable. Meditations upon the card table occupy all his day and night dreams. Had he the power, he would '‘'annSiilate all the hours of this our short life, that necessarily '’'intervene between the periods of his favorite jDursuit. ^7. Cheating is a sure and '‘'inseparable attendant upon a continued course of gambling. We well know with what horror the canons of the card table repel this charge. It pains us to assert our deep and deliberate conviction of its truth. There must be prostration of moral principle, and silence of conscience,^ even to begin with it. Surely a man ^ho regards the natural sense of right, laying the "‘'obligations of Christianity out of the question, can not sit down with the purpose to win the money of another in this way. 8. He must be aware, in doing it, thaf ^varice and dishonest thoughts, it may be almost "‘'uncohsciously to himself, mingle with his motives. Having once closed his eyes upon the unworthiness of his motives, and de- ceived himself, he begins to study how he may deceive others. Every moralist has remarked upon ^he delicacy of conscience; and that, from the first "‘'violation, it be- comes more and more callous, nfitj! finally it sleeps a sleep as of death, and ceases to "‘'remc^strate. 9. The gambler is less and less scrupulous about the modes of winning, so that he can win. Ho person will be long near the gambling table of high stakes, be the standing of the players v/hat it may, without hearing the charge of cheating bandied back and forward; or read- ing the "‘'indignant expression of it in their countenances. One half of our fatal duels have their immediate or remote origin in insinuations of this sort. 10. The alternations of loss and gain; the "‘'preterna- ECLECTIC SERIES. 207 tural excitement of the mind, and consequent dcj)ression when that excitement has passed away ; the bacchana- lian merriment of guilty associates; the loss of natural rest; in short, the very ^atmosphere of the gambling table, foster the temperament of hard drinldng. A keen sense of interest may, indeed, and often does, restrain the gambler, while actually engaged in his employment, that he may possess the ^requisite coolness to watch his '‘'antagonist, and avail himself of every passing advantage. 11. But the moment the high excitement of play is in- termitted, the moment the passions '‘'vibrate back to the state of repose, what shall sustain the sinking spirits ; what shall renerve the relaxed physical nature; what shall fortify the mind against the tortures of conscience, and the thoughts of “a judgment to come,” but '‘intoxi- cation? It is the experience of all time, that a person is seldom a gambler for any considerable period, without being also a drunkard. 12. Blasphemy follows, as a thing of course: and is, indeed, the well-known and universal dialect of tl\e gambler. How often has my heart sank within me, as I have passed the dark and dire receptacles of the gam- bler, and seen the red and bloated faces, and '‘inhaled the mingled smells of tobacco and '‘'potent drink; and heard the loud, strange, and horrid curses of the players ; .'ealizing the while, that these beings so occupied were ■‘'candidates for eternity, and now on the course which, if not speedily forsaken, would fix them forever in hell. 13. We have already said, that gambling naturally leads to quarreling' and murder. How often have we retired to our berth in the steamboat, and heard charges of dishonesty, accents of '‘'reviling and '‘'recrimination, and hints that these charges must be. met and settled at another time and place, ring in our ears, as we have been attempting to commune with God, and settle in a right frame to repose! Many '‘'corses of young men, who met a violent death from this cause, have we seen carried to their long home! Every gambler, in the 208 NEW FIFTH READER. region where we write, is always armed to the teetn, and goes to this horrid pursuit, as the gladiator formerly presented himself on the arena of combat. 14. The picture receives deeper shades, if we take into tlic grouping the wife^ or the daughter^ or the mother^ who lies sleepless, and ruminating through the long night, trembling lest her midnight '^retirement shall be invaded by those who bring back the husband and the father wounded or slain, in one of those sudden '^frays which the card table, its accompaniments, and the passions it excites, so frequently generate. Suppose these '’'fore- bodings should not be realized, and that he should steal home alive in the morning, with beggary and drunken- ness, guilt and despair, written on his ’’'haggard counte- nance, and accents of sullenness and ill temper falling from his tongue, how ’’'insupportably gloomy must be the prospects of the future to that family! "15. These are but feeble and general sketches of the misery and ruin to individuals and to .society from the '’'indulgence of this vice, during the present life. If the wishes of unbelief were true, and there were no life after this, what perverse and miserable '’’calculations would be those of the gambler, taking into view only the present world! But, in any view of the character and conse- quences of gambling, who shall dare close his eyes upon its future hearing on the interest and the eternal welfare of his soul ! Who shall dare lay out of the calculation the retributions of '^eternity f 16. Each of the sins that enters into this deadly com- pound of them all, must incur the threatened displeasure and punishment of the Almighty. If there be degrees in the misery and despair of the '’’tenants of that re- gion, “ where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched,” how must the '’'persevering and '’'impenitent gambler sink, as if “a millstone were hung about his neck, and he cast into the sea 1 ” Say thou, my youthful reader, I implore thee, looking up to the Lord for a firm and unalterable purpose, “ I will hold fast my integrity and not let it go.” ECLECTIC SEKIES. 209 LESSON LXl.o^ / 1. Al-ltjre^-ment w. something attractive. 1 Plight ; n, state, condition. 3 Phan^-tom; n, a fancied vision, a specter. 3. A-wrt^ ; a(^'. (pro. a-ri'') turned to one side, squinting. 3. In-an^-i-mate; ad}, without life. 4. ViG^-iL-ANCE ; n. watchfulness. 4. De-crep^-it ; a. wasted with age. 5. Prone ; ad}, bending down, not erect. 5. De-based''; ad}, degraded. 6. Un-alms^-ed; ad}, (pro. un- amzd'') not having received alms, or charitable assistance THE MISER. Remark. — Remember that the chief beauty and excellence of read- ing consists in a clear and smooth articulation of the words and letters. Pronounce correctly the following words in this lesson. Do not say sa-cri-Jisd for sac-ri-fic’d (pro. sac-ri-Jiz’ d ) ; he-nev-erdimce for be-nev-o-lence; of-fad for of-fer’cZ; bit-ter-niss for bit-ter-ness ; yal-ler for yel-loii? ; fol-lerd for fol-loidj’d ; il-lus4rous for il-lus-tri- ous ; ub-un-dunce for a-bun-dance. 1. Gold, many hunted, sweat and bled for gold ; Waked all the night, and labored all the day ; And what was this allurement, dost thou ask ? A dust dug from the "^bowels of the earth, Which being cast into the fire, came out A shining thing that fools admired, and called A god ; and in devout and humble plight Before it kneeled, the greater to the less. 2 They, on its altar, '’‘Sacrificed ease and peace. Truth, faith, '’'integrity, good conscience, friends, Love, '’’charity, '’’benevolence, and all The sweet and tender '’’sympathies of life ; And, to complete the horrid, ’’’murderous rite, And '’’signalize their folly, offered up Their souls, and an eternity of bliss. To gain them, what ? an hour of dreaming joy, A feverish hour that hasted to be done, And ended in the ’’'bitterness of woe. .5th Ik— 18 NEW FIFTH READER. 210 3. Most, for the ‘^luxuries it bought, the +pomp. The praise, the glitter, fashion, and renown. This yellow phantom followed and adored. • But there was one in folly further gone. With eye awry, '’'incurable, and wild. The laughing-stock of devils and of men. And by his ’’'guardian angel quite given up ; The miser ^ who with dust inanimate Held wedded '’'intercourse. 4. Ill-guided wretch ! Thou might^st have seen him at the midnight hour, When good men slept, and in light-winged dreams Ascended up to God — in wasteful hall, With vigilance and fasting, worn to skin And bone, and wrapped in most '’'debasing rags. Thou might’st have seen him bending o’er his heaps, And holding strange communion with his gold ; And, as his thievish fancy seemed to hear The night-man’s foot apj)roach, starting alarmed And in his old, decrepit, withered hand. That palsy shook, grasping the yellow earth To make it sure. 5. Of all God made upright. And in their nostrils breathed a living soul. Most fallen, most prone, most earthy, most '’'debased. Of all that sold Eternity for Time, Hone bargained on so easy terms with Heath. 6. ■’'Illustrious fool ! Hay, most '’'inhuman wretch I He sat among his bags, and, with a look Which hell might be ashamed of, drove the poor Away unalmsed, and mid ’’'abundance died. Sorest of evils !• died of utter want, Questions. — Describe the miser as here painted. What becomc\ of him ? In the first sentence “gold many hunted,” what is the subject What the attribute ? What modifier has the attribute ? In what case How governed? See Pinneo’s Analytical Grammar, page 140, Es 100, and Rule HI. ECLECTIC SERIES. 211 LESSON LXII.r 1. 1m-pe''-ri-ous ; adj, urgent, not to be opposed. 1. An-tag^-o-nist ; n. an oppo- nent, one who contends with another in combat. 2. Poign''-ant; adj. (^vo, poin-ant) sharp, severe. 2. Par^-a-lyzed ; v. deprived of the power of action. CPIMINALITY OP DUELING. iM^i, Alexander Hamilton was challenged by Aaron Burr. Both ^ere distinguished American Statesmen, but Burr envied Hamilton’s popularity. Hamilton felt compelled by the force of public opinion to accept the challenge, but fired his pistol in the air, and was him- self killed by Burr. The following is from an address by Dr. Nott. 1. Hamilton yielded to tlie force of an imperious custom; and yielding, he '^'sacrificed a life in which all had an interest; and he is lost, lost to his country, lost to his family, lost to us. For this rash act, because he ■♦'disclaimed it, and was penitent, I forgive him. But there are those whom I can not forgive. I mean not his antagonist, over whose erring steps, if there be tears in heaven, a pious mother looks down and weeps. 2. If he be capable of feeling, he sutlers, already, all that humanity can suffer : suffers, and wherever he may fly, will suffer, with the poignant '♦'recollection of having taken the life of one, who was too '♦'magnanimous in return to attempt his own. If he had known this, it must have paralyzed his arm while he pointed, at so '♦'incorruptible a bosom, the '♦'instrument of death. Does he know this now, his heart, if it be not '♦'adamant, must soften ; if it be not ice, it must melt. * * ^ But on this article I forbear. Stained with blood as he is, if he be penitent I forgive him; and if he be not, before these altars, where all of us appear as '♦'suppliants, I wish not to excite your '♦'vengeance, but rather, in behalf of an 3. Sanct^-u-a-rv; 7i. a sacred place, a place of protection. 5. An-i-mad-vert^-ed ; v. cen- sured, reproved. 7. CoM-PUNC^-TiON ; n. remorse, sorrow from a consciousness of guilt. 8. Plen^-i-tude ; n. fullness, com- pleteness. 212 NEAY FIFTH READER. object rendered wretched and '^’pitiable by crime, to wake your prayers. 3. But I have said, and I repeat it, there are those whom I can not forgive. I can not forgive that minis- ter at the altar, who has hitherto forborne to '^'remon- strate on this subject. I can not forgive that public ■^prosecutor, who, intrusted with the duty of avenging his country’s wrongs, has seen these wrongs and taken no measures to '^avenge them. I can not forgive that judge upon the bench, or that governor in the chair of State who has lightly passed over such offenses. I can not forgive the public, in whose opinion the '^duelist finds a sanctuary. I can not forgive you, my brethren, who till this late hour have been silent, vdiile '^'succes- sive murders were committed. 4. hfo; I can not forgive you, that you have not in common with the freemen of this State, raised your voice to the powers that be, and loudly and '^'explicitly demanded an '^'execution of your laws; demanded this in a manner, which, if it did not reach the ear of gov- ernment, would at least have reached the heavens, and have pleaded your excuse before the God that filleth them; in whose presence as I stand, I should not feel myself innocent of the blood that crieth against us, had I been silent. 5. But I have not been silent. Many of you who hear me are my witnesses ; the walls of yonder temple, where I have heretofore addressed you, are my wit- nesses, how freely I have animadverted on this subject, in the presence both of those who have '^violated the laws, and of those whose '^'indispensable duty it is to see the laws executed on those who violate them. 6. I enjoy another ■^opportunity ; and would to God, I might be permitted to approach for once the last scene of death. Would to God, I could there assemble, on the one side, the '^disconsolate mother with her seven father- less children, and, on the other, those who administer the justice of my country. Could I do this, I would point them to these sad objects. ECLECTIC SERIES. 213 7. I would entreat them, by the agonies of ‘‘'bereaved fondness, to listen to the Avidow’s heart-felt groans; to mark the orphan’s sighs and tears; and having done this, I Avould uncover the breathless corpse of Hamil- ton ; I Avould lift from his gaping Avound his bloody mantle; I Avould hold it up to heaA^en before them, and 1 would ask, in the name of God, I Avould ask, Avhether at the sight of it they felt no compunction. Ye AA^ho have hearts of pity; ye who liaA^e experienced the ‘‘‘an- guish of '‘‘dissolving friendship ; who haA^e wept, and still Aveef) over the ‘‘‘moldering ruins of departed kin- dred, ye can enter into this ‘‘‘reflection. 8 . Oh thou disconsolate AvidoAv ! robbea, so cruelly robbed, and in so short a time, both of a husband and a son ! what must be the plenitude of thy suffering I Could we approach thee, gladly would Ave drop the tear of ■‘‘sympathy, and pour into thy bleeding bosom the balm of ‘‘‘consolation ! But hoAV could Ave comfort her whom God hath not comforted! To his throne let us lift up our voices and Aveep. Oh God ! if thou art still the widow’s husband, and the father of the fatherless ; if in the fullness of thy goodness, there be yet mercy in store for ‘‘‘miserable mortals, pity, oh pity this afflieted mother, and grant that her hapless ‘‘‘orphans may find a friend, a ‘‘‘benefactor, a father in Thee 1 Questions.' — Who was Ilamilton ? AVho was Burr ? What were the circumstances of their duel? AVhat is said of Hamilton? What is said of his antagonist Burr who killed him ? AVhat is said of the minister of the altar? Of the public prosecutor? Of the judge? Is there any excuse for the duelist? Parse each of the first nine words. State which is the subject^ and which the attribute of that sentence. AVhat preposition connects the objeslive modifier ^^force'^ to the attribute yielded." EXERCISE XXVIII. The tale thrilVd his heart. The thrifty man prospers. They threaded the narrow streets with scarcely a ray of light. Youih^s thoughtlessness heeds not the truths which the experience of age teaches. 214 NEW FIFTH HEADER. LESSON LXIIl.^^ vA- veii^-sjon; n. dislike. P-ro-ny; n. language intended to ^ convey a meaning contrary to its literal signification. De-ris^'-ion ; n. thR act of laughing at in contempt. In-com-pat^-i-ble ; adj. that can not exist together. TIT FOR TAT. Articulate distinctly. Do not say apprise for swr-prise , Wreci-ly for di-rec^-ly; ole maid for ol(^ maid; juss for jus^; un-der-stan for un-der-stancZ ; sliglit-es for slight-es// oh-jec for ob-jec^. Mrs. Bolingbroke. I wish I knew what was the matter with me this morning. Why do you keep the inews- v pajoer ail to yourself, my dear ? 3Ir. Bolingbroke. Here it is for you, my dear; I have J^finished it. Mrs. B. I humbly thank you for giving it to me when you have done with it. I hate '•'stale news. Is there anything in the paper? for I can not be at the trouble of hunting it. Mr. B. Yes, my dear; there are the marriages of two of our friends. Mrs.B. Who? Who? Mr. B. Your friend, the widow Hettleby, to her cousin John Hettleby. Mrs. B. Mrs. ISTettleby? Dear! But why did you tell me ? Mr. B. Because you asked me, my dear. 3frs. B. Oh, but it is a hundred times pleasanter to read the '•'paragraph one’s self. One loses all the pleas- ure of the ■•'surprise by being told. Well, whose was the other marriage? Mr. B. Oh, my dear, I will not tell you ; I will leave you the pleasure of the surprise. Mrs. B. But you see I can not find it. How '•'pro- voking you are, my dear I Do pray tell me. ECLECTIC SERIES. 21b Mr. B. Our friend, Mr. Granby. Mrs. B. Mr. Granby? Dear! Why did you not make me guess ? I should have guessed him '♦‘directly. But why do you call him our friend? I am sure he is no friend of mine, nor ever was. I took an aversion to him, as you '♦'remember, the very first day I saw him. .1 am sure he is no friend of mine. Mr. B. I am sorry for it, my dear; but I hope you will go and see Mrs. Granby. Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, my dear. Who was she? Mr. B. Miss Cooke. Mrs. B. Cooke? But there are so many Cookes. Can’t you '♦‘distinguish her any way? Has she no Christian name? Mr. B. Emma, I think. Yes, Emma. Mrs. B. Emma Cooke? No; it can not be my friend Emma Cooke ; for I am sure she was cut out for an old maid. Mr. B. This lady seems to me to be cut out for a good wife. Mrs. B. May be so. I am sure I’ll never go to see her. Pray, my dear, how came you to see so much of her? Mr. B. I have seen very little of her, my dear. I only saw her two or three times before she was married. Mrs. B. Then, my dear, how could you '♦'decide, that she was cut out for a good wife? I am sure you could not judge of her by seeing her only two or three times, and before she was married. Mr. B. Indeed, my love, that is a very just ‘♦‘observa tion. Mrs. B. I understand that ‘♦‘compliment '♦'perfectly, and thank you for it, my dear. I must own I can bear any thing better than irony. Mr. B. Irony? my dear, I was perfectly in earnest. Mrs. B. Yes, yes; in earnest; so I perceive; I may naturally be dull of ‘♦'apprehension, but my feelings are quick enough; I comprehend too well. Yes, it is im- possible to judge of a woman before marriage, or to 216 NEW FIFTH READER guess what sort ol a wife she will make. I presume you sj)eak from +experience; you have been ^disappointed yourself, and repent your choice. Mr. JB. My dear, what did I say that was like this ? Upon my word, I meant no such thing. I really was not thinking of you in the least. Mrs. JB. No, you never think of me now. I can easily believe that you Avere not thinking of me in the least. Mr. B. But I said that, only to prove to you that I could not be thinking ill of you, my dear. Mrs. B. But I would rather that you thought ill of me, than that you should not think of me at all. Mr. B. Well, my dear, I will even think ill of you, if that will please you. Mrs. B. Do you laugh at me? When it comes to this, I am wretched indeed. Never man laughed at the Avoman he loved. As long as you had the slightest remains of love for me, you could not make me an object of derision; '‘'ridicule and love are incompatible, '‘'absolutely incomi^atible. Well, I have done my best, my very best, to make you happy, but in vain. I see I am not cut out to be a good wife. Happy, happy Mrs. Granby ! Mr. B. Happy, I hope '‘'sincerely, that she will be with my friend ; but my happiness must depend on you, my love; so, for my sake, if not for your own, be com- posed, and do not '‘'torment yourself with such ’‘'fancies. Mrs. B. I do wonder whether this Mrs. Granby is really that Miss Emma Cooke. I’ll go and see her directly; see her I must. Mr. B. I am heartily glad of it, my dear ; for I am sure a visit to his wife will give my friend Granby real pleasure. Mrs. B. I promise you, my dear, I do not go to give him pleasure, or you either, but to '‘‘satisfy my oAvn '^curiosity. Questions. — AVhat inflections are proper at the pauses in the last two sentences? ECLECTIC SERIES. 217 LESSON LXIV. 1. SuRG^'-Es; n, large waves. 1. V OL-CA''-NOES ; n. burning moun- tains. 1, Ex-plo^-ding; v. throwing out with force and a loud report. 2, Con-vul''-sion; n. commotion, tumult. 2. MyrM-ad; n. a very great number. 2. Con-fla-gra^'-tion; n, a great fire. 3. La^-va; n. melted matter from a volcano. 4. Dex-ter'-i-ty; n. activity, skill. [burned. 6. Com-bust^-i-ble; adj. easily 7. Earthi-quake; n. a shaking of the earth. 8. Am-phi-the^-a-ter; n. a build- ing of a round form for public amusements. 8. A-re^'-na; n. an open space of ground. 11. Ca-tas^-tro-phe ; n. an unfor- tunate end. 11. Ob^-vi-ous-ly; adv. evidently CONFLAGRATION OF AN AMPHITHEATER. Pronounce correctly. Do not say hil-lers for bil-loz^js ; vol-lum for vol-ume (pro. vol-yum ) ; nar~rer for nar-ro2^; Jiij-jus for hic?-e- ous; mix-ter nor mix-tshure ^ov mi'si-ure ; for-tu-net~ly iov ioiirW' nate-ly; tre-men-jus nor tre-men-ju-ous for tre-menc^-ous. 1. Eome was an ocean of flame. Higlit and depth were covered with red surges, that rolled before the blast like an endless tide. The '‘'billows burst up the sides of the hills, which they turned into instant volca- noes, exploding '•'volumes of smoke and fire; then plunged into the depths in a hundred glowing '•'cata- racts, then climbed and consumed again. 2. The distant sound of the city, in her convulsion, went to the soul. The air was filled with the steady roar of the '•'advancing flame, the crash of falling houses, and the '•'hideous outcry of the myriads, flying through (he streets, or surrounded and perishing in the confla- gration. 3. All was clamor, violent '•'struggle, and helpless death. Men and women of the highest rank were on foot, '•'trampled by the rabble, that had then lost all respect for condition. One dense mass of miserable life, ■•'irresistible from its weight, crushed by the narrow .5th Pv.-^IG 218 NEW FIFTH READER. streets, and scorched by the flames over their heads, rolled through the gates like an endless stream of black lava. 4. The fire had '’'originally broken out upon the Pal- atine, and hot smoke, that wrapped and half blinded us, hung thick as night upon the wrecks of pavilions and palaces; but the dexterity and knowledge of my inex- plicable guide carried us on. 5. It was in vain that I insisted upon knowing the j)urpose of this terrible traverse. He pressed his hand upon his heart in '’'re-assurance of his fidelity, and still spurred on. We now passed under the shade of an immense range of lofty buildings, whose gloomy and solid strength seemed to bid '’'defiance to chance and time. 6. A sudden yell appalled me. A ring of fire swept round its summit: burning '’'cordage, sheets of canvas, and a shower of all things combustible, flew into the air above our heads. An uproar followed, unlike all that I had ever heard, a hideous mixture of '’'howls, shrieks, and groans. 7. The flames rolled down the narrow street before us, and made the passage next to '’'impossible. While we hesitated, a huge fragment of the building heaved as if in an earthquake, and, fortunately for us, fell inward. The whole scene of terror was then open. 8. The great amphitheater of Statilius Taurus had caught fire; the stage, with its inflammable furniture, was '’'intensely blazing below. The flames were wheeling up, circle after circle, through the seventy thousand seats that rose from the ground to the roof. I stood in ■’'unspeakable awe and wonder on the side of this '’'colos- sal cavern, this mighty temple of the city of fire. At length, a descending blast cleared away the smoke that covered the arena. 9. The cause of those horrid cries was now visible. The wild beasts kept for the games, had broken from their dens. Maddened by fright and pain, lions, tigers, panthers, wolves, whole herds of the monsters of India ECLECTIC SERIES. 219 and Africa, were inclosed in an '‘'impassable barrier of fire. 10. They bounded, they fought, they screamed, they tore; they ran howling round and round the circle; they made '‘'desperate leaps upward through the blaze; they were flung back, and fell only to fasten their fangs in each other, and, with their parching jaws bathed in blood, to die raging. 11. I looked '‘'anxiously to see whether any human being was involved in this fearful catastrophe. To my great relief, I could see none. The keepers and attend- ants had '‘'obviously escaped. As I expressed my glad- ness, I was startled by a loud cry from my guide, the first sound that I had heard him utter. 12. He pointed to the opposite side of the amphithe- ater. There indeed sat an object of '‘'melancholy inter- est; a man who had been either unable to escape, or had determined to die. Escape was now impossible. He sat in desperate calmness on his funeral pile. He was a '‘'gigantic Ethiopian slave, entirely naked. 13. He had chosen his place, as if in mockery, on the '‘'imperial throne; the fire was above him and around him, and under this tremendous '‘■canopy he gazed, without the movement of a muscle, on the combat of the wild beasts below; a solitary sovereign, with the whole tremendous game played for himself, and inaccessible to the power of man. Questions. — Where is Rome? What is a conflagration? What had happened to Rome? What is an amphitheater? To whom do we owe our preservation from fire, and from other calamities? EXERCISE XXIX. Thou indulged^ st the appetite. Oh wind ! that waff si us o’er the main. Thou tempted’ si him. Thou loved’ st him fondly. Thou crediied’st his story. The lists are open. The light dazzl’d his eyes. They were puzzl’d by the intricacies of the path. In vain thou muzzl’d’ st the tierce beast 220 NEAV FIFTH HEADER. LESSON LXV./'; ! A-R^-ras; n. a kind of curtains liung around the walls of a room. ^ UN-CLEAN^-Lr ; adj, un-klen'-^ l^) indecent. ' Wan^-ton-ness; n. playfulness/ sportiveness. 2f ^Ciirist^-en-dom; n. territory of Christians ; used for christer^^' ing or baptism, as if he said^j By my baptism. Prate; .7i. familiar talk. Sooth; n. truth. / ^ Rheum ; n. (pro. rume) here use^^ for tears. [pityt Dis-piT^'-E-ous ; adj. cruel, withou^ y^FouL; adj. wicked, abominable (jji^-NON^; adv. soon; still and anon means^ now and then, fre- quently, INCE ; V. to shrink back as from pain. Cfiii); V. blamed, reproached. (^N-NOY^-ANCE; n. any thing which injures or troubles. ^Trotii; n. truth, veracity. Ex-tremes^; n. the greatest degree of distress; undeserved extremes meanSj acts of cruelty which he had not deserved. ITarre; V. (pro, tar) to tease, to set on. Bog^-ged; adj. surly, stubborn. ^ ose^-ly; adv. secretly, privately. PRINCE ARTHUR. Pronounce correctly. I-rons, pro. i-mms; un-clean-ly, pro. un- clen-ly; Christ-en-dom, pro. Krifn~dum ; pris-on, pro. 'priz’n ; rnin-utes, pro. min~its ; pret-ty, pro. prit4y. , Hubert. Heat me these irons hot; and, look, thou stand Within the arras ; when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth. And bind the boy, which you shall find with me. Fast to the chair ; be heedful : hence, and watch. 4 First Attendant. I hope your '^'warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly '•‘scruples ! Fear not you : look to it. (^Exeunt Attendants.') Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. (Enter Arthur.) Arthur. Good morrow, Hubert. 'Hub. Good morrow, little prince. f Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To ])e more prince) as may bo. Yon are sad KCLECTIC SERIES. 221 ^Huh, Indeed, I have been merrier. ^Artli Mercy on me I Methinks no person should bo sad but 1 ; Yet I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night. Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 1 should be merry as the day is long ; And so would I be here, but that I doubt My uncle '^practices more harm to me : He is afraid of me, and I of him. Is it my fault that I were Geoffrey’s son ? No, indeed, is ’t not ; and I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. ^ Hub, If I talk to him, with his '^'innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. /^Arth, Are you sickt^Hubert ? You look pale to-day. In sooth, I would you were a little sick. That I might sit all night, and watch with you, 1 warrant I love you more than you do me. iiHuh, His words do take possession of my bosom. Bead here, young Arthur. {Showing a paper.) How now, foolish rheum? {Aside.) Turning tdispiteous torture out of door ! I must be brief, lest '^'resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. Can you not read it ? Is it not fair writ? /j^Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect : Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? /j Hub. Young boy, I must. Arth. And will you ? - j • // Hub. And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best 1 had, a princess wrought it me). And 1 did never ask it you again: 222 NEW FIFTH READER. And with my hand, at midnight, held your head. And like the watchful minutes to the hour. Still and anon cheered up the heavy time ; Saying, What lack you? and. Where lies your grief? Or, What good love may I perform for you ? Many a poor man’s son would have lain still. And ne’er have spoke a loving word to you ; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was ’^crafty love. And call it cunning : do, an if you will : If heaven he pleased that you should use me ill. Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes ? These eyes, that never did, nor never shall, ^ So much as frown on you ? / I have sworn to do it ; And with hot irons must I burn them out. / Ah, none but in this iron age would do it : The iron of itself, though heat red-hot. Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears. And ■*‘quench its "^fiery indignation. Even in the matter of mine innocence : Nay, after that, consume away in rust. But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are 3 ^ou more stubborn-hard than hammered iron? And if an angel should have come to me. And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not have believed no tongue but Hubert’s. Come forth. (^Stamps.') (Re-enter Attendants^ with Do as I bid you. \cord^ irons, &c.) Arth, Oh, save me, Hubert, save me ! My eyes are oul Even with the ^fierce looks of these bloody men Huh, Give me the iron, 1 say, and bind him here. Arth, Alas ! what need you be so boisterous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven’s sake, Hubert ! let me not be bound ! Nay, hear me, Hubert ! drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb : ECLECTIC SERIES. 223 1 wili not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, JSTor look u 2 )on the irons ^angrily; Thrust but these men away, and I’ll forgive you. Whatever torment you do put me to. ? Go stand within ; let me alone with him. 2.^15^ At. 1 am best pleased to be from such a deed. (Ex. At ) 2^ Arth Alas 1 I then have chid away my friend : lie hath a stern look but a gentle heart : Let him come back, that his ^compassion may Give life to yours. LCJSuh. Come, boy, prepare yourself. £ ^Artli. Is there »o remedy ? 2^IIub. ISTone, but to lose your eyes. 2,^Art]i. Oh, heaven ! that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair. Any annoyance in that *^precious sense ! Then, feeling what small things are '^boisterous there. Your vile '^intent must needs seem horrible. Huh. Is this your promise ? Go to, hold your tongue. ^ !Arth. Hubert, the '^utterance of a '•'brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : Let me not hold my tongue ! let me not, Hubert 1 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue. So I may keep mine eyes. Oh, spare mine eyes, Though to no use, but still to look on you I Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold. And would not harm me. X irih r . Bub. Arth. I can heat it, boy. Ho, in good sooth, the fire is dead with griefs — Being create for comfort — to be used In undeserved extremes. See else yourself. There is no malice in this burning coal ; The breath of heaven hath blown its spirit out, And ■^'strewed repentant ashes on its head. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. And if you do, you will but make it blush 224 NEW EIETH HEADER. •.j ^Eub. Artli, Huh. And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hu bert ; Nay, it '^'perchance will sparkle in your e3^es, And, like a dog, that is ^compelled to fight. Snatch at his master that does tarre him on All things, that you should use to do me wrong, Deny their office ; only you do lack That mercy, which fierce fire and iron extend, Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. Well, see to live ] I will not touch thine ej^es For all the treasure that thy uncle owns; Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy. With this same very iron to burn*them out. Oh, now you look like Hubert ! all this while You were '^'disguised. Peace : no more : Adieu ! Your uncle must not know but you are dead : I ’ll fill these dogged +spies with false '^reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world. Will not offend thee. Arth. Oh heaven ! I thank you, Hubert. Huh. Silence : no more. Go closely in with me. Much danger do I undergo for thee. Questions. — Why was Hubert about to kill Arthur? What Jid Arthur say ? What was the result of his entreaties? What is the subject of the last sentence ? What is the attribute 9 EXERCISE XXX. The throne was thronged with suppliants. The thrush and the oriole seemed to vie in song. He is thorough through all. Spring- ing^ swinging, clinging, the VipQ jumps from branch to branch. The subjects were appropriate to the circumstances. Bejiection is desira- hle under difficult exigencies. A catapult is an engine for throwing stones. A cataplasm is a soft poidtice. Drifting, and almost drowned, he drank the briny wave. From star „to star the livid lightnings flash. ECLECTIC SERIES. 225 LESSON LXVI. Can^-ni-bals; n. men wlio eat hu- man flesh. [vaders. Ag-gres^-sors ; n, the first in- Ven-'-i-son; n. (pro. ven^-e-z'n or ven^'-z^n) the flesh of deer. CoL^-o-NY ; n, a company of per- sons removing to a new coun- try, but remaining subject to the parent country. Keg^-i-ment ; n, a body of troops CHAELES II. AND WILLIAM PENN. Pronounce correctly. Do not say sav-ij-is for sav-a-ges ; kit-tle for ket-tle ; idee for i-de-a ; reg-i-miint for reg-i-ment ; mush-its for musk-ets ; coivira'-ry for con^-tra-ry ; suh-jic^ for sub-jec^s ; weapon for weap-on. J King Charles, Well^, friend William^! I have sold yon a noble province in ITorth America ; but still, I suj)- pose you have no thoughts of going thither yourself, 2 , Penn, Yes, I have, I "^assure thee, friend Charles ; and I am just come to bid thee farewell. ^ K, C, What^ ! venture yourself among the "^savages of North America^! Why^, man^, what '•'security have you that you will not be in their war kettle in two hours after setting foot on their shores ? ^ P, The best security in the world. (3^ K, C, I doubt that, friend William ; I have no idea of any security, against those cannibals, but in a '•'regi- ment of good soldiers, with their muskets and '•'bayonets. And mind^, I tell you beforehand^, that, with all my good will for you and your family, to whom I am under ■•'obligations, I will not send a single soldier with you. (p P, want none of thy soldiers, Charles : I depend on something better than thy soldiers. K, G, Ah^I what may be? 'Y P, Why, I depend upon themselves'^ ; on the working of their oion hearts'^; on their notions of justice'^; on their moral sense. 22G NEW FIFTH READER. K, C. A fine thing, this same moral sense, no doubt ; but 1 fear you will not find much of it among the Indians of North America. P. And why not among them, as well as others ? j K. C. Because if they had possessed any, they would not have treated my tsubjects so "^barbarously as they have done. P. That is no +proof of the ^contrary, friend Charles. Thy subjects were the aggressors. When thy subjects first went to North America, they found these poor people the fondest and kindest creatures in the world. Every day, they would watch for them to come ashore, and hasten to meet them, and feast them on the best fish, and venison, and corn, which were all they had. In return for this hospitality of the savages, as we call them, thy subjects, termed Christians, seized on their country and rich hunting grounds, for farms for themselves. Now, is it to be wondered at, that these much injured people should have been driven to **'des- peration by such "^injustice ; and that, burning with +re- venge, they should have committed some '^'excesses ? K. G. Well, then, I hope you will not complain when they come to treat you in the same manner. P. I am not afraid of it. K. C. Ah ! how will you avoid it ? You mean to get their hunting grounds too, I suppose ? ■ P. Yes^, but not by driving these poor people away from them. K. Q. No, indeed^? How then will you get their lands ? P. I mean to buy their lands of them. K. C. Buy their lands of them^f Why, man, you have already bought them of me, P. Yes, I know I have, and at a dear rate, too : but 1 did it only to get thy good will, not that I thought thou hadst any right to their lands. K. C. How^, man^? no right to their lands? ECLECTIC SERIES. 227 ' P. No, friend Charles, no rights no right at all: vjhat right hast thou to their lands ? ) K. C. Why^, the right of '^discovery^^ to be sure; the right which the Pope and all Christian kings have agreed to give one another. ^ P. The right of discovery? A strange kind of right, indeed. Now, suppose, friend Charles, that some '^canoe load of these Indians, crossing the sea, and '^'discovering til is island of Great Britain, were to claim it as their own, and set it up for sale over thy head, what wouldst thou think of it? K. G. Why — why — why — I must confess, I should think it a piece of great Hmpudence'^ in them. P. Well, then, how canst thoxi^ a Christian^ and a Christian 'prince too, do that which thou so utterly con- demnest in these people^ whom thou callest savages? Yes, friend Charles; and suppose, again, that these Indians, on thy refusal to give up thj island of Great Britain, were to make war on thee, and, having w^eapons. more '^'destructive than thine, were to destroy many of thy subjects, and drive the rest away, — wouldst thou not think it '^horribly cruel? ‘ 2 . 7K- G. I must say, friend William, that I should; how can I say otherwise? 2^ 9 p. Well, then, how can I, who call myself a Christian^ do what I should '^abhor even in the heathen? No. 1 will not do it. But I will buy the right of the proper owners, even of the Indians themselves. By doing this, I shall ■^'imitate God himself, in his '^Justice and mercy, and thereby insure his blessing on my colony, if I should ever live to plant one in North America. Questions. — What part of the United States was pur«hased and settled by William Penn? Upon what was the king’s right founded? In whom was the real right? Why? What did Penn say to con- vince the king that America did not belong to him? What plan did Penn propose to adopt, to secure the good will of the Indians? Ex- plain the inflections marked. In the last sentence, which are the personal pronouns of the first person? Which of the third person? Which are the verbs? Which of them is in the participal mode ? Which are in the future tense, indicative mode? 228 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON LXYIlJ / 1. Dis-so-lu^-tion ; n. death, se- paration of the soul and body. 5, In-ad^-e-quate ; adj. partial, not equal to the reality. 6. Rav^-a-ges : n, destruction, ruin. Ex-trem''-i-ties ; n. utmost distress : last extremities here means death, 8. Pro-lon-ga^-tion ; n. the act of lengthening. 8. Ve^'-hi-cles ; n. carriages of any kind. 8. Re-cep^-ta-cles ; n. places in which to receive any thing. 9. As-si-du^-i-ties ; n. services rendered with zeal and kind- ness. 10. CoN-TA^-GiON ; n, pestilence, sickness spreading from the touch. 12. De-ci^-pher’d ; v. explained. HORRORS OF WAR. Pronounce correctly. Do not say Jinll for whole; dis-sy-iu- iionioT dis-so-lu-tion ; •at-tact for at-tac/i;; mod-er-it for mod-er- ate; for cli-mates ; for rav-a-ges ; hea-ven, pro. heaven, 1. Though the whole race of man is doomed to dissolution, and we are hastening to our long home; yet, at each '^successive moment, life and death seem to divide between them the '^dominion of mankind, and life to have the larger share. It is otherwise in war; death reigns there without a rival, and without '^'control. 2. War is the work, the element, or rather the sport and triumph of death, who here glories not only in the extent of his conquests, but in the richness of his spoil. In the other methods of attack, in the other forms which death '^assumes, the feeble and the aged, who at best can live but a short time, are usually the victims; here they are the "^vigorous and the strong. 3. It is remarked by the most ancient of poets, that in jpeace,, children bury their parents^; in war, parents bury their children'^, nor is the difference small. ChiU dren lament their parents, sincerely, indeed, but with that moderate and ‘^'tranquil sorrow, which it is natural for those to feel who are conscious of retaining many^ tender ties, many animating prospects. ECLECTIC SERIES. 229 4. Parents mourn for their children Wxih the bitter- ness of despair ; the aged parent, the widowed mother, loses, when she is deprived of her children, every thing but the capacity of suffering ; her heart, withered and ■^desolate, admits no other object, '^'cherishes no other hope. It is Eachel, weeping for her children, and re- fusing to be comforted, because they are not. 5. But, to confine our attention to the number of the slain, would give us a very inadequate idea of the rav- ages of the sword. The lot of those who perish '^instan- taneously may be considered, apart from religious prospects, as '^comparatively happy, since they are exempt from those lingering diseases and slow torments to which others are so liable. 6. We can not see an individual '^expire, though a stranger or an enemy, without being sensibly moved and prompted by compassion to lend him every 'tassist- ance in our power. Every trace of '^resentment vanishes in a moment ; every other emotion gives way to pity and terror. 7. In the last extremities, we remember nothing but the respect and tenderness due to our common nature. What a scene, then, must a field of battle present, where thousands are left without assistance, and without pity, with their wounds exposed to the '^piercing air, while the blood, freezing as it fiows, binds them to the earth, amid the '^trampling of horses, and the insults of an ■^'enraged foe ! 8. If they are spared by the humanity of the enemy, and carried from the field, it is but a prolongation of Horment. Conveyed in uneasy vehicles, often to a remote distance, through roads almost impassable, they are lodged in ill-prepared receptacles for the wounded and sick, where the '^'variety of distress baflies all the efforts of '^'humanity and skill, and renders it impossible to give to each the attention he demands. 9. Far from their native home, no tender assiduities of friendship, no well-known voice, no wife, or mother, or sister, are near to soothe their sorrows, relieve their 230 NEW FIFTH READER. thirst, or close their cjcs in death! Unhappy manl and must you be swept into the grave '^unnoticed and ■^unnumbered, and no friendly tear be shed for your sufferings, or mingled with your dust? 10. We must remember, however, that as a very small proportion of '^military life is spent in actual '‘'combat, so it is a very small part of its miseries which must be ascribed to this source. More are consumed by the rust of inactivity than by the edge of the sword; confined to a scanty or '‘'unwholesome diet, exposed in sickly climates, harassed with tiresome marches and '‘'perpetual alarms ; their life is a continual scene of hardships and danger. They grow '‘'familiar with hunger, cold, and watchfulness. Crowded into hospitals and prisons, con- tagion spreads among their ranks, till the ravages of disease exceed those of the enemy. 11. We have hitherto only ‘‘'adverted to the sufferings of those Avho are engaged in the profession of armfe, without taking into our account the situation of the countries which are the scenes of hostilities. How dreadful to hold every thing at the mercy of an enemy, and to receive life itself as a boon dependent on the sword 1 12. How boundless the fears which such a situation must inspire, where the '‘'issues of life and death are determined by no known laws, principles, or customs, and no '‘'conjecture can be formed of our destiny, except so far as it is dimly deciphered in characters of blood, in the '‘'dictates of revenge, and the caprices of power! 13. Conceive, but for a moment, the consternation which the approach of an ^invading army would impress on the peaceful villages in our own neighbor- hood. When you have placed yourselves in that situa- tion, 3 "Ou will learn to '‘'sympathize with those unhappy countries which have sustained the ravages of arms. But how is it possible to give you an idea of these horrors ! 14. Here, you behold rich harvests, the bounty of heaven, and the reward of industry, consumed in a moment, or trampled under foot, while famine and ECLECTIC SERIES. 231 ^pestilence follow the steps of '^'desolation. Tliere, the cottages of peasants given up to the fiamcs, mothers exjDiring through fear, not for themselves, but their infants; the inhabitants flying with their helpless babes in all directions, miserable fugitives on their native soil! 15. Ill another place, you witness "^ opulent cities taken by storm ; the streets, where no sounds were heard but those of peaceful industry, filled on a sudden with slaughter and blood, resounding with the cries of the pursuing and the pursued ; the palaces of nobles demol- ished, the houses of the rich pillaged, and every age, sex, and rank, mingled in '^'promiscuous massacre and mini LESSON LXVIII. I it is — it is the cannon's"^ opening roa^ ! 3 Ah ! then and there was ^hurrying to and fro^. And gathering tears, and '^'tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale^, which, but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own '^'lovelin^ss^ ; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne’er might be repeated — who could guess If ever more should meet those '‘‘mutual eyes. Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise. 4 And there was '’'mounting in hot haste^; the steed'', The ‘‘‘mustering squadron^, and the '‘‘clattering car^ Went pouring forward with ‘‘‘impetuous speed. And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar. And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; While '‘'thronged the '‘‘citizens with terror dumb. Or whispering with white lips — “ The foe'" ! They com.e:" ! They come'" /” ECLECTIC SERIES. 233 5 And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature’s teardrops, as they pass, ^Grieving, if aught ^inanimate e’er grieves. Over the +unreturning brave ! — alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass. Which, noWj beneath them, but above, shall grow, In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valor, rolling on the foe, And burning with high hope, shall '^molder, cold and low. 6 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in beauty’s circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of ^strife, The morn, the marshaling in arms, — the day, Battle’s magnificently stern array! The thunder clouds close o’er it, which when rent. The earth is covered thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and +pent, Eider and horse, — friend, foe — in one red burial blent. Questions. — When, where, and between what parties and com- manders was the battle of W aterloo fought ? What is described in flie first few lines? What place is meant by the capital of Belgium? What were the officers doing when the sound of the distant battle was heard ? What instances of absolute emphasis in the second stanza ? What, of relative emphasis in the fifth stanza ? How should the last line of the fourth stanza be read ? EXERCISE XXXI. Thwack went the bludgeon athwart the brittle beam. The falVn flag was draggVd in the brine. Blotched and bloated^ the blear^ eyed swaggerer staggered onward. The high bred Briton braves the 6a^^?6-field. The chill precincts of the dreaded tomb. Shot madly from Us sphere. Lifers fitful fever over, he rests well 234 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON LXIX. 1, De void'' ; adj, destitute. 2. Rec^'-ti-tude ; n, correctness of principle. 4. Vision; w. faculty of sight. 6, Cas^-u-al; adj. accidental. 6. Com^-plai-sance; n. (pro. com^- pla-zance) obliging treatment. 8. Sec-'-u-lar; adj, w(frldly. 9^ Tam^-per ; V, to meddle with improperly. 11. En«tatl^; V. to fix unalienably upon a particular person. 13/ Pelf; n. money, riches. 13. Com-pen-sa^-tion ; n. amends. LOVE OF APPLAUSE. Sound the r clearly in the following words : are, mark, bard, hard, lard, barb, garb, hear, clear, dear, near, tear, arm, harm, charm, lord, cord, far, care, course, never, merely, conform. Be careful also to pronounce correctly. Do not say oth-uz for oth-ers ; root for rwle ; vir-ioo for virt-we ; rec-ti-tsliude for rec-ti twde ; ud-c^t for a-dopt ; mus-sy for mer-cy ; com-^laV -sance for com^-plai-sance ; sa-cri-Jis for sac-ri-D'ce ; sec-ky-lar nor sec-ew-lar for sec-w-lar ; mor-uls for mor-als ; scru-py-Ious for scru-pw-lous. •1. To he ^insensible to public opinion, or to the esti- mation in which we are held by others, indicates any thing, rather than a good and generous spirit. It is, in- deed, the mark of a low and worthless character; devoid of principle, and therefore devoid of shame. A young man is not far from ruin, when he can say without blushing, I do n't care what others think of me, 2. But to have a proper regard to public opinion, Is one thing; to make that opinion our rule of action, is quite another. The one we may cherish ^consistently with the purest virtue, and the most unbending recti- tude; the other we can not adopt, without an utter ■^■abandonment of principle and disregard of duty. 3. The young man whose great aim is to please, who makes the opinion and favor of others his rule and motive of action, stands ready to adopt any '^'sentiments, or pursue any course of conduct, however false and ■♦■criminal, provided only that it be po^mlar. ECLECTIC SERIES. 235 4. In every ^emergency, liis first question is, what will my companions, what will the world think and say of me, if I adopt this or that course of conduct? Duty, the ’^eternal laws of rectitude, are not thought of. Cus tom, fashion, '’'popular favor: these are the things that fill his entire vision, and decide every question of opinion and duty. 5. Such a man can never he trusted; for he has no ■’'integrity, and no independence of mind to obey the dictates of rectitude. He is at the mercy of every casual ■’'impulse and change of ’’'popular opinion ; and you can no more tell whether he will be right or wrong to-mor- row, than you can predict the course of the wind, or what shape the clouds will then assume. 6. And what is the usual consequence of this weak and foolish regard to the opinions of men? What the end of thus acting in '’'compliance with custom in opposi- tion to one’s own conviction of duty? It is to lose the esteem and respect of the very men whom you thus attempt to please. Your defect of principle and ■’’hoHow- heartedness are easily '’’perceived: and though the per- sons to whom you thus '’'sacrifice your conscience, may affect to commend your complaisance, you may be ’’assured, that, inwardly, they despise you Jfor it. 7. Young men hardly commit a greater mistake, than to think of gaining the esteem of others, by yielding to their wishes contrary to their own sense of duty. Such conduct is always ’’'morally wrong, and rarely fails to ■’’deprive one, both of self-respect and the respect of others. 8. It is very common for young men, just com- mencing business, to imagine that, if they would advance their secular interests, they must not be very scrupulous in binding themselves down to the strict rules of recti- tude. They must conform to custom ; and if, in buying and selling, they sometimes say things that are not true, and do things that are not honest; why, their ricigh- bors do the same; and, verily, there is no getting along without it. There is so much competition and '’’rivalrv NEW FIFTH HEADER. 236 that, to be ’^strictly honesty and yet succeed in business, is out of the question. 9. Now, if it Avere indeed so, I Avould say to a young man ; then, quit your business. Better dig, and beg too, than to tamper with conscience, sin against God, and lose your soul. 10 . But is it so? Is it necessary, in order to succeed in business, that 3^011 should adopt a ^standard of morals, more lax and pliable, than the one placed before you in the Bible? Perhaps for a time, a rigid ‘^adherence to rectitude might bear hard upon you; but how would it be in the end? Possibly, 3 ^ 0111 * neighbor, by being less ‘‘'scrupulous than yourself, may invent a more ‘‘'expedi- tious way of acquiring a fortune. If he is Avilling to violate the dictates of conscience, to lie and cheat, and trample on the rules of justice and honesty, he may, indeed, get the start of you, and rise suddenly to wealth and distinction. 11 . But would you envy him his riches, or be Avilling to place yourself ^in his situation? Sudden Avealth, ‘‘especially when obtained by dishonest means, rarely fails of bringing with it sudden ruin. Those who acquire it, are of course beggared in their morals, and are often, very soon, beggared in property. Their riches are ‘‘‘cor- rupted; and while they bring the curse of God on their ■‘‘immediate ‘‘‘possessors, they usually entail misery and ruin upon their families. 12. If it be admitted, then, that strict integrity is not always the shortest way to success, is it not the surest, the happiest, and the best? A young man of thorough integrity may, it is true, find it difficult, in the midst of dishonest ‘‘‘competitors and rivals, to start in his business or ‘‘‘profession; but hoAV long, ere he will surmount every difficulty, draAV around him ‘‘‘patrons and friends, and rise in the confidence and support of all who know him. 13. What, if, in pursuing this course, you should not, at the close of life, have so much mone 3 ’', by a fcAV hun- dred dollars? Will not a fiiir character, an approving ECLECTIC SERIES. 237 couscience, and an approving God, bo an abundant com- pensation for this little ^deficiency of pelf? 14. Oh, there is an hour coming, when one whisper of an approving mind, one smile of an approving God, will be accounted of more value than the wealth of a thou- sand worlds like this. In that hour, my young friends, nothing will sustain you but the '^'consciousness of having beer, governed in life by worthy and good principles. Questions. — What erroneous opinion is common concerning the oecessity of strict honesty ? Why should a young man have a proper respect for public opinion ? What will be the consequence of disre- garding this? In the fifth paragraph, in the following sentence, “ Such a man can never be trusted,” which word is the tVhat is the attribute? LESSON LXX. 1. Note; n. notice. 1. Knell; n. the sound of the funeral bell. 2. Verge; n. the brink-, the edge. 3. Ab^-ject ; adj. worthless, mean. 3. Au-gust^; adj. grand, majestic. 3. Com^-pli-cate; adj. complex. composed of many parts. 3. Ex^-quis-ite ; adj. nice, com- plete. 3. E-tiie^'-re-al ; adj. heavenly. 3. Sul'-lied ; v. stained, soiled. 3. Ab-sorpt^; v. wasted, swallow- ed up. 5. Ean-tas^-tic ; adj. fanciful, ex- isting only in imagination. 5. An^-tic; adj. odd, fanciful. 5. Sub^-tler; adj. (pro. sut-tler\ more delicate. 5. Es^-sence; n. existence, sub- stance. 6. Weal; n. prosperity. 6. IIus^-band; v. to manage with economy. MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. Remark. — Let each pupil in the class observe and mention every «y liable that is not sounded as each one reads. Pronjunce correctly. Do not say ann-gel for an-gel (pro. ane- gel); for heard (pro. herd); for de-mands ; com- pli-ldt for com-pli-cate ; ex-qids^4te for ex^-quis-ite; db-ser-lide ior ab-so-lute ; Jius-buns for hus-banc?8. 1. The bell strikes One. W e take no note of time, But from its loss : to give it then a tongue 238 NEW FIFTH READER. Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they? With the years beyond the flood It iS^the signal that demands ^dispatch. 2 How much is to be done ! My hopes and fears Start up alarmed, and o’er life’s narroAV verge Look down — on what? A fathomless '^'ahyss, A dread eternity, how surely mine ! And can eternity belong to me. Poor ^pensioner on the bounties of an hour? 3. How poor, how rich, how abject, how august. How complicate, how wonderful is man ! How passing wonder He who made him such ! Who centered in our make such strange extremes Prom different natures *^marvelously mixed, Connection exquisite of distant worlds ! Distinguished link in being’s endless chain ! Midway from nothing to the Deity ! A beam ethereal, sullied, and absorpt ! Though sullied and dishonored, still divine ! Dim ***miniature of greatness absolute ! An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust ! Helpless '^immortal ! insect infinite ! A worm 1 a god ! — I tremble at myself. And in myself am lost. L At home a stranger. Thought wanders up and down, surprised, ‘’’aghast, And wondering at her own. How reason reels! Oh what a miracle to man is man I Triumphantly distressed! what joy! what dread! +Alternately transported and alarmed ; What can preserve my life ! or what destroy ! An angel’s arm can’t snatch me from the grave; ‘’‘Legions of angels can’t confine me there. 5. ’ T is past ’’‘conjecture ; all things rise in proof. While o’er my limbs Sleep’s soft dominion spread, ECLECTIC SERIES. 239 What though my soul fantastic measures trod O’er fairy fields, or mourned along the gloom Of pathless woods, or down the ‘♦'craggy steep, Hurled headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool. Or scaled the cliff, or danced on hollow winds With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain! Her ceaseless fiight, though '♦‘devious, speaks her nature Of subtler essence than the trodden clod ; Active, ‘♦‘aerial, towering, un confined. Unfettered with her ‘♦'gross companion’s fall. 6. Even silent night ‘♦’proclaims my soul immortal; Even silent night proclaims eternal day. For human weal Heaven husbands all events: Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in vain. Questions. — What leads us to take “ note of time? Repeat some of the epithets applied to man. What does one class of these epk thets represent man to he ? In what light does the other class con- sider him? In what respect is he a “worm? ’’ How can he he called a “god?'^ What is the state of the mind during sleep? What does this prove ? EXERCISE XXXII. The krahen is probably a fabulous animal. The kremlin is the Russian emperor^ s palace. With his crutch he crushed ih.Q flowers. The prank was not praiseworthy. The props were prop^d by other props. The crafty creatures crawVd in crowds. The proud prig prates. 240 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON LXXI.// U Car-a-van^-sa-ry ; n. a kind of inn where caravans or large companies of traders rest at night. 5. Me-an^-ders; n. windings or turnings. 6. Cir-cum-vo-lu^-tion; n. a wind- ing or flowing around. 7. De-vi-a^-tion; n. a turning aside from the right way. 9. Sa^-ber; n. a kind of sword. 12. Mit-i-ga^-tion ; n. lessening the pain. 14> Im-merge^; v, to plunge into. 14. Lab^-y-rinth; n, a place full of winding passages. A PICTURE OF HUMAN LIFE. Articulate all the consonants in the following and similar words in this lesson: fresh, Hindoostan, swiftly, sprinkled, fra- grance, primrose, tempted, thickets, greatest, prospect, overspread, remembrance, resolved, prostrated, torrents, gratitude, occurrences, escapes, en^ngle, labyrinth. 1. Obidah, the son of Abensina, left the caravansary early in the morning, and pursued his journey through the j)lains of Hindoostan. He was fresh and vigorous with rest; he was ^animated with hope ; he was ■‘‘incited by desire : he walked swiftly forward over the valleys and saw the hills '‘‘gradually rising before him. 2. As he passed along, his ears were delighted with the morning song of the bird of paradise ; he was fanned by the last flutters of the sinking breeze, and sprinkled with dew by groves of spices ; he sometimes ‘‘‘contem- plated the ‘‘‘towering hight of the oak, monarch of the hills ; and sometimes caught the gentle ‘‘‘fragrance of the ♦■primrose, eldest daughter of the spring: all his senses svere gratified, and all care was banished from his heart. 3. Thus he went on, till the sun approached his ‘‘‘meri- dian, and the increasing heat preyed upon his strength ; he then looked round about him for some more ‘‘‘commo- dious path. He saw, on his right hand, a grove that seemed to wave its shades as a sign of ‘‘‘invitation ; ho entered it, and found the coolness and verdure ‘‘‘irresisti- bly pleasant. He did not, however, forget whithev he ECLECTIC SERIES. 241 M’as traveling, but found a narrow way, bordered with flowers,.which appeared to have the same direction with the main road, and was pleaded, that, by this happy '^'experiment, he had found means to unite pleasure with business, and to gain the rewards of '^diligence without ‘^’suffering its '^fatigues. 4. He, therefore, still continued to walk for a time, without the least remission of his ardor, except that he was sometimes tempted to stop by the music of the birds, which the heat had assembled in the shade, and some- times amused himself with plucking the flowers that covered the banks on each side, or the fruits that hung upon the branches. At last, the green path began to decline from its first '^'tendency, and to wind among the nills and thickets, cooled with fountains, and '‘'murmur- ing with '^'waterfalls. 5. Here Obidali paused for a time, and began to con- sider, whether it was longer safe to forsake the known and common track ; but, remembering that the heat was now in its greatest violence, and that the plain was dusty and uneven, he resolved to pursue the new path, which he supposed only to make a few meanders, in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and to end at last in the common road. 6. Having thus calmed his '^solicitude, he renewed his pace, though he suspected he was not gaining ground. This uneasiness of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new object, and give way to every '^sensation that might soothe or divert him. He listened to every '*'echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh prospect, he turned aside to every '’'cascade, and pleased himself with tracing the course of a gentle river, that rolled among the trees, and watered a large region, with '’'innumerable circum- Tolutions. 7. In these amusements, the hours passed away un- counted; his deviations had '’'perplexed his memory, and he knew not toward what point to travel. He stood ’■pensive and confused, afraid to go forward lest ho should go wrong, yet conscious that the time of '’'loitering 5th R.— 21 ‘ 242 NEW FIFTH READER. was now past. While he was thus tortured with uncer- tainty, the sky was overspread with clouds, the day vanished from before him, and a sudden tempest gath- ered round his head. 8. lie was now roused, by his danger, to a quick and painful remembrance of his folly ; he now saw how hap- piness is lost when ease is consulted; he lamented the unmanly f impatience that ^prompted him to seek shelter in the grove, and despised the petty curiosity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflect- ing, tlie air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation. 9. He now resolyed to do what remained yet in his power ; to tread back the ground which he had passed, and try to find some "tissue, Vvdiere the wood might open into the plain. He '^'prostrated himself upon the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rose with “^confidence and '^tranquillity, and pressed on with his saber in his hand ; for the beasts of tlve desert were in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage, and fear, and “^ravage, and expiration : all the horrors of darkness and solitude sur rounded him ; the winds roared in the woods, and the '^'torrents tumbled from the hills. 10. Thus, forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to “^destruction. At length, not fear, but labor, began to overcome him; his breath grew short, and his knees trembled, and he was on the point of lying down, in “^resignation to his fate, when he beheld, through the brambles, the glimmer of a taper. He advanced toward the light, and finding that it proceeded from the '^'cottagG of a hermit, he called humbly at the door, and obtained admission. The old man set before him such provision? as he had collected for himself, on which Obidah fed • with “’'eagerness and “’'gratitude. 11. When the repast was over, “Tell me,” said the hermit, “by what chance thou hast been brought hither; ECLECTIC SERIES. 24c.' 1 have been now twenty years an '•'inhabitant of this wilderness, in which I never saw a man before.” Obidah then related the '•'occurrences of his journey, without any concealment or palliation. 12. “ Son,” said the hermit, “ let the errors and follies, the dangers and escapes, of this day, sink deep into your heart. Eemember, my son, that human life is the journey of a day. We rise in the morning of youth, full of vigor, and full of '•'expectation; we set forward with spirit and hope, with '•'gayety and with diligence, and travel on awhile in the straight road of piety, toward the mansions of rest. In a short time we remit our fervor, and endeavor to find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means of obtaining the same end. 13. “ We then relax our vigor, and resolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance, but rely upon our own constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose in the shades of security. Here the heart softens, and '•'vigilance '•'subsides : we are then wil- ling to inquire whether another advance can not be made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with '•’scruple and hesitation ; we enter them, but enter ttim- orous and trembling, and always hope to pass through them without losing the road of virtue, which we, for awhile, keep in our sight, and to which we propose to return. 14. “But temptation succeeds temptation, and one ■•‘compliance prepares us for another; we, in time, lose the happiness of innocence, and solace our disquiet with sensual gratifications. By degi;ees we let fall the '•'re- membrance of our '•'original intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational desire. We entangle our- selves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths of '•'inconstancy, till the darkness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We then look back upon our lives 2U NEW FIFTH READER. witli liorror, with sorrow, and with repentance: and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had not for- saken the paths of virtue. 15. “ Happy are they, my son, who shall learn, from thy example, not to despair, but shall remember, that, though the day is past, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one effort to be made ; that '♦'reforma- tion is never hopeless, nor sincere '♦'endeavors ever unas- sisted ; that the wanderer may at length return, after all his errors. And that he, who-'^'miplores strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Go now, my son, to thy repose ; com- mit thyself to the care of '♦'Omnipotence ; and, when the morning calls again to toll, begin anew thy journey and thy life.” LESSON l. Shaft; n. tlie body of a column. 1. Arch^-i-trave ; n, (pro. ar¥- e-trave) that part which rests immediately upon the column. 1 . Vault ; n. an arched roof. 2. Swayed ; v. moved, waved back and forth. 3. Sanct-'-u-a-ries ; n. places set apart for the worship of God. 5. Shrine ; n. a box for sacred relics, here a place for wor- shiping God. 6. Fan-tas^-tic ; adj. whimsical. LXXIly y 8. Wells; v. issues forth as wa- ter from the earth. 9. An-ni^-hi-la-ted ; v. reduced to nothing. 9. CoR^-o-NAL ; n. a crown, a \wreath. 9. Glare ; n. a dazzling light. 10. Em-a-na^-tion ; n; that which proceeds from any source. 13. Arch; adj. chief, principal. 16. El^-e-men^s ; n. in popular language fire, air, earth, and water. GOffS FIRST TEMPLES. Pronounce correctly. Ere, pro. a-er. Do not say an-thums for an-thems ; of-fud for of-fe^^’d ; ann-cient for an-cient ; lid-ore for a-dore ; un-lg for on-ly. 1. The groves were God’s first temples* Ere man learrfed To ’new the shaft, and lay the architrave, ECLECTIC SERIES. 245 And spread the roof above them ; ere he framed The lofty vault, to gather and roll back The sound of ^anthems ; in the darkling wood. Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks And ^supplication. 2. For his simple heart Might not resist the sacred ^influences. That, from the stilly twilight of the place. And from the gray old trunks, that high in heaven Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound Of the ^invisible breath, that swayed at once All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed His spirit with the thought of boundless Power And '^inaccessible Majesty. 3 Ah, why Should we, in the world’s riper years, neglect God’s ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd, and under roofs That '’'our frail hands have raised ! Lot me, at least, Here, in the shadow of this aged wood. Offer one hymn ; thrice happy, if it find ■’'Acceptance in His ear. 4 Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable '’'columns. Thou Didst weave this ’’'verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun Eudded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze And shot toward heaven. 5 The century -living crow. Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died Among their branches ; till, at last, they stood. As now they stand, '’'massy, and tall, and dark, Fit shrine for humble worshiper to hold ■’’Communion with his Maker. 246 NEW FIFTH READER. 6. Here are seen No traces of man’s pomp, or pride ; no silks Hustle, no jewels shine, nor envious eyes ■^'Encounter ; no fantastic carvings show The boast of our vain race to change the form Of thy fair works. 7. But thou art here ; thou fill’st The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds. That run along the ^summits of these trees In music ; thou art in the cooler breath. That, from the inmost darkness of the place. Comes, scarcely felt ; the barky trunks, the ground, The fresh, moist ground, are all instinct with thee. Here is continual worship ; nature, here, In the ’^tranquillity that thou dost love, Enjoys thy presence. 8 Noiselessly, around. From perch to perch, the solitary bird Passes ; and yon clear spring, that, ’mid its herbs, Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale Of all the good it does. 9 Thou hast not left Thyself without a witness, in these shades. Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace, Are here to speak of thee. This mighty oak. By whose *^immovable stem I stand, and seem Almost annihilated, not a prince. In all the proud old world beyond the deep. E’er wore his crown as '^'loftily as he Wears the green coronal of leaves, with which Thy hand has graced him. Nestled at his root I^eauty, such as blooms not in the glare Of the broad sun. 10. That delicate forest flower. With scented breath, and look so like a smile, Seems, as it issues from the shapeless mold An emanation of the indwelling Life, ECLECTIC SERIES. 247 A visible token of the upholding Love, That are the soul of this wide '*'uni verse. 1 1 My heart is awed within me, when I think Of the great '^miracle that still goes on, In silence, round me ; the perpetual work Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed Forever. Written on thy works, I read The lesson of thy own ^eternity. 12. Lol all grow old and die: but sec, again, How on the faltering footsteps of decay Youth presses, ever gay and beautiful youth, In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees Wave not less proudly, that their '^ancestors Molder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost One of earth’s charms: upon her bosom yet. After the flight of untold centuries. The freshness of her far beginning lies. And yet shall lie. 13. Life mocks the idle hate Of his arch enemy. Death; yea, seats himself Upon the ^sepulcher, and blooms and smiles; And of the triumphs of his "^ghastly foe Makes his own '^nourishment. For he came forth From thine own bosom, and shall have no end. 14 There have been holy men, who hid themselves Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived The ■^■generation born with them, nor seemed Less aged than the hoary trees and rocks Around them; and tlmre have been holy men. Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus. But let me often to these '^'solitudes Eetire, and in thy presence, ■^reassure My feeble virtue. Here, its enemies. The passions, at thy plainer footsteps, shrink, And tremble, and are still. 248 15. NEW FIFTH READER. Oil God I wlien thou Dost scare the world with tempests, set on fire The heavens with falling ^thunderbolts, or fill With all the waters of the '^'firmament. The swift, dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods And drowns the villages; when, at thy call. Uprises the great deep, and throws himself Upon the '^continent, and '^'overwhelms Its cities ; who forgets not, at the sight Of these '^'tremendous tokens of thy power. His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by? 16. Oh, from these sterner "^aspects of thy face- Spare me and mine; nor let us need the wrath Of the mad, unchained elements, to teach Who rules them. Be it ours to '^'meditate. In these calm shades, thy milder majesty, And to the beautiful order of thy works. Learn to '^conform the order of our lives. Questions. — What are the most ancient temples of worship? Whai meditations become the forest scenes? How are the forests a witness for God ? What is thv^ poetic measure of this piece ? Parse “stole,” in the second paragraph. “Shrine,” in the fifth • paragraph. “Encounter,” in the sixth paragraph. “Oak,” in the ninth paragraph. Parse “be,” the first word of the last sentence in this lesson. Parse “majesty,” in the same sentence. Which are the adjectives in this sentence? EXERCISE XXXIII. Fragrance and aromatic odors every where. Frolic and gleesome- ness characterized the scene. We arranged the change. Chance and change await all. Thou troubPst thy father* s friends. The sculptor has executed three busts. The swift, dark ivhirlwind tbai uproots the woods. ECLECTIC SEKIES. 249 LESSON 2. Per-son^- 1 -fied ; v. represent- ed with attributes of a per- son. 2 Al'-le-gouized ; v, turned into an allegory, or a figurative description. 2.^ En-shri^ned ; v. preserved as sacred. 6. Spon-ta^-ne-ous-ly ; adv. of its own accord. 7. Prim^-i-ti VE ; a<^*. first, original. 9. The-o-crat^-ic-al ; adj. con- ducted by the immediate agency of God. | LXXIII. 9. Pu^-Ri-TAN j n. a name given to those who separated from the Church of England, in the days of Queen Elizabeth. They were so called because they professed to follow the pure word of God. 10. Pen^-ta-teuch ; n. (pro. Pen'- / ta-tuhe) the first five books of the Old Testament. IO^Im-bu^ed; V . tinged, dyed^ used figuratively. 13. Ar^'-ro-ga-ting ; v. claiming more respect than is just. CHARACTER OF THE PURITAN FATHERS OF NEW ENGLAND. Articulate clearly the li and the d : high, heart, happiness, heaven, hard, had, hearken, here, have, happy, whit, howling, hearth, whenever, hypocrites, seemM, talked, mind, calPd, prefer'd, England, land, launchM, soiPd, round, intend. 1. One of the most ^prominent features which dis- tinguished our forefathers, was their determined +resist- ance to '’‘oppression. They seemed horn and brought up, for the high and special purpose of showing to the world that the civil and religious rights of man, the rights of tself-government, of conscience, and inde- pendent thought, are not merely things to be talked of, and woven into theories, but to be adopted with the whole strength and ardor of the mind, and felt in the profoundest recesses of the heart, and carried out into the general life, and made the foundation of practical usefulness, and visible beauty, and true nobility. 2. Liberty xvith them, was an object of too serious desire and stern resolve, to be personified, allegorized, and enshrined. They made no goddess of it, as the ancients did ; they had no time nor inclination for such trifling; they felt that liberty was the simple bii*thright 250 NEW FIFTH READER. of every human creature ; they called it so; they claimed it as such; they '^'reverenced and held it fast as the ^unalienable gift of the Creator, which was not to be ■^surrendered to power, nor sold for wages. 3. It was theirs, as men; without it, they did not esteem themselves men ; more than any other '^'privilege or possession, it was "^essential to their happiness, for it was essential to their '^'original nature; and therefore they preferred it above wealth, and ease, and country; and that they might enjoy and exercise it fully, they forsook houses, and lands, and kindred, their homes, their native soil, and their fathers’ graves. 4. They left all these; they left England, which, whatever it might have been called, was not to them a land of freedom; they launched forth on the pathless ocean, the wide, '^fathomless ocean, soiled not by the earth beneath, and bounded, all round and above, only by heaven ; and it seemed to them like that better and ■^'sublimer freedom, which their country knew not, but of which they had the conception and image in their hearts ; and, after a ‘^'toilsome and painful voyage, they came to a hard and wintry coast, unfruitful and '^'deso- late, but unguarded and boundless ; its calm silence in- terrupted not the ascent of their prayers; it had no eyes to watch, no ears to hearken, no tongues to report of them; here, again, there was an answer to their soul’s desire, and they were satisfied, and gave thanks; they saw that they were free, and the desert smiled. 5. I am telling an old tale ; but it is one which must be told when we speak of those men. It is to be added, that they transmitted their principles to their children, and that peopled by such a race, our country was always free.. So long as its '^'inhabitants were "^unmolested by the mother country, in the exercise of their important rights, they submitted to the form of English govern - ment; but when those rights were '^'invaded, they spurned even the form away. 6. This act was the Eevolution, which came of course, and spontaneously, and had nothing in it of the won- ECLECTIC SERIES. 251 derliil or unforeseen. The wonder would liave been, if it had not occurred. It was, indeed, a hapj)y and glori- ous event, but by no means unnatural ; and I intend no slight to the revered actors in the Eevolution, when I assort that their fathers before them were as free as they — every whit as free. 7. The principles of the Eevolution were not the sud- denly acquired property of a few bosoms : they were abroad in the land in the ages before ; they had always been taught, like the truths of the Bible ; they had de- scended from father to son, down from those primitive days, when the tpilgrim established in his simple dwell- ing, and seated at his blazing fire, piled high from the forest which shaded his door, repeated to his listening children the story of his wrongs and his resistance, and bade them rejoice, though the wild winds and the wild beasts were howling without, that they had nothing to fear from great men’s ‘‘‘oppression. 8. Here are the beginnings of the Eevolution. Every settler’s hearth was a school of '‘‘independence ; the schol- ars were apt, and the lessons sunk deeply ; and thus it came that our country was always free ; it could not be other than free. 9. As deeply seated as was the principle of liberty and resistance to arbitrary power, in the breasts of the Puritans, it was not more so than their piety and sense of religious obligation. They were emphatically a peo- ple whose God was the Lord. Their form of government was as strictly theocratical, if direct communication be excepted, as was that of the Jews; insomuch that it would be difficult to say, where there was any civil authority among them entirely distinct from ‘‘‘ecclesias- tical ■‘jurisdiction. 10. Whenever a few of them settled a town, they immediately gathered themselves into a church ; and their elders were ‘‘‘magistrates, and their code of laws was the Pentateuch. These were forms, it is true, but forms which faithfully '‘‘indicated principles and feelings; for no people could have adopted such forms, who were 252 NEW FIFTH HEADER. not thoroughly imbued with the spirit, and bent on th« practice, of religion. 11. God was their King; and they regarded him as truly and literally so, as if he had dwelt in a visible pal- ace in the midst of their state. They were his devoted, '‘‘resolute, humble subjects; they undertook nothing which they did not beg of him to prosper; they ‘‘'accom- plished nothing without rendering to him the praise; they suffered nothing without carrying their sorrows to his throne; they ate nothing which they did not t implore him to bless. 12. Their piety was not merely external ; it was sin- cere ; it had the proof of a good tree in bearing good fruit ; it produced and sustained a strict morality. Their ‘‘‘tenacious purity of manners and speech obtained for them, in the mother country, their name of Puritans, which, though given in derision, was as honorable an appellation as was ever bestowed by man on man. 13. That there were hypocrites among them, is not to be doubted ; but they were rare ; the men who volunta- rily exiled themselves to an unknown coast, and endured there every toil and hardship for conscience’ sake, and that they might serve God in their own manner, were not likely to set conscience at tdefiance, and make the service of God a mockery ; they were not likely to be, neither were they, ‘‘‘hypocrites. I do not know that it would be arrogating too much for them to say, that, on the extended surface of the globe, there was not a single community of nien to be compared with them, in the re- spects of deep religious ‘‘‘impressions and an exact ‘‘‘per- formance of moral duty. Questions. — How did Puritans regard liberty ? What was their conduct in support of liberty ? Why was the revolution a perfectly natural event, or just what might have been expected ? From whence were derived the principles of the revolution ? How were their sys- tems of government formed ? What was the character of their piety? As a community, how will they bear comparison, for moral worth, with all other communities past or present ? Which are the pronouns in the twelfth paragraph ? ECLECTIC SERIES. 253 LESSON LXXIV.^/ y Theme; n. a subject on which a person writes or speaks. 2. Gib'-bet-ed; v. hanged and exposed on a* gibbet. 2: Sev^-ered; v. disunited, se- parated. RtIs'-to-crat ; n. one who is ’ in favor of a government placed in the hands of a few 4. i^en. 3. CoN-FED^-ER-A-CY ; 71. a union / of states- Or persons. 3. Mon^-arcii-ist ; n. one who is in favor of a kingly govei u ment. ^fr^PAR^-Ri-ciDE ; n. the destruc- tion of one’s parent or coun- try. 5.''^N-nis^-so-Lu-BLE ; adj. that can ^ not be broken or separated. 5."4)em^-a-gogue; n. a leader of the lower class of people. 7. Tac^-tics; n. the science of ' managing military forces. DUTY OF AN AMERICAN ORATOR. Remarki — A void the habit of commencing a sentence in a high key and ending it in a feeble tone of voice. Pronounce correctly. Do not say sac-rid-niss for sa-crid-ness ; im-pori-unce for im-port-ance ; or-it-iir for or-a-tor ; il-lus-tr' oiis for il-lus-tri-ous ; lios-tile for hos-tile, (pro. lios~til) ; Eu~ro^-pe~an for Eu-ro-pe^-an. 1. One theme of duty still remains, and I have placed it alone, because of its peculiar dignity, sacred- ness, and importance. Need I tell you that I speak of the union of these States? Let the American orator dis- charge all other duties but this, if indeed it be not impossible, with the energy and eloquence of John Eut- ledge, and the disinterested '^fidmity of Eobert Morris, yet shall he be counted a traitor, if he attempt to dis- solve the Union. V 2. His name, '''illustrious as it may have been, shall then be gibbeted on every hilltop throughout the land, a monument of his crime and punishment, and of the shame and grief of his country. If indeed he believe, (and doubtless there maybe such) that wisdom demands the dissolution of the Union, that the South should bo severed from the North, the West be independent of the East, lot him cherish the sentiment, for his own sake, in 254 NEW FIFTH READER. the solitude of his breast, or breathe it only in the con fidence of friendship. 3. Let him rest assured, that as his country tolerates the monarchist and aristocrat of the old world, she tolerates him; but should he plot the dismemberment of the Union, the same trial, judgment, and execution await him as would await them, should they attempt to establish the aristocracy of Yenice or the monarchy of Austria, on the ruins of our confederacy. To him ' as to them, she leaves freedom of speech, and the very ^'^'licentiousness of the press; and permits them to write, even in the spirit of scorn, and hatred, and unfair- ness. Li 4. She trembles not at such efforts, ‘^'reckless and hostile as they may be. She smiles at their impotence, while she mourns over their infatuation. But let them lift the hand of parricide, in the insolence of pride or the madness of power, to strike their country, and her countenance, in all the severity and terrors of a parent’s wrath, shall smite them with '^amazeihent and horror. Let them strike, and ,the voices of millions of freemen from the city and '^ha^let, from the college and the farm- house, from the cabins amid the western wilds, and on ships scattered around the world, shall utter the stern irrevocable judgment, self-banishment for life, or igno- minious death. 5. Be it then the noblest office of American eloquence, to cultivate, in the people of every State, a deep and fervent attachment to the Union. The Union is to us the marriage bond of States; indissoluble in life, to be dis- solved, we trust, only on that day wdien nations shall die in a moment, never to rise again. Let the American orator discountenance, then, all the arts of intrigue and corruption, which not only pollute the people and dis- honor republican institutions, but prepare the way for the ruin of both; how secretly, how surely, let history declare. ^ Let him banish from his thoughts, and his lips, the '^hyp'ocrisy of the demagogue equally '’'deceitful and degraded, ECLECTIC SERIES 255 With smootli dissimulatioDj skilled to grace A deviks purpose, with an angel’s fiice.” 6. Let that demagogue and those arts, his instru- ments of power,. be regarded as jDretended friends, but secret and dangerous enemies of the people. Let it never be forgotten that to him and them we owe all the licentiousness and violence, all the unprincipled and unfeeling persecution of party spirit. Let the American orator labor, then, with all the solemnity of a religious duty, with all the intensity of filial love, to convince his countrymen that the danger to liberty in this country is to be traced to those sources. Let the European trem- ble for his institutions, in th/e presence of military power and of the warrior’s ambition. 7. Let the American dread, as the '‘*ar(3h-enemy of republican institutions, the shock of exasperated parties, and the implacable revenge of demagogues. The dis- cipline of standing armies, is the terror of freedom in Europe ; but the tactics of parties, the standing armies of America, are still more formidable to liberty with us.' 8. Let the American orator frown, then, on that am- bition, which, pursuing its own *»*aggr^4idizement and gratification, perils the harmony and integidty of the Union, and counts the grief, anxiety, and ^expostulations of millions, as the small dust of the balance. Let him remember, that ambition, like the Amruta cup of Indian fable, gives to the virtuous an immortality of glory and happiness, but to the corrupt an immortality of ruin, shame, and misery. 9. Let not the American orator, in the great ques- tions on which Jie is to speak or write, appeal to the mean and '^'grdv^ing qualities of human nature. Let him love the people, and. respect himself too much to dishonor them, and '^'degrade himself, by an api^eal to selfishness and prejudice, to jealousy, fear, and contempt. The greater the interests, and the more sacred the rights which may be at stake, the more resolutely should ho appeal to the generous feelings, the noble sentiments, the calm -^-con si derate wisdom, which become a fico. 256 NEW FIFTH READER. educated, peaceful, Christian people. Even if ho battle against criminal ambition and bas^e intrigue, let his weapons be a logic,^ipLanly, '’‘'intfepid, honorable, and an eloquence *^mag]4animous, '♦'disinterested, and spotless. 10. ]5ror is this all. Let the American orator '♦'compre- hend, and live up to the grand '♦'coife^ption, that the Union is the property of the world, no less than of our- selves; that it is a part of the divine scheme for the moral government of the earth, as the ‘♦'^olar system is a part of the '♦'m^ctianism of the heavens ; that it is des- tined, while traveling from the Atlantic to the Pacific, like the ascending sun, to shed its glorious influence backward on the states of Europe, and forward on the empires of Asia. 11 . Let him comprehend its sublime relations to time and eternity ; to God and man ; to the most precious hopes, the most solemn obligations, and the highest hap- piness of human kind ? And what an eloquence must that be whose source of power aqd wisdom are God himself, the objects of whose '♦'influence are all the nations of the earth; whose sphere of duty is '♦'cd-eitcn- sive with all that is sublime in religion, beautiful ig morals, commanding in intellect, and touching in '♦'hu- ‘ manity. How '♦'comprehensive, and therefore how wise and '♦'bene'volent, must then be the genius of American eloquence, compared to the narrow-minded, narrow- hearted, and therefore selfish, '♦'eloquence of Greece and Eome. 12. How striking is the '♦'contrast, between the uni- versal, social spirit of the former, and the individual, exclusive character of the latter. The '♦'boundary of this is the horizon of a plain; the circle of that, the '♦'horizon of a mountain '♦'surnmit. Be it then the duty of American eloquence to speak, to write, to act, in the cause of Christianity, '♦'patriotism, and '♦'literature; in the cause of justice, humanity, virtue, and truth ; in the cause of the people, of the Union, of the whole human race, and of the unborn of eve'^y clime and age. Then ECLECTIC SERIES. 2 ? shall American eloquence, the personification of truth, beauty, and love, “ walk the earth, that she may hear her name Still hymned and honored by the grateful voice Of human kind, and in her fame rejoice.^^ Questions. — Wliat is the duty of the American orator, as discussed in this lesson? What is the noblest office of American eloquence? LESSON LXXV./ , . CoME^-Li-NESs; n. that which is becoming or graceful. [walk. Port; n. manner of movement or At-tire^; n. dress, clothes. Rife; adj. prevalent. Tar^-nish; V. to soil, to sully. Fledgs^-ling; n, a young bird. Rec-og-ni^-tion; ?2. acknowledg- ment of acquaintance. Pre-con-cert^-ed ; v. planned be- forehand. Cai'-tiff; n. a mean villain. Av-a-lanche^; n. a vast body of '^ hrall^-dom; w. bondage, slavery, snow sliding down from a moun- ^can ; v. to examine closely, tain. Neth'-er; ad.j, lower, lying be- VoucH-sAFE^; V. to yield, to conde- neath. scend, to give. ^ ^Blanch; v, to turn white. Net^'-ted; V. caught in a net. Gust; n, taste, relish. WILLIAM TELL. The events here referred to occurred in 1307. Switzerland had been conquered by Austria; and Geslcr, one of the basest and most tyrannical of men, was her governor. As a refinement of tyranny, he had his cap elevated on a pole, and commanded that every one should bow before it. William Tell proudly refused to submit to this degrading mark of slavery. He was arrested and carried before the governor. The day before, his son Albert, without the knowledge of his father, had fallen into the hands of Gesler. Give each letter its full and correct sound. Do not say gov^nor for gov-em-or; come-li-^iiss for come-li-ness ; e-rec for e-rec;{; hon-^'er-hle for hon-or-a-ble ; hards for haneZs ; venge-unce for venge-ance. Scene 1. — A Chamber in the Castle, Enter Gesler^ Officers^ and Sarnem^ with Tell in chains and guarded, I Sar. Down, slave ! Behold the governor. Down! down! and beg for mercy. NEW FIFTH READER. ^ Ges, {Seated.) Does lie hear? J Sar. He does, but braves thy power. C Officer. Why don’t you smite him for that look? S Ges. Can I believe My eyes? He smiles! Hay, grasps His chains as he would make a weapon of them To lay the smiter dead. {To Tell.) Why speakest thou not? ^ Tell. For wonder. {'Ges. Wonder? Tell. Yes, that thou shouldst seem a man. Ges. What should I seem? Tell. A monster. Ges. Ha 1 Beware I Think on thy chains. Tell. Though they were doubled, and did weigJi me down '^'Prostrate to the earth, methinks I could rise up Erect, with nothing but the honest pride Of telling thee, '^‘usurper, to thy teeth. Thou art a monster! Think upon my chains? How came they on me? Ges. Barest thou question me? Tell. Barest thou not answer? Ges. Do I hear? ^ Tell. Thou dost. Ges. Beware my tyengeance. Tell. Can it more than kill ? Ges. Enough; it can do that. Tell. Ho; not enough: It can not take away the grace of life ; Its comeliness of look that virtue gives ; Its port '*'erect with '^'consciousness of truth ; Its rich attire of honorable deeds ; Its fair report that’s rife on good men’s tongues: It can not lay its hands on these, no more Than it can pluck the brightness from the sun, Or with '^'polluted finger tarnish it. i# Ges. But it can make thee '’'writhe. Tell. It may. ECLECTIC SERIES. 259 Ges. And groan. • iTell, It niay * and I may cry Go on, though it should make me groan again. 23 Ges. Whence comest thou? ^Tell. From the mountains. Wouldst thou learn What news from them? i^Ges. Canst tell me any? Z^ Tell. Ay: they watch no more the avalanche. Ges. Why so? ^Tell. Because they look for thee. The *^hurricane Comes Unawares upon them; from its bed The torrent breaks, and finds them in its track. 3 I Ges. What do they then ? Tell. Thank heaven, it is not thou ! Thou hast '^'perverted nature in them. There 's not a blessing heaven vouchsafes them, but The thought of thee — doth “^wither to a curse. Ges. That ’s right I I ’d have them like their hills, That never smile, though '^'wanton summer tempt Them e’er so much. ^LjTell. But they do sometimes smile. Q^Ges. Ay! when is that? Tell. When they do talk of vengeance. Q y Ges. Vengeance? Dare they talk of that? A r Tell. Ay, and expect it too. Ges. From whence? l 0 Tell. From heaven! 'Ges. From heaven ? ^2jTell. And their true hands Are lifted up to it on every hi\l For justice on thee. Ges. Where ’s thy abode? V/ Tell. I told thee on the mountains. ^y Ges. Art married? ^ ^ Tell. Yes. Ges. And hast a family? Tell A son. ^ Ges. A son? Sarnem^ 260 NEW FIFTH READER. ^^'Sar. My lord, the boy — {Gesler signs to Sarnem to keep silence^ and^ whispering^ sends him off,') ^ TelL The boy? What boy? Is ’t mine? and have they netted my young fledge- ling? Now heaven support me, if they have! He ’ll own me. And share his father’s ruin ! But a look AVould put him on his guard; yet how to give it! Now, heart, thy nerve ; forget thou art flesh, be rock. They come, they come I That step — that step — that little step, so light. Upon the ground, how heavy does it fall Upon my heart! I feel my child! (Enter Sarnem with Albert^ whose eyes are riveted on TelVs bow which Sarnem carries), ’T is he ! We can but perish. Sar. See! Alb. What? Sar. Look there ! Alb. I do, what would you have me see? Sar, Thy father. Alb, Who? That — that my father ? Tell. My boy ! my boy ! my own brave boy I He ’s safe! (Aside), Sar. (Aside to Gesler), They ’re like each othe5 Ges. Yet I see no sign Or recognition to betray the link Unites a father and his child. I Sar, My lord, I am sure it is his father. Look at them. It may be A preconcerted thing ’gainst such a chance, That they '^'survey each other coldly thus. Ges. We shall try. Lead forth the caitiff. Sar. To a dungeon? Ges. No; into the court. Sar. The court, my lord? Ges. And send ECLECTIC SERIES. 261 To tell the headsman to make ready. Quick I The slave shall die! You marked the boy? C 7^^'- I He started; ’tis his father. ^ : Ges, We shall see. Away with him! - Tell Stop ! Stop ! - ■ Ges, What would you? t Tell. Time ! A little time to call my thoughts together. ^ Ges. Thou shalt not have a minute. Tell. Some one, then, to speak with. Ges. Hence with him! ■' -'■Tell. A moment ! Stop ! Let me speak to the boy. Ges. Is he thy son? Tell. And if He were, art thou so lost to nature, as To send me forth to die before his face? Ges. Well! speak with him. How, Sarnem, mark them well. ;^,JFell. Thou dost not know me, boy; and well for thee / Thou dost not. I ’m the father of a son About thy age. Thou, I see, wast born like him, upon the hills; If thou shouldst ^scape thy present thralldom, he May chance to cross thee; if he should, I pray thee Eelate to him what has been passing here. And say I laid my hand upon thy head. And said to thee, if he were here, as thou art, Thus would I bless him. Mayst thou live, my boy I To see thy country free, or die for her, As I do ! (Albert weeps.') Mark! he weef)S. Tell, Were he my son, ^ He would not shed a tear ! He would remember The cliff where he was bred, an4 learned to scan A thousand fathoms’ depth of nether air ; Where he was ‘‘'trained to hear the thunder talk, And meet the lightning, eye to eye ; where last We >^poke together, when I told him death 262 NEW FIFTH READER. ■•'Bestowed the brightest gem that graces life, ■•■Embraced for virtue’s sake. He shed a tear ? Now were he by, I ’d talk to him, and his cheek Should never blanch, nor moisture dim his eye— I ’d talk to him — ■ Sar. He falters ! TelL ’T is too much I And yet it must be done I I ’d talk to him Ges, Of what ? Tell. The mother, tyrant, thou dost make A widow of ! I’d talk to him of her. I ’d bid him tell her, next to liberty. Her name was the last word my lips pronounced. And I would charge him never to forget To love and ■•■cherish her, as he would have His father’s dying blessing rest upon him ! Sar. You see, as he doth ■•'prompt, the other acts. Tell. So well he bears it, he doth '•'vanquish me. My boy ! my boy ! Oh for the hills, the hills, To see him bound along their tops again. With liberty. Sar. Was there not all the father in that look ? Ges. Yet ’t is ’gainst nature. Sar. Not if he believes To own the son would be to make him shai*e The father’s death. / Ges. I did not think of that I ’T is well The boy is not thy son. I ’ve ’•'destined him To die along with thee. Tell. To die ? For what ? Ges. For having braved my power, as thou hast. Lead them forth. Tell. He’s but a child. Ges. Away with them I Tell. Perhaps an only child. Ges. No matter. Tell. Ho may have a mother. ECLECTIC SERIES. 263 ^:^ Ges. So the viper hath ; And yet, who spares it for the mother’s sake ? / I talk to stone I I talk to it as though were flesh ; and know ’t is none. I ’ll talk to it K^o more. Come, my boy, I taught thee how to live, I ’ll show thee how to die. iGes. He is thy child ? / Tell, He is my child. f f Ges, I ’ve wrung a tear from him ! Thy name ! - Tell, Hy name ? It matters not to keep it from thee now ; My name is Tell. - ^es. Tell? William Tell? i Tell, The same. Ges, What I he, so famed ’hove all his countrymen. For guiding o’er the stormy lake the boat? And such a master of his bow, ’t is said His arrows never miss ! Indeed ! I ’ll take ^Exquisite vengeance ! Mark ! I ’ll spare thy life ; Thy boy’s too ; both of you are free ; on one Condition. Tell, Name it. Ges, I would see you make A trial of your skill with that same bow You shoot so well with. I jo Tell. Hame the trial you Would have me make. n ! Ges, You look upon your boy As though ^instinctively you guessed it. / Look upon my boy? What mean you? Look upon My boy as though I guessed it? Guessed the trial You’d have me make ? Guessed it Instinctively? You do not mean — no — no, You would not have me make a trial of My skill upon my child 1 Impossible I I do not guess your meaning. NEW FIFTH READER. 264 I would see Thee hit an apple at the distance of A hundred paces. Is my boy to hold it? No. No ? I’ll send the arrow through the '♦'core I It is to rest upon his head. Great heaven, you hear him I Thou dost hear the choice I give : Such trial of the skill thou art master of, Or death to both of you ; not otherwise To be escaped. Oh, monster ! Wilt thou do it ? He will ! he will I *^Ferocious monster I Make A father murder his own child 1 Ges. Take off his chains if he consent. Tell, With his own hand ? Ges, Hoes he consent ? Alb, He does. (Gesler signs to Ms officers^ who proceed to take off Tells chains; Tell unconscious what they Tell, With his own hand ? [do. Murder his child with his own hand? This hand ? The hand I ’ve led him, when an infant, by ? ’ Tis beyond horror ! ’ T is most horrible I Amazement ! (Sis chains fall off,') What’s that you ’ve done to me ? Villians ! put on my chains again. My hands Are free from blood, and have no gust for it. That they should drink my child’s ! Here ! here ! I’ll not Murder my boy for Gesler. Alb, Father ! Father ! You will npt hit me, father! Tell, Hit thee? Send The arrow through thy brain ? Or, missing that, t Tell. U'TGes. ■J Tell. (hGes. Tell. I IC^ Ges. Tell. Ges. Alb. Tell. ECLECTIC SERIES. 265 Shoot out an eye ? Or, if tliino cyo escape, ■♦■Mangle the cheek I’ve seen thy mother’s lips ^ Cover with kisses? Hit thee? Hit a hair Of thee, and ■♦'eleavo thy mother’s heart ? Ges. Dost thou consent? Tell. Give me my bow and quiver. Ges. For what ? Tell. To shoot my boy ! Alh. Ho, father, no ! To save me ! You ’ll be sure to hit the apple. Will you not save me, father ? Tell. Lead me forth ; I ’ll make the trial ! Alh. Thank you ! Tell. Thank me ? Do You know for what? I will not make the trial.. To take him to his mother in my arms ! And lay him down a '♦'corse before her ! Ges. Then he dies this moment, and you certainly Do murder him whose life you have a ehance To save, and will not use it. Tell. Well, I’ll do it ; I ’ll make the trial. Alh. Father I Tell. Speak not to me: Let me not hear thy voice : thou must bo dumb ; And so should all things be. Earth should be dumb, And heaven — unless its thunders muttered at The deed, and sent a bolt to stop it I Give me My bow and quiver ! Ges. When all ’s ready. Tell. Well, lead on ! Questions. — Why does Gesler express joy that his subjects are unhappy? Why does Albert appear not to recognize his father? Why loes Tell at last acknowledge Albert? Parse the first two words in this lesson. Parse “to shoot ” on the /ast page. “To save’’ on the same. “To take” and “lay.” 5th R.-^23 2G6 new fifth headek. LESSON LXXVl/^^ Is^-SUE 5 71 . event, consec[uence. Stanch; adj. sound, strong. Jao''-ged; V. notched, uneven. Shaft ; n. the stem, the body. ^-Quiv^-er; n. a case for arrows. ^,Per^-il; n, danger. WILLIAM TELL.— Continued. Remark—Do not slide over the little ^rords, nor omit any syllable of a word. Sound each letter distinctly and Correctly. Do not say loolc-nz for look-ers ; smirl'n-hj for smi-Ziny-ly ; rev-runce for rev-er-ence ; stidry for stead-y. Scene 2. — Eriter slowly, people in evident distress Officers, Sarnem, Gesler, Tell, Albert, and soldiers— one bearing TelVs bow and quiver — another with a basket of apples. Ges. That is. your ground. Now shall they measure thence A hundred paces. Take the distance. Tell. Is the line a true one? Ges. True or not, what is ’t to thee ? Tell. What is ’t to me ? A little thing, A very little thing ; a yard or two Is nothing here or there — were it a wolf I shot at ! Never mind. Ges. Be thankful, slave. Our grace '^'accords thee life on any teims. Tell. I will be thankful, Gesler ! +Villain, stop 1 You measure to the sun. Ges. And what of that ? What matter whether to or from the sun? Tell. I ’d have it at my back. The sun should shine Upon the mark, and not on him that shoots. I can not see to shoot against the sun . I will not shoot against the sun ! Oes. Give him his way I Tliou hast cause to bless my mercy. ECLECTIC SERIES. 267 TelL 1 shall remember it. I ’d like to see The apple I ’m to shoot at. Ges. Stay! show me the basket I there! Tell. Yon Ve picked the smallest one. Ges. I know I have. Tell, Oh, do you ? But you see The color of ’t is dark : I ’d have it light, To see it better. Ges. Take it as it is; Thy skill will be the gTeater if thou hitt’st it. Tell. True ! true! I did not think of that; I wonder I did not think of that. Give me some chance To save my boy! {Throws away the apple with all I will not murder him, [his force.') If I can helpdt; for the honor of The form thou wearest, if all the heart is gone. Ges. "Well : choose thyself. Tell, Have I a friend among the lookers on ? Verner. (Bushing forward.) Here, Tell. Tell. I thank thee, Yerner ! He is a frietid runs out into a storm To shake a hand with us. I must be ‘’'brief. When once the bow is bent, wo can not take The shot too soon. Yernei*, whatever be The issue of this hour, the common cause Must not stand still. Let not to-morrow’s sun Set on the '’'tyrant’s banner ! Verner ! Yerner ! The boy ! the boy ! Thinl^est thou he hath the tcourage To stand it ? Ver. Yes. Tell. Does he tremble ? Ver. Ho. Tell. Art sure ? Ver. I am. Tell. How looks he ? Ver. Clear and smilingly. If you doubt it, look yourself. 268 NEW FIFTH READER. Tell. No, no, my friend : To hear it is enough. Ver. He hears himself so much above his years — Tell. I know ! I know ! Ver. With ^constancy so modest — Tell. I was sure he would — Ver. And looks with such relying love And "^reverence upon you — Tell Man ! Man I Man I No more ! Already" I ’m too much the father To act the man ! Yerner, no more, my friend ! I would be flint — flint — flint. Don’t make me feel I’m not — do not mind me ! Take the boy And set him, Yerner, with his back to me. Set him upon his knees, and place this apple Upon his head, so that the stem may front me. Thus, Yerner; charge him to keep steady; tell him I ’ll hit the apple! Yerner, do all this More '‘'briefly than I tell it thee. Ver. Come, Albert! (Leading him out.) Alb. May I not speak with him before I go? Ver. No. Alb. I would only kiss his hand. Ver. You must not. Alb. I must; I can not go from him without. Ver. It is his will you should. Alb. His will, is it? 1 am content, then ; come. Tell. My boy ! (Holding out his arms to him.) ilb. My father! (Rushing into TelVsarms.) Tell. If thou canst bear it, should not I? Go now, My son ; and keep in mind that I can shoot ; Go boy; be thou but steady, I will hit The apple. Go ! God bless thee; go. My bow! ( The bow is handed to him.) Thou wilt not fail thy master, wilt thou? Thou Hast never failed him yet, old servant. No, ECLECTIC SERIES. 269 I ’m sure of thee. I know thy honesty, Thou art stanch, stanch. X;et me see my (j^uiver. Ges. Give him a single arrow. Tell. Do you shoot? Soldier. I do. Tell. Is it so you pick an arrow, friend? The point, you see, is bent ] the feather, jagged. That 8 all the use t is fit for. (^JBreaks Ges. Let him have another. Tell. Why, ’tis better than the first. But yet not good enough for such an aim As I ’m to take. ’T is heavy in the shaft ; 1 not shoot with it ! (^Throws it away.) Let me see my quiver. Bring it ! ’T is not one arrow in a dozen I’d take to shoot with at a dove, much less A dove like that. Ges. It matters not. Show him the quiver. Tell See if the boy is ready. {Tell here hides an arrov) under his vest.) Ver. He is. Tell I ’m ready too ! Keep silent, for Heaven s sake, and do not stir j and let me have Your prayers, your prayers, and be my ^witnesses That if his life’s in peril from my hand, • T is only for the chance of r saving it. l< ^ 3. The armaments which thunder strike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations '^'quake, And monarchs tremble in their "^capitals ; The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy ‘^'flake. They melt into the yest of waves, which mar Alike the Armada’s pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 4. Thy shores are ‘^'empires, changed in all save thee ; Assyria, Greece, Koine, Carthage — what are they ? Thy waters wasted them while they were free. And many a Hyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up ^realms to deserts ; not so thou, '^‘Unchangeable save to thy wild waves’ play; Time writes no wrinkles on thy azure brow ; Such as creation’s dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 5. Thou glorious '•‘mirror, where the Almighty’s form Glasses itself in tenijoests ; in all time, 300 NEW FIFTH READER. Calm or '^convulsed; in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime, Dark heaving; boundless, endless, and '**sublime, The image of Eternity, the throne Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime diie ■^'monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, '‘'fathomless, alone. Questions. — What is meant by “oak leviathans?” How is the ocean the image of eternity ? Where is Trafalgar, and for what is it celebrated? Where was Assyria ? Rome? Greece? Carthage? LESSON LXXXVII. / 8. Rat-an^; n. a small cane which grows in India. 8. Par^-ley; n. conversation or conference with an enemy. 11. Im-pre-ca^-tions ; n. curses, praySrs for evil. 12. In-dom^-i-ta-ble; adj. that can not be subdued or tamed. 16. Quell ; v, to subdue, to crush. 17. Blenched; v. gave way, shrunk. 19. Car^-nage; n. slaughter. 19. Re-prieve^; n. a delay of punishment. [place. 20. Ex^'-it; n, passage out of a REBELLION IN MASSACHUSETTS STATE PRISON. 1. A MORE ‘‘'impressive ‘‘'exhibition of moral courage, opposed to the wildest ‘‘'ferocity, under the most ‘‘'appall- ing circumstances, was never seen, than that which was witnessed, by the officers of our State Prison, in the rebellion which occurred about five years since. 2. Three convicts had been sentenced under the rules of the prison to be whipped in the yard, and by some effort of one of the other prisoners, a door had been 2. UON'-viCTS; n. persons lound guilty of crime. 2. War^-den; n. a keeper, one who guards. 4. Brig^-ands; n, robbe^, those who live by plunder. 5. Mot^-ley; adj. composed of various colors. 5. De-mo^-ni-ac ; adj. devil-like. 6. Sub-or^-di-nate; adj. inferior. 6. Per^-il; n. danger. 7. Ma>rines^; n. (pro. ma-reens^) soldiers that serve on board of ships. 7. De-mean^-or; n, behavior, de- portment. ECLECTIC SERIES. 301 opened at midday +commimicating with the great dining hall, and through the warden’s lodge with the street. 3. The dining hall is long, dark, and damp, from its situation near the surface of the ground; and in this all the prisoners assembled, with clubs„ and such tools as they could seize in passing through the work shops. 4. Knives, hammers, and chisels, with every variety of such weapons, were in the hands of the ferocious spirits, who are drawn away from their ‘‘'encroachments on society, forming a '‘‘congregation of strength, vileness, and talent, that can hardly be equaled on earth, even among the famed brigands of Italy. 5. Men of all ages and characters, guilty of every variety of ‘‘‘infamous crime, dressed in the motley and peculiar garb of the institution, and displaying the wild and demoniac appearance that always pertains to im- prisoned wretches, were gathered together for the single purpose of preventing the punishment which was to be inflicted on the morrow, upon their ‘‘‘comrades. 6. The warden, the surgeon, anc! some other officers of the prison, were there at the time, and were alarmed at the consequences likely to ensue from the ‘‘‘conflict necessary to restore order. They huddled together, and could scarcely be said to consult, as the stoutest among them lost all presence of mind in overwhelming fear. The news rapidly spread through ttie town, and a sub- ordinate officer, of most mild and kind ‘‘‘disposition, hur- ried to the scene, and came calm and collected into the midst of the officers. The most ‘‘‘equable-tempered and the mildest man in the government, was in this hour of peril the firmest. 7. He instantly dispatched a request to Major Wair.- right, commander of the marines ‘‘‘stationed at the navy yard, for assistance, and declared his purpose to enter into the hall and try the force of firm demeanor and ‘‘■persuasion upon the enraged multitude. 8. All his brethren exclaimed against an attempt so full of hazard ; but in vain. They offered him arms, a sword and pistols, but he refused them, and#said, that ho 302 NEW FIFTH READER had no fear, and in case of danger, arms would do him no service : and alone, with only a little ratan, which was his usual walking stick, he advanced into the hall, to hold parley with the selected, '’'congregated, and en- raged villains of the whole '’’commonwealth. 9. He demanded their purpose, in thus coming to- gether with arms, in violation of the prison laws. They replied, ,that they were determined to obtain the remission of the punishment of their three comrades. He said, it was impossible ; the rules of the prison must be obeyed, and they must submit. 10. At the hint of submission, they drew a little nearer together, prepared dieir weapons for service, and as they were dimly seen in the further end of the hall, by those who observed, from the gratings that opened up to the day, a more appalling sight can not be con- ceived, nor one of more moral '’'grandeur, than that of the single man, standing within their grasp, and exposed to be torn limb from limb instantly, if a word or look should add to the already '’'intense excitement. 11. That excitement, too, was of a most dangerous kind. It broke not forth in noise and imprecations, but was seen only in the dark looks and the strained nerves, that showed a deep determination. The officer ’'expostu- lated. He reminded them of the '’'hopelessness of escape ; that the town was alarmed, and that the government of the prison would submit to nothing but unconditional surrender. He said, that all those who would go quietly away, should be forgiven for this offense ; but, that if every prisoner was killed in the contest, power enough would be obtained to enforce the regulations of the jndson. 12. They replied, that they expected that some would be killed, that death would be better than such impris- onment, and with that look and tone, which bespeaks an indomitable purpose, they declared, that not a man should leave the hall alive, till the flogging was remitted. At this period of the '’'discussion, their evil passions seemed to be more inflamed, and one or two offered to KC LECTIO SEUl E S. 303 destroy the officer, who still stood firmer, and with a more temperate pulse, than did his friends, who saw from above, but could not '•'avert the danger that threat- ened him. 13. Just at this moment, and in about fifteen minutes from the '•'commencement of the tumult, the officer saw the feet of the marines, whose presence alone he relied on for '•'succor, filing by the small upper lights. Without any apparent anxiety, he had repeatedly turned his at- tention to their apj)roach, and now he knew that it was his only time to escape, before a '•'conflict for life became, as was expected, one of the most dark and dreadful in the world. 14. He stepped slowly backward, still urging them to depart, before the officers were driven to use the last re- sort of firearms. AYhen within three or four feet of the door, it Avas opened, and closed instantly again, as he sprang through, and Avas thus unexpectedly restored to his friends. 15. Major Wainright Avas requested to order his men to fire doAvn upon the convicts through the little windoAVS, first with powder and then AAnth ball, till they Avere Avilling to retreat ; but he took a Aviser as Avell as a bolder course, relying upon the effect Avhicli firm deter- mination would haA^e upon men so '•'critically situated. He ordered the door to be again opened, and marched in at, the head of tAventy or thirty men, Avho filed through the passage, and formed at the end of the hall, opposite to the croAvd of criminals '•'huddled together at the other. 16. He stated that he Avas empowered to quell the re- bellion, that he wished to UA^oid shedding blood, but that he should not quit that haU aliA^e, till eA^ery convict had returned to his duty. They seemed '•'balancing the strength of the tAvo parties ; and replied, that some of them were ready to die, and only AAUiited for an attack to see Avhich Avas the most poAverful, SAvearing that they would fight to the last, unless the punishment Avas remit- ted, for they Avould not submit to any such punishment in the prison. Major Wainright ordered his marines to load their pieces, and, that they might not be suspected 804 NEW FIFTH READER. of trifling each man was made to hold up to view the bullet which he afterward put in his gun. 17. This only caused a growl of determination, and no one blenched, or seemed disposed to shrink from the foremost '^exposure. They knew that their number would enable them to bear down and destroy the hand- ful of marines, after the first discharge, and before theii pieces could be reloaded. Again, they were ordered to retire ; but they answered with more ferocity than ever. The marines were ordered to take their aim so as to be sure and kill as many as possible. Their guns were pre- sented, but not a prisoner stirred, except to grasp more firmly his weapon. 18. Still desirous to avoid such a ‘^tremendous slaugh- ter, as must have followed the discharge of a single gun, Major Wainright advanced a step or two, and spoke even more firmly than before, urging them to depart. Again, and while looking directly into the muzzles of the guns, which they had seen loaded with ball, they declared their intention “ to fight it out.” This '^'intrepid officer then took out his watch, and told his men to hold their pieces aimed at the convicts, but not to fire till they had orders ; then, turning to the prisoners, he said, “ You must leave this hall ; I give you three minutes to decide; if at the end of that time, a man remains, he shall be-shot dead.” 19. No situation of greater interest than this, can be conceived. At one end of the hall, a fearful multitude of the most "^desperate and powerful men in existence, waiting for the "^assault ; at the other, a little band of ^disciplined men, waiting with arms presented, and ready, upon the least motion or sign, to begin the carnage ; and their tall and imposing commander, hold- ing up his watch to count the lapse of three minutes, given as the reprieve to the lives of hundreds. No poet or painter can conceive of a spectacle of more dark and terrible ‘‘‘sublimity ; no human heart can conceive a situation of more appalling suspense. 20. For two ininutes, not a person nor a muscle was ECLECTIC SERIES. 305 moved, not a sound was heard in the unwonted stidness of the prison, except the labored breathings of the ^in- furiated wretches, as they began to pant, between fear and revenge: at the expiration of two minutes, during which they had faced the ministers of death with ■**un- blenching eyes, two or three of those in the rear, and nearest the further entrance, wont slowly out: a few more followed the example, dropping out quietly and tdeliberately ; and before half of the last minute was gone; every man was struck by the j)anic, and crowded for an exit, and the hall was cleared as if by magic. 21. Thus the steady firmness of moral force, and the strong effect of '^determination, acting deliberately, awed the most savage men, and "^'suppressed a scene of car- nage, which would have instantly followed the least ■‘■precipitancy or exertion of physical force. Questions. — Give an account of the scene described in this lesson. What accounts for the conduct of the subordinate officer, who, though ordinarily the mildest, was on this occasion the firmest? Suppose Major W. had fired through the windows, as he was advised, what would have been, in all probability, the result? What gained this bloodless victory ? Explain the inflections, and point out the emphatic words in the last two paragraphs. EXERCISE XXXYIII. Oi'h^dj T^Yob^sty troublst, troubleSy iroubrsty ribsy Tobb’sty handrdy fondl’sty hvendtliSy laugh^sty dar'k^ns, d^irkhi^dy dii7dc’ ii^ sty darlh ii^dstj BtTQngiJi’n, stvength’nsy Btrengik’n^dj strengih’n^st, siiength^n^dst. 5 til R. — 2() 30G NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON LXXXVIII.^ 1. REC-oa-Ni'-TiON ; n acknowl- edgment. 2. Fab^-ric, n. any system com- posed of connected parts. 2. E-ra-'sed ; V. blotted out. 8. Per^-pe-tra-tor, n. one that commits a crime. 3. Ex-tinc^-tion ; n. a putting an end to 4. Fer^-til-ize ; V. to make fruit- ful. 4. A^-the-ism ; n. disbelief in God. 4. Sens-u-al^-i-ty ; n. indulgence in animal pleasure. RELIGION, THE ONLY BASIS OF SOCIETY. Articulate clearly all the consonants in the following and similar words in this lesson : stability, prosperity, interested, prin- ciples, friend, suspect, comprehends, fabric, concerns, itself, im- provements, perpetrator, extinction, describe, unprotected, trample, restraints. 1. Keligion is a social concern ; for it operates power- fully on society, '^'contributing, in various ways to its stability and prosperity. Eeligion is not merely a pri- vate affair; the '^community is deeply interested in its ■♦■difrusion; for it is the best support of the virtues and principles, on which the social order rests. Pure and undefiled religion is, to do good ; and it follows, very plainly, that, if God be the Author and Friend of society, then, the recognition of him must enforce all social duty, and enlightened piety must give its whole strength to public order. 2. Few men suspect, perhaps no man “^comprehends, the extent of the support given by religion to every vir- tue. NTo man, perhaps, is aware, how much our moral and “’'social sentiments are fed from this fountain ; how'’' 2 DOwer- less conscience would become without the belief of a God ; how palsied would be human benevolence, were there not the sense of a higher benevolence to quicken and sustain it; how suddenly the whole social fabric would quake, and with what a fearful crash it would sink into hopeless ruin, were the ideas of a supreme Being, of '’'accountableness and of a future life, to be utterly erased from every mind. ECLECTIC SERIES. 307 3. And, let men thoroughly believe that they are the work and sport of chance ; that no superior '‘'intelligence concerns itself with human affairs ; that all their im- provements perish forever at death ; that the weak have no '‘'guardian, and the injured no '‘'avenger ; that there is no ■‘'recompense for sacrifices to uprightness and the public good; that an oath is unheard in heaven; that secret crimes have no witness but the perpetrator ; that human existence has no purpose, and human virtue no unfailing friend ; that this brief life is every thing to us, and death is total, '‘'everlasting extinction ; once let them thoroughly '‘'abandon religion, and who can conceive or describe the extent of the desolation which would follow ? 4. We hope, perhaps, that human laws and natural sympathy would hold society together. As reasonably might we believe, that were the sun quenched in the heavens, our torches would '‘'illuminate, and our fires quicken and fertilize the creation. What is there in human nature to awaken respect and tenderness, if man is the ■‘'unprotected insect of a day? And what is he more, if atheism be true? 5. Erase all thought and fear of God from a commu- nity, and selfishness and sensuality would absorb the whole man. Appetite, knowing no restraint, and suffering, having no solace or hope, would trample in scorn on the restraints of human laws. Virtue, duty, principle, would be mocked and spurned as unmeaning sounds. A '‘'sordid self-interest would '‘'supplant every feeling ; and man would become, in fact, what the theory in atheism de- clares him to be , — a companion for brutes. Questions. — What is the operation of religion upon society ? What would be the effect of the removal of religion, upon the whole fabric of virtue? Why would not human laws and sympathies hold society together ? 308 NEW FIFTH KEADER. LESSON LXXXIX.v / 2. Fer^-vex-cy ; n. warmtli. | 5. RE-VEAL''-iNG;t>. making know a 8. Mim^-ics ; V . imitates. 1 7. Ser''-aph ; n. an angel. THE THREE SONS. 1. I HAYE a son, a little son, a boy just five years old. With eyes of thoughtful ^earnestness, and mind of gentle mold. They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways appears ; That my child is grave and wise of heart beyond his childish years. 2. I can not say how this may be ; I know his face is fair, And yet his sweetest tcomeliness is his sweet and serious air ; I know his heart is kind and fond, I know he loveth me. But loveth yet his mother more, with grateful fervency. But that which others most admire is the thought which fills his mind; The food for grave, inquiring speech he every where doth find. 3. Strange questions doth he ask of me, when we together walk ; He scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as children talk. Nor cares he much for childish sports, dotes not on bat or ball. But looks on manhood^s ways and works, and aptly mimics all. Ilis little heart is busy still, and oftentimes perplexed With thoughts about this world of ours, and thoughts about the next. i . He kneels at his dear mother^s knee, she teaches him to pray ; And strange, and sweet, and solemn, then, are the words which he will say. 0, should my gentle child be spared to manhood^s years like me, A holier and a wiser man I trust that he will be ; And when I look into his eyes, and press his thoughtful brow, I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose him now. ECLECTIC SERIES. 309 5, I have a son, a second son, a simple child of three ; 1^11 not declare how bright and fair his little features be. How silver sweet those tones of his when he -Iprattles on my knee : I do not think his light-blue eye is, like his brother's, keen. Nor his brow so full of childish thought as his has ever been ; But his little hearths a '^‘fountain, pure, of kind and tender feeling ; And his every look^s a gleam of light, rich depths of love revealing. When he walks with me, the country folks, who pass us in the street, Will shout for joy, and bless my boy, he looks so mild and sweet. 6, A playfellow is he to all, and yet with cheerful tone Will sing his little song of love, when left to sport alone. His presence is like sunshine sent, to "^gladden home and hearth, To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all our mirth. Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his heart may prove As sweet at home for heavenly grace as now for earthly love ; And if, beside his grave, the tears our aching eyes must dim, God comfort us for all the love that we shall lose in him. 7, I have a son, a third sweet son ; his age I can not tell, For they reckon not by years and months where he is gone to dwell. To us for fourteen "tanxious months his infant smiles were given. And then he bid firewell to earth, and went to live in heaven. I can not tell what form his is, what looks he weareth now, Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow ; The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the -tbliss which he doth fe4l,^ Are numbered with the secret things which God will not +reveal 8 But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest, AV’here other blessed infants be, on their Savior^s loving breast : I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh. But his sleep is blessed with endless dreams of joy forever frcsli. 310 NEW FIFTH READER. I know the angels fold him close beneath their glittering wings, And soothe him with a song that breathes of heaven’s +divin- est things. I know that we shall meet our babe (his mother dear and I) Where God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every eye. Whatever befalls his brethren twain, his bliss can never cease ; Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is certain peace. 9 It may be that the tempter^s wiles their souls from bliss may sever. But, if our own poor faith fail not, he must be ours forever. When we think of what our (iarling is, and what we still must be ; When we muse on that world^s perfect bliss, and this world^s misery ; When we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel this grief and pain, 0, we’d rather lose our other two, than have him here agaia Questions. — How many sons are spoken of? What is said of the first? Of the second? Of the third? LESSON XC.-^ 1. Gen^-ial; cheerful. 2. En-am^-eled ; v. made hard and smooth. 3. Rev^-el-ry ; n. merriment. 4. Ec''-sta-sy; n, rapture. 4. Ur^-chin ; n. a child. 5. Var^-let; w. scoundrel. 6. Vo-LUPT^-u-A-RY ; n. pleasure seeker. [to the stomach. 7. Gas-tro-nomMc ; adj, relating THE BOBLINK. 1 Articulate distinctly. Do not say happies for hap-pi-es^; poise for poets ; /iiZZes for full-es?; ; tinJdin for tink-lin^; /eeZ’n for feel in^ ; hiids for birds. 1. The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals the European lark in my estimation, is the boblineon, or boblink, as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice portion of our year, which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May so often given by the poets. With us it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of ECLECTIC SERIES. 311 Juno. Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the year ; and later than this, begin the parching, and panting, and '^'dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial inter- val, Nature is in all her freshness and '^'fragrance : “the rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land.” 2. The trees are now in their fullest '^'foliage and brightest verdure ; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel ; the air is perfumed with the sweet- brier and the wild rose ; the meadows are enameled with clover blossoms ; while the young apple, peach, and the plum begin to swell, and the cherry to glow among the green leaves. 3. This is the chosen season of revelry of the boblink. He comes amid the pomp and fragrance of the season ; his life seems all '^sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when the clover is in blossom. He '^perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long, '^flaunting weed, and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a '*'s ac- cession of rich, tinkling notes, crowding one upon another, like the outpouring melody of the sky-lark, and posse'ssing the same "^rapturous character. 4. Sometimes, he pitches from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters ■^tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pur- suit of his mate ; always in full song, as if he would win her by his '^'melody ; and always with the same appear- ance of ■‘'intoxication and delight. Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the boblink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of the year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom ; but when I, luckless urchin ! was doomed to be mewed up, during the livelong day, in a school room. 312 NEW FIFTH READEK. 5. It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me, as lie flew by in full song, and sought to '^'taunt me with his happier lot. O, how I envied him ! IST o lessons, no task, no school ; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry 1 might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo : — “ Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year. “ 0, could I fly, Pd fly with thee , We’d make, on joyful wing. Our annual visit round the globe. Companions of the spring.” 6. Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this feathered voluptuary, which I will venture to '^impart, for the benefit of my young readers, who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I have shoAvn him only as I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when he, in a manner, devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoyments, and was a bird of music, and song, and taste, and sensibility, and L’cfinement. While this lasted he was sacred from injury ; the very^ schoolboy would not fling a stone at him, and the merest "^rustic would pause to listen to his strain. 7. But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into summer, he gradually gives up his elegant tastes and habits, doflfs his poetical suit of black, assumes a ‘^russet, dusty garb, and sinks to the gross enjoyment of common, vulgar birds. His notes no longer ^vibrate on the ear ; he is stufiiing himself with the seeds of the tall weeds on which, he lately swung and chanted so melodiously. He has become a “ bon vivant,” a “gourmand:” with him now there is nothing like the “joys of the table.” Tn a little while, he grows tired of plain, homely fare, and is off on a gastronomic tour in quest of foreign luxuries. ECLECTIC SERIES. 813 8. We next hear of him, with myriads of his kind, ■♦■banqueting among the reeds of the Delaware, and grown '♦'corpulent with good feeding. Ho has changed his name in traveling. Boblincon no more, he is the reed-bird now, the much-sought-for '♦'titbit of Pennsylvania '♦'epi- cures, the rival in unlucky fame of the ortolan! Wher- ever he goes, pop I pop I pop 1 every rusty firelock in the country is blazing away. He sees his companions falling by thousands around him. Does he take ivarning and reform ? Alas ! not he. Again he wings his flight. The rice swamps of the south invite him. He gorges him- self among them almost to bursting ; he can scarcely fly for '♦'corpulency. He has once more changed his name, and is now the famous rice-bird of the Carolinas. Last stage of his career : behold him spitted, with dozens of his corpulent companions, and served up, a vaunted ^dish, on some southern table. 9. Such is the story of the boblink; once spiritual, musical, admired, the joy of the meadows, and the fa- vorite bird of spring ; finally, a gross little '♦'sensualist, who ■♦'expiates his sensuality in the '♦'larder. His story contains a moral, worthy the attention of all little birds and little boys ; warning them to keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits, which raised him to so high a pitch of popularity during the early part of his career, but to ■♦'eschew all tendency to that gross and dissipated indulgence, which brought this mistaken little bird to an untimely end. Questions. — When does the boblink come ? How does he appear ? What does he do ? As the year advances what change occurs in him ? What does he become at last? EXERCISE XXXIX. Wmd, minds, mmdst; ^md, ^nds, ^indst ; jiold, ymlds, ymldst ; XmgWn, l^ngtli^ns, l^ngth^nst, length^ nd, \Qx\gtli^ndst ; hri^t^n 67'ighn^^ws, hri^fnst, hri^fnd, hri^fnd’st. fe — 27 314 NEW FIFTH READER LESSON XCl.'if'' 2. Perch; v. to light or settle on any thing. 3 Pen^-ance; n. suffering for sin. 4. Lays ; n. songs, [tion of singers, o. Choir (pro. kwire); n. a collec- 5. Dome; n. a building. Here it means the heavens. 6. CoN^-sE-cRA-TED ; adj. set apart for the service of God. 8. Track ^-LESs; having no path. THE WINGED WORSHIPERS. [To two swallows, that flew into Church during Service.] Pronounce correctly. Do not guilt-liss for guilt-Zm; mor^ tnls for moY-tals; pen-unce for ^on-ance ; up-wud for u^-ward. 1. Gay, '^guiltless pair^, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of '^prayer^, Ye have no sins' to be forgiven. 2. Why perch ye here^, Where mortals' to their Maker bend ? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? 3. Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep : Penance is not for you'^ Blessed ■t^vand’rers of the upper deep. 4. To you ’t is . given To wake sweet nature’s untaught lays ; Beneath the arch of heaven To '**chirp away a life of praise. 5. Then spread each wing, Far, far above, o’er lakes and lands. And join the choirs that sing In yon blue dome not ■**r eared with hands. 6. Or if ye stay To note the consecrated hour, Teach me the "^airy way. And let me try your '^envied power. ECLECTIC SERIES. ai5 7. Above the crowd, On upward wings could I but fly, I ’d bathe in yon bright cloud, And seek the stars that gem the sky. 8. ’Twere heaven indeed. Through fields of trackless light to soar, On nature’s charms to feed, And nature’s own great God +adore. Questions. — On what occasion was this poem written ? We ad- dress letters to our friends ; was this addressed to the birds in the same sense ? Do you discover any beautiful expressions in this lesson ? Point them out. Give the rule for the rising inflection at “pair.” For the falling inflection at “heaven.” For the rising inflection at “prayer” and ‘ ness how soon these poor animals, thus taken from the unbounded freedom of the prairie, yielded to the domin- ion of man. In the course of two or three days, the mare and colt went with the lead horses, and became quite ■tdocile. Questions. — Near what river did this expedition commence? Where is that river? Describe the country, scenery, etc. What animated objects presented themselves to view upon the right and the left? To what is the whole scene compared? What hunting maneuver was commenced? Describe it. What is the lariat? Describe the pro- ceedings of the party in this maneuver. What interrupted its suc- cessful completion ? Give the striking contrast between the flight of the wild horses and that of the buffaloes. Describi the capture of the black mare. What was the conduct of the captured animals in respect to being tamed? 32U NEW FIFTH KEADEll. LESSON XCI1I.?;5 5. Co^-QUET-RY ; n. trifling in love. 6. Cho^rus ; n. music in which all join. 6. Yore; adv. old times. 1. Le^-gion ; n, division of an army. 2. Corse ; n. a dead body. 3 Hoard n. what is laid up. THE SOLDIER ON THE RHINE. 1. A Soldier of the Legion lay dying at Algiers, There was lack of woman's nursing, there was '’'dearth ot woman's tears, But a comrade stood beside him, while the life-blood ebbed away. And bent with pitying glance to hear each word he had to say. The dying soldier faltered, as he took that comrade's hand. And he said : I never more shall see my own, my native land I Take a message and a token to the distant friends of mine. For I was born at Bingen, at Bingen on the Rhine! 2, “ Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around. To hear my mournful story, in the pleasant +vineyard ground. That we fought the battle bravely, and when the day was done, Full many a corse lay ghastly pale, beneath the setting sun ; And mid the dead and dying were some grown old in wars, The death-wound on their gallant breasts, the last of many scars ! But some were young, and suddenly beheld Life's morn decline, And one had come from Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine ! 3 “ Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, For I was still a truant bird, that thought his home a cage ; For mj father was a soldier, and, even when a child. My heart leaped forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ; And when he died, and left us to divide his '’‘scanty hoard, I let them take whate'er they would, but kept my father's sword ! And with boyish love I hung it where the bright light used to shine, On the cottage wall at Bingen, calm Bingen on the Rhine ! ECLECTIC SERIES. 321 4 “ Tell mj sister not to weep for mo and sob with drooping head, When the troops come marching home again, with glad and tgallant tread ; But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and steadfast eye. For her brother was a soldier, too, and not afraid to die I And if a comrade seek her love, I ask her in my name To listen to him kindly, without '♦‘regret and shame ; And to hang the old sword in its place, (my father^s sword and mine). For the honor of old Bingen, dear Bingen on the Rhine I 5. ‘‘ There^s another, not a sister, in happy days gone by. You’d have known her by the -J-merriment that sparkled in her eye; Too innocent for coquetry, too fond for idle ‘♦‘scorning, 0 ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning ! Tell her the last night of my life — (for, ere the moon be risen. My body will be out of pain, my soul be out of prison), I dreamed I stood with her, and saAV the yellow sunlight shine On the vineclad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine ! G “I saw the blue Rhine sweep along. I heard, or seemed to hear The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear ; And dovrn the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill. The ^echoing chorus sounded, through the evening calm and still ; x4nd her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk, Down many a path beloved of yore, and well remembered walk; x4.nd her little hand lay lightly, '♦'confidingly, in mine; But weTl meet no more at Bingen, loved Bingen on the Rhine I” 7 His trembling voice grew faint and hoarse, his gasp was child- ish weak. His eyes put on a dying look, he sighed and ceased to speak ; His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land was dead ! And the soft moop rose up slowly, and calmly she looked down On the red sand of the battle-field, with .bloody corses strewn I Yes, calmly on that dreadful scene, her pale light seemed to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine 322 NEW FIFTH READER. LESSON XCIV. 1. Ro-mano'-ing; adj. telling fa- bles. 3. Fe-lic^-i-ty; n. happiness. 5. Sus-PEND^-Ei) ; V. put off. 5. PpcE^'-ma-ture; adj. too scon, too early. MATILDA. Pronounce correctly. Do not say tliousun for thou-sancZ; r